Eye of the Tornado Page 9

  The being's warm smile returned as he replied. "Where there is nothing, there is only darkness. It takes a beacon of light to beat back the darkness. Where there is no warmth, there is only cold. It takes a source of heat to vanquish the cold. Similarly, where there is no good, there is only evil. The Maker didn't create evil, He created good. Evil exists when there is no good present. It is not a ‘thing' that the Maker created; it is what is left over in the absence of his creation."

  "But if He is all powerful," Kitreena said, "then why does He allow evil to even exist in the first place?"

  "Because if he didn't, His creations would have no choice but to serve," Mateo replied. "The Maker has given all of His creations free will. He wants people to choose to follow Him, not automatically do so from birth."

  "But why?" Vultrel asked. "What is the point? What's the purpose of all of this?"

  Now Mateo laughed openly. "You're asking for the meaning of life? That, I do not know. As I said, only the Maker truly understands the workings of the Grand Design, including its ultimate purpose. That kind of knowledge is beyond mortal comprehension, and that is why faith is so important."

  That certainly wasn't enough for Vultrel. "And what if I choose not to follow?"

  "I don't know why, after all you've seen and been through, you would question what I have told you," Mateo said flatly.

  "Because I've seen too many people killed to really trust anyone." There was no hesitation in Vultrel's reply. "It's too dangerous. There is too much greed, too much anger, too much hatred in the universe."

  Mateo gave a sympathetic look, tilting his head to the side. "Don't you want to help fight such evils? Don't you want to keep the people you care about safe?"

  "I don't care about anyone anymore," Vultrel sneered. "I intend to get by on my own means from now on. I don't need to rely on anyone else for support." Arus hoped that wasn't true, but Vultrel's actions of late seemed to indicate a lack of compassion for any of the virtues that Eaisan Lurei had taught him to cherish.

  "Then you hand yourself over to Kuldaan," Mateo told him. "Deny it as you wish, but to turn your back on the Maker—even if you don't believe He's there—is to give yourself over to whatever fate Kuldaan has planned for you. I hope and pray that you'll think better of such a decision before it is too late, but in the end, you decide where your feet will take you."

  "Perhaps if I could speak with the Maker Himself," Vultrel suggested. "You let me see Him, and I'll believe."

  "Believe," Mateo said, his smile returning, "and you will see."

  Arus stepped forward, sparing a wry smile for Vultrel; he seemed eager to continue in his arrogance, but there were more important issues to discuss. "Vultrel's unease aside, what is it that you want us to do?"

  Mateo's eyes swept across them with that considering look before he answered. "Each of you is struggling to do what is right, yet you are being held back in your own unique ways by stifling and sometimes crippling emotions." His gaze shifted to Vultrel momentarily. "You must overcome these things if you are to fulfill the purpose that the Maker has set before each of you." He positioned himself in front of Damien and looked up at him despite their difference in height. "Damien, you have long sought to remove emotion from your work, yet compassion and love are key ingredients in what you do. You believe them to be a crutch for enemies to exploit, but they are the components that drive you and your organization to help the poor and protect the innocent, and removing those emotions from your life would not only hurt you, but it would hurt them as well. It is because your brother embraces neither of these that he behaves the way he does. Don't follow in his footsteps, I beg of you."

  Damien, the mighty Zo'rhan warrior, almost appeared to have trouble bringing himself to meet Mateo's gaze. The glowing being said no more to him, instead walking to the other side where Vultrel stood. "Vultrel, you have forsaken everything you once held so close to your heart. All of the honesty and respect and love and nobility that your father taught you has been discarded in your pursuit of your own selfish goals. But you wouldn't be here right now if the Maker thought you were beyond all hope. Throw away this anger and bitterness that you've allowed to cloud your vision and reclaim the honor that Eaisan Lurei carried. Do not continue to abandon what you know in your heart to be truth, I beg of you."

