Alcatraz Versus the Scrivener's Bones

Age, I thought. They tell me how old something is—the boards were created and put there long ago. The pouch was made recently.

I frowned to myself. Why couldn’t he have left me another pair of Firebringer’s Lenses? True, I’d broken the first pair—but that sort of thing tended to happen a lot around me.

The thing is, Grandpa Smedry tended to place little value on offensive Lenses. He thought information was a far better weapon.

Personally, I felt that being able to shoot superheated beams of light from your eyes was more useful than being able to tell how old something was. But I figured I would take what I was given.

I left the hut, walking over to the others, who were talking about Australia’s discovery. They looked up as I approached, waiting for me again, like they had before.

Waiting for leadership.

Why look to me? I thought with annoyance. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t even want to be in charge.

“Lord Smedry,” Draulin said, “should we wait for your grandfather, or should we go in after him?”

I glanced down at the pouch and was annoyed to find that the strings had unraveled as I was walking. My Talent, acting up again. “I don’t know,” I said.

The others looked at one another. That hadn’t been the response they’d been expecting.

Grandpa Smedry obviously wanted me to lead the group down into the library. But what if I gave the order to go down below, and something went wrong? What if someone got hurt or got captured? Wouldn’t that be my fault?

But what if my father and Grandpa Smedry really needed help?

That’s the problem with being a leader. It’s all about choices—and choices are never very much fun. If someone gives you a candy bar, you’re excited. But if someone offers you two different candy bars and tells you that you can only have one, what then? Whichever one you take, you’ll feel that you missed out on the other one.

And I like candy bars. What about when you have to choose between two terrible things? Did I wait, or lead my group down into danger? That was like having to choose to eat either a tarantula or a bunch of tacks. Neither option is very appealing—both make you sick to your stomach, and both are tough to choke down without catsup.

Personally, I like it much better when someone else does the decision making. That way you have legitimate grounds to whine and complain. I tend to find both whining and complaining quite interesting and amusing, though sometimes—unfortunately—it’s hard to choose which one of the two I want to do.

Sigh. Life can be so tough sometimes.

“I don’t want to make that decision,” I complained. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“You’re the lead Oculator, Lord Smedry,” Draulin said.

“Yeah, but I’ve only known about Oculators for three months!”

“Ah, but you’re a Smedry,” Kaz said.

“Yes, but…” I trailed off. Something was wrong. The others looked at me, but I ignored them, focusing on what I was feeling.

“What’s he doing?” Australia whispered. By now she’d gone back to looking like her old self, though her hair was a bit messy from sleep.

“I don’t know,” Kaz whispered back.

“Do you think that last comment was him swearing?” she whispered. “Hushlanders like to talk about posteriors.…”

He was coming.

I could feel it. Oculators can sense when other Oculators are using Lenses nearby. It’s something built into us, like our ability to activate Lenses.

The sense of wrongness I felt, it was like that of someone activating a Lens. But it was twisted and dark. Frightening.

It meant someone was activating a Lens nearby that had been created in a terrible way. The hunter had found us. I spun, searching out the source of the feeling, causing the others to jump.

There he was. Standing atop a hill a short distance away, one arm too long for his body, staring down at us with his twisted face. All was silent for a moment.

Then he began to run.

Draulin cursed, whipping out her sword.

“No!” I said, sprinting toward the hut. “We’re going in!”

Draulin didn’t question. She just nodded, waving for the others to go first. We dashed across the ground, Kaz pulling out a pair of Warrior’s Lenses and slipping them on. His speed immediately increased, and he was able to keep up with us despite his short legs.

I reached the hut, waving Kaz and Australia inside. Bastille had taken a detour and was in the process of grabbing one of the packs.

“Bastille!” I yelled. “There isn’t time!”

Draulin was backing toward us; she glanced at Bastille, then at the Scrivener’s Bone. He had crossed half the distance to us, and I saw something flash in his hand. A line of whitish blue frost shot from it toward me.

I yelped, ducking into the hut. The structure shook as the burst of cold hit it, and one wall started to freeze.

Bastille skidded in a second later. “Alcatraz,” she said, puffing. “I don’t like this.”