World Warden, page 15
In spite of himself, Elias perked up. Phineas was a mountain of a man. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. Phineas smacked me down to the ground, and I kicked him in the face.”
“That’s…. I can’t…. And then what happened?”
“The commander broke up the fight and sent me home. I thought I had flunked the test, that I wouldn’t live up to my father’s dream of me being a member of the Colony Patrol.”
“But…?”
“But a couple of days later the commander showed up at my house and offered me the chance to train with the Patrol. You should’ve seen my dad. He was so happy.”
Elias smiled. “I didn’t know. I thought you got handed your spot with the Patrol.”
“Not at all. I had to work for it. But that’s not important. The point I’m trying to make is that it’s okay to sometimes feel out of it. It’s okay to cry too. It’s your brother’s life on the line, and I understand.”
Elias glanced at his failed sonic amplifier. “I just wanted to know he was okay. But I was terrified I would find out he wasn’t.”
“You can try again tomorrow. And the day after that. Whatever happens, remember this, Elias. It’s not your fault. Dresde would have come after us sooner or later. She doesn’t care about humans at all. There was no way for you to prevent what she did, but there is a way for you to make it right. I think that’s what’s important here.”
“Thanks, Tristan. I feel like I say it all the time now, but I mean it. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Come on, let’s have dinner. You can have that fish thing, and I’ll make myself some ramen.”
That night Elias thought about Oscar before he closed his eyes and tried to remember what Tristan had told him. Tristan’s words allowed him to fall asleep without too much trouble.
Elias’s dreams were troubled even so. He had the distinct sensation that something was there with him. It was watching, and it was not friendly. The thing was lurking, unseen, mouth agape, wanting to devour him with its hideous maw.
Panting, Elias opened his eyes in the darkness. Tristan slept soundly nearby, and Elias could hear the droning huffs of the wurl outside the tent.
It was a dream, he told himself.
He shifted so he would be lying on his right side. After a few moments, his eyes fluttered shut. He began to dream again, but the presence was still there.
Watching. Waiting to strike.
Elias tried using his sonic amplifier the next day, but it was no use. He gave up on it after a few more tries and instead helped Tristan with the boat. They made good progress, and over the next week, Tristan completed the project. He was very creative, thinking outside the box in order to find a solution to the problem of not having any nails, screws, or adhesive of any kind in order to affix the different parts of the vessel to the sturdy frame he had built earlier.
Elias busied himself in the meantime by preparing supplies for the trip. He gathered as much food as he could from the nearby wilderness and packed it neatly in the backpacks they would be carrying with them. At night he practiced his fighting skills with Tristan and played with the wurl. His rest was peaceful for the most part, except for the persistent nightmares he kept having. Elias decided against saying anything, though. He was certain they were a manifestation of his own anxiety, and he supposed the best way to get rid of them was simply to make progress and leave the beach as soon as they could.
The last step in building the boat was waterproofing it, which Elias helped Tristan do one afternoon with thick sap from a plant they had found at the top of the cliff above them. The plant had a gnarly, twisted trunk, and it oozed sap at regular intervals. The sap itself was a deep red, and many insects were trapped on its surface. Elias was not completely certain, but he thought that the plant was probably carnivorous, and it used the sap as a lure in order to catch insects and then digest them. Whatever the case the material was viscous and sticky enough to serve as a binder and waterproofing agent, according to Tristan. It took them a while, but they collected enough sap to coat the underside of the boat. They carried it down carefully and set to work. It was messy, but the sap was wonderfully fragrant. The only downside was that several bugs were attracted to their work and got stuck on the wood.
When they were done, after about four hours of nonstop activity, Tristan and Elias set the finished boat out on the beach with the help of Siv, who was nearby.
“She’s a beauty,” Tristan said.
“I can’t believe you did it. We have a boat!”
The other wurl came over and sniffed the finished boat with curiosity. It was about as long as one of the big reptiles from end to end. Tristan had built it with two seats in the middle and hollow sections to store their gear and other things at either end. He had also made two sets of oars to help them move and steer.
“There’s no sail because I absolutely don’t know how to make one from scratch,” Tristan informed Elias. “I did, however, make three long ropes we can give to the wurl so they can tow the boat in the water. Together with the oars, it should give us plenty of mobility.”
“It’s fantastic.”
“We should let the coating dry. Maybe a couple days. In the meantime, we can begin packing our gear into the boat.”
“That means we’re leaving,” Elias said, looking back at the cave that had been home for over a month.
“Yes. Time to cross the sea.”
Elias spent the better part of the evening packing most of their supplies into the boat. He stashed about half of the rations, the water, and their electronic equipment. He left the other part of the food and most of their outdoor gear near the tent, intending to pack them away the following morning. When he was done, he helped Tristan make dinner.
“I’m breaking out the brownies for this,” Tristan announced, taking out a vacuum-sealed package from the second half of their supplies.
“Agreed,” Elias said cheerfully. “We deserve them.”
