The Mystical Knights: The Sword of Dreams (8 page)

“Nia—do it all ready!” Quinn groaned from the corner, pulling himself into a sitting position.  He winced, rubbing his head.  “Cut him through!”

Nia’s face contorted into an expression of absolute concentration.  Her arms started to wobble, not from the weight of the sword, but from the way she was trying to focus; she could feel her entire body slowly begin to tremble while she stood, praying her brain didn’t burst into flame. 
Why isn’t anything happening?

The monster chuckled maliciously, watching her with bewildered amusement.  Its unyielding eyes were intently rapt on the sword she held in her hands.  Clenching her teeth, she tightened her grip painfully around the hilt. 
C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!
she thought hastily. 

Quinn had pulled himself to his feet.  There was a small spot of blood just on the side of his head that was dyeing that one patch of ash colored hair a dark red color.  He looked over at Rowan, concerned.  “I think she’s panicking.  You finish him!”

Just relax
, the voice whispered gently. 
Relax your mind.  You’re trying too hard. 
Nia sighed and relaxed her face and body. 
Push just from behind your eyes.  You can do this.

Rowan was almost at her side, raising his sword high above his head when it happened.  The most terrible pain laced with euphoria burned from behind her eyes, nearly blinding her from the intense brightness.  It was as though someone had shined a Mag-Lite right into her pupils.  The pain that had burned her retinas coursed through her brain, bubbling and boiling, travelled down her neck, tingled like pins and needles through her shoulders, shot down the length of her arms and
zinged
through the sword, surging loudly with a great whir.

“
Whoa
!” Rowan froze beside her, still holding his sword above his head.  “Quinn—”

“She’s
glowing
,” Quinn noted softly, staring at her in disbelief.  “She’s
purple
.”

On any normal occasion if someone had informed her that she was glowing purple, Nia would have tweaked; it would not have been a good moment for any of them.  But the blinding throb had anesthetized her normal train of thought.  Only three words buzzed through her mind. 
Release it now.

With a final push, Nia’s mind softened even more.  It was like a wave crashing against the ocean shore; great devastating power followed by the soft and calm caress of the sea.  The energy—the light—
whatever
it was—exploded from the tip of the sword, very much in the way a bullet rifles out of a twelve-gage shotgun.  The energy enveloped the shadow creature, wrapping and twisting around it like a boa constrictor.  The monster’s mouth went slack and it screamed such a high pitched scream, Nia felt her ear drums tremble in protest.  Her eyes welled up just as the monster threw up its arms in surrender.  And then, with a tiny
poof
, it disintegrated, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

There was a moment of disorientated silence before the power surged through the house, turning on the lights and appliances.  Nia blinked through the burning, trying to refocus her eyes.  It felt as though someone had pressed white hot wires directly into her pupils; Nia’s stomach churned at the very thought of it.

“You okay?”  Rowan’s whisper sounded quite strained as though he was still caught in a wave of shock.

Nia slowly nodded, turning to face him.  As she did, she caught sight of herself in the lopsided mirror that had slid from its usual position on the wall.  Nia gasped and the image in the mirror brought its hand up to its mouth.

She was
beautiful
, that girl in the mirror.  She was tall and slender.  Purple, gold, and crème colored cloth wrapped gently around her body showing off her slight curves, leaving her midriff completely bare.  The material hung off her bare shoulders, draping across her chest elegantly.  More material wrapped around her legs, stopping just above her ankles—and normally the poofy pants would have just looked stupid, but the style just added to the magic.  Golden bangles wrapped around her wrists and ankles, gently clinking together with every tiny movement she made.  Atop the girl’s head was a light purple satin scarf that sat like a stylish hood on top of the perfect knot that her hair made.  A large curl of her bangs looped gently into her face, stopping just at the slight bridge of her nose.  Her face was perfect too; perfectly painted lips, perfectly blushed cheekbones, perfect eye shadow with intricate strokes of black paint sweeping around her eyelids... The girl in the mirror had to be an ancient goddess, a trick of the mirror and a flaw in Nia’s brain from the small power surge she had just created.  This girl could be anything, but there was absolutely
no
way she and this girl were one and the same.

But every movement Nia made, the girl mirrored back; the same look of awed surprise, the same gentle hand touched her soft lips, the same astonished light touched those vibrantly bright eyes.... Even the large crack in the mirror—

The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly as Nia squinted into the mirror.  She whipped her head around, her eyes widening in shock.

“My dad is going to
kill
me,” she muttered, eyes wide in disbelief.

The house was entirely ransacked; every bill, letter or empty envelope had been littered across the floor like confetti.  The dining room chairs and table had been flipped over—one was even broken into pieces—and the old microwave’s door had been ripped from the hinges after its fall to the tiled floor.  The living room was another disaster area; pictures and paintings had been torn from the walls—poor ol’ Bessie lay on a crumbled heap of broken drift wood and bent metal.  The small side table where Quinn had been thrown was crushed beyond repair.

