Coming to Power

by T J Marquis

  When he wasn’t too exhausted from the work, or from training in the afternoons with Bahabe, he made it a point to hang around after dinner and get to know everyone. It turned out Eleana was near his own age, and they shared long conversations comparing life in the village to that of Jon’s homeworld. She had a way of getting him to speak more than he normally might, and he felt it wasn’t just because of her beauty. She was a vastly different kind of person than her sister, and she had her own kind of charm. This evening she was asking him about cars as they sat finishing their dinners.

  “So they burn the bones of large beasts,” she was trying to understand the engine.

  Jon chuckled, “No, remember, the dead things turn into oil, and we take that oil and process it into a liquid that burns a bit at a time.”

  “Ah ok, and they could traverse the island in less than an hour?” She was enthralled by the idea.

  “Well if there were roads, or at least a wide, beaten path. It’s best if the ground you drive on is flat and clean.”

  She cocked her head and adopted a dreamy look. “To think all this time, I wished for a mere horse-drawn carriage! Not that there’s anywhere to go,” she pouted.

  “Another one with wanderlust huh?” Jon asked. “Would you go, if you could?”

  “Oh my sister’s dream of leaving is a little different,” her tone suggested the faintest disdain. “I just want a bigger life. More people around, more places to go, like in the cities you talk about,” she smiled sheepishly, “more dresses. Does that make sense?”

  Jon pushed his bowl away, empty now, and rested his elbows on the table, chin on his fists. “I used to feel that way too,” he sighed, “but then I got pretty much whatever I wanted.”

  “Too many dresses to handle, yes?”

  They laughed.

  “You became wealthy because you sold the wares of the medicine men?” she recalled.

  Jon assented with a chuckle. “Ha, yeah, close enough.”

  “You seem sad when you talk about the place, your home,” Eleana observed. She reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her skin.

  “It had all begun to feel grey, I guess. Yeah, I was sad,” he confirmed. “It’s already getting dimmer though. You’ve all been so great to me here,” he sat up straight again, turned toward her. She squeezed his shoulder and took her hand back. Jon looked around as he said, “The island is so vibrant, the night so silent. It feels like medicine, the kind that works.”

  Eleana smiled, “I’m glad it’s good for you, Jon.” Her face fell slightly, “It’s a little grey for me. But Elder says big things are coming, so I wait.”

  Jon wasn’t sure how to get into the subject of the island’s development for tourism, so he said nothing.

  Days stretched into weeks, and the people of Sem-bado began to prepare for a much-awaited festival. Jon and Bahabe were torn for a number of days from their training to help with the seemingly endless preparations of food, games and decor. It was time to ring in the new year!

  The two had been set to painting several dozen lanterns and were stationed together in a corner of the village square. Their little chic-bul friend had somehow tracked them down after they’d stopped trekking out to the cove every day at lunch. He pecked absently at the dirt of the square.

  “Every five hundred days the mountain flies its nearest,” Bahabe was explaining, “and that’s how we mark the year.”

  “Wow, so that coincides with the earth’s rotation around the sun?” Jon asked.

  “The earth goes around the sun?” she asked in surprise.

  Jon laughed, “Well at least as far as I know. It never occurred to me you guys hadn’t heard.”

  “Psh, that’s silly,” she waved him off. “We’d be able to feel it moving.”

  Jon thought to take the lesson further, but let it be instead.

  “So anyhow,” the girl continued, “it should be all lit up on the night of the Passing. With your eyes, you might even be able to see the temple dome.”

  Over the last week or so, it had become apparent to both of them that Jon’s senses had been heightened by his infusion of Light. Through thorough testing, they had determined that Jon could see clearly at least twice as far as Bahabe, and she was known for sharp vision. Jon also noticed that if he focused, he could hear sounds from the village all the way out to the cove. Naturally, these abilities had piqued his interest yet further, and he’d begun to experiment with something really fun.

  “You think you’d be able to make it that far,” Bahabe asked him.

