Chapter 17: Kevla, the Tragic Sage

He spoke of you often. Of all that you might accomplish. All that you could achieve. You alone can make my dream a reality. You alone can restore the Lurranna clan as the rightful rulers of this universe.

Memories cascaded through Ryan’s mind in chaotic intervals like rapids in a swiftly churning river. Or were they Kevla’s memories? He couldn’t know for certain. The images jumped from place to place so suddenly that it became difficult to keep track of them all.

One minute, they were enjoying a picnic with Ryan’s family in the woods just behind his house; the next, Kevla was going through her telepathic exercises, floating off the ground as she let the peace of her connection to the Caretaker transfix her.

Ryan was running through the woods carrying off carrots from Old Man Alexander’s yard, Henry close behind as he ran for all he was worth on his stumpy little legs. They were both laughing despite the angry protestations of the old Elf.

Kevla was playing a game of catch with her father using nothing but her mind. They tossed small, silver balls at one another, adding more balls as the game went on. Kevla quite enjoyed the game, and even managed to beat her father every once in a while as he occasionally dropped a ball, but she suspected that he was letting her win. He never gave her a straight answer when she asked, even when she asked with her thoughts. How he could conceal things on the Third Plane was beyond her, but she still enjoyed herself nonetheless.

Ryan and Henry led a party of Elven and human children, throwing water balloons made from giant bean pods that his mother grew. More and more children joined in as their game grew ever more elaborate. Eventually, his parents had to step in and stop the festivities as most of the children in the colony had joined in the game and refused to go inside to resume their studies. Ryan’s parents got an earful from the village elders after that fiasco. Ryan felt so bad that he spun the wheel of punishment himself when he got home, but surprisingly, his parents just laughed and said that his contriteness was punishment enough this time.

Kevla giggled as her father swung her around and around using telekinesis only to bring her into his long, gray arms for a warm hug. Her mother joined them, too. They were all laughing. They were all happy.

Ryan listened with droopy eyes as his mother sang to him while tucking him into bed ever so gently. Her voice was so calming, so beautiful. She stroked his hair as he drew closer and closer to unconsciousness. He idly caught a strand of her hair before he drifted off to sleep. Her hair was longer than his, but almost the exact shade of bright red. Ryan loved his mom’s wonderful hair. He loved everything about her.

Kevla felt the wholeness of her mother’s love as she tucked her into her floating bed that lay suspended above the floor. Her mother reached up and activated the various toys that flew around the room while Kevla would sleep. Many of the toys were Dragons and Fairies, but a lot of them were trains. Kevla loved trains. One day, she’d love to board the interplanetary trains that actually traveled in space to other worlds using hyperdrive tracks made of pure energy. Her mother touched her gray head to Kevla, and she felt complete as their psyches interlocked for a brief moment, becoming one and conveying nothing but love.

And on and on it went. They must’ve lived years’ worth of memories with one another as their minds entangled and unraveled ceaselessly. Ryan’s parents. Kevla’s parents. Ryan’s childhood. Kevla’s childhood. Ryan playing. Kevla playing. And on and on it went.

As more time passed in the flood of memories, Ryan gained a few short moments of clarity. He could see it all and remember it all clearly, every memory they shared together. Kevla seemed to want to resist these moments. He sensed that she simply wanted to drown in the happy memories of their childhoods. She enjoyed Ryan’s happy childhood memories almost as much as her own. They were new and exciting for her. She liked seeing the world through his eyes. And he had to admit, he did enjoy learning about her own family as well. They had a lot in common despite their cultural differences. They both once knew happiness that had been lost forever.

Lost? Forever? Why lost? Why forever? asked Kevla.

Those words sent Kevla’s mind reeling, and for a moment, Ryan’s own mind was the only one in control. He was able to push back the stranglehold that the beautiful memories had over him. It felt like coming up for air after nearly drowning. If joy was something one could drown in, Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to breathe, but breathe he must. There was still an attack coming. Saria had told him. He had to get out of here. He had to get back to help protect Éclair. To help protect everyone.

Ryan could see the different strings of memory now clearly. They looked like strips of shining, silver cloth in his mind’s eye. As he studied each memory individually, he began to notice a pattern. The memories only centered around early childhood. They had shared no memories concerning their adolescent years. Why was that?

As Ryan searched, he discovered that Kevla had no adolescent memories like he did. Not one. In horror, he realized that she had lived in this place since she was a little girl. She had no memories beyond that of a child because she was never allowed to grow out of childhood.

