by Greg Curtis
They were in trouble.
Chapter Fifty Two
It was a good morning in Stonely. Chy was drinking his tea and eating his toast and feeling happy about things. Too happy really and he felt a little guilty for it. Because it was also a morning tinged with sadness and worry. Even as the sun was shining, warming him through, and he was feeling good about having spent yet another night in Elodie's bed, the news about the battles in N'Diel was spreading.
The advance into the sprites' realm was slowing. Casualties were starting to rise. And there were no more casters being sent to the battle. Or rather no more volunteers being taught the spell.
When the thrones had woken up they had lost a powerful weapon in their fight against the ruined temple. In fact what had looked like it would be a wondrous victory was turning into painful and bloody draw that didn't look like it was ever going to end, and it might even become a loss.
They could lose. The sprites or the ruined temple could win. And the people of Stonely might never return. They might never come home.
But maybe he was being too gloomy about things. Chy tried to tell himself that as he sipped at his tea. Because even though things were being slowed, their people were still fighting. Now instead of parties of twenty, each band had grown to fifty as they'd started merging. And maybe while that meant that fewer towns were liberated every day, it still meant they advanced. And with fewer casualties. It could be that the war would just take longer, that was all.
“You seem dour today.” Light joined him in the front garden. “All is well with Elodie?”
“All is well,” he reassured her. The ancients were very attached to their guardian. To their Elodie. He couldn't blame them for that. It seemed a very reasonable thing to him.
“You're not …?” her voice trailed off.
“No we're not. We're very happy.” And in fact they would have slept in a little and been even more happy if it wasn't for the fact that the boarding house was running low on supplies like porridge and milk. So Elodie had left at first light with some carry bags, and he would soon no doubt be rushing off to some other far off town he'd never heard of, to deal with yet another crisis. But at least, he guessed, it was steady work. He wasn't rushed off his feet or spending long periods of boredom waiting for the next one. The leaders seemed to have things running smoothly. There was even time for the occasional day off.
Of course while he was off battling who knew what each day, he wasn't mining precious stones. And his jar of coin was slowly emptying. If it wasn't for the fact that he no longer had to buy pearls, it would be empty by now. And for the fact that he could get a lot of his supplies for free, as everything in Stonely was free to him.
“You seem … stronger,” he told the ancient – partly because he didn't want to talk about him and Elodie, and partly because it was true. They'd been here in Stonely for two weeks now, and in that time their confusion had steadily faded and they had grown more sure of things. They didn't have to keep repeating the same questions over and over again. Maybe that was just the passage of time. Maybe they were continuing with their waking up. Things around them weren't so new any more. Time was as they said, the great healer.
“I feel stronger. Things fall into order bit by bit.”
“Good.” And it was good. He liked the thrones. They were actually good people. But they still had a lot of healing to do.
“Do you remember your name yet?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But I know my face in the mirror. And I have flashes of people I knew. I think. Memories.”
Chy sighed gently when she said that. He couldn't imagine what she and the others must have been through. Ten thousand years or more existing as a corpse under a statue? Who could possibly understand such a thing? And he wasn't at all certain that she or any of the others would ever fully recover.
“I'm sure it'll get better.”
“I hope so. But then what? This is such a strange world. Everyone looks so odd. Almost like outlanders. And your magic, so strange. Why do you not enchant properly?”
“And yet we are all the same. We are all your descendants. Whether we are ogres or giants or dwarves or even humans, the same blood, your blood, flows through our veins.” That much was obvious to him, though he understood others still disagreed with him. They didn't want to believe that they had descended from the ancients. Not least because the ancients were such strange looking people. That hedgehog hair of theirs shocked and the ears that hung so strangely kept making people look twice at them. And the ice blue eyes, there was something in them that simply fascinated.
As for the magic, he wasn't sure what to think about it. Lots of that didn't make sense to him. These were ancients. They enchanted. Yet somehow when they'd been frozen in stone, they'd been enchanted to cast properly and even to teach how to cast. But now that they were free, they were back to how they had been. He shook his head a little at the thought. Some days the world didn't make a lot of sense.
“So do you remember any more of your world?”
“A bit. Wisps of dreams. Pieces of dreams. And most of it bad. I remember that people were frightened. Trapped. And building defences.”
And one of those defences Chy was sure, was the portal wall that had surrounded the volcano. No one had been able to confirm it for him, but he was sure that unlike all the others, it was a fortification. The others were a giant weapon of confusion and chaos. But if you could pass through them, you would simply end up somewhere else in the world. The one around the volcano killed. And it had only been raised when the Temple had been attacked – while all the others had slowly started coming down instead at the same time.