  “Up to the top?” he shook his head, “I don’t think I’ve got the stamina yet. It’s rough enough that lifting myself the way I do other objects seems impossible. I can barely shake the disbelief long enough to get my boots off the ground.” He glanced down at his boots as if it were their fault.

  “Yeah well you made it that far,” she encouraged him.

  “But I promise, if I get it under foot,” he said earnestly while she scoffed at the pun, “you will be the first to get a ride.”

  “I have your word,” she stated with the raising of an eyebrow.

  “You do,” he winked.

  Now it was the eve of the new year festival, and a feast nearly as hearty as the one to be had the next day had been served to reward everyone’s hard work. Elder Nak-sakharesh mingled with his people, beaming at their efforts and artistry in preparing the village for celebration. He was more generous and full of praise than ever before since this year his special guests would be in attendance for the party. Jon and Bahabe still hadn’t seen the Elder’s apparent business partners from the mainland in person, but supposedly they would be coming in from the northern docks for the festival, having spent the last several weeks surveying the island and making plans for their investment. This Bahabe had gleaned from her sessions of spying on the Elder with her magic, despite not being able to hear the words that were said.

  So all the villagers enjoyed full stomachs and extra libations this night, but Jon had retired to his bed in Marnha’s hut, idly studying one of Bahabe’s books. The hour grew late, and neither the girl nor her father had returned home.

  There was a knock on the thatch door, and Jon said, “Come in.”

  The door opened and Eleana entered the little hut. She wore a bright orange dress and a sweet smile. Dark, loose curls brushed her shoulders.

  “Hey Eleana,” Jon greeted, sitting up in his bed. “You don’t have to knock, it’s your dad’s place isn’t it?”

  She shrugged and smiled, “Just in case you weren’t decent.”

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Oh nothing,” she said with a breath and sat on the bed in the middle of the room. “Everything’s just been so rushed lately - Elder’s kept me so busy with his guests. I’m ready for a break.”

  “Yeah I get you,” Jon said.

  “You’ve been working hard,” she said.

  “Feel’s nice, I have to admit,” she looked at him closely, and he fingered his growing beard a bit self-consciously. “Back home the work took its toll up here,” he tapped his forehead.

  “I can’t imagine,” Eleana chuckled. “So, I’ve got a problem.” Jon waited. “I’ve been thinking, and I have to admit - I’m a little jealous of my sister.”

  “Bahabe?” he said. “What’s she got?”

  Eleana chuckled, “Boys,” she gave her eyes a half-roll. “She’s got all that time with you, of course. Running off, carefree, galavanting in the jungle. I was just thinking, I wouldn’t mind some more time with you too.” She hooded her eyes with a look downward, and the paint on her eyelids glistened in the candlelight.

  Jon had enjoyed his conversations with Eleana, found her engaging and genuinely nice, and he was fairly surprised by this forwardness. He was no stranger to women, but in his current state couldn’t figure out what to say.

  “It has been hectic, hasn’t it?” he offered. Thinking on his past with girls, he was surprised to find himse
lf uncharacteristically reserved. His head-space lay elsewhere.

  Eleana looked up earnestly at him and spoke with a slightly urgent tone, “I just want you to understand how I feel.” Her fingers went up to the straps of her dress and she slipped them off her shoulders. The loose orange cloth began to glide across her skin and fall away.

  “Whoa,” Jon exclaimed and lifted his hands in a warding gesture. Again, he felt like he hardly knew himself. Would he normally say no to this?

  Eleana held her dress up, looking genuinely puzzled. “What’s wrong, Jon?” Her brow furrowed in an adorable wrinkle of soft skin.

  “I,” he stammered, “I would have… I just can’t. Bahabe might think…” he said it a little lower.

  A strain of anger lit behind her dark eyes, and Eleana put her straps back in place. “The way you’ve been looking at me… and who knows what you two have been doing out in the woods.” Eleana’s eyes glistened with moisture, but Jon could not bring himself to trust her in this moment. Her demeanor had flipped so suddenly. Were these real feelings she displayed? What had she expected from him?

