Meyriv watched from his anchor. The dragon left his body leaning against a boulder at the base of the mountains.
The pain didn’t stop, although now that she had left he could no longer feel hers.
The reflections that he had personally caused continued unabated.
Why curse me with this fate worse than death? Why not simply destroy me?
He had begun to notice that if he spent too long withdrawn into his anchor, he would begin to feel a growing numbness, a gnawing restlessness. It did not remove the pain; it made it worse by removing the context of his own physical senses.
Reluctantly, he used his remaining trickle of power to project a frame of his soul from which to control his body.
Even in his reduced state, his power was greater than he had started with.
He stood up and began walking in the direction of his fiefdom.
As he traveled, his mind wandered.
Why did Irotem write me that note? And what happened to him?
Did he and Eirian plan to curse me beforehand?
So much of this didn’t add up.
Am I a pawn in some game of theirs, even now?
Near dusk, mid-stride he was struck with a reflection. He lost balance and collapsed.
The source of the grief was a woman he didn’t know. One of her children had just asked when their father was coming home. He never would.
“Why must I be shackled to the emotions of the weak and petty?” He forced himself to stand and continue walking.
He shouted at the sky: “This doesn’t make my actions any less justified!”
Treacherous tears escaped his featureless silver eyes all the same.
The piercing sorrow continued for hours, eventually quieting.
She must have fallen asleep. Finally.
As his soul was anchored externally, he retained a degree of consciousness even while his body slept. When he had designed his anchor he had only considered the benefits of having extra time to think. Now, however, it meant sleep provided little insulation from the pain.
Some time before sunrise, another reflection washed over him.
This time, a child had woken from a dream of feasting, hunger gnawing. The child wished his mother could get her job at the castle back so they could get enough food again. Why was the baron so mean? What couldn’t his mother have her job back?
Eventually the child fell back to sleep, with hunger and sorrow as company.
Meyriv’s travel was slow. He rarely made it an hour without some new pain assaulting him.
He began to recognize patterns. Evenings were the worst. His tormentors (as he now thought of them), tended to dwell on sorrow when the day was drawing to a close or while trying to sleep.
Sorrow was exhausting, but at least its swelling tones were predictable and typically lasted a few hours at most.
Hunger, on the other hand, was constant. It would only grow until the victim obtained food.
Meyriv neared a town on the edge of his territory.
The road took him past a field where an old couple were pulling weeds.
As he walked nearer, an ache began and steadily grew. As he passed them, he slowed. Their every limb and muscle complained, soreness borne from decades of labor.
The old woman looked up wearily.
And smiled, waving at him.
A stranger.
He shivered.
What madness is hers?
He continued walking, eager to escape their aches.
He reached the town’s palisade wall.
As he entered the gate, he neared a crowded marketplace.
Immediately, a flood of pain washed over him.
Physical injuries, fatigue, hunger, thirst, grief, shame, anger, heartbreak, and loneliness were all present among the crowd; each person carrying their own unique combinations and flavors.
Meyriv turned and fled without looking back.
Never again. Are we naught but vessels of suffering?
He left the road, angling toward the nearest mountains. He was now careful to avoid any signs of habitation he saw.
He searched for the most isolated, inaccessible location he could find.
After a few days, he found a small cave part way up a mountain. It continued several hundred meters until ending in a pit about ten meters deep.
He returned to the entrance, and threaded magic into the stone. He began to work, weakening the stones in the area.
At last the entrance collapsed with a crash.
He retreated to the back of the cave, climbing down into a pit.
He could not die, so here he would wait for the pain to end.
He fell into a deep sleep, writhing and restless.
---
Meyriv was dimly aware that he was dreaming.
He was some sort of beast, a human-sized lizard-like creature with legs more akin to a lion’s, and the claws and teeth of a carnivore.
He was in some kind of large valley, steep craggy mountains looming a few kilometers away in every direction, clouds wreathing the jagged peaks.
He stood motionless, facing the entrance to a cavern. Inside stood another of his kind, more than twice his size; Wicked scars lined the grey scales of its back, evidence of fights long past.
It feasted on the corpse of a deer. As he watched, it scraped the last chunks of meat from the bones with a rasp from its file-like tongue.
It swallowed, then licked its chops. It paused for a moment, then turned its head, locking its eyes on him.
