“She means the model of Wilmamen’s sword.” Haustis’ response to the woman’s request came quickly, with barely a breath passing between the handler’s last words and Haustis’ first.
Lydria held her hand up, the small dagger-length double-bladed sword grasped in her fist, it’s blue heart glowing. Even without her hands grasping the hilt Lydria felt it pull her toward the boat. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it to her side.
“The living man who crossed the lake did not resist his weapon. It leads him, likely, to his own doom; and possibly, toward doom for us all. That you carry such a weapon, and that you resist its pull speaks well for you and your quest. However, I name the weapon as my price for your passage.”
“We believe this weapon is needed to stop the living man you provided passage for,” Lydria’s collar glowed slightly as she added magic to her words in the hopes the appeal might find a home with the handler. “His doom, as you say, is also known as the Sword of True Death, and until we can find him and stop him, he may harm untold numbers in the land of the living as well as in the Melting Grae or the Nethyn Plains.”
“Those in the Nethyn Plains would welcome the coming of the Sword of True Death, for in truth, the price for passage for those who travel the lake, is their ability to take their final journey. In the Nethyn Plains they will remain forever. Even paradise becomes a prison if you are there long enough. Your doom is my price. You will find no alternative path to your destination.”
Seeing no choice but to comply, Lydria held the hilt of the weapon toward the handler, who gripped the silver embossed hilt and stiffened almost immediately. The blue fire that outlined the blades and the blue groove that ran down the middle of the blades pulsed brilliantly, causing the stars in the handler’s trousers to glow as if each was lit by its own candle behind a blue prism. The handler reached out and put her right hand on top of her left, steadying the blade until its point faced upward, and slowly the blue tint in the air drained away, leaving the handler holding the blade in her left hand and a small blue sphere in her right.
“This I will return to you, for it has no place here, but I sense within it a power that will change your world and eventually my own. How that may happen I do not know, but it gives me something to think upon. Be wary of who you offer this stone to – the true nature of its power is not, perhaps, what you think.
“Now that payment has been made, you likewise have no place here by G’Brin’s shack. It is time to take your passage to the Nethyn Plains.”
Lydria took the Stone of Power and rejoined it with the others, and magically concealed the sphere. Once Hokra and Haustis had boarded the boat, Lydria followed, stepping gently onto the wide, pale wooden planks, expecting them to pitch to the side as her weight shifted the keel. Like the water itself, however, the boat remained unmoved by her arrival and she chose to remain standing, like both Hokra and Haustis before her, convinced that the ride would be as equally uneventful.
Without a sound or movement from the handler, they began to move, clearing the dock and gliding smoothly across the lake with no hint of pitch or roll from the water. The handler carried no oar or stick, and how she moved the boat they couldn’t tell, but it was obvious she was responsible for its actions. As the handler turned slowly to face them, the boat slowed, coasting along the water but no longer hurrying through. Her eyes widened ever so slightly to find them all standing.
“You honor me,” she said, indicating their stance as a form of respect. “Honor, humility, and free will? I hope behind these traits there is more mettle than kind words. In the Nethyn Plains, honor, humility, and free will may be mistaken for cowardice, arrogance, and servitude.”
“How long will the journey to the Nethyn Plains take?” Hokra’s question came as he leaned over the shallow side of the boat, his voice higher and faster, as the small boat moved without pause into deep, dark water.
“Our journey takes as long as is necessary. Usually, only moments, but the boat will carry us until we need to stop.” Seeing the livings were not going to interrupt, the handler continued, looking to the dull blackness of the weapon in her hand. “This weapon, and the doom carried by the living man you seek, could have only been designed by one person; a person of the Nethyn Plains who has ever eclipsed all others in his adherence to The Grey.”
Haustis looked at the handler and asked if it was not an Eifen by the name of Wilmamen who had made the sword and its smaller copy.
