by Antony John
“What about you, Alice?”
Alice remained crouched by the fire. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your echo. Eleanor says everyone has an echo.”
She grasped her hair. “Why are you doing this, Thom? You fixate on our elements, like they’re all that matter. You just make it easy for Kyte and the others to bring you down.”
Rose bristled. “My father works hard for the colony.”
“Everyone works hard for the colony. Including Thomas. But all your father sees is a boy with no element. Whereas I see a carpenter and a tracker. I see someone who notices contours on the beach, channels in the sand, weakness in the cabins.” She licked her lips and spat black residue into the fire. “Relying on our elements has made us careless—your father most of all.” She looked up at last, and met my eyes. “I’m more than just my element; and if you had one, you would be too. Don’t forget that.”
Alice wiped her face again and stood. She left without a word. A moment later, the door to the shelter opened and closed.
Rose stared at the ground. Her lips were parted, but she didn’t speak.
I was tongue-tied too. I knew that Alice hated Kyte, but I’d assumed it was because he was always punishing her. I never imagined it might have something to do with me.
Dennis shifted his weight from foot to foot, and finally turned away.
“I think your father just feels responsible for us,” I said softly. Anything to break the awkward silence.
Rose smiled, but it was tinged with anger. “That’s such a Thomas thing to say.” She peered up and made eye contact; for once, neither of us broke it. “Alice is right, you know. It is unfair the way my father treats you. And I wish I could stand up to him, I really do, but . . .” She shrugged as the words ran out. “I just want you to know, she’s not the only one who thinks you’re special.”
She lowered her eyes then, and twisted her bangle. Silence fell between us. But in my mind I heard the word over and over: special. I’d waited so long to hear her say it, to mirror what I felt for her.
I placed a finger on her bangle to stop the endless, nervous turning. She peered up again, eyebrows serious and straight, teeth biting her lower lip. She was breathing heavily. So was I.
I let my finger slide off, but before I could touch her wrist, she eased away. It was a tiny motion, but it told me everything I needed to know.
“Thomas, there’s something—”
“I should go.” I didn’t need an explanation—didn’t want one, either. “I’m still tired. Anyway, we’ll all be busy once the Guardians arrive.”
“You’re going to join Alice.”
Actually, Alice was the last thing on my mind right then. But it was obvious how much the thought bothered Rose.
I decided not to contradict her.
* * *
I’d been lying awake for half a strike when the door flew open and Dennis’s footsteps pounded against the stairs. “Thomas, we need you,” he shouted. “Something’s wrong.”
Alice was up in a flash, long legs flying across the shelter and onto the steps. I sprinted after her. Outside, I took a deep breath and followed their gazes across the sound to our colony on Hatteras Island.
“I can’t see anything through the cloud,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
Alice shook her head. “That’s not a cloud. It’s smoke.” She took a hesitant step forward. “Our island is on fire.”
CHAPTER 8
For a moment I figured I’d misheard her, but Alice was already shouting at us to grab our water canisters and head for the canoes. I ran back into the shelter to wake Griffin. When I shook him, he startled.
We go, I signed desperately, hands shaking.
He seemed to look straight through me.
“Leave him,” shouted Alice from behind me. “We need to go!”
“No. He comes with us. He’s strong in a canoe.”
“You sure about that? He’s barely moved all day.”
I wouldn’t leave him behind, though. Wouldn’t make him spend the afternoon alone.
I grabbed Griffin’s canister and threw it into my bag. Then I pulled his arm and half bullied, half dragged him out of his bed. He groaned in protest.
Out on the road, I scanned the sound for signs of Ananias and Eleanor’s canoe, but saw only the wide expanse of blue-gray water. I checked the bridge, desperately hoping that the Guardians might be on it. But when I glanced at Griffin and saw the same ghostly expression he’d worn the day before, I knew they weren’t coming for us.
My thoughts flew back to the previous afternoon, as my father had struggled to break free from Griffin’s grasp. What if Griffin hadn’t foreseen Guardian Lora’s death at all? What if the terror he’d foreseen was our colony engulfed in smoke? What if our father was caught in the middle of it?
No one but Alice spoke as we drove our canoes through the water, her shouts of encouragement emphasized by the rhythmic splash of paddles and the sharp intake of breath that preceded each stroke. Halfway across, the remaining clouds dispersed, sunlight bursting through. The smoke from Hatteras Island changed direction too, whipped up and away by each gust. It made it easier for me to pinpoint the location of the fires, but also made it clear that they were still burning.
With every stroke, Rose and I lost ground on the other canoe. Having the element of water helped her to swim like a fish, but didn’t extend to the brute force of propelling a canoe. Plus, we had Dennis’s extra weight. Ahead of us, Alice gripped her paddle as if it were a weapon. Griffin followed her strokes mechanically.
I dug my paddle in and pushed harder. Little by little we closed the gap.
When we reached the marshy shore of Hatteras Island, Alice directed us along a winding creek that led to the center. We moved quickly on the calmer water. I’d half expected to see Ananias and Eleanor’s canoe at the end, but they must have taken a different channel.
