Charlie remained disturbingly quiet, squeezing her eyes shut as certain memories flooded back to her. They flowed and mingled, making it nigh impossible to separate them into their individual selves. The one constant among them was her grandmother berating Adagium like he was some dog. An animal, less than human. And then—SMACK! Charlie recoiled beside Griff, gasping audibly as she touched her own cheek where the memory still stung her.
Griff finally broke the silence, a frown on his face. "Are you—?"
"I'm fine. Just remembering. Marianne, she…"
She fell silent again, trying to make sense of the bitter memories.
No. She didn't have time to dwell on those right now. Marianne wasn't here anymore, and despite wanting to know just how she could have forgotten seeing her grandmother turn from the loving woman she thought she knew into the cruel and malicious 'owner' of the bloodline's immortal protector, Charlie forced herself onto the ladder and disappeared into the darkness.
PART THREE
The Darkness of Memory
I
"Dude, this place is wicked…"
The voice pierced his mind like a silver arrow. Where there had once been nothing but darkness and silence, suddenly there was light. Sound. Awareness.
"I get the feeling we're really not supposed to be in here…"
"Same, but I can't just leave him… Look for a stone that's different than the others."
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The darkness gave way to a soft, blurry, green light. The light coalesced. Focused. He saw. What he saw, he was not sure, but he saw…something. A room of strange stone and white-green lights. Unfamiliar. Foreign.
His awareness expanded. His awareness expanded. There was more than a room. He was on his back, within a pool of softly glowing green liquid. His back rested on a hard surface, leaving his face above the surface of the fluid. The strangely ethereal liquid began to drain, drawing away from his body and leaving him feeling cool. Somewhat cold.
His eyes moved slowly, taking in the glowing dome, and then the larger chamber he was in. The ceiling and walls were some kind of stone or metal. They weren't smooth. Instead, they were covered with swirling patterns. Ripples and wrinkles in the walls that formed circular shapes and maze-like designs. Small lights interspersed around the chamber emanated a soft, orange light. They looked like constellations.
"Hey, I think I found it!"
He sat up. As he did, his body protested. He felt stiff. Heavy. He looked down at himself. Glancing over the countless scars and runic markings and seals, he absently noted that his body was unclothed. Frowning, he considered this as he looked down at himself. Why was he naked? He should be wearing clothes, shouldn't he?
Not just that, but why was he in here? What was this place?
Fragments of memories stabbed viciously at his mind, full of fuzzy shapes and fractured words. Releasing his head, he took one more look around.
"Charlie, this…damn thing…won't budge!"
"Let's both try."
Charlie…?
More memories, their shattered pieces glittering, fusing once more to form a full, cohesive recollection.
He swung his legs over the lip of the now-empty pool he had been lying in and eased himself out. His feet touched the ground. Stone. Cold. His feet felt tender. He eased himself up to stand, and his spine popped audibly as he straightened. He took stock of himself at that moment. Two arms, two legs. Tall. Thin, yet muscular. He reached up, feeling at his head; silver-blonde hair fell down his back. He pulled it over his shoulder. Why was it so long?
He released his hair and looked around again, narrowing his eyes. A small pedestal st nearby, glowing with a light similar to that of the pool he had been lying in. He walked toward this pedestal and, as he approached, he found neatly folded clothes. He grabbed the all-black garments and began to dress.
The room vibrated and the wall before him began to slide down into the floor. Thoughts and dreams and memories all flowed together as one continuous stream. Time became meaningless as light from the room without spilled over the top of the slowly descending wall. There was no way to stop the memories, the emotions—he knew the meaning behind them, and as he closed his eyes, it repeated.
He opened his eyes to see a woman before him.
"Who's there?"
It took a while before he realized he'd spoken. Before he remembered his own voice; low, ancient, broken.
He blinked, but his sight refused to adjust. All he saw was faint light, black shapes, and a pair of eyes that burst with a force of life he'd never before seen. Familiar eyes. Not the fierce, brown eyes of his Master; deep green, humming something just out of earshot—no, it wasn't the eyes that were humming, it was something inside his head. He leaned against the wall, grabbing his head roughly against the song.
