by C. W. Trisef
To his great dismay, however, he still could not reach the island. No matter what angle he approached from or what speed he flew in with, Ret was unable to obtain the element that he so desperately wanted.
“I can’t do it,” Ret said in defeat as he returned to the Guardian’s side. Argo had just enclosed Lye in a flaming box of fire. Like a caged animal, Lye stomped inside the box, trying to devise a way to escape without getting singed. Finally, he rolled through the flames, some of his hair and garb burning until he commanded the water in the air to his advantage.
Lye looked thoroughly angry, miffed at being toyed with by someone he deemed exceptionally inferior.
“Enough!” he roared with hatred in his eyes. He lifted his cane and stamped it on the ground directly in front of him, sending a narrow shockwave that blasted Argo and flung him into the rock wall that was bespeckled with lava tubes. Ret watched in horror as the Guardian fell to the earth, barely alive. Then Ret turned back around to face Lye, wondering what havoc he had in store for him.
Lye approached the edge of the other platform, mimicking Ret’s location on the other and purposely positioning himself so that the fire element flickered directly in their line of sight.
“This is the last time I will make you this offer, Ret,” said Lye with sudden patience. “Join me. Join me like old times. We used to be friends, you and I. We worked together; we helped one another.” His tone had almost become fatherly now. “I can teach you the real purpose of the Oracle; I can help you unlock its full potential. I can tell you about your past.” The offer suddenly seemed very tempting. “You need me; you need my wisdom and experience. Join me, and I will give you the upper hand.”
Those last few words rang in Ret’s ears like a fire alarm. He had heard those words before. In an instant, a flurry of images flashed within his mind as his brain reviewed the past. Those words were familiar, he knew it. They were from something recent, he recalled. And then the connection was made: Lionel had said that same phrase when they were at the Intihuatana Stone at Machu Picchu—when Lionel had taught Ret that he couldn’t have something unless he was first willing to not have it. Suddenly, it was all beginning to make perfect sense.
“That’s it!” Ret beamed, still facing Lye but focusing his eyes on the element.
“It is?” Lye questioned, slightly confused. “So you’ll join me?”
“No!” Ret shouted joyfully at the absurdity. He looked over his shoulder at the failing Guardian, lying near the lava tube that Ret had taken. Then he glanced above him at the chamber’s roof directly above where the element hovered. With newfound purpose, Ret turned around and darted for the lava tube.
“Wait!” Lye cried out. “Where are you going? You don’t want the element?”
“Exactly!” Ret agreed, remembering Lionel’s lesson. He dove into the tube, initiated the piston-like combustion at his feet, and took off. In no time at all, he had slithered up the chute, slipped past the boulder, and flew through the rest of the tube. Reaching the volcano’s throat, Ret bent his course downward into the darkness. Then, blasting through the artificial bottom of the volcano, he descended into the lava chamber directly above the island, where he alighted gracefully within arm’s reach of the element.
“How did you think to do that?” Lye queried with concealed awe, still standing on the edge of his platform.
“A good friend once taught me that you can’t have anything unless you’re willing to walk away from it,” Ret smiled. “Which explains why you still don’t have this.” Ret retrieved the Oracle from his pocket. Lye gawked at the Oracle in worshipful admiration. Though far from his grasp, he instinctively reached for it, his mouth open, like a child at the window of a confectionary.
For a brief moment, the Oracle seemed to command the attention of every living thing. The small sphere of transparent glass glowed like a red ruby, reflecting the bubbling lava all around. Ret held it, in cupped hands, under the fire element. As it had done before, the Oracle aligned its scars with those on Ret’s palms, then lifted itself above his hands and gracefully opened. With a hinge at the base, it parted into six separate wedges, one of which already housed the earth element and another about to be filled with the fire element.
“Fool!” Lye derided, coming to his senses. “You can’t have anything unless you take it by force!” From his cane, he shot an electric bolt at the Oracle, sending it soaring out of Ret’s possession and onto the platform behind him. It landed right-side-up and slid, like a spider on its back, until stopped by the wall of lava tubes, not far from where Argo lay lifelessly.
