Legend of the Elementals, Book 1: Reintroduction

By Kyle Timmermeyer

Ryan, Erin, Kris, and Jason are heroes defined by the villain, unwitting assistants in a cataclysm brought about by an old man who calls himself... Devidis. The four modern, international teens awaken deep within a jungle canyon, a prison in the post-apocalyptic empire established by the tyrannical Devidis. Surrounded by danger, the four Elementals quickly embrace their new-found super-powered control of the elements--wind, fire, water and stone--under the guidance of Sensei, an imprisoned freedom fighter who believes that Devidis' near omnipotence is a clear sign that the world is a persistent illusion in the mind of its evil emperor. And so the Elementals are forced to come of age in an increasingly hostile land. Though supernaturally capable, they are faced with a frightening possibility: are their hopes, goals, powers, friends, enemies, surroundings and selves... all an illusion? It's "Final Fantasy meets X-Men" as worlds are torn asunder!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kyle Timmermeyer
• Release date: Mar 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781466050440

Kyle Timmermeyer

Kyle Timmermeyer has been a writer and lover of adventure for as long as he can remember. When he gets old and starts going senile, he supposes that he'll have been an ESL English teacher and world traveler for as long as he can remember. He might also begin to think he's always been a turnip, and wax nostalgic about the Great Vegetable War. (So many tears were shed when the onions got chopped!) Anyway, in addition to the Legend of the Elementals series, Kyle has written far too much about dimwitted superhero Bucket-Man.

Book preview

Legend of the Elementals

Book 1: Reintroduction

by

Kyle Timmermeyer

--

Copyright Kyle Timmermeyer 2012

Smashwords Edition License Notes:

Thank you for your interest in this e-book; its copyright is the property of its author. This book may not be reproduced, copied, or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes without the author’s official permission. See the author’s website for more information. Your support is greatly appreciated.

Table of Contents

Devidis’ Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Summon of the Elementals

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Elementals Onward

To Be Continued

Devidis’ Foreword

There was a young man, and I was that young man.

There was a mistake that I made on purpose.

There was a power, and I took that power.

I became the god of my own world.

There was a great struggle, and I wanted that struggle.

I made my own adversary, my own heroes.

There was a universe and I was that universe.

And so I knew everyone, but mostly that man.

I learned my lesson and left my legacy.

I lived my fiction in between.

I am the legend of the Elementals

These words that survive here are mere incidentals.

Here I forget myself again…

Chapter 1

Jason:

He had slammed on his brakes, and I didn’t have enough time to stop. It should have been just that simple: a fender-bender, nothing to lose sleep over. This was LA, after all. It could have been almost normal, less than news, a by the way around the dinner table. But he wasn’t going to let it play out like that. He was a bottomless pit, a black hole, and he was going to drag everything to himself, swallow it, and leave nothing behind. It shouldn’t have been that way. It wasn’t normal, it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t my fault. But that’s the way it happened. He was the beginning of the end of everything.

My head rocked back stiffly. I opened my eyes and peered anxiously through the evening haze into the vehicle ahead. I made out long hair, a face in profile, a shadow framed against the black car’s interior light. I was suddenly aware of the tightness in my neck and forced the muscles to relax. Looking lower, I noticed the black car’s quarter panel newly decorated with a scar, a deep dent. Oh, no.

You! The shout from the driver ahead was muffled through the glass.

His stringy white hair and thin nose framed two intense, dark eyes. I winced and drew back. The eyes were predatory, vicious. It seemed almost silly at first, but I felt like prey... like it was only a matter of time.

You! Look at me! said the man in the car I had just rear-ended.

I swallowed hard. The insurance card in the glove box crossed my mind. What would I say?

Reluctantly, I cranked down my driver side window, and realized that my music was still blaring when it began to compete with rushing cars and furious honks. The electric guitar vanished with a click, and left behind the breath of traffic. The flow of vehicles was still able to make a wide pass using the lanes on the left. I tentatively stuck my head out into the cool night air.

