“Come, come,” Alister beckoned, pulling a small wooden lever. We stepped forward as the door swung inward. Stairs built from the wood of the hollow tree wrapped down the interior of the trunk in a never-ending spiral.
“That’s a long way down,” I noted.
“And you have wings should you slip and fall,” Fenn mused as he took my hand and pulled me along. Lexi was a few steps ahead of us, rapidly firing off question after question in Alister’s direction.
Alister’s feathers slowly stood on end as he halted abruptly, causing us all to crash into one another. “Save your questions, Mageling.” His voice was hard as he turned from her and continued down the stairs. When we reached the bottom he announced, “Now,” he paused and hooted, “portal jumping.”
There was a swirling portal in front of him, on the far side of the hollow tree. “This port will take us to the Mother Tree. Come, come,” he motioned, jumping through without a backwards glance.
Lexi didn’t hesitate.
I shook my head. “I hope this doesn’t turn out to be something we regret.” Fenn stared at me, his expression full of amusement. “I’m just saying. I was not aware that following bird-men through portals was written in the cards.” I hopped off the last step and stood right before the portal.
He chuckled as he came up next to me, his eyes twinkling. “I never knew you were a tarot reader.”
I nudged him lightly. “You know what I mean. Come on, Smart Aleck.”
On the other side, a quick look around explained why Alister called it the Mother Tree. It felt like the Tree of Life. Bigger than any tree I had ever seen. Ever.
Rows of bookshelves beyond what the eye could comprehend ran up the inside of the trunk, holding more books than anyone could read in a lifetime. Owls of every kind, from normal-size to Alister-size, flew up and down in a craze. Some flew from perch to perch, tome in hand, while others skimmed the books with their feathers.
We had walked into the midst of a silent dance.
“Smell that?” Alister asked, poking me in the side with his feathered hand to gain my attention. “That’s the smell of history, hatchling.” Owls with their backs hunched over, deep in thought, scribed vigorously across parchment.
I took in a deep whiff, my senses picking up everything from the mossy earth to the ink being used to record. “You’re right,” I agreed, my nose happily sniffing.
“I smell it too,” Fenn chuckled, obviously affected by my senses.
“Sit, Progeny, sit.” Alister directed us to a large, slanted table with small wooden stools for seating. “The Keeper of the Chronicles is at your service.” He wrapped his clawed foot around a stool and pulled it out, pushing me towards it in a hurry.
Like a gentleman, Fenn pulled one over for Lexi and himself. They sat behind me, waiting for Alister’s next move.
Alister’s head once again turned to face behind him, towards the owls above us. A loud hoot rumbled from the pit of his belly causing all of the owls to stop in mid-air. Then like a storm of raining torpedoes, they all propelled in our direction. “What the—” I said as they landed with agile grace around him.
“That was nuts,” Lexi stated.
“No, that was great,” Fenn said as his eyes wandered from owl to owl.
Alister’s head turned back around to face me. “Come, come,” he summoned, shaking his silver-feathered head in disdain. All the owls were huddled shoulder to shoulder, staring at me with their saucer-like eyes.
“Keeper,” they all chimed in unison, bowing their heads as Alister paced in front of the tightly formed line. I tried to keep up, glancing down at each regally bowed owl. I looked back for reassurance. Fenn was following right behind me, but Lexi was still sitting on her stool.
I frowned at her when she smirked.
Alister hooted again, this time loud enough to cause vibrations to shake the entire center of the tree. Fenn took my hand.
“The young Progeny is here, and we are going to assist her. She is lost in the ways of this realm.” He cough-hooted, then continued. “I want every one of you to assist her, should she ask for help. Now…back to work. Off, off,” he instructed, brushing the owls away.
Each bowed individually in front of me before lifting off. Everything was so different here, so strange. “I really appreciate all of your help, Alister.”
