DIE NIEDERLAGE

German, "the defeat"

...it's my curse

To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse

-- The Amazing Devil, Farewell Wanderlust

When Diarnlan finished her story Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair sat in silence for a long time. The teapot bubbled on the stove and the clock chimed on the wall. Diarnlan waited. She tried to be patient, but as the minutes passed she grew more and more annoyed.

"Well? Can you do anything to break this curse?"

Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair started as if she'd forgotten Diarnlan was there. "You think it's a curse, then, do you?"

Diarnlan scowled. What a ridiculous question. "Of course. It can't be anything else."

"I'm not so sure. I'd think of it as more a second chance." She paused and frowned thoughtfully. "Or perhaps a tenth chance would be more apt in this case. At any rate, I'd say it's a chance to atone for the past."

It took a great deal of self-control for Diarnlan to not throw something at her teacher. "Atone for what? I have nothing to atone for!"

Her teacher nodded solemnly. "I suspect it's that attitude that keeps you stuck in this time-loop. Consider. By your own admission you lied about a young boy -- your student, no less -- and got him sent to what you thought was certain death. In the next lifetime you stood by and let the same thing happen. Both times you tormented him before then. From then on you've killed him... how many times?"

"Twice," Diarnlan said through gritted teeth. "You make him sound like an innocent victim. Aren't you forgetting that he killed me too?"

"And that, I think, is why he's in the same situation. You both have plenty to atone for."

This was starting to sound disgustingly like the twee sentimentality Diarnlan expected from the village priest. "What, do you think everyone who's ever done something wrong is forced to relive their life again and again? If so I think it would have become common knowledge long ago."

Her teacher shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe this does happen frequently. The people experiencing it would be reluctant to talk about it. Most of the world would think they're mad. At any rate, it's happening now. How and why it started aren't really important at the minute. The question is, how do you stop it? And for that I think you should talk to Karandren."

Diarnlan suppressed the urge to throw her teacup at her teacher's head. "Right now Karandren is four. I've no idea where he lives. And do you seriously think I'm going to have a friendly chat with a man who's killed me, kidnapped me, held me prisoner?"

In a maddeningly patient tone Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair said, "He hasn't done any of that in this lifetime. Why don't you try looking at each repetition of the loop as a clean slate? A chance to start over and forget everything that happened before?"

Oh, for the love of-- Diarnlan felt as if she was back in her kitchen converted into a classroom, struggling to get very simple concepts through Erdreda's thick skull. She picked up her teacup, marched over to the sink, and began scrubbing it fiercely. It was either that or give into the temptation to throw it at the idiot still sitting at the table.

A large spider, its body as long as her arm, crept up onto the windowsill. Diarnlan glared at it until it went away. She dried the teacup and left it on the counter. Only then did she feel calm enough to resume the conversation.

"Not one more word about Karandren or I'll leave right now," she warned.

Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair shook her head sadly. "You really should do something about your temper."

Diarnlan ignored her. "Whatever caused this can wait. The most important thing right now is to stop the monsters coming through the veil. I need every piece of information that's ever been written about the veil. And I'll need a boat." She paused, thinking for a minute. Searching for the rift in a boat had been an exercise in futility the last time. "Actually, I think I might need a spell to fly and a spell to breathe underwater as well."

Her teacher blinked. "...I can find the spells, but you'll have to go to the academy librarian for information on the veil. There isn't that much, you know."

"I know," Diarnlan said grimly. "And now I'm going to find somewhere to stay in Grønager."

It was a pity she couldn't just go and move back into her own house. The rooms above the village inn would be adequate for the time being, but she would have to find a more permanent home soon. She had at least ten years ahead of her, after all.

Her teacher interrupted her thoughts by asking, "Do you have any money?"

It was Diarnlan's turn to blink. "Do I have any--" She checked her pockets just in case her past self had helpfully left a few coins in them. "No. I'll write to my family and... ask..."

For the first time it dawned on her that she was now only fourteen. In all of her past lives she had been twenty-four, owned her own house, made money from selling potions and spells, and had enough power that no one bothered her. In this lifetime, on the other hand, she'd be seen as nothing but a runaway student. Her parents could come along and force her to go back to the academy. They certainly wouldn't be happy to give her money. No one would believe her if she told them the truth. Even Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair had listened with incredulity at first.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

She looked sheepishly at her teacher. Even though the words almost choked her she forced herself to say, "Could you lend me some money for a while? I'll pay you back with interest as soon as I can."

Her teacher went over to a cupboard and took out a large sack of coins. Diarnlan gawked as she handed it to her. This was far too much money!

"Don't worry about paying me back," Teivain-ríkhorn-hrair said. "Or, if you must, go and talk to Karandren. Try to reach a compromise even if you can't become friends. That will do for repayment."

Diarnlan eyed her dubiously, too confused to be properly insulted. "Why do you want me to talk to him so much? What do you get out of it?"

"The two of you working together have a better chance of killing the monsters than anyone else. And the more quickly the monsters are killed, the better for everyone."

