3. The Dark Boy
"He's an Adept," Ivan declared later at the inn, the first time the group was alone together after the meeting. "I'm absolutely sure. I think he must be a Jupiter Adept, just like me. It's the only way he could have known to avoid physical contact. He might not know he's got those powers, but he was acting very strange whenever I was about to read his mind. It was the psychic power common to the Jupiter caste."
"Ivan," said Mia, "you can't know that. You never actually got close enough to read him, so you're really just guessing."
"I'm with Ivan on this one," Garet said. "Forget psychic powers . . . that Devon kid couldn't possibly keep such huge men under control without power to back up his authority. And did you hear the way he talked about beating those monsters? He's got to be an Adept. It's the only way."
"I like him," Isaac said suddenly. The other three looked at him with surprise. He'd been very quiet since their meeting with Devon, retreating into some inner world. Indeed, he seemed half asleep even now, as he lay gazing blankly up at the ceiling. And to put in such a blunt, unconnected statement . . . Yet somehow, he'd stated the feelings of the entire party in three short words. Isaac was good at that.
"Here's what we'll do. Tomorrow morning, we'll start early, and speak with the residents of Toreau. We'll ask as many people as we can about Devon. As for the monsters . . . he didn't ever mention sending his men to fight, did he?"
His companions agreed that he hadn't.
"Well," Isaac continued. "I'm not about to let the kid face an army of monsters all by himself. So, we'll finish talking to townspeople by sunset, then meet in the plaza for battle. By that fountain."
Ivan flinched. For some reason, the word "fountain" reverberated in his head, as if it held some special importance. He pictured the fountain in the plaza under a torrent of rainwater, then himself, dripping wet from the rain, standing next to it. He shrugged the strange thought quickly away.
"So, we've got a big day tomorrow," Isaac concluded. "Let's get some sleep."
As the group found out, the people of Toreau were eager enough to talk about Devon. Most everyone seemed to like and respect the boy as their leader. Devon's boast from the night before seemed surprisingly accurate--for every boy the group found doing push-ups, lifting weights, or boxing with another, they found a girl who had already made marriage plans for the black-haired youth. They found an abundance of boys--most already larger than Garet and no older than twelve--who were incredibly eager to "fight with Devon against the demons."
Of course, Isaac soon realized that that was the source of most of Devon's fame. He was charismatic, but his true talent had to do with his fighting skill. Evidently, the town had lived peacefully until a time about twenty years before, when they were first assaulted by the monsters. The men had formed an army, and fought bravely for fourteen years, but were on the verge of being crushed.
And then Devon had appeared. Then a small boy of about eight, he had single-handedly driven the beasts back into hiding. Three years later, the "brutes" had named him their commander, awed by the continuous ease with which he defeated their enemies again and again.
Most of the town had perfect confidence in their young leader. It seemed widely known that the last vicious attack of the monsters would take place that night. All the children the party encountered were already proclaiming Devon's victory, (usually with accompanying gestures and sound effects), but a few of the adults voiced concern. Devon's strength was great, they admitted, but even he would be no match for the full force of the monster army.
Now, the group walked back across the town's plaza. The day was bright and hot, and all the rainwater had been blazed away. The fountain was no longer dark and menacing--rather, it was filled with smooth, pleasant, clear water.
Ivan stared at it all the same.
Soon, the group reached a cubical stone house that stood well away from the main flow of traffic. It was tightly packed against the stone wall that surrounded the city, as if struggling to escape the clutter of the other homes. Not really expecting an answer, Isaac knocked on the door. No answer came, but the door swung open on its own, evidently not closed all the way.
Isaac gazed into the house, perplexed.
"Go in," Ivan suggested, his voice level and decided for once.
The others stared at him. "Ivan!" Mia scolded him. "We can't just walk into someone's house! Even if the house is empty, it's still wrong!"
Garet smiled, maybe amused at Mia's surprise. His look seemed to say, "Let's hear it, Ivan. What's gotten into you, little guy?"
Isaac simply looked confused.
"The house is not empty," Ivan announced. "But we're supposed to come here. We are . . . expected."
"Ivan," said Mia decidedly, "you are strange."