He stood his ground, firmly meeting its ravenous gaze. He saw little intelligence in its stare, only crazed, merciless hunger. It seemed more monster than animal.
After a moment to size him up it sprang forward, claws extended.
He fled, dashing into some nearby trees.
He kept running until long after the sounds of pursuit faded behind him.
Once the adrenaline faded, hunger had set in.
He lay in wait for a wild pig that was sniffing its way down a game trail. He could taste it in the air, delicious meat only a scant meter from becoming his meal.
He remained motionless, imagining that he was urging the creature forward.
Only a few more steps...
At last, it stepped closer. He dashed towards it, claws grasping its back as he delivered a swift bite to its neck, ending its misery before it even knew what had attacked it.
As he ate, he felt...stronger. In his peripheral vision, something about his legs caught his eye. He froze, looking at them closely.
As he ate, his legs were visibly growing. Finishing his meal, he examined himself. From head to tail, he had grown almost a third of a meter since before eating.
Amazing. What kind of creature...then again, this is a dream. Why should it make sense?
He became hungry again a short while later, despite his recent feast. He resumed his hunt for food.
He managed to kill three rabbits, but the morsels did little to satiate him. He continued his hunt, only to emerge from the trees into a field. A few humans were scattered across it, working the soil. His predatory senses urged him to attack them, but he found the thought of hunting humans repulsive, even in a dream.
Although...maybe they keep animals somewhere...
He circled the perimeter of the village, being careful not to attract attention.
As he passed by yet another field, a grey shape dashed from the trees some distance away. It ran at full speed towards one of the humans working in the field. His instincts warned him to run away, but he paused.
If it grows at the same rate I do and with a proportional appetite...It can and will consume every living thing here. How large will it be then, I wonder? The size of a small mountain? And then how long until it hunts me down?
Making his decision, he ran after the larger creature, now as big as a rhinoceros. Shouts sounded from the field as the humans saw the danger.
The humans ran, but they had no hope of matching the creature’s terrifying speed.
Scatter, you fools! Running in a group will only make you easier to catch.
The creature caught up to the slowest of the humans. He saw its shadow fall over him and yelped, jumping to the side. Its claw fell where he had been.
The man’s jump caused him to stumble and fall. The creature sunk its teeth into one of his legs and he screamed in pain.
Just before he reached the creature he jumped, landing on its upper back. He dug his claws in for traction and bit at its spine; The muscles surrounding it were thick and corded, resisting his efforts. The creature growled in irritation and arched its back, trying to shake him off.
He held on with his claws and teeth, knowing that a fight on even ground would see him dead in seconds.
He continued to try to break the creature’s back. The bones and flesh seemed impossibly tough.
It redoubled its efforts to dislodge him, releasing a grating screech from its jaws.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
He was growing tired. He began to see stars at the edges of his vision.
Preoccupied with the fight, it failed to notice the human running toward it.
The human lunged with a pitchfork, aiming for one of the creature’s eyes. At the last second, it noticed him and raised its head. The pitchfork hit it in the jaw and skidded across the scales.
The creature whipped its tail towards the human, catching him in the chest and sending him flying a short distance. He groaned and gasped, trying to recover his breath.
Distracted by the human’s attack, the creature’s muscles twitched and seemed to relax for a split second. His teeth sank in a few centimeters. Cyan-colored blood flowed into his mouth.
The inside of his mouth seemed to soak it in, like parched desert soil drinking in drops of rain.
He began to feel less tired.
It’s quite fortunate that no real creature has metabolism and growth so rapid and efficient. Such a monster could easily spiral out of control.
The human got up again and picked up his pitchfork. He fearlessly ran at the creature again, this time angling the pitchfork for its throat.
That man’s a lunatic! What motivates him to face death like this?
He noticed the injured man was trying to crawl away, temporarily forgotten by the creature.
He’s trying to save the other guy. How very noble. And foolish.
This time, the pitchfork found its mark, sinking into the creature’s throat a short way. It gurgled and growled.
He tightened his jaws’ grip, coaxing them further in. The creature continued to thrash and buck, but it was growing weaker.
He felt something start to give way—
SNAP
The creature shuddered, falling still.
The dream faded into another.
In this dream, he was young again. He was running from some older boys.
He looked behind him; the boys were gone. In their place was a silently advancing figure.
