Chapter Thirty: From
Shattered
MacIan’s hidden study was silent save for the dry scratch of pen on paper and the occasional rustle of turning pages. The traitorous ancient man was up to something big. Jadeite was certain of it. But unfortunately, MacIan hadn’t felt like bragging and laughing maniacally about his plans for the past several days. From the occasional ranting and cursing sessions, the trapped Earth Guardian had gathered that Cassandra and the possessed Knight Protectors were not cooperating like the old so-and-so had wanted. Good for them. Now if only MacIan would be so kind as to explain the plot to him, he could break out of this giant ice cube and get back to the real world. Sunlight, cool breezes, trees, people, water, food. Oh, how good a meal would be right now. As the magics that imprisoned him slowly broke down, so did the ones sustaining his body, leaving him increasingly hungry, thirsty, and weak.
‘Nothing would make me feel more alive than a humongous steak, a glass of wine, and a gorgeous woman to feed them to me,’ he thought longingly. ‘Uh-oh, MacIan-my-mother-doesn’t-love-me is getting up. Go on and leave, you bastard. Holding this illusion together is really draining, ya know.’
To Jadeite’s trepidation, the ex-chancellor didn’t leave the chamber. He walked toward the prison crystal and leaned against it contemplatively.
**Do you mind?** Jadeite projected, **You’re blocking my view of the floor.**
MacIan did not denign to answer. “I do believe that is the answer,” he mused aloud, “She has the next best blood right to the blasted thing. All I have to do is convince her to summon that damned priest. He’ll have no choice but to relinquish the relic. Once Cassandra has it in hand, she can summon the Archives and then,” unholy glee flickered to life in his dead eyes, “then the secrets of the Talismans will be mine.” He straightened up and allowed his physical form to begin to unravel into a shifting cloud of energy. “It will most likely kill the royal bitch,” his voice laughed from within the cloud, “but Cassandra has grown tiresome anyway. Perhaps I’ll seal her into crystal stasis. Would you like a friend, Jadeite? You’d make a handsome pair of bookends.” A bony hand materialized from the cloud to pat Jadeite’s crystal prison mockingly. “What’s this?” A second skeletal hand joined the first to trace along the crystalline surface. Jadeite cursed silently. The illusion he had cast to make the decaying crystal seem whole could not fool direct touch. MacIan resumed physical form and peered closely at the crystal. Luckily, he had moved his hand from the crack he had inadvertently touched, but his groping hands were inching toward it. Jadeite gathered his strength, scant though it was, to fight if his secret was discovered. He could not face the thought of MacIan renewing his prison, trapping him forever within unfeeling stone.
The ancient man suddenly jerked back as if stung. Anger and hatred transformed his face into something demonic. “She is free! How is the blackest hells of despair did she do that?” he snarled. MacIan disappeared, curses of the foulest sort hanging in the air for several heartbeats after he was gone.
Jadeite heaved a mental sigh of relief. ‘That was as close a call as I ever want to have.’ Guardian dropped the illusion masking the failing crystal. ‘And unless I want a closer one, I’d better get the hell out of here!’ He focused his power and his will on the widest crack and ‘leaned’ into it. The crystal groaned and shuddered and gave just a touch, just enough that he could shift his weight. The crack held for an eternal instant before giving with a sound like a gunshot. Jadeite tumbled to the floor among shards of his prison. “Gaia be praised,” he whispered, reveling in the feeling of air in his lungs and the gritty floor beneath his trembling hands. With a great deal of effort, he levered himself to his feet and stumbled toward the exit. “I hope there is a teleportation point somewhere near here or this’ll be the shortest escape in history.”
*****
Malachite
and Nephrite were bounding from rooftop to rooftop on their way to the
“What do
you think, Mike? Should we go ahead and
go to the
“I doubt there’s much we can do for Raye. I say we head over to the Whitmores’.” Mike suited action to words and headed in that direction. Nathaniel fell in step with him. “I hope we can find a way to end this war soon. If nothing else, it’s screwing up my class work, not to mention my social life.”
“What social life would that be, fearless leader?” Nate mocked lightly. “I’m your roommate remember. I know exactly what your ‘social life’ has been like.” He smiled broadly and laid a companionable arm across Michael’s shoulders. “Of course, now that you have that lovely young thing making puppy dog eyes at you when she isn’t beating you black and blue on the practice mat, I guess that social life is going to pick up.”
Michael glared at his friend. “And what do you mean by that?”
