The Defector

by J. C. Andrijeski

  The current group was now bigger than any Revik had yet seen.

  He didn’t know who all of these seers were, but they all felt like Adhipan or Seven to him now. He no longer felt that distinct flavor of the seers who had come specifically to guard Kali, Uye and their child, the ones who finally got the Org seers to back off.

  He did see more he thought he recognized from the Seven’s Guard now––meaning Vash’s people, the infiltrators who operated directly out of Seertown, and primarily defended the Council and the seers who lived in the Himalayas.

  Revik fought not to look for Dalejem’s face in that crowd.

  He hadn’t seen him since that morning, when he’d crawled out of the tent while the other seer was still asleep.

  Revik had barely slept himself.

  He found himself lying there for hours, staring up at the dark ceiling of the tent. When he found he couldn’t stand lying there anymore, he’d gone for a walk in the jungle in the hours before dawn, culminating in him watching the sun come up from a hill not far from the hill where Kali’s people had camped.

  He felt pings to his light a few times while he sat there.

  Some of those were questions.

  Some were pleas.

  Dalejem wondering where he was. Dalejem wanting him.

  Dalejem asking him to come back.

  Revik blocked it all out.

  He didn’t answer him, and eventually, the questions stopped.

  When he came back to the camp for breakfast, an hour or so later, he didn’t see the green-eyed seer anywhere. He also didn’t find him in the tent they’d been sharing, which looked more or less how Revik remembered it looking.

  Now, however, standing in the crowd of other seers, he wondered about that, too.

  He scanned through his memories, trying to decide if things had been missing from that tent, if he’d deliberately not looked very closely.

  For the same reason, his focus remained elsewhere for most of Balidor’s speech.

  He still heard snippets.

  He heard most of it truthfully, but also filed the majority of those words away in the back of his mind, listening without fully comprehending as he started to look for Dalejem in earnest, if still discreetly. Balidor’s words formed a kind of backdrop as he scanned the crowd for Dalejem’s face, cataloguing the features around him.

  …have been asked to split our forces, following our break of the camp here, Balidor sent, his tone businesslike inside the construct dome.

  …We have been asked by the Council, in particular by Father Vash, to expend at least some of our resources to try and learn more about this force from the south, since they do not appear to be affiliated with SCARB or the regular Org hierarchy. The rest of us will be joining our brothers and sisters back in Asia, so as not to alert the Org to the movements of sister Kali and her husband and child. She and her mate say they are well-fortified now, and by those who know well how to keep her safe, and out of view...

  Revik watched a colorful bird where it alighted on a nearby palm tree.

  It called out a musical string of notes, and another bird, from deeper inside the jungle, answered it, repeating those same notes back.

  The pain in Revik’s chest returned as he listened, a low, dull throb under his ribs.

  …I am sorry I could not tell any of you this earlier, Balidor sent somberly into the construct. But we are losing one of our brothers on this day. For reasons of security, we could not announce his departure until now. But know that it is his wish that it be so, and that it is a higher calling to which he has been sent. I know many of you will still be grieved to see him go.

  Revik flinched, expecting to hear his name.

  He had already been told what his fate would be.

  Ironically, it would be the exact one he had asked for, so Balidor was right in a way. It had been his wish.

  It just wasn’t his wish anymore.

  He’d understood Balidor’s reasoning when the Adhipan leader explained it. The order had come down from Vash himself, in any case, so Balidor hadn’t had much say in how it unfolded. In this, ironic as it was given his stature, Balidor had only been a messenger.

  Revik had felt some hint of Kali behind those orders as well.

  It crossed his mind, in a bare flash of paranoia, that she might have done it to separate him from Dalejem. The thought pained him, though, so he didn’t entertain it for long.

  Would they really do that?

  Would they really break up a love bond, just to suit some fucking prophetic figment of Kali’s imagination? Even Kali made it sound like the whole thing wasn’t written in stone. Were the Council, Vash, Kali and whoever else really so calculating and cynical?

  …Brother Dalejem, Balidor sent, his thoughts holding a thread of sadness. He will no longer be wearing the Adhipan colors, my brothers and sisters…

  Revik’s head and eyes jerked around.

  He stared at where Balidor stood in the open area by the fire pit, certain he must have heard him wrong.

  As he did, Revik felt his breath stop in his chest.

  …Brother Dalejem has been given another assignment, my brothers and sisters, Balidor continued, his thoughts solemn but quietly happy, too.

  They echoed through the Adhipan construct.

  …It is an assignment for which he was chosen by the gods themselves. We are to wish our brother swift wings, and send him all of our love as he embarks on this new calling. It is one that speaks to his higher light, to a great need in his soul. None of you will be surprised by this, I suspect, for there was always something special in brother Dalejem, something that would make such a calling seem natural now. It reminds us, as if any of us needed reminding, what an honor it was to serve with him, and to be privy to his light and wisdom all these years…

  At every word, Revik felt his breath squeeze tighter in his chest.

