by Kate Sander
“I will follow you,” Jules said.
Titus took the lead. The castle was quiet, eerily so. No guards, no bodies. Nothing. No one.
They ran through open halls and roads to the center of the castle where it opened to the main gardens and fountain. Directly ahead was the main chambers where the council was held and where the personal chambers of the King and Queen were kept. A single gallows was set up right underneath the balcony of the council chamber. The noose was empty but fluttering ominously in the wind.
“Nice of you to join us!” a voice boomed loudly across the open terrace. Titus and Jules skidded to a stop. The voice was louder than anything they had ever heard or was humanly possible. It reverberated off the surrounding walls. Titus covered his ears with his hands.
“We’ve been waiting for you!” the voice boomed.
Jules pointed. There were three men on the outer balcony across the open field. Dark-skinned, skinny Eli was up there. Jules could recognize his posture anywhere. There was a large man beside him in robes of gold and purple. In the center was the Mad King. He wasn’t hard to spot, with his black clothes and crown sitting stupidly on his head.
“Zoya,” Jule mouthed. Titus nodded his agreement.
“You have a choice,” the voice echoed around them. “You can join the majestic Ampulex. You can bow to me and to Lord Roald and Lady Malin. Or you can flee at your own risk. Your friend here has already made his choice.”
Eli nodded and stood beside the large man, unflinching.
“Your King refused to kneel!” the man yelled. “He had made a deal and refuses to honor his part. Lady Malin does not allow this kind of insubordination.”
The King lurched forward. His movements were jerky, unnatural. Like he was a puppet on strings. He put a noose around his own neck.
“She hates to do this, but a slight to my lady’s honor is of the upmost treason!” the voice echoed so loudly it hurt Jules’ ears. He covered them with his hands. He watched in horror as the King lurched his way to the edge of the balcony.
“Eli!” Jules yelled. His voice didn’t carry. He watched as the King threw himself over the railing. He tumbled over the balcony. He was stopped right before the ground by the noose attached to the balcony snapping his neck. The crown fell from his head and landed with a thud on the ground beneath him.
Eli stayed beside the man with the booming voice, eyes staring straight forward, unmoving. Seemingly unaffected as the King killed himself.
Titus went to rush forward.
“No!” Jules said, grabbing his arm. “No! He’s gone. Leave the crown. Titus we need to get out of here!”
Titus didn’t struggle. He allowed Jules to pull him away from the grisly scene. They turned and fled, leaving Eli to his fate behind them.
The dead King swayed on the rope as a gust of wind blew by. Jules heard the creak of the rope as they fled.
23
Ujarak
October 30, 210, 13:45
Location: Artesia, Carabesh
Ujarak sat in the prison made of sandstone, picking his fingernails with a small piece of wood he had found.
He was inside a cage made of steel bars. They kept him in comfort, with a blanket and a place to relieve himself. They fed him three times a day and even allowed him to go outside and see the sun twice a day (under close supervision, of course).
Prison in Carabesh was a luxury compared to current Langundo living conditions.
He knew by the reaction of the President that his sacrifice had done its job. Prince Sol was now owed a life debt by the President of Carabesh. Ujarak just hoped that the kid didn’t blow this golden opportunity.
He tried to keep his mind off the last time he saw her. When she was leaving him to go north, following the guidance of the Shaman. Ujarak had intercepted her on her attempt to flee the village without being seen. He saw the scene like it was happening in front of him, all over again. It was the day his life changed forever.
He hiked hard up the mountain, puffing. He was exhausted from the battle. Emotionally and physically. Watching Senka die was harder than any of his physical exhaustion. Watching how it broke Tory was worse. He would never forget her once bright eyes, sunken and ghostly as they stared at her dead friend on the battlefield.
Ujarak knew that the Shaman was sending her over the mountain alone. He’d heard their conversation in her house. He wanted to see her one last time.
He crashed straight upwards through the underbrush, completely avoiding the path. He needed to make his own path to cut her off.
He came upon the path. His chest was heaving and he stumbled slightly. He was more tired than he thought. He sat beside the path, slowing his breathing and his pounding heartbeat, settling himself.
He heard her coming, whispering away to someone. Ujarak’s face fell. He was sure Tory had gone insane in the battle. She was talking to thin air.
She emerged from the darkness. The sun had set, the only light coming from the moon and the flickering of funeral pyres burning in their town below.
She stopped and stared at him. He stood and rushed to her, gathering her in his arms.
She sobbed something incomprehensible into his shoulder. He held her. He was taking note of the feeling of her body. He had held it so many times before but this time would be the last. He needed to remember everything about her. He breathed deeply, the floral smell of her hair assaulting his senses.
He held her until she pulled away.
“I have to go,” Tory said, looking up at his face.
“I know,” he said gruffly.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be. I know you need to do this.”
“Be safe,” Tory said. “Take care of them.”
“Always. Take care of yourself, love. I will wait for you in this life.”
“And the next,” she whispered and pulled him into a kiss. Their words, their motto, muttered to each other in the darkest and lightest of times.
