by D. T. Kane
“Do you remember that time you took me to see Lady Tragnè?”
He nodded, still avoiding her gaze.
“And I was so awestruck I couldn’t even get out a simple greeting? My face still burns when I think of it.”
A corner of his mouth twitched at the memory and for a moment he forgot what he was here to do. But only for a moment.
“At least I got to see the lion. Rend. What majesty. I think he liked me.”
The smile of remembrance on her face was at once beautiful and gut wrenching. For a time they sat in silence, listening to the slow crackle of the cooking fire.
“How was Val?” she finally asked.
His eyes watered, forcing him to close them once more.
“I’ve seen him better.”
She frowned. “Really. How was he?”
He squeezed his eyes tighter. “Bad. I think he tried to attack Stephan.”
She gasped, chewing at her lip.
“He didn’t...” Her words trailed off in a question.
“No. Stephan’s fine.” Then, seeing the cloud of concern in her violet eyes. “They’ll both be fine.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” She stared into the flames.
Devan couldn’t argue with her. The hatred in the final glare Val had given him before he’d left the Conclave would linger with him forever.
“Let’s go outside. I want to do it there. It just rained; the petrichor will be calming.”
“We don’t need to. Not yet. We’ve still some—”
“Have you found a solution then?” she snapped.
He flinched as if struck.
“You know I’ve tried. Oh how I have. The Path just won’t—”
His stammering caused the anger to flee her features as quickly as it had appeared. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder so that her next words were muffled.
“I know, I know. You’ve been like a father to me. Ever since you took me from my mother for training. If there’d been a way I know you’d have found it.”
Her assurance should have eased his hurt. Instead, it drove home his failure like a knife in the back. A tear clawed down his face.
“Come.” She entwined her fingers with his, through the chains that connected his rings. He never let anyone touch those rings. But her gesture brought back memories of the day he’d taken her under his tutelage. Led her away from home at her mother’s bidding to fulfill her destiny as an Aldur. He smiled at her and she smiled back.
Now she led him, taking him outside.
There was a soft breeze and the earthy aroma of the earlier rain invaded his nostrils. It reminded him of a graveyard. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. He hadn’t given up. Never would. But he couldn’t disclose the remaining possibilities to her. Even now. Recursive loops and paradoxes. The Path would barely stand for his plans as it was. Certainly not if she knew.
She took a few steps away, back to him. Closing her eyes, she tipped her face to the sky, inhaling with a smile.
“Yes. This is nice.” She breathed in again, still smiling. “Make it quick. Before I lose hold of that final memory of your smile.”
He was shaking as he approached her. He ought to say something. Anything. But he’d never been the wordsmith of their little group. Him, her, and Val. And now that trio was shattered forever. Never again would they all sit about a cook fire laughing, sharing stories, poking fun at one another.
Her back still to him, he wrapped an arm about her, drawing her in close. He brought his other hand to the base of her neck, picturing the dagger that would sever her spine.
“I won’t forget you, Autumn.”
He sent his will into the rings.
Her back arched.
Then she was limp in his arms. And for a time—a long, long time—he remembered nothing but the agony of loss. The loss that his failure had caused.
60
Jenzara
Life is but a race to collect memories. Ask any old man and he will tell you, “Take all my possessions, my health, even my dignity, but leave me my memories. Without them I am nothing, was nothing, will forever be nothing.”
-Excerpt from Agar’s Authorities
GRASS TICKLED AT HER face and she gave an easy sigh. For a time she was content to just lay there, enjoying the soft touch of nature. A cool breeze lapped at her skin, carrying the scent of wildflowers and pine.
Then memory began to trickle back. The North didn’t have grass, or soft things, or even pleasant smells.
Sitting up, she looked about, eyelids at first resistant before fluttering open, as if she hadn’t used them in quite a while. She lay at the edge of a glade, a small house at its center. Fields of corn and other vegetables stretched out around it, vibrant greens suggesting the food was ripe for harvest. Her mind was slow, like she’d been in a deep sleep and was just now waking. Finally the scene clicked into place and she leapt to her feet.
