A Child of Two Worlds

by Mark Cole

  “You’re dead, Boy,” Father said. Twelve-year-old Alex wiped the blood from his mouth. His father’s reed sword had hit him in the face again. “Get up. Do it again.”

  Alex shouted as he rushed at his father, swinging the bundled lathe of reeds at his father’s knees. The middle-aged man nimbly hopped over the swing, and Alex had to roll to the side to keep from getting rapped on the top of the head. His father gave chase through the dried fallen leaves. Reds and browns flew by as they ran through the cool, autumnal forest. The boy made it to a small rise that was clear of trees and spun to face his father.

  The boy didn’t see or hear anything around him. Not one to be caught off guard, he spun in a small circle and made sure the man wasn’t trying to sneak up on him from behind. Alex waited for a few minutes, not willing to give up the high ground, but grew concerned that the man was setting a trap. “He won’t catch me,” young Alex muttered, jogging back into the trees.

  He prowled through the dried leaves, taking care not to step on any he thought would crackle. A snapping tree limb brought his head whipping around. The boy rushed toward the sound, heedless of how loud his footsteps were.

  A tree branch under tension whipped around, and hit Alex hard in the chest. He collapsed to the ground, the breath knocked out of him. The man walked from around the tree and laid the sword of bundled reeds against the boy’s throat.

  “You are dead for a fourth time today, Boy,” his father, Daniel Thomas Zane, said. The man shook his head, shoulder length gray hair swinging. Alex rolled onto his stomach and lifted himself to hands and knees. “Why did you leave the high ground?” his father asked as he stood.

  “What was I supposed to do?” Alex asked, his tone bordering on impertinence. “For all I knew, you went back to the truck and got food and decided to wait me out. I got no food, and it’s getting cold.”

  “I have no food,” his father corrected. “Good assessment of the situation, but what did you do wrong?” he asked as they walked back to the truck.

  “Other than letting you hit me with a tree?” the boy asked sarcastically.

  His father frowned at him and hit him on top of the head with the bundled lathe.

  “I thought you were trying to trap me on that little hill and decided to run. I ran into the real trap because of that,” Alex said, rubbing the top of his head.

  “Good job, dead boy,” his father chided as they climbed into the old beat-up truck. It rumbled to life when his father turned the key, and they began the half-hour drive down the mountain. “We need to pick up some groceries. What have you been studying?” his father asked.

  Alex was sure his father knew exactly what he had been studying in the library of text books they had at home. He just wanted to test Alex’s understanding. “Philosophy,” the boy said, “and physics.”

  Daniel let out a terse laugh. They bumped over some ruts in the old hunting trail. “So, I’m raising a scientist, poet, warrior then?”

  Alex rolled his eyes at his father’s sarcasm. Wish I could hit him on top of the head, the boy thought.

  “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Boy,” his father said without looking over.

  “How did you know I rolled my eyes at you?”

  The older man laughed again. “You just told me. Now tell me what my renaissance man of a son learned today.”

  Alex discussed the basics of friction and inertia with his father until the man started to ask him questions on philosophy. They talked about why people who sacrifice themselves for a greater good are revered by a society as they turned onto the paved road that led into town.

  “It would be nice to be known as a hero, even if it costs your life,” Alex said.

  “Better to be alive,” his father said. “Why would you care if people thought you are hero? You’d be dead.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t, but people would be grateful for my sacrifice,” the boy said.

  “Why do people risk their lives? Is it just so they can be known as heroes?”

  Alex shook his head. “Of course not. While that could be some people’s motivation, it couldn’t possibly be everyone’s.” He thought for a moment as they stopped at an intersection.

  “People could sacrifice themselves for others for a number of reasons,” Alex continued. “Take a soldier who jumps on a grenade to save his fellow soldiers’ lives. Some would do it because they were saving a friend, some would because if he didn’t they would likely all die, and some likely wouldn’t think at all, just react.”

  His father nodded. “Sometimes,” the man said, “there isn’t time to think, and you must act immediately. Always be ready to live, or die, with the consequences of your actions.”

  Alex nodded. They rode the rest of the way to the store in silence. He watched the trees roll by as the sun set. It was dark when they pulled into the small country store’s parking lot. His father had told him about places where you couldn’t go a few feet without bumping into another person, where neon signs lit the night with their enticing glow. He hoped to see a place like that some day.

  “Wait in the truck,” the older Zane said. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Yes, Father,” Alex said. Daniel got out of the truck and walked into the store. Alex looked at the other vehicles in the parking lot, taking down the details of each like his father had always told him to.

  Old man Ripley’s truck, even more beat up than theirs, was parked so that just the back of it showed around the side of the small wood-paneled building. Alex turned and looked out the driver’s window.

  A small car that looked fast was parked a few spaces away. A little, nervous man was sitting in the driver’s seat. He rubbed his face and twitched impatiently for the other person who must be inside to come out. Alex heard a couple cracks like loud fireworks. A gun, the boy thought.

  A young, raven-haired man ran out of the store, holding a small bag in one hand and a revolver in the other. He jumped into the passenger seat of the small car just as Alex’s father stumbled out of the store holding his side. The car reversed and peeled out as it flew from the parking lot. Daniel staggered to the passenger side door and opened it.

