Pasquinelli/Rise 465

The troop of battered, burned and bruised women and one man were struggling once again against the blizzard as best they could. It had kicked up since last they were outside, and Jon privately wondered if one of the Magi from inside Zorthin was to blame. There would be no sleeping or stopping this time -- Jotea had made it clear to them that they were headed back to the capitol with all haste. The silence between Jon Ray and Jotea was even more pronounced and permeating than it had been the previous day. Jotea didn’t say a word, but kept one arm out to stop the piercing wind from knocking them all over. Ray kept on rubbing her shoulder and shooting mean looks into the snow and kicking at it as if it was Ignus.

Jon fell behind the other two and decided to attempt to contact his only other friend in Iannis, Sye, with the miniature-clouded screen he had given him. He fumbled around and found it in his backpack -- Jotea had re-established the tent a few hours back so they could stop for some more of the red colored liquid, and Jon opted to have his backpack with him -- which wasn’t an easy feat because of the uneven snow, and held it up to his face. It merely showed his own distorted reflection back at him in the Screen. He tapped it a few times. Still nothing.

“Um...hello?”

Blank.

“Hmm....Xaitrel?”

The small screen began to de-fog, and Sye was staring up at Jon from the mirror.

“Jon,” said the miniature Sye jovially. “How have you been? Glad to see you’re using the Screen.”

“Oh yeah. It works fine.”

The miniature Sye looked around from inside the screen. “Where are you?”

“We’re in the Frost. We’re on our way back to Norea.”

His expression changed immediately. “What are doing in the --?”

“We were on a mission. Don’t worry, we’re all fine. See?” Jon turned the Screen so that it faced the two women ahead of him.

“Good.” He frowned. “Not something I would have advised the Empress to do, but she rarely listens to others if she has already made up her mind.”

“Yeah, I think she kind of regrets it... she’s been really quiet for the past five hours.”

“But how are you?”

“Oh...I’m better than I thought, actually,” Jon admitted.

Sye studied Jon’s face for a moment. “Oh my... she didn’t take you to face Ignus, did she? Not already?”

“No, really, it’s okay. I got to face him after weeks of waiting. It was kind of therapeutic.”

“Just don’t get too complacent in regards to him.”

“Frankly,” Jon said with a note of confidence in his voice that had been lacking for some time, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean, he maimed me and sorta knocked Ray out, but we’re all okay.”

“Yes, well, he was against a Magess of equal prowess and two other Magi -- one with the same abilities as himself and another one in training.”

Jon hesitated. He hadn’t thought of that. He also hadn’t heard anyone refer to him as a Mage. “Yeah... well still...”

“So what was the purpose of this mission?”

“Well, we were supposed to --” but Jon stopped. He remembered what Jotea told Fauntyle about a possible “leak” in the Council. Right now, he wasn’t sure whom he could trust. Perhaps Sye’s little display of heroics was nothing more than a staged event, meant to gain Jon’s trust so that he could later get sensitive information. Telling anyone at this point, whether friend or foe, might not be a good idea.

“Well, we really aren’t supposed to know,” Jon concluded reluctantly.

“Oh, okay, I understand,” Sye said. (Jon couldn’t tell if there was a note of disappointment in his voice or not.) “As long as you’re on your way back and no one’s hurt.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll let you go then. I’m sure there will be much to do when you three return.”

“Okay, see you later. Oh wait!” Jon remembered something.

“Yes?”

“This is the first time I’m contacting you. Did I explain myself enough?”

“What?” Sye looked puzzled.

“Remember what you said at your house? About being thorough when I first contact you? Was that enough?”

Sye laughed. “Just keep that in mind for the future. I mean -- past.”

Jon gave him a strange look.

“Never mind. Sye out.” Sye’s image faded and the opaque Screen returned to normal.

Jon felt badly that he had knowingly kept something from Sye, but at the same time, couldn’t help but be suspicious. He shot a glance back at the retreating mountain, and could see a black fog beginning to circle around one of the peaks.

“Come,” Jotea said in a strained voice over her shoulder. “We’ve still a ways to go, and our daylight is disappearing.”

Jon picked up his pace (and even his robes so he could move faster) to catch up with his female companions.

