by Aaron D. Key
“Guards,” he eventually explained. “Most of them are loyal to Glant and I do not know if they are looking for you yet.”
I appreciated his caution. I was not ready for the confrontation. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be, I admitted to myself.
Eventually, in the darkest place we had visited yet, we stopped. There was a round space at the end of a tunnel and archways leading to other unknown destinations and a wooden door. The sight of this made me feel uncomfortable. I could taste blood on my tongue without knowing why.
We turned away from this door, fortunately into one of the other archways. Koa grabbed one of the torches burning on the wall outside and we found ourselves in a large room like an empty mediaeval vault with a doorway at the end, through this another doorway and more until at last we were in a room that looked inhabited.
By the light that barely lit up his face, Koa looked disappointed.
“He’s not here.”
“Why would he be?” My distaste for this location burst out, though I meant to stay neutral. The inhabitants of this city had no choice other than to live in these dark tunnels and it did not help that I was revolted by their lack of choice. Koa smiled. He slotted the torch into a bracket on the wall and bent down to pull aside dried plants to reveal a small hole filled with clay jars.
“I thought he would want a drink, especially if he has been away for months. Why else would he have blundered off like that? What was bugging him? Shush!”
He waved his hands at me as his voice changed to a whisper.
“Get on the bed. I’ll cover you up.”
I did as he asked and lay still as the cloak covered me. There was hardly any difference in the light levels.
“Koa, I thought I would find you here!” A new voice entered the room and grew louder, as if the owner was striding energetically towards us.
“Who’s this?” the new voice asked, I assumed pointing at me.
“It’s a woodworker, poisoned,” Koa answered dully.
“Is he dead?” the newcomer asked with an inappropriate laugh in his voice, I thought.
“No, he’s not dead,” Koa said levelly. “The light was hurting his eyes. I was giving him chance to rest them.”
What light? I could not help but think.
“Glant is looking for Monta. I don’t know why. I didn’t even realise he knew he had gone missing. I just thought he’d assume he was in a drunken stupor somewhere. But I have to check your patient – just in case.”
The cloak over my face was flicked off and I held my breath for discovery.
“Alright, it’s not Monta. I’ve done my duty, but who the hell is this, Koa? I’ve never seen him before.”
“I said, he’s a woodworker. His name’s Sola. He’s not a social man. Spends most of his time at work or sleeping. Can I get on now? I need to attend to him.”
There was the chink of glass as if Koa was rustling through bottles and I wondered if Koa’s story would be believed, and also what remedy he might feed me to further the invention. I expected an emetic with a sense of distaste.
“Do what you have to. I have no orders to look for strangers, only Monta, and I suppose I had better carry on searching elsewhere.”
“Be careful, Koa.” The voice got quieter as footsteps moved towards the door. “Do you really think I don’t know everyone from this city? If Glant asks about strangers, I’ll know where to look.”
This was a parting sally, I presumed. Koa sighed. “He’s gone.”
I threw my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.
“Cailo is on our side, but he is loyal to Glant. That was a warning to leave here.” Koa began to mutter, “I was foolish to bring you here. I didn’t realise the search would have started already. I thought Monta would be drinking and we needed to make sure he wasn’t talking too freely. I wonder where he’s gone and why Glant wants him, and what did Glant mean when he called Monta his dog? And when did Cailo last see Glant? Is he looking for you now since you lifted the curse from our heads? We’d better get moving.”
I followed him again as we left the three empty and eerie rooms. I had a sense of hopelessness.
Why was I still hiding? Koa had told me everything he knew and I was none the wiser. Did the delay help anything? I had one more question, even though I hated myself for asking it.
“So, if I understand you rightly, you can all live here quite happily, though with a slight headache, as long as you stay in the city. I’m just seeking understanding of why I had to come here, potentially risking my life, to help you. Just trying to understand. Have I got the facts right?”
Koa turned around to face me. There was not the contempt that I expected to see in his face, just concern, and it shamed me.
“I’m sorry if you think you’re wasting your time here. I’m sorry if you think that saving a whole city from suffering and internment in the dark is not worth risking your life for. It’s not just a headache, it’s like living with someone crushing your head, a cloak of darkness, depression, and hopelessness weighing us down. Something is wrong here, Damon Ich. Rael could see it. That’s why he offered your help, although we had asked for nothing and indeed didn’t think that any help was possible.”
He carried on walking but turned round to say, “Is the risk of losing your life high? I would be sorry to see that, and not only because we would be left without hope.”
“I understand that Rael thinks this is important,” I said, avoiding the direct question and in acceptance of the point he had made, although my secret thought was that Rael had been drunk, not himself, and not the man whose opinion I would accept every time.
I wondered if the gloom that Koa had mentioned was affecting me, although I was free from pain. Everything seemed pointless and hopeless and I was beginning to hate the dark, though I had only been there for an hour or so.