  She stood, tossed her hair flippantly. A few small tears cut through her mascara and trailed down her cheeks as she turned toward the door. “No one’s ever turned me down before,” she said, “there won’t be another chance.” She whisked through the door in a huff, leaving Jon perplexed and stunned.

  He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d resisted her advances, but suddenly he was very glad he had.

  Jon revisited the scene over and over again as he continued to stare at Bahabe’s book. What had he done wrong? He wanted to share this with her when she returned at last, having spent the last few hours sharing tales over the fire with her dad and his friends as they drank. But they came home together, bright and happy, and Jon couldn’t bear to recount the incident in front of Marnha. He’d tell her later.

  Eventually, they all wound down to sleep, but a seed of unease had settled in the pit of Jon’s stomach, and he woke up from his nightly nightmare all the sweatier.

  Elder Nak-sakharesh was poring over his ledgers when Eleana entered without knocking.

  “I already cracked it open for you,” he said, gesturing to a narrow altar at his left. “We can do it here tonight - the girl won’t be watching.”

  She gasped and rushed to the altar to inspect. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she complained. “When it’s not fresh they lose some memories.” She scowled, but he wasn’t looking, and merely waved her off.

  “Bah,” he grumbled. “We have more than we need already.”

  Eleana let the matter drop - there was no sense in arguing with this man. She went about poking and prodding the bloody chic bul on the altar.

  “Say, aren’t you back a little fast?” the Elder asked, glancing at his timepiece.

  Eleana huffed and did not respond. He gave her a cat-like grin and chuckled mockingly.

  “Heh. I thought he might turn you down. He’s been chaste as a priest with that pretty little sister of yours.”

  “Not really my sister,” Eleana muttered.

  “No matter,” the Elder continued. “It’ll be my word against his.” He set his work aside, leaned back and crossed his legs, watching her hands on the little bird. “Anything good today?”

  “Mmm,” she breathed, letting him wait. Reading the memories of the cursed little chic bul required finesse, patience, and accuracy. A light touch here and there on its exposed brain, a short wait as the information blossomed in her mind. At length, Eleana stitched the top of the bird’s skull back on and took it in her hands. Behind her on a narrow table was a squat vase full of black liquid, in which she immersed the little creature. After a few moments, it began to convulse in her hands, and when it stilled, she set it out on a towel to dry. It flopped around pathetically at first, dark liquid clinging to its feathers like a thin tar, but gradually it calmed and began to rub itself dry on the towel. She licked the blood from her fingers absently.

  “Splendid work,” Nak-sakharesh grinned, “as always. So?”

  “Just talking about their magic, like every other day,” she answered. “Seems he may have discovered a way to reach the mountain. She’s still spying on you, probably knows almost everything about the deal with the north shore, but she doesn’t seem to be planning to do anything about it.”

  “Bah,” he growled again. “She won’t do anything. But the mountain you say? That would be something.” The Elder stood and took Eleana’s unwashed hands in his. “I teased you, but I do wish he had taken the bait. It would have made things much easier. And you deserve the pleasure of young flesh as much as I do.”

  She looked into his eyes, suddenly tender after these many minutes of disregard. “Well,” she breathed and crossed her arms over her chest, turning away slightly, “Maybe once he’s under your thumb there’ll be another chance.”

  “That’s my girl,” the Elder smiled and cupped her barely curved belly in two hands. “Never give up.” He looked down at the reams of paper on his desk and sighed, “Well I think we’ve done all we can for today. Let’s head home.”

  She nodded and picked up the little bird, released it through a window. They cleaned up the altar and divination tools, blew out the candles, and locked up the Elder’s office for the night.

