Lighting Distant Shores

by Nathan Thompson

  Destroyer… Destroyer…

  The entity remembered this weapon, incomplete though it was. It was only my instinct, but I felt that the Flood’s fear of Breaker had increased over the aeons, not lessened. The mist did not return to threaten our ship. Several members of the crew let out a deep sigh of relief at the sight. It reminded me that I should be giving them more credit for daring to come out here at all.

  The contact wards just flashed, Gabin sent to me urgently. Other creatures are heading toward our ship.

  Can the wards take care of them like they did before? I asked him, suspecting that I already knew the answer.

  Not if hundreds of creatures make the attempt, he replied. And even then, every bit of power those wards use will be power we cannot use for another glyph.

  Then it’s time for my team to step up, I replied. We’ll resort to the glyphs if we get overwhelmed. In the meantime, the mages will integrate with your ship while the rest of us repel any invaders. Continue heading toward where Atlantis should be. We’ll know what to do after we take a look at the seal’s condition.

  It was video game logic, but I believed that the source of the Flood, its weak point—assuming it had one—would be at the center of the city it had devoured. It may have been infesting these mountains for even longer, but they struck me as secondary structures, as boundary markers or guard posts. None of them looked any different from each other, and I felt like exploring them would be nothing more than a needless risk right now.

  I was betting our lives on my decision, and I wasn’t happy about it. But for now, there was still nothing to do but hope I wasn’t wrong.

  We worked out positions for my team to take. Breena and I both had the strongest light sources, so most of our mana would be held in reserve for driving off the shadowy attacks of the Flood. Weylin wasn’t expecting to shoot any enemy under water, so he invested his Air magic into powering the ship’s movement.Via actually did the same. As an Oceanfolk and a Watermage, she probably had as large a mana pool as anyone but me or Breena, and her whip could be used to fight or work magic interchangeably. But Water was probably the most useful magic to invest in a glyph ship, as it could enhance any aspect of the vessel.

  Karim also chose to pour power directly into the ship, investing Script magic into it. Script magic was probably the second most useful magic for a glyph ship, provided the investor was willing to spend the energy renewing every single glyph on the ship, over and over. But the scribe-mage took to it without complaint, patiently and steadily writing symbols into the air that flowed into the glowing parts of the ship.

  Val drew her blades, but she still put most of her Shadow magic into the glyphs, making our ship just a little harder to notice. I didn’t know if that would accomplish anything, but I trusted her judgement on what to do with her own magic.

  With that done, everyone else took position around the ship to repel boarders. Now that we were burning mana, our ship flew through the water, already moving quickly, thanks to the pull from the magic in the water. In spite of that, I could still see torpedo-like currents closing in on our ship from all sides.

  “Get ready,” Gabin called loudly to his crew. They had all donned their armor and weapons long before the first island came into view. Their spears, sabers, and shell-mail all flashed in the dim light.

  I heard the first thud come from the port side of the ship. A few minutes later, the dead, fishlike head of one of the Scum Hordebeasts leered over the railing at us.

  A sailor stabbed it through the mouth with his spear, hard enough to tear the monster’s head apart and knock its body back into the water. His action illustrated just how effective a polearm would be in this encounter. But Breaker’s current form was needed due to the light it provided, and I had no idea if I could ward us against the darkness if I chose to fight with Shard instead. So I took a deep breath and let my people do their jobs, as Breyn and Eadric and Val all performed their bloody tasks along the railings of the ship, stabbing and hacking over the rails whenever monsters attacked. Here and there, I saw Petal flit around and blast fiery darts into a monster’s head. Every now and then, some monster I had never seen before would emerge over the railing, things that looked to have been decomposing on the bottom of the ocean for ages, yet still somehow held together, flailing crablike claws or half-rotten tentacles. My team still tore through them, but I began to worry over the growing number of monsters still crawling onto our vessel.

