INTERLUDE 10B: NOT EVEN GHOSTS
“And what of me? What do you see of me, dear reader? Now you know me, do you forget me? I would rather be alive! But even as I hold you in my mind, you hold me in your own and you cannot now let go. You know my fate! Tell me! How did I perish, in the end? Was it standing tall and proud, a man on both his feet? Or did I kneel? Did I lie down before the wave and let it swallow me? Tell me now, and let me see it reflected in your eye!”
– from ‘The Notes of Timesnatcher’, recovered after the Fall
The girl lay down beside the boy on the ground, slowly lowering herself until the back of her head was sinking into the grass. It was a hot, dry night, and the stillness of the air irked her.
She wasn’t alone in that. The insects swarmed, their movements frenzied. Far off, deep into the treeline, an owl hooted despondently. The grass-blades themselves crunched like leaves beneath her head. For the good of all, the druids should’ve relinquished their tight leashes over the wizards and allowed them to pervert the natural order, shatter the summer’s oppressive reign with a nice rain-cloud. Why did they have to hold on to the tradition of the seasons, when a temperate climate could pervade all year round, to the detriment of none? Druids… she’d never understood them, even when she’d replicated them in their entirety within her mind a thousand times.
It’s your heritage, rebelling against the heat, she told herself. Cold up where you come from, wasn’t it?
No. However, that was the way she chose to think of it. She’d rather remember the ice than the fire and, the way she fancied it, her instinctive drive towards one rather than the other – that was half the battle already won, wasn’t it?
And underneath it all, there was the simple reassurance of it:
I’m too hot!
She alone had cause to luxuriate in such negative sensations, in the very perspiration that trickled across her scalp. She almost thought she felt a beetle or spider run over her arm, but she didn’t look in case she turned out to be wrong – she just continued smiling up at the stars.
She’d never felt so alive.
Thank you again, Yune, she thought.
There was no other explanation.
“No better explanation,” he said before she tried to give it voice, sparing her. His once-rich voice was a hoarse whisper. “That’s how I’d word it.”
She rolled onto her left side to gaze at him. His head was still thrown back, eyes dark, swimming in reflections. The wry smile on his own face hadn’t changed.
What do they teach him? she wondered again, staring in fascination at the millions of silver pinpricks rippling in his skyward gaze. Of all the creatures in Mund, he alone seemed unperturbed by the stifling heat, the still, oppressive air.
She didn’t dare check what he was feeling, of course. The days of applying those functions were past, even if they were functions she still sensed as being available to her – atrophied, swollen… but available. She would no longer delve into minds. She’d changed.
Thank you for everything. You and Yune.
She looked down. Her fingers weren’t twelve inches from his. But she wasn’t going to reach for his hand. Not tonight.
She couldn’t, and she knew it.
Patience, she thought, lying there on her side bathed in starlight.I already learned that lesson.
The past is the past. It’s done. It’s not wings I spread. It’s branches.
The future is the future.
And her eyes came to settle questioningly upon his lips.
“No,” he whispered, still smiling. “I won’t tell you what I see. I won’t read your fate for you. I am here in the present. I can change…” He drew a deep breath, then let it out, shuddering. “… nothing. Absolutely nothing. My choices are echoes of echoes. We exist to ride the swell until it pulls us under. You’re right that the past is gone. It’s the definition of non-existence. It’s the only thing that’ll never be again. I’m sorry. I tried. I wish there was something to bring back.”
What?
He didn’t seem to hear her, continuing on regardless. “But the future… it depends on my silence. None of them will understand me anymore.”
What does that mean?
“I’ve come to realise something. My own destiny. The destinies of my rivals… my betters. I have a trump card I’ll never play but knowing it’s there will let me win every hand. There’s more than one kind of race. Staying afloat’s what counts.”
How… how can I help you win?
The smile on his face warped. Sorrow twisted his lips.
