A Prophecy Forgotten
Chapter Four: Mornachts and Monsters

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Davian led his unit through the Morvenian wilderness, taking care to stay near the shelter of trees. He began to worry as he flew. Aside from a horde of mornachts his unit managed to avoid with ease, the past two days had been uneventful. They had not even seen a vulture in the distance. To Davian that meant one of two things: either the area was extremely remote, or they were less than a day away from trouble, for he rarely ever experienced more than three days of peace in a row on a mission.

Suddenly Davian raised his hand and signaled for his unit to stop. Something—or rather the lack of something—caught his eye. The unit dropped to the ground and waited for further instructions. Davian listened carefully, but heard nothing. He looked across the plain that lay to their right and saw nothing. Absolutely nothing, and that was a problem. No birds flew overhead or sang (although he welcomed the change, for Morvenian birds have singing voices akin to frogs, only louder).

He also did not hear any bloodsuckers, and that was another problem. Bloodsuckers stayed as far away as possible from mornachts for two reasons. First, a mornacht’s blood exploded once it left its body, and too many bloodsuckers had met gruesome deaths after gorging themselves on mornacht only to explode three minutes later. Second, not even bloodsuckers could handle the mornachts’ putrid odor for long periods of time. And right now, Davian did not hear any bloodsuckers. Not one.

He sniffed, checking the air for a hint of sulfur that might indicate the presence of a mornacht. An easy task—had he been in Elysia, for Elysia smelled nothing like mornacht, and a well-trained RSO could smell a mornacht a quarter mile away on a clear, windy day. Morvenia, however, always smelled like mornacht—even without mornachts around. Davian thought he detected an increase of sulfur, but he wanted confirmation. He sniffed again and nodded to Eric, who sniffed and nodded to Marcus, who sniffed and nodded back at Davian. Davian signaled, and the unit low-hovered into the woods and hopped into the boughs of one of the trees where not even a vulture could see them on a clear day.

Not a moment too soon!

A poisonwood arrow narrowly missed Josephi just before he reached his branch. Their situation was more perilous than they thought, for they were deep within uncharted Morvenian territory. Elysia had actually assigned the unit to chart the area, hence their reason for enduring Josephi, the mapper. Davian knew nothing about what lay to his left or right, be it military strongholds or barren wasteland. Although he tried to keep to higher ground, a few hills still blocked his view of the landscape, and tall grass that could conceal a good horde of mornachts filled the plain. Davian also did not know if the mornachts had seen them and recognized them as cherubians, or if they simply thought they were a herd of wild boars.

Therein lay the difficulty in the decision making. Davian preferred to stay undetected—a key to not only his unit’s, but also Elysia’s survival. Elysia had been sending special missions such as these into Morvenia for the past 500 years in hopes of gathering information to help plan an attack. The mornachts, so far, were blissfully ignorant of such missions, and both Davian and Elysia wanted it to stay that way.

Fortunately RSOs were masters of secrecy. Davian’s unit could function without any verbal communication, and Davian, Eric, and Marcus had fought together for so long that they rarely used the detailed RSO signals that took almost a year to learn. Davian nodded to Eric, who had the keenest eyes of the three, and the captain soared along the trunk of the tree until he reached the top. There, hidden amongst the thick branches and leaves, Eric grabbed his spyglass and signaled to Davian.

Nine to the left. Sixteen to the right, thought Davian as he watched Eric’s hands. All infiltrators. He grasped his crossbow. Four more down the middle with six…wolves? Davian waited until Eric stopped signaling and sighed. His unit of five needed to eliminate nineteen infiltrators and six wolves—secretly. A difficult task, especially the secret part. Davian quickly relayed the signals to the others and sent Snead up higher to give him a better shot.

A howl pierced the air—a haunting howl that stood Davian’s feathers on end. Two more followed. Soon, six black wolves bounded toward them, followed by all nineteen mornachts. Eric clasped a sunstar, Snead and Josephi cocked their bows, and Marcus clenched his sword hilts as they waited for Davian’s final command.

Davian waited to signal until the infiltrators and wolves reached the edge of the wood. Snead, Josephi, and Eric fired at the mornachts while Davian and Marcus jumped on top of the wolves with their swords. Davian would have preferred to use his crossbow, but cherubian sunbolts, just like their arrows and sunstars, had crystal tips that sent pulses of concentrated light through the body, killing the tissue instantly.

