Dream Drive Ch. 05

Jackson looked away. "You're a good person, Shaka."

"So are you."

"If you heard what I said last night, then –"

"Be silent." Shaka waved a hand dismissively. "As a spirit guide, I have decided to make my own judgments about the character of those I choose to shelter, rather than trust the wild thoughts of passion-filled young men."

"My thoughts aren't..." Jackson made a face. "...wild."

"You are in a time of growth and change," Shaka said. "It is only natural to have doubts. Doubts are healthy; they stop you from doing stupid things. But doubts also deeply color your opinion of yourself. You should know better than anyone not to take the word of an overly self-conscious young man at face value."

"So, what you're telling me," Jackson said, "is that I can't judge myself to be a piece of shit, because I'm a piece of shit?"

Shaka fixed him with a gaze that made Jackson want to crawl under a rock. "Do not speak to me with a foul tongue, boy."

"...sorry."

Shaka nodded, accepting the apology. "And don't put words in my mouth. What I'm telling you is that constantly living from the inside-out will only cause you grief. It is important to seek balance in the inner world, but that itself must be balanced with the outer world."

"I thought you didn't have any comments."

"None on your talk with Chaki, no," she said. "We are having a conversation about you."

"So...um..." Jackson tapped the sides of his legs with his fingers. "What did you think about that, anyway?"

"It was a talk you two needed to have."

"...that's it?"

"Ah," she said, "you seek the comments you so quickly declared you did not wish to hear."

"I never said I didn't want to hear them."

"You did not say it," she said, "but you said it."

"What does that mean?"

Shaka sighed. "Despite my advancing age, I am neither blind nor deaf. I can hear the tone of your voice. Your mood is written by the way you speak and move, not the words you use."

Jackson looked down at himself as if, by doing so, he could see his own body language. His feet stepped across the grass in rhythm. He glanced back to her. "Most people tell me I'm not expressive."

"That's what they tell me, too."

Jackson smiled. He liked the idea that they were similar. "I didn't know."

"Will you still marry her, once we reach the mountain?" Shaka asked.

"...I don't know. Not right away."

"I see," Shaka said. "You should be sure to make that clear to her. It is acceptable to extend the terms of your promise, if you feel hesitation. Marriage should not be a forced thing."

"Cool."

"How is it cold?"

"Uh...that's an expression," Jackson said. "Something that's cool is good."

"What an odd manner of speaking. Why would ideas be compared to the temperature?"

Jackson shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't make it up."

"I suppose not."

"Hey, something I wanted to ask you."

"Ask."

"I haven't actually seen Hanta yet," Jackson said, "but I busted his bow while I was fighting the rattok. Is there some way I could replace it, or make it up to him?"

"Hmm." Shaka rubbed her chin. "Unfortunate. You might help him hunt, and allow him to take your share of the game until he is satisfied. Otherwise, a gift that surpasses the value of what you ruined would be appropriate."

"How about an essence crystal?"

Shaka slowly looked at him. "You have another?"

"Two, actually."

"Keep them safe," she said.

"They're in my pocket right now. They aren't going anywhere."

Shaka nodded. "No, they aren't. I sewed those pockets. Now then – we can use that crystal. Only those with magical talent can charge and drain essence from these." She indicated the uncut rubies dangling from around her neck. "But anyone can use an essence crystal. They are less refined, yet more accessible. They can't be recharged, but it's a valuable property nonetheless. I will enchant a spiritual shield for Hanta, and we can use the crystal to power it."

"Is that common?"

"I often make such shields," she said. "They are needed for vision quests, and are often taken by warriors to battle as a symbol to protect their spirits against the hatred of enemy combatants. It is very rare that I imbue them with a crystal; I can count the times I have done it on one hand."

"What's the point of enchanting it with runes if someone can't use the magic without a crystal?"

"Symbolism is important, Jackson," she said. "Faith, belief – these things can protect in ways that magic cannot."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

"This shield will be still more useful - it will deflect evils both physical and spiritual. That will more than repay your debt."

"Thank you, Shaka. You're really going out of your way for this."

"I won't have a guest of mine land himself in trouble," Shaka said. She smacked his shoulder. "That said, you ought to be more responsible with other people's possessions. Hanta used that bow for many years with great success."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to Hanta."

