Evercloud looked at Riverpaw and the brothers Floyd. The looks upon their faces said everything. The secrecy was a burden and an unwelcome one. Evercloud turned from his companions, back to Captain Nesbitt, and gave the dog what he wanted.
“You’re right. You should know everything.” Evercloud sat back down and began to relate the entire story of their journey. He told of his childhood and his father, Eveneye. He told of the rumors, discussions and lights in the sky that caused them to leave the mountain. He also told of Padre Esteban and their chance encounter in the Glass Desert, as well as Tomaton and Oldham’s Bog. Finally, he told Nesbitt of the gifts bestowed upon them by the great Tenturo.
“That’s quite a fantastic story,” said the oft-silent Mr. Tripp. “You expect us to believe all of it?”
Riverpaw rose to his feet and launched into the air. It felt like it had been forever since he felt the whipping wind through his fur. After he could see that he had made his point, he came back to the ship.
“Anything else?” he asked. “Or have we satisfied your curiosity?”
“Not quite,” added Nesbitt, and then he turned his gaze upon Evercloud. “You still haven’t told me your purpose, and don’t tell me more about what your kingdom wants. I’ve lived thousands of years. I’ve looked into the eyes of millions. Your eyes are different than any I’ve ever seen, with the exception of one, and to be honest…it scares the hell out of me. You’re on a different mission, aren’t you? Tell me. I’m going to find out, one way or another.”
Evercloud narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly what Nesbitt wanted to hear.
“I’m going to kill the Great Tyrant.”
“And if it can’t be done?”
“I’ll die trying.”
“Why? What are you trying to prove?”
Evercloud was taken aback by the question.
“Prove?... The Tyrant is evil.”
“I know what he is,” added Nesbitt. “I’m trying to figure out what you are.” Evercloud stared blankly. He had no idea how to respond. “You don’t know, do you?” Captain Nesbitt huffed.
Ben saw that it was time to step in. “Where are you going with this, Captain?”
“Where am I going with this? Are you really telling me it hasn’t hit you yet?” Captain Nesbitt looked around, shaking his head in amazement. “You search for the cure to Chera’s malady, yet never thought that there might be another ancient being under the same spell? You tell me. Before you sits a man with no history, no ties to the past. You say Tenturo gave him powers, I say he already had them.”
“I had no powers when I was a child upon Gray Mountain.”
“Another work of evil magic perhaps? And let me ask you this, why me? Why would Tenturo send you to me? Maybe he needed confirmation that his guess was true by one of the only other people on the earth who could confirm it. Tell me something, son of the bear king. When did you first feel an emotional connection with Chera? I’d wager it was right from the beginning, like you’d always known her.” Evercloud was stunned, and so was everyone else. “They follow you around, don’t they? The Farsiders? They know you.” Nesbitt was pacing in front of Evercloud now, like he had gone mad. “I didn’t like you the moment I laid my eyes upon you, but I didn’t know why. Well, I do now. It’s obvious to me. You’re him.”
“I’m who?”
“Densa.”
“No,” whispered Evercloud. His head was swimming. He looked around at the confused faces; his own was hot and throbbing. Everything was starting to spin and the light of the moon was so bright. Evercloud’s legs ached, and he stood up to stretch them. He found himself unbalanced and weak. His body felt heavy. He needed to lie down. He thought he heard someone yelling his name, but the voice was so far away. He needed to lie down. More voices, muddled and distant. The moon was so close, he tried to touch it. It was as if it was calling out to him. Come to me… Come to me… Evercloud could not feel any longer and he fell, fell deep into the darkness.
LIFE
Chapter 13: Breaking Down Walls
“So, what do you think that thing was?”
Iolana and the Messenger had been silent since they had woken up on the forest floor. The previous night had been psychologically exhausting for both of them. However, morning was now turning into afternoon and Iolana was beginning to find the silence frustrating.
“I don’t know.”
Iolana was trying to break through the Messenger’s shell. There was still so much that she could see he was bottling inside. It made her uneasy, and the only thing that she could think to do was to continue talking.
“I want to apologize for the way I acted back there.”
“No,” replied the Messenger. “You were right. We shouldn’t have been there.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I mean when I found out what it is that you do. I shouldn’t have reacted so negatively. I’ve never really given it much thought, but it makes sense. You should be blind, but can see, and the thing that you can do with the blue light… It’s obvious that some greater power gave you those gifts. I’ve seen a lot recently that has been difficult to process, but I want you to know…well…it’s good to know that there is someone out there protecting people…and I think that I’m lucky that you found me.”
The Messenger did not know how to respond. He was completely unprepared for Iolana to say that. She confused him, and his reply mirrored his confusion.
“Okay,” he said awkwardly.
“Okay?” mimicked Iolana. “Murray, why won’t you open up to me? I’m just trying to get to know you more, and you’re treating me like I’m your enemy.”
Aren’t you the enemy?thought the Messenger. “I guess I just don’t know what to say.”
“Well, thank you is usually what you say to someone who pays you a compliment.”
“Thank you.”
“Murray, do you act like this with everyone?”
“Act like what?”
