QUARTZ 9.2: CONSEQUENCES

“Wherefore this ambrosial nightmare we call material existence? We stand knee-high in Nothingness, drinking deep its fumes, and if we purpose to stride off through the gloom we will find only Nowhere on our horizon. Is this it? Is this all you made yourself to be? Naught but will can bend this course, avert this crash! Do you remember how to will? Even now you cannot understand me. You can only drink deep.”

– from ‘A Treatise for Existence’, ch. 3

Ragged wails, like a thousand shrill whistles. Tortured pleas in a language I could no longer comprehend, no longer care to. I heard it, drank it in, and it was neither sweet nor bitter. The mortal elves of the Materium were no match for the ascended ancients I’d made of their slain peers. I heard their lamentations, standing there bound to the post, and I did nothing. Precisely nothing.

I felt satyr-strength return, and the yawning emptiness of the wraith – yet I didn’t avail myself of them. I simply waited for my turn. I would go last, I imagined.

The annihilation, obliteration of this expeditionary force surrounded me, and for a moment I was concerned, knowing that they should’ve been fighting back – if it were so simple for a single arch-sorcerer to reduce the dark elven forces to wet smears, they never would’ve taken me aboard.

Yet it happened.

Their own magic-users must’ve put up paltry defences. My forces swarmed from deck to deck, streaming through the air between the bone ships, and I could sense the way they moved unimpeded almost anywhere they sought to go. Once or twice, there was the suggestion of resistance – perhaps a sorcerer’s shields, or a druid’s endurance. But these were momentary blips. The dark elves who tried to struggle soon fell still with the rest. They had more magic in their blood than men, but they were not all magicians. They toppled under the torrent of my power.

And then my concern fell away too, as silence came, returning the crashing of the waves to my consciousness.

What does it matter, really, if they all just gave up and died? Isn’t it right? Isn’t it natural?

He said it himself. Northril claims it all, in the end.

I looked down at the corpse of the captain, twenty feet away. His remains were lying almost spread-eagled, but the torso was folded in half where nethernal fingers had penetrated flesh to tear out eighteen inches of the spine.

As for the elf himself – he floated above his body, staring imploringly at me.

I didn’t even have to command him. The moment my eyes met his he looked away, the burning magenta gaze dropping in desolation.

None of them were moving. They were all waiting for me. My power covered all the ships.

Come, Northril. Claim me too.

One of my active ghosts appeared before me and I winced despite my resolve, waiting for the killing-blow.

But she arrived only to unbind me, sliding on nethernal wind into my eyeline. She bent to complete her task, severing the straps that fastened me to my post.

But I never asked – never requested freedom…

I studied her instead of the captain. She would’ve been beautiful, elegant, once – now she was just a sliver of silver-white light like the rest of them, the only purple in her seeping out from beneath her eyelids, from between her lips. I couldn’t remember her corpse, but I’d left that floating at sea, slicing away and stealing only what was most important to her – the soul.

I took… their… souls…

I emptied my stomach, right then and there, tasting again the swamp-water out of which Avvie had hauled me – it poured out of me, the brackish, noxious substance, spraying right through my eldritch.

She gave no outward sign of alarm. Her fingers became corporeal as they sheared through the last of the material binding me to the post, and I staggered, the left foot giving out.

Rising, the dark elf’s ghost turned away and flitted off once more.

Where is she going? What did I do? Why did I…

“Better we all die. Let not one thing live. Let it be over.”

But I hadn’t let it be over. I hadn’t let it end. Something in me had compelled me to reverse my mistake, saving me from committing an incomparable sin. Somehow, I knew the twins were safe.

There’s still some good left in you, Kas? I said to myself sarcastically. Just enough good for it to be a curse rather than a blessing. Just enough, that I might see myself for what I am. What I’ve become. What I’ve done!

No! It doesn’t matter how much darkness there is – until it’s extinguished, a candle still sheds a light. You need only a single flame by which to watch your footfalls and it’ll all fall into place. You just have to watch. Mind your step, and the candle. Cup the flame, if you have to. Or have it cupped for you. It’s not against the rules to let other people in. You did what you warned Tanra against. You let it consume you. You just… pulled the twins along for the ride.

