by Gav Thorpe
‘A seer?’ scoffed Korlandril. ‘You completely fail to divine my romantic intents and yet think you might become a seer?’
‘I divined your intent and ignored it,’ lied Thirianna, laying a hand on his arm. ‘I did not wish to encourage you; to admit your feelings for me would be to bring them to the light and that was something I wished to avoid, for the sake of both of us.’
Korlandril waved away her arguments, pulling his arm from her grasp.
‘If you have not the same feelings for me, then simply say so. Do not spare my pride for your comfort. Do not hide behind this excuse of changing Paths.’
‘It is true, it is not an excuse! You love Thirianna the poet. We are alike enough at the moment, our Paths different yet moving in the same general direction. When I become a seer, I while not be Thirianna the poet. You will not love that person.’
‘Why deny me the right to find out?’ Korlandril’s fists were balled at his side and anger flashed in his eyes, scaring Thirianna. ‘Who are you to judge what will or will not be? You are not even on the Path and now you think you can claim the powers of the seer?’
‘If it is true that you feel the same when I have become a seer, and I feel the same too, then whatever will happen will come to pass.’
Korlandril caught an angry reply before he said it. His expression changed to one of hope.
‘If you feel the same?’ he said. ‘You admit that you have feelings for me.’
‘Thirianna the Poet has feelings for you, she always has,’ Thirianna admitted.
‘Then why do we not embrace this shared feeling?’ Korlandril asked, stepping forwards and taking Thirianna’s hands in his. Now it was her turn to pull away. She could not bring herself to look at him when she spoke.
‘If I indulge this passion with you, it would hold me back, perhaps trap me here as the poet, forever writing my verses of love in secret.’
‘Then we stay together, poet and artist! What is so wrong with that?’
‘It is not healthy!’ Having seen what obsession had done to Aradryan, Thirianna was in no mind to suffer it herself. ‘You know that it is unwise to become trapped in ourselves. Our lives must be in constant motion, moving from one Path to the next, developing our senses of self and the universe. To over-indulge leads to the darkness that came before. It attracts the attention of… Her. She Who Thirsts.’
Thirianna waited while Korlandril flexed his fingers. She could hear the quick beating of his heart and feel his pain rising to the surface. Yet for all that she felt for him, he would have to be the second friend in a cycle that she would turn away.
‘What we feel is not wrong!’ said the artist. ‘Since the founding of the craftworlds our people have loved and survived. Why should we be any different?’
‘You use the same arguments as Aradryan,’ Thirianna admitted softly, turning on Korlandril. ‘He asked me to forget the Path and join him. Even if I had loved him I could not do that. I cannot do that with you. Though I have deep feelings for you, I would no more risk my eternal spirit for you than I would step out into the void of space and hope to breathe.’
Seeing the agonised expression on Korlandril’s face was too much for Thirianna. To part with Aradryan had been a heartache; to spurn Korlandril for whom she had once felt so deeply was too much. Tears welled up in Thirianna’s eyes.
‘Please leave,’ she said.
Korlandril’s anguish was all-consuming and it frightened Thirianna. His eyes narrowed to slits and he bared his teeth as he stalked back and forth across the room.
‘I cannot help you,’ Thirianna said, staring with misery at the anguish being played out in Korlandril’s actions. ‘I know you are in pain, but it will pass.’
‘Pain?’ spat Korlandril. ‘What do you know of my pain?’
Korlandril half-raised his hand, fist clenched. Stepping back, fearing he would strike her, Thirianna raised a hand to her mouth in horror.
Korlandril fled, crying and trembling. Thirianna took a step after him, full of concern. She stopped herself, fearful more of what he might do to her than himself. She had seen something in his eyes that she had only before witnessed in the sanctuary of the Aspect shrines: hate and anger.
This did not bode well for either of her friends and more than ever she wanted to know what would happen.
