The Promise, Page 3

  My brain was bursting with questions. Of course we knew about the Telion and the rift . . . but these Loculi were simply astounding. I could tell which was which, but for the Loculus of Invisibility. It was a perfect sphere of swirling colorful gas with no membrane discernible to the eye.

  “As energy emerges from the rift,” Mother said, “much of it is captured by the Heptakiklos, where it passes from Loculus to Loculus. What you see now is perfect equilibrium—all seven Loculi together in balance, mere vessels for the awesome magic. Ah, but once a Loculus is removed, it all changes. The removed Loculus instantly takes on one specific component of the Telion—just one set of particular properties. The Loculus of Invisibility disappears. The Loculus of Flight—well, you get the idea. These are all properties with a purpose—to give the bearer magical qualities so he or she can better protect the Loculi!”

  “But . . . what about the b-balance?” I said. “If one Loculus is removed, what happens to the Atlantean energy?”

  “It becomes like a many-headed hydra that has lost one of its heads,” Father said with a chuckle. “It must compensate. The other Loculi, I suppose, absorb the extra energy.”

  “And there is no p-price to pay for this instability?” I said. “For stealing away two Loculi to impress foreign visitors?”

  Massarym yawned. “Envy is so unbecoming in a future king.”

  “There are many things we do not know.” Mother spoke up. “But, my beloved family, I have labored long and hard on this. These Loculi exist to protect our future. We will be able to—”

  Massarym burped. Eyes glued to the shimmering orbs, he was fidgeting in his place, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, not listening to a word Mother was saying.

  “Massarym!” she snapped.

  He blinked as if just discovering she was in the room. “Oh. Yes. Bravo, Mother.”

  “May I ask a question?” I said, ignoring my brother. “Why not l-l-leave the rift alone? Have we ever needed these Loculi?”

  “They’re fun,” Massarym piped up.

  “In a world of perfect harmony, we would not need Loculi,” Mother said. “A world in which nations support other nations, live side by side, and leave well enough alone. Having the sea on all sides has protected us from invasion, from snooping. But now men have learned to navigate and build better ships, and water is no longer a barrier. This means we are now vulnerable.”

  “From whom?” I asked. I had never seen any fighting, only read stories of the great wars in Athens and Egypt. “Nobody has ever made an at-t-ttempt at our sea walls.”

  “Under cover of night, our guards have fended off some rather weak attacks.” Mother waved her hand as if to banish our fears, carving a path through the thick mist. It eddied in swirls, then filled in that path like water. “Barbarians. Gauls. Celts. Small raiding parties. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  “M-M-Mass, did you know about this?” I said.

  Massarym raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “N-N-Nope.”

  I drew my hand to smack him, and he darted away.

  Father’s mouth was set in a hard line, staring out over Mother’s shoulder. “Nor I,” he said dryly.

  “Not Father either?” I blurted out. “Have you a secret army? Why didn’t you tell us? Are we not also p-p-protectors of this nation? Shouldn’t I know these things if one day I’m going to be k-k—” I stopped myself and looked over at Massarym. He doesn’t love to be reminded that he’s second in line to the throne.

  “I thought it best to keep these small diversions to myself and the army, to avoid undue panic,” Mother said. “My own energies have been consumed with my science—with developing the Loculi. Your father—well, he has a different idea. He believes he can use the Loculus of Strength to defend the country if necessary. A rather doomed strategy, I would think—one man against legions. Which is why I kept news of these attacks from him too.”

  She gave Father a withering look. He coughed, looked away, and did not answer. The distant thunder of the waterfall echoed throughout in the great bowl created by the ridge.

  “If more attempts are made on our borders you will all be notified,” Mother continued. “But these Loculi are designed to ensure that this will not happen. Why do you think the Akkadians traveled all the way from Mesopotamia to meet us, a journey that surely took months?”

  “Arishti-Aya heard of my smoldering good looks,” Massarym said.

