Guardians: The Power of Four

GUARDIANS

The Power of Four

Linda Cole

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

Guardians

The Power of Four

Copyright © 2012 by Linda Cole.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-2008-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-2010-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-2009-3 (ebk)

iUniverse rev. date: 05/25/2012

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue: Staria-400 Years Ago

Chapter One: Earth 1990

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Thirty Forty

Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three

Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty One

Chapter Fifty Two

Chapter Fifty Three

Chapter Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Five

Chapter Fifty Six

Chapter Fifty Seven

Chapter Fifty Eight

Chapter Fifty Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty One

Chapter Sixty Two

Chapter Sixty Three

Chapter Sixty Four

Chapter Sixty Five

Chapter Sixty Six

Chapter Sixty Seven

Chapter Sixty Eight

Chapter Sixty Nine

Chapter Seventy

Chapter Seventy One

Chapter Seventy Two

Chapter Seventy Three

Chapter Seventy Four

Chapter Seventy Five

Chapter Seventy Six

Chapter Seventy Seven

Chapter Seventy Eight

Chapter Seventy Nine

Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty One

Chapter Eighty Two

Chapter Eighty Three

Chapter Eighty Four

Chapter Eighty Five

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank Dawn Creighton, without you there wouldn’t have been a Keyla and she is one of my favorite characters.

Paul Carlos, you are an amazing writer the way you paint a picture with words is unequal. Thank you for always being there to help me whenever I got stuck. Your words are inspirational and I look forward to working with you in the future.

To Norm Pederson, Kimberly Lake, Susan Robichaud, Kim White and many others a huge thank you. Your encouragement and enthusiasm for this story were instrumental in getting it this far. I Thank god for sending you into my life, you have enriched it beyond measure.

Lastly, I’d like to send a special thank you to my family, especially my husband Kevin and my two children, you are my biggest fans and I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.

Linda Cole

I hope you enjoy this story as much I do. Please contact me at guardianslcole@yahoo.ca if you have any questions or just want to talk about this story and its characters. I’d love to hear from you.

The Prophecy

There are seven times two who guard the life force

One will rise to alter the course

Against the one seven stand

Balance tipped on Taysia’s land

Until from seven there is one.

From seven to one through time and space

The power of four the one shall face.

When one and one make three

Pleased are the powers that be

The balance restored, the course is set

Out of the light the dark descends

Beware a foe who is a friend

The one thought dead to be alive

Nature divided; only one will survive

And all will be as before.

-Deia

These are the meanings of the Starian phrases and words found in the story.

* Sek Keylie zo ion kelaze ze decia avada vol rina—I give my life force to those who come next.

* Sek Keylie zo thayia ze decia avada vol rina—I give my powers to those who come next.

* Kanda lie thayia de mar—By the powers that be

* Thayia de mar—Powers that be

* Laymar van zyon—Walk with courage

* Avada vay ak?—Who are you?

* Fakan na daz Staria, daz Taysia, avak ada sek?—This is not Staria, not Taysia, where am I ?

* Sta karonit?—What happened?

* Enzak de kellen—Threatened unto death

* Sek keylie zo eon kelaze ze zak decia avada enzak.—I give my life force to burn those who threaten.

* Sek keylie zo tayia ze Malic.—I give my powers to Malic.

Prologue: Staria-400 years ago

The young soldier nodded to the guards as he entered the domed throne room at the top of the citadel. Looking around the circular room he was awe struck, as always by the sheer beauty of the site. The crystal dome above him allowed the rainbow colors flashing across the sky outside to bounce off the glossy white stone walls and floors creating an opal and airy effect. Lighting crystals could be seen hiding in their tiny alcoves spread evenly along the walls catching the light and redirecting it toward the focal point of the whole room: The platform rose only a few feet off the floor and finished in the same glossy white stone. Beams of light encircled the platform and seemed to make the figure on the purple cushioned throne glow with power, although the famed Dark Lord did not need any help in that area.

Malic, the Sartay of Staria sat on the throne with a presence that demanded respect and it was given because behind the intelligence that burned in his golden-yellow eyes and smile on his ageless face, lay a spark of pure evil that brought fear to any sane man.

Swallowing his fear, Vert came to the base of the raised platform knelt and slung his arm across his chest in the royal salute.

The time is here, my lord. The prophecy is unfolding. Imagining the rich reward his pleased king would give him when told of the exciting news, the soldier continued I, your humble servant and loyal soldier, have brought you a gift, oh Sartay. The last seven, the ones Deia told of in her prophecy, the ones who could defeat you. Realizing his mistake, he rushed on, not that anyone could of course, you are the all powerful, the only great Sartay of all of Staria.

