NeverSleep

by Brindi Quinn

  The wood is alive with the buzz of Gold-consuming insects, notable by the glow of their husks. Enormous flutterflies, wings striped golden, flit here and there and wherever they may please.

  “How many people live here?” I bid Pedj to ask.

  “Some,” says Armani.

  “Did you come here before or after the disease?” asks Feligo.

  But to this, Armani cocks her head in child’s wonder. “What disease?”

  “You know,” urges Pedj. “The sleepness – what happened to everyone what ain’t necromancer or other magickal being.”

  Armani tugs on Feligo’s sleeve. “Tell him to stop lying.”

  From within, the Maestro shines with calculation. Either the girl was spared the truth by her parents, or this place was not affected by the atrocity that claimed the rest of the world. The former is most likely, yes, but the feel of this place is unique. A nexus?

  For now, I do not know what to think.

  “Strangers never, ever come,” says Armani. She pushes aside a fold of willow branches, revealing a path. “Then that stranger came, and now you’re here.”

  “Another stranger, you say?” says Feligo.

  “He wasn’t the one,” says Armani, skipping along the overrun path. “Maybe one of you is the one. Come on, slow pokes.”

  With that, she disappears into the greenery.

  “Uhhh.” Pedj scratches at his neck. “It just me, or is someffin’ off ‘bout her.”

  “Something is off about this whole place!” I say. “But she knows something. And her people know something. And we are strong. With your power, Pedjram, you can blast away any threat.”

  “Yeah, so long as it’s a dark freat,” he says, mouth full of crystal. “Won’t do much good if we get on facin’ other necromancers.”

  “Be that as it may, Feligo is a skilled swordsman on his own. Additionally, we have the means to flee if necessary. Come! Let us go!”

  “But what ‘bout Awyer?” says Pedj.

  Ah.

  “Think it’s oka if we leave him?” says Pedj.

  “CERTAINLY NOT!” I lash. “Where I go, he goes. I just need to figure out how, that is all . . .” I survey the land for resource. Finding nothing of use, I stall. Aye, Feligo and I could enchant my pactor to suspend again, but then we would be left without enchant for defense. Hence, it is with a regretful heart that I commission the Maestro to carry my resting pactor using physical means.

  “With pleasure, fae! Naturally, it is my duty to care for those who can’t care for themselves!”

  This is how Awyer came to be carried by a braided man.

  I zip to the front of the group because I cannot bear to see my strong sphinx in such a state. In the tangle of vegetation, the girl is lost to us. Luckily, there is only one path by which we may continue. Hither to yon, we pursue the girl, until the trail at last spits us out into a clearing. The clearing is vast and dotted with small farmsteads complete with fenced off portions and outbuildings. And that is not all. A small community of men, women, and children gathers in wait. At the gathering’s head is Armani, rocking on her heels impatiently; to her side stands a wrinkled man in a periwinkle jumpsuit.

  “This is them, Granddar.”

  “Salutations,” says the man who is presumably Armani’s grandfather. “And welcome to Cascade Yel’ram.”

  Yet holding my pactor, the silverfox steps forth. “I am Maestro Feligo of Azuria!” he proclaims. “And this is my associate Pedj, a Bloődite mancer!”

  “Sociate?” says Pedj.

  “And him?” The man nods at Awyer.

  “A fallen friend.”

  “We are the Third of the Yel’ram Eight,” says the man. “Are you here to kill us?”

  “Whaaa?” Pedj’s mouth falls. “N-no! ‘Course we ain’t!”

  “Then please, dine with me and tell how you came to enter Cascade Yel’ram.”

  With nothing more than that, the crowd dispenses, back to their daily tidings, and the periwinkle man beckons us to follow him into one of the farmhouses.

  Peculiar.

  “Gwim?” Pedj whispers for approval.

  “I do not reckon that we are in danger. Follow the man, but do not let your lips be loose, and for the love of the Vessel, walk slowly so that I may conceal my shadow in yours.”

  The interior of the home is small and without modernity. Cupboards line the walls, stacked with porcelain mugs and glassy vials. Dried herbs hang in bunches – though they are not stale as the ones found in Ensecré’s storerooms were stale.

