The Merman and the Moon Forgotten

Ten • The Truth





Having just been downgraded from hover, the truck tore through the first floor of a newly constructed highrise, two gated communities, and the Colorado City summer parade. The drum major grabbed her skittling baton and yelled after them, “Antique cars will just get someone killed!”

Nick didn’t care. He was just happy to put some distance between them and what Grand called trackers.

Eventually, they took the I-45 highway. Since the transportation industry could not afford hover technology, the old highway had been reserved for transport vehicles. Grand was able to zip quickly past the compact trains and eighteen wheelers.

Once they passed Dickinson Bridge, everyone’s leashes began to spark. They shook their wrists, trying to stop the electrical jolts, but it didn’t seem to help. BioFarm’s properties were moving outside of the assigned fifteen mile perimeter.

Grand followed the signs to Sion Park. Once there he smashed through the guard arm, ignoring the attendrone’s request of payment. With little visibility and a waning Moon to guide the way, they crept along an old service road for another hour. Finally, the truck drove into a forest clearing.

Grand launched from the cab, leaving on the remaining headlight. “This should do for now. Tried to be as unpredictable as I could,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He grabbed the mimes and let them fall like sacks of beef. “Everyone, out.”

A blue arc leapt from Brandy’s arm. “Ow! These really hurt!”

“Have to figure out how to turn those off,” said Nick.

“Don’t worry about that. I have a halter.” Daniel held a flat object, the shape of a dime. “Saved it for such a time. Brandy.”

“That’s high security stuff?” said Nick.

“Yes. I know,” said Daniel. “Brandy. Your leash, please.”

“But the cops don’t even have those. Where did you get it?”

Daniel didn’t respond. Instead, he held the halter until Brandy’s leash clicked and slid to the ground. “Who’s next?” Several more wrists raised into the air.

“Where did you get it, Daniel?” Nick repeated.

“I have my sources,” said Daniel.

Nick watched the leashes fall to the ground one by one, their read outs still projecting the refugees’ bio-rhythms and life expectancy. Everyone automatically rubbed their wrists, while exchanging looks of elation, concern, even wonder. Nick considered the leashes on the ground. He really didn’t understand what it meant to be the property of someone else.

“You and you.” Grand pointed to Tim and Xanthus. “You’ll be storing the bodies into the pressers. This is how it’s done.” Grand grabbed the pinky of the Sonya-mime and shoved it into the presser’s tip. He stepped on the presser and bounced his leg up and down like a one-footed jig. Xanthus’ mouth fell open as the Sonya-mime began to shrivel. It was like watching fruit dry.

Tim slowly put one shoe onto the presser. The Sonya-mime’s finger slipped out.

“Just shove it back in,” said Grand. “Try the tongue if it gives you trouble.”

Tim looked at his grandfather like he was seven kinds of insane. He went to his knees, grabbed the red fingernail of the comatose Sonya-mime, and slipped it into the presser. The knuckle crack-popped and slipped out again. Even in the moonlight one could see Tim turn pale. After a few more attempts, the finger sealed into place. Tim stood to his feet and began slowly pumping the presser with his foot.

Phfit. Phfit. Phfit, the presser blew and sucked.

Grinning at his Erik-mime, Xanthus raised his massive leg and barreled down.

PHFIT! The Erik-mime jumped a foot.

“Not too hard, now, boy!” Grand yelled. “It’ll just make a mess if ya go and pop ‘em . . . Very good, that’s more like it. Should keep ‘em for the time being,” Grand sighed. “Have to see about an antidote Monside.

“Now—” Grand prodded the inner lining of his coat. “—a world of explanations and an hour to give them, if that. The trackers are mighty slow by land but know how to ge—Ah, thought I had a bit of stardust left over.” He pulled out a purple satchel. He tore it open, iridescent dust flying everywhere. Grand stuck his hand into the dust and motioned several complicated gestures.

“These be the wretched scuccas.” Three monstrous images appeared.

Phfiiiiiiiit . . . Both pressers stopped sucking.

“Keep pressing, boys,” Grand ordered. “We’ve very little time before the real scuccas are upon us.”

The combination of dust and headlights produced a ghostly replica of the trackers. This version moved with their necks to the ground and let out an occasional cry.

