Shadows Chapter IX: An Old Friend

Author's note: the Ng'chrit'kee are a genderless species, as such, the pronouns "he" and "she" are inappropriate for them, as is "it," which is a gender neutral word, not genderless. So I have elected to take from the Turkish their third person pronoun "o" which also has no gender. I will use it for referring to any Ng'chrit'kee, and its possessive "onun" in place of "it" or "its."

A few days later, according to my metabolism, at least (they didn’t induce day night cycles in the facility, or on the Gatherer, as Bob had told me was the freighter’s name), I found myself once again at the Lusty Lahobnan, eyeing over the menu he was displaying in midair before me. The Gatherer was still experiencing their power issues, which seemed to have spread to the facility, as the lights flickered in the restaurant while I was making my decision.

“Nexus,” Bob said suddenly.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Nexus. The name of the facility. You can’t just keep calling it that. It’s irritating.”

“But… I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I was going to have to get used to these exchanges. The Bosun had checked Bob over when I tried to turn him back in aboardship and rejected him as defective. Oh, the torrent of abuse that raged out of the tablet at that assessment went on until long after I’d departed Bosun’s presence.

I spied a selection that looked intriguing and placed my orderwith a tap. It had the appearance of combining spaghetti with meatballs and a gelatin salad.

“If that’s what you want, though I suppose I can’t be the best judge of what you organics might find palatable. Just give me a good power feed and I’m happy.”

I tried to ignore him and just study the other patrons. Even after a few days here, I still couldn’t get over their dizzying variety.

My meal arrived fairly promptly, carried by a squat cylindrical, flat-topped robot about waist-high. It was almost exactly what it appeared, though the red sauce tasted more of cinnamon and chives than of marinara. The cubes of gelatin were exactly that. The whole made it an odd mixture of an entrée and a desert.

I was about half-way through my repast when I was startled half out of my skin by a tap on my shoulder. I quickly spun around, wielding my fork as though it were a mighty weapon.

“Why it IS you! How ARE you? You know you led me on quite the chase the other day.”

I dropped the fork, and my jaw, with a clatter.

It was her.

Shanima.

Here.

In this alien structure, who knows how many veils beyond her home reality.

Here. In front of me. When I’d thought I’d left her behind forever. My heart didn’t know whether to leap from my chest or to stop beating in entirety.

And I just stared at her, speechless, my mouth hanging open like an idiot.

She was as beautiful as ever, staring down at me with those big brown eyes at hers.

She broke my dumb silence.

“Well, aren’t you going to say “hi” or something? You’re acting like you’ve seen a ghost.”

In a way, I had. Her.

“Wha… what are you doing here? HOW did you get here? Just… how?”

“Hello to you, too,” she slapped my shoulder playfully. “You’re not the only one who can observe and learn, you know. I watched you tear veils enough times I figured out how to do it myself.”

I winced. My tendency of condescension towards non-magic users was a trait she disliked, and for which she had frequently chastised me.

“But… you had me leave you behind. I thought you ha no more interest in world-travelling. Not that it’s not good to see you. It’s great, in fact. I just… thought I’d never see you again,” finding words in my stunned state was difficult. My world was spinning and a low buzz confused my senses.

“Oh, I thought I had had enough of it for awhile. After those fox people, I really didn’t have any stomach for it for quite some time. And I have to admit, I really wasn’t fair to you. I put all that on you when I shouldn’t have. Just looking at you reminded me of what they did. And I just couldn’t handle it. I’m so sorry I did that to you,” she took my hands in hers over the table as she sat down across from me.

“Anyway,” she continued after a pause, “I got over it after a couple years. And after all the wonderful things you showed me, teaching in that old schoolhouse just became so… dull. So I tried to do what I’d seen you doing – tearing the veil you’d called it – and it worked. So I left that boring old world behind. And after several other worlds, I found myself here. Well, not directly. There was that dreadful ocean I landed in at first, but some good people picked me up from there and brought me here. I actually tried to leave from that water world, but I couldn’t even feel the veil there. Oh, now I’m just rambling and not letting you get a word in edge-wise. So tell me how ARE you doing, and what brought you here? Here, of all places. Isn’t it funny we should bump into each other here, in space?”

I didn’t mind that she’d become long-winded. My head had time to clear and I just drank in the fabulous, wonderful sight of her. She could talk for hours for all I cared. I’d gladly sit there and listen to her, enraptured. But, she was waiting for me to speak now.

Bob beat me to the punch.

“Pipe up, knucklehead. Don’t leave the woman hanging.”

A look of startlement cross her face while I cast a frown of consternation at the tablet. I decided to just dismiss his remark.

“It… It’s really good to see you. Leaving you behind like that – it broke my heart, “she squeezed my hands with a look of heart-felt sympathy when I said that.

