Child of the Sun Forward, Preface, Chapter One

Okay, here's the first part of my story, Child of the Sun that I promised. Please let me know what you think. I'm having trouble with the dream sequence in this chapter. I'm being pulled in oposite directions with people telling me to put both italics AND quotes, and people telling me to just put italics and no quotes. Not sure how to approach it.

Foreword

In the beginning, the human race was very different. They looked like two people joined together back to back, with two faces, four hands, and four legs. For some, both halves were male; they were said to be born of the sun. Other had two female halves. They were said to be born of the earth. And the last were half male and half female. These were called the children of the moon. All of them were powerful, and threatened the gods themselves. And so the king of the heavens took his thunderbolt and severed the creatures. And what was once whole was divided.

Ever since that violent sundering, each poor, lonely human yearned to find the missing half. They strove to return to a happier time and a recollection of the unity they had lost. This is the origin of desire. And love.

~Plato

Preface

The idea for this story came from many different places. Above all, it was inspired by L. Frank Baum’s Oz series and Syfy’s Tin Man miniseries that was also based on L. Frank Baum’s Oz. The story plot itself is set two hundred years following the miniseries. The title, Child of the Sun stems directly from Greek Mythology as noted in the Foreword by Plato. Other inspiration for this story came from Apollo Smile’s song, Thunderbox.

It came to light after reading a good portion of L. Frank Baum’s Oz series that much of Baum’s ideas were steeped in magic and transgender notions. This is not to say that L. Frank Baum was trangendered, but merely points out that his character, Ozma, the rightful girl ruler of Oz had once been called Tippertarius, a character who for part of the series was in fact, male.

This way of thinking brought on the idea that one might be able to write a story about Oz in which the relationships between the characters might be viewed as falling in the same general category. While the characters of Child of the Sun are not transgendered or change gender via magical devices of any kind, the relationship that develops in the telling of the story is not for anyone who is against gay rights. If the story concept offends you, simply don’t bother turning the page. As described in Plato’s Foreword, those thought to be children of the sun were both male.

~ Sharon Akins

Chapter One

Help me… please…

The call was mournful and echoing; metallic. It raked across the senses, causing an explosion of pain. The brunet gasped, crying out. Amber eyes widening, he stumbled into the small clearing after experiencing the blinding white flash that accompanied the plea. He paled, his skin clammy as he grasped the uneven bark of a large oak tree. He squeezed his eyes shut, his head throbbing suddenly, as his world began to spin. He ignored the sounds of movement behind him, looking around for the source of the call. Swallowing thickly, he panted for breath, his skin glistening. Droplets of sweat rolled down his neck.

“Who’s there?” he called, keeping his voice low to prevent his companions from overhearing in case there really wasn’t anyone there. He knew they already thought him crazy; he’d already heard their whispered comments and didn’t want to give them any further evidence.

He growled softly, narrow Grecian features twisting in frustration as he strained to hear the soft plea once more. All he heard was the hushed muttering of his companions as they grew closer. He tried to filter them out as he listened for the voice he’d heard, but it was no use.

“Mica?” the young female voice sounded far away as he strained to hear. He jumped, brought back to the present by a gentle touch on his arm and looked back to see worried eyes studying him. “Are you all right?”

Gazing into the girl’s eyes, he felt that he should know her; she was his companion after all. He recognized her that much but… he sighed, shaking his head. It was like holding onto sand. One minute he thought he had something, and the next it slipped away. He knew her though; she had that sense of consistency. He could remember waking up and seeing her face – all of their faces – every day as the four of them moved together from place to place. How long they had been traveling with together he couldn’t say, but enough to recognize her.

He looked away, biting his bottom lip as he searched the trees and listened again for the strange plea. He exhaled heavily and turned to her again after a moment. “I’m fine,” he replied. Mica, the name she’d used when she spoke to him; it didn’t sound familiar, but it must have been his. She’d been looking at him and touched his arm when she’d spoken. He just wished he could remember.

