Secrets of Stone and Sea, page 21
“Bigfoot had a seal on its chest, too,” Grandma said. “When Peter touched it, Bigfoot turned to dust. That could happen to Peter.”
“It might not,” Sophie said, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Kai, what exactly did you see in that cave?”
Peter listened as Kai told them all about the mural and the metal matrix with the crystals, and what it revealed when they shone the flashlight through it.
Which was interesting to Peter. The Atlanteans who made that chamber had put the Sea in the wall as part of the mural. Wouldn’t it be just as easy to put the Land in there, too, the same way? Why bother creating a light show?
Kai was still talking. “It all makes sense. Some of the Atlantean words have multiple meanings. One that means ‘twin’ comes up a lot. The Atlantean texts don’t really make it clear if they worshipped one creature or two. They refer to ‘sacred metal’ and ‘day flowers’ and other things that don’t belong to the ocean. They belong to the land. The signs were always there.”
“We just saw them too late,” Dad said. Springs creaked as he sank into their chair. “We should have stopped before Bridgewater. But now … do we think the seal will just go away?”
No one spoke. Peter, for one, didn’t think it would. He’d always carry, always be the seventh seal, until it was broken. And then what?
“Maybe we risk it,” Grandma said. “It seems cruel that the gate binding the Sea would gift you with the ability to read languages, and Peter with the power to open the seals, and then require one of you to be destroyed. Why do that? Maybe activating it is the only way to get that seal off Peter.”
That was a good point, Peter thought. The Atlanteans might have built into the ritual a sacrifice to prevent people from opening doors they shouldn’t. But that didn’t explain why opening the gate granted Kai and him powers that helped them raise the Land, too.
And why did the ritual to raise the Sea involve bringing a twin? There was more here. He could feel it.
“We can’t risk it.” Kai sounded angry. “The ritual to raise the Sea required a sacrifice. Maybe this is the same. I’m not going to sacrifice my brother.”
“We might either way.” Sophie’s voice cracked. “If we don’t do something, we all die when the Sea comes for us. Including Peter.”
“Are you saying we sacrifice Peter for the greater good?” Kai shouted.
Sophie raised her hands. “No, of course not! We … we can get it off Peter. And then open the seal. That way we can save everyone.”
Peter wondered if her words sounded as hollow to everyone as they did to him. If there was going to be an easy way out, they would have found it already.
“A dream turns nightmare with revealed price, for who can pay that which asks for all?” Kai said, quoting MacHale’s last poem. “It’s obvious. The price here is Peter’s life. I can’t … I can’t make that choice. I can’t do it.”
With a pang, Peter realized that no, Kai couldn’t. Neither could Sophie or Dad or Grandma. Only Peter could make the choice to activate the last seal.
Himself for the rest of the world.
In terms of math, it made sense. But there were so many variables. What if bringing back the Land didn’t stop the Sea? What if it made everything worse?
But what if it did save everything? What if there was a reason MacHale, sensitive and sleeping, was able to put to pen the seals’ locations and protections? What if, somehow, in trying to protect the town through the lighthouse he stumbled upon how to protect the town from the monster beyond the gate he lived next to?
Could Peter choose not to act this time, knowing what came next was his fault?
A choice. Act, and possibly save or doom everyone. Don’t act, with the same possible results. How could he choose?
He thought about that mural, with the solid Sea and the light-show Land, that small figure under the Land, hands raised.
Maybe there was still more to the story.
Peter’s eyes snapped open. He stood up, and the arguing stopped. He faced his family. “I’m going outside,” he said.
Dad nodded. “Okay. Do you want anyone to go with you?”
Peter shook his head. “I’d like to look at the papers, though.”
“Sure.” Kai scrambled to his bag and handed Peter the folder with all the Atlantean scans and the poems.
Peter took them and headed outside. It was a cool night, not yet stormy. It was like the Sea was getting a good night’s sleep to be ready for the morning’s attack.
Peter sat on the curb and opened the folder. MacHale’s poems. Dad’s research. His mother’s discoveries, scanned and sent to Kai, marked up with Kai’s translations. How convenient.
There was that symbol Kai mentioned, the one that meant “sea” but also “twin.” And now they knew why. Peter picked up another scan and read the inscription by the almost-full moon.
“On the eve of summer gold, we met the being of stone and tree. Our liege is now encircled with light, and, in return, we receive bounty of sun.”
“Sun” was circled, with multiple meanings written next to it, from “strength” to “beauty,” but Peter was more interested in the phrase “encircled with light.” It reminded him of the mural in the cave, the little human figure under the creature.
Could that little human figure from the mural be that leader, that “liege”? It was covered with the light image of the Land. What did it mean?
Why was the Land rendered in light? Why wasn’t it physical like the depiction of the Sea? And what did this inscription mean when it said the writer’s leader was “encircled with light”?
Peter didn’t think it was anything good. After all, the Land had been bound with seven Atlantean seals, and you didn’t do that to friends. Yet the inscription didn’t say it was bad, either.
He picked up another page. This one was only partially translated. In Kai’s handwriting, Peter read, “In memory of the Shattered Isle, of the Schism, of the Flooding.” And that was it.
