by Marc Mulero
Eres deflated, legs stopped twitching with enthusiasm, head turned away and buried into his knees.
What the heck are they saying? Why is Ooma talking funny?
“Does the fire still burn in him?” Agden asked.
“More than you know. I tell vim all the time that ve is too much like vis fata.”
Agden winked at her and then proceeded to the next room beside Lorfa. “Nothing makes me prouder. A short year ago, I dreamt for the day that I could teach Eres of the Skrols. Of what his fata is.”
“And now? Will you tell vim about the assassin?”
“Seren Night is a cancer like no other,” he said somberly. “Two more dead and their espers stolen. The deepest oaths are breaking, Lorfa. It pains me greatly. To watch all that I’ve helped protect crumble in my short span of life… it’s heart wrenching. I must do what I can to combat it. To combat him.”
Ooma shook her head and snapped her tongue. “Does he know?” she asked cryptically, her voice fading from Eres’ ears as they reached the kitchen.
“No one knows but the three in this house,” Agden’s voice was muffled, “and it will stay that way. For the good of the Skrols.”
Eres crawled silently around the staircase to where the adults were standing a moment earlier, using the sounds of chatter and rustling to mask any noise he may have made on his way. He bent from knees to his feet, still crouched, grateful that the shinnons were tight, for these were the only times that his home didn’t creak. Desperate for more information, a few more carefully timed tip-toed steps got him far enough away from the windows and close enough to hear. He stood, one amber eye peeking around the corner. His father was huddled near his bag and rotated a finger over small dials. One by one, each strap zoomed into its holder. All the while, his ooma hobbled around to prepare hot beverages for the two of them.
“Did the Eplons give more gifts?” Ooma asked, finally sitting in anticipation of what was to be presented.
“Not this time. It was our oldest bonds that welcomed me with open arms - the Dagos. And how grateful I am for it.” Agden pulled out various kits made of wicker and encasements of oil, spreading them on the table before her. “Always sniffing around on all fours. Their nature allows them to understand things that us Umboro do not.”
“And vice versa.” Ooma rummaged to inspect, knowingly nodding her head in approval of each item’s quality before moving on to the next. Her mouth was pulled into a defiant frown, fighting the worry of what these gifts meant. “We have to give Eres the choice. Only ve can choose what to appear as. Do you understand me, Agden?”
Calm hands reached out to comfort trembling ones. His skin was many shades lighter than the old woman’s, with fewer creases. His hair was wavy and shimmering even brighter now that it had dried, long strands that looked thin minutes prior were puffed and tapered at his shoulders. A smaller crooked nose left more room to focus on his sanguine smile. The protection he often wore did what it could, but his bare face was stained from the elements, marks that were only noticeable in the light. Permanent windswept patterns were concentrated at his nose and blew back to his ears. Despite all of this, Agden was a handsome man, worthy of the beauty of Eres’ late mother. His streaks represented trials, wonder, experience… and his broken nose spoke to conflict. But his spirit was still intact and his beliefs, ironclad.
“Do you see my esper, Lorfa? My sufias.” His eyes glanced at the dark wooden-like ring that shined amber from its sigil. “Three Dawns reside among the generations that brought this connection far down the line of time. They were noble beings. All of them. Eres will be that too.”
She clenched her fists and pulled them back, with her esper now pulsing pink. “Don’t tell me what I already know,” she spat. “Eres is already great. This isn’t what causes me worry. It’s what’s out there.” She looked to the window near the door.
Eres jerked back at the last second, his heart hammering in his chest, both from almost getting caught and all of the mysteries that he was absorbing to try and decipher later.
Ooma’s eyes squinted like she’d seen movement, but just attributed it to the white flashes of the storm. “Ve will become jaded when ve realizes what the world thinks of vis kind.”
“It’s an Umboro’s trials that defines them. Greatness does not exist without struggle. I said it once and I’ll say it again, Lorfa. Eres is strong. He will endure.”