Walking amongst the forest of seers past, Thirianna allowed her mind to open to their thoughts. She passed between them, near the heart of the Dome of Crystal Seers, intrigued by their diamond-like bodies, still clothed in the robes they had worn when they had finally passed into the otherworld of the infinity circuit.
Their thoughts were like a background noise in her mind. It pulsed around her, under her, over her, threading along the microscopic veins of psychic crystal that enmeshed the dome. She could feel their sentience around her, each coming to the fore as she walked past his or her immobile form.
She caught glimpses of life in the infinity circuit; a world of colour and sound and light. She saw also beyond the veil, peering at snippets of the realm of the purely psychic. Since she was a child she had been taught to raise barriers against that world, to protect herself and others against the creatures that lingered within.
It was a hard habit to break and she could not open anything more than a chink in her psychic defences to let in the vibrant minds of the crystal seers. Just as she glimpsed something interesting, instinct would snap her away, moving her thoughts elsewhere, throwing up defences against the psychic intrusion.
‘It will be the fate of Kelamith to end here,’ said a voice behind her. ‘Perhaps it will be the fate of Thirianna. That is not yet known.’
Thirianna turned to see a farseer standing beside one of the statue-like eldar, one hand on its shoulder. He was clad in a robe of thick black velvet, embroidered with runes and sigils in golden and silver thread. About his neck and wrists were many charms.
He was a little shorter than Thirianna, and broad of shoulder for an eldar. His eyes were mismatched; one a vibrant purple, the other a luminous yellow. They glittered with psychic energy.
The farseer had his other hand outstretched and above it a single rune gently spun in the air, turning end over end. Thirianna recognised it immediately. It was her name, her rune.
‘Are you Kelamith?’ she asked. ‘You were expecting me?’
‘Kelamith will expect you, yes,’ replied the seer. His voice carried more gravitas than any other Thirianna had heard. His intonation, his choice of words, seemed archaic yet spoke of the future. It was difficult to understand what he was saying. ‘He will know that you would come. He will be here.’
‘When will he be here?’ she asked. ‘If you are not Kelamith, who are you?’
‘He will be here now,’ said the seer. His hand closed around the rune and his eyes dimmed. They focussed on Thirianna. ‘Apologies, child. I am Kelamith. I will guide you on the Path of the Seer.’
VISION
The Seeking Shaft – Arrow of Kurnous. A guiding rune, the Seeking Shaft will always find its mark, no matter where or when it is released. In the most complex journeys across the skein, cause-and-effect cannot be easily attributed to a single personality. In these circumstances, a wise seer will turn to the Seeking Shaft to identify a particular individual not yet known to the seer.
A sense of relief filled Thirianna as she watched the crystal-verses of her poems melt away in the reblender. As she fed each into the warm interior of the device, their words lifted away from her, seeping deeper into her memory, becoming a thing of the past rather than the present.
She had saved this task until last, unsure what the destruction of her work would do to her. She was glad: a final closing of the chapter of Thirianna the Poet, as Thirianna the Seer would concern herself only with the future.
As the last of the crystals dissolved in the orange glow of the reblender, Thirianna felt the last ties to her previous life slipping away. For many poets what she had done bordered on vandalism, but in her mind Thirianna kne
w that nothing good could ever come from her poems being known by another, least of all Korlandril.
She had not heard from him since their argument; she had missed the appointment with their friends while she had been in the Dome of Crystal Seers. She had spent the last cycle tidying up her apartment for whoever next chose to live there, and her few belongings were gathered in a shoulderbag waiting for her by the door. There was little she wanted to take with her on the next part of her life, and even less that she wanted to keep to remind her of the past.
Content that she was ready, Thirianna stood up, slung the bag over her shoulder and left the rooms. From now on she would dwell in the Chambers of the Seers.
Arriving in the heart of Alaitoc, close to the gardens where she had met Alaiteir, Thirianna secured herself new quarters. Having received no guidance or instruction from Kelamith on how to proceed, Thirianna located a suite of unoccupied rooms – the trace on the infinity circuit showed that the seer who had lived there had moved on to walk the Path of Service, which Thirianna considered a good omen.
