by Indie Gantz
It’s too hot.
It feels like I’m roasting in an oven, wrapped up for some sort of ancient religious sacrifice. I can’t move my arms or legs; they’re twisted among layers of fabric, twisted among themselves. It’s stifling.
I can’t breathe.
I think I hear my salvation in the distance, humming steadily, taunting me to make my move. It’s waiting. It’s begging to be discovered, but I can’t move. I can’t feel my body.
I just feel heat.
Time doesn’t make sense. I don’t know how long I’ve been this way. My mind is fuzzy, clouded in nothing but sweat and darkness.
Is this what they meant when the humans spoke of Hell? If it is, I understand why they devoted so much energy to avoiding it.
Consciousness comes on slowly, my body becoming more aware as the mind-numbing heat loses some of its strength. It’s not a jolt, but a sickeningly gradual process. My mind begins to catch up as to why I feel so trapped, why I’m wet and sticky with salt, but the details are distorted.
My legs kick out aggressively until they are free of what could only be described as a medieval torture chamber. My sleeping bag.
The sun is harsh and unforgiving against our tent this morning, and I make a mental note to not use my sleeping back tomorrow night, assuming we can take it with us.
Was that entirely necessary? Tirigan’s mind brings me further away from the blackness that was sleep, his voice in my head distant, but noticeably irritated. I can feel my body fully now and it’s severely unhappy.
When I open my eyes, I expect to see Tirigan, a mess of sweat and moodiness, just as myself, but he isn’t here. Where are you?
Sitting outside the tent, where your feet, apparently, decided they needed to be as well.
Oh, sorry. It’s sweltering in here.
There’s a remedy for that.
I roll my eyes and flop to my stomach, pushing up onto my hands and knees, before crawling out of the tent. It’s much cooler outside, but still quite warm. Tirigan is sitting with the history book Calla left us in his lap, eating a mango and reading a page with a large picture of a volcano on one side.
“Morning,” I greet into a long stretch, yawning and digging my toes into the damp ground. “John awake yet?”
Tirigan nods. He scouted the climb already. Returned a few minutes ago. I believe he is washing up in the river.
Of course John would get up at the crack of dawn and climb the cliff ahead of us, just to make sure everything was all right up top. Part of me wants to be annoyed at my father’s over-protectiveness, but a much larger part is grateful to know that there will be no surprises waiting for us up there.
I walk over to the bag of food Tirigan must have placed in a tree the night before. I grab a piece of fruit for breakfast, then walk over and sit down across from Tirigan, pulling the bag of Gi stones into my lap.
Lay it on me, professor.
Hmm? Tirigan is still absorbed in the book, not bothering to look up. Am I to assume that I am the professor in this scenario and you are expecting me to teach you what I’ve read so far thus far?
Hey! You got the joke! I throw my hands up in celebration. “It’s a miracle!” A wide, excited smile spreads over my face, my mouth full of banana.
I don’t know why our parents insist on telling you that you are funny. I start to laugh at his statement, but then the reality of everything that’s happening practically knocks me out, and I end up coughing up a bit of my breakfast. It wasn’t that humorous, Charlie.
No, I know. Tirigan looks up at me from under his lashes, not moving his head up to look at me full on. I just… I forgot for second. I forgot about... I pull a few stones into my hand and let them fall back into the bag. ..All of this.
An entire second?
“Ugh. You’re insufferable.” I finish the rest of my banana, and Tirigan goes back to reading.
With the sun shining, the stones aren’t nearly as illuminated as they were last night. There are a few different types inside the Gi stone bag. The halite and jasper are still easy to pick out, but, with more light, I now can recognize green and black tourmaline, as well as emerald, jade, and peridot. There are a couple more I don’t have names for, but I smile to myself at my impressive rock knowledge. I rattle off the names to Tirigan, and he gives me a nod of approval.
I didn’t know those two. He points to the two different colors of tourmaline. Where have you seen them before?
I pick up the stones and trace them with my fingers. There are small lines running down the translucent gems, like they’ve been cut with something sharp. “In a book,” I reply smugly. “I can read too, you know.”
Fascinating.
“Oh yeah?” I throw the stones back into the bag. What have you learned this morning then?
A great deal, actually. It should make for some interesting traveling conversation.
Just when I am about to ask him to hit me with the bullet points, I hear John coming up behind us.
“Morning, Charlie.” His voice is hoarse, a sound I’m unaccustomed to. “Sleep well?”
“Not really,” I say slowly, standing up to greet him. “Although, it was probably just waking up that did it. I don’t remember dreaming.”
John gives me a pained look, then attempts to shrug. “You know, Anunnaki don’t do that.”
“What? Dream?”
John nods. “I had to make up things to share over the breakfast table, just so you wouldn’t suspect, and make sure none of the books I brought home said anything about it being solely a human attribute.”
His admission shocks me into silence. Tirigan’s mind remains closed as well, but I feel a flash of anger that doesn’t come from me. If I had to bet, I’d say Tirigan is probably angrier with the idea of John withholding knowledge than with being lied to.
When neither of us respond, John clears his throat awkwardly.