"Yes, Shaka."

"That is what I wanted to hear. Now, we have work to do."

"We do?"

"Runes, of course."

"Uh..." Jackson glanced back over his shoulder. A column of dust churned by hundreds of feet and thousands of hooves rose into the blue sky behind them. "I can't just log out here."

"We will review what you have learned so far," she said.

Jackson chewed on his lip a bit. "I haven't really worked on it much. I've just been storing them away."

"And what good does that do you?" Shaka asked. "You need to be able to draw them at a moment's notice. Not every situation will give you the luxury of vanishing into the nether and crawling through them like a slug. I thought your experience in the ruins made this clear."

"Well, yeah. You're right. But –"

Suddenly, there was a wooden cane in Shaka's hand. Where had she gotten that? "Draw the symbol for storm."

"Now?"

"I'm not getting any younger," Shaka said.

Jackson thought hard. It was the rune for lightning, which was easy enough, combined with another shape.

He did his best to recreate it. A shimmering grey line trailed his finger, lagging behind his attentions. It floated in front of him, moving as he walked forward. That was interesting. He seemed to be able to either keep the runes floating near him, or leave them where he drew them, depending on -

"Wrong," Shaka said. A sharp smack whipped the air as the wooden cane struck his wrist.

Jackson winced and drew his hand back. "What the hell?! That hurt!"

"Every time you get a rune wrong, someone dies," Shaka said. "That is what you should be thinking." She drew the correct symbol for storm, and then released her essence, causing the rune to vanish. "Now, do bison."

"Uh...umm..."

Jackson ended up with a sort of four-legged squiggle. His wrist was rapped on again, right on the bone. He cringed away from her.

"Wrong. Like this."

"...I almost had it."

Jackson was still protecting his hand, but that didn't stop her from landing a thumping blow on his side. He grimaced and rubbed his waist. "Almost," she said, "will get someone killed. Magic does not grade your performance. Wrong is wrong. Draw it correctly, and then draw the rune for animal."

Jackson accumulated painful welts at an alarming rate. For some reason, slaps and strikes that weren't immediately life-threatening hurt more than horrible flesh wounds. She was hitting hard enough to take his HP down a sliver. At least he regenerated the health back faster than she was knocking it down.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong!" Shaka said. Jackson shielded himself from a barrage from the wooden cane. "Weren't you paying any attention at all? What a stupid husband Chaki will have."

"You gave me hundreds of runes!" Jackson protested. "How was I supposed to memorize all of them?"

"That isn't my problem," she said. "It's yours. You shouldn't have taken them on if you weren't prepared to embed them in your heart. If you want to save your hands, you had better start to use your brain. Until then, I will beat your offending digits until they are so swollen they can't draw the runes that you so clearly do not deserve! Now! Draw a tree, and get it right!"

That one Jackson remembered, and for a minute, he was spared the cane.

He got the next one wrong. Shaka showed no mercy.

Their lessons were a painful experience. But for some reason – even though his wrists and hands stung like crazy – by the time they were finished, Jackson found himself smiling.

They passed two days on the road.

By day, Jackson recited runes with Shaka, and at night, he logged off and crammed them into his files. Each daily visit to his computer was greeted by a flood of notifications, alerts, unread emails, blog updates, hardware tech, new game releases, and the headline stories of current events.

Jackson ignored it all. For the time being, Earth consisted only of his computer and his room, a functional space designed to assist his endeavors in Isis. There was nothing he missed in the real world, nothing he pined for. He definitely wanted to get his hands on the new P-Cop full-fiberoptic channeling boards that promised to increase his CPU speed, but that could wait. He was learning magic.

In-between getting his hands bruised by Shaka's cane, Jackson walked with Chaki on the road. They talked. And they talked. And then they talked some more.

Jackson never realized how much there was to say until he met someone who lived an entirely different life. For Chaki, the ideas of quarks, electrons, and atoms were alien. The fundamental forces of nature were freakish outgrowths of interacting invisible particles that may or may not have existed. She accepted gravity easily enough – she could test that by dropping something on the ground – and Jackson suspected she liked the idea that everything pulled together. The electromagnetic and nuclear forces, however, were going to take some doing.

