“I’m here! I hear you!” replied Dirt, finally able to see Socks’s mind. The pup was only twenty or thirty paces away, judging from its brightness.
-I can’t see in. I am going to smash this tower,- said Socks, mental voice frantic.
“Don’t!” thought Dirt. His face stung outrageously, and he hoped he hadn’t burned himself too badly. It felt like he had. Dirt held the ball of flame between himself and Caeso, and the corpse scowled in subdued frustration. The room was back to its normal shape and color, no spikes or blood anywhere except on Caeso’s sharp teeth, and Dirt was still holding his knife. It hadn’t turned to sand after all.
“Light and fire without a circle or tools? I’m impressed,” said Caeso, lips closing over his teeth as his eyes flickered all throughout the room. Dirt supposed he was upset his enchantment hadn’t worked. What had Apkallu called it? A seeming?
Dirt eyed the stairs up, considering fleeing that way, but the door was closed and might be sealed. Best not get trapped finding out. No, the window was his best shot. He could jump out, but the shutters were closed, and he wasn’t sure they could open in a hurry. -Socks, on the first basement floor, there’s a window. Go around and see if you can open it. If you can, I’ll come out that way.-
“What is happening in there?”
-I’m fighting that corpse. It’s someone I used to know.-
“I don’t know what rumors you’ve heard, but fire will not destroy me,” said Caeso, waving his hand dismissively at the ball of flame Dirt had used to burn his face.
Dirt pushed the ball of flame a little closer to him anyway, just to see what he’d do. The corpse stuck his hand into the flame and left it there, never breaking eye contact. Caeso’s eye lit up again with fervor as he focused.
Moans and screams of pain echoed up from the lower floor. “I will keep you alive, but I will not keep you unharmed,” said Caeso. Dirt’s fire vanished.
Except it didn’t. Dirt could still feel the mana connection. That knowledge, coupled with the fearsome pain on Dirt’s face, ruined the encroaching seeming and kept him fully awake. The voices ceased and the flame reappeared right where he left it.
Caeso screamed in anger and lunged at Dirt again, claws first. Dirt was ready and slashed wildly, forcing the corpse to dodge or lose his fingers. Dirt circled until Caeso was no longer in between him and the window.
“You are troublesome prey,” said Caeso, circling. What life was left in his face showing him weighing his next mode of attack. “Servant, grab him.”
The homunculus shambled up the stairs at great speed, and Dirt backed up to try to keep them both in his view at once. Caeso was too clever for that, of course, and moved the other direction.
Servant ran full tilt at Dirt, but Dirt grabbed its ankle with his mind and tripped it. The puppet collapsed.
Finally, Socks found the window and ripped the shutters right off the building with a loud crash. An instant later, Dirt was whisked out the opening faster than he could blink and deposited safely behind Socks’s rear paw. His relief was so strong he almost chuckled. Despite the cold, he found himself sweating.
Then Caeso shot out the window, stopping in midair. Socks stretched him out to look at, giving him the appearance of having been crucified. Whatever that meant. Dirt wasn’t sure.
“What by Pastorus Irrumator are you?!” shouted Caeso, struggling furiously against his mental restraints. The corpse might be able to shrug off anything Dirt could do, but unless he could lift Socks up, he wasn’t getting away now.
Sparks gathered around Caeso and in the instant before Socks annihilated him, Dirt yelled, “Wait!”
Socks turned back to glance at Dirt, yellow eyes flaring in the darkness. The pup had his hackles up and a low growl in his throat, which was all the more intimidating because he was growing so fast.
“Wait,” said Dirt again. “I need to ask him more questions.”
-I can’t talk to him because he doesn’t have a mind.-
“Don’t worry, we’ll kill him. But I have some things I need to know first,” replied Dirt mentally. He stepped out from behind Socks, patting his friend’s front leg as he passed, just to reassure him. He didn’t get too close, though, lest Socks decide it wasn’t worth the risk and put the entire situation to rest.
Caeso calmed down, dead eyes watching. “You have quite the pet, Dirt,” he said, voice still full of venom.
“I’m the pet, not him,” said Dirt. “Except that we’re friends, not pets.”
“Where did you find such a marvelous beast?”
“He found me. Listen. You’re not going to be able to hunt me anymore, not with him around, so you may as well stop struggling,” said Dirt.
The moon was up, but it was only half full, so Dirt summoned another light. Caeso looked at the light, then stared at Dirt a moment longer. His eyes rested on the wolf briefly and darted away. Finally he relaxed, predatory hunger draining from his face. He looked fully human again, like he had when he came up the stairs, except for a few small slices in his clothing from Dirt’s knife. No visible trace remained of the cut in his neck. If anything, he looked even paler in the silver moonlight, despite the yellowish tint of Dirt’s magical candle.
“You look a bit like him, you know. Like Avitus, my old friend. That must be why you kept asking about him. How many generations are between the two of you?” said Caeso, the richness of his natural voice returning. It seemed rather like humanity was a mask he put on, not the truth of himself that emerged when the rest was stripped away.
