Archanum Manor

by Michael Pierce

  “No, sir. Just an observation.” Icarus threw his shovel up and over the edge and used both hands to climb out of the hole like an experienced rock climber. His shiny helmet of a hairdo was disheveled from the labor, falling into his face and sticking up at severe angles. He tried to flatten it as best as he could with his dirty hands.

  Malakye clambered out of the hole a few shovelfuls later. “Are you ready for this?” He clapped Eli on the back, hard enough to make him readjust his balance as to not fall into his open grave prematurely.

  “Umm…I guess so,” Eli stammered.

  “Your gun,” Kafka instructed.

  Eli reached into the backside of his jeans, handed it over, and asked, “What was yours?”

  “I was burned alive in a past life—a life before this current journey began. A gift from Bryten.”

  Everyone gathered around the hole like preparing for a eulogy. Kafka placed a hand on Eli’s shoulder, who appreciated the fatherly gesture, something he never felt like he received back home.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done for us in the short time you’ve been here—everything you’ve done for me,” Kafka said, gazing down into the hole. “All that I’ve asked of you. Receptive of everything I’ve taught you. And this is your reward, something I’ve never offered so quickly. I do not take this next step lightly—this next step in your journey. I am putting my trust in you, and now you must do the same. Do you remember everything I’ve told you?”

  “This is a hard way to go,” Icarus said.

  “Is there an easy way to go?” Tomarah asked, her golden hair unruly in the breeze, whipping across her delicate face.

  “They’re all hard, Eli,” Kafka said. “That’s why this will change who you are, shape your destiny. What’s your daediem’s name?”

  “Jag Hellion,” Eli replied.

  “Is he here?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s going to help you out and then he’s going to take you. There’s only one way back.” Kafka nodded to Icarus and Malakye to pick up their shovels.

  “I understand,” Eli said.

  “Are you scared?” Lazarus asked.

  “Yes,” Eli repeated.

  “You should be,” Kafka said. “This is your test. But we’ve all been through it—and we’ve all returned. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then get in.”

  Eli took a deep breath—maybe his last deep breath—and climbed into the hole (his open grave), lay down in the cold earth, and crossed his hands over his chest. He stared up at the five powerful pairs of eyes gazing down on him, their dark bodies backlit by the rising sun, and thought to himself that he might already be dead.

  I can do this.

  It was little reassurance. His windpipe seized up and his lungs burned. It was already happening. He couldn’t stop it. All he needed was one more breath, but he couldn’t suck any air into his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe!

  The first shovelful of dirt hit him in the chest.

  I can’t do this.

  The second shovelful of dirt landed on his legs.

  Full panic set in instantaneously. He tried to cry for help, but nothing but a croak escaped his throat. He couldn’t lie here passively.

  “This is why it’s a phobia. Fighting will only make it worse,” Kafka called down from high above, from so far away, but Eli was beyond rational understanding.

  Eli tried to scramble to his feet, needing to crawl up to safety before—before it was too late.

  I can’t do this!

  The third shovelful of earth landed on his head, knocking him back to the ground. The fourth covered his face completely, filling his open mouth as he tried to pull in one last breath.

  Oh God, what have I done!

  14

  Dome in the Desert

  I took a lengthy hot shower to wake up from my long, eventful night. Nicholae had returned my handgun. I dressed in black clothes provided by the camp, my shoulder holster, bulletproof vest, and a black suede jacket to conceal my weapon. Logan was awake, but still lying in bed. I didn’t stop and explain to him where I was going, and just said I’d see him later like I was on my way to an early breakfast. Hopefully, it was the truth.

  I was the last to arrive in the training building, where the group was instructed to meet. Nicholae, Erik, and Cassandra all looked anxious to leave like I had set back the departure time by a few hours.

  “Oh, come on. I’m not late,” I said, joining the circle.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Nicholae replied.

  “Technically speaking, dawn broke thirty-seven minutes ago,” Erik offered. “Just saying.”

  Nicholae shrugged, but quickly got us on track. “No use wasting any more time.” He handed me a black gas mask with a green-tinted visor and a small canister attached to the chin guard.

  I noticed Erik and Cassandra held similar masks down at their sides.

  “What’s this for?” I asked.

  “You’ll want it where we’re going. Now take my hand and close your eyes. I’ve only done this once and it didn’t involve taking someone else. I’d like to get this right with one try.”

  I knew the drill, so I did what I was told, and did my best to match his powerful grip.

  I didn’t hear much of a difference when we transferred to the new plane, but I felt the heat immediately like stepping out of an air-conditioned house into direct summer sunlight. When I opened my eyes I got my first glimpse of a new wasteland. There was a dusting of gray snow under foot, with flurries still coming down from the angry orange and gray sky. But it was far too hot for snow. No—it wasn’t snow, but ashes. The clouds overhead were clouds of smoke, with flurries of ash raining down all around us.

  This wasn’t the shell of the falling plane we’d ventured through in trying to save the final two guardians, though this world seemed just as dead. We stood in a deserted field of burnt grass and skeletal low-lying shrubs. Black and naked trees were sparsely scattered throughout the desert. Small pockets of flames danced in every direction. Off in the distance, what was left of a forest was completely ablaze, as was a mountain range beyond. Nothing was alive, yet everything still burned. We’d walked right into Hell.