  The entry room opens to a bedroom adjacent, wherein a quilted bed shows through the doorway. “Your ‘fallen friend’ can rest in there, if you’d like,” the man gestures and says.

  Feligo, who tires from carrying the weight of Awyer’s muscle and bone, does not wait for my approval. He proceeds to place Awyer atop the blankets, and then immediately moves to undo the braid in his hair.

  “Awwww!” Armani begins a bawl.

  “Enough, Armani. Go play,” says the periwinkle man.

  She does so with tantrumous reluctance. From a desk near the door, Armani’s grandfather takes a pair of small-framed spectacles and places them on his nose.

  “If I offer you a drink, will you drink it?” he says.

  Feligo’s jaw holds firm, but Pedj’s hand shoots into the air. “Sure! What you got?!”

  “Is there something in your mouth?” says the man.

  Alike a caught child, Pedj holds his hands over his mouth. “Nope!”

  “Zombie!” I scold. “Your behavior is far too suspicious!”

  But the man takes no further notice as he begins to monkey with his glasses. Pressed against his cheeks, they give him a bug-eyed appearance. “Anyway, I can offer you a chalice of rosebeer.” He looks at Feligo and adds, “I won’t poison you.”

  “Ha! Thanks for the assurance . . .” says Feligo, on his guard. Even now, his hilt is tightly clutched.

  “I just thought I should let you know. You’ve got a distrustful face. You said you’re a soldier, so I expect that fits. Anyway, a spot of unpoisoned rosebeer for you, then?” Without waiting for answer, the periwinkle man fills three squat glasses with blush-colored liquid from a bottle in his icebox, and sets them onto a well-used table at the side of the room. “Sit, sit,” he says and only once Pedj and Feligo have obliged does he offer his name: “Call me Sanjuel.”

  “Sanjuel,” repeats Feligo with a proper tip of his head.

  “Well, ask away,” says Sanjuel. “And then it’s my turn.” He positions his glasses so that his eyes are magnified even larger. He uses them as a coercive technique, drilling the buggy things into Feligo until he cracks –

  “You said you are the ‘Third’ of the ‘Yel’ram Eight’?”

  “Yes,” says Sanjuel.

  Feligo thrusts a pointed finger at him. “What does that mean?”

  “There are eight islands of Cascade Yel’ram. Eight districts. The Eight surround the Cascade. This is the third of eight lifted islands. Accordingly, we who live here are the Third.”

  “Have you long inhabited this land,” I ask via my new confidant.

  “Very long.”

  “Since before the disease?” says Feligo.

  “Disease . . .? My word, you mean the one that put everyone to sleep?”

  The secondhand nature with which he refers to the curse is uncanny. “Surely you have heard of it!” I exclaim through Pedj.

  “Yes, I heard about it from someone else who recently came to this village. And yes, we’ve lived here since before that.”

  Then it is true. No one in this place was affected. Does it mean that all who live here are necromancers too? What is more – Sanjuel’s mention of someone else having recently arrived in Yel’ram . . . Armani also made mention of a stranger.

  “This other stranger, is he yet in Yel’ram?” I ask.

  Sanjuel nods. “He’s at the Fourth. He hasn’t said much about himself, but he seems to be waiting around for som
ething. Always on edge, that one is.”

  Again, Feligo points with flair for no apparent reason, adding drama where drama is not due. “And what does the stranger look like!?” he crows.

  Sanjuel takes a drink from his cup. “He’s tall – sorta. With dark hair and dark power.”

  The Maestro stiffens.

  Perhaps there was need for drama after all.

  “Dark hair and dark power?!” I repeat, making Pedj jump.

  “That’s . . .” Feligo realizes it too.

  “Do you think he means Techton?!” I shout at Pedj. “Did Techton and Mael reach this place before us?! Ask if he was accompanied by a sultry woman!” The zombie’s breathing quickens to match pace with his pulse. My mistake. My outburst has him riled.

  “Wait,” I say. “Calm yourself before you ask.”

  “Then you need to shut up!” Pedj growls under his breath.

  “I beg your pardon?” says Sanjuel.

  Feligo rubs his temple.

  “Uh! Eh–” Pedj smiles in a suspicion-arousing manner. “Was the guy alone?”

