by Marc Mulero
Just as she spoke the words, two fifty-feet tall shiders thumped down, spearing the low hanging clouds that Agden had summoned for protection, and landed vertically like two long missile shells crashing into the dirt.
“Eres,” Lorfa broke the embrace to look at him, “Agden and I have planned for this day for a long time, and dreaded that it would come too soon. But here we are - this is it. You are no longer allowed to be a child. It’s unfair, wrong, and before your time, but it is the truth.”
It took all of Lorfa’s energy to get back up, Eres silently helping her.
“Come. Help me over to Agden’s belongings, quickly. Stota pres, Eres.”
Footsteps were gaining on them. Louder, louder, moving ten times their speed.
“Can they track us?” Eres asked.
“No. It was always Agden that Seren Night was after. Whether this is his army, or Faction forces, we must not be seen. Come!”
The two rustled away from the trail, back into the Dolseir forest, beside tall trees and under the misty guise of Agden’s low-hanging clouds. Orders were being shouted in the distance, military personnel looking for someone – either Eres or Agden.
Eres slid on his knees once he saw his father’s bag, grabbed it, and lifted it for his approaching Ooma. Both of them ducked their heads upon the crash of a third Shrider just twenty feet away from their location. They cocked their heads to see massive levers fold down from the otherwise sleek cylinder. Soldiers swung down seconds later, into Dolseir. Eres tried to make out their colors to gauge their allegiance, but it was too dark to tell.
Lorfa hurriedly swung one arm around her grandson and waved the other overhead like she was tracing a rainbow. Tree roots swirled around their circumference, rising high to conceal them.
Eres had never seen his ooma use Reach before. Her motions were fluid, nonaggressive, and effective. This was very different from what he’d witnessed from Crow and Wudon, causing for more envy on the other side of the spectrum.
“I imagine that you will look upon my lessons in a different light now.” She smiled as they both rested their backs within the hollow tree.
“Can’t they hear us?” he asked.
“Too much noise out there, by your fata’s doing.” She rummaged through his bag, then pulled a round orb from it. “His octor is untethered – we can receive broadcasts from it. Maybe some information.”
Eres gazed over to his ooma with a grateful look. “You came for me, Ooma. Somehow you knew.”
Lorfa sighed. “In truth, something pinged within my sufias. Something terrible. Umus tou. Then when I retreated from Gushda, Rudo was quaking at my feet. I realized I had to come find you, that something was amiss. I’m just glad I had.” She leaned over, grabbed his hand tightly and patted it twice. “The loss of Agden is an awful blow to us all, most of all you, but we are not lost.”
Eres sniffed hard and turned away, blinking tears from his eyes. “I saw him,” he raised his hand to show his ring, “in this.”
Lorfa chuckled sadly. “Of course, you did. What? You didn’t actually believe he traveled all this time without thinking of his only child. Oh, no. He loved you, Eres. Dearly.”
The light from Agden’s octor illuminating their faces changed from blue to burgundy, stealing their attention. It was the Imperion Chamber, with Lasarius’ face – the most poised speaker of the five - at the center. He appeared stern, gloved hands clenched on the mahogany desk before him. A sharp presentable suit jacket was open to show three pristine sashes hanging underneath.
“Factions of Ingora,” he began. “Today, the unthinkable has occurred. A despicable act that will mark our regression, setting us decades back in time, to a less civilized era that we’ve all been working so hard to put behind us. At approximately suns’ sev this morning, one of our beloved Kors suffered an attack. Vinsánce was invaded, and its defilers are still at large.
“Reports indicate that through the usage of guns, a rebel insurgence caused forty-one casualties and seventy plus injured by their hand, most of whom were just young children. This despicable act will not go unpunished. Justice for our united front of peace will be served. Faction rangers have been dispatched to protect this sanctuary until further notice.”
Eres and Lorfa were pulled away from Lasarius’ stern face by the rumble of footsteps right outside of their tree. He went to cover the octor’s noise, but Lorfa extended a hand for him to stop.
