The Redeemer Page 3

  And life…oh glorious life…

  Gregory remembered when he’d woken up in the enchanted chamber in Empia fully healed. His daughter had made him promise to never reveal its secret. And Gregory never did, until he shared the knowledge with his parents. They had only nodded with small smiles at their lips and a peaceful glow on their faces. It was the last image he’d seen of them before they passed away.

  The truth had always been there, but he had been afraid to delve into his past. It only eventually caught up to him anyway, like a relentless monster, gobbling up his entire life, the bones having been spat out, leaving behind a pathetic existence.

  So how did, then, secrecy really benefit anyone?

  It benefits the temple and its secrets, his inner voice reminded him. Therefore benefiting all humankind.

  Gregory could help the officers, but how could he help without compromising the knowledge of Cassandra’s existence?

  “Don’t mind the temple, men,” Gregory continued, “because if what you say is true, then we’ve got worse things to worry about than just the temple.”

  Kenneth studied Gregory with his dark eyes.

  “We will be back.” Kenneth gave a nod to his men that it was time to leave. He looked back. “In the meantime let us know if anything comes to mind that could help us.”

  The men left, and Gregory caught the real meaning in the commander’s words: Help us…and it’ll help you…

  Kenneth and his men stood outside of Gregory’s manor, feeling the late summer wind telling him fall was on its way.

  “Do you really think this tactic is really the wisest?” Nolan asked quietly, away from the other men.

  Commander Kenneth Knight and chief officer Nolan Epsom knew were the temple was. They just couldn’t get inside of it. Queen Theresa Richmond said her son, James, wasn’t there when the temple disappeared. The Queen’s Guard who had gone to Empia a month after the battle said they could feel its energy, but they couldn’t see it. Commander Roland was about to call off the mission when he noticed how the island’s inhabitants kept a watch on them. It was the way they looked at Roland and his men that kept them there: worried. That worry was worth investigating. And sure enough, a day later, they found a wall of energy they couldn’t walk through. They touched along it until they all agreed it was a massive structure that could only be the temple.

  Years later Queen Theresa gave up on trying to figure out how to get inside.

  The Daigan emperor continued the search that was begun by Aurialus’ commander Roland Tydal. Queen Theresa remained in the picture by having her commander involved in the exploration. But Kenneth vowed he would be the one to unlock the secret.

  He just needed to find the key.

  He had hoped that Cassandra was still alive, but the Emperor had his spies watch Gregory for years until the Emperor was convinced that Gregory Wynstrom and Prince James Richmond had been telling the truth; Cassandra had died in the Great War.

  “Right now, Gregory needs to keep believing two things: that we trust him when he says his daughter is dead, and that we don’t know where the temple is,” Kenneth told Nolan. “Sooner or later he’ll let something slip. In the meantime, we will continue investigating everything and anything.”

  Commander Tristan left his group of men and joined the Emperor’s officers. He looked down them, his blond brows in a frown. “What are you two up to? Remember to keep the queen informed at all times; don’t forget to whom Daigos used to belong to.”

  Ken inwardly frowned but maintained a stoic expression. “We are done for the day, commander. And if finding scraps for information keeps us behind, the emperor will call it all off. We’ll inform you of our next plan on the morrow.”

  Commander Tristan gave a nod and returned to his men.

  Kenneth gave Nolan a slight grin.

  Chapter Four

  Ryan placed two folders on his desk and fingered the second one. He had forgotten to mention the second case to his mother yesterday while they were at the restaurant.

  It belonged to a peculiar man named Adam Bergamot. The man in his late forties appeared otherwise physically fine, yet complained about a pain in between his ribcage. But after two separate visits Ryan gave the same diagnosis: there was nothing there. Ryan had suggested that Adam just meditate to ease any anxiety that may be causing his chest discomfort.