  Vultrel opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He looked furious, eyes narrow over curled lips, but for whatever reason, he kept quiet. Mateo shifted his attention to Kitreena. "Princess Kitreena Azure, heir to the throne of Aerianna, guardians of the peace of Lavinia. I will be the first to admit that life did not treat you well as a child, but you have grown much since then, both in age and maturity. While you have become a very powerful young woman, your lust for vengeance over your childhood pain threatens to consume you. Turn away from that pain, discard it, and move away from it. Do not let anger and hatred drive your strength anymore; replace such feelings with hope and love. Show mercy on those who would show you none, and love those who hate you. These are the greatest weapons of all. Behave toward others the way you would have them behave toward you, and if their evil stirs your anger, calm it with the hope that one day they will see the error of their ways. Kitreena, end this pursuit of retribution that you've clung to for so many years, I beg of you."

  Arus looked at Kitreena in astonishment. Heir to the throne? You're . . . a princess?

  Not now, Arus. We'll discuss it later.

  Tears rolled down her cheeks as Mateo stepped away, finally coming to Arus. "And you, Arus. Your own dark desires led you down a very dangerous path, and you paid a heavy price. Since then, you have done a remarkable job of turning your painful experiences into motivation to do what is right, something that many never learn to do. But beware; anger and hatred are always lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on you the moment you give them an inch. Kuldaan works his teeth especially hard on people who turn away from him, and he'll do everything in his power to reclaim you as his own. Keep a tight reign on your feelings, Arus, and continue to set an example for those around you to follow. You have great potential to do wondrous things in this life. Do not allow evil to cloud your judgment ever again, I beg of you."

  Arus bowed deeply, thanking Mateo as he did. "I will do everything in my power to avoid repeating the mistakes I've made."

  "Good. Together, you four have the power to affect many lives. The strength of the Maker will always be with you so long as you strive to do what is right according to His will. Now then, do you have the stones with you?"

  That caught Arus by surprise. How could he have known about them? Probably the same way he knew our names. "I do," he nodded, reaching into his pouch. The amulet came out first, followed by the two purple stones. "Do you know what they are?"

  Mateo took the stones and examined them closely. The light from his body extended and encompassed them both, bringing forth a purple aura from the center of each. His lips spread into an almost surprised grin, eyes wide beneath a raised brow. "Good," he murmured, turning the larger of the two rocks between his fingers. "Real Lifestone. The Maker said it was so. I was wrong to doubt him."

  "Lifestone?" Kitreena repeated. "What is Lifestone?"

  Again, Mateo looked surprised. "The building blocks of existence, of course. When the Maker first set out to form the heavens and the lands, He began by creating a large stone He called the Lifestone, the most basic form of matter ever to exist." As he finished the sentence, he pointed to the purple sphere above. "Everything He has created, and everything He will ever create, originates within the Lifestone. Your planets, your stars, mountains, plants, even you and I, we all came from the Lifestone, each molded by the Maker's hands for a unique purpose."

  "So how did Kindel get a hold of this Lifestone?" Kitreena frowned. "Has he come to the Fourth Dimension before?"

  "No," Mateo responded, taking the smaller piece into his fingers. He elaborated no further, instead focusing on the purple fleck. "Now, this is odd. This stone contains all o
f the properties of the Lifestone, yet it has been made from a synthetic material. One might call it artificial Lifestone. Works the same way, yet not authentic."

  "Thorus claimed that he had found a way to harness magical properties from them," Arus explained. "He said that the smaller piece was a clone made from the first."

  Kitreena shuddered visibly as she spoke. "Kindel learned to create something that only the Maker should've known how to make? How is that possible?"

  "Simple manipulation of reproductive properties in other organisms," Mateo responded, his voice too casual for the subject matter. "Since everything comes from Lifestone, everything has the ability to interact with Lifestone. It's not so surprising. Mortals have the ability to recreate many of the Maker's creations. Children, for one example. Fruits, vegetables. Animals reproduce on their own, too."

