Hidden Hope (Hidden Saga Book 3) (20 page)

I had a vague idea of what the Opening Ceremonies would be like—music, dancing, fireworks—a spectacle. I’d seen the Olympics on TV before. But being there in person was a whole different thing. It was simply overwhelming. TV might have been great for amplifying glamour, but there was no way it could convey the majesty, the sheer
hugeness
of an event like this.

Mom, Davis, and I were seated in a luxury box at the Olympic Stadium, a gleaming, ultra-modern structure that had been erected in Widett Circle specifically for the opening and closing ceremonies and the track and field events. It stood in sharp contrast to the city’s colonial era buildings and made me feel sort of like I was in a gigantic oval space ship that had set down next to the Southeast Expressway.

Davis said the temporary stadium would hold 69,000 spectators, and from the looks of it, every seat was filled.

I couldn’t believe the mass of people down on the field, each playing a role, wearing costumes and either dancing, or doing acrobatics, or acting out a dramatic vignette. It was like watching the most elaborate stage show you can imagine—Cirque Du Soliel on steroids.

The production must have cost millions of dollars. There were pyrotechnics, gigantic video screens all around, an incredible electronic light show, glowing props, and an ever-changing set, pieces of which moved on and off the field almost magically.

The music also changed constantly, segueing from one iconic American musical artist’s song into another and then into an orchestra piece. Some were slow and heart-warming, then the beat would pick up and a high-energy number would take place. People around us were dancing, too. When I looked over the railing at the general seating area, it was even more energetic.

All at once, there was a balloon release from each part of the stadium. There must have been tens of thousands of white orbs floating up through the crowd and into the night sky.

The show transitioned into the parade of nations. Colorfully dressed young athletes walked around the track with their teammates, waving frantically as their country name was announced.

After that the Olympic flame made its way into the stadium, carried by a single runner and then passed to a team of identically dressed runners, who took turns carrying it all the way around the track, making their way toward one side of the stadium where a high tower stood, illuminated by spotlights, with a giant bowl on top.

The torch carriers ascended a ramp to the base of the tower and handed the flame to an aging athlete—clearly not Elven by the looks of his stooped posture and shaking hands. To the accompaniment of dramatic music, he held the torch high over his head, then lit another torch, which began moving upward and seemed to fly through the air on its way to the top of the tower.

“It’s on a wire,” Davis said, whispering to my mom, who nodded mechanically.

When the fiery vessel reached the tower’s top, the huge cauldron burst into bright, dancing flames, and the crowd cheered wildly.

That was our signal—it was almost time. Very soon the celebrity singers would take the stage to perform their number, and we’d set our own plan into motion.

Nox had passed the schedule of events on to Vancia, and she’d texted it to me before she and Lad flew to the East Coast. All of our communication had been through her since I’d left California. Believing I was under his glamour and his total control, Davis had allowed me to keep my phone.

Vancia was in it under the name, “Roberta.”

I had tried messaging Lad in the Elven way—to attempt to explain the scene he’d witnessed in Nox’s room—but he’d cut me off with a few terse words.

I don’t want to talk about it.

But…

No Ryann. Not now. We’ll talk at the Games.

Okay, so it wasn’t a total
No.
But it wasn’t exactly a yes, either. I only hoped when all of this was over, when we
were
face-to-face again, he’d give me at least a few uninterrupted minutes to tell him how I really felt about Nox. And about him.

Vancia hadn’t been in contact for a few hours, which increased my anxiety. Had Nox made it here safely? Had someone spotted him and stopped him before he could reach his position?

I looked around, searching the area near the President’s box, where a dark stage jutted out, high above the field. Our luxury box wasn’t far away. As the stage was still in darkness, I couldn’t make out any faces but emerging from a tunnel and spreading across the stage was a collection of figures wearing red white and blue. As they assembled, a sequin occasionally caught a stray light and flashed, like an oddly-colored firefly.

I knew who they were—some of the world’s top celebrities—movie and TV stars, singers, musicians, models, famous authors, professional athletes, and even a celebrity chef. With everything else going on inside the stadium, probably very few people even noticed them gathering there. I only did because I was specifically watching for their entrance.

Cameras were already trained on them from every angle, though they weren’t filming yet—the Jumbotrons visible throughout the stadium still showed the hordes of dancers and costumed figures who filled the field.

But it wouldn’t be long before the stage would light up and Nox would join the celebrities there for their big sing-along-and-brainwash the world moment. That was the plan, anyway.

And as if his miraculous return from death wasn’t enough, he was also going to shock the event organizers by conducting the group in a completely different song than expected—one he’d written himself just for the occasion.

Butterflies in my belly danced along to the deafeningly loud music filling the stadium. If I was going to play
my
part, it needed to be soon. I gave Davis a subtle side glance. He sat completely still, serenely taking in the show.

Was Vancia wrong that he planned to take the stage and introduce the performers, using his Sway to influence the planet during the worldwide broadcast? Maybe he’d changed his mind since sharing that information with her. Maybe he thought the song he’d planned for them to perform would be enough to hypnotize the audience and launch the Dark Elven takeover.

I fidgeted, growing increasingly impatient. I
really
needed him to stick to the plan. How else was I going to get to the stage myself? More importantly, how would I get him to walk through that tunnel?

