The Shivered Sky

by Matt Dinniman

  His parents were agnostics, borderline atheists. He didn't believe in any particular religion himself, but he knew there was something more out there. And he was going.

  That was how he lived. Alone.

  And in the same house he was born, he died. Alone.

  I am the Navigator.

  But what did that mean? He knew he had to bring the others to the city. He still didn't know why, a lingering nagging at the back of his mind, constantly bothering him. He had thought he was going to die, and he would know immediately what his task was. It would be implanted into his memory. Like the way they spoke this wonderful language. But everything else was wrong. Never did he sense that the world of Heaven was a dangerous place. The forest had looked big, but harmless from above. It just wasn't right.

  What bothered him most was the holographic angel. Indigo and the others seemed to believe the contraption was broken, but Gramm had a deeper sense of foreboding. He saw the look in the angel's eyes when it saw the beach. Pure terror. He had been so confident until that moment. Its words of warning were permanently anchored into his memory:

  If you do not remove me from this sand and get yourself under cover right now, you will likely experience a death so painful and drawn out, your human mind couldn't fathom it.

  Rico was talking to him, something about the spear through his hand and how Gramm had saved his life, but his mind couldn't focus on the words.

  Rico grabbed his shoulder, thrusting him back to the present. They were still on the thin trail, and Rico and Gramm were in the middle. Indigo and Hitomi up front.

  “Don't you understand?” Rico said.

  “What?” he asked. Rico looked hurt. “I'm sorry. I've been out of it, you know?”

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “I know what you mean. That's been some weird shit.” He kicked some rocks around, like he was embarrassed. “Anyway, I was saying you saved my life, man. That's hardcore where I'm from. We've done battle together. We're blood brothers now, and I got your back.”

  “I didn't save your life. How could I? We're already dead.”

  “We ain't dead all the way, that's for sure. Did you see the way that Indigo smashed the face of that little dude in? That's dead. I may be Earth dead, but I ain't Heaven dead. I almost was, but I'm not ‘cause of you.”

  Earth dead, Heaven dead. He hadn't thought of it that way. It seemed to be a fact of this place, and he had to accept it. “You would have done the same thing. We're in this together, so we stand up for each other.”

  Rico slapped him roughly on the back. “Right on, gringo.”

  He tried to block the altercation with the weasel men from his mind, but Rico got him thinking about it again. Particularly the way Indigo had handled the situation.

  When the skirmish started, he had been frozen. Fear was mostly to blame, but it was also surprise and awe at Indigo. It was like watching a world-class dancer do her favorite ballet. She was the strongest amongst them. She was more than just a good fighter. She was a trained killer.

  Was she faking her amnesia? He didn't think so. But, she was the only one with any memory loss. She was even a bigger mystery than Hitomi, with her flaming entrance to this world.

  They marched on, a trance of silence coming over them for a long period. Time no longer seemed existent. There was only one foot in front of the other. They could have been walking for weeks, but it didn't matter. Maybe months. There was no fatigue, or hunger. The water from the brook seemed to have permanently filled them.

  Eventually, the darkness became thicker in this area of the forest. Even the monster trees seemed to be stunted slightly by the lack of light. The constant drone of bugs was more subdued, adding to the creepy, ominous feeling.

  Then it happened. He got the sign.

  He had an urge, an impossibly strong tug, to his left. Like a line of wire connected him with some mysterious destination deep in the forest. The powerful feeling came out of nowhere. That was why he was here. He was the Navigator, and he was being told where to go. To the left. Follow the line.

  “Everyone stop,” he said.

  They paused.

  “We need to go this way,” he said, pointing off to his left.

  “That's off the trail,” Dave said. “We could start walking in circles.”

  “Why?” Indigo asked. “Is this something from your dream?”

  “Sort of. I have a strong feeling suddenly of where to go. I think we should listen to it.”

  “You have a feeling?” Dave said.

