12:04 a. m., Tuesday
Adobe's Classroom
Team Green
She had never quite felt like this before.
In fact, she was only sure of one thing—the Percussion section had somehow managed to pry her skull open and crawl in with a full load of timpani drums. What's more, they had somehow attempted to get into a contest—who could play the loudest.
Amethyst groaned and clenched her eyes shut. Even when she had been knocked out by a rogue flagpole, she had never felt this horrible.
"Ame?" a voice asked softly. "Are you awake?"
For a long moment, she was tempted to just play dead. Then, sighing, she decided against it. "Yeah, I'm awake." Her voice rasped as she struggled to open first her left eye, then her right. SHE was a true band student. To her surprise, it was dark all around her. That was probably a good thing—light would have seared her corneas to bits, she was sure. "Hello? Where am I?"
Something cool and wet pressed against the side of her head. "Adobe's classroom. In the science wing. Shh. Keep quiet—we're hiding out. Travis just did a major revenge mission and captured half of our team."
"Wha—who?" Amethyst struggled to sit up, but a firm hand pressed her shoulder to the ground, keeping her lying down. Finally, she sighed and gave up, still trying to blink in the darkness. "I can't see anything."
"That's because we've got a bandage over your eyes to block out light. Shh. We've got to keep quiet."
"Well, at least tell me who's holding me down," Amethyst grumbled quietly. She hated being in the dark almost as much as she hated the timpani jamming underneath her skull.
"It's Elyse. The colorguard are all taking turns watching over you. You might want to get some sleep or something until we can get some Tylonel." Amethyst could almost see the bookish Colorguard Captain in her mind, trying to hold down an unwilling member of her colorguard troops. As Elyse dwarfed Amethyst in height by at least a foot and a half, Amethyst was quite sure she didn't have any trouble.
"Here," another voice joined them. "Give her some of this stuff. It's magic, I swear." Amethyst distinctly heard the crisp sound of a soda can opening nearby. "Open your mouth, Ame." She did so, rather unwillingly, and nearly gagged on the sugary liquid that poured down her throat. Before long, however, the timpani vanished, leaving Amethyst's head clear.
She worked her jaw, struggling to sit up once again and finding a new spring of energy. "Wow. That's great stuff."
"Ski. It does a Bandie good. Now let's get those bandages off of you." Fingers pried the darkness away from Amethyst's eyes, revealing to her Elyse and Lisa. Lisa was holding a half-empty Ski bottle in her hand and grinning like a cheesy commercial. "Feeling better?"
"Loads, actually," Amethyst admitted through a grin. "What's going on?" They were in Adobe's office, where all of the chemicals were kept for the Honors Chemistry II classes. Amethyst could see most of the colorguard ranks sprawled across the floors and counters nearby—one of her own freshmen was sacked out only a few feet away.
"It's about midnight. Team Puce is sleeping cos they called a temporary truce until eight a. m. tomorrow," Elyse explained in a low voice. "We don't trust them, so we're all hiding out in different places. This is Adobe's office, as you know. The rest of Team Green is scattered throughout the school."
"How long was I out?" Amethyst asked through a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Eight or nine hours." Lisa shrugged. "We managed to capture Mike after Travis knocked you out with his trumpet. Team Puce retaliated SOMEHOW, we're not sure, and now half of Team Green is missing. Of course, a few members disappeared after that Autumn kid disappeared."
"What? Autumn's missing?" Autumn was a good friend of Amethyst's.
"Yeah—and Eve, Solan, Verran, and Laiva." Amethyst sucked in a shaky breath. Not only was Autumn gone, but Solan (Amethyst's boyfriend) and Eve (Amethyst's "Liebling") were, too.
"You're sure Team Puce doesn't have them?" Amethyst demanded. Lisa nodded. Amethyst swore. "Great, now what have we gotten ourselves into?"
Nearby, one of Amethyst's freshmen mumbled in her sleep.
12:10 a. m., Tuesday
The Down-World
Team Green Rescue Team Two
Nearby, Shane grunted in his sleep.
"This is great, just great. What have we gotten ourselves into?" Laiva whined, standing and pacing for about the third time in that many hours. "I mean, a James Bond mission in O'Malley's office was no big deal, but now look at us."
"Will you STOP that?" Eve snapped, rubbing at her velvet cloak. Laiva's pacing was annoying her beyond all reason, if this cloak didn't manage first. "It's not as bad as you think."
"Not as bad as I think?" Laiva demanded, ignoring the fact that Verran, Solan, and Autumn were all sacked out on different couches respectively. "I'm in another dimension while my boyfriend is trying to lead a team that is hopeless against all odds to victory at the cost of a two-thousand dollar trumpet. I'm wearing clothing that I would never have dreamed existed, and I'm walking a dream. Not as bad as I think?"
"Hey, the clothing's nice," Autumn muttered sleepily from her couch (a fuzzy ordeal printed with several garishly colored clarinets). She was wrapped in her own cloak—a much lighter version of Eve's—and looking perfectly contented. A couch away, Verran mumbled something and burrowed into his Maestro's jacket.
