Fate: No Strings Attached

by Erik Schubach

  I looked into the little mirror above the sink in the tiny cubical that was the bathroom behind a little accordion door in the cabin, wondering what I'd look like with a pixie cut.

  I froze, realizing I couldn't remember what I looked like when I wasn't in a mortal form on Earth. Why couldn't I remember what I, Clotho, looked like? I remembered everything else but without knowing my own face, did I have a sense of self?

  But then I hesitated when I remembered all my interactions with Mother and Atta. How they looked alike, just like the same person, just aged differently. And I remember when I was in the role of Mother or Crone, and they were the Maiden in our never-ending cycle of renewal. And I realized that I did know what I looked like, we didn't have mirrors where we tended the loom, all we needed to do was to look at one another to see a reflection of ourselves.

  My rising panic ebbed, and I wondered absently yet again if the three of us weren't really just different aspects of the same person. Were the Fates simply just Fate? Then I sighed, realizing that I must have had that same thought many times during my existence, it just felt like new thought since I couldn't remember.

  I chuckled knowing that no matter who I was over the years, I really wasn't into the spirituality and existentialism questions like that brought to the surface. The irony of it wasn't lost on me, as I was a Fate, and that was what we were all about, right?

  I sat on the boxy toilet which was only a foot back from the sink, with just barely enough room to stand between them. I glanced one last time in the mirror, I looked nothing like the Maiden, and I felt that Sloan's was my real face now, since that is all I had even known before my memories started coming back to me.

  Then I bit the tip of my tongue and stifled a chuckle as I thought about the fact that if I didn't look like the Maiden right now, Lachesis definitely didn't look like the Mother at this time.

  I found a stack of towels and washcloths, wet a washcloth, and went about giving myself a sponge bath the best I could in the cramped space.

  By the time I wasn't too ripe, and I had combed my hair back and tied it into a ponytail, I started to head up the ladder-ish stairs. I hurried when I heard raised voices. I pushed through the hatch like door and up into chaos.

  Knotted threads!

  Enid was yelling at the reaver, pointing that ridiculously oversized cast iron frying pan at the smug looking woman on the floor. Drey was trying to pry the pan from Enid's white knuckled grip. Lach was just tipping her head back and laughing a deep masculine laugh while Atta was talking over everyone, “Now settle down everyone. Enid, give Detective Lisbon the pan, it can't hurt her anymore, we stripped the shadow from her life thread.”

  Enid's voice went so very high it cracked as she pointed it out, “Oh, I can still hurt her with a twenty-pound hunk of metal.”

  Lach fell off the bench she was on, her laughing had her doubled over now, tears streaming down her face. Andreya almost lifted Eeen off the ground as she pulled the frying pan from her, my angry roomie not wanting to let go. Drey was orders of magnitude stronger and patiently held the pan until Eeen's grip failed as she dropped from her tiptoes.

  Then she crossed her arms over her chest and harrumphed as she spat out to the reaver, “I am not a worthless waste of air.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at that, my ire rising as I reminded myself that that's what those touched by the Adumbrates shadows did, they manipulated people, and they hunted when they were allowed to. I'd hate to know what kind of manipulative bitch this woman was with those around her in her human life.

  Mother had finally gotten herself under control, and she stood back up, wiping happy tears from her face as she told the reaver, “She did beat you senseless, and your shadow was helpless against her. Doesn't that make you the worthless one?”

  Then she cocked an eyebrow and made a beckoning motion toward me, and a dingy silver thread extended from the back of my hand and slithered through the air to drape into her hands. It was an old frayed thread with a single gossamer filament that shone brightly keeping it from snapping.

  She looked at the reaver who was about to make some sort of crude retort, but the intensity of Lach's glare, combined with her imposing size made the woman think twice. Mother looked at the thread while measuring it instinctively as only Lachesis of the Fates could. She said with a sigh, “You are already dead. Your life ended over a hundred years back. It is only our dear Clotho's ability to spin new life from the ether that is keeping you with us now that the shadows have been stripped away.”

