by C. W. Trisef
“Relax, my boy,” the Guardian calmed Ret. “You made it this far without any assistance from the Guardians. That’s more than even Lye has been able to do.”
Amid so much dialogue, neither Ret nor the Guardian noticed the presence of a third individual who had just entered the structure. Stepping across the threshold through the door that had been left ajar, a frail old man staggered inside. Breathing heavily, it seemed he may collapse at any moment from his arduous journey. Yet, with a thin but sturdy cane to stabilize him, he limped down the corridor, following the voices of the conversing pair at the other end.
The Guardian had just inhaled to speak further when he suddenly stopped and held his breath. Noticing his alarm, Ret fell silent and still. With slight apprehension, they listened to a strange sound—a rhythmic sort of tapping—that grew louder with each passing moment. Soon, the sound of the visitor’s cane striking the floor was joined by the shuffling of his aged feet, then the panting of his weary lungs. Having reached the periphery of the circular room, Ret and the Guardian naturally rose to their feet and faced the outlet of the corridor, from whence the noises came.
The mysterious individual advanced just far enough into the light so as to be discerned, and not a step further. Though Ret had no idea who this newcomer was, the Guardian immediately recognized him, thanks to his white, spiraled cane.
Lye wheezed, “Did someone say my name?”
CHAPTER 17
LYE
“Well, if it isn’t Lye himself,” the Guardian said loudly, greeting Lye distastefully. “To what do we owe the displeasure?”
“Now, now,” Lye replied with a sly grin, “that’s no way to talk to an old friend.”
“If by ‘friend’ you mean traitor,” the Guardian sneered, “though you are looking rather old. The years haven’t been so good to you, I see?”
To say Lye was old seemed a gross understatement in Ret’s estimation—perhaps even a compliment—for he was truly something ancient. Like a petrified fossil, his cracked and wrinkled skin clung, taut and colorless, to his bones. His bright, white hair from head and long beard contrasted brilliantly against his black, flowing robes. Above his pointed nose and pale lips sat a pair of frightening eyes, the whites of which were sickly yellow while the pupils were milky white, combining to resemble the innards of an inverted egg. He stood like a shriveled prune, hunched and leaning on a white, spirally-twisted—borrowed—cane, clutching it with a timeworn hand whose long, sharp fingernails seemed to warn potential pilferers. Having heard a great deal concerning the might and zeal of someone as menacing and formidable as Lye, Ret was profoundly disappointed by what stood before him: an antiquated relic—his life’s season of heyday long-since replaced by his health’s cries of mayday. In fact, Lye seemed to age even further with every passing moment, right before Ret’s very eyes.
“Easy for you to say,” Lye scoffed at the Guardian, “loafing these many years in the shadow of your own life-preserving element.”
Instead of feeling insulted by Lye’s derisive remark, the Guardian was greatly puzzled, for it occurred to him that, without an element of his own, Lye should have died a long time ago. “Just how are you still alive?” he asked with great bewilderment.
“Ah,” Lye smiled with self-contentment, “now that shall remain my little secret.”
“Very well,” the Guardian stated decisively. “It’s now or never,” he said, turning to Ret. “You collect the element while I protect you from Lye.”
“Really, old chap,” Lye said with a surprised laugh, which turned into a cough, “do you really think I have come to contend? Do I look strong enough to put up a fight?”
“I know never to trust you and your lies,” said the Guardian.
“To each his own,” Lye shrugged, “but I’m sure Ret would like to know how it came to be that he washed ashore on Tybee Island, as a stowaway on Jaret’s RIB, now almost two years ago.”
Lye’s words struck Ret like lightning. All thinking came to a screeching halt; all attention turned to this event from his past. Never had Ret expected such a subject to resurface—at such a time as this—from such a source as Lye! For a moment, Ret totally disregarded Lye’s incredibility, desperate to hear what he had to say.
Noticing Ret’s captivation, Lye continued. “That burning ship—the one that Jaret tried to rescue—that was my ship, and you were on board—with me. We were friends—partners!—working together…”
“Don’t listen to him, Ret!” the Guardian protested. “He can’t be trusted!”
