by David Klass
I slowly get to my feet and look for P.J. and Eko. They’re both dazed, but when I call their names they rise to their knees.
A hulking shape looms above us like a giant gravestone. I look out and see another such shape, and a third. They’re ice formations, as large and mysterious as Stonehenge.
Kidah and my dad crawl over and we all huddle on the lee side of one of the ice formations. “Well, we’re here, right on schedule,” the wizard announces cheerfully, shaking some snow out of his white hair.
“You planned that, didn’t you?” P.J. accuses him.
“Well, it’s not the most comfortable way to travel,” Kidah admits, “but we weren’t doing very well by walking.”
“WE’VE LOST GISCO!” I shout, alarmed that the dog might have blown far away across the ice sheet.
It’s impossible to lose a loyal dog, a telepathic voice assures me, and a second later his snout pokes out of a nearby drift. He hobbles over to us on shaky legs.
“Okay, we’re all here,” I say to Kidah. “What do we do now?”
“We arm ourselves for the final battle,” he says.
My father adds softly, “And then we go finish this.”
58
In the shelter of the ice formation, we make our final preparations.
Kidah passes the Star of Dann to my father. “Keep this, Simeon. Your ancestor found it, so it’s fitting that you wear it into battle.”
Dad takes the glowing Star and hangs it by its silver chain around his neck. “When Dann found this, all the ice had already melted,” my father says softly. “Let’s see if we can prevent that.” The gem pulses, and a long blue sword suddenly flames to life in his hands.
Kidah turns to me. “Do you have a weapon, Jack?”
I take out my scimitar handle. It got banged up when I jabbed it into the ice wall of the moulin. I test it by willing the blade to open, and the sapphire flame springs out and burns brightly.
P.J. has never seen me holding the scimitar before. She studies me as the shadow of the curved blade flickers across my face.
“My dear,” Kidah says to her, “you have shared all the dangers and you deserve a weapon of your own.”
“A weapon like that won’t do me any good,” P.J. says. “I can’t use telepathy the way all of you can.”
“I’ll find something else for you,” Kidah promises, and folds his right hand into a fist. He waves it through the air, and when he opens his fingers he’s holding a tiny seashell. He offers it to her. “Here is your weapon.”
“Thanks,” she replies with a little smile, “but that doesn’t look very dangerous.”
The wizard glances down. “Sheesh, I forgot.” He blows on the shell, and passes it to P.J. She holds it in her palm and it begins to elongate. It’s soon longer than her arm, and tapers to a sharp point—a mother-of-pearl rapier! “This may come in handy,” he tells her. “The Omega Box is heat sensitive, and may prove impossible to kill with a laser weapon. An old-fashioned sword thrust just might do the trick.”
P.J. looks back at him. “I don’t know if I can kill anyone or anything. And what is the Omega Box?”
“It’s a doomsday device,” I tell her, “created by this nutty cult in the future called the Jasai, who believe that humans have done so much damage to the earth that we should all be eliminated. The Omega Box was originally a machine capable of wiping out all life on earth, but it’s developed a consciousness and joined forces with the Dark Army. It wants to help destroy our earth so it can rule with them in the far future.”
“It’s strange that you don’t understand their cult’s appeal, Jack, because I understand it all too well,” my father says unexpectedly. “Jasai was a friend of mine, and one of the wisest and most dedicated of our priests.”
My dad breaks off and coughs, and I notice that his hand goes to his chest, and clutches the area near his heart. The blue sword that flamed in his hands seems to retract into a pilot light, and his body sags, as if the weight of the world is dragging him down. In a weak voice, barely audible above the winds, he adds, “Now that I have been back before the Turning Point, I understand Jasai even better. We humans have been so foolish—we have done so many evil, unspeakable things for so long—it’s tempting to believe the earth would be better off without us.”