It took hardly any time at all to unpack the few books and crystals she had brought with her. She inspected the view from the apartment’s balcony and found that it overlooked the rock-strewn slope where she had spoken to Alaiteir. Never one to trust coincidence when farseers and the infinity circuit were involved, Thirianna smiled to herself.
‘Thirianna will be late.’
Kelamith had arrived without announcement by the infinity circuit. Surprised, Thirianna blushed as the farseer stepped onto the balcony. He had the same strange, distant look in his eyes as when they had first met.
‘I did not remember receiving an invitation,’ she confessed.
‘Kelamith will not send the invitation as he sees that Thirianna will be late, so instead he will come here for Thirianna himself.’
‘Do you always speak like that?’ Thirianna asked, annoyed at the farseer’s presumption.
Kelamith slowly closed his eyes. When he opened them again the witchlight had disappeared. He bowed his head slightly in apology.
‘A risk attached to the work I undertake,’ he explained. ‘I delve deeper along the skein than my companions. I examine with the narrow eye that which attracts the attention of their broad gazes.’
‘Where will I be late?’ Thirianna said.
‘I do not remember,’ said Kelamith. ‘The thread has gone. My presence here has assured that.’
‘You do not remember?’ Thirianna said. ‘Only a moment ago you spoke about it.’
‘And a moment ago it ceased to be a possibility and thus never existed,’ said Kelamith. ‘One cannot remember a thing that has not existed. Really, child, you need to grasp these fundamental realities quickly if we are to make any sort of progress.’
Taken aback, Thirianna had no answer to that. She thought it better to keep to a specific topic.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘Into the mind of Alaitoc,’ Kelamith announced with a broad smile. ‘I hope you are ready.’
The chamber was one of many, egg-shaped and arranged alongside the others like a maze of bubbles in a foam, joined by narrow archways. The walls were glowing with the conduits of the infinity circuit, thousands of crystalline capillaries interwoven with each other and the fabric of the rooms.
As they had walked through an arterial tunnel into the depths of Alaitoc, Thirianna had glimpsed other eldar in the adjoining chambers, some alone and others in groups. Each was surrounded by a small constellation of runes, turning in the air, bobbing up and down, spiralling and climbing, curving and dipping in their eccentric orbits. Kelamith paid them no attention and offered no explanation as to what they were looking for.
Kelamith stood in the centre of the room and held out his hands, palms down, thumbs splayed and touching. Thirianna felt a surge of psychic energy and a node of the infinity circuit extruded from the interlaced conduits on the floor, pulsing with green and blue light.
‘Our minds are a fragile thing, child,’ said Kelamith. ‘From the moment we are born to the moment we pass on, our thoughts are open for all of the universe to see. There are creatures that desire them, powers that hunger after them, and for that reason even as you learnt to speak and walk, to master your joy and woe, you were taught how to suppress the energies of your mind.’
The farseer took a step back and waved to Thirianna to stand beside the node. She did as he instructed, wanting to reach out and touch the glimmering crystal stalagmite but afraid to do so.
‘We all possess the ability to unleash the power of our minds in amazing ways, child,’ said Kelamith. ‘Whether it is in the shaping of a thought or the mastery of the deadly Aspect arts, our mind is our most powerful tool. We suppress that power to ward away the dangers such ability will bring, but as a seer you must embrace it.’
‘What do you wish me to do?’ asked Thirianna, full of trepidation.
‘You must let go of your thoughts,’ said the farseer. ‘You must allow them to be free and boundless. You must give up a lifetime of worry and cast away all of the protection, unlearning that which you had to learn.’
‘Does that not attract the attention of the Great Enemy?’ The slightest thought of She Who Thirsts sent a shudder through Thirianna, of fear and loathing.
