Eternal Spring A Young Adult Short Story Collection (38 page)

My heart speeds up. My mind races. Will running like mad
give me a chance to get away? Or will it just make him kill me sooner? I think
of my mother and how cruel it will be for her to lose me after losing her
husband. I’m all she has now.

We touch down on a flat roof in the city. Even if I had
decided to try running away, I can’t do it. Because terror has frozen my limbs.
When the asag releases me I crouch in the corner, my head buried between my
knees. Call me a wimp; I don’t care. There’s no way I’m going to watch as this
demon creature tears me to pieces.

I wait for the first attack.

And I wait.

I hear people chattering and shouting in the distance. A
baying donkey. Wagon wheels crunching against a shard-covered street. The air
smells like a river, like fish, like foul city odors and warm cooking spices. I
lift my head and look around.

“How are you doing, Terry?”

“Jerrod! You’re here, too?”

“I followed, but lost you. But I see you easily found
another hero. I’m not surprised.”

I am
. I shift to sit cross-legged. “Did you see that asag? Don’t
ask me why it left me here. All I know is I don’t want to be here when it comes
back. We’ve got to figure out how to get out of this horrible place.”

Jerrod squats next to me, his arms dangling over his knees.
“I like this place, Terry. I’ll be staying here.”

“You can’t be serious.” I look around. A zillion sparkling
lights scatter like wildflowers across the clear, blue-black sky. The city
below answers with a sea of flickering lamps on rooftops and glowing torches
carried by people in the streets.

That’s when I see the ziggurat, a humongo stepped pyramid
with a seemingly endless stairway, and a glittering, purplish shrine at the
top. It looks spanking new, way different from the excavation photos of dusty
ruins I’d seen at Penn’s museum.

“Are we in Ur? As in the ancient city-state that existed a
couple thousand years before Rome even got started? The Sumerian city my Dad
had studied like forever?”

“Yes. And no. This is the Sometime version.”

“The what?

He stands, looks uncomfortable. “There are times and places
that don’t exist anywhere anymore except in the Sometime. Times and places that
are there but not there. It’s special, Terry. And more necessary to the
protection of your world than you know.”

Distracted by the glow in Jerrod’s face that makes him look
even more handsome than usual, I almost miss it. But then it hits me. “You’ve
been here before.”

He nods. “This is my home.”

I take on an accusing tone. “You tricked me into coming
here. You insisted I wear that seal. So it must have something to do with
transporting us.”

“It does.” That’s all he says. Not an ounce of guilt or
apology.

“Take me home right now.”

“I don’t have the power to do that.”

“Your power brought us here.”

“No, Terry, it was power surge from a source connected to
the bull lyre, but you directed it. You’re the one who can work that seal.”

“I have no idea—”

“Yes, you do. You just have to remember how.”

“Remember?”

“You have ancient records in your memory. You just have to
claim them.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and paced the roof, truly
pissed off at Jerrod now. “All your philosophy is very fine, but you had no
right to do this to me. Was it a joke?”

“Not at all. We need you here.”

“Me? Gimme a break.”

“I’ll let my aunt explain it to you. You’ll be living with
her.”

I stopped, my hands balled in fists. “No way. My mother is
all alone
in Philadelphia, and right now she’s probably
worried sick. I’ve got to get home.”

A girl’s soft voice cuts in. “Oh. Excuse me, Lord Ja-red.”

Lord what?

“It’s quite all right, Eanisa.” Jerrod says to a girl who is
climbing off the ladder that apparently leads from inside the house to the
roof. He gestures to me. “In fact, you two are the same age and might want to
be friends. This is Tiriqan.”

Why is Jerrod suddenly pronouncing my name the same way
Rigmai did?

He introduces Eanisa, who steps toward me. Her big-eyed face
belongs in a manga comic. Her whole demeanor is so sweet I can’t help but like
her.

“He adds, “Tiriqan’s going to be Lady Ningal’s new
chambermaid.”

In your dreams, buddy
.

“It’s so warm inside tonight,” Eanisa says, “I thought I’d
sleep here on the roof. Want to join me, Tiriqan?”

