The Nibiru Effect

by G Sauvé

We emerge from the forest to discover another clearing. It’s massive—easily five times as big as the one we left behind—and riddled with holes. They remind me of the gopher burrow I found when I was young, but these are easily a dozen times wider.

  I wonder what kind of animal lives here.

  At the centre of the clearing is a river. The sight of it makes me realize I’m thirsty, but I ignore the dryness of my throat and follow the priest as he leads us across the clearing. Jonn and Kara are right on his tail, but I lag behind, allowing the final member of our group to catch up.

  The orange-haired gnome beams at me as he hurries past. I’m still a little freaked out by the recent discovery that I can shift, but I smile back. I’ve seen the world through his eyes, and I can’t help respecting him for being so upbeat given the pitiful state of his life. Still, I feel indebted to him for unwittingly saving our lives.

  “Thanks for helping us,” I say. I’m not sure if he understands me, but he gives me a big smile and points to our companions. They have reached the far end of the clearing and are now waiting for us by the mouth of a small cavern.

  “You’re right,” I say. “We should catch up.”

  Moments later, our small group is entering the cave. It’s smaller than it looked from the outside. The floor is relatively flat, and the walls and ceiling are curved, forming a dome that’s barely big enough for Jonn to stand upright.

  On one of the walls stands a painting. It’s rather crude, but it’s far more detailed than most of the prehistoric drawings displayed in museums. It depicts a man standing atop a mountain. At the base of it stand a dozen small figures—gnomes. A winged creature flies high in the sky. The final detail I notice is the row of symbols beneath the drawing. My ability to understand languages doesn’t usually apply to the written form, so I have no idea what the glyphs mean.

  “Why are we here?” asks Jonn. “I thought he was taking us to his leader.”

  I ignore him and turn to the gnome priest.

  “Who is that?” I ask, pointing to the man atop the mountain.

  The priest seems perplexed.

  “It’s you,” he says.

  “Ex-excuse me?”

  “It’s you,” repeats the gnome.

  “What’s he saying?” asks Jonn.

  I ignore him.

  “I don’t understand,” I tell the priest.

  He gives me a broad smile.

  “Sit,” he says as he drops to the floor. I hesitate for a second, then join him. Kara and Jonn follow suit moments later. Only the small gnome remains standing, though it doesn’t make much of a difference as he is still the shortest one here.

  “I will ooka story of yao,” says the priest. I still don’t recognize every word that comes out of his mouth, but I understand enough to get the gist of what he’s saying.

  “I think he’s going to tell us a story,” I tell my companions. “Don’t worry. I’ll translate.”

  I turn to the priest and nod for him to begin.

  “Korrigana is our goddess,” he says, gesturing to the winged beast from the mural. He speaks in a slow, clear voice, which allows me to understand most of what he says.

  “Korrigana is our goddess,” I translate. “She was birthed from the loins of the great volcano to watch over us.”

  It takes surprisingly little time for me to master the art of real-time translation. I’m no pro, but I manage to get the priest’s message across in its entirety. It helps that the more he speaks, the easier it is for me to understand him.

  “Every day Korrigana would leave her volcano and soar down to us. We korrigans”—that must be what the gnomes call themselves—“saw this as a sign of divine approval. As long as the goddess visited us, all would be well. And for the longest time, it was.”

  The orange-haired korrigan comes to sit before me. He crosses his legs and stares at me with unwavering intensity. It’s a little disconcerting, but I ignore him and focus on the priest’s story.

  “For countless ages, Korrigana kept us safe, but one day she stopped visiting us. Terrified that we had done something to upset her, we started praying for her forgiveness. Her only response was to send dinosaurs to attack us. We kept praying and even sacrificed a few beasts to appease her, but it only increased her wrath. Our people started getting sick and dying. The sickness, which rapidly became known as the fire plague, burned them from the inside, melting their organs and killing them in a matter of days. It soon became apparent that nothing short of sacrificing a sentient being would make up for our lack of faith. That’s where you and your friends first came into play.”

