Broken Earth

by C M Blackwood

  “I am not unhappy,” said Aurelus. “I am only in doubt.”

  Arolah came up to his great seat, and laid a soft hand upon his. “Why do you doubt?” she asked. “You keep forgetting, Aurelus – you have no stake in this matter. Your hand should not stir them, and you should never have gone down to them as you did! You know much better than that.”

  “I have done so much already,” he said. “I guided them; I strengthened them; I laid my very hands upon them, to keep them from harm! How can I take my eyes from them now?”

  “You have done your part,” she said softly. “And now it is done; and now it is over. It is over for you. Come away with me from this place, and we will do as we should. There are other businesses to sort through, you know. All are waiting upon your instructions.”

  Aurelus ignored her words, and waved her away from him. “Go and direct them,” he said. “I cannot leave.”

  With a sigh, Arolah departed from the chamber. Aurelus knew that he did wrong. He knew that He was watching; and that his doubts would not go unnoticed. But there was still so much to build! He could not abandon them now.

  And so, with great tears in his eyes, and a violent trembling in his mighty hands, he set to work upon the foundation. His tears slipped down through the floor on which he stood, and fell down onto the earth as a cold winter rain.

  XXIX: Férglag

  As he watched the lost one rejoin her friends at Eredor, all of the Underworld was subject to a flaring of flames, which covered the walls and licked the ceilings, roaring fiercely across the cold waters of the lakes and the rivers. That watery passage which carried damned souls to their eternity was most always free of fire, and was frigid as the breath of death. But in that moment it began to boil.

  Every voice that was able – and that was not bound in a punishment of silence, with the tongue cut at the root for the speaking of words which displeased Férglag – cried out at the pain of the flames. They sighed gratefully when his ire subsided, and the fire dissipated once again.

  He sat for many long hours in his great dwelling, brooding over what took place over the rim of his dominion. Ever and anon, he heard the screams of one who had become caught in the heat of his anger. It covered the whole of the land, from its long, dark tunnels to the barren wastelands in which his souls toiled.

  The lost one was not so very lost anymore. She had found her companions; and who knew what would happen now? The Princess’ wrath was sparked against the movement of his hand, and he was beginning to doubt that he would gain her for his own.

  It had been Aerca’s duty to keep the lost one from breaking free of the Lumaria. She had been sentenced to remain with them, until her transformation was complete.

  But Aerca had failed him. Though he was loath to do it – for he truly did feel a fondness for her of sorts – he felt that he had no choice. He rose with a great sigh, and left the dark chamber alone to the night.

  He arrived an instant later at a place quite bright, filled with lamps and shining with much golden light. He suspected that she had been anticipating his visit. No doubt, she had sat up quite as long as she could; but now she lay asleep on her bed, and dreamt the dreams of one who awaits her punishment.

  “Wake up, my child,” said he.

  She started awake in a moment, squirming instinctively away from him. As she became more aware of herself, she relaxed her face as best she could, into a fearless expression; but she had already shown herself, and he was indeed very disappointed with her.

  “We have much to speak about,” he said simply, pulling up a chair beside the table. He watched her carefully, eager to hear what she would say to him.

  “Master,” she began slowly, rising from the bed and coming, ever so cautiously, towards him. “I am sure that you are already aware of what has happened; and I assure you, that I will not shirk the responsibility of it. I had my suspicions, and I let them fall. I should have gone to inspect the situation for myself.”

  “Yes, you should have,” said he, studying her face with great interest. He had been sure that she would try to find the fault with Zana; he had been certain that she would use the Lumarian’s misconduct as a way to abdicate herself from blame. But he had been wrong – and he was wise enough to admit the fact.

  He was no longer so sure of what he would do.

  “I am so sorry, Master,” she said, falling down on her knees before him. “I have failed you.”

  Feeling that surge of emotion which he so often felt at the sight of her, he suddenly suspected that he would let her punishment fall – just as she had done with Zana’s own.

  Now, at the first, he had wanted Zana for his own. Her wisdom went far beyond that of the Sorceress, and she had wiles which Aerca could not have even begun to comprehend. But she had refused him, just as he had suspected she would. And yet . . . perhaps it had done for the best. In Zana, he would not have found the devoted servant which knelt now before him. She feared him, she may even have detested him – but she was loyal to him. For what more could he ask?

  “Rise up, my child,” he said to her.

  She got slowly to her feet, the exhaustion which seemed to have taken hold of her limbs creeping slowly into her face. The skin beneath her eyes was bruised by hours of wakefulness, and there was a twitch that persisted at the left side of her mouth. Even if she was afraid, her expression was too slack to betray the fact.

  “You have done wrong,” he continued, gesturing for her to take a seat beside him. “But it is nothing that cannot be undone.”

  She raised her eyes to him, awaiting his orders.

  “You must retrieve the Auren from Eredor,” he said. “You must bring her to Grénha, and keep her here until she has been changed.” He looked deeply into her eyes, and she gazed back, transfixed. “You must not fail me now. You must do as I tell you, and you must not make any mistakes. You know how I love you; and I want not to have to raise my hand against you.”

