Fantasy Island and all associated characters (except mine and MagicSwede1965's) are owned by Spelling-Goldberg Productions, Columbia Pictures Television, Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. All persons described herein are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. Copyright infringement is not intended.

Chapter 7: Search for Resources

7 June 2014

Laughter was the order of the evening as the five friends sat around the table, enjoying their monthly session of role-playing. At this particular moment, Andrea's knight character was having a difference of opinion with Ethan's archer after their group had killed a band of brigands.

"Don't impose your morality on me," Ethan said. "Let's just go before more enemies show up."

Andrea pointed out, "Enemies or not, these people deserve a decent burial first. I thought even you might understand that."

Frustrated, Ethan made a 'time-out' sign with his hands before turning to Karl. "Can we have a character ruling from the Game Master?" He pointed to the sheet in front of him. "Chaotic."

Also making the 'time-out' sign, Andrea said, "You're Chaotic Good, aren't you?"

"Yes, but you," Ethan retorted, "are interpreting yours too strictly. It's supposed to be Lawful Good, not Lawful Stupid."

The other two players, Kaitlyn and Marie, burst into giggles.

Grinning, Karl said, "I'll have to go with Ethan on this one. Move on, please."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Fine," she grumbled before clearing her throat and going back into her character. "At least let's straighten the bodies and fold their hands. Then their fate will go as it will."

The rest of the players agreed to that, and the adventure moved forward.

As Karl was describing what their group was about to encounter next, Andrea suddenly felt the sensation of pressure begin in the back of her head. It wasn't a tension headache – she'd had those before – but the effect of someone trying to contact her telepathically but not quite 'tuning in'. She lowered her habitual block a bit to be able to receive more clearly, and heard Roarke's voice as if from an extreme distance, tinged with surprise and desperation.

'Andrea, come to me!'

Just as abruptly, his touch was gone.

'Roarke!' she called, but received only silence. Wherever he was, it was too far for her telepathy to reach. Stunned, she realized several things in that instant: that his mental call was strong enough to reach her here, something very bad had happened to him, and whatever it was had taken him completely off guard. Her heart contracted painfully. She needed to tell his family at once.

"Andrea, it's your turn," Karl prodded. "What's your character doing?"

"Um…" She had to come up with some excuse. Quickly pulling her cellphone out of her purse, she looked at the time. It would be mid-afternoon on the island right now. "I need to make a call, could you please give me a few minutes?" Without waiting for a response, she rose from the table and went into the next room to place an intercontinental call, not caring about what the charges would be.

The call was picked up after several rings. "Main house," said Leslie's voice.

"Mrs. Enstad, this is Andrea Trenton," she said. After what had happened a few days ago, she thought it would be best to be cordial even though she was itching to spill everything.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, and then Leslie said, "What can I do for you, Ms. Trenton?" Her voice was cool and professional.

"Please let me apologize for the other day," she began. "More importantly, I'm calling because I've reason to believe that something has happened to Roarke. Have you any way of reaching him?"

"Yes, but how can I know you're telling the truth?"

It was a fair question. "You can't, but if you trust your father, then please try. I'll be there within the hour, and then I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"Okay, then. We'll expect you." Leslie hung up.

Andrea went back to the game table, where the others were patiently waiting. "I'm sorry guys, I have to go. Family emergency. You can keep playing if you want."

Karl stared. "Since when have you ever walked out of a game?" he asked, bewildered.

"There's always a first time," she said apologetically as she gathered her game books and papers and stuffed them into her backpack. "It's important, and if I stayed, I'd be too worried to enjoy myself."

Kaitlyn offered, "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"No thank you, I can manage." She swung her backpack on and shoved her feet into her shoes. "You all have a good evening." Amid their goodbyes, she left.

The moment she was outside, instead of heading for the nearest bus stop as she usually would, she ducked into a deserted alley between two buildings. She was about to break some of her own rules, but it was for Roarke. After calling upon her elemental aspect, she teleported directly to her home.

Dumping the contents of her backpack onto her bed, she quickly repacked it with changes of clothing and a few other items that she felt that would come in handy – it was the island's winter season and she wasn't currently dressed for it. Then she prowled around the place, taking precautions such as moving perishables from the fridge to the freezer, unplugging electronics, and ensuring that the security system was engaged. She didn't know how long she'd be absent.

