Author's Note: So I did a little chapter moving…I added the Prologue, which should clear up a few things for everyone. And I didn't think it would be fair to tease you into thinking that I'd actually posted a new chapter…so I decided to post the next installment. Enjoy!
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Heero Yuy didn't bother to acknowledge Duo's presence as the man sauntered up next to him, joining him as he leaned against the catwalk that overlooked the equipment hangar. By now, Duo was so used to this unspoken greeting that he never expected anything else. He supposed that he and Heero would continue their silent camaraderie for as long as they lived; it was simply the way they worked. However, his usual introductory jest died on the tip of his tongue; today, it wouldn't be appreciated. Well, no time like the present. "Ariel knows."
That made him look up. For anyone else, such a small gesture was equal to an outburst; despite the years, Heero Yuy was still showed as much emotion as a particularly stubborn wall. "How'd it go?" Casual, indifferent to any outside observer; but the fact that he even bothered to ask betrayed his feelings – concern, worry, anxiety. How funny that having children could turn even the coldest soldier into a human being. Well, sort of a human being.
"Um…good?" Oh, Maxwell, you are such a liarBut he smiled in a convincing way, even though it wouldn't do any good; not only did his 'convincing smile' look extremely shady, but the man next to him was like a freaking lie detector.
Heero sighed and his brows furrowed, though in a conspicuously nonchalant way. They were both alarmingly good at the whole nonchalant thing. "What cell is she in? Did they drug her?"
"Actually she never got there. Doc said she was only mad for about two minutes, because we kept it from all of them for so long."
"And the rest of it?"
Duo's careless shrug contradicted the worry in his eyes. "Doc said she took it all in stride. Expected it, almost. Doc says that's a weird way to react. She doesn't know if 'Rie can handle it."
"She can handle it," Heero said quickly, with easy confidence. But he's not, Duo thought. "Where is she?"
Duo sighed. "The Well." The Well – aka The Wishing Well. It was Sperare's room, the one they always went to for debriefing and conference and just a haven. The boys had made fun of the name at first, but it just stuck. What better namesake than the place where hope was born and wishes were cast? "If I know her, she's waiting for the group to get back from the crash site."
Heero nodded tritely, briefly turning his head to give Duo a cursory glance before turning back to the railing. "It'll be fine. If anything, this changes everything we've ever known. The research was conclusive, you know." For him, it was a speech.
Duo's eyes turned grim. "I know. But at what price, Heero? What price will they pay?"
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Lander let his knees absorb the impact of his weight as he hopped from the open Helo door to land in an easy crouch. Rocking back on his heels, he silently scanned the empty field before them. His dusty brown hair thrashed in a wild windblown halo around his head as the aircraft's rotors beat quietly above him. Not breaking his steady scan, he lifted his hand and motioned behind him before moving away from the door. His mind absently registered a soft thump; the wind stopped, and another thump followed. Stars and Kale, leaving the Scythe and killing the engine. He let his eyes take in every inch of the open area one last time before straightening and turning to his companions. His voice was the barest of whispers, thrown to carry to only two other pairs of ears. "It's clear."
The heat sensors had shown as much, of course, but technology was known to have its faults. He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt; the air here was still, much different than the Core City. It was just barely too warm to be covered from head to toe in black. Reaching into one of the cargo pockets of his pants, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and put them on; Kale and Stars did the same. Wordlessly, they turned away from the Helo and set off towards the crash site. Kale had put the Scythe down in a small clearing, surrounded by a thicket of trees. It was a necessary precaution.
A few minutes later, they emerged from the stand of pine trees and faced a rural blacktop road. Intel had said that it hadn't been used much since the Fall, and if the condition of the road was any indication, it hadn't been used at all. The group set off in a steady run, single file. They had landed several miles away from the crash site, a good thirty minutes on foot; well, thirty minutes on foot at their pace. Most people wouldn't be able to keep up at their steady clip. The steady weight of the pistols at his ankle, hip, and shoulder, and the knife on his thigh, was a comfort.
