Gjallarhorn: Word You

I remember him like a dream.
Like a faraway camaraderie; an intimacy untethered. Peering through the shimmering bars of our dimensionally gridlocked cages, I can see the tiny rivulets of sweat particles gathering atop the darkness of his head, threatening to pour down. The musky eddies of cerebral strain, swelling before the storm. Or maybe I can just feel it. We used to be connected once.
Didn’t we?
His brown eyes bore into mine relentlessly, almost as if he’s willing me to remember… Remember WHAT? Neither of us speak to each other anymore. My chest heaves with the quivering depth of uncharted exhaustion. The blood pounds in my ears, a weight tugs at my wrists. I look down.
Oh.
I’m imprisoned.
I catch sight of dull gray circlets around brown wrists.
Neon purple luminescence blinking ominously.
We’re imprisoned.
I remember him like a dream… and I… Mercenaries. Assassins. Bounty Hunters. Vigilantes for hire. They’d hunted me. No. Captured me. I’d hunted them. Killed them. No. Warned them. Dissolved their income; freed their slaves. Pawns. This game went beyond their understanding. I was a fugitive. No. Queen. No. Empress.
An Empress on the run.
Not anymore.
Bland, chalky cloth sheathed my body and his. A foul smell wafted between the diamond shaped peep holes embedded along the metal floor. It is strange, is it not? The instinct for a connection that one has no plausible impetus for. I can feel it. Not just the longing buried in the recesses of his spirit, but the mad titan of torrential energy banging for release within my own heart. What have we forgotten? Iris of sky and earth touch once more and I grow uneasy even as I grow more certain.
We were more than a dream.
The soft decompression of grav-boots on the cold jadium floor broke my reverie. Burly shoulders accoutered with tree trunk thick arms lurched into my periphery. Guard? Captor? The massive humanoid cruised measuredly down the hallway, glaring into our eyes as he sauntered past our cells. He reeked with the arrogant confidence of a man who had defeated a mighty foe and no longer feared retaliation.
Retaliation.
Scenes from my fractured past flashed across my consciousness like asteroids hurled from a warpstream.
Soldier. Empress. Royal families. Ignition of the Second Sun. Renegades. Defiance.
I blinked.
Defiance. Defiance. Defiance.
That wasn’t the right word. I didn’t know what word I was searching for, but I desperately knew it wasn’t that one. The stale air left a salty, stifling taste upon my lips.
Defiance. Defiance. Defiance.
I looked over at him again. Soldier. His head, crowned with midnight hair cropped in tight curls against his scalp, moved slightly. I blinked uncomprehendingly. He gestured again. A little more forcefully, but not enough to rouse the attention of a guard or trigger the motion inhibitors. The point of his chin, the insistence of his eyes… I looked to my left. Down.
A blue feather was threaded into my beach colored hair. I stared back at him. The jaw line that I felt like I knew better than genetic trace lines on my own hand. Hands. Strong, dark fingers had threaded that blue feather into my hair. A promise. But of what? A blue feather and… A necklace. Cold shards stabbed deep into my stomache as I felt the absence around my neck; another sanctity violated. Blue feather… Red feather? No. Red is life; Green is energy.
Flecks of dark green material housed deep in his thick hair, caught my attention now. I swallowed. My brain barely treading water, threatening to drown beneath the cresting weaves before I could take refuge upon the shore. If only I had my plasma pistol I could-
Defiance.
The false word cut into my rapidly clearing head. The more I focused elsewhere, the easier it seemed to be to think. Which means that- our memories are intact! Maybe a little foggy for now, but- intact. They only malfunctioned regarding one another. Meaning that someone had intentionally severed the cord between us. Had dug into the deepest parts of who we are, grimly shoveling out piles of our identity to uproot whatever treasure was concealed there. Whatever is missing isn’t an accident. It was stolen.
I gazed upon my Soldier… My soldier?… Sweat streamed down both of our faces as we struggled to remember something we’d never forgotten.
Defiance. Defiance. Defiance.
“A word,” I rasped. “They took a word.”
My Soldier shook his head fearfully, a warning for me to stop talking. I refused. My dry voice cracked, hoarse with whatever bio-chemicals they’d dosed us with plus too many hours of non-use.
“If they kill us, they kill us. But I will not die without a fight.”
My Soldier was quiet. Unmoving.
My frustration mounted. I was so close to, to SOMETHING.
I could feel it.
The cloth shrugged abrasively against my skin.
Stale air warring to make me gag.
The whirring of engines rattled my stomache.
“Word,” he murmured quietly.
That’s what I’d just said. What was he-
“Word. Is good.”
He was struggling. But he refused to take his eyes off of me, puncturing my stoic bubble with the electricity of his intent. I could feel his sincerity pouring off of him like an avalanche without rock bottom.
“I… word… you.”
My breath caught in my throat. I saw what he was doing. I saw that I could do it too. I don’t know what the word is- but I know how to use it.
“I… word you,” I whispered back.
Why are there tears in my eyes?
But his were spilling over too. My heart shifted, an extant surge of intangible flame, burning a path, and clearing the way to something still unseen. He said it again and I felt something in my soul crystallize; his breath seemed to be flowing a little easier. Lips curled slowly upward in a half smile I haven’t let free in I don’t know long. This isn’t the thing that was lost; but it would generate the power required. We will be okay. I knew that as surely as I knew my memories had been tampered with. We will always be okay. I looked directly into the eyes of my Soldier. Vulnerable. Hopeful. Sincere. Passionate?
“I word you.”
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Joshua Evans is a prolific writer and sci-fi/fantasy enthusiast who believes story is central to everything and that mythology can change the world. He currently hosts two youtube shows- The Truth About Superheroes and Comic of the Week. If you would like to further be a part of his cosmic psyche, you can join him on Twitter and Instagram (@comicsinspire) or simply subscribe to this story reel… and remember- sharing is caring! Cheers