  Alex saw the bullet wound in his father’s side. Blood soaked the older man’s shirt from the ribs down. “Move over, Boy. You have to drive.”

  “But-” Alex started.

  “You know how. I’ve shown you.”

  Alex slid over and helped his father climb into the passenger seat. The boy noticed he had his father’s blood on his hands as he started the truck and backed out. “We can take you to the doctor,” Alex said. He hadn’t ever been to a doctor, but his father and his textbooks had told him about them.

  “No,” Daniel said. “The hospital is too far, Alex. I won’t make it. We need to go home, I have to give you some things before…” the man trailed off. “Home. You know the way.”

  Alex drove slowly, being careful to not jostle his father too much on the country roads. The man began to sweat and slump over to his side. “Only a few more minutes, Dad. We’re almost there.” The truck rumbled up to their small cabin. Alex jumped out and ran to help his father out of the truck.

  Daniel leaned heavily on the boy as they stumbled to the door. Alex helped his father to the chair in the biggest of the three rooms in the cabin. “Lights,” his father said. Blood frothed at the corner of Daniel’s mouth.

  Alex flew out of the back of the cabin and turned on the small generator. He sprinted back inside and turned on the light switch.

  “Get my box from under the bed,” his father said. He coughed up a bit of blood as Alex ran from the room, getting the small strongbox from under his father’s bed and returned to Daniel. The man tried to lift the lid, but it was firmly closed, and his hands were shaking and covered with blood.

  “Can’t open it,” Daniel mumbled. “You have to.”

  Alex took the box from his father and dug his nails into the small gap between the lid and the box. He yanked, and it sprang open. Inside were a n
umber of papers.

  “This is my will,” his father said. “Have a large trust for you. Bank in Little Rock.” He lifted a blood soaked hand to his son’s face. “I’ve been hard, tried to get you ready for it. Everyone depends on you. I’m sorry. Love you, Alex.”

  The man’s hand fell to his side. “Get me ready for what?” Alex asked, but his father didn’t answer. He closed the box and set it aside. Tears fell onto his shirt. “Father,” the boy said, choking on sobs, “I love you.” Alex stumbled to the phone. He dialed the operator.

  “Directory services,” a woman’s voice said.

  “Please,” Alex said. “Help.”

  “After that, I was put into foster care,” Alex told Terra. “When I turned eighteen I joined The Marines.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Terra said. She didn’t know how he could feel so much sadness and not cry. She was having trouble keeping her emotions in check.

  Alex pushed the last bite of food around on his plate and shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

  They sat in silence and drank some more. The serving woman had brought her a cool pitcher of water and him a smaller pitcher of the spiced wine while he was talking. “My turn now,” Alex said. “What were you like as a kid? What was it like growing up here?”

  “My father was the one that wasn’t around when I was young,” she started. “Angels don’t experience time the same as humans. What is a year, or two, or a hundred to an immortal being? I’ve never met him,” she said bitterly. “For all I know, he is on Bara helping the war effort there. Or dead.”

  “Dead? How do you kill an immortal?”

  Terra laughed at the consternation on his face. “Just like you kill anyone else. We immortals don’t age. That’s the only significant difference between half-breeds and people like you. Some, like full-blooded angels and demons, are more resistant to disease and injury, but other than that, they are just like me.”

  “What is Bara?” Alex asked.

  “That is the name of the Realm of Good,” Terra explained. “Angels live there. On Earth, they call it Heaven.” She took a drink of water and continued. “I was raised by my mother, The Grand Sorceress of the Arcane City, but she passed away when I was sixteen. I’ve been trained my entire life in the complexities of leadership and magic.

  “Being the Nexus didn’t make my life any easier as a half-breed. It just guaranteed that everyone knew who I was. The only people who ever saw me as anything more than a freak or oddity while I was growing up were Lenora, my adopted mother, Caitlyn, and Silvia.” Terra laughed. “I remember when they were born. I was thirty-three. They were such cute little balls of fluff.”

  Alex looked confused. “Hold on, you were thirty-three when they were born? How old are you?”

  “I’m almost fifty-six,” she said with a smirk on her face.

  He stood up, shaking his head. “No, no, no, you told me you were twenty-three after we met.”

  Terra laughed. “Alex, sit down.” She waited for him to comply. “I had to tell you that. You wouldn’t have believed me if I had told you the truth. When I was twenty-three, I looked like I was just beginning to mature from a child to a woman. I’ve looked this age since I was forty. Close your mouth before a fly buzzes in.”

  Alex snapped his jaw closed. “That’s…”

  “Impossible?” she finished.

  He nodded.

  She smiled at the confusion and wonder coming across the link. “Husband, you are married to a half-angel sorceress, in a place that a month ago you didn’t know existed, surrounded by races of people and animals that are straight out of your Realm’s myths and legends. Your definitions of possible and impossible are going to require a little redefinition. Are you ready for me to continue?” Terra took his silence for acquiescence.

