A Dyad in Time

by D. D. Prideaux

  “It is time.” She whispered to herself, looking ahead and confidently planting one foot in front of the other. “React to the now.” Cleric Augustine’s wise words flowing out of nowhere.

  * * *

  Nothing happened when they reached the edge of the void. The same leafy pathway marked by huge trees continued on into the distance. A long tunnel of orange and brown marking their passage towards their destination. Most wytches would’ve feared going into a place where they’d be powerless, but Rosalind had no fear of this place. Her book had spoken to her of ways to overcome the null-magik spaces. Untold centuries of secrets to be laid bare for her to read and understand. Sahld’veba itself was protected by the gargantuan void and allowed magiks within its walls, but until then, no wytch or wyzard could cast. Except her. Starting with the Archfiend and moving slowly between each of her Detka, she drew a small symbol on their purple flesh, uttering a few protective words as she went. The loose spiral with a cross through the middle of it glittered each time she finished, and she knew the magiks keeping them on this plane would hold. Stroking Kane and Abel's heads lightly, she moved to white collar and performed a similar procedure on the collar. Can’t have our guests getting away now, can we? One tried though. The incantation she performed caused the collars to weaken momentarily whilst they found their place on this plane, disappearing entirely in a few cases. Another suit tried to run, sensing his moment, but countless evenings spent drinking, doing drugs and paying for attention had made him slow. Running back down the path they’d come from, joy and fear spread across his face just like the previous escapee’s. A split second of heat followed. All thirteen collars had anchored themselves in this plane before he could get away and one did its job. Two dull thuds the result. Sad, Rosalind thought that twelve would still be enough, their bones the key to her spell.

  Dispassionately, she started walking again, finding renewed satisfaction in the rustling of their feet, the quiet of her mind, the peace of the void. A peace that was interrupted by another rustling from their side. She gestured to Adam and Eve who made their way completely silently to either side of the noise. Eve’s Naïve arm developed spiny, sharp, protrusions made of bone, covered in blood and lethal poison. Menacing. From her purple hand, a vicious blade grew, long and deadly it hung loosely in her hand ready to strike. Simultaneously, Adam’s entire body hardened, and his purple arm morphed into a shield six foot tall, plain and immovable. From his Naïve arm, a long piece of sharp, hardened bone shot out past his hand. Wicked and ominous, it was about three feet long, wet with red. All three waited, sword and shield ready to fight. The rustling continued and then, oblivious to the danger, a bear cub walked out of the bushes, hair matted and patchy.

  Reading her thoughts, Adam and Eve turned back to their normal shapes, Naïve arms covered in blood but not damaged, and returned to stand behind the Archfiend. The bear sniffed at the air, looked around at the strange group and saw Rosalind on her knees. She’d placed the book to her side, feeling a little lighter for doing so and held out a hand. She looked the small, furry creature in the eyes with recognition and love. Slowly, gingerly the bear dragged itself towards her, limping with an injured leg. His nose touched her knuckles and then he moved past her hand, letting it scrape against the side of his head, enjoying the contact. When he was close enough, Rosalind placed her other hand on the other side of his face, closed her eyes and touched their foreheads together. The bear cub closed his eyes too, then drifted off to sleep. She lifted the injured animal from where it lay and passed it to the Archfiend, their fur touching, their warmth shared, their essences joining as the sun began to set in the distance.

  Naïve eyes watched this act of kindness with awe, unsure how they should feel. Deepening their madness, they then watched as this evil woman cleaned the bear cub, healed his wounds and fed him, playing with his head and scratching his fur when he woke. She looked fascinated by his fur, like she’d always felt it against her skin, but hadn’t done so for a long time. They’d seen her kill without mercy in the city, they had seen what the collars she put on them, did. They’d seen and feared her companions, disgusting lifeforms that filled their stomachs will bile and their minds with dread. The same companions that’d built a camp for them, found and cooked them food on a fire she made out of thin air. Maybe they’d be okay. Maybe they’d make it. Twenty Naïve eyes shut and fell into dreamless sleeps that night. Four stayed open as they walked away from the camp holding hands. Rosalind was sad to find the young couple in the morning, heads separated from their bodies by the collars, their souls unseparated by their love. She respected their sacrifice and knew what it was like to feel that way, yearning to experience again for herself.

