The Forsaken

fibers, and the wall becomes fluid. Sticky. Then it’s possible to get through—at least temporarily.”
    “What do you mean?” I ask.
    “Once holes appear, the barrier tries to close them, like skin growing over an open wound. You must enter the barrier quickly and fight your way to the other side, before the holes seal themselves and the barrier envelops you. This place is where we commonly pass through, so the barrier is weakest here. Easiest to penetrate.”
    So I am in the right place to find the rocks.
    “Show us what you mean,” Gadya says to the Monk.
    He raises a hand again. His drones start lifting the fireworks and begin extracting matches, lighting wicks. I jam my fingers into my ears.
    “Begin!” the Monk rasps to his army of drones. “Open the Blessed Wall and show the heathens the beauty within!”
    Drones run past us in a dizzying blur up to the barrier. They jam and thrust lit fireworks into the jelly. Then they leave them there and run back to get more.
    Meanwhile, other drones use launchers, slings, and even bows to fire more lit fireworks directly into the wall. A few bounce off, but most penetrate and hang inside the gelatinous substance. I can see tiny air bubbles appear around their burning wicks, which remain lit even inside the barrier.
    All of us are watching in expectation, and we’re not disappointed by what happens next.
    The first firework inside the wall detonates almost soundlessly. There’s an odd, uncanny beauty to the sight. It looks like an exotic red flower unfurling its colored petals in slow motion. Wormlike sparks of light sluggishly explode outward, trapped inside the barrier.
    Another firework goes off. Then another. The wall starts rippling. Air bubbles are growing larger. A few burning, buzzing embers reach the surface, where they fizzle and die out in puffs of smoke. Holes are opening up everywhere.
    “The barrier is like an ocean. A vertical one with a very slow current,” the Monk calls out in his raspy voice. “Like a pane of glass. Once the holes are large enough, run toward them. Pry them open. Force your way through.”
    I stare into the barrier, which is now filled with glittering multicolored lights and rising air bubbles. Beyond is the monochromatic forest. I wonder what it will feel like to enter that icy world. I miss Liam.
    “It’s almost time,” the Monk says. I look back at him. One of his men clasps him around the chest while another gets his legs. They carry him off the platform. His head lolls back and his limbs hang weakly. He looks so vulnerable, but holds so much power. “I will lead the way. Don’t bring your weapons. You will not need them in the gray zone, and they will hinder your passage through the barrier. . . . I’m not bringing my devotees, except one to carry me.”
    I wonder what would happen if one of us lunged forward right now and struck the Monk down. Would killing him loosen his hold on his followers? Maybe we’d just create a martyr for them to worship even more.
    Gadya is at my ear, voicing the thought I just had. “We could take him! Kill the bastard. Rip that mask right off him.”
    “I know,” I whisper back. But neither of us move. The risk is too great.
    The Monk’s men reach the wall and press him against the pulsing membrane of the barrier. They begin moving him into the holes and air pockets that the fireworks have opened up. The Monk’s mask is forced tightly against his face, but his drones keep pushing. It’s a surreal sight—like watching someone give birth in reverse.
    “What happens if he doesn’t make it?” I whisper to Gadya.
    “Look. He’s almost out.”
    Indeed, I watch as the Monk reaches the other side of the weakened barrier. His outstretched fingers emerge into air. Followed by his hand, and then his forearm.
    One of his drones pushes forward violently, accompanying him. The drone explodes out the other side of the barrier like he’s bursting free from an avalanche, just in time to catch the Monk as he tumbles out. He takes hold of his body and places him gently on the ground.
    The Monk weakly waves a hand to show his followers that he’s okay. Then his fingers curl into a claw, beckoning us. Other drones are busy pushing our backpacks through the holes, so we’ll have them on the other side.
    The barrier is trying to repair itself, the holes quickly closing as the material cools and starts pooling together like syrup. The drones begin assaulting it with fireworks and flares