Wiklow

by Moira Murphy

  “Just for a minute,” Niko said thankfully. He was beyond exhausted. He had just found out that he had some mystical superpower, and now he was supposed to begin using it? He’d spent his entire nineteen years on earth being normal, and now he was expected to be supernatural. He was confused as to how to feel. Every little boy wants to be a superhero, to have super strength or x-ray vision, but to have it thrust upon you after you’ve surpassed that stage in life was perplexing.

  “Are you alright?” Bindy asked, noticing his defeated face.

  “I’ve been better.” Niko shrugged.

  “I can only imagine that all this might be overwhelming.”

  “It is.” Niko nodded.

  “You don’t have to accept this life, Niko.” Her words were intended to be kind, but were sharply perceived. “I don’t mean that unkindly. I mean it as—“ Bindy couldn’t think of a way to finish her thought.

  “As?” Niko encouraged her.

  “I just mean that—this is a lot to take on. This is a lot to process and you don’t have to make a decision right now.”

  “What decision?”

  “The decision to be—what your father was. No one is asking you to be the next Ward. Not saying that that wouldn’t be welcomed, just that it is up to you in the end.” She smiled.

  “Run me through what it feels like for you, again.”

  “Alright.” Bindy sat down on the dirt, crossed legged, and placed her hands on her knees. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. Niko sat across from her, and slowly mimicked her movements, taking care that they were in sync. They were close enough to the mouth of the cave, they could hear the water careening down the hole. “Relax… listen to the water…”

  “Relaxing… listening to the water…” Niko repeated.

  “Focus on your goal…” Bindy spoke soothingly.

  “Focusing on my goal…”

  “It’s all malleable…” Bindy whispered. The water became quieter and quieter, eventually it all became silent. Niko peeked through his eyelashes at the cave behind Bindy. Its edges became blurry, like static on an old television set.

  “Dammit, Bindy! Why is it so easy for you?” Niko scoffed. The entire cave disappeared and a seamless wall appeared in its place.

  “Don’t get discouraged. I’ve been practicing since I could walk. It’s not going to happen quickly.” She looked over her shoulder at the camouflaged cave and smiled.

  “What are you thinking about when you do it?” Niko asked.

  “Well, I’m thinking about my goal… I’m thinking about why I am casting the spell, mostly.”

  “Why?” Niko asked

  “Yes, why. When I do it normally, it is to protect Wiklow. Right now, I’m doing it to teach you.”

  “Well, maybe that’s my problem. Why am I doing this? Why do I need to learn to do this?” Niko stood up, too frustrated to continue.

  “Why are you doing this?” Bindy asked, sincerely.

  “Thanks, Bindy. Just the vote of confidence I needed.” Niko threw his hands up.

  “No, Niko.” She turned him around. “I’m serious, why are you doing this? Why are you here?”

  “I was pushed,” he answered.

  “Well, yes, that’s how you got here, but why are you still here? You could have left… you still could… you know how to get home. Why are you here?” She asked. Bindy was such a soft spoken person, these inquisitive wise questions coming from her mouth were surprising. Sure, she talked a lot, but usually just ramblings; these words hit Niko hard. Why was he here?

  He was here to find Cami, but was she even here? He thought it was mostly because his friends were here, and he wanted to be with them. But, he wasn’t the type to follow a crowd, or fall to peer pressure. He had a happy life at home; he was comfortable at the auto shop, he was content with his home, and his friends. He found satisfaction in his life, but was a satisfactory life what he wanted?

  “I belong here.” The words came out of his mouth before they even finished crossing his mind. Bindy smiled in reply.

  “I belong here,” he said again, trying to comprehend all that they meant. Never had he felt that he had a purpose or somewhere to belong, but Bindy had brought it to his attention that he felt differently here.

  “I think so, too.” Bindy let down her spell. “Okay, good. This is good. I’m going to let you do it this time by yourself.” She grew excited and stepped out from in between Niko and the cave. “Keep thinking what you’re thinking.”

  Niko shut his eyes and breathed slowly in and out.

  “Make me see there is no cave.” Bindy whispered.

