Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to "Andromeda" or its characters. I am simply borrowing them, I swear!
A/N: Please review if you read. I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter. Thanks!
Title: "The Girl Who Hated All"
Summary: When the Andromeda comes across a very young, and very strange young girl, they have no choice but to allow her to come with them. But when strange events begin to occur, there is only one suspect, and they can't seem to get rid of her…
Genre: Supernatural/Horror
Rating: PG-13 for language and supernatural occurrences.
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Chapter Four
Morning was approaching. The shadows produced by the trees were slowly appearing. A breeze swept by, causing loose dirt to fly up into the air. The dust drifted down, landing on the unconscious being that was lying on the ground. He was lying so still that even the earth around him was still. Scattered around him were small, white pieces of paper.
Black began to fill the air. Harper began to stir as he inhaled the smoke that was enveloping him. He began to cough, his eyes fluttering open. "What-what the hell-" he coughed, sitting upright. He rubbed at his eyes, attempting to see through the heavy smoke.
As his eyes regained clarity, the first thing he saw Agrona's hut. "Oh, my God!" he exclaimed, stumbling as he attempted to stand up. He stood and stared in bewilderment and horror at the sight of the hut; the roof was covered in orange-red flames, and the flames were slowly sliding down the walls. The smoke increased, spewing into the sky at an alarming rate. Suddenly, a thought flashed through Harper's mind: 'The diary!' He reached into his pants' pocket; it was empty.
His heart skipped a beat as he frantically searched his other pockets. "Where is it?" he cried, hysterically. His eyes drifted to the ground where he could see (but just barely) the small pieces of paper that were spread out around his feet. He fell to his knees, picking up the small bits of paper. As his hands searched the ground around him, he felt his hand brush something out of the ordinary; he took a hold of the section of pink leather and stood up. The rising sun's rays shot down onto the leather, reflecting on the gold writing that was inscribed on it: Moj Zapisnik.
Harper sucked in his breath. The feeling of utter hopelessness was pouring down onto him. His finger outlined the letters on the used-to-be cover of Agrona's diary. The gold letters sparkled at him in the sun; laughing at him, mocking him. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his grip on the cover loosen, and the leather fell down to the ground.
His gaze drifted back up to the hut; the flames were growing larger and larger. An assortment of thoughts flashed through Harper's mind: 'You lost the diary; now your crew will never believe you.' 'You can't do anything right! Just lie on the ground, fall back asleep, and let the fire get you.' 'Go back inside the hut. Get on one of the spell books. At least you won't go back empty handed.'
Harper obeyed the last of his thoughts; he began to run towards the hut. As he entered the small house, he could immediately feel the heat hit him. His eyes glanced over the room, attempting to see the bookshelf through the thick smoke. He dashed over to the bookshelf and grabbed the book titled The Wrath of Whirling. Sweat was already beginning to appear on his forehead. He wiped the back of his arm across his face and turned around, dashing back towards the door. He hugged the book to his chest as he ducked beneath the doorway, attempting to avoid the patches of fire that were scattered throughout the shelter.
As soon as he exited the hut, he collapsed onto his knees, coughing intensely. He looked behind him and saw the flames continuing to devour the hut. With all of his strength, he pushed himself back onto his feet and continued to run.
He ran back into the rainforest and did not stop; he couldn't. His legs continued to move, and he did not try to stop them; he knew that, unless he got far, far away from where he was, that fire would spread, destroying everything in its path, including him.
Harper's head was throbbing, and the thought of what had happened the previous night would not leave him mind. What had that . . . thing been? He had never seen, or even heard, of anything like it. And its eyes . . . Harper shuddered. Its eye had been the worst, if that was even what they were. They had burned to look into, but they had held his attention so strongly that he could not help but look. Just the mere thought of them made him feel sick and uneasy and, for the most part, scared for his life. Harper's foot caught a bit of loose soil and he stumbled, causing his attention to snap back to his running.
He looked far ahead and saw a small stream. "Okay," he said to himself, breathing heavily. "I'm going to rest as soon as I get past the stream." A cramp was growing in his abdomen, sending a small shot of pain up his side whenever his left foot hit the ground.
Harper's eyes were fixated upon the creek. It seemed as though it was not getting any closer; that he was running, but not actually moving. His mouth was dry; burning and screaming for water.
Finally, he reached the stream. It was not any longer than ten or fifteen feet wide. Harper took a few steps backwards, and then dashed towards the stream. As he reached the edge, he leaped up, jumping over the water. He landed on the other side, just barely untouched by the water's edge.
