Chapter 22

Now when I tell you that Warren was far beyond frustrated with the past twenty-four hours of life, I do him far too little justice. You see when a man finally adapts his mind to a new mindset he expects consistency. It happens once every few years in what you might call a normal life. A child comes to love and cherish his home, her mother, his father, etc. Then comes school—and a change must be made. Once this is handled, very little changes for a great developmental period. Then the breaking from the family, the flying from the nest, per se, occurs and a mindset change is in order. Same with marriage. Same with having children of your own. Same with retirement. And maybe a final change to an old-folks home. But that’s only what, six changes? Maybe eight if there’s a move involved.
I ask you to consider Warren at this moment in time: right now his worldview has been so flipped, stretched, shattered, pasted back together, and dropped again outright. And somewhere in the back of this bruised and battered mind of his, Warren must have been thinking to himself that it was on purpose. He couldn’t shake the feeling that what seemed to be a string of extremely unlucky events could pin him on a rickety barge with a turtleseapigduckfrogthing whom he had decided to call Ed for short was actually a carefully calculated and arranged route. But his mind wouldn’t expand out big enough to comprehend what purpose might lie behind such a view.
So he discarded that thought every time it came up, counted himself among the unluckiest people in history (next to Adam, Brutus, JFK—or any of the Kennedy family tree, for that matter—and Han Solo). Then he remembered he had to qualify even that thought—on of the unluckiest people in his history. Which he really wasn’t sure was his anymore—or that he’d ever be able to return to it.
And now he had left the woman he’d never imagined would love him but did, the only man he could trust his life to in whatever universe he was in, and…whatever Old Fred had become to him. He really couldn’t place that one. But for the third time that day (if indeed days really mattered anymore) he was forced apart from his friends without an inkling of an idea of where he might be headed or what he’d have to accomplish to get back to them. How much more could he possibly do?
Of course, the moment he thought of that, he shuddered. There was no way he would have believed any of this possible but three days ago. When he really thought about it, he had no idea what was “possible”. That word and all of its connotations now meant absolutely nothing to Warren.
With this supreme frustration in mind, it comes as little to no surprise that when Ed asked Warren to “sing” nothing of the sort happened. It wasn’t that Warren didn’t like music. It wasn’t even that Warren was an incapable singer. As a matter of fact—as his shower at college might prove if it could talk—he sang often enough.
Instead Ed found Warren’s left eyebrow cocked high in disbelief. “You won’t? Why not?”
Warren resisted the urge to answer as Livingstone might and instead satisfied himself with a decisive, “No!” Ed slumped a little and toyed with the handle of an oar, as if wondering why such a simple request had received such a bitter rebuttal. The thought obviously occupied his mind for much longer than Warren seemed fit, so that Warren’s patience grew thin, and finally shattered. “Why would you want me to sing? That’s absurd!”
This awakened Ed a little. The large eyes rolled towards him. “Are you sure you’re a son of Zoe?”
“I don’t what you’re talking about; and that’s a good question for you. Why do you keep calling me that?”
“So you are not? Why did you not object earlier if I was wrong in my assumption?” Ed asked curiously.
Warren sighed. The brightness was giving him a headache—only closing his eyes brought any relief in darkness. “I don’t know. What is a son of Zoe anyway?”
A sort of epiphany lit Ed’s eyes and he turned away. “A Way Walker.”
Warren’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion. It was meaningless information to replace meaningless information. So he tried to clarify and asked, “What?”
“Come sit over here while I row, and I will tell you a tale.” Warren massaged his temples with tired fingers and inhaled deeply with intent to refuse, but obeyed. “When I was two tides a hatchling, my father, a bargemaster following ancient custom, took me for my first barge-drift. We had stacked supplies so high—enough for half a tide, it seemed—that I hardly found room to sit!
“I still remember the first feeling of floating so freshly. The bob and chop of the short stiff waves, the slap and push of the oars in the water, the smell of freedom itself clung to the channel. We left the nest behind—our destination was a delivery point three channels to the east, but very far down. I thought we might find the sea itself if we weren’t careful to spot our landing.
