AMETHYST 5.6: LIKE AMBER
“If observing a phenomenon is itself a phenomenon, then the chain of regress extends infinitely into this, its summation. All of existence is concerned with this process: the taking of infinity, and saying, ‘Here in me in this moment of time it finds its end.’ Whether or not we make our choices, we are doomed to feel as though we have made them.”
– from ‘The Syth Codex’, 19:347-351
“Noooooooo –“
“– oooooooooo –“
“– oooooooooooo…”
There was time, between the first and second peals of the bell on the far side of the courtyard.
“Help –“
There was even a little time between the second and third.
“– me –“
After the third –
Timesnatcher. I noticed. He almost moved. Almost rode it.
Not for us. The rest of us. No motion. Not now.
No now.
The wave of old, old magic. It had what we did not.
Time.
Flooding the city. Stilling us.
Chronomancy.
Time… thought.
Slowed. Stopped. No heartbeat. Trapped in a moment. Like slumber.
Amber.
Above, skies changed.
Listened.
To the yells.
“– oooooooooooooooooo…”
“– ooooooooooooooooooooo…”
Contextless sound. Meaningless emotion.
As skies flicked –
Grey.
Black.
No white behind purple. Only black.
There was –
None. No time to take.
No thought to interpret.
Time was being given.
Hours of it.
And we emerged into the other side, still shouting as one, like a chorus of frightened lambs bleating as night falls and the predators draw in.
For that was what had happened.
It was night, and we were in Zadhal. It had even started snowing.
Even as I came back to myself, there was a sudden catching-up of mental sounds, time reasserting itself. Everything that had been spoken while the clock tower’s spell spilled out over us was being replayed, all at once. It was even more meaningless than the slowed sounds, but it was deafening.
As the lethargy that had afflicted us passed by, the same was happening to our enemies. I had no idea how adept all my fellow champions were at using their senses in dark, misty conditions – I could see well-enough, considering that it was nethermist. The wights were recovering. We only had seconds until they’d be on the attack again. Now it was night they would soon be reinforced by things from beyond the courtyard, vampires and any number of other night-dwellers who’d woken hours ago to find this section of the city time-locked…
And the avatar of Vaahn –
The godling was coming out of his chronomantic reverie, seeming almost to vibrate –
Winterprince and Mountainslide hadn’t restarted their attacks yet; within a single lunge the abomination could reach down to take firm hold of the diviner and druids attached to his knee, transform them into unliving matter –
But the babble of Glimmermere overrode the other psychic voices. Hers was the last cry, and –
“Now!” she shrilled –
I didn’t even get to see them get loose; it happened in the very instant we came back to ourselves. Timesnatcher or Killstop was there, and then they were there no longer – the druids, the dwarf diviner.
They vanished. No blur of colours, nothing. Just gone. Snow on the air.
Glancefall vanished.
Acting on sheer instinct, praying to Yune that I was right, I dismissed the remnants of my eldritches.
And I vanished.
As if in retribution against the city that had defied his supremacy, Timesnatcher took us all up one by one, gathering us into his maelstrom of power, soaring with us above the towers.
It cost me a moment to reorient myself; one second I was there in the courtyard awaiting death or worse at the hands of some freshly-awakened vampires – then I was nothing, a space with no location, only destination, a non-being awaiting rebirth –
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And I stumbled, cringing, feeling the effects of the Winter Door as it loomed before me.
No weave, but no undead either. Just an expanse of blue-lit snow, silent but for the portal’s constant churning.
To my left, Fang and Glimmermere were lowering a moaning Dimdweller to the ground – they positioned themselves on either side of his shoulder, deliberately not touching the cursed hand itself, and carefully pulled…
I didn’t have to watch; the wet, sickening sounds were enough.
To my right, the priest, the enchanters, Mountainslide, Shallowlie, Starsight –
The next instant, Timesnatcher appeared, one arm around Direcrown’s shoulders, the other resting on the massive spur of ice that was Winterprince’s bicep.
Killstop circled around from out of nowhere, pushing the wheelbarrow.
I cast her a sidelong glance.
“What?” she said, sounding injured. “I promised I’d return it.”
I grinned. “Thanks – I wouldn’t mind a lift, actually…” I flexed my nearly-numb wings, felt the snowflakes drifting through them on their way to the ground.
“Don’t you dare! Moving quickly grants a bit of strength but you have no idea how tiring it gets pushing this thing… If the guy was a bit younger I’d have made him run too.”
“So that’s it?” Glancefall was asking, looking up at the wall of blue flame that was our way home. So much more beautiful, more arcane, in the darkness. “We can go home now?”
Especially here, so close to stepping back into Mund, back into the Box in Treetown, the idea of giving up was incredibly tempting.
No less unconscionable than it had been at any earlier point, though.
I could see the tells on the lips of Timesnatcher and in the posture of Fangmoon. The druidess’s green-glowing hands still clasped the now-unconscious dwarf, but her masked face was turned towards the rest of us.
I wasn’t done here, and I wasn’t alone.
“You never had to stay,” Timesnatcher said.
“What does that mean?” Winterprince rumbled. “We’re all going back, Timesnatcher!”
“But we can’t,” Glimmermere said, also looking up at the Door. “We’re not all here…”
“Shadowcloud…” Starsight’s voice had a musing quality.
“Our work here is done,” Direcrown said. “Tell them what we did, Feychilde.”
I shook my head. “You’ve got it backwards, if I’m not much mistaken.”
