by Jason Letts
“Tell us the story! We want to hear it! You can’t keep it from us!”
The single-mindedness of their fury unsettled him, and he became desperate for a way out. He was only a man, and he couldn’t do the impossible. He couldn’t reveal what he kept hidden even from himself.
“School is finished for today! I’m sick and need to go home! You can’t make me!” The students rebelled louder each time he spoke. Fortst had never felt so defenseless and so powerless. He slunk down onto the floor behind the lectern, hoping the students would go away and leave him alone. Tears filled his eyes and he pulled his massive trench coat over his head. He knew in that moment taking this job had been a mistake.
He recalled how he’d never imagined he’d live to be so old and how he wished he hadn’t spent so much of his time alone. It stung him that the few people he had grown to care most about had been so ill repaid for their friendship.
The rabble died down, but no one left the schoolhouse. Fortst held those painful memories with a light and trembling hand. But a rude awakening came to him in the form of Chucky, who had crawled next to him behind the lecture. His thick sides peeked out from his shirt as he leaned up against Fortst, startling him. He didn’t speak at first, but just watched with his big, brown bear eyes. Fortst felt like they were drinking him with their empathy and forgiveness.
“Teacher, you need to tell this story more than we need to hear it.” Chucky whispered into the man’s pale ears. “The past can’t get you anymore. It is waiting for you to conquer it. The only way to take control of what happened is through the telling. You’re not one to shy away from a fight, and this is how you take the fight to a story.”
Fortst gave Chucky a puzzled look. His heavy breathing started to calm down.
“I’m not afraid of a story,” Fortst whimpered.
Chucky scrambled back to his seat, leaving Fortst to eye the space he abandoned. Looking for wisdom and hoping for peace, a huffed cry escaped from his lungs, and he lurched onto his knees and up to his feet.
The silent students waited and waited, their eyes curious and receptive. Even one judging look from the crowd would have brought him to tears. But, with a nervous stutter, he ground the words through his throat.
“I’ve just never, never told anyone this before. This was supposed to be my secret, my burden, something that only haunted my dreams and looked at me from the dark. But I can’t let it haunt me anymore, my greatest failure.
“The old man, a mystic of sorts, who channeled the steps through the ground and through his bones, guided us through the wastes. And let me tell you, he would not have been able to make the journey alone. We carried him up cliffs and over rapids, through the southern fingers of the great frozen desert. Our maps became useless, and we wandered for months. Spirits cracked and healed many times, but we took the chance that a payoff unlike any ever heard of was at hand. My brothers of the badlands and I took care of our unconscious guide as best we could. We guarded him, brought him food, and urged him on.
“In some ways, he became our pet, operating on a basic level of consciousness. He often forgot what he was doing or settled down to rest while the sun still hung high in the sky. We drove him, encouraged him, or scolded him as was necessary, but deep down we empathized with him. He searched hopelessly for a way to save his village long after it had been destroyed and long after his own body had given up.
“But, slowly, signs came that we were approaching something, even if it meant that weeks or months of trekking remained. We saw his feet drag deeper into the dirt or the sand, reaching for those buried footprints. His path became more direct, and we imagined the frantic flight of the defeated trying to get as far away as possible. He seemed to sense nearby footsteps also, perhaps feeling the bustle and the commotion of those in the crowd who wouldn’t make it through the journey.
“We talked about him, complained, and judged his behavior as if he weren’t there, but eventually he led us to a low plateau in the shadow of a much taller mountain. Grasses covered the plain, but no sign of human or animal life presented itself. No insects bothered us also, which unsettled us even as we were relieved to meet our destination.
“We crossed the plain and descended into the nook before the mountain. We lowered the old man down, wondering where he would lead us next through this jagged crevasse. A fierce wind swept through and he almost fell to his death. But he stepped down on a stable ledge and looked around. The mountain wall on the other side was too far and a great distance still remained to the bottom.
“We called to the old man, shouted at him, and waited for him to guide us. ‘Which way? Let us move on!’ But still he would not move. His back supported against the rock wall, he seemed to sleep standing up. We fretted his body would give out completely and we would be stranded there, so close to our goal but lost to it forever.
“After a day of waiting on the cliffside, one of my brothers hit upon an idea of genius. He said we must have arrived, encouraging us to scour the rock face for an entrance, loose rock, a cave, anything. We couldn’t find any markings, any evidence that anything had ever existed here before. Returning to the old man, who still leaned against the ledge, we moved him to another safe place and then unleashed the full force of our strength against that rock face. We attacked, mutilated, and pierced the solid stone, chipping away at it, willing it to disintegrate.
“We applied our powers and even then only made painstaking headway. A small cave formed in the rock, enough to allow our elderly guide to give us a hint about our direction. We dug down underneath the plateau, shoveling the displaced rubble into the crevasse. Our path sloped downward, so far that little light entered and we had to build supports for the walls.
“Slashing and cutting, we delivered one last strike that caused the rock to give way completely and together we slid through the opening and fell into an open cavern. The fall was not far, just completely unexpected. When we came to our senses, we lit torches and discovered we stood in a great hall with massive pillars and intricate decorations. Dust and silt covered all surfaces, but the majesty and the scope of it beckoned our wonder and took our breath away.
