Riven

by A. R. Knight

  “Somewhere in the Midwest,” I said. “You’re the journalist, do the digging.”

  “My part of the deal?”

  “Look, being a guide has always been a difficult job. A lot of risk. Not a lot of reward,” I said. “With the war going on, things are going to get dangerous. But we’ve kept the world spinning for centuries, and we won’t stop now.”

  Opperman nodded when I’d finished. “That’s what I needed. Now, smile!”

  The reporter waved behind him and a woman I hadn’t noticed ran up to my face. On her shoulders, she wore what looked like a jumble of metal parts. On her head was a massive lens. She pressed a pair of buttons, one in each hand, and the lens blasted me with light.

  “Your picture,” Opperman said as the woman backed away. “Should get on the front page!”

  “I’m wearing a mask,” I replied.

  “Even better!” Opperman exclaimed. “Guides are mysterious, scary, and that’s what you are.”

  “Thanks,” I said, brushing past him. “Selena, remember.”

  “Sure thing, Carver,” Opperman said to my back as I slipped into Ezra’s.

  Bryce was at our usual table, immersed in the morning edition. Ezra’s had its music playing bright ragtime, pianos bouncing along at a frenetic rate. Bryce looked up when I sat down across from him, narrowed his eyes when I took a pour from his coffee.

  “Feeling spicy this morning, Carver?” Bryce said.

  “Got the crap kicked out of me last night, Bryce,” I replied. “Just happy to be alive.”

  That bled into an edited recounting of the encounter with Cane and Spike. I left out Nicholas and the lab, Selena saving me, and turned it into a two on one slugfest that had my physical heroics carrying the day, albeit not so well that I’d dodged any harm.

  “You and Alec have the same problem,” Bryce said when I was done. “Both going out alone. Against orders.”

  “There aren’t enough of us,” I said. “What orders am I supposed to obey? The quota, or sticking together?”

  Bryce set down the paper and rubbed his eyes. The same look he did any time I confronted him with an impossible question.

  “You have your sparks with you?” Bryce said.

  “Always,” I replied. “I forget to shoot them.”

  “Please don’t. They’ll save your life.”

  “Know what else might save my life?” I said. “Telling me what you know about Graham.”

  Now Bryce sat back, confused. “Did you see him again?”

  “These guys, they said they were working for Graham. That’s right, spirits working for each other,” I glanced around Ezra’s, no Alec in sight. “I didn’t mention this earlier, but Graham talked to me. The first time.”

  “Saying what?”

  “Essentially that he wanted a way out of Riven. Back here. For him and all other spirits.”

  “That sounds like Graham,” Bryce said. “Not that I knew him well, but he wasn’t one to settle. Always pushed the limits for a guide. Like you, dove into one messy situation after another.”

  “How’d he die? Spirits?”

  Bryce shook his head. “Illness, if I remember right. It’s been a long time, and I was going through training.”

  “Then how is his spirit still around, if he died that long ago?” I asked.

  “When a guide dies, out here, they can last for a long time in Riven because they know what it is. How it works,” Bryce said, his eyes sliding into a thoughtful stare. “Even so, the Cycle should eventually get them. I’m not sure how he’s lasted so long.”

  We talked for a while longer, me taking the opportunity to get my own coffee and sip the steamy brew. Then Bryce took a long pause, staring over at the bar. I followed his glance, realized he wasn’t looking at anything in particular, and took in my mentor’s face.

  Bryce was looking, and this felt strange to think, old. Or rather, used. Slight wrinkles threaded his face, and Bryce’s eyes were rimmed with tangled red. Strands of gray intermingled with his auburn hair.

  “You can probably tell,” Bryce said when he caught me looking. “I’m getting tired. Decades in Riven will catch up to you.”

  “Didn’t want to say anything.”

  Bryce reached inside his coat pocket and brought out a book. Leather-bound. Only, on the inside wasn’t pages, but pictures. Bryce handed the book to me.

