by Aaron D. Key
“Good night, Monta,” I said, unsure as to the state of his mind.
“You’ve made her really angry,” he replied in the sanest voice I had heard him yet use. “She has left us completely, as I am myself again. How did you manage it?”
“I’m not sure. She accused me of being afraid of her.”
“Shall we take this opportunity to escape back to the path?”
“We may as well sleep here as on the desert path, I think. We’ll escape in the morning, I promise you.”
A reckless promise was my last waking thought.
I was woken by the sound of a woman crying. It made me feel guilty. Had I been too unhelpful, too abrupt? I climbed out of the coffin-like bed by grasping the wooden planks and pulling myself up. I climbed halfway down the steps, wondering what I could say to comfort her, but paused when she stopped crying abruptly as if she had been joined by someone. But it was her voice that spoke.
“What are you doing here and why have you left me with no body?”
“I was bored, Aeth. And I was lonely.”
“I understand how you are feeling. I can’t tell you how bored I am. These years have passed in peaceful tedium and we’ve only half lived.”
I peered around the corner of the staircase to see if there was anyone other than Elena there, just in time to see her vanish. With her, the trappings of the tower disappeared too. I made my way back up the stairs as the heat dropped like a stone.
The conversation I had overheard worried me. It suggested that Aeth was not dead, and as I was there to find Aeth’s murderer the point of my whole journey was called into question. But still I trusted Rael’s insight that my journey was necessary. What did Elena mean, or possibly Aeth, that he had been left with no body? Was Elena mad? Had the years of living alone tainted her mind? I believed that she had power and perhaps she was the one I needed to deal with after all. I remembered the glimpse I had been given of her mind, the wild chaos, and thought that perhaps my suspicion was right.
CHAPTER FIVE
The City
A light lingering veil of fog obscured my mind when I woke in the morning. All was silent in the grey, cold tower and subtly different. The stones and windows looked less well-kept and a fresh breeze blew in from a hole in the roof. I struggled again out of my coffin-like bed and looked around. No Monta. Nothing but the scurrying of mice and the buzzing of flies.
The tower had been abandoned. I made my way downstairs. Here the change was more drastic. Although I had seen signs last night, it was obvious in the daylight. There were no hangings, curtains, rugs, furniture, and no fire. The cats had disappeared. No signs that these things had ever existed. I felt a little lost and directionless. I looked around until I found my belongings fortunately still there where Monta had dropped them by the door through which I had entered only yesterday.
“Monta!” I shouted before I opened the door. I could not leave without him, and yet how would I ever know if he was just an illusion that had vanished with all the other illusions? I thought I heard a distant reply, perhaps from outside through one of the shattered windows. I made my way carefully down the slippery steps. This time there was a little light – both from the top where I had left the door open and from the bottom where the door to the outside stood as a clear rectangular blaze of light.
When I was halfway down, this dimmed slightly as a figure appeared in it.
“Good morning!” Monta greeted me, and a weight of guilt fell from me knowing that he had finally escaped, as I had recklessly promised. I continued cautiously down the slippery steps and eventually met the ground with joy.
Monta waited outside the wooden door sitting by a small fire, over which were roasting some small rodents.
“All the food has gone,” he said in explanation.
“I’ve got some in my bag.” I scrambled quickly to see if I could find something more appetising.
“Thank goodness!” He laughed. “I wasn’t convinced about these animals, but they were the only ones slow enough for me to catch.”
Monta was a different man now, in the daylight, in full control of his faculties. He seemed to have a sense of humour, which surprised me because of the hints I had been given about the place he had come from. He looked older in the strong light of day. He gave the appearance of skin without flesh; of bones without muscle. In his eyes there was a haunted look that gave me a distaste for the methods of the enemy but more often than not this was replaced with optimism and strength, and when it was, I felt like I had found a friend worth having.
I debated internally finishing our journey the quick way, but I wanted to find out what I was walking into and talking to Monta seemed like the best way.
After a relaxing meal, in which we even tested the results of his cooking with unexpected relish and made inroads into the water supply I had brought with me, we continued to walk. We found the path without incident. Stepping back onto it and passing through the scarcely perceptible boundary was comforting. It was evident, though, that I had lost something of the full protection of the path. I could feel heat and cold now, see light and dark. No longer did it feel like walking through candyfloss. I had had my fill of unreal illusions and this dose of reality tasted on my lips as pleasing as the first juice of a bursting grape.
“Do you remember anything about your stay in the tower?” I asked, still trying to learn something of the enemy.
“I remember quite clearly the day that I left the path and made my way to the tower. I knew that I was being reckless and yet compulsion drove me on. It was a deliberate trap, I know now, but even if I had known it then I do not believe that I could have resisted the call to go to the tower. I remember seeing Elena and thinking that I had never seen anyone more beautiful or more evil, and then my memory fades. The next thing I remember is recalling your name and watching you listening to that sorceress lie. She blinded me with sudden pain and drove my recollections from me with a blasting frost. My suspicions of her were deep and true. I believe that she was not real, not alive, just a ghost with no control over her physical presence, called forth and sent by Glant, I think. I don’t even know how long I was there in the tower. It felt like months, but as I don’t believe anything there was real I would have died of hunger if it had been.”