The last thing she did was to look at a clock and commit the current time to memory.

As soon as Leslie put down the phone, she considered what Andrea had said, and then decided to try calling her father. It couldn't hurt. She closed her eyes and brought his image into her mind. 'Father, can you hear me? Please come.' The best way she could interpret the feeling that she got back was not a 'cosmic busy signal' like she'd had a number of times before, but akin to the message 'your call cannot be completed as dialed'. Her blood suddenly turned cold. Had Ms. Trenton been right?

She grabbed her cellphone and sent texts to Christian, Rogan, and Delphine, asking them to convene at the main house as soon as they could. It was a Saturday, and they were all busy with the weekend fantasies, but if her father was in trouble, they needed to know.

When Andrea arrived at Coral Beach, her usual anchor point, she put the backpack aside and refocused. She'd indulged herself long enough. It was past time to gather her resources and muster her allies, to keep her promise to Roarke as well as determine what had happened to him.

She stood in the middle of the beach and concentrated on the entity that she wanted to summon. There was a high probability that he wouldn't answer, but it was better to try than not. Much sooner than she'd expected, she felt a tremor in space-time and a portal opened in front of her, from which an imposing figure emerged.

The man was tall and muscular, wearing a sheer black bodysuit with silver across the shoulders, and a mane of white-silver hair cascading down his back. "You can't be serious," he said gruffly by way of greeting as the portal closed. "I'm a very busy spirit, Elemental, and you call me to this backwater?"

"It was either that, or track you down and potentially find you in a problematic situation," she riposted calmly. "I have more respect for you than you give me credit for, Spellfire."

"Don't patronize me," he grumbled. "What do you want?"

"Would you please tell me if you find any planar breaches during your travels? I need a spark."

That got his full attention. "You call me away from a conference with some Elder Gods to ask for help on a fool's errand?"

"If helping someone makes me a fool, then yes. Is that too much of an imposition?"

Spellfire snorted in disdain. "If I do find a breach, I might decide to seal it just to spite you."

"Holding a grudge against me for something that was unpredictable is hardly fair," she told him.

"All right!" he shouted. "Why is this so important to you, anyway?"

She paused before answering with one word: "Love."

A smile gradually crept across his face, and then he said, "So, the inimitable time-wielder has found her heart again. I never thought I'd see that happen."

"Just don't bandy it about."

The spirit guffawed. "I might be many of the things that you think of me, but I'm not stupid. Very well, I shall notify you of anything I might find. But you owe me for the next one." He backed up a few steps, bowed, and then disappeared through a portal.

With that task underway, she reverted to her human form and made a quick stop at the room that she was given the use of while she was here. She wanted to change into more suitable clothing. Even though the June temperatures here were comparable to those of her hometown, there was still enough of a variance that she had to be prepared for it.

She arrived in the office at the main house to see Roarke's family along with a slim middle-aged woman with close-cut hair and a dignified mien. "Good afternoon, everyone," she said politely, but with some urgency. "Thanks for meeting with me." Rogan still looked somewhat hostile, which was to be expected, but it was the strange woman's penetrating stare that gave Andrea the creeps. She could easily tell by the vibes the woman was emanating that she was a reasonably powerful member of one of the clans that Roarke had told her of.

"This is the young one who has been occupying Leader's attention?" the woman asked calmly.

A bit contritely, Leslie said, "This is Father's colleague; we call her Blue."

Andrea nodded a greeting, refusing to take umbrage at Blue's implied insult. "I suppose I could be considered 'young' to a clan member, but let's not argue. I'm here because Roarke is in danger, and I intend to do something about it. I only thought it right to let his family know."

Blue said, "Young Leslie attempted to call me after her call to Leader went unanswered. When I investigated, I discovered that he wasn't in his chambers or any of the places that he frequents. It was soon afterward that I received news that certain entities were missing from the prison where they should've been."

Leslie gasped in horror, and Christian drew himself up to his full royal height. "Do you mean to tell us that those rogues escaped somehow?" he demanded.

"What about that chief goon?" asked Rogan pointedly.

