Chapter 14
The steel dragon had starved at last, dying on the empty road, for Brone and Ganit had encountered no more large villages, and had dared not stop at the small ones. They walked now, as they had done so often, but the days were growing warmer, though winter's tide was not yet turning. Ever south and west walked Brone and Ganit, now off the roads, for they feared the flood of fleeing men would overtake them. Deep, deep into the breathless forest they walked, ever toward a range of mighty mountains. They were slower now, Brone's hips filled with deep aching as they moved to make room, the child quietly outgrowing Brone's skin. Ganit measured the time by the soft swell of her belly and his heart was happy, filled with Brone, filled with dreams of the first children of the world. But the child was a stone dragging on Brone's heart. Brone lingered close to Ganit now, her fingertips often finding his, pressing her hand to his face when she thought he slept, and she knew she was lost to him at last. She found herself weak with sorrow, so she drew hope from him as one draws water from a spring.
They emerged one evening from the dense jungle into the high hills where the night grew cool. The only open path lay west through the mountains, but here on an open hill as the sun drenched it in gold and rose, Brone and Ganit stopped to rest. The evening was cooling quickly and Ganit heaped dead bracken on the hilltop for a fire to warm them, while Brone wound to the bottom of the hill to a spring for clear water. Brone filled their water jars and bathed in the clean, cold water. At last, hearing the pop of the fire, she looked up. Ganit was looking through the mountains searching for the path. He was suffused with light, the last of the day lingering on him and the quick flashing of the fire touching his face, but these were dim, old, cracked light that memories are made of. But beneath his skin welled the dawn untrembling, and Brone saw it now, as she never had before, a still, silent flame that staved off the bitter dusk. Ganit looked down then, away from the mountains, to find where she had gone. He saw her watching him and smiled. Suddenly, it was as if Brone woke from a long illness. She turned and sat on the bank of that clear spring, as if she had lost her balance. Ganit's smile faltered and he ran down the hill to her.
"What is it? What's happened?"
She turned to face him, alarmed by his speed. "Nothing. I didn't mean to scare you."
He sat next to her. "You're soaking wet. This water is freezing, why don't you come back to the fire?"
She took his hand. "I know we aren't at the end yet. At night, in sleep, I sometimes see us as we ought to have been. Without all this ruin and madness."
He pulled her hands up to his face and blew warmth back into them, but his face was pale and his mouth trembled. "Do you think," she continued,"it would do any harm to live that way now? To think that this will end someday, that we can have the lives we ought to have had?"
He looked at her a long moment. "Have I ever thought differently? There will come a time when this road will end. I have already planned our home. Warm and small, near clear streams in deep forests. I have already dreamed our children grown, our grandchildren born and playing. There can be nothing worse than what we have seen or what we have dreaded for each other, how can hoping harm us now? Let us be happy now, for what time we have." He smiled, but his eyes wept.
She brushed his cheek with a cool hand. "I love you."
He laughed lightly. "I know," he said.
"But I didn't know."
He kissed her as the last of the sun spent itself upon the old world and sank beneath it forever. The jade seed, the tiny star, thrust forth a tiny feathered leaf and it's violet flame glowed more fiercely, but Ganit and Brone saw it not, not yet.
A cool breeze woke Brone at last, and finding the fire's ashes damp and dead she wondered if they had slept the day through in their exhaustion. She turned to wake Ganit, but she found he was not there. Then she realized how deep the night was. Neither moon nor star shone through the dark, and Brone thought a great storm must be hanging overhead. She rose and began to dress, only then realizing that the seed had been her sole light. She unwrapped it and held the tiny feathered leaf in her hand. She called to Ganit, but no answer came. Her hands shook and the light wavered, and she called again. It was utterly dark and silent. Brone shut her eyes. She felt the tiny weight of the bursting seed, still warm from her skin. Brone cried out for Ganit once more, and her throat clotted as he crested the hill. His flesh was that of a star, cool violet, he lit the dark, casting no shadow. He stumbled. "Where are you?" he called, "Say something so I can find you."
