Ascension (18 page)

“How much has my father told you?”

“That right now is not important,” she said. “Now banish all doubt from your mind and focus your energy upon the pencil. See yourself raising the pencil through your mind's eye. Raise it high up and into the air.”

Katherine did as instructed. She closed her eyes and sought to concentrate, visualising the pencil in her mind down to its most minute detail: to its red and black colouring, to its weight and texture, to the length of its lead tip. Yet she could sense that nothing was working. Feelings of frustration surged from within, followed by the onset of anxiety, and soon fear took hold of her thoughts. Visceral images infiltrated her mind; of Ra and his golden stave, of a cloaked Monica atop the rocky precipice and kneeling at her fallen guardian's side, of the ghoulish Namtar glaring down at her through hollow eyes brazen with blue flames. She could then smell the smoke of burning wood, and she opened her eyes. As little embers rippled along the pencil's wooden body, Monica hastily went about stamping them out before they were left to spread.

“I'm so sorry.”

“Do you remember anything from when you first formed your celestial bond?” Monica asked.

“Not really,” she replied. “I only remember him create a strong gust of wind to save me from those Corrupted. And I remember seeing him stand there before me, while he was engulfed in flames.”

“Anzu is not a fire spirit, he is a spirit of the wind and of Anu's kindred,” Monica reminded, fetching a new pencil. “You created those flames and let your energies fuse with his own. Your father had told me of your developing nature with energy, but spoke little on how you'd both sought to manage these changes. He just went about ensuring the organisation that you were both coping.”

“We did have control over it, at least for the most part. At first, I believed I was a witch of some kind, and that this was all some sort of curse. But he explained to me it was a gift, passed on through my mother's side. This fusing of elements…is that what Blake is trying to achieve with the water pail?”

Monica tossed her the pencil. “He is. He works to improve his and Kulullu's celestial connection: to fuse both ice and his guardian's own element, so that he can call upon such power at a moment's notice. The purpose of this exercise with the pencil is to enhance one's control over their individual energy, and is the very first step taken in advancement.”

“Monica, which element does your celestial energy possess?”

Monica retrieved yet another pencil from the bundle and held it in the ends of her fingertips. The pencil's body soon smouldered, and little embers thereafter emerged and encircled about its leaden point.

“As you can see, I am also one of Ra's descendants. Once you can focus your own energy upon objects, to move them without a second thought, then it will become easier to control and manipulate the flames.”

Monica glanced down at her wrist communicator. “Let's call it a night. You must try and get some sleep.”

Chapter 14

Seated before her desk, Katherine sketched away in an old scrapbook. She drew fervently and soon vast depictions of Atlantean technologies covered the page. She could feel the history of Atlantis seemingly course through her veins and into her fingertips, guiding and willing the pencil across the paper as if it were second nature. So vivid were the images, they surfaced one after another from deep within the depths of her consciousness, instinctive and free of any intervening thought. So tranquil were her surroundings at this moment, all she could account for was the scratching of her pencil upon paper, and to the faintest sound of running water from outside her bedroom window.

She looked down through the glass; her father was at work outside, spraying at his new green jeep to rid the amassing of dust and sand about its exterior. As she peered downward, she found the sound of the hose was quite relaxing, for it also helped to distract from the rising humidity brought on by summer. The heat had proven her only obstacle to concentrate fully upon her work of late, and she had pleaded with her father that he look into investing in some air conditioning, or at least purchase a new fan since the current one had tired. But despite the sweat that seeped down from her brow, and the discomfort her soaked shirt brought as it clung uncomfortably against her back, she dared not waver any longer from her intended focus. Down to the smallest detail, she then pursued a perfected translation of her mind's eye to paper. In this state, she believed there was nothing that could break her musing. That was, until she heard a single voice, a voice that violated her ears like nails on a chalkboard; for Blake had arrived at eleven Delphi Crescent. She found his voice both loud and obnoxious as he incessantly chatted away with her father about cars and basketball. Abrupt fits of laughter thereafter followed. She glanced down through her window to find them both spraying one another with the hose.

“Must they do this now?” She grumbled to herself, before she returned her attention to the scrapbook.

But as soon had she'd finally settled back into her work, she heard a knock at her bedroom door that shattered any remaining resolve. Once her father had inevitably entered, she now heard the pitter-patter of dripping water against the carpet. Much to her frustration, he slowly snuck up behind her in his soaked sneakers and cupped his cold wet hands about her neck.

She cried out as she felt his clammy fingertips against her skin, and spun round in her chair to face him. “Why must you act so childish? Can't you see I'm trying to do some work?”

“You won't be ten forever, you don't want to grow up too soon and miss out on your childhood,” he said. “Come down stairs and join in the fun, we're having a water fight.”

She pouted back at him. “I can see that.”

“Would you at least like an orange juice?” He asked. “I can bring one up for you.”

“No thank you,” she said, as she peered out over the window sill. “What is he even doing here?”

“You mean Blake? He's helping me clean the jeep,” he said. “We're also carrying out a little experiment.”

“Do you have to? I don't like him…not one bit.”

She could sense his gaze from over her shoulder. “Why don't you like him?”

“I just don't…okay?”

“These are very good, probably some of your best work yet,” he said.

She sought to erase some of the sketching's. “Blake doesn't think so. At school all he does is make fun of my drawings.”

“Well, what do you think of them?” He asked.

“I don't know.”

He turned for the door. “Although it may matter what others think at times, it's even more important what you think. It is your work after all. And from what I can tell, you get the most joy from drawing for yourself. I also get the sense that he struggles with this sort of thing; maybe you could help him improve? It's rather difficult to be mean to those who want to help you.”