"Lavender, the one to whom you refer as 'chief goon' is still in custody," replied Blue primly. "There will be no escape for him. But the other three clearly had outside help. It's possible that they recruited others to their cause, or there was a traitor in our midst who waited for the opportunity to act."

Andrea had trouble following at first, until she remembered what Roarke had told her about some members of the Tribunal having abdicated. These seemed to be known by some colour code, given that Blue went by such an appellation. "Are there any theories as to where Roarke might've been taken?"

"None at this time," said Blue. "And the Realms is so large that an extensive search would potentially take many weeks." She turned her disconcerting gaze upon Andrea again. "How were you the one to know of Leader's difficulty before any of us?"

"He called me telepathically," she said, and awe crossed the faces of all assembled. "It surprised me too, because I had no idea that he was so powerful. Or perhaps his realization of imminent peril caused his ability to be enhanced, which has been known to happen even among humans."

"Before we go any further," Leslie interjected, "who are you, really? You promised us an explanation."

"I did," Andrea acquiesced with a sigh. "I'll repeat some of what I told you when we first met, since Ms. Blue likely doesn't know, and I'd appreciate it if this were kept confidential." She sent a meaningful glance at Blue; she really hadn't wanted to reveal this to any of Roarke's people, but at the moment there was no choice. "My full name is Andrea Doreen Trenton and I'm from Kingston, Canada. I host within my body a spirit known as an elemental that grants me certain powers. In my youth I came here to be trained by Mr. Roarke, and subsequently I became a capable entity in my own right."

"I've read about elementals; they're magical creatures," said Delphine.

Blue commented dryly, "What are termed as the classic elements of matter are based merely on human occultism and superstition."

"That's true," Andrea agreed, "but the concept tends to evoke a visceral reaction, which is one of the reasons why these spirits manifest as such. Also, depending on the host's nature and particular beliefs, many more effects can be evoked than just the classic four of water, earth, fire, and air. Mine, for instance. In my elemental aspect I'm known by many names across this planet and elsewhere, which loosely translate as 'winder of hours' or 'time wielder'."

Christian's brow furrowed upon hearing this. "Time isn't an element, it's a dimension."

"It's both," Andrea corrected. "But we're not here for a scientific debate. You asked me who I am: I'm a time elemental. I hope that answer is satisfactory."

There was a short period of stunned silence before Delphine whispered, "You look human."

"So do you," countered Andrea gently. "You all possess powers that no human does, and yes," she smiled at the startled looks, "I've known that since I first arrived. The difference is that I appear this way by choice, until circumstances require otherwise. Very few have observed me assume my elemental form, and I'm not in the habit of doing so casually. Now, let's please get to the matter at hand. What we need to do now is pool our resources and come up with a plan to find Roarke."

Andrea yawned as she walked up the path to the front door of the brightly painted, high-roofed house in a suburb of Stockholm. The discussions with the family had lasted into the dinner hour, upon which time Leslie had insisted that they take a break and have a meal. After fortifying herself on the excellent dishes that had been prepared by the family's chef, she'd elected to consult more of her allies.

Here it was early morning of the following day and the summer sun shone. Was this the right thing to do? Having been retired for so long now it hardly seemed fair to disturb any of the others. It had been years since she'd been here, or had even contacted the home's owner. Ingrid Bystrom was an old friend: one of the elemental hosts who'd once worked with her and had been a pillar of their team.

The door opened before Andrea reached it, and there stood a shapely woman with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that looked like they could see into one's soul.

"Herregud, Andrea!" the woman exclaimed excitedly, and grabbed her in a hug. "Välkommen!"

"Hej, min vän," she greeted in a mixture of joy and relief.

Switching to English, Ingrid said, "Come, come, my friend," and ushered her into the house. "Let me make some tea and we can speak, although I can guess why you're here." She led Andrea into a small but well-appointed kitchen, and brought out a kettle along with a plate of small pastries. "Mikel, Petra, we have a visitor!" she called as Andrea sat in a nook at one end of the room.

"I'm sorry to bother you so early," Andrea said.

Ingrid waved her hand dismissively. "Nonsense, you're always welcome. And I sense that you have a tale to tell us."

Just then a brown-haired, slightly wan man entered the room, and Andrea started as she recognized him. "Michael?!"

He held out his hand with a warm smile that belied the nervousness behind it. "Ingrid calls me Mikel now. Hello, Andrea. Long time no see."

