The rode to Khrell where they boarded a train that took them to Eden – the city was faring well given their current situation, their military was armed and ready but no conflict had occurred so far – and from Eden they sailed to the islands to the west, where Christel had his safe house.
On a cool winter morning clouds of fog danced over the chopping waves like wraiths. Christel navigated the small boat as the island came into view, he was constantly fiddling with his watch. Sam – recovered from his wounds – sat on the bow cleaning his gun. Arlandra meditated quietly for most of the trip, he barely spoke and even opened his eyes. Ashley had set up a table for her to work on her weapon; she was relieved that it had weakened Amelia’s powers rather than killing her. To quell the boredom, she and Sam played cards and playfully bet away the remainder of their money. Without looking up she asked Christel, “You want in on this?” She revealed her three kings and Sam threw his single pair away. She persisted. “Come on, you’re fidgeting like a crazy person.” She lifted a half-empty bottle of wine. “Have a drink and play some cards.”
Christel leaned against the boat’s wheel and looked at them. “I don’t like playing cards. Besides, gambling is a waste of money, and doing it while drinking is even worse.”
Sam gestured towards the emerging landmass. “We’re literally sailing towards your secret island that is stashed with gold.”
People acknowledging his secret island always put Christel in a good mood. “Damn right it is,” he murmured under his breath, in his long forgotten fair. He was still flicking his watch open and closed. “Arlandra’s doing nothing, ask him to play.”
“Arlandra hasn’t moved in two hours.” The looked at the assassin sitting like a statue with his eyes closed, oblivious to the rocking of the boat. “Look at him. He’s like a block of granite. I don’t know how he does it.”
Arlandra spoke, without moving. “It’s called meditating and it’s not that hard.”
“Says the man with superpowers.” Christel chuckled.
Sam gathered the playing cards and shuffled the deck. “And how can you hear us? Aren’t you supposed to be on some spiritual journey right now, becoming one with the universe?”
The assassin broke his position and laughed mockingly. “Banter all you like, old friend. I’ve made some interesting discoveries about myself in these last few months. A few more years of this and I bet I’ll be able to read minds.”
“Ooh, scary. You can laugh at people’s jokes before they say them and really confuse the hell out of them.”
“Or,” Ashley quipped, “you’ll finally be able to tell if a girl is into you. Does this mean you can start socialising again?”
Arlandra stepped over and took the cards from Sam. “I never socialised before. I’m a trained killer not a supermodel.”
“So glum…”
“It means,” he went on, “I’m finally getting the hang of my powers. I’m not afraid anymore. I have more control over my body than I ever had before.”
“Tell that to Jules,” Ashley said, and winked.
Suddenly Christel burst out in laughter, a remarkably jovial sound. “Screw it,” he cried. “Give me that wine. Let’s play.” He left his watch by the wheel.
Sam punched him on the shoulder. “There he is!” He dealt the cards. “The winner gets ten percent of Christel’s island.”
Christel steered his boat towards the pier that protruded from the lovely beach. As he tied it up he wondered if the others were serious about the betting – he had lost two games of poker – and he revelled in the stream of emotion that came from seeing this place again. “Feels like home.” His emotions were conflicted, obviously, due to his crippling fear of losing his wife, however he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anything without a level head.
From the pier a forest path ran parallel to a stream and led them to the safe house. Winter moss blanketed most of the trees and rocks that they saw along the way and in some parts the path was heavily grown over with plants. Ashley annoyingly brushed them aside. “Christel, if you’re going to invite people to your secret house you could at least clean up a little.”
“Okay first of all I didn’t invite you this just kind of happened, and secondly, what part of secret did you miss? I can’t just announce it to people. Even Sam didn’t know about it and he chased me for years.”
Sam grimaced. “I didn’t chase you that long, but I never expected you were hiding on an island.”
Christel, Devin and Carley – their old comrade – had meticulously built the safe house in the mouth of a gigantic cave. It was homely and remote, a thief’s retreat of sorts, but for Christel it served mainly as a place to relax and bask in all the money he’d never spend. There were three keys into the building – which was heavily fortified – one belonged to Christel, one belonged to Devin, and the third was melted down after Carley’s death and made into a necklace which Christel eventually gave to Hazel.
Christel opened the door and stepped inside, it was quiet and the lights were out. He looked around. The beach could be seen from the window on the top floor so Devin should have seen them coming. “Devin!” he called. “Dammit, something is wrong.”
“Could Grey Skull have gotten here first?”
“I don’t know, maybe?”
Suddenly Devin stepped out from the living room. His expression was sombre but he seemed calm, though he raised his hands and they noticed the defeat in his eyes. “Christel,” he said, as he stepped forward. “Sorry.” Germaine Underbridge followed holding a gun to Devin’s back.
Josiah followed like an unsmiling statue. “Hello.” His words were followed by silence. He went on. “This skirmishing is beneath all of us. With your permission Christel I’d like to have a discussion like civilised men.”
Arlandra was tense. He failed to hide the fluctuations in his aurora, that Josiah promptly noticed. “Where is Juliet?” he demanded.
“She’s in the living room nervously sipping a cup of tea.” Josiah gestured for them to step past him and into the living room. Through the crack Arlandra had placed in his mask they could see the rough skin beneath shift into a smile. “May we have our discussion now?”