At the same time, the three Knights lifted their right hands into the air.  “Thank you for your aide,” they chorused together.  Three jets of color—emerald green, royal blue and amethyst—shot down from the rooftop.  Nia felt a rush of heat as the light tingled her body and then it was gone.  Nia looked into the mirror, half expecting the beautiful girl to be there, but she was gone.  Only Nia remained, looking normal, all skinny legged and gangly.  Rowan and Quinn had turned back to their original selves as well—although Quinn’s head was still bleeding slowly.

“Quinn—” Nia reached for him.

“Nah, its fine.”  Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out a black beanie hat.  He pulled it on his head and grinned cheekily at Nia.  “I’ve had much worse.  Are you okay?”

Nia paused, taking in a deep breath.  It didn’t hurt to breath anymore—she didn’t feel as sleepy as before either.  The only pain she felt, which was dulling by the second, was the throbbing headache—the sole penalty of her gift.  Even her eyes had ceased to burn.  “I’m good.” Nia smiled, laughing a bit.  “Actually, I—”

A flash of light shined through the lopsided blinds; a vehicle had pulled into the driveway behind Quinn’s van.  Nia heard the gentle idle of the engine and the familiar slam of a car door.  Heavy footsteps crunched across the gravel.  Nia felt her stomach drop as her eyes opened wide with horror.

“I feel like we have a lot of explaining to do,” she hissed to her friends, eyes darting around the disaster area taking in every toll of damage.  “What are we going to do?”

The kitchen door slammed open and Nia heard the sharp intake of breath her father made.  Sam rounded the corner, his mouth agape, eyes crinkling in mild astonishment.  Nia could see his lunch cooler trembling in his hands from where he stood, trying to make sense of the ruckus.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!”  Quinn half shouted, waving vigorously from where he stood; Nia had to force back a smile—now
this
was the Quinn she knew.  Rowan gave a bashful wave.  He was trying to keep his eyes adverted to the floor.

Sam’s eyes darted to Nia suspiciously.  Nia bit her lower lip in an attempt not to grin again at Quinn’s cheerful approach.

“Hey Dad!”  Nia twisted her wrists behind her back, wringing her fingers tightly in her hand.  She chuckled nervously.  “How was your day today?”

Chapter 7: The Rise of the Phoenix

Friday couldn't have come soon enough.  Nia sighed, shaking her hands free of soapy dishwater. 

Sam almost didn’t allow her to go to school on Wednesday; after the “robbery” the night before, he had wanted to keep her home—give her a rest after the stressful night.  But Nia begged to go and come six-thirty the next morning, she had wished that she hadn’t begged so much.  Her body felt thick and heavy like swamp sludge and her head felt as though it had been replaced with lead.  But she rose anyway, determined to go—only so that she could sit down with the other Knights and discuss what had happened...

“How did you know what was happening?” Nia demanded, watching Quinn and Rowan from across the table with curious eyes.  “How did you know I was being attacked?”

The boys exchanged a quick glance.  “We heard you,” Rowan said simply.  “You needed help—so we came.”

“You heard me?”  Nia blinked, confused. 

“You thought
help
,” Quinn explained slowly.  “We all heard it—clear as day—as though you were standing right next to us.  Rowan and I were the closest to aide you, so we turned back and heeded your request.”

“What’s most baffling to me,” Fiona said loftily, spreading butter across her English muffin, “is that you were attacked
inside
your home.  On your personal property.”

“That’s never happened before?” Nia asked, looking around at each of them.

“We’re supposed to be protected on our own property,” Kenzie replied.  She exchanged a sideways look with Thor.  “No harm should ever come to us while we are in our own or each other’s houses.”

“But apparently we were wrong.”  Thor shrugged.

“Obviously so.”  Fiona placed her muffin onto the tray and folded her hands together, staring at Nia from across the table.  Her eyes were silver fire, mesmerizing and hypnotic.  “But I don’t understand
why...
”

Nia gasped as hot water poured from the sink and onto the floor.  She quickly shut the faucet off and grabbed a dish rag, tossing it to the floor.  She rubbed her foot across the tiles, mopping up the sudsy puddle. 
Why was I attacked?
she wondered, staring absently at a chip in the faux brass handle of the cupboard. 

The others had come up with plenty of theories: Axel wanted Nia on his side (Fiona), the minion was just stupid (Thor), Nia had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time (Quinn, Rowan and Kenzie) or Axel wanted Nia on his side (Fiona, yet again).  But each theory—besides her own—had been nobly shot down by Fiona with a careless wave and an indignant snort.