A eulogy or memorial? For Atlantis after it fell? The Schism could be the Land tearing the island apart, and the Flooding would have been the Sea’s attack.
The bed-and-breakfast door opened, and Kai stepped outside. “Hey,” he said.
Peter just waved the paper in greeting.
Kai sat next to Peter. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, I guess. It doesn’t hurt or anything.”
“Yeah, but don’t touch it.” Kai grabbed his knees. “You know, I was warned that this quest would have a cost.”
“I always knew it would. Maybe that’s why I was chosen.”
“Really? Because I was warned. Not you. It’s not fair.”
Peter shrugged and waved MacHale’s poems. “It’s like the riddle says. Will you reach for peace or truth? I set down my pen, the choice is yours.”
“Peace or truth,” Kai muttered derisively, but Peter was intrigued. He hadn’t thought about it like that.
Odd, that there was only the choice to reach. MacHale didn’t allow for sitting back, waiting. Maybe, in its own way, waiting was reaching. Making a choice by refusing to choose.
So what did he want? Did he want peace? Or truth? Which one would breaking the seal release?
And what would happen to him if he did it?
Peace or truth. Odd that they didn’t come together as a package deal. Maybe you couldn’t have truth and have it easy, too.
“I’m sorry,” Kai said. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gotten my blood on that hot dog, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Peter snorted. “If I hadn’t wiped my sweat on it, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“If I hadn’t gotten a hot dog in the first place.”
“If I hadn’t said, ‘Get up, Kai.’”
“If I hadn’t bloodied my nose.”
“If I hadn’t bloodied your nose.”
The boys grinned. “I guess we’re both guilty,” Kai said.
Peter laughed. “Well, we are twins. We share everything.”
Kai looked away. “Not everything.” Peter knew he was thinking of the seal.
It was weird, having to be the optimistic twin. Peter handed Kai one of the scans. “We still have time. Maybe there’s more to the story. What does this say?”
Kai took the paper. “It’s a tragedy,” he said, and tried to hand it back.
Peter didn’t take it. “But what does it say?”
Kai sighed. “‘In memory of the Shattered Isle, of the Schism, of the Flooding. May our families forgive us our greed, and may the gods forgive us our pride. The unworthy shall break upon the rocks as once the stones broke upon them.’ Real happy stuff.”
Peter thought. “The Sea mentioned greed, didn’t it? When we raised it.”
“Yeah, it said, ‘I had dreamed of humans who would not take back what they once gave so freely. Who would honor me, and what I could bring them, instead of giving in to their greed.’ Why?”
“Because it might be important. What happened to Atlantis? Why do the Atlanteans blame their greed and pride if the Sea and Land got into a poorly placed grudge match, like we think?”
Kai scratched his arm. “No idea. It doesn’t really fit.”
No, it didn’t. Once again, too many things didn’t add up for Peter. The creature depicted in light. This reference to greed, and another to pride. Atlantis fell so long ago that it was impossible to actually know what happened. The Sea might, but it was not going to answer any of their questions.
Peace or truth? The choice was Peter’s.
And amid the maelstrom of questions and confusion, Peter found the eye of the storm. In a moment, he knew what he had to do.
“Kai,” he said. “Do you trust me?”
Kai didn’t answer for a while. By the time Peter was about to ask again, Kai said, “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Break the last seal. I know you’re going to do it. We don’t know what will happen to you!”
“I know. But,” Peter said, “we’re not going to know. And I have to choose anyway.” His hand hovered over his chest. “If I don’t choose, I choose not to act. Not choosing is a choice.” He looked at his brother. “I choose this. Do you trust me?”
Kai’s mouth gaped, opening and closing. Then he looked at Peter’s shirt, hiding the seventh seal, and then at Peter’s face. Peter tried to look defiant.
It must have worked. “Yes,” Kai said. “I trust you. But I’m not letting you go alone. And promise me you’ll sleep on this. Don’t run off tonight without letting yourself think this over. And sleep with gloves on.”
Peter laughed. Odd that Kai was the one telling him to be cautious.
“Whatever you say. Well, good night, then.”
“I’ll bring these back in.” Kai gathered the folder of papers and stood up. “Good night.”
“See you in the morning.” Peter waited until Kai left, watching the moon and listening to the distant sound of waves. Then he went back inside.
When he told the family that he wanted to sleep, they moved their argument outside. Except for Kai. He was nowhere to be found.
Twins, one with the ability to read all languages, including Atlantean, and the other to open seals. They both had choices to make. Peter saw that now.
Peter didn’t have gloves, so after he set his alarm for early morning and climbed in bed, he put socks over his hands. He was more grateful than he thought he’d be for one more night of rest; he could put off thinking about the seal for a few more hours. But he’d made his decision. He didn’t know every angle, or if what he was about to do was right. He just knew that if he did anything else, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.
However long that may be.
CHAPTER 28
A PATTERN OF WATER
KAI
Kai was not giving up so easily. After he left Peter, he carried his papers back inside, heading to the empty bed-and-breakfast dining room.
The others spotted him as they came down the stairs. “Well?” Grandma said. “How is he?”