“She is likely capable of crafting such a weapon, but she did not design it. No, the weapon was designed by Vul Griffis, who is Master of the Nethyn Plains. The Nethyn Plains were built for him by those of this world who saw his evil had transcended death. The design of this weapon fairly reeks of his influence.”
As if her words were a cue, the boat stopped. It happened suddenly but did not jerk them or cause them to lose their balance. Where they sat unmoving on the lake was far further than it should have been – there was no land to be seen in any direction, even though it felt like they hadn’t traveled long enough to be out of sight of the dock. At least, Lydria told herself, they would not have traveled so far on Eigrae, but as she had been told numerous times already, there was no saying how long they had been on the boat.
Hokra let out a satisfied breath and Lydria followed his eyes over the edge of the boat. Beneath them, creatures larger than any they had ever dreamed possible floated serenely in the cool waters of the Melting Grae. Even the dragons, Lydria had to admit, would be dwarfed by what she saw beneath the boat. “I knew there had to be something in these waters,” Hokra muttered.
The handler paused a moment for Hokra to return his attention to her and she spoke again.
“No being of the Melting Grae, nor of the Nethyn Plains may survive in the waters of the Placid Abyss beyond the small area of the coast. It is how we keep the Nethyn Plains and the Melting Grae separate. This boat is the only way between the two and only I may control it.”
The handler turned to the water, the side of her head with long flowing hair turned to the passengers, and she opened her mouth wide and let forth a rapid burst of high-pitched noises that escaped her throat and careened off the smooth surface of the water. In what seemed like seconds, but could have been longer, the water a long distance away rose from the surface to form a wall higher than any city or castle spire Lydria had ever seen, and then the wall began to move toward their small boat, getting larger every moment. The water made barely a ripple as the gigantic form pushed its way through, the water falling off its slick, dark hide back into the sea and stillness.
As quickly as it rose from the sea and moved toward them, it stopped, towering above and blocking out much of the day’s never-ending light. After a short trill from the handler, it started to sink and Lydria could see it was a beast, its glistening scales falling so that it seemed to rain armor. While Lydria watched the leviathan, Hokra looked to the water, fascinated by the depths to which it sank, until it finally stopped and its eyes, which were as large as Hokra’s head, met them at the water’s surface. As the beast rested easily beside the boat, the water began to churn, and small waves rippled the surface. Lydria imagined the size of the fins far beneath them that made possible such turmoil on the surface of the unnaturally still lake.
The handler watched her passenger’s eyes scan the beast and the change in the water before turning their eyes back to her. “The arts and cunning of Vul Griffis can be felt in the darkness of this blade, but all that is made can be unmade. This is Komesoh, the great father of all the creatures. Much moves beneath the water that allows him to stay still while above the water and even the Placid Abyss will roil for Komesoh. I have asked him here to help me. He will take the weapon of Vul Griffis to the very depths of this sea, further down than any has ever climbed. Only the great leviathan can make the journey as only he and his kin may live in the Placid Abyss.”
The handler held the blade in front of her, carefully holding it by the hilt and avoiding its black blad
es. “It is, truth be told, a beautiful thing – as such terrors usually are. Wilmamen was a master, but the soul of this weapon is tainted by Vul Griffis, and so it must not be permitted among man, living or dead.”
The handler, held the weapon on her right side, the blades pointed toward her feet, trilled again and the leviathan rose slightly and unhinged its enormous maw, a giant chasm that Lydria and her friends could have walked through holding hands and standing tall with no hope of reaching the roof of the beast’s mouth or its sides. Lydria was mesmerized by small whirlpools of water that slipped over the beast’s lower jaw and into its mouth. When its mouth was fully open her gaze shifted to three rows of teeth like tree stumps that lined the creature’s jaw. From between these teeth a large pink tongue rolled over the side of the boat and the handler carefully turned the weapon and placed its hilt on the center of the gargantuan tongue before moving back to her position at the bow. When the creature closed its mouth, she trilled again, and it sank un-noticed beneath them, the busy surface water falling quickly to a standstill and Lydria realized they were moving again. A breath later, there was land rising from the horizon to greet them.
