by Jason Letts
“There! Look at that. You might think me an artist,” the bookmaker smiled, straining to rise from his chair. Mira quickly returned and he sat back down. Though it had simple drawings, the map included much more information than she would need for her imminent journey. She could see the path she took to get to Darmen from Corey Outpost and the path she would take from Darmen out to Shadow Mountain in a few months. Other towns she’d never heard of dotted the map to the west too.
“This is more than I ever could have asked for. I would have been so lost without you. I wish I had some way to repay you. I could help you move some of these books into the new city,” she offered, but the old man just laughed.
“I’m not moving anything anywhere. I’ve spent my whole life here, and if the war rears its head near my front door then I’ll just go down with the ship.”
“Oh, OK. Well I hope that doesn’t happen. I guess I should be going then. Thank you again. You’ve been such a great help.”
Turning from the old man’s friendly smile, she slowly made for the exit, letting her fingers drift over the bookbindings. She pulled open the door and prepared to slip into the darkness with a sigh.
“You’re really going to go, aren’t you?” the old man called from behind her. “You’ll be stumbling out in the dark, tired and hungry. Come on back. You’ll start off tomorrow morning with a good night’s rest and a full stomach.”
“I don’t want to impose,” she protested, but the shop owner wouldn’t have any of it. Mira let go of the door, letting it swing back and snuggly catch the latch.
Chapter 4: Beginnings
Wind-blown grass tickled her ankles as she stood firmly on the hard earth. A weak light trickled over the mountains to the east, and hens pecked at the feed on the ground within their nearby cages. A rocking chair moved back and forth, its easy-going motion and rhythmic creak grating against her desire for action.
“I’m ready to start,” Aoi declared. Neither she nor the rancher had moved from the night before. She had been waiting for him to tell her what to do, and in the meantime she had counted his rocking up to a thousand, stared into his soul to urge him to act, and nervously ground her feet into the dirt.
She looked at the rancher, who made no reply and no acknowledgement that he had heard her. Grinding her teeth, her feelings of annoyance multiplied. Every moment represented another wasted opportunity to become stronger.
“Did you hear me? I said I’m ready to start!”
Realizing he had ignored her again, she yearned for all of the things she could be doing, push-ups, crunches, running around Darmen topside, climbing the walls of Darmen underground. Anything seemed better than what she was doing right now, and it frustrated her.
“Let’s go!” she commanded. The muscles in her face tightened into an angry snarl. His unacceptable behavior repulsed her, and she began to resent him for it.
“Tell me what to do! We need to start now!” she shouted, gesturing with her hands the importance of immediate action. The rancher remained impassive, rocking back and forth without a care in the world. Aoi put her hands on the ground and started doing push-ups. Peeking at him occasionally, he didn’t appear to notice her. It infuriated her and she exerted each push-up like a chance to push the rancher out of his stupid chair.
Convinced she would shatter the chair into pieces, she found she’d exhausted herself after several hundred push-ups and collapsed against the earth. About to shout again, Aoi instead turned her head to see what the rancher wanted to look at more than his own shadow.
Her friend Mira approached carrying a bag over her shoulder as she headed north. Glad she held her tongue, she still felt embarrassed for Mira to see her in such a listless state. Mira had been close enough to notice her rise from the push-ups, and she called out now that Aoi seemed to have a free moment.
“Looks like you’re working hard,” Mira said.
“Yeah,” she lied. Mira continued past the ranch, and Aoi watched her go. It pained her to have to wait for such a long time until Mira would not be able to hear her yelling at the top of her lungs, but she did it. Her rage at the lazy rancher bubbled inside of her and spilled over into a verbal explosion.
“You are killing me! Please, do your job before we waste any more time. This is completely ridiculous. Tell me what to do! Now! If I had known it was going to be like this, I wouldn’t have come here. Don’t think I won’t go and find somebody else. Anybody would be better than you. You are the worst! At least look at me when we’re having a conversation! Hello! I’m going to go, and you’re the one who’s missing out. Goodbye!”
Aoi grabbed her bag and slung it over her back. She stalked away, waiting for him to call her back. But he never did, and she made it all the way to the riverbed. Standing on the edge, the dry trench directly in front of her, she stopped, knowing she couldn’t really leave him.
She could run and climb and do physical training—that’s not why she needed his help. He needed to help her with the things she didn’t know, the things she couldn’t see or understand. Someone had to cultivate her gift, to expand it and stretch it beyond what it was. She couldn’t do that by herself. The surge from her thumping heart ripped through her and radiated outward through her skin.
Turning around, she dragged her bag back to the rancher’s front steps. She had so many important things to do, and she winced at how she couldn’t do any of them alone. Hiding her face, she didn’t want the rancher to see her cry.
“Please,” she begged, confused about why it was so difficult to get him to do something he said he would do. She stumbled forward and took a seat on the steps, leaning against the wooden railing. She felt so tired and worn. Still disturbed by the piercing loss of time, she took a deep breath and pulled herself together. Crawling up the stairs and flopping against the pillar at the top, she sat with her arms around her legs, facing the passive rancher. She kept breathing deeply, trying to calm herself, and she committed to waiting for him for as long as it took, even if she wasted the whole six months.
