Spellshift

by Allen Snell

  “If you could rely on extreme emotions, it’d be as simple as thinking about them. But sooner or later you’ll need to force yourself to travel where you don’t want to be. Instinct won’t help you there. I’ll have to explain the true nature of it. But first, more tea.”

  Garen hated waiting, but he lived on her time. They took their discussion inside. Once the tea was ready, they sat on floor cushions. Between them a heating geonode glowed orange and kept the cabin toasty. He saw the warmth relax her.

  She spoke between sips. “The Spirit Realm isn’t some distant, disconnected reality. It’s just a different layer, one that isn’t defined by space. Things don’t move there. There’s nothing to move in. They’re defined by what they are, not where they are.”

  “There must be something awful strong in that tea,” Garen teased. “You’re talking about it like you’ve been there.”

  “We both have, you just didn’t understand it. Right now, your soul exists as a thread between the Material and the Spirit Realm.” She set her tea down and pantomimed stretching a string vertically. “Everyone’s does. Once you step across, you’re no further away from any other soul than where you started.” Her right hand stayed in place while she pretended to move the other end of the string around. “No matter where they are, it’s all connected by the thread of their soul.”

  “So, that lets me travel to anyone?” Garen asked.

  “Anyone you know well enough to pick out their thread. I’ll spare you the flowery descriptions and let you see for yourself.”

  Garen didn’t expect to practice anything else today. “What, now?”

  “Once I share the memory of how I split the spirits, you’ll realize how essential this skill is,” Karna said. “I’ve been building up to it for some time. Your practice will also give you a chance to check in with the Ambersong boy and make sure all is well.”

  “In case of what? This is Drake we’re talking about. I could barely keep up with one-spirit-Drake. Two-spirit-Drake is probably on top of the world.”

  “That’s half of my fears,” she sighed. “But let’s assume all is well and this boils down to just practice. We’ve got time to sit and try at it for the evening. You remember what it feels like to reach past the simple light magic and pull from the Gate of Truth?”

  Between the healing and the memory-searching this year, he’d done his share. It didn’t have anything in common with traveling. “Yeah,” Garen said with uncertainty.

  “It’ll be like that. But instead, you’ll reach past the kiddy stuff and even past the weightier spells you draw from the gate. You’ll go so far that instead of reaching further down the well, you’ll be swimming at the bottom.”

  “Then what? I just find where Drake’s soul connects?”

  “There’s no where in the Spirit Realm. Think of it like a tiny dot deep underground. It isn’t, but imagine for me. A hundred thousand lines stretch from that one point, each to a person walking around. The physical end moves, but the spirit end stays put. Everything is already in one place. You simply have to discern it. And remember, you’ve done this before. Don’t overthink it.”

  Garen rolled his neck and stood up.

  Karna laughed. “Oh, I’d sit down. This is going to take a while, and you’ll be every sort of disoriented when you get there. The closer you are to the ground, the better.”

  Garen begrudgingly took her advice, all except for the part about overthinking it. He imagined how strange it would be to open his eyes and be somewhere else, looking at someone else. He wondered what kind of sensation would accompany being in the Spirit Realm. He also couldn’t help but try to guess what kind of danger had Kallista this worried.

  You don’t belong in the Spirit Realm. You shouldn’t even be passing through.

  “And what’s the worst that could happen?”

  I know your thoughts. It’s impolite to ask the consequences when you’re already planning to act.

  Garen relaxed as he realized they were simply personal reservations rather than world-breaking ones. “Alright, let’s try this.”

  The hours passed slowly as Garen repeatedly tried to spellshift. Reaching the Gate of Truth wasn’t too hard, but he felt like he was stretching as far down as he had ever tried. There was simply a limit to how far past the gate he could reach. It was like a cord that was pulled past its length and threatening to snap. His stomach was starting to feel like that cord. Garen came out of the trance over and over gasping for air.

