The Reconciling [Part 1] Page 12

  “How can he use you here? He can’t be that powerful—that’s…that’s like power Roi has!”

  “Not now Phil!” Kesil says sternly. “Lesia. Fix it. Do what you did to save Phil!”

  Lesia stares at Chrissi, tears still streaming down her face. “O, what have I done?”

  When Lesia refuses to move, Kesil looks Chrissi in the face, trying to make eye contact but hers flutter gently never fully opening, “Chrissi, heal!” he orders. “Come on, we were all meant to be here right? There has to be a purpose to all of this, that means that you are intended to be here with us. We would never have come this far without your discernment and determination. In fact, we probably should have listened to you more. Chrissi, please, please.” One hot tear glides down his cheek landing on the tip of her nose. Finally, Kesil sits up.

  “Look!” Phil points to Chrissi’s wound as it heals slightly and the blood flows a little slower, but not slow enough. Everyone stares in bewilderment, no one knowing what to do next. Kesil’s gaze draws up to meet Lesia’s.

  “Why would I be any different? If it didn’t work for you it won’t for me!” she argues.

  “But it was different for you when it was Phil,” Kesil says watching Chrissi carefully and wondering, once again, why he is different. Why do things not work out for him? Or ever in his favor?

  “I was the only who tried with Phil,” Lesia sighs, trying to shake off her fear as she drops down, kneeling by Chrissi and hesitantly hovers her hands above her wounded shoulder. A small gust of wind flows through the trees and Lesia can feel the coolness on her sopping cheeks.

  Phil breathes deeply noticing Chrissi’s tank top, uncertain what may happen if Lesia touches Chrissi’s skin, or even her blood, but unwilling to stop her. Maybe her curse is only in her hands. Maybe Chrissi’s curse isn’t a curse on this plane. Instead he bends down next to Lesia, “You can do this. I believe in you. You’re strong and brave, we’ve witnessed that once today already.”

  Lesia sighs as her chest feels open and she can breathe again. A small smile breaks through her guilt. “I’m so sorry Chrissi,” she begins, “Really I am. I’m just so scared. I didn’t realize what would happen, I should have trusted you about that letter. I know it’s not your fault. You aren’t a monster, you’re a friend. A true friend. Nobody has ever tried to comfort me like you did in Chazaq and you had no reason to do it. But you did. I know, now, that’s friendship. I don’t know why I said those things. I just felt so angry. I just want to be home. Like we all do. Chrissi, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault…” Lesia repeats the phrase over and over, laying her forehead on Chrissi’s shoulder in desperation and exhaustion.

  “It’s working!” says Kesil. Phil stiffens at seeing Lesia’s skin touch Chrissi’s, but when nothing happens to the sobbing girl sighs in relief. He leans closer to witness Chrissi’s blood running back to the wound. Her breathing returns to normal and slowly she sits up.

  “Lesia? What happened?”

  Lesia sobs and hugs Chrissi, “I’m so sorry!”

  “What happened?” Chrissi looks around her at the ground.

  “The same thing that happened to me apparently just happened to you,” Phil’s face is as white as cotton.

  Chrissi sighs, how she must have scared him. At the thought, she hears faintly in her ear, It’s not your fault. She smiles, “I’m OK,” she reassures him, standing up. “See?”

  “OK…so what caused it?” Phil ponders.

  “I think I know.” Everyone looks at Kesil, again.

  “It isn’t you!” Chrissi demands, unwaveringly.

  “No, I mean it was with Phil, but I think when we hurt someone emotionally it happens physically here too.”

  “Here where?” Lesia looks around, now standing with Chrissi, wiping away her tears of grief and joy.

  “Madqarah,” says Phil. “It was on that sign before.” He points down the direction they came from the day before. “I think that’s where we are.”

  “OK, so be nice,” Lesia says simply, shrugging off the weight of their circumstances.

  Phil rolls his eyes, “It won’t be that easy. It isn’t just name calling or arguing,” he pauses. “It’s a confirmation of your deepest fear or regret.”

  Lesia’s eyes widen, “What are you talking about?”

