The Missing Spirit Read online

  This book is for all those who never stop dreaming about seeing it all.

  For my wonderful parents, who always nudged their sons out into the open world, and for each and every warm welcome home.

  Three Wise men witnessed the birth of a human god.

  Countless nations were murdered in his name; his followers triumphed over people and trade. The flag they planted on the surface of the moon has since waved over those below it.

  The aforementioned events took place over the course of two thousand years, for some, or simply one long night, for others. What you are about to read, however, happened about one hundred long nights ago.

  The names, languages and descriptions contained henceforth have been adapted for better comprehension in the present day.

  May Deva be with you.

  “Before the blue, there was only darkness.

  Life sprawled from the timeless seeds of chaos.

  Instinct alone drove those who roamed the Earth

  as hollow shells, covered in nothing but hair

  and filled with nothing but hunger.

  They shouted to the skies,

  begging for guidance.

  So Mother Deva gave them the Spirit.”

  The Devotion – Genesis 1:3

  Contents

  Chapter Zero

  A City of Two Tales

  Chapter one

  A Taste of Winter

  Chapter Two

  Dame Anna’s Vow

  Chapter Three

  News from Lumen

  Chapter Four

  Power Outage

  Chapter Five

  Confidence Men

  Chapter six

  Smooth Criminals

  Chapter seven

  The Welcoming Ceremony

  Chapter eight

  Some People Have Royal Problems

  Chapter nine

  The Abandoned Armory

  Chapter ten

  Paradis’ Most Wanted

  Chapter eleven

  Just a Regular Girl

  Chapter twelve

  Family Heirlooms

  Chapter Thirteen

  Search Party

  Chapter fourteen

  A Father’s Memories

  Chapter fifteen

  The Cost of Overliving

  Chapter sixteen

  A Friend’s Request

  Chapter seventeen

  Dead on Arrival

  Chapter eighteen

  Exit Strategies

  Chapter nineteen

  Attack on Zulaika Park

  Chapter twenty

  Primal Screams

  Chapter twenty-one

  A Test of Mental Fitness

  Chapter twenty-two

  The Petropolitan Army

  Chapter twenty-three

  The Visions of Flora Vellaskey

  Chapter twenty-four

  Grey Sunday

  Chapter twenty-five

  The Gates of Paradis

  Wisepedia

  A BrIef HIStORY OF DeVAGAR

  A GLossaRy of DevagaRian teRms

  CLARENCE BANTER’S MAP OF DEVAGAR

  Underlined terms are further defined in the Wisepedia.

  Chapter Zero

  A City of Two Tales

  When

  Tuesday, Virgo 11th,

  Year 1999 After Deva, 9:26 p.m.

  (Year 199,967 Before Christ).

  Where

  Uncharted Territories.

  25º 97′ S, 31º 05′ E

  “wake up . . .” said a hushed female voice. He felt frantic soft tapping on his back and shoulders. The high-pitched whine of a mosquito near his ear served as an instant reminder: they were all still hiding out in the uncharted savannah. For twenty-five weeks, Captain Milfort’s expedition had been trying to locate the legendary citadel of their most elusive enemy.

  “Stella . . . ?” he mumbled as the back of his head grazed against the patchy grass. He’d been dreaming about his children, he thought, but now he was sprung into alertness.

  “Don’t make any noise, Captain. My cover’s blown! They’re here! They’ve found us!” she whispered.

  He almost didn’t recognize Stella, her large, deep green eyes framed by matted locks of auburn hair. She’d been gone for over a year. Small rips and fresh blood stains marred the light fabric hung loose over her malnourished frame, woven in a pattern he’d never seen. Could he trust her? They were supposed to find her, not the other way around.

  He managed to nod and Stella moved on to wake the next person up.

  Captain Edmar Milfort sat up in silence, his heart pounding. The camp had been thrown into a quiet panic as Stella woke his men and women.

  “Where’s Yuri?” Edmar asked Stella.

