Beyond the Wall of Time

by Russell Kirkpatrick

  Kannwar grunted, then placed an illusory hand on the wounded man’s chest. An audible sizzling was accompanied by a sudden weakness in all those around him, judging by the slumping of their shoulders. Lenares felt as though she’d just woken up after a poor night’s sleep, and found herself falling to her knees.

  “He will wake in a moment,” Kannwar said wearily. “But there are consequences to follow from this healing. First, this man will likely strike at me again. The next time he does will be his death. Second, I have drawn power from everyone in the area, making us vulnerable to the gods. We must move from here, and move quickly: I expect Umu or Keppia to launch an attack against us almost immediately. Third, I am publicly announcing my estrangement from the Falthan queen. This is my land, these are my subjects, and I will not be told how to deal with them.”

  He took a deep breath, turned and regarded the shocked woman. “You and I are finished.”

  A wave of dizziness passed through Lenares, a weakness not associated with these events, but an external event. Something was happening…

  Her eyes blurred. When she regained focus, Consina and Bregor stood before Kannwar and Consina was talking.

  “They went through Raceme without mercy, my lord,” she said, genuine sorrow in her voice, underlain with artifice. “I must report that they slew every male of fighting age and piled the corpses on the Summer Flame before setting them alight.”

  Truth, Lenares realised, but also deception. They are trying to trap Kannwar into a confession because they wish to kill him.

  As always, Lenares revelled in her unique abilities. This is who I am. Not an ordinary human, having to guess what people intend to do, but a cosmographer, one who sees.

  And yet… something was wrong. What… time was folding back on itself. Folding and folding again. She tried to say something, to warn the others, to somehow break the spell, but it was as difficult as grabbing her ankles and lifting herself into the air.

  The woman continued. “They were at pains to say that this killing, and their campaign against the towns and villages of the Fisher Coast, was all done in the name of the Undying Man, Lord of Bhrudwo.”

  “He has a knife,” Lenares gasped, and the pressure around her lessened.

  “I know,” said the Undying Man.

  “Was it done in your name?” Bregor asked, and went to draw his knife—but it was gone.

  Of all of them, Stella had acted the swiftest. She had taken two steps, then snatched the knife from the man’s belt.

  “The terrible thing is,” she gasped, “I can remember everything you were going to say and do.”

  Bregor’s face went white and he put a hand to his chest; clearly he also had retained some memory of events—events that had never happened.

  “I remember you saying that you and I were finished,” Stella said to Kannwar.

  “I did. And yet I never said it.”

  “You ordered the destruction of the Fisher Coast,” Bregor said.

  “I did,” said the Undying Man, raising his voice to be audible to everyone listening. Unafraid of their opinions. “But I countermanded that order when I learned there was an external threat to the empire from the gods, and that the grandson of the Duke of Roudhos lived still.”

  “Noetos? You mean Noetos? Why is he important?”

  “The Fisher Coast is not a viable political unit,” said the Undying Man with exaggerated patience. “Within a few years it would have been consumed from within by a series of small rebellions, by infighting and guerrilla wars. These wars would have cost thousands of lives and laid waste to valuable land. It seemed better to encourage the assimilation of the Fisher Coast into a Greater Neherius. That is, until I learned of Noetos’s existence. If the grandson was even a shadow of his grandsire, I believed he might forge a strong and prosperous vassal state akin to Old Roudhos.”

  “And is he that shadow?”

  “No.”

  Bregor bridled. “No? Not even a shadow? 1’d like to see the man who could have done what Noetos has done!”

  The Undying Man smiled. “You misunderstand me. He is no mere shadow. Noetos is the equal of the Red Duke, my old friend, murdered at my command. And that even with the impediments shackled around him. I decided to reunite Roudhos under his banner and so gave the command for Neherius to cease its invasion.”

  “But they went ahead anyway,” Consina said bitterly.

  “Yes. As a result they will pay a heavy price.”

