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

by David Gilchrist

  ‘Hush now. Do not say it, for there is no need.’

  ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I am your dead,’ laughed the Giant. ‘One of them anyway. Tethered to you in death, more so than ever I was in life.’

  ‘Tethered to me?’

  The Giant laughed again at the question. ‘You carry the chains. Perhaps you could tell me their worth?’

  ‘Their worth?’

  ‘Everything has a value. Everything and everyone, Dionach.’

  ‘Don’t call me that,’ Wist said, but his words lacked the conviction they deserved.

  ‘It is only a name, and what is in a name, Wist?’

  It was his father who had first called him Wist, and after his father’s murder, he had worn the moniker like a suit of armour. Even as a young boy, he had refused to answer to anything else. Only Autumn had called him by his real name – William. William Stewart when she was angry.

  As the first tear began to roll down his cheek, Brathoir smiled and began to disintegrate.

  ‘Forgive me,’ Wist said.

  Brathoir shook his head and said, ‘No,’ as he departed.

  ‘Why not? Why the hell not?’ But there was no one there to answer him. Water rippled and a glimmer of light flew into the distance.

  In an instant or an age, he was back on land. Endless flowing grasslands blossomed beneath him. It stretched out in every direction. Lush, rolling hills in the distance, covered in trees, which displayed their autumnal finery.

  At the top of one of the hills stood a man, surrounded by trees on all sides bar the one from which Wist approached.

  ‘Wist, my boy,’ said the man. His voice was deep and powerful, at odds with his appearance. Wist knew the voice and he knew the man.

  Tears flowed now. They poured down Wist’s face

  Lights danced all around Eliscius, Wist’s mentor and friend. On his first time in Tapasya, Eliscius had saved him, him and Tilden, from the street. He had overseen their training, taken care of their well-being - until Tilden had betrayed him and tried to usurp the leader of Mashesh.

  Then, after his plot failed, Tilden brought an army to the city. Then he tried to murder Wist, blaming Wist for his imprisonment in this world.

  ‘Eliscius,’ Wist managed to say before tears overcame him.

  ‘It is not yet time for sorrow or grief,’ said Eliscius. ‘There is much for you to do yet.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Wist said. The Ghria Duh; the plague of the Damned, Tilden, The Waren; all of these insoluble problems he needed to solve.

  ‘You must reunite the twins,’ said Eliscius.

  ‘But,’ Wist said, ‘but…’

  It was the same thing that N’tini – Aviti’s father – had said. He hadn’t understood it at the time, but it must mean…it must mean…me and Tilden.

  Eliscius said nothing, but continued to smile.

  ‘What about the rest of it? What about the rift in the world? What about the Damned?’

  ‘That is not your task,’ said Eliscius.

  ‘Not mine? What do you mean, not mine?’ No.’ He was shouting now. It was his mess. He would sort it out.

  Eliscius shimmered. Then he smiled and Wist’s anger evaporated.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Wist said once more.

  The motes of light that made up Eliscius began to drift apart.

  ‘No,’ he shouted again, but this time it was a cry of desperate longing. ‘No. No. I need your help. Show me how to do this. I cannot do this alone.’ But it was too late. The lights fled from Wist as if repelled by his black core. Then the ground beneath him began to dissolve and the trees disintegrated. The earth sloughed from the hills that surrounded him, falling away to reveal the nothingness that lurked beneath.

  Soon, all that remained was light – pure and untainted light - and so he drifted in his grief for a while, until even that was assuaged by the light. Then he realised that he was not alone.

  Two people stood alongside him. He knew them without looking. They had been with him all of his life.

  He could feel the enmity and love from them. He yearned to turn and see them, to embrace them. It was all he had wanted for so long, but he knew they would not be there, for how could they be? They had never been here.

  He thought of asking them for forgiveness. He knew he had let them down, but they had also let him down. These two had helped make him who he was, or whom he had failed to become. So, he took a breath to steady his heart, then he said, ‘I forgive you.’

