by RF Hurteau
“Nonsense, you didn’t even try!” snapped Felix, “We aren’t going to just let him die!”
But he looked down at his hands again, and he knew it wouldn’t take an expert to come to the same conclusion Tobias had. Despite the pressure, Thoris Wilks’ shirt was soaked through, and he lay in a growing black puddle on the floor. Felix’s knees were coated in the warm, thick fluid. He looked at Thoris’ face again. His eyes seemed to be searching for something, rolling wildly back and forth, his mouth still working soundlessly. Felix took one hand away from the wound and grabbed the back of Thoris’ head, lifting it as gently as he was able. The eyes stopped their frantic search and fixed on Felix. They were full of terror, shock, disbelief.
Thoris Wilks had not expected to die this way.
“You hang in there,” Felix said softly. A wave of guilt swept over him. He should have been kinder to the man when he’d had the chance. Thoris had extended a hand of friendship, and Felix had treated him as an enemy. “You hang in there a little while longer. It’ll be okay.”
Thoris’ head jerked in an almost imperceptible nod. The terror in his eyes faded, and for a moment, he seemed almost peaceful. His pupils went wide, as if grasping for light in the gathering darkness. Felix felt nauseous, and he fought to maintain his composure. And then, without a scream, or a last word, or a reason why, Thoris Wilks slipped quietly away into death.
* * *
The reality of the situation still hadn’t quite set in as Felix struggled to find solutions to the host of problems that had suddenly presented themselves. When Thoris had at last gone still, Felix had rushed outside to relieve himself of his last meal. Then he and Tobias had brought the body out of the ship, covering it with a thin blanket. Penelope had woken up to find them all covered in varying degrees of blood and panicked, and she was now sitting quietly against the trunk of a nearby tree, quivering as she attempted to process her thoughts. Ambrose was trying to establish what had been damaged inside, but he was clearly flustered. Felix and Tobias were walking around the ship, inspecting the fuselage in the dim light of a waning moon.
Ambrose came out of the hatch, shaking his head. “The good news is, there isn’t any broken glass to contend with. If we can seal up those bullet holes, we’ll be pretty airtight.”
“Good,” said Felix. “What’s the bad news?”
“Well, she won’t start, first off. And it’s likely I won’t have much of an idea why until daylight.”
“And?”
“And,” Ambrose continued, “I’m not so sure where we are. When we got through the Gate, it was all I could do to put her down without tearing her apart. We sailed over some trees for a ways before she gave out and we ended up here.” He looked around. “Wherever here is.”
Penelope had stood up, and she approached them now. Her hair shone in the moonlight, and her eyes glistened. An ugly bruise darkened her forehead. “What are we going to do about—about Mr. Wilks?”
Felix looked over at the figure outlined beneath the blanket. “We’re going to bury him,” he decided.
“Here? On Thera?”
“We can’t exactly get him back to Earth, now can we?” Felix reasoned. “I imagine he’d kind of like it. First Minister of Pravacordia through Antiquity’s Gate. I’m certain he’d understand.” Felix paused, considering this. "He seemed like an understanding kind of guy."
She nodded. “Probably. It just feels wrong somehow. To have this be his final resting place. I didn’t know much about him. I don’t even know if he has any family.” She sighed, looking up at the sky. “It’s so strange. It doesn’t feel that much different than Earth, does it?”
“That’s because it is Earth, technically speaking,” responded Tobias. “Or at least, a version of it. Antiquity’s Gate doesn’t lead to another world. Rather, an alternate one.”
Penelope looked at him, puzzled. “What do you mean, an alternate one? An alternate Earth?”
Felix was surprised. Every child in Sanctuary had learned the history of the Thera-Earth connection. Thera and Earth were not two different planets, but rather, alternate realities that existed at the same time, in the same space, just on different planes. Antiquity’s Gate was the bridge that made travel between them possible. He wasn't entirely sure how this had been determined. He hadn't paid that much attention. But as far as he knew, it was a point of fact.
