Chapter Twenty-Two

Gus tilted his head back all the way, looking up to the top of the wall spreading up in front of him. Ben rubbed his palm against its smooth, flat surface, his brow furrowed. Tess leaned her back against it and closed her eyes, smiling to herself. Martha sat down and dropped her pack next to her, sighing and taking her bare feet into her hands to rub them back to life.

“You know, this reminds me of an old children’s story someone back in Medias told me about a while back,” Gus said. “It was about a world where there were four nations; Water, Earth, Fire, and Air. For a long time, the four Nations lived together in harmony. There were ‘benders’ from each nation who were capable of harnessing the elemental energy of the nation they were from and manipulating that element to their will. Each type of ‘bending’ had its own specific style, which helped organize and characterize the energy the benders used. For instance, earth benders mold the hard, unforgiving element of rocks and dirt, so their bending style was representative of the uncompromising nature of their element, and air is a peaceful, negotiating element, so its benders did not use it for offense, but for defense and evasion, as well as the furthering of joy and culture.”

“So they were basically pushovers?” Martha stated more than asked.

“Peacemakers. Please,” Gus clarified. “Anyway, everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. They were a strong, ambitious nation made stronger by the presence of a comet that added to their bending abilities. By the time their war for conquest began, no one in any of the other nations was prepared to stand strong enough against them. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he vanished.”

“What do you mean, he vanished?” Martha asked.

“Well, everyone thought he had left them, gone into hiding to save his own skin, too scared to pick a fight with the most powerful nation in the history of the world. But a hundred years after his mysterious disappearance, two children from the southern water tribe, a small, broken community, mostly destroyed by raids from the Fire Nation earlier in the war, discovered the new Avatar. He had died as a Fire bender and been reincarnated into the form of a young Air bender boy named Aang."

“Reincarnated?” Martha asked. “You mean he came back to life?”

“Yeah,” Gus said. “The Avatar is a soul that passes through one human body and into another after the first one dies. And there is a cycle, so the new avatar is always from a different nation than the last. Water, Earth, Fire, and then Air.”

“How does this wall remind you of that story, Gus?” Martha asked.

“Well, as it was described to me, in the Earth Kingdom, it was natural that they should build enormous walls with no gates, using only powerful Earth benders to open holes in the walls. When I saw this wall, I immediately imagined that kind of gate opening to allow us entry.”

“You’re actually not that far off,” Guido said. “That is almost how these gates work; the towns don’t want those laying them under siege to know where they are, as they are the weakest part of the city’s defenses, but they need a way to let regular traveler’s in. Once you’ve been around these parts long enough, you get to memorize where all the entrances are. I happen to know that we’re on the correct side of the wall for this particular town. What I don’t know is where exactly along the wall it is.”

Ben looked down the expanse of the wall to his right. It had to be at least one or two miles across. “How do we find out?” he asked wearily.

“How about you fly up there and check it out, Guido,” Martha said. “You know, give those old wings some exercise, after all that abysmal sitting around you had to do all day. How uncomfortable that must have been for you.”

“I’m sorry to displease you,” Guido said, obviously not sorry at all, “but I’m afraid that security is so tight in Rachel that even a lone Raven can’t fly over the wall without fearing for his life.”

“So how do we find the gate, Guido?” Gus asked, his tone more serious now. “We’ve walked all morning; I’d like to find a place to sit down, maybe eat non-dried fruit, perhaps even sleep in a bed...”

“We’ll simply have to walk this side, asking for entrance until it is given to us.”

Ben gave a short sarcastic laugh. “Who exactly is going to hear us asking from all the way down here?”

“I swear to you, the gate will open, wherever it is,” Guido said. His tone was getting increasingly annoyed as they got increasingly subversive. “So, if you would please,” he said, speaking pointedly to Martha, “we need to start moving with haste.”

Martha leaned further back into her reclined position. “Just five more minutes,” she said. “My feet are so swollen, it’s like wearing bags of rocks around my ankles.”

“The path is smooth here,” Gus said, putting his hand out for her to take. “You can probably walk barefoot so you don’t have to worry about putting your shoes back on.”

She made a face at him, but put her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. They all started walking along the wall. They had gone a whole three feet before Guido croaked, telling them all to stop.

“Ben,” he said, “if you would be so kind as to please knock against that wall.”

Ben looked confused as he turned and banged a fist against the wall. Nothing happened. They waited a few moments, and then Guido flew on, prompting them all to follow. Every five feet or so, Guido would signal to Ben to rap his knuckles against the wall, and he would hang back as the rest of the group walked on, waiting and watching for something.

After Ben had knocked for the tenth time and Guido had waited fruitlessly for some unknown event, Gus laughed. “This is ridiculous,” he said. “Does anybody else wonder what kind of high-tech security system involves walking along a wall and knocking? Does anybody else feel a bit... Podunk about this whole ordeal?”

“I swear to you,” Guido said obstinately, the taste of stubbornness in his tone, “this wall will open; it takes merely patience and persistence to do so. You asked me to guide you, and I promised not to lead you astray. Stop being so frustrating.”

Gus looked a bit nonplussed by this reaction, but said nothing, and they continued on. It was silent except for the occasional raven croak and single knock on the smooth wall face. Ben felt a repeating rhythm in the slow parade they were marching, and he was beginning to lose himself in that rhythm when his knock returned a hollow sound, and Guido croaked loudly in triumph.

“Aha!” he declared. “You see? I told you there would come a response. And to think you doubted me.”

Gus raised one eyebrow. “I’m still doubting you, Excitable Evan,” he said. “So there’s a hollow behind that wall. That’s not a response; that’s a resonance.”

Before Guido could respond, there came a loud “kachunk” from inside the giant wall, followed immediately by several identical “kachunks,” each sound seeming to come from higher on the wall. Then a hole opened up at the base of the wall as large bricks appeared and curled themselves inside what appeared to be a hollow portion of the wall. The hole stayed dark, suggesting that the other side was not yet open, but the top scaled higher and higher until it reached halfway to the top.

