Three Rings (The Fairytail Saga)

by S. K Munt

  Ardhi felt a shiver ripple over his skin, felt a breeze pick up and whisper into his ears, like a cloud passing over the sun, blocking its rays. Then, knowing he was on the right track, he thought of Ivyanne, remembered the boat, where he had found her discarded clothes, and something inside him bucked painfully at the thoughts, causing him to grind his teeth together in fury. The temperature dropped then, and when he imagined Tristan’s face, it dropped again, plummeting as the wind whipped louder. The next wave to lap over his bare legs hit with more force, like the sea was beginning to awaken, and Ardhi gripped at the sand, feeling like he could lift that part of the ground up with his hands and it would wrench itself free from the rest of the earth, coming apart under his power.

  Ardhi opened his eyes, and saw that the sky had darkened considerably, and that little slivers of white foam were beginning to churn about on the previously flat sea. He grinned, then shut his eyes, curling up every muscle in his body then dragging the sky down to him with his mind.

  The boom of thunder which accompanied this thought did not make him smile. He didn’t allow it. He set his jaw and tugged again, not needing to open his eyes to see the bolt of lightning hit the horizon-the flash of light beyond his closed eyelids told him that he had indeed, practiced enough.

  8.

  A calm, perfect day flight had turned into an absolute nightmare and Tristan was rapidly losing his nerves. When the sky outside the plane window went from orange to black, Tristan dug his hands into the armrests of his chair harder, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart was beating so wildly and rising to his throat that he feared he would choke on it, and his bowels constricted uncomfortably at every sudden drop. Lights flickered on and off, and some people were whimpering, while others were sick. One young woman, two seats ahead of him, was praying-loudly.

  How could he have been standing in the humid Fijian terminal eight hours beforehand, anticipating a relatively short flight to Los Angeles on a sunny day? Where had this storm come from? And how much longer would they have to ride it out for? It had already persisted for over an hour, and seemed to grow more violent with every passing moment.

  The Captain had made several announcements, detailing that the storm had become a wall-to wall issue, and that they didn’t have the fuel to go around it anymore. The plane had started a slow descent twenty minutes prior, and Tristan gathered, from the whispered conversations the flight attendants were having, was if the sky didn’t clear up, they were going to attempt to land in Honolulu. He had a feeling they’d already circled the outer islands a few times, but if the pilot could see anything through the blanket of cloud covering the area, Tristan didn’t know what.

  The plane bucked violently, and a few people cried out. Tristan swallowed and looked out the window again, mesmerised by the blackness beyond his little port hole, genuinely confused over the origin of the storm.The radar had been clear-he’d paid special attention. It was almost like a hole had torn in the atmosphere, and Tristan was being sucked into hell.

  The sky suddenly lit up blue, and Tristan could hear a distinct rattling noise against the exterior of the 767. Lightning, he thought, knowing it couldn’t actually harm the plane, not really, but not being comforted by that knowledge. Hail. Shit.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen..’ The captain’s voice sounded tight, anxious. ‘Visibility is too poor for us to maneuver a landing on the airstrip in Honolulu. I ask you to stay in your seats, and remain calm, as I attempt to land the craft on the water. I repeat: Please remain calm, and follow the safety instructions for water landing. The attendants will help you however they can. The inflatable slide will be activated as soon as the aircraft comes to a standstill. Please take the time to re-read your safety card now for instructions on how to follow this procedure and inflating your life vest.’

  Tristan suddenly felt like he really would be sick. A water landing? That seemed drastic! It was as good as announcing that their lives were in serious jeopardy! People started crying, looking about them in a frenzy. The curtain between first class and coach was open and Tristan glanced back, scanning for children he’d have to help if things went bad. He hadn’t heard a single baby crying for the duration of the flight, but there seemed to be three of four school- aged children sitting further back. If they survived the landing, he’d do whatever he needed to prevent drownings, but there were only so many people he could help at a time.

  That’s if I even survive! He thought, going cold all over. He looked out the window once more, swallowing hard. Ditching was well and truly a last resort, and one without a very successful history.

