by B. K. Boes
Anakai had been moving cautiously over the rope, but he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the true-son’s mistake. The warrior didn’t look the least bit worried.
The snakes aren’t poisonous.
He kept moving, noticing the coloring of the snakes, recalling that the poisonous ones had stripes of red or bellies of yellow. These below seemed all brown. He made it to the other side and glanced behind him. Jerg came upon the pit and stopped at the edge to stare down at the snakes below, as did several of the other slave-sons.
“They’re not poisonous!” Anakai yelled as loud as he could.
Jerg’s head snapped up. “You sure?”
“Yes!” Anakai shouted and then sprinted forward, waving to Jerg behind him. “Hurry up! You’re like a snail!”
The next obstacle was a net of wire suspended above the ground to just above Anakai’s knees. A true-son cried out from under it, cursed, and kept going. The wires had sharp barbs all over them.
Anakai dropped to the ground and, using his elbows and the tips of his toes, he crawled through with his head down. On the other side, he was a bit too confident. When he stood, one leg wasn’t completely clear and a barb scratched a long line into his calf.
He grimaced with every step from then on, but he passed three more true-sons on a long stretch of running uphill. His legs ached, but when it was time to jump over several low walls, he did so quickly and passed another true-son along the way. He could no longer see Jerg behind him. He prayed his friend was making better time than whoever was last.
Then came a series of ropes hung from a cliff high above. The face of the cliff curved to hang over the canyon floor. There were no handholds here. A series of nets hung at intervals up the cliffside, providing a measure of safety for the ropes meant for true-sons. Warriors made it clear that the ropes which hung loosely were for him, so Anakai took a deep breath and began to climb.
Many of the exercises, like this one, the slave-sons had done on a smaller scale in their daily training. Anakai was fairly good at climbing a rope, but this rope was twice as long as any he’d climbed before. And if he fell from somewhere near the top, he’d be dead, or at least severely injured. He willed himself to climb up, to never look down. A shout sounded to his right, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a true-son land in a net.
Anakai smiled. He’d passed another one. Maybe his father’s blood was flowing strong in his veins after all. He reached the top of the cliff and climbed over the ledge to lie for a moment on solid ground. But just for a moment. Another shout, this one long and terrified. Anakai sat up and crawled to the edge. A slave-son had fallen and was lying crooked on the canyon floor.
But it wasn’t Jerg.
Anakai suppressed all fear, all emotion, all questions of who that boy was. He ran forward. Another wall to climb. This one was taller than the first. He hit the wall at the same time as another boy, a true-son. They climbed side by side for a moment, the true-son looking frantically at Anakai and doing his best to match Anakai’s speed.
Never had Anakai been more focused. He climbed like he had been climbing walls all his life. Handholds and footholds made a clear path for him to the top. Then, there was a shout. He looked at the boy who had been keeping pace with him but was now hanging from one hand. He had gotten himself into a place with little handholds and fewer footholds. How, Anakai didn’t know. But he did know a true-son’s life was worth stopping for.
So, he made his way to the edge of the place where the rock was smoother, harder to climb. He thought he recognized the boy. “Quay! Swing your hand up,” Anakai said. “I’ll help you up to a place you can grip a handhold.”
The boy had fear in his eyes, and his hand slipped a little. “How did you know my name? Who are you?”
“Hurry!” Anakai shouted, worried the boy would fall, and he would be blamed. “Take my hand!”
The slip seemed to have knocked some sense into the boy. He swung his arm out and grasped Anakai’s, letting Anakai help him to a safer spot.
“The way is pretty easy from here,” Anakai said, looking up at the rest of the wall. They had only come about halfway up.
The boy spit on Anakai and shoved him. “I didn’t need your help.” He shoved Anakai again, and Anakai lost his grip. He grasped at the wall, careful not to kick or push himself farther away from it as he fell toward the ground. His chest tightened as his heart jumped into his throat. Suspended in the air, the unnatural nothingness below him, Anakai desperately clawed for a handhold. About a fourth of the way from the ground, Anakai’s hand found what he was looking for — a ledge in the rock. His arm snapped taut as his body swung. The violent stop pulled Anakai’s arm out of its socket, and he screamed in pain. He grappled with his other hand to find a handhold and scraped at the rock with his feet until he had them secured as well. All the while he cried out in pain.
