The Keeper's Heritage

by Trenna McMullin

  Ky’ara furrowed her brow. “You are already stuck here, aren’t you?”

  Myrnai opened her mouth, then closed it as though changing her mind about what she was about to say.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Ky’ara took her apparent surprise as confirmation of the statement.

  Myrnai shook her head, “Not exactly. Time flows differently here— you discovered that on your own last time. That difference is key to my being able to extend my life in the physical world.”

  “So…you what? Spend every night in the Dreamworld and then only age half as much as you’re supposed to? Even that couldn’t keep you alive this long…” Ky’ara mused.

  Myrnai looked amused. “Believe me, if it was that simple every mage would have an extended life span. Suffice it to say that part—and only just a part, mind you—of what keeps me alive is that I can never fully leave this plane. Maintaining the connection gives me the benefit of the…less linear...state of time here.”

  Ky’ara started, “Never? But then, do you ever really sleep? And how are you ever awake then?”

  Myrnai sighed deeply, “My mind hasn’t slept in five hundred and thirteen years, child...and when I am awake a large part of me is still connected to this realm.”

  Ky’ara processed that. After only a few nights in the Dreamworld she had felt so brain-tired she couldn’t properly think. What would five hundred years of that feel like?

  “And…when you die?” Ky’ara asked, feeling instinctively that this was part of the price Myrnai had mentioned on her first visit.

  “When I choose to leave the physical world,” Myrnai adopted that same self-mocking tone she had earlier, “My body will die and I will be stuck here…and with considerably less freedom than I currently enjoy.”

  Ky’ara’s pity must have shown on her face, for Myrnai’s expression softened and she gave a slight smile. “Do not worry yourself over me. I’ve existed simultaneously in both worlds for so long it will be a relief to only dwell in one. And these worlds will not exist forever…when they end and the Light takes us all, I imagine whatever happens to everyone else will happen to me as well.”

  Ky’ara nodded mutely, not sure that was any comfort. Though she had read about some of the beliefs old cultures had held regarding the end of the world, religion was not a big part of the society she had grown up in—it was for superstitious peasants and barbarians like...like Hallahna, and the other Shaari who helped us, she thought. Ky’ara suddenly felt ashamed—and frustrated. Her upbringing in Coledria had left her with so many assumptions that were simply not true. Yet it seemed like the lies were not readily identifiable unless confronted individually. Hallahna had not spoken much about her faith—but Ky’ara knew Ysinkai factored somehow into the Shaari religion, and she had seen overwhelming evidence in her own life that the concept had at least some truth to it. Myrnai clearly believed in something…which meant that Taren likely did too. Were they ‘just peasants?’ Why had the nobility tried so hard to belittle any sort of belief system, magical, religious, or otherwise? Clearly it was another way of consolidating power…

  “Thoughts to ponder at another time, my dear,” Myrnai murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder and reminding the girl to better guard her own thoughts.

  “Now,” Myrnai continued, closing the subject once and for all, “Time-sliding happens all the time in the Dreamworld, but it is almost impossible to control. I would venture to guess that is half the reason why mages who wander here wind up lost—you cannot return home if you are not in the same Time as your body…”

  Her explanation became more complex and technical, and by the time she sent Ky’ara away the girl’s mind was once again feeling over-crowded with things she was sure she would never be able to remember.

  * * * * *

  The next day was a little better than the last few had been. Myrnai had taught her how to go into a sort of trance, meditating to help her mind and emotions rest somewhat despite being inside the Dreamworld. When she woke she was more alert to some extent, but the daily routine of travelling through the thick forest—unsure of where exactly they were going—was almost as tiring as her nightly forays into the other realm. Days drained her physically and nights drained her mentally. Emotionally she felt the strain from both. It seemed only a matter of time before she collapsed from fatigue of one kind or another. They finally reached the larger river that afternoon, and then did an almost complete reversal of direction to follow it upstream, where they hoped to find the lake. Follow the water, she had thought, staring at the rapidly flowing river. Downstream would take them to the sea—there was an inlet not too far away, according to both maps. She had thought about the tidbit of information they’d gleaned from old Evlyn—the ship that had blown off course and somehow found itself upriver—maybe this was the river. But to follow the water did that mean she should go downstream or upstream?

