TWENTY-TWO

Thomas whistled as he pulled The Book of Sorrows out of the box. In the two days since showing the book to Enrique, the cover had become spectacularly illuminated. The colors were rich and full, the creature so realistic it almost seemed alive. And hungry? Yes, that seemed like the right word. The thing looked out with narrowed eyes and a half-open mouth, as if contemplating a meal. The expression made Thomas uncomfortable.

He opened to the bookmark almost reluctantly. There were only a few pages left, not more than a single chapter, and the thought of returning the book made him so sad he almost closed and put it away. Almost. Instead, he took a breath and started reading.

A few minutes later, Thomas stared at the last handwritten sentence. The one-line postscript stared back. Caution, curious seeker, else thou shalt suffer likewise. He looked at the empty space on the back of the last page, hoping it had magically filled with a fresh set of words.

It hadn’t.

That was it. The end. Asharia destroyed, the crystals separated, and Isham killed by one of his own creations. The title of the book was right on-target. At least for Isham, the story had been full of sorrows. Thomas flipped back to the previous page to reread the ending.

Isham then taketh from hiding the three crystals and gathereth to himself the three scrolls whereon his story hast been writ. Upon the back of each scroll, he now draweth in secret, that each might possess instruction of which only he might know. The sons of Isham then return, and with them, the brave and strong of Asharia; yea, all they who might step forth into battle with the beast.

But Isham wisheth not that the warriors be sent unto the creature, for he hath seen in a vision how his dark creation mightest be undone. He calleth unto himself Esham, the eldest of his sons, and showeth to him the instruction writ in secret upon the first scroll. The dark crystal also he entrusteth unto him, and that sewn in a pouch of leather, that Esham might not look upon the crystal and find temptation therein.

Thus, instructed in all he must do, Esham selecteth three warriors and gathereth the wives and children thereof, that all might go in secret to the place where the crystal must be hid. There also shall they remain; they and their children, and their children’s children, until the end of time; for they shalt be guardians of the crystal, that no man mightest unite the three and awaken again the terrible power thereof.

Like instruction Isham giveth unto Issam, and also unto Alai; and lo, they take also unto themselves three warriors each, and the wives and children thereof, and depart unto far corners, each bearing a crystal hid in leather.

When all has been accomplished, Isham riseth to his feet, for the sun also rises. Sorrow filleth the heart of Isham, and fear also, for he knoweth what must be done. Yea, the great scorpion dost stir, and the sounds thereof resound through all Asharia. Yet without pause, he proceedeth to the place where the creature now stirs, that he might meet his dark creation.

The ground trembleth beneath the feet of Isham, and great claws carry the beast closer with each scuttling step. In the eye of his mind, Isham seeth the creature; mighty pincers slash the air, whilst the ponderous stinger riseth into the softening sky. The storyteller knoweth what must come but shrinketh not from his fate.

Silence descendeth upon Asharia, swift as the stinger’s strike. And behold! on the very earth where Isham spake wondrous words, his body doth lie, and upon the selfsame earth lieth also the form of a great beast, the body thereof fashioned of fine ash and sand, for like unto Isham, the creature hath returned to the dust from which he was fashioned.

* * *

Caution, curious seeker, else thou shalt suffer likewise.

The postscript stood alone, poking at Thomas like a needle. He had always wanted power like Isham’s, but the seeds of doubt had been sown. What would he do if he were given the opportunity to achieve extraordinary abilities? Would he be willing to risk blindness? Death? Or infinitely worse, the possibility of hurting the people he loved? What if he wasn’t capable of mastering the gift? What if, like Isham, he gained power but lost control?

He flipped the book shut and set it in the wooden box. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, stray beams lighting up the nearly glowing cover. Huxley’s voice spoke from a memory. The moment you finish reading the book, please bring it back. Thomas sighed. The little man had said that, or something like it, and he had agreed.

A sudden buzzing cut through the quiet. Thomas jumped up from his bed. The buzzing paused, then started again. The air whooshed out of his lungs. He half-laughed as the cell phone vibrated again. He pulled it out of his backpack and looked at the tiny display.

“Enrique! What’s happening?”

“Not much. What about you?”

“I was just getting ready to run downtown and take back the book I showed you. Wanna come with me?”

“Not unless you can wait a couple hours. Aunt Tanya and Uncle Marco are about to leave, and then I’ve got to help clean up. My mom won’t let anyone go anywhere until our house is spotless. I’ll be lucky if we finish before dark.”

“That’s a bust. Can you hang out after?”

“Yeah, probably. Depends when we finish cleaning.” Enrique paused. “Hey, I didn’t get a chance to ask yesterday. Has anything else happened? Anything weird?”

Thomas thought about the man in the olive overcoat and the bizarre attack on his bike ride home. “Weirder than I can possibly describe. Come over when you’re done cleaning up and I’ll tell you about it.”

“All right. And just so you know, I’m still down to build the Iron Man suit. I’m pretty sure we’re going to want one of those no matter what.”

Thomas laughed. “For sure.”

A voice yelled in the background. Mrs. Rodriguez.

“What? All right, Mom, I’ll be right down!” called Enrique. Thomas winced. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. Cleanup patrol.”

“No worries. I’ll see you later then, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

“Good,” said Thomas. “Try to hurry.”