Chapter 11 -
11/05/2017
“Ori. The name sounds familiar.” Bulkee paused, as if searching for a missing link in his mind. “It must be a name for a noble knight like mine.”
“Bulkee, right? You are the one who got that book.” Ori pointed down with his beak.
“That’s the TimeBook. It’s said to have recorded the history of AohhoA before the concept of time was eliminated. It’s the key to understand and even connect with alternative realities,” Bulkee said with a flourish.
But I noticed a shadow settled over Ori's face like a thought was gnawing at him. My eyes darted back to the TimeBook, as I try to detect the trouble at hand.
Something’s not right. A lump formed in my throat, when I saw the pins on the cover pointing to different directions.
I pursed my lips together, hiding my rising panic. I quietly picked up the TimeBook. My heart sank, when I flipped opened the cover.
There was nothing inside except a hollow dent on the page. The Egg of Promise was missing from the TimeBook.
I pressed my palm onto the imprint and felt the warmth of the leaf
It must be there somewhere
It had to.
I gave the TimeBook a soft shake. A pang of anxiety shot to my chest, when nothing turned up. I closed it and rushed to line up the pins, before I flipped open the cover again.
Still it was empty. I dropped the TimeBook and I rubbed the heels of my hands against my temples. “We’ve lost it,” my voice quivered.
When I lifted my gaze, I was startle to find Bulkee glaring at me. The disapproval in his expression put me on the defensive immediately. I slid my fidgeting hands into my pockets, as I wished for him to stop frowning like it had been my fault.
I was prepared for him to scold at me, to splatter juice of contempt. But instead, I heard him say with almost an air of nonchalance. “The Egg of Promise must have fallen out of the TimeBook, before we leveled off.”
The scene replayed in my head. The TimeBook cracked open in midair. The pages fluttered to decelerate. I could almost see the Egg of Promise pop out. The notion of it crashing into to the burning mire caused me to cringe. Guilt stirred up a rancid ache in my stomach.
How could I not see it coming?
How could I be so careless?
I grew frustrated with myself, as I pressed my palms against my legs.
I was so tire of feeling out of place. Tired of not knowing what was going on. Or what would happen next.
Against my better judgement, I began drowning in my grievance.
“Look. Ears.” Bulkee shouted. “It has happened and we can’t change the fact.”
How could you be so offhanded about that?
We had given our word to the Lethans.
We had promised to deliver the Egg to the King.
We had failed.
Don’t you care?
I wanted to ask him. But I was unable to utter a sound. I just stared back at him.
“When there’s something you can do about it, you do it.” His shoulders rolled up. “But when there’s nothing you can do, just let it be.”
The dispassionate shrug added to the cynicism. It was so venomous that my stomach finally revolted in a sea of nausea. My hands curled into fists, my lips started to tremble.
Don’t you dare to cry in front of him. I told myself and fought back tears.
But Bulkee jumped. “Hey. Get a hold of yourself,” he said. A look of disgust flickered across his face, before he raced up my left shoulder. “The point,” he said, as he jabbed a finger at my earlobe. “The point is that the Egg of Promise is gone and there’s nothing we can do. We have to let go.”
“The point is that you told me it would be safe,” I shrugged him off, breaking free from my mental block. “I trusted you when I really shouldn’t have.” Anger spiraled up from the base of my back and I was shaking violently.
“You can still trust me. The Egg is safe,” his looked up at me, his voice softened.
“How do you know? And what exactly are you keeping from me?”
“I just know things. It’s part of being an AohhoA Seeker of the Enlightened.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look. Ears. As an Enlightened Seeker, I have insights to things that I couldn’t explain exactly. It’s called an Epiphany. It’s like having a sudden flash that tells me things. Things like that the Egg is safe.”
“Then where is it now?” I demanded.
But he hesitated. “Well, I can’t tell you yet. You are not ready for it.”
