Chapter Six: Operation Torch
A Lunpan guard stood in the middle of the village, outside the house of the former village council leader. The man had a purpose while Dodonpa ruled, but it wasn't so now, and they didn't want him holding secret meetings or anything. The villagers of Lunpa were a subdued group now, but it was clear that they didn't like the way things were now, and a resistance movement wasn't something that would be allowed to grow under the Lunpan Fortress' metaphorical nose.
It was a boring job, but relaxing, too, to watch the flow of village life, even if it was a little more careful than before, less free-spirited. He liked guarding houses, too, no one ever stole them.
A weight dropped onto his shoulders, and a voice spoke just behind his head. "'Ere, soldier boy. Let us inside and don't say a word or I'll release the raging power of a thousand hateful souls on your ears," said Fury.
This is not a good thing to hear just before the end of your shift. There was a moment during which the soldier thought very, very quickly. Something about the voice, despite its strange claim, was very believable. He stared ahead with military rigidity as he spoke.
"Despite the fact that there is definitely no one within hearing, I would like to state that there have been very high winds recently, and should they cause this door what I am indicating right now with my pike to temporarily swing open I shall not even find it sufficiently worthy of note to glance in that direction."
"Good man. You just keep an eye on those houses and make sure no one tries to slip one into their pocket or something." The weight vanished from his shoulders, there was a small thump at his feet, and, on cue, there was a freak gust of wind that caused to the door to swing open for several moments, made a few sounds that were eerily like "Watch your step, some of us have sensitive tails" and closed it again. And latched it from the inside.
Flint looked around the inside of the house, taking in the unadorned walls and mostly nondescript room. There was some furniture, and a fireplace with an ancient portrait hanging over the mantle, but the windows were blocked by thick curtains and the rooms were all very dimly lit.
"Who's there?" called Flint, and it took him a moment to realise another voice had called the same thing at exactly the same time.
"We're… here to help," said Flint, eventually.
"Help? Help who? Help do what? 'Help' is so vague, and I've known too many 'helpful' people in the last year," said the other voice, fairly old for a human, but still possessed of an inner strength.
"Well… this is the home of Lunpa's former leader, right? Leader of the village, I mean, not the thieves," said Flint, proceeding slowly and carefully into the house. The other Djinn remained at the door, quietly conversing among themselves.
"That it may well be, but that answers none of my questions," the voice replied.
"We want to help get rid of whoever built that fortress, whoever's directing Lunpa's new attacks on travellers. Or, maybe more specifically, we want to help the Lunpans do that."
"Hah! You assume too much."
"I do?"
"Yes. To begin with, you assume they want to rise up like peasants against a tyrant king."
"Does it matter whether there's a king involved or not?"
"No, but it matters that Adavir leads an army. Peasants rise up, and then they die."
"I'd feel a lot better if I could see the person I'm bandying philosophy with," said Flint, testily.
"So would I," replied the voice. "But you seem idealistic, and so I trust you for now." In the frame of one door into the room, a figure appeared, standing tall but holding on for support. "I am Ian, and I am of Lunpa's bloodline, though the son of his brother rather than a descendant. Who are you?"
"Flint. A Venus Djinni," said Flint, walking into a small patch of light from a gap in the curtains.
"Djinni… my cousin once mentioned a creature he said called itself a Djinni," said Ian.
"That was me!" Tonic announced, joining Flint. "I'm a Mercury Djinni. I remember fighting Donpa- he was pretty tough for an older man, too."
"You do look like what Donpa told me…" Ian agreed. "So you are Djinn, whatever those are. And how do you intend to overthrow Adavir?"
"Who's Adavir?" asked Breath.
"Oh, thank you ever so much," grumbled Waft. "That solves all our problems, that does."
"You don't even know who Adavir is?" asked Ian. "And you want to overthrow him?"
"Well… no, no, we didn't happen to catch his name when he ambushed and imprisoned our human friends," Serac snapped.
"We hope he stopped at imprisonment," muttered Fugue, earning glares from everyone.
"Humans? Oh, yes, I heard the marching this morning. And quite a lot of crashing about not long ago…" Ian added, thoughtfully.
"More Djinn," Flower affirmed.
"You know how to cause an uproar, then. What makes you think you can handle an uprising?"
"Only a few letters different," Granite pointed out.
"I think you'll find," said Ian wearily, "that there's more to it."
"How's Garet doing?" Isaac asked, hopefully.
"Recovering," Mia replied, still in her uberserious healer mode.
"Is that 'recovering' like he'll be up in an hour, or 'recovering' like some day he might speak again?"
