Chapter Thirty-Six: The Old Anchor
Day Ten
Wednesday morning, 9:30 a.m.
Taevon clasped two very different hands in his own. The meaty, calloused hand in his right felt a bit clammy; Casey was a bit nervous. The strong, three-fingered hand in his left, however, gripped his own hand firmly; Leo was determined and focused.
He glanced over the odd group of travelers again. Casey sported a navy hoodie in addition to his tank top, jeans, and a bag over his shoulder filled with hockey sticks and baseball bats like an oversized quiver. Earlier he had been wearing an odd white mask pushed up over his black hair, but the turtles—namely, Leo and Don—had convinced him that it subtracted from his disguise.
Mikey grinned broadly at him. He also carried a bag, but when Taevon had asked what it contained, Mikey had declared "Munchies!" His orange mask contrasted oddly with the navy hoodies that he and the other turtles wore as a makeshift copy of Jior clothing. Apparently the outfits had been purchased the night before last. Various weapons adorned the turtles as well, matched to the colors of their masks; some of the hoodies now had holes to accommodate them.
Saja, between Mikey and Raph, wore her own threadbare Jior clothing. Her face was frozen, and her eyes held a mixture of fear and bravery.
After Raph—who looked downright dangerous—came Don, a black duffel bag on his hip. Taevon had seen him carefully loading it with tools relating to technology last night after delicious pizza and that wildly chaotic and amusing game with colors and English numbers. After the game, the eclectic group had ended up telling stories and legends from their various cultures. The turtles had mentioned Bigfoot, while Taevon and Saja had described the brave great Parvoss, who fought any enemies with incredible courage, and his beautiful and gracious wife Lady Lamaki, who sought to learn lessons from every animal they encountered. The turtles she met are nothing like these ones. Well, at least in the matter of speed. These turtles are clever, wise, and some of them are patient.
Beyond the group, paws clasped on his walking stick, the aged rat, so respected by the turtles, stood regarding them. Master Splinter had exchanged wise words of advice to the turtles earlier, who had promised caution. His ancient dark eyes now lingered on Taevon, which did not help his nerves. Did Lady Lamaki ever encounter a rat in the stories? I don't remember. Saja would probably remember, since she's younger.
"All right," he said, half to himself and half to everyone else. "We're heading to the Old Anchor, since Saja knows it better and it's out of the way." His voice slipped into a comforting British accent. "It ought to be night there. Casey, remember the village? Picture it, and then picture the great stone obelisk, covered with runes, just outside the village in the woods. It should pull you right to it, rather like a magnet. The rest of you, picture the village Casey and I described earlier, and, as you lot say, 'go with the flow.' What's going to happen when we get there? What does the future hold?
"Okay… is everyone ready?"
Four turtles, one human, and one Jior-turned-human nodded with varying levels of confidence. Taevon nodded to himself, shifted his feet, and took a deep breath. Stop stalling, Laith, he told himself sternly. Ay, my nerves are quite unsettled, to call myself that. He squeezed the two hands tighter. "Galtu, hemrees, alau, genen, jar… martzitae."
Countdown completed, Taevon willed himself and his passengers to be at the Old Anchor. He envisioned the great gray obelisk, covered in moss and the ancient tongue of dimension travelers recording their returns from their journeys, in the dark woods. He felt its pull, like a magnet, reaching for him. The hands in his own tugged at his, and he pulled mightily; even in that instance of travel, he knew the chain-link of teleporters and passengers was as cumbersome as an overloaded and lopsided vehicle.
Then Taevon opened his eyes, and, blinking, found himself standing in the woods before the massive Old Anchor. Instinctively he took a step forward and touched its sun-warmed mossy corner. The Anchor's magnetism released its hold on him, and he let out the air that had been bottled up inside him. He stared up at it; the oldest records inscribed towered several handbreadths over his head. Last year when the village had switched to the New Anchor on the far side of town, the elders had said that this Anchor was around eighty-two years old. Tradition told him to inscribe his own arrival, but for one thing, the surface was nearly filled, and for another, his passengers would hardly be welcomed.
Speaking of passengers- Taevon turned.
