Secrets of Silverwind

by Sanders, Richard L.

  He tried not to think of his sword carving into his cousin’s chest. Mortally wounding him. He remembered Caythis falling to the ground. Antares had screamed then, with the power of all the emotions tormenting him inside. He couldn’t accept what he’d just done. What’d just happened. He remembered taking off his helmet, and Caythis’. How he’d held his cousin’s head in those final moments as the throes of death overcame him. How he begged and begged for Caythis’ forgiveness.

  Then the darkness came. That was his final memory… he scooped up some of the ashes and threw them into the wind. They were carried off the cliff.

  This is where it was supposed to end. This was where Antares should have fallen. Where Caythis should have stood above the world, victorious, rallying hope from Silverwind to Skyhaven.

  But Caythis had not prevailed. And Antares still lived. Something was broken. The world felt horribly wrong.

  He stepped to the edge of the cliff and gazed out over the ruined city once more. It seemed even more desolate in the twilight, the sun having moved below the horizon. He realized a reckoning was required. The world deserved its vengeance. And he owed it to everyone.

  He put his toes over the edge and looked straight down. It would be a very long, very painful drop. At the very bottom lay several jagged rocks stabbing up at him.

  Was this his path now? Would this final action make some kind of atonement? Allow him some measure of peace despite all he'd done? Perhaps the world required Antares' death before it could heal.

  He held his breath but couldn’t close his eyes, couldn’t even look away from the incredible drop. His heart pounded in his ears and he was overtaken by a paralyzing fear. It held him rigidly in place, stiff and immobile.

  The Crucible flashed before his eyes. The black lagoon far below, the rocks stabbing up at him, the girl tied in the waters. Would he jump? Would he surrender his life to fate?

  He couldn’t jump then. But he must jump now. He had every feeling compelling him to do so, and almost no reason holding him back. It would be easy, just one more step…

  He closed his eyes, trying to steel himself. But they popped open a second later and glued themselves to the eternally long drop. The view made him dizzy and he recoiled, taking a step backwards. Hating that he lacked the courage then, and still lacked the courage now. Even here, in this place, where everything reminded him of his sins, and the very ashes cried to him for his blood, he could not jump. Could not let go of his fate.

  He was crushed inside, and felt hot tears streak down his face. Why? Why did it have to be this way?

  All the terrible memories pouring through his mind stretched him and clawed at him and tore his insides. How could this have happened? He bowed his head, looking away from the destruction. How did he become the enemy of the world?

  Everything stretched out before him spelled death, everywhere he’d gone he’d brought death. Again he felt the urge to take a few steps forward. To join all that he had destroyed. What would happen then? Could he really hope to vanish into nothing? To fade away and leave all of his pain and agony behind? Or could pain follow him in death? Like an immortal chain squeezing his soul for eternity?

  Each day was a step closer to inevitable death. Regardless of what he did, the process couldn’t be stopped. The end couldn’t be avoided.

  Antares realized how futile everything seemed, and he wondered if life had any kind of purpose at all. This thought made it easier to inch his way back to the cliff’s edge.

  But as much as he wanted to stop existing, to never have been born, or even to plunge from the edge of that cliff—hoping he could leave everything behind, he simply couldn’t do it. So he stood there, toes stretched over the edge, frozen in stalemate. Feeling the icy wind against his stiffened face and black undersuit—his helmet and armor having been tossed aside. Gradually, he would be able to feel no more, become numb like death.

  “Don’t do it. It’s not worth it,” a woman’s voice startled him and he took a step backwards. It was crackly and a little too loud, it came from the external speaker of an enforcer helmet. He turned to see a woman in silver armor, a sword strapped to her back.

  His heart raced and he looked to where his sword lay on the ground, half-expecting a fight. Adrenaline pumped through him and his instincts took over, ready to defend the life he thought he didn’t value.

  “Here to finish what Caythis started?” asked Antares.

