Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel (19 page)

He slipped outside his body again to see if
she had arrived.

The initial stage of a Mind Wander was
unpleasant, like constipation of the soul, as spirit struggled to
free itself from flesh. But he heard Josie calling him softly,
teasingly,
Lars Steelsun, come out to play...
and he bore
down again, straining until he felt like a baby slipping from the
womb.

His spirit shed the weight of flesh and bone,
to leave his body abandoned on the cold hard floor. Everything
looked different in this spiritual state. It sounded different,
more echoey. And felt different—vibrato. The cracks in the stone
wall became deeper. The surface of the stone walls was bumpier. As
he ran a finger along the wall, it no longer felt solid, but
vibrated like a tuning fork with its own unique frequency. He could
stick his finger into the brick and pull it back out again.
Sparkles floated inside the dim light coming through the prison
bars.

As he transitioned into the Mind Wander, he
suddenly became aware of Josie hovering a few feet away, patiently
waiting for his senses to adjust. Like Lars himself, Josie’s form
was transparent, an effervescent indigo imprint of her physical
countenance. A white flame burned brightly at the center of her
chest and tiny sparkles flickered around that flame. Even though
her current state reflected her natural one—tattered clothes and
messy hair—she looked incredible. It was as if the gods had
fashioned her out of the fabric of the sky at twilight, sending a
piece of heaven to visit him here on Earth.

“My god, Josie,” he said hoarsely. “You are
more beautiful than the starlight.”

Her giggles tinkled like laughing cherubs.
She took his hand, but he didn’t feel flesh. Her touch was similar
to a jolt of static electricity. He flinched, even though it hadn’t
hurt.

“I’m not sure what I can do in this state,”
she confessed. “Sorry.”

“For starters, you can fashion your own
clothes,” Lars informed her. “Watch this.”

He pictured himself in a tuxedo. Black, with
a tailcoat, navy blue cummerbund, and a white carnation in the
breast pocket. Other than his bare feet, lo and behold, he looked
like a butler.

“Cool!” Josie gushed. “Teach me how to do
that!”

“Only your imagination is the limit. Picture
the outfit and it will appear on your body.”

Josie closed her eyes. Her tattered jeans and
T-shirt morphed into a jean skirt and sweater. When she looked down
at herself, she gasped in wonderment.

“How about something more formal?” Lars
suggested, “We can pretend that it’s the high school prom that
never happened.”

She grinned and nodded. Then closed her eyes.
The jean skirt and sweater morphed into a strapless black ball gown
with a silver sash.

“Whoa,” Lars said, mouth gaping. “You’re
perfection.”

“Look at us,” she said with a titillating
grin. “All dressed up and no place to go.”

“Nonsense,” he said, reaching for her hand,
“we have someplace to go. Follow me.”

Where their hands touched, light crackled
like a mini-thunderstorm, then calmed to a gentle summer rain. The
white flame in his body danced like a candle in the breeze. In her
excitement, Josie’s flame flared and twirled like a top. Unable to
hide her reaction to his touch, she turned her face away from him
in embarrassment. He took her chin in his hand and made her look at
him.

“No more suppressing our feelings for one
another.” He didn’t have to explain what that meant. In this state,
life became pure emotion. “There is no shame in the way we care
about each other.”

“No shame,” she said, with a tentative smile.
“I do care about you, Lars. Very much.”

Holding hands, staring straight into each
other’s eyes, perhaps their very souls, Lars thought he could lose
himself forever, but Josie was growing restless to explore.

“I’ve been outside the prison,” Josie
announced, breaking the moment. “To see if the Seeker of the Four
Winds works in the Mind Wandering state—it doesn’t. But we know the
map is at the same latitude of Tectonia—perhaps
in
Tectonia
itself. All we have to do is travel north up the Kalida again, to
Tectonia, and follow the Seeker west.”

“How far west is the question?”

“We won’t know until we look,” she said. “If
only we could find a way to escape this damn theater company.”

“The squad was headed to Blue River Junction.
If they survived the curse, you have the Seeker, so they’ll have to
come looking for us.”

