by Marc Mulero
Ilfrid sighed. “They can read my intentions and understandings which can be translated through Reach.”
“Never mind that! Seren Night showed up. He ambushed us, nearly killed me,” he unfastened his Glite to show the wounds on his chest, “and he highjacked the esper.”
The hlopes spun off of Ilfrid’s shoulders and circled his head. They were disturbed from whatever terrible emotions were floating through him.
“Tell me you’re lying.”
“Not a chance.”
Ilfrid sighed deeply before looking away, then back again at Eres. He thought maybe the Dawn was playing some sort of sick prank. Finally, after a few more huffs, he proclaimed, “It’s time then. We have to heed Masarian Bo’s judgement. I have to take you to the Verglas Sphere to begin your trials. The Skrols need a leader to get them through this, one that can balance these reclusive one-man armies. Who better than the blood of the one who started this? Who better than the son of Agden Way?”
Eres thought back to his time in his esper, to how masterfully his father masked his feelings. There was so much fear within him, so much angst, but his exterior was mostly cool, collected. It must have taken Agden a lifetime to develop such skills… perhaps his trials honed all of this, perhaps it was natural, like his affinity for Reach. Either way, Eres realized something – in all of Agden’s doubts, worries, fears, he always trusted his gut. Every conversation he’d heard was guided to expressing his point, his view, how he saw the world. Every action was toward the same goal.
Now Eres knew it was his turn to trust his gut. “I’m not going to begin my trials… not yet.”
“Did you not hear a word of what I just said?” Ilfrid asked contemptuously.
“Yes, actually. The Skrols need help… and I disagree that sending me away for Mustae knows how long is the solution to rebuilding some sort of confidence.”
Ilfrid tried to speak up but Eres pushed him lightly.
“No, listen! Five years ago, Wukaldred surrendered himself to Kovella’s Quittance to prevent any more deaths in Kor Vinsánce. If there’s a way to get him back, to break him free, that would turn the tide. It would give us momentum, Ilfrid. So instead of flying me a world away, instead of removing me from the fight so that I might return stronger, use what I am here and now. Tell me how I can get him back and make that our priority. That’s what my fata would’ve wanted.”
Ilfrid blinked hard, removed his sweaty hat and played with its feathers.
“It seems everywhere we turn, we’re losing this Silent War. How about this time, you point me in the right direction, and we show the other side that we aren’t a bunch of dormant hermits waiting to be found.”
Ilfrid was still frozen, likely thinking of all the adventures preceding this young man, and then turned to look him in the eye. “This isn’t the way of the Skrols,” he finally spoke… almost like he wanted those words to be challenged. And Eres obliged.
“Exactly. Seren was once a Skrol. He would expect us to act as he once did. That’s how he gains ground on us. That’s why we lose espers. He has no rules and we have too many.”
Ilfrid flinched, whether due to withholding information or worry. Eres mistook the cue entirely. He thought he was swaying the pilot. Well, maybe he was.
“Help me, Ilfrid. You have a long history of aiding the cause, the Skrol secret. Help me honor my fata by not slowly succumbing to defeat. Where can I go to make a difference?”
A long silence stretched between them. Windel and Ohndee were giggling in the background, which was cause for a different type of concern, but Eres let that go for the time being.
“My trials can wai-”
“The Colliding Spheres,” Ilfrid blurted.
“I’m sorry?” Eres was stunned.
“Esil Octanious will be defending his title against some hyped new challenger, a Seedar Trainer that managed to tame a dulwar.”
A Seeder Trainer. That has to be the guy in the octor feed that Proctor Ren showed us years ago. It must be. Wait... Octanious? A descendent of the great Ovar Octanious?
“You can bet your ass Kovella’s Quittance will be there.” He slapped his hat across his knee and put it back over his head. “There’s no Faction interference there. No judgement on previous crimes. They have their own security, mercenaries, the Blood Assassins. No one would dare cause trouble. You can walk free amongst the most dangerous vigilantes and murderers in Ingora, and they can do the same. It’s a central hub for all walks of life, dangerous and terrible, peaceful and worldly. They all go… and the Factions have turned a blind eye in regulating the area because of its booming commerce.”