He hooted a few times, ignoring my thanks as a brown barn owl flew towards us, carrying a large rolled-up parchment in his hands. The light inside of the tree reflected the tiny particles of dust dancing around the bird as he came to a halt. He ruffled his feathers, ending with a quaint little sneeze.
Alister sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Bless yourself,” he instructed the brown owl.
“Yes, yes,” he agreed. He spun in a quick circle and then dropped the scroll to point both of his wings to the sky. I tried not to giggle at their way of blessing themselves.
Alister touched his wing to his forehead in exasperation. “Quickly now, Squire.” His patience was wearing.
“Yes, yes. Maps. You need maps. Must understand,” hooted the little owl, nimbly hopping over to the table where Lexi stood. The map landed with a light thud, dust billowing up and around us, causing us to sneeze.
“Squires don’t know anything,” Alister interjected, motioning the small owl away. The little owl bowed once more and then disappeared into the rows of books.
“Sit,” Alister commanded, unrolling the aged map.
It was blank.
“Behold, the Map of All. Good for you to learn the lands.”
“There’s nothing on it,” I stated.
“Map of All? I’ve heard of that before,” Lexi wondered out loud.
“Yes and yes. This map will show you anything you wish to see, as long as you remain focused on it. Right now, you must learn your lands.” Alister pointed to the left corner of the map. “Here. Focus here with your energy and will the map of your lands to appear.”
I leaned forward and touched where he told me to, ignoring the dimly lit energy inside of me. I focused on this realm, and magically everything began to appear.
The lands floated up and off the page, pulsing right before our eyes. Fenn and Lexi both leaned over my shoulders, staring in amazement at the detail that depicted the lands where we were born.
Geographic lines curved and twisted where the rivers met the seas, the water rushing along quietly. I ran my finger through the holographic ink, following the jagged outline of the lands, and hiking my two fingers over the rugged mountaintops.
A silver feathered finger-claw came down, pointing to the word Zu’therin. “We are here, hatchling.”
“Here” was polar opposite from the painted Lyceum that rested on Pyre Island. At first glance, the island seemed to float in the sky, water rushing off the edge and into the sea on the map. A quick glance showed that all for Rebell Islands were floating.
“Is this right, Alister? I mean, am I seeing this right? The Rebell Islands float in the sky?”
“Correct, correct,” he answered with a glint in his eyes. “All the Magiums inhabit the Rebell Islands, which all float above us.” He pointed sharply to the four floating islands. “The Orient Magium,” he denoted, pointing to the east, “the Polar Magium,” pointing to the north, “the Nymph Magium,” pointing to the west, “and the Pyre Magium,” he finished, pointing to my homeland. “Pyre Island, as you can see, is by far the largest island of the four.
“And here?” I asked hesitantly, pointing to a black void at the center of the map that spread out vein-like through the lands below the hovering islands. It looked like a murky swamp, lifeless and full of danger.
“That is where most of the Dark Saar dwells,” he scowled. “The Swamp of Outlaws.” His tone dropped off, menace replacing his previously happy demeanor. “All those
that are filled with darkness have been cast off there. Necromancers, Shadows, Harpies, Warlocks, Rogues, the Dark Saar. The Undermarket is held there. According to Astral, it is where you must go, but for what he didn’t say. I think—”
He kept talking, but his words became incoherent. I suddenly felt sick, my thoughts buzzing like nagging flies. Me…go there? Maybe for my death. Maybe to meet Zordon.
I imagined the inky veins spreading across the map, running down the table and onto my body, swallowing me whole. Screams of torture and horror filled the air.
“Rory?” Fenn eased, rubbing my shoulders. He sensed my distress.
My head swayed as I tried to remain conscious. That feeling was there again. That pull. “Fenn…I need to lay down.”
Without hesitation, he lifted me off the stool and tucked me against his chest, rushing me back to the portal. “How do we get out of here? She needs to rest,” he stressed.
“What’s wrong?” Lexi asked, concerned.
