Messalina threw her arms around Gereon, showering him with many kisses until the man was forced to extract himself from her embrace.
The woman quickly recovered herself. “You have my deepest gratitude for saving me and my sister. Whatever reward is in our power, we shall happily give it.”
I noticed Berenice visibly tighten her arms around the strange great sword. She took a step back from the group with fear in her eyes.
“If we were men who desired reward, we would not have helped you against those odds,” I said, trying to put the poor girl’s mind at ease. “We shall take you back to the city, and there we shall go our separate ways.”
Gereon nodded, content with this arrangement. Once we ensured their safe return, duty compelled us no more, and we could return to our business.
“But it would be my honor wounded if I did not repay such kindness and bravery!” Messalina cried out. “Do you have a place within Terminus? Come to my house, and we shall give you food and shelter for your stay.”
I looked over at Gereon for his opinion. I had precious few coins to spare, only the pittance Master Rigel had smuggled into my satchel. As for my needs, the lords of Terminus were bound by the law to provide for the couriers and to give them safe passage. Although, seeing the ruin of the city so far, I did not feel it wise to rely upon men I did not know.
“This seems amicable.” Gereon weighed the idea over. “Though fear not, my friend here will need only a few days before he will depart. As for myself, I am only to assist him within the city. We shall not overstay your generosity.”
Messalina clapped. “Excellent! Let us take our leave at once from this wretched place.” And at once, the shadow of her attempted abduction departed from her expression.
Gereon led the way with Messalina shortly behind, probing him with many questions, but he kept himself reserved for the most part. I walked beside the younger sister, who bowed her face low.
I wanted to speak to her, but I did not know what so clearly troubled her mind. Nor could I find some small matter to discuss as we treaded our way down the deserted road. I tried to say something—anything. Instead, it was she who spoke first.
“Your eyes, I have never seen their like before, silver fashioned into a flood of stars. Are you a Seraph?”
“A Seraph? I am not familiar with that word.”
“A spirit, then? I do not know the proper names, but I hear they can assume the form of men and do many great miracles. Did you come to save me?”
“I am sorry to report that I am as much of flesh as you, and I did not intend our encounter. My eyes are dyed with the blood of an Anemoi, a practice carried out by the traditions of my School upon elevation with First Vows.
Berenice fell quiet again, and we walked in the snow for some time. Out of concern, I made sure to watch out for her as we traveled the remaining distance. I had thrown my blue cloak over her shoulders, seeing as her velvet and furred vestments were in a sorry state. I myself could carry on in my own garments with little discomfort.
She wrapped herself tightly in the fabric, with the great sword always held close in her arms. I had long since been tempted to ask of it, but somehow it seemed inappropriate. Regardless, I lost the interest as we pressed on, it was difficult enough trying to navigate through the cluttered cityscape.
The sun made its slow orbit as Gereon led us with Messalina all but hanging off of him. Berenice graciously refused my help whenever I offered it, forcing a smile as she did all she could to keep up. Several times, I pulled Gereon aside to let the poor woman rest. Both of us offered to carry the great sword, but each time Berenice quietly refused.
Our slowed progress did not aggrieve me too much. Indeed, company of any sort was a welcome change after my long weeks of travel before I entered the dark forest. I thought back to those uneventful days, mostly of walking and sleeping. As much as I wish I could fill these pages with endless detail, there is much of travel that is better left for the vagabond to know and his votaries to imagine.
Not every tree has a sylph and not every stone has a face carved underneath it, at least, not for the man who has business to attend to. I shall spare you of those colorless days, those wearisome nights. However, I will note one strangeness.
Now perhaps it was the exhaustion of my recent exile, but I found it unusual that I cannot recall any dreams during that time. In fact, it was a most peculiar period as I suddenly remembered a dream that I thought might’ve been a memory.
…
No sooner than I glanced up, I saw the star of Aldebaran in a black, daylit sky. I had come to the shore of a lake where three scarlet moons shone overhead. I recall this dream specifically because I knelt down, and I scooped up some of the crystal water where it lapped on the shoreline. Now as I have discovered, dreams usually do not permit more than three or four senses. I could touch and see and hear as I would in real life, but then I could neither taste nor smell. And if I took a moment to sniff the air or sip the lakewater, I would lose my vision or hearing. However, contrary to my test, something told me not to imbibe the waters of this strange lake. In the distance, I saw a mirage of a dim, cyclopean city whose name I had heard somewhere before.
There was a man walking along the shore of the lake. He wore gold-kissed robes whose frayed fibers dragged against the pale sand. I thought at first he was far off on the shore, but a few moments later, and he stood no more than two paces away. I could not see his face as a veil was pulled loosely over his fluid features.
He was silent, not acknowledging my presence. I did not know whether he even noticed me until he spoke, raising a clawed finger to the sky. “Do you see the Zobantoa? There, the blood-feeders are taking flight now.”
I tried looking, but I could discern no movement nor creature.
“I cannot,” I answered, still straining for what the stranger was pointing at.
The thing in the gold-kissed cloak exhaled, disappointed at my response. “No one can, for they evade the eye so long as you look for them.”
