Forging Truth (The Truth Saga)

by Raymond Masters

  9

  In the living room, the two brothers stood together, talking. They were both, indeed, very young. Caduceus’ hair was darker; the skin of his face was unlined by age. Aesculapus looked much the same as he had when I had stayed with him, head clean-shaven, donning a white robe, rather than dark, but a man in his twenties.

  “Don’t you dare follow me into that kitchen,” said Caduceus. “That’s a quick way to get yerself hurt.”

  “No worries, brother, I’ve learned my lesson. You’ve not let me help you these past couple weeks, so why offer my services now,” Aesculapus said, smiling. “I was simply heading outside till dinnertime. I thought I would sit on the porch, or maybe take a walk and let my thoughts wander a bit. Go make dinner, brother. I am famished.”

  Aesculapus waved to his brother, and headed out. Content he would be occupied with the cooking, Aesculapus floated down beside the stream to begin his nature walk. He followed the stream as it snaked its way swiftly through the ancient woods, toward the waterfall. Where the water fell, so did he, gliding carelessly down. The hem and sleeves of his robe billowed as he made his decent to the patch of land below. With clear intent, he trekked down the shoreline until it dissolved into woods. Undaunted by the foliage, he continued until the forest gave way to beach once more.

  “The cove,” he crowed, “Finally, my curiosity will be sated, and I shall disprove my brother’s misgivings once and for all.” Aesculapus produced six bulbous decanters from a small pouch he had tethered to his rope belt. He bent to one knee and paused, taking in the timeless beauty and serenity of the pool. Then, he slowly filled the containers for future study.

  When he had finished, he started to regain his feet, but was halted by a flash of movement in the water. “What’s this,” he inquired, leaning forward. He peered in for several moments; his only reward was his own expectant visage staring back. “Fah,” he cried, disgusted at his wasted time. “Wasted time at Time’s pool. How ironically unfair,” he chuckled. He had managed to take a few steps toward Caduceus’ house this time. Then, a violent splash from behind sent a torrent of water airborne, splattering his shoulders and the path before him. He whirled on the balls of his feet, anxious at what fantastic sight awaited him.

  Indeed it was fantastic, but the all-encompassing horror of the thing was enough to overpower his senses. It was unlike anything he had ever seen and utterly unexpected. Towering from the pool was a roaring, writhing column of flame. The column simultaneously radiated extreme heat and blistering cold. The pillar’s base encompassed nearly the entirety of the cove, and it tapered as it rose out of sight. The horror came at what Aesculapus observed within the flame. Periodically, faces would jut out and scream at him, mock him, curse him, beg him to help them. Then, they would vanish, swimming back into the inferno.

  “What, what are you,” he implored.

  In response, a sudden wash of faces exploded to the outermost flames, studding the column with accusatory red and orange eyes. They flickered in the breeze. In unison, they spoke: “We are the Twenty-Six, young Aesculapus.”

  “You know me,” he asked. The faces were silent. “Well, for the love of God, what do you want with me?”

  “Our desires have nothing to do with God’s love.” They continued to pierce him with their ember stares.

  Aesculapus was trembling now. “I don’t understand.”

  “We are the Twenty-Six. You will be our salvation.”

  “But, I don’t …” A curl of flame flared from the pillar and smashed into his chest. The fire flickered and crawled over him, yet he remained unburned. As it reached his face, he screamed. He could now feel the flame, though not outwardly; it was inside him. He tossed his hands up in a futile attempt to shield his eyes against the pain.

  “See and learn from the vision of the flame. Behold an undesirable future.”

  So, he gave in to the Twenty-six and their fire, and he did indeed behold an undesirable future.

  10

  Back in the library that served as my interpretation of Aesculapus’ mind, we had reached the bottom of the page. I thought how it was weird enough being inside someone’s head, inside their memories. To complicate the matters, I was gearing up to be inside someone’s memory of a vision of the future. “This is too much,” I protested. But it was a moot point. Caduceus was turning the page, and we were, again, being sucked into the book.

