Red Queen

by Christopher Pike

  “That’s a great line.” I chuckled. “But I suppose it’s true.”

  Kendor’s idea of a short walk was not the same as mine. We hiked at least two miles and much of it was on a steep incline. He walked fast; I panted in his wake. It wasn’t the exercise, it was the heat. Yet it was worth it. Suddenly the bleak terrain of sandy dirt, piles of rocks, and tumbleweeds opened into a round granite bowl that held a delicious blue-green pond. There was even a small waterfall at the far end.

  “It’s beautiful!” I gasped.

  Kendor was pleased at my reaction. “It’s fed by an underground stream. The water level rises three to five feet in the cooler months, but otherwise remains constant.”

  “I don’t see any footprints or litter. Does anyone else know about this place?”

  “I’ve never run into anyone recently in this area. But the Paleo-Indians used to come here centuries ago. They considered it a sacred spot. Come, let’s hike down to the water. I’ll show you a wall of their petroglyphs.”

  “Just how long ago did you and the Paleo used to hang out?” I asked as I trailed behind him. It was a joy simply to watch him walk. He moved with such fluid grace and never seemed to tire. He laughed at my question.

  “You want to know how old I am,” he said.

  “Of course. But I’m also wondering if you were coming here before Columbus discovered America.”

  “Plenty of people ‘discovered’ America before Columbus. But fear not, I’ll give you a review of my life story after our swim.”

  “Assuming I agree to go skinny-dipping with you.”

  “You have my word as a gentleman that I won’t lay a finger on you.”

  “Do you promise not to look?”

  He smiled. “You would be insulted if I didn’t.”

  I couldn’t argue. He was right.

  The petroglyphs were confined to a wall hidden behind the waterfall. There were dozens of beautiful and complex symbols, as well as thousands of ancient words etched in a remarkably hypnotic script. I asked if Kendor could translate the language for me. For the first time since we had met, he hesitated.

  “I can. But understand, the Paleo didn’t invent this script. It was taught them by a man I met the day I discovered who I was.”

  “Was this man a witch?”

  “I’m not sure what he was. He called himself the Alchemist.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “That’s part of the story I hope to tell. But you’re hot. Let’s swim first and cool off.”

  “Great,” I said, having to put my curiosity on hold, never an easy task for me. Kendor was right, however, the sun had made me light-headed, and I was anxious to get in the water. I no longer cared that I didn’t have a suit. There had been no need for Kendor to give his gentleman promises. I liked to think I was pretty hot shit but I knew he had seen far better in his time.

  We stripped and dove in. With the desert sun, I expected the water temperature to be in the high eighties. It was closer to the low seventies and my heart skipped a beat when I first went under. But after swimming a few laps across the pond—it was at least four times the length of an Olympic swimming pool—I wouldn’t have traded the cold for anything. I felt incredibly rejuvenated, especially after I followed Kendor’s advice and drank from the lake.

  “What’s this water got in it?” I asked as we crossed in the middle. Kendor’s naked body was distracting. He was so damn handsome.

  “Power,” he said, splashing me.

  “Really?”

  “You feel it, don’t you?”

  “Yes. But what is it? Where does it come from?”

  “It’s the power of all the elements of nature come together in one spot. The Paleo recognized it but felt no need to explain it any further.”

  I took that as a hint to quit asking so many questions.

  We swam for half an hour and when we were through, we both slipped on our underwear but left the rest of our clothing spread out on the boulders. We sat in the shade near the waterfall. Indeed, the entire rocky bowl was covered in shadows and I knew sunset was not far off.

  Kendor asked where I wanted him to start his story.

  “In the beginning,” I said.

  “I was born a Celt in England, in approximately 3000 BC. And yes, I know, your books say the Celts didn’t appear in that part of the world until 500 BC. But I was there and your historians weren’t, so trust me. This was many centuries before the Romans appeared on our southern shores. My clan, the Tyenna, were situated in what is now Dover. You probably know it for its famous white cliffs but it’s also the UK’s closest geographical point to continental Europe. Later, I often asked myself why it took me so long to cross the English Channel.”

