by Ann Durand
Mike set his mug down. Even Astronomy 101 was too advanced for the age she lived in.
"It's the ground under your feet," he told her.
"Why is it my planet? Why not yours?" Sharp questions from this one. "You're not from here. And neither is Askinadon. You both come from the same place, don't you?" She was studying him carefully now. "Where is that place, Mikolen? Where are you from?"
"You'd never believe me," he said, pulling back.
"Please give me a chance," she said, straining toward him.
Mike sighed. She looked determined. If he had learned anything in his life, it was never to thwart a determined woman. And besides, if she were going to leave Parallon, she'd need to know what the stakes were. She deserved to know. He drew in a deep breath and looked into her eyes.
"Okay," he said, "listen carefully. I'm going to tell you a story about a different time and place far removed from this one. And it's going to take a while, so get comfortable."
Clutching her mug to her chest, Katera leaned back into her chair to listen.
"I'm all ears," she said.
Chapter Five
The morning was pale grey and the air brisk as Adrella started her journey to the bottom of Kan Mountain. It was a long way down, and the path was rocky and steep. Unable to balance properly without a saddle, and with her huge stomach protruding in front of her, she bounced across the hoshdel's broad back like an unwieldy ball. She rode an older mare named Chilika, who normally offered a smooth ride. On this path, however, every leap over ditch or small boulder left her slipping off the side or worse-nearly up and over Chilika's bowed head. She tried gripping the shaggy hair on the animal's withers for support, but it didn't help. In the end, she simply got off and walked, leading the beast with a rope. It was slow going, but at least the ground felt steady under her feet.
She reached the base of the mountain before nightfall and climbed onto Chilika's back. The rest of the trail would be flat. It wouldn't be long before she arrived at her village. In spite of the sinister purpose Askinadon had imposed upon her visit, she couldn't help feeling a growing sense of jubilation at the thought of seeing her parents, Moreesha and Rinden, again. It had been two very long years since that day the takatak had snatched her from the altar at Kopa Na An. Her parents didn't even know if she was still alive.
She urged Chilika forward, and the hoshdel lunged into a smooth-gaited run. She rode through the cool forests along the Kala River in the Tikon Forest while absorbing the remembered sights. The gushing sounds of the river, full from recent rains, comforted her, and the familiar scents of the forest with its tall sheltering trees conjured up a flood of memories. She thought about her childhood when she and Katera used to run barefoot over the thick mulch of the woodland floor next to this very river. She passed a small pool where they had spent hot summer days wading and splashing each other, engaged in great laughing contests with little more to tether them than the safety directives of their gentle parents. And over there, she glanced at a wide stump, was the place where Banken first kissed her. Dear, sweet Banken…killed by Askinadon before he could claim Adrella for his own.
As she drew closer to the village, nostalgia weighed heavy upon her heart. Would she ever know such simple pleasures again? Would her son…her unborn child? Or were they doomed to a life of servitude, attempting to placate an insatiable ego with the capacity to steal the very privacy of their thoughts?
With a nervous twitch, she reminded herself that Askinadon might be listening to her thoughts at this very moment, and with accomplished attention, she supplanted her thinking with happier visions of Rorken. Experience had taught her that Askinadon did not listen fulltime-possibly not even half time, but there was no point in getting careless. Especially given the nature of her trip-he would surely be tuning in more frequently.
The path through the forest opened up to an alpine meadow…the meadow that used to be her home. Clusters of hostas filled it end to end, especially around the perimeter of Kala Lake. Hoshdels, milling about in their corrals, were lowing softly to each other. Thin columns of smoke billowed up from stone chimneys, and the aroma of burning chipil wood from newly stoked fires tweaked her nose. It was almost dark- tummies would be full from meals of spit-roasted meats and seasoned broths. Across the meadow, lights flickered on inside the hostas as candles and hearths were lit in preparation for the night ahead. Children would soon be tucked into their beds, their prayers heard, their foreheads kissed.