He kneeled down and dipped his hands in the water, bringing it up and slurping it. The cool water felt so good as it flowed down his throat. He dipped his hands back into the water, but he did not bring them back up; something had caught his eye. Something on the banks of the water.
He removed his hands from the stream and crawled over to the spot where a white stone-like object was jutting up from the mud. He brushed away the excess dirt, revealing even more of the white object. Curiosity taking over, he began to dig, pushing and plowing the mud away. More and more white began to appear, until Harper realized what it was.
His stomach gave a sudden lurch and he fell backwards onto the ground. The white stone-like object had been a small section of a ribcage.
He stood up; his heart was in his throat. He slowly backed away from the bank. Suddenly, his foot got caught on a root and he fell backwards onto his back. As he hit the ground, a grunt escaped from his mouth. "Come on," he groaned, rolling onto his chest and pushing himself up into a standing position. His eyes scanned the area around him. He noticed a sketch engraved in one of the trees. He approached it, his eyes squinting as he read it.
"Craft the spell in the fire;
Craft it well; Weave it higher.
Weave it now of shining flame;
None shall come to hurt or maim.
None shall pass this fiery wall;
None shall pass No, none at all."
Harper jumped back at the sudden flash of red. He looked around in confusion. "Wha-" he said, returning his gaze to the spell on the tree. Beneath it, he noticed, was a small note. He stooped down and read the message. "Read this spell. Agrona will not prevail. Help shall come, if you seek it correctly." Underneath it was signed, "Nadezhda." Harper shook his head. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered.
He remembered, suddenly, the book he had taken from Agrona's home. It was lying near the stream. Harper picked it up and began to look through it.
Inside of it were spells, enchantments, hexes . . . "It's amazing how books just like this killed so many people," he said, shaking his head again. He arrived at the back few pages. He skimmed by them and arrived at the back cover, where a name was written; small, but legible. Harper sucked in his breath. Nadezhda. He should have known. Agrona and her parents were probably the only ones on the whole freaking planet with those abilities.
"Great," moaned Harper, leaning against the tree, where the spell had been carved, "what did I do to myself when I said that spell?" he wondered aloud. He looked at the cover of The Wrath of Whirling. On the cover was a red hexagram on top of a bright yellow sun.
Harper slowly turned the book over, looking at it from all angles. He noticed that one page had the corner turned over, but only very slightly. He opened the book to the marked page, and saw that there was a folded piece of paper stuck tightly in the crease of the book. He pulled it out and unfolded it. On the paper, in rushed handwriting, was a list of "Rules to Performing Spells." Harper's eyebrow rose as he glanced over the list:
1) Do NOT use the same spell repeatedly to simply raise your skill.
2) It is possible to cast spells in advance. To activate the trigger, say the word, phrase, etc. that you have designated to the spell.
3) You can cast spells or feats with a lengthened duration, even lasting a generation
4) A spell can be cast on multiple people, but at a penalty; part of the spell will be reversed upon the doer.
5) You can cast spells at a distance.
6) A magical effect can be permanently embedded in an item.
"Huh." Harper grunted in confusion. "You know, I really don't understand all of this magic crap," he mumbled, crumbling the paper up and sticking it into his back pocket. "Maybe this'll be useful later," he said to himself.
Harper continued to walk through the forest, in search of the ship he had arrived at the planet in. He was feeling especially paranoid; constantly jerking his head in all directions, just to be sure that no one, or nothing, was following behind him, waiting to strike.
All he wanted was to get off of this Godforsaken planet before the paranoia overpowered him and gave him an anxiety attack (which wasn't too far off).
A *snap* filled the uneasy silence. Harper jumped back at least two feet, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. BA-BUM, BA-BUM. It took him awhile to realize that it was his own foot that caused the twig to break. Man, if his friends could see him now . . . they'd have already lost all hope in him ever finding his ship, much less getting back to the Andromeda.
For some reason, as he trudged blindly through the forest, something Rev Bem had always told him came into his mind. My pain belongs to the Devine. It is like air; it is like water. That prayer always seemed to help him in the worst times; why not try it once more? "My fear belongs to the Devine. It is like air; it is like water," he muttered to himself as he continued his search through the forest.
Harper heard a short, but loud, shriek come from behind him. He spun around; the only movement he could see was the gentle falling of a leaf. He shuddered. "My fear belongs to the Devine. It is like air; it is like water," he repeated, slightly louder this time.
