by CJ East
Kinch contorted into a painful cough holding his side. He gasped and doubled over. He opened the portal of his mind as he fell to the ground. He fought for breath in raspy wheezes, staring into the close detail of the bloody weeds. A thick black mist bled through the clay and roots toward him. The inky fog enveloped and choked his last breath as he lost consciousness.
Possession
Kinch awoke to a flickering light and arguing voices in his head. He blinked away the dullness of sleep to find himself on a large bed of fine sheets. His hand flew to his face. It was healed all the way to the crown of his head without scars. He slid between the sheets as he turned. He was naked and bathed.
Pythia hissed an urgent warning. “Be sharp, Young King. A guardian waits to interrogate you. He will destroy us if he discovers what you have done.”
Kinch searched the dark room. It was expansive with opulent furnishings. He caught the movement of a person rising from a chair. The silhouette of a man walked to the wall where a gloomy light broke through the spreading drapes. He pushed them aside, filling the room with stinging light.
Kinch covered his eyes. The light came from a large balcony overlooking the city. The human form standing before it had a haloed tracing depicting the frame of an older man in a white toga.
The form spoke. “Salve frater!” A man’s greeting, foreign to the dialect of Middle Mars. His salute of ‘Hello brother’ had the accent of his Grandfather and his priest.
The man continued in High Latin. “Peace be with you. Do you thirst?”
Kinch’s eyes were dry and his tongue cleaved to his palate. “Yes, please. What is this place? How did I get here?”
The man moved from the open balcony to a long table with a relaxed and purposeful gate. The glare softened to show an old man with faded, golden skin pouring water from a pitcher into a large goblet.
“You are in the royal palace of the Coccino, soon to be reclaimed. You lie in the bed chamber where a hundred Coccino kings have slept.” A kind expression filled the man’s thin face as he offered the cup with an outstretched arm.
There was an uncommon strength in the man’s face. His full, black eyes were piercing, his confident chin set under his white beard. The old man’s brows arched with some hidden knowledge. It could be mistaken for arrogance, but there was no trace of self-importance. Kinch took the cup without breaking eye contact as each studied the other.
The man took a respectful step back and bowed his head. “My name is Marcus. I found you on the battlefield and brought you to these lodgings. How do you feel son.”
“I feel well enough, I suppose. You’re Auri, what are you doing in a dead Coccino city?”
Marcus smiled to the floor and spoke in a soft laugh. “He asks what I am doing here.”
Kinch turned in a slow scan of the room for others. Marcus strode toward the balcony and paused with his arms akimbo. He mused to himself a moment then turned to Kinch with a jovial intensity.
“I am here to speak to a unique child. A boy who crossed the blue threshold, defeats the Damned in field combat, vanquishes Drakon the Destroyer of Cities to become king, kills two more dragons, and then heels himself of mortal wounds within hours.”
Convinced there were no others in the room, Kinch answered. “You seem to be well informed for a man who talks to himself in a dead city.”
Marcus held his gaze on Kinch. His voice became stern. “Let us speak plainly. You, have done more in one day than armies have done in centuries. You also assumed a mantle of prophet which carries a more complex and powerful momentum.”
Kinch flushed and angry red. “That title was thrust upon me. I’ve never claimed to be more than what I am.”
“Regardless how the equation was derived, the result is.” The man pause and let the self-evident statement drift in the air. “The faith of the Coccino tribe has caused them to forgo the safety of Arx for the unfortified city of their ancestors. Women and children seeking the deliverance of the Red Right Hand of God.”
Kinch swung his legs over the edge of the bed and gathered the sheets around him. He knew military men like Marcus. Thinking men who came to conclusions based on evidence - firm, unyielding conclusions. “Slow down Marcus, I see where you are steering this. This isn’t intentional. I don’t want to be king and sure don’t want to be exalted as a religious champion. I don’t even know what The Way is, nor am I qualified to be a hand of any god.”