  That explains why the korrigans tried to kill us. Now I just need to figure out why they chose to spare us.

  “We were planning on sacrificing one of our own when you and your friends stumbled into our territory,” continues the priest, glancing at the orange-haired korrigan. It takes a moment before I grasp the implications of such an action.

  “You were going to sacrifice him?” I ask, incredulous.

  The priest nods, unashamed.

  “He’s different. Korrigans view uniqueness as a flaw. Korri”—that must be his name—“was the most logical choice.”

  I now understand why the little guy seems so fascinated by me. Not only did my friends and I save his life by getting captured, but I quite literally took his place when I changed my appearance to match his. Of course, none of this was done on purpose, but his desire to stick close to me now makes sense. And now that I know the truth, I can’t help feeling protective of him.

  I take a moment to explain things to Jonn and Kara. Both seem surprised, though only Kara openly criticizes the korrigans’ actions.

  “A few days after the fire plague first appeared,” says the priest, “this painting”—he gestures to the mural—“materialized. It was a message from Korrigana, letting us know that, as long as we had faith, she would one day send us a saviour. He would rescue us from the plague by travelling to the Mountain of Fire”—that must be the mountain from the mural—“and speaking to Korrigana on our behalf.”

  “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through,” I say, “but what does any of this have to do with me?”

  The priest’s lips curl into a smile.

  “It was said that our saviour would come to us in disguise, and that, when the time came, he would reveal his true identity by changing appearance.”

  I want to argue this is a mistake, yet I have no way to do this. The korrigans are convinced I’m their saviour, and no amount of arguing on my part will change that. Nonetheless, I’m determined to try.

  “There’s something I don’t understand,” says Kara before I can come up with a decent argument. “Why would they try to sacrifice us if they knew a saviour was destined to rescue them?”

  “We waited nearly a year,” explains the priest once I have translated Kara’s question. “By then more than half of us had perished, and still more were dying on a daily basis. We had no choice but to sacrifice someone to appease the goddess’s wrath.”

  A heavy silence follows the priest’s revelation. I understand the motive, yet I can’t condone such rash behaviour. But who am I to judge?

  “What makes you think I’m this saviour?” I ask. “I know for a fact I’m not the only person capable of changing appearances.”

  The priest seems taken aback, but only for a second.

  “You’re the one who will save us all,” he claims. “I can prove it.” He stands up and walks over to the mural. He stands on his toes and reaches up, pointing to the man standing atop the mountain.

  “Look at his arm,” he urges.

  I stand up and join him. At first, I don’t understand what he’s referring to, then I finally see it. A small symbol has been painted on the man’s left wrist. My heart skips a beat at the sight of the familiar shape.

  It’s an hourglass.

  Memory 27

  T he hourglass symbol. I see it everywhere I go, yet I have no idea what it means. Part of me wants to b
elieve in the idea of a higher power and the possibility that my future has already been foretold, but deep down I know it’s impossible. No one can predict the future.

  “I can’t do this.” I’m not sure if I say it aloud or not. It doesn’t matter.

  I glance at my companions. Jonn seems indifferent. Kara looks sad, though I’m not sure why. All I know is I can’t handle the responsibility that has been thrust upon me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I flee the cavern.

  I don’t know where I’m going but anywhere is better than here. I hurry across the green pasture, dodging the hundreds of korrigans that now riddle it. They go about their business, barely even noticing me as I jump over hole after hole. I eventually reach the far side of the clearing and duck into the safety of the jungle. Following the trail that brought us here, I retrace our steps until I reach the sacrificial altar. I quickly scale the steps leading to it and, now completely alone, bury my face in my hands.

