Burden of Sisyphus

by Jon Messenger

  “Are you crazy?” Tusque asked brusquely. “Close the shutter, Boss. They’ll find us.”

  “No need. Come take a look.”

  Tusque was joined by the other two, as they walked to the window. Looking out, they stared at an empty street, marred by signs of struggle and death, but still empty.

  “Where are they hiding?” Hollander asked. “They have to be out there.”

  “I don’t see them anywhere,” Pateros said.

  “That’s because they aren’t there,” Ixibas said proudly. He’d been standing at the window for the better part of an hour, scanning the city for signs of life. “When the sun started coming up, they disappeared. Their lights blinked out one after the other, as morning approached. Eventually, just before I had to shut off the thermals, there wasn’t a single living creature visible in the city.”

  “And the outpost?” Hollander asked.

  “I don’t know. If there’s someone inside, they won’t show up on thermals. I’ve tried raising them by radio but got nothing. Either they’re dead, or the outpost walls block the signal.”

  “Where would they go?” Tusque asked, his weak voice still rumbling. “There were so many, Boss. Where’d they go?”

  “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the Seque are nocturnal. They’re sleeping. That means there’s nothing between us and the edge of the city.”

  He gestured to the pile of armor and weapons on the floor. “Get your things. We’re leaving this city forever.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Awakening with a start, Keryn coughed roughly. Her throat burned. As she cracked open her eyes in the dark room, smoke stung them. Though only a faint glow filled the room from ambient light in the hall, she saw thick, acrid smoke quickly filling her bedroom.

  Somewhere in the barracks, either on their floor or below, a fire belched dark smoke through the halls, burning up the oxygen and threatening to overwhelm the sleeping Wyndgaart. Keryn felt lucky a violent coughing fit pulled her from deep sleep.

  Coughing again, she quickly climbed from bed and looked across the room. Through the smoke and gloom, she saw Iana’s sleeping form.

  Pulling her shirt over her nose and mouth to block the smoke, Keryn hurried to her roommate’s side. She was barely able to make out her shape, as more dense smoke filled the room. Reaching down, she grasped the bundle on the bed, shaking it violently to wake the sleeping Pilgrim. The bedding flattened out to reveal it was nothing more than sheets and blankets bunched deceptively in the darkness.

  Though it was the middle of the night, Iana wasn’t in the room. Concerned about her roommate and friend, Keryn realized she couldn't remain in the barracks. The smoke was almost overwhelming, and she coughed hoarsely, as it burned and dried her throat. Her eyes watered, blurring her vision and cutting streaks through the soot caking her face. Staggering toward the doorway and the soft light leaking from around the doorframe, she pulled it open and rushed into the hall.

  Down the length of the hallway, the overhead lights flickered, as the unseen fire burned at the wiring. The neon lights flashed pale white light through the gray and blue smoke hanging in the narrow hall like a thundercloud. Looking both ways, she couldn’t see anyone fleeing from the smoke. Unless they were trapped in their rooms, Keryn was alone in the barracks. Everyone else was evacuated.

  Shaking her head, she found it difficult to believe she was alone and had been left in the burning building. No one noticed her missing or ran down the hall, screaming her name. Her lungs filling with smoke, and her throat raw from coughing, she realized she was alone in the building.

  Staggering across the hall, she banged loudly on the door, trying to disprove her sinking suspicion. Hearing no answer, she reached for the handle. It was hot enough to burn her palm.

  Screaming in pain, she released the handle and saw it glowing brightly in the flickering gloom. Looking at her hand with tear-filled eyes, she saw a clear burn line imprinted on her palm. Pain radiated up her forearm, leaving her feeling nauseated, as she turned from the door.

  Clutching her burned hand to her chest, she stumbled up the hall toward a staircase leading to the ground floor and out of the burning Academy. As she passed each door, she felt waves of heat radiate from the walls, as the handles glowed in the heat. Ducking her head below the acrid smoke, she drove toward the last door on the left, which led to a stairwell, and, eventually, fresh air.