The rest of the trip back to the Window was far less leisurely (if that was even possible) than their trek to Zorthin. Out of breath and out of energy, they reached the Window in about a third of the time it took them to get from the Window to Zorthin. Then again, they did not stop as long as they did upon their arrival either. Jon had a few floating fireballs lit, not for warmth this time, but for light, as they had been traveling under darkness for hours. They had stopped only one other time to catch their breath.

“My feet are killing me,” said Ray. “And they’re cold, and I can’t feel anything. I’m not moving.” Ray plopped herself down on a Diamond tree stump and was trying to warm up. Jotea remained standing.

“Let’s thaw out a little bit, yeah?” Jon offered. He erected another small dome of heat around the three of them. Ray started shaking out her limbs, and even Jotea seemed to ease slightly -- she began rotating her head on her neck with her eyes closed.

Jon took a moment to enjoy the temporary warmth. It didn’t help matters that he could smell Jotea’s flowery scent immediately next to him. They couldn’t have been basking in the warmth for more than twenty seconds when Jotea spoke again. “Very well, we are done. Let’s go.”

Ray groaned.

“We are a half a mile from the Window, and the sun is beginning to rise. Would you rather stay in the Frost longer than we need to?”

Ray stood up and set off toward the approaching Golden Rays Forest without another word.

Jotea turned to Jon. “Perhaps I am psychic. I knew that would get her moving.”

Jon smiled at Jotea, but she did not return it. She had a momentary jest, but still looked somber. Something was definitely wrong. “I don’t remember seeing the Forest when we arrived,” Jon said, trying to lighten her mood as they began again.

“It was nighttime,” Jotea said.

“Oh yeah, right.”

After another half hour or so, Jotea stopped them all at the trunk of a very large Diamond tree -- one that had deep, rectangular etchings in the trunk. Jotea pulled out the key from the depths of her fur coat and placed it in the keystone area above the trunk. It disappeared, and the vortex opened.

Ray raised her eyebrows, shook her head slightly, before stepping through. Jon detected a hint of relief on her face in the mouth of the vortex on the other side. Clearly it was warm on the other side. Jotea nodded curtly at him, indicating he should go next. Once the rushing feeling was gone, Jon felt the temperature change, and instantly his extremities began to reawaken. It must have been at least twenty degrees above freezing, which was like a balmy summer day compared to what they came from. Jotea stepped through right after him and once through, she closed her eyes again, and breathed in deeply.

Ray was already almost bouncy by then. She had a smile on her face and looked like she’d just had a great night sleep. Once outside, the sky was a deep indigo -- a welcome change from the whited-out gray. Norea gleamed as usual in the dawn light, and the place never felt so much like home to Jon as it did in that moment.

“Follow me,” said Jotea. She stripped off her fur coat as she nearly sprinted across the terrace and down the stairs, taking two at a time. Even in her haste, Jon admired how much power Jotea exuded with her clothing lightly falling on the steps as she flowed down the stairs.

As they reached the main part of the castle, Jotea slowed her pace, but not by much. Jon and Ray almost had to jog to keep up with her. She was also leading them to a part of the castle Jon had never been to before. Fauntyle appeared across their path, going somewhere else, but caught sight of them before entering a doorway.

“Empress! You’re all -- ”

“Minister... there’s no time. Condition Yellow.”

This apparently meant something to Fauntyle because his brief joy turned into visible panic. “What?! It can’t --”

“Condition, Yellow,” the Empress repeated more slowly.

Fauntyle didn’t move. He stood there in apparent horror.

“NOW.”

Her command jolted him back to his senses. He nodded briefly and sped off in the opposite direction he had just come from. Jotea pressed onward.

“Jotea...where are we going?” said Jon.

“We are going to sound an alarm.”

“Oh.”

After several floors and doors, they entered a large room with five huge crystal objects that looked like giant punchbowls floating in midair on their sides next to each other. The bowls towered above Jon, Ray, and Jotea, and were of varying size, with half of their volume inside the room, and the other half hanging out a large open-air window overlooking the city. Jotea approached the second bowl to from the right. It began to spin on its axis so the lip of the bowl was moving very fast in a perfect rotation.

Jotea raised her hand, extended just her index finger and daintily made contact with the lip. It created a sound with such pitch that it was nothing like Jon had ever heard -- a mix between a horn and a violin. It, was beautiful, awful, and drowned out all other sounds. Clearly this was meant to be heard all over the city. She held the tune for under a minute, then the bowl stopped spinning.