  She turned around with a raised index finger above her lips. “He’s on his way back home. He said Vellaskey’s expecting us.” Stella tied a leather satchel around her waist, shutting tight the hint of a soft blue glow coming from inside.

  The captain heard the soft cooing of a baby and felt despair. A baby? Was this the child Stella had mentioned in her distress message? Nothing seemed to match the Wise forecast reports.

  He felt fully awake now. “You’re bleeding.” He scanned their surroundings and then picked up the baby. “How long until they get here?”

  Stella drank from a strangely ornate flask which resembled an elongated human skull. “Five, ten minutes tops. Give me the child.” The husband she always spoke of, the one nobody ever met, was nowhere to be seen.

  “How did you find us?” He checked the baby for any visible bruises. “Don’t think for a second that you’re in charge here. We’re bringing you home. Vellaskey will squeeze every last drop of information from you until you’re allowed to see the light of day again.”

  “I know exactly who we’re up against here, Captain. Do you?” She licked her dry lips, taking a hand to her ear. There was a fast-moving presence in the distance.

  Captain Milfort handed the child over to Stella, then turned to the signal fires that surrounded the camp. He took a deep breath and blew them all out from where he stood.

  “Donald!” Captain Milfort ordered his third-man-in-command, the next in Yuri’s absence. “Curtain!”

  Emissary Donald Elkhorn lifted both his gauntlet arms and ripped many yards of grass up from the soil. A curtain of dirt, leaves and broken twigs surrounded the group. “Everyone, gather the essentials and let’s head home!” he barked.

  “Captain Milfort! We can’t break protocol when we’ve never gotten this close before!” reasoned Emissary Zara Sphinx.

  “Our only protocol is getting home to our families in one piece, Zara! This is a peaceful expedition, no matter what the Wise say!” he roared, ignoring Stella’s persistent request for silence.

  Distant cries of war came from a mile or more away. Their camp had been located.

  “Mother Deva!” How would he get his team home now?

  “Listen! They trust me! I can persuade them!” Stella turned around and thrust the gurgling baby into his arms. She reached inside the bundle of rags.

  “What are you doing?” Edmar asked as she removed an odd stone necklace from the child and then raced straight toward where the sounds of the approaching enemy rumbled.

  His gut lurched. Stella was never the most disciplined of his emissaries, but a traitor? Captain Edmar Milfort scanned the remaining grass in search of a naked patch of soil where he had laid down a sizeable limestone the pr
evious night. Setting the baby on the ground, he dug up the spot with his bare hands, until his fingers met a rock-hard surface. In one fast swoop, the captain pulled from the ground a polished ivory board, welded to diamond handlebars and a rock-hard. When he shook the dirt off the board, an unexpected stillness startled him: there was supposed to be a rattle of hefty pebbles.

  Then he remembered the blue glow in Stella’s bag. How had she taken them?

  Just a glance inside the transportation device and he knew the whole camp had been ransacked. Stella was gone. “The desert people stole our fuel! Power up your gravitairs anyway you can!” He shouted to his dispersed emissaries. “We don’t stand a chance! Retreat! Now!” He rummaged through his belongings to find any sign of artifacts glowing blue.

  One of his group let out a deafening shout of pain.

  Donald shouted from the distance. “Feet forward! Hands back! They have arrows! Knock them down!”

  “Leave everything behind! We can meet up by the entrance!” Milfort commanded, throwing a few dimly lit blue rocks into the empty fuel compartment. It would have to do. He glanced around and saw the baby on the ground. She’d be stomped by fast galloping beasts unless he took immediate action. “I’m going off the grid! I’m taking the baby to Qosm! We can meet up by the waterfalls. Bind Stella if you have to; do not let her out of your sight!” he bellowed, sliding his communication gauntlet off his right hand, then twisting the fabric sideways, until it also gave off a weak, blue glow. “Do not fight them, Zara! Split up and retreat. They cannot find Devagar!”