  He focused on the sounds of the water, each droplet falling together.

  “You are a part of this place. You belong here,” Bindy spoke quietly, staring intently at the cave, hoping it would disappear. Niko clenched his fists and visualized the cave disappearing. He focused on each rock and envisioned them blending all together. He thought of the water and the sound becoming quieter and quieter, as Bindy had done earlier.

  He kept his eyes shut, “Is it working?” he asked.

  “Uh…” Bindy stammered. “Kind of...”

  “What do you see?” he asked quietly, trying to focus even more so on the water.

  “Well, the water is gone,” Bindy said hopefully, “But the cave is still there.”

  Niko smiled and opened his eyes, “I did it?” he asked.

  “Well, now it’s back, but yes! You did it!” She jumped up and down.

  “I did it!” Niko hugged her. “Let’s go again!”

  ***

  “Again.” Tuck wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his palm.

  “We should work with the weapons.” Mooney hunched over, breathing heavily. His nose was bleeding, he allowed it to drip down his face.

  “You already know how to use all of them, you should learn how to fight with your fists. What if you don’t have a weapon during a fight?” Tuck asked.

  “You don’t know anything about these weapons. You need to learn to use them,” Mooney suggested.

  “Alright one more time, then we can do it your way,” Tucker digressed. Mooney sighed in defeat.

  “Try going for the chin this time.” Tucker put his fists up in front of his body, and bent his knees. Mooney followed suit. Tucker switched his fist to a flat palm; facing up. Mooney punched it, twice. Tucker shuffled around and put his palm up again; again Mooney punched it twice.

  “Good.” Tuck encouraged. “Spar.”

  Mooney swung at Tuck’s left cheek bone, he ducked, and felt Mooney’s fist whip through his hair. Tucker quickly threw a fist into Mooney’s rib; hard enough to feel it, but it would not leave a bruise. Before Tucker could blink, Mooney rammed his fist under his chin. His head flew backward, and he stumbled. “Shit.” Tucker put his hand in the air, asking Mooney to stop. “That was good. That was good.” He gave accolades while rubbing his jaw.

  “Where did you learn to fight like this?” Mooney asked massaging the knuckles on his right hand. “Your father?”

  “No,” Tucker chuckled, “My dad would not be happy if he knew I fought.”

  “Fighting is a noble venture,” Mooney stated.

  “Not where we come from, where we come from you fight with guns… weapons that pretty much guarantee death. There is no nobility in that.” Tucker cracked his neck. “I started fighting when I was a kid, mostly for my brother, but I think, even if I didn’t have to fight for him… I would have fought anyway. I just feel in control when I’m fighting—not in the power trip narcissist way—“

  “In what way?” Mooney asked.

  “Okay maybe it might be narcissistic reasoning—“ Tucker laughed to himself, “the best way I can describe it is; if I’m the one fighting—everyone else is safe.”

  “That is narcissistic,” Mooney smiled.

  “Yeah, maybe it is,” Tucker agreed.

  “No, I understand what you mean.” Mooney tried to reassure him. “I think that’s what
it is about Lavocs that make us so eager to… defend. It’s a built-in animalistic trait. At least if I’m the one in harm’s way, no one else is, even it is just for a moment.”

  Tucker nodded in acknowledgement.

  “So, I got side jobs and started buying lessons on boxing, then I started teaching after graduation.”

  “You are a good teacher.” Mooney took a swig of water and handed the bottle to Tucker, who did the same. Tucker nodded again.

  “You don’t talk a lot.” Mooney pointed out.

  “I talk—when there’s something to say.”

  “Well, alright then.” Mooney said. “Now, we work with weapons.”

  ***

  “My God.”

  Tessa stood atop a large wooden ladder she had found and maneuvered under the dome ceiling of the dining hall. She gazed up at the dark blue waves painted onto the ceiling. She was, at that moment, focusing specifically on a small yellow haired girl with amazing blue eyes and pale white skin. The detail was incredible; she had never seen such direct brush strokes and intentional paint build up. The artist must have been a prodigy, a genius, a Picasso.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Palmer had entered quietly, and now stood at the bottom of the ladder, holding it in place.