As Vert gushed the Sartay slowly held up his left hand, leaning his elbow on the arm of his chair. His sleeve falling open showing five marks of power, in a vertical line on the inside of his wrist: a diamond; a five pointed star; a flame; a water drop; and a crescent moon. All of them glittered in the brightly lit room, like snow in the sun, but the mark of a star glowed brighter than the rest. Malic’s eyes sparked with pleasure when he felt fear swell inside the soldier before him. Then, just for show, he pinched his long slender fingers together choking the soldier with a thought.

You have captured the last seven, have you? Malic asked in a pleasant voice as if they had all the time in world.

Vert fell forward on to his hands as he struggled to breathe, unable to speak, he could only nod.

Good, very good, Malic said opening his fingers wide, releasing his victim. Malic’s pleasant features twisted into a sadistic smile when he felt the rush of air from the soldier next to him as he let out a sigh of relief.

Vert gasped and breathed deeply, filling his deprived lungs with sweet oxygen then settled himself back into a kneeling position in front of the Dark Lord

Bring them to me, Malic ordered.

Vert came to his feet and turned, hurrying toward the exit only pausing when he heard Malic’s voice ring out.

Oh, and as for your reward, Vert . . . consider yourself lucky to be alive.

Shuddering, Vert nodded and quickly left the high chamber. He was happy he could breathe once again. The Sartay had very real powers, one of which was the power of the mind. Breathing a sigh of relief, the soldier walked briskly down a twisting corridor that carried him away from the throne room and down the steps towards the dungeon rooms. These rooms hadn’t been used before Malic had assumed the throne now they were full to over-flowing with prisoners, most of them ordinary people who disagreed with Malic’s new laws—like The Seven.

He almost felt sorry for them. The Seven were the only ones left who had the power to stand up to the Sartay, but now they would be destroyed. Who then would stand up against Malic? Who then would protect the innocent? Certainly not him, he didn’t have the guts. It saddened him to think it, but it was the truth. After the display of power he’d experienced moments before he now had a new respect for The Seven and he wished them a speedy death.

The soldier walked down the dingy, brown-bricked corridor, nodding to the other guards as he passed barred doors with bolted locks to a special chamber at the end of the hallway, built just for one purpose: to contain these beings of power. This room had more than a steel door with a bolted lock—it had magic.

Open the door and put them in the electrical bonds, Vert called out as he neared the guard standing outside the cell. Narrowing his eyes in recognition, he swore under his breath. It was Yentar, the guy he was bragging with earlier about the reward he hoped to get. The unspoken words ‘I told you so’ were written all over Yentar’s face. Vert watched, with mounting irritation as the smug smile turned into a sarcastic grin.

Hey, are you taking them to see the great, almighty Sartay? Tell me Vert, did he give you that reward you were looking for? Yentar laughed when he saw the murderous look on his pal’s rounded face.

No, Vert grudgingly admitted as he spat on the floor. He just made me feel real lucky to be alive.

Ha, I told you so, didn’t I? That one he’s a real mean son of a bitch, ain’t he? Yentar laughed as he unlocked the door and rounded up the prisoners linking them together with a long chain, their wrists encased in thick blue electrical bands designed to shock the prisoner then drain their energy, leaving them weak and subdued.

I hear he has the power to read minds. Yentar talked as he worked, If you’re thinking anything against him you and your family will end up in here, chanting for the release of death; if you’re lucky, that is. I heard he knows ways to kill you before you’re ready—against your will. Yentar shoved the group of seven out of the room into the hall way, holding one end of the chain he said, Here, I’ll help you take them rebels up and watch the one on the end, he’s a right sneaky bastard. Yentar flexed his sore jaw where Kyle had landed a punch earlier.

Four more guards flanked The Seven as they were marched single file up the hallway. When they passed, a cheer was shouted by the other prisoners, encouraging The Seven, until Yentar used his heat rod to silence them.

Up the stairs they climbed, the only sound was the clanking of the chain and the scuffling of feet. Paraded up the long twisting corridor to the high chamber, each of the seven prisoners lost to their own thoughts of where fate would take them.

Entering the High Chamber, Vert and his fellow soldiers pushed them forward to stand before the raised platform. The seven Guardians stood side by side, as a guard at each end of the chain and four guards standing to the rear watched over them. Vert noted that although they were prisoners, they still showed their pride. It was this pride that made them hold their heads up as they faced their enemy.

Malic sat leaning forward on his throne looking down at an old parchment in his hands, gently caressing it as he stared at the words written on it. He was aware of the beings in front of him but it gave him a sense of superiority to leave them waiting before acknowledging them.

Malic! Link finally shouted in frustration, We have committed no crime, so why are we here?

Malic smirked at him, You’ve got guts, man of fire, I will give you that. Not many men would dare to make demands of me. He settled back in his chair, plucked at a stray thread on the arm of his black robe. But, because I admire your spunk, I’ll answer your question. He was thoroughly enjoying this. It was a game to him and this was the final match. Malic knew he’d win so he took his time, toying with them.

