The City of Chryselia

Chapter 2

Norman wakes to muffled arguing coming from the living room. He jumps up and grabs a pair of soot-free jeans to throw on. Cracking open the door, he sees Joey standing in the frame of the front door. Three shadowed figures stand in front of him.

“Joey, please don’t make this more difficult. There is too much evidence.” The sheriff says softly.

“What evidence? I defended my home!” Joey snaps back, anger curdling in his voice.

“Joey.” The sheriff tries to stay as calm as possible. “The body, the sword, and the cow all had your fingerprints on them. We found gasoline in the barn! You are lucky it didn’t catch on the side it was stored, or Norman would be dead.”

“About Norman? Where will he go? Who will take care of him?” Joey questions.

“Do you have someone we can place him with?”

“You should know he’s the only family I have left.” Joey sneers. “I have known you since we were kids, Markus. Do you really believe I would do this?”

“I don’t know anymore. I got the warrant from the judge. I don’t have a choice anymore.”

“Wait, what!” Norman shouts exiting his room. “You’re arresting him for defending our farm?”

“No, Norman. We have significant evidence that your uncle started the fire to cover for the murder of the young woman.”

“That’s crazy!” Norman shouts. Tears welling in his eyes. “He didn’t do it! There’s no way he would ever-”

“There’s too much evidence, Norman.” Joey cut him off. “I have to go with them.”

"But what do I do?" Norman asks frantically. He stares at his uncle, hoping for an answer, but the man who raised him only stares furiously into the eyes of the sheriff, unable to look away.

Joey’s head sinks. “The Sadlers’, up the road.” He says after a few moments. “They will look after him. I trust them to take care of Norman and the farm.”

“Alright. We’ll leave Deputy Parrish until they arrive.” The sheriff places cuffs around Joey’s wrists and turns to leave. “I’m sorry, Norman. I wish it were different.”

Norman sits on the porch long after the sheriff leaves with his uncle. The Sadlers come by and give him dinner, and agree he can stay there alone for a few days. He finally stands and walks into the house. Tears instantly well in his eyes from the sight of his uncle's empty chair and the smell of the home they now used to share. Norman sits in his usual spot on the couch, closest to the recliner. The plate of food the Sadlers left him is still warm. He does his best to eat what they brought him, but can only stomach a few bites. He trashes the rest and washes the plate and his uncle's whiskey glass before returning to his piles of books. Something in these will solve the problem. Something in these will help me free him. Something.

***

A piercingly loud ringing wakes Norman from his pile of drool pooling on the floor of the living room. Half awake, he looks around and eventually finds the annoyingly chiming living room phone. "Hello?" He answers groggily.

"Hi, Norman? This is Sheriff Delmont. Can you come into the station today?"

Norman snaps awake. "Will I get to see my uncle?"

"Briefly, but yes." The Sheriff responds.

"Okay. I'll head that way." Norman slams the phone back on its receiver and grabs his boots from his room. He throws them on and marches out into the warm, cloud-covered day to his truck before realizing he forgot his keys. Everything is going too fast. He is losing his uncle. He is going to have to move. He won't have any family left. Halfway back to the house, he collapses to his knees, shaking and breathing heavily. Tears sting his eyes, and his lungs burn from struggling to get air. He stays there, shaking in the red dirt and ash, in front of the house of his last family member that he was about to lose.

Shaking and crying, he doesn't hear the light footsteps and clucking of the chickens surrounding him. They begin to peck at him gently, hoping to find some treats on him. He sits up to the awaiting birds and shoos them away so he can stand. Grabbing the feed and throwing some on the ground for the birds, he notices several other chores he neglected to do this morning. He spends the next few hours distracted by the animals, giving them food and water, and ensuring they are all safely back in the coop or stalls. Walking past the barn, he sees how badly it is covered in ash and soot from the fire. He grabs a rag and cleans some soot off, though it hardly makes a dent.

The sheriff! Norman remembers he was supposed to go to the station. He corrals the last of the chickens into their coop and runs for his keys. Setting off down the dirt road, his truck throws clouds of dust into the air as he speeds towards the station. The gray clouds grow darker, and a light rain begins to trickle by the time he gets to the edge of town. He finally pulls into the station with his truck clock blinking 12:52. I'll have to reset that later. He thinks as he jumps out of the truck and runs up to the door.

Walking in, he is greeted by a young deputy who checks his license before leading him into the sheriff's office. The sheriff looks tired and stressed but greets Norman with a kind yet hesitant smile. The wrinkles around his eyes become more prominent when he grins. "Hiya Norman. Please sit." Norman takes the seat and adjusts it slightly to be comfortable. "Can I ask you to tell me what happened the other night again?"

"I guess? I woke up after hearing the first shot and went out into the living room to find my uncle."

"Where was he?"

"On the porch, pointing his rifle at our pasture."

"Did you see what he was aiming at?"

"No, he took the second shot and ran. I went to get the horses out of the barn." Norman answers.

“Did you see who Joey shot? What did they look like?”

"I saw the body after. She was in normal clothes, other than the sword with a ruby in the crossguard.”

"So you didn't see who started the fire?"

"No. It started before I got to the porch.

"Norman, it is going to be very hard to prove your uncle innocent. Without more evidence. Do you have any other info that may help?"

Norman thinks hard, trying to think of anything that could clear his uncle from the crime. Why was he so bad at helping his uncle with this? His head sinks into his hands, defeated.

"Would you like to see him for a few minutes?" The sheriff asks, seeing the frustration on Norman’s face.