A loud moan escaped from my throat. I thrust my hands up. Again, I felt so foolish for allowing myself to even listen to this egotistic red pear. I shut my eyes and refused to say another word.
“Sasha,” Ori’s voice startled me.
Heat fluttered my face, as I recognized that he had been watching our dispute all along.
What would he think of me now? I started to feel terribly embarrassed at my outburst.
“What if the Egg left the Book for a reason?” he asked.
I was taken aback by the question. I shook my head as I let my shoulders drop.
“Maybe the Egg was meant to be released at that point,” Ori said. “Everything happens for a reason.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” I repeated it. How strangely familiar the statement sounded! A piece of memory drifted into my mind like a faint odor from a discreet corner of a dark alley.
I was walking down Park Street in Boston. I had been browsing at the window displays, when out of the corner of my eye I spotted something move. It had been a white scarf that fell off an elderly man with a fedora hat.
“Excuse me, sir.” I called out as I picked it up.
He didn’t respond. I quickened my pace, trying to catch up to him. But in just two steps, I heard a deafening noise and felt something crash by my heels.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I was shaken to the ground, my arms bracing my shoulders. The man in the maroon hat turned around, his eyes scanning from the street to me.
“Are you okay?” I heard a woman’s voice. I gazed up to see the concerned face of a stranger.
I glance around. I was confused at the pieces of shattered glass around me. They were stained with fresh stripes of blood.
Was that my blood?
Was I hurt?
What just happened?
“Dat’s messed up! We was standing right there. Did you see it?”
I blinked to find a teenage boy in a flannel coat talking to his friend a few feet away. “Dat crazing eagle!” he said, cupping his hands to his mouth.
That was when I discovered the distorted body of a grisly pigeon next to my foot. My legs jerked back, and I struggled to rise.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off the dead bird. It was soaked in blood. The lifeless head bent at an awkward angle like a small tomato leaking streaks of red slush. The bird’s neck slumped into its shoulders, the feathers in terrible disarray. The skull was slashed open and covered in shiny shards of glass.
Vile slowly rose up my throat. “Here,” I mumbled, handing the scarf to man in the fedora hat.
He quietly studied me and then said, “No, my dear. This is not mine.”
I blinked down, feeling my head grow heavy. The white scarf was peppered with coral dots in a floral pattern. It was a ladies scarf.
“Maybe you should keep it,” he said. “Because you know, everything happens for a reason.” He gave his hat a tap , turned and strode off.
“Everything happens for a reason.” What was that supposed to mean?
I watched him disappear into the crowd and waited for someone to make a claim on the scarf. But no one came forth. My ears began to ache with the booming chatters of the boy in the flannel coat and his friend with a pair of aviator glasses.
Flannel Coat insisted that the bird had been caught in a wild chase by a large eagle. Aviator Glasses challenged him, saying that an eagle of the size was hard to come by in center Boston.
Flannel Coat ripped open his collar and revealed a tattoo of a slanted cross by his left shoulder. He swore by it that the pigeon had rammed into the window of the apartment building next to me. “Dude. They was mad.” he contended.
“You fool. A pigeon can’t break dat glass.”
“Dat was a freak accident.”
The boys went on bickering. But I cringed at the phrase “freak accidents”.
I had gotten used to “freak accidents” by now, because strange things like this always happened around me. But this particular incident really hit home. I shuddered at the possibility of a different outcome.
With just one delayed step, I would have been right there. The weight of the collapsing glass panel would smash into my skull, slitting it open with multiple cuts. My head would have turned into a showerhead of blood.
I would have been like the dead pigeon, if I hadn’t paced up to fetch the scarf. A cold sweat broke on my back, as I scrambled to my feet and shove the scarf into my backpack.
Was that what the elder man meant? That I was saved by that scarf? Everything happens for a reason, right?
“Maybe.” I said with a sigh.
“Maybe.” Bulkee repeated as if coming to a relief.
“If the TimeBook is precisely how you described, it must be sought after by many,” Ori said.
