by Adam Holt
“Tully will kiss Tabitha—nevemore!”
The black raven shook his feathers. “Nevermore! Nevermore!”
Tears, snot, crazy laughter. Nothing. Nothing. Ice. Dust. Nothing. Nevermore.
After a while the raven transformed into something else. He shape-shifted, like an Ascendant’s tattoos. Of all things, the raven became a cow.
It was that craziest of hallucinations that made me come to my senses...sort of. I stopped laughing and nevermoring. The cow hopped down from his perch and started licking me. A white cow with an Ascendant girl on its back looked at me with big, innocent eyes.
“Stop licking my face,” I said. “You aren’t even real.”
What was real? The Ascendant were real.
Ignore the face-licking cow. Think straight, Tully. Why didn’t you see the connection? Janice was on the right track. Stars, it was in their name all along! They ascended from the Earth.
And what about the “white bull”? There were real aliens here at some point. Aliens that abducted the Ascendant. Where does the Sacred fit into all of this?
All I know is that death is coming for me. The Lord Ascendant will make it a spectacle, like some Roman emperor teaching his subjects how to behave. “Remember what happened to Tully Harper. Don’t get out of line, children.”
Children.
The cow mooed once and then disappeared.
There are children in the Undercity. The Lord Ascendant will leave them there to die. There are children on Earth. The Lord Ascendant will make them slaves. There are fathers that want to help them.
I saw my dad then. His stern blue eyes with that strange red sparkle, stroking the red streak in his hair. My father. Maybe he was still free. Did that even matter anymore?
The ideas crept through my mind as I lay in the cold, black-lighted cell, hearing the buzz of two black staffs right outside my door. Finally, sleep overtook me.
Red, red, red, red, red.
I faded into a familiar dreamscape. It was a bright sunny day. The grass rustled, a stream trickled past a large oak tree. The purple tower loomed in the distance.
“Shhh,” a voice said, “save your strength.”
I knew the voice. It lived inside me now. A hand stroked my hair.
“I wanted to save her. I wanted to avenge you,” I told her.
“I don’t need an avenger, Tully. I need a son, and Tabitha needs your help. They all do.”
“I missed my chance, Mom. I’ve got nothing left to give.”
“Yes, you do have something left. I know you like I know myself.”
“I know myself, too. I’ve got nothing.”
“Nothing,” she said, stroking my hair. “That is what you keep saying, but what about the everything? That is the other side of things. The dark side of a planet means there is light on the other side. Everything can be summed up in one word. One small word can stand against all of your nothings.”
“What word?” I asked her. She smiled.
“Choose one,” she said, stroking my hair. “It is your word to choose, not mine.”
What word could stand up to nothing? There was no word in my mind with that much power. It was a riddle with no solution.
“You will find it in time,” she said.
“How much time do I have left?” I asked.
“No one knows this,” she said. “Each day has enough trouble of its own. I told you this before.”
“So did Dad,” I said. “Mom, I thought that I could save her. I—”
“—One word,” she said. “One word.”
She stroked my hair until the red haze turned purple.
IN THE CELL
When my senses finally returned, I could feel a presence in the room.
The hairs on my arms stood on end. Across from me sat the Lord Ascendant. He picked up my head in his hands.
“What now?” I asked.
“The Red Storm Arena,” he said. His voice rumbled like distant thunder off canyon walls. “A fitting end to Operation Close Encounter. Trackman is so pleased. He sacrificed much to see this day, Tully Harper.”
His face scrolled with ocean tattoos the same as mine.
“You are human,” I said.
“We are many things,” he said. “We left so many centuries ago. Our history is written into your mythology. Search and you will find us. Europa is only one name.”
“Atlantis?” I asked.
“Yes, Atlantis. They called us this most of all. The Nameless Ones destroyed our beautiful island to hide our leaving. That had some strange side effects. It made us into a myth while they became a rumor. Now I use these myths to inspire our people. I use the rumors to instill fear in yours.”
“Propaganda,” I said. “Twisting the truth.”
