The Magic Book

by Fredric Shernoff

  Achmis sniffed and wiped at his face with his arm. “They…they took her to the square. They said she’ll be presented as a warning to others. My Esther…they’re going to humiliate her! Hurt her!”

  “No,” Nathaniel said, rising to his feet. “No. We are going to the square now to bring an end to this.” He looked directly at Achmis. “I’m sorry, my friend. I never wanted to bring this on you or Esther.”

  Achmis shook his head. “Never mind that. Let’s make this right.”

  In the center of the enclave, just like in all enclaves in the world, stood a town square. The lone exception was the capital in the heart of the world, which contained the spire in its center instead. Nathaniel and Achmis entered the square, which was lit by so many torches it looked almost like it did in the daytime.

  Achmis gasped and pointed. Esther was held on a small scaffolding in the center of the square. She was on her knees with her arms bound above her and a cloth tied around her mouth. Her arms hung from an overhead beam. She saw Nathaniel and Achmis and her eyes went wide.

  “Those motherfuckers!” Achmis raged. “I’ll kill them all for even thinking of touching her!”

  “Steady,” Nathaniel cautioned. He walked up to the scaffold. Four guards stood at the base in a line, brandishing weapons like those that had taken him down at the top of the wall.

  “Evening, Great One,” one of them said with a sneer. Nathaniel thought the voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t say with certainty that it belonged to the man who had ordered his execution.

  “You gentlemen have made a mistake,” Nathaniel said. He kept his voice even and low.

  “Nay,” the guard said. “We’ve done nothing of the sort.” He turned to another of the guards, who handed him a scroll. The first guard unrolled it and read. “By the power of the Authority, it has been found that Achmis, son of Clovis, has been a knowing party to suspicious and treasonous acts against the world.”

  Nathaniel sneered. “And you would take an innocent woman and humiliate her because of these alleged crimes?”

  “I wonder if any in your circle are truly innocent, Nate,” said a voice.

  Nathaniel turned and saw Gustavus approaching. Achmis started forward, and Nate put a hand on his friend’s chest.

  “I warned you, Nathaniel,” Gustavus said. “As gently as could be. This could have all been avoided. You’re a Great One. You could have as much time left in the world as many of us here, but you could have lived it in utter comfort. And yet, you continue to disrupt the order of things.”

  “Let Esther go,” Nathaniel said. “Let her and her husband return to their home. Your grievance remains with me.”

  “Would that I could,” Gustavus said. “You see, you put me in a very awkward position. Your attempts to scale the wall could have been written off as a suicide attempt. Nobody would question it, after everything you’ve lived through. But my ‘ears’ picked up your conversation with Achmis. And that created a dilemma. You’ve committed treason, Nathaniel. And the penalty for that is death. But how to kill a Great One? Not to mention that icky issue of public appearance. Someone had to take the fall, and out of the kindness of my heart I decided to let Achmis off easy. A simple public shaming to teach a lesson.”

  Gustavus frowned. “But then before we could even act…that whole thing with the tree. What? Didn’t you think we’d be watching? You couldn’t leave well enough alone, Nathaniel. No matter how much we hurt you, no matter how we threatened you. Nothing gets through to you.” Now his smile returned. “Well, maybe this will make an impact, Great One.”

  Gustavus nodded to the guards. They aimed their weapons at Esther. Nathaniel dove into the pack of men and tackled two of them to the ground, their weapons firing into the air. He heard Achmis scream.

  Nathaniel jumped back to his feet and turned to the other guards. As he did, he saw Esther out of the corner of his eyes, and the smoke billowing from where her face had been. He lunged toward the guards and heard another crackle of energy. He fell to the ground. He heard the screams of the passersby, and Achmis’s wails above them all. He willed his friend not to fight the guards.

  “You think we weren’t prepared for you, Nathaniel?” Gustavus asked.

