When Darkness Begins

by Tina O’Hailey

Alexander looked over his handiwork. The marble bathroom and bedroom extension gleamed. Tired from the effort, he would have to feed soon and rest before returning to Brandy. Before he returned to her, he would heat a cauldron of water and fill the claw-foot tub. How out of place it all looked here in his time before modern amenities. This house would crumble to dust in a few hundred years and disappear into oblivion. He had no concern since he inhabited the house mostly in his frozen moment. These scant few months he had spent synced with time and Brandy had been the only moments he had witnessed the house at all as it sat through the weather. He was happy his work on the house held and he had made the dwelling sturdy.

  Alexander wondered if she would accept him and his story of who he was. What a Vechey was. What a Linear was. He closed the door and walked through the long corridor towards the front porch where Brandy would be falling. He hoped she would not reject him. A portrait hanging on the wall caused him to pause.

  Catha. It had taken him a thousand years to paint this first portrait and hang it on the wall though it hurt him every time he looked at it. They had held such hope for their future together. He smiled at the memories he had of her. A shell with its double square engraving sat encased at the bottom of the frame in a glass box. Next to it, a gleaming polished stone and a small engraved rock.

  So long ago, Alexander thought to himself, so very long ago.

  15 PROMISED

  Catha had known for a while she would not pass the ritual. It was impossible. She watched as the other Vechey children her age played hide and seek through time to help sharpen their time syncing abilities and stretch their skill of seeing. She saw little. Otski and Ygolz jumped through time with ease. Aithagg: he hid it, but he saw further than any of them. He kept distant from everyone, never sharing much, not showing his capabilities. He was unlike Otski, who boasted at everything he did. She noticed, Aithagg would even set Otski up to win. He would pull back and let Otski win at hide and seek, or other games they played so Otski could boast. Aithagg did not need the win. He was content in knowing he was able to but did not. She doubted her reasons for loving him even though she loved him more for that simple character trait. Catha thought long and hard about why she had stayed close to him. Perhaps it was the way he propped her up. He saw the good in people and believed in them. That was something she had never experienced with her parents. She understood the draw towards someone that gave her a feeling she had not known. Is that love? Is that something that could sustain for an eternity? That is if she made it through the ritual, something she doubted very much.

  So many of her siblings had not made it through the ritual. So many that her parent ignored her, treated her as if she were already dead. She did not fault them for it. They had built up a wall around themselves to avoid the pain of losing another child. Her lonely heart broke. Why did they continue to come back to the home-time and procreate if they doubted the child would live? Then, they did not love the child even for the short time they were here? Why? She took a deep breath, reusing to fuel the anger brewing in her lest it blossom into deep and eternal bitterness.

  Catha didn’t understand her parents. They had all of eternity with each other in their own frozen-time far away from here. They had traveled far from the ritual site. Her father, in the rare times he spoke more than a grunt, spoke of how they had traveled across the mountains, sleeping temporarily in caves until they came to the far northwest. There they synced into their place and time together. Their cave overlooked a large valley and their time was nearly at main-time. He missed it. He longed for the quiet.

  Catha understood the longing for quiet. She often secreted away in the day, so she might enjoy peace with her own thoughts. She could be herself with Aithagg. He was like a safe, warm blanket. He did not look at her as a failed Vechey. He saw more in her than she thought existed. She had tried to run from everything and he had followed her. He had tried his best to find a way through the ritual for her. Perhaps they would work, perhaps not. Either way, she decided to not run from her potentially short life. She would own who she was. So what if she was not showing all the traits of a Vechey? So what if she might not be strong enough to see through time, to survive the ritual?

  She refused to adopt her parent’s outlook on life. She would return the hope Aithagg gave her. She would give everyone else that same hope. She had nothing to offer, she thought. She could not hunt well for the food the small ones needed. She could not move silently and could not see the through time as the hunters did. They found the prey so easily.

  Instead, for many years she walked during the day to find beautiful plants. Her favorite memory was finding a vast field of purple flowers. She had spent nearly the whole day walking amongst them and carefully taking cuttings to cultivate in her growing garden. Though she did not think about it, she seemed drawn to where the most amazing blossoms were. She would find fruit budding on small trees, berries on vines, flowers in bushes. For many winters she had brought back cutting after cutting and established a garden near the cave’s main entrance; the cave system itself had multiple entrances. Here she would enjoy trimming, cutting, grafting, testing, seeing what made the plants grow and harvesting the fruits and vegetables. Since she did not feed as a Vechey, this was a great benefit to her and to the children as well who had not yet learned to feed. It made her happy, and many turned a blind eye to it knowing she must walk in the day to tend to her garden.

  She had woken up early one evening before the sunset to harvest a crop of blackberries. There remained plants untaxed by the local wildlife. She wanted to bring them back for the small ones. She filled a basket she had weaved from pine needles and wet branches. The sun painted the sky with brilliant pinks and oranges giving away to deep purples. She sat on a nearby rock, the basket of berries in her lap, and enjoyed the sun as it left.

  “Found you,” Aithagg whispered from behind her.