  “No, no, I get it,” Chrissi turns to Lesia, “I was already subconsciously blaming myself for this whole mess when you blamed me—”

  “I’m so sorry!”

  “I know,” Chrissi smiles warmly. “I know. We have to be careful now. We don’t know when this stops or who or what is doing it.”

  “It’s him, the adversary,” Kesil says. His jaw tightens.

  “How does HE have power?” asks Phil, still disbelieving any war or enemy of the king.

  “I don’t know, but he’s as old as Roi. My uncle told me. He told me a lot. For a long time I was confused, I thought you were all on the enemy’s side, unknowingly of course,” Kesil confesses, though hesitantly for in actuality his mind still wavers. All that his uncle and parents taught him still pops up habitually in his mind. It seems so right. It makes more sense than a caring king bringing them on this deathly journey.

  “Well, now you know,” Chrissi holds Kesil’s gaze until he nods his head uneasily.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Lesia squirms in the dirt, “I’m so bored!” she blurts.

  “Lesia, we need to make sure we’re well rested to continue,” says Phil.

  “Oh we’re rested alright,” Kesil says, “we’re just out of food…and water…and energy. There’s no gaining energy from just rest. We need sustenance!”

  Chrissi sighs helplessly, “Everyone has checked their bags for even a crumb?”

  “And rechecked.” Lesia stands and begins to pace across the small clearing. Phil, sitting against a tree, quietly whistles a random tune. His right index finger taps gently on his bent knee. As he begins to bob his head, Lesia rolls her eyes. “Dweeb.”

  “Lesia!” Kesil and Chrissi yell at once.

  “I’m sorry!” her eyes pop in terror as a gut-wrenching wave of realization flows through her. “Are you OK Phil?”

  “Yeah,” Phil says nonchalantly. “Yeah, I’m pretty great actually.” He picks up the Book resting beside him and flips through pages. Lesia rolls her eyes again and continues pacing. After flipping over a few stories Phil settles on one and skims the ancient words. With each syllable his muscles relax. With each phrase he can feel jolts of energy awaken his veins. With each line of text the war inside his empty stomach ceases; and with each paragraph his dry throat is satisfied. “Guys!” he shrieks. Everyone jumps and Phil blushes slightly at the small but very obvious crack in his voice.

  “Yes?” Kesil asks, trying to hold back a chuckle.

  Phil shakes it off, “I feel better! Like loads better! I’m full and I’m not thirsty at all. I’m ready to go again!” He holds up the Book and walks over to Chrissi, sitting with her knees bent and head in her arms atop them. “It’s the Book!” He thrusts it on Chrissi, forcing her to look up and take hold of it.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, hold it!”

  “I am holding it,” Chrissi says exasperated, raising the Book up for unnecessary emphasis.

  “Read it! You will feel better!”

  “Ugh, Phil, I don’t feel like reading.” She pushes the Book back on him and when Phil refuses it she sets it on the ground beside her.

  “I’m serious! I feel better than before we left home! King Roi must be helping through the Book. It’s like a transporter of all things necessary!”

  “Well, beam me up Scotty!” says Lesia, crossing the clearing and picking up the Book for herself.

  “Trekkie?” Phil raises an eyebrow.

  “Whattie?” she flips open the Book and turns page after page. “It’s not working.”

  “You have to read it. I think.”

  “Be careful!” Kesil warns. “I�
��m still not sure we can trust it.”

  “It’s Roi’s, isn’t it?” asks Chrissi.

  “Maybe—”

  “Of course!”

  The boys glare at each other.

  “You can’t be sure. Look at what we had to go through to get it,” says Kesil.

  “Just the sort of thing the adversary would want to keep from us, isn’t it?” Phil challenges. He turns to Lesia, “Well, how do you feel?”

  “Huh? Oh, hold on,” she puts up her index finger and finishes the line she is reading. “I feel great! And I think I found the first Book I don’t want to put down!”

  “Really?” Chrissi struggles to stand and Phil offers his arm.

  “Yeah, here!”

  Chrissi takes the Book and begins to read where Lesia must have left off. Her eyes roam back and forth across a page, two pages, three pages. Her shoulders lift and her dry, cracking lips soften. “Wow,” she whispers. “Here Kesil,” she holds the Book out to him.

