Hullo there Sparks!
I see I’m a little behind on my housekeeping. I’ll be working on that a bit this week, so be sure to check back in on the INDEX and catch up on any scenes you’ve missed.
Also, I’ve got a bit of stuff going on again. Ugh, life! I hate having to live and function in the real world. Can’t I just stay here in this comfortable fantasy? No? Well then I’ll fill my spare moments with other fantasies.
Like,
‘s Shadows and Space. There’s so much to explore, really a whole new world being built here, but if you’re looking for a place to start, The Spacer Way, really hooked me. Vasilisa is pretty impressive right off the bat. So much action and beautifully told, and in a unique style too.Also, if you have the time, and you haven’t yet, please, please check out
new series (I think it’s a new series, or a continuation of the old one, anyway - edit definitely a continuation) it is shaping up to be pretty fantastic!And lastly, if you’re like me, you love memes, especially the kind that makes you chuckle, or chortle and sometimes, down right rotfl. I suggested very offhandedly, a couple of weeks ago, that these two super cool folks who both do a weekly (or so) meme post, do one together, because why not? AND THEY ACTUALLY DID IT! It’s so cool. Thanks so much
and and congrats. Episode 1 came out amazing, I couldn’t wait for Episode 2, until they posted it, and now Episode 3 is taunting me. Will there be more episodes? There has to be more episodes! Or we shall RiOt!As for the story… Well the title of this one, pretty much gives the game away, and really the return itself isn’t the interesting part, it’s what happens next. Let’s see…
INDEX | Chapter 6 | Scenes 1 & 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 & 6 | Scene 7-9 | Scene 10 | Next Scene →
Previously: Elle seems to be recovering and both Logan and Tom are surprised that she hasn’t tried to run away, but they aren’t talking to each other. Tom looks after Elle and Logan keeps busy with training so as not to go crazy, beating himself up about everything and Luke being gone, but with no communication on either front, the anxiety levels are going off the charts.
My phone is ringing. The tone is an ancient recording of a piano by some famous German composer. The notes go up and down, then around and it starts again, just a simple thing, some noise, but right from the start it echoes off of the surrounding cliffs into a shrill dissonance that grates on my nerves and I can’t ignore it. I sigh trying to reach around and get it without letting go of my handhold on the rockface but it’s on the wrong side, and I can’t switch hands at this angle either.
I came here for peace. With all that’s been going on, I needed to get away, and the Burgundy Spire is supposed to be a challenge. Poorly planned. I wasn’t going to bring the thing along on this trip out to the middle of nowhere. It’s not like I have anyone to talk to these days anyway, but I decided to take it just in case the PG, by some random attack of conscience, decided to show some decency and answer any one of the hundred messages I’ve left them. Not that there ever was much hope of that.
As the ringtone continues, I check the buckles on my harness, the carabiner on the line, and then my belay device, wondering what kind of crazy person wouldn’t just hang up unanswered after the first few seconds. It must be important.
To be fair, I don’t really need all the equipment either, but I couldn’t exactly explain to the guide why I would be able to handle this cliff freestyle without giving away my energetic abilities and it would have raised too many red flags, so I hired what they recommended for the day and resolved to go sans energy, which turned out to be quite the satisfying experience.
Once I am sure the equipment is sound, with the wind howling around the cliffs, I slowly lower myself into the harness and then let go of both my hand holds on the rockface, and brace as the belay device and the line take my full weight then reach around to extricate the vibrating screaming puck from my backpack. Very poorly planned.
“Hi, Logan,” intones in a familiar, tired voice. I’m so surprised that I almost drop the phone when Luke’s avatar pops up on the projector.
“Luke? Wait. What?” I scrabble for the device before it can topple into the abyss below me jumping around so much in the harness that I start to worry about the belayer again and almost let the phone slip out of my hands anyway. Pheww, everything’s secure. Trusting manufactured equipment rather than my own strength is eye-opening.
