by D. H. Dunn
“Tell me your problems,” she said. “Take a step.”
The Thread drew in a deep breath, Upala’s dark hair moving slightly towards the great beast as he did so.
“Very well.” The tone of his thin voice was still mixed, guarded. “There are short term concerns. The Worm is injured, and afraid. I must locate him. I must also attend to the Weight’s remains, to see that in death he is at least treated with the proper honor.”
One of those casualties had come at the hands of Terminus, but it had been Drew that injured the Weight. And together they had killed the Voice.
“We have lost so much.” The Thread’s eyes closed as he hung his head. His voice was soft, and broken. “When we had so little to lose.”
“I am truly sorry.” Upala’s mind cast back to the last image she could recall of the Voice, the beast twisting to see the wall of snow coming at them both. “I am sorry about the Voice and Terminus. Given their deeds, there are those who would not understand your loss, but I mourn for my brother.”
“Yes,” the Thread said. “This is a common ground between us. Alas, there was no help for my sister’s madness. Only Terminus seemed to be able to control her. As for Terminus himself, he and I … we did not desire the same outcomes.”
“Yet you returned with other Dragons,” Upala asked. “How did you free them? How did you access the Vaults without the Hero’s armor to open them?”
The Thread nodded, gazing off into the dark mountains. Upala wondered if he were looking in the direction of the other Vaults, or if he even knew where they were.”
“I had an arrangement with Orami,” he said. “As part of this, all Vaults will recognize my presence. I do not require the Hero’s armor for entrance.”
She sighed. The Dragons should be able to free themselves, even if the idea might bring back the fears of her childhood. Like many things she had been afraid of in her life, the real Dragons had been more complicated than the monster the little girl inside her was afraid of.
The Thread cared as much for his kind as Merin had for her children. He deserved to know all that she did, and then he would decide what to do with that knowledge.
She took a deep breath.
“There is another if your kind,” she said.
“A fifteenth Fear. Forgive me, a fifteenth Dragon.”
“Could it be?” he asked. The Thread’s neck coiled upwards in his surprise. “Though I saw the images in your mind, they were the nightmares of a child. I did not give them credence. I have not sensed any others. It should not be possible for there to be another of my kind.”
“Your machine, back on Sirapothi. The one Nima showed you. I saw the remains of an egg upon it. It had hatched.”
“The young woman,” the Thread said, his voice growing wistful. “This Nima. She showed me images of the machine, but not with the detail I see in your mind now. I cannot – It is beyond my understanding how this device could exist on Sirapothi. Terminus destroyed it himself, here on Aroha Darad.”
More mysteries, Upala thought. Along with more examples of destruction and damaging anger.
“The device does exist, Thread. I promise you. But the Dragon birthed by the machine is not on Sirapothi. It is here. I have seen this Dragon with my own eyes. It killed my parents, a long time ago.”
“Not the nightmares of a child,” the Thread muttered. Upala was unsure if the Dragon was speaking to her or himself. “Birthed by the machine, on Sirapothi? But Orami and I never solved-“
He stopped, taking a deep breath before looking down at her, a stern look coming into his eyes.
“Upala, I thank you. I admit I do not yet comprehend this, but I will seek this Dragon, and the machine. Yet my brothers and sisters trapped within the vaults come first. I promise to you and the Rakhum, though I will free the other trapped Dragons, I will permit no further death to come from us.”
“I understand,” Upala said. “And I believe you. When you are ready to look for this Fifteenth Dragon, please come find me. I wish to help.”
The Thread looked back at her in surprise, then nodded.
“I accept your offer, with thanks and the hope of future trust.” The Thread began to spread his wings, wide stretches of lavender and deep blue that hung over Upala like a canvas.
He turned his neck back towards her, looking down with an expression she registered as confusion.
“But why?” he asked. “After all that has happened. If this Dragon, this Fifteenth Fear as you call it. If it killed your forebears, it may have evil within its heart, like the Voice or Terminus. Why would you help me find it?”
Upala looked up and smiled. She thought of Drew and Merin, of the hope she saw in the eyes of the Rakhum, of the sunlight she now felt warming the long night her soul had lived through, its golden rays pushing through the fading clouds of her fear and guilt.
“Because, my friend. Hearts can change.”
34
Upala knelt in the dirt of the pollen-kite fields, her hands pressing the soil around the small sapling she had planted. In the east the dawn sun cast its warmth upon her, bathing her in light that felt pure and cleansing.
She took a moment to gaze around the shattered farmland, which still looked like a battlefield. Just two days earlier she had fought the Voice only a few fields over, those lands still lay buried in snow.
Here there had been similar destruction, with smashed wooden buildings and broken Rakhum lives. Much of the debris was now cleared, Merin and Trillip having led a team of volunteers the day before to try and bring some semblance of life back to the land. Upala had wanted to help, but she had lain alongside Drew all day, suffering through the Speaker’s ministrations of her wounds.
She was covered in so many bandages and salves she suspected she sounded like a collection of fabric when she walked. It was a sound that Drew had to describe to her, as she could not hear it. Despite her own healing and the Speaker’s best efforts, the ringing in her ears had not ceased. She could still understand people if she focused, but if too many spoke at once she quickly became lost.