Ignoring her, the Jupiter Adept nodded at Isaac. "Go on."
Shrugging his shoulders, for once leaving the decision up to someone else, Isaac stepped through the door.
Immediately, he realized Ivan was right--the house was not empty. In a chair, invisible from the entrance, sat a boy looking--no, glaring at him. The boy was incredibly pale, a look that was contrasted by the color of his tunic and long black hair. With his hands folded formally in his lap and a deep frown on his face, the boy held his dull blue eyes locked on Isaac.
"Hello," the boy said flatly.
He's about Ivan's age, Isaac thought for no especially good reason. He nodded in greeting.
"We were wondering . . ." began Garet.
"I'm wondering why you're in my house," snapped the boy.
"If you'd let me talk!"
"Talk!" the boy hissed. "Talk all you want! You've shown no restraint in your other freedoms, so talk. But don't tell me you are wondering. Rather, say you're wandering, since that's much closer to the truth."
Confused, Garet turned to Isaac for help.
"We're very sorry for the intrusion . . ."
"Aden," The boy cut him off. "I'm Aden."
"Okay," Isaac continued. "Sorry for the intrusion, Aden, but Ivan said it would be okay."
"Ivan . . ." he breathed the name. "You're Ivan, the youngest." He pointed to Ivan, who swallowed, then nodded.
Aden smiled--a look that seemed out of place, almost creepy, against his pale face.
"We'll leave," Isaac told him. "You're right. We shouldn't have come in here without permission."
"Did I say you had to leave?"
Ivan stared. What was with this boy? Something about him was fascinating. Ivan felt much as he had when he'd first met Devon--this boy had an interesting story, an interesting mind, you could tell just by looking at him. Aden was a boy who begged to be read. Ivan would do it, if he could get close enough. . . .
He rolled his eyes at the thought, and remembered back to the previous night, and the advice Garet had given him.
Garet and Ivan had been the last in the group to fall asleep. Ivan was distracted for hours thinking about Devon, and Garet . . . he just liked to talk. So, naturally, the two had fallen to talking about Devon. Garet had seemed very interested in the way Ivan had waited for the perfect opportunity to read Devon's mind--and had failed because of it. "You have to be more aggressive," Garet had suggested, as if giving advice to a younger brother about girls. "Don't wait for your target to come to you. Just go get them." Although it had sounded strange, Ivan took the advice to heart.
Be aggressive, he thought now, and walked purposefully toward Aden. Reaching the other boy, Ivan stretched out his arm, and abruptly clamped his hand onto Aden's wrist.
"What are you doing?" asked Aden, alarmed.
Then Ivan called his Mind Read Psynergy into action.
Suddenly, Aden's dull eyes grew huge with surprise. "Get off me!" he shouted, using his free hand to pry Ivan's fingers from his wrist.
But Ivan wouldn't let go.
His three friends stared at him with shock.
"STOP IT!" shouted Aden, shoving Ivan with all of his strength.
The Jupiter Adept flew backwards, his link with Aden broken, and tumbled awkwardly to the floor, barely avoiding hitting his head on the stone. As his friends helped him to his feet, he stared at Aden as if seeing him in a whole new light.
"Don't you ever do that again!" commanded Aden, panting as he glared, wide-eyed, at his tormentor.
Ivan made no answer, and simply withdrew to the relative safety of his friends.
"What did you get?" asked Isaac with an amused sigh. "Was it worth it?"
"He's an Adept!" Ivan gasped. "Another one!" Actually, he hadn't received the information nearly so clearly. What he'd pulled from Aden's mind was two thoughts, both overlapped, one muffling the other. The first was, "I can't let him know my secret," which was all but silent compared with the mental shriek of "My God! He's reading my MIND!" Only Adepts could tell when Psynergy was being used, so Ivan knew from the boy's reaction that Aden was an Adept.
"Are you sure?" asked Mia skeptically.
Garet snorted. "Next thing we know, we'll find out everyone in Toreau is an Adept."
"No," Ivan insisted. "Just Devon and Aden."
Aden flicked his gaze suspiciously between the members of the group, his eyes wide with something that was almost fear. "What's an Adept?" he asked.
