The Nibiru Effect

by G Sauvé

  The king’s gaze darts around the room. Seeing this makes my skin crawl, but it’s not until his dermis turns a bright shade of purple—the colour of power and strength—that I understand why. By then, it’s already too late.

  King Kanto whistles and a dozen heavily-armed guards rush into the throne room.

  I stare at the incoming guards in disbelief. So does Kara. Only Jonn reacts. He lunges forward, but King Kanto has already retreated beyond his reach.

  Within seconds, my companions and I are surrounded and helplessly outnumbered. Jonn and Kara may be skilled fighters, but there’s no doubt in my mind we’re outmatched. Jonn must have come to the same conclusion because he drops his knife and raises his arms in surrender.

  “It seems the tables have turned,” says King Kanto as he strides toward us. The guards part to let him through, but keep their spears aimed at us in case one of us decides to make a move.

  Jonn remains silent, but I can tell he would like nothing more than to wrap his hands around the arkane’s flabby neck and squeeze until the ruler’s wheezy breaths cease. Kara, on the other hand, is surprisingly calm.

  “I don’t understand,” she says. “What did the woman want from you in exchange for saving your daughter?”

  King Kanto smiles.

  “She foretold your arrival. She warned me you would try to kill me. All I had to do was capture you and deliver you to her.”

  I cringe. That was precisely what I was afraid of. Not only did my companions and I fail to find a cure for the plague, but we also miscarried our original mission, which was to find Avalon and put her out of commission once and for all. The odds of us ever making it back to our respective times are now so slim they might as well be inexistent.

  Fortunately for us, Kara hasn’t given up hope.

  “Avalon—the woman who saved your daughter’s life—is the one who released the plague in the first place,” she says. “We’re trying to stop her. If we succeed, we can help cure all who are infected and everyone, including your daughter, will be safe.”

  King Kanto considers her proposal for a moment before shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it. The woman said she would kill my daughter if I disobeyed.”

  “She lied,” says Jonn.

  “It’s possible,” admits the king, “but I love my daughter too much to risk it. I will do as I promised and pray I never see any of you again.”

  He turns and walks off, the circle or armed arkanes closing behind him. He slowly scales the steps leading to his throne and takes a seat. He studies us for a moment longer, then dismisses us with a wave of the hand.

  “Take them away,” he orders.

  The circle of guards constricts until all I can see are arms, legs, and spears. Powerful hands grab my wrists and force them behind my back, binding them together. Moments later, we’re being dragged away. It’s only a matter of time before we’re delivered to Avalon. I’m not sure what she plans on doing with us, but whatever it is, it will be bad. Very bad.

  Memory 55

  W e’re screwed.

  The thought repeats over and over in my head as Jonn, Kara, and I are escorted out of the palace. There are only two guards, but both are armed, and my companions and I are bound. It doesn’t help that our jailers stand behind us with their spears pointed at our backs, ready to skewer us at the first sign of trouble.

  Only one thing stands between us and certain death.

  Korri.

  Our hopes of rescue go from slim to none when we pass the alley where we left the small korrigan and his arkane captive and find it deserted. I don’t know what happened to Korri, but his disappearance bodes ill for us.

  It’s with a sense of defeat that we’re led through the city. We eventually reach the front gate and emerge into a familiar grassy plain. I can’t help thinking of that poor arkane girl we encountered upon our arrival. Her body is gone, no doubt taken away by her mourning family, but the memory of her agonizing death is still fresh in my mind. I’m tempted to let the pain and sorrow fuel my hunger for revenge, but I know an escape attempt will most likely result in death. The safest course of action is to wait and hope for a miracle.

  Our captors direct us toward the nearby forest. By the time we reach it and discover what appears to be the head of a trail, the Mountain of Fire towers above us. I didn’t realize how close it was until now.

  Jonn stops walking just as we’re about to reach the forest.

  “Why are we here?” he demands.