"Closer to the first."
"Blast."
"Isaac!"
"Ow! Only joking, Jenna."
"Good."
"You have to admit that being around a quiet Garet would be a nice change for a while."
"I refuse to comment."
Isaac left Jenna with Garet, not wanting to consider what the results might be if he annoyed her any further. There was only so far you could run, even in abject terror, when you were locked in a dungeon cell. Instead he wondered about Felix, a patch of brown-haired shadow in the corner. They had dealt with his emotional issues at Mars Lighthouse… right? Isaac considered having another talk with him, but didn't know what he'd say.
Picard was still out of it, too. It was strange, but perhaps Lemurians healed slowly (at least in the natural way). They lived long enough that, from a lifetime perspective, Picard could take days to get back on his feet and still be up six times faster than the rest of them.
But surely he had never taken this long to recover from other injuries and poisons…?
"Is something wrong with Picard?" asked Isaac.
"You're just the Incarnation of Concern, aren't you?" asked Mia, but she smiled a little as she left Garet and joined Isaac by the other Mercury Adept. "Ah, you noticed. Yes, Picard's suffering from a condition I've only seen once or twice before."
"What?" Isaac breathed, horrified.
"Technically speaking, I believe it's called 'having a poisonous arrow sticking out of your chest'."
Isaac didn't look especially amused, though Mia knew better. "What would we do without your vast knowledge?"
"Well, you wouldn't be breathing right now, I expect," she suggested. Something seemed to have caught Mia's attention, and she was leaning closer to Picard, inspecting the injury closely.
"You might as well stop pretending and take off his shirt. We all know that you're just waiting to say 'I think I can get it out if I don't have to worry about dealing with fabric'," said Isaac.
"This whole experience is starting to give me a very good idea of what it would be like to actually be around you all day, every day," Mia commented, not looking up.
"…Mia, you are around me most of every day. We like it that way." He looked unsettled. "…Right?"
"Mm?" Mia responded, nudging the arrow just slightly.
"Mia!" Isaac burst out.
"I'm listening," she assured him in a distracted voice. "That's odd. This practically looks new. No necrosis, though. The flesh is alive, but not repairing itself at all. And Picard's no haemophiliac. That's not right at all…"
"I understood most of the words in those sentences," said Isaac in a positive, determined voice.
"We should get it out, now," said Mia.
"Okay. Should I take his shirt off now, or should I let you struggle for a while before you give up and say we have no choice?"
"That wasn't very funny the first time," was all Mia answered, taking a firm hold on the short arrow. It was practically a miracle that it hadn't embedded itself entirely inside, with nothing but a mark of blood to show its place.
She moved it carefully but decisively, trying to unhook it from whatever ligament it had met. It was just before Mia jerked the metal head out that she realized the only reason it could have caught in the first place was if it was barbed-
"Oh, Spirits," Isaac groaned as he covered his mouth and turned away quickly.
"What? You're squeamish about blood now?" asked Mia.
"The blood of my friends. In quantities like that, just after seeing the skin sort of-" Isaac began, gesturing very effectively.
"Okay, okay, I didn't say I enjoyed seeing that either," said Mia, cutting him off.
"Well… it's out," Isaac observed. "Now what?"
"Actually… I'm not sure," Mia admitted. "There's something strange about the poison, but I don't know what it is, or why it's happening- what am I saying? Of course I'm sure. We seal this thing up. By Mercury, what was I doing?" The healer grimaced as she set to work with their remaining herbs. For some reason she didn't understand, the leaves turned a strange orange shade on contact with the spilled blood, and before the Adept's eyes, Picard's injury sealed.
"Herbs are fast," said Isaac, "but not that fast."
"Why would they keep us alive and throw us in prison if they meant for us to die anyway?" asked Jenna, frowning.
"She is a ray of cheerful sunlight when all the world is covered in despair," Ivan remarked poetically.
"What was I thinking?" Mia snarled at herself again. "I should have realised it was barbade, should have tested, should have stopped before I just yanked-"
"Mia, calm down. It might have slipped your mind, but we got beaten senseless a few hours ago and you haven't rested since you woke up. 'Unconscious' and 'asleep' are subtly but vitally different," said Isaac. "Also, those are the best herbs I've ever seen."
"Shouldn't have reacted like that," Mia stated dully. She was beginning to think Isaac was right. She felt lightheaded, and the world was a little blurry.
"You okay?" asked Isaac, noticing the unsteady motion.
"I… I'm okay," said Mia, but too hold of Isaac's shoulder to steady herself at the same time.