  She nodded, having heard all he said, but not having yet understood the peril into which they plunged her. It would dawn on her with the rising of the sun, when he was already gone.

  “Do you understand what you must do?” he asked, reaching out to lay a hand atop her head.

  She bowed her head, and closed her eyes. “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  “Very well,” he said, rising from his seat. “I will give you no deadline, and shall trust your judgment once more. You will do right by me, yes?”

  “Of course, Master.”

  Back inside his own abode, he walked long up and down the black halls of obsidian. His footsteps echoed in his ears; he closed his eyes and saw that familiar face in his mind’s eye, frowning down upon him in judgment and scorn.

  “Not this time, brother,” he said aloud, speaking to the emptiness of those lonely halls. “You shall not stand in my way. Fly back to your perch; and give my best to our sister.”

  He laughed derisively, feeling his spirit rush up once again to beat against his breast. He laughed, stridently and wildly, as he retired to his chamber. Flames rose up all about him, and cracked against the walls.

  Again he heard the screaming from the lands beyond; and he smiled to himself as he shut his door upon them.

  XXX: A Convergence of Interests

  Least connected of all to that struggle, which spanned from the reaches of the sky to the earth far below, there were two who moved themselves nearer to it, unknowingly, mile by mile. Their missions were identical; and in this, perhaps they would gain some semblance of strength from one another. They both sought, against all reason and odds, a lost sister. Neither knew where they would find her, and neither knew even so much as how to begin. But their wills were fierce – and they would not admit that they had failed, until they had scoured every patch of land they were able, until their legs and hearts gave out, and they fell down dead at the last.

  As of yet, however, neither had come anywhere near to the boundaries of death. They pressed on with little pause, and were bot
h headed, indeed, for the very same place. Yet there were two differences in this. The first was in the fact that one was aware of his location; while the other was not. It would still be some miles before her questions, identical at each place she took the time to halt, were finally answered for the best.

  The second difference was that, as he knew beforehand that there were none at home, the first of the seekers held no hope whatever that he would find what he sought at his destination. He went only because he knew not where else to go, at least not yet; and until he decided on this, he would settle for a search of possible clues at the last known location of his own sister. The second seeker had learnt, from one of those with whom she had inquired, the known residence of her own sister; and she made haste towards that place, having no reason at all to think that her sister would not be there.

  And so, one with a heart full of hope and anxiety, and the other with one containing nothing but grim determination, the two travellers hurried with equal speed towards that place. Though one would arrive before the other, he would postpone his departure until after his fellow searcher had come. This was nothing but a stroke of luck, of course; but it was one which would soften the blow of the other’s disappointment, when she learnt that her sister was much farther from her than she had realised.

  ~

  After a brief rest at Helfadt, Helena made her way quite as briskly as she was able into the thriving city-centres of Hekken. At any place which looked even halfway reputable, she inquired with the owner whether they had any knowledge at all of one Heidi Bastian. It grew harder to speak it, with each time she uttered the name; and she soon found that her throat had become greatly constricted, and that she was stumbling and stuttering over the simple words of her questions. The cold, clean truth of it was that she had no idea where Heidi could be. She had not seen her since Morsheyd, and upon hearing from her for the last time by letter, had been offered the address of a post to which people were known to make use of for miles and miles about.

  And so she continued on, though her sincere belief was that, even if she did manage to find her sister, she would want absolutely nothing to do with her. And yet this was not about her! It was about Heidi. Whatever happened, she would find her. No matter how much it hurt, and no matter how badly damaged her own view of herself became (though it was not so very great, even now), she would finish what she had set out to do. She could not imagine, now, returning to Andrew. She could do nothing but go on, and could hope for nothing but the best. Granted, it may have been hoping for too much; but what was the point of any less?

  Not having a horse of her own, she travelled mostly with the trading carts, allowed on board by merchants who thought of things only as a matter of how much could be gained or lost. True, nothing could be gained from her – but how much could be lost? She seemed innocent enough, and was surely not the thieving type. Or, at least, this much was said to her by the first merchant who let her ride along. Franklin Barch was his name, and he was a terribly annoying little fellow. She considered herself both lucky and cursed to have flagged him down just outside Helfadt, thus obtaining a continuous mode of travel all the way to Esedd. There, she found another merchant who was not much better, in terms of personality, than Barch. She could not even recall his name; for all after Barch were so dreadfully similar, their faces blended one into the other, along with their names.

  It seemed a very long journey. She knew not even where she was, when she climbed down from her fourth cart, which would turn back North after its business in Egan’s Square. She went all around that place, questioning merchant after merchant, and artisan after artisan.

  It was with great luck, and a good deal of disbelief, that she finally struck gold. She came across a small shop on the West side of the Square, with the name “Skyler’s Kilns” etched over the doorway. It was one of the only trades she could see, that possessed actually a roof and walls.

  She hoped, as she did each and every time, for a bit of luck. Of course, she did not expect for the shop owner to tell her that he knew Heidi personally; or that she had once worked for him, and now with him. Something of a partner, he ended up telling her. How could she have ever hoped for such good fortune?

