Island of Echoes

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Island of Echoes Page 13

by Roman Gitlarz


  The people of this world, though divided, connect philosophically with their brethren. From what I have learned and observed, there is local pride in traditions and cultural distinctions, but humanity as a whole has somehow shifted their greater ideas of connection. This became perfectly clear later in the evening, when we happened across an image of the great pyramids. Unlike on Earth, their exterior layers of white limestone had not been desecrated to build the city of Cairo and they remained smooth and polished, with gold-leafed tips. I commented on their beauty.

  “They never fail to fill me with pride,” Eireas stated. “Our ancestors were truly gifted in architecture,” he added, looking to his advisor.

  “I had not realized you were Egyptian,” I said, ignorant fool that I was.

  He and Sarmia looked upon me as parents onto a silly child. “I am not,” he answered with some confusion.

  “Forgive me,” I replied quickly. “The word ancestor must have changed meaning throughout the centuries.”

  “I do not mean ancestors by blood,” he clarified, “but all of humanity is joined in spirit.” I could only gaze upon them in wonder, so foreign of a concept this was to me.

  At that moment, I wished with all of my heart that I possessed the same pride for this altered humanity that it felt toward itself. The truth is, although I was filled with countless emotions, I had no such pride within me. I mourned the narrow loss of this paradise. I was jealous of the freedom and prosperity which the Lisispal enjoyed. I was also angry to be the uneducated foreigner within a land far ahead of my own. It was as such that I returned to the apartment and attempted to write of these discoveries. But what enthusiasm began, dejection overtook. My night was long and restless.

  We departed Alexandria in the early morning. I sat alone in the reclining room of the royal ship, hunger suppressed by emotion. I pressed my cheek to the palm of my hand as I watched the lighthouse glide by the window. It recalled the kiss with Ella when we first spotted it, and this memory served to brighten my spirits, if only marginally. Once again, we picked up speed on the open water and the lulling of the ship provided me with the peace which I sought the previous night.

  The ship had slowed its progress by the time I awoke. I stood and stretched, my mind clouded by further want of rest. I looked forward to being back in the palace apartment. Only then did I realize that I had not kept true to my word, for I had yet to ask our hosts of what was to become of us. The thought was accompanied by a tightness in my stomach. Was my euphoria wearing off? I began to fear the unknown now that my self-image had been diminished. It is incredible how differently the world appears with a shift in sense of worth.

  I stepped up onto the deck and saw Daniel at the railing. Beyond him lay the shores of Capribo, the Tower of Marble gleaming in the morning light. I walked up beside the priest.

  “Mr. Laurence,” he acknowledged. “Have you come to try and convert me again?”

  I shook my head. “No, Father. I have not been trying to convert you.”

  “No?” he replied sarcastically. “It certainly seemed so.”

  “I admit, I was instantly enticed by this world and its people. My only wish was that you would discover the same wonder.”

  “Mr. Laurence, do you know where I was taken while you were at the library yesterday?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “One of their people approached me, another speaker of Latin,” he stated. “He asked me if I would like to offer prayers at the local temple. Naturally, he got my attention. Perhaps there was some redemption for these people after all.”

  “Did you go?” I inquired.

  “Oh yes, I was taken to a beautiful temple… dedicated to one of their pagan idols,” he practically hissed the words out.

  I sighed. “Do not mistake my comfort with feeling part of the whole. I am just as much a foreigner here. But unlike you, I don’t fail to see the good of this place. Peace, morality, stability, and education are qualities which this world has in abundance.”

  “They live in peace,” Daniel admitted, “but at what cost? They have lost their sense of self. They live in perpetual blasphemy.”

  I opened my mouth to respond when we heard voices emerging from the other side of the vessel. I perceived hushed talking in the Anuprian tongue. Daniel and I could not see the source from our vantage point, for the elegant white pillars of the deck blocked our view. We stepped around the columns, but what we observed at the other end acted as a silent restraint on my mobility.

  Eireas and Rémy stood together but I was immediately put off by their actions; they behaved in an all-too-familiar fashion. I could scarcely comprehend what I was seeing before the King leaned his hand over and dug his fingers into the boatman’s blonde locks. He pulled Rémy’s face close to his own and they exchanged a passionate kiss.

  I quickly stepped back behind the pillars, my face no doubt crimson at the revelation.

  Daniel chuckled as he observed me, his eyes squinting menacingly. “Morality, indeed,” he mocked, and disappeared below deck.

  Rémy, if you are indeed reading this as you had informed me you would like to do, I must take the time to properly apologize, for I did not defend you as I should have. You must know by now that I had begun to think of you as a brother. My reaction on deck was born solely from surprise, and not from shame. I only regret that I was witness to an act which you believed to be private. Please forgive me, my friend, and know that your happiness is as dear to me as my own.

  I would have followed Daniel below deck but my eyes were averted by movement at the tip of the Tower of Marble. Several segments of the metal framework slid down in their hidden grooves and three long horns emerged from the recesses of the great cone, crowning the stately structure. They called out to us as we approached the shore, a triumphant and welcoming melody. The blast stirred countless birds from their branches throughout the forested capital and simultaneously attracted my companions to the deck.

