by Kevin C Noel
“He is!” he yelled, as more a tool for self-reassurance than one to convince his inquisitive Assenter. “I saw him die with my own eyes!” Kal shakily pointed an accusing finger at Hagen. “You were meant to investigate him.”
“And I have. I have received reports about the boy. There is nothing particularly fascinating about him. He was cornered by mere lost souls on the border and could not save himself—Ingrid was his savior.”
“What if he’s pretending? Trying to throw us off his scent.”
“My sources do not believe so.”
“And have you seen him yourself?”
Hagen shook his head slightly. Kal turned his back to him and pondered, a frown fixed on his visage. The very existence of such an individual was an insult. Kal knew that his appearance would be greeted with curiosity and admiration. Incardians were the proudest of Atrumans. The very thought of something powerful enough to smite them existing fascinated some of them. They all wondered who could withstand something that could kill gods. They’d believe such a person should be followed. Kal believed their first instinct would be to make him the new High Lord. This impostor would render him obsolete.
This he could not allow.
He turned to Hagen. The frown on his face had been replaced by a stern look of purpose and determination. “Let us greet these Ninks, Hagen. I’m dying to meet them.”
At the center of the implausibly massive palace was a circular rostrum. On it were five chairs and a singular throne decked with precious stones. Rested on its arm was a scepter much akin to those wielded by monarchs and religious leaders. The floor was a reflective tiling which contributed to the chilly atmosphere and the constant sound of clicking heels. The lighting above them was just as surreal as everything else Garrick had seen upon his arrival. He could only describe what he saw as floating flames of varying colors dancing around the ceiling.
He could stare in awe freely because every other Nink was doing the same. They were all equally thrilled by this new place. This new experience. This new life. Garrick noted that, for a room filled with hundreds of people, it was really quiet. There was no communication whatsoever between Ninks. It was almost as if everyone was warned to keep quiet by their respective Questioners; everyone but him. Garrick’s tendency to keep to himself was more a force of habit than anything else. Growing up in Reading, he had become accustomed to keeping quiet and drawing little attention to himself during gatherings.
Some time went by before four men emerged from one end of the room. One was much bigger than most people Garrick had ever seen. The men sat down on the chairs except one of them who wielded a massive broadsword. He walked to the edge of the rostrum and looked down at the many Ninks gawking at him and raised his head up high in self-aggrandizement.
“The Incardian race is above all others,” he began. “This is a truth you must all accept. Our powers have not been fully explored and yet among us are some of the most powerful Atrumans the world has known. Despite our power, it has become necessary for us to be discreet in our dealings on Earth. The Incardians must embrace anonymity for the time being as has been agreed in the Azmaveth Agreements by all Atrumans.” He placed his sword over his shoulder as he fixed his eyes on a few Ninks in the audience.
“I will be plain,” he continued. “Many won’t be consented to. It has become common knowledge that not all Questioners are fully prepared for this ceremony and have thus ill-trained their Assenters. By testing you, we test them. Those of you who succeed will remain in Terraincardia until the burst of the Oneness.” For the first time, there was murmuring among the Ninks. This show of confusion and curiosity irritated Wayland and he stamped the tip of his broadsword on the hard ground. Everyone soon acknowledged this gesture and kept silent.
“This,” he continued, pointing at his broadsword, “is the Orlock Claymore. It is the only weapon capable of killing an Incardian in Terraincardia. It has been placed under my care because I have shown unflinching fealty to my master—our Master—and I have no problem whatsoever putting it to use. Is that clear?” No verbal response followed, but the perturbed look on everyone’s face was answer enough. Some, like Garrick, observed the sword with keen enthusiasm. “Whenever the High Lord wills it, the flames of the Oneness expand and erupt with volcanic force. You leave through the flames and won’t return until the next Ceremony of Consent. Those of you who are not consented to will not be allowed to leave and will roam this world until the next ceremony.”