  “You’ve got it, Captain!” Emissary Zara Sphinx shouted in the distance, as the remaining members of the expedition threw whatever pieces of blue-lit artifacts they could find into their gravitairs. Thrusting the gauntlet inside the fuel compartment, Captain Edmar Milfort secured the star-shaped lid back on and hurried to pick up the baby. With her weight, the power meter went up to an astounding seventy-eight percent. Something’s not right. But he had to go.

  “This is Captain Voyager Edmar Milfort reprogramming flight path to: forty-three degrees, forty-eight minutes and seven seconds north—fifteen degrees, fifty-eight minutes and twenty-two seconds east. Fastest route possible! ” He placed the child inside the open top box that, after twenty-five weeks out into the wild, only carried humid woolen blankets, mushy pieces of leftover fruit and a half-empty canteen of fresh water. He stood on the ride, and steel guards locked his feet in place. The captain then leaned forward, causing the board to rush ten feet into the air. “Okay now, you be a brave . . .” he stopped and moved the child to a safer position inside the compartment until the movement of the rags she was bundled in filled in the missing detail, “. . . girl. You be a brave girl, now. Mother Deva! ”

  The swooshing sounds of the other gravitairs behind him brought a certain comfort. As his ride bolted forward, Milfort focused on the baby, a perfectly healthy creature who deserved, more than anything, to be anywhere else but with him.

  But what else was he supposed to do when he had a wife and two young daughters waiting for his safe return? The roaring of the unseen enemy grew louder, as did the stampede of their ferocious horses. At that moment, flying fast in the opposite direction of his mission objective, Captain Voyager Edmar Milfort felt confident in his team’s abilities to fend for themselves. They were gone from view now. No one else needed him with more urgency than that precious baby girl.

  The pair glided across the night under a bright full moon; somehow the little girl slept inside the compartment that protected her from the violent headwinds. All he could hear were the rattles of the wind, and all he could see were the cold desert sands further north.

  Safety felt within his reach; with a third of their way behind them, the fuel meters still sparked at a very reasonable fifty-two percent. If the child could handle another nine or ten hours with only water, he knew they might make it home before morning light could turn them into easy targets.

  But what had happened to Stella? The woman he knew would not have abandoned a child like that, not unless they were both in great danger. She had been embedded for over a year, posing as a savage. Perhaps she resented his team for taking so long to rescue her? Or maybe she needed to steal their fuel in order to appease the enemy? Could she be protecting her husband?

  Once the panic response subsided, the captain struggled to remain alert as they ripped through the sky above the freezing desert. Milfort dozed off, his body leaning over the top box. A few more hours of air travel went by, until a violent wobble startled him into a second rush of fear.

  When

  Virgo 12, 1999 A.D., 6:05 a.m.

  Where

  Uncharted Territories.

  32º 40′ N, 34º 57′ E

  the gauge plummeted by the second as the gravitair dove headfirst in an abrupt descent. The baby woke up, blinking fast, displaying for the first time the full force of her minuscule lungs. It took Milfort a few moments to realize the fastest route home had included a prohibited flight over water. He expected an engineering breakdown. The instant his vehicle glided over the sea, the dim blue light trapped inside the fuel compartment had started to flicker. The captain braced himself over the wailing baby girl. Every muscle around his back, neck and shoulders clenched. His eyes shut tight in anticipation of the crash.

  Nothing.

  Captain Voyager Edmar Milfort heard a low hum coming from the gauge before realizing the vehicle had recovered its balance and come to a full stop. They were a handful of yards past the water, hovering weakly above the damp shore.

  A string of dense clouds were woven together across the navy blue sky, the fiery reflection of dawn touching on their darker underside. The air burnt cold and humid inside his nostrils. The gravitair powered off on its own, in a calm descent until it touched down on solid ice. It should have never been able to fly over water: now it had landed on ice, far from where he had programmed it to go. How was he supposed to keep her safe and hurry back home? Surrounded by endless white, he found himself shivering under a strange twilight. He understood them to be in the middle of nowhere and with no means to send a distress signal—not until the full moon, anyway.

