“He only just made it. I had to repair a mass of blood vessels just to the left of the heart. It was a mess in there, it’s a miracle he didn’t bleed out. The first bullet did most of the damage. The second was almost as bad. The third broke his left arm in the middle of the humerus, but that will heal up fine. The fourth was just a superficial wound on his other shoulder.”

  “He would have needed blood, how much have we got left on site?”

  Anton realized that the speakers were Juliette and Francis Mirovar.

  “We’re out,” Juliette noted. “We had to give him multiple transfusions. Fortunately, he’s progressed far enough through the physical transformation to be a universal receiver, and we were helped by some live donations.”

  “Who supplied it?” Francis asked.

  “Jay and Peter.”

  “… Well, Jay would have liked that,” Francis observed ironically.

  “He didn’t complain,” Juliette noted. They approached his bedside. “He’s waking up.”

  Firm hands held his head steady as someone pulled out the tube in his throat. He almost gagged as it slid out of his mouth, the feeling passed, and he started breathing on his own.

  “It’s been five hours since he was shot,” Francis stated.

  “Equivalent to two days healing, he’s doing well.”

  Anton opened his eyes.

  Francis let go of his head. Moving to stand next to his wife, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Smashed … but I’ll live,” Anton replied, his voice quiet and raspy.

  Francis smiled slightly. “Good man.”

  Anton lifted his head to sit up, thought better of it and rested back down. Juliette put a cup of water with a straw in it near his mouth, he tilted his head slightly, sipping the throat soothing water in careful swallows.

  Anton looked at Francis and inquired, “What happened? Who were they?”

  “Ramin Kain, and -”

  “His lackey, Samuel Luther,” Juliette interjected. “What?” she glanced at her husband, her eyes flashing. “You know I’ve never liked either of them.”

  Francis nodded. “The Head of the Order of Thoth, and one of his staff.”

  “They tried to kill me, why?”

  “That’s a good question,” Francis sighed. “And I’m not sure what the answer is.”

  “He shouldn’t have shot Anton, it’s outrageous,” Juliette declared fiercely.

  Francis agreed, “Yes - attacking someone who is already training with a force team - it’s just not done. Any disciplinary matter is always referred to the force leader.” He shook his head. “Never has the Head of the Order attempted the blatant assassination of an unconfirmed member of the Order.”

  “So, why?” Anton asked perplexedly.

  “Technically he is entitled to defend the secrecy of the Order.” Francis offered.

  Juliette titled her head, her lips curling skeptically. “And it’s what he claimed he was doing.”

  Francis frowned. “Yes, he went on about it at length.”

  “I’m no threat to the Order?”

  “Of course, you aren’t,” Juliette agreed, placing her hand calmly on his forehead.

  “Are they still here?”

  “Long gone,” Juliette smirked. “Kain stormed off, with Luther scuttling along behind him.”

  Francis put his hand gently on Anton’s left shoulder and advised, “Don’t worry, they know better than to try something like that again.”

  Memories flashed through Anton’s mind, and he asked, “Sanctuary - what is it?”

  “The heart of our tradition,” Francis declared seriously.

  “Anton, you’re a guest with us until the Conclave,” Juliette stated serenely. “There is no way that I would allow a guest to come to harm, not while I draw breath.”

  Francis’ mouth worked momentarily, and he looked away. When he looked back, his eyes were glistening. He declared with conviction, “You’re under my wife’s protection, that means that you are under mine as well.”

  Francis’ emotion washed over him in a wave. Its power shocked him to his core. Two things were crystal clear, Francis Mirovar loved Juliette more than life itself, and he hated the fact she’d taken on the risk of protecting Anton.

  Juliette put her arm around her husband’s shoulders. Leaning in, she kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “Always the emotional one.”

