Down a Lost Road

chapter 3 – Confusion


I staggered a full step when I heard my name screamed into my thoughts. Everything reeled, and I almost forgot where I was. I thought I saw my bedroom floor for a split second before my hands hit the soft earth, then all my surroundings rushed back over me. The tent, the swaying firelight, Yatol crouching beside me, concerned and anxious. My mind was too muddled to make sense of it, and my head pounded so hard that my stomach quavered. I put my face in my hands. I heard the older man murmur something, then the shuffle of Yatol’s sandals as he stood up. His hand brushed my shoulder.

“Yentsi. Too much has happened this day. Your mind needs rest. I will show you to your tent.”

I dragged myself wearily to my feet and cast one troubled glance at the elder. As the thought occurred to me that maybe I should nod or bow or say something, he swept out his arms and inclined his head. I stared until he raised his eyes to mine, then I turned and fled from the tent, shaking like a leaf. Why did he bow to me? Who did these people think I was?

I stopped outside the tent, gazing around in terror. For a moment I couldn’t see Yatol in his dark cloak, but then I caught torchlight flickering against him and ran to catch up with him. He led me to a small, dome-shaped tent withdrawn from the others, empty besides the furs heaped against the far side.

“This is where you sleep. Are you hungry? There’s stew, bread, some fruit. Not many things, but there is plenty.”

I shifted my weight. I was hungry, and thirstier than I’d ever been. But I didn’t want to be a nuisance, so I only shook my head mutely. I glimpsed his expression in the dim torchlight, and the way he watched me I knew he didn’t believe me.

“Sleep then,” he said. “In the morning it will be time.”

Whatever that means. I ducked into the tent and threw myself onto the furs, undeterred by the thick animal smell. For a few moments I lay face down in a warm hollow in the pile, the silvery fur coarse against my cheeks. When I almost fell asleep like that, I rolled over and made my bed a little more comfortable, then lay gazing at the sky through a hole in the dome. After a moment I stared more intently at the eerie darkness, disturbed. The sky spread calm and clear above me, an almost pale midnight hue of blue-grey. A few tree fronds swayed in a gentle breeze across the gap, blackest silhouettes against the sky, but otherwise there were no buildings, no clouds, no city backscatter, nothing to block the light of the stars. But the sky was empty.

The realization jolted me wide awake. I rolled off the pile of furs and ducked quietly out of the tent, nearly tripping over something just outside the flap. Yatol. He was just sitting there, cross-legged, watchful, torchlight flickering on his face. It almost seemed like he was there on guard. Somehow the thought didn’t comfort me.

I gave myself a moment to study him. He sat quietly, perfectly motionless – something I could never do. With his dark cloak shrugged back over his shoulders, I could finally see what he wore. A long cream tunic hung down to his knees, with a high collar and loose half-sleeves, and a wide girdle of brown leather that covered nearly half his lean torso. It almost seemed like armor, like it could have been part of a leather cuirass instead of a belt. He wore sandals – or at least they looked like sandals until they reached his ankles, where they laced up his legs around leather wrappings. Besides binding in the loose folds of his dark pants, the leather wraps had a look that reminded me of Damian’s hockey shin guards. Another piece of almost-armor.

From what I’d seen of the other people here, Yatol’s fashion sense placed him somewhere between the guards with their brass-studded armor and the purple-robed elder. Interesting. If I’d heard someone describe his clothing, I would have been skeptical…but Yatol certainly wore it well. I blushed, realizing that I’d been standing there staring at him for what must have been a few solid minutes. But he didn’t seem to have noticed me. Finally I dropped onto the ground beside him, and he started out of his thoughts to glance at me.

“You should sleep.”

“What about you? Don’t you sleep?”

“I need little.”

I frowned at his reticence. Part of me found it ridiculously intriguing, but part found it plain annoying. He was by far the strangest guy I had ever met – so young, but he had the sort of quiet strength and self-assurance you’d expect in a soldier. And that light in his eyes…he was hard as iron. I felt like a complete child compared to him. No wonder he’d hardly given me a second glance. He probably thought he had to baby-sit me or something. Figured.

