The Only
by
Michael D. Britton
* * * *
Copyright 2012 by Michael D. Britton
It was a warm, dim day near the end of the harvest season when Aedlem entered the Institute to find the rooms nearly empty - only a few boxes of items scattered about awaiting removal.
The New Way government had decided to cut off funding to the Institute, since it was deemed unnecessary in the new age. Aedlem bid a sad farewell to his colleagues, and trudged off toward home with a small box of personal belongings under his arm.
As he turned the corner of his own street, he was thrown to the ground by a violent shaking of the earth.
A moment later he heard a low rumble accompanied by a crashing sound, and a shower of rocks and dirt flew over his head from behind.
His ears ringing, he covered his head and turned to look at the source. A huge fire blazed in the near distance and black smoke rose into the sky. Before he could take it all in, three more explosions came in rapid succession, focused at the same location – the center of town. With the new blasts, Aedlem saw that the explosions did not originate on the ground, but had rained down from the sky, three volleys of energy in the form of bright balls flying as fast as lightning.
“Aliens help us,” he muttered to no one, scrambling to his feet and taking cover in the doorway of a building.
More energy bombs rained down on the city, laying waste to most of the Central District. Aedlem huddled in the doorway, listening to the distant screams that could be heard between the blasts. Finally, the attack ended, and Aedlem crept out from his cover and looked around through the hazy air at the destruction.
A hand came down on his shoulder, and he spun around.
“You’re trembling,” said the athletic-looking man attached to the hand.
Aedlem stared at him for a moment with bright blue eyes surrounded by deep wrinkles. Then he looked down at his own thin body, as if to confirm the stranger’s observation. “And you’re – you’re remarkably placid,” he said, noticing the man’s calm demeanor and passive stance. Realizing he was unfamiliar, he asked, “Who are you?”
“Jerin,” said the younger man, smiling kindly. “Come, we must find a place of safety – there may be another attack.”
Jerin seemed to exude serenity and peace, and Aedlem quickly ceased quivering and found his mind returning to a normal state, despite the trauma going on all around him.
The sky had darkened with the rising smoke plumes, and the wind had picked up, tossing debris along the streets. People were running in different directions; others sat on stoops cradling an injury, or an injured loved one.
“What’s happening?” asked Aedlem as they strode purposefully toward the edge of town.
“Panlithia is under attack,” said Jerin.
“From whom?”
“I cannot say,” said Jerin.
From Jerin’s tone, Aedlem could not tell if he meant that he really did not know, or if he knew but was not at liberty to give that information. Given Jerin’s level-headedness and quiet intelligence, Aedlem was inclined to suspect the latter was the case.
They moved through town, occasionally pausing to provide some help to a fallen citizen. As they reached the edge of town, another series of flashes emanated from the sky and crashed into the city center, now more than five pastures distant. The west edge of town was on a rise, and looking down toward the city, Aedlem and Jerin could see that the final assault had left a smoldering crater in place of the city center. The Panlithia Minor seat of government was obliterated.
“Why are they doing this? Who are they?” cried Aedlem, tears running down his cheeks. “Oh, where are the Aliens of the Sky? They would have saved us from this atrocity!”
“Come,” said Jerin again, touching Aedlem’s arm.
Aedlem felt a tingle at his elbow and turned toward Jerin. For a moment, he thought he saw a faint glow around the man. He rubbed his tear-filled eyes and his vision returned to normal. He looked back at the flaming city, finding it oddly difficult to tear his gaze from the awful spectacle. Finally, he turned his back on the city and trudged toward the fading evening suns with Jerin at his side.
They walked in silence for nearly a pasture and a half. Finally, Aedlem spoke.
“I have not seen you before.”
“I have been here for many years,” said Jerin, lightly.
“I failed to introduce myself back there. I am Aedlem N’Shara. I am of the House of Rakkim. I am – rather, I was – a Fellow at the Institute of Light.”
“It is good to learn of you, Aedlem.”
Aedlem had hoped his introduction would prompt his new acquaintance to reciprocate by revealing more about himself, but Jerin said no more.
Evening became night, and the stars above shone faintly through the atmospheric haze created by the day’s attack. Far in the distance behind them, a faint glow on the horizon caused by the still-burning city mirrored the glow of the remnants of the sunset before them. Immediately around the two travelers, the darkness of the countryside was thick, the gloom filling Aedlem with longing for the Days of Light.
He decided he should get a sense of where his companion stood regarding such issues. Jerin appeared to be somewhat younger than Aedlem – perhaps in his early thirties – so it was a coin toss which way he leaned with respect to the Aliens of the Sky. Somehow, though, Aedlem suspected he was a believer. There was just something deep and knowing and wise – even ancient – in this man’s cool green eyes.
“Jerin, are you a believer?”
“In what?” he asked, not looking at Aedlem.
“The Aliens of the Sky – the Ghosts. Are you accepting of their reality, or do you subscribe to the New Way?”
Jerin continued walking, seeming to ponder the best way to answer. Then he stopped and turned to Aedlem, his face betraying no emotion.
“The New Way is the way of blindness – the way of inverted truth.” He walked on.
