The Redemption of Wist Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3: The complete collection

by David Gilchrist

  Wist began to apologise again, but Nikka interjected, ‘That is passed us now, let us move on. We must break camp soon to reach our destination in time. You can ride until we get there.’ Then Wist thought about shouting to Dregan, to find out what awaited them at the lakeside, but his shame wouldn’t allow him. Should he tell the Mage about what he had seen or was it a side effect of the heat? Even thinking of Eliscius’ suffering brought back some of the nausea that he’d suppressed. Wist’s head had started to pound. Riding a horse through a dimly lit jungle with a searing headache didn’t appeal to him, but he wasn’t about to complain. He’d cost them enough time.

  Something bothered him about the final vision he had seen. Why had he offered himself a bowl to drink from? Perhaps it was the thirst from his heat-exhaustion? Could he be sure it was himself he’d seen? If it was himself, whose eyes had he been looking through?

  They broke camp after he finished his conversation with Nikka, when Faric - who had been absent the entire time - reappeared to tell Dregan that the way to the lake was clear. Then he strode off into the jungle once more. This time Nikka walked alongside Wist as he rode. Conversing lightly and talking to himself, the Cerni kept Wist’s mind from dwelling on what had happened.

  The droplets of sunlight that had marked their way, now climbed into the canopy of the trees. With Nikka to lead his horse, Wist’s poor night vision was not a hindrance. Tyla and Aviti walked some distance ahead of them, and Wist would catch a few words drifting on the wind, but it was always Aviti’s voice he would hear. Maybe her voice just caught the air and carried further. He didn’t believe that though. Faric might show his pain in a more obvious form, but Tyla suffered as badly. He hadn’t managed to talk to him since his – severing. God knows what he’d say anyway. He had more than enough of his own problems to get out of.

  Nikka started to hum once more. There was a somnolent quality to his deep baritone voice, sleek and sumptuous. In the partial light, Wist could have sworn that there was more than one voice intertwined in his tune. The pace of his melody matched the stride of the horse. Even the continual brush and scrape of the jungle found its place within his tune, providing a rhythmical counter-point to the footfalls of the horses, and Wist found himself humming along to this unknown song, slightly out of time and not quite in key. He caught a flash of Nikka’s grin as he heard his attempt to join in. He might have suspected anyone else of mocking him for his attempt. As usual, Wist was a semi-tone out and two beats off.

  The melody faded as they caught up to the rest of the party. They had stopped at the edge of the jungle, where the thick undergrowth broke to reveal its hidden gem. Like a pearl inside the rough shell of an oyster, the calm surface of the Lake Kar-Iktar glistened with the final rays of the reflected sunlight. They had reached their destination. The lake was bordered by a rough stone-strewn beach about two-score strides wide. The far side of the lake was bathed in shadow and hidden from him and, if it hadn’t been for the lack of salt in the air, he could be looking out to the open sea.

  ‘What now?’ Wist asked the evening air.

  ‘We wait for the moon to rise,’ replied Dregan tersely. Then he walked away, down to the edge of the water.

  19 - Transform

  The campfire launched sparks deep into the night as it burned in the centre of the camp, which sprawled between the edge of the lake and the dark line of the trees. The warmth from the fire helped the party ward off the cold of the darkening night and, despite the size of the blaze, it led Wist to thoughts of N’tini’s pyre. He looked to Aviti for any sign that she was thinking of her family, but she busied herself around the camp, finding small tasks with which to occupy herself.

  Wist settled himself beside Nikka, who was chewing his way through some of their rations. Dregan sat on his own with his back to the fire, staring out into the calm waters of Kar-Iktar. At first, Wist had difficulty locating Faric. After a moment, he saw him pacing up the shoreline. Like a caged animal, he marked out the edge of the water, eyes alternating between probing the darkness of the trees and the depths of the lake. How did he hope to see anything beyond the campfire light? As he moved further up the lakeside, he lost sight of Faric once more.

  The sun had set an hour or so ago and the moon had not risen yet, but Wist could make out a few stars dimly shimmering against the black sky. What would happen when the moon came out? What was Dregan hoping he’d find here, and how could it get them to Eliscius? They were still weeks away from Bohba. What would they find when they got there?

