Daughters of Thunder by Evangheline C Farcas (i like reading books .txt) 📖

crushed. He sprang to the right, it was an ascending path. Not necessarily a wise choice, but he knew where it lead, if he could get there, he would be safe.


　


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Within the hour the local channel sere reporting the bizarre events of the mountains. Rumors of haunting. Wild stories. Footage from the store's cheap surveillance cameras kept repeating as if on an endless loop. Caleb saw Rachel's face, her glowing eyes as if lightning originated in them. He saw her commanding the skies as if they had always been meant to do her bidding. Radiana was running after a man who apparently was running in terror. It was the very same one they had suspected of taking them, and his daughter was running after him-not away. But in seconds she had reappeared, now both of the sisters sped away up the winding road. The unnatural events baffled the media, the police-everyone. But what really got them scratching their heads was the fact that the captives were now chasing their captor.


"These young women, John, are apparently armed and dangerous. Though prior to this night's events we had been on the look out for Accalon Bridges, age thrity-now John it seems the police department here, fear for his life." The voices droned on and on.


Caleb had to leave now, Yonah would know where to come. He sprang for the door, but when he opened it he let out a sharp gasp. It couldn't be.


-Chapter 8-

His face hadn’t aged, not any part of him had aged, not in the normal way. His face was that of an innocent child with brilliant emerald eyes, full of life. Caleb looked into them and felt as though he had stepped through a rainforest-vibrant and alive. For an eternity he was fairly certain he had fallen through time. A gentle summer breeze swept through the boy’s hair reflecting the brilliance of the sun itself. Frozen, he couldn’t utter a single word. Dozens of emotion were flooding him. A sob escaped from his lips. Each tear that escaped the confines of his eyes reflected remorse, relief, joy, love…fear.
“Hello, Uncle.”
Still, words refused to form. If he would open his mouth, his words would be a mangled mess. He gestured as if in a daze for the boy to enter. The wooden floor of the cabin uttered no protest under the child’s feet; it was as if he had simply glided in along with the breeze. He stopped beside the fireplace, thoughtfully examining the ashes.
“Sol, I- that is, your father he-,” Caleb began, stumbling clumsily on each word.
Sol lifted a hand and Caleb ceased speaking. Sol turned his attention away from the ashes. Curiously, silently he walked full circle around Caleb. He stopped in front of him; looking up to meet his eyes he gingerly reached and touched his face in wonder. The touch was so much more then just a touch.
“Sol, we searched. I promise you we did! We prayed, wh-.”
An electrifying touch to his lips silenced him. It felt like burning coals. But there was no pain, only warmth.
“Shhh.”
Again Sol looked around. It was as if he was hoping to see someone else. Of course, thought Caleb, he wants his father. Sol’s eyes flickered.
“Yes, Uncle, I want to see him.”
All Caleb could do was nod, shock sending irrational fear through him.
“My father will be here soon. I can feel him.”
Caleb nodded again. He suddenly didn’t know if this was good or bad. All this time he had been sure Sol was lost, both to the world, and to all that was good.
“When my Father comes, you will understand.” Each word was pronounced with deliberate emphasis, as if words were foreign to him, even perhaps painful. Hi voice was still as that of a child, but it came in a whisper.
“We tried to find you Sol, we prayed and prayed!” Caleb explained, he had to make him understand how they had never forgotten him. He had to explain how year after year they returned to the spot where they had forever lost him.
“Shhh,” was Sol’s response as he pointed to the leather couch. Caleb took a seat on the overstuffed cushions. So they waited, looking out the window, as if the view could give them answers. The silence stretched on as the sun continued to rise on the horizon, like a triumphant king.


