The crash of a pail startled Glim out of his stupor.

He threw the tank door open. Ryn looked up at him in confusion.

“You’re in the, uh, flower petal tank,” he said in answer to her unspoken question.

“I’m… alive?”

“As far as I know.”

“Nice work.”

Ryn tried to stand, but groaned.

“I’ll help.”

Glim lifted her to her feet. She leaned on him and hobbled over to the table, where she lay face down. A necklace fell from her ripped undertunic, which she quickly stowed out of sight.

“Well, you might as well take a look.”

Three vicious slashes ran from her right shoulder, across her spine, and down the middle of her back. They seemed swollen.

“There’s still some blood. I don’t know what else to tell you. You have three claw marks in your back. Long ones.”

“I’d have a lot more if you hadn’t killed those hyaenas. You did it! You plyed essentiæ!”

“Not quickly enough.” Glim’s lip wavered.

“You faced three hyaenas and survived. That’s not luck, Glim. I’m proud of you. Now let’s get moving.”

He waited for the tremble of fear to settle before speaking again. “What do we do now?”

“Its a race. No one can save me now except Willow.”

“But, I thought—the maggot tank—”

“—it can’t sew my spine back together, and you can’t either. Bandage me up and get us back to Wohn-Grab as quickly as possible. Over in that cabinet. Look for thin pads and a roll of cloth tape.”

“I already have them. I looked while you were in the tank. And here’s a fresh tunic.”

Ryn smiled wryly. “We don’t have time for that. Grab those bandages and get me to the shuttle.”

“The what-tle?”

“The closet we rode here in. It’s called a shuttle.”

She hobbled down the corridor, leaning heavily on Glim. She sank onto her cot, panting heavily. Glim closed the door.

“Top button, then press that one three times. Now slam the lever.”

The brass chamber lurched and started moving.

Ryn lay among tatters of bloody linen. Maggots squirmed from her clothes and dropped onto the floor. Gashes ran down her back, and her face had a ghastly white tint to it. Especially around her mouth. She looked at Glim.

“You look terrible,” she told him.

Glim smiled at the joke. “Let’s get you patched up.”

He lay the bandages along the claw marks and started wrapping Ryn’s torso with the tape. It ran out just as he tied off the bandages below her ribs.

“My cloak?”

“It’s—”

“—I don’t care. I feel better with it on.”

He draped the cleanest part of her cloak he could find over her. Ryn sighed appreciatively.

“How long until we reach home?”

“At this speed? A few days.”

Glim settled into his seat. “Damn!” he said, snapping his fingers.

“What?”

“I should have brought the pail. This is going to get awkward.”

Ryn smiled. “Lift up your seat cushion.”

The seat unhinged. Below it, Glim saw a dark hole that led to a pipe. It had a button next to it, which he pressed. A stream of water hit him in the face, which caused Ryn to laugh.

“What is that?”

“It’s for cleaning your rear end when you’re done ‘filling the pail.’”

“You must be joking.”

“I’m not. The Elderkin thought of everything. Even privacy. There are curtains in the walls you can unroll if you want.”

“How did they do all of this?”

“They had a lot more resources than we do now. Knowledge. Infrastructure. Essentiæ.”

“What’s an in-fro-structure?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“They had blacksmiths, and artisans. Lore. Healers and scribes. A supply of metal and other things. Connected structures. Lots of help.”

“I’m glad they made bedpans in here. At least we’ll have water.”

“You’re an Algist. You have water any time you need. Ice melts, you know. Anyway, check that panel in the wall.”

By the time she’d given him the tour, Glim had discovered hidden water spouts, blankets, and even games.

But no food.

Glim had enough for perhaps three days at most. Ryn had less.

“I thought we’d replenish along the way,” she said. “Until…”

“What were those things, anyway? The hyaenas?”

“They used to roam the grasslands. Before everything froze over.” Ryn hissed with pain. “If they’re here now, something’s gone wrong. Probably pipes. It’s always the damn pipes getting misaligned. They probably followed the scent of the bananas and ended up cold and hungry. If I survive this I’m going to find that busted filter for sure.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

“Whatever you say.”

------- ~~~ *** ~~~ ------

The passage of time left no detectable traces. Without windows, with the steady half-light and hum of the chamber, Glim had no way to know how long they’d been going. He had only his hunger and the rhythm of Ryn’s breath to guide him.

Even those cues were no longer reliable. For one, Glim’s appetite had all but vanished.

Probably because of the second thing. Ryn’s breath had no rhythm.

