Xinder Rises Read online

  Xinder Rises

  Book One “A Tale of Dust and Dreams.”

  JJ Hawken

  JERICO PRESS

  Contents

  1. Danny, Wednesday

  Luna

  Danny

  Guda

  Danny

  Wynn-Garry

  Guda

  2. Fitzpatrick, Wednesday

  Danny

  Guda

  Wynn-Garry

  Xinder

  Sas

  Ryan

  Fitzpatrick

  3. Xinder, Wednesday

  Olivia

  Fitzpatrick

  Luna

  Danny

  4. Olivia, Wednesday

  Anika

  Sap

  5. Luna, Thursday

  Sas

  Mrs Puddy

  Guda

  Danny

  6. Wynn-Garry, Thursday

  Xinder

  Sola

  Xinder

  7. Danny, Thursday

  Anika

  Xinder

  Olivia

  Sap

  8. Danny, Thursday

  Luna

  Danny

  Fitzpatrick

  Sola

  Fitzpatrick

  Danny

  Olivia

  Fitzpatrick

  Wynn-Garry

  Fitzpatrick

  9. Sas, Thursday

  Fitzpatrick

  Olivia

  Fitzpatrick

  Danny

  10. Sas, Thursday

  Danny

  Wynn-Garry

  Xinder

  Olivia

  Danny

  Sas

  Danny

  Anika

  Ryan

  Danny

  11. Ryan, Thursday

  Xinder

  Sap

  Fitzpatrick

  12. Danny, Thursday

  Anika

  Wynn-Garry

  Ryan

  Anika

  Ryan

  13. Sola, Thursday

  Sap

  Olivia

  Xinder

  14. Anika, Thursday

  Mrs Puddy

  Sas

  Danny

  Sap

  Anika

  Danny

  15. Sap, Thursday

  Olivia

  Ryan

  Xinder

  Olivia

  Sap

  Xinder

  Anika

  Olivia

  16. Sap, Thursday

  Danny

  Wynn-Garry

  Olivia

  Fitzpatrick

  Sap

  Sola

  Sap

  Danny

  Sas

  17. Mrs Puddy, Thursday

  Sap

  18. Sas, Friday

  Fitzpatrick

  Sap

  Danny

  Untitled

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by JJ Hawken

  1

  Danny, Wednesday

  Danny’s cupped hands cascaded cold water onto his face, the shock waking him. Wincing, he touched the mark, the nerve endings raw and fleshy. A quarter of an inch, perhaps, and as neat as a red underline.

  The blade!

  Memories rushed in. Danny stared at the rouge on his fingers, then rubbed till it cleared.

  It can’t be. His initial reaction.

  How come? His second.

  Danny crashed into the wall, then righted himself and spewed up into the toilet.

  Why? Why me?

  He heard the others downstairs, but their words died before his brain could register what they said. He tried to speak, but the sounds reverberated back, spiralling as though he were in a tunnel.

  In the kitchen, the sink and table spun around the room, along with the outline of his sisters and Mrs Puddy.

  Tinkling of glass? Raised voices?

  Grabbing a jacket, he weaved his way to the door. He needed to breathe, to clear his head. He needed to run.

  Luna

  Luna uncurled in a flash from her own fiery, electric blue midriff. She stood up on two long, thread-like, spidery legs and watched through large, ovate black eyes as a soft wind whipped dust across the desolate plain.

  She sniffed at the stale air as she remembered how, long ago, grasses, trees, and beasts filled the pink, green, and ochre-coloured landscapes of the planet of Genartus. Carpeted in spiders, this area of Genartus was once known as the arachnid lands. A vast swathe of mixed terrains filled with different varieties of spiders.

  Luna was an Animais; human-like in form but an alien creature, with a delicate, smoky silvery-grey outline that melted into the atmosphere around her. Animais had harvested spider webs in these lands. Dream powders had been made from these webs, from which pleasant dreams of love, kindness, and inventiveness were crafted for all living things.

  These lands had been hostile to most and were rarely visited by other animals. But, the lands had been bountiful to Animais and beneficial to everyone, especially humans.

  On this exact spot, an area had once been cleared and a tall, open-roofed structure had been hastily constructed. Its outer perimeter was like a giant wooden palisade, and from afar it looked liked a fortress. Its walls were high enough, and thick enough, to shield it from the lurking eyes and ears of even the tallest and craftiest of beasts.

