by T.A. Barron
“Which is why,” Atlanta said firmly, “we should go after this beast. Quiggley will find me wherever we are.”
“We?” asked Shangri hopefully.
“Yes, we.” Atlanta gazed at her. “It’s time you and I had another adventure, don’t you agree?”
Shangri’s smile seemed to light up all of Moss Island.
Lorno, noticing a bulge in Promi’s wet tunic, added, “Is that a book you carry?”
“A journal,” he replied. “I, er . . . lost my old one.” He exchanged knowing glances with Atlanta. “It was an old book of dessert recipes, and I liked to scribble in its margins. So Shangri kindly gave me this new one.”
He tapped the bulge. “But I don’t seem to have enough time anymore to write in it.”
Lorno gave an understanding groan. “Writing does take time. And work. And more time. Believe me, I know.”
Suddenly he caught his breath. “I almost forgot! Just when the mistwraiths were about to burn us to ashes, right before the river god arrived, I thought of a new name!”
Shangri groaned. “Not again! We both know that whatever name ye pick today ye’ll change tomorrow.”
“Not this one,” he protested. “Trust me, I have a good feeling about this one.”
She tousled his hair affectionately. “Jest what is this new name, then?”
He crinkled his nose, enjoying the thought of the name before saying it aloud. Finally, he announced, “My new name is . . . Plato.”
Shangri looked uncertain. “Are ye really sure?”
“I am.”
“Well,” said Promi, “if you want my opinion, stay with Lorno! I mean . . . who would want to read anything written by someone named Plato?”
“I might,” chimed in Shangri. She gave the young bard a supportive glance. Then she added, “But I think, fer now, I’ll still call ye Lorno.”
“Whatever you like,” he replied, crestfallen. “But I just can’t stop feeling that this is the name that will help me find my one great story.”
Shangri took both his hands. “Well, all right. Then that’s the name I will call ye.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Plato.”
Seeing his face brighten, she gave his cheek a kiss. Then, releasing his hands, she walked over to Promi. She scrutinized her old friend for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her tone was gravely serious.
“Since yer about to leave us again, don’t forget what ye said in yer answer to my prayer.”
Promi furrowed his brow. “What did I say?”
“That ye’ll never abandon Atlantis. Never.”
“You can count on that,” he promised. “And do you remember what else I said? About hope?”
Shangri nodded, never breaking eye contact. “Hope has power—more than ye might think.”
“Don’t forget that.” He cocked his head at the young bard. “And don’t let him—whatever his name is—forget it, either.”
“I won’t, Promi.” She flung her arms around his broad shoulders. Her voice a whisper, she said, “I’ll miss ye while yer gone.”
“And I’ll miss you too.”
Promi turned back to Atlanta, and they simply gazed at each other. Both knew, without saying, what they needed to do now. Yet both felt great resistance to doing it.
Reaching for her hand, Promi led her a few steps away on the soft moss. Somberly, he said, “I don’t want to leave you.”
Swallowing, she replied, “And I don’t want to leave you.”
“Remember that time,” he said gently, “when we were in that horrible marsh near the Passage of Death?”
She blinked the mist from her eyes. “When we decided that maybe we could be each other’s family?”
“Yes.” He drew her closer. “Well . . . that’s part of what I’m feeling now. But it’s, um . . . well, just a small part.”
“What,” she asked, “is the rest?”
He hesitated, trying to find the right words. It didn’t help that Atlanta was looking at him so expectantly, with those beautiful, wide-open eyes of hers. Yet he knew that if there ever was a time to finish that sentence he’d been wanting so badly to say—it was now.
“Atlanta,” he began, though for some reason his throat felt impossibly dry. He worked his tongue, but it didn’t seem to help. Finally, in a creaky voice, he managed to start again.
“Atlanta, I . . .” His voice trailed off.
She continued to look at him.
“I really . . .”
“Tell me,” she encouraged.
