Breaking Away (The Man in the Shadows) (13 page)

The shaking began again, but this time he opened his eyes. “Ethan,” the voice said again, this time more softly, concerned. “I’m not Maika, Sweetheart... I’m Zareh.”

A short scream jolted him entirely awake, and he found with revulsion that he was in the dark dungeon he was sent to not so long ago with Zareh. Clenching his teeth, frightened, he looked over at her, his eyes wide. “Zareh?”

“Yeah, it’s only me, sorry.” A flash of a smile came and went on her lovely face. She leaned forward to help him sit up, as he had been lying on the cold stone floor for hours. “You must have been dreaming.”

“Oh, my God,” Ethan said, leaning against a dark, almost invisible wall. He was weak, his arms and legs numb; he found himself now even more upset with his situation. Thinking the dream had been real, he felt like a fool. Feeling Maika’s skin against his... he really had, it seemed that real... he believed in his heart that he would never see her again. “It was so real.” After a moment, he looked over at Zareh again and asked, “Do you know how we got here?”

Sighing, she answered, “I wish I knew. One moment we were at Maika’s apartment, and the next...” she raised both of her hands in the air, as if presenting the room to him, “...we were here.”

“Don’t hate me,” Ethan blurted out, still looking into her light brown eyes. She tilted her head to the side, rattled by how sudden he had said something so blunt.

“What? Why would I hate you?”

“I... I think I know how we got here.” He leaned his head back wearily, until it hit the stone wall that rose up into the abyss, as if they were sitting at the bottom of a well. “But... I don’t know how to get out of here.”

Zareh gasped. It wasn’t out of shock or hate, but one made out of hope. “Ethan! If you know how we got here, we can brainstorm much more easily about how to get out!” Beaming, she added, “So, how did we get here?”

Despair taking over his voice, he reluctantly replied, “Magic.”

Huffing out a laugh in disbelief, she repeated slowly, articulating the word, “Magic?”

“I know it sounds stupid, but you have to believe me.” Biting his lower lip, he placed his palms on his forehead, frustrated. “I know this because... I have magical powers, too. Just not powerful enough to get us out of here.”

“Oh, really?” Zareh raised an eyebrow, and sat up straighter, as if expecting a spectacle that she didn’t want to miss. “Prove it.”

Shaking his head, he claimed, “I don’t think I can. A crucial piece is missing down here.”

“Alright, I don’t believe you, then.” She faked feeling rejected, but hoped her act would bother him enough that he’d try to prove himself to her.

It worked. He took his hands off of his forehead, and closed his eyes in thought. What could he do down in the depths of nowhere to prove he had magical powers? An idea came to him, and he held out his hands, palms up, keeping his eyes closed.

Zareh watched, almost hoping nothing would happen, because who in the world had
actual
magical powers?

A light sprung up off of his palms like splatters of paint being flung sharply off of a brush. Instinctively, she backed away from him, afraid something would appear that might hurt her, whatever it might be. Her face was illuminated in a soft blue glow, when quickly it faded and disappeared. When she felt it was safe, she scooted closer to him again, but before she could move very far, her thigh hit something on the floor. “Oh!” she yipped, looking down. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she could see what it was.

A turkey sandwich.

***

“Reporting for duty, Sir!”

Lamin sat up in his throne, stunned by James’s presence in his chambers. “You aren’t due for another five days, High General Berg.”

“Noted.” The look on James’s face was like stone, his eyes staring intently forward, unwavering, the usual bright glow dimmed to a flat grey. His jaw was set and unmoving, his anger quelled but sitting just beneath the surface. It took everything in him not to explode in a rage, but he contained it for the sake of his country. For his
honor
. “I am reporting for duty, nonetheless.” Pausing a moment, he added with a slight twitch, “For the Empire.”

Not expecting company, Lamin did not have his hat on. He scrambled for it on the table next to his chair, his eyes never leaving James’s, his hand darting this way and that, knocking his pen and papers to the floor. He could sense that something wasn’t right about James’s presence, but Lamin could not refuse his service if James was insisting. Finding the chapeau, he slapped it on his head, grasped his staff and stood up, his bones and joints creaking.

