Chapter 22: Awake, Asleep

Miko:

Fighting erupts around me in a loud twist of swings and footsteps. What is this place? This feels similar to the worlds I visit in my sleep, but everything is masked in darkness. Sounds hit my ears, but my eyes never opened. I see things occasionally, or at least I think I do. Images pass through my mind on some days; on others, the whole world is a shadow with sounds and sensations occurring randomly. In this state, everything is too difficult to decipher. A voice drifts through the lake of my mind, and I can hear the words — I try to reach out to them or answer their beckon, but I cannot move. Words without a face are my only attachment to reality as I drift through the lake, floating on shallow water as the temperature changes from warm to cold at a moment’s notice. Time does not flow correctly here. Chains of events happen intermittently, without context or reason.

It is too difficult to form thoughts here or to digest information that comes through as noise. A sizzling thought appears in my brain and disappears before I can catch it long enough to dissect it. Once I remember, and before I forget, the thought is always about my brother. I hadn’t seen much here, but the voice was his; I knew that for sure. His sentences were brief, and his tone sluggish. The more words he said, the more difficult it was to understand. He spoke to me and about me with reverence and sadness. Maleki begged me to be there with him, but that didn’t make sense. He was the one who was not with me. Where is here and there for either of us? Am I dead? Am I forced to witness the remaining of time and the world’s progression? If that is the case, there are many feelings in death. Witnessing without sight ruins the point, so this surely isn’t a curse in death. Too many senses are activated in this place for my body to be dead.

What was that thought again? It escaped me swiftly, but it felt so close. I tried to remember; I try hard and often, but memories are too difficult to pull from. Was there something to remember? A sharp sound that started as a shaking bellow and ended in a prolonged high-pitched scream dislodged my attention. Sweeping sounds and collisions occurred in circular directions around me; my back was warmer suddenly than the water. Air crashed around me — my body felt it first — then my ears let the sound carry throughout the shallow lake. Only when blades, beasts, or people collided did sounds like these erupt. As far as I have been here, these sounds have been the first of their kind. What were they?

Without sounds, my mind wandered infinitely, without purpose or destination. My mind was like the thick forest of the life trial: thousands of interlocking thoughts and branches that connected to each other too easily to stay on a single path. Recalling any information past the surface-level feeling of remembering it was too difficult. And yet, I was awake, consciously aware of my state of being and what I am without. This was hell — my own personal one.

Grandmother believed in something greater and lesser than ourselves, but she never pried on my own faith. Instead, she told me stories of other places and people that represented something more than our own personal conflicts. They did sound similar to the stories Grandpa would tell, but he never appeared to really believe them; they were just fables, fantastic tales that may have hints of truth but are meant to be epic rather than truthful. The stories she told were real to her, though, real enough that she based her entire life on their teachings. Part of me thought that was stupid, but she was always good to me, so maybe there was depth to the stories she told. They profoundly impacted how she approached her life, but their importance was mostly lost on me. I had tried to pull at the stories and remember their contents as they were told to me, but when I tried, only wisps of the feelings they invoked washed over me. That was the hollow cruelty I had endured for some time now as memories and time escaped me.

How long had it been?

If I can count the seconds as they pass, perhaps my consciousness will not fade, and I can begin to recall that thing that escapes me.

One — Two — Three

“Please-“ a voice whispered coldly.

What was I doing? Why do I keep forgetting? I struggle against the water I am lying both above and within, but nothing happens or changes. My body did not move, but the water rippled around me in a circular motion. Perhaps if I can sing a tune that will return my memories, that worked in the story, Mother told me about the peasant who forgot he was the king after taking a tumble. What was the tune? I began humming until, and the words filled my mind.

Sirs speak, and soldiers slur.

“I’m so…tired.” The voice spoke weakly.

Is that my brother's voice? How long has it been since I heard it last?

One — Two — Three — Four

“This journey is long and arduous.” A different more calm voice echoed softly.

I have heard those words before. They were Nomen’s so long ago.

Sirs speak, and soldiers slur. Swords swing and sp-

“And when your brother can no longer light the path ahead?” A voice cut me off.

I had overheard this before when we were still in Quavoris. Kallen asked the question, but what was Maleki’s response? How long ago was that? A year? Two years?

