by G M Archer
As I stopped to observe a large cluster of the crystal, a pattern caught my eye, a mix of swirling blue much like the color of the crystal but an odd formation all the same, and I froze as it moved, a liquid shadow accented with the color.
And it came forth out of the darkness as if leaping from the walls of my childhood, more lithe than a panther and poised as gracefully as any predator, the slitted eyes on its white mask seeming to look into my very soul.
A Journeyer. The Journeyer. My Journeyer.
Chapter 3- And Take Revenge on Existence
My scream echoed across the walls. I heard Joseph and Alexandra halt and whirl.
I dared not take my eyes from the slitted ones for fear of it disappearing; proving that it was only a ghost created by paranoia.
“Atlas!?” he yelled, running in my direction.
It turned as smooth as a wave and fused back into the shadows, the patterns on its cloak trailing into the darkness soundlessly.
Joseph ran to me, a sword drawn.
I lifted a trembling hand to point a finger at something no longer there.
“What is it!? What did you see!?” He demanded, looking fearfully at my face, as his hands fumbled to light his lantern.
“A Journeyer”, I whispered, not even believing my own words.
“What!?” he got the lantern lit, a beam slicing out into the darkness, and he swung it about wildly, “You saw what!?”
Alexandra appeared to the other side of me, holding a long thin dagger, and the sight of her with a weapon was almost as surprising as my previous encounter.
“Did you say a Journeyer? That awful white-faced thing that was on the wall of your nursery? It always gave me chills” Alexandra stood stiff as she gazed out, “But they’re one of the things that was really a myth.”
“Apparently not,” I said quietly, eyes on the empty darkness.
“Are you . . . alright?” Joseph asked slowly, still looking at me.
“Yes. Yes, I am”, I said with a bit of frustration at his skepticism.
He looked uncomfortably concerned as he moved in the direction I pointed, scanning every nook and cranny “Atlas, we’re in a small room, there’s nowhere for anything to hide”, He tried to use logic to insist, “Perhaps you’re just a bit shaken.”
“You don’t really think I saw it, do you?” I said indignantly.
“I think you would like me to tell you ‘no’. But that would be a lie.”
“Fine”, I crossed my arms, almost having convinced myself that my own paranoia was creating things to haunt me, “Let’s just move on.”
“Yes, but let’s move swiftly. And watching each other’s backs wouldn’t hurt either” Joseph ushered us on with a swing of his lantern, casting jagged shadows out over the cave.
Alexandra and I stayed close behind him now, she muttering something about the demons of our past pursuing us.
“I thought they were just messengers of nightmares”, I commented back.
“I’ve heard that they are the warning of devastation”, Joseph said, “But I’ve also heard them called angels of change, peacemakers, dealers of punishment and justice, figures of mystery and death” his voice trailed off, but then he rumbled out a laugh, “But I’m not afraid of some old witch tales.”
He turned and winked at us “I’ve seen enough not to be.”
His words sunk in with a more foreboding undertone in the following silence as we traveled on through the abandoned mine- the feeling of being watched ever persistent.
A dark skinned man laid hidden on cold roof, a slick and intricate musket stabilized on sacks of flour. He desperately tried to adjust sights he knew skewed, jostled presumably on the climb up.
He sighed with a growl, slowly consumed by a defeated feeling. He laid the weapon at ease and traded it for a narrow spyglass to gaze bitterly at the man that would have been his target.
Lafayette. Dressed in full black like a mourner, presumably so the smoke and coal did not visibly corrupt his clothes. It made him seem even paler, face rimmed with a short haired beard-enough to define his jaw- and ash brown hair making his eyes indiscernible. He preached to a crowd of tired workers, his silver tongue sewing words that somehow overcame the feelings of disdain that laid over them.
He was the coal in the forge of Icarus Industries, the deathly machine and innovations that fueled the king’s war.
“And without coal, there is no fire”, he whispered as he put the spyglass away and began to crawl down the roof, his gun in front of him.
A patrol moved on the street below and he froze, brushing a hand over his beating heart and the scar of the traitor’s brand on his skin, a simple outline of a rooster that declared him lower than any man. A punishment more mocking than death, meant to make his life more miserable than such.
`The nobility had marked him as their enemy and it was a role he was happy to fulfill.
But not today.
The guard moved on and he slid off the roof, rifle in hand.
Three men and women waited in the street below, outlined by distant streetlight, eyes full of dying hope.
“Why’d you not shoot, Legion?” The woman questioned.
His feet hit the ground a bit rougher than desired, and he winced, handing the gun off with a sigh of defeat, “God or the devil or some awful beast is on his side. Every attempt at anything against him finds some small way to fail. Destiny smiles upon his wretched life. I could put a bullet in his head and he’d walk away whistling.”
“All our patience, all our efforts, it all seems that for every great sacrifice we receive a mocking spark of false hope”, a man growled, “The risk seems never worth the reward.”
“That’s only what the higher ones want ya to think” A sandy haired boy smelling of horses offered, “They cover up success and protest so it only looks like we fail. It keeps us ignorantly in check.”
