Chapter thirty-seven

And then I woke up.

I was not here yet, however, and I didn’t think that I was back in California. Sitting up, I noticed I was buried in the eiderdown of an enormous canopied bed. For some odd reason, I was clothed in a hideous purple nightgown, so I scavenged for some trousers and a shirt. I walked into a washroom adjacent to the bedchamber and scrubbed my face, trying to shake off the dreamy daze of the night before. The thoughts remained, consisting of magic and robots, as well as rock music and surfing. Then I looked down at my right arm.

That symbol of my brotherhood with Dion remained; my forearm was still bandaged.

I exited the room, running. I had panicked, thinking I was in a dream I could never arise from. Outside the room I discovered a short series of doors, much like the resilient doors found on a submarine. I was on another ship. All of it was coming together now: this was that dragon ship, and I hadn’t been dreaming – even though all of it was a dream in comparison to my real life – this was the future Zyrrk referred to; the future I was meant to see.

Then the moments lurched into high-speed, fast-forwarding like an old VHS cassette tape. I watched us drive the speedboat in great haste from the beachhead at Carthago to another island in that great, gorgeous sea. And there was another member of this crew that I hadn’t met yet. In the super-speedy movement of Zyrrk’s clairvoyant mind-movie, I didn’t even catch her name.

The most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on, she stood just shy of six-feet-tall. A brunette, with chiseled features, and a beautifully round body, this woman could have rivaled even the greatest of pin-up models. She stood confidently, and when she moved, she carried this inviting, all-encompassing sexuality; any man that should have her would think that she could give away her love only once, and only to him. Wars had been fought over women of such beauty. The spectacles that sat so naturally upon her face beckoned even the shyest of men to know her. The handgun she carried on her hip, coupled with the cutlass upon her back, however, amply prevented any one of them from ever embarrassing themselves in such a manner.

Ned was there, and there was Zyrrk. We flew through time to find an enormous tree, larger than any building or monument ever constructed by man, beyond the proportions that Nature ever exhibited herself. The great tree resembled the redwoods I had seen in Northern California, yet it had to be millions or even billions of times larger than that, and it was black as night. A couple of days had collapsed into a couple of seconds, and suddenly Zyrrk and I alone were ascending up that tree (that woman and Ned had vanished). It felt like more than a full summer to show me the next part of the vision, for we were climbing up a stairwell that circumscribed that gargantuan pine tree.

In the first year that passed, I grumbled a lot. I was not used to such a continuous struggle, climbing stairs endlessly into the sky. There was no end in sight to all of the switchbacks, and I had many thoughts of suicide. How easy it would have been to dive off into the oblivion below! Zyrrk spurred me onward, though.

In the second year that passed, there were still stairs and stairs and more stairs, but now they didn’t bother me much. I don’t recall anything else of note taking place for those twelve months, aside from how long my head of hair was.

In the third year that passed, my facial hair had finally grown long enough to be called a beard.

In the fourth year that passed, the curvature of the tree had made the journey much easier. We were now travelling not just upwards, but along the inclination of the arc of that great coniferous plant, and it finally felt as though we were approaching a destination.

In the fifth year that passed, I assumed that I had taken more than a million steps on this great pine alone, without ever touching the soil on the ground, my feet only touching the bark of that rare tree. Also in that year, I abandoned my holey shoes; luckily, Zyrrk had a spare pair of boots that fit me perfectly.

In the sixth year that passed, the curving tree made the hike less strenuous, but the climate was now treacherous. Zyrrk had fashioned me with a coat that appeared to be made of mammoth fur. The expansive ocean must have spread out below us, but there was no way to see it; there was only blackness beneath us.

In the seventh year that passed, I noticed how the tree grew so far into the firmament that the highest boughs had eventually succumbed to the power of gravity – far ahead of us, the treetop was reaching back toward the earth.

In the eighth year that passed, I was aware that we were not alone here in the sky. High up above us and to the South, a kingdom of bright lights and fire floated upon a cloud. Directly to our right and to the North, a one-hundred-armed, nation-sized, squid-like magenta phenomenon floated there, inspiring a good deal of awe within me. Zyrrk was pointing at these hovering continents and he was saying things, but we were moving too quickly through it all for me to understand him.

In the ninth year that passed, nothing happened.

Also in the tenth year that passed, nothing happened.

In the eleventh year that passed, I could finally see how the length of that great tree-trunk extended like an archway over the entirety of the ocean, which I could also see now. Zyrrk spoke to me all the time now; again, I could not interpret his words in the vision.

In the twelfth year that passed, he continued talking. I gleaned that our conversation had to do with our magical abilities, for my vision had afforded me a glimpse of my latent powers – I was now able to shoot fire from my fingertips.

