“What happened here?” It was a strange voice. Maybe that was because it wasn’t formed by a larynx; perhaps it was because it bypassed the eardrum completely. Coil wasn’t certain, but it sure made him uncomfortable. Absentmindedly he rubbed at the stumps of his two lost fingers.
“All magic was leeched from the land. All life went with it.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Sorry?”
“Last time I was here the lands were very different. Not dead at all; alive, teeming.” He still didn’t know what to call her – though somehow he did know that she was a she. He had no idea how. Her body – little more than bones and wrappings – certainly didn’t offer any clues. Nor was it to be read in her eyes. They were but two pinpricks of light, which had been red and malevolent when she’d dealt with the creature, but now were closer to a melancholic blue. Neither colour indicated gender. The only thing they suggested was ‘inhuman’.
Not that that was strange. She was undead. He didn’t much like the undead. They’d only ever caused him misery, pain and suffering. Coil suspected it was their malformed personalities – the way they only consisted of two dimensions, like caricatures of the living. Central to each type was an all-consuming emotion; as through death and reanimation had cost them an aspect of themselves, as if somebody hadn’t wanted to go through the trouble of creating a fully rounded being. The dominant emotion differed per species – if that was the right word for them – but the end result was much the same.
There was the Krull, who were motivated by their lust for power, the Restless King had been consumed by revenge, and then the Infected of course, with their fervid hunger. He shuddered at the thought of them.
But she wasn’t like that. She seemed to possess the full range of human emotions. He’d sensed anger, melancholy, interest and even humour there. She remembered too. And not in the way of the Restless King, whose memories had been twisted into something dark and corrupted – no, her memories were intricate and, for lack of a better word, human.
“The empire that stripped these sands of magic,” he told her, “is so long past that we don’t even remember its name. And you’re saying you were here before its fall? How many millennia were you down there?”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything. I have no idea. What iteration are we on?”
“Iteration?”
“How many Games of the Gods have there been?”
“Oh, I was told this is the twenty second. When were you put down there?”
“In the thirteenth.”
Coil whistled, “That’s several thousand years ago!”
“Who won that game? Was it Sideon?”
Coil turned towards her, “Sideon the Ghoul?”
“You know of him?”
He shrugged, “Of course. Who doesn’t? He’s part of the Pantheon.”
“So then he won. Why do they call him the Ghoul?”
“I’m not sure. Because of what he did, I think. I’ve never been the religious type.”
They returned to their silence, staring out over the wasteland of black hills under a nigh time sky. The moon had just risen. Unbidden Coil recalled the legends of the Carn’Sid, those who inhabited the moon, those who’d attacked all of the known world with their airships. Of course, now that he knew what had really happened the legends weren’t that magical anymore. They hadn’t been heroic, nor epic. It had all only been entertainment. That’s how it always was – their kind at the helm and his kind as the dead left in history’s wake.
Things had been so much better when he hadn’t known his world was just somebody’s play thing. Sometimes he wished Fortwo wouldn’t have told him. But that was unfair. It wasn’t like the daemon hadn’t warned him, hadn’t given him a choice. In fact, Fortwo had been the only one who’d been honest right from the get go.
“What are we waiting for?”
“Patience.” Did she mean ‘be patient’ or did she mean ‘we’re waiting for patience’? He was about to ask. Then he had second thoughts. It didn’t really matter. It came down to the same thing. The silence stretched. Coil tried. It wasn’t any easier than the last few times.
But then, patience was no doubt a chinch for somebody who’d been slumbering for a few millennia. It wasn’t as easy for somebody who’d not that long ago tried to kill those he’d called friends, she who he’d loved. His mind kept wandering and he kept stumbling upon her face. He growled soundlessly. He again tried for distraction.
“How do you know Fortwo?” She turned to face him. Her eyes had become a clear, almost painfully white. It was strange how they could shine like that, without casting light on anything around them, though Coil. Only the light of the moon could be seen on her countenance.
“I was the one that snapped his chains.” Coil could only stare at her in stunned silence. After a moment she asked, “Was he the one that woke me?” Her gaze still drilled into him, seeming to see everything, seeming to see his soul.
Coil dropped his eyes. Now that he had her full attention he wasn’t quite sure he wanted it. Not if she was the one that had freed Fortwo. But she couldn’t be, could she? Maybe she just thought she was. “It’s possible he did, I guess. He sent me here. I’m still not sure why. It wasn’t like you needed my help. More the reverse.”
“Oh, don’t be too sure.”
“But how could I possibly help you? I mean, the amount of power I felt in there, it was,” he faltered. He didn’t know how to describe it. Words didn’t suffice.
“Magic is not everything. Besides, powerful magic attracts attention and right now we don’t want that.”
Riddles. What was he supposed to do with riddles? Hadn’t Fortwo given him enough of those? The daemons answers had always only ever led to more questions. His answers had only ever made the world more complicated. Not for the first time he wished he was just a bloody shopkeep again. Not for the first time he wished he could unlearn what he knew, turn back the wheel of time and go back to how it had been before, maybe to those early days when he’d first met the Contenders and everything had seemed so grand. But you couldn’t go back, so then all that was left was to go forward. And that meant learning more.
“Can you tell me about the ghosts?”
“Ghosts?”
“Yes, the watchers. Those that, you know,” he looked around, at the dead sand, tried to see beyond it.
“You’ve seen them? That’s not a common thing. They were only visible upon a person’s death when I went into the ground. Has that changed?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if they’re visible any other way, but then I kind of did die. Twice.”
“Kind of?”
He shook his head, “Not kind of.”
“Twice?”
He gave a wry smile, “The first time I only glimpsed them. The second time Fortwo showed me their true nature. Or, at least, some of it.”