“Well, we should get to it as soon as you’re ready. We don’t have any time to waste now that you two have a plan of your own.”
There’s nothing in me that wants to fight him on this, so I immediately start packing things up. With Tirigan’s help our camp is pulled down in just a few minutes. John leaves all of the camping gear and his own bag under the tree Tirigan had climbed last night, and puts both of our backpacks and the food bag with the green duffle on the wagon. I guess that answers the question about having a tent to sleep in tonight. It makes sense though, it’s not like we can just carry that stuff around with us. We’re going to have to make do on our own.
Once we all make our way over to the cliff’s base, a very obvious problem becomes apparent.
“The wagon... Our bags,” I say, looking between my father and brother. “How are we supposed to get them up there?”
John drops the handle of the wagon to the ground and smiles hesitantly. “Well, I’m glad you brought that up.” He looks up to the top of the cliff. “I made this climb earlier and it’s clear up top. I also did a quick search of the perimeter this morning so there shouldn’t be any drones close enough to be tracking us.” His expression is serious when he turns back to us. “And since you two are committed to your mission to find your mother, you’ll be moving on quickly once we make it up there.”
“Okay...” I say, taking a step closer to him, but keeping my eyes on the cliff.
“So, I think one of you should do it,” John says simply. “Lift the wagon and put it up there to wait for us.” He points up, but keeps his gaze on us. When neither of us say anything, John continues. “Between the two of you and those stones, I’m sure you can make it happen. Even if your power is tracked, we should be clear of here before any drones can arrive.”
I take this in with a sideways glance to my father. “So, you just want us to... lift it?” It sounds so odd, like I don’t understand my own words.
“Why not?” John asks, one eyebrow raised. “You need to practice and we need to move.”
“Sure, why not?” I tease, “I mean, why not jus
t fly up there instead? You know? Really cut the time down.”
John seems to consider this as an actual possibility. “Not a bad idea.”
“I was kidding, John!” I reply with a shocked smile. “I’d like to do something a little less insane right now, thank you very much.” I shift my gaze to the wall of rock we are about to climb, my voice dipping into uncertainty. “Like climb this cliff without any gear.”
John’s about to reply, but he stops suddenly and looks down at the wagon. I hadn’t noticed, because my mind was half arguing with my father, half coming up with ways to use water to get our stuff up the cliff, but the wagon has begun to shake slightly in its place. Staring at it, completely frozen, I try to figure out how I’m making the wagon move. It shudders again, then stills.
I’ve got my eyes on it, waiting for something else to happen, when a force strong enough to knock both me and John to the ground comes bounding towards us. The wagon flies into the side of the cliff, and the bags scatter to the ground. From my position in the dirt, I see Tirigan’s eyes widen comically, with his arms outstretched as if he’s reaching for something.
A-Apologies. That didn’t exactly go as planned.
“That was you?” I ask, pushing myself to my feet. “What happened?”
Tirigan walks over to the wagon and rights it, placing the bags back on top. It was very difficult to control. The pressure came on much stronger than I intended, and then it went sideways instead of up.
John recovers quickly and hustles over to where Tirigan stands next to the wagon.
“Well, you’ve used your powers now.” He says, somewhat breathlessly. “We should try and get up and over as quickly as we can.” He pulls each of our backpacks off of the wagon and hands them to us. “You’ll have to climb with them on your back if you don’t want to try that again.” He takes the duffle and the bag of food and pulls them onto his shoulders. “I can get these.”
That seems like a very bad idea, what with the weight of the bags pulling us down as we try to climb, but seeing no other option that doesn’t involve Tirigan throwing us to the ground again, I pull my backpack onto my back and nod.
“All right,” I reply, looking up at our destination. “Let’s do this.”
◆◆◆
This was a very bad idea.
Despite my father having mapped out a route to the top already, a free climb with no chalk and a backpack on your back is incredibly difficult.
I follow the same steps my father makes up the rock wall, but I still find myself missing holds and my toes keep slipping off the rock. Tirigan seems to be faring better, having only one close call where the bit of rock John and I had used as a foothold gave out under Tirigan’s weight, and he had to jump to the next hold using only his arms.
If it weren’t for the fact that dying as an Anunnaki is incredibly difficult to do, I would have given up a while ago. We could always walk around the cliff, even if it does take an extra day. I push that thought aside quickly because we don’t actually have an extra day to spare. We need to get to the festival as soon as we can to start looking for Kori Lark.
Thinking about Calla helps me get through most of the climb.
Despite everything she kept from us and how much that deceit has hurt me, Calla is still the woman she’s always been. She’s a woman who lives for adventure. A woman who left her home and everything she knew to start a life with someone of a completely different species. Then she built a life with him in a foreign land. She’s incredibly brave, and I try to remember that as I push myself closer and closer to the edge of the world she came from.
Mitéra. Téssera territory. Human territory. In all the excitement of running away and learning about our powers, the fact that my mother is human hasn’t really landed completely yet. Humanity, as a whole, was just as flawed as it was beautiful. Social classes, patriarchy, narcissism, war… It’s hard to believe Calla belonged to their species. And now, I do too.
