Enaya: Solace of Time

by Justin C. Trout

  Nile woke up to the sweet smell of lilies in this beautiful field of what he came to know as Solace of Time. His chest throbbed in pain, but he was able to push past the annoyance as he got to his feet. He took a step, but his knee wobbled and he fell back to the ground. Nile crawled over to a tree. He leaned against it, taking deep breaths.

  “What is happening?” Nile asked.

  Nile grabbed the tree and he pulled himself up. His knees buckled and his back trembled as he pulled himself up straight. He heard his spine crack. He turned around and leaned his back against the tree catching his breath. A tremendous pain shot through his veins and after a few seconds of standing, he fell to his rear. He leaned against it. A familiar orb floated to his face.

  “Shebris used her magic on you,” the orb said.

  Nile rested his head back and looked down his nose at the orb. In a quick breath, he said, “I was there.”

  “Do not worry. I am with you.”

  Nile took in a harsh, deep breath. “Everyone is dying.”

  “I know.”

  “Is it the end?”

  “The end of humanity . . . no, but the end of innocence . . . yes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That all those you love are fading away. Time has a way of taking things we hold dear to our hearts and placing them in a treasure chest of the past.”

  “Treasure chest?”

  “Memories.”

  Nile smiled. “There is a—”

  “Forgotten season,” the orb finished. “I was there when Bancroft explained it to you.”

  “You were?” Nile asked with uncertainty.

  “Did you forget? I’m everywhere.”

  “Then where are you when I need you?”

  “I’m always there. Just because you don’t see me does not mean that I don’t exist. You have to believe that I’m there and that I’m with you and that through time, things do get better.”

  There was a moment of silence and Nile looked around. “I just want to see my mother.”

  “And why is that?”

  Nile pulled his knees up to his chest, and he rested his elbows on them, extending his hands outward. “I want to see her again and tell her I love her.”

  The glow hovered backward and little lights joined in, forming a bigger bright glow. Nile watched them gather. His head was now hurting and the light wasn’t helping. The orbs continued to grow together—bigger and brighter.

  A flash of light incinerated across Solace of Time. It was so bright that Nile covered his eyes, but he could still see bright dots under his eyelids. When he removed his hand, he saw a figure standing before him. His eyes were adjusting to the light. His focus became clearer and this blur of a figure became his mother.

  Rechelle was ever more beautiful than Nile had remembered. She wore a long white gown that sparkled in the sunlight. Her brown hair seeped over her shoulders and she twirled around, allowing her dress to glow in front of him. She stepped toward him, and Nile extended his knees outward and sat up straight, patting down the grass beside him for her to sit.

  Rechelle stopped above Nile. “My son. My brave and handsome son.”

  Tears formed in Nile’s eyes. “Where have you been?”

  “In a place of solace.”

  “I need you.”

  “I’ve watched you, and I assure you, Nile, that you don’t need me.”

  “I miss you so much.”

  Rechelle sat next to him. Her presence almost pulled Nile in closer to her as she rested against the tree. She grabbed his right hand and then kissed him on the cheek. His heart sank into his stomach. He could feel it. She then leaned back against the tree and stared at him. Her eyes were so beautiful and round. They were like looking into an angel’s eyes.

  “I miss you too,” she said through her soft lips.

  “I grew up the past few years without you. I had no idea where our father is and I don’t have anybody. Woodlands is gone, Dywnwen’s gone. I made a big mistake,” Nile said.

  “Was it a mistake? Or, was this a plan for some greater purpose?” Rechelle asked.

  Nile looked at her with watery eyes. “I’ve killed people.”

  “No, you haven’t. You may have set a new direction for the course of time, but you are not a murderer. I have seen the men who have killed your people. They are evil and corrupt, and you are not.”

  “They call us the Magical.”

  Rechelle moved her hand from his cheek and sat back. “I know what they call you.”

  “And they said that only those who have encountered Seraph can use Enaya. When did I ever encounter Seraph?”

