Annah and the Children of Evohe

by Clay Gilbert

  She turned for a moment.

  “I love you,” Holder said.

  “I know that you do. But love cannot sustain itself without trust. Goodbye, Holder.”

  * * * Goodman , thought Holder. That son of a bitch. I wish he’d never come here. Holder had ended up back at the camp at the crash site; there didn’t seem any better place to go. Hell, this isn’t really Goodman’s fault. It’s my fault. She didn’t even really get mad about him bringing the thing here, although she wasn’t thrilled. But I lied about it. No matter how I dress it up, that’s what I did.

  Footsteps in the woods. Not Annah’s. Not Goodman’s.

  “Holder?”

  “Hi, Ardan. Come on in and have a seat by the fire.”

  Ardan did. Jeez, thought Holder. Boy looks as bad as me. He doesn’t feel as bad as me, though. “Bad news travels fast, huh?” Holder asked. “It does. I was at the hearth of Annah’s parents when she came home.”

  “God. I guess they hate me, now.” “No, actually they understand what you did, even if Annah does not. She is very principled, as I am sure you have noticed.”

  “I have noticed,” Holder said. “She is very honest. And she believes in doing things that are right. Our people-we do believe that the love of the body is sacred. But I think that many Promised seedmaidens would give up their blossoms early, while Annah would not.” Ardan smiled. “It is, perhaps, a poor thing to mention.”

  “It’s fine,” Holder said. “I deserve whatever the First Ones throw my way, tonight.”

  “The First Ones do not punish, Holder. We punish ourselves.”

  “What can I do,Ardan? I love her. I want her back.” “She loves you, very much. I believe she will come back to you. She will forgive you. But you cannot do this to her again.”

  “I won’t. But I don’t think I have much time to wait.” “What do you mean?” “There’s a war on, in case you didn’t know. And back on Earth, they’ve started forcing people to join up and fight. My number; Goodman’s number-they’re coming up. And I guess you heard Goodman’s carrying something pretty hot, besides. That thing needs to stay away from Earth.

  “My ship still doesn’t work, so when Goodman leaves, I’m going with him. And I don’t think he’s going to wait very long.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” Ardan said. “But perhaps, if you run far enough, they will not find you. I know that you have no wish to fight in their war.”

  “No, that’s for sure,” Holder said.

  “I know you are a good man.”

  “You’re a good friend, Ardan. Maybe Annah would have been better off with you.” “No, my friend,” Ardan said. “Whatever you are facing now, she is yours. And Kyrin was always meant for me. Give Annah time, Holder. I hope it is enough.”

  So do I, Holder thought.

  * * *

  Gary Holder’s Journal. July 15th, Year 250, Homesec Reckoning. I haven’t seen or heard from Annah in over a week. I think Goodman would have liked to be gone by now. He’s waiting for me, though; giving me time. He knows as well as I do that if I leave this place without making things right with Annah, I may have difficulty making it wherever we end up.

  I don’t want to sound like a kid when I say that. This isn’t me being petulant; me wanting what I want-well, maybe a little. I’ve always done what I thought was a good job; always tried at whatever I did, whether it was a Recon mission, a temporary desk job, or being married. But sometimes it’s important to do what is right in someone else’s eyes, especially if you love them. What I did wasn’t wrong to me, but it was to Annah, and I should have known she’d see it that way. It doesn’t mean I think I should do everything the way she would, or vice versa, but some things have to meet in the middle. I messed that up pretty good.

  Ardan still comes by, though not as often. I hope that means things are getting more serious with he and Kyrin. I’d like for someone to be happy. I’ve even noticed this Evoetian girl hanging around Goodman. He doesn’t seem the type to get serious, but who am I to judge? I think about what happened to this planet, and about how it got grown, or sung, back from destruction. How it got a second chance.

  I think about how Annah wanted, wants-whatever-to give her people a second chance at being what they used to be. I want a second chance, too, with Annah. But I don’t want to be what I used to be. I can be better than that. Here in the night, by the fire, where we used to sleep, I wonder sometimes if I’ve had all my chances already. If I have, maybe Annah would let me share one of hers. I don’t know why I would deserve that. I guess all I can do is wait.

