They schooled her, got her nannies to keep her company, and within a few months she knew enough English to communicate her basic needs. But not once could she tell them who she was or where she’d come from.
At least, not at first.
Smythe had a lot of friends. They’d converge on his house, or go to a local lodge. Many times she was brought with him to sit and observe, and Finley had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling the members of the lodge were studying her. No one touched her or hurt her, but the way they observed her gave her chills. Four months into her stay with the Smythes, she finally understood enough halting English to make out snippets of their conversations. What they said scared her to the bone. “Has her memory returned yet? Do we show her the book? Mr. Smythe had always replied, “Not yet.”
One evening Mr. Smythe and his friends had convened in his library. She’d been with them six months and they bade her to sit with them at a table by the fire. She did this with them often, watching them discuss literature, paint or play their musical instruments. But that night seemed different. She recalled an expectancy in the air, and everyone seemed to be on edge. Eventually one of Mr. Smythe’s friends handed her a drawing. With one glance, Finley screamed and fled from the room. Absolute terror had consumed her and it wasn’t the drawing of the strange woman in a tub of water that did it, but the intense horror that seeped into her very core. She felt a need to hide, and it took Mrs. Smythe and the nanny thirty minutes to coax her out from under her bed. That night she started having nightmares. Hellish images of creatures soaring from the skies to eat her. They got so bad the Smythes had the nanny sleep in the bedroom with her so Finley wouldn’t wake up the household with her screams.
Month seven in her stay, Finley woke up from yet another nightmare. In it, she found herself standing in a pool of water and had an insatiable need to run away. To go to the place where she’d woken up without any memory of who she was. In the dream there was a woman with big blue-green eyes and a messy bun piled on the top of her head. Screams filled the air around her and deformed creatures soared across the sky. The woman called out to her… “Finley.”
My name is Finley. Not Beatrice, the name the Smythes gave me so they had something to call me. Other memories tickled the back of her mind. I have to get to the water. That sole thought consumed her.
It was nearly three am, which she knew because she could hear the carriage with the tinkling bell pass by her window which it did every morning at that time. The cobblestone road would cause it to bump wildly and the bells would wake her each night.
Finley quickly dressed and stepped lightly down the staircase, avoiding the steps that creaked. She moved through the large home and out the kitchen door, which dumped into the back alley in a well-to-do-area of London.
All Finley wanted to do was get to the river. That’s where she’d woken up and that’s where her dreams had started to take her. Over and over she’d find herself in her dreams standing by the river’s edge and looking up to the skies, wondering who and what she was.
The wind whipped against her face and she wrapped her woolen cape tighter around her frock. It was a six-block walk to the Thames and she dodged the local constables as they did their morning rounds rousing the homeless to move on so the wealthy of the neighborhood did not have to see them when they began their day. Workers cleaned the roads that were filled with the excrement of humans and horses so the ladies of the day did not have to step in the filth.
Finley got to the river and jumped down to the pier. She’d traversed down to beach level and picked her way among the rocks. Her stockings and leather shoes were soon wet.
Finley stood there for a long time at the edge of the water, wondering what to do, when she saw the strange woman walking along the water’s edge. Finley thought it odd for a well-dressed lady to be holding a baby and strolling here at this time of the morning. The moon was full that night and lit the area and Finley saw the woman’s cape graze against the ground.
Finley inched closer, hiding among the pilings. The baby struggled wildly in the woman’s arms, and Finley could hear its cries.
But the woman wasn’t rocking the baby lovingly to soothe its stress. In fact, she was rough with it and shook the infant repeatedly as she tried to keep her grasp on the infant’s flailing body. Finley watched as the woman disappeared under the pier into the darkness below.
She inched her way until she was just outside the pier and flinched when she heard the baby cry out again. Then she heard a loud smack, like a hand hitting a face and the baby screamed even louder. Then silence. Finley was about to move inside, but instead jumped backwards and hid behind a pylon when she saw shadows and noticed the woman coming out.
She no longer had a baby with her.
The woman had long dark hair, and deep, olive colored skin. Her eyes were wide, though slightly tapered and she had a straight nose. She reminded Finley of one of the Smythes' guests who’d visited from a place called India.
The woman paused to peer down the beach, and when she seemed assured that she was alone, she patted down her cape and moved up the rocky shore. She climbed the steps to the road and disappeared into the morning traffic of horse carriages and buggies along the Thames.
Finley stood there in indecision. Where was the baby? Should she go back and get the constable? Should she tell the Smythes? Should she check it out herself?
Why am I even asking these questions? You’re brave. Go under the pier.
Finley ducked under the dock and entered darkness. It was muddy and smelled like sewage, and she crinkled her nose in distaste. She waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust. Then, a new smell emerged. The distinct, yet familiar, smell of sulfur filled her nostrils and she froze. I know that odor. It reminds me of… home.
