"I am not frightened of you, it startled me to hear you speak."
"Ah, you thought me a dumb animal? But Ethon was born before man. With the birth of the sun I came to this world. I have known all of the languages of man and beast in their time. And now, after millenia of war and wolf, plague and hunger, now I lie at the mercy of a child." Ethon heaved a great sigh and laid her head on the cool green grass.
"I am not your enemy, Ethon. I never sought to harm you, but it was I that fled from you. How many miles have you pursued me? And to what end? What is it that I have done to you or yours?"
"Do not pretend. I know the Messenger bade you to stop the purging of this world. It set you against my fine sons, to end their work and let this world continue. I know how you humans cling to this world. Six times we have tried to cleanse this dying world, six times over centuries of man. This time we will not fail. I will kill you first." Ethon snapped her massive teeth, trying to reach Brone's leg, but her wounds were too great and she sank back on the grass exhausted.
"We should not be enemies Ethon. I cannot stop your sons. That is not my task. Let me help you and show I mean you no ill."
But Ethon did not hear Brone, she already slept in the cool grass. Brone thought of her own child resting deep in her belly and wondered if she too, would suffer alone with no one to comfort her. So Brone made good grain and pasture to grow around the sleeping mare. She poured the last of her water onto Ethon's great tongue and softly walked on, not knowing what more could be done. Brone reached the lake many hours later to find Lianzi awaiting her arrival but Ganit came not to the water that night. And Ethon slept on for two more days, her long work done, her vengeance yet to begin.
"What have you found in the dark?" she asked Lianzi, "What beast came upon you in the cloud?"
Lianzi smiled warm and gentle, "Only the beasts from our dreams, illusion only, with teeth of smoke and claws of shadow. And you? What have you met with while we were parted?"
"Birth and Death in one."
"That is not special to this land," said Lianzi, "They are everywhere bound together."
"I fear we have lost Ganit," said Brone, her voice catching.
"Let us wait one day, Brone, and see what we shall find. Morning changes many things." So they rested one night more in the cold, gray mist.
Ganit glowed, a silver sun, a burning bush in the desert, yet his flesh was cool and the flames danced without wind or movement. This time, though, Ganit fought not, but waited for the crushing bite of wolves and bears, rats and boars. Great was the fury of the beasts that fell upon him trying to rend his breath from his lungs. Thousands were the beasts that clawed at him. They ached to devour him, to crunch the marrow of his bones. But a great wave of warmth, an explosion as if a star fell into the earth came from Ganit. The beasts flew back from him, as ripples in a pool. They breathed in his flame and burned from the belly outward, their hunger ended in seconds. Ganit shook, still blazing, though he felt it not. He made his way onward but it was many hours before Ganit reached the lake, his flame finally sputtering, and he lay in the dust near Brone to rest. When Ganit woke he could not tell his companions what he had seen or how he had arrived, the whole was as a dream forgotten to him. This small spot of madness, this transparent memory, stayed with Ganit the rest of his days, every once in a while catching at the corners of his mind but never fully realized again. At last he could only say, "I think death found me, but left me behind instead."
Lianzi smiled for his eyes knew all upon this world. "Yes, I think death has enough work and will not meddle with us now."
And though Brone knew where the hand of death had gone, she said nothing and the matter was forgotten. The lake was silent, though Lianzi had drawn the ghosts to him for days. They made a writhing shadow over the sun, but no longer wailed. Brone's breath was as a bright mist over the surface of the water, it rippled not, it the lake was a dark stone even in wind. Even as the emerald crowns of thousands of plants pushed through the water, it trembled not, but parted, still smooth to let each leaf and bud into the air. It was as a fall of snow when each lotus opened, a dazzling whirling, as a hundred brides dancing at once. The breath each lotus exhaled was dizzy sweetness, a warm burst, as if the sun had shone a lifetime on each one. Ganit watched as the ghosts stilled, their agony forgotten, themselves forgotten in the wonder of the lake. Transfixed, the silent spirits heeded not Lianzi's bright sword, which cut their ties into the world. A gleaming star, a pillar of dawn, Lianzi darted through the mass of ghosts, flashing through the gloom, a sword to split the smoke, separating chaff from seed. And each ghost as it was freed, swirled down into the lotus sea, spinning as a falling leaf, swallowed by the center of a lotus. On and on they dropped into the lake as if the night had fallen from the sky, flaking from the bright morning. Many moments passed, the mass of spirits ever shrinking, breaking apart, as a cloud after a sudden storm and Ganit realized the lake had drawn him, had drawn Brone to its edge. Ganit longed to plunge into the cool, dark water, to free himself of the gray dust of the land, of the memory of the land itself. He longed to lay his skin aside and be drunk in, devoured by the soft, warm petals, to be utterly lost in the bright heart of them. The air was empty now, the land bright with day, with natural air. Lianzi was still on the far side of the lake. He looked at Ganit and Brone and saw them rapt, peaceful and calm as after a long illness or the breaking of a fever of madness. Lianzi smiled his golden smile, but lowered not his sword. He stepped onto the lotus sea, their stems strong and hard from pushing through the muck, Lianzi walked over the top of the blossoms, light as a dry leaf. He hovered over Ganit and Brone, who noticed him not. He turned his thoughts to their tasks, and his smile faded then. A bare foot upon each lotus, he recalled Brone and Ganit. "You must choose." said Lianzi.
