The Last Night of the World

Chapter 11

The Mystery of Atlantis

-

Allen Schezar was frustrated. It had been three weeks since the hail came, and still he did not know what King Aston or his advisors planned to do about Palas. He did not know who they suspected was behind all this, if there was anyone to suspect. He did not know what King Aston was thinking, except that the king's mistrust of the knight seemed to have grown even deeper.

The stilted relationship between the king of Asturia and the young Knight of Caeli had been years in the breaking. King Aston never seemed to care for the fact that the twelfth and final recruit had once been an undisciplined, orphaned rogue. The first seeds of his displeasure were sown when Allen began to spend more and more time alone with his eldest daughter. Then Marlene was married off to the duke of Freid. Allen did not know what Aston suspected about him and Marlene, but he didn't have to wonder for long. After Chid was born, Allen began to be assigned the more mundane tasks and was always last to be named when Aston bestowed royal favor on the Caeli knights. People had always attributed Chid's pale skin and sun-bleached hair to Marlene's fair features, but those who also knew Allen might have noticed that the prince and the knight shared the same blue eyes. The years passed; Allen had his missions, Marlene had her duties. When Allen set foot in Freid for the first time, it was on the morning of Marlene's funeral. The mild spring day as he stood in front of her headstone would remain in his memory forever, the forget-me-nots in his hand wilting in the rain-kissed air.

Aside from Marlene, the princess Eries had been his only friend in the palace. But once Eries returned from visiting her baby nephew in Freid, her eyes had turned colder than the winter sky. Her smile—a wry quirking of her lips reserved only for those close to her—slowly faded until it disappeared altogether. On the other hand, the boisterous Millerna outgrew her knobby legs and short skirts, and everything about her began to remind Allen of Marlene. As Eries distanced herself from Allen, Millerna's blossoming interest in him surpassed a princess's concern for her knight. She grew more coy with each passing year, and Allen's missions became increasingly remote until he was finally assigned to an outpost on the border. That way, the king ensured that Allen only returned to Palas to report any major happenings. Which was not very often.

The princess was at a more than marriageable age now, and King Aston was not growing any younger. The longer she remained interested in Allen, the less likely she was to marry Dryden, or so Aston seemed to think. Ever since the war ended, the king had assigned Allen to patrol duty in the province surrounding Palas. It was close enough to the city that Allen could be called back immediately if necessary—a grudging admission of Aston's reliance on Allen's prowess—but far enough for Aston's peace of mind.

Aston's foresight had not been in vain. Now that disaster had struck Palas, the king wanted all twelve Knights of Caeli in the capital. In times of martial law, each knight commanded a patrol of men that regulated different sectors of the city. To his surprise, Allen had been allowed to retain his own crew of men in addition to the regiment that had been assigned to him. But he knew better than to question this unexpected boon; favors like this from the king were rare, and he could not afford to take them for granted.

In order to lead a team of soldiers, however, Allen needed direction. He needed to know what the king's goals were and what he was thinking. But the only directive he had received was to keep the peace in the southeast quarter of the Palas. He was able to glean bits and pieces from his fellow knights, who were oddly tight-lipped with their information. But what made him bitter was that he had to rely on Van, who received reports from Fanelia's head of intelligence, to find out what his own king was planning. Allen had to swallow his dignity and ask Van about the goings-on in the palace, pretending that he already knew where matters stood and was merely looking for an outlet to discuss his opinions. If Van saw through his façade, he didn't show it, which suited Allen just fine.

Allen had just given this week's report to the man standing in for General Saranoff, a beak-nosed fellow who clearly had better things to do than to deal with a knight who had fallen out of the king's favor. As usual, Allen received little more than a curt nod of dismissal in return. Now he was to return to his post and mind the industrial sector, a section of the city which had been all but deserted since the hail. It was a mind-numbing assignment, made even more so by being kept in the dark by King Aston.

