The Shoreless Sea

by J. Scott Coatsworth

Still, together they smiled.

  It was good to know they weren’t all alone.

  Part Two: Inthworld—2212 AD

  Chapter One: Stained

  AINE CAST a melancholy glance backward at the place that had given her birth.

  The solar system was receding at an ever-quickening pace as Forever threaded its way across the stark divide between stars, intent on a destination so far from Earth that the distance was almost incomprehensible, even to someone like her.

  Somewhere back there, life went on. Someone had survived, and the Earth itself would surely rebound, given enough time. It always had.

  After their merger, the individual world mind versions of Andy and Shandra had ceased to exist. There was no need for them anymore, once they were no longer striving so hard to maintain their own identities separate and apart from each other.

  Their coming together had created something new—the butterfly emergence of a different consciousness. No longer was the world mind a she or a he or a they or them, though she still thought of herself with the feminine pronoun.

  Old habits died hard.

  Instead, Aine occupied all these states—one, many, all—and all her genders and ideas simultaneously, and owned none of them.

  She had chosen her new identity from Irish legend—Andy’s heritage—a goddess of love and summertime.

  Aine the goddess had been fierce, independent, and redheaded. She’d bitten off the ear of the king who assaulted her, in the process taking away his kingdom.

  Aine the immortal loved that story.

  She existed for three purposes—to protect those in her charge, to grow the world, and to see them all safely to a new home. Perhaps she would survive long enough to see that task through. Perhaps others would take her place instead.

  Sometimes her old human emotions surfaced like brightly colored fish leaping out of the still waters.

  Her enormous body breathed, sending light and water and air to its inhabitants. Aine was everywhere at the same time, even when her consciousness was laser-focused on a single point.

  Forever was calm, tranquil. Her human cargo had become prosperous, and major conflict was rare.

  And yet….

  Inside her vast domain was a seed. A cancer. A remnant of the mind before hers. The inthworld.

  She had taken five long years to find it. The nodule that contained the virtual world had been well hidden. Perhaps the work of Davian the Betrayer, before he’d been purged from the world by Jayson, Andy, and the others.

  Now that it was found, it would have been easy enough for her to destroy it. Indeed, it seemed to be decaying all on its own. A few more months and it might resolve itself.

  Aine had stayed her hand.

  As long as it existed in its current form, that seed represented a clear and present danger to the humans under Aine’s care. And yet, were its denizens—she’d taken to calling them ints—human, too, in their own strange way, and thereby also her charges?

  If the ints aren’t sentient beings in their own right, then what am I?

  It was a question that had haunted her ever since her progenitors, Andy and Shandra, had copied their consciousnesses into the seed that had become her current self: Am I real?

  It was a philosophical question more than anything. Of course she was real in the objective sense. She existed. She exerted influence on the world.

  But she wasn’t of that world.

  Aine sighed, and a warm breeze spread out along the spindle to bring rain to the highlands outside of Thyre.

  She needed to send someone into the inthworld to find out if it was still a threat. To neutralize it if needed, and to save its inhabitants, if that was even possible.

  The sooner, the better.

  DESTINY SLEET lay on ser back, staring at the sky. It was late afternoon, and a warm breeze was blowing through the glowing grasses of the highlands, bringing with it the wet smell of the sea.

  Ser gloves lay on the ground beside ser, discarded for a few precious moments of solitary quiet. The world sparkled around them, alive, connected, each piece of it singing to ser like a voice in a chorus.

  They were at peace for once. The whisper of the wind seemed intended for ser ears alone, carrying secrets from some far-off land. It rose and fell in time with the breathing of the mother world, and Destiny could feel the connections in everything around ser, one to another.

  Destiny imagined serself as a warrior king, sailing across the sea to fight the giants in a quest for….

  Something.

  Se’d never quite figured out what the quest would be about. But it would be epic.

  Maybe that was the point—it was the journey that mattered.

