Destiny's Kingdom: Legend of the Chosen (2 page)

“Tyler?” The viewscreen flashed back to the boy, who hastily wiped his eyes. “I have everything we need now. Are you ready to use it?” He nodded, quickly finding his resolve. Pride rose in Jame’s chest.
 

“We’ll meet up at the center of the galaxy and together we can still fulfill our destiny. We can still destroy it once we’re all together again.”

Tyler started to say something, but stopped short and reconsidered. “Mom always thought we could succeed.”

“And I believe we still can.” On the viewers, Jame saw their ship, only moments away from where he was. “I’ll see you on the other side of the leyline Tyler.”

“Yes, Dad. I’m ready.”

As soon as their ship came into visual range, Jame reached for the helm control, more to steady his shaking hand than to actually engage. With one last nod to his son, their communication was broken as he dropped into the nexus point and the guiding suction of the leyline took over control of his ship.

Jame held his fisted hand against his forehead, eyes shut tight. This was the moment he had silently promised himself the instant that Tyler told him Leila was dead. His eyes squeezed together involuntarily as he saw her form in his mind, her long auburn hair, the prominent features of her determined face. Inhaling, he smelled the scent of her skin, the warmth of her hand. All of this, gone, devoured by this ancient enemy that devours everything, was devouring his very world. Ire mixed with heartbreak froze and melted all at once inside his chest but still, little time to grieve. For an entire year they had readied for this moment, this day, and even without Leila’s powers, the magic Jame had harvested should still be enough for Tyler and Annick to wield against the SanFear. Once it made its way to the center of the galaxy, they would be ready for it, and they would stop it before it could move on to destroy other worlds.

A chime sounded, alerting Jame that the leyline was ending. He could see the glow of the nexus point fast advancing and he immediately sprung into action. He touched the bundle next to him and the protective magic imbued in the cloth wrapped around the sphere zinged over his skin. Dropping from the leyline, Jame quickly scanned the area. As he’d hoped, he was alone, and he knew that his son was only a moment behind him. Traveling a bit closer to the galactic center, he lost visual range of the nexus point and keyed on his long range viewers so he could watch Tyler’s ship arrive. The nexus point glowed its beautiful green, vibrant in this dark and deserted area of space. Suddenly, the ship dropped from its ethereal light and Jame felt a surge of hopefulness. Opening a hail, he spoke before the visual came onscreen.
 

“All right,” he said, “lock onto my coordinates and let’s dock.”

“Dad!”

Jame snapped his head over to the viewer as Tyler came onscreen.
 

“It’s too late… the SanFear is right behind us.”

On the long range viewer, the nexus point began to dim, its vibrant green fading to a sickly gray, and then a mossy black when suddenly, the SanFear emerged, dark and inky, pouring and pouring from the deadened nexus point, spreading and spreading, infinitely blacker than the blackness of space.

“Annick! Lock onto my coordinates and come quickly! Full power! Get away! Get away from there!”

But it was too late. The SanFear surged, energized from the power of the nexus point and attached itself to the tail of the tiny craft.
 

“Tyler!”

Behind his son, Jame could see the bulkhead quaking, instruments failing, equipment falling. He heard Annick scream, but all he could focus on was Tyler’s face.

“Dad, you have all the magic… take it and get away! We weren’t the ones to stop the SanFear but there will be others after us. If you can get to them… maybe you can help them stop it.”

Startled by these calm words from such a young boy, Jame couldn’t speak and before he could regain himself, he saw the bulkhead behind Tyler singe black and a squeal began to build.

“I’ll see you again, Dad.”
 

The hull burst open, and everything inside the ship blasted outward. The last thing Jame saw was Tyler grabbing for the console, only to be jerked away and sucked into open space, along with Annick and everything else onboard.
 

A roar filled Jame’s cockpit, a scream so primal and raw that it deafened his own ears for a minute. Jame jumped back from the pilot’s seat, backed against the wall of the cockpit, staring blindly at the tiny remnants of debris that was only a moment ago, a ship, but now had been absorbed by the SanFear. It moved toward him now, more importantly, toward the black hole that indicated the very center of the galaxy. Against his chest, Jame felt a tiny orb vibrate, and he pulled it out. His eyes glittered, stared with sorrow, anger, moist and bloodshot. There was no need for this little trinket now. He ripped it from his neck, opened a small panel on his console and dropped the glowing sphere down the chute. As the SanFear advanced Jame changed his course, headed straight for the black hole. Warning alarms blared but he silenced them. Auto pilot kicked in but he switched to manual to override the failsafe. The intense gravitational pull of the black hole could be felt inside his ship; but Jame barely noticed. He increased power to enter the darkness. Reason left him; and he uttered an ancient prayer that he himself could not believe he was about to say:

“Sorrows to the old and wise, with heavy hearts, we die. It was not us; we are not the true Chosen. And so, it ends.”

And so, it begins…

Always different…always the same. It seems like forever I have seen this drama play—

You mean we. You always forget me.

It seems like forever we have seen this drama played out again and again. The beginning and the end are always the same. Tragedy and death followed by hope but always, inevitably, there is failure. I have never seen…

“We!”

We have never seen it end any differently. We have all but lost hope.

There never was hope.
 

That’s not fair.

When have we seen fair? Take for instance now. How many times have we seen this happen, what we see now? Once? Twice? Thousands?

Millions.

So there is no hope.

Why then do we still watch?

I…

Why did we begin to watch, to help?

Wait…

Have you so quickly forgotten our purpose?