  “That is something you cannot know now. I have seen the path that is laid out before you. You will discover the truth soon enough.”

  “So what do I do until then?”

  “You continue to be who you are.”

  Nile leaned back and looked at her. She smiled at him like a mother would; reassuring her child that everything was going to be okay. There was such passion that radiated from her brown eyes and Nile felt at peace. He knew it would be all right in the end. She squeezed his hand tighter.

  Nile looked around. “Where is Isaiah?”

  “Playing.”

  “With who?”

  “The new children of solace.”

  Nile slumped down. “Is everybody’s solace different, or the same?”

  “Solace is just a place of rest until the end,” she said.

  “The end?” Nile asked.

  “You will see when your time comes,” she said.

  Nile said nothing.

  “I’m always with you, Nile. I always have been.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t you worry, son. This will all be over soon. I’m so proud of you.”

  Nile looked at her. “Will you hold me?”

  Rechelle smiled and opened her arms. “I would love to.”

  Nile scooted closer to her and snuggled in her arms, resting his head on her shoulder. She cuddled him and rocked him back and forth slowly, humming a beautiful melody that he had never heard before. Her touch was warm and gentle. She rubbed her fingers through his hair much like she did when he was younger, but that too was a memory.

  “I love you so much. I regret not telling you that enough.”

  Rechelle smiled and held him tighter. “I love you too.”

  Nile closed his eyes, nearly drifting to sleep. He mumbled, “Where will you be?’

  Rechelle’s warm hands massaged his cheek. “I won’t be far.”

  There was silence, and Rechelle continued to hum her song, and Nile felt soothed on the inside. He fell asleep to his mother’s voice. This was what he was missing.

  Chapter 38

  Keys to the Heart

  Nile woke up to a splitting headache. He rubbed above his eyes, massaging the pain away into the wrinkles of his skin. His eyes hurt. There was a large white light above him that pierced through to his brain. That was where he felt it. His brain throbbed, but he didn’t remember lights like that in the Ancrya. He rubbed his eyes again and looked to his left at a steel bar. A cell. He wondered how he got there.

  Two narrow limbs squeezed him tighter, and for a few seconds he thought he was in his mother’s arms, but his mother was dead. Why would she be in a cell? He looked up to the light to see a blurred figure lean into his vision. Nile squinted and two beautiful eyes struck him. Ashera. She had been holding him the whole time. Tears and dirt covered her face.

  “You look terrible,” Nile said weakly.

  Ashera burst out into a giggle and brought him up to her, hugging him. “You don’t look so good yourself.” She lowered him back over her legs and ran her hand through his hair, smiling at him.

  Nile looked around the cage and saw Leo with his head lowered sitting at the steel bars. “Leo,” Nile said.

  Leo lifted his head from a deep sleep. He blinked a few times and then yawned, but suddenly realized that he wasn’t dreaming. In a sudden rupture of excitem
ent, he crawled over to Nile. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Thanks for being there for me,” Nile said.

  “You’re my best friend. I’ll always be there.” Leo leaned back and rested on his knees. “I promise.”

  “It’s about time you wake up,” Charis said.

  “I forgot you were here,” Nile said sarcastically.

  “Glad to see you’re alive, my boy,” Bancroft said.

  Nile sat up straight and leaned against the bars. He reached for Ashera’s hand, and she rested on his shoulder. “Where is Locklin?” he asked as he looked around the cell.

  “They took him,” Leo replied.

  “Where?”

  Leo shrugged.

  Nile sighed. “So it has begun.”

  “What?” Ashera asked.

  Nile’s stare at her was hollow. “Our deaths.”

  “And there’s no escape,” Ashera said. “I’ve tried, but these bars are too strong for my magic. I can’t even bend them, but I’m also weak.”