“Anakai? You all right?” Jerg’s voice sounded from a few feet below.
“My arm,” Anakai said, the pain making the world spin. “I’m going to pass out.”
“No,” Jerg said. “Not up here. C’mon. To the top.”
“I can’t.” Anakai squeezed his eyes shut.
“Yes, you can! I saw what happened from the ground. This wasn’t your fault. You can’t come in last or die because a true-son doesn’t know how to take a favor.”
Anakai opened his eyes. The other slave-sons were climbing the rock all around him, on both sides. Even the small boy, Nim, was ahead of them now. “Go,” Anakai said. “I don’t want you to be last, either.”
“I won’t be.” Jerg put an arm around Anakai’s waist. “This arm is useless. Let it drop.”
Pain shot through his arm as he loosened his grip and let his arm drop to his side. The arm fell like rock, useless. The agony was consuming. Jerg helped Anakai to the top and over the wall. His arm began to grow numb on the way down. Once they hit the ground, Anakai tried to size up where they were in rank.
“There’s only one or two behind us, Jerg. I don’t know how fast I can run.”
“Just c’mon,” Jerg said.
“I will, but you run on without me.”
Jerg started to protest, but Anakai faced him, looking him in the eye. “I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you because of me.”
Jerg looked at the last slave-son coming over the wall. He let out a frustrated sigh, blinked away a few tears, and cursed. “Fine. Don’t come in last.” He sighed and began to jog toward the finish line, then broke into a run.
Anakai walked as fast as he could. A slave-son passed him. So Anakai jogged while holding his arm tight to his body with his other hand. Every jostle sent a blinding pain through his chest and down his back, but when the second-to-last slave-son passed him, Anakai began to run.
Sweat poured off his body. He bit his cheek so hard he tasted blood. His vision began to blur. The finish line was within reach. He could see Jerg jumping up and down, pointing and waving his arms for Anakai to hurry, but he couldn’t hear him. There was a ringing in his ears and a sickness in his stomach, but he kept going. And he crossed the finish line just moments before the very last slave-son.
Jerg threw his arms around Anakai, and then apologized profusely at his cry of pain. Anakai sat on the ground and lay on his back, panting, the world spinning. Several slave-sons gathered around him. More than one of them had seen what had happened from a distance. Before Quay had shoved him, Anakai had been keeping pace with many of the true-sons, though they had had a head start.
General Vordon had apparently taken a shortcut through the canyons, and the boys parted for him as he came to Anakai’s side. He knelt, looked at Anakai’s arm, and whispered into his ear, “This is going to hurt.”
The general made a sudden movement and forced Anakai’s arm back into the socket. The pain was so great he couldn’t even scream. It caught in his throat and he choked on it. Jerg approached as soon as the general left. Anakai’s stomach heaved, his entire body clenching inward.
In the waning light of day, through the blur of sweat and tears, Anakai saw a warrior pick up his bow, draw back an arrow, and loose it. It speared the last slave-son as he tried to flee. He barely made it a dozen steps before the arrow sprouted through his chest and brought him to his knees.
The world spun away into nightmares.
Chapter Thirteen
Jabin
Yllin Sanctuary
Yllin Agricultural Estate, Eikon
4th Cycle of Chenack
986 Post Schism
Jabin woke before daybreak. The smaller moon, Almeck, was full in the sky, signaling the end of a span. Today was a Holy Day. Almeck showed a full face twice during every cycle of the larger moon, Chenack. Holy Days and other religious holidays went by Almeck’s face, while harvests and the year were measured by his brother moon.