We sat in silence a few moments, then he unstoppered a leather sack and passed it to me.

“Drink.”

“Wha—” I began, but stopped and lifted it to my mouth.

“It is water.”

And I would have drunk it without him telling me. I don’t know why – I just trusted him. Somehow I think I had from the first moment I’d met him, for all I’d questioned him. Trusting him felt instinctive.

I tilted the waterskin back, letting the warm pure liquid fill my parched mouth. The first mouthful turned gritty from the sand coating my tongue. Before I could force myself to swallow I gagged and spit it out into the shrubs with a shuddering cough. My face burned with embarrassment. Did I really just spew disgusting water all over the bushes in front of Yatol? I wanted to curl up in a little ball and disappear, but when I risked a glance at him from under my hair he didn’t seem to have moved.

I took another long gulp and handed the skin back to him. He took it silently, fit the leather wad stopper back into the opening, and hooked it to his belt. I leaned my head on my knees, trying to figure out how to ask him about the stars. But when I finally spoke an entirely different question spilled out.

“Yatol. This isn’t one of those…where time, you know, when it…” I scowled at the ground, then blurted, “Time is the same here as on Earth, isn’t it?”

He hesitated. “I do not know, but I think it is so.”

“So right now, my family won’t know where I am, will they? They’ll think I’ve gotten lost, or kidnapped. They might even send out a…send out a search for me.”

“Aye.”

I glowered at him in the darkness, knowing he wasn’t looking at me. “What am I doing here? I want to go home. I don’t understand it here. I feel like I’m in a dream. Everything feels like a dream. Why haven’t you told me anything about why I’m here?”

“No one keeps you here against your will,” was the only answer I got, but I thought he sighed as he said it.

“I don’t know why I asked,” I muttered.

Yatol shot me a quick glance, but he didn’t say anything else. After a moment I crept back into the tent and curled up on the furs, stifling tears in the warm darkness.

* * *

All too soon, it was morning. Daylight streamed in through my window, and a crowd of grackles in the magnolia filled the air with raucous whistles and clicks. And Mom stood beside my bed, an expression somewhere between concern, relief, and maternal anger clouding her face.

I stared up at her through sleep-bleared eyes, too stunned to speak. I didn’t need to. As soon as she saw me awake she let me have it.

“Merelin, what on earth where you doing, going missing on us like that? We were worried sick! As if your fath…” Her voice died, and even though I had turned my head away I heard her sigh. “I’m just glad Damian found you when he did. What were you doing down there?”

“Down where?”

“Don’t you remember? He found you down by the creek, sleeping under a tree. He practically had to carry you home. You wouldn’t wake up no matter what he did.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t remember.”

I hesitated. “The creek? No.”

“Not even what you were doing all day yesterday?” She frowned, studying me intently, then added, “We almost called the police.”

I thought about making something up, but clamped my mouth on the lie. At the same time it struck me as odd – they only almost called the police. Apparently they hadn’t been that worried. Somehow I wasn’t upset, just strangely curious.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “It won’t happen again.”

My stomach sank as I said it. I hoped it wasn’t true.

“If it does…” Mom said as she withdrew from my room.

She didn’t finish the threat, but I could guess what she would have said. Well, I was right – it had been a dream. More vivid and surreal than any dream I’d ever had, but just a dream. Somehow the thought made me heart-achingly sad. I closed my eyes, wistful, hoping against hope that somehow I could slip back into it. But, just like a dream, it seemed so hard to grasp and analyze any one of the images I could still recall. All I could see clearly were Yatol’s eyes. If only I could look into those eyes again…

It was just a dream. He doesn’t exist.

I swallowed back the raw lump in my throat, covering my face with my hands.

It was just a dream. I couldn’t let myself get upset over it.

Grow up, Merelin.

I rolled over and glanced at my bedside clock. Almost ten already, but I could have slept another three hours at least. I stretched my arms drowsily and levered myself upright, and found myself still in yesterday’s clothes. Absentmindedly I bent to straighten the hem of my jeans.