  She ran a finger along the tiny filament that looked more fragile than a human hair. It seemed attached to the reavers life thread unnaturally. I was doing that? Part of me squirmed, it was an abomination, no different than what the Adumbrates did with life shadow.

  Lach continued, rubbing the stubble on her chin. “She must need something from you before you join your companions, crumbling to dust.”

  That's right! I said, “We need answers.”

  That's when everyone turned to me, noticing for the first time that I had joined the party. Enid stepped beside me, still with her arms crossed defensively across her chest, and I smiled and pulled her into a little side hug. On the outside, she was a little platypus, but on the inside, she was a defiant grizzly.

  Atta shook her head sadly at the reaver, pondering. “What could they have offered you for you to, how do they say it today? Sell your soul to the devil?”

  The woman looked nervous but answered in defiance, “I was dying of yellow fever. They said they would save me if only I would do them a favor from time to time. I'm a hunter, one of their elite.”

  I almost snorted, seeing Lach trying not to laugh again.

  It was pretty funny. Reavers were to be feared as they did the bidding of their masters. Puppets on a string. But even the newest of reavers, with barely any shadow, was a match for even the bravest human. Yet our little Enid had handily dispatched one who had over a hundred years of shadow bound to her through the years.

  It reminded me of something a philosopher I once dated in ancient Greece, Socrates, had said, that might is an illusion that crumbles when in the shadow of heart. Heart was where true strength lies. Enid had heart in spades.

  I knew we had more pertinent questions about our situation, but my morbid curiosity got the better of me, and I asked, “Was the price of your free will worth accepting their offer? Living like a parasite off the life shadow of innocent people?”

  She smiled almost cruelly, and the effect was only compounded by the blistering burns on her face. She said almost like she savored each word, “Oh the things I've done and the chaos I've sown with the years my masters gifted me. I didn't start to live until they took me under their wing.”

  I didn't want to, but I reached out and placed a hand on the thread Lach was still holding. Then I sighed. The woman truly had a dark soul, even before the shadows took her. I pondered that for a moment. Was that how the Adumbrates chose their catspaws? Could their shadow weavings only stick to where there was already darkness?

  Then Drey took control of the situation and crouched in front of the woman, offering a bottle of water that the woman slapped away with the minimal motion she could get from the cuffs that were looped around the rail.

  Andreya shrugged and reached over to pick up the water bottle. The woman slashed her hand at Drey's throat as she leaned past the woman. I almost blurted out a warning, my heart pounding, but almost faster than I could follow, Drey caught the slashing hand without looking, and bent it back at the wrist. The woman hissed out in pain.

  Drey retrieved the water and then moved back before releasing her hand. She had been anticipating that! She leaned casually against the wall and asked, “How many of you are out there? Where are these... Adumbrates that sent you?”

  The woman slumped against the wall and smiled. “Torture me all you like. I'll not betray my masters.”

  Drey shrugged. “Nobody is going to torture you. From what I've gathered, you’re already dead
. A shadow...” She trailed off and then glanced at me with the look of someone comprehending something that was just beyond their grasp before. “A shadow, Adumbrates...” She did understand now.

  The concept of adumbrate originated in Greece. It was by definition something not of substance, a faint outline, the vague resemblance of something obfuscated by shadow. That is where the Adumbrates lived, in that shadow.

  Then she asked me, “Is that the strain I've seen on your face since the scuffle on the dock? You're keeping this one alive? I just thought it was the stress of the situation.”

  I blinked at that. Strain? I followed the thread and was surprised to realize that I was, I was spinning life from the ether to keep the reaver alive. It was unnatural, and every bone in my body vibrated with the knowledge that it went against the natural order of things.

  I told myself that we needed information as an excuse. She was our only source, so I was feeding her frayed thread just the barest trickle of life to keep her tethered to the mortal realm. Now that I was aware that I was doing it, I could feel the strain of feeding energy without completing the task. I didn't know I could do that, even when I slept.

