The Light-Field (13 page)

 

Mythric was devastated by the shock loss of the charge he'd been brought to Sermetica to protect. He'd come to believe Starman infallible and, in that belief, Mythric could not bring himself to accept that he'd perished in that explosion — as abrupt as it had been.

The tragedy saw him on the return flight back to the government sector of Heavensgate, where he was escorted straight to the presidential office. He feared he was now expected to explain why Anselm's most promising test pilot and personal charge was no longer with them.

Doltrice, the president's secretary, was awaiting Mythric's arrival with a sympathetic smile. ‘The president regrets that urgent state matters prevent him from seeing you now. He suggested you return home and he will contact you there later today.'

Mythric was numb and, although he felt his partner's death needed to be given due attention, he was relieved not to have to recount the day's events before he'd had the chance to fully digest them himself.

The agent did as suggested and went home.

He was half expecting to find Zeven raiding his bar when he got there, but sadly that was not the case.

 

Why so stubborn! Did you not feel compelled to leave? Now we are both in trouble.

The light retracted from around Zeven and he found himself standing in the middle of the desert, but his legs went to jelly and he fell on his behind, giddy and disorientated. ‘What the?' he mumbled as he took in his surroundings, attempting to figure out what had just happened, and how? There was only one entity that could teleport Zeven against his will whilst he wore the Juju, and that was his Grigorian watcher. ‘Sammael?'

The burning heat from the sun above was intensified by the wind whipping across the baking earth beneath him, and Zeven knew he couldn't loiter long. But he staggered to his feet, as it had been an age since his spiritual guardian had made contact with him.

Leave here, while you still can.

Zeven jumped upon hearing his guardian's voice in his mind. ‘While I still can?' he queried. ‘What kind of trouble are we in?'

There was silence and the intense heat forced Zeven to act. He needed to see Mythric, and he willed himself to his partner's apartment to await his return.

Alarm bells started ringing through Zeven's being, when he didn't find himself teleported to Mythric's bar and the relentless heat continued unabated.

‘What's going on?' He had a very bad feeling, and when he could not manifest a bottle of water at will, he was thunderstruck! ‘
Sammael
, what have you done?' he cried out in frustration and panic — if he had to rely on his regular human attributes to get him out of here, he was a dead man. It was flat as far as the eye could see — your average moon had more shade than this place.

‘Why not drop me in town?' Zeven appealed to the heavens. ‘Because I'm supposed to be dead.' He figured the answer for himself.
‘So the powers that be want to right the oversight, do they? Well, screw 'em!'

Zeven began to walk toward the setting sun, despite having no idea where he was or where he was going. The night sky would be more helpful — if he was still alive by nightfall.

One hour into his trek, Zeven had sweated so much of the water from his body he had to pause to take stock of his decision to save himself — he just didn't have the energy. He fell to the ground and the hot earth burned through his trousers and into his shins. It hurt, but not as much as the effort of trying to stay standing. He reached over and clutched the armband containing his Juju, and hoped with all his being that Taren would sense his need.

Strange that his Juju stone did not seem to be exuding its usual empowering energy and, digging the stone out from its pocket on the inner side of the armband; he was horrified to discover it had lost its celestial glow.
Does this mean I'm off the team?
He panicked and stood; he was truly alone! ‘What did I do that was so bad?' he appealed in his own defence. ‘I hesitated,' he uttered in conclusion.

It seemed to be taking an age for the sun to set and he keeled over onto the hot earth to await the evening shadows or death, whichever came first.

As he lay there, his thoughts turned to Aurora and how she must be feeling, and although he wouldn't have thought he hadn't any moisture left in him, he shed a tear. He couldn't make it up to her this time; he was going to die out here and leave her heartbroken for good!

He raised himself to sit, held his defunct Juju stone and drew a large heart on the dry earth, across which he wrote ‘I love you Aurora!'
I don't know if you can see this?

He didn't know how her Power worked. And if she was his female twin-soul then she shared Sammael's guidance, so had she lost her Power too?

‘Don't think that!' He was most annoyed that his thoughts were running contrary to his aim.

Aurora has done nothing wrong
, he counter-reasoned in his mind,
so why would she be punished for my error?

Once again, Aurora was the only hope he had left. He stared hard at the message.
Please baby, save my arse just one last time …

 

There were ramifications for interfering with causality and Sammael's reprimand was immediate. The Grigorian was forced to abandon his charge in formidable circumstances, as the Watchers withdrew all his influence on any realm of existence. Not Azazèl, Armaros nor any of his Grigori brothers could save his charge in his stead, as his cohorts were dragged into a state of non-compliance with him — for they were all one.

Through the rainbow tunnel of light and sound, Sammael's consciousness was drawn toward the threshold of his individualised existence — toward the great light fields of the Silent Watchers, who had assigned the Grigori the task of assisting the Zagriata to restore love and balance to the galaxy under observation.

Here their Silent Watcher communed with all the other Silent Watchers affiliated with the great cosmic architect, Azazèl-mindos-coomra-dorchi.

Beyond the light threshold where the Grigori could not dwell as individuals was one huge inter-universal hub of creativity. This think tank would decide whether Sammael's trespass against causality would be permitted and the outcome upheld. They would also foresee ramifications and redirect fate in the form of good and bad karma.

Sammael and his Grigori brothers were not required to communicate with the council, but were represented by their higher self, who was one with the Watchers. It felt rather like they were in the waiting room outside the council chamber, and every now and then a faint muttering of the proceedings would filter down into their understanding via their higher self.

From what they could glean from the proceedings, the Watchers foresaw a risk to keeping Sammael's male manifestation in the existence
in question any longer. On one hand he was a great asset, on the other, a high risk due to recklessness in nearly exposing the Zagriata.

