The Shifting Pools

by The Shifting Pools (epub)

  It felt real. It felt true. An honest account of how it is to live with grief each day. An expression of grief that held true to just how much that person was still part of your daily thoughts – however many years later, however much the world around you had forgotten. It was a memorial that was added to, re-created in some way, each day; a visual journal of love and loss.

  How painfully, beautifully right. It was a breakthrough – how to express this kind of pain authentically, powerfully. It was open, honest, visible but not sentimental, not asking for anything other than just to be witnessed. It was not packed away, hidden, ugly.

  There was pain; that was obvious. But it was stated and presented so simply. So unaffected. It was the most beautiful, intense expression of grief, and living through grief, that I have ever seen.

  There was no big empty strip of fabric stretching off into the future. The whole thing would just grow naturally each day; a real thing, grounded in today. The flowers were not in a set pattern, but ran, bustled, nestled beautifully in random truthfulness across the fabric. Some days were so dense, so full of flowers and pain; in other places there were stretches of white fabric showing underneath, then a brief posy of flowers – and so on. So honest. An ECG of the grieving heart. As I watched, new flowers gently appeared on the strip. They weren’t sewn on - they were each alive, never fading, sustained by something beyond.

  An immense chronological strip, decorated with each thought as it happened. A blossoming. A testament. Not a shrinking, but a growth.

  Tonight we fall through our dreams forever

  And reveal our secret way ahead

  Trading every stone we’ve thrown for feathers

  So we can fly awake instead.

  Stefan Mørk

  Enanti: the present

  New dawn

  I flew all the way back to the camp. I was alive with this new knowledge that I had risked so much for. I also knew that Raul and the others would be frantic at my lengthy disappearance, and I hoped he would understand. I hoped they had not been rash – tried to launch some rescue party, that would more likely have led to their deaths. I had no idea how long I had been away; it had felt like many lives that I had drifted for in those dark wings. I urged my own wings to work faster, cutting through the night with great strokes.

  I was flying over the sea all the way. The Straits between the Shadow Realm and Enanti were bleak and restless, waves heaving upwards in the night and throwing spray onto my wings. I didn’t care. I knew that I could just as easily dive down into those depths and swim my way back to Enanti. I had no fear of that sea – a wide chasm that the Shadow Beast had always intended to intimidate and separate us from ourselves.

  I came upon the camp sooner than I had realised. My concerns had been founded – the entire body of the Free had moved from the forest, right up to the empty shoreline that marked the very edge of Enanti. Beyond that lay the sea, and beyond that the desolate wastes of the Shadow Realm.

  I could see that they had dug themselves into defensive positions, in anticipation for an invasion of the Craven. I spotted Raul with his men around a rough training ground, hunched over the ground, drawing out their strategies with long sticks.

  My landing wasn’t exactly under control, so great was my sense of urgency. Then I ran to Raul, who clasped me to his chest.

  “We were just about to leave. Three of us. We were about to come over the sea for you,” he managed eventually, into the top of my head.

  I didn’t know how to explain all that had happened, all that I had learned.

  “I’m OK – I really am OK!” I beamed up at him, my smile coming from a different place than the million smiles that had come before.

  “Did he let you go? God, Eve, you should never have gone. You should never have gone alone. It was too risky…”

  “It’s OK. I had to go. You know that. It was my choice.”

  “How are you here? What happened?”

  I wanted to share my treasure with him, the gold that I had taken from the Shadow.

  “He can’t destroy us, Raul, not unless we choose it ourselves. He just doesn’t have that power. His power is in mirage, sleight of hand and tricks with mirrors. He makes you believe things are one way, but they are not!

  “He is immensely powerful – but not in the way we thought. We have always had the power to end this, to reduce him, but we’ve never been able to see it.”