She sat quietly on Chilika, engrossed in every detail as the sun slipped behind the Shirkas to the west, and the shadows dissolved into the darkness. Suddenly, she was blinking at the night, surprised that she could no longer see. With a sense of urgency fueled by impatience, she leaned forward in the saddle and the sure-footed hoshdel sprinted down the bank and into the meadow. She rode past the lake toward a group of hostas on the southern end of the village. Along the way, several heads poked outside front windows and doors to see her, and she heard a few fervent whispers.
"No, it couldn't be," said one woman's voice. "Are you sure it isn't the sister?"
"She's what?" asked another. "How far along?"
As Adrella neared the hosta of her parents and spied the familiar fence ringing it, her eyes welled up. Through the window within the firelit room, she could see her mother's shape huddled over the hearth prodding the flames, her profile glowing in the light. Adrella stopped in front of the window to watch her. Mama's Shalpacan spullera spilled onto the floor in front of her as she stoked the fire.
Papa appeared, strolling across the room toward Mama. His beard seemed longer and his temples grayer. Mama turned around as he approached, and Adrella saw her eyes. Merciful Lupana , they looked so sad. Mama laid her head on Papa's shoulder and they stood quietly holding each other, as if they had nothing else to do.
Adrella slid off Chilika and tied the reins to a post outside the window. She approached the front door with her heart pounding, and knocked. A pause inside, and then she heard her father's footsteps. As the door opened, she struggled to contain her excitement.
"Papa."
"What?" He peered at her. "Adrella?" His eyes grew wide.
"Who is it, Rinden?" her mother asked from inside.
Papa was staring at her belly. "Well, it isn't Katera. She's not pregnant." His voice sounded numb with disbelief.
By now, her mother had reached the door and was squeezing in front of Papa. Her hands flew to her mouth when she saw Adrella.
"Ohhhhh."
"Mama, it's me," Adrella said, moving closer as the tears escaped.
"Oh, merciful Lupana, my girl," Mama cried, and swept Adrella into her arms, plastering her wet face with kisses. "Adrella, Adrella," she repeated, her tears mingling with Adrella's. She leaned back for a moment and laughed, and then fell into the kisses once more. Then, she burst into tears again as if she'd just begun. At last, her hand found Adrella's belly and the laughing resumed. Then Papa moved in. He grasped her head in the crook of his arm and kissed the top of it. His strong shoulders shook from his dry sobs as he held her. A few curious neighbors gathered around the doorway, staring at Adrella in stunned silence.
"It's Adrella. She's back," Mama announced in a proud tone as she sequestered Adrella indoors. "You can see her tomorrow."
Papa shut the door behind them, and the three of them gawked happily at each other.
"You're alive," Papa said.
"I am alive, very much so. And so is the baby inside me."
Papa laid his hand on her stomach. "Askinadon?" His voice sounded threatening.
Adrella nodded. Papa's dark eyes sparked with fury. Adrella spoke quickly.
"Papa, I have another child-a son, Rorken. He's fifteen months old already."
Mama wrapped her arms back around Adrella. "Two grandchildren, Adrella? What wonderful news. You bring us such happiness, doesn't she, Papa?" Mama turned to look at Papa.
"Yes, yes," he said, but his eyes looked troubled. "I'm afraid not all is well he
re…I don't know how to tell you this, but recently, Katera…"
"Yes, I know," Adrella interrupted. "She's missing. That's why I've come."
Adrella took a step backward and looked at them both. They returned her gaze, inquiring with raised brows and fearful looks, asking her what she knew, what she could tell them about their other daughter. First I disappear, and then Katera, Adrella thought, reading their anxiety. They're wondering if we're going to disappear together this time…and they will be right.
She wished with all her heart that the news she was compelled to deliver, the news that would send them into a tailspin of grief and worry, would evaporate into a bad dream. She wished the Voice would speak to her. She wanted to hear Askinadon announce that he had abandoned the project, that it was no longer necessary for her to find Katera.
And somewhere else, deep in her soul, she wanted to embrace the joy of this reunion without distraction. Like a small child indulging in a simple pleasure, she wanted to root upon this spot forever, hugging Mama and Papa and drowning herself in their kisses.