  “Keep moving,” orders one of the arkanes.

  “No. I’m not taking another step until someone tells me where we’re going.”

  I fear the next sound I will hear will be the gurgle of blood erupting from Jonn’s throat as a spear skewers him, but the noise that reaches my ears sounds surprisingly like a sigh. I don’t understand why until a pair of large hands grab me and severs my restraints. Moments later, my friends are also freed.

  “What’s going on?” asks Kara.

  I turn to find both arkanes with their spears standing idly at their sides. Their skin is a pale shade of yellow, which tells me they’re either happy or hopeful.

  “We’re releasing you,” says one of the arkanes as he hands Kara something.

  It’s a satchel. It looks like the one we had with us when we were captured, but I can’t be sure.

  “It’s heavy,” says Kara.

  “We replenished your food and water supplies,” explains the arkane. “Don’t worry,” he adds when he notices my worried expression. “The water is safe to drink. It comes from King Kanto’s personal water supply.”

  There’s a moment of stunned silence before Jonn says what we’re all thinking.

  “Why?”

  “We work for King Kanto, but we don’t agree with the choices he’s made. Many of our friends and family members died because he refused to help them.”

  “I’m sorry,” says Kara, “but why help us?”

  “We heard what you said. You’re trying to stop the woman who released the plague. Is it true?”

  “Yes,” says Jonn.

  The arkanes smile and their skin turns a bright shade of yellow.

  “That’s why we’re releasing you,” says the arkane. “Here, I believe this is yours.”

  He nods to his companion, who reveals Jonn’s hunting knife.

  “Thank you,” says the grey-haired soldier as he takes the weapon. I never thought I would hear those words coming from Jonn’s lips. Then again, everyone slips up every now and again.

  “You’re welcome,” says the other arkane, speaking for the first time.

  “Good luck,” adds his talkative companion.

  Moments later, they’re heading back toward the city.

  “Wait!” I call after them. “You didn’t tell us where to go.”

  “The one you seek resides at the top of the Mountain of Fire,” says the right humanoid.

  “Be careful,” warns the left one. “The road to the summit is said to be cursed.”

  And on that cheerful note, they walk off, leaving us with nothing but a satchel of supplies and a hunting knife to take down Avalon and surmount whatever obstacles stand between her and us. It’s not what I would call good odds, but our situation is nonetheless remarkably improved from what it was mere minutes ago.

  “What now?” I ask after a while.

  “You heard them,” says Jonn. “We head up the mountain, take down Avalon, save everyone and head back home before anything else goes wrong.”

  It sounds so simple when he says it, but I know from experience nothing is ever as simple as it sounds. If anything, it’s far, far more difficult.

  “I think we should go back to the korrigan village,” says Kara.

  “Why?” asks Jonn.

  “Because now we know the river is the source of the plague. And I’d be willing to bet the river that flows through the korrigan village is the same one that runs through Arkania.”

  I’m impressed, bu
t Jonn doesn’t seem to share my awe.

  “That’s impossible,” he says. “We lived with the korrigans for two weeks. If the river were infected, we’d be dead by now.”

  “On the contrary,” says Kara. “The korrigans fed us nothing but fresh and juiced fruits. Remember?”

  It’s true. We haven’t ingested a single drop of water since arriving in this time. I can’t believe how lucky we’ve been. Jonn’s expressionless demeanour tells me he’s just as stunned.

  “We need to warn the korrigans,” says Kara.

  It takes a moment for Jonn to recover from the shock of Kara’s revelation.

  “We can’t,” he says.

  “Why not?”

  “They tried to sacrifice us. Twice.”

  “That’s no excuse,” snaps Kara. “We can’t just let them die.”

  Jonn grunts.

  “Even if we wanted to warn them, the journey back would take a week. We’re better off heading up the mountain and finding the source of the infection. Once we take down Avalon, we can dump the cure into the river and everyone—including the korrigans—will be cured.”