  * * *

  The next day and night passed without event. They walked. They made camp. They ate. They slept. The bear cub padded along obediently at Rosalind's side occasionally reaching up to sniff the book his new mother was carrying. The Archfiend was always vigilant, watching everything from the other side of her. The Detka marched along, the Naïves keeping pace, Kane and Abel’s unprompted noises from their body changes the other constant sound as they went on. If they wanted, they could’ve walked through the night to get to Sahld’veba faster, but Rosalind didn’t want that. She wanted more time with her Detka and Dante. How’d that name come to be? She looked across at her Archfiend, smiling. It seemed that some of the kindness of that stranger in the alley had survived the change, Dante and the bear cub enjoying their moments as much as she enjoyed hers with the furry creature she’d rescued. She had her family with her. She even had a pet, she mused, as she looked to her side. Now all she needed was Christophe.

  “In time.” She said to herself warmly. “In time.”

  When the Naïves woke that morning, the arranged themselves in the same way they had the last two days. White collar making them move, the entire column of bodies progressing relentlessly. Eventually they came to some train tracks, heavily overgrown and lost to time, unused by Lucidfolk or beast in years. Nearly there she smiled, following the rails around a long corner. Not long after, the trees began to disappear, and large walls sprung up either side of the tracks. Decorative arches were carved into them, covered by green after years of being lost to the worlds. Small trees grew out of broken parts of the walls, large ones growing atop them that let shafts of bright sunshine penetrate to the ground. Dust, insects and flecks of forest danced in the light, mesmerising and beautiful. She looked to where the walls led, and they converged on a tunnel. Dark, ominous and with long ferns growing down in front of the entrance she smiled. A loose spiral with a cross through the middle was set into the stone above the entrance, untouched by plants. Looking at it the book in her arm warmed, vibrating slightly and excitedly whispering to her. The symbol on its spine pulsed in time with the one etched in stone and she felt like she was home.

  She turned to face her family, smile still broad on her face. That tunnel leads to a secret chamber that The Barren Sun used to birth her magiks. It would be infused with her, each brick carrying her memory even in her death. To do what was needed, she’d need to power of the place, the book congratulating her on her strength at finding its home. When she reached its centre, she played through what she would do in her head. Timing of sacrifices was key, the spell ebbing and flowing and only accepting Naïve blood at the right moment, binding the magik to their worlds. Each one of the Naïves bones creating a new crossing point between their worlds. If she had longer she would’ve taken more hostages, but these seeds of turmoil would be enough for now. She thought about what kind of anarchy 2,000 new crossing points could cause, thinking that the level of chaos would be made worse if she could focus them in major, well known and heavily populated areas. Butterflies lurched and danced in her stomach as she realised they were more than just seeds. They’d be the centre of the revolution. Her revolution. When the worlds are then on their knees, begging for order, she’d be there. The book’s whispering became louder and through the difficult, ghostly
noises came words as clear as she’d ever heard. “You will be loved”.

  * * *

  “She wants anarchy, Isabella.” Dreeoth’s message on the bench had been received and he was now stood, facing his handler within The Protectorate.

  “She thinks I know nothing, but Christophe and I are closer than she realises. He has told me enough and I have heard enough to know her plans. She wants to tie The Protectorate up in knots whilst you try and close the crossing points. She wants to destroy The Balance in the turmoil and then take control of both worlds.” He was delivering his report smartly, covering all the events since Rosalind had invaded their lives and watching Trøst as he delivered each blow.

  “My master is… Confused, Isabella. I need assurances from you that he won’t be too heavily punished for this. He is conflicted. He is a good man.” He was pleading with her, not his proudest moment, but he’d suffered worse.