  I expect tears to stream down my cheeks, but none do. I feel lost, overwhelmed. I have trouble breathing; I’m suffocating under the weight of the responsibilities that have been placed upon me. So much has happened in the past few days, and none of it makes sense. I was dragged kicking and screaming into this insanity. The one time I chose to take action, I ended up saving the wrong person.

  “What’s wrong with me?” I groan.

  “Nothing,” says a familiar voice. I look up to find Kara walking toward me. She’s alone, which is good because I don’t think I could handle dealing with Jonn at the moment.

  I consider asking to be left alone, but I realize that’s the last thing I want.

  “Why is this happening to me?” I ask as Kara takes a seat beside me.

  “I don’t know,” she admits. “All I know is that you have an opportunity to bring hope to a population that sorely needs it.”

  I’m not sure I understand what she’s implying, and I don’t care.

  “What about me?” I ask. “Why can’t someone help me? I just want to go home and meet my mother. Is that too much to ask?”

  Kara doesn’t respond immediately.

  “The right thing to do is rarely the easy thing,” she tells me. “Right now, there’s nothing you can do to help yourself, but you have it within your power to help the korrigans.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kara tries to wrap her arm around my shoulder in a comforting gesture, but I shy away from her. I already have enough on my plate without having to deal with being trapped in a girl’s body.

  “Sorry,” she says, pulling away. We sit in silence for a moment before she answers my question.

  “The korrigans believe you’re their saviour,” she says. “While that may or may not be true, pretending you are will give them something they desperately crave.”

  “What?”

  “Hope.”

  “Isn’t giving them false hope worse than them having no hope at all?”

  Kara shrugs. “I don’t know, but I do know if you don’t give them what they want they will feel as though they have no choice but to sacrifice one of their own.”

  I think of Korri, and immediately realize Kara is right. Lying to the korrigans may feel wrong, but if doing so means saving an innocent life, then it’s what I have to do.

  “All right,” I finally agree. “I’ll do it.”

  “That’s the spirit,” says a voice from nearby. I look up to see Jonn walking toward us. I should be angry that he interrupted what was supposed to be a private conversation, but I’m not. Jonn and Kara are the closest things I’ve ever had to friends, and now more than ever, I’m in desperate need of companions.

  “What now?” I ask once Jonn has joined us.

  “We need to come up with a plan,” he says. For once, I completely agree with him.

  “Any suggestions?”

  “We must find Avalon,” says Kara. “Without her ring, there’s no way for us to get home.”

  “How are we supposed to find her?” I ask. “She could be anywhere. For all we know, she’s not even in this time. She may not even be the one who sent us here.”

  “She is,” claims Jonn. “Trust me.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Avalon is prideful,” explains Kara. “If she’s behind this, she’ll make sure we know it.”

  “And when she does,” says Jonn, “we’ll take her ring and use it to get home.”

  It sounds simple, but I can tell it will be anything but. Still, I refuse to give in to despair.

  “Okay,” I say. “How do we find her?”

  “We’ll find a way,” claims Kara. I’m not sure why, but I believe her. For the first time since arriving in this insane, dinosaur-infested time, I’m hopeful we’ll make it out alive. But only time will tell whether or not that’s wishful thinking.

  Memory 28

  S TOP!” yells one of the korrigans. The cry echoes throughout the clearing, ceasing all activity. Even Jonn freezes, his hands mere centimetres from the water’s surface.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said ‘stop,’” I translate.

  “Why?”

  I shrug as dozens of korrigans gather around us to see whether or not Jonn will heed their warning. The tension is palpable, yet not a single korrigan speaks. It’s not until the grey-haired soldier retreats from the water’s edge that the tension finally evaporates.

  Silence is all I hear as my friends and I all ask ourselves the same question; why don’t they want us drinking from the river? I’m about to speak it aloud when a familiar voice reaches my ears.

  “Make way,” says the korrigan priest as he pushes through the crowd.

  “What happened here?” he asks when he finally reaches us.

  “My friend tried to drink from the river,” I explain, “but your people wouldn’t let him.”

