Alexander had no time to revel in the wonder of being in two places at once. He could still sense his body down there in the depths of the pyramid, could still feel the others all around him: his father’s eyes especially, concerned and more than a bit bewildered. He could only imagine what Dad was feeling now, coming back after whatever was through that breach; he wanted to help, wanted to heal, wanted to take Aria in his arms and keep her safe and build something together with her, more than anything. But right now, so much stood in the way. The end of everything as he knew it, if they couldn’t get out of here.
And he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Jacob, despite their history, their rivalry.
Alexander could save him.
And did.
This soldier was his to command, and for just a moment he pictured himself back in the lighthouse basement, playing with army men and tanks and toys, waging epic battles; victory turning on the actions of a lone hero that he, Alexander, controlled.
Just as he controlled this one.
Bearing down on the helpless, bullet-riddled Snow-Cat and the boy trying to get out and aim his gun, Alexander took control, gently, and eased the man’s weight slightly to the left, then banked hard.
Sorry.
He didn’t know this man, didn’t know if he had a family, if he was here against his will or was just a stone-cold mercenary, but he decided he’d go with the last option, and as the snowmobile flipped sideways, over and over, throwing the rider, Alexander stayed with him and endured the pain of broken bones and jarring impacts, just to see the aftermath — as the other vehicles came careening around the bend and collided with the sled or tried to avoid it. Two crashed into the mountainside, one tried to swerve and stay on the trail but slid over the edge and tumbled violently to the base. The last, a larger Snow-Cat, came to a halt before the pileup of three wrecked snowmobiles. Two men got out, but Alexander, groaning in pain and lying on the ice inside the dying man’s mind, had seen enough.
“I’m out,” he said, and opened his eyes down below, gasping and holding his ribs, still feeling the shadow pain. He fell back, into his father’s arms as Aria came closer, eyes wide.
“I saw the crash…”
He nodded. “Not super proud of that, but…”
“You should be,” Nina said from behind him. “How many left?”
“Four or five,” Aria said, holding her temple.
“Manageable.”
Nina cocked the magazine, was about to head up the ramp when she paused, looked back and aimed. Caleb ducked reflexively, and Orlando shoved Phoebe and the twins out of the way.
Gunfire sprayed in six precise bursts as Nina aimed and shifted her arm. Six times, stopping at last for a breath, and to ask once more. “Is it ok to kill these bastards now?”
One last burst, and Raiden’s body jerked with the impact of five rounds right into his chest.
“No objections?”
She nodded in satisfaction, then wheeled on her heels and started up the ramp.
Aria groaned and dropped to a knee. “Wait!”
“What?”
Aria shook her head, and as Alexander knelt beside her and tried to comfort her, she looked up, taking deep breaths. “Something’s changed. I don’t feel it anymore.”
“Feel what?”
“Anything. The sensations, the field of psychic-whatever, it’s like it’s gone.”
Her eyes blinked rapidly, scanning everyone around her. “The shield…”
“…is down,” said another voice. A familiar but quite out of place voice that made Alexander jump in shock.
He turned, with the others, and saw the impossible.
Xavier Montross was standing there, over the body of Raiden.
“We succeeded,” he said calmly, although he seemed to be struggling to maintain his standing. He shimmered slightly in a holographic-like form.
“You’re projecting,” Nina said.
His smile for her was short-lived. He seemed in pain.
“You’re still seeing something… horrible,” Orlando said, and then nodded. “The comet is still heading toward us. Armageddon still keeping our date.”
Xavier shook his head, hand up. “Yes, but…” Then he mumbled something inaudible.
Footsteps coming, rounding the bend…
Jacob, carrying along a wounded Edgerrin. Out of breath, but strong and looking triumphant, he only slowed when he saw his mother — and then Alexander.
Specifically, the gem around his neck. Green light danced in Jacob’s eyes.
The hologram flickered. “Can’t keep this up, but it’s something… that threatens everything. Happens in the next few minutes if you don’t stop it.”
Alexander’s hand went to his neck, to the gem, and it trembled in his fingers. “What?”
Xavier groaned and held his head. Getting a vision back wherever he was.
“Are you seeing your death again?” Caleb asked, shaking off more of his cobwebs, and stepping towards the apparition.
“Yes,” Xavier whispered, fading. “And everyone’s. I…” His eyes flashed to Jacob, then to Nina.
And before he disappeared, he said one word, as loud as he could — which sounded like it originated a thousand miles away.
And sounded like: “Isildur.”
Caleb had a flash of insight. Of memory maybe, fading and drying like drops on a windshield. He had seen one of a possible infinite set of futures. One here with someone all in black striding over a mountain of corpses amidst a burning world. It hadn’t meant anything in that other place, the one at the time which seemed far more real than this menagerie. But he recalled the glow of something around a hooded man’s neck as he wielded power over armies and sent them clashing against each other on land, in the sea and the skies.
“Caleb…” Orlando’s voice. “You know, I think he said ‘Isildur.’”
“Yeah,” Aria said. “What the hell is that?”
“I know what it is,” Caleb said — at the same time Alexander did.
Phoebe coughed and looked around at the others. “Wait, tell me it’s not a Lord of the Rings reference.”
“That’s my girl,” Orlando said proudly, smiling at Phoebe. “The human warrior who had a chance to destroy the ring of power, but instead kept it himself and let its power corrupt him until it ultimately found its way back to the Dark Lord and threatened all life on Middle-Earth.”
Jacob and Nina helped Edgerrin down comfortably, and as she looked back up, waiting for the reinforcements to come, Jacob stepped toward Alexander.
“What are you looking at?” Alexander asked, taking a step back.
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Caleb said, stepping in front of Alexander. “The future isn’t written in stone. Who we become is up to us, based on the temptations offered and the choices we make. But today, right here and right now, we have a chance to end it. Before any such temptation.”
Again, the image of the hooded avatar of death and destruction rose in his mind.
“Then end it,” Orlando said.
Alexander met his father’s look, pulling his glance away from the jealous, deeply hungry gaze in Jacob’s eyes. “End it,” he echoed.
And in one quick motion, Caleb reached out, snatched the gem, and ripped it from Alexander’s neck. Took one step, and without a thought, just keeping his mind empty, tunneling through the conflagration of memories, visions and the flood of data he couldn’t quite shake or see in more focus, he threw it—
— directly into the rift.
“No!” Jacob yelled.
“Caleb!” Nina shouted. “We needed that, it could—”
But then the stone struck the energy of the negative space-quantum otherness on the other side. An eruption of force and pressure shook the interior of the cavern, but most of the energy seemed contained. Or perhaps it was implosion, but whatever it was, the rift turned a violent shade of green, seething and pulsing brighter and brighter — and then the tear latched itself, sewing up and over as if invisible strands bound it tighter and tighter, stretching the fabric of reality on this side and…