  She turned to see him approach. He had wrapped himself in furs completely from head to toe, not one inch of skin was visible.

  “That is brave for you to come out here like that. How did you know it would work?” She scooted over leaving a room for him to sit next to her on the rock.

  “I questioned Eterili until she answered me about the sun.” Aithagg sat next to her and leaned against her shoulder.

  “Of course you did.” She leaned against him.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” He gestured with a fur-covered hand.

  “Well, I did not ask Eterili about it.” She smiled. “When I was very young, I picked a flower to give to my mother. I grabbed the roots and everything. I wanted her to have a flower.”

  “Did she take it?”

  “She did. She told me to leave the roots in the ground next time so the flower might continue to grow more.” Catha snaked her arm under the furs, careful to not expose Aithagg’s skin, and found his hand to hold. “That got me to wondering if they would grow if I replanted the roots. So I did. And it bloomed.”

  “I do not think about plants much.”

  “Most of us do not. I looked for the pretty ones first and then found the ones Eterili had said were safe for the young ones to eat. Why not have our own crops here instead of having to travel out to find them?”

  “True.”

  “It keeps me busy.”

  “Indeed.”

  They sat in silence for a while and the sun set. After the last light had faded from the sky, Aithagg shed his fur armor.

  “That is better.” He smiled in relief.

  “We will need to get back soon.” She looked over her shoulder. “Will your parents not look for you?”

  “Not really.” He shrugged. “My mother knows where I am at all times whether or not I tell her. It is like she can see through time or something and find all my com
ings and goings.”

  “Something like that, I suppose,” she answered.

  The silence filled the air around them and they enjoyed watching the stars light up the sky one by one.

  Catha finally turned to Aithagg and handed a small wrapped present to him. She had made the wrapping from woven plant leaves and tied it with a rope braided from long grass blades. Flowers adorned the top.

  Aithagg turned the beautiful package over in his hands. “I have never seen anything like this.”

  “I made the wrapping.” She beamed from ear to ear. “Open it. It is my promise gift to you.”

  He kissed the top of her forehead and looked at the box again, unsure of how to begin.

  Catha tugged on a loose strand which tied the package together. It unfurled the wrapping. Inside was a deep garnet gemstone. It was smooth and polished. The stars reflected across the surface.

  “I made a rock pool in the waterfall and put the gem there. It rolled and tumbled until it became smooth!” She picked it up and turned the gemstone in the starlight. It fit into the small of her hand.

  “How long did it take?”

  “About three moons.”

  He paused and looked at her, mentally calculating. “That is before I gave you the shell. That sad excuse for a promise gift.”

  She patted his arm. “It is the perfect gift and you know the reasons.”

  He took the gem from her and held it between his eye and the moon. “This is amazing. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He looked into her eyes. “Not as beautiful as you.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “That is a tired line.” She kissed him quickly. “But say it again.”

  “Not.” He placed a hand behind her neck and gently caressed her cheek with his thumb.

  “As.” Aithagg placed his other hand behind the small of her back and turned her towards him. The gem carefully held between their hands.

  “Beautiful.” He leaned in close and looked deeply into her eyes.

  “As you.” His lips met hers with deep passion.

  A bounding bunch of youngsters interrupted when they ran by yelling and scrabbling towards parts unknown. The two teens watched the children run by and then their chaperones after them.

  “We will come back and have children of our own and raise them here,” Aithagg said.

  She smiled sadly, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I do not know. I would hope that we do.” She frowned even more. “But.”

  “Do not think it. Do not go down the path of disbelief.” He tried to make his voice gentle and did not add for her not to think like her mother, which would be cruel. “It could happen. Imagine how wonderful that would be.”

  She nodded and joined in with his reverie. “You could teach them how to take the bark from a tree and create benches from it, or tables, or boxes or all the things you and your father have done with wood.”

  He smiled. “You could teach them how to grow things. Flowers and plants and fruits and things for the animals to feed on.”

  She darkened for a moment.

  He added, “And the young ones. But I am thinking of our eternity where we do not need the fruit and food, really. That is no reason to not have it. You can grow all types and all the beings that eat of it will be better for your garden.”

  “Such smooth talking,” she chided.

  Aithagg chuckled and pulled her closer to him.

  The night sang its music to them via croaking frogs and chirping grasshoppers. A nearby coyote howled.

  “What will we do for all of eternity?” she whispered.

  “I do not know that it is all of eternity,” Aithagg answered quietly. “Only Eterili is as old as the world.” He pulled her head under his chin. “True, those that make it through the ritual are all here today, mostly; those that do not go the way of madness. Hardly any of us die like we see the Linears and animals do. But I do not think it means we do not die.”

  “You ruin good moments. I meant—”

  Aithagg cut off her words. “I know what you mean. And I think too much. Brood too much. Mother calls me an old soul.” He hugged her tightly. “I apologize.”

  “Do not.”

  “I do.”

  “You should not.”

  “Why?”

  “You accept me as I am. As I do you,” she whispered.

  Aithagg had no answer to this, and they fell into silence again. The stars shifted in the sky above them.