  It felt as if he’d fallen under the weight of a stone, his heart crushed inside bones and earth like the tightened fingers of a fist. He went back to scanning faces in the crowd, looking for Dalejem openly now, with no thought to being discreet.

  He didn’t see the green-eyed seer anywhere.

  …Of course, brother Revik will also be returning to his enclave in the mountains, Balidor added, his words inside the Barrier space still weighted with feeling. I know you will join me in feeling immense gratitude for what our young brother has risked for us, both body and light, by joining us in our mission out here, and what he endured personally in order to keep the Bridge and her family safe at this critical time…

  Revik continued to look for Dalejem, ignoring the smiles aimed in his direction, the pings of warmth from nearby seers as they acknowledged Balidor’s words.

  Revik didn’t feel Dalejem in any of it.

  He didn’t see his face.

  Hesitating only another second, he opened his light.

  He looked for him openly that time, searching for the familiar resonance. A few seconds later, he pinged him, and when that didn’t work, he called out to him in the space.

  Finally, in desperation, he opened his light completely, offering it up in the space, begging the other seer to answer him.

  Dalejem didn’t answer, though.

  He didn’t answer because he was no longer there.

  When Revik sent out a harder blast, using more of his light, he saw a few seers around him flinch, turning their heads in surprise, but none of them were Dalejem either.

  He really wasn’t there.

  He was really gone.

  Pain hit Revik’s heart as he found he understood, as the reality sank into his awareness.

  Dalejem was gone. He’d left with Kali.

  He was just… gone.

  He cried out, unthinking, even as eyes turned towards him again in surprise, their expressions twisting in sympathy when they saw who it was. Revik stared back at all of them, fighting to shut himself down, breathing too much, until he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear the words being spoken by t
he gray-eyed seer, even from inside the Barrier.

  He felt hands on him, voices in his mind and his ears.

  He felt their concern flicker around him, but he didn’t want to listen.

  He didn’t want to hear any of it at all.

  Somewhere in that, someone must have knocked him out.

  They must have, because all at once, the world eclipsed around a single dot.

  …And Revik was somewhere else.

  Wind played gently with his hair, whispering by his cheek.

  He stood at the edge of the world, looking over a landscape of endless light.

  A golden ocean lived there.

  As the ocean appeared, sand spilled out under his feet, which were now bare. High cliffs rose on either side of him, and a small island appeared in the surf, covered in trees and birds, so vibrant with life it caught his breath.

  Red and black clouds massed at the horizon.

  They were distant still, only a warning, not anything he could yet touch or feel.

  Something about just being here both calmed his heart and made it so full he couldn’t breathe. He stood there, soaking up the life around him, the scents on the air, the dome of blue sky above him, the perfect, crystal-clear waves.

  He could just be here.

  For now, he could just be here.

  There was nothing else, not yet. Whatever was coming, he wouldn’t have to face it by himself. He knew that, somehow. He knew it with all of his light, all his heart.

  For now, it was silent.

  It was still here––still as a held breath, despite that flower-scented wind and the curling white foam of aquamarine waves and the flash of wings from calling gulls. Those same rolling waves lapped shores of pure, white sand, wetting his bare feet. The shockingly clear, pale blue sky swam overhead, still as glass, but filled with light, so much light. It shimmered around him, tiny fragments of living presence and meaning where birds flapped silent between beats of his heart, fish swam leisurely in deep waters.

  He was alone here.

  He was alone.

  But somehow, maybe for the first time, being alone was okay.

  Thirty

  Return

  Revik opened his eyes.

  He realized only then that someone had entered his room.

  It occurred to him a few beats after, he’d opened his eyes because that same person had touch him gently with their light.

  He didn’t feel any alarm.

  He let himself come back.

  He let himself return to the room slowly, to his body, until he felt the room creep back, growing substantial around the spot where he sat cross-legged on the floor. The stone floor grew solid under his legs even as he smelled the particular scent of the rock walls, the smell of incense probably from the open door leading out of his cave-like room.

  Sitting was getting easier for him.

  It was getting a lot easier.

  Revik found he actually craved these sessions now, hungered for them. It wasn’t for the escapist reasons he might have cynically expected when they first brought him inside these rock walls either.

  The opposite felt true, really.

  He could feel the difference the sessions were making in how he approached the world. He could feel the difference in his state of mind, in how he viewed himself, how he assessed other beings.

  More and more, Revik felt the layers of who he was being slowly peeled back, exposed to the light so that he could finally just accept what lived beneath all of the countless masks and veneers. He could finally just allow himself to be, without trying to change any of it.

  He could allow the world to be, without trying to change any of that, either.

  On the other side of all that fighting and resistance, things felt simpler.

  He was starting to crave that simplicity.

  Moreover, it was starting to feel more and more like his true self.

  Or perhaps, he simply could see his true self more clearly from that space.