  Nathaniel felt cuffs snap around his wrists. He heard a buzzing sound, and more of that same energy as in the weapons came out of the wristcuffs and filled his body with pain.

  He thought of how his true strength had returned to him when he pushed against the tree. His power was inside him, even if it had become so often dormant. He strained against the cuffs, feeling them burn into his skin. They snapped, and the painful energy disappeared.

  “No!” Gustavus yelled.

  Nathaniel sprung to his feet and bolted into the distance. The guards fired at him but missed. He ran, faster than any normal could ever run, out of the square, through the enclave and past its gate, then into the woods.

  Nathaniel pressed on through the woods. He kept hearing the sound of the guards’ weapons and seeing the smoke pouring from what was left of poor, sweet Esther, who had always cared so much about him as a person, not just as one of the Great Ones.

  He felt sick that his actions had taken such a toll on Achmis, and he prayed that his friend had let matters end with his wife’s execution. The world had taken so much from Nathaniel, and he had been very lucky to develop a friendship with a normal. With his family and the rest of his people gone and the prospects of a relationship with a normal woman near zero, the companionship he had found with Achmis and Esther was one spark of light in a dark and lonely existence.

  It had been the role of his kind to protect the world, but now he wondered what that even meant. Like Liam before him, he was seeing the cracks in the story they had all been told. That object with its many symbols…he may not have known the language then or now, but he knew it told a different story. That was what made the Authority so uncomfortable, and that was why he had to scale the wall.

  His previous attempt had failed because he had delayed before the final jump from the top of the platforms. He could blame it on his deteriorating condition, perhaps, but he knew it had been fear of the unknown that had given him pause. And that one second of hesitation, that one brief moment of concern about what he would see and feel, that was all the guards needed.

  There could be no hesitation. He had to use every bit of the power that was left in him. He had to be perfect.

  Nathaniel reached the wall. It was a different spot than he had found the last time, with a slightly different configuration of platforms. He watched the guards and wondered if those were the same sentries who had attacked him during his prior effort. The ones who had tried to murder him, he remembered. He could hear the voice echoing in his mind, saying, “Put him out of his misery,” like he was one of the mongrels that wandered the world.

  He was no mongrel, nor was he anyone’s pet. But was that true? What were the Great Ones, really? What was he, as the sole survivor? They had kept him in his gilded cage, treated him with love and reverence, but had he ever really been free? Gustavus certainly wished to remind him of his place.

  To stay and accept Esther’s brutal killing was not an option Nathaniel could tolerate. To stay and fight wouldn’t grant him the answers he needed, as much as it seemed like the right answer. He wanted revenge, but answers mattered more. It was time to find a way out. Weakened as he remained, there was a legitimate possibility the guards could kill him this time, as Achmis feared. Nathaniel didn’t care. Better to die in pursuit of the truth than to live a lie.

  Nathaniel waited as long as he could. When he saw his opening, he acted swiftly. He was hurt, but he pushed himself more than he had the previous time, when he had been well. His body screamed in pain as he pushed it past its comfortable limits. He ascended the platforms faster than the last time. He moved through the shadows, unseen by the guards. Higher and higher he climbed, faster and faster. He reached the top of the platforms and pressed off with no delay.

  His han
ds caught the top of the wall. Again, he was shocked that nothing felt any different. There was no hellfire licking at his fingertips, and no razor wire or shards of glass along the top either. Nobody expected anyone to be able to ascend from the top of the platforms. Nathaniel tightened his grip, ready to pull himself up.

  “By the prophet! There’s someone on the wall!”

  Damn it! Nathaniel pulled himself up as he heard a familiar crackle and felt pain blossom across the back of his leg. He lost his grip from the shock and fell to the platform. This was it. He had taken one last chance and he had failed himself, his family, and all those held prisoner by whatever lies the Authority was telling. He had failed Achmis and Esther, maybe most of all.

  No.