Mica knew he disappointed her when her hopeful expression vanished in an instant. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling his insides knot. He hated disappointing people, and it left him feeling horrible.

“Sorry,” he murmured, lowering his gaze. He glanced up when she touched his arm once more to see her smiling at him.

“It’s okay,” she replied, keeping her voice low as well. “You can’t help it, nor can you change what you’ve been through. I’m just glad that you remember us enough to know that you can stay with us. I’d hate to wake up one morning and find that you’d left us.”

Mica sighed and looked back toward the trees, his expression thoughtful as he chewed his lip.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, drawing his attention once more.

“Yes,” he replied and smiled at her. “It’s just a headache, that’s all.”

“They’ve been happening a lot, haven’t they?” She still looked worried.

Mica exhaled and nodded. It felt strange to answer to a name that seemed so alien to him, but to be honest, he had been trying to hide the fact that the headaches still plagued him since they were always on the move. The man leading their group liked to push them to get as far as they could every day before they made camp for the night, the older woman with them agreeing. Towns were avoided as much as possible. Instead, they stayed to the forested areas and crossed open spaces by the quickest way possible.

Mica might not remember who the others with him were exactly, but he did remember that they weren’t traveling for the fun of it. They weren’t gypsies looking for work either, they were hunted. Most importantly, he could recall what the men hunting them looked like. Making his headaches known endangered the others. Mica knew the young girl - what was her name? - would make them stop for him, and he didn’t want to cause anyone problems.

Mica turned to glance over his shoulder when he heard a loud groan and saw the leader of their small group stop and stretch his back at length. The older woman stopped as well and began to pull things out of her pack to set up camp. Mica swallowed nervously when the man looked over, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“So, how is he?” the man began gruffly, addressing the girl and nodding toward Mica.

The girl squeezed Mica’s arm and smiled at him before heading back to the others. “He’s okay,” Mica heard her say. “It’s just a headache.”

Mica shrank back in the shadows against the tree when the man looked up
again with a grim, thoughtful expression on his weathered face.

“Well,” the man inclined his head toward the woman. “I suppose that it’s about time to make camp anyway, it’s not like we’d get much further before dark anyhow. Just hope this headache of his is gone by morning.”

Mica nodded curtly, his throat tightening at the thought of what might happen if his accursed headache still lingered by morning. Oh, his headaches were rare enough, but when they did hit, they were debilitating. On more than one occasion the young girl had demanded they halt to allow him rest until his headache subsided. The leader of their group and the older woman were never pleased about this, and Mica often thought they begrudged him for the headaches, but they was rare enough to allow forgiveness. This was the main reason he’d tried to hide the fact that the headaches happened more often than he let on.

Sighing, Mica dropped his pack and slumped down against the oak tree. Closing his eyes, he tried to tune out the noise made by his companions. This time though, he wasn’t trying to listen for the voice he’d heard, but to ease the throbbing headache.

Opening his eyes wearily after a few moments, he dug into his pack and pulled out a dirty beige rough wool blanket and shook it out, scattering dirt and leaves in the small gust he created. Tucking it up around his shoulders, Mica turned on his side away from the others and curled up.

Thankfully, from the first headache he’d experienced with the others, they knew not to disturb him for food regardless of how long it had been since he’d eaten. They had all learned that it only made him sick, his stomach turning in knots. Severe nausea was another unfavorable experience that always seemed to accompany the severity of the headache, and any attempt to eat always wound up with him expelling anything he tried to ingest. Mica was lucky enough to get water to stay down. It was better to go hungry for now than to make things worse.

The twitter of the birds around the camp helped to soothe Mica’s headache. The quiet, and sometimes not so quiet sounds of his companions’ conversation became nothing more than a soft din replaced by the sound of his breathing as he focused on it. The more he focused on his breathing, the slower it came.

