Oracle--Sunken Earth

by C. W. Trisef

  The citizens of Sunken Earth enjoyed light through interesting means. As with most everything else, the dirt was the key to supplying their light. The energy surging through the soil not only brilliantly reflected the sunshine of the day but also gave off a soft glow in the night. The short shelf life of the energy, however, meant it had to be replaced often, so the fact that the soil in and around the slums had long ago been stripped of its energy—and never replenished—had hitherto been viewed by the lower level as a form of punishment. But on this night it, for once, seemed a great advantage, allowing them to sneak unnoticed through the shadows as they finalized their preparations for war.

  And so, while the well-lit middle and upper levels glowed with power, the slums and shanties wallowed in dimness. After usurping the government, Lye had turned the lower level into his personal landfill, making it the dump site of all the overspent earth that was collected and then discarded in the civilization. Like truckloads of dead batteries or burnt-out light bulbs, the waste was carelessly shipped out of Lye’s sight, where the peasantry managed to use what little life remained in it to grow and harvest a stunted subsistence. Occasionally, the government was known to spread near-dead dirt throughout the streets of the slums, but only to supply power to their own vehicles when conducting raids and arrests.

  “This is where we leave you, Ret,” Pauline said. “Do what you need to get the element, and then meet us back where we came in, on the west side.” She paused to smile. “And good luck. We love you.”

  “There you are!” Lionel yelled, rushing up to the group. “I’ve been looking all over for you. We must hurry; our frontal attack is about to begin!” He turned to hasten away, assuming they would follow him, but when no one moved, he returned to the group.

  “We won’t be coming,” Pauline explained, “only Ret.” Ret looked at Lionel in disappointment, slightly embarrassed by the choice of his comrades.

  Lionel thought for a moment, processing the information, before saying to the group that was fleeing, “Well, you should be ashamed of yourselves, especially you two.” He pointed at the only men in the party: Mr. Coy and Ivan. They looked down in acknowledged humiliation. “Come on, Ret,” Lionel said, putting his arm around him. They turned their backs and walked away.

  Grabbing Ana and Paige each by the hand, Pauline turned and started the westward trek out of the slums. Mr. Coy and Ivan stood motionless for several moments, looking both ways, unsure of what to do. In the end, they followed after their female counterparts, heads hanging low.

  Ret followed Lionel to the inner fringe of the slums, which sat along the wide bank of the first great river, separating the lower level from the middle level. Upon entering the wobbly structures, Ret was stunned to find that they had been completely hollowed out, leaving only a long, high-rising outer shell. The empty shacks had since been filled with all manner of weaponry and ammunition, safely concealed behind the false façade of the slums.

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Lionel remarked, noticing Ret’s amazement at the rows and rows of ranks assembled in the carved-out slums, which extended many layers deep. “Now, wait for me by the bridge. I’ll come and find you soon after the battle begins.”

  With each passing minute, additional stealth was needed to remain unnoticed as dawn was now upon them. Ret watched in wonder as the star-like speckles of energy in the earthen, domed ceiling gradually gave way to a general sort of opaqueness as the limited sunlight that filtered through the ocean shone through. Ret wondered if the average inhabitant of Sunken Earth even knew there was an entire ocean—indeed, another world—above them. He marveled at how insignificant this small battle seemed in the grand scheme of things. But, just when he feared he had made a rash decision in not following Pauline and the others, he was reminded how important any struggle is when life and liberty are at stake.

  Continuing to gaze at the wondrous ceiling of Sunken Earth, Ret noticed that, despite the fixed amount of natural light, it was that light’s reflection in the sparkling soils and shimmering waters that caused the land to appear as illuminated as if it were above ground.

  “Psst!” Ret looked around to see who was trying to get his attention. “Ret! Over here!” Princess Alana waved to him from behind a blockade. When Ret had hurried over to her, she pulled him in close so as not to give away their position.

  “You look very strong in your armor,” she whispered, touching his chest.

  “But I’m not wearing any—”

  “I know.” She leaned in to kiss him.