“You mean all this time, you had no idea where Antiquity’s Gate led?” he asked her.
She shrugged. “A lot of knowledge was lost during the Sequencing,” she replied simply. “But that doesn’t make sense, does it? I mean, our Gate is in the south pole, but theirs is…wherever this is. Somewhere warm.”
Tobias frowned. “I had wondered that myself. But at this point the only thing we can state with certainty is that there are differences between the two realities. The Gate, I suppose, being one of them.”
Felix looked around. “I’m going to check out the area,” he said.
“I’ll go with you!” Tobias said, but Felix shook his head.
“Stay here. Find something to dig with. I’ll travel faster on my own. Don’t worry, I’ll take the radio.”
Felix set off, uncertain exactly what he was looking for. His intention had been to find out how far they were from the Gate, but he couldn’t even be certain they’d travelled in a straight line. In truth, he really just wanted to be alone for a while. Wilks’ death had shaken him to the core. He needed some time and space to think.
The orientation of the ship was all he had to go by, so he started there. Long strides led him quickly out of sight of his friends. He hadn’t travelled far when light began peeking through the canopy of trees overhead, and the sounds of night creatures began to fade, replaced by the morning songs of unfamiliar birds. Although confident that he could find his way back to the ship, after about thirty minutes Felix began to lose hope of stumbling upon the Gate. The one upside seemed to be that there was little risk of the Therans stumbling upon Pluto and her crew.
He heard the bubbling of water and followed it to a small brook, where he stooped, plunging in his blood-crusted hands. As he scrubbed at them, a translucent red trail formed, streaming away. He thought about Wilks, about how he'd gone out of his way to try to get to know him and Willow. Thinking back, he realized that he'd viewed the committee as a single entity. He hadn't really seen individual faces up there on that dais, but rather, one being holding their fate in a dispassionate hand. He tried to remember Thoris Wilks up there, just Wilks. Had he offered them a reassuring smile? Had he spoken up in their defense?
He washed his face and took a long drink. Standing up, he looked around, deciding to follow the brook for a bit. He snapped a small sapling in half to mark the spot where he’d started.
The water soon widened, and before long, he came upon a small, rotting wooden bridge. A path led away in either direction, but it hadn’t been used in some time. Weeds and small trees had taken it over, reclaiming it for the forest. Still, it was something to go on. He followed it, walking more cautiously now.
The trees thinned, and Felix stepped off the path to conceal himself behind one of them to take inventory of the scene before him.
A small village lay before him in a neatly kept clearing. A few dozen houses lined the dirt path and its offshoots. Though not impressive in scale, they all looked well cared for, with neatly carved stone walls and brightly colored wooden doors. Quaint, flower-lined walkways led up to the houses. Elves strolled about in the early morning light, tending livestock and gardens. Several children played on the path, drawing in the dirt with sticks. Felix looked down, inspecting his clothes critically. The brown cloth of his sleeves and the knees of his pants were covered in blood, but he’d been kneeling in the mud by the stream, and his sleeves were such a deep brown that he was fairly certain nobody would know the stains there were blood. He looked back up at the picturesque village.
He doubted anyone in this place was on the Elder Council. It could be good practice to try passing himself
off as an Elf here. He was a quick thinker in this kind of situation, and if he could bluff his way through a few encounters here, he might manage to make it back to his team with directions back to Antiquity’s Gate, or some other information that might be useful. He decided that, given their circumstances, it was not only an acceptable risk, but a reasonable one. He took a deep breath before stepping back out on the path, then strode with casual confidence toward the village.
Felix knew something was wrong almost immediately. His eyes locked with a Theran man in front of the home closest to him, and the man stumbled backwards, eyes wide with fear. He turned quickly and entered the home, shutting the door behind him.
