Old Man on the Sea (The Lost Keepers Book 6)
Page 7
Sean was a whole different story, however. His guardian training kicked in, and he bowed up—chest out, hands clenched into fists, chin held high—giving Driskell the most intimidating look he could muster. “You’ve got some explaining to do, old man.” His voice came out like a growl.
Driskell was unfazed. Once his keys were secured back in his pocket, he approached me and placed his hands on my shoulders. I clutched the tablet even tighter, feeling its power become one with my own. I didn’t fear Driskell. It was hard to explain, but there was a new confidence ignited within me. I feared nothing.
With a gentle squeeze on my shoulders, Driskell spoke. “Deliverer. I’ve been waiting for this day. I knew you would come.”
“Why do you believe that I am the Deliverer?”
“Because you are alive. The curse did not strike you dead. The earth wants you to know of the prophecy, and you will know.”
“And my friends?”
“The Deliverer’s power does not answer to the laws of the Keepers’ world. You wanted your friends to live, and they did.” He cut his eyes back over to Tate. “Even the prince,” he mumbled, bitterly.
“Please, Driskell. Tell me everything you know.”
“Follow me. My notes are stored in the lighthouse.”
We turned toward a primitive doorway carved into the stone beyond the prison cell. It was opposite the window wall, and I suspected it led deeper into the center of the island. This was how he’d stayed hidden from mortals for so many years. He lived within the island rather than on top of it.
Tate fought against his restraints, grunting through the gag to get my attention. We couldn’t just leave him there, but the list of people who didn’t trust him was growing longer by the minute. “If I let you free, will you promise not to use your powers on anyone here on the island?”
Tate nodded, and I turned to Dom. She stared thoughtfully at him, head slightly inclined as she studied his inner thoughts. Finally, with a small frown, she turned to me. “He’s telling the truth. He will not use his powers here, as much as he hates to hold them back.”
His brows furrowed, annoyed and probably feeling a little violated at having Dom root around in his mind. I could relate. I stepped toward him, and my skin responded immediately to the proximity. Energy buzzed along my arms, urging me to reach out and touch him.
Tate’s eyes met mine, his breathing faster. He felt it too. Ignoring the urge, I settled on the ropes binding his legs, and easily snapped them apart with some superhuman strength I’d never before possessed. I could get used to this. I broke the bind tying his torso to the chair next, but I left the gag and his wrists secured behind his back.
“I want to trust you,” I whispered so that only he could hear it. “But I just—” The explanation caught in my throat. I wasn’t sure how to finish. A clap of thunder rattled the windows, taking the pressure off of me.
“Come,” Driskell said. “The curse is growing angry.”
We followed him into a narrow stone passageway illuminated only by the flickering candle in the lantern he carried. Devon had one arm thrown over Sean’s shoulder, and Sean half-carried, half-dragged his friend’s weak body along.
Driskell mumbled more as we followed him through the winding tunnel. It was a constant incline drawing us ever upward—up to the top of the island, where the white lighthouse stood like a beacon in the night. Though I couldn’t quite make out his words—they may have been German or Bavarian—there was a strong undertone of courage. He was nervous for sure, but Driskell fought through his fear to do what he felt was right.
“We won’t let anything happen to you.” I tried to sound braver than I felt.
“What do you mean?” he asked over his shoulder.
“You mentioned a curse surrounding the prophecy. I assume it affects you as well. But if it’s true that my powers somehow counteract those of the Keepers and their curse, I want you to know that you are safe. I won’t let them hurt you.”
Driskell laughed the same maniacal chortle from before. “It is my destiny.” He pushed a large flat rock up over his head and shifted it to one side. Light immediately filled the dingy stone tunnel we huddled in, flooding down from the artificially illuminated lighthouse above us.
We climbed out, one by one. I stood behind Tate, steadying him as he ascended the ladder without any hands. My hands felt hot on his lower back, and that invisible force pushiing us together didn’t want me to pull away when he reached the room above. But this was no time to fantasize about embracing Tate. We were on the precipice of something great, and everyone knew it. Finally, I emerged from the tunnel and gathered together with the others in a small room lined with shelves.
“Would you care for tea?”
“No thank you,” Dom said at the same time Gayla exclaimed, “yes!”
“Me too.” Driskell smiled at Gayla, then set off to the small kitchen to fill a kettle and bring the water to a boil. The storm raged on outside as he went about his work, with lightning flashes and booms of thunder filling the room every few minutes.
I examined the books and files on the shelves as he worked, but most were written in languages I was unfamiliar with. After a short time, Driskell returned with hot cups of tea for everyone but Tate. Maybe it was a slight against him, but Tate wouldn’t be able to enjoy it with the gag in his mouth anyway. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with him or else I’d probably crack from the guilt and set him free.
“So,” Driskell said, settling into a seat at a small table near the kitchen area. “What do you know about the prophecy?”
“Nothing,” I admitted. “Tate is the only one of us who had even heard of it before. Would you like him to share what he knows?”
“No.” Driskell scoffed. “He is Agarthian royalty, yes?”
