by Marc Mulero
“Okay. Can we try it now?” Eres pleaded.
“Indoors? Are you mad?”
Eres blew out air from his nose like he’d been shown the best toy a kid could possibly dream of, but was told he’d have to wait to use it.
“Have you ever hit your head or stubbed your toe?” As the words left Agden’s mouth, he felt a terrible pang of guilt that washed across his face.
Eres’ face drooped sadly as he experienced a similar bout of gloom. “Isn’t that something a fata should know?”
Agden’s heart wrenched harder when he looked to see the winds dissipating further and bursts of rain arching to the floor like loosed arrows as opposed to gunshots against the windows. A hose with its water being cutoff. “The life I chose is hard, Eres… for the both of us. It breaks me that I am boundless, that I lost Miyannas, your mota. That my duty as a Skrol in times like these takes all of my efforts. My burden is heavy, and your life will be hard. One day though, I know you will understand, and I hope with that, comes forgiveness.” He gently held Eres’ shoulders and pressed forehead to forehead.
He shook away his sorrow and knelt back so the dawning light came between them. “I want you to remember the pain of hitting your head, then imagine it hurting tenfold and not going away. That’s what would happen if you triggered your impeller indoors.”
“Okay.” His voice was a strained whisper.
Agden thrust the gadget into his son’s hand and said, “Ooma cannot know. I trust you have a good spot to hide it?”
He grinned and nodded again.
“Good.” Agden approved before rising to his feet and turning to the window.
“Does it ever run out?” Eres asked meekly.
“No. Just carry it with you as you move, it will store the air it needs in the same fashion as a fliser would culminate water,” Agden replied without making contact, eyes glued to the window.
“I see now that time lapsed cannot be bought back by gifts, even for a child. This one is too smart,” he said with pride. “And the same goes for burying my guilt. It’s no use, it will always be there. But I would be a bigger fool than any to be consumed by such matters now, when you’re here in front of me.” He finally turned back.
“Tell me, did you enjoy your book? That Illiad is a sumas deh… a badass, no?”
Eres felt alive again. “Yes! He goes everywhere, Fata. Visiting the All-Mother in Dolseir, warning the Swuls not to attack him, but they did anyway, and he knocked them down. Marrying a nice Dagos even though his family couldn’t understand. He is a sumas deh! Like you!”
A peaceful smile overcame Agden. The last one. Because the low-formed clouds were curling up like cooked egg whites. “Our spell is up, Eres. But before I go, I know there is something that will be very useful in the next chapter of your life. Something you’ve read all about.” He gazed at his son softly while producing an orb from his bag.
“An… octor?” He was stunned. “But, what would I be able to do with that? I’m stuck on this couch, and can’t even go past the trees over there.”
“That all ends now, Eres. Your ooma will tell you everything. It’s time.” Agden extended his hand and motioned for his son to take the item.
While Eres held the large orb in cupped hands, his father touched the top of it with two fingers, and out came two stripes that stuck to his skin.
“You know what these are, I take it?” his voice became low, sadness seeping from it. His eyes savored these last morsels of connection with his son who was growing up way too fast.
“Thesils. They go here.” Eres pointed to his temples eagerly.
“Right.” Agden gently pressed both fingers to Eres’ head and let the stripes melt into his skin. “A concoction of all Factions: Umboro, Dagos, Eplon, Swul, all people played a part in making this travel log. It will record everything privately. Only you can access it with your touch now that the thesils are strapped to you. Whatever you see, it sees. Edit, erase, cut, copy. Anything that you find interesting or worth storing will be held there.”
“I know, Fata. Illiad said that these can make you lazy, though.”
“Any tool can make you lazy if you let it. Didn’t work on him now, did it?”
“No way!”
“Then use it as he learned to, as a privilege, a reward for a hard day’s work. Not a crutch.”
Eres gazed at the glossy sphere until his eyes were tugged away again to his father. The contraption that he first saw when Agden stepped into the cabin was out again, and was held to his chest. Eres’ heart felt like it dropped into the pit of his stomach and then lurched every which way. He knew what it meant, that he wouldn’t see him again for a very long time.