I shook my head. I couldn’t speak. The pull was too strong to fight against. I should have listened to Fenn. I should have waited to come here.
“It’s happening,” Fenn said, overwrought with fear.
The fear that had settled in the pit of my stomach had triggered something in me. The dizziness came on quick as I felt the pull of my Oraculus.
“The tie,” Alister commented, “it mustn’t be broken.”
“What are you saying?” Fenn growled, his grip tightening around me.
“It means you shouldn’t meddle. What will be, should be, simply put.” He turned from Fenn and headed back over to the map. My vision blurred again as a sharp shooting pain lanced through my brain.
“Damn it!” Fenn shouted, turning back to the portal. “I’m just going to jump.”
“Wait,” Lexi desperately called out. She paused. “What if he’s right?” she said, indecision weighing on her face.
“Fenn,” I mumbled, barely able to resist the pull.
“I don’t care if he’s right. He’s not the one in danger,” Fenn said vehemently. “She is. She is the one who pays.”
I tried to reach up and caress his face, but I had no strength left. My energy was gone. “Stay here,” I managed to get out before everything went dark again.
Chapter 11
You’re Immortal?
I WAS STANDING A FEW feet off to the side of Zordon, nestled among two large cypress trees and a few rotten logs, deep inside a muggy swamp. It smelled like road kill.
I instantly dropped low, praying that I wasn’t seen. I held my breath and then silently sighed when Zordon addressed the crowd of Dark Saar that stood before him. His black energy sizzled in wisps as he turned and spoke to what must have been the leader of the Dark Saar.
“Zane has survived death,” Zordon declared savagely, a bitter smile curving his lips.
My hand shot up to my mouth, stifling my gasp.
“You see? Here is your proof that I am a son of The Fates,” he boasted, as he turned sharply to face the army of Dark Saar, unveiling a curled up Zane.
The moment his words registered, everything came crashing down around me. He wasn’t just created, he was a Fate’s son? He’s immortal? How is that possible? The fifth Fate died for creating the Draconta. I felt bile rise up, threatening to spill.
I glanced back over at Zane who laid moaning in mud, his chocolate brown hair and eyes blending in with what was caked on his skin.
“Dark magic could easssssily have brought him back from the black veil,” hissed the leader, his ghostly dark image swirling and curling as if he was made from the very essence of smoke. He loomed over Zordon as he stared daringly into his eyes. “I’ve heard of your dealingsss with the Necromancersss. You have Irisssssi.”
“Indeed. But I don’t have Na’shir and he bound them from using their magic. Which is why I brought this along with me as extra security,” Zordon retorted, stepping aside to show a chained creature held down by the magic of Zordon’s men.
“A Harpy,” hissed the leader, turning to face his army. “He bringssssss us a Harpy,” he repeated, licking his lips in response to the cheers from the army.
The uproar shook the very ground we stood on. I embraced the tree in hopes that the earth wouldn’t open up and swallow me whole.
The Harpy was screaming bloody murder as Zordon’s men ruthlessly dragged her through the muddy waters. The brown sludge cemented to her bird-like bottom half, the feathers sticking to one another as she desperately tried to claw at the men. Her shiny black hair flowed past her hips like an oil spill in the mud.
“Well, Zzzzzordon, let’s take this delicious treat to the altar,” he dictated, signaling his army to follow as he led the way.
Maybe this was what Alister meant. Maybe Astral wanted me here for this — to find out that Zordon is a son of a Fate. I felt queasy and lost. Astral had said my dreams weren’t real. The dreams I had of The Fates. He lied to me. I don’t know what hurt worse, knowing that Astral never trusted me, or knowing that Zordon just became undefeatable.
Zane was still in a curled-up heap on the ground, life barely visible through the short, jagged breaths that escaped his lips.
I counted the agonizing seconds until everyone had stepped over and around him. He needed my help. The Dark Saar chanted and shouted laughter and songs that teased the Harpy’s last moments of life. After a few more torturous minutes, their voices died off.