Light-crystal technology worked fine on mornachts, whose exploding carcasses made forensic study impossible. The wolves did not explode, however, and any mornacht who might stumble across the dead wolves and inspect the wounds would realize that cherubians were in Morvenia. Davian and Marcus, therefore, took care of the wolves (and any unfortunate mornachts who got in their way) using swords and daggers. They found the going tough at first, for Morvenian wolves stood over four feet-tall, and the shortest of them reached Davian’s rib cage. Davian and Marcus kept their backs to each other and slashed away. The wolves’ only weapons were their sharp teeth and claws, and within minutes all six lay dead on the ground along with seven of their masters.

Davian and Marcus flew to help handle the remaining mornachts and found the last one jumping between a few boulders as Eric, Josephi, and Snead shot at it but kept missing. Davian huffed with impatience, pulled out his knife, and settled the matter with a flick of his wrist.

“We’re not done yet!” he growled to the three of them as they gaped at his accurate hurl.

Davian was referring to the trickiest part of their work: hiding the crime, and they needed to work quickly before the mornachts exploded. Eric, Josephi, and Snead piled the mornachts together to disguise the number of dead. (One crater looked less suspicious than nine.) Marcus re-slashed the wolves with the Morvenian swords (which were much more ragged than their own) and spread Morvenian blood around their mouths to make it look as though the wolves had attacked their masters.

Davian dragged the mornacht he had killed with his dagger to the pile, but just before he could throw it in, he squinted at something that gleamed around the mornacht’s neck. He looked closely and saw a small, sleek crystal attached to a chain.

It was a cherubian command crystal.

He yanked it off the mornacht’s neck and put it in his pocket, wondering which officer the mornacht had killed and robbed. He heaved the mornacht into the pile of other mornachts and ducked out of the way just as they exploded. They then set about scanning the area for misfired sunstars and arrows before they left what looked like a wolf attack on one or two mornachts.

As they flew away, Davian thought more about the command crystal. What if the gnome’s drekels and the command crystal were more than just stolen property?

•

The school nurse called Tommy’s mom the minute she saw his crooked nose and swollen wrist. “Your mother is coming right away,” she said to Tommy, who sat on a bench holding a bloody wad of tissues to his nose with his good hand.

Lemon Head’s office door opened, and seven sullen children trooped out. “Please tell me they have to do more than write, ‘I will not fight at recess,’ 100 times,” Gabriella said to Aaron as he passed.

Aaron snickered. “Don’t worry. Ole’ Lemon Head took care of them.”

Gabriella smiled with satisfaction.

“They have to write, ‘I will not fight at recess,’ 300 times.”

Gabriella’s smile disappeared. “At this rate, he’ll have them writing, ‘I will not shoot my semi-automatic at unarmed classmates during lunch hour,’ 500 times by next year!”

“Calm down, warrior. I wasn’t finished. They also have to write Tommy a heartfelt letter of apology and—here’s the kicker—they each have to do twelve hours of cafeteria cleanup with Mr. Wheaton.” Aaron grinned.

The Code prohibited guards from punishing their charges, and they always enjoyed watching them receive a well-deserved comeuppance. Mr. Wheaton was the school custodian, and he approached his job with unusual fervor. He was a retired army sergeant, and he cleaned the school just as though he was still in the service. Gabriella was sure that if she flew to Mr. Wheaton’s house, she could bounce pennies up and down on his bed. Cleaning up the cafeteria with Mr. Wheaton was akin to boot camp. She calmed down, satisfied that Lemon Head had given the grievances brought upon her charge due justice.

Below, the boys joked around and shoved each other as they prepared to return to class—except Ritchie, who concentrated on kicking the nearby chair leg. Ritchie was the runt of Mikey’s litter. He also had dyslexia, and the other boys picked on him, too. Unlike Tommy, Ritchie stooped to whatever level it took to fit in, and the boys abused his willingness as much as possible.

“Well, at least yours looks sorry,” said Gabriella.

Aaron nodded. “Oh, he’s very sorry. In fact, I’ll probably have to spend the rest of the day with him sulking, thank you very much. Would you believe he actually likes Tommy? Unfortunately, he just bends to peer pressure far too often.” He patted Ritchie, whose gaze shifted from his feet to the upper window, on the head. “But we’re working on that, aren’t we, slugger?”

Ritchie sniffled a little and turned his head to hide his embarrassing display of girlishness from the other boys.

Lemon Head’s door opened again, and Mikey walked out, followed by the great sourpuss himself. Gabriella turned to Lemon Head’s guard. “What happened?”

“Two weeks suspension and a month of cafeteria clean up with Mr. Wheaton.”

Aaron and Gabriella exchanged glances.

“Won’t help,” said Aaron. “Not even Mr. Wheaton could knock sense into that one.”

