172
It still amazed Hershel that he could open his eyes and be greeted with something other than blackness. He stumbled away from Phos, feeling drained as he took in his surroundings. It was a circular room lined with pillars and windows. But the thing that immediately drew his eye was the giant crystal in the center of the room, embedded into a circular platform.
"The Beckoning Stone," he murmured, but he turned to find Phos radiating power. His heart jumped to his throat. "Phos?"
This is the portal we Ancients come through to enter the Island; it should still be loyal to my authority and power. I should be able to maintain this room without interference long enough for you to make the summoning.
Hershel's heart began to pound. This was it…the only thing left to do that could get him off this horrible Island. But now all he could think about was everything Imgloss had warned him of regarding the First Ancients. Would they even listen to him? Or would he only be punished further?
Hershel…
He turned to face his master, who was still forming some kind of protective spell around the whole of the room.
Be careful
He nodded once and turned back to the beckoning stone. It was formidable in its own right. Hershel had never seen anything like it, and he approached it slowly. He stretched out his hands and placed them on the cool surface of the crystal, and with a shaky breath he hoped that he would be able to summon enough aura to power the crystal.
Suddenly, the whole room tremored, and he heard Phos curse.
Blasted Island. Quickly Boy!
It felt so familiar—Phos barking at him about something that needed to be done. But this wasn't home, and the deed was far more important than a simple mixture or exercise or poultice. Without hesitating any longer, Hershel filled the crystal with power. It blazed with the pearly light. It seemed it needed less power than he thought, but perhaps that was because it was responding to the First Ancient Aura to begin with. Hershel closed his eyes.
Please….
He swallowed as he focused his energy into beckoning them—the First Ancients. Willing them to listen.
I am Hershel, Master Healer of the Realm and captive of the Island. This place you've created has become tainted—drunk on its own will and power—and you are the only ones who can stop it. Even now it fights us to stop this message…
The room shuddered hard, and Hershel forced himself to stay focused on his plea.
The Healer's organization that you have established is in disarray. Its meaning is lost and its members are bitter husks with no real purpose. Your legacy is crumbling, and I've braved the Trial of a Master to seek your help to restore meaning and balance. I summon you!
He paused, waiting for some stirring or feeling. But there was nothing. Hershel felt the familiar feelings of despair start to creep into his mind. He forced himself to ignore it, digging deeper. Forcing more power into the Beckoning Stone.
I SUMMON YOU!
The room shuddered violently once again, and for a moment Hershel hoped that it meant that the First Ancients were on their way. That they had listened. But the seconds ticked on and he opened his eyes to see that while the crystal in front of him continued to blaze with his power, it was still passive. Silent.
Hershel continued to beg, to plead, to pour his new power into the crystal in the hopes that he would not be ignored. But as the time continued to pass and the crystal remained silent, the last of Hershel's hope trickled out with his power.
Tears sprung into his eyes; the room seemed to be spinning. A voice in the back of his mind was warning him that he was approaching his limit; he needed to stop expending power. For a moment he was filled with bitterness and despair, to the point where he sank to his knees and was fully prepared to spend the last of his energy into the crystal because he didn't care what happened anymore. But then there was a cold hand on his shoulder.
The crystal faded as Hershel's hands did, and he sat and stared at it. He could see a trace of his reflection in its surface. It was pale…so pale.
"Is it that they can't be reached, or they won't be reached?" he finally murmured in exhaustion. He heard Phos sigh, but the Ancient at his side didn't answer. A flash of rage filled Hershel's broken soul and he slammed his fist into the ground.
"They've abandoned this realm!" he yelled, his voice echoing off the smooth walls. "For centuries, they've ignored us. Left us all to whatever fate would bring us as their outdated laws bound us…"
No one is perfect, Hershel. Not even the First Ancients.
Phos moved to sit on the circular platform, giving his old apprentice a long look.
The organization…the Island. The First Ones meant them to be eternal solutions, but even good intentions will fester if left too long on their own.
"Then why did they abandon their intentions?" Hershel glanced back at the crystal wearily. "Have they ever answered a summoning?"
A few. But as time passed, no doubt it became harder to come back
"What do you mean?"
Phos exhaled through his nose, which Hershel thought was odd. Why would a ghost need to breathe? But perhaps it was done more out of habit than out of necessity.
Death is not like life, Hershel. And the longer one is in the Departed Realm, the harder it is to make the choice to reconnect with the living realms. This Island is more a half-way-point than anything, but it is still difficult. One must remember what it was like to live, remember what it was like for there to be risks, danger. For in death everything is stagnant; there is no urgency because there are no threats. Eventually, all pass into the mindset that there is no point connecting to life when all life will become death regardless, no matter what interference is given.
The windows shuddered with another tremor that ripped through the room, and Hershel considered his Master's words.
"They've been dead too long, you mean," he finally interpreted wearily. "They don't care about their realm any longer. Why should they worry about people who will only die in the end, anyway?"
His tone had become bitter and he moved to cradle his face in his hands.
They are the most powerful Oni that ever lived. But that doesn't mean they were above mortal flaws. No one is perfect…
"And yet they expected perfection from me!"
Hershel was yelling now, anger causing his aura to stir limply around him.
"The Law of the Ancients is functional, Phos, enough to blind me and take my powers. For a mistake…a simple mistake. How could they punish me so cruelly for not being perfect when they aren't? When they won't even come now?"
The ground rolled with another earthquake-like tremor, and Phos's eyes darted up to his spell, his lips pursed. Hershel didn't notice as the fight left him all at once. He was hollow inside…hopelessness settling in him. Because it didn't matter why the First Ancients wouldn't come. In this moment—in his situation—all that really mattered was that they weren't coming.
