The Missing Spirit Read online

  The captain jammed the cold diamond blade deep in an artery in her neck. Milfort looked into her terrified eyes and recognized the clearest imprint of horror found in nature: the moment where death is certain, yet still a few breaths away. The captain held a firm hand around the doe’s chest, taming the last of her struggle, as her skinny paws pranced, trying to hurt him and get away. Her neck was severed and her lungs were clenched in panic. He could feel the little bit of air making its way through urged her to courage and survival. He could feel his own strength waning. With a soft rub over the female’s warm furry chest, he willed to stop the flow of air with an alchemist’s precision. Upon his command, the animal could breathe no more, and death soon caught it.

  The captain dragged the doe’s bloody carcass by her two back paws along the edge of the stream, so her blood flowed down the water and no red patch in the whiteness could alert others of his presence. By the time the pine forest started to fade into the distance, he knew he’d nearly made it to the cave. Just a few more hours, he thought, and the doe would be roasted under his heatstones. The baby would be swaddled to sleep, and he’d leave the stones out in the moonlight. They would then leave on the refueled gravitair in the morning. They would speak about this ordeal with glee one day, when she was all grown up and reunited with her parents.

  Milfort sighed, approaching the cave. Dusk hinted at another full moon night when the captain last looked out into the sky before reentering his evening lair. A soft hint of pale blue emanated from the shallow ditch; a sign that the first rays of moonlight were already at work.

  He was cold. Frost had settled around his beard and inside his nostrils. His wet boots, soggy from the stream walk, had frozen solid on his way back. His gut screamed for food while his head clamored for sleep. He approached the high wall inside the cave where the baby girl had been placed with a heavy heart.

  A heavy heart that now skipped a beat.

  The white cotton rags that he’d bundled her in had been unwrapped. There was nothing there. No indication of another presence. No noise from another creature. No vestige of any cruelty. No sign of the little girl. Still clinging onto the back paws of the lifeless fallow deer, the captain broke down in tears. He’d failed her.

  Milfort ran through the freezing night, searching for footprints. Too weak to put up a real fight, the captain dragged himself back inside the cave. With no way to make a fire, he looked back at the carcass. He would not dare sink his teeth through its tainted flesh. Not after the baby’s disappearance. The deer he’d taken for sustenance would now serve him as nothing but a cold pillow; a place where he would rest his trembling head until he prayed himself to sleep.

  Bless this child, Mother Deva. Protect her. Protect your daughter. Help her find her way back to her family. Please . . . Show her your mercy, Deva. Take me, for I have killed one of your creatures. Take me, for I have left my family behind to put my fate in danger. I chose this. Don’t punish an innocent for a mad man’s mistake. Please . . . Have mercy on her. I beg of you . . . Please . . .

  His heartbeat fell lower and lower. The night would soon silence him.

  When

  Friday, Virgo 22, 1999 A.D., 6:14 a.m.

  Where

  Uncharted Territories.

  32º 40′ N, 34º 57′ E

  ke’a’na . . . echoes of a woman’s voice sounded in the darkness. He registered a putrid smell.

  The putrid smell grew closer, invading his frozen nostrils.

  He could feel a movement, somewhere around his eyes, perhaps. The smell. The awful smell.

  Captain Edmar Milfort opened his swollen eyes from what seemed like endless slumber and met the gnarly vision of a rotting carcass, less than an inch away. Why did it smell so bad, so fast? The fallow doe’s insides seemed to have been scooped out in lazy strokes. A handful of flies feasted on the frozen banquet, as the tracks of spilt blood had now been hardened into icicles of dark crimson. The mossy walls of the cave seemed to be lit by a bright light. The dead animal lay exactly where he remembered it. He tried to look away but his body wouldn’t budge. How long has that carcass been sitting there? What is restricting my movements? His scattered thoughts circled about.