  Mother’s grave expression broke into a smile. “Perhaps. But equally likely is that our land has become legend. Scholars write of us, and Atlanteans who have made the crossing to the mainland are treated like geniuses and celebrities. They call our Telion the ‘Atlantean Force.’ The Akkadians certainly were hoping to discover something of our secret when they came calling. And we allowed them to, did we not?”

  “We did,” Massarym said.

  “You did,” I retorted.

  “Dear Qalani,” Father interrupted. “No disrespect intended, but is revealing our secret the wisest choice? Why not keep the Telion a bit of a mystery? Why even let these rather festive little spheres out of this hiding place?”

  “Father’s right,” I said. “You have c-created something that can be s-stolen, Mother! A land with a big-enough army can raid these things and take them for their own—”

  “They can’t, because they don’t have our royal blood!” Massarym said.

  “Wh-which gives them a reason to t-try to take our blood, too!” I said.

  My words hung in the sulphuric air. No one had thought of this.

  “Karai, please . . .” Mother said, her lip curled with disgust.

  “Nonsense, Karai—if we are attacked or taken over, we will fly away—fffft!—and take these powers with us,” Massarym said, knifing his hand through the mist like a bird taking off. “Atlantis can be reborn anywhere, O Future King. Or would you prefer that we were paupers in a distant land, eating mice and forever insisting we were royalty in a past life?”

  “If we were attacked, you would be the first to run away,” I said.

  “Oh?” Massarym replied, puffing out his chest. “Try me.”

  “Boys . . .” Mother said with a warning tone.

  We all stood there in silence for a moment. As always, Diary, I had so much more to say, but I felt tongue-tied. What Mother and Massarym had said made a certain sense, but I couldn’t stop myself from feeling it was all wrong.

  That the Loculi, by their very existence, were dangerous.

  That capturing the Telion, rather than allowing it to flow as nature intended, was harmful.

  That separating the Loculi, for any reason, was a disruption in the strength and integration of the energy.

  That this disruption could weaken this glorious gift that the earth has given us.

  But did I say these things, Diary? You know me well. OF COURSE NOT.

  All that came out of my well-educated mouth was, “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Brilliant.

  “You are rightfully concerned, Karai,” Mother said. “The Telion has massive power and comes from the very center of the earth. And we do not understand everything about it. So we must take precautions.” She aimed a frown at Massarym. “No borrowing the Loculi for party games, understood?”

  Massarym scowled.

  Mother slipped her hand into Father’s, and I could see the tension ebb from his face. “And as for your father’s excellent point about theft, this leads to my next request.” She snapped her focus to me. “The ridge creates an extraordinary echo, Karai. I heard your little confession regarding your . . . experiments.”

  “I—I—” My face was heating up.

  “Do not be embarrassed, I suspected as much,” Mother said. “How else could you have you accomplished your feat with the Akkadians? Very impressive, too, that you have altered the characteristics of vizzeets and vromaskis. But playing games with the blood of human life can be extremely dangerous.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she placed her
index finger over it gently.

  “However,” she said, “at the moment I think we need something extremely dangerous—to protect the Loculi. A creature, perhaps. One that on its own is fearsome . . . but perhaps could be made unstoppable. A fierce, predatory creature . . .”

  These words were like music to me. I felt a grin stretch across my face. “Like maybe . . . a g-g-griffin?”

  Massarym arched his eyebrows, his dark eyes wide as moonfruit. “Oh dear gods, playing with griffins?” he said. “Big brother will never survive.”

  “Oh?” I replied. “Try me.”

  Thursday afternoon

  DIARY, AM I crazy?

  I thought we left the Great Onyx Circle with an agreement. I concluded we would proceed lightly with the Loculi. We would not remove them from the Heptakiklos for frivolous reasons.

  Mother, it turns out, had concluded something different.

  She thought it would be a lovely idea to say good-bye to the Akkadians with another exhibition at the Parade Grounds—this one with all the Loculi. “Not only for the Akkadians,” she said, “but also for our own people.” Putting all the cards on the table, she said, would impress, delight, and inspire.

