Chapter 11

Our steps are careful, but quick. Alyssa doesn’t seem really excited about needing help, especially from Hombre, but I think she realizes that it’s necessary. As she presses her hand against the inner wall of the tower, for additional support, she grimaces, but I don’t hear a word of complaint. Walking seems to consume all her focus.

Hombre notices me looking back and mouths: “Don’t worry. I’ve got her.”

I sigh and then look at Beth, who’s wrapped her arms around herself as she stares at the steps in front of her. She’s totally silent. We all are. As Ki marches us down the stairs, with seemingly relentless energy, I shiver and try to place the gory scenes of the battle out of my mind.

I’m not sure whether it’s because of the Ibeicuation or if this area is just less used, but most of the rooms we pass are abandoned. A few have the tell-tale signs of recent occupation: scattered papers; fallen chairs; or even small groups of huddling civilians, who breathe out sighs of relief when they see that we’re not Iifa or her soldiers. The rooms not dedicated to offices or administrative spaces are guard posts, most of them sparsely manned. When any of the remaining soldiers see Ki they salute him, but stay at their stations. We seem to be the only ones using the stairwell.

As the sounds of the lobby above finally begin to fade into silence, Hombre asks, “What’s with these murals, Ki?”

Ki glances back at him and responds, “I’m not quite sure, I’m afraid. I’ve never had the time to read through all the inscriptions and have only walked the full extent of it once.” He sighs, “I wish I’d paid more attention, now. I know that they’re supposed to depict the history of the Philosopher’s World. A full understanding would be helpful.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like things are going well in it,” Beth says, quietly. Her gaze is fixed on a large panorama of a battlefield full of black-robed soldiers, some with the Third-Eyes Alyssa had noticed before, fighting against a rust-red army. The large, spiky creatures are in the corners of the fray, surrounded by imposing beings who are covered with a shell and armored skin. I can see another new type of creature, too; centaur-like, but with the lithe body of a deer instead of the powerful one of a horse. This one’s possibly even more bizarre than the others, with three tails and human arms, the torso more like that of an ant than anything else. My gaze drifts across the image and then lands on a man at the edge of the battlefield, his ribs exposed. I have to look away, my stomach rolling as I remember that man who died just outside the doors.

“We should look for the next artifact in these murals,” Hombre says, his eyes trained on the images. “If they show history, then it’s got to be there,”

I see Ki turn back to look at him, frowning, “You don’t know what the next artifact is?”

Hombre almost misses a step, causing Alyssa to land on her leg awkwardly. She hisses in a breath, glaring at him. Hombre whispers a “Sorry!” to her before he looks back at Ki to ask, “You do?”

Ki nods, “A paintbrush.” He then recites, absent-mindedly, “The bracelet, the paintbrush, the key, the crown. Each a symbol for the soul, broken, as it spreads itself around.”

“What was that?” I ask, frowning. “What are you reciting?”

He looks at me, his gaze piercing, and he smiles as he turns back to focus on the stairs, “It’s a rhyme they taught me as a child, when I was brought to study with the Noble Protectors. It’s something all our children learn. Perhaps the only bit of knowledge we still have about the worlds beyond the portals.”

“The paintbrush, the key, the crown . . .” I look down at my wrist, frowning. All those symbols are on my bracelet. Is it meant to serve as some guide? For the artifacts? But then what are the spider and the dragon doing there, too? And, of course, why is it in my possession?

“We saw the paintbrush before,” Alyssa says, her voice strained. “It was in that part where they were making those first . . . things in front of the tower.”

Ki shrugs, saying, “It might be wise to keep an eye on the murals as we descend, then. Perhaps there might be some clue. I wouldn’t rely on it, though, the last panel is at least a hundred years old.”

We walk in silence for a few minutes, and I ignore the pain in my feet and legs, instead choosing to watch as the war ends and the creatures all retreat. It seems that the black-robed side has won, as the rust-colored soldiers are nowhere to be found. The deer-ants and shelled creatures return to the golden tower and its city and the focus now shifts away from them as other major cities are depicted. It seems that the spiky beings are everywhere: farming, building, cleaning, manning factories and constructing machines.

