Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

“Good morning, sunshine. Are we ready to get a start, then?” Caduceus was dressed in one of his customary t-shirts and cut-off shorts. These were of the homemade variety, with strings dangling down his legs. “C’mon, up and at ‘em.”

  “Just a few more minutes. Go have some coffee or something,” I said in full-on sleep murmur.

  “Oh, that’s a great idea. I’ll have some coffee. Why, I hadn’t thought of that. A few more minutes, then. See you in a bit.” With that, he turned and went out of the room. I was just about to nod off, again, when I smelt the ozone smell of a thunderstorm. This was followed, in short order, by an arc of electricity from the hall to where I lay. I was lying facedown in the pillow, and was, thus, highly prone to a sneak attack from behind. The lightning struck me square in my left buttocks. “Yeow,” I screeched, “What was that for?”

  “Oh, that? That was my friendly way of reminding you I had already had my morning’s coffee during the third and fourth time I tried to wake your sorry lump up! Now, GET UP AND FIX MY ROOF! Stop by the kitchen and grab ya some breakfast on your way out. I made my five-pepper omelet, and I’m eager to see if you can stomach it.”

  “Sure, that sounds lovely, C. Just what I need, in fact: might as well have both the inside and outside of my butt burning because of you.”

  2

  Despite my apparent lack of any redeeming handyman skills, it wasn’t that hard of a chore. Of course, I did have Caduceus’ help. We had just finished thatching the roof; it was a little after one o’clock that afternoon, and we sat on the back porch, again, sipping on what was, undoubtedly, the sourest lemonade around. “We would have finished hours ago, if you wouldn’t have slept in so late,” Caduceus picked at me.

  “You had your hand in it, too, sir,” I countered.

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “You’re the one who made me eat that jalapeno and egg explosion before going out to do strenuous physical labor!”

  “Hah! Strenuous for whom? The only straining you had to deal with was when you were taking care of your breakfast! Now, finish your drink. I’ve got something I think’ll be a little more fun for the rest of the afternoon.”

  “This ought to be interesting,” I commented. I emptied my glass, stood and followed him to the railing. I was a little paranoid since this was the same spot where Caduceus nearly killed me a couple of nights back. “So, kill the suspense, Ducie. What did you have in mind?”

  “How about a little training exercise?”

  I tensed. “You’re not going to throw me, again, are you?”

  “Would it help to get you going?”

  “No,” I replied hastily

  “Then, no. I do think you believe me about your other powers. Now, we just have to get you to focus on bringing them to the fore. How did you summon your strength with the washing machine?”

  “I guess it was adrenaline-activated or maybe instinct? It wasn’t a conscious effort. I think you knew it wouldn’t be, since you lied to me about my wallet.” I held up my hand, “Sorry, you misled me.”

  “Correct. It wasn’t a conscious decision. But I believe it can be. That’s why I think you need to do some training exercises. Also, I believe the necklace might have something to do with your abilities.” He placed his hand around the chain at my chest and examined the chalk white stone. “At first I thought they were within you, but now I’m not so sure. You weren’t wearing it when I hoisted you over the rails. You were, however, wearing it when you did the same to my washer. A bobble, not entirely unlike my staff, I’d wager. Hmm, I am curious as to what is says.”

  “That makes two of us. I think if I knew that, it might give me some insight into who I am,” I said.

  “Agreed. I’ve an extensive library above your room. Assuming you didn’t take out too many of my shelves while trying to retrieve your wallet, I think I might have one or two that could illuminate some answers for you. For now, put that out of your head and join me.” He held out his wand, grunted something, and began to levitate before me.

  Now, a foot or so above the porch, he turned to me, head cocked, saying, “Well, what’re you waiting for, son? Fire up those wings and let’s move out!” With a boost from the butt of his staff, he was up and over the railing, cackling madly.