  The cruel torture of Eliscius flashed into his mind.

  ‘Nikka,’ said Wist. Nikka looked up from his meal, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘When I passed out – rather before I did – in the jungle, I mean,’ Wist paused to gather his thoughts. ‘I saw Eliscius again,’ he continued, swallowing a draft from the cup that Nikka had been using. Nikka waited silently for Wist to continue.

  ‘He’d been tortured; beaten and cut: brutally sliced and bled. I’ve never seen anything so cruel. It was as if he was being mocked for his longevity.’

  ‘Tilden?’

  Wist nodded. ‘I don’t know why he let me see this. Maybe he’s trying to goad me. Anger me. God knows. Maybe I just dreamed it.’

  ‘Did you see where he was?’ asked Nikka.

  Wist shrugged. ‘It was a cold, stone building of some sort; dark – barely lit. All I could see was his face and arms. His arms were shredded.’ A shudder coursed through him as he thought of it.

  ‘Stone?’ said Nikka, his interest piqued. ‘What colour of stone?’

  ‘I don’t know; grey - dark grey, lifeless stone. Does it matter?’ Nikka’s unusual questions angered him.

  ‘Perhaps,’ replied Nikka, ‘and perhaps not. If we are to find Eliscius then it will help to learn anything we can about where he is being held.’

  ‘I don’t even know if it was real,’ Wist said.

  ‘It seems too much of a coincidence to be an imagining,’ mused Nikka.

  ‘That wasn’t all,’ confided Wist. ‘The rest of it didn’t make much sense. I was in a big room with a table, a table with lots of chairs around it.’

  ‘The same room as before?’ asked Nikka.

  ‘Don’t think so,’ Wist said, ‘it felt bigger. Anyway, there was a man seated at the far side of the table. He offered me a bowl, or a cup.’

  ‘Did you see the man?’

  ‘I – I caught a small glimpse,’ Wist said.

  ‘Tilden?’

  ‘I – I don’t think so,’ he continued. ‘I think it was me.’

  ‘You offered yourself a drink?’

  ‘No,’ snapped Wist. ‘Maybe…I don’t know. I’m not sure if it was me looking or I was seeing things through someone else’s eyes.’ Wist exhaled. He cursed himself for having started this conversation. It wasn’t Nikka’s fault; he was only asking the questions he should have asked himself. Anger rose from his ignorance, or perhaps from his impotence. Wist shrugged off Nikka’s attempts to question him. He had to think. He needed to tell Dregan what he’d seen, but he’d just use this as another stick with which to beat him.

  As he mulled things over, Wist looked down to the lake, where the water graced the land. It lay there immobile, mirroring the evening sky. Staring into the depths of the sky, he watched enraptured as the stars slowly revealed themselves, appearing reluctantly to glisten on the surface of Kar-Iktar. Wist shivered as he looked away from the inversion on the lake to take in the twisted bowl in which the body of water sat. The lines of trees along the near side of the lake stood proudly straight, as if they had been tasked with holding back the chaos and disorder of the jungle. No wild scrub brushes or untamed vines penetrated their lines of defence. The Kar-Iktar’s ceremonial guard kept the beach clear of the detritus of life.

  Wist’s mind cleared as he gazed along the undulating lines of trees and water. Marking out the width of the rough pebble-strewn beach, the water and woods advanced and retreated from each other in a graceful dance, as
they faded into the darkness of night. He looked to the sky once more, in an effort to find the moon, but it hadn’t risen yet. He watched his breath condense in front of him, and then pulled his legs into his chest in an effort to stay warm. This was the first time that he’d felt relaxed since working on N’tini’s farm. The heavy workload had helped him, but even then, the thought of the nightmares that would return to him when he slept, prevented him from finding peace. Perhaps he could stay here and let everything else fade away?

  He pulled the travelling cloak Nikka had given him from his pack and pulled it tight around himself. The effects of Dregan’s medicine were wearing off; the dizziness was returning. Wist forced himself to look back to the sky, where the moon had drifted over the rim of the bowl, behind the trees through which they had arrived. He looked expectantly to Dregan, waiting for him to show a sign, to move, to find what he was seeking.