As far as he could be sure, the sprites had been desperate. Trapped on the terrace and starving to death. They'd attacked the Temple with some sort of enchantment, and the Temple had responded. Elodie had said that the Heartfire had started raging almost completely out of control. And then the fortification around the Temple had been raised. Obviously the sprites had triggered something. But then, the raising of that fortification had triggered something else. And the ancient walls that had divided the world into pieces, had started crumbling. One by one. It was as though the sprites had found a dry stacked stone wall and pulled out the first piece. And from there the rest had started falling, each piece of the wall that fell away, causing another to do the same. Soon there would be only rubble remaining.
But that was guesswork only. And what this woman or throne could tell him about any of it, seemed limited. But still he was curious. So he kept asking questions.
“The Emperor?”
“A name only. And a feeling of loss. Like losing a father.”
Chy could understand that, he supposed. Even though it struck him that this ancient emperor had done some terrible things. Creating his ancestors, imprisoning them, experimenting on them. And why? All in the name of power. At least that was what he guessed. But different times and different people. And maybe there had been another motive for what had been done. Maybe too he had done good things as well as evil.
Besides, his ancestors hadn't been without fault. Raising the portal walls and shattering the world into pieces had been a terrible thing to do. Maybe it had been done out of desperation, but even so it was a monstrous crime. There was a reason that Light's memories of those times were full of frightened people.
“I'm sure more will return to you in time. And while this world my be strange, it's also an adventure. A chance to explore.” Something that was becoming obvious to him each time he saw so many different people of so many different races, wandering down the street in front of him. Things were strange, especially here in Stonely. And maybe they were even a little frightening at times for the locals. But that was the nature of change.
“You are different to how I remember. Bolder. Wiser.” Light stared at him curiously. “I think it is a good thing.”
“And I do a lot less screaming too I'd guess!” He managed half a laugh. But he still didn't understan
d that. Why it had always hurt so much to sit on one of the thrones. Especially now that he knew the thrones, and they seemed like decent people. They couldn't have done it deliberately he thought. Maybe it was just the nature of that sort of magic.
A look of pain suddenly came over the throne's face, and immediately he saw it, Chy knew he had said something wrong. She believed that his pain was her fault. And he couldn't have that.
“Please!” He held up his hand to stop her saying anything. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was just a jest and one in poor taste. I do not blame you for anything. Least of all that.”
But even as he apologised he knew it was too little, too late. He should never have made his joke. She didn't deserve it. And she had enough of her own trouble to deal with without him adding to it.
“And I'm sorry too. I don't know why I hurt you. I don't even know how it happened. I'm sure I didn't intend to. I would never want to cause pain to another. It goes against everything I hold dear. Even if I don't know who I am, I know that.”
“I believe you,” Chy replied. “It's just not who you are. Who any of you are.” And it wasn't. He didn't know much about the thrones – how could he when they didn't know much about themselves? But he was sure of that. They were good people. Kind people. To hurt someone would be a betrayal of all they were.
Chy was about to say that when a thought struck him. Actually it was less than a thought, it was a single word – but a word that explained everything – Betrayal.
He stared at the throne in shock, his cup of tea half way to his mouth, and the pieces of the puzzle box suddenly started falling into place.
“Piss!”
“Really child, there's no call for that sort of language!” Light told him off automatically.
In that moment, in those few words, she instantly confirmed one thing to Chy. She was a teacher just as they'd thought. Because that was exactly what a teacher would say to a child spouting muck. And others had thought the same thing too – because who would be better at teaching people magic than a teacher?
“Sorry,” he replied automatically, and then finally brought the cup the rest of the way to his mouth and drank. But his mind wasn't on his tea any more than it was on his apology. It was only on the realisation of what had happened to her. What had happened to all the thrones. And by extension to everyone else who had sat on them.
“You are forgiven child,” She smiled. “But don't do it again.”
“I'll do my best.” But he probably wouldn't. He swore a lot and he hardly ever thought about it. His mother had told him off for years about it, and he'd never listened to her. In any case it was nothing compared to what he'd just realised. And what he was going to have to tell the thrones.
“Light, can you gather the others and bring them down to the main room when Elodie comes back. I have something to tell you all and she needs to be here for it.” And she did have to be there he knew, because she was their guardian. But he doubted any of them had actually realised that. Or at least not put it into words.
At least it wouldn't be long before she returned, he thought as he finished his breakfast. Because what he now knew was something he didn't want to have to keep to himself. They had to know. Everyone had to know.
Twenty minutes later he got his chance as all of them were in the main room, sitting in the somewhat worn easy chairs, Elodie with them.
