by Ren Cummins
“You’re sure you don’t know how you can do that?” she asked.
Rom shrugged. “Nothing to tell.”
“It’s totally weird.”
“You keep telling me.”
“I mean, I think it’s kind of… amazing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I mean it.”
Rom paused. This was why she hated being different. “We should go.”
They huddled beneath the opened umbrella and clung to the shadows as they made their way quickly to the edge of town.
The two were still a block away when they could see countless white sparks as the raindrops passed through the barricade at the street’s end. It was a Motive Wall, designed to prevent the mindless nocturnal beasts from wandering onto the darkened streets of Oldtown. Each evening, it was engaged by the Defense Guild – whose sole purpose was to keep the peace and maintain law and order among the people who lived here – and remained up until shortly after sunrise. Due to their proximity to the large wall between them and the central hub of the city, sunrise came upon them slowly. The mountains to the far west gathered up the light from each setting sun, sending dark shadows racing across the open fields to swallow up the town. Enveloped in shadow, only dim lights remained within the town to frighten the beasts away.
The creatures of the wild had begun to invade their home after the machines had vanished, so the Motive Wall was created: a powerful warding spell that generated a gentle but insistent shock to anything without a certain degree of sentience. Even the rain passed through with a slight vibration and glowing ripple through the field – from a distance, the shimmering waves resembled curtains of light, arcing and drifting across the otherwise invisible shield.
The downside of this effect, the girls realized, was that the area near the edge of the barricade was almost constantly bathed in a blue iridescence, making them instantly visible to any who might happen to look in their direction. Luck proved to be with them, however – most windows facing outwards looked to be shuttered or covered with thick drapes, likely to allow the townspeople living within to sleep in spite of the lights.
They both gauged the situation, Kari hesitant to continue. Even though the Motive Wall was engaged, random members of the Defense Guild would often roam the area on patrol, and if they were caught running about after their curfew…
Kari bit her lip. “We have to go back, Rom,” she whispered. “We’ll just find Cousins later.”
Shaking her head, Rom shifted her grip on the umbrella. “We’re already out here; he’s probably waiting for us. It’s only a few hundred yards out there,” she pointed out into the darkness. “And we don’t have to be worried about getting lost, cos of this rain – we’ll be able to see the town for a mile or two.”
“But what if we run into one of the beasts?”
Rom felt a strange tingling sensation between her eyes, and felt lighter, calmer. “Then I’ll protect you.” Without another word, she took Kari by the wrist and the two girls ran across the half-street and through the protective shield, out into the night.
Before they’d gone very far at all into the fields, they found themselves slogging through mud up to their ankles. It was mostly flatlands, however, and this particular section of field the map led them through was under seasonal rest. Though it meant the girls were not in danger of trampling any of the crops, it also meant the land was unplowed and rough, uneven. In the current downpour, it made for slow going.
Seven hundred meters out, they crossed the agricultural barrier, a simple stone fence line that separated the all relatively even squares of land from the untilled and wild growth. Kari stood on the townward side, hands shivering on the rocks as much from the cold rain as from her growing fears.
“Are you sure about this?” she said, her teeth chattering audibly.
Rom’s eyes did not leave the undergrowth. The rain and wind made every leaf and branch shimmer with the ambient moonlight, filtered through the clouds. They were over halfway there, but this would be the riskiest part. Between them and their destination, with growth up to their shoulders and higher in parts, there was no telling. And with the tumult of the rain, they wouldn’t likely hear anything until it was on top of them.
At the same time, the same weather that hid potential predators from them could conceal their presence as well. Rom didn’t know how to answer Kari. She wanted to be rid of this strange musical box; she wanted to hand it off to Cousins and be done with it all. She knew she would be fine, but she couldn’t just leave Kari here by herself. The effort of thinking it all through was uncomfortable for her. She would rather just act and leave the big thinking to people like Kari.
Rom weighed all this and more in a moment, and nodded.
“If you want to stay, it’s all right. I can move faster on my own.”
Kari wanted to respond – she wanted to mirror the unwavering courage she heard in her friend’s voice, but the noise and chaos of the rain on the unkempt foliage shattered her resolve. She shrunk to her knees in the relative shelter of the stones.
Rom paused. That odd sensation was back again, the overwhelming sense of familiarity about this. Hadn’t she already done this? She was almost sure of it, she could feel it in her bones, now.
“Wait a moment,” she said. “Something’s wrong.”
“What is?” Kari asked.
“This - - this,” Rom waved her hand around. “I’ve already done this.”
“You’re not making any sense, Rom.”
She shook her head. Kari was right, she wasn’t making sense. They were carrying a box with some sort of important mysterious something in it to Cousins, who was waiting for him. But then Rom’s vision blurred a moment, and not because of the rain.
It was as if she was remembering it; the rain, the box, jumping high over the bushes and trees just beyond this stone wall, and landing in a clearing by the Machine’s head. And then a monster; and a brief fight. And then flying into the sky, and…
“Kari, I don’t know how to explain this, but…” She looked up as a bolt of lighting sparked across the sky. “I think I might be…dead.”
“You’re what?”