She regarded him, “This explains a lot.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. So what do you know?”
“I know they sit in judgement.” Somehow he could sense she didn’t quite agree with that. “They seek to be entertained.” She nodded – it was a curt gesture, which made a small amount of dust fall from an eye socket. He was pretty sure he’d seen some bug scuttle around in there earlier. But if there was something alive in there it didn’t seem to bother her and besides, it seemed rude to ask. “Aren’t they the real enemy?”
A shake of the head. “Not really. More like our salvation.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense!” He was suddenly furious, “there is no salvation in evil!” She looked at him – she was inscrutable. He didn’t care, “They ‘oohed’, ‘aahed’ and clapped as my people were murdered! I saw them!”
“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”
“How can them clapping at murder be explained by stupidity?” He roared, “How can laughter at other’s suffering be explained by ignorance?”
“Calm yourself.” There was ice there, in that voice. “It is not me you’re angry at.” The red haze dropped away as quickly as it had come. He was shocked to realise quite how angry he‘d become.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “It’s,” he hesitated, “a sensitive issue.”
“I understand. You may not believe me, but I share your rage. We are here to fight the same war.”
“But the ghosts are not the enemy?”
“For now it is the Contenders we will be focusing on.” He rolled his shoulders but decided not the press the point. There had been a sense of finality about those words; a sense that her patience might be wearing a little thin. He decided not to mention the irony in that. Instead he wandered out of the wind, balled up his cloak and laid himself down. He doubted he’d be able to sleep, but at least he could try.
“It has arrived.”
Coil started back to awareness. “What?”
“Our ride.” Was yellow amusement? Maybe he should keep notes.
Then all such thoughts dropped away. “By the gods! Another!” He screamed as he pulled up his wards and prepared to fight.
The beast roared and Coil clutched his ears. It didn’t reduce the sound – just like this woman’s words its scream bypassed such mundane things as ears. “This one is different. This one’s under my control.” It didn’t look like it was under anybody’s control, the way it was shaking its head and gnashing its teeth – like a crazed horse with his bit between his teeth. Coil thought about running, but there was nowhere to go. Underground he’d only survived as long as he had because he’d been able to hide behind the pillars.
Out here there was only dead sand.
Only her assurances protected him. Oh Gods, let her be right, he thought. His heart thundered. The creature charged them, stopped a few feet short, roared and then retreated again. Then it pawed at the sand, leaving every grain exactly where it had been.
But it didn’t attack.
Slowly he relaxed. She must have it under some sort of control over it, he decided, whatever it was. Sometimes it looked a bit like a dragon, he decided, with its ribbed wings, swishing tail and a head full of teeth, but not always. Its form flowed, changed, and warped before his very eyes. Looking at it felt like he was going cross-eyed. It wasn’t just physically disturbing either. Somehow it awakened some primary fear in him as well, like you felt in nightmares or when something was stalking you. The thing stared back at him. Its eyes were gateways to madness and suffering; both petrifying and strangely beguiling. The thing was mesmerizing, hypnotizing, and utterly terrifying.
“What is it?” His voice shook.
“It’s a dragon torn between dimensions.”
“Gods, why would you want to do that?” He thought back to when he’d been caught between the magic of the portal and the ring’s enchantment. It had been agony. And that had only been a moment. He couldn’t imagine that going on for all eternity.
“It serves its purpose. They are very hard to kill if you don’t know how. And they do not age, do not change. Its mind is as trapped as its body.”
“Is that why it looks utterly mad?” She shrugged, “How do you know all this?”
“I created it. I’m the only one that knows how.”
He stared at her dumbfounded. “Why would you do such a thing? Why would you cause eternal agony?”
“Because I know some things you don’t. Because knew I was going to sleep a long time. Because anything that didn’t last for ever wouldn’t have been around anymore upon my reawakening. And because sometimes we must do small evils today, to stop great evil tomorrow.”
Bullshit, he wanted to say, garbage, he wanted to shout. Those were the words of dictators. Those were the thoughts of evil people who trying justify evil things. Then he remembered what he’d already done, how the streets of Aberfell had run red with blood because of him and he swallowed his words. Who was he to talk?
“Your compassion is commendable,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
She put a hand on his shoulder, “Hold onto that guilt, Coil. Remember it, don’t let it go. As long as you feel guilty you’re alright. It’s when you stop feeling guilty that you need to worry.” He frowned. He’d have to think about that.
“Answer me one thing, why have I never heard anything about this creature? How come I’ve never seen any flying about?”
“Because they’ve been expunged from the history books. Just like I was.”
“Expunged?”
“Removed.”
“Ah.” He let her assumption regarding his vocabulary slide.
“I broke the rules and they tried to get rid of me. The thought they did. That’s why I slumbered for such a long time. To let them forget.”
“What were you waiting for?”
She gave him a long look, her eye colour a scintillating number of hues. Finally she reached a decision. “Let’s talk about that later. You’ll know soon enough. Now, come along.” She walked towards the beast. He followed despite his foreboding. As he neared the creature the aura of coldness, viciousness, rage, and cruel intelligence grew stronger. The thing oscillated between two dimensions and three, between madness and lucidity. It gnashed its teeth at him. He shuddered. This thing was much more like the other undead he’d encountered.
Maybe she too was more like them than he’d thought.
She touched its forehead with something that immediately made him question that assertion. It quieted. She swung onto its back, “Give me your hand.”
“We’re going to ride that thing?”
“It’s either ride, or walk.” He hesitated and looked out over the endless desert. Only moments ago walking had seemed like the worst possible idea. Suddenly it seemed a lot more appealing.
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