But at least I had brought the sword. Otherwise, all would have been lost. Now all I had to do was let go and let it do what it had to do.
“I ought to,” I whispered, holding up the sword, the hilt grasped in both hands. “But I wish there was some way I could win without dying.” I started to loosen my grip.
“But how can I just give up?” I muttered, tightening it again. “What if there is a way? What if there is a way, even here, to live? Derek's fighting so hard to keep me alive. He'd feel terrible if he finds out that I died.” Derek fought for me, not my imagination. My death, whether it brought victory or not, would be failure to him.
Closing my eyes, I pictured him as I had last seen him, fighting so valiantly in my defense. For so long, he had hated me, denying me the brother I had longed for ever since Chris had played that roll. Now I had that brother, but he was soon to lose his sister.
Megan, too, was fighting for me, not with a sword of light, but with her prayers. While my years with Tisha for a sister had not been happy, it wasn't because I hadn't wanted a sister. I did – and I was unwilling to accept a lie. Megan wasn't a lie. She was the sister I was supposed to have.
Even though Megan liked the idea of becoming my Len, she much preferred the prospect of becoming my sister. And after hearing the story of what had happened to her real dad … well, loosing me the same way would surely be torture to her.
And my dad … he would never understand. He was never really interested in my imaginative stories when I was little. He's a practical mechanic, who never assumes more than the Good Book says about all things supernatural. Imagination … well … he doesn't think it very practical.
There are days when I wonder how my mother, who adores all things fantastical, and he ever fell in love.
To him, my death by snake bite would be just that. Death by snake bite. Even if Mom suddenly started writing, even if Megan wrote my story for me … he would never put two and two together. Never would he dream that this wild adventure actually happened.
How could I deprive my parents of their only natural child?
I opened my eyes again in an attempt to calm my frazzled thoughts, but the light from my sword was so bright that I shut them again instantly. Had my eyes simply adjusted to the darkness of my eyelids? Or what if …
I brought back to mind the faces of my family, each one so dear to me that even if they were the only person I knew, they were reason enough to live. A person with no friends can die without guilt, but I had friends, and a family that loved me dearly.
After exhausting my store of memories of my family, the light was so bright that the membranes of my eyelids were red. To open them then might have caused some serious eye damage!
With no more memories of my family left, I turned to my imaginary friends. First I pictured each where they were at that very moment – even without the Ankulen, my imagination's still part of me, I can still feel it. Tisha was hiding while Chris fought the dragon. Sir Erran was valiantly trying to rescue Janessa. The Wood Children were planting new trees. So many people were rejoicing in my return, I couldn't let them down, now could I? Others were fearing my death – and I had assured them that I would try to live.
My eyelids were now white, even though I had them scrunched up as tight as they could be. There was no way I was going to open them now.
I turned to all of the adventures I had had as a child. The early ones when it was just me and Tisha, then when I built my world and made up Chris to be our faithful protector. There was the quest to find Queen Tailya's crown (which had somehow ended up on the top of the Mountain), the contests between Chris and Sir Erran, the time we decided to fight the minotaur (that was when I made up the Labyrinth).
Suddenly, the whiteness exploded into color, and the silence into music. The Valley of Song was spread before me, beautiful and whole, and all of the Singers sat in their places, wearing their Greek chitons and playing upon their instruments. Only Flute was missing – and she was the one who had escaped the Polystoikhedron.
Then the music changed and so did the picture. Now it was the Green Valley, emerald and vibrant, and the Leprechauns danced to the rhythm of their tiny drums, the moon full above them and the stars merry. Not a single angry cloud was there to frown upon the party.
Then it changed again, and I saw River Cave restored – and then it changed to Coral Mountain. Scene after scene flashed against my closed eyelids, until I had seen everything that had been eaten by the Polystoikhedron. They were restored to how they once were and how they ought to be.
Inevitably, I soon exhausted my own store of destroyed imagination, but the pictures didn't stop. Now I was in a forest of trees with leaves the most vibrant shade of yellow I had ever seen. Among the branches danced a bird-like people, humanoid in form, but with feathers instead of hair.
Then it shifted to an ocean of green water. There was a castle carved into a cliff of blue rock. More humanoid creatures swam here, but they were covered in scales, and had large, webbed hands and feet.
On and on the scenes flashed, and I frankly don't remember half of them. There was a desert with dragons, a country lane with Regency-dressed ladies, the bridge of a warp-drive space craft … and that's only beginning to mention the variety.
I was witnessing the imaginations of the Anka and Anku who had come before me. The imaginations that had been eaten by the Polystoikhedron.
Eventually, however, the last scene faded into darkness and all was silent once more.
Chapter 24
In Which I Am Scarred for Life and New Friends Abound
“JEN! Jen! Are you all right?”
At first, I thought that I was imagining Derek's distant voice.
“Jen! Are you here? Answer me, Jen! Please!”
But his voice grew closer, and I realized that it might be real. Had the Polystoikhedron succeeded in eating him, too? Oh! I should have let go of my sword sooner!
“Jen!”
Though his voice seemed even closer now, it was softer. He was losing hope of finding me.
Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe I could still let go of the sword and destroy the Polystoikhedron. I would surely die, but maybe Derek would survive. It had to be worth the try!
Yet, when I tried to pry my fingers off of the hilt, they wouldn't budge. Indeed, not a single part of my body would respond to my mental commands. I was frozen – paralyzed!
“Jen!” Derek's voice was loud again, excited. A moment later, I felt his hand under my neck and I realized that I was horizontal. Had I fallen down while all of those pictures were assaulting me?
“Jen!” Panic shot into his voice as I felt him lift my head slightly. “Jen! Are you alive? Oh! Please be alive!”
I wanted to tell him I was, for however long it lasted, but as I said before, I couldn't move. All I could do was lie there with my head in his lap and listen to his voice.
“We won, Jen! The Polystoikhedron's gone, but … why were you so stubborn? Surely that stupid bracelet of yours wasn't worth this!”
Wait … the Polystoikhedron was gone? We won? Did that mean we weren't inside it anymore? Then why couldn't I move?
As I contemplated these questions, (and the meaning of life for good measure) a scalding wetness suddenly struck me on the cheek. Without thinking, my eyelids popped open, and I found myself looking up into six spinning pairs of Derek's brown eyes.
A groan escaped me as I closed my eyes again. “Just stop moving. You're making me dizzy.”
“Jen! You're alive.”
I was suddenly enveloped by a bone-crushing hug which was, quite frankly, twice as life-threatening as the fight with the Polystoikhedron had been. I didn't care though. It meant that I was still alive and all was right in my world.
(Oh, and for the record, Derek just informed me that I'm not allowed to say that he was crying. Apparently, there was a freak rain shower.)
“What's this I heard about the Polystoikhedron being gone?” I whispered as soon as Derek's excitem
ent lessened and I was able to breathe again. “Is it true? Or were you just making it up to make me feel like opening my eyes?”
Derek snorted – an amused snort, not a condemning one like I usually heard from him. “Oh, it's gone. Gone for good, I hope. I don't how, but there I was, whacking off head after head off of those snakes. I had to save you – I just had to! Then all of a sudden, the monster started shaking and looking all sickly and then it exploded in a great big flash of light!”
I cracked open one eye to see that Derek now only had two spinning faces. Both were beaming at the thought of the explosion. I smiled as my eyelids slid shut again. Typical boy. “Then what happened?” I asked.
“Well, for some time, the light was so bright, I couldn't see anything,” he explained, the explosion-thrill fading from his voice. “But when I could see, there was no sign of the Polystoikhedron, just all these bodies lying around, and you in the middle of them.”
“Bodies?” My eyes flew open again and I tried to sit up, but it seemed that all of my energy had been sapped in destroying the Polystoikhedron, since my body wouldn't respond. For the first time in my life, I was tired in my dreamworld.
Derek came to my rescue and helped me to a sitting position so I could look around. I wasn't seeing double anymore, but every few seconds, everything would have to jump back into its rightful place.
Sure enough, there were a bunch of people, just lying on their backs on the ground. Lots of them. Swallowing, I closed my eyes and Derek lowered me back into his lap
“Creepy, huh?” he suggested.
“They're the Anka and Anku I just restored,” I whispered, smiling weakly. “They're not dead, but finally alive again. They're just waiting for me to wake them up.” A second later I added, “Or at least that's my guess.”
“Your guess is correct, Anka Jenifer.”
The warm voice caused my eyes to pop open and, after lifting my chin by the slightest degree, I found myself looking up into The Giver's face.
“We did it,” I whispered.
“You fought well, Anka, as did your brother. The two of you make a fine team.” He bent down and placed a hand on my forehead. I closed my eyes as I felt strength course back into my frozen body.
“I couldn't let her fight that thing all by herself,” Derek declared. “I mean, look what happened even with me here!”
“She came to the battle knowing that she would likely die, and willing to give her life,” said The Giver, removing his hand from my forehead and holding it out as an offer to help me to my feet.
“But I chickened out at the last moment and refused to let go of the sword,” I admitted, as I accepted the offered hand and was pulled into a standing position. “I was unwilling to die.”
“You were unwilling to die unless it was absolutely necessary,” The Giver corrected. “When you discovered what you thought might be another way, you chose to try it. Most are so hasty that they let go of the sword before they discover the second, and far more powerful, method. You, Anka Jenifer, are only the fourth to do so.”
I shrank a little as I realized the hugeness of what I had just done. “But … what if I had thrown the sword into its mouth before it could eat me?”
“That is a mistake that many Anka and Anku have made,” said The Giver, shaking his head. “No, it would have only brought you failure and death. The Polystoikhedra will not swallow those swords unless they are clutched tightly in the hands of an Anka or Anku.”
“Oh. So the only way to win and live was to picture things in my mind?”
“The Polystoikhedra eat imagination, but when it is formed from within, and combined with light and truth, well, it disagrees with them.”
Derek snorted. “I'll say.”
“But, if you look at it from the view of your imaginary friends, you did die – for consumption by the Polystoikhedra is death to them.”
I blinked. “I – I guess you're right.”