  Finally, their numbers thinned down, and after Val sliced the head off of some barnacle-covered corpse, no further monster crawled on board. Our ship pulled ahead as the last of the rippling shapes in the water failed to catch us. We were free to turn our attention forward, to the hazy shape that seemed to pull against the hull of our boat.

  Im—Gabin had started to say, then stopped, apparently realizing just how many times he had already said the word ‘impossible’ today. They’ve raised it, he said instead. Atlantis itself. The monsters have raised it from under the sea.

  How could they do that? I asked, because the seal that was supposed to prevent the Flood was altering the city by moving it around. But the Atlantean just shrugged helplessly.

  I have no idea, he admitted. The only conclusion I can make is that something else broke through the seal of the city and raised it themselves.

  That seemed like a pointless and dangerous exercise, but the only way to get to the bottom of it was to enter the haunted city.

  As we drew even closer, Breaker jerked in my grip.

  I held onto it easily, but the weapon’s handle still twitched, as if there was a magnet somewhere inside of the city just ahead. I remembered the way the handle had pulled back in the Woadlands, when I had found Claimh Solais to be buried inside the world’s Trial.

  Breena, I sent urgently. What is the name of the piece of Breaker located in this world?

  There isn’t one, as far as we know, she replied in a baffled tone. It’s never been found, or I would have led you to it. Why?

  Because something is happening to my weapon again, and it’s either going to be really good or really, really bad, I told her grimly.

  The hazy city became more visible as we drew closer to it. A purple hemisphere covered most of the city above the waves, but large cracks ran along it, like someone had dropped a snowglobe. Here and there, the cracks formed holes the size of buildings, where black mist billowed out like smoke from a fire. The mist drifted toward the mountains all around us, connecting to them in a giant column high up in the sky that we had not noticed until now.

  The current was pulling us to one such hole at the base, the only one where the Flood’s mist didn’t leak out. It loomed open before us, threatening and inviting all at once.

  When I looked back at our wake, I noticed the black shapes from the mountains billowing across the waves after us, hemming us in and herding us inside the cursed city. Gabin grimly commanded the crew to head toward the opening, not that we had much choice. The Flood wouldn’t begin closing on us if it didn’t believe it could overwhelm Breaker and Breena. And its current mass was at least a hundred thousand times greater than what I had barely managed to conquer under Avalon. If it hadn’t been for the pull I felt on Breaker, I would have believed that I had led us into a fatal trap, that I had doomed all of Avalon’s worlds by making the wrong call at the worst possible time. But it was too late now for thoughts like that to do anything but guarantee our defeat. So I clamped my teeth together and did my best to look calm, and in control, like I was completely confident things hadn’t just horribly gone wrong.

  My team must have been devoted enough to believe me, because no one said a word as we approached the massive jagged hole cracked into the massive purple hemisphere.

  Breena intensified her light, and the shadows drew back apathetically, content for us to enter the city, for reasons I could not guess. Based on the Nuckelavee’s rhymes, this was the place where the Flood brought its victims.

  So we entered into the lost city
of Atlantis, possibly the first people to do so since the recorded history of my own world.

  Much of the city reminded me of the pictures I had seen of locations where people took romantic boat rides through cities with large canals. The waterways were like roads, a reminder that this was a city of the sea itself, even if one that spent much of its life beneath the water’s surface. I could only make out hints of the architecture through the darkness, but it seemed as if most of the buildings were made out of limestone.

  But they kept disappearing. I would see one for only a few moments before black shapes swarmed the structure and turned it into something else, like a crab claw, or a tentacle. One of them even became a massive mouth that smiled at us with gray teeth, before it melted back into the water, leaving no trace of the building that had been there before.

  You should not have come here, a child’s numb voice said in our minds. I thought this one might be a girl, but it was hard to tell. Do you not see? It was the Flood that wrecked this home.

  “Greetings, creepy child number 38,” I said out loud, in the calmest voice I could muster. That last sight with the giant mouth had been a lot to handle, even for me. “We’ve come here to save you. Kindly direct us to the center of this giant nightmare thing, so we can all stab it until it dies.”

