Chapter 57
The soft voice came once more. "Open your eyes, Precept.... It is time.... Have faith.... Have courage.... Show us the strength of your ancient bloodline and your fabled obstinance."
With reluctance, Derek met the piercing, yellow eyes... round, bright, predatory... set in a face... almost human... but not.... It was blank... smooth and expressionless, framed by a beard of dark, curling feathers.... Frothy down cloaked the creature's neck, covered its chest and legs. It possessed both wings and arms.
"Yes... I know who and what you are... son of Merlin... son of Adawehi.... You see, as I told you, we are birds of a feather.... Raptors, like the eagles of your new world."
The precept was held in a scythe-like claw. Twisting frantically from side to side, he fought to escape. At last, his strength spent, he lay still, exhausted, breathing heavily, awaiting whatever torture the monster's whim might bring. "Jesus... help me...," he whimpered.
"Lie still," the creature hissed. "You'll harm yourself!"
"And that's your job," Derek spat, trying to summon bravado from the depths of his long vanished reserve. "Do your worst.... I won't
surrender.""Bravo!" the creature exclaimed.
The precept heard a sigh roll from the feathered breast. He felt a soft, warm touch upon his chest.
"Do you believe... deep down... that Winston surrendered?" it asked. "Believing yourself to be the product of bad seed, do you not fear the same?... What you fear... about that seed... may not even be the truth.... You hold the memories of a child.... You saw through the eyes of a child."
Derek's terror blocked the words as the huge head moved nearer. "Gott... help me," he whispered, waiting for his flesh to be torn apart. The thin, straight mouth drew close, and the precept flinched, waited... and felt a tender kiss upon his brow.
"Peace... human...," came the gentle voice. "Why do you fear me?... The nightmare is over.... Your fever has broken."
"Nightmare! No...." Derek struggled again, then realised the futility of it, and lay still.
"What do you remember, Precept?... Come.... Think.... What do you think I am?"
"You're a trick of the Darkside," Derek murmured, "a demon in another guise. You were West.... Now you're... this...." His mind failed to find a suitable name for the creature.
"'This'?... Better that than demon, I suppose.... Have I caused you pain?... Have my talons so much as left a scratch in your flesh... or drawn a drop of your blood?... Or have I helped you escape from pain?"
"Then what are you?" the precept demanded, wondering if his mind had snapped once more and had conjured up this nightmarish chimera.
"Search your memory," the soft, sibilant voice hissed. "Are you not a Doctor of Theology... of Anthropology?... To paraphrase that human, Shakespeare... 'There are more things in heaven and earth'... or hell... perhaps...." The creature's face twisted in what Derek assumed was a smile. "Precept... you have God's gifts... use them.... See me for what I am."
Derek closed his eyes, tried to sense the creature, tried to use his "Sight". "I see flame... fire... a fountain of fire... a ring of fire." In panic, he opened his eyes again. "You control the fire.... You used it on me."
"Not I, Precept.... I guard the sacred fire... the Light.... For the moment, you have been given the gift of controlling flame... to use for good or ill."
"Gift," Derek choked on the word. "I don't want this 'gift'.... I can't control it.... It uses me.... It manipulates my weakness... to hurt... to terrify.... It comes from the evil within me."
"Has it not done your bidding... when you could not communicate what you had 'seen' in vision?... Did you not try to show others in the flame?... The boy saw.... Others would have too, had they looked.... Concentrate, Precept.... Did you 'see' anything else?... Did you feel evil in me?"
Derek closed his eyes and fought to quell his mind... the frantic thoughts... memories of pain... burning... then.... "No," he quietly admitted, "not evil.... Why have you saved me from that hell?... What do you want from me?"
"You saved yourself, Precept.... If you trust yourself... search within yourself.... You will know that to be true.... And I want what you want.... How can it be otherwise, when I am part of you?"
"I did search within myself... and... and I went mad," Derek whispered. "'Part of me'?... I don't understand."
"You went mad because you became entrapped in your own nightmare.... Understandable, considering the circumstances.... Your obstinance clung to your fears," the creature explained. "The dreams are gone now, Precept.... What horrors you hold in your mind... leave them where they belong.... Pay them no heed."
"Like you... you mean?" Derek bluntly asked.
"Unkind man.... Am I a horror?... I had always thought myself a handsome beast."
Derek studied the creature. He withheld a smile as it preened its breast and wing feathers under his close scrutiny. It reminded him of the eagle that had watched from the rocks above the kiva.... He remembered!... Kwahu Canyon!... His friend, Luke Grayfox... and Maria... and the children... the dogs... and the potbellied pig... and he smiled.
"There.... You see... not all your memories are bad ones.... There is so much that it is good and happy in that mind.... Bring it to the fore more often, Precept.... You will fight the better for it... and live a better life."
"Now I'm being lectured by a bird!" Derek snorted.
"So it would seem.... Think back... Dr. Rayne. You know me.... You lectured about me, once upon a time. You did a paper on me in your youth. My way is the foundation of your personal creed."