  Anton was embarrassed by the display of private intimacy between Francis and Juliette and glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Harrumph,” murmured Francis. He fixed Anton with a steely glare. “Don’t imagine that our protection is a pass on training, combat or acceptance by the Order. Get well soldier, I don’t want you falling behind.”

  “… Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  Francis nodded, squeezed his wife’s hand and left the room. Juliette continued to work with Anton, adjusting equipment and monitoring his vital signs for another fifteen minutes. She gave him an injection to help him sleep. As he started to drift away, a question gnawed at his mind.

  The Head of the Order of Thoth wants me dead, and I don’t know why. What the hell is going on?

  * * *

  The afternoon sunlight cut through the glade, dappling the grass and freshly turned soil. A solemn quiet ruled the spaces between the trees on the hill. The members of the Mirovar force team stood around the open grave. There was no music, no fanfare, only the silence of the woods near the safe house farm.

  Li lifted the flask that contained the last of her family reserve Sake and poured it over the grave. She shook out the last drops, turned away in silence, her face streaked with tears.

  Francis stated softly, “May his heart be as light as a feather.”

  I’ve had enough of this, Anton thought.

  He nudged Peter’s thigh with his right forearm and whispered harshly, “Give me a hand.”

  Peter leaned down and supported Anton as he lurched out of the Vietnam war vintage wheelchair he’d been sitting in. He stood on unsteady legs for a second or three, wobbled a bit, and then straightened up.

  “Gang was the best man I ever met. The best teacher and the best friend. He can never be replaced, and I will never forget him.”

  The group murmured their assent.

  “The world is poorer for his passing. I’m not going to sit in a damn wheelchair feeling sorry for myself when I’m damn sure that Gang wouldn’t do the same. Goodbye Gang.” Anton’s voice caught on Gang’s name. “… I’m done here.”

  Turning, Anton pushed past Peter and started walking the half mile back to the safe house.

  Juliette appeared beside him, and declared hotly, “Don’t be stupid Anton, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since you were shot.”

  Anton faced her. Wearing a reckless grin and glistening eyes. “This world is hard - I’m going to be harder.”

  “Well, don’t waste my efforts dying on the way back,” Juliette insisted in nettled tones.

  Anton turned away, declaring, “I won’t,” over his shoulder, and led the team back to the safe house. He walked slowly and steadily. About halfway there, Li came up and nudged herself in under his right arm.

  “You’re really starting to wobble,” she whispered.

  “I’m going to kill her,” Anton vowed.

  “Not by yourself.”

  Anton looked down at Li, her face was still, her gaze was intense.

  “Agreed.”

  Anton pushed on but had to admit to himself, it was only the presence of Li that got him the last fifty yards to the safe house.

  * * *

  Li found Francis alone in the library. A cozy room on the lower floor, opposite the briefing room. The library’s walls were covered with bookshelves filled with an eclectic array of books and folios. She hesitated for a moment at the doorway, pensive with a rare indecisiveness. She carried the White Dragon before her with hands that threatened to tremble.

  Francis looked up; his eyes widened. He put aside the book he was reading. Indicating another lounge chair next to his own, he offered, “Please sit with me.”

  Li walked over to the chair and sat down. The White Dragon resting in its scabbard across her knees. She looked directly at Francis for a moment, then lowered her eyes. After a moment, she looked at him again and declared baldly, “I want you to have the White Dragon.”

  Francis’ eyes glistened. “Are you sure? It’s a family heirloom.”

  Li paused for a long moment. “I am the last of my family.”

  “You may have children one day.”

  Li smiled wanly, “Perhaps, but who knows when.”

  “If you keep the sword, you can pass it down when the time comes.”

  Li stood up decisively, presenting the White Dragon to Francis, and insisted, “No, the time is now. There is no one else who is more deserving of this sword. No one else who shares the same commitment to the goals of the Order as my father did.”

  Francis stood up and bowed toward Li. Receiving the White Dragon, he offered sincerely, “You honor me with this priceless gift.”