“I can’t talk for long.” He says curtly, “I just wanted to let you know, I’ve been released. I’m home, I’m fine. You can stop calling General Morgan and I’ve cancelled the interview with that nutjob of a reporter. No need to make noise anymore.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond but hangs up, the little avatar blinking out. I stare at the offline projector for a moment, unsure how much of what I’m feeling is relief and how much is livid rage. I’m supposed to just let it go?!
It’s been ages. We’ve heard no word of him. And now he’s back and we are supposed to say, no harm no foul? What a joke.
For a long time, I dangle there, letting the wind pass over me. I thought it would be quiet up here, but there’s a cacophony of natural sounds and birdcalls that is just mesmerizing.
I wonder how he found out about the interview. I hadn’t really expected my sniffing around to work. It took me a week to even find someone willing to talk to me at all about the PG let alone write and publish anything, but apparently, word gets around.
I look around. I’m twenty-two meters from the summit, it’s about two-thirds of the way, up from the last pitch, which will take another half hour or more if I follow all the guidelines. Then it’s decent and then at least an hour by shuttle to get home once I get down.
Looking up, the sun is at its zenith. There’s not a cloud in the sky. A pair of ravens circle overhead. I watch them, dancing on the wind, a delicate ballet of power and grace, the larger one dips, folding his wings in tight then swooping back up, faster than his mate, while she glides so casually it looks almost effortless. She banks suddenly and turns and a stray ray of light bounces off of her obsidian wings, just before she passes out of sight. I shove my right fist into the chalk bag on my harness and swing into the cliff to find a foothold. Luke can wait.
* * *
The panorama on the summit is breathtaking. I feel light and euphoric even after all that effort. The solid rock beneath my feet feels almost insubstantial as I stand on the pinnacle, on top of the world. Looking down, there’s a layer of mist I hadn’t noticed on the way up and a sheer drop on all sides, except for the narrow crest I followed to get here.
It’s not that high. I could have leaped up in a couple dozen energy-fueled bounds if I had wanted. I could have flown up in a matter of minutes. The air is a little thin, and tight turns might have been difficult but it would only have taken a little extra energy to correct. Tom would love this.
* * *
When I get home, Luke is locked in his study, and I don’t see him the next day either.
Elle is almost back to normal, maybe a little more manic than before. She still won’t tolerate my presence. If she acknowledges me at all, she glares across the room. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to reach her again.
Tom… I try not to think too much about how things are with Tom. It’s just too painful.
* * *
31 days. It’s been 31 days since I bound Elle for Luke. He’s been home for four. I’ve barely seen him. We’ve not spoken. At all.
There is confidence and authority in Luke’s step as he walks in through the open study doorway but it seems to shatter when he sees me.
"Why, hello, Luke," I greet him like a supervillain greeting their nemesis, the slow swivel of the chair behind his desk and all. It almost makes me want to give an evil laugh, but anger and resentment help me contain myself quite nicely.
"Logan,” He answers almost flatly. I can just sense an ominous edge to his silken voice. “May I ask what you are doing in my study?"
Cut to the chase then. “Well, it's all I can do to get you to talk to me! You have barely said ten words since you got back." I stand up from Luke’s tan leather seat and step around the desk.
"I happen to have a lot on my mind, and the load doesn't seem to be lessening.” He eyes me irritably for a few seconds before continuing, “I have work to do as I'm sure you realize." He turns his back on me to hang up his coat and then takes the seat I’ve just vacated.
"Oh, I’m sure you can tell that there's only one way you're going to get rid of me today," I state, trying to sound as obstinate as possible, bracing myself for the onslaught of his influence in case this doesn’t go as I had hoped.
"This isn't a good time, Logan.” HE tries to dismiss me, but I stand my ground. “I'm sure we will have a better opportunity to discuss whatever you want, but right now, I have to work." He mutters, pertinaciously fussing with the already perfect arrangement of pens and files on his desk, anything to keep from looking directly at me and I stop listening.
I knew I would have to approach this subject cautiously, and if I had any shot of winning the argument I’d have to keep myself under control but I’m so angry. All the pain, the anguish, the regret… Everything from the past month is concentrated in that moment, directed at Luke, for what he asked of me, for refusing to even let me voice this simple request now.