A thin trickle of pale sand sifted onto the floor. My breath caught in my throat, and I reached out tentatively to brush the grains.

Heart racing, I made a quick trip to the bathroom for a shower and other necessities. It must have been the fastest shower I’ve ever taken, summer-style, hot then cold. The sight of sand swirling out of my hair and down the drain made me giddy. I toweled off as quickly as I could, tugging on a fresh tee and a pair of non-dusty jeans, ignoring the little voice that reminded me how much I had hated jeans yesterday. My hair was hopeless when it was wet, so I just combed out the drippy mouse-brown length and slipped an elastic over my wrist for later.

Back at my dresser I hesitated over my little makeup collection. I never wore much, certainly not in the summer, but for some reason I wanted to look my best today. Ridiculous, but…just a little lip-gloss would be perfect. I dabbed a bit on my lips, then added a dusting of eye shadow. Not too much. I nodded resignedly at my reflection in the tiny mirror and retrieved the metal circlet from yesterday’s jeans. I held it a moment in my clenched fist, then slipped it into my pocket and ran downstairs, stomping sandy sneakers onto my feet as I went. I caught sight of Mom standing at the kitchen island, so I gave up the idea of getting something to eat and made a mad dash to the door.

“Merelin!”

Of course I couldn’t get past her that easily. She didn’t glance up as I halted by the counter, but I knew she was waiting for an explanation.

“Going to the library.”

Should have been reasonable enough. I said the same thing at least once a week during the summers. It was one of my favorite haunts, for all I got teased for it. I thought my mom would buy it, but she just gave me the strangest, stillest look I had ever seen.

“Tony’s shift starts at one. He could give you a ride.”

I made a face. “Nah, that’s okay. I don’t mind the walk. Don’t worry, I’ll be back by lunchtime.”

She sighed, that thin, tense sigh she always gave when she wasn’t very happy about something. I thought I glimpsed some sad weariness behind her eyes, too, but I couldn’t understand it and didn’t feel right questioning her. She gave me permission with a nod, so I grabbed a bottle of water and a granola bar and bolted out the door before she could change her mind.

It was already sweltering, surprisingly hot for the early summer month, with little curls of heat making the street shimmer. The smell of magnolias wafted my way, and I shivered. I walked slowly, grateful for the water I had brought. The air blasted me, so hot and dry, parching. It felt like…a desert.

I sighed. I couldn’t let myself wonder if I had only dreamed it. After all, the sand had been real enough, hadn’t it? And my legs certainly ached like I’d been walking all day. The thought made me glance at my arms. I’ve always been on the pale side, unlike Damian, but today I thought I’d managed to get the slightest bit of a tan. Not even the teeniest hint of a sunburn. That made my heart sink. No way could I escape an all-day walk across a real desert unscathed. I scowled and pushed the thought aside.

Twenty minutes later I finally reached town. It wasn’t very big, not the sort of place you’d think would boast a university like ours. It had all the quaint parks, antique shops, and old-fashioned gas stations you’d expect in a small town, but also plenty of coffee shops and bookstores for the students. Mr. Dansy’s little grocery store was the first one you came to as you headed down Main. It had been there as long as I could remember, and we knew Mr. Dansy and his usual customers as well as we knew our own neighbors. He practically felt like family – when he wasn’t freaking me out, anyway.

As I turned onto Main, I caught sight of him on the sidewalk outside his shop, sweeping up broken glass. His round face shone bright red and glistening with perspiration, but he beamed a smile at me as I crossed the street.

“Mornin’!” he called. As I joined him he waved a hand toward the shop and said, “Go right on in if you like, store’s open and all. Just cleaning up a bit out here.”

“Oh,” I stammered. “What happened?”

Mr. Dansy waved in exasperation toward the far side of town. “Oh, some hoodlums from the school threw some bottles out their car last night. Broke that window there. Got some people coming out later to fix it, sure ‘nough.”

“But I thought they did that,” I said, before I could stop myself.