  I talked low and urgently, giving them a tiny glimpse into what I had seen in his wings, and they all listened. I spoke of the worlds I had seen, the birth and death, the paths shooting outwards that whispered unfulfilled possibilities. I even spoke about the versions of myself I had seen down there, and Raul squeezed my hand as I revealed so much of myself.

  When we had a chance to speak alone, as the others continued their conversation, I said to Raul, “I belong to no one but myself. The Beast works by making you think that by thinking certain things, feeling certain ways, you belong to him. You don’t. You never did – unless you let those darker sides of yourself control you. Then you are lost.”

  Raul nodded his head quietly, taking it all in.

  “I know I have those darker urges in me Raul – I think now that we all do. And I think in some strange way they give this strange blade power that I don’t really understand.” I gestured to the huge broadsword that I had somehow pulled from myself.

  “But I also think it is important how I choose to use this blade. Whenever I clasp its handle, I can feel the energy pulsing through it – I can almost feel the streaks of light pulsing out in every direction, illuminating the infinite number of paths I could choose to go down. And sometimes it feels as light as a feather, and other times I can hardly lift it. I don’t understand this sword; it feels like redemption and temptation all rolled into one – but I do now believe that I am the one driving it; not the other way around.”

  Lara came over: “I need to speak to you about the sword.” She looked concerned.

  My heart sank. I hadn’t wanted to think that Lara, my friend, would be holding onto the same concerns and suspicions about me that had been circling the camp like vultures since the sword had appeared.

  She caught my expression. “No! It’s nothing like that, Eve. I had some information for you – you need to hear it.” She placed her hand firmly on my hand, willing me to feel her belief. “I know that there is nothing to be afraid of, with you finding that sword. It is a good thing. A part of you. And I know you, and I don’t have the slightest concern that you have that sword. But I need to talk to you about it.” She glanced around, and then: “not here. Any talk of the sword out here will just get tongues wagging again, and that’s not going to help anyone. I want to talk to you first – then I will talk to the rest.”

  We walked off to the edge of the camp, far enough from the fire to have the night largely claim us, with just the faintest flickers of occasional light dancing across our faces when the fire spat brightly.

  “I had a vision in the night, Eve. I spoke to the main Oracle. My mind was stumbling towards some truth, and the Oracle must have sensed that, and wanted to help me.

  This sword you have – it is a protection sword. It was pulled from you, by yourself, at a time you needed protection. And that is crucial. It is not an attacking sword. They are very different things, although they look exactly the same. It is the manner in which you found it that is the important detail. If you had sought a sword at a time of anger and hatred, you would hold an attacking sword. With an attacking blade in your hand, you can’t protect yourself; you are lost to the Shadow Beast in fundamental ways. You can only kill. And likewise, a protection sword isn’t meant for aggression. If you try to use it in that way, you are lost. Remember that, Eve, when we go into battle. You get to choose how you use that sword. Remember what it is meant for. Don’t forget that – even when it feels so tempting; even when it feels like
the obvious thing to do.”

  Each word made perfect sense to me. My own mind had been half aware of this, had already had some sense of knowing that how I chose to use the blade was important.

  “Yes,” I said. “You are right. I can feel that. And I won’t forget how to use it. I can feel the power it has.”

  Enanti: the present

  Reclaiming the land

  The starved light of dawn prompted us to seek our beds. We would need our rest before the night ahead. We had talked through the past night, carefully birthing our plan.

  We had to cross the sea – all of us together – to the Shadow Realm.

  Some would fly out over the sea, some would swim, and we would land on the shores of the Shadow Realm at dusk. We knew that many of us would be killed. There was nowhere to hide in the desolation of the Shadow Realm – no tall forest cover at all. We knew that creatures roamed the wastes unconfined, sating their appetites on anything they could find.

  Our strength lay in knowing the limitations of the Shadow Beast. Once seemingly so omnipotent, a chink in his armour had been revealed. No, not so much that, as a diamond-plating of our own shields and hearts. A sword or an arrow could still kill us, but we no longer had to fear a perpetual death, a rendering of our entire being. Living while dead.