He filled his lungs with air. “I really—”
“Well, hello again,” called a melodious voice.
Promi and Atlanta both turned to see Graybeard hop across the stream and step onto the island. He scanned the companions, then said bashfully, “I shouldn’t have run away like that. It was inexcusable. It was—”
“Cowardly,” declared Shangri, glaring at him.
He hung his head. “It was. You’re right. I apologize.” Then, more brightly, he asked, “Did I miss much?”
“Nothing at all,” said Atlanta sarcastically. “Now if you’ll just leave us alone . . .” She glanced at Promi, who was pinching his lips together in frustration. “We have things we need to—”
“Accomplish?” interrupted Graybeard, nodding vigorously. “Yes, I know.”
Striding over to Atlanta, he pleaded, “Please give me another chance, I beg of you.” Placing his hand over his chest, which made his collection of knives bulge slightly under his coat, he vowed, “I will earn back your trust, if you will just let me.”
Promi sighed with disappointment. But it wasn’t about the man’s request. The moment—their moment—had been lost. All because of my own stupidity, he raged at himself. Why do I have to be such a dung-headed dolt?
“Please,” the older man begged Atlanta. “Give me another chance.”
Her gaze darted from him to Promi, who seemed so upset it was painful to see, then back again. “All right, all right,” she said impatiently, shooing him off as she would a mosquito. She faced Shangri and Plato. “That is, if you both agree.”
“I s’pose so,” Shangri replied. Directing her next words at Graybeard, she scolded, “But if you don’t prove yer worth, we’ll send ye packin’.”
“Agreed,” said the young bard.
“So,” asked Graybeard enthusiastically, “where are we going?”
“After that monster you saw,” said Atlanta.
Graybeard’s enthusiasm faded. “Whatever you say,” he mumbled.
“Then we’d better get goin’,” Shangri urged. “If that monster is headin’ fer the City, it could do terrible damage.”
“And if it heads into the forest,” observed Atlanta, “the same is true.”
“Let’s go, then,” Shangri said impatiently.
“Right,” answered Atlanta. She gave Promi one last look. “Good-bye,” she said, her voice catching.
“Good-bye,” he echoed. As much as he wanted to say more, he could only gaze at her. After another few heartbeats, he leaped into the sky and vanished from sight.
“Well, I’ll be drawn and quartered,” said Graybeard in amazement. “I had no idea he could do such a thing! He must be . . .”
“Immortal,” said Atlanta, peering up at the sky. “He belongs,” she added regretfully, “to another world.”
“He’ll come back,” consoled Shangri. “I’m sure o’ that.”
Atlanta bit her lip, then lowered her gaze. “I hope so.” Drawing a sharp breath, she said, “Anyway, we must go.”
“Right,” agreed Shangri. “Lead us wherever ye think is best.”
“We’ll take the short cut to the north side of the forest.”
Without another second’s delay, Atlanta leaped over the stream and loped into the t
rees. Shangri and Plato followed, with Graybeard running behind.
If the younger companions had given Graybeard any thought at that moment, they would have guessed that he’d be struggling to keep up with them. On that count, they would have been right. And they would also have assumed that he’d be doubting the wisdom of his plea to join them, maybe even already considering another cowardly exit. But on that count . . . they would have been utterly wrong.
How convenient, he thought as he padded along on the animal track Atlanta had chosen. Holding his coat tightly closed so that none of his knives would fall out, he told himself, Without that immortal friend of hers around, Atlanta is unprotected. Just as I’ve been wanting.
Even as he ran, ducking under branches now and then, he grinned malevolently. For now I’ll let her stay alive so she can lead us out of this miserable forest. And then . . . when I choose just the right moment, I’ll finish the job Reocoles hired me to do. And collect that reward he promised!
He chortled. But there’s no hurry. Choosing the perfect moment takes time. And I always enjoy this part of the process.
Thinking about the reward, he chortled again. It would be a substantial sum. That was for a very good reason: Good assassins don’t come cheap. And he was Zagatash, the very best!
