by Obert Skye
While pain usually bites and fades, hurt can hang around forever. Like the hurt you feel when someone points out to everyone else how poorly you do something. Or the hurt you feel when your first crush crushes you and decides to hold hands and make eyes at someone else in public. Or the hurt you feel when you find a note in your lunch box that says, “The entire population has voted, and you are definitely not it.”
Janet knew hurt.
Her childhood had taught her to be selfish and unkind. Her parents had ignored her, compensating for their lack of interest by giving her things. Sadly, Janet had never learned to use what she had been given for good. Instead, she used possessions to pad her life and make herself as comfortable and untouchable as possible. She had lost every friend who had ever come near just by being rotten, self-absorbed, and isolated. She refused to let people into her life unless it was clear they would never cause her pain. And of course, as everyone knows, there is no relationship in life that comes with the promise of zero pain.
When her parents passed away, Janet lost everyone in the world who remotely cared for her. Then she met Wally. Wally was tall, dark, and miserable. He complained about everything, and Janet sort of liked that. But soon after they married, Wally discovered that Janet was far more sour than she had initially let on. Wally left her shortly before their first child was born.
Janet knew hurt.
She buried her feelings and became more miserable, distrusting, and awful than she had ever been before. She cursed her parents. She cursed Wally. And she cursed the child who had come into her life at such an awful moment.
Winter.
Now, however, Janet’s whispy heart hurt for all new, less selfish reasons. Each step she took, she could do little but think of how she had blown her shot at Reality. She cried over the things she had done to Winter. She had been given a body with a beating heart, and she had stifled every chance for her life to be positively textured and rewarding. She kept thinking about the boulder she had talked to and wondering why she had never reached for anything better.
“What have I done?” Janet whispered to herself as she walked.
“Excuse me?” Osck said, stepping up beside her.
Osck’s arms and torso were on fire at the moment, but his legs were the reflection of trees and Janet. As he spoke, Janet could see his hornlike ears turn bright orange. At first, as the leader of the group of echoes Janet had ended up with, he had hardly acknowledged her. But as they had traveled, Osck had begun to enjoy her strange, fat form as a reflection on him.
“It’s nothing,” Janet said hopelessly.
“What have you done?” Osck asked sincerely, his voice the sound of new flame. “Your voice reverberates sadly.”
Despite the fact that half of him was on fire, Janet wanted to reach out and touch Osck. She desperately needed to feel that there was something solid and real in her life. She couldn’t even feel her own face or lie down and touch the soil beneath her.
“I have to say,” Osck spoke. “You interest me.”
“Shut up,” Janet said instinctually.
Osck’s eyes burned with curiosity. “I like the way you look,” he crackled.
“Excuse me?” Janet said sarcastically.
“Your reflection,” Osck said. “It’s long both ways. Like the biggest sun when it’s hanging in the middle air.”
Janet stared at Osck. She wanted to feel insulted, but that impulse was fleeting. Instead, something inside of her wiggled like a worm fighting to free itself from a rusty hook. She felt her stomach, but her hands went right through her. The wriggling in her stomach dropped to her toes and bounced back up into her chest.
The sensation was baffling to her.
It was even more confusing when she witnessed the result of it reflecting in Osck’s face.
Janet was smiling.
“Are you okay?” Osck asked, staring at her face as if she were a leper with a bad cold.
“I’m not sure,” Janet answered honestly, the smile fading like wet paper.
“Reality will make you whole,” Osck said with confidence. “We’ll win the war and bridge the madness.”
“Madness?”
“Foo,” Osck said. “This world’s not complete. Look how it holds us in.”
Osck motioned to the Hard Border that had towered over them the entire trek, blocking any sun and elements from that direction.
“Reality has borders too,” Janet said.
“Not true,” Osck insisted. “It’s endless, like the suns.”
“You wouldn’t exist in Reality,” Janet pointed out. “You’d be nothing but a passing reflection.”
“Perhaps,” Osck said. “But our birth here assures our existence there.”
“Who says?” Janet argued.
“Those who read the Lore Coils,” Osck answered. “The rants will bridge the madness and make the impossible a reality.”
“Knowing Reality, it seems more likely that people will douse you with water and send you back to the dreamers who dreamed you up.”
Osck stared at Janet. His torso cooled while his heart burned bright. “I like the way you look.”
Janet smiled a second time.
“Your face changes when you do that,” Osck said.
“Sorry.”
“It’s not awful,” Osck assured her. “Only odd.”
Janet was quiet as they moved between trees on the edge of the Swollen Forest. Tea birds dipped in and out of the upper branches of fantrum trees, singing to each other. A couple of mischievous, three-armed tharms swung from high branches chasing one another.
“How will you win the war?” Janet asked, sounding as if she actually understood what she was asking.
Osck looked around nervously. “The rants have metal.”
“And?”
“Those who oppose us have none,” Osck said. “As they adhere to their outdated laws, we will put an end to their bondage of living within these borders and bridge Reality.”
“How?”
“You speak plainly,” Osck observed.
