The Reconciling: The Overcome Trilogy Part I

by April Lynn Newell

  “Let’s continue, please, before I vomit from all this perfection,” she says bitterly.

  Chrissi decides to leave her boots off and carry them, continuing in her socks. The slightly rocky and dirt-ridden path almost serves as a deep tissue massage for the soles of her feet.

  “You know what I’ve noticed?” Phil asks the group as they begin their trek again. Everyone rolls their eyes.

  “No more biology or ecology, please Phil,” Kesil bids, almost desperately.

  Phil sighs then musters up some pride, “My observation is that this path, unlike the one in Boundless Forest, has other paths branching off of it.” He points to the sides at openings in the foliage.

  “Should we take one? How do we know which is right?” Lesia asks in concern. “Oh, I hope we don’t have to back track!” They all stop and look down the new paths.

  “I think we should continue on this one,” Chrissi says.

  “How can you be sure? These paths are wider,” Kesil points to a couple nearest them, “Maybe they are meant for a group.”

  “I agree with Chrissi,” Phil says. He and Chrissi begin walking. Lesia and Kesil find themselves gazing longingly down a side path with shade, but quickly tear themselves away and follow.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As the sun sets so does everyone’s exhaustion.

  “Can we stop for the night yet?” Lesia complains, dragging her feet at the end of their human train.

  “I was hoping we would find a clearing at some point, like in the other forest,” Chrissi comments. “But I suppose we should stop with enough light to cook some dinner.”

  “Fooood!” Phil blurts in a zombie-like tone that makes Lesia squeal with surprise, and a bit of fright.

  “I think that’s an agreement,” Kesil chuckles, steering Phil straight as he begins to veer into a tree.

  “OK…where?” Chrissi stops and turns to face them. “Right here? In the middle of the path? It seems to be our only option.”

  “Not like it matters, really,” Lesia pouts. “A hard ground is a hard ground.” She stretches her arms up and her spine cracks in three places.

  “What about that path?” Kesil points behind Chrissi, trying not to roll his eyes, again, at Lesia’s complaints.

  “I guess we can check it out, just to spend the night in,” she says with boldness that only comes to her with exhaustion. Someone has to make a decision; better to make it fast than stand around on their tired feet.

  Kesil leads the way to the small gap in between two large bushes. The path is about twice as wide as the one they have been traveling on all day. Kesil looks around hastily and proceeds down the path, the others following.

  Trees form a thick canopy overhead, making the area much darker than the main path but still with enough light by which to work. Chrissi follows hesitantly behind Kesil and Lesia pushes Phil forward in aggressive annoyance. A few yards down the path, a wooden sign marks, Madqarah.

  “Maybe it’s a town!” Lesia says with a moment of hope.

  “A clearing,” Kesil proclaims proudly. “Look!” he points and motions for them to hurry.

  “Or just a clearing,” Lesia corrects, feeling like a deflated balloon.

  Chrissi jogs to close the gap between her and Kesil, covertly fighting for the lead, and peers into a small opening in the surrounding forestry. Sure enough, not ten yards down this path is a clearing, perfect for a night’s rest. She looks up at Kesil and, despite her hesitance of this path and darkness, his look of sheer glee for his own helpfulness puts a smile on her face as well. They help Lesia and, mostly, Phil into the clearing and sit them down.

  “Fooood,” Phil moans, attempting to lean against a tree but falling over instead.

  “Yes Phil, foooood!” says Lesia rolling her eyes.

  After their meal of plain oatmeal, Phil seems more conscious as he flips casually the Book and everyone leans back against the nearest tree. This clearing is so small, if they were to stretch out their legs they would almost touch each other. It’s already dark and Lesia is dosing off.

  “I guess we can all sleep, it seems to be pretty safe,” says Chrissi, yawning. Phil nods slightly as his eyes dart from page to page, but his excitement does not hide his exhaustion. She looks at Kesil, the only other fully conscious person, but his eyes look glassy and he’s biting his lip, a whole other world away.

  The more time they spend in this dark offshoot of the Narrow Forest, the more anxious Kesil becomes. Suddenly all of his uncle’s warnings come flooding to his mind, many Kesil had forgotten or brushed off as superstition or even just plain fiction.