  A circular table made from the trunk of a pink-wooded mammoth tree filled the middle. Luna remembered how the Council of One Hundred had debated the fate of the worlds. The Council were remembered now by a huge stone that reached high into the air.

  Like many young Animais, Luna had sat in the sky above the Council, invisible to all except other Animais. Nestled on the rim of her mother's own electrical midriff, known to Animais as an “infiniti”, Luna had bathed in the warm blue currents that splayed over her and watched events unfold. The humans and animals and trees argued and raged before finally putting their differences to rest and plan for a new time.

  Luna recalled the desperate faces of the Founders of Genartus as they heard the charges against them. Tears had rolled down their cheeks as they accepted their punishment. These five, four men and a lady, forged in birth from the collision of sand and water and gas at the very beginning. Moulded by the irresistible energies of the universe.

  The Founders had yearned for forgiveness from the Council, demanding the end of divination and begging to seek out a way of destroying their immortality. They did not seek pity, just atonement for their part in the destruction, Luna remembered. The punishments were accepted; all bar one.

  That man was Xinder, from the planet of Halaria. Xinder, who threatened to freeze every human on Halaria if he was burned. Xinder, whose light blue eyes exuded a dark, menacing power, a magic beyond that of others. Xinder, who felt his fate did not justify his actions.

  Luna uncurled a long finger, turning the tip into a needle and then into a pincer before dipping it into her fizzling infiniti, feeling the soothing mass of energy within.

  The old memories were returning.

  Xinder had delivered on his promise. The moment flames had licked at his flesh, his spell cast all Halarian people into domed, crystal-like puddles. Frozen, they still wait for his return. But, devoid of form and starved of magic, he had never been able to turn the Halarians back. Now, he was known as the Frozen Lord.

  Luna had watched him from a distance many times, roaming his palace as a burnt spirit. Always looking, never giving up his futile search to find and restore his magic. A desperate hope burned from within his spirit-shell, although, as millennia after millennia wore on, she’d felt his vibrations move to anger and frustration.

  Luna glided through the air like a ghost,
her limbs pushing, her body floating on particles of air. She reached the top of the great stone and looked out over the wastelands.

  Strange, she thought, how events had turned out. The world of Genartus in front of her was now devoid of life, while Halaria, not even visible as a pinprick in the sky, was starved of people. All the while, Earth had trudged on, oblivious to wars and the planets they had yet to discover.

  Perhaps for this reason, Animais had become deeply associated with Earth. Nothing thrilled Luna more than to sneak away and watch humans dream. It thrilled her to see how they twisted and reacted, how the powders supplied them with hope and creativity, and filled their world with meaning.

  And, now, as if out of the blue, the mysterious energies of the universe had awoken.

  Luna held her long, old, wiry arms out into the sky, feeling for vibrations. Trying to see if she could find answers. But there was no use in denying these forces, these changes. The inscription on the rock beside her had the instructions.

  The fate of Animais, the destiny of animals, plant life, and every being on Earth was now in the hands and minds of three humans under the protection of Mazeen the Great, the elder of the Founders. The three humans would be the ones to demonstrate the success of the current human race. Or the entire human race would fall.

  The moment Luna gave these three humans the First Dream, the greatest dream in existence, they would be named as the Sacrum and have seven days to fulfil their tasks.

  Danny

  Danny ran across the courtyard to the track and cut down towards the river. He hurtled along animal tracks, weaved through long grass, leapt over fallen branches, jumped foxholes, and untangled brambles from his clothes as he ducked, crashed, and sped through thickets and bushes.

  In the semi-darkness beneath a rusty canopy, he came to a huge grey boulder three times his height. In his mind’s eye, he measured the distance and set off at a sprint. At the last moment, he sprang up and grasped hold of a stony outcrop just high enough to haul him to the top. He sat down and reached into his bag, drank from his water bottle, and swirled the liquid round his mouth.

  Breathing hard, his heart thumping in his chest, Danny watched as the sun rose, the view like burning coals smouldering under the base of the vast black cloud jettisoned above.

  It had happened, it had really happened, he thought, fingering the tiny nick on his chin. Why else would such a neat laceration be there? He recalled the moment, as clearly as he could remember.

  He’d been told he had to do something horrific, beyond imagination.

  But why him, of all people?

  He stared out over the valley, his eyes drawn to the candy shapes in the village of Sutton perched above the floodplain at the foot of the moors. He noted the rugged, menacing, dark forest and jagged rocks that jutted out of the steep slopes like gnarled, angry faces. In contrast, the manicured, cartoon-coloured, light and dark green stripes of the school playing fields lay on the valley floor.

