Instantly, the cannon’s vibrations ceased with a loud snap. A super intense blast of energy exploded out of the cannon—right into the cavern wall. Huge blocks of ice crashed down as the cavern imploded, shaking the entire cloud.
Ice crystals flew in all directions, creating fog so thick that it covered all the Caverns of Doom. The fog lasted only a few seconds, but just before it cleared, a lone warrior emerged from the swirling mists.
Promi burst out of the vapors. Though his shoulder ached and his eyes stung from the powerful blast, he was still alive. Still in one piece. And still as eager as ever to defeat Narkazan.
Now to finish the job! he told himself triumphantly. Regaining his bearings, he sped off to rejoin the others.
CHAPTER 30
Desperation
As fast as a comet, Promi raced back to his fellow defenders. He couldn’t wait to tell them the flashbolt cannon was no longer a threat.
He veered around a huge block of ice and the battle came into view. The instant he saw the defenders, though, his heart sank. They still battled furiously, for sure. But their numbers had diminished markedly from when he’d left on his mission. Clouds of utterly dark mistwraiths surrounded many of them, while red dragons tore furiously into anyone within reach—whether wind lions or bears, humans or bees.
Straining to see through all the ice crystals floating everywhere, Promi thought he caught a glimpse of Theosor, bravely fighting a pair of red dragons. And he spotted Ulanoma’s long neck as she swooped into a mass of mistwraiths, her wings spread wide. Whether or not Bonlo was still with her, Promi couldn’t tell. And amidst the fray, he saw no sign of Jaladay or her lionsteed Shellina.
Promi zoomed into the battle, surprising a band of Narkazan’s archers who were just about to release a volley at a pair of wind lions. Slamming into them from the side, Promi hit them with all his force. Arrows, bows, and archers tumbled, while the wind lions escaped unharmed.
Just as he spun around, Promi happened to glance back at the huge gray cloud he’d left only moments before. While the cavern that once held the flashbolt cannon had now collapsed completely, what caught his attention was another cavern entirely.
Much larger than the others, the mouth of this cavern was surrounded by a group of mistwraiths. Were they guarding the entrance? If so . . . why?
His answer appeared as an immense vehicle emerged from the entrance. Standing atop it was Narkazan himself, his hands on his hips. The warlord’s tusks flashed in the light as he barked orders to a pair of winged ogres who were moving the vehicle into place.
Suddenly, as the contraption swung around, Promi saw a huge vaporstone muzzle that extended from its core. Pointing right in his direction!
A cannon! he realized with a jolt. Another cannon, even bigger than the first one!
“Promi!”
Jaladay’s shout made him whirl around. He felt a wave of relief that she was still alive, though her robe was torn and she’d lost her eye band. Kermi, too, had suffered, evidenced by the burned fur on his back and tail. Shellina, though, had fared worse: A savage gash ran all the way from her neck to her hindquarters, oozing blood.
At that moment, a proud head covered with turquoise scales emerged from behind a massive cluster of crystals. Ulanoma! And there, riding on her brow, was old Bonlo—still alive, though his monk’s robe had been scorched by dragon fire. Swiftly, they flew toward Promi.
Flying erratically to avoid a volley of arrows, Theosor came right behind them. As the great wind lion approached, Promi noticed something new in that proud face crowned with a mane. Something he’d never expected to see.
Desperation.
“Promi,” called Jaladay again. “Leave now! The battle is lost.”
“Now, young cub!” roared Theosor. “We must escape while we still can! Before he fires the—”
An enormous boom! rocked the entire region. Shot from Narkazan’s huge cannon, the blast flew swifter than lightning—and slammed directly into Promi and his friends.
CHAPTER 31
The Greatest Single Force
Struck by the blast from Narkazan’s cannon, Promi expected to perish instantly—incinerated just as his parents had been. Instead, something very different happened.
