by James Maxey
Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought Sorrow held her head a little higher upon hearing this definition of true magic.
Gale, on the other hand, looked exasperated. “Make up your mind. Are you after revenge or peace? You can’t have both.”
“Don’t be foolish,” said Purity. “Revenge fits peace like a hand fits a glove.”
“If you’ve nothing to hide,” said Sorrow, “tell us everything. If you don’t use nails to gain your power, what is the source?”
“I’ve told you,” said Purity. “Hatred binds me. When I was thirteen, Skellings attacked my village. I watched them disembowel my father while my mother was raped. My youth and beauty spared me from the worst of their violence. I was taken as a prize to be presented to the Skelling overlord. His name was Gorg. He weighed three hundred pounds and smelled of rotten teeth. I was given to him on the eve of the winter solstice; it was considered good fortune for a Skelling warlord to deflower an innocent on that night.
“He was not gentle.” Purity shook her head slowly, as if trying to fight back the memory.
“I’m sorry this fate befell you,” said Sorrow. “I know all too well the cruelty of men. I intend to create a world where such things happen no more.”
Purity’s haunted expression changed to one of amusement. She chuckled softly. “You shall fail, little witch. Are you as blind as I was? Sheltered and protected, ignorant of the truth of the world?”
“My life has been anything but sheltered.”
“Then release your dreams of a just world to the winds. They are of no more value than dust. The core of life is pain and violence. You can no more strip cruelty from the heart of man than you can peel thunder from lightning. I learned this truth well on the night Gorg tore my flesh with his violent lusts. A weaker woman would have withered when faced with such a horrifying truth, to know that nothing compels the strong to have mercy upon the weak. I, on the other hand, embraced the truth. The world belongs to those strong enough to take it. I killed Gorg with his own dagger. I gouged his eyes from his fat face, then ran into the night, losing myself in the wild, frozen wastes of the Isle of Grass.”
“I’ve experienced those wastes,” said Sorrow. “You’re lucky to have survived, especially during the winter solstice.”
“But I didn’t survive,” said Purity. “I ran until I could no longer move my legs, then fell numb and senseless in the snow. My soul slipped loose of my body and I found myself alone, all alone, on an endless plain of ice. The sky above was bright with crisp stars. There was no wind. Never had I listened to such silence. I could see my lifeless body at my feet, the skin a pale blue-white. I was draped in nothing but a bearskin blanket. My naked feet and hands had turned black. Frozen blood crusted my face, though I cannot say whether this was my blood or Gorg’s.
“I turned from my body and began to walk. That weak slab of meat and bone no longer felt important to me. I journeyed for a very long time. My feet left no trace upon the snow. The quiet absorbed my every thought. All the pain of life slowly faded from memory. Not just the abuse I’d suffered, but the tiny pains, the small day-to-day agonies that accompany a body, the pangs of hunger or thirst, the needle pricks of heat and cold. I was free. Truly free, in a world where all was black and white, where peace was the final solution. The one heartache I felt, the one pain, was to think that all the living world was denied such a heaven.”
“No offense, but your afterlife sounds kind of boring,” said Infidel. “I’ve been to a couple of dead lands counting the one we’re in. Both had dragons, and definitely weren’t dull.”
“Ah,” said Sorrow. “But my afterlife had a dragon as well. Whether I had walked for hours or years, I cannot guess, but as I journeyed a shape rose on the horizon. As I grew closer I found a giant mountain of ice carved into the shape of a dragon. I entered through the mouth. Within this mountain were tunnels. I explored them, drawn by a force I did not yet understand. In the center of the mountain, where a true dragon’s heart would have been, I found an altar. Upon this altar was the Ice-Moon Blade. When I lifted it, my soul was pulled inside. Hush whispered to me. Then I woke.
“I was in a new body. It was springtime on the Isle of Grass, and the fields were covered in yellow flowers. In the placid meltwater of a nearby pool I saw that I was now a woman in her fifties. She was half lame and blind in her right eye as a result of beatings. I had only the faintest echo of her memories. She’d found the Ice-Moon Blade in a streambed where it had washed down from the glaciers. My spirit now filled a body whose original soul had withered long ago.
