Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five)

by Gregory J. Downs

  She stepped forward, bit by bit, until she was walking down the slight incline that led from the north gate to the gray sands beyond. A wasteland. That was what the Golden Nation was… at least as far as she could see. Clouds obscured the sky, and the absence of stars and moon made it twice as hard for even her nymph eyes to see.

  The Golden Sepulcher sprung up behind her as she walked, a mountain of jutting, metal spires, a pyramid of interlocking edges, like the blades of a thousand giants’ swords piercing the earth. It was lit by tiny pinpoints of light, open windows and torch-flame. Elia squinted back into the dark Beyond. Could it really be this easy? She could escape, if she tried… running off into the sand, alone but free.

  “Don’t,” said a voice, and she jumped nearly a foot in the air. Gramling was right behind her! She turned on him, fuming, then paused. There was something… different. The darkness made it hard to tell, but he seemed… calmer. Cleaner. Earnest, even. Like Gribly.

  “Stop that,” she said, sounding far less confident than she had intended. “Stop it… whatever you’re doing. You’re not him. Don’t try to convince me you are!” She almost shrieked the last word.

  Gramling sighed, tried to take her hands, and shrugged when she pulled them away. “I’m not doing anything of the sort… but I know you won’t believe that.”

  “Why are we here?” Elia interjected, but he pretended not to hear her. His glance went back to the hole in the gate, and his mouth quirked into a smile. She tried to slow her heart, but it would not obey. Something was different, it screamed… but she ignored it.

  “A bit obvious, don’t you think? Burning a hole?” He looked at her, and his eyebrow rose. “There are better ways to use flame, you know.”

  “I don’t care.” What was he up to?

  Gramling tried to take her hand, and she moved away. He looked slightly hurt, but then shrugged and turned away. “Follow me. We’re going somewhere I discovered when… well, a long time ago. Don’t want someone coming along to find us, do we?”

  Elia snorted. “I melted the gate, Gramling. Any fool coming along can see that something’s wrong.”

  The Pit Strider shrugged, smiling again. He put out a hand, and the melted metal almost jumped back into place, flowing in a backwards motion that reversed everything she’d done to it.

  “H… how?” she asked. It was one thing she had never been able to comprehend: his impeccable control of something that was of no element at all.

  Or was it?

  “Not Pit Striding,” he said. “Stone Striding. Earth-elements. Metal has them, same as rock. Or sand. It’s just hard… blasted hard.”

  Then he walked off into the dark cold, leaving her gaping after him.

  “I hate you,” she said under her breath. It was probably the hundredth time she’d said it… but she followed him anyway.

  ~

  Gramling led her to the one place he knew that was safe from the eyes of both the Golden One and the Lordytes. He led her through the cold gusts, across the dark sands, to where a crack opened up in the earth, and a small cavern walled with precious gems was hidden in the recesses of the rock. He led her to the place he had found and taken refuge in as a child, in times when he had been too terrified or too angry to go on with life. He had discovered it, and when it was apparent that the Golden One could not find him there… it had become his secret. His one secret. His one comfort. His one fallback.

  And now he had led her there.

  ~

  Elia held back the urge to squirm. There was barely enough room for two people to sit in this hole, no matter how beautiful it looked.

  “Why here?” she murmured aloud. Gramling leaned back on a gem-encrusted rock, seeming perfectly at ease.

  “It’s undetectable. I realized in the past that the Golden One could not see me here, though he seems to be able to see everywhere else in his mind.”

  “Oh.” She was not sure why, but she believed him. The gems gave off their own light, and an aura of peace that made it hard for her to condone the violence she had done little more than an hour before. It still bothered her, still ate at her mind.

  “Did you know,” Gramling began casually, “that it is possible to shape the elements with your mind? Without using the usual Striding gestures?”

  Elia nodded slowly… it was one of the few advantages she’d thought to have against him. Blast.

  “Good,” he said. “You’re not a dim one, by any means… heh. But think about it. If we can shape stone, or water, or wood, or even fire with our minds… why stop at making shapes like this?” Flames blossomed in his hands, writhing and dancing in an almost-perfect sphere.

  Elia just looked at him. He shrugged. “Oh, you’re not going to make this easy, are you? Look… suppose I want to form something more complex. With my mind… I can imagine anything.”

  The sphere warped, twisted, and resolved in the shape of a tiny pillar, shooting up almost a foot from the middle of Gramling’s palm. He looked at her, smiled, and flicked his wrist. The pillar of flame collapsed, morphing into…

  …A bat. A small bat made out of fire. She’d heard of this from Gribly, but to actually see it made her cringe.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Gramling interrupted her thoughts with what he probably thought was a soothing tone. “It’s just fire, re-shaped. No sorcery. Just Striding, as it was meant to be. Soon, everyone will be able to do it. You see… it’s not just us that have grown more powerful. Me, you, Gribly… The whole world is getting brighter. Stronger. You’ve probably noticed the old boundaries falling apart… Sand Striders becoming Stone Striders, Wave Striders like you becoming Sea Striders.”

