by Joshua Cook
That should have been the end of the silence, the end of the nothing. But not all things happen as planned, and as the nothing was replaced in one shining true point of time, it became aware. The power of creation made it even here, and in its creation, it hated the light and it hated the sound. It hated what had replaced it. But it was new, and without power, so it fled. The remnant of what had been. It fled to the farthest points it could, fleeing the expansion, feeling the making.
The nothing fled and knew itself. It had no name, no form, and no thought but one; to return to before. The nothing ran, but always found creation behind it, chasing it. Regardless of how fast the nothing moved, the something was always right there. Eventually, the nothing gave it a name; existence.
The nothing ran for millions of years, and then one day, found a hole. A gap; a break in the creation that had come and displaced it. It was more nothing, but unlike itself, it was not aware. It had not been perverted by the act of creation. The nothing joined with it, and the hole became more, bigger, stronger. The nothing gave itself a name, knowing that as much as it hated creation, it hated that it knew and thought. It called itself Valkith.
Millions of years passed, or only a handful of days, we will never truly know. Dust and gas were created, condensed, and made new things. Suns, planets, rocks, everything. And still Valkith sat in his hole of nothing, hating, seething, and hating itself just as much as it hated what had replaced it. But Valkith was just a mind, a consciousness attached to nothing. In this darkness and hate, a plan came to it. A plan to fix this mistake it saw; creation, light, even itself.
Valkith left its hiding place and was horrified, even roused to greater anger by what it found. Where once there had been the perfect empty void and silence of pure nothing, now there were things everywhere. Matter, gasses, liquids, and even worse; life had started and come to creation. Life that had solid form. Life that bred and continued on. Valkith was stirred to great anger and set forth its plan to unmake it all.
Creation had been a sound, and the sound had echoes. Shadows of what was real populated outward, hidden from each other but close enough to touch if given the right power. Valkith went from world to world, taking tiny bits of itself, fragments of its power and hate, and placing them on these echoes. On each one, its fraction of its formless mind would be different, but each would be driven by the need and want to conquer and destroy the first note of creation.
When it had succeeded, Valkith would then take that fragment into itself and take back its power. No fragment would be able to stop the whole, and so Valkith would step-by-step, and part by part, destroy not only the main note of creation, but all the echoes as well, leaving nothing once more. The perfect empty void.
But Valkith didn’t understand creation, and this was its undoing. In the act of giving up the parts of himself to make new life, life that had one purpose, he still created. He made something. And this making perverted him, changed him. As he changed, what he created changed too, until the birth of the Spinner.
The Spinner was created by Valkith in some unknown Echo far down the line. Created to destroy in mind, instead the Spinner chose to protect as best it could. Lacking the power to destroy its siblings, or its parent, the Spinner chose to bind an Echo to another Echo, or in some cases, to the main note of creation. The binding would limit the spread of Valkith as each world it bound would only be able to go between it and the world it was connected to.
The Spinner bound us to the Slyph’s World. This is why, while we know of the other Echoes, and can even see them sometimes, we can’t open Bridges to them, and they can’t come to us. The Spinner is out there still connecting worlds, limiting the spread of the evil and desire for pure nothing that its parent spreads across creation.
Valkith is still out there as well, somewhere. Mutated and changed in ways beyond it ever thought, it still hates creation. What it does now, and where it is, however, is beyond us.
________
Cendan shuddered. The ‘story’ as Rivenwood had described it had been words in his mind that had overwhelmed him.
“Valkith? Spinner? So you’re saying... the Slyph is one of these fractions of something called Valkith?” Cendan wasn’t sure what to make of that. To think that the Slyph, for all her power, was just a fraction of something of far greater power was not something he wanted to contemplate.
“Yes. One that, oddly enough, chose to create herself, she mutated and changed as well. Grellnot, with its ravenous hunger, is closer to the truth of her birth than she is, even if he is a fraction of a fraction of the true power here.” Rivenwood paused. “I want to show you more. The next will be something visual as well. This is drawn from memories that were passed down, the split between us; the Shrouded and the Bridgefinders. You need to understand how and why the split happened, and how and why it’s important to fix.”
Cendan was curious about this; what had happened between these two groups? On the face of it, having both groups aligned would have been a boon beyond measure in the fight against the Slyph.
“Does this involve you and Oakheart?” That interaction between the two of them was another thing he needed to know. At least from this side, once he had a quiet place to work, he was going to search through everything Oakheart had given him on the Key to see if there was any mention of Rivenwood or these Shrouded people.
“No. This happened many years before either of us was born. However, the memories of this event have been passed down, just as Oakheart passed his down to you.” Was that a trace of humor in Rivenwood’s response?
“Does that strike you as amusing, Rivenwood?” Cendan needed every bit of information he could get, and if Rivenwood found something amusing, he wanted to know why.
“Yes, because the skill to transplant memories and knowledge into a fetish – or as the Bridgefinders call them, a focus – is one that Oakheart got from us. Though, we will get to that. First, let me show you the split.”