No eye contact! Felix chastised himself. Damn. Okay, next time I’ll do better. He kept walking, his gait slightly more hesitant than before. A woman with a basket was kneeling in a small garden, and he approached her. He focused on her lips as he offered a small nod, but looked up despite himself when they started to tremble. She, too, looked afraid. She looked at the children in the street, and Felix followed her gaze. They had stopped playing, and were staring at him. One turned and ran down the path, disappearing around the bend. The others dispersed more slowly, walking backwards, as if afraid to turn their backs on Felix. One child, no more than eight or nine years old, walked up to the trembling woman and placed his hand in hers, guiding her to the house, looking over his shoulder at Felix the whole time.
In all this, no one had spoken a word. Felix looked around, and realized with a start that he was now alone. He stood quietly for a few moments, uncertain what he should do now. This had not gone even remotely according to plan.
Movement caught his eye as the child who had raced away now came back into sight, trailing slightly behind a large man with broad shoulders and a furrowed brow. Felix found his appearance surprising, as most Therans were lithe, built tall and graceful. This man was tall, certainly, but he was far from graceful. His boots hit the dirt path with a heavy tread as he stomped determinedly toward Felix. Felix felt himself tensing, and forced his body to relax.
The man didn’t look Felix in the eye—he didn’t even look at his face. He stared instead at Felix’s boots as he offered a curt but insincere nod. “I assure you, your Lordship, that whatever reason you have for coming here today, it’s unnecessary. She never leaves. She barely eats. She just tends her garden or sits and stares out the window. I promise you she’s not caused any trouble.”
A moment ago, Felix had thought he could not possibly be more confused. Now he knew that wasn’t the case. Felix felt so unaware of what was happening that it was comical. He let out an involuntary laugh that came out as an indignant-sounding huff as he tried to stifle it. The man flinched.
“You’d like to see for yourself, of course,” the man added with more deference than before.
Felix thought quickly. The man had called him a lord. The entire village had mistaken him for someone important and, by their reaction, threatening. He thought about Willow’s father, Nero, and his pompous arrogance. He channeled every ounce of will he had into making himself appear, and sound, like that.
“Of course, I want to see for myself!” he snapped. “I didn’t come all this way to stand in the street chatting with the likes of you.”
Not bad, Felix found himself thinking. A little risky, but not bad at all. When the man didn’t argue, Felix decided to push his luck. He placed his hands on his hips and spoke in a loud, accusatory tone.
“Do you have any idea where I came from?” he growled.
“Uh, Imradia, my Lord?” the man replied, uncertainly.
Okay, that’s a start. “And do you have any idea where Imradia is?”
“Thirty miles south of here, my Lord.”
Beautiful. That was enough for now.
“Thirty miles south of here,” he repeated, slowly, for effect. “Thirty miles! Then surely you understand that I’ve travelled a long way, and I’m not in the mood for questions!”
“Of course, my Lord,” the man said, considerably meeker than he’d been at the start of the conversation.
Felix followed close behind as the man turned back the way he had come, reminding himself to stand straight, strutting now with an air of superiority. He glanced around, looking down his nose at the empty gardens and the curious eyes of onlookers in the windows. Don’t overplay it, he heard Willow warning him in his mind. He sighed, toning down his performance. Even if she was just in his head, his wife still managed to be as wise as ever.
They walked in silence until they came to a fork in the path, and the man led him up a small hill to a house that lay alone in a grove of oak trees. This house was larger than the others, but more neglected. The door, a pale green, had faded to near white, peeling paint dotting the rough wooden surface. There was a garden out front, but the weeds appeared heartier than the vegetables. Felix could see a few pathetic tomatoes, their smooth red flesh peering out from beneath the shade of some tall, thick-bladed grass that commanded most of the fenced area. The man stopped at the front door and rapped softly with his knuckles.
“It’s me,” he called. “You have a visitor.”
“Go away,” came a reply from within.
The man looked hesitantly between the door and Felix, who looked around with feigned indifference. “I’m sorry, Onyx. We’re coming in.”
He pushed the door open, and it gave a squeak of protest. He walked into the home and Felix followed.
