Oracle--Sunken Earth

by C. W. Trisef

  “We are very glad you have come to help us,” Alana said, beaming at Ret.

  “Don’t hold your breath, sweetheart,” Ana sneered to herself, repulsed by the princess’ forwardness toward Ret. Paige looked on with worried apprehension.

  “Help you?” Mr. Coy asked. “Help you with what?”

  “With the war,” Alana answered.

  “War?” Coy exclaimed in protest.

  “Now, now,” Lionel intervened. “Don’t get your fanny pack in a twist.” Mr. Coy shot Lionel an expression of utter loathing. “The war is nothing more than a decoy.” Lionel took a few eager steps to a nearby table, where laid a crude sort of map, which, at a glance, resembled three concentric circles. Lionel motioned for the others to gather round. Ret immediately recognized it as a map of Sunken Earth. The great mountain and its industrial district comprised the innermost circle, which was surrounded by the middle circle of suburbia, followed by the outermost circle—by far the largest—with its innumerable slums. All but the slums were enclosed by wide waterways, which Ret recognized as the two great rivers they had crossed when the guards had escorted them through the slums and then the suburbs en route to the prison. With particular interest, Ret studied the innermost circle, which laid out the location of the government buildings and military strongholds, as well as Lye’s personal palace, rising to the highest elevation of any other building throughout the land.

  “We are here,” Lionel said, pointing to a large clump of slums on the west side of Sunken Earth. “This clan is just a sliver of the dozens that make up the lower level.” He waved his hand along the entirety of the outside circle to distinguish the lower level. “Tomorrow, at first light, all members of the lower level will storm each of the entrances into the middle level.” Lionel pointed to the several entryways. “With millions of people charging at the gates simultaneously, Lye’s security forces will be overwhelmed. Once we seize control of the middle level, we will move on to the upper level.”

  “And how is this a decoy?” Ret questioned.

  “Always a step ahead, aren’t you, Ret?” Lionel poked playfully. “While Lye and his minions are preoccupied with our invasion, you will be climbing the great mountain.”

  “Me?” Ret asked incredulously.

  “You heard me,” Lionel confirmed. “I’ll get you safely to the foot of the mountain; then it’s all up to you.”

  “So while we’re at ground zero, risking our necks,” Mr. Coy said, “Ret will be enjoying a pleasant afternoon of mountaineering. Is that your brilliant plan?”

  “As far as you are concerned, Mr. Coy,” Lionel replied cheerfully, “yes.” Apparently, it wasn’t one of Lionel’s priorities to gain the approval of Mr. Coy. “That mountain is hiding something, I just know it. Why else would Lye guard it so heavily? Why else would he go to such great lengths to protect it?”

  “Did you see anything when you descended from the peak?” Ret asked.

  “No,” Lionel answered. “I didn’t know there was anything to see. And, besides, Lye told me to stay put.” His face indicated his regret. “But, whatever it is, it’s what we need in order to win this struggle, to turn the tide, and restore justice to these oppressed people.”

  “And you’re sure about this?” Mr. Coy asked skeptically.

  “Definitely,” Lionel reaffirmed. “Somewhere within that peak is a substance so pure—so powerful—that it charges the soil, repels the ocean, swirls the vortex. I’m sure of it. And Ret is the only one with the power to acquire it. Ret is the essential element.”

  The final word from Lionel’s lips rang in Ret’s ears like the whistle of a freight train. After all that had been said and done since arriving in Sunken Earth, he had nearly forgotten the original purpose of their visit. Slowly, Ret turned and stared at Mr. Coy, hoping that the word element had registered in his mind, too. Mr. Coy cordially returned Ret’s glance; then, when Ret kept staring at him, Mr. Coy shot him a glare as if to say, “Knock it off!” Rolling his eyes, Ret held up his right hand, with the palm facing Mr. Coy, and pointed to the scar of the hook and triangle. Memory jogged, Mr. Coy’s eyes lit up. He instinctively reached in his pocket to check on the Oracle, then returned Ret’s helpful stare with a wink and a thumbs-up.

