And he could see the bars. For the first time in days, he could see the bars, because there was a light, a blue hued light that backlit the bars, and though the glow may have been soft, that light made Tito wince with a slight pain that pinched behind his eyes into the middle of his brain.
Tito batted his eyes to adjust to the not-bright light.
There was someone walking out in the corridor of the cellblock. Someone that he could not yet see with a faint blue flashlight, but as the sounds of the steps moved closer from the right, the dim blue haze appeared to lightly bounce around to the insides of the bullpens, sometimes pulling the light away from the front of his, only briefly, and then returning forward.
Then, when the walker appeared at the right edge of the cell, Tito saw that the light was not coming from an ordinary flashlight at all. The light appeared to be not one, but two flashlights fixed into a set of goggles. Tito could plainly see two burning cyan dots, as if the light was fueled with small torches.
The walker stopped and rotated in a circle, taking in all of the dark cellblock. The silhouettes of those on the floor in front of Tito lit up as the walker’s gaze passed.
“About time they sent somebody,” a raspy voice lashed out at the walker.
The walker’s head pivoted back to the direction of the voice. The shadow of the man in the far left corner of Tito’s cell glowed blue.
“You gonna let us out or what?” the man asked the walker with a rasp. “I’m tired of this shit.”
The pause probably didn’t last long, but Tito felt it did. Time had left him long ago.
And then the walker with the glowing goggles did speak, and the hair on Tito’s scalp rose, and his skin crawled. The voice was not that of a man, but the echo of a thousand men. Tito imagined the walker wore full headgear with those goggles, and that his voice was somehow synthesized because he didn’t sound right, didn’t sound human at all.
“We have come for you,” the walker said. “There is a new order, a new prince, and you have a new role to play.”
“That’s bullshit,” the man in Tito’s cell said. “Quit playing games and let us out.”
The walker continued, “You can come with us to serve the Blue Prince, or you can stay here.”
The man in the front of the cell stood up. From his silhouette, Tito could see he was tall, six-five maybe. “I say forget you. I don’t need a new boss. Now set me free!”
For another long moment, the walker said nothing.
“C’mon, man!” the tall man yelled as he grabbed the bars.
“As you wish,” the walker said. And then he raised his right hand and shot the tall, loud man with some kind of electric ray gun.
The tall man’s entire body lit up neon blue from the inside, a giant light bulb, a human light bulb. The frame of the large man convulsed and vibrated against the bars and the smell of barbeque flooded the cell.
And then, as quickly as he lit up, the man went dark and crumpled to the shadowy floor.
The cellblock was chill quiet—those breathes Tito’d been listening to frozen still.
Then, from the bullpen across the corridor, a young man yelled, “I’ll come.”
And then another yelled “I’m with ya,” and another, and then Tito pushed himself upright on the bench, raised his hand high into the darkness, joined in the chorus and yelled with a throat so dry he barely recognized it as his own, “Me! I’ll come too!”
~*~
BLOOM
S. Elliot Brandis
~*~
The bloom of jellyfish pulsed with light as it crowded the shoreline. They numbered in their thousands, or possibly more, but Elina could not tell where one finished and the next began. To her, the ocean had become thick and luminous, a living being in its own right. Blue light saturated her vision, filling her with fear and wonder. This was Elina’s first bonding ceremony. She’d had her first blood that year and, as an adult of the colony, was finally permitted to attend. Years of booming sermons from elders and whispered rumors from friends had not prepared her for this moment. She watched on with a mind full of questions and a heart full of hope.
Every adult of the island was in attendance, standing side by side in the shape of an inverted V. A young woman dressed in white stood at its peak. Elina recognized her from the morning’s ritual. Each woman of marrying age in the town had walked up to the sacred fire and tossed in a scroll. Each time the scroll had burned black. That is until Ruth’s turn, when a puff of white smoke had risen from the ashes. She had been chosen. That night she would join the Gods.