However, no Voice interrupted her, and her parents were waiting, their expressions growing impatient.
"Mama, Papa," she began, but in the next breath, before she understood what was happening, something splashed onto the floor at her feet.
She looked down. She was standing in a puddle of water. Mama gasped.
"Your water broke. Your baby…"
"It's too early," Adrella said, gaping at the floor.
"Your trip down the mountain must have triggered it," Mama said, placing her arm around Adrella's shoulders and leading her to the bed. To Rinden, she called, "Bring me some clean blankets."
"Oh, no," Adrella moaned. She lowered herself to the bed, a sharp pain wracking her lower body. "Mama…"
"It's okay. You're home. I'll take care of you."
Adrella smiled at her mother, but as she lifted her legs onto the bed, another pain tore through her like a tidal wave, peaking and crashing in her middle. She struggled not to cry out, but then another one came upon the heels of the last, and she heard herself scream. Mama was talking rapidly now, hoping to calm her, but Adrella couldn't understand the words through her pain…it sounded like gibberish. As the pain subsided, Adrella placed her hand on her belly, felt it heave as her baby lurched inside. Then, new waves of pain streaked through her center.
What was going on? Rorken's birth did not cause her so much pain, even at the end of her labor. Why did this feel so different? A sense of dread, as if a predatory takatak were watching her, seeped into her gut.
Then, as quickly as it came, the pain ceased. Papa brought a bowl of water and a cloth to Mama, who wet it, wrung it out, and used it to wipe Adrella's face and forehead. It felt cool on her hot cheeks. Before Adrella had a chance to thank her, another pain hit, this one harder than the others. She writhed on the bed, too surprised to cry out. Mama chanted softly, trying to soothe, but her voice was trembling.
The pains came one on top of another for hours. Adrella's cries sliced into the night air with unrelenting intensity. Mama peeled Adrella's clothes off and massaged her body and aching muscles throughout the ordeal. Finally, as the first rays of light filtered through the window, Adrella birthed a pale blue baby girl. The infant did not move or cry out.
Moreesha swept up the tiny body and retreated, but before she could exit the room, Adrella called for her infant. Biting her lip, Moreesha turned around. She walked back to the bed and handed Adrella the lifeless body. As Adrella cradled it in her arms, a drop of colostrum fell from an expectant breast onto the unmoving lips of the infant.
A low, roiling sound welled up inside Adrella's throat. Deep and involuntary, it carried grief amplified by newly unleashed suppression. She raised her head as a roar grew within her and let it spill out, unrestrained. Outside the open window, in the meadow, heads turned and voices hushed. She wailed, uninterrupted, while Mama sat wringing her hands.
When she had spent herself, Adrella lowered her head and wept softly over her baby's head and the thin coating of fine, dark hair. She wept, clutching the dead child and kissing the small, cold fingers and lips. Finally, she fell back on the bed, exhausted and unable to weep any longer.
She fell asleep then, her head rolling off to one side, her arms clasping the baby to her bosom. After a time, Mama reached over, untangled the baby from Adrella's arms, and handed it to Papa. She instructed him to bury it in the Tikesh Fields next to the grave of her own mother, Lonalla.
"So she can watch over the baby," she explained.
Papa nodded, wrapped the baby in a swaddling cloth and stepped outside to saddle up his hoshdel. He left for the northern fields, solemn and quiet as he clutched the tiny bundle in one arm. Mama pulled the blanket over Adrella, smoothing it around her body. For a few moments, she checked her daughter's breathing-soft and even for the first time that night. Then, she laid a hand upon Adrella's cheek, bowed her head, and let her own tears fall silently into her lap.
Chapter Six
For the first time in a decade, Katera did not want to stop dreaming. She'd been dreaming all night, waking intermittently and falling back into delicious sleep. No Voice lurked in the spidery recesses of her mind, waiting to violate her sense of well-being. There were neither screeching takataks nor commanding Kastaks wielding bistons and ill tempers. Askinadon and his dark servants were absent from these dreams.