Brone looked up and wondered at Lianzi, this gold clad boy with the flaming sword who walked upon the water. Ganit started, but asked only, "Choose what?"
"Whether you will go with me out of this world or you will stay behind to help the world accept its end. I will not return in your lifetime."
"I cannot go with you Lianzi. Even if I had not the seed to keep me, I have now this child to protect." replied Brone, though her heart was filled with doubt and her face was saddened and weary where it had been gladdened and peaceful moments before.
"I'm sorry, Lianzi," said Ganit,"But I can leave neither Brone nor the people of this world in their era of need."
Lianzi smiled, "This is what I expected. I have found in you brave and righteous people and nothing would be more gratifying to me than to spare you the end of this world. But we all know what must be done. Fear not death, for you it will be as swimming into a lotus pool, as if you were being folded into an unconsuming flame. Remember the suffering you have seen here and grasp not at this world in your last moments," Lianzi turned to clasp Brone's hand. "Even should the end find you before you have finished your work."
Lianzi embraced Brone and then Ganit. "Alas," said Ganit, "that we should not meet again. You have been an excellent companion to us, who have been so long alone in this world."
"We are but three faces of the same spirit Ganit. We can never part, not truly. We may not meet again as we have, but I cannot fail to find you again, nor you find Brone again in a time out of time. And though it be millennia of striving until we reach that place, I will not fail to recognize you, nor you me."
Lianzi strode into the center of the lotus sea. Brone blew low and sweet again across the still waters and the flowers sunk again into the gloom taking Lianzi with them, his face smiling even as the cool dark water closed over his bright forehead.
Chapter 10
The world seemed dull and listless after Lianzi's departure, but at last Ganit and Brone again had hope in their heart. Facing the wreckage of the world, they had ever to travel toward the evening, ever toward the set of sun into the dark. It was only a few days before the footsteps of Brone and Ganit led them out of the ashen lands. Yet Ganit carried it with
him to the end of his life, as one of us carries the remains of our beloved, close to the chest.
The land was featureless, dry and grassy, every day colder with the endless wind. Brone and Ganit passed many houses, many villages and towns, yet no soul answered when they called. There was no fire, no frost, no sign of violence or madness. The people had just gone away, without warning or message to stragglers. They had taken nothing with them, yet they had departed the land never to return. Their beasts had followed. No pet or cattle, bird or fish did the travelers see in all the land. It was utterly desolate, not even the voice of angry ghosts to keep them company. They might have become mad with loneliness, had not Brone and Ganit been together. At first, because their bones ached with long travel and deep, ground-in dust, Brone and Ganit used the empty houses, the water and food and beds. For a while it was a relief not to wonder when the next meal would come or where the next camp would be. And Brone's child grew heavily in her, demanding food and rest. But it was long, as long as a moon turn and longer before they reached the Empty City, and the loneliness grew on their minds. Gradually it loomed over them, as if one of them would be snatched up when the other wasn't looking. Or that the owners of the dead houses would return to find them there. A few weeks they fought their fears, strove mightily to keep the silence at bay. At last though, the dread overwhelmed them. It pushed them on with icy fingers, with heavy palms, and the travelers foraged food from house to house but slept in them no more, preferring the open steppe, even though the air froze on their skin. They went faster as time went on, their footsteps lengthening and quickening in an unspoken wish to leave the emptiness behind. For the first time, Brone feared they might meet no more people, that Lianzi had taken them all. But neither Ganit nor Brone thought beyond their footsteps, though the desire to move on was great, they yet they resorted to nothing faster than their own feet. It was the ending of the world. What was the need to hurry towards its final throes? But then it began to snow.
It was deep winter when Brone and Ganit reached the Empty City at last. It was the natural turning of the season, not the horrendous cruel magic of the frost giants, nothing could dispel it. The lights had gone out in the city. Where once it shone so brightly that the stars thought it their own reflection, now was dark and moveless. The sky snowed into the Empty City, but no footprints were left in it, no one brushed it away or sculpted it into walls or huts. It sat, a frozen desert, the dunes piling up against the metal buildings, the darkened lanterns, sweeping into the corners of the paths of men only when the wind played over it. Its falling and the breathing of each were the loudest sounds Brone and Ganit heard in the Empty City. The afternoon they entered the Empty City, Brone and Ganit hid from the vast emptiness, from the deep silence of the snow. They found the kitchens of a dark palace and ate meals no one after them would eat again. They were the last walking men in a city where thousands had slept just weeks previously.
"They can't have died," said Brone softly into the dark.
"I thought they had, when we were in places where there had lived fewer men. But here, there would be bodies somewhere. Perhaps they were moved to safety."
"No, where are the signs to tell us where they've gone? Where we ought to go?"
"And there ought to be someone left, some son or daughter seeking lost parents, some husband returning for his wife." Ganit thought of his own family and spoke his own feelings aloud.