BAZEEE! A high-pitched wail pierced through the air, causing Harper to stagger and fall against a tree, rubbing at the area behind his ears. 'My fear belongs to the Devine. It is like air; it is like water,' he thought, shakily. 'God, my fear belongs to whoever is stalking me right now.' He turned his head, but, once again, saw nothing, no one.
Whatever game that person (or thing) was playing was getting old fast, but not fading whatsoever. "My fear belongs to the Devine. It is like air; it is like water," he said, again, as a miserable attempt to shake off the being who was following him . . . if anyone was actually following him.
Harper continued in this manner for over an hour, attempting to ignore the constant noises that were coming from behind him. He suppressed a yawn, scratching at the back of his head. "If I don't find the ship soon, I'll have to sleep right here in the forest, and I don't feel up to that." He shook his head. "Oh God, I'm talking to myself . . . that's never a good sign." He groaned inwardly, fighting all bodily warnings that he needed to go to sleep right then, and no later.
Harper could feel himself beginning to lose energy. He paused in his walking. 'I guess going to sleep couldn't hurt,' he thought, looking around for a place to rest. Through his darkening vision, he could see a spot of soft earth. He slowly trudged over to the spot and lied down. He let his eyelids slide shut, and a mixed feeling of relaxation, apprehension, and unknowing flickered through him, before deep sleep finally shrouded him . . .
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Meanwhile, on the Andromeda . . .
"Where the hell is that boy?!" Beka demanded, looking at the screen. She had been attempting to see where Harper was on Mykenae, but, so far, the only results she had gotten said that there were no living beings on the entire planet. "I mean, if he's not on Mykenae, then where else would he go?"
"I don't know, Beka," said Trance, standing beside her. "I was sure that this is where Harper was going to go, but . . ." She shook her head in perplexity. "I don't see where he could be. Rommie, are you sure that this is accurate?" she asked, looking over at the avatar.
"I cannot detect any malfunctions," she replied, as she scanned the planet once again. "I also cannot detect any life forms."
Beka rubbed at her temple. This was just great; Harper was missing, and the only place that he would have gone, could have gone, was completely empty. Beka bit her lip; the fact that the planet was uninhabited was bothering her, as it had when they first landed on Mykenae, although she had not told anyone. Was it really possible for such a planet not to inhabit anyone?
It seemed like a perfectly reasonable place to live; the climate was good, there was water, food . . . everything that one needed to survive. "Rommie," she began, cocking an eyebrow, "could you run a history of all living beings that have been on Mykenae?"
Rommie nodded. "The last recorded life was on . . . 3.18.10089."
Beka looked over at her in surprise. "But that was less than a month ago," she said, shocked. "But that was less than a month ago. What was the recorded population for four months ago?"
There was a pause as Rommie calculated. "Population: One million, two hundred thousand, and sixteen," she replied, a question in her voice. "That can't be right. As soon as we find Harper, we'd better make sure he checks over my population calculation."
"So, if your calculations are wrong, perhaps Harper really is on Mykenae," said Trance, hopefully.
"You're right, Trance. I mean, we didn't detect Agrona, so maybe Harper is down there. Come on, let's find Dylan and go back down to Mykenae," she added, gesturing for Trance to follow her as she stepped down from her post and began to walk towards the door . . .
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Harper was still in a deep sleep, although the thrashing of his body said otherwise. He was flailing about, mumbling the prayer, "My fear belongs to the Devine. It is like air; it is like water . . ."
Harper could see Agrona, even though he was not sure if she could see him. There were people all around him, completely oblivious to both him and Agrona. He stared at Agrona carefully, and could see her lips moving, her eyes locked upon a man walking by. Her lips continued to move, until the man stopped in his tracks, dropping the bag he had been carrying; the fruits and vegetables rolled out of the bag, onto the ground.
Agrona continued to stare at the man, hatred in her eyes, and continued to mutter something Harper could not hear. Harper watched as the man's eyes snapped shut, and he began to cry out in pain.
A smirk began to appear on Agrona's face, but the evil in her eyes, and the continuous chanting (Harper assumed it to be) did not stop. The man fell to his knees, placing a hand to his chest. His chest flew up and down rapidly, his hand curling into a fist, gripping onto his shirt as though it was the only thing keeping him alive.
The man gasped one last breath, before collapsing onto the ground. His body gave one final jerk, before it relaxed, and Agrona's chanting stopped. Her lips curling into a large smile and looked into Harper's eyes for a split second, before she disappeared right before his eyes.
