episode 27: "Get Up, Stupid Man"

Interlude

Master. Bregon. He is transformed. Consumed by his conviction. Still, it takes days until the rumours of the source of these reaches we vassals. It is another gate. A great opening, not just to one world, but too many.

I hover about his councils. Though I hear nothing, I am drawn and unable to stop myself. Brokk speaks to me, calls me a fool. Ever since his wounds he has watched me and thus, everything. But he is Bregon's body and soul. More so now that Master’s…

No. Not Master.

Bregon. It is Bregon's purpose that drives him. Brokk's fear maddens me a little. I remember some of him from... before.

He led me once. I was his trusted lieutenant. 

Now he cowers.

But not without reason. Once more, Bregon notices me where it is imprudent to be. "Let us put you to use then," he says. And I am kicked through the gate.

Get Up, Stupid Man

- David -

Everything is grey. There are vague shapes in the mist, possibly trees, possibly other people. I look down and see I stand at a crossroads. The paths and roads that diverge from this spot change every time I look. I see Babe a short distance away. I try to speak, but my voice is muffled and dies as a whisper. He looks at me, eyes filled with reproach, and walks away, his gait slow and plodding. I chase after him, only to find myself running down one of the myriad paths on a tangent to his. I glimpse Takara, lurking in the bushes between the paths, only to find that I cannot, no matter how I try, move from one path to the other. I try to find my way back to the crossroads to start over, but I know it is too late. When I last see Babe, he is disappearing over the horizon, even as Takara slinks away on some inaccessible tangent, lost in mists.

I bolted awake and drew a shuddered breath to call Takara to me. My voice caught, and failed, and I threw aside the bedcovers, ready to scramble after her.

Bed Covers? I looked down at the flowered sheets still clenched in my hand. I stared at the wood-panelled wall in front of me. A wall. The memory of another wall, of collapsing bricks, burned through my mind, exploded in a vision of pure white, obliterating recall in a flood of pain and I fell. I heard a distant sound, my voice, and then others.  

Rough hands shook me, sending the pain into horrid oscillations through my head.

"David, can you hear me?" came John’s voice.

"Fuck John, quit fucking shaking me. Let me be. Fuck." I pulled my arms from his grasp and sank down to the floor, which was cold through the thin flannel of my pyjama bottoms. I put my head in my hands, waiting for the pain to recede, for my vision to return. John knelt beside me, and I could sense Kristen behind me, vibrating with worry.

John let me be.

"Where’s Takara? What happened to you, David? What the fuck did those bastards do?"

"I." And as I tried to remember, I received another warning flash of pain. "I, I don’t remember."

"You don’t remember? Takara’s gone and you come back unconscious? You’ve got to be kidding."

"I can’t - the pain, it gets in the way. I remember a broken wall, then, nothing, just a flash of light. Takara..."

"Where is she, David?" asked Kristen, her voice gentle.

"Gone," I said. And I sobbed, a horrible sense that I was responsible sweeping over me. "I was fighting with someone, and then she was gone. I don’t know how or why. I can’t remember anything except going to the Napier’s Farm."

"Goddamit," said John, "Then I’m going over there."

"No!" came from Kristen and me together.

"You saw them," Kristen continued. "Saw her."

I knew instinctively that she was talking about Ellen. "They brought me?" I asked.

"Shigeto was driving you in your car," said Kristen. "He seemed sad, but Ellen was angry. When she got out of their truck, I swear it was as though we were underneath the tree about to be struck by lightning. It was not a good feeling, let me tell you. And when she spoke…" There was a pause, and John’s face hardened. "I didn’t like it; I didn’t like it one bit." Kristen’s voice was small as she said this. "She told us not to go back to her farm, not any of us." Kristen turned to John. "Look what she’s done to David. I’ll not be risking any more. That witch has caused enough harm to this family."

"What about Takara?" asked John.

"I don’t know, truly, but she’s not family," said Kristen.

"Yes," I said, "she is."

"Oh," said Kristen.

"I’m not going back to Toronto without knowing. I need to remember, to figure out what to do, or I know I’ll never get her back," I said.

"Those bastards have her."

I tried to remember, once again, and was rewarded with another shock of pain. "No, I don’t think it’s that. I don’t know what happened, but it’s not that simple. I need time. I need help, the kind that isn’t in Russell."

“Who?" began John, but Kristen put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don’t think that you want to know," I told him. I was thinking of Louise and Cecily, but who knew where this would lead me? I just knew that it would not stop until I found Takara. Perhaps I would accept that invitation across the gate if I could bargain with the Fae. I gave a slightly hysterical laugh, realizing I would do it if I had to.

John interrupted my thoughts. "Are you sure? We could call the police. Or if that’s not wise, well, we could go over with some friends."

I looked at him. "What, like a mob with torches and pitchforks?"

John shrugged. "If she means that much to you, well, I wouldn’t rule it out."

I pulled myself back onto the bed, wishing the room would stop spinning. I looked him in the eye, "Nor I." None of us spoke of the worst possibility, that it was too late to do anything – but I don’t think any of us were willing to face that possibility.

Despite their protestations, I was standing by my car only a few hours later, a poorly understood sense of panic driving me to go. Kristen looked as grim as I’d ever seen her. John, well, he looked patient, ready for whatever came. I felt a wave of gratitude, gave him a hug.

"We’re here, whenever you need us," said John. "You say she’s family, then she’s family."

"If she’s family, then there better be a wedding," said Kristen. She hugged me. "You hear me, David?"