Then my dad shrugs his broad shoulders and straightens up, and the blue Sword of Dann flames out again. His voice grows stronger and more assured as he concludes, “But Jasai for all his brilliance was wrong. He gave up too easily. Yes, we were foolish the first time around, but we are capable of far better. We can fix things, and forge a totally different outcome.” And the King of Dann’s voice rings out: “Given a second chance, humans can govern this beautiful earth as wise caretakers, and usher in a golden age!”
“Well said, Simeon.” Kidah nods. “But sheesh, nobody’s going to give us a second chance, or anything else on this ice block. We’ll have to take it. So let’s go see where they’ve holed up.”
59
We reluctantly leave the shelter of the ice formations and creep forward, holding on to each other. Soon a jagged black line appears up ahead. As we crawl close to it, I see that it’s actually a gaping crevasse that splits the ice sheet like a river valley.
We keep back from the edge, and lie almost flat so that the wind doesn’t sweep us into the abyss. As I peer down through the swirling snow into that giant fissure, I glimpse a long blue snake slithering far below. It’s a river of meltwater draining deep inside the crevasse, sawing away at thousands of years of accumulated ice.
“He’s down there,” my father announces grimly. “I can feel it.”
“Yes, and the Omega Box, too,” Kidah adds. “If we try to climb down, they’ll see us coming, even with this snow. So we’ll take a more direct route. Come this way.”
We follow Kidah till he shouts out, “STOP!”
We freeze in mid-step, and the wizard claps his hands three times. At the third loud clap, the snow cover all around us shifts and two large openings become visible. It’s like two manhole covers have suddenly been removed, and we’re looking down into twin deep, tubular holes.
Kidah walks to the closest of them and peers down, taking the measure of it. He wrinkles his nose, as if inhaling an unpleasant odor. “Not this one,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s cold enough without a swim in a frozen river.” He walks over to the second hole, and gives it the once-over. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Very good, this will do nicely.” He looks around at us. “Simeon, a last speech?”
My father nods and his eyes rest on Kidah, Eko, and Gisco as he says softly, “Some of us have come a long way, but our journey is finally over. I thank each of you for your devoted service to a noble cause.” His gaze swings to me. “I know the burden was sometimes crushing, but it was necessary to bring us to this singular moment in time. It is the true turning point, when we will move the earth forward into light or let it slip into endless darkness.”
He’s looking right at me, and a tear glints in his eye. “I wish we had more time with each other. I’m thinking not just of my son, who I barely know, but of my wife, and I know you’re all thinking of your own loved ones.” His eyes flick to P.J. for a moment. I sense that she’s thinking of her mother and father back in their house in Hadley-by-Hudson. Then my father’s tears are gone, and he raises the blue Sword of Dann and sweeps it back and forth over us as if blessing us. “Strike hard and strike true,” he says. “There are causes worth dying for, and this beautiful earth is one of them!”
“Here, here!” Kidah says. “I can’t add anything to that speech, so into the rabbit hole we go!” The wizard jumps into the moulin and drops out of sight.
My father steps over to me, kisses me once on the forehead, and then follows the wizard into the abyss.
Eko goes next. She looks at me before she jumps, and her gray eyes are not hard for the coming battle but soft with memories and nostalgia. It’s like she’s sending me a telepathic photo album. I remember flyin
g with her on the Outer Banks, and swimming with her and the pink dolphins in the Amazon. Many of the most exciting moments I’ve had in my life have been with her.
In that moment, as she looks at me, I sense how much she loves me. She doesn’t express it as openly as P.J., but it’s right there, shining clearly in her gray eyes. She’s always believed that we’d end up together—that we’re fated to be man and wife. Now, in addition to her tenderness, I see the strength of her conviction.
I nod my head very slightly. Yes, I care for her deeply, and I can’t deny it. Nor can I shake the feeling that the future world is really my true home. She smiles and jumps into the moulin.
Old bean, Gisco says, I’ll be quite honest with you. There are a lot of things I’d rather do than jump into that ice pit. A good meal comes to mind, in a warm place, with amiable company. But let it never be said that when the King of Dann led the way, the only dog present even hesitated! Once more into the breach, or in this case, the abyss! Gisco leaps forward into the gaping hole, and sinks out of sight.