  Li shuddered as grief, and helpless longing coalesced within her. The gift of the sword carried with it the final acknowledgment of the death of her father. With the memory of his burial fresh from the morning, tears rolled down her cheeks, and she sobbed once. Francis put the sword aside. He wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face against his chest.

  Francis tenderly stroked the back of her head. She sobbed again and again. There was a timeless moment when she felt protected and safe. Taking slow deep breaths, her sadness retreated enough to allow her to speak.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Thank you, dear child,” Francis offered softly, loosening his arms.

  Li pushed back and looked up into Francis’ face. There was only acceptance and fatherly love there. Her heart overflowed. Her breath caught for a second, she stepped back further, bowed formally and left the library.

  * * *

  The sun was peeking over the horizon, its light washing across the farm yard.

  Anton had been up for fifteen minutes, it was a week since Gang’s funeral, and he hungered to start training. Juliette had finally given him a medical release. He’d healed up enough to join in without risk of doing any more damage. The scars remained, puckered marks and suture lines running across his ribs just below his left nipple. His arm was free of its cast, and he rotated his shoulders to loosen up. The team was in the training barn, the doors had been thrown open and a light morning breeze wafted through the barn.

  Francis ordered, “Peter, lead us in.”

  “Sure, Boss. Okay everyone, form a line. It’s time to feel the burn.”

  Someone had arranged a set of stations throughout the barn. Tractor tires, thick ropes attached to the ceiling, heavy kettlebells, and thick rubber bands.

  Peter stood in front of Anton, leaned forward and grinned. “I’m going to introduce you to the concept of active rest.”

  “Right, sounds like fun.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Peter stepped back and addressed everyone, “Okay - we’re just getting older standing around, Francis and Juliette, start with the tires, Li and Chiara on the ropes, Yvette and Jay on the kettlebells, and Anton and I will start with the bands. One-minute rotations, no stopping.”

  Peter checked his watch, set a timer and got into position next to Anton. He picked up the thick rubber band, stepping onto it with both feet shoulder width apart. He grabbed it with both hands palm down, lifted and pushed it up as if lifting a barbell. Anton watched Peter and did the same.

  “Okay. No ramping - Go!” Peter shouted.

  A familiar competitive urge rushed through Anton’s soul, he desperately wanted to match whatever Peter could do.

  The exercises continued without rest. Peter’s watch pinged loudly every sixty seconds, and the pairs would swap to another station. Anton and Peter rotated through the kettlebells, lifting the twenty-kilo weights repeatedly up to their chests. Followed by climbing the ropes as fast as they could hand over hand and then reversing back down them. Then it was the tractor tires, flipping them over, running around them and flipping them back. After four minutes, each pair returned to their original station, and the cycle began again and continued throughout the morning. Peter spiced up the cycle by adding sprints up and down the length of the barn and then added squat jumps, pushups, and burpees as well.

  At two hours and fourteen minutes into the workout, Anton pulled to a halt at the end of a sprint, doubled over and repeatedly dry retched for about fifteen seconds.

  Peter paused next to him, looked down at the bare ground at Anton’s feet and observed briskly, “No blood, that’s a good sign. Now try and keep up.”

  The session continued for another sixteen minutes.

  “Good work everyone,” Peter called out. “Get some water and come back in five.”

  Anton picked up a water bottle, and it shook in his trembling hands. He concentrated on stilling them and took a long swig of water. He stretched his chest, his ribs on the left were tight and raw. He breathed deeply, sure that his full powers would come back in time.

  Li patted his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Good.”

  He followed her back to where Peter stood. Peter led them through twenty minutes of stretching, demonstrating that he possessed amazing flexibility for a big man. The session ended with a gut-busting plank where they held a position face down, supported on their toes and elbows for ten minutes. Anton made it to the seventh minute and then began collapsing onto the ground.