Though he believed the Guardian, Ret didn’t see how someone as frail as Lye could pose such a dangerous threat. “And what were we working together to do?” Ret asked cautiously.
“Fill the Oracle, of course,” Lye said, “Earth’s imbalance to be undone—cure the world.” Ret recognized Lye’s word-for-word quotations from the parchment that Mr. Coy had filched from Principal Stone’s office. “I have devoted my life to finding the elements, but I lack the scars—the secrets, the clues—to where the elements are hidden. Your ancestors, though they possessed the scars, had neither the courage nor the desire to help me—until you came along. Ret, you are a person of faith—a noble, valiant man who rose up and stepped in to fulfill the postponed destiny of your family line.”
“A family line whose First Father you helped kill!” the Guardian accused.
“To whom I remain loyal to this day,” Lye countered. “I have even preserved his staff, which rightfully belongs to you, Ret. My life has been prolonged just long enough to find the rightful heir of your First Father and help him in his quest to procure the elements and, thus, restore peace to a troubled world.”
“Lies!” spat the Guardian. “Half-truths!”
“That’s where we were going that day—together—on the ship,” Lye resumed unabated. “Because of your scars and genius, we had found the location of the first element—here, in Sunken Earth! We were wading above the vortex,” he said, pointing at the top of the coned room, “waiting for the approaching hurricane to open the passageway, when our ship caught fire; we hadn’t anticipated the boiling sea or the release of so much flammable gas. Then, when the fringe of the hurricane fell upon us, you were knocked unconscious and thrown from the ship while I sank and ended up here.”
Soon after Lye had commenced in recounting his version of what had happened that fateful day at sea, a list of unspoken questions had begun to form in Ret’s mind as Lye glossed over important aspects of the story. But Lye didn’t give Ret a chance to speak.
“Even though I had found this lost city, I still needed you in order to procure the earth element—together,” Lye said. “With my capability of traveling to and from this land wholly dependent on the prevalence of hurricanes, I enlisted the help of dear friends and associates all over the globe to find you and bring you back to me—and reunite us. And then I learned that the Oracle had been lost in the shipwreck, too. But think of it, Ret—think of it! You and the Oracle, found so close together. It was fate—destiny—it was meant to be!”
“Enough,” the Guardian intervened.
“And now,” Lye carried on, “you, me, and the Oracle—all together again, in the presence of the first element! Join me, Ret—rejoin me—and together we will cure the world!”
“I said enough!” the Guardian roared. “Ret, collect the element—now!”
“Wait,” Ret pled calmly. He stood speechless for a few seconds, taking time to ponder what had just been told him. Stuck in the middle of the verbal tug-of-war that had become this conversation between Lye and the Guardian, Ret was beginning to realize his important position in the grander scheme of things surrounding the Oracle. Just months ago, as the mystery of his scars was beginning to unfold, much of Ret still believed that it was all part of some inconsequential fairytale—a goose chase that would culminate in an imaginary pot of gold at the end of a vanishing rainbow. But now—having discovered a lost city and witnessed innocent people perish; having climbed a perilous
mountain and learned the underpinnings of an ancient legend—now, Ret was coming to grips with a fantasy that was actually reality, whose stakes were much, much greater.
But there was yet one question—a grand and glorious key of knowledge—whose answer had thus far eluded Ret. And the question was this: who could he trust? And how would he come to know who he could trust? Ret found himself at a crossroads—at the doorstep of a pivotal decision. Whereas he once disregarded this whole Oracle business as a thing of no real significance, he now understood the gravity of it. Indeed, his decision would determine his destiny—and influence the destiny of countless others. That was something Ret had never contemplated before: the power of choice.
Perhaps this grave responsibility was why none of his other ancestors had chosen to gather the scattered elements—if, in fact, Lye was actually telling the truth. Maybe Mother Nature’s divine hand really did guide a shipwrecked Ret and lost-at-sea Oracle to the same shore when they both could have floated virtually anywhere. Could it be that both the Guardian’s words and Lye’s story were true, despite their stark contradictions?
And so the question remained: who could he trust? At length, Ret decided that he would simply have to ask.