“But that’s still two weeks I won’t have to worry about Tommy getting beat up,” Gabriella said. “Well, except by her,” she added as Lorraine marched into the office.

After raising a huge ruckus with Lemon Head’s administrative assistant about the school’s poor playground controls and disciplinary policies, Lorraine grabbed Tommy by the good arm and half-dragged him to the car. Gabriella floated along behind them. She rolled her eyes as Lorraine mumbled something about always having to leave work to take Tommy to the emergency room—along with a bunch of other mumbo-jumbo Gabriella had already heard countless times.

Lorraine ended her lecture with, “Next time, be more careful,” which infuriated Gabriella. She scrunched in the back seat of Lorraine’s red sports car, and the three of them sped off to the hospital.

At the hospital, Gabriella perched on the back of the waiting room sofa next to Tommy until the nurse called his name. The nurse led them to a private room, where they waited for the doctor. Lorraine plopped down on a chair and grabbed a five-month-old fashion magazine, while Tommy struggled to climb on the hospital bed.

An hour later, Lorraine remained engrossed in the magazine, and Tommy rocked back and forth on the bed trying to see how far he could fall forward without falling off. Suddenly, a commotion outside the door caught their attention.

“Sir, you can’t go back there!” said a voice.

“He’s my son, and I’m going back to see him!” snapped a man.

“I’m sorry, sir, but hospital policy allows only one family member in the emergency room with a patient at a time, and your wife is already in there with him!”

“She’s not my wife, and I really don’t care about your hospital policy!”

The door swung open, and Jim barged in. He stood just a little over six-feet tall, and he still retained most of the muscle he had developed during his Navy SEAL days. Gabriella always thought Jim’s most striking feature was his eyes. They were bright blue, piercing, and alert, and they shone with a special kindness—except when Jim was angry, as he was now.

Zane, Jim’s guard, flew close behind Jim, scolding him for his rude behavior.

“Hey, Zane,” teased Gabriella. “Trouble with the old man?”

“He’s the most stubborn thing I’ve ever seen, save the bottom feeder next to you,” said Zane, nodding at Lorraine.

“Dad!” yelled Tommy. He jumped off the bed and ran over to his father. Jim picked him up and gave him a big hug and their secret handshake. “I’b so glad you’re here.”

“So am I, son.” He gave Tommy another hug. “What happened to you?”

“Ah, it’s a log story. How did you kdow I was here?”

Jim glanced at his ex-wife, who remained engrossed in her magazine.

“Well, Tommy, that’s a very, very good question,” he said. He turned to Lorraine, and his voice revealed a hint of sarcasm. “Dear, isn’t that an interesting question?”

Lorraine turned the magazine page and mumbled, “What are you getting at, Jim?”

“Could I talk with you outside for a minute?” he asked with a picture-perfect smile frozen on his face.

Lorraine huffed and set her magazine down.

Jim set Tommy down.

“We’ll be right back, son,” he said.

Jim’s frozen smile almost cracked as he held the door open for Lorraine. Neither of them saw Tommy and Gabriella peek out the door.

His smile disappeared. “Why didn’t you call me?” he whispered.

“How was I supposed to call you?”

Jim grabbed her purse, retrieved her cell phone, and waved it in her face. “Lorraine, what’s this?”

Lorraine crossed her arms.

“It’s a cell phone, Lorraine! Do you know what people do with cell phones?”

Lorraine rolled her eyes.

“They call people on them! And get this! Cell phones are especially useful during emergencies—like when your kid has to go to the hospital!”

“I had a lot to do!”

“You had a lot to do? Like what? Sit in a hospital emergency room for an hour taking a self-help test on whether or not you’re content? I would never have even found out about this incident if the school nurse hadn’t seen the ‘Please call both parents in case of an emergency’ footnote in Tommy’s file, which I made the principal’s secretary write last time this happened! The time I didn’t find out about the thirty-two stitches until it was my weekend to watch him! Remember that?”

“I was going to tell you about it when you called!”

“Were you? Before or after you invented another stupid reason he couldn’t talk to me?”

“He was being punished last night, and I was going to tell you!”

“Let’s review this again, because obviously I didn’t communicate it properly to you last time.” Jim adopted his best schoolteacher voice. “Tommy is my son, and I want to be informed immediately when he is severely injured. Severely injured includes, but is not limited to, things such as broken bones, high fevers, and trips to the emergency room!”

“Are you finished, yet?”

“He’s my kid, too, Lorraine. I want to be there for him when he needs me, and so far, the only people in this world who have succeeded in keeping me from doing that are you and that piece of pond scum who calls himself an attorney.”