  “Yes, he came by himself. He hasn’t told anyone his name, so we’ve just been calling him ‘Visitor’. Doesn’t make for the best company, that one. Got under my wife’s skin, as well as a couple of the other ladies. They had a bad feeling about him, so we sent him off to the Fourth.”

  A man that puts women on edge! It is sounding more and more like Techton! But what has he done with Mael?!

  I force myself to remain calm for Pedj’s sake. “Speak to him this–” I instruct. “Your granddaughter mentioned that ‘Visitor’ wasn’t ‘the one’. What did she mean by that?”

  Sanjuel takes another sip of his brew before clicking his tongue at the ceiling. “The Eight protect a Truth. One day, that Truth will come to light. Yel’ram has waited a long time for the one who’ll bring it to light.”

  “Aha!” says Feligo reproachfully, and then, “ . . . Er, what Truth?”

  Sanjuel does not answer straightaway. Instead he eyes the swirled crest upon Feligo’s armor. “You’re an Azurian?”

  “Why yes!”

  Sanjuel adjusts his glasses to inspect Feligo’s pleasant features. “Visitor said that everyone who wasn’t of the old races came under that sleeping spell . . .”

  Roundaboutly he seeks to know Feligo’s race.

  “I’m also a silvie,” says the Maestro, less boisterously. “A silverfox.”

  “An Azurian silverfox . . . and yet you travel alongside a Bloődite necromancer?”

  “Yeah, so?” says Pedj.

  The periwinkle man shifts his inspection from Feligo to Pedj. “Are you his prisoner?”

  “Eh?! Heck naw!”

  “Slave?” says Sanjuel.

  “N-no! Why’d you even get on thinkin’ that?!”

  “Pet?”

  “Hoop?! Just stop guessin’! We’s travelin’ companion’s all!”

  Sanjuel pauses. “Then I’m to assume the Kerr Attack is over?”

  Ah. In the chaos of the sleepness, word of the Azurian army’s disassembly has yet to reach this place.

  “The Second Kerr Crusade was abolished shortly after its conception,” says Feligo. “It was all a misunderstanding. Blame was falsely placed on the Bloődites. Our government is prepared to assist in the rebuilding of any damages caused in–”

  “What’s is, is this croop here jumped the gun.” Pedj points to the Maestro with his thumb.

  Again, I see no gun.

  “Second?” says Sanjuel. “So there was a second . . .” His bugged eyes probe. “That is unfortunate.”

  “What, you mean you was talkin’ ‘bout the first?!” says Pedj.

  Sanjuel folds his hands. “What happened to King Resh and his seven evil councilmen?”

  Truly?! Even I, who was cut off from the world for a thousand years, have been recounted this story!

  “They’re gone,” says Feligo. “King Resh was replaced by King Jerigo. Order was restored, and the Bloődites and Azurians formed an alliance to search for the lost Amethyst City.”

  There is silence, but for the outside murmur of villagers conversing. From somewhere within the home, a beam creaks. Cracks of sunlight trail in from a curtained window. In the adjacent room, Awyer sleeps, ever unmoving, ever still.

  Sanjuel takes the final swallow of his beer. “It was always about Amethyst,” he says with regret. “That’s what sent us here in the first place.”

  Feligo opens his mouth to speak something, but decides against it.

  “What do you mean?” Pedj fills the silence.

  “At that time, we were next to go over the wall. So we did what we had to do.”

  Over the wall? Over the . . .

  “There’s another part of the story that the Bloődites don’t know about. No Azurian would ever mention it in front of one of them because, well, it’s horrible.” Techton’s discomfort shows in the way he fiddles with his rightmost earring. “As rumor has it, during the Kerr Crusade, a group of the more unethical men of the royal army forced Bloődite rustics up the Gated Rise. . . . They were working under the instruction of one of the seven evil councilmen. The guy was adamant that a surplus of power existed beyond the Gate of the West.”

  By the time I have recalled the full memory, it is too late. Sanjuel has already spoken aloud that which Techton admitted to Awyer and me all those days ago. The grueling truth, kept from Pedj and Mael for their sakes – regrettably, it has fallen upon Bloődite ears.

  The ex-zombie’s eyes widen. His teeth set into a grinding pattern deeper than is safe.

