The Indivisible and the Void

by D M Wozniak

  “I have no interest in the war,” I say. “In fact, I hate it. It has stripped my university of students. Voiders are not meant for bloodshed.”

  He lets out a bitter laugh. “You sure about that?”

  I hear the effulgent mumble a groan of agreement behind me.

  “You of all people shouldn’t judge,” I tell Colu, glancing back at Chimeline as my anger flares. “You stood by while your companions were going to rape and kill her.”

  “So? I was outnumbered,” he mumbles.

  I try to calm my horse and my rising anger. “Are you telling me a helmsman in the Xian navy cannot take on three hilma addicts?”

  He puts his hand on his machete, takes a step back, and raises his head and voice. “I told you, that man is dead. I’m a different person now.” His chest rises and falls in deep breaths before he looks back to Chimeline. “If you had met me a long time ago, you would have run into a man with honor. But I am no longer that man.”

  I glance back to Chimeline to gauge her reaction. She just wraps herself tighter in her blanket and looks fearfully to the white house far away.

  “I give you my word,” I tell Colu, turning back to him. “My presence here has nothing to do with this stupid war. I am on my way south for personal matters.”

  “Personal matters,” he mimics slowly, and then spits into the dirt. “So what is it? Revenge or a woman?”

  I don’t say a word, and he flashes his skull teeth mischievously.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You don’t know as much as you think,” I tell him.

  He grunts. “I know enough. I know that there are only two things in this world that can drive a man crazy. That look in your eyes. You’re hunting something, no matter the cost. To the point where you will risk your own life and those around you.”

  Colu’s one-eyed gaze falls upon Chimeline and the effulgent.

  An Audience with the Redskull

  As we leave the wildness of the hilma row, our horses cross onto a sandy, circular road. A three-tier bronze fountain sits in the middle of it, within the shade of the immense, white house beyond.

  A bathing crow watches us, and I hear the sound of a woman’s laughter faraway.

  Colu sighs by my side. “I was just getting to like this place,” he mumbles under his breath. “Easy work for the money, and a comfortable bed too.”

  I look at him in confusion. “You speak as if I am going to burn this mansion down.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you. But that’s not what I’m getting at.”

  After I don’t turn away, he points to the white building, as if I’m dense. “You’re going to walk in there with your voidstone. Which means the redskull is going to kill me as soon as you leave. No doubt about it. I fucked up. Let you in with your stone. I’ll need to flee this place before he has the chance.”

  “Don’t worry about him. He and I are going to have a long talk.”

  He blows a sharp breath through his lips. “I’m not sure you know what you’re walking into.”

  I look up past him to the white mansion. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  He shakes his head slowly. “I hope so.”

  We’re nearing the fountain. I dismount and signal to Chimeline and the effulgent to do the same.

  “There is a delicate balance here,” Colu continues, his voice quieter now. “And you are riding in like a storm. Whatever good you think you’re doing, have you considered that you might unleash something worse?”

  I turn to him. “Worse than the demise of a rogue hilma plantation?”

  For a moment, he just presses his lips together, but then his emotions seem to get the better of him. He shakes his head. “You’re like a child playing in the sand.”

  I narrow my eyes.

  A metallic sound echoes out from across the fountain—the sound of a door being unlocked.

  The double-wide front doors open and four men exit, clothed in black-and-white formal uniforms, not unlike the servant staff at the Royal House.

  I’m surprised that no skull-paint decorates their faces.

  Two palehounds exit from behind them. Lanky and about one-hundred pounds in size, their heads almost reach the hips of the servants. They easily tread away from the four men, coming near and sniffing us in curiosity. My horse makes a small, nervous jump, and one of the palehounds retreats, flashing his red fangs behind fine, bone-colored fur.

  I want to speak more to Colu on this subject, but the timing is not right. He kicks the sandy ground once, as we walk our horses around the fountain and into the shade of the mansion. The sudden coolness feels pleasant. Over the course of the afternoon, the sun’s heat has grown strong. A testament to how far south we have already traveled.