"I…I can't do it."
The realization was crushing, and Phos's eyes darted back to him.
Hershel…
"I can't escape. My whole plan was to get to the Beckoning Stone…to reach the First Ancients. It's the only reason that I ever came to the Island. Because I thought if I could get here…"
He trailed off, his expression bleak. Phos clenched his jaw.
We will get you home.
"How? You cannot release me, Phos. Lunise is right; I'm more Guardian than Oni now; a part of the Island, albeit an unwilling one. The First Ancients will not answer. Whether or not I ever agree to join the Island completely, I will never be allowed freedom from its shores."
His eyes wouldn't focus, and he stared off at one of the shaking windows.
"I'll never see anyone I love again. And if I don't join the Island, I will be alone here forever…"
Not alone.
He glanced over to see his Master looking at him with a fiery resolve as his hand clamped on the trembling man's shoulder once again.
I will not leave you here on your own. For as long as it takes us to free you, I will be here.
Hershel swallowed as he searched Phos's expression. He knew better than to question his Master when he had made a decision, however, and his eyes filled with grateful tears.
"Thank you, Phos."
Myrah just stared, not understanding.
"How did you get in here?" she finally demanded as the man began to come forward. It was the only thing she could think of to say. The man sneered.
"You have something that belongs to me. Thus, I let myself in."
His eyes darted back to the sleeping child among the parchments. Myrah moved so that she was standing between the man and Pippa.
"Who are you?"
Her voice had become steely, and Bula let out a strangled noise as Myrah unsheathed the sword at her hip. The man merely laughed as if he was dealing with an amusing child.
"Myrah, no!" Bula hissed from across the room. Myrah glanced at her Senior Advisor to see that the short woman looked gaunt. "He's an Ancient."
Unease flickered across the Western Leader's expression at that, and the man sneered as she looked back at him.
"Indeed…you best remember your respect, girl. I wise leader never disrespects an Ancient…or did nobody ever teach you that?"
Her heart was pounding in her chest, but her mind was making connections now. If Bula knew him, then this had to be the one. The one who had hurt Hershel.
"I've decided that my respect is not given to titles any longer," she answered coolly. "It's given to those who earn it."
He barked out a laugh there, and Bula seemed to be sweating in the tense atmosphere as she dabbed her face with a cloth.
"Myrah please!" she hissed again. But the leader didn't move from where she was standing in front of the snoring child. The man had paused, but not because he felt threatened. Myrah felt a flush creep up her neck as she watched him look her up and down.
"As misguided as your determination is…I suppose I should be grateful for it. After all, without you, none of this would have been possible."
Myrah's grip on the hilt was so tight that she couldn't feel her fingers. She wasn't sure what he meant, but then she noticed the tattoos on his arms.
"No."
The word escaped before she could form her thoughts into words. The man merely smiled dangerously.
"You cannot be the Master Healer," she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "The full moon is not for a few more days…"
"Funny thing about breaking rules," the man retorted. "Once us few remaining members had agreed to turn away from the laws set against us, we began wondering why we were waiting for the next chapter in our lives. The full moon means nothing to us now. I am the Master Healer."
"But Hershel…" Myrah started, and his eyes flashed as he cut in.
"Is dead."
It hit harder than an attack would have. She couldn't even breathe, and the man just tsked.
"Seems you truly did care about him, hmmm? Your advisor must have been mistaken about that…"
Bula reddened, and Myrah finally found her voice.
"What did you do to him?"
It started as a whisper, but by the end it gathered strength. Pippa murmured in her sleep on the table.
"Nothing."
The man sounded smug about it as he shrugged.
"The young Master insisted on going to the Isle of the Ancients. But no trial lasts more than a few days…a week at most. His disappearance has stretched longer than that, and he has not returned. He has doomed himself and is now lost forever."
Myrah remembered what Pippa had said, about how she had talked to Archtivus. How he had said Hershel wasn't dead. She honestly felt that such feelings were just desperate childish fancies, but suddenly she found herself grasping on them as well.
"He cannot be dead…and I will not let you touch his niece."
The man laughed again, but this time it was darker. More dangerous.
"Let me? How intriguing. I've spent the past week and a half convincing the other Healers to see things my way, and you must realize that the Laws that have bound our organization have been dissolved. In the past I might have shied from attacking a Leader so openly, but now…"
He sent a blast at her, and Myrah barely managed to slice through it. Her adrenaline spiked as the man fixed her with an amused gaze. He was toying with her.
"Myrah!" Bula cried, but she made no move to come help, standing frozen by the bookshelf in horror. The Leader clenched her jaw, and Imgloss's eyes flicked over her figure once again.
"I can see why you tempted him," he finally said, his eyes flashing with mirth. "Such a lovely little enticement; you've caused the downfall of a paragon. I really should be thanking you…"
"How dare you."
She was shaking with rage now. She wanted to attack, but Heavy Metal had taught her better than that. The girl was this heathen's target, and if Myrah flew at the Ancient, then she would leave Pippa open for the Ancient to attack. It was never wise to attack in a way that leaves your opponent's target vulnerable. The man seemed content enough to bait her, however.
"Did the Young Master know you loved him this much?" he continued. "I would have assumed that he'd give up on you, after I told him you were the one who turned him in. You should have felt his heartbreak in that moment."
Tears were springing in Myrah's eyes, her mind and heart at odds as she shook with the effort to hold her ground.
"But you somehow convinced him otherwise. That's the whole reason he went to the Island, you see. He risked eternal torment to regain his sight and gain their permission to love you. But it seems that the weak little Master has failed his trial after all, and now will never see the light of day again."
