Zane

by Greg Farshtey

A soft chuckle filled the cave. “Don’t you know?”

  Then the laughter was drowned out by the sound of rock scraping against rock. A crack of light appeared on the cavern floor in front of Zane, growing wider and wider as he watched. When the noise finally stopped, a portion of the stone floor had slid away to reveal a winding staircase.

  “I am the stuff of your nightmares,” said the voice. “I am the bogeyman in all of Sensei Wu’s bedtime stories. I am the exile, the outcast, the villain that every tale must have … I am Garmadon.”

  As Zane climbed down the stairs, he did his best to convince himself it was a wise thing to do. If he could confront Garmadon, he reasoned, perhaps he could learn something of the evil one’s plans. Then all he would have to do is escape and inform Sensei Wu of what he had learned.

  Of course, a little voice in his head said. People escape from the Underworld every day. Piece of cake.

  There was a sudden hiss of air off to his left. Instinctively, Zane ducked. A half dozen stone daggers flew by overhead, smashing into the opposite wall. The ninja barely had time to recover when the stairs beneath him flattened into a slide. He tumbled end over end for about one hundred yards before landing hard on a smooth platform of rock.

  Zane struggled to his feet. There was darkness all around. He peered over the edges of the platform, but saw nothing. Had he skidded a little more upon landing, he would have gone over the edge and fallen to his death.

  “What happened to ‘no harm will come to you’?” Zane snapped. “That looks like a lot of potential harm to me.”

  “I had to be sure you are truly Zane, Ninja of Ice,” Garmadon answered. “After all, someone might have created a … fake.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Who knows?” said Garmadon. “Why do people hide Golden Weapons that might otherwise benefit humanity? I long ago gave up trying to determine the motivations of others.”

  The platform began to descend. Zane noticed the temperature falling, not nearly enough to be uncomfortable yet, but it was definitely getting colder.

  “How far down am I going?” he asked.

  “If it’s up to me,” answered Garmadon, “all the way.”

  The platform finally came to a stop after what felt like a very long time. The temperature was easily below zero here, and Zane doubted this was the lowest level of the Underworld. So I still have something to look forward to, he thought.

  It was dark, darker than any place Zane had been. Shadows skittered along the walls, moving like rodents but much too large to be any rat Zane had ever seen. Other than his own breathing, there was no sound. That was perhaps the biggest surprise. Zane had expected to hear the sound of marching skeleton warriors.

  “I gave them the day off,” Garmadon answered, as if he had read the ninja’s mind. “I wanted us to have time to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About you.”

  “Thanks,” said Zane curtly. “But I’m shy. I prefer not to talk about myself.”

  “Then I will carry the conversation,” said Garmadon. “We can talk about your skill as a ninja … your mission … your new friends … or perhaps you would rather talk about … your parents?”

  Zane’s eyes narrowed. “My parents? What trick are you trying to pull?”

  “No trick,” Garmadon replied. “Come now, Zane, I have been trapped down here for … oh, a long time now. It is not, as you can see, a place bursting at the seams with entertainment opportunities. What else is there to do but observe the surface world? I have followed the course of many, many lives up there over the centuries, yours included.”

  Zane was intrigued. He hated feeling that way — he knew this had to be some ploy of Garmadon’s — but he couldn’t help wanting to hear more. “So you’re saying —” he began.

  “That I know all about your past,” Garmadon said. “Who you are, where you come from, why you left … I have all the answers, and they are yours for the asking.”

  “I … see,” said Zane. “You’re being very generous.”

  Garmadon laughed. It was a foul sound. “I don’t believe I know that word. Of course, I want something in return. I am going to escape this place, Zane, no matter how my hated brother may try to prevent it. When I do, I will need warriors by my side — competent warriors, not Samukai’s bumblers. I want you, Zane, to lead my ninja.”

  “Your ninja?” asked Zane. “What ninja?”