Ryn wheezed, taking shallow breaths. Glim held her burning forehead and tried to cool it for the dozenth time. It never seemed to last. She’d start wheezing again soon after.

Glim looked at her wounds. They’d swollen even more, and were starting to weep yellow.

“Glim,” she whispered.

“I’m here.”

“Where else… would you be?”

Glim laughed, but without much mirth.

“I want you to know. It is okay. There’s no way you could have fought off an entire pack.”

“There is a way. I could have paid more attention in my lessons. Learned more. Thought faster.”

“That’s not… how you learn. Not from a lesson. You’re a do-er.”

Tears welled up in Glim’s eyes.

“Don’t blame past Glim for what he didn’t know. Or future Glim for what he does know.” Her voice grew faint. “Only… you Glim. Here and now.” She tried to cough, but it sounded thin. “The Glim in front of me is a fighter. With a heart. And a… a mind of his own.”

She squeezed his hand weakly.

“Am I wrong? Do you… do you feel like your feet are on?”

“Yes. My feet are on.”

“On a path?”

Glim felt a sob lodge in his throat. “Thanks to you, Ryn.”

She let go of his hand and fumbled at her neck. She tugged, ineffectively, at something. Glim followed the path of her hand and felt a cool medallion. He eased it out from between her chest and the cot cushion. She took it from him and pressed it to her lips.

“At least I…”

“You what, Ryn?”

“At least I die fulfilled.”

With a shuddering breath, she let the necklace fall from her hand.

------- ~~~ *** ~~~ ------

When he opened the shuttle door, morning light streamed in from the glass house. Glim stepped from it cautiously, sword in hand.

The sound startled a woman sitting in a chair directly across from him. Between her gray cloak and dark skin, he hadn’t even seen her in the shadow of the wall. She leapt to her feet, holding a staff at the ready, and whistled sharply.

Two others ran from the glass house, slings in hand, also in gray cloaks. One woman, tall, thin, blonde, and ageless, looked at him calmly. The other, maybe ten years older than Glim, had curly black hair that bounced when she walked. She seemed strong, like she could take Garrick in a fight without much trouble.

The four stood, frozen, weapons drawn, staring at each other in suspicion.

“I’m Glim,” he said, voice taut with humor that could not possibly be less humorous. Just as Ryn had said: people sometimes smile when they’re angry. “And you are…?” The three women exchanged a look, but said nothing. “… simple gardeners, I presume? From a tiny village?”

The eldest woman slipped her sling into a pocket and straightened up. “Sometimes it takes a village.”

“Somewhere remote?” Glim asked. “On the other side of Æronthrall?”

“Everybody knows each other. Looks out for one another.”

“Maybe I’ll see it someday.”

The youngest of the women, the one who’d been keeping guard, tensed up and gasped at Glim’s words.

“Wouldn’t that be something,” the blonde woman Glim guessed to be the leader replied, her voice even.

Glim sheathed his sword and held his hand out. Ryn’s amulet rested in his palm. A circle with nine squiggles arranged in three different symbols. The three women winced and craned their necks to look behind him.

“She died fulfilled, she told me. I hope that’s some comfort.”

The three pulled similar medallions from their tunics and kissed them.

Glim pressed Ryn’s necklace into the leader’s hand. He held his palm against hers, allowing her to feel the anger coursing through him, making his hands unsteady. He looked directly into her unwavering eyes.

Time to test her intentions. Just as Ryn had instructed.

“Keep your secrets, or don’t. Just stay out of my way.” Her eyes flickered with the alarm he’d been expecting.

So. They wanted him contained to these mountains just as Ryn had. The wind had not trusted her, and Glim still had no idea if that mistrust was warranted. He had only his own belief to guide him. The truths he’d been able to scrape together.

Glim believed that Ryn truly wanted to help him. He believed that Master Willow truly did not, but would do so anyway out of some compulsion Glim didn’t understand. He believed the truth of his own essentiæ had become warped. He believed his father could only help him so much, and that Glim was now well and truly alone.

So much for beliefs and truths. Glim did know one thing for certain: he’d take ownership of his training, learn as much as he could, and make Ryn’s death mean something. He had the perfect test in mind.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going south.”

“Where are you going then, Glim?” she said, taking the amulet.

“North.” The three women shared an inscrutable look. Glim laughed at their maddening devotion to secrecy. His laugh sounded hollow.

“I’ll go see about filter three. Once I’m certain I can handle whatever awaits me there.”

He wiped Ryn’s blood from his hands, gripped his sword hilt for reassurance, then shoved past the women to face his homecoming.

THE END

of The Spell Keeper Chronicles, Book Zero