Out of the dark, enclosed portion of missing wall came a low, booming, female voice. “What is your business in the town of Rachel?” it asked.

“Weary from travel, we seek asylum and the restoration of our rations. We will be on our way again soon, if that is what the citizens wish,” Guido said.

There came a drawn-out moment of silence before the voice spoke again. “You sound honorable. You may enter our walls; do not overstay your welcome.”

_______

I claim no ownership of "Avatar: The Last Airbender." Just a whole lot of fandom. I would have taken it out here, as it was mostly for word count and only minimally to describe the appearance of the wall, but it was too tightly entwined in the actual narration to be easily extricated. Los siento. I did take out all the wikipedia articles I used to boost word count, though. You can thank me later.

Chapter Nineteen

“Can we just sit down for a bit?” Martha pleaded.

“What is wrong with you?” Ben half shouted, half laughed. “We’ve only been walking for an hour. At this rate we’ll never get out of this forest.”

Gus was already bending down and dropping his pack behind him. Martha quickly followed suit and leaned up against a round boulder on the ground next to her.

“Guys, come on,” Ben said. “We can’t keep doing this.” When they both sat back and closed their eyes with a sigh, ignoring him, he rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, five minutes, and then we’re back up and moving.”

He sat down and pulled his back around in front of him, searching for more of his dried greens to eat while he waited.

“Ben,” Tess whispered, pointing into some low branches not too far from Gus’ head. Perched regally there, fluffing itself up and shaking its head proudly was a great black raven.

Ben smiled, and watched as the Raven positioned itself perfectly to leave a welcoming gift in Gus’ hair. “Watch out, Gus,” Ben said, laughing. Gus grunted, but didn’t open his eyes. “I’m serious, Gus,” he said,
though he was laughing even harder now, “a bird is about to take a few liberties with your head there.”


“Yeah,” Gus said, still refusing to care.

“Okay,” Ben said. “It’s your hair.”

Ben looked back up at the raven in time to see it... roll its eyes.

“You wanted him to get up and walk, and I was going to help you, but now it seems so unjust to follow through after you’ve baited him like that.”

Ben gave himself a kink in his neck as he whipped around to look at Tess, whose eyes were now bright with laughter. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” she said, bursting into deeper fits of laughter.

“The bird talking? You hear that?” Ben asked again.

“Yes.”

“Gus, did you hear that?” Ben asked.

“Mmm,” Gus responded with questionable amounts of lucidity.

Ben looked back up at the bird. “You spoke?”

It rolled its eyes again. “Yes, I spoke. Did you hear what I said?”

He narrowed his eyes and tried to remember. “You wanted to help me get Gus and Martha to start walking again?”

“Yes,” the bird said. “I’m just trying to be nice, and you’re constantly making it harder. First by thwarting my grand scheme, now with all this fuss over my ability to speak. I don’t know why I try.”

“Got me,” Ben said. “What business do you have talking?” Ben asked.

“That’s rude,” Tess said. “He can talk if he wants to.”

The raven nodded. “I like this girl,” it said. “She’s right. Humans don’t have the monopoly on speech, you know. You’re all so pompous about it, like it’s something hard to achieve. Well, I hate to break it to you, but it’s not like you worked for your words, boy. You were born that way. Just like me.”

“Okay, fair,” Ben conceded. “Why are you talking to me now, then?”

The raven puffed itself up again. It was about twice as large as a regular raven when it did this, but it was hard for Ben to tell how much was just fluffed feathers and how much was legitimate raven. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Ben asked.

“It’s for the girl, too,” it said, nodding to Tess. “Why do you always think people are only talking to you?”

“What do you propose?” Tess asked, silencing Ben’s defenses with a smile.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now, both of you, and I want to offer you my guidance,” it said. “Because, let’s face it, you need it pretty badly.”

“What sort of guidance?” Tess asked, again keeping Ben from a retort. “I’m fairly sure we can find our way out of this forest on our own; we’ve seen its edges while standing on the hills in Medias; it’s not too much farther now.”

“Ah yes, but right now, you’re not really as far out of Medias as you think you are,” the raven said. “You’ve left the mushroom’s kingdom behind you, but how much do you know about There and all its many glories and surprises?”
“We’re made of hardy stock,” Ben said, sticking his chin up. “I’m sure we can take whatever that world throws at us.”

The raven looked around the forest casually. “I’m sure you’re right; there’s nothing There that would be able to do you any serious harm. I mean, plenty of Medians leave the forest and have lived to tell the tale, right? Certainly you will do just fine on your own.”

Tess looked at Ben hopefully. “He’s right you know.”

“You mean sarcastic,” Ben corrected.

“But right. We don't know what we’re getting into. We should really consider taking him along.”

Ben looked up at the raven, narrowing his eyes. “Hang on; you say you've been watching us?” he asked distrustfully. “Are you the same raven that’s been waking me up early in the morning and sitting in the trees just off the balcony, watching me for hours?’

“Should I be ashamed?” the raven asked. “I was curious about you, and you weren’t exactly guarding your privacy jealously or anything..”

“Well, I didn’t know at the time that you were going to be using all of your observations against me,” Ben said, putting his fists on his hips. “If you had told me then you were planning to store all of that information in your head and come after me in the forest, I probably would have closed a few more windows.”

“Just what sort of information do you think I gleaned from hours of watching you doing nothing?” the raven said indignantly. “And how am I using any of that ‘information’ against you by offering to help you survive where no one else has?”

After these words, there came a long stare down between Ben and the raven, where Ben used the silence to think back over the recent weeks when he’d often seen this raven lurking around his house. He hadn’t suspected anything — he wasn’t a paranoid person who saw conspiracies and spies around every corner and in every tree — so he hadn’t taken into account the fact that he was being watched. He tried to remember if he had ever said anything allowed that he shouldn’t have, or was ever talking with someone about something he would have rather kept out of that bird’s head.

