by Marc Mulero
He suddenly became somber at the reinvigorated thought that Alfonze Ren was sitting behind bars because of him. And to top it, he wouldn’t even be there to greet him when was freed.
Windel was aware of the shift and put a hand on his covered foot. “I’ll say hi to him for you.”
“Promise?”
“Mmhmm.”
He moved his foot away; the sensation even from a brief touch was terribly uncomfortable. He knew it would go nowhere, meant nothing, and so he excused himself from hardship.
She was keen. “It’s the Olaphant in the room, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“It’s an expression, I think? I know I heard it somewhere. It means that we have to address the obvious, don’t we?”
“I was hoping we wouldn’t have to, actually.”
“And what if this is the last time our roads cross? You would be okay with just fading away with unfinished business?”
How many times can I be struck without being hit? He wondered.
“Fine,” she continued, “I’ll start. It hurt to see you with Ohndee… it hurt a lot actually, because there was a time when I thought that it could be me and you against the world.”
Eres was boiling inside. There was a sick demon living within him that liked hearing these pointless words, but the fact that nothing ever materialized from it, and that he was hours away from being removed from the entire social world as he knew it, didn’t quite sit right.
The silence was getting to Windel. “Well, I guess it may have been one-sided.”
“One-sided?!” He burst out of bed as if awoken from a nightmare. “Is that why you think I was aiming for Crow’s neck out there? Is that why me and Ohndee broke up?”
Eres suddenly appeared much larger than he was while Windel seemed to be shrinking, regretting poking the dormant bull.
“Is that why I cannot wait to be rid of you all? Because it’s one-sided?” And just when it looked like he was going to slam a fist through a wall, he exhaled loudly.
“No, it’s because I lost. Not just the duel… I lost Ohndee, I lost you… well, never had you. Mustae, what a waste.”
Windel swallowed past a lump in her throat.
“I always thought Crow was some sick twisted stalker chasing you, bothering us. It wasn’t until I saw you two nooch that it all hit me at once. It was me who’d been the nuisance. There must’ve been some kind of chemistry between you before I showed up, wasn’t there? I got pummeled just for looking in your direction back on Meeting Day, didn’t I?”
Windel was silent, bashful even. She knew Eres had figured it out. “But when you came along… you were different. Brave, smart, a-and kind.”
“I was lacking is what you mean. Physically and otherwise. Being kind has gotten me struck down, fatherless both after he died and before. It got me nowhere. I’ve been alone but for brief instances in my life. Now that I understand my pitfalls, after I’ve been wrong a thousand times and know I will be a thousand more, now that I know all of this, I’m cast into some exile to be the last Skrol to defend this secret. Even Ohndee thinks I’m an idiot for doing so. I’m lost, Windel, lost!”
“I would come with you if I could,” she said flatly.
Eres just huffed and turned away, waving his hand in dismissal. “Just go back to the cockpit. I don’t need your pity.”
Her mouth remained agape for a moment, then she stood. “I would come with you, Eres. Doesn’t the fact that I dropped my career mean anything to you? Doesn’t it show that I care?”
“It was only because Crow abandoned you for Kor Blu.”
Now Eres was dishing out the blows and it was her turn to get fired up.
“And do you know why Crow abandoned me?”
Eres lowered his head, regretting his words as soon as spoke them. “He told me.”
“Oh, he did? He told you that he couldn’t handle that I was trying to save you?”
“As a friend.”
“Is that not enough to risk one’s life?!”
“Not when the other side is seeking love, no, I’ve realized… it’s not. I’d rather have suffered poetically than be rescued out of some platonic bond.”
“Ugh! I guess you’re not as kind as I thought. And guess what, Eres, being an asshole doesn’t fit you as nicely as it does Crow. It’s disgusting on you, actually.”
“Good! Maybe your sick mind will actually like me now. Look out, Crow, Eres Dawn is next in line for the sadist!”
Whack! A slap clapped hard across his face, stunning him stiff.