  11

  A young boy – Seth – lay atop of an operating table of sorts. He was in very poor shape. Had the boy not been viewed through the lens of his brother’s memories, he undoubtedly would’ve been unrecognizable. His cheeks were sunken, his skin taut, his frame emaciated. Rigor Mortis had contorted him so the heel of one leg rested a half-inch above the table’s surface.

  At the head of the table, Aesculapus stood vigil over the boy. A stand, covered in various surgical instrumentation, stood ready at his side. A second stand, littered with arcane spell books and mystical bobbles, stood next to it. A dozen robed monks surrounded the table. Presently, Aesculapus motioned for two of them to fetch the rolling stands and follow him around to his brother’s side, where a third monk readied an ancient looking defibrillator.

  Aesculapus addressed the man with the defibrillator: “Thank you, Sullivan, my faithful colleague and friend.” Then, he turned to the rest of the gathered men, and said, “Thanks to each and every one of you. You’ve been with me through all my attempts at returning the dead to life. They’ve all failed, true, but today will be different. Today, I have faith renewed. For I have been told this time will be different. This time will be a success.”

  “Told,” Sullivan asked. “By whom, sir?”

  “Sully, Sully, Sully,” he scolded. “I will forgive this one interruption, because today is a day of celebration, not chastisement. In answer to your question, I have been in communion with a power far greater than you could imagine. This entity – entities? – instructed me in the ways of resurrection.”

  “And you trust this person? This entity?”

  Aesculapus gritted his teeth against Sullivan’s utter insubordination, but he covered quickly with a toothy grin. “With my brother’s life. As you know, dear Sullivan, I have lamented my brother’s tragic death, even unto obsession. It is because of Seth I have dedicated my efforts to solving the death equation.

  “Now, let us get down to the business at hand.” Aesculapus began to arrange the various charms around the corpse. He picked up a bowl of foreign ointment and dabbed it onto the various mystic points of the body: the temples, the heart, the eyes, etc. Returning the bowl to the stand, he said, “Each of you, take up one of these crystal shards, and repeat after me.”

  He began to chant; after each beat, the chorus would echo back from the group. When the chant was on its fourth revolution, a number of things occurred. The candles along the wall were extinguished with a gust of air, transforming the room from dimly lit to a darkened tomb. Then, the darkness dissipated as the distributed crystals began to pulse with light. The light turned steady and began to brighten, and the walls began to quake.

  During the next circuit of the chant, a huge pillar of fire engulfed the stainless steel bed. Faces leered from the flame, catcalling and caterwauling to Aesculapus’ monks.

  The monks began to scramble, uneasily. One lost his grip on his crystal and bolted out the door (probably to go find a Bible and repent, via safety pin). As for Sullivan … “What’s, what is that thing?” It was his final outburst.

  Aesculapus had heard enough. “SILENCE! YOU ARE BUT EXCREMENT IN THE PRESENCE OF THE TWENTY-SIX! KNEEL!” Sullivan shook his head slowly. “Then, allow me to assist you, Sullivan, my faithful colleague and friend.” He forked his fingers at Sullivan, and Sully fell on his face, at the foot of the fiery column. “Hmm, that’s better, but why don’t you get a little closer.” With a flick of his forked hand, he sent the prostrated man flying inside of the hellish fire.

  The remaining men huddled together, frozen with fright. Judging f
rom the smell filling the air, many of their robes were in need of laundering. En masse, they screamed as their leader and assailant turned in their direction. “As for you ten …” Ethereal flames erupted from the evil column, engulfing them. After awhile, the pillar burned out, and the ten stepped forward, born anew.

  “We live to serve the Twenty-six,” one monk said. His eyes had turned black as night.

  “And you shall die to serve them,” Aesculapus crooned. “Now, go forth and make some converts for daddy.”

  When his servants had left, he turned to evaluate his brother’s condition. Though he had faith in his new masters, he was still surprised to see Seth’s body was, now, the pristine body of a child. Scooping him to his chest, Aesculapus began to wail, “Oh, thank you, Lords, thank you. Seth, my beloved brother, wake up. Wake up, Seth.”