Mr. Dansy stopped sweeping. “Who, darlin’?”

I stared at him, feeling sick. He talked to me just as he always did, no hint of what had happened yesterday. I’d hoped that he at least would know what I was talking about – that with him I wouldn’t feel like I was going crazy. I just shook my head and wandered into the shop. It was empty except for me, and somewhere in the back of the store a bulky radio droned barely audible oldies.

When Mr. Dansy finally came in, I had taken a seat on one of the old-fashioned stools at the counter. I’d always liked to sit there when I came to the store with my dad, and Mr. Dansy would slip me a piece of candy while Dad got our groceries. Now I sat there with a cold emptiness in my heart, staring at the glass candy jars without seeing them. In my hand I clasped the medallion, and couldn’t even recall its name.

“Mr. Dansy, what happened?”

“Well, like I was telling you, kids came round last—”

“No, I mean…” Finally, ignoring how strange it would sound, I said, “I thought I went somewhere, but now I’m wondering if it was just a dream. And I want to go back more than anything. I know it sounds stupid, but I don’t think it was a dream. I mean, obviously you can’t go back into a dream, not like that anyway. Can’t you help me?”

Mr. Dansy gave me a strange, sad little smile. “Now hon’, I’m no professor or anything, but I’ll tell you what I think. I think if you want to get something back bad enough, you’ll find a way to.”

I left the shop sullen and depressed and nearly walked into Damian. I shoved my hands in my pockets and fell into step beside him.

“The library, huh?” he said, smiling mirthlessly at me.

“Were you following me?” I grumbled.

“Mer, is this about Dad?”

“What makes you say that?”

Damian shrugged, tossing back his golden head and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “I can tell.”

Of course he could.

“I don’t know what it has to do with. I wish I could tell you but, really, I just don’t kn—”

I stopped abruptly, mid-syllable and mid-stride. A shadow had fallen over us, but…no. Nothing. The street was just as bright and ordinary as ever. But that man standing by the wall across from us. He was watching me. His eyes bored into me. He saw me…he saw it. I knew without looking at him. I knew I could not look at him.

“Damian,” I whispered.

My throat felt like sandpaper. I reached out and touched his sleeve, and felt his arm around my shoulders, supporting me.

“What’s wrong? Mer, you all right?”

I blinked rapidly and risked a glance across the street. Empty.

“He was just there!” I cried. My lips felt numb, bloodless. “Damian, didn’t you see him? He wanted it. He saw it and he was trying to take it. He was one of them! He knows about me, he knows about him, and all of them. He saw them in me. He’ll find them, and it’s my fault! I left them and I betrayed them, and they know where they are!”

I stumbled, felt Damian catch me. It had all come rushing back, and I felt nauseous. Damian guided me to a stone bench and sat me down, crouching beside me with his hands gripping mine. I couldn’t say a word now. My lips trembled and I wondered if I should have kept my mouth shut. I could tell from the worry in his eyes that Damian thought I was delirious. He was probably right. All I wanted was for him to believe me, to share this with me. But I couldn’t explain anything. I only sat and stared anxiously at him, not even flinching from his scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m going to get the car. Drink some of your water and don’t get up, okay?” He backed a step, then muttered as he turned away, “Too hot for a walk like that.”

I closed my eyes. So dark, so lonely. A cold sickness clawed through me, like an icy hand wrapped around my heart. Maybe it was too late. Maybe they had already found the camp. But who? I didn’t even know what they were. I didn’t know anything, just that somehow everything felt wrong. It had all gone wrong, and it was my fault.

A few slow minutes crawled by. What was taking Damian so long?

I glanced up, and my breath turned to stone. That man in the hat – no, no one there. But there, across the street, the same man…or another? And he too, gone. Everywhere I turned, he was there and gone, always staring at me. Then, standing beside me, a hand on my shoulder, a voice in my ear…

“There is nothing, there is no one, nothing to fear, nothing to regret, nothing to seek, nothing to find, nothing…”

Then Damian called my name, and I was lying in bed with a cold cloth on my brow.