  He heard the gurgling sound of the girl, somewhere behind him, deep in the gelid rock tunnels. She sounded joyful. And he found the strength to try and break free. A rough yank of his torso pulled a nerve in his shoulder and sent his right brow ridge into the hard ground. He could not scream. His eyes hurt. A glimmer of blue light reflected his surroundings on the frozen trail of deer blood: he’d been half-buried by heavy boulders. Where had they come from? How could he have slept for so long under this crushing weight?

  A woman screamed in fear. His arms tingled. She could not be much farther than the stream outside. If only I can free my hands . . . His arms felt weightless under the heavy pressure. The baby cried, much louder than the woman. This was his last chance, they’d be dead soon. Milfort was able to make a fist. He ignored the throbbing over his right eye.

  The angry rumbles grew closer still, sloppy wet steps approaching as if a savage were walking inside the cold stream of fresh water. The captain clenched his teeth so hard he could break them, letting out his rage and strength in a feral scream that expelled the energy trapped inside him. The boulders broke into pieces, smashing at full force against the cave walls. I’m coming home . . .

  Captain Voyager Edmar Milfort jumped to his feet with vengeance refueling his aching body. Raising his wobbly hands, he took another deep breath. Enough! He exhaled, guiding the air with his hands, and used it to hurl the heavy boulders in an aggressive wind spiral towards the exit of the cave. A series of dry thuds and loud groans of pain showed there were four, maybe five men outside.

  Milfort stumbled towards the high wall where he’d placed the baby before going out to hunt. He couldn’t remember finding her, but there she was again: still alive, on the same spot, tied tight with the same clove hitch knot he learned in his military days, right down to his signature gentle finish. It can’t be . . . he thought, scratching the back of his head. Right beside her, the gauntlet he had left under the moonlight. The rock sewn inside it lit the entire cave blue. He slid it onto his left hand then picked the baby up in one swoop with the right; she felt heavier, perhaps, he couldn’t be sure.

  With his empty hand raised, the captain ran, determined to roar his captors away with the sheer power of his lungs. His gauntlet doubled the power of the wind, blasting as if the cavern itself could scream in anger. Without looking back, Milfort hurried outside. The moon was waning now. He could hear shrieks from men whose faces he did not stop to see. A second turn of his left hand and the remaining pebbles he had left outside circled up in their own whirlwind of bright blue, following his path in the air, causing random spurts of fire as they hit the strangers. Racing across the snow banks, he searched for the spot where he had buried his vehicle.

  The grunting, savage men followed him.

  He raised up a curtain of snow with one jerk of his left arm. The captain kicked the bottom of his gravitair open, then motioned for the glowing pebbles in the air to fill their spot once again. Turning around for a brief second, he could see five men approaching, covered in raw pelts with spears in their hands. There was no sign of the screaming woman.

  “This is Captain Voyager Edmar Milfort, resuming flight path!” He commanded out loud, watching as the vehicle lifted itself up, ready to go, popping open the top box on its own. The gauge read one-hundred percent, at last.

  Milfort set the baby girl inside, when he noticed a black polished rock slide from under her rags. It hadn’t been there before they found the cave.

  Mother Deva! A spear flew right past him. The men were close. Without looking back, Captain Milfort let the gravitair hurl them forward into the distance. He looked at the baby girl with a smile from ear to ear, laughing with such force he almost lost his balance. The little g
irl followed, giggling. Milfort was in love. He understood now he’d been sent to watch over her. Nothing else made sense at that moment. His mouth was dry, his back half-broken in so many spots he could not count, his throat hurt, his right eye still throbbed. She looked healthy.

  About three hours into their night flight, Captain Milfort heard the signal he’d been hoping for all along: a short electronic blip announcing they had made it into communication range, at last. He took his gauntlet hand to his ear to attempt contact.

  This is Captain Milfort on a Code 908. Captain Milfort telecalling Qosm. Officer Zephyr, do you hear me? He tried to contact the closest nation to the border.

  This is Captain Milfort on a Code 908. Captain Milfort telecalling Petropol. Officer Goliath, do you hear me? He sent a second attempt to a different post. This is Captain Milfort on a Code 908. Captain Milfort telecalling Paradis. Officer Moriarty, do you hear me? This was a call to his home country, where his wife and daughters waited for him.

