The Invisible Hand

by Chris Northern

  "Kill anyone who makes a sound or tries to run," Caliran told his men as we began to move. "Anyone at all."

  There was no track and I had to concentrate on where I placed my feet. The odd brief glance made it clear there would be no chance of escape, not that I honestly thought it possible. Surrounded by armed men and physically exhausted, I wouldn't make it more than a few steps before being brought down. I saw that our path would take us close to the lake, and that we would probably walk along its shore. I briefly entertained the notion that I might dive into it and... well, drown with my hands tied. If the guards didn't fill me with arrows before I had the chance to drown.

  Caliran walked even more slowly than I did and cast glances my way with every other step. Reluctantly I came alongside him and matched his stride. He edged away, his smile telling me that he didn't want me too close. Beyond him I could now see the town. Buildings were burning here and there. The sight offered me no real clue as to what happened within. I had no idea how well or poorly my men fared. Neither they nor I were in control of events. Caliran had made it clear that any belief that I ever had been was pure illusion.

  "You citymen astound me; you have all the tools necessary to rule the world and gather every land and all peoples into a single empire, and yet you do not use what you have for that purpose. You conquered the Alendi and took their lands, and yet you will inevitably return them. Of the slaves you took, many will buy their freedom and return home to buy back their territory, resettle and eventually form an independent government. And you will let them! Why?"

  He sounded almost offended. I considered the answer to his question while I checked my surroundings and tried to glimpse some hope of rescue. I knew the solution to the puzzle but saw no advantage in telling him. I could have answered flippantly, that it was because you cannot trade with yourself, and that would be a true answer, though not one he would likely understand. Or that empires rise and fall inevitably; and adding one more to a long list of such empires served no purpose. That central control subverts the freedoms of the individual, and that we hold such freedoms dear to our hearts, knowing from our own history that eventually it would be our own freedom that would also be lost. The last king made that truth manifest, and he is why we keep the title of king amongst the senior magistracies. Not as a title to be aspired to, but a joke, as a position that confers no power and only one privilege. A privilege that few choose to make use of.

  "You have conquered some territories a dozen times in your seven hundred and fifty year history and always cast them adrift, only to see them make war against you again. Why?"

  Because people are resistant to change. What child learns to tie shoe-laces the first time the task is demonstrated? In a generation or two their governments grow to control the people again and take them unwilling into war. The lesson was clear and manifest in our actions; you were slaves of your own rulers and now you are slaves in fact; but here is freedom, this is what it is and how it works and how to earn and keep it. Now go and be free and we will respect you as equals. Yet they often failed to keep the lesson close to their hearts, allowed their rulers to once more chip away at their freedoms and control them in thought and deed. So the lesson had to be taught again.

  This is what I would have said, had I not learned differently. Perhaps half those wars were fought at our own instigation to create a situation where we could resolve our own political disputes without causing a civil war. What more clear abuse of power was there than that? Tens of thousands of people slain or enslaved so that we did not have to suffer the consequences of war on our own soil and among our own people. I would not have believed it possible. I hadn't known. But now I was aware of it I had to try and change it. The only way to do that would be to become king and propose a change in the constitution; and probably die for it instead of successfully seeing the change enshrined in law. To try to change the constitution would put me at odds with my own class, my own culture, my own people.

  Yet I would have to try, if I lived to make the attempt.

  The voices in Darklake raised again in waves of sound that washed over us. Half celebration, half mocking jeer, and still some cries of anguish and pain mixed in. Caliran stopped and turned to watch. Without instruction his creatures came to a ragged halt in a loose semi-circle around us. I watched also. Watched as my own men marched out of the gates of Darklake amid a milling crowd of those who rejected them in word and deed, hurling stones and insults. Shields raised in defence, calm and controlled, my men marched out of Darklake and turned south. With discipline and order and restraint, my men left me.

  Was Sapphire among them? What would he do if he were here? What would he be doing? I knew the answer. He would be killing people. And he would keep fighting until his enemies were dead, or he was. He would be ashamed of me if I did nothing. He would be contemptuous of any concern for consequences. He had no restraint in him. And he wasn't here. I was.