  I was pulled out of my thoughts as the reaver sat back and smiled, taunting, “You have no idea what is coming. My masters said they have destroyed the loom, and now they are coming for you, you zounderkites. The Maiden has something they need.”

  Atta shook her head and said, “We've faced an Adumbrate before, they believe they are above the laws that govern all life. Their time is almost at an end.” She smirked and added, “And you show your age with the insult. Nobody has used that in over a century.”

  As they spoke, the memory of the battle for the loom of life crystallized. It was the Adumbrates, all four of them. There were only four left when they used to number in the dozens, like the gods of old before they passed into legend.

  We had battled for days, untangling the shadows they cast on the threads that encased their own. The life forces they leeched from in their attempts to be eternal. I could even remember a time when they were not the corrupt beings they have made of themselves.

  We had purified and cut the threads of two of them, but it was too late. They had reached the loom. That's when we used me as the vessel for the canvas of life. Have the shadows finally got what they wanted? Have they won?

  No... no, I am the loom now until we can create another. As long as I draw breath, then life will not descend into chaos.

  The reaver woman kept smiling. “You may have faced one, but what of two?” Then she snapped her mouth shut, realizing how much she was telling us in her taunts.

  Drey was smirking. “Thank you for the info.” Then she turned to us. “So there are two of these Adumbrates here. Can you take them?”

  Lach shook her head as she said in a thoughtful tone, “There are but two left, their time is coming to an end. That's what this is all about. The four remaining were more than we could stop, they destroyed our life's work. It was all we could do to escape before we met the same fate as our loom. We fought a losing battle from the beginning, but their fanatical fervor cost them dearly. We returned two of them to the wheel of time as but a memory.”

  Atta picked up the thread and said, “Two Adumbrates in the mortal realm will be more of a threat, as they have more power here, where they can stand in the shadow of the living rather than standing apart in our realm, living off their life force like parasites from a distance. If it comes down to a confrontation, we'd have our hands full defending against one, let alone two. Maybe the time of the Fates has come to pass as well.”

  The reaver tilted her head back and laughed then looked over at us, eyes manic as she accused, “You shouldn't lord over all life like gods, deciding who lives or dies. I'm just happy to know that I will live to see you die.”

  Oh, stitch and nap! Mrs. Ramos' face darkened, and her eyes looked to reflect the cold weight of eternity, it was the face of Atropos as she drew the scissors from her pocket. This was the Fate that most men refused to voice, even in whispers, the Crone. The bringer of death.

  The smile on Atta's face was chilling as she gently stroked the thread that hung in the air between her and me, as Lachesis held it taut where that whisper of a filament of silver life touched its frayed end. The Crone whispered in a voice that could have frozen the seas, a voice I have used on our many cycles through our lives, “No child, you won't...”

  There was the sound of the scissors snipping, and the reaver went slack as if she were a puppet whose strings had been cut. Then she said in a whisper with a touch of disdain and self-recrimination, “We 'are' Gods, for better or worse. Perhaps our time has come, and we can finally rest.”

  Lach didn't meet my eyes as she folded and held the cut thread back to me. I exhaled loudly and took it in my hand, and it flared briefly and hung in the air like smoke for a heartbeat before drifting away like dust in a wind that wasn't there.

  One moment the reaver's body was there, cuffed to the rail, the next it drifted away as that same dust in the ether, leaving the handcuffs swaying on the rail. Nobody spoke for a long moment. The silence was deafening. It seemed that even the sound of the waves gently lapping at the side of the boat had subsided.

  Then Atta said to Drey and a very wide-eyed Enid, “She was already dead. What was left was a creature who lived off the lives of others, siphoning days or years from the lives of their victims. She wouldn't have given us any more.”

  Andreya nodded absently, staring at the space where the lesser hunter had been. I could see her trying to reconcile her life as a detective with the revelation that there were things beyond her reality, and now those worlds were colliding. Us immortals haven't revealed ourselves to mankind since ancient times.