There was nothing but the road, and the fixed sound of their feet striking the pavement. Lander steeled himself for what was to come. They – he – had been on more missions than he could count, and seen more than he ever wanted. The emotional mask came easy now; in fact, he had to remind himself to take it off sometimes. But something was different about this case. Something was off, just like the wind was off and the shadows were off and the road was off. It couldn't be explained, it just was. He followed his gut, and his gut was telling him there was something important in the air. And he was positive that it wasn't just the fact that they were missing a member. No, it was something out of place, something that didn't belong in the deserted Kentucky plains. An emotion of sorts, one that was thick in the air like some sort of gas, one that was different from all the others, that didn't fit at the solemn site of a plane crash.
The sight of a house jarred his train of thought from its tracks. It was deserted, its door swinging haphazardly on a broken hinge. A deflated basket ball was left alone on the porch; vines were almost upon it, reaching out with their controlling tendrils to claim it for their own. He had seen the house's like many times before. Actually, it was almost refreshing to see a home that wasn't just a crumbling chimney peeking through rubbish, or rafters, black with soot, jutting from ashes. Few had been spared in the raids after the Fall.
As they came around a curve in the road, he saw it -- the remains of the Kanori Wind Dancer, spread chaotically in what could have been an old cow pasture, surrounded by trees. The twisted metal and acrid smell gave the quiet serenity of the landscape a newfound harshness that wasn't particularly pleasant. A bird called from his left, breaking the silence. It was a few seconds before it hit him that that one lone sound had been the only bird he'd heard since landing. Odd, he thought. Most of the wildlife had long cleared out of areas near cities, and they wouldn't be caught dead anywhere in the proximity of the crash; surely the smell of smoke and death would keep any bird, no matter how sociable, away. The solemn note sounded again, and he frowned thoughtfully; damn if he didn't know that bird. It almost sounded like a…peacock! Impossible. Peacocks don't nest in pine trees in --
Kale summed it up for him in a quiet hiss. "Damn. We've been had." The look on his face said that he had recognized the exotic bird's call too.
Lander grinned ruefully. I knew this was turning out to be way too easy. He slid into the usual banter that occupied them on missions. "Well, take out my eyeballs and fry them in ginger. There might be some fun today after all."
Stars gave him an incomprehensible look that might have passed for dry amusement. "We are being watched," he intoned solemnly. His eyes scanned the surrounding terrain restlessly.
Thank you, oh wise sage.
Kale looked around irritably. "I hate peacocks," he said sullenly.
Lander snorted. "How can you hate peacocks? That's like…hating bottled water. It's a waste of hate, man. Besides, peacocks are pretty. You're just jealous."
"Jealous!" Kale sputtered. "Me, jealous of that bird? A bird that is so ostentatiously tacky that it is chased and pelted with Cheetos by zoo-going children around the world?"
Lander nodded absently. "Blue isn't really your color."
"I look good in every color –"
Stars cleared his throat impatiently. "Are you finished? This," he said flatly, "is not getting anything accomplished."
Kale and Lander both gave each other 'I-dare-you' looks, then turned to survey the surroundings with their leader. The sun had opened from the clouds and was too bright, even through sunglasses. Lander shaded his eyes and looked across the field spread out in front of them. The remains of the plane was a good 200 yards away – and it was very obviously a plane. Instead of tiny littering pieces like he'd expected, there were huge chunks of metal; it looked like someone had sliced the Dancer in quarters.
He frowned thoughtfully. "Ares made it sound like there was hardly enough debris to fill a matchbox, but if you sewed that together," he gestured towards the scorched plane, "you could practically fly it. It's like a bunch of puzzle pieces. And not a hard one."
Stars nodded; his brow was creased in concentration. "Yeah, a puzzle for a little kid."
"A really stupid little kid," Kale added helpfully.