I brought you here because you’re a threat to me. Does that surprise you, Savrik? He spoke, reading the mind of the Guardian of Emotions. Of-course, it’s not that you could actually defeat me. My power exceeds any one of yours. No, your real threat is in the feelings you inspire in the people. Even Vert here, Malic pointed a finger toward him the soldier that captured you has feelings of treason.

Without warning, as if a giant invisible hand picked him up and tossed him aside, Vert flew across the room and hit the wall with a sickening thud before landing in a heap on the floor. Two guards standing by the wall quickly picked him up and carried him out of the room.

One of the four soldiers standing behind the seven stepped up to fill Vert’s position, picking up the dangling chain. Malic turned back to the prisoners before him and continued speaking as if nothing had happened.

I will not tolerate any threat to me or the empire I have built here on Staria. He looked down at the parchment he held in his hand. He read it over, silently then held the prophecy up for everyone to see. His lips twitched in mockery as he looked over the untidy crew before him. Shaking his head in disbelieving mirth he spoke.

You insignificant fools are the ones foretold by Deia in her prophecy. His gaze settled on Kyle’s mop of blue streaked black hair. Malic instantly knew that although the Guardian of Electricity wanted to learn to read and write, to become an historian, he had been denied. Kyle was trained as a crystal miner. Knowing this Malic couldn’t resist taunting him. He threw the parchment at Kyle, it landed inches from his feet.

Go ahead, read it for yourself. Seeing the anger on Kyle’s face Malic smiled "You can read can’t you Kyle? No? Pity, then I shall explain to you the prophecy. There are, or were, fourteen of us before I killed the others and stole their powers; much like I am about to do to you—but, that’s getting ahead of myself. Now where was I? Oh yes: Deia’s prophecy . . .

There are seven times two who guard the life force,

One will rise to alter the course;

Against the one the seven stand

Balance tipped on Taysia’s land

Until from seven there is one."

Kyle’s hands clenched tightly in his bonds, his blue eyes sparked with barely controlled anger. Savrik, his sister put a gentle, calming hand on his arm giving him comfort and support. Kyle looked at her as the anger flowed out of him then he smiled his eyes carrying a message.

How touching. Malic sneered, annoyed that he was unable to get the response he wanted from his chosen victim. He looked over the rest of them. His eyes passed slowly from one to the other, scanning them for information that could be useful.

You see, I am ‘The One’ that Deia spoke of and I will be the only ‘One’. I have already altered the course of life here on Staria, and once I have all of your powers I will rule the whole Fentra solar system.

Zen, the Guardian of the Mind, bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling. Concentrating on the mental blocks she had to place on herself and the rest of the group. It was vital that Malic not find out about the last two verses of the prophecy. Staring at the discarded parchment on the floor in front of Kyle a brief sense of satisfaction welled up in her. This could work, she thought. In his rush to gain power and fulfill the prophecy he had grown over confident. Malic hadn’t bothered to look for the rest of the prophecy. She and her sister, Zaylar, with exhausted searching had found it, a Kyvein crystal left in the basement of the archives containing the full prophecy. When they held the crystal they shared a vision of Deia herself, reciting the prophecy. It had three verses, the one that Malic recited plus two others:

"From seven to one, through time and space,

The power of four the one shall face.

When one and one make three,

Pleased are the powers that be.

The balance restored, the course is set.

Out of the light the dark descends

Beware the foe who is a friend

The one thought dead to be alive

Nature divided, only one will survive

And all will be as before."

On that day they discovered the hope that the prophecy contained. That was the day the plans of the group had truly started. They knew what had to be done and if they didn’t survive, there was still hope. If the prophecy was right, then someday another group would stand up to Malic and he would not win. The fates wouldn’t, couldn’t allow it. At least the plan the seven of them had made up together would take all of them away from Staria and no one else would be hurt by Malic. That thought made a smile bloom inside of her only her iron will kept her face expressionless. ‘No, Malic wouldn’t win, not this time.’ she told herself.

I can end your lives despite your wishes and I can take your powers as my own. To demonstrate this Malic held up his left arm displaying the five marks proudly. Marks he had stolen along with the powers from the last four Guardians he had killed. (The other two, he didn’t get to in time. The Guardian of Death, Yentar’s older brother, ended his own life and the other Guardian of Electricity had a little mishap with water while trying to run from Malic’s soldiers.) Suddenly, his arm shot forward, the mark of a flame glowed and fire erupted from his hand leaping toward Awkwa, the Guardian of Water.

Awkwa automatically brought her arms up, calling on her power to protect herself but the energy bonds they all wore sapped at that power and left her and the others too weak to help her. Crumbling under the attack that lasted only a few seconds, Awkwa screamed as the heat from the fire raised blisters on her skin. Batting at the flames with her hands she tried to put them out. Through the searing pain and the smell of burning flesh from her arms she heard the gleeful laughter of Malic.