She scoffed. “There you go again. You know… vis skin is smooth, features more delicate than harsh, hair silkier than vis mota’s ever was.”
“But still holds the frame of a boy,” he interjected and waited for her response.
She inhaled slowly, then exhaled. “Yes.”
“Then you know it will be easier to pass him off as what we originally decided.”
“Ve has the right to choose!”
“And what does a child know about what awaits? What if he was to choose to reject all of this? Search your esper, Lorfa. What would Miyannas want? To have him guided by his elders, or chastised by his own ignorant hand?
“I promise, he will choose when the time is right, whether to stay hidden or stand firm, but right now he needs to blend, to interact with his own age, to belong. Only then can he decide.”
“Your words echo mine when I was able to hold Eres in my arms, but now that the time has come… it’s difficult to let go,” Lorfa admitted.
Agden clenched his jaw. “Because of you, he will be ready. Besides, I have an eye at Kor Vinsánce to watch over him. Crelomas o Skrols a tos secres nevorn dune.” He recited the old saying of his people to comfort her: ‘The ancient way of the Skrols and their secrets will never die,’ for which there was only one reply.
“Ashen da.” She bowed.
Chapter 2
Gifts from a Skrol
Eres snuck back onto his chair and sank deep into it. For hours he sat there, slumped, feet dangling and bottom nearly sliding off the edge. The exchange between his ooma and father had sucked out all of his energy.
I’m going to choose what to be? Ooma scolds my fata for calling me a boy… what does that even mean? Skrols are still being murdered. That was happening the last time too. Is he in danger? Who the heck is Seren Night? They should be talking to me – I want to help!
His thoughts shut off again upon hearing the sound of heavy boots clacking against the floor. The footsteps were slow so as not to startle, but when Eres peeked from the nook of his chair, a connection shot butterflies into his stomach. He longed for this attention, dreamt and hoped to be visited for months unending. But now that it was happening, that his father’s bright grey eyes chose him to examine, he was angry. How could someone who claims to love him just disappear for most of his life and come back like everything is supposed to be okay? Ooma explained that it was necessary, that it was for their protection, but Eres didn’t buy it. He wasn’t sold anything, after all. Always kept in the dark.
The swirl of emotion culminated in his belly like the storm outside, causing him to clench his teeth with anxiety. That’s when his father’s feet planted a step away. The clothing under the travel suit that he’d arrived in was different than Eres was used to. His pants were dark with a stripe of conflicting texture snaking up each leg - surely a gift from the Dagos based on what he’d read. The wrapping around his torso was more like a long scarf than a shirt, spun from neck to belt and pulled tighter as it traced down his arms. It looked comfortable, something he imagined a warrior would wear after battle. A Swul piece. But it was his ring that stole the attention. Dark, nearly black wood pulsed sporadically with an amber shine. It was opposite of his ooma’s: one obscure and ominous, the other bright and welcoming. His smell was faint, familiar, pleasant - that of the forest, as if he’d been laying in a bed of grass.
As Eres’ loathing inspection came to a close, Agden’s eyebrows scrunched, his smile serene, as though he was meeting his son for the first time. It was as disarming now as it was the last five visits that Eres remembered.
&n
bsp; Through a shaky breath, Eres finally broke the silence.
“Fata… what am I?”
Agden crouched to be eye-level with his kin. A long pause allowed him to soak in this moment. “You… are the best thing that the Umboro have to offer. And at long last, the world will see it.” He grasped Eres’ smooth calf with a calloused hand.
“What do you mea-”
“Your ooma will fill you in on all of that, Eres, okay?” Agden interrupted, glancing outside and noticing the storm beginning to calm.
Eres’ eyes followed, keen to what was happening. “You’re leaving already, aren’t you? You have to disappear with the clouds.” His whole body seemed to slump again at the realization.
Agden pursed his lips, tempted to ignore his own rules to steal more of these moments, but he couldn’t… he had to resolve himself to his purpose. And so he instead pressed his thumb over one of the T-shaped scars running under Eres’ eyes, watching quietly as the dull green swirled with brown at his touch.
