The Knights of Sheba, Ep. 16: "Oh, Crap" B

The Knights of Sheba B…Start

 

            Ms. Olivia drives Geneva home so Geneva can prepare.  She leaves Geneva there to do her own work, promising to come back and pick Geneva up in the morning.  Geneva sits in her room turning events over again and again in her mind.

            She had become a knight to protect people.  In her mind, it was the only real choice she that could be made.  It was difficult, at times it was even unfair, and it asked so much more of her than she could ever truly give, but she didn’t think it would hurt those around her.  Then Kit was attacked, targeted because she was close to Geneva.  Now, Shirley has been, too.

            She gathers her things into her school backpack and feels silly doing it.  In her entire life she has never even gone camping, let alone on a journey between two worlds to save someone’s life.  She doesn’t know what to bring, so she tries to channel her mother and do her best.  This means she grabs a towel, a jacket, a change of underwear, and a toothbrush.  She also grabs some band-aids, though she doubts their usefulness.

            Once packed, she sits on her bed and stares at her phone.  It has been an hour since she got home, and Geneva feels increasingly anxious.  She can hardly imagine a world outside of the city, except for that view of the skyline that Kit showed her.  She imagines that this is how the other worlds will look—like her world looking back at her.

            There are three names in her cell phone, the three people who know her most intimate secret.  She flips through them, one-by-one, turning it all over in her mind again.   The maps are old, out of date, and no one knows how long she will be gone.

            Sighing, she dials one of them and waits.  Kit answers on the first ring.  “What do you want?”

            “Kit.  I.”  Geneva sighs.  She stands, paces, sits.

            “You what?  You’re sad? Sorry? Pathetic?”

            “I have a favor to ask.”

            “So, pathetic,” Kit says after a short pause, “Geneva, what the hell is wrong with you?  I mean, this is dense, even for you.”

            “I know, I know.  I just need help, and I don’t have anyone else.”

            “You have an entire family.”

            “They can’t help me, not with this.  Trust me.  If I could, I would ask someone else.  I swear.”

            A pause and a sniffle on the other end of the line, then, “What do you want?”

            “Shirley’s been kidnapped.  By monsters, real ones this time, and I—Well, this is what I’ve been trained for.”

            “And?”

            “And I need a cover.  I’m going there, to this other world, to where the monsters are.  I’m going to get her back.”  Saying it makes Geneva pause.  The words are heavier than she thought, echoing around her skull and sounding more like mockery with each passing second.  It all finally hits with the weight of a cement block and, when it does, she is left momentarily breathless.  “Anyway, I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

            “So, you want me to pretend you’re here in case your parents call looking for you.”

            “They won’t.  At least, I don’t think they will, but I—I don’t want them to worry.  Anyway, I’ll just tell them that I need time away, that I need space.  I think they’ll understand.  I mean, Beatrice might be mad but,” Geneva sighs, wipes her eyes.  “Shirley’s a good person, Kit.”

            “And she needs help,” Kit says.  The words are soft, almost affectionate, but there is also venom to them.  “If she’s in so much danger then why are they sending you?”

            “Because I’m a knight,” Geneva says.  “I mean, I’m not even supposed to go, and Ms. O has to pretend like I’m not, but if I don’t then no one else can save her.”

            “Which is why you need me to cover.”

            “I’m sorry.”  Geneva holds her breath, stares at the far wall and counts the seconds.  They seem to pass by more slowly than normal.  Time isn’t standing still, but it is keeping her waiting.

            “Fine,” Kit says after lengthy consideration.  “But give them my cell, that way they call me directly and don’t get my parents.”

            “Thank you, Kit.  Thank you so much.”

            “It’s whatever.  Just save her.”

            “I will.  I promise.  And if my parents call, just pretend like I don’t want to talk to them.”

            “Trust me, I know that by heart.”

            Geneva pauses, slouches some.  “Yeah.  So, I guess I should…”

            “Before you go.”

            “What?”

            “Don’t,” Kit sighs and there are tears in her voice, not borne of sadness or worry, but something else.  Geneva sits on her bed, body tense, fingers curling in her comforter, staring at the wall, worrying that Ms. Olivia might call, worrying that Kit might change her mind.  She considers hanging up before either can happen, and then Kit clears her throat and takes a deep breath.  “Just come back, okay?”

            “I will.  I promise.  And, really, thank you.”  They hang up, and Geneva stares at her phone cupped in her hand.  She pockets it and then rubs her hands on her thighs.  Scooping up her book bag, she pulls it onto her shoulders, and she stares in her mirror.  The woman staring back is so different, someone else entirely.  They’re not quite an adult but not a child either.

            She pinches her own cheeks, makes a silly face like she did when she was a child.  It doesn’t fit her like it used to.  Then, she takes a deep breath.  “Well, if I could make that call, then those monsters ain’t got nothing on me.”

