A breeze rustled through Agnos’s hair, his shaggy bangs tickling his ears. He gazed into the sails once more, then said, “Nature is not our friend today, Gunther.”
The helmsman shook his head slowly and grumbled, “Today? Try the whole week, Captain.”
“Are we still making good time?”
“Not after this week, Captain. We’ll have to make up for it soon.”
Agnos nodded. “Well, we still have a month until we reach the day.”
“I hope you got the right day,” Gunther said. “And the right location. I’d hate for you to have to wait another year.”
“I believe in Zorra’s navigational and astronomy skills.”
“And as for the day, Captain?”
Agnos’s mind drifted into his past, to the tutorage of the smartest man he’d ever met. “I believe in Neeko’s teachings,” Agnos muttered.
Gunther chuckled. “I envy the mind of the man who taught you.”
Agnos smirked, then lifted his hand to gaze at his open palm. Despite the plainness of it, he became transfixed, lost in thought.
“Uh, Captain ... What are you looking at?”
Agnos imagined a trail of blood seeping down his palm. “My destiny.”
* * *
A seven-year-old Agnos walked down a hall in his orphanage, Lost Wisdom. Too scared of eye contact, he ducked his hooded head as other orphans walked past. A few of them made sure to bump into him on purpose, taking advantage of the rare absence of Toono by his side. One even grabbed the back of his head and shoved it toward the floor, construing his back at an awkward angle. Agnos didn’t possess the kind of soul to fight back—never mind his feeble stature.
Agnos had been summoned to the head librarian’s office with the specific request that he be alone. Understandable, for today, at the age of seven, Agnos would choose his path in life. There was no turning back.
Entering the library, he waved hello to a couple librarians and continued toward a door off to the side of the lobby. He knocked twice, and a man’s voice told him to come in. As he opened the door and stepped inside, he finally removed his hood.
“Good morning, Agnos.”
Agnos closed the door and walked across the office. “Good morning, Neeko.”
His skin hung loose around his neck and chin, wrinkled and layered. He had likely been tall once in his life, but old age had diminished both his bones and his stature. He stood with a slight hunch, and when he walked, he always had to reach out for something to maintain his balance. A cane stood in the corner of his office, but Agnos had never seen Neeko use it. When Agnos had asked about it, Neeko explained that it wasn’t meant for walking.
“How did you sleep?” Neeko asked, his feet shuffling across the wooden floor as he traveled from a bookcase to his chair.
Agnos took a seat across the desk and said, “I slept well.”
Neeko exhaled as he gently guided himself into his chair. “A quick response. That’s a first.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, as you know, I’ve gone through this process twice before in my life—once with a young lady and recently with Toono. They both admitted to experiencing a restless night before their day of declaration. They were ...” Neeko trailed off as he searched for the correct word, “apprehensive about their decisions.”
“I know what it is I must do with my life,” Agnos said.
Neeko studied the boy before smirking slightly. “Toono is eleven, yet he catches me by surprise every time I hear him speak. But you ... I would have never fathomed a seven-year-old could speak with such resolve.”
“That’s what happens when one replaces people with books.”
“Very true,” Neeko said. “But, one day, you must put your books aside and appreciate the company of others ... when you get away from here, of course.”
“I will always be an outcast.”
“You know of Phesaw, correct?”
“Yes, I’ve read all about it,” Agnos said, squirming in his seat, anxious to get on with matters of more importance.
Neeko must have noticed this. “Patience, Agnos.”
Eyes falling to his robes, Agnos sat still. “My apologies.”
“No worries,” Neeko said, reaching for a drawer in his desk and opening it. He pulled out a sheet of parchment and placed it on the desk.
Agnos’s gaze shifted toward a quill that rested on Neeko’s desk, its stem white and feather unnaturally long and tipped with silver. It was one of several relics that Neeko possessed.
“You know how this works,” Neeko said, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. “Since the moment you passed the exam, I was straightforward with my explanation. This will only work with your blood—blood you must willingly provide. I’ve allotted you two months to make a decision on if you want to go through with this or not.”