  Keryn reached for it and paused as another jolt of pain went up her arm from her burned palm. Her hand hovered over the handle, and she felt telltale signs of heat emanating from the doorframe. As she withdrew her hand, flowers of red heat blossomed along the length of the handle, spreading until the entire handle was consumed.

  Slowly, as the door heated from the unnatural fire behind it, the handle went from red to brilliant white. It glowed so brightly, she was forced to look away. The handle drooped and bent downward. Drops of liquid metal fell to the floor at her feet, burning the carpet.

  Backing away, she turned to the last door at the end of the hall—an emergency stairwell that led to the roof. Though the roof wouldn‘t be safe in a maelstrom of fire that was hot enough to melt metal, she had no other option. Her only hope was finding freedom from the thick smoke and signal for help. Fighting her sense of fear, she wiped away the sweat rolling down her forehead and washed more soot into her eyes.

  Tentatively tapping the door handle, she was surprised to find it cool to the touch. Quickly opening it, she looked up the unusually long stairwell. Behind her, the door clicked closed softly behind her, cutting off the smoke and flames. As it closed, the sounds of the flickering lights and distant, wavering flames disappeared.

  Keryn walked up slowly, her lungs screaming for fresh air. She tried to keep her eyes on the tall door at the top of the stairs, but it remained lost in the distance. No matter how many stairs she climbed, it never came closer.

  After walking for what seemed forever, her legs ached from exhaustion, and her breath came in labored gasps. Still, the doorway remained out of reach.

  Resting her head in her arms, she leaned against the railing and tried to catch her breath. Slowly, her lungs relaxed, and air flowed past her torn, raw throat.

  On her dry tongue, Keryn noticed an unusual tang to the air, which triggered her taste buds. Confused, she stepped up one stair, as she pushed off from the railing, and felt a seashell crunch under her heel.

  Barefoot, she felt the stair’s carved, pitted texture. She stepped back to look. The sterilized gray of the Academy steps was replaced by soft pink and blue pastel coral. Looking up higher, her lips quivering, she stared up the arched walkway leading to the Shrine of Initiation. A soft breeze blew salt air across her face, drying some of the sweat on her brow. In the distance, she heard crashing waves like rolling thunder, breaking on the cliff face. Nervously, she took another step higher, moving toward the Shrine’s auditorium and the Warrior’s Circle.

  Along the staircase, she saw figures carved into the coral walls. Looking closer, she realized they weren’t the religious figures of the Wyndgaart she saw so many times. These were twisted abominations. Each panel showed another scene between the man and woman, telling a story, as Keryn climbed higher. Though the figures started together in a semblance of the mating couple dominant in Wyndgaart theology, the next panel showed them separated. The male and female figures that once writhed together in pleasure faced each other in combat.

  Expressions of murderous rage were etched on those faces, as they brandished deadly weapons. The pair clashed time and again, as the scene progressed, leaving both with gaping wounds and covered in their own blood.

  Glancing upward, Keryn saw she was near the end of the stairs. Dread clenched her heart, as she prepared to step into the unknown. Intent on cresting the staircase and facing what awaited her, she failed to notice the last panel in the relief, a scene in which a dozen tentacles erupted from the spine of the male figure, as he threw himself at the female.

  Steppin
g through the archway, Keryn found herself wearing Initiate’s garb. Broad strips of fabric wound around her chest and groin. In her hand was a ceremonial Wyndgaart dagger, its blade curved and razor sharp. Hesitantly, she stepped from the entryway and passed between the elevated auditorium seating, as she approached the Warrior’s Circle.

  No soft chanting reached her ears. Unlike the last time she was there, no audience filled the seats. Glancing left and right, she walked toward the sandy stage. Above, a full moon cast its silvery light on the Shrine. Aside from the crashing waves, no sound reached her ears.

  Keryn stepped into the Warrior’s Circle, smiling to herself at the feel of soft sand cushioning her feet. She fought many battles in sand like that during her years of schooling. The feel brought memories flooding to her, as well as a sense of longing. Since leaving her home, she never felt as homesick as she did, standing in the Circle, breathing salty air and feeling sand between her toes.

  It’s hard to let go, isn’t it? a woman from the far side of the Circle asked.