  I wondered if there would ever come a time when I would become desensitized to these amazing acts. I really, really hope not. “Hope this works out better than the last time,” I said. Looking up, I realized I was saying it to no one. I looked over the edge, at the increasingly distant form that was Caduceus. I stepped back three or four feet to give some room, touched the writing on the stone and said, “Wings.” Nothing happened, so I tried again. And again. Finally, I decided I wasn’t being commanding enough. I threw my head back, took in a breath, and shouted into the rafters of Caduceus’ porch: “WINGS!”

  It happened suddenly. I felt my body explode in a breath of energy that formed a tight bubble around me for the briefest of seconds, before releasing in a rippling cloud. My personal nuclear blast. The wave of my transformation washed the entire porch and finally dissipated a couple of meters over the treetops. Whoa. I quickly turned to make sure the house was still standing. Check. Whatever that power was, at least it was polite. When I emerged from my cocoon of light, to my extreme delight, I found I had indeed transformed into a butterfly. Okay, that’s not exactly the right visual I’m going for here. Staring at my reflection in the porch windows, I couldn’t help but think how much I really did look like an archetypal angel. After working on the room, I had changed into a new pair of loose-fitting, white drawstring pants Caduceus had bought for me, while I was out cold. My chest was covered in a plain white work shirt. With my awakened aura of light, I had become a blacklight’s wet dream. The topper, the all-out show stopper? Had to be the wings. They were vibrant and alive with light. And they were all me. I would move and they would move. Truly phenomenal. As if commanding an arm or leg, I thought about my wings flicking up, and up they went. I pictured them laid back like a dog’s ears, and back they went. Now it was time to pull out the big guns. With only the slightest of tension, I unfurled my wings to their full reach. Flexing, I raised them over my head like a bird. Oh, man, I thought, they’re freakin’ huge, baby!

  My awe was sourly interrupted by Caduceus’ shout of “QUIT YER POCKET POOL, BOY, AND GET DOWN HERE!”

  Let’s do this, I thought, and spring-boarded onto the rail, using my new gifts for balance. “Too cool,” I whispered. Then, to Caduceus, I asked, “What do I do now?”

  “Try diving, like in a pool. Then, pull up a little. Take ‘er slow ‘n easy till you get the hang of it.”

  On my first night out here, I had thought how much fun it would be to soar effortlessly above those trees. Now I was going to get my chance. Sure hope I don’t die an amnesiac.

  By now, Caduceus had, obviously, tired of my mental back and forth, for the air charged with the same ozone smell from earlier, and I heard an electric zzzzzz coming my way. This time I was ready, and I dodged it lithely. As a result, I was now out from the porch and gliding toward the trees below. “Whooohoooo!” I was actually flying. I glided downward, angling to where Caduceus stood at the stream’s bank. As I approached, I realized something: I had overlooked the chapter where they discussed how to land safely. That was cool, though, because, according to Caduceus, this was all old business for me. I concentrated on my movement and slowed both my breathing and my forward momentum. I brought my legs down and came down at a jog. I stopped just short of plowing into Caduceus. He threw his arms around me and as much of my wings as possible, and squeezed tight. “Hee-hee, what did you think of your first premeditated flight, eh?”

  “That was awesome! Can we do it again,” I responded, rocketing skyward once more, swooping and rolling as I went.

  “Hey now, no showboatin’, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. For now, why don’t you come on down and let’s get you a good tour of these woods, shall we?”

  3

 
“So, you just stumbled across all this, Duce,” I asked as we made our way through the woods alongside the stream. It was going to take me some time to get used to the wings, so I opted to retract them for now.

  “Yep, though the older I get, I can’t help but think, maybe, all this found me. I’ve felt for some time there’s this big, incomprehensible train of change, rolling down the tracks, straight for humanity. I feel like we’re standing at either that train’s starting point or its destination.”

  “Or both,” I suggest, “On account of time’s nature.”

  He studied me for a moment, judging if I was mocking him. When he saw I was sincere, he agreed. “Who knows, kid, who knows? Per’aps it is both. An’ perhaps you know more than you think you know.” He began to walk ahead of me and beckoned me to follow.

  “Okay, really, C, you’ve gotta stop with the fortune cookie stuff,” I addressed his back.

