Savior (16 page)

He did this twice more, with amazing speed and accuracy, before two Vires reached us.

“Get out of here, Jocelyn!” Jameson shouted his instruction so loud, it rang in my ears. “Go!”

My heart was beating so hard, it felt like it was slamming into my ribcage, and I damned The Sevens for weakening my abilities in the prisons. If it wasn't for them, I would have sent every one of their Vires flying.

Instead, it was Jameson and Theleo who fought them off, sending their bodies spilling across the ground. But the Vires didn’t stay there, standing and returning to the fight with vengeance equal to Jameson and Theleo’s.

My chest tightened with fear as I saw the next unit coming through the trees. We were badly outnumbered. Where were the people we had inspired just moments ago?

Then, as if a trigger had been pulled, the prisoners behind us, the ones who struggled to grasp the courage to leave their home, found it within themselves to help us, and themselves. They swept toward the oncoming Vires with the same unity that had kept them bound to each other when their prison had been destroyed and when we urged them to join us. This time, however, they used it in defiance.

The Vires met the charge, but were forced to relinquish several paces, their unmistakable black uniforms and moldavite stones jostling and shifting with the intensity of their struggle. Their abilities, unrestricted here, gave them access to an arsenal of defenses, which they didn't hesitate to use. Fireballs flew passed, several prisoners were lifted off the ground and flung against the trees. Casts spewed from the Vires lips with vehemence.

“
Incantatio incendo
!”

I watched as a man was suddenly set on fire. Jameson impeded my rush toward him, but I shrugged him off, leaving the protective field he was trying to form around me. Reaching through the flames now engulfing the man, I gripped his arm despite the smell of burnt flesh filling my nose and the heat from the flames scorching my skin. I was nauseated and the pain was excruciating, but I held on.

Through the man’s shrieks, I countered, raising my voice above his, “Incantatio sana!" I repeated it three more times before I lost my grip on his arm and he collapsed to the ground. A moment later, he sat staring in wonder at his undamaged skin, the injury completely gone now.

I heard another Vire shout, “Incantatio clausis guttur!
"
His words confirmed the fight was still raging behind me. After hearing this incantation, I saw a man's hands rise to clutch his tightening throat. By the time I reached him, he was turning blue, slumped against a tree trunk, with his mouth hanging slightly open.

I placed my hand on the victim, repeating my incantation until the man’s color returned and he started breathing again.

I turned to find Jameson plowing through the remaining Vires, a blend of speed and accuracy, bringing down those in his path with ease. I could tell he was coming for me by the direction of his course and his unrestrained determination. I rushed to evaluate his condition; he was breathless, but thankfully, unscathed.

At a foot from me, he spun around to face the oncoming attack. The last Vire came at Jameson with the force of a man having accepted his own death. They collided, but no fists were thrown, and no incantations were made. Jameson’s dagger found its mark on the first try, sending its victim sliding down Jameson’s torso. The Vire landed in blood that was now rapidly pooling at Jameson's feet before slumping to the side like a sack of grain.

Dazed, I stared at Jameson.

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Working on catching his breath, Jameson inhaled sharply.  “Theleo.”

And gradually I took in Jameson’s profile. He stood, ready for the next Vire, his jaw firmly set, his attention sweeping across the clearing. I was in awe; he was astonishing.

Relaxing his stance, he made an announcement I honestly never expected to hear. “He’s the last of them.”

As I was surveying the clearing with him, I witnessed something else astounding that had taken place in the midst of the conflict.

The Vires now lay lifeless, forming a carpet of black uniforms and moldavite stones over which the prisoners stood triumphantly. Their bodies were no longer bent in weakness but erect with pride and purpose. I surveyed them, taking in the sight.

These people had lost their homes and yet they managed to conquer their greatest fears, to defy the odds of survival. They didn’t seem to notice it in themselves though. Instead, they seemed attentive to a message being passed from one to the next.

Then, collectively, they turned to face us.

It was Tahitoa who vocalized it simply, humbly, having absolutely no idea how profoundly true his message would be.

“We’re ready now.”