Tate hung his head as we confirmed it.
“Then he should not be here at all! The royalty is to blame for this curse on our world! They destroyed the prophecy. They do not want it to come to fruition. But it must. You must Deliver us from their evil.” The old man trembled, revealing his desperation.
Tate lifted his gaze back to mine, his eyes wide and glistening. They weren’t filled with guilt or hatred. He looked very much like a victim rather than a villain. I couldn’t believe that Tate had anything to do with the evil Driskell spoke of—royalty or not.
“He will kill you now that he knows what you are,” Driskell continued. “That is his destiny.”
“No,” Dom said. “He may not be entirely forthcoming, but he doesn’t want Everly dead. I can see that clearly.”
Tate’s eyes glimmered in the light, the golden flecks calling out to me on some deeper level. And I couldn’t resist any longer. With a new swiftness, I broke the binding on his wrists and removed his gag, praying that I wouldn’t soon come to regret it.
“I will never kill you.” The words spilled from his mouth in a hurry, as though he expected me to gag him again at any moment. “Never. You have my word. I will do whatever it takes to protect you for as long as I live. This is my oath, through the sky, the sea, and the earth on which we stand.”
A collective gasp filled the room. “Well there you have it,” Gayla said, calmly sipping her tea. “The hunter has sworn himself to you. If he kills you now, he’ll die on the spot.” She put a hand on her chest and looked up to the sky.
“Is that true?” My voice was shakier than I would have preferred.
Tate nodded. “But Dom is right. There’s something I haven’t mentioned.”
Driskell snorted and took a long drink from his own mug.
“My mission to hunt you did not come from my own Agarthian superiors—not directly anyway. It was an order from a higher power. You see, there is a group of elite Keepers across the races, the highest ranks within the royal courts. And they work together for the betterment of the earth. The order to extract your soul came directly from them. From Rossel and the Olympian king, specifically.”
“Why?”
My chest cracked. It was true then, what Rasputin said. Tate only wanted power. He only wanted the Agarthian throne. And after he got it, what would become of me?
“So what now? Are you still after the crown?”
“No.” Tate shook his head emphatically. “Now there is something bigger to work toward. I don’t have to save my kingdom by sacrificing myself for the Agarthian throne. I can save it by helping you destroy it.”
CHAPTER 13
Tate’s words hung heavily in the air for some time. I couldn’t be certain that what he said was true. How could someone—a prince no less—be so enthusiastic about destroying his own kingdom? It didn’t make sense. But at least I didn’t have to worry about him trying to kill me now that he’d given the oath.
“Well,” I said after a minute. “Then I suppose we need to learn as much as we can about this prophecy.”
Driskell grunted his approval and downed the rest of his tea. He set his cup on the table, steepled his fingers, and inhaled a deep breath. I knew then there was much more to this prophecy than I could have imagined.
“There have always been rumors,” he began. “Ever since I was a child. Stories of our kind—how we began, our purpose on the earth, and how we would end. Over time, it became more like a fairytale than actual history. But I could never forget those stories from my youth. They struck a chord in me, and I dedicated my life to discovering more about the secrets of our ancestry.
“At university, I specialized in lost and forgotten languages. My partner and I traveled across the globe, reviewing ancient artifacts and deciphering their meanings for museums and private collections. But a little over a century ago, we found something truly incredible. A stone tablet.”
His eyes cut briefly to the object I clutched in my arms, and I found myself squeezing it tighter. He watched me with wonder, his aqua blue eyes twinkling with respect, framed by his wild mane of orange hair. But there was one tuft of curls that didn’t blend in with the rest of his fiery head of hair. One white swirl of curls hung low over his brow. Though he was older now, and certainly aged by the stress of his situation, there was no denying who this man was. I’d seen him before, in a slideshow on my first day at Columbia.
“You worked with Professor Brossard, didn’t you?”
Driskell nodded sadly. “Indeed.”
The professor had lied to me. How many people were in on this? How many people knew my true identity?
“The tablet we found was but a fraction of the whole. We knew what it said, but it made no sense. Not without the other pieces. I paused all of my other projects, devoting everything I had to this one stone tablet.”
“Why?” I asked. “Why this one?”
“Because I knew it was special. I did not understand the greater context, but there was one word that revealed enough for me to know that the world would never be the same.”
I looked down at the object in my arms, and I could practically feel it pulsing along with my heart—faster as the power of the object became more and more tangible. “What is it?” My voice was a whisper. “What does it say?”
Driskell held out his hand, and I gently laid my treasure on his palm. He grinned, as though he were seeing the face of a long lost friend. “It says: The daughter of… together with… ignites her… centennial… shall form a… the powers… The Deliverer.” He pointed to the different symbols as he read their meanings aloud.
My stomach sank. “That means nothing to me.”
Driskell chuckled. “It means nothing to anyone. But it mentions The Deliverer, and that was enough for me to give it further exploration. I was so close to cracking the code. Too close. The elites took notice of my efforts. You see, they’ve known about the prophecy since the dawn of time. It was carved into stone by the prophets of the first century. The royalty did not like what they saw. They did not want to hear of their demise, and they believed that in destroying the prophecy, they could destroy the truth behind it, as well.