With land in sight, the handler was quiet. Hokra took the silence as a cue to lie in the boat, his hands cradling the back of his head like a melon. Haustis stared intently at the back of the handler and then stepped to stand beside her.
“Spirit, what is your name?”
If it was possible for the handler to stand taller, she did, as if for a moment she didn’t believe she had heard the question correctly.
“I have no name. On Eigrae I perished as a babe, and here I was allowed to choose a form, but a name was not provided. Why do you ask?”
“You have been kind to us, and you have helped us. We would like to thank you by name.”
“You are kind as well, and your concern is generous, though I fear misplaced. None who I pick up, and none whom I drop off ever see me again, and most never remember that I ferried them to the golden dock that awaits. While it is kind of you to ask, you have no need of my name, as I have no need of yours.”
9-The Beach
The dismissal of Haustis’ attempt to know the handler better, was followed up by a more pressing question from Lydria, “Do you know the land where we go? Is there someone there who might help us?”
“I have never set foot on the soil of the Nethyn Plains, nor do I hope to ever do so. As to where you go – I would search for Vul Griffis. If he designed the doom your prey carries, it is likely the weapon tries to find its master. If not Vul Griffis, then perhaps it seeks she who forged it. Other than these two, I can provide no counsel unless your quarry seeks another who resides in the Plains.
“I will offer, however, this. Be quick in your search and be swift in your judgment. Staying overly long among the Nethyn Plains could lead to ruinous effect should you be so fortunate as to find your way among the living again.”
As far away as the land had seemed a moment earlier, when Lydria looked away from the handler, the far horizon was upon them and the handler’s gaze turned toward her task as the small boat swung slowly around to its place near a dock of gold.
“Thank you. Maybe we will meet again one day.” Haustis smiled at the handler as she got off the boat, expecting no reply.
“Good luck to you Eifen. I hope, for your sake, we never have the opportunity to speak again.”
As soon as their feet touched the dock, the handler turned the boat and it moved gracefully the way it had come. As it cleared the shallows, a thick mist rolled in from the middle of the Abyss and hid the boat as surely as if it had been sunk. They stared after her watching the mist clear as quickly as it arrived, and she was gone.
“For an afterlife for evil people, this isn’t half bad,” Hokra said, grinning as he looked up to the women, his right arm out pointing toward a white-sand beach lined with tall trees without limbs and sprouting fronds at the top to provide small patches of shade. There were small cottages like G’Brin’s along the beach, but they were nothing like the shack they had left in the Melting Grae. The cottages here were immaculately clean, bright, and well cared for. The small windows in every one of them were open to the calm breeze coming off the water; a breeze Lydria only noticed when she saw the sheer squares of cloth hanging over the windows flapping lazily back and forth against the wooden sill.
“Are you going to stand on the dock all day or come ashore?”
Turning to their left, up the other side of the beach from the dock was a young man, with pants like G’Brin’s, cut just above the knee. He wore dark green suspenders over a hairless, olive-skinned chest. His hair was dark and curled over his forehead like a small visor against the sun. He looked to be only a few years younger than Lydria.
“Well? Are you coming? I mean, you’re welcome to stay on the dock if that’s what suits you. A lot of people stay there for a while, hoping there was a mistake and that the boat will be back. It never comes back – at least never to take anyone away. It only delivers, I’m afraid. I’m Dravud.”
Lydria moved her wrist slightly to tug on Hokra’s arm, keeping him in place on the dock. “Thank you, Dravud. Do you live here?”
Dravud looked at Lydria and then to Haustis and Hokra, his lips curling up further with each set of eyes he searched until he was laughing. His arms were crossed in front of his stomach and he bent over, doubled up like he had drunk too much ale.