Ruth began her walk towards the shore, her long white dress trailing along the soft sand behind her. The crowd stood silent, their faces flickering in the blue light of the ocean. She paused when she reached the shoreline. Usually, the waters swelled with waves and breaks, but tonight they were sedate. The ocean rolled in a gentle rhythm, the jellyfish rising and falling with each beat. The water lapped softly at Ruth’s feet. She looked out into its depths.
“Gods of our ancestors, accept my soul. I give myself unto you so that we can be saved.”
Ruth moved forward and the jellyfish parted. With each step, the water rose higher up her body. A pocket of darkness followed her journey as the bloom opened to allow her passage. When the water reached her chest, she paused.
“Taste our goodness and know that we’re true. In my purity, you will know our mind.”
Ruth drew a deep breath and lowered herself into the dark water. Her head sunk beneath its surface, leaving only a ripple. Elina watched as the pocket of darkness grew smaller and smaller until only light remained. The wind on the beach grew louder, whipping her bare ankles with sand, yet Elina no longer felt cold. The lights of the ocean began to vanish. First at the center, where Ruth had once stood, and then in a slow wave out to the edges. Within a few seconds, they were gone. The crowd walked back to the village in perfect darkness. The sacrifice had been made. The Gods were pleased.
That night was a celebration. The anxiety that had defined the village’s character in the lead up to the bonding ceremony had lifted. Exuberance filled its place. Elina felt the life blooming all around her, but deep in her heart fear still remained. There was so much she didn’t yet understand, so many questions still to ask, but now was not a time for reflection.
The village, the only one on the island, was made up of dwellings of wood, straw, and clay. In its center lay the temple, its sacred fire burning strong and bright. It was always at its strongest after a bonding ceremony. A smoldering core of the deepest red joined the usual flickers of orange and yellow. It was the heart of the celebration. Children played in the borders between light and dark, weaving between dwellings as they chased each other down. The adults drank, ate, and laughed, and watched the dancing of the debutantes beside the fire. That night, the young women whose scrolls had burned black would be coupled for marriage. Next Spring, Elina would be one of them. That is unless the fire chose her.
After a time, the laughter grew quiet and the dancing grew slow. The women paired with men and sat silently by the fire, staring into its depths for glimmers of the future that lay ahead of them. The very old and very young returned to their homes for rest. They were safe for another year.
~*~
In the days that followed, Elina asked many questions of the elders. They were met with riddles, spoken in a dead tongue she could barely understand. Don’t be impatient, her mother urged her, soon you will know it all. The summer monsoon will reveal all secrets.
In the peak of summer, the rains were frequent. The earth was hot and the air was humid. For days, thick rain suffocated the island, bringing activity to a halt. Elina sat outside their hut and watched it fall, wondering if it would ever cease. Sheets of water flowed off the thatched roof and crashed down on her outstretched legs. She liked the rain, but others feared it. They stayed inside and played games with smooth stones and prayed for the roof to hold. Elina rarely joined them.
One morning, Elina sat sta
ring out into the rain as she thought, only able to see a few feet ahead, the rain helping her concentrate. The outline of a figure, small and hunched, appeared on the boundary of her vision. At first, she was not sure whether it was real or imagined, but as it moved slowly forward, her mind grew surer. It was Thell, the eldest woman in the village, her clothes wet and transparent. The fabric stuck fast to her frame, revealing its jutted edges. Elina rose, fearing for Thell’s health, and ran out to meet her. She wrapped an arm around her bony shoulders, thinking of the right words to say.
Thell smiled. “Come with me, young one. I have much to show you”.
The village was located high on the side of the island, but together they walked higher still. The terrain grew steep and rocky while Thell was slow and frail. It took her an age to progress up the mountain, the rain beating down heavily all the while. Water cascaded down the rock slopes, making them slippery underfoot. Thell shushed away Elina’s worries and led them forward patiently.