“Alright, Soldier.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from James’s unblinking sneer. It was like he was a changed man. A complete 180 from his former self. James was no longer jovial and friendly, but sharp as the edge of a sword, hard as a stonewall, and unbudging. Astounded by all of this, he couldn’t pull himself together and give High General Berg an order. Lamin didn’t think he’d show for duty this soon, and thus hadn’t made any plans for his assignment. “At ease.”

The word ‘ease’ was no longer in James’s vocabulary, yet he couldn’t ignore a direct order. Reluctantly, he took his hands out from behind his back, and tried to relax his muscles. Every time he’d tell his brain to repose, his muscles would slack slightly, but then tense back up as quickly and deadly as a bear trap.

Trying to be accommodating, and not condescending, Lamin said softly, “Do you have any particular assignment in mind?”

“Yes.” James’s jaw snapped shut with a harsh
snap
. His nostrils flared as he controlled his emotions. Steadily, he answered in a very calculated manner, “I would like to be placed with the new regiment up in the mountains.” Wetting his lips, he added, “In the northwest.”

“That’s where you returned from... Where you...” Lamin turned his head, as if the request physically ached. His eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t mean to question you, Berg, but do you really want to go back there?”

Ignoring the question entirely, James arms flew behind his back again, and his hands grasped together tightly. His feet shoulder width apart, he squared his shoulders, as fixed and abiding as a warship. “I will report to the northwestern quadrant tomorrow morning at 9am sharp.”

Lamin opened his mouth to reply, but before a sound could be made, James had already turned around on his heel and steadfastly made his way towards the door.

“James!” Lamin called after him, but James flung one of the massive double doors open and strode through it to make his tidy exit. He was gone.

Lamin turned away from the door and brought a hand up to his chin. He couldn’t help but smile. “The northwestern quadrant it is... traitor.”

***

Ethan didn’t know until he was about seventeen that he had powers of any type or capacity. He found out in a rather simple way. Nothing dramatic at all. He had merely wished for something as hard as he could; he was still in the midst those specific teenage years of angst where a hysterical flare for longing was the norm. He wanted a '68 Ebony Gibson J200, like the one Elvis played. It was flawless and warm and it had a beautiful fretboard... Oh, how gorgeous it was! After wishing almost to the point of tears being forced from his eyes, out of thin air appeared the guitar of his dreams, surrounded by a thin blue glow, sitting directly in front of him on his bed spread. He quite literally screamed for thirty seconds when he realized what had just happened, that it was REAL... luckily his parents weren’t home to think he was getting murdered.

Testing out this newly found talent for magical trickery, Ethan wished for something even more simple, a turkey sandwich on wheat, hold the tomato, extra mayo, thank you very kindly. This time he kept his eyes open, in an attempt to see what happens during this mystical process.

Holding both of his hands out in front of him, palms up, he proceeded to wish. Slowly, like honey rolling out of a jar, he saw a light drawing out of his hands. It was very peculiar, like something you’d see in an ultraviolet or infrared camera, like summoning ghosts from the grave. The glow was faint, barely visible at first, then burst like an exploding light bulb, and as it faded and withdrew back into his hands, the sandwich appeared on his desk on a bright white plate.

“Huh,” he said in disbelief, studying his hands, the air before him, and the newly materialized sandwich. He reached over to it cautiously, and grabbed it quickly, as if the faster he did, the less likely the sandwich would to come alive and bite his fingers off. Yep, that was soft bread he felt. He sniffed it, and sure enough, it smelt just as he had expected it to: delicious.

He wanted to immediately pick up his phone and tell his best friend what he had discovered. Something deep down in his gut told him that he probably shouldn’t disclose this phenomenon to anyone. Not yet, maybe not ever. What if he tried to prove it to someone, and it didn’t work? They would haul his ass off in a straight jacket to a padded room for sure. As hard as it was, he kept it to himself from that day forward.