“The first thing we did was ensure we could get back out again, and then we quickly moved onto the task of exploring this new environment. Carrying torches, we saw frames on the walls without paintings, wooden furniture reduced to piles of toothpicks, and embedded jewels of a kind we had never seen before. The timeless stone dwarfed all of it.
“Cataloguing the different corridors that connected to the hall, we explored other rooms linked through passageways in the floor and ceiling. The palace soon seemed more like a maze, but we kept close to each other, just in case this place was not so vacant as it seemed. The only things we found though were decomposed materials and dust, which very well could have been human.
“Checking off another passageway, we made our way back to the main hall and walked down the center aisle. We saved the most decorated passageway for last, the one that stood opposite the entrance. We ducked into it and an eerie sensation made the hairs on our arms stand up. The air smelled funny, like rotten milk. I just wish we’d given up right then and turned around to go all the way back.
“But we didn’t. We didn’t know. And we emerged into a throne room that felt both like a womb and a grave. Everything felt lighter there. Our weapons were weightless. But as we looked around we saw skulls levitating in the corners around roots that peeked through the walls. That should have been a clear sign something was terribly wrong, but what we saw next could not be ignored.
“I’d like to tell you a special light shone down on it from above, or that it shimmered in its own dazzling light, but it didn’t. It was dirty and dull like an old shoe you find by the road. But it just sat there collecting dust on a pedestal in front of the throne. It looked like a rock, but we were drawn to its presence, and we inched forward.
“All time seemed to stop and we held our breath. The diamond carafe of Hakotin lay lifelessly on the
pedestal, the glory and the power of an omnipotent king who preserved the one thing he cherished above all else. The desire to know what it contained drew us forward.
“Our hands left our sides, all reaching toward the carafe, this little bottle. A sudden vision came into my head. My mind’s eye collected around the image of a planet, our planet. It constantly changed, moving along a cycle of death and rebirth. A flourish of green gave way to an absolute of gray. I watched it happen before my eyes more times than I could count. I wanted that power. I wanted it for myself. The temptation to rule the world drove me out of my mind.
“In that still moment, I turned my hand against those around me. I needed it because it belonged to me. I drew my weapon and prepared to strike. But something happened that I did not expect. Swinging at them and forcing them back, I drove my friends into the hands of my enemy. Arent stood at the edge of the passageway. He leapt out and grabbed my friend by the shoulder. I could hear his heart burst within his chest and he perished immediately, collapsing onto the floor.
“I recognized his blank stare, like his body operated apart from his mind, and my greed gave way to a tidal wave of rage. The shame and the failure that his presence laid around my neck was enough to choke the life out of me. His presence could only have one explanation. He followed us for a year, staying out of sight, waiting for us to lead him to something of immeasurable value. We never detected him, never imagined that we brought our ruin with us.
“Rushing forward with a warrior’s yell, my compatriots thought I was attacking them. They defended the man who wanted to kill us all, and while they did so he came up behind them and finished them off. I tried to tell them what was going on, but by the time they realized we were not alone it was too late. My last companion and I coordinated our attacks, but Arent was too agile and too cunning.
“He shattered my friend’s sword and fell upon him. By the time I got there, it was too late. A pain seared my heart that you can never imagine, and I swore to myself revenge would be mine. We brawled furiously. I held his wrists so he couldn’t do the same to me as to my friends. But I knew the only way to finish him was with his own power.
“I forced him up against the wall near the entrance. My anger and my hatred boiled over, and my strength overpowered him. In an instant, I seized his hand and reached out for his head. But he ducked out of the way and forced my hand to the wall, which exploded, spewing rock fragments everywhere.
“It knocked Arent unconscious, but I sensed the ceiling would collapse and bury us under tons of stone. I dove for the entrance as the room behind me filled with the rock from above. Unable to look back, unable to rescue the diamond carafe that had been my greatest hope and greatest failure, I dashed for our tunnel while the cavern crumbled and filled. I could hear the pillars shatter and feel the ground shake from the weight of great boulders.
“Why I ran so hard, why I wanted to escape from the threat of being buried with my friends, I don’t know. It was instinct, self-preservation, I guess. I wasn’t thinking. But I would have all the time in the world to think about this disastrous series of mistakes while I wandered the wastes alone. Arent left our guide’s mutilated cadaver for me on the cliff’s ledge, and so I was the only one who made it out alive. That massive plateau had transformed entirely, obliterating the ancient palace lodged underneath it.
“The regret and despair over that chain of mistakes haunted my life. Deciding to pursue such an unbelievable artifact, the greedy impulse that made me turn on my friends, my ill-timed attack that sealed their fate, and my desperate need for revenge all ruined my chance at controlling the greatest power the universe could conceive. In my moments of weakness, I think about that. Only one man stood in the way of gaining the diamond carafe. Still, I couldn’t conquer him. I was so close.”