Lorraine glared at Jim and grabbed her cell phone just as the doctor joined them.

“Excuse me, folks, but I’m going to have to ask that one of you go back to the waiting room,” he said.

Both Jim and Lorraine crossed their arms and waited for the other to volunteer.

“I’m his mother. He needs his mother at a time like this.”

“Oh, really?” yelled Zane. “And when did you develop that bit of maternal instinct? Before or after you found out Tommy was worth a car payment a month in child support?” Zane pointed at Lorraine and complained to Gabriella through the open door. “She doesn’t want to be here! Look at her face! Look in her eyes! She’d leave right now except she knows how bad my Jimmy wants to stay!”

Gabriella tried to calm Zane down, and Jim tried to state his own case to the doctor. “I’m his father, and he needs his father at a time like this.”

The doctor began showing his impatience. “Look, I’m going to grab this child’s x-rays. When I return, one of you needs to be out in the waiting room.”

After the doctor left, Jim tried to negotiate a truce with Lorraine. “All right. If I go to the waiting room, can I take Tommy out for hamburgers and ice cream tonight?”

“Jim, it’s a school night. He can’t stay out that late.”

“A school night?” said Zane. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon!”

“It’ll just be an hour,” said Jim.

“Jim, it’s too complicated. No!”

“Too complicated?” said Zane. “Too complicated? It’s only complicated because you don’t want my Jimmy to get any happiness out of life you… you—!”

“Zane!” said Gabriella through the door. “You’re just as bad as the old man!”

Jim crossed his arms. “Lorraine, I haven’t seen my own son in two weeks—!”

“Oh, Jim,” Lorraine said with a sinister smile.

“Oh, no!” Zane said. He motioned for Jim to back away. “It’s the tone! Run, Jimmy! Before she blames you for—”

“You don’t want me to tell the doctor that those bruises on Tommy were from you and not the boys at school, do you?” Lorraine whispered.

“You know I didn’t touch him!”

Lorraine held her phone in Jim’s helpless face. “Go back to the waiting room, Jim, or the next time you see Tommy, you’ll be in a room with a great, big two-way mirror.” She whipped around and sauntered back into the room with Tommy while Jim stood in the hallway, trying to control his trembling fists.

Tommy scrambled back to the hospital bed and glared at his mother. “Dad did dot hurt be, Bobby,” he said.

Lorraine grabbed her magazine and sat down. “Tommy, if you say anything about what you just heard, I’ll tell the court that your dad did hurt you, and they’ll never let you see him again.”

The doctor finally returned. He apologized for the wait and flipped through Tommy’s x-rays. Then he grabbed a torture device disguised as a pair of tongs.

“Hold still for just a minute, son,” he said, and much to the pain and displeasure of little Tommy, the doctor pushed his nose back in place. The doctor declared Tommy’s wrist sprained, wrapped it in a splint, wrote out a prescription for pain, and sent Tommy and his mother on their way.

Jim was waiting for them when they came out. Tommy ran up to him and gave him a hug. “Cad I please get ice-creab with Dad?” he asked his mother.

“No, Tommy. It’s a school night.”

“But, but Bobby!” Tommy latched onto Jim’s leg in a death-grip. “You haved’t let be see dad id two weeks!”

“Tommy!” Lorraine warned.

Tommy turned his pleading black eyes to his father. “But you said we could get ice-creab!”

“We’ll go out for ice cream when you come over next week, son,” Jim said helplessly. Gabriella knew every word pained him. “Besides, you need to rest that arm.”

Tommy frowned. He released his father’s leg and gave him one last hug. Then he turned to his mother and said, “I hate you.”

Every guard in the waiting room gasped and stared at Tommy to see if he really meant it or if he said it for effect. Gabriella watched Tommy with alarm. Hatred was the first step toward hardening, and she knew Tommy rarely said anything for effect. She looked at the other guards, who stared at her accusingly.

“But she’s hard!” Gabriella said pointing at Lorraine. “She’s an evil, hard, awful woman, and—and—I hate her, too!”

“Me, too!” added Zane.

Gabriella turned back to Tommy, who continued to glare at Lorraine without remorse. “Please take it back, big guy. Please.”

Lorraine lifted her hand to slap Tommy across the face.

Jim grabbed her wrist just in time. “You deserve it,” he said in a low voice.

“Come on, Jimmy! Let her go!” said Zane. He wrapped arms around Jim in a bear hug. “Let her go. She’ll just take you to court again. Come on, Jimmy! You ever want Tommy to live with you again? Let her go.”

