Destination(s) (Paradigm Shift, #2)

By STK Chan

She’s always known there is no happy ending to man’s ways.

"An entertaining and action-packed futuristic tale." Kirkus Review

Lisa gives up on the real world to only stick with her shamanic existence, so she can fight for a Paradigm Shift harder than ever before. But her allies grow short when she starts breaking the rules. Running down invaders in retreat and launching unprovoked attacks causes Exo’s dark side to bounce back: evil rounds up lightning-fast and many of the enemy soldiers transform into fierce Elementals. Lisa obstinately continues her raids against all kinds of armies that had ever walked the earth, until she awakens an impossible antagonistic force. Battles cannot be won, her shaman fighters fall in droves, and dreadful echoes enter the real times. Both Exo and the real world are heading for disaster. Yet there is hope when Lisa realizes she needs to take up the ultimate quest—jump deep into the echoes of the past, in an all-in attempt to reach for Exo’s origins. That must be the only way to bring a necessary correction to the wrong path mankind has taken at some point in history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: STK Chan
• Release date: May 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005140182

Book preview

PARADIGM SHIFT

#2

Destination(s)

by

S.T.K. Chan

Copyright © 2021 S.T.K. Chan

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

1

Exo, ca. 300 BC.

The ship advanced slowly across the dark waters north of Crete. No lantern flickered, no sail billowed, and the light of the moon—even when it pierced the thick fog from time to time—didn’t illuminate a single letter on the ship’s bow or stern.

A sailor stood bent over the starboard side, hands clenched on the rail of tarred wood. One of his ears was missing, and a bloody cloth covered fresh wounds on his chest. Another man approached, limping on a crippled leg and holding a rope whip.

Did we pass it? he asked.

Instead of answering, the man without the ear turned toward the deck. Countless barrels and crates lay across it, scattered by the riot that had just occurred. One of the three masts was broken in half and trailing over the side, still smoking, as two sailors struggled to cut it loose. On the port side, twenty people were on their knees, cramped together and tied up, most of them very young.

Tough luck! his voice thundered at them. One of the prisoners raised his head to look for the shoreline he knew to be close. The earless man sneered. Heraklion stayed behind. You hurried only to die faster! From the ship’s cargo, stuffy voices carried to the deck followed by the crack of a whip or a bat. How many slaves are left?

Thirty-seven, replied a sailor with a sword on his shoulder. He kicked the one who had raised his head. With these, sixty.

The cripple with the whip came closer again. We need more hands from Skolopendra’s Pit. And another helmsman, he said. Without one, we could fall into guarded waters.

The earless pirate didn’t answer that time either. He walked toward the kneeling prisoners and started inspecting their wounds. Then he suddenly straightened, catching a slave by her hair.

I know what you’re thinking, he said, grinning. That those who are barely moving will pay for it. And that women are worth more. No, sweetie, we’re gonna do this differently. The pirate drew his dagger and cut off her hair, letting her chin sink into her chest. "You will point to the ten who will die. Let’s see your camaraderie now—whoever points toward another lives. If not, I get to choose. Come on, be fast or you’re gonna miss your chance!"

The cripple pulled him back, agitated. That’s hundreds of dinars you’re throwing into the wind! Not counting the ones that have already died. Let’s sell them in the north, in Megara. We can leave Rome for another time—

The pirate acting like the captain pulled the whip from the cripple’s hand, rolled it around his neck, and pushed him out of the way. Then he turned to the slaves with a thirst for revenge. I’m waiting! Counting to ten.

Two of them rushed to point toward their neighbors. By the end of the count, three more fingers cast a death sentence. The pirates hauled away the executioners to return them to the hold.

Now you, you, you and you. And you. The captain pointed at random, and the other pirates began to gather those he’d chosen. One of the slaves, overlooked in the selection of the doomed, let escape a sigh of relief. The captain noticed and sadistically added, Wait. Switch them with those left here.

The pirates lifted the death-sentenced prisoners to the starboard rail. Each had one hand bound to the hip with a rope, which was tightly tied to chunks of old iron to draw them below the surface.