  “Not according to the file we have on him.” She said curtly. “He’s also going about pretending to be her, you say? Trying to throw us off her true intent?” Isabella seemed worried.

  “Yes, but he is not himself. It is like he is under a spell. He does not eat, he barely sleeps. He walks about as if shrouded in a fog.” Dreeoth delivered his words as passionately as possible, hoping his handler would be able to show some empathy.

  “Still, we’ll let the courts decide his fate and I’ll make sure you’re heard in his defence. That’s the best I can offer you.” Dreeoth nodded, thinking that was the best deal he would get concerning his master's future.

  “Where is she really going then?” Isabella asked, focusing her mind.

  “A place called Sahld’veba.”

  “Never heard of it.” She lied, remembering a secret story she was told and her conversation with Eve, about where The Barren Sun died. “Besides, we can handle the crossing points. It’ll be hard and integration with the Naïve’s will be difficult, considering The Protectorate’s agenda, but we’re united. We’ll survive.”

  Dreeoth looked darkly at Isabella, face worried and full of warning. “She wants to be seen as a saviour.” Isabella looked at Dreeoth, fearing where he was headed.

  “She knows that the crossing points are not enough to destabilise you and the order. She needs more to disrupt all of you and bring about the future she desires.” He swallowed hard, Isabella willing him to get to the point, her red cloak as still as her halted breath. “She never told Christophe – I think she was trying to protect him somehow – but she found the original breach resulted in The Nameless coming to save us. She knows how to, and will, release The Reapers.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE - NEW FRIENDS

  There was complete stillness in the training square as everyone watched Eve and Tor. What was a rumbling, toiling, swaying sea at storm a few minutes before, was now glassy flat, the horizon distant and untouchable. Mo was taking the scene in, pleased to see the Dyad that never was, reunited. Happy that the two had found each other from across time even, if it meant The Last Word was free. Khar’s heart swelled, thinking of the sacrifice they’d made and couldn’t help his mind from turning to K'Chool who was smiling. Xiang had completely dropped his guard, thankful that the fighting had ceased for now, his thoughts turning to Zou. Gerard held his ribs and dropped his head, drawing strength from thoughts of Isabella and the time they had together. Each of them let themselves drift into the space where they could feel love and the person who embodied it for them.

  Mo placed his hands back in his sleeves, as serene at ease as he was fighting. He caught Tor looking at him, wet face from tears that wouldn’t stop, and he flicked his eyes towards Eve. They said, go to her, but Tor was immovable. Mo turned to look at Eve who was also looking at him, face just as damp, eyes just as yearning. Even after all these years apart they still respected the old cleric. Lifetimes had kept them separate, each of them wanting to be whole and not knowing how, yet they stood, waiting for permission. Mo’s face had always been a vibrant, expressive one seeming to get richer with age and he betrayed what he thought now with an exaggerated rolling of the eyes, before nodding his head towards Tor.

  After he’d given his okay, they didn’t run when they finally had the old Sojeladhan’s blessing. They calmly walked towards the centre of the training square, ignoring everyone else around them, savouring every step and taking in every inch of each other. Their eyes were flitting ever so slightly side to side as they got closer, willing their stories and emotions onto each other from the years of wilderness they both experienced. The intensity between them was almost oppressive to the small audience of their reunion, Khar swearing he felt magik crackling as they neared each other. He imagined forks of lightning sparking out of their chests, meeting the energy of the other and backing off, tentative and testing whether the other was really there. He liked the idea of the magiks examining what they were seeing, unbelieving at first, before realising they’d finally found their other half. The tense, unsure sparks ceased, and the tips of the crackling electricity finally fused, to bind them ever closer together.

  Mo marvelled at the two of them as they embraced, almost blinded by the magiks rippling around them, fizzing and hissing with delight at finding their Dyad once again. There was something in the new energy he saw between them. It was fiercer and more focused than before. Maybe The Archive was right about them, or more accurately, one of the books The Archive had memorised was right about them. He looked across at Kahr, who’s face told him that he maybe saw the invisible magiks around them swirling and tightening with love. He’d grown in the time since the meeting with Obed and he thanked Surelikai for blessing the Fledgling with many years of blissful ignorance before having to shoulder a great burden. His time was coming, yet part of him wished it never would.

