Uncloaked

"Hey, Cole," Lloyd began as he trudged along between Jay and Zane. The ever vigilant falcon and osprey were flying together high overhead, scrutinizing the land for signs of danger. "Where are we going?"

"My home," Cole replied curtly. Sweat beaded at his forehead; they had been walking for at least an hour and the heat was unnecessarily harsh, per the norm.

"Which is where?" Lloyd inquired further.

"In the ground."

"So...you live in a hole in the ground?" Lloyd asked.

"Yes." Cole snapped. "A dark, dingy hole with several inches of water covering the floor and slimy, scum-coated walls."

Zane cringed as the sharp words left the Black Knight's mouth. "Water?" He repeated calmly. "In your home? Very unlikely. And you're much too clean for scum and mildew." The pack he carried weighed heavily on his shoulders. Jay and Lloyd carried packs of supplies, too. Cole was the only one without a pack, since he claimed that all of his supplies were in his home.

"I know," Cole retorted. "I'm trying to scare the kid. Stop ruining my fun."

Jay laughed. "You're real funny, you know that?" He asked. "If you'd just open up a little more, I might even be tempted to become your friend."

The left side of Cole's cheek twitched. "It's a good thing I wasn't planning on opening up to you, then." He said. "But to answer your question seriously, Lloyd, we're following the river upstream until we get to the spot where the strait narrows. Then we turn right and climb the pile of rocks that form the base of a sandy hill. The entrance to my home- which is clean and dry, by the way- is located between two rocks near the base."

Lloyd whistled. "So specific," he remarked. "Well, at least we know that if I get separated from you guys I can still find a place to hang out."

"You said that it is a strait," Jay observed. "Obviously this river drains into the sea, but what body of water is at the other end of this river?"

"A lake," Cole said. "But I never go there. Too many people."

"There are people here?" Zane inquired.

"Women," Cole said, in a low tone. He was clearly losing his patience from all these questions. "The stone men aren't literally stone, you know. The Overlord's dark power gives them hard shells and a brain of mush, but they are still human. Those women are there to do the chores and..." His face darkened. "To put it lightly, they are slaves who are forced to do whatever pleases the men. Harlots, slaves, whores... Take your pick, I've got more."

Jay's face paled. "That's what happened to everybody?" He asked. "I always wondered when I was younger, but..." He trailed off, perturbed.

Cole cleared his throat in an expressive manner. "While we're on the track of stone warriors, I might as well ask you all a question."

"Shoot," Lloyd said with a nod, obviously glad that the subject had been changed.

"What happened before you all entered Wu's hut earlier?" The Black Knight asked. "You were all breathless and a bit disoriented as if you had been running from something."

"Indeed," Zane nodded. "Forgive us, we should have informed you sooner. Scouts had been on their way to the beach because they heard Nya's mech and were coming to check it out. We were running so that we would not get found. They did not ever see us."

"Yep," Jay interjected. "Hopefully they didn't find the spot where we hid the mech, 'cause it's our only way home. I doubt that Garmadon will send a ship to save a couple marooned fools."

"He will if one of those 'marooned fools' is his son," Lloyd argued. "You underestimate the power us nobles have, Jay. My dad wouldn't dare leave us here forever."

Jay set his jaw and clenched his fists around the straps of his pack. "If only I could share your faith," he said. "My early experiences with Garmadon haven't exactly been all loyalty and kindness."

Zane examined Jay's suddenly cold, grim face. So it is him, he thought with a mixture of regret, pity, and excitement. What are the odds of actually meeting him again after all these years of being in isolation?

"Really?" Lloyd addressed the thief with a grin. "Well, my father never did like criminals."

Jay looked away, face flushed with barely restrained anger. "No one likes a criminal," he said sourly. "No one at all."

Nya sat with her legs crossed in the sand, staring off into the deep indigo expanse of sky as she cupped a dried blossom in her palm. She shivered. With the sun coming down, the air was becoming cold. She was glad that Wu was leaving her alone with her thoughts; she needed some time alone.

When she had first heard the news of John Keith's death fifteen years ago, she had been devastated. The Overlord kept none alive; every man, woman, and child on the once beautiful island of Keitorin had been massacred, according to the reports. King Garmadon had received the news of the siege too late to be of any help. By the time his soldiers had arrived in their ships, the island had already been destroyed. The villages had been burned to the ground. The mansion where the Keith family had lived was reduced to rubble.