"Who's there?" he repeated, while green-eyes stood still and almost frozen. He decided then that it didn't matter, one way or the other. Staring—frozen. He remembered everything. "You don't belong here."
Another voice answered, energetic and not very pleasant to him. "Wait, what? Whaddaya mean we don't belong?"
He frowned; the voice was much too loud. Sound had been absent for too long, save for the almost mute whispers and their strange earthsong inside his head.
"Not so loud, Griff." This voice was soft and gentle. He looked to the woman as she spoke. "I'm glad you're okay."
He turned his head to the tall man, who was half-hidden by shadows. He had mellow brown eyes.
"Man, do you look rough. Girl, are you sure this was a good idea?"
All he could notice was their eyes. He wondered, looking between them, who they were and, more importantly, how they'd come to learn of his slumber.
He struggled to grasp the swirling thoughts in his head. "You must leave. I must apologize…explain…to Master…"
Brown-eyes shifted. "Dude, what are you saying?"
"Leave this place. Before Master finds out."
"If you mean Grandma," green-eyes started, carefully, sounding broken. Just like him. "She's not here anymore. She died three months ago."
He stared. Thoughts were going madly around in his head. "Died?" he repeated. "That is…that is a lie."
Green-eyes shook her head. "I'm not lying! Don't you recognize me? It's me…Charlie."
"…Lie," he croaked. The swirling wouldn't stop. "Lies! Charlotte Rey is a child—"
"Please, stop… It's been nine years. You've been asleep all this time!"
Nine years…?
He sprang forward a single step and collapsed.
I have slept…for nine years?
Green-eyes caught him in one fluid motion before his skull connected with the floor. His breath caught at the warmth enveloping him. He didn't want it to retreat, to leave him with that same absent chill from earlier. He looked toward Charlotte, where he thought that her face must be, and his lips parted wordlessly again.
"I got you," she said gently.
"Are you Charlotte? Truly?" he asked, voice laying low inside the room.
"I am. I'm here. Don't worry, okay?" The light refused still to allow him sight beyond the color of the woman's eyes, but in her words, he could almost hear her soft smile.
I can't believe it…
Damn his sight. He needed to know. He needed it even more, now that he'd awakened from visions and nightmares … This could very well be another, a waking horror he'd never escape, but then… He needed to know.
"Nine years… Charlotte, my sight is… M-may I?" Adagium murmured, already reaching out, as if drawn to Charlotte by a magnetic force. He couldn't hold back.
Instead of replying, she took his hands, fingers smoothing over ancient tattoos and binding runes, and countless centuries' worth of scars. She let him feel her hands for a moment—hands he had once held as the toddler learned to walk, then pulled as the lively preteen pushed herself to climb high up in the trees…then trembled to hold tight as he pulled them both free from Death.
They're…
so different, Adagium noted. Expecting them to be cold and rough, he felt almost blessed at their warmth, their gentleness.
Lovely as it was, he was impatient to shift his attention elsewhere. He couldn't wait for sight that might never return. He needed to know how Charlotte looked. How nine years had changed the face that shared his soul, filled his dreams and memories. He knew the child's features by heart. But if his Master was truly… If Marianne was truly dead, then he needed to know what this woman—his new Master—looked like.
As if sensing exactly what he needed, Charlotte gently guided Adagium's hands upward, resting them tenderly against her cheeks. And then, she moved her own away entirely, giving him free reign with a small smile he could feel against his palms.
Adagium shivered, his heart rate picking up. He was frightened, but it was a different sort of fear, one that lingered in not knowing. He never knew just what to expect when he woke from the healing waters. But to have lost nine years…?
He swallowed, forcing his shaking hands to move slowly, tracing up along the fine contours of cheekbones, her brow, reading every line on Charlie's face as if it held the secrets of the world. Bigger, grown, some of the youthful softness replaced in favor of defined angles. Up around her eyes, all the small, tired lines etched by toil and time.