“It pains me that you had to be kept in the dark, my son. But my hope is that one day you’ll understand my duties – what it means to be a Skrol, what it means to be boundless.”
“I want to be those things! Teach me, please. I can be like you. I swear I’ll never give up.” He perked up to make his case.
Agden looked amused. “I’d love nothing more for you to be a Skrol, but you never want to be boundless. You hear?”
Eres blinked hard before inspecting his father. “Is that why your face has those streaks?”
“Oh yes,” he assured.
“Did you get them trying to save my mota?”
Agden sighed and looked to the floor. Memories that he wasn’t ready for jumped to the front of his mind, and the shape of Eres’ face didn’t help to hide them. After a long inhale, he picked back up.
“I traveled to the ends of Ingora to find a cure, nearly exposed myself to the Factions out of desperation, but sometimes in the end, fate has its way despite our efforts.”
They both appeared glum.
“But sometimes,” his spirits rose, “it doesn’t. Sometimes we win. That’s how you will think when things get tough. Sie? You’re an Umboro. You are pride and humility wrapped in one. You are grace.” He grabbed the back of Eres’ head. “Let it carry you far.”
The child peered into his father’s eyes, which were looking for confirmation. “Yes, Fata. Sie.”
Clouds began to shrink as if they didn’t want the two to share any more time together. Colors of vibrant blue and purple began to fade, signaling that Agden’s small span was almost up.
Eres sat forward in his chair and grabbed onto his father’s arm with both hands. The unprovoked touch nearly brought tears to Agden’s eyes, but he held them back, to be strong. He had to end this rare exchange with his kin on a high-note. And so he swung around his bag and reached into it.
“You didn’t think I’d come empty handed, did you?”
Eyes ignited with excitement. Every question that he was prepared to ask was neutralized by the allure of foreign gifts. Stuff that he would never be able to produce in the forests. This was his holiday. Last time was the book and some small toys. This time – he had no idea. Being older surely meant something more profound. It had to.
Agden’s hand emerged with what appeared to be two scroll rods clamped together. He presented it to his son, then flipped it into his hands and pulled apart the two pieces. Lying in the middle was an ethereal digital print of the area around them. Little dots swayed slightly, grabbing Eres’ attention.
“Those are trees,” Agden coached, tracing his fingers along different sections. “These are open pathways. Be mindful of them, sie?”
Eres beamed with excitement again. It was a live map, a real traveler’s map. He had read all about them a hundred times, but to experience one before his eyes rendered him speechless and unable to acknowledge his father’s words; he was too ecstatic to do anything but beam.
Agden slid his fingers together on the transparent sheet, making the view zoom out more than the vicinity of their cabin, more than Ombes, until the Dolseir forest disappeared into a little dot, then tapped an area twice. A region that looked like an upside-down triangle highlighted and popped out, leaving the rest of the map with faded color behind the protruding section. Data rattled off:
Dricara – Swul territory
Training grounds known for turbulent weather and scattered treasure from fallen warriors
41% Greenland
22% Mountain
17% Water
14% Flatland
4% Beach
2% Island
“This device holds a world of knowledge. Study it. Know the realms of our people, the shapes of our lands… the dangers, the potential, for there will come a time when you see all of it.” He zoomed out further to the point where the planet itself was displayed. Two spherical orbs conjoined like a Venn diagram spun when he swiped a finger across to rotate the view. “Ingora is unique for its shape. Span across the cosmos and I think you’d pass a trillion planets before you found another one with two cores. One is fiery hot - it keeps us here, warm, alive. The other is cool, foreboding, the antithesis for life. I worry for the day that you touch down on the Verglas Sphere – one hundred feet of snow stretched in every direction into the horizon.” He made a face that feigned fear, but Eres’ eyes were lit with intrigue.
