“She has a price on her head, a reward that the President is offering to all gnomes. Why would you help her?” Firturro asked as he scrutinized the gnome.
“Because…because….” the gnome looked everywhere except at Firturro, and he kept swaying back and forth. “She only friend.”
“Gnomes don’t have friends.”
“No true. Very lonely. Not know lonely was. Del help me. She make friend.”
“Why do you call her Del when Obawok women don’t have names?”
“Del belong to Darelle. And me, Six. Del say names make real. Bad to no have name.”
“So it is, so it is.” Firturro furrowed his brow and headed to the living room, curious about this woman who had the power to befriend a gnome and keep him loyal even in the face of death. Since gnomes were immortal creatures, the mere thought of death would send them into anxiety attacks.
“Why does she need me?”
“She know something, something he tell her. It scare her. Scared enough to run.”
“How could I help?”
“I bring her here.”
“I see, and how are you going to do that with guards and gnomes alike watching for her?”
“Not know. You help?” Six’s brow was creased and his eyes brimmed with tears. Firturro had never seen this type of emotional display from a gnome before. Fear of death was the only emotion he had ever known them to possess.
Firturro went to his closet and rummaged through a box in the corner. Six began to fidget, looking back and forth between the bedroom door and the front door, but when Firturro returned holding his official apprentice cloak and amulet, his small yellow face turned into a hesitant smile.
“They won’t be looking for those in apprentice cloaks because they won’t think she’s capable of getting a new costume. So, take her these and make sure she covers her face as much as possible without looking suspicious. Do you understand?”
Six nodded his head solemnly.
“The two of you can’t come here together. You must walk ahead of her, but she must not appear to be following you. It would not be unusual for an apprentice to be in the Watcher’s Hall, but you need to be careful.”
Once again Six nodded.
“Okay, take these. Put them in a laundry bag, in case anyone sees you.”
Six took the bag in silence and stared at Firturro with such intensity it made Firturro nervous.
“What? Is there something else you need?”
“Thank you.” Six said, shoving the cloak and amulet into the tan laundry bag. Firturro shut the door and shook his head as he found himself on the edge of an abyss he couldn’t help falling into.
Del was lost in a tumbling world of bright sunlight and greenery. She was amazed at all of the lush plant life, but she had no time to take it in. Something was chasing her, stalking her at a leisurely pace, but it was closing in on her. It was coming, and she wasn’t at all sure what it was.
The plant life began to blur as she raced through the forest. She looked back and saw that there was nothing more than a shadow pushing through the forest after him. A sharp pain sank in through her chest and she couldn’t keep running. Her legs felt as if they were filled with lead and he was closing in on her. Just as the terror closed in round her throat and restricted her breathing, she was shaken awake. She would have called out but the immediate and overwhelming realization of where she was came to her as her eyes flung open and she saw Six standing in front of her. She bit down on her tongue and struggled to swallow back the unspoken yelp, but it stuck in her throat like a rotting piece of meat.
She kept swallowing, but she could only hear the dry clicking of her throat. When she looked into Six’s eyes, she could feel the dry sobs of relief building around the sore knot in her throat.
Terror and fatigue had set in on her, creeping in through her flesh and overtaking her mind. Some of it had probably been brought on by the dream, but she felt time closing in, and she knew that she had get to Trulle soon.
Six was holding out a thick brown apprentice cloak adorned with an apprentice watcher’s amulet. It was a gorgeous violet stone set on silver backing with silver clasps on either side to hold the cloak. This type of cloak was reserved for apprentices who were just beginning their training. Once an apprentice had worked for two years, they got a routine cloak. They used this simple brown one so that if the apprentice was forced to change fields, they could simply change the amulet instead of getting a whole new cloak.
“Where did you get this?” She whispered.
“From good watcher. He want to help. Hurry, hurry,” he said as he thrust the cloak into her lap and peered over his shoulder. She stood, and all her joints creaked and rumbled as her weary bones moved for the first time in many hours. The blood flowed back into her legs in a thick warm rush.
She winced as she maneuvered out of the councilman’s cloak that had kept her hidden, feeling both relieved and saddened as it tumbled into the bag Six was holding. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp, and it took her three tries to get it successfully closed. Pulling the hood down until it covered her face, she nodded towards Six to let him know she was ready, but he was shaking his head.
“Friend say no pull hood down too far. Bring much attention. And attention not good, Del.”
“How far down I should wear it?”
He motioned for her to lean towards him. Once her head was close enough he grabbed the edge of the hood and gently pushed the fabric back until it rested just a couple of inches down her forehead. When his fingers came too close to her skin, he began to shake and he pulled his hands back. The feel of flesh caused gnomes to have a violent reaction.
“There good.”
“Let’s go, then.” Del took a step forward, but Six held up his hand.
“Yes, we go, but stay behind. It dangerous together.”
