They Called Us Shaman

by Corinne Beenfield

  Below, markets teem and pyramids rise, and here I am, standing above it all. I have no reason to be anything but extraordinarily grateful, and up until now, I have been.

  Yet now it isn’t enough. Where I used to see an entire kingdom, now I see only an empty pit. I can’t stop missing her, this girl who comes to me each night in my dreams. I can only learn how to live around the gaping hole she leaves me with.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Tuscan Italy, October 1470 A.D

  The memory of our flight will always cling to me. For while most things don’t truly matter, some things do, and there is a pulse in my veins telling me this is one of them. It was more than soaring, it was more than a dream fulfilled, or a hole Alessio and I had made that was refilled. While it was all of those things, it was more.

  Plucking one of the last apples off the tree next to me, I feel connected, feel as though I understand the roots it came from. These same roots that dig down into eternity, but are not lost in it. They give new life, new beauty, wherever it is their opportunity to spring forth. Just as is expected of me.

  How many centuries have I had to pass through to learn what the earth would have always had me know? I am not so alone as I would think. I never have been. We are all connected. Why else would a shaman access their ability through connection to the earth? Or for that matter, a scientist access theirs through the study of the same? I think of yesterday, soaring over the River Arno, and the one great shadow we cast upon the water. How much closer to authenticity it was than our three separate bodies.

  We are all part of one body—one heartbeat binds us each. We differ as drastically as the ear does from the lungs, yet we each have a role to contribute to the whole.

  If we can hold on to the truth of what we found, if we can teach it, show people how to open their tired eyes and see it for themselves, it could just be one of those few remarkable things that actually lasts. I have to believe that something we’ve done will affect the world the way it has me, that a thousand years from now, things will be different.

  But it can only ever be a belief. I walk alone through the orchard, searching for the time machine. Weeks ago, Alessio had a canvas nailed over it with a sign that declared it a statue being built by Leonardo DaVinci for the Medicis, and it threatened severe consequences if the canvas was removed by anyone else. Coming upon it, I cast off the sheet and place my palm against the cool metal. Apparently, either the wrath of the Medicis or reverence for Leo’s work was enough to ward off intruders, for the time machine has remained untouched. I had tried to convince Alessio sooner that it needed to be destroyed, but he kept begging, “Just wait until we have gotten the orthinopter to work, then we will. I promise.” It was his only security if all this didn’t work, no matter how much I insisted that the time machine couldn’t save us again. Yet the urgency I felt once to wreck it was gone. Though I could never bring myself to commit the atrocity of time travel, I know that machine is the only link through the ages that connects to Ramose.

  My fingers trail over the walls of the machine as I tread the length of it, coming at last to the door. Pure longing balls up at the base of my throat, pools in the rim of my eyes. Yet I set my jaw and grip the handle.

  “Having second thoughts?” a voice asks behind me.

  Turning, I see Alessio. “Second? No. That would imply there were only two.” Giving him a soft smile, I gesture to the time machine. “Thanks for coming, I need all the manpower I can get to dismantle this thing.”

  He nods. “It’s something I need to be part of anyway.” Casting a glance to the side, he takes a step forward. “Before Leo arrives, I was hoping to speak with you alone.” He is close now, and reaching down, he takes my hands in his. “I made the mistake of loving something more than you once. I know I’ve been given more second chances than I deserve lately, but I wonder if you would grant me one more.” His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a heavy breath. “Marry me, Joanna. Have me back. Who else will understand what we’ve been through? We can create a beautiful life together—have our own vineyard, and your mama can have a home on our property. What more could we want?”

  I meet his eyes, see his aching there. All he says makes sense, and it seems foolish to turn him down for the love of a distant star—someone who brought light into my world but is hundreds of years away. Unreachable. Yet I find myself shaking my head and taking a step backward until our hands drop limp between us.

  “I cannot do that to you. I cannot have you marry someone who loves another.”

  His eyes at once narrow and turn cold. “The roommate.” It’s not a question, but I nod.

