Oculus

by S. E. Akers

  I practically sprang out of my skin when Tanner nudged my arm. “What’s wrong?” he asked, no sooner than I’d landed.

  “Nothing,” I lied. He started to say something, when I cut him off with a detracting, “What’s that?”, questioning the contents of a pouch he now held in his hand.

  “The answer to your dilemma,” he replied soulfully.

  I stared at the intriguing silk pouch, noting its size and how flat its mysterious contents must be. A smile more somber than sunny surfaced. Clearly he was wrong. His heart couldn’t possibly fit in there.

  “My dilemma,” I remarked, acknowledging our opposing views of what he’d deemed that to be exactly.

  Tanner trounced my skepticism with that all-knowing look he was quick to shoot. “Give me your hand,” he requested confidently. The conviction rooted in his plea took hold of my muscles and extended my arm practically on its own. I stood before him with a respectful inhale, now ready and waiting for destiny’s latest reveal. My anticipation swelled as he loosened the braided cords from their knot. A sudden tremble gripped my fingers, forcing me to stretch them into submission. My stomach was another story. It flipped like a lead pancake when he inverted the pouch and then landed with the weight of a boulder when the mysterious item slipped out and fell into my hand. A circular, silvery-blue sheened medallion now lay before my eyes, a little larger than my palm. The Guardian symbol that signified the air had been carved on its surface along with a series of proportionally-placed airy circles that flowed around its edge. The energy I sensed throbbing from the metal was unmistakable. It was crafted of platinum, the same as my hilt. However, its force seemed more intense, more unadulterated if that was possible. A steady stream of pulses beat like a thunderous drum from the medallion’s core. Its intent couldn’t have been clearer if it was speaking actual words. This thing wanted you to know just how formidable it was.

  My fingers eagerly flowed throughout the trinket for a complete inspection, pressing into its grooves like a supernatural Braille-reader desperate to decode the meaning and source behind its strength. It simply had to do more than lay here in my hands looking pretty and feeling powerful — at least that’s what my definition of “answer to my dilemma” meant.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  With a cock of his head, Tanner stepped closer. “Remind me to add ‘patience’ to your list of things to work on while you’re here.” The next thing I knew, he’d reached around my waist and was gently sliding the slender box containing the topazes out of my back pocket. My responding jolt was modest but still lively enough to brush my frame against his chest and part my lips with a breathless gasp. At least the momentary lapse of airflow provided me with one benefit: no blushing. Of course his face didn’t show any traces of an apology, only a subtle amused grin when he waved the box in front of me. I feared it was these types of rascally instances that would ultimately be my undoing — no creature claws or fangs required.

  He popped open the box and presented the air gemstones for my inspection. There they were, all arranged in a neat row like when Beatrix had shown them to me for the first time. I stared at the line’s newest addition. She had said that when all nine topazes were collected, they would do something special. Knowing the lengths she’d gone to acquire the white one from the horrid clutches of her sister, I had a dead-on-the-money hunch I was about to find out exactly what it was.

  “Take each one out and place them in the rings around its edge,” Tanner instructed. “But save the white one for last.”

  I removed the topazes and dropped them one by one into the eight tiny circles outlining the medallion. Each time one landed in its respective slot, the placed stone ignited with a glow that churned brighter with every new addition. Once the remaining hole had been filled with its topaz, I cupped the jeweled medallion in my hands for a moment to absorb the object’s mounting fervor.

  Tanner flipped over the metal disc and laid it back in my hands. An impression of a circle magically appeared in the center of its formerly flat surface. He handed me the last stone. I scrutinized the white topaz curiously and then with a desirous breath, dropped it into the hollow. All of a sudden, the metal surface cracked apart and shot open like the blooms of a lily. A light streaked out of its center that was so powerfully blinding, it forced my frame into a flinch. My eyes unlocked from their ironclad squint once the light had faded into a muted beam that was flickering with glittery sparks. Cautiously, I peered into the center of the medallion. What I found staring back at me was startling. It was simply my reflection. That was it. Nothing else mystical lay hidden behind the impressive light show but the makings of muddled blue eyes.

