Dear Diary: A Pokemon Black Storylocke, Part 46

We are relatively unharmed. Yet this may prove to be my last entry in this, the diary which I gave to Prima so long ago; the book brimming with nostalgia and her scent and gentleness. They have taken us from our trainer, and I do not know where he is. They may take us from our poke balls, and they may take my diary as well. I try to find the strength to fight on. Yet the fear that I will lose the record of my fall and my return, as well as all the words which gentle Prima placed on the page, fills me with dread. I hope that we can escape and find our way…

A few days after Caitlyn’s clandestine meeting with Lillil and me, Blair finally recovered. His mood was not improved by his illness, but the cold did not sap his grim determination, either. Say what you will about Blair, but he is not easily beaten down.

Southeastern Unova—that being Nacrene, Striaton, Accumula, Nuvema, Pinwheel, the Dreamyard, and all the rest—sit on a snug peninsula which juts out into the ocean like a tooth. The peninsula is actually contiguous with eastern and north-east Unova (everything between Black City and the Village Bridge, including my native Lacunosa) but an incredible array of rugged, nigh-impassible badlands stretch for dozens of miles between Black City and the portion we call home. Since Skyarrow Bridge was constructed, it’s far easier to go via Castelia instead. Had the badlands proved to yield some valuable resource, an enterprising company may have tried to tame them as Lanville did Twist Mountain; but they are barren to the bone, and so humanity leaves them untouched.

Accumula is right up against the ocean, the city’s edge only a few distant miles from the lapping waves of the sea. The beaches there are secondary to the main sight—a towering cliff face of pale stone, reaching over a hundred meters high in places, stretching for miles along the coastline. Accumula is situated along the top.

Beyond these famous cliffs are a series of rocky islands, and it was to this archipelago that Blair brought us.

Strange to think that Team Plasma’s base was so close to Nuvema all along. It makes sense strategically, I suppose—the archipelago affords them considerable isolation, and it is possibly the farthest spot in the region from the League’s headquarters. It was also in Accumula, the nearest town, that N first made himself known. But the cozy, small-town feel of Nuvema and Accumula, and the idyllic Route 1 which stretches between them… it seems at odds with N’s mania and the thought of secret army hiding mere miles out to sea.

Blair knew Team Plasma was hiding somewhere among these islands, but he did not know the specifics, and so he searched. To do so, he recalled Cenn, Lillil, and Dusk—one of the few occasions when he’s withdrawn multiple pokemon for a long period of time—and had Laguna and I take turns ferrying him from island to island. Dreamtide fluttered protectively overhead all the while.

We searched for the better part of a day, each island proving fruitless. Many were barely half a mile long, if even that, and filled with skittish wild pokemon which had not seen a trainer in quite some time. The few humans we did meet were mainly hermits, suspicious old folk who gave Blair shifty eyes but did not move to stop him. Perhaps when they saw us, they knew this was a trainer with pokemon a cut above the usual grade.

When night hit, we’d traveled to just shy of a dozen islands. Blair was sour but determined—he realized we had not touched even a third of the archipelago, most likely—and after releasing the other three pokemon, he retired.

As the night whiled away, we pokemon gathered together and spoke. Laguna and Dusk raised objections that we might be being led on a wild chase, but Dreamtide was adamant otherwise.

“N-is-near. Dream-can-sense. Lord-can-too. Sense-his-smell. On-the-wind.”

“His smell?” Dusk asked, her voice doubtful.

“I’m pretty sure they just mean that as a metaphor,” Lillil countered. “Right?”

Dreamtide nodded. “Yes. Hard-to-say. What-is-like. But. We-can-feel. Feel-N-near. He-is-here. In-the-sea.”