“Trust me, they cannot hear us. We just have to wait them out. Unless they plan on cutting down every tree in Dolseir, they won’t find us.”
Eres smirked and hunched to watch closely.
Lasarius continued his speech, “We have come to understand that a single proctor was captured; his name shall be restricted until the investigation is complete. The Imperions, myself included, take responsibility for relying on the good heartedness of ulmanity, when some of us do not share our vision. Safeguards will be put in place to prevent this from happening again. Rest assured, deliberations will be held to keep our children safe.”
Eres raised his eyes to Lorfa. “They know that it was Kovella’s Quittance who did it, and that Proctor Wudon is in their custody.”
“Then the Silent War is in the open, a line we prayed both sides would never cross,” Lorfa added before lowering her voice, “and now you’re in the middle of it.”
Eres puffed his thin chest. “I’m ready, Ooma, to play my part.”
Ooma scoffed. “Sa slou, Eres. Whether you are or aren’t… it’s a shame that you must play. Tell me, what do you think your fata has been doing all of these years?”
Eres thought deeply, using the best part of him to decipher this question.
If I have a part in this, then what was his? Forever traveling to some distant lands? I always thought being boundless meant being on the run – and that must have been true since Seren was after his esper. But he had friends everywhere… that’s how he brought me belongings from around the sphere. He wasn’t just running, he was gathering not just things, but allies.
“Was he rallying forces to our side of the war?”
“Not just rallying, Eres, leading.”
Eres felt a pang of guilt, for the trust that his father had instilled in him. His shoulders suddenly felt heavy from the mounting pressure of it all.
“For generations, the Skrols have operated largely independently but for sparse meetings to uphold inductions and inheritances. All different walks of life bore espers, strung together only by their vow to uphold the legacy of the Skrols – to protect their secret. But tell me, Eres. What happens when organized forces come against lone soldiers? Even if they are one-person-armies, can they really match the will of a collective?”
Eres stayed quiet, knowing that he didn’t possess the experience required to contribute.
“Your fata didn’t think so – so he acted.”
“Just to sacrifice himself…? For what?” he blurted.
Lorfa leaned forward and grasped both of Eres’ hands, fists trembling. “To be a ghost,” she whispered loudly. “No one will know. No one can know. Stota pres.”
“Bu-” Eres tried to interject.
“Seren will chase Agden to the ends of Ingora to have his esper, but he will never find him, because he is dust. They will never find you either, because you are masked.”
Eres touched his face, remembering what he was.
“Not there.” She shook her finger and pointed down. “There. Now we conceal your sufias, and send you on your next journey.”
“But Ooma, what about you? I can’t leave you to dwell in my mota’s sufias.” Eres’ face was ridden with concern.
Lorfa let out a hearty chuckle. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ve lived, Eres. Now it’s time that you live. Dela?”
“Only if you buy an oobs so we can communicate,” he reasoned.
“Mustae. Have you gone mad? That’s the quickest way to get caught. The Factions can tap the underground… do you want to drag them further into this fight?
It will be named the Loudest War by the time you’re done here.”
The jest did not go over well. The thought of Joodah’s deceptive face, his methods, niceties, how he led the naïve Umboro straight into the enemy’s grip, plagued him.
Ooma whacked him with her cane. “A joke! To lighten our burdens!”
“It was my fault though, Ooma. I led an Eplon straight into Wudon’s lair.”
She gasped before catching herself.
“I’m the reason that all of those people died, why Wudon’s gone, my fata…” He lowered his head in shame.
“The reason that all of that happened, is the will of our enemies. You pulled no trigger and swung no knife in the name of war. A harsh lesson learned, that will leave you more prepared than you began. It is time now to rest, swallow the harshness of today, so we can begin anew tomorrow.”
Eres sighed. “Where do we go from here?”
“A rogue shider will be picking you up at suns rise. The Factions will be looking for a Dawn masking vimself as a boy, so we will wipe away your mask, and drop you in Elesion with the other Dawns, until this whole thing blows over.”
