The Burden of Memory

by Welcome Cole

  “Bullshit. There aren’t any mysteries left for you. I can see that fairly clearly. Just so we’re square, I spend a fair amount of time loitering in your head, too. You’re not the reclusive priest on high you think you are.”

  He laughed at that.

  “So I ask you again, why me? Why am I privy to these… talents?”

  “I give you my word as a murderer and thief, I honestly don’t know. Not for certain, anyway.”

  “What do you know?”

  He looked up at the empty blue towering above them. He had an answer for that, she knew it absolutely. She also knew he was going to play his usual stubborn, hard-ass card before delivering it.

  “Do I look in the mood to guess?” she pressed, “Stop playing the prick for once in your life and just tell me.”

  “All right,” he said looking back at her. “Fair enough. I think you may be a backup plan.”

  “A backup plan? Well, that’s inspiring, jh’ven?”

  “I know. It’s probably not the most flattering way to sell it. Maybe I should’ve said you’re my sentry watching out for the monsters in the shadows.”

  “Well, sure, that’s a lot better. Thanks.”

  “I think you’re here to keep me on the path. Maybe to make sure I do what needs getting done.” He chewed his lip as he once again explored the dirt between them. After a bit, he said, “I have something to show you.”

  “Something to show me?”

  He stood up and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  The hand hovered there for a bit before she found the power to accept it. Finally, when it seemed there was no denying this terrifying request, she locked fingers with him and he guided her to her feet. Then he turned and led her back into the cave. He didn’t release her hand.

  The antechamber of the cave just off from the courtyard was determinedly different than the rooms further in. It was an anomaly that’d puzzled her since their arrival. This space was more organic, more cave-like. The floor was normal rough gravel, and the ceiling, though covered in crystal like everything else, was naturally jagged and chaotic.

  In the center of this part of the cave sat a circle of boulders that created a kind of nest around a tired fire pit. A few yellowing bones littered the edge of the long dead coals, the remains of some luckless hare by the looks of it. Considering that the entrance was camouflaged on the outside, it made no sense that the first chamber should be so misleading.

  He sat down on one of the tall boulders and crossed his leg. “This is where it began,” he said carefully.

  “How do you mean?” she whispered back. She hadn’t meant to say the words so softly. She wondered if maybe it was his tone playing her. Or maybe it was this queer sense of reverence she felt but couldn’t explain.

  “I spent the night here back after the incident at the waterfall.”

  The way he said ‘incident’ spoke of universal forgiveness. He said it the way an actor in a drama observes how the collective actions of each of them led them all to this point, like they were all simply playing the roles someone else had written for them, that the responsibility was universal and the blame belonged to none of them. Or to all of them.

  “The night I spent here was curious, even bizarre. I was pretty sure I was losing my mind the first time I heard the women. Then I thought I was dead, like they were the voices of the angels coming for me.”

  “Angels? That was an optimistic notion.”

  Beam laughed. “Fair enough. Demons, then.”

  He stood up. Then he reached down and took her hand again. He led her silently through the boulders and past the fire pit to the back wall, stopping before a particularly flat facet of crystal. Taking her by the shoulders he urged her in front of him so that she stood directly before it.

  The face looking back at her gave her a shock, though for completely different reasons than yesterday. This was her old face looking back, her young face, the face she hadn’t worn since before this misery began. The woman in this reflection was youthful and vigorous. Sometime during their night together, her health had been returned to her. Whether it’d been a gift from the cave or the company she’d kept through the night, she couldn’t say.

  She studied the long hair hanging loose and carefree over her shoulders. It was a look she hadn’t permitted herself in the many months since Pa’ana’s death. On that distant and unspeakable day, she’d locked her emotions into the forbidden box and committed herself wholly to the service of her people. Emotions and personal commitments would only bring her more pain.

  Her gaze rose up to the refection of Beam’s eyes watching her from over her shoulder in the crystal. “What are you doing?” she asked carefully.

  “Prave told me you’re the one.”

  Gooseflesh tickled her neck. The voices of the long dead women had told her the same thing, though at the time she’d been confused by the words. Hell, she still was.

  “He told me you’d save me, but he refused to explain it. I’ve tried to remember forward to the time when it might happen, but he’s blocked it from me for some selfish, pig-headed, bastardly reason of his own.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You’re changing.”

  “You said that already.”

  “I want to do for you what he did for me. I want to be your mentor in the practice of the God Caeyl.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m not a caeyl mage. I don’t even know any sleight of hand.”

  “No, you’re not a caeyl mage. You’re something much more powerful than that.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “You have more than Birthsight. You have the Truesight. You can believe it or deny it, but soon enough the gift will make itself undeniably clear. And trust me when I say that you’re better off being prepared for it when it does.”

  “Again, bullshit. I suspect the God Caeyl would affect anyone visiting this place. For Calina’s sake, it’s everywhere in here, it makes up everything. How could I not be influenced?”

  “You’re a pure descendant of his bloodline. I know you know that. You’re pure, not corrupted like I am.”