  Mateo switched his attention to the amulet and began examining the jewels embedded within its golden surface. Curiosity compelled Arus to repeat Kitreena's earlier question. "Do you know how this piece of Lifestone found its way into our world?"

  For a time, Mateo continued to look over the amulet, flipping it over in his hands and tapping it with a finger here and there. Eventually, he looked up. "I do not, nor do I know how the Blade of Kaleo wound up in your dimension. But the Maker knows, I'm sure, and all things work together according to His will. To be honest, I'm not concerned with how they got there. I'm concerned with getting them out of evil hands. With these in your possession," he held up the stones, "we're halfway there. All that remains is to retrieve the Blade of Kaleo."

  "If those rocks belong here," Damien said, looking up at the giant Lifestone above, "then please take them. They'll be safer here than in our realm."

  Creases formed in Mateo's brow as he shook his head. "Once a piece of the Lifestone is removed from the whole, it can never be returned. There would be no one to watch over them here, and they are too dangerous to simply be left around for the wrong person to discover. Besides, they found their way to you."

  Arus wasn't sure he liked what he was hearing. "Are you suggesting we take them with us? Are you sure that's wise?"

  Mateo looked hard and long at him, twisting his lips in an odd way that seemed to indicate deep thought. "Yes," he said. "I don't know why, but whatever the reason, the Maker has seen that those pieces of Lifestone wound up in your hands. As He has entrusted you with the retrieval of the Blade of Kaleo, I believe He trusts you with the Lifestones as well. I charge you with the responsibility to guard them with your lives and do everything in your power to ensure that they never fall into evil hands again." He handed the two rocks back to Arus, pausing a moment to stare at the amulet. "But beware," he added, raising the golden pendant, "the power of the Lifestone is not a toy to be used irresponsibly. It is a tool, capable of both great miracles and great destruction. Use it only as a last resort."

  Arus nodded slowly as he took the amulet back and returned both it and the stones to his pouch. "Very well, then. How do we get back to our own universe?"

  Mateo backed away, eyes sweeping over the four of them once again. "I will send you to wherever you wish to go. Once you've retrieved the Blade of Kaleo, bring it back here. Damien, your teleportation powers can bring you here safely. I know you are uneasy about using such abilities, but the Maker does not bestow talents upon his creations without reason. Retrieve the blade, but beware. If there is any evil in the heart of the one who touches it, the blade will destroy him just as it is destroying Kindel. If you succeed, I will grant you the right to return to the Fourth Dimension whenever you are in need of a safe haven from those who would seek to harm you."

  "I understand," Damien said with a nod. "Can you tell us where Kindel has gone?"

  "At the moment, he is onboard his vessel, headed for Terranias," Mateo responded, frowning. "He intends to destroy it to prevent any more natives from rising up against him."

  Arus clenched his fists and glared at Vultrel. "You see? You see what your glorious leader is up to?"

  Vultrel's face hardened as he looked away. He said nothing, only lowering his head with a sigh. Kitreena attempted to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away from her.

  "You said that this place is time, is that correct?" Damien asked. "Can you send us to a point in time before Kindel obtained the Blade of Kaleo? Maybe we can prevent this whole—"

  Mateo was already shaking his head vigorously. "Absolutely not. Time travel has happened before, it will happen again, and its effects were felt across the universe. I cannot assist with any such action. You must return to your own time to retrieve the weapon."

  Arus' head felt as though it were about to explode. From learning that Kitreena was a princess—How could she not have told me?—to finding out that time travel had was not only possible, but had already happened, his brain felt as though it had been flipped upside down. A part of him still expected to wake from the dream at any moment. "If Kindel is already on his way to Terranias, we've got to get moving," he said, rubbing his temples. "It's a long journey."

  "Yes, we must get going," Damien agreed.

  Mateo bowed politely. "Of course. Everyone, please picture the place where you wish to go, and I shall send you there."