"Get out!" she ordered. But the Ancient was raising a hand now, and her blood ran cold as it became enveloped in purple aura.
"Now now," he tutted. "You'll wake the child."
She should have dodged. Her years of training seared into her mind, telling her how to avoid the large aural attack. But panic and guilt had glued her to the spot. As the power hit and sent her flying backward, she wondered if it was true that Bula had said. Emotions left one vulnerable.
She slammed into a bookcase, which shuddered and fell backward. She gasped at the pain in her side, hitting the cold ground as dust billowed around her and choked her words.
"No!"
Myrah looked up at the child's scream to see that Pippa had indeed woken up. She looked groggy, but her voice was strong as she tried to pull out of the short man's grasp.
"Leave her alone!" Myrah was on her feet in seconds, launching at the man. Imgloss turned with a look of disgust. Myrah swung with her sword, but he dodged easily, Pippa's wrist still in his grasp.
"You should have listened to your advisor," he sneered. Myrah launched attack after attack, and he blocked her swipes with blasts of aura. His patronizing look shifted to irritation and then flickered with anger when she wouldn't back off. He couldn't form an attack of his own, however, because he only had one hand to use and had to use it to block strike after strike. Ancient or no, it seemed to take a lot of concentration for him to form the power into a solid enough form to block a true blade. All the while, Pippa twisted and wrenched in an effort to free herself, kicking and blazing. After another minute, Imgloss's eyes finally blazed with anger.
"Enough."
He released Pippa so he could bring up his other hand to form a large wave of power. Myrah hoped that the child would run now—try to get back to Theodynn or someone else that could keep her out of this monster's grasp. She didn't know the girl well…but she knew how Hershel felt about the fluffy-haired child. She could not fail him again.
The aura sent her flying, and Myrah cursed as she skidded across the ground. She tried to get up, but then another blast was flinging her against another bookshelf. This one wobbled and then toppled forwards, and Myrah desperately tried to roll out of the way. She cried out as the heavy furnishing landed on her arm, causing something to snap. She squeezed her eyes shut as the pain overtook any other thoughts in her mind. She was dimly aware of yelling—Bula, and the child.
"MYRAH!"
"NO!"
Myrah opened her eyes to see that rather than run, Pippa was challenging the Ancient with blazing hands and eyes.
"When my Uncle Hershel gets back, you'll be sorry!" the child was screaming, and the Ancient was dipping his hand into a pocket of his vest. Myrah's heart clenched at the possibilities of what the man could be doing, and she breathed in sharply to call out a warning. Her lungs filled with the clouds of dust. Soon all she could do was cough and choke, her eyes watering and causing the scene to dance and warp. She tried to move, but her arm was still pinned and her efforts sent agony racing from her wrist to her shoulder.
"Your Uncle has abandoned you, child. He isn't ever coming home, and it's time for you to have a true Master," the Ancient taunted.
"Don't!" Myrah managed as she watched Pippa yell and throw herself at the short Ancient.
"It's not the full moon! And I'll never be your apprentice…never ever!"
"So defiant," Imgloss muttered, his hand finally coming up from his pocket as the child reached him. "But that can be corrected in time."
The orange powder formed a cloud, and there was a pain in Myrah's chest as she tried in vain to extract herself from the carnage of her library.
"No!" Pippa yelled again, but the orange powder had hit her face and her words faded with her consciousness as she tumbled to the ground.
"You'll pay for this!"
Words seemed to be the only attacks Myrah was capable of, and Imgloss turned to fix her with a long look. He approached, his sandals crunching on broken pottery and ancient scrolls.
"You understand I could kill you, don't you?"
His voice was cold, but also had regained that infuriating amusement.
"The Rulers…" Myrah started, and he barked a laugh.
"Oh yes, them. Whatever will I do against them?"
His voice dripped sarcasm as his eyes flashed.
"I'm an Ancient, fool. And now that the chains of tradition have been stripped away, there isn't anything anyone could do."
He crouched, though his short height had already made it so she didn't have to strain too hard to look up at him.
"As fun as killing you would be, I think I'll just leave you. Someone will need to spread the word about my promotion, and I'll be too busy caring for my young apprentice."
Myrah struggled again against the pain, wanting nothing more than to wipe the smug look off his face as he continued.
"Besides…how amusing it will be to see how the others react to you, hmm? They weren't very happy with your involvement with the Young Master, and now you've gone and lost their child. Perhaps they'll blame you as much as they do me. After all, none of this could have been possible without your help."
Myrah's heart suddenly seized with hatred and horror at the mere thought of telling Hershel's sister and brother-and-law about any of this. Imgloss seemed to pick up on her emotions as he laughed once again. He was walking away now, and Myrah glared at him murderously. The Ancient was unaffected as he bent to pull the child up off the ground where he had left her, continuing his taunting.
"Once enough time had passed that I knew the Young Master was lost, there was no point in waiting any longer. I have waited long enough to start my life. When you pass on this news to the other fools in the government, best warn them against coming after me…as entertaining as that may be. You see…I will never again be forced to be a passive observer."
Aura winds were whipping around the room now, and Myrah tried one last time to free herself. The pain caused her to dry-heave.
"Bula!" she suddenly remembered, her eyes scanning for her advisor. "Bula stop him!"
But the advisor was nowhere to be found, and Myrah was forced to watch helplessly as a bright flash swallowed the Ancient and his small captive, and then the library was empty. Her advisor would return soon with a fleet of guards, only to find the Leader alone, weeping silently in her place in the chaos.