  Bregor breathed a weary sigh. “When did you first learn about Noetos?”

  “From a young woman held captive in my dungeon,” Heredrew said.

  “Arathé?”

  “Indeed. It was too late to save her tongue, but I prevented her exposure to the worst of what my dungeon-master calls ‘punishment.’ ”

  “But you didn’t retrieve her. You didn’t reveal your knowledge and ask her to take you to her father. You didn’t heal her.” Unspoken, but still loud in their absence, were the words yet you healed me.

  “I intended to, and my failure to do so is perhaps my largest mistake in this whole affair. I was drawn away by the Most High, who tried to enlist me in his plan to defeat the gods.” Kannwar outlined his discussions with the Most High, and the looks of wonderment on his listeners’ faces deepened as he spoke. “When I returned, months later, the girl had left the keep in the company of four Recruiters. I could not supervise a search as my presence was required in Dhauria on… other matters.”

  “Your largest mistake?” boomed a voice from somewhere behind Lenares, a voice filled with a febrile hunger. “No, your largest mistake was keeping me ignorant of your true identity. Now stand aside, everyone. I have some questions to ask the Lord of Bhrudwo.”

  A small group of familiar people strode down the street towards them, Noetos at their head, sword in his hand, his face crimson with rage.

  But Lenares only had eyes for the girl walking beside him. It was herself, Lenares herself somehow, as though space had been folded; and over her and in her was en-twined the presence of a god.

  CHAPTER 12

  THE SNARE

  AFTER IT WAS ALL OVER, Lenares had the luxury of time to sort out all of what had happened that afternoon. She was able to consider at leisure Noetos’s heroic but futile assault on the Undying Man, and reflect on the surprise they had all experienced at the identities of those who came to defend him. A surprise, yes, but far easier to deal with than the fate of the girl Cylene who accompanied the fisherman. Just when Lenares thought she’d evaded the world’s snare it had reached out a final hand and trapped her, condemning her to life as a human. Or so it seemed to her as she sat weeping amidst the ruins of Mensaya and contemplating all she had lost.

  As events unfolded, however, there had not been the time for much coherent thought. Noetos had come storming towards the gathered assembly, murder in his eyes. Most there had stepped back, reacting involuntarily to the enormous power of his rage. It took a strong spirit to withstand the fisherman in those moments.

  Lenares had remained where she was. She could see he would ask his questions before he used his sword. Besides, her attention had been taken by the girl beside him.

  “You are my sister,” Lenares said; and it was no surprise that the girl said the same words at the same time. They both grinned.

  The girl then continued: “Not only your sister, but your twin. My name is Cylene.”

  No folding of space and time then. But, as Lenares looked more closely, supernatural interference nonetheless.

  Her attention was dragged away by the coming together of the fisherman and the Lord of Bhrudwo.

  “Do not judge me for keeping my identity a secret, Roudhos,” the Undying Man called.

  So clever, the use of that name, Lenares noted.

  Noetos clearly knew how clever the Lord of Bhrudwo had been. “Don’t call me that,” he growled. “I hid in Fossa to protect my family. You hid in our midst in order to more effectively bend others to your will.”
r />   “You are embarrassed because everyone else knew my identity but you.”

  “That I am.” The fisherman drew up to where Kannwar stood. “But it is a minor concern compared to the anger I feel towards a liege lord who serves no one but himself. I stood at the edge of the crowd and listened to you condemn yourself out of your own mouth. You admit you knew my daughter languished in your dungeon through no fault of her own, a loyal subject still, yet you did nothing to save her.”

  “As you say.”

  “Why did you not act?”

  Lenares desired to hear every word, drawn by the incipient violence that hovered like storm-clouds, but the bright face gazing into hers commanded her attention. Not the least because, this close, it was comprised of a combination of black and white threads, writhing with loathing as they touched each other.

  “Which one are you?” Lenares asked.

  “Which one? I told you, sister, my name is Cylene. What are you called now, Merla of Sayonae?”