“I’m so so sorry. I really didn’t mean for that. I wasn’t fair to you at all.”

A mournful violin-like sound began to play softly.

“Shut up, Bob,” I snapped and it cut off abruptly.

“Anyway, I understand. At least, I do now. And, sometimes, I think it’s for the better,” she frowned when I said that, so I tried to explain, “You of all people know how dangerous what I do is. A lot of these realities, they’re just not safe. I just don’t want to subject you to that. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you that way. Ay least… leaving you behind I knew you’d still be alive – still have a long, healthy life. And hopefully happy.”

My clarification did not improve her near glower.

“Now you just listen. I’ve told you before, and I’m going to tell you again. You just let ME worry about what’s too dangerous for me and what’s not. I don’t need you shielding me from the universe like some over-protective, misogynistic… man!” She took her hands back from and crossed her arms beneath her breasts with a harrumph.

“Multi-verse,” Bob chimed in, “universe is singular.”

“Shut up, Bob,” she snapped at him.

My expression turned sheepish, and I fiddled with my utensils, feeling like a chastised puppy.

“Anyway,” her features smoothed, “that’s all moot now. I’m here. I know how to travel on my own. And there’s not much you can do about that, now is there?”

“No, I suppose there isn’t.”

“And it’s absolutely wonderful to see you again! It’s just been too long, and I want to hear everything! Tell me,” she lit up in a smile as she took my hands in hers again.

As I was filling her in on my travels while we were separated, I was careful to leave out the encounter with the Shadowlords that led me to this universe. She ordered some food, and we talked happily for quite some time, basking in each other’s presence.

I told her of the crystalline world of the Sontori. A pangolin-like people, their highly stratified society dwelt among shaped living crystal, nestled along clear babbling brooks that snaked their way through a sharply angular, rosy landscape. Technology completely failed in their reality. Something about their thermodynamic laws prevented its efficacy.

Nothing with moving parts worked. A wheel and axle would immediately jam up, a hinge freeze, a button fail to release after depressing. Even a simple lever would just sit there, failing to transfer force, so long as it consisted of more than one piece – a broom would work fine, but a see-saw would be useless.

Because of this, everything was done with physical labor, or through magic. But even with their magics, incantations and weaves we just as useless as machines. They abided by the Law of One, as I called it, every bit as much. In fact, their magic worked only through sheer force of will. One felt their world, felt its fabric, felt the ripple and flow of the magical force throughout everything, holding everything together, sustaining it all, even life itself. One felt it, grabbed it, and willed it to reshape itself as one wished, and in the reshaping, all was possible.

The majority of the Sontori could only affect change in their surroundings through physical labor. Their will was too weak to see that dirt banished from their home without the act of sweeping it away with a broom. That very home had no door – just a curtain over the entryway – for they had not the strength to shape and reshape the crystal shell whenever they wished to leave.

Only the Saliri did. And, as such, they enjoyed much privilege. When one needed something that could not be done with the hands, one went to the Saliri.

A new home? It must be shaped by them. Clothing only existed because of a Saliri’s whim. And war, thought it was not their invention, was refined and rendered far bloodier by them.

Fewer than one in a thousand could deem themselves Saliri. This meant that only the great cities had more than a handful of them, and most villages counted themselves blessed should one grace them with his (or her) presence.

As it always is with power, the Saliri jealously guarded their secrets and rigorously tested any who wished to join their ranks. But woe unto anyone who was discovered to claim membership in their caste, or to be found engaging in feats of will without first gaining their acceptance.

Predictably, one such individual was the first I met after crossing the veil into this world of gems. Poroo-Tom-Rollo knew her will was not strong enough to survive the testing of the Saliri. Her friend, Kollo-Ron-Tom had been taken away by them for trial and training, and it wasn’t but one turning of all three moons before she’d heard his mother’s wailing over his passing. He’d been much stronger than her, always winning the game of push they’d played together.

So she tried to remain hidden, only exercising her talent for those in the village she felt for sure would not let slip what she could do. A mended shirt here, a dent in a pool smoothed there, that was all she dared do. And yet, she still dreamed. Of what it would be like to be more powerful. To have the certainty of will to be a Saliri. And more, what it would be like to flee this world of rigid castes, to be free of the Saliri, and live unfettered, working her will as she would, when she would.

It was a hot day when I arrived , their violet sun blazing, casting knife-edged deep blue shadows beneath the almost chaotically leaning polygonal crystalline towers. The heat hit me immediately, like stepping into an oven, and I broke out in a steaming sweat. But the depth of this world’s magic and its accessibility struck me nearly as quickly, so it didn’t take me long to conjure a cloak of cooled air snugged tight about my skin. The perspiration dried quickly in my instant relief.

