The rock ricocheted off the tree and struck Tsisa on the backside. “Ouch!” She lurched forward and shouldered Roeg, knocking him to the ground.
Hopping in circles, Tsisa grabbed at her backside. “That hit me, you oaf!” she yelled, as she charged at Ookum.
Ookum’s huge grin faded, and his eyes grew wide as she lunged at him.
Roeg let out a muted chuckle as the twins wrestled. For the briefest moment, Ookum had Tsisa in a bear squeeze before she twisted and gripped him in a headlock. Yanking his head and spinning until they crashed to the ground.
On the ground, Tsisa was relentless. She was built for wrestling, as Roeg knew all too well. When he wrestled Tsisa, if she locked her arms, there was no hope of escape.
Tsisa’s grip tightened on Ookum. “Say it. Say it!”
Beneath Tsisa’s grip, Ookum’s grunts and groans were muffled. “Never. I’ve got you right where I want you!” he choked out.
Barely able to look up, Ookum made eye contact with Roeg in a plea for help. As much as he wriggled and squirmed, he couldn’t get loose. Tsisa’s grip on him was stone solid.
Raising his arms, Roeg stepped back, his palms facing the twins as they tumbled on the ground. “No way. I’ve been in that headlock before. You’re on your own, buddy!”
Tsisa flexed her arms around Ookum’s neck. “Say it!”
Ookum winced, then stopped struggling. He closed his eyes and whispered, “I’m as weak as an earflopp’r.”
Leveraging herself up and digging her feet into the ground, she hammered down on Ookum, never letting go of his neck. “I can’t hear you. What did you say?”
Ookum gave up and yelled, “Okay! I’m as weak as an earflopp’r!”
Tsisa gave one last squeeze and let him go. Ookum flopped to the ground, coughed, and took a long time to get up. When he did, his ears were as red as his hair.
The morning cookfire horn sounded, and as if by instinct, the three friends grinned at each other.
“Time to break the fast!” Ookum rubbed his belly.
“Beat’cha there!” Tsisa barreled down the foothill toward the cookfire.
Stumbling as Tsisa ran by, Ookum found his footing and raced behind her.
His heart thumping, Roeg felt a surge of excitement run through his legs. The thought of breaking the fast made his mouth water. He shot off, his long legs tearing at the ground, quickly passing Ookum.
Mimicking his sister, Ookum lowered his head and charged forward, but it was no use; he couldn’t catch Roeg or Tsisa. “Oh, come on! Make sure you save me some!”
Ahead, Tsisa’s thick legs kicked up chunks of dirt and debris, flinging them at Roeg. He squinted and ducked, as a large tuft of grass skimmed by his face. The worn path that led to the hut he shared with Unn was up ahead. Hoping to make it to the cookfire before Tsisa, he turned and ran down the shortcut.
“I’ve got you this time!” Roeg pushed his legs forward and sped ahead.
Tsisa looked over and scrunched her face. “Hey, no shortcuts!” Swinging her arms with fury, she drove her head down, as she broke through the outskirts of the village.
A thunderous bellow echoed in the valley. Roeg skidded to a stop and looked around. The shout came from his own hut. Roeg inched closer to the hut and peered in. Before he could see the outline of the yeller, he knew it could have come from only one person.
It was Krukk yelling, “You can’t leave!”
SEPHONEI
Sin
T
he walk from the ferry terminal to the temple opened Sephonei’s eyes to the wealth of Atlantea. Two gold-encased buildings pierced the sky on the center island: the Temple of the Order of the Sons and the King’s Palace. At the base of the structures rested an unnaturally flat mountain. The only entrance to the buildings was a long, marble staircase that wound up the side of the mountain. Central to the lengthy staircase, anchored on two giant, marble slabs, towered a golden, horned statue of a god with a trident in hand, vowing to strike down his enemies. Sephonei felt insignificant when she stood under the enormous statue.
After entering the main hall of the Temple, the trio of Crystal Hunters waited for the Temple guard to return. Whoever built the Order’s Temple had a taste for gold. Anchored to the floor by heavy golden stands laced with silver tridents were large, fluted marble pillars with golden swirling petals that connected to the ceiling. The tops of the columns reminded Sephonei of two leafed flowers that spiraled into themselves.
