by R. T. Kaelin
None of his alien nursemaids tried to stop him as he swung his legs over the litter’s side. He got his first decent look at the contraption then—a simple wheeled cart pulled by a dozen of the larger locals. They’d dragged him up there themselves—no engine, not even a pack animal.
“You saved their children?” asked the woman.
“You speak their language?” replied Dex. He looked at the woman. There wasn’t anything particularly telling about her. She had a light melter slung over one shoulder, but her smartsuit was civilian. He nodded at the burning wreckage of the Triss ship. “Your handiwork?”
“Nope. I assumed it was yours,” she answered. “Triss prison ship, right?”
Dex nodded and looked down the side of the plateau and rode out a moment of vertigo. They’d really gone up high. There was almost nothing left of the wreckage now, twisted metal and smoke, mostly. There must have been more explosions when he was drifting in and out of consciousness.
“Shame about Blillgoo,” the woman said.
He looked at her askance. “Blillgoo?”
“The city. Blillgoo. We were on our way down to see if we could help—” she waved a hand to his left where a dozen other humans clustered around a civilian crawler “—but it looks like you beat us to it. The chief here says you’re quite the hero.”
Dex shook his head. He’d never been called a hero, because he’d never tried to be one. He detected a warm feeling blooming growing in his chest, but quickly tamped it down. “What is this ball?”
“Katanoi,” she replied. “0467 Katanoi. Your ride was probably headed to Zed. A Triss mining stir.” She cocked an eyebrow. “You must have been a bad boy.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied, swallowing. She eyed him for a moment, stared back down the hill to the ruined village, and then looked at the collection of purple aliens. “I’d say all this counts as time served.” She smiled at him again. “Let’s see what we can do about that arm.”
*
Don’t Wake Me Up
by Tracy Chowdhury
How long I lay there I couldn't say. I only knew that time passed because one moment it was light, the scattered rays of the sun touching my exposed flesh, and the next it was dark, the pale light of the moons only vaguely reaching me beyond the forest canopy above. When the hurt forced me awake long enough to form coherent thought, I carefully removed the remains of my torn tunic and placed the dirty cloth between my legs. The pain was like a terrible gnawing ache that took my breath away, and for a while I gave all my attention to just breathing. At some point, I wondered why the wild animals didn’t come for me, for certainly the scent of blood was strong. Even they would have been preferable to the agony of lying there on the ground and dying a slow death.
Two days passed, maybe three. I lay in a pathetic heap on the damp ground near the stream where I had dragged myself. Fever ran rampant through my battered body and old blood soaked the cloth between my thighs. Black and blue bruises covered the places I could see, and most likely they covered the rest of me too. The myriad cuts were surrounded by hot, dark red flesh. The insects had arrived full force, and I could feel additional discomfort as they terrorized the rope burns on my wrists, the cuts on my face, and the deep lacerations on my chest and belly. Somewhere in the depths of my mind I knew that I was dying. Only something magical could save me.
Like a figment from my most wondrous dreams, the unicorn came. Through blurred vision, I watched the beautiful animal walk slowly towards me. I blinked and it was suddenly standing over me, regarding me from sorrowful, golden-brown eyes. I was convinced that the mystical creature had come to bear me away into the netherworld. Knowing that unicorns are heavenly beasts, coming only to those who are good of heart and pure of soul, I felt comforted. It was my mind’s way of telling me that everything would finally be all right; that I would find peace at last.
The unicorn lowered his head and brought it closer, closer, closer. The silvery, soft muzzle touched my swollen face, gently blowing warm breath over my eyes, nose, and mouth. Then the head lowered even more, stopping only when the tip of opalescent, spiraled horn touched the terrible oozing wound on my belly. A sensation of warmth suffused me. The feeling intensified as well as the pain. I tried to cry out, but all that emerged was a croak, my bruised throat so swollen that nothing more would come.
However, the sensation was brief. Within moments the agony was gone, and when I shifted my weight on the ground, there was significantly less pain. The remaining warmth was soothing and slowly encompassed my ribs, pelvis, chest, and thighs. Soon my entire body was bathing in the healing heat. For a long time I lay there, luxuriating in it. Finally able to open my eyes more widely, I saw the unicorn’s horn glowing a soft yellow. A realization began to dawn on me, and my mind began to whirl. Perhaps I wasn’t dead after all, and this unicorn wasn’t merely an illusion…
I blink the memories away in an attempt to stay in the present. Some moments are more difficult than others, especially when first awakening from sleep. I look down at the street from where I sit at the window, taking in the view with detached interest. Once, I had anticipated coming to the mystical city of Andahye. But that was before the ambush, before Nahum’s death, before my tortured violation at the hands of the mercenary men. Now I watch the passersby like I am viewing people with another person’s eyes.