Her jaw was clenched in anger, nostrils flared like a steaming bull. She wanted her turn to duel the bastard standing in front of her. He could see it in her stance.
“Yes! Okay? I liked Crow before you came along. Yes, we had an eccentric chemistry that was alluring. Yes, I liked that he would kill for me… it felt good. And he seemed like the type that could never really be pinned down. It was cool. He was cool. But then you showed up,” she stomped her foot and waved her hands wildly, “and changed everything. You and I had something different, tangible. Companionship. Not like Mundella and I did, but something else, something more.
“And when you were taken, we were all spending a lot of time together, bonds grew closer.”
“At my expense,” he interrupted. “Great, I caused this.”
“Eres! Shut! Up! Yes, I said! He made his move, we got together, and then he decided to leave when I decided to go on a suicide mission for you!”
Hearing it come from her had a completely different tone than from his rival. Different emotion – frustration versus malice, love versus hate.
What we could have been together…
Eres approached her more delicately now, scanning her angered face, disarming her slowly. He grasped one of her hands and rubbed her palm. He didn’t say another word. Instead, his eyes did the talking, and when they closed and he moved in, she didn’t shy away. A nooch. Lips met for the first time, six years in the making. Anticipation, wondering, hoping, all exploding into one sensual moment.
Eres wasn’t nervous or mad. He wasn’t sad or jealous. He just was. And when her hand cupped the back of his head, he knew it was right. Two moments maybe three, until he finally pulled away.
Her lips were still parted, eyes shyly looking away then back toward him. Awe.
“I’ll hold onto that forever,” he said somewhat dashingly.
She just closed her mouth and nodded silently.
“If I’m meant to run for the rest of my life like my father then so be it. But I will remember you Windel. I’m going to learn to access my own memories in Gushda, in here,” he pointed to his esper, “and then I’ll take you with me wherever I go.
“I let a rivalry get the best of me, I know, but deep down, we both know that this thing between us, whatever it is, was never meant to be. So as fleeting as that nooch was, so we would be. But I do love you. Always have. And it will kill me to be rid of you for good this time, but until I do die from it, I will remember.”
“Eres, I…”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it, or not say it. That would damper what your destiny holds. Go, be with him, and be safe.”
She was still somewhat stunned as if hit with a spell.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “I’ll be up in the cockpit soon. I just needed to know… and now I do.”
“Know what, Eres?”
He smiled lightly. “What we could have been.”
Her lips parted again, and this time a tear fell fast down her cheek.
Part III
The Way of the Skrol
Chapter 28
The Verglas Sphere
Eres fidgeted in his bed until the seventeenth hour – tossing and turning with not a wink of sleep, replaying the conversations in his head, the kiss, the idea of being secluded in a place where no one would dare travel, let alone live. What a strange life to lead.
He sniffed heavily, grasping at hints of Ohndee’s scent, Windel’s,
his own oily sleep. Dwelling on the past even through his sense of smell. He felt pathetic… he was pathetic.
“That’s it,” he told himself, “no more of this. Exhausted or not, let’s go.”
With that, a groggy Dawn tossed the covers off and sprung to his feet. Rubbing blurriness from his eyes, scratching an itch beneath his smooth locks, he eventually slapped himself lightly to regain some sense. His bladder was full he realized… that was a good start. Clomp… clomp… steps were heavy, awkwardly spaced, until he reached a door that was hardly taller than he was, which led into an aircraft-sized bathroom.
“Ugh.” He jiggered the handle and let himself in, always feeling the slight tugs of being airborne when stuck in there. He sat, thinking.
Ramillion Kesh… could he be the intermediary that my fata used to meet with Seren? The cave they met in was icy. It makes sense that it could have been in Verglas. Seren, a former Skrol… they all must know each other well. Time will tell, I suppose.