As the days and then months went on, he cautiously tried to push the limits of his abilities and wish for bigger things. A sports car. World peace. To become super muscular. Nothing happened. Thinking about it later, he thought it better that the larger wishes hadn’t come true, because he didn’t want to deal with the whole ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ thing. Normally, he could get a little over zealous when he got excited about something. He narrowed down his magical ability to things that were minuscule in the greater massiveness of the world, of the universe.

Once he moved out of his parents’ house and went off to college when he was eighteen, he found quickly that he had too much school work and partying to do to practice his conjuring up of trivial things out of thin air. However, when he was twenty, and a junior at the University of Minnesota, he got a call from a strange number. Since he was heading off to class when his cell phone rang, he decided to let it go to voicemail. After his class, he promptly listened to the message.

It changed his life... the call was from a gentleman who referred to himself as The Père.

***

In the beginning, there was nothing but a tiny ball of energy throbbing and waiting for its big moment. When the conditions were right, it exploded forth, bright and omnipotent! Unrolling like a great vast rug was the sky of purple, exploding upwards were all the rocks, soil and grass on which man would walk. Falling from the sky and landing with a massive
boom
were the mountains, tall and dark, to which the evil things and dead things and cast-out things would crawl and make their home.

Only one man was created in this moment, his name too holy to speak, so he is to this day called the High Lord. He looked around at the sky and the mountains and was pleased. After some time passed, he felt lonely, and wanted more people like himself with which to be around and with whom he could live. He felt, with more people, he would have the assistance necessary to build homes and the togetherness to build families. The High Lord was unsure of how to go about making more people to bring to the place he dubbed Monde de Lumière.

Deep in thought, he walked over to a gigantic, shining surface of bluish-pink, and touched it with his hand, expecting it to be solid, yet it was liquid. Water, of the lakes, was a wondrous and ingenious resource. When his fingers sunk beneath the surface of the water, a great spark of electricity flew through his body, and with it came a grand idea.

Submerging his entire body into the water, he became electrified like a battery or a menacing guard fence. The longer he stayed submerged, the greater his power became. In an instant, he had what he needed to get started.

As his head broke the surface, he gazed upon the beach to see it now covered in small, intricate urns, each with its own cork. Excited at what he had imagined, he ran out of the water towards them. Closing his eyes, each of the thousands of small urns began to tremble, as if possessed. Coming from the urns and popping the corks were glowing, swirling, soft, mystical strands of smoke. Soon, these strands twisted into the forms of humans, looking remarkably similar to the High Lord himself. Women, children, men... and when he snapped his fingers once, a light as brilliant as fire exploded in his eyes, knocking him backwards into the water.

Floating on the surface of the water, he waited for his eyesight to come back to him. He felt changed, as if the power of life had been infused into his body. After a few moments, he heard other voices rising up from the sand covered beach, and in no time at all it turned into singing. The new population of Monde de Lumière sang:

Wade in the water, wade in the water children.

Wade in the water, shadow’s gonna dim the water.

Who are these children all dressed in white?

Must be the ones that made it through.

High Lord is gonna create the souls.

Tears building at the corners of his eyes, he stood up, all the water dripping off of him. In front of him, every last one of the people were holding hands in a great arch of unity, they were
his
people. The souls in the urns materialized into physical entities, just like him, and they smiled on him now like gentle, unique snowflakes falling from the heavens.

The High Lord called to them, “My children! We are the Luminites! We shall work together for the welfare of the greater good! We are all equal, and we will help each other in all of our natural talents. Some of us are leaders, others of us architects, and still others of us teachers. Each of us will do one small role in a greater machine, which is our Empire of peace and happiness for all! We are unique, because our souls will never die! See the urns all around you? Your soul will go back to that urn when your physical body retires, and when a baby is born, you will be born again. It’s the great circle of life, of recycling... this way, our knowledge will build up and upon itself until we reach infinite feats of wisdom and glory! Each soul has a pivotal role to play in our society... the loss of one soul will throw off our entire world.”