“Uh...?” said Ray.

“That was the Condition Yellow alarm.”

“What’s Condition Yellow?” said Jon.

“It means there is an imminent attack on the city.”

“You mean that’s what you found out?” said Ray. “They’re going to attack the city.”

“Yes,” said Jotea.

“What are the other bowls for?” said Jon.

“Condition Red means an attack on the city is currently happening. It is a siege alarm.” She moved on to the other bowls. “This is Condition Green, an alert for the New Year. This is Condition Purple, meaning the reigning monarch has died or has been killed. And this one,” she said, taking a deep breath and moving the farthest to the left. It was also the smallest bowl. “Has never been sounded, because it spells tragedy. Condition Black. It has never happened, and I hope that it never will. It signifies that the Crystal of Power has been stolen from the monarchy.”

There was a silence for a moment, but it was brief, because Ray broke in by declaring, “Well, you won’t have to worry about that as long as we’re here.”

Jon was about to give Ray a disproving look, but changed his mind, looked at Ray and said, “Yeah.”

“I only hope you are correct. I must address the city; my citizens are already gathering at the gates. You can return to your rooms and try to get some rest. I will contact you with instructions later.”

Without another word or prompt, Ray turned around and walked out of the room. A moment later, Jon heard Ray’s voice from outside the room. “How the hell do I get back to the main staircase? JON!” She came huffing back in, and yanked Jon by the arm out of the room. Jon waved to Jotea as he nearly toppled out of the room.

He directed Ray as best he could back to the main staircase. Ray began tugging on Jon’s arm up with her, but he shook her loose. “No. I want to go and listen what she’s going to tell the people.”

“Fine, I’m going to sleep. Good night.”

“Night.”

Ray descended the staircase, while beginning to unzip and unclasp the outer layers of her jumpsuit.

Jon, meanwhile, went back the way he came, up to the tallest tower once again. He figured he’d have the best view, and would be able to hear Jotea from there. The last few hours seemed like a blur to Jon. His hunger and tiredness had all taken back seats to the adrenaline that was currently fueling him. Only a few floors from the top, Jon finally realized how tired and hungry he really was. He barely made it outside on the platform and found a spot on the banister in between a few castle servants when the Empress spoke from below on a raised platform on the castle wall.

“Citizens of Norea, and more importantly Iannis... an impending evil is creeping its way toward our great city. I will be brief, because time is of the essence, and we have very little of it.

“It has come to my knowledge that the Onyx Guild is, as we speak, mounting an offensive attack on our city.” At this point, the growing crowd at the castle gates broke out into waves of elevated discussion.

The Empress held up a hand, and quiet was restored. “My people, we must stay focused. We knew this day would come again. Last year, we effectively thwarted Ignus before his task force came within a hundred miles of Norea. This time, we are not as lucky. Scarlet Force will immediately convene with the Prime Minister outside the Capitol Building. Gold and Indigo Forces will meet in the Castle courtyard. Councilors...we will need you to visit every household of your respective districts and round up as many of our citizens as you can. We are going to need every capable person -- Magi or not -- in this --” The Empress’ voice was drowned out by the crowd’s uproarious and panicked response. Some of them left the crowd and were scattering in the streets. The Empress’ tone was undaunted as she stood on the platform.

Jon, for the past few minutes, was watching the crowd and listened to the Empress. He was surveying the people with his acute eyesight that he had discovered that first day he came into Norea. Lately, he had been able to call upon the advanced eyesight at will, like the fire energy. But his temporal abilities still remained somewhat dormant.

One person in particular caught Jon’s gaze -- the man that had confronted Jon at the restaurant during the bazaar. He had a contorted look on his face while the Empress was talking and he was one of the first to leave after she mentioned that she needed everyone who was able. (Jon privately thought that the whole city being “drafted” was overkill because they only observed a few hundred Guild members in Zorthin, plus he couldn’t fathom how they were all going to get to Norea on foot in only a few weeks’ time.)

Relative calm returned to the crowd, so the Empress continued. “We are going to need everyone who is able in this fight. The Guild is moving quickly. Their entire task force will reach our city gates ... in forty-eight hours.”