  “Sure Chrissi,” he says finally, keeping his gaze on the empty dinner pot before him. She watches him for a moment but neglects any further personal questions, figuring he would just change the subject as he seems to do so often. Eventually, everyone tries to get comfortable and sleeps. Though Kesil closes his eyes, he has great trouble falling asleep.

  ***

  “You didn’t even clean it! You just rinsed it and when we brought it out last night, it stunk!”

  The girls wake up to Kesil yelling at Phil. It is obvious the argument was started mere minutes before and is progressing quickly. Lesia lays her head back down and covers it with a sweater, trying to block out the noise. Chrissi sits up and rubs sleep out of her eyes, slowly adjusting to the morning light.

  “Guys,” she croaks with an awakening voice.

  “I DID TOO CLEAN THAT POT!” Phil screams, slightly high-pitched, an accusing finger threatening Kesil.

  “Guys,” Chrissi says a little louder. Her eyes finally focus on the strange scene the boys are causing. But even before she focuses on them, she feels the thick heaviness of the air around them. They went to sleep in an eerily calm atmosphere that in the night obviously gave way to something more eerie than calm.

  “Just like you ‘cleaned’ it last night?” Kesil retorts with air quotes, feeling anger lash out with every word. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know! I didn’t touch it last night!” Phil retorts, his frustration and hesitance toward Kesil boiling to the surface.

  “Guys?”

  “So you didn’t help out? You think you’re too good to do chores?”

  “I never said that!”

  “Guys!”

  “You don’t have to! I see the way you look at me! I’m troubled and you think you and your perfect family are better!”

  “No I don’t! I—”

  “Sure you do! You’re arrogant, rude, and selfish! You. Are. A. Self. Righteous. Jerk!” Kesil lashes out so forcefully spit flies with each word. He glares at Phil, but the glare does not have time to penetrate Phil’s awareness before he doubles over clutching his stomach.

  “Phil?” Chrissi stands up slowly, cautiously. He gives no reply but a deep groan as he crumples to the ground. Then Chrissi sees the most horrible sight of her life. Blood. Blood creeps out in a puddle from Phil’s abdomen. “PHIL!” she screams as she runs to him. Lesia is now fully awake and quickly makes her way to the scene.

  “Apply pressure!” she says. “I think…I think you’re supposed to apply pressure. Right?” she turns to Kesil. “What happened?”

  “I—I—I didn’t—I don’t—Chrissi I’m—”

  “Just HELP!” Chrissi feels hot, mournful tears fall fast down her cheeks. Confusion fills her mind as she tries to sort out what happened and what to do now. Did Kesil do something? “Phil please. You know what to do. Tell me what to do!” Phil’s eyes are closed and his breathing is steadily slowing down as more and more blood flows from his abdomen. Chrissi sits helplessly in the middle of the deep-red puddle.

  Phil lets out another groan and turns over onto his back exposing four broad gashes across his stomach as if a claw ripped right through his shirt and skin. Lesia gasps and runs to his other side. Kesil takes a step away.

  “I didn’t touch him,” Kesil says, more in confusion than defense.

  “Shh, it’s OK, you will be OK,” Chrissi whis
pers, stroking Phil’s hair and ignoring Kesil.

  Lesia feels tears well up and plummet to the earth between her and Phil. With each fallen tear a song plays in her head, louder and louder—a peaceful melody, one that sounds so familiar but she cannot place it. Closing the small gap between them, Lesia takes Phil’s face in her own hands, lightly splotched with timid red. Chrissi starts to reach out to stop her but hesitates.

  “Phil!” Lesia says authoritatively in a voice unlike her own, “you can’t leave us! We cannot make this journey without you. You are the wisest, most caring person I’ve ever met. We need that,” she glances quickly at Kesil and Chrissi, the same proclamations in her eyes. She turns back to Phil, “We need you Egghead.” Lesia lets go of Phil and leans away, feeling her hope fall from a great height. She really feels like Phil can hear every word, that he can fight. But looking at the deep wounds on his abdomen, through the large tears in his shirt and flesh, she realizes he has lost too much blood to function.

