She saw something, though she tried to pretend that she hadn’t. The ghostly figure of Surru, running toward her. He’d overused the medallion, and its battery was dying, which gave her a slight advantage, if only she could pretend not to have seen him.
She tried not to focus her eyes too directly onto him, and fired another arrow at his direction. He leapt out of the way, and Barbara aimed again sporadically, knowing she could not have hit him if she tried, but also missing on purpose to make a show of it.
���Say something, you coward,��� Barbara said, letting her eyes trail around aimlessly.
But Surru would not speak. And he ran at here again, with his sword at the ready.
Reaching behind, to grab from her quiver, there arose a sinking dread in the depths of her stomach; One arrow, only one, and she had to make it count. Though a single arrow in that world would hardly kill anyone. And so she waited until she thought she could not possibly miss. Her heart beat chaotically, and she fired when he was only a few feet away. But with their now superhuman reflexes, Surru moved like lightning, and the arrow which was aimed for the King’s heart only grazed his shoulder. And while he dodged away, he sliced at her leg with his sword.
���AHH!��� Barbara screamed, her pain echoing through the once-glorious palace.
She collapsed on the ground, in the center of the column of light that poured through the ceiling.
���Why kill us, Surru?!��� Barbara shouted. ���We couldn’t possibly do anything to you. We’re harmless,��� she said.
The nearly invisible king walked up to her with his sword blade drawn, and with an expression of inevitability. His voice was cold and brutally detached from all normal human emotions.
���For the same reason you will crush an ant on the street,��� he said. ���Because you can.���
As the king approached, Barbara dipped her hand into her pocket, reaching for the broken portion of the arrow that she’d kept.
���But I’m not an ant,��� Barbara replied, speaking with her voice raised. ���I’m human, just like you are.���
Now the Desert King stopped in front of her, looking down on her with contempt.
���You are a human, yes… But I am something more,��� he said, raising his sword up high, and with his own piece of broken arrow in his other hand that slowly brightened as he spoke. ���You are a vapor, but I am immortal.���
Then Barbara, who would never have done this except in the most dire of circumstances, and to the most hateful of villains, she leapt to her feet, lifting off the ground with her good leg, and catching the Desert King completely by surprise, since he thought he could not be seen.
She stabbed the arrow into him, as it glowed brightly, ready to be reflected after coming to the end of its one hour in that world.
���Everything dies, Surru,��� she said aloud, with the ringing still in her ears. ���Even batteries.���
And she shoved away from the evil king as an orb of impenetrable light formed around him.
And there in that moment, Surru looked perhaps the most terrified that Barbara had ever seen anyone look. And before he could be healed of his wounds, his orb of light was shot upward toward the heavens.
And back in Gleomu, the body of King Surru descended from the morning clouds onto the battlefield, and was seen by all the desert armies and the few remaining horsemen of Ismere. Which then, thusly ended the war, and rescued the known universe from what would have certainly been a vicious and deadly conflict. All because of a king’s well shot flaming arrow from high above the fields of Ismere, and the bravery of a young woman from Earth.
Chapter Forty-Four
Things That Were Lost
That morning, all the residents of Ismere, of fighting age, came out of the city as Surru’s body returned to their planet. Yet, there was no great battle, and simply this show of force was enough to topple the massive Desert army, who had lost their will to fight since they could no longer be instantly healed.
And all of Surru’s war chiefs were killed that day, for leading such a heartless and bloody onslaught against the peoples of that world. Though the rest of the armies were sent back peaceably to their homes, with the added stipulation for the desert people: that they should consider themselves the perpetual subjects of Gleomu, though they were never again allowed to enter through the canyon pass into Gleomu, on penalty of death.
And also, they found that morning, that the globe of Gleomu was mortally wounded. The hole from Corwan’s arrow had spread along the face of it. And by the time that Arthur Greyford, and Matilde, and Queen Delany could attend to it, the crack had fanned out in thin lines across its entire surface.
���If I should guess,��� Arthur said, after doing his part in inspecting it. ���She might have only one trip left in her… any more than that, and I should think the force would burst through all the seams.���
And Delany and Mattie both agreed with his assessment.
And furthermore, this deep and fatal wound in the side of the globe, also mirrored King Corwan’s own wound from Surru’s invisible sword. By the time the battle had ended, it had bled through the bandages that Ata had made for him, and even the best doctors in Gleomu, and King Wilbur, a surgeon himself, could do nothing for him. Yet even in that dire condition, Corwan would still not agree to use the globe for himself.
���But I don’t understand,��� Ata said in a whisper to Tavora, after she had, out of necessity, retrieved her medallion from the fallen King Surru, knowing that she could not risk it to fall into the wrong hands again.
���Why won’t he use the globe?��� Ata continued, ���…like Arthur said, she’s only got one trip left in her. He’d be the last one to ever use it.���
Though Tavora could not think of a proper explanation for this, saying, in the end, that she was ���sure he had his reasons.���
When Surru had flown away, through the ceiling of the ruined palace, Barbara ran, hobbling, to Timothy’s energy barrier, pounding her fists on the surface.