But isn’t it better to be a child? he heard her think. He couldn’t tell if she was talking to him, or simply thinking to herself. When I try to see past the pretty moments, all I see is pain. I don’t like pain. When I’m in pain, daddy’s in pain too. I don’t like it. I’d rather just stay asleep. Stay asleep in this beautiful dream.

That gave Ryan an idea. A heartbreaking idea that he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. She was just a little girl, after all. She didn’t mean him any harm. Slowly, he could feel Kevla start to assert her influence over this world. She was trying to drag him back, drag him back to the nostalgia of pure childhood bliss, and part of him wanted to let her. But before he could succumb to the promise of uninhibited joy, he reached out and grabbed hold of a memory. It was one of Kevla’s memories, a memory he knew she had intentionally avoided showing to him. He needed to insert themselves back into reality, and this was the only way he knew how.

Everything went black. It felt like they were falling now. Falling away from the happiness and security of their joyous memories as both he and Kevla traveled to the darker recesses of their minds.

Torsha huffed as she ran over the white desert, growling to herself in frustration as Ryan swung limply in her arms.

Whatever’s going on in that thick skull of yours, will you hurry up and figure it out?! We need you to wake up, lame-brain! thought Torsha to herself.

As she ran, she looked back to the examinees who followed behind. “You all know the plan, right?”

Each of them held a tiny piece of cloth from Ryan’s clothing, mostly from the hem of his black pants.

“Roger,” said the two Elf twins in unison as they held their cloth pieces.

“Remind me why I’m doing this again?” asked Explosion Logan.

“Because Torsha saved our butts,” exclaimed Phil angrily.

“Well, yeah,” said Explosion Logan with a wisp of a blush on his cheeks. “But I saved her back.”

“Oh, yeah,” said the chubby Reject Squad member sarcastically. “You were so heroic when you dragged her away from the battle while safely behind the huge, badass Saurian who did all the fighting.”

Explosion Logan squinted angrily at the chubby Elemental, and said quietly, “I will end you, nerd.”

Torsha couldn’t tell if he was completely joking or not, but that hardly mattered at the moment. “That’ll have to wait, boys. Remember. Just get at least a mile away, and then bury the cloth somewhere. Don’t get any stupid ideas of taking those things on alone. That’s what the Minister’s for. We just need to slow them down long enough to get to her.”

Explosion Logan gave a sniff. “I could say the same to you. You’re the one acting all dumb and heroic lately. Makes me wonder if that moron you’re holding rubbed off on you.”

Torsha noted Ryan’s unconscious face as he rested in her arms. “Lovable idiots kind of have that effect on people.”

With that, the examinees all separated, leaving only Torsha and a handful of Light Monks who had survived the Berserkers’ assault. “What’s the ETA on our reinforcements from Corinth?”

“They should be landing any moment,” answered Brother Jonathan. She was glad he survived. He had always been kind to her.

“Any word on Kormal and the High Priestess?”

The Monk lowered his eyes. Torsha felt her heart sink. It was as she expected, but it still hurt to hear.

Lady Lioness. If you have gone to join the Caretaker, then by the Light of our Lord, I will keep this boy alive for you. I don’t completely know why Ryan’s so important, but I’ll do it as much for your sake as for his. I’ll also do it because he’s my friend, and I know that you care for him as much as I do.

The Light Monks soon left the metal buildings of the Fire Ministry Base behind, drawing near to the three-hundred-foot-tall white walls of Diagora Stadium. As they ran along the walls around the perimeter of the coliseum, Brother Jonathan pointed up to one of the battlements.

“We should take a rest there for now. It’ll give us a good vantage point to gauge how the plan is working.”

Torsha nodded. As they neared the battlements, each Light Monk shot a rope of light that grappled to the top of the tower. Then, they shimmied their way up using Light Elemency. Torsha had to manage with only one hand as she held onto Ryan, but her superior physiology as a Werewolf made it possible for her. When they reached the top at least a few hundred feet up, Torsha took a few seconds to pant with her tongue sticking out. She hated having to pant. It made her seem more dog-like than lady-like.

Composing herself, she asked, “Do you have a readout on their position?”

Brother Jonathan brought out a map of the facility on his wrist communicator. Torsha had forgotten just how massive the Diagora Stadium was. A veritable city in its own right. Brother Jonathan pointed at their position at the top of the wall, and then at three large, black dots that must’ve represented the Berserkers.