"It's someone with black hair," Garet explained logically. "Devon's got black hair, so do you . . . there you go!"
Aden regarded Garet with an acidic glare. "I don't believe you're telling the truth . . ."
"Then we're not the only ones," Ivan accused. "Why don't you tell us about your secret?"
"I have no secrets," Aden snapped, daring anyone to oppose him.
Cautiously, Ivan inched closer to Isaac. Aden had a secret, all right. But somehow, Ivan couldn't bring himself to believe it was that he was an Adept. There was something deeper going on here, and he had to find out what.
Trying to be inconspicuous as Garet and Mia tried to pacify Aden, Ivan whispered to Isaac. "I have to read his mind again," he said quietly, hoping Aden wouldn't notice them for the time being. "It's important. But he's suspicious of me now. I need you to distract him, so I can get close."
Nodding and smiling as if amused by Ivan's plan, Isaac agreed.
"What did you just do?" Aden demanded, but his question was ignored.
"So, Aden," Isaac began. "What do you think of Devon?"
That switched Aden's focus of attention easily enough. "Devon?" he snarled. "Devon is a fool. A wretched, conceited, disgusting fool, who thinks he can command everyone around him just because he's got a little power. I'm just as old, and far smarter than that bastard, and you don't see me trying to manage this wretched town!" He didn't look at Isaac as he spoke, but instead talked vehemently to the floor in front of the earth user, lost in his own vocalization of hatred.
"You think you could manage the city?" Isaac asked, moving into another corner of the room, away from Ivan. Although he was looking at the floor, Aden's eyes roughly followed the sound of Isaac's voice.
"What?" the dark-haired boy asked, as if his attention were focused on something else. His eyes twitched subconsciously toward Ivan, but not enough to detect him.
It's now or never, thought Ivan grimly. What was Aden's deep, dark secret? He had never felt such and urge to peek inside someone's mind before, not since Devon, and he had ultimately been denied his prize in that case. He would not make the same mistake with Aden.
Decidedly, he dashed toward his target and seized him by the wrist, this time with both hands. Seconds later, he summoned his Mind Read Psynergy again.
The other boy reacted violently.
This time, Aden didn't even bother trying to pry Ivan's fingers from his wrist. Instead of trying to free himself, Aden hooked his hands into claws and clamped them firmly into Ivan's lower arms. Before, he had tried to escape from Ivan's touch, but now he seemed equally determined to prevent Ivan's escape from his.
Ivan flinched as he felt the pressure of Aden's nails digging into his skin, and attempted to speed his power up, digging frantically to discover that one secret, the one piece of information he needed to escape.
And, growling with fury, Aden released a power of his own.
Thoughts and images rushed through Ivan's head, none of them belonging to him. "Too fast!" panicked Ivan through the increasingly incomprehensible blur. "What's he doing?!" The thoughts made no sense at all. As the room began to fade to black, Ivan was aware of having lost himself in Aden's thoughts, none of which were any longer worth the trouble of looking at. His Mind Read had trapped him somehow, enfolding him in mental and physical agony. His body convulsed under the force of so many indistinguishable images. Did he scream? He wasn't sure.
He felt like he was in a tunnel. The room, his friends . . . everything had disappeared, to be replaced by this horrible, cold, dark tunnel formed by Aden's thoughts and memories. At the end of this swirling tunnel, where light should have been, sat Aden himself, a sly, victorious grin stamped onto his pale face. But Ivan barely noticed the smile. What held his attention were Aden's eyes, a dull, cloudy blue that swirled inexplicably like the motion of a storm. If eyes were indeed windows to the soul, Ivan was sure Aden had no soul. Aden's huge black pupils stretched back a further distance than Ivan could imagine, an infinite extension of the tunnel his mind was lost in.
What are you DOING to me?!
Aden's dark voice answered him, sounding unbelievably alive as it bounced off of the memories that formed the walls of the cave. Yet the life his voice carried was not anything beautiful, but spoke of rampant, unchecked growth--viruses, bacteria, diseases.
I'm teaching you a lesson.
With one final, desperate struggle to resist, Ivan allowed his consciousness to evaporate into the walls of the tunnel like a drop of dye into a river.