Markram Battles: Omens of Doom (Part II)

by Muhlenkamp, M. C.

  Thirteen stops to look down a particular alley, but I can’t see her face. I somehow manage to convince myself that I have sufficient grasp on my ability to lower the wall just enough to taste her sense of sight. One of the glass structures flickers into my mind, coiling up and around itself like a mountain of snakes. I can feel wonder hiding just beneath the surface of her sense, but I do not wish to linger on the feeling, so I ignore it. Her attention turns to the red sunset behind the building, and the emotions intensify faster than I can retreat. Sadness. Heartache. Anger. Hopelessness. I try to recoil from her despair as the potency of her confinement wraps around me with acute detail. My fists clench, unable to contain the wretched desperation coursing through me. I know this isn’t me. It’s her.

  I hesitate, knowing what I am about to do, but her pain is now mine, it has taken hold of me, I can’t just ignore it. I don’t want to. My wall plummets to the ground as I force myself to suffer through her emotions, guiding my ability deeper into her distress. My throat contracts as I try to hold back the tears collecting inside my eyes, and even though my instinct fights against my will, endeavoring to raise the wall and coercing me to stop, I don’t. Instead, I dive deeper, pouring the entirety of my being into her. The darkness inside her consumes me, piercing every inch of my mind, and I don’t fight it. I enfold it, taking it in as my own, and slowly pull it out.

  Thirteen turns around, bewildered. “What are you doing?” I can’t speak. Extracting her sense of pain and leaving every other sense intact, while maintaining control of my own emotions leaves me no room for interaction. Thirteen steps closer. “How are you doing this?”

  I can feel her sense slipping away, receding back into her mind, and I let it go, knowing it would be too difficult to hold as other emotions take over. My voice cracks as I make my confession. “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

  “Could you feel that?”

  “It’s the only way I can extract it.”

  “I didn’t know you could take it away, though.”

  “Pain is a sense, just like sight, or touch. You know I can extract senses, as much or as little as I want to.”

  Thirteen takes another step and whispers, “Don’t ever do that again.” I frown confused. “I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.”

  “How can you say that? Who would purposefully go through life feeling so wretched all the time?” I hadn’t meant to sound reproachful, but the words were out before I could stop them.

  “Emotions are part of my nature. They shape my character. They give meaning to my actions.” I am about to refute, but Thirteen reaches out to place her hand on my arm. “My pain is my own burden to carry. My own darkness to overcome.” I don’t agree with her, but I nod nonetheless. “Besides,” she adds, “it isn’t that bad. I just think you aren’t used to feeling anything.”

  I grunt, upset at her remark. “I feel plenty, believe me.”

  “Do you, now?”

  My chest contracts and expands in uneven breaths. “Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” I chastise myself as the uncontrolled shakiness seizes my entire body. I look at my fingers afraid of what I will see, but they look steady, unaffected by the rampant tempest raging through them.

  Thirteen regards me with a curious expression. “I suppose.”

  The wind picks up, blowing a strand of Thirteen’s hair across her forehead. I reach out before anyone can see and tuck it behind her ear. An unfamiliar feeling tugs at my stomach as I let my fingers caress her temple. It grasps my lungs, my bones, my heart. My thoughts shake out of control, feeling caged, restricted. The city itself has never felt so heavy around me.

  I can’t believe what I am about to do. Against Markram regulations I take Thirteen’s hand and dart down the street toward the transportation shuttles. “Come on. I know something we can do that will lift your mood.”

  The glass terminal doming over the transport shuttles comes into view, igniting a thrill of exhilaration. I guide Thirteen through the platform, stopping in front of one of the egg-shaped transports. The glass sphere lights up, hissing open as an invitation to come aboard. I step forward and beckon to Thirteen. She follows tentatively, then takes one of the seats on the circular bench. She is startled as the white bench sinks, accommodating her body and wrapping around the sides of her legs and torso. I watch as two security belts unfold across her chest, and smile at her bewilderment after the shuttle’s computer asks for directions.

  I clear my throat before speaking, knowing I have never used my native language in front of her. “Take us to the west gates, pointer one-eight-zero.”

  Thirteen’s eyes flash to mine. I feel her curiosity burning through me, and I realize I have completely forgotten to raise my wall after experiencing her pain. My lips tremble into a weak smile. I like it.

  We pass a shuttle to our right and Thirteen’s heartbeat accelerates. “We’re not going to crash, are we?”

  A rasping sound escapes my lungs, catching in my throat. I open my mouth to let it escape, amazed at myself. I don’t remember the last time I laughed. Thirteen laughs, too. The sound rings inside my ears, igniting my chest with a strange warming sensation. “There are three shuttle tracks, one for full speed, one for slowing down, and one for stopping. All shuttles travel at the same speed, only changing lanes when they need to slow down, and again to stop at their destination.”

  As if to confirm my statement, our transport moves one track over, lowering its speed significantly. We pass several transports in the resting lane before crossing over to a stop. The belts and bench release as the doors hiss open. I step out and motion for Thirteen to follow me. “This way.”

