“I’m sorry my friends,” she said to the others. “Whether it is the Melting Grae or the stone, or this blade that has decided, it was not I. I welcome your friendship and I am indebted to your loyalty,” and without waiting for a response, Lydria stepped through and the gate closed with a snap like an open palm on flat water.
* * * * *
The Melting Grae seemed different than when she had visited the spirits who lived here before. She turned in a slow circle taking in a landscape that was familiar and alien. There were no animals here. No birds, no flying insects, no noise at all. Even the wind was silent, although the boughs of the trees moved with a soothing stillness. The brightness she had seen through the gate seemed muted now, far more than when she had visited as a spirit guest. She lifted her foot and saw the grass beneath her feet was crushed as if a hundred soldiers had run across it.
“We are not meant to be here,” Haustis said, nodding to her sister’s feet where the grass turned pale and dry under her steps. The Melting Grae is not a place for the living and the world reacts against us in the only way it knows how. At least, that’s how a meadow acts against us. Let us hope there is no reason to go into the sea or climb a mountain.”
Whether or not Haustis’ words were true, Lydria didn’t judge them. They were invaders here of that there was no mistake. “We need to find Wynter and be gone from this place. Despite the fine weather, I feel a chill running up my back.”
They found Hokra already moving across the meadow and down a small hill where at the bottom the there was a rise exposing bare rock to the sunlight. When they reached him, he was pushing his fingers against the rock, but they stood on its surface.
“This rock is not the same as the rock of Eigrae. It lives, but it is different somehow. It would feel disrespectful to put my hand into this stone.” His collar glowed slightly, and he rose several inches into the air before settling himself down again. “Magic works here, at least.” He lifted his hammer to his shoulder and turned toward Haustis and Lydria. “Where do we go from here?”
It was an excellent question and the two women exchanged glances that gave Hokra all the answer he needed. “Perhaps if we just pick a direction then, someone will turn up who we can talk to?” It was as good a plan as any and so they turned and walked, looking for signs of Wynter’s passing. If he had come this way, Haustis would be able to track him, Lydria was sure, especially with the very ground working to give away the position of the living.
They walked for what Lydria judged was more than two hours when she stopped. “I don’t think the sun has moved.”
The comment was met with silence as Hokra and Haustis considered the sun and their relationship to it. “No, it has not. This is the afterlife of a people who love sunshine. It is unlikely that in the afterlife darkness would have much place. I think we must assume the sun is steady in the sky.” Haustis leaned on her spear for a moment and turned her face to the sun, a smaller, brighter sun than Eigrae’s, and smiled as it warmed her face. “I think, I could quite learn to like this. Permanent sunshine and no rain, no winter.”
“I too am fine with no Wynter,” Hokra said, chuckling at his own play on words. “The brightness of the sun is unfamiliar to my eyes,” he said as they began walking again. “The sun of Eigrae burns, but this sun is painless. I could keep my eyes wide in this glow without end.”
The scenery changed slowly, from open fields to rolling hills with thin trees and shrubs overflowing with berries. “Do you think the berries are good? I feel like I should be very hungry.” Hokra headed toward the shrubs before either of the others could answer. Haustis held Lydria’s arm as she started to warn the Chag against eating wild berries. “Sister, this is the Melting Grae. Why would there be poisonous fruit here? If ever I were to make camp and not set a watch, this is the place I would do such a thing.”
“Do we have to eat here, or sleep?”
“I do not know, though I think not. Hokra is reacting how a living person would react to not eating. He did not say he was hungry. He said he felt he should be hungry. Perhaps I am wrong, and we will all be tired and hungry soon.” Haustis considered her answer and the implications of simply surviving in a place with no animals and only berries to eat if, in fact, they did need to eat and sleep. “It is well Pars suggested we pack. If Hokra is correct, we will need all of this and likely more before all is said and done.”
The prince of the Chag Ca’Grae wandered back from the bush with his tunic held out in front of him like a tan basket loaded with bright red raspberries, a smooth-skinned maroon berry, and several large orange fruits shaped like elongated apples. Together it looked like the fall mountains of Eigrae had exploded their colors into the Chags’ tunic in the form of food. “Help yourself,” he said, cheered by having found fresh food. “We don’t know when we may come upon these again.”
The three continued on, eating handfuls of berries from Hokra’s tunic until they were gone, but never feeling hungry or fulfilled. Hours later they realized the bushes of the Melting Grae hung heavy with fruit over almost every hill and around nearly every bend. But it was the thought of food that made them stop again, when they saw a small lake and Hokra asked if they thought the lake held fish.
“I doubt it.” Haustis’ answer told him she didn’t feel hunger and that he should give less importance to food and more to finding Wynter.
From their view, the lake was more like a pond. It could be walked around in a morning, but looking closely, Lydria noticed what she thought were buildings behind trees by the shoreline. “It stands to reason people would have places to stay in the afterlife, doesn’t it?” she looked to Haustis, her head inclined slightly to the side and the brow over her blue eye raised.
“Out of habit if nothing else, I would expect so. Let us see who lives by this pond.”
