Dirt might have preferred to spend a day at the tower reading, but Socks wouldn’t let him. Even though the burn on his cheek hadn’t been that bad, it left an area redder than the rest as it healed. It wasn’t quite a scar, but the skin there did feel a little different when he rubbed it. While Socks was relieved it wasn’t worse, he wasn’t happy it had happened.
Servant watched silently as the pup pulled the tower’s heavy door shut. Afterward, Socks said he heard it shambling to another room in there, probably to tidy up the place and wait for the return of its master. Dirt regretted leaving so much reading material behind, but it was for the best. It would be safe in there until he could find a way to safely transport it to the Schola. Unfortunately, Caeso’s corpse hadn’t returned to its coffin, which meant they couldn’t destroy it and be done with him. Not yet.
They traveled away from the rising sun, toward the lands they knew. The morning was quiet, even including mental speech. Socks was upset that Dirt had been injured and might have been killed if the fight had gone on longer, and was being moody about it.
For his part, Antelmu was somber and spent most of his time thinking about his failed hunt the night before, and what it meant for the immediate future. He’d been hoping he could hold the bow with his feet and draw with his unbroken hand, but it hadn’t worked and he hadn’t even shot an arrow, let alone hit something edible. That made his reliance on Dirt and Socks all the more poignant. Other than them, he was totally isolated, with nowhere to go for safety and no way to hunt except his spear, and that wasn’t shaped right for throwing.
Indeed, he began to have the sort of thoughts that Dirt was all too familiar with. Things like, How do I need to act to stay alive? and How can I stay on their good side? And just like Dirt, those thoughts were not uncoupled from the sincere affection he was developing. He’d put Dirt in the same category in his mind as Gnaziu, the nine-year-old, and he was quite fond of Socks, even though it was clear that Socks’s best friend was Dirt and not him. Strangely, he would often forget for hours that Dirt and Socks could see all his thoughts if they wanted, and when he did remember, it didn’t bother him what they might have seen.
Dirt didn’t mean to pry, not really; he just had nothing else to do while Socks ran. The scenery wasn’t particularly impressive. No grand sweeping vistas with promises of excitement and discovery. No, the morning’s run was across plains of frozen earth and dry grasses that spiked up from the thin snow. And it was warmer, too, which he hadn’t expected. Not warm, certainly, but warmer. Warm enough to start melting the snow and making the ground muddy.
One thing Dirt noticed was that after his experience with Caeso’s seemings, his imagination felt a bit more real than before. He fell easier into daydreams, and whatever he conjured up in his mind was strong and vibrant. Either that, or he was imagining it being different and just seeing his own thoughts from a slightly different perspective. Still, he liked to think his dream body might have grown just a little.
Around midday, they stopped for a nap, which Antelmu didn’t need; he walked to another spot and practiced stabbing with his spear while Dirt and Socks slept.
Socks was in a more playful mood after that and did a lot more exploring than running for the rest of the day. The warm sunlight brought out all sorts of hungry little critters, and he wanted to catch a glimpse of whichever ones he could. Mice and rats, mostly, and other creatures their size, whose names Dirt didn’t know. One of which had a long, pointy nose, and Socks managed to snatch it up for Dirt and Antelmu to look at. By the time it had floated back to their waiting hands, the poor thing was dead of fright.
He came across the trail of a small pack of canines and followed it to the end, which turned out to be their den. They weren’t inside it; he’d followed the trail the wrong direction. But the hole leading in wasn’t much larger than Dirt’s head, so they couldn’t have been very big. Socks said they didn’t smell like dogs, so Antelmu suggested it could be foxes or coyotes, neither of which Dirt or Socks had seen before. Antelmu had only seen foxes a few times, but he’d helped chase coyotes away from the sheep and goats on a regular basis. From his memory of them, they seemed to look like tiny gray wolves.
As night drew close and they made their final stop, playful winds picked up that blew randomly from three different directions. Dirt watched for minds and sure enough, he found a small group of air elementals. Their minds felt young. Something in their emotions reminded Dirt of himself, and of Socks, flitting through the world with little direction, only their own noses and curiosity to follow. Except that Dirt and Socks were mostly running away from the Devourer, and the elements seemed to be headed toward something; just not in a particular hurry.
The more he watched, the more he wished he could communicate with them better. He had some experience, but he only knew a little of their language. He couldn’t even ask something like ‘Where are you going’ without a lot of planning and thought. Dirt suspected that only the intelligence of the great elementals let them understand him at all, rough as he was. Still, they were fun to watch.