  I lead Thirteen through the darkening alleys, away from the main transportation hub and toward the city wall. The shadow of the white fortification enclosing the city conceals us and I feel Thirteen’s excitement at the sight of the west gates. The faceted glass gates sparkle in spite of the thickening fog. I pull Thirteen into the dark crevice of a building and prepare to relax my mind. My eyes close, enabling my ability to lower my mental barrier to everyone else around me. Like a breaking dam, every sense of every living thing in my immediate surroundings gushes into my mind, engulfing my thoughts and pouring the intensity of each feeling into my body. I concentrate on mapping the location of every source, grinning as the image takes form inside my head.

  I release all of the senses, including Thirteen’s, and raise my wall, leaving my mind completely devoid of emotion. The lack of sensations gradually cools my chest, creating a freezing void almost too vast to measure. “Let’s go.”

  I make my way toward the gate, using my mental map as a guide. Every sense I extract helps me deduce the physical location of every person in and around the gates. I don’t know what extrasensory abilities the guards have, but I don’t even have time to hesitate. Their location could change any second. I feel Thirteen’s fingers interlace with mine and her touch chips away at my wall, warming my chest and letting her in. Her worry becomes my own and I embrace it. Tightening my grip around her fingers I sprint forward, striding around the guards. I manage to dodge their glances and step through the lower doors unnoticed. The skittish lump in my throat recedes as I relax against the outside wall.

  Thirteen releases my fingers and begins to walk forward, baffled by the sight in front of her. I watch the lush outline of the forest enfold her silhouette, wrapping its shadowy fingers around her. The fog condenses even more, as if it were aware of our need for concealment. I push against the white wall and follow her into the night.

  Every crunching step beckons me closer, setting aflame my need to know everything she feels. I let her presence crush any barrier left in my mind and her senses dig deep into my core, folding inside me like feather-soft ribbons. The warmth beneath her senses wraps my mind, allowing me to feel the caress of the leaves under my fingertips as if I was the one touching the trees. The deep inhale of her lungs fills mine, tingling my nose with the cool mist of the h
aze surrounding us. I can feel a profound sadness coating her emotions, striving to find solace in something lost long ago.

  “Do you know where we are?” she asks.

  By now all human ruins have been absorbed into the outlines of new cities. Markram cities. Even if I knew the names of the human cities that existed here before our arrival, I doubt it would make any difference. “No.”

  Thirteen’s anger seizes me, burning through my chest and expanding outwards into my limbs. “Are there any rebel survivors left?” Her question surprises me, and though I open my mouth to answer, no sound comes out. She turns around, retracing her steps. “Well, are there?”

  The memory of the green piece of fabric resting undisturbed inside my pocket flashes through my mind, reminding me of my responsibilities as unit leader. I begin to pull away from Thirteen in spite of my own desire to remain connected to her, gripping each mental block and stacking it around my mind. Her warmth withdraws, numbed by the cold barrier growing taller inside of me.

  “Why?” I ask. Thirteen looks away, clenching her fists in annoyance at my evasiveness. I take her wrist and tug, hard enough to make her return her attention to me. “Is there anyone in particular you are interested in?”

  Her green eyes dart in my direction, flaring up in fury at my words. “You know something, don’t you?”

  “I don’t. But you do, so tell me, is there anyone in particular?

  Thirteen yanks out of my grip. “What kind of question is that?”

  “Answer me.”

  “What does it matter anyway, it’s not like I will ever see her again.”

  Her. My mind freezes. “Who?”

  Thirteen’s chin quivers. “My sister.”

  I swallow, feeling a lump of guilt and hopelessness travel down my throat. I have no doubt Eleven knows about this, he might even be searching for her at this very moment. “We should head back.”

  “What? We just got out.” She takes a few steps back. Her hesitation unsteadies me, and I know what she will do before it happens.

  I grunt, clenching my jaw in irritation as Thirteen sprints away. I let her senses seep through the crevices of my wall, knowing I wouldn’t be able to follow her otherwise. The heat of her emotions begins to melt my defenses and I scold myself for letting her take so much power away from me. Years of self-discipline wiped out in a few hours. I let my own anger chill over the warmth coming from her, growing colder and even more resentful, and helping me keep some sort of control over the crumbling barrier.

  I walk after Thirteen, surprised at her progress in spite of the darkness. Her senses lead me deeper into the forest, where every living creature muddles her distinct essence. I slow my pace and retreat most of my ability from her, discerning her distance and need for space. Not long afterwards though, I find her perched at the edge of a creek, her dark silhouette casting a shadow over the waterfall behind her.

  “Do you have a family?” she asks as I approach.

  I pause, letting my trained mind take over. “The army is my family.”

  “I meant do you have parents, siblings, that sort of family.” Thirteen looks up and the longing in her expression breaks through my charade.

  I let out a low groan, rebuking myself for yielding. “I am not sure.”