I noticed I couldn’t quite hear his voice, as if it were neither masculine nor feminine but something else. It was something that spoke the speech of men but was not a man.
“Can you hear the wails of the Tsuphorok?” he asked. “They sound like trumpets made from flayed bone.”
Again I tried to hear, but I could hear nothing. I waited for a long time, listening only to the lapping of the lake.
“I cannot.” I finally gave up.
The stranger nodded at my answer. “I would not have thought so. Their cries are far across the empty sea and not meant for your ears.”
“Why are you asking me of things I cannot see nor hear?” I retorted, annoyed at these questions.
“What would you have done? Being born without eyes to see and ears to hear? Plunge your hands into the soil; would you pull up worms? Would they crawl in your ear and tell you of the things beneath the earth? Or would they flee from you, and you would remain ignorant of that which is under your own feet?”
“Perhaps I shall rip that veil from your face and see who I am speaking to.” I attempted to walk over to the stranger, but he remained the same distance away, just out of arm’s reach.
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The stranger tilted his veiled head, beyond which should’ve snapped a human neck. “I speak a little lie now so that you might listen to the truth. For I will give you new eyes to see the things you cannot see, and I will grant you new ears to hear the things you cannot hear. I desire you as a servant, so that upon your words I may conquer the history of men. Tell me your name, Sirius, and I shall show you these secrets which have been kept from you.”
I was suddenly seized, gripped by a force I could not understand as I felt that I was compelled to speak my name. I knew not what foul magics this stranger commanded, and I tried to bite down on my tongue. I knew something awful would happen if I should tell him. Yet fight as I did, my jaw was slowly pried open by unseen hands. Terrible breath stole into my lungs, and my throat moved of its own accord. But just as my lips would give voice, an ember exploded into a burst of fire from my tongue.
I heard a voice that was not my own speak a different name. The stranger in the gold-kissed cloak shrieked, and with his hand, he drew back the alien world like folds of cloth, fleeing to the darkness behind it.
There I saw a man with a sword and many eyes on his wings do battle with something which writhed in the twilight abyss.
…
I apologize for that long digression. I have written so that you might understand how the dream overcame me as I walked in the ruins of Terminus. Indeed, I cannot fully say when I came to myself again except until I noticed eyes on us from the ruined landscape.
In a panic, I reached for my sword, ready for another encounter. However, Gereon quickly raised his hand to me to quiet my nerves. Peeking out of the ruins were the faces of the dispossessed. Huddled around small fires, they whispered and watched as we passed by. It seemed we finally entered the outskirts of Terminus.
Though thankfully, these people did not live entirely in squalor. The buildings now looked more or less maintained. People went about their business, although none ever seemed to raise their voice or otherwise call out. Even the children, seldom seen, were playing quietly amongst themselves.
I was not unfamiliar with poverty. I encountered it many times during my childhood in Zodiak. The skyways took us past many slums heaped on top of one another, like overgrown roots burrowing into the city. However, the masses I was accustomed to were raucous and vulgar. Men drank themselves to stupor on the road, and every fifth woman sold herself for the nearest coin. This was a new kind of deprivation, one where the cold winds whimpered at your door and wandered down the empty street.
Messalina clung tightly to Gereon’s side as we continued down the thoroughfare. Berenice kept to herself.
Up ahead, I saw the walls of Terminus. And until then, I did not realize there were, in fact, two sets of walls. The first was made from wood and stone and seemingly whatever else the denizens of Terminus found as construction material from the ruins. It was jagged and piled up in an ill manner. The only part of this wall that seemed to be tended was the gate, which sat squarely in the distance. It seemed this divide was primarily to keep the unwanted out of Terminus proper.
The second wall was on the other end of the city, and its immensity was such that it always presented a steel skyline, tattered with rust and decayed metal paneling. But even more impressively, shooting up from this wall was a spire that towered into the sky. Though seeing it on the way, I had never gotten a vantage point to properly appreciate its equally immense size. It hung over the city like the fin of a massive fish.
“I’ve never seen such structures,” I spoke to Gereon.
“That is the Border Wall and Castle Padua. They were built when the Great Ice Plain was but a coast.”
“But why were they built? I recall no histories of war here, and this must’ve been long before the cannibals took root.”
“It was against the winter,” Gereon said. “When men realized this land was growing colder, they built the Border Wall to keep the cold at bay. And it did, for a thousand generations, but that was an age ago. Now, the ashen furnaces within can only heat the city.”
We crossed that gate, the guards giving us little trouble as we entered the modest parts of Terminus. I found Gereon had spoken truly as we passed onto a paved road. The temperature rose considerably, and I saw that were vents in the brickwork which issued a great heat. Not twenty paces into the city, we were all forced to strip our outer garments and carry them in our arms.
I stopped over a vent holding my hands over the billowing air.
“What is it?” Gereon asked, glancing back after he noticed I had slipped behind.
I could help but smile and my voice trembled. “I did not think I would be warm again.”
