by Martin Ash
‘I understand. Be assured, I will speak of my experience to no one.’
‘No, you do not understand, Dinbig. It is not merely a matter of holding your silence. You cannot be allowed to recall what has happened.’
‘But how can I possibly forget?’
‘It is already done.’
I shook my head, baffled.
‘It has to be this way,’ said Aniba. ‘But not everything will be lost.’
‘But I recall,’ I said. ‘It is clear in my mind.’
‘That is good.’ She hesitated, then said, ‘Lastly, I have brought you a gift. You will think it will help you remember, and that is important also. It is over now, Dinbig. Between us, together, as one, we have achieved. And remember, someday you may look into the eyes of a stranger...’
‘Don’t go,’ I said, but I spoke only to shadows at the edge of my room, shadows pierced by soft rays of roseate light, and I questioned whether she had been there at all.
Nothing had changed when I awoke the next morning. I remembered Aniba’s visit and everything we had said. I recalled everything that had gone before; but I wondered about the gift she had mentioned. She had left nothing in her wake other than the memories she insisted I could not have.
I have the evidence of what happened, for I wrote it down. It is all as I recall. Had Aniba been correct, I could never have told this story. Unless, of course, my memory plays me entirely false, and I have only imagined it all.
Might this be so? Might it even be possible that I have imagined not only what happened, but the telling of it too? It is an unsettling thought, but it is also absurd, for you, who are witness to this account, whomsoever you may be, if you truly exist then you have surely just read it. Or might it be that this tale is something that you too have imagined?
No. I recall, and I have recorded it, and I will never forget.
I went to my study after breakfast that morning to finalize the drafting of an important document. I noticed then the piece of rare green amber that rested on my desk. I had bought it from a man of somewhat dubious reputation, a fellow named Wirm who is now gone from this world. He died in a coup organized by another man known to me, named Vastandul. The coup was clandestinely supported by my close friend and collaborator Viscount Inbuel m’ Anakastii. In fact I had played a small but significant part in it myself, though I have no wish to go into details here.
The truth was that Wirm had been up to no good. He traded in the flesh of the Grey-backed Twiner, an eel, and he used this business as a cover for other, darker enterprises. There were certain political complexities in the matter; it was far more intricate than might appear on the surface. But it was over now and the document I was drafting would secure my own investment in the industry at bog-swamped Guling Mire. I was to sign this agreement later that day, in company with Vastandul and Viscount Inbuel, making us equal partners in Guling Mire’s elver-flesh business.
I was pleased with the way things had turned out. It had been a tricky affair.
The amber, glinting in the sunlight, caught my eye. It was a fascinating piece, irregularly shaped and varied in tone and pigment. I found myself staring into its depths, and I wondered, for within it was contained a mystery: a single object which resembled nothing so much as a tiny feather, lustrous black and banded in deep red.
And I lifted the amber and turned it in my fingers. As I did so it appeared, through a strange trick of the light, that the red of the feather flowed like liquid, like blood, into a deeper region, a dark central core, a well in which I could almost see... I could not say what I could almost see.
I set the amber down, dwelling upon that which I could never truly know. A breath of breeze from outside brushed my cheek, and just for a moment I thought I heard a sound, a rustling, close to the window. The beating of wings? Why did that image come to mind? It seemed to stir something within me, yet I could not quite recall. I reminded myself that I had so many days past ingested gidsha, the sacred visionary root of the Nirakupi peoples. Its mind-altering properties are powerful and profound, and I had been warned to expect and be prepared for residual effects for quite some time.
So I put my quill to the paper and my thoughts to the task at hand.
And somewhere, not so very far away, I heard a baby cry.
