The Knights of Sheba, Episode 4: "Everything Has Changed" A

 Episode Four: Everything Has Changed

           

            Geneva’s weekend study-date with Kit comes and goes smoothly.  She isn’t sure if much studying gets done, but she does enjoy the company.  With Kit stuck in ISS their time together is limited, and however Geneva looks at it, she doesn’t have many friends, and friends distract her from martian-demons and ancient knighthoods and elven teachers.

            Sunday night Geneva lies in bed.  She should be studying, but instead she holds the polished white ring up toward the ceiling and stares at it.  Ms. Olivia said that once it goes on, it can’t come off.  Even after everything, it all sounds so crazy, maybe even impossible.

            She thinks of a tiny green man in tattered clothes and the fear she felt when he stood over her.  Two bullets, the noise of them bleeding into each other, and it died right in front of her.  Geneva closes her fist around the ring and takes a deep breath.

            She pushes it all away, and she hides the ring back in her desk drawer.

            That night she sleeps heavily, and Monday morning starts slow and late.  Sunlight washes over her street like warm molasses.  The heat trails after, not quite there but promising to hit in full by noon.  For now, the light dries the dew on the grass and outside of Geneva’s modest house the school bus pulls to a stop.

            The beleaguered driver, having memorized the routine, leans on the horn.  Like with an alarm clock, Geneva does what any good, respectable teen would do and ignores it until the last minute.  Then, with a bitter grunt, she rolls from the bed and starts her day.

            From the bed she is a staggering, zombie-liked blur.  Her books are scattered about her room, from mixed negligence and frustration.  She gathers them and shoves them unceremoniously into her bag before running a comb through her hair and stopping to consider brushing her teeth and deciding she doesn’t have the time.

            She dresses in what she hopes are clean clothes and berates herself for being more like her older sister than she is comfortable with.  Finally, she gathers a few stray papers and shoves them, crumpled, into her backpack.  On the way out she stops at the door and looks back at her desk.

            The horn wails.  Geneva looks out into the hall, and then to her desk again.  She wonders what could happen, and she imagines the monsters, and Ms. Olivia, gun barrel level, eyes cold, and she returns for the ring.

            She comes sprinting from the house and reaches the bus just in time.  As she climbs the steps, panting and hanging from the handrail, the driver gives her a dead stare.  “I was just about to leave you.”

            Geneva laughs.  “Oh, you say that all the time.”

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            The sky is a dull grey above Seere’s viscounty.  The air is thick, oppressive, and warm.  The busy streets are thick with mud and demons.  While adults work, children play, splashing in the mud while their parents watch carefully from the side.  The viscounty is safe, relatively speaking, but never so safe to let children wander.

            Three demons move through the streets and approach the viscount’s keep.  They are stopped by a stout guard at the front.  They speak, quietly, and are granted entrance.  Another guard, tall and brutish with pale green skin, leads them down the long, empty hallways.  He keeps a sharpened, polished halberd balanced on his shoulder.

            They stop in the audience chamber, where Viscount Salamand Seere waits for them.  He is wearing a vibrant robe and a bronze crown, and he greets them with a smile.  Ruka, as always, stands vigilant at his side.

            The three demons approach cautiously and bow.

            Seere laughs.  “No need for such formalities, I am the one who called on you.”

            The demons stand.  They trade glances, and then the one in the center takes a tentative step forward.  All three wear cloaks, their hoods up.  He pulls his down.  “Y-Yes, my lord.  We’re simply trying to show proper respect for your position.”

            “Of course, of course, but such things do grow tired, don’t they?”  Seere looks at Ruka.  “Really, would you stop with all that scowling?  You’re frightening the poor things.” 

            Ruka responds with cold stare.

            Seere purses his lips.  “Yes, well, I suppose there is nothing we can do about that.”  He returns his attention to the three in waiting.  “Regardless, you are welcome here.  I assure you.”

            “Yes, my lord,” the one in the center says, and he gives glances back at his companions.  They stand behind him and eye Ruka carefully.

            “In truth, I actually called to request your services.”  Seere smiles again, expansively, theatrically.  “I hear tale that you three are the best scavengers in the viscounty. Is there truth in this statement?”

            Center glances back again.  Then he shrugs.  “We get by, lord.”

            “More than get by, if my sources are to be believed, and they had better be.  Fear not, I have no interest in reprimanding you.  In fact, I am in need of someone with your particular skill sets: subterfuge, appraisal, and the like.”

            “You mean to say that you have work for us, lord?”