“It works. It is better to be aliens. Aliens inspire fear. Fear gives me power.”
“You already have power,” I said. “Why can’t you return to the Earth in peace?”
“Earthers would never allow this,” he laughed. “Imagine it. One hundred million refugees return from the stars. Would any government open its borders? Where would we live? Would the United States let us in?”
“No, maybe not, but—”
“There is only ‘no.’ They would not. They would not sacrifice enough to help. If we do not take what we want, it will not be given. Human nature, Tully. We are a greedy race.”
“But we can be generous, too. Maybe you could come one group at a time –”
“We will not beg for what we deserve! The Nameless Ones chose us because we were the best among humanity. And we still are.”
His gloved hands glowed purple. The hair on my arms stood up. Then he walked to a round window at the end of the cell.
“Tabitha accepted these things.”
“That means nothing to me anymore,” I said.
“Clearly, and that is why you must be crushed. Now my people will understand that I am their hope – not you, not the Encountered. Those scribblers of wings upon the walls. They filled your head with ideas of peace and love. They are the last of that polluted blood. I will clip their wings in time. Who knows? Maybe today. Until then – guards, prepare him.”
INSIDE THE RED STORM ARENA
“Ascendant! In a few weeks we will arrive upon the Earth. We will reclaim what is ours, but today our great conquest begins. Before you stands Tully Harper. He is accused of treason against the Lord Ascendant and murder of Commander Akakios. He should die for these things, but since we believe in the rule of law, Tully will receive justice. Trial by combat.”
I was in the Red Storm Arena kneeling before 250,000 Ascendant. It took two parades to get there.
First they brought me out of the purple tower. Guards encased my hands in heavy iron. Then they chained me to the Lord Ascendant’s chariot. No hands, no powers. No power, no portals. No portals, no escape. We took the long street toward the newel. On either side were all of the Lord Ascendant’s men. A war cry erupted, angry and triumphant. Countless black staffs jeered at me on the way. They shot purple sparks toward the dome above Rathmore. “You will not see the end of Tully Harper,” he told them. “You will be in the Undercity preparing to leave, but you will hear about it soon enough.”
They’re ready to leave. Nothing can stop them. How much time, Mother? I still don’t have my word.
We made for the newel—me, the Lord Ascendant, and one hundred black staffs. Inside, the only light came from the black staffs, buzzing like angry hornets. We descended from the Seventh to the Fifth Step.
What’s my one word, Mom? Will you whisper it in my ear? I’m alone in the dark and my enemies outnumber me.
The elevator lurched to a halt. The great door to the Fifth Step opened like a curtain on a stage. The second parade began.
The Lord Ascendant floated forward into the light with me behind him. He led me toward the arena. Hundred of thousands of Ascendant lined the wide boulevard. Balloons floated into the air. Purple sparks rained down upon the marble street. The crowd
roared its approval. Days before I stood amid these people thinking they were aliens, watching their evil leader throw a boy into the dust. He would throw down another boy today.
Where is hope in the face of so many enemies? Where is hope when you stumble along in chains? When your plans crumble like sand castles? When your friends are nowhere to be seen and your enemy is spitting in your face? I scanned the street, looking for hope, for a glimmer of light.
My mom’s voice came to me finally. It’s close now. It’s in your heart. Hold on to it. Hold on. Find your strength. Hold on.
To what? I can’t hold anything with my hands in irons, Mom. I can’t hold anything anymore.
We arrived at the arena. The black staffs split into two groups and bounded ahead. They bounded up the arena stairs ten steps at a time and found places around the top level. A purple ring of death.
The Lord Ascendant looked back at me with his tattoos swirling, and he smiled for the first time. We walked under the Ascendant banner. Written in Greek, I knew what it said: We always rise.
The inside of the arena looked much different than before. No longer was there a stage for the Lord Ascendant’s speech. Just a dirt floor. He lifted his arms.