Marcus stroked his beard. The boy’s muscular shoulders sagged under the weight of his truth. Compassion turned the old man toward Kinch in a shuffled step. “What is it you want, son?”
A hurt rolled up from deep in his stomach. Kinch took a deep breath holding the wave of emotion in his chest. It burned in loneliness and fear. His head dropped to his chest and with an almost inaudible whimper he declared his weakness. “I just want to go home.”
Marcus nodded with an interested silence. He pulled a small dressing bench and sat next to the bed. “Is this possible for you?”
“No.”
Marcus made a sign of resignation with his palms yielding upward. “I am sorry for the loss you feel. It would appear you tread a path not of your own choosing.” He paused in thought. “To fully embrace a new life, one must first release the former.”
Kinch raised his eyes to meet Marcus. The old man nodded with a smile. “Life is full of new beginnings. For a young man so full of life, much awaits you. Do not dwell on the past which enslaves you.”
Kinch weighed the advice with a silent nod. He examined the man again. “Who are you, Marcus?”
Marcus crossed his arms with a piercing smile. “Yes, you are a smart boy. Your new path will be very bright indeed. I am a guardian, a steward of the life in the Small Dome of Middle Mars.”
“Steward? You control the Small Dome? You can make this right?”
“No, Kinch. We do not intervene in the lives of men. We maintain balance and protect life.”
An indignant tone raised in the boy’s voice. “Like the life of the Aug soldier who died in my arms? Or the father who begged for his life as he lay dying on the battlefield?”
Marcus set a hard expression upon the boy. “You conveniently forget to mention the hundreds of Damned slaughtered by your anger. The thousands of souls forever marked by the loss of a father, husband, son or brother. Yes, the sword has two edges, boy. You may judge us, yet I can measure you by the same standard.”
“Me? You put this on me? When you have the power to stop this?”
“I remind you to not condemn that which you do not understand.”
Kinch clamped his jaw tight and whispered through his teeth. “People keep telling me I don’t understand. How about you let me in on the secret, Guardian.”
A curious expression filled the face of the old man as he inspected the boy. “Yes, of course you deserve answers. Middle Mars is a closed system preserving the surface life of Mars. We maintain a haven in the extensive caves between the surface and the contracted planet core. We provide the artificial light which is the beginning of the process for sustaining all life. The growth of plants, respiration, precipitation, and so on.”
“A terrarium.” Kinch’s eyes grew wide in amazement. “Do the others know?”
“Some who have access to the old knowledge in ancient books. The dragons know and control access to this knowledge. We found through many failed cycles inhabitants with high technology possessed low empathy. This was not a problem in itself, but they were able to endanger themselves and all life in the domes.”
Kinch swelled with resentment. “So you killed them off and keep the population ignorant.” The judgment was less of a question than a statement.
“The population is self-policing with regard to ignorance. We have salvaged what previous generations destroyed. But your point is valid, we discourage the use of technology.”
“But not war.”
“Young man, I speak to you as a man because your words appear to grasp an understanding. In its most positi
ve light, war is a natural and blind mechanism for balancing over-population and resource scarcity. The alternative is the caustic results of starvation and plague. In its worst manifestation, war stems from greed, covetousness, and pride with exploitive ends. How would you prescribe we strip away these mortal failings from the souls of men? Perhaps you have done this in your world?”
Kinch cast his eyes to the ground in silence.
“We have preserved the flame of life in spite of man’s intentional desire to extinguish it. All threats to this balance are addressed to preserve life.”
Kinch shot to meet the examining glare of Marcus. “And I’m a threat to the balance?”
Marcus stood and faced the balcony. He clasped his hands behind his back. “A man who has lost his way has the elevated potential to bring harm to himself and others. A boy with your… abilities, outside knowledge and mandate as prophet and king could be extremely disrupting to the balance. Then compound this volatility with the additional strength and corruptive influence of the demon you have taken into your soul. Now we have a situation which must be addressed.”