After a moment of thinking about all this, trying to recollect his thoughts, his mind wandered. It was hard for his imagination to keep still ever, especially at times like these. He thought about Gus, and how he was now deep asleep against the boulder. What was making him and Martha so tired and ornery? Their moods could be explained perhaps by the events of the past day, and the fact that they hadn’t wanted to leave Medias after all, but had, in the end, felt forced to do so by the sudden strangeness of Tess’ behavior.

And Tess. How had she done that to him? He couldn’t think of a person less likely to be able to hurt him than Tess, but she had completely incapacitated him yesterday, and no one could explain it. Suddenly, her thoughts about anger and pain had powers. Where had they come from, and why hadn’t she noticed them before? What hadn’t he felt them before?

She had said something about leaving Medias. About not going home. But why would that suddenly give her powerful abilities she had never had before?

“Should I leave you two alone?” Tess asked, smiling again. Ben blink and shook his head clear, wondering how long he’d been staring at the bird, who now looked half asleep himself.

“What do you say?” the bird asked. “Am I in, or am I out?”

Ben sighed. “I guess it would be senseless to refuse the offer,” he said. “But we reserve the right to catch you and cook you if rations get scarce, so you’d better not outstay your welcome.”

The raven blinked, unfazed. “I have friends in high places...” he threatened.

“Do you have a name?” Tess asked. “Or should we just call you Raven?”

“My name, for all intents and purposes, is Guido. You can use it if you want, but I’m sure I’ll be able to infer from context clues whether or not you’re talking to me.”

The three looked around awkwardly at each other for a moment before Ben said, “Well, okay. That’s that. Gus and Martha, get your sorry bottoms off the forest floor. We’re leaving, and I now have no qualms about leaving you behind; we have our very own forest guide, and you don’t.”

________

I edited out the many Shakespearean sonnets I originally used to boost my word count. Thank you for your patience.

Chapter Eighteen

“I don’t like those pills, Mond,” the boy said. “I don’t know what they do, really, but I know they’re not... not good for me.”

“Don’t they help with your headaches?” she asked.

“Yeah, they stop the pain, but they stop everything.”

“But the headaches were really bad for you. Remember how you used to scream at night because they hurt so badly? You don’t do that anymore, do you?”

“No,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

Tamara leaned away from the door with a smile. Mond was defending her. The boy couldn’t stop her now that Mond was on her side; he wouldn’t dare try. He wouldn’t want to.

She crept down the hall into her own room and closed the door behind her before turning on the light. She crossed to the desk and pulled out the chair to sit. The little brown book in the top drawer had a red ribbon sticking out the bottom of it; she opened it to that page — a blank one — and pulled the fountain pen out of its holder next to the notepad.

She recounted her day minute for minute, detailing the mundane without attempting to romanticize it. She described the unforeseeable progress Mond was making in her chess game, how she’d mastered the Sicilian defense, Dragon Variation and how, without cheating and telling Mond that there were better moves she could make, even Tamara was having a hard time escaping her traps. They played the games verbally and Mond had surprisingly little trouble keeping mental track of what the board looked like. One day, she would wise up and they would have to stop playing; Tamara would have nothing further to teach her.

At this point, her pen stopped, poised over a new line. Tamara pondered the unsettling truth of the last sentence. So many of the things Tamara was teaching Mond were having to end too quickly, as Mond was learning them too quickly and at too advanced a level for Tamara to keep up her role as instructor. Would there eventually come a time when Mond would have to leave, go to some sort of academy so more learned people could give her more sophisticated lessons? Tamara shuddered and put the thought out of her mind. Their tutoring sessions were going so well, and they meant everything to Tamara. She couldn’t imagine giving her daughter up to let some strangers fill her mind with things she didn’t herself know.

She continued writing. She included a dry list of all the ingredients she had put in the dinner salad, the new dosage she had parceled out for the boy, and then came to the conversation she had eavesdropped on just a few moments before.

Then she came to the bottom of the page. She couldn’t think of anything further to write, elaborating on her day. So she added the line, “Tomorrow, Mond will learn to dance.”

Chapter Sixteen

“Your calligraphy is lovely,” Tamara cooed over Mond as the little girl struggled to control the pen that was too big for her hands. She had mastered straight lines with little effort, but the curves were giving her trouble as the top of the pen swung out of her control. “Grip it tighter at the base there and it should make the writing easier.”

The Ms and the Ns in her name that she was practicing writing in repeated lines over the paper looked well-practiced, like she’d been writing for years. But the Os and the Ds an anything she wrote in the rounded lowercase was more elementary, about on the same level as the letters Ben could write.

Tamara pretended not to know that Mond retaught all of her daily lessons to the boy at night when they were supposed to be sleeping. She knew she would have to do something to end it eventually, but she also had noticed a frightening downturn in Mond’s overall appreciation of Tamara, and she guessed that it was directly linked to the way Tamara treated the boy. The more apathy she showed at this point, the better it would be for the mother-daughter relationship she was trying so hard to foster.

She had been able to convince Mond that she shouldn't see the boy during the day anymore. She hadn’t told her it was because his medicine made him look and act something more akin to a hibernating ground squirrel than a human. Every once in a while, Tamara would hear a loud thump from the room upstairs where he was penned in. She never reacted to it in a way that Mond would notice, but she couldn’t help wondering what could possibly be happening up there when he was about as mobile as a calcified starfish.

This happened while Mond was practicing her calligraphy. “Why don’t you go back to cycling through the whole alphabet, Mond,” Tamara said. “I’m going to go make us some lunch. Would you rather steamed asparagus or some of that spinach soufflé from last night?”

“Spinach,” Mond said quietly, her lips pursed tightly as she struggled to make the arch in her lowercase a.