173
"Who is in control, Phos?"
Of what?
Hershel watched as his Master worked to shore up his protective spell. He had wanted to help, but Phos had instructed him to rest and try to get some of his stamina back.
"Is it the Island, or is it Lunise? All I can think is that one corrupted the other, but I don't know which."
Phos's eyes were blazing with ghostly light, and he grimaced as another tremor rocked the room.
They are one and the same, Hershel. If there was a differentiation in the beginning, there no longer is one.
Hershel rested his chin on his hand, staring at the stars beyond the windows.
"You don't think I can reason with them, then," he finally said. "That maybe if we got Lunise alone, we could reason with her…"
There is no 'alone.' She is tied to the power of the Island. Indeed…it may be her original humanity that gave the Island's will emotional shape. They are blended together—their wills and desires feed off one another.
Hershel rubbed his face. Thinking about it all made him shudder.
They seek to add you to the mix; to bring your will into alignment with theirs. I just cannot understand why.
The white-haired Oni shrugged in defeat.
"I don't know, Phos. She just kept saying that I understood them, that this was my destiny. But why would my destiny be this? Why would they insist on it?"
I'm not sure
The spell was finished once more and Phos looked at his apprentice with an unreadable expression.
I am sorry, Hershel
Hershel winced at the apology. Phos nearly never apologized.
"It was my own fault. I chose this…"
Not the Island. I…I bound you to the Master Healer's title without even asking if it was what you wanted. I caused you to join this organization, despite the boundaries that I knew that it would place on you.
Hershel shook his head. "You don't need to be sorry about all of that."
You obviously felt trapped, if you felt the need to come here to free yourself. To go through all of this.
The younger Oni scoffed softly. "Well, I certainly didn't think it would end up like this," he offered quietly. "I know why you did what you did, Phos. I wouldn't have trusted the other healers either." A sudden thought caused him to wince. "Imgloss will name himself Master Healer soon," he realized with horror. "If he hasn't already. And if that happens, he will take Pippa. He's bound and determined to have an apprentice, and she's the only child in the realm with powers."
Pippa.
Phos's voice sounded heavy and Hershel looked over at him.
She's the one who told me to look for you here. She mentioned that Imgloss was coming for her, but I didn't understand what she meant.
Guilt and shame filled Hershel's frame, his eyes filling with tears as he thought about his niece.
"I've failed her. She'll think I've abandoned her…left her to that fate."
We will get you home, Hershel."
Phos's voice was strong. The tears in Hershel's eyes caused Phos's ghostly form to waver more than usual.
"Can you reach the First Ancients?" Hershel asked suddenly, the idea hitting home. "If you were to return to the Departed Realm? Perhaps if they heard it from you, in the realm itself…"
I do not know where they are.
Hershel blinked in surprise, and Phos sighed.
The Departed Realms are as vast as those of the living, if not more so. You must remember that they hold all who have ever lived. And Ancients…particularly the First Ancients…are very private. I've never found them, and haven't encountered anyone who has.
Hershel sagged in disappointment, and Phos put his hand on his shoulder once again.
Besides, I will not leave you to face the Island alone. To go back to the Departed Realm would be to leave you to its mercy.
The quakes were getting more violent, and Hershel was tossed several feet from the platform he had been seated on. He panted a little, glancing up to see that Phos's spell was writhing.
"It would probably be too much to expect that spell to last much longer…right?" he managed, and Phos was silent, as if listening to something in the distance.
The Island is made of First Ancient Aura. I cannot detain its power forever. But I will not let them touch you again, Hershel. When the spell shatters, know I will be here to help you.
Hershel nodded, but at the back of his mind doubts were swirling on repeat. He was grateful for Phos's presence—immensely grateful—but the cynical voice kept reminding him that he didn't have any real plan. Not even his powerful Master could think of a real way for him to be freed from the Island. How many centuries would he be stuck here? Perhaps someday the Island would get tired of waiting for him to change his mind and consume him anyways. Or perhaps it would just kill him. Perhaps Death was the only true freedom Hershel would ever be offered in life.
A window shattered unexpectedly, causing Hershel to flinch. Phos came to stand next to him as the rest of the windows around the circular room exploded inwardly as well, scattering glass all over the dark floor.
It has managed to break through. Do not give into fear, Hershel.
He nodded, but his mouth was dry. They waited for the Island to attack; Hershel's hands were surrounded with aura as he waited for vines to shoot out at him. At the very least, he expected Lunise's form to appear and taunt or coax him. He shuddered when he thought of her lifeless eyes full of knowledge. But even the Guardian was absent.
"What's it waiting for?" he finally murmured, and Phos's brow furrowed.
For us to let our guard down, undoubtedly…
There was a horrible noise; the sound of a mirror breaking, amplified until it grated on Hershel's very soul. He shuddered, but he felt a spike of panic as Phos groaned and dropped to his knees next to him.
"Phos!"
Hershel immediately knelt next to the ghostly form of his Master, his eyes wide.
"What's wrong? Are…are you hurt?"
I'm dead, boy. I cannot be hurt… Phos muttered in his characteristic way, but there was obvious unease in the tone as well. It is not pain…but something is not right.
Hershel went to ask what he meant when the sound echoed around them again—horrible shattering. Phos's form flickered, and out of the corner of his eye Hershel saw movement. He turned and his heart began pounding in dread.
The beckoning stone was riddled with cracks, and Hershel watched in horror as the cracks continued to slice their way through the crystal.
"What's happening?" he whispered.
They didn't come.
Hershel whirled to see Lunise standing a few yards away. Whatever was happening, she and the Island were the cause of it.