What was I doing again?

One — Two — Three — Four — Five

“Miko, before you go to sleep, don’t forget about your appointment with the healer in the morning.” A sweet voice trickled above the water.

Grandmother Kecila…She always made me feel normal. Maybe she is right. Sleep, I thought with eyes that blinked together like glue. I just need some sleep.

Maleki:

The creature circled with wings that beat like fierce spring winds. I had not seen it approach, but its home was no mystery. In this wasteland, the only vertical objects were the pale-barked trees that had shadowy openings. This winged monstrosity surely came from one of them that I had passed. There were few trees, and yet there was a lot at the same time. With nothing else in this leveled oblivion to look at, they caught my eye quickly. What stared back felt like a hundred ominous eyes.

Miko slid off my shoulders with a careful thud. I no longer possessed the energy to lay him gently as I did before. Two painful months, and I was still unsure of how close I was. All my wounds burned and throbbed with a pain unlike any other I have felt. Old wounds opened up from the constant movement, occasionally leaking blood down my arms and back.

Surviving this creature was not even a contemplation. I did not know what it was capable of, but it would either kill me or I would kill it. If I made an error, my suffering would be over, but I would not welcome it. Any remaining energy I could muster would be used for this fight, and if I didn’t pass out, I would keep moving. The process was both complex and slow, yet simple. No skips, tricks, or mental prowess would dig me out of this situation. All I could do was dig my heels into the rough black dirt and keep moving forward until I woke again to do it all over. A hell dedicated to me. A life around Miko but without him while I slowly wither away.

The beast made another pass with its mighty wings and thin, stick-like legs. It was fast, but I got a quick glance at the colour of its wings, a pearl white that almost blended in with the trees. With what little energy remained in my body, I stood tall — as tall as I possibly could. My scythe leveled out my posture and allowed me to form a defensive stance that could prod forward with the bottom or swipe down with the blade. The sound emanated from the creature was a gurgling, scratching hiss that mixed together like a bird and a snake. What landed in front of me was a strangely accurate depiction of what my brain had imagined when I heard the sound. It was equal parts bird and snake, with thin black legs that ended in a forked foot with three talons. The wings had stark white feathers that sat above black tufts of fur. However, the torso and remaining areas of the creature were covered in light brown scales that shone brightly in the sun. Its head was covered in scales that formed over the base of the skull and around the snakelike eyes but came to a pointy beak that you would see on a woodpecker. The winged beast lived in a horrifying middle ground between two creatures I was well aware of, but the creepiest trait was the abnormally long neck that bobbed in a slithery motion as it sized me up. Had I been out here long enough for it to see me as food? I knew I was growing weak, but if these things are getting courageous enough to stand directly in front of me, it must mean they can see how tired I truly am.

Sharp red eyes analyzed my flesh from six feet away as the thing debated its hunger against my strength. Another bizarre thing was the shape of its wings. The part of the wing that would be compared to the bone between my shoulder and elbow was normal for a bird, but the wing bone after the elbow joint was arched back and much longer than the rest of the body. Father had many stories of beasts that used to frighten me when I was younger, and unfortunately, I remember this one’s warning song. “The Strix — with legs like sticks — deadly kicks — picks flesh from bone with teeth that licks.” The story was always exaggerated with clawing gestures before he swooped one of us up like a bird would a mouse, carrying us into the air as we laughed and screamed.

Before I could settle on the first good memory I had pulled in a long time, the Strix pulled its head backward and stabbed its wings into the ground to allow it to lurch forward. This move allowed it to generate force and speed quickly without taking off into the air.

I stepped backward lazily with one leg, providing me with enough room to drop my shoulder and dodge the attack. The slithery neck weaved left and right in an attempt to find a new weak point in my stance. I was being conservative on my stamina, but if I played defense for too long, I could meet the same outcome as being overly offensive. For now, I would wait for a prime opportunity to appear where I could act with little wasted effort, but that would need to be before I got torn to shreds.