“My father assured me that nothing so tragic as that would happen; he would land us perfectly, I knew. But the thought of a sea! Of water without walls, legend told. Who could navigate such a thing? Nevertheless, I wanted to come to the last wall, grab ahold, and peer out at it.” Warren waited for Ed to continue, but found the creature lost in its own imagination, searching an infinite sea, a place without walls. He almost pitied it, something which had lived comfortably in what sounded to him like an underground labyrinth of water works—like a lab mouse, comfortable in searching the maze for cheese. At length, Ed perked up and continued.
“That never did happen. Though I did venture far past the last landing on a Major Fifth once, looking for the sea—at least until my supplies were short and my determination had failed. But that doesn’t matter. We were on a Minor Third when I saw my first Way Walker. He walked like we Tokleks did—but oh how straight, so smooth, so powerful a stride did he have. And bright! As you cannot imagine. He strode right toward us, above us, glided past my awestruck eyes. I remember his gaze, when his eyes found mine, he smiled. Such joy lit my heart. It was as if I had never lived before that moment. I asked father why they were so bright; he told me it was to keep everyone happy. But that was a half-truth, hidden wisely from my growing heart. It was under much different conditions that I learned their true commission as sons of Zoe.
“As my forty-second tide passed, my father gifted me with a barge of my own—that I should help speed his deliveries. I gratefully accepted the charge and began solidifying the process of memorizing the Ways I had started learning as a hatchling. At first, I actively searched the tunnels for any sign of a Walker, but as tides came and went, I found they were much rarer than I had hoped. Still, I managed to see them about twice as often as any of my friends. I always thought they liked to be wanted to be seen, and if they made everyone happier, why wouldn’t everyone want to see them, and thereby improve how often we saw them? It made perfect sense to me—but I found I was an idealist, a rare hatch if there ever was one among the Tokleks. For most find pleasure in fulfilling their purpose, grinding their noses day after day in the channels, never wondering about the sea.
“The trip on which I discovered the true purpose of the Walkers was a rather short one. It was but a half-step change from our Major Third with a single landing in-between. As I passed that landing, I heard some sort of commotion on the docks—it turned out one of the young bargemasters had absconded with his father’s boat, looking for adventure. The last thing I heard before I drifted out of earshot was his father praying a Walker wouldn’t find his son. That didn’t reconcile within me—but instead of chewing on it, I tossed that bit aside and settled into my seat to enjoy the last third of my journey.
“Shortly thereafter, that tell-tale glow on the water, which always made my insides quiver with anticipation, glistened past me. I turned and saw a Walker striding calmly above me. I caught his eye and he smiled at me. I shivered with delight and watched him recede into the distance before me. But before he disappeared, he stopped and turned. Something I had never before seen—and never have since that day. He had come down to water level! I grabbed my oars and rowed for all I was worth, hoping to catch him while he had stopped.
“As I came around the side of the barge, I saw the Walker standing on the deck of the boat, smiling at another young Toklek who sat enamored and unblinking in the rowing seat. Then the Walker turned his gaze to me. He mentioned my name and I trembled.
“He said, ‘Come here,” with such a sweet, rapturous voice that I immediately obeyed, tying my barge off on the other. He placed a hand on my shoulder—I was filled with such warmth! ‘I need your help,’ he told me. I nodded hastily. ‘Hold this tie; do not let this barge move.’ I gladly took the rope in hand, and he smiled and thanked me—then turned his attention to the other young Toklek. I felt a twinge of envy, that he held the Walker’s focus. Until he started speaking: ‘Is this boat your charge, young one?’ The little one didn’t know how to answer, so enthralled to be the center of a Walker’s attention. ‘Are you to deliver C4dL5 from Dt5s to Et4e?’ A slight shake of the head with wide-staring eyes. ‘No?’ The shake was somewhat more confident. ‘Then by the code of Zoe, I sentence you for pirateering, obstruction of good and orderly flow, and improper trade conduct.’ The Walker’s words, however, fell on deaf ears and the young Toklek only stared at the magnificent figure before him. ‘As you make no plea of innocence to said charges, I, a son of Zoe, will henceforth carry out your just punishment.’