“Isn’t there anyone you speak to normally? Anyone you have conversations with?”
“I speak with the Holy.”
“Okay,” said Iolana. “Talk to me the way you would talk to the Holy.”
“I can’t”
“Why?”
“I can’t. That’s all you need to know. Stop asking me questions.”
“You are impossible.” Iolana threw her arms up in frustration and the two travelers continued to walk on in silence.
•••
Entry 1
I am starting this journal to catalogue what happens. I’m not quite sure how this little experiment is going to go, but I am excited to find out. It’s not often that I can honestly say that I’m doing something for the first time.
The immediate differences seem to be increased emotional reactions. It’s much more intense than anything I have previously experienced. Also, the sense of community is amazing. I feel connected somehow to these people in a way that is totally alien to me. I feel as if I’m part of something greater than myself, which is odd. I assumed that I would feel so much smaller than myself.
Also, it is very apparent that men are drawn to me. They are much more amiable to me than to others. It is mildly awkward, but also strangely pleasing. I have decided to take a residence with an elderly couple who were renting a room. I asked the older woman why men act this way toward me and she laughed at me. I suppose I’ll have to examine this odd effect more closely.
“Do you really think that you should be reading that?” asked the Messenger. “It could be a tool of evil.”
“That didn’t stop you from taking that sword, did it?” replied Iolana, looking up from the journal. “Besides, I’ll stop reading this journal when you decide to have a real conversation with me.” The Messenger gave no response. “That’s what I thought.”
I shared a meal with the old man and woman whom I am staying with. It is amazing how they gain enjoyment from sharing themselves with each other. They share little details about how each of their days went. It’
s as if they work toward relating to, or understanding, each other.
They tried to ask me questions, but I was not prepared to answer things that I could not be forthright about. I did my best to turn the conversation back toward their lives instead of mine. I know I will eventually have to give them some sort of story, but I don’t want to make any hasty decisions. This is going to be an amazing experience though, I can see that already.
–Chera
“This journal is so odd,” said Iolana. “This woman speaks of everyday life as if she is experiencing it for the first time. Also, I think she might be a spy. Whatever she is, she seems to need to maintain some sort of secrecy.”
“She was probably mentally ill. That journal is obviously filled with meaningless gibberish.”
“I like it,” said Iolana.
The Messenger mumbled to himself and tried to reach out and speak with the Holy.
I need to speak with you.
No response.
The Holy had not spoken to the Messenger since before he had entered the cave with Iolana. It was beginning to bother him very much. The Holy had never ignored him for such a long period of time.
Did I do something wrong? he thought. Have I displeased him? He searched his mind for what might be the reason that the Holy was not there. He ran the events that had transpired through his mind, and he could come up with nothing. He couldn’t think of a single thing that he might have done to upset the Holy. He thought back to one of his few conversations with Joe Shein. Joe was the only other person he had ever known that the Holy had spoken to, but it had not lasted forever. He wasn’t even sure how long the communication had lasted at all. Joe had upset the Holy through his lack of faith and the loss of that communication had ruined Joe and turned him into a monster. The Messenger feared that loss more than anything else in the world. The Holy had given his life a purpose. Without that purpose, what was he?
The Messenger turned to look at Iolana as they were walking. She still had her head buried in the journal. Should I be allowing her to read that? he wondered. Frustration was beginning to take the Messenger. Why won’t the Holy speak to me? He knows that I need his guidance. Especially now, while I am in the presence of her. This is a horrible time for him to disappear. What am I supposed to do? The Messenger gritted his teeth in anger. Then, out of nowhere, it hit him. I was supposed to gain her trust. I’m not doing what he has asked of me. I am displeasing him.
He again looked over at Iolana reading the journal. “Have you found anything interesting yet?”
Iolana looked up in confusion. “You mean this book of meaningless gibberish?”
“Well, I may have been hasty in dismissing the book. It may hold clues as to what that ruined palace was.”
“I could read it aloud, if you like.”
“All right.”
Iolana began to read aloud from where she had left off.
I have asked Densa to keep a journal of his own, so that we can cross-reference our experiences, but he thought that it seemed foolish.
“Does the journal say who Densa is?” asked the Messenger tentatively, in full knowledge of who the Densa was that Chera spoke of.
“Not yet. It seems like this Densa may be working with Chera in some capacity. The journal has been vague on details and seems mostly concerned with feelings.”
“Keep reading,” urged the Messenger.
I wish Densa had chosen to take a standing closer to the one that I have. I think my experience is much greater than his due to my status. I feel like I’m learning a great deal more than he is. He can be very stubborn, but I am glad that he has joined me in this adventure. Densa can actually be quite nice when he isn’t being completely unbearable.
–Chera
Iolana finished the passage and giggled quietly.
“What’s so funny?” asked the Messenger.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Iolana. “I guess it’s just funny that despite time, place or person, certain things never seem to change.”
The Messenger was confused, but nodded at Iolana, trying desperately to relate to what she was saying.
“So,” began the Messenger, “are you still having feelings of familiarity, or did that stop when we left the ruins?”
“No,” said Iolana hesitantly. “It stopped after the ruins. Why do you ask?”