I turn away from the window. I can’t help but ruminate over the recent horrific events, my mind caught up in them during every moment of every day and night. That wondrous unicorn had saved my wretched life, carried me through the Sheldomar Forest to the timberline. He couldn’t travel with me outside the protection of the trees, but only one day of traveling on foot remained to the place that would take me to my destination. After bidding the unicorn farewell, I had then journeyed alone. I deviated from the main path, just as Nahum had once instructed during one of the many days we had spent on our journey. By the time I reached the rock-strewn area in which the hidden entry to the city was located, I had begun to feel the chilly touch of fever. The unicorn hadn’t been able to heal me, only keep me alive long enough to reach my destination. Only a skilled priest could completely repair me. Somehow, I had remembered the specific details that Nahum had told me-the precise location of the entryway to the city, as well as the arcane words I needed to speak aloud in order to access the path. In my weakening condition, it had taken another half-day’s search to find the two large boulders with the image of a trio of stars inscribed into each one, and I barely had the strength to whisper the required words. My eyes had widened when the area before me shifted to reveal a path leading into a city I had only heard about in stories. As I’d stepped onto the glittery trail, I took one last look behind me-saw the late afternoon position of the sun, the rocky field that I had searched, and a glimpse of silvery white behind a boulder in the nearby distance. It was testimony that the magnificent unicorn had never truly left my side.
I slowly rise from my seat at the window and walk across the small chamber. Once reaching the bed-pallet I ease myself down onto it. Now that I am finally recovering, the full impact of Nahum’s passing washes over me. I feel lost. It was only for him that I had bothered to take the journey to Andahye in the first place. He’d told me that I had great talent, and that if I came here, the Council of Mages would easily see it. One of the masters would take me as an apprentice, and I would be trained to become the great spellcaster I was born to be.
I lie down on the pallet and pull a blanket over me. The priests of Beory deserve recompense for helping the sickly scruff of a half-breed faelin girl they found on their doorstep little more than a seven-day ago, but I have no coin. They feel sorry for me; I see it in their eyes when they come to the chamber to see how I fare. Two days ago, one of them came to inform me that, because of the severity of my injuries, I might never bear children. The thought saddens me, but I had never given the idea much consideration before. Mayhap it is because I am st
ill so young, but more realistically, it probably has even more to do with my unfortunate upbringing. In all honesty, I don’t feel adequate. A child deserves a good life, so much more than I can ever dream of giving.
I move a hand to rest over my belly. The mercenaries hurt me so deeply on so many levels. For some reason, that unicorn chose to save me. Each time he set his horn to me, I watched him age at least a decade. To most eyes, the change would be too subtle. But not for me. I’ve always had the uncanny ability to perceive some things.
Turning my head to the side, I bring an arm up to curve around a pillow and pull it close, resting my face on it. Even though the injuries to my body are healing, my mind remains an open wound. My dreams terrify me, and I awake every night screaming and drenched in sweat. I glance furtively around the chamber, my heart pounding in my chest, expecting one of the mercenary men to emerge from the shadows. Only when I realize no one is there can I relax and lay back down. I hate living like this, and I can’t help but wish the unicorn had simply left me there to die.
Warm tears fall onto the pillow. I have nothing. Not only do I not have coin to pay the priests for healing me or to buy decent clothes to wear, but I have no family. My mother died in childbed only several moments after my birth. My father blamed me for her death, and my childhood was lived with the knowledge that he despised me. My older brother left home when I was still a girl, and my twin sister left a few years later in the company of my father and uncle in a voluntary call to arms in a neighboring city. All I had was the woman who had been my surrogate mother and her embittered husband. The man had always treated me poorly, mayhap because I was the easiest target since I was at the house most often. My sister always had an escape that took shape in the form of training with our father. Somehow she had escaped his hatred in spite of the fact that we were born only moments apart.
The tears continue to fall. I am nothing. Not only do I have no family, but I have no sense of self-worth. Who was I to ask my father why he hated me so much? Who was I to speak up for myself against the schoolmaster when I was punished without cause, or to offer resistance against my surrogate father when he beat me? Who was I to care when my sister left to follow her selfish dreams to be a master sword-wielder and become rich with the gold people would offer to hire her?
Only Nahum thought I had something. He thought I had talent, great talent that would win me a place as an apprentice to one of the best arcane masters upon all of Ansalar.
Only Nahum thought I was worth something. He thought I was worth every moment of the time he spent preparing me to meet the Council of Mages.
Nahum, why have you left me? Why couldn’t you cast some spell against the mercenaries before they overwhelmed us? I don’t want to be here without you, in this strange city with even stranger residents.
I lie there on the pallet for quite a while. Evening shifts into night, and sleep comes and goes sporadically. One of the tyros brings a meal and places it on the table. The dawn of a new day arrives and I continue to allow sleep free reign. I still don’t leave the bed. The meal lays untouched on the small table. A priest knocks at the door. I don’t stir as he enters the room, enervated from the ill effects of lack of food and water. I have taken neither since realizing the futility of my continued existence.
“Adrianna?”
I blink my eyes open and struggle to focus. I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Adrianna, are you all right?”
A few moments pass before I reply in a low voice. “Don’t wake me up.”
The priest hesitates. “What was that you said?”
“Don’t wake me up,” I say again.
“My dear girl, that is exactly what I am here to do.”
I lie there and say nothing. The priest seats himself on the edge of the bed. Once more I feel his gentle hand on my shoulder. He urges me to lift myself up enough so that he can situate himself closer, and when I settle back down, his lap is under my head. A few moments pass and he pats my shoulder comfortingly. Somehow he knew what I needed without words to speak it.