  Meditation eased any psychosomatic turmoil. Ryan’s mother had instilled that in him. At times, he desperately needed it. He remembered when he was twelve he got upset with a neighborhood boy. Ryan’s mother showed up at the alleyway with an expression the end of the world was coming. The older boy had picked on him and Ryan was ready to fight back. Something besides anger erupted within Ryan erupted…a source stemming from somewhere unknown to him.

  “No,” his mother had warned.

  After Cassandra told the boy to leave, she turned to young Ryan. “Never let your anger guide your motives. Relax and think with thought, don’t react on impulse”.

  During Ryan’s teenager years, she enforced meditation on him on a daily basis. Now it was second nature for him to fall into mind’s place of exotic beauty: the beach. He didn’t know if such a place existed – maybe he’d seen in when he was younger and the image stuck – but he would sit in the sand in front of a blue ocean and watch the sunrise.

  Ryan blinked, nearly getting lost again. He got up, ran his hands through his hair, and went to the window.

  Across the street customers made their way into the Wayfarer’s Wagon for lunch hour. He grinned, thinking about the beauty named Stephanie working inside, the one responsible for Ryan’s distraction, thus forgetting to reveal Adam’s file to his mother. But then again, perhaps it was better this way; his mother had been a little paranoid at times and speaking of Adam would only inflame her imagination.

  The bell chimed over the doorway, followed by heavy heels across the wooden floor. It was his childhood friend: Walter Kieran. When Ryan’s mother had finally moved back to civilization around the time Ryan was ten, a close friendship was forged between the two men.

  Walter ran a hand through his thick brown hair and Ryan grinned; parts of his hair sprout up, reminding him of an arched back of a porcupine.

  “Do you want to hear the strangest news this town has ever heard?” Walter asked.

  Around them on walls picture frames hugged imageries of oceans and sandy beaches. In the back room was a physician’s examination table. Walter followed Ryan to the desk where they sat across from each other. Walter unbuttoned his vest, relieving the straining buttons.

  “Strange news, huh,” Ryan said, leaning back in his seat. “You know I’m always interested in strange news.”

  “Well, my parents moved here from Bay Haven before I was born. One photo had my mother pregnant with me, smiling, waving at my father as he took it. There was another picture of my mother due to give birth any day while my father was in the background, fixing the house…”

  “Walter-

  His friend held a hand up and continued. “Why move away all of a sudden after my father had spent so much time restoring the house and with my mother about to give birth to me?”

  “Maybe he wanted to upgrade it before it got appraised for sale, Walter. Maybe he wanted to start an even better life for you, which I’m sure turned out better considering you are all wealthy and happy now.” Ryan knew how Walter had an active imagination, full of conspiracy theories about anything. He was worse than his mother.

  “Really, Ryan, who moves when their wife if nine months pregnant? What sent my parents packing so fast? If they wanted to move for a better opportunity at life, then why do so when I’m about to be born?”

  “Walt, I’m sorry. And I don’t know. But does this have anything to do with your interesting story?”

  Walter grinned. “The Hand are asking questions; they are concerned with the sudden high crime rates, something they haven’t seen in twenty years.” Walter inhaled with growing excitement, catching his breath. “Some are still garrisoned in the east at Bay Haven and High Fernan and I know this because I took a trip there to see how much my parents had sold that house for.”

  Ryan looked at his friend, admitting the story was becoming intriguing. “They sold it for very cheap? Right? Perhaps your father had just received a great job opportunity.”

  Walter looked down at his lap.

  Walter’s parents had recently died during a fishing trip on the lake. Ever since then, Ryan swore his friend’s imagination had been running wilder. He was just waiting for the day when Walter would say his parent’s death was not an accident.

  The Hand suddenly investigating an increase in crime was something to pay attention to, but not enough to call it anything unusual or interesting until the Queen’s Guard got involved.

  “Walter. How much did your family sell the house for?”

  Walter glanced at him. “Nothing; they didn’t find a buyer in time and just left. Donated it.”

  Ryan frowned. “What?”

  Walter shrugged. “It’s probably like what you said: my father got a great job opportunity he could not refuse.”