Andrea shook his hand, noting from the 'feel' of it that he had changed a great deal since the last time she'd seen him. "You've a story to tell also," she said, barely keeping her voice even.

"We do," said Mikel as he slid onto the bench beside her, "and the short of it is that Ingrid was able to do what nobody else could."

Taking a sip of the hot tea that Ingrid handed to her, she thought back.

22 May 1992

The first thing that Andrea and Ingrid did before they approached the building that housed the clandestine laboratory was to carefully shield their minds from intrusion. Their quarry was Dr. Diego Ferrazzano, an up-and-coming neurologist who had radical theories about the relationship between brain wave patterns and psychic abilities. It was later discovered that he had been illegally and unsuccessfully experimenting on convicted felons, which had caused him to lose both his job and his family. Nobody anticipated that he'd resort to performing those experiments on himself, enabling latent powers to emerge.

Two days ago, their colleague Michael Colebrook, otherwise known as Flare, the Spirit of Fire, had disappeared during what was supposed to have been an unrelated mission in the vicinity. His last communication had been a very hasty report of his position and that he suspected Dr. Ferrazzano to be more involved than initially believed.

"I really ought to be attending my university graduation ceremony today," Andrea grumbled.

Ingrid gave her a black look. "At least you have the power to be in two places at once. I'm supposed to be writing a physics exam. Besides, Flare's safety is more important. Let's move."

As her fellow elemental made her way around the back of the building, Andrea approached the front door as they'd planned. It wasn't surprising that the door was unlocked; obviously a rescue attempt had been anticipated. Once inside, she cautiously explored the warren of empty rooms, not daring to use any of her telepathic senses, because a powerful enough mentalist would be able detect such.

She was in a larger room near the middle of the building when a deep voice sounded from a ceiling-mounted speaker system. "Only one hero? Surely, they'd send me more of a challenge!"

Andrea flicked her gaze around the room; there was nobody present, meaning that the doctor was probably observing from a closed-circuit camera system elsewhere. "I think you'll find that I'm quite up to the task!" she yelled. "On behalf of the–"

"Spare me the speeches," Dr. Ferrazzano interrupted derisively. "I know you're here looking for your friend. I will make a bargain with you: if you can reach the far door, he may go free."

At once she wrapped herself in her time power and accelerated her personal space, running forward in a blur. Her fingers were mere inches from the doorknob when her body was grabbed by telekinetic force and thrown into the opposite wall.

"Too slow!" the doctor boasted as she crashed to the floor. "Sloppy! Amateurish! Useless!"

With each insult he slammed her against a different wall of the room. The fourth time, she felt ribs crack. The pain served to clear her head, and anger lent her the extra boost that she needed. "Don't underestimate me!" she roared, her silvery aura bursting to life. She teleported herself in front of the far door a few seconds into the past, making it appear that she was in two places at once. Then she slapped her palm on the wood and projected it forward into time, rotting it away.

As what was left of the door sheeted to the floor in a pile of dust, a figure moved forward from the room beyond, its eyes glowing menacingly orange. Quickly she backed up, and the person who walked slowly into the light was none other than Flare. "You all right?" she asked in concern. He didn't answer, and his face appeared to be locked in a neutral mask. "Flare!" she called, but there was still no response. She hollered at the ceiling, "You said that he'd go free!"

"And he is," said Dr. Ferrazzano with a laugh. "I said he'd go free; I didn't say that he'd be of sound mind. Young man, there's your so-called friend who abandoned you. Punish her, if you like."

"What?!" Andrea exclaimed as Michael's orange-red aura flamed into existence. He advanced on her, sheathing his arms with fiery gloves. "Come on, you know me better than that," she said to him as she backed away. "I would never abandon any of our teammates. Don't make me fight you!" Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and he charged.

The doctor's laughter permeated the room as she spent the next few minutes dodging punches, blocking thrown orbs of fire, and dowsing any stray embers that threatened to set the room alight. All her attention was upon Michael; she couldn't think about anything else or Ferrazzano might be able to divine what the plan was… Suddenly, the laughter was replaced by a scream and then silence. Michael only hesitated for a second before resuming his assault.