The tall knight covered the palace grounds in calm strides that belied his inner tension. He had to go home to Celena. The day was hardly over, but he needed to see his sister, to know how she was doing. Celena was one of the few things that kept him grounded when nothing else around him made sense. To have recovered a part of his life that he once thought was lost forever, to know that Celena—after having her identity and memory ripped away from her—was still Celena, his heart was at peace. When her eyes, blue as ice, warmed at the sight of him, he was home.

Allen was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Hitomi until he almost walked right into her. She suddenly appeared in front of him as he was turning the corner.

"Allen!" she exclaimed, stopping abruptly in her tracks. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

"Hitomi," he said, taking a graceful step back and bowing. "This is an unexpected surprise." He noticed that she was coming from the north wing of the palace, an older section of the building that was little-used except by lesser dignitaries when the other meeting rooms and studies had filled up. "What brings you to this part of the palace?"

Hitomi's eyes darted to the side before she answered. She was twisting something around a finger on her left hand. "Allen, do you know where Van might be?"

Something gleamed metallically under her thumb, and he understood. "The last I heard, Dryden wanted to talk to him about something. They're probably meeting in one of the conference rooms. I can take you there."

They walked side by side, neither one saying much. Hitomi's head was bowed, but she was no longer fidgeting with her ring. Five years had changed her: she had lost the cheerful and carefree spirit that Allen had fallen in love with so long ago. Or maybe it was not the years, but the circumstances.

For some reason, he thought of Millerna. The princess had changed, too. And so had he. How could they not? It had been five years.

But Hitomi had the courage to do what he and Millerna could not. It was easier for him and the princess to hold on to what they had, even when what they had was slowly suffocating them both. "So long as your heart is at peace, you have done the right thing," he said.

Hitomi quickly glanced up at Allen, her green irises transparent and questioning. "Allen?"

"'Do what is right and serve what is true,'" he said. "That is the motto we Knights of Caeli live by. We are only human, so we don't always succeed. But we try."

Allen was really talking to himself now, but Hitomi seemed to take his words to heart. She nodded resolutely. "I will try, as well."

-

"You want me to go to Basram with you?" Van said with mild annoyance and disbelief.

Dryden Fassa stood across the table from Van and Wellyn in the meeting room they had borrowed. It was not as cold as the rest of the palace, probably better insulated because the cluster of rooms it belonged to was used by higher ranking officials and even the king himself. But Wellyn doubted that Asturia saw the kind of winters that Fanelia did. Even though he was indoors, the chill still clung to his fingers inside his gloves. His high-necked coat of thick Fanelian wool was the only reason why Wellyn wasn't shivering like the Asturian nobles in their jackets adorned with tassels and embroidery that passed for winter coats. Merle had found it for him last week in one of the few shops that remained open in Palas and had obtained a similar one for Van.

The merchant pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and sat on the edge of the heavy cherrywood table. "Yes. With your Draconian heritage, you would be a great help."

"I cannot leave my people," Van protested. "My duty is here, to them. I can't go chasing after something that's just a theory."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. They turned as the door swung open to admit two newcomers. One was a man with a mane of long blond hair, a soldier of high rank from the engraved hilt of the sword at his waist. The other was the girl from the Mystic Moon, who looked as though she wanted to hide inside the dark blue cloak that was bundled around her shoulders. When Van met Hitomi's eyes, he quickly looked away.

"Allen, Hitomi," Dryden welcomed them. "I was just discussing something with Van and Wellyn that might interest you."

"Please excuse the intrusion," Allen said. Now Wellyn remembered who he was—the knight from Asturia who had helped facilitate Fanelia's evacuation. "Van, Hitomi would like to have a word with you."

Van's chair scraped across the floor as he slowly stood up, still avoiding Hitomi's eyes. In his five years of service, Wellyn had never seen Van so deeply affected by another person. Hitomi was rather pretty, and Wellyn supposed she was a nice person—she had lent a hand to the medics in Fanelia, after all—but every nice and pretty girl did not make Van act this way. Like he had so many times before, Wellyn wondered what it was about the girl from the Mystic Moon that could unsettle his king like this.