  “Oh, we are back,” Ella delightedly observed as she emerged into the light. I took her hand and guided her up the remaining stairs. She sported a ravishing purple dress trimmed in golden thread and looked to me like an ancient princess of Atlantis. Eireas and Rémy came to join us at the railing, unaware of their exposure.

  We once again proceeded to the palace with the pomp of a royal procession. The citizens of Capribo greeted their ruler with uninhibited delight. A number of people shouted out to my companions and me by name, but it was clear that we were no longer the center of their attention. The man whom they elected and adored had returned home. I could only wonder how well they knew their King.

  Eireas and his entourage immediately proceeded to the throne room, but Sarmia was kind enough to escort us upstairs.

  “The King is a very busy man,” she explained in the lift. “He regrets not being able to spend more time with you, but he has already neglected some of his stately duties to better acquaint you with our land.”

  “We understand. It is no insult,” I assured her.

  Our apartment, which had begun to feel like home, waited for us just as we left it.

  “Sarmia, there is an issue of some importance which I would like to discuss,” I stated. “My group is most curious as to what should become of us now.”

  “A natural inquiry,” she replied. “I regret that we have not spoken of it sooner.” We settled onto the couches overlooking the gardens and the sea beyond. “You and your companions will be treated no differently than any other citizen,” she declared confidently. “We can provide you with assistance in securing work and housing, but you are expected to become contributing members of our society. You must learn our language and follow our laws, even those to which you morally object.” Her eyes diverted to Daniel, who sat at the dining table pretending not to eavesdrop.

  I sighed with relief. “Thank you, Sarmia. Your assistance would be invaluable.”

  “Certainly,” she replied with a smile. “We offer the same assistance to anyone in t
he Royal Republics. We will collect a list of your skills and interests in the days to come, though I would like to encourage you to pursue whatever paths in life you are drawn to. We can only help you get started; we cannot make you thrive.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  She took her leave and I happily passed the message to my companions, who found relief in the news. All but Lady Pearson, whose age was a concern.

  “Who knows how long these people live,” she pointed out. “Their medicine is advanced.”

  “Have no fear,” Travert solaced. “We don’t have all the details yet, and I have no doubt Mr. Laurence and Rémy can make a good case on your behalf.”

  I quickly agreed and, for the time being, the update put us all at ease. I noted that Ella was exceptionally quiet during our discussion. The two of us came to stand at the wall of glass afterwards and we gazed down at the white domes emerging from the treetops.

  “It’s incredible,” Ella pointed out, “this sense of freedom.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “You control your own destiny here.”

  “Phillip, I don’t pretend to know you well, but I must say that your presence on this journey has made all the difference to me.”

  I turned to look upon her. She stood proud and confident, not at all the timid young woman I first saw emerging from the coach at the Alexandrian docks. “You reflect my own feelings toward you,” I whispered.

  “But,” she continued, and my heart skipped a beat, “I must inform you that I am a stubborn woman. I speak my mind and crave neither conformity nor domestication. Unbecoming of a lady, I know, but it is something to which you must be made aware.”

  I smiled and took a hold of her hands. “Ella,” I responded softly, “I did not think it possible, but I am now even more captivated by you.”

  Her green eyes widened a bit and I saw her lip tremble as she breathed. “Truly?” she whispered.

  I did not bother responding. I brought her close to me and kissed her with no regard for our surroundings. Her body loosened in my embrace and we began laughing in our mutual elation.

  “Shall we walk through the gardens?” I asked.

  “Yes, let’s,” she beamed.

  Rémy was reclining on his bed when I entered our bedroom later in the day.

  “How was your time with Ella?” he asked.

  “Splendid,” I boasted. “We talked of so many things. She is simply enchanting.”

  He laughed. “I told you she liked you.”

  “So you did,” I acknowledged and took a seat on my mattress.

  “I am glad to see your good spirits return,” he continued. “You were not yourself this morning. Was it something you discovered last night?”

  I nodded and recounted the discoveries from the great library. He listened intently. But not being a historian, he needed much clarification of the historical details. When I concluded, he quietly lay back and contemplated the information, studying the carved ceiling above us.

  “And this knowledge unsettled you?” he asked.

  “More than I realized,” I confirmed, likewise lying down. “It does not affect you?”

  “I suppose it is what I have assumed all along,” he admitted. “You and they can speak Latin, so it seems logical that we are all descendants from some similar source.”

  “Yes, but it does not sadden you to know of all the people beyond the reach of this utopia?”

  “It does,” Rémy confessed slowly, “but I suppose I do not dwell on it. I consider myself lucky, very lucky, to have come upon this island. We must treasure the good in our lives, for we do not know what tomorrow may bring. In our case, it was something no one could have even dreamed of.”

  “I suppose,” I reasoned.

  “And do not think of us as outsiders,” Rémy continued. “We are just as much descendants of this world’s past as our own.”

  “How so? It’s as if the song of the ancients has continued to evolve here, while our world is still busy reciting the ancient verses, the ones dedicated to gods, warriors, and other anachronisms.”

