A Dyad in Time

by D. D. Prideaux

  Tae despaired as she saw her new friend fall onto her back, watching the other woman fly twenty feet in the other direction like a rag doll. As she reached the pinnacle of her unceremonious arching flight and about to start her descent into the ground, a bright blue ball of energy smashed into her, flinging her further into the distance. Calculating where this evil person would land, Tae waited for her to hit the concrete before she unleashed purple rage onto the space she slammed in to. Dust billowed as she fired, buildings started collapsing as she relentlessly pummelled, screams came from nearby at the horror she visited upon the woman who hurt her new, kind friend. She wouldn’t stop firing until she had nothing left in her and that would take a long time. She wasn’t tired and even when she got that way, she’d find renewed energy at the thought of having lost her new, kind friend. She’d be avenged. Now. The thought of loss dug at her though, her purple haze dissipating just long enough to see movement. A red cloak swamped Eve’s form, a face looking up at her and shouting. Green eyes were pleading, lightly browned skin pulled tight against a frown that was surrounded by luxurious, shining, black hair. What was she shouting at her?

  “MOVE!”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - PORTALS

  At agreeing to go to China The Archive lost a few decades from his face. His body followed suit and before they could discuss the details of the task any further, the spritely old man was leading them to a hidden part of the Library, buried behind endless spines and countless pages. They shared a few looks as they went past the timeless records, wondering where they were going. Deeper and deeper into the library they went, glancing over their shoulders at the exit and where they thought they should be heading to reach China. Suddenly, they stopped and arthritic hands started pawing at the spines whilst wrinkled lips uttered mnemonics to them. Eventually after a few failed attempts at book pulling, one didn’t fall back into place, and a faint click sounded before the wall swept to the side, revealing a cosy reading room.

  “Old tricks are the best.” The old man said proudly before walking in and waiting patiently for his companions to follow. “Welcome to my office.” As they crossed into the small, warm room the wall behind them judiciously swung back into place with a satisfying sliding noise. “Can’t have the Fledglings messing with my things.” The Archive said wistfully towards the door. “Or most of the other clerics to be honest.” A sly grin appeared across his face. “Accept Augustine. We like her.”

  Walking over to a modest desk towards the back of the room, Cleric Aitch threw his hands about in seemingly chaotic movements, murmuring a three-part phrase, “Eternal glow, sight untrue. Mirage fade and lidless eye. Reveal.” At the end of the blurry hand sequence, he stood perfectly still, moving his hands to complete one slow circle movement at which a snapping sound cracked through the air, light filling the room. When their eyes recovered, a recess in one of the walls had appeared, with a dark red box sitting in it. Khar and K’Chool were speechless as they followed the once doddery old man on his adventure through the library.

  “I’m not supposed to have these.” The old man laughed to himself, thinking about how he’d smuggled the Porträlen into the monastery. His sources of entertainment over last century or two, mostly seemed to be around frustrating other Sojela or keeping things hidden from prying eyes. Or was it three centuries? “The Twins would have wanted me to have them though.”

  Khar hadn’t fully recovered from any of the revelations he’d seen or heard this last night, blindly rolling with events in the hope that answers would follow. He thought the only questions that needed answering were about The Betrayer, Tor and Eve, however, The Archive was thoroughly enjoying himself in revealing other information that he knew would capture Khar’s interest. Momentarily losing focus on their real goal, marvelling at the existence of invisibility spells and dumbfounded by Cleric Aitch’s behaviour, he could only ask, “Who are the Twins?”.

  “For another time, Weyaal.” The Archive smiled as he pulled on the quicksilver gloves. He was clearly playing with Khar, revelling in how entertaining it was to confuse him before sending him on an errand. “We have more pressing issues to attend to.” Spinning on his heels with an agility that betrayed his years, he whipped his hands outwards and pulled a door shaped window into existence with ease. “China awaits.” He said proudly, waving them to go through the portal.