It was like a suit of armor, except the dark grey plating seemed more chitinous than metallic. Its helmet was closed except for two gaping caverns where eyes should have been. The fingers had long, curved claws like daggers.
He tripped and lost his footing.
It caught up to him and unceremoniously ran him through with its claws. He collapsed, bleeding out on the ground.
He looked up, trying to see the face of his killer.
It loomed over him, and suddenly he was the creature, looking down at the corpse of a boy felled by his own hand.
This same dream repeated in an endless, futile loop. Try as he might, the results were always the same.
He could never escape, no matter what choices he made.
Once again, the boy bled at the monster's feet.
A titanic roar echoed, and the ground shook as a silver dragon landed nearby.
From her he felt an aching sorrow.
She inhaled deeply and bathed him in a river of silver flame. His armor disintegrated, leaving him unprotected in the inferno.
He fell onto his knees, screaming as his eyes burned away. The flames condensed and swirled in their place.
The dragon took off, disappearing into the clouds.
The dream began again.
Again, he ran from the creature of grey. Again, it caught up to him. It raised its claws to stab him. And hesitated.
He saw a glimmer of silver in the depths of its gaze. It shuddered and writhed, at last collapsing into a pile of scraps.
Behind where it had been stood Rynisia with a dagger. His dagger. Set in its pommel was his practice stone, pulsing with light.
She breathed a sigh and looked at him, deep green eyes studying him with a questioning glare.
A sharp jolt of pain tore in his mind, disrupting his thoughts like lightning in a peaceful sky.
He awoke with a start. The agony he felt from nearby made him see stars.
He looked around. The cavern had changed drastically. The ceiling had broken, a tall crevice opening from above.
Below, he sensed the one who had fallen.
He reluctantly stumbled in their direction, muscles aching from prolonged disuse.
He found a young woman he didn’t recognize, her face smeared with streaks of dirt and grime. Her legs were twisted at unnatural angles. A small pool of blood had begun to gather on the ground below.
He considered his options.
Killing her would be merciful, perhaps...It’s unlikely she would be able to recover from this even if she were to survive, with her legs shattered as they are...
As he approached she heard something and looked in his direction.
He felt her terror bloom and swell.
He had a flashback of looking up at a monster of gray, ruthless in its apathy.
An unfamiliar sense of kinship crept into his mind.
I feel your pain; I know your state: broken and hopeless.
Perhaps, I would prefer to see you live.
Prove to me that life is more than pain.
He sat on a rock, racking his brain for ideas.
He knew how to repair his own body from damage or destruction. He had a reference point of its healthy state from which to base his reconstruction.
Now, healing someone else...this was tricky.
As the bleeding continued, the girl lost consciousness.
No time...
He studied the energy-record of his own legs' structure and created a copy, scaling the bone and muscle proportions to match hers as closely as possible.
Using the record as a template, he moved the fragments of bone into their proper places and fused them back together.
His available energy was almost gone.
This would have been easy with my old power.
Unable to finish, he put the muscles and tendons back into position as they were and closed the external wounds to stop the bleeding.
She won’t bleed to death, but there’s no way she’s walking out of here any time soon.
At the very least it hurts much less now, for my sake and hers.
He couldn’t feel any reflections at the moment, other than this girl’s.
My curse is not gone, I can still sense her wounds...
No longer distracted by pain, he suddenly noticed his clothes were tattered from decay. His skin was gaunt and pale and his ribs were obvious underneath.
I’ve withered away to little more than skin and bones. My body has been living off magic alone.
How long...does it take dry clothing to rot…?
He was uncertain.
He knew it did not happen quickly...
Long enough, perhaps, for the pain he’d caused to fade away...or for those he’d hurt to age and die.
He cast these unsettling thoughts to the back of his mind.
---
SANAE
She woke up to her legs itching.
She tentatively touched her legs. They no longer seemed broken, although they still hurt.
The last thing she could remember after hitting the ground was being approached by someone or something with eyes of reflective silver, eerily glowing in the darkness.
She tried to stand. She yelped as pain lanced through her legs; She collapsed, gasping.
“That was inadvisable.” A parched, raspy voice spoke from nearby.
“I only had energy to mend the bones. The muscles and sinew remain damaged.”
Sanae looked around; a short distance away she could see herself reflected in the glowing silver eyes.
“Who are you?” She asked
“A genius? A tyrant? A fool? It depends on who you ask...”
