Before the Sky Fell

[ 19 ] Doppelgänger

-19-

Doppelgänger

Whik opened his eyes to the cloudless sky. It hung over the cliff side like an expansive canvas, waiting for a brush of clouds or splatter of birds to dirty the background. For a moment he thought he was tucked safe and sound in his cabin, beneath a pile of pillows and furs, until the uneven surface of weathered rock stuck into his back.

I just want to be home. He ran his fingers along pebbles tucked into the rock's crevices. I want Charlotte to yell from the other room, telling me to bring more wood. I want to burn my hands on the stew pot that's full of delicious things I may never try again. I want to walk to the stable and see Lana, with her hooves beating against the dirt, angry with me for not coming sooner. He could almost smell her.

"He's awake!" John's oafish head loomed over Whik. "You look like shit."

Whik was still too groggy to reply, but when the haze of sleep lifted one thing was on his mind: Frankford's note. He stood from the cot and stretched his aching joints. His bandage was soiled through, so he carefully pried the cloth from his skin to examine the wound. His skin hurt to touch and his muscles felt stiff and sore.

"Malachi," Whik said. The wind barreled through the cliff side as if in response.

John lifted a finger and rubbed it along his beard. "Now how did I know that'd be the first thing out of your mouth? Why does his name come up all of the sudden?"

Whik wasn't sure how much trust he could put in the two companions he had just met. Frankford was clear in his message: tell no one. Yet could he have figured out that their destination lay across the valley without John's help? Perhaps Frankford put too much faith in me.

"Listen," John said, "Pelk and I are simple people. I haven't wandered away from my lonely cabin in weeks. Your business is your own. But when you bring up Malachi, the name of Hemonstalia's most infamous murderer, it arouses interest. That's all."

Whik pursed his lips. "That note was from an old friend, a teacher. Frankford Millstone of Tannuchi. He thinks the Lark invasion has something to do with Malachi. He thinks that Malachi wants to find an object, something that's here on the island." Whik thought back to the day he found the item in Frankford's basement, and how the circles and intricate designs begged to be touched. No wonder Malachi seeks it.

Pelk and John looked at Whik, their squinted eyes laced with curiosity. Whik grabbed the satchel from the ground. "He told me we had to go to the place you pointed at, the Tidesdale Pass. But he didn't just outright say it. He hinted at it in a poem I had to memorize as a child. He was always coming up with riddles and puzzles for me. But that means he only wanted me to know, and not easily at that. I think that's all I want to tell you for now."

John nodded. "Fair enough."

Now that John had received an answer, it was time for Whik to get his. "What do you know about Malachi?"

John leaned back and took a deep breath. "Back in Hemonstalia, more than a decade ago, there was a series of trials after the murder of seven people. This is news to no one. Most of the people were rumored to be members of a secret sect of thinkers, politicians, inventors, if you will." He squinted into the sun. "I wouldn't be surprised if this Frankford man you speak of was a member as well.

"They thrived on bringing in teachers with outlandish philosophies on all sorts of questions. What happens when we die? What happened before we were born? What is up there?" John pointed to the sky. "This is all hearsay of course, gathered only by rumors passed through the cities. You know Hemonstalians had a knack for talking, and teaching. Malachi was put on trial after someone found him over the corpse of a scientist. They said the victims had been tortured. That they had some information they were keeping secret."