  And she would have if the large swath of slums immediately next to them hadn’t exploded.

  “We’re under attack!” Lionel shouted in surprise. “They were ready for us!” Indeed, they were: from atop the monstrous wall on the other side of the river, a squadron of Lye’s soldiers fired a high-powered energy blast directly into the slums.

  In one moment, Sunken Earth had gone from calm to chaos. Like a sea of shooting stars, wave after wave of crackling energy bolts soared from the middle level, raining down on the ambushed lower level. The corrugated shanty walls fell and burned like feathers, exposing their beleaguered contents. Lionel and his ranks scurried frantically to regroup as men fell left and right to the fatal electrocutions from enemy fire. Like birds of prey, Lye’s servants mercilessly attacked from their posts, on higher ground and behind their impenetrable force field.

  Ret knew he had to do something to rescue his associates’ ailing attack, but he wasn’t entirely sure what he ought to do. He had been outfitted with neither sword nor shield, and even if he was some kind of sharp shooter, the lower level would be completely leveled before he could take out a substantial number of enemies. For some reason, his unique gift—his power over certain elements—never forced itself upon his mind but instead waited patiently until Ret remembered that it was there.

  And remember he did.

  Without needing to glance at his scar, Ret shut his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind amid so much turmoil. When he opened them, his vision was directed to the countless mounds of salt scattered throughout the leveled slums. He suddenly knew what to do.

  With fists clenched, Ret picked up a faraway pile of salt with each hand. He extended his fingers, causing each mound to change form into a sort of sheet. Then, with a quick swish of his hands, the large walls of salt flew into the fray, where Ret held them above the great river.

  With the salt absorbing the enemy fire, Lionel and his men enjoyed their first break from the assault. With great haste, they reformed their lines and prepared for an attack of their own. Their hearts took courage while Lye’s guards were filled with consternation as they continued to pummel the shields of salt hovering in front of them.

  In time, however, the constant stream of energy being funneled into the sheets of salt caused the granules to melt with fervent heat. Now molten, the salt began to dissolve, dropping solid sodium particles into the river below and releasing gaseous chlorine into the air above. Having disbanded the protective barrier, Lye’s soldiers celebrated, though their cheers quickly turned to coughs as they inhaled the toxic fumes of chlorine. Meanwhile, the river danced with sparks and explosions as the metal sodium continued to react with the water, the rising smoke of such reactions only adding to the enemy’s bamboozlement.

  Now Lionel and his men assumed the role of cheering, applauding Ret as they loaded up with ammo.

  “Genius, Ret!” Lionel saluted. “Keep it up!”

  Like sheets of paper coming hot off the press, Ret raised and leveled mound after mound of salt, shielding his friends from their antagonists. Though most of his concentration was focused on the task at hand, Ret could see Lionel and his men loading their surviving catapults with massive spheres of sodium metal. With dozens poised and ready, Lionel issued the command to commence fire.

  Nearly the size of elephants, dozens of colossal balls of sodium hurled through the smoky air, landing just inside the other bank of the river directly at the foot of the bridge’s
main pylon, which stood underneath and supported the front gate that led into the middle level. Time seemed to stand still as the river’s water made contact with the sodium bombs until, all of a sudden, the scene erupted violently like a hidden, exploding geyser. Chunks of stone, large and small, shot like missiles in all directions. Water seemed to spray for miles. The front half of the bridge collapsed in ruin. The entrance to the middle level had been blown to bits, a gaping hole now in its place. The force field blew a fuse, disappearing like dominoes in both directions, and those of Lye’s men who had been stationed near the entrance were suddenly launched into orbit.

  Far from the battlefield, having reached the vegetated outer edge of Sunken Earth, a party of fleeing visitors spun around in alarm, the explosion of the sodium nuggets reverberating multiple times against the walls of the enclosed land. Pauline and the girls gasped as Mr. Coy worriedly strained to see what had happened.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Pauline reassured everyone, though silently panicking herself. She and the girls turned back around and resumed their journey. Paige looked horrified.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Coy turned to speak with Ivan. “We’ve got to go back and help,” he whispered passionately, “I feel like a sissy!”