“That doesn’t change my question,” Janet insisted. “How?”
“There is a gateway.”
“Where?”
“The information is being purchased.”
“And you and your group are going to beat people up with metal and then go through a gateway?”
“Yes,” Osck answered reverently.
“I think you’re overestimating your strength,” Janet said critically.
The trees thinned just a bit, opening into a wide field where perfectly round stones littered the landscape.
“We’re almost there,” Osck said cautiously.
“Almost where?” Janet asked. “And what’s that sound?”
Osck was quiet, marching ahead of Janet and signaling the other echoes to follow. They wove through the round stones to a spot where the stones rose to make a wall. Janet could still hear what sounded like the rushing of water.
The echoes pushed through a tight opening in the wall and moved onto a wide ledge that looked over the lush green Rove Valley.
Janet was amazed.
Hundreds of thousands of beings covered the entire landscape. As far as she could see, the valley was filled with creatures of all varieties. There were large groups of echoes and various animals, but the overwhelming majority were groups of dark-robed rants. Every couple of hundred feet, large orange flags with dark, moving symbols had been placed. Beneath each flag was a long, black tent with creatures pouring in and out of it. Thin, ratty braids of smoke rose to the sky from a hundred different fires.
Osck moved back so as to better wear Janet’s reflection.
“There’re so many,” Janet said.
“And we are still gathering.”
“I don’t think Reality is going to let you just walk in.”
“They won’t have a choice,” Osck said solemnly. “How do you stop the flood?”
“This is impossible.”
Osck stared a
t Janet intently.
“You’re interesting,” he finally said, his heart burning brighter.
“I mean it,” Janet insisted.
“So do I,” Osck said.
Janet followed Osck down a slight hill and into a long set of switchbacks. They walked fast, and in less than an hour they had reached the valley floor and were numbered among the gathered throng. The sound of laughter and bragging could be heard from every corner. Some were arguing over where they were camped or how much food they had. Others were complaining about the wait.
“We should attack now.”
“How much longer can we sit?”
Janet stayed silent. Her heart was filled with fear. She had to keep reminding herself that nobody could harm her. She was nothing, and because of that she was safe. It was what she had always wanted, but now that she had it she was very much aware of how unfulfilling it was.
“Come,” Osck commanded his group. “There are other echoes at the far end and over.”
Janet followed. “Who’s in charge of this crowd?” she asked.
Osck stopped walking to stare at her again. His ears and fingers burned while his long hair snapped and sparked in the light wind. “We are led by those who once trusted fate,” he said.
“Like a general?” Janet asked. “Or a commander?”
“Don’t worry,” was all Osck said. “Soon you will be real.”
“I was already real once,” Janet said sadly. “I don’t know that I can face myself again.”
“You must have family,” Osck said innocently.
“A daughter,” Janet cried, a wave of intense hurt rushing over her as she said it. “I don’t know that I can ever face her either.”
“You speak plainly,” Osck replied.
“That doesn’t change my situation,” Janet said.
“Then perhaps you should stop and listen,” Osck instructed her. “There’s nothing more powerful than a well-placed word. I’ll try to speak a few before the day is out, if it will help you.”
Janet opened her mouth to say something, but she could see her reflection in the forehead of Osck. Her mouth was wide, as if she were going to throw out more words that ultimately meant nothing. Her eyes looked sad, and her face was far bigger than she remembered the mirrors of her home ever admitting.
A group of palehi ran in front of Janet and the echoes. They were running with purpose and direction, their pale faces a stark contrast to the black robes of all the rants. Osck looked at them with respect. A massive troop of black skeletons from the Cinder Depression rode behind them on huge dirt avalands.
“This war is bringing out the conviction of all beings,” he said.
Janet felt hopeless, hurt, and buried in her lack of convictions and her insurmountable ability to do nothing.
Chapter Eighteen
Nothing Left, Nothing Right
Azure paced around the room like a caged traitor, his hands knotted behind his back and his head forward as if pushing against the wind. Every couple of seconds he would look anxiously toward the door. Azure scratched at his bleeding, infected ear and wiped the thick blue blood on his robe. There was dried blood caked in his beard. He looked at Winter and Geth, who were fastened to the wall with wide roven talons stapling their wrists and ankles. Azure sneered, sniffing in, his eyes looking like those of a horse who had just smelled smoke.
Winter sneered back.
“Did Reality teach you that?” he snipped. “You mutt.”
“Who are you to give lessons on etiquette?” Winter retorted. “I see nothing but sickness in you.”
“Watch yourself, child,” Azure warned.
“I’m not a child, and you know that,” Winter insisted, her chin sticking out.
“You are what we deem you to be.”
“Your word has no power,” Geth spoke up. “Reality has made Winter wise.”
Azure spun, took two steps across the room, raised his kilve, and hit Geth on the side of his head. Geth worked his jaw and blew back his hair from his eyes.
“I wonder if your actions would be so bold if my hands were free,” Geth said.
“Wonder all you want,” Azure said. “You will discover shortly that my word has the power to save or end your life.”