“They should be coming up at the points we sent the cloths. If the diverting scents distract them, we’ll know soon.”

“I just hope it works better this time,” commented Torsha. “Maybe with more scents to distract them, it might take them longer to find him again. But if not, we should get ready to move again soon.”

One of the younger Monks closer to Torsha’s age shook his head. He was a Steward like Torsha, though a bit less experienced, and it showed as his face glistened with sweat and fright. “I still can’t believe it. I’ve never seen anything like those things. Light Elemency didn’t even faze them. How are we supposed to fight that?”

“With perseverance and faith, Brother Michael. Never falter in the face of adversity. You can feel fear, but have the fortitude to overcome that fear and do what is right,” responded Brother Jonathan with all the dedication and serenity one would expect from a full-fledged Light Monk.

Torsha smiled and felt encouraged despite herself. Though she still added. “Perseverance and faith are all well and good. But I think some heavy ordinance wouldn’t be out of the question either.”

Other Monks might’ve found her comment too sassy, but Brother Jonathan just laughed. “I think you’re right about that, Sister Torsha. I’ll ask our reinforcements from Corinth to bring some starfighters with them. If we can destroy these monstrosities from a distance and spare lives, then Lord Caretaker be praised.”

Torsha gave her thanks for the acknowledgement. If she was destined to leave the Monastery when this was over, there would be many faces she would miss. Some she wouldn’t, but at least she would leave knowing she still had friends among the Light Monks. As Brother Jonathan consulted the other Light Monks on their battle plan, Torsha got an incoming communique from Grafael, but audio only.

“Grafy. Can you confirm if the Berserkers have taken the bait?”

“I-I don’t know. They’ve just stopped.”

“Stopped? Really? That’s it?”

“That’s it. They just stopped,” he repeated, sounding slightly indignant. Saurians did not like to be questioned. To do so was nearly tantamount to calling them a liar, something no one should do if they wanted to continue living.

Torsha turned to Brother Jonathan for confirmation. He nodded, pointing at the three still images of the Berserkers on the map. The Berserkers were still many miles away, so Torsha wasn’t too worried about them catching up. Unless they could teleport, but they hadn’t demonstrated an ability like that thus far.

“Where are you exactly in relation to their position?”

“I’m only a few paces behind. I can see them clearly.”

Torsha drew in a sharp breath. “That’s way too close, Grafy!”

“Don’t worry. They’ve mostly just ignored me so far. It’s infuriating, really, considering how much I’ve inconvenienced them. Wait.” He said the last part with a note of uncharacteristic caution. “They ... they’re doing something. All three are raising their hands, palms up. They’re moving their arms to the left and the right in unison.”

“To the left and to the right?” repeated Torsha in confusion. Then a thought occurred to her. “The pieces of Ryan’s shirt! We sent them to the left and right of the Berserker’s current position.”

“Now they’re pointing their fists straight ahead. Wait, no. They’re raising their fists up and to the left slightly. I think they might be...

Torsha heard a loud crashing noise muffle the feedback as Grafael paused for a moment. She almost feared something happened to him until his panicked voice came in over the communicator.

“By Rhuknor! Wherever you are, leave now, Torsha!”

Torsha couldn’t process what Grafael was saying, couldn’t understand the magnitude of his warning ... until it was too late. A shadow passed over her face. She looked up to see an enormous boulder as large as a small mountain heading straight for her.

Ryan saw death. Friends he had known for years. Little brothers. Little sisters. There was a plague going through the Sages’ home planet of Placoon. A plague that targeted the young. Ryan had contracted the disease, too. He felt so weak. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. Worst of all, it hurt to use telepathy. He could no longer speak with his soul to his parents. He could no longer share his heart, or feel their hearts in turn.

The doctors said that it was too risky. The only thing he could do was sit in bed and summon up the strength to talk every once in a while. Words felt so shallow next to the myriad of images and feelings they could convey to each other through their minds. He felt so scared. He wanted his father to conjure comforting images for him to help him sleep, the way he did whenever he got scared.

But his father couldn’t. He listened to the doctors, saying that it was best to just use words to communicate for now. Ryan found himself hating those doctors. He knew he was dying anyway. He knew he’d soon be joining all his little brothers and sisters from school. His parents said that they had gone to a wonderful place called the Realm of Light where they would no longer suffer, where they knew only peace and happiness. He believed them, of course. He knew his parents would never lie to him, but he still felt scared to go to that place himself. As wonderful as it sounded, it would still be a place without his mommy and daddy.