  ‘Please put your lifejacket on sir,’ a flight attendant said, barely looking twice at him before crab-walking down the bouncing aisle to the next row. ‘Please put your life jacket on, m’am,’ she repeated.

  Tristan didn’t bother with it-who would notice anyway, when shit went down? He leaned forward into his bag and pulled out his U.S iPhone, hiding it under his jacket, switching it back so that the bars popped up in the far corner. Two bars. He was close enough to Hawaii for that at least. They must have lost a lot of altitude.

  He quickly typed, grinding his teeth together every time the craft hit another air pocket and dropped. The message was to Bane: My plane attempting a water landing near Molokai. Be prepared to help. Bring others. He wanted to text Ivyanne as well but his Australian iPhone would have lost its reception hours before. He swallowed and added: If I don’t make it, tell Ivyanne that I love her.

  Just then, the inside of the plane went black. The phone was knocked out of Tristan’s hands before he could even confirm that it was sent. Hollering, he ducked his head between his legs, grasping the seat back in front of him in the brace position, calling Ivyanne’s face into his mind, clinging to it, to keep from passing out.

  ⁓

  ‘Link, you’ve got to dial it down a notch.’ Sherri whispered, appearing at his elbow around sunset on Friday afternoon. She’d timed her arrival just as Ivyanne had left to go help Lydia with something in the function room.

  ‘Dial what down?’ Lincoln asked, confused as he brewed the latte he was making himself.

  ‘The paranoia.’ She said simply. ‘You’ve been jittery all day, and that coffee is not going to help. Obviously, that Lux woman knows that she put you in a bad spot last night, and she’s keeping her distance.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘And there’s been no sign of the angry asian girl either-you might be off the hook.’

  ‘Pintang.’ Lincoln rubbed his forehead, feeling guilty. He’d been holding his breath all day, anticipating her to barge in and ruin things for him with Ivyanne with an inaccurate retelling of what had gone down in the spa. But she’d stayed out of sight. Was that because she was trying to stay out of it, and leaving him to do the confessing? Or had she been out on Bracken, regaling the queen with what she’d witnessed instead? And how much of a scumbag was he, for not telling Ivyanne that she’d returned, knowing that Ivyanne had been worried about her friend for weeks?

  ‘Yeah, her. I don’t know her, but if she works here, and is staying here, and intended to sell you out-she would have shown up by now. Especially when you took your break. I think you’re worried for nothing.’

  Lincoln hoped she was right. He’d avoided the bar as often as possible that day, unable to look Ivyanne in the eye, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she discovered how badly he’d messed up the night before. He wanted to tell her, but the fact that she hadn’t mentioned Loveridge’s visit had him feeling as paranoid as she was entitled to feel. The appearance of anger was the only thing not giving his guilt away. He’d never managed a poker face-not like the one she had clearly cultivated.

  But was her secret worse than his? Or was her poker face just indifference to the whole situation after weeks of being the scarf in the tug-of-war between Tristan and himself? If only he could read her mind.

  ‘I should just admit it all to Ivyanne.’ He said softly. ‘Before I mess this bit up too, or let someone else.’
>
  ‘I’d just leave it…’ Sherri warned. ‘If you act like you did nothing wrong, which you didn’t, maybe this girl will take it that way.’

  ‘But it’s what she’s thinking about me, that’s getting to me.’ He confessed. ‘The fact that you were there makes it so much worse. I don’t want people to think that I have a predilection to my bar staff. I mean, I was involved with the girl you’ve replaced as well. It looks suss. And I like Pintang. I don’t want her thinking I’m lowbrow.’

  ‘If she knows you, she won’t.’ Sherri said breezily. ‘We were the ones instigating stuff, Link, not you. And you can’t help being eye-candy for red-blooded women. I mean, you were offered a threesome Link-that’s almost impossible for a man to walk away from. The fact that Pintang only stumbled in on some kissing and mild nudity is something Ivyanne ought to thank her lucky stars for!’

  ‘I ought to what now?!’