They reached a plateau at the peak of the island. It stretched out for hundreds of meters, the land flat and barren. Elina wondered if they could build a village here. The ground was smooth and hard. They stopped. Elina waited for Thell to speak, but instead she raised an arm and pointed. Ahead of them, the ground had been tilled. It had settled over many years, but the scarring of the earth was visible. It would have taken many strong men, and many long years, to turn that hard earth and stone. It was the same again for rows and rows—long strips, each marked with monuments three feet apart. Elina edged slowly closer. They were yellow and weather-beaten, and of all different sizes, but each was the skull of a human. A chill ran through her bones.
“What is this place?” Elina asked, her voice trembling.
Thell slowly made her way over. When she reached Elina she spoke. “These are the ancestors of our village.” She pointed at a skull. “That is my father. When I was a girl, much younger than you are now, this island was very different. There was no council of elders. A single man controlled the island. His name was Paretos. One night I saw him beat my mother within an inch of her life. I’m sure that was not the worst of his evils. Things were very dark back then.” Thell’s words were quiet against the roar of heavy rain. Elina leaned in close to hear, wrapping an arm around her brittle waist.
“My father was one of only a few men, forced to work long hours at sea to catch the fish that fed us. Each morning, he would rise with the sun and begin the long walk to the shore. In those days, the ocean was wild and vicious, the waves would lash violently at the men’s canoes. Many days, not all who departed returned.”
“One night, as I lay on my mother’s lap feigning sleep, I heard the villagers talk in whispers. They said Paretos possessed a dark power that drew the ire of the Gods. There had once been as many men in the village as women, but he’d slain them in numbers. They had loathed what he was becoming and revolted against his control, but there was only one possible outcome. My father took no part—his wife was with child, so he dared not join them.”
Thell paused for a time to collect her thoughts, or perhaps just to give Elina time to process her words. Elina shivered violently. Thell’s old body offered no warmth.
“In the years that passed, the ocean grew madder. Men began to die at sea in scores. Until finally it had endured enough. In the peak of the summer monsoon, the ocean unleashed its fury. First, the tides drained away, leaving miles of barren sand where the ocean had been. Dead sea creatures were stranded, rotting in the sun. Black flies emerged in clouds. Then the waters came crashing back. The island was pummeled by the greatest of waves. The rain and lighting lasted for days. When the water subsided, nothing remained of the village.”
Thell’s bottom lip trembled as she spoke. Elina felt a horrible pain throb in the depths of her heart. Perhaps it had always been there.
“How did you survive? How did our people survive?” asked Elina.
“Well,” Thell replied, a wry smiling breaking across her face. “We held school on the far side of the mountain. Paretos could not stand to look at the faces of the young, so each day he sent us away. Each morning we walked to a cave on the distant side of the island. It was ancient and cold, but there our teacher would take us through our lessons in peace. She was an old woman, too frail to receive the wrath of Paretos, or perhaps just too wise to care. She was very gentle with us, but when she saw the waters drain, she yelled to run as fast as we could manage and seek shelter in the cave. The wave struck before she joined us, but we were saved.”
“And you rebuilt the village? Children?”
“In time, yes, we started again. But that is another story.” Thell smiled. “But now you must know why we bond with the sea. Each year it sends a bloom to judge our worth. If the soul it receives is kind and pure, it knows the darkness has not befallen us twice. This year it could be you, but know that this is no punishment. This is not a sacrifice to fear, but a wonderful gift. You become one with the ocean. It will know you and, by that, it will know us. It keeps us one with the Gods and, in turn, they keep us safe.”
Elina stared silently at the lines of graves. She had no concept as to their number. There were more dead in that graveyard than there were people in the village, yet they were surely but a fraction of the fallen. Would not the majority have been washed away? Elina shuddered at the thought.
Thell said little more that day. The speech had drained much of the life from her already. After a time, they returned to the village side by side.