The noise. The Ascendant cheered the Lord Ascendant and booed me. There was violence and fear in their voices and faces. I noticed that they were all Firsters, from the bottom to the top row. All the other Steps have boarded the ships. I looked around at their faces. This all feels so familiar. And then he caught my eye.
A young boy in the front row. He was older than the last time I had seen him—on board the Mini-Mane, in our training sessions. A virtual version of this boy once jeered at me: now he did so in real life, shaking his clenched fists beside his Ascendant father. They had nothing but hatred for me, and I for them—hatred for their twisted society, the Lord Ascendant, my situation, and especially this little boy who was now hoping to see me die. I could taste iron in my mouth. I realized that I was grinding my teeth, but I looked at the small boy’s face and felt something shake inside me. The poison in my veins finally ran its course. I felt warm again suddenly. I wanted to turn away but I kept my eyes fixed on the Firster boy, and the child changed me.
Do not give in to hate. Fight them, but do not hate. It was a command that came from deep down in my soul, one that made me breathe again. I threw the hair out of my eyes and watched him, shouting beside his dad, who was smiling at his son for raging at me like they were at a baseball game singing some twisted national anthem. He has been trained to think this way, Tully. Don’t hate him. He is a Firster. He spends his whole life bowing to everyone else. No one has shown him any love or mercy. You have to hope that he can change.
Yes, that was it.
Hope. Mother, now I know my word.
The Lord Ascendant stopped his chariot. He reached down and, with a gloved hand, crushed the metal chain that held me to the chariot. Then he kicked me in the chest and sent me flying through the air and into the arena dust. It didn’t hurt that bad, but in low gravity, it must have looked impressive. The Firsters erupted. Tattoos scrawled across the Lord Ascendant’s cruel, brilliant face as he circled me in his chariot. Then he made his way toward his viewing box on the far side, and in his box sat Tabitha. Tabitha the spokesperson for the Ascendant. Tabitha the changed.
Hope. Hope does not fail, Mom. I know it. It doesn’t mean that I will win, but that doesn’t matter. I will fight. I will not hate. That is all I am asked to do.
Trackman was giving a speech: “…he is guilty, but since we believe in the rule of law…”
I picked one new word out of Trackman’s speech.
Goliath.
I was alone in the arena to face the crowd, but I wasn’t alone for long. I could sense another presence before I saw him, like a hover-truck that was about to sideswipe you at a red light. The hovertruck was a man, and he stood at the far end of the arena, all eight feet of him.
He wielded a black staff that was twice my height and buzzing like a thousand bees. It didn’t look like your “standard issue” black staff, glowing brighter and more intensely than smaller versions, with several extra buttons. I could hear it from the other side of the arena. He shouted something in Greek and gestured toward me. Who knows what he said? “Prepare to meet your doom, Tully.” “Hey, everybody, you want to see me crush this fly with my bare hands?”
The Lord Ascendant had broken my chains, but my hands were encased in a block of iron. They were useless. Can I just jump out of the arena? Uh, no. There are one hundred black staffs along the parapet. Any one of them could grab, stun, or incinerate me. Jumping isn’t the answer, not by a long shot. It won’t work against even one Ascendant. Without my powers, I’m just target practice for black staffs.
He began a slow walk toward me with just a few steps, and then built up to a slow jog. I wouldn’t have much time to react.
Reaction. That’s it! The one Sacred Power that might still work. I could not jump, but I could dodge. It had worked with Sawyer on the Adversity. It might work here.
I closed my eyes and focused. Speed, speed. Know when to go, I thought to myself. Over the din of the crowd, I heard nothing but felt his heavy footsteps beat a cadence on the dusty arena floor. Thud, thud, thud. THUD. I could picture him now. He wasn’t running anymore but flying through the air toward me, bearing down on me, four hundred pounds of black staff-swinging muscle and mayhem.
Wait, hold, wait, then roll.
I kept my eyes closed until the buzz in my ears grew to a deafening roar that I could hear over the crowd, until his war cry filled my ears.
And then I rolled. I opened my eyes.