  It was an astonishing sight – seeing the Free take flight as one. Our numbers had swelled to more than 200 over the past few days, and all were ready for the night ahead. Some chose to plunge into the silvered waves. The sea and the sky thickened with life as we headed out over the Straits. As far as I could see in either direction, I saw us, the Free, all on the wing or gliding through the water beneath me. We flew in on a cloud of expectation.

  A dark smudge thickened on the horizon, taking form as we drew closer. From our height we could see much of the littoral, and glimpses of the interior. In the centre was the Great Hall, with its arching buttresses and glittering domes. It was an astonishing structure, of flowing lines and pinnacles. It looked as if it had been carved from one block of obsidian, so flawless were its languid curves. It was seamless, jointless, perfect. And it shone. Not a glittering, sharp, refracted glow, but a smooth, seductive dark luminosity – like an opulent black pearl. It was an unearthly beauty, a menacing pull that drew you in. One end of the Great Hall launched out over the sea, taking full advantage of the towering cliffs. A tiny door up there opened out directly onto the clifftop, using it as a balcony.

  The front side of the Great Hall was an extended stretch of thicket and thorns, reaching all the way down to the sea. We couldn’t see beyond the Hall, but we had heard that this part of the Shadow Realm was covered in thick, low jungle creepers, with plants that moved and could devour a person whole, and where the dreaded Glades of Truth were said to be dotted – picking apart the seams of your sanity. Once trapped in there, you may as well face The Riving, so mad could you be driven. Shattered into a million pieces, blown away on the wind.

  We landed as the sun began to spill the blood of that day onto the sea below. The day was gone, and we must enter the night.

  It had to be that way. The cover of the night would aid us against The Craven. With their stiff masks blinkering them, we could use the dark to our advantage. The Creepers were our main fear – creatures who could camouflage themselves by assuming human form, then self-detonate when they got close enough. But because of the nature of their attacks, we would have been equally hampered in the daytime. We just had to trust that our lookouts and scouts would pick up on them. We would only face The Riven once we were close to the Shadow Beast, we knew, and I hoped that the talk we had had before we set off would retain its influence once we were actually face to face with the Beast. Knowledge can be one thing, but feeling something and trusting in it, quite another.

  “You OK?” Raul asked, to my right.

  “Yes. I’m ready. I really think we can do this.”

  “We can. And we will. What are you taking in?”

  I relaxed my mind, and allowed everything to flow in – the crashing and draw of the waves behind us, the suck of the water back over the pebbles, causing some to tumble back down the incline, the shallow breathing of the men and women all around me in the dark, the rustle of feathers and the uneasy shifting of feet. I knew that the decision to do this at night had been strongly resisted by some in the camp. Raul, Silas and I had explained why it was our only option – that the cloak of night could be used to our advantage, taken back as a valid strategy from the very Realm that had commandeered it.

  I let my senses stretch out further, beyond our company. Tucked into the night and coming closer on our left flank I felt the unsettling slide of something approaching. A Creeper.

  “A Creeper, to our left.” I breathed to Raul. “Coming closer.”

  I felt the second that the Creeper came out of cover and changed form.

  We ran over to the left of our group, and saw a man wandering slowly towards us, smiling and gesturing apologetically.

  “Sorry, just needed a comfort break.”

  I felt the waves of bitterness and malevolence rolling off him – completely at odds with his friendly persona. His disguise was so perfect, anyone would have mistaken him for one of our band.

  “Shields up!” I cried to the people closest to us. “I know you!” I accused the Creeper, as I ducked behind my own shield. He snarled, suddenly abandoning human form and rushing towards us on all fours, snarling and slavering. Then – boom! – an almighty shockwave sent us falling backwards as The Creeper detonated. He had taken none of us with him. But we knew he would not be the last that night.