I turn to P.J. “I have to follow. You don’t.”
She’s studying my face. I’m not sure if she saw the look I exchanged with Eko. The truth is that I love both these women, in very different ways.
“It’s okay,” she says. “I’ve been down one of these moulins before. Anyway, I don’t plan on staying on this ice sheet all alone. Give me your hand.”
I hold it out and she takes it. We stand there for a long second, looking into each other’s eyes as the snow whirls and the Piteraq howls around us.
“Just one step,” she says softly. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” I whisper back, and at the same second we both jump.
60
Once again I’m in the pitch-black bobsled course of a moulin, holding P.J. tightly as we careen around hairpin curves and plummet down stomach-churning straightaways. I won’t say it’s easier the second time around, but at least we jumped into this dark tunnel, rather than falling into a hole by accident. I feel a tiny bit more in control as we slide feetfirst, clinging to each other and trying to avoid obstacles and overhangs.
Suddenly the tunnel splits, and then diverges again. I don’t want to get separated from the rest of our group, but we’re hurtling along almost in free fall. The twists and turns come like lightning, so there’s no time to set up a telepathic conference call and try to coordinate our routes.
I make choices blindly, and when the tunnel we’ve ended up in evens out a bit, I call out hopefully, Dad? Kidah? Gisco? Is anyone around?
Old bean, I think I see light at the end of the tunnel, Gisco responds telepathically. High time, too. There’s a great difference between a dog and a mole.
Lead on, old comrade, I tell him. I’ve got your back. The darkness of the tunnel is indeed starting to lighten.
And then P.J. and I whip around a final curve and literally encounter Gisco’s broad and furry backside as the large hound tries to put on the brakes before sliding headfirst into the icy river that now glitters dead ahead. Paws kick at me and a great mop of a tail swats my face.
I register that we’ve popped out of the moulin into some kind of majestic ice amphitheater, but my attention is now focused on the gleaming blue ribbon that we’re careening toward at break-neck speed. Gisco, if we slide into that icy water, we’ll freeze to death in seconds.
Quit biting my tail and help me stop us.
I kick into the ice with my heels and grab with my fingers, but there are no handholds. I reach for the scimitar handle but I can’t get it out of my pocket. I am trying to help, I tell Gisco.
Try something else! I enjoy a bracing swim as much as the next dog, but that river is liquid ice. Use those human fingers, Jack! Grab on to something!
Gisco, I can’t even slow us down. You do something!
I see a drift on the bank. Steer to the right!
I hold on to P.J. and try to tilt us to the right, and a second later we burst through an enormous pillow of new-fallen snow that slows us down just enough so that we come to a stop a few feet from the frigid torrent.
P.J. gasps. “What is this place? It’s beautiful.”
I look around. It’s like we’ve fallen into a subglacial coliseum. Glittering ice walls rise on all sides of us. The ice formations have different contours and textures, and sunlight filters down through the fissure and gilds those walls so that they glow in all different shades of blue and violet. I hear something and glance over, but it’s just the river bubbling near us. It’s splashing into waterfalls and whipsawing at the ice as it gushes through this mysterious ice river valley.
P.J. and I climb to our feet and stand side by side, looking around at the spectacular arctic scenery. “We have to find the others,” I tell her. “They must have popped out of the moulin through a different exit hole, but they can’t be too far.”
Gisco rises from the snowdrift to stand next to us. I can’t contact them telepathically, he informs me. If they’re close, I should be able to, but something or someone is blocking me. It could be the Omega Box. He has great powers.
If he’s blocking you, then he knows we’re here, I point out to the dog. Before he pinpoints us, let’s get moving. If the Dark Lord and the Omega Box find us before we locate Kidah, Eko, and my dad, we’re really in trouble.
I try not to show my fears to P.J. “Let’s go wizard hunting,” I tell her. “Pick a direction.”
She stretches out an arm. “That way!”
