The Soul of Time

by Jennifer Macaire

  I strained my ears but heard nothing. Sure enough, though, after a short wait, Plexis came padding silently into the grove. Paul and Demos followed, with Axiom bring up the rear. They all fell upon me, laughing, crying, hugging me, and scolding.

  I was soon floating above the ground on a comfortable litter carried by Demos and Axiom while Plexis led and Paul and Alexander walked close behind. I could hear them talking together; it sounded like Alexander was describing the banquet at Musicanus’s palace in great detail. Occasionally Paul would interrupt with a question then say, with a sigh, ‘How I wish I could have seen that.’

  We hiked up the mountain, stopping once for lunch and once to rest. By the time the sun was low, we’d reached the others. I was glad to be in the midst of a bustling crowd. The silence of the forest had started to unnerve me. Alexander made sure that the soldiers understood that they had to stay within the circles of light, and the women and children gathered around a central bonfire. We spent the short night huddled within the flickering firelight. Flames glinted off the men’s spear tips and swords as they stood ready to fight.

  However, Voltarrix was biding his time.

  We advanced as quickly as we dared, hoping to lure Voltarrix into an attack while we were all armed and ready, but he remained invisible. Then, on the morning of the third day, a small child disappeared. The mother’s anguished wails echoed through the campsite and surrounding forest as everyone spread out to search.

  Plexis found the trail and started to track the child. At first it was easy, the little boy had seen a bunny and had followed it. Both sets of prints were clear.

  Then the rabbit vanished into his hole, and the boy, instead of heading back to camp, had chosen to venture into a deep thicket. There were wild berries, so the reason was obvious. Then the footprints seemed to vanish. Plexis cast around, his face a study in frustration.

  ‘I don’t understand how he could have disappeared. It looks more as if someone erased his tracks. Look, here, how the ground is smooth. Someone has passed his hand over it. But here is a print, quite clear, of a wolf. Except there are no others.’ He stopped and frowned. ‘I don’t like this at all.’

  I was standing well back, staying out of his way. But when he mentioned a wolf print, my heart lurched.

  ‘Plexis,’ I whispered. ‘You must find a trail. Even if it looks as if an animal made it. Find a trail and follow it. We have to reach the child before nightfall.’ I looked at the sky. There were only a few more hours until sunset.

  I went to find Alexander and spoke to him urgently. He listened with a growing scowl. At first, he didn’t want to agree to my plan, but I insisted, and the woman who’d lost her child was sobbing so hard that he relented.

  Paul, Demos, and Alexander went with me. We followed Plexis as quietly as we could. I was alternately quivering with fear and horror. I knew what I must do. I’d seen it in my dream. What I would do would destroy part of me. I would never be the same. I would think of the consequences later. Much later.

  Plexis followed a faint trail into a saddleback ridge. There, two mountains rose side by side, forming a deep ravine between them. A stream cascaded down one narrow end, splashing over boulders and mossy banks, disappearing into the darkness below. Tall pine trees grew precariously on steep inclines, looking like intrepid mountain climbers dressed in prickly green holding out their branches for balance. The trail twisted downwards, weaving between trees and boulders, leading us down, down, into the gloomy twilight of the ravine. Once at the bottom, Plexis stopped. The stream had widened, its gravelly banks overgrown with fern and nettle. The trail led into the stream and we could see where it picked up on the other side. However, we hesitated. We couldn’t see through the gloom, and we didn’t want to fall into a trap or let Voltarrix know we were on his heels. Raising my eyes, I caught sight of darkness behind some pine trees. I pointed silently. Alexander peered upwards then nodded grimly. ‘A cave,’ he whispered.

  We faded into the undergrowth to discuss our plans. They were simple and horrifying.

  The sun crossed over the chasm and disappeared behind the steep mountainside. Almost at once, I heard the shriek of a frightened child. I felt a rush of adrenaline. Any misgivings I had faded with that anguished cry.

  Paul and I made our way up the hillside, following Plexis, putting our hands and feet exactly where he showed us. He moved like a shadow over the rocky ground, never putting his foot wrong, picking out the trail through the gathering darkness. Near the mouth of the cave he stopped and turned. His amber eyes were dark pools of fear.