He got up after relieving himself, sniffed his armpit and winced at the odor. “Ugh, I need a wash.” He glanced at the tight container that was a sorry excuse for a shower, considered it, then eventually shrugged and undressed. For all he knew, this might have been it, his last “proper” bathing. He had to take advantage, no matter how uncomfortable. He had to start this chapter of his journey right – cleanse himself of all the dirt he’d accumulated, figuratively and otherwise. It was psychological more than anything. And with that, he wondered: Why couldn’t someone just tell him what he was in for? Was Skrol training that terrible? Why did everything have to be so mysterious?
It’s crazy to think that Seren and my fata were friends once. Well… more like rivals I guess… like me and Crow? No, he laughed to himself, they seemed to respect each other a little more than we do. They probably weren’t stupid enough to fight over a girl. It must have been more… ideological. How to handle the way of the Skrols, whether to respect or defy the ancient traditions. That was their purpose, and will soon be mine once I step off this shider.
He turned the nozzle and flexed his muscles to brace for either freezing or boiling water. The shower head shook as the plumbing worked, water syphoning, then finally spat.
“Ahh,” he yelped. “Cold. Cold. Cold.”
His body tensed and shivered while fingers desperately rotated the nozzle to find a different setting. He let out a sigh when it warmed, and then plastered himself against the wall when lukewarm turned to steaming hot.
“Shit. Ilfrid, damn it.” He tried again to refine the setting.
He sighed once more, this time in a good way, letting his shoulders slump as the water cooled into a reasonable temperature.
So, in the memory of the great Agden Way, I’m to hide for the rest of my life? Sounds great. Just great. Maybe I’ll just live in my esper once I learn how to plant my own memories, leave a trail for whoever is destined to wear this next. Ugh, do you hear yourself? What am I saying… I’m still just in my novel years. I have to wrap my head around how long that could be. Years, decades, alone, buried somewhere in snow? Well, not if Seren has his way.
Shut up! Stop thinking like that! With a bit of luck, by the time he finds you, you’ll be strong enough to face him. Then maybe you can return to Ooma, to friends.
He shook his head and pounded the shower pane. His mind shifted back and forth.
Bah. Start obsessing that way now and you’re done for.
No, I have to hold onto something if I’m to get through this with any shred of my identity intact.
One thing’s for sure… I won’t be kept in the dark, not anymore. I won’t just be a sacrificial lamb for the greater good. If I’m going to abandon my dreams, I demand to know why. I’ll pry everything out of this Ramillion character. I’ll make a deal. Demand books that really, truly teach about espers, not Apa Kernikus’ riddles.
Mustae, I really should have listened to my ooma for all of those years when she was spouting what I thought to be gibberish, she was actually trying to tell me the truth, that Gushda is the way. I was too stupid to listen.
He grabbed some old looking soap, scraped off some film and started using it to lather himself.
I have the last esper. Out of all the Skrols and all of the Heralds, it’s me with one and him with the rest, besides ooma of course. What is his experience like in Gushda? Is his plane expanded? Can he see the Founder? Can he see most of the secret because he has more? Or is he as lost as I am in there?
It sucks that, in the best case, I’ll never find out. I have a feeling it’s going to be lonely down there…
He began to wash himself more slowly, now savoring the moment of being around people he knew, even if he was squished into a box, even if he was at odds with most of them, there was history there. He was at peace with that now, cherished it even.
A memory of his father came to mind. Glite trickling back, wind burnt face stuck with a smile, bag filled with gifts. Even though the times were so few and far between, they were perfect. His ooma would be behind him, he knew, shaking her head with a playful smirk. The memory was warm, something worth dwelling on.
“I miss you Fata, Ooma. I’ll do this for you, because it’s bigger than me. I understand that now.”
His palms were pressed flat against the door pane as if he were on the wrong side of prison glass.
“I’ll make you proud.”
He spent another ten minutes of relishing in precious memories, feeling them crumble before his mind’s eye, then wallowing in despair that they, his family, were so far away in body and spirit. The arrow of time would never allow them back in his life, either from death or danger, it didn’t even matter... it just hurt to recognize the facts.