Air sprawled out around the wings of the Strix as it sliced through the distance between us and nearly reached my arm. My scythe fell to the side without moving the bottom snath that connected to the ground and intercepted the attack with only a light graze against my skin. A small line of blood dribbled down my arm. These feathers lining the outside of the wings must be sharp like razor blades to cut through my skin that easily. The beast attempted several more of these swift attacks to overwhelm me and nearly did, but as it lurched forward to deal the finishing bite and throw me off balance, I kicked the bottom of my scythe and slammed the pole side deep into its scaly chest, and sending it flying backward. Miko may be the smart one, but I know some things, too, one being that if you want to fly — your bones have to be hollow. This doesn’t mean you aren’t dangerous or can’t generate a lot of force, but even with scales, your body is not as resistant to opposing forces. Even knowing that fact, I had to be careful — beasts didn’t follow the laws of man, so it was equally as dangerous to misjudge my opponent on comparisons to simple animals; the Strix was a lot more than its dividends.

My attack did nothing in the way of scaring it away or removing my audition as the role of a meal. If I wanted the Strix to go away, it would need to be injured or dead. I have to ensure I don’t die first since ties in nature aren’t a win. I’ll still die if I get too hurt just from fighting this thing. With that in mind, I picked up the pace and started my own onset of blitzing attacks. The metal blade on my scythe glimmered in the sun as it swirled forward at the winged beast with fierce passion. Circling to the side of it, I swung hard using my hips and attempted to damn near tear the thing in half, but it used its wings to push back and avoid the blow. I exhaled three deep breaths in a hunched form while carefully watching my opponent. The tiny cuts it delivered against my arms burned intensely as this trial’s effects dug into the wounds. My head pounded from the waste of energy; I had gone well over my reserves, but my body hadn’t realized that since it was busy fighting to stay alive. Plus, I already tired myself out carrying Miko before the Strix attacked. Wait…Miko…

I had circled around to cut the beast off, but now there was distance between Miko and me. The Strix had come to a similar conclusion as it shifted its head and eyes between us. While I was defending myself, Miko was a free meal. Those red slits in the Strix’s eyes turned away from me as they darted to my defenseless brother, who slumbered on the blackish-brown dirt. As far as weapons go, those wings were comparable in speed and sharpness, but at an extended length, they didn’t match my scythe. Knowing that — I gripped the bottom of my scythe like a spear — dashed forward with a big step — set my heels into the ground, and swung the blade over myself. Fangs unhinged above my brother’s arm, but before they could connect, I cut clean through the scaly torso of the Strix. The beast made a clicking sound before accepting its death and falling to the side.

Before I could double-check our surroundings, my eyes went black.

My head pounded when I woke, but I was alive or somewhere in between. I could barely move these days. Exhaustion filled me daily before I even stood, yet here I was standing again. Before today, I had no materials for a fire, so we both had survived on the berries despite my reluctance to eat them. However, there were only so many, and feeding anything complicated to Miko would be impossible, so any remaining berries would need to go to him. With these feathers, I can make a fire and cook whatever meat lies within. Taste wasn’t a concept anymore, but if there was anything nutritious in this Strix, I might eat it raw. My body desperately needed protein to feed my screaming muscles and hopefully lessen the pain in my wounds.

The fire only burned for long enough to cook the meat inside the scaly chest, leaving me in an unlit cold field with five or six handfuls of cooked meat. After feeding Miko his daily berry, I ate the dark red meat. I closed my eyes in acceptance of the first real victory I’d had in months; while small, it kept me motivated enough to wake the following day feeling slightly less miserable.

That brief glimpse of hope dissipated after a week of walking and eating all my food. The burning sensation that cooked up a throbbing headache never disappeared after eating the food and destroyed any hope that the trials’ effects would just be me being hungry for an authentic meal. If I stood in one place for too long to catch my breath or close my eyes from the glaring sun, it was essentially sealing my fate for the day and causing me to fall forward or stumble backward until I woke a few hours later.

After ten suns passed, another Strix appeared, looking more confident than the last. Unfortunately, that meant I had gotten even weaker since the last time, and the meal was a slight lapse from the harsh world before me. I ignored the pain that lagged my limbs and slowed me despite a long day’s haul and fought the bastardly beast until we both sat across each other with blood swimming down our stomachs. While I had walked away as the victor, the Stix had still landed a decently sized cut that grazed my stomach in a horizontal line with my belly button. Nomen was not here to wrap the wound, and I only had enough gauze to cover my torso twice, so this would only hold the skin together at best. There wouldn’t be enough to replace or wrap any wounds after this since it was our last roll.