After dealing with Atlanta, he promised himself, he’d savor the treat of dispensing with that sassy redhead and her incompetent friend. As well as that fat old baker, if he got in the way.
Ah, yes, Zagatash thought happily. I wasn’t lying when I told them I’m a kind of entertainer. What I neglected to say is that the person I entertain is me.
He jumped over a branch that had fallen across the track. And my favorite entertainment, he finished, is killing people.
CHAPTER 20
Reunited
Promi found his parents and Jaladay just where he’d left them—on the Universal Bridge. For them, barely a minute had passed since Promi’s departure to Atlantis. Yet for the young man, more had happened than could ever be measured in time.
Sure, I have the Starstone, thought Promi as he flew toward the group on the glittering bridge. But I also have this huge hole in my heart.
He frowned, even as Jaladay, sensing his imminent arrival, turned to face him. And the worst part is . . . I dug that hole myself.
So absorbed in his regrets was he that he barely noticed the bridge as he approached. Though it had been built ages earlier, it remained one of the greatest architectural triumphs of the spirit realm. And it was also, as Sammelvar had helped Jaladay realize, a powerful visual metaphor of the importance of bridging both light and dark—in life and in oneself.
The brightly lit end, set in the Evarra galaxy, glowed from the radiance of all those bubble worlds in continuous birth, death, and rebirth. Meanwhile, the darkened end, anchored in the Noverro galaxy, throbbed with subtly shifting layers of shadows within shadows. What could be more beautiful?
The ancient poet Dalonna had described the Universal Bridge as “the complete union of night and day.” Escholia, who loved poetry as much as anyone, often quoted that line. But her favorite description had been what Jaladay, then only a toddler, had said when she saw it for the first time: “the everything rainbow.”
Today, however, all that wondrous beauty and rich meaning was lost on Promi. The only bridge on his mind as he flew toward his family was the one that he sorely wished he could build to connect his life with Atlanta’s. Yet that now seemed utterly impossible.
He landed on the bridge only a pace or two away from his parents and sister—as well as the sassy creature who sat on Jaladay’s shoulder. Watching Promi set foot on the bridge, Kermi lazily blew a stream of blue bubbles.
“Back so soon!” exclaimed Escholia. She smiled and rushed over to embrace her son. “I always forget how much faster time goes in the mortal realm.”
Brushing some of her white hair out of her eyes, she peered at him. “You get more handsome by the day, Promi.”
“More stupid, too,” grumbled Kermi.
“Hush, now,” said Jaladay, giving the kermuncle’s long tail a sharp tug. “A little manners would help.”
“Harrumph. So would a little intelligence.”
Promi’s father smiled, giving even more wrinkles to his careworn face. “Good to see you again, my son. We are grateful you’re unharmed.”
Stepping closer, Sammelvar asked, “What news of the Starstone?”
Before Promi could even open his mouth to reply, Jaladay pointed at his tunic pocket. “He brought it back with him.”
Promi scowled at her. “With a sister like you,” he teased, “nobody gets to deliver any news.”
She grinned. “True, but this way we get the news accurately.”
Kermi chuckled, swinging his tail so it rapped against her arm.
“Tell us more,” urged Sammelvar.
“Yes, do,” pleaded Escholia. The ocean-glass crystal she wore around her neck glowed with anticipation.
Reaching into his tunic, Promi pulled out the treasured crystal. It rested in the palm of his hand, surprisingly small for something so powerful. Suddenly, all the prisms embedded in the bridge’s cables glowed more brightly. The entire bridge swelled in radiance—something that hadn’t seemed remotely possible a few seconds before.
Escholia gasped in amazement. “The bridge!”
“The Starstone,” said her husband admiringly. “It has lost none of its awesome power.”
“How did you get it?” asked Jaladay. She paused to gaze at the brilliant colors surrounding them on the bridge, despite the turquoise band that covered her eyes. “Tell us the whole story.”
