Blood, Ink & Fire

by Ashley Mansour

  “About two miles,” Ledger says. “We can hike it in a little over an hour.”

  “Only one of us can,” I say. “My grandfather hasn’t woken up in hours. He can’t go. One of us should stay with him.”

  “I’ll go.” Ledger offers, his eyes intense. “You should be with him . . . when he wakes up.”

  You mean if he wakes up. I know what Ledger is implying, that my grandfather may not have long and I should be with him, just in case. “All right.”

  We prepare the backpack with some supplies, sticking to the necessities. A few rations of dried fruit and bread from Pedanta, water from Killem, and Hale’s gun. I count the volumes we have. Only two left to save my grandfather’s life. Two left before I disappear.

  Before he leaves, Ledger helps me build a fire outside for warmth, for protection. When it gets to be dusk, the trees seem to thicken and chirp with life. I set up camp while Ledger gathers extra wood for the fire. “You’ll have to keep it going,” he says. “Add some kindling every thirty minutes or so, but don’t burn it too fast.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” I say as he adds dried bark to the flames, making them spark. “Here we are building a fire when the Risers must have spent every waking moment trying to put them out.” The embers grow into flames, warming my face and hands. I soak in the temporary comfort of the fire’s heat and light.

  Ledger is pensive as he stokes the fire.

  “It will be pitch-dark soon. You need a light,” I say.

  “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  “What is it, Ledger?” I whisper. “I know there is something bothering you.”

  “I can’t explain it,” he says, hesitantly. “It’s just a feeling I have, but I think you should know . . .”

  “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know if you’ll understand this. But I feel my life is a little bit like a star, burning brightest just before . . . before . . .”

  My stomach turns. “Before what, Ledger?”

  “Before it goes out.” He turns to me, his eyes wild, the light of the fire reflecting on his skin. “Listen, Elle.” He breathes. “I can feel them dwindling inside me. There are only two parts of the story left. Two visions.”

  “And then what?” My heartbeat is uncontrollable. I don’t want to hear whatever he’s going to say, but I need to know what is happening.

  “And then, I think the light will go out.” He stokes the fire, avoiding my gaze.

  “No.” I shake my head in disbelief. “No. Please . . .”

  “Elle—”

  “No!” I shout. “It can’t happen that way!”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” Ledger mutters. “I should never have told you.”

  “What were you going to do, just keep pretending with me?” I say angrily, feeling the heat rising in my face. “Pretending like this wasn’t going to happen? Why did you come here? Why did you bother? What could I possibly gain from having you and then losing you?”

  “You haven’t lost me, Elle,” he says. “We still have time.”

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know exactly. We can hold back on the visions,” he says darkly, “but there comes a point when you need to see them. Do you understand?”

  “So once you show me these visions, then what?”

  “Every story has an ending,” he says softly. “Anyway, the reason I told you was not to upset you. The reason I told you was so you’d know what to expect when the time comes. I just thought, maybe then you could choose . . .” His voice trails off into the crisp night air.

  I feel so alone sitting here, wanting to reach out to him. Wanting him to hold me. But I know what it would mean now for us if we did. Every touch, every embrace means Ledger will be ripped from me sooner. I’d never touch him again if it meant he could stay with me.

  “What’s there to choose? You’re leaving me. That’s the end of it,” I say bitterly.

  “But maybe you can choose how it happens. I thought maybe it could be different. Just once . . .”

  “Different how?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, looking away. “Purposeful, instead of just an accident. Both of us, instead of just one . . . together.”

  “It will never be both of us, because I don’t want to lose you, and seeing the visions means that I will! I don’t want you to give up your life for me, to give me this story and leave me alone!” I shake my head and tilt my chin up to the sky, trying to make sense of what I’m feeling. “Not like this. Not here in this world. I don’t want to be here if you’re not with me.”

  “Don’t say that,” Ledger spits. “Your life is such a precious gift. Every part of it. Even the bad parts. To exist at all, to know what it’s like to live as a human. You asked me why I came here? I came here to help you, to give you this story. But I also came here to experience this wonderful thing called life. With all its heartache and joy and wonderful humanness. I waited eons to know what it is like to live as you do. I’d wait them all over again if it meant I could have this little speck of time with you, Noelle.”

  Ledger stands, hoisting his pack. “I just wanted you to know that before I left. Just in case.” He turns, heading for the trees. In seconds, I know he will be gone. Run to him. Run to him and don’t let him go. But I know he has to. My grandfather’s life depends on it, and even though I know it will cut our time short, even though I know what it will mean, I call out his name. I run to him.

  He looks at me, startled, as I fly toward him, refusing to let him go without knowing my truth. “I’m glad you came to me,” I whisper. “No matter what happens, I’m glad, and I always will be.”

  He smiles, his features releasing the most human expression I know. His eyes soften with relief as he pulls me to him. My hands hover near his face, then bury themselves in his hair. His arms circle my waist, enclosing me. “I’m glad that you are glad,” he says. He nuzzles my ear and his hands roam my body. I feel all kinds of warm and silky, wanting to melt into him and never stop, never let go. I resist the darkness, the spread of the vision as it invites me in. I just want another moment with him, to find his lips with mine.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispers as the world darkens. “This one is not like the others.”