If Lander had turned any slower, he would have missed it. There, a flash of movement in the copse of trees behind what was left of the plane. He stilled, his eyes narrowing and his hand automatically going to the gun at his hip. A barely audible click sounded beside him as Stars released the safety on his own weapon. The three of them had instinctively moved into a triangle, back to back, each poised to act on the slightest whim.
There had been someone in those trees – there was no way that it could have been an animal, let alone a peacock, even if someone had been spoon-feeding the thing Miracle Grow for the past five years. A blanket of grim confirmation settled over him. That meant that there was more than one person out there; the bird call had to be some means of communication between whoever was out there, waiting for them.
Beside him, Kale was lazily watching the trees with all the aloofness of a panther that was pretending not to watch his prey. Stars was behind him, but Lander could feel the strength emanating from him – the controlled acceptance of whatever they would soon face. He himself was spending half his attention on being annoyed that it was before noon on a Monday – a 'vacation' day, nonetheless – and half on trying to keep his stomach from growling, even as a fine rush of adrenaline sped through him.
A minute passed. Two. Stars spoke quietly, without lowering his gun. "Hide and seek, we're it." He didn't wait for their response. They all broke from each other, trotting on silent feet in opposite directions; Lander slinked across the field, toward the Wind Dancer and the trees behind it, not really caring that he was in open firing range.
When he got within thirty feet of the fallen plane, his steps faltered, slowing to a jerking walk. It was cold. He huffed, and saw his breath crystallize in front of him; hurriedly, he pulled his sleeves back down into place. Hadn't he just been thinking how hot it was? Why had the temperature dropped so suddenly? And it had been such a stark change. One moment, it was just a touch too hot, then the next step had made goose flesh rise on his arms. He stopped, and backed up ten steps. The change was instantaneous. He was back in the heat. It was like the remains of the plane and the air around it was incased in a bubble of cold. He stepped back in. It had to be twenty degrees cooler. Treading carefully, he started forward again, waiting for something to come jumping out at him.
Boo, he thought. Nope, nothing.
Lander took another step forward, then another. Frowning, he stopped and rubbed a hand across his eyes, blinking. It…it was misting. The sort of mist that comes just after a hard rain, the kind that is seen but not felt, like a haze over the eyes. Only it hadn't rained in the past six hours. Ten feet around the debris, and it was misting. Hot damn. Water density, my ass, he thought.
He reached in his pocket and retrieved out a small metal disk, about the size of a quarter. A plastic tab stuck out of its side. He pulled it. The disk gave a small vibration; it was on. He held it in his palm as he closed the distance to the debris; he walked a full circle around what was left of the plane, then re-pocketed the disk. It would've recorded everything from air pressure to pH values, and transmitted them back to the KIC. He turned back to the Wind Dancer. The seams where it had been ripped apart were not ragged…they were strait. And they dripped with water. He peered into the shell of the plane. It looked untouched. Straight off the assembly line. There was no trace of human life. And the seats were dark – with water stains. He fumbled with his sunglasses; they could take pictures.
After taking several pictures of the plane, he set off again for the trees beyond it. About thirty feet past the plane, the air suddenly became hot again. He didn't flinch this time, only push his sleeves – which were now damp – back up. Water dripped from his hair. He shook it out, and kept walking until he reached the trees, and slipped among them.
It was like stepping into another world. The trees were thick, and he was immediately immersed into a hazy half-light, as if he had stepped into a room lit by the glow from under a cupboard door. The wind ruffled the branches around him, and the light shattered into pinpricks and the world became a whirling kaleidoscope of green and gold. The loud silence that can only be found among ancient trees flowed around him, through him. The forest was like a river around him, adapting itself to his presence, molding to his every nuance. A cluster of dead leaves danced at his boots, calling his feet to play, and the sound was loud. He knew right away, with the certainty of a predator, that there was no one else in the wood. It was a skill earned with instinct, honed on rough city streets. He couldn't explain it, even to himself. Especially to himself. He just knew, without a doubt, that he was the only disturber to these woods. At least at the moment. Now, whether someone had been here, and how long ago, was something he could find out. He wasn't known for his tracking abilities, at least not in this environment. The trees just didn't speak to him like the city did. Give him a crowded metropolis any day. Finding needles in those types of haystacks were his forte. But here, in the open…well, he wasn't a woodsman by any means. Stars and Raven, especially, were the best at tracking through forests. But still, skill was skill, right? If someone had been here recently, he would find out. Cold hard evidence, that's the ticket.