  ***

  Locklin was all by himself, hanging by a chain. He was in the dungeon. He knew that. He had been down here many times when he had to bring in other prisoners. He and Norcross had been the judge, the jury, and the executioners in many situations, but Locklin was fair. He never wanted to do anything to harm anybody; it was all about the court system. Everyone deserved a fair trial and he got it; even Norcross admired that, going great lengths to brag about Locklin.

  Locklin never guessed that he himself would be in the dungeon. He played the rules strictly from the book. He never lied, cheated, or stole, and the only time he ever killed anybody was when a terrorist attack happened in Silvago. Two airships flew in from out of their sanctions in Brawlson and landed in Silvago, bombing Token Street, killing hundreds at a sporting event. The president had declared war on them and Locklin fought, piloting hundreds of soldiers over into their barren wasteland.

  Yet, here he was, hanging by chains bound to the ceiling for helping out innocent people who were known as the Magical. It was unfair, but Locklin fell in love with them. He loved Nile, admiring his bravery, his courage, and his calm, collective manner. He could tell that Ashera was right for him; even he himself was interested in Ashera. She was smart, charming, and was extremely beautiful, especially when her nose wrinkled with each laugh. Bancroft had quickly become the father figure to the group, providing many lessons for them to live by. Then of course Leo, who he found to be funny, which came in handy because they needed to laugh. Locklin had grown to love a new family.

  The doors opened behind him. He knew that it was time and he couldn’t imagine the people who had the same feeling that had been in this room before him knowing that it was time for death. Now, Locklin felt those same emotions. His knees wobbled as he tried to stretch his feet to the ground beneath him for support. He dangled only a few inches above the concrete floor.

  Norcross walked around Locklin, glaring at him. Norcross was alone, but held a large battle-ax. There was a design of bone structure, kind of like a wing, that stretched across the blade. Norcross pulled the ax over his shoulder and stood it upright on the ground, resting the blade against his leg.

  “Where’d ya get that?” Locklin asked.

  “From an angered dwarf in Neoclie. I shot him right between the eyes as he charged me.” Norcross looked at the ax from top to bottom. “I liked the ax so much I thought I would put it to good use.”

  Locklin sighed. “These people—these Magical, ya call ’em—they are good people. Why do what ya been doin’?”

  “Locklin, there is something more to this world. It’s power. It’s the power to do anything that you want, to feel a certain way. It’s alarming power. It’s magic. It allows you to be God. There are two kinds of people in this world. First, there are good people, the kind who want the righteous to control the land until everything is golden, and the people who live day by day following the book. You see, these people don’t mean to harm anybody; occasionally they slip up, they repent, they move on. It’s a process they work through. These people never want to hurt anybody and when they do it’s out of anger, frustration, confusion, pain, or whatever. Sometimes they feel revenge, but they know revenge is not theirs to seek, so they pray for their enemies.”

  Norcross picked up the ax and walked closer to Locklin. “Then, there are evil people and this is the kind that is very dangerous. You never know what they’re thinking, and you can’t trust them. They tell you want you want to hear, want you want to believe. These people preach justice and tolerance, but you see, old friend, it’s these people who need to hear about justice, not the rest of the world. These are the people who stand by hoping for war and famine and live to see blood because they know they have power. The moment someone tells you something and you believe it they own you, because they gave you something you didn’t have all along . . . faith. It’s these people who are like me, Locklin. I’ve tasted the magic, seen the power, and I want it.”

  “You’re pathetic.”

  Norcross snarled. “I’m not pathetic.”

  “Yes, ya are. Ya are destroyin’ a world that has no effect on your own world, eh. If ya really want to change the world and be remembered, then why not help the poor; why not be with those that really need it? Do ya desire power that badly, eh?”

  “Yes,” Norcross replied, gripping the ax tighter.

  “When will this stop?” Locklin asked.

  “I’m going to use Enaya, element of time, to go back to our world and bring back more cities with military power, even the city Abistol. Your daughter lives in Abistol, right? She lives with your ex-wife?”

  Locklin shook his head. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “I won’t, but how would you like for her to find out how her father died? I can imagine it now.” Norcross placed the ax at his side, resting it up against him. He used his hands to demonstrate. “You’re father begged like a coward for his life . . .”