  Spinning toward the voice, Keryn gave a surprised yelp and staggered backward. Across from her, just outside the Warrior’s Circle, was a replica of herself. Dressed in a cadet’s uniform, the doppelganger smiled confidently. Her flowing silver hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, allowing her bright tattoos to shine in the moonlight.

  Keryn dropped into a defensive stance with the knife held in front of her, threatening. “Who are you?” she hissed.

  The mimic walked casually around the Circle, ignoring her question, as she admired the architecture of the Shrine. Keryn turned with her, keeping her dagger ready.

  You spend so much time focusing on the end task, you barely ever take time to admire the world around you, the woman said. Life seems to pass you by before you realize it.

  “Who are you? What are you?”

  The woman paused and turned toward her. A familiar smile fell upon her lips, one Keryn saw many times in her own mirror. Though she refused to believe her eyes, she knew the woman mimicked her actions perfectly.

  You already know what I am, Keryn. You’ve heard my Voice in your head many times.

  Keryn stared at the strange woman, letting her voice roll through her mind repeatedly. She was right, and Keryn knew it. Though she never envisioned a personification for it, she knew she was looking at her own Voice.

  I never asked for much from you. She stepped forward, leaving a trail behind her. Barely visible, it showed a hundred different faces in her wake, as if Keryn looked at a series of mirrors. My only request was that you make us proud in whatever you chose to do. You aren’t making us proud, Keryn.

  The words struck with physical force. Keryn staggered backward before collapsing to the sand. The Voice spoke as if channeling a hundred ancestral voices through her own.

  You turned your back on us, Keryn. The words echoed in the air, alternating in pitch and tone, first sounding soft and feminine, then deep and masculine. You rejected us. You have left us in limbo, waiting for the day you decide to merge.

  “This isn’t real.” She climbed to her feet. “You aren’t real!”

  In a blur, the Voice was before her. With surprising strength, it caught her cheek with a backhand slap that tossed her down to the sand. Keryn touched the pain flaring on her face.

  Did that feel real enough? Do you still think this is a dream? Do you think it’s not real?

  As she ran her fingers over her bruised cheek, true fear twisted her stomach. “What do you want from me?”

  It’s not what I want. It’s what they want. With a wave of her hand, the stands filled with cadets. Though the figures in the seats wore cadet uniforms, their faces were blank. Flowing hair or dense fur framed their heads, stopping at the edge of empty ovals. Enough seats were filled that Keryn was sure every cadet was represented in the packed auditorium.

  They sat stoically in their seats, clutching a multitude of glowing, shimmering knives and blades similar to those she wielded during her aerial joust.

  They want revenge, Keryn. Every person here is someone you defeated during the ground-fighting portion of your training. Look in the front row. See the boy with crutches? You hurt him so bad in the bar, he won’t be able to walk on his own for a week or more.

  Keryn saw the faceless figure that was clearly Zalide, Sasha’s boyfriend. Though he had no readable expression, his body language showed a clear desire for revenge. He swung his shimmering knife angrily, and the blade seemed to yearn for her blood. Keryn scanned the rest of the crowd, searching for other familiar faces.

  They aren’t here. The Voice read her mind. Some don’t want you dead, so they aren’t present. One wants you dead so badly, there was no way she could be represented as just another faceless person among the crowd.

  As Keryn watched, the Voice walked toward the low wall at the back of the Shrine to look over the ledge, down hundreds of feet to the crashing waves.

  They want your blood, Keryn. I might’ve stopped them, but you turned your back on me and your entire race. Now I leave you to them, and I turn my back on you.

  Keryn scampered to her feet, as the crowd stood in unison. Slowly, moving like animated corpses, the audience shambled toward her, jabbing the air with greedy knives. The weight in her hand shifted. Looking down, she saw she no longer held the ceremonial knife. In one hand was her blue, shimmering blade, while the other held the pistol from the joust.

  Her Initiate’s garb was gone, replaced by the thick, black suit from the previous day. Keryn looked from her pistol to the crowd, knowing her gun would never stop them all. The faceless audience didn’t wear jousting suits, which meant her knife was useless against them.

  “You’re pathetic,” an arrogant, familiar voice called from the wall behind her. “You were a failure from the moment you entered the Academy.”