  Ky’ara had been about to tell the others where to go when she had caught a glimmer in the water a little ways upstream. It had flashed again, further up the current, and she’d thought she heard a faint giggle. The route the sea nymph had shown to her had appeared in her head momentarily, and she had thought she recognized the river now. Six more flashes of light had joined the first and, after a brief sequence of flickers that drew her eyes once more upstream, they had faded. She could take a hint.

  So the little group had started upstream, crossing the little brook they’d been following and continuing on till they found a good campsite. At least with the river nearby they were never lacking in food or water—though berries and fish were quickly getting old. Ky’ara longed for a real meal…fresh homemade bread, a real salad, some slow-roasted meat dripping in gravy…she tore her mind away from the delectable imagery. It was not going to help anything if she let silly desires occupy her mind. She should be paying attention to the task at hand.

  The truth was they were little more than lost—wandering around in search of a city that by all accounts had disappeared completely from the face of the earth. She clung to the fact that the nymphs seemed interested in helping. Ky’ara only hoped they were actually leading her in the right direction, and not playing some sort of elaborate game for their own entertainment. Perhaps she should ask Myrnai—nymphs were, after all, denizens of the world that Myrnai knew more intimately than perhaps any other living person.

  Dinner with the others was more subdued than usual—they were all starting to feel the strain of hiking through thick brush in hopes of finding something that may not be there. It didn’t help that around sunset it began to drizzle. Before long they were all soaked and chilled to the bone, despite the oilskin coverings for their bedrolls. Joran stoked the fire and added wood until it heated up their small clearing enough to take the edge off the chill. When it didn’t let up after an hour, Ky’ara finally took the risk and cast a shield spell to deflect the rain. They moved their beds as close to the fire as they dared, and watched as the water ran down the edges of an invisible umbrella that spanned the clearing. An hour later, Ky’ara had finally warmed up enough to go to sleep.

  * * * * *

  The night was dark. Clouds blocked the stars and cut off any light from the moon, weeping on the world. The soft drumming of rain against the roof momentarily woke Keerason from his stupor. He listened apathetically. The end was close. He could feel it. All his control had led to this moment. Keerason slipped from his body and into death. The rain stopped.

  Chapter 13: Echoes of the Past

  That night Ky’ara met Myrnai in her clearing as usual, but the atmosphere seemed…tense. The very air around them seemed darker. The whispers that usually persisted in the background were silent—but rather than being a relief, it felt sinister. As though the dead themselves dared not disturb whatever was coming. She sighed. First the rain, now this…wasn’t anywhere restful right now?

  “Something is changing,” Myrnai whispered before Ky’ara could ask, “You will need to be watchful.”

  “That is what t
he dryads told me too,” Ky’ara responded wearily. “I can only look out for so much—I’m wandering around in the forest trying to find a city that everyone says vanished, how much more watchful can I get?!”

  Myrnai raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” Ky’ara had the grace to look penitent. “I’m just a little on-edge. It’s been a long, frustrating, day.” She sighed and looked up at Myrnai with concern, “Am I an idiot for relying on nymphs to show me the way? Lauryn said they can be flighty…”

  The strangely-old young woman shook her head ruefully. “I never will understand the full power of an Ysinkai…if even the dryads are offering their help unasked and unpaid for then no, child, you are not a fool for letting the nymphs guide you. In my experience they are more likely to ignore you than help you—but if they do offer help it will be honestly given.”

  Ky’ara nodded, feeling at once relieved and still frustrated—if their help was so unusual but sincere, why did it feel like it wasn’t getting her anywhere?