“Can you tell me anything about Glant?” I asked. “What is he like? Where did he come from and how did he defeat Aeth?”
“All we have are stories. There is no one left who remembers it happening. Glant has lived longer than lifetimes. They say that once, when time was young – when Rael still walked and was made of flesh as weak as we are – Glant was there on our side of the desert. When Aeth and his followers trailed across the desert, looking like the remains of a noble race, he was already there, and when Aeth began to show that there was more in him than padded bones it was his eyes that glared most balefully. Aeth was found lying as solid as a stone statue with an expression on his face of both hatred and fear. It was Glant who sneered at that face and who would not be moved. So, the people believed that he was responsible.”
Aeth was dead, I noted. Perhaps Elena talked to him to keep her guilt at bay? But how did Glant fit into this story?
“Stories tell that he grew, as no man should have the right to, in power and ambition and degradation. He fell a thousand times further than Aeth had been destined to fall with the curse of Rael written across his forehead, and still he falls.
“The people turned their backs on him. But sometimes we even wonder if the stories we tell are right. My friend Koa believes there was just one day – not so long ago – that we were all born, out of nothing, in the bodies we are in. He said he had a dream. None of us remember anything of the time before, so he might be right. Glant has been there since we were born. He is like a father to us all, but not a loved father: capricious, incomprehensible, and mostly unkind.”
“We knew nothing of this,�
�� I said, as if I defended myself.
“How could you?” Monta continued. “There were no voices to cry across the empty miles. We were so busy fighting that we didn’t think there might be another way. We had begun to realise at last that our efforts were futile and that we were doomed to fail because we were fighting a power that was beyond normal human gifts when Rael came. He reminded us of his own descendants, whom we had forgotten as they had forgotten us.”
“Rael was tortured. Why would Glant do this?”
“I can’t say why. I only know what is. None of us have been free from pain from the moment we were born. I would struggle to find a motive for anything that Glant does, unless it is that he is mad.”
“Perhaps he is.” I was confused but agreed out of politeness.
“Do you mind me asking if you know how you will defeat him?”
I grimaced. “No. I have met nothing like this before. Nothing or no one who can use a power like mine against me. I hope that discipline and experience will help, and for some luck as well.”
“You are our only hope,” Monta said. “If you fail then our world will have failed. You can’t fail, and a reliance on luck scares me.”
I continued. “Rael told me to come and help you, so I have to. I believe that Rael knows what he is doing and that he believes in my ability to help you. That is enough for me. I can’t leave Glant or Elena floundering in the morass of their own weaknesses. I pity them, as I pity those they torment.”
There was a quickening of expression in Monta’s eyes as if he disagreed with my opinion, but he masked it and said, “If Rael believes, then I suppose I must too.” Monta smiled. “I know he was only a sort of memory, but his visit changed our lives and gave us a hope that we had never experienced before.”
We walked for the rest of that day, stopping briefly for food and water.
I said, just realising, “Monta, you do not need to come back with me all the way to Glant. I can find the way on my own now. I have a clear picture in my mind of the place that I am heading for. I could send you to Herron. You would be made welcome there.”
Monta looked through me, disconcertingly placid, and said “I couldn’t stay anywhere remaining in ignorance of what happens to my friends. I will come with you and share whatever fate awaits us. And if you have the power to send people anywhere, perhaps you could shorten our journey?”
“I could.” I smiled, feeling guilty about my reluctance to hasten the confrontation. “But I still do not understand what Glant is. I need you to keep talking to me. What is it like on the other side of the wall?”
“It is a beautiful wooded paradise,” Monta answered. “As far as I know the woods go on forever, but they never become a forest. There are too many clearings and too much sunlight.”
“It sounds very pleasant,” I said, surprised. “Do you live in the woods then?”
“Glant normally lives in the woods in the same wooden cabin he has always lived in. The rest of us live in an underground labyrinth of caves.”
“And is this for protection, for safety?” I asked, puzzled as to why anyone would exchange beautiful sunlit days for the dark, airless existence that this description conjured up.
“Being surrounded by stone dulls the pain,” Monta said. “Especially when Glant is away in the woods and thinking of other things. I am one of the few who can walk outside without being crippled by the pain. I may be the only one. That’s why I was chosen to try and find you. In the city sometimes it becomes almost bearable and you can think of normal life, of normal things.”
“So, the torture that Glant inflicts upon you is continuous and affects everyone simultaneously?” I frowned. This was not what I had been expecting.
Monta nodded.
“Does Glant ever threaten you or taunt you with the pain?” I asked.
“When you are near him it is impossible to hear, or listen, or concentrate on anything else. Any threats would be irrelevant.”
We carried on walking. I was not good company and Monta was silent beside me. I was trying to make sense of this new information and struggling.
“I think I have told you everything I know.” Monta shrugged. “You need to talk to Koa. He understands more, I think. Glant is sometimes kind to him, and sometimes not. I believe he knows more than any of us.”