‘In time you will use the runes as your shield, focussing the psychic energy you will channel,’ explained Kelamith. ‘The defences will always be there, yours to call upon should you need them. Do not be cautious though, for such interruptions may set back your development and retard your ultimate power. At first you will conduct this unlearning within the safety of the infinity circuit. And do not be afraid, for I am also here with you, child.’
Kelamith gestured for Thirianna to place her hands on the infinity circuit node. It was cool to the touch, though veined with warmth on her palms.
‘Speak after me, and let your thoughts flow with the words,’ said Kelamith. Thirianna closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel of the node in her hands and the voice of Kelamith, which came slowly, rhythmically on the edge of hearing.
‘In the skein there is nothing. There are no names and there are no beings. This is where the mind originates. There is the mind but nothing is physical. Forms obtain the mind and thoughts are created. This is called Passing. In the not-yet-formed the skein divides and splits but there is no time passing. This is called Being. There is an energy that gives life to all things, allowing form to obtain mind and create thought. Forms that create thought share in this energy. This is called Life. Let slip Life, and become Being. Let slip Being and become Passing. Let slip Passing and become Mind. Become Mind and be one with the skein.’
Thirianna chanted the words, matching the pitch and cadence of the farseer. She dimly recognised them from her childhood, though they seemed in a different order. As she spoke each syllable, she felt herself relaxing, in body and thought.
She could no longer feel the node between her fingers. She continued chanting, repeating the words, feeling them entering her subconscious, triggering reactions in her thoughts that she could not feel but sensed in other ways.
Her body dissolved away, as the crystals had melted in the reblender. Her limbs, her torso, her fingers, her face, all had gone, leaving Thirianna as a floating core of thought.
‘Open your eyes, child.’
Thirianna did so, though she had no eyes to open.
She found herself in a realm of light and movement. She could see the flicker of other eldar around her, like candles in twilight. A tracery of white, the infinity circuit, linked every other light together, stretching on without horizon into the impossible distance.
Energy flowed along the maze, back and forth, surging and ebbing, binding everything together with its movement, linking the eldar with one another.
And beyond.
Beyond was something even more spectacular, defying rationalisation. Beyond were the constantly shattering panes of existence; the overlapping planes of destiny; the
interwoven threads of fate. The present surrounded Thirianna, but just out of reach was the future, and in the darkness behind was the past. Every life, every thought, every movement, every motive, every emotion, weaving together in a dazzling tapestry of cause and effect. It branched out, splitting and dividing like cells, spawning entire new universes and possibilities with every passing moment.
This was the skein, and it was beautiful.
And too much. Too much to see, to comprehend, to understand.
Thirianna passed out.
It took three cycles until Thirianna had recovered sufficiently from her first experience of the skein to contact Kelamith. The farseer had been notably absent as Thirianna had rested in her new rooms, and had offered no explanation of what had happened to her. Thirianna considered the possibility that Kelamith had known what would happen, and had foreseen that she would regain her mental harmony in time, and chosen not to intervene.
Just that briefest glimpse of the skein had opened Thirianna’s mind to the wondrous possibilities that lay before her. Rather than being fearful of approaching the infinity circuit again she was excited by the prospect. Yet it had taken three days of meditation and contemplation before she had been able to think of the skein without being dizzied by its power.
Midway through the fourth cycle after the episode, she received an invitation from Kelamith to join him in the gardens next to her chambers. He made it clear that the two of them would be venturing into the infinity circuit again, which set Thirianna’s mind racing in all directions.
As she made her way down towards the parkland, her first thought was one of concern. What if she were incapable of interacting with the skein? What if she lacked the psychic power to deal with its infinite possibilities? She dismissed the idea as she reached the edge of the gardens. Kelamith had hinted that her mind’s defences would be more of a hindrance than a help at this early stage; if he had any further worries over her suitability he would have voiced them or refused to become her mentor altogether. His lack of concern for her wellbeing led Thirianna to believe that what she had encountered, and her reaction, was commonplace.