Tamara stood up and walked out, closing the accordion door behind her. She stalked carefully around the corner to the stairs and up them, stepping over the three that creaked. The room at the top of the stairs had a large, darkly stained door with two locks high up on the frame. Tamara deftly undid them and burst into the room, using the door both as a shield and as a weapon, whichever was needed.

But when she got into the stark, gray, dimly lit room, she was relieved to find that her startling entrance was not necessary. The boy was lying on his side in his bed, just as she had let him that morning, eyes half open, and a thin line of drool dripping out of his mouth.

“Good boy,” Tamara said with a sigh and a grimace. In his present state, he reminded her all too much of the last few weeks she had seen her sister. He always resembled her too closely for comfort, but now, with his lifeless gaze and vulnerable position, she could easily have mistaken him for his mother.

“You’re the monster here, you know,” Tamara whispered as she walked out the door and closed it quietly behind her. “Between the two of us. I’m just protecting myself. You’re the monster.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Rise and shine, you unhygienic delinquent.” Gus leaned over Ben, grinning annoyingly into his bleary eyes. “Please count the number of days since you last bathed and feel my pain as I myself realized it was more than seven.”

Ben moaned and shut his eyes tight against the light coming in from the window. “I realize that a new day comes every twenty-four hours, but do you always have to be so happy about it?” He tried to turn over and put his back to his brother-in-lash, without realizing that Gus was pinning his shoulder to the bed. “Get off me,” he half yelled, half pleaded.

“Whoa there, Johnny Raincloud,” Gus said, smile fading. He straightened up and backed a few feet away from the bed. “What’s got your bonnet in a bundle?”

Ben stared up at the lightening ceiling. “Medias,” he said shortly.

Gus frowned. “The land or the—”

“The mushroom, Gus,” Ben snapped. “It’s a mushroom. Everything in these damnable hills is controlled by that damnable mushroom.” He covered his face with his palms, rubbing the sleep and frustration out of his eyes. “There’s no way to escape any of it.”

Gus was silent. Ben waited behind his hands for a witty comeback or a lazy retort, but he didn’t even hear him shift his weight. After a few quiet moments Ben sat up, swung his feet around to the floor, and stared at them. “Just when I thought things couldn’t go anywhere but up.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” Gus asked seriously. It was the first time in Ben’s memory that he had ever said anything totally seriously.

Ben didn’t look at him. “I’m leaving, Gus,” he said. “I know…you don’t know what you’ll do without me and all that, but I have to go. I hope you can understand, maybe someday forgive me even. Or just forget me. That would work too.”

“Okay,” Gus said without hesitation. “Well, do you know where we’re going?”

Ben looked up at him. “What?”

“I mean, none of us has ever been There before; do we know where we’re going or how long it’s going to take to get—”

“What do you mean ‘we,’ Gus? I said I’m going.”

Gus sighed. “Ben. You’re delusional if you think you’re leaving us here. I guess if you want to operate under the illusion that you’re alone, Martha and I can walk a few paces behind you or something, but I really think that’s a little childish, don’t you?”

Ben felt his face heating up. “You want to come with me?”

“You don’t look like you’re in a position where I could convince you to stay, and like you said, I don’t know what I’d do without you, so it seems Martha and I have to go.”

The two boys looked at each other. Even though he was sitting and Gus was standing, looking down on him, it was the first time Ben realized that he was taller than his brother. Perhaps it was because this was the first time Ben had felt as if Gus was treating him as an equal. Gus and Martha were both sixteen, and though they had never treated Ben as inferior, or had lorded over him the fact that they were two years older than him, there had always been an unspoken hierarchy in their home. But here, in this moment where Ben was unwittingly, involuntarily calling the shots, he realized that it had been unspoken because it had been untrue. As much as Ben needed them, they needed him right back.

“So where are we going?” Gus asked after the long silence where Ben had been organizing his emotions. “Do we know a basic compass direction?”

“I don’t care too much at this point. I was thinking…maybe west.” For a split second, he thought he had felt the vines of paralysis creep up his legs and into his throat, but the feeling vanished so quickly he dismissed it.

“West. What’s west?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “The sunset?”

“Okay, master navigator,” Gus said, saluting. “So when are we leaving, now that we’ve got our heading?”

Ben slouched. “I…I don’t…I can’t…” He looked up into Gus’ eyes, trying both to hide and divulge the pain he had clung to since his fight with Tess at the catfish pond the night before.

“Hang on,” Gus said, again with his foreign serious tone. “Have you talked to Tess about this yet?”

Ben’s eyes closed and his head bowed. “She…isn’t coming.”

Gus laughed shortly. “Okay. That’s a big load off,” he said jovially. “It would be so awkward with you two and Martha and I, I mean, us being lashed and all and you being…well, whatever you are.”

Sudden anger coursed through Ben. He shot death glares at Gus. “Oh, that’s just fine, make jokes; it’s not like we’re people with feelings or anything, Gus. It’s not like we had a catastrophic argument unlike any other argument we’ve ever had in the…who knows how many years we’ve known each other.” He had stood up and was about to go for Gus’ throat when he saw Gus shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be so thick, adrenaline junkie,” he said, taking a small step back despite his cool façade. “She’ll come.”

Ben cooled down at his tone. “But she—”

“She’ll come.”

“I told her last night—”

“She’ll come.”

“You don’t understand. I’m tearing her in two—”

“Is it just me or is there an echo in here?” Gus asked incredulously. “I’m telling you, Ben, she’s going to come. If you seriously leave she’ll seriously follow you.”

“How do you know that?” Ben asked. They were both standing awkwardly a few feet from each other now, Ben still retaining his fighting stance, and Gus almost falling backwards onto his bed in his attempt to look nonchalant.

“Come with me,” Gus said, turning and walking into the other room. Ben followed him and sat down at the table while Gus rummaged through the sparse cabinets looking for something delicious, or at least edible. “I know that she’ll follow you the same way I can say definitively that Martha will follow me once I tell her I’m going with you.”