The power of compassionate touch is great.
I begin to cry, softly at first, and then with great heaving sobs that wrack my body. Fat tears stream down my face to wet the fabric of his robe and he shushes me in a soothing voice until I am spent. Afterward, he simply waits a while before speaking into the pervading silence. “You feel sorry for yourself.” He pauses before continuing. “There is nothing wrong with that. Everyone feels that way once in a while.” He pauses again. “You feel there is nothing to live for. I am here to say that you are wrong. You have so much life left to live.”
I listen to his words and discard them. Really, how could he possibly understand my pain? He doesn’t know what it is like to be cast away by one’s family, abandoned to pursue better prospects. He doesn’t know what it is like to be violated and left to die in the middle of the forest. He doesn’t know what it is like to feel so low about their self that he can’t imagine having worth.
“I can tell what you are thinking,” he says. “I understand more than you realize. I can sit here and talk to you for hours about my trials in this life, but I am here to focus on you.”
I sit upright on the bed and regard him intently. His appearance is comely; his eyes colored blue and his hair a light brown. I think his name is Dristin. He returns my stare solemnly. I take a deep breath. I want to say something, but at the last moment, nothing comes out.
“My brothers, sisters and I have been worried about you. We decided that I should come and lead you away from the path of self-destruction you are walking towards, to tell you not to allow your anger and pain to consume you, and to make you realize there are many things you have in this life that others do not.”
I continue to regard him and, after a while, I cock my head. “What if I told you that I do realize what I have, but that it isn’t enough? I know that there are others out there who have suffered more, those who possess much less, and those who have no prospects for a future. Many of those people choose to forge onwards, to overcome whatever barriers are thrust before them and persevere against the odds.” I stop to shake my head. “I am not like those people, not anymore. I’m tired of forging onwards and constantly trying to overcome one trial after another. For once in my life I want peace.” Keeping care that I don’t cause myself too much discomfort, I move away from the priest to curl up on the other side of the bed. After a moment I speak again in a quiet voice. “When you and your brethren are ready for me to leave, just say so. But until then, please leave me alone.”
Silence reigns for several moments and Brother Dristin continues to sit there. I wonder when he will just give up and go away. That time doesn’t come. “Nahum would be disappointed,” he says.
I stiffen with the unexpected mention of my old friend’s name, and I open my eyes. Without turning I say, “How do you know Nahum?”
Brother Dristin shifts on the bed. “You spoke out loud in your delirium. As you already know, you were very sick when you arrived at our doorstep. At first we were uncertain that we would be able to save you.”
My breath tremors as I inhale. I blink rapidly to keep my tears at bay.
“We discovered how you had managed to survive for so many days when you spoke of the unicorn. You are very blessed to have deserved such attention.”
I exhale and take another tremulous inward breath. My chest begins to ache.
“Nahum believed in you. He believed that you were worthy enough to come all the way here to apprentice with one of the masters. The unicorn believed in you also. He believed that your life was worthy enough to allow his body to age every time he used his magic to keep you alive.”
I lay there without speaking. How ungrateful I must seem to this priest. I was so willing to throw my life away when there were others who had given so valiantly to my cause. So wrapped in my thoughts, I don’t realize Brother Dristin has moved until he is standing before me. His gaze is sorrowful.
“I believe in you too,
Adrianna,” he says. “I believe that Nahum and the unicorn were right about you and that you can do something great one day. You have only to give yourself the chance.” With that said, he turns and leaves the chamber.
I continue to lie there, his words running over and over again in my mind. Of course Brother Dristin is right. The efforts of both Nahum and the unicorn will be lost if I simply give up and allow Death to come for me. I hate the thought that Nahum’s demise will be for nothing. In this new light, I can’t help reconsidering my path.
* *** *
I walk through the streets of Andahye. I have acclimated myself to them the past few days since being declared well enough to move about outside the walls of the temple. I am wearing new clothing the Beorian priests had made for me: a long dark green skirt with matching blouse and vest, camisole and panties underneath, finished with finely made boots that laced up the front. When they presented the clothing to me I was overwhelmed. The priests had been too kind already, and I hadn’t the coin to pay them back for items that were more elaborate than any I’d ever owned before. They simply waved my protests away, telling me they had gold stashed away to use on people like me, people who came to them for help and deserved a little more.
I turn down the street that will take me to the Vanderlinde Academy. It is there I will stand before the Council of Mages and undergo Judgment. Once again I am battered by my insecurities. What if Nahum was wrong? What if my talent isn’t strong enough? I have only Nahum’s opinion on the caliber I possess. What if my resolve isn’t strong enough? If I waver in my conviction to pursue arcane apprenticeship, I will be denied entry into the academy. What if my intellect isn’t strong enough? Since education isn’t a prized commodity for most females in the city of Sangrilak where I grew up, I never received much basic schooling required of many prospective apprentices. I am self-taught in much of my reading and writing, and Nahum had helped me with mathematics. I remember him telling me that I grasped the more complex concepts very well for someone so young.