“Oh, come on, Mike! Zoë obviously has the hots for you. She’s cute, eligible and willing, not to mention that the two of you have some heavy cosmic past life history going for you.” Nate shook his head solemnly and added, “There is obviously no reason at all for you to ask her out.”
The silver haired young man grinned weakly in spite of himself. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” They continued on through the increasingly thick foot traffic in silence for half a block. “Well, at least Zoë’s not jail bait, unlike a certain auburn haired girl.”
Nathaniel
grimaced. “Don’t remind me. I’d ask her out in a
heartbeat, but I don’t want to be arrested.
I don’t know how
“Dumb luck?” Mike offered.
“Or the general blindness people in this burg seem to have to the weirdness of our lives. I mean, no one seem to be overly upset by youma attacks, freakish people floating in midair, not to mention teenage girls in cheerleader uniforms with superpowers.” A portal opened directly in front of them. A blonde haired man fell out at Nathaniel’s feet. “Point in fact,” he muttered, staring down at the crumpled person currently kissing the ground fervently.
Michael poked the man with the tip of his
shoe. “Can we help you?” Somehow, he didn’t
feel threatened by him even though the man had fallen out of a
The man rolled over onto his back and stared up at them. “Oh, glorious day! I don’t suppose you good fellows would know where I could find Prince Endymion of Earth?”
Nathaniel and Michael exchanged a quick glance and both offered a hand to the man. He accepted their help. The two Guardians yanked him to his feet, clamped hard hands onto his arms and hustled him into a nearby alley.
The man was not amused when they slammed him none to gently up against a wall. “Great,” he growled, “Out of a giant ice cube and into the freezer. Look, if you want to rob me, my fine young footpads, let me assure you, I do not have so much as a copper piece to my name.”
“We’re not thieves,” Mike said. His eyes glowed briefly silver as power washed over him.
“But that doesn’t mean you’re not in for a world of hurt,” Nate added. A stiff wind lifted his chestnut locks as his street clothes shifted into his uniform.
The man glanced back and forth between the Guardians. His face lit up and his blue eyes sparkled with relief. “Malachite! Nephrite! Damn, I’m glad to see you!” He squirmed free from their restraining hand and launched himself forward to wrap their necks in an enthusiastic hug.
“Um,” Nephrite sputtered, “Do we know you?”
The man pulled away a few steps to stare up into his old friends’ eyes. The lack of recognition in them tore at his heart. He had never considered that they wouldn’t know him. “It’s me, how can you not know me?” He watched as confusion followed swiftly by the glassy-eyed expression of resurfacing memories flowed across their faces.
“Jadeite?” Nephrite said tentatively as if he was afraid it wasn’t true. Jadeite nodded, grinning hugely. The three Guardians exchanged manly, backslapping, laughter filled hugs.
Upon realizing that they had attracted the attention of about a dozen five year olds, Malachite pulled back. He cleared his throat gruffly and said, “Let’s go.” With a flying leap onto a nearby fire escape, he led the way onto the rooftops.
“Yes, let us be on our way to meet with our prince. I must report to Endy,” Jadeite said. He patted his growling stomach as he trotted along behind his commander, weaving a bit from the weakness that still clung to him. “And I must find nourishment. Do you fellows know where I can find an inn with a fine kitchen and sympathetic serving wenches?”
Nephrite laughed, “Inns and serving wenches? Not in this century! By the way, what is your name?”
Jadeite paused on the edge of a department store’s sign. “My name? It is the same as it has ever been: Jadeite of Fern’s Glen.”
“Not your Silver Millennium name, your present name,” Nephrite clarified. “I’m Nathaniel Hawthorne.” He waved a hand toward Malachite. “And he’s Michael Silvers.”
Jadeite
looked back and forth between them, a sudden harsh understanding flickering to
life in his blue eyes. “I see. This is truly a new world and you are new
people entirely.” His gaze flickered
across the
Malachite’s brow wrinkled with puzzlement but he nodded any way. “We’re not far from the Whitmore’s now anyway.” He pulled his communicator watch from his pocket. “I’ll call in the rest of the gang. They should arrive soon after Mrs. Whitmore has finished stuffing you with whatever she’s been cooking up for the meeting tonight.”
Nephrite grinned and thumped Jadeite’s shoulder. “Mrs. Whitmore loves to feed us. I haven’t eat so well since I left home.”
“You didn’t eat that well at home, Nate,” Malachite said, “Remember the last time you invited me over to your parents’ house?”
“Hey, you were only sick for two day afterwards. Most of the time Mom’s cooking knocks people out for at least a week.”