  “It’s incredible.” She looked down at him, “Have you seen it up this close?”

  “I have.” He nodded. “I think it was the first week I got here. It reminded me of home.”

  “Where’s home?” Tessa asked, taking a final look up at the little girl before descending the ladder.

  “Have you heard of the Piasa bird in Illinois?” he asked her, offering his hand to balance her.

  “… Piasa… yeah, that’s the ancient Native American mural right?” She recalled a college course on art history, that had touched base on such a thing.

  “Yes, it was a mural painted around the year 1200, and it still stands today. That’s where I’m from.” He pointed to the ceiling. “Mooney tells me this was painted when the first Queen ruled.”

  Tessa nodded, she felt uncomfortable with Palmer; mostly because she couldn’t stop thinking about one question. She wanted to know more on how he got here.

  “It’s not finished ya’ know?”

  “What?” She asked.

  “The mural.” He pointed to the ceiling again, “It’s not finished, they never finished it.” In the far off back corner of the ceiling there was a six foot paintless circle; unfinished. “I bet they’d let you finish it.” Palmer pulled a chair out for Tess to sit in, she sat.

  “Huh,” she laughed, “No, for two reasons. One, I’m not that good, and two, wouldn’t it be strange for someone who isn’t from here to finish it?”

  “I doubt it.” He sat in a chair across from her. “They accepted me as if I were one of them. I suppose if you,” he thought carefully on his words, “if you were to show them you were genuine.”

  “Genuine?” She was confused, if the Wiklowians were so welcoming and accepting of others, why did they have so many preventative measures for newcomers?

  “Yeah, genuine.” Palmer peered at her face, “I know, the Wards, they seem to discourage new people from coming, but it’s really just a protection from people like… well, Nathayre. They can’t be sure we will all be as harmless as myself.”

  “Well, I still wouldn’t feel right about finishing a thousand year old mural, as an outsider.”

  “Then, don’t be an outsider.” Palmer said, flatly. Tessa stared at him, it wasn’t an unkind statement, just a logical one.

  “How did you become… not an outsider?” Tessa asked.

  “—You know, I couldn’t tell you what I did or the exact moment—it just is.” Palmer hand combed his long black hair into a ponytail. “When I got here, I was by myself for a long while. I honestly thought I was dead.”

  “When was that?”

  “I got here… six or seven years ago.” He let his head lean back, looking at the ceiling. “Mooney was the one who found me; he was a young Lavoc, barely working. He brought me here.”

  “That means Nathayre wasn’t King yet. Why did he bring you here?” Tessa questioned.

  “Crawford. Mooney knew that he would either kill me or send me back and I begged him not to… I couldn’t go back there.” He brought his head forward and ran his hand down his face. “Not after how I left.” Tessa wanted to know more, and wanted him to continue, but it clearly brought emotion up in him, and she didn’t want to push him.

  “Do you want some water?” she asked, partially standing.

  “No…” He answered, harshly. “I mean, thank you, but no. I haven’t talked about this… ever. And for some reason, I want to talk about it now.” He looked at her pale face; she reminded him of his wife.

  “Ok.” Tessa said, sitting back down quietly.

  “I—I had a wife,” he began. “A wife and a son.” He swallowed hard. “A little blonde boy.” He grinned. “How could I produce a little blonde boy?” He chuckled, and looked to Tess, who smiled. “He looked like his mother, obviously. God, I loved her. That stupid head over heels kind of love. My parents didn’t approve of a white girl and I getting married. They wanted our Native American gene to continue.” He paused. “Little did they know, telling me I couldn’t have her only made me want her more. You know?”

  “Yeah.” Tessa nodded.

  “So, we got married. We got married and a few years later we had our son. Our little blonde haired, blue-eyed boy.” He was lost in memory. “I’m fairly certain people thought I had kidnapped him, we looked so opposite.”

  “What’s his name?” Tessa asked enveloped in the story.