  “It's very real, stronger than anything I've ever felt. I'm not making it up.”

  “Let's do it,” Rico said. “This trail hasn't been exciting for hours.”

  Dave was clearly not convinced. “It's safer here.” Hitomi nodded.

  “No,” Indigo said after some thought. “Gramm's dream told us about this forest before we even saw it. I think we should trust him.”

  Dave objected, but in the end they decided to follow Gramm's hunch. Gramm moved to the forward of the procession with Hitomi at his side. She smiled nervously.

  Since the game trail they had been following was so faint, traveling without it wasn't much different. The underbrush was mostly the same thickness, and they still had to occasionally dodge dropping leaves the size of elephants. Darkness fell.

  “Maybe it's night out there,” Rico said.

  Gramm had been thinking that too. The brilliant light from Hitomi's flashlight was comforting. Without it, they'd be in complete darkness. However, he wasn't comfortable relying solely on her ability to use the light as both a guide and a weapon. What if something happened to her?

  Then, they abruptly exited the forest. It was entirely dark, except for Hitomi's light. Before them was a field of lush, green grass about knee high. A strong floral odor hung. It reminded him of the hospital. The bug sound was completely gone, as if they had all suddenly dropped dead.

  In the distance, there seemed to be a tall wall of some sort bursting out of the grass. It wasn't blocking their path because the end of it faced them. They could choose either side and walk along it. The end sloped into the ground like a staircase.

  “What the hell is that?” Rico asked, pointing at the barrier.

  “Come on,” Gramm said. He was being led to the right of the wall. It was about half a kilometer before they actually got there. Traveling through the grass was like walking through a field of masking tape. Everything stuck to him, and every time he moved his foot, he had to yank it.

  They finally reached the barrier. It was made of wood. In fact, not just wood, but tree bark. How odd. Then he realized what it really was.

  “Holy shit,” Dave said.

  It wasn't a wall. It was a root. The end of it plunged into the dirt, giving the illusion of a staircase. The above-ground part towered up several hundred meters into the air, snaking like a gigantic worm into the darkness, leading, presumably, to a tree that made the ones behind them look like dandelions.

  Rico ran his hand across the bark. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Gramm was already following along the wall of the root. The grass here was sparser and they could move more quickly. They followed it for a long time. Finally, they could see individual rays of red light in the distance, burning down like spotlights out of the dark sky.

  It wasn't night above the forest. The trees were just under the shadow of this mountain of lumber. He remembered flying quickly over the trees in his dreams, and the giant leaves were concentrated at the end of the branches, making the foliage look like giant donuts from above.

  He didn't remember any particular trees standing out bigger than the others, but as he passed over the forest, there had been a wall of darkness far to his left. Could that have been this tree? If so, this monstrosity rivaled the tower in the center of their ultimate destination, the city of Cibola. If it had been on Earth, it would be the diameter of a city.

  But that also meant they weren't out of the forest at all, but only in the center. This was
n't the field that led to Cibola, but a clearing made by the strangled light of the gargantuan tree. His heart sank at the thought of it.

  A far off whistling and resounding crash warned them things were occasionally falling from above. Rico pointed out a shell the size of a hot-air balloon. An acorn.

  “That's just great,” Dave muttered.

  The first beam of light was a welcome landmark. Soon, they blended, and it was like there was nothing above them at all. When they looked straight up, there was only an opaque red haze.

  With the light came more foliage. Sparse, waist-high bushes.

  Finally the great tree came into focus, a mountain of wood. Its shape was probably round, but it looked completely flat. It filled the world in front of him. To the left, right, up, nothing but the ancient, dark wood.

  “Now that's what I call a tree!” Rico exclaimed.

  Gramm was in too much awe to speak.

  He veered them away from the root slightly and toward his mysterious destination. The tug was stronger than ever, and he sensed they were close.