Normally, Jabin was excited by the prospect of visiting the Sanctuary on the Yllin Estate. He enjoyed listening to Oracle Lan’s exhortations. The Holy Book was full of beautiful words and the wonder of something so much bigger than any individual being. The Sustainer gave everyone purpose, and his words gave everyone a guide to live by. While his peers sighed and picked at their scabs, Jabin would lean forward in his seat, listening to every word, wondering at his own purpose. His mother had been bringing him to the Sanctuary since infancy when he was consecrated with holy water. It was a place natural to him. A place full of knowledge and comfort.
But now Jabin sat cross-legged on his bed, dreading what was to come. More and more, his parents had been arguing about him and how he loved to learn about the Way of the Sustainer. His father frowned when he caught Jabin looking through the family’s copy of the Holy Book. His mother, on the other hand, offered him the Book of Proverbs as well. Tension had thickened in the Yllin house since Jenna’s recovery and Tallie’s declaration of Jabin’s gift.
Time leached by as Jabin waited in the dark of his room. When rays of sun began to peek over his window sill, his stomach churned. Today his mother would take him to see Oracle Lan, to talk to him about Jabin’s visions. And his father knew nothing of it.
Jabin washed and dressed, knowing his mother would expect him downstairs soon. He took the stairs one at a time with wooden legs.
What will Oracle Lan think when he hears I didn’t stop the fire? Or at least stop Jenna from going inside the barn? Why would the Sustainer show me this if I wasn’t supposed to stop it?
Questions weighed heavy on Jabin’s shoulders as he passed the kitchen without stopping for breakfast. Noba called to him, but he felt too numb to answer. He simply waited outside for his mother. Tallie wasn’t long, and they began their walk to the Sanctuary.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked.
Jabin nodded once. It was a lie. He hadn’t slept well since before Jenna’s fall.
“I brought you a biscuit.” Tallie brought the lump of bread out of the small purse that hung from her wrist. “Noba said you didn’t eat breakfast.”
“I wasn’t hungry.” Jabin kept walking, head down. He didn’t take the biscuit.
Tallie sighed and put it back. “Don’t be nervous.” She placed a gentle hand on Jabin’s back.
For a moment, the warmth of her touch was comforting, but then the tower bell rang as they approached the Sanctuary. Jabin entered through the double doors and followed his mother to a row near the front. The vaulted Sanctuary ceiling loomed above floor-to-ceiling wall murals that stretched the length of the building.
Long ago, Jabin had tried to count the tiles in the mural of the First Oracle. She was standing on a rock, her face scarred from nose to ear, her robes flowing around her feet. She was looking up into a dark sky filled with lightning. But she was made up of too many tiles, and Jabin soon abandoned his attempt to count them. Now, the First Oracle’s eyes seemed to follow him as he walked, as if she sensed his shame.
The cushioned stone bench felt harder than usual as Jabin sat next to his mother. Oracle Lan took his place on the small platform front and center. The exhortation began, and throughout it Jabin couldn’t help but look over his shoulder at the exit again and again. As the service continued, the desire to race back through those huge wooden doors bubbled up inside so that he couldn’t stop squirming. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to talk about his dream. He wanted to forget it ever happened.
But Momma said this is what the Sustainer would want.
The thought kept his feet from fleeing. Jabin had heard Oracle Lan speak of the ultimate will of the Sustainer being more important than any man’s wishes.
Jabin focused on the oracle he had known all his life, who was now speaking with passion about the love of the Sustainer. Oracle Lan had never seemed frightening to Jabin before. He was a bald, old man with a round belly and simple brown robes. When he wasn’t giving an exhortation, he was smiling or laughing. But now Jabin swallowed a lump in his throat at the sight of him. To speak alone with a man chosen by the creator of all men… it made Jabin’s hands sweat.
The service ended in prayer, and Tallie motioned for him to follow her toward the front of the Sanctuary as the other congregants passed them by on their way out. Unanswered questions filled Jabin’s mind.
Will I have more dreams?
Will I see more people get hurt?
Is this what it means to be chosen?
The thought was not a happy one. The dream still frightened him, and it had changed the atmosphere of his home. The only one who didn’t treat Jabin differently was Jenna, and Jabin didn’t even want to look at her, much less carry on with their usual banter.