"Uh huh," said Sheba, not believed either word.
"Easy way or hard way, you're going to sleep," Ivan seconded.
"You're going to make me?" asked Mia. She looked to be on the verge of laughing.
"Yeah, we are," Sheba replied. "Because we're actually conscious."
"And way faster than you," Ivan added.
"And we outnumber you four to one," Jenna finished.
"When did I join you mutineers?" asked Isaac.
"Right about the time you realised you're outnumbered three to one," said the Mars Adept.
"Well, whaddaya know? You're right," Isaac agreed, nodding.
"I still have to-" Mia started, but she could almost hear her teacher's voice in her head… "What good do you think you're going to be if you're falling over patients? Whatever people might say about the care of others, you've got a responsibility to be at your best, and that means taking care of you, too. Now go back to bed and come back tonight. Go, go! The tourniquets can wait a few hours."
"Still have to tell us to keep an eye on Garet and Picard, and then get unmoving," said Isaac, putting a share of his leadership in his voice as well. Mia said nothing, just gave him a Look and then edged over to the less-drafty side of the cell, where she might manage to at least relax for a moment. She didn't expect to get any real sleep on a stone floor…
"In the future, if Mia ever insists I'm lying if I say she snores, I expect all of you to back me up," Isaac informed the others.
Ivan nodded sagely for a moment. "And when, exactly, do you next intend to have a chance to find out that she snores?" he asked, eyes not entirely innocent under his blonde fringe.
"Oh, shut up," said Isaac, waving the Jupiter Adept off and resisting the blush.
And in the corner by the door, Felix risked a moment's inattention to mutter "Four against one. Thank you all so very much. I feel like we're one big family." No one heard him, of course, and he went back to leaning against the cell door.
The logic of the Djinn was like this, and made perfect sense to all of them:
1. A huge foreboding castle of darkness must have a treasure vault.
2. Even without Psynergy, the weapons of the Adepts are good ones, and if they were taken out of the Psynergy-sealed field, they'd no doubt become just as powerful as they ought to be.
3. No megalomaniac archvillain is going to give these to his soldiers, in case they start getting ideas and bring down Psynergy-arrows on his head.
4. So the only safe place to keep them is in the treasure vault, possibly killing those involved in placing them there, for security reasons.
5. The only way to get the Psynergy weapons back is going to be by getting into the vault.
6. Cake is superior to all forms of pie, excluding apple-cinnamon pie, which is in turn only exceeded by applesauce cake.
7. The vault will be near the middle of the castle, just north (or 'behind') the throne room, which will be considered in the middle for the purposes of this incursion. Any evidence otherwise simply reflects a technical inaccuracy in reality, such as must be dealt with in all logistic problems.
8. Right, got all that straight? Then let's go kick some armored- oh, what is it?
"Was that plan supposed to actually explain how we get in to the vault?" asked Quartz, ever the Venus personification of reason.
"I thought that was obvious," said Spring, as though dealing with someone who just couldn't keep up with the rest.
"What, then?" asked Quartz, condescendingly polite. Spring looked at Cannon. Quartz looked at Cannon. The Mars Djinni looked back at both of them blankly. "Oh. Right."
"Um… I'm not sure what you've heard, but I'm not a master lockpick or anything," said Cannon.
"Not the subtle kind, at least," Blitz remarked.
"Oh. Yes, quite good at practical door-opening," Cannon agreed, catching on.
They were huddled in a shadowed alcove in the ground level of the fortress after slipping through a fracture in the foundations. In the distance, they heard the measured steps of more soldiers, occasionally increasing in pace following a major explosion or shattering of stone.
"The chaos-sowing team is doing pretty well," Steel admitted, and from her, this was high praise.
"They're certainly drawing a crowd," Spring agreed in the distracted tones of a single elemental trying to keep an eye on eleven others and formulate a plan to sneak into the core of a soldier-packed fortress. "Those guards are in a rush."
"Yeah, but which way?" asked Smog.
"I don't follow," said Spring, leaning around a corner.
From the end of the hall -but closing quickly- came a rapid pounding of feet, and a small battalion sprinted toward the Djinn. "Run for it, they could be right behind us!" one shouted, and the speed of the footsteps doubled. The guards dashed by without even thinking of glancing in the Djinn's direction.
"Your point is well made," Spring decided after the dust settled.
"Uh huh," said Smog. "Hey, I just had a great idea."
"What?" Spring snapped.
"Why doesn't Cannon just blast holes in the walls and floor until we find whatever dungeon we're after? It'd be quicker than looking for stairs and trying to be quiet."