~*~
The more Elina thought about the answers she’d been given, the more questions she stumbled across. She trusted Thell but did not know whether the story was history or myth. The pieces fit together but there were many mysteries lurking between their gaps. Again, the elders gave cryptic responses to her queries. You’ve been told the story of our people, they said, and you know inside you that it is true.
When the rains finally halted, Elina began to search out answers for herself. In the mornings, she and the other women would have lessons, learning to braid, cook, and sew, but in the afternoons, she would wander beyond the confines of the village. It was unusual for the women to go far beyond its boundaries, so Elina was patient and careful. While the others got together or tended to their homes, she would drift amongst the shadows and venture off alone.
She returned to the peak of the mountain, where the graves lay in rows, but there was nothing more to see. It filled her with sorrow and loss. Gradually, she explored the far side of the island. Here, the flora was thick and wild. Thickets and vines made it hard going, but Elina persevered, traversing it bit by bit. It took her many expeditions, spread across many days, to find what she was looking for, but once she found it, she was sure—it was the cave from Thell’s story. The paths leading to it had long since overgrown, but the cave itself had an aura she could not deny. At first, it seemed smaller than she had imagined, perhaps only three feet high and five feet wide, but inside it grew expansive. The walls were damp and ancient, but the markings on them were unmistakable. They were the etchings of children, names and counts, of many years ago. It was what Elina was looking for, but it failed to satiate her curiosity. So one part of the myth was true? But what of Paretos, what of the ocean?
She returned to the village under the shelter of the evening’s darkness. As she made her way between two dwellings, a silhouette emerged from the shadows. Elina squinted. The figure was small and unimposing.
“Where do you go?” a voice asked quietly. It was Ciara, a delicate girl from her lessons. She was the same age as Elina and would marry beside her the coming year, unless the fire chose her.
“I’ve been out of the village,” Elina replied. “There are some things I need to find out.”
Ciara looked at her anxiously, her face coming into focus as Elina’s eyes adjusted to the light. “Did Thell not talk with you? I thought she spoke to us all.”
“No, she did.” Elina hadn’t been entirely sure the others had been told. Nobody else
seemed willing to talk about it, and none showed her curiosity to know more. “But I wanted to find some things out for myself. Do you not wonder?”
“You must trust in the wisdom of the elders. You see how safe our village is, how peaceful things have become. Have faith. Trust the ocean to keep us safe. The bloom sees the love in our hearts.”
At that moment, Elina realized something she’d subconsciously known all along: Ciara would be chosen. Her innocence was undeniable. She was naïve, yes, but trusting and wholesome. Elina burned with jealousy, not because of her purity and beauty but because she would learn the truth. At the bonding ceremony, she’d see what was real. And yet she didn’t want to know. She was happy as things were. It wasn’t fair.
~*~
The more Elina thought this over, the more the thought festered inside her. Her answers were not on this island but in the ocean. She’d revisited the cave on three separate occasions, but it held no further secrets. At nights, she often visited the beach, walking along its length or staring out at the sea, but it had nothing to say. The ocean was calm and the waves rolled gently. Elina sat near the shore, digging her feet into the wet sand. She always looked out for the jellyfish, hoping to catch a glimpse of one on the horizon—a blue pinprick drifting with the tide—but the ocean showed no signs.
On the morning of the bonding ceremony, the eligible women gathered at the temple, ready for the selection ritual. The council of elders gave them each a sheet of parchment and a shell of ink, instructing the girls to write down a prayer from the depths of their hearts. Elina sat down next to Ciara and offered her a warm smile.
“What a lovely day for the ceremony,” Elina said. She carefully placed her shell next to Ciara’s, which sat precariously on the log. “You should be careful with your ink. You don’t want it to spill.” Elina picked up her own shell of ink and handed it to her. Ciara thanked her kindly.
Tales from the Canyons of the Damned: Omnibus Page 9