  “But you couldn’t see land across the water, could you?”

  “After I became a witch I could,” Kendor said.

  “Skip to that point. How did you get connected?”

  “On the surface, my death and rebirth were unremarkable. I was twenty when a devastating winter struck our clan. The snow came early and never left. By April our numbers had been cut in half. Myself, I had lost a third of my body weight and two of my four children had already perished.”

  “You were married?”

  “In the manner of the times. Her name was Nanar and I loved her dearly. It broke her heart to lose our two boys and I was determined that our daughters would not suffer the same fate. That’s how I ended up fishing on a frozen lake not far from camp. It was late at night and I had a fire going. You might think that careless of me, to burn wood in such a precarious spot, but the ice was so thick I couldn’t reach the water beneath it without the fire. And it was bitter cold, I needed its warmth just to stay alive.

  “A faint yellow light had touched the eastern sky when I began to collect my goods and return home. My expedition had been a success. I’d caught four large fish, enough to feed my family for a week. I remember how delighted I was, imagining how pleased Nanar would be when she saw the fresh food.

  “At some point I must have grown careless and stepped too close to the edge of the ice. In those days one false step was all it took to leave this world. The ice broke from my weight and I fell in the water. The lake wasn’t large, there shouldn’t have been a current. It was probably my frantic thrashing that pushed me away from my fishing hole. All I knew was that I could see a faint red light twenty feet off to my right, and that I was colder than I had ever been in my life.

  “My only hope was to get back to the opening. But as I swam toward it, I felt the life draining from my arms and legs. I panicked and drew in a breath, the worst thing I could have done. Now I was freezing to death and drowning. Still, I fought my way toward the red light. I couldn’t see the hole but I knew it must be close to the fire. It was my only chance, not that I had much hope left. But there was a part of me that refused to give up, even as I began to sink down. And that part seemed to kindle a fire deep inside my solar plexus.”

  “I’ve had that!” I cried.

  Kendor reached over and patted my leg affectionately. “I know, Jessie. I understand everything you went through while in that meat locker, and afterward. That’s one of the reasons I’m telling you this story. My internal heat blazed through my arms and legs. Soon I could feel my fingers and toes again, and I swam toward the red light. As I broke the surface, my first breath of fresh air was heavenly. I thought I was saved.

  “But climbing out of a frozen lake isn’t a matter of strength. It requires more skill than anything else. The edge kept breaking on me, I kept slipping back into the water. Soon my newfound strength began to wane and I started to go back under. It was then a powerful hand reached down and pulled me out.

  “For a long time I was too exhausted to even look at my benefactor. I just lay on the ice near the dying fire and stared up at the fading stars. At some point I think I passed out. Looking back, I know I must have died. The next thing I was sure of, the sun was high in the sky and a man with a long beard was sitting
beside me. He wore a dark red robe and I knew without asking that he was the one who had saved me.”

  “Was it the Alchemist?” I asked.

  “Yes. But he didn’t tell me his name then.”

  “Who was he? Where did he come from?”

  Kendor hesitated. “No one knows. He came for me then, and saved me, and for that I owed him my life. But it seemed he wanted nothing in return. When he saw I was alive, he nodded to himself and walked off. I didn’t see him again for three thousand years.”

  “But that’s how you became connected?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell anyone that you’d changed?”

  Kendor frowned. “I told my brother, Jasper—we were close and he knew how to keep a secret. Unfortunately, the changes slipped out without us speaking. Other clan members soon noticed my strength and speed, and grew frightened of me. It didn’t matter that I only used my abilities to help feed those around me. Death is not as threatening to most people as the fear of the supernatural. It wasn’t long before Nanar and my girls and I were driven from the Tyenna camp.”

