Atlantis in Peril Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Starstone.”
    â€œYes, Promi. It’s here.”
    He thought about the first time he’d held the Starstone. Resting in the palm of his hand, the magnificent crystal glowed with pure, pulsing light. At the same time, it filled him with its mysterious power, magnifying his own inner magic.
    For that was the Starstone’s gift. As the old priest Bonlo, whom Promi had met in the dungeon of Ekh Raku, first explained, this crystal did for magic what a magnifying glass did for images. It took simple magic and transformed that into something bigger—as well as far more rich and complex. So its very presence enhanced everything around it.
    That quality made the Starstone, quite simply, the most powerful object on Earth. Its power could be used for good—as it was now, deepening the natural magic of the Great Forest. Or it could be used for evil, becoming a weapon of unlimited destruction—which had been the goal of Grukarr and his master, the spirit warlord Narkazan.
    â€œBut where is it?” Promi asked. “I don’t see it anywhere.”
    Atlanta grinned. “Oh, it’s here on the island, all right. Just hidden from view.”
    He continued to scan Moss Island. Yet he saw nothing unusual—just lots of moss beneath their feet, the old willow, and the surrounding stream. Maybe, he thought, if it can’t be seen . . . it could still be
felt
.
    Closing his eyes, he remembered what he used to do as a Listener—
to hear the unheard,
in his sister Jaladay’s words. He felt grateful that, now that he’d become fully immortal, he no longer needed to make a sacrifice every time he tried to do it. In fact, Jaladay had told him that he still possessed all the ability to listen he’d had before, and that the power would never leave him.
    Even so . . . he hesitated. He hadn’t tried to use that power since Atlantis became an island. What if he’d forgotten how? What if he just couldn’t do it?
    Might as well try,
he told himself. The worst that could happen was he’d embarrass himself in front of Atlanta. And he’d already done that more times than he could count.
    Opening himself to the sounds all around, he listened. Not just with his ears, but with his bones. His blood. His innermost feelings.
    At first, he heard only the rushing stream. Then his own breathing, as well as Atlanta’s. Then their heartbeats. And then . . . the very gentle pulse of the faery’s heart.
    Meanwhile, Atlanta watched him intently. On her shoulder, Quiggley leaned forward.
    High overhead, Promi heard the steady flap of a bird’s wings. An egret, he felt sure. Seeking a fish to bring home to a nest of young ones.
    Then . . . a sound unlike any of the others. Both very near and far away, it seemed to beat like a heart, but with a resonance that echoed in all the living beings on the island. This deep, steady pulse echoed in himself, in Atlanta, in the tree—and even in the tufts of moss. As well as in the stream and in the ancient rocks on its banks.
    Slowly, keeping his eyes closed, Promi turned. The sound’s origin, its source, was calling. He could almost hear it.
    Almost.
    Stretching his listening to the limit, he caught hold of the sound.
There,
he told himself at last.
Over there.
    He opened his eyes. With a certainty he couldn’t explain, he stepped over to the willow tree. Kneeling by its roots, he lay his hand on one especially gnarled, moss-covered root.
    â€œHere,” he said quietly. “The Starstone is buried under here.”
    â€œYes!” Atlanta rushed over and kneeled beside him. “I asked the tree to keep and protect it. To hide the crystal away—and never to release it unless Atlantis is in terrible, terrible danger. And that root lifted out of the ground, grasped the crystal, and carried it deep underground.”
    As they stood, she gave him a smirk. “Not bad for a pie