Lander set off at a slow pace, letting the dense foliage bend around him, moving carefully, straining all of his senses. After about five seconds, he started to feel very much like Elmur Fudd, hunting That Damn Rabbit. This was strangely unsettling. He had always liked to play Bugs Bunny. The fact that Elmur Fudd never won wasn't lost on him.
Something glinted through the trees, and he froze, for the hundredth time that day. His muscles were probably going to hurt like hell tomorrow from seizing so much. The wind ruffled his hair, and the glint came again; without a second thought, he moved towards it.
It was a…space. A large tree grew in a space, with no brush or anything but grass around it for a few feet. It was a huge difference between the thick claustrophobia of the rest of the wood, even though the small 'clearing' was barely big enough for him to stand in. The sun still came in that dim sort of half-light, blocked by the branches of the huge oak tree. The light breeze shifted those branches, and a ray of sun illuminated part of the tree; suddenly, light was reflected all around him. When the branches shifted back, the light stopped. A tiny glass vial hung from a satin ribbon on one of the low branches; every time the sun had hit it, the light had refracted. Lander reached toward it, cradling it in his palm. The glass was dark blue, but it was almost completely covered by an old silver clasp. Engraved on the clasp was a wolf. It was a spirit bottle.
He stepped back and made sure to take pictures of it from all angles, then he reached up and slid the ribbon off the branch and placed the bottle in his pocket. He had a feeling that he had found all he was going to find, but he continued on until he reached the end of the wood, then doubled back to find Stars and Kale.
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When the boys trudged tiredly into the Well four hours later, Raven was still waiting for them. She leapt for the door the moment she felt them turn down the hall. It took a lot of willpower to stand and wait the nine seconds it took for them to reach the door, and the time it took for the security scan to let them in seemed like an eternity, even though it was instantaneous. As soon as the door opened, she was there; Stars took half a step into the room before she stopped him, reaching up and cupping his face in her hands, drawing his eyes into her wide and searching ones.
"What's wrong? I had this feeling…"
He grimaced and rolled his shoulders. "Sorry. I'm just restless, that's all."
For a moment, both pairs of eyes, so alike, yet so different, held fast as Raven and Stars spoke in a way that only twins could. She watched him take in her face; the sadness, the anger at him and everybody, the sickness the anger had caused, the shock of meeting with Mac, and finally the complete, encompassing worry for him and Lander and Kale. She saw questions in his eyes, confusion, and a quiet pleading, a want of understanding. He couldn't understand her any more, and it scared him.
A throat cleared behind them. "As…interesting… as this sibling reunion is, it would be peachy if you could move out of the doorway. We look like dumb sidekicks, standing out in the hall like this." Lander didn't sound irritated. Only tired.
Without a pause, Stars reached up and gripped her forearms, picking her up and backing her into the room. When he set her down, he leaned forward slightly so that their noses almost touched. "Its nothing," he said softly, emphatically. Her eyes widened briefly in comprehension, and she released him just as quickly as she'd run to him. She immediately turned to her two other teammates, giving them each similar searching glances, inspecting for injury and injustice.
Kale sighed dramatically, dry amusement playing on his face. He walked to her, grabbing a lock of her mahogany hair between his long fingers and giving it a mild tug. "Relax, cousin. We're fine." He spread his hands, an easy, confident smirk tugging on his mouth. "See? Perfect."