  “Excuse me, sir,” she said, walking up to the counter, behind which a very large man was scribbling away in a red book. He must have been nearly seven feet tall. His muscles bulged in rather an intimidatory fashion beneath his shirt, somewhat yellowed at the armpits. He looked up, but said nothing; and she asked, “Might I put a question to you?”

  The fact that he did not say “no” seemed a cue to continue. “I am looking for someone,” she said. “Have you ever heard of a woman named Heidi Bastian?”

  Prepared as she was for another failure, a curt nod from the giant man set her heart flipping about like a fish. “Worked for me, she did,” said he. “Fired the kilns. She quit with that, though, when she moved off. Delivers things to me now.”

  “Do you know where she lives?” asked Helena, who seemed all of a sudden to be having a great deal of trouble breathing.

  He nodded. “Sure. Lives down in Delvare, with a few other girlies.” He stopped, and scratched his head. “Haven’t heard from her in a time, though. Last time I wrote with an order, she never wrote back.”

  Not yet understanding the magnitude of this latter part of his statement, Helena felt nothing but gratitude. “Thank you so very much,” she said, turning at once to exit the shop.

  “Hey now,” said the man. “When you see her, tell her John Skyler is looking for her. I want that copper.”

  Back out in the dark, frost-filled air, Helena made quickly for a large cart which she saw set up before a tiny stand, the wares of which were invisible to her from where she stood. She went to the tall, thin man who was unloading the cart, and spoke a loud “Hello” to get his attention.

  He looked over at her, and wiped a few drops of perspiration from his moustache. “What ye want, missus?”

  “I would like to know where you’re headed.”

  “Why ye want to know that?”

  “I need to get to Delvare.”

  He leaned up against the cart, seeming thoughtful. “Well,” he said, “I ain’t going that way tonight. Got to finish up here, an’ then I’m going up North a-ways. In a couple o’ days, I’ll turn back South – but I got to attend first to my business.”

  At that time of night, there were no other carts in sight. So Helena frowned, and asked, “Could I get there on foot?”

  The man shook his head. “Much too far for walking, I fear. Many hard miles from here to there.”

  “I see,” said Helena. After such a brilliant stroke of luck, she felt suddenly defeated.

  “Now, don’t get down, missus,” said the man. “I won’t take too long up the road there. Then we can turn back, an’ I’ll take ye right to Delvare. Ye’ll be there in a few days, no problem. Sound all right to ye?”

  If he had not been a lone man in a cart, it certainly would have. All the others with whom Helena had travelled had had either women or children with them; and this had served to put her mind at rest. But alone with this one? She was not so sure.

  Just then, someone stepped down from the cart. It was a short, stocky woman, who looked as though she had only just woken up. She stood there beside the man, looking so much his opposite that Helena felt she might laugh. She looked from Helena, to the man beside the cart, and her expression was one of displeasure.

  “Who’s this, then?” she asked, peering more closely at Helena.

  “Girl who needs a ride,” said the man. “Ye mind it, Bethy?”

  The woman looked Helena up and down, and then moved a little closer to her husband. What she could have thought that Helena would want with him, what with his rotten teeth and horse-like face, was a puzzle within itself.

  “I s’pose,” she said to him. And then, to Helena: “Just ye get on up in the cart, then. We’ll be off in a little.”

  Helena went obediently up the wooden ste
ps, and sat quietly in the cart until the man and the woman returned. The man took his place behind the reins, and the woman sat down on the bench opposite Helena, looking upon her with narrowed eyes.

  “Where ye headed?” she asked.

  “Delvare,” answered Helena.

  “We ain’t going to Delvare.”

  “It’s all right, Bethy,” said the man. “She knows it’ll take a few days.”

  The woman fell silent, then – but continued to stare at Helena as if she were some sort of strange insect, squashed into the bottom of her boot and utterly identifiable.

  Helena only sat back in her corner of the cart, looking out at the passing fields, and doing her very best to ignore the woman’s persistent gaze.

  “Look a’ that, Bethy,” said the man. “Seems that a cow’s tipped over, right in the middle o’ the road.”

  “Drive over it if ye have to,” said the ever-pleasant Bethy. “Just keep yer eyes on the road, afore ye drop us in a ditch. We can’t afford to go losing another wheel.”

  ~

  After collecting his beloved steed from the barn, David set out on the road which would lead him to the boundary of Portentia. Really, Lormar was not a part of it. It was considered land of Hekken, whose primary city lay farther to the North, and was called Sirabo. The King of Hekken dwelt there, and ruled the land from Lormar to Arden, the outlying city of Hekken. It was situated some three hundred miles away. (Remás, from which Helena Bastian had run only hours before, was a tiny town positioned somewhere betwixt the cities of Sirabo and Helfadt. As David set out with his horse, Wingspeed, she was only just soliciting a place in the cart of Franklin Barch; and would in a few miles more be focused on nothing but the attempt to ignore the sound of his raucous singing.)