That couldn't possibly be the whole reason. But Diarnlan had far too much to think about without dwelling on it any longer.

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Very little happened in the town of Grønager. It wasn't large, important, or in a place that attracted tourists. The arrival of a stranger was the most excitement that had happened in months. Within minutes of the stranger arriving at the inn the news was all over town. People abandoned their work or idleness to go and investigate. Never before had the inn had so many customers at once.

All of them were disappointed. The stranger went up to her room as soon as she checked in and didn't come down again for the rest of the day.

Their curiosity would have been even greater if they could have seen what was happening upstairs. Diarnlan locked her door, filled the sink, and spent hours practicing the spell for underwater breathing. By the time night fell she could breathe underwater for five minutes at a time.

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Meanwhile, back in the in-between realm, Karandren was bored. He'd tried everything he could think of to pass the time. Climbing the tree got him nothing but a nasty fall and a few bruises that healed within seconds. Ice skating had failed because his shoes made very poor makeshift ice-skates. Exploring had failed because there was nothing to discover in this place. It was nothing but snow, snow and more snow.

So now he was back at the lakeside, waiting for Diarnlan to reappear. With every minute that went past without her he became more and more annoyed. How could she possibly stay alive longer than he had?

Out of spite he kicked the remains of her snowman. Then he had an idea. Why not build his own snowman? And make it much better than her stupid one? He set to work immediately. When he finished the first snowman he began making another.

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Once upon a time Diarnlan had thought the villagers were at their most annoying when they were being obnoxiously grateful to her for killing a monster, Now she learnt just how wrong she was. They were at their most annoying when they kept barging into the inn to gawk at her as if she was some freak of nature. She couldn't even eat her breakfast in peace without people coming up to her and asking where her parents were.

"I'm eighteen," she said through gritted teeth for the umpteenth time.

Also for the umpteenth time, the latest person to annoy her looked dubious but said nothing more. It was just as well that she was tall for her age or her excuse would never have worked.

As soon as she finished her breakfast she set off for the seaside. If she remembered correctly there was a sheltered cove about a mile from her old house. She hadn't gone there often, but neither had anyone else. If she was lucky it would be deserted and she could practice her spell there.

For once she was lucky. There was no one in sight anywhere near the cove. She waded out into the water until it was up to her neck. Then she cast the spell and dived underwater. Two minutes later she resurfaced, coughing and spluttering.

What went wrong? she wondered, spitting out the water that had gotten into her mouth.

She tried again. And again. And again. She was so preoccupied by her efforts that she didn't notice the tide was coming in. The water moved higher and higher up the beach. There was only a thin strip of sand left. It shrank with each minute.

Diarnlan, still treading water in-between diving beneath the surface for minutes at a time, only realised something was wrong when she tried to stand up. Her feet didn't touch the bottom. Her startled yelp was cut off as she fell underwater. When she resurfaced it finally dawned on her that the beach was gone.

Goddamn it, she thought. I was finally getting somewhere and now I'll have to leave it until tomorrow.

She swam towards where the beach had been. The cove was connected to the road above by a narrow path running down the side of the hill. It should have been easy for her to climb out of the water onto the path. But as soon as she got close a wave caught her and drove her towards the rocks off to the side.

For the first time Diarnlan realised the danger she was in. The water was getting deeper with every minute and it was driving her towards the shore too quickly. If she hit something at this speed it would be extremely painful. She tried swimming towards the path again. There was a section where there weren't any sharp rocks. If she could reach it...

A wave crashed over her head and knocked her underwater. When she struggled to the surface again she found she'd been carried dangerously close to the rocks at the other side of the cove.

Cast the spell! she yelled at herself.

She cast it and dived underwater again. There was a channel leading out to the open sea without any rocks in it. But going that way would just replace one problem with another. She couldn't stay in the water all night. She couldn't swim to shore even if she did get out to sea. And she was already getting tired.

I'd rather drown than be thrown on the rocks.

Keeping that thought in mind she began swimming towards the channel. Unfortunately she hadn't considered the current. It caught her and dragged her towards the rocks again. She no longer had the strength to fight it.

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The first thing Diarnlan saw when she opened her eyes was the frog-like skrýszel. She screamed bloody murder before she realised it was oddly white. The real monster had been grey. And it had shorter legs. And its shell came further over its head.

She glared up at the snow sculpture. Beside it was another sculpture of a skrýszel. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a third.

Diarnlan stood up and found herself in the middle of a tableau of snow skrýszels. There were twelve of them, including some she hadn't seen before. Bizarrely, all of them wore hats and scarves made out of snow.

Only one person could be responsible for this. She turned and wasn't really surprised to find Karandren grinning at her from behind a sculpture of a tree with... was that a mouth? With teeth?

"So," Karandren asked cheerfully, as if only talking about the weather, "how did you die this time?"

Diarnlan broke off one of the snow-tentacles from one sculpture and threw it at him.