LET HER BE! Zaylar shouted as she went to the floor beside Awkwa, using the folds of her robe to help stifle the flames, gasping in outrage when she took in the charred flesh of Awkwa’s arms. Zaylar stared at Tazok—the youngest of them, a blond teen with kind eyes the same color as the green streaks that ran through his hair—when he knelt on the other side of Awkwa.

Tazok saw the pleading in Zaylar’s eyes, it matched the yearning inside of him and he nodded. As the Guardian of Life it was he alone that was able to use the healing energies of the world around him.

No, Tazok save your strength. Link advised but the teen wasn’t listening.

Awkwa watched, wincing a little as Tazok placed his hands on her burnt flesh then his eyes met hers and she felt such warmth in that gaze that her pain seemed to float away.

Tazok closed his eyes and tried to draw on the healing power within him but he was weakened by the bonds that were around his wrists. Still he focused, the image of her brunt flesh and the pain in her eyes made him try. He couldn’t give up and let her suffer.

The others looked on with a mixture of pride and concern as the strain of what Tazok was doing became evident on his face, sweat beaded on his brow clenched in concentration. Even Malic was quietly enjoying the show wondering what would happen next.

Tazok fought to stay upright and focused even as his body swayed; then it happened. His hands began to glow a soft white and his vision changed; he was healing her, slower then he normally did, but it was working. Tazok could feel the glow in his hands gradually dim as the last of his energy drained away. Awkwa’s wounds were but minor sunburns when Tazok’s hands stopped glowing altogether. His energy completely gone, he slumped forward—unconscious.

Tazok! Zaylar exclaimed as she stood. She wanted to go to him but the chains and the guards restricted her movements keeping her in line.

Pathetic! Malic said a sneer lifting the corner of his month as he stared down at the prone form of Tazok. This will be easier then I first thought. Now, as I was saying, I will end your life against your wishes but first I’ll let you have a choice. I am, after all, a reasonable man. Malic said but before he could tell them his offer, Link interrupted.

Reasonable? My ass!

That remark earned him a swift and painful blow across the back by Yentar.

Link fell on his knees to the floor, Zaylar helped him as he struggled to get up. They all knew Malic was born with the same powers as Savrik, the Guardian of Emotions, but they weren’t surprised that he had other powers, or that he had stolen them from the other six Guardians. They had heard the rumors and now that they knew it was true, they had new worries: Malic could kill.

You won’t silence us, Malic. Zen stood as tall as her five foot eight inches would allow, her thick, lilac streaked-brown hair flowing down her back. Pride made her hold her head high as she continued. We will be heard.

Laughter greeted her brave words. It was cold, but held genuine mirth. You dare to stand before me, the great Sartay. You, who are my prisoners, dare to make demands of me? Malic asked his face a mask of incredulity, I think you failed to understand the power I wield, so I will give you another small demonstration. Malic’s eyes gleamed with pleasure. He loved torturing people; it was one of the many small pleasures of having power—seeing people cowering before him, hearing them beg for mercy, a mercy only he can grant. He looked over the seven picking out his prey. Take them back to their cell, but leave Kyle here.

No! Savrik shouted, clinging to her brother until Yentar turned up the shock level on her electrical bonds, making her faint as electricity coursed through her body.

Yentar unhooked her and Kyle from the chain-gang. He motioned to the other guards to pick her and Tazok up and then holding the chain he started to lead the rest of the prisoners out.

"Be strong. Put up any mental shields you can," Zen told him with her mind, as she passed him. Kyle nodded as he braced himself for whatever tortures Malic would think up.

We’ll try to help in any way we can, Link said before he was prodded to leave.

Kyle stood alone in front of the throne. The voltage that flowed through the bonds that held his hands tight did not weaken him. The bonds were made of electricity and fed his power, making him strong, but was he strong enough, he wondered? Malic had the powers of more than one Guardian.

I’ll enjoy this, Malic thought, before sending Kyle to his knees with a wave of intense pain.

Stand Kyle, you are in no real pain. Are you really going to give up so easily? That was only one emotional attack. Malic taunted then waited for Kyle to get to his feet before he continued. Now let me see, I could burn you with fire, or maybe drown you with water, but out of all the powers I have at my command my favorite is the power of the mind. Malic admitted before using the power of his mind to torture his victim.

*

Reaching the basement cell Yentar pushed the prisoners in and the guards deposited their loads without care on the hard floor before taking the energy bonds off and closing the door behind them leaving the prisoners to themselves in their dim grey cell.

Okay, Zen, what do we do? How do we protect him? Savrik asked. As she came around, ignoring the weak feeling in her limbs she pushed herself off the floor where the guard had thrown her. She had to be strong, she had to help Kyle. Savrik looked to Zen for two reasons: one was that Zen was used to taking command; she was after all the main force behind the rebel movement to oppose Malic’s rule. The other was that she knew how to protect the mind from torture.

First we have to counter the magical barrier, anything we do will backfire with it up. Zaylar? Zen’s expression asked the Guardian of Magic if it could be done.