  Nathaniel closed his eyes and willed himself off the ground. His leg was still numb from the energy blast and his movement was slow, but yet he stood. He would not let the Authority stand triumphant over him. If he was to die, he would do it on his feet.

  “Take him again!” the same voice called.

  “Hello, motherfuckers!” A different voice. A familiar one, full of tears and fury.

  Nathaniel turned and saw the guards, five of them, facing away from him and toward a newcomer in the distance. Nathaniel gasped.

  “Stand down, sir, you are too close to the wall,” said one of the guards.

  “Fuck you, fuck your wall, and fuck your mother while I’m at it,” said Achmis.

  “This is your final warning,” the guard said. “Return to an authorized zone immediately!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, you foul bastards,” Achmis said. His voice was loud and clear, and with no hint of nerves. Nathaniel watched as his friend charged at the guards.

  “Nathaniel! Find the truth!” Achmis yelled.

  Everything in Nathaniel wanted to jump from the platform and save his friend, but he didn’t think they could win this battle. If he failed, then Achmis’s sacrifice would be for nothing. Nathaniel turned back to the wall and jumped with everything he had left in him. His right leg was nearly useless, and he only caught the wall by his fingers. He clawed his way into a better grip and swung his legs up. He heard the crackling sound again, yet this time there was no pain. He rolled along the top of the wall, a surface nearly three feet wide, and looked down for the first time at the other side.

  “Where did the other one go?” a guard called.

  “I don’t know, he vanished,” said another.

  “Could he have made it over the wall?”

  “Doubtful. And if he did, let him burn in hellfire. Back to your posts.”

  Nathaniel smiled. The land on the other side of the wall looked just like the land on his side. A deep forest. He thought of Achmis and felt tears sting his eyes. He sniffed once and pushed the thoughts away.

  There was one significant difference on this side of the wall: no platforms. Nathaniel saw no way down. He sighed. He truly was the only one who might have a chance of making the journey, and if he survived, there was likely no way back.

  Nathaniel loosened his belt and pulled it free. He scratched at the surface on the top of the wall with the belt buckle. It didn’t take much of his strength to scrape a line a few inches long.

  He shimmied his legs to the outer edge of the wall and said a small prayer. He wasn’t quite sure to whom he prayed. Maybe the other Great Ones? Maybe the prophet? Maybe it was dear Achmis, whose soul was now on its journey to whatever existed in the life after. Let me survive this. Let me make this right.

  Nathaniel slid off the edge of the wall. He pressed the buckle into the side as hard as he could, slowing his slide as much as possible. He scratched a line more than ten feet long before the buckle slipped and he fell free.

  He felt himself fall and had time to hope his end would come quickly. Then there was darkness.

  II

  The Wasteland

  5

  Nathaniel’s first waking thought after his impact with the ground was bewilderment at being alive. After that, he was in and out of consciousness so frequently that coherent thought was impossible. He witnessed the sun’s arrival, but it barely registered. When he next opened his eyes, another night had come.

  He had a sense of being watched as he lay there on the hard earth. He felt skeeters drawing blood, and realized how easy the transport between his old world and this new one was for those beings that could fly. Then he was sleeping again.

  He went through two more cycles of day and night. Each night he felt that same sense of eyes on him. By the fourth morning, he was able to curl his hands into fists and relax them again. He woke up five times during that day, and with each awakening his control over his body grew, as did the pain.

  He awoke on the fifth evening and, without knowing he was going to do it, sat up. He felt his many injuries come together in a chorus of suffering, and he howled his protest at the night sky. He heard rustling from the trees around him.

  Suddenly, he was surrounded by creatures that seemed born of the shadows themselves. They moved in and out of the dark, visible only when they blocked the moonlight.

  “Sulvas!” one of them shouted. “Sulvas dendooti!”

  “What?” Nathaniel asked. His voice sounded like sandpaper.

  “Sulvas shravnad,” the speaker said. He sounded reproachful. “Dendooti!”