  They had landed somewhere high, atop a frozen lake. There seemed to be a pine forest downhill, bordered by a thin stream of fresh water that also led to a handful of caves. Grateful to be alive, he could only attribute their incomprehensible luck to the mysterious ways of Mother Deva.

  Milfort picked the baby up to calm her crying. Rocking her on the silent, frozen lake, he thought back to the quiet nights at home, looking after his two small daughters while his wife got her much deserved rest. He wanted to be a father to them, to be near them, to hug them when they woke up and put them to bed every night. Milfort held her close to warm her and still her desperate crying. “I know what you want . . . My girls used to cry just like this . . . Marla wouldn’t stop until my wife gave her the breast, and Elia would wail again the minute she tucked her breast back under her clothes.” Milfort gave the baby girl his pinky finger to suckle on, then took a cautious look around for any hidden presences nearby. He tapped the side of his right leg down to the knee until he could feel the shaft of his hunting knife, well sheathed. It was still dark enough for the captain to think straight: he needed to find some kind of shelter before the sun branded them the sole warm-blooded prey in the white wilderness.

  Think, stay calm. She needs milk. Or water, at least. We need more fuel. If she feeds, she survives, if we recharge, we fly home. We need moonlight. We need moonlight to recharge. She needs to stop crying, or we’ll be found here by Deva knows what. Shelter! Who can fend off a pack of hungry grey wolves or vicious saber-toothed cats with a baby in their arms? Twelve hours. It will be dark again in twelve hours. Can she make it that long? Can you make it through the day, baby? Shhh . . . We’ll find shelter. That’s what we’ll do.

  With the baby in his arms, the captain set out towards a nearby
slope where rough granite rocks sprung out from under the ice. He left his vehicle buried in a snowbank, taking with him—tied to his waist—the canteen of sugar water, chunks of moldy fruit and the depleted pieces of fuel that by now resembled calcareous pebbles. The captain followed the path of rocks and a stream of fresh water for about half an hour into a small cave that stood alone a couple of miles before a dense pine forest. The sun was already out. Milfort could not understand the absolute absence of animal life around them. With a very faint flame from two heatstones he had brought back from their camp, he was able to scare off a small family of bats from inside the narrow cave’s mossy edges. There seemed to be nothing else living there. His instincts urged him to stay.

  By the time the baby slept again, the captain’s arms were already weak from rocking her. He decided to set her over a high boulder a few feet from the ground, wrapped tight in his fur coat that he would tie with firm knots to the largest of the cave’s rocky edges. A few drowsy steps and he found himself outside the cave, blinded by daylight, a small hunting knife in hand. That narrow stream of fresh water right outside was bound to lure thirsty animals. His heart told him to stay behind and wait until morning. His gut told him to find food in case new complications arose further down the line. At this point, mortality no longer felt to him like a source of weakness. On the contrary.

  Milfort set the grey pebbles inside a shallow ditch at the entrance of the cave; somewhere they would be touched by moonlight yet not in direct sight of any passersby. He counted six pebbles, a bit smaller than his fist—seven if he included the gauntlet he normally used for communication, with a stone of its own inside, powering its reach. The more, the merrier, he concluded, treading light on the snow to follow the stream of fresh water. The captain tried to contain his shivering; all of the warm clothing he owned had been bundled around the baby.

  The sun hung low in the horizon by the time the captain spotted the first sign of animal life. Drinking water alone by a rocky patch along the stream was a doe, with light caramel hair and a smooth head where her mate would certainly bear a ruthless set of antlers. Almost hypnotized by both the sight of company and nourishment, Edmar Milfort found himself about to perform an act sacrilegious to his beliefs. This was the one skill from his military training he was ashamed to use. The doe never saw him coming.