As Lye exultantly hastened over to where the Oracle had come to rest, Ret made eye-contact with Argo. With one eye half-opened, the Guardian had faithfully observed the goings-on. He winked at Ret, then dragged himself over to where the Oracle sat.
Feeling reassured, Ret made it his objective to obstruct Lye as much as possible. He rolled rocks in his path and splashed lava on his robes. He tripped Lye with divots in the ground and obscured his view with sporadic fireballs. In the end, the agile antagonist arrived at the side of Argo, who was curled up and clutching something earnestly.
“Give it up, old man,” Lye demanded coldly. Having been ignored, Lye bent down, insensitively rolled the Guardian onto his back, and pried open his hands. Argo, now smiling contentedly, was holding a rock.
Incensed, Lye spun around to face Ret. During his prematurely triumphant trek to fetch the Oracle, Lye hadn’t noticed a subtle move made by the Guardian. As his life’s final gesture to protect the element he had been entrusted to guard, Argo had slid the Oracle off the platform and into the lava below. Then, he positioned it directly underneath the island where Ret was standing and created a sort of growing lava fountain to elevate it up to the floating island and through the hole at its center.
Just as Lye’s incredulous eyes fell upon Ret, the Oracle closed around the fire element.
Chapter 16
Out of the Frying Pan
It had been exactly forty-seven minutes since Ret leapt into the volcano; Paige had tallied every one of them. She sat between Pauline and Ana, all huddled together near the crater’s edge, while Mr. Coy paced ponderously behind them. When the volcano had calmed shortly after consuming Ret, they weren’t sure whether they should repose or repine. The longer they waited, the more their resolve waned.
Forty-eight minutes.
Truth be told, the female trio still had their doubts about the strange curio called the Oracle. Despite all the supporting evidence, it was still hard for them to believe that something so reticent would exert such a pretentious agenda. How could an object, virtually unknown to the world, expect to change it? Such self-proclaimed preeminence seemed illogical because it was beyond their finite comprehension, for, in this moment, all they wished was for Ret’s safety.
Forty-nine.
“We can’t stay up here any longer,” Mr. Coy advised with expired patience. “Any minute now, Ret’s going to collect the fire element, and this volcano’s going to blow.” With grief-stricken eyes, the girls glanced at each other, knowing Mr. Coy was right but not willing to abandon their vigil just yet. “If this is anything like Sunken Earth,” Coy recalled with gravity, “we’ll want to be as far away as possible.”
“Just how far away can we get on an island?” Ana muttered to her mother as they rose to their feet and followed Mr. Coy. When they failed to find Paige with them, they stopped and looked back.
Paige was standing at the rim of the volcano, morose and melancholy. An unseen foe weighed on her sunken shoulders and pulled on her bowed head, like the last mourner at a fresh gravesite. Though motionless, the light breeze blew through her blond curls, now speckled with ash.
Leaving Pauline’s side, Ana advanced to comfort her friend.
“You’re a lot stronger than I am,” Ana said tenderly, referring to the recent lesson she had gleaned from their turbulent trip. “That’s for sure.”
“Am I a fool to think Ret’s still al
ive?” Paige questioned dismally.
“What does your heart tell you?”
Paige gently placed her hand to her chest, as if she wanted to touch the feeling that suddenly warmed her heart. A hopeful smile forced itself to her lips, which was answer enough for Ana.
“I thought so,” Ana cheered as they turned to join Pauline, their spirits brightening. “Still, you have to be careful about those warm, fuzzy feelings,” Ana cautioned as they started down the volcano. “They could just be from heartburn, you know. Like, remember the time in middle school when…” Though listening, Paige grinned and rolled her eyes, glad to have the real Ana back.
In fact, Ana didn’t stop talking during the entire hike down the volcano’s trail, as if it was her chance to finally unleash all the things she had wanted to say while corked by her speechless introspection. While her mother and friend nodded with the occasional “uh-huh,” Mr. Coy maintained a considerable distance in front of them, safely out of earshot of Ana’s babbling.