  When Ret had finished communicating with Mr. Coy, he was stunned to find a man kneeling at his feet. Finding it a challenge to identify the man whose head was bowed in reverence, Ret looked up to see the woman who he had rescued standing at Princess Alana’s side, whispering in her ear.

  “You are a brave man,” Alana complimented Ret. “Hero,” she added, finding the word she was searching for. “You will please join us at our feast.” Then Alana kissed Ret lightly on his cheek and excused herself from the group.

  “Looks like we’ve got a live one, Big P,” Ana remarked wincingly to an awestruck Paige.

  “Well then,” Lionel spoke up, breaking the silent puzzlement that had gripped the group from Alana’s display of affection. “Shall I show you the preparations for battle?”

  Lionel led them down a flight of earthen stairs to a vast network of underground workshops. The place was alive with industry. Piles of ropes and cords sat at the feet of wooden ladders and homemade catapults.

  “Besides your traditional weaponry,” Lionel yelled above the roar of the bustle, “you’ll notice something else.” He pointed to the countless mounds of salt, rising in heaps that were too numerous to count. “The secret ingredient in our recipe for victory!” he shouted, smiling with pride.

  Ret was intrigued by the desalinization process employed by the peasantry of Sunken Earth, no doubt taught to them by Lionel. The ever-present salt water was heated, producing steam but leaving behind the precious salt.

  “We’ve had to conceal our operation underground,” Lionel explained, “or else the large amounts of steam would give us away like Indian smoke signals!”

  While a portion of the salt was reserved in solid form, a considerable quantity of it was devoted to creating solid sodium and gaseous chlorine. The sodium pieces were then forged into spheres the size of boulders while the chlorine gas was trapped in hallowed tree trunks or wrapped in patchworks of broad leaves from the forests.

  Among all the production was a steady workforce overseeing transport. Being the eve of battle, it was clear that the preparations were on the move. By way of brute strength and rolling wheels, the armory was continuously being emptied as these self-proclaimed soldiers manned their stations.

  At one point, cries filled the air as one of the outbound carts tipped over, spilling hundreds of pounds of salt on the ground. After much effort, the crew managed to return the cart to its upright position, and then they began the tedious task of shoveling the salt back aboard the transport. Noticing their need, Ret felt he could lend a helping hand. With one quick flick of his wrist, he lifted the spilled load and returned it to the vehicle. Hearty applause filled the underground chamber as workers swarmed Ret in gratitude. Off to the side, the Coys stood with Ivan and the Cooper women, ignored and forgotten.

  For, it seemed, word had gotten around of Ret—his perfectly-timed arrival, his promised assistance, his famous heroics, his special powers. At every turn, Ret was greeted with praise and admiration. Hailed by men and adored by women, even the children clustered around his legs as if in search of his autograph. Some admirers shouted what little English words they knew, but most were content to simply ruffle his hair or touch his scars or look at his eyes.

  “What’s a celebrity like you doing with a bunch of little people like us?” Ana remarked to Ret when he at last joined them in the modest room that Princess Alana had reserved for her guests.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ret wondered innocently, his smile fading.

  “You know exactly what it means, Ret,” Ana pressed. “These people love you; you’re a superstar. We might as well go home and leave you here to live happily ever after with your cheeky princess.”

  “Now, Ana,” Pauline chimed in with disapprov
al.

  “What?” Ana said indignantly. “Don’t get mad at me for being the only one brave enough to tell Ret how we all feel.” The room fell silent as despondence overshadowed their faces.

  “You all feel this way?” Ret asked softly, beyond belief.

  “It seems as though we’re not needed,” Mr. Coy explained.

  “Not needed?” Ret repeated, nearly in uproar. “Didn’t you see how these people are preparing for their war? They don’t stand a chance against Lye. Their only advantage is their sheer numbers. What are they going to do, trample the enemy to death—stampede them into submission?” Ret threw his hands up in hopelessness. “This isn’t war; it’s suicide—a massacre!”

  “Which is why we want no part in it,” Pauline said firmly.

  “No part?” Ret said, flabbergasted. “No part? Is that what Jaret would do? Would he just—”

  “Don’t you dare bring my husband into this, Ret Cooper!” Pauline demanded in all seriousness. Her words, spoken in such a commanding tone, had a profoundly subduing effect on the entire group. Despite his frustration, Ret held his peace.