“You can’t,” he whispered, unblinking eyes fixed on the sea of stars. “I wish you could. But you can’t.” He sat up. “I’m hungry. I’ll be back soon.”
He looked down at her, and there was such regret, such despair in his face.
Wh-what about me? Will I become a real –
Then he was gone, and left behind himself only an empty heath.
* * *
She preferred the night, when the stars were out to distract him with the trance. Right now the sun was directly overhead. She listened to him crunching on the seeds, slurping the pilfered wine, but she kept her eyes shut, the sky becoming a glowing red glare through her eyelids.
Another reassuring sign.
How are you not too hot? she asked. She almost gave in to the urge to mop her brow once more, but she knew she had to leave it awhile longer before she attempted that again. Deliberate actions were the hardest and when they went wrong it set her progress back days.
“I don’t know.” He sounded irritated at the question.
She got up on one elbow, gazing at him as he sat cross-legged, just inches from her.
You, don’t know?
“I don’t know everything.”
You pretend to.
He picked up a carrot and peeled it in less time than it took her to blink. She felt little droplets from its sudden transformation spatter on her cheek, and recoiled, giggling in delight.
He looked at her, a glimmer of dismay crossing his features. But all he said was: “I don’t know why I prefer carrots raw to cooked.”
She tried to smile; concern hindered it. You need more meat on your bones.
“Coming from you. A dream.”
I don’t have bones, do I?
“That isn’t… I can’t help with that.”
And no one else would?
“They – but they can’t, can they?”
He wrung the carrot in two between his hands, hurled the pieces aside.
I know… a sorcerer could just take me, couldn’t they? But – but an enchanter can just take you!
“There are protections against domination. That, however, is not the point, is it?”
Giving yourself to another enchanter! Can’t you give me to someone you trust?
“That’s still not the point.”
What is the point?
He laughed, and it wasn’t a sound she’d ever heard before, deranged yelps of pure incoherent noise. Tears came pouring from his eyes out of nowhere.
“I wish you could leave! I’d love to take you from this place with me, but you aren’t here! I failed you. Like I fail everyone.”
Fail? You don’t fail! What do you mean, I’m not here? She could hear it in her voice; she was becoming increasingly desperate. You see me! You see me, Irimar!
“But I’m imagining you. That’s all.”
She stared at him.
“I lost it, Jocey. Out of control. Duskdown sh-showed me. Can’t trust. Them. Myself. I became… I killed innocent people. I put them in harm’s way, watching on as they were torn apart. As they burned… And now I’m here. With you.” His eyes sank to the ground between his folded legs, and his voice plummeted with his gaze. “I’m insane.”
That’s why I came back, she realised. For him. Not for me.
She moved her hand by instinct, taking his fingers in hers.
Skin met skin and didn’t phase through.
Wonder filled his eyes, making them shine like sapphires –
And he snapped to his feet, suddenly looming over her, a masked reaper.
“When I go for supplies – what do you do?”
She sat up, craning her neck back so that she could continue gazing at the bright blue irises, now hiding behind the slits in the hourglass. What do you mean? I… You only take a second! I barely have chance to –
“Last time I went for a run across the ocean. Followed Feychilde’s back-trail. It reeks of Duskdown. All that death.”
So? I don’t –
“I was gone almost an entire day.”
She involuntarily tore up a handful of grass. N-no.
His eyes followed the green strands tumbling from her fingers, and he shivered. “Yes.”
But… but we agreed… it was a miracle… it was Yune’s gift –
“I said that’s how I’d word it. If it were true, Jocey. If only it were true. It’s a dream. You’re my dream. I have to let you go. I have to move on.”
She closed her eyes, disgusted with herself, disgusted with the truth.
Why? Why did Kultemeren have to make things this way? Why couldn’t she just be a miracle? All she wanted was to exist again.
So, what, you’re arguing with yourself right now, is that it?
She opened her eyes once more to challenge him.