“Gus,” Ben said painfully, “Tess and I aren’t lashed. It’s not the same.”

“It is the same,” Gus said. “You and I aren’t lashed, but I immediately said I was going to come with you, didn’t I?”

“You’re my brother,” Ben said. “I mean, you’re practically my brother. What would you do without me?”

“And what would Tess do without you? She’s as much your sister as Martha is, if not more,” Gus said. He had found some apples and begun slicing them thinly. “How many times have you two run into each other without planning it? You’ve told me the stories; I don’t my mediocre education prepared me to count the number of impromptu middle-of-nowhere meetings you’ve had together.”

“But she has a real family too,” Ben insisted. “I doubt they’re going to be as forgiving as you and Martha and allow her to leave by herself, let alone jump on this rapidly growing escape wagon with a bunch of people they’ve never met before.”

“If they’re anything like me, which,” he shined his finger nails on his shoulder, “everyone strives to be, they’ll understand. If Tess has shared half the number of stories about you with them as you have about her with us, they’ll get it.” He put the apple slices on the plate and brought them to the table, sitting down on the bench next to Ben.

“You’re saying, if I had told you back there,” Ben said, gesturing to the bedroom they had just left, “that Tess and her family was leaving and I was going to, you would have let me go?”

Gus bit into an apple, purposefully spraying juice into Ben’s face. “I’m not saying it would have been easy.”

Ben took a slice of apple and bit into it, chewing slowly. If asked last week to predict anything that had happened in the past two days, he certainly wouldn’t have come up with an accurate guess.

“So,” he said after a long pause and about five slices of apple, “do I go and find her and ask her again to come?”

“You could,” Gus said, swallowing his thirteenth apple slice and rolling off the bench onto the floor. “Or you could just leave. If the past ‘who-knows-how-many years’ are any indication,” he said, closing his eyes, “she’ll know you’re going and she’ll find someway to go too.”

Chapter Nine

The sky was still dark as Ben sat on the railing at the corner of the balcony. The raven was perched as close to him as the thickness of the branches would allow, and he was tempted, in the cold cheerlessness of the morning, to reach out and try to pet the creature. He felt close to nature this morning. Later, he would find this strangely fitting.

He sat there for hours and waited for the sun to peak over the canopy. He smelled it before he saw it; first-light always had a slightly biting taste to it, and so many of Ben’s nights had ended early this way, with him watching the morning come, that the experience was like being in the kitchen while the cook prepares a familiar meal.

“Ben?” a groggy, croaking voice came from the doorway behind him.

“Sorry,” he said, turning to look at Martha as she walked out, her arms wrapped tightly and protectively around her. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

She shook her head and yawned. “Gus was snoring; I was bound to wake up eventually.”

Ben smiled and turned back to watch the horizon. “I’m going to see Medias today.”

“I heard,” she said. She came to stand next to him, leaning over the railing. “Geneva works at the employment offices twice a week.”

Ben blinked slowly. “Do you know why?”

She tucked a long, shining black hair behind her ear. “You were labeled ‘denied,’ right?”

“Do you know why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

Ben sighed. The raven croaked loudly, splitting the silence with a pickaxe. “I wish I could remember,” he said. “I feel like I would know if I…could only remember.”

“I...” Martha started, then seemed to swallow the following words.

Ben turned to her. Her eyebrows were knit together in either confusion or pain or a mixture of the two. “What?”

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. “I…I think I remember something about you,” she said. “Not something that would have anything to do with you being denied. But…I’ve always had this feeling about you, and I think it comes from somewhere, like a memory.”

Ben waited. He watched the conflictions on her face.

“I don’t know, you understand.” She was looking down at her folded hands. “It’s just…a feeling.” She put another stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t say I actually ‘remember’ a time when you weren’t around, when it was just Gus and me, but I feel like that time existed.” She looked up over the yellowing canopy towards the lightening sky. “A time when you weren’t my brother. When I didn’t have a brother.”

Ben still waited. He could see that not only did she have more to say, but he could see that her efforts to remember were hurtful ones.

“I feel like you were in Medias alone before you came to live with Gus and I. I don’t know why you and Gus can’t remember it like I can. I think you looked…younger.” She turned her head slowly and tiredly. “Do I sound crazy, Ben?”

He examined his own expression in his mind. It felt like scared. “I…think…well…don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you are.”

She laughed. The first yellow beam of sunlight popped over the trees, and both of them knew the conversation needed to turn somewhere else. “Is Tess going with you?” Martha asked?

Ben smiled involuntarily. “What did Geneva tell you?”

“She asked me when you had gotten lashed,” she said, practically grinning.

Chapter Five

“Well,” Tamara began, keeping her voice low and collected, “you remember my sister. She was calm and dutiful; I believe you yourself once went so far as to call her obsequious.”

Yes. I remember your sister. I remember you, as well. For instance, I remember the day you left me and gave your word that you would never come back.

“I’m not coming back,” she protested. “I’m here on behalf of my sister. She’s dead.”

Naturally.

“Naturally?” Tamara asked, still keeping the usual shrillness out of her voice. “There was nothing natural about her death.”

I mean, naturally she has died after trauma like what she has experienced.

Tamara paused, keeping her thoughts off her face. “You knew, then.”

I can feel when one of mine dies. I did some investigation into the circumstances surrounding her. It was a terrible tragedy, but losing life to give life is as strong a fate as dying on the field of battle.

“The life she gave was not worth her sacrifice, and she did not give it willingly,” Tamara said coldly.

Is there something wrong with the child?

“The child sapped her mind until, when he was born, she was little more than a well preserved corpse possessed by a spirit.”

You have harsh feelings against this boy then?

Tamara hesitated. “I am apathetic; I care only about my sister’s final wishes,” she said. “In her last lucid moments, she told me how deeply she hoped for a good home for her son. He is in my care now, but you’ve known me since childhood; I am not a mother.”