In turn, Chaki told him about the spirits of the land, the legends of her people. Her own race was frankly termed the People-Under-The-Mountain; their spirits were named just as literally. There were creatures in the earth: the Holder-of-Rocks, the Weaver-of-Rivers, the Creekling, and the Grass-Giver. There were many flighty sky spirits: the mighty Thunder Hawk, the Rain-Wringer, and the Dust-Runner, which together created storms; another was the Wind-That-Brings-The-Cold, the entity responsible for winter. And there was his namesake, too, the White Bison, Tatanka Ska, a representation of the link between the People and Mother Earth.

The One-Above-The-Sky was the creator of the world, and husband of Mother Earth. Just below him was the Sun, guardian of the skies, and then Shakhan, who was the child of the Earth and the Above, and the gatekeeper of the Beneath. Shakhan Herself gave birth to the angels by mating with the Sun, and the angels, in turn created the spirits. However, Mother Earth alone granted life to mankind.

Spirits and angels had free will; some served the One-Above or Shakhan. A few particular spirits, like the White Bison, were sacred, and often worshipped in order to seek out their blessing. Others, like the Wind-That-Brings-The-Cold, were neither good nor bad, but simply existed in rhythm with Mother Earth.

Angels and spirits which had turned against mankind – for perceived insult or of their own fault – were called demons. Among them were Blights-Of-Life, Bringers-Of-Fever, and Black-Death-Walkers.

Her world was a strange place – fantastic in its stories, random at times. Most of their legends involved chance encounters with powerful spirits, and the resulting effects on the People, as well as their relationship with Shakhan, the One-Above, and Mother Earth. Some stories related struggles between brave warriors and demons that came to strike down tribes.

Jackson was particularly fascinated by the Death Walkers. They were beings of immense strength that could only be defeated when a spirit guide used her magic to enhance the abilities of a warrior. They were described as hulking, erratic things, more insectoid than human.

Jackson compared her stories to the three major religions on Earth – Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. They both saw the similarities; her stories shared the idea of angels and demons, as well as a sort of primary creator, though her own beliefs deviated the most.

They were walking in the center of the train of the Windseekers. Packed sleds and dragged tipis crowded around them; most walked with their horses. Palla led his family's small herd with Smallgrass at the head. Shaka and Landri lingered nearby; they were talking with another woman, a tall lady that reminded Jackson of Malaki. Maybe it was her mother.

He watched the ground at his feet. By the time they reached it, the grass was already pummeled to the ground by the people and horses up front. The prairie was hardy, though. The tribe passed up and down along this creek many times over the season, following the bison. The grass always grew back within a week, and even faster after rain.

Their conversation about gods and spirits wound down. They were quiet for a time.

Eventually, Chaki spoke. "You told me many of your world's legends, but you people are divided up amongst them. Which of them do you believe in?"

Jackson shrugged. "I'm not really affiliated. I mean, it's like you said. They're pretty much the same when you get down to the bare bones. Worship the creator, do good deeds, don't be a jerk. If you're good, you're rewarded when you die. If you're bad, you're punished."

"Hold a moment," she said. "Even if they are all related, surely you accept some form of the story. Doesn't one stand out to you?"

"My family never went to church."

"Church?"

"Churches are special buildings where Christians worship," Jackson said. "The religions all have buildings like that."

"A building for worship?" Chaki started laughing. "Mother Earth is everywhere. The Sun is always in the sky; the One-Above is always with us. You don't need to go anywhere to worship."

"Well, it was a gathering place for people to conduct the ceremonies they thought were important. I mean, we're all going to the mountain for the Meet, right?"

"That is because the tribes gather to interact, and the spirit guides need to go to where Shakhan lives."

"Well, it's like that," Jackson said. "Churches are symbols. People feel closer to God when they're there. It's like a shelter from the world."

"You sound like you know an awful lot about it for someone that isn't affiliated."

"I'm just trying to explain the mindset."

"Ah," Chaki said, "I have it. You believe in something else - your science. Atoms, and electrons."

"I don't have to believe in reality," Jackson said. "It's just there."

"So is the sun."

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "The sun is a massive fusion reactor. Atoms collide and form larger atoms, which releases energy. That energy reaches us as light and heat."

"Always circling back to your atoms," she said.