Late that night, Dirt and the others woke to pouring rain. It was startlingly dark, so dark that not even Socks could make out the barest shapes. Dirt summoned a few lights that shone weakly through the driving rain, and Socks quickly put a mental shield over them to keep the water off. He was tired, though, and wanted to sleep; he whined and squeaked softly, and that communicated enough.
Dirt patted him on the fur and said aloud, “Stay here and keep our packs dry.” Then he got up and immediately shivered when some water dripped off his hair and went down his back.
“Where are you going?” said Antelmu, trying to blink himself fully awake.
“Not far,” said Dirt. The chill kept him from wanting to explain at length. “You’ll see.”
-You will get lost,- said Socks.
“I won’t get lost,” said Dirt. As he trudged away through the slick mud, he left one light hovering over Socks, which did the job. In a night as dark as this one, he’d be able to go fifty paces or more before he couldn’t see it, even through the rain.
By the time he found was he was looking for, a group of saplings growing up near an old fallen stump, the top half of his shirt was soaked through and his mind was running wild. He knew he was being silly, but his lights only illuminated the ground for a few feet before the rain blocked everything. The rain flashed as it fell around him, falling so hard he had to shield his eyes with his hands to see at all. The rain made a rushing sound like ten rivers all at once, a cacophony that would hide anything worse coming. Over in the distance, he could barely make out the light above Socks and Antelmu, but in every other direction, just blackness.
That gave space for his imagination, which called up the dream he’d once had of the Devourer. The dryads had told him that the dream was with him always, not just during sleep, and from the strength of his imagination currently, he could believe it. It almost felt like he was causing the Devourer to appear, as if worrying about a thing could make it happen.
Despite trying not to, he kept picturing those inferno-filled eyes flashing open in the darkness, those bared fangs creeping forward. He became sure the rain was covering the sound of his approach. He tried and tried to banish the thought, but the vision was sticky and he couldn’t fling it off.
And then being alone in the black of night was no fun at all. He tested the saplings to find the sturdiest one and used mana to shape the wood and sever it. He ran back but only made it four steps before his foot landed on a rock he didn’t see, causing him to twist his ankle painfully and fall, coating his side with mud from shoes to hair. Dirt pulled himself up and limped back.
Being wet made the cold a hundred times worse, and he shivered violently the whole time he shaped the wood. It took forever, too, growing something that large. First he stretched it into a long arc, big enough to cover Socks, and then grew it sideways into a half tube. It only grew inch by inch, creepingly slow. All the while as he worked, he was distressingly aware of that he couldn’t watch behind him. He could feel those inferno eyes out there, ready to open and find him any moment.
Socks made a warming fire, small and hot, which he never did, and held it close to Dirt with complete focus to make sure it didn’t burn him. Antelmu scooted closer and waited. How long it took, Dirt couldn’t tell; the cold and weariness and dread made it seem like forever. But he eventually finished, creating a low dome that covered the pup’s body, with a small opening just past tail and a larger one on the other end so Socks would have no trouble filling his enormous lungs. He wasn’t sure which was the better part—knowing they’d stay dry from now on, or knowing nothing outside could see him anymore.
“You need to change out of those wet clothes,” thought Antelmu, for them to see. “Put on something spare from Biandina’s pack. That’ll be warmer.”
After changing and shoving his wet clothes to the side, they were finally able to settle back in for the rest of the night. Socks fell asleep first, followed shortly by Antelmu, but much like the night before, Dirt lingered and couldn’t fall all the way asleep. He’d get halfway, into that state between wakefulness and dreaming where the wildest of imaginings happen, and remember something frightening. The toothy corpse of Caeso, which he imagined sneaking in silently to bite him somewhere tender. And what if the shelter wasn’t thick enough and collapsed under the rain? Did he need to strengthen it again?
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But the worst was the lingering dread of the Devourer. No imagining of something else could banish that particular phantom from his thoughts for long. He thought of the empty blackness of the storm and he pictured those eyes, those great eyes full of fire, bearing down on him and scorching away his flesh. Then consuming helpless Antelmu, and finally, feasting on a suffering Socks.
Dirt pushed the vision away, but it rebounded each time. Everything he imagined surrounded him always, the dryads had told him. He should never have spent so much energy imagining this.
He noticed the rain was gone and he was standing and realized he’d fallen from wakefulness into a dream in an instant. He found himself on hard, bare soil, with an empty starless sky above. Panic struck him as he recognized it. This was the Devourer dream.
Just as before, wolf eyes opened, full of fire and blazing heat. Beneath them, a maw hung slightly open in hunger, dripping saliva that burned and hissed when it hit the dead earth.