“And my answer hasn’t changed since the first time,” Agnos said.
Neeko nodded as he reached for the quill. “I’m aware, but best not be hasty with things like this. Toono was not as quick with his decision, and understandably so. Once you go through with this, there is no turning back.”
Agnos didn’t need to hear this. Even at his young age, he wasn’t naïve. He knew the significance of what was about to unfurl. That quill was a relic known as Creofatum. Its ability was to create and seal one’s destiny ... quite literally. Neeko was one of few who could properly make use of its ability. According to Neeko, there were limits to its power. While it could write destinies, it couldn’t determine outcomes such as death, life, failure, or success. Only the person carrying out the destiny would determine such endings.
Neeko held Agnos’s gaze for a moment longer before saying, “What is it that you want to do with your life, Agnos? You’ve read thousands of books that have encompassed countless subjects. Which dream will you tether your life’s purpose to?”
“I will find the cave on the seafloor—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” said Neeko, waving his quill side to side. “You know the rules.”
Agnos reworded his sentence, realizing he had implied an outcome. “I will hunt for the cave on the seafloor and the Thunder Queen’s chronicle held within.”
“Peculiar,” Neeko said, eyes narrowed. “And your purpose in doing so?”
“To discover the meaning of life.”
“That is a topic not even the greatest philosophers in Known History have tried to tackle,” Neeko said. He paused, looked into space, then repeated, “The meaning of life. What makes you think the answer to such a question is contained within her chronicle?”
“The last book you had me read,” Agnos said. “The one you had hidden in a safe ... A Time Before Ours. It was the most fascinating thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The story of the Thunder Queen and Mind King, their discovery of a perceived deadly truth that ultimately led to their demise ...”
Neeko cracked a smile, then asked, “Will you ever sound like a child?” After Agnos fell silent, unsure as to how to respond, Neeko said, “Yes, continue—you were speaking of the Originators.”
“I think the Thunder Queen and Mind King knew our purpose.”
“But they spoke of a weapon that’d annihilate our world,” Neeko said. “Do you not recall this? That’s what’s supposed to be documented in the chronicle: such a weapon’s details. How does that coincide with a purpose?”
Agnos scanned the room until his eyes landed on a specific section of floorboards. “Do you have the book on you?”
Neeko reached for another drawer, this time pulling out a weathered leather-bound text. Agnos gazed at it curiously, for he had thought Neeko kept it locked away at all times. Neeko pushed it across the desk. Standing up, Agnos licked a thumb before flipping through the pages.
“There was one word,” Agnos said. “The most basic of words, but perhaps the most telling. I remember the page by heart because of how many times I read through the passage. It was the one time the book tried to quote the Thunder Queen.”
Agnos found the page, then jabbed his finger at the beginning of a specific sentence. He read aloud, “We are nothing but temporary beings, a fleeting existence amongst an infinite cosmos. This, however, does not imply that we lack purpose. We are keys to a true horizon.”
“Do you see it, Neeko?” Agnos asked, turning the book so that it faced him.
Neeko didn’t look down. “I know exactly what you speak of. Now tell me, which word beckons your attention?”
“‘Temporary.’”
“I’d say fifteen hundred plus years is a lot longer than temporary, wouldn’t you?” Neeko asked.
“That’s because the rest of the Originators put a stop to the Thunder Queen and Mind King’s plans.”
“And you think the weapon was supposed to bring death; thus fulfilling the belief that life is temporary?”
Agnos bit his lip and shook his head. “No ... I don’t think a weapon had anything to do with it. Something got lost in translation.”
Neeko chuckled. “You were always one to read between the lines. What do you believe it was?”
“A concept ... or a theory,” Agnos said. “Besides, if it did end up being a weapon, I’d simply destroy the chronicle. I have no intentions of killing people.”
“That I’m sure of,” Neeko said.
