Descent: Part Six

The discarded cane that I still held was so heavy as I stared at the fires that ringed the room. Around me, the other Saint Martha’s students muttered to each other, questioning where exactly they were and what all this had to do with the assignments. A few even asked what the assignments were, causing a ripple of quiet, near-panicked questions as they tried to figure out what we were even doing in the temple.

Mary left my side and stepped up to put her hand on Esther’s shoulder, asking her if everything was ok. The shorter girl was standing at the very edge of the crowd of students which was steadily growing closer together, eyes on the fires around them. I imagined it kind of like gravity, pulling the students together like space dust until we fused into a single entity. But that wasn’t possible, you couldn’t just combine a bunch of people into one like Voltron.

Nearly jumping out of her skin, Esther spun and grabbed Mary by the front of her shirt. I don’t know what she said, they were too far away and I was surrounded by worried, whispering students, but her hands were shaking in their death grip on Mary’s shirt. Moving slowly, with gentle fingers, Mary tried to grab Esther’s hands and pull them away, but the other girl jumped back and slammed her hands into her pockets.

She had elected to wear the beige Saint Martha’s trousers instead of the skirt that day, so she was lucky enough to have pockets to make that work.

I had been staring at her hands while she spoke to Mary, trying to see through the shaking if they were the same as Sasha’s had been. But what did that mean? I strained to remember, trying with rising desperation to see if the skin on the backs of her hands was something to be concerned about. Though, try as I might, I could not remember what exactly it was that I was looking for.

Around me, people were noticing the intense exchange and started to turn and gawk, but Mr. Sage called everyone’s attention, bringing Esther up short mid rant. He grinned at us, radiating confidence that drew me like a moth to a flame, he was our teacher, after all, if anyone had our best interests at heart, it was him.

But the cane in my hands was still so heavy, and with every step I took closer to Mr. Sage as he spoke, it dragged at me. I did not even know why I was holding the thing, surely I’d outgrown picking up sticks just for the sake of it, right? Glancing down at the walking stick, ready to drop it and forget I’d ever picked it up, the dog’s soulful face caught my attention.

Silver, I thought. Like, genuine silver, but worn by years, decades maybe of use. It also clawed at my memories, tearing through the haze and Mr. Sage’s soothing voice, trying to tell me something. But that was absurd, how could an inanimate object possibly be trying to tell me something.

Idly, my finger traced the head of the cane from snout to ears. Squinting, I put the tip on the ground, put my weight on the cane, and rubbed my thumb up and down one of the dog's finely crafted ears. Smoother than the other side, it had clearly seen a good deal of similar handling in its life. For some reason, the motion of my thumb caught my attention, drawing out… memories? What memories?

Mr. Sage finished whatever he was saying, I couldn’t recall even a single word, and turned to walk away. Leading us deeper into the temple. My classmates followed him, ducklings following their mother. Or maybe lemmings unsure of where else they could go.

Just as I lifted my foot to join the train, I truly noticed Mr. Sage for the first time. He was tall, but why should that be a surprise? He had always stood head and shoulders over any of the students except for the basketball prodigy from the next grade up. Broad shoulders and a full head of dark, wavy hair, he was… hot? That didn’t make sense; he was so... so what?

As I stood, rooted to the spot, Mary ambled back over and put her arm around my shoulders again. She was smiling, eyes slightly unfocused, and tried to pull me along after the herd of Saint Martha’s blazers that followed our confidently striding chaperone out of the room with all the fire. I resisted, using the cane to brace myself against the floor. Something important was happening, something was bubbling to the surface, if only I could focus enough to pluck it out of the swirling cocktail of thoughts.

During the previous summer, when I had had some fun with… what was his name again? That bothered me, suddenly bringing other things I could barely recall to the front. Where was Sasha? What was wrong with Esther’s hand? What was the name of that boy? Why was this cane so significant?

Looking down at me, Mary smiled absently. Her arm around my shoulders was comforting, but it felt wrong somehow. I stared up at her, face a mask of concentration as I tried to figure out what was missing. I could feel her warmth as she pressed close to me, the weight of her arm against me, and her blazer around my shoulders; I felt safe with her arm there, safe but still as though something important was missing.

“Come on,” she said, voice barely a whisper. “We’re going to miss the iceberg.”

Loud as that cannon from a previous field trip, my heartbeat thundered in my ears. Suddenly frantic, I tore my eyes away from Mary’s face, beautiful with tilted eyes and a flowing mass of tight black braids, and stared at the retreating back of Mr. Sage. The iceberg because he moved so slowly that we were always afraid we’d miss the good stuff. Mr. Sage, the…

Suddenly, I grabbed Mary’s face and pressed my lips against hers.

It was in her eyes that I saw the change, suddenly focused, confused, a little uneasy. Her arm locked around my shoulders, full of intent and desire, the way it had been at first. That was what had been missing, the arm had been there but for all the intentionality, it might as well not have been. Mary’s mind hadn’t been focused, I don’t think she was even 100% certain that she had been close to me.

Before she could ask any questions, before she could even process what I had done, I pushed the cane into her hands. She nearly dropped it, almost as though it burned her, but she kept her grip, powerful rugby player’s hands holding the ash stick so gently I was almost jealous. I almost regretted having to push her away so that I could force her to hold the walking stick, but it was necessary, I watched her face change as memories burned through her.

“What’s going on,” said a soft, gentle voice. It was deep, full of vigour, and almost completely new to my ears.

Turning, I saw Mr. Sage looming over us, the rest of the class filing through a large door behind him that I hadn't seen before.

I took an unconscious step back, all but putting Mary between us. He smiled at us, little marks on the sides of his nose showing where the pads of glasses he wasn’t wearing would go. In my mind’s eye, I put the cane back in his hands, watching his imaginary thumb idly rub the beagle’s ear just as I had done earlier, I fought the urge to vomit.

He was young. That wasn’t right. The man should have retired years ago, he could barely walk, his attention span had decayed to the point where he often forgot where he was in his own lectures. But that was not the person who stood before me. Green eyes flashing in the cold light from the surrounding fires, he smiled, showing more teeth than any human mouth should hold.

“Shame,” he said with a voice like wet gravel in a leather glove. “But I suppose it will have to do…”

Mary firmly stepped between us, cane held up in two hands like a sword. She squared her shoulders and waved it pathetically at the unmoved Mr. Sage. “What the fuck did you do with our teacher!?”

“Pity,” was his only response. “Such critical thinking put to waste, suddenly your grade on the last exam makes sense.”

He chuckled as Mary tried to swing at him. Sidestepping, he circled us slowly, just out of the cane’s reach. He didn’t move so much as he flowed from step to step, limbs moving lazily through the air, the way a jellyfish’s tendrils drifted in warm water.

“I guess the cane’s only fair.”

The fires went out.

-0-

"A Community Story [Challenge]" By Donna Fox (The whole inspiration for this entire series)

"Descent: A Community Story Challenge" by Yours Truly

"Descent (Part Two)" by Mackenzie Davis (who is amazing and everyone should read)

"Descent (Part Three)" by me

"Descent (Part Four)" by this guy right here.

"Descent (Part Five)" by some guy named Alex, seems cool.

"Descent (Part Seven)" by: is he still doing this? Yes, I am :)