  Ryan shook his head. “No, no. Nobody sells their house for nothing no matter how great the job offer is, especially when a child is on its way.”

  Something stirred in Ryan’s blood, awakening something…an instinct existing on a distant level he had barely touched before. It was like his gift had a friend, a very shy one. It was awake, no longer withdrawn, and it told him there was indeed something more going on here than just regular crimes when it made people get rid of their homes for nothing. His gift urged him to investigate it. He knew he came from an unusual race he was told to keep quiet about. So, perhaps there were other unusual types out in the world other than his and the Empians who were destroyed in the Great War.

  Walter sat up. “So you’re with me?”

  “All right, Walt, it’s all remarkable, but I’m not sure what it is you’re implying. You’re not talking about monsters or ghouls or anything, are you?

  “Well, I really don’t know, because when I did my own research and asked my own questions, no one was talking about anything. Nobody seemed to be aware of any crimes from the last two decades just like they’re clueless now. So why would The Hand be so concerned?” Walt shrugged. “Whatever is going on, it is bad: when I left Bay Haven I stopped in Stonefort and found out there used to be a beautiful theatre, and now in its place is a park that nobody visits. I was lucky enough to catch someone say how the theatre burned right back into purgatory. When I questioned him what he had meant, he got up and walked away without another word.”

  “So,” Ryan said. “Demons existed in that theatre?”

  “Let’s hope not.” Walter said. “But it makes me wonder: what if the Great War did not kill all of the Empians? According to everyone, Empians had followers who were Dark beings.”

  “Dark beings?” Ryan studied his friend. “You’re a journalist for the Daigan Days, why you don’t you go and dig a little deeper?”

  Walter sighed, looking at him. “If you haven’t been listening, I have tried all that I could. I need something more.” He pointed at Ryan’s gloved hands. “I need those.”

  “Huh?”

  “Perhaps with your skills, you can help me find out things no one else can. Maybe you can see what that town’s history truly is, and what happened there.”

  “I don’t think my gift works that way, Walt.”

  “Well, then, you’ll just have to come along on my trip as a desperately curious companion.”

  Ryan knew his friend needed to get out, especially after what happened to his parents two months ago. His career as a journalist stalled because he could not find a story that would take his mind off of his parents’ death. He became known as a journalist who flamed out. And, admittedly, Ryan found this story titillating, something both his instincts and logic agreed with. Besides, his friend needed help, and Ryan hoped they could dig up something that could fire back up Walter’s career.

  “I will go with you and help you in any way I can, as long as you promise me one thing,” Ryan said.

  “All right, what?”

  “If you find out something that can endanger your life, swear to me that you will drop the story and leave before an accident happens to you, all right? I’m sure a lot of other journalists have wanted to investigate this, but there must’ve been a huge reason why it’s so hushed. So, as long you drop it when it becomes dangerous, I will help.”

  “All right, I promise. And since you are coming, I am sure you will be the first to let me know of any danger,” Walter said with a smile, glancing at Ryan’s hands.

  “Well,” Ryan smiled, “you’ve just finalized my decision then, haven’t you.”

  ☼

  Ryan gazed through the window, ready for the trip he and Walter had discussed yesterday. He had his suitcase packed up early in the morning, after he had spoken to his mother. He hated to lie, but he didn’t want to worry her about where he was really going, and what he was really doing. He told her he was going to a seminar in Forshaw.

  When he saw Walter’s coach pull up to the driveway, Ryan hurried out of the house. He wanted to give his mother a proper goodbye, but was worried she would see the dishonesty in his eyes and then stop him.

  Walter stood by the horse-drawn carriage, tapping his right foot on the gravel road. He wore a casual suit and a dark blue long coat and hat. Ryan placed his luggage in the little compartment in the back of the coach before climbing inside the carriage large enough to fit four people.

  The driver brought the coach out of Sun Valley and Walter exhaled long enough to fog up the window.