His manner of speaking was archaic, as if he’d learned his vocabulary from dusty treatises. Her mother had sold more than a few to wealthy collectors and scholars.
She slowly sat up, careful not to upset her wounds.
“Why did you heal me?”
The eyes slowly blinked.
“A sentiment.”
“Do you give real answers, or just vague generalizations?!”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to help me escape, or did you just heal me to have someone to torment?”
“You will not get far with your injuries.”
“You don’t say.”
“I can do no more to heal you at present; my energy will take time to recover.
You, however, have power to spare if you can access it.”
“So I’ve been told. What no one has explained is how.”
“It is...difficult to put into words. I can show you, perhaps.”
The darkness was broken by a feeble glow from a stone dagger the man was holding. She gasped as she got a good look at him. He was frail and ghost-like, his cheeks sunken and his clothes rotten and tattered.
“Focus on this. See the structure. The energy is given form as light.”
Oh, why didn’t you just say so?
“I still don’t understand. What structure?”
He sighed in frustration.
Sanae thought to herself:
How long has it been since he’s spoken to others? Maybe he’s been in this cave for a long time.
“Don’t panic.” The man rasped abruptly.
The light went out.
She felt an itch on the fringes of her consciousness.
And then a sharp pain as a mental window was opened. She could ‘see’ into the alien expanse of his mind. Rather than words, thoughts flowed through. Many of them were incomprehensibly abstract.
She saw many disjointed memories of emotion. Many of them were of pain. So much pain. Even the memories brought tears to her eyes.
He showed her impressions of energy, vague concepts of ‘wellsprings’ and ‘pulling’. He pushed a fragment of energy towards her as an example.
She studied the energy fragment for a time. And finally, something clicked.
In her soul’s expanse, she became aware of a transparent wall through which she could sense a pool of shimmering energy. It had always been there; only now she saw it for what it was.
She reached through the wall and drew energy through.
Now what?
Like water in her hands, the energy quickly escaped her grasp, radiating outward from her. She glowed slightly and the air crackled nearby, smelling of ozone.
An unusual emotion seeped from the window of thought. Was that jealousy?
Now he tried to show her...images? No, more than images. Concepts of the nature of her wounds and how to repair them. He wanted her to shape the energy to…’trace’ an example he showed her?
She tried following the instructions, but they were incredibly complex and nuanced. The order had to be exact and the timing had to be precise.
She managed only to make her legs glow brightly for a few seconds.
He sighed yet again in frustration.
He communicated another concept; he wanted her to give him energy so that he could do it.
Fine, why didn’t we do this from the start?
She reached through the barrier and pulled as much energy as she could, and sent it hurtling through the soul-window.
He yelled in pain and surprise.
The window snapped closed.
Her legs began to itch intensely, but shortly the feeling stopped.
An acrid smell reached her. She looked over. The man was lying on his back, his body and clothes smoking. A stream of drool escaped his lips.
No! What did I do?
“Are you alright?!”
He coughed twice and shuddered. And then burst into dry, raspy laughter.
That’s it. I’m trapped underground with a half-dead crazy-man.
Her legs were no longer hurting. She stood up, trembling slightly.
So he had succeeded after all.
The man slowly stood, leaning against a rock for balance.
“Up there...who did you escape from?”
“I don’t—how did you know I escaped from someone?”
“Sharing magic tends to take thoughts, memories and emotions with it. Thus, I gleaned a vague impression of your experiences in the past day or so.”
“Why didn’t you warn me before I did it?”
“Would it have changed anything? Would you rather not be healed?”
“No. I guess not.”
“So, who are they?”
“I don’t know who they are. They were going to keep me in order to harvest my power. I hardly believed it existed until you showed me.”
He began to mutter under his breath
“...foolish..to what end?...hmm.”
He appeared deep in thought.
The silence stretched long.
He finally spoke:
“What year is it?”
She told him.
He inhaled sharply, which turned into a fit of coughing.
After catching his breath he shrilly exclaimed “How?!” to no-one in particular.
He slowly lowered himself to the ground and sat holding his head in his hands, mumbling incoherently.
She politely waited a few minutes, but her patience wore thin.
“I’m sorry for your distress, and I’m grateful for the healing...but I’m concerned that my captors may be searching for me. Do you know a way out of here?”