Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign (Worlds of the Crystal Moon, Book 1) (9 page)

“What do you mean, ‘
our’
destinies?” George barked in a sarcastic tone. “Do you actually believe this crap? It could be referring to anyone, not us. I think it’s vain to think we’re the group it’s talking about.”

The jerk threw his hands in the air. “I don’t think any of us wants to be the one who falls by the wayside. Doesn’t that mean death or something tragic? I sell RVs and boats for a living for hell’s sake. I’m not a part of any prophecy. Tell him, Shalee. You’ve got to feel me, right?”

Shalee looked at George, then at Sam. “I kind of agree. This does seem pretty weird. I’m just an architect, and I can’t fathom being part of a prophecy. But…” she hesitated, “but how fun would it be, even if only for a little while, to do something different for a change? I mean, don’t you ever…” She shuffled her feet. “Don’t you ever want to be a part of something larger than yourself? What if…? What if it’s…?”

George exploded. “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re nuts! I must still be sleeping!” He turned to Sam. “I’ve officially met my first genius, and you’re pathetic. How could you be so off in the head? Wait, I know ... it’s because of everything that’s crammed in that brain of yours.”

George turned to Shalee. “And you take the cake! You’re buying into this crock! I knew blondes were—”

Sam interrupted, “You finish that sentence, and I’ll break you in half! I never said I bought into any of this, and neither did Shalee. She simply said it would be fun to be a part of something different. I think she means she wants to be a part of something important.”

George threw his hands up and walked off. “Whatever!”

Sam shook his head in disgust, turned, and started to pace. “Okay, okay.” He took another deep breath to collect his composure. “Let me think this through for a minute. A better plan is in order.”

George returned to the group. “You’re right. Let’s just chill for a bit. We won’t get anywhere if we don’t work together. I was wrong to get upset. So I apologize. What are we going to do now?”

Shalee smiled and accepted the apology. She also acknowledged the need to keep clear heads. Turning to Sam, she said, “Well … it’s sort of looking like you’re the brains of this here operation. I happen to be all ears.” Shalee grinned flirtatiously as she put her right hand on Sam’s left shoulder.

George rolled his eyes. “Can we get on with the brainstorming? You guys can get a room later.”

Shalee blushed and pulled her hand away. “Yes. Let the brainstorming begin.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s look at this logically,” Sam said as he studied the inscription. “We have in front of us a puzzle, it seems. ‘Awakening the statue’ must be a metaphor. At least I hope it’s a metaphor.”

“What the hell do you mean by ‘hope?’” George sneered, forgetting about the fact that he had just apologized. “You actually believe this thing will come to life? Are you seriously that twisted?”

Before addressing George, Sam examined the statue again. “I’m not twisted, but something is telling me we aren’t in Kansas anymore.”

“What?” George roared. “What the hell does Kansas have to do with anything, Captain Cliché? Speak up, Dorothy.”

Sam frowned as he glared at George.

Shalee took a step back and waited for the altercation.

George held up his hands. “Look … I’m sorry. I’m listening.”

Sam took a deep breath and then turned his attention back to the statue. “I know it won’t literally come to life, George, but maybe it will produce some sort of message that will give us a few answers.”

George rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “At least the damn statue would be more interesting to listen to if it did wake up.”

With Shalee on Sam’s heels, the genius circled the statue. George looked back and forth from Sam to the bronze man as he waited for the next big revelation.

“There’s only one thing that’s not like the others,” Sam announced. “I’m sure you remember the jingle. ‘One of these things is not like the others. Can you tell which one?’”

George’s jaw dropped. “Are you for real? Did you just sing a Sesame Street song? What the hell ... a genius singing Sesame Street? What a treat. Why would a guy with your intelligence watch such a ridiculous show? Better yet, why are you stupid enough to let us know you did?”

The hall fell silent as Sam struggled to keep his composure. After another deep breath, he responded. “Okay, okay. It’s like this, idiot. I didn’t watch the show. I preferred the Science Channel while I was growing up. The kids who come into my office watch it while they sit in the waiting room. I’m sure you know what a medical office is. You know, a place with a 300 gallon fish tank, 60 inch flat screen for patients to watch, cozy chairs that cushion the most sensitive of asses, and actual doctors that walk the halls and converse like they have a brain.” He captured George’s eyes. “You know, a place where doctors solve complex medical issues. Oh, oh! And we’re looking for a janitor. You should apply. You can use my name as a reference. I own the joint, so I pull a lot of weight there.”