  The terrible answer came in an instant. Shadows detached themselves from the walls, shadows in the shape of ninja warriors. As they advanced on Zane, he could see that each carried a sword of pure darkness. Soon he was surrounded by at least a dozen spectral fighters.

  Zane braced himself for a fight, at the same time reaching down into himself to find a center of inner calm. There was no room for fear in the upcoming struggle. He had to analyze his opponents rationally and find their weaknesses.

  The first few shadow ninja moved in. Zane immediately saw that their fighting styles were clumsy imitations of Kai and Jay. Their blows had power behind them, but no artistry. Zane parried them easily. More joined the fight, this time imitating the moves of Cole, the ninja team leader. Again, Zane easily fended them off, though the sheer number of opponents was beginning to tax him.

  The last group charged now. These were shadowy versions of Sensei Wu himself, and they were far better fighters. For the first time, Zane had to put real effort into protecting himself, which left him wide open to blows from the other shadows. Too much more of this, and he would go down in defeat.

  The time had come. Drawing on all his willpower, Zane began to spin in place. Soon, he was a whirlwind, unleashing the power of Spinjitzu against his foes. The shadows did not fall before his attack. Rather, Zane’s cyclone shattered them into fragments of darkness that flew around the chamber.

  When the last of the enemies had vanished, Zane slowed down and came to a halt. He had won. But was the battle over, or would Garmadon now unleash more ninja on him? There were plenty of shadows here to draw them from. Zane had a realistic sense of his own abilities. He knew he could not survive too many more fights like that.

  “As you can see,” said Garmadon, “my ninja need a little work.”

  “It seems they’ll do, for now,” said Zane, trying to catch his breath. “But it’s lucky for you Kai isn’t here.”

  “So you can see why I need a youth of your skill to train and lead my warriors,” said Garmadon. “And in exchange, you get the answers to every question that has plagued you — a more than fair trade, in my opinion.”

  “Speaking of opinions,” Zane laughed, “yours must not be very high of me, if you think I would ever accept such an offer. I know all about you, Garmadon — your ambition, your hunger for power, your plans to dominate Ninjago. I would never help you. Never.”

  Garmadon’s voice grew very low, its tone betraying the anger he felt at Zane’s words. “You know only what my brother wishes for you to know. As someone or other once said, ‘my enemy has written all the books.’ ”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning there are two sides to every story,” Garmadon replied. “Do you have the courage to hear mine?”

  Zane didn’t know what to say. He didn’t trust Garmadon at all. Sensei Wu had told him and the others more than once what a liar his brother could be. Yet part of the quest for justice was learning all the facts about a situation, rather than allowing your own prejudices to determine your actions. Could he truly be sure there was no more to the story of Wu and Garmadon than what he had been told?

  “Go ahead,” Zane said finally. “Tell your tale.”

  The air in front of Zane began to whirl. Colors bled into one another in a giant kaleidoscope, and then a picture began to form in midair. Zane saw a much younger Sensei Wu and someone he assumed was Garmadon. There was a tall, shadowy figure standing before the brothers. Zane got an unmistakable sense that this was a man of power.

  “My father,” said Garmadon softly. “He created thi
s world, did you know that? I never understood why. With two sons to look after, he chose to take on the responsibility of millions more. I suppose whatever need he had for … respect? worship? … wasn’t fully satisfied by Wu and me.”

  Now the figure was lifting a cloth from a table to reveal the Four Weapons of Spinjitzu. The Scythe of Quakes, Nunchuks of Lightning, Dragon Sword of Fire, and Shurikens of Ice were incredibly powerful artifacts. It was said that their energies were so great that no one could control all four at once. It was to protect these Weapons from Garmadon that Sensei Wu had assembled Zane and his fellow ninja. Up to now, they had been in a race against the skeleton warriors with whom Garmadon was allied to retrieve the Weapons and keep them safe.