  Keryn turned angrily.

  Standing atop the wall, her back to the cliff, Sasha sneered at the Wyndgaart. She wore the same jousting suit Keryn wore. Sasha’s spiteful eyes narrowed to slits. Her wings outstretched, the Avalon mocked her from her delicate perch.

  “You never deserved to be in the Academy!” Sasha shouted. “You’re a savage!”

  Groping fingers closed around Keryn’s hair, tugging and pulling her toward the vengeance-driven crowd. Their eerie silence haunted Keryn, as she threw an elbow against the nearest person. He collapsed backward without a word and was swallowed by the surging crowd.

  Sasha backed closer to the edge until only her toes gripped the wall. She snarled at Keryn, as the audience reached out with pale and dark hands, trying to pull her into their seething mass. Keryn’s hatred of the pompous Avalon swelled, as Sasha screamed obscenities at her.

  “You’ll never graduate as long as I’m here,” Sasha said over the shuffling of mindless feet. “The only way to beat me is to kill me!”

  With her last cry, Sasha leaned backward and disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Keryn, breaking free of the clawing hands, rushed toward the edge. Catching sight of the pale wings plummeting farther away, Keryn didn’t break stride and launched herself over the edge of the Warrior’s Circle.

  She became weightless, as she free fell toward the ocean. Her silver hair trailed behind, while the cliff shot past in a blur. Tightening her grip on her pistol, she kept her eyes on the falling Avalon. She could still see Sasha’s sardonic smile, as she watched the Wyndgaart descend. Tucking her arms to her side and angling downward, Keryn dived, intent on crashing headlong into the Avalon.

  As she drew closer, Sasha’s body jerked violently, though the scornful smile never faded from her lips. The center of her abdomen distended, rounding as though she were pregnant, before a spear tip burst through her skin. Sasha slid down the shaft, smearing tip and haft with dark, red blood. Though she was impaled, malicious laughter bubbled from her throat. She moved her lips as if speaking, her words carried hauntingly on the wind, reaching Keryn’s ears like distant whispers.

  “The only way to beat me is to
kill me,” the disembodied voice whispered. “The only way to beat me is to kill me. The only way….”

  Keryn pulled her pistol from her side, the muscles in her arms straining, as she struggled to aim at the martyred Avalon below. Pulling Sasha into the sights, she squeezed the trigger. Blue light leaped from the end of the barrel. The contemptuous smile never left Sasha’s lips, even when the laser struck her chest.

  Instead of paralyzing Sasha, it struck her like a rock hitting a window. Her body cracked, sending fine, spider-webbed fractures across her torso and down her arms and legs. A crack split her face and her ever-present smile in two. Still, bubbling laughter mocked Keryn. She fired again, and the second laser struck the same spot. Sasha’s body shattered like glass, sending shards of the Avalon and the spear spiraling away toward the ocean.

  With the laughter gone, all Keryn heard was the whipping of the wind and the thunderous waves.

  Still falling, she saw the jutting rocks reaching from the waves like the teeth of a hungry monster. Keryn plummeted toward the open maw of rock and saltwater, falling hopelessly to her death. The fear that gripped her returned tenfold. She’d been so focused on killing Sasha, she never considered the consequences when she leaped from the ledge. As she passed the two-thirds mark of her fall, she realized how shortsighted she’d been.

  Keryn threw out her arms, hoping to slow her descent. Tears stung her eyes and burned in her chest, a mixture of fear and regret spilling down her cheeks and falling away behind her. Through blurry vision, four lines coalesced, blocking her sight of the deadly rocks. They thickened and formed sturdy, glowing fingers.

  Following the fingers, she saw Iana’s disembodied face, smiling compassionately. Beside her, Bellini appeared, and another hand materialized below her. Other faces emerged, those of cadets she met and befriended during her training, their hands joining the first two.

  Slowly, the fingers interlocked and crossed. As they thinned, they left behind a gossamer net of softly glowing yellow light. Keryn struck the net, and it collapsed around her. Though she still fell, it felt as though she passed through water. The net enveloped her, wrapping her in a secure cocoon.