An enormous net, shot from the cannon, opened fully just before it hit Promi and his friends. All of them—Promi and Jaladay, Kermi (still clinging to Jaladay’s neck), the two wind lions, as well as the turquoise dragon and her passenger Bonlo—were thrown backward by the force. The net, made from fibrous strands of vaporstone, closed around the whole group.
With a terrible crash, they slammed into an immense wall of ice bigger than a hillside. Tiny ice crystals rained down on them from the impact, while the powerful grappling hooks attached to the edges of the net sank deeply into the wall.
Ulanoma roared in rage. The turquoise dragon arched her powerful back and thrashed her long neck, trying with all her might to break out of the net. Theosor and Shellina did the same, swiping at the net with their paws and twisting madly to free themselves. But their motions only drove the hooks deeper into the ice.
Meanwhile, the more they struggled, the tighter the net wrapped around them. All the dragon got for her efforts were dozens of lost scales, pried loose by the net. Even the strength of two great wind lions did nothing to break their bonds.
Seizing his dagger, Promi tried desperately to hack away at the strands. Yet his blade didn’t even make a dent on the vaporstone fibers. He kept trying, regardless, even when his arm and back ached from the strain.
“Don’t spend yourself,” said Jaladay glumly. “This net can’t be broken.”
Promi scowled, fearing she was right. But before he re-sheathed his dagger, he turned to a different kind of weapon—the skills of a Listener. Focusing on the net, he used that remarkable sense to probe its innermost fibers, trying to hear the secrets of how it had been woven. And how it might possibly be broken.
Deeper and deeper he probed, searching for any sort of weakness. Any flaw at all.
None, he concluded sadly. This net really is invulnerable.
“As I told you,” said Jaladay, having heard his thoughts. Though her face remained grim, she gave her brother a wan smile. “But you wouldn’t be Promi if you didn’t try anyway.”
He sighed. “What can we do, trapped in a net that’s unbreakable?”
“We wait,” answered Theosor, his rumbling voice weighed down by despair. “For the inevitable.”
“Not so fast,” piped up Bonlo. Pinned against one of the dragon’s huge ears, he said quietly, “This net may be unbreakable . . . but so is our courage.”
Like a faint charge of electricity, the elder monk’s words sent a current through everyone. A current of hope. In Ulanoma’s ocean-glass earring, the smallest spark of light appeared in the dense darkness.
“Well, well,” rasped a harsh voice outside the net. “Isn’t this a lovely sight?”
Narkazan peered at them, trapped completely, as he floated just out of reach. Hovering beside him, a pair of mistwraiths crackled vengefully, their dark folds rippling.
Theosor roared mightily, as did Shellina and the turquoise dragon. But Narkazan merely folded his thin arms and scoffed at them. “Is that all the noise you can make? Such a pity.”
Ignoring the chorus of angry growls, their tormentor drifted closer, so that his narrow chin almost touched the net’s strands. Seeing Jaladay astride a wind lion, he rasped, “How nice to see you again, my jewel, my prize. I knew you would come back to me eventually.”
Jaladay shot him a look more piercing than any blade. “I did come back. But only to destroy you!”
The scars on Narkazan’s face darkened until they resembled rivers that ran with blood. “You will soon regret your impudence,” he said coldly.
Turning to Promi, the warrior spirit taunted, “I was so very sorry to hear ab
out your parents’ demise. What a great shame! Imagine losing all those eons of wisdom in one fiery instant.”
So much raw emotion flooded Promi that it clogged his mind, as well as his throat. He just stared, speechless, at Narkazan. So did Jaladay.
Cackling softly, their captor continued, “I speak truthfully. I was disappointed that they died in that flashbolt.” Lowering his voice, he added, “Much too quickly! I would have delighted in finding ways to prolong their misery.”
“If anyone deserves prolonged misery,” said Promi hoarsely, “it’s you.”
Narkazan stroked the tip of his pointed chin. “Fear not, son of the Prophecy. I shall not make that same mistake with you! Or your sister the Seer. Or,” he added with a nod at the other prisoners, “with any of your ragtag allies.”