Ret looked boldly into Lye’s yellow eyes. “I have some questions,” he said.
“By all means,” Lye invited.
“So what happened to Jaret?” Ret asked first.
“Well,” Lye answered quickly, “I’d rather not go into such depressing things right now…”
“And why,” Ret persisted, “would you and I have tried to enter Sunken Earth through the vortex when the scar led me to the sunken road?”
“Obviously, you—”
“And Stone and Quirk—your idea of ‘dear friends’?”
“I know it may seem like—”
“And why did you—”
“Silence!” Lye yelled defensively, trying to regain control of the conversation. “You clearly don’t remember anything of your past, but I assure you,” he said, regaining some of his patience, “I assure you, once you rejoin me and we return to working cooperatively—together—, everything will begin to make sense.”
“I don’t think I believe you,” Ret concluded.
“You don’t have to believe me yet,” Lye assured him soothingly. “Have faith. Trust me,” he said delicately. “Just collect the element, and hand me the Oracle.”
“Never!”
“GIVE ME THE ORACLE!” Lye demanded, lunging towards Ret.
With impeccable timing, the Guardian outstretched both of his arms and commanded two streams of dirt to shoot from opposite sides of the sloped ceiling and pummel Lye in the chest, sending him careening backwards in a flurry of soil.
“Collect the element,” the Guardian instructed. “Go, now!”
Ret raced to the pedestal where the small wedge of earth was suspended in midair. He firmly planted his feet on the rim of the bottomless shaft stretching deep into the earth beneath the element. Ret cradled the Oracle in his cupped hands and waited for it to open like it had done before.
Meanwhile, Lye had rebounded. While getting to his feet amid the mound of dirt that had assaulted him, he aimed his staff at one of the room’s puddles of sea water and shot a bolt of water directly at Ret’s hands. The Oracle was launched from Ret’s grasp and into the air. It flew out of Ret’s reach, and, instinctively, Ret leapt from his perch along the mouth of the pit to catch the soaring sphere.
Ever mindful of his purpose to protect boy and ball, the Guardian sent a sheet of dirt to Ret’s aid, creating a sort of horizontal floor to protectively cover the expanse of the shaft. Ret collapsed on the improvised barrier with Oracle in hand. With great alarm, however, he watched as the Guardian was pelted with a deluge of water from Lye, causing the Guardian to forfeit his concentration on the sturdy, manmade landing for Ret.
Just as the Guardian’s floor gave way, Ret reached out and caught hold of the edge of the never-ending hole. Holding himself with one arm, he glanced downward and watched the dirt disappear into oblivion. He lifted himself up and rose to his feet.
Ret was now alive with adrenaline from the excitement of the moment, for Lye had engaged in a full sprint towards him, moving with unanticipated energy and dexterity. It was now clear to Ret that the Guardian, who had called Lye’s bluff, was right about their antagonist putting up a false front of elderly fragility. Thankfully, Lye was stopped in his advance by an avalanche of rocks that the Guardian caused to fall in Lye’s path.
Without a moment to lose, Ret cradled the Oracle and allowed it to align its marks with the corresponding ones in Ret’s palms. Then, levitating above Ret’s hands, the Oracle opened, splitting into six individual wedges, all hinged at the base.
Like an agile billy-goat, Lye climbed over the mess of rocks and debris that had thwarted his route to Ret. Not willing to be outdone, the Guardian threw up walls of earth all around Lye, enclosing him in a sort of adobe jail. Lye had scarcely been contained when the bottom of his white cane began to protrude through one of the walls. Suddenly, all the water in the room began flowing into the hollow shaft of the cane, and, in an instant, the Guardian’s obstacle was blown to bits from an inner explosion of collected water that reduced the walls to pebbles.
Unsure of what to do next, Ret was relieved when the Oracle began to act with a mind and will of its own. Ret felt it pull him forward as the Oracle slowly gravitated toward the element until it was hovering just below the beautiful clod. Then, with subdued grace, the Oracle started to close in on the element, its wedges coming together again. As the pointed tops of the six sections met once more, Ret watched as the sliver of dirt slid into the wedge that bore the mark of the hook and triangle.
