by R S Penney
At long last, he looked up, and Desa gasped. The skin on his face was rotting away; his eyes were shriveled up and yellow. “Two thousand years of tradition!” he wheezed. “But Desa knows better.”
“We never would have gone to Ithanar,” Miri lamented. “There would have been no need. If you had just done what you were told, you would have lived a fulfilling life in Aladar.”
“You might have been head of the Academy,” Marcus panted.
Rage flared hot within Desa. She refused to suffer through any more of this charade. “Enough!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
The vision ended.
She was back on the rooftop with a mildly amused Mercy. The goddess sat upon a wooden chair that seemed to have come from out of nowhere, greeting Desa with a smile. “A difficult journey.”
Striding toward the other woman, Desa bared her teeth in a snarl. Her heart was pounding. “That’s all you have to say?” she exclaimed. “‘A difficult journey?’ I didn’t come here to be tortured!”
Mercy nodded her agreement. “Quite right,” she said. “Perhaps I should make amends.”
She lifted her hand, and a ball of light appeared over her palm, growing brighter and brighter until the radiance consumed her. When it faded, Mercy had a piece of pie on a small plate. “A fair approximation of your mother’s recipe,” she said.
Dumbfounded, Desa took the plate. She was about to mention the lack of any utensils, but Mercy stretched out her hand, and another flash of light produced a fork. Was this what it had been like to live in this city under the care of a benevolent goddess?
“Sit,” Mercy said.
A wooden chair materialized behind Desa, and she accepted the other woman’s offer. She couldn’t resist the urge to taste the pie. The tart flavour of strawberries exploded on her tongue along with a hint of sweetness.
Shutting her eyes, Desa moaned with satisfaction as she chewed. “You did it,” she said, nodding. “It’s exactly like the kind my mother used to make when I was little.”
“Well, I had to work backwards from your memory.” Mercy gave her a moment to finish eating before pressing on. “Shall we talk about what you saw in your vision?”
“My friends blaming me for teaching Bendarian how to Field Bind,” Desa replied. “For setting all of this in motion. All of them jeering at me in ways that were completely out of character, even for Marcus. To be honest, the whole thing felt a little on the nose.”
Covering a smile with one hand, Mercy chuckled. “The vision was a manifestation of your deepest fears,” she replied. “The ones you shove into the back of your mind and try not to think about. If the presentation was unrealistic, perhaps you should consider what that says about the fears themselves.”
Pausing with a forkful of pie halfway to her mouth, Desa eyed the other woman. “Thank you,” she muttered.
“My pleasure.”
Sunlight made the massive crystal sparkle, casting patterns of colour onto the stone walls of the pyramid’s central chamber. The air was stuffy and a little too warm, but that wasn’t the source of Desa’s discomfort. She had avoided this place since arriving in the ancient city. The place where she had fought Bendarian, where Adele had betrayed her.
The strange red light caused by Hanak Tuvar’s intrusion into this world was gone. The stone was once again pale, the sky blue. Desa breathed a sigh of relief about that. She wasn’t sure whether the change had been natural – the world healing itself – or a result of something Mercy had done. Either way, she was grateful for it.
Mercy floated up to the raised floor, alighting on its surface. She grunted, shaking her head in disapproval. “No, this won’t do at all.”
Desa climbed the steep, stone steps, joining the other woman beneath the crystal. Being here brought back a flood of memories. The anger, the exhaustion, the horror of Bendarian’s serpentine face. She had shot him, stabbed him, frozen him with a Heat-Sink, but the man refused to die. “What won’t do?” she mumbled.
Mercy gestured to a scorch mark on the wall, a black smudge on the pale stone. It was quite the blemish.
A flush set Desa’s face on fire. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I tried to blast him with lightning.”
“Yes, I recall.”
“You saw?”
Turning slowly on the spot, Mercy examined the room with a critical eye. “I witnessed some of it,” she said absently. “But I’m afraid that I was much too busy trying to maintain my molecular integrity to have seen much.”
Desa wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that meant. It sounded as if Mercy was saying that she had been having trouble keeping herself together. Granted, she had been in a weakened state then, but the thought of a goddess falling apart was not one that she wanted to contemplate. Mercy is not a goddess, she reminded herself.
It did no good. She knew perfectly well that the woman who stood before her had once been a scientist named Nari, but that did nothing to settle her unease. Mercy may not have been divine, but she was powerful. For her to have been on the verge of disintegration…
Planting her fists on her hips, Desa looked up at the crystal. Colourful light fell upon her. “Is this where you lived?” she asked. “A grand temple to your magnificence?”
Mercy spared her a glance, then snorted and returned to her inspection of the scarred walls. “This place was a school,” she said. “I built it to teach your ancestors how to Bind the Unifying Field. Children would sit on this floor and meditate. Come.”
Without warning, Mercy flew up toward a hole in the wall that led into a tunnel, disappearing into the darkness. Desa had no desire to follow. She had fought Bendarian in those narrow passageways. But this might be part of the lesson.
Desa ran across the raised floor, then pulsed her Gravity-Sink and leaped. She somersaulted through the air and landed in the tunnel with a grunt.