“He’s right”, Legion responded with a grin, “Quite clever. Lafayette is another flame living on the false fuel of legend and rumors. Our ignorance is his gain.”
But in the sullen silence Legion grew more vengeful, “Speaking of sacrifice that amounted to nothing. Lafayette was in that factory. You knew that. I knew that. My men knew that! They were willing, and they lost their lives to try to bring change to this existence. All but one, only to escape and be killed as a public example. A pig for slaughter. A message in favor of all we despise” He slammed a fist onto the slick stone wall behind him, splattering a mixture of tar-like goo and algae over his arm, “And there Lafayette stands without a scratch.”
“Ah, but you just talked about how they only make you think you have failed. Your surrender is too early”, a voice said, two figures appearing down the alley, a young man and a servant groveling after him.
Legion’s hand went instinctively to the sword at his side, “Who are you? And what do you mean?”
“You’re struggles have not amounted to nothing. The sparks of revolution are sputtering to life all around us. But they are tiny and fragile things, easily extinguished if you give up. But with some coaxing, they could become the inferno of a new age” The newcomer offered.
Legion was skeptical, but intrigued all the same, and there was an intendedly dramatic pause that only succeeded in annoying him.
“And it will take clever planning. And resources. Something you would need me for,” the newcomer offered.
Legion relaxed his grip on his sword, glancing at the faces his couldn’t see, “Well, don’t you think you’re important?” He scoffed at the boy.
“I do. As important as you, Legion. You are a fulcrum turning tides.”
Legion’s eyebrow quirked as he extended a hand he hoped the boy could see “Well since you know me so well, I would think an introduction on your part would be in order.”
“Master Donovan”, he flinched as he shook Legion’s muck-covered hand.
“Shake a little of that blueblood daintiness off”, he grabbed Donovan’s wrist and jerked him close, “I
t’ll do nothing but get you killed here.”
Donovan grew defensive, “My blood, no matter the color, is a quite valuable thing. It will get you far in your endeavors.”
Guards passed in the distant street, Legion’s eyes sharply following them.
He turned back to Donovan, “You better be able to prove yourself of those big words- and have a pretty good explanation as to why someone like you is biting the hand that feeds you from a gilded spoon.”
“I’ve seen the light, the error of the ways-
Legion’s grip tightened on his wrist, the man easily able to spot a lie.
“Alright! Alright! Varrick tried to have me killed today!” he winced, “made my betrothed pick between me and some protesters. I think I know which one he wanted her to pick. . .” his voice trailed off in a grumble.
“There’s a real answer, a real motivator.” Legion grinned as he let him go.
The boy unconsciously rubbed his wrist once before dropping the gesture, “I have information on the royal family, shipping reports, and diplomacy records. Also, rumors and discord are spreading like wildfire up at the castle. The upper city is in a panic”
The guards were approaching for another round and it seemed this time they might enter the alley. Legion tensed. It was only a matter of time before they found his flour sacks on the roof anyway.
Having that as a motivator, and convinced by such promises, Legion moved forward, “Let’s go to a more suitable place for conversation”, he ushered Donovan on and his group moved wordlessly with him, and they disappeared into the night, a single spark amongst flames.
The blue stones were far behind us, shut away through a complicated maze of tight passages and hidden doors that made me marvel at Joseph’s memory. By the time Alexandra and I had begun to tease him about lack of remembrance, he had moved the last large stone aside, flooding the passageway with fresh air.
We stepped out into a forest, the stars visible through the canopies as we moved by the trunks. The darkness laid around us as we traveled by Joseph’s sliver of light, every sound threating and mysterious until we reached the main road, small farm houses dotting the cleared landscape. The lights of the city rose up in the northeast, small things believing they had a place amongst the stars.
I had never seen the city at night, or the whole city to be exact. Varrick had snuck me out of the castle on multiple instances at what seemed like a lifetime ago, but never beyond the walls. And I had traveled to the closer cities, but exclusively by carriage during the day, and in stayed in rich estates at night.
Slow moving bits of light confused me at first, but I soon realized it was a train. Of course I’d never ridden that either. It was a marvel, the tracks were sewed into the land by Icarus Industries in recent times, my days of not being important enough to leave the castle.
“It would seem a simple life, with simple pleasers, brings one closer to the privilege of freedom”, I whispered softly, eyeing the distant small farmhouses.
“Ah but simple lives give one more labor. And less desires fulfilled”, Alexandra replied.
“Every person looks upon another and yearns for some aspect of their life because, as humans, we make our struggles look easier than the rest. Can you imagine how many people would like to be higher than they were, for the control it gives them over their fate?” Joseph said, all our eyes on the distant lights.
“Till they come too high and realize that their power is the thing shaping who they are, and each decision conforms them to the unspoken standards of society.” I sighed bitterly.
“But does one have to live a life of strife to understand that? If someone in power escaped to simplicity would they yearn to go back to their previous life, and vice versa? Or would they be happy to escape old trails and embrace new ones?” the light glared off Alexandra’s glasses and hid her eyes, her words leaving a somber and thoughtful silence before Joseph motioned us on.
“Trammelfell is only a few hours to the west, so it won’t take us long to reach it”, Joseph said, “If you see anyone coming, especially from the east, tell me, and hide.”