“He’s fine. For now.” Kai looked at Grandma.
Dad frowned at Kai. “You didn’t tell him to break the last seal, did you?”
“No! I told him to get some sleep. But I’m going to be up late. I have work to do so don’t bother me.”
Dad’s shoulders fell. “Are you sure? Maybe we can help.”
They couldn’t. “Can any of you read Atlantean? I have to do this alone.”
When they didn’t answer, like Kai knew they wouldn’t, he hiked the papers higher under his arm and went into the dining room.
Answers. He needed answers. They thought they needed to seal the Sea back with seven seals, but they were wrong. Now, they thought they were doomed either by Land or Sea, when Peter broke that last seal.
Why did Peter have to pay the price? It was Kai’s quest, and Kai was the one who wanted it. If anyone paid for this adventure, it should have been him. Now he was the only one escaping unscathed. All he could do was sit helplessly by as his twin broke the last, deadly seal.
No. He wouldn’t be helpless. He could still read and make a plan.
So he did.
Kai read the scans his mother sent him until his eyes ached. He heard Dad, Sophie, and Grandma finish their futile argument and go to bed, creaking up the stairs but mercifully not bothering him. He circled hieroglyphs that had multiple meanings and tried to figure out the message behind them.
A pattern. There was always a pattern. Here were the symbols that meant “sea” and “twin,” and another that meant “land” and also “twin.” They’d always been here; he just never saw it.
Why twins so much?
One message, down. But Kai also noticed a pattern of references to sunlight, usually discussed as something sacred or valuable. Did the Atlanteans love the sun that much? Was that a clue; could the sun save Peter? Or did it refer to something else? The only other word used next to “sacred” was “metal.” What if it wasn’t actual sunlight at all?
Kai’s head hurt from chasing the same dead-end ideas again and again, so he scowled, tossed the scans to the side, and pulled out MacHale’s poems. He tried to examine the last one, the one about the seventh seal, but it made his stomach knot, so he went back to the first one about Dogtown.
If land in common meets the sea,
And find ye path of trunk and tree,
What man has built, Mother sets free.
Inspired past and future see:
Mongrel town, lost history.
’Neath pine and boulder find the key
Then fire burn, and seeker flee.
Interesting, that rhyme scheme. At the end of every line, the exact same rhyme. And then there was the second poem:
Where sailors return with fishy tale
To sun’s shore from sacred wave,
Where crest glitters with golden scale,
And Charles Curtis failed to save,
Upon spectral boards and under sail
A song reverbs from watery grave
Let ocean roar, and woodwork fail.
And suddenly there was a second rhyme. In the first poem, every line rhymed with “sea.” But in this one, half the lines rhymed with “tale” and half with “wave.” Two rhyming sounds, instead of one. Why?
It was a pattern. He could feel it. There had to be a reason.
Every poem added another rhyming sound. One, then two, then three. To mark which poem it was? Seemed silly, when except for the seventh, all the other seals probably could have been found in any order.
No. There was another reason. With any pattern, you looked for what changed, and what repeated. The pattern of increasing rhymes repeated. But in each individual poem, the rhyme changed.
Looking at the second poem, Kai focused on the second line, where the rhyme switched from “tale” to “wave.” He read it again and again. Nothing seemed to be strange about it, except it was interesting how it mentioned the sea. “Sacred wave” and all that.
Hold on. Kai went back to the first poem. The first line of the first poem also mentioned the sea! First line, then second, and what about the third?
In metal ground is flood of flame,
Flood. Not the ocean, but still water. So, yes!
What about the fourth?
Returned stony press and the water’s test.
Water!
Kai continued with the fifth, sixth, and seventh:
Island mineral may river’s path stay.
Mind, though solid become sand without whole spring,
Once land may grow, but, too, more sea.
River, spring, and sea.
But why? Why include all these references to the sea, especially if the poems were about the seals binding the Land?
Because it stands out.
Kai felt like he was staring down off the Point into the water by the Spire, just inches away from an exhilarating plummet. In poems about land, the sea stands out. It’s meant to be noticed! Running his tongue over his chipped tooth, Kai quickly wrote down the words about the sea and water, from their corresponding lines.
“Sea, wave, flood, water, river, spring, sea.”
No pattern in that. At least, not that Kai could see. They were just words about water. “Sea” was repeated at the start and finish, but Kai wasn’t sure if that was meaningful. He decided to come back to that later.
What if these words weren’t important? What if they were markers for other words that were?
Kai went back to the first poem. “Meets the sea.” “Sea” ended that line. So the only other word that it could be pointing to was “the.”
“The” was a good start. So Kai tried the next word. “Sacred waves.”
“Sacred.” Kai’s eyes roamed to the scans. That word again. Another pattern!
The word before the water word. That was the key!
Kai wrote them down. “The sacred is the may whole more.”
That didn’t make much sense.
Perhaps it was another riddle. Kai sat, thinking, researching any possible multiple meanings for “sacred” and “whole,” looking for cross-references in the scans and their possible multiple meanings in Atlantean, just searching for some possible answer to this riddle, some conclusion that would stop the Sea, prevent the Land from rising, and save Peter.