Mercy stood with one hand against the corridor wall, a wry smile on her face. “A tad flamboyant,” she said. “But you have an intuitive grasp of gravity. Quite impressive. For many people, that is the most difficult energy form to master.”
“Why are there no stairs?” Desa asked. “If this was a school, how could anyone be expected to get up here without stairs?”
“The same way you did,” Mercy replied. “This section of the pyramid was dedicated to the study of gravity. Students were required to show a mastery of the basic principles before progressing to more advanced lessons.”
It took less than a minute to find a place where Desa had fired several shots into the wall while trying to hit Bendarian. She remembered that fight, the way he would appear and disappear, always trying to sneak up on her.
“I do hate it when my guests make a mess,” Mercy whispered.
She pressed her palm against the stone. Crystal spread from her fingertips, over the back of her hand and all the way up to her elbow. Her arm began to glow, and when the light faded, it was covered in smooth, brown skin once again.
The bullet holes were gone.
Spinning on her heel, Mercy proceeded down a second tunnel that branched off from the main one. The luminous stones that Desa had shattered were still lying on the floor, and somehow, they were still Infused.
The goddess set to work, clearing out the rubble, repairing the damage. A year ago, Desa had wondered why this stubby, little corridor had come to such an abrupt dead end. It turned out that it had once been much longer.
The huge rock that Desa had mistaken for a wall was actually a part of the ceiling that had collapsed centuries ago. A wave of Mercy’s radiant hand had it rising and fitting itself back into place.
When she was finished the hallway extended for another hundred feet, ending in a window that looked out on the blue sky. Daylight made the place feel more cheerful, but it was the doors in each wall that filled Desa with a sense of wonder. Each one led into a small, empty room. Quite unremarkable, really, but she was certain that she could guess their purpose. “This is where the students took their lessons?”<
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Mercy nodded.
“I’m confused.”
“What troubles you, my child?”
“When you brought me here,” Desa began, coming up behind the other woman. “I thought you were going to teach me about Field Binding. Show me something that I can use against Adele.”
Mercy turned around, arching a thin, dark eyebrow. “You already know as much about Binding the Field as any human could hope to learn,” she said. “That technique you used to restore my power…I have taught thousands of students over the centuries, but only a handful of them could have done that.”
“Then why am I here?”
Mercy poked her nose with a plump finger, causing Desa to flinch. “To learn about you,” she said. “To become the person you need to be. The one who can defeat Hanak Tuvar.”
From her perch upon the roof of a small house, Desa admired the evening sky. The sun was a red ball hovering over the horizon, its light striking the enormous crystal at just the right angle to create a shower of sparkles. Like rubies spilling from a bag. A gentle breeze carried with it the scent of flowers. Mercy’s doing, no doubt.
The goddess sat in her wooden chair with her eyes closed, bathed in the crimson glow. She kept drumming her fingers on her thigh, humming a tune that Desa had never heard before. She almost looked tired.
It was a very human moment: satisfaction after a hard day’s work. Whatever Mercy may have become, the core of who she was remained.
Sitting by the ledge with her legs curled up, her arms wrapped around her knees, Desa drew in a breath. “So,” she began. “You really think I should forgive myself?”
“I think you should accept that there is nothing to forgive.”
“The Synod would not agree.”
Stretching out her legs, Mercy sat back with her hands folded over her stomach She seemed to be searching for something in the twilight sky. “Tell me something, Desa,” she said at last. “Why did you teach Bendarian the art of Field Binding?”
“Because the Synod is wrong,” Desa replied all too quickly. “The knowledge of Field Binding does not belong to Aladar. And because, when he came to us, he was a broken man. I thought it might give him something to live for.”
“So, it was an act of kindness.”
Desa’s answer to that was a shrug. “I suppose,” she muttered under her breath. “That was certainly how I intended it.”
“Then allow me to ask you this,” Mercy countered. “You’ve saved many people over the years. What if one of them goes on to become a murderer?”
A frown tugged at the corners of Desa’s mouth. She grunted, shaking her head. “It’s not the same,” she replied. “The Academy had strict rules about not teaching the Great Art to outsiders. They said it was because hostile, war-like cultures would only abuse the power of Field Binding.”
A tear spilled over her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “I thought those rules were foolish,” Desa went on. “Chauvinistic. But my decision to disobey them has literally brought about the end of the world.”
The warmth of Mercy’s smile took some of her pain away. “Oh, child,” the goddess said. “You are one node in a very complicated process. This was only one way that events might have played out, and many paths led to this outcome. Let go of your guilt, Desa. It does you no good.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes,” Mercy said. “You can. I think it’s time you learned the true nature of your enemy.”
13
The next morning, Mercy took her into the heart of the pyramid, into the sunlight that fell through the crystal. Clothed in a simple, yellow dress, the goddess stood upon the raised floor. Desa felt her pulse racing. Something about this reminded her of the final tests she had taken at the Academy, tests in which she had been made to demonstrate her proficiency with Field Binding to nearly a dozen instructors. Rael had called her Infusions barely passable. She suspected that nothing she could have done would meet with his approval.