  “My father’s gift to the two of us,” said Garmadon. “Amazing workmanship, wouldn’t you agree? He told us that when he died, the responsibility for their safekeeping would be up to us. Nothing like having something to look forward to, hmmm?”

  The scene shifted again. Garmadon’s father was gone now, but the Weapons remained. Sensei Wu and Garmadon were preparing them for transport.

  “Sending the Weapons off to a place of concealment was actually Wu’s idea,” said Garmadon. “He always did like playing hide-and-seek, even as a child. Of course, I always won. I found it quite simple, really.”

  “You excel at finding things?” asked Zane.

  “Oh, no,” Garmadon laughed. “I excel at manipulating my brother. You see, he would hide. I would seek. After a short time, I would grow bored with trying to find him. So I would begin to sound panicked, as if I were afraid something might have happened to him. It was no longer about the game … it was now about Wu’s safety, you see. My tenderhearted brother would feel guilty that I was so worried and would reveal himself … and so I won again.”

  “I think he knows you a little better now,” said Zane.

  “He certainly thinks he does,” Garmadon countered. “But millennia trapped in the Underworld can change a person. Wu really has no idea what I am capable of … do you?”

  “I am sure I will find out,” Zane replied, “if you do not bore me to death first.”

  The colors swirled once more and now Zane was seeing Garmadon attempting to steal the Golden Weapons. Wu suddenly appeared, pointing an accusing finger at his brother. The image froze on that moment.

  “And there we have it,” said Garmadon. “That was the turning point. That is the single moment that defines me in my brother’s eyes. Anything and everything else we had shared in the past was forgotten right then.”

  “You were trying to steal the Weapons!” Zane said, his voice echoing off unseen walls. “Of course Sensei Wu turned on you. What did you think he would do?”

  “Honestly?” Garmadon answered. “I thought he was asleep. I thought I would be long gone with the Four Weapons before he ever realized they were missing. And then we would play hide-and-seek again … by my rules.”

  “But it didn’t work out that way,” said Zane. As he talked, his eyes darted about, looking for something that might be a control panel for the platform. It was all very interesting hearing about Garmadon’s youth, but there was still the little matter of escaping from this place to think about. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see anything but shadows and stone.

  “No. It did not, much to the misfortune of Ninjago,” said Garmadon. “Think about it, Zane. Those Weapons could have been — and still might be — used to vanquish terrible evils that plague your planet. Instead, Wu chose to hide them away. When I wanted to put them to use, I was condemned as evil and banished here.”

  “You wanted to use them for conquest and destruction,” spat Zane.

  “According to Wu,” Garmadon shot back. “Suppose, just suppose, he has a reason to not be completely honest with you and your friends. Suppose, for all his sterling reputation, my brother is afraid to use those Weapons? That is the truth. He is afraid to do what is necessary to protect this world from evil.”

  Zane was not known for his sense of humor, but even he almost laughed at that. Sensei Wu had devoted his entire life to battling the forces of darkness. Now Garmadon — a shadow allied with an army of skeletons — was trying to act as if he were the true crusader for justice.

  “Whose life have the Weapons improved? No one’s,” Garmadon continued. “What villain have they defeated? What problem have they solved? None. They have been hidden away, gathering dust, of use to no one. Is that why they were created? I say no.”

  Zane had had enough. “And who is the judge of how they should be used? You? Samukai? One of the skeleton warriors who attacked my village?”

  This time, the answer did not come from Garmadon. Instead, the scene shifted to show a kindly-looking man with a little boy sitting on his lap. The man was saying, “When you grow up, you will be very wise and very strong. I am sure of it. You must always remember that your wisdom and strength — indeed, any power you may someday have — should be used for good. To do any less would be to prove yourself unworthy of that power, Zane.”

  Suddenly Zane, the Ninja of Ice, who could meditate in a freezing lake without discomfort — felt terribly cold. “Who — who is that?”

  “I promised you information — consider this a sign of my good faith,” Garmadon answered. “That, Zane, is your father.”