  “Now,” Myrnai said briskly, “I do not know what has silenced the spirits, but perhaps tonight it would be prudent to slip out of this time-frame and give you some hands-on training in what to do—and what NOT to do—when you find yourself in the past.”

  Ky’ara started. “I thought you said that it was impossible to control?”

  “Nearly, my girl, nearly impossible. You seem to have the knack for it and I imagine if I don’t give you some training you’ll slip into another time again without me there to guide you…and then there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to return as easily as you did last time.”

  Ky’ara nodded. She was desperate for anything she could learn that might help her feel like she had control of things.

  “Control is an illusion, Ky’ara, even in the Dreamworld…especially in the Dreamworld,” Myrnai corrected herself, “Now pull yourself together. We certainly don’t want you projecting thoughts into people’s dreams while we’re back in time—who knows what repercussions that could have?”

  Ky’ara took a deep breath and centered her thoughts. While awake she kept her feelings closely guarded—why was it so hard to do it here too?

  “Now,” Myrnai was saying, “It’s incredibly important for you to stay with me. No stray thoughts about other moments in time and absolutely no more interfering. Arys may have intended for Taren to awaken a different way, or perhaps you were just responding to something in the spell she cast. We’ll never know now, but you can’t risk meddling in anything else.”

  “Ok, I get it,” Ky’ara replied, “I’ll stay close to you and try not to touch anything.”

  Myrnai narrowed her eyes at the girl for a moment, as though trying to decipher whether she was mocking her. Ky’ara smiled and gestured with a hand.

  “Shall we get on with it?”

  Myrnai nodded and sat down on the grass, motioning for the girl to join her. When they were both seated tailor’s style on the ground, Myrnai took Ky’ara’s hand and gripped it firmly. “Now, I am going to project my thoughts to you to bring you along to the right time. You need to keep your thoughts strictly controlled and focus on what I’m showing you. Got it?”

  Ky’ara cleared her thoughts, concentrating on the sound of Myrnai’s voice. What Myrnai was projecting were not so much images as they were feelings—impressions. A young girl exuding fear, loneliness, anger, along with an inkling of curiosity and hope…it was a memory of eight year old Lauryn as she was just before Myrnai had found her.

  “We’re here,” Myrnai said.

  Ky’ara didn’t realize she had closed her eyes, but when she opened them she found herself in an alleyway of the town where Myrnai had healed her. A faint light pulsed nearby.

  “Is that Lauryn?” Ky’ara asked, and Myrnai nodded.

  “It is easiest to travel to a time you have been. Emotions, impressions—they define an event far more clearly than a simple description.”

  Ky’ara thought about this for a moment. “But how did I end up where Taren was, then? I was halfway around the continent with no clue he existed two years ago when he woke up.”

  Myrnai shrugged “Accidental time-skipping can happen at the slightest thought…that’s why controlling your thoughts is so important here. Intentional time-travel, however, requires a great deal more concentration. I’ve illustrated how a strong attachment to an event makes it easier to travel to it, but it’s actually far more important for travelling back—which is essential, because as I said before, accidental time-skipping can happen far too easily. In order to get back to the proper time, you need to be able to control the shift.”

  “How can I tell if I’ve time-skipped though?” Ky’ara asked, “I never would have known I’d done it if Taren hadn’t been there…everything else looked the same.”

  “This is where it gets especially important for you to keep your thoughts to yourself,” Myrnai told her. She knelt next to the glowing light and closed her eyes carefully, holding her hands to it as though drawing heat from a fire. The thoughts she projected at Ky’ara were much the same as the ones that had led them here, but this time they were accompanied by images—Lauryn’s memories from that day

  “Don’t touch the light itself and don’t project anything. You could get sucked into their dreams and lost forever, or you could influence them in the past and who knows what damage that could do to the present?” Myrnai instructed her firmly, “The dreams of those around you are the best way to gauge what time you are in, but most of the time that will not matter so much. You can feel your connection with life and if it isn’t aligned with you, then you’ve time skipped. Knowing when you are just gives you a frame of reference for getting back to your own time.”