"There he is!"
It took Taevon half a moment to realize that the phrase had been spoken in his heart language, and that while the faces around him were familiar, they were neither green nor friendly.
Strong hands grabbed his arms. What happened? How did they know we were coming? Where are Saja and the turtles and Casey?
The small crowd of Jior men parted as several stooped, gray-haired figures approached. Taevon stood a little straighter. His heart began to pound in his chest like a drum. The elders.
One of them, his hands clasped behind him, regarded him with haughty eyes, despite his lesser height: Elder Nafti himself. "Taevon Yue'lah, you have shown improper respect for the ways of our people for years… but this action tramples our High Laws in the figurative mud." The corner of his lip curled as he spoke. "Taevon is hereby charged with breaking the High Laws of the Jior."
Great Parvoss! Taevon's breath came in short gasps, and his vision tunneled. How did this happen? Can I get away? What will The Technology do to me? Where are the others?
He barely noticed when someone gingerly pulled a spongestone necklace over his head, robbing him of his ability to teleport as long as he wore it. He barely noticed when the men dragged him forward, through the trees, toward the village. Toward his unknown, terrible fate.
Two and a Half Days Earlier
Jior Night
"…The rest of you, picture the village Casey and I described earlier, and, as you lot say, 'go with the flow.' Okay… is everyone ready?"
Leo closed his eyes and did his best to summon an image of the village and the Old Anchor that Taevon had described. His navy disguise felt odd against his skin.
"Galtu, hemrees, alau, genen, jar… martzitae." Taevon's hand was clammy as he counted down, and Leo thought he heard the young man gulp.
Focus, Taevon, he silently admonished. You're leading right now. You can't be distracted.
The world tilted and swirled, and Leo felt Don dragging on his left hand; in the same heartbeat, Taevon tugged mightily at his right hand, as if pulling him up from hanging off the edge of a building. Leo transferred this tug to pull Don after him.
The world shuddered into stability under him. Leo swayed and instinctively opened his eyes. Whoa. So that's what traveling feels like.
Before him—he blinked in the sudden dark—scarce moonlight filtered through leaves onto a great mossy obelisk, covered with faded letters in a strange script. It stood perhaps seven foot high, like a miniature, alien version of the Washington Memorial.
Leo realized Don's hand was still clenched in his own and released it. Then he realized his right hand was already empty.
He pivoted.
The group stood in a ring around the Old Anchor. Mikey and Don looked a little dazed, like Leo felt, after their first travel. Raph and Casey had already recovered, and each had a hand touching the stone. In unison, they both took a step back, looking confused.
"I had ta touch it," Raph growled softly at Leo's look. "It was like a magnet."
I hope that's not bad, thought Leo. No time to worry about it, though, since Taevon is—
Short, fast breaths cut off his train of thought.
Saja.
He took a sideways step to see Saja on the far side of the Anchor, dropped into a crouch, hands over her ears. "He's gone, he's gone, he's gone!" The forgnathu translator matched the tone and volume of her panicked whispered stream of words.
Shell! Leo started moving towards her, his blood pressure rising at the mere sight of her panic. Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream…
Mikey wrapped his arms around her. "Shhh, Saja, it's okay. It'll be okay. I'm right here. We're gonna get through this. Don't freak out."
Too late for that, Leo thought, but Mikey's efforts did seem to be helping her calm down.
He cast his eyes over the group. "Is everyone okay?"
Casey swiveled his head back and forth. "Hey, where's Taevon?"
Saja whimpered, and Mikey's comforting increased in volume slightly.
Hush, Casey Jones.
"Just what I was wonderin.'" Raph twirled his sais between his fingers.
"Maybe he made a mistake somehow—he brought us here, but ended up somewhere else himself," Don suggested.
"Maybe he chickened out," Raph growled.
"Nah, I'm sure he didn't ditch us. He's not a bad guy," Casey said, scratching his head and messing up his hair.
Leo narrowed his eyes. "It seems that way, Casey, but I felt how nervous he was before we teleported." What was he thinking about? What was he distracted by?