  “Destiny! Can you come help us set up for dinner?” Uncle Santi stood on the porch, waving at ser. He was handsome still, his once black hair gone silver at his temples. He and his husband, Eddy, had welcomed them to the farm almost a year earlier, when they had run away from home.

  Uncle Eddy had understood.

  Poor Eddy. He was so old. Destiny had helped Uncle Santi get him out of bed that morning and had given him a sponge bath. It must be hard to get old.

  “Coming!” Se got up and brushed ser pants and shirt off and grabbed ser gloves.

  The feeling of connectedness slipped away.

  Destiny was happy to be here, a place where se was accepted for who se was. Se wore pants and shirts, sometimes braiding ser long black hair and sometimes letting it fly wild and free.

  “Wipe your feet!” Eddy’s voice floated out to the porch from somewhere inside the house. “And wash your hands. We have company.”

  Destiny frowned. The Halfway House rarely had visitors, in the sparsely populated country north of Thyre—still a small town, the northernmost outpost of humanity in the world.

  Se lifted the valve, and clean water trickled out from the catch basin into ser waiting hands, washing the light dust off ser umber skin. A little reed soap and ser hands were clean. The rest of ser, not so much.

  Destiny sighed. If se had known company was coming, se would have done a proper washing before dinner.

  Se dried them on ser pants and pulled ser gloves back on. Se wiped ser bare feet off on the edge of the porch and went inside.

  “Destiny, this is Kiryn. He’s a dear friend of ours. And this is his husband, Dax.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Dax held out his hand. “Santi has told us all about you.”

  Destiny nodded. “You too.”

  “Kiryn is deaf, so it’s polite to speak to him slowly and to look at him when you do.” Santi did this as he spoke to Destiny, and Kiryn nodded.

  Kiryn grinned. “Thank you.”

  Destiny stared at him. Se’d never met a deaf person before. “Does it hurt?”

  Uncle Eddy scowled at ser, but Dax waved it off. He signed something to Kiryn, who replied in kind.

  “He says he doesn’t hurt because of it. It’s like being born with brown or blue eyes.”

  Se nodded. “I get that.”

  “Tag!” Santi bellowed down the hall.

  The voice of the last resident of the Halfway House called out from his room, “Coming!” Tagger was always off reading something. He’d come to the house a couple of months earlier and mostly kept to himself, but Destiny tried to pull him into conversation when se could. He’d had as bad a childhood as se had.

  Destiny threw ser arms around him. “About time.”

  He grinned down at ser from under his dark bangs.

  The two of them sat down at the mallowood table to eat.

  Rooney bustled in from the gardens outside. She didn’t even bother to wipe her feet.

  “Santi!” Destiny pointed at Roo.

  Santi rolled his eyes. “I know, Des. Rooney, go back outside and wipe off.”

  “Do I have to?” She could whine with the best of them.

  “Now.” Santi’s look sent Rooney scampering back out the door.

  Destiny nodded. Everyone had to obey the same rules.r />
  Rooney looked much different than when she had first arrived, seven months or so before. She was experimenting, figuring out who she was.

  It made ser happy to see it.

  Destiny didn’t feel like se was part of either gender. Not exactly. Se had ser own gender, and se was happy with that. But it made ser happy to think Rooney had discovered her true self. She’d come here for the same reason Destiny had, when se had run away from home.

  This house was a refuge for people like Destiny, Tagger, and Rooney—a place where someone understood them. Where they would allow them to be who they really were.

  Rooney took her place at the table, head bowed.

  Uncle Santi gestured for them to take their seats. “Good. We’re all here. Rooney, Tag, these are Dax and Kiryn.”

  Rooney held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Tag just nodded.

  Santi cleared his throat. “Tag.”

  “What?” He looked at Santi and then at the visitors. “Oh. Nice to meet you.” He held out his slender hand.

  “You too.” Dax smiled, and Tagger managed a small grin in reply.

