Spirit's End

by A. R. Knight

  “I speak many tongues,” Cheo said. “I have to collect many spirits, teach them and train them. As I find new ones, I endeavor to learn. When time is no object, mastering a new skill is not so daunting.”

  “And Mali? Will she understand us?”

  “Mali will hear what she wants to hear. That is why you must choose your words with care.”

  Not really an answer, but as with most things Mali, it seemed like the only way we would know was when we met her face-to-face. Around us, the jungle shifted from its copycat form. Where similar trees had grouped together, now arced large trunks with spiraling bark. Mushrooms bloomed up to our waists. Flowers, static without any breeze, stood straight up and searched for any sunlight picking through.

  “Mali’s garden,” Cheo observed. “What energy she expends is focused here, closest to her.”

  “Beautiful.” Selena went over to one of the flowers, a purple and black menagerie with long, spindly petals. She ran her hand along the ends, then frowned. “It’s hard. Not soft, like a flower should be.”

  I took a turn, ran a finger along the edge. The petal felt like stone. Rough and scratching. When I pressed on it, the flower didn’t move. Cheo, standing behind us, said nothing and frowned.

  “Can I say I’m uneasy?” Selena said as we continued our walk.

  “You can. I’d even agree with you,” I replied. “Whatever Nara expected Mali to be, I don’t think this was it.”

  “Keep that sword of yours handy.”

  “Always.” I wasn’t lying either. My hands had taken to resting themselves on the hilt of the lash, the long knife. Comfort in the thought that no matter what sprung out at me, I’d have a decent chance of sticking it first.

  Such was our world.

  Our single file walk ended with a rock wall. Only, unlike the black mossy vines that covered the rest of the canyons, this section, maybe two hundred feet wide, was carved out in gold. Or at least, rock that looked like it. Every square inch molded into one symbol or another. Characters I didn’t recognize, swoops in lines and diagonals looping around each other. Some carried on for yards, climbing up to the very top where the leafy canopy brushed up against it. All of it sparkling as various spots of light slipped their way through and bounced off. An opening, twenty feet wide, yawned at us. Bordered on the edges by set stone. No light came from that cave, only a deep night. Alongside the entry stood a pair of pillars, on which the same four characters repeated from top to bottom.

  “I’m guessing that’s her name?” I said.

  “My goddess is not a humble one.” Cheo gestured at the face of the temple, the patterns laid into the rock. “Before, we brought spirits here for the collection. This served as their first introduction to the greatness they were going to see. Until Mali tired of the ceremony.”

  “There are so many symbols on these walls.” Selena stared at the columns, and I watched her eyes move along the etchings. “They’re hard to understand.”

  “You can read these symbols at all?” I said.

  “It’s in an old tongue,” Cheo said. “I no longer hear any spirits speakings its language. Earth must have forgotten it.”

  “I can’t read it, Carver.” Selena walked up to the left pillar, traced her hand along the carved runes. “But I’ve seen the symbols before. In museums.”

  “Do you know what it says?” I asked Cheo.

  Our guide ran his eyes along temple’s exterior. I chose to call it the temple because that’s what it seemed to be. Mali’s place of power. A goddess’s place of strength.

  “My translation is imperfect,” Cheo said. “But I believe it says that this domain belongs to the maker. This world belongs to the one who built it. All those who do not recognize its brilliance, you are not wanted. Those who wish to pay their respects, enter and be recognized.”

  “I’m sensing arrogance is a thing with Mali,” I said.

  “That may be all she has left,” Cheo replied. “If you have come to offer something Mali wants, you will fare better.”

  “I have no idea if Mali wants what we’re offering.”

  “Who wouldn’t want an invitation to walk through a bunch of dead grain to meet with a creepy old spirit?” Selena said.

  “We’re not giving her a choice,” I replied. “She’s coming with us.”

  Cheo looked at the both of us, confused. I shook my head, and nodded towards the doorway.

  “Shall we?” I said.

  “Before we go in,” Cheo said. “I would caution you; be careful and courteous, or be prepared to face the fury of a goddess.”