“What do you mean?” asked Dirt.
“You must be his descendant. Your hair is the same color as his, that streaky brown. Although he never wore his so long. The eyes are like his, and the jaw. The nose you must have gotten from your mother. His was larger,” said Caeso, voice calm now, like an uncle sitting in the garden, halfway into a glass of wine. “I hardly remember those days anymore. A strange thing happens when you live a long time, little boy. Your early memories grow brighter, while more recent ones fade into insignificance. And then, as they weary years plod on, the early memories no longer matter as they once did.”
“Did you spend a lot of time with him? What was he like?” asked Dirt.
-Why don’t you tell him you are Avitus?- asked Socks. Still wary, still taut as a metal wire. But only watching now. Not aching to kill.
“Because I want to know things he won’t tell me otherwise. I want to know what I was like,” replied Dirt. “I’ll tell him if it seems like it’ll help.”
Caeso, tilted his head back slightly, eyes twitching when he realized he was allowed that tiny bit of motion. He quickly resumed looking thoughtful. “He was a complicated man, our Avitus. Brilliant. Focused. Rather obnoxious, if I must be honest. We had many of the same tutors, and although he was two years younger, I was always scrambling to keep up.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Was he friendly? Did people like him?” asked Dirt. He almost regretted asking.
“Friendly is not the word for it. He always gave the orders, even when he was young. Others followed him naturally, and he knew it. Even I. It is hard to explain to someone who never met him, but he had a sincerity to everything he did and said that made him hard to contradict. And he was disciplined—disciplined like a knot in new rope. Like a sharpened gladius. He was every inch an Ancient. Was he friendly? No, not in the way you might be thinking. He was a leader. But never was he unfriendly.”
-That only sounds partially like you,- said Socks. -Either he remembers poorly, or he is lying.-
“Or I was a different person then, living a different life,” said Dirt. Still, it hurt him somehow, thinking he might not have been friendly.
-Maybe that is only how you treated him,- suggested Socks. Well, that made sense. It was a possibility.
Caeso twisted a bit in Socks’s mental grasp and said, “I know I am beaten. I would be more comfortable if you let me down. I will not resist.”
Socks gave a low growl, deep and loud, but brief.
“That sounds like a no. Is the wolf the one holding me?” asked Caeso.
“Yep, it’s him. Okay, actually, Socks, will you lick my cheek? The cold air is making it sting worse. Here, and my hand. He cut it,” said Dirt, aloud. He turned his head and held his hand up.
Socks noticed for the first time and snarled viciously at Caeso. He inched forward, and Dirt could tell he was straining to resist killing him.
“Just a little longer, Socks. Please,” asked Dirt mentally.
-What if it leaves a big scar on your face? What did he do to you?- said Socks. The lengthy questions didn’t match the fury the pup felt.
“Just hurry up and lick it,” said Dirt.
Socks angrily licked Dirt’s head, lots of rapid little licks while he stared knives into Caeso. At first Dirt’s face stung fiercely and made him flinch away, but Socks held him in place with his mind until it was all done.
“Remarkable,” said Caeso, not elaborating.
Dirt’s wet hair got cold and wiping it with his sleeve didn’t help. Caeso said, “Avitus would never have let his hair grow so long, by the way. He kept it short and you look like you haven’t had a trim in half a year.”
“I haven’t,” said Dirt.
“It’s getting in your eyes. Get a haircut, child. You look ridiculous,” said Caeso, putting amusement into his voice. It wasn’t completely convincing. Dirt noticed him scanning the scenery.
“Did Avitus ever have a mate? Or a wife, I mean? And children?” asked Dirt. He immediately regretted it.
“Are you not proof he did? What a strange question. Yes, he had a wife, and four of his children survived to adulthood. He neglected them all, and it was a common joke in the Ancient City how they resented him,” said Caeso. “For most of his life, his true children were the Collegium. He had little patience for anything else.”
“Oh,” said Dirt, looking down. He’d felt lingering guilt about breaking the world, and now he had another dollop to add.
-I do not believe that,- said Socks. -You would not neglect your brood. Stop asking things that will make you sad, little Dirt. Those people are gone and you don’t need to miss them. And whatever you did was a long time ago and you don’t need to feel bad about it now.-
“What if he’s right, though? What if I was the kind of person who would do that? Maybe I don’t know myself like I thought I did,” replied Dirt.
Socks turned his gaze from Caeso to Dirt, giving his friend his full attention. -That is wrong, little Dirt. Little human, my best friend. He is just one human, and lived far away from you, if he lived here. The things humans think and say are not always right.-
“You two are communicating somehow, aren’t you? Tell me. You must tell me how you do it,” said Caeso. “No, before you open your mouth, do not deny it. I can tell just by watching you.”
“Yes, we are,” said Dirt.
“What are you talking about?”