  Eddy served them a simple feast he’d prepared—roast chicken from the Danvers’ farm down the lane over a pile of cooked field grains. Eddy was an excellent cook, and Destiny licked ser lips as se eyed the two serving platters.

  “Dig in!”

  Destiny didn’t have to be told twice.

  Se was halfway through ser second helping—they never had to skimp on food here—when Dax cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I ask ser?”

  Santi nodded. “Destiny, Kiryn and Dax came here to see you.”

  Destiny’s ears perked up. “Me?” Someone knew who se was?

  Tagger nudged ser. “See? Told you you were special.”

  Destiny stuck ser tongue out at him.

  “Yes. They told us they need your help. You have a gift.”

  Destiny looked sharply at Santi and Eddy. “You told?”

  Santi shook his head. “No. We would never do that to you. They already knew.”

  “How?” Destiny had only divulged ser secret to ser father and the residents of Halfway House. Ser da had slapped ser hard across the face when se had confessed it, and soon after, se had run away for good.

  Dax smiled disarmingly.

  Destiny’s face grew hot with embarrassment. Se didn’t like others knowing about ser curse.

  “I’m like you. So is Kiryn. We’re Liminals. You know what that is?”

  Se nodded. “My da said Liminals were dangerous.”

  Dax grinned. “Sure, we can be. But we can also do things to help others. Things most people can’t.”

  Destiny nodded. Se’d known se was unique, but the Liminal tag had never quite fit. Like so many other tags that didn’t seem to fit ser. “My parents aren’t Liminals. Why am I?”

  Dax looked at Kiryn, who shrugged. “Maybe one of your parents was. Not everyone has talents that show on the outside.” He looked at Santi, who nodded. “We’d like you to come with us. We’re going somewhere… new. Somewhere that your talents could be quite helpful.”

  Tag nudged ser again. “See? Special.”

  “Maybe.” Destiny’s heart raced. They wanted ser to leave this place? Se was safe here, but out there….

  Se couldn’t. People like ser father were out there, people who didn’t understand people like ser.

  Ser gaze flickered back and forth. “I… I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  Se threw ser napkin on the table and ran out of the house, down the steps, away from the two strangers, leaving a trail of glowing trampled grass across the open field.

  BELYNN STACKED the mugs on her platter, looking around the empty tavern in despair.

  There’d been a raucous party, a birthday for one of the town luminaries, such as they were. The place was a mess. Tables knocked over, stacks of dirty plates, and a pile of something in one corner on the floor that she didn’t care to examine too closely.

  Wenda had sent her son, Dany, to say she was sick and couldn’t come in, so Belynn had had all the fun to herself. She and Wenda had enjoyed a brief fling when Belynn had arrived in Thyre, but it had burned out quickly. Now they were fast friends.

  She sipped the last bit of beer from the bottom of one of the mugs, feeling the pleasant numbness return like an old friend. She lived now from drink to drink, waking up gasping in the middle of the night and searching for her flask. Her job as the barkeep here at the Shattered Moon kept her busy and gave her an excuse to drink on the job. Not a lot. Just a little at a time. One long, steady drunken jag to keep her demons at bay.

  To keep Lilith away.

  The bell on the front door rang as she carried the first load of mugs and plates into the back to deposit them into the washbasin.

  “We’re closing, sorry!” It was past midnight, and she was going to have enough of a chore getting the place back into shape without more customers.

  “Just one drink?”

  Belynn turned to find Gordy popping his head into the kitchen. “Hey there!” She set the tray on the wooden counter, wiped her hands on her apron, and ran to embrace him. “What are you doing here?”

  His hair was longer, pulled back into a tail, and his face had a few lines that hadn’t been there the last time she’d seen him. But he was still Gordy.

  He grinned. “I heard the best-looking waitress in Thyre worked here.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s sick today. You’re stuck with me.” She looked up at him. He was different, but still Gordy—still the same raffish hair, and those brown eyes…. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You have a mess out there. Mind if I help?”

