Dead Man Walking

by Zach Adams

  “Damn it all. I guess this is time bleeding as it unravels,” Isaac growled. “Your brain would prevent you from observing any discrepancies directly. Without a focus or filter to lighten the load, we can’t retain multiple realities at once. Volkov said he and L’æon had something big happening at midnight so the effect must be getting worse as that gets closer. The deadline always seems to be midnight, doesn’t it? Hold on!” Isaac exclaimed as he lunged his hand into his backpack. He dug out the orange plastic pill bottle and placed it dramatically on the coffee table. Chloe and Sarah both stared at it. Sarah didn’t seem to know what it meant; Chloe looked crestfallen but unsurprised.

  “Drugs again. Brilliant. You did say Volkov was part of this.” She said quietly. Isaac shook his head again.

  “No, no!” Isaac said. “Well, kind of. But not like you think. That -” He pointed at the bottle. “Is a perfectly legitimate prescription for anxiety, with a few sleeping pills and painkillers left over from other bottles mixed in to save inventory space. Pay attention.”

  Isaac focused on the bottle. With one hand on his temple and one directed at his target, Chloe noted that he seemed to be attempting a Jedi mind trick. She began to tell him that the only reason it worked that one time was because she kicked the table while he blinked, but he spoke before she could.

  “I’m not one-hundred percent sure this will work, and if it doesn’t, then I am definitely crazy and will turn myself in. But it worked twice. First at the museum, it made this book appear out of nowhere. And in a dream, kind of, I think, I saw myself making the same book disappear from the library.”

  Isaac cleared his throat.

  “Næ’chäb äl’mæ dä ægö säväním,” He hummed to the pill bottle, his hands stretched and pressed together at the fingertips.

  For several moments, nothing happened, and a single tear ran down Chloe’s face. Sarah patted her on the shoulder gently. Isaac slumped against the wall, jaw hanging loose.

  But then, the bottle shuddered, dematerialized as if erased from an Etch-a-Sketch, and the atoms drifted away into the air. Everyone’s jaw dropped.

  “Holy crap, it’s true,” Chloe breathed. Without another word, Isaac ran down the hall.

  “You see, there were two Pages at the library, one refused to translate, and I kept forgetting to put it back in my bag…” Isaac said as he sifted through his room. Chloe looked on in horror.

  “You and I are going to have a long talk about the state of this room, Isaac” Chloe said. “Why do I even bother keeping the rest of this place clean -”

  “You know, I never asked you to do that. You assumed command when you moved in and snapped any time I tried to help out. Mind saving the yelling until after the end of the universe?” Isaac interrupted as he found the third Page.

  “Here it is. The fragmented stories on them seem to have a mind of their own. They move around so other parts become visible. Sometimes it just doesn’t translate, it doesn’t want me to see it yet. The Book that they’re from is supposed to contain all of the lost history and knowledge of the elves, so I guess it has to be able to save space or it would be an inconveniently large volume. Hitchhiker’s Guide-style.”

  Gamora bolted into the room, brushing Chloe’s ankles. Nikola bounced after her, and Chloe scooped the kitten into her arms to prevent her pet from entering Isaac’s mess. The older cat nudged Isaac for attention, so he absently obliged as he examined the page.

  “How’s an old book going to help anything?” Chloe asked. Her brother scoffed.

  “Think about it,” Isaac told her. “Not just a book, the Book, capital B, that contains the collected knowledge of one of the oldest and most powerful races in the universe. L’æon didn’t even believe it existed, and Tobias was horrified that I knew -”

  Chloe growled at him. “So, Toby is in on this too? How about Uncle Vic? Is everyone just not telling me about world-ending catastrophes in their lives now?”

  Isaac suddenly became fascinated by his own feet, as they provided something other than his sister’s enraged face to look at.

  “The story it’s been telling me is out of order,” Isaac continued uneasily. “With big gaps in between, like lost episodes. The first one was from the night the elves’ home fell, I assume the second, this trial thing, was something that led them there. I think it’s trying to tell me something, but I need more of the story, let me look…”

  Isaac examined the Page, holding the one from the library with it. The patterns slowly swirled and melted into a shape which his brain was able to comprehend.