Elatus bellowed a thunderous inner voice. “Strike him now whilst his back is turned!”
Pythia interrupted. “No! A guardian does not live, nor can he die. Deny it Kinch. He would take our powers away from you. You cannot survive without our powers.”
Kinch cleared his throat. “What you are talking about? The dragons I killed?”
Marcus turned with an amused expression. “Their physical forms are dragons, yes. Their immortal souls are demonic and eternal. They desire to claim the souls of men, to blot out the light and reign in darkness. With your Terra knowledge, your demonstrated strength and a possession, you have a destructive potential. A potential many fold the acceptable risk.”
Pythia spoke again. “Do not confess, deny it.”
Kinch searched in vain for his jumpsuit. “I don’t believe in demons.”
“Then how did you heal your mortal wounds in less than an hour’s time with no scars?”
Pythia spoke with rapid words. “Tell him it was Amica with the white mist.”
“Amica must have healed me as she did before. I was dead in Arx and she resuscitated me. The white mist that surrounded me, it has given me strength.”
The old man’s face grew cold and his eyes turned hard. “It is true the white mist has given you strength and Amica was a channel through which the Outside Actor moved. But He did not heal you this day. You willingly offered yourself to the darkness in exchange for the lengthening of your days. This is acceptable for indigenous creatures, but not you. The risk to others is unacceptable.”
Elatus shouted to Kinch. “Attack him now. He would kill us all!”
Pythia whispered poison. “I hold the gift of teleportation. I can give you what you desire most. I can take you back to your people. Give the guardian Elatus.”
Discord exploded in his mind as the two dragons turned upon the other. His chest pounded with the stress and the offer to return to the colony. He turned away from Marcus, an excruciating war raging in his mind.
“It is as you have said. The dragon told me more would come, he said they would kill everyone.”
“Demons sprinkle the truth with lies. Now speak its name. For names hold much power here.”
A tightening formed in his throat. Remorse, shame and fear gripped him as he heard the infuriated roar of Elatus. The turmoil inside his mind was maddening. He trembled to the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees. He squeezed his temples with both hands and uttered the name. “Elatus!”
“Oath breaker! You betrayed me! A curse upon you and the she-demon who has beguiled you! Your life is mine!”
Marcus continued in a shout. “Call upon the name and the power of Jesus the Christ to cast Elatus out.”
At the name of God, Kinch fell to his hands and knees on the floor. The room swirled in all directions. The sheets fell away from him exposing his nakedness. He raised his head, his face dazed and white with disbelief.
Marcus leaned over him with urgency. “Now, before he destroys you. Call upon the power of the Christ!”
Kinch began to weep, mouth open, unable to process - paralyzed.
A malicious roar filled his mind. “Oath breaker, this breath will be your last. I shall send us all to Hell!”
Kinch slammed his head to the floor in surrender and shouted. “Elatus! In the name of Jesus Christ I cast you out!”
Homecoming
When Kinch awoke, he was back in the royal bed and covered. He did not move, but searched the room with weary ears and eyes.
Pythia answered his unspoken question. “He is gone.”
Kinch sprang to his feet, ransacking the room for his jumpsuit. “You need to get me back to the Colony.”
“The gift will only return me to places I am familiar with. I have never been to your Colony. You must lead us.”
“Me? Drive?”
“Yes. The guardian lingered near the balcony before he went silent. I believe he was watching you sleep.”
He jogged to the balcony finding a folded green jumpsuit on the floor. It had either been cleaned or it was an exact replica. He slipped into the suit. “Let’s do this.”
Pythia began her lesson with stern direction. “Examine the place where you stand. Feel the connection - the stone floor supporting your weight. The gravity pulling you down. The air pushing in on your chest. It is important to be intimate with the place to which you teleport. Return now to the bedside.”