“I’m afraid your friends are about to get a mouthful,” said Grand. “Our family has been on the run these fourteen years.”

Their grandfather’s expression shifted. The fatigue of running for years appeared around his cheeks and brow. With a sigh, he stepped toward the stardust. “They poisoned your true parents, killed my wife, and drove us from my fair city, Huron. I forsook my stewardship of Huron to bring us here, thousands of years in the future.” Grand wrung his hands. “Nevertheless, they followed me. It seems that even time and space cannot bind such darkness.

“They are an unnatural kind, filled with dead magic and all its trappings. Scuccas cannot die until they’ve tracked down and brought their prey to their master. Like a dog or wolf, they can pick up one’s scent, but what they do with it is quite wicked. A dog can only smell the trail one leaves behind, but a scucca can smell you, your habits, your passions, your very decisions, present and future. And they will use it against you.

“That’s why I kept to the hovertruck all these years. Made it difficult for them to pick up a fresh scent. Staying away protected you and your mime-parents from them until . . . until I got sloppy. For the first time in fourteen years, I let my passions take hold when my archaeological team discovered Ludwig’s message. Foolishly, I came groundside, touched Ludwig’s chronomessage and then left it there with the Peruvian. They must have found the artifact and smelled my intentions. Learned of you and your mime-parents. And so the scucca poisoned them, knowing I would be forced groundside again to fetch them.”

Phfit. Phfit. Phfit. The pressers beat slowly.

Nick scanned the faces of all his friends. Daniel tilted over his cane. Haley had her arms crossed.

Did they believe Grand? Do I?

Phfit. Phfit. Phfit . . .

“I told you it was real!” Xanthus performed a frighteningly good drop kick. “I told you, I told you. I told you, I told you. No one believed me. No one. Redemption!”

Haley rolled her eyes. “What do they want with you?”

“Bet he’s torn between love for his family and duty to his country,” Caroline offered.

“Dude. It’s gotta be the Lord of Fire and Ice,” Xanthus said. “He wants to conscript Grand into his elite warrior guard, but Grand works for no one.”

“What do they want with you?” Nick repeated Haley.

“It’s not what they want with me,” said Grand, “but what they’re trying to keep me from. Chasing me away from Huron has left her and her citizens vulnerable. The Dujinnin have now openly attacked the Merrows. While Merrows . . .”

“Mermaids?” Xanthus called out.

“Well,” said Grand, “that is what we call the female Merrows.”

“Whatever,” said Xanthus. “Mermaids are hot!”

“Anyway,” Grand said. “The Merrows do not live within the city walls, rather off the coast of Eynclaene. Still, they are given Huronite citizenship because they manage and guard all of Huron’s wealth in offshore accounts. I would suppose the Dujinnin mean to plunder those treasures. I must return to her and so must you, Nikolas.”

“What? Me?” said Nick. The more Grand talked, the more he felt confused.

“It is you Huron needs now, Nikolas. I would’ve never risked coming to the ground and out in the open like this if it wasn’t for our dear city. The Merrows are in grave danger and with them, Huron herself. I must bring you home.”

“Home?”

“Aye.”

Nick couldn’t manage a response. All he could do was listen to the pressers. The mimes had withered to half their size.

Grand squared to Nick. “Above all else, what do you desire from this life?”

“Home—Moon, of course,” Nick combed through his hair slightly frustrated. “But I don’t get any of this. Where’s this city you keep talking about? Is there like an unheard of civilization somewhere? Underground? Why do you keep talking about the past like you’re some time-traveler or something?”

Grand stepped into the middle of the stardust scucca and spun his finger like a lasso, each revolution smaller than the next. Dust began to clot into spheres.

“Saturn . . . Jupiter . . . Mars,” said Daniel as planets took shape.

“What’s that stuff you’re using, again?” said Xanthus.

“Stardust,” Grand said. “This was Earth myriads of years ago, before men kept record of the heavens. If they had, they would have known that our solar system bore not eight, but nine planets.” He stepped to Earth and did a quick revolution around it. “Earth had a twin.”

“Huhhh,” the kids said.

A second planet crested over Earth like a blue-white sunrise. But it wasn’t its mirror copy, they were fraternals. Slightly larger, its oceans were a deeper hue, its continents more severe and pronounced. And it sparkled, like someone had glazed it over with flecks of glass.