  He’d had his share of equipment failure, but this was a first. It felt as if civilization had ended.

  Endless minutes went by. He was grateful at least that the little one had fallen asleep. “You sleep now, baby girl. You’ll never be in danger again,” he promised her softly with tears running down his face. “When you grow up, I promise . . . One day, when you’re old enough I’ll tell you all about your very first adventure . . . All about how brave you are . . .” His heart broke for this child who would soon die of hunger unless someone answered his call. The stones were charged, he was well within range, there’s no reason he shouldn’t have been found already . . . unless no one was looking for him. In the sky, the long sheets of white gave way to the first signs of green patches as the sun rose on the horizon.

  When

  Virgo 22, 1999 A.D. 9:51 a.m.

  Where

  4 miles outside of Qosm, Devagar.

  43º 86′ N, 15º 97′ E

  this is captain milfort on a Code 908. Captain Milfort telecalling Qosm. Do you hear me? His mind rode ahead of him, placing the telecall instinctively. He could only think of the girl. She needed to feed at once. Had Stella managed to make it back with the rest of the emissaries?

  Yet another bout of deafening silence. Until an answer:

  Captain Milfort, this is Qosm! Deva! Where have you been?

  His body sagged in relief. “I need help. My emissaries and I were ambushed. We lost contact! Please, send reinforcements. We’re being followed!” he replied, both in thought and out loud simultaneously.

  Captain Milfort, this is Qosm. Your emissaries have all returned. Ten days ago. A familiar, croaked voice echoed back. Milfort took a look around. The early-morning sun now blessed his sore eyes with the familiar sights of calcareous boulders and crystal clear waterfalls that marked the insidious entrance to their secluded realm.

  Ten days? How was I out for ten days? How did she survive for ten days? He held the baby tight in his arms, while his worn-out gravitair landed itself on the edge of a mild cascade of crystalline water that ran downhill into splashing rapids.

  Slightly ahead, the rapids extended into an underwater grotto, one he didn’t remember seeing when his expedition of forty-five men and women had crossed that very entrance to venture south into the unknown. “I’m on the edge of the cascades. Flare the glimmer!” he requested out loud.

  Then, above the grotto, a peculiar refraction of light could be seen through the leaves of a single palm tree. Nothing remarkable for the untrained eye, but he knew what it was. I see the glimmer. You can lift the trick now, he requested, calm, until the telecall was cut short. The refraction of light subsided, as did the extension of the rapids and the single palm tree.

  The vanished illusion gave way to a narrow wooden bridge that hung above the cascade, measuring not more than a couple of dozen steps in length. At the other end, officially inside the realm of Devagar, he saw Apollo Zephyr, the junior officer who had been deployed there just days before the expedition set out. He looked calm, well-fed, well-rested.

  “Captain Milfort.” The young man spoke with equal parts respect and hubris. “You look terrible.” He dusted off Captain Milfort’s grey fur jacket, beckoning for the captain to follow him inside before the bridge vanished into thin air once again.

  “Something’s wrong. Somebody must have done something to me. I’ve lost all track of time, I . . . where is Vellaskey? You’re far too young to be guarding the entrance on your own.” He took a cautious step, hushing the bundled-up baby.

  The confident young man turned around, noticing the captain hadn’t returned alone.

  “Is this Stella’s child? She’s been desperate,” he asked abruptly.

  “I don’t understand. Was the extraction successful? I lost contact with everyone, I . . .” Captain Milfort was sick of this young man’s insubordination.

  A screeching alarm blared from under the monumental cedar trees. Pylons made of solid granite, as tall as an average person, were hidden behind the branches. Their thin, crystal antennas directed towards Captain Milfort’s head. A second high-pitched hiss followed a sharp blue glow over the crystal antennas. The realm’s defense sonars had been breached.