  Ky’ara listened carefully, filing it all away for further use. She was starting to think that five-hundred years had given Myrnai time to learn way too many things—which was useful because they were things that Ky’ara needed to know. But it also meant that she had literally centuries-worth of information that Ky’ara could not possibly learn, and the constant barrage of data was overwhelming.

  They lingered in that time for what felt like only moments—though Ky’ara was never really sure how much time passed here—before Myrnai moved them back to the meadow.

  “Anytime you find yourself in the Dreamworld it is important for you to concentrate for a moment and create an anchor to help you find your own time again.” Myrnai told her, “You have an advantage; because of your link to Joran you have an actual attachment to help you locate the correct time. But don’t let that make you less cautious. If you get lost in this realm even you could get trapped here forever…I’m concerned enough about the amount of time you’ve been here. Most mages can only project their consciousness for a few moments, to communicate with the fae. You’ve already been here much longer than is wise.”

  Ky’ara held her hands out helplessly. “I can’t help it,” she insisted, “believe me, I wish I could just sleep for once. My mind can’t handle much more of this! I spend the day slogging through wet foliage following who knows what, and my nights being bombarded with the technicalities of this shades-cursed ethereal realm I can’t seem to escape!”

  Myrnai just looked at her calmly, her eyes unreadable. “Are you finished?” she asked simple when the girl paused for breath. Ky’ara sighed and nodded, rubbing her temples to ward off a headache before she remembered that the physical motion would accomplish nothing here.

  “Good,” Myrnai said firmly, “I want to show you something else.”

  She took the girl’s hand again and a moment later the two of them were standing on a mountain path that led into a small valley surrounded by cliffs. The ever-present fog was thin here, more of a faint mist that gave everything a vague glow. Glittering red and gold scales gleamed as dragons darted this way and that. A waterfall poured from the mouth of a cave nearby and Ky’ara could see the flicker of naiads playing in the pool at the bottom.

  “This world is not all grey fog and murmuring spirit
s,” Myrnai whispered. “There is beauty and wonder here as well, if you know where to look.”

  Ky’ara stood with her and watched the peaceful valley for hours…days… moments. A dragon dove from a nearby ledge and streaked towards the ground below, disappearing in the blink of an eye. A thought occurred to Ky’ara and she turned to the woman next to her. “The Shaari were able to keep their dragons a secret for so long because they hide here, don’t they?”

  “Technically dragons exist here and just venture into our world when their Bonded need them,” Myrnai answered, holding up a hand when Ky’ara started to ask another question. “It’s not my place to expose what the Shaari choose to keep to themselves. If you want to know more, ask your friend about it. For now, you need to get back. It’s high time you got some sleep.”

  Ky’ara wanted to protest, but for once she actually felt the pull of ordinary slumber calling her. Moments later, she was gone. Myrnai remained on the cliff, watching the agile creatures dip and soar as they danced with the sky.

  * * * * *

  Taren sat at the edge of their encampment, keeping an eye on the trees. He had volunteered for the last watch—there was something about watching the sun rise that just seemed to start his day off right.

  Ky’ara stirred, a soft groan escaping her lips as she turned over. Taren glanced in her direction and couldn’t help smiling. She was perfect even in her sleep. The way her eyelids fluttered softly as she breathed in and out was endearing. The tiny smile that tugged at the right corner of her lips distracted him near completely from his task of watching what was outside their camp. Funny how he was so attuned to her already. The minute shifting, the eye movement—her waking patterns were ingrained in his memory so perfectly he could estimate when she would open her eyes half an hour before she did.

  He could tell, however, that her nightly forays into the Dreamworld were starting to take their toll. She was less alert when she awoke, more glassy-eyed as they rode, and slightly more irritable. It was a little strange for him, knowing how much time she was spending with Myrnai. He no longer loved Arys’s sister—at least not in the way he loved Ky’ara—but his memories of her were difficult to reconcile with the old woman she was now.