“Carmen,” Beth whispers, breaking her silence to turn her wide eyes toward me, her petite features looking even smaller than usual. “Carmen, I watched them die. I’ve never seen anyone die before.”

I meet her gaze for a moment and then look away, hesitant, “I’ve seen people die, but never like that.”

Beth shakes her head, “My uncle on my father’s side died of lung cancer, but I wasn’t there in his final moments. My mother wanted me to see him die, I think to shock me into not smoking.” She rolls her eyes, “Like I needed a warning for that. I remember it, not just because it was one of the few times my parents were in the same room, but also because it was the only time they ever fought in front of me. My father didn’t want me to see my uncle die like that, so I didn’t. Now . . .” she wraps her arm tighter around herself, “Now I kind of wish I had, so I would’ve been even somewhat prepared. It’s one thing to see it in movies, but . . .”

I sigh, “It wouldn’t have helped. I watched my dad die �" of lung cancer, too, actually �" and I wasn’t prepared.” I remember that his last act had been to force Cal and me to smuggle in cigarettes. He’d placed one in the hole in his neck and smiled for the first time in years before coughing violently, throwing the cigarette, still mostly intact, into the ashtray he’d had us bring him, too. He’d claimed, before that last cigarette, that the smell of that ashtray was what sustained him. Cal had hated the way my father would continuously brush off how his bad habit had, at the least, contributed to the lung cancer, but I think smoking was yet another thing that kept my father feeling close to my mom.

Beth looks up at me, “How do you look so calm?”

I blink, and then frown, “I look calm?”

She nods, her eyes sliding away from me, “Yeah.” She hesitates, “You told me your mother left, but I didn’t know your father died. Were you . . . close?”

I let out a snort of laughter, not sure how to respond. Beth looks at me and I clarify, “All my father ever cared about was my mother. I was never sure if he was glad that Cal and I reminded him of her or if he hated us for it.”

“Oh. No wonder you never talk about him.” She hesitates, “My mother was a bit like that, but with work.” A wry smile stretches across her lips, “I’ve always been a disappointment to her.”

I shake my head, “You’re not a disappointment. Everything you’ve told me about her makes her sound like an ice queen.”

She nods, slowly, not looking convinced, and her gaze slides back to the mural.

I chew on my lip and look at it, too. Maybe paying attention to something else might calm me down, since my stomach feels as though it’s twisting on itself.

After a few more panels showing exotic cities, the focus turns back to the golden tower.

“Look! The paintbrush,” Beth says, excited.

The black-robed people are using it to craft a new being, now. Their creation is hunched, with a number of spindles on its back, each of which ends with a bulb.

Ki sighs as he responds, “Unfortunately, I’m not sure this will help us much. We still have a ways to go before we reach the bottom of the tower.”

“Well, it at least helps us that they’re still using the paintbrush here and haven’t destroyed it,” Hombre remarks, a bit of a bite to his words.

Ki shrugs and doesn’t respond.

We walk past a number of new panels before a large inscription appears: “Remembered forgotten.” A rush of different cultures are now paraded by in the mural. The art here is different, words scrawled down the side, as if in desperation, and, even though the other murals had shown some differences in style, these seem to all have been done at the same time, by the same artist. As we keep descending, step after step, this section seems never-ending, until, after what must have been a hundred stairs, the focus seems to finally shift back to chronicling the history of the world.

There are barely any people, now, the creatures almost twice their number. The tower seems to be the only place where the population of people is even remotely what it was.

“What happened?” Beth asks. She looks at Ki, expecting him to answer, and frowns when he doesn’t even turn around. “Ki? Do you know?”

He looks back at her and a pretty smile creeps up her cheeks, almost as if on its own accord. Ki gives her a half-smile and then glances at the mural, “I’m not sure. Some type of extinction, perhaps?”

Beth sighs, “I thought you’d know more than that.” She then grins, her eyes glittering as she tilts her head so that she’s at her best angle, “I was hoping you’d be more than a pretty face. Maybe I’m wrong.”