  “Cheo, anyone ever tell you how good you are at giving ominous warnings?” I said. “Selena and I have seen the worst Riven has to offer. I think we can handle it.”

  “For your sake, I hope so,” Cheo said.

  We followed Cheo through the entry, into Mali’s temple.

  Into the dark.

  Chapter 17

  As a child, I’d been scared of the dark for years. I think it had something to do with moving all the time. Never having a parent or someone that I could crawl into bed with, someone to chase away those phantom monsters. Instead I’d had one gruff guide after another, people whose nights were spent in another world. Who, when I cried out because of some nightmare, did not wake up. Did not come to comfort me or drive away my fears.

  It took me more years than I care to admit to come to own my terrors. To fight the shadows. The night became a battleground, a place where I waged endless wars with the black corners of my room. When I started crossing into Riven, the spirits added shape to the monsters I’d been warring with for years.

  So as we stepped into Mali’s temple, as the details slipped away until only the silhouette of the door behind us was visible, I refused to be afraid. Refused to fear what I could not see. I placed my hand on Selena’s shoulder, and felt Selena put her hand on mine. We walked side-by-side.

  “Have to say,” I said, my voice sounding strange in the dark. Disembodied; coming from everywhere and nowhere. “I love the ambiance.”

  “There used to be lights,” Cheo said. “Burning torches that never went out. Mali tired of the paintings.”

  “The paintings?” Selena said.

  “Hold on,” I said. I reached down to my belt, pulled out the long knife, and twisted its hilt. Blue fire wrapped the weapon, and lit up the hallway in its pale glow. Around us the walls burst forth with colorful images. Finely detailed strokes outlining landscapes and telling stories. Three figures repeated among all of them. Two women and a man. One woman with silver hair, one with black. The man had none.

  One painting on the left wall showed the trio standing on a disk surrounded by lava. Or some other glowing, hideous liquid. The next one showed the three of them marveling at the land around them, the dark-haired woman’s arms raised to the sky. On solid ground, a mountain soaring in the distance.

  “Who made these?” I said. “Mali?”

  “I don’t know,” Cheo said. “They have always been here. Since before even I. If Mali made these, then they were the only ones she ever painted.”

  The fire on my knife went out. It was not a torch - it would only burn for seconds at a time. I reset the hilt and was about to twist it again when Cheo, in the dark, put his hand on my wrist.

  “Please,” he said. “You come as a guest. It is best to obey the host’s wishes. If Mali wants these paintings hidden, it is best that they remain so.”

  “And if I want to see them?” I said.

  “Do it after I am gone,” Cheo said, and I could hear his grin. “That way Mali will know who to blame.”

  I thought about it. True, I didn’t want to annoy Mali either, but I wanted another look at those paintings. What they seemed to show. Three spirits, and one with Nara’s silver hair. Mali, perhaps, the other woman, the one appearing to make the world. Who the man was, I had no idea. Nara had mentioned a name, Dolan?

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked Selena.

  “Carver,
I learned a long time ago never to assume you and I are thinking the same thing,” Selena replied.

  “Fair point. When we get out of here, let’s talk.”

  “We’ve got a long walk back to the city. Plenty of time.”

  Cheo ushered us along. Further down the dark path. I could feel the walls closing around me. The stone floor shuffled with the scuffing of our boots. No other sounds played out. No flowing water, no rustling of a breeze. No crackle of far-off flame. Riven was never a loud place, unless you were in a pitched fight with howling spirits or standing next to a building as it finally succumbed to the slow collapse of the place. But the passage achieved a new silence altogether. As though I’d truly died, as if all of my senses had disappeared.

  I bumped into Cheo’s back. Our guide had stopped.

  “We are nearly there,” Cheo said. “When I enter her chamber, I will cease to be myself.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “I am Mali’s subject,” Cheo replied. “Under her rule, and her will. Do not interrupt. After it is done, you will have your chance. I wish you every bit of luck.”

  “You won’t stay?”