She couldn’t be back here. How was it possible? She tried to think back. Glofar Stronghold. Ferrin hovering at her side. That final talk with the Grand Master. Then... Darkness. As if memory had stepped off a cliff. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember, but only succeeded in giving herself a headache.
“Hello,” a small voice said from behind her.
She turned to see a child staring back at her from just over the tree line. Her chestnut hair was a mess of tangles, full of twigs and leaves. Her ill-fitting clothes were in a similar state of disarray. She wore a necklace that, surprisingly, seemed to match the ring Ferrin had given her, made of the same dark wood that gave off a curious luminescence.
Jenzara smiled. The girl’s bright violet eyes shown with a mix of interest and uncertainty.
“Hello there. What’s your name, little one?”
The girl hesitated a moment, then puffed out her chest, taking a step forward. “I’m not little. I’m ten.” She held out both hands, fingers extended. Then, seeming to worry she’d been too forward, looked down, kicking at the dirt. “Air-rum says I should be more...” she paused, as if searching for a word. “Confident,” she finally said, looking up. “I’m Autumn. Who’re you?”
Of course. She was the child Erem—Taul—had spoken of. So much had happened since then she’d nearly forgotten there’d been a child here under his care. She rose and the girl looked up at her with questioning eyes.
“My name’s Jenzara. You must give Erem fits with that hair,” she laughed. Light, but that felt good. She took in a deep breath, half expecting her chest to explode in pain. But she felt nothing save for fresh air filling her lungs.
The girl’s face brightened. “You know Air-rum?” her mouth couldn’t quite wrap itself around the pronunciation. “Is he here? He’s been gone for a long time.”
Jenzara bit her lower lip, looking towards the house. “I’m not sure if—”
“Of course he’s here.” Jenzara started at the unexpected sound and she half expected the little girl to bolt. Instead, a smile crossed her face and she turned to the voice’s source.
“Devan!” exclaimed the little girl. She rushed to him and hugged his leg. The Angel beamed down at her. He ran a hand over her head, picking a leaf from her hair. His face seemed less drawn than last she’d seen him. He turned his grin to her.
“Lady Jenzara. So very nice to see you healthy once again.”
She didn’t immediately return the smile. Her limited experience with the Angel hadn’t been particularly positive. And she distinctly remembered Valdin accusing him of setting in motion the events that had brought the Parents to Ral Mok in the first place. Right before...
She shuddered, remembering the terror of a roof caving in on her. The agony of her bones snapping under the weight. After that, her memory became so disjointed, like time had stopped moving in just one direction. And there’d been another sort of agony. A spear. Blood. Darkness. Her skin turned cold, and she glanced down to the girl, seeking respite in her innocence. For a moment, she would
have sworn she’d seen Autumn before. Or was it that she would see her? She shook her head. What did that even mean? A spell of dizziness overtook her.
The Angel placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. At his touch, a flood of images returned to her from the time she’d spent laying in a bed chamber at Glofar Stronghold. Dying. The Angel had been in her thoughts. Those disjointed, timeless thoughts. She’d seen him laughing with a young man and a woman with auburn hair. Seen him cradling the head of a dead man in a multi-colored robe, surrounded by death. Seen him both seeking life and killing. Seen him burning. Dying.
“It’s alright. The confusion is natural after what you went through. Result of creep through the metaphysical barrier.”
“What?”
“Never mind. It will lessen over time.”
“Lessen? As in, it won’t stop?”
The Angel lifted a shoulder, let it drop. He gave her a veiled smile that asked her not to push the issue. It wasn’t a plea she wished to grant, but there were more pressing things to worry over at the moment.
“Where are the others?”