It’s too late for that, Tamara. You cannot hide your emotions as well as you think you can; I can feel your hatred for this boy. You don’t mean to bring him here because there is a better home here than with you. You bring him here because you can’t stand to look at him.

“That is not the case,” Tamara said, trying not to take the bait and lose her composure. “Of course you’re too wise for me to fool you into thinking that I want this child as my own. My intentions for coming here are more than what I’ve said. But they do not have to do with any emotions I have in or out of this boy’s favor. I am scared for the safety of people Out There who come into contact with this boy and his obviously formidable powers.”

You think that because your sister died due to complications in childbirth, her son is obviously the culprit? Do you realize how often these things—

“My sister went mad. She did not just die.” Tamara’s voice went flat and she struggled to keep from gritting her teeth.

Silence.

“I am asking for help,” Tamara said. “Before I left, you said I needed to do that more often.”

You’re not asking me to help. You’re asking me to relieve you of a burden.

“He will be safe with you and the rest of the world will be safe without him.”

What is his name?

Tamara blinked. “What?”

What is the boy’s name?

“He—he doesn’t have one. He was just born and his mother is dead.”

What was his father’s name?

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I didn’t know him.”

And you didn’t name the child yourself?

“No. I don’t…I am not….my daughter’s name is Mond because of the moons in her eyes. I don’t name things well.”

You have a daughter?

“I took her in two years ago.”

I thought you said you were not fit to be a mother.

“I’m not. Mond and I are only together temporarily. Until I can find her a better home.”

A pause. If I am to take the boy, I will take the girl as well. As payment.

Tamara’s eyes widened in shock. “Payment? In what way does a child ever count as currency?”

You don’t want the boy. You do want the girl.

“I just told you, I’m finding a different home for Mond.”

I can feel your lies, Tamara. You think the girl is worth something. Either I take both or I take neither. Come back to me once you’ve decided.

Tamara could hear the finality in his words. Even though she didn’t want to end the conversation—it didn’t feel over for her part—she knew there was nothing she could do now. She turned and left the clearing. She had a long, cheerless walk through the once-familiar hills. She had forgotten the rank smell of decay.

Chapter Three

Dinner with Geneva’s lashlings was worse than what Ben had prepared himself for. The food, though somewhat dry for his taste, wasn’t the worst part of the meal. The worst part of the meal was that he was reminded that, wherever he went, he experienced the same chasm of loneliness that it seemed others had found a way to cross.

Living with Gus and Martha wasn’t always painful—Martha was his sister and Gus had told Ben on several occasions that he felt lashed just as much to Ben as he was to Martha. But going to dinner with lashed couples, watching the way they interacted with each other under the full and safe assumption that the strength of the relationship could not fade no matter the actions of either side…something about that unsettled Ben and always made him feel inadequate.

Living in Medias, he had grown accustomed to not remembering the beginnings of things. The same darkness that clouded his past—When did he first come to live with Martha and Gus or was it they who came to live with him? Why was Tess not his sister when he felt so much closer to her than to Martha? Was he really related to anyone? Who and where are their parents?—clouded everyone around him as well, so he could get no answers from anyone if he ever asked why he didn’t have a lash.

Everyone at the dinner party was lashed, most of them, like Gus and Martha, had been together for years, but the two couples throwing the party hadn’t been lashed for very long. But neither of those time spans meant anything. The lashlings couldn’t remember a time before they were lashed any more than Gus and Martha could. Time was not an object, which was both the answer and the question of why Ben could never be lashed.

After the party, Ben told his family he was going to go catfish fishing on the edge of the hills and wandered his separate way, knowing that he wasn’t fooling either of them. He did walk to the edge of the hills and sit by the catfish pond, but instead of fishing, he lay back and watched the darkening clouds pass overhead, covering and uncovering the stars as they opened bleary eyes to the night.

“Ben?”

He blinked, sighed, smiled. “Yeah.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” Tess said quietly, coming to stand over him and let her curly hair hang around her face and frame her against the sky.

Ben patted the ground next to him, and she took the cue to lie down at his side. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“The loosening,” he said. “You?”

“The same. It got to the point where I couldn’t remember a time where I wasn’t cleaning house, even though I knew there had to have been one.”

“There was one. I remember it,” Ben assured her. “That time when I saw you in the market and you told me that you didn’t have anything to do and that you’d just left the house because you could.”

“Oh right. I remember that. Thanks.” He heard her hair rub against the grass and felt her breath against his ear when she spoke again. “What was wrong with you?”

“Dinner party,” he said. “Couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t eat poorly seasoned food for dinner every night.”

She laughed lightly and turned her face back to the sky. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah.”

“I was in a shop today where some musicians were playing what they called ‘cloud music,’” Tess said.

Ben laughed once loudly. “What did it sound like?”

She pointed to three wisps that caught the gray-blue of twilight. “It’s hard to describe, but it really sounded like them.”

Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I want to leave Medias, Tess.”

She let her hand fall into her lap. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she rolled onto her knees and brushed the dead leaves off of her back. Ben closed his eyes and bit his lip as he listened to her walk off.
He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t wish that she wouldn’t have been able to walk away.

Chapter Two

“This…this thing,” Tamara yelled in disgust, pointing to the writhing creature on the bed, “is not, cannot be, and will never become my sister. My sister was a woman of poise and perfection and this thing is three parts animal.”

“I don’t understand,” the doctor called over the screams of the woman on the bed. “The baby is perfectly healthy. He was extremely large for a newborn—”

“She was in intense pain through labor,” the midwife offered.

“She has been degenerating into this mass of worthlessness for the past nine months,” Tamara yelled. “She started out the beaming lady she always was and slowly lost her mind to that vampiric demon-child—”

“You’re not suggesting the fetus did this,” the doctor said sternly.

“I know it did. It took until she had nothing left to give. It sucked her dry until she turned into this half-dead urchin…”

Suddenly the baby screamed. Not the regular cry of a needy child, but a shrill, hawk-like scream. Everyone in the room went silent, even its mother, who rolled to her side, laying her hair in the pool of sweat that had collected on the pillow.