He currently had no way of knowing, but he hoped her eyes hadn't faded from the misty, emerald brilliance of his memory. So full of light and life. Like the rolling hills and patches of clover in the early morning dew. Like acceptance and comfort, patience and familiarity. He could only hope that they hadn't hardened into fear and loathing.
Astrals help me should these warm hands belong to yet another cruel monster hiding behind a human face.
Warmth gathered behind his own eyes and he swallowed against the lump in his throat as he trailed his fingers back down. And dear Erde, their bond mark. A delicate tree on the very back of her neck, pulsing with the same life and warmth as her hands.
A shocked, wet little laugh escaped him. He shouldn't be surprised; he'd called upon the Great Tree to save them both from Death that night. It was just… He had never broken a bond with a Master before to attach himself to another. He ran his fingers back over the girl's—no, the woman's—face in fascination, the warmth finally spilling from his eyes. Charlotte looked so different.
"Please tell me what happened."
He listened in silence as she told him what little she knew. Whatever gaps her absence left could surely be filled by Lori or Tal, the only other two in town he knew well enough to trust. But…nine years. Secrets. Lies. Murder. A stranger in town? He supposed the blame fell upon his shoulders; had he not slept so long, then perhaps…
The revelation wasn't unexpected, but it did strike him with a cold sort of sorrow. Empty. A lot of time had passed since he'd first served Marianne; but time had been meaningless to him, cursed with eternity.
"Hey," Charlie suddenly said. "Everything okay in there?"
He shook his head. "Forgive me, Master."
"Don't call me that," she said quickly, bitterly. "I'm no one's master. I'm just Charlie, okay? I'm your friend."
He paused, searched his mind. That word came slowly, covered in dust; he hadn't thought he'd use that word to describe anyone ever again. "Please allow me to at least call you Charlotte," he said, feeling the weight of such a familiar name on his tongue.
"That's fine."
Strength flooded his body and he gently removed himself from the woman's hands. He sat, still too dizzy to stand up.
"Since you've come to me, I assume this means you recall who…and what…I am. Your servant, your advisor, your protector. Miss Charlotte, I am Adagium."
"Yeah, of course I remember you. Who wouldn't? But…" The woman's face crinkled with a mix of something he couldn't comprehend as she then said, "Adagium. That's your real name?"
He stared, flinching at the memories bubbling up through soupy darkness. Real name? Master—no, Miss Charlotte—wanted his real name? Looking down then back up, he parted his lips to speak soft words.
"I was called… I am Reiem. I will teach you everything you need to know."
"You really are the real deal, huh, Charlie?" Brown-eyes gave a short, snort-like laugh. "Not sure if you remember me, but I'm—"
"Griffith Bryn Alavai, son of Talus," Reiem said. The boy shared his father's honey eyes in the light; he didn't know why he hadn't felt the familiarity they both exuded until now. Their kindness, even as children, had touched him. It was not something he expected to forget in his dark world.
"Ha, he remembered me."
Reiem heard himself ask, though he hadn't planned to, the question breaking out like water through an ancient dam. "Before her passing, did Mast—did Marianne teach you how to Speak?"
Charlie seemed a little surprised at the quiver of fear in his voice. She shook her head. "Speak? Is it something only Guardians can do? Like magic?"
Reiem blinked; a quick shiver, but quicker denial. He had to show her…everything. "It's the language of the world. The song of the earth and the trees. The sigh of the wind and the waves."
Through his words, Charlie's gaze slowly lowered to the floor.
"I didn't learn… She never taught me anything," she admitted quietly. "I never saw her again after Mom and I moved away. And they never let me learn anything."
"What is the date?"
"April 16th."
"There is plenty of time."
He was tired. Cold. Starving. But Charlie needed her training. If what she said was true, and some stranger truly had killed Marianne—which would have been avoided if only he hadn't been sleeping—Master would still be…
"At summer's end is when your trials begin."