The crowd went positively wild this time and nothing could be heard save the noise that sounded like a sporting event crowd. The Empress didn’t wait for them to subside this time, but continued on. “We all have work to do. I will be sending updates to the Council every two hours.” And with that, the Empress left the platform. The crowd of thousands fanned out and within ten minutes, only a small group of manacle-clad Council members lingered outside the courtyard, conversing. Jon’s heart started to quicken in his chest again. He didn’t know they were so close. Had they found some means of flying to Norea? Or did Ignus have a key to the Windows like Jotea did?

Even though Jon was exhausted and could have dropped off to sleep right there on the tower, he knew he needed to see Jotea, if only to offer some sort of comfort.

He began to comb the castle, looking for her, at first, going through rooms and halls rapidly, but his body was slowing faster than his willpower. After hitting and searching numerous empty rooms (and sometimes occupied ones, but not by the person he was looking for), and the same locked doors he’d encountered, Jon finally gave in to his mounting hunger and aching feet. He pulled off his Phoenix Amulet Robes and made way for Topaz Hall. It was nearly afternoon anyway.

On his way down, Jon encountered a castle servant, and thought to simply ask to see where the Empress was so he’d know where to go after he got something to eat.

“Oh, her majesty is in Topaz Hall, conversing with some of the Councilors.”

“Perfect,” said Jon and he began to turn away.

“But you can’t see her. It’s only her majesty and the Councilors. The doors are locked and all.”

Jon stopped in his tracks. “Locked?”

“Yes indeed. She’ll probably be out in an hour or so.” The servant left Jon to figure out his next move. He didn’t want to wait around an hour. Plus, if he were just waiting around for an hour, he’d probably collapse from hunger, or tiredness, or both. He went to the door that led into Topaz Hall, and indeed, he tried it ever so cautiously just to see if it was unlocked, and it was certainly bolted. Jon even put his whole body weight on it, but to no avail. It didn’t budge. Jon looked around, hoping an answer would present itself. All he saw was a dark, narrow hallway that ran down one end of the Foyer near Topaz Hall that Jon had never been down -- it was tucked into a corner and didn’t look like a well-traveled area of the castle, much like the tallest tower.

Jon ventured into the darkened hallway. At the end of the short hallway, a wide staircase fell down deep under the main floor. A few lone torches lit the walkway. The landing split in two -- Jon took the right. Immediately, there was an open doorway with tape in an ‘X’ covering the opening. Jon peered inside and saw an expansive room, and on the doorway a sheet read “Hall of Records, doorway delivery” and had the day’s date. He remembered seeing this room a few days ago, and apparently they would be adding doors to it soon.

Further down the hall was another set of doors that were quite old. Jon entered the room and he was greeted by an already lit, already populated expanse. It was a very, very large kitchen. There were easily twenty stoves, counters the size of buffet tables, and enough cutlery to filet a whale in two minutes. Cooks and cleaners were bustling around the kitchen at different stations, preparing, baking, and cooking...

“Chef Tilldor,” called one of them, “we need containers for the rations going out. When will they be ready?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps by eight this evening?”

“Can you get them any faster?”

“I could... and just not have dinner ready on time.”

“Fine. Eight o’clock will do,” said the first man, who left through a doorway on the opposite end of Jon. A man passed by Jon very quickly, then stopped, and came level with Jon again. “Who are you?”

“I’m --”

“I know who you are,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Sorry to bother you, but I’m ... starving. Is there any scrap of something left over from earlier today or yesterday --?”

“YESTERDAY!” the man bellowed. “You think the home of the Empress will have anything from yesterday?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“We have scraps we give to the horses and cattle in the refrigerator over there,” he said, and pointed to a large upright metallic box in the corner.

“Refrigerator? Don’t they run on --?”

“A Charge. And you’re point?” said the man as he speedily walked away.

Jon walked the perimeter of the kitchen, trying to look as if he belonged there, even though he wasn’t wearing a white apron like everyone else, to the refrigerator. He was glad he wasn’t noticed again, so he went to the door, opened it and inside was a mélange of food of all sorts. Jon’s mouth salivated at the sight of it. After grabbing a pastry and a sandwich, Jon tucked the food in his arms and slipped through the doorway opposite the one he had come from. That doorway had a spiral staircase with windows in the walls. It was fairly quiet there, so Jon sat down and ate. Halfway through his sandwich and up the remaining stairs, Jon heard muffled voices speaking. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he wagered that staircase most likely went directly into Topaz Hall.