“I murdered her husband and his brothers, even her sons who treated her as no more than a slave. Eventually I was caught and killed. My soul once more retreated into the sword. What happened in the intervening gap I don’t know, but a dozen years later the blade was touched by a young woman, merely fourteen, who’d suffered a miscarriage after being kicked in the belly by her father. I rode her for a long time, and killed many men as I mastered the true power of the Ice-Moon Blade. Eventually, that body fell. To this day, the Skellings call her grave my grave. Since then, nine different women have carried my soul.”
“This one shall be your last,” said Mako.
“Truly? Kill this body if you wish. Drag it in the Sea of Wine for all I care. My soul will always fly free and return to the blade.”
Sorrow looked at me. “Looks like you aren’t the only bodiless soul aboard. Maybe Rott wasn’t after you. A two-hundred-year-old soul is probably a much tastier meal.”
Purity shook her head. “Do you seek to intimidate me with talk of the dragon of decay? I’m the prophet of Hush. Her power is greater than that of entropy. She is timeless. She existed before all, and will endure beyond all. From eternal cold, dark and silent, the world has flickered. Now it sputters; soon it fades. The hush of an unending winter night is the only true eternity.”
“The other primal dragons would argue with that,” said Gale. “Certainly the sea is eternal; Abyss is more powerful than Hush.”
Purity shook her head. “The sea shall freeze, go silent, and find peace. The oceans are merely restless ice; one day they will slumber.”
“I wouldn’t be so cavalier about Rott. Death is forever,” I said, aware of the irony that I should make such an argument.
“In the cold, even death loses power. Decay ceases; entropy grinds to a halt.”
“For a little while,” said Infidel, raising the Gloryhammer. “But sooner or later, the sun will rise again.”
“The sun?” growled Purity. “Glorious, the dragon of the sun, shall be the first to die when the Jagged Heart is in my grasp.”
“What?” asked Mako, sounding amused. “You’re going to go jab the sun with a harpoon?”
“Killing it forever, yes,” said Purity.
Mako no longer looked amused. His brow furrowed as he looked at his mother. “That, uh, can’t happen, can it?”
Infidel cleared her throat, “When I was in Greatshadow’s realm, he told me that the Jagged Heart was created when Hush fell in love with Glorious and had her advances rebuffed. The bad blood goes back a long way.”
“This is stupid,” said Mako. “How does one harpoon the sun?”
“You can’t,” said Sorrow. “Not in the material world. But in the abstract realms?”
I buzzed in with my paper tongue. “Aurora told me the Jagged Heart had the power to open the door to an abstract realm. Something called the Great Sea Above. It’s like heaven for ice-ogres.”
“I say it can’t happen,” said Mako, crossing his arms.
“I dunno,” said Infidel. “Greatshadow said the harpoon could have killed him. The abstract realms follow the same rules as dreams. Anything’s possible.”
“No,” said Sorrow. “Not anything. It’s not dreams that lie beneath the abstract realms; it’s myth. Myths are symbolic, resonant truth. Dreams don’t have to make sense. Myths must make more sense than actual reality.”
“I get that dreams are kin
d of random,” said Infidel. “But I hardly would call the myths I learned as a child sensible. I remember one where a wolf disguised himself as an old woman. Not exactly plausible.”
“It’s not the details that matter,” said Sorrow. “It’s the message. Myths are the vessels of great truths. They teach us about justice and love and courage. They help define who we are. Every culture I know of has a myth explaining the creation of the world, and foretelling its destruction. The notion that, before there was heat and light, there was cold and darkness, is a pretty common belief. Simple symmetry predicts that if cold was the beginning, it shall also be the end. Myths follow grand cycles. Everything that is created must one day be destroyed.”
Mako threw up his hands, utterly frustrated. “So you’re telling me it makes sense that someone can stab the sun with a long, pointy stick and kill it? You and I live in very different realities.”
Sorrow nodded. “The thing about myths is they tend to overpower reality. The great truths they carry they have the power to push aside the more mundane truths of the material world.”