The scream droned on, higher and longer that the baby’s tiny lungs should have been able to support it. The mother joined with a low, guttural moan, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

Tamara, who had been on the verge of angry, hot tears for the past several hours, now let go and wailed, running from the room.

The sterile white hallway outside was short for the number of strides it took Tamara to barrel down it. And then she was out into the brisk dawn, the sun sluggishly pulling itself over the distant hills of Medias. Looking into those hills, Tamara let out a scream of her own: frustrated, pining, and fearful.

The child must die, her first thoughts.

You could never kill a newborn baby, her second thoughts.

My sister will die soon, herself.

That child will be mine to care for.

Mond will be his sister and he will kill her.

He will do to me what he has done to my sister.

Someone has to take this child away from the world, strip him of any power, and keep us all safe.

The hills were scarcely more than knolls, especially from this distance, but Tamara knew the secrets of Medias, and it knew hers, so the size of those hills was something she felt and didn’t see.

She turned around to the midwife lodge and judged how much time she had to herself, then turned back and sprinted towards those hills. Someone had to do something, and it wouldn’t be her. She had done too many things in her lifetime. It was someone else’s turn now. Someone who couldn’t say no.

Chapter One

“I…guess no one’s coming…?” Gus moaned.

“Lying down on the floor…inside the house…with your eyes closed…” Ben said, rolling his eyes. “Yes. You’re an excellent look out. No one could possibly penetrate our fortress of a home.”

“Oh ho, well trained and suitably qualified Sergeant,” Gus said. He laid his arm heavily across his eyes. “I’m sorry to have failed you. In the future, I will more diligently try to follow your example and sit at the table gorging myself on raisins.”

Ben laughed and glanced out the window. “I think we’re safe anyway, despite our best efforts.”

“Well,” Gus said with a flinch, “maybe not so much. Martha may or may not be a bit frustrated with our day filled with games and our conspicuous lack of completed work by the time she gets back.”

Ben popped another raisin in his mouth. “We can take her, I think.”

Tiny streams of sunlight filtered through the trees and into the window. Gus sighed comfortably as he wiggled across the floor towards them.

“Have you seen Tess lately?” he asked.

“Well, yesterday we met for lunch, but only for a few minutes. Her housemates have been rambunctious of late and she’s been spending extra time cleaning up after their…er…shenanigans. Her words, not mine,” he added.

“And before that? How long ago was it before that?”

“That I’d seen Tess? I think it was a couple of days before.” Ben narrowed his eyes and popped another raisin. “Why do you care?”

“I just find you two highly intriguing,” Gus said, rolling onto his side to face Ben. “You know you’ll never be lashed, right? If you’re not lashed yet…”

Ben shook his head. “Just stop there, Gus. Tess and I… That’s not us.”

“Okay.” They looked at each other, Gus probing, Ben defending. “It is too bad, though,” Gus said pointedly after a moment.

Ben didn’t say anything. He just popped another raisin.

As the minutes slipped by, the spots of light on the floor of the cabin slid across Gus’ face, further and further up the wall. After a time, Gus’ breathing became even and loud. Ben still sat at the table, his bowl now empty. He listened for sounds of the troop that was roaming around the woods looking for their hideout, sounds that were unlikely to come.

He stood up and walked to the open door and leaned his elbows on the balcony railing. The air was wet with autumn; Ben watched the goose bumps rise on his arms. A large black raven landed on a branch of a tree near where he stood. She looked at him directly and croaked, in the beautiful and chilling way that ravens have. She probed and he defended. Then she cocked her head, croaked again, and flew off.



The forest around him was alive with movement, which threw him off. Usually the forest looked like the decaying wasteland that it was because few animals could easily find safe homes in the trees and had to live elsewhere. It was their wild activity that gave life to the eternally dying woods, and it was so rarely encountered en masse—usually only one or two birds or squirrels came at a time searching in vain for food.

All the creatures in these hills knew the land’s deep secret, the truth that lay buried and constantly growing under the soil and bark. Most animals that could avoid this landscape did; they gained nothing from it, and it could take so much without their knowledge.

Not so today. Ben watched a group of small birds take flight over the yellowing canopy and fly off towards the western hills, away from the center of the forest.

Ben heard from below him soft footsteps accompanied by the whips and scratches of tiny branches being pushed aside. The air was quiet but thick, and Ben could only guess how far off the person was.

“Gus,” he called softly. “Either our foes have sent a scout and we’ll actually have to participate in this game now, or Martha is back.”

Gus gave a little groan and slowly rolled into a kneeling position. “Can we just pretend that it’s not Martha and fire our ammunition at whoever they are?”

“My guess is that the game ended hours ago.”

“But I would really like to continue postponing whatever it is Martha has for us on her to-do list.”

“So…you think pelting her with pebbles and berries and thwarting her attempts to reenter her own home is going to have a good outcome for you, then?”

Gus blinked. “You’re right.” He stood up and walked over and grabbed the now empty bowl of raisins and brought to the small sink filled with plates and silver from the night before. “I’ll wash these if you’ll change the sheets.”

Ben went to the second room where the three beds were and began stripping off the linen. He had gotten as far as refitting the first two beds when he felt someone begin climbing the ladder to the door. He finished quickly and stuffed the dirty sheets into the closet behind a box of his old clothes. By the time he walked back into the kitchen, Martha was standing in the doorway, kicking dead leaves off of her shoes.

“I assume I would be correct in guessing that you two have done approximately nothing all day?”

Gus and Ben shared a look of innocent confusion. “What makes you think so ill of us, sister?” Ben asked.

“Some boys came into the shop today asking around if anyone knew where your ‘hideout’ was. I guessed, being the sly warriors that you are, you would forgo the rules of engagement just this once and laze about in your house.”

“Surely you can’t be serious!” Gus mock exclaimed.