He turned to face the others. “These noble Incardians behind me represent Terraincardia. We are the Gore Council. Think of us as…Governors. We are responsible for the running of the different sections of Terraincardia. With time, you shall come to know us all. Normally, the High Lord of Terraincardia would be here to address you. But you will have to wait for that honor a little longer.”
The murmuring in the room resumed suddenly. It had started from the main entrance and intensified gradually. Soon, the source of this intense babble was clear to Garrick. A slender man wearing a purple knee length jacket had walked into the room. His clean-shaven features were made clearer by his most astonishing headwear. On his head was a swirling flaming crown. With him, was another taller man; Garrick was unsure why he looked so familiar.
“Lord Kalder,” gasped Wayland. “We thought…”
Kal silenced him with a wave of his hand. As he made his way through the throng toward the rostrum while flanked by the other man, he avoided eye contact with everyone. Once he was on it, the remaining four men stood upright and slightly bowed their heads. Kal scanned the crowd with his dark eyes. “Why are you here? Why were you chosen? Was it the Oneness? Or are you all pawns in an elaborate game between unseen players? Are you truly meant to be an Incardian? Were you ever human?” Kal picked up the scepter from his throne and rested it on his shoulder. “Are we truly gods? Are we truly immortal? These are questions that should linger in your minds for the duration of your stay here. The answers to some are apparent; others, not so much. We must know the questions to ask ourselves because they sharpen us and keep us on our toes. The greatness of the Incardian does not lie in strength alone. It goes beyond that. It’s also in our intelligence. If you falter in that regard, the Orlock Claymore will be used.” The Ninks exchanged troubling looks. “I give you the Lords Wayland, Yair, Kira, Babacar…” he said as he pointed at the Incardians behind him, then he pointed at the tall one who followed him in and said, “and Hagen! They will oversee all of you. Be aware that they shall always keep their eyes on you. Impress them and you impress me.”
Garrick felt a coldness in his belly. His eyes were warming up and dewy. His fists were clenched and trembling. “Ha… Hagen?” he thought. He looked up at the man who had followed Kal into the room and suddenly realized why he looked so familiar.
He turned to leave immediately. He couldn’t linger because he knew his rage would soon get the better of him. For a human being that would mean a simple minute act of stupidity. For an Incardian, it meant carnage. He had to calm down or he would Glare. In such a gathering, that could be taken as a sign of weakness. And from the High Lord’s speech, weakness would make a horrible first impression.
Outside, he struggled with his precipitous rage. The source of all his woes; the man who brought her—who brought Celina into his life—he was an Incardian Lord.
A very unfortunate coincidence.
“How dare you walk out in the middle of the High Lord’s speech, Nink?”
The voice was just as he remembered it from the night he first met him. Gentle yet stern and authoritative. Garrick dreaded having to look over his shoulder at him. “I’m talking to you, Nink!”
Garrick straightened and turned around slowly. Once they were face to face, he realized Hagen did not recognize him. He considered this in relief and slowly began to answer. “I apologize. I felt a bit nauseous.”
“Nonsense,” Hagen shot back. “Who are you, Nink? Who is your Questioner?”
For the first time, Garrick saw it. The pompo
sity; the look of dread in his blue eyes. He could see the resemblance to Celina. And he hated him even more. The fact he was her father—the one who created her to make his life miserable—that was enough reason to hate him. “Of what use is my name to you?” he asked, his penchant for rebellion suddenly finding its way out of him.
Hagen quailed slightly at such a show of arrogance and insubordination. “I will ignore that because you are a Nink. Be insolent again and I shall have Wayland slice you in half.”
“You don’t recognize me, Uncle Hagen?” asked Garrick.
Hagen didn’t know whether to yell in anger or laugh at the absurdity. “Uncle?!” he retorted.
Garrick turned to leave and managed a few steps away from Hagen as he temporarily regained his senses and realized he had come so close to putting his life in danger. But this was temporary. Not long after, Garrick turned again and stormed toward his fearsome uncle. Then, with as much strength as he could muster, he yelled: “It’s me! Garrick! Garrick Hartmann!”