  Can he hear her at all?

  She buries her head in her hands, crying harder. What was she thinking? That a pep talk could really help?

  Chrissi stares at Lesia for a moment longer. It would be just like the shallow rival of a girl to milk an intense situation for all its worth. Chrissi wonders, were Lesia’s words for attention, or did she, in fact, really mean them?

  “Did you see that?” Kesil asks in excited disbelief, taking a small step forward. “He breathed deeper!” Chrissi’s eyes immediately dart back to her beloved friend.

  “Ugh!” Lesia responds from inside her hands, “His final breath!” She sighs. Kesil raises an eyebrow at her overdramatic conclusion following such heartfelt sentiments. And heartfelt he thinks they truly were.

  “No! Look!” Chrissi says jubilantly. “The wounds are healing?”

  “What?” Lesia looks over her hands through tear-filled eyes to see blood racing back into his wounds and the gashes slowly, but surely, closing.

  Phil opens his eyes and blinks at the brightening sky, “Wha—where—”

  “Shh, it’s OK,” Chrissi says smiling so broadly her cheeks ache.

  “You’re OK,” Lesia echoes happily. She glances up at Kesil, relief plainly written on his face. This would be a perfect time to jump up into a joyful embrace—perfect time to force him to notice her. She looks back down at Phil, still healing miraculously, and then the urge to be noticed fades away.

  Phil sits up slowly with the girls’ help. He looks down at his now blood-stained and torn shirt, the four gashes nothing but light pink scars now and still fading.

  “What the heck happened?” he asks of Kesil in pure curiosity.

  “I—I’m not sure,” he responds. “We were arguing.”

  “I remember that, but then it all goes…black.”

  “Or red,” says Lesia, to which everyone gives a brief criticizing eye.

  “I said something—something cruel, and you fell, you got hurt,” Kesil tries to answer, though not completely following himself.

  “Did something attack me?” Phil asks. They look around, but Kesil continues staring at Phil incredulously, and the realization dawns on him.

  “I did it.”

  “What?” Chrissi and Lesia solicit together.

  “I’ve been hiding something from you—”

  “I know,” says Phil before Kesil can finish. “That’s why I’ve been acting so strangely with you. I’m sorry, but I know.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I should not be here, I’m probably making everything worse. I never should have come. I’m bringing danger to us all here,” Kesil says in one breath.

  “Kesil you could not have caused this. I saw both of you. You were only arguing verbally, from five feet away!” says Chrissi, trying to comfort him and regretting how she treated him during the whole debacle.

  “Chrissi, I know you sense that—that I’m evil.” Everyone is silent. “My uncle, Uncle Tok, and my parents too I’m sure of it now, they are too. I wasn’t sure which side was right, or good, until now.”

  “You mean the sides Nahal spoke of?” asks Phil. The girls look desperately at each other thinking Phil is believing Kesil’s absurd confession.

  “I have always been taught, by my family and mostly my uncle, that there are two sides in our world, well this one too. There is Roi’s side and the other side. I’ve never been clear about who is on the other side, my family definitely, but I don’t know who leads them. But, the scary thing, Lesia, Phil, Chrissi,” he looks in the eyes of each of his friends, “these two sides are at war. I think I’ve been on the wrong side all along and now that we’re here on this plane it’s harming you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Everyone stares wide-eyed at Kesil. He looks down at his dirty, brown boots covered in the tan dust they have walked on for days. His heart beats faster and faster and he can feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip. He looks up but toward the other side of the clearing, avoiding the faces of his…friends?

  Were those yellow eyes in the darkness?

  He shakes his head and stares back down at his shoes. Paranoia before his confession. Surely this is it. He will be left here on this plane to fend for himself, and he will willingly take the punishment. He deserves it. Cautiously he lifts his head, straightens his back, and looks vacantly at his friends.

  “Kesil, what do you mean ‘war’?” Chrissi still stares with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  Kesil takes a deep breath, “I mean Roi, the king, has an adversary. In fact, I think he always has.”