  Seth’s eyes fluttered open, and he squinted in the darkness. “Brother,” he asked groggily. “Did I fall asleep?”

  Crying openly, Aesculapus replied, “Yes. You’ve been asleep for far too long.”

  12

  “Ducie – wow – that was way too intense.” I shook my head. “I mean, I would almost feel sorry for the guy, if not for the wholesale slaughter thing.”

  “I still feel sorry for him,” was all Caduceus said, before turning to the next page.

  13

  “You’re insane,” Caduceus fumed.

  “How can you say that? I brought Seth back from the dead. Thanks to me, we can all be together again.”

  “But at what cost, hmm? You made a deal with the devil? Now, you’re indebted to him. I don’t even want to know the hows and the whats of it. You’re not a stupid man, but dammit, you’re a hardheaded one!”

  “Yes, yes I am. When it comes to those I care about, I will do anything to ensure their safety and well-being.”

  Caduceus shoved his brother off balance, as he continued his barrage. “He was dead, Aesculapus, don’t you understand? He had been laid to rest a long time ago, and for all we know, he was in a state of utter harmony!”

  From his place on the floor, Aesculapus cursed, and then countered by saying, “For all we know, he could’ve been in a state of utter nothingness, devoid of any feeling but isolation and the cold, dank grave. I did what was right, and I’d gladly do it again if circumstances dictated.”

  Caduceus slumped his shoulders. “I love you, brother, and I am happy for you. For us. But, I am more than a little squeamish at the prospect of playing God.”

  “Once you see him, Caduceus, all doubt will ebb away. Trust me. Listen, I promised him I would take him to the island and let him tour the statue this afternoon. Join us?”

  “Aye, I suppose so. I’ll admit my interests are peaked.”

  The afternoon came, and introductions were made. Caduceus’ apprehension did seem to be dissipating, somewhat. He was determined to keep an open mind, for the sake of all involved.

  Halfway through the ferry ride, Seth approached his elder brothers, and said, “I don’t feel so hot.” Indeed, his features had become ashen and his eyelids drooped.

  “He doesn’t look so hot, either. Maybe we should head to the mainland,” Caduceus said.

  “Nonsense. Seth wanted to visit the statue, so we’re going. He’s just seasick. I’ll keep an eye on him, to be safe.” But Aesculapus was wrong, fatally wrong. By the time they reached the shore, he had worsened, markedly. He was physically falling apart and appeared to age a year for every passing minute. After Seth had first expressed his sickly feelings, his brothers had pulled a nest of chairs together for him to stretch out on and get comfortable. When it came time for them to disembark, Caduceus bent to help him to his feet.

  Upon seeing Seth’s condition, Caduceus called Aesculapus over for a consultation. “Brother, he is aging, is he not?”

  “It would appear so. But I don’t understand. This cannot be. They promised, if I did their bidding, they would allow me to keep Seth as a reward.”

  Caduceus moaned. “Oh, brother. Evil such as theirs is highly skilled, with words to trick and ensnare the naïve.”

  Aesculapus recoiled at his brother’s wording. “I am not naïve. I knew of their evil, and I chose a perfect pact that would achieve the exact goal I sought.”

  “Did you now? Brother, think about it. They promised you could keep Seth. How many ways might that be interpreted? They could’ve meant you could keep him as one might keep a pet, locked away, never to leave the asylum. Or they could’ve meant you could keep him, regardless of if he stayed alive or died, again. You can never trust such as these.

  “It matters not. Seth is aging before our eyes, and if we don’t do something soon, he will die.”

  Caduceus was speaking softly and being as tactful as possible, but because of the sensitive subject, it still hit Aesculapus the wrong way. “Well, what the hell do you propose we do? You haven’t been happy since I told you about him. I’d say you’ve even been a little jealous.”

  Caduceus hung his head and sighed at the unwarranted accusation. “I assure you I am happy, but I am not jealous. If anything, once I got over my initial trepidation, I rejoiced at having new family to love.”