They had a feast that night, supplemented with nuts and berries from the nearby plants and bushes, as well as a large yellow fruit with stringy but sweet pulp that Elias had discovered a few days earlier. The wurl appeared to understand something was going on, and they were out hunting for longer than usual. When they returned, they carried a large fish between the three of them, a dark and scaly creature that was almost the size of an adult wurl. It was impossible to cook that much meat, but the wurl didn’t seem to mind. They simply settled down nearby and had their own raw fish feast.
It was a good night. After dinner, Elias and Tristan retreated to their tent and cuddled together. As Elias lay there, his left arm wrapped around Tristan in the sleeping bag they shared, he was filled with energy and a sense of purpose. In just a couple of days they would set out into the unknown. They would finally be on the move, closer to saving Oscar and saving the precious white egg.
Elias fell asleep without really noticing. At first his dreams had no shape—they were fleeting sensations and short flashes of disjointed imagery. There was a rhythmical sound in the distance, something like the waves of the ocean but more insistent. Stronger.
Elias’s dream changed.
He was outside by the cliff. None of the moons were out, and it was very dark. In spite of this, he knew that the ocean was not far, and he wanted to go there.
He took a step. The sand underneath his feet was cold. He could hear the water and the rhythmical cadence of the surf as it came and went. He knew the water would be warm and inviting. Safe.
Another step. Now he was in the water, knee-deep. It was completely dark… and yet there was light.
Floating around his knees Elias saw flickering, ghostly lights of the most beautiful azure blue. When he moved his right leg, the light flashed more brightly. It was as if someone had dropped glowing paint on the surface of the water, glistening and vivid.
Elias reached down with his hands and dipped his fingers in the welcoming water of the ocean. As soon as they touched the surface, the water around them came alive with the same azure glow. It was mesmerizing. Elias traced a wide arc with one of his hands, and it was like painting on a canvas made of mist. His hand left a trail of neon light that flickered and glowed without producing any heat. Curious, Elias cupped some of the water in his hands. It flashed for a moment, but as soon as he brought it up to his face, it went dark. When he let the water fall, the impact of the droplets triggered more bursts of the light.
He looked back where he had come. He saw something he had not before: when the waves broke against the beach, each crest glowed brightly with that same ethereal light. It was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The ocean was dark, but anything that disturbed it made the water glow. It was entrancing and relaxing. Elias felt at ease, and he knew it was the ocean embracing him.
Gently, his attention was turned back toward the ocean depths. He should go there. It would be nice there, in the deep.
He took a step. Another one. The water was suddenly up to his neck.
Another step. It was warm there. He liked it. He would—
Whoosh.
Something flew past Elias’s left ear. Then the unseen projectile struck something soft.
A bestial scream shattered the night.
The beautiful light surrounding him died away, and everything was swallowed by darkness.
Chapter 10. Flying
OSCAR WAS so thankful when the tense meal with Samantha’s family was over that he followed her unquestioningly when she led him from the table and up a short flight of stairs. He was glad to get away from Laurie’s anger, which had been scary up close. He also did not like the way that Nadja kept looking at him, as if analyzing him. With Samantha, at least, he believed he knew what to expect.
“Up there,” Samantha indicated, pointing to a trapdoor in the ceiling and sounding as if she were barking out orders to a soldier. “You will sleep there tonight. You may rest for the remainder of the day, and tomorrow you will accompany me as we go foraging. Make sure to wake up at sunrise.”
“Um, how do I get up there?”
Samantha looked around and frowned. “Right. Let me get the ladder. You wait here.”
She went back downstairs, and Oscar was left standing on a landing that led into a long hallway that extended to his left and right. There were several doors down its length, but most of them were closed. Only three doors were open, the ones closest to the staircase. While he was curious, Oscar decided not to move in case Samantha came back quickly. Instead he simply examined the decrepit-looking wooden walls and ceiling and tried to guess how old everything was. At either end of the hallway, there were windows, but they were shuttered, and very little light came through. As a result, the hallway appeared shadowy and slightly sinister. The trapdoor itself, which was directly overhead, was so well camouflaged in the ceiling that Oscar could only distinguish the ring-shaped handle that dangled from it and nothing else.
The house did not smell musty, despite its evident age. In fact Oscar realized that the floors were very clean, and there was art hung on the walls as well.
Click.
Oscar jumped a little bit, startled. Someone had turned on the lights, and the hallway was immediately transformed from its scary dimness into a surprisingly warm and welcoming area. Since Samantha was taking a while returning, and given the light, Oscar was emboldened enough to walk down the hall and explore a bit. He realized that the artwork on the walls had mostly been made by children. His footsteps creaked as he made his way to the shuttered window, and when he reached it, he peered through a small crack in the wood, looking out into the world. He was able to see the green grass that covered the ruins all around this last remaining structure. On the ground below, he noticed a span of carefully tended ground on which the large solar panel array he’d seen before stood. One of the five panels was cracked, but the remaining ones were all clean and correctly angled to receive the maximum amount of sunlight.
