by Jason Letts
Only after they’d mentioned the name for a second time did Vern put together what was going on. He remembered Neeko, the pale boy untouched by the sun, from his confrontation with Mira in the marketplace. He led the students of Darmen Elite Academy, and they must be the ones standing in front of him now.
It struck Vern as very intelligent that they were arranging secret meetings about the goings on of the war. He started to wonder if his fellow shadows from Dustfalls Academy should be doing something similar. Questions struck him in rapid fire. How many meetings had this group already had? What information did they possess that might prove useful to him? Regardless, Vern made sure to keep his ears stuck on the conversation in case any valuable secrets changed hands.
“No one put me in charge,” answered the same serious voice. “But someone’s got to do something. We’re Darmen Elite, and we’re going to be making up a big chunk of the new forces. We can’t just take up space; we’ve got to have an impact. We need to lead by example. And this is the best way to do that: to know. If we understand what’s going on, we’ll be able to use that to our advantage.
“Here’s something you may not know that will prove how important it is for you to find out about the war effort. Darmen Elite sent about one hundred boys and girls to the war last year. Do you know how many are still alive? Thirty-seven. Do I have to tell you what that means for almost two out of three of us? I’d rather do as much as I can now to make sure I’m not about to celebrate my last birthday.
“I learned that statistic by snooping around the academy office. My mentor didn’t know I was there. The office workers have no clue I happened to see a few files. The only difference is I now know more about the steep odds we’re up against. I suggest you all figure out a way to pull together some scratch so our next meeting is more productive. Maybe if we get a good enough handle on it, we’ll finally start winning this war instead of hanging around while our friends die.”
No one else had anything to say after that, and they stood in an awkward silence. As Vern watched them, he started to feel dizzy from the blood rushing into his head. Checking to ensure they kept their backs to him, Vern slowly and silently lowered himself to the floor and huddled against the wall of the tunnel. He took a few deep breaths as he tried to remain as invisible as possible.
“So what are you going to do to help?” the apparent leader asked the crowd, speaking more calmly now that he had the support of his classmates. Small voices broke out in pockets before a few dared to speak up.
“We could try to find out where the supply shipments leave from.”
“I’ve heard about a guy in the neighborhood who was sent back because of an injury. I can try to find him.”
“Maybe even trying to write letters to last year’s students would help.”
“Finally! Now we’re getting somewhere. You’d think I was pulling teeth. Everyone needs to do something. If everyone comes back next time with a little scrap of information, we’ll finally be able to piece together what’s going on.”
Vern swiveled his head trying to see the one who spoke, but there were too many others in the way. He sensed the meeting had reached its final motions, and now an exit strategy became necessary. Concealing himself in the nook of the tunnel’s roof felt safer than running through the tunnel or sneaking away and having them catch up to him. Rising from his crouch just slightly, he began to walk up the wall toward the nook.
“OK, let’s leave the same way we arrived. I have only one last thing to say. Do better. I don’t want to imagine what it’ll mean if we don’t start seeing results.”
Hearing that they would be leaving any second, the urgency of hiding overtook Vern, and he hastily lunged his foot into the nook. Trusting it to hold his weight before it was set against the surface, his body fell against the ceiling as a result. He bumped his head against the rock, and the force holding him up vanished, dropping him to the ground.
“What was that?”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd, everyone turning to look. The light drew closer until Vern could see it shining directly on him. Awe-struck gasps and chatter, some of it angry, met his ears. Vern, feeling a little shaken and bruised from his fall, struggled to get to his feet.
“What are you doing here?”
Vern glanced up to see the guy who had run the meeting glowering in front of him. Though Vern considered himself fairly strong, and he spent a great deal of time training his body, the young man before him seemed to be made of pure muscle. His clothes fit strangely over the fleshy clumps. Even his face appeared to have an extra layer of muscle. His friends flanked him on both sides. They were all the same age and had the same insignia on their clothing, but none of them matched the size of the one questioning Vern.
“I…I just happened,” Vern stammered.
“Spying, now that’s a punishable offense!” the interrogator bellowed. He took a threatening step forward and clenched his fists. Angry glares settled on the faces of the onlookers.
“Now wait a second,” Vern protested, standing his ground. “I’m a shadow too and we’re all in this together. There’s no reason we can’t work something out and help each other. We’re each trying to achieve the same thing, to protect our homes and keep our heads on our necks.”
The young man stopped, pursed his lips, and seemed to consider this option. From his earlier statements, Vern guessed his desire for information might outweigh anything else.
“Oh, I’ve seen him before!” said a voice in the crowd, tipping the leader’s decision in Vern’s favor.
“OK, you want to help? Then let’s see if you can help. Tell us something we don’t already know and we might be a little more forgiving.”
As Vern listened, he realized he didn’t have any information about the actual war. Fortst had only taught them hand-to-hand fighting techniques back at the academy, and Corey had never alluded to anything more specific than that they were all facing grave danger. Even Westley left out any details about the war other than being glad he wasn’t there. Vern momentarily considered making something up, but the time he took to answer gave away his hand.