Goliath’s staff crashed into the dust and, in its place, a crater. The electricity from the blast knocked me toward the wall. The crowd let out an “Ooooh!” They expected Tully jelly, but got the Tully roll instead.
Hope.
Goliath did one of those veins-exploding-in-your-neck roars and let loose a series of incinerator blasts in my direction. Anger screwed up his aim. The purple fireballs whooshed past me. Instead of jumping, I stayed low and ducked them, then scrambled out of the way of more blasts. Behind me the Firsters dove for cover as the fireballs went smoking into their vacated seats. This was a dangerous spectator sport. You didn’t have to be trapped in the arena with Goliath to lose your life or at least your eyebrows.
After several blasts he screamed in English at me, “Enough dive. No more crawl. Stand and like a warrior be fighting!”
“Untie my hands then.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll stand and fight. No more dive. Uh, is that a no?”
As an answer, Goliath an extra button on his staff, and the weapon emitted a low buzz. He pointed one end toward me and spun the staff in slow circles. A purple cone appeared around its glowing head, expanding a few inches at a time. The crowd grew silent. Behind Goliath, the young boy from the virtual room moved to the edge of his seat. Behind me, people seemed to be shuffling in their seats, too. He swirled the staff in larger circles, and the cone grew large enough to swallow me. Or a school bus for that matter.
My feet slid forward, my hair ruffled in the wind. The cone drew me toward itself. I turned to run as the Ascendant spectators in the stands behind me scattered. Uh, this is really bad. Death bad. Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz bad.
Goliath was a lion playing with his food. The crowd burst into cheers as they saw my doom unfolding. The cone was twenty feet tall, popping with electricity. I lost my footing and slid toward him in the dirt. Goliath shouted in triumph, but it’s not polite to play with food.
My hands heated up as I slid backwards. The metal softened with the heat, but it would not melt before Goliath electrocuted me in his purple torrent. I had to break that spell. There was really only one thing to do.
I looked over my shoulder and waited until Goliath turned his head to admire the crowd admiring him. When he did, I let go of the ground and dove headfirst into the center of his electric tornado. It was like diving into an electric
socket: my skin pricked with pain and muscles spasmed, but I knew that would happen. The electricity melted my bonds the rest of the way, and my hands did the rest. Goliath dropped the staff as it melted in my hands. My shackles dripped into a puddle in the sandy arena. I was free.
Free and momentarily fried. I felt like someone had just defibrillated my heart—well, someone had. Goliath gathered himself before I did. He leapt toward me, enraged that his victory would not be picture perfect. He reared back, intending to light me up with a devastating punch, but I shook my own dizziness just in time.
I blasted him with a red fireball that threw him toward the edge of the arena. Before he hit the edge, I opened a portal behind him and another one in front of him. He fell into one portal and popped up in the other one, then fell back through the first. It was a perfect loop: Goliath falling through one portal and into the next in sequence, screaming in anger and confusion. The crowd didn’t know what to make of it, watching their greatest warrior squirming, trying to stop himself from an embarrassing defeat at the hands of shrimp man.
The Lord Ascendant’s expression didn’t change much—maybe went from sneer of triumph to sneer of anger. Trackman ended the comedy though.
“Enough!” yelled Trackman, pointing toward me. One hundred black staffs aimed at me but did not shoot. In response, I drew a portal on the arena floor and pictured somewhere safe outside the arena to land.
The Lord Ascendant held up his hand. Tabitha remained violently still at his side. Then he leaned forward, speaking to me from his golden throne at the far end of the Red Storm Arena.
“You’ve come halfway across the solar system to find this girl, and now you’re going to abandon her again? See, dear Ascendant, the Earthers have no honor. They try to win with tricks and give up when their honor is on the line. Go ahead, boy. Jump in that portal. Run back home and tell the Earth how you tricked our great champion and could not save your friend. And, by all means, tell them that we are coming for them all.”
I stood my ground and looked around the stands at the angry, frightened spectators. I had nothing to say to the Lord Ascendant, but something for them.