In that final year that passed, the would-be apex of that curving tree revealed a grandiose ivory castle. By the time we reached her fair drawbridge, thirteen years of my life had gone by. I was at least middle-aged now; my youth sacrificed to the crest of that great tree.

Upon our arrival, we were rushed up through the great halls of the white tower, and into the presence of a Queen. Her skin was pearly white, and while she was beautiful, she wasn’t as pretty as that pirate chick. This woman was full-of-child and yet sickly, as though she were unready to give birth to the demon in her tummy. And yet she smiled upon me, as though she knew me, and briefly I remembered my spider. Could it be that this was the female embodiment of my lovely tarantula? Though I was infatuated with the other girl, I was certain that this woman held the consciousness of my Queen of Shadows.

The next part of the vision revealed little. It was only Zyrrk and me, and it lasted for years and years and years. My features had grown gaunt; my burgeoning powers augmenting with each passing moment. These were the training grounds where I would learn all the secrets of my craft, and I could tell that Zyrrk was proud of me.

Then the Queen had relocated herself for some reason, which I mourned so very briefly; in the time that passed, I had garnered a position of great power within the white castle, I was not unlike a vizier. Shortly thereafter, that woman-on-the-ship-that-I-was-obsessed-with returned, longing now to be with me, deep in the throes of passion. Zyrrk nodded unto me, and with a poof, he vanished as the Queen had. After about half-a-minute, the most beautiful woman in the world and I were married. We had many children, and the people of our great nation made us the ruling party, the new King and Queen.

Our subjects loved me. I wielded my army powerfully, for under my supervision they had defeated all the evildoers in all the land. Everyone bowed down to the great power my new Queen and I exhibited. We had replaced the former ruling party: It was as though the people saw Zyrrk when they looked at me, and they saw my Spider Queen when they looked at her. The world had admitted defeat unto our nation’s magnanimous visage, and there was nothing more to fear, ever.

But then the firestorm came. It lasted only a few minutes in my vision: the great tree was burning, apparently for the second time. All of my soldiers had turned from my command, and those that had magic were using it against me. I smote everyone I saw, destroying souls to the left and to the right of me, good and evil. I cared no longer for the sufferings of mankind, and I razed my own city-state to the ground. I forgot about my Queen, I forgot about my children, and I had forgotten about my past. I was not Lester or Chris, or anyone human really – I was the god of destruction.

Then he came walking up. Dion. He was dressed in robes now, just like me, fending off the few soldiers in his purview that were yet loyal to me. He looked weathered, now an old man (also like me), and he strode across the courtyard of my castle, un-panicked by the fire and death that surrounded him. And he carried no weapon. Though I no longer knew my own self, I still recognized him. Then he saw me and walked toward me, as though he had just noticed me across a crowded room and he was coming by offer his salutations.

Something within me started to summon a spell. A ball of fire had formed in my right hand; a part of my conscious mind desired to hurl it at Dion. The flame licked my palm, and I let it grow to the size of a basketball, making certain he would see it, even if only to warn him. He didn’t stop; he just stayed the course, walking toward me, sure of himself.

I could see him well enough through the haze now, and he could see my eyes too. I knew him to be a person of magic too; hadn’t he a spell at the ready to cast at me? It didn’t seem so. I squinted and saw his face – he was smiling. His bright white mouth shone blindingly as it did on that first day we met, and the thought of our miniscule adventure together made me smile, even if only a little. I would finish him off if he came any closer, though.

He stopped. Dion looked at the ball of fire in my hand, and looked me in the eye. He paused for so long, that I almost lost control of the spell. He waved at me. I could see the old scars on his right arm; then, looking down at my own fiery arm, I thought of our bloody ritual. The story of Cochise came to mind, albeit briefly. Then he started up the stairs that would lead him from the courtyard, to the dais where I stood. I was holding back everything, ready to blow him away at a moment’s notice. And then it happened.

Laughter came flowing in. It was just a giggle at first, a trickle of a giggle even. I couldn’t tell if he was the one who laughed first, but now we were both chuckling. Both of us were watching a reflection of ourselves in one another; we were laughing into a veritable carnival mirror, a reflection of which compounded our mirth exponentially. Any onlooker should’ve thought we were mad.

As he slowly climbed the staircase, we continued to laugh and laugh, and though I tried to hold onto the fireball, its power waned as he grew closer. When he had reached the final step, the spell had fizzled out. We were both laughing so hard that I forgot about the war and all of that death surrounding us – I forgot all about Zyrrk and his magic. Dion clasped me by the right hand and arm – the scarred one – and, like black people sometimes do, he wrapped his left arm around me, and I inadvertently read a human mind for the final time.

“I know that you didn’t mean to do all this, dude. I know you Lester, you’re a good guy. My blood-brother.”

I was laughing on the outside but just smiling on the inside – It was all finally over! – I could rest.

“You know it’s gonna be alright,” Dion sang.