  She understood what he was saying, but still couldn’t wrap her head around the words. Even if something so ridiculous could possibly be true, she was immeasurably unworthy of it.

  “Would you like me to show you, skeptic?” he said, squeezing her shoulders.

  Again, words of argument eluded her. Instead, she simply shrugged and looked up at him in the crystal. “I suspect that wasn’t a question.”

  “Here inside this caeyl temple, your taer-cael is nearly limitless.”

  She turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at him, but he gently urged her back toward their mutual reflections. “That proves you’re wrong,” she said as she yielded to him, “I can’t see it. I lost Mawby’s trail after a mile or less.”

  “You just haven’t learned to use it.” He took her hand and placed it flat against the caeyl-face. “The caeyl is a tool. It doesn’t give you fantastic powers. Instead, it channels your natural abilities, amplifies them, helps you direct them.”

  He laid his hand atop hers and spread her fingers across the smooth caeyl. His touch felt strangely reassuring, as if when he touched her she became complete. He carefully urged her palm back from the crystal until only her fingertips touched it.

  “Think of Mawby,” he whispered.

  His warm breath brushed her cheek, and she felt herself blush for it. She turned slightly and looked at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Think about Mawby, Think about the way he looks, the way he smells, the way he feels when you hold him.”

  Though she didn’t fully understand what he wanted, she tried to do as he asked. She closed her eyes and focused on Mawby’s face.

  “No. Keep your eyes open. Focus on the caeyl shard, on your reflection, but think of your friend.”

  She nodded and did as he directed her. She looked into her own eyes reflecting back a
t her. Mawby’s image grew in her mind. She thought about his face and his soft eyes, about how gentle he could be despite his great size. She thought about the smell of his pipe and the sound of his laugh. She remembered their lifelong friendship. She focused on the love she felt for him.

  Soon her reflection dissolved into the crystal. The surface of the caeyl began to swirl ever so gently, like looking into a bowl of water that’s gently stirred as a ladle of milk is poured into it. The streaks of white and blue ran deep through the caeyl, and soon the spinning haze melted together until the caeyl facet was pure and white.

  “Keep thinking of him. Keep him in your mind. Remember him.”

  Almost immediately the caeyl changed. She saw shapes in it, like figures surfacing from the darker depths. The image gradually found clarity. It was like looking out through a winter window into a heavy snow, watching a lone figure walking through the white flurry. The image was dreamlike and colorless, though as she watched it, as Mawby walked nearer, the coarse grain melted into focus.

  Mawby led the Watcher’s horse along the edge of a mountain wall, hugging it as tightly as an old man hugs a banister on a steep stairway. He looked worried.

  “I see him,” she said, not taking her eyes from the image.

  “You’re seeing the truth. You’re seeing the real world, the world as it exists right now, in this very moment.”

  She nodded, but said nothing. She only watched the colorless image of Mawby making his way into the forest.

  “I want you to do something else now,” he whispered.

  She tipped her head toward him, but didn’t take her gaze from the image before her. “Yes?” she whispered.

  “I want you to remember forward.”

  The words bounced around in her mind. She couldn’t seem to reach them. They were obtuse and confusing. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “While you’re here in this temple, the power of your taer-cael exceeds the space-time limitations around you. The caeyls allow you to slip outside the boundaries of your own time, outside your own space. Time is like paper folded back on itself again and again. All memories are contained within it, though they’re hidden deep in the folds. If you nick a small slice in the surface of the fold, it cuts across all the surfaces folded within. You can remember everything in here, not only the now, not only then, but ahead as well. You only have to remember forward.”

  “It’s not possible.”

  “It is absolutely possible. It’s just a matter of allowing yourself to slip free of your body. You can probe anywhere you want from here. You can walk down the halls of Pentyrfal, even sit at the foot of Calina’s throne.”

  Her stomach felt unsettled, like a truth was about to be revealed, a truth as terrifying as death. “You’re making me uncomfortable,” she whispered.

  “Trust me, Koonta’ar.”

  “I… I do.”

  “Imagine your thoughts as a long pole you’re using to reach a ripe peach that’s well up beyond your reach. Move the pole out one hand at a time. Reach out into the world like you’re reaching up into a tree. See the fruit. See Mawby.”

  She envisioned Mawby riding further ahead. She pictured him as he’d be minutes later, then an hour later.

  The image clouded.

  She felt a shiver, like some spectral fingers had just stroked the palms of her feet. Her mind quickly filled with the taer-cael of Mawby walking through a camp, and in the same moment the picture in the caeyl displayed the details. He was bound at the wrists and led by his own horse, towed behind it by a rope tied around his neck.

  “My gods! They have him. He’s been captured.”

  “Don’t base your opinions on one image. Push your mind out further. Move ahead of what you see. This vision is simply one section of a folded paper. You have to push forward. You have to search for the truth.”

  His words reassured her. The image in the caeyl blushed again. Mawby was in an elaborate tent now. He stood before a large round table occupied by two men. Another person, a Vaemyd stood beside Mawby. Her face was the very picture of hate.

  “Where is he?” she asked.