“But what’s the point?” asked Cenn. His massive body curled a semicircle around the rest of us. “Even if we do find N, so what? He made it abundantly clear in Chargestone that he has no intention of fighting Blair anymore until the ‘promised day,’ whatever that is. And everyone who knows what’s really happening seems to agree that Blair and N have to fight in the final battle. So if you subscribe to this destiny idea, then there’s no real reason that Blair is going there.”

“That’s awfully circular thinking,” Lillil said, giving her boyfriend a playful shove. “We shouldn’t go there because it’s destined—but the fact that we subscribe to ‘destiny’ makes it come about into the first place!”

“Most of the time, taking about fate and destiny is iffy. But I think we’re in special circumstances.” After replying he leaned over and gave the flower atop her head a tiny, playful nip. She blushed and shoved him away.

“There-was-dream. Dream-from-fire,” said Dreamtide.

“That’s right. Blair didn’t come here on his own—Reshiram sent him, like it sent him after Cobalion and Virizion,” I said. “Why, then? Dreamtide, do you know?”

They managed an elegant shrug, considering their complete lack of arms or, for that matter, any limbs that weren’t skeletal wings. “Dream-knows-not. Fire-tells-Dream. Says-to-go. But-not-why.”

I sighed, though perhaps I shouldn’t have. Dreamtide was given orders from Reshiram and they followed them without knowing why. Of course.

“Even if we don’t fight N—and I’d rather we didn’t,” said Lillil, “we can still probably mess up his plans. Storm the base, beat his followers, that sort of thing. That’s bound to help.”

“Maybe.” Cenn stood and stretched. The small fire—kindled with Dusk’s help—made shadows play against his carapace. “Or maybe Reshiram’s reasons are their own, and we just have to along with them.”

He studiously avoided Dreamtide’s gaze, but I caught a few guilty shifts from Dusk and Lillil. It was hard to deal with the fact that we were keeping our ally in the dark. But we couldn’t risk them knowing about Caitlyn and Kyurem, especially not while we’re still trying to parse out our own feelings and thoughts on the manner.

The fleeting looks of guilt were only momentary—there and gone, like a dream. You never would have noticed unless you knew about it. Still… it took me a little longer to fall asleep that night. And I expect it did the others as well.

Maybe we should have told them. Maybe…

The following day was stormy again. I worried about Blair getting drenched and sick again, but thankfully the fiercest rain was happy to break further out to sea. The water still speckled our faces, though, and without the blue sky beaming down on it, the sea was like slate. The wind whipped the waves into a perpetual fulcrum.

After a few more hours of fruitless searching, something loomed on the horizon. It was a massive, bleak outcropping of rock. I hesitate to call it an “island”—though certainly larger than many of the islands we’d visited thus far, it had no flat beaches, nor was there any trace of greenery or hospitability. It was like a barren mountaintop suddenly transported to the ocean—a massive citadel of slick brown stone which dared any enterprising person or pokemon to try themselves. Only a few bird pokemon nesting on its cliff faces gave it the pantomime of life.

We moved to another, smaller island, the titanic stone eyesore sneering at us from the corner of our vision—when suddenly Blair turned to it, his eyes narrowing. Wordlessly, he urged Laguna (she had the dubious honor of carrying him at that point) away from our current path and towards the mountain instead.

“What’s he doing?” Laguna complained as we coasted along. “Just look at that place! It’s a mound of solid stone! There’s no way anything’s there.”

Realization dawned on me. “A place people dismiss at first sight? Sounds like the perfect place to go if you don’t want to be found.”

She looked disquieted but didn’t say more.

As we approached the island, my suspicions rose even higher. For one thing, the number of aquatic pokemon nearby thinned significantly. Most of the pokemon had left us alone, recognizing that we were human-trained pokemon traveling in a group three-strong, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. They simply ducked out of our way and went back to what they were doing when we passed. Not so, near the island; the sea became barren, almost eerily so.

The next was the taste of the water. It was a small thing—something no human would ever notice. In fact, I doubt even a non-Water-type pokemon might tell the difference. But there was an ozone-like, almost metallic tang that suddenly infused the sea. Laguna keened to it the same time I did, her eyes meeting mine in recognition. We both knew.