She cleared her throat to hide her smile, and again let her eyes fall on each of her 'brothers,' coming back to rest on the one in front of her. Only Kale could make you think that he had woken up this morning and purposely rolled in dirt for stylish reasons. If he had been born ugly, he'd probably have a much more bearable personality. His shoulder-length hair had been pulled back, showing off his strong, clean face. The dirt smudged across his face didn't do anything to keep him from being almost too striking to look at. The dark, knowing looking in his ice blue eyes said he knew exactly what she was thinking. Despite the war, he still remained a Peacecraft, a prince, and he would never forget it. Or let you forget it.
Her eyes moved to Stars. Technically, he was just as much of a blue-blood as Kale. But where Kale was smooth, arrogant grace, disdainful smirks and designer clothes, Stars was just Stars. He was easy indifference, casual strength, jeans and cashmere. Yet, the sheer presence of him would cause heads to turn in a room. He was the man that people looked to for leadership. He didn't try; it just came naturally. And, not to mention, Stars was almost the spitting image of their father. At 6'2", he was an inch taller, and broader-shouldered. But he had the same high cheekbones, the strong jaw-line, the utterly masculine face. The straight, patrician nose and elegant mouth came from their mother's side. But those eyes – those blue, blue eyes -- were all Heero. He had shadowy, feathery eyelashes that were long enough to make any woman green with envy. His dark, mahogany hair was just too long, always falling into his eyes, and nearly brushing his collar in the back. It wasn't a fashion statement like Kale's; he just hadn't gotten around to cutting it.
And Lander – he was less than an inch taller than Stars, making him a good two inches shorter than Kale. He wasn't breath-taking, or heart-stopping, but he was handsome, in a careless sort of boy-next-door way. His honey-brown hair was dandelion-soft, and when the sun hit his skin, he looked like a bronzed sun-prince. His face had his mother's delicate boning combined with his father's depth. Violet eyes peeked out from under sandy lashes; he could do the best 'innocent' look she'd ever seen. But only when he tried; usually, those eyes were playful-if-not-naughty, like he was laughing at a joke that only he heard. He had a roguish grin that rivaled his father's.
Sometimes, it was hard to forget just how handsome the three of them were, Raven thought wryly. Especially with Kale reminding her all the time. Even if they were about as similar as three completely dissimilar things in a pod.
She suddenly wrinkled her nose. "You all smell rather…uh, shady."
Lander grinned. Stars ducked his head. Kale blinked, then laughed. "Yeah, I suppose we do." He looked extremely satisfied.
"I guess we should change first," Stars looked a little sheepish. They turned and filed into a connecting room. Raven sat down cross-legged in one of the black leather recliners in the room. Ten minutes later, the boys filed out again, complete with shower-damp hair and clean clothes; they took seats around each other.
It seemed like it was taking forever. Raven was going to go crazy before they all got settled.
"Raven, you're twitching." Stars was staring at her.
Kale nodded. "You look like a neurotic deer." He motioned to her hands, which were shaking, and frowned. "Stop that."
Then, the door opened. Raven let out a relieved breath. Saved by the coordinator. Odin swept in, carrying a tray; he set it on the table and grinned proudly. "Just call me tea and crumpet man."
"Tea and Crumpet Man," Kale said, with malignant glee.
Lander's stomach growled loud enough for her to hear. They were used to this. "I'd rather call you beer and pizza man, but this works." He reached for the tray and came back with both hands full of cookies. "Thanks."
"I'll call you anything you want if," Stars said, "you can figure out this whole Wind Dancer mess."
"Anything?" Odin grinned. He looked at Kale, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"That we dress him in red gingham and make him swim in a pool of treacle while he calls you Doctor Bigshorts?"
Stars laughed. "You mean like the time we made you stand in your boxers in front of the Pyramid with a sign that said 'I've lost that loving feeling'?"
"Only in your dreams, Dante."
Stars frowned thoughtfully. "Was it cold that day?"
Kale choked back a laugh. "Sod off, you blundering --"
Raven had been laughing silently for awhile now. She felt positively giddy. It was normal for them to exchange banter, even in bad situations. If you let everything get to you, you wouldn't survive. But for some reason, today it seemed outrageously silly. Maybe because she had spent the last four hours discussing the Apocalypse. She clasped both hands over her mouth, trying to hold it in, but she couldn't. Finally, she burst out laughing; her eyes were wild. She was going to hyperventilate, she knew it.