Saja raised her huge dark eyes. "I think he—I think he time traveled," she whispered in an uneven voice. "I can sense… it's not really clear… he was here…"
Of course he was here—he brought us here. But did he abandon us? Is he hiding in the woods nearby? Did he make a simple mistake… or did something happen to him?
Leo shook himself. "In any case, we can't wait around for him. We've got a job to do." He met his brothers' eyes.
Raph jammed his sais back in his belt—hindered only slightly by his hoodie—and nodded. He was ready.
From his position still hugging Saja crouched on the ground, Mikey beamed and gave him a thumbs-up.
Leo could see the self-doubt in Don's eyes as he adjusted the strap of his duffel again, but the purple-masked turtle nodded anyway.
Casey pulled his hood up and grabbed a hockey stick.
All right, that's four out of five. Saja still looks… fragile.
Leo crouched down in front of the girl. "Saja, it's time to move," he said softly. She gulped and shuddered slightly. He touched her shoulder. "Try not to worry about the future right now. Let's focus on getting to where we need to go quickly and quietly. No one should be awake, and even if they are, all of us will protect you. Can you tell me a back way to get to the Council Building?"
Saja took a deep breath; Mikey held her a little tighter. Slowly, she described the town: the huts and humble cottages that most Jior lived in, when they were in town, made up an outer ring. Inside that stood another ring, this one of nicer houses for the elderly and for the elders on the Council. Inside this came a paved square with bordered by a market, shops and other buildings, and straight ahead, the Council Building.
"Thank you, Saja."
Saja managed a tiny, frightened smile and slowly started to uncurl and stand up; Mikey gently released his hold on her, but kept a hand on her shoulder.
Time to move. "Hoods up, guys. No talking once we get into town. Everyone should be asleep, but remember, if anyone does see us, don't panic—they'll probably assume we're one of them. C'mon, let's go!"
Thus, the strange group began its journey through the trees, Saja and Mikey at the front to point the way toward the village. The foliage was thick enough that Don produced a penlight with which to follow the faded footpath; the turtles admired a bush with bright purple leaves that the light revealed. Mikey immediately started cracking jokes in a whisper to Saja to keep her distracted; Leo allowed this because even though she didn't understand all of them, his muffled laughs seemed to help her.
He frowned, however, at Raph's growls under his breath doubting the trustworthiness of Taevon and Casey's less-than-silent defenses. Don said nothing.
At the edge of the forest, moonlight poured down before them, revealing the sleeping huts and houses of the village some distance away almost as clearly as day, albeit with deep shadows; the moon was almost full.
The overgrown path continued straight toward the village. On the left side an aged four-foot-high stone wall rambled, adorned by flowering vines and moss, and beyond it a grassy field stretched. To the right of the path, waist-high grains rustled in the light, mild breeze.
"The tayeem grazing fields," Saja said, raising her left hand. "The Jior men who are in town take turns herding them, and we shear them once a year to make our clothes." She fingered the edge of her navy tunic.
"So you've got dark blue sheep?" Mikey grinned broadly. "We really are on an alien planet!" Leo could practically see a thought pop into his head. "Wait—are they not like sheep? 'Cause then why would you need a fence? Are they dangerous?"
Saja shook her head. "I don't know what 'sheep' are, but tayeem are just interested in eating plants, not people. The fence keeps the tayeem out of the grain fields." She raised her right hand. "This crop is about half grown."
A pause stretched before them.
"It's all so beautiful under the night sky," Saja whispered finally, sorrow in every word.
Everyone looked up. The moon dominated the sky.
At a glance, this moon looked like a larger, closer version of Earth's, but upon closer inspection, pale blue and gray-green splotches covered its surface. Despite their serious mission, Leo reflected on the beauty of the scene and the myriad of unfamiliar stars above. Wow. We rarely get to see the night without the lights from the city. And certainly not an alien night sky.
"It's beautiful," Leo said softly. He took the flashlight from Mikey and handed it back to Don.
"An' huge," put in Casey. "It looks like it's gonna fall outta da sky."
"Can you tell what time of night it is, Saja?" Leo asked. How much time do we have before dawn?