  “The pylons, Zephyr! They were supposed to be off!” Captain Milfort shouted, trying to compete with the ear-splitting volume of the alarms. His overwhelming strength, capable of hurling heavy boulders across a great distance, was gone. It was all he could do to hold the baby.

  The young man lifted a dark granite helmet with a diamond-studded visor that arched over his forehead and temples, smiling through the deafening noise. He also carried a second granite and diamond helmet around his waist. Milfort reached out for it with a trembling arm. The junior officer unclipped it with ease before taking a step back and tossing it on the ground, away from the captain. The blaring quickly subsided, and Captain Milfort felt a loud screeching clank vibrating with the force of a thousand earthquakes directly against his naked head.

  The hazardous psionic trap designed to madden savage invaders for life had been deployed, without mercy.

  The baby fussed for a brief moment, seeming more confused than in distress. As Milfort’s ears popped and an unbearable pressure filled his skull, the captain fell to his knees, barely able to place the infant safely on the ground.

  “Protect her . . .” he pleaded, feeling every last thought inside his head melt into a scalding pulp. Before the captain’s ravaged mind shut down, he saw the polished black rock that had slipped from the baby girl’s rags. Something was written on the rock. This was his handwriting, as much as that was his clove hitch knot, only he had no recollection of performing either. Before his eyes shut, Milfort read the name he had carved into the black rock: KEANA.

  “Don’t worry, Milfort. This one’s got a remarkable future ahead,” said the man as he waved his right hand to put the illusion back in place. Seen from the distance, a single palm tree and shallow rapids replaced the bridge where they stood, sealing their realm off once again from the outside world.

  Chapter one

  A Taste of Winter

  When

  Sunday, Leo 1st,

  2015 After Deva, 7:15 a.m.

  Where

  The North Ice Bridge, 3 miles

  outside Mount Lazulai.

  53º 01′ N, 11º 07′ W

  “are you awake, friends? Feel the snow coming down on us. We’re not in Paradis anymore.” Old Chronus chuckled, softly petting the soft, warm mane on the mammoth’s head, his skinny legs dangling around its enormous neck. Born and raised in the first nation of Paradis, Chronus Gregorian was the kindest of the woolly mammoth riders who transported passengers across the ancient path of solid ice that connected Paradis to holy ground, and even the furry, violent giants obeyed his solid touch. Right behind him, perched on top of the animal’s shoulder hump down to its sloped back, was a snoozing Paradisian quartet: the
Milfort family.

  Bundled in furry white capes, Cerina Milfort—mother of three—peeked her snow-covered head from under the handy parasol that kept the bright winter sun off throughout the tiresome journey from the northernmost Paradisian city of Burrowscar. “Edmar, Marla, Elia . . . Wake up, we’re here,” she told her snoring husband and two eldest daughters; both girls had never been to Mount Lazulai before.

  As the Milfort family slowly opened their frosty eyes, their rough leather gloves sweeping off wet, freezing icicles from their cheeks and foreheads, an astounding glacial landscape with vivid blood-red rose petals covering the entire surface made them gasp. “This is the most beautiful place on Earth!” said Cerina Milfort, covering up her hair with the furry hood that hung behind her neck. To her the random swirls of crimson and snow-blinding whiteness were a sign of Mother Deva’s presence. Cerina then gently proceeded to cover her husband’s head for him; passing by a long barrier of sonar pylons would make the fallen captain’s skin crawl in silent panic.

  Up from behind the stratospheric heights of the sacred peak, two fresh water geysers spurted, splashing down with force to each side of the bridge, as if to greet the incoming visitors.

  “Mother Deva! We need to get out more often.” said middle sister Elia, mesmerized at the dancing spurts of shining water.

  “I still can’t get over how cold winter really is.” Marla smiled at the sight. The eldest Milfort girl squinted her eyelids, tiny specks of frost over the lashes.

  To the east of the mountain was a valley where visitors would step off their giant woolly beasts and cover their heads in respect. It was there, at the entrance of their realm’s energetic center, that Paradisians came to wish their final farewells to friends and family, and it would be the Milforts’ next stop on this bone-freezing morning.