  “As for tomorrow,” Pauline continued, though in a much milder manner, “we will return to the place where we entered this land. We should have no problem falling out of the ranks since no one here seems to pay much attention to us anyway, and, thanks to Lionel’s ‘decoy,’ we shouldn’t run into any guards on our trek through the wilderness this time.” Ret couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “There, by the pond at the end of the underwater road, we will wait for you, Ret.”

  “And what will I be doing, according to your plan?” Ret wanted to know, feeling slightly put upon.

  “Procuring the element, of course!” Mr. Coy answered. “That’s what this lost city is hiding, Ret—the first element. That’s why Lionel needs you to scale the mountain—he needs you to acquire the element.” It was clear from everyone’s agreeable expressions that they had all thought this through a great deal. “Which means you’ll be needing this.” Mr. Coy retrieved the Oracle from his pocket and tossed it to Ret, who stared at it for several seconds, mulling everything over in his mind.

  This was all happening a bit too fast for Ret’s liking. They had only just arrived in Sunken Earth, and now it was time to go? There was still so much that Ret wanted to see and do, ask and learn, explore and investigate. Besides obvious occurrences such as the presence of the symbol of his scar, each passing hour continued to reveal more evidences that Ret shared some connection with this newfound land: he resembled the people, their language had a recognizable ring to it, he felt so needed and accepted. Could this be the place of his nativity? Were these people his kinsfolk? Was he finally realizing his destiny?

  Ret didn’t know. But he did know, for the first time, that he was where he belonged. Never had he imagined that a place so foreign could feel so familiar—that amidst such great perplexity, he could find such clarity. This is what the prophecy on the parchment meant by “fill the Oracle”; this is what it meant by “cure the world.” Ret was certain of it: he would fill the Oracle with this nation’s all-powerful element and, thus, cure this backward civilization of its injustice and tyranny.

  “Fine,” Ret said at last, with an air of finite resoluteness. “But I’d rather die trying to save others than live trying to save myself.”

  No one knew quite what to say in reply to that statement. Eventually, Mr. Coy said, “You might feel differently tomorrow, son.” The same solemn bitterness with which Mr. Coy had spoken seemed to suddenly come over Pauline. Coy finished, “Witnessing death has a way of giving new meaning to life.” Then he, with his butler behind him, left the room, followed by Pauline and Ana, who were holding hands.

  Now that the others had fled the room, Ret noticed Paige, who had been standing inconspicuously to the side. Without sound and with head down, she approached him. Then, hardly looking up, a few muffled words escaped her lips.

  “Good luck tomorrow,” she half-whispered. “Please be careful.”

  “Thanks,” Ret said with a bit of displeasure, still feeling abandoned. Paige could sense Ret’s discontentment rankling within him. She hoped, by lingering and offering a few kind words, that she could remind Ret of her support, but he stood like a statue, cold and emotionless. With great deliberation, Paige slowly raised her head. Then, with slightly puckered lips, she reached to compensate for Ret’s height, but quickly pulled away. Too heartsick to feel embarrassed, she left the room, leaving Ret alone.

  * * * * *

  The evening meal was not a feast by any stretch of the imagination. Clutching hand-carved bowls filled to the brim with some sort of slop, the guests lined the benches of a series of glorified picnic tables, slurping and sipping with great elation. It was obviously a feast to them. Despite his hunger, however, Ret couldn’t bring himself to even sample the entrée, which featured chopped leaves and minced bark swimming in a hot broth of salt water. In between the never-ending claps on the back and cheers of praise from jubilant natives, Ret merely stirred his soup, inwardly longing for someone to talk to. When he moved to leave, a man sitting next to him pointed with interest at Ret’s untouched soup. Ret happily obliged.

