The Time Tower (the first visit)

Chapter 5

Pima came to and felt someone brush her hair back from her forehead. Her eyes flickered open. Neeman was crouched above her, looking warily over his shoulder, up the steps.

"Neeman...you can't be here. You can't climb the stairs with me."

"Apparently, I can. You're guiding the doors, I think. You're the one the Tower is attacking. Oh, Pima..." He sighed as he helped her into a sitting position. "Why are you always running into danger?"

"Me?" She accepted his hand as she stood and let him keep hold of it, enjoying the warmth that his presence emanated in this cold, narrow space. She glared at the closed doors and shuddered. That had been horrible. It can't be much worse than that. That had to be the most painful day of her life.

Pima nodded up the stairs, and without a word, Neeman slid an arm around her waist and turned her toward the next step. They climbed eight more steps before another door opened. Pima leaned back against Neeman and peered into the light that spilled out of the doorway.

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The trio was sitting beside a glowing fire pit in the wooded marsh not far from Neeman's house. The old camping spot had been turned into a base camp for his followers.

Pima sat beside her brother. She was only half listening as he and Neeman reminisced about "the good old days" and what they hoped would return when - if, she amended in her head - the Time Tower would be made to work in their favor.

Avir sat beside Neeman on Akish's other side. He offered a comment here and there but, for the most part, chose to listen. He had spent less and less time by Neeman's side as Akish spent more. If there was a hierarchy in the group, Pima would venture to say that he had been ousted as second in command by her brother, but he seemed to take it in good stride.

Neeman and Akish schemed well together, and Avir was more suited for lighter discussions and alleviating the others' occasional moods with his dark humor. His family had been considered well-off before the Time Tower was constructed. Both of his parents had been surgeons, she had learned, and so it made sense that he was able to acquire the best supplies for Neeman's cause. She did not think his spine thick enough for the front line, but she would not insult him by telling him to his face.

Neeman soon lost his reminiscing mood. Pima recognized his serious expression. Hush radiated outward until silence rang throughout the camp as all eyes turned to stare at his firelit features. He called for everyone to gather closer to discuss - once again - the latest version of "The Plan."

Starting with the treacherous journey across the northern half of Pavta, and then into the toxic marsh that surrounded the Tower, and ending with Akish's sacrifice. The plan as it had been conceived by these two young leaders - reckless, improbable, and...and hopeful.

The word sprang up in Pima's mind, like a new flower popping up out of watered earth. When the seed had first begun sprouting in the background of her thoughts, she didn't know. But she found herself nodding along as Neeman spoke about the world they could re-create, the lives they would be changing, the sacred, heroic nature of their mission.

"We are fighting for more than ourselves, our families, our land. We are fighting for more than our present. We are fighting for our past, our future, and our present. When this is over and the Tower falls - when it falls - we may not all rise. But the sun itself will rise to greet a new world.

"There will be lives to rebuild. There will be friends to bury. There will be wounds that refuse to heal. But every sacrifice will be worth it, and heal we must. For in one way or another, we will all leave here heroes and rise from the battlefield to a better life."

His eyes strayed to Pima's, searching, questioning, pleading.

"We must create it. Pain and sacrifice is a requirement to build our better world, and I have to ask you all again. Are you willing to risk all to our cause?"

Pima's throat swelled with tears, but she kept her teeth clenched as voices yelled affirmative all around her. She had never been one for flowery speeches, and she knew Neeman felt the same. But, oh, could he deliver when the time came.

She nodded once, her only sign of approval. The tension in Neeman's shoulders disappeared. He kept his body turned toward her, but his eyes swept over everyone gathered. He raised his hand in the air and clenched it into a fist.

"In just a few weeks' time, this will all be over. So raise your voices now, all together, and remind me why we fight. For we will always fight!"

Again, cheers rang out. Akish bounced up from his seat to embrace Neeman, calling him brother, and the others toasted the mission with the last of Neeman's wine, blood-red offerings held high.

They felt the sacrifice worth it. Success inevitable.

And for the first time, Pima found herself agreeing with the first and desperately praying for the second. To change the world. Change the past. Could they do it? Could he?

He would do it or die trying, with Akish by his side.

And she knew with a bone deep certainty that she would be there, too, at his side whatever end might come.

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Memory Neeman's words ringing in her ears, Pima turned to Neeman. She'd dropped his hand at some point. He stood with his arms outstretched as though waiting to catch her. Pima squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, daring her gaze back to the door. She felt the same constriction in her chest that she'd felt that night, sitting around the campfire, listening to Neeman's speech. It was such an odd, painful thing to see one's memories played out before you.

"Did you see?" she asked.

"Vaguely. As if through mist," was Neeman's hesitant reply. "Pima, listen. We could rebuild our lives. Go out there, find your brother, bury our friends. We don't need to use the Tower to do that. And start over. We can do that, all on our own. That's what I've wished for for so long. Maybe it's best to leave what we don't understand alone. Weren't you the one who told me that?"

She turned around slowly, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at Neeman, two steps below her. Had she imagined the warmth in his eyes that day? Or was it the warmth in his eyes as he held her on the stairs that seemed false now? The warmth of his hands in hers a moment ago?

"That night...that speech...that was the first time I really felt like this would work. Like it was worth the risk to come here. You made me feel valued and needed and brave."

The hairs on the back of Pima's arms tingled a warning. She stiffened her spine and clutched the key, which she still carried despite having passed out earlier, tighter until the cold metal bit into her hand.

"You knew then that I would stay by your side through this. I wouldn't leave you. But you left me, didn't you?" Her voice caught in a sob, but Neeman's face remained placid as he held out a hand to her.

"I'm right here, Pima. I—-"

"Neeman worried about me. About my size, my experience. He trained me and my brother to fight. He told me to stay close. But he never doubted my courage. He never told me to stay or go back or back down. And he never would."

"Pima..." There was a dangerous quality in his voice, and a little guilt. Like she had stumbled upon a secret that he'd intended to keep.

"So who are you? What are you?

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