“Now is the time, sorcerers.” Timesnatcher had the curiosity back in his voice. “For whatever reason, I still can’t see what you did at the Green Tower.”
“That’s why I have to go back.”
“Back?” Direcrown hissed. “Fool! There is no going back; there is no need for us to go back – a tactical retreat to the Box –“
“You’re wrong. Think about it. We’ve already left it for hours.” I shook my head. “It could take days, and if Timesnatcher can’t see it, that means undead with divination powers are going to interact with its destiny, right? So the Prince or some archlich or super-vampire or something is going to go there, and when they find out what we’ve done –”
“Going there would destroy them!” Direcrown said. “You are clever, boy, but not clever-enough to understand the limits of your cleverness! If you wish instruction, I would deign to teach you…”
If he’d said something like that to me an hour ago I’d have thought it a veiled threat or insult, but I felt I knew enough of him to judge now that he was being sincere.
I shook my head again.
“… then continue in your delusions. Those who will not learn cannot be taught.”
“You said yourself that liches could have been there.”
“Before we knotted the cords, boy! But now the runes are active –”
“All the more reason for them to act this minute, before it grows to such intensity they’re all doomed! It might not be strong-enough to destroy something like an avatar, ever, never mind right now…”
It was Direcrown’s turn to retort, but he just looked away towards the south-west, the wrecked tower district…
Was he reconsidering it?
I followed his gaze, and I realised I could easily make it out now, the smear of verdant light seeping around the intervening buildings. There was no other colour to be found here – the sky was overcast, a gloomy pall of winter clouds.
Timesnatcher had been following the conversation, looking back and forth between us as we argued, a small smile on his face.
“I’m glad we’re all on the same page again,” he said warmly.
“Wait – what?” Spirit blurted. “Just because you suddenly get it, doesn’t mean the rest of us can follow! Unless you want us to start readin’ it in your heads…”
I smiled at Timesnatcher, then quickly explained what we’d found, what we’d done.
When I was finished, the others looked between me and Direcrown in silence, until –
“I wanna go hom,” Shallowlie said in a small mind-voice. “I doan won to leaf you, buh… Dis is de end o’ my tam here. Pliz fogeef me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Timesnatcher replied. Several of the others said words to the same effect; whether because they genuinely meant it or because they meant to go with her and were trying to assuage their own guilt, I was unsure.
I wasn’t sure whether I agreed, but I was hardly going to start a fight, here, now. Not like this.
“I want to go home,” Glimmermere said, “but I… I don’t want to go without him.”
“We’ll do everything we can to find him,” Fangmoon said.
“You’re staying?” the elven-looking druidess asked her.
Fangmoon nodded. “For Leafcloak.”
“She… she would want you to live, you know.”
Fangmoon’s shoulders shook, a brief spasm, and then it was gone.
“I know,” she replied, so quiet it was almost a non-sound. “But what she wanted most of all – she told me once –”
“A death that mattered,” Timesnatcher finished. “Yes. I too will stay.“
“If any of you even thinks about telling Shadow what I said…” Glimmermere muttered.
Winterprince, who’d been unusually reluctant to get involved since the start of the discussion, suddenly straightened.
The icy lips split upon a single word. “No.”
“I’m getting really sick of your drop,” I muttered under my breath.
I stared at him, daring him to make plain the fact he heard me; but he didn’t give any indication.
“Yes,” Timesnatcher replied, still smiling. “You can do what you want, Winterprince, but we’re here and we’re going to see it through. I’ll go with Feychilde.”
“I’m out,” Killstop said.
I raised my eyebrows behind the mask.
“Someone with sense,” the ice elemental grated.
“Ouch!” Killstop winced, rolling her shoulders. “Now, you just take that back!”
“But you need a wizard,” Mountainslide huffed through his beard; he was crouched beside Dimdweller opposite the druidesses.
“I think someone forgot to get a good night’s sleep last night,” Glimmermere said to him.
The dwarven wizard smiled wanly at her, still breathing heavily from all his non-stop energy-expenditure, keeping the effigy at bay.
Winterprince, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease inside his cold casing.
Does he even breathe? I wondered. He had to breathe – he had to draw the air through the ice somehow, surely? But I’d never seen him looking over-exerted – I’d never seen him look anything, really, except detached…
In stark, bleeding contrast to his actual character.
“I get it,” Winterprince said at last. “Fine. I’ll stay, if you’re staying. You need a wizard.” He waved an icicle gauntlet. “The others can keep watch on the other side.”
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief again.
Timesnatcher’s smile merely broadened, and he coasted through the air towards Spiritwhisper. “A wizard… And an enchanter… best young enchanter in a generation…” he wheedled in his smooth, deep voice.
Spirit looked towards me, mute appeal in the slightly-parted lips, the desperate gaze –
“I’m sorry, man, but he’s right.” I sighed. “We need you. Zadhal needs you.” I looked across at the priest of Kultemeren. “A time of ending and unmaking, right?”
The old man nodded, and rubbed his knuckles where he’d right-hooked a god in the nose. “The breaking of the spell. But I cannot come with you, champion, for this is not my path. I promised you I’d help.” The priest looked towards Killstop. “Have faith that I have fulfilled my oath. I must away to Mund with the others.”
There was a smug, almost-mischievous smile on his lined face. Every bit of his previous terror, previous fervour, had been wiped away now he was on the threshold of returning home. He sounded just like any other civilian again.
I’d never before wanted to punch a holy-man – especially one whom I’d just watched punch a god – but this was a day of firsts.
* * *