Behind him, the mistwraiths crackled approvingly, releasing a shower of black sparks. One of those sparks landed on the net, sizzling on a strand. Glancing down, Promi watched it, hoping it might burn through the fiber. Alas, the spark fell away, leaving nothing more than a charred smudge.
Still gazing at Promi, Narkazan added casually, “That also goes, by the way, for any allies you have on Earth.”
Seeing Promi tense, the warlord clucked with satisfaction. “Or have you not yet heard about my little gift to your old world?”
“I’ve heard about that bloodthirsty monster you set loose, if that’s what you mean.”
“Quite so,” answered Narkazan. “But my guess is you don’t yet comprehend its full purpose. While the wretched beast thinks it exists to eat and eat some more . . . its real purpose is much more subtle.”
“You mean more murderous,” retorted Promi, wriggling under the net.
“You’re on the right track, son of the Prophecy. That monster will devour any mortals who might ever be tempted to oppose my invasion of Atlantis—all before I even arrive on the island.”
“Coward!” spat Promi. “You’re nothing but a coward!”
Ignoring him, Narkazan calmly stroked his chin. “Ah, but the best thing about my monster is not what it will do to the people on Atlantis. No . . . its supreme accomplishment will be what it does to all the rest of the people on Earth.”
“What? You mean—”
“No need for me to explain. Certainly not to you. But you can take my word that the monster carries something quite powerful. Something that will swiftly destroy any mortal foes I might ever have to meet. All before I meet them, of course.”
Before Promi could ask any questions, Narkazan rasped, “But enough about the future! Let’s talk about the present—by which I mean the various tortures that await you.”
The warlord paused, allowing his threat to sink in. “I have such wondrous tortures in mind for you, son of the Prophecy.”
When Promi set his jaw defiantly, Narkazan added, “As well as your sister and your friends.” Lowering his voice, he said, “But most of all, your sister.”
Seeing Promi wince, he crowed, “Such glorious agonies await you all!” Tapping one of his tusks thoughtfully, he added, “Unless . . .”
“Unless what?”
Peering at the captive young man, Narkazan said, “I would be willing to change my plans on one condition.”
Doubtful, Promi raised an eyebrow.
The warlord’s stern expression hardened even more. “I cannot possibly resist torturing you, Promi, in the most painful ways ever devised. I have relished that prospect far too long to abandon it now.”
He shook his head, making his earring hit repeatedly against one of his tusks. “However, I would promise to spare the life of your sister, Jaladay . . . if you accept my condition.”
Cautiously, Promi asked, “What do you want?”
Narkazan replied with a single phrase: “The Starstone.”
Promi caught his breath. “You know I have it?”
“Yes. I can sense its presence, its power, even now.” Narkazan frowned. “With the tortures I have planned for you, the precious crystal could be damaged. Compromised. But if you give it to me of your own volition . . . the Starstone would be spared. And so would your sister.”
“Don’t do it!” shouted Jaladay. “I would much rather die than have the crystal in his evil hands.”
Narkazan gave her a sharp look. “You may say that now, my jewel. Yet when you encounter my most excruciating treatments, you will change your mind. Oh yes, you certainly will.”
“Never,” she vowed.
Promi gazed at her—his sister, his only sibling, his great friend. If he actually could somehow save her life . . . wouldn’t that be worth something? Maybe even something as precious as the Starstone?
His face twisted with uncertainty. He had done so much wrong in his brief life! He’d failed to tell Atlanta what he truly felt for her, just as he’d failed to protect Atlantis. And that very day, he’d failed to save the lives of Sammelvar and Escholia—his own parents, as well as the beloved leaders of their people.
Feeling the bulge in his tunic pocket, he wondered, Is this my last chance to do at least one thing right?
Promi’s mind whirled. Doubts, questions, and ideas all wrestled with each other, circling and circling, faster and faster.
“No more delaying, son of the Prophecy.” Narkazan’s harsh voice pierced his thoughts like a dagger. “What is your decision?”