  While I stood there spluttering and spitting like a teapot, she told me my hair had grown long and shaggy in the last few months while I’ve been preoccupied in the laboratory. So in preparation for the display, I was forced to wait in my chambers for Aram, the barber.

  It is at times like these that I wish I were king. I would make sure that everyone’s actions made sense. And no one would ever need a haircut.

  Aram’s hair is even bushier and more unkempt than mine, but he’s a wizard with the scissors. He also likes to talk.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, raising one of his bushy black eyebrows as he placed a protective cape over my tunic.

  “Sorry, j-j-just haven’t had t-t-time—” I began.

  “No, not that. You’re scratching your neck like a dog.”

  “I am?” I said.

  “Ugh, I need to check you for lice, don’t I?” Aram rolled up his sleeves, pulled a pair of gloves from his pack, grabbed my shoulders, and wrenched my neck to one side. “I don’t care how your hair looks, Your Highness, but if you’re going to let it get like this and not keep it clean, this kind of thing is bound to happen. How long has it been itching?”

  Was I scratching? Honestly, I hadn’t really noticed—but, yes, now that he had mentioned it14 . . . “A few weeks, I guess . . .” I began. “Right after I—”

  Right after I subjected myself to my own experiments.

  I considered telling the truth but thought better of confiding in Aram the Blabbermouth. “R-right after I spent time with the a-an—”

  “Animal trainers, of course,” Aram said with a knowing nod. “Must be lice.”

  His fingers picked through my hair, lifting it off my scalp. His shears began to snip away, and chunks of blond fluff fell by my feet. Aram muttered to himself as he worked. “Hmm, this is interesting. No creepy crawlies that I can see. Dry scalp, maybe.”

  It felt good to lose the hair. My head felt lighter. All of a sudden Aram’s hands stopped, holding my hair up and away from the back of my head. “Well, by the griffin’s gizzards, would you look at this.”

  He handed me a small mirror. Looking into it, I saw the higgledy-piggledy thatch of half-cut hair, as if a vizzeet had cut it with scissors dipped in spit. “Um, Aram, I look like a human haystack. Maybe keep going?”

  “Just look here.” He grabbed the handle of the mirror and angled it so I could see behind my head, where he was holding another mirror.

  In the center of a cleanly cut area at the rear of my skull, my hair was strangely discolored. There were two distinct white streaks, starting near the base of my head and meeting in a point at the top.

  It looked like this: Λ

  “Odd,” Aram said, tossing the mirror to the side and resuming my haircut.

  Odd, yes, Diary. But it sent a chill down my spine.

  Here I must confess to you one memorable moment during a research session:

  I imagined, during the wee hours that morning, a new future filled with those who would benefit from my work. I saw young people developing powers from the very talents they were born with. Astonishing powers. But in this age of ocean travel and potential conquest, I fretted that they would scatter around the world. Soon generations would not know one another, lost to their origins, far from the Atlantean shores. Could they ever learn about each other? How would they unite?

  This was deeply on my mind, as the potions roiled and the exact titrations continued. It was all I could think about until a flash of consuming light blinded me and threw me to the wall. In a moment I felt as if the experiment were both inside and outside me at the same time. I saw tiny flecks of matter swimming, rearranging into new forms. As my mind cleared, I found myself on the floor.

  Exhausted and exhilarated, I fell asleep right there. As I drifted off, I pictured these lost young people again—but now in my dream they were discovering that they were not alone. I saw a leader. I saw followers. They rose, soaring above the mundane world on their own plane of existence. They were in formation, like a flock of majestic birds! The image was clear as day in this magnificent dream.

  Thursday evening

  THE SUN IS high with barely a cloud in the sky. The stands are full of people; the weather is perfect for a sporting event. Today is not merely for invited guests. All Atlantis has been asked to come, and people occupy every seat, every entrance, and the tops of every fence. As you know, Diary, I’ve never been comfortable in the role of entertainer. It has always been much easier to sit in the royal booth and watch hulking athletes compete. So here I am, scribbling in this journal in the tunnels underneath the Parade Grounds, with the Loculus of Flight in a pack at my feet.