The muscles in front of Vern took another step forward. Vern started to back up, raising his hands and preparing to fight. A thick arm swung at Vern and swatted him against the wall. The leader kept his stride and continued down through the tunnel. The rest of the crowd followed him, and the lamp passed by as well.
“What a fool. Thought you could trick us?” someone laughed.
Soon the entire crowd disappeared around the corner, leaving Vern once again in complete and utter darkness. Vern didn’t try to follow them. He took a moment to settle himself and let the embarrassment fade. He had needed to use his new skill, but it failed him. He needed to practice more. Right side up, Vern walked through the tunnels and returned to the main cavern and its wooden stairways.
During his walk, his interest in what he had stumbled upon surpassed the punishment of his stumble. Entering Westley’s small hollow in the earth, he rushed right over to his sleeping mentor.
“Wake up! Wake up!”
Begrudgingly, Westley stirred from his sleep and gave Vern his attention. Although Vern wanted to get to sleep just as badly as Westley, he told him the entire story of the night’s events, including his unfortunate error.
“I get it now. I need to practice more,” said Vern, ending his tale.
“I’m glad that lesson didn’t come at a higher price. It’s not unheard of for shadows from different academies to quarrel. And that’s before things get ugly at Shadow Mountain. It does make for a good bed-time story though,” Westley yawned, still snug in bed with his pillows and blankets. Vern bit his lip and rested his temple on his fingertips. Halting his return to sleep, Westley gave Vern a second look.
“What is it?” Westley pried.
“How come we don’t know more about the war? Why is it such a big secret?”
Westley took on a thoughtful expression in the candlelight, making Vern a
nticipate the value of his forthcoming counsel.
“For you and the other shadows, the war is a new frontier. And you’re right. You should know more about it. But for everyone else, the war is a low, throbbing pain we’ve been living with for years, so giving the war it’s proper due would only serve to drive us all mad. When terrible things are at arm’s length, sometimes comfort can only come from turning a blind eye.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Vern consented.
He got up from the stool by the side of Westley’s bed, blew out the candle, and settled into his own bed. It had been a long night, and the time for sleep would be short, but happening upon Darmen Elite’s midnight meeting made him wonder about what other mischief people had set in motion around him.
Chapter 7: In the River
Fluffy white clouds drifted through the big blue sky. They didn’t hurry, wander, or complain about their leisurely pace. The winds herded them along in the same direction the clouds always go, and watching them made it difficult to think anything could be wrong with the world.
On a wooden porch, a mismatched pair sat back and reveled in the celestial show going on above. One gentleman of large stature took comfort in a rocking chair. His cowboy hat rested in his hand over the chair’s right arm. Next to him, seated on the floor, a young woman with black hair that curved around her face gazed out at the clouds as they rolled over the white towers of Darmen Topside. Her skin had tanned from being out in the sun, but she appeared more relaxed than ever before.
“How do you feel?” the rancher asked.
“I feel fine,” Aoi responded.
“Are you bored?”
“No, it’s nice being outside,” Aoi replied.
“Look over there,” the rancher pointed. “There’s a bridge over the riverbed. Why don’t you try to cross it?”
“Alright,” Aoi said.
Once she was ready, she rose to her feet, walked down the steps, and strolled out into the plain. A slight breeze made the tall grasses sway back and forth, and Aoi held out her hand to feel them brush against her fingertips. The bright sun made the air hot and humid, but those things didn’t seem to matter.
Winding around the bushes, the bleached riverbed came into view. She saw the bridge the rancher had referred to and slowly approached it.
“This wasn’t here yesterday,” she mused to herself.
Bending to give the thin and narrow walkway a closer inspection, she found it had no railings or supports. It had been thatched together from straw and appeared flimsy and weak. The bridge stretched all the way across the riverbed, perhaps ten feet over the bottom at the river’s deepest point. Except for the material used to make it, not much separated this bridge and a ladder laid flat.
“I don’t think it will hold me,” she called back to the rancher. He seemed to watch her no differently than he did the clouds.
“Might as well try,” she heard him say, though he hadn’t raised his voice much.
Glancing back at the straw bridge, she hesitantly rested her foot on the first step. Putting more pressure on it, she could already feel the thin strand of straw stretching to its breaking point under her foot. Aoi took another look at the sky and resigned herself to following through with the rancher’s task. If she were meant to fall through, that would be OK.
Placing her foot firmly on the first step, she expected to fall through, but she didn’t.
“Maybe this isn’t so weak after all.”
Progressing to the second step, she found it held her just the same. She had already passed the edge of the bank, and the riverside dipped down a few feet below her. It was going to hurt if she fell, but she would get up, brush herself off, and soon the pain would end.
Taking a few more steps, she had made it almost halfway and started to think she might actually make it across. She ignored the impulse to run for it, but the anticipation and the excitement made her heart speed up.