He reached forward and briefly covered the TimeBook with his wing. I was taken aback by what happened next.
As if having a will of its own, the TimeBook rolled around on the ground and then stood erect on its short side and began to shrink in size.
I rushed over, fearing that I would lose it to the shiny pebbles on the ground. I was confused, unable to process what the falcon had done.
When I finally snatched it up, the TimeBook had reduced to the size of an almond on my palm. I darted a searching glance at Ori. What did he do?
“A necklace,” Ori said. “Now it’s easy for you to carry it.”
I lifted up the rectangle pendent. A thin chain draped down from it. I remembered it being used as a bookmark, when Ms. Lethan brought out the TimeBook to show us.
“Put it on,” Ori told me.
But I didn’t move. I trained my eyes on the falcon. Friend or foe? I couldn’t figure him out.
“What are you afraid of?” He asked, his eyes smiled like he was amused.
I was not afraid of anything. Defiantly I drew the chain ajar and looped it around my neck. I stiffened when the cold metal rested on my bare skin. The delicate pendent settled right below my collar bones.
I levelled my gaze. “I will present the TimeBook to the Prince of AohhoA, when I meet him,” I said. I didn’t want Ori to think that I was going to keep the TimeBook in my possession, or that I would ever take a vital article from the royalties.
Ori slit a curious glance at me. “Why do you need to see the Prince?”
“He is the only one with legitimate authority over the Apogee Course. I need him to grant me access so that I can go home.”
“Go home? You do not belong here I suppose.”
“No. I’m from –” I hesitated. “I’m from one of the alternative realities.”
Ori straightened and seemed distracted by something in the distance. I followed his eyeline and was startled to see the sun muddled by a foray of dark clouds, like the luster had been stolen from its once smooth surface.
When my eyes returned, I staggered to find his face just inches away from mine.
“Sasha,” he whispered into my ears. “I’m only telling you this.” I stiffened, when I felt his hot breath on my cheeks. “Protect the TimeBook because it will take you to where you should go. It will show you the way at critical points. Do not ever give it to anyone, not even the Prince.”
His request was very strange and the last part startled me the most. Why was he telling me not to give the TimeBook to the Prince?
I scanned his expression for an answer. But his face revealed nothing, and his wing bars raised high as if deterring me from my quest.
I was still processing what he said, when he began backing away. He moved slowly at first, and then picked up speed.
In a flash he sprang to his feet and dashed off the ground. The sudden gusts of wind pulled ringlets, as I watched him fly into the murky sky. The mysteriousness of his presence burned in my head, even after the outline of his figure merged into the clouds.
“You look stricken. What did he tell you?” Bulkee asked.
I pursed my lips together. The notion that Ori had told me something in private made only one thing clear. He didn’t want his words repeated. “Nothing,” I shrugged.
Bulkee gaped at me with the cold glare of distrust. But I didn’t budge. There was nothing unjust or unfair about keeping it to myself, because he had been the one who was definitely hiding something from me.
“Bulkee. What do you think of Ori?” I asked, deflecting his prolonged stare. I didn’t want to address our fight earlier.
“He saved us and that was impressive,” Bulkee replied. He seemed to have forgotten about our bickering. Or maybe that was how he spoke.
“I know,” I said. “I can’t imagine what would have happened, if Ori didn’t.”
“But I can’t figure him out. There’s something empty about his presence.”
“What do you mean ‘empty’? Like mysterious?”
“No. Not just mysterious. I mean empty as in hollow like a part of him was not there. He had such a remarkably hollow presence that I couldn't establish his identity,” Bulkee said.
“But he had saved us,” I said.
“True,” Bulkee thought for a while. “Listen. Ears. Whatever he had told you, don’t trust all of it, because I just can’t be sure with the empty presence I felt. Something’s of.”
I mentally shook my head. I didn’t want to start another argument with this melodramatic pear.
But which one of them can I really trust?
Bulkee with his incoherent statements?
Or Ori with his strange request?