  “How do you know your uncle isn’t just a crazy conspirator?” Phil is much more relaxed than either of the girls. Kesil wonders for a moment if it is because Phil is finally proven right and now floats in his own element of hypothesizing and debating.

  “My parents, their friends, others like Tok, leaders in the House even, they all believe Roi has stolen the throne, that anyone should be able to fight for it, challenge. Why should Roi automatically be king for life? I mean, life for the king is obviously very long. How many generations has he had control? And where has he been all this time?” Kesil pauses, everyone still looks fearful, so he swiftly redirects himself. “Tok warned me that if certain things happen I am to tell him immediately. I think he is looking for Roi’s dwelling place.”

  Chrissi shifts uncomfortably but does not take her eyes off Kesil. Though the miracle of Phil’s healing is not lost on them, the thick and intense atmosphere still lingers. It is difficult to shake. Lesia’s eyes dart from one person to another, her cheeks are red hot and angry tears threaten to fall. She shakes her head violently as the burden of Madquarah settles on her shoulders.

  “This isn’t your fault Kesil,” she says causing everyone’s jaws to drop.

  “Well of course not,” says Phil. “Obviously you could not know the truth if you were taught the opposite. But, now that you do you can fight with us!” he beams. Finally, the stories are coming together in Phil’s mind of the king teaching, blessing and giving his people talents to do great things. Phil longs to be part of a story.

  Kesil opens his mouth to begin defense, “How do you—”

  “WHAT?” Lesia screams with a fierce frustration that seems to build suddenly. “Fight? You think I’m going to continue to march to my death? NO. WAY. This isn’t Kesil’s fault, it’s Chrissi’s! SHE brought us here with that stupid card. She’s the sick one who needs to be fixed, yet she drug us here to die!” she steps away from Chrissi nearer to Kesil and curls her lip in disgust.

  “That isn’t true!” Chrissi protests frantically, though as she verbalizes the words she realizes she does not quite believe them herself. “What have I done?”

  “No, Chrissi,” Phil reaches out to put a reassuring hand on her arm but she jerks it away.

  “A war?” she repeats. She looks down the path outside the clearing. Her heart beats faster and harder.

  “The war existed long before we started this journey,” says Kesil, trying to step away from Le
sia, who now grips onto his arm cutting off circulation. “It has been going on for years, decades, even centuries, who knows how long! Maybe forever! How old is Roi?” he looks to Phil.

  Phil opens his mouth but pauses, “I…I don’t know. I mean…the earliest manuscript is at least—”

  “Who cares?” Lesia bellows. “She is the monster who has doomed us all! If we hadn’t come here we would all be blissfully unaware and happy! All our suffering is your fault!” her finger juts out with words she doesn’t plan, accusing swords to Chrissi’s chest.

  “I’m so sor—ugh!” suddenly Chrissi drops to her knees.

  “Chrissi!” Kesil darts to her side without hesitation, dragging a clinging Lesia half way before she turns loose of his arm. Jealousy flashes across her face to join her frustration.

  “What’s wrong?” Phil asks frantically. Chrissi grasps her chest and rears back in pain. Phil, standing slightly behind her, next to Kesil, spots crimson by Chrissi’s boot. “No!” he rushes to Lesia. “You did it!” he grabs her by the shoulders.

  “Did what?” she begins to sob with frustration and fear, pushing Phil away as he tries to drag her closer to Chrissi. “I didn’t, it’s all her!” she points at Chrissi again, still grappling out of Phil’s grasp. “She’s the one, she ruins everything! She’s not the perfect girl everyone thinks she is! She’s awful!”

  Chrissi writhes in pain as a gush of blood pours from a small open wound in her chest.

  “Stop!” Kesil orders. He rips Phil away from Lesia, pushing him aside, and drags her the rest of the way to Chrissi, who now lay in agony on her side, losing consciousness. He kneels down next to her, gently forcing Lesia to do the same. “This happened after you blamed her, like when I yelled at Phil and put him down. I didn’t think I did it either, then I thought it was just me, that it was the adversary using me. Or worse…that I—” Kesil stops, not wanting to put his fear to words.