  My lungs burned in the thick air, reminding me of the gas mask dangling from my left hand. We all seemed to don our masks in unison, making us look like a post-apocalyptic gang of thugs. Our surroundings added to the motif.

  “What now? Which direction?” I asked.

  “We had discussed going north, checking out areas close to where the guardians had been. Seems like the most logical places to start,” Nicholae said, his voice thin and tinny from the mask.

  A wooden door appeared before us and swung inward, but the door didn’t vanish from view when it entered its new destination. It remained in view, just on the opposite side of the frame.

  “That’s strange,” Nicholae said and stepped through the open doorframe, which led just beyond the threshold. He circled around the frame and was right back where he’d started within a few steps.

  “And useless,” Erik said.

  “Just like the cave of the last guardian. Remember?” Cassandra said.

  “That’s right,” Erik exclaimed.

  The door vanished and we were left again to dumbly survey the terrain.

  “What’s that?” I asked, seeing what looked like a small metal dome off in the distance. It shined like it was reflecting nearby flames on its convex surface. From the heat and fires, far off images seemed to flow like water, making them hard to definitively make out. Even a distorted burning forest still looked like a forest, but what I saw as a metal dome in the middle of all this earthly ruin could have been anything.

  “Let’s check it out,” Nicholae said, to which he led the trek toward the burning forest and the strange reflecting dome.

  Without a door, it took us at least an hour to reach what was indeed a dome clad in reflective metal triang
les. The sun was behind thick clouds of smoke, which made it feel like the day had passed by without me noticing.

  As we neared the oddly placed structure, it became more than a small dome in the sand. It was about the size of my one-story house on Wheeler. I was carrying my jacket and had rolled up my shirt sleeves after the first quarter mile. The burning forest loomed like a backdrop and the heat had become almost unbearable. Sweat poured into my eyes and my labored breathing fogged up the lens of my gas mask, forcing me to lift it every few minutes to clear it out. Every time I lifted the mask, my lungs caught fire, throwing me into a coughing fit. It was a vicious cycle between seeing and breathing.

  “Did you see that?” I asked, pointing to the front line of candle-lit trees, my mask pushed up. Beyond the dancing flames, I thought I saw something else moving within the inferno. But like a flicker, it was gone.

  “What?” Erik asked.

  “I think I saw something, too,” Cassandra said.

  “Care to elaborate?” Nicholae asked, removing his mask and spitting onto the lens. He spread the spittle around with two fingers.

  “Something moving,” I said. “I think it was something moving in the forest.”

  “We haven’t seen a single living thing since we arrived here. No birds overhead. No flies buzzing around us. No critters scurrying underfoot. Nothing.”

  “Something was certainly scurrying in the fire,” Cassandra said.

  I couldn’t quite share her conviction, but I didn’t think what I saw was another mirage.

  “I can’t say I’m fond of this place,” Erik said.

  I joined the general consensus that the feeling was mutual.

  Nicholae turned his attention back to the metal dome. There was an outline of a door made of the same material as the rest of the structure. Nicholae stood before it, a fragmented image of himself reflecting back. He was just about to knock, when the door opened.

  A small figure stepped out in a silver, reflective foil suit, complete with identical gloves and boot covers. Over his head he wore a silver helmet with a trunk-like tube extending to a backpack made of similar material to his suit.

  “I thought I heard voices,” a robotic voice projected from what appeared to be small speakers in the helmet. “It looks like rain. Please come in. Come in. Come in.”

  I looked up in search of rain clouds, but didn’t see a single one. It was still raining ashes, if that’s what he was talking about.

  Our new host stepped out into the ember flurries to clear the doorway and ushered us into his metallic hut.

  The inside of the dome reminded me of an elaborate bomb shelter. There was a small kitchenette, a wooden table with one chair, a plush recliner, a twin size bed, and numerous cabinets built into the curved walls. The floor was bare concrete with several throw rugs placed in strategic areas. Walls jutting out from one corner seemed to close off a bathroom. Otherwise, the inside was one open space. The entire sloped ceiling and walls glowed a natural white, providing all the light needed inside. And the air in the building was cool, almost cold after adjusting from the heat from outside.

  Our host walked toward some shelves by the bathroom. He shimmied off the backpack and disconnected the tube extending to his helmet before setting it down. He removed his helmet next and a mop of flat, greasy dark hair fell around his face—her face, down slightly past her chin. I hadn’t expected a woman. Her lips were thin, her face pock marked, and there was only the slightest hint of breasts in the curve of the silver suit.

  “My name is Te,” the woman said in a raspy voice, like she hadn’t used it in quite some time. There was a Velcro seam down the front of the suit, which hid a zipper. She peeled the suit down, crackling like tinfoil as she slipped out one limb at a time. Beneath she only wore gray sweat shorts and a tank top. Her breasts weren’t much bigger without the suit or a bra. Between the hollow of her chest hung a silver pendant with an intricate circular maze design, reminiscent of the DNA Brands of Provex City. The middle of the maze housed a capital “A.” Her skin was covered in freckles and red blotches. “Have you been traveling long? I don’t like to be outside myself.”