Agden kissed his son’s forehead gently and stood straight, swiping the surface of his device counterclockwise to activate a hundred black straps that crawled from its center, wrapping his body like a mummy, until the lines melted into one another to make one cohesive bodysuit. His back straightened again, posture that of a warrior’s. Now that his armor was skin tight, it was obvious the anxiety that he felt. Chest rising and falling.
“Remember, you are the best thing the Umboro have to offer. Shine, Eres. Be great.” Agden’s voice trembled as if these were his last words to ever be spoken.
Eres’ thoughts began to race.
Is Fata leaving all of the hard questions for Ooma? He won’t answer mine. Is he afraid… to see me cry? It hurts me to see him go, maybe it hurts him to see me sad. Maybe that’s why no one tells me anything.
Before Agden turned to depart, Eres latched onto his arm. The touch froze him in place. Genuine. Innocent. And then Eres rose from his seat to hug his father.
“I’ll miss you.”
Urgency fled from Agden’s bones like a spell so intoxicating that it robbed him of his wit. The retracting colorful mists disappeared from his sight. All he could see was a son who was thankful that his father had returned but understood that he had to go, even without knowing why.
A gentle arm held Eres’ silk covered head against his chest, and a strong sniffle surely meant to hold back tears shook his small frame. Agden said nothing in return, just rubbed his back lovingly before turning abruptly to be off. He slung his bag securely around his back and bolted for the door.
The child was left crestfallen to watch his only parent go, not knowing when, if ever, they would meet again.
The elements outside that had made a parade of color and mist just hours ago was fading quicker now. Agden looked as if he were running to catch the tail cart of a train, chasing the curling cloud. With a flashy motion, he spun and leapt into the air. A hum reached Eres’ ears, from what he assumed was his father’s impeller. Then the sound grew into a loud pulse of white noise. A funnel of wind syphoned around the man, angled toward the sky, far higher than the ten-degree limit that was preached. Off he went, thrust into the dying storm.
Chapter 3
Ooma’s Promise
Awaking with a jolt, Eres jumped from his bed grasping for something in front of him that was no longer there. His pupils darted back and forth to comprehend whether he’d been dreaming. Agden’s face was so clear in his mind’s eye just a second ago, but now that reality was encumbering his vision, it became distorted, fading from his sight like he was underwater. Did his father really visit the night prior, or was this just a terrible trick of his mind? It all felt so real though. He could remember holding gifts, the heat emanating from his father’s skin, the earthy smell, his expression.
He threw the covers off of him and scrambled into his closet – memories slowly returning. Clothes flew behind as he rummaged to the bottom of his belongings, to a box that he’d stowed away. His heart sank upon realizing it was in the same exact spot that it’d been months ago. Hesitation overcame him, his fingers quivering. He didn’t want the hope to disappear. With all of his heart, he wanted this to be real. It would be too crushing if only the toys gifted as a child sat in there and not the tools needed to become an adult, for just a night ago
he was destined to be an adventurer like his father before him. Maybe one day even a Skrol – whatever that meant.
“Please be in there, please be real, please…” he whispered to himself.
With breath caught in his chest, he swung the dial to unlock it, and when it clicked, he pried open the front to make way for a sphere that came rolling into his knee. It stopped with a clunk, triggering a long sigh of relief. His octor… it was true - Agden had come the night before. Everything they’d shared really happened. And then a final recollection breathed life into his sleep-filled eyes – his impeller. He stood and reached high on the balls of his feet, carefully digging through and unravelling more sweaters, until he found the dark red one that he’d remembered wrapping it in. The cloth seemed heavier than normal, with a metal knob that could be felt under soft fabric. He hugged it to his chest and sighed again before remembering Agden’s words.
Ooma can never know about this one.