“Don’t you know already?” asked Promi. “Seer that you are?”
“Sure,” she said smugly. “But this will give you the illusion of knowing something I don’t already know.”
Sammelvar smirked at his wife of so many years. “You give me that illusion all the time.”
Playfully, Escholia shoved his shoulder. “Just to keep you in line.”
“You succeed every time,” he replied as he gazed at her lovingly.
She said nothing, but her ocean-glass amulet glowed even brighter than before.
Sammelvar’s expression turned more serious. Facing Promi, he asked, “Did you encounter any mistwraiths?”
He nodded grimly. “Six of them. And they would have destroyed us for sure, if the river god hadn’t come to our rescue.”
The elder spirit grinned slightly. “Good old Bopaparrúplio. I always regretted his choice to leave the spirit realm to live among mortals . . . but I’m glad he was there to help.”
Escholia chuckled softly. “I’ve always liked that his name sounds like a bubbling stream, if you say it fast enough.”
“So,” said Sammelvar proudly. “You accomplished your goal!”
Promi’s expression darkened. “Only part of it.”
His parents looked at him quizzically.
Putting the Starstone back in his pocket, he explained, “Yes, we kept the crystal out of Narkazan’s hands.” He blew a long, dejected breath. “But when it came to Atlanta . . . I was an absolute and complete idiot.”
“Very good,” said Kermi, clapping enthusiastically. “Now she knows you for who you really are. That’s the foundation of any successful relationship.”
Jaladay gave his tail another tug. “Shhh,” she commanded. “Show some compassion.”
“I will when he shows some sense.” The kermuncle folded his tiny arms across his chest and blew a new stream of bubbles.
Promi scanned the faces of his family morosely. “I had my chance to tell her I really love her. And then I totally ruined it.”
His mother gently stroked his cheek. “I understand, Promi. Nothing hurts more than missing the chance to say you love someone.” She smiled warmly. “That’s why I sang to you in your dreams all t
hose years we were apart.”
Sammelvar nodded. “And we love you very much, son.”
“That goes for all of us,” added Jaladay.
On her shoulder, Kermi just rolled his eyes.
Promi looked at them, his reunited family, with gratitude. What a blessing to have them all in his life. They deserved to hear him say that more often than he’d done in the past.
His gaze took in, for the first time this visit, the remarkable bridge where they stood. Linking a radiantly colorful cluster of worlds with a richly dark one, the Universal Bridge held the full spectrum of possibilities. Just as he himself did.
He stood a bit taller. Somehow, this bridge reminded him that darkness and light exist in everyone. Including himself. And that, just like his family, Atlanta most likely understood that point.
Even so, he promised himself, I’m going to get back down there as soon as this war is over—and tell her once and for all!
Jaladay, who had heard his thought, nodded. Telepathically, she told him, I do believe you will.
Suddenly she gasped. She leaned over the vaporstone railing, peering fearfully into the shadows of the bridge’s dark side.
“Attack!” she cried—just as a bolt of immense energy smashed into the middle of the bridge.
CHAPTER 21
Anguish
The Universal Bridge rocked violently as the attack’s thunderous boom echoed across the realm. Vaporstone struts and railings in the bridge’s midsection exploded, hurling debris into the air. Several cables snapped, whipping wildly, while others twisted from the added strain.
“Flashbolt!” shouted Sammelvar. “Scatter, everyone! Before they send another—”
Boom! His command came too late. A second blast, shot from somewhere in the darkness of the Noverro galaxy, slammed into the bridge. Hit by the flashbolt—the most powerful weapon in the spirit realm, capable of destroying even the strongest immortals with a direct hit—more of the midsection exploded, severing cables and casting debris everywhere.
Promi and Jaladay tumbled backward onto the buckling bridge, colliding with broken struts on the walkway. When Jaladay hit, Kermi bounced off her shoulder. Screeching, Kermi fell over the side and plunged downward.