After his last swallow, Jon could think of no better way to go than up the stairs. He’d rather wait out the meeting and see Jotea in the Hall than have to go back through the kitchens and encounter more irate chefs. The wooden door at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar, and Jon listened in.

“We must act swiftly,” one voice said.

“We are acting swiftly.” Jon recognized the voice to be Fauntyle’s.

“I am amassing our army,” Jon also recognized the voice to be the Empress’.

“Your majesty, I understand you are moving quickly,” said the first voice again, “but I am not sure it is going to be enough.”

“Councilor, there are approximately two hundred Guild members who will be coming through their makeshift portable Window. I am certain we can thwart them, once again, before they hit our city Gates.”

“Portable Window...” Jon said quietly to himself. So that’s how they’re traversing the country in a matter of seconds. He stated to put two and two together. The three Guild Members that were crossing the continent...they must have the portable Window. Why didn’t the Empress just send out a small task force and have them all arrested?

“Majesty, if we could just send Green Force out to meet the three Magi, all this could be thwarted--”

“No,” said the Empress. “We will let them come, and be brought to justice. Why have you such little faith in me?”

“We don’t have a lack of faith, your majesty,” said the first man.

“Then what makes you think I will not lead us to success, much like I did a year ago?”

“The Council is worried that the circumstances are very different,” the first voice said carefully. “There were only a few dozen Guild members headed toward Norea, and we had weeks and weeks to properly react and intercept them in the forest. This is hundreds of Magi, and mere hours from now.”

“Ignus thinks he can use the element of surprise to catch us off guard. He is mistaken,” the Empress said. Jon was amazed at how strong she sounded even then. But then again, he just liked hearing her talk. “The matter is set. We will defend ourselves. Now if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have much to attend to. You can find me here if you need to speak with me.”

There was a shuffling as chairs were pushed back. Jon heard the door to the Hall click closed. He waited by his barely open door for a few minutes. He knocked softly and pushed the door open.

Jon spotted her immediately -- she was at one end of the long table, up to her nose in papers, books, maps and five different sized hourglasses. Jotea didn’t seem to be doing anything with them anymore, though. She was silently staring out into space; her hair was unkempt and she looked like a candle at the end of its wick. For the first time since Jon met her, Jotea looked young, too young.

He approached her, not knowing which words to use that might offer some comfort or insight to her obviously stressed mind.

“I knew you would come.”

Jon smiled. “Of course you did.” Jotea didn’t return the smile as Jon slowly approached her.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. It was wrong of me. I see that now,” she said hoarsely, without making eye contact.

“What?” Jon sputtered. Was she serious? Did she really think that after all that’s happened, Jon was only staying to help because Jotea was coaxing or forcing him?

“This...” Jotea began. Jon instinctively knew she wanted to say “mess” but didn’t. “Problem is not your problem.”

Jon remained silent, with mouth agape.

“It was unfair of me to drag you both into this situation we find ourselves in now. I thought in my finite wisdom that the more people we had, the better. But this is has gone far beyond some skirmish or power play. This is turning into a war.”

Jon stopped his dirge-like walk toward Jotea only a few feet from her. The word “war” hadn’t really sunk in until she said it just then.

“And how can I ask mere children to fight a war for me?”

That triggered a spasm of anger in Jon. Child? He stayed silent no longer. “What did you call me, Jotea?”

She finally looked up at him. “A child. You’re too young to be a part of this...” she almost said “mess” again, but refrained.

“Too young?” Jon spoke softly, his brow furrowing. “We’re barely three years apart.”

“Yes, but I explained to you both already; speaking to me is like speaking to a woman who is mentally a forty year old.”

“A forty year-old who’s acting like she’s younger than me,” Jon said, voice elevating.

“I say you’re children because it’s --”

“Not true,” Jon interrupted. “Ray and I have progressed a lot since we got here only a few weeks ago. We promised you -- this city -- the whole country -- that we’d stick it out. We’ve got something that can fight him.” (He fingered the Amulet in his pants pocket.) “We know how to use it and we’re not leaving.”

Jotea silently shook her head. “This has gone far beyond... this is becoming out of control.”

“Exactly. This is why you need our help.”