JULY 1946. READING, NEW HAMPSHIRE
“Wanna see my room?” asked a beaming Garrick. Celina turned to face her father for permission. Hagen nodded, and she turned toward Garrick and smiled as well. “I’ll race you there.” Almost as soon as he said it, he regretted it. He wasn’t athletic but assumed he would at least be faster than a girl.
He was wrong.
Celina accepted his challenge by dashing toward the stairs. Garrick struggled to keep up, but she had given him a lengthy gap. He could hear Hagen chuckling softly as his daughter displayed her power over a boy.
“Wait!” screamed Garrick. “You don’t even know where my room is!”
Hagen turned to Delilah, a more serious look on his face. “I need to speak to my brother. Where’s Jared?” Delilah pointed toward the basement door.
Celina lay on Garrick’s bed looking through his comic books. “You sure like superheroes,” she said.
“Don’t you?” he asked, surprised a pretty girl was lying on his bed.
Celina shrugged. “I mean, they’re okay. It’s just that the whole thing is dominated by men.”
“Many things are dominated by men.” Celina shot him a scornful look. “I mean… I’m not saying it’s right.”
Celina suddenly smirked. And he blushed. “Even the female superheroes are laughable,” she said. “Look at Wonder Woman. She only exists to be a female Superman. Apart from that, she’s not a very interesting character. It’s like those comic book people had a meeting and said ‘how are we going to please them nagging girls so they can start buying our comic books? I know! Let’s make a female Superman and call her Wonderful Woman! No, that doesn’t sound right. Wonder Woman! Much better. Because whenever she walks into the room, all men look at her in wonder.’”
Garrick was already rolling on the floor in laughter. He had never met a girl with such a witty sense of humor. “Come on, Wonder Woman is an interesting character. I don’t understand her very much, but she’s her own thing. Imagine if they created a Superwoman or something, and she’d be Superman’s wife or sister.”
Celina held her tummy and pretended to throw up. “I think the last thing we girls need are female versions of buff male superheroes. We should have our own unique ones. Women who can make it on their own.”
“How old are you again?” Garrick asked incredulously.
Celina giggled. “I know. I talk too much for my age. But daddy taught me to be expressive.”
“Well, that’s good.” Celina merely smiled and shrugged as she picked up another comic book. “Dad says I’m a contrarian. It means I’d rather think the opposite of what everybody else is thinking. I’m naturally going to disagree with everyone,” she laughed.
Garrick said nothing for a while and studied his new cousin. She was the prettiest girl he’d ever met.
“Garrick?” she said. “You’re staring.”
His face went hot. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just… thinking.”
“About?”
“Fantomah!” he blurted out.
“Who?”
“She’s a female superhero. And she’s awesome. Whenever she wanted to fight, she’d turn into this blue skull-faced superhero and she could fly and totally kick some bad guy butt. I have a few issues in the basement. Would you like me to get them?
“Sure,” she said. “Don’t be long.”
In the basement, Garrick noticed his father having a conversation with Hagen. His first instinct was to leave. Jared never liked it when he bothered him, so he had learned to stay out of his way. Yet, overcome by a sudden inquisitiveness, he decided to hang back and listen in on them. The first thing he gathered from the tone of their conversation was that the two were not overly fond of each other.
“You think because you’re now the hotshot doctor, you can come in here and talk to me however you please?” growled Jared.
“There you go again with the inferiority complex,” retorted Hagen. “You don’t always have to bring up my profession whenever we have a disagreement. Someone would think we aren’t brothers.”
“We’re half-brothers so they would be half right.” Jared took a gulp of his beer. “Now, I’m sure you didn’t come here to remind me of how much of a failure I am, Hagen. What the fuck do you want?”
“You know I care about you, Jared. It’s why I left you dad’s house.”
“Shove it.”
