Olaf felt his body grow rigid as two more senior guards dragged the figure of the newest prisoner before him. It seemed smaller than it should be, at least in comparison to the other prisoner’s he’d seen. Not quite the hardened figure of a revolutionary, nor the lumbering form of an enemy soldier. He stepped away from his post to watch them drag the body upstairs, but was stopped by a firm slap to his chest.
“Stay put,” Allan said.
“Sorry, sir.” Olaf stepped back. “Where are they going with it?”
“I heard a rumor we were getting a new prisoner. Guess it’s true. They’re putting it in the highest prison cell in the tower as some kind of joke.”
“What the joke?”
“It was tempting the heavens.”
“Heavens? What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. Enough to warrant being sent here, though.”
“It doesn’t look that big.”
“I never knew criminals had to look a certain way.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s a prisoner. That’s all there is to it.” Allan shook his head. “You sure you’re good for the night patrol tonight?”
“What? Of course!”
“Alright. They’re all locked up, anyway. I think you can handle them, yeah?”
“Yeah… Yes, sir!”
Olaf took another step back and leaned against the warm stone wall. He felt the sweat on his lower back stick to his itchy uniform shirt. A trickle slid down the side of his face. He looked over at Allan, and felt some comfort from his equally flushed face. It wasn’t just him then. It was an unusually hot day, but nothing except a few dark clouds on the horizon offered even the hope of respite.
The sun itself was already low in the sky. Allan nodded to it as he and Olaf walked down to the mess to eat before the night shift.
“Rain’s coming.”
“What?”
“Red sky. Red sky at night means rain.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works…”
“How long have you been here?”
“A little under a week.”
“So, trust me that rain’s coming.”
“Alright, alright. At least it’ll cool things down a bit.”
“There’s the spirit.”
“We’ll have fresh food, too.”
“What?”
“Someone said that earlier. New prisoner means a ship, and a ship means fresh food.”
“Huh.”
“I would’ve thought you’d notice that before whether or not it’s going to rain.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Huh.”
Olaf and Allan arrived at the mess. The smells of fresh frying fish and roasted vegetables greeted them at the door. Allan refused to make eye contact with Olaf. The latter took some small pleasure in that acceptance of his correct observations. They took their trays, topped them with the fresh fish and vegetables, took a small cup of beer each, and walked to a table by a barred window.
The sun touched down on the waters of the bay outside. Golden sunlight sparkled off the tips of the waves gently rolling towards the tower’s base. Olaf admired the view for a moment before reaching into his pocket and taking out his small manual for the night patrol. Allan chuckled through a mouthful of fish.
“What?” Olaf asked.
“What are you reading that for?”
“To remember what I’m supposed to…”
“Remember? I told you already, they’re locked up!”
“It’s also something to read.”
“What’s so good about having something to read?”
“Everything.”
“Some kind of scholar, huh?”
“Not some kind. A failed one.”
“How do you fail at that?”
“Apparently by asking too many of the wrong kind of question.”
Allan laughed.
“You got kicked out for asking questions, so you joined the army?”
“It was my mother’s idea. She said it would put some discipline in me.” Olaf closed the manual and gathered his things. He stood, and huffed. “We’ll see if it works.”
“Couple years here will do it to you, alright.”
Olaf grimaced, but nodded quickly before he left to prepare for his patrol. He gathered a new baton and a canteen of water from the supply room. Gathering clouds extinguished what sun was left by the time Olaf walked the halls of the tower prison. A cool wind blew in from the sea, carrying the familiar smell of summer rains. Olaf was happy for some break in the sweltering sun that had dominated the weather during his first week at the tower. The prisoners seemed relieved, too. Most stayed far back in their cells, away from the doors and closer to the small, barred windows in the back pouring in fresh, cooling air. That gave Olaf some small sense of relief. At least the night patrol would get a bit easier.
Every now and then, usually on the stairs between floors, Olaf would bump into another guard patrolling the halls. They’d nod to each other, and give quick warnings if there was that rare prisoner acting up, and then continue on their way. It was a tedium Olaf hadn’t expected. For all the reputation the place had, there were few of the prisoners stepped out of line. A shiver ran down his spine when he reached the top floor. Maybe that was why the place had the reputation it had.
“It’s talking.”
Olaf stopped.
“What?” he asked.
Another guard walked forward out of the gloom of the cloudy night towards him. He nodded his head behind him and gestured with his baton. The handle’s gold wrapping flashed with the light of a nearby torch. Olaf followed the gesture to its end, a small cell at the end of the hallway. The guard grunted to clear his throat before he spoke next.