All four of them were staring at her in open concern. Kale reached out to touch her, but she jerked away from him twisting out of her chair. "Don't touch me." His eyes narrowed and his face froze over into acidic blankness. She shivered, but not because of him. "Have you ever had the feeling that things were beginning to... unravel? Something eating away at the fabric of the world, a curious feeling that something is wrong somewhere? And things are getting worse."
Lander looked mildly philosophical. "I completely agree. Sometimes I think the world has gone completely mad. Then I think, 'Awe, who cares?' Then I think, 'Hey, what's for supper?'
Odin stood next to him; none of them had taken their eyes off her. "Do try to suppress the urge not to be a blithering idiot, Lander." He turned to Stars. "She's been with Doc Mac all afternoon."
Stars had stood; he made no move toward her, but the pain was clear in his eyes. "Raven…"
She laughed again. Boys. "You don't have to talk over me, Odin. I'm right here," she spat. "So, did you know?"
Odin's face went completely blank. Her stomach clenched, and she almost retched. She had hoped it wasn't as she'd though, but of course, it was. He had known.
Stars looked defensive, angry. "What's this about?"
All the laughter in her died. It wasn't funny anymore. It never had been. She sank to the floor, and waited for them to set back down. The prominent look on the faces around her was confused, maybe a little curious. "I'm an Empowered, that's what."
"And? What the hell does that mean?" Lander shrugged.
Kale snorted. "It means she's going to swell like a pumpkin and eat us for breakfast tomorrow," he said with bitter sarcasm. "It doesn't mean anything. All it does is give whatever's wrong with her a fancy name."
"That's right," Raven said scathingly. "Because I'm defective."
His eyebrows furrowed, and he frowned. "I didn't mean—"
She sighed. "Oh, can it, all of you." She felt like someone had kicked her repeatedly with a steel-toed boot.
"Our fathers," she began, "—and our coordinator—have been keeping secrets."
Odin opened his mouth, but she stopped him with her hand, and sighed. Blaming people wouldn't help with anything. God, she was tired.
"Twenty years ago, before the Fall, back when all that time-travel hype was going on, all of those scientists and astronauts and others started trying to manipulate space-time continuum…even though they worked on it for years, no one ever succeeded."
Lander nodded. "Because wormholes and gateways cannot support human life."
She nodded. "Right. But as it turns out, according to Mac, one group got a little more than they bargained for…one of the smaller, less well-known researching groups, made up of mostly physicists, found a method of atomic 'drawing,' that could cut away at the molecules of the physical plane. They thought they could change the atomic structure of a section of the plane to accommodate time-travel…but they didn't. Anyway, to make a long story short, they created a rip in the Universal Plane. That was sixteen years ago." She frowned and shook her head. "That's unreal. It's so impossible. But they did."
Kale was looking at her carefully. "And what does that mean?"
Odin answered, raking his fingers through his hair. "It means," he sighed, "that they made a multi-planar hole. Think of it as layers; they tore a hole in the thick, first layer, and now you can see the other layers underneath. We think it's only one other layer though, for now."
Kale waved his hand impatiently. "No, I mean, what does it mean? Who cares about a little rip in the fabric of consciousness if it doesn't do anything?"
"That's what the Leaders thought…they'd known about it since it first happened, of course, them and a few others who were world leaders at the time. But tests were run and it was found to be completely…dormant. But as of late, things have been going…strangely. There is a satellite in space that was put up strictly to monitor that Rip…apparently, everyone had practically forgotten about it until it started to…pulse a few months ago. They told me, and Mac, about it three weeks ago. She's been up to her ears doing research and analysis and all sorts of tests."
"At the risk of sounding moronically repetitive," Kale said, "what does that mean, exactly? And what does it have to do with Raven?"