Eres’ eyes lit with intrigue. A place where anyone can be free. I’m technically an outlaw too, or will be soon when the Ambassador of Elesion figures out that I’m gone. Maybe I belong in this haven? No, no.
“If you really want to find Wukaldred Donn… or Wudon, that’s where you start. Besides, wouldn’t mind checking in on my wagers.” He winked.
Eres chuckled, adrenaline flowing through him. Excitement. A new prospect instead of this long road of riddles. If he could bring the Dark esper back to the Alliance’s side, that would be a game changer. A world of knowledge, counsel, everything he could need once again brought into the right hands.
“Well, c’mon now. The big event is tomorrow. We have to get you and your, uhh, friends into more suitable attire. And we best cover up those marks.” He intrusively dragged a finger down Eres’ face.
Eres wiped the grime as soon as Ilfrid turned and followed the jangling pilot back to his shider. “No Glite?”
“Not unless you want every eye in the stadium on you, no. Everyone knows the rules: any hints of dispute – threats or otherwise – you’re out on your ass, wagers forfeited and all. I’ve seen it happen, you know… not pretty. I’ve even seen some nasty ploys back when the organization was less established. If a no-name schmuck was winning big and placed a high bet, the house had undercover hires that would push the gambler’s buttons, say comments to provoke them just to get them kicked out. Hah, good ol’ days.
“So, dress for the occasion and keep your emotions in check.” He eyed the young ladies as he passed them. “Especially that one,” he uttered some Swul slurs.
Eres offered somewhat of light laugh, more from nerves really. Seeing the two getting along was like having opposing Factions at war suddenly throw down their arms and hug one another. It was wonderful and terrifying all at once.
“I guess call those wenches too. Can’t have them looking like mud-soaked pirates if we’re to pass you off as a proper gentleman.”
“Oh god.” Eres scratched his head before eyeing Ohndee to get her attention. He then motioned with his head for them to follow along.
“It’s okay to greet you now?” Dee asked snidely before planting a kiss on his cheek. “Wasn’t worried about you or anything.”
Eres pulled back quickly, partly because Windel was there… well, really only because she was there. He could see her shifting uncomfortably from the corner of his eye while simultaneously noticing Dee’s expression quickly change from the offense.
Ugh, this is not going to be fun.
“Seren Night, huh?” Dee said, smoothly letting the rejection slide. “What was that like? Is he the horrible boogie man that you expected?”
“Worse.” Eres dropped a heavy arm around her shoulder to make up for his transgression. “Ask Windel.”
“Oh, I already have. Said you were brave, suffered wounds… reminds me of your courage back in the jungle.”
“Hm,” was all Eres offered.
“So, what now? Continue projecting all of your problems onto one man? Blindly follow the Skrols into whatever games they have laid out for you next?”
“No, actually. I think I’m going to make my own way… to the Colliding Spheres. I’m going to follow up on a lead instead of running away into solidarity.”
Dee pushed him off of her out of sheer surprise. “Get out!” She smiled so widely
it made her full lips look thin. “I’m proud of you.”
“Why, because you’re getting your way?”
Dee scoffed. “No, because you’re deliberating, finally. Not taking everyone else’s word as law – finding your own path, figuring stuff out for yourself.” She poked him in the chest after each word.
Eres grimaced from the painful wounds, the burning sensation reminding him of the Crule slashes he’d suffered.
Windel reached forward, but then quickly pulled back after realizing that it wasn’t her place to care for Eres. Not like that anyway.
Dee glanced at her, then at the exposed Glite under his fake Carrier uniform before ripping it open. “Mustae.”
The slashed Glite still pulsed orange like it had a heartbeat of its own, but Eres closed it back up quickly.
“I’m fine. Windel tended to the wounds. They’re just fresh, that’s all.”
“Sheesh, you still need an Artificer to fix that up. I can do it for you. I’m sure Ilfrid has some makeshift tools in there.”
