by Marc Mulero
“It was a long time ago,” she finally spoke. “Seventy, maybe eighty years.”
What is she talking about?
“She hasn’t been alive that long.”
“Not here, foolish demon. In Gushda. That’s how long ago it was for me.”
What the? That’s not the time lapse I’ve been taught, or felt rather, when I travel there. That, would explain a lot though… why her whole perception of reality is warped beyond comprehension. Maybe it’s not just old age.
Yes. Come to think of it, the princess experienced dazes like this before. I’ve seen it first-hand. She would come up for air here in Rudo, and speak complete gibberish.
“I’ve seen Windel. She helped me back to my hut, fed me, bathed me. Good woman, she is. Beautiful too. Way too beautiful for you Ot’mogo, so don’t even think about it.”
“Thanks, Ooma,” he muttered.
“She came with a message too, now that I think of it. Yes. Nice girl, yes. Beautiful girl.”
Mustae. How many intervals like that has she lived through? It could be hundreds of years for her since she’d even heard my name.
“She told me that I had a grandchild here, in the world where everything dies. Could you believe that, Ot’mogo?” Lorfa shook her head. “No, no. That child only exists in here,” she pointed to her esper, and in here,” she rested a hand on her heart. “Oh if you could see how uemon’s do, Ot’mogo. You would see, yes, you would, just how beautiful ve is in Gushda.”
Eres got choked up. It was here in this moment where the irony took him by storm. He was right here, wanting so badly to connect with her, but all he could do was stand by, somehow as her enemy, a nobody to her.
“Amber eyes, smooth tan skin, forest green markings of a Dawn. An Umboro-born through and through. A child of the forest.” She knocked her cane twice to emphasize his rightful place in Dolseir. “I wish I could remember him here. It must be true, that he came to this place, Rudo, yes, because that lovely woman described him perfectly without me asking. No one possesses that kind of Sorcery. It must have been true.”
Eres took a long breath to stop the tears. “Ooma… I’m right here,” he whispered to her back.
But she just hobbled on.
“Come now, one step at a time, demon. Up, up. These are stairs if you didn’t know. Wait a minute.” She turned on the last step, eyes squinted. “How did you know of the books? The door here,” she pointed a shaky finger at the hut, “it’s open. You snooped!” She shoved her cane into his chest.
Eres was taken aback and his eyes darted side to side. “Uhh, just to peek, Lorfa. I was looking for you. I didn’t touch anything.”
She sneered. “Your filthy slime is everywhere now! Mustae knows it’s probably already seeping into the wood. Disgusting. Well, c’mon then. Up, up.”
Eres sighed and followed on dejectedly. He decided he would internalize the nostalgia either way and focus on the bright side. She did often scold him, right? This was just a variation of it.
He bounded straight for his chair, plopped down, kicked off his boots, and curled up like he was a kid again. Illiad’s Octor was right there on top of the book pile beside him, just waiting for him to crack it open once more.
He flipped to a random page. Even though he had the entire thing memorized, it was good to read an excerpt anyway, to see the words on the page:
“Well you’ll have to push me then, Highness. Push me off the ledge, be done with it, never see me again, and consider our meeting adjourned. Well? I’m waiting.” Illiad turned his head to see the Queen’s luscious curls and angular face one last time before his gaze gravitated to the long torch she was holding to his back.
His bum was becoming hot, uncomfortably so.
“Don’t toy with me, Highness. Take your last look at this debonair adventurer before he’s a broken pile of bones washing away down there.” He glanced over the ledge, feeling a sudden gust of wind.
The Queen huffed. “Arrogant.”
“Oh, what? Hot! Hot!” Illiad felt a flame ignite near his hands.
“Selfish,” she continued. “Terrible. Did I say terrible? Terrible!”
And then something happened. Illiad’s rope shackles melted away; his hands were free. He turned in astonishment to have the Queen’s lips plaster onto his.
She pulled away abruptly. “You’re a bastard, Illiad. And I love it. Now go make a show for these imbeciles.
He winked, and she pushed him out the long window, to his ‘death.’
