56

Flight of the Living Dead

Deilune knew things were going from bad to worse. And things had started very badly earlier in the day on the trail when he’d charged at Beilla and Abzeig for threatening Linda. Abzieg had simply raised a gun to Linda's head, and Deilune knew that Beilla could easily give the order to kill them both—again.

It galled him to be at the mercy of Beilla who’d robbed them of their lives once before. If it’d just been him alone, he would've tested the power of the Kareima to protect him from Beilla’s madness. But there was Linda. And Nick and Lottica. And his parents. As reckless as he felt with his own life, a second life, he did not feel he could gamble the rest of his family away.

After being marched back to Breima Manor and Beilla finding no one else at home, they were blindfolded and driven on a winding road for about an hour. From that point, Deilune and Linda had spent most of the afternoon bound and gagged, watching Beilla and Abzeig's work on an older single-engined plane parked on the edge of a secluded meadow serving as their airstrip.

Deilune forced himself to stay vigilant for clues that might reveal their intentions. All Beilla had told them was that they were going to help him recover the Astreima. More madness. But Deilune had heard them mention Mount Breima more than once, so he kept alert for any opportunity to act.

He got his chance in the small airplane shortly after take off that evening. He and Linda had been untied. Beilla seated Deilune next to him. Behind him, Abzeig sat, a gun loose in his thuggish hands. Linda who bravely was keeping her emotions in check was seated to Abzeig’s left.

As they began to cross the darkened countryside, Beilla became effusive, almost jovial. "You see, Deilune, we possess the gems responsible for creating all that is beneath us.” He motioned to the Fareima around his neck and to Deilune’s chest. “Once we possess the Astreima, and the Tireima is reconstituted, then Lebreima will know its former greatness. No more will we be in darkness and obscurity. We will not be a slavish commonwealth or a petty semi-autonomous region. We will reclaim our destiny."

"And what is that?" Deilune asked, trying to draw Beilla out to better grasp his delusional plans.

"To make the world as le Breima intended it. For Lebreimans."

"Just Lebreimans? That's going to make the rest of the world rather unhappy."

"That is not to worry. They will feel nothing. The great burning of the Feirengahst will be instantaneous and complete."

"You really believe those old legends?"

Beilla laughed. "Deilune, you are evidence that the legends are the only truth. You are more Kareima than Breima now."

"What makes you think I’ll help you in any way?"

In answer, Beilla reached under his seat and pulled out a thickly padded manila envelope. "You know the stories of the Pleisahd, the missing piece. I did not waste my time while I worked for that fool, Weirhamatt. I used your family’s library to locate the missing piece. And Abzeig used his unique skills to obtain it." He handed the envelope to Deilune. "See for yourself."

Even in the eerie light of the aircraft's cabin, Deilune knew what the envelope held. He‘d spent many afternoons as a child in the Breima library puzzling over the mystery of the missing piece, the single pane of stained glass stolen centuries ago from the library’s massive window.

Gently, he pulled out the bubble-wrapped pane of glass. In spite of himself, he felt an electric thrill to be holding the legendary artifact. The pane of glass that was thought to be necessary in order to locate the Astreima. Deilune studied the vivid colors of the stained glass, recognizing the three lifestones and the empty-hearted figures in the lower right corner.

Could Beilla be right? Could finding the Astreima completely change the world?

As Beilla banked the aircraft, Deilune looked up from the Pleisahd and found himself staring into the sharp eyes of the Hawk constellation. Just like the night before, an unexplained buoyancy filled his being, and he dropped the Pleisahd in surprise. It fell to the floor in front of his seat.

"Fool!" hissed Beilla.

Deilune closed his eyes and let the lightness in his limbs recede. To cover his faintness, he asked, "Is this really the Pleisahd? Where did you find it?"

Reclaiming his composure, Beilla boasted, "Let us say that many of those who searched for the Pleisahd did not employ my methods of persuasion. I hope you did not damage it."

Deilune leaned forward with the envelope. He felt for the thick piece of glass on the floor and his fingers found it quickly. "Your trinket is not broken,” he reassured Beilla. And then he pushed the glass pane further under this seat. At the same time, he searched under the seat and, mercifully, they latched onto a book of some kind. It was roughly the same size.

Concealing the slim volume in the shadows at his feet, he dropped it into the envelope as Beilla watched from the corner of his eye. Deilune fastened the clasp and handed the envelope back to Beilla who gave it a quick squeeze and thrust it back under his seat.

Beilla’s irritation ended their conversation, yet it reactivated Deilune's worst fears that Beilla actually might have made a breakthrough with the missing piece. He might have a viable plan to find the Astreima. Making it possible to reconstitute the Tireima, and, in so doing, unleash a power dark enough to catastrophically alter or end the world.

The thought made even a zombie like Deilune tremble.