by G. Deyke
~*~
We leave for the gate as soon as the fever has left Therrin and she has regained her strength. Karr will not fit through the little hole high above us – he tells us that the temple was rebuilt around him as he slept – that is why there are some smooth places in the walls without carvings – so he tears apart the temple with his mighty claws to escape it. It crumbles easily. If not for his long sleep, it could never have held him.
Therrin and Ty and I stand outside on the stone plain and watch as the temple is destroyed. I whistle to Snake, sorry that it must be lost. It was all that the stone plain still had.
“Perhaps life will return here, now that the spell is broken,” Therrin says. I hope she is right – I hope we have done more good than harm to this place. The people feared Karr, I remember. They prayed that he would never rise from his prison.
They prayed in vain.
We clamber onto the dragon's back, so he may carry us back. My boots slip against his scales, but I climb carefully and at last I am sitting astride him, clinging to the thick bone-white spine before me. Its point presses gently into my stomach, so that I fear I may be impaled if I lean too far forward in flight, but it is good to have something to hold.
Therrin sits before me and Ty behind. The curse begins to follow us, but Karr thumps his tail against the ground and steps aside. “You may not ride me, Curse that you are,” he says. “If you are tied to Arrek as I suspect, you will find your own way to fly.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I am grateful. “Thank you,” I murmur beneath my breath. I do not know if he hears me.
The curse does follow as we fly, drifting through the air as it did through the water – but it is only a small black thing, and Karr is wild and strong beneath me, and I am safe here. It cannot reach me, however near it may be.
He flies fast, beating back the air with his powerful wings. The stone plain drops away quickly beneath us. I have never liked heights, but I like them better now than astride the bone-hawk – if only because I cannot see the ground between his ribs when I look down – and the dragon is a welcome warmth against the bitter wind and icy rain, so I am glad to be near him, even this far from the ground.
The stone plain is nothing but even grayness beneath us, but Karr flies with purpose. He has no need of the curse's guidance, nor of any maps. He knows the way to the gate.
“We must go straight to the cavern to free the others,” Therrin says. “We have dallied long enough.”
“No,” says Karr. “First we visit Ioranne. She has done much for us, and we have but little time to reward her.”
“Who is Ioranne?” asks Ty.
“Ioranne is the name that once belonged to the woman you call the woodland witch.”
“And why have we so little time?”
“Now that she has done her duty, her life runs very short.”
When night comes we rest beneath Karr's wing, sheltered from the frozen wind and rain. It is warm and safe and the black shadow is outside his wing where I cannot see it. It cannot watch me and I must not remember it.
But sometimes the memories flit through my mind, all the same.
It is a much shorter journey than when we came to the temple: Karr flies very quickly, and we walked slowly, checked by Therrin's illness as we were. So it seems a very short while before we leave the stone plain behind us.
When the ocean is beneath us Karr dives close to the waves and opens his maw, swallowing a large mouthful of water and fish. I wonder if it is hunger or thirst that he is sating, or if he is diving only for the joy of it. My stomach drops with the swoop, but Therrin giggles delightedly at the feeling of flight and of sea spray on our ankles; even with his belly skimming the waves the spray reaches no higher. We are safe here on his back, safe from everything, untouchable, protected. Maybe it will be better this time, that other world. It was broken because the dragons were missing, but now I am always near to one. Maybe he will keep me safe from the grayness and the strangeness and the deadness in my mind. Maybe, maybe it will be all right.
I watch the dragon's wake in the water below as he rises again, holding tightly to the spine before me for fear I might fall. I watch the disturbed waves scatter and reform. I watch the sleet hitting the water. My stomach turns – it is so far away, so far below me! – but a part of me delights in this swimming in my head. If I am too dizzy to think at all, I know I shan't remember.
“How wilt thou fit through the gate?” Therrin asks at last. The thought had crossed my mind before, but I said nothing. Karr passed through the gate once before. It must be possible.
“My kind has always found it easier to pass between worlds,” he replies. “The gate was built for true mortals. I must only be in the right place to shift.”