  “Almost ten years passed, after repeated attempts on my life, I decided that it was time I found a Shield. After searching for a while, I found Michael. Well, it was more like he found me. He was a good man. He was the champion of the Grand Arena in the Arcane City. He died closing the gateway behind me when I came to Earth.”

  “I saw that,” Alex said. “In Starfall, he showed me different things you had gone through.”

  “What did you see?”

  “How people hated you and feared you. How sad he was when he shattered the arch with you on the other side. He said something about my empathy would save you, but he didn’t explain it.”

  Terra was silent for a moment. She was guarding her emotions, preventing herself from feeling anything too strongly lest Alex get the wrong idea from what he could feel on the link. “I wonder what he meant?” she asked.

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. Your turn now,” he said.

  “I just asked you about what Michael showed you,” she said.

  “I haven’t thought of another question yet,” Alex told her. “You can go again.”

  “What did you do in The Marines?” she asked.

  He rubbed the back of his head. “Most of that is classified.” Terra raised an eyebrow in askance. “It means I can’t talk about it. But, let’s just say that my father trained me how to fight, and they taught me how to kill.”

  “Your turn,” she said.

  “How did you find me?” he asked. “You told me magic, but you also said you weren’t sure I was the right person.”

  “The spell would give me a general geographic location. It wasn’t very accurate. I was fairly sure it was you when we moved to Seattle, and it indicated there instead of Chicago, but I wanted to wait a while longer before I tried to come back here. My turn. Did you ever have anyone you loved before we met?”

  “No. There were a few girls I liked, but it never went past that. I didn’t think it would be right to try having a family if I died in a firefight. Why do you call yourself a half-breed?”

  “It’s what I am,” Terra said with no emotion in her voice.

  “But you say it with such scorn. It is what you are. Hating it won’t change it. Besides, I think your wings are beautiful,” he told her, taking her hand from across the table.

  She smiled at him. “So you have said.”

  “Can we walk around some? I’m about to fall asleep sitting here.”

  He was right. Terra could feel how tired he was. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

  “The falls.” Alex stood.

  The owner of The Weary Traveler met them at the bar downstairs when they tried to pay. The burly Dwarf smiled and wiped his hands on his white apron. “I can no’ take yer money. If ye’re ever hungry, come back. The heroes o’ the volcano do no’ need to pay.”

  “Thank you,” Terra said, pressing a few silver coins into his hands. “For the hostess and serving woman.”

  “Fare ye well, me lord and lady,” the proud Dwarf said as they walked out.

  Terra led Alex to a gondola almost identical to the one they had ridden the night before. Whispers of “Nexus” and “Guardian” followed them. People moved back from the gate when they drew near. The gondola started moving upward toward the plateau.

  “I’m surprised that there is public transportation here. Do you know how it works?” Alex asked.

  Terra nodded. “The volcano is almost five miles across. There had to be some way to get around quickly. Before I was born, a Dwarf had the idea to use the hot pressurized air to create a system of gondolas to make travel on the inside of the volcano easier. The air heats up a boiler that makes steam push a mechanism causing the cables to move.”

  “A steam engine?” Alex said wonderingly.

  “Dwarves aren’t only masterful smiths and miners. They are also ingenious engineers. There’s also a system of elevators through the residential areas to make travel to the higher cave homes easier.” A few minutes later they arrived at the top of the plateau in the center of Adorac Volcano and exited the gondola.

  The ground that had been shattered and destroyed the previous night was almost completely smooth now. A group of dwarves wearing grey woolen robe
s chanted over an area of broken rock. The rock melded back together while Alex watched.

  “That’s cool,” he whispered. Terra heard his whisper and glanced in the direction he was looking. She smiled at his limitless wonder and led him over to the dwarves. They finished their chant as the couple approached. Each of the dwarves wore a golden pin on his cloak. It was the book and hammer of the Adorac Academy.

  “Alex, this is Dervin Grimm, Maestro and Headmaster of the Adorac Academy. Maestro, this is Alex Zane, Guardian of the Realm of Balance, my husband,” she said to the eldest Dwarf.

  The white-bearded Dwarf bowed his head. “You do me too much honor, Nexus,” he said in a voice lacking much of the dwarven accent. “It is a pleasure, Guardian. If you ever wish to discover the secrets of the stone, please come by the academy. We have the largest library on Dae since the Arcane City fell, and it is open to you.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said.

  “Would you like my assistance with finishing, Maestro?” Terra asked.

  “Oh, Nexus, you are too generous. I couldn’t ask that of you, we still have many hours of work ahead of us.”

  “It is no problem,” she said.

  “I would be honored then,” the ancient Dwarf said.

  Terra knelt and placed a hand on the stone plateau. Alex noticed that just over half of it was still broken. He studied Terra’s movements. A few seconds passed, and her hand sank a few inches into the rock. Pulling it out, the stone rose under her hand as if there was a bubble beneath the surface. She pushed back down, and a ripple went through the rock as if it were water.

  Alex bounced as the small wave of stone passed under him. Everywhere it went left flat stone in the ripple’s passing. In seconds, the plateau was back to what it had been before his fight with the Battlesuit.

  “That should do it,” Terra said, brushing pebbles from her hand. She stood and put her arm around Alex.