Nya had never fully recovered from the shock. She had been nine when it had happened, still vulnerable and delicate. It had shattered her heart. Although she never admitted it, that was the reason she could never find a suitable man to court. She feared that if she dared to grow close to any man like that again, he would pass away like John had.

Only...John did not pass. If Wu was telling the truth (and he had no reason to lie), the heir to the Western throne was still alive, possibly in the South.

In the South, of all places! He had been there the whole time, no more than a carriage ride away!

Nya found that her hands were trembling with anticipation as she held the blossom in her palm, being careful not to let the wind carry it away. If John had been living in the South for fifteen years, why hadn't he contacted her? The question had been eating away at her for hours, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not find a suitable answer.

"Why are you still out here?" A gentle voice spoke behind her.

Nya slipped the dried blossom back into the locket around her neck before turning her head to face Wu. "I'm thinking," she said.

The prince chuckled. "Good answer," he said. "What's that little flower you were holding a moment ago?"

Nya looked away. The stars were starting to come out, twinkling like candles in a sea of darkness. "A gift," she said. "From one of my friends a long time ago."

"Hmm," Wu grunted. "Jay, right?" He asked.

Nya examined his face to see if he was joking or not. It was hard to tell. "No," she answered. "John."

Wu nodded. "You and John were close?" He asked.

The noblewoman blinked. How was one supposed to answer such a question? They only saw each other once a year, and that was during the earliest period of her life.

It had been so long that she hardly remembered his what he looked like. Blue eyes, reddish-brown hair, taller than her own brother. That was it. She couldn't remember if his nose was round or hooked, or if his face was square or diamond-shaped...

"I think so," Nya said finally. "I remember that him and my brother always had some sort competition going on. Anyone could tell that they were close, however much they would try to deny it. But John and I..." She trailed off with a sigh.

Wu ran a hand through his beard as he stared at some fixed point in the distance. "Your marriage to John was supposed to be another step towards world peace," he said. "Pivotal and important. Perhaps one day, when he finally decides to reveal himself, you can become close again."

For some reason, these words only confused Nya more. "What do you mean?" She asked. "You say 'reveal himself' like he's hiding or something."

"That's because he is hiding."

"But why?"

"He's afraid."

"Afraid of what?" Nya was becoming impatient. "And if he's alive, why hasn't he tried to contact me, or anyone else?"

"Because he's hiding." Wu replied with a smile. "What's the point of trying to contact people when you're hiding? But your first question...that's a good one. It deserves a good answer."

"So spill it," Nya said. "What is he so afraid of?"

"Himself," Wu answered. "That's my guess, at least. He's probably afraid of the man he has become. He thinks that if he shows his true identity to the world, no one will accept him because of his past."

"What did he do?" Nya asked. "Is he ashamed of his past as the son of a Lord who failed to protect his people, or is it his own actions that make him shy?"

"It's not my place to say," Wu sat down next to her and proffered a blanket. "It's getting cold. Here."

Nya took the blanket with a grateful nod and draped it over her shoulders. "I have so many other questions," she said tiredly. "Is he using a fake name to shake off suspicion? Does he remember his life as a nobleman? Does he even want to remember that life?"

Wu shrugged. "You will have to find those answers on your own," he said. "Just remember; only you can bring him back. If I am right, his main fear is that you will not accept him; he probably could not care less what the rest if the world thinks. He still wants you, I'm sure of it. But you need to make sure that he knows you still love him, too. Do you understand?"

Nya shook her head. "Not really," she admitted. "But...thanks. This helps a little." She laughed lightly. "It's a little ridiculous. I'm beating myself up over a boy I haven't seen since I was eight. How naive I was, to think that I was in love at such a young age. And yet...despite that...his disappearance sent a dagger through my heart."

She slowly lifted herself to her feet, using a cane for support. She could have walked without it, but Wu insisted that she rest herself and, unless she was sitting down, keep one hand on it at all times. "I'm going to see if I can squeeze in at least a few hours of sleep."

"Good," Wu said. "Please do. It has been a big day for all of us. I'm going to stay out here and meditate for a while. If you have any more questions, feel free to come out here and ask me."