Aedlem smiled to himself. Clearly this younger man was a man of understanding – someone who could be trusted.
“Where exactly are we going?” asked Aedlem.
“There is a place of refuge – we are not far from it now.”
“I – I have a son,” Aedlem said. “My wife has passed on, but I have a son. He works for the government in Panlithia Major. Do you think he will be safe?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“There have been attacks across the world. But your son lives. You will see him again.”
Aedlem could not explain why, but Jerin’s pronouncements seemed so sure, so solid, so rooted in truth and certainty – and yet there was no way he could know these things. Aedlem began to suspect that Jerin was some sort of a prophet.
They approached a wooded area, and Jerin turned down a narrow foot trail leading into the trees. Under the thick cover of leafy branches, the trail became dark as a cave. Aedlem couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, but was guided by Jerin, who gently grasped Aedlem’s elbow and moved forward at the same pace they’d been walking outside the forest.
After what seemed like a long walk in the pitch black, Jerin said, “Wait here.” Aedlem heard Jerin shuffling around in the leaves a few paces ahead, and then silence.
“Jerin?” he said. “Jerin, where are you?”
A rustling sound came from Aedlem’s right, and he turned to see a faint light escaping a rough doorway, framing the silhouette of Jerin.
“This way,” whispered Jerin.
Aedlem cautiously moved toward the light, and stepped through the entry into a narrow passageway that led downward in a curving tunnel of stairs. At the bottom was a small room lit by candles, furnished with simple
hand-made chairs and a round table. The table was home to a pitcher and cup, also made of wood, and a notebook with pen and ink nearby. A handful of unmarked books lay on a shelf to the left.
“Do you live here?” asked Aedlem, surprised.
“Sometimes. It is a place of safety and privacy. You are the first to visit.”
“Well, thank you – I’m honored,” said Aedlem. “What are you writing?” he asked, pointing to the notebook and pen.
“I write of my experiences here, and of what I observe of the world. And I write of things to come.”
“So you are a prophet!” Aedlem said with excitement in his voice, despite his hushed tone.
“Would you like a drink of spring water?” Jerin asked, deflecting Aedlem’s words.
“Yes, please,” said Aedlem, realizing he was both thirsty and hungry.
The two sat quietly, sipping cool spring water and munching on some coarse-grain flat bread Jerin had pulled from a box near the door. Jerin seemed to be studying Aedlem, appraising him.
“Please,” said Aedlem, once he’d finished his food, “tell me what you know about these attacks. What is happening?”
Jerin hesitated. Then he seemed to make a decision. “I cannot tell you all, but I will explain what I can,” he said. “The strikes came from high above the sky. There are beings who desire to enslave you. If they cannot achieve that end, they will destroy you.”
“Aliens of the Sky? But not our Aliens – others?”
“Yes. Evil ones. They are called the Kkàc. They came from far away on a journey of conquest and terror.”
“Tell me, Jerin – did the Kkàc drive away the Aliens? Are they responsible for taking away the Days of Light?”
“In a way. The Aliens disappeared because they were detected by the Kkàc, who are their mortal enemies. They went away because they had to protect Panlithia. So, they went dark – became invisible to you, and to the Kkàc. At first they did not actually leave, but then, shortly after going dark, they had to withdraw completely from Panlithia so they could go fight the enemy and prevent them from coming and enslaving and destroying Panlithia. The war has now been raging, far away from this world, for thirty-two years.”
“So the Aliens of the Sky live?” Aedlem asked, a look of relief on his face. “Again, I must ask, how do you know these things?”
“One Ghost stayed behind to watch over Panlithia, but he needed to remain incognito for the safety of this world – so he took the form of a man and lived among them, his identity concealed.”
“I have heard this legend – the Lone Ghost – The Only,” said Aedlem. “But I feared it was only a tale. You have spoken with him?”
“It is not a tale. I have spoken to several Panlithians in my time, and some came away with the distinct impression that I was not of this world. It is from them that the legend came.”
“It is you! You are the Lone Ghost!” exclaimed Aedlem, his eyes wide. “I am honored to sit and sup with The Only!”
As Aedlem looked on in awe, Jerin underwent a silent transformation before his eyes, his appearance blurring and then crystallizing. In a matter of moments, Jerin became a Being of Light. The specific features of his face looked nearly the same, but his whole body glowed with a soft, warm light, and his cloak slowly billowed behind him, despite the lack of any air movement in the room. His hair seemed to move as if he were underwater, shimmering below an indistinct aureole. His countenance shone brightly, and a feeling of peace flowed over Aedlem, despite his excitement.
“Aedlem, I lost contact with my kindred several days ago. Today, it appears the Kkàc have broken through the lines and attacked your planet. I fear my people have lost the battle, and that the enemy will now prevail.”
“What does that mean? What would happen?”
“Many deaths. Global enslavement. Perhaps for centuries. Eventually, the Kkàc will move on, leaving Panlithia a charred, uninhabited rock, its resources stripped and its population decimated.”
“But why?” Aedlem asked, stunned.
