Chapter Eighteen
Unsure if his friend had heard him, Rowen fairly flew from the sofa to the door. Watching through the frost covered glass, he caught fleeting glimpses of his friend as he crept from tree to tree following a barely visible trail in the snow. Taking to the trees, Sage was all but invisible amongst the black branches in the moonless darkness that heralded the blinding light of dawn.
Balling his fists in frustration, Rowen couldn't help but feel as though he was watching his friend's almost animalistic tracking for the first and last time. And it wasn't his own feelings or thoughts that had brought this on. That is what disturbed him the most. For all of Sage's fear, he had simply gone on with the idea of following this powerful, mysterious shadow of a living girl. And, for all the fear they had shared only moments ago, Rowen was brought to a tremblingly frustrated frenzy of indecision by the terrifying lack of fear Sage was now feeling. Aside from the lack of fear, what Rowen now felt from his friend was a mixture of determination and cold peace.
The sort of peace that came before a battle one knew they would neither win nor walk away from.
Unwilling to disobey his friend's command, but neither wishing to lose his closest lifelong friend, Rowen fought an inner battle he was sure to lose either way…much as his friend. Trembling, standing with balled fists and tense muscles, Rowen sought deep within himself to the very spirit of the Armor of Strata where it lay dormant. Awakening the spirit of Strata he used the one power he knew he could use without disobeying his friend directly. Releasing the power of the Life Force he felt surging within him, he closed his eyes to the light the kanji on his forehead shone from without and turned to the scenes his power showed him within his own heart and soul away from the deceiving images of the eyes. There he found what he sought. Two powerfully pulses of Life and vitality surrounded in a world consumed in the resting phase of death before renewal. No, it was not hard to find or follow their movements. But that was not what he wanted to see. What he wanted to know was what his friend had not told him, what his friend had been…afraid to say?
But all Rowen found within his friend was what he had been feeling the whole time anyway. Peace, curiosity, determination…and something more. Something beyond the power of love and closeness he felt for Hali. It was something vague and distant. There was something else that seemed woven in the very fabric of the universe that wielded and spun the powers all around them in a way that was incomprehensible to even Rowen of the Strata; who was in no way a stranger to powers above and beyond the mortal worlds he knew so well. What he sensed was a power so vast and so distant, yet so close and closing in ever further, that he could not pinpoint it or even begin to understand it. And, for all of this that he now felt, Rowen knew that there was nothing he could do anyway. Whatever it was that was taking place now between Hali and Sage was not for him or any other. Regardless what results these next two hours—or more—would produce for all of them, he was helpless to do anything against it…as was his friend.
This was in the hands of something far beyond any of them in their meaningless, mortal lives. Though this only disturbed Rowen further, he no longer fought against the will to follow his friend, for that will had already died. Releasing his fears and concerns for his friends, he let the soothing comfort of the spirit of the Strata Armor drift throughout the whole of his being on an unseen current of cleansing wind. Sweeping away all but the remaining feeling of fate and destiny and powers gathering all about him and the others, the wind that had comforted him and taken away his fear and pain so many times in the past, he released the tension throughout his body. He sensed the vitality of the Life Force both within himself and from each and every living thing around him stirring in the first stages of awakening that spring promised to bring.
Rowen opened his eyes to gaze sightlessly out the window one last time knowing he would see nothing but snow and ice. With the faintest of smiles, he reluctantly let go of the power he had been holding. Though it may have felt good to summon the living power of his armor once again, he could remember many a day in the past two years he had also wished the need for this power would never be known again. Even without Talpa, there was no way to be certain of the evils that could arise once more. But never had he thought it would be like this. Never had he thought that after all his hard-won victories and battles against the evils of the Dynasty that he would wind up looking to Strata for peace ever again. Grinning mirthlessly to himself and anything or anyone that may have been watching this lone insignificant mortal, he vaguely recalled his early days of youth and first encounters with the power of the Armor of Strata.
In all his years thus far, never had he thought to be caught up in such a dizzying spiral of powers and destinies. But, then again, he had never thought—even in all the daydreams…or nightmares of his childhood—that he would ever be the bearer of a thousand-year-old mystical armor. Nor had he thought he would be battling for the fate of the living, realm of mortal man against the deadly powers of an immortal realm of death. Biting back a bitter, mirthless laugh Rowen turned from the scene before his eyes and moved back to the sofa where he knew he would not sleep.