  “Shh!” He scolded abruptly.

  “What,” I whispered, afraid I had offended him.

  “Get over here, and be quiet.” He grabbed my forearm and pulled me to where he stood, next to a tall oak tree.

  I made a what-gesture. He responded with a broad smile and indicated with a tilt of his chin to look behind us. I followed his gaze back the way we had just come and then froze tight. I heard it, too. There were people coming: at least two, but maybe another. I couldn’t be sure. Just then, a man came through the trees. I was both exhilarated and totally unprepared when, right before my eyes, a second Caduceus came walking down the path right at us.

  “Okay, really, C, you’ve gotta stop with the fortune cookie stuff,” came my voice. Hot on the heels of this newcomer, another me stepped into view.

  “What in the fu –”

  “Shh!” Both of the – what’s the plural of Caduceus? – warned in stereo.

  “What,” asked my other self. It was like watching a bad movie you’ve seen too many times. About that time, the other Caduceus pulled the other me towards our hiding spot. Before we could do anything, they had collided, not with us, but through us. Then, they were gone. It was over, and I couldn’t have been more relieved.

  Caduceus punched me at the top of my right arm and said, “You got to love that.”

  “Okay, but only if I’ve gotta,” I replied rubbing the spot where his beefy hand had landed.

  A couple times as we walked, I looked over my shoulder to find the house had gotten smaller and smaller. Finally it had vanished altogether. Here, the stream began to widen and deepen to the point where we could no longer view the smooth stones along the bottom. There was a rushing, babbling sound coming from directly ahead of us, forecasting a waterfall. Caduceus walked to the edge of the cliff and surveyed the valley bellow. “Come. We’ve reached our destination.”

  I paralleled myself with him so I was taking in the same view he was. It was spectacular; it was even more breathtaking than the extended sunset had been. Every ounce of light and color reflected and amplified off of the water, falling through the air. It landed in a cloudbank of froth, a mile below. Surely not that far, I questioned. A vast pool of iridescent waters began where the foam subsided. It was a liquid rainbow of purples, blues, and greens.

  Caduceus was no longer beside me. He must have wandered, while I was transfixed by the view. Wait! What if he’s left me here, and now it’s days later? I could probably look at the shoreline below and watch myself slowly starve to death. Stupid crazy anomaly, I cursed mentally.

  But he hadn’t left. He had simply taken a few paces back before running at the edge full tilt. “Geronimo!” With a spring forward, he bound over the cliff’s side to my left. The last “o” carried forever as he fell like the world’s most elegant rock. Midway through the dive, he turned a little and offered a wave, before stretching his arms overhead once more for the finish. Well, maybe we were that far up. If I could fly, I figured I could dive. Just to be sure, I waited until Caduceus was safely on land before taking my running leap. I probably laughed the entire way down.

  4

  “Dodge, dodge! What’re you doing?” Caduceus had been yelling this, or variations of it, for half an hour or more. I had about had enough, too. It was too bad there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him from heckling me. Believe me, I tried. So far, my training was getting me nowhere. He would throw an energy blast at me; I’d get knocked down. He’d alter his approach and pattern, fire, and I’d go sprawling, once more.

  “Don’t you think I would, if I could,” I snapped.

  “Don’t backtalk me, you clumsy mule; just move.” He blasted me again.

  This is getting me nowhere. I encased my necklace in my left fist, and held my other palm forward. Instantly, a searing burst of flame scorched away from me, toward my irritating trainer. I was finally going to shut him up. He sidestepped, with enough time to fake a yawn, waving his hand over his mouth. As he did so, he bobbed his staff down once and blew a shower of sand and gravel from the shore across my face, arms, and torso. “That actually hurt!” I screeched, indignant.

  “So, you’re ready to quit, then? Have I beaten you? Maybe, you’re done playing in the big kid’s sandbox? Want to go back to the teat?” He grabbed his own chest and gave a brisk squeeze.