  My gaze focused on Caliran's back. He watched my men leave Darklake. I could practically feel his satisfaction. It kindled an anger in me that grew and spread through my mind and body. He was close. There was no one between him and me. He was three steps away. I had no weapon. And he was a priest. If I tackled him unarmed he would call a spirit to his aid; one that threw lightning, or a spirit that would make me sleep, or some other being I couldn't guess at. His men would close in fast. They were armed. I was not. That wouldn't stop Sapphire, but I was not Sapphire. I needed to get Caliran away from them. I needed to stop him from summoning a spirit. The dark waters of the lake gleamed in front of us. Every muscle in my body slowly tensed. The idea flooded through my mind, mingled with my anger, merged with my need to act, and triggered that need.

  When I hit him I was already moving fast. He had heard me, begun to turn. Too slow and too late. My arms looped over his head and wrapped around his body. I lifted him from his feet, hugged his frail body against my chest, squeezed the breath out of him. Shouts of warning, a curse and startled cries erupted around us. I ignored them as I staggered, my momentum checked by the impact, then recovered my balance. He was heavier than he looked. I held him tight, squeezed his chest. His arms flailed ineffectually as I took another step, regaining my momentum, my attention fixed on my goal. Something hit me in the back, pushed me forward even as I kicked off from the shore and threw myself bodily into the lake.

  The cold hit me like a sledge-hammer. Had I not been here before, I might have gasped involuntarily and begun to drown in an instant. My muscles relaxed against my will and Caliran writhed in my grip, shock or desperation lending him strength. The cold nearly forced the air out of me but I held on. Grimly, I tightened my grasp, held him close, squeezed his body against my chest. The shock of entering the ice-cold waters had passed over me like a wave and receded. I bent at the waist, knowing only which direction was away from the shore and guessing which way was down. Kicking with my feet wouldn't be enough to get us away from his men, who must be crowding the shore, perhaps following us into the water. I kicked hard and pushed us away from the surface, down into the dark. Caliran twisted and turned into my embrace. His forehead struck my face as bubbles streamed past my eyes. His teeth found my flesh and he bit deep. My lips peeled back from my teeth in an involuntary grimace; cold water streamed into my mouth and I blew it out, pressed my lips closed. I squeezed, trying to force the breath out of him. I could barely feel my own body; the cold had penetrated deep into my bones and sapped my strength. I needed to breathe. Needed to get his teeth out of my face. Needed to let him go and strike for the surface. But if I did, he might live, and most of all I needed him to die.

  When the water seemed to close in around us with a firm yet even pressure, I was barely aware of it. For a moment after that, as I struggled with the pain in my face, fought to squeeze the life out of him, I was uncomprehending of what that pressure meant. Then it hit me. The whirlpool that drew water out of the lake and forced it through a narrow tunnel of bare rock before spewing it violently out a quarter of
a mile away. The current had us.

  I almost panicked. I twisted in the water. I couldn't let him go. If I escaped the current, he might. Yet I needed to get rid of him if I were to stand a chance of saving myself. All my anger turned to fear. The thought of being dragged down to drown and be battered by rock as I fought against the implacable power of moving water terrified me. I relaxed my grip, fought to get my bound hands round his neck as he twisted in my arms. His teeth tore free of my cheek as I tried to get my legs between us and kick him away. It was too late. The water moved around us, spun us both with a casual strength that overwhelmed me. I didn't know which way was up. A booted foot struck me in the chest as Caliran flailed to be free. I didn’t care anymore. I tried to let him go but the cold had stripped the feeling from my body and I could not feel if I succeeded. I tried to move through the water but might as well have tried to lift a mountain. A moment later my whole body slammed into solid rock and was dragged along the surface. Bubbles erupted around my face as the breath was forced out of me. I clamped down on my jaws, fought my heaving chest, tried to keep some air in me. I couldn't feel if I succeeded but must have. Darkness, cold and the hard rock still surrounded me. I could feel Caliran's body half under me as we were dragged along together. Hands bound, I flailed for a grip, felt one finger break against rock, felt one hand grip. I clung to the rock desperately. And Caliran clung to me.