  His lips caress my jawline. They find my mouth, binding me to him with a single kiss. His warmth fills me with all the light of the universe. Then like a bright spark, the door to the vision opens. I pull my lips from his just long enough to whisper I love you. Then his stars surround me, and I fall.

  NOELLE

  THIRTY-NINE

  The air smells faintly of vanilla. All around me is the strangest warmth, as if I’m being lit up from the inside.

  “You can look now.”

  The darkness fades as a vast chamber of books blooms to life around me. Books rise from floor to ceiling in every direction I turn. Their spines huddle together neatly on shelves winding up countless floors. I know where I am without hearing it. I can smell the pages. I feel the hope of this place within me like a heartbeat.

  “It’s beautiful, Hamlet,” a voice says. When I see her, I stir with the sudden unease of knowing her future. Prospero. I don’t want to see how she dies. I want to reach out, to warn her. But I know this is not real. It’s a glimpse only. A story I am living for just this moment.

  “You said you wanted it to look like a church,” Hamlet says. “So that’s what I did.” He takes her hand as Prospero gazes up toward the dome at the very top of the chamber. “Prospero?”

  “Please, don’t call me that here,” she says. “For once, let us use our real names.”

  “All right.”

  He guides her into the light, which spreads diffusely over the books. She turns, her face fully illuminated for the first time. When I see her, I’m startled. She looks just like me. Or I like her.

  “You’re like an angel, Rose,” he whispers. “An angel in heaven.”

  She blinks her large blue eyes in amazement. “Are you hop
ing I can save you, Martin?”

  Hamlet’s face crinkles as he smiles. “Not even heaven can save us, my love.”

  “They are really all in here now, aren’t they?”

  “They are indeed.”

  “How long do we have?”

  “An hour. Maybe two. The simulcast went out this morning.”

  Prospero nods, resigned, a look of sadness taking hold. “I don’t want it to end.”

  “It must,” Hamlet says. “We knew what we were doing.”

  “No, I don’t mean the Rising,” she whispers. “I mean this. You and I.”

  “Oh.” Hamlet turns from her, a hint of embarrassment hidden in his expression.

  “It’s funny. Down here, away from all the smoke and fire, you just look at all those books and wonder . . .”

  “Wonder what?”

  “Why it has to be this way. Why we can’t just repair what’s been broken.”

  “We tried, Rose,” Hamlet insists. “Don’t forget that we did try.”

  “I know. It’s just sometimes I have to remind myself that we did everything we could.”

  They sit on the floor. The light shines overhead like a dim beacon. Prospero twirls a strand of her brown hair between her fingers. “Do you think they will forget us, Martin?”

  “At first, maybe. But I think you dreamed about the future for a reason. So that you’d know it would be okay to let it end now.” Prospero nods, tears pooling in her eyes. She sniffs and wipes her face, trying to hide it. Hamlet pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap. “It’s okay,” he whispers soothingly. “You don’t have to pretend with me, like you do the others.”

  “I know.” She lifts his chin slightly and gazes into his eyes, then kisses him so fiercely, so passionately, I feel suddenly as if I shouldn’t be here. But I can’t leave. I can’t even shut my eyes.

  She pulls away, her eyes red and tearful. “I just keep thinking about the baby. How can I leave her like this? Without her ever knowing me?”

  “It’s better she doesn’t know. Knowing would ruin her life forever.”

  “You’re right.”

  Hamlet strokes her hair, pulling it behind her ears. “And she’s with Lady M now. You always said if you had a girl, you wanted her to be strong.”

  Prospero lets a little laugh escape. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Well, I guess you got your wish. Because you, Rose, are the strongest human being I know. She will be just like you.”

  She kisses him fervidly. They hold each other desperately as though at any moment time will take them away. They run their hands over each other, then abandon their clothes—peeling anxiously, hurriedly—releasing themselves into the light until they are before each other in their bareness. Their bodies unite and move together in a strange indefinable act I’ve never seen and yet somehow understand. I know what they’re feeling as they hold each other, as they move at the same time. As they become just one body, one heart.

  “I love you,” Prospero says. “I love you, Martin.”

  He kisses her as though it is both the first and last time. “Rose, my whole world is here right now with you. This is everything. You are everything.”

  When the moving slows, they lay together in the soft light, the spiral shelves of books surrounding them like a protective shield. “I wanted to give you so much,” he says. “I thought I could somehow, you know. That’s what I believed. That no matter what was happening, I could somehow give you this whole other life.”

  Prospero props herself up on her arm, her soft curves pressing against Hamlet’s chest. “But don’t you see? You did. You gave me an entire world.”

  “It wasn’t enough,” Hamlet says, groggy. “It will never be enough. Never . . .”

  “It was enough. I promise you, it was enough.”

  There’s a look between them I cannot identify, but it seems as though they are speaking their own silent language.

  “At the same time, then,” Hamlet says.

  “Yes. Together.”

