Elysium: Book Six of The Liminality

Chapter 51 - The Enclave

Dad looks to me and I nod back. We let the watchstander lead us back to the gaggle of Old Ones on the other side of the hill.

Zeke doesn't need a babysitter anymore. He has every appendage tapped into every available source of sustenance. He's recuperating quite well on his own now. He's not quite ready to carry passengers again, but he's getting there.

I can't get over how young this watchstander looks for an Old One. She's not at all what you would call 'withered.' I mean, she still could have passed for somebody's grandma, but she didn't have the mummified crypt keeper look that most of the Old Ones had acquired.

She must be new. I really think it's true that some folks are born with old souls. Some achieve that enlightenment thing that sets them apart from us ordinary souls a lot quicker than others.

Her eyes are pegged wide. I sense an urgency in her manner that I'm also not used to seeing in her kind. Most Old Ones I know tend to remain quite chill in the face of imminent calamities. Something big is happening.

The hilltop now forms the point of a peninsula in the sea of killfire. The flames are sweeping across the plains to either side. It lingers until every shred of life and root is turned to cinder. Smoldering ash fields are left in its wake.

I have to say, that evil stuff sure is pretty to look at when it's doing its thing. Maybe that's just the juvenile pyromaniac in me talking, but there are just so many pretty colors! The bulk of it has a tone like the blush on a peach, but emeralds and baby blues tinge the flare-ups here and there.

We come around a rocky buttress and everyone back at the gaggle is alert to our approach. It's disconcerting to have all of those deep set eye pits homed in on us. I am way more used to seeing Old Ones stare blankly out into space.

I stop and look around for the spokesperson we spoke to before, but I don't see her anywhere. Instead, another woman steps forward. This one would look at home in a burial chamber. She has a hairdo like one of those old-fashioned troll dolls, except her hair is totally white and she's balding in front, exaggerating the dome of her forehead. A crudely sheathed machete dangles from her hip.

"So what's up? Did you guys find the Enclave?"

"Yes. We found a passage."

"Awesome! So how do we get that info into my chariot, Zeke? I'm not sure he's ready to go anywhere quite just yet, but he's getting stronger every minute."

"That vessel will not be suitable."

"Excuse me?"

"You will need a different vessel. That one will not do."

"What? No! Zeke will be just fine. He's almost back to full strength."

"That one cannot pass. It is derived from Pounce's flesh. Our foes are attuned and alerted to her signature. They would interdict it with ease."

"No way. We're not going anywhere without Zeke."

Her almost smile shifts a bit. Her gaze remains piercing.

"Your father also will not be joining you."

"Say what?"

"Stealth is required. His presence would compromise any possibility."

"No! Dad's coming with me!"

"No," says the new spokesperson. "It is not possible."

"It's okay, son," says Dad. "I can stay behind. I don't mind. I can hang back and take care of Zeke."

"So how the fuck do I get to this place?"

"Not in your present form."

"What do you mean?"