  “Pedj! I know that this comes as a shock to you, but keep in mind that there are far worse atrocities covered by history! If there is one thing I have come to learn, it is that all peoples are wronged by other nations at some point or another. The sins of the past do not always transfer to the souls of the present. Think carefully before you begin–”

  He spits the voided crystal into his palm and I am made invisible again.

  “You . . . your people . . . and you still decided to become a knight?! And you had the gall to get on startin’ up the SECOND KERR ATTACK KNOWING ALL THAT?!”

  My advice did nothing. Pedj has already started with the accusations. Seeking restitution, he targets the only Azurian within reach. There is nothing I may do. Pedj will take it out on Feligo, and who knows how many of our secrets will be shed in the process. Rage in the presence of a stranger is unwise.

  “WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY, BLUE SMOKER?!” But if Pedj expects the Maestro to react with guilt, he is wholly mistaken.

  “Hold your tongue!” Feligo jumps from his seat in an uproar. “I became a knight to repent for the actions of my people! Though it took place before either of us was alive, I was born with a firm fist of justice! If innocents are at risk, I’ll use my power to come to their aid!”

  “Come to their aid?! That ain’t what you CRANKIN’ did to those rustic folks! Thems was defenseless! You FIRED on them without mercy! AND FOR NO REASON! THERE WAS GALS AND KIPPERS THERE, TOO!”

  Feligo scowls. “I was fooled, fed rumors that your people possessed the Amethyst and were using it to exploit Azurian outlanders!”

  “Still!” Pedj yells.

  “Fault me if you want, but then you’ll have no choice but to fault yourself for aiding in the destruction of the world!”

  “DO NOT SAY SOMETHING SO RECKLESS IN THE PRESENCE OF A STRANGER!” I cry, to no avail.

  “Psh! It ain’t my fault the world got wrecked! I didn’t know the truth!”

  “Precisely!” says Feligo. He lets fall his scowl. “And neither did I.”

  “But–! But–! Aw, hell.” As quickly as he is riled, the ex-zombie is unwound. “Guess that’s true. After all, was that croop Bexwin what got you thinkin’ we Bloődites was to blame. But so’s you know, I ain’t your friend right now, CROOP.”

  “I believe I can live with that.”

  Both men slam into their chairs irritably and look to Sanjuel. If anything has
been ruined by their careless declarations, it does not show on the old man’s face. He picks up right where he left off.

  “Anyway, we were next to go over the wall, me and some of the other young bucks from my hometown, so we fled. We didn’t mean to hit Azure territory; we just sorta stumbled into it. That’s when we found the necromancers’ best kept secret.” He pauses for effect. “THIS! A safehouse inside Azure territory, accessible only by necromancers – or at least it was . . . until recently.” He tips his head at Feligo. “Aside from Visitor, you’re the first non-necromancer to ever come to Cascade Yel’ram.”

  “Only us necromancers could get in before?” says Pedj.

  “We dead-raisers were the only ones it existed for. Anyone else – even a plain non-raiser Bloődite – would pass through without ever knowing we were here.”

  “Then you mean to say that this place was concealed, as how the Amethyst City was concealed?” says Feligo.

  “No,” I speak to unhearing Pedj. “Eldrade was protected by Gold and Amethyst. This place differs, though I cannot exactly discern how.”

  “Yes, it was concealed,” Sanjuel annunciates, adjusting his glasses. “Though unless you’re the ONE, I can’t tell you how.”

  “Lemme get this straight,” says Pedj, “you’ve lived here undetected since then? But that was over fifty years ago!”

  “Forty-eight,” I correct, though I am unheard. Unpleasant. I tire quickly of being unreal. Careful to hide my shadow, I pass through Pedj as a reminder to return the crystal. Alas, he does not respond.

  Sanjuel nods. “When we got here, there were others already here, all escapees of some great tragedy or another.”

  “How come we never heard of this place? I heard of Yel’ram before, but never ‘Cascade Yel’ram’. What’s the difference?” says Pedj.

  A twinkle arises in the old man’s eye. “See, they are one in the same.”

  Truly?!

  “They are?” I say aloud. “But how–” A second time, I pass through my new confidant. He does nothing but let off a profuse shiver. “Zombie! There are things I must ask! Cease your ignorance of me!”