She nodded her head. “I’ll come out after you leave and I count to twenty.” She whispered.
Giving her one last solemn look, he turned and walked into the hall.
With each passing number she felt less and less like leaving. She didn’t want to risk anything else, didn’t want to die…11, 12, 13, 14…
The tension built around her. It would be easy to wait it out, to wait until they found her and endure the President’s punishment. It would be easier than taking the huge step outside of her comfort zone…18, 19…
Closing her eyes and simultaneously taking a deep breath, she stepped out of her dark cubbyhole and into the soft light of the hall. Each step she took echoed in her ears, heralding her existence. Gulping down the stale air and holding it in her lungs, she tried to appear normal and studied her feet as they moved, trying to make them rise and fall in even steps.
She didn’t have to look up to know that Six was also trying to be cautious, maybe even more so than her. There was nothing for him to hide under, and it would be easier to spot a gnome wondering around where he shouldn’t be. The President was often just as hard on the gnomes as he was women, and Six was risking a lot to bring her to this friend of his. She just hoped the friend was worth trusting.
207
Seventeen
Unveiling the truth, the darkness of man.
Roger’s feet rose and feel with the monotony of a robot as he tried to find the path of least resistance through the lush plant life that continued to rise up and claim him. Every step contained a certainty that at any second he would break through the thick growth. The vision was so powerful that Roger could see a hunched over Obawok sitting in front of the ruins of a day old fire. He had been waiting for Roger, was still waiting for him. However, the thing that had been following him yesterday was still there, and although he’d only caught glimpses of it so far, he could feel it boring down on him.
His feet began to move faster on their own, and before he knew it he was trotting, then jogging though branches that reached up and pulled at his skin and clothing with stinging fingertips. The terror closed around his throat, making him push for
ward through the lush greenery at increasing speed as his need to get out of that enclosed space tried to overwhelm him.
He was moving so fast now that he could no longer pay attention to the plants around him. They rushed by him in a banner of green as his footsteps pounded on the hard earth and the air burned into his lungs. The world rushed on around him, but his legs felt as if they were filled with lead and each step was sapping more and more energy. Roger closed his eyes and concentrated on shutting out the fear that was pounding through his muscles with every thump of his frantic heart, willed himself to slow down and eventually to stop. Keeping his eyes closed, he took several deep breaths. When he opened his eyes, he began to survey the area, taking a thorough inventory of his surroundings.
When he looked in the direction that he believed was westward, he noticed an overgrown path sparsely scattered with blue. Walking to the point where the branch in the path occurred, he kneeled down to examine the area. He saw that this other path lead directly into a tangle of low hanging trees.
207
Kristi Brooks
Something lingered at the corner of his thoughts, telling him that while this path might contain danger, it would also contain redemption. He looked through the leaves and noticed more blue intermittently sewn through the dense greenery, so faint that it was easy to believe it wasn’t there.
Just to his left was the perfect walking stick, a branch that was at least five-foot long and four inches thick. It was heavy, but not too heavy, and it would serve as his guide for this part of the journey. If the branch became a burden, he would continue on without it.
He slowed his pace, being sure to plant the stick firmly in the ground ahead of his feet as he parted the bushes and entered a part of the forest locked in constant twilight
They rounded the corner and entered an area where all the tunnels merged into one open area. Now Six went straight through the large room and turned down another tunnel. Del followed, making a right hand turn and following the gnome into the corridor. After she rounded the entrance, she noticed Six was being watched very carefully by an older Obawok walking in the opposite direction, and another Obawok was approaching them from even further down the hall. She could almost feel the breath halt in her throat, and the cloak weighed more than anything she’d ever carried.
She wanted to scream, to cry, but most of all she wanted to run, to shed her disguise and run back to her comfortable hole. However, her feet kept moving despite these urges. A door began to open on the side of the hall opposite Six.
Del slowed her pace and looked on in horror as the watcher that emerged from that room approached them. The older Obawok held out a full laundry bag to Six. Six took the load and turned around heading back in the direction he had come. When he passed by Del, she noticed he was smiling.
“Friend,” Six whispered so softly Del almost didn’t hear him.
She continued walking towards the stranger, unsure about what she was supposed to do when Obawok approached her. Looking down the hall, she noticed that the other Obawok were no longer there.
“I was expecting you. Come in,” he said before turning and walking back to the open door. Del gulped a large breath and followed the man into his room.
Firturro had been watching for the pair, and when he’d noticed the approaching Obawok, he had been prepared. It was not uncommon for Obawok to stop gnomes and give them tasks, so he was hopeful that the other watcher would not think anything unusual was going on.
Once he’d collected Del and they were in his apartment, he turned and introduced himself.
“My name is Firturro, and I’m not really sure what’s going on, but I know you ‘belong’ to the President and that you are now running from him.”
Del nodded, still not trusting herself to speak.