While Ku-aya paced in front of Sephonei, she wrung at her well-oiled glove. “So, you’re tellin’ me you only had two days trainin’ before they placed you on my crew?” When she stopped pacing, her toe tapped rhythmically on the hard slab floor.
Sephonei sat on a small marble bench. “Ai, that’s what I said. I didn’t have a choice, an’ they offered no more trainin’. I don’t want to be here as much as you don’t want me here.”
Ku-aya huffed and stalked away. Abil leaned against a large, marble pillar and absently plucked at the cord of his crossbow, only glancing at the pair occasionally. They had been waiting for over an hour. The High Guard had instructed them to wait until Sin was ready to receive them.
Ku-aya stalked back to Sephonei again. “You said ‘drafted,’ not ‘recruited.’ Explain.”
Sephonei cleared her throat. “Ai. An officer from the Order of the Sons came to my parents an’—”
“You told me that part. What else? Why you? What happened in the cavern room, an’ why do you have that damn lute?”
Sephonei stammered, “I don’t understand what happened. There were big blue bugs with giant mandibles, an’ when I play—”
“Come on, kid, spit it out,” Abil interjected.
Sephonei scrunched her nose and glared at him.
Ku-aya tapped her foot. “Before the guard returns, yaa?”
“In the room were giant beetles, like I said. The only other thing in the room was the pedestal with the lute on it.” Sephonei paused. “When I played it, the bugs were… well, they became bewitched.”
“Pffft,” Abil scoffed. He went back to plucking his crossbow. The metallic cord twanged with each stroke, echoing in the hall.
Ku-aya paid no attention to Abil. “What do you mean ‘bewitched’? They liked your music? Your talent? What?”
Sephonei straightened and felt heat radiating from her cheeks. Her eyes inched down as her fingers toyed with the pink ribbon at the end of her braid.
Ku-aya eyed Sephonei’s hands. “Stop fistlin’ with your ribbon, an’ get to the point.”
She stopped fidgeting. “They were in a trance, the whole swarm. I played the lute an’ they got lost in the music. I opened my eyes, an’ the wings were quiet. Their eyes glazed over an’ their—”
A dim glow sparked and lit up around Ku-aya. Sephonei rubbed her eyes and shook her head. She leaned closer and extended her hand to touch it.
Ku-aya swatted her hand away. “What are you doin’? You all right, or did you catch a bug? What’cha reachin’ over here for?”
Sephonei stumbled back. “Ai… I’m… it’s… there’s somethin’… I’m not sure…”
A saturated layer of bright green clung to Ku-aya’s body; surrounding the inner layer was a less saturated layer of changing color. Yellows and blues crashed against one another while little bubbles popped and fizzled away. The field of color was semi-transparent, and the colors seemed to dance.
A loud rap of metal on marble rang throughout the temple.
Sephonei looked up and saw the High Guard had returned.
“The High Priest will receive you now,” the High Guard instructed.
Sephonei stood and looked to Ku-aya for direction. Ku-aya dusted off her coat, then motioned for Abil and Sephonei to follow.
Ku-aya glanced back at Sephonei. “I want to hear the rest of your story when we get out of here, yaa?”
Sephonei nodded without looking Ku-aya in the eye—she kept stealing gla
nces at the dancing color field around her leader.
They walked through a long hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling frescoes. The murals told a story of wealth, power, and glory. Sephonei lagged as Abil and Ku-aya kept pace with the guards hastened gait. The iconography of the frescoes and the vibrancy of the paint on the limestone plaster sang to Sephonei. Sephonei scrutinized the details. The frescoes would make a good study material for her sketchbook—she especially liked the mystical creatures painted on the walls.
The tap, tap, tap of the High Guard’s large trident hitting the slab floor echoed through the hall.
Large, arched windows lined the marble walls of the hallway. Each one was framed with two fluted pillars and ornate gold detailing. Outside the windows, rows of olive groves circled the Citadel—Ku-aya had explained that was the name of the flat-topped mountain.
“Hey, keep up, kid! It’s your fault we’re here. The least you could do is be the first in line for the floggin’!” Abil called back as his eye scope caught a stray glint of light from the window and blinded Sephonei.