6-Foreigners
The first person to see Lydria and the others coming down the narrow pathway toward the small cluster of houses was a small Eifen girl. The base of her ears was more pronounced against her small head, but her ears twitched for a moment until they pointed straight at them. Her eyes were wide with surprise and her face broke into a smile that was unmatched by any brightness the sun provided. “Visitors, we have visitors!” She jumped in place until several adults came to her side.
The grown Eifen watched Lydria’s approach with something less than satisfaction. Only the presence of Haustis kept them from becoming inhospitable or openly hostile.
“Who are you and why do you come? How did you arrive in the Melting Grae?” The man who spoke was no older than the rest, but seemed to change as he spoke, becoming older, shorter, more hunched, wiser. “You do not belong here.”
“I am Haustis of the Eifen who until recently lived in Eifynar, east of the Great Lake. And these are my friends, wielders of magic; Lydria of Wesolk, also east of the Great Lake, and Prince Hokra of the Chag Ca’Grae of Safarngal, south and west of the same lake. Who do we have the honor to speak with?”
The name of Haustis still had some power in the Melting Grae, for when she spoke it, the adults visibly relaxed and the old man became younger again. Growing before their eyes, his skin smoothing, and his hair returning to a night-dark black. His eyes searched those of the wielders before he turned his attention again to the ebony warrior in front of him.
“Come Haustis, sit by our fire. Tell us your story.”
For the story, the child by the path and other children in the small village took the forms of young adults, and together they sat and Haustis told the tale of Wynter, the coming of magic and the events that had forced them to make the journey into the Melting Grae. A journey, Haustis assured them, they would end as quickly as possible. What Haustis did not tell them was that they thought Wynter might be headed toward the Nethyn Plains. It was her intent to see if the people of the Melting Grae would tell her something of the Nethyn Plains she did not know, or something that might give her a clue as to what Wynter might seek there.
“We do not
wish to intrude here, but we must,” Haustis completed her story. “Several from this place of peace have arrived into Eigrae and within moments of their arrival become dust.” There were gasps from some of the Eifen as they understood the meaning of such a second death.
“Then it is true,” the old man spoke again. “I was the drae of my people, from east of Eigraenal, but far to the west of the Great Lake of which you speak. And we have been here on the shores of this pond since before the time of Wilmamen. Yes,” he said, holding his hands out, palms down to calm the looks of the three livings in their midst. “The story of Wilmamen has come to the Melting Grae as certainly as it travels on Eigrae. As I’m sure your stories will find their way here eventually as well. As we have heard it, Wilmamen did not come to the Melting Grae, despite her grand sacrifice and heroic death at the hands of the treacherous Qorghal. No, it has been said that her forging of a weapon has led to her being imprisoned in the Plains.”
“The Plains?” Haustis said calmly, giving away nothing of her knowledge of that place.
“The Plains are where those who have actively sought The Grey are imprisoned when they leave Eigrae. Over the centuries there have been many, though not so many since Wilmamen’s time.”
“Excuse me, but do not all people spend time in The Grey. Moving up and down the circle of life?”
“That is true, Haustis. However, rarely do people seek out such struggles,” the drae said. “But there are always a few who believe they can live in The Grey and not succumb to its power. There is power in The Grey, do not be fooled. Believing that you are right, and willing to let any number of ills justify your ambition, your arrogance – that is not something that is compatible with a peaceful existence, either in Eigrae or here. And yes, many people drift into and out of The Grey, but few strive to stay there. When Wilmamen created the Sword of True Death, she knowingly placed herself in the heart of The Grey with no concern for consequences known or unknown. That she believed she was stopping a greater evil – well, that is the dying gasp of every madman the world has ever known.”
Haustis stared at the man’s eyes and couldn’t disagree with him. For as much as the spirits had been part of her life and her culture, she knew it was better that the path to the spirits be blocked than for there to be such a path to true death unwillingly thrust upon the dead.
Seeing quickly how he had discouraged the Haustis and her friends by this news of Wilmamen, the drae decided to explain a little of the Melting Grae. “There are ever people who hold too dearly to things that do not matter in the grand scheme of our lifetimes. Many among us came here very early, barely babes on Eigrae. Here, we can choose our age to suit our mood, or need. Often you will see young Eifen playing on the paths, happy to stay in that state of grace such as childhood provides.”
“Excuse me.” It was Hokra, who had remained quiet and seemed to have gone quite unnoticed despite his stature and race. “Is this place only for the Eifen then? Are there no humans, or Chag Ca’Grae, or others?”
“This Melting Grae is the home for the Eifen according to our beliefs. Others, I have heard, have similar places according to their own. But you will find humans and others who find their way here. Souls joined in love on Eigrae are not separated when they leave that place. Most who come here choose a form that is like to this place, but some maintain their living countenance. Those who come here when they leave Eigrae sometimes stay a very long time before leaving, and some choose to pass on sooner. We are all called in our own time to a second death, or a true death. But when the true death is chosen, some believe there is an even greater place that awaits. Most, however, believe that beyond the Melting Grae lies only silence.”
“Is there a way to reach other realms through the Melting Grae?” Lydria asked.
“That I do not know and would have no way to know.”