  Horror washes across the priest’s face.

  “Did he drink?” he asks in a shrill voice. “Please tell me he didn’t drink!”

  “No,” I assure him. “He didn’t drink.”

  The korrigan breathes a sigh of relief while my companions and I exchange a perplexed glance.

  “What’s the big deal?” asks Jonn. “I was thirsty. Is that a crime?”

  “Of course not,” says the priest once I have translated the soldier’s words. “The river is sacred. It flows down from the Mountain of Fire. Allowing a non-korrigan to drink from it would be sacrilegious.”

  “That’s stupid,” says Jonn once I tell him what I learned.

  Kara seems more preoccupied with our wellbeing.

  “How will we survive?” she asks.

  She’s right. We won’t last a week without water.

  “Don’t worry,” says the priest once I’ve apprised him of my friend’s concern. “You three”—he points to three korrigans at random—“fetch our guests some refreshments.”

  The korrigans run off and return less than a minute later with what appears to be three short logs. It’s not until I take the object being offered to me that I understand what it is.

  It’s a glass.

  I sniff the orange liquid before gulping it down. It’s sweet and sour, not to mention incredibly delicious and highly satiating.

  “Thank you,” I say as I return the glass to the korrigan who handed it to me. “My friends and I appreciate your hospitality,” I add, turning to the korrigan priest.

  “We would do anything for our saviour,” he says, staring at me intently. “You are our saviour, aren’t you?”

  This is it. My one chance to reject my claim to the title of saviour of the korrigans. The last thing I want is to give the poor humanoids a false sense of hope, but Kara was right when she said the right thing to do is not always the easy thing.

  “Yes,” I say. “I’m your saviour.”

  A cheer rises. I instantly regret my decision, but it’s too late. I have staked my claim as saviour and nothing short of a miracle—or a catastrophe—will convince the korrigans otherwise
.

  “Great,” says the priest once the cheering has died down. “Now let’s build you a burrow.”

  “A what?” I ask.

  “A burrow.”

  “I… I’m not sure I understand,” I admit. “Why would we need a burrow?”

  The priest seems puzzled.

  “To sleep, of course.”

  I know he’s only trying to help, but I’m now more confused than ever. It’s not until I notice the hundreds of holes that stand around us that it finally makes sense.

  “Oh,” I gasp. “You live in burrows.”

  The priest nods. “It’s the only way to stay safe. The forest can be a dangerous place at night. Living underground also allows us to stay cool during hot days.”

  It makes sense.

  “What’s going on?” asks Jonn.

  I take a moment to explain what I just learned, as well as the priest’s offer to build us a burrow.

  “There’s no way I’m sleeping in a hole,” says the hulking man.

  “Why not?” I ask. The thought of sleeping underground may be odd, but it sounds fun. Plus, it will keep the dinosaurs at bay.

  “I’m not an animal,” says Jonn, crossing his arms.

  I glance at Kara, and she shakes her head to indicate that not even she can change her father’s mind.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell the priest, “but my friends would prefer staying above ground.”

  “Where will you sleep?” he asks.

  “We could stay in the cave,” suggests Kara before I can translate. “The one with the painting.”

  I repeat the suggestion for the priest. He smiles and nods.

  “Very well,” he says. “You and your friends get settled in. My people will bring you food and bedding supplies.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “Anything for our saviour,” responds the priest.

  A pang of guilt throbs through me, but I ignore it.

  My friends and I make our way back to the cavern. On the way, I notice Korri following us, though he always remains at least a few metres behind. He’s an odd character, but at least he doesn’t treat me like the hero I’m pretending to be.

  In less than an hour, my friends and I are all settled in. My possessions are made up of two sleeping furs, a pair of dirty white pants, and a sweat-stained t-shirt. It’s not much, but I’m accustomed to surviving with little. The only thing I truly need is millions of years in the future. I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever see my mother’s ring again.