As in the first days of battle against Talpa and the Dynasty, Rowen let it all of his concerns rest in the capable hands of destiny. Praying silently as he had so many times in the past, he pleaded that what the days to come would bring them would be an evil they could battle—and beat. He prayed that what he and the others were doing was truly right and good. He prayed in the unresponsive, unforgiving darkness as he did after every beating his father had given him, as he had before every battle, that his power would not fail him as he played his minute role to its fated end. In this great scheme of powers and destinies of worlds and universes he understood all too well now—if never before—that they were not alone in this universe, nor were they the greatest or most powerful.
Perhaps Talpa had not been the greater power against them. But Rowen was not about to wonder who this new enemy may be. Because he somehow knew—much as Sage seemed to—that this war was not against evil…at least, not in their definition of evil. But it was a war Rowen was determined to fight to the end—and emerge the victor alongside those fellow Warriors he knew to be his only friends in all of this.
Just as swiftly as these great and powerful thoughts of destiny and fate had entered his mind, they disappeared once more into the darkened void of reality and the present. Shaking his head as if to clear it from a fog, Rowen wondered briefly if he had perhaps dozed off. Hearing the gentle footsteps upon the stairs of one of his friends, he just slumped back into the cushions of the sofa dazedly. Sage was off following Hali and too far away to even bother reaching out to through their weak psychic link. Heaving a sigh, he buried his face in his hands miserably feeling more helpless than he had since the days of his father's abuse. There was nothing he could do for Sage without disobeying his command and angering him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what it was he had been thinking only moments ago that now escaped him. It had been a comforting thought of-of…
Frustrated once more, Rowen resisted the urge to hit something or someone. What was happening to him? What was happening to his friends out there in the biting cold of early morning? What was happening to all of them? Could there really be something stirring on the breezes that even the Armor of Strata wasn't noticing? Or was he just being paranoid because Hali wasn't one of them, but not normal either?
"Maybe I'm just going crazy," Rowen mumbled into his palms with a mirthless chuckle at how simple and open the truth was. He had dozed off and had a dream. Sage was just following Hali for a morning stroll to question her about the journal they had found. Nothing had changed and nothing was about to change. Right?
"Well, this is certainly a surprise. I don't believe I've ever seen you up this early without the Dynasty acting as an alarm clock," Sai said cheerfully as he flipped on the lights.
Pulling his hands away from his face, Rowen just stared blankly at his friend through the blinding light. Wearily, he waved good morning to his friend.
"You look kind of pale, Rowen. Rough would be a better word. Are you feeling okay?" Sai asked worriedly as he approached his friend.
"Yeah, fine," Rowen mumbled, staring tiredly at the floor. "Just didn't sleep very well I guess."
Dubiously Sai looked his friend over, but decided to let it go at that. Resuming his cheerful chatter, Sai moved into the kitchen to start making breakfast never noticing the last, forlorn look Rowen had given the window beside the door. Nor did he notice the disoriented shake of his friend's head as he rose to leave the room. But the one thing both parties seemed to have missed altogether was the single, silent presence that stood now in the center of the living room cursing in his silent voice that so few humans could ever hear.
He had been so close to finally getting Rowen to see and understand what it was that was going on all about them and the truth it held. Then, that understanding and broadened perception of so many things beyond the grasp of the human mind, slipped effortlessly from both of their grasps as if stolen by the very wind that was Rowen's great power. As if someone or something didn't want Rowen to understand or see.
"Someone like Rowen himself most likely," the ghostly form cursed to the empty room. With a weary, frustrated sigh that went unheard by the inhabitants of the house once again, he said, "Ignorance is bliss, isn't it, Ancient One?"
"Do not be discouraged so easily, Anubis. Not everything is as easily done as it may appear," replied the second ghostly figure of the Ancient as he appeared beside Anubis.
"Was it this hard to open their eyes to the Armors they had held unknowingly?" Anubis asked, still somewhat frustrated.
With a wistful smile of days long gone, the Ancient patted Anubis's shoulder comfortingly. "If only it had been this easy, my friend."
Unable to withstand the unfamiliar humor of the Ancient, Anubis grinned in return. "I will continue to try, Ancient."
"Be quick. There isn't much time left and we have yet to fully understand what is happening ourselves."
"I will, Ancient One," Anubis vowed with renewed determination as he bowed respectfully to his mentor's command.
With that the spectral figure of the Ancient faded once more into nothingness as Anubis resumed to searching for ways to warn them praying he would not wind up using Hali to do so. Heaving another sigh, he began to move on, eternally grateful that the Ancient had at last reappeared to help him, even if he wasn't the same wise old man that he remembered.