  My mind felt sluggish. The cold waters powered past me. I barely kept enough awareness to hold on to the rocks. I kicked my legs feebly, tried to dislodge Caliran so his weight did not bear down on me. I needed to breathe. My chest hurt deep inside. Somewhere inside me a powerful muscle demanded to move. My lungs ached. I knew I was going to die here. When Caliran finally slipped away, one hand clutched desperately at my ankle only for a moment before he was gone. I felt no satisfaction in it. Just an awareness of his grip as it broke and he was pulled away into the dark. Had he not touched my ankle I think I would not have thought to move my legs. I fought the current to find a foothold, wasn't sure I had but pushed anyway. I moved a few inches, elbows bent. I let go the rocks and reached for another grip. A higher grip. Sobbed inside my head as I realised I had no idea which way was up. I fought for enough control to blow only a small amount of air out of my lungs. Felt the bubbles roll up my face. I was rising. It would do no good. I had to move slowly, each foot individually, hands together, elbows hugging the rocks, desperate to keep from being snatched away from the rock by the pull of the current that rolled over me. The darkness that swallowed my senses began to feed on my mind. The cold had sucked the strength out of my body, stolen away all feeling and now stole into my heart, sapped my will, demanded I surrender. I moved like a crab, as mechanically as a water wheel, an unthinking machine intent on its purpose. Sharp rocks cut into my hands and scraped against my face and body. The pull of the current eased. Bubbles rolled over my face as I crawled along the rocks. There was pain in my chest. I wasn't sure if I had breathed in. I stopped moving. For a moment I focused on myself. I was still here. I must still be alive. I moved again. The power of the current had faded, was almost gone. I could move faster. If I could move faster. If I could move. Something broke deep inside my mind. My body was lost to me. I felt as though I were outside it. As though I surrounded it. Darkness seeped through me. All feeling faded and I drifted mindlessly away.

  #

  An endless flow of images slipped past my senses. Some clear and close, others distant and vague. Some so large as to be overwhelming were shot through with an endless number of minuscule particles that hummed with hidden power, smaller than dust yet more powerful than suns. Fractions of myself vied for my attention. I was none of them. All of them. Apart. Diffuse. Watching from distances. More aware of some, unaware of everything. Everything was all right. Just as it should be. Nothing was wrong or right. Moonlight through drifting clouds. Endless drops of rain fled before the wind over a grey sea that thrashed silently. Trees bent before a storm on an island. On a shore I sat and threw stones at a cairn of pebbles, dull and listless, unfeeling, involved yet separate from a task that meant nothing.

  You were the one.

  Far away, above and beyond me, a door opened. Someone huge leaned over me and filled my world. He bent close, the pressure of displaced air pressed against delicate skin. A slow voice spoke, echoed over time. "My son?"

  You came with me.

  Two figures struggled on atop flat-roofed building in the rain-darkened night. I was one of them, hurt and desperate. Pushed to an extreme where any resolution was better than none.

  A grey sphere hummed in tune with endless numbers of others that were identical yet unique, they moved yet were still. The table stood alone in a dusty wood cabin far away from anything. There were footsteps outside.

  Dubaku will ask me to watch for you.

  The sliding crunch of footsteps over the wet pebbles faded into the listless clack of practice swords, one held by someone for whom I felt a brief affinity. A screaming horde of warriors thundered through the breach in a wall and I almost felt some emotion, perhaps fear, but distant and far away.

  I am moving you when you left. Will find you when you came away.

  Snow fell silently around a distant point of awareness where a forest cooled as trees pulled in on themselves. Footsteps crunched through the snow and I drifted through city streets. A million voices spoke and I didn't hear one of them.

  You have to come with me now.