  Their hands find each other in the dark. Between them a pair of glistening vials lift, just inches from their lips. They kiss each other with a quiet sorrow before their heads tip back, their eyes close with tears inside them. The vial consumed, Prospero falls to the floor. Her limbs quiver quietly as her soul is set adrift.

  Hamlet holds her head and calms her, her eyes large and vacant. “Shhh. It will be over soon, my darling.”

  Her body convulses on the cold floor a moment longer, then falls still. Hamlet stares at her, stroking her naked flesh, talking to her quietly even though it is clear: Rose is gone. Prospero, the leader of the Nine of the Rising, is dead.

  “I’m so sorry, my dearest. But I could not let them find you this way.” Hamlet covers her bare body with the clothes, draping his white shirt over her face lightly and smoothing the edges against the floor. He stoops, kissing the impression of her lips beneath the cloth. From one of the shelves he removes a book. He flips through the pages until he lands on one. “Perfect.” Hamlet lays the open pages across her chest. “Ever the reader. At least now, they will know that these pretty bones belonged to you.”

  He rises to his feet wearily, as if just standing is a tremendous effort. “Oh, my love, you should have died hereafter. Out, out, brief candle.” He raises the vial to his lips and cries out. “Now I shall follow thee!”

  Hamlet tilts the liquid down his throat, then plunges to his knees. His hands grip the marble floor. His limbs twist with vacant agony as his light fades. His body convulses until the final breath of life is sucked from him and he comes to rest, a mere shadow upon the ground of the Archive.

  NOELLE

  FORTY

  When I wake, Ledger is gone. The fire burns low. I sit up and stoke the embers until the flames blaze. I check my watch. 24:00:17. One day left. I sprint to the RV, expecting my grandfather to be much worse, but he’s not. He’s sitting up in bed, looking at the ceiling.

  “Grandpa!” I race to his side.

  His breath is slow and heavy. He lifts a shaky finger to the sky. “The stars. Are they out?”

  “Yes. It’s night now.”

  His eyes shoot me a glassy stare. “I want to see them.”

  I wrap Grandpa in blankets and cover his head. He has a fever, and yet he shivers. I drag out the foam cushion from the RV sofa for him to sit on, then help him to the fire’s edge.

  “Oh my,” he says, leaning back toward the sky. “It’s been years since I’ve seen the real sky like this.”

  His hand searches for me and pulls me to sit next to him. “See! The constellations are so clear.”

  I follow his gaze, the little points of bright white scattered across the great black skin of night. Out here the air is rough and wild, the endless forever so clearly set before us, as if just to make us wonder.

  “Right now you’re looking at the past,” he says. “Millions and millions of years into the past.”

  “How?”

  “The stars are so far away from us, it takes their light that long to reach us. The truth is, by the time we see them, they may not even be there anymore.”

  I bury my head in his shoulder. “I saw it, Grandpa. The Archive. It’s real.”

  “Rose?” He licks his lips, his skin dry with the cold wind.

  “Yes, Rose was there, with the books. I’m going to find it. I promise you.”

  “I believe you,” he says. “You have always gone your own way. You are just like her. I see so much of Rose in you.”

  I hug him tight and kiss his cheek. “There’s one thing I have to know. How did you manage to remember what they took from you?”

  “The words?” Grandpa says. “The truth is they never truly left me. I found my way back to them like I found my way back to Edith.”

  “But they took your memories of them,” I say. “How did you get them back?”

  “I don’t know that I did get them back,” Grandpa says. “I think I simply refused to chan
ge what I was.” He closes his eyes. “I wish it would hurry up,” he breathes. “This thing taking hold of me.”

  “Stop. You can’t wish that.”

  “I do,” he says. “I’ve spent my life trying to keep those I love safe from Fell. And now all that stands between them and you is this old heart beating away in here.” Grandpa hits his chest and wheezes.

  “Let’s get you back inside,” I say, lifting him. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “No!” he yells, resisting me. “I just want to look at the stars awhile.” He lifts his hand up. “Do you see that light there on the horizon line?”

  I hunch down by him and follow his finger. “Yeah, I see it.”

  “That’s Mintaka. Looks like one star, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper.

  “Well, it’s not. It’s two stars orbiting each other so closely that from here we can’t tell the difference. We can’t separate them.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Grandpa looks at me with softened eyes. “Because I used to teach it. I used to teach children about the sky. Now,” he says, sitting up. “What do you suppose we do with a star like that?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, what do you think it looks like? That row of stars?” He traces the outline with his finger in the night sky. And soon I see it. The shapes converging, the light blurring to form a picture.

  “It’s a man. Standing.”

  “That’s Orion, the Hunter. And Mintaka is one of the notches on Orion’s belt. You see?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  Grandpa turns to me, his eyes suddenly serious. “Now, whenever you look up, you will see him there. You will always see him now that I’ve shown him to you, Elle.” Grandpa grabs my hands, pressing them between his palms. “You must not forget how to see. No matter what they do to you, you cannot forget the way to see.”

  “I won’t,” I say hesitantly. “I promise.”

  I jump at the sound of footsteps nearby. The trees rustle. Ledger races toward us, his face white with panic. “It’s gone,” he says breathlessly.