  We hand our reigns over. I glance quickly at all four of them, looking for the telling signs of hilma addiction: yellow eyes, green teeth, and protruding veins. I see none of it.

  One of them is older, and stands straighter with his hands behind his back. He looks to my voidstone, and then back to Colu, tilting his head subtly, but not subtly enough. I can almost read his thoughts.

  A voider bearing a voidstone? Are you insane?

  “It’s fine,” Colu says. “We’re here to see him.”

  The head footman reluctantly nods and then whistles. The two palehounds perk up their bone-white heads and run inside.

  The other three footmen begin taking our horses to a small, white stable in the distance, while the rest of us climb the brick stairs of the redskull’s mansion.

  I grab the gold setting of my necklace in anticipation, as the effulgent’s voice rings in my head.

  Why seek out danger?

  Up until now, he has been wrong. His fears were unwarranted. They were the dark to a privileged child, starvation to a farmer during a bountiful harvest. Even when things got out of control with Yellow Eyes, I was able to course-correct.

  But now?

  Despite the calmness of this courtyard and the comfort of the shade from a southern sun, we are in danger.

  I feel it.

  Cleanthes isn’t just a voider. He was one of my brightest students. Until I understand what has happened here, I must treat him as a threat. A significant threat—far more dangerous than a mere skullman.

  Or a hundred of them.

  I feel eyes on me and turn sideways. Chimeline and the hooded effulgent both look at me in concern.

  “Whatever happens, stay behind me,” I tell them. “Make sure that I am between you and the redskull at all times.”

  Chimeline nods in seriousness, while the effulgent shakes his head in disbelief.

  As soon as we’re through the front double-doors, I briefly touch my voidstone.

  I create a membrane of dynamic voidance.

  It’s barely discernible to the naked eye, but shockingly, even with one eye, Colu somehow sees it. Maybe he felt the momentary breeze. He looks back at me with a deeply furrowed brow, but I don’t say anything and he doesn’t either.

  The air directly in front of us shimmers in subtle distortion, as if above a bed of hot coals. It is tethered to me, so as I move, the membrane moves. Any voider on the other side will be unable to see the indivisibles beyond without first breaking through the membrane itself. But if that happened, it would be noticeable, and allow me time to react.

  With that taken care of, I finally look around.

  Inside the grand foyer, an elaborate wooden staircase borders all four walls, climbing up three stories. A few clusters of young women, clothed in colorful silk nightgowns, gather on the second and third floor landings, looking down at us like songbirds in a rainforest. The roof, far above, is made of paned glass stained turquoise green.

  For a moment, fear fills me as I think that Cleanthes might be above me, somewhere on the second or third floor landing, and I am prepared to create another membrane that covers us all, but then the footman looks back at us through the faint haze.

  “The redskull is in the library,” he sa
ys to me, his voice echoing. “He has been expecting you.”

  I turn to Colu with a confused expression. “How is he expecting us?” I whisper.

  “I waved a black flag when I saw you on Xi Bay Road,” he replies. “They sent word back here.”

  “Black for voider?”

  He nods.

  We walk through the dim foyer, past towering palms in elaborate, hand-painted blue-and-white pots large enough for a man to sit in.

  “These are from the archipelago,” Chimeline whispers, her fingers grazing the top of the pots without having to bend down.

  We pass a large standing mirror, and I pause when I see my reflection. My face is bloodied and swelled.

  “Can you heal yourself like you did my wrist?” Chimeline whispers.

  I nod. “Not now, though. There is no time.”

  The palehounds slowly walk past us, and their claws tap on the floor like fingernails on glass, and I leave the mirror behind.

  When we reach the opposite side of the foyer, the head footman turns to us.