“You have become a picture, Anka Jenifer. An imperfect picture, for no picture is perfect, but a picture all the same.”
A shiver went down my spine as I realized the weight of those words. “You mean that because I suffered what would have been death to … I became … wow.”
“Your characters were tricked into breaking your rules, just as the first man and woman were tricked into breaking the one law the LORD had set before them,” The Giver explained. “The LORD chose to send His Son to die the humans' death, and thus take their punishment for himself. You chose to suffer what would have been death to your imaginary friends.”
Goosebumps rose on my skin, and I rubbed my arm. That's when I realized that my shoulder no longer hurt. Surprised, I pushed up the sleeve of my T-shirt (which had, amazingly enough, survived the bite intact and unstained) to see what had become of my injury.
It wasn't gone, but it was healed. All that remained was a large white scar in an unnamed shape which was indented slightly into my skin.
“You will wear this scar as long as you live,” said The Giver, “as a reminder of what you did this day. Like your Ankulen, it will only be seen by those who can understand its meaning. Now, as you know, it is not normally the place of the Anka and Anku to fight with a sword, so will you please hand me yours?”
Wordlessly, I nodded and placed the hilt of my sword in his outstretched hand. I wasn't terribly surprised when it began to shrink, turning red and losing its glow.
“Hold out your hand,” he instructed. I did so, and he slid it back into my hand. “This is the weapon that you shall use against the darkness.”
As I stared down at at the metallic red mechanical pencil that lay on the palm of my hand, a smile spread across my face. This was the very same pencil that I had found so inadequate that morning.
“I know how to use it now,” I said, clutching it to my heart. “No more sitting by the side of the stream staring at a blank notebook for me!”
“And you, Soldier Derek,” said The Giver, turning his attention to my brother. “You shall keep your sword, and may it serve you well, just as you serve the LORD. But it will not always be visible in the real world, mind you, and will often manifest in different forms.”
“I will learn to use it in any form!” Derek declared.
“Its most common form will be a Book.”
Derek stopped short, blinking. “A book?”
But The Giver had already turned to me. “Now, it is time for you to awaken the lost Anka and Anku. They have slept long enough. However, I think you should save the one you recognized for last. You have a lot of things you want speak with her about, do you not?”
I nodded. “I shall … only, how will I wake them up?”
“It shouldn't take you long to figure it out.” With a smile, he disappeared.
I turned to Derek, “Well then, let's start … what's wrong?”
Derek's eyebrows were knit as he stared at the sword in his hand. “A book?”
“Oh yes, the Bible,” I explained. “It's called the Sword of the Spirit – I'm surprised I didn't make the connection sooner!”
“But … a book?”
“Well, I'm sure it'll more practical for you than a pencil,” said I, sliding my own pencil into my ponytail. It was also more practical than a stick for me.
“Well, I guess so, but … I can't read.”
I stopped short and turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Oh, that's right. You've been asleep in my imagination for the last eight years.”
“I … well I struggled with reading even before that,” he admitted. “My dad,” he spat the word out, causing me to wince, “didn't believe in books.”
Placing an encouraging hand on his arm, I smiled up at him. “Well, we'll help you learn. Megan too. She was only seven, so I'm sure she needs some help catching up in school too.”
“Do you think we'll be caught up enough so that we won't look stupid when schools starts … when does school start?”
I frowned for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, don't worry about when
school starts. Mom homeschools. School is whenever she says it is. And whatever.”
“Homeschools?”
“I'll explain later when I have time.” I turned to the nearest Anka, a blonde-haired woman in her mid-thirties. “For right now, I have a few new friends to wake up.” I walked over to her and knelt beside her. She lay, like all of the rest of them, flat on her back, her hands folded over her chest. Biting my lip, I contemplated what The Giver had meant when he said that I would soon figure it out.
My eye fell on the necklace she wore, a simple silver chain with a diamond pendant. This was her Ankulen, I knew without a doubt. On a hunch, I tapped the diamond. Her eyes flew open.
“Greetings, Anka,” I said, smiling my best friendly smile.
She frowned. “My name is Martha … where am I?”
“Anka Martha,” I corrected, holding out a hand to help her sit up. “You are in the land of dreams.”
“The land of … how did I get here? Who are you? Anka?” She pushed herself up, ignoring my offered hand.
“I'm Anka Jenifer,” I explained, sitting back onto my heels. “We're both Anka because we have Ankulens.”
“Ankulens?”
I pointed to her necklace. “Don't you remember your imagination? How real it used to be?”
She frowned, touching her necklace lightly. “It … it did seem real … but how did you know about it?”
“Because you're here. You're an Anka like me. Anka have imaginations that can be made real – that's who we are.”
“But …” Martha held up the pendant and just stared at it. “Now that you mention it … this does look familiar, but I … it was so long ago.”
“Try tapping it,” I suggested on another hunch.
“Tapping it?”
“Uh huh. That's how you get its attention. Tap it, then tell it you want to remember your lost imagination.”
An awkward grin pulled up one corner of her mouth, but she followed my suggestion. A white glow spread over her and her eyes slid closed, her mouth relaxing into a natural smile.
The Ankulen Page 20