Phfiiiiiiiit . . . The pressers wheezed to a stop again.

“I told you to keep them going, boys,” Grand warned Tim and Xanthus. They resumed their pressing.

“Mon was his name,” said Grand. “And the brother planets were bound literally one to another.”

Nick stepped around Grand for a better look. The planetary bodies were so close that the atmosphere fused together like Siamese twins. A massive rope crossed the atmospheres, tethering the two planets together.

“The tidal waves?” Daniel shook his head. “The gravitational force between the two would be enough to rip the surfaces apart.”

“And so it did, until the tether was constructed by Roch-umbria. It cast a spell over the planets, keeping peace among skies and tides.”

“Where’s Moon?” Haley unfolded her hands.

“Mon,” Nick said, knowing the answer before Haley asked the question. “Mon is the Moon.”

“Yes, Nikolas. Well done. Earth, in my time, is the barely inhabitable world. Except for the tethered realms, it is ice or wilderness. As fate would have it, Mon, your moon, is the rich, powerful planet of the brother worlds. Steeped in wonder and mystery, he is the cradle of all magical civilization.”

“Dude,” said Xanthus, lifting up his bestiary. “Totally makes sense! We have always looked to Moon as our source magic. Werewolves changed by it, farmers planted their seeds by it, mothers prayed they would give birth by it. Oh, and let us not forget the Greek goddess, Daphne—”

“Hey,” Haley said, “wanna be sedated? ‘Cause I will happily do it.”

“It’s my job to keep people informed.”

“And here—” Grand pointed to the middle of the largest land mass. “—is Huron, home. Your home, Nikolas and Tim.”

Nick and Tim looked at each other. They swapped the same expression: “Seriously. Is anyone buying this?”

Nick looked to Xanthus who furiously took notes in his bestiary while pumping the presser.

“In my time, the city of Huron is the seat of Mon. Huron’s magic makes her both the jewel and the envy of the brother worlds.

Before the city was built, the valley of Huron was discovered. Because of its rich magic, fierce civil war broke out among all the lings. Humling, creachling, bigling, midgling, faerling. They fought over rights for the valley and its magical properties. As a truce, Rah-Neron the Wise, decided to build the city of Huron. All races were given their own boroughs. It has become a metropolis, a melting pot, if you will, of Mon’s fantastic creatur—”

“Forgive me,” Daniel interrupted. “Aside from your more interesting rendition of Moon, we would find evidence of a previous civilization. It’s nothing more than a mass of iron and dust.”

“Yes. That was before the wars and the burning away of all Mon’s creatures. There is no evidence of a previous civilization because what you see in the sky, my friend, is a corpse, a ghost of a once powerful, magical world. Some dark force ripped off the skin between that time in history and today, and flung it away from Earth to become a satellite, instead of a brother. Even your scientists, Daniel, attest to the fact that Moon is the remnant of a larger, more Earth-like planet.”

“Yes, well . . .” Daniel seemed to be out of questions.

In fact, everyone fell silent, except for the whistling of the pressers.

Nick took a step closer to the stardust. “Home?”

Grand nodded. “That’s right, lad.”

“They’re all like you?” said Nick.

“Well . . . afraid there is no one like me in Huron. The citizens are more . . . civilized. But yes, I call them brethren.”

“Right,” Tim said in a slow, unbelieving tone. “Look. All I care about is Mom and Dad. If these are some type of mimes or clones or whatever scientists call them, where are my parents?”

“They’re home. Oxbar Estates, Manor Major, southeast of Huron.”

“No. I mean, really, Grand. I’m fourteen already. You don’t have to fabricate stories to make me feel better. Where are they really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Tim. As I said, the trackers hunted us throughout Huron Valley. I left them secured at Manor Major.”

Nick looked to the shriveling mimes. “So, they’re not my parents?”

“No,” Grand shook his head. “Surprised you never suspected. I did a poor job making them, and I’m not trying to be modest, either. The scuccas were close on our heels, and I had to cut the mime’s firing time short by ten minutes. Pulled them out of the kiln too fast, and they cooled immaturely.”

“That’s why they were so weird,” Nick said. “Always acted like they were cool, hip—one of us. They were basically teenagers.”