  -*-

  Haumea waited until Wist and Tyla were out of sight before stepping forward. She was the first of the Giants to approach the lights. She had not done so to shame the others, but their arguing had driven her too it.

  As she stepped into the lights, they flared. When she blinked to drive the purple afterimages from her sight, she found herself in a cave. Lights flowed all around this enormous cavern. She stared upwards and saw the thousands of stalactites that decorated the roof, the ends of which were rounded and indefinite. She imagined that this must be what it looked like to look down upon a forest.

  She had had many dreams of flying. In her dreams, she had been unencumbered by her physical limitations. She had passed effortlessly over mountains, fields and oceans as she looked down over it all. But she was rooted on the earth now.

  When Haumea looked at her feet, it was not ground under them. It was a quilt made of leather patches, and there were thousands upon thousands of them. On one side of her, they were large - about three or four square yards. The ones on her other side were smaller and less regular in size and colour. In front of her, the patches were pure white, apart from the grey, black stains that were scattered here and there.

  Water began to bubble beneath her feet, so she retreated. At first, it swelled quickly to her waist, but then it stopped. Then she walked back until she could see the leather beneath her feet once more.

  Then Ionracas appeared, standing in the middle of the newly born lake. ‘Fool,’ he shouted at her and the ground beneath them shook. ‘You killed me. You!’

  Haumea retreated from the Prime Glaine of the Giants. Her Glaine.

  ‘You destroyed the Giants. My people, they are lost.’

  ‘You are a pathetic excuse for a Giant. You should have been slain at birth. Damn your kin for letting you live.’

  Her knees started to bend under the force of the assault. Not just from Ionracas’ words but from the self-doubt that welled up within her. It counselled her to accept these accusations.

  Were they not true? Had she not led the Giants in the disaster at Dilsich?

  ‘No,’ she shouted back. ‘Damn you. Damn you for your cowardice.’

  Ionracas staggered backwards now, splashing water onto himself.

  ‘Damn you for your lack of pity.’

  He fell onto his knees as Haumea locked her legs under her.

  ‘But yes, damn me too,’ she continued. ‘Damn me for holding you in such high regard. Damn me for placing such a low value on myself.’

  Ionracas fell back into the pool. He screamed. It was a silent cry, yet Haumea heard it. And as the water swallowed him, she shed a tear for the fallen leader. Just a solitary tear fell from her cheek, but by the time it hit the ground, the water had gone and so had Ionracas.

  Laughter filled the chamber. Its gentle sound rippled around Haumea, reflecting off the walls and ceiling, until the space was filled with the sonorous peals.

  She recognised the sound and looked around for its source, but she could not see him. Then the source of the laughter stepped from the shadows at the rear of the chamber.

  ‘Nikka,’ she said and smiled. ‘You are...’

  ‘Dead?’ he said, completing her sentence. She protested, but he waved them away. ‘I thought being dead would be more… exciting than this.’

  Haumea stared at him. He smiled and shook his head. ‘Do you still have the staff?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Haumea said. It was there in her hand. It felt more real than a
nything else, as if it was the only thing in this place that was. She thought about banging it on the floor, dispelling this grim illusion, but the thought of losing Nikka was too much. Not yet, she thought, not just yet.

  ‘Are you really here?’ she asked him

  ‘Where else could I possibly be?’ he said with a broad grin. It was as much of an answer as she had expected to hear.

  She returned his smile and said, ‘I have missed you my dear Nikka.’ Then she took a moment or two to collect herself, then she began again. ‘They need me Nikka. They do not want me, but they need me. Oinoir is… he is lost in his grief and Decheal just revels in being contrary. They are worse than children, Nikka.’

  ‘Then lead them, Haumea.’

  ‘But I cannot. Sometimes I believe that I can. Sometimes I find the strength or resolve, but most of the time it is simple bluster or frustration.’

  ‘And what do you think that leadership is? All the leaders that desired the title were only interested in the honour, or the power. Those few individuals that truly led did so due to necessity. Pure need drove them; the need to survive, the need to breathe again.’

