The Promise

by Peter Lerangis

  “Yes, agreed, absolutely,” Massarym said. “Heed her word, Brother.”

  “Lillu,” I said. Dunce, dummy.

  “Lillu,” Aya said, biting back a laugh.

  “Lillu,” Massarym repeated, nodding his head wisely.

  Aya and I broke down laughing. Massarym, not knowing what to do, joined in, slapping his knee and guffawing.

  The sound of distant thunder rumbled off to the west. I looked over just in time to see one thin line of lightning dart from the sky to the top of the Great Onyx Circle.

  Sunday

  AYA AND HER family are gone. I’m going to miss her, but I don’t have room to think about that now. My faith in my scientific ability is severely shaken.

  Our family waved the Akkadians off from the pier, and Aya stood on the deck of the gigantic ship. As they pulled away, the score of oarsmen rowing with all their might, I swear she returned my gaze. I craned my neck as if it would make it easier for her to see me.

  When the ship was headed out of the harbor, we climbed into our carriage and rode back to the palace. As we entered the courtyard, a man and woman came into view. They were gesturing wildly, the woman on her knees, the man holding something in his arms. It looked like an enormous bundle of clothes. The courtiers rushed toward them to clear the way, but I bade them stop.

  I realized the couple were Lady Karissa and Lord Al’duin. And they were holding a slumped, unconscious Nelik.

  As Father, Mother, Massarym, and I leaped out of the carriage and ran to their side, the guards snapped to attention. “Go alert the doctors!” Father commanded. “Run, men!”

  As they obeyed, Father hoisted Nelik into his arms and we all followed.

  My cousin was a horrible sight to behold. His arms were jerking in spasms, his eyes rolled back into his head, his lips flecked with vomit. With each of Father’s steps, Nelik’s head bounced awkwardly.

  I silently begged him to be all right, for this not to be my fault. Could it have been my blood therapy that caused this? I hadn’t experienced any negative symptoms. Neither had Kav’i the vizzeet.19 No, this had to be something different.

  The doctors laid Nelik down on a stretcher. The master doctor, an old man named Kaion, shot terse questions at Nelik’s parents. What had he eaten? What had he drunk? Had he ever had an episode like this before?

  Lady Karissa was beside herself as she turned from the doctors to Father and Mother. “He—Massarym—he was restored after his fall, was he not? The orb healed him. Please, bring it. Use it on my son or he will die!”

  Tears flew nearly horizontally out of her wild eyes. Father held her, almost as much for her sake as for the doctors’ safety. “The Loculi are . . . not here,” Mother said in a low voice. “It would take hours to fetch them. Will that be enough time?”

  As one, the doctors shook their heads no. Lady Karissa let out a long moan and fell to the ground, weeping.

  The doctors strapped Nelik’s arms to his sides, put a thick piece of cloth in his mouth, and tucked a pillow under his head. As they pulled a leather strap over his forehead, the veins in his neck bulged.

  “What are you doing to him?” Lord Al’duin demanded.

  “We don’t know what caused this seizure. We must keep him from hurting himself.” Kaion looked up at us. “All we can do is pray he rides this out.”

  “Is there no m-medicine?” I asked. “No treatment?”

  In answer, Kaion simply shook his head. Mother grabbed my arm and pulled me into a hallway, away from the others. “What did you do?” she hissed, her jaw clenched.

  “Mother . . . ?” I said, bewildered.

  “Nelik was with you just a few days ago. He was in your lab, and you two were playing scientist. You performed some crazy experiment on him, didn’t you?”

  “No!” I turned away. “Yes. B-B-But this experiment is safe. I know because I have done it to m-m-myself—”

  “Oh, you foolish boy,” Mother said. “You are far, far too young to have someone’s life on your conscience. A small discovery doesn’t mean you have everything figured out. Science is dangerous!”

  I glared at her, meeting her fury with my own. “And your science, M-M-Mother? Lightning above the Great Onyx Circle? What is that, and why does it occur when the L-Loculi are removed?”

  “We are looking into that,” she replied.