  Khar and K'Chool could only stand there, staring. It shimmered with a faint morning light, giving off a slight humming sound. They looked through the magik door at a gravel path, bathed in the morning light that wasn’t theirs, bordered by beautiful wooden arches. Deep red, square and ornate, they stood about four feet apart and stretched off into the distance. Each had what looked like stylised wings branching from the top with a heavy Eastern influence on their design. Like one side of a pagoda, they repeated over and over again. Elegant dominoes stood patiently, meandering away from them towards an unseen destination. Cleric Aitch continued to smile to himself at his good work, silver gloves flowing on his hands. He stepped around his two late night visitors and gestured again towards the door shaped window, motioning them to go through. K'Chool elbowed Khar in the ribs gently and nodded towards the red-lined gravel path.

  “After you.” Obediently, he stepped through the dimensional magik and found that his shoes were met with the crunching sound of the path. Shortly after, his Sojela princess made a similar noise as she pulled up next to him.

  “How far is it to the site of the fire?” She shouted back through the window.

  Wincing, the old man chastised her for being too loud, before remembering that it was unlikely either of them had seen a glove portal before. The two young Sojela knew the kind of magik that effortlessly transported people from one place to another was a costly kind. They’d heard of the rare gloves, and from the legends, they knew they carried no consequences for their use but any other magik with the same purpose demanded a high price. The magik of the gloves was an old and mythic kind whose secrets had been committed to dust and the wind. No one had been able to recreate their power and so, coveted the items with great fervour.

  “Twelve miles.” Cleric Aitch offered before snapping his fingers curtly. In an instant, the window disappeared from existence with a pop and the last thing either of them saw, was a large grin on a tired face, before more gravel and red was revealed to them. Khar’s shoulders dropped, feeling they had a climb ahead of them and sensing he would be disappointed, they turned to face a half day hike, wondering why the old man had landed them so far from the original library. They looked at each other and smiled before leaning slightly forward and starting the steep climb towards answers. K’Chool didn’t mind the walking, just happy to be moving and Khar managed to find a silver lining to the long trudge up the steep hill. More time with the woman he loved.

  After they found their rhythm, his thoughts turned to their task and what they were hunting for. He was hopeful they would uncover who or what, The Thousand Curses was and how to stop her, wanting to be the ones who would put an end to her plans. He was looking forward to finding out more about Tor and Eve, The Dyad that never was, and what sacrifice they made to stop The Betrayer all those years ago. He was also, secretly imaging they would find out that The Master was a traitor and couldn’t wait to bring him to justice. All with K’Chool at his side.

  “Do you believe The Archive?” He asked as they rounded a corner, a little out of breath.

  “Believe what?” Khar had forgotten that K’Chool wasn’t inside his head and so, needed to give her a little more to work with.

  “What he was saying about The Master.” She paused whilst she thought, stopping to take in the view and consider her words.

  “Yes. I believe that the events The Archive described happened.” She nodded to the open landscape, happy with her answer.

  “But?” Khar often frustrated her with how he could read her. Sometimes she didn’t mind, realising it was part of why they worked so well together. Being so talented a Sojela and having th
e history she had, made her feel very lonely. He never judged her or cared where she was from, who her father was. He just accepted her, so when he asked questions and probed for more, she didn’t mind.

  “I do not believe there has been any deception on The Master’s behalf, like Cleric Aitch wants us to think.” She nodded again, happy with her assessment.

  “Why?” It was her least favourite question, but she knew Khar wouldn’t let this one lie.

  “Cleric Mo told me what happened to Obed when The Reapers first arrived.” Khar was taken aback by this, the use of The Masters first name and her answer completely blindsiding him. He kept quiet though, waiting for K’Chool to continue.

  “The way Cleric Mo describes the Dyad’s Khar. It is poetry. Or the magic that Naïves talk of.” She seemed wistful, imagining the Dyad’s of old. “The grace and power they commanded was the essence of balance. The essence of what we Sojela believe. Since Surelikai herself, no being has ever been able to overcome a true Dyad. Nahgwal and wielder of magik in perfect harmony. Destruction, deception, poise and control all brought together into two beings that act as one.” Khar tried to imagine what it looked like, how it would feel, struggling to find the words or do it justice.