  My shoulders shrugged with confusion. “It’s a mirror.”

  “It’s more than that,” Tanner countered. “It’s an oculus . . . conceived and created by Erion himself.” His fingers stroked its reflective surface. “This is the first time it’s ever been opened — by anyone.”

  “What does it do?” I muttered. First time or not, surely this thing came with an instruction manual.

  “It was made to act as a portal . . . a doorway that pulls a creature directly back to The Darklands without having to open a passage through The Veil. A back door that won’t weaken its borders in any way.”

  “Really?” From what I’d just heard, this truly was the answer to my banishing dilemma — a magical one-way ticket via a foolproof bedazzled compact, easy peasy. Now this was something a gal could throw in her purse. “So all I have to do is just open it up, and it will send them on their way,” I commented aloud, mainly because it sounded even better the second time around. Tanner didn’t respond, which only meant one thing: SOMEBODY was about two seconds away from pulling the rug right out from under me, and my mental happy-dance.

  “It’s not as simple as that,” he warned.

  I knew it. My grip tightened on the oculus like I was clinging to a life preserver. I lifted my gaze to spy his eyes flashing with as much hesitation as a daggone yellow caution signal. I should have known not to jump the gun — AGAIN. The devil’s always in the details, I feared silently and then as always, extended my round of thank yous to good ole destiny.

  Tanner pointed to the mystical mirror. “Yes, the oculus calls to these creatures, luring them back to The Darklands where they belong. But don’t think for one second that any of them will surrender so easily to its pull. They can sense its Veil magic, and the thought of going back to their prison makes them even more hell-bent on staying. Killing you quickly is their only desire.”

  “So it’s not a magic mirror — it’s a bull’s-eye,” I remarked. I figured any encounter with a creature would be painfully unpleasant, but even I knew the difference between a heated-bout and savage beat-down.

  “Call it what you will, but for now, it’s your only way,” he assured, brushing off my pessimism. “This was created for the hands of the one who wields the diamond, for you and you alone to command. A way to rid the world of these vile creatures if there ever came a time when no other safe route exists, so if anything, I would consider it your saving grace.”

  His chilly splash of reality washed away my snark like a quick drop in a dunking booth. “How does it work, exactly?” I asked while pleading one simple prayer to the cosmos. Please say like a freaking Star Trek transporter.

  “The creatures have to look into it,” he explained. “The portal must capture their souls, so their eyes have to connect with it — even if it’s just a glance. One split, soul-catching look is all that’s needed to snare them, and there is no escaping the oculus’ grasp once that happens.”

  With a beaten-down gaze, the phrase “window to your soul” sank in the center of my chest like an iron anchor plunging to unfathomable depths. I could already feel their ravenous claws slicing me to shreds while I stood there holding a magical camera and trying to get them to say, “cheese”. I hadn’t felt this many misgivings since finding out my pretty glowing stick was actually a daggone sword.

  “
You’re not serious?” I posed. It wasn’t the Veil-blessed device’s power I questioned, strictly its scale with respect to these creatures. I mean, REALLY… It was hardly the diameter of a Hula Hoop. That size would be somewhat burdensome but at least workable. Even here with it aimed at my own face I had to position the damn thing perfectly to catch a glimpse of my own baby blues. The rearview mirror of my Charger had more spread than this gadget. Adversely, up close & personal was the only way to capture these creature’s soul-stemming gazes. My fingers swept its reflective surface, tracing the worrisome lines trudging across my brow. Now I realized why there were so many weapons stockpiled in this chamber. One would need a Veil-laden arsenal just to get a crack at their peepers. Immortal peepers, I reminded myself. My stare fell to the floor, despite the promise of my surroundings. It still sounded pretty im-freaking-possible to me.

  Tanner lifted my chin. “Shiloh, nothing worth its weight is ever easy,” he vowed. “You may be the only one who can wield the oculus and send these creatures back, but you’re far from alone.”