  Kesil stands at a slight distance from everyone. He glances at each of the travelers. Their cheeks are no longer pale and their eyes glisten with renewed light and strength. Chrissi smiles encouragingly, her arm still outstretched with the Book. Slowly, Kesil takes it. As he opens it, the others begin discussing their next plan with rejuvenated vigor and hope.

  “I’m guessing we have three hours of light left,” says Phil.

  “We can keep going this way,” Lesia points out of the clearing down a darker path.

  “I don’t know, I think we should return to the main path where we started. What do you think Chrissi?” Phil turns to her.

  “What? Oh, yeah, I think so too,” she says half-heartedly. Kesil has taken a few steps away from the group again and just stares at the Book. Chrissi silently hopes he will open it. A part of her sympathizes and even partly understands his hesitation. He was raised his whole life believing one thing only to find out, now, it was all wrong. Not just wrong. Evil.

  Finally, he opens the Book and skims a page. Chrissi lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

  “You agree?” Phil turns to her again.

  “What?” she looks at him for the first time.

  “We’re trying to decide our plan of action here,” Lesia says. “Pay attention will you?”

  “Sorry, I—”

  “Let’s continue this way,” Kesil orders. He grabs his bag and throws it over his shoulder; as he passes Chrissi he shoves the Book to her and continues walking down the dark, wide road away from the clearing, and the main path. Everyone looks at each other in surprise.

  Phil snatches up his bag and runs after Kesil, “We need to discuss civilly!”

  Lesia rolls her eyes light-heartedly. Chrissi wonders if the girl ever gets a headache from all the times her eyes must see her skull. The two girls follow as anxiously as Phil.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Brows furrowed, Kesil walks ahead of everyone. He ignored all their protests earlier and eventually they just followed. Now a heavy and troublesome silence rests upon their group.

  Kesil read a whole page of the Book, and although he does feel good enough to continue their journey, he does not feel as great as everyone else’s countenance suggests they feel. Maybe he does know the truth and everyone else is weaker and more easily fooled by Roi. Or maybe he is so soaked in his uncle’s axioms that he has become evil and is too far gone for even the king’s infamous Book to help. All sense of possibilities, fears, and confusion fill Kesil’s thoughts.

  There’s only one way to find the truth, he figures, find Roi and hear his side.

  ***

  “How much farther are we going to walk?” Lesia asks.

  “When we can find a suitable place to stay the night,” says Chrissi, looking around at the looming sky, slowly darkening and becoming more and more ominous. On the Narrow Path and even in the clearing, trees formed a canopy blocking the eerie nighttime. Even though there isn’t a cloud to be seen, Chrissi notices that even the stars are afraid to show themselves. The only light guiding their way is a brave, faint rising moon and setting sun.

  Kesil rustles in his bag, finally pulling out a flashlight. He has to hit it against his palm before its dim light brightens the wide path ahead.

  All of a sudden, Lesia shrieks, grabbing Chrissi’s arm, almost yanking it out of socket.

  “Ouch!” Chrissi exclaims, though she is more relieved and grateful for her gloves than she is concerned about the momentary pain. Never before has she been in such close proximity with strangers. Never has her curse been more dangerous.

  “Sorry! I totally heard something in the bushes! Over there, right by me!” she points at a shrub near her feet.

  “It’s probably a rabbit or squirrel,” says Kesil, who briskly moves on.

  “Sure, or a hungry tigress,” Lesia mutters under her breath, careful not to let Chrissi stray more than a couple inches away.

  “We’ve been safe from wild animals this whole time,” Phil says, trying to encourage the girls. “Well…not gross, killer, mutant things, but you know, normal predatory mammals.” Phil gulps and snaps on his own flashlight. Lesia and Chrissi quickly dig their flashlights out of their bags too.

  “Wait!” Kesil stops and Lesia lets out a small squeal of fright.

  “Sorry,” she whispers. “Is it a mutant thing?” she struggles to continue her fright in a whisper, causing her voice to crack.