“Surely you could return home if your meeting with Glant does not go well? Wouldn’t you be safe there? And at least you would have tried, even if you fail,” Koa suggested.
His suggestion wrinkled into my brain, an unpleasant damp worm of an idea exploring my unconscious mouth. I could go home if I felt in danger, but Glant could follow me as easily. Anything I could do, he could do. He had the same power as I did. It wasn’t just Koa’s city that needed help. I needed to act or everything I knew was potentially in danger. I had thought that the desert protected us, but I had proved in my journey that it was no protection at all. I was glad that this thought had occurred to me, to help buffer my fading bravery.
Koa disappeared in front of me. He had slipped into a doorway almost filled to the roof with sacks, barrels, and pots.
“I don’t know where else to go,” he admitted, shrugging as if in disgust at the comfortless dark hole. I followed him. “Cailo knows every single place Monta might be lurking. I can’t take you with me.”
“But you could go safely, you think? I can wait here while you look for Monta. I will be happy here. I need to sit and let everything I’ve learned today settle in my brain.”
He nodded, relieved.
“I’ll come back as soon as I’ve found him.”
I was grateful when Koa left. I could have told him where Monta was if I’d put my mind to it. But if I made a habit of it, everyone around me would have no purpose and I would have been the one who stripped them of that. I was on a tightrope. What hope did I have of dreaming of love? I had been dreaming that I was a man someone could love. A normal, fragile human man full of unfulfilled hopes and dreams – ironic, that!
The conversation we had overheard in the woods bothered me.
Was it Elena again talking with Aeth to make it seem that he was not dead to her? It hadn’t sounded so much like it this time, but if it had been Elena then she was definitely mad, and pretending to be Glant – whoever he was. The power had taken me to Elena and Monta when I asked to be
taken to Aeth’s murderer, so it must have been one of them, and Monta was without power and not old enough. All of these events had happened years ago unless someone had been travelling in time, which was very likely.
I needed to think about the man with no body. Sharing his body and half his mind with another. No wonder he was mad – but was he a he? He had plans … restoring the universe to order, he had said. But that depended entirely on his definition of order – and he was mad.
Herron had been safe until now because he couldn’t have killed me before I brought Rael here to this world in the beginning to give him power, but now I had, I presumed there was nothing to stop him doing whatever he liked. Was this the only reason that Herron hadn’t been aware of this danger until now?
Then I realised that the torture of Rael had been the catalyst for me finding him. Aeth’s actions had led to Herron being established … Was he on our side?
“I found him,” Koa announced after I had sat in the dark for too long with my thoughts, not untangling as they should have done but getting more knotted. He sounded out of breath. “Just in time. Cailo came in while I was there and I hid in case he’d seen Glant and been given extra orders. I put something in Monta’s drink. It should be working any time now so Glant can’t question or torture him to get information.”
“I should go and see Glant, or Aeth, now,” I resolved. “I’m putting you all in danger by hiding away like this. I’m not learning anything new. I just need to steel myself and see him.” I was as horrified to think of Monta’s unconscious body being brought to Glant, as if I had coshed him, but I saw that Koa thought he’d acted sensibly. He was not ashamed, and I had to rely on his knowledge that this way was best.
Koa looked irresolute.
“If you really think there is a risk that you will die, why rush into it? Why not wait until you are summoned – as you will be? Why not try to enjoy the time you have left?”
“Enjoy myself here?” I said despondently and instantly regretted it when I saw the look in Koa’s face.
“Is there something wrong?” I said to distract from my contemptuous slur on his whole way of life. “You were so calm before and now you seem unsettled.”
“I am thinking unhelpful thoughts,” Koa replied hurriedly. “I did not mean to but they came to me and now I can’t get rid of them. I am thinking if you die tomorrow, what a bloody awful last few hours of your life it will have been – here with me in this storeroom. I’m sorry; I did not wish to show a lack of confidence in your ability, but it would be such a shame, such a waste, that I can’t stop myself thinking this. I don’t know how you can be so outwardly calm, almost as though you would be happy to die.”
I was reassured that I had not told Koa I was scared. I had a memory that I had, as though I had contemplated doing, so but I must have thought better of it, as he was acting as if no conversation had taken place. I played along.
“No, not happy to die,” I said, “but I am calm. I am hoping quite strongly that I will not die, but there is no point dwelling on the possibility. I have spent so long relying on the power that I expect to be warned if something disastrous is going to happen. I’m not being warned at the moment. In fact, I am being reassured that everything is going to plan.”
He looked unconvinced.
I continued, “Apart from not knowing what meeting Glant will bring, I am not having an unpleasant evening. For me, experiencing other ways of living and other cultures is an exploration, the best part of my job. Usually I explore on my own but today I have appreciated your company.
“Will you be sorry to say goodbye to this life, if that is what the outcome of tomorrow means?” I asked. I was not sure what inspired this question unless it was a sudden understanding or feeling for the rich and vibrant life that Koa seemed to have despite the dark and unpromising environment he had grown up in. I felt a corresponding sense of shame that I, who surely had every convenience, every comfort, and every experience that the power could bring, still felt hollow and light like a dried autumn seed head.