  “What? No.” The silver enforcer didn’t reach for her blade, instead she held out her hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s me.” She pulled off her helmet and shook loose a stream of beautiful hair and showed her sharp brown eyes.

  “Kira?” Seeing her in the silver armor, she was breathtaking. But he had no idea how she could possibly be an enforcer. Or how she’d known he was here. “How—how did you find me?”

  She gave him a strange look. “It wasn’t exactly difficult. A freshly carved jetbike trail leading off the beaten path is hard to miss.”

  Why would she follow him? Didn’t she know who he was? Wasn’t it clear what he’d done? Perhaps standing here, with a perfect view of the ruined city, she would realize. “Why are you here, Kira?”

  “Why do we do any of the things we do?” she asked. “It’s because we think the end result is worth the effort.”

  “But sometimes we’re wrong,” Antares was quick to say. “Sometimes the things we do, the choices we make, aren’t worth it. Sometimes the end result is far worse than we ever could have imagined.”

  “But most of the time we’re right,” she said. “That’s why we try.”

  “I don’t know why you’re here, Kira, but trust me, I’m not worth it.” He appreciated her, what she was trying to do, and even now he longed for her. But he didn’t want her to be here, didn’t want her to become mixed-in with the terrible memories of this place. “I owe the world too much,” he said. “And now it’s time to give back what I can.” He stepped back out to the cliff’s edge. His eyes instantly drifted to the bottom. It looked very, very far away.

  “Don’t do it, Antares,” said Kira. Her voice was a soft but fervent plea. It was the first time she’d ever called him by his true name.

  “What other choice do I have?”

  “To not jump.”

  “I owe the world too much.”

  “And after you jump, after you die, what then? Do you expect Andar to rise from the ashes?” Her voice was even and calm.

  “I expect,” he said thoughtfully, “the world will be able to say that Antares got his in the end. And that can be a small, meaningful tribute. Allowing me to enter death with one last, tiny dignity.”

  “There’s no dignity in suicide.” Her voice was absolute. “It cannot repair broken bridges or rebuild ruined cities, it cannot heal deep wounds.” She paused, letting him soak in her words. “It doesn’t help anyone, it’s nothing more than an escape. A way for you to get away from the world, and all its hardship, leaving it for the rest of us to carry alone, without your help.” He looked at her, she was stepping towards him, cautiously, slowly coming closer.

  “Suicide is not one final, tiny tribute,” she said. “It’s one final enormous act of cowardice. And certainly the most selfish thing a person could possibly do.”

  She was standing next to him now, and he was completely stunned. Couldn’t even open his mouth.

  “What happened here,” she pointed at the remains of Andar, “is a tragedy. But ending your life doesn’t make it any better. No, that would just be another tragedy to add to the rest.”

  “How could Antares’ death be a tragedy?” He wanted to believe her, but that seemed so selfish, so wrong.

  “Because it would hurt me.” She reached around him, embracing him. And he felt shock prickle through him. Could she mean it? It seemed impossible but he saw sincerity in her, and felt something new, something warm inside his soul. His breath quickened for an instant and he reached around her, pulling her tightly. And though her armor stood between them, he had
never felt closer to another person in all his life.

  “I don’t know everything about you,” said Kira, looking up at him. “But I’ve seen tenderness in you.” Their eyes locked and she brushed a tear from his face. “I’ve seen mercy, and kindness. Antares, you are a good person... if you want to be.”

  Her words were soothing and bright, they seemed to still the darkness within him. But his head was clouded and full of doubts, though his heart screamed at him, begging him to believe her. Just to be able to believe in something once more.

  He silenced his mind and soaked in the moment, feeling a surge of mixed emotions pour through him, stinging him, like the feeling of numbed fingers slowly regaining sensation. He reached tighter around her waist and held her even closer. Their eyes met and he whispered, “I think I love you.”

  She smiled softly and he released her. She removed her gloves and took his hand. They looked out over the cliff’s edge, it was getting dark and some of the stars were beginning to appear.