"What do you mean?"
He felt her flinch as he drew near to her. "It can't hurt you, just light and no flame. It woke me from the dark." He touched her hand, and his skin was his still, warm and rough.
"Does it hurt? What has happened?"
"No, it doesn't hurt, but my eyes are bewildered with the brightness, I can't see beyond my own feet. I only wanted to find out what had become of me and wandered into the stream. I was trying to find my way back when you called. You will have to lead me until it passes."
"We can wait until dawn, the daylight will overwhelm this light and you will be able to see again."
Long they waited, in that moveless dark, but the light never burst over the eastern horizon. The sun of the old world was dead, an ashen skull buried forever in the sand of western shores. At last, when Brone and Ganit had waited overlong for the day, they rose and Brone picked their way slowly west. In the violet twilight shadow of Ganit, the world was crooked and wavering. A darkness alive with predatory noise, a hunched, coiled landscape that moved wherever Brone could not see, wherever Ganit's halo ended. She led him in silence, wholly focused on their next steps and the low, aching weight in her hips where their child sat, gathering itself in the warm dark. Brone was tender in her care of Ganit, picking the easiest paths and holding him up over stumbling holes. Ganit walked as one lost in the smooth bright cave of an enormous sea shell, the jungle animals screaming their alarm around him, the violet flame of his skin filling his sight. His ears ached to hear her speak, and Brone's warm, dry palm filled all of his thoughts.
At last Ganit heard the morning birds singing, yet still no light broke upon them. He felt Brone stumble beside him. "It's morning, we should find somewhere to rest."
"I can gather no wood, nor have I seen free running water since we left the stream."
"We must trust to our good luck, for I can walk no farther."
They found no comfort, for the ground twisted with old vines and sharp roots and all the small things of the earth skittered and slid around them, scattering over the ground in panic at the ever lengthening dark. Yet Brone and Ganit slept, so exhausted even the violent brightness of Ganit's corona did not wake them. The hungering beasts, still frightened of dawn, crept through the dark around them, inheriting the earth for a time, free to feed unhindered by the day. It was the cold that woke them at last. Ganit shook with the chill, his light trembling about him, as if it was moonlight on deep waters. He sprang up to quicken his blood. "They say dying of cold is no more painful than falling asleep. But when I think that we shall never be warm again, that all the world's life is draining away in this long, long night. Oh Brone! How sad I am, how jealous of the warmth each breath steals from our chests!"
But Brone bundled him tightly, warmed him with herself. "We shall have to be more careful now," she said, "We cannot sleep without a fire any longer. Who knows how far it will be until we find a welcoming hearth?"
He touched her shoulder. "I'm not sure there are any more in the world. Maybe this is where you were meant to stop, the seed could not grow without the light of day."
"No, this cannot be the place. I was to travel until nothing moved around me."
He sat again among the roots. "I know."
"What are you doing? We cannot stay here Ganit, it's too cold, we need to move and quicken ourselves until we can make a fire."
But Ganit did not move. "Do you know why you have to wait until the whole world has passed into memory before
you can complete your journey?"
She sank beside him suddenly weary. "I don't know, I suppose every seed must be planted in its own time to flourish."
He clasped her hand. "Yes, every seed to it's own time. Long and long I have thought on this." He stopped to touch her face. "We are part of another time, you and I. In all its long ages, this world has been flawed. It's such a weight, these memories we trail behind us. They've bent us as surely as the weight of wind or water has done to the earth itself. This seed, this future that is coming will not survive in our time, not with all that has come before."
"So we are being washed away. The people, the stories and dwellings, even the tombstones, all gone, passed beyond even memory's grasp." Brone began to weep quietly.
"Oh, my love, even the birds of the air and the smallest ant, they have all gone into the dusk of the world. But it is not enough Brone." He squeezed her hand tightly and Brone's blood stopped with grief, because she knew, she knew what Ganit was going to do.
"Not yet, oh, not yet." She embraced him and wept.