*****
“I thank
you, Goodwife Whitmore, for a most welcome meal,” Jadeite said as he chased the
last pea around his plate. As soon as he
and the other two male Guardians had entered the Whitmore home, Alexis Whitmore
had been fussing over him, insisting that he eat a large meal and that the
others wait to hear his report. The
blonde haired, blue-eyed Guardian snagged her hand as she hurried by once more
to fetch something for the kitchen. He
pressed a kiss to the back of her trembling hand and stared up into her tear
stained face. “Do not grieve so, fair
lady. The Cassandra and Christaphin I knew long ago were exceptionally strong
people. I have no doubt their present incarnations
are equally as strong. They will return
to you.” Alexis Whitmore gave him a
wavering, thankful smile before pulling free to hurry onto some errand. Jadeite put his dishes with the others in the
sink and turned to face his prince.
Endymion, no
“It’s just
plain old
“As you
say, En…
Jadeite grinned roguishly, “Why not conserve space by having your Serena sit in your lap?” His grin widened. “I would be most happy to lend my knee to a buxom lass.”
The former prince blushed brightly and laughed. “I bet you would, Jade. You’d have two buxom lasses if you thought you could get away with it.”
The
Guardian placed a hand over his heart.
“You wound me to the core. To
think I would be happy with only two fair maids!”
The frantic ringing of the front door bell heralded the arrival of the Sailor Scouts, Zoë and Grandpa Hino. After a round of introductions, Grandpa Hino insisted on being allowed to place spirit wards and blessings all through the house. Mrs. Whitmore led him off to set up as many protections as the old priest could think of. An uncomfortable silence settled over the den as everyone waited for someone to say something.
Jadeite rose from his seat on the couch, drawing all eyes to him. He clasped his hands behind his back, feet braced slightly apart. His voice, unlike his nerves was steady as he said, “I knew the lot of you once upon a time and no matter what has changed since that time, I know that sitting quietly is not a normal occupation for this group.” Nervous laughter answered his words. While he doubted they were as unsettled as he was, he knew they were upset by his appearance and more importantly by the loss of whatever ‘life’ he had had in this century before Queen Beryl had begun her second attempt to conquer all. Without any link to this time, he felt lost, cut a drift on a hostile sea. The feeling was only heightened by looking into all of those familiar eyes and seeing very unfamiliar thoughts roiling behind them. “Perhaps you would like to ask me something, tell me something,” his eyes settled on Serena’s face, the only one that seemed completely open and accepting, “give me a hint as to my role in this place.”
Serena smiled sadly up at him, but it was Andrew who answered. The arcade guy was seated on the hearth of the silent fireplace, slowly rubbing a polishing cloth up and down a naked blade. “Why?” Andrew’s dead voice asked from within an expressionless face, “I want to know why MacIan is doing this.”
Jadeite shook his head sorrowfully. “I cannot tell you why, my friend. No one but MacIan himself could answer that, I believe. But I can tell you what he wants.” He shivered as he remembered the cold purpose MacIan had held to for as long as he could remember his time within the crystal. “The Chancellor wants the Great Archives. He will make Cassandra pull the Archives to this plane and probably at least part of the way to Earth.”
“The Archives?” Zoë asked, “Why the hell would he go through all this trouble to get hold of a giant library?”
“Because of the knowledge contained within there?” Amy ventured to answer.
“That is not it, or rather not specific enough,” Perseus added from his cushion in the corner. The feeble mooncat had been spending most of his time recently lying quietly on the cushion as if he was slowly losing his purpose with Cassandra gone. “That, that traitor must be after Hidden Room, the one chamber in the archives that could only be accessed by the Queen of Athena or one who has her permission.”
Jadeite paled to a sickly hue. “By the gods,” he whispered, “I should have thought of that. But surely Cassandra wouldn’t give him the passwords and gestures for the Hidden Room.”
“If he has enough control over her to compel her to commit virtual suicide by summoning the Archives in the first place, I’m certain that he get the access he needs,” Perseus contradicted.
Serena winced at the word suicide, but asked her burning question anyhow. “What’s in this Hidden Room thing?”
“Secrets, Your Highness,” Jadeite said, pulling himself back together
with difficulty, “the secret spells and precise directions for making many
things.” He glanced at Alex, Michelle,
and Victoria. “The Talismans,” his
glance flicked to Amy, “Mercury’s Computer.” Blue eyes met blue as he and
Serena stared at one another. “The Silver Imperium