Dirt didn’t answer, though, and neither did Socks.
Socks said, -Listen, Dirt. I want to say something to you. You should think that you died, not that you survived. This is a new life. A different one. If you did bad things in your past life, they went away when you died. When you became alive again and got up, you were a new person. If you insist on bringing things from the old life into the new one, then only bring the good things, or the things that make you wise and strong. Let the bad things stay dead.- The pup’s tone of voice was all a jumble; lingering anger at Caeso mixed with his indignation that Dirt might have to suffer, and coming through it all, very strongly, pity and concern for his little friend.
Dirt knew Socks made a very good point; a convincing one, almost. But he couldn’t find the strength to adopt it fully. Perhaps it was his sense of duty, or perhaps guilt simply wasn’t that easy to talk away, but the past had one claw in him that he couldn’t pluck out.
Socks huffed in feigned annoyance, which was actually deep pity.
“It looks like quite a conversation,” said Caeso.
Dirt said, “All right, I have just one last question. No more questions about Avitus’s life. Do you know much about how he broke the world? What did he do, exactly? What happened?” He braced himself for more answers he didn’t want to hear.
“You know enough to ask the question, but none of the details? Is that it? Strange to see what portions of history are not preserved. Very well. I will tell you what I remember, which is less than all I once knew, and less still than the truth of what Avitus did. He never shared the details until he saw the outcome.
“I remember that he wanted to bring the gods into the world, the silly fool, as if they could not come on their own if they wanted. He was researching new sigils for a grand enchantment along those lines. I was sure he would be struck dead before he completed anything so blasphemous, or succeed. I would have given even odds to either outcome.
“What did happen was a terrible noise, heard everywhere in the empire. A metallic roar? A grinding moan? It is impossible to describe. One person in three simply fell dead on the spot. Just fell right over! Standing one moment plugging his ears, and then laying dead the next. Then came the earthquakes. If my tower wasn’t enchanted it would have fallen. And after the earthquakes, fires. Things would burst into flame all on their own. A tree, a home. A robe and the hapless man wearing it.
“Storms brought floods and tornadoes. Winds toppled spires and devastated crops. The world itself unraveled. I was sure the entirety of the work of the gods was about to collapse back into primordial nothingness. Magic ceased to function consistently. Millions died. Countless lives were lost. But things settled down. The rules of the world righted themselves again. The years after were hard, though peaceful. Crops failed, supply lines dried up. Everything changed so quickly! A few short decades, and it was as if the Sunset Empire had never existed.
“All prayers and sacrifices to the gods went unanswered after that. By the gods, at least. Other things began to answer sometimes, but they rewarded with curses instead of succor. Piety ceased to be, after only a few generations.
“The survivors knew, somehow. I think he must have publicized it before he made the attempt. That poor wretch’s name became the vilest curse. I know Prisca hates him, as do Quintus and Faustus. Do you remember them? Or have you met them, I mean to say? But me, I do not hate him. I would never have gotten my gift if Avitus hadn’t opened the way. I do not miss him, but I do not hate him. I found a higher power than even the gods, and he was simply a tool it used to manifest itself.”
Dirt quietly asked, “The purple smoke monster?”
Caeso laughed, and this time it sounded sincere. “Again you surprise me! Have you seen a portion of her, then? The mother of the third way? Or is that a story you heard somewhere?”
“I saw it myself. I guess now I know what happened to you,” said Dirt. He hung his head. “Go ahead, Socks.”
The sparks reappeared, swirling as they gathered around Caeso. Dirt stepped back.
The corpse sensed what was about to happen and shot a frenzied stare at Socks, eyes fierce and penetrating again. Then to Dirt. He felt the edges of a seeming claw at his consciousness, that half-dream of imagination turning real.
The sparks all went out. Caeso pulled off his tunic and dropped to the ground, leaving it hanging there in the air. His chest was bare now, hairless, unlike Ignasi’s or Hèctors, skin pale and stretched, muscles thin with hunger. Above his right breast, near the shoulder, was a large purple bruise, the same color as the smoke monster, which pulsed and squirmed in the moonlight.
“Wait! Socks, don’t drop him! It’s not real!” shouted Dirt mentally, but it was too late. The confused pup believed his eyes instead of his mental fingers, and thought the corpse had gotten away. He released his mental hold, and they watched as the tunic dropped, right back over Caeso’s body.
Caeso waved, and left at a mad sprint, faster than an echo, instantly vanishing.
-What just happened?-
“It’s just a seeming! A lie, sort of. He can’t have gone far! I bet he’s not even that fast. In fact, he might be hiding right nearby, waiting for us to leave. Can you find his scent?”
Socks paced the ground around the tower for a long while, as did Dirt, trying to peek into and hiding places Socks might miss. They found no further traces and gave up when Antelmu returned, empty handed.
Dirt knew then he was in for a long night of poor sleep. Somewhere, there was a thirsty corpse that had tasted his blood.