  “Thomas. His name was Thomas.” Palmer thought aloud. “He loved cars; anything that had wheels, he wanted to watch it, he wanted to see it, he wanted to know how it worked. Anytime we couldn’t get him calmed down, we’d just put him in the car and go for a drive—it got to the point where if we even got the car keys in our hands, he’d start to calm.”

  Tessa smiled, imagining the scene.

  “He had fallen asleep in the backseat, and my wife and I were talking about his fourth birthday coming up. Should we have a party? What kind of cake? Normal things.” He was now forcing himself to finish the story. “It was January; freezing, icy.” He paused again. “I couldn’t keep the tires straight, it was impossible, there was no traction. We went right over the edge of the bridge. I thought the water would be completely frozen; it wasn’t.” He began talking faster, urgent to be done. “We went under. My wife, she was bleeding from her forehead, I unbuckled her seatbelt, she told me to get Thomas unbuckled as water started pouring through the windows. I practically shoved her out her window, and screamed at her to get help. Then I turned back to get Thomas, the water was at his chest, when I told him to hold his breath like he learned in swimming class. He was so brave.” Palmer shook his head. “I got his car seat buckle undone, but a part of it—just wouldn’t—it wouldn’t open. I couldn’t get it unlatched.” He coughed, trying to hold back the lump in his throat. “He was holding his breath so well, just like he had been taught—he wasn’t scared or crying. He was calm and—and trusting.”

  He breathed in, “Well, someone must have seen us go off the bridge because someone had come in after us, this man kept pulling on my legs, trying to get me to the surface. I kept kicking him off, trying to get Thomas out. But he just kept pulling, he wouldn’t give up.” He clenched his fist. “He finally overpowered me, and pulled me up.”

  Palmer didn’t speak for a full minute, and Tess didn’t interrupt his thoughts. “He—he, uhh—he was only three,” Palmer bobbed his head. “And my wife never made it to the shore. We never found her.”

  “—Palmer.” Tessa leaned in toward him.

  “And I couldn’t—I just couldn’t live with that. So, I found a—a cliff with water beneath it, so that I could be like them…” He shrugged, “And, I ended up here.”

  “Palmer, I am so sorry that—that happened to you.” Tess was heartb
roken for this poor man who’d lost his entire life.

  “I know that there’s a reason for all of it. I know that there’s a reason I didn’t die in that car, or on that cliff. I don’t know what that reason is, yet. But I do believe that I’ll know why one day. There is purpose in everything.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Tessa nodded.

  “My point being,” Palmer ignored her apology, he knew if he went further there would be more tears than he’d be willing to part with. “That Mooney and the others could—tell that this was where I should be, that I had no fight left in me, that I was genuine.”

  “Genuine,” Tessa repeated, looking up at the bare circle on the ceiling.

  Chapter 16

  Palmer slammed a map down onto the dark walnut table. A stark white parchment with black ink showed an updated version of Wiklow. This map showed much more than the other; more cities, more forests, more land. And a thick black line surrounding Alerden Ocean.

  “He’s built a great wall.” Palmer’s dirty fingernail pointed at the map. “All around the water.”

  “The only way in is through Nathayre’s castle,” Mooney continued.

  “Do we want to go in the castle?” Niko asked.

  “Well…not quite yet,” Mooney said. “But I like the enthusiasm.”

  “No, first we need Cami. That is who he wants,” Palmer interrupted. “The last we heard from her, she was in the city.” He again pointed at the map, at the small city in the northeastern corner of the page.

  “Our plan was to go in and find her but, with you here, maybe we can draw her out.” Mooney suggested.

  “How?” Tucker asked. Mooney and Palmer looked at one another

  “Well, Tessa is our secret weapon so we must keep her reserved for a dire time.” Mooney looked to Tucker. “But, if one of you… perhaps someone she had a… special connection with were to make themselves known,maybe she’d…” he spoke slowly, trying to read faces.

  “That’ll be me.” Niko raised his eyebrows. “I’ll do it.”

  No one said anything. They all looked down at their feet; not wanting to disagree with Niko. After all, he was the one that would draw Cami out, the one she trusted. There was no doubt.