  Locklin gritted his teeth.

  “The only thing your father was ever good at was flying an airship.”

  Locklin pulled his hands away, trying to break free. As he kept pulling, his hands rubbed against the chain, causing his wrists to hurt. The chain broke the skin and he bled. He took a deep breath and then tried again, this time pulling harder. The blood lubricated the chains, so he pulled and pulled, the steel rubbing against his wounds in agonizing pain.

  Norcross pulled the ax up and strutted toward Locklin, giving him a sight of final moments, hoping that Locklin would build up his hope to stay alive. Locklin stopped pulling the chains, and Norcross kicked Locklin in the shin. Locklin fell to one knee, the chains catching his wrist and tightening. He screamed. Norcross laughed and walked around behind Locklin, leaning the ax against his neck.

  Then, almost out of nowhere, the walls turned black. A plague stretched across the floor like spilled water. Norcross dropped the ax, scooting away from the black, and it eroded the steel, turning it into an orange ash. Locklin pulled his feet up. He held himself up while the floor beneath him was eaten by the black plague.

  Norcross backed to the door. “What is this?” He pushed through the door and left, leaving Locklin to fend for himself.

  Locklin twisted the chains around his wrist and pulled himself up, bringing his knees to his chest, and holding himself as the floor below him caved in. He pulled up, but slipped from his own blood. He released the chains and fell down, but the chains jerked and caught him. His wrist snapped and he screamed out in pain.

  He reached the chains above him again and yelled out. There was a crunch sound that echoed through his forearms and he screamed, but he never gave up. He couldn’t give up. He had friends and a daughter who depended on him. He pulled himself up again but noticed something.

  The black.

  It swallowed the ceiling, turning it into an orange ash that fell against Locklin. He could smell it. It smelled like rust. He looked up to see the black stretch against the chain, eating it like acid, a
nd within a matter of seconds, the chains snapped and Locklin fell through the opening and landed a story down on the floor. His ankle snapped.

  He screamed out as he fell to his knees. The chains were loose now, so he pulled them apart as hard as he could, releasing them. He grabbed his ankle, pulling the knee close to his chest. He just twisted it, but it popped. It was so horrifying. Locklin had only broken an arm before. It was an accident where he fell two stories at his home outside of Silvago. His little girl had run outside while he was replacing the roof. He screamed for her, but she didn’t listen and she was getting to close to the road. He jumped from his roof, and as he did, he slipped and rolled down the roof and landed on the hard ground below, breaking his arm. He didn’t care, because his little girl was safe.

  He rolled to his back and looked up to see the black spread across the ceiling. The floor was eroding, but what was it? It was something magical. It was something of this world that was attacking Silvago with a vengeance. It was angry for what they had been doing, but Locklin was innocent. His hands hand been clean of this world; if anything, he should be guaranteed safety because of how he helped the others. The blackness looked like a shadow, pouring across the walls, killing everything it touched. And as Locklin lay on his back looking up toward the blackness, it stretched toward him.

  ***

  Nile’s arms slithered around Ashera’s body for a tight squeeze. He didn’t want to let her go. He kissed her head; her oily hair got caught between his lips, but he pressed through it anyways. Leo smiled at them and leaned back against the cell. Ashera pulled Nile closer to him and snuggled in his chest as if she were crawling into a warm bed.

  Bancroft walked around the cell. Through the steel bars, there was nothing but stone walls and four guards with rifles. Escaping was not going to be easy. Yet, as he stood in this room, glaring into the other cages, he couldn’t help but wonder why they were the only Magical in there. He rested his head against them.

  “Leo told me,” Ashera said.

  “Leo told you what?” Nile asked.

  Leo’s eyes widened. “What did Leo tell you, Ashera?”

  Ashera backed away so that she could look Nile in the eyes. She held his hands and looked down to the ground. “He told me about you using Enaya.”