"No animals either. Not even a wild cat or dog or cattle. They would be here still. Perhaps Lianzi took them. Perhaps the angry ghosts were all these people. And they have gone into the lotus dream never to return."
"It cannot be. Not even in that press of gray ash were there enough souls to fill a city so big. And that was over a turning of the moon ago, yet the food we have eaten is fresh. We are only a few days from whatever has happened here."
"Maybe it is all ended at last."
"I think no seed could grow in steel and stone. We cannot have reached the end. But I think we will not find what did this, Brone."
But in the bright, quiet dawn of the Empty City, they did find out. The silver snow broke over the doorway of the dark palace as they pushed through, a shower of bright shadow that melded with the silent, shrouded streets. Brone, though she woke only moments before, was already exhausted and sick. Every morning for many long weeks had been so, but every day was harder than the last. She sighed heavily and sank back onto the floor. "What is it?" Ganit asked, kneeling quickly next to her. She smiled.
"Nothing. Just a little sick." she tapped the warm circle of her belly.
Ganit sat down beside her. "You know," he said, "If we had met earlier, I would be running to prepare you exotic foods. I hear women who are with child are very particular."
Brone laughed. "I'm not that picky. And bread is probably as exotic as it's going to get from now on."
Ganit smiled. "You never know. What would you eat now, if you could have anything you wanted?"
"Strawberries," she said, "No. Strawberries I would just smell. I'd walk a hundred more miles if I thought I could find chocolate though."
Ganit laughed and stood up, pulling her back to her feet. "Our mission today is chocolate then," he said and led her out into the brilliant sunlight.
She felt as an emptying pot, slowly trickling and dwindling while her child grew. Ganit knew they had to speed up and sought the steel dragons of his time, to carry them much faster than their feet could. Many were the roads they walked down that day, searching for a heavy dragon, one that would split the snow as waves upon the wide waters. Long into the afternoon they tarried seeking one. They found many that denied them entrance and many whose life had already gone out of their glowing eyes. This delay revealed what had taken the men of the Empty City away, had swept them up as dry grain.
They heard it first, the hollow ring of bone on frozen paths of rock. Over and over it rang out, ever closer. Brone and Ganit at first started towards it, yearning to know they weren't the last of men, needing to know where everyone had gone. But the sound was cold and dull. It's arrival began to be a burden on their hearts. On the edge of a great stone courtyard they first saw it, Arvakir, the sallow horse with burning eyes. Brone alone knew what it was. She breathed deeply, but her heart was still troubled.
"What is it?" asked Ganit.
"I did not tell you all that happened in the land of the hungry ghosts. When I was alone I met Ethon, the copper mare. She was deep in labor, even unto death. Still she spat poisonous words even as I aided her."
"This is not Ethon though, Brone. That mare was vital, rich and heavy. It had seen battle, many, many times. This horse is dwindling, a thing of brittle sticks and mottled ghost flesh. The copper mare never made my heart to become stone nor my flesh to twist and curdle as this creature does."
"No Ganit, this is not Ethon. I think perhaps she is dead, though I did all that could be done. This is the foal that slipped from her. I think it is the Unmaker. I think we are seeing Death. I think it not only takes our breath but wipes the earth clean of us. I think that's why there are no bodies."
"But there is no one left. Why would it linger here?"
Even as Ganit asked, the Death horse screamed. It rent the air, shattered the far stones of the square and razed the buildings of men, buildings that stood longer than our longest legends, gone into a swirl of dust that spiraled into the sky and disappeared, poof, as man's breath upon the winter air. Yellow brick, golden stone burst, a sparkling shadow on the snow and panes of window glass crumbling, mingling unseen in the ice. Man's memory, its footprint, brushed away, filled in, gone with the owner, never to return.
"Run" whispered Ganit and took Brone's hand. Back they ran, back into the depths of the silent city, their steps and breath shrieking in their ears. Arvakir saw them, his milk-white eyes lighting with blue fire. He marked them and knew it was neither Brone nor Ganit's time, for he followed a divine schedule, free of Ethon, of his brothers, of any time line of the world. It would all be unmade, eventu
ally it would all be gone. It mattered not to the Death horse when. So he let Brone and Ganit go, though they did not realize it.
Long minutes they ran, their breath like liquid fire in the throat of each. At last Brone choked and was sick on the snow. Ganit stopped and helped her up, helped her clean her mouth and face. Ganit's face was red as ripe berries and Brone gasped as fish in a basket. They waited in despair for the Death horse, but it did not come. At last they looked about them. There, half buried in a drift of snow, was the carcass of a steel dragon, its fin wide and tall to cut the snow. Great brown sores covered its skin, but Ganit climbed in anyway. One of it's eyes was a vacant pit and its guts spilled yellow and soft from its tough seat skin. But it roared and swishing it's back end just a little, moved forward, spraying ice and snow as sea mist off its bow.
"Get in," called Ganit, "We've got to go faster than that thing, that Ghost Horse."
"How will we feed this dragon?" shouted Brone over its constant roar.
The Jade Seed Page 8