It was then that I looked around to take in my surroundings and their raw, rigid beauty. And there was Porro-Tom-Rollo, staring at me through her slit yellow eyes, the jaw of her scaled mouth hanging open in an expression very similar to that of human astonishment. Her forked tongue pierced the air, casting for scent.

We had the stereotypical “what the hell are you and where did you come from” conversation, any language barrier easily overcome with a minor exertion of will. I found her quite personable, and followed her back to her dwelling. She was quick to press me into taking her away from this world, but I was hesitant to do so given my past experiences with losing companions. Telling her this, I added that I would give it some thought.

Her abode was simple enough: among a village of some hundred or so similar structures, it’s pentagonal entrance was up a flight of stairs etched into the side of a hexagonal rose-quartz. A curtain of a shimmery lilac silk-like material hung across the entrance – even if she could affect a seal, and remove it at will, she dared not, as doing so would be a beacon to the Saliri.

Inside it was sparsely furnished – a futon mattress of sorts against one wall, and at a single, four-legged table sat three straight-back chairs, cushionless, each of one solid piece of amethyst. In a set of cubby holes lay her neatly-folded clothing, all of varying hues of the same shimmering silk-like material. That was about it – no books, no pictures, nothing else. Very Spartan.

We spoke for a while about her life, her village, her world.

She earned her living as a water-bearer. Her village was several miles from the nearest stream, and it was too poor to afford a Saliri who could shape a well, or fashion a canal and force the water to flow uphill – the latter was possible, here, but not cheap, for the Saliri who could make such permanent was one of the strongest amongst them.

And so Porro-Tom-Rollo would join a line of other water-bearers to trudge down to the stream, fill up their handle-less buckets, then march back home with them balanced on their heads. Well, the others balanced theirs on their heads. She used her will to hold hers aloft a hair or two over her head and feigned that she was really balancing it. It was much easier, and allowed her to make the trip twice in a day rather than once like everyone else. And no one seemed to suspect anything amiss. At least, no one said anything.

I was curious how an economy worked with no craftsmen, and so asked her about the village’s main means of income. They had a quarry where they harvested sharpening stones, she said. The stronger of them smashed a particular crystal that grew there and they collected and sold the bits. It wasn’t very lucrative, as there were other villages that did the same, but it was sufficient to sustain them.

War was not unknown here, a fact I would discover soon after my arrival.

It was in the middle of the night – one brightly lit by two of their three moons. Soldiers from the neighboring nation emerged from the shadows bearing swords and shields, spears and maces, the sword and maces of gleaming metal, the spears and shields of duller crystal – what kind, I could not tell in the darkness. Their attack was silent, and they’d already entered several dwellings on the outskirts of the village, slaying the occupants before a cry rang out and villagers poured from their homes bearing what implements they had – brooms of oddly bristled silica, rakes and pitchforks. Nothing capable of making a stand against armed and trained soldiers.

I couldn’t stand to watch them being cut down in the streets, and so I took action. I pointed to a soldier, making a twisting gesture with my hand, and his neck suddenly bent at a sharp angle and he dropped to the ground like a stone. Not that the gestures were necessary here, but habit from worlds where they were plus a little flare for the dramatic led me to making them.

Seeing this, three warriors cried out, pointed to me, and began to charge my way. With a sweep of my hand, I sent them flying into a nearby building, their lifeless forms falling in crumpled heaps at its base. Another rushed me from behind, but made the mistake of shouting a cry of battle. In response, I spun around, punched a splayed-open hand at him, and he exploded in a fine red mist.

Realizing what they were facing, one of the invaders screamed “Saliri!” and the remaining attackers in sight all broke off their attacks and melted back into the shadows.

It all happened in mere minutes.

The streets around us were filled with bodies. What neighbors survived the attacked remained cowering where they were, staring at us with a combination of fear and disbelief. At Poll-Tom-Rollo’s feet lay two bodies, both with their throats cut. Her empty hands trembled in front of her, and her face was wracked by a stricken expression.

“What… what did you do?!” She cried, “What did *I* do?”

I closed the ground between us with quick, long steps and placed comforting hands on her shoulders.

“It’s okay, we just defended ourselves. And your town. We did what had to be done.”

“No, you don’t understand. The Saliri. They will know. What we did, it is forbidden us.”

“Even to protect your life? The lives of others?”

“Even then. Only Saliri may do what we did. They will know. They will come for us.”

“To hell with them, then. Let them come.”

“No! We must away from here! Now!”

Stubbornly, I dug in my heels.

“I said. Let. Them. Come. I will not let them take you from your home. Everyone has the right to defend themselves. Even if that means one must do what is ‘forbidden,’” I spat out the word like it was a rotten slug.

She shook me off and fled back into her home. By the time I followed her inside, she’d fashioned a seamless shoulder bag and was stuffing all her clothes into it.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “Put all that back. I told you I won’t let them take you.”