  “So what if I have?”

  “Don’t you see?” He seemed exasperated now. “The elements are blending together! It wasn’t long ago Pit Striding and… Spirit Striding… were almost impossible to learn. Now almost anyone can become a Doomcleric, if they try hard enough. And you… you’ve learned to combine your natural element with the supernatural elements.”

  Elia paled suddenly. When put that way, it sounded almost impossible. She hadn’t had time to think about how her powers were changing… but now…

  “Elia.” Gramling’s voice was soft. “Only three people can do what you can. Yourself… Gribly… and me. He probably doesn’t know what he’s doing. He still thinks of himself as ‘the Prophet,’ doesn’t he? Oh yes, I can see it in your eyes. But the thing about Pit Striding… is that it’s just the same as Spirit Striding. Only… swearing to the Aura, or the Golden One. That’s the difference.”

  “But… why are you telling me this?” She narrowed her eyes, edging away from him. They seemed to have drawn closer during his talk.

  He leaned closer… or tried to. “Because… you’ve walked both paths now. You. You’re the most powerful Strider, Elia. YOU will tip the scales. The game is on. The Golden Nation has Sh… has Sheolus, the Golden One. And Automo, the Red Aura.” Elia gasped, actually pressing her hand to her heart in disbelief. It could not be! “But those in Vast… they have Traveller, the Gray Aura. And Wanderwillow, the Brown.”

  “No…” she moaned, but he wasn’t finished.

  “The Golden Nation has me. The remnants of Vast have Gribly. Still equal, see?” She was beginning to… and she didn’t like what she was seeing. “But no one has you, Elia. Not yet.”

  There was a pause as he let the words sink in. Elia’s mind whirled. Two Aura, against two who had betrayed the Aura… according to the Old Beliefs, that made them Legion. Archdemons. One twin, a prophet of the Light. One twin, a servant of the Dark. And stuck in between… her. Could she really be the one to tip the scales? Was that why the Golden One was so intent on converting her?

  The glowing of the jewels in every surface of the cave seemed to pulse, like an enormous heart of colored glass. And they, sitting inside it, were the ones who made it live.

  “Why?” she whispered. Gramling was moving close to her again, but she didn’t care. “Why? You still haven’t told m
e why.”

  “Why what?” he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. It hurt. She wanted to believe in him, wanted to trust…

  “Why tell me this? Why break me, then give me hope?”

  He sighed, a sound that seemed so full of suffering that she almost embraced him, as she would have done if it had been Gribly.

  “I will answer that, Elia… but only if you first answer me this: Why do you hope?”

  She looked at him in shock as he grabbed her by both shoulders, his eyes suddenly blazing with… something. Fear? Anger? Desperation? She was so rattled it took several moments of meeting his gaze before she finally looked down, biting her lip in concentration.

  Why do I hope?

  The answer came, finally, and with it a calmness that no amount of abuse and hate could wound.

  “What do we have, if not hope?” she whispered, looking back into his eyes. “What do we have, if not belief?” His eyes searched hers, trying to solve the riddle of her questions. She took his hands from her shoulders, gently, and continued. “Your world, Gramling, is a world without love. My world… the world of the Aura… the world where families can grow in peace, whole and loving… that is what gives me my hope. If there can be a world like that, it’s worth anything I can give… everything I can give, to keep it.”

  His eyes were glistening, and his face held a yearning that she thought was more than just for her… it was for what she’d said. Impossible. But it had to be.

  “And… your belief?” his voice croaked with emotion, and she felt herself affected similarly, simply by watching him react.

  “My belief…” she smiled, almost ruefully. “That comes from somewhere else. Somewhere… higher.”

  Gramling stood up, slowly, bending slightly to keep from hitting his head on the cave ceiling. What came next was so unexpected, she had no strength to resist. He pulled her up in his embrace, wrapping his arms around her so tightly it hurt. Her toes lifted off the floor as he pressed his cheek to hers, stroking her hair. Her whole body tingled, throbbing. Waves of conflicting emotion assaulted her. She was happy, she was angry, she hated him, she loved him, she wanted to pull away, she couldn’t make herself…

  But he let her go, placing her gently back down on the cave floor. The gems sparkled, mirroring his eyes.

  “Gramling… I…” she felt tears building in her eyes. Her heart pounded, and she feared speaking. She would tell him she never wanted to see him again… or she would ask him to be her lover. What frightened her most was… she did not know which she wanted more.

  But he took the decision away from her.

  “When I brought you here, I had a different purpose in mind,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “But you showed me what I could never see, and explained what I could never accept. I wanted to. I know I did. But my life… it hasn’t been easy. It… Oh, Aura… Elia. I…” She trembled involuntarily, waiting for him to finish. “I… can’t take this from you. What I wanted. You’ve given me all I need, already.” What?

  “What… what do you mean?” she asked, barely daring to guess.