Ujarak lost himself in her kiss. Then, gently, always gently, he pushed her away. She was looking for an excuse to stay. He couldn’t give it to her.
“Don’t look back,” he said gruffly, softly brushing her hair out of her face. “You don’t do well when you look back.”
Tory gave him a stiff nod. She squared her shoulders and continued up the path. North, over the mountain, into the unknown.
Ujarak watched her go. He made sure she turned the corner without looking back at him. He wasn’t sure if he could let her go a second time. He waited for ages then turned away.
There, he saw his town, Ismat, glowing at the base of the mountain. Ismat was on fire! He ran down the mountain, crashing through the brush.
He’d made a promise to Tory to take care of their family. One he wouldn’t break.
Ujarak pulled himself out of the memory. He didn’t need to relive his mad dash to Ismat and pulling Jules from the burning building. The scars on his forearms from the burns were reminder enough.
He sat picking his fingernails when he felt her presence. He smelled the floral scent of her hair first. He was startled but he didn’t want to look up, to ruin it in case it was his imagination. He couldn’t fight the urge for long and he looked for her. Tory was standing just outside the bars of his prison, staring at him. His heart melted. He hoped this meant she was still alive, not dead and cursed to walk the world as a ghost. He flashed her a smile, one he saved for her. She took a step back. She obviously hadn’t expected him to be able to see her. They locked eyes. I hope you’re alive, love, he thought to her, I hope you’re happy and you’ve found what you are looking for.
He broke eye contact and smiled, examining his fingernails. He decided to take the weird occurrence as a good sign. When he looked back up, Tory was gone, but another woman, a Melanthios, was staring at him intently,
Ujarak knew she was a ghost. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. She was tall and skinny and really quite beautiful. Her eyes were black. There were no whites
, just wall to wall black.
“Can I help you?” he asked her.
“Tory sent me,” she answered.
“I figured. I just saw her, you know.”
“Time is a funny thing in this abyss,” the woman said. “She saw you in a vision almost two days ago.”
“So she’s alive?”
The woman nodded, “My name is Black Eyes.”
“Fitting.”
The woman smiled, “I can see why she fell for you. You’re very direct.”
Ujarak shrugged.
The woman stepped forward and reached for the keys to his cell hanging on a hook. They were kept close to the cell, but far enough away that Ujarak would never be able to reach them. The woman’s hand passed right through the keys but they jingled on their hook. She sighed, made a fist, and swung up hard. Her hand passed through the keys again but they jiggled enough that they were thrown off the hook. They landed just within Ujarak’s reach.
“Go east,” Black Eyes said.
“Over the end of the world?” Ujarak asked. He wasn’t questioning Tory, he would do whatever she asked even if it meant certain death. He just didn’t want to get it wrong.
“Yes, over the end of the world. Then keep going east.”
“What am I looking for?”
Black Eyes smiled at him, “You’ll know it when you find it.” She winked at him, snapped her fingers and disappeared from the prison.
Ujarak shook his head. Go east, over the end of the world, then keep going east. And he will know what he was looking for when he found it.
His love was a complicated woman.
Part III
"Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.” – Bhagavad Gita, spoken by J. Robert Oppenheimer after he was instrumental in creating the first atomic bomb.
24
Senka
October 30, 2023, 06:29
Location: Toronto, Canada.
She walked through the morning fog, head down, carefully picking her way through the graves.
It was rude to step on the dead.
The stark yellow daisies unceremoniously held in her left hand contrasted heavily with the foggy morning.
Leo padded softly behind her through the graves, following her lead. He wouldn’t step on the dead either.
The fog started to clear with the rise of the sun and she saw Carter’s hulking frame kneeling in the distance. She would go to him later. He had different demons than she had. She shook her head. They had died so close together. It wasn’t fair to Carter. Melanie first, then weeks later Tomo.
She stopped in front of the tombstone.
The old wilted daisies from the week before slouched towards the ground, dew dripping onto her friend’s grave. Senka removed them and put the new ones in their spot. She needed Tomo’s grave to have daisies. Tomo was always bright and sunny, just like daisies.
She looked at the headstone and had an immediate flashback to the day Tomo had died.
“Carter, call off the airstrike!” she yelled. She was on a stolen dirt bike, chasing the truck Tomo was in through the jungle. She was far behind. Branches tore at her face and arms. She needed to catch up. The truck disappeared in front of her over a ridge.
She vaguely heard Carter’s reply through her earpiece, “I can’t! There’s a communication breakdown. Sen, get out of there!”
She launched the dirt bike over the ridge to see the truck hurled into the air in an explosion of flames and a cacophony of sound. She heard concussion of the CF-18 fighter jet flying overhead as she screamed.
Leo gently licked her hand and the flashback changed. She tried to stop it but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to remember. But she couldn’t stop the spiral into her own subconscious.
Lizzie was crying alone in her recovery room. Her body was tiny and fragile. The four years she had spent in a coma had eaten her muscle away, leaving a skeleton wrapped in pale skin. She’d only been awake a week and she hated her life.