  Swallowing, he fixes his stare past me onto the machine and then curtly squares his shoulders.

  “Well, no need to wait for Leo. Let’s get on with it.” He approaches the door so determinedly that he almost knocks into me.

  He steps in, and I take a moment to catch my breath. Perhaps turning him down was a mistake—but no. To even consider lying in a marriage bed when I know my heart is somewhere else entirely would be an anguish all its own, and a cruelty to Alessio. I nod to myself. Yes, I did the right thing. Then I follow him into the time machine.

  And into the nozzle of a gun.

  I gasp, then attempt a nervous laugh. “That thing again?” I try to sigh, to lighten the moment, but Alessio stares back from the other end of it, the muscles in his jaw rigid.

  “Sit down,” he orders, his face unreadable.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I tilt my head, still standing. I don’t move, and can’t help but feel that because he has changed, his threat must be hollow.

  He cocks the gun and points to my leg. “Don’t overestimate the rational thinking of a heartbroken man. I said sit.” His voice goes quiet, but there is a focus to his eyes, a surety in how he moves.

  “You wouldn’t…” My words trail as he shrugs only one shoulder ever so slightly.

  He doesn’t answer but just cocks the gun. There;s a thousand emotions in his eyes, but his hand is steady and ice fills my veins. Oh, earth, he’s really going to do it.

  “Why are you doing this?” I shake my head, confused, yet hold my ground.

  “Jo, go.” Our eyes shift to the doorway where Leo now stands, his eyes wide with awe as he takes in the time machine. Quickly, though, he meets my gaze and gives a sad smile. “This can’t be your home anymore. We’ve all seen it, how you are not truly here now. Even your mama told me she worries for you. Anyone who calls you a friend can see that your light has been dimmed. Go back to him. The one you’re in love with. We are okay.” He gestures to Alessio. “We’ll see to it that Isabetta is taken care of. You don’t need to worry.” Alessio nods, his good heart showing under his cold demeanor. “Besides,” Leo adds, casting his eyes briefly to the floor. “Someone needs to go back to make sure the harm I did has been undone.”

  “I can’t,” I whisper, the words barely escaping past a sob. For while I love Ramose enough to give up my ability to do magic, how could I ever betray the earth? It gave me everything, made me who I am. I want Ramose, but not if it means becoming that kind of person.

  Alessio stoops closer, raising the end of his gun to my navel. “I can,” he whispers back. “I already choose to time travel once—who knows how much longer the earth will allow me to have my abilities? No, I have already paid this price—there’s no need for you to pay it too. Again, I’m not giving you a choice.”

  He steps forward, forcing me back until my knees buckle against the bench. Once I am sitting, he glances at the screens in front of him and makes quick work of putting in the information necessary.

  My knees shake, but I don’t fight him. At my sides, my fingers clench into the cushion. Part of me wants this—part of me despises myself for not clawing at his face to escape. Yet I stay still.

  Finishing the input, Alessio steps back, the gun dutifully trained on me, until he stands in the doorway with Leo.

  “Goodbye, Jo.” Leo’s smile is gentle, but I can see how
behind his eyes something seems to break. “The last time you disappeared, I thought I would never see you again. These past few weeks together . . .” He shakes his head, then meets my gaze again. “. . . Have been a gift. An inexpressible gift. Thank you.”

  With that, Leo steps back and begins to close the door. As it swings, Alessio holds my gaze, not a word between us. His eyes are the last thing I see as the door closes.

  Instantly, the whirling such as a large fan starts, and looking to the dial on the control panel, I see the years disappear. 1471...1472...1473...It is then that I see the destination Alessio entered and realize his error. The Californian Remains, 2048. The year we left.

  But if what we did worked, the Academy will no longer be there. It would never have been built in the first place, for no war between shaman and scientists would have ever begun. And if it had never been created, it never would have retrieved shaman across the centuries. No one is there. Ramose is not there. He lived all his days in Ancient Egypt, untouched by thieves of time.