“You’re serious!” Dravud straightened and composed himself, wiped a tear from his eye and drew a deep breath, standing tall so he wouldn’t be tempted to laugh again. “Of course, I live here – just like you do, now. It’s my job to show newcomers around and get them settled in. But first you have to come off the dock.”
Hesitantly Lydria led her friends across gold planks that were steady and secure, as if they walked on solid ground. The dock, like the lake itself was perfectly still.
Waiting until they had left the dock, Dravud continued to smile and greeted them with a small bow. “I’m here to help you.”
Haustis was unsure of how to respond, and looked to Lydria for guidance, but found they were both equally confused. “I’m sorry,” Haustis began, choosing her words carefully. “Who sent you to help us?”
Dravud laughed again, a smaller, simpler laugh, that showed he was aware of their confusion and had probably encountered it before. “I have no idea, I really don’t. I know, somehow, that my job is to show the newcomers around. Would you like my help?”
It was Hokra’s turn to look toward Lydria, his confusion more difficult to read with his double-lidded eyes, but clear, nonetheless, he was wondering if the young man in front of them could be trusted.
Dravud smiled again and Lydria thought the young man was everything they did not expect from the Nethyn Plains. “Dravud, why did the boatwoman say nothing to us about you?”
Dravud’s happy expression lessened somewhat and his voice became melancholy. “The woman of whom you speak, does not know of me. How could she, for she has never stepped foot on the dock, much less the beach. She knows only whom to collect and perhaps why they are being collected. For her, that is enough to tell her all she thinks she needs to know of the Nethyn Plains. Alas, she knows nothing of my area of the Nethyn Plains – the beach and waterfront. Here, as you can see, it is not so bad. The sun shines across the shimmering lake and a fresh breeze drifts through the palm trees.”
“Where is everyone then?” Haustis moved her head, inviting Dravud to follow her eyes to the empty cottages lining the beach. The young man shifted his stance and lowered his hands so that his thumbs rested behind his suspenders by the waist line of his shortened trousers.
“Not everyone wants to stay,” he said, looking at each of the arrivals in turn. “Well, let me say instead, not everyone can stay. Almost everyone wants to,” he added quickly. “But soon after they arrive, people look to the trees and ultimately, they walk toward them. Some go willingly, excited to see what is next, hoping for something more. Some
go after a long stay, hoping for something different. Some go as if they are sleepwalking. None, however, ever find their way back.”
Though he said it with the lighthearted nature of a young man, there was a warning implicit in what he said and Lydria wanted to hear more, and so she stayed silent, waiting to see if Dravud would continue speaking. He did not disappoint.
“Our community is there,” Dravud pointed back the way he had come indicating a beach out of sight beyond a bend behind a stand of palm trees. “There is a small cove, and those who stay here have created a friendly community there. There are plenty of cottages available and you will probably find that it is very much like a community on Eigrae. The Eifen often take those cottages built into the trees, or those made of dried mud, and the humans take those made of wood. Although you are free to choose or make whatever you wish. The cottages here, well, we leave these empty so that visitors such as yourselves, can get accustomed to the beach and then either join us at the cove, or, if you feel the need, walk into the forest.”
Without another word, Dravud started walking along the beach toward the cottages, talking about how they could each stay in one, or share a cottage if they preferred. “I’m curious,” he said as they reached the sky-blue door that marked the first of more than a dozen colorful cottages. “None of you have asked about leaving, or why you’re here, or any one of a number of things that everyone asks about.”
“Everyone?” Lydria cocked her head to the side, trying to see if perhaps Dravud had not met Wynter when he was dropped off at the dock. The boy looked confused for a moment, before realizing his error and apologizing for the oversight. “Well, everyone except for a man who came here earlier. It may have been a short time or a long time ago, but it doesn’t feel like it was recently. He wanted nothing to do with anything on the beach. Before I could reach him, he was already making haste toward the forest.”
Magic's Genesis- Reckoning Page 8