Writing Shift

The Magazine of Speculative Fiction

Like a Dragon rising out of the depths, the Shrine of Saint Lapius loomed large and forbidding beyond the Quarantine Shield. Mariana clutched her skiff pole tightly, her heart pounding. Even on a sunny day with the sea becalmed, the Shrine was an ominous sight.

The holy place appeared as a shell of twisted metal scarring the seascape, half-submerged, only a short swim offshore...beckoning.. Gullins circled overhead, many roosting in the rusted interior.

Mariana’s skiff rocked gently as she poled against the outflowing current to slow her small craft. She had arrived at God’s Teeth, the point of land where the river emptied into the sea and formed a rocky spit leading to the Shrine.

And, there, on the halfway point of the spit at the edge of the Shield lay her destination—the Offering Site.

The Church Chronicles recited by the scribes of Mariana's village told of Splashdown and its aftermath—the Ancestors struggling to escape some unearthly danger to build a new life. The Quarantine Shield kept all of those who had survived that legendary moment, and their descendants, at a respectful distance from the Shrine.

But Mariana had lost her husband and parents to the plague that beset her village. She would brave even this if it would save Bobby!

She poled to shore, then quickly and expertly tied her skiff to the rocks. Working her way aft, she knelt beside the small figure huddled beneath the rear tenting.

"Muh?" a soft voice whispered from within enveloping blankets. "Are...are we there? Are we at the Shrine?"

Mariana ran her hand through her son's brown hair, feeling the misery of his trembling, suffering body. "Aye, Bobby," she said softly, tears welling in her eyes. "We are."

A weak smile formed on Bobby's pale face. "Will...will Saint Lapius help me now? Will she take the sickness away?"

Mariana bit her lip, choking back her grief as she voiced what she hoped and prayed would be the truth. "She will, babes. I'll make the entreaty and the offering."

But Bobby had mercifully slipped back into sleep, the river journey from Mariana's village having taken its toll on his already weakened state. She took a deep breath and gently picked up her son, cradling him like a baby (though he was in his ninth cycle) as she maneuvered them both onto the spit.

She approached the Quarantine Shield—the invisible barrier surrounding the Shrine that prevented any human from passing the halfway point of God's Teeth by sea or land. What magic had created such a wonder? The answers given by the scribes never seemed to quell Mariana’s burning desire to know. There was so much in the Church Chronicles she didn’t understand!

She picked her way among the other gifts left here at the Offering Site over the seasons—clothing, jewelry, hand-thrown pots, bird bones, candles, drawings—and carefully lay Bobby down in front of her. Slowly and reverently, she unsheathed the ceremonial knife her grandfather had bequeathed her before passing through the Veil.

Mariana shivered, despite the heat. The shorts and T-shirt she wore weren't made for a chill from without or within. There is no blessed Saint! she thought in anguish. I’ve seen too much death and sickness to think otherwise. No holy being would let children suffer so.

Nevertheless, she held the knife in both outstretched hands, desperate now, not wanting to give up. She must do something, for Bobby's sake! “Saint Lapius,” she called to the Shrine, her head bowed. “Hear my entreaty. Accept this ceremonial knife as my offering. I beseech you, not for myself but for my son. I....”

She broke at last, dropping to her knees. The knife clattered against the rocks. It was hopeless, she knew that. She'd always known it. “Oh, Bobby,” she wailed as tears fell from her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I've failed you. I....” She stood up then, anger etched over her thin, sun-browned face. “Take me, you false god!” she cried, shaking her fists at the Shrine. “Take me instead of Bobby! He’s just a boy. He doesn’t deserve to suffer so!”

At that moment, as if in one of the village plays put on by the Ghost Mummers, the invisible space of the Barrier shimmered. Dancing jewels of light sparkled for a moment’s breath and vanished like dying fireflies. A thrumming sound pierced the air. Mariana gasped as a blast of cool air from the direction of the Shrine rocked her back a step.

A figure stepped out of a huge, yawning rip in the body of the Shrine, a figure strange and impossible. Mariana stared open-mouthed at the creature that shambled toward her and Bobby. Falling to the rocks, she scrabbled wildly for the fallen knife.

“Dektoor,” the creature intoned in a crooning voice, its face twisted into a mockery of a smile. Its eyes, large and liquid-seeming, stared intently.

Mariana crouched protectively over her son, shielding him with her own trembling body. The creature knelt in front of them, its tall, ropy body the color of the sea, clothed in a belted, short tunic. Long locks of thick, bluish hair fell about a face not quite human. It turned its rigid gaze to Bobby and then back again, tapped its chest and spoke a second time in a sweet, melodic voice—“Dektoor.”

It pointed to Bobby and held out both of its monstrous hands.

“No!” Mariana screamed, pulling Bobby back against her as she tried to get to her feet. “Stay away, you demon thing! Don't...oh!” She fell backward as her bare feet slipped on the wet rocks....