She realized she had slowed and couldn’t see the group anymore. She quickened her pace but stole a couple more glances at the frescoes. A horned god was central to every mural; he struck down hordes of mainlanders and mystical creatures with his three-pronged trident. One fresco caught her eye.
A central domed ceiling in the hall of frescoes showcased large, mystical creatures being cast from Atlantean shores. Perytons and other large hybrids fled from the god. Sephonei would love to sketch a mystical creature up close! The mystical creatures she had read about in the scrolls did not venture to Atlantea any longer.
She turned the corner and saw a large set of black, stone double doors. Gold framed the door and laced the interior with intricate circular patterns. Large, ornate golden rings were stamped on each door. The High Guard grabbed a large, marble knocker and rapped it three times.
Sephonei looked to Ku-aya, who was standing by Abil. She still wrung at her glove. Ku-aya’s nervous energy poured over onto Sephonei, and she felt her chest tighten.
“Enter,” boomed a deep voice.
Sephonei entered the chamber. A haze of incense flooded her senses as swirls of smoke spiraled to the ceiling. An aftertaste of pine sat on her tongue. Incense-filled stone bowls rested on stout posts lining the exterior walls. Sandalwood, Sephonei noted. Sometimes, her parents imported sandalwood from the mainland. None of it stayed in the Atlantean commons; it was shipped to the center island, and now Sephonei knew why. Sometimes her parents kept small vials of the liquid for themselves. The earthy fragrance calmed her and reminded her of home.
Standing in the center of the oval room was the High Priest, Sin. Under his silk bullhorn headdress was a strong, chiseled face with a long sharp nose. Sephonei’s cheeks flushed, and her heart raced—she wasn’t sure why. Sin was broad and muscular. He wore gold-laced white robes that hung to the floor. His hands were steepled, and he emanated power through his calm gaze. The three-ringed, golden imprint that had lined the doors was also stitched into his robes.
The High Guard stamped his trident on the floor, bowed to Sin, and declared, “I present the Crystal Hunters, Archmagus.” The guard then marched out of the chamber, shutting the heavy double doors behind him. A pang of claustrophobia gripped Sephonei. Never in her life had she been in the presence of someone so powerful, and she breathed heavily. She tried to calm herself, but it didn’t help. She closed her eyes and inhaled the comforting scent of sandalwood.
Sin stood static and silent.
Ku-aya addressed the High Priest, stamping her foot to the ground and saluting. “Archmagus.”
Sin’s eyes meandered from Ku-aya to Sephonei. His gaze stung her. Sephonei lowered her eyes and fidgeted. She stole a glance at him, and his gaze still rested on her. Her heart skipped a beat.
Ku-aya broke the silence. “We couldn’t find the eternal stone. There was an accident.”
Sephonei couldn’t make eye contact with Sin. She looked to Ku-aya, who stood statue-like, her back straight and her eyes hard. Ku-aya met Sin’s gaze head-on with her chin held high. Sephonei’s breath released when Sin’s focus shifted to Ku-aya. Abil stood between Sephonei and Ku-aya, casually teetering from his heels to the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. Sephonei felt a knot of tension grow stronger in her chest with every sway.
Sin’s voice was calm and low. His relentless gaze pierced them. “What happened?”
Sephonei tilted her head at the sound of Sin’s accent—or lack of accent. He spoke slowly and deliberately, enunciating every syllable, and there was no mistake—he sounded highborn without the lilt of the common tongue.
Ku-aya methodically wrung her glove behind her back. Sephonei saw yellow specks and red lines explode from Ku-aya’s core color field then retract, shivering as they fell. Sephonei rubbed at her eyes. What was happening?
Ku-aya’s chin never fell. “We…” She glanced at Sephonei. “The cavern collapsed before we could secure the eternal stone. We couldn’t retrieve it.”
Abil looked to Sephonei and sneered. He turned to Sin and made an exaggerated coughing sound. “It was the kid—the li’l fistler. She grabbed a useless lute instead of the stone. She almost died like a ninnyhammer.”
Sephonei froze. Ku-aya huffed and shot a hard stare at Abil. His eyes remained on Sin.