  Kara tries to come up with a comeback, but Jonn’s speech was so eloquent she can’t find a single flaw in his thinking. But I can.

  “What about Korri?” I ask.

  “What about him?” asks Jonn.

  “We can’t just abandon him.”

  “We can’t go back to Arkania. The odds of getting recaptured are too high.”

  “He’s right,” says Kara. I’m about to argue when she places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I know how much you care about Korri, but there’s nothing we can do for him now. He would want us to continue, to finish the mission.”

  I hate to admit it, but she’s right.

  “It’s better this way,” says Jonn.

  I glare at him. “How can you say that? We would never have made it this far if it weren’t for him.”

  “Stop being so sensitive,” groans Jonn. “All I meant is he probably just got scared and ran away. I bet he’s on his way back to the korrigan village right now.”

  I hope he’s right. Nonetheless, it’s hard for me to shake the feeling that I’m somehow betraying Korri.

  “Fine,” I grunt as I grab the satchel and sling it over my shoulder. It’s heavy, but I ignore the discomfort and trudge toward the mouth of the path. Jonn and Kara follow close behind. I don’t know what awaits us on our journey up the mountain, but I can tell it won’t be easy.

  Memory 56

  T he air is hot and humid. My forehead glistens with sweat, and my feet are beginning to hurt. It feels like we’ve been walking for days, but the position of the sun tells me it’s only been a few hours.

  “How are you doing?” asks Kara, slowing her pace so I can catch up.

  “I’m exhausted,” I admit, too tired to pretend otherwise. “You?”

  “I’m fine,” she says, but it’s a lie. She isn’t merely fine; she’s great. Never before have I seen such a resilient individual. Not only does she have a spring in her step and a smile on her lips, but she isn’t even sweating. In fact, she looks as beautiful now as she did when I first met her. It’s almost as if she isn’t quite human.

  “How do you do it?” I ask.

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re trapped in the past, desperately struggling to survive, while also trying to stop a psychopathic maniac from altering the past. How can you be so relaxed?”

  Kara chuckles.

  “I’m not,” she admits. “I’ve just learned to compartmentalize. This is all I’ve known for the past… Wow. I can’t even remember how long it’s been since this all started.”

  We progress in silence for a while.

  “What do you do when you’re not… well, you know…” I begin, but I’m not sure how to finish the question.

  “Jumping from time to time, trying to keep the past from being altered?” suggests Kara.

  I chuckle. “Yeah. I guess that pretty much sums it up.”

  Kara chuckles too, but then her expression grows dark.

  “I don’t really have a life outside this,” she admits. “My father and I have spent the past few years chasing Avalon. My friends have moved on, and my family… well, Dad is all I have.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She’s dead.”

  There’s a moment of silence during which I don’t know what to say. Should I inquire further or change the subject? I’m still struggling to decide when Jonn stops dead in his tracks.

  “What’s wrong?” asks Kara.

  “I hear something,” whispers Jonn.

  We all listen for a few seconds, but all I hear is the cawing of birds, the cracking of branches and the occasional distant roar of a dinosaur.

  “I don’t hear any—” I begin, but I stop mid-sentence when I notice a noise I haven’t heard before.

  I close my eyes and focus on it. It sounds like a buzzing cell phone, yet I know for a fact those haven’t been invented yet.

  “That sounds like…” I begin, still searching for an answer. It’s right on the tip of my tongue, but it’s not until the buzzing intensifies that I finally recognize it.

  “…MOSQUITOS!” I finish, just as a dozen flying insects emerge from the trees.

  They’re massive. Their bodies are as big as my fist, while their wings out-measure my open hand by a good two centimetres. But the scariest part is the ten-centimetre long darts that protrude from their heads.