  I acknowledged his words with a confident stream of nods to throw him off track, but I hardly felt like I was holding a winning hand. Every time I would encounter a creature and opened it up, there was only one of two cards fate would ultimately show: the grace of a victorious ace or a joker’s punishing blow. And that was me, generously banking on a percentage of 50/50 odds. Any more ass-handing rounds like last night and you could stretch those frightening figures to about a billion to one. Suddenly winning the Powerball lottery didn’t seem like such a pipe dream after all.

  Tanner placed his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll get plenty of practice using it. I swear.”

  Yeah… That’s why I’m here. It was easy to remind myself of that fact, what with his serious “mentory” tone stinging my ears. Though I doubted I would forget it again, now or forever, not with a magic mnemonic mirror literally staring back at me with a hefty reminder of undeniable truth.

  I breathed out as much anxiety as I could. “How many creatures?” I figured it was time to rip off the bandage and just get it over with.

  “Five,” Tanner answered. “Four of them are immortal.”

  The muscles circling my sockets tightened into a wince. “Just four,” I remarked. I went ahead and said it, seeing how there was no masking the bug-eyed look I’d let escape. Well, it could have been worse… Double-digit worse.

  In a merciful fashion, Tanner gently removed the oculus from my hands. I watched as its metal points all fell to a synchronized close, each of them now completely covering the mirrored portal just as soon as it had lost contact with my touch. Then to further his “out of sight, out of mind” tactic, he slipped it back in its pouch and placed it out of my view. It seemed even Mr. Gung-Ho knew the limits of “too much, too soon”.

  “Yes,” he confirmed, his voice more soft-spoken. “You’ll spar with all of them. One you will kill and the rest you’ll send back beyond the Veil.”

  I wished my confidence breathed as easy as his words. I’d already been introduced to a couple of the beasts I would be facing and was miserably aware of my score. That just left three unknowns hanging over my head like a murky haze of doubt. As much as I’d looked forward to having all of my questions answered, I was really starting to resent Secrets Day.

  “The mortal creature I have to kill,” I began, “the oculus won’t work on it?”

  “I never said that it wouldn’t,” he clarified. “I just assumed you would want to take a deathly route over a target match if given the option. Anyone would.”

  Now knowing the oculus was indifferent to mortal/immortal status, a light bulb sparked in my head. “Can I use it on the Onyx?”

  “I’m honestly not sure,” Tanner replied, his eyes as sketchy as his admission. “Dunamis discarded his human vessel long ago. His soul can roam free, not bound to a body claiming physical eyes of his own as far as we know. I highly doubt the eyes of his possessed victims would suffice.” A thwarted sigh boomed from his lungs. “And then there’s the issue of his phantom crystal. The oculus only absorbs complete souls. We still don’t know if he’s ever used his. If a phantom crystal can bring a Talisman back from the brink of death with it only harnessing a sliver of one’s soul, then surely it could anchor him here in some way . . . offer him some protection against its pull.”

  Ties to earth magic or not, The Onyx was one tough bugger to kill. From my perspective, he may as well be immortal. “But it could be used on Lorelei?” Despite the sea-bitch’s various scaly and grotesque forms, she still had an earthly body she was clinging to.

  Tanner grinned. “Absolutely . . . and you’re in luck. She was never granted a phantom crystal, so her soul’s ripe for the picking.”

  “Good,” I sighed.

  “But I’m afraid she’s well aware of the oculus’ existence. Just one more reason she’ll be gunning even harder for you.”

  I shook my head, feeling the gnawing scratch of the professor’s deduction. Like she needs any more. “Do you really think she knows I’m here?”