  “Take a look,” Bryce said. I obliged, flipping through. Black and white smiles flashed back at me. Bryce, his wife, their two children. As I turned the pages, I noticed that all of the pictures with Bryce were around Chicago. In their house, or a park. Pictures elsewhere just had his wife and the kids.

  “You never leave?” I said.

  “Do you?” Bryce replied.

  I hadn’t thought about it, but the answer was no. No I didn’t. Chicago was my area, and even though I could cross into Riven from anywhere, I might not appear in the same place. Wouldn’t be able to respond to a crisis. And guides didn’t take vacations.

  “You’re going to retire?” I said.

  “Soon,” Bryce said. “When the war calms down, I think. I want you to take my place.”

  “Not Alec?”

  Bryce smiled. “You think he would want it? Having to police the other Chicago guides? Make pitches to the city for support?”

  We both laughed at that one. No way would Alec and his ego work in that environment. He’d probably have us run out of town in a month. Then Bryce turned serious again.

  “You ever think of having a family?” Bryce said.

  “Never really had one, except for you and the other guides,” I replied. The remark brought my mother’s strange death floating back through my head, and I frowned.

  “Probably for the best,” Bryce said. “This life isn’t a kind one.”

  I nodded. Took the last drink of the coffee. Family. I’d had one once. For a moment. Maybe it was time to find out what happened to it.

  Chapter 24

  The Chicago Medical Center. Or the CMC, as the newspapers called it, took up five blocks south of downtown. From the top floors, I’d been told, you could make out the lake on a clearer day.

  This was not one of those. The haze was thick, making the strings of lights directing patients and visitors to the entrance less of a decoration and more of a necessity.

  As I walked towards the main doors with a dozen others, tinny speakers played recorded messages when we stepped on certain plates. Directions for patients, guidelines for visitors, and so on. By the time I was standing in the purifying room, the haze sucking away, I felt I knew every little detail about how CMC worked.

  I wanted to see the doctor that had presided over my mother’s treatment. Whose name was on the certificate Anna had sent me. Thankfully, he was easy to find. Because he was also my doctor, and the physician for all of Chicago’s guides.

  “Carver Reed,” Barrington Farth said to me from behind an enormous pair of spectacles. The glasses, which always took a second to get used to, weren’t just lenses. They had a series of gadgets attached to them that allowed Barrington to zoom in for a closer look, register air quality, and, so he’d told me once, even pick up the frequency of a heart beat from inches away.

  “That’s my name,” I said.

  “You’re early for your annual check-up,” Barrington said, glancing at a folder with my name on it.

  “Not here for that. Thanks for taking the time to meet on short notice,” I said.

  “My contract with the guides requires it,” Barrington replied. “What do you need, then?”

  “I wanted to ask you about this,” I said, taking out the certificate and setting it on Barrington’s absurdly crowded desk. Papers and knickknacks, tools that had no purpose I could discern, littered the dark wood surface. Barrington leaned over, so close that I thought his wrinkled skin might droop down and touch the sheet.

  “Your mother,” Barrington said. “I’d ask how you acquired this, except it’s here, so such a line of inquiry would waste our
time. You want to know how she died?”

  “Sure, let’s start with that.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Barrington said slowly, dredging up the memory while reciting it. “But a patient like Katherine stays with you. If only for how much she fought to bring you into the world, and how fast she went after.”

  “Fast?”

  “Yes. Even in the lead-up to your birth, she had been claiming people were coming for her. Other guides, even. It was the start of a problem that would kill her.”

  “Other guides? You mean my mother was one?”

  Barrington gave me an odd look. “Of course. You didn’t know that?”

  “Not many people talk about my parents, doctor.”

  “No, perhaps not,” Barrington said. “At the time, my priority was to ensure she made it through the pregnancy. Her obvious psychosis could be dealt with later.”

  “Except it wasn’t.”

  “No. She had you, and then within days, she was gone. We’d transferred her to a safe ward. She was monitored. Few visitors. In the end, however, Katherine slipped away.”