  Man’s doing down below, he thought. God’s above.

  So many questions crowded his brain.

  What if he didn’t survive? What if he didn’t find this stupid cave?

  That was unclear, but the ghost said it would be back and that’s all he remembered from last night. It didn’t mention a time, or a place, only that it would be back.

  Danny cast his eye over the large weeping willows that marked the position of the meandering river, and guarded the village like sentries positioned at perfect intervals. Sutton looked stronger, and more important, than the old, monastic-looking school whose high, square tower rose high into the sky. It was, he thought, a perfect contrast to the river curving elegantly in front.

  In the distance, the soaring cliffs of the moorlands protected the village like a shield. He could see how Sutton had fostered a sense of security with its toffee-coloured chunks of masonry and loophole arrow slit holes. Balancing this were subtle lines of symmetry; the intricate round, rose window pixelated with stained glass resting above a weighty, carved oak door.

  Right now, Danny thought, he needed a shield of his own. But where would that come from?

  Alert to the sound of a twig snapping in the undergrowth he glanced behind him. Then, he glanced to his right towards the sheer rock face that climbed high into the sky.

  No eagles. No hawks or harriers circling or soaring like model aircraft.

  He listened.

  Strange.

  An almost intolerable silence.

  He flicked his wrist, glanced at the dial and sighed.

  If he didn’t hurry, he’d be late – again.

  Standing up on the boulder he stretched his arms wide, orb-like, before sliding down the stone curvature and tumbling over and over until he collided with the trunk of a larch.

  Danny brushed himself down, feeling a multitude of soon-to-be bruises birthing in the tissue under his skin.

  Recklessly, he weaved a fresh path through the undergrowth towards the silver band of the river that cut through the red and yellow apron of autumn leaves.

  Guda

  Guda sat alone, floating in space watching planet Earth spinning, as it always did.

  Every so often a tiny burst of light, invisible to any other creature flashed for a nano second. He mused that he was not the only Animais taking time from their relentless dream-giving to reflect upon the fate that bore heavily upon them. Luna had told them the news.

  Guda noted Earth’s moon rising in the near distance against the endless expanse of space. Twisting, as if his leg were made of rubber, he dabbled it in his infiniti, feeling the warmth from the blue electrical field in his middle. He wondered if there was still a need for inspirational, magical dreams; dreams that gave insight, dreams that inspired change, or dreams that elicited love and joy?

  Guda cranked his small, round head, and stared at a distant star, as he replaced one leg in his infiniti with the other.

  If dreams became nothing more than nightmares, at least the Animais would still exist to give them out, wouldn’t they? Their sole purpose as dream-givers could not end simply because there were no longer any joyful dreams. So long as any dream could be given, from any powder blended from a spider’s web, surely the Animais would continue to have a purpose?

  This, he realised was the choice.

  He thought of the boy. The boy who knew nothing.

  What had fate in mind for him, and for his sisters? Immediate death?

  Mazeen had failed in his task to nurture and train the Sacrum, if indeed these children were the Sacrum. Even Luna could tell Mazeen was no longer the man he once was. The old man’s once sharp mind was but a shadow. Earth had drowned him in a wallowing pool of denial and apathy.

  Luna had seen the words on the great stone and they could not be twisted. They were as clear to her as space was black.

  He’d tried to explain. He’d tried to show her that it must be a mistake but Luna would not listen. She swept aside the doubters.

  He’d visited the stone to see the words for himself. The message was just as Luna said:

  The three Sacrum of the human race live under the protection of Mazeen the Great on Earth.

  They alone must receive the First Dream.

  But surely there must be others? Was Mazeen in the wrong place?

  Guda noticed a pinprick of yellow light coming from a spot on the Moon’s dark surface. It was an energy flash, signalling the birth of an Animais, hatched from a cocoon in caverns of moons around the universe. More Animais, to nurture, guide, and instruct in the art of dream-giving. Ever more Animais were needed to keep up with the booming population of humans on Earth.

  It made him reflect on what Luna had told them. Three children as Sacrum, selected to represent mankind’s dominance of life on Earth, she’d said. With seven earth days to fulfil a series of tasks. Absurd.

  It would take them seven years, not seven days. If they didn’t die at the first hurdle.

  If they were the measure of life on the planet, then perha
ps Earth deserved its outcome.