  Lonely and pensive, Ret found a rickety sort of balcony away from the noise of the festivities where he could sort out his thoughts. Ever since the guards escorted him and his friends through the levels of Sunken Earth, one question had been weighing heavily on Ret’s mind: “Why are there levels?” He had never been exposed to such striking distinctions before; in fact, he would have felt right at home in the middle level had his eyes not been opened by what he had just witnessed while passing through the slums. What boggled Ret’s mind, however, was not that Lye had instigated such inequality but rather that the middle and upper levels condoned and perpetuated it. In the past, the citizens of Sunken Earth had been fairly equal, having most things in common. Therefore, when Lye showed up and assembled his caste system, it was not possessions that separated the people—it was principles: those who endorsed Lye with their possessions were rewarded by him with the snatched goods of those who held onto their principles. It was a matter of heart.

  Such was yet another blow to Ret’s rosy worldview. In a profound stupor, his mind staggered in contemplation of the unfathomable inequality of Sunken Earth. The abounding light from the middle level cast a welcome gleam on the walls of the dark slums near him. “How can two things, right next to each other,” he wondered, “be so different—so unequal?” He shook his head and sighed, “I’m glad there’s nothing like this back home.”

  Ret’s silence was interrupted by the voice of Princess Alana. “Where are your friends?” she asked, stepping onto the teetering balcony.

  “Oh, uh,” Ret stuttered, “they didn’t come—too tired,” which was mostly true, except for Ivan who, upon learning what was on the menu, balked at the absence of red meat. “Where’s Lionel?”

  “He comes and goes a lot,” Alana answered. “He has been a great help to my people. I am sure he is very busy preparing for tomorrow. It will be a good day for my people.”

  “For those who survive,” Ret added glumly.

  “Lionel says oppression is worse than death,” Alana continued. “Lionel says blood is the cost of freedom.”

  “But it doesn’t have to be—it shouldn’t,” Ret countered. “Are you ready to watch your people die?”

  “And die myself,” she said nobly.

  “You mean you’re going to fight, too?”

  “Of course,” vowed the princess. “If I have the power to declare war, then I also have the duty to fight in it.”

  “And if you die?”

  “Then I die,” said Alana, “but I do not plan to die. I plan to live, and see my people thrive, and watch this land blossom in peace and prosperity like it once did.” She stood next to Ret and mimicked him in leaning over the side of the balcony, overlooking the city. “In fact, I plan to grow old as their queen, and rule and reign, at the side of a king—a handsome
king.” With each word, Princess Alana seemed to snuggle deeper into Ret’s shoulder. “Just imagine, Ret,” she said, picking up Ret’s arm and placing it around herself, “tomorrow, we will win our independence, and you and I will be crowned victors, and together—as king and queen—we will turn the page to a new chapter in the history of Sunken Earth.”

  “Paige?” Ret exclaimed, suddenly springing up and nearly knocking Princess Alana to the ground. “Um, good luck with that, princess,” he said hastily. “See you tomorrow!” Ret awkwardly dashed off. Alana sighed before rejoining the celebration.

  Far from the slums, a great distance yet from where the echo of Ret’s exclamation had died, a feeble old man slowly climbed a polished set of stairs towards an ornate palace, which sat high above the surrounding buildings along the wide base of the great mountain. Reaching the landing, the winded man pushed open one of the double doors with great delicateness and hobbled inside with the aid of a white, spiraled cane.

  “Lord Lye,” a weary servant greeted the aged man, “all forces are in place to counter tomorrow’s attack by the lower level.”

  “Excellent,” Lye grinned.

  CHAPTER 15

  SUMMITING THE GREAT MOUNTAIN

  It was a sleepless night. Curled in their shabby cots, the Coys and Coopers lay wide awake, held captive by their conscious nightmares of what the ensuing day might bring. The ground beneath them rattled through the night from the incessant mobilizing of soldiers and ammunition as they migrated from their dens below to their hideouts above. Though aware of each other’s restlessness, not a word was spoken, partly because they still felt at odds over recent decisions but mostly due to Ivan’s heavy snoring.

  “Now you know why his quarters are in the basement,” Mr. Coy said in jest of his butler, half-yawning while speaking the first words of the night, which now was approaching dawn.

  Not much later, Princess Alana stepped into the room. “Come,” she said, parting the tattered sheet that hung in place of a door. “It is time.” They followed her into the streets, which were filled with silent commotion. Every man, woman, and child had been summoned to the battlefield to offer whatever help they could render for the cause of freedom.