We dragged the canoes onto the bank. Just ahead of us, plumes of smoke were clear above the low tree line. Alice took off at a sprint, and we all followed. Griffin was slowest, his lurching strides made even more awkward by the uneven ground. I stayed with him, signing encouragement.
The acrid smoke grew thicker as we passed through trees and clambered over dunes, but we didn’t stop until we could see the colony.
Or what remained of it.
The cabins were burnt-out shells, still crackling as the stilts were consumed by fire. Not a single structure had survived. There was no point in searching for possessions; there would be nothing left to salvage. As for the Guardians and Apprentices, they were nowhere in sight.
Our families had vanished.
“Mother! Father!” Dennis screamed.
Rose wrapped her arms around him, using her height to block his view of the destruction.
Alice stumbled toward the flames, eyes scanning the remains in search of something that might explain what had happened.
Griffin didn’t react at all.
“They’re probably just sheltering, right?” shouted Rose. Her voice sounded tight and shrill. “They’ll come back once they know we’re here.”
I watched the flames lick the timber stilts. “It must have been a lightning strike.”
“No. Not lightning,” said Alice.
“How do you know?”
“The lightning ended last night. These fires are new.”
“She’s right,” said Dennis. “This storm told me the lightning would pass early.” He spoke with the same confidence as a Guardian of the Wind; more, even.
“But your element isn’t fully developed yet. You could be wrong.”
Dennis and Rose exchanged glances but said nothing.
“Look at this,” said Alice.
Griffin was breathing heavily and massaging his right leg, so I left him sitting o
n the dune while the rest of us edged closer to her. She knelt beside a decimated cabin, prodding a piece of charred wood with a stick, conjuring sparks. She flinched from the searing heat.
“This wood got wet during the storm,” she explained. “The wind and sun would’ve dried it, but . . . it burned so quickly.” She grimaced again, and pulled back as though she was hurt.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s just . . . the fire feels harsher on Hatteras.”
Before I could ask her what she meant, Rose stepped forward. “What are we going to do?”
“We need to look for the Guardians,” I said.
Alice narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know. Everything about this feels wrong.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Until we can work out where the Guardians are, we need supplies—anything we can get. Do you know where your parents keep their dune box?”
“Of course not,” said Rose. “Dune boxes are private. My father won’t even let us talk about his.”
“Well, he’s not here now. So you’d better follow me.”
“How do you know where it is?” I asked, surprised.
“Because I’ve explored every grain of sand on this island. It’s about the only thing that’s kept me from going crazy. Now, come on.”
We clambered over dunes, the sand still damp from the recent storm. After two hundred yards, Alice knelt beside a large clump of dune grass and used her hands to measure away from the center. Then she cupped her hands and began digging.
“This one’s quite deep,” she said as she hit something solid. “Rose, Dennis, dig it out while I find the next.”
Before they could ask how she was so certain about the location, Alice headed to a different part of the beach. I followed right behind. Here there were several smaller dunes, seemingly identical banks of sand and grass. When I looked back, I couldn’t see Rose and Dennis at all.
Again Alice dove to the ground and measured with her hands to find the right place. She dug furiously, until even her elbows were below ground level. Then she pulled out a wooden box no longer than my forearm, decorated with sand dollars and sharks’ teeth.
“Whose box is this?” I asked.
“Your father’s.”
“Have you opened it?”
“No! It’s none of my business what your father put in there.”
“So how do you know it’s my father’s box?”
She rested on her haunches and stared into the distance. “You should be grateful.”
I was grateful, but that wasn’t the point. She shouldn’t have known the location of my father’s box; not unless everyone was right, and she’d been spying on us all for years. And what other explanation was there? Alice always knew things she shouldn’t.
“Check the contents, and bring the box with you,” she said, leaving.
The box was unlocked, but the hinges had rusted. I wedged a stone into the seam where the two halves joined, and kicked it to open the box. A cloth parcel spilled onto the ground, along with a pair of binoculars that I slung around my neck. Inside the parcel was a small leather book. I fanned the yellow-brown pages, filled with intricate handwritten words in perfect straight lines.
Griffin would be pleased to have something new to read. Maybe it would perk him up.
There was something else too: a piece of paper, like the paper the Guardians had found in Skeleton Town. It was folded in quarters to fit in the box, but seemed newer than the pages in the journal. I unfolded it gently, careful not to tear it.
It was a drawing of a woman—long hair, high cheekbones, a tight-lipped smile. I’d never seen her before, as far as I could recall; but on the other hand, I’d seen her just that morning when I’d stared into the mirror-like water around Guardian Lora’s dead body.
The woman looked just like me.
CHAPTER 9
I sprinted to where Griffin sat on the highest dune and dropped the box beside him. Although I couldn’t imagine who had drawn such a fine portrait, I wanted him to see it. From her appearance, the woman had to be our mother. She had drowned the morning after Griffin was born. Now at last he’d know what she looked like.
Before I could unfold it, Griffin took the leather-bound book from the box. It was the first time he’d shown interest in anything since his seizure. It felt like progress.