At long last I see the path before us, surrounded on all sides by water, and the gate at its summit. And there, beyond it, where we might never have seen it had we approached by boat, I see a ship very much like Ler's.
“What is that ship?” I ask, surprised by it.
Ty peers around my shoulder. “Is there a ship?” he asks. “I cannot see in this rain. What color have its sails?”
“Red,” I answer.
“That does not bode well,” he says. “That ship ought to be in Saluyah at this time of year – although perhaps they've changed their route. Still, there is nothing here except the gate. Someone must have paid for passage here.”
My throat tightens. No. I will not think of it. That cannot be. It must be some stranger who heard of the legend by chance and wished to see this other world (though the witch said we were only the second to come through in many years, and the first were Therrin's mother and father). Or perhaps the red ship was blown off course by a storm (though we are far from all land, and the gate is suspiciously near). It could be anything, anything at all.
For now, Karr seems to pay it no heed. He flies to the gate, and as we pass above it I can feel the lightning in my veins – but only briefly, and I see no darkness – and then we are through, easily and quickly. We are surrounded by warm summer and the fairies dance around us, singing their joy. “At last you've returned! At last we can be restored! At last we may let the years take hold of this gate!”
Before my eyes, the summer vanishes – and comes again – and again – and again. The trees wither and die and new ones sprout from the ground, unfurling their bright new leaves. A thousand years come and go within the span of a minute, and now it is cold here, and the flowers of summer are all dead, and the grass – still greener than that outside this circle – is touched by frost.
This world no longer seems quite as broken, now that Karr is here. It is recovering. The other dragons must still be freed, and quickly, but it will grow and live and recover from this bane. I can breathe this air more easily now, and my nature sense is neither overwhelmed nor deadened. It must be all because Karr is so near.
We bid the fairies farewell and fly straight for the witch, as Karr said we must. As we land before her little cottage she runs out to meet us, her aged face creased with worry.
“You've returned! At last!” she cries. “You must fly to the cavern, quickly, quickly! But I am glad you've stopped here – quickly – there is something I must tell you. Come here, Therrin, Arrek, Ty. Come here.” She speaks our names gently, as though they were precious and delicate. Poor Ioranne, left without a name for a thousand years! It is no wonder that ours should seem precious to her.
“Come here,” she says impatiently as we slide down Karr's back. “Come, hold my hands – hold hands now – I must show you something. There is no time to explain – I must show you.” She takes Therrin's hand and Ty's, and they each reach for one of mine, so that we form a circle.
“Close your eyes,” she says. “Karr, you'll see this memory through Therrin, yes? I needn't show you?”
“Yes,” he says.
I have closed my blind eye but I cannot stop my demon seeing. The woman's urgent air is catching, and I am afraid that we have no tim
e, that we are too late after all. And now that I am hurried, I am afraid of the witch as well, afraid of this circle, afraid of whatever she will show us – more because I do not know how she will show it to us than because I fear the vision itself.
My question is quickly answered as she shuts her eyes and mumbles beneath her breath, and then, suddenly –
It was two days after the fairies told me that the Princess had left these lands with all three treasures, and was on her way to rescue Karr. They came to me again, and called inside my mind: “We have more strangers – from the other world. There are many of them, this time.”
“I am coming,” I answered, and added to my soup a pinch of the herb that was still, after all this time, real. Then I steeled myself against the bitter chill outside and went to greet them.
There must have been twenty of them at least, all of them riding strange black horses – with tails like lions' and horns pointing back toward their riders – in full barding. They were led by a richly dressed girl of about fifteen years, whose shape I knew at once as the girl called Curse, though she was alive, and full of color.
(I try to fight it. I try to flail about, I try to whistle to Snake, I try to scream. I have no limbs to flail with. I have no lips to purse. I have no voice to scream.
I have no thoughts to ward it off. I can feel my panic, my repulsion, my hatred, my fear; but only through a thick layer of feelings I have no reason to have – surprise, interest, the aching in my old joints. These are my feelings. The rising panic beneath is nothing.