  “This is great,” Karna laughed. Garen watched in confusion as she cackled. It had been a slow transition of her becoming more relaxed around him, but something about her laugh still gave him chills. “I’d forgotten what it was like my first time trying. Your body actually forgets to breathe when you’re that far down.”

  “How is that funny? It’s torture. And every time I feel a little more like I’m going to throw up.”

  “I remember that, too! Good news, you’re close. The last and hardest part is letting go of this side. Your soul is the thread between the two realms, and you’ll have to let this one fall before you can reform it elsewhere.”

  “Thanks. That’s barely helpful,” he shook his head.

  “It should be more than enough. Give my regards to the Ambersong boy.”

  “You have to stop calling Drake that. Makes you sound so old.”

  Karna hardened her expression. Getting a reaction out of her made Garen smile. “Whatever you call him, stay focused,” she said.

  He closed his eyes again and reached faster and deeper toward the gate than he thought possible. The sensation was similar to the tipping point in a chair, certain it’s about to take you backward, but hanging in suspense while the fear cuts through you.

  I have you. Let go.

  The imaginary chair tipped. Garen felt himself falling. The fear gave way to complete shock. He had no idea where he was. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything. And as he tried to take a deep breath to focus, he realized even that sensation was impossible. He wasn’t suffocating. But nothing was as it should be. He couldn’t clear his throat or open his eyes or lean on any of his other senses. He was nothing. A speck of dust tossed into the sea. All he could do was feel. Not his skin or the temperature or even his own heartbeat. None of those existed. He could only feel. And he wasn’t sure what he felt, but it was more than he could contain. He was lost and found, blind and omniscient. He showered in a fountain of suffering, kicking at puddles of endless joy.

  This is not your world. You must leave it now!

  He wanted to leave, that much was still true. But he couldn’t remember how. Or himself. Everything was slipping, and at the tip of what should have been his tongue was a name, his name, that he couldn’t entirely remember. It started harsh, like an animal growling, but beyond that…

  Don’t worry about yourself. I have you intact. Think of Drake and you will find him.

  Garen remembered Drake. He was a kind, gentle friend. He stood entirely too straight to be comfortable. He used silly, formal words when he told stories. And if you squinted just right, he kind of looked like a giant stalk of celery. Garen laughed at the drunken nonsense, but no sound came out. The silence of his laugh transformed euphoria into panic. He had to find Drake, now. The fountain dried up and the puddles vanished. He felt his lack of arms and legs again instead of senseless emotions. He remembered the truth of Drake. A warrior and a dignitary. A man pampered with power and luxury, then the weight of it all switched from beneath him to his shoulders. Drake. A quiet bottle of honest obligation.

  “It’s not necessarily true, but they would be inclined to listen.”

  Garen saw light and heard the familiar voice. He found the sensation of warmth. It was a sweeter discovery than he’d ever appreciated before. But the light was spinning, and the warmth was suffocating, and the chair still felt like it was tipping backwards. The only step left was what comes after.

  The back of Garen’s head hit the stone floor with a thud.
He swallowed the acidic taste in his throat and gasped for air.

  “Who’s there?” Drake stopped pacing and spun to face the sound. By the time Garen’s vision cleared enough to distinguish him from the blurs, Drake had a trio of stones spinning in his hand, ready to strike.

  “Garen? How did you get in here?” Drake asked, his startled voice sounded like he was shouting.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Garen’s head swayed as he reoriented himself, “Though I’m not here for a spar if you’d like to put those away.”

  The fear in Drake’s eyes finally washed away and the stones vanished with them.

  “No, we’ll save that for later. It’s good to see you!” Drake offered Garen a hand and helped him to his feet. The gesture was polite, although the enthusiasm and personal touch was unexpected. Even after helping him up, Drake gave him a quick embrace. Garen barely knew what to do with himself.