  ‘Leading is easy,’ said Nikka with another laugh. ‘It is just forcing everyone else to do what you want. It is following that is hard. I always struggled with following. Mind you, I am not sure that I ever truly got the chance to lead either, so why listen to a dead Cerni?’

  This time Haumea laughed. Then she straightened and smiled at her friend. Then she thudded the heel of her staff on the soft floor beneath her and said ‘Goodbye my friend.’

  -*-

  Aviti stood with only Enceladus for company in front of the pulsing stars. She had sworn at him in the sullen silence of her heart, whilst the others passed her by. At first, she had been too wrapped up in herself to even acknowledge them, but Haumea had caught her gaze.

  The Giantess had been the first of the Giants to go, then Decheal had gone and finally Oinoir went. Oinoir had looked every bit as terrified as Aviti had, but Haumea had smiled at her before she left. The Giantess’ show of fortitude, whether real or forced, had shown her what she must do.

  Tyla had followed Wist through. He was already on the other side of this… this thing. She accepted his gentle encouragement through their bond. It was so strong, that she could almost hear his words. That thought caused her to laugh. It was seldom that Tyla said anything.

  Her laughter broke her fear’s hold over her, but she was still not ready. Then she took four deep breaths. One for each of the horrors she assumed that she would have to face, and a final one for herself.

  Then she thrust herself into the void and the light fled from her. It was gone only for an instant, but there was terror for her in the dark. It was a deep and real fear, that rather than walking through a light shrouded tunnel, she had stepped back into that dark place inside her heart.

  Light bloomed all around her. Potent and unyielding, it stripped away her defences. All the pretences and subterfuges of her life burned away. It too lasted only an instant and, though far more painful than the darkness, it was easier to bear.

  When it too was gone, she found herself confronted by an impossible sight: a farmyard, a main house and a stable. There should be livestock here too, but there was none. The cart was there, but the mule was not.

  Not here, she thought, anywhere but here. It was the place she longed to be, but not like this. Not now.

  Aviti stood a few paces from the back door and stared at it. She knew it as well as she knew her own hands. Aviti had passed through that portal a thousand times. Now she feared it more than she had feared stepping into the light.

  The door opened as if blown by a gust of wind from within, and out stepped Dregan. The olive-skinned mage was dressed in his fine black robes, with their familiar dark, intricate patterns woven into their fabric.

  The last time she had seen the mage he had been mutilated beyond all recognition. The last time she had seen him, she had suffocated him.

  ‘Greetings Aviti,’ he said. ‘Will you not come in? They have been waiting for you.’

  ‘Waiting for me?’ she repeated in a voice that was not her own.

  Dregan smiled. It was so incongruous that Aviti laughed, making herself blush.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said, ‘Sorry for everything.’

  The mage grew stern. ‘No. Do not apologise, for you have nothing to apologise for; not to me anyway. I only wish that you had acted sooner.’

  Aviti looked around herself again and allowed a pang of longing for the home she knew she could never regain. ‘Who is inside?’ she asked.

  ‘You know who is in there.’

  ‘Who?’ she repeated.

  ‘Those whom you have tied to yourself.’

  She took a couple of breaths and then said, ‘Thank you Dregan.’ Then she added, ‘I hope you find peace.’

  He smiled again and then his essence blew away on the wind.

  Aviti took a few steps forward and mounted the stairs that led into her house. She shuddered as her foot touched the landing.

  She tasted blood in her mouth and a sharp stab of panic threatened to overwhelm her. This was where Aviti’s brother had died. She had seen it in a vision, but it was all too real for her. Kerk, that mad priest, had led a mob down onto her family’s farm, the night Aviti had fled with Wist, Tyla and Faric. She had abandoned her brother to his death, only hours after they had cremated their father.

  But the sensation passed and she stood erect with her hand against the wooden door. It even felt the way she remembered it. Then she put her weight against it and it swung inwards. No horrors lay behind the door. No ghoul or apparition to welcome her home - just an empty hallway and shadows. She took an involuntary breath as she broached the portal. Everything was as she remembered it, apart from the air. There was no warmth in it. It was lifeless, flavourless. Even within the house, in the summer, the desert air would singe her lips.

