The Storm Weaver & the Sand (Books of the Change)

by Sean Williams

  Perhaps, he thought, this was what it was like to swim. Or to drown.

  They came at last to a place where the hum of the Void was loudest. It resonated powerfully through them, making concentration difficult. Skender felt as though he was trying to see and hear through a raging sandstorm, but one that never ebbed. He felt that if they tried to go deeper, he would lose all sense of himself entirely and be sucked away like a leaf in a hurricane.

  This is it, said the one who fought the world-eater. We are here.

  Where, exactly?

  Before the Oldest One.

  Can he hear us?

  If he chooses to.

  What does that mean?

  Skender felt something reach out of the Void and clamp itself about him like an eagle’s talons.

  It means, said a new voice, exactly what it means.

  Hey! Skender squirmed in the powerful grip. That hurts!

  The talons only tightened. He felt as though the bones of his skull were creaking. The fact that he no longer had a skull wasn’t comforting at all.

  I am the Oldest One, said the voice. It might once have been male, but was now as sexless as a wave crashing. You are one of three who were caught in a Way. I heard your story. I can feel your friends. They will last a while longer yet.

  How do you know?

  One of them has a connection with the world. He can lead you back.

  Skender was relieved to hear that. It took some of the annoyance out of being caught in the Oldest One’s vice-like grip.

  How do I wake him? he asked.

  I will tell you in a moment. First, you must hear another story.

  Skender suppressed a groan. All right. If I must.

  A long time ago, two brothers were born into the world, the Oldest One began. Identical twins, they shared a connection that could not be broken. What one was, the other was too. What one felt, the other felt. They were to others like one mind with two bodies. They communicated in ways that ordinary people did not comprehend. They were like two mirrors placed face to face, jealously guarding infinite possibilities between them.

  And you were one of those twins, Skender prompted. You’re telling me your story, right?

  Death came between them, said the Oldest One, ignoring Skender’s question. Death took one from the other. Death split the pair apart as a lightning bolt might tear a tree down the middle. The surviving twin felt as though his mind had been ripped in half. He lived, but part of him had died. He felt that he, too, should be dead. That his heart still beat had to be a mistake, for he could not exist in the world without his brother by his side, without the other half of his mind near at hand. The world could not exist like that.

  And it seemed for a time as though the surviving twin might be right. The longer he lived, the stranger the world became. Things moved through it that he had never seen before. Strange forces came into his life while others more familiar faded away. Elemental creatures stalked the streets. He felt himself protected by unseen intelligences that weren’t quite human. Although he attempted suicide many times, to join his brother, mysterious figures always stepped in to prevent him.

  By the time the dreams started, he was quite certain that he had gone mad.

  The Oldest One shifted his grip on Skender’s mind. Skender quashed the opinion that it sounded like “he” had indeed gone mad.

  There was another explanation, the Oldest One continued. The nightmares, the failure of nature, the new creatures—all this and more arose out of a simple possibility. At first, the surviving twin could not accept it. He thought it nothing more than another delusion. But when this delusion did not fade, and when he began to hear it on the lips of others, as though the delusion had infected them too, he began to accept the truth of it.

  His brother was dead, but that wasn’t the end of his story. Wherever he was, in whatever version of the afterlife the dead twin found himself, he was still connected to the surviving twin. Everything he felt and did was communicated to his brother by the same mysterious mechanism that had existed between them in life. Their mind was not split after all, just stretched across the gulf between the living and the dead.

  That stretching—like an elastic band—was pulling the two together. The distinction between life and afterlife had become less clear. People who should have been dead lived on; things that should never have lived walked freely. Death struck some without warning, or came in ways never seen before. It was the order of things that was disturbed, not the mind of the surviving twin.

  He developed new talents, new senses and new friends that would once have been inconceivable. While he lived, the realms of life and death mingled, and chaos spread through the world. It seemed obvious that he should die in order to restore reality, but he was increasingly uncertain that this was what he wanted to do, and he was as unable to commit suicide as he had been before. The agencies watching over him did not have his wellbeing alone at heart. They killed his brother to create the overlap in the first place, and they desired that life and death should remain intermingled. The creatures that existed in the spaces between life and death had found new homes and new prey.

  They did not want to go back.

  What happened? Skender surprised himself by being interested. Unlike the stories of the other lost minds, this one at least had a plot. What did you do?

  The twins were caught in the middle of the oldest war of all, said the Oldest One, not answering his question directly. Those who did not want to go back were opposed by those attempting to restore the status quo. The battle raged through life and the afterlife—across the Earth and through realms the living can barely comprehend. Always the twins remained at the focus, empowered by their strange new talents. On their fate rested the fate of two worlds. If the surviving twin were to die, the connection between life and afterlife would disappear; were his dead brother to move on, in whatever form was allowed to him, the connection would change, perhaps snap entirely.

  Most tragic of all, the twins knew that they could never be together again in either of their worlds. Too many forces were arrayed against them to allow it. But despite this, and above all, they yearned to be reunited. They missed each other, and hated being apart.