"No," said Derek. "My mind hasn't worked right for a long time. Other things have been confused... forgotten... things remembered that didn't happen in this world."
"Very well... my poor, stubbornly confused mortal," the creature said with an exaggerated tone of patience. "We shall begin at the beginning.... Lesson One. Do exactly as I say... and you will find the key to that particular memory."
Derek nodded. How could this creature be evil, when it treated him like a lazy schoolboy?
"Find your center.... Feel it there... in your chest, below your heart."
Derek closed his eyes and felt the slightest touch upon his skin.
"Do you feel the warmth?"
The precept nodded. "Umm... umm.... 's goot."
"Let the warmth flow... to the nexus... behind your eyes... in your throat... your heart... at your navel.... Feel it twist and spiral. Feel the colors." The creature touched each and waited in silence, then asked, "Are you there yet?... Do you feel?"
Again, Derek nodded. The warmth was wonderful... not burning... but healing.
"Now," the voice whispered. "Let the heat grow... the colors will become brighter.... It won't hurt you... nor me."
Derek felt the pressure on his chest become wider, longer, firmer.
"Now... release the power through my touch and look... and remember."
The precept opened his eyes. The creature had gone. Tendrils of flame burst forth... tracing a delicate latticework... first a golden circle... round and round... then swaths of color burst forth... into rainbow wings that stretched out horizontally... then more colors fanned downwards into a tail. Still the flame continued to swirl and sweep its threads. A torso and bearded head of a man rose from the orb... then the right arm stretched outward to show the way to the Light. In the left hand, lay a whirling ring... so bright... and spinning... spinning... no beginning... no ending... like the Catherine's Wheel on the Millenium.
Derek watched the ring, mesmerized. "Infinite.... It's infinite.... As knowledge is infinite," he stated from rote. Without fear, his eyes, his mind absorbed the colors, the playfulness of the delicate flames. "A Fravashi... Zarathustra's angels... mythical beings of Zoroastrianism... beings of light, of wisdom, of the divine essence of life... a... a...," he breathed, "...a concept akin to the Catholic conscience... the Holy Spirit."
Suddenly, the flames spun and coalesced into the bird-like creature that once more touched his chest. "Very good, Precept.... See... you can remember.... You know that we believe that at death each man faces an individual judgement... each thought, each word and deed in life is weighed in the scales of justice.... It's the same as your Judeo-Christian thought... Islam and others. If the good thoughts, words and deeds outweigh the evil, then his soul will be taken to Heaven. Do you not remember your own philosophy of life?... There is no more superior statement of Ahura Mazda's enlightened gift to his prophet, Zarathustra."
Derek nodded, he remembered standing in the Japanese pavilion on Angel Island, staring at the dark water below... at Julia's service.... He repeated his own simple statement, "'For every darkness in life there is light.... For every evil, there is good.... There is a God in heaven, and that our dear friend, Julia Walker, has earned a place by His side. These are the only things in this universe that I know with absolute certainty.'" He sighed... in a sound that neared a sob. "I wonder which way my balance will fall," he whispered, then chuckled, "I'm dreaming about you because of that note on our map... that mention of Ahura Mazda."
"Me?... A dream?" The being shook its huge head. "How can you doubt your destiny... Precept?... Do you think God chooses you as his warrior because you are tainted?... No.... He chooses you for your courage... your determination... your righteous anger... your willingness to battle evil where it lives... for your love... your protectiveness... of those dear to you... and of Innocents, whom you may never know." Again the creature managed something akin to a smile. "...and... perhaps... for your stubbornness, too."
Derek shook his head. "I see only my own weakness... the evil that lurks within." He choked back the anguish. "I would've betrayed Alex to save myself."
"Tut!... Fool of a man," the Fravashi lectured. "Who else could have endured that monster's caresses and still have been seeking a way to destroy the evil unto the very end?... and who dared look within?... Who else but you has tried to save your friend... more than friend... your son in all but blood?... Who else braved this journey?... Open your eyes.... You've succeeded.... You've survived... and you are whole.
"Precept... have you never really understood that to be human means to be caught between Light and Dark... just as the charter of your Legacy says?... It is up to man to recognize the darkness within himself and around him, but then to embrace the light. That is the divine choice.... Have you not done this all your life? Another battle awaits... and who has God chosen?... Who will be his champion?... Who will fight for the Light?... Go now, Precept.... Soon we shall meet again."
< < + > >
Derek's Room...
Nick lay on his bed, his boots off, but otherwise dressed. He had tried to doze, but even his catnaps had been shredded by nightmares... of "Nelson's" torments, of Derek, even of West. In Nick's dreams "Nelson" and West had merged. Though neither had said anything, he knew that Ginge and Yusuf were haunted as well. It was part of being a soldier. Long after peace returns to life, war remains in the dark recesses of the mind.
The SEAL glanced over at Derek. The precept's fever had broken a few hours before and now he was sleeping peacefully. "Jesus...," he muttered. "You can never tell the time of day in this damned place." He raised his wrist to glance at Derek's watch. His stomach grumbled. "Must be time to eat." He wondered whether Yusuf would make something. Last night the young man had forcefully reminded him and Ginge that he was here to look after Derek, not be their "cook and bottle washer." He had then stalked off to see to the horses, which was apparently an honorable task, equal to watching over his charge.