  Peter appeared beside him, his finger just beneath Anton’s chest. Peter pushed up slightly, supporting Anton’s body weight. He whispered into Anton’s ear, “C’mon Anton, you can make another couple of minutes.”

  Anton drew on every resource that he could call on and lifted himself back off Peter’s finger.

  “Awesome. C’mon Anton keep it going.”

  Sweat dripping from his face, his body trembling, Anton wore the pain and moved deeper into the intensity of the effort.

  “Thirty seconds.”

  Anton vowed to go harder.

  Anton’s body dropped a fraction of an inch, brushing Peter’s finger, and immediately jerked back up into position.

  “Ten seconds.”

  White noise roared through Anton’s body.

  “Stop.”

  Anton refused to stop.

  Peter’s hand pressed into the middle of his back, and he collapsed forward onto the hard-packed dirt of the barn floor. He rolled over and lay there, sucking air into his lungs. Peter and Li stood over him, grinning.

  “First session back - not bad,” Li observed.

  “Awesome work, Anton,” Peter affirmed. He hauled Anton back to his feet and handed him a fresh water bottle. “Time for a shower and breakfast.”

  Anton nodded and started walking slowly toward the house with Peter and Li. Before they left the barn, Francis called them over. Juliette was standing next to him, smiling happily.

  Francis put his hand on her shoulder and offered, “Li, we need an understudy for the roles of loremaster and netmaster, Juliette will help you with that.”

  Li looked shocked. “I’m honored.”

  “You’re a natural,” Juliette affirmed. “It would be a terrible waste not to train you.”

  “Thank you,” Li said.

  “Li and Anton,” Francis directed. “You need driver and flight training. Peter will teach you.”

  “Sure, Boss,” Peter agreed. He looked at Juliette. “Is it okay if I get them both into the simulations after breakfast.”

  “Yes, Peter, that will be fine,” Juliette replied. “Li and I will start together this afternoon.”

  “Good. Then everyone knows what they’re doing,” Francis declared with a short nod.

  Peter, Li, and Anton made their way across the yard to the safe house.

  Anton looked across at Peter and Li, and asked, “What’s a loremaster?”

  “Someone who keeps all the recorded history of the Order of Thoth,” Peter explained. “Juliette is a loremaster, there are only six alive in the world. The Order operates on tradition and precedence. The loremasters know everything there is to know about the Order of Thoth, they keep our traditions alive. They maintain the soul of the Order.”

  “How do they do it?”

  Li grimaced. “By oral history and severe memory training - I think.”

  Peter looked hard at Li. “Yes - there is a lot of hard work involved as I’m sure you will soon find out.”

  Anton nodded. “Li, I’m not surprised they picked you. I’m sure you will do well.”

  Peter laughed, grabbing them around the shoulders and pulled them in with a hug as they walked toward the safe house and enthused, “Yeah, she’ll be great, now let’s get something to eat. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut. Then we can see how many helicopters you can crash before lunchtime.”

  “Helicopters?” Anton asked.

  “Flight Sim - very realistic. I hope that you don’t get airsick.”

  “I should be okay.”

  Peter chuckled. “I’ll make sure that we have a mop and bucket handy, just in case.”

  “Right,” Anton drawled as he followed Peter and Li up the steps and into the safe house.

  The smells of the kitchen reached him in the hallway, and he realized he was absolutely famished.

  Eggs, bacon, toast, mushrooms, tomatoes, and sausages - great.

  * * *

  The classroom was located in the basement of the safe house.

  There was a simple wooden table with a laptop on it in the middle of the room. There was a white pull-down screen, a projector, half a dozen desk chairs, and a pair of dual-sided whiteboards on stands. The whole was lit by soft lights in the ceiling.

  Juliette sat opposite Li, and inquired, “Was there anything worth noticing as you came down here?”

  “There are metal contacts on the door,” Li noted.

  “Indicating?” Juliette asked.

  “There’s a Faraday cage around the room.”

 

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