And he was gone, less than a rustle of a breeze to mark the trace of his passage; in his absence she cast about, as if gifted with sight for the first time in her life.
The heath was devoid of features. The grass was unmoving. The heather was silent, withering in the sun’s glare.
But this time it was as though he’d unlocked it for her. The capacity for growth. To change as he was changing.
This time when he left her, she waited.
And she felt every minute.
I will exist again.
* * *
“What smells so good?”
She drew in a deep sniff, feeling her nostrils flare. “It’s the heather. I made it sweeter.”
“Is there anyone out there?”
She smiled. “Don’t worry. He won’t be back a third time, and the first was the only close one. There’s no one out there. The city’s sleeping.”
“You can feel that from here?” He sounded distracted, but he was only gazing into her face.
“It’s night time, my dear, silly Irimar.”
“Oh really? Already?”
“I’m afraid so. Are you going to study the stars some more?”
“In their totality less encapsulating than even one of these freckles.”
“Oh, be serious.” She jostled his shoulder, then ran her fingertips across his neck, raising them to trace his jawline. “And you need to eat.”
“I suppose I do, don’t I?” He chuckled, but didn’t move away, blinking rapidly as her fingers tickled him under the ear. “You’re getting me high on your power again.”
“I’m sorry.” She lowered her hand, feeling sudden embarrassment. “I don’t know how to turn it off. I don’t even know how I have it. Am I a lich?”
He sat back on his haunches, and reached over to pat his flung-aside pouches in search of his next meal. “That’s what I looked for up there, last night.”
“And you didn’t like what you found.”
“Redgate is moving, behind the Wall.”
She sighed.
“This talk of a Wall disturbs me.”
“It disturbs me too! It disturbs all of us!” He frowned. “What he’s doing – where he’s going – it’s god-powered. He’s acting as someone’s agent, fulfilling designs beyond his own. It’s not like him.”
“You mean he’s heard some god’s idea and he’s going along with it?”
“He must be. There’s no other explanation. Yet his reach – how has he stolen continents away from us? How long has his arm grown?”
She shook her head. “You’re just trying to divert –”
“You’re tied to the Ceryad,” he said. “You want to know the truth! I know. There it is. It remains one of my few areas of non-expertise, but, should I feel pushed to hazard a guess: you are a new form of undead.” He stopped rifling through the demiskin to look at her. “Pure spirit. There’s only light in you, Jocey. I know it. Whatever malevolence spawned you, the sin attaches only to your mother. You’re clean.”
He’d stopped too abruptly.
“But…” she prompted.
He smiled bashfully. “Am I that readable?”
“You know the answer I’ll give, don’t you? Your hesitation – it’s scaring me, Irimar.”
“Sometimes we have good reason to hesitate. The futures where we don’t take a pause carry a gradual accumulation of negative social consequences. We soon learn to fake it.”
“Irimar, please. I have a right to know.”
He raised the fruitloaf he’d produced as if to offer her some. She shook her head, and when he saw the depths of her consternation he gave up, lowering it back to his lap slowly along with his eyes.
“It means you’re… temporary. Your spirit doesn’t get to move on. It’s tied here and if – when – the Ceryad is destroyed… you have no eternal essence. You don’t go to Celestium. Or not forever.”
“Maybe it’s a –”
“Shut up.” He still wasn’t looking at her but he gave power to his voice, trapping her in his time-magic and speaking in such a way that she could no longer continue, only listen. “It is not a blessing, Jocey. You are not hell-bound either. I refuse to accept that. We just… need to explore our options, that’s all.”
“Is the…” She licked her lips; they were dry. “Is the Ceryad even going to get broken, though? I thought it was basically impervious to… well, everything.”