Although I had achieved good things for others, I did this because of an external imposed duty and not because it pleased me. What had I missed? What was the important fact that I had managed to completely bypass when everyone around me seemed to have their lives sorted out? Or was this just a symptom of my own feeling of inadequacy when everyone else was as aimlessly floating in uncertainty?
“I have had enough of lurking in the dark,” Koa said. “I crave the sunshine and the prospect of living without pain. That will be enough to compensate me for anything I might miss in this life.”
“I can’t conceive of what it has been like,” I tried to explain myself with a gesture to encompass our surroundings. Simultaneously Koa reached out, intentionally or not, I did not know.
As the skin of our hands briefly touched, I felt a stab of desire or pleasure so intense it was almost pain, like an electric shock. I struggled hard to make sure no expression showed on my face.
I remembered Monta saying that he denied himself no pleasure because there was so little to be had. Perhaps this was something that was generally observed here, and I was not in a position to challenge this viewpoint. If I thought about my life in this way, perhaps I spent so much time denying myself pleasure because really I had too much: an unfair amount of all except of the sexual kind.
I thought of Koa in a void of anything pleasurable, and my heart went out to him in great pity, but not just pity.
There was something I could do: something that would please me as well as comfort him. I concentrated. Gradually around me the darkness was replaced by a golden light.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Trying to Impress Koa
The light was at first intense and unfocused, but gradually it dimmed and clarified. We were standing on a strongly sloping shingle beach with golden sculptured sandstone cliffs behind us. A strong winter sun was shining on the surface of the sea so it seemed that the golden light was coming from all around.
“What’s happening?” Koa asked. I turned around to look at him and realised as I did so that he was the one thing I could not see clearly. He was not in my memory. I could see the outline of his form – an out-of-focus figure sitting on the shingle beach beside me.
“We are not really here,” I tried to explain. “I just thought that you would like to visit this memory of a perfect day to see the sunshine. I thought I might be able to see you clearly in the bright light of day here, but I can’t.” I put out my hand just to prove the point and felt the reassuring warmth of his shoulder just inches under his hazy outline.
“I can see you, but you look different – better,” Koa said.
“I think I had washed that day, put clean clothes on,” I defended myself. “I don’t usually look like I’ve walked through a desert in someone else’s clothes. Also, as this is my memory, it may not be entirely accurate. Perhaps I imagine I look better than I really did.”
“Where is this? Is this where you live?” Koa asked.
“It was just somewhere I was passing through. I liked it.”
“I can feel the sun and hear the sea,” Koa said.
“As I could when I was there.”
“Did you swim in the sea? I would love to.”
“No, I didn’t. It’s not an ideal place to swim because the currents drag you in and under and it’s winter here. If you want to swim, I’ll take you home.”
Before he had chance to speak, the golden light sharpened to a bright white light and I was back at Herron. This was where I really desired to be, although I had forgotten this in my desire to impress Koa. Travelling in memories took no effort, and if I had really gone home would I have come back?
Home, although only in memory, my heart felt whole and content. It was early morning and I stood in the clear waters of the lake with my out-of-focus companion. Tiny fish were nibbling at my toes, dashi
ng in and out with every movement I made so that I did not step on them. We walked out further into the lake, a refreshing rather than unpleasant chill pouring over my knees as the water got deeper. Soon it was up to our waists. We both dived gently under the water to float for a while and then, twisting upright again, steadily swam towards a distant island.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Koa said with enthusiasm. “I’ve only ever swam briefly in a fast-moving river to wash before. This is so different.”
He stopped swimming and turned to look back at Herron. I looked back with him. In the cool morning sun the walls of Herron looked white and pure. A haze of heat rose from within the grounds, giving the impression of a place that was not really there, just a myth that appeared out of shapely clouds and imagination.
“Is this your home?” he asked.
“A lot of the time,” I replied, feeling the contrast with Koa’s dark cavern. At least his dark cavern was full of friendly faces and warmth. Herron looked cold and empty to me now.
We carried on swimming until we made it to the island, and there we lay on the flat soft grass as the evaporating water rose like smoke from our bodies and clothes. The sun was rising higher and bringing real warmth to our skin.
“Your memory is like a vision of paradise. It seems so real.”
“If all goes well, you could choose to live here,” I said haltingly. “You will have a choice between the beautiful woods of your own part of the world and returning with me to Herron. We would all be pleased to welcome you.”
“What we should do next, although not yet, is visit one of my memories. Would that be possible? Then you would see how amazing this is for me.”
“We will try that later,” I promised. I was keen to make his wish come true but like him not keen enough to leave the balmy heat, the sense of peace, and for me the memory of the man I used to be. When we were warm enough we began to swim back. Herron was glowing golden in the sun and people were beginning to stir.