“Dead,” Rom repeated, shaking her head in acknowledgement of how crazy it sounded, even to her. “I don’t know how to describe it, I just know it.”
Kari opened her mouth to protest, but Rom held up a hand. “I can prove it. I know exactly what’s going to happen in the next few minutes; and if I’m wrong, then fine.”
“But what if you’re right?”
She didn’t know exactly what to say to that, so she shrugged. “Then I’ll come back and try this again,” she supposed. “Stay here,” Rom said abruptly, “Count to one thousand, and if I’m not back by then, run home.” The words echoed in her ears, and she gave them no opportunity to distract her. Hopping over the stone wall, she jumped as far and as quickly as she could until she skidded to a stop in the clearing. It was all here, just like she remembered it – the rain and mud, the Machine head and the silhouetted form of Cousins.
Exactly as she expected, the creature and Kari raced from the underbrush, but Rom quickly moved Kari to the Machine and turned to face the monster.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, dodging its initial attack and the next and so forth, remembering all its motions from their original encounter. Finally, she kicked up and over the creature’s horned head, spinning around in the air and landing straight onto its back. The vague sense of echoing recollection drifted away to be replaced by the firm conviction of having done this before – her memories fully extended into all that would happen next, removing all doubt and lack of conviction. Just as the creature had before, it launched them both from the ground and flew up into the heart of the storm.
As the rumbling of the impending lightning rolled in her ears, Rom merely smiled.
You can’t hurt me, storm, she thought, defiantly. You can’t hurt what you’ve already killed.
The lightning flashed again
, covering her and the beast in spears of white-hot energy. To Rom, however, it merely tickled, and she laughed into the storm until the rain stopped and the emptiness swallowed her.
Chapter 8: The World of Spirits
When Rom opened her eyes, everything was white – pure white, free of shadow or texture. Kari was gone, as well, and even her dress was dry, though dirty still from the spattering mud of the fields.
A soft feminine voice drifted from the nothingness that surrounded her. “Welcome, Romany of Aerthos, Romany of Oldtown-Against-The-Wall.”
“Welcome… to where?” she replied, her curiosity overcoming her concern.
“You have surpassed the first of two trials, the Trials of Transition.”
“The what of what?”
“The Trials of Transition. The first is the Trial of Loss, which requires you to discover the truth. Have you learned this?”
“That I’m dead? Yes, I guess so. Whatever ‘dead’ means.” Rom looked around her – she assumed she was looking around her, for there was really nothing else to see but her. “This isn’t what dead is going to be like, is it?”
“Would you want it to be?” asked the voice.
Rom grimaced. “Oh no. This is really boring.” She blushed. “I mean, I’m sorry, it’s your home and you probably really like it and all, but…I don’t think its for me, really.”
The voice laughed kindly. “No, Romany, but you are now in the midst of the second trial, the Trial of Finding.”
“Finding?”
“Yes, Finding. Good luck, Romany,” the voice seemed encouraging. “We will meet again.”
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘find’? Find what?” Rom’s voice sounded strange – there was no echo, no sense that anything at all was out there.
White faded to blue. Not sky blue, and not the color of the deep ice in the middle of the winter months, either. This was a shade found only in the moment the sun slips below the horizon, caught between sunset and starlight. And it was everywhere – it surrounded her, encompassed her. It was – in some strange way – as if she were made of it, entirely. She could hear the screams of her friends, only diffused, like they were above the water and she were somewhere, lost down below the surface.
She wanted to tell them she was okay – or, more appropriately, that she was right here and that she didn’t want to leave. But down, down she went, further past the sunset and out through the shimmering stars.
Then, randomly, she could smell… bacon.
Abruptly, she opened her eyes – and following the momentary disorientation and dizziness, she found herself in a small, simple room. The bed she lay on was of crude construction – wooden beams and straw in place of the springs and steel frame of the beds in the orphanage. The air felt different, as well - - it smelled of… cows. And yet, two other things distracted her from the rest of her sensory exploration.
First, her head hurt. Not just a headache, but a very specific point of achiness in the center of her forehead. And second, there was something warm and furry curled against her neck, beneath her chin. She lifted one hand to feel it – it was soft and breathing – with a gently vibrating rasp in its breath that seemed to suggest contentment to her. Whatever it was, it seemed perfectly at ease here with her. She attempted to learn all she could about it with her hands, carefully feeling it without – she hoped – waking it.
It was the size of both her hands with her fingers extended, with a head small enough to fit in one palm. Its two ears rose up and folded down, but had two sharp nubs on its forehead, just above its eyes. Four legs with paws and tiny – but sharp, she noticed – claws, and something on its back, leathery and folded. She gasped. Hadn’t she been fighting a larger version of this? Or had she? Had she simply been dreaming it? Craning her head, she cautiously pulled the animal from her neck and examined it better.
It definitely seemed the very sort of thing she’d fought with – its fur was a similarly dark shade – in the warm light of the room, she could see that it was mostly charcoal grey but with white feet – with the long tail and, yes, folded wings. The two nubs on its head would likely grow into horns with the creature’s maturity. And how could she imagine fighting something like this? It was so…cute. Why was it here, she wondered? Or, more significantly, why was she here?