And get annoyingly cryptic answers, Nya added in her mind. "Okay," she said out loud. "G'night."

"Pleasant dreams, Nya."

Jay sat with his legs dangling over the edge of a large rock outside of Cole's cave, deep in thought as he watched the first stars of the evening spark to life. His left foot kicked the face of the stone in an absent, restless way.

Cole's cave housed a variety of interesting gadgets. His single-burner stove ran off of propane and butane, a mixture that could heat water in a little under two minutes. On top of that, he had electric lanterns and flashlights that ran on battery power. The way that he had a river flowing through his cave was fascinating and ingenious. Sort of like indoor plumbing, just without all the overly complicated engineering that went with it.

All in all, it was an ideal layout for a rustic home in the woods... If you were rich. Jay was surprised by the number of fuel canisters and batteries that Cole had stored. Most people could only afford candles, and cooked their food over a fireplace. But Cole had no want for supplies that only upper-class citizens could get their hands on.

More stars began to follow the first, appearing faint in the beginning, but slowly gaining confidence as the sun drifted further away. Jay heard the sound of Lloyd's soft laughter in the cave behind him. Cole's short, cold voice offered some response to a question Lloyd was asking.

The thief listened to all of the commotion in a disengaged manner as he reached into his pocket and drew out a tiny journal. He always wrote down his thoughts when his mind was cluttered, such as it was now. The blank page seemed to invite him to write in it- to end the blank, white void and fill it with words.

"What are you doing, friend?" Zane's voice filled the air to his left. He cringed and let the pencil drift from the paper.

"Nothing," he answered as he shut the book. "Yourself?"

"Living, breathing, watching you tap your left foot on the stone repeatedly as if you have somewhere to be, and we are all holding you back." He sat down on the rock next to Jay, sounding more like a breath of wind than a robot.

Jay had no desire to leap into a conversation with the Northern nobleman. He fiddled with the long shaft of his pencil and tapped out a beat on the leather cover of his journal.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Zane asked finally.

What does he mean? Jay wondered. "Do you want an apology?"

"That would be nice." Zane replied.

"Ah," Jay exhaled a sharp breath. "Hmm, where to begin."

"You could start with those boots."

Jay cringed. "Yeah," he said. "It just-so-happens that we have the same foot size, and I needed a new pair. Sorry about that."

"You are forgiven," Zane said with a smile. "Anything else you want to apologize for?"

"Umm..." Jay lifted the pencil and poked his lip with the dull end. "Sorry about those horses I stole from your dad's pastures three years ago."

"That was you?" Zane asked with a disbelieving grin.

"You didn't know already?" Jay asked. "I left a sloppy trail of evidence at that one. My knife slipped while I was cutting the last tether, and I went straight through several arteries in my hand. There were bloodstains all over everything."

"The grooms assumed that a wolf spooked them," Zane said.

"Was there really that much blood?"

"Enough to make it look like four mares got spooked and cut their legs as they ran out of a carelessly unlocked pasture gate and into the woods?" Zane clarified. "My friend, you could have stolen six horses with the amount of blood smeared in the dirt around that pasture."

Jay dropped his head into his right hand. "I am such a klutz," he groaned.

"Oh, come now," Zane said. "Don't degrade yourself like that. It was what an artist calls a happy mistake. Instead of being held suspect, you flawlessly framed a wolf that never existed in the first place."

"You won't tell, will you?" Jay asked.

"No. That was years ago. There would be no point in bringing it to light."

"Thanks," Jay said, relieved.

"Don't mention it," Zane said. "But you forget one other apology."

Jay pondered this a moment. He had committed so many crimes, it was getting hard to remember how many of them had been against the nobles. "Well, there was that one time that I stole a crate of spears from one of your storerooms, but-"

"Hold it," Zane held up a hand. "I don't remember this one. Should I?"

"Maybe," Jay said. His face was starting to flush. Exactly how many things had he gotten away with? "There were only ten, and I wasn't able to get a good price on it. I ended up with a new vest out of the deal, but that was it. Hardly worth the trouble I went through to steal them."

"Huh," Zane grunted. "Well, I guess I can forgive you for that, too. But...oh, I'll just be a little more specific, then."

"What?" Jay pressed him.