  * * *

  “You look like shit, Holder.” “Good morning to you, Goodman.” Holder pulled the blanket more tightly around him. Head hurts. Should really drink less. The ship-his, anyway-didn’t have any alcohol left in it, so he guessed he wouldn’t have a choice. He could remember when getting drunk to run away from his problems hadn’t been his style. Not long ago, really.

  “Get with the program, buddy,” Goodman said with a grin. “It’s afternoon. Look, I came to tell you our number’s come up. Both of us. Yeah, I wasn’t thrilled, either.”

  Holder tried to wipe the shock off his face. “Yeah,” Goodman said, “either they’re drafting dead men now, or someone’s figured out you didn’t buy it when your ship went down. Either way, we need to get out of here. I know you’d like to wait on Annah a little longer, but really, man”

  “Give me just three more days. Just three days, Kale.” Holder never called Goodman by his first name. “All right,” Goodman said. “Three days. That’s it. After that, I’m outta here. You come with me, or you’re on your own. I might warn you, if they’re on to you, it won’t be long before they’re on to this place, too. So I’d think twice about staying here. Three days. I’ll be back.”

  Three days, Holder thought. Something to work with. I just hope it’s enough. Holder watched the fire; watched the shadows and the shadows and sparks at play within its depths. A couple of times, he even thought he saw Annah’s face in the flames. You have to understand. I need you to forgive me. I don’t want to leave without making this right. Hell, I don’t want to leave at all. He pictured her in his mind: the pale, shining skin, her large, blue eyes, the fire-gold hair; the music of her voice; the beauty of her form, beauty she herself failed to recognize, and, above all, the love and kindness she showed, in every thought and deed.

  She thinks about everything. She had been willing, not long ago, to Promise herself to Jonan, to keep him safe. And what did I do? I lied to her. I did it because I didn’t want her to worry, on our Promising day, he told himself, as if he were speaking to someone else entirely.

  But you still lied. Holder thought he must be going insane. It was one thing to talk to yourself, and another to answer back.

  I lied. Yes. But I won’t be doing it again. Not if she’ll just come back.

  Who was he kidding? By now, she’d have figured out there was no way she could forgive him. Ardan was right; she was principled.

  Probably too principled to want a life with someone like him.

  Holder closed his eyes. Two days, tomorrow. Two days.

  * * *

  Gary Holder’s Journal, July 7th, Year 250, Homesec Reckoning. You know, I’ve heard people talk about ‘lost time.’ Mostly people with psychological trauma, like with multiple personality disorder or post-traumatic stress disorder. Like people coming home from the wars. Maybe this is something like that. I don’t remember anything about yesterday.And today is the last day.

  I guess I do remember something. I remember lying here, all day. I remember seeing Annah’s face in my mind; a face I’d seen filled with laughter, joy, pleasure, even anger and hurt, but never before caused by me. Hurt her? I didn’t think I could.

  Oh, hell. Who am I lying to? Myself, on a page? That’s what love is-at least part of it. It’s knowing that you can hurt, and be hurt by, someone else. Knowing that it’s not only probable, but nearly inevitable. Maybe that’s our test, not only me and A
nnah, but everyone. Knowing that we’ll hurt each other, somehow, sometime, and choosing to believe that the joy we bring into one another’s lives is bigger, more important somehow, than the hurt. Because mainly, it’s not the other people we hurt: it’s ourselves. Choosing to love must be about stepping outside ourselves and our own pain, and deciding that being near someone else is more important than our fear, even our certainty, of getting hurt. It is more important. She is more important. The reason I got so numb, so angry when Shannon left-it wasn’t just because it hurt. I wasn’t just angry at her; I was angry at myself. Because part of me was glad I wasn’t going to have to risk being hurt anymore. Well, I’m not only not afraid of taking that risk again: I want to take it. For Annah.