Shouts from the water’s edge pulled me around. I hoped it might be one of the Guardians or Apprentices, but it was Dennis. He was beside the smoldering remains of the colony’s two sailboats, leaping up and down, waving his arms. He sounded excited, even exhilarated. When I glanced beyond him and saw what he was looking at, I understood why.
I flew down the dune and joined him. I shouted at the top of my lungs too, even though I knew no one on the distant sailing ship would be able to hear us. It was more than a mile to the southeast, and pulling away with every passing moment.
Rose and Alice came right after me. We all flailed our arms, willing someone on the ship to see us.
“A clan ship,” cried Rose. I could hear the relief in her voice. “Can anyone see the flag?”
“It’s yellow,” said Alice.
“How can you tell?” I asked. I lifted my binoculars and focused on the ship. Sure enough, a beautiful yellow flag whipped atop the mast. “Alice is right. Which clan is yellow?”
No one answered, but it didn’t matter. Clan ships passed by so rarely that we couldn’t waste a moment.
“I’ll grab one of the burning sticks from the cabins,” announced Alice. “Use it as a torch. It’ll make it easier for them to see us.”
She took off up the beach as the rest of us jumped even higher, screamed even louder.
“It’s not turning,” said Dennis. “Why isn’t it turning?”
“It’s a long way away,” answered Rose. “Keep going. Don’t give up.”
More yelling. More leaping on the spot, as sand slipped underfoot. But still no sign of Alice and her torch. I peered over my shoulder.
I couldn’t see her at all.
“Alice?” The word came out quiet, but it was enough to make Rose and Dennis stop instantly. “Where is she?”
Rose spun around. “Alice,” she shouted.
No response, but when the smoke cleared momentarily I saw her. Alice stood behind the cabins, utterly still. With wisps of smoke coiling around her, she looked like a ghost.
My feet began to move, though I was barely aware of them. All I could think was that something had happened to her. Rose and Dennis followed right behind me.
When we reached her, Alice knelt in the sand, her eyes fixed on the entire row of cabins. “Fire is alive, like an animal,” she murmured. “It eats and breathes . . . and moves. But it needs time.” The way she spoke—quiet, methodical—sounded like she was explaining things to herself as much as to us. She wiped sweat off her brow, but she never blinked. “See these stilts? They’ve all burned to the same place. That means they burned at the same speed. The wind can’t do that. Only way it can happen is if someone started them all at the same time.”
“Who would start a fire deliberately?” asked Rose. “Who could’ve done that?”
No one answered, but I felt Dennis’s eyes drift toward me. Apart from Alice, only two people had the element of fire.
“No,” I said. “My father would never do it. Ananias neither. You know they wouldn’t.”
“I’m not saying . . .” began Rose. She stopped as Alice slid past us, eyes fixed on the clan ship out at sea. “What is it, Alice?”
I looked toward the horizon too. The ship wasn’t sailing parallel to our island, I now realized, but at an angle, like it was in the process of leaving. I raised the binoculars and tried to make out what was happening on board.
“Put the binoculars down, Thom,” said Alice. “They reflect the sun.
”
“So?”
“We need time to think.”
“About what?”
“Put them down,” she snarled. “The flag is black.”
“What? That’s ridiculous,” said Rose. “Thomas saw it. It’s yellow. Tell her, Thomas.”
I heard every word, but I didn’t respond. I was too busy watching the sailors on the deck of the ship, and noticing that there were no women or children at all. One of the men leaned against the ship’s back rail and stared in our direction. Through the binoculars I could make out a mane of long dark hair that obscured his features. And I could see that his arms were covered in a variety of unnatural colors: red and green and blue. Most of all, I saw that when he raised his hand, all movement around him ceased. It was as though he’d frozen every person on board.
I felt frozen too.
Finally I forced myself to look away, to scan the rest of the ship. Halfway up the mast, fluttering wildly, there were now two flags: the yellow one being lowered . . . and a black one being raised.
“Black.” I could barely get the word out. “They have a black flag.”
“Put the binoculars down.” Alice’s voice was low and intense, like they could hear us somehow. “That’s no clan ship.”
I did as she said, and hoped that my eyes had deceived me. But I knew they hadn’t.
It was a pirate ship.
“We need to go,” said Alice. “Stay behind the cabins so the smoke will hide us. Then head for the dunes. Go now!”
I’d never run so fast in my life. When I reached the top of the dune, I dove over it and pulled Griffin down with me. He grunted angrily.
“What are they doing here?” Alice panted, once we were hidden. “They haven’t passed this way in years.”
Thirteen years, to be precise. I was too young to remember the details, but I knew the outcome all too well. They landed under the pretense of wanting to trade. But the following dawn they ransacked the colony, stole our food reserves, and threatened the Guardians with weapons that no element could withstand. By the time I was allowed to emerge from hiding later that morning, we had no food, no tools, and my mother was gone—drowned as she attempted to repel the pirates. The Guardians wouldn’t say more, but over time other details emerged: how one of the pirates had struck her so hard that her blood darkened the waves crashing against the shore; how the Guardians would recognize him because of his colorful arms.