“Yes,” Grand nodded. “The mimes share your parent’s memories; that’s one of the first things you add to the brew. But their personalities were underdeveloped.”

Phfit. Phfit. Phfit . . .

“But we digress,” Grand clasped his hands behind his back, sighed, and looked the Lyons brothers dead in the face. “I am ashamed to admit it, but because I abandoned Huron to her own devices, she abandoned me. I am no longer her steward.” Grand’s bear-like finger rose to Nick. “You are Nikolas Lyons. She will speak to you now.”

“Speak?” said Nick. “Like, with words?”

“Yes,” Grand pursed his lips. “When the city of Huron was built many epochs ago, a strange thing occurred. A voice from the steward’s horn called to Rah-Neron. It was then the settlers learned that every city has a voice. You see, a city contains thousands, even millions, of citizens. If there is no voice, anarchy and death would reign. The voice of the city is a guiding light for all. But she doesn’t speak to just anyone. Huron will speak only to her steward, and you, Nikolas, are that steward.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tim laughed. “Steward? As in concerned for the well-being of other life forms?”

“Could there be any doubt?” said Grand.

“Ha,” Tim shook his head. “Yes. There could be.”

“He’s like me in so many ways,” said Grand, “if that be an indication of his care for the well-being of others.”

In his mind, Nick saw Grand fling an inocudrone across the room and lift up two bodies out of a casket.

Really not helping, Grand.

“Yes,” Grand said. “He is just like me, right down to name and place in the family order. The voice is passed down from grandfather to grandson. Always the youngest. You are the youngest, right?”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “By 28 minutes, though.”

“Always the youngest grandson,” said Grand. “And you are named Nikolas Lyons. Every Steward of Huron is given the name, so she might find him. I am Nikolas Lyons, the Eleventh.”

“Well, that’s a problem, then,” said Tim. “His name is Nick. It’s on the birth certificate.”

“Are you my translator, Tim?” said Nick. “Shut it, already. I can speak just fine.”

“It should be Nikolas,” said Grand. “Your father named you so before we came here. Anyway, that can be rectified. I will take you to the Hall of Pickings so that you might be given your true name.” Grand’s voice lowered. “It is to you the stewardship passes. And with it, the voice of Huron. She will speak only to you, Nikolas. For the Merrows’ sake, she must speak to you . . .” Grand’s brow sunk, but he snapped out of it and marched to the truck. He lifted the seat, revealing a dozen strange oddities.

“There you are.” Grand held a small copper box in both hands, with a cone-shaped tube pointing upward. Clutching the device, he moved back to Nick. “Ask her what she would have us do next.”

“It’s a gramophone,” said Daniel. “One of the first record players.”

“Yes. The gramophone was inspired by the steward’s horn.” Grand raised the device to Nick. “She speaks to her steward through the horn. Nikolas, please.”

“So.” Nick pulled his hands out of his back pockets. “What do you want me to do?”

“Rub your finger over the surface, like this.” Grand glided his fingers over the small rubber pad.

Nick slowly reached out with his index finger. Small bits of static leapt out to his finger as he pressed down. Then, just like Grand, he rubbed the pad in a circular motion. Garbled murmurs crept from the horn. Nick pressed harder with more speed. The murmurs shaped into voices, but fell away again.

“Try again,” Grand’s tone a little more determined.

Nick repeated the motion with more pressure and speed.

Nothing.

Grand raised the gramophone. “Troubling—it appears functional.”

“You don’t expect us to buy all thi—” said Tim.

“I don’t need that horn thing, anyway,” Nick cut Tim off. “She talks to me, in my—head.” He tried to stop that last word, but it got away from him.

“Pardon me?” Grand lowered the steward’s horn to his waist.

“Yeah. I, um,” Nick swallowed. “I can hear her—she talks to me in my head. Something about peril and intent and, you know, stuff.”

“That is unheard of, Nikolas,” Grand said. “Huron speaks to her steward only through the horn. She has never spoken directly to the steward.”

Nick looked around the forest clearing. You could cut the awkwardness with a chainsaw. Even Xanthus stopped taking notes.

“She doesn’t really, like, talk with me,” said Nick. “Just a sentence. Two sentences.”

Grand put the gramophone on the ground and stood full length. “Very well, Nikolas. What were her words to you?”