Not seeing you struggling would have spoiled the fun, snorted the captain as he began pushing them into the sea.

If you hold your breath long enough, maybe the low tide will save you! Look, the shore is just right there, another pirate shouted in mockery while stretching a sail.

The unfortunate ten tried to use their free hands to stay on the surface and untie the knots in their bindings. They disappeared from view one by one, taking a last gasp of air before the weights yanked them under the surface. A morbid silence engulfed them beneath the shallow waters. They saw the diffuse light of the clear moon as if it was only a few feet above them.

Signaling one another, the prisoners lined up on the sea floor, grabbing each other’s ropes with their spare hands, and headed toward the shore in a shuffling half-walk, half-dogpaddle. After less than a minute, the first teen succumbed and became a burden, so they left him behind. Then another, and in seconds, two more.

When the last survivors lost the battle with the ruthless depths, a shadow fell among them, cutting the sea like an albatross. A dome of air unfolded from the murky vortex to hold the waters at bay, illuminated by torrents of energy which twined across the sea’s sandy floor.

Those inside the life-saving hemisphere began to cough and started to regain their strength. The first young man to regain awareness lifted himself on his elbows and stared at the woman who stood in the middle: a warlike figure, with long, brown hair that was completely dry and eyes which reflected the dark green sea. Her light armor showed the gold that shrouded her neck and the thick rays of the same color which spread over her chest and naked shoulders down to her elbows.

With lightning quick moves, another shadow gathered the drowning slaves who had been left behind on the sea floor, pulling them out of the water until there were none left lying on the bottom of the sea.

In a flash, two boats were carrying the ill-fated slaves toward a deserted shore. The boats were paddled by their armored rescuers: the woman and a gray-haired man bearing the same gold marks on his skin.

We lost two of them, Lisa, he said.

I lost one, too, she replied, staring toward a body turned into a plaster corpse.

He jumped out of his boat to pull it ashore. Don’t be too hard on yourself. The rescued slaves were shivering from the cold, and the Astral shamans modeled mantles for them. The venomous echoes reverberating from Skolopendra’s Pit covered what was occurring here until it was too late.

I know, Denzibal. It’s only that I find it difficult to accept that I can’t save everyone, Lisa said.

She lit a fire and gathered them all around it.

Forever grateful, said the girl whose hair had been chopped off by the pirate captain. I am ready to do whatever you ask.

There’s no need for that, Denzibal replied. But we can’t guarantee you won’t face the same fate among the Spartans around here.

Whoever chooses to fight against the pirates of Skolopendra’s Pit is welcome to join us, Lisa announced.

The former slaves looked at each other, terrified of the place she named. There they would again meet the criminals that haunted the eastern Mediterranean.

Us and who else? a young man dared.

We’ve gathered people from nearby. We’ll be joined by slaves freed from the dungeons. The first fight will be easy, Lisa assured.

The first fight? another one said, shock crossing his face.

If the ones we’re waiting on catch up, the last fight should be just as trivial, Denzibal replied, eyes untroubled.

The pirates will try to retake their den. It’s on their route from Cilicia and other rotten places on the way to Rome, which is growing in strength and whose unscrupulous traders fill their coffers, Lisa explained.

We come from Cilicia too, a freed slave said. And there are many more to come—they’re selling everyone who ever lost a battle in Persia, Rhodes, or—

Forget about that. Sleep without fear. Tomorrow, you are free to choose your path, Lisa said. With that, she modeled straw mats for everyone and settled down next to Denzibal.

The fog slowly dissipated, retreating up the slopes of wild olive trees. In the distance, eastward, the faint light emanating from Heraklion’s lighthouse shone in the inky blackness. The pirates either carefully avoided the port, or they bribed commanders who sought wealth.

But Exo prepared such a peaceful sea that night, as if dreamlike love songs were about to murmur through the air, as lovers walked along garden paths nearby. Lisa closed her eyes, sighing lightly, remembering the echoes of waves on a terrace of a hotel pool in Malta.