A woman sat on a wooden chair, hands folded serenely in her lap. Her hair was a mass of dark curls that surrounded her face like a frame as she stared out the window at nothing in particular. Felix wasn’t sure what to do with himself and was debating whether or not to say something when she sighed and turned to look at him.
As their eyes met, Felix felt his heart stop. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing. He forgot everything Willow had taught him and moved toward the woman, reaching out a hand. The face, the face was exactly the same as he remembered. Thirty years had not added a single wrinkle to the smooth skin or dulled the piercing green eyes. It was the same face as he’d seen over and over again in his dreams, the same lips that had kissed him goodnight so long ago. She pulled her arm back with a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes narrowed in anger. He stopped moving.
"Leave us, Gavin,” she commanded, her tone cold. The man nodded and stepped out.
“Mother?” Felix breathed, unbelieving.
Her glowering eyes did not soften. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
six
Past Tense
Felix had to remind himself to keep breathing. There were too many emotions, all vying for his attention, shock and confusion jumbled up with joy and excitement. There was anger in there, somewhere, too. He stared at the woman, who sat so calmly before him, her eyes cold, and wondered briefly if he’d lost his mind.
“What are you doing here?” she asked again. Had she forgotten him? How could she sit there across the room from the son she had not seen in thirty years and question him? Felix’s shock shrank away, allowing the anger to rise to the surface.
“What am I doing here?” he asked, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”
“How dare you!” she snapped, rising to her feet. She didn’t approach him, but instead moved closer to the window, gripping the sill tightly with both hands. “How dare you come here, to my house, and play these games. I’m tired of it! Go back where you came from—leave me alone.”
The anger subsided, and confusion returned to fill the void where it had been. “Mother,” he began again, his voice rife with pain.
“I stopped being your mother long ago.” She gripped the sill harder, her knuckles white, her whole body trembling with rage. “Get. Out.” she said slowly.
Felix made no move to leave. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
She whirled on him, her next words coming out in a scream. “Get out!” She looked down at the small table beside her chair, grabbed the first thing she saw, and hurled it at him.
Felix caught it instinctively, inches from his face. He opened his palm to see what it was, and found himself looking at yet another missing piece of his past. A tiny quartz figurine, so detailed that it seemed as though it might open its mouth and speak.
“Father made this for you,” he whispered. “I remember. He stopped carving them when you left. Said it hurt too much.”
His mother, chest heaving, looked up at him. A change came over her face. The hatred was gone, replaced with bewilderment. She walked toward him, slowly, and he stepped backward. She ignored the movement and reached up, pressing her hands gently to the sides of his face, studying him.
“Felix?” she said softly. He nodded, hesitantly. With a cry, she threw her arms around him and gripped him so tightly that he struggled to breathe. “Felix,” she sobbed. “Oh Felix, Felix. My son, my beautiful son!” Felix’s hesitation melted away, and he returned the embrace, letting her weep against his chest. When at last she pulled away, she reached up, brushing wetness from his cheeks, and he realized he had been crying, too.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he said. She gestured toward the kitchen, and he followed her in. They sat, and she rested a gentle hand on his knee, as if afraid that if she stopped touching him, he might disappear. Felix looked down at his hands, one still clutching the tiny figurine. He closed his fingers over it tightly. “No, maybe I do. Why’d you throw this at me? Shout at me? Why is everyone acting afraid of me?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “They—we—thought you were someone else,” she said.
He could feel his anger stirring again. “Honestly! I knew you the second I saw your face. How could you look me in the eye and not recognize your own son? I know I was just a boy, I know it’s been thirty years, but still–”
Sudden understanding washed over him, and he leapt from his chair, sending it toppling to the floor. Of course, how had he not realized it sooner?
Tears fell from her eyes once more. “I did recognize my son,” she said, “Just the wrong one. Oh Felix, he looks just like you. So much like you.” She put her hand over her mouth, trying to regain her composure. “They told me you were dead! Laevus said Sanctuary was destroyed. That he’d helped them do it. That was when I knew—really knew—that I’d lost him.”