“Have you forgotten about Lindsey’s Rewind?”
Josie said. “I’m beginning to understand why Red sent her along.
Her charisma is the backup in case something happened to the
Seeker. They might go on with out us.”

“Your brother-in-law won’t let that happen.”
Lars shook his head. “They will look for us.”

“You might be right, but that doesn’t mean we
sit back helplessly and wait. I’ve Mind Wandered the theater
company pretty thoroughly,” Josie said, “And one thing is clear—Mr.
Bayloo has this place locked down tight. Our best chance of escape
will be when the theater packs up and changes locations.”

“In the meantime, it’s a beautiful moonlight
night.” He extended a hand. “Let’s make the best of it.”

She took his hand with a smile, allowing Lars
to lead her through the prison door. They passed through the bars
as easily as the breeze.

“My father taught me the basics of the Mind
Wander years ago, but you’ve only just learned. I hope you’re being
careful.”

“Of course.”

“Traveling too far from your body can kill
you,” Lars tried to reiterate the danger. “If your vision begins to
blur the situation has become critical. Turn back immediately and
head back to home base.”

“You worry too much.” She lifted up her
luminous arms in wonder. “Just look at us—we’re frickin’
spirits!”

Her enthusiasm was contagious. Just having
her here, even if he couldn’t touch her real hand, was a ray of
light in a dark world. He wanted this night to be perfect. With a
sweep of his arm, he motioned toward the exit, and then offered her
his hand again.

“Shall we step outside, my lady?”

She accepted his hand again and together they
glided through another set of bars, floating down the corridor,
into a room full of grimy humanoids, tossing dice, and cussing the
air blue. They kept on going, straight through a closed oak door
into midnight.

A crescent moon hung in a starry sky; in the
intensified experience of a Mind Wander, Lars could only think of
Vincent van Gogh’s
Starry Night
. A luminous moth flew past
him, the soft flutter of its wings as clear as a dove’s.

Other than the electric vibes coming from
Josie’s hand in his, he felt nothing except her happiness. Their
bare feet skimmed over the ground. The arena was behind them as
they followed a narrow path winding up a grassy hillside. A stone
chimney with a twirl of smoke coming out of it made him lonesome
for Galatia, though the scent was absent, as with all Mind Wanders.
He pictured homes like this springing up in Galatia. Would he live
long enough to see his nation born?

In this state, the woodsy wildflowers took on
new life, glowing with dew. Trees became effervescent, outlined
with shimmering threads of silver. Out of habit, he tried to dodge
objects in his path, but it wasn’t necessary. When he passed
through the trunk of a tree, he was momentarily lost in its corky
center, unable to see the world around him, but a blink later he
was back in open air again. The space between the trees became
clogged with glowing white vegetation like lacy doilies. Oceans of
brambles and thorns that would discourage armies became baskets
weaved from reeds and twigs of light formed by angelic artisans.
Josie and Lars passed through them without a scratch.

Their speed increased, their height soared,
his heart—or whatever it was inside of his chest—quickened. Josie
veered off of the path and into a grove of sugar maples. The
further away from his body he went, the more he felt compelled to
return to it. Like a homing signal, the increasing distance nagged
at his spirit to return, but his vision hadn’t dimmed one iota, so
for now he would ignore it. The taste of emancipation was too
alluring.

“Close your eyes,” he said as they ran
faster, never tiring, or slowing. Feeling like a young stag, Lars
encouraged Josie, “And leap like a deer as high as you can!”

She did and suddenly they were both falling.
Opening his eyes, he saw they were ten feet out from the side of a
rugged cliff. A great lake glimmered below them. Josie let out a
scream of panicked exhilaration as they plunged toward the
water.

“Think that you can fly!” he said. “And so it
shall be!”

They softly floated earthward like two rose
petals in the wind and by the divine look on her face, the way her
head tilted back, her back arched, and her arms uplifted and
slightly opened, he knew that she had completely surrendered to the
pure joy of flying.

“This is wonderful, Lars!” she gasped. “The
world has never looked so beautiful. I have never felt so free. I’m
Tinkerbell in Never Never Land,” she said, blowing pretend dust
from her palm. “And you’re Peter Pan.”

