Terry Brooks - Armageddon’s Children

A disembodied voice spoke next, one he did not recognize. There was no face attached to this voice, no presence to identify its source. The voice sounded very old. It told him the story of the boy and his children, the one Owl had told the Ghosts piecemeal. Only this version, while essentially the same, was different, too. It was more complicated and larger in scope. He was still the boy and the Ghosts were still his children, but there were others, too.

Together, they traveled a long way to find a place where the walls were built of light and the colors were no longer muted but bright and pure. In this place, there was a sense of peace, a promise of safety and a reassurance that the bad things in the world couldn't reach them. He heard his name spoken over and over.

Hawk. Hawk. He didn't know what it meant, and he couldn't see who was doing the speaking. But the sound of it made him feel wanted.

Further images appeared. He saw monsters and dark things rising up to confront him. He saw himself running from them and saw them giving chase. The Ghosts ran with him, and with them a scattering of others. The pursuit went on, a long and arduous race against a death that rode on the back of a fiery wind that followed in the wake of his pursuers.

There were other visions, as well–other voices–coming together out of the awakening that the finger bones had generated, out of the resurfacing of his memories and the foretelling of his future. Some of them stayed with him; some of them were lost. He understood that this was necessary, that it was all part of restoring his identity. Revelations came in the form of small touchings, in the form of fingerprints of his life's passing. But where the past was fixed, the future was fluid and could not yet be fully defined. He understood why this was so and was not troubled by it.

When it was done, his mother was there again, bending close to kiss him on the cheek, to reassure him anew, to let him feel her presence, which she would not deprive him of again.

Trust in me, she whispered to him as she faded.

Mother, he called after her.

Yes, the nature of his awakening was perfectly clear to him afterward–the visions and voices, the story of his birth and parentage, and the arduous nature of the journey that lay ahead. He even understood for the first time what it was that had happened between Cheney and himself when the dying animal's wounds had mysteriously healed in his presence. As the gypsy morph, as a creature of magical origins, he apparently possessed some innate ability to heal. Although why that ability had never manifested itself before still confused him.

But what wasn't made clear to him, what he didn't understand, was what he was expected of him. He was trapped in this cell with only a few hours of life left. Logan Tom had told him on leaving that he would be back for him, that he would not let him die. But Hawk wasn't sure about this. Logan Tom did not seem strong enough to break down walls and gates of concrete and steel. He did not seem powerful enough to take on the entire population of the compound. He was one man, and however well intentioned or determined he might be, however formidable his skills, it did not seem possible that he could do what was needed.

Yet Hawk's future was there in the visions, and it did not end with his death at the bottom of the compound walls. For that future to happen, he would have to break free of his prison.

Was he meant to do this on his own?

He tried to make sense of it, to determine if there was something that he could do, but he couldn't think of anything. If he had magic at his disposal, he didn't know how to use it. He kept coming back to the image of his mother speaking those three small words–trust in me. For reasons he couldn't explain, they formed a powerful web of faith that was wholly lacking in any concrete source of support but that refused to let him be. How was his mother supposed to help him? How was he, in turn, supposed to help Tessa?

There were no answers. He slipped the finger bones into his pocket and lay back, weary from all he had experienced. Maybe, he thought, Logan Tom would come for him as he had said he would. Maybe he just needed to have the faith his mother's words suggested.

But he was powerless within this dark room, behind these compound walls and in the hands of people who hated and feared him. He didn't feel like anything special, whatever his supposed origins. He was just someone who had tried to find a home and a family to belong to.

What more was he supposed to be?

Trust in me, he heard his mother whisper one last time.

Then he fell asleep.

LOGAN TOM STOOD with Panther in the deep shadows just inside the building doorway that fronted Pioneer Square. The others were upstairs completing their preparations for leaving. When informed of her plans, Logan had agreed with Owl; whatever happened, it was time for them to get out of there. She had told him about the giant centipede, a creature he had never even heard of, let alone encountered. Too many strange things were coming into the world, and Logan knew what that meant. If there was to be any civilization in the future, any human presence, it was time to start thinking about how they would make it happen.

"This is what you are going to do," he told Panther. "After we get in sight of the compound, you will walk up to the front gates and start yelling for them to let Hawk out. Stay well back when you do. Don't do anything to suggest you are carrying a weapon. If they even think you have a weapon, they will shoot you. All you have to do is yell at them for about five minutes or so. Got it?"

Panther nodded. "What's the point?"

"While you're yelling at them, they'll be looking at you. That will let me get through the rubble to the underground tunnel Tessa used to meet Hawk. That's how I'm going to get into the compound."

The boy shook his head. "That door gonna be locked. Plus, they might see you anyway."

"Let me worry about that. All you need to do is keep their attention for those five minutes. Then get out of there. Don't stand around waiting for something to happen. If you see them start to come out or do anything that even looks like they might be coming out, you run for it." He paused. "No wild stuff. No heroics."

The boy grinned. "So where do I run to?"

"Back to the edge of the square so that I can find you again when I'm done."

He reached down to button the heavy jacket he was wearing and turned up the collar. The day was growing chilly. He crooked the black staff in his arm as he straightened his clothing. Panther glanced at the staff, then at him. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where's your weapons? You ain't going in there with no weapons, are you?"

Logan almost smiled. Once, he would have carried a Tyson Flechette, a brace of Arrow Stunners, and a K-Bar Classic. He would have worn body armor and a helmet with night vision built into the visor. But that was a long time ago, before he became a Knight of the Word.

He took the staff out of the crook of his arm. "This is all I need. Let's go."

The sun was already sinking into the far reaches of the western sky as they walked out the door and into the street. They would have perhaps another two hours of light, two hours in which to get to Hawk and Tessa before the death sentence was carried out. Logan knew it was barely enough time, even if things went the way they should. They would have to hurry.

He said a quick good–bye to Owl, mostly to reinforce his earlier instructions. She was to make certain that the Ghosts left Pioneer Square as quickly as possible, taking whatever they could either carry or haul in the carts. If he were successful in rescuing Hawk and Tessa, the compound would dispatch armed guards to bring them back. They would begin their search in Pioneer Square, and the Ghosts had better not be there when they did. They were to go up to the freeway to where the Lightning was parked and wait for him there. He had given her directions on how to find the vehicle and had warned her against approaching it. If they could find an abandoned trailer of some sort in which to load and pull both kids and possessions, it would be helpful. But they were not to do anything else or leave the area for any reason other than to find safety. They were to stay put and wait for him.