We journeyed with nothing but the wind breaking the silence for a while, the air smelling of an oncoming winter, a minor chill to the night. While I was grateful for my gaudy dress keeping me warm, it was starting to chafe me in tight places, the lace was ripping, and each step made it made it slowly more uncomfortable. Fancy clothes were not made for erratic escapes to freedom.
My eyelids were heavy, and as was my body. The aching in my feet grew more persistent as well, and I wondered if it was weariness or my shoes.
“How close is the city exactly? And what’s the possibility of buying clothes when we get there?” I asked.
“Not too far, but we can stop to rest if you’d like, Atlas”, Joseph offered and paused.
“No, I can make it”, I replied, “This stupid dress is the main problem.”
“Well, I can search for clothes in the city, but if you are tired as well you should get a bit of rest, we won’t be stopping for sleep until we cross the bay. We need to stay leaps and bounds in front of Varrick’s men”, Joseph said.
“Sleep doesn’t sound bad”, Alexandra said with a yawn.
Grateful to feel like I wasn’t inconveniencing anyone, I basically collapsed down on the slope beside the road. Alexandra joined me and handed a small piece of bread to each of us, and passed around the water skin. Joseph put the lantern in the middle of us, opening its shutter so that more light shone out.
They spoke to each other for a while, talking about the cities and roads, l listening but staying mysteriously fascinated by the distant lights. Alexandra yawned again, this time contagious enough for me to do the same, and Joseph picked up his lantern. He offered his cloak to me first and when I refused Alexandra took it, using it as a pillow.
“Get some rest”, he insisted, turning the light away from us, turning to stand nobly on watch, lit like an eerie statue.
I couldn’t protest the command, laying down with my head on my hands. At first I did not expect sleep to come easily on the cold ground, slightly damp with dew. It was certainly a change from my bed at the castle. But as soon as I closed my eyes, a fitful sleep overcame me, after all, it had been a long day.
Chapter 4- Binds Us all to Unique Realities
Old memories came forth. Childhood laughter, teenage sorrow, mingled, vivid, but distant.
People I knew. One’s that had gone. Mary and Leopold.
A mural wall, the paint more vivid, the creatures not worn away, and a white Journeyer watching me play in the garden with Alexandra. But she didn’t know it was there.
Donovan. Love. But something was wrong. I feared for him.
Suitors. Friends. Guards.
A dragon. Fear. Death.
A red-headed woman with different colored eyes, her presence soothing. A boy that would scream with no sound. A man that loved her, that brought darkness and blood when he found out she was dead. Then not. Then gone.
A baby in the gutter.
Varrick screaming, crying, hurt, exhausted. He thought himself mad. He must defend them all against something they would not listen to.
Cockfights, jousts, a dog race. Not with nobility. I was in peasant clothes, snuck out with an equally unassuming Varrick. I looked up at him, we were out of place but comfortable.
“I think I kind of like wearing pants”, I said with a sly smile. People cheered around us, a rooster victorious.
He snorted, then laughed. So long since he’d laughed like that. He had such a nice smile, wrinkling his nose, his elegant teeth flashing.
It all fell away. Nothing, then something.
I was on the floor of a gilded room, a masked angel slumped wearily on a throne before me. His face was concealed, hidden under a distressed silver mask of feathers that swept back over his head, his wings held stiffly above him, greater than the back of the throne itself.
He spoke, his voice a deep mystic thing, “A hero with a legacy fo
rgotten and tarnished will come with a warrior of shadows and nightmares to fight the oncoming storm of darkness. They succeed when they are free, when they gain their wings and fly- but in the end, and only alone their fate is to sacrifice and die.”
I paused, struck with both the disbelief of the clarity of the dream, and the full belief that I or my imagination was quite insane.
“I am Icarus.” He looked up with eyes I couldn’t see. “And we will meet again, Atlas.”
I startled violently awake, breathing heavily. It awoke Alexandra, but she had done so too late to see my outburst, and said nothing, grunting as she stretched. Joseph heard her and came to us.
“I believe that rest did more harm than good”, she grumbled as she stood, and winced as she popped her back.
Joseph spoke as I stood, “Well-rested, Atlas?”
“That’s not the words I would use for it”, I replied.
Alexandra glanced at me with heavy eyelids, “We left a castle to sleep on the ground.”
Joseph laughed, “It’s good for you. It builds character.”
“And back pain”, She said in an almost inaudible tone, cracking her spine, “I’m old, Joseph, in case you’d forgotten.”
“So am I, Alex, I just age more gracefully than you,” Joseph grinned, speaking again before Alexandra could, “C’mon, let’s move”, he insisted as she hurled his cloak back at him. He took a glance backwards at Forscythe, and then we moved on, Trammelfell somewhere on the fields beyond, and the castle and the memories of falling further and further behind me.
I changed in a hay barn with Alexandra’s help, Joseph standing diligent watch. It was a relief being clothed in farmer’s clothes and boots. They were hardy, conformable, but a bit awkward, not made for one size or gender but covered in adjustable belts at fitting points to suit almost anyone.