“Alright,” he began when he saw all of their eyes were on him, “I'm going to have to tell you something. And it's not an easy something to hear. But you need to know it. Because it's about what happened to you. Who you were. Are. And why it was agony to sit on a throne – on one of you. To learn from you.”
“First the good part – you're all teachers of magic. Good teachers I imagine. Dedicated to your students. Wanting with all your being for your students to do well. And very capable. That's why you were chosen to become what you were.”
“The other thing about you all is that you were loyal to your ancient empire. To the Emperor. That's why you volunteered. And you did volunteer. Fylarne's translations of the stories of your being placed into the thrones all agree on that one thing. You went willingly.”
“But that's where the story slips into darkness. Because you were lied to. Deceived. Tricked. You had no true idea of what was to happen to you.” And how could they have known? Because the truth was too horrible for anyone to agree to. And even now it was the very thing that was preventing them from remembering their past. The pain prevented them. If they remembered their past they would also remember what had happened to them.
“So what we know from the translations is that you were all brought into the chamber where the ritual was to be held. Where I imagine you had been told your knowledge would be engraved upon the statues. You were fed the potions, enchanted with various spells and branded with markings you bear on your shoulders.”
“That much you had expected. But what you didn't know was that they were going to sacrifice you. Rip your souls free from your physical beings and place them into the statues. Leaving behind only a living corpse which was also placed within the statue.”
“And that hurt. It must have been pure agony. And of course it was made worse by the betrayal involved. So you suffered there, in those prisons of stone, both dead and alive at the same time. Not knowing what had happened to you. Not even knowing the passage of time. But knowing two things eternally. The pain of what had been done to you. And the shock and hurt of knowing that those you trusted and served, had betrayed you.”
“You have all carried that pain for ten thousand years. Carried it and never understood it.”
He let that sink in for a few moments, looking into their eyes, hunting for some sign that their memories were coming back. And maybe there was a trace of fear in them, that suggested they knew. But they weren't ready to accept it – yet.
“That's why it was agony for anyone to sit on one of you. Your knowledge, your understanding and discipline enable someone with a gift to learn. You literally reshape minds so that those with the gift can start to use it. But at the same time, the pain you suffered, the sense of betrayal, is also passed to those who learn from you. You can't receive one without the other.”
It wasn't their fault. They didn't even know what had been happening. They had been left suspended in stone. Trapped in a timeless state, neither alive nor dead, but always in agony. And those who had sat on them, had linked with them, had joined them in that anguish.
“You would have stayed like that, stuck in the moment of your death, unable to move on, for maybe the rest of time, if it wasn't for one unexpected chance. The sprites.”
“They came, wanting to seize the power of the Temple, to steal its Heartfire and bring it all back to N'Diel to refire their own volcano. And they made a horrible mess of things. Which was when Elodie came up with her desperate plan to spread your teachings beyond the Temple. And somewhere in that something changed within you. A part of you returned to the living world. Your intellects. Your knowledge. Your gifts. But not your memories or your emotions.”
“Still it was enough. Because when that happened, you became able to walk the world again as thrones. But not as the people you were. That part of you was still buried within the stone. Unable for you to access it.”
“Things would have stayed like that too. For a time anyway. But then came a bitter, jealous dwarf. And the last part of the trap was shattered.”
“It didn't occur to me what had happened until half an hour ago. I thought from what I'd been told that you were simply responding to his anger and jealousy. Protecting your guardian. But it wasn't that at all that destroyed your calm and freed you. It was the one thing Yarin Coldstream kept accusing Elodie of over and over again. Betrayal.” And Elodie had told him that herself – several times. She was horrified by the thought.
“You heard that, and you felt it. The part of you that was your soul, trapped somewhere within the stone, heard that. And it echoed with your own pain. O
ver and over again he yelled that, and each time a little more of that part of you that had been ripped out of you and left in darkness, woke up. And it returned to your bodies.”
“In that moment your connection to the stone and the magic failed. Elodie saw your stone forms vanish. And you woke up after ten thousand or more years in the sleep of death. And of course the volcano full of Heartfire, exploded as your pain mingled with it.”
Chy paused again to let them take his words in, and to see what effect they'd had on them. And somewhere in their eyes he saw the pain and sickness of their memories and fear being unleashed. Maybe it wasn't yet all the way out – that might take a long time. But it was there. And when it finally burst free, when they finally dared to face it, he knew it would be bad. But he also knew it had to come. It was the only way these ancients would truly begin to live again.
But there was more – and they should know it before he told everyone else. So when he judged that they'd had enough time to absorb what he'd told them, he carried on.