  I barely have time to recover from the unexpected appearance of the prehistoric insects before they attack. Within seconds, I have been stung a dozen times, and the numbing agent released into my bloodstream overpowers my nervous system. With a final grunt of distress, I crumble. The last thing I see is the ground speeding up toward me. Then, there’s nothing but darkness.

  Memory 57

  I awake feeling rested. I slowly sit up and glance around, expecting to witness the now familiar sight of tall trees and other various prehistoric plants. What I discover is far more troubling.

  I’m back at the orphanage.

  The dormitory is bathed in shadows, but moonlight seeps in through the windows that line the walls, illuminating the rows of beds that make up the room’s only furniture. I can make out the shapes of sleeping orphans, nestled beneath their matching covers. All but one bed are occupied.

  I recognize the small cot as soon as I lay eyes on it. It’s mine. That is, it used to be until I outgrew it. Its presence here perplexes me until I remember I’ve been gone for weeks. Grace must have given up on me and assigned a new orphan to my sleeping quarters, no doubt replacing my adult bed with a more suitable child’s cot.

  I’m torn. Part of me feels betrayed that Grace gave up on me so quickly, yet at the same time, I’m thrilled to be back in my own time. I have no idea how it happened, but I couldn’t care less. I’m back, and that’s all that matters.

  I’m about to head off in search of Grace when I notice the bed next to mine has also been replaced. Instead of the adult bed I’m accustomed to, I find a small cot with a child of around six sound asleep beneath the covers. She looks familiar, but it’s not until I take a closer look that I understand why.

  It’s Angela. Seeing her here shouldn’t surprise me as we’ve been slumber neighbours for the past twelve years. However, the last time I saw her, she was a teenager. Now, she’s a mere child.

  I take a closer look, hoping to find I was mistaken and the sleeping child isn’t, in fact, Angela. But further scrutiny only confirms my initial assumption.

  What’s happening?

  I look around and notice details I have, up until now, failed to take into account. The walls and ceiling were just painted. The tiles that line the floor are still intact, indicating they’ve only just been installed. Even the beds look new—well, newer than the last time I was here. This can only mean one thing.

  I’m in the past.

  I don’t know how it happened, but I’m determined to
find out. I reach out with the firm intention of waking young Angela, but what unfolds is far more shocking.

  “Oh my god!” I gasp as my hand goes right through the sleeping child’s shoulder. I jump back and stare at my hand. It looks normal. I feel it, just to make sure, but it’s as real as it’s always been.

  I try touching Angela again, but like before, she remains out of reach. As does everything else around me.

  “What the hell is going on?” I mutter.

  I’m not in the past. If I were, I would be able to interact with my surroundings. But then where am I? When am I?

  It takes a while, but I eventually come up with an explanation that makes sense.

  I’m dreaming.

  I’m relieved to discover I’m not a ghost but disappointed I’m not really back in my own time. Still, I plan on enjoying every moment of this strange dream.

  I venture out of the dormitory, walking through whatever stands in my path without a care in the world. I investigate the building’s many rooms but find nothing of interest until I enter the kitchen.

  It’s nighttime, so the kitchen is closed, but it’s far from deserted.

  A child sits at a table. A birthday cake with five extinguished candles stands before him, yet he’s crying. I don’t understand why until I notice how familiar the child looks.

  It’s me.

  It takes a while before I grasp the meaning of the discovery.

  This isn’t a dream. It’s a memory. The cause for my presence still remains a mystery, but I’m finally starting to make sense of what I’m seeing.

  I remember this day like it was yesterday. It was my fifth birthday. As always, Grace had snuck me out of the dormitory and led me to the kitchen for a special birthday surprise. I still don’t know why Grace treated me so differently than all the other kids, but I find myself missing her as I stare at my five-year-old crying self.

  Does she think of me? Does she suspect what happened to me or does she choose to believe I was successfully reunited with my mother?

  I miss Grace even more when she enters the kitchen, holding a box of tissues. She’s younger, but that’s normal. She approaches my five-year-old self and hands him a tissue.