“It’s talking, Olaf. That new prisoner. Don’t bother it.”
“Oh. Alright.”
“Just a piece of advice.” The guard lowered his baton. “Weird shit. Rest of them are asleep, though.”
“Understood. Thank you.”
The guard nodded and moved past Olaf to the stairs. Olaf listened to his footsteps fade. He sighed, gathered himself, and began the methodical march first up and then down the top floor’s hall. Just as he neared the end, where the tower’s new prisoner sat, a flash of lightning burst in the air. He heard the prisoner gasp.
“Listen!”
“What?”
Thunder boomed overhead like a cannon.
“The voice of the heavens.”
Olaf stepped back from the cell. His head inched towards his baton.
“It’s thunder.”
“Yes…” the prisoner whispered back.
“It always thunders after lightning.”
“So, you observe the heavens, too?”
“I…” Olaf removed the baton from his side. “Stay quiet.”
The prisoner chuckled.
“Do you know how many times I was told that?” It chuckled some more. “You’ve heard it too, yes?”
Another flash of lightning overhead. It giggled with delight.
“It’s just…” Boom. “Thunder.”
“It’s more than that. There’s something else happening here. That sound is.”
Flash.
“Wait for it.”
Boom. The skies opened soon after. Rain pelted down onto the tower, drowning silence in a repetitive sheet of trickling water.
“It’s a sign. There’s… the lightning. That flash, it’s brighter than anything else you’ve seen, right? What power is there. We could find it, you know. Not us, not anymore. But we could have. I guess that’s my point. There’s only sounds like that, that thunder, from real power. But why do none of us have anything like lightning?”
“Because it’s lightning. It’s not possible to do anything with it. It just is.”
“It just is! Is that the kind of mind you have? A mind like everyone else? No. you’re different.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not. Do you know why? You asked me.”
“What?”
“There. Right there. I spoke to you, and you asked me ‘What?’ You told me to be quiet later, but only after you asked. That’s all there was to it. You had to ask, first. You question, more than anything. You’ve a better mind than you think for that reason alone. You know it, too, don’t you?”
“So little confidence in you, why? Were you told to be quiet, too?”
“I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
“Yet here you are. Another sign that you’re different. That’s why I’m here. That’s why you might be here, someday.”
“I’m already here.”
“But you’re on that side of these bars.”
“There’s still the walls. There’s still the ocean.”
“There’s no prison that really stops a questioning mind. Not really. Even here, through it all, I have so many questions. Don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That won’t stop here. Any answers you get will just raise more questions. That’s the curse and the blessing of a mind like yours and mine.”
“How is it a blessing?”
Lighting flashed overhead.
“Take this storm. Take me as an example. Did they tell you why I’m here? Are you curious?”
“You tempted the heavens.”
“A cowardly name for what happened.” It stopped to listen to the thunder rumble overhead. “I told you, there’s power up there in the lightning and the thunder. Power beyond measure, at least for now. I wanted to see it for myself. To experience it. Tell me, have you ever been caught outside in a thunderstorm?”
“Once or twice, growing up.”
“What did your parents tell you to do? Did they tell you anything?”
“What?”
“How do you protect yourself when you’re caught in a thunderstorm?”
“They said not to hide under trees? Even if it was raining.”
“Precisely. It’s common advice, and well founded. Lightning strikes tall objects.” Another flash. “So, to interact with it, I thought I could build something to attract lightning to me. After that, I could learn anything I wanted from it.”
Thunder boomed. Olaf shook where he stood.
“You tempted…”
“That’s what they called it, after I proved myself right! I guided lightning to me. I called it in, and my, did it deliver. My whole town burned before me. It was terrible. But it was powerful.”
“That’s heinous.”
“It was an accident. I’m not paying for it? They sent me here! The grief was punishment enough, but this place will kill me. That’s all they know how to do when it comes to a questioning mind. The only way to really stop the questions. The only way they can avoid the answers they don’t want to hear.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Yet, here you are.”
“No. You told me the difference. I’m on this side.”
“Not even you believed that, if you’re being honest with yourself. It’s because you know I’m right. I was right to tempt the heavens, are so are you.”
“Me? I would never…”
“You might.” It moved in the shadow of the cell. “Your baton. Is that gold thread or gold wire wrapped around the handle?”
“What?” Olaf looked down. “Thread, I think.”
“Are you sure?”