On account of their elevated vista, they had scarcely commenced their descent when Mr. Coy scanned the horizon and caught sight of a ship sailing towards Fire Island. Although initially perplexed, it was with quick dread that he remembered Lye mentioning something about a ship in his conversation with Bubba relative to Lionel. Then, expanding his view, he was filled with dismay when he saw dozens of other boats anchored in the outlying waters all around the island. It was a full-blown fleet, consisting not of harmless trading vessels but of ill-intentioned battleships.
Rounding the final corner of their downward trek, Ana, still blabbing, abruptly swallowed her voice upon encountering an armed receiving party waiting for them at the bottom of the volcano.
“Where is he?!” Miss Carmen shouted as Paige and the Coopers stopped at Mr. Coy’s side. “I said,” she repeated, fuming with fury, “where is he?!”
“Where is who?” Coy asked.
“Don’t play stupid with me,” Miss Carmen snarled. “You know very well who ‘who’ is!”
“Who who?” Ana comically mumbled to Paige, deriding her former role model.
“Where is Bubba?” Miss Carmen screamed.
Then, learning that Bubba was the one who was missing, Paige added to Ana, “I think you mean woohoo!”
“Where is my darling Bubba?” Miss Carmen continued to rave. “Where is he?”
“Join the club, toots,” remarked Ana, referring to how they themselves didn’t know the exact whereabouts of Ret either.
“What did you say, girl?” Miss Carmen interrogated, rushing close to Ana’s face.
“We don’t know where your precious lover boy is,” Mr. Coy confessed irritably. “Now get out of our way and let us through.”
“Humph!” Miss Carmen snorted like a spoiled pooch. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell us what you’ve done with Bubba.”
“But we don’t—” Pauline tried to insert.
“Then it looks like we’ll have to do it the hard way,” Miss Carmen sneered. Then, pointing at Ana, she ordered, “Seize her!” The guards immediately grabbed Ana and brought her before Miss Carmen. “I’d love to add a few scars to your pretty face,” she hissed. Amid shrieks of protest from Pauline, Miss Carmen snatched a hand knife from her pocket and prepared to deface her former volleyball player.
Just as the blade was about to mar Ana’s cheek, a curious object in the sky caught Miss Carmen’s eye. Distracted, she postponed Ana’s facial to study the unidentified flyer. It was moving rather quickly, bobbing in the air above the ocean as it approached the island, headed straight for the confrontation at the foot of the volcano.
“Is that a bird?” Miss Carmen wondered aloud, squinting quizzically at the sky. “Or—a plane?”
“No, doofus,” Ana ridiculed, “it’s a floating basket.” Then, realizing the absurdity of what she had just said, Ana did a double take. “It’s a floating basket!?” she reasserted, though with much confusion.
“My balloon!” Mr. Coy rejoiced. “It must be Ishmael!”
To everyone’s surprise, it certainly was Ishmael. With all but its wicker basket hidden from view, the balloon swooped down on the scene like a fowl. Ishmael stood at the controls, a look of heroic confidence washing over his countenance upon realizing he had come to the rescue in the nick of time. He maneuvered the balloon over the guards’ heads and landed near Mr. Coy and the girls.
“Balloon?” Miss Carmen queried distastefully. “I don’t see any balloon. And—you!” She finally recognized Ishmael. “You’re with them! Here to save the day, are you?”
“That,” Ishmael concurred, “and to drop off some extra baggage.” He disappeared from view briefly as he bent down inside the basket to pick up something heavy. Then, reappearing, he rolled Bubba over the side and onto the grass with a thud.
“Bubba!” Miss Carmen gasped, flocking to his side.
As if awaking from a deep sleep, Bubba staggered to his feet, blinking repeatedly and massaging his head.
“Are you alright, my sweet?” Miss Carmen crooned, trying to smooth his disheveled hair, which looked all the more flaming.
“I’ve just had the most horrible dream,” Bubba explained, dazed and confused. “I was on an island, in the middle of a lake, surrounded by a bunch of people who wanted to—to kill me.”
Just then, several more stowaways revealed themselves from within the basket. Standing shoulder to shoulder all around Ishmael was a legion of natives from Lake Titicaca, armed and ready for battle.
Catching sight of these additional passengers, the faces of Miss Carmen and Bubba surged with fear.