“That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard anyone say,” said Mako.
“I agree,” Sorrow said, with a shrug. “That doesn’t make it false. I’m a materialist. My powers come from seeing through the illusions that limit most people when they interact with the material world. Even though my mind is superbly attuned to recognize reality, I live my life in daily pursuit of things that are not real. I search for justice. I follow a code of honor. I pursue fairness and equality. But justice, honor, fairness, equality... these aren’t real. They don’t exist as measurable objects. If there were a scale, and on one plate there were a single grain of sand, I could not place a single crumb of honor upon the counter plate to tip it. Yet I value these things more than food, shelter, or any comfort. I’ve pledged my life to advance these causes. Just because something isn’t real doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
“Truth is stark,” said Purity, staring at Sorrow. “Truth is hard. And truth is all that matters.”
I scratched my coconut skull. I’d heard these words before, from Father Ver. Was it pure coincidence that I’d hear them again? Or was it just evidence that when you stripped away the quibbling details of the various faiths, all fanatics essentially thought alike?
There were three loud bangs on the boards above us that caused everyone to jump.
“Ma!” Jetsam shouted, sounding as if he were kneeling on the deck directly above.
“What?” Gale shouted back.
“Sage said to let you know it was time,” shouted Jetsam.
“Thank you,” Gale shouted. She looked Purity in the eyes. “You’re a very lucky woman. I’m eager to get back to the material world, so, as tempting as it might be, I’m not going to keelhaul you. As for your fantasies of killing the sun, I think it’s best we end this now. I’m tossing both your sword and the Jagged Heart overboard before we leave the Sea of Wine. They’ll be lost forever.”
“No way!” said Infidel. “The Jagged Heart has to go back to Qikiqtabruk. I’ve made a vow!”
“On this ship, I’m the final judge and authority,” said Gale. “Consider yourself released from your vow. The harpoon goes overboard.”
Infidel protested, “But Aurora –”
“– wasn’t insane,” I said, putting my hand on Infidel’s shoulder. “Do you really think if she knew what Purity planned to do with the harpoon, she’d handle things any differently?”
“Stagger!” said Infidel. “I’m doing this for you! You’re the one who made the promise to Aurora!”
“She was dying.” I shrugged. “Was I supposed to say no?”
“So your vow to her was only a convenient lie?”
I crossed my arms. “There’s a difference between lying and changing your mind as new information becomes available.”
“What of our wedding vows? Can they also be tossed aside as new information becomes available?”
“What?” I asked, feeling dizzy. How had she made the leap to this?
Captain Romer, sensibly, had no patience for our little spat.
“Mako, meet me on the deck with the harpoon.”
Infidel placed herself in front of the stairs. “No one is leaving until I’ve had my say.” The hair around her face began to flutter, as if in a strong breeze.
“We know what you have to say,” said Gale. “I admire your sense of devotion, but you cannot prevail.”
“Anyone who... anyone who tries... tries to get past this door... will find out... how much I... can prevail.” Infidel sounded winded. She looked confused. Suddenly, the Gloryhammer slipped from her grasp and her eyes rolled up into her head. I leapt forward, catching her before she hit the floor.
“What just happened?” I asked.
“I blocked the air from flowing back into her lungs, causing her to faint,” said Gale. “She’ll be good as new in a minute or so.”
Mako slipped past both of us and headed down the hall.
Gale turned to Sorrow. “Is the sword safe to carry?”
“For you? I don’t think it’s a problem. You obviously have a robust soul. I think Purity can only flow into bodies when the host’s soul is weak or absent. That’s why her army seems so lifeless. She gathered other women with damaged souls to use in case her current body is compromised.”
“She might be able to jump into a body even if the sword doesn’t touch it,” I said. “The sword was knocked from her grasp by Brand earlier. It fell a few feet away but didn’t break the link.”
“It didn’t quite touch her now,” said Sorrow. “Fortunately, all her soulless spares are shackled. There’s no one she can jump to, even if she can travel more than a few feet from the blade.”