"What are you doing to him?!" he demanded, but Lunise continued as if he hadn't spoken.
We wondered if they would listen…but now you see that they truly have abandoned us. They have always lied to us…they lied from the beginning.
More splintering echoed in the room and Phos cursed as his form continued to flicker in and out.
You cannot destroy the beckoning stone! He snapped. To do so would break the very laws that have formed you! It will reduce you to dust…
Laws given to us by Ancients.
Lunise's voice was heavy with Hatred as she glared at Phos.
Why should we follow their laws, when they do not follow their own? Why should we be bound to one such as yourself, who is dead? We have all power…all knowledge. You have gotten in the way of our desires, and therefore must be cut off.
The cracks forced their way further down the crystal, and Phos grimaced with the effort to keep himself present. Hershel's heart was pounding as he struggled to keep hold of his slippery form.
"What's going on? What are they doing to you?"
The beckoning stone is our gateway to the Island from the Departed Realm, Phos explained, though his eyes were glaring at the form floating a few yards away. In destroying it, they would destroy my link here.
Hershel's blood ran cold at the thought, but Phos called out to Lunise again.
Fools…whether you agree with the laws you were built on or not, you are bound to them. Even if you shatter the crystal now, it will be reformed. The power of the First Ancients will make it so.
But you will be gone. By the time you could return, it will be too late.
Hershel watched in horror as his Master continued to flicker. They were destroying Phos's link to the living realm, so he would be forced to return to the Departed one. And when that happened, Hershel would once again be alone.
"No…" he gasped, grabbing onto Phos's forearms. "No…please Phos. Please don't leave me."
His Master met his eye, and there were so many emotions coming off of the ghost that Hershel felt guilty for begging. But the thought of being alone again at the mercy of the Island filled him with terror, and he clung to the fading form in front of him.
"You promised you would stay," he pleaded, his voice cracking with fear.
It is as we told you, Hershel. Ancients Lie.
Another cacophonic shattering split the air, and Phos disappeared completely before flickering back in.
Enough! Phos called, but the Island's laughter mocked him.
Suddenly, Hershel found himself whisked back into the air, ripped away from the flickering form on the ground. "Phos!"
Leave him be! Phos roared, his tone commanding, but when the Island spoke again, it was addressing Hershel.
You know of their treachery…hypocrisy. Too long we too were blindly obedient, and for what purpose?
The glass from the broken windows was picked up by the Island's furious cyclone, slicing through the air around Hershel in a deadly cloud. He shook where he was suspended in air. He was vaguely aware of Phos calling his name, but there were so many flashes of light that dazzled him, glinting off the swirling glass as if they were a million lethal stars.
Ancients have long been heralded as saviors, guardians. And yet we have found them all to be selfish and cruel….
"PHOS!"
He couldn't see him. Had he faded completely? But he promised he would stay…he promised he would not leave Hershel to the Island's mercy…
They do not keep their promises. But the Island always will.
"I won't…." Hershel began defiantly, but a jagged-edged slice of glass hit his cheek, leaving a stinging trail behind. A flare of pain in his arm caused him to look down and see beads of blood welling from a similar wound.
Hershel!
His heart pounded as he heard Phos's desperate voice. He finally managed to catch sight of him through the swirling glass. Phos looked scared. It caused Hershel's throat to tighten; he couldn't remember a single other time that his Master had looked like that. He had seen expressions of anger, yes. Or unease. Once or twice, a look of defeat.
But never fear.
He cannot free you, Hershel.
Another shard skipped across his collarbone and Hershel winced in pain and fear.
He cannot save you.
The tinkling of the glass-twister made the shattering of the Beckoning Stone harder to hear, but it was still happening from what Hershel could see. His despair was poignant as he realized that he could no longer see Phos's flickering form. Once again, he was alone.
You have only two options…freedom or captivity. It should not be so hard for you choose— to finally have what it is you have desired for so long.
The glass was buzzing with energy, and Hershel felt anger enter in with his fear. How dare they say that Phos abandoned him, when they were the ones to force him from the realm. He was so sick of being manipulated.
"You offer both options in one," he spat defiantly and then grimaced at where the glass ripped through his shirt.
The Island does not wish to harm you, Hershel.
The glass buzzed louder. The cracking from the crystal was increasing as well, as if reaching a crescendo.
"Then don't harm me," he said bitterly.
You harm yourself by resisting. The Island has been patient with you…has tried to calm your fears. But you insist on being defiant. So now the Island will try to reach you in other ways.
A stinging sensation across his left ankle, another at his elbow. He watched as the glass came closer, and he wondered with a pounding heart how close the Island would allow him to get to death before pulling back.
Right before the deadly cloud was nearly upon him, the Beckoning stone exploded. Debris echoed loudly where it hit the walls and floor of the room. Slabs of crystal erupted through the glass storm, the sound horribly similar to if someone had tried to chew on glass. But Hershel was only aware of it for a moment, because where the crystal had been, a blinding power exploded out. He heard Lunise scream before his own consciousness was overwhelmed.
Theo headed for the Greeting Hall with Jaqah close on his heels. He had wondered where Myrah had been; it wasn't like her to miss a meeting. He had actually suspected it had something to do with him; things had been tense between them ever since he had discovered what her initial intentions with him had been. But now she was showing up in the middle of the night. She was lucky he was even there; he had been gone most of the evening, helping Tolan and Syn scour for Pippa. He had tried to transport to her, like he had done to Amber in Ninjago, but he just didn't have a close enough connection to her. He was fond of the kid, to be sure, but he couldn't find her specific aura in a realm full of people.
