Excerpt
Chapter 1
Tomas – 1984
Tomas Scholz sits upon a throne beside his father above the stones
of fire. Surrounded by splendour, he bursts with pride as all bow
down and honour them, bestowing gifts of great riches: precious
gems and stones—sardius, topaz, diamond and onyx—silver and
gold, and the rarest of artifacts collected from all over the many
realms. This destiny, although not yet achieved, awaits him after
this world has passed away, or so the shadow has promised.
In time. He must be patient.
A three-toed woodpecker, normally a quiet, shy, little bird,
hammers out a tune on a nearby dead spruce, redirecting Tomas’
thoughts away from his daydreams and back to the matter at hand.
Carrying the device with painstaking care, he reaches a clearing
in the mountains. This flat fold of land has been carefully selected
for the job, unchartered territory, a place no man has previously
travelled. The device is light despite its enormous potential for
destruction, light enough for his nine-year-old hands to carry.
The wind swells in unpredictable gusts sending uprooted weeds
and debris to tumble across the dry landscape. It is not ideal
weather to test out his experiment, on the contrary, but he is
impatient, insistent. If it were anyone else attempting this feat
they would be prudently dissuaded, encouraged to wait for more
opportune conditions. The summer had been a dry one, and the
arid conditions mixed with the gales of wind are a recipe for
disaster.
But Tomas is not like other children. His abilities are powerful
enough to defy even the wind.
Besides, Tomas is too excited to see how it finally works, unable
to wait a moment longer. Adrenaline almost palpable as he flits and
floats across the glade despite his clubbed foot, preparing for the
initial trial of the weapon he has designed and built all by himself.
He is a genius. Wisdom doesn’t grow on trees; it is inherited.
Or prepared in a lab. Both methods are responsible in Tomas’ case.
Born of Renner’s sperm, he has inherited the genes for brilliance,
but his earthly father further manipulated Tomas’ genetic structure
to enhance his potential for genius. In this Renner has been
successful.
Just a child, Tomas is already capable of recombinant DNA
technology and minor medical procedures. Always the perfect
pupil. Always eager to learn more. Technology and inventing
advanced weaponry are his preferred hobbies, skills that come
to him naturally, and had he been allowed to go out in public to
submit these innovations for patenting, he would earn millions,
perhaps billions. But they are billionaires and have no need for
more money. And he is not ready to go out in public, to be exposed
to the world—the world not ready for him yet. For Tomas’ talents
don’t stop there.
Surpassing his higher level of intelligence are his supernatural
abilities, having both fathers to thank for this gift. By the shadow
entering Renner’s body that fateful night in the abandoned chapel,
his DNA changed, which was then passed on to his offspring.
These changes increased the development of DMT produced by
the pineal gland and the subsequent presentation of supernatural
abilities, the like of which have never been seen in humans.
Renner had also manipulated Tomas’ genes, splicing them with
favourable animalistic traits to increase his special abilities. The
final product is a boy who has powers that are both profound and
intense. Unrestrained. In this Renner has also been successful.
Tomas is a telepath, able to read other people’s thoughts
and desires with great ease. Most impressive are his telekinetic
capabilities, able to teleport any object, from the size of a grain of
sand all the way up to a massive Gothic castle to any location he
so desires. Able to transport his own body.
But impressive though this is, Tomas is not perfect. None of
them are. Flaws remain in Renner’s recombinant DNA techniques,
glitches he still struggles to correct with each series of experiments.
There is always an element of trial and error when it comes to
experimenting in new unexplored areas, but he has faith he will
overcome these limitations and the supernatural abilities that all
the offspring display prove he is on the right track.
Tomas is the most handsome of them all if you could call
him handsome. Hair, worn long and unruly. Taller than most
nine-year-olds, he is more muscular as well but not a giant like
some of his brothers. He prefers to wear mostly jogging pants,
jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters for there is no need to dress up here.
No one to impress. His eyes are as black as pitch and empty. Dead
embers.
Born with a cleft palate, Tomas underwent corrective surgery
as a young baby, but Renner being untrained in cosmetic
procedures, the repair didn’t go as well as planned. Tomas can
feed and communicate much better than he would have without
the surgical procedure, but a resultant lisp when speaking words
that contain the letter s has Tomas training extensively to articulate
his words. The lisp now more of an extended, exaggerated s sound.
The speech impediment isn’t as bothersome as the thickened scar
tissue between his nose and upper lip. Tomas plans on visiting
a real cosmetic surgeon who will correct the botched effort his
father performed and eliminate the scar—when he is older, when
he is permitted to venture out into the real world. He also has a
clubbed right foot that gives him a mild limp. These deformities
are considered minor compared to his brothers’. So, he has little
to complain about, this he knows.
His brothers, on the other hand, have not fared as well. The
flaws in Renner’s experiments far more evident. The deformities
more intensive, requiring massive reconstruction, the likes of
which do not yet exist. Tomas is already working diligently on
this limitation, inventing his own brand of prosthetics that will
help the remainder of his triplet brothers—his womb-mates—and
other siblings to help them be more aesthetically pleasing to the
eye or at least less abhorrent while simultaneously helping them
to channel their own gifts. Augment them.
But again, in time.
Tomas’ preparations slowly come to completion. He lopes
across the field through tussock grasses and stunted shrubbery to
the location he has deemed most beneficial for his test. He stops
amidst a patch of denser grasses and wildflowers, adjacent to a
stand of tiny gnarled aspens. Mounds of rhododendron underbrush
proudly display their yellow and white puff ball-shaped flowers
tinged with pink and lavender.
Soon their beauty will be extinguished.
The sound of a river rushing at highs speeds can be detected from
this vantage point, an important proponent for this experiment to
function smoothly.
He looks over to see if the shadow—his other father, the one
that matters most—is watching, desiring his praise. A moment of
insecurity?
But, the moment of weakness is short-lived. As soon as Tomas
senses approval, he commences, extending his right arm towards
the surrounding rhododendron mounds and dry grasses. Clumsily,
he fastens the contraption to his extended right wrist with plastic
straps and buckles. The weapon, a flame thrower, is like no other.
It is controlled by Tomas’ mind alone, lacking buttons or switches,
with nothing to turn it on or off, no dials to increase or decrease
its power, except by his mind’s will.
Abruptly he stops, eyes fastening on the shadow as the sound of
a woman’s scream pierces his mind. The sound is heard through
his gift, although the actual source is not much further than their
location, yet still safely out of harm’s way. Their eyes make contact,
full of mutual understanding. It is Milena, once more in the throes
of labour.
“It will be a boy,” he tells the shadow.
“Yes, yes, I know,” the shadow responds.
They are all boys, so it is a natural conclusion. However, Tomas
knows this on another level, knows it for a fact as the baby’s
thoughts can already be heard, although he is not yet born. “He
is different,” Tomas adds, before returning to his task without
further explanation.
A shiny, black crow bursts out of the shrubbery and furiously
flaps its wings, escaping barely in time, somehow anticipating
the fire that will quickly follow. Tomas telepathically transmits
a message to the weapon to eject a far-reaching rope of flame
from its tip, and the contraption immediately obliges, bathing the
mountain glade in fire. He slowly spins in a circle creating a ring
of fire around him, the flames dancing and rising as if in adoration
and worship. The intense orange from the fire’s light is reflected
in his black eyes as if tiny flames have been sparked from within
the lifeless black embers.
“It works!” he exclaims. “Father, can you see it?”
The flames continue to rise.
And rise. And rise higher still, the flames licking and lapping at
Tomas’ face and body and limbs. Searing, melting, binding. Until
flame and skin become one.