Hagen sighed exasperatedly. “Anyway, I came with my daughter, Celina.”
“When did you have a daughter?”
“About the same time your son was born and I brought him to you. I need you to take care of her for me.”
“You need what?”
“You will become her legal guardian.”
“The hell I will! You think you can just come in here after all these years and drop your brat in my house for me to take care of? No way! You better get your shit together, Hagen, because there’s no way in hell I’m gonna take your daughter in and spend my own money to…”
Hagen stood up and emptied his bag on the table. Both Jared and the snooping Garrick were shocked at the amount of money sprawled out all over the table. An amount they had never seen in their entire lives.
“A hundred thousand dollars,” said Hagen. “You will receive this exact amount every year until she’s eighteen. I’m delivering this myself, but from next year someone else will get it to you. I say this because you won’t see me ever again. And you are to use this money to care for my daughter. Take care of yourself and your family second. You are to care for her completely. Do you understand me?”
Jared gulped. “Where did you get this money?”
Hagen smirked. “Let’s not waste time with stupid questions. We both know you don’t care.”
“Hey, I don’t want the police knocking on my door.”
“This money has been earned legitimately. You don’t need to worry about the police. So, do we have a deal, brother?”
“Won’t you say goodbye to Celina?” Garrick asked. Hagen was already outside when he had mustered up the courage to confront him.
Hagen looked down at the inquisitive eleven-year-old. “I’m not abandoning her, you know,” he finally said. “She’ll be cared for. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Does she know you’re leaving her here?”
With a reassuring smile, Hagen nodded and placed a hand on Garrick’s shoulder. “I’m sure the two of you will get on just fine. Watch out for her.”
“I might as well,” he said. “My dad’s not very good at taking care of me, and I’m his son.”
Hagen guffawed intensely. “Yes. Keep an eye on him too.”
“Will you ever come back?”
“I don’t know,” he answered diffidently, “I certainly hope so.”
“Where are you going?”
“Ah, there’s a question I cannot answer.” Hagen hunkered down. “I’ve discovered something, Garrick. And this discovery has led me to a path I must take alone. So, for her safety, she must remain he
re.”
Garrick was overcome by a raging flood of sadness. He was also gladdened by the prospects of having one as pretty, funny and intelligent as Celina living in the same house as him. This rush of emotion suddenly made his eyes itch and he rubbed them uncontrollably.
“Whoa, take it easy there, son. You’ll scratch your eyes out. Let me take a look,” said Hagen. Immediately he noted his pupils had dilated. “Hmmm, mydriasis,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Your pupils have dilated… it’s called mydriasis.” Suddenly, Hagen was struck by something else. The boy’s irises, which he was pretty sure were hazel brown earlier, were a bright emerald green. “Garrick, what color are your eyes?” he asked bemusedly.
Garrick, as if stricken by a fulminant fear, stepped away from his uncle. “I… I,” he stuttered. “I don’t know.”
Hagen chuckled. “But of course, you do. You must have seen them in the mirror before, right?”
“They’re always different,” he blurted out again. “I don’t know what color they are now.”
Hagen gradually stood upright. His inner doctor was curious beyond measure at this unusual condition and was pushing him to examine the child further. But he had a greater calling and could not afford to waste any more time. “Well, I’m sure there’s a perfectly rational explanation. Tell your father to take you to an ophthalmologist.” Garrick raised a Questioning eyebrow. “I mean an eye doctor, Garrick. Goodbye, and be good to Celina.”
He shook Garrick’s hand and entered a black 1940 Ford sedan without a backward glance and drove away leaving him with the impression that he was a great uncle and it was a pity that that would probably be the last time he would see him.
As he turned to walk back into the house, he noticed someone was staring at him from his bedroom window. With the lights on behind her, Celina was a shadowy figure whose facial features were obscured. Yet for a fleeting moment, he saw her face clearly and thought she looked too stern for an eleven-year-old girl.
Little did he know that the expression on her face was one of absolute dread.