  At the very least, Revik found he could see some fraction of the truth behind all of the things and people he had been. He could see the common thread running between them, some deeper core to his light––that thing which seemed to remain there, no matter what he did or who he was in the outside world.

  There was a truth to that core.

  Moreover, there was nothing in that core to hate.

  There was nothing in it to judge, or to try and fix.

  It just was.

  It existed.

  It also felt completely and totally like him.

  For now, anyway, that was enough.

  For now, connecting with that part of himself was the goal. Revik found the more he did it, the more he lost any true interest in his own past… and even in himself. All of those stories just ceased to be all that interesting to him. They also ceased to really tell him much about who he was, either in the good sense, or the bad.

  The world felt larger here.

  Too large to waste on meaningless regrets.

  Sometimes, he found that funny, that it took this––sitting inside a semi-claustrophobic cave––for the world to open up for him. In here, he felt weirdly freed from all the constraints he put on himself, on his life, on who he was able to be, on the future of the world. Here, it really felt like most of that was just nonsense.

  It felt like anything could happen still.

  It felt like losing hope was just one more illusion… one more lie in the dark.

  When Revik finally opened his eyes and looked up, he found Tulani standing in his doorway, smiling at him. The old monk wore sandals and sand-covered robes, like he always did, his long, dark hair wrapped into a clip at the base of his skull.

  Revik blinked to clear his eyes then rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight on his thighs before stretching out his legs and feet.

  “I apologize, brother,” he said, smiling at Tulani. “Have you been waiting there long?”

  “Not long, no,” the other said, smiling back. “No need for apologies, my friend.”

  “You needed something?” Revik said politely.

  Tulani nodded, his smile growing warmer. “You have a visitor, brother.”

  For the first time, Revik’s smile faltered, but more in surprise.

  “A visitor?”

  “Yes. He just arrived, and is most anxious to see you.”

  Revik just stared at him for a moment, his mind blank.

  He still didn’t feel any alarm, but confusion swam over his aleimi as he tried to think through possibilities, then to pull it from the monk’s own light.

  The male laughed, blocking his attempt.

  “No, no,” he chided affectionately. “You must come see for yourself.”

  “Is it Vash?” Revik said, his voice curious.

  The seer clicked at him, smiling. “You are so suspicious, brother! It is quite funny, you know, given where you are. Do you really imagine enemies coming out of the rock walls to get at you here? Carrying guns, perhaps… or just very large sticks?”

  Shaking his head, Revik clicked in a wan humor, too.

  It was difficult to remain tense around Tulani.

  It seemed, sometimes, that all the old monk did was smile.

  Pulling himself stiffly to his feet, Revik smiled back at him, making a polite gesture with one hand. “Well?” he said. “Are you going to take me to this mysterious guest? Or must I find them on my own in this maze, too, brother?”

  Tulani laughed, waving for Revik to follow him.

  “I will take you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he walked down the narrow stone passage. “We would not want to lose you in these caves, brother. Although I am quite sure you would not be the first acolyte to get lost in here.”

  Revik snorted, pausing to nod a greeting to two other monastics as they passed, who smiled at him and Tulani in return.

  Revik glanced down at his feet, noting he was barefoot.

  That wouldn’t matter, though, even if t
hey were leaving the caves.

  It was nearly summer in the Pamir.

  It was easy to forget about clothing here, and even seasons, inside these walls.

  While the caves remained cool in the hottest of the summer months, and in the snow-covered winters, they never got truly hot or truly cold in either season. Revik marked the seasons mostly when he decided to go out for fresh air, and for real exercise, which he never seemed to get inside the caves. With the monks’ blessing, he spent more than a few days out in the wilderness, at least once a month. He spent that time meditating too, and out hiking on the peaks, even in the dead of winter, even through the shifts in climate that made those winters more brutal of late, despite the wildfires and droughts happening in other parts of the world.

  Thinking about that now, Revik sighed a little wistfully.

  Maybe he was due for another of his treks.

  It would be nice to be out there now, with the rivers and waterfalls full, and the plants bursting with new life under the late-spring sun.

  He followed the much shorter male through the tunnel’s twists and turns, until it hit him they were heading for the common areas, which often acted as impromptu reception spaces when they weren’t filled with socializing monks.

  When Tulani made the last turn before the cave walls opened up, revealing a much, much larger space, Revik realized the monk had brought him to the least-often used of those room. It was an enormous, ancient-feeling cavern, one that used to serve as a meditation hall before they’d moved those functions to a smaller part of the caves.

  Revik’s eyes slid up the rock walls in a kind of wonder, remembering this as one of his favorite spaces in all of the Pamir. Something about the remnants of light that clung to these walls pulled at him, opening his light. It had a familiar feel to it, one that wasn’t solely comforting, but that immersed him in a feeling of––

  Well, family.

  He felt a sense of family here… a feeling like he belonged.

  It was not something he ever expected to feel inside these walls.

  His eyes paused on the faded mural someone long-ago painted on the fire-blackened stone, probably more than a thousand years before he had been born.