by Marc Mulero
“We will use whatever clout we have together.” Vindom inserted himself between them all. “If this young Dawn has the brass to step out from the shadows, then we will find our own to be beside him. After all, what is an oath to the Alliance without sacrifice?”
Vindom huddled over the map. “It’s settled then. The coordinates, Alphonze.”
Chapter 39
Where It All Began
“You’re clear then, Eres?” Ren walked him to the large circular window within Vindom’s chamber.
“Crystal.”
“Let’s run it one more time.”
Eres sighed.
“For me, not for you,” Ren fibbed.
He rolled his eyes. “Vasa will reach out to Ilfrid now and instruct him to park his shider in Dolseir before morning. We depart at dawn, coordinates seven vector. Then we make way to the Gornay Shadows to intercept Spera, throw up our white flag – me – in a sign of peace, and hope for the best.”
“Good.” He laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“I never thought I would be chasing the tail of Seren Night.”
“I never truly believed I would become a Skrol.”
“Yet here we are.”
“Here we are.”
Ren sniffed, voice lowered. “We will do this, Eres. We will find Proctor Wudon and free him.”
Eres began to climb onto the ledge, looking out toward the vast forest where he’d spent most of his childhood. “You bet ya.”
And with that, Eres clicked his impeller and was off.
Wind smacked his face as he soared forward. His jaw relaxed as the endlessly shedding trees came closer. It felt like he was going back in time. He could smell it – his childhood – the murky air, hints of sap, nature, freshness. It was amazing how fast a scent could throw him back to another world.
He remembered the first day his father gifted him the impeller - the gift of flight itself. Well, not in the beginning. Stumbling over and over was part of the process: into the thorns on the wrong side of the forest, face first into the dirt, the whiplash from not positioning his body properly for the charge. His legs and neck ached at just the thought of it.
It was beautiful though, to be back home on a path traveled a hundred times. He fought Crow in these woods, brought Windel to meet his ooma, hid from the Factions. Once upon a time, his world, everything he knew, was confined to these few miles of road. And now he zipped through it like it was hardly a path at all.
The spheres had shrunk since then, hadn’t they? He’d seen so much, developed so much confidence, that the forest just didn’t have the same mysterious allure. He saw things differently now. Was that what it meant to be an adult?
“I miss those days.” Eres touched ground, taking a few steps to slow himself before lowering to one knee. “Do I even know how to appreciate the small stuff anymore?” He grabbed a handful of dirt. “I can, I think. If nearly starving in the Northern Grottos taught me anything, it’s to value these moments.”
He then looked to his left to see five sets of oversized round eyes staring back at him.
“Owins!” Eres squealed.
The chubby creatures were all huddled up next to one another, shivering in fear, wondering if the big uemon would remember them. Or maybe these were different ones? Either way, Eres made his way over to pet them but their little legs started backpedaling so fast that they tripped over one another, fumbling, scurrying to get away.
“No guys!” Eres protested, but they were surely off.
What did they sense? Had Eres really lost his innocence entirely?
“Hmph.” He scratched the back of his head. “Maybe it’s the Glite? Or maybe I’ve been away for so long that the forest doesn’t know me anymore.”
His frown deepened. “That would suck.”
Eres realized how critical Ramillion’s words were before sending him off to the Northern Grottos – “I want you to feel like you have a home to come back to…” Feel like.
Skrols have no home. They are wanderers set in every corner of the world, or at least they were until Seren got to them.
He positioned his impeller near the small of his back.
Click.
He soared high, his height nearly that of the treetops before sloping back down again.
“Ooma. My home is with her. That’s the way it’s always been. She’ll remind me what it feels like. She has to.”
Click.
After a few momentous hops, he’d finally reached the weather-resistant hut where he’d spent most of his childhood. Where he’d discovered he was a Dawn, opened gifts from his fata, learned valuable lessons from his ooma. Where he read incessantly, endlessly, in that chair of his.