Silence wafted over the office. Agnos began squeezing his hand, and Neeko took notice. “Anxiousness,” the man stated. “There it is. Are you ready?”
Agnos nodded, extending his arm and placing his hand on the desk, palm up. He had to rise from his seat and lean forward to reach across the desk. Even at seven, he was short for his age.
Neeko gently grabbed Agnos’s fingers with one hand, spreading Agnos’s hand across the desk. He leaned in slowly, bringing his quill forward to hover above Agnos’s palm. “This will hurt, Agnos,” Neeko said, eyes glancing up toward the boy.
“Just do it.”
The quill’s tip pierced skin, then dragged across Agnos’s palm a couple inches. Agnos nearly screamed, but he twisted his body and bit onto the knuckles of his free hand instead. It was a matter of seconds before Neeko had released Agnos from his grasp.
Agnos turned forward again, vision blurry from bubbling tears. Neeko sat comfortably, legs crossed and posture relaxed, parchment placed against a clipboard that rested against his knee. As Neeko wrote, Agnos spotted droplets of blood on the desk’s wooden surface. They almost seemed to hover above it, the treated, polished wood rejecting absorption.
Neeko looked up from his writing, studying Agnos for a moment, then reached underneath his desk and retrieved scissors, clothespins, and bandage. He placed them on the desk and returned to writing.
Agnos could feel the warm blood seeping down the fingers of his dangling hand, but he refused to visually acknowledge the damage.
“Please,” Neeko said, eyes glued to his parchment. “Wrap yourself up. Infection would be less than ideal.”
Agnos grabbed the supplies and began to wrap his hand, applying procedures he had learned from one of the many medical tomes he had consumed in the library. He held up his hand and observed his handiwork afterward. It was a bit shoddy, but that’s why being a doctor hadn’t been the dream he had tethered his life to.
“Has Toono ever discussed why he wears a bandage around his head?” Agnos asked, his own hand reminding him of Toono’s most unique trait.
“No, he has not,” Neeko replied. “And I do not bring it up. Do you have any theories?”
Agnos dropped his hand by his side and said, “No.”
“Well, when the time comes—if it ever does—he’ll tell us,” Neeko said. “But it is wise not to pressure him.”
Agnos nodded in agreement. Neeko lifted his quill from the parchment and read through what he had written. Placing the clipboard upside down on the desk, he cleared his throat. “The deed is done. Your life is tethered to your purpose, Agnos.”
The boy raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to feel different?”
“Not someone of your mold—with your resolve,” Neeko said. “I don’t think this needed to be done for you. You would have chased this dream regardless of the dangers presented.” He laughed and reached for a glass of water. Raising it in the air, he said, “But, since you persisted this be done, I gave you that satisfaction.” He took a sip of his water.
Agnos eyed the back of the clipboard, but Neeko grabbed it and placed it somewhere behind his desk. “You know the rules of this ancient,” Neeko said. “If one reads their own destiny ...”
“ ... they die,” Agnos said.
Neeko pressed his fingers together thoughtfully. “Precisely. I don’t want to ever experience such a disaster again.”
“Of course,” Agnos said. After a prolonged pause, Agnos smiled, his nerves settling. “May I leave?”
“Why the rush?”
“Lately, Toono spends a lot of time with that weird woman who showed up a few weeks ago,” Agnos explained. “But he said today he would be free to celebrate my Tethering.”
Something dark swept across Neeko’s hollow face. “I see.”
“What’s wrong?” Agnos asked.
“Nothing,” Neeko said, waving his hand toward the door. “Have fun, Agnos.”
Agnos lingered for a moment before heading for the exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy said.
“Have an ethical day.”
* * *
Agnos stared at his palm emptily, reminiscing on the day he chose his destiny. The scar had long since healed, but its purpose was etched into his soul forever. He gazed up toward the decks in front of him, closing his eyes and inhaling softly.
“You spaced out for an awfully long time there, Captain,” Gunther said, holding the helm steady.