Home? A vision of a woman with a large messy bun came to her. A woman who’d been inhabiting her dreams. My mother! A boy’s face stared back at her. I have a brother. His name is… Garrett.
Finley could see the other side of the pier empty to the beach but to her left it ran under the cobblestone road and into a man-made tunnel. Finley made her way over the rocks and found herself in a small cave. She could hardly see anything. She let her eyes adjust again and then gasped when she recognized what stood against the far wall.
It was a tub. Finley inched over and saw it was filled with water. A white lace children’s cap floated in the pool.
I know what this is. It’s a portal. It’s a way to …Aihika. To… home. With a sudden realization so shocking, her memories returned full force and she rocked on her feet. She fell backwards directly into the outstretched arms of a man behind her. She screamed and struggled fiercely, but calmed when the man spoke.
“Beatrice, calm down. It’s just me,” Mr. Smythe said.
Someone lit a lantern, and Finley stared up at him. It was one of Mr. Smythe’s friends. “My name isn’t Beatrice. It’s Finley,” she choked out.
“She’s remembering.” Another man emerged from the shadows with his own candle lantern. Another man joined him and then another until the space under the pier was crowded.
“Do you know what that is… Finley?” Mr. Smythe asked, pointing to the tub.
She tried to find the words. Her English was still poor. “It’s… a… ‘phataloa’. It takes people places.”
At that, the group began to murmur amongst themselves. The words “prophesy” and “it’s all true,” were echoed loudly.
Mr. Smythe pursed his lips and moved to the tub. He glanced at the child’s hat floating inside and turned to Finley. “Now we know where the missing children have gone. Can you turn this on?”
Finley shook her head. “I don’t know how.” She started to tremble.
“Where did they go, Finley?”
“To… other places. Aihika, I think. That’s where… I’m from.”
Mr. Smythe gently patted her shoulders. “That’s right, Finley. We know.” He turned to the other men. “Get a guard to come here and make sure
this place is watched day and night. That woman will no longer be able to use it any longer. If she comes, detain her.”
He turned to Finley. “Come, child. Let’s take you home and get you rested. Now that your memories have returned, your training can begin. We’ll start in Egypt.”
It took over a month for Finley, Mr. Smythe, and some of his friends to travel with her to the Middle East. A local man met them and he’d stared at Finley for a long time before he then took them deep into the desert.
When they arrived at a cave, Finley was awed. They let her lead and watched her carefully as she traversed her way through the long dirt passage cut into the rock. They studied the way she ran her fingers over the strange symbols carved in the wall, and when they got to the secret wall, she asked for water and poured it directly on the etchings. When the secret room opened, no one seemed surprised.
Inside the room lay an empty tub. Another portal. A book rested on a table next to it. Finley inched forwards and opened it up. As she turned the pages, her final memories returned.
“My mother sent me away so I would be safe.” She glanced up and stared at Mr. Smythe. “Who are you really?”
Mr. Smythe bowed his head. “We’re protectors, Finley. We hold this book and this room in wait for someone who will return to their homeworld to save it before it is destroyed.”
She opened her eyes wide. “You knew about Aihika all this time? You knew about me?”
Mr. Smythe nodded. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
#
Finley studied the book Mr. Smythe and his order kept hidden. But, she’d always been a poor student and while bright, she had struggled in school. She’d learned to read, but it took her extreme effort. To help her study, Mr. Smythe had her painstakingly copy the manuscript, page by page, to help her learn and remember how to decipher and read the language. Slowly, as the years went on, she created the book that became known as the Voynich Manuscript on Earth. That was the book she took back with her to England and the original one remained with Mr. Smythe’s order in Egypt, housed in this very room and under their protection.
But, one day while she attended University, the manuscript she’d created was stolen. It eventually slipped into the hands of Wilfrid Voynich. After its theft, Mr. Smythe and his society members did nothing, knowing no one would be able to decipher Finley’s script. While her writing was clear, she was dyslexic and most of what she had written and drawn was riddled with errors, written backwards and upside down. The real manuscript was safe and the secrets to Aihika would be kept until the prophesy told them what to do next. And that would happen when Finley turned thirty-three. The manuscript included an entire page dedicated to that, with instructions on what she should do.
So, twenty-three years after the Smythes found her, they traveled back with her to Egypt and she put herself in stasis. The prophesy claimed someone would eventually come for her and they would leave together to go to Aihika to help stop the Devic war.
The society continued to keep the secrets, watching and waiting, and when hundreds of years later a young boy was discovered in America speaking the same language as Finley had, they reached out to him.
But they failed the first time. His mother refused to divulge the secrets. They watched him grow, and let him evolve, and slowly more clues were given to him until his memories began to return. Eventually, at the age of thirty-three, he made it to Egypt.
And that’s when Desmond found Finley.
#
Desmond was at Finley’s ear, speaking quietly so as not to wake the child. She hadn’t even paid attention to him, so engrossed was she in her memories. “Camp is ready.”