He had collected the first element.
CHAPTER 18
THE RACE TO ESCAPE
For a split second, the world went mute, all sound having been completely extinguished. As if from the center of the earth, an unseen force deep inside the bottomless chasm seemed to inhale like a giant lung, robbing the air of all noise. Then it exhaled with tremendous power, like an electromagnetic pulse, sending forth a rapid shockwave in all directions that nothing could evade. Like an earthquake with its epicenter at the former residence of the element, the awesome tremor rattled Ret’s bones, knocking him as well as Lye and the Guardian to the floor. The acquisition of the element had not gone unnoticed.
With the removal of its central core, Sunken Earth, in its entirety, was thrown into violent and irreversible meltdown. Finding itself without support, the swirling vortex gave way to massive deluge, sending an ocean of water crashing down on the mountain. Water poured into the room’s center chasm, sending steam in all directions. Under so much stress, the mountain itself was crumbling, now robbed of the strength it once derived from the all-powerful element. Huge pieces of ceiling and wall were falling all around Ret as he scrambled to find the Guardian.
“Sir! Sir!” Ret yelled, finding the place where the Guardian lay, facedown. “Are you okay?” But there was no answer. Ret rolled the lifeless Guardian over until he was face-up, lying on his back. His eyes were closed, yet there was a smile of contentment on his lips, which was proof enough to Ret that his friend, the Guardian, had not been kidding when he explained that the collection of the element would mean his death.
But there was no time to mourn. Large chunks of the peak were fragmenting and rolling down the mountainside. The whole place threatened to disintegrate in a matter of moments. Ret bolted for the corridor that would return him to the door through which he first came. He had nearly reached the hallway when something caught his foot and sent him rolling to the ground.
“Ret,” a pathetic voice begged, “don’t leave me.” Lye, who had tripped Ret with his cane, was lying on the floor, now looking so aged and injured that Ret thought he might die of natural causes even before becoming a casualty of the natural disaster that was underway. “Help me.”
It was Ret’s merciful nature that caused hi
m to halt his flight. Lye looked so helpless, so pitiable. But when Lye’s gaze switched from Ret to Oracle, Ret knew that he must leave Lye to the whims of nature. Realizing that Ret, who was struggling to get to his feet, had no intention of biting his hook, Lye lunged toward him. Ret, noticing some jagged rocks in the room’s collapsing roof, waved his hand and sent a barrage of earthen spikes raining down on Lye. With amazing precision, not a single spear struck Lye’s body, all instead piercing his robes and pinning him to the ground, rendering him immobile. Impressed, Ret remembered that his control over the earth had greatly multiplied now that he was the rightful possessor of the element.
“Curse you, Ret Cooper!” Lye yelled as Ret dashed down the corridor. “You haven’t seen the last of me!” Then all Ret could hear was Lye coughing as he darted through the main door.
Recognizing his need to move with great haste, Ret decided to test the limits of his newfound powers. He formed a flat platform from the dirt at his feet and slid down the mountainside like a snowboarder. The soil obeyed his every command, helping him turn to avoid tumbling debris and creating ramps to send him flying over streams of tempestuous water.
In no time at all, Ret arrived at the place along the foot of the mountain where he had previously left Lionel to begin his climb. But instead of finding and rejoining Lionel, Ret was greeted by a squadron of guards, poised and ready as if they had been anticipating his arrival. Despite the large number of guards, Ret knew he had the power but not the time to take on his ill-willed receiving party. Consequently, he altered the path of his descent, hoping to not only evade the guards but also find Lionel along the way. Wondering what might have happened to Lionel, Ret was thrown into silent panic as he fled the scene like a fugitive, dodging shots of energy beams at every turn.
Ret’s route of escape led him to one of the upper level’s main waterways. There was still no sign of Lionel, and the guards were gaining on him with their all-terrain vehicles. He was running along the riverbank, hoping to find the next crossing, when he heard a boat headed towards him from upstream. By the sound of it, Ret recognized the craft as one of the speedboats that Lye’s soldiers used to patrol the waters. Finding himself in a pickle with the enemy afore and behind him, Ret was a sitting duck.