  “He’s where he needs to be. Remember more.”

  Her mind pushed her taer-cael harder. Now Mawby was on his horse. He rode back along the little path. And riding in single file behind him were the men and the Vaemyd from the tent, and one other she couldn’t identify.

  “He’s found them,” Beam said behind her, “He’s with the pirate brothers, the Farks. He’s leading them here. Now turn your taer-cael to the south.”

  “What?”

  “Move your thoughts south. Stay in the same time, but push your mind into the southern forest. Tell me what you see there.”

  She watched the image of Mawby fade back into the snow as she considered what Beam had asked her to do. The simple desire to fulfill his request was now enough to make it happen. Her mind loped across the southern slope, soared over the dense trees of Na te’Tula. An instant later, she suffered a sense of spiders, of hands and feet scrabbling against the forest floor and creeping up the rock. Something swarmed up the side of the mountain. It looked like a river of insects flowing over and through the rocks.

  Then the image coalesced into absolute and terrifying form. They weren’t insects at all. They were Vaemysh warriors. There were thousands upon thousands of them. They climbed the southern slope in a northward march, moving up the mountain on all fours like ants pouring over a corpse.

  She willed herself away from the image. She felt herself rise up above the forest. She saw the trees and troops shrinking below her as if she rode on the wings of an eagle. More warriors followed directly behind this first wave, thousands more marching in formations that wound back through the forest for miles. They ambled forward with empty eyes and sullen faces, driven on by their wyrlaerd leaders. They were hacks. They were all hacks!

  Koonta reeled away from the images and fell into Beam. “That’s enough! I don’t want to see anymore.”

  “You’re looking at the truth.”

  “I can’t! Not now. Not yet.”

  “You don’t have a choice, Koonta. This is the truth.”

  “Why are you making me do this?”

  Beam said nothing.

  She pushed herself back from him and looked into his face, but his eyes had gone cold. Something wasn’t right. She pushed her way into his mind, into his thoughts, and there found the truth. This wasn’t what he wanted at all. He wasn’t trying to help her. He was trying to get her to help him.

  What are you really after? she pressed into him.

  I’m only looking after your wellbeing. You need to know what’s coming. You need to understand it.

  Why? I know enough. I know what I need to do.

  You know nothing. You need to go to it, to see it. You need to understand it. You need to see the end of the game. You need to see the details.

  She pushed her thoughts back into him, but he now had her blocked. She tried again, but the effort was useless. He was more powerful than she. There was no way in.

  “Why are you asking me to do this?” she said, “What are you looking for? What is it you really want?”

  He blanched at her words. He looked like he’d been caught with his hands in the priory coffers.

  “Tell me the truth, Beam. You can tell me anything now. What are you looking for?”

  “There’s something I need from you.”

  “What?”

  “I need you to remember for me.”

  “What?”

  “I need your taer-cael. I need you to remember forward for me. I need you to show me how this all ends.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d heard him right. “You? Why do I have to remember forward for you?”

  “Because.”

  “Because? What are you, a toddler? I need more than ‘because’. Why do I have to remember forward for you? You have to tell me.”

  “Because I can’t.”

  The fear in his voice was as ob
vious as his nose. He was absolutely terrified. “You can’t?” she said carefully, “Or you’re afraid to?”

  He stared at her for a moment too long. She could practically smell his panic. “Because… because I can’t. I can’t find it. I can’t remember forward to the outcome.”

  “You’re the vessel of the Father. Why can’t you remember?”

  Beam slammed his fist against the crystal. “Because that bastard Prave didn’t give me everything! Because he withheld some of my memories. He’s left me blind and helpless. He blocked me from seeing it!”

  “Blocked you?”

  “I need to see it. You understand that, don’t you? How can I find victory at the end when I don’t know what’s coming?”

  “Why would he do that? Why would he keep that from you.”

  “Because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “He said he gave me you instead.”

  For a moment, she could only look at him as she tried to make sense of the words. “I don’t know what that means. I don’t understand.”

  “Damn me, I don’t give a whit whether you understand it or not. I just need you to do this for me and stop asking questions. You owe me that much.”

  His anger startled her. She thought about his gentleness of the last hours, of their tender night together, and she wondered if it’d only been a ruse. Maybe he’d just been preparing her, softening her to do his bidding. It’d be just like him, wouldn’t it? Just like the old rogue with his selfish ways? To take advantage of anyone and everyone at every opportunity?

  But even as she considered it, she didn’t believe it. This man had the powers of a lesser god. He could practically raise the dead. He’d been charged with keeping the world from sinking into a mire of war and despair and enslavement. So why were his memories blocked? Why was this singular path, the path of his own fate, blocked from his all-knowing eyes?

  Beam looked at her like he was lost, and in that singular moment she understood precisely why the Father had blocked these memories. Prave didn’t want Beam to know the details of the end. Beam shouldn’t know. He couldn’t know. Whatever waited for them at the end of this miserable journey, the key to his success lay in surprise. Knowing ahead would compromise him at the critical moment. Knowing would make him weak.