  “You have no idea why?”

  Here Barrington paused. I could practically see him measuring and discarding words. Picking the proper phrase.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Barrington said. “I did an autopsy, after all.”

  I waited. The doctor put his elbows on the desk, leaned forward, pushed his massive spectacles towards my face.

  “It’s hard to tell what goes on with a guide’s body when they cross over. On the outside, it resembles sleep. Or a coma,” Barrington said. “On the inside, that’s an open question. So when your mother expired, I took the chance to see.”

  Then he paused. As though remembering that talking about dissecting a man’s mother right in front of him might not be the most polite thing in the world.

  “It’s fine,” I said. It definitely was not fine, but I wasn’t here to be emotional. This was about finding what happened to my mother. “Tell me what you found.”

  “In short, it was multiple organ failure,” Barrington said. “I assume something happened to her over there. She was crossing quite frequently, you know. I think it helped her stay sane.”

  “What do you mean, ‘assume something happened to her over there’?”

  “The damage must have come from a Riven event. It wasn’t natural,” Barrington shrugged. “If she’d been a normal patient, a normal person, I’d have said she’d been poisoned.”

  Chapter 25

  I woke up back in the clock tower. My body was still sore, but the hole in my arm didn’t exist. My stomach wasn’t a pillar of pain. Crossing worked miracles. I stood up and stretched, enjoying the muscle ache because of its familiarity. I could deal with this.

  Barrington left me with questions, but there wasn’t time to tackle them now. Alec, by way of Bryce that morning, had asked for help with a hunt. We had our ten spirit quota to fill for the day, and with Bryce pulled into another hours-long diplomacy session in the real-world, it was up to Alec and I to keep Chicago in the black.

  “This fountain is a mystery,” Alec said to me as I left the clock tower. He stood beside the basin, staring at the not-water as it flowed. “Riven has no power. A questionable relationship with physics. Yet, here this fountain pours.”

  “Chasing answers here is a mistake,” I said. “Riven is Riven.”

  “Tsk tsk,” Alec said. “That sort of attitude will leave us stuck where we are now, forever. Better to ask ‘what is Riven’?”

  “Someday, when I have time, I’ll put that question to the test,” I replied. “You said you had something?”

  “The ghoul that was found? It is still around,” Alec said. “One of the guides told me while we were closing the breach. It’s far, so nobody has bothered going after it yet. Until now.”

  Normally, I’d be ecstatic. A ghoul! The very thing I kept harassing Bryce about. A chance to push my abilities to the max against the most frightening creature Riven had to offer. Except, after Cane’s beating last night, I wasn’t feeling thrilled about going into combat against a giant beast.

  “I thought you would be more excited?” Alec said to my uncertain face. “Bryce told me that you always wanted to fight one.”

  “I had a rough night.”

  “Then what better way to recover than by risking life and limb?” Alec said.

  “I could think of some,” I said, but the curious itch was growing. I might be in rough shape, but who knew when I’d get another chance? Not only were ghouls rare, but you had to be in Riven at the right time or other guides would take it down first. “Fine, let’s go.”

  “Not very enthusiastic, but it is a yes, nonetheless,” Alec said. He walked away from the fountain, heading east. Away from the Tar Pit, which was west of the clock tower, and the Warrens, south. Normally, the east was a quieter district. A series of wide squares and misshapen structures. Like someone playing with brick and mortar got carried away.

  “Why the gauntlets, Alec?” I asked as we walked along.

  “Why?” Alec replied. “A family tradition, my friend.”

  “Family tradition?”

  “I’m a fourth generation guide,” Alec said. “These gauntlets are over a hundred years old.”

  “Is there going to be a fifth generation?” I needled my friend, and Alec laughed.

  “Perhaps, but I don’t think now is the best time for talk of family,” Alec said. “The world is in a dark place, and Riven even more so. Better I help cleanse the streets than take time away for children.”