“If that’s so, you’ll simply be assisting fate,” Geth said strongly.
Azure’s blue eyes burned. He spat on the floor, cursing fate.
“The balance of power has shifted,” Azure said. “Fate’s dancing on the end of strings these days.”
“What are we here for, anyway?” Winter asked, trying to take the attention away from Geth. “What are we waiting for?”
Azure looked around and grabbed at his ear again. The room was large, with slick, green, stone walls and one massive wooden door on the up side. At the over end of the room there was a huge fireplace with no fire burning in it; soot rats were playing in the cold ashes.
In the center of the room sat a large square table with three chairs on each side of it. The chairs were covered in black roven pelts, and the room was lit with torches that were pinched against the stone walls with roven talons similar to the ones binding Geth and Winter.
A few of the empty chairs in the room were growing impatient. They had gotten into formation, yet still nobody was sitting in them. They anxiously tittered and chirped against the wood floor.
“Well?” Winter demanded. “What are we here for?”
Azure didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to the door and it opened wide. He stepped out and the door shut behind him.
“Where are we?” Winter asked Geth, trying to work her wrists out of the talons that held her still.
“We are in the council room on the eleventh stone,” Geth said, working his wrists as well.
“The council room?”
“For the Council of Wonder,” Geth explained. “The first chair over there belongs to me. Of course, I haven’t sat in it for years.”
Geth’s chair rocked back and forth, mad that it was still empty.
“Do you think the Want will be here?” Winter asked.
“I hope so,” Geth said. “He doesn’t sit on the council, but we continually report to him.”
“And he’s on our side?” Winter asked skeptically.
“Azure’s turn to selfishness concerns me,” Geth whispered. “I hope the Want still follows fate.”
Winter pulled at the talons and looked toward the door. “I keep thinking that any moment Leven will walk in,” she said wishfully, “with Clover on his shoulder and the Want beside him, telling us that this is all a mistake.”
“I feel the same way,” Geth admitted.
The door did open, but it wasn’t Leven who stepped in.
It was Azure, accompanied by a short man wearing a red sash over his right shoulder. The man carried a brown kilve and had two long, black braids that reached almost to his waist. His face was pale with a dark mustache, the ends of which were woven into the braids. He wore felt trousers and pointed shoes that closed with large wooden buckles.
“Knoll?” Geth said happily.
Knoll refused to look at Geth. He moved to his chair and took a seat.
“Knoll,” Geth tried. “It’s me, Geth.”
Knoll sniffed and pulled out a small round stone from his sash. He rubbed the top of the stone with his thumb. The stone displayed a series of numbers and then went blank. Knoll casually tugged on his braids and dusted off his sleeves as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
He looked at Azure.
“Will there be others coming?” Azure asked.
Knoll smiled. “No.”
“Excellent,” Azure breathed out.
Azure took a seat in his chair. The rest of the seats showed their discontent by scooting themselves all the way in to the table.
“Can we do this quickly?” Knoll said. “Things are changing rapidly.”
“Of course,” Azure said. “We are here to cleanse a matter that has been left to rot far too long. Before we go on, how
ever, it should be noted who still sits around the table. It seems that there are quite a few council members missing.”
Azure looked down at a thin piece of parchment paper. “Zale?” he called out. Azure looked around at the empty chairs, his gaze coming to rest on Knoll.
“He’s dead,” Knoll reported, turning his gaze to Geth.
Geth’s shoulders became taut.
“Tith?” Azure called.
“Buried and believed dead,” Knoll said.
Azure continued to read names, and after each name, Knoll would say with calculated composure, “Buried and believed dead.”
Each time Knoll spoke, Geth’s soul burned. These were the names of his family and of fellow lithens. These were the names of those who had stood true and now had paid a price for it. Geth fought the feelings inside himself, knowing that he could not begin to doubt fate now.
“How can this be?” Geth spoke up. “How could so many of the council be fooled?”
“Quiet,” Azure seethed. “Knoll?”
“I’m seated and steady,” Knoll reported.
“Well,” Azure said to Knoll, “it looks as if it is only you and I. The Council of Wonder is at its end.”
“I’m here,” Geth spoke up. “And surely time has not let you forget that I lead this council.”
“I think you are confused,” Azure said. “You gave up your spot years ago.”
“I gave up nothing.”
“Oh, I think you’re wrong,” Knoll growled. “You left us, and now our only future depends on securing a place for all of us in Reality.”
“What has happened?” Geth asked sincerely. “These thoughts are poison. How could you have let this occur? You’re a lithen—sworn to fight for the true Foo.”
“True Foo,” Knoll scoffed. “You and Antsel disappeared, and the real power of Foo shifted from these thirteen dead stones to Morfit.”
“Morfit?” Geth argued. “It is nothing but a monument to misdeed and corruption.”
“Had you been here, you would understand,” Azure waved, as if Geth’s concerns were childish. “We were wrong, Geth. We were selfish and misguided trying to keep Foo from Reality.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Geth said sadly. “What of the plan?”