"I'd rather trust things that can be measured than invisible water spirits," Jackson said. "Clouds condense from moisture in the air. Water falls when that moisture reaches a saturation point. It gathers in low places and flows downhill. That's all rivers are."

Chaki nodded sagely. "Oh, yes, I see now. Do your atoms make up the soul, as well?"

"...I don't know," Jackson said. "If they do, we haven't proved it yet. We haven't proved there is a soul at all."

"What do you think essence is, Jackson? How can magic work if you have no soul with which to forge your runes?"

Jackson had no answer to that.

Chaki's eyes glinted. "I've backed you into a corner."

"Well, magic doesn't exist on Earth," he said. "But..."

But maybe it did. Emil Mohammed had found some, apparently – enough to create Isis. What the hell was that guy thinking, anyway? Sending out Isis chips to winners in the competition?

"But it does," Chaki said, "or you wouldn't be here in the first place. Isn't that right?"

"I didn't give you permission to read my mind."

Chaki looked smug. "Perhaps the One-Above, or God, or whatever he is to be called, is responsible for both your atoms and the power of the spirit. Have you considered that?"

"They don't have to be mutually exclusive," Jackson said, "but the burden of proof is on the claimant."

"Then prove atoms exist."

"I don't have the equipment to do that," Jackson said. "They're so small, so fundamental, that you can't see them with the naked eye. Their properties as molecules can be observed indirectly through chemical reactions of particular substances, and you can observe them directly with a strong enough microscope."

"A microscope is a tool used to see atoms, then?"

Jackson tried to think of a way to explain a microscope to a person that had hunted bison all their life. Every idea that crossed his mind had five other things that required explaining, which all themselves needed explaining. He settled on keeping it simple. "Yes. It's a tool to see very small things. Powerful microscopes can see atoms."

"Aren't microscopes themselves made from atoms?"

"Well, yeah. Everything is."

"Doesn't that seem like cheating?" she asked. "Using atoms, which you haven't proved exist, to see if there are atoms?"

"What else are we supposed to use?"

"Magic," Chaki said.

Jackson opened his mouth to protest, then stopped when he saw the amused look on Chaki's face. "Oh, har-har, very funny."

"You're so easy to tease."

"I'm a man of fine-tuned precision," Jackson said. "Small bumps can throw me off more than earthquakes."

"Maybe you take yourself a little too seriously."

"You dare question the chosen warrior of Shakhan?" Jackson said.

"The faithless wonder suddenly professes his belief in the guardian of the Beneath," Chaki said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Someone's getting uppity."

"Maybe you need to teach me a lesson."

Their eyes met. Chaki wore a tight smile.

He felt their bond flash. He was learning to ignore it when he didn't need it; he didn't want to be in Chaki's head all the time. It tended to prod him when a strong mood struck her.

Right now, she was smoldering like little red coals at the bottom of a fire.

"...maybe," Jackson said.

"Is that all?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I think you know," Chaki said. "I'm a smart girl, right? You said you knew what sort of words smart girls liked."

"I do."

"I'm not hearing any."

Jackson glanced to where the ladies were talking; they were engaged in their conversation. Palla was riding Smallgrass, fiddling with leather straps, trying to get something out of a pack. He looked back at Chaki. "There's something more serious I wanted to mention to you."

Chaki's coals faded slightly. "Alright. Go ahead."

"About our...marriage," Jackson said. "I don't –"

"Stop." Chaki had raised a hand. "Stop there."

"This is something I have to say, Chaki."

"Wait until we reach the mountain," she said. "If you mean to delay things, make a decision then."

"Why?"

"I want to see your world, first," she said. "I want to experience that with you. Tonight, if that's fine."

Jackson rolled his shoulders. "I was thinking of doing it tonight, anyway."

"...I haven't been sleeping well," Chaki said. "I've been feeling all wrung-out, but I'm not tired. It's the strangest thing. I thought a trip to your world might help - something to exhaust me."

Jackson didn't like the idea that she was stressed, but that sounded less like a mild case of insomnia and more like what had happened to him. "I told you Shakhan took my need to sleep, right?"

"You did." Chaki's expression shifted as she put it together. "You think it's affecting me?"

"It might, through our bond," Jackson said.