  “If you say so.”

  “What about you, Carver?” Alec said. “Have you found a love of your own? Do you hope for your own family one day, like our dear leader, Bryce?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, Selena dashing through my mind. “I’ve got other priorities, I guess.”

  “Other priorities, the man says. Then that is what I will say too. Other priorities,” Alec kept up the grin. “Then, until we find that love who steals our hearts and makes us long for quiet nights with our families by the fire, let us wield our lives like a sword for the guides.”

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re crazy?” I said.

  “All the time, Carver. And I never deny it,” Alec said.

  After making our way through the area surrounding the clock tower, we saw more spirits. These weren’t the wandering dead that went through most of Riven. People who’d been killed of old age or accidents. No, most of these bore the hallmarks of disease, and the same one.

  You could always tell a disease death in Riven because the spirits, like the war dead, looked the same as when they fell apart. No ideal form, no relaxed way to go. The suffering transformed their spirit as it had warped their last days in life.

  The spirits we were seeing? Their hair, when they had it, was matted to their faces from sweat. Their arms and legs were thin, wasted away. Their eyes twitched open and closed, a sure sign that they’d spent most of their waning days asleep. The ones not moving towards the Cycle were sitting, staring into nothing.

  “This is bad,” I said. “Where is this happening? I haven’t heard of a plague.”

  “The war is across one ocean,” Alec said. “This is across the other.”

  The streets broadened, blended in with broad courtyards surrounding strange buildings. One to my left appeared to be a half-finished castle. A turret spiraling upward, with chunks missing from the walls. Spirits sat on the stones like visitors to ruins, watching us as we went by.

  To the right were the Watcher’s Tears. A series of stone bases that curved upwards to pointed tops a dozen stories high. Some of those points had been blunted, broken off with their blocks shattered on the ground beside them. Where the name had come from, I didn’t know.

  “Have you ever been out of the city?” Alec asked as we went.

  “In Riven, you mean?”

  “Yes, here,” Alec said. “To the walls?”

  “Never been that far.”
<
br />   “You know, Piotr says that there is nothing worth exploring beyond this place,” Alec said. “But I think he is lying. Or he chooses not to see.”

  “Have you been?”

  Alec nodded. “To the eastern edge. Where the streets drain away to wide fields of the whitest grass you have ever seen. There are few spirits. But Riven goes on.”

  “Why?”

  “See, now you are asking the right questions. Why, indeed. What is the point of this place? If it is just a house for the dead, why bother with all the rest?”

  In front of us, slowly growing to tower over dead tree-lined boulevards and scattered structures, was The Palace. Double the size of the factory in the Tar Pit where we’d closed the breach, The Palace was a giant building covered in ornate carvings. Symbols that I couldn’t understand, that I’d never heard an explanation for. Domes dotted the roof, entirely black. The darkest things I’d seen in Riven’s eternal gray.

  “It’s supposed to be here,” Alec said, looking around. “Unless someone was rude enough to take it from us.”

  I looked around, noted the lack of spirits. Where there’d been dozens wandering earlier, The Palace was empty. The grounds were clear. That just made things creepier.

  “Ghouls aren’t supposed to be hard to find,” I said.

  “Perhaps we need to make it easy to find us,” Alec replied. Before I could say anything, Alec pulled his spark tube from his belt, pointed it towards the sky, and triggered it. Blue sparks flew up and burst.

  A moment later, the ground shook. A noxious roar, a mixing of anger, liquid lungs, and spit, echoed across the stones.

  “You see? We just needed to say hello,” Alec said.

  Chapter 26

  One of the side benefits of crossing to Riven was that, when it wasn’t getting beat up, my body in Chicago slept. I’d cross back and feel rejuvenated. It also meant that I never really dreamed. Or if I did, if my brain back in Chicago whirled through nightmares while I slaughtered spirits in Riven, I didn’t experience them. So while I’d say the ghoul looked like a nightmare come to life, the truth was, I didn’t really know.