“You're right. He isn't very good at art, and I'm not going to help him.”

“If you've been gifted with an ability that can help others, you should never hesitate in doing so,” he said, as he stood in the door frame.

“I still don't want to help him.”

“You're a stubborn one that's for sure, just like your mother,” he admonished her, stroking with both hands through his wet hair.

“Would she not help him either?”

Her father appeared hesitant with the question at first. “She was so stubborn in the sense she'd help absolutely anyone. Nothing anyone ever said was enough to discourage her.”

His voice soon trailed off, replaced with sound of broken glass. She could also feel the soft touch of feather's about her neck, and felt as if she were about to sneeze. “Master, you must wake up,” she heard her guardian whisper, as he prodded at her side with his beak.

She finally awoke from what had been a dream. She looked downward the side of her bed to where a glass lay smashed.

“Anzu, what time is it?” she questioned, still half asleep.

“It's the middle of the night,” he said. “But you've been talking in your sleep. I was quite worried; I thought you'd been possessed. You see I've experienced of this sort of thing before.”

She groaned at him and motioned for the light. “As well as my thoughts, don't you also have access to my dreams?”

“I do yes…, because of our celestial bond,” he replied. “But I refuse to betray you again; and I have not been permitted to look.”

Yawning, she rubbed at her eyes and slapped at her face. “Is anyone else up?”

“I haven't strayed from your side all night,” he said. “I'm not sure.”

She shook her head, adjusted at her neck, and crawled out of bed to pull on some clothes.

“Where are you going…?”

“Now that I'm up, I need to speak with Ms Hawthorne,” she said, as she stumbled toward the door, careful not to step on any glass.

As she entered the organisation's main corridor, Lance swiftly approached her from the end nearest the training facility. “What are you doing up at this hour?” He asked.

“Anzu woke me. I need to speak with Ms Hawthorne. That is if she's awake?”

“She's up in the control with the director,” he replied. “I shall escort you.”

She followed Lance back along the corridor and toward the facility entranceway. Once inside, she noticed that Blake and Kulullu were still hard at work.

“Hey Blake,” she shouted. “How'd you like to buy my father's jeep? I seem to remember you were rather fond of it…”

Indignant, Blake merely glared back at her.

Lance led her up the winding stairwell and into the control room. Seated before the technical board, and amidst what sounded to be a serious discussion over organisational etiquette. Once made aware of her presence, both Monica and Walter looked back at her with uncertainty.

“I'm sorry to disturb you both,” said Lance.

“Katherine, why are you awake at this godforsaken hour?” Monica questioned, “Is everything alright?”

“Anzu saw it fit to wake me. I was apparently talking in my sleep, and he got a little worried.”

Walter peered past her, and to where her guardian loitered by the door. “He did the right thing. You may come in if you like.”

“I'm sorry again,” said Anzu. “I thought you might have fallen under attack.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Is there something else I should be aware of?”

Walter lurched forward in his chair. “We suspect, as did Anzu it seems, that these Corrupted could be capable of infiltrating our minds and bypassing our defences. We also thought it best not to scare you with mere speculation. And in accordance with your wishes, we're reluctant to involve you any further than is necessary.”

“Well that's actually what I'm here to talk with you about,” she said. “I've decided that I want to help the ‘
Project'
. But, I also want to go home.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Monica questioned.

“For exactly the reason I need to be informed about these sorts of things,” she responded. “I'm now a part of all this; whether I wish it or not.”

Walter looked to Monica for support. “To let you return home would be to put your life at greater risk.”

“Wouldn't it be best if I remained their target? Rather than put those other students of Anabasis High at risk?”

“It is noble of you to put other's safety ahead of your own,” he replied. “But what makes you believe that you have any chance against them, seeing as you've had so little training yourself?”

She knew that Walter made a fair point.
How else can I expect to combat these Corrupted, when I've yet to gain any control and mastery over my own energy?
She thought to herself.

“What if we were to establish an additional base of operations?” Monica questioned, and much to Walter's dismay. “I could then move in with her at eleven Delphi Crescent and ensure her safety.”

“I can't afford to further exhaust the ‘
Project's'
limited resources,” said Walter, unable to hide his agitation with such a proposition. “That; and you no longer have a Guardian to guarantee this protection.”

She glanced over at Anzu, and then to Monica.
What is your intention, why do you want to help me?
She wondered.
How can she be sure I wouldn't betray her trust?

“Lance, are you still there?” Walter questioned.

“Sir,” Lance responded, stepping into the control room with a formal salute.

“Lance shall accompany you and take up residency at your new address,” said Walter. “But he is the only officer whom I can spare. And please note that this arrangement is in place for the duration of the school week only. The weekends however, I will require you all here. Katherine, you shall also commence a full training regimen come tomorrow morning.”

Fairly satisfied with her night's work, Katherine skipped for the door. Monica, Lance, and Anzu followed after, and the door to the control room swiftly closed behind them.

She couldn't keep from smiling as they descended the winding staircase. “I'm surprised he granted me my request so easily.”

“How else could we expect for you to trust us,” said Monica. “Now Katherine, you need to get some sleep.”

“I will, thank you Ms Hawthorne, and I owe you my thanks too Lance,” she replied, glancing back at him and feeling a tad guilty.

“Please Katherine, call me Monica. I shall see you in the morning.”

Once they'd said good night, Monica chose to stay behind in the facility and resume with Blake's training. Lance proceeded to lead both Katherine and Anzu toward the secure doorway.

“Lance, I'm sorry to have gotten you involved like this,” she said, believing he appeared uncomfortable with this new arrangement.