Embracing the Flames (17 page)

Chapter 12

The Demented Test

THE SWELTERING HEAT WAS EXHAUSTING, the air so thick I could taste the stench of the stagnant water. I cursed myself for once again getting caught up in a tricky situation.

Zane was a few steps ahead, his stature intent on finding out what his father was up to. I rushed to match his pace. Sinking into the soupy mixture of mud and water, our footsteps sounded like a toilet being plunged.

I cringed.

Oddly enough, through all the funk and grime of our current predicament, I did my best to ignore the lure of his scent and the magnetic pull I felt towards him.

Strange noises echoed all around us. My eyes shifted left then right, searching for the source. Zane continued on, unaffected by the threat of the lingering shadows.

If he isn’t scared, then I shouldn’t be, I thought to myself. I tried pushing my shoulders back, adding confidence to my stride to meet his. He looked over at me and chuckled which in turn caused my lips to turn south.

The crowd’s hissing picked up as we neared the army of Dark Saar. “Stay back,” Zane growled. “They can’t know we’re watching.”

Silently, I nodded and followed him over to a large tree that branched out over the crowd. He put his hand out as if to help me up, and I cocked my eyebrow, easing out a small smile as I released my wings.

“Puh-lease,” I mouthed jokingly, jumping up into the air and resting quietly on a branch.

Zane followed suit, climbing up just as quietly behind me. After getting situated, we leaned in, anxious to hear what they were saying.

“Lay the Harpy upon the Altar of Sacrificccccce,” hissed the leader of the Dark Saar.

“As you wish, Searamin,” replied Zordon. “Guards, bring her to me.” His energy sizzled viciously as his men dragged the Harpy towards him. She snapped and snarled at their hands, poison dripping off her fangs and claws. One of the men threw an elbow at her, knocking a tooth out, before throwing her face-first into the mud at Zordon’s feet.

The black crystal atop Zordon’s wooden staff glowed as his power rushed out of it. The second his energy made contact with the Harpy’s skin, her shrill cry pierced my ears and reminded me of when Astral was taken from me. On impulse, I moved to try and help her but was stopped by Zane’s forceful grip.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “There is nothing you can do. One Harpy’s life is not worth the ground you walk on.” His eyes twinkled as they bore into my own, touching those feelings that were steadily slipping away from our earlier merging. Did he really feel what I just saw in his eyes or was it the fading connection?

Another shrill cry squashed the thought as I turned back to face the horror below. The Harpy was hovering above the army, held by the string of magic leaving the tip of Zordon’s staff. Her constant squirms weren’t enough to break free from his power. He lifted the staff and pointed it to the altar where her body finally came to rest.

From out of the shadows of the murky swamp, four Dark Saar appeared, floating on thin air as they glided towards her. They each touched the corner of the altar, and a string of black energy wrapped around her hands and feet, sparking like electricity.

She writhed beneath the restraints, her body twisting as her bird-like wings tried to stretch from underneath her. Her claws dug into the stone and scraped along the edge of the altar, carving the mark of death.

My hand held my mouth shut tightly for fear of releasing a scream. I held my breath, unsure of what was to come next. I tried to ignore the wild pounding of my heart, coaxing me to save her.

Her death was quick. Zordon pulled a knife from inside his robe and slit her throat. With a life of its own, the blood trickled down the altar and into the slanted, hollowed-out grooves, until it dripped into a hole, pooling beneath the stone. The Harpy’s struggles slowed as her life force drained out.

All of the Dark Saar’s eyes lit up with temptation, mouths anxiously licking at the scent of death.

I felt the warmth of a tear trail down my cheek along with Zane’s eyes probing the side of my face. I met his gaze, the pools of sorrow continually flowing. He reached out and caught a tear as it fell, then moved his thumbs over my cheeks, trying to erase the stains of pain.

I jerked away from him, and his hand instantly fell. “Sorry,” he mumbled, shame shading his features.

Searamin spoke. “Now for the truth. You must imbibe her blood,” he taunted with a low snarl, waiting beside Zordon as the last breath left the lips of the Harpy.

Zordon skimmed the surface of the bloody pool with his hand, bringing the scent up to his nose and inhaling deeply. He tasted it, the blood staining his lips. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

A moment went by. The Dark Saar brimmed with anticipation as Searamin’s evil smile coiled to the skies. When he turned to begin his questions, Zordon dragged the blade across his own wrist, his crimson tears falling onto the slit neck of the Harpy.

He let his blood drain for a moment and then stood back as we all watched it sizzle like acid upon her skin.

“That’sssss not the ritual,” barked Searamin. “You lie,” he hissed, turning to face the army behind him. “Brothersssss and Sisterssssss, he liessss to usssss.”

The ground began to rumble as the angry mob stomped and shouted out their complaints. They were preparing to storm Zordon and his men.

For a brief moment, I thought that maybe they would kill him for me. Problem solved.

I was delusional.

A horrifying gasp left the Harpy’s mouth, and everyone’s head swiveled back to the altar. She was almost upright and had resumed writhing beneath the restraints as if death had merely been a façade.

Everything went as quiet as an evening breeze. Searamin walked over to the squirming Harpy. She looked like she was ready to bite any hand that touched her, her mouth chomping furiously at the air.

He grabbed Zordon’s wrist and brought the blood to his lips, eyes closing in passion at the taste. “The Fatessss’ ssson, come to bargain with the Dark Sssaar.”

“We both have something the other wants,” replied Zordon dryly.

“It seemsss we do,” agreed Searamin. “Come, let’sss walk.” He turned away from the Harpy, heading into the crowd of his army as they stepped aside mechanically.

“Clean this up,” Zordon barked at his men. The Harpy’s eyes grew in fear as she realized that death would come not once but twice for her.