This was it: the reason she had come to this wasteland on the edge of the known world. The secret to defeating Hanak Tuvar. For the first time in a very long while, she began to feel a smidge of hope. Maybe when this was over…Well, that could wait.
Climbing the stone steps, Desa planted herself in front of the other woman. She nodded once. “I’m ready.”
“Are you?”
“As ready as I can be.”
Mercy came forward with her arms folded, a stern expression on her face. Colourful light fell upon her as she approached Desa. “We shall see,” she replied. “There is still one final lesson. The most difficult of all.”
Desa sighed, shutting her eyes and trying to stifle her frustration. Patience. That was what Mercy expected from her. “I thought we were finished with lessons,” she said. “What’s this one about?”
“The consequences of your mistakes.”
Gaping at the other woman, Desa shook her head. “Wait, wait, wait,” she protested. “Last night, you told me that I had to forgive myself. Now, you want me to accept the consequences of my actions?”
“You will see.”
Mercy snapped her fingers.
The next thing Desa knew, she was standing on a strange road between ugly, brown buildings. People milled about on the sidewalks, hundreds of them, all wearing fashions she had never seen before. Wool suits and caps for the men, frilly dresses and hats with feathers for the women.
She was so mystified by the sight of it that she barely noticed the car that came sputtering up the street. The driver honked his horn several times, pulling Desa out of her stupor. He was cranking the steering wheel, trying to swerve around her.
Desa threw herself sideways, rolling across the gravel road to the curb. She pushed herself up on two hands. This may have been a fantasy, but the sensations were real. She had scraped her shoulder, and it hurt!
The horn blared a few more times, drowning out the driver’s curses as his car rolled past. She saw people watching her with wary expressions. No doubt they were wondering if she was in possession of all her faculties.
What city was this?
Her first thought was that it might be Aladar, but the buildings disabused her of any such notion. Squat structures constructed from brown bricks, each one showing skinny windows on all three floors: this was not Aladri architecture. And Aladar’s roads were paved with tar!
This was not Ithanar either. Nothing that she saw made her think of the Al a Nari. So, where had Mercy taken her? Across the Caliad to the continent of Rondiri? She had dreamed about going when she was younger just to see what was there, but from what she had heard, the Rondirans had not developed this level of technology.
An old man with a gray beard and silver hair to match stood upon the curb, bending over to offer his hand. “Are you all right, madame?”
Desa let him help her to her feet. She dusted herself off, blinking a few times as she tried to get her bearings. “Thank you, sir,” she mumbled. “This may be a silly question, but, where are we?”
Clasping his chin in one hand, the old fellow studied her the way a museum curator might study a painting. “Duster,” he noted. “Leather boots. If you don’t mind my saying so, ma’am, you look like one of those old bounty hunters?”
“Old bounty hunters?”
“They were legends when I was a boy,” he explained. “Men and women who traveled across the country, bringing criminals to justice. One even came through my little village. Got me out of a spot of trouble. Come to think of it, you almost look like…Desa? Desa Kincaid?”
She stumbled backward into the street, squinting at him. “No,” she hissed, shaking her head. “It’s impossible.”
“Desa, it’s me!” He took a hesitant step toward her, offering his hand again. She saw no malice in his eyes, no hostility. “You never told me that Ether of yours can stave off old age. If you had, I might have taken Tommy’s advice and learned.”
“Sebastian?” she breathed.
“Yes!” H
is smile faded, and he let his arm drop, awkwardly clearing his throat. “I realize you may not trust me after what happened…But you look like you could use a hot meal. We’ve got plenty to spare at the boarding house.”
“The boarding house?”
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, blushing hard as he averted his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “A lot changed after we parted ways. I try to help those children who…Perhaps it was a foolish idea. Some bridges can never be mended, I suppose.”
He turned to go, shuffling up the sidewalk. For a moment, Desa just watched him. Every hard-learned lesson warned her not to trust him. Not after he had betrayed her to Bendarian. But Mercy had sent her here, and she was certain that Mercy would not put her in harm’s way. There was something here that the goddess needed her to see.
“Sebastian, wait!” she called out.
He froze.
Desa hurried after him, brushing the remaining dust off her coat. “I would welcome a hot meal,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
He spun around to face her with a smile that could light up the darkest night. “I would be honoured!” he exclaimed. “It’s the least I can do. I never did thank you for saving my life.”
Sebastian brought her to a blue house with black shingles on the slopes of its roof, a homey, little place with a garden in front. Inside, she found a kitchen with a wooden table and two young men standing over a gas stove.
One of them was pale and slim, the other short and broad-shouldered with a dark complexion. They seemed to be checking a pot of stew, stirring it with a wooden spoon.
Sebastian entered the room with his coat draped over one arm, grunting as he inspected their work. “I see supper is coming along,” he said. “Well done, lads.”
The boys whirled around to face him. “We thought we’d get it started,” the short one said with a shrug. “I know it’s Lisa’s turn to cook, but she has a dreadful headache.”