“You don’t understand!” Jotea said, standing up with her palms flat on the table, looking hard into his eyes. Her queenly impulses were taking over again, and she was asserting herself, but not terribly well. She could stare down and crush opposition in almost every situation she found herself in -- except now. Her eyes were shining, and she couldn’t maintain her rigidity. Jon softened his features and gazed into her eyes. Jotea tried to keep herself upright, but inside, she melted. “I -- just... don’t know what I’m going to do.” Her head hung low on her shoulders.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, only half believing it himself.

“I am not the one I’m worried about,” Jotea said, and looked up again with a tear crawling down her cheek. She started taking abnormally quick, sharp breaths.

Jon slid over to her in a single step. Much to Jon’s surprise, she put both her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Her breathing became normal again, but Jon felt her weight pull him down to a sitting position on the floor near the chair she was sitting in. Jon put one arm around her waist and the other on the back of her head and stroked her hair. Somehow, that felt right. It felt good to comfort her.

They sat together like that for an untold amount of time -- hours maybe -- with Jon lightly playing with Jotea’s curls and she, in return, sniffed softly and gently kneaded his lower back.

After a time, she stopped sniffing, and brought her hands forward, tracing them along his hips. Her palm rested flat on Jon’s stomach. He took in a long breath as the heat from her hand transferred through his cotton shirt. He put one of his hands on top of hers and felt a distinct, flowing energy when they touched. Their fingers intertwined, intensifying the bond.

Jotea looked up at him, her emerald eyes were no longer watery, but strong and controlled once again.

Jon’s instincts took over. He leaned forward toward her and opened his mouth ever so slightly. She didn’t pull away. She merely closed her eyes and waited. He did the same, and their lips joined. Although Jon wasn’t particularly religious, he imagined that this was what kissing an angel felt like. The same warmth from her hands was more pronounced and real in the kiss.

Jon wanted to stay lost in that very moment forever. He could hear her breathing; he could feel her, linked with him. He opened his eyes and saw that Jotea looked serene. Since he was used to seeing her as being powerful and strong, it was beautiful to see her relaxed and totally sharing in the moment with him. Her eyes were still closed yet he knew she could see him. After they broke apart, she opened her eyes a moment later. As she sat there and stared at him, Jon suddenly had this horrible thought she might come to her senses and wouldn’t be able to handle this and emotionally close to him. Jotea must have sensed his panic, because she then smiled at him and put her hand to his cheek, and more tingling warmth transferred between them.

And they dozed. Hours later they had fallen deeply asleep in their exact position. Jon was awoken by a crashing sound from the kitchens below. He hoped the ration containers were going well, otherwise the chefs wouldn’t be happy. The sky outside the windows was a deep blue -- night was beginning to fall, and the papers and books were still all over the tabletop.

Jon didn’t move. He didn’t want to wake Jotea up. She was peaceful and asleep, using his chest as a pillow and Jon was leaned against the heavy chair. Her long curly hair had become completely undone in the night and was all over the place, but she looked calm, at least she did right at that moment. It was not to last long.

Jon pulled himself closer to Jotea and was just starting to close his eyes again when the Prime Minister flung the doors open with a crash to find the two of them, half asleep and holding each other.

“Empress, I’m sorry to --” he began, and then spotted them. To say Faunytle was flabbergasted would have done an injustice to the look that befell his face.

The Empress was awake and standing up in half a moment. Jon staggered up next to her.

“That was...” the Empress tried to explain feebly.

Fauntyle said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Jon looked at the Empress. She looked apprehensive, almost frightened. How could she feel that way after what happened? It was almost as if she was ashamed of what transpired between the two of them. He turned and looked at her with an expectant gaze and his mouth slightly open. She didn’t meet his eyes.

The Prime Minister seemed to find his voice. “Empress, there are a few things I must consult with you on. Every willing and able-bodied Norean has been notified, and are set to gather in the courtyard and outside the castle walls tomorrow afternoon. Captain Mullik is about to go through our lists and begin to prepare instructions and breaking down the group into smaller ones. He wanted to speak to you first. And I’m sure you have many...” Fauntyle’s eyes rolled over to Jon for a breath “other pressing matters to attend to first.”

“Yes,” the Empress said firmly. Her veneer that had crumpled away before they fell asleep had returned.

She turned to Jon and gave him a curt and unnecessarily formal nod, still not making eye contact, and swept out of the Hall.

Jon almost went after her, but hardened his features and stood firm. If she wanted to resolve this, she would have stayed.