  ‘I cannot go any further,’ he gasped. Sweat pearled on his brow. I could feel a change in the air. It was growing stronger. The child’s cries grew higher and higher, then stopped. Plexis froze. Paul and I looked and each other and nodded. It was time. Taking deep breaths, we stepped inside the cave.

  There was no light inside, but we could see the faint outlines of the Eaters of the Dead gathered in a tight circle around the child. Voltarrix was holding his ritual knife, but it hadn’t begun its slow descent. The timing had been perfect. I could feel electricity coursing through my veins. There was a ringing in my ears. Time had slowed again. I moved through it, a knife in my right hand.

  In my dream, I had held Alexander’s sword, but it was too heavy and unwieldy for me. I had chosen a knife; dreams are not reality. Dreams are only our subconscious, sometimes telling us what our minds refuse to acknowledge. My subconscious had told me what I had to do. I moved through the darkness like an avenging angel.

  And the kneeling men, the Eaters of the Dead, grimaced in frozen agony, their sharp fangs shining, their eyes glittering with anguish and fear as I pushed the knife into their throats and sawed it from side to side. I had to shut my eyes as I did it. My skin crawled with horror. I clenched my teeth to keep my stomach from heaving.

  I completed the circle just as Voltarrix’s knife found the child’s throat, and my scream echoed through time, a shattering roar in the cavern. There was another cry. Paul leapt through the crystal air and struck the knife from the druid’s hands. It fell to the ground in an interminable, shining arc and shattered in slow motion when it hit the stone.

  I dropped my own knife, my heart lurching. A stray shaft of light, reflected from outside, had somehow found its way into the cave. In front of me knelt a man I knew. A young man with creamy skin and brown hair the colour of fall leaves. His teeth were not pointed. His hands were bound behind his back. His eyes were deep pools reflecting the madness of that night; I could see blood between his teeth where he’d bitten his tongue.

  I bent down, picked up my knife, my fingers wet with blood and sweat, and I cut the ropes binding his arms. ‘Run!’ I roared to him. ‘When you hear the thunder run!’ My own voice was like a roll of thunder. I hoped he understood. How long had Yovanix been a prisoner? Had he lost his mind? He only stared at me blankly.

  I turned then and faced Voltarrix. His mouth was frozen in a scream. I was the image of death reflected in his eyes. I had no pity for him. What would happen if I killed him before he set time back on its track? I had no idea, but if I didn’t kill him now I never would. My knife plunged into his chest. Alexander had showed me exactly where to place it. The knife was held horizontally, I ran my fingers lightly down his chest, counting the ribs, finding the space between them. My mouth moved as I whispered. Voltarrix screamed silently. I shoved the blade in, and then a clap of thunder threw me to the ground.

  I looked for my son, but Paul had already taken the child. He’d left the cave at a run.

  I scrambled to my feet, staggering as the ground lurched again. Voltarrix was on the ground, his blood bubbling out of the wound. Alexander had told me to remove the knife, but it was torn from my grasp when the world shook, now it protruded from his chest. With a snarl, he reached out and caught my ankle.

  I screamed and fought, but even mortally wounded, he was too strong for me. The Eaters of the Dead had fallen. They would not help their master again. We were sw
imming in blood, blood was choking me, blinding me, and burning my skin.

  Suddenly a boulder fell from the roof of the cave, and the sound deafened me. The whole cave was falling in on us. I screamed again and kicked backwards, clawing for a handhold on the slippery floor, struggling through thick, hot blood. I was trapped in a nightmare. I kept screaming, straining to get away. The sound of rocks falling was like cracks of thunder.

  Then a shock went through Voltarrix. I felt it like a jolt of electricity. I screamed again, but now strong arms were lifting me, and I was half carried, half heaved out of the cave. Someone had torn me from Voltarrix’s grip and saved me from the mad druid.

  I lost my footing and tumbled, rolling over and over down the hill. Behind me, there was a muffled roar. A cloud of dust and stones enveloped me as the cave collapsed. Behind me, someone uttered a loud curse, then started to laugh hysterically. I landed in a heap next to a boulder and shook my head to clear it. ‘Yovanix?’ I gasped. Then I couldn’t speak as nausea swept over me. My stomach heaved and I leaned over and vomited on the shattered ground. Behind me, I heard the sound of uncertain steps. The earth gave one last tremor, tumbling me the last few feet to the bottom of the gully.