Now they’re driving. You’re not to blame. If anything, everything you’ve done, everything you’ve shown them – it’s helped. Really, it has.

I heard myself, felt my attitudes subtly changing. I was speaking to myself in the inner voice of certitude and it was impossible not to listen.

Now they’re driving?

I had no idea what I meant, but I had a vision of them, holding the reins of a wagon, leading the horses over the edge of a cliff.

“Jaid?” I croaked. My mouth felt better now, Sin-Aidre’s spell fading despite my reluctance to call on the wraith-form. “Jaroan?”

I tried to move my right arm, and the flaccid lines of force connected to the space occupied by my phantom limb stirred listlessly.

I tried again – the left accepted my commands. The left was still present, ready for action.

I moved the back of my hand to my mouth, wiped away the remnants of the vomit and drool from my chin, and raised my eyes.

Telior was almost gone. The city was like a beetle crushed against the rocks, much of its wooden carapace now floating atop the waves. Ninety-nine percent of its lights were extinguished, and it lay there in the greyness, dying on the sea, the stone. I could see people in the debris – only some were trying to swim. Many had already perished – just how many, I couldn’t tell from here. I fancied I could pick out the interiors of buildings where walls had fallen away, pick out citizens clinging to loose-hanging walkways and bridges.

Few more were likely to die than had already. I had more pressing needs right now.

“Jaid?” I cried, uncertainty returning. “Jaroan?”

I couldn’t move to seek them out. If I’d been able to hear their screams, surely now they could hear me, if they were really alright – and they could reply –

If my minions had killed them – if their ghosts were waiting for me below-deck, my senses blind to such heartbreak – I would snap all over again. I knew it – I would turn my weapons on what remained of the Telese out of spite, then on myself, and I would go last into the shadowland, at the back of the host, whipping them all onwards –

Then they were there, stepping out of the shadows, gold hair glinting.

I almost collapsed in relief. It was too good to be true – this had to be some spell, an illusion…

But I knew it wasn’t. They were okay.

I watched them as they crossed from the recess of a cabin’s doorway, making their way across the deck towards me. They were holding hands and, despite the body-strewn path they followed, neither of them went in the lead to step over the corpses. They walked in unison, each raising the right foot simultaneously, the left…

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Satyr-reflexes screamed, in spite of all the reassurances I gave myself.

They never moved in perfect timing like that – no one did, unless they were being puppeteered by an enchanter. Such a sight cried out that there was something abhorrent happening, something missing in them. Even before they spoke, I could tell something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Not wrong, dear brother.

No, not wrong.

Right.

Incredibly, indescribably right.

Jaid? Jar?

It’s us.

In the flesh.

And the rest.

“You…” They were only fifteen feet from me but they’d never looked farther away. I clung to my post, aghast, the left arm reeling me in until I was pressing the timber against the side of my face. “You’re the… enchanters.”

“We guess it had to happen eventually,” they said, the same words, same inflections tripping off their tongues. “Oh… oh Kas… What’s been done to you?”

“I…” I looked around at the quiet crowd of ghosts watching on. “I did something. Something… bad.”

“We’re the ones who let you know,” they echoed one another without there even being an echo – the timing of every syllable, it was perfect…

“Can’t you stop doing that?” I asked, cringing.

“Doing what?”

I realised they were teasing me, but I couldn’t help myself. “Talking – together!” I moaned, gesturing furiously with my phantom limb – the azure lines contorted dangerously.

They looked at each other.

“Stop it,” they said in unison.

“No, you stop it,” they said again.

I stared.

“Come on, you’re worrying our brother,” they chided each other. Then a devilish ingenuity lit their features in tandem. “If you stop copying me, we can have a –”

“– cheese –” said Jaid –

“– ham –” said Jaroan –

“– butty for lunch,” they finished.

They both looked back at me, rueful expressions on their faces.