“It is their way - they are parasitic in nature. We have seen them do this to other worlds. But we must not let that happen here. I need your help, Aedlem, to determine a way to find out if my people are alright, and figure out how to win this war.”
“What – what can I do? I am but a man.” Aedlem stared at the glowing figure of Jerin. “You are a god,” he said breathlessly. “Of course, I will do whatever you ask of me,” he added quickly.
“You are strong and faithful,” Jerin said, smiling. “There is much you can do. Much you will do.”
#
Gone were the Days of Light.
The rising generation hadn’t even a vague memory of the way things had been before the Darkness. Old men were sometimes heard in the streets lamenting the change that had come upon the world, lifting their arms heavenward and exclaiming, “Where are the Ghosts? Where are the Aliens of the Sky?”
But nobody answered. Nobody knew the answer.
When Aedlem was a young man, the Aliens of the Sky watched over all of Panlithia with a gentle love, sending their messengers - the Ghosts - to teach, guide, warn, and protect. The Ghosts were noncorporeal – translucent, intangible beings who appeared as glimmering men of light. Aedlem had had a handful of encounters with the Ghosts, and had come to understand that they were not only representatives of the Aliens of the Sky, but indeed projections of the Aliens themselves - their way of communicating directly with the people of Panlithia.
In those days, the sky was bright with countless orbs of light that appeared to be floating high in the atmosphere, moving slowly to and fro, shedding a calming glow upon the world. After the twin suns set, the lights seemed to diffuse slightly, blending in with the shroud of night, but remained an ever-constant reminder of the love of the Aliens.
Until they disappeared.
Thirty-two years ago, the Aliens of the Sky, along with their messengers, the Ghosts, vanished without warning. Aedlem remembered the day vividly.
He was only twenty-two years old at the time. It had only been three weeks since his last Ghost experience, and he was sitting under the night sky, writing in his journal, pausing now and again to gaze up at the softly glowing orbs illuminating the heavens. He was actually watching when they winked out of existence. He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, but the giant rondure overhead had become pitch black, like a velvet curtain had been drawn across the expanse, and a cold wind seemed to rush down from above and blow in all directions at once. After a few moments, the wind died down, and all was calm again.
But the Aliens of the Sky were gone.
Aedlem’s heart caught in his throat, and he was filled with fear, astonishment, and complete confusion. That night, he could not sleep.
The next day, everything seemed dim and melancholy, the sky a bland gray, only the small, twin suns emitting any light. Word of an undefined cataclysm quickly spread, as it was clear for all to see that the lights were gone, and some areas were struck by panic and uncontrolled hysteria. After a few days, the mayhem abated, and after a few weeks, people began to accept the harsh reality of their abandonment.
The Darkness was here to stay.
Now, decades later, the Darkness consumed Panlithia and transformed the world into a bitter place. Younger people, those who had never known the Days of Light, were typically rebellious, crude, selfish, and involved in nefarious pursuits. Many openly criticized the older generation, claiming that the Aliens of the Sky were part of a silly belief system – an antiquated religion – a myth. Despite so many first-hand accounts of visitations from the Ghosts, the youth found a multitude of ways to discount the truth. They formulated custom-made scientific explanations, ignored the evidence, or simply stated that those who still believed were insane. They shouted louder and longer than the older generation, and their shrill voices of cold rationale convinced many that the Days of Light were nothing more than a fanciful
story perpetuated by sentimental has-beens. As the older generation died off, and more youth grew up in the New Way, believers became marginalized.
Despite the attempts of many parents to pass along their beliefs to their children, the children rejected those teachings in favor of the more appealing things being taught in their schools – that man is paramount and supreme, that individual intellect and strength are more important than the ignorant superstitions of their parents, that science can explain everything, and that in order to succeed in the New Way, they must throw off the old ways of dependence on myths and instead rely on themselves and their own power.
The people had become harder, coarser, and more interested in the pursuit of their own interests than trying to better the community. Some of the more cruel children would even make fun of their elders, raising their hands and repeating in exaggerated, mocking tones, “Where are the Ghosts, where are the Aliens of the Sky?”
The change in Panlithian society seemed to happen so quickly. Without the direct influence of the Aliens of the Sky, the culture quickly devolved into something very different than it had been for so many generations. And Aedlem missed the way it used to be. He wondered what had happened - why they had seemingly been abandoned.
At first, when the Aliens of the Sky had disappeared, the darkness had been oppressive. After several weeks, like everyone, Aedlem slowly became used to it. But it made no sense – why would their benefactors simply leave without warning? Why would they desert Panlithia, leaving the world to make its way unguided? As Aedlem looked around at the way the world had changed, he wondered if it was perhaps some kind of test. If so, the world was failing miserably.
Sometimes Aedlem would take leave of his young wife and baby boy to hike high into the mountains outside of his city, near the spot where he had watched the end of an era occur, and tearfully cry out to the heavens. But his cries were only answered by the soft wind that whistled across his ears and the warm suns on his face. No Ghosts ever came to respond to his supplication. But he knew he had spoken with the Ghosts before, and his faith in them remained strong, despite the mystery of their disappearance.
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