  “It’s working, look!” Isaac waved the Pages at Chloe’s face in his excitement. She tilted her head to the left to look around them and glared at her brother.

  “Right, you can’t, sorry, I’ll just read it out loud,” Isaac said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Æ’genesis, Part Two

  ERR.

  Remember me…

  Næ’zätæmém departed the Shrine in deep thought. The Council of Six were evenly divided for the first time, and at the epicenter of the debate sat he and Úë’sälúm. The divine laws by which they governed Átrí Nä’lún had forbidden any from leaving or entering the forest as long as they had been aware. There were those, urged on by Næ’zätæmém, who felt the unyielding rule weakened what could otherwise, should otherwise be known as the most powerful species across any world or star. So preoccupied was he that he failed to notice another councilmember, the fiery and well-renowned Märæsälúm, as he gazed out from the cliffside over their home.

  The only one among us who could rival myself or Úë’sälúm, the last of the beautiful and deadly Ál’mörsämär, Næ’zätæmém thought when he finally noticed her approach. She seemed to speak, but so entrenched in his own mind was he that her words vanished en route to his ears.

  How grand it would be to see her take up the blades once more, Næ’zätæmém’s thoughts continued. In defense of the Átrí, and in the name of our collective evolution. Not like the mindless sand-drones and singing wards of Äl’præcü and Qäläsämär. Protection, ha! Naught but puppets of Úë’sälúm. But with Märæsälúm at my side, Æ’géminë would be the driving power in the cosmos. As is our right!

  “Næ’zätæmém, are you well?” He finally heard the striking woman say. This shook him from his inner monologue.

  “Deepest apologies, Märæsälúm, my mind was elsewhere,” Næ’zätæmém told her, as though it was not in their kind’s nature to be prone to distraction. They continued walking through the valley.

  “I fear the Council’s squabbles will spread, and poison Átrí Nä’lún,” Märæsälúm said. Næ’zätæmém nodded gravely. Indeed, he knew firsthand the contemptuous clash between those who followed tradition to oblivion, and those who craved more. He had spoken at great length to many Déndréminë on the matter. He heard their fears and wishes while the others around the fountain did not.

  “So long as Úë’sälúm refuses to yield, and open our walls, it is already poisoned,” Næ’zätæmém said. The venom in his words surprised Märæsälúm, who looked at him with her brow raised. Their journey was nearly at an end, as they approached the dendrawood door of her home. The simplicity of it, a rarity among the Ascended, never ceased to amuse him.

  Märæsälúm reached for the door and pushed it open only slightly, not allowing a view into her living space. Not noticing this, Næ’zätæmém made for the door as well, intending to follow her inside.

  “Úë’sälúm is neither your enemy nor mine, nor that of Átrí Nä’lún,” Märæsälúm said. She held the door firmly, not allowing her friend to open it further. His hand remained on the wood, close to her own, and his eyes sought contact with hers.

  “And yet with his stagnation, so still too are we all. In stillness, all is lost.” Næ’zätæmém said.

  “He aims only to protect us,” Märæsälúm replied. “He is not immune to compromise.”

  This brought a laugh from Næ’zätæmém. He knew the reluctant king well, a
nd never was he known to deviate his ways.

  “Have you some miraculous method of swaying our great and noble leader?” Næ’zätæmém asked mockingly. While he was distracted by his amusement, the woman slipped through her door and braced it from within before he could join her. His eyes narrowed.

  “Úë’sälúm and I have spoken, and he is not as incapable of learning from others as you believe,” Märæsälúm said through the narrow gap. “After all, knowledge is his discipline,” She added with a faint smile. Her companion’s hand remained on the outer side of the door.

  “Perhaps we can discuss this further,” Næ’zätæmém told her. Though it was said as a suggestion, she did not mistake the demand in his voice. She looked away from him and nudged the door further closed.