  “What about Jasper?” I asked.

  “He was killed trying to defend me. It happened the day we were expelled. I wasn’t with him at the time, and I later avenged his death, killing all of the men who participated in his murder. But whoever coined the phrase that revenge is a dish best served cold has never lost a loving brother. Vengeance is no better than drinking ice water in winter.”

  “Did either of your daughters inherit your powers?”

  “Tabby did. She awakened them by accident, when she fell from a peak and broke every bone in her body. She was sixteen at the time. Naturally, her mother was stunned when she recovered. But in my heart I knew Tabby was like me, and that dying was the key to stirring the magic. For that’s how it seemed to us, that we’d been gifted with some strange powers that the gods had bestowed on us for reasons of their own.”

  “What gods did you believe in?” I asked.

  “We had so many in those days. Their names don’t matter.”

  “Did Nanar feel the same way?”

  “Nanar was grateful for my gifts. They had allowed us to survive harsh winters. And of course she was overjoyed when Tabby was healed. But when Tabby and I didn’t age, and she and Clara did, then my wife began to feel our powers were a curse.”

  “Why?”

  Kendor stared at me. “Think how it will be if you never age but Jimmy does.”

  “But I have the gift of healing. I can keep him young.”

  “Did your father tell you that? He shouldn’t have. Yes, it’s possible you’ll be able to prolong his life and cure him of most illnesses. But if he lives two centuries, he’ll still grow old.” Kendor paused. “And one day you’ll bury him.”

  It was hard for me to reply. I couldn’t imagine being with Jimmy so long and then losing him. “Is that what happened with Nanar?” I asked.

  “I lost Nanar when she was eighty-eight. Yet my words don’t convey what really happened.”

  “Because you lost her long before that?” I said.

  “I remained a young man, and Tabby never aged. But Nanar grew old and wrinkled, as did Clara. I would have given my life to trade places with them but I couldn’t. And so I finally learned the bitter half of what it meant to be a witch.”

  “May I ask? Is Tabby alive?”

  He shook his head. “I’d rather not talk about that.”

  “What would you like to talk about?” I asked carefully.

  “Let’s return to the Battle of Alesia and Caesar. You’ll see why when I finish. It was an important time for the fledgling republic and I use the word ‘fledgling’ deliberately. Rome was still in danger of being destroyed before it could begin to approach its potential. In the decade prior to Alesia, with my help, Caesar had largely pacified Gaul, and he was considering a return to Rome. But the Gallic tribes gathered during 53 BC for a crucial meeting. They realized that only by uniting their many tribes could they achieve independence from Rome. They declared the ruthless Vercingetorix of the Averni tribe their commander and put the bulk of the Gallic armies under his control.

  “We were unaware of this alliance. It caught us completely off guard. The first sign of trouble came from what is now the city of Orléans in France. All the Roman settlers were killed. This was followed by the slaughtering of all Roman citizens, merchants and settlers in the major Gallic cities. On hearing this news, Caesar rallied our army in haste and we crossed the Alps into what you would call France. That in itself was a mighty deed—the Alps were buried in snow. Caesar accomplished the trip in record time and we were able to surprise the Gallic tribes. Caesar then split our forces, sending four legions into the north after three major Gallic armies, while we set out in pursuit of Vercingetorix with five legions. Caesar succeeded in scattering his armies but in the summer of 52 BC, Vercingetorix managed to reach the fort of Alesia.”

  “What was so special about it?” I asked, wondering why he was going into such detail.

  “It was on a hilltop, surrounded by numerous river valleys, which gave it strong defensive features. Vercingetorix had eighty thousand men to our twenty thousand. A frontal assault would have been hopeless so Caesar decided upon a siege. He hoped to force a surrender by starvation. The idea was brutal but strategically sound. Besides his warriors, Vercingetorix had the local civilian population to feed.