Eres was smiling as he read the excerpt, remembering how badly he wanted his own adventures like that. Well, he got most of it, in his own way, even if they weren’t on his own terms. And one thing was for sure, he’d forgotten how much fun it was to read for entertainment rather than knowledge. Such different sides of the same coin.
Crash. A tray fell to the floor, ceramic contents cracking all over the place.
He turned in his chair, peeking over the back. Ooma was standing frozen, stunned.
“Eres? My eyes, they play the dirtiest tricks on me. Eres, is that you? When? How?”
“Ooma?” Tears flowed immediately. Her whole face had changed, relaxing into an expression he remembered too well. Finally, that moment he’d been waiting for… it was all too much. He nearly knocked the chair over to crash into her.
“Ooma, it’s no trick. It’s me. I came back.”
“Oh, my child,” she buried her round face into his chest, “you’ve grown so. Oh, blessed All-Mother. It is you… it is.”
She pulled back to have a better look at him. Her calloused palm scratched over his smooth face. “Your eyes.” Her voice lowered. “Crelomas o Skrols a tos secres nevorn dune.”
“No, they won’t. You said that to Fata before he left that day. ‘The ancient way of the Skrols will never die.’ I remember it like it was yesterday. And yes, Ooma, it’s true, I am a Skrol now.
“But… you may have to forgive me. I do not plan to live out my years like my fata did, as much as I love him, as much as I love you. You have to know… my philosophy is different.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to be like anyone Eres. Just be you. That’s the whole point of this journey. Be you.” Her chin trembled with a mix of sadness and pride. “It’s coming back to me… it’s-”
“Ooma?”
Her face scrunched in confusion, then she looked appalled again, lost.
“Ugh, get off of me Ot’mogo! What trickery is this? Off!” She pushed herself away, wiping her arms clean from his ‘slime.’
“What is this sickness?” He looked at her sympathetically, holding back tears once more. “Come, this way, let’s get you to your room, Ooma.”
“Stop calling me that!” She swatted his hand away.
The next few minutes of guiding her to the chair upstairs, feeding her, draping a blanket over her trembling legs - they were awful. He so badly wanted to give her a kiss goodbye, to hug her one last time before he was off again for who knows how long. But he couldn’t. She would flail anytime he got close as though he were some annoying insect, a pest that needed to leave her hut immediately.
“Off. Get, errh. Get. Off!” She was breathing heavy, staring at him with scornful eyes. “I don’t need your help. I said you could take the book, what else do you want? Now go! And listen to me you despicable piece of filth. Ay, listen!” She lunged forward and grabbed his chin. “You leave that beautiful girl alone or I’ll track you down and stomp you out myself!”
“Yes, Lorfa,” Eres said dejectedly.
He felt as though he’d arrived back to his homeland in some reverse dimension. All of the feelings he’d felt on Meeting Day - the hate, the confusion - that was what he was experiencing here, at what was supposed to be his home. And in true ironic fashion, Kor was the welcoming place this time.
How backward had everything become?
One thing was for sure out of all of this: Ram’s words were true. Eres would never have a home again. That was the nail in that coffin.
Now, if he was lucky, all he would get was the feeling of having a home, like the one Ram had tried to create for him.
Eres stopped himself in the doorway on his way out of her room. He turned, watching her fidget with her esper.
“What? What are you looking at? My daughter is waiting for me in Gushda. Get out and never come back, Ot’mogo.”
“Goodbye, Ooma. I’ll miss you.”
Her face scrunched with a split-second of sadness, like she was fighting through an ocean of thoughts to find the one telling her that this ‘demon’ was someone good. He saw it for an instant, that flash of recognition. It would have to be enough.
Eres dipped his head as he held back more tears, then turned to leave.
Chapter 40
The White Flag
Eres clapped the front door shut and leaned against it while facing the forest. He let his head fall back with a clunk and sighed. It was draining to see his ooma like that. Demoralizing. There was hope yet, though, wasn’t there?
“She’ll come back. Ooma’s still in there. And when this is all over, I’ll be the one to care for her like she once did for me.”