He pulled on a flowy set of pants under his long night robe and switched out his top for something more suitable for outdoors. Both fists then clapped an old pair of durable boots together – hand-me-downs from one of his parents, for sure - and stuffed them onto his growing feet. This would’ve been the second day in a row Eres woke hopeful. First was the storm and the possibilities that came with it, and after not being let down, he was reinvigorated to learn of the world. Answers were coming, as promised.
His slender hand carefully tucked the impeller behind into the seam of his pants and then grabbed the live map before he rustled toward the stairs. Steps were creaking again; his home was breathing.
Ooma must be up already. She loosened the shinnons, which means the storm has passed. If the air is clear, I can get some practice in now. But I have to be careful not to be seen or heard, so that I can become the best explorer around by the time my fata returns. I will be. He’ll see.
Rounding the corner to find the front door, his eyes were tugged down to the floor and his eager legs stopped short at the sight of Lorfa sitting cross-legged, hands rested over knees, with a comforting smile etched onto her face. Her esper was aglow. It was bright, overcoming the dark space in between windows that were letting in blades of light. She was somewhere better than this shack mentally, it was obvious, and was something Eres understood very well, for all of his daydreams were the same.
He wanted to sneak past, to get outside and hop like his father had with a ball of wind at his back. It looked so cool, and he’d already dreamt of doing it the whole night. All that was left was to try it in the real.
“Eres,” Ooma spoke, her ring slowly losing its glow as she returned from thought.
He felt for his hidden gift to make sure it was still there before she opened her eyes. Never having to hide something before made him realize that he wasn’t very good at it. His skin was becoming slick with sweat, teeth scratching against his bottom lip, but surely Lorfa was considering this to be a result of something else…
“Your fata, although he had to depart, loves you very much.”
“I… I know…”
“You must understand that he is tasked with the impossible – to guard a secret so ancient that it dates back to the beginning of time. He is special, Eres, like you, and so he must do what he can to fend off those that seek to dismantle what the Skrols were created to protect.”
Eres was speechless. It was as if he’d woken up and years had passed, for just yesterday he was being lectured on the inner workings of his home, and now being bestowed knowledge of the Skrols. Adult matters. Finally.
“I promised you something yesterday, that it was time for me to finally answer your questions that I’ve been avoiding. It was only because of my love did I shield you from all of this as long as I could. Everyone deserves a stint of innocence.” She looked to the floor and slowly began to rise, reaching for her cane to find support.
Eres took a step over and grasped her other arm to hoist her up. “I know, Ooma. But I’m ready. I want to help.”
A pacifying grin rested under an inky gaze. “That time may come sooner than you think. Your fata returned with essential contents to your future, and I’m not speaking of what he brought you.”
“Ooma, what did he bring? What am I?”
She held up a finger for him to hold off. “We will get there, but first, we take a trip into Dolseir, and on the way, we relieve your anxious mind of all of its wonder, in a rightful order. Dela?”
“Sie.”
“Good. Come.” She patted his back, giving him a look up and down to see that he was already dressed and ready to go. “Since I can remember, you’d beg for answers about the ring that I wear - my sufias, my esper.”
Eres’ eyes glinted as he held his breath. He had been asking about it since what felt like was the beginning of time, and received not so much as an inkling of what it was. The only thing known was it was something invaluable, positive, for whenever he’d seen it shine, his ooma was happy.
“Well, the truth is… that my esper is shallow compared to your father’s. But,” tears began to well up in her eyes, making them as shiny as glass, “it remains the most beautiful gift ever bequeathed.”
“From him?”
“No, little one.” She sniffed in to hold the tears from breaking. “From my daughter… your mother, Miyannas.”
“I don’t understand, Ooma.”
She pulled the front door shut behind them and took her first steps onto the muddy ground. Blades of grass were pressed to one side or another from the storm’s winds like morning bed hair. The scrunch of their boots filled the open space between them as Lorfa took the moment of silence needed to regather herself.
“Where to begin…” She swiped her cane to rid it of gunk and extended her hand back, wriggling her fingers for Eres to grab. “You know of our beliefs, of the All-Mother, her existence in a realm that we cannot see or touch.”