Christel snarled. “You don’t seem to grasp the concept of giving permission but seeing as how you might shoot my friend if I refuse… Yes, we may.” He kept his hands raised as he shuffled with the others into the living room. The room was spacious, wonderfully decorated with artworks and a chandelier, and several couches around a small table topped with sweets and tea. Juliet awaited them with Petra simultaneously holding her and gunpoint and sipping her tea. “Are you okay?” Christel asked her.
She replied, “Oh I’m just great.” Sarcasm rang though her words.
“Right, stupid question.” He turned to Josiah and Germaine before sitting down on his own couch. “If we’re going to do this; no guns. Three of you can kill us with your minds anyway.”
“That’s an interesting way to put it,” Petra murmured as she dropped her revolver on the table. She displayed her ability to create sparks between her thumb and forefinger.
Christel placed his own gun down and urged the others to do the same. When it was done they sat quietly for a moment, like an awkward tea party. Christel found it hard to meet the eyes of his enemy, let alone stifle the rage that dwelled within him. “This is obviously strangely unpleasant for all of us,” he began. “You could have picked a better place to meet,” he said to Josiah, “like a dark alleyway.”
“You obviously still think of us as enemies,” Josiah replied.
Christel sipped his tea. “Aren’t you? You tried to kill us multiple times,” he glanced at Petra, “and you kidnapped my wife… twice.”
“And yet you never asked why.”
“Regardless, you can understand if we take it personally.” Christel folded his hands in his lap. “Now, you called this meeting so you obviously want something.”
“Quite right! Let us see; we took the liberty of relieving you of the air stone which means we have four of the five Summoning Stones. As you know, the final piece of this grand puzzle – the Spirit Stone – lies within the royal palace. We want you to steal it from the king and bring it to us. Once we have the five stones we will give you Hazel. It’s a simple trade.”
On impulse Christel agreed. “Do you give me your word?”
But Sam and Arlandra tried to stop him. “Christel, we can’t do that!”
“Listen to you friend,” said Josiah. “You know of my ideals which means you know that only one side is going to come out of this alive. I am a man of honour and I intend to play fair. Steal the crown and we’ll give your wife back; no more tricks and no more bickering.” He stood up and the Underbridge twins followed. “I’ll give you three days. When you have decided, meet us beneath the Tower of Eden at noon. Remember, whether or not Hazel lives is up to you.”
The group argued for two days. Christel firmly explained that if they delivered the Spirit Stone to Josiah then there would be a small window of time before it was used in which they could fight back. Devin and Juliet agreed with this. Sam, Arlandra and Ashley believed that the risk was too great and that they should begin planning a rescue operation for Hazel that didn’t involve giving Josiah the final piece of the puzzle. In two days they failed to compromise, and before dawn on the third day – trouble by perilous nightmares – Christel snuck out alone to meet his enemy.
On the coast above the mouth of the Sandra River the Tower of Eden pierced the sky. It was an old keep – over a century old – that stooped over on withering stone foundations. From the sea Christel saw the blue-green water of the Sandra collide with the deeper blue of the ocean. Beyond the tower pillars of smoke climbed towards the clouds, belonging to the regiment of men ordered to guard the northern approach to Eden. The war is really heating up if Eden is getting involved, Christel thought.
With winter nearing its end the land north of the Sandra flourished more than ever, the glass beneath his feet was long and luscious, blankets of moss hugged the cliffs where the waves constantly crashed, and the trees were tall and strong. This place – all the land of Eden – was Christel’s home, and Hazel’s and Devin’s home too. A group of soldiers built on their village of tents while a smith tended their weapons and another lit a fire. Christel seemed invisible to them. Doubt rose in his throat. I have to defend my home. I have to save Hazel.
He followed a winding path along the cliffs until he reached a peak that extended high over the ocean. Josiah sat upon a rock. He wore a heavy cloak and hid his mask beneath the hood. Germaine and Petra stood behind him, unmoving as the wind tore at their clothes. They didn’t acknowledge Christel until he was only a few paced away, then Josiah announced, “Lovely view from up here, I never thought the sea could appear so golden at this time of day.”
“You’re a stickler for small talk, you know that?”
“I think you just don’t know how to have fun.”
“There’s a time and a place, my shadowy friend. I showed up. Shall we get to business.”
Josiah stood up and faced him, the engravings on his mask highlighted by the shadow of his hood. “You’re a reasonable man, Christel, and I like that in you. The task is simple; you have seven days to breach the royal palace, steal the crown – or at least the crown jewel – and bring it to me at Vivica’s Temple on the Isle of Syndria. When the task is complete, you will have what you want, I will have what I want, and then we can see once and for all who will win this little battle.” He offered to shake Christel’s hand. “Agreed?”
Christel nodded. “Agreed. But no tricks.”
Before Christel could turn and leave Josiah stopped him. “Before you go I’d like to tell you a story. My father was my greatest mentor, he taught me many things, even until the day he died. He was killed in a duel with pistols. He always admired that sport because it showed that even enemies can be civil. He died in a fair contest, a challenge of skill and courage. That day he taught me, respect your enemies, even if you hate them, respect them; be the better man.”
Christel left the meeting feeling tormented. Respect your enemies. Betray your friends.
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