  “Perhaps soon, there are matters here I must attend to,” Märæsälúm said hastily. “When next we meet, Næ’zätæmém,” She concluded as she shut the door. He scowled.

  When next we meet, indeed, Næ’zätæmém thought as he departed for the far reaches of the forest, away from the homes of his neighbors. This had become a meditative habit of his as debates around the fountain became as common as the folk living among the dendra. He followed the moonlight across the soft earth, along the banks of the river which carved a spiral through the forest. The river, which flowed south away from their home to places they knew not where, was the only thing which could venture beyond the living trees.

  Until Úë’sälúm deduces a way to lock it inside as well, Næ’zätæmém thought to himself. He smiled at his own wit and followed the water to the edge of the forest, where few of his kind cared to go, and the roots of the dendra rose up from the dirt in a dense, formidable shield. Stories were often repeated between Æ’géminë of the nightmares beyond the forest, of mutant beasts and conscious stone waiting for the weak to wander within their reach. Everyone knew as well of the dreaded Velryd, asleep in Tä’súldä until the day came when he saw fit to bring his horde of Æ’chäbömín down upon their docile neighbors. If any dared to leave the safety provided to them, the predatory monsters would smell and destroy them in moments. One could only hope that one of the living stones would appear from below to drag them to Dätánímä first.

  Næ’zätæmém gazed through a thin opening in the barrier. No monsters or living stones were visible to him. Only the broad ash desert they called the Álg. Nothing moved, so he turned his eyes to the black sky. The silver moon, always full, hung high in the darkness, never setting or rising, always illuminating their world.

  In stillness, all is lost…

  A large gray wolf, standing steady on all fours yet nearly Næ’zätæmém’s height, appeared a short distance away. It seemed not to move either, yet simply materialized as if it had been present all along. It peered at Næ’zätæmém.

  “Be gone, beast,” He told the unperturbed animal.

  “Be gone!” He howled. Still, it did not react. Næ’zätæmém prepared the will for a curse with a few rapid hand motions.

  “Be gone, dull creature,” He continued to speak as he wove cosmic energy into place. “Or I shall return home with a new pet to carry me about the city.” At this, the wolf growled but still did not move. Næ’zätæmém unleashed his spell.

  “Næ’vös, næ’räcín!”

  A wave of unseen force assaulted the wolf, dragging dendra from the ground as it passed. The cry from these younger trees as they were uprooted and thrown into their siblings pierced Næ’zätæmém’s ears. The creature was unfazed.

  “Äb,” The wolf replied, nearly whispering yet still clear above the shrieking trees. Næ’zätæmém’s wave of energy, along with the anguished dendra it had collected, froze for a blink before turning back on its caster.

  Næ’zätæmém was scarcely able to summon a shield to deflect the trees before his own rebounded curse threw him with a resounding clap into the undamaged root barrier.

  The wolf approached, and Næ’zätæmém, now thoroughly terrified in a way he had never been,tried to ask what the beast truly was. His voice failed him. Not words or sound but simply unfiltered thought, the cosmic gravity of which threatened to shatter Næ’zätæmém’s mind, was impressed upon him in response.

  There are gods which are forgotten, but not dead.

  Indeed, the presence crushing and consuming his mind had a familiar sense of the divine. Around the fountain, such a presence was rare but not unknown. But the aura of the Eternal Lightbringer was nurturing and undemanding.

  This wolfish entity demanded notice and showed what it could offer those who obeyed. In the same thought, it impressed upon its subject what it could do to those who didn’t.

  The wolf allowed Næ’zätæmém to stand and follow to a pit where a dendra previously stood. It dug its snout, as thick as Næ’zätæmém’s thigh, into the dirt and returned with a torn Page, ancient and yellow with stains of earth. It nudged the sheet into Næ’zätæmém’s hand and, as promptly as it had appeared, was gone. He read the wolf’s gift, the text of his native tongue shining through the stains.

  ERR: Timeline corrupted.

  ERR: Feedback loop resumed. Compensation in progress.