  “Think of it a different way,” Rémy suggested. “The world here is an echo of that ancient song, as is our own. Perhaps there are many other worlds out there, one for each possible path. But I believe our home may yet develop peace. At its core, it is descended from the same melody.”

  I felt the emotional weight which I had been carrying lighten as he spoke and I realized how wise for his years the young man was. He was right, of course. My home was not robbed of an opportunity for progress; it had the materials necessary to cultivate it in its own way. The newfound perspective brought me great peace that afternoon. Little did I know that it would be put to the ultimate test that very next day.

  CHAPTER 14

  I walked through a narrow alleyway, dingy and dark. The stone beneath my feet was hard and cold, not at all like the thelísta I had become accustomed to. Never before did I realize how tough on the joints our old walkways were. By comparison, the softened cobblestones of Capribo resembled grassy turf rather than firm urban establishment. The walls beside me were dilapidated. Vestiges of old paint peeled from the dark red bricks on either side. I did not recognize the alley, but I proceeded forward nonetheless.

  I turned a corner and realized I was in a maze of narrow walkways. The overcast sky above me was ripe with moisture and I had the sense that rainfall would break at any moment. I looked to every direction, but the corridors were identical, with no doorways in sight. I began to run, but I was forever trapped in the maze. I looked up to the tops of the buildings. Our petty and familiar architecture stretched above me, every window out of reach. I was trapped. Suddenly a voice echoed through the maze.

  “Phillip!” it called, just as a burst of lightning struck nearby. The accompanying thunder shook the very ground I was standing on. I fell, my face and hands becoming covered in thick muck.

  “Phillip!” I heard the voice again, closer this time. The ground continued to shake. The cold dark stone beneath me began to melt away. It became soft and warm, my hands able to take a firm hold of it.

  And then I awoke. Rémy was standing over me, his blue eyes wide with concern. He had been shaking me in my sleep. I sat up in bed, quite embarrassed, as I immediately recognized our palace bedroom.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quickly.

  Rémy sighed and took a seat beside me. “You gave me quite a fright,” he admitted.

  “It was just a bad dream,” I explained.

  “You were very agitated.”

  “It was nothing, really my friend. I am sorry to have woken you.” I looked at my watch and saw that it was nearly four o’clock in the morning. “Let’s go back to sleep,” I suggested.

  I had almost forgotten the dream entirely by the time I awoke to the sunrise horn. I looked to Rémy’s bed, but it was empty and neatly made. I dressed and stepped into the lounge, though it too was vacant. I suspected my companions were still stirring from their slumber. Breakfast was not even available yet. As for Rémy’s whereabouts, I did not want to speculate any more than was appropriate.

  I decided to sit on the couch and continue documenting my exploits. I had just finalized detailing our arrival in Capribo the day prior when there was a knock at the door. I was most relieved, for my hunger had grown considerably, so it was a great surprise to find Sarmia standing on the other side.

  “Phillip,” she stated, her customary warmth absent from the greeting.

  “Sarmia,” my tone betrayed my confusion.

  “King Eireas would like to speak to you and your companions,” she informed me.

  “I see. Is anything the matter?”

  “No,” she assured me, “though the message is sensitive to time. I will return to escort your party to the King’s audience chamber.”

  “Very well. What about Rémy?” I asked. “He is not in the apartment.”

  “He is already with the King,” she revealed. “I will see you shortly.”

  I closed
the door and informed the others of the summons. They dressed quickly and we waited in the lounge for our hostess to return.

  “I knew there was trouble afoot,” Daniel boasted. “Everything has a price, I have been saying it all along.”

  “She assured Mr. Laurence that nothing was amiss,” Lady Pearson pointed out.

  “Still,” Daniel added softly.

  Sarmia returned shortly thereafter and we were led into one of the lifts. The King’s chambers were located on one of the highest floors of the tower. I later learned we were some forty-two stories high. Although the tower continued to stretch for an additional two hundred fifty feet above us, the cone eventually narrowed to an extent which made residential development difficult. The upmost segment housed the large retractable horns which I spotted from the royal ship the day before.

  Despite its high position, the room we entered was still quite spacious. The outer wall was once again entirely fashioned of glass. The floor was an alternating tile of blue and green stone, which complemented the sheets of polished tan limestone along the interior walls. A modest rug of braided jute lay at the center of the room, atop which stood two dark leather couches. A low table of intricately carved wood was positioned between them. In spite of its size, the chamber appeared intentionally bare, save for a dozen white marble statues lining the edges. The door leading back into the hallway was the only one I could see, though a large archway was nestled within the walls to either side.

  There was a cat on one of the couches. She lay curled in a ball, though our arrival perked her head up and she observed us intently. Her body was small and cream in color, with dark points and beautiful blue eyes. I recognized the breed, for President Hayes had received a cat identical to this one from the Orient several years prior. The graceful little beauty pointed out just how little I knew of the world at large. My studies had hitherto been concentrated on the Royal Republics, but what of the other alliances? Or for that matter, what would I find if I traveled to what had once been my home?

 

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