  That will not work, the numb girl’s voice replied without missing a beat. Do you not see? You cannot save us. You are marked yourself. You, with the pain and sadness on your palm.

  That was a new kind of nonsense, and I cocked my head in confusion. But my right hand suddenly flinched, bringing back the latest of my nightmares.

  Yes, the little girl said, still speaking with her numb, flat voice. It was the Flood that wrecked your house. You are one of us now. I am sorry, she added after a moment, coloring her tone with the faintest hint of pity.

  Wes? Breena sent to me nervously. Are you okay?

  Please don’t step on my hand, my brokenness answered her.

  I had no idea if she heard it or not, but it frustrated and terrified me. I am past this, I told myself. I had gotten victory over this memory. Why is it still here?

  Please don’t step on my hand, my brokenness spoke up again. It started firing off like a minute gun, giving me just enough time between pleas to make me think that the one before had been the last one.

  Wes? Breena repeated. Even though I could have sworn I had just answered her. Are you okay?

  He cannot hear you, the little girl said sadly. He is one of us, now. His mind is full of pain that had no reason to be caused. It was defenseless, and now the Flood has wrecked his house.

  Like hell, someone growled, and I realized it was Eadric. The shock of him speaking up on my behalf startled me out of my crazed chant for a moment.

  And other voices spoke up at the exact same time.

  They cannot have my brother! Val shouted, and something powerful crackled over the mindlink as she spoke. I will fight you all for him, no matter how broken you make him think he is!

  The dark city shifted all around us. It carried us deeper into itself.

  Get away from Wes! Breena’s mind screeched. Her voice was shrill, but something in my mind snapped back into place. Get away from Wes! Get away from Wes! Get away from Wes!

  A lightbulb flickered inside my brain, letting me take in sights and sounds and memories that were not pain.

  My name is Wes, a stray thought said as it drifted through my brain.

  Please don’t step on my hand, my brokenness countered, as if it were fighting for control.

  Just ahead of us, a building-sized eyeball opened, looked at us, and hissed with a mouth it did not have. We went deeper into the hidden city.

  Please don’t step on my hand, my brain repeated as I wrestled with it.

  Stupid, crazy thing! Via shouted next. He will not lose to you! I have seen him! He does not lose when it counts the most!

  The chant rattled out of my mind for a few sane moments. The next building we passed grumbled at us with a fanged mouth, but did not stop us from sailing farther in.

  You can’t break him! Petal snapped in my mind, Breyn growling with her in agreement. He was unbreaking others long before he was ever whole himself! You have no chance!

  My vision flashed. For a moment, I realized that I was sailing on a ship and not dangling above a pit of boiling water.

  Please don’t… the chant faltered. My name is Wes, my brain said instead.

  Our ship moved through the water even faster. The buildings swirled all around us now. Wiggling shapes detached from them and began to chase after us.

  Chase after him all you want, Gabin said calmly. My people have already borne witness to his first victory over you. We do not doubt that he will do so again. He is not your prey, mad thing. He is your end.

  The water in front of us shifted. A limestone tower fell into the water that lay in our path. It emerged from the water in the next moment as a mass of fangs and tentacles. The mouth yawned over me, causing everyone next to me, and the ship beneath my feet, to suddenly disappear.

  The only thing left was a ledge that I was desperately grabbing a hold of, and a pit of boiling water just under my feet.

  The armband on my bicep began to burn. A familiar, lilting voice spoke through it.

  Now? Merada’s voice said in my mind, as the armband continued to buzz. I can speak to him? It be permitted?

  Crown him, the voice commanded. And write love over his wounded hand.

  Thank ye, Merada said to the other voice. And thank ye for everythin’ else. Hello, Wes. Ye be hearin’ me right now?

  I tried to remember who Merada was. I remembered brown hair, and blue face ink, and lovely long legs, and hands that held my face so that she could kiss it.