We got even closer to the island (its sheer size belied just how far away it was; it took us a fair bit of swimming) and that’s when things went crazy.

A Psychic-type pokemon abruptly materialized in front of us, a Beeheeyem with a dusty brown body and a too-large head. His many eyes lit up in warning and he pointed at us, screaming a wordless alarm.

More pokemon suddenly appeared, all Psychic-types hovering a few feet above the water. They surrounded us in a pentagram formation. As they gathered energy, Dreamtide and I readied for the offense while Laguna prepared to shield Blair. Five-on-one odds be damned, they were going to regret taking on a Water-type in the middle of the ocean.

But then the Basculin came for us.

I can handle one, or two, or even five—but twenty? Twenty of the little freaks, while Dreamtide surged overhead, frantically shielding me from a five-pronged psychic assault? It was madness. I churned the water, summoning my inner energy and bending it to my will, but they were Water-types too, and it did little more than inconvenience them. I loosed my blades but swinging them in liquid just wasn’t the same, and I only had two blades while they had dozens of biting mouths.

Their mouths gripped my fur, yanking some of it free, and sometimes a ragged tooth would scrape against my skin. The tiny stream of crimson that ensued incited them into a frenzy, which made them grow more and more frantic—eventually it escalated to the point where they didn’t even register any of my hits, so wild was their bloodlust.

Dreamtide fared little better. I don’t doubt they could have taken any one of those paltry psychics on in a one-on-one fight, but the combined salvo was too much for them to bear. More than once I saw their shield falter, resulting in them getting punched by a beam of energy. For her part, Laguna tried to help, but was hampered by her need to protect Blair. The few shots of water she got off against the gang of Psychic-types weren’t enough to restore momentum to our side, and her Ground moves were useless here—the seabed was far beneath us, and messing with it might create a wave that would sallow Blair whole or knock him into the bloodthirsty shoal of Basculin.

Blair’s face was a mixture of shock and fury. He barked out commands—mainly at Dreamtide, leaving me to fend for the Basculin—but even his best strategies couldn’t cope with such a lopsided numbers game. He fingered the other poke balls on his belt, itching to let them free, but couldn’t. The Basculin might well drag Cenn and Lillil down to drown, and while Dusk could float, a single errant splash onto her flame and she’d be out. We’d torn through masses of Plasma pokemon as a group before, but never missing half our crew!

The Beeheeyem scored a shot past Dreamtide, aimed straight at Blair. Laguna took the blow, grunting, and that’s when the distant roar hit me. I turned and saw a flotilla of Plasma speedboats heading our way. Flanking them were more Water-types, while a small army of flying pokemon shrieked overhead. I gasped—I’d never seen this many Plasma pokemon out in force in my life except back in Twist Mountain, and there the bulk of their attentions there were on the workers and the League battlers.

As the boats drew closer the Plasma goons raised up a massive cry, and I saw even more pokemon accompanying their trainers in the crafts, pokemon like Gurdurr and Krookodile and Liepard and Garbodor. They weren’t swimmers or flyers, but I paled when I realized that we now faced well over a hundred enemy pokemon. Laguna looked frightened as well.

At the foremost boat was a stern-looking old man with a grown-grey mustache and antiquated clothing. “You have not even tasted the might of Plasma. More are on their way. Surrender or be crushed!” he commanded.

And though I’m sure it hurt him more than anything he had ever done in his life, Blair surrendered.

At his surrender I sheathed my blades and the Basculin backed away, though some looked disheartened that they couldn’t continue tasting my blood. Laguna paddled over to me, wary. Only Dreamtide kept up the resistance.