  “I know that it’s only been a matter of weeks, but I’m delighted to see a friendly face. Please, take a seat.” Drake kept an arm around him and helped his unsteady legs over to a red armchair.

  “Whew, you’re a little kinder than Grandma Karna has me used to,” Garen said as he sat, trying to keep up from down separate in his head.

  All of Drake’s face showed his confusion. “Karna? Do you mean that your grandmother is alive?”

  “Oh yeah, I guess that’s news, too. Very alive, just not very helpful. At least for helping you,” Garen took a deep breath. He tried to remember how his body used to know when to breathe. “I learned how to step across the kingdoms in a blink. And how to make myself want to curl up and die. Really wish I could separate those two powers, though.”

  “My apologies for the discomfort, but that is fantastic. You’re becoming quite the marvel,” he said with uncommon excitement.

  “Yeah,” Garen turned his focus to their surroundings, “but that’s not half as surprising as your arrangement. What happened to scouting?” He eyed the four-post bed and the patterned stonework along the high ceiling. There were more pieces of ornate and unnecessary furniture scattered across the open floor than most rooms in Vikar-Tola’s palace. This was a bedchamber fit for a king. “I’m happy for you, but it’s not exactly how I pictured the life of a tunneling spy.”

  “Yes, there’s quite a bit you can’t do underground. Especially when the people actually want you above ground.”

  Drake paced as he spoke. He took long strides in front of Garen’s chair back and forth, bouncing with energy. “The Western people have nothing, Garen. No leadership, no vision. Sarkos didn’t have seconds in command. He had Pyralis, and everyone else was subservient. Most of them, Sanstric included, have scattered out of Nhilim. There’s been neither signs of the Apatten nor their leader near the capital. Micah couldn’t even find an authority to puppet up for them. They were lost without a king.”

  Garen took one more glance around the regal chamber. “So, you volunteered?”

  “It’s temporary, obviously. We decided to be honest. I addressed Nhilim with news that the Spellswords were forced to intervene, thereby preventing a war. We spread word across the Western Kingdom. Some of them are actually grateful. But I have their king’s blood on my hands. The longer I rule with it, the more I’m inviting someone else to seize power the same way.”

  Garen nodded. “Smart as ever. I’m glad to see it’s still you up there. You kind of surprised me a little at first. I’m not used to seeing you this,” he paused to find the right word, “lively.”

  Drake smiled ear to ear. “I understand. It’s been a difficult year for both of us. I won’t pretend to carry the same burdens you have, but I’m learning to let mine go. And it feels amazing to finally be helping people. We’re making real changes out here.”

  “Is Morgan still with you?”

  Drake froze in his pacing for a moment, then continued unaffected. “Yes, she’s been everything to me. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

  “Wow, that’s really good to hear,” Garen said. “You’re handling the situation better than I’d guessed.”

  “Change is everything, and everything changes. Now, we finally have the power to make the right ones.”

  “Well, keep doing whatever it is you do. I’ve got a lot more to practice. Karna thinks I’ll need Naia’s help to separate your spirits, but I’ll be back as soon as we know what we’re doing.”

  Drake waved Garen’s concerns away. “Take as long as it needs. With this kind of earth magic, we’re doing incredible work. I can transform their dry, lifeless soil. I’m even training a select group how to work with stone and rebuild Nhilim for their own pride. As for the next Earth Spellsword, I haven’t heard from Micah or Idrian if they’ve chosen one yet. Belen could be our top candidate for all I know.”

  Garen couldn’t read Drake’s expression well enough to tell if he was serious. “Yeah, I should probably visit him and Naia at some point now that it’s an option.”

  Drake paused again and grinned. “Right. You should go see Naia. For Belen’s sake.”

  “Stop it with that. Just because you’re king or steward or whatever ridiculous role they threw at you doesn’t mean you get to play that game.”

  Drake held the grin steady. “Change is inevitable, Garen. Fighting it is just like flying.”

  Garen cocked his head, trying to solve the riddle.