  Zane stood and stared for a very long time. It had to be true. The boy did look like him, and he could see an aged version of his own features on the face of his … father?

  Father.

  The word sounded strange, even rolling around in his brain. He knew it would sound even stranger if he tried to say it out loud. He reached out to touch the image, but his hand passed right through it as if it were a ghost.

  “My …” Zane couldn’t bring himself to say the word. “This man … where is he? Who is he?”

  “Ah-ah,” said Garmadon. “As I made him appear …” The image abruptly vanished. “So can I make him disappear. Consider this a glimpse of the treasure trove of information that waits for you here. All you have to do is say yes.”

  Zane stared at the empty space where his father’s image had been. “Yes … to what?”

  “Well, I am not asking you stab your friends in the back,” Garmadon answered, “though that certainly would be amusing. Just slow them down a bit, here and there. You can manage that. And when the time comes, choose the winning side in the fight.”

  “You’re asking me to be a traitor!”

  “That’s such an ugly word,” said Garmadon. “I am asking you to be … practical. If the choice is certain victory plus a head full of knowledge about your past or sure death in battle with my skeletons, the realistic man would find the decision an easy one.”

  Zane shook his head. He was actually considering Garmadon’s offer, and he hated himself for it. Would this be what his father wanted? How could he someday look the man in the face if he had bought the chance to meet him with the lives of his friends?

  Yet if he said no, then what? He would never find his father, or mother, or home. He would spend the rest of his life an empty shell, without a past. Maybe he could help Garmadon only a little, not enough to really cause a problem, and learn at least some of what he needed to know.

  “Three … two … one,” Garmadon counted down. “Time’s up.”

  There was a flash of light. Zane blinked to clear his vision. When he could see, he found himself out of the Underworld. He was back at the edge of the pond. Had it all been a dream? No, it couldn’t have been, he decided. He never had dreams like that.

  Any doubts were resolved when he saw a shadow shift beneath a tree, and heard the voice of Garmadon saying, “If we have a bargain, Zane, you will know what to do and when to do it. If you should need more convincing …”

  The waters of the pond stirred. In their depths, Zane could see his father with an elderly woman. They were sitting in a farmhouse with a picture of Zane on the table before them. The woman — his mother? — was crying softly. Then the image was gone as swiftly a
s it had appeared.

  Zane made his way back to camp. The first person he encountered was Kai.

  “Hey, are you all right?” the Ninja of Fire asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Or two,” Zane replied softly.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Where is Sensei Wu?”

  Kai pointed toward the center of camp. Sensei Wu was sitting by the campfire, staring pensively into the flames. Zane walked over and sat down next to him. At first, the sensei did not seem to even notice his presence. But after a few moments, Wu said, “The birds of worry nest in your hair, Zane. Do you wish to tell me why?”

  Zane hesitated. Did he really want to say, Well, I was considering betraying you for my own selfish reasons? No, it was best not to.

  “No, Sensei,” he answered.

  Wu nodded. “Do you believe your doubts and fears threaten our mission?”

  “I don’t know,” answered Zane.

  The sensei sipped from a cup of tea that seemed to appear as if by magic in his hand. Zane would have sworn it had not been there moments before. “There was once a golden dragon fish,” the aged warrior began. “It lived among a very great school of its brothers. One day, the fish broke away from the school seeking adventure, and met a shark. The shark invited the little fish to travel with him and feed off the mites that collected on his scales. Soon, the dragon fish fell into the way of life of traveling with the shark. Its success was linked to that of the great predator.

  “Months later, the shark spotted a school of fish and went on the hunt. To his dismay, the dragon fish saw that the prey fish the shark was after were his brothers. He had time to warn them — but doing so would mean the end of his pleasant life with the shark … decisions, decisions.”

  Does he know? wondered Zane. Or only suspect? I must be careful.

  “Well, questions of loyalty are always difficult ones,” said the Ninja of Ice. “It is not always easy to know which side to be on, or what to believe.”