  Lincoln’s heart stopped when the outraged exclamation damn near shattered his eardrums. He glanced over Sherri’s shoulder and into Ivyanne’s eyes, unable to bear even a glimpse of the utter devastation and rage within them.

  ‘Whoa!’ He exclaimed, for lack of better words, shoving Sherri out of the way and almost tripping over the bar mat in his haste to get to the princess. ‘Ivyanne what you just heard-’ he looked at Sherri, panicking, pleading for her to speak up on his behalf. But the waitress looked too stunned to form a coherent sentence now.

  ‘It’s not what you heard!’ He yelled, flailing mentally, unable to think for the stricken look on Ivyanne’s face. ‘Lux kissed me. But I was going to push her off when-’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it!’ Ivyanne’s hands came to her ears, tears filling her eyes as she backed away. ‘Not a word!’

  ‘But-’

  Ivyanne turned on her heel and sprinted from the room. Lincoln moved to chase after her, but then a firm hand caught his shoulders and shoved him back the second he stepped through the doors.

  ‘Let her go!’ Pintang snapped before pivoting on her heel and racing after Ivyanne before he could.

  ⁓

  ‘Ivyanne! Wait!’

  Ivyanne was too upset to register that the voice calling after her was a female one. ‘Go away!’ She croaked as she burst onto the hillside outside the Barefoot Bar and began to race along the crest of the hill, towards the forest.

  A hand caught her arm. ‘It’s me!’

  Ivyanne was whirled around, and when she saw Pintang behind her, her heart leapt out of her chest. ‘Pintang!’ She wiped tears out of her eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Backing my best friend!’ Pintang said, surprising Ivyanne by wrapping her up in a hug. ‘My god I just saw what happened! And now I feel bad for not warning you sooner!’

  ‘Warning me? You knew?’ Ivyanne’s throat ached, but that had nothing on the crunch of her heart.

  ‘I saw them, in the spa last night princess, and I went off at them. But I was giving Lincoln the time to tell you himself. He was always so great, that I assumed he would.’ Pintang pushed her sunglasses back onto her hair, which was more tousled than she usually wore it. In fact, for a beauty, she kind of looked like hell. Still, her striking eyes were enhanced by her anger, the blue of gasoline fire. ‘I cannot believe that my brother gave up his life so that lout could have a chance with you!’

  Ivyanne winced at the mention of Ardhi, and her despair overrode every other thought. ‘Oh Pintang about that! I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I was for how that went down!’

  ‘You don’t have to apologize Ivyanne.’ Pintang closed her eyes briefly. When she re-opened them, tears were clouding her striking irises. ‘All you did was try to stop him from doing anything he’d regret. I see that now.’

  ‘B-but you were so mad!’ Ivyanne cried. ‘At me. Because of Tristan and-’

  ‘Well I’m not anymore.’ Pintang gripped Ivyanne’s elbows, embracing her but keeping enough distance so they could lock eyes without going cross-eyed. ‘I knew Tristan was mad about you, but I got my hopes up anyway. It’s not the first time I’ve done that either-developed a crush on a guy out of my league, or lashed out afterwards. I guess I have a bit of residual anger about the Marked thing, just like you did. I can’t blame you for rebelling. I would have crossed the line with Tristan in a heartbeat.’ She shook her head forlornly. ‘But I came back to apologize to you. And to hopefully, get my job back with Lincoln. Although now that I know what a player he is, I don’t think I want it any more.’

  ‘So they were in the spa…?’

  Pintang nodded. ‘Lux was naked, kissing Link, and that girl was watching, undoing her bathing suit strings….getting ready to join, I guess. Link freaked when he saw me and tried to deny it-’

  Ivyanne pressed a hand to her stomach, clamping down the lunch that violently heaved towards her throat. She couldn’t even picture what Pintang was saying and didn’t want to but mental images penetrated depths of her imagination she had never wanted to access.

  ‘There you are! You haven’t left! Ivyanne please! Stop and hear me out!’ Lincoln cried, sprinting along the promenade which ran horizontal to the crest of the hill.

  Ivyanne almost hissed to see that Sherri was hot on his heels.