  Dregan sat motionless, remaining where he had been since they had set up camp: looking out to the lake. Was he mediating? Wist wondered whether any doubts ever crept into the Mage’s mind. Did Dregan regret accepting Eliscius’ patronage? Probably not. The Mage was pompous, but his devotion to Eliscius was unquestionable. He would like to see some signs that Dregan was fallible though.

  A shiver tracked along Wist’s skin, passing from his fingertips to his back. Could his heat exhaustion be returning?

  But it wasn’t dehydration causing him to shiver. As the moon’s silver image slipped on to Kar-Iktar, ice spread from its glistening corona, forming a dais upon the lake, a stone’s throw from where he sat. The ice thickened at the point where the moon’s light had first touched the surface of the lake, forming a circular platform.

  The dais ceased its growth and the ice spread out to connect the platform to the beach. The ice ran scarred and venous between the two, like a desecration of the perfect lake, it sat in ignominy upon its surface. The ice cracked and groaned as it formed, crying out from the pain of its creation.

  A figure stepped out from the darkness on to the raised disc. The moon’s spotlight reflected from the thousand facets of his skin, forcing the party to avert their eyes from him. Wist watched through the gaps in his fingers as the figure walked from the dais, and on to the water’s frozen surface. The light dimmed as the glistening figure passed from the moon’s direct light, allowing them all to look at him for the first time.

  Wist tried to examine the man, if that’s what he was, but found that his gaze would not settle on him. It was as if his features were blurred - passed through a filter or an opaque piece of glass. Wist could make out all that he’d expect to see; a nose, a mouth, two eyes and ears, but nothing definite about them. The man appeared to be made from pieces of ice, or slivers of diamond. They knitted together to form the surface of his body. It appeared flawless one moment, only to shatter the next, reconnecting a heartbeat later to complete the cycle. Steam vented from his back, shooting into the frigid night. The sound of the rushing steam brought Wist from his stasis.

  Dregan sat impassively on the beach. What was he waiting for?

  Hold, said a voice in his head.

  I am Enceladus, the voice continued. I am aware of why you have sought me. I shall take each one of you in turn. Wait here until it is your time. You have nothing to fear. No harm shall befall you tonight.

  Wist exhaled and sent a plume of steam into the night. Whom would he call upon first? How did they know they could trust this Enceladus? His sudden appearance, although startling, hadn’t shattered Wist’s current serenity. Enceladus’ presence here felt paradoxically natural.

  Gliding forward with graceful steps, Enceladus extended an arm towards Nikka, who rose immediately to accept his summons. Together they walked upon the frozen peninsula to the dais, where they stopped with their backs to the party.

  Enceladus passed his hands over the frozen water in front of them. The ice before them changed from its fractured, opaque state, to an obsidian black - though nothing reflected in its surface. The lake in front of Nikka had been detached from reality, an abyss opening before his feet. Enceladus gestured to Nikka, indicating something to him. Wist began to shout to Nikka, fearing that he meant to throw himself into the void, but he realised his mistake as Nikka lowered his head to look into the darkness.

  If words were spoken between the two figures on the lake, Wist heard none of them. The lake was silent as the party looked on; the only sound was the rasp of their exhalations as the night stole their warmth.

  The sentinel stood motionless beside Wist’s friend. Only a single feature on Enceladus reflected no light: three dark stripes and the insinuation of fourth ran from left side of the head, where his skull met his neck, down to his right hip - tracing smooth arcs along the contours of his back. Wist blinked as they erupted, shooting a blast of steam into the air. What did Dregan hope to achieve here and what would he promise to get it?

  As the cloud of steam dispersed into the air, Enceladus dropped his arms to his sides. The chasm in the lake frosted over once more, and Nikka’s connection with whatever he gazed upon was broken. Without a signal from Enceladus, he turned and walked back on the ice flow and up to the beach, followed a few paces behind him by the gleaming spectre.

  Enceladus stopped at Tyla’s feet and beckoned for him to rise; Nikka continued to walk, oblivious to Enceladus’ movements. Nikka strode on past Wist, stopping to sit in the lee of some trees at the edge of the beach. Wist could see tears glistening on Nikka’s cheeks, like the facets of Enceladus’ body. What had he seen? Wist wanted to go and comfort his friend, but instinctively he knew he should remain seated. If this encounter was as important as Dregan had implied, then he couldn’t risk breaking its unspoken rules.