  “I will do as Mali wills,” Cheo said. “I do not think it likely that, after all of these years, she will have changed. It has been a pleasure to know the both of you. May the Goddess grant you good fortune.”

  “Not sure we want her blessing,” Selena muttered. Cheo didn’t reply. He started walking again and we followed.

  I almost didn’t notice the light. Didn’t realize that the walls fell away as we walked into a larger chamber. A room with twin pools on either side. One glowing a faint blue and the other a lime green. A stone pathway ran between them. It led to a dais, on which, in a chair, sat the goddess we were seeking. INext to her, resolute and and staring at us with non-existent eyes on its metal face, stood a ghoul. Its golden skin shimmered in the pools’ light. The ghoul wore a tunic coated in jewels, a rainbow of gemstones. Two arms, two legs, each a pillar of precious metal. As though Mali had molded the ghoul from both spirits and the earth.

  Mali herself sported a silver dress, one that flowed around her and the throne on which she sat like liquid mercury. She wore no crown, sported no jewels. As if she didn’t want to compete in opulence with her own ghoul.

  Cheo kept walking as we stared. Left us standing there gawking at Mali’s chamber. He took five steps forward and dropped to one knee, placed his hands on the ground and lowered his eyes to the floor.

  “As it ever is, I have returned,” Cheo announced. His voice dropped any friendly affectation. Every syllable pronounced as though giving an official notice. As though pronouncing, sentencing someone to their death.

  “As it ever is,” Mali replied from her throne. She spoke with a light voice, earnest. A person trying to seem more excited than they really were. Disguising the weight of her centuries.

  “Shall I perform the rite?” Cheo said.

  “Ten thousand times,” Mali spoke softly. “Ten thousand times, Cheo, you have led the Left Hand to victory. And ten thousand times, you have conquered my realm for the Right Hand. It seems you are my greatest creation.”

  Ten thousand times? Both the Left Hand and the Right? I wanted to ask questions, but the idea of interrupting felt so far removed from any aspect of politeness, that I felt rooted to the spot. Unable to tear my eyes away from these two. From a goddess and her servant.

  “I have fought many battles for you,” Cheo said. “I will fight however many more you choose for me.”

  “I wonder, my Cheo, why you keep on winning?” Mali said. “Every time I pass the mantel to a new spirit, you wind up the victor. Are you truly the best that time has ever seen?”

  “It is because you give me the strength I need.”

  “Yes,” Mali replied, leaning forward in her chair and giving Cheo a glittering smile. “As long as I live, so will you. No matter how dangerous your duty becomes, so long as I am here, you will return victorious.”

  “As it ever is,” Cheo said.

  Mali nodded and Cheo stood, went over to the lime green pool and dipped in his hand. Took a sip of the water. Shivered.

  “I stand for the Right Hand,” Cheo announced to the chamber. “With your blessing, I shall destroy the Left Hand. I will end their vicious attempts to hurt you. To damage your kingdom.”

  “Go then, and seek their most deserved doom,” Mali replied.

  Cheo turned to her, bowed, and then marched past us. I thought about stopping him, but it didn’t look like our friend lived anymore in those eyes. The Cheo that had brought us here was gone.

  Chapter 18

  Have you ever had an elder stare at you? A look from someone who seems know who you are and who you would become?

  When Mali turned her gaze to us from Cheo’s departing back, I felt those eyes. Her Riven-gray colored pupils on me. They ran to and from every inch of my soul. And when Mali slid over to Selena I’d be lying if I didn’t say I relaxed.

  But exchanging stares wasn’t going to get us anywhere.

  “Mali,” I said. “Nara sent us. We need you to come work with her to save Riven.”

  Mali sat back on her throne. Her fingers bounced constantly up and down, as though playing a piano that no one could see. I watched her eyes flick towards me. Instead of matching mine, Mali’s look landed somewhere over my shoulder. In a space and time far away from the temple in which we stood.

  “Nara sent you,” Mali said. “Are you certain?”

  “The woman in the field of grain,” Selena replied. “Riven is falling apart, and she said you could help save it.”