I try to scream but I cannot hear myself.)
I greeted the group and asked them who they were. They didn't understand me, of course; so I fetched a bowl of my soup and offered it to the girl who seemed to be their leader. She eyed me with distrust and gave it to one of the men beside her. He ate.
“Greetings,” I tried again.
He yelled something I couldn't understand, surprised, and gave the bowl back to his leader. Soon all the group had eaten a bite of my soup, and all could understand me. Again, I greeted them and asked them who they were.
“I am Melianarrheyal of House Lithuk,” said the girl. “I'm looking for someone.”
“House Lithuk?” I remembered that name – it was the Princess's. She was Therrin Shiaran of House Lithuk, and hers was the first name I had heard in a thousand years.
“Yes – have you heard the name before?”
I told her about Princess Therrin and her companions: the tall dark swordsman with the contemptuous smile, the quiet frightened boy with the glowing eye, and the black shadow-girl who looked just like her. She listened with interest, and when I'd finished she said: “I must find them. When did you see them? Whither did they go?”
“Who are you to ask?”
“I am Therrin's sister. I must be sure she's safe. Whither did she go?”
When I refused to tell her, she asked me why not; and before I knew what was happening, I was telling her everything. I could feel a spell on me, making me tell the truth, and couldn't resist it. So I told her about the dragons, and the bane on this world, and the treasures, and whither the Princess had gone, and whither she was headed next. By the time I could control my words again, my cauldron of soup was divided between two of her servants – one of whom was to ride toward the necromancer, and the other toward the lake – who were to verify my story, and feed the soup to anyone they met on the way who couldn't understand them, the better to question them. And the girl herself, and the rest of her group, were riding hard toward the cavern.
(I am still trying to scream, to fight, to escape. I have no throat to scream, but now – it is real, I am screaming. I am screaming.)
My throat is raw from shouting. My face is wet with tears. I am sitting now, almost lying, but my hands are still held by Ty and Therrin, who somehow kept hold of me – though I hit them both, by the look of their bruises. Their fingers dig sharply into my wrists at first, but they drop me quickly when they become aware of themselves. I clutch my sore arms to my chest, to my head. I let out a low moan – it hurts, it hurts through my throat. But I cannot keep silent. I cannot bear this. I am still weeping, my blind eye shut tightly but spilling hot tears. I hurt and the hurt is not enough to cleanse my mind. It will not end. I can still think, I can still remember. I can taste the revulsion, the horror. I can see her still in my mind as though I looked her full in the face. I saw her. I saw her and I heard her. I can't blot the memory from my mind. I can't. I can't.
I can't breathe anymore. I can't stop breathing. The breaths come short and fast and without air, scraping painfully against my wounded throat, and my chest feels liquid and I am tingling, in my lips, and in my nose, and then all around my mouth and my cheeks and my chin and my neck. And my fingers, my toes, my hands and legs and arms. My head is spinning. There is black on the edge of my vision, where my mind cannot see despite the demon that cannot be fooled by tricks of light. I can feel the air in the bellows of my lungs, pressed out almost before it flows in. I can't stop. I can't. I can't stop it. I try to stop it – no – if I keep breathing like this, if I cannot stop, I know I will swoon – I can't. I try to hold in my breath but it bursts out. I try to slow it but I cannot. I try to loosen my grip – my right hand is clutching my left wrist – Snake, my left hand is so white – so white – bloodless, dead – I cannot let go. I will die like this. I will die. I cannot stop myself. My heart is drumming, so fast, I can feel it, I can feel it a steady throbbing through which I can hardly feel the beats, too fast, it is too fast. I try to whistle but I cannot, I cannot stop the breaths that shoot through me, I cannot purse my lips.
