069 - The Sound of Thunder

[Amyral]

“How’s he doing?” Krivin asked as soon as Costanza walked away from the surgical shed.

“He’ll survive. I managed a binding spell on his body. It’ll keep him stable while the surgeons work, but it won’t last forever,” Costanza responded.

Krivin looked down at Alex. The boy hadn’t said anything since the incident. He was sitting down, his legs pulled to his chest and he rocked back and forth some. Cost didn’t seem to care about the kid, or at least about his mind. Krivin walked over and sat down next to Alex, rubbing his hair some. “You OK, kid?” he asked.

Alex nodded, biting his lip some. “I… I think so…” he managed to stammer out after several minutes where the only sound was Alex’s tennis shoes squeaking.

Krivin nodded. “He’ll be ok.” Krivin reassured Alex.

Alex nodded. “I know… It’s just… I could have stopped it.”

“You could have?” Krivin asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Cost glanced over, his curiosity piqued by the boy’s words.

But Alex didn’t elaborate. He didn’t tell them how he could have, or why he didn’t, he just said he could have. But both of them could tell that Alex felt guilty, that he in some way felt responsible for what had happened.

Cost knelt down, letting out a sigh and sitting next to Alex. “You have a lot of potential, Alex. I can tell. You’re young, but powerful. It should be of no surprise, you come from powerful bloodlines.”

Alex sighed, looking down as though he had just repeated his previous statement, that he could have done something, that he shouldn’t have sat there and watched while his dad and uncle and everyone else fought.

“But potential is nothing without the experience and knowledge behind it,” Cost continued, looking at both Krivin and Alex as he spoke. “This experience will be positive for you, as long as you learn from it.”

The door opened and a man in a green surgeons’ outfit looked down at the three. He pulled the blue paper mask from his mouth. The three looked up at him, his solemn face. The man had spent the better part of two hours working on Logan, trying to stem the young man’s wounds for as long as Cost’s magic could keep him stable.

He nodded and Cost and Krivin let out a sigh of relief. They all stood and walked into the medical shack. There were few surgeons, or medical personnel of any kind. It had taken the entire staff to save him. Logan was lying on a table, an oxygen mask on his mouth and the slow, steady beat of an EKG machine at his side. The medical ward was otherwise empty, like much of the camp, a testament to how well One Nation’s mission was going.

They all looked at Logan. He would survive, although he was out of it. Now all they could do was wait to see if everyone else did. Krivin looked down at Alex, rubbing his head. “Let’s go outside and wait for your father to return.”

***
There was a loud splintering sound as the wooden dummy began to split. Jesse grunted, pulling the pommel out of the dummy before leaping back, his sword slashing down across the dummy. He grunted, fighting through the pain as the sword swished through the air, cutting through the wooden body.

He spun, slashing around, his swords catching a beam of light as he cut through the dummy’s waist, the dummy splitting into two.

“He’s recovering nicely, ahead of schedule,” the Colonel said, glancing at Elizabeth.

“He still needs time. He’s a lot slower now. I can see he’s still in pain,” Elizabeth responded.

Jesse screamed, thrusting the sword loudly into the dummy, wincing as he pressed into it.

“You’d think, I have other ideas,” the Colonel said. “I’ve been reviewing your mission logs. I think I’ve noticed a common trend.”

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. “A trend? What are you talking about?” The Colonel walked over and began to turn the dials on the wall near the control room. A soft music began to pipe into the room and Elizabeth glanced at him. “Ode to Joy?”

The man grinned. Several dummies shot up from the floor and Jesse winced, slowly standing up. He looked up as the music played and closed his eyes. A smile crept across his face. Elizabeth couldn’t see the individual moves. She could see the wood splintering and hear the cracking as he attacked. Just as soon as the music stopped, she could see pieces of the wooden dummies scattered about the room. Jet stood, his swords glistening down at his side as he looked at the collection of severed wooden necks and slashed wooden bodies.

“He didn’t seem to be hindered by pain there, did he, Elizabeth?”

“What just happened?” she asked, glancing at him.

The Colonel smiled. “Music hath charms to soothe a save beast, to soften rocks or bend a knotted oak.”

Elizabeth furled her brow. “You didn’t quote that correctly.”

The Colonel shrugged. “Arts have never been my strong suit, Elizabeth. But they seem to be for Jesse. Every time he’s gone against orders, every rule he’s broken and every bit of brutality he has shown, he’s sung.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. So what?” she asked.

He grinned. “So what? Music is the answer, Elizabeth. We’ve seen it time and time again, music makes him tap into some unmeasured ability. It’s the answer, Elizabeth. We just have to figure out the question, we just have to figure out what he can do.”

Elizabeth looked into the window at him, letting out a deep sigh. The more she learned about him, the less she realized she knew about him. She looked at all that remained of the wooden dummies and shook her head. The entire idea was preposterous, but she couldn’t discount it. Something about him was off, and it was only now that she began to realize how music seemed to connect to everything, from the first day she saw his brutal side. She shivered, nodding and turning to the Colonel.

“What do you propose?”

He smirked. “We find his muse.”