  Again, I wrapped the stone in my fist. This time, instead of a stream of energy, I threw a fastball of coiled light directly for his knees. He flicked his wrist and used his staff to deflect the blast into the shimmering pool. I cursed myself, and asked, “What am I doing wrong?” I blasted off and began pacing, frantically, in the misty air.

  “Let’s take a break. I think you’ve earned it.”

  “Earned it? Every single time I try something, you hand it right back at me!”

  “Calm, now. You earned it by not giving up. I verbally and physically assaulted you. I broadcast I was a better combatant than you, and you would have none of it. When I knocked you down, you got back on your feet – or wings – and came at me full force. Take a break, here, by the waters.”

  He waited for me to come to him, before he began his critiquing. “You telegraphed each of your moves, to answer your question. Every time you went for the kill, you’d grab or rub your necklace. I knew to dodge or deflect, appropriately.”

  “But … but I have to do that, to summon the power needed to pull off my moves.” I knew I was on the verge of whining, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Why? Why do you have to be touching it to activate it? Because, I don’t think you do. You can fly by, merely, wearing the thing. And let’s not hastily forget my washer. You were not grasping the stone at that time, were you?”

  “Right. So, wanna play again?”

  “Sit! You are too eager to discount the virtues of a good rest.”

  “Are you kidding,” I asked, and fell back into the warm sand. I removed my shirt, and let the spray from the eternal waterfall coat my exposed skin. “So, how else can I improve?”

  And, so it went. We’d spar a while, and then we’d rest. He’d critique my performance; then, he’d teach me something new, constantly adding onto my routine. Two days passed this way. Those two days could’ve been weeks, for all we could tell from where we were, by the water. Twice, we returned to the house to eat and sleep. Each time, we woke irritated at the time we had wasted, coming out of the slower realm. The second day, we discussed camping in the clearing, where I had been practicing. Ultimately, we agreed some real-world perspective would be needed to have any hope of integrating back, once we were finished.

  Finally, Caduceus raised his palm to graduate me. “I have done all I can for you. I have gone over and over all the warrior routines I know – as well as a few I made up, on the fly. You’ve been a very eager student, and I thank you. I have not had the chance to teach in some time. I’m humbled you, actually, taught me some, along the way, too.”

  “Me?” I was surprised.

  “I know; I was shocked as well.” He smiled at me and offered his hand. “I graduate you. Come with me back to the library and toget
her, we shall work at finding the name for your diploma.” We walked in silence, contemplating the lessons taught and those still to come.

  5

  After I had showered and drank about a gallon and a half of water, I made my way to the library. It wasn’t that big, obviously, but I bet you it’d give any big city library a run for its money. Floor-to-ceiling shelving covered each of the three walls opposite the entryway. In the middle of the room, Caduceus had a couple of eight-foot tables set up with a number of plastic chairs around them. The entire room was immaculate, with the exception of the two sheets of plywood. One was screwed over the hole I put in my ceiling, and the other patched the hole I had made in the roof. A “twofer”, Caduceus called it. The tables were empty, but for a hefty stack of books at the back corner. Caduceus, currently, stood over the stack, with another book in his palm, thumbing through it. His large hands looked comical holding the dainty hardbound volume.

  Noticing me for the first time, he marked his place with one of his beefy fingers and said, “I took the liberty of gathering the essentials for memory recovery and mental training. This one, here, is on repression of traumatic events. This stack’ll start you off right. While you read through it, I’m going to try to find something on that stone o’ yours.”

  He pulled out the chair and handed me the repression book. I took it, replacing his finger with my considerably lesser one. “Thanks, C. Do you really think I can learn who I am by reading all of these ancient texts?”

  “And, not so ancient ones,” he answered, nudging a Dr. Phil self-help book. With that, he went back to his stacks and resumed searching.

  Minutes later, he startled me by slamming a second sizeable stack of books next to the first. From the spines, I could see various books on the occult, religious artifacts, and ancient symbols. I laughed at one of his middle choices. “The Man’s Guide to Jewelry,” I read, pulling it free of the others. “Why do you even own that?”