Whacked -ch.1-

Whacked



Part 1: Of shields and switching.


Something was wrong.
Something was really, really wrong.

He hadn’t given back Releeshahn to me, and I was supposed to drop the shield? Without any guarantee to have it back?
The guy was craving to go, obviously ready to jump into the gondola at the first flicker of the ice wall. His entire stance, all his reckless prowling shouted that. Why would he bother taking the time to hand something back?
Actually, thinking of his journal, there were indeed great odds that he didn’t plan to hand it back at all. His grudge was too strong. He was thirsty for vengeance - who could blame him? - but this still made him dangerous...

I didn’t dare approach him, but I had no choice.
The grill felt like some kind of securing barrier, and I went for it. I addressed him through the woven branches.

“Err... look. I’ll – I’ll open the shield for you. I will. Only - that book, Releeshahn...”

He didn’t seem to hear or notice me, going on with his prowling. When he cast me a glance, my voice faltered. There was too much madness in those eyes, and no place left for reason. He shook Releeshahn pointedly, then jabbed his chin in the direction of the lever and resumed pacing feverishly.

I sighed in frustration. This couldn’t work, this couldn’t be right.
It was a gut feeling, that instinct I always had for those things.
I felt, I could tell I must not switch the shields.

Resolutely, I went through the door of the first shield and faced him.
He wasn’t looking at me, now cradling Atrus’s book and rocking on his feet. I had to get him to listen.

“Saavedro... listen to me.”

He lifted his gaze, and for a moment I thought he would.

“Saa-"

"What are you doing?”

Flinching, I stood my ground.

“Look. I’ve got a deal."

"Go back inside, and drop the barrier."

"I-"

"Do it. Or I swear I’ll let go of this book!”

He extended his hand, holding Releeshahn over the edge of the platform. Madness was creeping in his voice, and I feared he would do it. I stepped back, panicked. My feet found steps there, and I must admit I felt like running for it.
Deciding to give Saavedro (and myself) a few seconds to calm down, I went down and cast an eye.

And there it was.
A Tomahna book.
I was saved.
That was, if I could get Releeshahn back... Drat.

Fighting the urge to open the book and link away, I went back upstairs. The Tomahna book had given me courage, as well as an idea. The inner shield must be big enough to block that stair as well...
I found Saavedro waiting, and hoped that he was more bent on listening now. At least, he wasn’t threatening to throw away Releeshahn any more. I tried to make my voice steady and persuasive.

“Saavedro. Here is my deal. You go down there, and-"

"What... you don’t think I am serious about destroying Releeshahn?”

He had extended his arm again. I did not waver.

“...and put it down beside the Tomahna book. This way neither of us will touch them before I have switched-"

"Drop the barrier, or I will - drop - this!”

Not a word.
He hadn’t listened to a word of what I was saying.

Fine.
If he was to cling to his book, then I would cling to ‘mine’.
I rushed downstairs again and picked up the Tomahna book.
I sure needed his more than he needed mine at the moment, but mine could be used, not his. He had Releeshahn, I had a way out.
I had hardly been given any time to think though, and ‘intuition’ only told me I couldn’t let him hold the higher ground. I only thought of making us even.
Naturally, there were quite a few major flaws in that crappy reasoning of mine, as I was soon to find out.

Not a second after I had climbed the last step, as he glimpsed the green cover between my hands, a bloodcurdling expression of mingled fear and hatred distorted his wary face. With an exclamation of rage, he hurled himself forwards, raising the heavy, padlocked Releeshahn book with both hands.

I never made it to the control room.
Anyway, what would I have done there?


***

...So bad...
...aching all over...

I feel sick.
Really sick, nauseated.
Yet I won’t retch, I don’t even have that much strength... and my head would explode.

...I cringe, shift slightly in the dark, then cringe again, gasping at the burst of pain in my skull.
As I try hard to stay immobile, the maddening pain subsides slowly, very slowly, then turns back into an even, rhythmical pounding.
My eyes are wet. I do not dare open them. Where am I?...

Some time passes. A long time, it seems to me.
But I really don’t know how much, whether minutes or hours or days. I must have slipped in and out of consciousness.

The pounding has somehow receded. It is still strong, but feels duller. Maybe it is getting better, or maybe I got used to it.
The ground feels hard.
I crack an eye open - and close it immediately, as a whitish, blinding light drills through my very head. As soon as the pain recedes, though, I shield my eyes closely with one hand and open them again, squinting.

The lantern. It is the woven lantern, I caught its blaze directly.

I...
...I am still on the gondola platform.

It is dark by now.

And both shields are up.


Drat, drat, drat, drat, drat.

But wait.
Why did he do that? Why not... just finish me off, or dump me from the platform, like he threatened to do with Releeshahn? There must be more to come, then, he must have some kind of plan for me...
I shudder at the thought.
Knowing him, I had probably better dump myself headfirst right now. Ah, well, there will be plenty of time for that later.

All around, the tiny ticking and crackling noises of the ice-like shields fill the silence of the still air.

Rolling on my back, I look around. No sign of that skull-smashing nutter anywhere. He must have bolted himself inside his bunker, as before. Like it mattered now. I plunge a hand in my shoulder bag, just to confirm what I already know. The Tomahna book is no longer with me.
Anyway, I wouldn’t link.
Like I wouldn’t have linked earlier, can you hear that, you paranoid, crackpot old-...
Well. It must have looked like it, for sure.
Stupid me. That’s what I should have done, to begin with. It is so obvious, now. Trapped between the shields, he would have had no choice but to give the book. Then it would have been so easy to just free him and go...

Trapped?... Now, is that for sure?
Is there really no way out of here?
The ground is starting to feel really cold, I might as well start trying right now. While he’s not here to watch...

Gingerly, I roll on my side and crouch. The pounding increases a little, but is rapidly back to normal. I slowly get up. Apart from a slight dizziness, everything seems to be OK. Sort of. Well, operational, at any rate.
Tentatively feeling the throbbing lump on my head, I look around.

The staircase is blocked alright, as I had expected it to be. The only promising way is that woven grille.
What was really blocking Saavedro here all those years was the outer shield, which code he didn’t know. He did know how to get past the first shield though, so he didn’t need to try and see if there was a way past that grille. He looked surprised when he realised the shields could be switched but not both dropped at the same time, he probably didn’t know, or didn’t remember. So maybe there is a way through that grille...

After ten good minutes trying all possible ways to squeeze myself through each and every twisted gap left between the branches, I have to admit that it really is too tight. All I managed is to tear my clothes here and there and get a good deal of prickling scratches all over myself.
Frustrated, I slam my hands on the grille and it creaks slightly, not giving way by an inch.

Some of these branches don’t look so thick, though. They might be breakable, or maybe I could find a way to bend them, to pull them slightly apart... They are just branches after all. And not really intricately woven...

It turns out they can’t be bent. No matter how hard I strain or hit, they remain perfectly in place. They seem to be as dry as age-old dead branches, and yet... yet they won’t break either.
Once again, I grip them and throw all my weight in a kick, on that spindly one in the middle which seems to be mocking me.
It doesn’t yield or even stretch, or indeed budge at all from the rest of the entwined stuff - instead my foot slips on its somewhat smooth surface, so that my whole leg punches through the gap and my body crashes painfully on the grille.
Head pounding again, panting, I remain immobile for an instant, probably looking like some really stupid fly stuck on a spider’s web.

Then a voice makes me start.

“You know, I do feel insulted.”

***



To be continued...