More creaking footsteps on the stairs alerted Oscar to the fact that Samantha was returning, and he hurried back to the landing.
“Here is the ladder,” she said to him, placing it on the floor. It looked sturdy but old. “You can use it to climb.”
She made as if to leave. “Wait!” Oscar said. “What’s up there?”
“Your room,” she answered. “I prepared it earlier today. It used to… it should be sufficient for you.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“I will talk to you tomorrow. Please do not come down if you can help it. Your presence has disturbed my mother enough.”
“Sure.”
Samantha walked back down, and Oscar dithered for a moment before deciding to set the ladder against the wall and climb up. When he was high enough, he reached for the handle and pulled. The trapdoor slid out easily, revealing wooden steps that, although worn, looked reliable enough to lead him up into what he supposed was the attic.
He climbed and emerged into a room that was bigger than he’d expected. He raised the trapdoor behind him, and the steps he had used folded up smoothly. Now alone in the room, Oscar took a big breath and let it out slowly like he’d learned to do. He realized he was shaking a little bit with a mixture of nervousness and relief. He took a couple of steps back until he stumbled on something that turned out to be a bed. He sat down on it carefully, marveling at its softness. After days and days of sleeping on the hard-packed ground, it was a minor miracle to feel the gentle support of a mattress under his body.
He lay down on the bed and stretched, wincing slightly because of his shoulder. He let tension drain away from his muscles and closed his eyes.
He fell asleep almost immediately. He woke up disoriented and stared with puzzlement into the deep shadows that surrounded him. Then everything fell back into place, and he realized he was still in the attic. Oscar yawned, sitting up on the bed and feeling wonderfully rested. He had not even undressed, but he could not remember having had a better nap in his life. He tapped on his link, curious about the time.
Wow, midnight. I slept the entire afternoon.
He stood up and stretched again. It was dark in the room now, and he had to use the flashlight on his link to locate the light switch. He flicked it, half expecting it not to work. However, a yellow lightbulb overhead blinked to life immediately.
Oscar studied the room for a few minutes. It was a cozy space, kept tidy and clean. There was a closet across from him, a desk with its chair, and a very big window that had been completely boarded up. The floor was adorned with a rug that also came from the Ionas, and when Oscar stood up to walk on it with bare feet, he realized it was still very soft, even after more than a century.
Next to the closet stood a guitar, along with a notebook, which Oscar did not touch. All in all, Oscar got the distinct impression that this was a welcoming space, safe. He wondered whether this was Samantha’s room, and he was surprised at how nice of her it had been to prepare the room so he would be comfortable. He took a couple more steps in the direction of the boarded-up window, and it was then that he discovered the last items in the room.
Spears. Long and sharpened to wicked points. They appeared to have been made from yult wood, and there were three of them, two as long as Oscar was tall. The last one was broken, and even though the wood was black, Oscar could still tell that one of its points had a thick rust coating that could have been either paint or dried blood. Immediately behind the spears, a conspicuous wooden board covered part of the wall. Oscar gave in to his curiosity and removed it carefully. He did not find a secret compartment or a valuable relic behind it—only the original wall of the attic. But there were three parallel gouge marks on it, coal-black, as if the wood had been burned with a red-hot iron.
Oscar placed the board back where he’d found it and walked to the trapdoor again. He needed to go to the bathroom, but Samantha had said to stay put. He waited for a bit and set an alarm for sunrise the next morning. However, the call of nature won out in the end, and Oscar pushed the trapdoor so the steps would extend down into the hallway. He climbed down and then made his way to ground level, tiptoeing so he wouldn’t disturb anyone. Thankfully, the dining room and kitchen were both empty, and he sneaked out of the building until he found the outhouse. He walked back to the front door after washing his hands, and he was about to come inside when he heard voices nearby.
Oscar hesitated, but the voices sounded furtive, almost suspicious, and he walked carefully along the façade of the building until he reached the corner and could peek out from behind it at the space where the solar panels were arranged. Despite the late hour, moonlight enabled him to see the four figures sitting cross-legged in a rough circle as they quietly spoke.
“It is too dangerous,” one of the voices said. Oscar realized it was Nadja. “The risk is too high.”
“I can do it, Oma,” Samantha said. Even though she spoke softly, Oscar could hear the vehemence in her voice. “I can move fast. Doran will be there to take me.”
“He will never go against her,” Laurie interjected. “You would have to get there on your own.”
“I know the way,” Samantha countered. “I can get there on foot if need be.”
“She would see. She would know,” Nadja replied, sounding sad. She placed her hand on the fourth figure, who Oscar guessed was Ute.
“So?” Samantha asked, defiant. “I do not fear death. I would rather die trying to find my freedom than live this way for the rest of my days.”
Nadja shook her head slowly. “It is not your death I fear, Sam. It is what might happen if she does not kill you.”