My temple began to throb with a dull pain. The only thing clear to me was that the challenges of returning home lay beyond my imagination.
“Bulkee, right? You are the one who got that book.” Ori pointed down with his beak.
“That’s the TimeBook. It’s said to have recorded the history of AohhoA before the concept of time was eliminated. It’s the key to understand and even connect with alternative realities,” Bulkee said with a flourish.
But I noticed a shadow settled over Ori's face like a thought was gnawing at him. My eyes darted back to the TimeBook, as I try to detect the trouble at hand.
Something’s not right. A lump formed in my throat, when I saw the pins on the cover pointing to different directions.
I pursed my lips together, hiding my rising panic. I quietly picked up the TimeBook. My heart sank, when I flipped opened the cover.
There was nothing inside except a hollow dent on the page. The Egg of Promise was missing from the TimeBook.
I pressed my palm onto the imprint and felt the warmth of the leaf
It must be there somewhere
It had to.
I gave the TimeBook a soft shake. A pang of anxiety shot to my chest, when nothing turned up. I closed it and rushed to line up the pins, before I flipped open the cover again.
Still it was empty. I dropped the TimeBook and I rubbed the heels of my hands against my temples. “We’ve lost it,” my voice quivered.
When I lifted my gaze, I was startle to find Bulkee glaring at me. The disapproval in his expression put me on the defensive immediately. I slid my fidgeting hands into my pockets, as I wished for him to stop frowning like it had been my fault.
I was prepared for him to scold at me, to splatter juice of contempt. But instead, I heard him say with almost an air of nonchalance. “The Egg of Promise must have fallen out of the TimeBook, before we leveled off.”
The scene replayed in my head. The TimeBook cracked open in midair. The pages fluttered to decelerate. I could almost see the Egg of Promise pop out. The notion of it crashing into to the burning mire caused me to cringe. Guilt stirred up a rancid ache in my stomach.
How could I not see it coming?
How could I be so careless?
I grew frustrated with myself, as I pressed my palms against my legs.
I was so tire of feeling out of place. Tired of not knowing what was going on. Or what would happen next.
Against my better judgement, I began drowning in my grievance.
“Look. Ears.” Bulkee shouted. “It has happened and we can’t change the fact.”
How could you be so offhanded about that?
We had given our word to the Lethans.
We had promised to deliver the Egg to the King.
We had failed.
Don’t you care?
I wanted to ask him. But I was unable to utter a sound. I just stared back at him.
“When there’s something you can do about it, you do it.” His shoulders rolled up. “But when there’s nothing you can do, just let it be.”
The dispassionate shrug added to the cynicism. It was so venomous that my stomach finally revolted in a sea of nausea. My hands curled into fists, my lips started to tremble.
Don’t you dare to cry in front of him. I told myself and fought back tears.
But Bulkee jumped. “Hey. Get a hold of yourself,” he said. A look of disgust flickered across his face, before he raced up my left shoulder. “The point,” he said, as he jabbed a finger at my earlobe. “The point is that the Egg of Promise is gone and there’s nothing we can do. We have to let go.”
“The point is that you told me it would be safe,” I shrugged him off, breaking free from my mental block. “I trusted you when I really shouldn’t have.” Anger spiraled up from the base of my back and I was shaking violently.
“You can still trust me. The Egg is safe,” his looked up at me, his voice softened.
“How do you know? And what exactly are you keeping from me?”
“I just know things. It’s part of being an AohhoA Seeker of the Enlightened.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look. Ears. As an Enlightened Seeker, I have insights to things that I couldn’t explain exactly. It’s called an Epiphany. It’s like having a sudden flash that tells me things. Things like that the Egg is safe.”
“Then where is it now?” I demanded.
But he hesitated. “Well, I can’t tell you yet. You are not ready for it.”
A loud moan escaped from my throat. I thrust my hands up. Again, I felt so foolish for allowing myself to even listen to this egotistic red pear. I shut my eyes and refused to say another word.