            “Exactly, work, and with compensation the likes of which you have never seen, assuming you do right by me.”

            Center smiles.  “And we would, lord!”

            “I am sure.  Still, I would like to outline your task before I have you agree to it.  Wouldn’t want to lead you into danger without knowing.”

            “Yes, lord, though I assure you we are accustomed to danger,” center says, but his friend on the right doesn’t seem so convinced.

            “Yes.  Now then, I expect the job to be fairly straight-forward, though time consuming and, perhaps, if you aren’t careful, a touch fatal.  You see, among my father’s records I found maps, ancient maps, showing the roadways between worlds.  You may or may not be aware, but the gate tree between realms has opened once again, which means these maps are of great importance to us.  Your task is to traverse the way between worlds following this,” Seere lifts a rolled parchment from his lap, “and find an old, lost world, and return to me some of the old, lost things found there.”

            “I see,” center says.  “And what will we find there?”

            “That is the question, isn’t it?”

            Center furrows his brow and digests the information.  He looks back at his companions.  Left nods eagerly.  Right continues to hesitate. “And the compensation you mentioned?”

            “Why, you would live like nobles yourselves,” Seere says.  “At the very least, you will never go hungry again.”

            “And you just want us to bring back whatever we find?”

            “Whatever you think is of value,” Seere says.  “If you bring me back something of particular interest, well.”  Seere smiles.  “Considering your reputation, I am sure there will be no troubles.”

            Center turns again.  He consults the other two, speaks to them in hushed tones.  All three agree, and he turns back to Seere.  “And this gate, where is it?”

            “In the forests of Andromalius’ Duchy, though we’ve charted a safe route through there, as well.”

            “I see,” center says.  “The reward is well worth the risk, I think.”  He gets one last agreement from his companions and then all three bow low.  “My lord, it would be our highest pleasure to serve you in this capacity.”  Rising, he gives a rotten smile.

            “That is good to hear,” Seere says.  Seere hands two scrolls, the one from earlier which is tied with yarn and new one fresh from his robe and tied with a red ribbon, to Ruka.  “The red one will lead you to the gate.  The other will take you to the realm you seek.  Be careful along the way.  It has been some time since demons traversed the realms between, and we don’t know how the worlds have changed.”

            Ruka approaches the three.  Center stands his ground, though seems quite uncomfortable in the large demon’s presence.  He takes the scrolls and mutters a thanks while shying away from Ruka’s gaze.

            “And leave at night,” Seere says while Ruka returns to his side, “So as to avoid Andromalius’ notice.”

            “Yes, lord, of course,” center says.  “We will prepare now.”

            “Do,” Seere says.  He waits for the scavengers to leave before giving Ruka a smile.  “And you had worried they might be difficult.”

            “And should they cross us?”

            “A matter we will consider only should it come to pass,” Seere says.  “Now then, I could go for a meal.  Call on the cook if you would.”

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Later that day, Geneva sits in silence, staring out the passenger window and watching the landscape roll by.  She finds the liquid blur of her surroundings so hypnotic that she doesn’t think to ask where they are going or when they will get there.  It isn’t until they come to a stop that she voices her curiosity, and Kit responds only with a smile.

            Kit takes them outside of the city proper and through worn down, dusty roads well off the map.  The trees here are thick and covered in leaves so brilliantly green that Geneva has trouble believing they are real. Where they stop overlooks the entire city, which stretches out as a series of glass spires catching the light.

            Geneva stares out the windshield, wide-eyed, awed.  “Seriously, where are we?”

            “Just a place outside of town,” Kit says.  “I thought it would be nice if we took a small detour on the way home, give you something different.”  Kit unfastens her seatbelt and pushes her door open.

            “But you are taking me home, right,” Geneva asks while undoing her own seatbelt.  “This isn’t a ‘bury-me-in-a-shallow-grave’ sort of different, is it?”  Kit responds by silently climbing from the car, and Geneva sighs.  “You’re not inspiring hope in me.”

            Kit smiles back at Geneva through the windshield.  The wind tosses her hair.  She goes to a guard rail and leans over it, and she says, “Come on, Geneva, get out here.”

            Geneva peeks her head out the door.  “I’m not getting anywhere until you promise me there will be no shallow graves.”

            Laughing, Kit turns around and says, “I promise.  If I kill you, I’ll make sure to leave you six feet under.”