  “Only I can do it.” Drake’s eye contact continued well past the point of comfort.

  Garen looked away with a deep sigh. “You can keep your flight. I’ve got something better.” In an effort not to overthink it, Garen closed his eyes and dove into the Gate of Truth.

  A warning next time! Kallista shouted. I’ve got a part in this, too.

  Garen wanted to respond, but he was past the point of speech. The sea of emotion was overtaking him. Only this time, he kept a singular thought in his head rather than needing to find it later. He imagined Karna. He remembered the bitter defense she kept up when they first met. He pictured the disappointed sadness in her eyes at how little was left in this world for her. And he heard the dry, broken, and beautiful laugh of a distant mother and grandmother pretending she didn’t care.

  Then, he actually heard the laugh. The chills ran up his spine. Having a spine meant he’d taken form again. He still couldn’t see, and the sense of up and down hadn’t returned yet. Once he realized he wasn’t touching solid ground, he decided down was the direction he was falling. He remembered how to open his eyes in time to witness the hills below growing larger.

  He could still hear Karna’s laugh in the air above. He saw her resting on the wind and calmed his panic enough to summon the same. At his speed of descent, the fall did not stop immediately. The conjured wind slowed him. He was nearly level with the roof of her cabin before he came to a balancing point. Garen lowered himself and lay flat on the hard ground. Karna landed a moment later, her laugh quelled into a youthful smirk.

  “All my life I’ve wanted to do that to someone else. Nereus was the worst. Used to wait until he knew I was spellshifting to him and soar up on a column of ice.”

  Garen shared no amusement. “And so you tried it on my second trip?”

  “Life is short. And if you can start living that way now, you won’t have a list of regrets as long as mine someday. Well, one less now, at least.”

  Garen stood, brushing the dirt from his back and stretching his arms upward. His joints still felt like they had tar in them, but he was standing on his own. He tried taking a step forward. The limb asked him “How?” and Garen had no reasonable solution. He stared at his feet. His mind tried to wrap itself around space and how to pass through it.

  “In we go,” Karna said, the knuckles of her tiny hand digging into Garen’s back. With the push, he stumbled forward and his legs caught him. Garen kept walking, hoping not to forget any other basics of survival on the way.

  Garen talked as they went inside. “So, I’m ready now, right? I talked to Drake. He’s fine. Well, he’s in a weird place, but h
e’s fine and now I’m fine and we can do this?” Garen took in a deep gasp of air, his first in a while.

  “I know you can hear yourself. And you know that you need another day. Stepping between worlds can take its toll on you.”

  “Are you sure?” Garen asked. Karna nodded. “One more day,” Garen said, falling back stiffly into his pile of hide-covered straw. He smiled, registering how sleep-drunk he sounded. “One more day and we’re done here.”

  The slow sound of plucking strings filled the cabin. It helped Garen find rhythm to his breathing.

  “One more day,” Karna echoed, playing slower still until the somber lullaby delivered him rest.

  Chapter 20

  The morning meal with Karna was abnormally quiet. Garen tried to ignore the feeling of tension and enjoy the eggs and sweetcakes. He didn’t realize how spoiled his appetites had become until Vikar-Tola fell. A year ago on his own, he was doing the exact same thing Karna usually survived on—occasional trips into town and boiling the cheapest meats and vegetables into a soup that would last for days.

  With Garen’s idle hands at her cabin, he had plenty of chances to hunt, forage, or make trips to Russyx. Karna had no shortage of Jundux coin, so they’d dined rather frivolously. As ready as he was to rejoin his friends, he had to admit, this was a good life. Some days it even felt like a normal life under the roof of a blood relative. A wave of sadness that he would likely never return hit him. He noticed a remarkably similar expression on Karna as she stared out the tiny window next to the table.

  Garen let out a deep breath. “I’m really going to miss—”

  “Oh, stop it. I need your sympathy like I need a new home.”