Appendix
The Zan-Chassin
Out of the shamanistic beliefs and practices indigenous to the nation of Khimmur and its surrounding regions was born a formalized, stratified system of applied ritualized sorcery called Zan-Chassin (pronounced: Zan-Kassin). ‘Powerful Way’, ‘Path, or Ladder, of Knowledge’, ‘Mysterious Ascent’ are all approximate translations of the term. The Zan-Chassin cosmogony held that the universe was created by the Great Moving Spirit, Moban. Moban, having created all, moved on (in certain mystical circles the created world is still referred to as the Abandoned Realm). Creation was left to do as it would without interference or aid.
Numerous modes, or realms, of being were conceived to exist within the Creation, not all of which were readily perceived by or accessible to humankind. In the normal state humans realized two domains, the corporeal and the domain of mind or intellect. The power of Zan-Chassin adepts lay in their ability to transcend the limitations of these modes and enter various supra-physical domains, termed the Realms, there to interact with the spirit-entities active within them. Emphasis was also laid upon contact with the spirits of the ancestors who had passed from the physical world to dwell in the realms beyond, and who could under certain conditions be summoned to an ethereal meeting place to provide advice and guidance to their descendants in the physical.
Where Zan-Chassin practice differed from that of the shamans of many other nations was in its systematic and even quasi-scientific approach. Understanding the nature of the Realms became paramount, resulting in the introduction of a set procedure whereby the aspiring adept, through precise training and instruction, might learn in stages both the sorcerous art and something of the nature of the realm of existence her or she was to enter, thus mitigating to some extent the inherent dangers. Previously, the non-corporeal world had been conceived of as a single realm of existence. Men and women had gone willy-nilly from their bodies to encounter with little forewarning whatever lay beyond. The risks were considerable. Many perished or were lost or driven insane by their experiences.
The Zan-Chassin way revealed the Realms to be of varying natures, with myriad and diverse difficulties and obstacles being met within each. Just as normal humans might realize varying ‘shades’ of existence, depending upon the development of intellect, organs of sense etc., so could Zan-Chassin masters come to know and experience the differing natures of the Realms. Adepts were taught to subdue spirit-entities within each level of experience before progressing to the next, thus providing themselves with allies or helpers at each stage of their non-corporeal wanderings. The dangers, though still very real, were thus partially diminished. Aspirants progressed from one realm to the next only when adjudged ready and sufficiently equipped by their more advanced mentors.
Nonetheless, over time many of even the most advanced and experienced Zan-Chassin masters failed to survive their journeys beyond the corporeal.
Within Khimmurian society Zan-Chassin proficiency was a key to power and influence. Practitioners generally enjoyed privileged social positions, and indeed the nation’s constitution, such as it was, became structured so that Khimmur could be ruled only by one accomplished in the sorcerous art. A few Zan-Chassin chose the anchoretic life and lived beyond society, but they were in the minority.
To some extent the Zan-Chassin were feared or at least viewed with suspicion by normal folk, who were much prone to superstition. Their magic was not understood, their ways were somewhat strange and wondrous. The Zan-Chassin made little effort to remedy this, it being expedient in certain circumstances.
Women enjoyed honoured status within the Zan-Chassin Hierarchy. The female more often revealed a natural affinity with the concepts of non-cor
poreality and spirit-communication which few men were able to emulate. They were equally highly proficient in the exploration and ‘mapping’ of the furthermost discovered territories of Moban’s great and mysterious Creation. Thus the Hierarchy remained matriarchal in character, withstanding efforts to reduce the feminine influence.
back
And finally…
I hope you have enjoyed Citadel. If you’d like more quality fiction at this low price, a review on Amazon would be greatly appreciated. The number of reviews a book accumulates on a daily basis has a direct impact on how it sells, so just leaving a review, no matter how short, helps make it possible for me to do what I do. Here’s a link to leave a review for Citadel:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07117Q2PJ/
Calling All Angels
Also by Martin Ash
Moonblood (First Chronicle of the Shaman)
Heart of Shadows (Second Chronicle of the Shaman)
Enchantment’s Reach Vols 1 - 6