  Wist watched transfixed as Tyla joined Enceladus upon the disc and the ice before them turned black once more. Tyla stood as Nikka had, gazing into the pool, captured by a vision that was for him alone to behold. Wist looked on as Tyla’s body tensed, the Lyrat’s hands moving from their inert positions at his side, as if they sought the familiar release of violence. Would he strike out at Enceladus? Would he attack the emptiness that lay before him?

  But the crisis passed as quickly as it had arrived. Tyla’s body relaxed and his head tilted forward as if in acknowledgement of the trial and then Enceladus dropped his arms and the chasm covered itself once more.

  Tyla stepped from Kar-Iktar on to the shore with more surety than Nikka had, but he met no-one’s eyes. He returned to his seat at Aviti’s side, his posture still suggesting uncertainty, but there was no pain on his face. He had not suffered the anguish that Nikka had endured, or if he had, it was buried deeper.

  Wist looked back to Enceladus to see whom he had chosen next, fearing that his time had come. Instead, Enceladus faced out to the east, along the shoreline. Faric. It seemed natural that he should turn to Tyla’s Lyrat pair now, but where was he? Enceladus waited patiently at the edge of the beach, arms outstretched, as if awaiting the return of an errant son.

  Moments passed without any sign of him. Wist saw Dregan’s jaw clench, in anger or fear. What would happen if Faric refused this summons? Could he refuse it?

  Then, Faric slipped from the shadows to stand at the edge of the glacial lake; rage and denial scarred his handsome features. Where Tyla had accepted his responsibility for the good of the group, Faric sought to reject it for his own preservation. The severance from Tyla had proved too much for him to bear, compounding his pain at the loss of his people.

  The Lyrat stared at Enceladus, denying the spectre’s call.

  Wist looked to Dregan, hoping that he would intervene, but he seemed trapped by his own indecision; unwilling to force Faric in case it violated a part of this silent ritual. Tyla too would not intervene, he sat with his head bowed, trapped in his own world. Panic, all too familiar to him, swelled once more: this impasse would not last - Wist could see signs of tension creasing Faric’s face. The violence that Tyla had subdued would overcome and devour his Pair; he could not hope to stand agai
nst his own passions. Faric’s hand slipped to his Katana. Steadily, he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and then he moved to attack.

  ‘No!’ called Wist. Faric stopped before he had taken a full stride.

  Faric turned to look at Wist. The silence was absolute. Like a slice cut in time, they held each other’s gaze.

  ‘Please Faric, go with him,’ Wist requested. For once Wist didn’t care about the consequences for himself. ‘It may – it may help you.’

  Faric stood unmoved by the plea, his hand still gripping the handle of his sword; anger and loss gripped his soul. Yet, he remained motionless.

  Yes, Wist thought, fight it Faric – fight it.

  Gradually, the Lyrat’s hand relaxed on the sword. He completed the step he had begun to take, but threat of violence had passed. By degrees, the anger dispersed and Faric was left alone with his pain to walk beside Enceladus.

  The spectre repeated his ritual once more, taking Faric into his solitude, and Wist breathed again. Had he been right to stop Faric? He had to intervene, but what right did he have to remove Faric’s free will? He hadn’t forced him to comply, but perhaps he had unwittingly shamed him. Wist watched as Faric stood impassively through Enceladus’ display. Did he bear witness to the same display as Tyla? Would they all be shown the same thing? Was he seeing anything at all?

  Questions assaulted Wist’s mind. He knew turning things over and over was pointless, but he couldn’t stop the barrage. Desperate to distract himself, Wist ran his eyes over the silvery scales of the walking portent. Arms held out to the lake, the silver, monolithic figure cast its tiny reflections upon the beach, coating the party with slashes of moonlight and insinuations of violence. Glimpses of times and places were held in those points of light, intangible and incomplete.

  Finishing his communion with Faric, Enceladus lowered his arms to release Faric from his stasis. The Lyrat turned and walked back to the beach, leaving the same way he had arrived, along the shoreline, giving no sign of what he had witnessed.