  ⁓

  Tristan had never been so terrified in his existence. Once, while swimming near Japan, he and his friend Sahori had been picked up by the lip of a twenty foot freak wave during a squall and pitched forward at such a velocity that Tristan had actually been flying. The following twenty seconds had been the yardstick which he compared every other frightful experience to, and none of them had ever come close to equalling it, not even when he’d seen Ardhi sweep the blade toward his ribs.

  When the plane touched down upon the water, instantly lifting up again in an arc, it had felt the same as that wave, and yet without his tail, buckled into a seat, surrounded by hard, unforgiving edges, the dread which overcame him was paralyzing.

  The flight attendant who had told him to put his lifejacket on must not have gotten back to her seat in time because suddenly, she flew down the aisle backwards, eyes popping out of their sockets in fright, her mouth open in a silent scream that would have been drowned out by everybody else’s anyway. She went back so fast when the nose lifted, that she appeared to be almost sucked backwards, towards the rear of the plane, before she disappeared from view. Tristan wanted to turn and see if she’d survived but gravity was holding his head in place. Yet the sickening crunch and outburst of fresh screams from behind him told him that he probably didn’t want to know her fate.

  A sob escaped him-he was used to saving lives, he’d rescued dozens of souls in his short time, more than most mers had-but the situation, and the setting for it, rendered him useless. He was just another passenger now, another statistic waiting to happen.

  Everybody was screaming, but the screams stopped dead when the plane came down again, smashing against the concrete-like surface of the water, like the passengers were a chorus and the maestro had signaled silence. Then there were shrieks of pain and fright as he heard teeth and bone crunch all around him. He squeezed his eyes shut, but heard the fragile human heads hitting the ceiling, and noses breaking against the seats in front of them.

  Oh god! Oh God! Oh God! The mantra repeated in his mind.

  Suddenly, the luggage compartments screeched open, and he opened his eyes in time to see a hard plastic suitcase sliding out from above him, towards the man in the seat across from him. Without thinking, he unbuckled his seat belt and got to his feet- catching the projectile seconds before it smashed into the man’s face. The guy’s eyes were wide, but then they met Tristan’s, and an expression of gratitude penetrated his terror. Tristan dropped the suitcase as others tumbled to the aisle around him, bracing himself against the arm of the guys’ chair. His wrist gave in at the pressure, and he felt a twang as some ligament tore, but he grimaced and held the position.

  Then, for a few seconds, there was nothing but hushed silence as the plane gli
ded along the water, finding its groove at last. Tristan dared to open his eyes, blinking, wondering if the worst had come and gone. He glanced at the man beneath him, and was surprised to see a relieved smile on his face.

  ‘Thanks!’ he gasped.

  ‘No problem,’ Tristan managed to say between gritted teeth. The speed at which the plane was catapulting forward had him locked into place with inertia that paralysed even his jaw. ‘Are we down now?!’

  ‘I have no idea!’

  Tristan tried to look around the plane, but it was too hard to see clearly-but it actually seemed like everybody was sort of okay. Had they been that lucky? Ivyanne’s face flashed before his eyes and he smiled, anticipating the look of awe and amazement on her beautiful face when he got to re-tell the tale.

  But the plane was slowing down too quickly, much too quickly for the speed it had been moving at prior. Inertia began to push Tristan back harder into place, and as much as he wanted to get back into his seat, he didn’t have the strength to do it. He braced himself in the aisle, muttering prayers to gods he had never acknowledged before under his breath, as were many others. The engines were practically screaming in protest, and to Tristan, it felt like the plane had landed in gooey molasses, not water.

  The giant craft suddenly swerved to the left, so quickly, that Tristan’s head smacked against the headrest of his own chair, making him cry out with pain as the smell of blood filled his nostrils. He had enough of a view out of his little porthole to see that land was within sight, but the sky above was what caught his attention.

  Tristan had seen some storms in his time-but nothing like the one he was viewing out of that tiny window. For one, it was compact and isolated-more like a flattened tornado than a blanket of grey. There was nothing natural about what he was seeing- or the way the dark clouds spiraled on an otherwise pink canvass.