So before he went, he just wanted to feel one moment without pain. Just wanted to know one more moment without fear. Only his parents could help him by using their minds. He begged his parents to touch him with their thoughts. Let him know their love one last time. The mind felt more real than this course reality. He just wanted to go there one last time. With their faces ashen, they refused yet again. With a great deal of strain, he tried to reach out and touch them. It hurt more than anything, but the loneliness was far worse than the pain. He reached a weak hand forward, imagining his will extending from his hand to touch his father.

In a panic, both his parents took his hand tenderly, but with urgency. They must’ve noticed the blood running down his nose and his ears. That always happened now whenever he tried to use his mind.

“Please, darling. You must stop. You’re going to hurt yourself, so just stop,” his mother said through sobs.

But he didn’t stop. He felt them. There beyond the pain, he could feel their minds. The very essence of their souls. Their hearts ached, just like his, but they also burned with love and understanding. He craved that more than anything. If he could just push a little further, he knew he could touch them.

“Doctor! Doctor, come quick!” he heard his father shout with his mouth and with his mind.

So close. So close. Before he made any progress, the doctor came in, injecting him with something that made him go to sleep. He had nightmares after that. He was in a dark place. It was like the woods where that cat killed that poor little mouse. He ran for hours searching for his parents, his voice going hoarse from shouting their names. But no one called his name back.

He remembered only small moments of fluidity after that. During spurts of consciousness, he saw his father and mother arguing.

“There could still be hope for her to recover!” his father shouted. He never raised his voice to mother before. His desperation etched in every syllable as he said, “Some of the children have before! But that ends the moment we try to touch her!”

His mother sobbed, grabbing Kormal and shaking him as hard as she could with her skinny arms. “You don’t know that, Kormal! You don’t know that! All I know is that my baby needs me! Maybe I can lessen the strain ... make it easier for her! If I used the Kroll’mah-”

“You know it’s forbidden, Kemar! You’d risk becoming a carrier! No! Besides, something like that is almost as foolish as the Toll’mah!” He spoke passionately, but a bit of uncertainty sank into his voice. Ryan never knew his father to be uncertain. “We ... we let the doctors do their work. They ... some of them say that there is still hope. She could still pull through.”

At first, Ryan’s mother beat against her husband’s chest. Then she pressed her gray head to him and screamed. In between sobs, she managed to croak out, “She begged us, Kormal! Don’t you understand? She begged us to touch her! She must feel so lonely ... so scared! I could help her! I know I can ... but you won’t let me! Curse you! You won’t let me!”

His mother continued to sob against father’s chest as she gripped him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, but his expression was stunned - shocked beyond pain itself. It wounded Ryan’s heart more than anything to hear his parents say such awful things to each other. To blame one another. And all because of him. It was his fault that his parents were in pain. It was his fault they felt this way.

Enough, he heard a small voice say in the darkness. But he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the voice. He was inconsolable. The pain was too much. The loneliness was too much.

There was more. His eyes were closed, but he could feel his father holding his hand. Again, the urge to touch him was overwhelming, but he was too weak to try. His mother was holding his other hand on the other side of the bed.

“I am sorry, Elder Kormal, but there’s nothing else we can do,” came the doctor’s sympathetic voice. “It is almost time. We will put her to sleep peacefully when you are ready. It will be better than waiting for the worst to come.”

“Please, lower the dampening field. Let me touch her,” his mother’s voice said in the background, her tone sounding anguished. “Please let me touch her!” she repeated more forcefully.

“Apologies, Elder Kemar. But we cannot let a Sage of your caliber risk infection. The disease grows more prevalent the stronger the mind is. We must not allow the contagion to spread further.”

“The disease won’t hurt me. It rarely affects adults. I’ll take the suppression pill and never use telepathy again, so I won’t be able to spread it. I just need the chance to comfort her now.”

The doctor spoke once more, though not without sympathy. “Again, I am sorry, Elder Kemar. But that cannot be allowed.”

Ryan couldn’t open his eyes, but he could remember their faces. His mother weeping harder than she ever wept before. That look on his father’s face. Beyond desperation. Beyond reason. Ryan was loathe to think that would be the last image of his parents.

“She’s going to die alone. You’re letting my baby die all alone,” he heard his mother say quietly.

In an even quieter voice yet, Kormal whispered. “No.”

All went silent. It felt like everyone in the room was watching Kormal’s back.