“It’s a dream come true,” Ishmael said brightly.
With a sudden cry, the island people rushed forward, pouring out of the basket. Bubba and Miss Carmen let out terrified screams in unison as they stumbled backwards into their guards’ serried ranks, seeking refuge from the herd of wild banshees now charging towards them at full speed.
With their antagonists preoccupied, Mr. Coy and the girls looked to Ishmael for a safe getaway.
“Quick!” Ishmael called out to them from inside the balloon. “Get in!” Mr. Coy hastened to the foot of the balloon and prepared to help the girls climb aboard first.
Ishmael had almost grabbed the first, desperate, still-bound pair of hands when a set of invisible but powerful shockwaves burst upon the scene. Although both claimed the volcano as their epicenter, each jolt was opposite in nature. The first, like the suction of a vacuum cleaner, seemed to pull everything inward, toward the volcano, as if it was threatening to implode. Brief but strong, it brought everyone to the ground and even swallowed all sound for a moment. Then, as if switched into reverse, the secondary wave detonated, pushing everything outward, away from the volcano, with far greater force than its forerunner. Like the thunderclaps of a thousand lightning bolts, the previously muted volume exploded with a deafening blast. The wave sent every mobile body rolling before extending out to sea in all directions, creating monstrous ripples.
“That’s a good sign,” Mr. Coy announced over the dying noise. He and the others had been scattered by the tremor and were stumbling to their feet.
“Good news for Ret,” said Ana, “bad news for us.”
“Ishmael!” Coy yelled. “Get over here before this whole place erupts!”
The sudden gust in the airwaves had caught the balloon and carried it away from the stranded party and back into the sky. As Ishmael reapproached the ground, he threw the ladder over the side of the basket, hoping to expedite the boarding process.
As the helpless quartet sprinted toward the dangling ladder, they could feel the ground rumbling beneath their feet. The tall grass seemed to transform into a sea of snakes as a result of the constant agitation. Even the seawater along the rocky shoreline was as frothy as a bubble bath.
Breathless, Mr. Coy was preparing to latch onto the first rung of their lifeline when it suddenly skyrocketed out of reach. With a booming roar, the volcano exploded with terrible glory. A humong
ous plume of pyroclastic flow launched from the throat as if headed into orbit, filling the air with all manner of hot gases and a sooty mixture of gray smoke and ivory ash. Following closely behind was the first of many loads of lava—so large, in fact, that it destroyed the upper fringe of the volcano’s peak. It burst free like a once-caged animal, squirting into the sky like a paint sprayer. Bright red and glowing, the endless lava bubbled over the rim and cascaded down the slopes, creating wave after wave of unstoppable avalanches that melted everything in their path.
The volcano’s eruption was a truly magnificent display of raw power that commanded everyone’s attention. Even the guards and the natives paused their warfare to admire the apocalyptic event. But the stunning vantage point came at a startling price as awe faded to fear—fear for life.
The eruption brought instant and intense heat to the landscape. As soon as the volcano began to discharge, Mr. Coy and the girls could feel the unrelenting heat against their bodies, as if they were sitting next to a bonfire at the beach. An earthquake occurred in conjunction with the eruption, and the land continued to tremble unceasingly, making it all the more difficult for Mr. Coy and the girls to reunite.
“Ishmael!” Mr. Coy hollered. “Ishmael!”
The servant could scarcely hear his master, so high had the balloon been forced into the sky.
“I’m trying, sir!” Ishmael replied, flustered. “There’s too much heat—too much gas—in the air. I can’t descend any lower.” Indeed, the conditions rendered the hot-air balloon powerless.
“Do something—anything!” Mr. Coy pled, keeping a constant watch on the ever-flowing lava. “The guy-lines—throw the guy-lines!”
Ishmael obeyed. He heaved the long ropes over the side of the basket. After unraveling, they stopped just feet from the ground.
Mr. Coy darted for the line. As soon as he flung his bound hands over the hook at the end of the guy-line, however, another eruption dislodged the connection, and Mr. Coy flopped to the ground. This second eruption exploded through the side of the volcano, creating a gaping hole through which lava was pouring profusely.