  “You’ve given me hope,” he said, smiling, and stepped away. He stepped away. “At first,” he continued, “I fought because of fear. I feared my Master. Then, when I discovered my brother… I fought for hate. I hated him. Still do. But watching you… I’ve lost that. Now… I fight for hope.”

  “Hope?”

  “I haven’t felt it, Elia… ever. Until now. You’re not for me. But you’ve given me hope… and that’s enough.”

  She took his hands, trying to still the shaking in her own. The heat of the moment was gone. Now she felt only pity, for the boy who had lived his whole life under the sway of shadow and blood. She had so many things she wanted to say… but she kept silent, listening to Gramling in increasing awe.

  ~

  He told her everything… or almost everything. He told her of the rebellion he’d orchestrated, and of the test she and the other Acolytes would be undergoing. He told her that he planned to stop the Golden One with the Midnight Dagger, and he told her that they would have dozens of expert Pit Striders to aid them.

  “Together,” he told her, “We’ll have a chance to end this. And if we fail, we’ll at least have hurt him bad enough… maybe the others across the sea can finish it.”

  He told her everything, and she believed it all. What he didn’t say, what he had told no one… was that the Dagger would not be enough. Nothing would. Sheolus was too powerful.

  He was going to betray them. And they would fall.

  But not me. Not Elia.

  Gramling would betray them all. But he had not lied, telling Elia that he now hoped. He did hope. She would hate him for it, but his plans would not go astray.

  The rebellion would fail. But he would never serve the Golden One again.

  And neither would she.

  Chapter Nine: Darkening

  Elia did not sleep much that night, and the following day Gramling took her to an empty war-room and worked her ceaselessly towards mastering flame. Except for a short rest and tasteless meal in the middle of the day, he was constantly teaching her a new use for fire, or a new form to shape it in.

  She learned how better to combine Fire with Sea; no mean feat, considering that the two elements were practically opposites. She learned methods of blurring light and shadow, methods that did not give her the sense of wrongness most did. Gramling explained that they were more or less “gray” techniques, used by both Pit and Spirit.

  When the day was finally done, she felt too exhausted to go on. In response to her worries- how could she face the Golden One in this state?- Gramling simply Pit Healed her, a process that hurt almost as much as it helped. She stopped complaining, especially when he allowed her to make use of special facilities in the Sepulcher to wash, bathe, and dress in a new set of Acolyte clothing.

  Then night came, and he escorted her all the way to her chamber. The other Acolytes had gone to sleep long before, in anticipation of the coming tests the next day. At her door, he stopped her.

  “Listen,” he said, brushing a hand through his sandy hair nervously. “Anything can happen tomorrow. I can’t… prepare you for everything. This is all in a rush. The Golden One’s off balance, and rushing the Institution is only going to hurt him in the long run. But in the short, we… you are vulnerable. Don’t do anything against the Golden One until I’ve stabbed him with the Dagger. You’ll be the most exhausted, if you even make it out alive. So just… I mean…” he seemed too unsettled. She smiled, motioning him quiet.

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Careful. Yes… that’s it. Be careful, Elia. Please.”

  Then he was gone. She smiled after him, trying to feel confident, despite the storm of icy fear inside her. When he had vanished completely in the shadows of the hall, she entered her room and prepared for bed.

  This time, she was too exhausted from the day’s efforts. Sleep came immediately.

  ~

  Elia was woken from dreamless slumber by a horrible pressing sensation that seemed to suffocate her entire body at once. She jolted awake immediately trying in vain to move from her bed. Then something in the room caught her eye.

  Three tall, black-wrapped Kinn stood near her bed, arms at their sides. Gaping, pointed hoods obscuring their faces. In the shadows, their enveloping robes gave the illusion that they had no arms, only ridiculously long torsos and empty heads. The heavy black cloth was held in place on their left shoulders by gold brooches that shimmered in the darkness. A circle with spikes, and a star in the center.

  Morgens. The most experienced Pit Striders the Golden Nation could offer. Gramling had told her of them. It was time for the test. But now? Before morning had even dawned? He hadn’t spoken of that… perhaps he hadn’t known. She lay awake, staring at them. The pressure had not moved, but she knew better than to struggle now.

  At her wide-eyed acceptance, the centermost Morgen nodded, barely perceptible in the dark. The gold brooches
glittered as one, and suddenly her invisible bonds were lifted. She knew what to do, from Gramling’s instruction: she clung to the rituals she would have to perform, desperate to keep her focus away from the coming conflict. Today meant life or death… but she would not face that until it came. As steadily as she could, she pushed the blanket aside and sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the side.

  The left Morgen stepped forward, robes undulating as it raised its arms, a pile of folded clothes in its grip. She took it, nodding her obedience. This was what she would wear during the testing. Placing it on the blanket beside her, she gazed at the right Morgen. It nodded, and as the left Morgen stepped back, it came forward. With a slight flourish, it handed her a straight black knife, sheathed, dangling from a thin black strap. Her only weapon.