  Nathaniel stood up. His muscles ached. “Listen, I’m not seeking any trouble.”

  “Dendooti!”

  Nathaniel heard a whistling sound, and something bit into the side of his neck. His vision doubled and his already unsteady legs gave way.

  He didn’t slip fully into unconsciousness but remained aware as the creatures bound his wrists together and then his ankles. They lifted him and walked with him in silence.

  He couldn’t tell how long he was carried. All he knew was pain. He saw flickers of firelight and then the ceiling of a room. He was lowered onto a soft surface.

  “Oteer, sulvas shravnad.”

  Nathaniel heard footsteps moving away from him, and then the sound of a door closing. He rolled to his side and tested the rope around his wrists. He was far too weak to escape. He looked around the room from his sideways vantage point. His vision was still blurry from whatever drug the creatures had injected into him, but it was clearing.

  Were they creatures? They were shaped like people, though the same could be said for the mutants. They spoke a language that was foreign to him, but it was a language with meaning. Of that he was almost certain. And he was in a room not unlike those in the enclave. He saw a wooden door about ten feet away. It didn’t appear to have any locks or bolts.

  The creatures, or whatever they were, seemed convinced that whatever threat he posed was minimal enough to be neutralized by the ropes. For the moment, he thought, that was likely true. His body’s incredible resilience had been tested by whatever had happened to him before and after his fall from the wall, and it was in a stalemate against the drug in his body and the pain that threatened to render him incapable of reason.

  He realized that if his captors had meant to kill him, they would have attempted it already. For the moment, at least, he thought he might be safe. With that, he pulled his hands in toward his chest and slept.

  He woke to the sensation of something poking him inquisitively in the ribs. He rolled to his side, blazingly fast reflexes attempting to reach out to the invader, but the ropes restricted his movement.

  “What do you want?” he croaked.

  A human-like being stared at him. It was short and lean, with a similar skintone to the mutants.

  “Sulvas.”

  “I don’t understand you. What does that mean?”

  “Sulvas dendooti!”

  “Last time one of you said that, you shot me in the fucking neck. Can we be civil? I mean you no harm.”

  The thing leaned over him with a look of intense curiosity. Nathaniel heard the door opening.

  “You speak the language of the prophet,” said a voice. Nathaniel looked toward
the door and saw an old man. Bald, save for patches of white hair on either side of his head, the man was thin but deeply muscled, especially for one of such apparently advanced age. He wore a shiny robe with no sleeves. Intricate art was woven into the fabric on both sides.

  “Aye,” Nathaniel said. “You’re human.”

  The man laughed. There was no threat in that laughter, but Nathaniel knew better than to take such things at face value.

  “I suppose I am,” the man said. “And I suppose you are as well?”

  “Aye. And this?” Nathaniel looked to the creature, which continued to study him with its head bobbing in every direction.

  “This is one of the hive mind.”

  “It has no name?”

  “It doesn’t need one,” the man said. “It is just one of many.”

  “It called me something. Sulvas.”

  “Yes, that means ‘stranger.’ Which, I assume you’ll agree, you are.”

  “You haven’t seen others like me?” Nathaniel asked.

  The man smiled. “Others who jumped off the walls of a territory and survived? No.”

  “Territory? I don’t understand. Who are you?”

  “My name is Opellius.” He shrugged. “I might once have had another name, but that was a long time ago, and it’s not known to me.”

  “What is this place?”

  “You have a great many questions, friend,” Opellius said. “And so do I. How you survived a fall from such a height is only one of them. But for now, I think you need to rest some more. My associate here will give you something to help you sleep.”

  “No,” Nathaniel said. He strained against his bindings. “No drugs. I want answers.”

  The creature poked something into Nathaniel’s neck. His vision blurred and he felt drool trickle down the side of his mouth as he passed out.

  Nathaniel woke to another of the mutant-like creatures offering him a pale sludge from a bowl.