“But the prophecy could not be destroyed, as you have noticed. The greatest damage they could achieve was breaking the tablet into four pieces. Each kingdom took one quarter of the stone to hide within their territories, and the fourth was cast deep into the depths of the earth—buried beneath the arctic where neither man nor Keeper would ever dare to locate it.
“But by some miracle, it washed upon the shores of Greenland a little over one hundred years ago. It was found by a mortal, who called upon my partner and I to inspect it. I discovered what it was through ancient writings. Diaries and fictional accounts provided more information, and I made it my personal mission to learn whatever I could about this Deliverer. As the world grew more evil each year, I saw the need for you to destroy the status quo and give us the reset we all so desperately need.
“When the elites realized what I was trying to achieve, they tried again to destroy the object you hold now, but it was not possible. It could not be destroyed, and it could not be cursed. So they cursed me instead, and banished me here to this island, which is also cursed. They created a fictional narrative—convincing Keepers across the world that any mention of the tablet or the prophecy would curse them as well.
“They believe I lost my mind.” He chuckled. “And perhaps I have. But I know that you are real, and I know that you have the power to change the world.”
The storm roared outside, and a particularly loud crack of thunder made me jump in my seat. Driskell looked nervously toward the lighthouse windows. “I’ve said too much. The island will kill me now. It is my destiny.”
“It’s not,” I argued. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Tell me, Driskell. What do I do now? How do I change the world?”
He took my hand in his and gave it a firm squeeze. “You must find the other pieces of the tablet. You must travel to each of the three kingdoms to restore it and use its power to accomplish the task before you.”
“I can help,” Tate said. “I can get us into the Agarthian palace.”
I wanted to trust him, but common sense won out again. “Maybe we should start with Atlantis. That’s the one place I should be welcomed.”
Driskell took another deep breath and looked up to the sky. “It is time.” He squeezed my hand again. “I wish you well.”
The entire lighthouse reverberated with a jolt of electricity, followed by a crack of thunder so loud it made my bones ache. A moment later I became aware of smoke and Tate pulling on my hand. “The lighthouse is burning! We’ve got to get out.”
He pulled me through the doors and out onto the island. Darkness covered the earth like a blanket—a heavy, wet blanket that threatened to snuff out any life that dared to stand up against it. The storm raged harder than ever, wind whipping the raindrops against my cheeks like stones.
We’d made it about twenty paces away from the building before we turned to stare in awe. The lighthouse tower burned, blazing brightly even through the torrential downpour.
Waves rose from the ocean surrounding us, like angry giants waking from a slumber. They grew taller and taller—an army of great walls moving toward the island.
“The curse is here for me,” Driskell said. “I pray it won’t get us all.”
“It won’t. I will keep you safe. All of you.” I turned to look at my friends one at a time, allowing my eyes to linger on each of theirs long enough for them to understand just how serious I was. “I swear it as the Deliverer—as my oath—through the sky, the sea, and the earth on which we stand.” I repeated the words Tate had uttered just minutes earlier, and felt a lock snap taut in my chest as some greater power made my words a reality.
The largest of the waves was nearing the island, growing larger with every passing second and I knew my words wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t stopping. The curse was going to wipe us all away into the depths of the ocean. I’d survive, and the other Atlanteans, per
haps, but I would not allow it to kill my friends. We’d come too far to be swept away by some water.
Anger boiled red hot inside me, and I lifted my arms as though I might block the water from reaching us. A guttural yell escaped my throat, originating from deep in my belly and sounding like something from another creature in another world. I couldn’t explain where it came from if I tried, but it did the trick. The wave split into two, avoiding my outstretched arms and my deathlike war cry. It crashed to the earth extinguishing the flames of the lighthouse and falling back into the ocean.
“Enough!” I yelled again. Spinning around with my arms still outstretched above my head. I stared down the storm, scolding it like a naughty child, and to my amazement, it cowered at my voice. The rain slowed, the wind stilled, and after another minute, all was quiet.
I turned to find my friends’ open mouthed stares. They were shocked—all of them except Driskell. He fell to his knees once more, bowing to me. “What are you doing? Get up, the storm is over.”
Devon was next.
“Guys, please don’t do this.”
Then went Dom, Sean, and Gayla.
“Tate. Thank you. Please talk some sense into them. Tell them to get up. This is not necessary.”
He shook his head. The corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly—not with derision, but more like a proud parent might regard a child on stage, accepting a medal. Then he dropped, his knees splashing into the mud, and lowered his face to the ground.
I dropped as well, placing myself squarely on their level and wiping the tears stinging at my eyes. The weight of everything I’d learned squeezed my chest, and I felt so alone and ill-prepared for whatever lay ahead. “Please,” I said softly. “Raise your heads. I need you all beside me, not below me. If we’re going to change the world, it’s going to take all of us.”