Fauntyle continued to stand there, not politely mute and surprised anymore. Now that the Empress was gone, he let his true opinion on the subject permeate to his facial features. His brow furrowed and his sandy blond hair ruffled after he ran his hand through it in frustration.

Just as rapidly, Jon went from blissful serenity to intense annoyance and frustration at himself and the Empress, which felt like they were not his own emotions. He looked up at the huffy Fauntyle.

“Damn it, what are you doing? It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Excuse me?” said Fauntyle.

“In the Hall, when we were about to leave for the Frost...and just now. These odd emotional bursts are coming from you, aren’t they?”

“Yes they are,” Fauntyle said, staring Jon down like a disobedient child. “I usually keep it under control, but sometimes it slips.”

“What, exactly, slips?” Jon said, becoming more irate. He was still not over that Jotea had left him there.

“My Charge slips from time to time. I’m an empath. I can sense emotions and sometimes can project my own at others when they become especially strong.”

“Well that explains it,” Jon said bitterly. He had felt what it was like to have emotions projected at him; Jotea had done it before and it just reminded Jon of her even more and how wonderful the feeling was when it happened.

Fauntyle composed himself and took his hands away from fidgeting with his shoulder-length hair. He went back to silently gawping at Jon with his narrowed eyes. On a lucky guess, Jon had an idea of why he was staring at him. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Fauntyle said in a monotone, not having blinked for many seconds.

“You’re trying to get a reading from my mind or something.” Even though it probably made it easier for Fauntyle, Jon continued to stare back at him, determined not to be the first to break eye contact.”

“Perhaps...” said Fauntyle distractedly.

“So. Stop.” Jon was fuming as he gripped the Amulet in his jean pocket. It grew warm in his grasp.

Fauntyle broke his hypnotic gaze and surveyed Jon as if he were a toddler. “I’m sorry, but as administrative head of the government of this city, I can tell that this is something that is happening is not good for us.” He didn’t sound sorry at all.

“You say that like I wanted this to happen. Like I’m choosing for this ‘something’ to happen on purpose.”

“Aren’t you?”

Jon stood there, glowering back at him, blood rushing to his face, heating him up. He couldn’t answer because he wasn’t sure himself whether he wanted it anymore. Why should Jon be the one to have to sort all this out and answer to Fauntyle? Wasn’t this her country? He was angry...with the Empress, Fauntyle, Ignus... It all seemed to be frothing over, culminating at this one moment in time when he was forced to deal with his heart.

“That’s none of...” he was going to say ‘your business’ but that didn’t seem to fit. It didn’t matter however, because Fauntyle seemed to be savvy.

“Oh yes it is. This is a matter of national security. It’s very much my business.”

Jon couldn’t understand why, but Jon’s emotions were running high. An immense anger was ballooning, not necessarily caused by Fauntyle’s questioning, but aggravated by it. The Phoenix Amulet grew slightly warmer in his grasp.

“This is not a childish, adolescent dating game. The Empress needs to focus her full attention on the war.”

“I know that,” Jon said, barely moving his lips. “But this is not childish.”

“Childish, frivolous, ridiculous, either will do.” Fauntyle returned.

“Childish, frivolous, ridiculous, either will do.” Fauntyle returned.

Jon said nothing but didn’t look away from the Prime Minister. The Amulet burned hot and suddenly shot out a yellow ray of hot energy at the Prime Minister through Jon’s pocket, which burst and tore. Jon’s mouth fell open as Fauntyle was hit in the stomach, thrown back off his feet and crashed into a dark-wooded credenza on the other side of the room. One of its doors came off its hinges, cracked in two and dropped onto the now unconscious Fauntyle.

Jon let go of the Amulet just as the Minister took flight. “Oops” was all he could think of saying as the Amulet hit the floor with a thud and rolled off on its side.

A mechanized woman’s voice then began issuing a statement from apparently nowhere. “Warning, an unauthorized Charge was used in Topaz Hall on the Prime Minister. Internal Security procedures in effect.” Simultaneously, an opaque white fog briefly obscured all the inside of the windows, the main and secondary entries, and a small bubble around Fauntyle. They disappeared just as quickly as they came.

Not caring to figure out what the anomalous fog and voice were, Jon sprinted to where Fauntyle lay. He was about to lean in and check for a pulse, but he hit a very solid white opaque shield that briefly lit up when he touched it. He recoiled because not only was it very solid, but also very painful to touch -- a mixture of electricity and intense heat.