He looked at me in a contemplative way. “Are you ready to go to the city now?”
I smiled and nodded, still reluctant to hasten the confrontation. “Tomorrow.”
He looked reassured. Once the sunlight had completely faded we tried to make ourselves comfortable on the path. The cold desert wind howled around us, penetrating bitterly like the caress of a lonely ghost. The new clothes I had been given in the tower were designed for indoors and did nothing to stop the exploration of the wind. I had extra layers and blankets in my bag that we shared, and we gathered a small barrier of stones, pulling some dried herbs from the edge of the path to make an inadequate mattress and blanket. I gathered all the available wood for a small fire. We climbed into our burrows like small, inelegant animals and waited for the fire to be established. I dropped off quickly but when the fire died down was soon woken by the bitter cold that settled in my bones and wouldn’t leave. I had to get up again to add more wood to the fire and to find more substantial plants with weight and dampness. These I piled on top of the dry layer and once again crawled inside to finally find sleep.
* * *
The next morning, I woke with the sun shining on my face with an unhealthy heat like a feverish sweat. The faint heat was a relief from the bitter chill of the night. Monta stirred as I woke up. We pulled off the dried herbs and added them in batches to the warm ashes of the fire so that they burned in sudden fragrant rushes. We ate well from the contents of my bag, knowing that this would be the last day of travelling.
“I should ask to be taken wherever Koa is?” I checked with Monta. He nodded.
I had a sudden moment of doubt. Travelling from Rael’s Hill was not necessary, but it had become part of my life, almost a superstition, like touching wood for luck or avoiding walking under ladders. It had become an extra safeguard that the rational mind knew wasn’t needed but still relied upon. Even the journey to see Elena had been taken from Rael’s Hill and I was nervous about would happen without this extra security. Monta was looking at me with hope so I could delay no longer.
I asked to be taken to Koa, using the image resting in Monta’s mind for clarification.
* * *
We found ourselves on the edge of a black cliff with a copse of slender young trees behind us. When I had acclimatised, I realised there was a hole in the cliff face and a man on the ground sat just in sunshine.
He started up when he saw us but with a smile on his face. Monta groaned and sank beside me. The man in the cave jumped up and ran towards him. Then he too sank to his knees, holding his head.
Monta stumbled up and caught the other man under his arms. He tried to drag him towards the cave.
“Help me,” he croaked, and I didn’t recognise his voice. I ran towards him but before I reached them, he was back in the tunnel again and both men recovered enough to sit and shake their heads. They sat in silence for a while and I was reluctant to disturb them although I had many questions.
“It’s good to see you again, Monta.” The man spoke apparently no worse for his experience. I assumed it was Koa. “Is this Damon Ich? Your journey was successful?”
“How long was I gone for?” Monta answered.
“Three days. I wasn’t expecting you yet, although I have been on the lookout every morning.”
“Three days?” Monta repeated and he sounded devastated.
“What happened to you both just then?” I interrupted their conversation, confused.
“This is our torture. I’d forgotten what it felt like. When I am in control I can bear it, but most people can
’t outside the city walls. This is Koa, by the way. Koa, this is Damon Ich.”
I acknowledged the introduction and looked at him properly. A man of average height with a tangled beard. There were some streaks of grey in his otherwise black hair and lines around his smiling eyes. He was dressed in rags. But his eyes, the most prominent feature, were startling blue and appeared to be laughing. I assumed he was happy to have his friend back and hopefully to see me.
“I may be able to help, if you can explain what you’re feeling,” I said, feeling useless.
“It is torture. It is pain,” Monta answered. “It fills my mind and blackens my soul … You are immune to it … That is good.”
His breathing was short and constrained as if he remembered it. I was thoughtful.
“Does this mean that he knows you are here?” I asked.
“Not necessarily. It is not directed at me. It affects everyone, or at least we thought so – thankfully not you.”
“I’ll try and stop it but first I have to understand it. Can we rest here a while and see if I can learn anything?”
Koa looked at me, dubious. Monta grimaced agreement and we sat down in the entrance to the cave, looking over the pleasant sunlit clearing.
“Would you mind going outside, suffering it again, and letting me listen to your thoughts?” I asked Monta. “All you need to do is to relax and think of something you would not mind me listening in on. I mean to concentrate on Glant’s influence, but it is impossible to be completely disciplined.”
“Go ahead,” Monta said. He lurched out of the stone walls with an air of stoic resolution. Koa looked as if he was tempted to stop him, but he restrained himself.
I followed Monta, closed my eyes, and let calmness surround me. Listening to the uneven pattern of my breathing, I forced it to calm and to become no more than the waves of the gentle lake at Herron rippling over my floating body.
Leaving my physical shape, my mind waited, enjoying the precious moment of inactivity and freedom, before focusing and aiming for the raw, red wound it saw gaping nearby. This was Monta’s pain. I gasped, shocked by the intensity, and flickered suddenly to a view of the desert path, walking and walking. A strange pleasure, my conscious mind could not help judging before it braced itself once more.