  K'Chool watched as Tor and Eve parted to touch foreheads with closed eyes. Such tenderness and history in that delicate moment, feelings of her own longing swelling up in her chest. She could swear she saw a faint light emanating from them but dismissed it as a trick of the sun, so she could just enjoy the beauty of the moment.

  Tor had finally stopped crying, the feel of Eve’s body returning memories of safety, warmth and belonging. As far as he was concerned, no one else existed right then, just her and the familiar feel of her pressed close to him. A few tears still ran from Eve’s eyes, uncaring at the joy of the reunion expressed in the tracks they left behind on her cheeks. She took in how he felt, how he moved, how he smelled, and she smiled. Sensing another's presence though, Eve opened her eyes to see a large matte-black mass of goo standing tall right next to them. It was in the shape of Tor and was kind of leaning in to touch foreheads with them, rippling with nervousness at invading the intimate moment. She recognised him in body and spirit, endeared by the gold sliver of light that floated to the black surface every now and then. She found she was staring into Tor’s eyes, both of them trying to tell each other so much with just a look, wanting the moment to never end. She smiled again, laughing a little as the newcomer to their relationship finally leaned forward, deciding that touching foreheads was the only course of action open to it.

  “I like him.” She said finally, the first words said to her love in countless years being about another man, or non-man, to be more precise.

  “Me too. Got me out of a bind more than once when I was The Protectorate’s prisoner.” Tor wanted to go into detail about the rooms but knew it wasn’t the time just yet. Wading into his ordeals, what The Protectorate were doing, the fact that they used a pilgrim door to force ascensions, Necromancy etc., were stories that could wait for now.

  “What is it?” Eve whispered with a slight concern in her eyes.

  Tor laughed at her read on him. Lifetimes apart hadn’t changed how well they knew each other. Being together as a Dyad and as lovers had brought them unimaginably close, understanding each other better than themselves more often than not.

  “Later. You being you, means that she, is out, so I can assume we need to stop her again.” He was
searching her with his eyes, seeing if any traces of the evil they imprisoned were there. Nothing.

  She nodded, heavy with meaning before looking over at Gerard. “You must be Elias.”

  Enyo and Eris exchanged a look, knowing he didn’t like to be called that. Fortune made to help Gerard as he started to falter with the pain in his ribs and the knife wound in his back. The pain of being caught by the large Sløv was short-lived as his brain started working. How did she know my name? He worked over how it felt to be called that by a complete stranger. He thought it would feel wrong, that it would taste funny, yet it actually felt kind and warming. She walked over to him, the rest of the party having stepped through the window and Gerard weakly clicking his fingers to close it.

  “May I?” She was looking at Fortune, asking if it was okay to take a look at his master. A slow nod encouraged her to move closer.

  “Isabella told me about you. I wanted to hate you, but she wouldn’t let me. She says you are a good man.” Gerard hadn’t cried since he left Isabella all those years ago. Dirt and blood were cleared away from his cheeks by the slow progression of tears working their way down his face at the mountain of emotions that had built up in him. No one had every spoken to him directly about his past love and the kindness of this woman caught him by surprise. Eve placed her hands on the perimeter of the ribs, leaned close and closed her eyes. Her cheek was near the worst pain when she asked Gerard to tell her about Isabella. He talked for the first time about her in a long time and Eve listened, concentrating. Words flowed easily, hands glowed white and whispers of healing magik bound themselves to his broken body. Slowly, the pain lessened. Slowly her hands moved and slowly she pulled away, praying towards him and uttering some final incantations. Gerard could feel warmth spreading through him and was grateful for some of the pain to have dissipated. He coughed up a small amount of blood and Eve moved around to his back, once again, asking Fortune for permission to help. He and Gerard shared a silent agreement and Eve went to work again, asking Gerard to share more memories of her best friend as she healed his wound.