With a little help from Link and Awkwa it shouldn’t be a problem. Zaylar spoke looking at the two people in question. With an affirmative nod from each of them, the three Guardians moved to the far end of the room to work on the task.

That was quite foolish, my friend. Link said as he nudging Tazok who lay in the corner.

I know, but I could not leave Awkwa in that much pain. Tazok replied rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows.

It’s a good thing you heal fast. Link said reaching his out his hand he helped Tazok off the floor. We do not have a lot of time to do what must be done. We have to help Kyle we cannot leave him to that manic! Link inclined his head in the direction of Zen, and Savrik.

Getting the message Tazok went to join them.

Come sit in a circle with me. Zen instructed, and when Savrik and Tazok sat with her on the dirty stone floor, she continued giving instructions. Hold hands. We are stronger that way. Malic has seriously underestimated us. Zen grinned with pleasure when the familiar heat of their powers flowed together then traveling from one to the other picking up speed as it went around the circle. She looked up as her sister, Link and Awkwa joined them. Zen let out a sigh of relief when Zaylar nodded in answer to her unasked question: "was the barrier down?" With confidence she finished her instructions.

Now close your eyes and picture Kyle’s face. Can you see him? Let your strength and your power flow to him.

Knowing they would help Kyle, Zaylar had a spell ready:

"From six to one our powers flow,

To help our friend against this foe.

From six to one, our will be done."

The others picked up the magical chant, saying it over and over.

*

Kyle could hear a buzzing in his ears. It came above the pain that Malic inflicted. The sound got louder, until it was all he could hear. All he could think about. When he thought he could make out some of the words, he stopped trying to fight it and let it come. He felt them enter his mind: his friends were lending him their strength—their power. It was working! Hope blossomed inside of him. He couldn’t give up now and let them down. He couldn’t let Malic win; he had to fight!

Malic could sense a change in his victim. He was being pushed out of Kyle’s mind. For one instant Malic’s confidence slipped. Could they really defeat me? What am I thinking? He scolded himself. I am the Sartay. I am ‘The One’ Deia spoke. Malic motioned for the guard to take Kyle back to his cell.

Tell your friends to say goodbye, Kyle. I will be there shortly to end all of your pitiful existences. I will have your power this very night!

*

Kyle landed hard on the floor as the guards shoved him in the cell. Locking the door behind him, the soldiers laughed as they walked away.

Are you alright? Savrik asked, as Tazok checked him for wounds.

Yeah, I’ll be fine, Kyle muttered, batting away their hands as he stood. His blue gaze piercing his little sisters then turned to the others as he spoke. Thanks for your help, he said. Remembering Malic’s parting words, his continued. He’s coming soon . . . to kill us.

So much for his generosity, Awkwa commented. We have got to move fast, or it will soon be too late.

Right! Zen agreed. Zaylar, is the spell to Taysia ready?

Zaylor nodded solemnly. There would be no returning from Taysia but at least this world and their loved ones would be safe from Malic. On Taysia they would truly take the fight to Malic but on balanced terms.

Yes, but we have to work together: Are you feeling up to it? Zaylar asked Kyle.

I have to be. he replied.

Yes, Zaylar answered, feeling a bit anxious.

Let us do it then, said Link.

Hearing the stomping of the soldier’s feet, Awkwa turned to the group and said, It is time: Malic and his men are almost here.

The seven stood strong against the evil that surrounded them. Awkwa, Sarvik and Link joined hands, creating a circle in the middle of the room. The remaining four Guardians watched as the three started moving counter-clockwise calling their powers to the surface. The symbols they carried on their left wrist, marking each of them as a Guardian, glowed. They began, talking in unison.

         "The powers that be we call to thee.

                 Take us and our evil enemy,

                         To a world of magic of timeless beauty.

                                 Imprisoned for all eternity

                                         Until from seven there is one,

                                                 Seven to one our will be done."

The air shimmered as the auras that surrounded the Guardians became visible, orange, violet, and green. Silver sparks flared from the center of their circle then fell only to erupt again.

The four outside the circle, joined hands creating a second circle around the inner one, smiling at one another as the feeling of power flowed between them. When their marks glowed too, they began moving clockwise finishing the spell.

                        "This day, this hour,

                                            Take this power.

         Taysia is the place through time and space.

                                     Until the end, evil we will stand and face.

                                                                        Electricity,

                                                                  Magic,

                                                            Life,

                                                    Mind,

                                        Now let our powers combine.

                                           Only the power of four

                                                              Can open the door

                                                    From seven to one

                                                                          Our will be done."

Blue, pink, yellow and white the colors leapt from them, swirling together with the other colors in the room creating a rainbow kaleidoscope. The air sparkled with pin points of light that danced around the room. A thick fog rose up from the ground and wound its way under the door toward the evil it sought. The world beneath their feet trembled as the air shifted. When the mist cleared, Malic, his men and the seven were gone.