“Well, um . . .” Nick looked around. He could hear pressers still sucking up their cargo, but now offbeat. Each press seemed to meter out doubt from the onlookers.

“The—the Rones lie about their true intent. They enter the city of Huron at the peril of us all.”

“The Rones?” Grand raised both fists to his hips. “Are you sure, Nikolas?”

“Yeah,” said Nick. “Why?”

“That,” Grand said, “that would contradict our entire quest?”

“I don’t know. I can’t help it,” Nick’s tone grew defensive. “The voice just keeps saying the Rones are lying to everyone.”

“What’s a Rone?” Brandy leaned to Xanthus.

“Don’t know. I’ve never heard of them,” Xanthus said.

Grand’s green eyes investigated him. Nick could almost hear the unhinging of his own mind. Then, he raised his chin high. “I believe you, Nikolas. It will be a feat to convince the Council of Teine of your testimony, but not unheard of. Now—” Grand bent down and put the steward’s horn under his arm. “—will you come home? Will you arise and take your place among the clouds?”

Nick looked back at his grandfather. He stood like some giant among the planets. A dusty Jupiter clung to his shoulder, slowly falling apart among the folds of his trench coat.

Phffitt, phfitt. Phfitt . . .

Nick’s gaze turned toward Moon. According to Grand, it was the ghost of an ancient, magical planet called Mon. Maybe this would explain Nick’s obsession with the lunar colonies? Maybe Grand’s fantastic version of Moon had been home all along.

Or maybe Grand was completely insane.

Phfitt. Phfitt, phfitt . . .

Then again, a fairy tale world might not be so bad. Those Grimm fairy tale stories always seemed uncomplicated. You know, big bad wolf, three little pigs, make sure you build your house out of brick, kinda story. If that’s what life on the moon was really like, then that’s where he belonged, right? A simple life.

Nick smiled at that idea.

Phfitt. Phfitt, phfitt . . . Phfitt. Phfitt, phfitt . . .

“Yeah!” Nick shouted. “Yes. Yes. Let’s totally do that—let’s go to magical moons and bridge clouds and stuff. I’m in!”

Tim rolled his eyes.

Grand laughed. “Very good, Nikolas. Knew you’d be up for it. Now, we have very little time to lose. Must return your friends to the refugee camp and then make for the gateway.” Grand turned to the hovertruck.

Nick’s smile slid away. He looked back to the Kobayashi brothers and the Wendell sisters, and then down to the leashes scattered at their feet. Caroline’s readout blinked: Life expectancy: 17. Haley’s: 18. What would become of them after Nick and Tim zoomed off to some fantastic world?

“If I go, they go,” said Nick.

“What?” Grand stopped in midstride. “All of them?”

“We’re a package deal. I won’t leave them behind.”

“Our mission is far too dangerous, lad,” Grand said. “I cannot allow it.”

“You don’t know how they treat refugee kids,” Nick crossed his arms. “They’re tagged, Grand. A refugee can’t be more than fifteen miles away from the refugee camp before they’re shocked by leashes, like a dog. The farther away, the worse it gets.”

“Isn’t it for their safety?”

“Not even,” Nick’s voice rose. “The Geneva virus is out of control at the refugee camps. Most of the refugees die before they’re eighteen. BioFarms counts on it ‘cause they have a contract with the government. Cheaper to harvest organs than to grow them yourself. Leashes make sure the refugees don’t run away with their precious property. It’s not right, Grand.”

“I have seen darkness in my time, but this is unheard of,” Grand said. “Surely the U.S. government wouldn’t allow it. Its own citizens?”

Haley sneered, “BioFarms foots the bill, and the U.S. looks the other away. It’s considered bioethically responsible to pass your organs on, so a few fancy lawyers have their own souls removed, and then draft up the legal papers. BioFarms can leash us, brand us, chip us, or whatever else they feel is necessary to protect their assets.”

“They come with us,” said Nick.

“You’re serious, Nikolas. Aren’t you?” said Caroline.

“Yes. I am. This could be your home.” Nick turned back around to Grand. “Sorry, Grand, but we’re a package deal.”

Grand nodded slowly. “It is so. But their very lives are in your hands, Nikolas. You are responsible.”

“Yeah, of course,” Nick realized how non-committal that sounded. “I mean—yes—responsible—I’m responsible.”

