The Truth About My Insanity
By: Davis E. Lindsey
Part 4 – Zachary Tahn
Walking for hours on end, it seemed to Elijah that he had barely moved an inch. As he turned around, he saw the ship still lay where it was, broken and rusted, only a few feet away. Yuen was boiling and all Elijah wanted was to find some shade. Up above, birds of an exotic species soared leisurely, squawking at Elijah’s gestures. His clothes were tattered, torn, and encrusted with blood. Towering mounds of red sand dominated the landscape. Small green plants dotted the horizon, “cacti” as Elijah called them back on earth. Here they went by the name of “lectiticus,” or “lecti,” which in the old language meant “juicy,” but to Elijah, meant salvation.
He laughed at that word “salvation.” It like only yesterday when he had to fight his own desires. It felt like only yesterday when he traveled back to earth to save it. It felt like only yesterday when he had to choose between the dangerous life of Elijah, and the sheltered life of Davis. It felt like only yesterday when he made his decision.
Elijah reapproached the ship, close enough to stroke it’s searing hot surface. Quickly, Elijah to retracted his hand quickly, but he could not seem to leave the area. In the distance, a faint laughter beckoned. It laughed again, this time it was a rich and loud laugh that traveled far off and echoed a slightly distorted call, “HaaAaHaaaAAa . . .” before fading.
Off in the distance a silhouette emerged. Elijah’s heart raced. Was this his salvation? Surely it was, surely the man or woman or whatever creature lurked over there wouldn’t just leave him here to die. He began to wave his hands in the air so fast it made them ache, but he dared stop. Loud shouts emanated across the land, making him certain the creature heard him.
He waited . . . and waited.
The silhouette still did not approach. As Elijah gazed into the distance, the small figure eventually disappeared along the horizon, gone as it had come. Elijah’s heart sank, what was he going to do? What if he starved? What if the vicious animals took his life? Elijah did not know and tried not to imagine his body being gnawed apart by large ferocious cats. Instead he sat down on the sand and thought. Elijah thought all day and night, and in the morning the worst was to come.
The silhouette- who it was I still never did discover. For hours that night, I questioned who it might be, and most importantly what it was doing. This and a few others were the only thoughts that seeped into my mind in the horrid cell.
Yes, I still linger in this cell. Patrick hasn’t shown his face since Sivad’s visit. Hopefully we can get this started soon; I’ve come to hate this planet, and its inhabitants.
Suddenly it came to me: the light swords. What have I been doing this entire time!? I was supposed to be testing the darn swords! I need to make sure they work! How could I possibly have forgotten something so important . . . maybe it was the crazy side of me popping up to tell me, “No no no . . . don’t think about the important, instead look at this unimportant rock.” Now came the second problem, though. The sheriff was sitting in his chair, right in front of my cell, sharpening his knife.
The air suddenly turned a harsh cold as light began to collect around my hand. But why? I had not summoned my sword! What if he sees a bloody sword in my hand . . . I wonder what he would do…
A large flash of light and there it stood, a brilliant sky blue sword. It was about as long as the length from my foot to my waist. Its hilt was just recently polished. I tried to de-summon it as quickly as I could but-
“Wot is that?”
The sheriff had looked at me, obviously startled by the blinding light, and of course noticed the brilliant blue that was glowing as obviously as a neon sign in pitch black dark. He looked dumbfounded and did not move. It was too late, he had seen too much.
With a swift motion, I slashed through all the bars of my cage and kicked my way through. I stood in front of the man, my sword was pointed at his chest. A large burst of bravery shot through my body and my sword grew even brighter, almost blinding.
The sheriff looked at my sword, then to me, then to my sword. An unexpected smile arose on his face. A hearty giggle erupted from his throat. He stood up with great swiftness and held out his hand.
I swung my sword at him, expecting the normal watery noise that accompanies a beheading, but instead came a large “CLANK” and my blade recoiled with great force, almost knocking me down. The wind said, “Screw this” and flew from my lungs, leaving a sickening feeling in my stomach.
I looked up to see what had deflected my blade, and saw the sheriff with his hand held out, and in it held a purple light sword.
Aye it was purple! It was as purple as a shiny Keyogre, and its brightness was nearly blinding. I had to shield my eyes to keep a burning sensation from reaching my corneas. The light died almost as fast as it came, and within seconds I was on my feet again.
“Back in,” the sheriff said, he gestured to the cell with his sword. “Back in if yah know whats good for ye.” He seemed to not notice the bars which I had just oh so gracefully put across the room.
I threw another slash at him and he blocked it yet again. I sent a stab aiming for his gut but he flew to the side faster than the greatest of speeding geckos and sent back a powerful swing, which cut deeply into my side. I gave a hearty yell and grabbed at my side, hoping to stop the bleeding. In one last attempt to not be thrown back into that ruddy cell I threw my sword and the aim was true. The sword went flying and went clean through the sheriff’s leg.
We both fell on the floor with a thud what followed next was the longest ten minutes of my life. I was on the floor clutching my wound and the sheriff was doing the same. The image of the skinny crippler from Kinglea seeped into my mind and oddly enough I began to giggle.
“Oy! Are you havin a giggle ya brat?” the sheriff yelled at me. “I’ve honestly had enough of your foolishness…”
“You?” I said.
“You said…’you,’ sheriff.” I said.
“W-well so did you!”
I looked at him and felt a wave of pity fall over me. He looked so weak now, so innocent. Blood seeped out of his leg and was coming my way. Fear overcame his eyes, like someone had just revealed a secret he intended to keep hidden.
“You aren’t from here, are you sheriff?” I asked.
He looked me in the eye. I could see a fire build in it and almost laughed at the thought of him using his last breath to try and kill me so injured. It wasn’t as much this idea that entertained me, as much as it was the thought of him using his last breath to try to strangle the life out of a person who pissed him off.
“No,” he said. “Titanian.”
“You sounded as much.” I said, rolling onto my back with my face to the ceiling. It felt great to finally have my normal accent back again. Finally no more “ye’s” and “yah’s.”
“Twas the accent, so it was.” I said.
The sheriff rolled onto his back as well.
“And where are you from, lad?” he asked as calmly as though his leg wasn’t bleeding like hell. “Where were you born? I’ve been to every planet in this system from Titanus to Darihkahtose and never heard an accent like the one you wield.”
“Nah, as a matter o’ fact.” he said. “but you don’t dress like one of those scum bags. When I saw you by the lake to arrest you, you wore some strange cloth.” He looked at me. “As a matter o’ fact, it’s over there in the cupboard if you wanna change, I know how hot those outfits can get. I used to get a kick out of watching the holden wear those . . .”
“Earth.” I said.
The sheriff went silent. I heard him turn to look at me and I did the same to him. “Earth?” He asked. “ What the bloody hell is that?”
Another laugh found its way out of my mouth. I weakly turned toward the sheriff and said “You know exactly what Earth is, sheriff. Don’t you bloody lie to me.” Just then another question struck me. I turned toward the sheriff to see that he had almost gone. There was nothing could save him now. If I needed to ask this second was the time to do it.
“W. . . Who are you?” I asked. My heart was pounding. Was it him? Was this the keeper of the piece?