“I’m going to teleport 20 feet?”
“Longer distances are more difficult. If you do not complete the journey, there is no second chance. Do as I say.”
“Let’s just get to the Colony. Marcus may be watching.”
Pythia’s voice raised to a hiss. “Stop speaking. Every word leaking from your mouth proves your ignorance. If you misjudge your position by a small distance, your ankles will be fused into the stone floor or your shoulder in the door jam. No more stupidity from you! Keep silent and allow me believe you will not kill us with your bumbling.”
His ears burned with rage, but he said nothing.
She continued her condescending tone. “Concentrate on the exact place which you were standing a moment ago. Close your eyes and it should appear. The power is the act of reaching out. I will start it, but you will need to reach out with your power. Try it now!”
Kinch felt a stretching from his chest to the remembered image of the balcony before him. It was as if the stretch pulled his body into a golden pliable form. He pushed his body forward to the location of the gray memory.
She voice lowered to a whisper. “Now the secret. You see the place in your mind. Reach up and scrape down the memory. It is but a cover, a picture. Tear the gray image away and see the reality behind it.”
Kinch reached with elastic arms and tore the thin layer of gray memory away. Behind it was the vibrant balcony. It was a jagged rip in the darkness of his mind, as colorful and real as if his eyes were open.
“Go through the rip.”
He obeyed. He heard two quick pops like bubbles collapsing. His vision was dark again. He opened his eyes and he stood on the balcony overlooking the Wilds. A satisfied smirk curled on his face.
She admonished him. “Do not be overconfident, youngling. Distance will burden your travel.”
He focused on the most familiar place in the colony - his room. The point he was the most observant was the inside the door. The memory recalled to his mind. He stretched forward discovering the resistance much greater. The pressure pushing in on his side, legs and head.
He had no physical body. His arms glowed a golden light as he fought a slow motion wind. The current bent his head, legs and arms behind him, changing his golden essence into a glowing comet.
Pythia’s strained voice rang through his consciousness. “Focus! You are slowing down. You will trap us both if you do not keep the momentum!”
He focused on the smoky memory of his
colony cell, using his sniper training to select the smallest detail. The picture on the table next to the bed. His added energy propelled them forward. His form collapsed into a thin golden strand stretching forward. Until it touched the gray memory of room.
“Rip it! Rip it quickly! I have no more strength!” She hissed.
Kinch ripped away the veneer of the memory exposing the vibrant color of his lit room. A male colonist had his back to them.
“Bogey sighted. We’re coming in hot.”
“What? I don’t…” Pythia’s energy drained from the push as a gentle pop echoed through the cell.
Kinch fell to his knees on the familiar hexagon craved floor. He struggled to a defensive stance. His feet apart, right fist ready to respond, he searched the blurring room for the figure. Images began to sharpen and define when he saw movement.
Venkat sat horrified on the table, pushed against the wall. His eyes were white and wide as dinner plates. His mouth grimaced in the form of sheer terror.
Kinch flicked his eyes to scan the room. He lowered his head in relief. “There are consequences for stealing from a man’s cell.”
Venkat’s mouth dropped open trying to form words. “You? You are dead.”
Kinch relaxed his stance wide open with his arms apart. “Venkat, it gives me unsurpassed pleasure to declare you have never been so wrong.”
Venkat’s mind portal flashed like a flaming Hindu bindi dancing on his forehead. Had Venkat done something to make his portal more vibrant? He stared at Venkat’s portal. No, his powers had grown since he was last at the colony. Kinch could enter through any mind portal like an unlocked door.
The frightened boy dropped a leg to the ground. He shifted from the table to embrace Kinch then halted. “I saw the rover from the surveillance drone. I want so much for this to be true, but it is not possible.”
“So you would interrogate your imagination rather than welcome it?” His arms were wide apart. He motioned him inward with a nod and his fingertips. “C’mon, bring it in.”