  Kira’s presence, her kindness, it filled him with warmth and meaning. And he decided there was a purpose to life after all. Regardless of whether or not he lived after death, he had purpose now, and that was friendship. Companionship. It was her. It was the effect she had on him. She lifted him from the very depths of his wounded soul. And he could lift others. Even if their actions, as individuals, were hopelessly lost in time, they were still very powerful and significant in the moment. And nothing could take away that moment. Even if no one remembered it.

  This rekindled sense of hope and companionship filled him like a fresh breath of the sweetest air he'd ever tasted.

  But could it really be so easy? He let go of her hand and walked away a few steps. He gazed upon the ruined city, it was difficult to see now but even in darkness the image seemed to cry foul. Standing there alone, facing it, the world seemed very grim again. Could Antares be a good person? He wondered this, after all that had happened, after everything he’d done, could it really be so easy as that?

  “How do I do it?” he asked himself and the world.

  He heard Kira come up behind him. She stopped at his side and slipped her arms around him again. He took her hands. Felt her soft, warm skin. It made him melt.

  “You do it,” she said, “by looking forward. By choosing what you do today, and every day after, instead of thinking about what you did yesterday and every day before.”

  He breathed in deeply. The cold, ash-scented air cleared his mind. “Kira,” he said softly, “even in a thousand years I could never do enough to make up for what I’ve already done.”

  “Virtue,” she replied gingerly, “isn’t a balancing scale with all the good on one side and all the bad on the other. It’s about what is in your heart. About what you want, and what you’re trying to do now.” She squeezed his hands and he squeezed back. And for the first time since that cruel moment where he saw Ariana, and all of his memories returned, he didn’t see only bleakness. Now there was a tiny light, the beginnings of a new hope.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. There was a peaceful silence between them. They stood together, gazing out at the stars as they filled the sky.

  Antares thought of the connection between them, about how peaceful and safe it felt to be near her. Kira gave him that sense of stability he had been searching for, the feeling he had missed since Sierra passed away.

  “I had a twin sister once,” he said gently, daring to open his mind to his memories. “She was a lot like you. Her name was Sierra.”

  “Were you very close?”

  “Yes. We were. But something very terrible happened to her,” he let out an anguished sigh. “I’ve never forgiven myself for not being there for her.”

  “What happened?”

  “When I was at the academy, she came to live on the grounds as a servant to the masters. I wanted her to come, and got special permission from my mentor, Master Quintus. But he had other interests in her… I was so happy to have her near again that I pretended not to notice his eyes following her.” He squeezed Kira’s hands tightly and closed his eyes.

  “I wanted to believe she was safe so desperately that I convinced myself of it, and I was so busy with my own life, my own ambitions, that I wasn’t there for her.” He paused, unable to speak for a moment. “He took her one day, against her will. And did... things to her... the police found her in the river. Strangled.”

  Kira didn’t say anything right away. Eventually her voice cracked, “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said.

  “It’s not your fault either, Antares. You can’t blame yourself for a wrong you didn’t do. It’s not fair, and it’s not healthy.”

  He inhaled deeply. “If I had acted differently… it never would have happened.”

  “You didn’t do it. And you didn’t want for it to happen. So it isn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t change the way I feel. Even now it shakes me inside. And then… then it filled me with so much wrath.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I confronted him. I wanted vindication. No, I wanted revenge. I couldn’t ignore Sierra’s screams from the grave and I could think of nothing else but my hate. At that time in my life, I felt like I had nothing more to lose, that I’d lost everything already. Sierra had been my last and truest connection to the world, and now she was gone. When you've lost everything, it’s strangely liberating. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about consequences. You are free to do anything, and that made it easy. I attacked him in his own office. And, in that instant, I became a murderer.” The word was difficult to say, but he wouldn’t soften the truth. Kira deserved to know what he was. “I took the law into my own hands and that was how everything started.”

  Her eyes begged to learn more but her lips were too respectful to ask. Instead she just looked at him, full of concern and compassion, waiting for him to speak.