Being too afraid to accept the condition I was in, my eyes averted my body. I forced myself to look, to know what I was capable of. A large gash in my upper right chest was scabbed at the sides but open to the air. Air sliced into the ravine-like cuts in my back — These were the worst wounds; It was best that I could not see them. My shoulders were bruised, a deep purple-black that spread down my back like mold. My forearms and calves stung from hundreds of small cuts that I had gained from the sharp vine forest of the last trial. I had gained many cuts during that trial, which healed on their own but reappeared due to this trial’s effects that squeezed previous injuries up to the surface. The worst of the tiny cuts were gained from carrying Miko through the outer edge of the dense jungle, which was made more difficult by having less range of movement with my scythe. My soles and palms blistered and ached from the scorching dirt — they were there, but I could not feel them as strongly as I once did. Dried blood crusted over most of my wounds, caking my skin like mud on a horse’s hooves. I looked away from my body, rejecting the state of it so that, once again, I could pick my brother up and continue.

I had walked for twelve suns before the first glimmer of hope caught my eyes. A massive wall stood tall and far into the distance. There was little to make out from this far away, but in my heart, I knew this was The Garden. It had to be. This site was similar to one I had seen before — a month into the journey of this trial when I turned to look at the previous. If this was an accurate estimation, I still had another month of walking, carrying, and fighting. There was no more of that left in me. I shake and shiver in my sleep from the terrors that face me during the day and the bitter cold that steals my heat during the night. There is no escape from this place.

One more week, please, I thought to myself.

A few days later, the third Strix appeared to challenge me. It, too, had failed but left a nasty open cut on the side of my lower leg that showed a white layer of flesh underneath the skin.

One more day, please, I begged the sky.

I stopped counting the days after I passed out from dragging Miko as far as I could. Counting the suns was a consistency that reminded me of my progress and that the rest of the world was still moving despite this torturous journey, but my consciousness faded frequently. On several occasions, I had woken up and found myself carrying or dragging Miko by his armpits.

“Wake up. Just show me a sign that you are still there, Miko,” I whimpered.

Thinking took too much energy, so my body limped along in spite of my weakened mind in order to get Miko to The Garden. The nights were no longer cold. I did not willingly lay down to rest anymore; my body forced that all on its own.

How much longer can I bear this? I screamed internally as I shook Miko’s shoulders.

The fourth Strix lay still at my feet. I did not remember killing it. What was I becoming? These brief bits of sanity left me analyzing how much of me I had paid to get this far. I pushed the thoughts away to let my subconscious mind take over in a slow, limping fashion. Whatever remains of me doesn’t matter so long as Miko gets healed. That was my promise; I won’t break it.

The Garden was so close now, but my pace was significantly lower in this thrall-like state. If I wanted to make it, I had to be awake for the rest of this.

One more step, I panted with lips too dry to form words.

I can’t feel my legs. At this point, I’m not sure they are there, and I’m too afraid to look down and check. Miko’s weight over my shoulders had become my own at this point. Every fall, every tumble, and every step we made, we made together. There were no more trees ahead of me, just The Garden’s mighty walls.

Let tomorrow be my last sun awake, but I will make it there, I demanded inside myself.

I counted every step as my pain-filled body begged me to stop — to fail for a moment would be giving up on this whole journey and every miserable step I had made before. That wouldn’t happen. Seven thousand steps brought me close enough to feel The Garden’s atmosphere. Even being outside of it, you could tell. This place was different — everything Nomen claimed it to be and more.

Just a few more steps, I thought.

Miko lay limp over my right shoulder as I fell to one knee, ten steps away from the carved-out section of the wall that looked man-made. Imperfectly cut but with vines and grass that grew into the opening. A painfully slow breath left my lungs as I took the last remaining conscious breaths I could muster.

One more step.

One. more. step.

One…more…step….

My hands caught the sides of the walls as I got once a single glancing look into The Garden. Beyond me was a sanctuary filled with trees of every colour, shaded by the mightiest towering tree to which no story could do justice. If any place could heal my brother, it was this one.

My eyelids rolled back, and I felt myself fall into the vine-covered hill within The Garden’s walls. Good luck, Miko.