  “No,” Nicholae said, pacing around the big open room. “What is this place?”

  “This is my home,” Te said. “Allow me to get you refreshments. What would you like? Tea? I like tea. What are your names? Please tell me about yourselves. What was your crime? Why have you been cast into exile? And all of you together...it must have been something...”

  “Whoa, slow down,” Nicholae said and started by introducing himself, by first name only, then urging us to do the same. “What’s this about exile?”

  “Would you like some tea?” she asked again.

  “Please, that would be great. Wh—”

  “Anyone have an aversion to tea?”

  The rest of us shook our heads.

  Te rushed to the kitchenette, grabbing mugs, pouring water, setting down a tin of loose-leaf tea, and scooping some into small mesh balls with tong-like handles. She stirred the water in each mug with the tongs holding the tea, and the water began to boil in each mug within just a few rotations.

  “What is this place—not your home, but outside. Were you banished here?” Nicholae asked.

  “Oh yes,” Te said, walking a steaming mug to Nicholae, cupping it protectively in both hands. “I had to accept responsibility for the actions of my daediem. The verdict was just—fifteen years in Purgatorie.”

  “Delivered by whom?” Nicholae asked.

  “Who else? Sir Archanum.”

  “You know Bryten Archanum?” Nicholae asked.

  It felt good, like we were getting somewhere fast.

  “I know Sir and Madame Archanum,” she answered, bringing mugs of tea for the rest of us. “You must know. You’re here, too.”

  “Yes, of course,” Nicholae said and slurped loudly. “But you must know the way back.”

  “You should know that you can’t return from Purgatorie until your sentence is served. How is your tea? How long have you been wandering?”

  “Very good, thank you,” Cassandra said.

  “Not long,” Nicholae said.

  “What did your daediem do? Or was it you?” Te grabbed a mug for herself and repeated the brewing routine. “I love my tea. It reminds me of home. Why have you not built a house for yourselves? It’s dangerous to remain outside. I don’t like to go outside much. I mostly stay in here and count down the days.”

  “How long has it been?” Erik asked.

  “Nine years, four months, and thirteen days. I keep track, waiting for the day I’ll be summoned home. But now you’re here. It feels so good to have someone to talk to. The Scorched Ones can’t talk. Have you come across them yet? Terrible creatures, they are.”

  “What are the Scorched Ones?” I asked, immediately thinking of what I saw moving within the burning forest.

  Nicholae looked genuinely curious as well.

  Te turned to Erik and Cassandra. “You can’t keep your boys sheltered here. You seem like a nice family. Where are your medallions? If you’re thinking of taking mine, it will only save one of you.”

  “If you’re afraid of us stealing your medallion, then why are you keeping us as guests in your house?”

  “I’m not afraid,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re the first travelers I’ve seen in four years, two months, and twenty-one days.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “It’s been a long time. I had a cat. Her name was Maury. The Scorched Ones got her eighteen days into my sentence. There was nothing I could do.”

  “They just came and took your cat?”

  “No living thing is safe without a medallion provided by Sir Archanum. They ate her and left.” She shook her head, trying to shake the image from her memory. “So you were not given medallions and not turned into Scorched Ones, just sentenced to death by the Scorched Ones... What did you do to deserve such a fate? Do you want to share with your boys what awaits you?”

  E
rik shook his head, trying to convey that he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Then I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but I will be unable to protect you when they come. Please sit down. Over here. Come, come. I want you to be comfortable as long as you can. Are you unable to build your own shelter? I’m so sorry; I thought that was a common ability.”

  Nicholae suppressed a laugh. He was about to say something when Te began talking again.

  “Are you able to create your own food? There isn’t much available here. No water, either. If you can’t, then you have bigger problems than the Scorched Ones. Can I make you something to eat? Are you hungry?” She was directing her last two questions at Nicholae and me.

  “I’m fine,” Nicholae said. “We must speak with Sir Archanum. You must know the way back.”

  “You can’t go back,” she said.

  “I understand. But theoretically, if we could, what is the way back?”

  “How did you get here?” Te turned to what appeared to be the adults again.

  “Don’t remember,” Erik said.

  “I see. Your case is very peculiar, but what do I know. Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat.”

  We finally submitted and allowed her to fix us a meal, insisting it be one of her choosing. She was reluctant to give us any real straightforward information. We had to pull nuggets of information from the roundabout things she said. There was no denying we were a strange case. She didn’t seem to be aware of other planes of awareness below here and we didn’t want to specifically bring it up and shatter her seemingly fragile reality. Her thoughts and attention seemed scattered enough from her years of solitude.

  The first sounds of the approaching creatures outside were heard about an hour later, just as it was becoming obvious that Nicholae was itching to leave. Te continued to keep us entertained at all costs.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” she cried. “You’ve only just arrived. No, no, no, not yet.” She ran back to where she’d hung her silver suit and started by shoving her short legs inside. “They want to come in. They will eventually get in if I do not open the door.”