���Tim, we’re safe now,��� she shouted.
Though he was unresponsive and unstirring. And with her great eyesight, even in that dim place, she could see that his chest did not rise and fall, and his face had looked paler than she had ever seen it.
In the panic to protect Timothy from Surru’s menacing invisible sword, she had not considered the possibility that he would still be unresponsive, and might suffocate within his own force field.
���Not now,��� she said, angrily, beating the energy field. ���Don’t leave me here without you!��� she shouted at him, with the most desperate agony that could be placed within a human soul.
Then she fell to her knees on the hard pavement, and wept bitterly. Though there was nothing but silence in the emptiness around her, which made the sounds of her tears seem all the more permanent, all the more heartbreaking.
After a lengthy discussion, between the remaining light travelers who were left in Gleomu, about the proportional force needed in order to send multiple travelers across the galaxy, as opposed to a single traveler: there was a general consensus that the fragile, and progressively weakening globe could likely only take one traveler, and for safely no more than a period of three hours at the most (though Matilde, who was naturally more conservative in her calculations, insisted that that number was probably more around two hours). And you may wonder why they were so cautious with their science about the matter: it was because, if the globe had broken on a return trip through the galaxy, then there would be nothing then to hold the light together, and that traveler would be instantly killed in the vacuous cold of space.
And also for this reason, the person who should go to find Barbara and Timothy would have to be a volunteer. And, as you might have guessed, they all volunteered: Arthur, and Wilbur, and Matilde, and even Queen Delany, but Ata was firs
t to volunteer.
���I’ll go,��� he said, while they were still deciding how many travelers to send, and for how long.
���It’s dangerous, child,��� Wilbur said (in a loving grandfatherly tone, not as a way to patronize Ata for being young, but because Wilbur had a while ago somewhat adopted Ata as his own grandchild, and thought of him as such).
���They would do the same for me,��� he said. ���And besides, I can fly, which would give me the advantage.���
And so, it was decided that Ata should go. Although Tavora hated that he would have to do something so perilous, and told him so. Howbeit, she understood why he should go, and would have done the same, if she had been legally allowed, and able to herself.
Sunken to the ground, lying on the palace floor, Barbara had been crying intermittently for hours, and when she would think she could stop, and compose herself, she would begin again with a new fervor.
But there in the darkness of that ruined world she heard a voice far above her, calling out her name and Timothy’s. And she recognized it immediately.
���We’re here, Ata,��� she called out, and then her eyes began to well with tears again, realizing that she could no longer say ���we���, since she was now alone.
Ata swooped into the palace, through the broken architecture, in a hurry to find them, since he’d flown for so long across that wasteland planet, and was now coming desperately close to the end of his three hour window of time.
���I’m so glad I found you,��� he said to her, after landing in the center of that column of moonlight that drifted through the hole in the ceiling.
But Barbara was still obviously crying.
���What’s the matter?��� he said. Though he could guess, having never seen Barbara so sad.
She stepped aside so that Ata could see Timothy more clearly, lying lifeless, confined within his lessening but still intact energy barrier. And they both cried together, until Ata thought they could not wait any longer, knowing he would be reflected at any moment.
���I can’t take him with us,��� he said, trying to be delicate about the issue. ���I can’t touch him with the energy field around him.���
Barbara wiped her hair out of her face, still damp from her tears. ���I’m not leaving him,��� she said, unable to entirely control her hostility and emotions. ���He stayed with me, when I almost died here,��� she continued.
���Yes, but you were almost dead,��� Ata replied. ���He’s not coming back.���
���You don’t know that,��� she said, sniffling and snapping at her good friend, who was just trying to be a voice of reason.
���He’s not…��� Ata said again.
And in the dark of that night, that world seemed to be the most lifeless and dreadful place in all the universe. Then the ringing started.
���We need to go,��� Ata said, putting an arm around Barbara so that she could now hear the groaning ringing of the globe reflecting for the last time.
Yet the thought of leaving tore at her. She shoved him away.
���No, I can’t,��� she said.
���But you might be alone forever,��� Ata warned, as he began to glow with orb light forming around him.
���Or he might be,��� she said. ���Arthur said, it was nearly impossible to die here,��� she continued.
Seeing her face, Ata knew he could not convince her, not in what short time that remained, and so he decided not to waste the last bit of human interaction she might have left, with arguing. ���I hope he was right,��� Ata said, then giving a sad smile to say goodbye.
���What should I tell people?��� he asked, shouting as the orb solidified around him.
���Tell them, ‘I love them’,��� she yelled in return. ���No,��� she said, changing her mind, ���Tell them I died. Tell them we both had.���
And then like the blink of a spark, Ata was gone. The orb rattled and shook as he was pulled through space. The solid light around him intensifying, and then dimming in swells, like an old light bulb.