She’s old, a voice inside his head begged to differ. Spend time with her now, while you still can.
Suns’ light ignited his body to remind him otherwise. Dawn had come. It was time to go, to meet his old friend Ilfrid and the rest of the Alliance, to end this Silent War.
“Alright.” He sighed, pulling out his Glite armor disc and twisting it into his chest.
Metallic straps unloaded all around his body until it fastened, tightened, and made Eres look like the legendary warrior he’d grown to be.
He turned back one last time to the second floor where he hoped Lorfa was relaxing. “Stay strong for me, Ooma. I’ll find you again.”
And with that, Eres jumped and spun into a one-eighty in the same fashion his father had long ago, in this very spot, unconsciously echoing all that he looked up to when he was a child.
Woosh.
He burst into the air with a stylish impeller gust, soaring high while pulling out his live map mid-flight. Chills ran down his spine to see a blinking dot not too far from his location. Ilfrid’s shider – a place of great memories. Warm ones.
“It’s going to be good to have friends again. No more solitude. The old way is dead.” He clicked his device to send him higher and then once more to thrust him on a torpedoed path down into the treetops where he zipped around branches. Click. Click, click. He bounced gracefully as if the impeller was less of a tool and more like another limb. He was showing off for no one, to prove to himself that he could compete with the best now. He wasn’t afraid. He’d died, after all. How many others could say that?
A few minutes later, Eres could see the shider obstructing the trees, decorations hanging from the side and all. “Real discrete, buddy.” He laughed to himself before flipping down from the treetops and landing right in front of Ilfrid with a bang.
The pilot gasped. “Eres!” he shouted and wrapped him in a bear hug, pot belly mushing against him.
He hugged him back.
Ilfrid broke away to grab hold of Eres’ shoulders. “I thought I’d never see you again. Wait… wasn’t that the plan? It’s not every day a Skrol finishes their training and just, you know, pops back into their old life. Your colleagues here have filled me in,” he pointed behind Eres to Vindom, Alphonze, and Herim, “but I have to say, seeing you here… I didn’t expect it at all. You’re supposed to be with Ramillion, no?”
“I guess that wasn’t in the cards.” Eres shrugged, backing away and nodding to the others around him. “Besides, like I told them, I won’t be living in hiding like other Skrols have chosen to. I’ll be out in the open, with the Alliance, fighting.”
Ilfrid smirked, thinking back to some dastardly adventure. “You know a lovely lady once told me, ‘There are more ways to court than to just come into my personal space with two drinks in hand.’”
“Uhh, I don’t see the connec-”
“You don’t?! With all of those scholarly books you’ve read, you can’t,” he poked his two index fingers together, “put it together? I’m saying there’s more than one way to fight, boy. Best offense is a good defense sort of thing.”
“So you think of courting as a game? Like they’re a game?” Eres said playfully, “I would try to stop offending the ladies if I were you.”
“That’s not what I mean-”
“I know what you meant, Ilfrid.” Eres patted him twice. “Don’t worry. I have a plan.”
“That scares the shit out of me, actually.” Ilfrid looked to the others for support.
“Shall we?” Eres hopped up the shider platform. “Where’s that little owin?”
Vindom walked with the two proctors flanking him, all with Glite sparkling under their Kor robes. He looked no less regal than he did in his quarters, but then again, with Vasa’s blades at the ready and Ren’s worldliness, what was there to fear?
One by one, they disappeared into Ilfrid’s shider, with Ilfrid last, shaking his head at the craziness of it all.
“Look, there! I brokered a peace deal down in those depths once upon a time, in the Eplon gardens of Hestee Bu Jank.” Ren pointed out the cockpit window with his bedazzled finger. “Imagine? Escorting a Swul into the territory of her starkest enemy. I’ll tell you, Eres, it took a lot of convincing.”
“I’m sure it did, proctor.”
“Oh please,” Vasa said. “So quickly we forget how she was convinced.” She tapped the blades at her side.
“You were there too?” Eres turned, petting Ilfrid’s owin, who was rolling around his lap in a dopey manner.