So we start off, slipping and sliding on the ice. The snow sifts down from above, but there are no winds deep inside this fissure. P.J.’s right—it’s a silent white world, untouched by man and stunningly beautiful. If we weren’t in so much danger this would be one of the most magical, secret places on earth.
Suddenly Gisco stops and sniffs.
P.J. and I see his reaction and also stop. What is it? I ask him. Is something wrong?
Old bean, I have two pieces of news, bad and worse.
Give me the bad one first, I tell him.
The ground is starting to tremble.
I don’t feel anything.
My paws are very sensitive to vibrations. And it’s getting stronger. I fear an earthquake, or maybe an icequake.
P.J. can’t hear our telepathic conversation, but suddenly she says, “Jack, I feel something. I think the ground is shaking . . .”
I feel it, too, now. I look up at the ice walls on all sides. They no longer look quite so beautiful. If they start to come down on us, we’re finished. What’s the worse news? I ask. What could be worse than that?
We’re not alone, he says. Someone or something has found us.
61
What is it?” P.J. asks, studying my face.
“Someone’s coming,” I tell her.
“Friend or foe?”
“Foe.”
She looks back at me, nods grimly, and holds up her shell sword.
I pull my scimitar handle from my pocket and will the blade to extend. The sapphire laser arcs out, and then it suddenly flares wildly. The blue flame leaps back down the handle and scorches my hands. I drop the handle and shriek in pain. A faint blue glow continues to shimmer around my fingers, and it feels like they’re still on fire.
“Jack,” P.J. shouts, “touch the ice.”
I drop to my knees and press my palms to the ice, and then slide them into a snowdrift up to my elbows. The burning lessens.
It’s the Omega Box, Gisco warns nervously. Only he has the power to do a thing like that.
We look around. Snow is sifting down through the fissure, and the ice beneath our feet is trembling. Ripping sounds come from all around us—the walls of the fissure are starting to crack apart.
I glance up nervously at the shimmering sides of the crevasse. The sunlight that filters down through the top of the fissure seems to be fading, and as the amphitheater darkens, the ice formations change color, from cheerful blues and violets to ominous purples, grays, and blacks.
I wish Ki
dah, my father, and Eko were here. I can’t help thinking that they were split off from us by design. Perhaps the Dark Lord and the Omega Box anticipated that we were going to slide down a moulin, and rigged it so that our group was split in two. Now that we have fallen into their trap, they will try to finish off the weaker half first.
Laughter rings out. It’s not the maniacal laughter of a crazed super-villain, nor is it the mechanical cackle of a machine that’s come to life and is trying to simulate vocal cords. Rather, it’s a hearty and very human-sounding chuckle, the belly laugh of a man who’s just enjoyed a whopping good joke.
I spot a figure standing on an ice shelf, high above us. “Hands a little too hot, Prince of Dann?” he calls down in a deep, musical voice.
I rub snow on my seared fingers as I look up at him. “Why don’t you come down here and see for yourself?” I shout.
“Yes, I will come down,” he assures me. “But someone else wants to welcome you first. I believe he’s an old friend of yours, and of your girlfriend’s, too.”
He steps back from the edge of the shelf and I lose sight of him.
The icy floor beneath us shakes so violently that P.J. and I are thrown off our feet, and Gisco lies flat.
I try to hold on to P.J. but she slides away from me. A web of cracks appears all around us, and suddenly a figure bursts upward, exploding through the ice with a tremendous shower of crystals. He somersaults high into the air before he lands on the shaking ice floor, as light and sure-footed as a spider.
I recognize his powerful build, his flowing white hair, and his glittering, black subhuman eyes. I can tell that P.J. recognizes him, too, from her time spent in his Amazon prison. She raises her sword and points it at him, and the point trembles.
“Hello, my dear,” he says to her, stepping toward us. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
His left calf and thigh are heavily bandaged. I must have seriously wounded him with my blast from the umiak paddle. But the Dark Lord is clearly a quick healer, because he barely limps as he advances toward us.