  “The academy was a very dark, cruel place. With brutality that no one knew. When I slew Quintus… the students lashed out against the other masters too. I couldn’t control them. I didn’t try to stop them. I helped them. We fought for our lives. Or for our revenge. Or just because we didn’t know what else to do. When it was over, and we realized we weren’t safe, we ran away. Left Skyhaven. Only fought those who tried to stop us. Only destroyed what stood in our way. I went to Andar… here,” he looked out at the fallen city. It was almost impossible to see now. “And they followed me. Because they were afraid. We were all afraid. We didn’t know where to go. Where we could be safe.”

  “Andar was your home, wasn’t it?” she asked. “And that’s why you came?”

  “Yes. I came because I had an emotional connection to Andar. And I had several... unresolved feelings here.”

  She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He frowned, and let go of her hand. “I was in love once, or thought I was.” He looked away. “She meant the world to me. We were even supposed to marry. But it didn’t work out. And she left me for my best friend, Merak. I never got over that. And I wasn’t able to forgive either of them for what, to me, felt like a terrible betrayal. They settled down together in Andar, purchased a house and had a baby. He’d left the academy a year early to begin his life with her, so he wasn’t with us when we slew the masters. He wasn’t a part of my so-called rebellion. So when he heard what we did, and that we were coming to Andar, he feared for his family. Believed I’d snapped and was exacting vengeance on any who’d wronged me. He was certain that I was coming, and that I’d make him pay for his betrayal. And indeed I came. But I wasn’t interested in vengeance…”

  “You wanted help,” said Kira perceptively. “You wanted your friends to help you fix what you’d done. You were looking for support.”

  “I came back to see Ariana... I don’t know why. I don’t remember what my intentions were exactly, but I thought she could help me. And I sought closure to scars that were still bleeding inside me. So I followed my feelings and nothing
else. I went to the place where my feelings were strongest. And, when I arrived, Merak attacked me. There was no way for me to explain why I had come. That I meant no harm. And… he died right before Ariana’s eyes…” Antares looked at the ground.

  “That sounds like self-defense,” said Kira.

  “Partially,” said Antares. “But there was more to it than that. Yes, I wanted to survive and yes, I felt threatened, but there was something more. Something smaller I felt, just for an instant, when I stabbed my sword into him... vindication, I think, for my envy. He had made for himself the life I always dreamed was rightfully mine. If I couldn’t have it, then I didn’t want him to have it either. Even if it was just a tiny bit, and for only a moment, the feeling was there.”

  Kira said nothing, simply listened. She was difficult to read.

  “Merak was a good man, in every way. And I realized in that moment, when he hit the floor, that I could never justify what I’d done. And seeing the anguish in Ariana’s eyes… remembering how much I’d cared for her and realizing that I’d just caused her a lifetime’s worth of pain… it was surreal.” He stared out into the distance. “Like everything in the world slammed into me at the same time. I stared up at the sky, wanting to scream. And raised my hand, letting all my emotions flow. Never before and never since have I tapped into magic so deeply, like I did on that night. All of my agony fueled that flame, amplified by a ring I never needed. And that’s when the city caught fire…

  “We left, fighting our way out just like we’d fought our way in. The city had already been unstable and this new chaos was just the spark it needed to explode into civil war. I didn’t want to stay. My last hope rested in Caythis, my second cousin. I didn’t know him well, but I admired him greatly. And believed, as much as I could, that he might be able to put things right. Somehow. Or tell me what to do.”

  Antares paused, collecting his thoughts. “As we left for Citadel, we heard that an army was coming to intercept us. I split our force and gave Rigil instructions to ambush the army once they’d engaged me and my men. That never happened. Rigil simply left and… well… you know where he went and what he did. As I fought for my life, with those who hadn’t deserted me, against soldiers who’d abandoned Citadel to kill us, I came to this very place…” he disentangled himself from her and looked around.