  “You seek to distract me with emotion, you thing. But I see you. You are possessed by a god. Which one are you: Keppia or Umu?”

  A short pause, and the writhing ceased for a moment. “We continue to underestimate you, Lenares,” Cylene said in a voice subtly changed, comprised of the black threads rather than the white. A man’s voice.

  Horrified gasps rose from many around her. Not from Noetos though, Lenares noted with interest, even though he’d swung his head in her direction. He’d known.

  “Keppia then,” Lenares said calmly. “Go away, Keppia. I wish to talk to Cylene.”

  “Cylene is not here,” said the voice, moving Cylene’s lips, and giggled.

  An inarticulate moan came from somewhere nearby. The tongueless girl, Arathé.

  “Did you know about this?” Lenares heard Anomer ask his father.

  “From the moment she returned from the forest,” Noetos replied, his voice made of stone. “She is dead, and her shell is inhabited by a monster. Yet because the monster thought I knew nothing of its possession, it has followed us here in the mistaken belief that it is safe.”

  “I am safe,” the monstrosity said. “None of you has the power to dismiss me. You are all too late. The breach in the Wall of Time is sufficiently wide now. Drive me out of this body and you will break my last connection with the void. I will be returned to this world forever.”

  “Then the answer is simple, fool,” Sauxa said, sneering as he spoke. “We’ll leave you to moulder in that body you’re wearing.”

  “Ah, but you won’t,” it said; and, as Lenares watched, the black threads wriggled back under the surface, allowing the white to emerge.

  Cylene shrieked.

  It was a sound to chill the marrow. Deeper than the mere agony of pain, more forlorn than one who has lost her only love, her scream tugged on those around her like the cry of a baby for its mother.

  “Alkuon,” Noetos breathed. “She’s still alive.”

  “If you want to save the girl,” said the monster, the black threads squirming back to the surface, “you’ll need to drive me out, out, out into the world. Otherwise she’ll remain trapped in here forever, with a very angry and inventive god for close company.”

  The silence following this statement was broken only when Noetos’s sword clattered to the ground, dropped from frozen fingers.

  Now was Lenares’ time. She could feel it coming upon her.

  She looked the black threads in the face and saw past them to the frightened, tortured girl entombed there.

  “Keppia has made a very bad mistake,” Lenares said, willing sincerity into her voice. “Just do as I tell you, Cylene, and all will be well.”

  “Do as you say?” the black voice mocked. “She is powerless and in terrible pain. She cannot even scream unless I give her leave, and I do not give her leave. Don’t you understand? If you do not rescue your sister, Lenares, if you do not save your lover, Noetos, neither of you will ever be able to live with yourselves again. Courage, Noetos. Now is the time for action, not flight. Or will you once again turn away from the rape and murder of a defenceless loved one? And, Lenares, what else is the gift of numbers for if not to drive me out? If you do nothing, your gift will surely not survive.”

  “Both Lenares and Noetos know you are lying to them,” said the Undying Man. “They know that love has limits. Neither would sacrifice the whole world to reclaim even their dearest loved one.”

  Noetos snatched up his sword and turned on the man. “You are not the appropriate person to speak of love and sacrifice,” he said in a cold voice. “My reckoning with you is merely delayed, not denied. By Alkuon, if you say another word, I will cut out your tongue.”

  Astonishingly, the Undying Man merely nodded, then took a step back, conceding the point.

  “Why should I try to drive you out when you are imprisoned?” Lenares said to the monster. “If we do nothing, you are trapped in Cylene’s body until you give up and go away, your connection with the void unsevered.”

  “Why?” cried Keppia. “Because she suffers!” And the mouth opened wide, impossibly wide, and Cylene’s voice came out: “Please! Please! Help me!” and tailed off into a scream.

  “Impressive,” Lenares said, and turned her back on her sister and her suffering.