  “Your experiments are making Atlantis itself sick!” I said. “For all I know it’s your fault this is happening to N-N-Nelik!”

  “Karai! Stop!”

  Mother’s face looked carved from stone. We stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Then she released her grip on my arm. “Just tell me what happened.”

  Before I could reply, Father burst through the door, his face bright with relief. “Why did you two disappear like that?”

  “Nelik. Is he . . . ?” I asked.

  “Alive.” Father nodded. “Praise the gods, the fit is over!”

  “So quickly!” Mother said, her face flush with relief.

  “Kaion was wise to let it run its course,” Father said. “It may have been poison from spoiled food. Come. Lady Karissa and Lord Al’duin are asking for you.”

  As he left, Mother held me back. “This is a stroke of luck, Karai. I have no idea what you’re doing in that lab—”

  “But Kaion s-s-said—” I protested.

  “There was no spoiled food,” Mother said. “You will make sure your cousin is cured from whatever this is. And there will be no more experiments, no more crazy theories, no more supervromaskis. Enough is enough.”

  “What about the g-g-griffin?” I spluttered. “You saw what a great devel . . . development that was—my discovery protecting yours—”

  “I thanked you for the griffin, and I meant it,” Mother said. “After what we’ve just seen, let us hope the animal does not get sick and die unexpectedly. Now, let us visit your cousin.”

  Nelik was curled up on his side, already asleep, breathing normally. His parents were holding each other, his mother quietly sobbing into her husband’s chest. Father was sitting by the cot, patting Nelik’s shoulder. He didn’t notice our arrival, but instead motioned Kaion over.

  “L-Look at this,” he said, pointing to the back of Nelik’s neck.

  The doctor parted Nelik’s thick dark hair, revealing a strange patch that had turned white.

  The bird formation. The Greek lambda.

  My hand instinctively reached back to touch the matching shape that had appeared in my own hair.

  And that, dear Diary, was when I knew Mother was right.

  Tuesday morning

  This morning I rose before the sun.

  Sleep was elusive. I dreamed of hundreds of children, lined up at the Parade Grounds, all turned away from me, and on each of their heads was a white Λ. I woke again and again in pools of my own sweat. Mother’s voice in my head, scolding me, This is your mess. Clean it up.

  The courtyard outside is striped with the first rays of the day’s sunrise. I want to sneak down and check on Nelik, but I know Mother’s probably awake. Her hearing is scarily good and her chambers are on the way to the royal hospital.

  Massarym’s door just creaked open!

  Why is he up so early? Where is he going? Massarym doesn’t ever get up early.

  Footsteps down the hall. He’s hurrying. I’ll write again this afternoon, I’m going to follow him.

  Tuesday, a burrow in the woods around the Great Onyx Circle

  DIARY, IS THE world turning upside down?

  Seconds ago, a huge crack of thunder exploded in the air directly above my head. A second later it started to rain sheets of water.

  I will wait it out here and let you know what has happened.

  I saw Massarym heading for the ridge, the Great Onyx Circle. But rather than follow him on my own and risk getting lost, I stopped to retrieve Kav’i. We left the palace perhaps twenty minutes after Massarym. Just as we were in sight of the entrance to the maze, the sky suddenly darkened over t
he ridge—again, just as it had during the display of Loculi!

  What on earth was Massarym doing?

  I thought of Mother’s words: The Telion has massive power and comes from the very center of the earth. And we do not understand everything about it. So we must take precautions.

  Precautions. Not exactly Massarym’s strength.

  The temperature has plummeted, Diary. As I try to keep these pages dry, Kav’i’s teeth are chattering with the cold. Unfortunately my cloak is back at the palace. I can’t see much from here, but it does seem like this storm has spread. I’m hearing rolls of thunder from the east, above the forest by the Parade Grounds. Bolts of lightning knife through the dark clouds there, lighting up the trees bright as day.

  A huge blast of thunder, nearly instantaneous after a blinding flash of lighting. Right above us again. And then—a dark shape in the sky, illuminated by the bolt.