Before the worrisome thought was completed, he rose from his seat and grabbed my upper arm. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” I stood to join him, playing dumb and trying to hide my immense relief.

Davis didn’t answer, but leaned down, placing his lips close to my mother’s ear. He whispered something before dragging me toward the luxury box exit and the stairs beyond, no doubt ordering her to stay put.

We hurried through the walkway behind the seats, heading for a tunnel entrance in the distance—I hoped it was the right one. I knew it was when I spotted two burly bodyguards standing at the mouth of it. They stepped aside when they saw Davis.

We entered the dark tunnel together, and the drumming of my pulse in my ears nearly drowned out all other sound. This was it. It was about to happen. I was either going to help release the world from Dark Elven rule tonight, or if Nox, and Lad, and Vancia, and I failed, I would be forced to help bring the human race under the control of the most power-hungry, malevolent Dark Elf of them all—my father.

Davis’s fingers dug into the tensed muscles of my upper arm as he swung me around to face him. In the muffled quiet of the tunnel, his voice was menacing and filled with dark glamour. “Now—you’re going to take your place by my side and fulfill your role as my daughter
and
my subject.”

Pretending shock, I asked him, “What do you mean? What do I have to do?”

“You’re going out on stage with me and you’re going to use that oversized Sway of yours
exactly
as I tell you.”

“Me? Up there? With all those people watching?” I paused for dramatic effect, catching movement from the corner of one eye. And then I smiled and gave a blasé shoulder shrug. “Okay.”

His head jerked back at my flippant tone. He knew something was wrong. “You’re not going to fight me at all?” 

Lad and Vancia stepped out of the shadows.

“I don’t have to,” I said. “I think these two can handle you just fine.”

Davis’s eyes widened with shock as Lad and Vancia grabbed him. The sounds of their struggle echoed through the tunnel, but I wasn’t worried about the guards. I’d sent them a very clear message when we passed by them earlier. If my Sway was worth a damn, they were far from here, chin deep in some nachos and beer right about now.

I knew exactly how strong Lad was, and after watching Vancia arm wrestle Nox, I was confident she could hold her own. The zip ties she’d whipped from her pocket would probably come in handy, too.  

“Go Ryann,” Lad shouted. “We’ve got this. Help Nox.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I ran for the stage end of the tunnel, through which I could see a small circular glimpse of light and color. Bursting into the brightness and noise of the stadium, I sent a message to Nox.

We’re good to go. Where are you?

I prayed he was close enough to hear me. We had to be within sight of one another these days for our silent communication to work.

One of the masked characters from the show—American patriot Samuel Adams, actually—stepped away from the sideline area of the field below me and pulled off his costume head. Nox gave me a brilliant smile as he bounded up the stairs toward me, taking them two at a time.

I grinned back.
Welcome back from the dead. You ready for this?

Yep. Time to make some music.

With one final wink in my direction, Nox leapt from the stairs onto the stage and grabbed his guitar from its stand. It was time. My pulse felt like it would hammer right through my forehead as I waited to hear which song would come from the speakers—the one Davis had prepared, which would influence viewers worldwide to accept Elven rule—or the one Nox had written, which would have the opposite message.

The first strains of the music began. Stage lighting slowly illuminated the gathering of celebrities who stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and their images appeared out of the dark on the giant screens.

The awed gasps of the attending crowd collected, sounding like an enormous gust of wind blowing through the Olympic Stadium. And then wild applause and fanatic screams broke out as people recognized the famous faces.

Vancia told me this part of the ceremonies had been kept top secret. The song itself would be released to radio stations and for digital downloads the minute the performance was finished, but up until this moment, only those directly involved knew it was coming.

The surprise seemed to enhance the thrill for the crowd. I could only imagine the reaction of viewers all over the world who’d tuned in to this event. They were going to get much more than they even bargained for tonight.

As one, the celebrities began singing. My heart soared as I recognized a tune I’d heard Nox working on many times when we were together. It was his song. 

And then the crowd and the television viewers got perhaps the biggest surprise of all. The camera turned on Nox, and the face of a beautifully tragic young rock star—whom everyone believed to have died in a high-speed car accident in Hollywood—filled the Jumbotrons. The roar of the audience was so loud it threatened to eclipse the music itself.

Nox raised one hand in an appreciative gesture, then let it drop to his guitar and strummed his fingers across the strings, striking a perfect chord in accompaniment to his celebrity choir. And the words of his song—brought to life by his inhumanly beautiful voice and those around him—came through the Olympic Stadium speakers and the TV’s and streaming devices of millions of viewers around the world.

We’re always on, always connected.

And still we grow more disaffected.

What if we all just turned it off?

All the noise

All the talk

And what if we could turn them on?

Our voices, our smiles, our hearts

And become one. Yeah, we are one.

We don’t need plans. We don’t need screens.

We don’t need tabloid kings and queens.

I need you. You need me.

We need each other—let’s make it real.

We are one. We are one. All the world.

We are One.

The melody was absolutely stunning. I’d never heard anything that moved me more—and I was already a lost cause when it came to Nox’s music.

But as the song continued, I realized his singing hadn’t sent me into a glamour-trance this time the way it had the times before. The saol water really did work.

The final notes of his song played, and Nox’s voice spoke clearly in my mind.

Join me center stage. It’s your turn.