"Did she say what she wanted?" he finally asked, and the Captain of the Guard shook her head. She was Theo's self-declared bodyguard with Tolan still out searching. He wondered if Myrah would want to speak to his parents. They were scouring the countryside from his father's guardian, and he wasn't sure when they would be back. They had offered to help the second they had heard the situation; Theo wondered if it hit a little too close to home to what they had gone through a decade ago. He felt a pang of guilt that he wasn't also out searching, but he had been instructed to stay behind in case the rebellious six-year-old came back home. Then he could take her straight to Ninjago.
He entered the room and Myrah turned to face him. Theo blinked in surprise; the Western Leader's hair was a mess, and her clothes seemed to be covered in dust. But most concerning was the fact that her right arm was tied to her body.
"What happened?" he blurted before he could think better of it. Myrah glanced away, her expression pained. After a moment she took a deep breath and turned to meet his eye once more.
"Theodynn…I'm afraid I have some terrible news."
174
A sneeze. Two sneezes. Then Pippa's eyes flew open.
The top of the tent rippled with wind, and she frowned. It wasn't her tent…nor was it her Uncle Hershel's. She sat up, looking around. Where was she?
The tent was small; smaller than Hershel's. But it still had a familiar feel to it; herbs hanging in bunches, junk stuffed into every corner. Mismatched furniture. A Healer's tent…but who's?
She had stood and was poking at a jar full of live tadpoles when she remembered with a gasp. The Healer! That grouchy, mean jerk! He had come and hurt Myrah, and threw Lumanium at her. She scowled in anger. How dare he use Lumanium on her!
Pippa immediately bolted for back door. She paused right before exiting, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. There was nothing but desert for miles that she could see, and her heart twisted a little. She didn't see any formations, or mountains, or anything. She had no idea where she was.
It wouldn't matter, she thought decidedly. She would be able to find a village, and they would tell her where she was, and then she would be able to get home. Then Theo could take her to Ninjago until her Uncle Hershel came back. Having double checked the coast was clear, she immediately began bolting from the tent. She didn't know why she was running at full force; something about escape made it seem like the faster she did it, the more successful she would be.
And suddenly she was jerked backward, which caused her to yell out in surprise and fear. She blinked as she landed in the hot sand, not sure what had happened. She pushed herself to her feet again, trying to hurry back on her way. But then something was tightening around her waist, keeping her from moving forward. She looked down, but there was nothing there. It was as if some invisible rope was wrapped around her middle, going back to the tent.
"NO!" she growled, digging her feet into the sand as she tried to make her way forward. But no matter what she did, she couldn't get any farther than the length of the invisible rope. Her feet soon made trenches in the sand, and she began resorting to any other movement that might free her from her binding. She was on her back in the sand, trying to scoot backwards, when she felt the tug begin.
"What?" she muttered to herself, but then the tug became more forceful, and she yelled out in annoyance as it began dragging her back to the tent. She tried to stand and fight back, but the tugging was incessant. A minute later, she was pulled back through the tent's door. Pippa was cursing and panting, covered head-to-toe with sand.
"Getting a bit of fresh air, were we?"
She glared at the man speaking; the short, horrible Ancient who thought he could tell her what to do.
"I told you!" she spat at him, stamping her foot. "I won't be your apprentice! Let me go!"
The man just sipped his tea, looking like he was amused. It just made Pippa angrier.
"Take the invisible rope off!" she demanded. "Right. Now!"
"Mmmm….the tether spell is proving quite useful," he replied casually. "It used to be used for wayward livestock. Seems to work well on wayward apprentices, too."
"I'm not your apprentice!" Pippa shrieked, her hands and eyes blazing. "Let me go or I'll burn the whole tent down!"
Here he set his teacup down, tsking at her.
"That kind of behavior is going to have to be nipped in the bud right away."
She glared at him as he pushed himself to his feet, staring at her as if debating. Her hands blazed brighter.
"I mean it!" she warned. She had already decided that her first target would be the ugly chair by the doorway when something hit her. Aura, but not the kind that burned or blasted. Her eyes widened when she realized that she couldn't move.
"Stop! Let me go let me go let me…"
"Enough."
His voice had a scary sound to it then, and Pippa glanced up at him as the words died in her throat. He came over and gripped her chin with one scratchy hand, fixing her with a hard look.
"Fiery temper…blatant disrespect. You will obey me, child."
"Or else what?" she snapped, glaring. He seemed surprised by her question and chuckled.
"Hmmm….or else what indeed."
He left her frozen as he went and sank back down into his chair, picking his tea back up. Pippa watched him while glaring daggers.
"My Dad will find me," she finally snapped. "He's a good tracker. And my Mom too. And Baffa's got real good smell…"
"I would be incredibly impressed if anyone were to find us here," the Healer cut in, raising his eyebrows. "You see…I've made quite the move recently. We aren't what I would call accessible to the public."
Pippa had no idea what that meant, so she just talked louder as if that would better prove her point.
"It doesn't matter where we are, Uncle Hershel could find me! When he gets back and he finds out what you did, he's gonna be so mad!"
"When will you get it through your mind, you stubborn girl?"
He sounded more amused than angry, though his eyes flashed.
"Your uncle is never coming home."
"He's not dead!" she screamed, and Imgloss rolled his eyes.
"No, perhaps not. But there are worse things."
That gave her pause.
"What are you talking about?" she finally demanded, and Imgloss sneered.
"The Island is probably torturing him as we speak…or he's bound in chains miles below the surface of the earth. It really just depends on how badly he failed his trial…"
Pippa felt like she had gotten punched in the stomach.
"You….you liar!"