  Massarym.

  I screamed his name, but there was no way he could hear me. Maybe if there were a Loculus of Loud Voice he would. With a deep breath I bellowed again, “MASSARYM!” What is he doing, toying with the Loculus of Flight during such a storm? This could kill him.

  Another huge bolt of lightning, barely missing my brother. Kav’i is screeching, poor thing. Why isn’t Massarym coming down? He obviously sees the lightning.

  No.

  It can’t be.

  What a fool!

  A line of five lightning bolts, quickly in succession like fingers drumming on a table, just followed Massarym through the sky. He dipped and sped away from them, his laugh echoing dully through the thick air.

  He is laughing.

  I am watching him loop through the sky as if baiting the storm. Dear Diary, this is unimaginable! A finger of lightning snakes toward him, curving through the sky, missing him by a finger’s breadth. It is as if the lightning is seeking him out. As if the sky itself is sick and must destroy what caused it to happen. As if my crazy twin brother Massarym is an invader to be shot down.

  Our island is seizing just like Nelik, every time we remove the Loculi from the Great Onyx Circle.

  I cannot stay.

  Later Tuesday

  IT WAS STILL pouring rain when Massarym returned to his rooms. I was standing on the balcony we share, watching the downpour. He didn’t notice me as he tiptoed in, quietly summoned the maid, and gave her his soaking tunic. “This is our secret, Nilda, right?” he said. “Mother doesn’t need to know I was traveling in the rain.”

  The stout old woman sniffed and marched out of the room. When she was gone, I came in through the open balcony doors.

  Massarym gave a visible start when he saw me.

  “You were out there? What a storm!” he said, yawning. “The rain woke me up.”

  “The rain woke you up?” I repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “Just now?”

  “That’s right.” Massarym scratched the back of his neck. “You just spoke twice without s-s-stuttering, brother. What happened?”

  “You’re scratching your neck, Mass,” I said. “You always do that when you’re lying.”

  “And when I have an itch,” Massarym said. “Your sleepiness may have eased your tongue, but it has also given you a sour disposition.”

  As he moved toward his bedchamber, I spoke plainly. Massarym was right. My words were clear and strong now. “You did it. I saw you flying around, playing with lightning.”

  Massarym turned, the cocky grin gone from his face. “So what? It’s a stormy day, I was having a bit of fun.”

  “It wasn’t a stormy day until you started using the Loculi,” I said. “The sun was strong this morning.”

  “What are you saying, that I caused the storm?” He let out a snort. “And you’re a scientist? Storms happen. Weather changes. All that studying has rotted your brain, dear brother. You need to get out more.”

  He turned again, but I grabbed his arm. “Listen to me, Massarym. The Loculi should never have been constructed. They’re disturbing the Telion, throwing the island out of balance.”

  “So what shall we do, throw them in the ocean?” Massarym retorted.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “But we cannot keep removing them.”

  “Then you will be quite disappointed that I have convinced Mother and Father to have one last display,” Massarym replied. “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Another? So soon?” I blurted. “We had two already!”

  “There is an unstoppable demand!” Massarym said. “The people ask, so we must comply. As we speak, the heralds are already spreading out into the countryside. This time, we will be using all seven Loculi.”

  I could not believe this. “We must cancel!” I said.

  Massarym wheeled to face me. His eyes blazed. “You have used the Loculi. Did you not feel how it made your blood sing to have that power in your hands? Do you have blood there at all, Karai, or is it just ink and dust?”

  And with that, he tore free of my grip, went into his bedchamber, and slammed the door.

  Wednesday

  THE STORM HAS passed. The sky is an expanse of blue; the plants in the gardens are blooming ecstatically, throwing reds, deep oranges, emerald greens, and silky whites all over the grounds.

  The exhibition is scheduled in three hours. I am praying, Diary. Praying that I am wrong. That the weather will stay the same.

  That my brother is right and I’m a fool.

  I never thought that the possibility of that statement’s truth would make me so happy.