  “That would be great. We had a big party in here—”

  “Of cattle?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” She handed him a platter. “Here, start gathering dishes. I’ll get to work cleaning them.” She opened the valve to fill the sink and started putting food scraps in the bin for a trip to the dissolution pit. If Wenda had been here, she would have taken them home for her cats.

  “What are you doing in Thyre?” She was happy to see him, but the last time they’d been in the same room was when they’d broken up, after a whirlwind relationship that had lasted almost six months. “Weren’t you settled in Micavery?”

  She hadn’t been in much of a place for a relationship back then, tainted as she was by what Lilith and the acolytes had done to her. Truth be told, she wasn’t in much better shape now, five years later. She’d just learned to live with it and had taken up her old self-medication habit to cope with the stain.

  Gordy returned with a stack of dishes and unloaded them on the mallowood counter. “I did. I got a job there—at the Knife’s Edge.” He showed off the scabbard hanging from his waist. “They have me making knives. Turns out I’m quite good at it.”

  She nodded. “You’d be good at just about anything you put your mind to, I think.” Belynn rolled up her sleeves and grabbed a cloth and some reed soap. She sudsed up the cloth and started cleaning the dishes, stacking them for rinsing and drying. “I appreciate the help. Wenda was sick tonight….” Her hand was shaking. It was one of the signs.

  She set down the cloth and picked up a half-full mug of beer and downed it.

  “Still doing that, I see.” Gordy set down the tray, unloading the dishes and carefully avoiding her gaze.

  “Yeah. Still doing it.” She went back to washing, her face hot. “It… it helps. With the stain.”

  He was quiet for a moment. The only sounds were the clank of plates and the splash of the cloth in the water. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? You didn’t do anything.” On the contrary. He’d done everything he could to help her. She just hadn’t been ready to accept it.

  “Are you happy?”

  She stopped, her hands holding tightly onto the ceramic plate. She squeezed her eyes shut. How dare you ask me that? How the hell could I be happy af
ter that? She took a deep breath and forced herself to open her eyes. She finished cleaning the plate and set it down with the others before answering. “I get by.”

  He put an arm on her shoulder. “Oh, Belynn. I’m so sorry—”

  She pulled away from him like his touch burned. “Are there more dishes?”

  His hand withdrew, and she heard him leave the kitchen.

  I scared him off. She sighed again and went back to cleaning the plates and mugs. Just as well. She had her life down to a workable schedule now. She didn’t need any additional variables or unexpected interruptions.

  The door swung open and Gordy deposited more dishes. He didn’t say another word.

  He stayed. She took comfort from that fact.

  They worked in silence, and after about an hour all the dishes were cleaned and rinsed and put away, and the common room—even the disgusting corner where someone had lost their dinner—had been put back into order.

  She served herself a beer from the barrel—one of the perks of being the manager—and offered him one too.

  “No thanks.” His first words since she’d all but bitten his head off. “I’ll take some water, though.”

  They sat down together. She was tired but satisfied with her work. There was something cathartic about putting things in order, about organizing things on the outside even if she was a mess on the inside.

  “So why are you here?” she asked at last. Few came to Thyre by chance. It was the edge of the world, more or less, a rough-and-tumble town obsessed with building a wall around Forever. Someday it might be a great city. For now, it was the place you went when you didn’t fit in anywhere else.

  Still, she liked its spirit. When that spirit didn’t throw up on her clean floor.

  He sat back, staring at her, and took a sip of his water. “You’re still hurting.”

  She nodded. “Some days are worse than others.”

  “The voices?”

  She shook her head. “The alcohol keeps them away. It’s the stain. The memory of the stench in my brain that won’t go away.” She shuddered and took another sip of alcohol. The key was control. Just a little. A sip here and there to keep herself in the safe zone.