“Ha!” George scoffed as he ignored much of Sam’s retort. “Sure, blame it on the kids. You expect me to believe you’re a doctor? I bet Big Bird will be happy to hear you’re on call. How about I tell the Cookie Monster to help you with your rounds? I bet Oscar the Grouch has a stethoscope you could borrow, and you could use it to listen to the fish.”

George looked at Shalee. “Dr. Sam is going to save us all. My hell.” He looked back at Sam. “Make your point, Doogie Howser. What were you going to say about your stupid, little song?”

Shalee took another step back, unsure how Sam would react to George’s assault.

Sam clenched his fists. It took all he had not to punch George. After a second thought, he changed his mind and drilled the jerk on the upper part of his right arm. “Shut up, and stop being an ass!” he hollered.

George grabbed his arm after landing on the floor. “Damn it, man! That freaking hurt! Sorry! Crap! Just stop already!”

Sam turned toward the statue without saying another word. He calmed himself by taking three, deep breaths. After a minute, he continued. “Okay, okay. The statue of this man, his wolf, and the base they’re standing on, all look to be made of bronze. The one thing that’s different is this crystal ball and the dragon that cradles it.”

Sam pointed to the orb. “Look. If you get closer, you can see the crystal has creases, almost as if it has been put together.” Sam counted the pieces. “I see five, and since the sphere is made of a different material than the rest of the statue, maybe that’s where we should focus our attention.”

Hearing Sam’s logic, George stood and walked past him. He lifted himself onto the base of the statue, wincing from the pain in his arm. “Damn you, man. My arm almost gave out. This better not bruise, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Sam snapped.

George stared at the fighter. It was not long before he thought better of the confrontation. He turned and looked down at the crystal. “Let’s find out if you’re right, you big bully. Let’s take it with us. I bet it’s worth something.” He bent over and reached for one of the pieces.

“Wait,” Sam responded.

It was too late. George had already grabbed the piece closest to him and separated it from the rest. Before a word of chastisement could be uttered, the other four pieces of the sphere vanished, leaving George holding the remaining piece.

“Holy crap, man! Did you see that? The damn thing just disappeared. Now what?”

Shalee grabbed Sam’s arm and moved behind him. She felt the need to do something, but she had no idea what that something was. She could not explain it, but she knew they were in for a ride.

Sam removed Shalee’s hands, but allowed her to stay behind him. He turned back to George. “Get down from there!”

Before George could take a step, the statue began to shake. The floor beneath opened, and the base of the statue tumbled into the darkness, taking George with it.

“George!” Sam shouted as he watched the jerk disappear into the darkness beyond the mouth of the hole. All that was left behind was the bronze man and the wolf, floating in air.

The fighter paused for only a second before he took action. First, he turned to Shalee and motioned for her to move to the other side of the hall. She went without hesitation, her pink slippers making scuffling noises as she hurried across the floor.

Second, Sam turned to face the floating remains. The floor had reappeared, and now, both the man and his wolf were made of flesh. “So much for metaphors,” Sam muttered under his breath.

Having been caught in many stressful situations due to his fighting and medical careers, Sam remained focused, despite Shalee’s screaming in the background.
Okay, okay. They’re asleep,
he assessed.
But they could wake, and what if they’re a threat?
A moment later, he made a rash decision.
Two against one isn’t fair odds. I should dispose of the wolf first.

Sam darted across the room, grabbed the wolf by its hind legs, ripped it out of the air, and slammed the beast onto the floor. The animal woke. It tried to bite Sam’s arm, but missed. Sam was forced to let go to avoid its sharp teeth.

The beast jumped to its feet and prepared to attack.

Sam’s mind took over, running the scene in slow motion as he prepared for the predator’s next move.

The wolf charged, leaping at the doctor’s throat.