  And there am I, lying in bed, surrounded by books and half eaten food, a goblet and book in hand. Overweight. Dissolute. Alone. I wade through a steaming sea of blood and body parts, face and body scarred and hard, my expression implacable. Far away, I sit on a fountain’s edge with a child on my knee and others playing around me. I am laughing. Jocasta is middle aged, softened by time, she is watching. She is smiling. Her smile is love. A hand touched my shoulder, my heart, closed around my mind, focussed my attention as my perceptions dropped away to a sea unseen, a million mingled images, none of which filled my awareness.

  Come away.

  Glimpses of Jocasta washed through me; or I moved through them. They separated into different times and places as I moved through them faster than thought. "Magic is in everything." Her voices filled me and were gone like the tide. The loss tore through me like glass. Endless shards of glass filled my chest and fought to break free, lacerating me.

  Be here.

  Pain closed in from all sides and began to define me.

  Be now.

  #

  My eyes snapped open as I jack-knifed around an explosive racking cough that ripped through my whole body. The violent spasm consumed my awareness. Something struck my head as I jerked violently forward but the pain was nothing compared to the fire that ran through my veins and howled deep in my chest as I sucked in painful air and coughed it out like shards of broken glass. I was wrapped around the act of breathing, struggling not to, even as my body demanded it from me. Each choking breath pushed away a chaotic swirl of confused images and replaced them with stark simplicity.

  I lay on my side in the dark, my legs in the water even though I had pulled them up and wrapped my arms around them, body shuddering uncontrollably. Beyond the rocks directly in front of me lay dark, still waters and then a distant shore where blurred figures moved violently. I easily ignored it. It happened far away and breathing consumed all my attention. After a while I began to become aware of my self as an entity separate from my body. Like veils being lifted one by one, I was revealed to myself. I wasn't sure I liked it much.

  Painfully, slowly, I forced myself to move. I rolled onto my belly, pushed awkwardly with bound wrists until I came to my hands and knees and crawled out of the water. My hand screamed at me as an already broken finger bent against a rock. I grunted with the sudden pain but deliberately put it aside. I stayed on my hands and knees for a moment longer. Coughed and spat and breathed. My arms shook with weakness. There was no choice but move, or collapse. I sat back on my heels and lo
oked around.

  The world eased into focus. The sky above me was still dark but few stars showed. The false dawn had begun and gently pushed back the night. It was later than I'd guessed.

  Cold water dripped off me. I blinked it from my eyes, tried to separate images at the same time as I tried to take stock of myself, to make sense of my position in the world as memories of the immediate past stole into my consciousness. Other images faded away, strange perceptions that made no more sense than a profound dream considered moments after waking. Had I been asleep or had I been dead? Had Dubaku sent a spirit to bring me back to my body? Did I have a future where Jocasta was my wife and our children played around us? Or was I to be the grim figure wading through a sea of blood? Several deep breaths later and only a few perceptions remained, and even these were pushed from my mind as I took stock of my surroundings.

  To my right lay the trading post. It was the closest destination, yet it still seemed far away. Distant sounds of fighting intruded on my awareness but I could not bring myself to focus on that. The memory of cold waters filled me for a moment. Caliran struggling for life in my arms, even as I struggled to end him. The sudden black impact as I struck rock. The overwhelming power of the water that surrounded me.

  Caliran had been sucked away, into the underground stream.

  I tried to imagine the path through which his body might have been dragged. He couldn't breathe underwater. He couldn't speak the name of the spirit that would push the waters back. Surely he was dead; his broken body thrown out into the chasm half a mile away, to strike the far wall under the pressure of the torrent that emerged there and then fall lifelessly into the river below. Half a mile away, where the woodlands began. A small fire burned there, a flicker of flames and a thin column of smoke; Dannat, I guessed, but it could be anyone. I would have to find out, but later. Behind me, Darklake lay in enemy hands. To my right, the trading post and Lendrin Treleth, untrusted. Beyond, my men marched further away. To my left, the hostages held still by Caliran's men. I felt myself at the centre of things, yet disconnected from everything. Alone and in the wrong place. No more a part of things than I would be had I died. The world went on around me as though I had never been. If I were going to reconnect to reality I had to move, and to move I had to decide where I would first go and begin to try and pick up the threads of my life.