Eres couldn’t tell if Dee was dangling her skills in Windel’s face since she was the one who had patched him up. Was this already turning into some sick rivalry? Jealousy even? Or was Eres flattering himself by even thinking so?
“C’mon guys,” Eres started toward the shider, “apparently the arena demands us to dress up.”
“The Colliding Spheres? Of course!”
Windel crept up, feeling left out. “Have you been?”
“Yes, in the audience chamber many times as a kid. I was Swul highborn before…”
Windel shifted her eyes back and forth between the two. And then it clicked. “Eres met you in Elesion, didn’t he? You’re both Dawns.”
“Don’t say it too loudly. The mountains might hear you,” Dee joked.
“That’s so romantic. I never would’ve guessed. Where’s your mark?” Windel asked boldly, innocently, but Dee’s face flushed bright red at the mention.
Eres snorted with laughter and pointed to his backside silently to give Windel the answer.
“Ohh!” Windel was now the one flushing a few shades pinker, the thought of Eres seeing another girl naked plaguing her mind. “Sorry… I didn’t mean t-”
Eres interjected before awkwardness could take hold. “Let’s go get dressed for the ball, shall we?”
Ilfrid swatted away a few low hanging cloths in the pit of Alga Menace Fie. Gravitas beads swirled around him so that he could remain upright, clutter making the others behind him trip and curse as they followed. But he just ignored the chatter, humming a tune to himself like he was all alone.
“I really am scared that you have wives locked up down there.” Ohndee laughed nervously.
“What?” Windel stiffened, surely preferring Dwellers over this sick, eccentric pilot.
“Oh shush,” Eres defended. “He’s doing us a favor, you know.”
Ilfrid just hummed a little louder to stop himself from shouting Swul slurs again.
“At the very least, you’re a terrible hoarder,” Dee proclaimed.
“Ah! Here we are.” Ilfrid dusted off a door in front of him and then punched in a code in an Eplon style security panel.
It slid open from bottom to top, sending with it a shower of dust and soot all over them. Ohndee shrieked, arms extended and frozen like she’d just been soaked with water.
“Something is crawling on me! Get it off… off!”
“It’s just grime. I swear, you’re a pretend Swul.” Eres wiped her head harshly and then turned to Windel. “Imagine Nuganzia and Teros acting like this?”
Windel snorted at the thought.
To everyone’s surprise, the inside of the room was immaculate, lined with airtight, preserved formal wear of all shapes and sizes.
Ohndee barreled in and started sifting through dresses. “Did you own a clothing store or something? Do you play house when no one’s looking? You’re so strange, I swear…”
Ilfrid took a step back with hands on his hips. “This brings me back. Believe it or not, I was invited to many events in my day, before this guy started to grow,” he slapped his slight pot-belly, “and I hosted even more here. They loved visiting Alga. My collections were once riveting… still are, really.”
“Uh huh, yeah, whatever,” Ohndee placated before yanking out an overly decorated suit with three beige sashes stitched into the jacket. “You would look debonair in this, Eres.”
His eyes grew wide with horror.
Windel grimaced and stepped in. “I think maybe that color would clash with his skin tone, let’s look over here.” She politely guided Ohndee toward another section.
“Women, huh?” Ilfrid nudged Eres with his elbow.
“I may not exactly be a guy but after seeing this… I really don’t think I’m a girl.”
Ilfrid’s trinkets jangled as he chuckled. “Your father decided that for you even before you were born.”
Eres made a face, thinking back to when his ooma scolded his father for that very reason. How he was so sure Eres was his son, the one to carry on his legacy, not some barren set to expire after one measly lifetime. “The end of the line…” He remembered Proctor Hundul and the Generations department speaking so definitively about Dawns, despising them in every sense of the word. Through all of the strife though, it was his ooma, Lorfa, the esper addict, that taught him how to exist… taught him how the spheres of Ingora were harsh to his kind, but that didn’t mean he had to roll over and die.
“After all of this, but before my trials, I must visit my ooma.”