Sin turned and clasped his hands behind his back, stalking to the high-arched window at the far end of his chambers. “Unfortunate.”
Ku-aya pierced Abil with her gaze and mouthed curses at him. Her color field of green and yellow flared and morphed to orange and red sparks.
A briny mist blew in from the window, washing away the scent of sandalwood. The gust swirled Sin’s robes. “Your sole purpose as Crystal Hunters is to retrieve the eternal stones. You are the right hand of the Order of the Sons. Do you understand?”
Ku-aya stood tall. “Ai.”
Sin gazed out the window. Sephonei’s anxiety rose as the bull-horned silhouette stood motionless. She fiddled with her pink ribbon again. A muted color field appeared around Sin—if a flat, tonal gray could be called a color. Sephonei’s eye shifted to Abil, who was emanating a similar dull tone of gray. Sephonei blinked and strained her eyes, but the fields of color wouldn’t disappear.
Sin swiveled and strode to the Crystal Hunters, his hands still behind his back. “I’ve hand-selected you two for different reasons.” He paused. “Ku-aya, I chose you for your leadership. Abil, for your keen sight and obedience.”
He stalked to Sephonei. She feared he wouldn’t stop and would move right through her. He stopped mere inches from her, towering over her. He looked down and squinted his eyes.
Sephonei stepped back but didn’t lower her eyes from the High Priest. The smell of the sea was drowned out by the smell of smoke. Even the trace of sandalwood vanished. The scent wasn’t bad; if it was less saturated, it might even be nice. But like everything about Sin, it was overpowering.
Sin stood staring for a long time. “Young Sephonei. Well, you seem to be here by default. You survived the cavern, when all other recruits died. That must count for something.”
Sephonei struggled to catch her breath; she didn’t raise her eyes.
Sin took a long breath and turned. “Hmmm.”
A large, wooden table anchored to the ground was Sin’s next target. He strode to it. On the table was an assortment of glass vials and jars, copper pipes, and other unrecognizable trinkets. Some jars steamed, while others were encased in frost. The centerpiece of the table was a large, golden chalice imprinted with the three-ringed design. Whatever was in it bubbled and sputtered.
It reminded Sephonei of an alchemy set she once saw. An exotic trader came to Atlantea and had bartered with her parents for some spices. In return, he gave them vials and jars that looked similar to the trinkets on Sin’s table. The trader said they were for mixing elements to create elixirs.
As Sin mixed va
rious liquids into the chalice he said, “My grandfather, Belshazzar, founded the Order of the Sons and discovered the power of the eternal stones. He categorized them and wrote volumes on the stones’ abilities. He concluded that there were four tiers of eternal stones: rudimentary, tertiary, secondary, and the most powerful of all, the primary stones.” The mixture in the chalice churned and roiled. Tiny purple explosions snapped out and fizzled away. “He was the first High Priest of Atlantea. He could only secure the rudimentary and tertiary stones. The higher stones evaded his pursuits.” Sin looked up. A dark haze rose from the chalice, then purple sparks shot out and popped when they reached their pinnacle.
Sin waited for the sparks to fizzle out. “My father, Anos, the second High Priest, pursued further. He found a secondary chronostone. He used his knowledge to extract even more power from the stones. The advancements of my lineage forever changed your lives. My lineage, the founders of the Order of the Sons, is why your lives are so comfortable. My father devised wards that encircle Atlantea, securing our future. He banished the barbaric mystical creatures from our shores. He created remote photonic energy that powers the gears of our ships, allowing trade and crusades. It has extended our lives. Well, my life…” Sin paused as if to gloat. “The mech you use to contain the stones is also an advance due to my lineage. Do you think all this is free?”
Ku-aya steeled herself. “No, Archmagus.”
Sin broke his gaze from the chalice then waltzed toward Ku-aya, stopping only inches from her face. “Thirteen years ago, a Crystal Hunter—my Crystal Hunter—betrayed me. She was the first to collect a primary eternal stone—the Firestone. This stone was of great importance to me, to Atlantea. She stole it and fled to the mainland. Her husband, the King’s own general, helped her. What do you think happened to them?”
Firestone Page 3