*

Some distance away from the farthest woodshed of the shady port called Skolopendra’s Pit, but close enough to be noticed, Lisa and a bunch of locals started building the site for a ship assembly.

Just as the two Astral shamans had anticipated, a pack of bandits approached them on the first day of labor. The ‘workers’ initially pretended to be scared by the intrusion, led with swords and violent threats, then pulled out their own weapons, which had been hidden among the building materials. They quickly flattened the pirates. Lisa made sure one was left alive to raise the alarm among their fellow miscreants.

Now we shall see who will answer my call, she said, retreating to a stretch of sand that neighbored the building site.

Denzibal accompanied her. And if their numbers will be enough, he added.

If no one shows up, I will bring this to an end and obey the majority of the Astrals. But if even one answers, I will fight beside him until my very last breath.

Lisa closed her eyes. The golden marks on her skin glowed and a dampened thud followed, making the sands shift around her under a short breeze. Then she turned toward the sea horizon and leaned on an unusually long sword, ignoring the appearance of shamans from various historical ages.

Enough, Denzibal said.

Lisa put on a satisfied look before turning to face the hundred warriors scattered across the beach. Kai headed toward her first, his eyes filled with joy at seeing her again.

Twice as many are to come from this episode’s future, he said, seconded by Ewan as he approached.

Even with this army alone, we can hope to get deep into the pirate’s lair in Cilicia, Lisa replied firmly.

Kai gave a brief approving nod and, just as in the past, the two exchanged a confident glance. He then returned to stand next to Zinco and Jean-Pierre, who tilted their heads questioningly.

Ewan, the Scottish leader shaman, opened his mouth to say something, but Lisa stopped him by raising two fingers. She scanned the gathering of warriors up to the last man as she furrowed her eyebrows, disheartened. Kai lowered his gaze to his feet in lack of any uplifting words from the one that Lisa would’ve hoped to see at least one more time.

I know, Ewan, she whispered, laying a hand on the Scottish shaman’s shoulder. It’s very simple, she spoke loudly. We can’t just limit ourselves to rectifying echoes. The quest that I am leading you on is about cleansing shadows. And to me, it makes all the sense in the world to cleanse them all. Or end our shaman existence attempting to do so.

That’s why we’re here, one of the entrants called out. Most of them were already modeling weapons.

Some of you are still thinking of Yazhu and wondering if I wronged him in any way, Lisa continued. I am telling you today that I wish more than anything that he was still among us. With a shaman like him at our side, it’s certain that we could’ve made it further than we will without him. A respectful thrill overwhelmed all those who had once followed the Chinese shaman. But remember, his rules are my rules. And you are just as free to leave this fellowship whenever you desire, as you were under his command.

No one left Exo.

What guise should we adopt in this episode? someone asked.

It makes no difference now, Lisa replied. We’re here for one thing only—to fight evil. And if evil notices us first, all the better.

A second, larger group of pirates arrived nearby, armed-to-the-teeth and determined to avenge those killed earlier. Seeing the fast-growing army, they stepped back and lingered expectantly, while more outlaws gathered behind them.

Steady, Lisa demanded, a hand raised. We can win this without triggering Elementals.

As the pirates were slow to attack, she drew a line with the tip of her sword in the dirt. Denzibal then planted a flag in the ground and gestured to the pirates not to cross over, or they would be hanged. The trick worked: many of them advanced, thrusting their swords forward.

It’s on! Lisa screamed.

She dashed toward Skolopendra’s Pit, hitting the core of the bandits’ huddle. They countered her with every kind of sword that could be found along the Mediterranean, down the Nile, or round the Black Sea. No less than seven pirates turned into white dust at a torso twist and two swings of her arms. Denzibal, Kai, and Ewan shot into the panicking crowd of villains too, and the first clash ended before all the shamans even reached the edge of the outlaw port.