“Okay, okay, I could get lost forever telling you of our world, but now isn’t the time for that.” He winked and then held eye contact while gently slapping the two rods together to shut the map and placed it in Eres’ hands. “Now,” he looked from side to side and leaned in to exaggerate the secretive nature of what he was going to say, “what I’m about to give you, is not to be shared, sie?”
Eres nodded.
“I’m serious!” Agden whispered loudly, “Your ooma would have my head, and then who would come to visit you during the storms?”
The boy was off his seat like a perched cat spotting prey, watching as Agden dipped back to rummage through his bag. Forbidden fruits meant the world when living out days confined to a box. And when Agden’s hand emerged with a swirling contraption clasped in hand, it took everything in Eres’ power not to yank it.
The man held up a finger, silently commanding his son to calm down. “This,” he whispered, “is an impeller.” He waved it from side to side to show off its spiral design and glossy finish. “Eplons and their technology… they’re an intelligent people, there is no doubt. The device can create a wind tunnel within your radius and propel you forward. Its settings and requirements are complex, and we will run through them quickly, but you have to promise me three things first.”
Eres tried to grab at it, but Agden pulled it back. “Promise first!”
“I promise, Fata. Teach me!”
“Never, ever activate an impeller while pointing it up. An angle of over ten degrees is forbidden until you’re of age. Traveling through a tunnel of air is one of the most exhilarating experiences you will encounter in this life, but if used irresponsibly, you can break all of your bones, or worse.”
“How, why? Would it launch me straight into the air and make me fall?”
“Yes. Or if you don’t study your live map… straight into a tree, a building, people. Your path must be clear, Eres. Promise me, that you will use this gift with caution.
“I will.”
“Repeat the first rule so I know you understand.”
Eres took a breath and said, “Oru ral eh te nevorn focar tos sko.”
Agden paused, taken aback that his boy would speak the phrase in Umboro. He was proud of his keen son. The kin of a Skrol worthy of succession.
“Good. Second rule,” he clicked the impeller so the dial resting atop the swirling design, like the bezel of a watch, was pressed under a shortened tally, “you must start it with this setting. It will push you ten feet forward. Practice, practice, practice. It will not be easy at first, but it will be fun.”
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nbsp; Eres fought hard to hold back his enthusiasm.
“As you progress, you can dial up.” He pointed to the successive tallies that gradually grew in height. “Thirty feet, fifty feet, one hundred feet,” his finger slid and halted, “one thousand feet. This is where you stop, until you’re of age. The second rule you must acknowledge and accept, is that you will not, under any circumstances, go further than a thousand feet on a clear day, and nowhere at all on a cloudy one. Sie?”
“Sie, Fata, only after I master the first dials can I go the maximum of this dial. I will look ahead of me, then to my map to make sure, then ahead of me again before ever using it.”
“Good.” Agden checked from behind to be sure Lorfa wasn’t eavesdropping. “Lastly, this gift is yours, and yours alone. Do not share this knowledge with others on your travels. It’s dangerous for youth, but I trust you because you’re of my blood. Do not trust others… not with this. Sie?
“Sie.”
“If you’re anything like I was, you’ll have the greatest intentions, but be tempted all the same when my face is not inches from yours to warn you of these dangers. But I need you to look at me now, and burn this moment into your memory. Do not break rule number one. You will die if you do. Impellers are dangerous if used improperly. Life is short enough as it is Eres, don’t make it shorter. Don’t make me regret my decision.”
“Trust me Fata. I will practice when no one is watching, and I will take care.”
Squinted eyes and pursed lips gave Agden a playful air as he stared, judging quietly. “Okay then. Once you’ve taken all of the precautions and you’re ready to hop, click this lever.” He rotated his hand so the back of the contraption was showing, and rubbed the switch with his index finger. “You will hear a hum, the center will spin, and within one second a burst of air will propel you forward. So! Every time you’re ready to use it, at least in the beginning, I want you to clasp it behind your back with two hands holding it tight and your arms stiffened straight. Like this.” He demonstrated the proper positioning.