"Nya," Zane said. "Have you apologized to her?"

Jay blinked back his surprise. "Did I do something to offend her?"

"John." Zane said his name- his real name- in a clipped tone. "She's been dying inside for fifteen years. You vanished without a trace and pretended to be dead. No one but Wu and your adoptive parents knew that you were even alive until today."

Jay stiffened. "H-how..." He stuttered. "Who told you?"

"No one," Zane said. "I figured it out myself. I've always thought that you looked familiar, but it took seeing you face-to-face, and noticing your bitterness toward Garmadon, for the similarities to click in my mind. I never forget a face."

Jay let out a forced laugh. "Yeah," he said. "That's kind of what I was afraid of. I think that even Kaytake and the Garmadons saw it. That's probably why they trusted me enough to send me off with their daughter and the heir to the throne all alone." He shrugged. "It's a foolish reason to trust me, but a reason nonetheless."

"Well, you are a blue blood," Zane pointed out. "Kaytake never was particularly clever. That's probably why His Majesty set him up as the leader in the South; he's frighteningly easy to manipulate, like a puppet."

Jay was surprised to hear Zane speak this way. It was a good thing no one was listening in on their conversation...

"But you never answered my question," Zane continued. "When are you going to apologize to Nya for staying away so long?"

Jay sighed. "Never," he said. "She doesn't want me. Not after what I've put her through. If she knew any more than she already does about my past, she'd hate me." He shook his head firmly. "I'd rather keep the friendly platonic relationship we have now than risk losing everything."

"I understand," Zane said. "But just remember, John Keith. Secrets are more trouble that they're worth."

"Don't call me that," Jay snapped angrily. "I am not that boy anymore. I gave up that name after my foster parents died."

A light gasp escaped Zane's mouth. "Your foster parents died, too?" He asked. "When? How?"

"Only four months after the Overlord's takeover," Jay said in a low tone. "I don't even know what happened. They sent me into town to get some supplies. When I came back, the house was burning, and they were..." He swallowed hard. The memory haunted him. The screams, the bright flames, the charred bodies that the officials had found after the ashes of his home had long since grown cold...

Zane rested a gentle hand on Jay's shoulder. "Why didn't you go to Kaytake for help?" He asked. "He would have taken you in."

Jay shook his head. "Why would I do that?" He asked. "I had lost two sets of parental figures in the same four months. Don't you realize the detrimental effects such experiences have on grown men, let alone terrified ten-year-olds? I thought that if I tried to get help again, I would only end up killing them, too."

Zane squeezed Jay's shoulder. His icy blue eyes reflected his younger friend's pain to a degree that almost made Jay feel guilty. This was his story, his burden. Why was he sharing it? The Nindroid already had enough on his plate with Pixal's death, he didn't need to be listening to this depressing stuff.

"I'm sorry," Jay apologized quickly. He turned away and shoved his journal into his pocket. "Dinner has to be done by now. Let's go eat."

"No," Zane said. "Dinner isn't done yet. Cole and Lloyd are still chopping potatoes. I'll go and help them. Please, stay up here and relax for a while. Take that little notebook out again, take some time to clear your mind. I'll come up with some excuse for why I came out here looking for an extra set of hands and came down...empty handed. No pun intended."

Jay shook his head and smiled lightly at that. "All right," he said. "Thanks." He turned back to look at Zane, but the Nindroid was already gone.

How does he move so silently? Jay wondered. The criminal world could really benefit from such a talent.

The warm air wafted around him in gentle spurts, rustling the leaves and pushing sand over the stones with soft hisses. It was all very nostalgic to him. Sure, it had been fifteen years since the last time that he'd been here, but this was his home, his birthplace. Not any cave in the South, or abandoned hut in the Middle, but here, among the huge, ugly palms and horrendous heat.

He reached back into his pocket and pulled out the journal. After flipping through a few pages, he found the medium-sized dried blossom of a petunia.

He smiled faintly as he looked at the faded flower. Preserving it had been hard, since petunias weren't flat. He had selected the violet for Nya because he knew it would press between pages well. Nya had selected this odd blossom because it was blue, his favorite color. The bud was beginning to crumble- one could only be so careful when always on the run- but its main shape and color had remained unsullied.

"Maybe one day," he whispered under his breath. "But not anytime soon."