She paused in her packing, crouched over the bag.

“You don’t understand. You can’t understand. You didn’t grow up here. You’re strong, yes. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen. But so are they. And there will be many of them when they come. We are but two. You will not be able to stop them. But it’s not just about me. My town, my neighbors, my family. They will all be punished for letting me live amongst them and not informing the Saliri of my potential. I cannot allow that. It will be better for them all if I’m gone before the Saliri get here, which won’t be long after those soldiers report back.” I hadn’t considered that. The thought took most of the wind out of my sails.

“Well then. If I can’t convince you to stay, at least let me help you. You can’t just run off on your own.”

“And why would she do that, Stranger?” A new voice injected itself into our conversation without warning. Porro-Tom-Rollo’s eyes widened in terror.

I spun to face the new visitor, only to find myself frozen in mid spin, the air turning to veritable concrete around me.

“Well, aren’t you an interesting one? Now why would you change yourself to look like that? And where’d you get the idea? Why such delicate skin? Oh, no need to answer, I am just idly speculating aloud.”

Not like I could answer – my jaw was as frozen as the rest of me.

“Please let him go, Saliri. He is not of this world. He doesn’t know!” Porro-Tom-Rollo begged.

“SILENCE!” The newcomer’s voice thundered like a god’s.

“You will speak only when spoken to, Aramoush. And when you do, you will not utter such blasphemies.”

She shrank away from him, cowering. I hadn’t been idle while he was speaking. I was feeling out what exactly it was he’d done, working on a means to undo it. He casually stepped into my view, an iridescent black silken robe billowing dramatically about him in a way wholly unnatural.

“You two are in quite the bit of trouble, you know. I have seen your handiwork outside. Quite the mess you made. And all of it forbidden.” His slit eyes descended upon her shoulder bag. It lifted off the floor and floated to his outstretched scaly hand.

“This. Also forbidden. For you. Neither of you are Saliri,” he gazed at her penetratingly, assessing her.

“I doubt you even have the strength to become one of us,” he emphasized the word “you” as though it were vile, making his contempt for her clear. Turning to me, he continued, “and you. How did one of your evident will, and facility with it, elude Our eyes?” The capital in “Our” was audible. “Never matter. You know the penalty. As soon as Others arrive, We shall make quite public examples of you both. You, with your execution, and you with shielding and marking that you cannot harm yourself while living with your shame.”

If this intruder had thought Porro-Tom-Rollo would be properly cowed by his words, well, so did I. And we were both caught surprised by her response.

“I will NOT be quelled!” She shouted. The air around her exploded in a shockwave that rippled outward, throwing the Saliri through the door. The explosion somehow slipped around me like waves past the pilings of a pier, but in the moment it struck the man, I felt his grip on me loosened, and I struck with all my will to break free of him.

Once again in control of my limbs, I took a quick glance to Porro-Tom-Rollo. A glowing nimbus surrounded her and her eyes blazed in fury. She stepped past me, towards the doorway. But as she did, a curtain of flame sprang to life within it, barring her way. And no sooner was our egress blocked than the walls of her room began to glow cherry red and an unbearable heat radiated from them, oppressively filling the room. Sweat instantly lept to my brow despite my cooling cloak.

Grabbing her arm, I tore a hole in the air, sundering the veil between that world and another and jumped through, pulling her with me. I had given Porro-Tom-Rollo her wish, after all.

* * *

I shook my head as I stared down at the table, recounting the tale to Shanima. I took a bite of my food, running the events again in my head, always overanalyzing, trying to find something I could have done better. Something to make things come out right.

“What became of her,” Shanima inquired after a few minutes of silence made it clear the tale was over.

“She went her separate way. That reality turned out to have magic similar to her own, but a far more forgiving people. I imagine she’s doing quite well for herself right now. At least, I hope she is,” one of the few to survive, I brooded to myself.

Catching the change in my mood, she once again took my hands in hers, sympathy filling her eyes, “You’re really too hard on yourself, you know. You’re not responsible for everything that happens in all the universes. You just can’t save everyone. Especially when they don’t even want to be saved. Or need it.”

I didn’t really have a response to that.

“Chipper up! We haven’t seen each other in forever! Let’s get out of here and go somewhere a bit more… private,” she smiled and batted her eyelashes at me in mock coyness.

I gave her a wry grin in return and started to rise.

“Now there’s a suggestion I can get behind,”

Bob had begun singing while I was finishing my sentence:

“…sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

“Shut up, Bob,” Shanima and I cut him off in unison before bursting out in laughter. Stuffing the tablet in my cargo pocket and putting my arm around Shanima, we wove our way through the crowd and back to my quarters aboard ship. We didn’t give a moment’s notice to the flickering lights on the way.

The story continues in Chapter X: Flight.