I smiled, a little grimly, I was sure. "I hear you, Kristen."

The drive home was tricky. The monotony of the highway invited my mind to wander despite the radio. At least twice, I had to pull over on the shoulder to let the white blaze of my burnt memory fade.

I had intended to visit Louise as soon as I arrived home, but I was exhausted. It had been foolish of me to drive in the condition I was in, but I would have gone mad if I hadn’t taken at least one step towards a solution. All my thoughts of bed flew out the window when I saw a diminutive shape huddled on my front porch in a shapeless coat, many sizes too large. Takara’s grandmother.

As the guilt hit me, my mind went to that gap in my memory where Takara had disappeared. My vision seared white. I braked in the middle of the street and willed my sight to clear, and slowly it obliged me. I became aware of sound and sight, tapping and blaring noises, making the residual pain in my head throb in counterpoint. I turned to look towards the noise and saw Takara’s Gran rapping on the glass of my driver’s side window with a small brown bottle, leaning on a cane. She paused only to give the three or four cars trapped behind me on our one-way street the finger as they honked their impatience.

I rolled down my window.

"Hurry," she said. "You have things to do. Choices to make."

I stared a moment, and there was an angry yell behind me.

I jolted the car forward and squeezed into a parking space on the street, between a pickup and a snowbank. Takara’s Grandmother was already walking back to my house, the cane steadying her in the snow on my unshovelled sidewalk. Unloading both my suitcase and Takara’s, I didn’t know what to think. I needed to think but dared not or the pain would return. As I juggled the luggage, several drivers gave me a honk and a finger. By the time I got to the porch, Grandmother was pacing back and forth, the little brown bottle clenched in her fist.

"Where is she?"

I didn’t venture further than one foot on the bottom step. There was something about her stance that spoke of fury. "I don’t know," I stammered, shame and worry nagging at me.

"Hmph. Figures. Too much magic for such a little man. Drink this." She thrust the brown bottle at me. I stared at her, disbelieving I would trust the murky liquid within, but then, without considering the consequences, did as she commanded.

Pain blossomed once again in a white explosion. This time, a wave of crackling darkness followed it. The black wrapped itself around the light, wrestling it into braids of memory. I felt new pathways opening in my mind until I could encompass the experience.

I fell, and Takara’s Grandmother was beside me. She dropped the cane and grabbed my head with greater celerity than I would have expected. Her calloused hands were in my hair, the thin papery texture of her thumbs tight against my temples. My mind was forced open and I could finally see what had happened, the explosion, the power that I had stolen from Ellen and the flash of light that had seared my memory closed. Now, it was my heart that resisted the dark fingers untangling my memory, that didn’t want to face up to what had happened. But Grandmother was too impatient for my pain and confusion. She muttered under her breath as the glow faded.

"Grandmother stood, picked up her cane and leaned on it to kick me.

"Get up, stupid man."

I lay where I was, stunned, my body numb and disconnected from the horrible memory.

She kicked me again.

I pulled myself up. "The power connects you to her, as does your desire. If she still lives, find her."

And she walked away.

She had nearly gotten to the end of my sidewalk before I came to my senses.

"Wait," I said.

I didn’t know if she heard me; I was reeling from my returned memories. If she did, her gait never faltered, determined but slow. She seemed a woman burdened, not just by age, but by other responsibilities as well.

Her indifference filled me with a sudden rage, for I remembered Takara’s talk of family responsibility; of how they should support each other, no matter what.

"Dammit — I said wait." This came out as a shout, and suddenly I was in front of her, barring her way. "That’s it? That’s all the advice you have? This is your granddaughter. Help me!"

She looked at me, and in her eyes I saw a depth of weariness that unsettled me. She looked up at me, towering over her, my fists clenched, my breath laboured. Then she glanced to either side of me and I noticed some of my neighbours. It was downtown, so many were on foot, heading to the streetcar or some local shop. They paused in the cold-chivvied rush to their errands to watch the drama unfold.

"You children always think that everything is about you." She tsked, and shook her head. “It is worse when it is about you. Do you think I do not care because I do not pause in my tasks? Do you think that the games that you children have been playing have no consequences? That cracking the Capstones would do nothing more than anger the Inquisition?" She shook her head, anger suffusing her. "I hoped to be dead before the awakening happened, as inevitable as it was." She took a breath and continued.

"I would retrieve her myself, if I could, but where I cannot go in my age, you must go in all your foolish youth. The mad girl trusted you, more than she should." She grabbed my hand and held it so tightly I winced. "But perhaps you have more strength in you than I expected. Let us hope so. But now, I must go and prepare, in case you fail." As she said this, her voice broke, and she looked away. When she looked back at me, her eyes were damp, but determined.

"I must do even more should you succeed. Bring me back my granddaughter so that I can tell her of all the work that I have had to do. Yes?"

"Yes," was all I could say.

"Good. Go see that witch in the shop. She’s a clever one — not as strong as the other, but her mind is sharp and her mind is subtle."

She slumped a little into herself, once again, and left me standing in the middle of the sidewalk, until one of my neighbours muttered an "excuse me" that jolted me out of my confusion and I headed back to the house.

As I headed back to my front door, the remaining onlookers continued throwing suspicious glances at me over their shoulders as they sluggishly went about their errands once again. Ignoring them, I dragged the bags inside, staggered upstairs shedding clothes, intending to change and head straight over to Louise’s shop. Instead, I fell into my bed, still rumpled and smelling faintly of Takara, and slept.

image by sangam sharma at unsplash