  Frantically I try to understand the screen before me, and I stab at any button that looks promising. But just as Alessio said before, I am stuck on a one-way track.

  “No!” I scream then crumble to the floor as the years tick away from Mama, Leo, and home, yet the sacrifice is for nothing. Misery overtakes my body as my fingers claw at my wet cheeks.

  Curling into a ball, I know that the memories Ramose and I shared, I alone now have. He cannot love someone he doesn’t even know exists.

  ___

  I hold close to me all the pieces of her that the dreams have given me. They are like broken colored glass in my hands, catching the light and bringing beauty, yet cutting me all the same. I can’t carry them without holding the sense of loss for something I never had.

  But this cannot be how my story ends, a miser huddled in the dark over my jewels. To me, life has always been about understanding and reflection, yet the more I understand of her, the more I see that this knowledge must be used.

  These dreams must have been sent from the earth for a reason.

  And I will find it.

  FORTY-FIVE

  California, November 2048 A.D

  Wiping my wet face with my palms as the whirring of the fan stops, I know I can’t stay in here. Unsure what else to do, I step out of the time machine onto the naked earth. Wispy sand kicks up as my dress sweeps across it, and a honeycomb of hardened ground cracks to pieces under each foot. Spinning, I search the landscape for some sign of the Academy as a slight wind pulls strands of hair across my face. But there are no buildings in sight, and certainly no Academy.

  For a moment, I’m able to see through my grief and feel some joy. We did it. I may have lost everything I’ve ever loved, but my people will go on. Looking at the empty terrain, I’m surprised to feel the inkling of a smile on the edge of my lips. I remember my people as they fled the Academy, filling the air and leaving tracks on this landscape. You’re free, I think to them, and closing my eyes, I send them love wherever they might be throughout history.

  The air is thick and hazy, causing sweat to trickle down my neck. But twilight promises that the heat won’t last too long—soon the thin dress I wear won’t be enough to protect me through the night. I cast my eyes about for some animal that can survive here that I can shapeshift into, but I see no movement. No life anywhere.

  How much daylight do I have left before I’m stranded here in the dark? I lift my gaze to assess the sun, and when I do, my breath escapes from me. My mouth opens as my eyes widen enough to drink in what I see.

  I see life.

  What I had presumed to be twilight is instead a great long shadow cast by no cloud. A kingdom hovers, suspended hundreds of feet off the desert sands. Buildings of metal and glass stretch into heaven, each a masterpiece of beauty, while at their feet, streets teem with movement. Squinting my eyes, I see that the kingdom is so high that its inhabitants walk amongst wisps of clouds. Yet what is most stunning to me about the kingdom is what soars on its outskirts.

  Ornithopters.

  Ornithopters and shaman, together.

  Hundreds of them, like swallows darting amongst a ruin. I watch them, lips parted and my breath heavy, overcome by the magnificence of the sight. Realization dawns—all sunrays and hope—of what this must mean. Though I cannot begin to wrap my head around it, this can only mean that not only did we prevent the Academy from ever happening, but something more came from our actions. Something bigger than we ever knew how to dream.

  As I stare, a single ornithopter leaves the others and comes with purpose straight toward me. It lands, and though metal wings have replaced Leo’s silk ones, I still see his fingerprints all over it. The driver, who sits rather than lays, flips open a side door, and steps from the ornithopter.

  Immediately my hands fly up over my mouth and tears spring to my eyes.

  “Ramose!” His name barely comes out a whisper, and then I’m running to him. I throw my arms about his neck, and he has to take a step backward so we don’t topple over. He laughs, my favorite sound in all the world, yet when he places his hands on my waist, something about his touch feels stiff, uncertain. I pull back, eyes fluttering closed as I wait for his kiss, and I feel him gently place his fingers along my jaw and cheek.

  Yet no kiss comes. Confused, I open my eyes and see him intently absorbing my every feature in awe.