  “Ha! You would have me to believe that. You had family to love, dear brother, and, more importantly, blood family to return that love.”

  Caduceus tried to reason with him, again. “Brother, please, I implore you. Let’s return to the time stream or to the asylum. Take him home. Find a spell or a potion to reverse the effects of whatever malady has hold of him.”

  “A spell or a potion,” Aesculapus mused. Then, he grabbed Caduceus in the tender meat at the base of his neck, and in a sharp voice cried, “You did this! You, you, you cast a spell on him, forced him to drink of a potion.”

  “Brother, you’re delusional,” Caduceus tried.

  “Why are you in such a hurry to get back to the asylum? You’re planning to lock me up, aren’t you? Put me in one of the old cells, am I right?”

  A uniformed man crossed the deck to where the two stood, shouting above the sleeping boy. “There a problem, sirs? This is your stop, and you’re really scaring the other tourists. So, I’m going to ask again if there’s a problem?”

  Aesculapus shoved the man and turned to continue his rant. The guard went flying into the copse of chairs that served as Seth’s temporary sanctuary.

  Caduceus turned to offer aid, but his brother stopped him with a hard push to the chest. “He is no concern. We’re not done.”

  The guard caught their attention and stopped their quarrel with a whisper. “He’s dead.” He reached for his radio, preparing to alert the statue’s security detail. Before he could call it in, however, Aesculapus toppled him with a blast of telekinesis.

  Caduceus grabbed his arm. “Calm yourself.”

  “He’s dead, brother.” The word dripped with loathing.

  “Stand down, gentlemen,” Ordered the guard, training his pistol on the warring brothers. “This situation doesn’t have to get any worse.”

  Caduceus glared at his brother before turning to comply with the guard, raising his arms palm-out as he did so. Aesculapus was not so inclined, however. Instead, he taunted the man, saying, “Do you wish to shoot somebody, officer?” He stuck out the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, making an L. Then, he turned the L sideways, and pulled his thumb back. Not an L, but a child’s rendition of a pistol. The guard began to ape him, reaching up with his opposite hand to cock his service weapon. Aesculapus held his hand in front of his face, admiring it, and the guard followed suit.

  Caduceus had just enough time to divine what was about to happen, but there was no time to stop it. Aesculapus had killed the man, it just hadn’t happened yet. Unwilling to accept defeat, Caduceus sprang toward the guard, as Aesculapus placed the tip of his finger to the roof of his mouth, and muttered, “Bang.” Caduceus reached the guard in time to catch a spray of scalp and gray matter across his shirt and face.

  “Oh no, looks like you went after the wrong man. H
ad you tried to stop me, dear brother, perhaps things would’ve turned out quite differently.”

  Caduceus summoned his staff and did the one thing he never dreamed he was capable of. A bolt of lightening fizzled through the air, striking his brother’s chest. “What have you done? You’ve given your soul away for nothing. Seth’s dead, and you’ve turned murderer!”

  Aesculapus had been prepared and cast a spell of protection at the blast’s point of impact. As a result, he was knocked overboard, rather than being flash-fried.

  Caduceus followed him over the rail, and splashed next to him in the water. He grabbed Aesculapus by his collar and began hauling him to the shore. Though the guard had been unable to call the situation in, Caduceus could hear the sounds of sirens getting closer. More importantly, he saw a crowd of perhaps a dozen people had gathered at the shore to see what the fuss was about.

  He hadn’t been the only one to notice the onlookers. From Caduceus’ grip, Aesculapus tittered, “Ah, innocents. Doncha love ‘em?” And he forked his hands at the crowd.

  It happened just as quickly as with the murder of the ferry’s security man. The two women closest to the scene went flying through the air, one smacking into a picnic table and the other wrapping around a light pole. Caduceus had to react before the wave of energy could go any further. This time, he didn’t go after the endangered; he went straight for his brother. He willed his staff to encircle Aesculapus’ neck, and then thrust it down, into the depths of the water. Forcing quick strides in the muck, he waded to shore to check on the fallen. He glanced back only once. Then, fixing his face, he turned and soldiered on.