  “We should join the others at the fire ring. Perhaps the elders will tell their stories. I like to hear them.” Aithagg helped her stand.

  Together they walked hand in hand towards the fire.

  ***

  The usual group was around the fire pit. The elders were there telling stories and keeping the younger ones entertained.

  “How long have you been here?” Aithagg asked the elder D’olr.

  The “older” man, who looked like a Linear would after sixty moons, was carving a small deer out of a piece of wood. He held the sharpened rock at the ready for another go at the deer’s antlers.

  “I have returned to home-time after each one of my youngsters passed through the ritual about one hundred times. One hundred and fifteen winters, I believe. When not here, I have been back at my frozen-time protecting the time there. I go back every other moon or so to make sure things are not going too badly for the area. Of course, I could feel it from here if it were.” He whittled at the deer’s antlers a bit and then inspected the hooves. “It is not a daily war, as Eterili likes to make everyone believe. It depends on the area, the Manipulator, or Manipulators around the area. If there are Linears nearby. If the area is important to the flow of time. Some places are not.”

  Aithagg settled next to the old man. Once he began talking, he would talk until the sun came up the next morning.

  “I remember when I was your age. I was full of dreams and energy and the power of the Vechey. Stay curious to have lasting power though. The madness. It took my brother, sad way to go. He did not come back for the raising of offspring even though he had a promised one with him. She was lovely. R’einla.”

  “Was?” Catha asked, curious.

  “Oh, yes. She was lovely. We grew up together. My brother and I were twins. You see. Born at the same time. Well, I was two minutes earlier. Very rare for our kind. Difficult on the mother. R’einla, she blazed like the sun when she was a child. Crazy red hair that no one had seen before.” The elder handed the deer to Catha, and she accepted it. He reached into his large front pocket and pulled out another half completed deer. He began to whittle again. “She only had eyes for my brother and I could not compete. They were promised and went off to the ritual as so many of us do.”

  He eyed the young Vechey with a wiggle of his eyebrow. “I suppose as you two will do too.” He continued before they protested, “but it wasn’t but two thousand winters that had gone by and my brother began to get disinterested in the Vechey way.”

  He stopped and took a particular interest in the eyes of the carving in his hands for a moment. His hands made short work of it and when he turned the deer over its eyes stared. “She came back to visit during one of the mating cycles, just to see my promised one, Fruana. They were friends growing up too, you know. Well, she started coming back more and talking about my brother. She needed comforting and guidance. What could we do?”

  Aithagg interrupted with a question, “Did Eterili go see him?”

  “Yes, she did.” The man looked at Aithagg in surprise. “She visits us from time to time out there. Checking on her flock. We visit each other too. We do not stay in solitude. S
ome do. I suppose. Not all of us. But many of us. We are bad at time and given how we are all stretched out across the times—it is difficult to find everyone and pay attention to when you are visiting people. It is odd, all of time in our hands and we are bad at keeping track of it. After being out of sync with it—time does not mean very much. It is not something we keep track of after a while. Well, maybe some do. I try not to.”

  He fell oddly silent for a moment and began to whittle away.

  Aithagg and Catha sat by his side and watched. D’olr picked up his story after a few moments had passed.

  “It was a sad day. We do not discuss what happens to Vechey that die before their time. We recover from most injuries that are inflicted upon us. Cut our arm off, it can be reattached. Even mangled it will heal. Break our bones. They mend quickly. Rip our skin. It heals. Most all injuries, if they occur, can be healed with a day’s rest. But the one true-death is to sever our heads from our spines. That happened to her, my brother’s promised one.”

  He dropped the whittling in his lap for a moment, forgotten. “I did fancy her. Loved her even. She did not have eyes for me. I would not tell Fruana, my promised one. Of course, I am not stupid. R’einla was Fruana’s best friend, so she probably suspected so. It was a Linear that killed R’einla and we do not talk often of that happening either. My brother could change time. He could fix it. But he does not. Eterili, I could go fix it but what would that do for her? She would return to a Vechey who does not want her. Of course, Eterili would have my fangs for thinking of changing time to fit my needs. That is not allowed. It is not the way.” The old man looked at them both pointedly.

  Catha encouraged him to finish the story. “What happened to her?”

  “Oh.” He picked up his whittling again. “She was a very curious sort, and usually that does good, but on this one instance she had followed a Linear to watch her. I do not know what she was so curious about. Perhaps the Linear was tanning a hide differently or painting something. I have no idea. Something a Linear was doing had caught her eye and R’einla followed her to see what it was. We all do that. Learn that way. R’einla must have been very excited by what she saw and wanted to get a closer look. That is dangerous. She slipped into main-time with the Linear. Well, that did not go over well and before she could fix her mistake and sync back out of that time the Linear’s keeper cleaved her head from her shoulders as neat as day with a large hand axe. They tried to put the head on a pole outside of their tribe’s area but it burst into flames once the sun came out. I am sure that fueled their fire tales for generations to come. I could never bear to go look. She died there and we could all change it but it is not the way.”