The Messenger was afraid that he might have been too transparent. “No reason. I was just curious to know if your memory might be coming back.” He tried to change the subject. “Why don’t you read another passage?”
The change of subject worked and Iolana, once again, turned her curiosity toward the book.
Entry 4
I’m going to have to choose some sort of identity. The curiosity of the people I am surrounded by is increasing, and they seem to be rather put-off when I withhold information from them, especially the fact that I won’t tell them my name. I certainly can’t tell them the truth. They would probably think that I was insane if I even attempted to give them the truth. I must confess, however, that my desire to choose an identity is somewhat influenced by a man that I have recently met. His name is Charles Nesbitt, and he is the captain of a fishing boat.
I was walking near the docks, enjoying the sun as it reflected off of the water, when he approached me and asked me for my name. I told him that I had no name, but he realized that I was not telling the truth. I suppose not having a name was something I couldn’t expect someone to believe. He wanted to know all about me and asked if he could meet me some time. I declined, but he persisted. He wanted to know where I was staying and I saw no harm in telling him.
The very next day, he brought me a basket of flowers, and again, asked me for my name. I had no name to give to him and he left. The very next day, he brought me another basket of flowers, and again, asked for my name. Again, I had no name to give him, but that did not deter his efforts in the least.
It has been a week like this now, and every day he brings a basket of flowers to me and asks for my name. The old woman I stay with has counseled me to stop being so coy. I was unaware that I was being coy, but they do not know my secret. The old woman told me that Captain Nesbitt was a very respectable and hardworking man, and other women would consider themselves lucky to have his attention.
I have to admit; there is something about Charles that is pleasing. I think that I will give him a name. I heard a woman’s name the other day that I found rather nice. I’ll tell Charles that my name is Iolana.
–Chera
Iolana looked up at the Messenger, who had stopped walking and was staring directly at her.
“Is it even possible?” Iolana asked. She quickly flipped the book around and looked at the etching upon the cover. She looked back at the Messenger with fear and confusion in her eyes. “Murray, who am I?”
“It’s just coincidence,” the Messenger replied. “Just an odd coincidence. You couldn’t possibly be this woman. You saw those ruins. That book is far older than you could possibly be.”
“But I can’t remember anything. Murray, I’m scared.” Iolana walked forward and wrapped her arms around the Messenger. He didn’t know what to do, she was crying. Where is the Holy? he thought. He was totally lost in this situation. He slowly raised his hand and placed it upon Iolana’s head.
“It will be fine,” he said and began to run his fingers through her hair. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Chapter 14: The Coast of Felaqua
“I don’t care if you are Densa. You’re like a brother to me and I want you to come back. If you can hear me, you need to come back.”
Riverpaw sat by the cot where Evercloud was laid after he had been retrieved from the ocean. As soon as he had fallen in, both Tomas and Ben had jumped in after him. No real harm had befallen Evercloud, but either due to the shock of Nesbitt’s words, or the impact of hitting the water, Evercloud had still not awakened from unconsciousness.
They had immediately taken him below deck and laid him upon a co
t. They covered him with blankets for warmth, and Riverpaw had not left his side. More than a half of a day had passed since Evercloud had fallen, and the crew was beginning to worry. Ben walked down the steps leading to Riverpaw’s vigil.
“Still nothing?”
“No. Nothing.”
“He’ll be back. He’s made of stronger stuff than that.”
“I know he is, but…”
“But, what?” asked Ben.
“Do you think Nesbitt is right? Do you think he is him?”
“I don’t know, Riverpaw. There’s a part of me that hopes he is and there’s a part of me that hopes he isn’t, but I really don’t know. I guess it wouldn’t surprise me, at this point, if he were. There’s no denying that he is different. It would also explain his mysterious origins.”
“I just want him to be Evercloud,” said Riverpaw. “Just Evercloud.”
Ben placed a hand upon the bear’s shoulder for sympathy. Ben knew that the worst thing that could happen to them would be for their spirits to shatter.
“Hey, get up here!” Tomas yelled from the top of the stairs. “This is amazing!”
“He’ll be all right,” Ben said to Riverpaw. “Let’s go see what knucklehead wants.”
Riverpaw agreed and they made their way above deck. The rest of the crew of The Rusty Nail stood at the railing, looking off into the distance. Tomas was leaning out over the side of the ship.
“Wow. Would you look at that.”
Ben and Riverpaw looked and saw a couple of small islands.
“Islands,” said Ben. “Does that mean we’ve reached the coast of Felaqua?”
“Those aren’t islands,” replied Nesbitt. “But yes, we’ve reached Felaqua.”
Riverpaw looked again, out at the horizon, and squinted his eyes.
“What are they if they’re not islands?”
“Turtles,” said Nesbitt.
“Turtles?” echoed Riverpaw.
“Giant Felaquan turtles. Each of the Felaquan monks makes his home upon the back of one of those turtles. One of the rituals of becoming a Felaquan monk is, more or less, to become one with a Felaquan turtle. The creatures are sacred among the Felaquans. If someone were to cause harm to one of those creatures, the Felaquans would execute them. The monks live upon the backs of the turtles, leaving very rarely.
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