As the sun warmed the field, Upala found she was not bitter about her injury. It was a small price to pay, and she still owed the people here a great deal. All around her were small gatherings of Rakhum, each planting young trees or flowering plants to commemorate those they had lost.
This had been a suggestion of Nima’s, it was a custom she had learned from Lhamu’s people on Sirapothi. A field of calm, Nima had called it, and Upala found she quite liked the sentiment.
The tiny tree she had pushed into the dirt was for Kater. She had asked that Drew give her this moment, and of course he had respected her desires. She could not ask the others to grieve for someone who had caused them so much pain, yet she would not deny herself this need either.
“Brother,” Upala said. She winced at the sound of her own voice, now nearly lost amongst the chorus of chimes in her ears. She was damaged, but she was alive and still had opportunities to bring more good into the world. The small tree cupped in her hands represented Kater’s true loss, the death of his second chance.
“You had it wrong,” she said to the sapling. “I guess we both did. I wanted to run, you wanted something I did not understand. Fighting for glory. We should have worked together, stood together. We could have been proud of each other, and we could have helped these people instead of using them.”
The wind picked up silently, blowing a small piece of blue cloth across Upala’s vision. It looked like a scrap of clothing. She could see blood stains on the edges.
“I am sorry you did not get the chance to see what more you could do, Kater. I will try though, I will try to make it up for both of us.”
She continued to kneel in the dirt and watched the wind slowly blow the scrap of clothing farther down the field, off toward the west. She pondered the mountains that marked the edge of this land. Sinar had come from there, had spoken of the City of Sands. A city of Manad Vhan. She found herself pondering questions she
had never before asked.
What others of my kind might be like, what their society and customs would be. Would they know of my parents? Were there Rakhums there too?
“It is nice, this planting of trees.”
Upala stood, surprised by Merin’s muffled voice behind her.
The tall woman faced her, her short hair blowing in the growing breeze. There were streaks of gray in Merin’s dark hair she had never noticed before.
“I am sorry if I am disturbing you.”
“No,” Upala said, shaking her head. “It is nice. And I am glad to see you.”
Merin knelt, looking for a moment at the tree Upala had planted. It swayed in the breeze, but she had dug its hole well and deep and it would withstand the wind. She blushed at the realization her tree honored the man who killed Merin’s husband.
“Using our losses to build something new,” Merin said, nodding and pressing a little extra dirt down around Upala’s planting. “I think it is a good concept.”
Something new, Upala thought. She looked over to where Drew and Nima were standing and talking, Nima having planted a tree earlier. Upala had not asked Nima who the tree was for, but she suspected it was for Tanira. She, least of all, could not begrudge Nima’s honoring someone who had caused others pain.
Drew stood with her, waving at Lhamu as the Caenolan girl ran to them. She thought of Drew and the changes he had helped her make in herself, and she in him. A small hand of fear clenched around her heart at the thought of a portal back to his world. For all the mysteries of machines and far off cities, she could not conceive of the idea of exploring them without him. They would have no color, no magic to them. Not anymore.
Merin was looking out over the damaged remains of Rogek Shad, the community now a maze of smashed tents and broken buildings. Rubble and work was everywhere, and it would take a strong person to lead these people out of it.
“Merin, Lhamu told me they asked you to lead the new community. I am glad to hear you will be going forward with reunification.”
Merin looked at her with a mixture of shock and amusement. “I cannot imagine how that girl might have heard that, but it is only partially true.”
While Upala had lay in her cot in the healing tent, Lhamu had seemed omnipresent. Possessing of an energy level and curiosity that exceeded even Nima, the young Caenolan girl seemed to be everywhere, questioning everyone and apparently hearing everything.
“It is true that they asked me,” Merin said, crossing her arms, “but I declined. They have in Trillip someone who is well suited to the role, and who has much more passion for reunification than I do. I will be available to Trillip, should he need me.”
“I will be honest, I had a hard time picturing you in meetings and committees. That may have been the Merin who was my administrator, but since the Under, I have come to know Merin the warrior, the protector.” She put her hand on Merin’s shoulder, looking into the woman’s eyes. “I admire that Merin a great deal.”
She saw one tear run down Merin’s cheek. Upala expected the woman to brush it away, or hide it somehow, but she simply let it stand.
“I am Merin the parent now,” she said. “I protect and teach Arix and Lam. If I am patient enough, I hope they will protect and teach me as well. For now, that will suffice.”
Upala smiled. For all the weight Merin had carried through these crises, she and her family deserved peace as much as any of them.
“And what of you, Upala. What do you do now? Back to your studies of Manad Vhan lore, or perhaps the machine in Sirapothi?”
Upala looked again at the vistas to her west, where, far away, the lands of her people and her family’s history lay. She turned her head, looking to the east where Drew stood, talking to Trillip.
“I do not know.”
The evening wind blew into the large tent, carrying the smell of smoke from the nearby alleys of Rogek Shad. Though the air carried a chill from the nearby mountains, Drew found himself feeling warm inside.