The men started laughing with cocky smiles as they surrounded the helpless bird-woman while the army of Dark Saar began to disperse, some vanishing in a puff of smoke, others walking off into the swamp. Most were muttering under their breath about the lack of action taken.

“Wait here,” whispered Zane as he silently leapt onto the ground, landing like a panther. I reached out to stop him, but he was too quick. He disappeared amongst the rotting trees and mud.

“What isss it you are wanting? What’sss your bargain?” asked Searamin, hands folded behind his back as the two men strode away from the Harpy. I had to strain, using my dragon abilities to hear.

“The exchange of my…” Zordon broke off, whispering too quietly for me to hear, but then his voice picked back up, “with that you will be able to free…” He faded out again. I was hanging as far as possible off the limb in an attempt to hear, indifferent to my conspicuous position.

My eyes shot over to where the Harpy lay, dead for the second time, this time with no hope for return from her harsh grave. Zordon’s men touched the corners of the slab with their staves as they undid the restraints. Zane had somehow army-crawled up to the slab, in between Zordon’s men.

What was he doing?

One red glow later, he was holding a small vial, which he then dipped into the pool of the Harpy’s blood. Gross, I thought as I shuddered.

Everything would have worked out perfectly; we probably would have gotten away easily had the Harpy’s hand not dropped whatever was in its grasp. When the men lifted her, her hand lolled to the side, fingers opening from the smack against the altar. The object fell right where Zane hid in the muddy water.

I gasped as it fell, bringing everyone’s attention to the tree. In a heartbeat, Zane was by my side, an unseen flash of energy that had bolted away from the men below us.

Zordon and Searamin turned at the sound of shouting voices.

Great.

“The Progeny,” seethed Searamin as Zordon rushed towards us in a blur.

“Now would be a good time to leave,” said Zane, grabbing my arm and pulling us into a portal he had just opened.

We landed back in the Biblium of Anything and Everything. Alister was waiting by the table I landed on, the wood crushing beneath the weight of my shifted form.

“Sorry, sorry,” I rushed out. I quickly stood, as if that would erase the damage I had caused. Alister stood looking at the ground and shaking his head.

He coughed and then hooted, asking for our attention. The little brown owl from earlier flew down, carrying something that looked like a perfume bottle.

“Move out of my way, hatchlings,” commanded Alister as he yanked the bottle from the owl and began spraying wildly into the air. He looked like a crazed maniac smoking out invisible bees.

“What are you doing?” I asked, moving away from him.

“Closing the port trail. You are mad to have come back here. If ever found by the hands of evil…” Alister shuddered at the thought.

“Sorry,” Zane answered for me. “I just connected the portal to Aurora so it would bring her back to where she had come from. I figured we would’ve gone to her home.” As he took in his surroundings, he let a small stream of red energy out, sending it towards the table as it began to mend itself.

“Never mind, never mind, sit, sit, young Progeny.”

Fenn rushed over to me, an obvious line of footsteps embedded in the dust where he had paced, waiting for my return. “Are you hurt?”

After I nodded and stepped into his hug, he looked over at Zane who had just finished fixing the table. “You’re…alive?” he asked, searching Zane’s face, trying to make sense of it.

“The one and only,” Zane replied, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“But how?”

“Long story. Can I get something to drink?” He glanced around the Tree, taking in the scurry of owls. “What is this place?”

“Long story,” Fenn repeated dryly, handing him a conjured glass of water. He turned his attention back to me. “What happened this time?” His comforting gaze searched mine.

I recapped everything and tried to refrain from the gory details for Lexi’s sake. She seemed pretty shaken up at the sight of Zane.

“So you have the blood of The Fates in you?” she asked incredulously.

“Seems so.”

She shook her head in dismay, turning from us to plop blankly onto a stool. Her expression was vague and far off.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m glad you’re alive,” Fenn said, gripping Zane’s shoulder in comfort. “We were so guilt-stricken when we heard.”

Zane looked at Fenn’s hand as if it were on fire. “I’m glad you’re glad.” He sounded skeptical.

“I just can’t believe Astral hid this from me,” I said in dismay.

“Do you really think he knew?” Fenn asked, throwing his arm over my shoulder.

“I-I don’t know what to think anymore.” My head hung, hiding the water in my eyes. It was all so much to digest. I didn’t want to believe that Astral thought hiding all of this was for the best.

“Alister said that Astral told him you needed to go to the Swamp. Maybe this is why,” Lexi added, “to find this out about Zordon. Knowing this might actually help us.”

“Not to switch subjects, but how is it even possible for Zordon to be a Fate’s son?” Fenn asked.

“Apparently they don’t follow their own rules and whoever sired him is still up there. Could be where Astral’s mention of corruption stemmed from,” Zane said in between sipping his water. He sounded so calm and collected, something I had yet to master. He made it look so easy. He caught me staring at him and smirked a little over the rim of his glass. I quickly looked away.

Lexi scrunched her face up, her finger waving in the air. “But the fifth Fate died for what he did when he created the dragon race. Something doesn’t make sense about this. Why is Zordon going through all of this if he is a Fate’s son? Shouldn’t he be able to do what he wants?” Lexi questioned.

Fenn shifted in his seat. “Maybe that’s what we need to question. We were obviously wrong about him wanting the Stone just for immortality. Maybe this is why he wants both realms.”

I looked over at him. He was right. He wanted the Saar to help end the race of dragons so he could have a way into the Obsidian Chasm to obtain the Stone. If he was a Saar, that would enable him to kill me since I was part dragon. He would then use the Stone as a port key so he could get into the Hall and try to overthrow both realms. “Someone must be helping him, though I’m not sure why,” I said.