  We all lived through many lives in those long, dark hours. Many thousands of The Craven were unleashed upon us, but we were well-skilled in confronting them, and we suffered few losses. After a night of confusion, effort and courage, we saw a thin edge of grey lighten the horizon, splitting the sky from the sea. A crack of light coming in.

  We had fought our way around to the part of the Great Hall that was closest to the coast, where the turret hung out precariously over the cliffs. With The Craven largely defeated, we now faced The Riven. I steadied myself with a deep breath. I had seen these creatures before, but they still sent a shiver through me. Most were foul-faced, grotesque forms – the distillation of the very worst in us. Formed by rabid, murderous intent, they were strong, ruthless and killed blindly. A few were shockingly beautiful. Their dark faces were alive with sensual promise, and their skin sparked and glittered as they moved. They were the hardest to bear, the hardest to fight. The male versions of these Riven were the embodiment of physical masculine perfection, and they wore little to hide it. The female ones did likewise, and a momentary hesitation from an adversary was taken full advantage of. In close contact with one of these, you were hit by such a shock of sensual awareness, that your mind was not your own for a few vital seconds. And that was their greatest weapon. Some, I was told, took on the perfected form of a lost love, even slipping in details such as a favourite necklace or arm cuff. I had myself seen the hesitation in one man as he gasped with recognition of something he had lost in the Riven in front of him. His sword had come down, his eyes full of longing as she had stalked towards him. He was completely undone. He didn’t see the dagger glittering in her hand, probably didn’t even feel the sting of it as she slid it between his ribs, cutting his heart.

  As the light swelled, the wind picked up. Dark clouds were tumbling through the sky, racing in from the north. Bullets of rain started to sting our cheeks, driving into us from the side, and making our footing less sure on the shingle.

  More Riven flooded towards us from all directions, but we were holding our own. I flew up and down the lines of our people, shouting reminders to them that the Riven were not as they appeared, reminding them to see through it all.

  Suddenly archers took up positions either side of us on the shoreline, sending shafts of death flying towards
us.

  “Shields up!’ I heard the scream, and quickly twisted in the air, trying to avoid the deluge. One arrow hit me in the wing, piercing through, but not causing any real damage. I tore it out as I struggled to find space to land, finding a spot at last in our squeezed position. We were all trapped on the ground now – pinned down by the sheer number of their archers. It was far too dangerous to take flight.

  “Up off the beach!” I cried, just as Raul, Silas and the other leaders urged the people nearest to them to do the same. “We must get off the beach!”

  We started to push our way up towards the hinterlands of this Realm – leaving the shingle for the deepening thicket. Brambles and creepers clung to our legs, forcing us to slash and cut with every step, slowing us down and making us vulnerable. The dagger that Raul had insisted I take for protection was being well used now – and with gratitude. My sword, too, seemed to slice through the tendrils like butter.

  Suddenly a huge throng of the Riven were in front of us. We skidded to a halt, completely outnumbered, with more creatures coming at us from the sides. I swung my head around to catch the faces of my friends, all too aware of the desperateness of our situation.

  “The sword, Eve!” I heard Raul shout. I knew he was right, but I was so afraid to use it in the wrong way, that I had been failing to use it in the right way either. I raised the sword in both hands and thrust it out in front of me. It seemed to glow with a hidden promise, and my heart surged. I could see the impact on the Creatures immediately. They froze, and stepped back. Each step forward that I took, they retreated. I felt almost giddy with the power of it. And I felt I had it under control.

  But then I saw them. Standing right in the front row of this mass were three figures with faces that cut right to my core. They had the faces of the soldiers who had abandoned Laila to a hideous death, who had raped me, and they were leering at me now. I screamed, and started to race towards them. I was oblivious to the fact that all the Riven were now standing with their arms raised – the universal signal of surrender. I was half aware of the look of one of their faces as they exchanged a glance that seemed to be a pre-arranged signal, backed with a smug smile.