"You've known all these long months that we must part some day Brone. Longer than even I have known it. All the better have I loved you knowing it. But you and I are part of the passing world. Whatever happens next, what ever sort of life will grow here, it's not for us to see, or to taint. A seed cannot grow in the dark of the night, my love. Already I have waited too long, may I be forgiven this great weakness I have had for you, I hope it has not cost everything. With every moment the world cools and what chance of life it has drains away. For you now, Brone, are the last and bravest steps reserved."
"You are unharmed, you are not ill, how could I leave you to die here? It may be months or years before the end, how could I stray so long, knowing you were somewhere suffering in the world?" She wept, though she had long ago hardened her heart against that moment, forearmed was she all the more defeated.
"If I were ill you would not leave, though death sat beside us all the while. If I had met an accident you would die with me. Long may you have kept your heart secret from yourself but my eyes grow ever keener now that they cannot see the world. Here we must part, while your feet will still carry you away from me. We are all dying Brone, in this long dark. The earth wanes away and starves in the cold. The leaves and birds will fall, the creeping animals slow and stop, even you and I must sleep at last. I have only to close my eyes and dream of you. I know we will not be long parted."
A deep flame sparked in Brone's chest, so deep she had forgotten it was there at all. "Ganit, all this time you believed we would come through this together, all this time you made me want to hope for something beyond the bleak end of each day. Do you think you have survived thus far by your will alone, that now, laying it aside you will simply fall into death like a dream? How can you say this now?"
He closed his eyes and slow, bright tears fell from them. "Alas, place not that bitter draught to my lips again. Already I have drunk deeply from it. Already the world punishes my arrogance not only with this deadly darkness but with the hope I know I have planted in your heart, in your very blood and bone and belly. It is not my will that has kept me here so long Brone, not when all around has been swept away. Not my will, but yours. There is something in you that I can not match, something that drives you even after all of this. All this time, I thought to keep you dreaming of another day, a brighter morning than the ones we have seen. But you didn't need it. Even though all the world should fall around you, even when I should die, still you would keep going. That's why you were chosen Brone, of all the people that have walked the long days of this world, that's why it was only for you. Until the day the sun went out, until the day I found you were leaning on me to come through this. This long night, this is punishment for kindling that weakness in you. I know now Brone, we will not come through this at all. All this time you have been right, all this time there has been no hope of stopping this." Ganit turned from her and buried his bright head in his arms. "Too late," he cried, "Too late I have seen the damage I have done to you and now must rend the crutch away before you cannot walk without it."
Their breaths came now in great gray spumes as the chilling night deepened. "You cannot just lie down and let the cold take you Ganit. There may still be villages, cities where people survive, we don't know if we are even close to the end. How can you stop now?"
"How many miles, how many months will you wander before you decide the time is right? Must the seed freeze to your flesh in the dark before you will see? And will you drag a blind man with you? How many circles have we walked in this dark going nowhere? I cannot help you now, I can no longer defend you from your enemies, nor find the path, short is the time I can even keep you warm in this frozen waste. You must go forward, you must let the world go. You must let me go."
"Am I not as blind as you in this everlasting night? Without you I have nothing to guide my feet. Without you I have nothing to guide my heart. This is madness. All that will happen is we two last of all the world shall die apart, grieving for the other."
"Alas, strive no more with me Brone! Already my mind is half undone, my will is not so strong as yours. Just this last time, trust my heart to guide us both, I'll never ask it of you again."
Brone drew herself up, already alone, already gone. "One more day," she said, "Let me have one more with you and I will go."
Ganit shook his head. "Every minute lessens your chances, the cold creeps steadily on."
"I cannot leave you without at least a fire to warm you, in case . . . "
"It would only lengthen my sorrow, can you not see that I am ready?"
"But I am not. Let me think you warm and safe as long as I am able, can you not grant me that? At the very least I must find a way to light my own path, how far would I get without that, give me just this day."
He said nothing, but rose to his feet and she took his hand. "No more fighting," she said and kissed his eyes.