“Me and Weapon’s Master Sturn, yep. Every step of the way.”
Ren scoffed. “Well of course, Herim, whatever would any of us do without your blades?” he mocked lightly. “I mean, why even bother with conversation!”
“History!” Ilfrid proclaimed. “I love it. Comradery. I miss it. The Alliance was plentiful once upon a time. And I have Eres to thank for some new blood. You know,” he leaned over to Vindom on his other side, “we don’t really have a long shelf-life, if you know what I’m saying.”
Vindom found his words amusing. “Well perhaps if you didn’t so often charge head on toward the most guarded individuals in the sphere…”
“This was your plan!” Ilfrid protested.
“You didn’t so much as blink before accepting.”
“Oh, oh look. The Variad Slopes.” Ren stole everyone’s attention once more. “See the red vines growing vertical, thin as a string of silk? You can only see them in groves they’re so thin. Like a harp of crimson.”
“He’s a poet now, ladies and gentlemen… and Dawn.” Herim shrugged.
Everyone chuckled.
Ren ignored the jest and instead propped his head up by the strength of his elbow, lost in a daydream. “I courted a beautiful Eplon here. Gorgeous,” he recalled.
“Let me guess, she was all over you.”
“She was an Eplon! Their men hate them! Of course she was all over me.”
Ilfrid cackled and slammed down his fist against the control panel. “I like this guy!”
Eres sat back, eyes turning to each person as they spoke. He very much enjoyed seeing his proctors in less of a professional role and acting more casually.
“Alright, alright. We’re about three minutes out. Everyone ready? Plan in order?” Ilfrid looked around.
“Wave the white flag and hope she takes it as a sign of trust.” Ren made a fist.
“Wh-white flag?” Ilfrid sounded concerned.
“Me.”
Everyone turned to Eres.
“A boundless Dawn escaped from Elesion, broken from Faction custody and out in the ‘free’ world.” He rose from his seat, putting the owin gently in his place. “They will present me, a Skrol, to Spera Noe Donnus so that she will tell us what her connection is to these espers and give us a lead to Seren Night.”
“An Imperion? Have
you all gone mad?” Ilfrid gulped. “My boy, you just came back. What if… what if she snaps her fingers and throws you in the chambers for you never to see the light of day again?”
“Then I guess I would be more inclined to live like my father than I thought – in solitude.”
Herim put a hand on Ilfrid’s shoulder. “It is a gamble, Ilfrid, but we are prepared to give our lives if it means stopping a mass murderer, ending a Silent War, and protecting a dear friend. I would expect you most of all to understand.”
Ilfrid sighed. “Of course I do. It’s just… this boy. He’s like a son to me.”
Eres was standing tall until that statement. It made him cave like he was punched in the gut.
“I’m coming with then,” Ilfrid proclaimed.
“Oh no you’re not,” Vasa interjected. “That is not part of the plan. Say we need a fast getaway. What then? We need you on standby in case this whole mission goes sideways.”
Ilfrid looked up at her silently.
“Trust us, Ilfrid,” she said.
Vindom rose and crossed his wrists behind his back. “I can feel them - the anti-Reachers. They are blocking my connection to the grounds. That can mean only one thing: she’s here.”
“Umm, does that mean they know someone is, pardon the pun, reaching around?”
“Oh my Mustae.” Ren smacked a hand to his head.
“We’re fine. I would have to push a little harder in order for them to detect me. Not worth the risk. Traditional means it is.”
The rotating cockpit seamlessly rolled when the shider adjusted from horizontal flight to vertical landing, everyone feeling the gravity shift in their bellies and the hum of engines in their ears as they eased toward ground. All of the trinkets clanking against the ship may as well have been a parade announcing their arrival.
“Smooth,” Ren mocked.
“Hey! This beauty gets us where we need to go, and she’s kind of decorated like you are, so try not to judge,” Ilfrid defended.
“Are you prepared, Eres?”
“I am, keeper, for whatever the outcome.” He kept a hand resting over his hilt. “It’s worth the risk. We can’t keep hiding in the dark.”