Jon grabbed for the Amulet in his blown-out pocket, but his heart spasmed when he discovered it was not on his person at all, and remembered the thud as it hit the floor. His only means of protection was missing at the worst possible time. He frantically fell to his knees and peered through the legs of the many chairs at the long table. Jon found nothing; there were too many to look through at only one angle.

Muffled voices were coming from behind the main entrance. They gathered outside the door and appeared to be doing something to it. Jon stood up as the door opened and three guards dressed in silver came through the entry; the white force field blinked and they walked right through it unscathed. This was apparent from a glowing crystal on their armbands that lit up when they walked through the force field. They also wore many different shaped blades and small viles with what looked like glittering blue snowflakes inside them, which were strapped to their armor like rounds of ammunition.

The first guard who entered the Hall pointed what looked like a long-barreled gun at Jon. He barely took in a breath to say not to shoot him, but a blue streak of light hit him squarely in the chest from the weapon. He immediately collapsed onto the floor. The guard who fired at him rushed over to Jon. “You have been hit with a stun blast. Do not struggle.”

“Jonathan Kenneth, you are suspect of attacking the Prime Minister,” said the first guard.

“It was an accident, I didn’t mean -- I didn’t even know -- Jon said. He couldn’t move any of his limbs, but could still speak.

“Your motivations and intentions are not in question now. You are being informed of your rights. You will be detained and tried at a later date.”

“I’m sure if you spoke to the Empress,” Jon said out of desperation, “I am positive--”

“The Empress is presently at the Council Chambers. She will be informed of this incident shortly. Follow me.”

Jon thought the guard was crazy. After all, he was paralyzed. But just as he tried to protest, he moved easily under his own power. Apparently the paralyzing was temporary. The guard placed restraints on his hands, and was fitted with an armband that had white blinking strips running across it.

He couldn’t think of anything to say. Without the Phoenix Amulet, he was defenseless and powerless. He complied, and as he was being led out of the Hall at gunpoint, Jon glanced over and saw the third guard tending to the Prime Minister with those curious viles. Fauntyle was still out cold and had a huge burn mark on the pectoral area of his robes.

As soon as the group left Topaz Hall, Jon felt a sharp pressure on his lower back. He didn’t want to turn around, but he judged that it was probably one of the blades he had seen.

Jon was led along the same corridor as the Hall of Records and the kitchens, but taken down the other way. Windows disappeared the further downstairs they went. The corridor was lit by intermittent floating red orbs. Jon was placed in a cell along a hall. It was a six by seven foot room with a cot and a large rectangular break in the wall for entry and exit. As soon as Jon was inside the cell, the de-clasped his arms, the opaque white fog force field appeared, then dissipated just like it had in Topaz Hall.

The guards left him without another word. He was locked in and alone. He absently tried to search for the Phoenix Amulet but again to no avail. He sat on the bare cot and stared at the red wall, colored by the eerie orbs. He imagined he could have blasted his way out with the Amulet, but without it, things were looking bleak.

Jotea will fix this. She’ll be here soon to help. Or would she? She barely looked at Jon when they woke up; maybe she was angry with him. Jon thought he had every right to be angry with her, but when it was women involved, he just didn’t know. Jon wished he had an ex girlfriend to compare Jotea to, but he didn’t. Working in the shop had left him no time for something like that.

He didn’t have his watch on, so he didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eon. Discovering the various ways to sit, lean, lay down and get comfortable in the tiny cell were wearing thin.

Right about the time the wall imperfections were becoming interesting, there were footsteps coming. It was a singular guard. His face was menacingly familiar, but Jon couldn’t pinpoint him. He held up a green card to the opening of the cell, and the force field deactivated. The guard stepped inside and smirked at Jon.

“Hello...Ignus,” he said calmly.

It hit Jon like a train. The man that got the patrons riled up at the restaurant about him during the bazaar...the same man who disappeared from the crowd during the Empress’ speech...was now standing in Jon’s cell. Next to Ignus himself, this was the last person Jon wanted to see in a dark dungeon alone.

“That is not my name,” Jon said.

“Yeah right. You won’t be calling the shots any longer.”

The last thing Jon saw in the dungeon was a fist flying at his eyes.