  * * *

  Duon turned his head from one scene to the other, knowing that the cusp of their adventure had come. Knowing also that he had nothing to contribute, would be nothing more than a witness. He had hoped that his involvement in the events that would change the world in one way or another would prove to be a chance at redemption, a chance to put right his failure in the Valley of the Damned; but he was once again irrelevant. The knowledge left him both bitter and relieved.

  Lenares continued to walk away from her sister, abandoning any attempt to rescue her. The reason for this was impossible for Duon to discern. Had she called Keppia’s bluff? Unlikely in the extreme: Lenares was not such a sophisticated person. She could not tell lies even by omission. She used her gift as a hammer to bludgeon sophistication into truth and falsehood. More likely, given her detachment from normal human emotion, was the simple explanation that she’d decided to abandon her sister. After all, she’d shown little love for her real family when she encountered them in Sayonae. Why should she show compassion to the one who was favoured by her parents?

  No, she’s more complex than you think, said Arathé in his mind. She has a plan, I’m sure of it.

  I hope you are right. I can’t abide the idea of that girl locked away in her body forever.

  Cylene continued to shout and scream, the voice alternating between the warnings and gloatings of the god and the girl’s agonised pleas. The shocked crowd began to follow Lenares along the road, out of the village, away from the unbearable sounds.

  This feels dreadful, Duon said to Arathé. Walking away from someone’s suffering. There must be something we can do!

  As they reached the open road, a space suddenly cleared around Noetos and the Bhrudwan lord. Further words had clearly been exchanged, a conversation Duon had not overheard but could guess at. “You heard my explanation. I would have prevented any further unnecessary suffering had I not been drawn away from Andratan to a meeting with the Most High.”

  Noetos leaned forward, the courtesy and restraint in his words not matched by the strain on his face. At least the man had sheathed his sword.

  “What,” he asked, “could have been more important than, as you rightly say, the unnecessary suffering of an innocent girl?”

  “Innocent? I doubt that. But even given her so-called innocence, am I to take it you are objectively arguing that the alleviation of your daughter’s suffering—remember, her suffering was not going to end in death, because of my intercession—was more important than hearing what a god had to say?”

  “Yes, of course,” Noetos said, and turned in surprise when he realised his words had been echoed by another voice. That of Stella, the Falthan queen.

  “The fact she�
�s your daughter has nothing to do with it?”

  “It has everything to do with it, you fool,” Noetos said, courtesy and restraint cast aside. “Had it been someone else’s daughter, I would not have known of it. Given that I know what happened to Arathé, I am led to wonder how many other faithful sons and daughters of Bhrudwo have suffered similarly.”

  “He doesn’t understand your question,” Stella said, as the crowd continued to walk along the road out of Mensaya. “To the Lord of Bhrudwo, good government is the cold-hearted weighing of numbers. This action will save a hundred souls, while that action will save two hundred. Therefore the second action is favoured over the first, irrespective of how repugnant that action might be. If imprisoning and repeatedly draining young girls achieves an incrementally positive outcome for his empire, he will do it.”

  “Yes,” the Undying Man said fiercely, almost proudly. “See how well my queen understands me?”

  “Do not call me that,” Stella grated.

  “My apologies. But Stella is right. Actions that for you, with your limited knowledge, would be immoral are for me not only moral but necessary. Do you not see it? For you to lay waste to a town would be a crime. But if I see that such an action would prevent civil war and ultimately save thousands of lives, would it not be immoral to refrain from destroying the town?”

  “Now we are at the heart,” Stella said. Noetos looked on, his bemusement at this hijacking of his question plain to see. “You employ spies and researchers to gather information and statisticians to analyse it all. You then apply the solution that brings the least pain to your people. Yet you continue to be ignorant of what you are really doing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “First, you have no proof that your solutions are the most appropriate, only the word of your statisticians. Unless you are somehow able to fold back time and try multiple resolutions to your empire’s problems, you cannot prove that your actions are, in fact, in the best interests of your subjects.”