I can see, flashes. I cannot heed the things around me. Single images work through to me, the ashen moss that hangs above the cottage, the twitch of Karr's tail, the shape of the ground two hands' lengths from the witch's right foot. They burn into my mind, into my memory. They burn into me. I cannot close my demon-eye, I cannot stop glancing around, wildly, shifting my gaze from one thing I cannot perceive to another. My eye turns to the sky – do I see it? I cannot even know – and I try to fall, to crouch, to curl up, to stay near the ground, the safety and the sanctity and the shelter of the earth. Gods, protect me. Gods. Snake. Snake, Snake, I cannot whistle, I cannot. Snake, save me. Snake, save me, help me, Snake, empty my mind, empty my memory, change what happened. Snake, my hand, white as dead flesh, let me let it go. Let me feed it rushing blood. I cannot move my fingers, I cannot. I cannot move. I cannot stop it. I cannot make it better. I cannot burn the memory.
Therrin is moving ahead of me, moving. Slower and then faster, slower, faster. All the world. Therrin, Ty, Karr, the witch, the odious black shadow, gods, Snake, all ye gods, it is still there, make it burn, make it die! Faster and slower, the world, time, it will not stay the same. It will not hold still.
“Arrek? Arrek! Are you –” No, don't speak to me! I cannot respond, I cannot even listen! My stomach twists as though I might vomit and I don't know what to do, I cannot leave their questions but I cannot speak, I cannot. The breaths quick and sharp cannot be used for words. I can say nothing. My blood is burning. I cannot slow my breaths. I cannot cleanse my mind. She is there, she is there in my mind and she will not leave, she will not disappear, she is there.
Someone is prising my clenched fingers from my deadened wrist, and someone's hand is on my shoulder, heavy and calming but not enough. I brush it off. I cannot heed their words. I cannot heed them when they call my name. I cannot. I surge to my feet – I almost fall – I totter away, away. I cannot even see the gray trees until I almost run into them but I keep walking, running, my legs almost buckling with every step, and always it goes faster and then slower, slower, faster, I don't know where my foot will land, I don't know when, I don't know if it will stay beneath me. I flee them. I flee into the dead broken gray wood – I flee them, I flee her, I flee the sight of her which Ioranne put into my mind, I could not look away, I could not look away, I cannot think of it, I cannot. I flee until my knees cease to sup
port me.
They give and I fall.
I lie flat against the dusty cold ground. I fall into the cold and I breathe and at last it passes out of me and I slow. The cold is all around me and it freezes and calms me. My breaths slow and quiet until I am hardly breathing at all.
For a long while, I lie still. The fire in my lungs and in my mind has burnt out. I can no longer think or feel or weep or breathe.
My fingers are cold. The tingling has given way to liquid numbness. My back is itching with sweat, but I cannot bring myself to remove my coat.
I cannot bring myself to move at all.
It is Ty who finds me at last. “I have him!” he shouts loudly to the others, and lifts me in his arms, and carries me back to the cottage. Karr bites at my coat gently – as though I were a kitten – to lift me onto his back, where I sit between two of his spines, too weak to say a word, too weak to sit upright.
Therrin returns from another direction. They must have both been searching for me. She begins to say something, but she quiets when she sees my weakness now that the fit has passed.
I am slumped over the spine before me, wishing I could lie down, unable to hold on.
They are speaking, quietly. I cannot grasp their words. I cannot bring myself to care. A long time they speak.
Only when Karr speaks do I listen: “We thank you for the warning, but that was not why we came here. We came because you have done much for us, and for this world. For that, you deserve some recompense.
“First: your name was once Ioranne.”
“Ioranne,” repeats the old woman. “Ioranne. Yes, I remember now.” Her eyes have filled with tears, and she grins a toothless smile. Her face folds into its creases. “I am Ioranne. Thank you.”
“Second: your time is over. Even if we fly straight to the cavern and free the others without difficulty, you will have faded before we have a chance to save you. Thus I have come to bring you the final gift.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, weeping openly. “Thank you.” He lowers his head and she reaches for him, embracing his nose, and then I feel her life fading, and then she is gone. Her lifeless body falls to the ground, a thousand years too old.
Now Therrin and Ty clamber onto the dragon's back, before and behind me, and we fly on. When I begin to fall, Ty steadies me; but we do not speak.