  "Think of the Refuge, everyone," Damien told them. "We'll meet on the bridge to discuss everything."

  But Vultrel spoke up. "I can go anywhere?" he asked.

  Mateo did not seem pleased. He eyed Vultrel for a moment, and a silent exchange seemed to take place. "Anywhere, Vultrel," he eventually said. "As I said earlier, you are free to do as you wish."

  That brought forth a satisfied smile. "Good. I know exactly where I want to go."

  Disappointment mixed with frustration for a brief moment in Mateo's eyes. "As you wish," he murmured. Turning a brighter expression to the others, he raised his hands over his head. "The Maker will watch over all who embrace His will. May His grace and peace be with you always!"

  Blinding light drowned everything.

  *******

  Twin bars of light lining the ceiling greeted Vultrel when he opened his eyes. The floor was cold against his back, a solid metal that vibrated ever so slightly with the distant hum of what sounded like a starship's engines. He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes for a moment before jumping to his feet. The unidentified office was vacant, though if Mateo had been true to his word, it was not onboard the Black Eagle. A lone desk and terminal sat beside him complete with a red cushioned chair. Paintings of various settings adorned the walls—a beach on one side, a forest on the other, a quaint little town in front—and a grey uniform of the Vezulian Armada was folded neatly atop a cabinet beside the door. Hopefully, its owner wouldn't be coming for it soon. But none of that was of any importance; it was the long viewport behind the desk that captured Vultrel's attention, and he leaned against it as he inspected the surrounding starships.

  "Come on, come on!" he muttered softly, his eyes darting from craft to craft. The Armada's escort had grown even larger than it had been for the attack on the Aeden Outpost, and they swam through the darkness at such speeds that the stars streaked by like blue and white lines in space. Most of the ships were unrecognizable to him, but his eyes eventually landed on the one he wanted. "The Black Eagle. There she is. Which means if Kindel is over there, then I am onboard the Falcon Mist."

  It couldn't have been more perfect. Somewhere onboard that very ship, Sartan Truce sat oblivious to the target that he himself had painted onto his own back. All Vultrel had to do was find him, and the Kyrosen would fall once and for all. And while Kindel Thorus may have gone mad, the Vezulian Armada was still under his command, which meant that Vultrel was still to be recognized as a welcome guest. There should be no trouble roaming the halls of the Falcon Mist with the authorization code that Thorus had given him, though he had to be sure to steer clear of Truce until the opportune moment. Still, it was as perfect a situation as he could've asked for.

  Turning away from the window, he gave the computer term
inal a considering look. He hadn't gained much experience in using the technology other than the little that Scimitar and Kalibur had shown him, but given the nature of his intentions, it was prudent to be as informed as he could be about his surroundings. He set himself down into the chair and powered up the terminal's silver viewscreen. The authorization prompt appeared, and his code number opened a menu of basic selections. An option for departmental listings caught his eye, and he tapped that portion of the screen. That brought up a long list of departments and their locations, as well as names for the head of each department and their contact frequencies. Vultrel had barely begun to skim through the information when a couple of voices outside the door attracted his attention.

  His sword flew from its scabbard as he leapt from the chair and shifted to the right side of the door. His authorization may have granted him access to basic computer functions, but it certainly didn't give him the right to invade private offices. An intrusion of any kind would bring unnecessary attention to his presence, and he desperately wanted to avoid anything that might alarm Truce. Gripping his sword, he listened close as the two voices grew louder. Females, from the sound of them, though their words seemed a bit . . . guarded for Vezulian soldiers. Both silenced suddenly, and a gentle rapping came from the door. Vultrel remained perfectly still, his blade ready to kill if necessary. Hour-long seconds passed, and the knock repeated itself, slightly louder this time. After another moment, the soft voices returned.

  "Perhaps he is late?" a timid sounding woman asked.

  "That would not be unlike him," a second female said, sounding quite amused. "I'm afraid my dear husband's grasp of time isn't all that firm."