  Yovanix crumpled into me. We lay in a heap, panting and disoriented. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked, finally getting my breath back.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He started to laugh again and it turned into a wail. He was shuddering against me, trembling so hard his head was hitting the stones. I tried to hold him but I was hampered by my wounded arm.

  ‘It’s over,’ I said, ‘Don’t cry. Don’t worry. We’re here and we’ll keep you safe.’

  ‘You will?’ His voice broke and turned his face to me.

  I was past shock. Trauma had numbed me. I just stared at Yovanix, taking in the gaping holes where his eyes should have been, the tears of blood that ran down his face. I found I could breathe then. ‘Oh, no, please, no,’ I choked, and I put my arms around him and held him, just held him while he sobbed.

  ‘I didn’t know if it was you,’ he said. ‘I heard a god speaking, and he said, run. There was thunder. I heard screaming. I didn’t know if it was really you.’

  ‘You saved my life,’ I said. ‘You saved me from Voltarrix.’

  He couldn’t speak any more, his head fell onto my shoulder and he shuddered against me. I held onto him and crooned into his ear until Alexander, Demos and Plexis crept over to us.

  I looked up at them. ‘He’s dying,’ I mouthed silently.

  Alexander knelt by my side. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. He’ll be all right, I promise.’ I caught him glancing at Demos and I tightened my arms around Yovanix.

  Demos took my arms and gently pulled them apart. ‘Let me see,’ he said softly.

  ‘I cut his throat,’ I said brokenly. ‘It was dark and I couldn’t see very well. I closed my eyes. Everyone was in a circle. They were gathered around the child and Voltarrix …’ I looked around. ‘Where is Paul? Where’s the child?’

  ‘They’re safe. Don’t worry. Shhh, let me see him.’ Demos nodded to Alexander and he raised me to my feet. I walked unsteadily, my body strangely unwilling to move.

  There was a noise behind me, sort of a gurgle. I turned and saw Yovanix sitting up. Demos was holding his face in his huge hands looking at his wounds. Down his chest streamed fresh blood. The cut I’d made hadn’t been deep, but it was deep enough. Plexis was ready though. Using the method I’d tried on Alexander, he carefully closed the wound with tight stitches, his face a mask of concentration. Yovanix squirmed and tried to speak, but Demos held him firmly, speaking to him in a deep, gentle voice, telling him over and over not to worry.

  I looked at Alexander. My teeth started to chatter. I couldn’t speak but he knew what I wanted. He led me to the stream. Without a word he stripped off my blood-soaked clothes and washed the gore from my body. The water may have been cold, I don’t recall. I couldn’t feel a thing. I put my head into the water and let the current wash my hair. I lay in the fast flowing stream and tried to clear my thoughts. I wanted very much to be able to close my eyes, but I couldn’t. Each time I did, I saw the eyes of the men I’d killed. It had been like killing innocents. They couldn’t move; it had been so unfair. Like stabbing someone while they slept, but worse. These men had all watched me coming at them with a knife. I was trapped in my dream, helplessly watching as my hand advanced towards the white throats all offered to me. And the knife that Axiom had sharpened to a bright razor coming closer and closer to taut skin …

  I sat up, sputtering and gasping. The cold rushed over me, slapping me awake. Alexander hauled me out of the stream and half led, half carried me into the forest. We went back up the path towards the light that was growing stronger over the eastern side of the mountains.

  At the top, in a clearing, a yellow fire burned brightly in the pale grey dawn. Axiom was feeding soup to a little boy sitting in Paul’s lap. As I neared the fire, the child saw me and shrank back in terror. I stopped and looked at him. I can well imagine what he’d seen in the dark cave. A terrifying goddess of shimmering silver holding a glittering knife. Then the dark lines that gaped at the bases of the men’s throats like sick smiles.

  Paul spoke to him, whispering in his ear in his own language, and the child relaxed. I sat next to the fire, and Axiom draped a warm cloak over me. I’d asked Alexander to bury my old clothes. I could never wash the stains out of them. I clutched the cloak around me, holding its warmth to my skin, staring at the fire. I couldn’t unclench my teeth. I was stupefied with the horror of what I’d done. Even my tears felt like drops of ice trickling down my cheeks.

  Alexander spoke in a whisper to Axiom then went back into the ravine to help carry Yovanix out. I drew my knees to my chest and waited, staring unblinkingly at the flames.