  So much has changed, and man has proven to have come so far. They may one day eclipse the accomplishments of the gods one day. I believe that day is coming sooner than we could imagine.

  Eeen muttered, “Good riddance.”

  And I had to smile at her. She was taking all these supernatural revelations in stride.

  I winged a thumb toward her and announced with a manic grin, “My roomie.”

  Everyone smiled at the now blushing girl. I felt better without the strain of artificially maintaining a life, like some preternatural life support system. But then a new weight settled around me.

  I looked around, and Lach voiced what I was thinking, “Two Adumbrates. Here. This could be worse than the last time Aries got his panties in a twist and influenced the Roman defeat in the Battle of Cannae. Immortals shouldn't walk the world of man.”

  I glanced around then said, “Andreya, Enid, you need to get as far away from the west coast as possible. We can't hope to defeat the shadows, they are too powerful here. If we lose, the world is going to descend into chaos.”

  Drey rolled her eyes. “I'm not going anywhere.”

  Enid moved over and grabbed her frying pan, holding it tight to her chest, her voice wavering as she squeaked out, “Me either. You said cast iron hurts them.”

  I nodded. We still don't understand why cold steel affected fallen immortals, nor why it didn't affect those who stayed true to their nature. It could possibly be the rumor that when the gods placed man on Earth, that they gave them a way to defend themselves from the immortals. Otherwise, mankind would have fallen to rouge elements eons ago.

  Or it could come down to intent and belief, as that is what gives most immortals their power. Man believes that iron can defend against evil, so the strength of that belief makes it true.

  Andreya was in Detective Lisbon mode as she exhaled and asked with authority as she retrieved her handcuffs, “Right then, how do we fight these things?”

  Chapter 11 – Nature of the Beast

  It was a long two days, sailing around the Olympic Peninsula, and the Pacific was not always so kind, and I felt a little ill during a couple hours of choppy seas on the first day. But we were making decent time for the type of boat the Water Pixie was. We ave
raged eighteen knots.

  We stopped for the night to refuel and get food supplies at the tiny resort town of La Push at the Quillayute River Delta the next night. Lach and Enid were the ones to disembark to get everything, as Andreya was sure that there had to be a BOLO and APB out for her, Atta, and me.

  When the two returned, they looked a sight. Eeen was nothing but grins and blushes on Mother's arm. A tall, masculine man escorting a small and bashful woman on one arm, and holding at least six grocery bags by the handles in the other hand.

  While I helped stock the tiny kitchenette in the upper cabin, Drey went below to call her Captain on one of the two prepaid burner cells the ladies bought. As we were finishing up, I stopped and sniffed. Then I cocked an eyebrow at my roomie and said incredulously as I pointed an accusing finger, “You showered!”

  We had already been getting quite ripe along the way, even with sponge baths. But four people in a cramped space. I would have given my bike... Hannah's bike for a hot shower, or better yet, a long soak in a tub. And here was my roommate smelling fresh and looking shiny. I glanced over at mother. Wait a minute, her manly chiseled jaw was cleanly shaven.

  I swung my pointing finger between the two accusingly.

  Eeen sighed and slumped bonelessly against the wall with a teasing grin, “Oh, it was wonderful. The resort store had showers in the restrooms, I didn't want to leave.”

  Mother refused to look at me as she sat back on one of the bench seats with her arms crossed behind her head, a grin on her face.

  They were evil! Clean and evil!

  I muttered, “I hate you both.”

  Enid got a mischievous look on her face and pulled something from her jacket pocket and held it in front of her face and rocked it side to side like you would when bribing a small child to behave. “But I come bearing golden sponge cake goodness, stinky.”

  Uoooaaaahhhh... Twinkies... She knew my Kryptonite well. I whispered as I snatched the bribe greedily from her hand, “I want to have your babies, Eeen.”