“Nikolas? Responsible? OK. I’m done.” Tim stepped in between Grand and Nick. “When did everyone take a swan dive into the Kool-aid? I’m sorry, Grand. I’m sure you think we’re just kids who’d believe any crazy story about tethered worlds and cities that speak to stewards or something, but we don’t. The trackers are just genetic mutations. You’re using nano-technology for the dust. And you OD’d on some illegal substance playing World of Witches and Wizards.”

“Grand isn’t crazy.” Nick rounded on Tim. “He’s Grand. I believe him.”

“That’s a no-brainer. Of course you do. ‘Cause you’re like, the most naïve person on the planet. Grand is senile. Look around. Do you think anyone else believes Earth and Moon were lassoed together? By magic? Like some old bedtime story?”

“I do.” Caroline poked her hand up.

Xanthus straightened. “There’ll definitely be pain involved if someone tries to stop me.”

“Really?” Tim said. “Caroline? Xanthus? Really?”

“Did you see those things?” Brandy pointed toward Colorado City. “They ain’t from around here.”

“Where would we live?” Caroline said. “Do you rent your own house?”

“I own my own house. In fact, I own Oxbar Estates and all the property that resides therein. Over three hundred acres of land, just outside of Huron.”

“Does it have a dining room? Like in the old movies?”

“Yes. Five, to be exact. Six floors. And a kitchen the size of a tavern.”

“So—” Brandy waved her hand. “—are there balls and dances and stuff?”

“Coaches studded with diamonds driven by a flock of geese will escort you to the finest balls in the valley.”

Brandy grabbed Caroline’s hand, trying not to squeal herself into a cardiac arrest.

“I must warn you, though. Mon carries its own danger,” Grand said.

“It isn’t the danger—” Haley’s hand unconsciously moved over her naked wrist. “—It’s that we can’t protect ourselves from it.”

“You will be given the latitude and freedom that comes with youth at your age,” said Grand. “I will make you all wards of the House of Lyons.”

Haley turned to Brandy and Caroline. “Then, we’re going. At least, the Wendells are.”

“Come on,” said Tim. “Just like that? Daniel?”

Daniel shifted his cane. “Science could only profit from such a trip. Yes, I will go.”

“Wha—?” Tim looked shell-shocked. “Oh. I get it. You’re all under the Nick spell.”

“Excuse me?” Haley scrunched her face.

“Yeah. This has nothing to do with the Geneva virus or having your own room and fancy costume balls. You’re under Nick’s crazy ‘Let’s do whatever Nick says ‘cause he’s so cool, even if he says we should cover ourselves in gasoline and run into a burning building’ spell. Might I remind everyone that Nick’s ideas end in pain and death? Are you really going to follow him into crazy because you think he’s cool?”

Nick waited for someone to deny it, because “cool” would be the stupidest reason to take a risk like this.

All eyes moved away from Tim.

“The question isn’t to them,” said Grand. “The question is to you, Tim Lyons. Will you cross the tether with us? You do not have to go. I can set up an account here. You’ll never have to work again.”

Tim stared at his grandfather dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe the Earth and Moon were tethered together in some forgotten, mythical age. On the other hand . . .

Haley did.

What would Tim choose? Principles were important. Haley’s lips were soft and pink.

“Whatever,” Tim crumbled.

Grand handed the steward’s horn to Nick and collected the pressers. “All right. I’ve let nostalgia and bygones delay us. Now, to the gateway.”

“Like a food pantry,” Xanthus said. “Or, um, wardrobe?”

Grand stopped. “If it were only that easy.” He turned and pointed to the midnight sky, “The doorway is right . . . there.”

“In the clouds?” said Xanthus.

“No,” said Grand. “Beyond the clouds.”

“What . . . space?” said Tim. “Outer space?!”

“Yes. Afraid so, Tim.”

“Of course,” said Daniel. “The gateway is a pre-fabricated wormhole.”

“No,” Grand said. “Nothing so crude. A wormhole is a tear, a scar in the heavens. This is a passageway made by the hands of a craftsman. And this is the key. It is a chronostone.” Grand held up an obsidian stone. “Quickly, now. Colorado Spaceport’s west gate is shut down for remodeling. Work crew comes in the morning.”