  Walter turned his hazel eyes on Ryan. “We’ll be gone for a total of five days.”

  “So we will only be in Bay Haven for one day,” Ryan said, hoping his friend didn’t hear the lack of enthusiasm in his tone.

  Ryan couldn’t help but feel little resigned about the trip since he had time to sleep on it; it wasn’t worth travelling so long just to curb his curiosity.

  But you’re doing it for your friend, a light voice in his mind reminded him.

  “Is your mother at all curious or suspicious about our trip?” Walter said, unbuttoning his vest.

  Ryan gave him a meek smile. “I didn’t want to worry her by telling her how long we are actually going away for.”

  “Yes, it would be upsetting to see such a woman distressed,” Walter said.

  “Stop it,” Ryan said. “It makes me uncomfortable when you blush at the mere mention of her.”

  “I’m sorry, Ryan, I know she’s your mother, but she is beautiful.”

  “I realize her appearance is unusually youthful, but I would prefer that you kept those thoughts to yourself.”

  Ryan turned his attention to the road outside. Life existed wonderfully if not a little protectively; there was a heavy growth of trees lining the gravel paths between towns. The sun struggled to peak through the greenery and foliage. Yesterday he was mostly looking forward to the trip and helping his friend out. But today he was a little apprehensive and wasn’t sure why.

  “You’re wearing those gloves to protect your gift?” Walter asked, glancing at Ryan’s hands.

  Ryan grinned back, but wryly. “I wear them to protect me; it helps shield my knowledge from people, like a barrier, because I’ve discovered I don’t always want to know everything.” He looked at Walter. “And I’ve discovered I can also read objects.” Ryan shook his head. “I’ve stopped growing into a man, yet my abilities continue to grow.”

  Walter studied his friend with a slight frown, his body jerking side to side from the movement of the coach. “What do you see?”

  Ryan glanced outside: rolling landscapes of prairie homes were nestled peacefully within a bright sun-soaked land. But he knew that it was sometimes a façade, thanks to his gift. “I mostly see things that are disturbing; I’ve learnt that the most strongest or violent things remain on objects and people. It’s like washing your laundry and the worst stains remain. It’s the strongest stains that are stuck on people and things. I’ve walked into shops or restaurants and I’ll sense something, other times I’ll see images and they’re always about things that have already happened.” He raised his gloved hands. “When I wear these, I’m protected.”

  Walter’s appearance went from concerned to excited. “Well, Ryan, when we arrive in Bay Haven, throw those gloves off!”

  Ryan grinned back at his friend’s enthusiasm. Perhaps the trip would be full of wonderful memories, ones that they would create, not overshadowed by other people’s imprinted ones. He needed to heed his own advice in looking at the brighter side of things in life.

  ☼

  Canter Clove greeted them in the evening with a silent, comforting retreat; lights glowed in the windows from the quaint homes. Stars sparkled in the sky, reflected in the small lakes.

  They stopped at a hotel secluded in the dense woods, away from the major residential area. They ate in the hotel’s restaurant amid easy-going patrons, and then turned in for the night.

  The next day, they traveled across the country until they arrived in Draven. But with ever-increasing scrutiny; the closer they got to Aurialus, the tenser the atmosphere became in each place. Here, the townsfolk watched them closely, and Ryan figured they were a tight-knit community who kept an eye out for each other. Some glanced at Ryan’s gloved hands with a frown.

  Ryan found that it wasn’t just his hands that possessed capabilities: it was really his body, it was a source of energy that could seek and speak an unknown – or forgotten – language humans once were able to do. Or it was just reserved for his race of people. He just had to make sure he didn’t bump into people when he wore thin clothing. But his hands seemed to be the strongest source of his power. And – unfortunately – the easiest to contact people with.

  Before they turned in for the night, Walter asked if Ryan could remove his gloves and read him. Ryan responded said he didn’t want to know his friend any more than he already did; it was all that he could bear. Walter grinned and said never mind then.