“My apologies,” Agnos said with a sigh. “Memories.”
“Good ones?”
Agnos fell quiet once again, ignoring the question. Had Toono tethered his life’s purpose to resurrecting the Dev King all those years ago? And if so, had he known how he would accomplish such a feat? And had Neeko really kept such information quiet? No, that couldn’t have been it. Neeko wouldn’t have allowed such an evil path ... right?
Agnos gritted his teeth, coming to grips with the fact that he had never truly questioned Toono’s Tethering. He had just assumed that Toono would have tethered himself to the same destiny as Agnos, just like they had planned.
Perhaps that hadn’t been the case. Or perhaps Toono had backed out of the Tethering last second, electing to find another way of obtaining the information contained within the Thunder Queen’s chronicle. Either way, Toono was a man shrouded in mystery. If only Agnos could have been in Neeko’s office on the day of Toono’s Tethering. Then, maybe, he could understand why his best friend wound up taking such a dark path.
29
An Arsenal
“I want to know where my uncle went!” Gracie screamed at the top of her lungs.
Lilu’s eyes widened as she watched from afar. Gracie was bent over a secretary’s desk, unleashing the wrath of thunder on a poor young lady who was probably nothing more than an intern. An older lady stepped out of an office down an adjacent hall, her gaze stern and arms crossed.
“Ms. Jugtah,” the woman said in a clipped manner.
Gracie whirled, mirroring the woman’s stature to perfection. Lilu smirked as she caught shades of her sister whenever she’d square off with their dad.
“Mrs. Foster,” Gracie mocked.
“In my office, now.” And with that, the woman disappeared back into her room.
“I’m not coming in there if you don’t have answers!”
Mrs. Foster stepped outside once more. “He was summoned by the Intelian royal family. That is all anybody knows. Now get out of this building.”
Gracie’s head snapped around, her glare landing on Lilu. But even Lilu was surprised by the reveal ... and kind o
f angry. Why hadn’t she received a letter by falcon from her father or Ophala?
Gracie’s scowl softened into something equally as terrifying: disappointment. She was on the verge of tears, but she stormed past Lilu before such vulnerability slipped through.
“I’m equally as upset as you,” Lilu said, giving chase down the hall.
“Save it,” Gracie said. “I’ve seen the falcons you receive on a biweekly basis, and I know they’re from your family.”
Lilu followed her down the stairs. “They never mentioned Professor Jugtah. I promise, Gracie.”
From that point forward, Gracie fell silent. From IWA to the dorms, all Lilu could do was chase after her. When they entered their dorm, Gracie headed straight for her room, slamming the door in Lilu’s face.
Lilu stood there for a moment, dragging her hand down her face. She looked down at the carpet in frustration, vowing to send her father a strongly worded letter the next time the falcon visited. An idea popped into her head.
“Gracie, I’m willing to let you read all of my letters if that’ll make you feel better. I’ve been storing them in my room to go back and read through them when I feel lonely.”
Lilu lingered for a moment longer before accepting defeat and turning away. But just as she did this, the door jarred open. Gracie walked past and headed for Lilu’s room. Lilu half expected her to stop, but no, she continued straight through the door. Rolling her eyes, Lilu followed Gracie in.
Gracie was already seated on Lilu’s bed. “Let’s see them.”
Lilu huffed and opened the second drawer of her dresser, where she kept her pajamas. She lifted a layer of silk trousers and retrieved a stack of parchment from underneath. She then tossed them on the sheets next to Gracie.
“This is how serious I am,” Lilu said, lying down next to her. “There is a lot of confidential information in there that I’m trusting you with ... all to prove that I’m not lying.” As Gracie began scanning through the letters, Lilu added, “I’m enraged with my father.”
Gracie blew through each parcel, tossing parchment to the side with mounting frustration. After ten minutes or so, she sighed and plopped back into the bed, lying next to her friend as they stared at the ceiling. “That was insufferably boring.”
The Chronicle Page 32