Stop

Have you so easily let go of the dream?

The plan. The scheme. Of flawed gods and flawed beings.

Let us speak of the legend. Perhaps in its telling we can garner some hope?

'Tis doubtful.

Indulge me. Let us ponder the plan, see what prospect it brings. Let us unfold what’s known as the Grand Scheme of Things…

As scribed by the first Keystone, Fionn Crittendon

Handed down from verbal history

Legend of the Chosen

When time was young
 

and humans were innocent

 
evil besieged the land.

Hungry for the power of the gods

It sought to corrupt what once was pure

 
The high Avè was called for his wisdom

and the Chosen were formed.

One who is the Keeper

who holds the power of Destiny

There will be a Seer

the tie that binds the chosen three

One that is a Risk

a world to lose, a world to gain

And among them all, a Wild Card

whose life will be not ever changed

The Chosen called upon the magic of all reality

to cast the menace into oblivion.

Cloaked in anonymity,

their identities were forever lost

in the passage of time.

CHAPTER 1

F
ew things in life, when experienced time and again, succeed in maintaining their charm from the first time to the hundredth time and the thousandth time. Quade Decairus could think of only a handful; the rise of Bethel's sun over the dew covered green grass that carpeted the hills, the milky pastels of Tal-Min Vista's aurora borealis. There were other scattered, more forgettable images and experiences. But the one thing that stood out in his mind at this particular moment in time, was the feeling of landing on a planet. When one's ship enters the gravitational pull of the atmosphere, so different from the guiding, tubal suction of the leylines, drawing you, almost coaxing you, toward its very existence. The parting mist of the clouds as you break through them and peer beyond their haze to see the round body of the planet, so serene and peaceful at that distance, no matter what the truth of the surface world actually is. Few things seem so wondrous as the blur of blue oceans and brown land masses as they come into view, take form and presence as the viridian hue of trees becomes evident, the character of the terrain slowly revealing itself while the pull of the planet's gravity continues to assert, virtually beckon. The anticipation of arriving on a world from that vantage point was always the same; limitless possibility, and a sense of mortality as one ponders how large the world, whatever world, truly is against the minute size of a simple being.

In bold contrast, that sense of wonder dwindles quickly when one is sitting in the sterile, uninteresting periphery of a space station, waiting and waiting for one's arranged appointment to arrive. So easily forgotten, those profound images of planets and not so long ago experiences. So easy now, to focus on the humming of air filtration generators, of buzzing conversation that carried on within the confines of the public quadrant where Quade had been waiting for - how long now - two hours? He looked to his wrist chron. Yes, two hours, twenty-one minutes. Typical behavior for Thanach, or any Venrey for that matter. So wrapped up in the thrill of their hunt, even simple courtesies fell by the wayside. It certainly was more thrilling to be hunting for new leylines, discovering never before seen nexus points, but the Venrey’s inability to keep to a timetable already had Quade behind schedule and this was his last stop before finally going home. Quade glanced up to the countdown clock above the archway. The space station would go on lockdown in less than an hour and all traffic would be blocked while the docks were used for incoming supply ships. If Thanach didn’t show up before then, Quade would be stuck for at least four more hours, which felt like four days at this point. Since age was virtually irrelevant to the Venrey, they viewed time overall quite differently. Quade doubted that Thanach could even tell him how old he actually was if he were asked, given the unnatural way the Venrey extend their life. But was it unnatural, he silently questioned, or just unnatural to him? Quade dismissed the thought, having lost the ability to wax philosophical on the Venrey at this belated hour of their arrival.
 

Quade shifted in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. Staring at the clock again, he pushed his bangs from his brow, ran his hand over the long black waves of his hair. He’d often thought of cutting it, but Trina liked the way it looked and the way it tickled her face when he held her against his shoulder, so he left it long. He glanced about the area again, his patience wearing thin. He knew the Venrey was nearby. This was just their annoying way, their predictably routine methods of dealing with all people who weren't Venrey. Suspicion and distrust ran deep from decades past when the Venrey’s territory had come under siege. These memories kept them wary of everyone, even those they knew and supposedly trusted. He would have hoped that after years of dealing one on one that Thanach's tactics would have changed, but the Venrey never change. Soulless beasts, he thought to himself and smiled, remembering how Trina had called them that repeatedly over the years.
 

Quade was broken from his wandering thoughts as something caught the attention of his peripheral vision. He looked up and across the rows of the public seating area where he was waiting, to see a little boy, perhaps eight years old, crouched low to the floor, prowling around some supply barrels. The boy seemed to be in plain view for all his sneaking efforts, but then Quade realized that he was looking at a reflection, the mirrored panels of a wall that was giving him the secret backside view of this child's moves. He continued to watch with interest as the boy looked around suspiciously, apparently unaware that his progress could be easily seen by anyone who happened to be glancing at the reflective wall. After a minute or two of analyzing the boy's movements, Quade simultaneously saw and smelled what it was that he was aiming for; a provisions cart with freshly baked turnovers had wheeled in and now stood directly in the child's path. The rich warm scent of butter and both sweet and savory spices quickly filled the air, prompting Quade himself to inhale a little more deeply. He knew right away that the boy meant to pilfer a couple of the flaky pastries, probably more for hunger than for sport, he concluded by the child's appearance and grimy clothing. Quade judged that there would be a minute or so before the boy would gain close enough access to grab his coveted bounty, so he stood abruptly, reaching deep into his front pocket and counting by touch how much paper money he had as he walked toward the food cart.