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            Claude returns to his apartment but cannot sleep.  Without Shirley it feels cold and empty.  So, he lies sleepless in bed, staring at the moon-soaked walls.  After hours of waiting, he rises and walks the length of the room.  He goes to the bathroom to wash his face and stares at his pale visage in the mirror.

            When he returns to the room, he finds his broken bow in the corner.  He had always meant to fix it but never had the time or money.  It was peaceful, then, and his life was peaceful for so long.  He forgot his destiny, forgot himself, and lost Shirley because of it.  Now, he feels foolish.

            He finds a deck of cards and a few sheets of paper, and he sits at the table and tears the paper into small strips.  He folds the strips into neat little balls and then places them into a plastic bag.  It isn’t much, but it will do in a pinch.

            Then, he finds his photos and goes through them, reliving each memory while holding them delicately in his shaking hands.   He stops on one.  In it he, Shirley, and his older brother all stand in a row.  They are dripping wet, soaked from their time at the river.  Shirley is small, there, young and her auburn hair is knotted into pigtails.  They hang soggy over her shoulders as she smiles.  It is the same smile that he has always known.

            He takes the photo to bed and holds it to his chest, and he lies on his back and closes his eyes.  The bed is empty without her but still smells the same.  He lifts the photo and stares at it, and he holds the blanket tight, and he drifts off.  He dreams, then, of a beautiful young maiden with auburn pigtails, smiling as she dips her feet into the cold water and squealing in delight after she dives under.

 

-The Knights of Sheba-

 

            The morning comes with a low fog hanging in the air.  Geneva stands in the wet grass, her jacket and hair damp.  She has her backpack on, one strap still ripped despite her mother’s best efforts at fixing it, and she holds the good strap tightly with her fingers as she stares ahead at a tree that isn’t tree and tries to make sense of it.

            The air is cool this morning and leaves her shivering.

            Claude stands beside her, his hands in his pockets, his arms close to his body.  He looks pale and tired.  More than that, he looks manic and stares at the tree with sullen intensity.  His legs shake, not from the cold, but with energy.  He taps his foot intermittently and says, “What’re we waiting for?”

            “Just making sure everything is together,” Ms. Olivia says.  “Despite some improvisations by some parties,” she says, glancing at Geneva’s back-up, “We feel you could stand to be more adequately prepared before going.  Everyone wants to see you succeed and comeback alive.”

            “And I appreciate that,” Geneva says.  “I’ve been kind of a turd these past couple of weeks, but I wouldn’t want to think of myself as a liar.”

            Ms. Olivia pauses, her hands buried deep inside of a satchel she is preparing.  “What?”

            “Nothing.  Never mind.”

            Claude stops tapping his foot, looks at Geneva.  He starts tapping it again.  “Hey, thanks for this.  For helping me.”

            Geneva shrugs, tries to smile without looking insensitive.  “It’s kind of my job.  Besides, I remember once upon a time you helping me save my girlfriend.”

            He nods and returns his gaze on the tree.

            “And we are going to save her,” Geneva says, soberly.  “We’re going to save her, and we’re going to bring her back, and then you two will have your happily ever after.”  Viness approaches them holding a pack which he gives to Claude.  He puts a few more resources into Geneva’s bag, including elven medicine, bandages, and dry foods.  Geneva looks at Claude now.  “Or whatever it is you want.  It’s the twenty-first century, so I won’t judge.”

            Ms. Olivia approaches now and hands Claude two tubes.  “These are maps, one of the Yggdrasil and one of the demon realm.  They’re the best we have, meaning they are thousands of years old and written in their language.  You’ll need Geneva to read them.  They’ll be vital to your success.”

            “Which is why we’re giving them to you,” Viness says as he joins her.  He smiles at the two of them.  “Because we don’t want our little knight here to lose them.”

            “Oh, please, stop, your confidence in me is just too much,” Geneva says.

            “Just keep near the roads but off of them.  That should get you where you’re going, and stay hidden as long as you can.  Oh, and don’t die.”

            “Great advice.”

            “I mean it,” he says.  “I don’t know how I would fill my days if I can’t beat you around the basement.”

            “Please, saying you beat me makes it sound all domestic.  Call it training,” Geneva says, “It looks better on a police report.”

            Viness laughs and Ms. Olivia steps back.  She regards the two of them quietly for a few seconds and then breathes deeply.  “That seems to be it, except,” she looks at Geneva, “Ms. Oaks, if I could bother you for a moment.”

            “Uh oh, guys, pep-talk.”  Geneva looks at Claude.  “We’ll go soon.  Promise.”

            They stop a short distance away, hiding among the trees.  The bark is darker than usual here, the branches dripping.  Ms. Olivia stands with her back to Claude, blocking his view, and Geneva meets her seriousness with, “So, this is the part where you tell me that you believe in me.  And that you trained me for this.  And I’ll be fine.”  She looks into Ms. Olivia’s eyes.  “Uh, right?”

            “I do believe in you,” Ms. Olivia says, “And I have trained you for this.  But none of that means you will be fine.”

            Geneva frowns and mutters, hugging herself.  “Some pep-talk.”