The portal had been, as Shane had said, nothing as they had expected. Rounding an ordinary bend in a tunnel that Laiva had never dreamed existed had dropped them on the front mat of a bright green door. What's more, the door was hovering in mid-air, and glowing. On the door had been a rustically painted sign—a Fermata. "Hold me, I'm a Fermata?" Verran had ventured to guess.
Shane had rolled his eyes and pushed them towards the door, Eve first. Before going through, Laiva had been wearing a pair of baggy black pants, a smoke-colored shirt, an oiled leather jacket nicked from her father, and scuffed combat boots. She had been standing in a tunnel hewn roughly and carelessly from stone. Upon climbing through the door and feeling the dark tingle throughout her body, she had found herself standing beside Eve on a plane of green grass and brilliant sunshine. She had also found herself in a comfortable pair of expensive jeans, an oiled leather jacket with silver cufflinks and dragons imprinted on the sleeves, and glossy combat boots. Somehow, the door had upgraded her to a more expensive Laiva.
The others had turned out similarly. Both Solan and Verran had appeared in suits, with coattails and everything. Verran had even had a cane. Autumn and Eve, both wearing letterman jackets and jeans, had shown up in outfits similar to Laiva's own—expensive jeans, nice shoes, and beautiful cloaks. Eve had a bassoon strapped over her shoulder—Autumn a clarinet. Laiva carried a very rudimentary hunting horn on a garishly bright strap.
And then Shane had appeared.
He had been dusty and ugly in the regular world, his only distinguishing feature a red sash amid a cobbled outfit of gray rags. Now he was attired in a tailored green uniform, with a dark sash running across his midsection and several medals gleaming in the sunlight. His eyes had become amber, his hair a fine golden color. A strong jaw and straight nose accompanied an angular face and muscular body.
Eve's mouth had nearly dropped open. Laiva had snickered into the back of her hand—Shane still had a spear. The pendant on his neck reading "Lewis" only seemed to be brighter.
"Come," he told them simply, gesturing for his impeccably-dressed men to lead the way. "We head to the High Council now." He seemed to have trouble forcing that one sentence out.
They had walked for who knew how long, the nice shoes springing on the lush grass. The field eventually molded into the outskirts of a city, growing until they walked through metropolis itself. The group passed not a soul as they traipsed along. A couple of Shane's men excused themselves and left the group to step into a pub as they walked. Finally, Shane stopped them and pointed at a building. "You sleep there," he muttered. "Follow."
Bewildered, the group followed him into the building, walking up several flights of stairs until Shane led them into a large room with six couches. "I guard," he explained, waving off the remainder of his men. "You stay until council sees."
They had been in that room for three hours now. Three long hours of being cooped up together, worried sick, without food and with a silent guard. Needless to say, Laiva wasn't in the best of mindsets. "We've got to get out of here," she decided. "Before they decide to kill us."
Shane lifted his head at this comment. "No Down kill," he muttered in his confused way. "We no kill you. We experiment."
"What happened to this guy?" Eve asked in a low voice as Laiva moved to her own couch. "He spoke such good English in our world, why can't he speak it here?"
"Maybe it has a bad effect on language for the natives," Laiva suggested with a shrug. "I don't really care, he can stutter all he wants." She hummed under her breath, bored and not in the least bit sleepy.
Eve waited for her to fall asleep before turning to their guard. "Shane?" she called hesitantly. "Do you understand me?" The guard bobbed his head once, his nearly-empty eyes watching her closely. "Figures, when he's ugly, he's smart, but when he's cute, he's dumb as a brick," Eve muttered to herself. "Where are we?"
"City," Shane answered absently. He seemed to think and added, "Capital City."
Oh, good, a start. "Are we here to see the High Council?" A nod from the guard. "Is Lewis on the Council?" Even though she was across the room, she could still see the name blazoning out at her.
"No—Lewis—Legend. Lewis…is…Legend," Shane attempted, looking annoyed at his inability to speak on an intelligent level. A ha, Eve thought. So Shane could understand her, but not talk to his comprehension. She could have some fun with this.
"A Legend?"
"Yes—Lewis. He…save…band."
We're getting somewhere. So this Lewis saved a band, did he? Maybe we can use him to convince the Council that we're okay—he IS a band student…
Laiva snorted in her sleep. "…Pickles…"
"So, Lewis saved the band?" Eve pursued.
Shane grunted at this, looking annoyed at something or other, and stood up. He held out a hand and reached into a pouch, withdrawing a dog-eared book. "Here, read. About Lewis." He flipped to a page and held the book out to Eve, who took it with hesitant hands.
"In the days of the Great Jock War, in '86, the band students formed a league of Legends to call on in times of trouble. The nine legends, each to his or her own instrument, were created in the Great Band Tomes. They are headed up by Trumpet-Legend, Lewis. If a band finds itself in trouble, all one would have to do is call upon the legends using the instructions in Great Music Theory, the Tome in which the instructions are located. Two copies of this Tome existed until the Great Jock War. When one of the Jocks got bored and burnt a copy, the only known copy could be found in the Down-World and is currently in possession of the Museum of Music."
That was all the book had to say about Lewis or any of the Legends. Sighing, Eve handed it back and muttered a Thank-You. Maybe these Legends could help the five lost band students escape their fate. Somehow, she doubted that, but anything was worth a try.
Tomorrow, she would try to rob a museum.