All at once, in that instant, Promi knew exactly what he must do.
Twisting under the net, he created just enough room to reach his hand into his pocket. With a dismal sigh, he pulled out the Starstone.
“No!” cried Jaladay.
“Don’t do it, young cub,” rumbled Theosor.
Yet Promi didn’t seem to hear. Though he still held the Starstone inside the net, he started to slowly reach through the webbing toward the warlord.
Extending his own hand, Narkazan grinned eagerly, the expression of a hungry man about to taste his most favorite food.
“Please, Promi,” cried Jaladay. “Don’t do this!”
“Resist, young cub. Resist!”
The mistwraiths crackled louder than ever, quaking with excitement.
Promi, however, wasn’t listening. Instead, he was hearing other voices—voices from the past.
The veil, announced Sammelvar sadly, is destroyed. Gone forever. His face grim, he continued, All that magical energy—once the greatest single force in the spirit realm—is now lost, scattered everywhere.
Again and again, Promi heard those phrases in his memory.
All that magical energy.
The greatest single force in the spirit realm.
Scattered everywhere.
At the same time, he heard another voice from memory: Theosor’s clear warning about the Starstone.
We can never use it as a weapon, young cub. The Starstone can only be used to magnify positive magic—to create, not to destroy.
Those phrases, too, echoed in his mind.
Never use it as a weapon.
Only to magnify positive magic.
To create, not destroy.
Sammelvar spoke again, his voice rich with both wisdom and love. All that magical energy.
And Theosor roared his reply. Create—not destroy.
Squeezing the Starstone in his hand, Promi turned his full attention to the present. Silently calling to the magical crystal, he pleaded, Hear me, Starstone. Grant me one last wish—one last creation.
He poured all his energy into conveying that wish. So hard did he squeeze the crystal, his hand shook with pain.
Narkazan, watching carefully, thought Promi was shaking with fear and doubt. In his most silky voice, he coaxed, “Come now, Promi. Hand it to me.”
Reaching his bony hand closer to the net, the warlord urged, “That’s right. You keep your part of the bargain and I’ll keep mine.”
Promi reache
d through the net. He started to open his hand—just enough that a single facet of the crystal brushed against Narkazan’s fingertip.
Instantly, the Starstone flashed with all the brilliance of a newborn star. Narkazan reeled, crying out and covering his eyes. Behind him, the mistwraiths screeched angrily.
In that instant, Promi’s wish—a wish with two parts—came true.
First, from every corner of the realm, all the old magic of the veil rekindled. Instead of scattering aimlessly, all that energy—amounting to the most powerful force in the spirit realm—instantly reversed course and coalesced in a single, concentrated sphere that completely enveloped Narkazan. As well as the pair of mistwraiths. Squeezing down on them like an impenetrable bubble, the newly constituted sphere created a transparent shield around the realm’s greatest enemy—a shield that would contain him for all time.
“Let me out!” shrieked Narkazan as he pounded on the sphere. Though the container muffled his exact words, his meaning could not have been more clear.
Enraged beyond any description, his eyes flashed and his skin turned purple. Wrathfully, he kicked at the mistwraiths unlucky enough to be trapped inside the sphere with him. But all his violent kicking accomplished was to jostle the sphere, making its captives even more uncomfortable.
Pressing his face against the sphere, Narkazan’s gaze met Promi’s. While the warlord continued to rant, however, all Promi did was grin. For both of them knew that Narkazan would be confined in that prison for eternity.
The moment Narkazan’s warriors realized that their leader had been captured, they abruptly ceased fighting. For they knew that, without their leader, they were destined for certain defeat. As if on command, all the mistwraiths, red dragons, insect beasts, and others either surrendered or fled into hiding. Soon all that remained of Narkazan’s army was the sphere, floating aimlessly on whatever breeze might touch it.
The second part of Promi’s wish happened in that same remarkable moment: The vaporstone net dissolved! Suddenly, Promi and his companions were all free.