  “One moment, please,” he says, and he slides the massive pocket doors open slightly, before disappearing into the room beyond. He closes them behind himself, but not all the way—a sliver of orange sunlight crosses the floor at my feet.

  I turn to Chimeline and the effulgent. “Both of you, stay here.”

  “Dem?” whispers Chimeline.

  I shake my head. “Right now, it’s safer if you’re away from me. But if any skullmen come for you, run inside and find me.”

  The effulgent puts a hand on her shoulder. “It is alright. I will stand here and pray with you.”

  Turning back to the pocket doors, I push them open wide, and enter the library.

  It takes me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight and bizarre surroundings.

  The immense library stands two stories tall. The ceiling far above is coffered and wooden. Three of the four walls—including the one I just passed through—are entirely covered in bookshelves and hanging ladders.

  A mix of sweet hilma and the mustiness of old tomes hangs in the air.

  Bright, natural light comes from the fourth wall opposite me. Glass windows and doors line the entire space, which lead out onto a brick patio with a formal, rectangular pool. It’s full of clear water, and the sunlight reflects off of it blindingly. At least five skullmen stand guard outside among the potted palms, and a few women tan themselves as they lie on wicker lounges. One exits the pool, squeezing the water from her chestnut hair.

  I turn my gaze back to the library. The waning afternoon sun casts sharp shadows within the room. Bright orange on the dark-brown wood. Long shadows from the dozen or so skullmen standing guard here against the four walls.

  The head footman in the center of the room looks back at me, surprise and annoyance upon his face, before turning back to where he was headed: a lifeless fireplace, fifty feet in the distance. The redskull rests upon a leather chaise there.

  It’s him. Cleanthes. Even though his face is covered in paint and the air between us is not entirely still, I am certain of it.

  As I peer at him, I realize that his skull is not red as his title would indicate—it’s actually pale orange, the same color of his hair. The color of a once-fine metal, rusting away.

  He’s not wearing the black flaxen cloak of voiders. Instead, he’s covered in a red cloak made of thin silk that hints at the hollowness of his body.

  But his voidstone is still draped around his neck.

  I hear the heavy footsteps of Colu as he enters behind me, and the nail-upon-glass sound of claws. The palehounds stride past me, heading toward their master.

  I quickly assess the skullmen surrounding me. They’re all standing against the walls, about ten feet apart from one another, arms at their sides, like statues. The one closest to me is near enough to pick out certain details—he has yellow eyes.

  Another glance behind me. Some of these skullmen are positioned there, flanking the doors that I came through.

  I count fifteen, but they are not my concern.

  Turning back to Cleanthes, I see him get up off of his chaise lounge, his lanky form and hunched shoulders evident underneath his crimson robe. He stands on a black bearskin rug. The dead beast’s jaws are opened wide, facing me as if still alive and roaring.

  I realize then that another girl lays beside him, on her stomach. Her dark Xian skin blends in with the bear fur. She looks to be asleep, an open book at her side. The palehounds walk in small circles, before settling down beside her with groans of pleasure.

  Through the barely-discernible shimmering air, I watch my former student closely, wondering if he is going to reach for his necklace. The moment he does, I will be ready.

  But he doesn’t attempt to grasp it. For a long time, Cleanthes simply stands there with his hands down and palms together, as we regard one another in silence. Outside, I hear the women talking and laughing in the sun, oblivious to what is occurring just on the other side of the thin glass.

  The head footman must either sense that his responsibility has ended, or that bloodshed is soon to follow. He wisely bows and leaves the room, passing through my dynamic membrane without even realizing it.

  “You didn’t follow my orders,” Cleanthes says, his voice deeper than I remembered.

  “He had two stones, Redskull,” Colu answers. “One was hidden.”

  Cleanthes raises an eyebrow.

  “Voidstones are a lot like eyes,” I say, breaking the silence. “One is fine, but two are better.”

  Cleanthes smirks. “Still, it looks like my skullmen did a job on you.”