________
The two groups faced each other, each looking at a leader. One leader was a man clad in leather and wearing an assortment of tools and equipment on his belt, and in other places. On the other side, a woman, clad in a simple white robe, barefoot and smiling.
“Bandic, reconsider this course. We are one, you know this. The skills and abilities we share are far greater than this silly separation you have started.” The woman looked at the man with an appraising look, measuring.
“There is nothing else to say, Rin. There has been nothing left to say for months, even years now. The old ways are fine, but we need a new path, a new way to move forward. Our skills combined with craftsmanship, human skill; those will give us an edge over anything that comes for our world.”
Rin sighed, with more than a little frustration. “Bandic. We’ve covered this. Your craftsmanship is fine, and your followers, but we work in the framework that we’ve always had; within the natural world, using the power that lives here on our world. We have no quarrel with the Slyph directly. She only seeks to understand us.”
Bandic scowled at the name of the Slyph. “That creature is no friend of ours. She has plans and plots within plans and plots. We should close those Bridges into our world as soon as we find them, send her creatures back, and do no traffic with them.”
Rin shook her head. “All that would do is antagonize a vastly powerful creature. We keep her and her minions at a distance. We all know that some of her creations are less than friendly, and even the ones she made to be more acceptable to us, they have their own challenges, so to speak.”
Bandic spat. “Elves.”
“Yes the Elves. But splitting us like this, taking those who would combine craftsmanship and human machinery with the magic of this world and forming a new group... This is wrong. We can work something out.”
Bandic sighed and shook his head.
“Rin, we’ve tried this for three years. Walls go up whenever we try to do something new. Just because something works, doesn’t mean there isn’t a new
way that might be better.”
“And just because it’s new doesn’t mean it is better!” Rin shot back. “You want to leave? Fine, leave. But this group, all these people, Bandic, you’re splitting us up!” Rin waved at the crowd behind him. Nearly a third of the people as they called themselves were joining Bandic on his foolish push. Creation with magic was a careful and lengthy process. Materials were shaped for weeks, even months. Magic was used to help push things along, but to use shortcuts and the manual labor of the common man, was an affront to their very core.
“Rin, they come of their own volition. I didn’t ask them to join me. Not a single one. The world is changing; people are changing. How we work in the power needs to change along with it.” Bandic sighed. “We are not enemies here, Rin. Consider us cousins, family with a different focus. But we will not leave this course, Rin. Not at all, for any reason.”
Rin was silent for a long while, then with a long look at Bandic and his assorted followers, she gave a short nod.
“I will hope beyond hope that one day this does not change; that we do not become enemies. Trust me when I say this, however; this step will work more change than you could imagine. I only hope that the end result will be the better for it.”
Bandic nodded, but did not respond as he turned and walked away, his followers coming behind him.
________
Cendan shuddered, feeling cold if that was possible.
“So, Rin and Bandic; that was the start of the Bridgefinders? Bandic started it? What did Rin mean by the end result?”
Rivenwood paused, and all Cendan could do was think that he was mulling his answer over. Talking to a mind living in a tree had its disadvantages; you can’t see a face or read any body language.
“Yes. Though the names the Shrouded and Bridgefinders hadn’t come yet. Before the split, they called everyone who could use magic simply ‘the people’. The other names came later.”
“So, the split was because Bandic and his followers wanted to do things in a new way? Nothing wrong with trying something new, Rivenwood.” Cendan didn’t feel like Bandic had been in the wrong, really.
“Yes, though there was more to it. Bandic and his people didn’t trust the Slyph either and favored a much more direct approach to dealing with her. While Rin and the others favored the soft touch, the same way we deal with her today, Bandic led the way to the direct action of closing the Bridges and banishing creatures.” The response came back, filling Cendan’s mind.
“Good! You and Heather have been less than open about how and what you do with the Echo world.” Cendan felt himself get defensive about the Bridgefinders almost as soon as he said it. A more analytical part of his mind found this somewhat amusing; he was attached to them, the Bridgefinders, already it appeared.
“We talk to the creations of the Slyph to find out what she’s up to. We draw magical power through those creatures, power of her world in small amounts, and then in trade give the creatures that came through something in return. It’s all very equitable, honestly.” Rivenwood retorted back.
“What do you give them in return? What could you possibly have that they want?” Cendan asked, his mind instantly going to his Elven problem. “Money? Food? What?”
Rivenwood didn’t answer right away, and all Cendan could see in his mind was of a gathering storm, silence hung thick, and he began to wonder if he should break off contact, when Rivenwood finally answered.
“What they want. You need to understand, most of the creations that come through outside your machine’s focus are natural ones. Not created by the Slyph. The things that come through don’t have an agenda. Sometimes its food, or material goods. Sometimes it’s other things.”
“What other things?” Cendan wasn’t going to let this go. “Rivenwood, tell me. You want me to trust you all? You want me to put what happened last night out of my head? To work with you all? Tell me.”