The man was there, staring back at me. His black eyes were hungry. I broke away from their gaze. Breathing hard, I found myself hoping against reason that the wild-eyed driver ahead would leave me, and find some other animal to stalk. I mustered my courage and looked back up, trying my best to meet those dark eyes. A few seconds passed with nothing said.

Finally, my mouth slacked open, and I asked, dumbly, Should we pull over to the side? If we can?

The man gave a careful nod, along with an insidious not-quite-smile that highlighted the wrinkles in his face. Yes... you should follow me.

His face vanished into his car, and his emergency lights began to flash, yellow on black and chrome. I grimaced; it was a very expensive car, with a very creepy driver. While no one was passing on the shoulder, the old man pulled the car to the far right.

My own cruddy car was still in gear, still drivable. And the shoulder was comfortably wide, since we were at the peak of an on-ramp. Small favors in a bad situation.

As I carefully pulled in behind the old man, I reminded myself that I shouldn’t let him leave without getting his car insurance information and giving him mine. My dad had that well-drilled into me.

Dad! He was still on duty. I grabbed my phone from the central console and forced my shaking hands to dial 9-1-1.

9-1-1. What’s your emergency? a calm woman’s voice answered.

This is Jason Trudeau, son of Officer Trudeau. I’ve been involved in an accident near…

I looked behind me for the nearest exit sign and took note of the long ramp winding down from the overpass into the streets of Los Angeles. I gave our location and information, said no to the ambulance, and ended the call with a stutter and a beep. My phone dropped to the dirty seat cushion as I popped open the glove box. My chest heaved slowly as I sorted through the trash, searching for the insurance papers and a pen. I had to substitute two largely unused napkins, one to offer the old man, and the other to record his information. With the paperwork, pen, and napkins in hand, I clunked open my door and stepped onto the rough pavement.

A swift, cold gust ruffled my hair as I turned toward the old man’s dark vehicle. I picked the black machine out from among the night’s shadows ahead of me. The driver side window displayed a light gray, leather-bound interior, but no driver.

The old man was leaning over the edge of the guard rail, arms folded, clutching a long tan coat against his body. With his pale-whiskered chin thrust into the open air, he seemed to be scanning the intermittent life in streets and buildings beyond. The closer I got to him, the more uneasy I felt. Perched on the edge of the overpass, eyes downcast, he seemed every inch a predator, a hawk ready to launch.

The lights of the city burned warmly below. I wished that I were anywhere else out there, but thoughts of a jacked-up insurance premium and a grounding from my dad smashed those daydreams with what then felt like heavy consequences. I flexed my shoulders, already too tense, as I focused on the tan coat. Just get it over with, Jason, I told myself. Stay cool. After all, he’s just an old man... a weird, black-eyed, old man with a really nice car... a car he stopped in the middle of the highway for no apparent reason.

Then the frown crossed my face. No attitude, not this time. It was my dad’s voice in my mind. This guy deserves the same respect as any senior citizen… any rich, weird senior citizen who had come to a screeching halt in the middle of the freeway for no apparent reason. The voice had become my own again. I shook my head and sealed my lips, letting my feet do their work, trying not to think about those strange eyes.

The paperwork, the pen, and a napkin appeared at the driver’s elbow, but he didn’t look down.

…Sir? I asked politely. Fortunately, his eyes were still focused with great interest on the city.

You can put those things away, the old man finally said. We won’t be needing them. His voice was clear and firm, shaken neither by age nor by the wreck.

Oh, great. A certifiable old eccentric. I coughed to interrupt the unhelpful thought.

Well, actually... I started to say, leaning against the guard rail, trying to sort through the old man’s cryptic words.

You don’t feel it, do you? He swiveled toward me, and pierced me with the full intensity of his dark-eyed stare.