  Given the forces gathering around them, the Oldest One said, it was only a matter of time before something unexpected happened.

  It came in the form of a third agency, one formed solely to resolve the war irrespective of what happened to the twins. Their primary objective was to end the conflict, to bring order—even if it was an entirely new sort of order. The twins were once again the targets. The object wasn’t to kill them, but to remove them, place them out of reach, where no threat of death—or life—could bring a new upheaval to the world.

  The third agency exploited their longing to be together. The twins were told about the Void Beneath—a place that was neither life nor afterlife. It was another place again, predating everywhere else. The twins were convinced that it would be possible to meet there without disturbing the new balance of things.

  They arranged in secret to journey to the Void, one twin from the world of life, the other from the realms of the afterlife. If their plan worked, they would be able to meet in this form as long as they wanted: mind-to-mind, bodiless, and united for the first time since the tragedy that separated them. Since it wasn’t truly them that moved, but the pattern of their minds, echoed in the Void, the connection would remain between their respective worlds. The new balance would remain unchanged. They could come and go as they willed, and no one would ever know.

  The Oldest One paused, and this time Skender did not interrupt. Every word hammered home with dull finality a conclusion that he had already guessed.

  The twins did not reckon on temptation, as the third agency had. Each time they met, it was harder to return to their respective worlds. Each separation was more painful. The longer they spent in the Void
, the more they became accustomed to it, and the more they forgot the worlds and conflicts they had left behind. Togetherness achieved what no agency could: the twins retired forever from the battle between life and afterlife, and a new order was imposed upon the world.

  So it remains today, the Oldest One said, and will remain until the next cataclysm remakes the world. The war continues. Perhaps it will never be won.

  Wait, said Skender. Are you talking about the Cataclysm? The one that created the ghosts in the Haunted City? That gave us the Change?

  I know nothing of your cities or your Change. I simply exist, and will continue to exist for as long as I remember.

  But you’re one of the twins. You made all this happen. None of us would be here now if it wasn’t for you.

  The Oldest One didn’t reply. The grip around Skender’s mind shifted slightly, awkwardly.

  Which one were you? Skender asked. The twin who died or the twin who lived?

  Again, no reply.

  What happens if more twins are born and one of them dies? Do we go through the Cataclysm all over again?

  The Oldest One’s voice was like rock cracking in an avalanche. I do not know.

  You don’t know what? Which twin you were, or whether it’ll happen again?

  I do not know who I am, or how to answer your questions, said the Oldest One. I simply said that I would tell you a story. I do not know if it is mine, or whether it was handed down to me by a previous Oldest One, if such existed before me. It may not even be true.

  Perhaps someone back home will know, Skender said. I’ll ask around when I get back. Maybe they mention you—the twins—in the Book of Towers.

  You will not remember. What happens in the Void remains in the Void.

  I wouldn’t bet on that. I’ve never forgotten anything in my life.

  The vice around his mind suddenly gripped tighter. Is this true?

  Ow—yes, it’s true. Stop doing that! Why are you hurting me?

  I must know that you are telling the truth. And if it is true…The Oldest One eased his grip slightly. You must tell no one, or you will never leave here.

  Why not?

  Think about it. What do the lost minds want?

  To be remembered?

  Exactly: so they can live. You who cannot forget could enable them to live forever. If they learn this, they will never let you go.

  Could they do that?

  They could, by keeping you from the friend who will lead you home and letting him dissolve into the Void.

  But—Skender tried futilely to wriggle out of the Oldest One’s clutches. But what about you? What’s stopping you from doing that too?

  The Oldest One was silent for a long moment. Oblivion doesn’t frighten me.

  Well, it frightens me, Skender said, taking the mental equivalent of a deep breath. Now more than ever he wanted to get home. I heard your story. You have to tell me how to wake Sal. That was the deal.

  The Oldest One didn’t renege. Your friend will wake when you call him by his heart-name.

  That’s all?

  Yes. Do you know his heart-name?

  Skender did, much to his relief. What if I didn’t know it? What would’ve happened then?

  You would have stayed here forever.

  That doesn’t seem terribly fair.

  The Void cares nothing about “fair”. Neither do those who live here. I know you will remember that, but you should understand it, too. Farewell.

  The grip suddenly vanished from around him, and Skender lurched free into the Void.

  What did the Oldest One say? asked the one who fought the world-beast. Did he tell you what you needed to know?

  He—yes, he did.

  You seem upset. Is everything all right?

  Skender recoiled from the lost mind’s curiosity. If she hadn’t overheard his conversation with the Oldest One, then she didn’t know about his ability to remember. But she had read his surface thoughts before, and might do so again.

  The Oldest One told me more than I wanted to know, he said. And enough to convince me that I need to leave straightaway. Will you take me to my friends?

  Of course, she said, beginning the slow climb back to where he had arrived and taking him with her. If she suspected anything, she made no sign.