  “How can you not be sure?”

  A part of me wants to open to her and let her in again, but I fortify my mental barrier, isolating my emotions and retreating deeper into my core. I can’t allow her feelings to exacerbate my own pain. I swallow hard before answering. “I was drafted into the army at a young age.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight.”

  “You were eight years old?” Thirteen’s eyes search mine for any trace of emotion, but she finds none. “What, your parents didn’t like you so they sent you away?” There is a comical undertone to her question, but I don’t find it amusing.

  My tone echoes the voice of a soldier, flat, impassive, drowning and disappearing as soon as it comes out. “My family was incarcerated after the fall of our last emperor, before the parliament took over the right to rule. We were sent to labor at a working field in the outer sectors. A few months afterwards, drafters from the conscription division came looking for new recruits. My father convinced me to pick a fight with someone else so that I could prove my potential as a fighter. Entering the army was my only way out.”

  Thirteen’s silence permeates the air, increasing in intensity with every passing moment. I sit down at the edge of the creek, letting the water flow around my fingers. Feeling nothing. “Did your father know you would be training as a unit leader?” she finally asks.

  “Yes.”

  “And he still sent you?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, Seven.” I look up, meeting her gaze. “Did he not know your chances of survival were slim? You could die in any battle, at any time. Only one unit leader can win. One. How could he do that to you?”

  My fingers clench under the water, digging deep into the crevice of my palm. The severity of my own words surprises me, but I can’t restrain them. “What would you have done? Even if my chances are slim, at least I have one. I’ve fought my way this far. I am not about to give up.”

  Thirteen looks away, startled by my harsh reply. “The other person you picked a fight with, who was he?”

  I laugh bitterly. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” Eleven has enough power on me as it is, I won’t give him her sympathy too.

  Thirteen walks to me, sits by my side, and places her hand on my shoulder. I swallow, tensing my muscles in an attempt to remain unaffected by her touch. “I’m sorry.”

  Her gentle words find their way into me and I don’t have to lower my wall to know that she means them. The numbness inside me warms, but the coldness of my mind shoves it aside, crushing the delicate embers before they can take root.

  Thirteen stands up, unzips her jacket, and drops it beside me. I hold my breath as she takes off her boots, followed by her trousers. The gray underclothes frame her body, making me frown as I force my eyes to look away from her exposed skin. “What are you doing?”

  Thirteen giggles. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  I really don’t want to answer. I hear Thirteen giggle again, just as she steps into the water.

  I turn my attention to the blanket of leaves overcasting our surroundings, willfully trying to keep my eyes away from Thirteen. She splashes water in my direction, but I ignore her, keeping my focus inward. My eyes close, aiming to enjoy the cool breeze bathed in waterfall mist, just as something cold grasps my wrist. The instant I try to shake it off, it pulls me down and into the water.

  Like savage fingers, the cold water enfolds my skin in an inescapable embrace. I open my eyes to find Thirteen laughing amid the diffused light beneath the surface. The streaks of silver reflect on her red hair like flickering stars. I swim to meet her, stopping as her long, fiery locks brush my face. I watch as my own colorless hair intermingles with hers, and I can’t help thinking how precisely this simple sign represents us. Every notion, every belief, every idea as opposite as it can be. Like fire and ice.

  Hall of Monsters

  The flimsy cluster of scattered trailers and tents amid the grove of trees beckons me, and though I try to walk forward, I can’t seem to get any closer. Then, I see my sister. Her strawberry-blond hair blows in the wind as she waves for me to come closer. I sprint into a run only to move farther and farther away from her, no matter how hard I try.

  Water trickles onto my face, but there is no rain around me, only darkness. The sun left somehow. I trip and fall into a puddle, the muggy liquid seeping over my hands and knees begins to increase. I stand up and try to find an escape from the expanding current, but before long it has swept me up. It carries me along and now there are other bodies that pass me by. The undercurrent pulls me down, filling my lungs with iron-tasting liquid. My chest heaves and I gag at the taste of blood. I can feel myself screaming under the surface, trying t
o find a way out, but I can’t. I am trapped.

  My head resurfaces and I inhale deeply before the current can pull me back down. But there is no current anymore, only stillness. I open my eyes and find myself inside a glass box. My head hits the top and I know that no matter how much air I try to inhale, it will eventually run out, my lungs will burn, and I will open them, only to be overpowered by the crimson fluid that surrounds me. Still, instinct takes over. I breathe in my last inhale and plunge down. That’s when I see her, standing outside the glass box, watching me die.

  My eyes flash open. The rhythmic contractions of my heart feel like helicopter blades pumping blood through my veins. I know I'm awake now, but I still can't shake the lump that has taken permanent residence inside my throat. The memory of the dream still vibrates through my mind and I have to shut my eyes tight to prevent the tears from falling out. My thoughts linger on the image of my sister, peacefully watching me drown. I can’t think about her without my emotions caving in around me. I shove her memory back into the closet I’ve been keeping her in and sit up.