  “Holder, your thoughts are too loud.” The soft, familiar voice--the words, words only she would think of. Annah’s voice, Holder thought. I have to be dreaming. But I’m not asleep. He looked up; saw Annah standing there, in the clearing at the entrance to the camp, where Goodman had stood-hours?-days?-ago.

  “Beloved,” he said, as if, at this moment, he could call her anything else. “Am I still?” Annah asked. “Your beloved? I broke my promise to you, Holder. I promised you I would never leave you; said I was not like your others. And then I left you, just like them.”

  “Come in, Annah.” He sensed she would go on standing there unless he invited her. “Sit here with me. By our fire.” She did as he asked. She didn’t move too close to him; did not reach out to touch him. Instead, she waited until he reached out for her, but when he did, she went into his arms willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing herself against him like a tree drinking in the sunlight.

  He kissed her gently at first, expecting her to pull away at any moment. But she didn’t. After a few long moments, they broke the kiss, and looked at one another.

  “What made you decide to come now?” Holder asked Annah.

  “As I said, your thoughts are very loud.” She smiled at him. “Last night, they kept me from my sleep. Before that, my own thoughts had kept me from my sleep.”

  “I’m sorry,” Holder said. He stroked Annah’s hand; felt the heat of the energy-fieldher energy-that hummed around her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I should have told you about the ‘marble.’ The weapon. I should have known it would hurt you if I didn’t. And I never should have lied to you. I was going to tell you. I guess I’ve gotten used to running away from fights.”

  “Is that what you are doing now, with Goodman?” She paused. “Yes, I know about it. Ardan told me. My parents told me, too.”

  Holder poked at the fire with a stick, although it was still at full blaze. “I’m not running away. I’m trying to keep you safe. If they come here, looking for me, they’ll kill you. To finish the job they started before, and because Earth hates everything that’s different, now.”

  “Then take me with you,” Annah said. “You’d probably be in even more danger that way,” Holder said. “We’re going to be on the run. This isn’t running from a fight-it is a fight. Mine and Goodman’s fight. They want us to fight a war neither of us believes in, with no real enemy but the very people who want us to go to war. If we get caught, at best, they’ll throw us in jail. At worst, they’ll kill us. And you? Let’s just say, at least Jonan knew you.” Annah shuddered. “I would not let them do that to me.”

  “Sweetheart,” Holder said, “there’ll be a lot more than one of them. You wouldn’t have a chance.”

  “So, after all we have been through—and after my coming back to you—I am never to see you again?”

  Holder hugged Annah tightly. “I will come back, beloved. Unless-unless I don’t make it.”

  “Do not say that.”

  “It’s a fact of war. Some people don’t.”

  “You will come back.” It sounded like a command, one not directed at Holder himself, but at the universe.

  “All right. You’re right. I’ll come back. But hey, even if I don’t—we’ll always have the next lifetime, right?”

  Tears started in Annah’s eyes. “You will come back.”

  “All right. I love you, Annah. That’s never going to change. No matter what anyone says, or what anyone does to me.”

  “I love you too, my dearest. Will you-just hold me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Holder?” Annah asked, after a while.

  He had begun to fall asleep, all his tension gone now, despite the looming spectre of the war.

  “Mmm?”

  “I am glad your thoughts were so loud.”

  Holder laughed.

  * * * “Well,” Goodman said, standing at the entrance to the camp and looking in at Annah and Holder, still wrapped in their blankets. “I see you got things worked out.”

  “Do they have privacy where you’re from, Goodman?” Holder asked, raising his head to squint, bleary-eyed, at him.

  Beside him, Annah stirred, turning from her stomach to her side and wrapping her arms around him, still mostly asleep. “Mmm-Holder, is that Goodman?”

  “Yes, beloved,” Holder said in a hushed voice. “You ought to wake up. He and I need to leave soon.” She opened her eyes; kissed Holder’s cheek. “I am glad to see I did not dream you.” She looked up. “Good morning, Goodman.”

  “Good morning, Annah.” Goodman’s initial smile quickly faded. “I’m sorry. About all of it.” “It is all right. He has explained to me why things must be as they must be. I understand. I hate it, but I understand. The two of you may talk for a bit,” she said, getting up. “I need to—go into the woods for a moment. I will return.”