9  DEFECTORS

Weeks passed and our visits to other penal colonies steadily grew more dangerous. Sartorius began leaving a unit behind at every one of them he attacked in hopes of apprehending us; their numbers grew larger each time they failed. Jameson and Theleo were competent in their attack, striking by surprise from hidden positions. I was a bit disgruntled to be left out, but I understood their intention - to keep me safe.

With each prison we visited, more inhabitants began to show they were waiting for us. Word was spreading that the legend was true: The Relicuum had become their savior. I shunned this perception, knowing full well that Jameson held that honor. He seemed content, nonetheless, in allowing them to believe it. Instead, he was thankful that he had less difficulty convincing them to return with us. Because of this, our village populace multiplied. Shacks and boats crowded the waterways. Traditions established in the penal colonies found their way here where an open exchange of new ideas was embraced. It was revitalizing, like a breath of fresh air wafted in, carrying away the sullen oppression our world had lived in for so long.

Theleo continued to collect bugs from every penal colony, cultivating his small, personal zoo. But he dramatically improved his standing in the village when Uncle Lester agreed to let him offer recruits advice on how to dominate Vire defenses. My mother was the only holdout, retaining a stubborn contempt for him.

Spencer and Dillon still had not found a solution to the one problem that continued to plague us - enabling the prisoners to use their abilities. It eluded them to the point they kept complex, detailed notes and missed meals because they were too engrossed to realize the time. It was the one factor that, despite Jameson’s growing army, we knew would jeopardize us in the end. If we couldn’t overpower them, it would be the equivalent of delivering lambs to the slaughter.

Jameson and I preoccupied ourselves with the search for Maleko and Kalisha - a task that was proving to be increasingly problematic and left both of us wondering if The Sevens had done something different with them.

To pass the time between our nightly visits, most of my waking hours were spent at the makeshift hospital, healing those with minor injuries or the occasional case of the flu. Jameson spent his time managing the village and all the nuances it entailed. The afternoons were spent lounging on his bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. We’d managed to end our contact there so that we could actually get the sleep we were intending, but I couldn't deny that it was hard. We had a goal, a purpose to restore our energy not only through sleep but by being close to each other, recharging in our special way. It was during one of these afternoons that Charlotte knocked on our door again.

“Duty is calling," she informed us, adding thumps of her fists loud enough to be heard by half the shacks on the water.

Jameson remained still, delaying the interruption of our contact for as long as possible. “What’s it about?”

“You’ll need to ask Miss Mabelle and Miss Celia that,” she shouted, although there was no need to. We were fully awake now.

I opened my eyes to find Jameson staring thoughtfully at the corrugated tin ceiling, and for good reason. Those two ladies always seemed to carry important news with them….

He sat up and slid off the bed, trying not to disturb me, before noticing I was already awake. Then he circled around and knelt beside me with a tender smile.

I slipped my hand out from beneath the thin blanket and curled it around his neck to draw him closer; and a devilish grin rose to his lips as he recognized my intentions.

But, of course, Charlotte prevented it.

“They asked for you too, Jocelyn.”

My eyes widened at the mention of my name and Jameson burst out laughing at my reaction.

“Yep,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low so only I could hear. “Apparently, she figured out that you’re in here.”

“Who else knows about me being here?” I called out to her, seeing no more reason for pretense.

“Everyone, really,” she replied coolly, knowing it would have an effect on me. I was surprised she didn’t let my embarrassment linger. “Everyone but the parents, Jocelyn. Now get up! Tired of waiting out here for you.”

I didn’t bother reminding her that she had
just
knocked on the door, not even two minutes ago. Instead, I stood, slipped on my cloak, and followed Jameson outside.

When the door opened, it revealed a scowling Charlotte, her typical expression.

Jameson noticed it, too. “Maybe we can find someone else to summon us?”

“Oh, I volunteered.” Her face contorted into a sneer. “Couldn’t pass up the chance to confess I knew Jocelyn was in there, too.” She giggled snidely under her breath just thinking about it and turned to skip toward her boat.

Her elation, however, turned back to its former bitterness as soon as we reached the shack where Jameson’s parents were staying; which was also now being used as the unofficial meeting quarters.