“Okay,” I say, realizing how exhausted I am.

As Eanisa sets up two sleeping mats, I pull Jerrod aside and
speak in a hushed voice. “How could you do this to me? I thought you were my
friend, Jerrod. I even foolishly thought you might want to be more than
friends.”

His dark eyes remorseful, his hand reaches out and cups my
cheek. I tell myself not to react, that my jelly knee is just fatigue.

“I’d like to be everything to you, Tiri. But I’m tainted.
That’s why they could risk sending me to fetch you. And if I hadn’t brought
you, the bull lyre would’ve carried you to her.”

“Her?”

 
“I don’t mean
to frighten you, but you’ll be safer if you stay here.”

I snort. “Safer here? Running from soldiers and flying
demons? No, thanks. I’d rather take my chances with Philly lowlife.”

Jerrod grips my shoulders. “Someone very evil is after you.
It’ll become clear in a few days and you’ll—”

“I won’t be here in a few days. I’ll find a way home.”

Disappointment clouds his face. His hands smooth over my
shoulders and down my arms, giving me chills. His fingers entwine in mine.
“Please don’t go yet. Now that you’re here your powers will begin to manifest,
but calling them up will attract demons.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t have any power when I got us
here. So I can get back the same way.”

“Tiri, it’s not like—”

“Why are you calling me Tee-ree?”

“Because your real name is Tiriqan. You are a descendant of
the royal Kiengir dragon line. And you’re the only one who can save it from
oblivion.”

I release his hands and step back. “I’ve had enough, Jerrod.
No more of this weird stuff, okay? I just want to go home.”

He watches me a moment, then says only, “Goodnight, Tiri.”

In the middle of the night I’m jarred awake by the mournful
bays of a dog or hyena or something. I sit up, soaked with sweat and breathing hard.
At first I think I’m having a nightmare, but then I remember the real
nightmare: I’m stuck in ancient Sumer. Or, according to Jerrod . . . Sometime.

Between moonlight and torchlight I notice people on
neighboring roofs rushing about frantically. The howls grow louder. Eanisa
jolts awake, her big eyes wide.

“What is that?” I ask.

“A namtar dog. A demon of the underworld gods. We have to
get inside the house.”

After my experience with the asag, I don’t hesitate. I bolt
for the ladder.

It happens so fast I almost miss it. Eanisa trips on her mat
and a flurry of dark wings and clacking teeth erupts behind me. I pivot. And
freeze.

Eanisa lies there pinned to the ground with the namtar dog
standing over her on all fours, ready for the kill. The oily black fur covering
its body emits a hideous stench. I hear Eanisa’s soft whimper and take a step
toward her. The creature turns its fanged, anteater snout to me.

Eanisa murmurs, “Move very slowly to the ladder, Tiri, and
it won’t chase you. Leave me. It will be satisfied with one life.”

“No!” I spring forward. With an eerie whine the creature
changes course and heads for me.

I sense a hum down my spine and the deep, thunderous chords
of the bull lyre ring in my ears. As the namtar charges me I rush toward it.
Lightning shoots from my palms. My mouth breathes fire. The demon dog bursts
into flames.

Foul smelling smoke fills the air. Eanisa stares at me open
mouthed. I drop into a crouch, strange sensations in my body. Odd prickling and
stretching and painful cramps. I’m thinking these may be power signs. Meaning I
might be able to work the seal before it dissipates.

I scurry to my shoulder bag, dig out the cylinder seal, and
fasten its silver chain around my neck. I loop my bag over my shoulder, close
my eyes and let the rumbling hum fill me.

Dizziness.

Heaviness.

Blackness.

I open my eyes to find myself on a narrow cot in an office
crowded with files and boxes. Ms. Cresley’s concerned face looks down at me.

“You had us all worried, Terry. Here. Drink this.” She hands
me a glass of apple juice.

“Am I in the museum?”

“Yes, dear. In my office.”

Hmm. So it’s still the same day here, even though a day
passed in Sometime. “Guess you found me near the bull lyre?”