She knew it was worse because she had been so fit, so strong, in her dreams. She had told everyone about what she had seen in her dreams, but no one believed her. It had felt so real. But everyone said there was no way it could have happened. She had remained in a coma after the accident. Her name was Elizabeth Brighton, not Senka. She found herself ignoring people when they called her. She didn’t know who she was anymore.
She heard a soft knock on her door and she quickly tried to wipe the tears away. Her nurse, Amanda, walked through the door and closed it softly behind her. She crossed the room and sat at the foot of Lizzie’s hospital bed.
“Lizzie,” Amanda said, “why are you so upset?”
“I’m weak,” she replied. “I used to be strong but I’m so weak.”
“That’s not it.”
Amanda waited patiently as she watched Lizzie struggle.
“No one believes me!” Lizzie finally exploded. “I don’t even know if I believe me. I saw and did and went through incredible things! And no one believes me. I was tortured in prison! I went to war! I killed a false King! Then I wake up here and everyone is calling me a name I don’t recognize. My body is weak! I used to train it daily. Now I can’t even stand without help!” she was yelling, she couldn’t help it. Amanda waited patiently. “Oh and by the way my tongue was cut out a year ago! A whole year! Why can I speak?”
Amanda shrugged, “I believe you,” she said casually, examining a long red fingernail.
Lizzie gaped at her.
“You’re not the only one. Zoya have been around for thousands of years.”
Lizzie was too surprised to speak. Amanda held out a card. Lizzie took it and looked at it. It was cream, with a bright green symbol embossed on it. A world surrounded by a shield, with a sword and Z on the hilt.
Lizzie took it and looked at it stunned. She didn’t know what to think.
“If you want in, the plane leaves Friday morning from the Winnipeg airport. Go to the Firstline Canadian Air counter at eight in the morning and show this card to Sandra. She will tell you what to do.”
Amanda stood up and headed for the door, “Senka, you need to be discrete. Tell your family it’s a special camp for physio. I’ll corroborate. They won’t ask any questions.”
Senka balked at someone calling her by her real name. She was flipping the card over in her hand. The shiny green symbol kept drawing her in.
“What am I in for?” she asked and looked up. Amanda was nowhere to be seen. If she didn’t have the card she would have sworn she was in another dream. But she did have the card. It was thick and tangible.
She didn’t need to know what she was in for, she just knew that she was in.
The next few days flew by in a blur. She was nervous. The lie was a non-event with her family. Her mother and older brother believed her without question. Senka felt bad, but she kept reminding herself that she needed this. Amanda believed her. That’s all that mattered.
With Amanda reminding her of her real name all traces of Lizzie disappeared for good. She was Senka. She would make herself strong again.
She made her way to the airport by herself. Her mother and brother wanted to come but Senka had said that she needed to do it alone. She was twenty, she needed to act like it.
She made her way slowly to the main terminal at the airport. She was out of breath by the time she made it to the Firstline Canadian Air counter. Her half empty backpack felt heavy. She shook a bit when she walked and limped heavily on her right leg. She felt like a mess.
She looked at her watch. It was seven thirty, she was early. There was no line and a lonely man guarded a computer behind the counter. Senka doubted this was Sandra. She looked around nervously and found a bench with a clear view of the ticket counter. She dropped her backpack, the only baggage she had, at her feet. She didn’t know what to pack so she had packed a little of everything.
She sat and watched the line for a while and noticed a few other Firstline Canadian Air employees had filtered out to man the computers. W
hen it was ten to eight, she rose and limped to the growing line. There must be a plane leaving soon.
She waited nervously, alternating between touching the embossed card in her pocket and grabbing for the ring on the chain around her neck. James had told her that a nurse must have put it in her hand when she was sick. She hoped he was wrong.
That’s why she was in. She needed him to be wrong. She needed the ring around her neck, the golden lion with the ruby eye, to belong to Jules.
Senka limped her way to the front and a new Firstline Canadian Air employee appeared from the back.
“Next in line, please!” she called, booting up a computer at the end of the row.
Senka shuffled slowly towards the woman, glancing around nervously. Her palms were sweating and she wiped them on her jeans. Her clothes hung on her skeletal figure and she grew instantly self-conscious. She was very much aware of the pain in her body. It was everywhere and she was so tired.
She made her way to the desk, puffing hard. The woman’s name tag screamed SANDRA at her in bold letters. She should bail, she should run. She didn’t know what this was. She could just go home, do physio, and convince herself that it was all a dream.
But it wasn’t.
Jules was real.
Tory was real.
Appollyon was real.
And she needed to prove it to herself.
She shakily took the card out of her pocket and slid it towards the woman. She smiled and reached down under the desk. She retrieved a Canadian passport and a boarding pass and slid them, along with the card, across the desk towards Senka.
“Flight boards at nine-fifteen through gate C,” she said brightly with a smile. In a low voice, lips barely moving, she added, “Amanda instructed you to show me that card, not to give it to me. Do exactly as we say. This is your first lesson. Give the card to your flight attendant when the pilot announces the descent.”