“Sasha,” Ori’s voice startled me.
Heat fluttered my face, as I recognized that he had been watching our dispute all along.
What would he think of me now? I started to feel terribly embarrassed at my outburst.
“What if the Egg left the Book for a reason?” he asked.
I was taken aback by the question. I shook my head as I let my shoulders drop.
“Maybe the Egg was meant to be released at that point,” Ori said. “Everything happens for a reason.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” I repeated it. How strangely familiar the statement sounded! A piece of memory drifted into my mind like a faint odor from a discreet corner of a dark alley.
I was walking down Park Street in Boston. I had been browsing at the window displays, when out of the corner of my eye I spotted something move. It had been a white scarf that fell off an elderly man with a fedora hat.
“Excuse me, sir.” I called out as I picked it up.
He didn’t respond. I quickened my pace, trying to catch up to him. But in just two steps, I heard a deafening noise and felt something crash by my heels.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I was shaken to the ground, my arms bracing my shoulders. The man in the maroon hat turned around, his eyes scanning from the street to me.
“Are you okay?” I heard a woman’s voice. I gazed up to see the concerned face of a stranger.
I glance around. I was confused at the pieces of shattered glass around me. They were stained with fresh stripes of blood.
Was that my blood?
Was I hurt?
What just happened?
“Dat’s messed up! We was standing right there. Did you see it?”
I blinked to find a teenage boy in a flannel coat talking to his friend a few feet away. “Dat crazing eagle!” he said, cupping his hands to his mouth.
That was when I discovered the distorted body of a grisly pigeon next to my foot. My legs jerked back, and I struggled to rise.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off the dead bird. It was soaked in blood. The lifeless head bent at an awkward angle like a small tomato leaking streaks of red slush. The bird’s neck slumped into its shoulders, the feathers in terrible disarray. The skull was slashed open and covered in shiny shards of glass.
Vile slowly rose up my throat. “Here,” I mumbled, handing the scarf to man in the fedora hat.
He quietly studied me and then said, “No, my dear. This is not mine.”
I blinked down, feeling my head grow heavy. The white scarf was peppered with coral dots in a floral pattern. It was a ladies scarf.
“Maybe you should keep it,” he said. “Because you know, everything happens for a reason.” He gave his hat a tap , turned and strode off.
“Everything happens for a reason.” What was that supposed to mean?
I watched him disappear into the crowd and waited for someone to make a claim on the scarf. But no one came forth. My ears began to ache with the booming chatters of the boy in the flannel coat and his friend with a pair of aviator glasses.
Flannel Coat insisted that the bird had been caught in a wild chase by a large eagle. Aviator Glasses challenged him, saying that an eagle of the size was hard to come by in center Boston.
Flannel Coat ripped open his collar and revealed a tattoo of a slanted cross by his left shoulder. He swore by it that the pigeon had rammed into the window of the apartment building next to me. “Dude. They was mad.” he contended.
“You fool. A pigeon can’t break dat glass.”
“Dat was a freak accident.”
The boys went on bickering. But I cringed at the phrase “freak accidents”.
I had gotten used to “freak accidents” by now, because strange things like this always happened around me. But this particular incident really hit home. I shuddered at the possibility of a different outcome.
With just one delayed step, I would have been right there. The weight of the collapsing glass panel would smash into my skull, slitting it open with multiple cuts. My head would have turned into a showerhead of blood.
I would have been like the dead pigeon, if I hadn’t paced up to fetch the scarf. A cold sweat broke on my back, as I scrambled to my feet and shove the scarf into my backpack.
Was that what the elder man meant? That I was saved by that scarf? Everything happens for a reason, right?
“Maybe.” I said with a sigh.
“Maybe.” Bulkee repeated as if coming to a relief.
“If the TimeBook is precisely how you described, it must be sought after by many,” Ori said.
He reached forward and briefly covered the TimeBook with his wing. I was taken aback by what happened next.