The sun, the snow, her cruelty; in his memory she clung like a starving leech, stubbornly alive in that timeless purgatory. But maybe now he could—
"And you'll—will you be with me all the way?" Charlie asked, surprising Reiem a little; he caught on quickly to the light in her eyes. He nodded, out of words to say.
Except a single question.
"Would you really want something like me by your side?"
"Why wouldn't I? I trust you, Reiem. For better or worse, we're kinda stuck with each other." She added, almost inaudibly, "You're all I have left."
Then…that was good enough. He thought he had woken to a nightmare, yet another sliver shoved into his skin, but couldn't remember why he'd thought that. Perhaps sleeping was his nightmare, and this was a simple but temporary escape. If it was his punishment to be awake then he would gladly suffer, but not before he fulfilled his sentence. For them.
"Hey, Dad's calling me." Griff stepped out of the room.
"You alright to stand?"
Reiem nodded. His body protested yet again as he attempted. Pain flared through him. However, the gentle warmth of Charlie's hands on his arm pushed it all away, and he rose. He looked down at her and, for a moment, they took in each other's gaze. Shadow and light began to give way to shape and texture. A gentle smile. A worried look.
"Yo, Dad's making dinner," Griff said. He poked his head in, phone still to his ear. "You coming, Charlie?"
"I'd like to, but…" She shook her head, long brown hair shaking with it. Looking back to Reiem, she said, "I don't think it would be fair to leave you alone. All cramped up in this little room for the past nine years…"
"Oh," Griff said slowly. Back out into the hall he went, voice hushed.
"Hey, listen. Do you mind…" She cleared her throat. "Do you want to come with me for a while? You know, just to talk? Maybe catch up? It has been quite a while."
"Talk?" Reiem asked, feeling foreign to the concept. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "Catch up?"
"Yeah. There's a lot on my mind." She seemed to have lost her hesitation. She'd known his answer before the words finished coming out of her mouth. Charlie smiled and tugged his hand. Reiem walked with her.
"What're you gonna do?" Griff asked, a muted gloom in his voice. "
Just hang at the house and chill?"
"Something like that."
"Okay," he said. He didn't know what else to say, so he turned and led the way upstairs.
II
Reiem watched Griff go, then followed Charlie as she disappeared through the corridor, the darkness engulfing her. Maybe it would be a simple reprieve after all. He wrapped his arms around his thin form, suddenly feeling so cold. A lot can change in nine years, true, but his eternity refused to allow everything to change.
He felt his vision spin. His heart beat crystal clear within his ears. But why was he so nervous? Everything was as it should be, after all. He was awake; had his new Master to protect. And Miss Charlotte seemed so kind…
Adagium.
A chill erupted within him. Snow. Iron. Blood… The trembling increased as he slowly turned back, eyes roving over the thick shadows beyond where the light could reach. His heart thumped loudly against his ribcage, pounding in his throat, his ears, his soul.
Poor worthless creature.
A slender wisp of a woman stepped from the darkness, clad in the pale clothes of a Guardian who had passed into sagehood. A hood and shawl covered her entire head, except her eyes which burned an otherworldly hue of crimson.
Reiem tensed up, eyes wide. It was her…Marianne, the master he'd been assured was gone. One of the few who instilled such fear into him, back from the bowels where she so rightly belonged. Even now, he could feel the pain boring into his very soul, searching, reaching, burning.
"You are dead," he said quietly, shaking his head as she inched ever closer. He felt the pain becoming a little more tangible as it worked its way through his soul. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as the woman stepped forward, continuing to speak as if he'd said nothing.
You don't have permission to leave.
He couldn’t tell if what he saw was real or a hallucination. The pain—he knew—felt real. Where was Charlie? Where was the tower? The world was black. He hadn't even had a chance to taste the outside air. It was like that suffocating blackness was swallowing him up once more and locking him away—this time forever. Everything was so dark. And it was only Reiem and Marianne that were standing.
The Silence Between Page 11