Chapter one: Earth 1990

‘Thank God the day was over!’ Keyla sighed. This was the beginning of the second week of school, and Keyla was still no closer to having any friends than the first day. Maybe having been home schooled by her mother on their farm, in the middle of nowhere was the reason she didn’t have the social skills necessary to navigate high school. Or it could be that losing her mother at the tender age of thirteen and being put into foster care. ‘What a joke that was!’ she thought bitterly remembering that a little more than a year later she had left a bad situation behind and headed to New York. (Well, New York hadn’t really been her destination it was just as far away as she could get with the money she had.) Fourteen, homeless, and starving, she had become the only thing she could—a hooker. Whatever the reason she was having a hard time fitting in, the truth was the same: She was a social outcast.

Walking on the sidewalk she hugged her books a little closer to her chest as she the past nice houses with white picket fences. Turning the corner, she made her way up the long street toward the older brick buildings. Her tiny apartment was in one of these falling down buildings. At one time, a long time ago she guessed, these buildings had housed nice businesses in a flourishing part of the city. Looking at them now it was hard to imagine. ‘Why did she come here anyway?’ She asked herself already knowing the answer. She had a feeling—well, more than a feeling, more like a tugging or a pulling. Something was directing her to Springfield and that was why she left New York, and why she was here now, walking toward her tiny, cheap, and lonely apartment.

‘I don’t mind being alone,’ she told herself, but the truth was that she was dying inside from loneliness. She’d do anything to have one person she could call a friend, someone to talk to. Thinking of a friend, her mind automatically turned to Sadie. Tears pricked behind Keyla’s eyes, so she pushed those thoughts away and focused instead on her first day at school. It had been a disaster. The one good thing that came from that day was meeting Reace. Remembering him brought a smile to her lips.

The day she met Reace, she had been trying to open her locker, but was having some trouble. It was the second time in her life that she was faced with a locker. Being home schooled she had missed out on so much.

Can I help you? A voice spoke to her from behind. She turned around and looked at the person standing behind her. He was cute. Taller than her by three inches, with jet-black hair, a smooth face and that strong jaw line; yes, he was very cute. Remembering his question she answered before he thought her dumb or worse.

Yeah, I can’t seem to get my locker open. Could you help me? Is there a trick to this or is this some crazy form of torture? she asked, trying to sound witty.

Here, let me. Reace said then he reached around her and turned the knob on the locker back and forth and back again and opened the door with a practiced ease.

Wow! How’d you do that? She asked.

Practice. And it’s my locker. He half smiled.

Your locker? Oh, my God! I’m so sorry. She held out her hand. I’m Keyla, by the way.

He looked at her hand a second before taking it.

Reace, he supplied, looking her in the eye.

Man, he’s got the most vibrant blue eyes I’ve ever seen, Keyla thought, and then was quickly distracted by the sensation in her hand, the one that he held. It was a tingly feeling that traveled up her arm. Nice, but weird. She noticed that the sensation stopped as soon as he dropped her hand. To Keyla it seemed that Reace wanted to let go of her hand as fast as possible. Why? Did he know about her past? No, that was impossible, she reminded herself. She had left New York a nobody and was still a faceless person in the crowd. Good, she said to herself. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Shaking her head to clear it she turned her attention back to Reace.

I’m new here and this is my first day, as you can probably tell. I apologize for trying to break into your locker. You must think I’m a loser or something.

Something, he said with a raised eyebrow. So what is your locker number?

It’s 242.

"Ah . . . that would be this one." Reace pointed to the locker next to his

Right. Thanks! Keyla said. Not knowing what else to say, she turned to open her own locker. It was easier this time and she got it on her first attempt.

Glad I could help. See you around, Reace said before closing his locker and leaving.

Yeah, thanks. Bye, she said, as he moved away from her.

After that day, all they ever said to each other was hi or bye. Keyla just didn’t know what else to say. Well, that wasn’t true. She could think of lots to say, but all that ever came out was hi or bye. What was wrong with her, she wondered?

So now it was a week later and she was walking the long trek home. Someday, she told herself, raising her head a notch, someday she’d have it all. She’d have friends, money, a respectable job and a nice house . . . . She blew out a breath, ‘who am I kidding? I’ll probably never have any of those things. I can’t even figure out what to say to some guy who doesn’t even know I exist. I wish I had a friend, someone I could really talk to, someone like Sadie.’ Thinking of her best friend, who had died four months earlier, made her lonelier than ever. Her head bent and her shoulders slumped with sadness as she walked the rest of the way to her apartment.

Reaching the building where she lived, Keyla opened the door, walked up-stairs and stopping in front of her apartment door she frowned to see a note stuck to it.

‘Rent past due’ it read.