  We must have made a pathetic sight coming back to the camp. Nearchus saw us first; he was standing guard on the outskirts, his spear and sword in hand. He dropped them and rushed towards us. When I saw his face, I realized how dreadful we looked. Yovanix was stretched on a litter, his face towards the sky, a bandage swathing his throat and eyes. I was walking next to Alexander, clutching his arm, afraid to let go. I felt exactly as if I were about to fly off the face of the earth. I needed an anchor.

  Paul was leading the child. The little boy was still dressed in his ragged, bloodstained tunic. Paul had tried to wash his own clothes, but he couldn’t. They were still rust-coloured and stiff with dried blood. We had been drenched in it. It had dried in rivulets on our faces and in our hair. Plexis was leading the way, but his face was paler than usual. He had sewn up Yovanix’s neck, then fainted at Demos’s feet.

  Demos didn’t look so well himself. Each time he glanced my way, he made signs against evil. He couldn’t help it. It was completely involuntary. But he’d seen me coming out of the cave. Alexander said it had looked as if I were flying with Yovanix clutching me from behind. I had been scarlet from head to toe, absolutely painted with blood. We’d plunged down the hill in front of a landslide and come to rest against a massive boulder, miraculously unhurt. Demos shuddered whenever he saw me now. I couldn’t blame him.

  What had frightened him the most had been the amount of blood. Even after ten years of fighting in the Persian army, he’d never seen anything like it. Then Yovanix had turned his ruined face towards him and the big man had just about fainted. Now he held Yovanix’s hand with one hand, and he made the sign against evil with the other.

  I walked and I looked closely at everything and thought hard about everything I saw, muttering the names of trees and plants as I spied them, asking Alexander to name them for me if I didn’t know them. I watched the sky and the clouds. I studied the men with me, looking at their clothes and the way they moved. I tried to keep my mind busy with the here and now. I still didn’t dare close my eyes.

  Axiom paused now and then to gather herbs. I saw him studying me. He smiled sadly every time our eyes met. I could never smile back. I could only shudder.
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  Nearchus rushed towards us and stopped when he saw who was on the stretcher, but he didn’t ask a single question. His eyes flew from Plexis to Alexander to me, then to the child Paul was leading by the hand. Haltingly he approached us and dropped a light hand on Plexis’s shoulder. ‘Hail,’ he said. ‘The boy’s mother will be overjoyed to have her son back.’

  Yovanix struggled to sit up on the stretcher. ‘Nearchus, is that you?’ he asked, his voice high.

  ‘It is. Hail, Yovanix, my heart is glad to see you; I thought that you were in Hades’ realm.’

  ‘I was,’ said Yovanix, his bandaged face turned towards the blond admiral. ‘I was in Hades’ realm, and Persephone the Terrible delivered me. She killed everyone, everyone, and Voltarrix as well, but not before he blinded me. “Look upon death!” he said to me, and he put out my eyes. But not before I saw the Queen of Ice and Darkness sailing through the night.’

  My arms prickled. All my hair stood on end. ‘It’s not true,’ I whispered. ‘It was only me. Voltarrix had no hold on me; I don’t come from this time. I had to slay them; I had to. Otherwise they would have hunted us all the way to Orce. Don’t you see? I had to kill them. I didn’t want to. I swear to you I never wanted to slaughter anyone!’

  Yovanix kept shaking his head, and Nearchus’s lips drew back from his teeth in a grimace of fright. ‘What do you say, Iskander?’ he whispered.

  Alexander sighed then seemed to gather himself together. He had more strength than any of us. He looked at Nearchus. He raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. ‘What do you want me to say? That it’s true? Yes, it’s true. The Eaters of the Dead are all lying in a cave with their throats cut from ear to ear, and Voltarrix is dead with my knife in his chest.’ He paused and then turned to me. ‘I told you to pull it out,’ he said, and his old grin was back. ‘By the gods, Woman, now I have to wait until I get back to Gaul to get myself a new knife.’

  Nearchus’s mouth twitched and then he smiled. ‘You moved through time again?’ he asked, and he looked straight at me. His dark blue gaze was no longer fearful. ‘No, My Lady,’ he said, divining my thoughts. ‘I have known you too long and too well. But judging from Yovanix’s words and Demos’s face, I think you’re going to have to get used to being called the Queen of Ice and Darkness again.’