I’m about to leave everything I’ve ever known too, just like Calla had to, and even though a lot of my life has been a lie, I feel like I’m leaving pieces of myself along this rock wall as I ascend it. I’m going to have to shed the parts of me that make me Anunnaki if I want to pass as Téssera.
My mind starts to wander to elemental culture, and what we would need to learn in order to fit in, when I realize I’ve made it to the top of the cliff. I just need to push myself up and over to solid ground. I thank all the gods that humans worshipped over the course of their existence that I didn’t fall while I was daydreaming about the life we are about to embark on, and then I hear John say something to me from above.
“Almost there.” He reaches a hand down after dropping his bags. “Take my hand.”
I push with my legs, taking one more step up before extending my hand and grasping my father’s. Just as he’s pulling me up and over, I hear a call from down below. It’s in a language rarely used by the Anunnaki people anymore, but I recognize it well enough to make out what the drone says.
“Stop. Come down from there.”
Before I can even look down to the source of the command, my father pulls me up so quickly, I feel my shoulder nearly slip out of its socket. I cry out, but my father doesn’t spare me a glance as he pushes me back and down onto the ground.
“Stay down!” he whispers, reaching back over the side of the cliff to help Tirigan up and over.
I do as I’m told, heart beating wildly in my chest, but rotate around so I’m on my stomach and facing the edge of the cliff. Seconds later, Tirigan joins me on the ground, and our father stands up.
“Hello!” John says in the same language the drone used. I crawl closer to the edge so I can see down below. “I am here to take pictures for the Negral. The name is Smith Xisuthros.”
I peek over the edge to watch as the drone processes our father’s words. I’ve never seen one in real life, only pictures or in films. I sometimes see flying drones high in the sky, circling or heading towards some far off destination. We’ve never stayed in one place long enough for me to recognize any pattern.
This drone walks on two feet and its arms move as fluidly as ours do. The metal that encases it is a deep onyx color that doesn’t shine when the sun tries to reflect off of it. There’s no artificial face, just a mask with a speaker where a mouth would be. On its hip is a utility belt where quite a few tools are kept, as well as at least one firing weapon. The weapon is silver and black with red trim along its handle.
“Wait there please,” the drone says, standing still. It makes no movements as it scans whatever database it is looking through. After a moment, it speaks again. “You are not scheduled to shoot here until next month. John Damuzi has the jungle right now.”
“Yes, I know,” John yells back down with a forced laugh. “John got himself into a bit of trouble. They had me come up here to cover.”
“You are correct. That name has been flagged. Who are your companions?” the drone asks flatly.
“My assistants,” John shouts. He looks behind himself, as if looking at something far away. "They are already setting up a shot, but they have clearance, if you need to see it.”
I want to kick him. I look behind me and to either side of us, and start coming up with an escape route.
Still lying beside me, Tirigan has opened the green duffle bag and has pulled a few red stones out, obviously thinking about doing something very stupid. Don’t even think about it.
Possible solution.
We don’t even know what they’ll do.
I read enough. I should be able to-
“That will not be necessary,” the drone says. “Assistants are allowed. A disturbance was tracked to this location. Did you happen to see anything, sir?”
“No, I’m sorry,” John replies back easily. “We just started out for the day. Haven’t seen much of anything yet.”
“Very well. Have a good day, sir,” the drone replies back, turning and walking off towards the river.
“Thank
you,” John says back, stepping away from the edge. Once he’s out of sight, John sinks to the ground and lets out a long trembling breath.
“We don’t have long now.” He shakes his head and reaches for the bags he dropped before. “The drone will report this at its next call-in.”
“Who is Smith Xisuthros?” I ask, matching his whisper.
“A friend,” John replies. “I know he was drafted a few years ago, and they would have used his photography experience to place him in the field, like I was. The lie won’t take us very far though; they’ll figure it out soon.”
I nod and pull myself to my feet, carefully looking over the edge again to make sure the drone is no longer there.
“Well, it’s gone now.” Tirigan stands and places the stones back into the duffle bag. “I can’t believe you were going to try and use those,” I accuse shortly, rolling my eyes. “We haven’t even practiced yet, and you want to try and use a stone in a fight?”
I am not completely ignorant as to how our powers work. Unlike you, I have theoretical knowledge now.
“Theoretical doesn’t always translate well to practical, Tirigan,” I chastise, taking a look around at our surroundings. “You could have made him explode or something. We don’t even know what was cast into those stones.”
Yes, well, if you had stayed up until nearly dawn as I did, you would have a better understanding of the subject.
“You stayed up all night reading that book?” I ask with mild disbelief. “How are you even standing right now?”
I do not require much sleep to function properly.
“Even so, maybe we should stop to rest for a while somewhere, before we head-”
“No,” John cuts in. His head swivels around, looking at our surroundings with cautious eyes. “You need to get over the border as fast as you can now. They’ll be looking for you as soon as that drone reports in. I don’t even know how it got here so fast.” He pulls the duffel bag higher on his shoulder. “Once you are in Mitéra, there will be enforcers there as well, but they should have no knowledge of your existence yet.”
“Do they talk to each other?” I ask. “The two sides?”