Great, just great, She muttered tearing down the note and crumpling it in her hand as she fished the key out of her purse, unlocked the door and walked in. Keyla looked around the dim one room apartment and sighed heavily. I’m lucky it came with furniture, she said, laying her books and the crumbled note on the scarred wooden table seated in the middle of what could laughingly be called a kitchen. Three mismatched chairs sat around it; one of which had only three legs. She had learned from experience that it had to be sat on just right or you’d tumble to the floor.

The cupboards along the wall, behind the table, had doors missing and paint peeling. The fridge and stove had a mind of their own. The only window in the place sat on the other end of the rectangular room letting in some, but not much, light. This was good, Keyla decided, because the darkness hid the water stains on the ceiling and wall behind the couch. The closet-sized bathroom sat between the two areas like a divider.

The only furniture in the living area was the brown hide-a-bed couch that had seen better days. Keyla never bothered to make it into a bed. She discovered on the first night that it was hard to pull out and almost impossible to put back, so she just slept on the couch. She’d had a lot of worse places to sleep, Keyla reflected, walking over to sit on the lumpy sofa.

What was she going to do? The rent was late and she had almost no money left. It looked like she might lose this place, prize that it was, she thought sarcastically.

It seemed that she had lost everything in her young life: First, her father he had just walked out on her and her mother, taking her twin sister with him when she was four. Tears pricked behind her eyelids when she thought of how much she missed her sister. Then her mother died, God rest her soul, and Sadie.

Sadie had been her best friend—her first real friend. She had taught Keyla everything she knew; and it was Sadie who had convinced her to come to Springfield and follow her dreams. It had been one of their last conversations. Keyla had confided to her about the strong feelings and strange dreams she was having about going to high school, and being on the cheerleading squad. Sometimes these dreams were so real that she actually woke up with the cheer leading chants in her head, and the desire to practice them. Sadie had said it was a sign that Keyla belonged here. She had even promised to help her. Together they were going to come here and finish high school.

But then Sadie died. And now Keyla was going to lose this place too. Without this place, her dreams of making something of herself were gone.

Tears started falling on her cheeks. Everyone she had ever loved had left her alone. Everyone she had ever trusted had let her down. Maybe she was meant to be alone Keyla thought, but her mind echoed with something Sadie always used to say: ‘life is what you make it. When something happens, good or bad, you have two choices you can either: take it and live with it or you can take it and learn from it.’

Keyla lifted her head and she angrily wiped at her tears. With determination shining in her eyes, she knew what she had to do. She would survive. I’ve come this far, Keyla said, giving herself a pep talk. I will not give up. The way she saw it there were two things she could do sit here feeling sorry for herself while her dreams went down the drain, or she could do what she did before.

*

That evening after her homework was done Keyla put on a short black skirt that barely reached the tops of her thighs. Her long legs were covered in black panty hose secured by a garter belt. Then she put on a bright blue tube top that showed her trim stomach and a short black leather jacket that barely came to her waist. High heeled boots that zippered half way up her thighs completed the outfit. After applying some cheap cosmetics to her oval face, Keyla looked at herself in the mirror: her wide green eyes outlined in black eyeliner; her high cheekbones were accented with blush and her full lips painted a lush red. To her she looked foolish, like a child playing dress-up, but these tools of the trade helped her look years older than sixteen. Brushing her long blond hair off her shoulders with a wave of her hand, she bent to picked up her purse and checked to see if the essentials were there. Feeling safe and sure of her course, she squared her shoulders and left her apartment.

Walking three streets over, toward a busy intersection, she stopped on the corner and strutting herself up and down the street.

With her long blond hair and trim, well-proportioned body, it wasn’t long before a car pulled up and stopped. Rolling down the window, he waited for her to walk over.

Walking as sexy as she could, Keyla bent down leaning on the passenger door to look at the driver. In her huskiest voice she asked, Wanna a good time?

Sure honey, you free all night? I’m looking for a good long time, the driver answered her with a sly smile.

It’ll cost you, Keyla said. I charge by the hour.

How much? the driver asked.

He was driving an expensive car and wearing a suit. He’s got lots of money, Keyla thought. All night? she asked. After he nodded she added, Four hundred, cash up front.

When he inclined his head, she opened the door and slid into the front seat beside him.

You don’t come cheap, do you? he said. Are you worth it? He leered at her as he ran his hand along her thigh.

Every penny, Keyla replied with confidence.

Good, he announced, taking his hand away from her as he started to pull into traffic driving with one hand, he pulled out his wallet with the other then thumbing through the twenties as he counted then pulled them out. My name is John, what’s yours? he asked handing her the cash.

That depends, she began, taking the money and putting it in her jacket pocket. What you want it to be?

How do you feel about Carol? John asked giving her a look that she couldn’t read then he turned his attention back to the road and put his wallet away.

Fine with me, Keyla said. She was dying to ask who Carol was but Sadie had always told her not to get personally involved with the customer—that is the number one rule of the profession. Take the money, do the job then leave. Keyla’s eyes travelled over him appraisingly. By the look of him he was tall, at least six feet maybe even taller. He was a handsome, well built, man in his late forties, Keyla decided. He looked like he took care of himself: clean shaven, well-groomed.