Firturro motioned for her to sit down and offered her a cup of Kalika. He’d brewed a fresh pot after the gnome left. It wasn’t until he’d finished his second cup of Kalika and was returning to the kitchen to get another that she spoke.
“I’m not sure who you are or what you believe or even if I can trust you.” She sighed and looked into her empty cup as he turned around.
Firturro didn’t answer; instead, he returned to his seat, set down his cup, and waited.
“I don’t know where to begin so that you’ll understand everything.” She paused again, and continued to stare into the mug clasped between her hands before resuming her story. “The President first came to me over four life times ago.”
Firturro’s eyes widened, but he stayed silent. If she had met the President that long ago, it wouldn’t have been Darelle but rather his grandfather, Yeselle. He thought her measurement of time must be off since she’d spent her whole life locked in the pits, but he wasn’t about to argue with her.
“I was young, and the President had to have younger Obawok because…because of his violent behavior. When he’d been with a woman once or twice, she had to be retired. He didn’t want to mate with women to reproduce like most of the other Obawok who visit but rather to brutalize and rape their unconscious bodies.
“I have always been a dreamer. When I was very young and we were in the learning environment, all the others used to tease me about wanting to be something else, wanting to do something else.” She stopped herself and studied Firturro’s face with quiet intensity, and he saw that rage rippled in her shimmering eyes.
“Why would they teach us anything at all if we were never expected to do more or be more than tools for reproduction? Why teach us language and history, why offer us that kind of hope?” She knew she wasn’t going to get a good answer, but her tear-filled eyes longed for some kind of logic, something to get her through.
“I don’t know much about what goes on in the pits. That section of our society is run entirely by President Darelle himself.”
“Don’t call him that! Don’t ever call him that!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she broke down into voiceless sobs. After a little while, she stopped.
“I’m sorry. I guess I had better get back to my point. When the President first came to me, he saw that spark of hope in me, and when I refused to let him beat it out of me, that intrigued him. I officially became his and only his. I was put into a private room, and he was the only male allowed to visit.
“After each visit, he would give me something when I was barely conscious. It was some formula that helped to heal my wounds so I didn’t have to be retired. He told me that the Obawok before me had given birth to his son, Seille. He said that job would be mine from now on. But he would not let that happen until it was the appropriate time. I didn’t know what was really going on then, and it was quite a few years before I would be able to find out.”
She stood up and went to refill her cup. Her slow, sometimes lumbering steps told of an Obawok carrying a far heavier load than Firturro could have imagined. Returning to her chair, she began to speak again, still hesitant to meet Firturro’s eyes.
“I realized that whatever he was giving me to heal me was also preventing me from aging. I had been with him for a couple hundred years and had barely aged. I didn’t know what to make of it. He was aging slowly and at a far steadier pace than I. One day when he announced himself as Seille, I realized what was going on, but by that time, I was already pregnant with a son. I had carried a child for him the year before, but it had been a girl, and he had her taken away as soon as she was born. I never knew what happened to her.
“When he first entered the room, I actually thought it was someone different. I didn’t realize that it was him, Yeselle, until he moved towards me with that same menacing, looming stare and that horrible breath. He didn’t have to tell me; I knew. He said that he had taken Seille’s place as the heir to the throne because there was no way he would ever give it up. I don’t know how he did it, but I think it had something to do with his healing liquid.”
“So you’re saying that Seille and Yeselle were the same person?”
“Yes, they were both him. H
e used their names and took their spots. He killed them and claimed that their bodies were his own, leaving him free to continue living and ruling under the names of his sons.”
“You know how all this sounds, don’t you?” Firturro asked. He might have been intrigued by this woman’s story, but he wasn’t going to naively believe it was true. Because if this story was true, it would be an entirely unknown chapter in Obawok history, in which the biggest question would be exactly how old the President was and who he was originally.
“I know I sound like a raving lunatic, like one of the older Obawok women who have spent so much time servicing men in that dark, dank hole that when they are retired they don’t know what to do with themselves. I also know that for his part, Six can back up my story and that he trusted you. When I’m done, I think you’ll probably understand and believe a lot more.”
Firturro settled into his chair and, in his own noncommittal way, signaled her to continue.
“He came to me and said it was the only way for him to continue living. He said it was for the best. I didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t in the mood for talking really, he just came to taunt me. Because of the pregnancy he couldn’t torture me physically, but he knew it would bother me to know of my son’s fate.
“After he left, I thought of ways to escape, to get out with the baby. I went through all of the options, but nothing seemed rational. I mean, he was the President, and he would find us. I thought it would just make things worse for the baby, and that maybe, maybe if I just sat back and let everything happen, it would be different. He had kept me alive, why not our son?
“I was so naïve,” she said as the tears spilled down her cheeks.
“If you had left, you would be dead now, and no one would ever know what you’re telling me.” She didn’t answer but instead looked at him with those large, violet shimmering mirrors.
Vision2 Page 14