His eyes shoot up to the sheriff, "Please." He says desperately.

He leads Norman into a small room and leaves him there alone. A few minutes later, the sheriff brings Joey in and puts his handcuffs through a small bar on the table.

Joey looked up at him dejectedly. "Do you think I’m gonna try and run?"

"It's just how it is, Joey. I'm sorry. I'll let you two talk. Try to be quick. I can't give you too long since it's not an official visit." He leaves and gives them the space to talk.

It takes Joey a moment before he looks Norman in the eyes. Neither of them is sure what to say, so Norman breaks the silence. "The Sadlers believe us."

"Hmmpf."

"They brought me dinner too."

"Good, they should take good care of you until you're eighteen. Then you can take over the farm officially."

"I don't want to stay with them. I want to stay at our farm with you."

"I do, too, Norman, but you have to be strong. We can try our best to fight it, but I'm not sure we have the evidence to prove my innocence. This might be a battle we have to bunker and duck our heads.” He grunts something else under his breath that Norman can’t hear.

"I'll find something, I promise."

"Norman," Joey places his head in his hands. "I don't think it's possible. Not with the evidence they have."

"I'll find somethin-"

"Don't! Don’t obsess over it. Don't let this ruin you.” Joey chides. “I won't be stuck forever. When I get out, we can run the farm together just like usual. Side by side, standing in the pasture together."

"Will I get to visit you?"

"Most likely. It may take a little bit, but I'll make sure the Sadlers help you get to wherever they put me." The sheriff comes back in and gives Joey a nod. "Stay strong, Norman." He undoes the handcuffs from the table and escorts Joey out of the room. Norman sits there alone for a moment before the deputy from the front desk comes in and takes him outside.

Norman holds the tears back until he steps out of the lobby. Exiting, the gentle stream falling from his eyes blends seamlessly with the rain that hits his face. Unsure of what to do or where to go, he sits in his truck, soaked and defeated. Emotions overflow him, his head pulses and hurts, and the tears continue to sting his eyes. He feels his back and arms tense and pulls himself into a ball. "NO!" Norman slams his fist down on the steering wheel. "I have to be strong." He says to himself, cradling his sore hand that is definitely going to bruise. Resting his head down on the steering wheel and taking a deep breath, he knows he needs to go home. He needs to keep reading and find something that can prove Joey's innocence.

He jams the keys in the ignition and turns it only to hear the sputtering of a stalling engine. He twists them again, and nothing but the turning over of the engine and a flicker of the headlights. He turns them again, and again, and again. Harder and harder, each time the engine continues to sputter and fail. The plastic of his key snaps, and he smacks his forehead back into the steering wheel in frustration. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths just like his aunt taught him to. She told him that minds can get fogged and clouded by bad thoughts, and sometimes the best way to clear that fog is to take deep breaths and blow it away. He opens his eyes and stares at the leather across the top of his steering wheel.

Lightning joins the reflected lights, shifting slightly from the drops of rain on the windshield. He stares and watches them bounce and dance across the leather upholstery. They begin to shift from their natural yellow to green, to blue, and from blue to purple, to red, and bright white before repeating in a random order. Norman glances up and notices the headlights of his truck are pulsating and shifting in the same iridescent glow. The street lights and small flood lights on the station are doing the same. Each one has a strange strand of the light oozing out of them and flowing down the sidewalk before turning down the alley behind the large brick building next to the sheriff's station.

Curiosity pulls him from his truck back into the rain. Studying the strange strands of glowing light, he follows them around the corner of the alley. The small alcove is filled with junk and garbage. He sees more strands coming from all over the place. The lights of street lamps, security lights, and even one shifting slowly came from the sky. They all lead towards the end of the alley where a bright light illuminates the small courtyard.

Norman turns the corner and sees the strands coalescing into a large, bright orb of solid, almost blinding, shifting light. His eyes adjust to the bright light, and he notices the orb is less of a sphere and more of a crystal or glass shard shape. Sharp edges and curves jut out in odd directions.

Wonder takes over him; it feels like he is looking at the world's largest gemstone. He approaches it cautiously, feeling the strange energy emitting from it. Standing within four or five feet of it, he analyzes the strange, sharp angles and colors that all morph and change with a strange rhythm.

Something hard shoves him in the back, and he feels his feet come off the ground below him. He falls through the strange field of energy and tenses for the impact, but it never comes. He just falls and spins and keeps spinning as a warmth and harsh wind takes over him and slows his fall. He opens his eyes to a massive landscape quickly coming up towards him. A large mountain range expands rapidly beneath him, splitting a massive desert from plains and forest that mingle on the other side.

He sees spots throughout the sky of strange colored clouds and falls through a thick green fog, choking on its air. Spittle flies from his mouth, and his eyes and skin sting and burn. He impacts on the surface of some body of water and feels his right leg break at the shin. He tries to swim up, but it feels as if the water itself is pulling him down. His leg throbs and refuses to move, painfully shifting in the water. His waist breaks through another surface of water, and he falls backwards, seeing the large lake of water just floating above him in the air. Something small and black impacts him, clinging to his chest and flipping him back over just in time to see the iridescent magma of a volcano. Impacting the surface, he feels himself sink into it and slowly descend into the viscous liquid. Instead of burning, it feels as if every cell in his body is being slowly pulled from him. Every nerve in his body tenses with pain. He reaches out for anything that could help him and finds only a small tingle of comfort in his chest. He screams through the burning ooze, hoping for anything to help him, before blacking out.