Lydria looked at Haustis and nodded, and the Eifen spoke openly to the drae and his people. “A human man has found the Sword of True Death, the weapon Wilmamen forged, and he roams the Melting Grae even now. We believe he attempts to find his son, of two human parents. We fear that if he cannot find his son, he may seek the Nethyn Plains.”
The look of anxiety upon the drae and his family was very real, as the prospect of a second death at the blade of the Sword of True Death was more disturbing than their first. “I cannot help you, Haustis, though it saddens me.”
“Father, I have heard strange noises, over the hills. I can take the Haustis to them.”
“This is my daughter, Wen’Gal, the running river. Ever has it been so that she runs and finds things far away. She will lead you. Whether her road leads to your destination, I do not know, but we have no better paths to offer.”
“And we have no better paths to choose.” Haustis smiled warmly at the drae and those who sat nearby and thanked them for their assistance. Lydria and Hokra gave their farewells and followed Wen’Gal who almost immediately shifted into the form of a young woman of perhaps fifteen, who began to run across the green fields.
They ran for a long time, and they did not tire. They felt stronger than when on Eigrae. Their muscles didn’t tighten or cramp, their breathing came easy and sweat did not form across their brows. Across the fields and low hills, there was nothing to disturb their pace. Finally, after what seemed like hours of tireless running through unending perfection, another small cluster of houses were just visible beyond a tree line at the opposite end of a large, golden field of shin-high grass.
Before they had made it halfway across the field a single man came to greet them, running toward them as they ran toward him.
“Stop. Come no further. You and your kind are not welcome here.”
Wen’Gal stepped forward and spoke quickly, not allowing the man to say more. “This is Haustis from east of the Great Lake, and she needs information to find a living who has entered the Melting Grae.”
At the mention of Haustis, the man’s bearing eased, and he noticeably relaxed. Wen’Gal had returned to an adult version of herself and it was clear at once that she and the man who stood before them were known to each other. His cheeks reddened slightly and Lydria noticed his eyelid twitched several times before he turned to speak to Haustis.
“A living man, his flesh burned in many places except in a curious band around his neck, came through not long ago.” The man settled, as if he considered what he had seen. “He also carried a curious sword, although at first I thought it was a hole that followed him. It was odd, but as he came closer, I could see the outline of a two-bladed weapon, a design I have never seen nor heard of before. Anywhere the point of darkness touched the ground, it killed the grass and plants.”
“Did you speak to him?” Hokra’s voice rose with an open excitement to learn something that might help them on their quest.
“Yes. In fact, he said he had been recently asleep before being woken by a voice. He was looking for the voice.”
“Did he say how he came to be here?” Haustis exchanged a glance with Lydria, neither of whom felt they fully understood the man’s words.
“He did not. He said he felt light-headed, however, and remembered little. Only the voice pulling him from his slumber.” The man paused as if he were trying to determine whether to tell the livings more. Looking at Wen’Gal, who nodded and smiled at him, he went on. “He said he sat by a small lake for a long time, feeling content and happy, but out of place, as if he didn’t belong. Still, he said he was serene for perhaps the first time in his life. Of the sword, he said it felt like it belonged to him, and he could not bear to part with it. When he put the point in the ground in front of him, leaning on it as one would a stick, then we knew it was no normal sword and he did not belong here.”
Wen’Gal held the man’s hand and squeezed his fingers, picking up the story. “Haustis, the drae would not have welcomed me saying so much when we sat by his fire, but I tell you truly, I have seen Farn’Nethyn weapons. I have crafted such weapons in my own time long ago, but the sword he wields is
beyond any skill ever possessed by my people. When at first the point of the blade touched the ground by our feet, all of us could feel despair – the first time any such feeling has lived within our breasts since we arrived in the Melting Grae.”
When confronted with the reality of the Sword of True Death, the man nodded, as if her words confirmed a thing he knew to be true. “There has been a story that a man from a nearby community was pulled from his family. They say he was pulled into the ground in the space of two eyeblinks. They have not heard from him since. Since that time, we have been careful not to tread where the man you seek has traveled. The blade leaves a scar upon the ground, and we believe that if we were to get too close to such a scar, we would be lost. When he was here, he left such a mark, but we gave it wide berth and covered it as best we could.”
Wen’Gal and the man spoke quietly together before she came back to Haustis and pointed in the direction the man traveled. “The man you seek spoke only of someone named Sol and said nothing of the Nethyn Plains. Now, I will go back to my people and we will prepare ourselves for the True Death. Better to take that journey on our own terms, then wait to see who is pulled away from us only to be sent back to Eigrae and turned to dust. Good luck.” Wen’Gal, hugged each of them and then waved to the man who had already started walking back toward the trees.
7-G’Brin
Walking away from Wen’Gal, Lydria and the others were happy at least that it seemed Wynter did not have a large lead on them. That they had a direction to follow also left them more confident they could reach him – possibly before he even heard of the Nethyn Plains.
The news of the arrival of a living, however, traveled fast; and the news of three additional livings even faster.
They ran across the fields, spread out so they could search the ground for signs of Wynter’s movement. It didn’t take long before Hokra found the first sign they still followed a true course.
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