As if having a will of its own, the TimeBook rolled around on the ground and then stood erect on its short side and began to shrink in size.
I rushed over, fearing that I would lose it to the shiny pebbles on the ground. I was confused, unable to process what the falcon had done.
When I finally snatched it up, the TimeBook had reduced to the size of an almond on my palm. I darted a searching glance at Ori. What did he do?
“A necklace,” Ori said. “Now it’s easy for you to carry it.”
I lifted up the rectangle pendent. A thin chain draped down from it. I remembered it being used as a bookmark, when Ms. Lethan brought out the TimeBook to show us.
“Put it on,” Ori told me.
But I didn’t move. I trained my eyes on the falcon. Friend or foe? I couldn’t figure him out.
“What are you afraid of?” He asked, his eyes smiled like he was amused.
I was not afraid of anything. Defiantly I drew the chain ajar and looped it around my neck. I stiffened when the cold metal rested on my bare skin. The delicate pendent settled right below my collar bones.
I levelled my gaze. “I will present the TimeBook to the Prince of AohhoA, when I meet him,” I said. I didn’t want Ori to think that I was going to keep the TimeBook in my possession, or that I would ever take a vital article from the royalties.
Ori slit a curious glance at me. “Why do you need to see the Prince?”
“He is the only one with legitimate authority over the Apogee Course. I need him to grant me access so that I can go home.”
“Go home? You do not belong here I suppose.”
“No. I’m from –” I hesitated. “I’m from one of the alternative realities.”
Ori straightened and seemed distracted by something in the distance. I followed his eyeline and was startled to see the sun muddled by a foray of dark clouds, like the luster had been stolen from its once smooth surface.
When my eyes returned, I staggered to find his face just inches away from mine.
“Sasha,” he whispered into my ears. “I’m only telling you this.” I stiffened, when I felt his hot breath on my cheeks. “Protect the TimeBook because it will take you to where you should go. It will show you the way at critical points. Do not ever give it to anyone, not even the Prince.”
His request was very strange and the last part startled me the most. Why was he telling me not to give the TimeBook to the Prince?
I scanned his expression for an answer. But his face revealed nothing, and his wing bars raised high as if deterring me from my quest.
I was still processing what he said, when he began backing away. He moved slowly at first, and then picked up speed.
In a flash he sprang to his feet and dashed off the ground. The sudden gusts of wind pulled ringlets, as I watched him fly into the murky sky. The mysteriousness of his presence burned in my head, even after the outline of his figure merged into the clouds.
“You look stricken. What did he tell you?” Bulkee asked.
I pursed my lips together. The notion that Ori had told me something in private made only one thing clear. He didn’t want his words repeated. “Nothing,” I shrugged.
Bulkee gaped at me with the cold glare of distrust. But I didn’t budge. There was nothing unjust or unfair about keeping it to myself, because he had been the one who was definitely hiding something from me.
“Bulkee. What do you think of Ori?” I asked, deflecting his prolonged stare. I didn’t want to address our fight earlier.
“He saved us and that was impressive,” Bulkee replied. He seemed to have forgotten about our bickering. Or maybe that was how he spoke.
“I know,” I said. “I can’t imagine what would have happened, if Ori didn’t.”
“But I can’t figure him out. There’s something empty about his presence.”
“What do you mean ‘empty’? Like mysterious?”
“No. Not just mysterious. I mean empty as in hollow like a part of him was not there. He had such a remarkably hollow presence that I couldn't establish his identity,” Bulkee said.
“But he had saved us,” I said.
“True,” Bulkee thought for a while. “Listen. Ears. Whatever he had told you, don’t trust all of it, because I just can’t be sure with the empty presence I felt. Something’s of.”
I mentally shook my head. I didn’t want to start another argument with this melodramatic pear.
But which one of them can I really trust?
Bulkee with his incoherent statements?
Or Ori with his strange request?
My temple began to throb with a dull pain. The only thing clear to me was that the challenges of returning home lay beyond my imagination.