“You can come out now,” said Zane meekly after the crowd was beyond earshot.
I froze. He saw me. Who else saw me?
“Relax, Aurora, no one saw you. Believe me, if they had…” he paused, his eyes dropping to the mud, “let’s not go there.” He weakly extended his arm and said, “Here, come help me up.”
I rushed over to his side, feet sticking and sinking into the mud. It was stiffening between my toes, discoloring the red of my scales.
“Nice dragon form,” he stated with a wry smile, giving me a once over and perking his eyebrow.
I pulled him up out of the mud but threatened to let go if he kept it up.
He ignored my threat and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, his face inches from mine. “Well, well, Aurora Megalos, I believe if your face wasn’t already red, I’d see a hint of a blush.”
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “You’re seriously coming on to me right now?” I scoffed. “I think being on the brink of death has disoriented your priorities.”
He tried to laugh, but the trip back from death took its toll, fatigue instigating a coughing fit. I lightly patted his back, my stomach turning from the droplets of blood that spewed from his cough. “How did you come back? I thought you were the blood sacrifice.” I whispered, debating if I even wanted to know.
“Blood sacrifice?”
“After you died, Astral revealed a small part of the missing piece of the prophecy. It stated that a blood sacrifice of a firstborn would have to be made in order for Zordon to obtain the Stone.”
He sucked in a breath. “Wow. That’s a lot to hear when you wake up from death.” He paused, digesting all that I had said. “I have no answer to that.”
I didn’t either and it didn’t rest well with me. Zordon wouldn’t need the Stone for immortality, he was born with it. It must be to port him to the Hall, but why? If he is a Fate’s son, wouldn’t he have access?
It was too big a question to leave open to fate. “Never mind that,” I said, shaking the thought. Now was not the time to worry about it. “I saw you that day. You were dead. How?”
“Zordon said it best. ‘I am a son of The Fates,’” he mimicked, wincing as he grabbed the side where Zordon had plunged his staff into his rib cage. “I guess I inherited some of their magic. Don’t ask me why or how because I only know what you know. I’m just glad to be his son…for once.
”
“I’m glad too,” I admitted as I stopped our walk in the mud to hug him. He tensed for a moment, surprised by my actions, but then quickly melted into the hug. “I thought you were gone. I felt so guilty for agreeing to send you back to him.”
He squeezed me tightly and then continued walking in the same direction as the others. “You shouldn’t have been there, you know. You could’ve been killed.”
“I can’t exactly help it,” I said defensively.
He stopped his wobbling. “You can’t or you won’t?” The words sounded like more of an accusation than a question. “I overheard Astral talking about your connection with the Oraculus. My hearing has always been keen…maybe because of who my father is. If he ever found out—”
I scowled at him and then exhaled sharply. “He won’t find out unless someone snitches.” Though I didn’t intend it, my tone was harsh.
“Lucky you for you then, everyone in your circle seems to be trustworthy.”
“What’s going on here?” I asked artlessly, looking straight ahead to change the subject.
He watched me for a moment, his eyes appraising my expression. “My father is trying to bargain with the Dark Saar…which is nearly impossible. It’s astounding that we’re all even still here. I didn’t think they were going to take the bait.”
I couldn’t help asking. “And the Harpy?”
“The Harpy is a sacrifice. They will use the blood to determine whether or not Zordon is a son of The Fates. With Harpy blood in your system, you can’t lie.”
“That’s horrible,” I gasped, shaking my head in disbelief.
“Yes and no,” he said after a moment. “Harpies are a feral, vicious race. They steal everything they can…however they can. Even if the goods come by murder. They were cast off to these lands.” His voice dropped a bit lower as he leaned into me. “Shadows, Harpies, Giants, the Dark Saar, all the forbidden races reside here,” he whispered. “This is the absolute worst place to be.”
Embracing the Flames Page 14