Ingrid's voice came over the system. "I've neutralized his powers. Due to his inexperience, he was so focused on you that he didn't sense me coming. What's the situation down there?"

She slipped and hit the floor with a grunt, and then forced herself to roll out of the way of a double-fisted fire hammer. "He's got Flare mind-controlled!"

"But he's unconscious now; it should've broken!" Ingrid said in disbelief.

"Apparently not!" she shouted as she dodged another attack. Summoning a slow-time portal, she unerringly flung it at him, and his body froze on the spot. "Get in here, you have thirty seconds!"

A section of the ceiling blasted apart and Ingrid flew into the room. She landed behind Michael, touched two fingers to the back of his head for a few seconds, and then grimaced in pain. "What's been done to him is horrendous; I don't think I'll be able to undo it here."

"There's no institution on Earth that'll be able to hold him!" Andrea protested.

Ingrid regarded her grimly. "I know a place."

8 June 2014

She shook her head slightly to disengage from the memory. They'd taken Michael to a specialized clinic in a remote location, where he'd languished for years, much to her regret. Various methods had been tried to help him regain his sanity, to no avail.

Then she stared at him with a sudden realization of why he felt different. "You're human! You're not hosting any more. But that's impossible." It was well known among them that forcibly removing the elemental spirit from its host meant death for both.

"True," said Ingrid. "The medics at the clinic had a bold theory that separating him temporarily from the Spirit of Fire would shock him back into reality. But in one of his clear moments…" she frowned as if trying to find the correct English word.

"Lucid?" Andrea supplied.

"That's it, lucid moments, Mikel said that he didn't want it back because it had caused him too much pain. But because elementals are so rare, instead of letting it die, we decided to find a substitute."

There was a clattering of footsteps down stairs, and a young woman flounced in. "Sorry, I was on the phone," she said in perfect English, although the Nordic accent was still very much present. She brightened when she saw Andrea. "I'd know you anywhere. You must be the famous Andrea that Aunt Ingrid talks about so often. Pleased to meet you." The woman couldn't have been more than twenty years old, with curly red hair and a grin that could light up a room.

Ingrid smiled indulgently at the woman's jollity. "My niece, Petra Eldegard."

There was no mistaking the aura that Petra had. "She's one of us!" Andrea exclaimed.

"Yes." Mikel took up the story. "It's said that the universe hangs by a delicate thread of coincidences. Petra's parents were killed and she was severely hurt in a car crash, just a few days after the search for a suitable substitute was undertaken. Ingrid didn't hesitate."

Andrea could easily fill in the rest. "So, the Spirit of Fire was bonded to Petra, and Ingrid helped to bring you back to a mental equilibrium."

"We're a weird little family," said Mikel with a smile, "but we manage. We've been training Petra in her powers, and she's studying engineering." Then he smirked. "With particular interest in chemicals and explosives." There was laughter all around. He then put his hand on Andrea's shoulder. "By the way," he said softly, "you can stop blaming yourself for what happened to me. If anything, I should be asking your forgiveness for trying to kill you while I wasn't myself."

She looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, her emotions welling up, and then she threw her arms around him and burst into tears. "There's nothing to forgive," she whispered, the weight of her guilt finally lifted. "I'm just so glad that you're all right now." It took a few minutes for her to calm herself, but the others waited patiently, their expressions showing their mutual understanding.

Feeling much more at ease with the knowledge that her old friends were happy now, Andrea told them her own story. Finding her mentor again at long last, learning of his situation, and her promise to him. And the fact that his own people were now likely holding him prisoner.

Ingrid leaned across the table and held Andrea with her sharp gaze. "You've met his mind," she proclaimed in amazement.

Andrea flinched. Of course, Ingrid would be able to perceive that; she was the Force of Will after all. A deep touch to another person's mind was referred to by some mentalists as 'meeting'. It was one of the most personal things that a telepath could do, and was usually done with someone who was trusted without reservation.

In a more compassionate tone, her friend said, "I didn't need to read you, because it's plain to see on your face. You love him that much?"

Unable to speak, she nodded.

"Say no more," Ingrid said earnestly as she clasped Andrea's arm. "I will contact the others. This is well worth coming out of retirement for. You did so much for all of us in the past, that it's likely they will not refuse. I'll be in touch with you as soon as I can."