Mariana jerked awake with a gasp. She sat up, her breath catching in her throat. Where was she? What had happened? She lay on a bed of some kind in a silver-walled chamber, surrounded by alien devices that hummed and blinked like living things.

What? she thought both in wonder and in fear. Where am I?

Gingerly she touched her head where it had struck the rocks. No bump. No pain. But there was another sense, a feeling that rose up from within her, that told her this place was not to be feared, that, in fact, it was somehow familiar....

Bobby! Jumping to her feet, Mariana raced out into a large, angled chamber. I’ve got to find my boy!

Gullins exploded around her, their resting disturbed as they flew noisily skyward. Shafts of sunlight broke through jagged rips and tears in the Shrine's roof—bursting columns of radiance that illuminated its ghostly interior. The rocks the Shrine had foundered on now served as the holy site's floor while, overhead, metal sheets, girders, and wiring interlaced in a mad, frenzied design.

But Mariana paused, sensing a power still present in this ancient vessel, for she knew now what it really was—some kind of ship, a craft....

But not a boat. Something else....

A beam of light winked at her passing. The space in front of her writhed as if alive, whirling and pulsing until an image materialized in front of her—the face of a man!

Mariana stepped back, her eyes wide with shock.

“Greetings,” the wavering image said. “Welcome to the S.S. Aesculapius Medical Research Starship. A doctor will be with you shortly.”

The image vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Doctor? Mariana marveled. Dektoor? Could that be what the creature said?

Overcome with a sudden dizziness, Mariana covered her face in her hands and fell to one knee. She gulped air as if suffocating, her body shaking uncontrollably. Her head seemed on fire as images and visions suddenly exploded in her mind's eye—visions of escape, disaster, death and change, images as alien as the dektoor creature and yet, somehow recognizable. But how could that be?

She forced herself to her feet, looking around her. It was as if she suddenly saw through new eyes and viewed this strange place anew.

She began running again, entering a doorway inset into the back of the chamber with a long, sleek corridor trailing behind it like the belly of a giant serpent. “Bobby!” she cried. “Bobby, where are you?”

"Muh!"

Mariana whirled toward the sound of that achingly familiar voice. "Muh!" Grinning, his face beaming, Bobby ran toward her from an adjacent chamber. Ran!

"Bobby!" She rushed to meet him, crushed him in her arms. She looked in wonder at his healthy skin, the light shining from his eyes. Gently she touched his face to see if it was really her son. "What happened, babes? How...?"

"She did it, Muh!" Bobby shouted, laughing. "The Dektoor took the sickness away!"

“She...?”

"Dektoor."

Mariana looked up at that melodious sound as the creature appeared through the same doorway Bobby had emerged from. In the aftermath of Bobby's miraculous cure, the Dektoor didn't look so frightening. And, yes, Mariana could see now that it was female. Mariana blinked, thinking that was somehow better, that she could relate to her now, as another woman despite their obvious differences. It...she seemed a monster no longer.

The Dektoor stood quietly, her head cocked to one side, that odd smile on her face. Marianna could feel it now—a great wisdom seemed to emanate from the creature...and a great sadness.

"Are you a god?" Mariana asked, her heart bursting with sudden joy as she rose to her feet. "A spirit? Aye, Saint Lapius herself?"

No, none of those, she realized as the new inner knowledge began to coalesce within her, slowly, piece by piece. Those visions she had experienced—the Dektoor was like her and Bobby, different but the same. And the last of those who had lived and worked in this...starship.

"You've cured my son in just a few heartbeats," Mariana continued. "Why have you never let the Quarantine Shield down before? Why...?"

"Because they couldn't, Muh," Bobby said very seriously, his voice echoing that same knowledge. "After Splashdown—after the Ancestors’ starship crashed—the Ancestors had to keep the Quarantine Shield up around God's Teeth to stop something from getting out, from changing us like it did them. But now the danger’s passed. The Dektoor can use that...that....

“Bio-tech,” Mariana finished softly, knowing.

Bobby nodded excitedly. “To take away the sickness, to help all the villagers!"

Mariana shook her head. It didn't matter how she and Bobby knew. In the end, the Shield had come down at just the right time.

"Thank you," Mariana said in a trembling voice.

Once again, the Dektoor held out her hands.

Without hesitation, Mariana did the same.

Larry Ivkovich is an IT professional (with a Bachelor’s Degree in Fine Art), and has written genre fiction for over twenty years.

His work has been published in the webzines Anotherealm, Tower of Light Fantasy, Noctober, M-Brane SF, Kenoma and Afterburn SF. His print sales are included in the small press genre anthology Triangulations, the Canadian fiction magazine Storyteller and the Canadian genre anthology Twisted Cat Tales. He has won two honorable mentions in the L. Ron Hubbard’s Writers of the Future contest.

Larry is a member of the Pittsburgh SouthWrites, a local writing and critique group, and lives in Coraopolis, PA with his wife, Martha, and two cats, Trixie and Milo.