Where was ‘here’, anyway?
The smell of food chased that question from her mind. Food was more urgent a concern, she decided. Beneath the sheet of the bed, however, she saw she only wore a simple nightgown – but, across the room, hanging from a nail on the wall, was a dress. On a nearby chair was a pair of socks with a folded set of undergarments, and on the floor beside the chair was a sturdy looking pair of black leather boots. Sturdy, yet somehow still fairly feminine.
Slowly – ever so slowly – she crawled from the bed, careful not to awaken the little creature. Keeping one eye trained on it, she got dressed. Her hands instinctively knew what to do, even though she couldn’t remember ever wearing such a lovely dress; it buttoned snugly from the belt to the collar – not one button was missing – and the skirt was bursting with ruffles. The sleeves descended into buttoned cuffs with even more ruffles, and a large bow was inexplicably adorning the back. Only more confusing than the details of the dress was the fact that it somehow fit her perfectly. Was it hers? It seemed new, and strangely out of place in this unfamiliar room.
She was tying the second boot when the small creature on the bed lifted its head and squeaked out a terribly adorable yawn. Its mouth was filled in tiny teeth, but its pink tongue curled up and made Rom smile in spite of herself. Whatever it was, it was very cute.
It looked around the room, spotted her, and hopped from the bed to the floor, crossed to her and nudged her boot. It did this two more times, and then paused to look up at her with a sort of exasperated expression before nudging her again. At last, she leaned forward and picked it up. She placed it on her lap and scratched it behind the ears. It seemed to enjoy this, but then unfolded its wings and leapt up onto her shoulder, careful to avoid hitting her with them as it did so. Its wings were folded back in an instant, and it turned around to curl up on her shoulder. Its paws kneaded her shoulder and it relaxed again. It lifted its head to smell the air and looked towards the door.
“Okay, okay, I can take a hint,” she muttered, placing one hand on the animal to steady it as she stood and walked towards the door.
The room beyond the door seemed only slightly larger than the one she’d woken up in – but this was probably due to the quantity of things in it. There was a table, several chairs, cabinets, and a fireplace on the far wall.
At one end of the table, there was a plate of food, a cup with what looked like milk, and a small saucer. Little claws dug into her shoulder.
“Yes, yes, I’m going,” she said. The room was otherwise empty of people, but a sudden gnawing in her stomach overrode her sense of etiquette and she promptly sat down at the table and began eating. The creature hopped from her shoulder and began lapping up the small amount of milk in the saucer.
They were almost done when the other door in the room opened. An older woman – judging by the grey in her otherwise black hair – stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Ah, good,” she said. “You’re both up. I was worried, you’d slept so long.”
Rom paused, her mouth open and half-full of the bite she’d been chewing.
The woman laughed. “It’s all right, child, I thought you might be up soon, so I had the food ready for you.” She closed the door behind her and moved closer, sitting in an empty chair on the opposite side of the table. “Go ahead, eat up, both of you.”
Rom swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of the creamy milk. She paused, however, before her next bite. “Where am I?” she asked.
The woman’s expression seemed sad for a moment. “Ah,” she said. “Most people don’t quite figure it out right off.”
“Figure what out?”
“I’ll explain in a moment, dear.” The woman smiled warmly.
“Don’t you think some introductions are in order?”
Rom’s skin darkened. “Oh. I’m er, I’m Rom.”
“Nice to meet you, Rom,” the woman said. “My name is Tifi. Cera Tifi. But you may call me Cera. With a ‘C’,” she added with a pleasant smile.
Her expression made it difficult for Rom to feel badly about her lacking for manners. It wasn’t too often she found herself in a situation even remotely similar to this - if ever, she realized.
“And your little friend, there?” Cera asked, gesturing to the little grey creature who had finished the saucer of milk and was cleaning its paws.
“No idea,” Rom replied. “He was there when I woke up.”
The animal paused long enough to stare at her, then resumed his preening endeavors. Her head throbbed again.
“Are you well, dear?”
Rom waved off her question. “Just a headache,” she said. I must’ve bumped my head when… when I…” her voice trailed off. When she was doing what? It all seemed so fuzzy, now. She couldn’t quite wrap her mind around it.
“You could use some fresh air,” Cera said.
Rom was about to protest, but she then noticed that she’d managed to clean her plate. She must have been very hungry, she couldn’t remember eating so fast since…thoughts of home tried to surface, but fluttered just out of reach like autumn fireflies. Blinking, flickering, then gone.
She nodded. Maybe some fresh air would do her some good. The animal on the table squeaked and leapt onto her shoulder. He did it so casually, just like he always did…always?
Her brow furrowed against the ache and confusion as she followed Cera out the main door into the world outside.
It was a rural community – farms, animals in their corrals, orchards and gardens, with seemingly endless fields stretching off into a vast horizon. They stepped out into the hardpacked dirt road, and Rom was delighted to see horses, cows, sheep and pigs – she glanced up over the single-story rooftops and was enchanted at the deep blue of the sky – it went on forever – no wall to block it…