  FIX: All components present. Memory resumed.

  Finally, the humans made it to the world which, by divine decree, had never and could never be disturbed by mortal presence. As they had survived the trek from Earth, through the labyrinth of memories, and across this dimension of nightmares and paradoxes, the governing power of their reality permitted them to defy the timeless cosmic rule.

  When the scholar of Babylon and his bride approached, the dendra were yet a minute colony of infants. They stood only at the entrance to the valley, the far side of which housed the fountain of the Eternal Lightbringer, its still water open to the sky. He placed his journal of impossible things on the ground near it and crept, weary beyond measure, to its edge. After the monsters and curses which plagued their path to this golden valley, such purity could not be real.

  A mirage of a gray-eyed woman robed in white, the same one from his dreams, appeared sitting on the rim of the fountain. She nodded in silence to the pair, and they understood that they were to drink from the clear water. As they quenched their thirst, a kind but immense force imparted a single thought, and they felt its power change their minds and souls. The scholar knew not what his bride heard, only his own message.

  L’æsälum, first of the First, father and king of the Æ’géminë…

  And so Næ’zätæmém returned to Átrí Nä’lún, in equal measures fury and joy, the gift of the wolf hidden in the folds of his tunic.

  Our precious traditions. All that the hypocrite Úë’sälúm holds dear, He thought as he re-entered the city. So caught in this manic state was he that he didn’t bother to shield his thoughts. Not that any of the lesser would understand if they heard.

  Our very origins… Næ’zätæmém thoughts continued to race as he neared the home of Äl’khäshæ, an ambitious protege who had recently begun to follow him.

  Now the stagnant Átrí Nä’lún would change, it would have no choice. Úë’sälúm would fall from his undeserved throne. Thanks to Næ’zätæmém’s gift from the beastly god, the curse of the Æ’géminë would finally end, and reality would finally remember them. Their eternal stillness would cease.

  Lies!

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Rozariu Mazăre

  ?2018?

  Over the course of the story, the siblings had rejoined Sarah in the living room with fresh cups of coffee, all sitting on the sofa with Isaac in the center. Chloe looked unimpressed as she scratched Nikola’s ears, with the kitten sleeping in her lap.

  Isaac, on the other hand, felt quite the opposite. He looked between his Pages in excitement, giving a short laugh every several seconds or so. Finally, he placed them carefully side by side on the table.

  “So, the first Page was the night elfkind died,” Isaac said, mostly to himself. “It was supposed to be a revolution, because this Næ guy - jeez, why does his name never
seem to stick in my memory…” Isaac double-checked the Page. “Næ’zätæmém, he learned the truth about their society, and the laws keeping them trapped in their forest. But he snapped at the last minute, over this Märæsälúm having a kid with their leader Úë’sälúm, which I think is who L’æon stole his alias from. Holy soap opera, Batman.”

  “What does any of this mean?” Chloe asked.

  “This contradicts everything L’æon told me,” Isaac said. “If the first elves were actually human… I knew it, he was keeping me blind, to keep toying with me!”

  “But why you?”

  “L’æon claimed I was to the universe like a pebble is to a sheet of glass, but couldn’t work out why,” Isaac explained. “But he also claimed humans couldn’t learn magic, clearly a lie. So, I don’t know why me, at least not yet. But I know he and Volkov are doing something at that Rozariu Mazăre club at midnight in order to bring back someone called the Forgotten One. Maybe some sort of super-monstrous cosmic level-up form he needs to unlock for himself? Otherwise, it’s like Qui-Gon said, there’s always a bigger fish. Sounds friendly either way.”

  “And this would be the entity which takes the kill shot at reality?” Sarah asked, chuckling nervously.

  “The very same,” Isaac replied with a nod. “See, the library and downtown were direct attacks. The hollow were there for me. But the museum was a bloodbath. The goal wasn’t me that time, or the moura would have come my way first; it was there for a body count, like a test run for something. L’æon said there was a lot of psychic energy being generated, which would serve as a potent fuel for spellwork.”

  All three of them gulped.