  Sayed.

  The name sank into the Void like a rock through mist. Sal didn’t respond.

  Skender pressed harder. Sayed? Can you hear me?

  This time there came a faint response. The storm dream ebbed, faded.

  …Dad?

  It’s Galeus, he said, profoundly relieved that Sal had answered. The lost minds were crowding curiously around him. He felt that his secret was burning on his mind like a brand, even though they made no move to stop him.

  Where are we?

  We’re in the Void Beneath. Skender explained as succinctly as he could. There are other people in here, lost people. We’ll become like them if we don’t get out soon.

  How do we do that?

  One of them told me that you have a connection with the world, that you can lead us back. I presume it’s you, anyway, because you have that thing with Shilly. Unless there’s something we don’t know about Kemp…

  Kemp is here, too?

  He was caught with us when the Way collapsed.

  The Way…? Skender felt Sal’s confusion through the Void. I don’t remember. It’s all a blur. What were we doing in a Way?

  Don’t worry about it, said Skender, although he couldn’t quash his own anxiety. The Void was already having an effect on Sal. The fact that he was still remembering clearly confirmed his assumption that he wouldn’t forget anything on returning.

  Can you feel Shilly, Sal? Do you think you can reach her?

  I feel her. Sal’s voice was faint. She’s so far away. She’s looking for us.

  I’ll bet she is. Can you take us to her?

  I’m not sure. The Change…I don’t have it any more. I don’t know how to do it.

  See if you can call her, then. She might be able to reach us.

  Okay, I’ll try.

  Skender felt Sal’s mind reaching out in a way he couldn’t fully comprehend. Although he had earlier imagined the Void to be like a cloud or the ocean, the reality was infinitely more complex. He simply wasn’t equipped to deal with concepts like direction in a place where direction was meaningless. Even a fish would have some concept of another world outside the ocean, beyond the boundary between water and air. Not being able to cross that boundary didn’t mean it wasn’t imaginable: it was simply up. Where up was in the case of the Void, he had no idea, but that was where Sal was reaching. His friend’s mind, still groggy from his awakening in the Void, was completely focused on the task.

  That’s it, Skender said. You can do it.

  What is he doing? asked the one who fought the world-beast. What strangeness is this?

  Beats me, Skender replied. But maybe it’s not so strange. Maybe it happens every week and you just forget.

  This is possible, admitted the lost mind. We will forget you, too, in time.

  If we make it back.

  Yes. We would rename you “the ones who went home”. Your return would give us hope that we might do so.

  Maybe you will, one day.

  No. There is no hope for us. We are lost, forgotten. We—There was a slight pause, then the one who fought the world-eater said, What do you mean when you think that you will remember us?

  Skender clamped down on the treacherous thought. Nothing. I didn’t think that.

  It felt as though you did. The lost one retreated slightly, nursing something that felt very much like resentment. No one remembers. We are nothing but ripples in a pond, doomed to flatten and fade. You are a pebble dropped among us: an exciting but brief disturbance. Things will return to t
he way they always are, as they always do. That we know, even if we don’t remember it. What happens here makes no difference in the larger scheme of things.

  Skender felt the keen desperation in the remains of the woman’s mind as powerfully as though the feeling was his own. He wished there was something he could do to help her—to help all of them—but the only option he could think of was completely unacceptable. He wasn’t going to stay in the Void any longer than he had to. He had places to go and things to see on the outside.

  Places like home. The thought struck him hard on the heels of the lost one’s despair. With the possibility of never leaving the Void hanging over him, his memories of the Keep had never seemed sweeter. Its crumbling facades; the endless singing of the wind chimes in the thin air, as familiar to him as his name on his father’s lips; the view from the upper balconies, of bare mountains reaching for the sky. There were no golems there, no Golden Towers, and no risk of accidentally vanishing forever in the Void. Not unless one of Raf’s experiments went astray, anyway, or his dad finally came good on one of his threats.

  Always in a hurry to get somewhere, Atilde had said about his father, never happy where he was. Skender thought of the boy his father had once been, and wondered what had happened to him to make him change his mind. Perhaps he had known better than his son what Skender was getting himself into by stowing away on Belilanca Brokate’s caravan…

  Got her! Sal’s cry shook him out of his thoughts. She’s going to try to pull us back.

  How?

  I don’t know. Someone’s helping her, I think. Sal’s mind lurched in the Void as though something had grabbed it. That’s her! I’ve got Kemp. You grab onto him, and let’s get out of here!

  Skender clutched desperately at the mind of their unconscious companion. Another lurch pulled Sal, then Kemp and Skender, in a completely impossible direction. For a moment, he panicked, fearing that he was actually going deeper and would be lost forever. But then the Void seemed to fade around him. The endless hum lessened. He could feel himself being tugged away from the lost ones as though he was a desert mouse hanging onto the tail of a snake that was in turn biting the leg of a rabbit—and somewhere far above was an eagle struggling to lift all three of them into the sky.