“I wonder if it’s still there.” He walked closer to the hut. “Wait…” he slowed his pace when he saw that the shinnons were open – the weather-resistant blinds that protected the hut from Ombes’ storms. That was normal, sure, but the energy of the place was dead.
“What happe-” His eyes were wide with worry. “Ooma!? No… no.” He scrambled up the steps and burst into the hut. “No, Ilfrid would have told me, right? He wouldn’t betray me like that!”
“Ooma!” He shouted up toward the second floor. “Lorfa!” He tried her first name.
He scrambled around the main level. It looked unkempt, dusty, abandoned. “Please, no. Where is she?”
She was old, Eres. A voice inside his head whispered.
Just the thought evoked tears. He could feel them about to fall as an image of her grasping at her heart plagued him.
“No,” he said aloud, thinking of her already hunched back caving even more, her tightly wound bun bobbing as she crashed to the floor. He could see it all.
“Ooma!”
His vision was blurry. He tripped over a box and caught himself on the bannister, breathing heavily along the way.
“I know, she’s lost in her esper upstairs. That’s it.”
He scrambled up the steps three at a time. “Ooma!”
There was stuff everywhere. Toiletries sprawled out in the bathroom, all over the sink.
“Mustae...”
He spun to her bedroom to find more stuff all over the floor. He couldn’t tell whether the place had been ransacked or just abandoned. But there was one saving grace – there was no body.
His breathing started to calm a little bit.
“She’s just not here. That’s all. The others – Vasa, Ren, Decalas, someone would have said something if there was trouble. Think, Eres.”
He headed back downstairs, eyes drawn to his old chair. He was so frazzled before that he’d missed it entirely. But there it was – books piled up on either side like some sort of shrine, as if a shadow of his former self was still sitting there reading.
It made his heart skip a beat to see it again. He pictured it: just waking up, doing a few chores, then coming here to his tiny corner, where he would sit and read, and wait, thinking that maybe today was the day his father would come home again.
Eres narrowed his eyes. “The chair isn’t…” he stepped closer and wiped a finger over it, “it’s not dusty. Someone was here recently.”
Panic resumed. “Weird.”
He exited the hut quite a bit paler than when he entered, like his soul was being drained as he pondered the tragedy that could have occurred. His eyes were forward, yet unseeing, and there was lethargy to his pace.
“What if…” he mouthed, “Seren took her, to get to me.”
Another few absentminded paces sent him away from the trail and into the depths of the forest.
“No – there would be some sort of sign. He would leave a message. Of course he would.”
He looked to the ground, still moving about aimlessly, thinking, always thinking, until something drew him back to reality. A long blink cleared his vision. There was a pattern around a footprint right below him.
Eres gulped. “This used to happen sometimes when she would use Reach,” he knelt, “roots would form a
design around her print, just like this one.”
He stood up abruptly, taking a few hesitant steps to make sure he wasn’t making this up in his head. Nope. There, another one. And before he knew it, he was jogging, then running, then sprinting into the depths of the forest.
Breadcrumbs.
“Please be okay. Please. Mustae, please.”
Then he saw it, a pink hue, everything he needed to stop short in his tracks.
“Oh thank the All-Mother.” He exhaled hard with relief.
It wasn’t good that she still appeared heavily addicted to her esper, but she was there, Ooma, and that’s all that mattered to him in this moment. He’d forgotten entirely that dawn was approaching, that it wasn’t pitch black outside any longer.
Instead, he only sniffed in the thick incense that she would light before coming to this sacred ground – it brought him right back to her teachings, where he would listen for a few minutes, roll his eyes, and zone out. It made him laugh to think of the irony now – how he spent the majority of his time trying to understand everything he once ignored.
A few steps were taken to round her, quiet ones so as not to disturb. Oh, how badly he just wanted to dive and hug her. She was sitting cross-legged, slightly more hunched than Eres remembered all of those years ago, but just as knowing in her expression.