“Isn’t that just handing me over?” Eres protested.
“It’s not in Elesion that the Faction pays its attention, it’s in the lands in which a Dawn shouldn’t be. We will hide you in plain sight, until your next mission begins.”
“Why is everything so cryptic? I don’t want to be a simple mule for this esper. I want to find Wudon, avenge my fata for having to die like this… what is my mission?”
Lorfa lifted his chin with the hook of her cane. “To become a Skrol.”
Part II
The Silent War
Chapter 16
Elesion and its Mood
That grim night five years ago, the one following Kor’s invasion, when Eres’ father sacrificed himself in the name of the skrols… the night Agden’s esper became his, when his ooma left their shack to find him against the will of her ailing body… it all replayed in Eres’ head like a vivid nightmare.
He recalled Lorfa’s graceful use of Reach to conceal them as they’d reclaimed his belongings left behind and used the cover of Dolseir to return home. In the few hours they had remaining together, she explained what she could: the depth of Agden’s achievements, how to apply a Dagos mask, the way things would play out next. If only he really understood the gravity of it all – how long Ingora years would drag when waiting for something to happen… anything. Well, he finally got the message. If not for the esper that had been bestowed upon him, and the extensive library that Lorfa had promised would be there, the bland methods reserved for teaching sexless barrens would have drained his life force from him until he was the purposeless mule that society expected him to be.
It was true - the Factions cared deeply about finding any rogue Dawns and keeping them far away from the rest of society; the Factions didn’t seem to care much about the Dawns as long as they were where they should be, in Elesion. Thousands of genderless beings with their own unique marks stashed away into a giant campus minutes from the sky. Eres remembered seeing it from above when he arrived by shider those years ago. The sight of hundreds of spears encircling their sky-high campus, of scented trees far below guiding pathways to each spire, and the rocky caverns where he spent most of his time. It was a spikey bird’s nest made of gradient rock on the top of a mountain. Eres preferred to think of it as a blockade of spearmen lined in a circle, frozen in time, and then realized that he may have been spending too much of his days within his esper, studying the wars of old. It was a good distraction, though, for there wasn’t an idle minute where Windel hadn’t shown up in his mind’s eye. He was always drifting to the life he once had before Joodah stabbed him in the back. The reel of guilt and longing was always in the same order – first the smile of his love, who sat under the dwarf tree beside him, her dimple melting his heart as she casually tucked some loose hair behind her ear. Then his ooma, also sitting on the floor, cross-legged the best she could, cane resting on her lap and pink esper aglow. How was she holding up? Divulged in memories of his mother, no doubt. And finally, the guilt of his father, the one who thought him worthy enough to die for. It was a vicious cycle. He couldn’t help but think that both himself and his ooma were just two drug addicts, hooked on the past lives of his parents. He, with his father, and she, with his mother. There was a connection there, somewhere, one that drove him to the grand library of Elesion many times over.
Could the esper wielders cross paths within Gushda, or were they created to prevent just that? Agden was a grandmaster of Reach. He would’ve known for sure, but all the lessons Eres had stumbled across over the years within his esper never strayed from the Skrols’ true purpose – “Harbor your share of the secret,” Agden would preach, “and take in the wisdom of the generations before you, and stick to the cause. Any alliance created or upheld must be in the same name, otherwise we risk everything falling into Seren’s hands…”
Eres was a curious individual, though. Thoughtful in his nature and willing to push the limits of knowledge, he was meant to explore this gift. However, the limit was clear, for if he lost Agden’s esper, his father’s death would’ve been in vain, and that just couldn’t be.