Sam stepped to his right. As the beast passed, the fighter used his fist to deliver a crushing right hand to the left side of the wolf’s neck. His four-legged adversary landed and howled as it turned for another attack.

Sam studied his opponent, his mind searching for weak points. But with all his knowledge, he did not know the creature’s anatomy like he did a man’s. The best way to defeat the wolf would be to get it by the throat and squeeze the life out of it. He grinned and thought,
Easier said than done.

The wolf made three more passes. Each time, Sam managed to avoid the attack and hit the beast on some part of its body. After the fourth pass, Shalee reached down, removed the bunny slipper from her left foot and whipped it across the hall, striking the wolf on the end of its snout.

The beast turned and gave Shalee an “Oh no you didn’t” look and then growled. It had a new target now.

Sam tried to regain the creature’s attention, but the wolf was already moving in Shalee’s direction, slowly at first, and then it broke into a run.

Realizing she was now on the menu, Shalee screamed.

As the beast passed Sam, the fighter decided it was all or nothing. He took three running steps, calculating the angle where the wolf would be when he landed and then launched into the air.

Sam landed with all his weight on the creature’s back, pinning it to the floor. The sudden impact caused the wolf’s saliva to flip free from its jowls and arc through the air. It landed with an audible plop on the end of Shalee’s nose.

The stench was vile. Shalee was quick to wipe it off, but the damage had been done. Her eyes rolled up inside her head as she fell limp to the floor. Her look of terror changed to one of sweet repose as the image of her beautiful face reflected off the polished surface.

Sam sat up and raised his elbow. He was about to bring it down across the back of the animal’s neck when a booming voice filled the hall.

The voice was thunderous and echoed. “ENOUGH!”

Sam and the wolf were startled. Sam dropped his elbow, and the animal lying beneath him stopped struggling. The fighter looked over his shoulder. To his surprise, the statue-man was awake and walking toward him.

Thinking he should finish off the wolf to prepare for the next fight, Sam failed to recall the words on the base of the statue. This approaching man was supposed to be a god, and by the look of things, Sam and Shalee were the two members of the group who had not fallen by the wayside.

Again, Sam raised his elbow to strike, but before he could deliver the blow to the back of the animal’s neck, he was sent flying through the air. The fighter slammed high against one of the pillars closest to where the floor had opened.

Pinned, suspended, and unable to move his arms, legs or head, Sam’s eyes followed the hooded god as he moved to a position beneath him and looked up. “Perhaps you misunderstood. I said, enough!”

The god’s voice was hard and strong. The power behind it filled the air. “My name is Bassorine. I am the God of War. I have chosen to use my statue to welcome you to Grayham. It is I who will answer your questions, and it is you who will listen when I speak. Do we have an understanding, my mortal friend?”

Bassorine waved his arm, releasing Sam from his unseen bonds. As Sam drifted to the floor, he replayed the sound of the word ‘mortal’ in his head. He realized that in his haste to control his surroundings, he had overlooked the godly part of the prophecy and had attacked needlessly.

Knowing he was helpless against such power, Sam reluctantly replied, “I understand,” and further thought,
Besides, I’d get my ass kicked.

Sam said nothing more as he watched the “so-called” God of War walk toward Shalee. Bassorine stopped above her and moved his hand over her body. Her mass lifted from the floor and hung suspended, high enough for the god to stroke her face without bending over.

Shalee’s eyelids fluttered as Bassorine set the human back on her feet. As he waited for Shalee to regain her balance, Bassorine could see the frightened look on her face. “Be comforted, lovely one. No harm will come to you.”

It took a fair series of moments before Shalee was able to calm down. She moved to stand beside Sam after Bassorine motioned for her to do so.

The heavy-coated wolf moved away from the God of War to explore its surroundings. As it did, the beast limped over to Sam and sniffed the fighter’s feet. The animal pulled back and snorted its disapproval.

Moving on to Shalee, the beast seemed to find delight in this new aroma. With each sniff, the wolf’s snout rose higher and higher until it took in a heavy breath of her backside. As it circled to the front, a better aroma was found.

Shalee was beginning to feel violated as she stood in stunned silence. The warm air from the wolf’s snout was passing through her PJs—like Mother Nature’s summer breeze.