He made a serious face to mock hers, and then relaxed into a warm smile as he knelt to get a better look at her.
Oof. More lines of age traced her face, something he didn’t even think could be possible. But he knew what rested behind closed eyelids – those black inky pearls full of life.
She was peaceful. This was perfect, beautiful even.
Ooma is okay. Everything is okay. The world is still right.
He wondered what memory she was lost in. Likely a lovely one of his mota. It had to be. The thought warmed his heart, breathed life and color back into his skin, and with that, he adjusted his posture with ease.
His shadow must’ve triggered something, for the glow in Lorfa’s esper suddenly dimmed.
“Oh crap,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to disturb you, Ooma.”
She groaned lightly, and Eres could see her closed eyes rapidly turning left and right.
“Umos tou,” she spoke to herself. “All the curses. Send me back. Why am I here. Who would-”
Eres frowned, watching her like she was a cranky junkie robbed of her drugs.
“Oh Miyannas.” Lorfa sniffed. “Oh, my baby girl. I won’t leave you in there, just hold on oonasi gauz.”
His frown deepened. What had he done? This was her only solace, he realized, and he had just disturbed it.
“Ooma, it’s okay. I’m here.” Eres coded his Glite to retract. He didn’t want to scare her when she came to.
Whack.
“Ow!” Immediate regret. He started hopping up and down on one leg, holding the other, remembering the sting of her cane.
“Who is here? Where is here?” Her eyes opened, but she was still obviously half in a dream. “No, no, not here again. This is where everything dies. Umous tou. Umous tou! All things bad!”
Eres felt the blood drain from his face once more. He’d never seen her like this, could never imagine her out of control, in despair. Ooma was his rock, his beacon of strength.
His insides were twisting in knots, so he did what he’d wanted to since he first saw her - he hugged her tight.
“It’s okay, Ooma.”
“Miyannas! Where are you my girl, I can’t leave you.” She was crying through her pleas.
This was too much for Eres. He’d been through death, watched his father disintegrate on his own terms, but this... this was the final straw.
The very person who taught him all the little things in life, all of the important things… he couldn’t bear to see her like this.
Tears broke and rolled down his cheeks, but he forced himself to keep composure otherwise. “Ooma, it’s Eres,” he said firmly.
“Eres?” Her body stiffened. Where have I…”
Mustae, she doesn’t even remember me.
“A half-remembered nightmare. Here, in this hell, where everything dies.” She was speaking only to herself. “Th-there was a light in that darkness. Yes, yes.” Roots around her legs began to unfurl, releasing her. “It was a child.”
“Ooma.” Eres held her by caved shoulders, gazing at her through bloodshot eyes. “You took me out here, taught me of Mustae, of Rudo and Gushda. You told me of Fata’s great powers with Reach. Remember, Ooma?”
She only stared back blankly. Her mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out, like she was chewing on her words, or relearning how to control her face.
“C’mon, let me take you hom-”
“No!” she snapped, wriggling free of Eres’ grasp and pushing him away with one long poke of her cane. “You don’t know the way. I was home for years, years. It’s you who took me from it.”
Eres sat back, stunned. “But...”
She scowled at the floor and waved a hand at him like he was scum, and then began rocking back and forth to try and get up. How long had she been there? Her joints, bones, everything was locked up. Or maybe that was just part of her advanced age. Either way, it killed him to watch, to not be able to help.
“Argh,” she scoffed, still finding herself stuck in place.
“Ooma.”
“Stop calling me that, home wrecker! Ot’mogo.”
“Ot’mogo… demon? I’m no demon, Ooma. I’m your grandchild!”
“Up. Up, up, up,” she said to herself, finally using Reach – the vines – to lift her onto her feet. Legs were wobbly, hardly able to support her weight regardless of how compact she was. Then she squared her shoulders as best she could and shook a crooked finger at Eres.