Cendan felt his control slipping a bit. Teeth gritted, he waited for the response.
“Do we send women to the Elves? No, not anymore. Did we in the past? Yes. It’s a shameful item from our past. I am not proud of it, and due to your circumstances, not one I wanted to get into. We don’t tend to deal with the more aggressive creatures as a whole. Dwarves, gnomes, elves, treans, sprites; those are the things we deal with.”
“Treans? Never heard that one.” Cendan asked, picking up on the new name.
“Intelligent trees. Not many of them; they weren’t aggressive enough for the Slyph to be of much use.” Rivenwood responded. “Are your fears answered?”
Cendan pondered the answers he had gotten from Rivenwood.
“Are there any others outside these two groups? Outside the Bridgefinders and the Shrouded?”
Those storm clouds in his mind’s eye broke out in lightning at the question.
“Yes. But the less we deal with them, the better. There is no moral compass there; just power. But I still need to show you the final split. Drawn from my own memories. This is almost six hundred years after the initial split. Over the years, the two groups worked together at times, and we were on a somewhat friendly basis. There was even the occasional intermarriage between the two groups.” Rivenwood’s voice became sad, regretful.
“The two groups, though, became more and more separate over time. We stuck to the old ways, tried and true, simple, and natural. The Bridgefinders became more and more involved with machinery and the craft. They made wondrous things too. The headquarters of the Bridgefinders could never have been made any other way. The machine, EVA, was the near culmination of the craftsmanship and skill they commanded. But something ugly started to take hold in the group. You know what it was.” Rivenwood’s voice prodded an answer from Cendan.
“The hatred of Magic. The denial of its function and even existence.” Cendan answered, feeling where this was going.
“Yes. That group pushed farther, not content with the merging of technology and magic, they wanted to drop the magic part altogether. At the time of the final split, they were a small but vocal group in the Bridgefinders, but eventually, sadly... they prevailed. Which has led directly to where the Bridgefinders are today.”
Cendan nodded.
“So what caused the final split? You said it comes from your memories?” Cendan wanted to keep this on topic, and move on.
“Oakheart did, or at least his joining the Bridgefinders did. Oakheart’s true name was Mindeth Oakheart. He was born one of us, one of the Shrouded. He was also a Shaper of Things, what you are, what the Bridgefinders call a Maker. Early on, we knew that while he was born to us, his heart lay with them. His skills were amazing, even as a child. He was deft with the power, but craved more than we did here.”
Cendan inwardly celebrated the fact that he finally knew Oakheart’s real name. At least he could scratch that off his list of things he didn’t know about all this.
“So, his leaving was the final straw?” Cendan asked.
“Let me show you, then ask questions.” Rivenwood’s response came as a vision rushed toward Cendan.
________
Oakheart stood with his hands holding a large hammer, fidgeting with it as he waited.
“Aethlic my friend, what is the problem?” he asked the figure who was sitting down, leaning against a rock. “You know I don’t belong here; they know I don’t belong here; everyone knows it. Let me leave and be done with it.”
Aethlic Rivenwood sighed. Mindeth Oakheart was his best friend and had been for years. Talented beyond measure, he was however nearly blind to the political and power ramifications of his leaving.
“Oakheart, you know the relations between us and the Bridgefinders have been bad for nearly a hundred years, now. Too many disagreements over how and what to do now that the Slyph has turned aggressive. An aggressive turn that we many find the Bridgefinders at fault for.” Aethlic Rivenwood shook his head. Why some had to choose to get into direct confrontation with a super powerful magical entity he didn’t understand.
/> “Good! We should have done that as well. She’s untrustworthy, Rivenwood. Mark my words, she wants nothing good for us or our world.”
“I didn’t say she did, but before the Bridgefinders decided to force things by banishing creatures and closing Bridges, she wasn’t outright attacking us. We were managing her, keeping her off guard and off base. Soft power, Oakheart. Now, she creates creatures that are nightmares, creatures that exist to hurt and hunt. To destroy and harm.” Rivenwood pointed out.
Oakheart dismissed that with a wave of us hand.
“She would have done that, regardless. At best, the Bridgefinders accelerated the conflict a bit, but better to be prepared and start the conflict on your terms than the enemy’s.”
Rivenwood sighed. This was an argument that not only had he and Oakheart had many times over the last few years, it was one that had finally driven a wedge between the Shrouded and the Bridgefinders. That wedge was the reason that there were serious misgivings about letting Oakheart leave to join the Bridgefinders. Do you let someone who was as powerful as Oakheart join a side that only seems to seek further confrontation with a thing like the Slyph? Where is the line?
“You are my friend, Oakheart. I mean that. But the Bridgefinders have planted these ideas in your head. This is not the way to survive.” Rivenwood tried to be calm about it all, but knew that Oakheart didn’t want to listen.
“Aethlic Rivenwood, you are my friend. But this dancing around the Slyph will only lead to further loss. Action must be met with action.”