            “So not helping,” Geneva mumbles as she gets out of the car.  She joins Kit at the guard rail and stares out at the city.  From where they stand everything is small.  It feels strange for Geneva, who has only ever known city streets.  It makes her entire world seem small, like a snow globe.  She can see her tiny, green house in the distance, lost amidst a tiny, bleak neighborhood.  “So, why are we here again?”

            Kit shrugs.  “I don’t know, I just wanted to share this with you.”

            “This being make-out point?”

            “It’s not make-out point,” Kit says.  She gestures vaguely with her hands and says, “It’s—It’s my place.  I come here, when I want to think or be alone.”  She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her skinny jeans.  “And I wanted you to see it.”

            “Oh.”  Geneva fixes her gaze firmly on the ground.  “Why,” she asks without looking up.

            “Because we’re friends.”

            “You have other friends.”  Geneva looks up and meets Kit’s eyes.  Her cheeks feel hot.  “Why not them?”

            Kit shrugs and looks out at the city.  “I can see my house from here.”

            “Yeah?  Me, too.”  Geneva leans against the rail again.  “Everything’s so distant here.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this far from home.”

            “Really?”

            “Well, I mean, I’ve visited aunts and uncles and stuff.  But, no, I’ve never been, like, outside of the city.”  She looks around.  “Everything is so green.”

            Kit snorts.  “Genny, it’s not that green.”

            “Hey, now, some of us don’t get to go on big, fancy world tours.  Some of us aren’t movie stars.”

            “I know,” Kit says soberly.  “Sorry.  Maybe we could road trip one of these days, just you and me.”

            “Nah.  My feet start to stink after a few days.”

            “That’s what wet-naps are for.”

            “Gross,” Geneva says, and she kicks the dirt idly.  “So, how many people have you brought up here?”

            “You.”

            Geneva pauses, swallow the lump forming in her throat.  She tries not to look nervous.  “No one else?  Not even one of your dates?”

            “Not even,” Kit says.  “Saving it for someone special, I guess.”

            Geneva stares at Kit and swears she sees a faint blush across her friend’s freckled nose.  “Hardly,” Geneva says, fanning herself.  “Hey, let’s get into the shade.”

            “Good idea,” Kit says.

            They walk back to Kit’s car together and, upon Kit’s insistence, climb onto the hood.  There they rest, side-by-side, and stare into the canopy of leaves above them.  To keep her mind busy, Geneva counts the sunspots that peek through.

            One, two…

            “The air is so fresh up here,” Kit says.

            “Yeah,” Geneva says.  A light breeze washes over them, and Geneva finds herself relaxing.  One of Kit’s arms rests against hers, warm and soft, alive.  It is the closest she has ever been to another person, and she finds it comforting.  “Hey, Kit?”

            Kit looks at her.  “Yeah?”

            “Thanks,” Geneva says, and she turns her head, too.  She smiles, briefly, and she stares at Kit’s freckles.  Like the sunspots, she starts counting them.

            Three, four…

            “You’re welcome.  I’m glad you like it.”

            “I do,” Geneva says, moving closer, attracted by an unknown force.  Their shoulders touch, and Geneva rolls.  Soon, their chests connect.  Geneva is leaning over Kit, their mouths inches apart, eyes locked, and Geneva is still counting the freckles.

            Five, six…

            She closes the distance.  Their lips meet, first contact.  It is simple, lacking depth.  Kit is momentarily surprised and lies flat against the hood.  Then, she is gripping Geneva tightly, pulling at her with urgency, and Geneva returns it.

            They part, and Geneva nearly tumbles from the hood.  The fresh air leaves her sober, and she catches herself at the last minute.  Her lips are tingling and moist, and her breath gone, stolen.  She stares at Kit in bemused horror.

            Kit sits up and, breathlessly, asks, “What’s wrong?”

            “I—I’m…” Dizzy, Geneva fails to form words, while her thoughts move too quickly, stumble over themselves as they struggle to process.  This isn’t her, this isn’t what she meant.  Everything blurs like the landscape in the car window, and she stutters and then yells, “I’m sorry!”

            She leaps from the car to seek refuge in the woods.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Nina stretches.  She has just finished grading her last test and is ready to go home.  Earlier this month she taught a section over general health, including how to properly do certain exercises, and wanted to make sure they had the knowledge down before moving on.  She is surprised and dismayed by how little these students truly know about their own bodies.

            She sorts her papers and puts them into a folder, which she files away in her desk.  Then, she stands and grabs her bag and keys.  She checks her phone and finds a missed call from Erak.  She returns it immediately.

            “Yes?”