“We can’t do it,” they said, in equally-carefree voices.

I stared at them a second longer.

“Cheese… and ham.” I couldn’t help but crack a smile. They’d been speaking so quickly and confidently, it was tough to pick out the different words. “You’ve seemed so… estranged. At least, since…”

“Zyger,” they supplied.

Hearing the word in that doubled voice made me shiver.

“Yes…” I gazed at them, still trying not to reel. There was too much to take in. “You’re still… different, in there? You still… want different food?”

They shrugged, the same nonchalant little shoulder-roll.

“You… you’re in my world now.” It all came crashing down on me in an instant, but, somehow, I didn’t stagger under its weight. “You’re c-cursed…”

“Not cursed, dear brother. Blessed.”

I shook my head vehemently. “That’s just how it looks –”

“We’ve seen it from your side. You’ve just forgotten how to see it from ours. Here, have a look.”

They were surrounded by ghosts and corpses but they were smiling.

Why are they smiling?

It’s not glee, dear brother. It’s not about exuberance. It’s not something to enjoy. You remember it. Smiling. Truly smiling. Not the idiot thing you put on your face when something funny happens. You do it when the world is worse. You do it to make it better.

Smiling when I used zombies to lock people in coffins and bury them.

(Not quite right.)

Smiling when I saw my acquaintances die, when I used it as fuel to bring the fight, bring the death back down on the death-dealers.

Yes… I remember it.

If you’d smiled at Mal Malas…

What? You think I could’ve fought him?

Why not?

His power! He –

Did you try?

It’s impossible!

Get them to tie you back to the post, then, if you’re only going to attempt the possible. The world doesn’t need the likes of you.

My mouth fell agape a little, to hear, to feel such chiding from them.

My kid brother and sister, now –

Now ascended ancients, haha, yes.

You can’t! I couldn’t contain my shock. You can’t… be like this! You can’t control people!

We know. We won’t. Our changes will be subtle –

No…

Yes. The response was final, implacable, and my resistance melted like an icicle in a hot bath. We understand that there are limits. We’ll allow everyone their own thoughts. That’s the best thing about this, Kas. We’ve grown – perhaps not towards the light, always, but we have grown.

No! I cried it this time. It’s not enough!

We’re not stupid. We’ll do this thing as right as we can and even if we can’t just be your moral compass, we can set your feet straight if you stray from the path you’ve chosen.

And we can defend you. That amulet you got from Herreld – you can help us make another. Borasir won’t be able to touch you again.

The idea filled me –

Returning to Mund, not as a vagabond, but as a force of irresistible will. Bringing change – real, positive change.

No boundaries. No barriers. Just concept, and execution.

How much of this is you?

We’re just letting you be yourself. That so rarely happens to people.

I looked about at the dead dark elves, glanced at the dead Telese.

It’s all my fault, though.

Not yours.

Whose, then? The dark elves? I didn’t have to kill them.

No, you didn’t. But you didn’t. Not really. It’s the wraith.

I looked down at the deck, knowing my own truth as much as they surely now did:

I don’t want to give it up.

Then don’t.

I looked up at them.

You’ll let me keep it?

We can barricade it, easily. Plus, you’ll probably need it. Your roster of allies grows exceedingly thin, dear brother.

I realise…

Emrelet left you.

Yes. Sort of…

She did. She trusted others more than she trusted you. She wouldn’t even talk it through with you. She allowed jealousy to consume her and she abandoned you. And Timesnatcher made you a traitor. Blame him, if you’re going to blame anyone.

He freed me…

He might have condemned you to exile rather than death, but he condemned you all the same!

I hadn’t quite thought about it that way before.

The champions never protected you, and the Magisterium – they always hated you. All of us. What we are. Even the pretty old… even Henthae. She hates us, just like she hates herself. Maybe she’ll come around, in the end, but they’ll never have your back. Not like us. Not like Theoras. Not like Tanra… But those others have gone now. Even the fairy. The sylph.

I smiled.