They moved through those dark hours almost in silence. Gathering what wood they could find into a large pile, tying the straight ones into a bundle for torches to light Brone's lonesome road. Hard as they worked, still, the cold crept on, biting through even the warmth of their bones. And all that long, lightless day, Brone thought only of how to make Ganit continue on, how to keep him beside her. Ganit's thoughts were turned to his memories, as all dying men will do. He reached for her often, knowing how soon it would be that she was no longer there. At last, all was finished, a fire blazing, deep gold battling the cold violet of Ganit's glow. The shadows of the world scattered and splintered away in a brilliant circle of day. Still, Brone lingered, her feet slow and stumbling in the cold.
"Is there no other way? Why will you not try?" she cried.
"No more fighting," he said and smiled sadly. She touched his hand and found it as chilled as old dust, as hoarfrost in the early morning.
"When I'm done- when it's finished I'll return to you." She looked long at his face, long to keep it bright in the dark road ahead.
"No Brone, do not come back to this place. I shall not be here. All will be ash and frost and grief. Do not return here."
"Shall I not even have a tomb, a stone to mark where I left my heart?"
"Oh, Brone, the whole world is the tomb for us. We will not be parted long I think, for the earth grows ever colder, ever more silent. My very breath freezes upon my lips." He shuddered and sat upon the frozen ground near the fire. Brone knelt next to him. Ganit stroked her cheek. "Alas, that I cannot see your beautiful face." Slow tears rolled down his cheeks leaving slivers of frost in their wake.
"Is there nothing I can do for you?" cried Brone.
"Kiss me goodnight, dearest."
Wrapping him in the blankets they had so long shared, she kissed him.
"I love you," she said.
"And I will always love you. Goodnight Brone."
"Goodnight Ganit. I will be with you soon."
Brone lit her first torch from the bonfire and walked away. She could not
bring herself to look back, but Ganit listened to her retreating footsteps until he could only imagine their sound. At last as the cold began to steal the feeling from his skin, Ganit slept. Deep in his chest, though he knew it not, he began to burn with a deep golden warmth that spread from heart to blood, blood to skin, spilling out into the air as he slept.
Chapter 15
Brone stumbled often, weary and cold, her sight bleary with grief. Ever south and west, deeper and deeper into the dark jungle she traveled. So great was her longing for Ganit, that her feet bled cool glowing foxglove at every step, a living trail to guide her heart back home. Not long though, could even Brone's growing magic last in the bitter chill, and the glow winked out hours after she passed, like stars sleeping until some warmer dawn. At last exhausted, Brone sheltered in the cleft of an old hollow tree, guarding the entrance with a meager fire. She curled herself around her softly swelling belly and wept herself to sleep.
She woke in the glow of the last coals and though her heart had no taste for it, Brone rose and lit another torch in the darkness. Gathering herself, she held what warmth she had beneath her heart and walked on. How often her thoughts turned to Ganit, wondering if he yet woke, if his beautiful brilliant light had dimmed, had flickered out. So she walked as in a fevered dream, the frost of her breath and tears weighting her lashes, her clothes and hair with silver. So heavy, so heavy was she, the child she bore seemed nothing.
Almost, she turned again, to seek him out, to lay herself once more beside him and sleep. But Brone recognized what Ganit had done, what they both had suffered, was not for themselves. Although there may come none to remember them, she could not lay aside all they had done. Life will have its way, even in the cold dark alone. So her feet kept moving. Without stars or sun, Brone knew not how long she wandered. Only the dwindling supply of food in the face of her child's ravenous hunger made her realize how soon it must end. Sleeping whenever her feet refused to take her farther or when she happened upon dry shelter where she could warm herself with fire, her loneliness shrouded any passage of time and each hour was as the previous, unending and chilled with sorrow. Slowly, slowly her belly curved and smoothly grew and at last, she felt the child quicken within her. She wept to feel it move, thinking only of the joy it would have brought to Ganit's face to feel it there.
The Jade Seed Page 11