  Tanner honed his slyest of grins. “Let’s go and see.” We headed out of the chamber straightaway, but instead of winding up the stairs, our course descended further into the depths of the cave — specifically to the floor that held all the creatures. Rather than taking a fateful turn down the dungeon hall, my mentor steered me in the opposite direction and over to a back wall lining a rocky alcove. With a wave of his hand, a section of its craggy surface yielded a pale shimmer. The rocks began to shake and then slowly peeled away from their locked formation. A stunning circular mass of clear crystal emerged as the stones disappeared. Mid-morning light streamed into the dreary niche, filling it with glistening rays and reflecting a myriad of primary colors off its facets. The dancing visual display was absolutely magnificent, like standing in front of an enormous sun-catcher that sought to both dazzle and blind your eyes. I stepped closer with a squint, drawn by the sleek line of blue flooding the horizon. Now this was an oceanfront view.

  Tanner stepped beside me and directed my gaze down towards the shore. Sure enough, there was the Red Coral Talisman patiently sitting on a cluster of rocks, pretending to sunbathe. “Does that shed any light on your question?”

  All I could do was sneer as I watched the recently paroled land-walker wiggle her damn feet. Lorelei must have sensed her audience because that red head of hers whirled towards the side of the cliff like a magnet not two seconds later. Even at this distance, the hatred from her stare was hair-raising — the bitch. Without a care in the world, the moonstone-hungry Red Coral Talisman raised her hands towards the ocean. We followed her guided movements to a violent wave that was racing for the shore. But instead of breaking against the rocks, the fury-fueled gush transformed into a building tentacle-like stream that began spiraling up the cliff, headed towards us. Once the watery appendage had reached the crystal window, it reorganized into a liquid-like translucent image of its caster. If there wasn’t so much hostility powering its path, I would have been more impressed with the show.

  The watery version of my enemy looked dead at me while she made a sweeping gesture with her hand, sliding her finger across the center of her neck like a knife. Hardly what I would call a friendly “howdy”, but her cutesy little finger curls motioning for me to “step outside” showed a heck of a lot more promise.

  Having had enough for the both of us, Tanner tapped his knuckles twice on a section of the crystal. All of a sudden, a building wave rushed towards the shore and smacked Lorelei, saturating her from head to freshly-formed toe. You could see her wildly kicking legs locking together helplessly while the now-webbed appendage started sprouting thick scales the color of a lily pad and then one solitary fin emerged. That was a surprise. I’d never seen her one-piece suit before. Though the receding water was tugging her feisty fishy-frame back into the sea desperately, I had to give her determined flipper its due credit. She was puttin’ up a good fuss, clinging to the rocks and fl
ailing about until the last bitter and slippery second when the wave Tanner had commanded broke her hold. She’d lost this round, but I knew the relentless sea-bitch would be back, hungry for another crack.

  “That’s all I need,” I sighed, my lids heavy, “to piss her off some more.”

  With another wave of his hand, the rocks tumbled back together and concealed the crystal completely, closing me off from the world once again — and well away from Lorelei’s vengeful view. A feeling of sadness poured over me like the drench of a waterfall. Tanner sensed it too.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I remained silent for a few more seconds, which only heightened my mentor’s intrigue. “Don’t tell me you’re bothered by that hag?”

  “It’s not the hag,” I grumbled. “As silly as it sounds, I’m kind of sad that I can never enjoy another full moon. Whenever one is out . . . she’s what I think about.” I was never a big stargazer growing up, but who didn’t like to marvel at the moon now and then? Especially when it was nice and full? The feeling reminded me of when the water pipes at my house would freeze in the wintertime. Catching the sight of a big glowing ball in the sky equated to not being able to flush the toilet, get a drink, or take a daggone bath — needed or not.

  Tanner lifted my chin. “Until she’s dead and gone.”

  Now there was a pleasant thought. “Ms. Lá Léo said she was ‘born that way’,” I remarked, quoting her phrase precisely.

  “She was,” he acknowledged. “But her darker side didn’t reveal itself until she was much older, when her heart turned black. It was just the push it needed to break through.”

  “Are you implying that she was actually good once?” I asked, struggling with the notion.

  “A very, very long time ago,” Tanner confirmed. “Believe it or not, she’s only let a portion of what she is surface. I think she’s scared to fully surrender to its will, possibly out of fear that she would never be fully human again.”