“That, yes, that right there, is precisely what an Ot’mogo would say,” she scolded before muttering to herself, “takes me out of my home. Says he helps. Pfah.” She glanced at him and scowled again. “Raids my esper, says he’s a friend. Ot’mogo says he’s a friend, hah.”
Eres took a long quivering breath as he stared on. He pictured how loving she once was, how wise and powerful. She made him feel safe when no one else could, like nothing could go wrong. Now this.
“Not like this,” he whispered. “This isn’t how we were supposed to reunite. We were supposed to laugh. Tell stories. I was ready to finally listen. I’m not a kid anymore, Ooma. Aren’t you proud? I survived.”
Eres shook his head free of the fantasy, listening instead to the dark reality of her mumbling ahead of him. What else could he do but follow as she instinctively hobbled back toward their hut.
“What is it, you want my things?” She shrugged. “Fine, just leave the drawings. Those are mine. Touch them and I’ll strangle that filthy neck of yours Ot’mogo. Dela?”
“Dela,” he replied, head down, “Lorfa.”
She froze, eyes wide. “You travel between worlds, Ot’mogo? How else could you know that name? You watch me in my home with my daughter?”
Eres rounded her, no longer pleading, but instead accepting that maybe he was a demon. “No, no Lorfa. I knew you here once, in the place where everything dies. I have a question, if you’ll entertain such lowly filth.”
“First promise you won’t take them!”
“We already have a deal.”
“Fine. Go ahead. Ask your question you disgusting sack of slime.”
“Can I take the books? The ones by the chair?”
“Books.” She squinted, thinking.
“Yes, one in particular. I’d like the copy of Illiad’s Octor.”
She gasped.
Could it be? Was Eres witnessing a flash of recognition.
“Why does that sound so familiar?” She looked away.
“Oh, it was a very popular book among society once.” Eres wasn’t sure if he should be entertaining this, but it seemed to be the only way to communicate with her. “If you would be so kind as to let me curl up in that chair and read fo
r a few minutes… well that would mean very much to me. I’ll wipe my slime off when I’m done. Like I was never there.”
Lorfa made a face like she got a whiff of something rancid. “That’s a big ask, Ot’mogo. I’m not sure I’d ever get your stink out of my hut.”
“I understand. Well, whatever you decide, I will respect it. I must be going soon anyway.”
She scoffed. “Probably to terrorize some other helpless soul. Disgusting. I see through your polite little rouse. You can’t fool me. And I really don’t know how you found your way into this forest. It usually rejects terrible things lurking in the darkness. Maybe nature is waning… or maybe, your kind is getting more powerful. Either way-”
Does she think I’m one of those demons that Wudon has to contend with in the Dumos esper? Mustae. What does she see?
“Lorfa?”
“Yes?”
“I have another question to ask.”
“Yes, yes, I can’t seem to shake your filth. Go ahead.”
“Did a lovely young Umboro lady come to visit you?”
She promised she would. Windel… did you try at least?
“Describe her.”
“Long brown hair, one pronounced dimple, thin build, big brown eyes. Her name is Windel Freed.”
“Yes... wait,” she turned, staring with hatred in her eyes, “did you harm her? Is that why you’re asking me? Did you dare harm an innocent girl!?”
The bottom of her cane poked his chest.
“Never.” He sighed. “Not that you would believe an Ot’mogo, but, I-I.” He thought of how to spin this so she would listen. “I cut a deal with that one, just want to make sure she’s still wondering about so I can keep my end.”
“Hah! And you think I would tell you? How do I know you won’t try to drain her soul if she cannot pay?”
“She… she already did pay. Now I have to, um, get her the medicine. I owe her.”
“Sounds like another trick to me.” She sniffed hard and wiped her nose.
Eres sighed. “Okay, Lorfa.”
Silence. Just the splash of mud and crunch of twigs underfoot.