  As Aviti walked down the hall, the wooden boards deadened her footsteps, but each one still sounded like a thunderclap in her ears. The doors to the bedrooms were shut, but she was not interested in them. Aviti headed to the kitchen.

  She would be in there.

  A single pace short of the open doorway Aviti stopped. She could hear a fire crackling in the hearth, and behind that, she could hear... She could hear singing. So Aviti stepped back into her mother’s kitchen and there she was, standing over the cooking pot at the fire, tending to the meal.

  Her brother sat at the table beside three empty seats: her mother’s, her own and her father’s. Aviti walked over and took her usual seat. Her legs trembled as she watched her mother move.

  Aviti looked upon a collage of memories. Her mother had never been well enough to serve them when they were grown up and her brother looked as he had the night she left, but the room and her mother were from her early childhood.

  Mabon, her mother, turned and smiled at her and her unease melted away.

  ‘My love,’ she said to Aviti, as Cairn continued to eat from his bowl. ‘How good it is to see you again.’

  Aviti tried to return her warm smile, but it fell from her lips as she looked at her father’s chair.

  ‘You took him from us Aviti,’ Mabon said.

  ‘I took him?’ Aviti asked, bristling with ready defiance.

  ‘Yes,’ said her mother. Her tone was flat, with no admonition held in it. It was a simple fact that she stated. ‘And only you can let him go.’

  She knew it was true. Her father was trapped in the bond with Tyla or his spirit was, or whatever was left when you died.

  ‘What about the lights,’ Aviti asked on an impulse. ‘The lights that I saw in Pyrite, the lights that talked to me.’ To me and Sevika, she thought. ‘They think I can help them somehow,’ she said.

  ‘And you can my daughter, for you are capable of great wonders.’

  Or greater horrors, Aviti thought.

  ‘But how?’ she asked, her voice growing tense. Cairn shifted i
n his seat, but did not look up.

  ‘You must find the answer within yourself, my brave daughter.’

  Within myself.

  ‘So, you will not tell me?’ she said.

  ‘I may not, Aviti. I may not.’

  ‘So, what may you tell me?’ She immediately regretted the anger in her voice, but it was out now. Mabon did not reply.

  Aviti flushed under her mother’s continued stare, so she changed tact. ‘What about your... your pain?’

  ‘What is it that you wish to know my daughter?’

  ‘Will I succumb to it?’ she asked. Aviti had suffered pain to some extent nearly every time she used her ability. Her mother had died from it. The only time Aviti had been spared it was when she had become intoxicated with its power, but her enslavement to the Intoli had taught her the perils of that bitter draught.

  ‘I only became a victim of the magic because I did not know to what my talent was best suited for,’ her mother said. ‘I tried to bend it to my will and force it to do what I wanted. By the time I discovered that, it was too late. I had no-one to teach me.’

  ‘Find your own path, my daughter, find your own path.’

  Aviti rubbed her face with her hands. ‘What about the twins?’ she said as her brother stood. He lifted his bowl and walked over to the sink where he put it down.

  ‘It is time for you to go,’ said her mother.

  ‘What about the twins, how do I complete them.’ She knew that was not right, but she could not remember what the lights had said to her.

  ‘What twins?’ her mother asked.

  What twins…?

  ‘It is time,’ said Cairn. He had moved around and stood in the doorway that led back outside. He pushed the door open and walked out.

  ‘No, not yet.’ Aviti’s protest sounded hollow, even to her own ears. She looked to her mother for support, but the edges of Mabon had started to blur, as if a veil dropped between them.

  ‘I love you,’ Aviti said as her mother smiled once more. Then Aviti rose from the table and walked toward the door. With each step, her mother and the room became less distinct. As she placed a foot on the porch at the rear of the house, she heard her mother say, ‘Goodbye,’ but Aviti did not look back to see her. Neither did she look back to see her house vanish.