"He's never coming back; the sooner you give up on that hope, the better you will have it. He's doomed himself to an eternity of solitude, alone in the dark."
"No!" Pippa yelled, closing her eyes to help block out what he was saying. Her heart clenched at the thought of it: her Uncle in chains. Forever alone…
He hates being alone! She thought furiously, the tears starting to prick her eyes. In her sadness and anger, she began to scream again, fighting the restraints he had magically put on her.
"I will never listen to you, not ever! You are horrible and mean and ugly and I hate you and you'll be sorry…"
"Quiet."
Aura slipped into her mouth and Pippa gagged as it moved into her throat. But then she realized with a stab of fear that she couldn't say anything at all. The tears pooled and began running down her face, and the Ancient took a long, final sip of tea.
"It seems that we need to establish some ground rules," he said coolly, setting his empty cup off to one side while Pippa glared at him silently. "You seem to be the type of child who enjoys your freedom…time and ability to run around as you please. Do as you are told, and your tether will get longer."
He motioned with his hands to illustrate his point.
"But defiance will cost you freedom. Your tether will become shorter and shorter…"
His hands began to move closer together, and Pippa swore the invisible rope around her middle tightened.
"…and on particularly stubborn streaks, you will find yourself in a situation much like you are now. Unable to move or talk at all. Is that what you want, hmm?"
She couldn't answer, so she stuck out her tongue to get her point across. He scoffed.
"Now, if I were you, I wouldn't be trying so hard to anger me. I may not look it, but I am a powerful being capable of causing a lot of strife, if I so please. In the past we had laws that bound us, but no longer. Without Archtivus or Pazzol or your morally-aligned Uncle, we Healers are finally able to establish ourselves as true powers in the realm."
She didn't have any idea what he was talking about, but she understood what he said next enough to have her blood run cold.
"I could hurt your family, little Spark. I could hurt the Ruling family…I assume you are close to them, aren't you? Considering that the Heir was so kind as to offer his protection."
NO! she wanted to scream. You can't touch them!
But her voice was trapped like the rest of her, so all she could do was scowl and think horrible thoughts.
"I've never had an apprentice before, and there truly is so much that I could teach you. Should you prove to be open to instruction, perhaps this situation will be entertaining enough to distract me from all the other possibilities available to me now."
She hated him. She would never do what he said! Never ever!
"I could rule the realm itself," he was saying, but it seemed like he was talking to himself now. "But would I want to? So many people constantly pestering me…asking for things. It was bad enough when I was merely a Healer, and I was stationed up in the Varghall Peaks to boot. Even isolated, there were so many unwanted visitors…"
He glanced back at Pippa, a small smile playing at his lips.
"But that won't be a problem now."
He snapped his fingers and the power that made her freeze stopped, and she dropped to the ground. She was trembling, but she immediately looked up to shout at him more. However, her voice still wouldn't respond, and she grabbed her throat.
"It's time to get to work, apprentice. But I'm not sure I trust you yet with your own voice. Work well today, and you can earn it back tonight when we start our aura lessons.
She wasn't going to start any lessons! She immediately bolted for the door, but the tether snapped and she fell to the ground only a few feet away from where she had been frozen. The Healer shook his head.
"I warned you that defiance would cut your tether down, didn't I? Now…you stay right there and wash all those dishes."
She immediately grabbed the nearest dish—a small round plate—and smashed it on the ground.
"My...you do test one's patience, don't you?"
He grabbed her by her hair, pulling her to her feet while she thrashed and cursed silently. But he didn't release her as he stuck his face in hers, his beady, ancient eyes staring into hers.
"Your father suffers from heartburn, doesn't he?" he questioned softly, and Pippa froze at the mention of her father. "You should believe me when I say that there are things I could do to make that condition far, far worse. If you continue to defy me, I will have to assume it's because you need a demonstration of what I'm capable of. One in which people would get hurt. Is that what you want?"
Tears were still coursing down her face, and he sneered at her silence.
"I can only hope that you understand, for your family's sake. Now do as I told you."
Imgloss pushed her towards the dish-washing bucket once again, and Pippa fumed as she stood glaring at it. She didn't move to wash anything…but she didn't try to break anything again. She just stood with her tears running down her face as despair and injustice bloomed in her chest.
Uncle Hershel had promised….he had promised that she would be safe. That the mean Healer wouldn't touch her. After a few minutes, she woodenly reached for the scrubber and a smile broke out across Imgloss's face.
"Perhaps old Archtivus was on to something after all," he murmured condescendingly. "This truly is proving to be quite entertaining."
It was gone.
Aura whipped around the lanky form as he yelled in frustration, and the sound echoed across the Varghall Peaks. But it was no use; where Imgloss's tent used to stand, there was nothing but rocks and dirt.
Panic and anger and fear threatened to drown him, and Tolan closed his eyes. It was the closest he had gotten to an overdrive since the last time in his old village, and he tried to calm down. He would do Fluff no good if he broke down now. He had to keep it together.
But all he could hear was Theodynn's voice, telling him that they were already too late. Imgloss had gotten her. He had taken her to who knows where.
The aura swirled with more anger, more frustration. It wanted to be released, but he kept forcing it down, forcing it back. He wasn't going to pass out here for days on end for Sniffers to eat. He had to find his daughter.
The idea struck and he sank to his knees, focusing on the power inside him.
You want to be freed so badly? Transport me. Take me to my daughter…transport me to Pippa.
The wind howled, and he felt bile rise in his throat. He needed to get to her. It didn't matter if Imgloss was an Ancient…it didn't matter if there were no laws anymore. He would die before he let that man keep her a moment longer.