The sudden motion, and the strange way he emphasized feel surprised me. My hands snapped to my sides. I found my feet scuttling backward two full steps.

Feel what? I shot the question back at him, more nervous than I should have been.

I remember what it was like to be so ignorant. It’s almost a shame… His sentence drifted, and so did his eyes, back toward the city.

Uh… I checked myself, wary of any blunt rudeness, though this old man seemed intent on hearing some.

Since I have little time to spare, then, I will make things very simple for you. I intended for that minor crash to happen, and its results are worth far more than some sports car. He dismissed his expensive vehicle with a flick of the wrist.

Results…? I repeated. My shoulders suddenly relaxed. The thought of a hidden-camera game show crossed my mind. It seemed, at the time, strange enough to be true.

What kind of results? I asked.

He crossed his arms, high and proud against his chest. His dark eyes burned as he slowly selected his words.

I have been looking for… people… like you, for a long time. A conspiratorial smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

Cars flew by beside me. No one else was stopped. There were no cameras, no camera people. I spread my feet and planted them against the asphalt. Where were the police? I began to regret leaving my phone in the car. Strange was something I could deal with, but this type of crazy was making me more than anxious.

I tore my eyes away from his dark gaze and rehashed his words in my mind.

Wait… I said. "You intended for the accident to happen? And—"

He gave a slight nod, his dark eyes wide. You will never know me to make a mistake.

And you intended for me, Jason Trudeau, to crash into you? I spread my hands in confusion. This guy was off his rocker.

Jason Trudeau… He seemed to consider the syllables. His black eyes turned upward in thought. He was committing the words to memory. I immediately regretted giving him my full name.

Yes, he finally said. I told you that I do not make mistakes.

Well, hey, tell that to the cops, that this whole thing was your idea, and you won’t hear any more complaints from me. I threw up my hands, then leaned back against the guard rail, wondering how I had been unfortunate enough to have crashed into a crazy man.

The old man’s heavy boot hammered against the pavement, the crack of the impact jerking me back to attention.

I have no patience for police, and no interest in the enforcement of fools’ laws. The old man’s angry words blasted forth. This is what will happen: I will tell you what I want you to hear, and then I will get back in my nearly undamaged car and carry out the rest of my plans for the evening.

I took a calming breath, avoiding his burning black eyes. Paranoid, moody... This guy was on some kind of drug... or three.

Alright, I said, taking another step back. that’s fine with me; just sign me a note saying that you won’t hold me liable for the accident, give me your insurance information, and you can tell me whatever you want. I looked down at my insurance papers, glad that copying my information onto the napkin was a great excuse to avoid the old man’s gaze.

I see that I do not have your full attention, Jason Trudeau, his rough hand suddenly grabbed me by my jacket collar and twisted me toward his deep black eyes.

Fear crept upon me. Those dark eyes... There was something else about them... It was as if they were sucking in the light. My fingers slipped. The napkins were whisked over the guard rail into the night sky.

I shoved his hand away and scraped several steps backward. My fist tightened protectively around my remaining insurance papers.

My father is a cop, a veteran on the force, I warned the old man. He’ll be here any time soon.

That’s very interesting… The old man rolled his hollow eyes upward in thought. His smirk broke into a smile across his thin-lipped mouth.

The senior citizen’s deceptively strong hand suddenly disappeared into the deep pocket of his tan coat.

Well, I’m sure that I will be able to get your full attention then, he said. It was an omen.

What are you tal—? I said. My eyes lowered. The hidden hands made me more nervous than the reaching one. I took another step away from the old man with the black eyes.

I’m talking about recruitment. I’m always looking for people with talent. He smiled, clearly contemplating some nasty secret.

I backed away, but he pressed on, dark eyes burning as he asked, Do you believe in the supernatural, reality beyond logic?

My pen clacked to the concrete, and my insurance papers followed with a flutter. A car’s horn blared into silence.

"That’s it. It’s not funny