"No, it's all right," Hitomi said with a shake of her head, braids the color of wheat swaying from side to side. "I think this is something everyone needs to hear."

Something they needed to hear? When a woman said she needed to talk, it usually wasn't about something that she wanted to announce to a room full of people.

She nervously laced her fingers together and took a deep breath. "You see…I'm the reason why all this is happening."

The room fell quiet. Van was looking at Hitomi now, probably without realizing it. Wellyn's chair creaked as he leaned forward. "All what?" he inquired.

"Everything. The destruction of Fanelia, the dragons, and now Palas."

Wellyn narrowed his eyes. Was that what she really believed? She could predict the future, that was true, and she was also from the Mystic Moon, the land of curses and mystery. But what made her think she could control the forces of nature? Were the rumors true after all?

"That's impossible," Allen said, voicing Wellyn's thoughts. "You are no more to blame than the rest of us."

"No!" Hitomi protested so forcefully that Allen gave a start of surprise. "My visions are not just visions. I don't really know why, but I have the power of Atlantis. My feelings become reality. I can't control them, so that's why my visions always predict disaster. The same thing happened during the war. That's why I left."

The power of Atlantis. The fabled power that was said to have driven the war and dissolved the alliance. Wellyn had watched the war from the sidelines, clinging to every piece of news that passed through the lips of the travelers he encountered. He had had to scrape his way to survival during that time, as did his fellow countrymen, finding shelter in abandoned farmhouses and living off the scant offerings of the forest. Without water or a horse, he had not been able to travel far. He hungered for food and information, and occasionally he would encounter a kind merchant who provided him with both. People spoke of Zaibach's latest intrigues and the destruction of Freid, but more than anything, Wellyn wanted to know if his king was still alive. As long as Fanelia's king survived, the prospect of reuniting the kingdom still existed. If Van survived, then Fanelia still had Escaflowne, and Escaflowne might triumph over Zaibach.

Against all odds, Van had made it out alive, and so had Wellyn. The incomprehensible workings of fate had crossed their paths, and Wellyn soon found himself at Van's right hand. By the time he was appointed the head of Technological Research and Development, Hitomi had already gone. Zaibach had lost the war because the emperor had been betrayed by his own Strategos and their most fearsome melef operator had been slain by the king of Fanelia himself. Basram had dealt the finishing blow with their frightening new weapon, which threw the armies into chaos and confusion until their generals came to their senses. Reports of a white dragon flying through the sky and an eerie emerald light emanating from Zaibach's capital were discounted as the delirious fancies of shell-shocked soldiers. So in the end, the girl from the Mystic Moon was little more than a rumor and the power of Atlantis nothing more than a myth.

But legend and myth fueled Wellyn's dreams, and they were what he lived for. And now the legend was living and breathing and standing in front of him.

Allen did not seem to know what to say, and Dryden was thoughtfully stroking his chin. Wellyn carefully watched Van, who was studying the wood grain on the table in front of him. "Van-sama, is this true?"

Van's expression was stony and unreadable. "It's true," he said. "That's why she left."

"And that's why she has to leave again," Wellyn concluded. He understood her anxiousness now and why Van had suddenly closed up. "That's what she came here to tell you." He fixed his gaze on Hitomi. "Isn't it?"

Hitomi shifted uncomfortably and did not answer. "I'll take you back," Van announced and walked past her to the door.

"Before you do that, King Van," Dryden said and held up one hand, "let me propose something. I think we may have found the key to the puzzle."

That made Van pause. Wellyn thought he knew where this was going, but he crossed his arms over his chest. "Elaborate."

"I think we'll all agree that none of these disasters are natural, although they may appear so at first glance. There are only a few possible explanations: an organization or nation with powerful magic on their side, a vengeful god, or the mystery of Atlantis. Personally, I favor the Atlantis theory."