“It reflects or absorbs energies directed at it, yes. That’s its most-basic nature. But I don’t know what a wizard could accomplish just by moving the rock around it, and I do not want to find out. Maybe even a gang of vandals could smash it with hammers if they had the right ensorcellments. Its futures and pasts elude discernment, as you well know. Yet even if nothing goes wrong, we know geological shifts occur. The Five Peaks weren’t raised by Wyre. Will the Ceryad survive that kind of change? Of course, it might take ten thousand years before we see something like –”
“Ten thousand years!” she cried, astonished. “Who wants to live so long in the first place?”
“You don’t understand!” His fear was palpable. “Ten thousand years – a trillion trillion years – they’re the same. The same. Less than a heartbeat, before eternity.”
“Oh.” She swallowed, and almost choked; her throat was far too dry. “Y-yes. I suppose I do follow. But if I have all this time to find out –”
“But the earth could move tomorrow!”
He sighed, then in a gesture of outright surrender he took a savage bite of the raisin-infused bread.
She couldn’t help but grin despite the seriousness of the conversation.
“Or it might not, Irimar. I trust you. You’ll find something, against all the odds.” She raised her hand once more, this time to his leg, delivering a reassuring squeeze as he swallowed the food. “You always find a way. You think you failed. But you’re here, still trying, still fighting for a way to do the right thing. To make amends. Isn’t that enough?”
He didn’t give the answer she’d been expecting.
Slowly, he shook his head and swallowed.
“Never,” he breathed, such certainty in his voice that it made her eyes fill and spill over. “That’s never enough. Not to me. To you. To those who perished. Those who loved them. What if I presided over their final separations? What if they never meet again, in the realms beyond? What if they stay lost forever?”
“If it’s really forever, then they have to find each other. At least once. Right?” She smiled as he met her eyes. “You found me, didn’t you?” she finished quietly.
He kissed her. The soft, lapping wind of the pocket-world they’d built themselves rose up as her direction lost focus, becoming insistent, poignant despite its ultimate source in her power. Its touch, simultaneous with the kiss, sent electric shivers racing through her, lifting her mind to yet another mode of consciousness.
She was aware of her mortality, something she possessed to an extent beyond the understanding of any other creature on the material plane. She might outlive a hundred generations and yet remain more destructible, more fragile in the end, than a marshland gnat. It didn’t bring sorrow. Instead of pain, nostalgia came sharply stabbing into her emotional core, again and again, leaving fragments behind with every stroke. She knew she’d began as a dragon’s distraction, a mere seeming, a mask. Now the totality of her existence was laid bare before her, she could see her place in the landscape of the world as never before.
Mortal.
Every wound this knowledge made in her soul – every irreparable injury – made her more present. She had purpose. A goal. A reason to be.
When they separated she found herself laughing in pure joy. A brittle emotional state, perhaps, she recognised; yet a true one.
“I’m real,” she cried.
“Your lips taste real.” His eyes were still closed, the breeze making dark waves of his hair.
She went back for another quick peck, then:
“Yours too. I think I’m parched, you know. Can I try the port? Cherry-infused, right?”
Now he opened his eyes. She’d managed to surprise him.
Yes. I’m going to try it.
She felt positively giddy as he passed over the bottle –
It fell with a thump to the grass right through her hand.
Suddenly the wind rose to fever-pitch. It pulled not just at her hair but at her skin.
Her identity streamed, and it was only thanks to his magical prowess that they retained a last moment together.
“No,” he begged the moment. “Stay.”
“Irimar!” she screamed into that awful emptiness yawning open between them. “Irimarrrrrr!”
She felt the pull of the whirlpool as time slipped through his fingers, the sounds of both the wind and her wailing reducing down to absolute silence.
Leaving him alone at last.
* * *
Where there had been nothing, there was something. A defiant spark, drifting slowly against the backdrop of the void, falling inescapably deeper into the gulf with every passing moment.
Terror gripped her once more as she recognised where she was. What she was. Who she was.
“Irimar?” she panted into the nothingness.
Yes. It’s me again. We’re going to do it more slowly this time.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Way slower.”
The ritual is ending. I’ll be back.
She stared into the void.
“I’m going nowhere.”
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