  I think ye be hearin’ me, the Celtic warrior princess continued. So I’ll be takin’ me chances. I miss ye. Ye took part of me heart when ye left. But ye left part of yer own on me own arm. Ye saved me from one of me demons, Malcolm. I reckon it be time for me to help save ye from one of yer own. If ye don’t mind, that is?

  That was right. Now I remembered. She was fierce, and courageous, and kind. And she was the first woman brave enough to love me openly, to proclaim that I was worthy of romance.

  I don’t have any magic words to tell ye, though. And I can’t be there in person, to fight this thing for ye. I can’t even talk to ye often, like I want to. But, in a way, she continued, as a warm sensation traveled from my armband and up to my hand, the one grabbing onto the ledge. I can hold yer hand.

  The picture fizzled. I was briefly somewhere else. Somewhere dark, but with warm bodies all around me.

  I’ve got him, Via’s voice said, as she tugged on my other hand. Merada, you can hear me, verdad?

  Aye, Via, Merada said to her. How are ye, lass?

  Bien, the other accented beauty replied. Still trying to keep el guapo loco alive, however.

  Ha! Merada laughed. That be his best name yet! Where be Little Bree?

  I’m here! Breena’s voice said from behind me. Two slender arms wrapped around my chest, and a thin, womanly body pressed into my back. And I’m not gonna let him go, either! We’ve all got you, Wes! Do you hear me, Wes? You are not alone!

  The madness in my brain fizzled again. My vision turned to nothing but blurry static.

  Update, a voice said in my mind. Atlantis has discovered additional resources for recovery. Activating memory for further repairs. Final repairs will be subject to the actions and insight of the patient himself.

  My vision returned, bringing me back to the sight of myself dangling over the rapidly filling vat of boiling water. Above me was the guard that my memory self was begging to have mercy, to leave me alone and not make me fall down to my scalding death.

  “Please don’t step on my hand,” the memory begged. “Please don’t step on my hand.”

  He started to babble again, but I walked through the air to stand next to him. I knelt down, hovering to where he could see me, and spoke:

>   “You are glorious,” I said to my broken memory.

  He stopped babbling long enough to turn his head, to look at me with unfocused eyes.

  “What?” he asked, as his pupils danced about.

  “I said, you are glorious,” I told my memory. “You have accomplished much, in spite of your brokenness. In spite of all the pain, and fear, and shame you feel.”

  “You’re wrong,” the old me sobbed. “I didn’t do anything. I’m broken. I just want people to leave me alone. To not step on my hand.”

  “That’s the pain talking,” I told him, “and pain is a liar. It’s lied to us all our lives. Every time it said we couldn’t do something. And if you don’t believe me, look at your hand,” I pointed to the memory’s hand as it gripped the rock.

  “My hand,” he said, his voice quivering. “Please don’t let him step on my hand.”

  “Why should he even need to?” I demanded. “Why is your hand working at all? Don’t you remember our old condition?”

  The unfocused eyes blinked for a moment.

  “Head,” he said, remembering. “Cripplehead. That’s what they call us. Because something broke in our head. That’s why it hurts to move or think. That’s why we can’t walk or do anything.”

  “You shouldn’t be able to use your hands!” I shouted at him. “You shouldn’t be hanging here at all right now! You should already be dead!”

  He blinked at me.

  “Your pain is a liar,” I told him. “It thinks it knows everything, but the truth is that it will never be able to tell you what you can or cannot do. It can only tell you when something hurts. Nothing more than that. It doesn’t know anything about victory, it doesn’t know anything about defeat, it doesn’t know anything about all the people loving you right now, fighting for you so that you can try and make it through this experience. The real truth, regardless of whether or not you believe or not, is that you are glorious.”

  The vision shuddered again. Damaged-Me blinked slowly, his eyes focusing a little more. He started taking steady breaths. After another moment, he spoke, finally sounding calm.