  Mali laughed. A sort of strange, despairing chuckle that comes when someone hears about yet another folly committed by a notorious friend. Another error in an endless series of mistakes. Where redemption is so far gone that the only reaction is a sad chuckle.

  Then Mali, goddess of her own making, stuck out her arms, palms up, and began to hum. The water in each of the pools started to rise up, droplets breaking free of of the rest, hanging in the air like diamonds. Then the drops shifted to the center, over the walkway and between Mali and us.

  They formed a square, a moving sheet of water hanging in the air. The droplets began to shift, re-arrange themselves. Some combining to darken their color and others splitting, becoming lighter. Until before my eyes sat an image like that of the painting in the hallway. A deep green disk on which stood a trio of blue figures. Two women and a man. Around them a sea of light blue, nearly transparent water.

  The water moved, blue droplets gathering and weaving through the green. Smaller figures. Blue lines stepping off and scattering away.

  “I think that’s the Cycle,” Selena said, and I agreed.

  The parade of spirits continued as the three figures watched. Then one of the women appeared to reach out with her hand, to touch one of the blue lines. The droplets stopped their walk across the green disk. Waited until the blue figure pointed above. Then droplets marched their form up and off of the disk. Once more, they scattered into the transparent sea.

  Now the second woman moved, tracing her hand along the outside of the green disk. More drops from the green pool raced up to join the water curtain, adding their color to the expanding disk. Widening it until nearly all the transparent water had been pushed off the edge. As the disk grew, the first woman continued reaching out and touching the smaller blue spirits, keeping them in a large huddle. Building an army.

  The transparent water, the Cycle, had almost been removed from the curtain entirely when the male figure reached out. Pointed to the first woman’s growing group of spirits. At the wandering blue lines that no longer had a place to go. The second woman shifted, her arms corralling the Cycle into a small circle and sending it to the left side of the watery curtain. Surrounding it in a triangle of deep green. The Mountain, and the Cycle within it.

  I noticed now, wandering through the curtain of water, more deep blue figures appeared. Not so large as the main three, but mo
re defined than the spirits. The man reached out to those figures, and each one he touched seemed to alight their hands and arms in light blue drops. The pale wrangling fire. The first woman, the one with the expanding army of thin blue figures, grew agitated. Some of the thin blue figures surrounded one of the man’s burning allies. And quenched it. This prompted the man to send his other servants after the woman’s army. They clashed around the disk, with many of the woman’s thin blue figures racing off towards the mountain as they fought.

  Meanwhile, the green disk changed. Instead of a flat and uniform surface, everywhere the second woman brushed her hand, new features arose. The green lightened and darkened, clustered and shifted to form a familiar outline. A map I knew all too well.

  “This is Riven’s history,” I said. “How it came to be.”

  “But who are they?” Selena said, pointing past me at the three figures. “I get that the one making all the green things, that must be Mali.”

  “The other two? I don’t know.”

  “You think the other woman is Nara?”

  “The one binding all the spirits?” I said. “Possibly.”

  That would explain how Nara knew so much about bindings. If she had been the first one to learn, with centuries to perfect and perform the process. Only in this rendition, it almost looked like Nara was the evil one. Her army of spirits fighting constantly against the man’s smaller, pale-fire-wielding force.

  In the water play, it looked as though the man and first woman had fought themselves to a stalemate, an equal line of figures continually replacing and destroying each other. The second woman, Mali, moved apart from them and watched. The view changed. Zoomed in on the city, the droplets shifting and expanding to show alleys and blocks. Thin blue figures moving and appearing to work with each other. Spirits running a town. Moving carts of goods, illustrated in green droplets. Operating stores. Gathering together.

  Then, from the left and north sides, came the deep blue figures and their pale-fire arms. Streaming down through the streets and burning away the spirits. Sometimes they appeared to smash through buildings, scattering green droplets. The swirling battles went on for a while, until the view shifted out again. The smaller figures vanished entirely, reforming into the man and first woman, standing on a green plain. They grappled, their fingers locking with each other. Behind them, the green shifted and broke, droplets scattering and forming themselves back together.