“Yayas, trounced em’ like a pack a’ wolves, they said,” Miss Celia was asserting as we entered. “Hit ‘em hard, they said. Seemed to be on a rampage, they said.”

“Hit hard?” muttered Mr. Caldwell, before the meaning set in and made him bolt upright. “We need to start notifying others.”

“Already doin’ it,” declared Miss Mabelle.

“I meant across the provinces,” he clarified.

Miss Mabelle disdained being questioned, and showed it. “Already doin’ it!” she snapped back. Her ego ruffled, she wiggled a bit in her chair before adding, in a softer tone, “S’ why it took us so long ta get hea’ n’ tell ya. Ain’t easy ta find those Officers of yours.”

“So The Sevens are now weeding us out by attacking the provinces,” Jameson deduced, his tone both sympathetic and troubled as he stood just inside the room. The rest of our families were already in the room, leaving little available space, so Charlotte and I stood at the door.

Apparently, he’d figured out the gist of the details from Miss Celia’s rant, and given his propensity for logic, this didn’t surprise me.

“Well,” said Miss Celia, her face veiled with empathy. “Have a feelin’ they’s still goin’ to attack them prisons, too. Far as they know, you two…” she nodded at Jameson and me, “…could be movin’ between them both.”

The room fell silent at that perspective, a somber air seeming to encase us.

“At what point will they stop?” I asked, rhetorically.

“They won’t,” Jameson proclaimed. “They’ll do everything they can to get to us.”

Again, I felt the strong desire to simply hand myself over to them. Only the memory of what would happen if I did prevented me from leaving that very second.

As if he’d picked up on my thoughts, Nolan suggested, “We should find all The Sevens’ relatives. Do the same to them.”

Alison immediately began to agree, but Jameson cut her off.

“Then you can start with your cousin,” Jameson said with a tip of his head toward me, pointing out the absurdity of that concept.

“Oh, right,” mumbled Nolan. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Do you know how many times I’ve considered giving myself up?” Of course, he had no idea, but this seemed to surprise him.

“How many?” my mother asked tightly.

“You don’t really want to know, Isabella,” Jameson interjected, attempting to stave off the escalating tension in the room.

My mother’s pinched lips told me that she didn’t approve, but she seemed to recover quickly. “It wouldn’t matter,” she sighed. “The Sevens wouldn’t be affected if we put their relatives in danger. They lack our ethics.”

Everyone in the room stiffened at her statement as an understanding of the extent The Sevens would go to find Jameson and me washing over all of us simultaneously.

“Was anyone hurt in the attack?” I asked, not entirely certain I wanted to hear the answer.

“Yayas,” Miss Mabelle replied tersely, a pointed expression on her face. “Now you know ‘bout it, you gonna do anythin’? Or you gonna just stand there?”

“Miss Mabelle-" Jameson started to warn her, but she cut him off, listing the people who had been assaulted.

As she continued, my mother stepped forward, intrigued.

“Is something wrong, Isabella, dear?” asked Aunt Lizzy, who had been surprisingly quiet during the course of the discussion. Clearly, she had been paying attention.

“Those are my associates you just listed,” she replied, warily, directing her statement at Miss Mabelle.

“And I’m thinkin’ The Sevens know it.”

My mother spun around to face Jameson and me. “I’m coming with you. And I won’t take no for an answer.” She glanced outside, noting the sun had set, and asked, “Where’s our transport?”

She was referring to Theleo, but wouldn't show him enough respect to use his name.

“Outside,” I grumbled.

Spinning on her heel, she marched through the door where her voice could easily be heard. “You’ll need to bring us to Moscow at once.”

I sighed, knowing there was nothing much I could do about her attitude. Instead, we thanked Miss Mabelle, who frowned, and Miss Celia, who nodded, before leaving the silent room.

It was eerie hearing only the squeak of the boards beneath our feet. Even the rest of the bayou seemed to feel the tension, animals and insects included. There was no jazz tune being played, no hum of a boat motor, not even the chirp of a cricket. It was as if they knew we were walking toward our demise.