“A minion is like a puppet,” she had said, rolling her eyes condescendingly.   “Axel gives them an order and they do it.  Axel is
not
an imbecile.   And Nia was certainly not in the wrong place at the wrong time.”  Her eyes didn’t even glace in Nia’s direction; they seemed to be focused on something else, far away.  “Nia was in
her
home—
her
safe harbor.  If anything, the minion was in the wrong place at the
right
time...He
wants
Nia for something...”

But what could he possibly want me for? 
She may have been psychically gifted just like his followers, but what did she have that the rest couldn't offer?

Nia finished washing the dishes and neatly placed them on the drying rack.  She yawned, stretching her arms high above her head.  She was getting sleepy; it was a tiresome task, constantly keeping her Third Eye alert for anything out of the ordinary.  She shuffled into the living room—which had been picked up quite a bit—and curled up onto the couch.  Sam had been able to fix ol’ Bessie and a few pictures.  The poor side table and old television had been ruined much to Sam’s dismay.  Thankfully, the computer had been spared and the kitchen table along with the three of the four kitchen chairs could easily be fixed.  Nia had spent most of the previous evening helping her dad tidy up, fixing and rearranging things.  After her dad returned home from work that evening, they were going out to the appliance store to get a new microwave—apparently Sam couldn’t live without one.

A cop car drove by slowly then; Nia eyes rolled after it, wondering if her father had asked the police to drive by and check up on her periodically—she had already seen the car three times since she had woken up this morning...

Nia found her eyes fluttering open as the sound of a vehicle pulled into the driveway.  She groaned quietly, speculating how long she had dozed off for, shifting awkwardly on the lumpy couch.

“Having a nice cat nap?” a voice asked cheerfully. 

Nia jumped, flopping off of the couch like a floundering goldfish, completely unaware that there had been anyone peering in through the window. Placing a hand to her quivering heart, she set her eyes on a vaguely familiar smile.  “Do
you enjoy stalking people?”

Kenzie giggled.  “I am
not
a stalker.  I am a
people
watcher.” 

“Hang on a sec.”  Nia pushed herself off the floor and shuffled into the kitchen.  Wiggling  the sticky handle, she thrust open the door while Kenzie pranced up the cement block.  “Where’s your mom going?” Nia wondered out loud, watching bemusedly as the old Cutlass began to back out of the drive way.

Kenzie slipped through the door, twisting the sleeves of her beige sweater tediously.  Her long brown hair was pulled up into a ponytail, waving past her shoulders, and her bangs framed her heart-shaped face.  “She’ll be back soon—she's only going around the block.”

“Why just around the block?” Nia snapped the door shut behind her, suspiciously eyeing Kenzie over her shoulder.

“Because it gives me enough time to convince you to sleepover my house tonight.”  Kenzie grinned sheepishly, folding her hands together.  “Please say you’ll come?”

“Tonight?”  Nia hesitated; the only house she had
ever
slept over had been her grandmother’s. 

“Yup!”  Kenzie pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose with her index finger.  “We’re going to play games, watch movies and there is going to be tons of junk food.”  Kenzie paused, pursing her lips in consideration.  “Oo!  And pizza!” She winked.  “There is going to be
lots
and
lots
of pizza!” 

“Hmm,” Nia hummed thoughtfully with a grin, twirling a lock of her hair through her fingers.  “Pizza
and
junk food.  Two of my favorite things.”

Kenzie laughed harmoniously—her laughter was one of the things Nia liked best about her— “And don’t forget about games and movies!” she scolded, waggling her finger mockingly.

Nia smiled, reflectively scuffing the toe of her socked foot against the floor.  “Who is going to be there?”

“Just the girls,” Kenzie said hurriedly.  “Fiona and myself—the boys are going
bowling
.”  Kenzie wrinkled her nose as if she had an itch.

“You let the boys sleep over too?”

“Sometimes.”  Kenzie shrugged.  “My mom locks them in the basement—we sleep upstairs in my room.”

“And your mom doesn't mind?”

"She finds the boys rather comical!  But my dad can't find out—he wouldn't approve. 
Please
say you’ll come?” she begged, tightly clasping her hands together as though she were praying for wealth and good fortune, her eyes pleading fiercely.

Nia shifted her weight from left to right, crossing her arms insecurely around her stomach.  Maybe one night with friends would do some good—it certainly would give her someone to talk to.  Kenzie seemed nice enough; her friendly face always put Nia in a good mood.  It was Fiona’s contemptuous presence that she was worried about. 

“I guess so...”  Nia couldn’t help but lace her words with uncertainty.

“
Excellent
!”  Kenzie clapped her hands together like an excited pixie, flouncing a bit where she stood.  “Okay—do you know where Yvonne Street is?”

Nia’s blank stare pretty much summed it up.  “I bet my father does.”