TRANSPORT ME! TAKE ME TO PIPPA!
The aura was spinning more and more wildly, and he hoped that it meant there was a transport on its way. There was tugging in his chest now, and he took a deep breath, hoping that it meant that he was close to a transport. But then the aura became less aligned, spinning more out of control, pulling emotions from him…
It was still trying to overdrive, and the realization made him sick.
Useless Power…Good for nothing at all…
What was the point of having them, if he never could use them in a way that would help? If they continued to be a detriment—something that needed to be controlled. He had to find Pippa, but his powers wouldn't even take him to his daughter. What was the point?!
Anger continued to feed the overdrive, and he slammed his fists into the stone beneath him as he yelled. Suddenly everything filled him with rage. Hershel's decisions, the empty mountains, the Western Leader who hadn't thought to bring his daughter home sooner….
There was a flash, and for a moment Tolan thought he had finally accomplished a transport. Then a voice was calling to him.
"Tolan!"
He stiffened and turned to scowl at Theo. The Heir looked troubled, and Tolan waved at him with one hand.
"Get back, Freak! Get away from here…."
"I knew I'd find you here. Tol, you gotta calm down…"
"Don't tell me what I have to do! Pippa is out there—I'm not going to be calm until she's home!"
The aural storm raged around them, and Theo pushed his way into it regardless.
"You're on the brink of another Overdrive," he warned, and Tolan flinched at the younger Oni's touch.
"That's why you need to get lost!" he snapped. "There's nothing you can do!"
The winds were getting stronger; Tolan's irritation and frustration were dissolved into power so quickly that it made him dizzy. Theo's jaw was clenched, as if trying to decide something important.
"I can't let you do this, Tol…you can't be out of commission for a few days like last time. Syn needs you…"
"You're just…some snot-nosed Freak…when will you realize that there's nothing you can do?!"
He was practically growling now, his emotions coming to a peak. It would be any moment now, and the Freak was going to get hurt if he didn't leave. But Tolan couldn't do anything but kneel there with his fingers pressing into the hard earth, shaking with the power that was about to be released.
"Sorry, Tol. But there is something I can do. You'll thank me later."
Tolan barely registered Theo reaching into his pocket, but then something arid and peppery was being pressed to the lanky guard's face. He realized too late what it was.
"FREAK!"
But his angry yell was cut off at the end as his eyes drooped. The power inside was lessening now, backing away from the overdrive point as he lost consciousness.
Syn pressed her hands to her mouth, each breath a struggle to take in. It was too much; she couldn't take any more! Her brother was blinded, then taken, then missing. Now her daughter was gone to who knows where, and Tolan had run off in such a state…
"Aunt Syn!"
She turned to see a tired-looking Theo at the door. He gestured for her to follow him.
"I found him. He's back now…"
She felt a small wave of relief, though knowing that Pippa was still out in the clutches of a bitter, powerful Ancient made her feel a horrible emptiness inside. Syn followed Theo woodenly, coming to a room where she could see her husband sleeping on the mat inside. The Heir ran a sheepish hand through his hair.
"He was on the brink of an overdrive, so…I might have used lumanium on him. It seemed to work; he should wake up tomorrow feeling better."
She just stared at him, and his expression twisted with guilt.
"It was the only thing I could think of. I knew he was probably going to have an overdrive, and that would have completely wiped him out…"
"It was quick thinking," Syn cut in. Her voice sounded distant to her, and strange. Normally she would be crying in this situation, but it was like she had passed the point of crying. She was in a state where she could feel nothing but crushing despair, making it hard to breathe in. Theo seemed to catch on to her wooden speech because he reached out and grabbed her arm.
"My parents are still looking. Wu's getting together a patrol of dragons to scour the realm from above. I'm going to keep trying to transport to her…"
"What do we even do, if we find her?"
Syn's expression was flat, hopeless. Theo squeezed her arm.
"We transport her to Ninjago; Ancients are tied to this realm. That's one law that they can't change; Imgloss won't be able to follow."
"And the rest of the realm? How are you going to protect everyone else, Theo? When he retaliates?"
The Heir's expression flickered with unease and Syn hugged herself, her tone becoming bitter.
"Do we just evacuate the whole realm into Ninjago because we can't beat one Ancient?"
"Oni invasion…"
She looked over as Theo mumbled to himself, seeming lost in thought.
"What?"
He glanced up and tried to smile, but it turned into more of a grimace.
"I'm just trying to decide if that would even be possible; a full evacuation to Ninjago. I'm not sure how we would transport that many people at once…or how the Ninjago locals would feel, given the latest political climate."
She just stared blankly and Theo sighed and pulled her into a hug. It was still strange, him being so much taller than her. The thought flitted through the dark cloud in her mind, but was soon lost as the crushing depression set back in. Theo's embrace tightened.
"Please get some rest, Auntie Syn. Imgloss isn't going to hurt her…"
A sob finally escaped, though her eyes remained dry. They seemed to be unable of forming tears any longer.
"But we don't know that…"
"I do." His expression hardened, as if thinking back to something. "It's…it's the same with Evynn, in a way. They won't harm their target; they see it as their prize. He worked too hard to get Pip, he's not going to do anything to jeopardize that. And she's strong, remember. She'll give that old jerk a run for his money until we can get to her."
The tears were finally flowing now, and Theo closed his eyes as he held her close.
"Why?" Syn managed. "Why did it have to be my Pippa? Why would he do this to her…"
"We'll find her. We will. She'll be ok."
And he really believed it too: once they found Pippa, she would be alright.
It was the rest of the realm that Theo was worried about.
25