“They’re here,” the Angel replied, obviously happy to change the subject. “Just taking them a bit longer to wake, I’d imagine. Defeating the Seven is no easy task. Even I still’ve a bit of a headache.”
Shooting pain returned to her head and she raised a hand to her temple. Had the Angel just said they’d battled the Seven? But as outrageous as it sounded, she realized her mind accepted it fully. What was happening to her?
“So Air-rum is here? Let’s see him!” Autumn was practically bouncing up and down. “But first, I make him a present.”
Jenzara began to say she didn’t think there was time to make a present, but the girl stooped down and began waving her hands over the ground. Jenzara’s senses tingled as a sprout shot up from beneath Autumn’s hands, growing upward with impossible speed. After a minute, the girl took in a gulp of air, as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time. Then she tugged at the plant, giving a childish growl of exertion. She plopped backward, the stem slipping through her tiny fingers. Without thought, Jenzara dropped to one knee to see if the girl was alright. Autumn looked up to her with big eyes.
“Help please.” She motioned at the plant she’d just channeled from nothing. Without questioning, Jenzara tugged it free of the earth. From the sprout’s end dangled a sizable carrot. Autumn clapped her hands in glee and snatched the vegetable from her.
“Very good,” Devan said, applauding. “Earth was always your strongest.” The pride in his eyes was beyond the casual joy that came from seeing a happy child. “Come, let’s go see the others.” He held out a hand to Autumn.
She took it, entwining her fingers with the Angel’s. His chained rings chimed, the sound sending a happy buzz through Jenzara. Nervous excitement filled her as she followed them towards the cottage. Part way there, the girl broke away from the Angel, dashing towards the dwelling. Jenzara half wanted to join the rush, but restrained herself. Instead, she looked to Devan as they continued to approach the cottage.
“Who is she?”
A shade passed over his face for a moment, but he covered it with a smile. “She was my student. And she was my friend. And someday, I will be hers.”
She creased her brow at him. Once more, the Angel’s words made no sense and complete sense all at once.
“And now that we’ve stemmed the immediate threat of Val’s plot...” Devan’s voice became soft. “She may be the most dangerous being left on the Path.”
An image of the Angel weeping over the limp form of a red-haired woman in his arms exploded in her mind’s eye and she gasped. Devan didn’t look at her, but a pitying look crossed his face, as if he somehow understood precisely what she was seeing. It was all she could do to fight back the tears.
“Your metasense is very strong now,” the Angel said, his eyes still on Autumn as she rushed towards the cottage. “You had some form of it before, I think, but what the lad did to you has amplified it tenfold.”
“Metasense?” she asked.
Devan looked at her sideways, as if pondering how much of a close-held secret to tell her. “It’s a, well, condition that afflicts some Linears. Not many, but then odds don’t mean much when you’re one of the unlucky few.”
“Afflicts?” she said, grabbing the Angel’s sleeve, forcing him to halt. Finally, he faced her.
“Well, some might call it a blessing, I suppose. Though, I’m not sure I’ve heard someone with the metasense actually say that. It lets you see parts of the Path without actually having experienced them.”
She pondered this for a moment, trying to calm the panic of her thoughts. Father had sometimes spoken of the Angelic Church’s teachings to her, but she’d never paid them much attention. “Isn’t that what you, the Aldur, do? See the Path?”
“Well,” Devan said, laughing with little humor. “That’s sort of like comparing sailing the Western Trade Route to swimming it. Both can get you there in theory. But in reality? I can go to any time or place on the Path pretty much at will, so long as I have access to all five elements for peregrination. Metasense has nowhere near that precision. At best, it’s like viewing a single page torn from a tome for a few moments. At worst, it will be flashes that could be interpreted in dozens of ways. Some lucky few learn how to control it. But most...”
His words trailed off, but she tightened her grip on his sleeve. “Most?” she demanded.
“Most gradually go insane.”