  “Your skullmen are dead.”

  My words wipe the smirk off his face and cause a stirring around the perimeter of the room.

  He looks to Colu and in my peripheral vision, I see him nod.

  “I never took you for a violent man, Democryos.”

  I say my next words loudly. “I could say the same for you, Cleanthes.”

  For a moment, the redskull is a statue. In the still room, no one makes a sound. Outside, one of the girls screams playfully and jumps into the pool.

  Eventually, he smiles wide without showing his teeth.

  “I was wondering if you remembered me,” he says.

  “Remember you?” I ask, shocked with his reply. “How could I forget? You were one of my best students.”

  “Which you sent into the wilderness to be forgotten.”

  “It was either that, or send you off to war. And you were not forgotten. You were entrusted.”

  “Entrusted with what?”

  The loudness of my voice rises with my anger. “Your gift! The people of Joscaio!”

  A few of the skullmen turn to me. Apparently, people do not raise their voice to the redskull.

  “Trust.” He says the word slowly, like a hissing snake. He brings his hands up to his mouth, palms still together, as if praying to the Unnamed. His fingers are very close to his voidstone. “Once it’s lost, it’s lost for good. Isn’t that right, Democryos? That’s why you come into my home maintaining a dynamic membrane.”

  In a bitter way, I am impressed that he can notice the disturbance in the air from so far away. “No friend of mine is a redskull. And no redskull can be a voider.”

  “But it’s because of you that I am here. You made me who I am today.”

  I shake my head in disappointment. Of course he would blame his addiction on me. That’s what addicts do—they blame others.

  “While at the university, should I have educated you on the negative properties of the hilma plant?”

  He shakes his head. “You have no idea, do you? What happened to Joscaio.”

  I know he is goading me so I stay silent.

  “We exchanged how many letters in the past few years?”

  “At least two.”

  He takes a step forward.

  “It was exactly two. And neither inquired about my wellbeing. They were full of preaching commentary, as if I
were still a student listening to one of your lectures.”

  “I was trying to help you.”

  “No you weren’t. You were trying to stroke your ego. Which is why I never brought up what was happening, since I knew you wouldn’t care. You were too busy with your endeavors for the king to bother with one of your best students. If you had really cared, you would have asked me. Or visited me, in person.”

  “Well, I’m here now.”

  “It’s too late. The damage is already done.”

  He stretches his neck, rotating his head in a circle. “You sent me into a wasp’s nest, master voider. You saved me from one war, yet you placed me squarely in another.”

  He grabs his stone.

  Instantly, I enter the world of the void and move my dynamic membrane forward with urgency. I change the tether, centering it on Cleanthes rather than me. I enlarge it, so that it reaches across the entire room, from the wall of books to the panes of glass, and all the way up to the coffered ceiling, two stories above me.

  It is exhausting and painful work, but I have no other choice. There are too many other things he could do without proper restraint. He could create a rift in the floor, or the ceiling above us. He could cause the windows to shatter and cut us to pieces. And at least a dozen other things I have not thought about.

  As I release the stone, I immediately feel numbness in my fingers, and almost fall.

  The light of the world returns and the sound of the dark wind dies, replaced by the crystalline sound of wind chimes.

  I look to the light.

  Most of the panes of glass have shattered outward, and are still in the process of falling from their iron frames.

  It was probably my action that caused this. A dynamic membrane extending the full width of the room could easily cause a buildup of pressure, if it were moved quickly enough.

  Or perhaps it was some offense that Cleanthes was attempting, until my use of the voidstone collided with his.

  Regardless, everyone in the room is doubly as confused as me.

  The skullmen have all stepped away from the walls, brandishing shortswords, but they’re awaiting orders from their leader before attacking. Colu stands next to me, his machete in his hand. The sunbathers outside have risen, wrapping white towels about their midsections. The palehounds have risen as well, showing red teeth. But the Xian woman is still passed out on the bearskin rug.