“It doesn’t matter to me, really. We’re going away for dinner anyway.”

Both Ben and Gus’ brows furrowed. “Where exactly is ‘away’?” Ben asked.

“Geneva, a friend of mine, knows a few sets of lashlings who are looking for people hungry enough to try their new recipes.”

Gus’ eyes brightened, and Ben concealed his anxiety with equal happiness. “No dishes then. Let’s go.”

Preliminaries (Installment Six)

Preliminaries (Installment Four)

Dear Ben,

Don’t tell your friends (or siblings, or whatever they are) but I like you the best. You were the first one to talk to me. I saw you first out of everyone. You’re someone I want to keep with me always. If I could have a dæmon, I think I would want him to be like you. Which I guess means I must see part of myself in you.

You’re childish, Ben. Inescapably immature, but not naïve. You’re well aware of what is out there that can hurt you, and you do your best to not seek it out, to not react to it, to not let it affect you in the slightest. You know it’s only a matter of time, but you also know that as long as people just think you’re a child, they won’t expect you to accept what you’re trying to postpone accepting. You’re where I am when I can be, and I like that about you.

You’re favorite color is red. Your favorite pastime is drawing. You don’t like using pencil first because, and you like the way crayons get smaller when you press hard against the paper. You don’t like television or movies because looking at screens gives you headaches. You once found a steel ring lying on the floor of the library—it had engravings of the Chinese Zodiac and you wear it everywhere. You tried to give it to a girl once, but she said it was too big for her and she didn’t want you to stop wearing it. Her name was Tess.

That’s who Tess is. She’s your best friend. You want her to always be your best friend, but she is growing up too quickly for you. The thing you’re most afraid of in the world is that Tess will find someone to replace you, someone who wants to marry her and take her away from you.

It’s a complicated relationship between you and Tess, isn’t it? You love her absolutely, more than you love yourself. You don’t listen to what people say about crushes and infatuation; the way they describe it, none of it sounds like what you feel for Tess. But it doesn’t feel like she’s your sister, either. You have a sister, and you love her too, but it’s not the same. Martha. She’s your sister.

Which means Gus is like your brother, because he’s always over at your…house? You don't live in a house, do you? But wherever you live, Gus is always there, and he’s not there for you, although you can’t believe he’s there for Martha either, because they can’t even look at each other without it registering on the Richter scale.

Do you have parents, Ben? I don’t feel like you do, but then again, I feel so much like I want to be your mother that maybe your real mother just doesn’t register in my head. If she is there, she’s not much of a mother.

Or is she? I don't know, Ben. I want to meet your parents if you have them. You don’t feel like an orphan, but I guess maybe you are. I don't want you to be an orphan, though.

How old are you, Ben?

Love,
Mommy

Preliminaries (Installment Two)

[transcript of a voicemail left on my phone at 4:56 AM EDT]

-Why do you get to hold the phone?

-It's my effing phone, Martha. Shut the eff up.

-Great, Gus; now she's going to love us. Be a real man and use the word, not the letter if you're going to pretend to be vulgar.

-Get off me! You're fogging up my glasses.

-Mom? Mom! Are you there?

-Here Ben, you talk to her while I try to extract myself from my Suction Cup Garfield of a sister.

-Yeah, Gus. Mom! We got your letter! Well, more like we watched you type it. It's so great to hear your voice! Or at least feel your thoughts directed at us for the first time. It's too bad you've got so much work on your plate right now--it's pretty cramped up here, if you can't tell. Gus and Martha aren't really getting along. But you don't know them yet, and I want don't want to ruin the surprise.

You were nearly spot on about everything else. I guess you haven't quite nailed down Tess, which is okay. She's sleeping right now, otherwise she'd want to talk to you, assure you that she's not hurt or anything and that she's doing her best to speak up, but I guess Gus and I kind of do monopolize your attention. It's just how we're made, I guess. Oh wait! But it's not your fault! Shoot...

-Mom? Mom, can you tell Gus and Martha to stop putting super glue on each other's toothbrushes? They got mine last night and I almost used it before I noticed the hairs sticking to it.

-Introduce yourself, Avis.

-I'm Avis mom. I'm younger than Ben and Tess and I keep my toothbrush in the same cup as Gus, so...

-She doesn't want to hear about it, Avis.

-We don't have that much longer, Mom. We just wanted to call and say hello, introduce ourselves. It's great to hear you know we exist. But keep your ear to the grindstone--

-Wrong appendage...

-Nose. Right. Anyway, keep up your work until we get there, okay? Don't want you to flounder and have to drop us before you get to pick us up. Can't wait to see where you take us!

-Love you!

-Love you Mom!

-Love you! I'm excited!

-Can you buy me a new toothbrush?

-Avis!

-I mean, love you!

Preliminaries (Installment One)

Dear ya'll,

I haven't even met you yet. Honestly, I haven't even thought about the possibility of your existence until today because October has been such a crappy month I forgot that the glory of November was planning on following it. But let me tell you, now that your nondescript forms are in my head, I'm excited for your eventual arrival!

Right now, I'm thinking of a group of four or five. And I'm picturing an especially outgoing boy, and I want to name him Ben. What do you think about that, my potential extroverted character? I also sense an insecure and introspective girl named Tess. Maybe she's your sister, Ben? Or your best friend? Or your twin? I'm really deferring to you here, Ben, because you're the only clear image I've got so far. Do you see a mentor in your life? I feel like I can see one...his name...is....Okay, so we'll work that out later. We have time. Two weeks? Psh, we've got forever. Don't worry Ben.

The problem is, Ben, I don't think you're the main character. I don't know about Tess, but I'm not really feeling it from her either. So, you know, as these two weeks wear on, if you could bring some clarity as to your position, I would really appreciate it.

I think we're all going to be fast friends. Ben and I have got this great connection going already, so the rest of you have to stop hiding behind him soon, mkay? Thanks.

Lots of love,
Mommy