The structure was nearly empty, the people of both communities gathered in Nalam Wast for a gathering of mourners that seemed to be part funeral and part reunion. Drew, Nima, Upala and the others had been present for a time, sharing in the mixed emotions. There had been tears, but there was also hope, a prospect of a better future that Drew sensed had not been present for these people in a long time.
Hope was also a feeling he had found within himself.
Drew stared down at the three objects on the long table, a small wooden box, a shoulder plate with an embedded crystal, and a dented metal helmet. They all seemed so simple, so commonplace as to be barely worth noticing.
Yet it was these simple items that had caused all their problems, and could do so again. He was sure that was why Trillip had asked them all to come to the large tent in the center of Rogek Shad.
“How is that box staying there?” Nima asked from Drew’s right. It was a good question, if it did indeed contain the heart of Terminus then it should be sliding off the table, trying to reach its former body.
“We nailed the box to the table,” Trillip said, Drew nodding at the practicality of the solution. “Once we figure out what to do, we will carefully move it to a new box.”
Drew chuckled. What to do? That’s the question of the day, isn’t it? He had slept most of the previous day, waking only when the Speaker wanted to reapply his salve, or the two times he sensed someone staring at him, only to find Lhamu’s dark eyes inches from his face.
She was a sweet kid, but she had taken one of Nima’s more challenging traits, a lack of personal boundaries, to further extremes. Lhamu now stood next to Nima while they examined the shoulder plate together, the means of activating the Hero’s armor.
He and Nima had her own choices to make, now that the Thread had given them a way home.
Was it home? Drew didn’t think so. There were already more people here on this world that he cared for than lived on his former world. Odds are he could have kicked around Nepal or all of Asia for decades and never heard from his father. Before all this had happened, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for beyond his visions of Upala, but even then he had no intention of going back to Oregon.
Yet in front of him, here on the table, was a reason to return. It was an obligation, yet it felt like an anchor.
“These objects must be disposed of,” Upala said. She stood next to Drew, close as she slid her arm across his shoulders. That was a lack of personal boundaries he was fine with. He worried for her hearing, thus far it seemed a lot like the hearing loss some sailors experienced after being too close to an explosion, or the ship’s gun firing. Perhaps she would heal in time.
“Disposed of, yes,” Merin said. “But where? We must put them somewhere out of reach for anyone who might want to use them. Somewhere no Manad Vhan or Rakhum would even know the path to.”
“Earth,” Drew said. He had known where this conversation would go, and the solution was obvious. “My world. With the Under sealed, none of you know how to get there. Actually, only Nima does now. Sure, you know there’s a portal in the Weight’s Vault, but which one? There could be hundreds there. As long as I take these through-”
“You?” Upala said, taking her arm off his shoulder. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
“Yeah, you?” Nima added. “Why you?”
Drew looked down at Nima’s annoyed expression.
“Well, little sister. It has to be one of us and-”
“Of course it has to be one of us, but why you? What if you go through and you can’t get back? A lot of these portals end up closed on the other side. What about Upala? Don’t you want to be with her?”
“I do!” Drew took a step back, turning to Upala. He took her hands in his own, looking into her eyes. “There’s nothing I want to do more. Whatever is on the other side of that portal, it’s not my home now. My home is wherever you are.”
He looked back at the objects on the table, each of them a talisman for future evil and death. “Yet
I have-”
“You have someone who cares about you!” Nima reached up, pulling on his arm and turning him around. She poked him in the chest. “More than one someone! She loves you, and I love you, big brother. Why? Because you always want to take care of everyone. Well, now it’s time to let someone take care of you! And that’s going to be me!”
Drew stood there, words jumbling in his brain as Nima’s fiery stare burned into him. She could be stubborn as a yak when she wanted to be, and it was clear she did not intend to back down.
“Nima,” Drew said, lowering his voice in the hopes he could keep it from choking. “I appreciate what you want to do, but what about you? Do you want to spend the rest of your life there? What about finding adventure?”
She shook her head, her dark hair swinging about as it framed her smiling face.
“Your story is here, with Upala. It is a happy ending, one you deserve. Let me help give it to you. I carry my story with me. Wherever I go I will find it. There are plenty of hills back on our world I haven’t seen the top of. I don’t need Dragons and Yeti to find adventure.”
“You cannot win this, Drew.” Merin laughed, putting her hands on Nima’s shoulders. “I have known this small one long enough to see that.”
“No, I suppose I won’t,” Drew sighed. He then pulled Nima into as strong an embrace as his injuries would allow, kissing her head. Shame rose inside him, but he reassured it. It was all right. His friends loved him, and he did deserve this.
“Well, if you’re going,” Lhamu’s voice came from behind them, “then I’m going too.”
Drew released Nima, the pair of them turning to find Lhamu standing there, arms folded. The crystal in the center of her forehead glowed, shining like a small star in the room, matching the intensity of the young woman’s eyes.
Drew watched as Nima became the one with the disapproving look leveled at her, caught without knowing what to say.
“Is that even safe?” Drew asked, looking over at the Speaker. It was a legitimate question, but he also wanted to give Nima time to react.