  Wednesday evening

  WHILE IT IS still safe, I must write what I saw today. It may be the last time I can. If this book survives, please, dear reader, wherever—whenever—you may be, take heed. Read closely.

  This morning, I chose patience over action. I planned only to observe, as any good scientist would. I hoped that my theory about the removal of the Loculi would be proven false. At the exhibition I vowed to dutifully fly here and there using one Loculus. Father would beat a squad of ten elite guards using another. Massarym would disappear and reappear all over the place. And so on and so forth.

  That was the plan.

  We waited at the Parade Grounds. The stands were thronged with people, easily three times the attendees of the previous exhibition. The smell of roasting meat and candied nuts and figs wafted across the green, manicured field. I noticed, though, that the crowd seemed uneasy. Many faces were solemn or even scowling. I didn’t like the air of tension. Glancing at my father, I could see that he felt it, too.

  We stood in the very center and waited for the Loculi.

  Seven burly soldiers emerged from the tunnel underneath the stands, carrying a litter upon which the Loculi rested, covered in an ornate cloth, stitched with designs that mimicked the filigreed patterns on the orbs themselves. The men set it down on a raised platform, and Mother stepped forward.

  In the center of the amphitheater, her voice rang to the back rows.

  “People of Atlantis! Within each of you lies something great and mysterious given to you by our cherished Telion, which is known to people all over the world as the Atlantean Force! In front of you now see the concentration of that force, in these seven globes which we, your royal family, will forever use to keep you safe, prosperous, and healthy. Behold!”

  The soldiers pulled the cloth off the seven Loculi. They pulsed with a faint light, blue and silver and continually shifting. I looked up at the sky.

  Not a cloud in sight.

  I thanked the gods, Diary. I was thrilled to have been wrong.

  Seeming to sense my unease, Massarym turned and winked at me.

  “Today we will show you even more marvels!” Mother continued. “But beyond that: today you, our beloved citizens—without whom there would be no Atlantis, no Telion, and no Loculi—you will get a chance to share in our delight!”

  A throaty cheer rose from the crowd.

  Mother focused her eyes on a withered, elderly woman several rows up, who was sitting with what must have
been her family. “Grandmother! Tell me, are you well today?”

  A murmur of curiosity rolled through the crowd. The woman knew she was being spoken to, but instead of answering, she merely clung to the young man sitting next to her. I assumed he was her grandson.

  “Please, if it’s not too painful for her, would you bring her down here?” Mother gestured to our men, who hurried up to the woman’s seat. They and her grandson gently helped her down to the field. Her back was painfully bent and she walked with a great deal of difficulty, using an olive-branch cane.

  Mother’s eyebrows rose as the woman approached. “Oh, dear. I beg your pardon that I called you grandmother. Why, I can tell you’re not as old as you seem. And so this young man must be . . . your son!”

  At first I thought this was idle flattery, but upon closer look I realized she was correct. The woman had the skin, the eyes, the hair of a young mother. She been aged by sickness.

  Mother took the sick woman’s hand. “You have been very ill for a long time, Mother, and it’s not getting better, is it?”

  The woman shook her head, tears in her eyes. Mother led her to a stool and bade her sit and be easy. Then she strode to the platform and picked up the pale blue Loculus with the swirling gold patterns on it.

  An absolute silence settled over the amphitheater.

  Mother held the Loculus in one hand and laid her other hand on the woman’s shoulder. Suddenly the woman slumped into the young man’s arms. More murmurs from the crowd as the ball began to pulse with a blue glow. After a few moments the woman’s eyes fluttered open. She began coughing, then hacked an ugly wad of phlegm onto the grass.

  “Now rise before your queen,” Mother said.

  The woman stopped coughing and took a deep breath. She straightened her back and planted her feet on the ground. Slowly, tentatively, she stood, dropping her cane to the ground.

  A gasp rippled through the crowd as she took a few shaky steps—and then a full turn, like a dancer. The expression of shock registered on her face before she threw her arms around her son, both of them openly weeping as the crowd of Atlanteans erupted in wild cheering.