  “You’re real,” he utters in shock, then smiles. His voice is different, as though his tongue is thick. “I can hardly believe it…” His arms tighten around me, as though if he didn’t, I might drift away from him.

  “I thought I’d never see you again,” I blink away happy tears.

  He slants his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowed. “So it all really happened,” he muses. Suddenly I realize no Master of Tongue manipulates his words so I can understand—he is actually speaking my language.

  “How did you find me?” I step back, confused myself. “If the Academy was never built, we never would have met. Why aren’t you in Egypt?” My fingers intertwine with his as I wait for an answer.

  He looks to the vast empty terrain, as though imagining the Academy there, before he speaks.

  “A week after my mother died, I started having dreams . . . but not. They came whenever I closed my eyes, even if I just rested them while still awake. I had always been able to ask the earth questions and it would answer me with a memory, but this time it was as if She wanted to speak first. She thrust the dreams—or memories—at me whenever given the chance, as if there was something She wanted me to know. Mostly they found me in that in-between space just before falling asleep and just as I was about to wake up. At first they disturbed me, told me a story of kidnapping and captivity. They were confusing, taking place in a land I had never imagined, in a time obviously far more advanced than the Egyptian days I had known. I would awake shaken, dread filling the remainder of my day.” He bites the corner of his mouth, remembering, but then the angst in his features melts away. “Suddenly, the dreams shifted. Instead of despair when I left them, I started to feel hope. Nearly all of these new dreams revolved around one girl. One woman.” He smiles at me tenderly and rubs his thumb along my cheek. “The first face I would see every morning and the last face I would see each night was yours.”

  “So . . .” My brow furrows. “You’ve never met me before?”

  He smiles. “Not in flesh and blood. But I believe we now share all the same memories of each other, with all that the earth has shown me. From before . . .” He pauses. “Before you time traveled, and everything was changed.”

  “But . . .” I hesitate, not sure if I want the answer to this question as my hands drop his. “How did you get here? Did you . . .” I stop mid-sentence and try not to look at him as one might a murderer.

  “I didn’t know what to do at first.” Ramose looks to the time machine. “How could I not fall in love with the girl in the dreams? A girl who belonged to another century. But I had always believed that the one
thing the earth forbids is time travel. Why would it put me in this situation? Why leave me so conflicted?

  “Until at the end, it showed me this final memory.” He lifts his hands, palms up, and locks eyes with mine. “May I show you?” His voice comes out tentative and gentle.

  I pause a moment, then nod and place my hands in his. Leaning forward, our eyes connect for the briefest moment before our foreheads touch and we drop our gazes. With eyes closed, the sound of the wind blowing across the sand disappears, and all my senses are replaced. I am replaced.

  I stand in the orchard I had just left.

  The time machine fan whirs loudly as I take a step back. A sunray glints across its surface, from one side to the next, as if it’s moving quickly. When the ray is gone, so is the time machine. I exhale and step onto the matted grasses where it had just been. It’s a good thing Leo backed me up when he did. If she had resisted much more, I would have dropped my bluff rather than sending her back to that lucky fool. But I had to hold my ground. For her.

  “You going to be okay, Alessio?” Leo asks behind me. I don’t turn to answer him yet. Kneeling on one knee, I reach down and run my hand over the long grass, the last place Joanna stood. Closing my eyes, I say the goodbye I hadn’t been able to utter to her.

  It was too much to hope I could win you back. But not a day will go by that I won’t pray for you, that he treats you well, that he realizes what he has. That he can give you the happiness I had promised you. Know that while I can never make amends, I will never consider our days together wasted. You taught me what matters, and though I didn’t learn it soon enough to save us, from now on I will see the world differently. So thank you. And goodbye.

  Opening my eyes, I stand and turn, nodding to Leo. “Yes, I will be all right.” Walking toward him, I try to smile. “Perhaps a little heartache isn’t the worst thing. Life isn’t all fun and games, you know.” Shaking my head, I even manage the slightest chuckle. “Maybe a little heartbreak would do me a world of good.”