            “You called, sir?”

            “I did.”

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Demon spotted near the school, moved away.  We’re in pursuit.  Nothing you should worry about.”

            “Where? Outside of town?”  Nina has stopped at her office door, her hand resting on the handle.  “I can be there.”

            “It’s a small park overlooking the city.  You stay out of it.  Focus on assimilating, since that’s what you’re so worried about.  Leave the real work to my people.”

            “Sir…”  The line goes silent.  Nina looks at her phone and then flicks it off.  She checks her bag for her pistol and then heads for the parking lot.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Geneva runs until her legs go weak and she has to stop and rest against a tree.  Her lungs ache, her heart races, and kneeling down she coughs through deep breaths while gathering herself.  Thoughts of Kit keep her primed, though, as do hazy memories of sunspots and freckles.

            Her cheeks burn, and she shakes her head to clear it before pushing herself up. “Maybe mom’s right,” she says to herself, “Maybe I do need more cardio.”  She steps away from the tree, pacing ahead, putting more distance between her and the hill.  Leaves crunch beneath her feet.

            She looks up, notices the a few dead leaves, deep brown gashes or vivid red blemishes among perfect green.  “Fall’s coming.”  She sees the light seeping through and chews her bottom lip.  “God, what was I thinking, kissing her like that!”

            With no response, she continues walking, and she replays the events in her head.  At the time it was all so fast, so sudden.  Now, it is slow motion, blurred only by her own emotions.  She feels her lips and finds they no longer tingle.  In fact, they feel very much the same as they always had, but she knows there is something different.

            She wasn’t the one being kissed.  She did the kissing.

            “I kissed someone,” she says, and she stops to hang her head.  “I kissed Kit!  And then I ran off.  Like a crazy person.”  She looks back up the hill, sighs.  “Beatrice is going to love this.”  She turns, looks ahead.  “Well, if I’m going to walk home, I guess I should start now.”

            As she walks the ground grows steep and the trees thin.  Beyond them she can see a fresh grass with a walking trail weaving through.  She stops and remembers her house as a tiny green dot in the distance, thinks of Kit waiting and worrying at her car.  Another sigh, and she rests against a tree for support, because her legs are quickly becoming jelly.  “Okay, okay,” she says to herself and to her conscious, and she turns to make the hike back up the hill.

            That is when she hears the scream.  Off to her left, a woman is calling for a help, and a man is shouting alongside her.  First, Geneva stops to listen, and then she runs toward the voices.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Nina pulls up to the park outside of town.  Before leaving the car, she grabs her pistol and checks the clip one last time.  Then, she straps it to her lower back and pulls her jacket over it.  Once out of the SUV, she locks the door behind her and sprints off toward the woods.

            She sees other elven vehicles through her periphery, all black, parked discreetly out of notice.  Her people are watching, and a few ground agents are scouting, looking for the demon.  They will have orders to shoot on sight, to kill.

            Moving among the crowd, the families and children, she sees groups of wispy, fair-skinned men and women in dark clothes, trying to blend.  The people are too absorbed in themselves to notice, but Nina is aware.  She doesn’t see Erak moving among them.

            At the edge of the forest she stops and waits.  She listens for trouble and hears a scream nearby.  Someone is isolated, alone, and in danger.  She draws her pistol and holds it down with the safety off, and she runs toward the screams.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Geneva follows the screams to a parked car, located in a clearing, with no one around.  A couple is inside, a boy in his underwear, a woman wearing a shirt and little else.  Standing in front of the car is a hulking, green brute of a demon.  Scarred skin is stretched tightly over enormous muscles. Geneva recognizes it instantly from first day of school.

            It punches a hole in the windshield and growls at the couple, who try hard to retreat farther into the back seat, and it starts rounding the car to get at them.

            Geneva watches from behind a tree.  She turns back and takes a deep breath, shifting her weight to keep balance. The last time she dealt with a demon it ended with a few bruises, possibly a light concussion, and a dead body.

            This demon is larger, and Ms. Olivia isn’t around to save her.

            She hears more screams and peeks around again.  The demon is now by the back of the car and has its arm reaching in through the broken rear window.  The girl has her door open and is trying to slip out half naked.  The boy attempts to follow, but the demon has him by the arm and is holding him in place.  His screams make Geneva’s skin crawl.

            She sighs.  “Fine,” she says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the signet ring.  She remembers Ms. Olivia’s warning and regards the danger in front of her.

            Then, she puts the ring on.

 

The Knights of Sheba 104 A…End