-You call for me,- said the Devourer, speaking in thoughts instead of words. The image was of Dirt tracking through a dry, snowless wood, crunching on every fallen branch and leaf as he went. Dirt glowed, his scent was vivid, and in all other ways he stood out and begged to be seen. Up and down in all the world, the Devourer had been sniffing, casting his broad net and checking every thread for a tug, and now his prey was found. Dirt had called him, somehow, he realized. He’d made himself visible by imagining it too hard.
-Now, where are you?-
Something strange happened then. Dirt was suddenly aware of his physical body. He felt the heat from those eyes on his physical self now, not just his dream one.
He forced himself awake almost on reflex. He lay there panting in the darkness, sweat on his brow, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Last time he’d dreamed of the Devourer, Dirt hadn’t been able to wake himself up. The trees had to save him. What had changed?
The dream was gone now, though; he could feel that with certainty. Had the Devourer seen him in the flesh? If so, there was nothing in here to see. If he’d somehow looked upon this spot and seen the sleeping Socks, he wouldn’t have learned much. Not even what kind of grass they were laying on.
Dirt waited for it to happen again as he listened to the rain and the breath in Socks’s lungs. It didn’t. Whether he had more control over his imagination now, or whether the Devourer had accomplished its aims already, he had but normal thoughts, normal imaginings. Just to be safe, he resolved to stay awake until morning and sleep then. Socks could carry him while he slept.
But he was asleep again before he knew it, and warm when he awoke. Antelmu had snuggled in between him and Socks and slept with one arm draped over him, which he’d used to tuck the far end of the blanket to make sure Dirt stayed warm. That had happened some time after the Devourer dream.
“I dreamed of the Devourer, Socks,” said Dirt. He sent the complete vision, and some of his thoughts and impressions surrounding it. “I think he saw me. Us.”
Socks thought about it for a moment, then said, -I do not feel him near, or see any signs. But I will watch more carefully now. Tell me if it happens again.-
“I will.”
It was still raining, the morning dark and sullen and wet. No one made the first move to get up until finally Dirt had to pee so bad he had no other choice. Antelmu followed him out, and when they were done, they hurried back in and snuggled against Socks’s belly again to get warm, laughing and playful. That was all it took for the night to be well and truly over. Whatever phantasms had haunted him were gone now.
-Let’s lay here for a while longer. I don’t have to pee yet. I didn’t drink much water yesterday,- said Socks, and the boys were happy to comply.
Somehow, it was easy to just lie there doing nothing, listening to the rain. Probably because it was still early and Dirt’s body wasn’t fully convinced it was daytime yet. That, or simply resting with nowhere to be and no responsibility was a luxury they hadn’t enjoyed for a while.
It was Antelmu who first started up a conversation. “Can you two hear me?” he thought. Both of them noticed and replied “Yes.”
“Okay, good. So…” Antelmu paused, his thoughts swirling as he tried to find the right way to approach this. By the time he started thinking loudly again, the other two knew what he was going to ask. “You said you’re trying to save humanity. What’s the plan, exactly? I know you want to stop that… eye monster somehow. But other than that? Do you have anything in mind?”
There was more he wasn’t asking. He wanted to know what he was good for, and if he had a place with them now and in the future, or if he’d made a mistake coming at all.
Socks said, -I let Dirt make the plans.-
Dirt snorted. That wasn’t true at all. He thought, “That’s not an easy question. I keep finding new things to worry about. When I started out, I was only worried about staying alive. Everything was bigger than me and wanted to eat me. But then I found Socks, or rather, he found me, and then I had him to worry about. I want to stop the Devourer forever so Socks can have pups that aren’t hunted when he grows up. So that’s one thing. And I have more to say about that, but in a minute.”
“Maxima mentioned the Devourer and said he might be watching. What is that? What is the Devourer?” thought Antelmu.
Dirt winced, realizing he’d forgotten he wasn’t going to tell Antelmu about this. It was a dangerous thing to know about. He replied, “I probably shouldn’t tell you much. Not because we don’t trust you, but because Mother might kill you if she doesn’t want you to know. She gave me strict warnings about it.”
“So, what is he?” asked Antelmu. “I doubt I’m ever going to meet Socks’s mother.”
“No, you don’t understand, she… well, never mind. It’s too late now. He’s a dead wolf, Socks’s grandfather, and he’s trying to eat all the pups,” said Dirt. “But really, you shouldn’t learn too much about this.”
“Okay, but, is he a corpse? A skeleton? What is he?”
“No, he’s a ghost. A spirit. But a very, very powerful one. Socks still has scars on his belly from being attacked.”
“Oh. If he’s that powerful, then you can’t just pray to the earth to take his corpse and the sky to take his spirit. The great ones persist on their own terms. The great ancestors are still around in the other worlds. We sacrifice to them every year. You might have to wait until he’s born again.”