Taking her next step, her foot tore through the straw, and her body dropped right through the bridge. She tumbled into the brightness of the white sand and stone. Her feet and hands, which stung from smacking into the hard rock, saved her from a more painful crash. Aoi sighed. She got up, brushed her hands against her hips, and considered the hole in the middle of the bridge. Climbing over the bank, she walked back to the ranch house.
“I didn’t make it,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun so she could look up at the man on the porch.
“Is that all?” he asked.
“I got farther than I thought I would, but I fell as soon as I started to think I’d make it all the way.”
The rancher leaned back in his rocking chair and assumed a contemplative pose. He made a few “hmm” sounds and put his hand to his chin.
“Why don’t you go out to the bridge, do one hundred push-ups, and then try again?”
“OK,” Aoi consented. She returned to the bank near the bridge and put her hands to the ground. The push-ups were easy at first, gradually becoming more difficult, and finally a grueling agony. Finishing them, she turned her attention to the bridge for her second attempt.
The bridge now had a big hole in the middle, and she wondered if she would be able to step far enough to surpass it. The push-ups left her breathing heavily and her heart racing. Taking her first step onto the bridge, she didn’t even feel it when her foot snapped through the straw. It so threw off her balance that she fell forward, her stomach crashing through the second step and her head breaking the third.
She collapsed onto the sloping riverbank, scraping her leg and banging her shoulder. It took longer for her to get up, dust herself off, and take stock of her new scratches. The pain bothered her, but she knew it would be gone eventually. Once out of the riverbed, she again returned to the ranch house. When she got there, she gazed at the rancher without saying anything.
“That one didn’t go as well,” he observed.
“I know,” she said.
He motioned for her to come back onto the porch, and she did so, taking a seat against the post by the stairs. The clouds still swept across the sky, blotting out the beaming sun in places. Aoi released a deep breath.
“Is this about my gift?” she asked.
“Isn’t everything?” the rancher asked in return.
They sat in silence for a while, the rancher casually keeping an eye on his shadow.
“So the bridge is delicate, and I can’t make it across if I’m using my gift,” she observed.
“Who says you wouldn’t be using your power? Just because I call it “power” doesn’t mean it has to be strong.”
“What?” Aoi asked.
“Well, wasn’t your power there the first time you tried to cross? Seemed to work out a little better then.”
“I never thought about that,” she said. “I only notice it’s there when I’m doing things someone my size can’t normally do.”
“Aoi,” the rancher said, turning to her fully and peering into her eyes. “A straw bridge can’t hold your weight.”
“So what does that mean?” she asked.
“That’s a good question,” the rancher replied, settling back in his chair and taking a prolonged peek at the thick clouds. “There’s another bridge in the crawl space under the barn if you want to try again.”
Aoi hopped to her feet and leapt halfway down the stairs before she stopped, for no apparent reason, and started descending much more slowly. Inside the barn, a few cows and chickens whittled away their time. A depression in the land created a natural storage space on the side opposite the animals. Bending down and peeking in, two such straw bridges rested underneath. The rancher must have made these recently, she thought, but she couldn’t have guessed when. Surely he’d been planning this for a while. What was he trying to get at?
Seeing two of them, her first impulse claimed there would be no way she would need them both. She caught herself again and tried to dash away the need to boast or gloat. It wouldn’t make a difference if she went through one hund
red bridges.
She slowly grabbed hold of the straw and pulled the bridge out, sending spiders scurrying in all directions. Holding it over her head from the middle, the ends bobbed up and down as she carried it to the river. Taking one end as she dropped into the riverbed, she dragged the bridge into place as she came up the other side.
Once the bridge of brittle and loose straw was in place, Aoi prepared to make her third attempt. She cast one last glance to the rancher sitting on his porch, and she felt a tinge of nerves over what would happen. She stood still for a few minutes, taking deep breaths until she had calmed down, and then got her feet into position for the first step. Raising her foot, she could feel her heart rate pick up. Putting her foot back on the earthy ledge, she waited again until her heart came to rest. A renewed attempt brought the same excitement, only this time Aoi became frustrated and impatient. She stamped at the ground, creating a divot.
Groaning, she sat on the ground in front of the straw bridge stretching across the dried-up river. She knew it would be futile to step on it now when she would only crash through. In all of her life, she’d never come across a situation where the answer was to become weaker rather than stronger. It was difficult to accept that the old thrash and bash guidelines she had always lived by did not apply.
Allowing some time to pass, Aoi stopped dwelling on the unusual nature of this predicament. Her mind began to clear, and she let herself sit calmly and peacefully. She gave her heart a rest. Without making any special announcement to herself, she began to feel she could pass over the bridge in her peaceful state.
It had become dark by the time she opened her eyes. Unhindered by disappointment, Aoi bypassed the bridge and walked back to the ranch house. The rancher still sat in his rocking chair. Stars had replaced the clouds.
“I think that was your best try yet,” the rancher cheered.
“But I didn’t even touch the bridge,” she said, causing her mentor to lean back and raise his hands in a grand, sweeping gesture.