Ki raises an eyebrow and then lets out a short bark of laughter, “Sorry to disappoint you.”

As he turns back around she flushes bright red and then fans herself. She looks at me, whispering, “Does he have that effect on you? What is happening? I never get flustered. Oh my God.”

I hesitate, feeling out of my depth, “Try to ignore it?”

She rolls her eyes, “You’re about as helpful as Alyssa. At least she tries sometimes, though. I don’t get it, are you asexual or something?” She shakes her head and touches my face, saying, “It’s such a shame. You’re so pretty.”

I feel my cheeks turning red, and I swat her hand down, “What? No I’m not.”

Beth shrugs, “Maybe you’re just oblivious.” She looks down at Ki, pursing her lips, “I don’t like this. I keep feeling like an idiot.”

I bite my lip and wrap my arms around myself, looking back at the wall for a distraction. A new war has broken out. This time, the spiky creatures are the ones attacking, though they’re shadowed by a number of figures which hide from battle. The creatures destroy the magnificent cities, advancing until they reach the tower and the people there are forced to surrender. After they do, one of the spiky creatures goes up into the tower, but doesn’t reappear. This seems to mark a turning point, as the shadowy figures flee and the remaining creatures follow on their heels.

“Why did they stop fighting?” Beth asks me, apparently following the murals, too.

“I don’t know,” I respond and then add, “I don’t think Ki does, either.”

She sulks, “He could at least pretend.”

I’m surprised Alyssa hasn’t said more, but when I look back at her I see that she’s straining, now, too focused on limping down the stairs to pay any attention to the murals. Next to her, Hombre occasionally glances at them, but he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on any more than we do. I should’ve expected that, I guess. Some part of me hoped he might have more answers, though.

They’ve started to trail behind us and I wonder if I should try to help, but once again Hombre catches me looking. He smiles slightly and says, “We’re alright, Carmen.” He looks down at Alyssa and hedges, “Well, kind of.”

She doesn’t even seem to notice he spoke, her knuckles white as she grips onto him. He winces slightly but keeps hold of her as she hops down to the next stair. Maybe now she’ll stop being so mean to him. Probably not, though.

I turn back around. Ahead of us, Ki’s strides are confident, purposeful. He’s listening to his ear piece, and I wish I could see his expression so that I knew whether it was good news or bad that he’s hearing. From the way he walks, it’s impossible to tell.

We pass a room to our left, the first occupied one for awhile, and I see some of Ki’s troops in there, poised in front of the door and ready for battle. I chew my lip. We have a head start on Iifa, but will it be enough? And how much of one do we even have? We’ve been walking for awhile, now, but is she through the doors? And if not, how long until she is?

In the mural, the people and the spiky creatures are busy. They place huge beams and platforms above the old city and then recreate a brand new version of it on top, leaving what’s below untouched. I frown, intrigued. They reconstruct everything on this new layer, the only place untouched is the city around the tower, though they build a huge dome around it for the new layer to latch on to.

Too soon, though, war is raging again. This time the battle is driven by the shelled creatures and the deer-ants, as the mysterious figures hide behind them. This new world is destroyed like the one below, but yet again the forces are stymied at the tower. One of their number goes in but never returns and the others once again disperse.

Why this seems to end the battle, I’m not certain, but it marks a new period of regrowth, a new layer, and then a small peace before the cycle repeats itself once more. This time all the creatures fight, no mysterious figures behind them, but once again the result is failure and a new layer.

By now, though, the creatures vastly out-number the people. I frown as I watch the humans retreat so that they just populate the area around the tower, the creatures taking control of the newest layer. Though it hadn’t looked like a victory, maybe the new beings did win after all, especially as no new wars break out. Now the murals begin to focus primarily on the creatures, only occasionally returning to the tower while life above flourishes.

And then . . . the pictures just stop.

Along with the stairs. Expecting another step, my sore foot slams into the ground a little quicker than I expected and I stumble. We’re standing in what seems to be a dead-end. Great. Now what?

Author's Note

Thank you for looking!