Olaf moved his fingers over the handle, feeling it for the first time despite how long he’d been holding it. His fingers slid over the cool rigidity of metal.
“It’s wire.”
“Good. Lightning likes metal. That’s what I built my project out of. That wire will prove me right, and might give you some of the answers you’re looking for.”
“What do you mean?”
“You might be on that side of the bars, but at least you’re still asking questions. The storm’s still raging. The tower’s the tallest thing for miles. You have metal in your hand. Find out for yourself the power of asking the right questions.”
“I…”
It leaned forward, and for a second a new flash of lightning illuminated its face. It looked kind, if a bit annoyed, with a burning in its eyes separate from the lightning reflected in them. Olaf’s mind stopped churning, struck by something he couldn’t place. Then the darkness returned, accompanied by trembling thunder.
“Only if you want, of course,” she said.
“Thank you,” Olaf said.
He stepped away from the cell and turned in time to hear the thudding footfalls of a guard climbing the stairs. They nodded to each other, and Olaf let him pass by. He watched the guard progress down the hall and waited for him to move a good distance from the landing. Once Olaf felt safe, he turned his attention to the small door opposite the stairs leading back down. It was closed, but not locked. Olaf checked the small, barred window in its center. There was a narrow flight of stairs leading to the tower’s roof. They looked damp.
They were damp. Olaf’s boots splashed through the shallow puddles in the old, pockmarked stairs. He stopped within sight of the door to the roof. The old door there had been blown open by wind long ago. The hinges, rusted by the sea spray, held it open just wide enough for Olaf to see the rain lashed about by a suddenly chilly wind.
Lighting flashed.
Thunder rumbled.
Olaf shook with the tower. His fingers tightened around the baton’s handle. It was here that he realized he forgot to ask what to do with it. But just then a gust of wind blew the door open wide and covered Olaf’s face with a fine sheet of ocean-tinged rain. It felt crisp, and purifying. His heart raced. He felt alive.
He climbed the final steps to the top of the tower. He blinked through the raindrops clinging to his eyelashes. His still blurry vision showed him a view of the bay he’d never seen from any of the tower windows.
Dark waves tipped with white foam crashing against the tower’s base.
Grasses whipped into a sea-like fury by the wind.
Trees seemingly bowing to the heavens themselves.
Olaf then turned his gaze to those heavens, full of clouds churning like the dark seas beneath them. A fresh crackle of lighting illuminated their skyward depths, followed by an almost immediate peal of thunder.
He was at the highest point for miles, like she’d said, and added to that height by raising his baton high above his head. The metal wire on the handle glistened as the rain pelted it like everything else Olaf could see. Then he closed his eyes, but that wasn’t enough to block the surge of light and heat from the near instantaneous explosion in the air around him. His world was aflame for an instant, illuminated by blinding brightness and searing pain. The it was darkness, almost unnaturally black. Cold, peaceful, and still.
The tower guards found Olaf lying in a nearly ashen heap of clothes and his own skin the next morning. His chest was spiderwebbed by something only just like a tattoo. The commandant said it was the mark of someone who had tempted the heavens. Only a few actually understood what he meant by that, but no one questioned it.
They brought Olaf’s body down to the infirmary, a small room deep in the tower’s base. He stayed there, unconscious, for nearly a month. Before the start of the next, his eyes opened. The nurse informed the staff.
Allan was the first to see him.
“What were you thinking?” he asked.
Olaf didn’t answer.
“One of the guards said they saw you talking to the new prisoner on your patrol. That doesn’t look good.”
Olaf sighed.
“You’ll be locked up here, you know that.”
“I already am.”
“No, you’re not. You were one of us. We kept them here!”
“We’re all here.”
“Olaf…”
“I was wrong.”
“What?”
Olaf’s face cracked into a small, painful smile. But there was a genuine, amused look in his eyes that held Allan’s attention.
“Not every time we get a new prisoner will we get fresh food. Not this time.”
“Huh.” Allan felt the urge to chuckle, but Olaf did it for him. Allan smirked. “Why?”
“What?”
“Why did you tempt the heavens, Olaf?”
“Oh. That.” Olaf sighed again, and winced with the pain of the breath. “I didn’t.”
“What?”
“I didn’t tempt them.”
“But then, why did you go on the roof like that?”
Olaf smiled wider.
“You keep asking questions.”
“Yes.”
“That’s good. I missed that, earlier. Keep doing that.”
“Why?”
“Exactly.” Olaf closed his eyes. “Why, indeed.”