This was not good, Ata thought: and it had never happened before, meaning the globe was breaking down. He flew through star systems in a blur. Then coming quickly, there was Gleomu’s planet. Just a few more seconds, he thought, to safety. Yet, as he came through the atmosphere, the orb around him disintegrated.
Light broke through the cracks in the globe, a brilliant outpouring of pure light, slowly intensifying, until it shattered into an explosion of radiant blinding light. The sound of the explosion broke like a cannon blast, causing the instant formation of a crater, devastating the area where the globe had stood.
Though thankfully without injury, since everyone had fled from the globe when they saw the light ripping through the cracks. And when it burst, only undetectable tiny fragments, like dust, were spread across the landscape.
When they saw this, Tavora shut her eyes, shaking her head from side to side. ���No, no…��� she said, repeatedly. Until Queen Matilde came to comfort her, in anguish herself, and Tavora shivered and began to weep.
Ata fell, spinning out of control in the freezing upper atmosphere. He fell at a rocket speed. He could not throw his electromechanical ball any faster than he already fell. He tried to throw it sideways, but this did very little. And so instead, he turned over, so that he plummeted to the ground with his hands facing toward the sky. Tossing the ball upwards, he made short stuttered catches to slow his speed, which pulled his arms in jerking violent motions, and dug his forearm bands into his wrists, because of his constant acceleration.
And the ground continued to move toward him, and he could not without drastic, painful measures, break his momentum in enough time. And so he threw his ball to the side, and slightly upward, if he could, aiming for a new location.
A figure split through the clouds, more than a minute after the globe of Gleomu had burst into pieces. It was a lone flying boy, who fell in a diagonal direction toward the lake that lay halfway between the base of the mountains, and the city walls.
���It’s him,��� Prince Asa said, astonished, pointing toward the sky.
���Where are the others?��� Matilde said, with a hurt and disbelieving tone.
���He’s headed for the lake,��� Princess Alethea commented, looking up from attending to her father, who had been carried from their flying machine, and now lay on the battlefield.
When she saw this, Tavora pushed away from Queen Matilde.
���He’s falling too quickly,��� Tavora said, to explain herself, and as a way to call the others to help. And she ran toward Timothy’s lizard, who was lying in the grass nearby sunning himself, and she rode him at a blistering speed toward the lake, as if Ata’s life had depended on it, which it might have.
And while she rode, Ata fell like a comet into the lake, launching a spray high into the air. Her lizard blazed across the field, and came to the frigid early winter’s shoreline, before the rippling waves subsided.
Without thought, she leapt from her lizard and dove into the water. The cold bit her skin, but she made it to the place where Ata had struck the surface, and she dove beneath the water. The icy water pricked at her face like needles, and her vision was murky, but somehow she saw him. And a few seconds later she broke through the surface, holding him up, and taking in a giant gulp of glorious air.
And with the help of Asa, and Queen Matilde, whom had both arrived not that long afterward, Ata was drug to safety, coughing up a lung full of water, and sustaining only minimal broken ribs and minor bruises. (Except for the places where his forearm bands had dug into his wrists, which bled and needed bandaging.)
When he was sure to be alright, seated on the banks of the lake, and wearing Asa’s coat around his shoulders, Queen Matilde asked him, what was most on her mind.<
br />
���Couldn’t you find them?��� she said.
And here, Ata did not do as Barbara had requested of him, but retold the whole story as he knew it. But this did not appease the Queen, who might have scolded Ata for leaving Barbara there alone; Except that she, walking away to have her time of grieving, did not allow herself to yell at the boy, who’d honestly done what he thought to be right.
���I’m glad you’re alive,��� Tavora said to Ata, after he’d told them his story.
And Ata gave her a grateful smile, thinking that perhaps there was more to her words than what she would say aloud, and I believe that he was right in that regard.
Chapter Forty-Five
Morning
That afternoon, as the sun made its rest over the fields of Gleomu, King Corwan lay reclined on the grass, with all his family nearby. And he wished to make a statement before his people, but he could not speak loud enough to be heard above a whisper, and so Asa spoke his father’s words in his stead.
And these were King Corwan’s words, as spoken through Asa, in short fragmented segments:
���Some may ask,��� the Prince said, ���Why I would allow this for myself, when the chance was there to reverse it?���
All the city was there to hear the King’s words, pressed in around the royal family, as Asa shouted to be heard. ���And I will answer this question with another… What would be better for Ismere, for Gleomu? That I should live forever, or that I am good? That I should bend the laws to my liking, or that I should not allow for myself, that which I would not allow for my people?���
And here Asa had to speak even louder, because many of the citizens could not hold their tears. ���I have lived a long life. If not in age, then in purpose.���
And these were the last public words of King Corwan, on the day of his death, because he heard his friends weep for him.
���Do not waste yourself in tears. Do we mourn for the sun when it is night, knowing that it will shine again?���
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 61