  They eventually came upon a gnarled, lone tree. It was dead, the blackened wood like charcoal. Lying at the base was a figure. A person! Gramm's heart pounded. This was where he was meant to take them. He rushed forward, leaving the others behind.

  To his dismay, it wasn't a person at all, but a creature. And it was dead.

  It was on its back, with long, misshapen fingers curled over its chest. It seemed to be tall, almost Gramm's height. A pair of horns grew from its forehead and curled back behind the pointed ears. Like a ram. It had long, knotted and dreadlocked gray hair. Its skin was cracked with time, with wrinkles so deep they seemed bottomless.

  It wore simple clothes, a brown vest, brown pants, a blue cloak. Black boots rose to its knees. On the grass next to it was a peculiar musical instrument. It was a lute with an extra wide neck and eighteen or so strings, which were wound crazily around the head stock. Gramm had an urge to pick it up, caress the strings.

  The others caught up, all staring at the creature.

  “What now?” Indigo asked, the disappointment evident in her voice.

  Rico pointed at the creature's hand. “It ain't dead. Look, it's moving.”

  The creature slowly and deliberately sat up. The musical instrument jumped up out of the grass like magic and was caught in its hands. The strings vibrated with a full, beautiful chord. The creature pulled his hand over the neck, and the vibrations stopped.

  “T-sir eel-A-neyef I woon D'na,” it said with a male voice, a smile bent on its lips.

  “Say what?” Dave asked, looking at the others. Indigo shrugged.

  It sucked in a breath of air. “My name is not important, though most of you will learn it. To those who must name me, I am called The Unraveler. Come, sit around me,” he said. “I have practiced this speech for a very long time, and I am glad it has come out so well. Do not ask questions because I will be unable to answer them. Sit.” The words were slow and raspy, and his face was crunched up in concentration. No one moved.

  “I am quite old and almost dead. I can no longer harm you, even if I wanted.” He paused. “I know you will sit.” His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, as if he was a marionette. He turned to Indigo. “No questions, said I.”

  She clamped her mouth shut, as if she had almost said something. Gramm, full of wonder, sat. The others followed.

  “Demons are about, and they are hunting you. They are not angels, so the True Light drains them. That is why you, Hitomi, can injure them. If you do not trust someone, use the light. If they are demons, you shall slay them. The others will learn to use the light in time, but only for short periods.”

  He held up his hand. “Please, I said. Do not speak. We cannot communicate.”

  Rico grunted, his mouth open. Hitomi sat with open-jawed amazement.

  “Girl smart,” the Unraveler said. He laughed, a wheezing sort of sound. He nodded vigorously with joy. Hitomi suddenly jerked up with her flashlight, but he remained uninjured.

  Gramm and Indigo looked at each other. He was obviously out of his mind.

  “Give vigilance to these words,” the Unraveler said, suddenly dead serious. The power in his awkward voice gave Gramm the chills. There was something strange about it, almost familiar. It reminded him of his father's voice when he was on the phone with the Medicare and insurance people, talking about preexisting conditions and twelve-month waiting periods. Fear and nervousness, all carefully hidden under a blanket of power and strength. “My existence does not guarantee your success. Never fall into that trap, for time is never predestined. Neither for you or me.

  “I can't answer your questions.”

  “How did you know her name?” Rico blurted out.

  The creature had anticipated Rico's question, Gramm suddenly realized. How odd.

  “I suspect you have many questions. Most answers will come in time, and if I reveal too much I shall damn you with that knowledge.

  “Know this: you have blood flowing through your veins, just like you did in your home. Your bodies are different. They heal quickly, and they need much less rest and much less food. However, there is death. Some believe it is absolute.”

  Then he looked deeply at each of them in turn. “Indigo, your memory shall return. Be careful not to welcome it so quickly.” She shifted uneasily.

  “David, you will be given the opportunity for a great sacrifice. Choose wisely, and do not allow others to make it for you. Be mindful. If you do not confront your personal demons, they will come to you.”