  I haven’t tried it yet. I’m a little bit nervous. But Mother, sensing my envy of Massarym, has granted me the opportunity. “I have been thinking,” she told me, “and I agree with you that the people should see their future king in a position of strength. On this occasion, you shall demonstrate the Loculus.”

  Given the circumstances, I could not say no. But I would so rather be in my lab or reading a book. What if I fall?

  Diary, I am impossibly nervous.

  On the other hand, it is flying! How bad can it be?

  Massarym is here with me in the corridor. He, of course, upon hearing of Mother’s decision, insisted upon having a role in the demonstration, which now will include several of the Loculi. I am appalled by this, Diary. I believe that removing so many Loculi will have an effect on the Telion, but no one seems to share my concern.

  Ah well. The sun is spilling down through the archway. I can hear the crowd. IF MASSARYM LOOKS OVER MY SHOULDER, I WILL USE SECRET SCIENCE TO GIVE HIM THREE NOSES.

  By the sun god Helios, Karai smells three times worse than ever!!

  My Diary, sullied and greased by the hand of boorish Massarym! Do not catch fire or disintegrate, Diary, I need you!

  Later Thursday evening

  IT IS FINISHED.

  Thank you for being here, Diary, to record this day.

  My hands are still shaking. I have to admit, it was a bit of fun. Massarym insisted I was lucky to be the one who got the Loculus of Flight. I had convinced myself I would lose control and be dashed upon the rocks, leaving Massarym to be king. “You,” I told him gloomily, “are the lucky one!”

  Once I finally steeled my courage (and my bladder), I ducked out of the tunnel onto the grassy expanse of the Parade Ground.

  And I froze.

  The whole stadium seemed to spin—people everywhere I looked. The noise of the crowd boxed my ears. But it wasn’t all cheers. Soldiers stood guard around the perimeter of the oval grounds. On one side a young man struggled against two of them, shouting something I couldn’t quite understand. In seconds he was gone.

  What was the cause of this? I could not imagine.

  “
Anybody home?” Massarym shouted above the din.

  This shocked me back to the task at hand. The Loculus was out of my pack and in my grip. Who had done this? Had I taken it out? I don’t remember. But my feet left the ground and I was hovering in the air, as high as Massarym’s shoulders. The roar of the crowd was deafening. I nearly lost my balance and the roar turned to a shocked “Ooooh!”

  I fought off panic and allowed myself to rise upward. It was as if the orb were responding to my thoughts, acting as an extension of my brain! Before I could even think the word left, I was zipping to the left. I tried to relax and let myself connect to the Loculus. I shot up into the sky, looped upside down—and then zoomed back to the ground, landing on my feet.

  Diary, I never dreamed I would be writing this, but—it was easy! Yes, you heard that right.

  Massarym15 was hoisting a gigantic boulder over his head using the Loculus of Strength, while simultaneously using the Loculus of Invisibility to disappear, making it look like the boulder was levitating all by itself.

  Ha! I took the chance to launch straight up into the blue, cloudless sky.

  The crowd, my family, the noise—everything shrank and fell away. The strong wind in the sky whipped in my ears as I glanced down at the Parade Grounds. The stadium was a tiny platter on a green table; my family looked like ants. I wobbled as the ground swam before my eyes. Quickly I looked away from the ground, toward the top of the Great Onyx Circle.

  Despite the clear day, the top of the circular ridge was ringed with dark clouds. Lightning knifed from the sky down onto the peak. Curtains of rain darkened the trees. It was as if the entire area was in a different day . . . or a different world.

  I looked back down at the performance below me, then again at the Great Onyx Circle.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  Karai! came a call, distant but directly in my ear.

  Karai!

  I hovered in the air, staring at the roiling mess in the sky above the Circle and suddenly I realized it was Massarym’s voice I was hearing. Come back down, it said. Karai!