Her stomach twisted like a corpse on the gallows. It must have shown in her face, as the Angel grimaced and held out his hands in a calming gesture.
“But that won’t necessarily be your fate. Most Linears don’t have the benefit of knowing an Aldur. I can help you some in dealing with it.”
“Oh,” she murmured. “Thank you.”
He waved her gratuity away. “It’s curious, actually. The sense is generally inherited, but I’m not aware that either of your parents possessed it.”
Their conversation was cut off as the door to the cottage opened. The Grand Master stepped out and Autumn nearly collided with him. He smiled and knelt down to accept the carrot from the eager girl. A gleeful smile filled her face, dimples all but concealing her eyes. The dwarf, Nellis, appeared behind the Grand Master, greeting the girl like he’d known her all his life.
Then Ferrin stepped out of the house. He looked about for several moments, an expression close to panic growing on his face. But then their eyes locked. He smiled. Her breath caught. Until that moment she hadn’t grasped the worry she held for him. And longing.
She didn’t realize she was running until she was nearly upon him. Practically flying into him they embraced, his arms wrapping around her, their lips locking into a deep kiss. Their mouths parted slowly, her face burning. She buried it in his neck. He smelled like salty pine, the walls of Ral Mok, the chapel’s pews. One of his eyelashes tickled her cheek. She was still unsure where their relationship would go from here, but in that moment all she wanted was to hold him forever. And perhaps find somewhere to be alone.
“You’re whole again,” Ferrin said, voice thick. “When I woke and you weren’t with us I began to think—”
“I’m fine,” she said, putting a finger to his lips. She wasn’t entirely confident in that pronouncement, what with the maelstrom of confused thoughts and Devan’s words bouncing about her brain. But she’d seen enough since leaving Ral Mok to know that speaking the whole truth quite often did little good.
“You’re alright, that’s all that matters,” he said, drawing her close again. There was a protectiveness in his voice that at once thrilled and frightened her. She’d seen already some of the lengths to which he was willing to go for her, and she wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about that, inspiring such vehemence in him. But now wasn’t the time for worry. She closed her eyes, taking in Ferrin’s welcoming aroma. She was home wherever he was.
After just standing there, holding him for some ti
me, it finally occurred to her that there were others about. Even that thought didn’t immediately spur her to release Ferrin. But eventually she opened her eyes, looking over his shoulder. The Grand Master had risen from greeting Autumn, though he was still smiling down at the girl. But as he felt her look, he turned his eyes to her.
His eyes! Gone were the pits, dark as blindness, replaced by a soft blue. His hard face took on any entirely different character with them. Almost kind. They spurred something in her she couldn’t explain, a memory that remained just beneath the surface. She gently pushed away from Ferrin and approached the man. Their eyes met, then she threw her arms around his neck. It just felt the right thing to do.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said to the Grand Master.
“Yes, well,” he stammered. Taul Bladesorrow actually stammered. She smiled. Then the image of him hovering protectively over her mother at Riverdale flashed in her mind and she hugged him tighter.
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “I too am relieved to see you’re well.” He seemed to want to say more, but remained silent. And before she could prod him further, the Angel spoke.
“Grand Master; Ferrin; even the dwarf. Seems we’re all back together, just as I intended.”
Taul released her and gave the Angel a considering look, as if seeing him for the first time.
“What you did,” he began, but Devan waved him off.
“Don’t thank me. I like you Grand Master, but what I did was for the Path. Not you or anyone else.”
Taul nodded. “That may be. But you wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t had faith in me. When you’ve as much reason to doubt yourself as I did, sometimes the smallest showing of confidence is the greatest of boons.”
He stuck out his hand to the Angel. Devan looked at it, eyebrows raised. Then he grasped it with a vigor that brought a look of dismay to Taul’s face. Jenzara laughed.
“So that’s it?” Ferrin said, not bothering to offer the Angel any greeting, Jenzara noted. “We’ve restored the Path like you said?”