  “Yeth,” Ivan replied, “I, too, fveel like a—” He then made several painful attempts at saying the word sissy.

  “Alright, alright,” Mr. Coy finally intervened. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  With Pauline and the girls purposely not looking behind them in an effort to keep themselves from imagining what kind of awful danger Ret might be in, Mr. Coy and Ivan slipped away with no difficulty and headed back to the slums.

  Back at the front lines, those who had breached the middle level prepared to advance to the next stage of their coup. As if by a rush of mighty wind, many more of the slums collapsed, uncovering masses of people, ready to storm the middle level. Like a colony of enraged termites, thousands of individuals marched forward and, with the force field down, scrambled into the middle level. Some swam; others laid down boards to span the broken bridge or ladders to climb the wrecked walls; but all were eager to rise to the next level and fight. Hordes of destitute yet determined derelicts flooded the gates, using their sheer numbers to push their way onward.

  The blitzing crowds were met head-on by Lye’s ground troops. Those at the front of the stampede, who—alive—served as human shields and then—dead—as human barricades, piled up lifelessly as they fell to the barrage of enemy fire. But the troops were wildly outnumbered and eventually overpowered. With weapons as primitive as a good arm and a springy sling, the masses threw and slung their homemade ammunition wherever they could. Small pebbles of sodium rolled their way into front yard fountains and neighborhood streams of the quaint towns of the middle level. Wooden containers of chlorine gas exploded in the streets and boulevards, sending people convulsing and vomiting. Pandemonium swept the suburbs as unprepared residents of the middle level fled for safety within the upper level, mourning shattered stained glass and trampled flower beds along the way.

  “Ret!” Lionel called out, running towards him. “Now’s our chance to summit the mountain.”

  “But shouldn’t we help them first?” Ret wondered, still standing on the river bank, watching the awful struggle play out before his very eyes.

  “They’re doing their part,” Lionel explained. “Now it is time for us to do ours.” Lionel waited for Ret to swallow his words before saying, “Follow me.”

  Lionel led Ret up and down and all around another winding network of passageways and tunnels. He was moving quickly and without much concern for being discovered, though there wasn’t much cause to be concerned since all of Lye’s security forces were presently very preoccupied. As such, they encountered little resistance. Ret wondered how Lionel knew so much about the secrets of the middle level. Lionel had to repeatedly wait for Ret to catch up, as Ret was more interested in the progress of the insurrection, frequently looking back.

  “Stay focused,” Lionel instructed. “The whole purpose of this war is to gain control of the mountain and whatever it might contain. Everyone is counting on you!”

  Another series of underground paths and hidden trails landed Lionel and Ret in the upper level, where Ret was surprised to find the state of things in nearly as great an uproar as in the middle level. Fleeing the approaching mobs, citizens of the middle level inundated the streets in and around the industrial and government districts, demanding protection and explanation. Though he could not understand what anyone was shouting in their protests and exclamations, Ret could decipher an air of panic and distress.

  “What are they saying?” Ret asked Lionel.

  Lionel paused for a moment to listen to the tumult.

  “They’re demanding to see Lye,” he translated, “but he’s missing!”

  “Missing?” Ret asked. “So does that mean—”

  “It means you need to be extremely careful,” Lionel warned. “If I know Lye, he is not one to give up—ever.”

  Soon, with the terrain changing from pavement to dirt, they arrived at the end of the upper level. Straining his neck and arching his back, Ret’s gaze scaled the massive mountainside.

  Suddenly, a pair of patrolling guards spotted Ret and Lionel.

  “Go on without me,” Lionel petitioned as the guards began rushing towards them.

  “Let me help you,” Ret begged, the guards getting closer.

  “No,” Lionel insisted. “I can handle them,” though Ret wasn’t sure, as Lionel looked a bit winded and much wearied from their trek, which had been a nearly constant incline.