His mother took his hand, urging his stiff legs to move faster. Oracle Lan waited for them at the front, and when they stopped in front of him, Tallie bowed her head slightly.
“Oracle Lan,” she said.
“Lady Yllin.” The Oracle gestured toward a door in the corner behind him. “Your message arrived yesterday. We can speak privately in my study.”
Oracle Lan stepped off the platform and led them toward the little door. When they entered the small room, Jabin hesitated. There were no murals or decorations of any kind, only two benches facing a flattened rock where the oracle made himself comfortable. Tallie tugged him inside and gently prodded him toward a bench.
“It’s all right, Jabin,” Oracle Lan said. “We’re just here to talk.”
Jabin wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. “About the dream?”
Tallie sat beside Jabin. “No, a vision. My son has been given—”
The Oracle held up his hand, and Jabin’s mother stopped talking. “My lady, I must speak with Jabin without interruption. I need to hear what happened from his perspective.”
“Oh.” His mother’s shoulders sagged slightly, but she agreed and settled herself on the bench with her lips pressed together.
Jabin remembered her screams as she reached for him and Jenna from outside the barn while she was held back. He could see the look on her face as she’d held vigil at Jenna’s bedside in the days that followed. And then when he had told her about his dream, how he could have stopped the whole thing, she had held him and told him it wasn’t his fault. He looked at Oracle Lan now and wasn’t so sure. Would the oracle come to the same conclusion? Or would he confirm Jabin’s fear?
“Jabin,” the oracle said. “Tell me what happened, exactly how you remember it. Tell me about the dream and what happened to your sister. She’s not here today, correct?”
He nodded. “Jenna got hurt and stayed home. She usually comes with us on Holy Days. But her leg…” Jabin swallowed and looked at his mother. He didn’t want to talk about what happened.
“Go on, Jabin.” She rubbed his back in small circles to calm him.
Jabin looked down at his hands. He’ll know I could’ve stopped Jenna, but I didn’t. Why was I so afraid? Why couldn’t I move?
“Jabin, be more specific about your dream. What made it different from others?” Oracle Lan leaned closer, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re not in trou
ble. I promise.”
Jabin bit his lip. The oracle’s voice was soothing, and his eyes seemed kind. Something about the man made Jabin’s nerves calm enough to tell his story. “I remembered all of it, not just pieces. And it didn’t go away, like a memory instead of a dream. Even now, I can see it in my head.” Jabin stopped when his eyes brimmed with tears. He took a deep breath. “In the dream… I was watching myself, also Jenna. It was morning, and it was time for breakfast. Noba dropped the rod when a spark hit her arm.”
“Noba?”
“She cooks our food. Noba makes the best biscuits.”
The oracle smiled. “I’m sure she does. What happened next?”
“In the dream, I saw Vern run in and tell Poppa about the fire. I saw Jenna run out to the barn to find the kitten that she loves so much. She found it, but the fire scared her, so she tried to hide in the stall. In my dream, she… died.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. He held out his hands a few feet apart. “And I was this far from her. I tried to help her in the dream, but my hand was like the smoke. I couldn’t touch her.”
Jabin wanted to act grown-up in front of the oracle, but he couldn’t stop crying. He used his sleeve to dry his cheeks, but the tears kept coming. His mother was still rubbing his back, whispering that everything was all right.
But it’s not! Jabin thought. I should have been faster.
“And then the dream came true? At least, up until Jenna’s death, obviously.” Oracle Lan focused on Jabin, studying him.
“Almost,” Jabin said, squirming under the oracle’s stare. He didn’t want to talk about it, but he had no choice. The oracle was going to find out how he failed.
“What was different?”
“When I came down for breakfast, everything seemed familiar. But when Noba dropped the rod, I knew it was the same. The dream was real, and I knew what would happen. After that, little things were different. I didn’t eat my breakfast. Jenna ran out sooner, I think, because I whispered what Vern was going to say before he said it.” Jabin paused for a moment.