"I thought your element thought ahead," Quartz said, not waiting for Spring's response. "We're trying to be stealthy so that they don't come along with huge axes and make Djinni con carne, remember?"
"You think I'm suggesting stupid risks, mineral girl?" Smog shot back.
"No, I think you're suggesting risks that become stupid simply because you're the one talking!"
"Hey, calm down," said Corona, stepping between them.
"Can it, sparkbreath!" both Djinn snapped at him.
"I'm never talking back to Dew again…" Spring vowed.
Torch led the way down a dark corridor; her group had probably penetrated the castle deepest of all the Djinni teams, and they were currently quite deep. Most of them were hoping to stumble across the Adepts, but Torch refused to admit to searching for them, and the others were inclined to believe her. It was that or find out how fireproof they were without Psynergy.
"Why the stone, anyway? Why all the rough unshaped rock surfaces with moss and stuff on them?" Core brushed against one of the walls he was complaining about, and shuddered. "And why are they all sort of disgustingly damp?"
"It's expected," Torch replied. "I don't understand. It shouldn't be this hard to find an arcane artefact of awesome force."
"Whoever's in charge could have at least put up signs," said Breeze sarcastically.
"'Third Sub-Dungeon: Executions, Terrible Beasts of Darkness, Psynergy-Defeating Constructions, and Free Kittens'," Salt suggested.
"That'd be perfect," Whorl agreed.
"Will you shut up?" Torch demanded. "I'm trying to think, you ankle-biting menaces."
"Well, what do you expect? You've got eleven elementals with you and you're trying to do everything on your own. How about delegating?" asked Chill.
"…Removing gates? Actually, Garet was talking about that-"
"Giving other people responsibility."
"To do what?"
"…Well, actually, that's a good question," Chill admitted.
"It's this way," Eddy announced. The other Djinn turned to him. "It's in the pattern of wear on the floor, and in the moss. You can see that plenty of people have gone along this corridor, but they always turn left, except for one path that goes right, all alone."
"Um… good work," said Torch, off-balance. "Let's keep moving."
"I've been wondering," said Vine as they started following Eddy's lead, "exactly how you plan to stop whatever's blocking our Psynergy. I mean, it could be anything."
"Son -and I say that in a patronising way, not a familiar one, because you're an Earth-aligned misfit, if intelligent and somewhat cute- I am not going to be stopped from saving Garet, and I don't care what is blocking our Psynergy, I am going to see it destroyed if it is the last achievement of my life, which it couldn't be, because we're immortal, or at least we will be as soon as we get our Psynergy back, so this is a matter of life and death and it's going to be someone else's death," Torch replied.
"You know, I've heard that some grandmothers bake cookies and stuff," Echo commented.
"I'm not your grandmother. I'm a Mars Djinni having a very bad day."
"Here," said Eddy. "The path stops at this door."
"Does it come back out?" asked Wheeze.
"I think so. Yeah, looks like it."
"Good. I didn't want to accidentally follow the one idiot who stumbled into the scorpion pit room or something," the Jupiter Djinn explained.
"Oh. Yes. Quick thinking, that." Core leapt into action and slagged the lock from the inside out, but still the rather nondescript iron door refused to move. Torch sighed, released a wave of unquenchable heat energy, and most of the rest of it melted, too, revealing the parts that probably used to be another half-dozen locks. Echo shoved the ruin aside and they entered.
The Djinn simply stared for a while. Without any conferring with each other, they all had the same thoughts. First they wondered if this really was the Psynergy-blocker, and eventually decided that it had to be. Then the question of how it could have been made sprang to mind, quickly shoved aside by Who Cares, Let's Get Rid Of It, who was making an incredible testimonial when How Do You Intend To Do That crashed the mental party. The chaos only ended when Stop Sitting There Like Lawn Ornaments And Figure Something Out broke a metaphor over the others' collective heads.
The offending thing sat in a large dish on a short steel pedestal in the middle of the room, casting wavering shadows on the walls that looked too often like silhouettes of people (or things shaped sort of like people) for any of the Djinn's liking.
"Great," said Coal. "It's a huge fire. It's a huge, unnatural, Psynergy-blocking fire. Do we have a backup plan?"
[Author's Notes] Hah. Bet you thought you had seen the last of this. Not so, it's far too much fun. Of course, classes are going to cause trouble for actually updating, but it'll be completed, don't you doubt it. That is, if you want it to be completed. And the correct way of telling me that you do? A special signalling technique called RBP, or 'review button pressing'. Get to it.