“Yes, but we weren’t about to leave you lying in the middle
of the Mesopotamian collection. Someone might think you crawled out of the
Tombs of Ur.”

I laugh with Ms. Cresley, thinking this is closer to the
truth than she knows. I’m wondering how Jerrod handled this. Did he come back
with me?

I sit up. “I’m feeling pretty well now, Ms. Creslely. I
think I’ll head down to the gift shop.”

“No working today. You just say hello and go home to rest.
Ms. Rentiff will be closing up by now, anyway.”

Wait a sec. “Where’s Jerrod?”

“Who is Jerrod, dear?”

“The guy who runs the museum gift shop.”

“Ms. Rentiff manages the shop. There isn’t anyone named
Jerrod working here.”

“Yeah, Mom, I decided you were right. I’m gonna stay away
from all the stuff about me in that tea box of Dad’s.”

My mother smiled and gave me a quick hug. “Good decision,
sweetie.”

After dinner I go to my father’s study and sit in his old
recliner. I’m totally bummed over Jerrod. I’d started crushing on him something
fierce, even let myself hope he might become my boyfriend. Now I don’t even
know if he’s a real person.

Ms. Cresley doesn’t remember him. I asked a girl at school
about him and she didn’t know
who
I was talking about.
Am I such a mental case that I totally made him up?

And if he is real, that means I actually traveled to a time
and place that doesn’t exist anymore — except in Sometime.

Did I actually kill a demon? And kiss a Guti warrior? And
what about those stupid things Jerrod said? Like me being a descendant of a
royal dragon family.

But he also said:
I’d like to be everything to you, Tiri
.

I slam my fist against the arm of the chair. I feel like
crying, but instead just resolve to quit the museum job. I don’t ever want to
see that creepy bull lyre again or any of the things Jerrod and I looked at
together.

Yeah, right. Jerrod the phantom, who was probably some
desperate-for-a-boyfriend illusion I carried around that day. Boy, am I a mess.

Pushing out of the recliner, I go to my room and bring back
the silver chain, the cylinder seal, and the terracotta rectangle that holds its
impression. The tea box is still on the floor where I’d left it, next to papers
that scattered when it fell from the shelf three days ago.

I sit on my heels and begin piling papers into the box,
which is going back on the shelf to collect dust. I find the two manila
envelopes with my name on them and slide the seal and chain into one. As I put
the clay impression into the other I notice a white paper inside with what
looks like my dad’s handwriting on it.

I pull it out and read it.

Terry, my beloved daughter,

I am ill and will not be around when you are old enough to receive
this. The day I discovered you in the museum there was an engraved cylinder
seal hanging from your neck on a silver chain with an archaically designed
clasp. I took the seal before anyone else saw it, knowing if I gave it to the
authorities I might never see it again or have a chance to study it. I believed
then, and still do, that keeping it for you would somehow protect you.

I made sure the seal was not stolen property from any museum
collection. And based on the authenticity of its construction and language
style, I would rule out the possibility of it being a fake. Still, questions
remain.

The blue star birthmark on your left ankle was my reason for naming you
Terry – not Teresa or anything else. You’ll see why in my translation
below. I’ve made the syntax conform to our speech, but the content is the same.

I do not mean to upset you, but if this seal has bearing on your life
and origins, you should be aware of it. I will likely die before fully
deciphering its meaning, but I will continue to search for it until my last
day. I wish you were old enough for me to explain how important I believe this
to be. All I can do is pray to whatever gods there are that you will be safe
from harm. And hope that you will continue my search.

Richard Conn - Your loving father.

Seal translation:

This child is named Tiriqan. Her powers are many.

The gods have marked her left ankle with the star of Inanna

Blessed and cursed, she is the hunted one

Giant wings of darkness forever seek to find her and end her life

Floored, speechless, and rocked to the bottom of my soul, I
read the letter over and over, thinking about the things I saw, the things that
were said, and the things I learned when I was there in Sometime.

I slide the letter back into the envelope, tuck everything
into the tea box, and carry it to my room — where it will stay.