  “Hitomi, you can wield the light. That contraption you hold is called a periscepter, one of thirteen in existence. Many died so that horrible weapon may reach your hands. Never forget that. Be wary of those who will want to take it from you.

  “Rico,” he said. The pudgy boy leaned forward in anticipation. “Like all of us, you play an important role in the fulfillment of the Prophecy. May that be some solace to you in the dark times ahead.” Rico frowned, clearly not pleased. The creature paused for a long time, as if he was inexplicably holding back tears.

  “And finally, Gramm.” Their eyes met. Gramm held his breath, his heart frozen in his throat. A connection held them, powerfully strong. “You are the Navigator. You must bring the others to the Spire of Jhunayn within Cibola. It will be a treacherous journey, only one of many.” He paused. “There will be a moment when you will make a grievous mistake. It torments me that I cannot tell you what it is. Forgiving yourself will take a long, terrible time. But it will happen, my friend. I promise it will. One day you will find yourself here again, near the base of the Tree of Eternity. Only then may you finally rest. May your journey be strong.” He grabbed Gramm's wrist in a medieval handshake. “Well met my friend.”

  The Unraveler slowly stood. His lute swung behind his back. Before Gramm could protest, he began to walk away, backwards. Gramm jumped to his feet, but the Unraveler quickened his pace. He paused in the distance, long enough to wave, then disappeared into the haze, moving impossibly fast. It was like watching a video being rewound. Gramm was jolted as their connection was snapped, like they had been physically attached.

  No one said anything for a long period. Gramm stood for a long time, watching where the backwards-moving creature had disappeared. Of all the things that had happened so far, it was definitely the most surreal. If the creature hadn't known their names, if he hadn't felt the connection, he would have quickly dismissed the whole thing. But it seemed to know everything that had happened to them so far, and he predicted their futures. But why speak in riddles? If you're going to tell fortunes, why not just spit it out?

  Rico was the first to speak. “What did he mean by ‘Prophecy'?”

  “I don't know,” Indigo said. She appeared deeply troubled.

  “Demons are hunting us,” Hitomi whispered.

  They looked at her. She seemed to be the most frazzled of them all. She looked up, holding the periscepter in her palms, eyes afraid. “Why me?�
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  An awkward silence followed.

  “Every time something new happens,” Indigo said, “we end up with more questions than answers. I don't know why. None of us do. But I do know this. We need you to be strong. You are our protection.”

  “I've never hurt anyone before,” she said. She dropped the light. “I don't want to start.”

  “Too late,” Rico said.

  Indigo punched him in arm. Her fist bounced off the suit.

  “Look,” Rico said. “Those little guys were going to massacre us. They started it. You won't be wasting anything that doesn't deserve it. You'll only be hurting the bad guys.” He picked the light up and shoved it back into her hands.

  “Be strong,” Indigo added. “For all of us.”

  She took the light, weeping silently.

  * * * *

  The Unraveler watched Gramm from a distance. The young boy's reluctance to take risks wouldn't go away for a long time. But he would learn. Slow, like the way a tree learned to seek the heavens.

  He fingered the neck of his grand dulcimer. It was his oldest friend, given to him long ago. The smell of the oiled wood on his fingers was comforting beyond words. He wondered what would happen to it. It, along with his clothes and food, were the only objects that traveled freely in his inverted time stream. Would it revert forward again, or would it simply disappear, blown away like dust in the wind? He liked the latter idea the most. No one else could play it as well as him.

  Memories

  Indigo began remembering things just before the attack by the stream, but what she learned about herself was terrifying, and she didn't dare share it. Not yet.

  The burn on her face hadn't gone away, unlike all of the other injuries the group had sustained. It ached slightly, especially when she touched it. She tried not to think about it. Just a burn. It'd heal eventually.

  Why would she want to stray away from her own past, even if it was shameful or disturbing? The sum of anyone's memories made them who they were. Without them, she felt as if she was stumbling, barely staying on her feet.