"Mac identified a…link between me, the satellite, and the Rip…she thinks I've been the one causing it to pulse. She also thinks that it's just beginning. Oh, and that I'm definitely not the only one who's been affected. There's a chance that there could be people out there with all sorts of abilities."
Stars looked a little desperate. "You mean like, 'Hello my name is Frank and I have x-ray vision?'"
She nodded. "Something like that. But she did say that she hasn't been able to find much evidence of anything, and that everything is probably in the very early stages of development. The likelihood that someone out there is living like Batman is…not very good." she finished weakly.
Lander was quiet. "What about ripping a plane apart with water?"
Everyone turned and stared at him. He got up and went to the table, pressing a button and bringing out a video screen. He fished in his pocket and brought out a transmitter disc, and slid it into place. "I sent the information and the pictures back to this receiver, so it should be here. I fiddled with the control pad on the table top. "Come on, you obnoxious little piece of scrap metal, work…ah. There we go."
The screen flooded to life as numbers began to scroll and pictures began to fill the screen. Pictures of the crashed plane. The ragged, gaping pieces. The cleanness, the emptiness of the interior. In one, a single water droplet was poised to fall from an armrest. The numbers were worse, in the way things are when they are touched with the dawning, horrible comprehension of truth. There had been water everywhere – pure water. It wasn't overly acidic or anything; no extras that would slice a plane into pieces. Lander told them of the mist, and the temperature change. The numbers confirmed it.
No one really said anything. It was all weird, too weird, and too fast. Water couldn't have done that.
Then, the pictures changed to a bottle, hanging in a tree. Stars sat up straight. "Where did you get that?"
The look on Lander's face said he thought about saying something really sarcastic, but thought better of it. "It was hanging in the trees behind the Dancer."
Stars stood and felt in his pocket, then extracted an identical small bottle, with one change: the bottle in the picture had a wolf on it; Stars' had a dragon. Lander looked at him, then reached in his own pocket and pulled out the wolf-bottle. They blinked at each other. "It was in the woods I looked in." They both turned to Kale.
He shrugged. "As much fun it would be to say 'me too,' I didn't find one. Which means there were only those two."
Raven frowned, and peered at the bottles. "That's odd, I didn't think anyone still believed in Spirit Bottles. And look, those bottles are old, but the strings look new…someone's been using them."
"What's a spirit bottle?" Odin asked.
"Spirit Bottles," Stars said, "were worn a long time ago – the ancient times, probably – as protective talismans. They were said to ward of evil spirits, or sometimes even held a spirit of their own that belonged to the owner."
Kale was looking at the bottles curiously. "Does anyone else find it rather odd that the dragon and the wolf on the bottles look suspiciously like two other dragons and wolves we know?"
No one had to ask him to explain. There were four symbols in the Killer Angels, each representing a different rank. Pegasus, Dragon, Griffin, and Wolf. The highest was Pegasus, but just the Wolves were enough to give you nightmares for several years. There was no way that any of the Killer Angels had been there, at the plane crash. They weren't a very secret group; any movement by even a few of them would have alerted the moles that Kanor had amongst them. Especially the movement of a Dragon. There was no way. And yet, here were these…spirit bottles, that had been hung in trees where they would be found…found by Sperare.
"I don't want to jump the gun, so to speak," Odin said slowly, "But I would get ready to go to Fovuc."
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End Notes:
Okay, that's part one of chapter one. Forty-one pages on my word processor. Part two is about three quarters of the way finished – I've got about 35 pages done so far. Since I'm posting in installments, however, ya'll should get the first taste of part two very soon.
Next time we'll go into Fovuc's point-of-view and meet a few Very Interesting People. Yippy-chi-yay. Go to my author bio for a cookie.
Credits:
"Want to race back to the station, Sparky" is from the Top 100 Things You Never Say to a Cop. So is "Back off, Barney, I've got a piece."
"…compared to five minutes with me and this pencil" – Blackadder
"Have you ever had the feeling…." – Strange
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