Skolopendra’s Pit teemed with commotion. Faces filled with vengefulness, hatred, and sadistic intent appeared from every direction. Pirates began dismantling several shutterless huts with ruined roofs to block the passage of Lisa’s troops. Those crippled, or too drunk to fight, threw lit lamps and liquor jugs, littering the muddy paths. Near the docks, the captains of the five anchored ships shouted orders to raise barricades of barrels and heavy crates, while the pirates unloaded more weapons.

Lisa raised her sword into the air, aligning the shaman fighters. From the center of the port they heard the shouts of the slaves imprisoned in a stone-wall-reinforced barrack, some clanging sticks through the window bars, others kicking the thick doors.

The shamans slowly advanced, leaving destruction in their wake. The bandits soon retreated to the better-guarded waterfront area, giving them the opportunity to release the slaves. As the slaves escaped, Lisa and Denzibal handed over weapons to those eager to join the fight.

Lisa turned her head, a strange presence burning the back of her neck. From high above, amid the wild olive trees, the best friend she could ever wish for pierced her with a sour gaze. Gabbie’s unkempt hair tangled in the wind, and her tired eyes bore stains of dried tears. One of the freed slaves pulled the sword out of Lisa’s hand, but she remained motionless. Gabbie slowly passed behind the shrubs, keeping her distance.

The siege continued under prolonged hails of arrows and spears. Lisa regarded the bold army she had summoned; there was no need for her to intervene. She took a few steps toward Gabbie, but the ancient Greek shaman retreated each time.

The battlefield sounds ceased, and a circle formed in front of the shamans’ first line of attack. Lisa remodeled her sword and moved with haste to assess the situation.

One of the pirate captains had brought a chest filled with gold coins and jewelry and placed it at Denzibal’s feet.

You dog! shouted the shorn-haired slave of the previous night. Don’t listen to him. He’s not worth a spit. He’s the one that threw us to our deaths!

Zinco and Jean-Pierre rushed to stop the former slaves who were ready to cut the pirate’s throat. The other shamans looked toward Lisa, who lifted the chest in one hand and melted it, shaping the wooden box and all the precious metal inside into a gleaming cage. She invited the bandit in. He gritted his teeth and took a step back, rallying his pirates to continue the assault. Amidst the ensuing chaos, he bolted onto his ship and ordered its departure, eagerly cutting the lines that held the ship ashore. Two more ships managed to escape.

The shamans conquered the outlaw port with few losses. From the remaining ships, they brought down a few rows of pirates who had chosen to surrender, though they knew they might be hanged.

What should we do with them? Ewan asked, eagerly resting his hand on his sword.

Wait! Zinco interceded. They surrendered. We must show mercy, he pleaded to Lisa.

Lisa remembered Gabbie witnessing it all from the ruins behind them. Kai noticed the blonde shaman too and made his way toward her.

They are shadows, and that is what they shall remain, Ewan insisted.

Gabbie no longer waited for Lisa’s reply and departed Exo in a brief air distortion, leaving Kai in the middle of the road.

Lisa turned to Ewan, nostrils flaring. Exo or not, no one proceeds with executions under my command! I didn’t think you needed to be reminded of that, she added before pushing the prisoners into the barrack that had previously held slaves.

The Scottish shaman complied and his chin dipped. Lisa demanded the Cretans and the freed slaves take command over the port, but to return under Heraklion’s protection without delay.

We’re letting them flee? Kai asked, watching the runaway pirate ships sail off.

Not at all, Lisa replied. They ran out of ‘merchandise,’ so we’ll meet them in the next port toward Cilicia.

Our ship will be bigger, faster, and stronger, Denzibal added. He was gathering the shamans to hastily model the rest of the vessel which would be built by the Cretans.

By sunset, the new ship was finished and ready to be launched. Ewan approached Lisa during the departure arrangements.

I didn’t mean that. The stakes of our new battles bring unexpected impulses to the surface, he said.

It does so in all of us. It’s something we need to pay attention to, or we might regret our choices, Lisa replied.

*

Zinco and Jean-Pierre were in control