            “I’m not here for a pep-talk.  Hold out your hand.”

            Even as she obeys, Geneva asks, “Why?”

            Ms. Olivia reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a ring.  It is a dark, vivid pink and shines smoothly even in the foggy morning light.  When she places it Geneva’s palm it feels smooth and faintly warm.  Geneva moves her fingers around it, finding the contours to be comforting.

            “A ring.”  Geneva holds it up and compares it to her signet.  “Another one?”

            “Just in case,” Ms. Olivia says.  “That is the coral signet—known for its healing abilities.  It can recover the wearer and, using the wand, can channel that power to heal others.  I am uncertain of the specifics but,” Ms. Olivia peeks through the trees and finds Claude waiting impatiently with Viness at his side.  “Mr. Sylvain is without a primary weapon and, considering his bravery and experience, would be a prime candidate for knighthood.”

            “Aw, shucks.  And here I thought I was special.”

            Ms. Olivia folds Geneva’s fingers over the signet and squeezes her hand.  “You are.”

            “And now you’re getting mushy.”  Geneva pulls her hands away, pockets the ring, and she smiles.  “Fine, I’ll give it to him, if I see an opportunity.”

            “Good.”  They stand together then, Geneva tugging on the straps of her bag, Ms. Olivia shifting her weight.  They both stare at the ground.  “I’ve lead people before,” Ms. Olivia says.

            “Yeah? And how’d that turn out?”

            “Poorly.”

            “Oh.”

            “But this time is different.”  They look into each other’s eyes, and Ms. Olivia says, with all the gravity of her usual tone, with the weight of worlds, “Whatever you are, Ms. Oaks, you’re exactly what I wanted the knights to be.”

            “Please,” Geneva says, blushing but also smiling.  She kicks the grass.  “I’m just a kid.”

            “Yes, but you’re also so much more.  And I am proud of you.  For your bravery and for your commitment to others, and I look forward to your return.”

            Geneva shifts her weight, shoves Ms. Olivia gently.  “Come on, you’ve just put too much time into me at this point.  It would be a pain to restart from scratch.”

            Ms. Olivia allows a smile.  “That would be inconvenient.”

            “See.”  Geneva takes a deep breath, wipes the moisture from her face.  “Well, I think I should be going.  There’s a, uh, damsel waiting for me.”

            “Indeed.”

            They return to find Viness and Claude waiting in the fog.  The light from the gate tree catches in the fog, makes the water vapor shimmer softly.  Facing it, Geneva cannot figure how tall it is.  From where she stands, it seems to stretch infinitely into the heavens, infinitely into the earth.  Sometimes, when she is looking away, from the corner of her eye, she swears it isn’t even a tree at all.

            “So, how was the pep talk,” Viness asks.

            “Lacking in pep.”  Geneva comes to a stop beside Claude and nudges him for attention.  When he looks at her, she says, “You ready to go, Leggy McShakenstein?”

            Claude takes a deep breath and stares at the tree ahead of him.  He works his fingers around the straps of his satchel, squeezes them tight as he exhales.  Then, he nods.  Together, he and Geneva approach the tree, which grows brighter and taller the closer they are.  A shadow swells around it as the bark absorbs the light.  Geneva can feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

            She stops to look back at Viness and Ms. Olivia waiting, and she hesitates.  “Just so you know, when I get back I expect a parade.  And crying women.  Actually, know what? Scratch the crying women.  Had too many of those lately.  But the parade would be nice.  And confetti.”  She turns to Claude, who is waiting patiently at her side.  “Does Shirley like confetti?”

            “I, uh, I don’t know.”

            “Oh,” Geneva says, and they start forward again, one step after another.  The tree swells in front of her.  Its trunk is now as wide as a mountain.  “And how long have you two been together?”

            “For a few months.  Though, I’ve known her my entire life.”

            “That’s what I thought.  And you don’t know how she feels about confetti?”

            “I guess it never came up.”

            “Weird,” Geneva says, regarding the infinite, dark expanse before them.  She is at the edge of the world.  “Well, for the record, I love it.”

            She takes a step.

            They disappear from view, swallowed by the fog and by the tree.  Viness stuffs his hand into his pockets and looks at Nina.  She stares ahead.  “They’re gone,” he says.

            “Indeed.”

            They stand there, staring, watching in vain.  The gate tree shimmers, as it always shimmers.  The world is two people less now but keeps spinning without a care.

            “You know, back during my training we used to take increasingly difficult shots, and when it started getting impossible, we would place bets.  I was wondering if you wanted to…”

            “No,” Nina says, “I’d rather not.”

            “Right.  Of course.”  Viness pats her on the shoulder.  “They’ll make it back,” he says, “But not immediately.  Let’s grab breakfast while we wait.”

            He turns and leaves Nina standing there, lingering behind.  She stares at the tree a moment longer, her hands tight together, breathing into them for warmth.  Then, reluctantly, she follows.

 

The Knights of Sheba 116...End