Mica sighed softly as he drifted off to sleep, his headache easing even more as he was encompassed in darkness. Then, in his mind’s eye, he saw the clearing they had entered; only this time, he was alone with nothing but the birds to keep him company. They were singing softly though they were hidden in the trees in the soft light of evening. He swallowed upon seeing himself, but the self he saw in his mind’s eye appeared calm and relaxed and gradually the tension, discomfort and pain of the day left him completely.

Hello?

Mica’s breath hitched and the image of himself that he saw in his mind’s eye gave a jerk at the sound, opening his eyes. No one had ever invaded his solitude before, at least not that he could remember. Looking around, he didn’t see anyone; he was still alone and the birds were still chirping merrily in the trees. The sunlight still streamed down upon him, highlighting the different tones in his short, curly chestnut hair. However, something was off about this place...

Hello? Is anyone there, the strange voice called again.

Hello? Mica called in return, continuing to scan his surroundings. Yes, I’m here. Who are you?

Silence; then after a moment, a soft, stifling sob. Please... the voice called out pleading pitifully. Please, help me.

Coldness filled Mica that seemed to soak down to his bones despite the warmth of the day at the fear in the voice. What’s wrong? he asked getting to his feet, pushing himself up against the trunk of the tree and swayed slightly as he gained his footing among its gnarled roots. Where are you?

Mica gasped as inertia took over, and stumbled, trying to regain his balance as he swept swiftly through the forest beyond the meadow where he’d started. It took him a moment to steady himself and he realized that he had never moved a step, but that it was the forest which in fact moved around him. The forest flashed by him as though he were following a path. Wait, Mica called out. Slow down!

But the movement continued steadily, even speeding up and he tried to remember the twists and turns, the lefts and rights through the winding forest as it sped by. Suddenly, there was a flash as the edge of the forest burst around him and he was in a wide open meadow of tall grasses and yellow wild flowers. There he saw a tall white oak tree, taller than any of the trees around.

Moving forward, though more slowly this time, he noticed a weathered wooden fence and an old, weathered, but still inhabitable cabin nearby with a red shingle roof. It had a small porch and screen door that hung a little crookedly on the door frame.

The landscape moved around him again, drawing backward this time, and he stumbled slightly, surprised by the change in direction. He saw the white oak once more, off to the left of his field of view, but it was what was in his central view that made him gasp. Some tall grass and yellow flowers had been trampled and cleared around the capsule-like top of a cylinder sticking out about two feet above the ground.

Mica swallowed convulsively when he saw the capsule, recognizing it. He’d seen many in his travels, he remembered that much. Most though, had been empty. This... Mica asked. This is where you are?

At first, his only answer was another stifling sob, and he didn’t think whoever was in trouble or seemed to be in trouble, would answer. After a few moments of silence however, there was a soft, tearful response he had to strain to hear.

Yes.

Mica exhaled a shuddering breath as a chill ran down his spine. How-how long?

More tears and Mica waited patiently for a reply.

I… I don’t know.

Mica shuddered once more closing his eyes, forming a steeple with his long, nimble fingers against his lips.

Please... the pleading and decidedly male voice begged. Please, help me.

I will. Mica promised and opened his eyes, sitting down in front of the capsule the man had showed him. But you have to show me how to get here again - slower, this time, all right? Can you do that?

I... I think so.

Mica waited but nothing happened. Are you all right? he asked after a few moments of silence though he could still sense the man’s presence.

Umm... the man replied hesitantly. Just… Just a moment.

Mica blinked and couldn’t help the smile that graced his features, closing his eyes with a nod, exhaling softly he waited. Hands resting on his knees, he focused on his breathing once more and centered himself. Willing himself to relax, the scene around him dissolved slowly, once more revealing the clearing where he had started.

Now, Mica said, opening his eyes after feeling the scene around him change. This time, a little slower, okay?

Okay, the man agreed before the forest began to move once more as he showed Mica where he was.

All right, Mica thought. Left under the boughs of the arched trees, forward twenty, no, thirty paces, over the fallen log, steer right for fifteen paces... His thoughts went on and on as the man showed him the way to the edge of the forest to the place where the cylinder rose partially out of the ground.