He rubbed the concealed esper on his ring finger, still intrigued by how well it blended as part of his skin with Dagos tools, and then stood within his quarters. The place was large, mostly empty but for bare essentials. Walls were smooth and concave like a molded cavern made of rock, one of so many in Elesion. When new Dawns arrived, they simply claimed an abandoned one, etched their name into a wooden door and changed the lock. It took longer than Eres would’ve liked to have figured that out. In Kor Vinsánce, he would’ve been worried that someone like Crow or Nuganzia would’ve barged in to teach him a lesson, or something, but in Elesion, it was like everyone had been robbed of their purpose. Brainwashed, or maybe just mentally beaten. Eres wasn’t though. He knew he was getting out, or at least that’s what he was told.
Elesion wasn’t all bad of course. It was just by comparison to Vinsánce that everything seemed worse off, less hurried, uninspired. The tone was infuriating, and Eres couldn’t believe that he would ever miss the harshness of Crow. But he did, if for no other reason than to confirm that Eres was on the other side of his anger. Measured, thoughtful, ready to defend rather than attack. Here, however, he felt no need for the fire inside him. He would grow lethargic if not for the hope of one day being elsewhere.
“Get up,” he told himself, staring straight into a natural looking glass and taking a moment to register how much he’d changed.
Seeing oneself day in and day out made it hard to recognize his transformation, but five years did much for the growing Dawn. His legs were longer, even leaner, still blurring the line between masculine and feminine. His features remained delicate, behind which was flowing hair that hadn’t lost its shine. Not an ounce of awkwardness plagued his development. There was no puberty, after all. No raging hormones seeking balance, or discovery of anything sexual, no distractions from finding his path. The only thing holding him back was society, because of those T marks on his cheeks. They’d been out in the open for so long now that the short span of cover up in Kor Vinsánce felt like it never happened.
Eres sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and turned to exit his cave. The jacket he donned matched his amber eyes. It was light, form-fitting, and gifted by the only other Dawn in these parts that seemed to have any energy at all – his friend Ohndee. That’s where he would go, as he often did, to meet her at the high Spire of Otensrel, meaning “activity” in Universal.
The brisk air on the outskirts of Eres’ cavern pinched his face, the smell of citrus marking the flavored trees lining the trail. Leaves fell in perpetuity, growing and loosing endlessly before they were scooped up by the tree’s roots and recycled. In another world, it would’ve looked like nature was played in fast-forward, but in Ingora this was the way of things, especially this high, where the
air was thin. Hands in pockets and eyes to the sky, Eres peered up to the angled spikes of Elesion piercing a great ring of cloudy mist.
He nodded to a few older Dawns who were raking leaves from a neatly paved road, and kept onward, noting the aromatic shift along the way. The first quarter mile from his quarters held a consistent scent of ripe fruit - uplifting, hopeful – followed by the switch to potent lavender. Everything here was characterized by smell as much as by design, and this shift immediately made him think of the tall building to his right: The Spire of Iqueth, or “learning” in Universal.
A deep breath relaxed him as he peered toward the building. It was something of an uninspired Kor. No, that was too kind. Comparing a teacher in Iqueth to a proctor in Kor would be sacrilege. There was no contest.
Eres scoffed at the thought. How could he be expected to spend the majority of his days there, after experiencing the richness of Proctor Ren, or Vasa? They call that a class?
Of course he didn’t comply, though. He couldn’t. One of the advantages of not being cared for was the freedom that came with it. Whether it was Ohndee’s influence, his own, or a combination of the two, most time spent was away from the masses.
After a half-mile of strolling, the scent pleasing his nose faded from lavender to something that resembled cinnamon, only spicier. The Spire of Otensrel was close. Trees grew thinner on the long runway, until the view became unobstructed to reveal a Swul-inspired tower with chaotic extensions curving intricately on either side of its base. His gaze was drawn high to the shining clock tower at its peak. Vibrant prisms reflected the suns’ light, sparking different colored reflections marking every hour of the day.
He pushed open an enormous door, looked past the Dawns leisurely ambling beyond him, and stopped his gaze on the female-looking Dawn whose grey eyes still had the fire of life in them.
Ohndee winked and motioned with her head for Eres to follow her. Her pixie cut hair shook with the bounce in her step, little beads weaved into strands here and there marking the old Swul heritage she had left behind.