They surged through the air, forming barriers as soon as they were shot down and taking errant potshots at the enemy psychics. Blair ordered them to stand down but for what may have been the first time ever, Dreamtide flat-out disobeyed him. They were a whirling, desperate engine of combat, putting up a fight despite the fact that they were hopelessly outnumbered. Blair snarled a command again and was ignored, and as the old man’s face darkened and the Dark-types in the boats readied themselves, he fumbled out a poke ball and recalled the Sigilyph.

At that, Laguna took him over to the boat. A pair of rough hands grabbed him and threw him unceremoniously into the back. “Recall your other pokemon,” the main said, and though he looked murderous at being given orders, Blair did.

I was inside my poke ball for a little over a half hour; when I was released it was in a soulless, grey room that smelled sterile, like a hospital. A small army of Plasma grunts, each accompanied by at least one pokemon, lined the room. Before I knew what was happening, I was hit with a series of Thunder Wave attacks, the accumulated effects bringing me to my knees. I could barely move. My friends appeared to be the same way, except Laguna, who was wrapped tight by a series of thick vines instead.

Leading the affair was the old man, as well as a familiar-looking face. “—just missed Lord N, I’m afraid,” said Cheren, the ghost of a smirk playing on his features. “He’ll be so sad to learn he wasn’t here to catch you. Send word to his destination,” he told a grunt standing nearby. “When he arrives he’ll likely want to come back right away. Pity we’ve never managed to get him to commit to an Xtransceiver… it makes it so hard to get ahold of him when he’s riding one of our bird pokemon.”

“The pokemon are not in fault,” the mustached man said. “Simply tools of our real enemy.”

Cheren looked at us and his mouth thinned. Perhaps he was remembering how Crown and I had fought almost to the death back in Twist Mountain. “I suppose so. Imprison the five of them and slate them for forced release. They’re all powerful battlers, so we can try running them through the deprogramming regimen to get them on our side… though I have my doubts. Our Lord N will have final say, of course, and I expect he may make exceptions regarding our usual course of action for this motley crew.”

“Only the five of them?” asked the older man. “Ah… you mean the Sigilyph?”

“Precisely.” Cheren adjusted his glasses, the action so routine I doubted he realized he was doing it. “That thing’s been nothing but trouble since this idiot first awakened it. It’s a direct link between this fool and the dragon of flame… I think it’s best we sever that link, don’t you?”

Dreamtide twitched underneath their paralysis, the patterns on their body shifting from red to green to blue to pink to grey to white to yellow all in an instant. I could almost hear their panic.

Of course. Plasma served N, and N served Zekrom. Dreamtide was the thrall of Zekrom’s ancient enemy. No wonder Dreamtide had fought back so desperately, even defying Blair… they knew what surrender meant.

“I am reluctant.” The old man stroked his mustache in contemplation. “Hold it specially and wait for our Lord N to give final say?”

Cheren shook his head. “No. Not for this one. Too dangerous. Lord N has personally sought its destruction before. We do not wait for his return.”

“But…”

“I will bear the consequences should they appear. And besides… they smashed Lord N’s guide, did they not?” Cheren’s smile was very, very small—and very cruel. “Tit-for-tat, as they say.”

They separated us, taking Blair one way, Dreamtide another, and us a third. I fought to struggle against them, to at least say something to assuage or comfort Dreamtide… but the paralysis was too strong. I could not even say goodbye.

It’s late now, and the paralysis has worn off. The five of us have been quiet, none of us giving voice to the horror which weighs on our mind. Dreamtide…

Have they already destroyed them? I tremble at the thought. Not them. Please, not them. I don’t care if they serve Reshiram. I don’t care if we were keeping secrets.

Dreamtide is my friend.

Tomorrow we are slated for forced release from Blair’s poke balls, and then “reprogramming.” I’m scared. I’m scared that when I go through that tunnel it might not be Opal who comes out the other side.

I don’t want to be a zealot. I don’t want to be N’s tool. I want to be me.

Please, don’t let this be my last entry. Please…