He grabbed on to help her balance. “Yeah, I know,” his voice dropped an octave, not even trying to hide that he didn’t share the credence.
“Heh, you think your ooma an old sage, but your fata is a great believer as well.”
Eres squinted in scrutiny at the back of Lorfa’s hunched head.
I doubt that.
“The entirety of the Skrols is founded on an Umboro concept. Do not mock it until you fully understand, unless of course you just want to be an Eplon – bound to Rudo, existence of the senses only.”
Eres huffed. He looked up to the naked trees that had been full just a day prior. The tempest shook them clean and out of place – but the beauty of nature in this world was its speed. Leaves bloomed before their eyes – as buds at first, but within minutes, vibrant multihued colors sprouted above their heads. Sideways trees began to re-root and straighten to give the illusion that they were in control of their form. It was a good distraction from what he thought was nonsense – it seemed, yet again, that he’d have to wait for some real information.
“Gushda, the Eternal World - that is where true enlightenment lies. We are gifted intelligence through it, the mind, our soul, wrapped in this vessel from beyond what we can see or touch. You must understand both Gushda and Rudo if you’re ever to find answers, if you’re ever to grasp what your father is, what I am, what you are… what my esper is.”
“I know, Ooma. You tell me about this stuff all the time.” His mind started to drift back to the gifts his father had given him, yearning to learn and to use them instead of listen to yet another speech.
“You hear the words, but do not listen.” She snapped her tongue. “I will say it again: Memory is pulled from Gushda, and as temporary vessels in Rudo, we make our feeble attempts to grasp onto something permanent by accessing them. We reach for our memories that are etched into the span of time, then sometimes we alter and concoct our own versions of them unbeknownst to ourselves. It is very complex, but we must strive to live in the All-Mother’s image, Eres. She sees Rudo too, and she records it for us in the Eternal. Through the math I try t
o teach, the language that we speak, the history, our studies… that is how we find the meaning of all life. Through grace. Living in Mustae’s image. We work to understand Rudo as she does. We must practice so that our connection to the Eternal grows.”
She banged her cane into the ground so it would stand straight and rested two wrists over its top, wrinkly hands dangling as she inspected her grandchild. “But we are flawed, Eres, we can’t see like she sees, nor can we remember like she does. That’s why, once in a moon, we are blessed with someone that can connect with her, like the first of us did.” Her hand turned to display her esper. “Your father, Agden Way, is that blessing. He is a Seer, and can band memories to this,” she balled her fist, “with the help of our Mother.”
Eres was perplexed.
“Everything that your mother experienced – her thoughts, her feelings, instances in her life, the All-Mother’s projection of her, it’s all in here.” She tapped the esper and ran a finger over supple vined roots that attached to her skin. “Though she passed too soon, I can still see her. So to me, she will always live on – beautiful and bright.”
Eres’ mind went blank for a long second, before memories of his ooma crying and laughing while the ring pulsed made so much more sense. “But h-how?”
“Your fata created it for her long ago, when he first completed his Skrol Trials. And before she passed, bequeathed it to me. I begged her, Eres, to leave it for Agden, her husband, so he can rightfully enjoy her memory. But she knew I needed it more – for a parent to bury her child…” Ooma wept silently for a moment and then breathed in heavily. “I’m sorry.”
Eres walked in and held his ooma tight. “It’s okay. I miss her too.”
She pulled back and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “You may not act like Miyannas, little one, but you have so much of her about you.”
“Can… I see her again? Just for a minute?” His eyes gravitated to the wood-like substance wrapped around her finger.
“Dear…” She paused and snatched the ring off of her finger, instantly making it colorless. “An esper can only be transferred after death. One day you will have this, bequeathed from me,” she stuffed the oversized band onto his finger to show that nothing would happen, “and it will contain both mine and your mother’s lineages. That is why you must understand Gushda before it’s too late. You must learn to believe.”