Ilfrid denied him. “Out of the question. Your footprint is deepest in Ombes. One step there and the Factions will be alerted for sure. You’d have to create endless distractions – storms, vibrations, whatever, like Agden did, to even get a glimpse of her.”
Eres’ face crinkled with pain. He’d been worried to say the words out loud, fearful that Ilfrid would say exactly that. “Can’t you just fly her to me?”
“Eres, her old bones don’t ache terribly by the grace of the Dolseir forest. If I asked, she would come, of course. But would you really want to risk her suffering by plucking her from her home?”
Eres dipped his head, thinking back to when she’d hobbled all the way down the road to Kor Vinsánce in search of him… how terrible that sight was. All he could do was grunt back in agreement.
“I send her hlopes, though.” The pilot rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She knows you’re okay.”
That put him at ease a bit before their focus was pulled to Windel and Ohndee standing in front of them, each holding an outfit. Apparently, decisions had been made.
A jacket with a high collar… too high, overwhelmed his vision. It had a flashy trim outlining the whole thing, and beneath it, a silver vest with chains dangling from each button.
Windel leaned in and whispered, “I tried, Eres, but she is a Swul. Just wear the vest, please, for the love of Mustae.”
Ilfrid looked sideways at Eres. Even with his extravagant, zany style, Ohndee was going overboard with all of her choices. Picking a ruffled scarlet six-piece getup was a bit much. The three of them laughed at his reaction.
Later that night, as they were on a smooth course to the end of the Osa Sphere, Eres began to doze while the girls were wide awake, exchanging stories and discussing culture. There was an odd comfort in being there, especially after staying up for nearly a whole day. His plate beside him was empty but for a few crumbs. Ilfrid was a good cook… surprisingly good. The man exhibited unexpected charm, and not for the first time either. That day, courting the silent Dagos in Dundo-Ba, and back at Elesion, convincing that lifeless grump to fetch Ohndee for him. Then he went on to prepare a world-class meal from isles of the world Eres hadn’t even heard of. He was kind of like a father to them, in the weirdest way.
Sleep was coming back to claim him. Eyes droopy, vision wavering. Hearing the two girls speaking so pleasantly to one another made him think he was already dreaming. Voices going low once in a
while to exchange some words they didn’t want the others to hear, they shared their secrets. It was soothing to have company at night, like a toasty hearth he’d never known. This was the perfect time for him to retreat into his esper. It didn’t matter if his energy was drained because he’d just fall that much harder into a slumber afterward.
As he willed it, Eres’ esper flashed amber, and away he went.
Suctioned once again through the grottos of time and space, he was much more confident than the first flailing plunge into Gushda. But now he expected all of the vibrant colors, the ethereal floors, four-dimensional space and shadowy form he’d undertaken. This was his imprint through the Eternal, he knew, and he accepted it. Returning more worldly every time, more learned - it was like navigating a scavenger hunt, finding hidden secrets in an endless world with some invisible hand guiding him along the way.
What was his objective this time? Did he want to try and find more memories of Seren? To better understand how he operated? Or maybe he would keep chasing his father’s breadcrumbs… to see what other enlightened perspectives he would provide this time.
He looked up to the shifting colors, the reels of duels playing to his left, and the judicial chambers sentencing some unknown figure to his right. Seeing these before made for an easy decision. Peering down to the misty bridge he stood upon revealed many others far below him. So he jumped.
Why did he so often choose to descend? Why did he always chase the darkness?
The thought grew louder in his mind as he fell past other experiences plastered on either side of him.
Why do I choose the black depths?
His vision swung this way and that, to those vibrant memories within Gushda that he could enter just by willing it so. It was an enticing offer every time, to meld his mind with those residing inside the memories, to feel what they felt, to understand all of the glory and all of the pain of another. He could do anything he wanted.
That’s when it clicked.
Why had he never melded with Seren Night’s form? To learn what he was really thinking - that would be invaluable. He would then be able to understand his true motive, solve one of the grand mysteries plaguing his mind.