The angle of their descent shifted toward a
small island at the center of the lake. They landed hand-in-hand on
a carpet of white moonflowers radiating soft blue light.

“Isn’t it magical?” Josie said, scrunching
her shoulders in delight.

“Yes...” he whispered, reaching up to brush a
strand of black hair from her eyes. He pressed her back to the
ground, leaned over on one knee, and touched his lips to hers.
Sparks sizzled between them, making his body buzz with excitement.
After he pulled away, her arms went around his neck, and she pulled
him closer, kissing him back. Could the night get any sweeter?

He rolled onto his side, beside her. She
placed her cheek on his chest as he stroked her hair. Together,
they stared at the sky. If he had to choose a moment to live in for
all eternity, Lars decided it would be this one.

Neither of them spoke, simply basking in one
another’s company.

After several minutes, Josie yawned and said,
“It’s strange how the stars are beginning to dim.”

“They look bright to me—” he began to say but
realized what was happening. “It’s
The Fading.
We got to
go.”

She tried to stand, but collapsed back to the
ground of the island. Her eyes closed and the flame in her chest
began to fizzle out. Lars scooped up her specter form into his
arms. He leapt into the air and skimmed the side of the cliff like
Superman carrying a limp Lois Lane. Speeding through the forest,
past the house with the chimney, he saw the arena ahead. Her form
tensed up and she lifted her head groggily to let out a moan.

He brought Josie’s spirit to her cell and set
it on top of her body, where it absorbed back into its corporal
form. Her two cellmates were sleeping in opposite corners of the
room. One was a mixed breed—part Commoner, part Gargo—a real ugly
specimen more muscular than any Commoner man. The other was a tall
slender gossamer-winged woman named Willow.

“Even though I can’t see you anymore, Lars.”
She reached into the air toward him. “I know you’re there. Thank
you for a wonderful night.”

In spirit form, Lars kissed her lips of
flesh. Her fingers caressed the spot he had touched, so Lars knew
that she had somehow sensed him.

“Good night, Josie Rose,” he said wistfully.
“Until we meet again.”

(Larsen Drey Steelsun)

The night of the Mind Wander left Josie in a
coma that lasted two days. The trainers brought Lars down to her
cell where Mr. Bayloo himself was waiting. They wanted Lars’s
opinion on what might be the matter. He used the opportunity to try
to make things better for her.

“Galatian women’s bodies shut down when
they’re under too much stress. She needs more food, new clothing, a
brush for her hair and for god’s sake, don’t let her sleep on the
cold floor anymore. Get these women some benches like the men have
in their cell.”

The next time she appeared in the arena, her
hair was combed smooth. She was wearing a pair of brown trousers, a
white tunic with crisscrossing strings that went halfway down to
the hem and a new pair of black leather boots. She looked at him
and mouthed the words
thank you
. Then she rubbed her belly
in indication that it was full and gave him the thumbs up sign.

As much as they wanted to repeat that magical
evening together, Josie and Lars decided to limit their Mind
Wandering visits to once a week and to limit their traveling radius
to the areas just outside of the arena. Neither wanted to ruin
their time together by talking about the training and especially
the upcoming shows; mostly they dwelled on better days back in the
bunker.

This afternoon, a hot breeze twirled dust
around the practice field as the chief trainer, a humorless
amphibious humanoid of uncertain race, marched out into the arena.
He had a spiky fin that went down the middle of his hairless
blue-green head like a Mohawk. His yellow eyes were hard and
hateful. His heavily scarred face reflected years of experience
earned the hard way.

He promised to make the cast members work
until they bled. And he was good on his word. The other slaves
called him Slaughterhouse for good reason. Unfortunately, he seemed
to have taken an instant dislike to Lars and Josie. He called Lars
out to the center of the arena for a warm-up while the actors and
trainers watched. Tossing a sword at Lars’s feet, he ordered the
“Filthy Galatian” to spar with him.

They warmed up with a few jabs. As the sun
beat down, both of them glistened with sweat, which caused the dust
from the arena to stick to their skin.