Instead, she dreamed of simple things made blissful by their nearly forgotten status. Her head felt weightless and unburdened, as if a bright light had turned on, dispelling all dark things. Early in the night, she dreamed of sharing secrets with her sister the way they used to share them-alone and in the forest together. She could feel Adrella's breath in her ear as her sister divulged the intimate details of a boy's kiss…was it Banken? Later, she dreamed about Keshun, the boy who had loved her before Askinadon had him killed. She dreamed of Keshun's arms around her on that day he'd confessed his love. It felt as if it was happening all over again…the long, lingering embrace mixed with slow words that sighed with yearning.
These intimate encounters from the days of old-the days before Askinadon-made up the stuff of her dreams on this night. The small acts, the ones forever unobserved save by the participants, danced in and out of her procession of images throughout the night. She felt as if the expression of her soul had resurrected inside her dreaming like the rise of a glittering full moon.
And then, in her final dream of the night, her imagination leapt forward, out of the past. She found herself riding on the back of a hoshdel as the animal loped through Kiddik Meadow alongside the Hapa River in the north. A man was sitting behind her, his body pressed against her back. She felt his arms, warm from the sun, reaching around her to grip the reins. His breath puffed against the side of her face, carrying the sweet scent of minola. The sensations created from his nearness tickled her and she laughed, unrestrained. Ne Kamana Ya, she whispered in the old language. I could love you. She twisted around to see him, but there was no one behind her. Then she heard his voice again, but it was coming from somewhere else.
"Katera, wake up." Nik. Ya nik rastan…I don't want to. "We have to get ready, Katera. We have a long ride ahead of us."
What? Katera opened her eyes and blinked into the dimly lit cavern. Mikolen was kneeling beside her.
"Hello," she said, smiling.
"Hello." His voice was soft. "I have saddled and packed a hoshdel for each of us. We must eat and leave right away. We've a long way to go."
Katera sat up, surprised. "Where are we going?"
"Out of Parallon. To another village on the other side of the Shirkas. We'll head north, first. It's the quickest…"
"No." Katera was now fully awake. "I'm not leaving Parallon."
"Katera, you must. If you stay, it's just a matter of time before Don…I mean Askinadon finds you again." He calls him again by that other name , Katera observed. "And it will not go well for you when he does," Mikolen finished, looking worried
.
Katera stood up, stepped off the sleeping pad, and walked to the opposite wall. She stood facing it for a moment before turning back around. Mikolen had stood and was watching her.
"I'm not leaving Parallon," she announced again, quietly.
Mikolen sighed, as if he were summoning the patience to argue with a child. "Last night…I thought I explained it to you. You can do nothing for your people. You must save yourself. Do you want to return to a life where your thoughts can be policed at any time? Where you must obey the commands of someone you can't even see? Can you find happiness in a life like that? When everyone around you is just as miserable?"
"No, I cannot find happiness in that life. But I would rather live it for rest of my days-in misery if I must-and stay with my family and my people. I'd rather do that than live in complete freedom with strangers. Besides," she said, lowering her voice, "you will help me free my people. Won't you? You can remove the Voice from their heads." She touched her forehead. "Like you did for me."
Mikolen's head drooped. When he lifted it again, he looked exasperated.
"Do you realize how impossible that would be? As soon as Askinadon got wind of it-and he'd get wind of it real quick-he'd have his Kastaks and rocsadons and takataks swoop down into your village like ants on syrup." Mikolen paused and crossed his arms. "And, in a heartbeat, he'd have new discs installed in the foreheads of every one of you."
Katera sat down in a wooden chair against the cave wall and paused to think. She had learned last night that Askinadon was not a god. He was merely a man-and a bad one at that-a murderer from Mikolen's world. Mikolen had called this world Earth. Both men had come from Earth and arrived in Parallon by way of a special device that had allowed them to disappear from one place and reappear in another. It had been destroyed in a struggle that ensued after they arrived in Katera's world. Katera didn't understand how any of it was possible, but she felt certain she had heard the truth. Throughout his tale, her Lan Ma Ke had glowed like a torch. When she looked back at Mikolen, he'd cocked his head to one side as he studied her.