So, Mica said once he’d mapped out the course through the forest in his head. Who are you?

Silence once more and Mica looked around still sensing the man’s presence.

Do you not know who you are, or do you just not want to tell me? Mica asked.

No, the man replied.

No, what? Mica asked. No, you don’t know, or no, you don’t want to tell me?

I don’t know, the man answered quietly, and Mica could almost hear the man swallow reflexively. D-does that mean you won’t help me?

No, Mica replied. I said I’d help you, and I meant it. I just want to know more about you. Do you know why you were imprisoned?

Again, there was silence, but he got the impression that the man was thinking rather than delaying in his response.

I think so, yes, the man replied after a moment.

And? Mica asked, prompting him to continue.

I... I think I was part of the resistance.

The resistance? Mica asked.

Well, the man drawled uncertainly. I - I’m not sure.

Why is that? Mica asked. Is it because you’ve been in there a while? How long have you been in there anyway?

I said I don’t know... the man replied. But I - I see things.

You see things? Mica asked uncertainly and felt as though he could see the man when he sensed him nodding.

Yes... the man answered and he was able to sense the man’s nervousness.

What kinds of things do you see? Mica asked curiously.

I - I’ve seen them... The man said.

Them? Mica asked in confusion. Them, who?

M-my family... and the men who came to our house... the man replied.

You can see them? Mica asked. You mean the men who came and imprisoned you?

Yes, the man replied. The sound was no more than a whisper and he could sense the man’s fear and confusion. I... I mean, I think they were my family. T-the man...the one who came to our house… H-he said ‘the-the family who stays together, pays together’ and we were k-kind of dressed the same... not like the other men who came. They were all in black armor.

Mica exhaled heavily and nodded looking off into the distance, away from the half buried cylinder still in front of him. The Black Knights, he muttered. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair before looking back. But you don’t remember who you are?

No, the man replied. I can see them; my family; and I hear names called out but...

But you don’t remember who is who, Mica finished when the man trailed off. Mica sensed the man’s acquiesce to the assumption in the silence. He exhaled once more and scrubbed his face looking back at the cylinder. It was true. Blinking he looked at the outside of the cylinder. Cocking his head, he studied it . Reaching up, he touched the plaque that was welded to the opening of the cylinder, but it was blank. It was scratched and tarnished as though there’d once been a name there, like all the cylinders that he’d come across had been marked. This one looked as though it had worn off or been destroyed. Pulling back in awe, he let his fingers fall. The man really didn’t know who he was.

The man sighed heavily. No, he said sadly.

Mica was quiet for a while, deep in thought.

Help me, the man pleaded, his voice trembling with suppressed fear.

I will, Mica assured him.

The man released a shuddering breath.

Are you all right? Mica asked, his worry increasing as he wondered just how long the man could survive. Perhaps there was a mechanism on the deprivation tank that had broken.

I’ve been better, the man answered. D-do you know when you’ll get here?

Mica couldn’t help the sad smile that tugged at his lips. Look, I know you want to be released, and I intend to help you, but you will have to wait a little longer... I can’t leave just yet.

Why not? the man asked, his voice filled with curiosity and petulance.

Well, if I leave now, I could get lost for one thing; and you’ll be waiting that much longer. I can’t go in the middle of the night; it’s too dark, Mica said.

You won’t get lost, the man said certainly. If you do, all you have to do is ask me and I can show you the way.

Yes, I’ve seen that, Mica replied. My question is, how. Like how you’ve been able to contact me, to affect my meditation. It’s never happen before that I remember.

I - I don’t know, the man answered quietly. You’re the first person I’ve ever met since... The man trailed off not knowing how to finish the sentence.

Mica nodded, understanding what the man didn’t say. Well, I still can’t go until morning, he said and his thoughts lingered on the young girl he was traveling with and what she’d told him earlier. I’m not traveling alone, and my companions will worry if I’m gone when they wake up.

I see, the man murmured.

I’ll be there as soon as I can though, Mica assured him. I promise.