He’d made a small fire, cooked a small animal he’d caught for their dinner, and he and Finley ate quietly. The child slept on her lap and woke once. Finley changed her clothing, made a makeshift diaper, and gave the girl some food and water before she quickly fell back asleep again. Finley and Desmond slept as well, as soon as they went into the two-man tent they shared. The little girl was snuggled between them protectively. At least the tent would shield them from the fiery ash that occasionally showered down from the battles above. By morning’s light they ate, and began walking again.
They moved through the brush and around a bend, and the ruins of Rin Mar stood before them. It had once been a beautiful city.
Desmond sighed. “This reminds me of a fairytale land that illustrators on Earth created to resemble their versions of cities of the future. But now it’s in ruins just like in all the movies about apocalyptic futures.”
Finley said nothing. Desmond talked about a lot about things she didn’t entirely understand, like movies and phones.
“Finley, it’s amazing how close to real life the artists on Earth came to the descriptions of these cities, as if someone had also once skipped worlds and experienced it firsthand.”
“They must have, Desmond, though I don’t know where all of the portals are. It’s possible we were the only ones to make it back. I only know of the others who returned from Prithvi or from Xanadu.”
Desmond nodded. “I guess we are the lucky ones,” he said grimly. They picked their way through the wrecked city.
Rin Mar was nothing like its former glory. Even as a child, Finley had seen it start to come to ruin, but she remembered the pictures of the grand buildings, the walkways that seemed to stretch to the sky, and spiraled architecture built to boggle the mind. Now nothing but piles of debris and wreckage remained. A dusty, worn-down, destroyed world. The land around their feet was filled with thick gray ash from the battles from above, and their footsteps created little puffs of smoke when they walked. The sooty air at times choked them and made the toddler sneeze and cry out in pain.
Lightning continued to illuminate the sky and each time, embers of fiery cinders rained down around them.
“The smell reminds me of fireworks on the Fourth of July,” Desmond said. When she stared at him quizzically, he explained. “The Fourth of July is when Americans celebrate their adoption of the Declaration of Independence in 1776. When they officially declared themselves no longer part of the British Empire.
Finley didn’t know about this event. She’d already gone into stasis by then.
Another flash of lightning brightened the sky, followed by the crash of thunder. The child flinched. Desmond pursed his lips into a thin line. “Let’s set her arm and stabilize it so it doesn’t hurt her more than it has to.”
He spied the remains of a wooden building. As if reading his mind, Finley jumped over to the piles of debris and sifted until she found pieces of wood they could use as a split.
Finley handed him two small planks.
“This is perfect, Finn. Get me the string from the sack.” The child began to squirm and cry but Desmond gently held her in place while Finley grabbed the string and secured her arm between the two pieces of wood. While it was not perfect, she would be protected from anything further jarring her arm until a doctor could set it better at camp.
Once the splint was on, Desmond removed a small bracelet from his pocket and placed it around the little girl’s uninjured wrist. It was an opal charm bracelet.
“Where did you get that?” Finley asked, amazed.
“The Dwarves. They’re making more for us. I can’t believe I forgot to put it on until now.” She could hear the frustration in his tone. Opals had the power to render children’s souls invisible so that the Garudas could not seek them out. It was a powerful gem whose abilities apparently stretched across all realms. Desmond had told her how they worked on Earth for Kelsey as well. It was one of the few times he’d talked about her.
Finley huffed. “The Dwarves. It’s the least they can do. They’ve known about this ability for how many years now, and they’re only just telling us now?”
“Apparently they’ve known about the power of the opals for as long as the war has been going on,” Desmond said in disgust.
He glanced up and he pursed his lips. The sky was now lit with st
reaks of yellow and green. That meant one thing. The Asuras were battling another of the Four Great Kings and winning. This wasn’t good. The Asuras had already left level one and now were on level two of the mountain in the Cāturmahārājika heaven where the Four Heavenly Kings resided with their retinue of Dwarves, Fairies, Goblins and Dragons. If the Asuras beat them back and made it to the top level where the Trāyastriṃśa Devas resided, it would mean annihilation for every Aihikian. The Asuras had vowed to destroy the land below them completely and enslave every single living inhabitant because the Asuras were a violent race who felt they were wronged. They had once lived within the gardens and palaces at the top of the mountain, but were tricked by the Trāyastriṃśa Devas and now were forced to live on the lowest level of the mountain. They would do anything in their power to get back up to the top where they felt they rightfully belonged. And, they were gaining. Desmond lived in dread of seeing the colors of the last two kings light the night sky. If red and blue lit up the sky, then the battle was nearly over. They’d already defeated the north and south kings.
Thank God the Dwarves finally offered opals in exchange for amnesty. At the very least, they could hide the children with them. It enraged Desmond and Finley that the dwarves had to be defeated before they would help the humans.
The Call of Mount Sumeru Page 10