They were forced to stop. The couldn’t go on for the sun had made its dreadful appearance again. They were its prisoners for the next few hours. Though Accalon had escaped, they remained eerily calm, biding their time. He would be found. But now they rested in an empty, long abandoned barn.
Muscles ached from their fruitless hunt, but sleep eluded them.
Rachel smiled savagely. Radiana arched her eyebrows quizzically.
“He’s one of us, you know.” She said matter-of-factly.
“Huh?”
“Yes, for sure, Accalon is like us, but weaker.” Rachel continued to herself.
Radiana shook her head. “It’s not possible, the light doesn’t hurt him.”
Frustrated, Rachel kicked at the hay covering the floor. Yes, indeed there was that little flaw in her theory.
“It may be sister, that he is actually stronger then us.” Radiana ventured.
“I wonder…”she whispered as she continued pacing, carefully avoiding any patch of light streaming through the barn, “if there are more like us?”
“There are many more of you.”
Both sisters jumped, instantly locking hands together in fear.
Out of the shadows stepped an enormous man. His muscles looked as if they would snap the buttons off his clean-cut black suit. His eyes were the color of honey. They seemed to glow as he passed nonchalantly through the patches of light streaming through the windows.
“Who are you?” Radiana stammered.
The man just walked past her. He reached her sister in two long strides. He stroked her face and Rachel didn’t even flinch or try to move away. Her eyes locked with his, mesmerized by the sweet honey color. Once their eyes locked, her eyes responded with lightning reflecting them.
“Wh-,” he turned to her abruptly silencing her. Shock cascaded through her with the intensity of a waterfall, a waterfall that she was trapped beneath. Slowly though, the waterfall felt more like a gentle rain. Images took shape, enveloping her mind.
She saw her father, accusation brimming in his eyes. “You are evil.” He accused. Words like: abomination, disgrace, fallen, unredeemable, damned resounded like a gong in her mind.
The man blinked, the images ceased.
“You see how they envy your power.” He said.
Breathless, the sisters gave no response.
“And He,” he continued as he pointed up, “He would damn you for wanting this power to defend and protect yourselves.”
All was lost for them in that moment, as hopelessness engulfed them. It sunk in that they had no one, and loneliness of that fact was terrifying.
“But I do not condemn you.” He said as he pulled them into an embrace. They allowed themselves to be held. He felt like a safe, like a tower they could take refuge in.
“Who are you?” Rachel whispered as she chocked back another uncontrollable sob.
“Your guide, Lucian.”
“Guide?” They asked as if in a trance.
“Yes sweethearts, and I promise to never, ever let go of you.”

-Chapter 9-


　


It had been easy to hate in the beginning, in those early years when everything had been stripped from him. God had taken it all-everything-so long ago. But now, now he didn't know. Had he? Was there something left that had not been taken? Trudging through the forest exhaustion threatened to incapacitate him, his legs felt numb as he continued his upward trek. And was it God who had stripped him bare? He further contemplated.


Her eyes had been the color of honey, her heart had been just as sweet and their daughter had been the miracle that shouldn't have been. His Zemirah, she had been the sweet melody in his life that had brought another melody, a sweet baby that had filled their daily life with melodious laughter. Now they were no more, and all his wealth was obsolete. At first he had been numb, reeling from shock. But then the seed of hate was quickly planted, watered and tended. He had found him when he was on the run from that grizzly night, just as he was on the run now. How very ironic, he thought. But before this endless running had begun he had first tasted the fruit of power and knowledge that he had never imagined before. He liked it. But now he had to wonder, what would she have thought? It had been ages since memories such as these had dared to plague him. The worst by far was the memory of never finding his daughters body, for surely there would be a body. Bitterness engulfed him at the thought, power sizzled through him. But he was tired of it, what was the point of it? It didn't bring them back. It only brought him back, over and over again, always young, always charming, always alive...he never stayed dead. His image was frozen in time, though thirty years had gone by. Shulamit had been only a year, on that night Zemirah and Accalon had been graced to see her first proud but wavering steps. She had been such a tranquil child as her name proclaimed.


What would she have been like had she lived? Those eyes of hers, even at that young age had an all knowing look about them. Violet in just the right lighting. Yes, He had taken it all, but He was paying, for Accalon had been a busy man ever since-snatching away His precious children.


He stumbled and fell, his mind was not paying attention to his footing it seemed. His already torn jeans tore further on the knife sharp rocks. He let out a string of curses. The sun's merciless rays stalled his healing process and he cursed it too while looking up resentfully at it, as if he could strike it down from the lofty peaceful sky. It bothered him that he could no longer shield himself from the light, he began to feel discarded.


The sound of crunching leaves startled him out of his bitter thoughts. He scrambled to hide. What was left of his heart was pounding. It could be them, he thought, perhaps they had learned to endure the sun. If it was them, it would be bad, but he feared another even more.


The crunching leaves sounded like someone loudly crunching away at cereal. As suddenly as the sound had started it ceased. Birds resumed their rudely interrupted songs for the moment, but only for a moment as it began again, then stopped again, then resumed once more. Accalon held his breath and prayed that whoever it was would pass. Of course he knew exactly who it was, and the fact that he prayed startled him even more then the fear that cascaded through him. In those moments Zemirah's prayer came to mind. His wife had always whispered it, and in the last moments of her life she had even shouted it, 'Save us LORD, hide us in the shadow of Your wings.' But it had done her