  “Go!” Lionel urged. “This is your task, not mine. Get to the summit!”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be here waiting for you,” Lionel promised. “Now go—go!”

  With great hesitancy, Ret turned and dashed up the mountainside, taking care not to be followed by the advancing guards. Not only was he nervous without Lionel as his guide but he also was worried that he might possibly lose Lionel, his friend and confidant, to Lye’s murderous regime. Still, Ret knew he could trust Lionel, and if he said to go on without him, then Ret was certain Lionel knew what he was doing.

  The great mountain was certainly not meant to be climbed. Obviously void of any well-beaten trails, the dirt was extremely refined, almost like sand. With no rocks to rest on or foliage to lean on, Ret struggled to maintain his balance and footing. The mountain seemed to be a living, breathing organism, for quite frequently Ret had to dodge miniature avalanches of earth as the mountain pushed out new soil from within. He soon discovered, however, that it was much easier to use his powers to manipulate the cascading dirt to instead dodge him. The trek upwards would have proved impossible had it not been for Ret’s powers.

  In fact, the earth seemed to obey his command with far greater readiness than any other dirt he had previously experienced. Everything seemed purer—more pulsating—likely because it was so fresh from its source. Ret felt alive like never before, almost giddy—like a toddler in a sandbox. For the first time, Ret was grateful to be alone on the mountain, for no other human could have followed his trail.

  As Ret approached the perpetual layer of clouds encircling the midriff of the mountain, he paused from his climb to enjoy the view before it would be enveloped in fog. Immediately upon glancing downward, however, he learned there was nothing to enjoy. War had engulfed the entire nation, with carnage as its only victor. Princess Alana and her band accounted for a tiny fraction of those contending for their rights. While most of the middle level’s entrances had been breached, some had not, the cost of which was now lying lifelessly on the ground. The sound of conflict shared the air with the billowing smoke of raging fires. Ret cringed to see the upper level’s all-out attack on the middle level, now filled with the fearless fighters of the lower level. Lionel’s words rang true in Ret’s ears: they were all counting on him now.

  Ret pressed forward. With limited visibility, he passed through
the cloud coverage, dodging thunderous lightning at times. The mist, which had left him drenched, felt welcomed against the warmth of the energized earth of the mountain. Now above the haze, Ret was afforded a clear view of the remainder of his hike.

  Tremendous torrents of ocean water poured through the hole in the ceiling, sending treacherous waterfalls cascading down the mountainside in many directions. The downpours carved deep gorges in the ground before flowing downward to ultimately feed the countless rivers that sprawled throughout Sunken Earth. Wondering how he might get on the other side of these tumultuous waterfalls, Ret was struck with the idea to use the soil to push him through. By simply imagining it, Ret caused a stream of dirt from behind to propel him forward. Bracing himself, the earth struck his back as if from a fire hose and provided enough force to lunge him through the downpour. He collapsed on the inside of the curtains of water, landing in soil that resembled powdered sugar, just as Lionel had described. Being wet, the fine soil stuck to his body, but instead of turning to mud, the dirt particles, which were warm from their electrical charge, turned the water on Ret’s body into steam before falling back to the ground, gently as tiny hailstones.

  Now that he was standing on the peak of the great mountain, Ret felt a tangible energy in the air like never before. A palpable power surged through every atom of every molecule, giving incredible vibrancy to all things, including Ret. The power was so strong, in fact, that Ret felt a tinge of fear—could he control what he felt? In full view, Ret stared into the heart of the vortex, swirling just a few hundred feet above his head. With awesome majesty, the raw power emanating from the mountain held the mighty ocean in perfect subjection.

  Remembering his mission, Ret altered his upward course and decided to trek around the peak. It was on the east side where he discovered a curious-looking building. Though small, it was very attractive and ornate, built of fine materials and crafted with great care. It looked like some sort of house of worship, as if constructed in honor of deity. Much of it had been built into the mountain, and it was clear that the bulk of the brilliantly-white building sat inside the peak.