  The morning of the festival had come, and everyone had the day off but the cooks. Breakfast and lunch were both more opulent than usual, and stories, songs and games pervaded the day. As the afternoon wound into evening the festivities grew more fevered and less reserved. Drink was abundant and food had become of secondary importance. Songs grew more raucous and the drummers played faster and louder as more and more villagers joined in the dancing. Fire-spinners lit their poi and dazzled everyone with dangerous tricks that sent sparks flying into the night. Now and then couples both new and old would wander off home or elsewhere and not return, but most of the people hung around in anticipation of the mountain’s nearest passing.

  Jon was in the mood to reconcile, but Eleana completely avoided his gaze. Bahabe seemed to notice but did not inquire. She spent the hour before the big moment teaching Jon one of Sem-bado’s easier traditional dances, and they laughed together as he stumbled around the bonfire.

  As the mountain grew imperceptibly nearer, the crowd quieted itself and caught its breath. The Elder watched his beloved timepiece, but everyone else waited patiently, and suddenly the white light erupted from the mountain. From here it was a beam as wide as a finger, which shot into the stratosphere and disappeared beyond sight. Glints of light played across the facets of the hard-to-resolve crystal protrusions that lined the perimeter of the mountain’s upper surface. Here and there those smaller crystal formations refracted the white light into shards of rainbow.

  Bahabe beamed as Jon stood transfixed. “That almost never happens!” She cried.

  She stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss her father on the cheek, then turned toward Jon, seemed to have a thought, and gave him a tight hug. He hugged her back warmly.

  Up from the ocean westward there reached tendrils of multi-colored lights, twisting like restless arcs of electricity as they searched for contact with the mountain’s lowest tip. Bahabe had told Jon this particular phenomenon only occurred on those rare nights when the beacon lit. Clearly, there was some connection between those fabled crystals of the open sea and the mountain that traversed the skies every night, but no one could say what it was. The ethereal light show continued until nearly everyone’s awe was spent, and the mountain gradually drifted out of sight. One by one the villagers of Sem-bado began to call it a night and head home. Jon and Bahabe were among the last to turn in.

  “So?” she asked, ”are you gonna try?”

  Jon was fairly certain he’d fail, and scrunched up his face in an unsure expression. If he ran out of energy or had any doubts out there, thousands of feet above open sea, he could very well fall to his death. At the same time, such power as he had just begged for boldness and creativity.


  “I’m afraid,” he admitted. “But I’ll go.” He set his expression firmly and Bahabe laughed to see his seriousness. “Hey come on, making fun doesn’t help,” he complained, but smiled.

  She laid a hand on his shoulder and mimicked a very serious look, “I believe in you.”

  “Thanks.”

  They took their usual path out of the village and stopped at the small clearing where they’d often met the little chic bul. It would be a good place for Jon to launch from. He took long, slow breaths, as if preparing to lift heavy weights.

  “Be confident,” Bahabe told him. “Don’t doubt it, and get close to the light as quick as you can. I have a hunch.”

  “Ok,” Jon said, breathing out and setting his resolve. “Here we go.” He began to lift himself up, steady now at this minuscule height, from many days of practice. Only when his feet came even with the tops of the lowest trees did the nerves begin to set in. He tried to keep his breaths deep and measured.

  Bahabe beamed up at him enthusiastically. “Just go for it Jon,” she called. “Time is the enemy tonight, be swift!”

  She was right of course, but Jon’s nerves continued to tingle. It reminded him of his first time skydiving. Cal had finally had to push him out of the plane. Remembering Calvin resuscitated Jon’s resolve, and he straightened his body and pushed himself upward. Bahabe cheered from below as Jon picked up speed. He cleared the jungle’s canopy and the mountain came into view in the southwest, still crawling along and agitating all the distant crystals.

  He sensed the energy draining from all the muscles in his body, but it felt slower and more distant than before. He still hadn’t really figured out why the use of his powers had a physical consequence. It seemed to be some analog to having performed the actions he did in a natural way. The act of lifting one hundred sixty pounds of man hundreds of feet into the air had every right to be taxing beyond what his body could bear. He couldn’t imagine carrying a person his own weight more than twenty or thirty yards without becoming fatigued.