To Zane’s relief, Jim released Lorraine’s wrist. He leaned forward and whispered, “I hope, to all good heaven, that those bruises I see on him really are from the kids at school and not from you, or there will be hell to pay.”

Zane sent Gabriella a questioning glance.

Gabriella lowered her eyes. “I can’t stop her, Zane, and she doesn’t have a guard who can talk sense in her ear. I can only absorb most of the pain if she uses a paddle or a belt or that stupid spoon, but she usually doesn’t take time to get those.”

Zane glared at Lorraine. “Jimmy needs a better lawyer.”

Lorraine narrowed her eyes. “Don’t accuse me of stuff like that, Jim. Last time I checked, you were the one with the temper.” She grabbed Tommy’s good hand and yanked him toward the door.

“He’s got the temper?” Zane yelled. “He’s got the temper? She says that like she’s the icon of calm rationality!”

Gabriella followed Tommy and whispered in his ear about how he did not hate his mother and how hating someone was wrong. “You just don’t like the things she does. It’s okay not to like those things.”

Once they piled inside the car, Gabriella watched Jim trudge back to his truck. He slid in the front seat and started punching the steering wheel multiple times. She saw Zane sitting in the passenger seat offering unheard words of comfort to his charge as his ex-wife drove his son away and out of his life for another week.

Unfortunately, the court only allowed Jim to see his son every third weekend and holidays. Tommy often asked his parents why he could not see his father more often. His father would only say that the courts felt that children should stay with their mothers, and his mother changed the subject. Gabriella knew better. Lorraine had simply retained the better lawyer. She also knew that Lorraine insisted on keeping Tommy out of spite and enjoyed her child support more than she enjoyed her son.

Gabriella remembered the divorce vividly. She remembered Zane telling her how much money Jim shelled out to his lawyer, begging him to try every loophole so he could keep Tommy. She remembered the weight Jim lost during the ordeal, as well as the forlorn look in his eyes when the judge awarded Lorraine custody.

Gabriella also had other memories. She remembered Lorraine’s guard’s delight when Elysia reassigned him. She remembered Lorraine threatening Jim with other false charges of child abuse and her sinister laugh when she talked on the phone with her lawyer. Gabriella remembered cringing with anger when she realized that Lorraine enjoyed tearing her ex-husband apart.

Tommy often asked his parents why they separated. His mom would make some sneering remark about his father. His father would tell him that sometimes things just don’t work out. Gabriella knew the truth. Tommy’s dad was a nice guy who married a woman with the heart of a saber. She left him for another man five boyfriends ago. Gabriella was not sure how long the current boyfriend, Joe, would last but she and Zane had placed bets on two more months.

•

That evening, Lorraine tucked Tommy into bed. “Go to sleep,” she said. Then, as if she sensed her son’s anger, she bent down and kissed Tommy’s forehead. Her affection came too late. Tommy turned his head away and refused to speak.

“Is that anyway to treat your mother, Tommy?”

Tommy said nothing, so Gabriella filled in for him. “What did you expect, Lorraine? Hugs and kisses?”

“Tommy, I’m talking to you.”

Tommy again said nothing.

“Yeah, and this is the first time you’ve actually talked to him without a lecture,” Gabriella added.

“Fine, be that way.” Lorraine said. She spun around and trounced out.

Gabriella followed her. “You’re destroying your own son, and you don’t even care, do you?” she yelled as Lorraine walked down the hall. “Just as long as you get your child support every month! And why haven’t you broken up with Joe, yet? He’s not even half the man Jim is!” Gabriella stopped once Lorraine turned the corner. She turned around and flew back to Tommy.

“Sorry for yelling at your mom like that, big guy, but I’m about to lose twenty drekels—to Zane of all cherubians—because your mother refuses to break up with that Joe!” Gabriella sighed. “Zane’s right. Joe’s rich, and your mother has a thing for money.”

Gabriella stopped her soliloquy long enough to look down and notice that her charge was crying. “There, there now,” she said. “Don’t cry, big guy.” She flew over and sat on the bed next to Tommy.

“Dobody will ever like be,” Tommy said to himself. “I’b just Tidy Tobby Cry Baby.”

“No you’re not! Don’t say that! I like you. Your dad adores you!”

Gabriella watched Tommy as he continued to cry. Then she crawled under the covers with him and cradled the sobbing child in her arms. “You, Tommy, are a wonderful, special child, and I love you.” She kissed his forehead and held him against her chest. At that moment, Gabriella felt Tommy’s body stop quivering. His tears subsided, and he fell asleep.

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Copyright © 2006 M. B. Weston. All rights reserved.
Revised: 02/06/09