“Have you even seen Elle, since you got back?” I ask with a disrespectful snark, knowing he hasn’t had the guts to face her. “Do you know that she cried for a week? She still won’t let me go near her!” I slam my fist into his desk, which creaks loudly, leaving an imprint of my knuckles behind as a few splinters fall off the bottom. He just looks at me, his eyes full of sadness. I take a deep breath, “I know it’s my fault they took you. I can’t imagine what they’ve put you through all this time. I’m sorry for all of it, but I can’t wait for answers anymore.”
“It’s not. I can’t-” He cuts himself off and sighs heavily. “It’s complicated.” I feel his ambivalence. I feel the battle raging in him, between opening up and shutting down.
“Look, I realize that the details are classified - exclusively PG - but you don’t have to tell me what happened while you were there. Just give me something. The least you can do is tell me what I lost her for.”
I sense him weighing the words, considering what he can do to satisfy me while keeping the necessary details classified, weighing the risk of getting caught out. I wait, quietly, striving to get my anger under control and give him a chance to sort it out. He’s not angry, I can sense that much. It’s more… Resignation.
“I’m sworn.” He protests chewing his lip then sighs again as if he is at a loss for words. “They would have detained me anyway. You did the right thing, calling the General after. It would have been a diplomatic nightmare otherwise. As for the interrogation itself, it took me a long time to make sense of it, and then I had to explain it to Morgan…” He seemed to be having trouble looking me in the eye. He just stared at his desk shaking his head.
“She still won't let me near her,” I beg, despair held in the front of my mind where he will read it with a glance. “Tom is taking care of her now and he doesn't even speak to me. You knew he would react badly, so you waited until he’d left. He knew you were up to something and came back. Elle didn’t eat for almost two weeks, ended up passing out on the treadmill, skinned her shoulder and both knees. I know it’s my fault that you weren't here, but you didn't see what it did to him, to watch Elle suffer. Please-”
“Jenina.” He says, out of the blue.
“Excuse me?” I blink while he examines his fingernails.
“It’s not Elle. It’s Jenina. Chrystelle, was her friend who died. That’s who she was calling out to. It hurts every time she hears it.”
“What?”
“I'm so sorry, Logan.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what?” He looks at me. I thought we were getting somewhere. That he would tell me, but now it looks like he isn’t going to and I can’t swallow it down. I yell, “What, Luke? You told them, didn't you? You wouldn’t have come back otherwise, and they would have taken her already.”
“Of course, that was the point of it, but-”
“But you can't? More like you won't, isn't it? I know you're not busy. I know it isn't work that's keeping you up all night.”
“Logan, please try to understand, it's-”
“Oh, I understand alright. You were just using me, just like with the coma and now my job is done.”
“That's not... It isn't like that!” He stands up, fists clenched, still staring at his desk.
“Then what Luke!? Tell me! Explain why I have to watch my brother punish himself. Explain why I have to sit back and do nothing while my friend is still terrified of me because it’s the only thing I can do.” I scream at him, dashing the moisture out of my eyes.
“Logan, you don't understand..." He says, finally looking at me.
"Okay.” I say instead of ‘then make me,’ sensing the conflict inside him over the decision he has just made. Yes!
“Okay.” He answers, and I regard him quizzically. I’m speechless. I can’t believe it.
“Yes, son. But not here. And you can’t breathe a word of it, to anyone.”
“Yes. Fine. Of course.” I finally exhale.
So the story begins...
Next Time: Luke tells Logan his version of the interrogation, and we finally get to see just what happened, how far gone Luke really was and how far he was willing to go.
Thanks so much for reading! If you like, please:
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and as always, I love hearing what you think so, feel free to:
Aha! Oh boy! ...and I will read as soon as I can dedicate some time a little later today!
Much obliged for the shoutout! I hope I can continue writing the new fantasy stories for my Substack, and I promise to post more Vasilisa too :D