  “Is she always that formal?” Goodman asked with a smile whenAnnah had disappeared into the trees. “Not always.” Holder grinned. “But yeah, a lot. It’s her way. I’d be careful if I were you. She can probably still hear you.”

  “No, Goodman,” Annah said, emerging from the woods. “I am not always ‘that formal,’ when Holder and I are alone. And perhaps, when I have known you longer, I will be more at ease with you as well.” She smiled at him. “And perhaps not. We will see.”

  Goodman laughed. “Fair enough. Are we ready?”

  Holder sighed. “I’m not likely to get much readier.” “Will you wait just a short time longer?”Annah asked. “My parents, and Ardan and Kyrin, will probably want to say goodbye, too. I will meet you at the ship shortly, whether they accompany me or not.”

  “Okay,” Goodman said. “Come on, Holder. I’ll help you get the stuff you need from your ship over to mine.”

  * * * I have to be strong, Annah thought as she walked with the small band of her people toward the place where Goodman’s ship waited to take Holder away from her for who knew how long. I must remember. Our roots are planted deep. I must remember. And I must be strong—for him.

  So many of them, thought Holder, watching the group of Evoetians approach the place near the Temple of Promise where Goodman’s ship stood. Annah’s parents were there; Ardan, Kyrin, Meri, Moren, and even Serra. There were a few others, as well, whom Holder thought he recognized from the Promising celebration, but couldn’t remember by name. And of course, there was Annah herself.

  “I could not turn them away, dearest,” she said, coming to him and embracing him with a smile. How am I going to live without seeing that smile? Holder thought. Without those eyes? Or her voice-or her touch? “I’m sure that’s true,” he said.

  Llew and Danae stepped forward first. “We wish you did not have to do this, Holder,” Llew said.

  “So do I. It’s the best way I know, though, to keep Annah safe. To keep you all safe.” “We understand,” Danae said. “We have begun to sense some small part of what our daughter means to you. I have something for you, Holder. We made it, Annah and I. But it is from all of us.” Danae brought out a necklace: a cord strung with rounded blue stones, from which was suspended a white stone carved in a spiral shape. She handed it to Annah, who fastened it around Holder’s neck.

  Once the clasp was fastened
, Annah gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “I carved the stones into their shapes,” Annah said, “and Mother strung them on the cord. I could have done it all, of course, but she wanted to help.” Annah smiled.

  “What are they?” Holder asked. “These-” Annah ran her finger over the blue stones-”are called-”she sang a soft three note sequence, rising, falling, then rising again-”‘Tears of the First Ones.’ My people believe that after the First Ones sang Creation into being, they sat on the first shore, when all was still dry land, and they thought of all the possibilities, joyful and sorrowful, that might await their creations, and they wept. And no,” she said, smiling at Holder, “they did not weep enough to bring the great seas and rivers into being, for who could weep that much—but their tears had a life of their own, and multiplied, and thus were born the rivers and the seas. And these stones, the color of the skies, and of the clearest waters, are named in honor of those tears. We believe they are a protection, because they will help one to see calamity before it comes. I hope that they will keep you safe, my dearest.”

  “And the white stone?” This time, Annah sang only a single, sustained note. “It means ‘New Star.’It is sometimes said that on a night when stars fall down from the skies, others grow in their place, like the leaves which are shed from the trees as the seasons pass, and are restored. It means that life renews itself. I give this to you because you have renewed my life, and given me a new, and perhaps my greatest, reason for living. I love you, Holder.”

  Holder wrapped his arms around Annah. “I love you, too. I can’t imagine my life without you anymore. I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can. It might actually be a year, I’m not sure. I hope not.”

  Goodman came from inside the ship, where he’d been loading the last of their supplies. “We need to go, Holder.”

  “Good-man, wait!” Goodman turned, saw a short, round-hipped form coming toward him—and the familiar flash of violet eyes. “Irie.” He smiled, and she smiled back at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I-missed you, Good-man. I have been learning—to speak your words better. So maybe you would like me more.”