It was only Harper and the man. Harper had no other choice but to look at him, a feeling of both pity and terror in his stomach. Suddenly, he saw the man move and stand. Harper watched, his mouth agape, as the man looked over at him . . . saw him. The man walked over to Harper, looking at him with lifeless eyes.
"Harper," he said, in an unemotional tone of voice. "I am Dijon. You must listen to me. I know what troubles you."
Harper opened his mouth, but got caught on his own voice, which didn't really matter; he did not know what to say.
"Do you know what killed the inhabitants of Mykenae?" Dijon asked.
Harper nodded. "Agrona," he replied, simply.
"Yes. I also know that you are troubled that your friends do not believe you about the witch, Agrona."
Harper nodded again. "Do not tell them what you know," advised Dijon, seriously. "What they do not know will only make them safer. But since you know, it is best that I give you a warning: One of Agrona's spells (in the book you took from her house) can destroy her."
Harper's eyes widened slightly. "R-really?" he asked, his voice cracking a bit. "Which one?"
Dijon shook his head. "I do not know. I have never seen Agrona's books, but I do know that there is a spell that can stop her evil, forever. But," he added, firmly. "you must be sure that you are using the correct spell, or else Agrona's father will command her to destroy you, as she destroyed me . . . and everyone else on Mykenae."
Harper opened his mouth, but once again could not find anything to say. "You must trust me," said Dijon. He then closed his soulless eyes, and vanished, as Agrona had after she killed him.
Harper stared at the spot Dijon had been, inhaling deeply. He could feel himself beginning to awaken. 'I can't tell the crew about what I learned?' he thought. 'Great, then coming here was a big mistake.' He paused, thinking about his expedition through the past few days. "Or maybe not," he muttered.
Harper's eyes snapped open, and he was greeted with the green leaves of the rainforest. His eyes narrowed. Not a day prior, the trees had been brown and dead, but now . . . they were alive.
"Harper!" Harper looked over at the direction where the voice came. Through the branches and bushes, he saw Beka walking towards him, both joy and anger in her voice.
Harper looked at the ground next to him, where Agrona's book was lying and pulled it into his chest. "Harper!" Beka exclaimed again.
"Hey Boss!" Harper yelled back, stuffing the book into his jacket and zipping it up.
Beka walked up to him, all joy of finding him had disappeared. "What did you think you were doing?!" she demanded, her voice echoing throughout the forest.
"I just wanted to come back here," Harper lied, nervously. "You know, to look around; make sure that there was really no one here."
Beka could sense Harper's lying to her, but she shrugged it off, glad that Harper was safe. "Which reminds me, you'd better inspect Rommie's detector; it said that there had been a population of over a million not three months ago." She shook her head.
Harper chuckled as Beka turned around and began to walk back through the forest. Harper was dying to tell her everything he had learned, dying to have her trust him again, but he didn't want to put her in any more danger than she was already in, trusting Agrona and all.
Harper followed close behind Beka, thinking to himself, 'One spell. This is going to call for some intense studying of this book.' He felt the lump in his jacket. 'And it is going to take awhile, especially since I can't let Agrona see me with it.'
Harper and Beka arrived at the Maru, where Dylan was waiting inside. "Mr. Harper-" he began, annoyance in his voice.
Harper held up his hands, cutting Dylan off. "Don't worry, Boss; Beka already asked me what I was doing here. I don't need to hear it again."
Dylan closed his mouth, nodding. He had already had a stressful day, and was not up to arguing with Harper at that moment.
Harper sat down in a chair, strapping himself in. "Hey Boss?" he asked, looking at Beka. "What about the ship I came in?"
Beka shrugged. "We don't have time to look for it; we still have to find Agrona someone to take care of her, remember?"
Just hearing Agrona's name sent a chill up his spine, but he remained calm and collected. "Yeah, I remember."
"What, no more arguments over her being 'evil?'" mocked Beka, with a half-smile.
"Nope," replied Harper. "I was probably just being paranoid or something," he said, rolling his eyes. Beka could believe whatever she wanted, but Harper knew what Agrona really was, and he fully intended to stop her, no matter what the cost . . .
A/N: Okay, time to give credit where credit is due. I got the spell (Craft the spell in the fire; Craft it well; Weave it higher) from dark-witchcraft.com (I'm not the best "spell-creator"), and the list of "rules to performing spells" from kpmcdona.home.mindspring.com. Okay, now review please!!