Finally, he deemed it enough, snarling while slamming down the nozzle, tearing while exiting the cramped space and grabbing a towel too small for his body.
He stomped out of the tiny bathroom and around the oversized closet that’d been his room for the past day, drying his hair furiously, leaving his flat private area exposed. Wet footprints trailed in the shape of a sloppy figure-eight as he thought, constantly muttering to himself along the way. Maybe he was destined to be an old hermit stuck in Verglas. An old barren filled with regret. To break him out of it, his body jerked from a sudden shift in velocity.
“We must be almost there… that’s the shider reducing speed.”
Once dry, his hair instantly fell into a silky weave that hung to his shoulders. No brush or product necessary, no knots or split ends. Just glossy locks that the girls were secretly jealous of. Then he moseyed over to the endless lines of dresses, suits, and outerwear, and sifted thoughtfully.
“No, no, no, too formal. No. That one’s a dress. No thanks. Ilfrid, if you ever wore this one, you should be shot.” He chuckled to himself, holding up a cherry-colored suit with tail flaps flipped up and over the shoulders. It looked like an oversized lizard’s forked tongue.
Then, as he shuffled past a bunch of morbidly black outfits, his expression turned serious, smile falling into a frown. “This is kind of depressing. I feel like I’m picking out my death suit. Well, this is the last time you’re going to see them, if not forever… for a long, long time. Might as well pick something to remember you by, something that’s you,” he spoke to himself.
“I should be comfortable under my Glite.” He continued to move down a long rack. “Ah, yes! Forest green like my marks, amber like my eyes, tan like my skin.” He rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Satisfying. It was as soft as his hair. This will do, he thought, holding out the leggings of a sort, analyzing the swirling colors and then switching to the skin-tight olive-colored shirt. Perfect.
He wrestled the outfit on, which fit as though it were made for him, grabbed his belongings – bag, crimson sword and all, took a deep breath, and began toward the door.
“Time to face the music, Ooma would always say. I think she meant it for times like this.”
Out he went, past the corridor and up the ladder lead
ing to the body of the shider. He took in the full view, weird trinkets from Ilfrid’s travels, faded flags, the odd charm that he exuded through the decor, and then braced for the gravitas beads as they rushed to circle him. It was like second nature now – he knew that if he jumped toward the wall, the beads would alter his center of gravity and allow him to steady. So, he did. The wall was his new floor. His body jostled for a moment, but then stabilized.
He wondered if the others could hear his footsteps as he approached, if they cared, if they felt bad that they had to send him off. Doubtful. But in a hero’s moment of departure, wasn’t it normal to wonder these things? Isn’t that all a hero had?
Pfft. I’m no hero. Don’t kid yourself. You were picked because of your insignificance… because no one knows you, because you’ll be easy to hide.
Fingers grabbed hold of the valve leading to the cockpit and twisted. “Here we go,” he whispered to himself.
Sloop. He zoomed up while the gravitas beads fell back like dropped coconuts. Silence as all eyes peered unto him. It was only then, in that brief moment, that he thought maybe in a different time, a different dimension, this could have been a formidable crew to tackle enemies of the Factions with. Windel’s skill with flenos boots, her daggers, a Carrier’s spirit, Dee’s resourceful experience, Crow’s Reach, his aura of darkness that would somehow be needed at times, and Ilfrid… the fatherly leader who would’ve kept things light at heart. It was a motley crew, but it could’ve been his motley crew.
His first thought was warming, but then reality swooped in like a vulture on a carcass, as it always did. He was the enemy of the Factions. None of them got along, not really anyway. Or maybe it was just Eres who was the odd duck.
Either way, doesn’t matter, right? He thought. I do love you all. Except for you, Crow, you prick.
He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Not again. He had his time with everyone, said what he had to say, intimately, how it should be done. Now all he could hope was that his eyes conveyed his feelings, and that this mental snapshot would endure the test of time, end up in Gushda, become a permanent fixture. It would, he smiled. At ease. Accepting.