“Oh, you know about that?” asked Dirt. “About being born again eventually?”
“Of course. Everyone does. You know what happens when you die, right?” asked Antelmu.
“I honestly have no idea. The trees just told me that everyone has only one spirit, that only ever matches one body, and after you die, if the same body gets born somewhere, you get born with it,” said Dirt.
“Huh? The same body? No, that doesn’t sound right. How would that even work?”
“I don’t know, that’s just what they said,” said Dirt. But that was a good question. How would the same body be born again, somewhere else? Did you have to have the same father? Maybe also the same mother? He’d have to ask. But it was an intriguing idea. If the Devourer’s body got born somewhere, would he be born into it, whether he wanted to or not? Actually, that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? To come alive again.
“Huh,” thought Antelmu. “Well, if he ever shows up, we can try to exorcise him. I know a few ways.”
-If he shows up, both of you are certain to die, and I probably won’t get away either,- said Socks. -It strains Father and Mother both to keep us alive when he appears. That is why we are running.-
“Socks, where do wolves go when you die?” asked Antelmu.
-I shouldn’t say. I don’t think I was supposed to find out,- said Socks cryptically. He closed off part of his thoughts to make sure it stayed hidden. Dirt might have been able to slyly learn whatever it was; they played games about hiding thoughts like that all the time. But not for this, not on the rare occasion Socks wanted his privacy. And, aside from that, it might be the sort of thing Mother would kill him for learning.
Antelmu showed impressive discipline and swallowed his curiosity. Dirt knew it wasn’t easy and smiled gently to himself. The boy thought, “So that’s one thing. What else are you worried about, Dirt?”
“I think about the trees a lot, but I don’t worry about them. I don’t think there’s anything that could harm them. But Socks and I left the forest and den and found some humans, and now I worry about the humans. I don’t know how to save them all. They’re all spread out, and everything in between is dangerous. I think they just need to be safer, and fed, and raise more children and spread out slowly until they can keep the roads safe. I don’t think the whole empire will come back, and it probably shouldn’t. We’ll have to share with the wolves, and the trees, and only the gods know what else. So that’s another thing.”
“Maxima protecting our tribe will help. My own brother got killed by a rucche. Maybe every group of humans just needs something to protect them. Some could be other strong humans,” thought Antelmu. Of course, he pictured himself doing it, atop a noble steed, spear in hand.
“Maybe. I don’t know how to teach anyone magic and I don’t know how to be strong without it. But that’s already what some are doing. The duke has his knights. Maybe lots more knights.”
“Well, and our tribe has heroes, too. Strong ancestors. I’ll tell you some stories later. But what else?”
-The eye,- said Socks.
“The eye. When the world broke and the gods left, something else came peeking in the crack. I don’t know what it is, but I do know it wants humans extinct,” said Dirt. “The other problem is that, I’m afraid if I try to fix the damage, the gods will come back and be angry, and fight the wolves and the trees and put everything back to how it was when humans only ever talked to other humans. And even worse, what if I break it even further and living becomes impossible anywhere?”
“Do you know how to fix it?” asked Antelmu.
“No idea,” said Dirt. “I only have a vague idea how I broke it in the first place. I learned a little at the Turris Solis, though.”
Antelmu picked up on how Dirt took the blame, and a few things slid together for him. Dirt being called Avitus, and a vaguely remembered story about Avitus breaking the world. Dirt being a little boy with incredible power and an even more powerful friend, sometimes showing wisdom greater than the sages, and knowledge no one could match. He said nothing.
-Are you going to tell him the rest? He just figured it out.- said Socks, to Dirt only.
“I don’t know. He already doesn’t know what to make of me. And it was nice having him think I just was a clueless little boy, because that’s most of what I am,” replied Dirt, to Socks only.
-No one thinks you are “just” anything. Every human has found you strange. Most of them like you, though,- said Socks.
“I should go back to being naked and dirty all the time. I’m not pulling off being civilized very well. May as well lean into my strengths,” said Dirt, grinning.
-Fine with me. Once you grow enough fur to keep warm,- said Socks.
Dirt snorted. “Do you think Ignasi’s chest is hairy enough to keep him warm?”
-No, but he does have fat on his stomach. That padding should help.-
Right beside them, Antelmu was concentrating as hard as he could. They noticed at the same time, then glanced at his mind to see what he was doing. But before they figured it out, he shouted, “I saw something! A man with black hair and a beard, and a hairy chest. I saw it! I really did! You were talking about someone with each other, weren’t you?”
Dirt sat upright in a jolt. He looked down at the other boy, who had the joy of triumph on his face. “Did he—”
-Yes. He cracked open his mind sight. I guess humans can learn it after all.-