The rancher swung his body around to look at her, leaning his thick forearm on the rocking chair’s molded wood. He considered her as one would a flower, examining its delicate nature. Aoi glared back at him, feeling crushed, and saw him react to her change of heart. Giving up on the pressure she put on herself, she started to unscrunch her brow and relax her cheeks. A warm smile stretched across his lips.
“Now we can begin,” he said.
Keeping cloth wrapped around her head to ward off the sun, Mira trampled through the endless grassland. She held the bookmaker’s map in her hands, trying to confirm her direction before each step. Charting the sun as it sailed through the sky, she pushed north, summoning a fixed determination.
Without stopping, she had walked for most of the day since she had spoken to Aoi. It had been hours since she’d seen a building. Only crickets in the grass broke the silence. The scorching sun irritated her skin. The monotony of setting one foot in front of the other bored her, and she looked for distractions in the uniform landscape.
Night came, and the temperature plummeted. Mira stopped to make camp, anxious to rest her legs, but she couldn’t find wood for a fire or a stone to sit on. Resting on her bag, she nibbled some bread. Stopping reminded her how alone she was, and indeed she had never been alone for so long. The line on her map corresponded to no road, and no traveler had crossed her path.
It didn’t take her long to work up a thirst for company, and she recalled her recent memories making camp during the trip to Darmen. Thinking of Will reminded her of his Makara dice. She wondered what she would dare do if it meant spending more time with her friends. Even Roselyn’s song could bring her enough happiness to draw her away from her loneliness.
She remembered she had a little piece of Corey in her ear, and she tried talking out loud to him. Her worries snuck into her speech and soon possessed it entirely. So many awful possibilities presented themselves: going the wrong way, perhaps Flip Widget wouldn’t tak
e her in if she found him, maybe she wouldn’t be good enough, or she would be but she would still fail to accomplish her ultimate goal and help her imprisoned sister.
Soon she just shut her mouth to avoid talking herself into tears. The little stone offered no consolation or encouragement, no sound at all, and she began to worry that it didn’t work because she was too far away from home. Maybe it had never worked, and it was just a trick to make her feel better. Wasn’t it in her ear so she could listen?
A tear did come to her, and she looked at the stars and the web so she could feel it trickle down her face. As it rolled down her cheek, she remembered the bottle containing her mother’s tears. She slipped her hand into the little pocket and wrapped her fingers around the tough glass. Wouldn’t now be the perfect time to use it? This evening grew more nightmarish by the moment, so much so she feared a worse one could never come, but holding it comforted her enough, and she dug in and passed off to sleep.
A pinch woke her just before the sun rose the next morning, forcing her to snap open her eyes to find her body covered in ants. Shocked and alert, she leapt to her feet to shake them off. A searing pain in her neck suddenly punished her for the awkward sleeping position.
Ridding herself of the ants, she yelped seeing what they had left behind. Bite marks covered her legs and stomach. Anxious to leave the ants behind and run as far away as possible, she grabbed her bag, discovering too late that they had gotten into the food the old bookmaker had so kindly given her.
“My food wasn’t enough and so you came after me?” she chided the hungry devils swarming the ground.
Relocating a short distance away, she went about the miserable task of cleaning out her bag. Some food remained, though the ants had also enjoyed sampling the fabric of her clothing. She shook off each article to make sure she wouldn’t be carrying any stowaways. Skipping breakfast because she was sure to need it later on, she set off for the north with a drilling headache.
The mountains and the forest swept into view, but her restrained pace ensured she would not reach them any time soon. This prolonged her exposure to the sun, her misery compounded by the bag strap digging into her shoulder. The only thing keeping her going was the knowledge that returning wouldn’t do her any good.
As luck would have it, clouds rolled overhead just as she entered the forest. She walked gingerly around trees and bushes, trying not to jar her neck, though that became more difficult as she climbed up hills. At least being unable to twist her sore neck prevented her from losing track of her direction.
Mercifully, she discovered a small stream. The cool water brought her an indescribable pleasure, and in her head she convinced herself it saved her life. She massaged it into her neck and ran it over her spotted limbs. It seemed impossible to leave such a beautiful place and timely comfort. But darker clouds had swept in over the treetops, and rain drowned her peaceful moment. Where the cool water had soothed her before, now it chilled her. It invaded her space, dripping off the tree branches. Shivering and soaked, she grabbed her bag and continued on her way, hoping to escape this new form of torment.
Unable to access the map tucked deep into her bag to preserve it against the rain, she could only guess at her direction. Despite having spent so much time staring at the map that every inch found its way into her memory, the only marker she had to go by was a slight veer to the right around what could be either a cave or a black hole.
No such cave presented itself, however, and night fell on another grim day. The blackness above continued to spit down on her. Mira huddled against the thick, rough bark of a tree, wondering if it had ants on it and if she would get lost in these woods forever.
She again clutched the bottle in her pocket, praying for this punishment to end. But she didn’t use it, and soon the consciousness in her body gave out. Rain fell throughout the night, causing her to wake up many, many times. She tried to wrap herself in clothes to keep warm and use her bag as a shield to keep her dry.