But what of the city? What shall I recount of this place? Inside the walls, Terminus became almost completely stone save for some choice decoration. I’m told this is because of the fire hazard. The large network of pipes which carried heated air was a danger of combusting any flammable material. It had been the cause of several great fires in the past, and time had since turned necessity into architecture. I discovered grey basalt was preferred for the construction of Terminus’ oblong buildings, which were typically kept low to the ground.
Between these buildings were thrown great tarps, used for conserving the heat. They flapped upward from the hot air and upon them were painted colorful patterns which pleased the eye. In the wealthier streets, these tarps were replaced with glass rotundas held up by stone columns. Such constructions reminded me of the spectral ships with which Astronomers used to sail on the empty sea. Alike, I suppose they were both designed to ward off the harshest of environments. I remember those ships fondly. Their bulbous viewports and golden sails made them look like the Ashrays which frequently swam alongside them, and it saddened me that I would not see such vessels again.
While Terminus was nowhere near as large or bustling as Zodiak, my hopes were lifted seeing civilized life again, quiet and reserved as it was. We passed by a wide marketplace, and I stopped to talk with a vendor. While his meats did not interest me, I saw he had a brooch of a small silver fish on his cloak. Paying with a few coins, I pocketed the trinket and returned to my companions, who were gathered near a sculpture in the center of the square.
“Who is this?” Gereon asked.
Messalina answered happily, she’d been showing the city off to Gereon since we entered. “This is the ruler of Terminus, the Princeps Caracalla. He has been in power since I was but a child.”
I turned to the statue, noting the unusual features. The artist must’ve been a man paid too much money, feeling as though he ought to trade grace for originality. Carved into the bronze was a king with obtuse features whose grinning expression was too small for his face. He knelt like a malformed god of old, holding on oversized arms the crudely depicted masses of Terminus.
“Shall we continue to your house?” I asked, turning to Messalina.
Forgive me, but it had been a long journey. From the forest, to snow-laden ruins, to Terminus itself, I had not rested in a long time. My feet ached beneath me, and I longed for the comfort of a feathered bed.
Messalina did not hesitate to show the way. She ushered us down stone streets of stone men. And Berenice, innocent Berenice, limped after her as well. She always kept pace with Messalina, no matter how hard it was. I did not offer my assistance again—for I knew it would just be refused—but I realized how this woman would not, could not, ever let go of her burden. Thankfully, the house was not too far, and soon, we stood in front of a stately home that was not too ashamed of its age.
It had been proud, once. The large home was impressively three stories high, an uncommon sight in Terminus. Its long columned walls were decorated with exquisite, though faded murals. The doors, one of the few things I saw made of wood, were carved in the visage of great trees. Their branches formed the decoration and the handles. In a previous time, I would’ve considered this a manse. Now, it was the shadow of one.
Waiting at the entrance was a lone dog. It seemed just as old as the house itself, though I knew that this building must’ve stood many times the animal’s life. It was lying in a street gutter. Much of its soft brown fur had fallen out, and its skin was covered with blisters and sores. The dog’s eyes were milky with deep cataracts. At first, I thought the poor creature was dead, but it wagged its tail as Berenice approached and patted it.
Messalina did not care one whit about the animal and proceeded inside, beckoning us forward. Both Gereon and I stayed with Berenice, frustrating the older sister who remained near the doorway.
“Who is this poor animal?” I asked, examining the dying dog.
“It is Argos. My father’s hound. He used to guard this house while my father was away. However, I fear the animal has lost the ability to walk. At least, I have not seen him do so in several weeks.”
“Why not put him out of his misery?” Gereon asked. “This animal is suffering, and he can fulfill his duty no longer. Best kill him quickly.”
Berenice was offended at the notion. “Argos has never desired any other place than at my father’s door. Ever since his master’s death, this dog has patiently guarded my house day and night for nearly ten years. I cannot in good heart remove him now. I tend to his dignity, and I make sure he is well fed.”
The croaking dog licked her fingers weakly.
“You do this beast dishonor.” Gereon kept his gaze away from the animal. “If you do not have the heart to kill it, at least remove this creature from the sight of others. It is a foul thing to be decrepit in the full light of day. Cover his shame.”
“Is it so much better to die in a sequestered bedroom than at your post?” I asked, arguing to the defense of Berenice. “There is no shame in a life well spent, and this dog is wise for remaining here. For he knows the day is coming when he shall return to his master, and he shall receive his just reward for remaining faithful unto death.”
I held out my hand to Argos, and he licked it and wagged his tail. Berenice took a step back at this. I glanced up at her, surprised at her reaction.
She knew the question in my eyes before I spoke it. “It’s just… I’ve never seen him take so kindly to another person.”
“There was once a pup the young children of the Astronomers’ played with. I do not know the ways of many animals, but I have always had a fondness in my heart for these.” I scratched Argos’ ears. “It is said the Potentate scattered among creatures the many aspects of men, so for mankind to better understand themselves. To dogs, he gave loyalty and joy.”
I stood up from Argos and stepped forward. Messalina, who had been watching this all from the doorway, held no compassion for the withered dog. “You are all mistaken. This is a senile animal. No loyalty governs this maddened beast. The only reason it does not bite your hand is because it is too weak to do so. If not for my sister, I would’ve had it thrown to the waste.”