  Kesil looks at her in disbelief and with little concern. “I think it’s a town. It’s only dusk, maybe we can stay with someone. Maybe it is a town like Chazaq.”

  “Fooood!” says Phil.

  “A bed!” Lesia squeals, now in delight.

  “Maybe,” Chrissi says. She makes eye contact with Kesil. “We hope they are like Nahal. But we don’t know for certain. We should approach with caution,” she says, more for Kesil who seems to have his own agenda today, than anyone else.

  “Sure,” he says stoically. They continue slowly towards the town, Kesil, once more, leading the way.

  As they enter what looks like a town square, they see people frantically packing up and closing shop. They do not walk or saunter home, but frantically jog to their destinations.

  “Ex—excu—excuse me!” Chrissi tries to catch several people’s attention but is brushed off each time.

  Finally, an older man passes and Lesia grabs his forearm. He jumps with fright. “Sorry. Can you tell us what’s going on?” she asks.

  “Visitors?” the man pulls at his white-grey hair in anxiety as his eyes shift hysterically between the three of them. He lifts his other hand to his head and drops a small wooden box from underneath his arm. Kesil bends down to pick it up for him. “No!” the man moves with surprising speed and almost collides heads with Kesil.

  “OK, sorry,” Kesil raises his hands in surrender.

  “We must get ready for the evening. Night is coming. We must be indoors,” the man chants nervously what seems to be familiar sayings. He looks around with his shifting eyes. Almost everyone is inside already.

  “The inn!” the man yelps and points to the northern end of the square.

  “Thank y—” before Chrissi can finish her platitude, the man darts inside a nearby building. Phil shrugs and Chrissi apprehensively makes her way across the cobblestone square, around a circular fountain in the center. The rest follow her, looking around at the old two-story buildings doubling as shops and homes.

  When they reach the opposite end, they see a larger building set slightly apart from the rest of the town. A sign above the door reads,

  Shaanan Inn

  (If necessary)

  “Strange,” Lesia says, shivering from the bizarre atmosphere emanating from the inn before them.

  Kesil knocks and they stand waiting expectantly, not sure who or what they will encounter next. When a minute passes with no answer, Kesil knocks again. Harder. Finally, a stout woman with curly hair peeks out the window beside the door. Chrissi waves with what she hopes is a “we’re-nice-and-friendly-I-pr
omise” smile plastered on her face.

  The woman moves to the door and after the clicks of six different locks she cracks it open, sticking just her nose out, “Whaddya want?”

  “Um, we’re just passing through and need a room for the night. Do you have any available?” Chrissi chokes out. She turns to showcase her entourage to see Phil and Lesia standing a couple feet away while Kesil stands guard beside her, a protective brother.

  The woman does not take her eyes off Kesil, standing above the rest of their little coup.

  “No,” she responds. But Kesil catches the door before she can slam it in Chrissi’s face.

  “I think visitors aren’t common around here, therefore, you must have rooms available. We need two.” Kesil stares at the woman, determined to keep eye contact. Finally, after a rather awkward staring contest over Chrissi’s head, the woman slowly opens the door for them to walk through.

  “I have two rooms, upstairs, across from each other,” she says pointing up a dusty wooden staircase, then, after clicking back all six locks, she disappears into a side room. They hear three more clicks behind that door, then silence.

  “Fearless leader,” Lesia motions Chrissi up the stairs. As she takes the first step, Kesil takes it with her and Phil follows closely behind, Lesia hesitantly taking up the rear, but sticking very close to Phil. Almost every stair creaks. Chrissi’s leg shakes slightly with each step. When they finally reach the second floor they find three doors. Chrissi opens the one closest to her on the right.

  “Bathroom.”

  Phil moves toward the door across from Chrissi, “And behind door number two…bedroom number one!” he announces in game-show host fashion.

  “Cute,” says Lesia, pushing him aside and slamming the door shut behind her.

  “Guess that’s the girls’ room,” Phil shrugs.

  “Guess so,” Chrissi hesitates before crossing to the opposite room and following Lesia inside. “See y’all in the morning,” she says more as comfort to herself than a common nighttime farewell, then slips inside.