"It's the one with the most evidence behind it," Wellyn agreed. He had heard from Dryden the stories about their journey to Atlantis. "Unless Dryden is a liar, Atlantis really exists and everyone in this room has been there except for me."

"But the power of Atlantis is the whole reason why I can't stay," Hitomi said, visibly distressed. "I have to leave, or Gaea will perish."

"I'm not so sure," Dryden mused. He rose from the edge of the table and paced across the room. "Somehow, I get the feeling that there's more to this than just your power, Hitomi. What's happening here is of apocalyptic proportions, which is what makes me think of Atlantis."

"Are you saying that Gaea is becoming like Atlantis?" Allen said, concern beginning to filter through his calm demeanor.

"Some of the events certainly mirror Atlantis's demise. The splitting of the earth, the terror overtaking Palas. But I need to find out more before I can really say. With her ability to see the past, Hitomi may be able to help us get to the bottom of this."

Van whirled around and approached Dryden. His hands had curled into fists. "It's Hitomi's decision," he said firmly. Van stared him down, daring the merchant to contradict him.

But Dryden only waved his hand in dismissal, unperturbed. "Of course, of course. I'm not forcing her to stay. But I think she could help us tremendously if she stayed a little longer."

"Do you really think so?" Hitomi asked in a small voice.

"You were the key to Gaea's salvation during the war. You could save us once again."

"I…" she began, and hesitated. "What if things only get worse?"

"So what if they do? The question we should really be asking is: what if things get worse after you leave? Then we'll never know what might have happened if you had stayed."

Hitomi bit her lip, torn by her resolve and Dryden's persuasion. The air was heavy as everyone waited for her answer.

"Hitomi," Van said suddenly. He stepped in front of her and faced her for the first time. "It's your decision."

Something passed between them. Van's back was to him, but Wellyn could tell it from the way Hitomi's fingers relaxed and her posture softened. It made him wonder. Wellyn had known Van long enough to know how obstinate his moods could be. What was it about Hitomi that could make Van shed his shell of indifference? What was she to him?

"I'll stay, then," Hitomi decided at last. "I'll stay until you find out what you need."

Dryden clapped his hands and rubbed them together, a merchant who had just closed a deal. "Excellent. We should depart for Basram without any further delay."

"Basram?" Hitomi said quizzically.

"Basram has one of the most extensive collections of ancient texts in the world, and it used to be second only to Freid," Wellyn said. "But many of Freid's libraries burned down during the war, so Basram currently has the best resources."

"I need to delve into the history and legends of Atlantis in order to understand how we are connected to that ancient world," Dryden explained. "I was hoping you would come with us. Your ability to read the ancient tongue could prove to be most useful."

"All right," Hitomi said, determined, but Wellyn thought she seemed a little pale.

"You should come with us, Van," Dryden said. He peered at Van over the rim of his spectacles as if to gauge the king's reaction. "We could use your help. You, too, Wellyn. Your expertise in this matter far surpasses mine."

"My people need me," Van answered. "I cannot leave them."

"Van-sama, as long as Fanelia's people are in Asturia, they are in good hands," Wellyn pointed out. "It will only be a few days, at most. Doradeen and the others can manage for a while without you."

Van did not reply. Wellyn recalled Garva's concerns during one of their meetings earlier in the day: Basram, the most technologically advanced nation next to Zaibach, had been secretive about their military maneuvers recently. "Basram has also been acting strangely," he reminded Van. "It may not be a bad idea to keep an eye on them for a few days and see for ourselves."

At last, Van acquiesced. When Allen included himself in the plans for departure, no one objected. In fact, they acted as if they expected him to come along. By now, Wellyn realized that there were complex undercurrents of an untold story that tied the lives of everyone in the room together. They were to leave the next morning for Basram aboard one of Dryden's leviships. The journey to discover the secrets of Atlantis was about to begin.