Purity listened to all this talk with a blank expression. If her ghost remained inside this body, she wasn’t wasting any energy on manipulating the face. Sorrow retrieved the Ice-Moon Blade carefully and handed it to Gale. They both held their breath for a second, then Gale smiled. “I’m still me.”
She left the hold, climbing to the deck. I followed, carrying Infidel in my arms. As we emerged into the permanent sunset, her eyes fluttered open.
“What happened?” she asked weakly.
I paused as I looked down at her face. I didn’t want to lie to her. But, if I told the truth, she’d be back on her feet, fighting to stop Gale. “You fainted,” I said, which was at least partly true.
“I don’t remember... were we arguing?” She lifted her fingers to the knot on the side of her head and winced.
“You’ve just overexerted yourself,” I said, sitting her down beside the door to the forecastle. Menagerie flapped over to us and sat beside her, a concerned look in his hound dog eyes.
“I had trouble breathing?” she said, half statement, half question. “I’ve never fainted before.”
I was glad that my coconut face and paper voice lacked expression. Otherwise, she would have readily sensed how troubled I was as I said, “It was stuffy in the hold. You’ve not had much to eat since you got injured. You’re breathing for two now. You need to take it easy. When we get back home, our first priority is going to be to find someplace where you can live in peace and quiet.”
She sighed. “Peace and quiet. It’s going to be...”
“Boring?” I asked.
“A nice change,” she said, scratching Menagerie on the back of his neck, where fur and feathers intermingled. “I swear, I really don’t wake up in the mornings thinking, ‘Boy, I can’t wait to fight a dragon today!’”
I laughed, or tried to. She smiled.
Then Mako came onto the deck with the Jagged Heart, still wrapped in its frost-covered sail.
Infidel’s whole body went stiff as Mako met his mother at the starboard rail. “What are they – ?”
“This is for the best,” I said, placing my root-hand against her shoulder, pinning her against the boards. “Aurora would understand.”
“You son of a bitch,” Infidel growl
ed, as her eyes flashed to anger. She thrust her arm toward the Jagged Heart, and shouted, “Fetch!”
Menagerie shot forward like he’d been sitting on a spring just as Mako flipped the sail over the edge, letting it unfurl, sending the harpoon toward the Sea of Wine. Menagerie’s ever changing form shifted, his mouth and wings growing bigger, his body smaller and more streamlined as he flapped to full speed. Gale tossed the sword overboard just as Menagerie’s jaws clamped onto the shaft of the harpoon. The weight of the harpoon proved too great for his pelican wings and he dropped like a stone, vanishing from my sight over the rail as the sword, too, disappeared.
I stood, spinning from Infidel, suddenly wishing we’d made more of an effort to find out how far Purity’s soul could travel from the sword. Because, whatever faint intelligence might yet linger in Menagerie, there was also the very real possibility that he was a body without a soul.
From off the starboard rail came the laughter of a woman, as the bloody sky above us began to snow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LAST, BEST HOPE
WITH A FLAPPING sound like the world’s largest swan taking to air, an angel rose next to the Freewind. I use the term angel only because that’s what springs to mind when one is confronted with a human body held aloft on giant feathered wings. Of course, calling the body human was stretching things a bit. The thing that flew above our ship was shaped like a woman, slender and well-muscled, but the limbs and torso were covered in black and tan fur similar to a hound. The woman’s hair was a mass of long platinum curls and as the breeze pushed the hair from her face I was shocked to find that her visage bore a striking resemblance to my wife. Menagerie had some of Infidel’s blood in him after all.
In the creature’s left hand was the Jagged Heart. In the right was the Ice-Moon Blade. The blended thing before us bent back her head and laughed as she flapped to the level of the crow’s-nest.
“What a marvelous shell!” she said, growing an extra set of arms from beneath her first two as she spoke. “It’s as malleable as false matter!” The black and tan fur rippled as it changed to a downy white. The enormous pelican wings were mostly white save for their black tips, but even these faded to the color of new fallen snow. Purity’s pale eyes glowed red with the reflected light of the omnidirectional sunset as she stared down at Gale and Mako.