“Then the Walker stretched out his hand and took the young one by the neck. He pulled a long, thin shining object with a pointed end from somewhere within his clothing and pointed it at the throat of the now-squirming Toklek. I was confused, but far too mesmerized to interrupted with a question. Then the Walker honored Zoe briefly and forced the object through the Toklek’s neck, just above the grip of his hand. I remember most distinctly the sound of liquid dripping into liquid and a faint gurgle from the young one. And then something happened which I had never before seen—the light faded from the young Toklek’s eyes and he stopped moving. The Walker then dropped him into the water—he fell straight to the bottom and passed beneath the barges, then was no more. I looked up anxiously at the Walker who smiled brightly at me. I’ll never know where I got the courage to speak, but I managed to ask him a single question: ‘Will he be back for the barge?’
“He laughed and patted my shoulder. ‘No. He will not. Now tell me, what is your charge?’ I pulled my orders from my pocket and handed them to him. ‘Very well. Can you tow this barge to the next landing as well? You will be rewarded for your trouble.’ I nodded happily. ‘Excellent. Take heart little one and forget this day,’ he told me and then ascended to the walkway.
“When he had vanished from my sight, I busily roped the barges together and made my way to the next landing. When I arrived, I found that the Walker had made good on his promise and I had a double portion of supplies loaded on my barge for the return trip.
“As far as the fate of that young Toklek, I never thought more, until the passing of my father many tides later. When he lay, wracked with the pains of old age, on his deathbed, he assured me that his death meant nothing as horrible a thing as it was. I still didn’t understand what was happening. He told me he would no longer be with me; I asked if he were leaving on a barge trip without a return. He answered that yes, in a way, that was the case. And then the light faded from his eyes and his breath stilled.
“In that instant, understanding poured into my soul like water into a broken barge. What had happened accidentally to my father, happened purposefully on that barge so many tides ago. I was at once filled with sorrow for the absence of my father, indignation at the Walker for taking that young one’s life so easily, so cheerfully, rage at myself for standing by, for watching the event like a channel-side juggling act.
“Fortunately, I never had another chance to see a Walker before the Reckoning. It’s been too many tides for me to remember the last time I even saw another Toklek after that, much less a son of Zoe.” Ed trailed off and silently kept rowing.
Warren didn’t figure he’d get any more of the story—but wasn’t sure he could attain any more information about these sons of Zoe, these enforcers of whatever system these Toklek’s were a part. But he still couldn’t figure why this Toklek hadn’t tried to murder him on sight—if indeed its story were true and if it thought he were a son of Zoe. So he decided he had to ask, and Ed’s response intrigued him.
“You weren’t bright enough to be one—but you looked like one.”
“So you thought I meant you no harm?”
“No, I knew of no other name for you. But it really was your companions that worried me.”
“You said yourself you couldn’t see them,” Warren pried.
“But never said they weren’t there.” This was true enough.
“Let me explain something to you; the Reckoning did more than simply isolate me from my fellow brothers.”
“What do you mean?” Warren interrupted, “What is this Reckoning?”
“Because of it, I am bound to row in channels of pure light; my brothers in channels of total darkness.”
“But you said you were alone!”
“I am alone.”
“But…what?”
“The Reckoning sundered our world: those true to Zoe remain in the light, those against her wither in shadow. I know not how you straddled both worlds, but because I could see you, I knew you were not with the usurpers of the other world—those fallen sons stalking the eternal night. But I cannot say as much for your companions. I fear them, but I also fear for them. If they could not see me…I don’t know what horrors might find them.”
Warren’s pulse had been rising. “Where are we going? I can’t just leave my friends back there to whatever nightmares this opposite world of yours might throw at them!”
“I told you.”
“Yeah. ‘Somewhere safe.’ What is there to be afraid of in your light?”
“I did say that to get you on the boat, but I also told you we needed help. Just because we live in separate phases doesn’t mean the boundaries are absolute.”
Warren’s eyebrows didn’t match his voice when he sighed and agreed. “So where are we going?”
“To visit Zoe.”
Warren wanted to thank him for a straight answer, but wound up asking him how long it would take. Ed’s answer did not please him.
“Depends. How well can you sing?”