"Nick?..."
The SEAL was instantly on his feet and across the room. "Hey... Boss...." He smiled down at the weary face. "How d'ya feel?"
Derek ran his tongue over dry, chapped lips. "Thirsty... very thirsty," he hoarsely replied, "...and tired.... What happened?... Can't remember.... Shoulder hurts." The barest hint of a smile flickered across his face. "Everything hurts."
The younger man poured a glass of water, helped Derek sit up, and held the glass while he gulped down the liquid. "Better?... Your shoulder got infected.... You had a really high fever.... What was left of our antibiotics didn't work, but we found some the Russians had left behind. Looks like they've done the trick.... Poor Yusuf's been worried sick."
Derek read the SEAL's tired expression, the anxious tone, and realised Yusuf hadn't been the only person who had been worried. He nodded. Vague memories flitted through his brain.... What had been real?... What had been his "Sight"... and what had been caused by the infection his body had been fighting? "I didn't do anything, did I?" he hesitantly asked. "You know... during the fever?"
"Sort of...," Nick was forced to admit with a lop-sided smile, "like Ginge said... 'flamin' 'ell!'"
"No one was hurt?" Derek asked, suppressing a groan as his friend eased him back down.
"Only a few singed eyebrows," Nick reassured him as he arranged the covers. "I'm gonna tell the others you're awake.... Can you eat something?"
The precept realised how hungry he was. "A horse... but don't tell Yusuf."
< < + > >
the Kitchen... later...
Ginge pulled a chair over to sit beside Nick. "How's he doin'?"
"Good," the SEAL replied, taking a bite of stew. It was the first time in days that he'd been able to eat a meal with a calm stomach. "No more fever.... He ate all his soup and kept it down... and he's sleeping... really sleeping.... Thank God, no nightmares," he sighed, then the corner of his mouth tweaked up in a half-grin. "Yusuf seems bent on drowning him in tea, but I suspect what he'd really like is a little vodka."
"Indy...," Ginge said seriously. "We gotta figure out our next move.... Our mission still exists.... All this germ and gas shit... it's massive. There could even be nukes here... somewhere." The redhead's tone had lost any hint of the bravado or humor that was so characteristic of him. "I had a bad feeling 'bout this mission from the start.... We were sent in for a missing convoy... a few bloody trucks.... This is way beyond us.... We gotta call in the cavalry... bring the 'boffins' in.... They can figure out what to do with all this stuff."
"'Boffins'?" Nick asked. "Anything like 'puffins'?"
"Sorry," the Brit apologized. "Nerds?... Does that translate?"
Nick smiled again, scratched his whiskered jaw, and shook his head. "Ginge... we can't risk this stuff falling into the wrong hands."
"Right... but the rag heads don't know we're here," Ginge reasoned. "We stay outta sight.... Surely we got enough brains and know-how between us to rig some sort of radio outta all this equipment.... We send up an electronic flare.... Call in reinforcements.... Once the top brass knows what we got, they'll send a whole fuckin' battalion in."
Nick exhaled loudly and shoved his plate aside. "Let's wait for Derek to wake up.... Then we can talk about it.... Maybe get a plan going.... If he came in here to get us out... then he's damned sure already got a way to do it."
"Come on, SEAL.... Reason it out," Ginge said in frustration. "One... I got real respect for Dutch here... but even if he was CIA... or whatever... he's still a civie.... This was a military mission... our mission.... We're the authority here.... Two... we can't risk an air strike.... These fuckin' caves go on forever... and with that storage place I found... canisters... warheads. We might end up releasing it all.... Three... this stuff needs to be handled by experts.... They can check out what we've got and maybe learn something for our side. Four...."
"I know how to count," Nick responded quietly as he pushed himself up from the table. There was more here than he could tell the soldier... that Legacy symbol on the map... the Moscow precept had been involved... Derek's AI-86.... Shit!... Derek knew more than he was letting on.... The SEAL smiled at this, then frowned, for it always cut both ways.... When did Derek ever let on? "We wait.... OK?... He'll wake up soon.... His head's getting clearer.... He's getting stronger.... Considering that phone number... and Kincaid... he must have arrangements already made."
"Fuck it!" The Brit stood and angrily squared up to Nick. "Are you a SEAL or a frickin' fairy?... Can't you think for yourself?... Does Dutch tell you when to wipe your arse!"
"Stow it!" Nick replied quietly... coldly. "We're in no hurry.... What difference will a couple of days make? The weather hasn't broken, so nobody could get in here anyway." The SEAL looked up, met the bright, blue eyes, and read the rebellion there. "'sides... like you said.... 'It's military.... We're the authority... and last I heard a petty officer outranks a corporal, Corporal Jones."
Ginge came to attention and stiffly saluted, palm outward in best British fashion. "Aye, aye, Petty Officer Yank... Sir!" he snarled, then stalked from the room.
"Dammit!" Nick muttered.
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