It was argued that the soul-mind in question was a great asset to the Zagriata and that he had learnt a great lesson in the advantages of humility and prudence.

The Watchers did not agree that lesson had been learnt, but given penance, the soul-mind in question would be further tested, to see if he could rise above his ego, in time to serve the Zagriata.

This was a relief to all the Grigori, for it meant Sammael's action could be upheld; but that ruling would not be without recompense for his charge.

When the penance was announced, Sammael considered his male charge would probably prefer death to the trial he faced if he survived the desert.

But what of my female charge?
The Grigorian appealed to the Watchers ruling in regard to her.

It was decreed that there would be no karmic fallout lain in her quarter and the news was music to Sammael's being.
I can save him.
He was eager to return to their assignment.

Today maybe?
Azazèl waylaid him, so that he might consider the ramifications.
But his future —

— will be a huge learning experience.
Sammael was determined.
Believe in me.

Azazèl did, without question.
Let us proceed.

But the Grigorian throng were not dismissed.

Sammael, Azazèl, Armaros
. Their over-soul singled them out.
As the triad of being advancing the cause of the Zagriata, you must stay aligned with cosmic will, or risk a backlash in the physical world that renders existence there more wretched than it was before the birth of the Zagriata.

The Grigori heeded the warning most solemnly.

 

Aurora's eyes felt weighted in the wake of her tears and shock, and she drifted into a micro-sleep.

At first she saw only reruns of the day's sad events. Then Aurora's inner vision turned vivid and she felt her temperature rise, as a heart etched in the dusty desert earth appeared in her mind's eye, as if it were laid out before her. The message of love with her name scribbled across it banished all the heaviness in her chest.
This is the vision I asked for!

She awoke with a gasp and a grin on her face, which was quickly replaced by worry.

‘Are you all right?' Reba asked, as Aurora's distress was enough to startle the twins in the front seat of the convertible.

Aurora looked around to note they were just about back at the presidential apartment in the private sector. ‘I need to go to Zeven's apartment, right now!'

‘Why?' Rada was curious.

‘No questions,' Aurora insisted, ‘I just need to go there.' She was distressed, and Aurora knew the twins would humour her without needing her to reveal her motive to them. Aurora could have been wrong about this, but risking exposing her secret talent was worth it, if she had the chance to save Zeven's life!

Aurora's fake government pass came in handy once again, although the twins were well-known by the security station guards and drew a lot of the attention away from their illegal passenger.

When Zeven's car was safely parked in his garage, Aurora instructed the twins to wait in the car. Normally they would have objected, but given the circumstances, they were cooperative.

Aurora bypassed Zeven's apartment door and rang the back door bell of the apartment next to his.

 

Mythric heard the door chime, but was disinclined to raise himself from his spa, where he'd been attempting to drown the day's events in booze. Then the thought that it could be Anselm — or better still, Starman — raised him from his wallowing and Mythric found a towel to wrap around his naked body.

He'd found a door that led from behind the bar to the entrance at the back door, which saved going up and around through the bedroom to get there.
Zeven would never use a door.
That hope flew the coop en route.

When Mythric viewed Aurora on the security screen, he felt the day was only going to get worse. The thought of comforting the grieving diva was enough to put Mythric off opening the door, but with a heavy sigh he dispensed with the barrier. ‘Miss DeCadie, I'm so sorry to inform you —'

Aurora shoved him back inside the apartment. ‘Seal the door.' She advised, ducking through the open door to the bar area.

‘Why are you here?' Mythric just wanted to get the bad news out in the open.

‘He's not dead,' she whispered, and Mythric closed the door at once and followed her.

‘You know what happened?' Mythric queried.

She nodded, keeping her voice as quiet as possible. ‘I saw it. Kapow! But I've had visions about Starman before, and I just had one where he wrote me a message in the sand,' she confessed and Mythric was not entirely surprised she had a Power. ‘I tell you, he's in the desert dying right now, but he is not dead yet.'

Mythric's eyes parted wide upon hearing this.

‘Is there something you can do, some way to track him?' Aurora appealed.

‘Yes, there is,' Mythric conceded, ‘but I need you to leave immediately.' He grabbed her arm and led her back to the door.

‘But I want to come with you,' she pleaded.

‘That's not possible.' Mythric was sorry to inform and although she was disappointed, she did not want to hold him up.

‘Then bring him back to me,' she requested, ‘give him my love.'

‘I will.' Mythric, fearing he was being unfeeling, shoved her out the back door. ‘Trust me.' He reactivated the back door, which slid closed and shut her out.

As soon as Mythric was alone, he thought himself dressed.

He had vowed to Zeven on the first day they'd met that he'd use his Power when duty called for him to do so. He'd been hesitant to confide in Zeven or anyone, bar the Timekeeper, about his talent, as it exposed more about him than he'd like.

Time to discover what I do.
Mythric psyched himself into action and thought of his partner.

 

The figure heading toward him through the fading heat haze of the day must have been a mirage, Zeven figured. It wasn't until Mythric squatted beside him and poured cool water over his head that the pilot realised he'd been found! ‘I've lost my power … couldn't get back.' He grabbed the bottle and drank the liquid down. ‘How did —' His voice was still husky.

‘Aurora got your message.' Mythric pointed to it on the ground next to Zeven.

‘But how did you get here so quick?' Zeven frowned, bemused.

‘Let's talk over a real drink, hey?' Mythric suggested, grabbing Zeven by the arm to teleport them both back to his lounge room.

 

When Zeven landed on Mythric's lounge and the cool of the apartment returned him to his senses, he was completely stupefied a moment.

‘Well,' Mythric broke the uncomfortable silence, ‘now you know what I do.' With a grin, he headed to the bar.