When the darkness lifted, she could see a circle of rocks and charcoal chunks nearby where someone had made a camp. They must have thought this an ideal place, enchanting even, under different circumstances. Mira fantasized how nice it must have been for them while she finished off the last of her food. The prior day had revealed nothing to sustain her, and she feared today would bring much the same. As she set out, she wondered how long she could endure if she didn’t find anything to eat.
Mira’s neck felt better, and this enabled her to spot the mouth of a cave tucked into a hillside. She considered ducking in to see if anyone inhabited it or just to get out of the rain, but she recalled that this rightward bend would lead her to Dee Dee Grove in a matter of hours. Pressing on, she began to calculate in her weary mind the best way to beg for help.
The first building she saw appeared at the same time as the first thunderclap. She scampered over to it, taking a brief moment to survey the area before knocking on the door. Just a handful of structures made up Dee Dee Grove, most of them shacks scattered around a couple of brick and mortar dwellings.
Under the awning, she could feel the heat billowing from inside the squat house. The chance to get dry and rest her feet made her eyes grow large. Rapping her bare knuckles against the door, she tried to listen for movement between the waves of thunder. It popped open a crack, and an eye scanned her. The door opened a bit further, revealing the head of a ragged middle-aged woman. She cringed at what she saw.
“So sorry, M’am, but I’m in need of assistance,” Mira begged as politely as possible. Her words produced a bitter scowl on the woman’s face.
“What are you doing here?” she muttered.
Leaping into action, Mira sank her hand into the soggy bag, reaching for the map buried inside.
“I’m looking for a Dr. Widget, who lives in these parts,” she said, while removing the map from her bag and holding it out for the woman’s inspection. “And a moment of rest, if you could—”
“Map seems clear enough,” she spat, cutting her off and closing the door.
Surprised, Mira stared blankly at the door for a moment. Unable to believe she had been denied help intentionally, Mira again took her closed fist to the wooden exterior.
“Go ’way!” the woman hollered from inside. The dark sky shed cold raindrops on everything in sight. The light in another building suddenly went out. Checking the map for which direction she should turn, she returned it to the center of her bag.
Lugging the bulky sack over her shoulder with both hands, she set off to the west up a steep incline. Her wrinkled fingers struggled to keep hold of the bag’s drawstring as she clawed her way up through the bushes and the brush. Lightning flashed, and Mira counted the seconds until she heard the thunder to gauge how far away it was. Four seconds meant the lightning struck four miles away. Climbing to a higher elevation would put her in greater danger, but she had no choice—this was her path.
Reaching the top of the hill, well above Dee Dee Grove, plenty of tall trees still dotted the landscape as it curved around a precipice before meeting another hillside. Widget’s residence had to be in the vicinity. Her feet squished in her shoes as she shuffled down the slick stone.
The curve twisted into a spiral, and at the bottom a metal roof glimmered in the rainfall. Moved to tears to find her destination at hand, she raced between the trees and their rock-hugging roots. Despite losing her balance and slipping, the sight of the laboratory complex numbed her to the pain and drew her unwavering attention. Lights reflected off some strange mechanical implements erupting from the second story walls. The chimney sent a plume of smoke into the dark and rainy sky.
Like a drowned rat, she floated to the door. No sign or name appeared anywhere, but who other than the author of so many scientific gems could live in a place such as this? The bag slid off her shoulder and her hand rapped against the metal door. Though only a moment had passed, she again beat her fist against it. Even after she finished knocking, she kept her hand on the door’s smooth sur
face.
When it finally opened, and a figure shrouded in light appeared, a dreamy joyousness washed over her. Her knees felt weak and a giddy smile took to her face. She brushed soaked strands of hair aside and rubbed her eyes, anything to make sure this moment of pure ecstasy was real.
“Could you possibly be Dr. Flip Widget?” she stammered.
“Yes, I am.”
Her hands felt tingly and she wanted to leap in the air. The arduous and grueling journey didn’t wear on her anymore, and she felt a deep appreciation that her body had allowed her to revel in this moment without pain. Amidst her deluge of thoughts, she could see how this meeting would lead directly to the rescue of her sister. The man who had aided her parents when she was born would show her the way. Fate had come and now the rest of her destiny would fall in line.
“When my light is gone, all that remains is shadow. Does my hand find a likeness in yours?”
Straightening from a bow, she took in the doctor’s features and his reaction. Though a man of many years, he retained a feisty vigor despite his silvery-white hair. A thin frame of a height equal to Mira’s held up a tight lab coat covered in splotches of all colors and a pair of thick work pants. He wore bifocals, but proved himself alert and vigilant, seeming to absorb her every syllable. As she recited the incantation to become his shadow, a subtle awe and wonder struck his face. Something about her caught his attention, and his voice trembled with a hint of disbelief.
“I’ve never taken a shadow before, and I’m not about to start now.” But he didn’t close the door. He eyed her intensely as she formulated her next entreaty. She couldn’t take “no” for an answer. The lightheaded happiness refused to drop from her face.