So you must be new. There aren’t that many hookers in this city, once word gets out you’ll be busy . . . or busted.

That’s for me to worry about, she said, as she put her hand on his thigh. You aren’t going to bust me, are you? she pouted prettily.

That depends.

On what?

On if we can work something out. John said, watching the traffic.

Work what out? Keyla was suddenly defensive. If you’re some kind of undercover cop . . . .

If I was a cop you’d already be busted, he cut off her words, besides there aren’t enough hookers in this area to gain their attention. What I was going to suggest is that we cut a deal.

What kind of deal? she demanded. I work alone.

The kind that pleases both of us, He grabbed her hand and placed it between his legs to illustrate his words.

Go on, Keyla said. I’m listening.

I’ll pay you seven hundred for your services, two full nights a week. He propositioned her.

Eight hundred, she countered, taking her hand away then demanded, and what would I have to do?

Only sex—I’m not into that kinky shit—but you’d have to stay all night, sleep with me. He glanced at her.

I’ll think on it and let you know, she answered him. Turning her head she looked out the window; she couldn’t believe her luck! If this guy was for real, then she’d only have to do this two nights a week. Eight hundred a week would be plenty to pay rent and buy food. She’d even be able to put some money away. She’d be able to stay in school and keep her grades up. No one would have to know about her ‘job’. It was perfect, but she refused to get her hopes up; offers like this didn’t come along very often, if at all. Was he for real? She wasn’t going to think he was serious. She looked out the window and saw that they were in a residential area. Very nice, but she didn’t see any hotels.

Hey, where are we going? she questioned.

Home, to my house for dinner, he said, as though it were an everyday occurrence. They pulled into the driveway of a very large, well kept, two-story house. It was so beautiful that Keyla’s mouth opened in shock. He was serious.

Home for dinner, she repeated. Well, that was a new one. Most tricks took her to a cheap motel or a secluded spot, but never home for dinner.

Are you coming? John asked, as he held the car door open for her.

You live here? Keyla asked dumbfounded.

John nodded, glanced at the house then turned back to her, his face looked pleased. Not chickening out on me, are you? He teased.

Swallowing her amazement Keyla stepped out of the car, took his offered hand, and smiled.

No, of course not. She said squaring her shoulders and walking with him up the trim pathway to the brightly lit front door. She wondered if this was how Cinderella felt entering her first ball.

Chapter two

Reace looked out the kitchen window as he peeled the potatoes and watched a bird fly from the ground to the tree and away. He sighed. To be able to fly away from all your troubles, like a bird, to be free. Reace pushed that idea from his mind. He’d never be free from the past or the present, he thought with a grimace, as he flexed his sore shoulder and he didn’t have time for dreams, John would be home soon.

Reace looked down and concentrated on peeling that last potato, the chicken was already in the oven cooking, and the vegetables were already peeled and in a pot on the stove. All that was left to do was the potatoes. Finished, he threw it in the pot with the rest of them and poured enough water to cover them then put them on the stove to cook.

He sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen and starred at the open book. He had homework to do. His shoulders slumped, it was the last thing his tired mind wanted to do but it had to be done, the report was due tomorrow. Leaning his elbows on the table Reace rested his head on his hands and concentrated, even as his eyes drifted shut.

An hour later he jolted awake, blinking in the darkness wondering for a second where he was. The sound of sizzling made him jump up from the table, and flick on the light as he ran to the stove. He’d burned the potatoes, by the smell of them, swearing he lifted the pot off the burner,

Shit, he muttered. His father wouldn’t be happy when he came home. As if on cue, Reace heard the car pull up in the driveway. Thinking fast, he quickly threw the pot in to the sink to clean up later.

He grabbed some rice off the shelf in the pantry and put it together with some water in another pot. Having no time to cook it on the stove, he looked around to make sure no one was watching then he placed his hands around the pot; one on the lid, the other on the bottom, and focused his energy. The flow of electricity coursed through his blood, and he concentrated, bringing the electricity into his hands, through his fingertips and into the pot. The water boiled instantly and steam poured from the seam in the lid. He placed the now cooked rice on the stove and started to add the ingredients to make the rice appealing. John hated plain rice.

Reace hoped that John was in a good mood tonight. Hearing the front door open and close, he instinctively stiffened. When he heard two sets of footsteps and feminine laughter; Reace got curious and set out down the hallway toward the front door to investigate.

Hey, dinner ready? John asked when Reace came into the front hall. John laid a hand on Reace’s sore shoulder. A cold smile stretched over his face as his eyes took in his son.

We have a guest tonight. John said; his eyes narrowed in warning.

Who is it? Reace asked, purposely avoiding the question about supper. He didn’t want to tell his father that he was eating rice instead of the potatoes.

Where are your manners? John demanded as he tightened his grip