“Alright—if he doesn’t, he’ll know where Stuart's Market is—that’s by Dairy Queen.  Berwick Street is pretty much adjacent to Stuart’s Market—” Kenzie spoke rather quickly, her excited motor mouth just idling away, while her hands flourished through the air twice as fast.  Nia could feel her own brow furrowing with misunderstanding as she listened to the other girl ramble on about roads and side roads.  “-and when you reach the top of the hill, there with be a cemetery on the left and my street will be on the right.  Light blue Cape house, two stories, sixth house on the left, can’t miss it.”

Nia blinked; all she could remember from Kenzie’s speed drabble was something about a Stuart, a Dairy Market and a Queen Berwick Cemetery.  Half afraid to ask for clearer directions (and half relieved that she remembered
something
from the previous conversation), Nia gave Kenzie a passive grin.  “I’ll ask my Dad,” she said, patting Kenzie’s shoulder.  “I’m sure he’ll know where Yvonne Street is.”

“Excellent!”  Kenzie beamed brightly, just as her mother’s car rolled back into the driveway.  “Be there at six, okay?  Bring sleeping stuff—oh!  What kind of pizza do you like?  Or chips——?”

“Oh, I’ll eat whatever.  Don’t worry about me,” Nia said, shaking her hands.  She pushed opened the kitchen door and watched as Kenzie hopped down the steps, her ponytail bouncing lightly between her shoulders.  As Kenzie sank into the seat beside her mother, she waved cheerfully.

Nia waved back, fighting the desperate urge to bite her lip in dismay; she was nervous—more nervous than she had been on her first day of school.

Nia picked up her cell phone as she rounded the corner to the living room.  She dialed the number that had been conveniently pinned to the brand new corkboard that Sam had brought home the night before.  Nia waited, listening to the ringtone.  She dialed the extension and waited for a few more seconds.  “Dad?” she asked quickly, clutching the phone with her hands.  “Dad—it’s Nia.  Yeah—everything is alright—but I was just wondering.... Do you know where Yvonne Street is?” 

* * *

“This seems like a nice neighborhood,” Sam observed, looking at the white birch trees that had been planted just so alongside the various picket fences.  Even the houses were comforting.  The truck pulled up next to a light blue Cape house with a bronze number sixteen mounted by the front door.

“This it?” Sam asked, giving Nia a sideways look. 

“I’m not sure of the number,” Nia admitted, indecisively glancing around the street.  “I’m not even sure of where we are...”

Sam laughed.  “I know where we are—not to worry.”

“Well, she did say a light blue two story Cape...and I believe that’s her mother’s car in the driveway.”  Nia looked at her father with a carefree shrug.  “I guess this must be it.”

“Alright then,” Sam nodded, putting the truck into park.  He watched as Nia gathered her sleeping bag and pillow, helping her as she struggled to pull her knapsack up over her shoulder.  “Have fun, kiddo.  I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.”

“’Kay.”  Nia practically rolled out of the car, arms full.  She nudged the door shut with her foot and nodded to her father in parting.  She heard the shift of the engine as he removed the truck from park, but he ceased to drive away.

Nia wobbled to the door and awkwardly reached up to give three sharp raps.  She uneasily bit her lip, turning around just once to give her father a quirky grin.  Sam waved from where he sat.

“I’ll be right there!” a voice called from inside.  Nia could hear shuffling from inside as the speaker made their way closer to the door.  Adjusting her grip on the sleeping bag, Nia looked up just as the door swung open.

A tired looking woman stood in the entryway, eyeing Nia curiously with wide brown eyes.  Her brown hair was streaked with gray and she had twisted it into a messy knot on the back of her head.  She smiled a wide smile, and in that moment, she looked just like Kenzie did—sunny and bright.

“You must be Kendra’s friend Nia,” the woman said, moving aside to allow Nia entry.  She waved to Nia’s father just as he pulled away from the curb.  “Please, come on in.”

Nia stepped up into the house and peered around.  It was a quaint home with little knickknacks strewn throughout.  The refrigerator was covered in tiny magnets from all over the world—each one holding up a picture of a little Kenzie and a small boy Nia did not know.  Inside the living room was even more pictures—pictures of Kenzie with a toothless grin, riding on a carousel, Kenzie and that little boy from the fridge looking positively delighted at a birthday party.... There was a china cabinet next to a forest green divan in the corner that was filled with porcelain dolls and china tea sets.  And over by the television were rows upon rows of movies waiting to be watched.

“You have a very lovely home, Mrs. Battistelli,” Nia complemented politely.

“Thank you Nia—and please,” she patted Nia’s arm lightly, “call me Helen.”

Helen poked her head up the stairs.  “Kendra!” she called, tapping the banister with the tips of her thin fingers.  “Nia’s here!”