The effort of telling the story exhausted Ogden Fortst, who leaned over the lectern with limp legs. His eyes burned on the verge of tears, but that seemed to keep the students quiet. The horrible images he saw in his mind contorted his face as though they were right there in front of him.
“You don’t need to punish yourself for trying to take the carafe. If my gift has taught me anything about emotion, I know your friends were thinking the same thing. If you had waited another moment, one of them would have done it,” said Roselyn, who had difficulty restraining herself from alleviating her teacher’s pain.
“Don’t feel bad about taking a chance at discovering something incredible. If someone started talking about a completely improbable, totally unrealistic way to become the all-powerful ruler of the globe, I would be the first one onboard,” said Vern, checking the reaction of his peers.
“If I were in the same position as you, trying to get revenge for my friends, I know I would have done the exact same thing. I know this. Nothing would have held me back from making him pay the price,” said Aoi, her fiery eyes looking much the same as Fortst’s might have in that moment of rage.
“I just wish it had never happened,” Fortst mumbled, shaken.
Chucky spoke up. “You didn’t have control. It wasn’t up to you how it all turned out. You need to forgive yourself for not being all powerful.”
Fortst nodded grudgingly. “That’s all for today. I can’t do anymore,” he said, looking worn and vulnerable. Slowly, he collected his things and trudged to the exit even though the morning was only half over. The students had trouble conveying their astounded, awe-struck impressions. They spent a while reckoning with the hardships he endured and the decisions he faced.
“That may be the most important thing he’s ever taught us,” mumbled Dennis, who the other students crowded around.
“I had no idea about any of that stuff. Man, he’s had it tougher than I thought,” said Will. “I wonder how he ended up here.”
“Probably just wandered aimlessly until he showed up at the outpost and started begging for something to do,” said Kurt.
“How long ago did all of that take place?” Mira asked, but no one had an answer.
“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Jeremy disagreed. “I’m not saying he’s lying, but I don’t think all the stuff about an ancient kingdom is real. And that stuff about a king with all the powers is completely ridiculous. Has anyone ever heard of anyone with more than one power? No, you haven’t. I rest my case.”
“Where do the powers come from?” Mira asked.
“Well, those of us with powers received them from the web of the universe when we were born. That’s what my parents taught me and that’s what I know. His story just conveniently plays off of that by saying the powers went there after the first people died.”
“You mean that’s what you believe. You never followed a power from the web and saw it climb into an unborn baby, so you believe it but don’t know it,” Mira added.
“No, I know it,” Jeremy protested.
“Ok, then prove that powers come from the web of the universe.”
“That’s easy. Just show me a baby being born and it’ll have a power that came from there. Boom! That’s proof for anybody who isn’t blind.”
“Wait, but I was born and I don’t have a power that came from the web. Oh no! I just blew up your theory,” she said.
“If I were the web of the universe, I wouldn’t have wanted to give you a power either,” Jeremy grumbled, getting up to venture out into the snow with a group of students, Roselyn among them.
“Hey Chucky,” Roselyn called. “That was impressive. You can’t force those kinds of feelings on someone. They have to come from within. I’m not sure I could have done what you did.”
Chapter 8: The Team Trial
Mira too got up to leave, but she assembled her notebooks and supplies absentmindedly. She wondered how she could have better argued the difference between knowing and believing. It seemed to her that to know something is to be able to prove it with observations, measurements, and experiments. A belief is an assumption about something that doesn’t need to be verified. No one can go up into the web of t
he universe to see where all of the unused powers are stored. So they can believe they are there, but they can’t know if they are.
Pulling her pink knit cap over her head and hair, she braced herself for the blizzard waiting outside and turned for the exit. It startled her to find Aoi leaning against the doorway, watching her intently. Frozen strands of black hair curved around her face, bunching together like claws. She seemed so sharp in that moment, from her piercing eyes to her bony cheeks.
“Do you consider yourself to be a selfish person?” she asked. Mira, still off-put, needed a moment to decide how to respond. Aoi watched her with a careful, thoughtful expression.
“I try not to be. Why do you ask?”
“So if one person took all the credit for other peoples’ work, you would think that’s wrong, right?”
“I guess. Wait, what are you talking about?” Mira asked. Aoi left the doorway and took a deliberate step into Mira’s personal space.
“I’m concerned, Mira. I’m afraid about what’s going to happen to us.”
“Afraid? Why?”
“Don’t you see what the problem would be if Vern graduates at the top of our class? We would all be pawns in his game to make himself look good. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and I would hate for our sacrifice to go to his ego. Haven’t you noticed it too?”
The sound of Aoi’s voice, usually so crisp and clear, warbled as she spoke. It carried so much emotion, and its emergence shook her. For her part, Mira did recognize what Aoi referred to. She remembered Vern’s reasoning why he should remain class leader. It gave her a funny feeling, and Aoi’s words helped her realize why. Now that some time had passed, all Mira could remember him saying was “I.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Mira asked.
“Because I heard something interesting. Maybe it’s just a rumor, but maybe it’s not.”
“What is it?”
“I heard that Vern is thinking about picking you for the Team Trial next week.”