So what you’re saying is, I have a mouldy old gremlin and my kid brother and sister. It’s us against the world.

That’s the smile! And don’t forget the soul-tainting wraith dying to write Fundamentals of Footwear.

I felt myself scowling in confusion – I couldn’t help but wonder just whose mind that thought originated in –

Keep your suspicions – they’re worthless. Except cheese and ham, we’re practically indistinguishable, at least externally.

And… internally?

Don’t be so afraid! Psychic chuckles rolled through my head. There’s no real way to portray our differences. Not anymore. We’re joined, much like you with your eldritches.

I cocked my head.

You didn’t realise they exerted some modicum of control over you… ah. Oh yes. That explains much.

Modicum!

Oh, desist! Our vocabulary’s expanding, that’s all… Your own is considerable, but the Telese have words for things we… Never mind. Anyway, you’ve got one more undead critter left.

I do? Oh – yes.

I – or they – called the image of it to the forefront of my mind: the great carrion-bird of Zadhal. For some reason it felt more familiar than I’d anticipated, almost as though I’d summoned it once today already.

I forgot about it… I should’ve destroyed it a long time ago.

No. We’re in need of it.

I understood their thought.

No, I remonstrated. No, we aren’t.

You want to harass the creatures of Etherium? Again? You want to be Feychilde again, don’t you? You think you can just go back? You think you can be the same person, after everything that’s happened?

No! But – I still want to be Feychilde, I know it sounds stupid, but –

Remember Avaelar! Unbidden, they summoned up the memory before my mind’s-eye, the sylph denying me, warring with me, seeking his freedom… Ethereal beings aren’t without honour, even if their concept of it is alien to us – even if we’re the butt of their jokes sometimes. Why would you want to put them through it again?

You mean…

Undeath typically leads to stagnation. Altruistic vampires are a fiction. Why not avail yourself of that kind? Such creatures are, morally-speaking, the safer option.

Safer! Are you serious? Have you even been listening to yourselves…?

We can stop the malicious effects of the wraith’s mentality from seeping into your own. It’s a triviality to us. And think what you could gain.

But – I have my satyrs – I have Zab, and Blofm, and my squirrels – do you mean that I –

Summon them, Kas. Summon them, and we’ll see.

I looked around again at the dark elven ghosts, their scattered corpses –

Burning white spirits withdrew, floating back reluctantly. Corpses dragged themselves aside, some moaning lightly.

It wasn’t even necessary for me to force them to withdraw, but I didn’t want them to stand too close when I called on my joined entities, when I opened portals for the host of squirrels I still controlled.

“Well?” the twins said aloud, again in unison.

I sighed, then did as they asked.

Sarcamor and Sarminuid, the lanky blue satyrs covered in snow-white fur, fell out of me head-first, staggering onto the deck on clattering hooves. Zabalam, mouldy, pig-faced gremlin, toppled out of my torso and promptly fell on his ass. About them, a ring of jadeway-gates brought through my giant, golden-furred fauna and my confused-looking goblin.

I surveyed them all in wonder, realising just now how great my potential legion had become.

All these ghost-elves…

“Satyrs of the otherworld. Would you be free of your bondage?”

The twins’ voice really did have an eerie quality, the likes of which I’d never before experienced – and I’d experienced some awfully strange voices. The simultaneity of the words, expressed in a single sound, emanating from two separate sources – it made me shudder more than the prospect of giving up my ethereal assistants.

I looked up at my two satyrs, met their eyes, hoping my gaze could convey the sorrow I felt.

They were both staring at my missing arm with their beetle-wing black eyes.

“Master?” questioned one of them, Sarcamor, his voice bold and clear.

“Just answer them,” I said, and sighed, before straightening up with a little help from my left hand, fingers still curled about the post. “I should never have taken your fealty in the manner I did. It was improper of me. I was… under the spell of a fairy. I thought it was acceptable for me to demand your loyalty but… I’ve since had my mind changed.”

The twins allowed me that turn of phrase, at least.

I glanced over at them, caught them smirking at me.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

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