  “To guarantee a sturdy blockade, we built an encircling set of fortifications—called a circumvallation—around Alesia. That’s one thing you can read about in your books. Eighteen kilometers of four-meter-high fortifications were constructed in a month. The line was surrounded by ditches. They were virtually impossible to cross.

  “But Vercingetorix was a sly devil. He managed to slip a detachment of cavalry through an unfinished section. This was a major blow to our plans. Now we had to worry that reinforcements would be sent. Anticipating such a relief force, Caesar ordered the construction of a second line of fortifications, which was called the contravallation. It faced outward and stood between our army and the first set of walls we had erected. It was designed to protect us when the Gallic relief forces arrived. For us, the fighting soldiers, the irony was painful. We, the besiegers, were preparing to be besieged.

  “Inside Alesia, things went from bad to worse. Too many people were crowded inside the plateau, competing for too little food. Vercingetorix decided to expel the women and children from the citadel, hoping to save food for the fighters and praying that Caesar would show mercy and open a breach in our line and let them go. But Caesar issued orders that nothing was to be done for the civilians. The women and children were left to starve in a no-man’s-land between the city walls and the circumvallation.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said. “How can you say he was a great man? He could have let the women and children go.”

  Kendor shook his head. “This is something you need to hear. You want heroes who only perform noble acts. But the greatest heroes often make the most bitter decisions. Caesar knew if we took down even a small portion of our wall, Vercingetorix would use the opportunity to destroy our lines.”

  “So you just stood idly by and watched them all die?”

  “Caesar watched. Day and night he listened to their weeping. For him, it was a form of penance. Nevertheless, he knew what he was doing was right. He was protecting his men.”

  “Why tell me so much about this battle? It just makes me sick.”

  “Because eventually you’ll be called upon to make similar decisions.”

  “How do you know? You can’t see my future.”

  Kendor spoke softly. “I can see inside your heart.”

  “That’s insane. We just met.”

  “You’re mistaken. I was the principal protector of Lara in witch world. During that week we spent together, I got to know you well. We had many private talks.”

  “I’m glad. But I’ve heard enough about this battle. Let’s talk about something else. Let
’s talk about the Alchemist.”

  “I was just about to come to him.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’s connected to Alesia. Let me continue. The women and children all died. The summer came to an end and on October second, the Gallic relief effort finally arrived, led by Vercassivellaunus, a cousin of Vercingetorix. He launched a massive attack with sixty thousand men, while Vercingetorix attacked with his soldiers from inside the fort. We were caught between a hammer and an anvil. We didn’t stand a chance. Yet you can read in your history books how Caesar somehow, miraculously, rallied his troops and defeated the enemy. But historians have struggled with that battle to this day. Because how do a hundred and forty thousand men lose to twenty thousand? The answer is simple. They don’t.”

  “I assume the Alchemist did something?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  Kendor’s gaze was suddenly far off. “He came one week before the Gallic relief forces arrived. I was alone in my tent at night but couldn’t sleep because of the stink of the rotting bodies on the other side of the line. The air was hot and humid. I lay there wondering how much longer we could go on, when suddenly he stood at the opening to my tent. I recognized him, of course, but I leaped up with my sword. In those days it seldom paid to trust a stranger.”

  “What did he want?” I asked.

  “He said he had come to help. I asked him how and he spoke about a black powder we could produce that would allow us to kill a hundred men with one catapult. I thought the idea ridiculous but he insisted I grab a torch and follow him to a cave miles from our camp. There the walls were heavy with deposits of guano.”

  “Guano?”

  “Bat feces. It had built up over centuries and crystallized. Today a chemist would recognize the material as a perfect source of potassium nitrate. Back then we called it saltpeter or stone salt. The Alchemist had me collect several large bags. By then the sun had risen and he led me to a deposit of sulfur. To me it was just a yellow powder that stank. When we finally returned to camp, he ordered me to bring him a bag of coal, which he ground into a fine powder with a hammer.”