  “It is not just the bodies that work as one either. Minds and spirits share themselves too, merging into each other and finding they are finally complete. Can you imagine Khar? Being that connected to someone?” She looked sad, the wistfulness gone from how she held herself. Khar tried to imagine it, tried to imagine being that close to K’Chool and knew it would never come close to what a Dyad shared. K’Chool knew Khar would be trying to imagine what she had asked him to, so she let him sit with those feelings a little longer.

  “Now, imagine that the person who, literally, completes you, is torn away from you.” K’Chool had turned to face Khar, wanting him to feel the full force of what she was saying. A tear rolled down her cheek and he fully felt her words. He tried to balance what he was hearing from K’Chool with the events that Aitch described, only to find that he was ashamed with how he was thinking about The Master earlier. At the lowest he’d felt in a long time, K’Chool delivered the killing blow.

  “And that person was ripped away from you, because you both, chose that path. You both, made a sacrifice that would end up saving countless lives.”

  “By Surelikai’s hand.” Khar felt like he was being assaulted with emotions. Some his, some hers, mostly empathising with The Master’s.

  “Obed lost his Dyad. The man he loved and shared his soul with was taken from him so that they could save others. I cannot imagine a man like that carries any ill will within him.” Khar couldn’t help but agree and decided to go over to her and hold her close whilst they both thought a little longer about what it would be like to lose someone. They enjoyed the close contact and then parted, their earlier resolve returning as they decided to continue their journey.

  After a couple of hours, they realised why they had been unceremoniously dumped so far from their destination. Thirsty from walking, Khar tried to use common magik to melt some snow. It was a simple spell and after three or four attempts, nothing happened. K'Chool attempted to do the same but met the same results.

  “I have heard of this kind of thing.” She said frustrated. “This whole area must be a void. No magik can be performed whilst we are in its range. I have never heard of one this big though.” Disheartened, she patted Khar on the back lightly, encouraging them both to forge onwards. Soon after not drinking though, they reached the summit of their climb and marvelled at the view. Never-ending green sloped off in all directions with a light dusting of white covering some patches. Deep valleys had dense tree coverage and glinting rivers cut intricate, unyielding paths out to sea. Other mountain tops looked similar to theirs, snow draped across them like blankets.

  At the very top of their own peak, a small stone obelisk stood alone, completely smooth and matte-black, it thrust skywards defiantly. Mocking the elements, it was three-foot-tall by one foot wide, allowing no snow to touch its base, a small moat of green marking its territory. Without thinking, Khar moved up to the plinth and drew some complex symbols on the top of the monument. Green tendrils of light snaked from the sides of the stones and crawled up towards Khar’s hands which were resting on the flat surface. He didn’t feel any fear as they touched his skin, only a knowing peace, and when the odd ribbons of magik had explored what they found, they faded, drifting away with the slight wind that was drawing in around them. The last wisp of luminous green vanished unenthusiastically and Khar stared at where it had just been expectantly. Nothing.

  “Maybe it doesn’t like you.” K'Chool offered shrugging.

  “Watch out!” A voice screamed from behind them.

  Whipping around, both of them adopted a fighting stance, worried they were under attack but all they saw was a man running towards them, outstretched arm pointing at something behind them. They turned to see a circular swirling mass of green and purple light just as they were swept off their feet and sucked into the middle of it.

  * * *

  Khar woke up, face down on a wooden floor, face and mouth partially stuck to it with drool. Sadly for him, this wasn’t the first time he had woken up like this. His body wasn’t working, so to see a blurry figure slowly walking towards him with something in its hand scared him. Defenceless, he blinked his eyes furiously to try and see more. He strained his ears to hear K'Chool, hoping she would save him again like she had that night all those years ago. He tried to smile with the feelings that came with the memory, but his face was alien and numb. Achingly slowly, the figure advanced and Khar realised he wouldn’t be saved this time, the warmth of the memory disappearing with each step of the person walking towards him. His own body was done, and there was no sign of his partner.

  “That looks uncomfortable.” A heavily accented voice said.

  Khar tried to say something witty but his mind wouldn’t help and all that came out of him was a wet, gurgling series of grunts.

  “Let’s sit you up.” The man continued with a thick Chinese accent. Gentle hands maneuvered Khar onto his back and then worked their way under his arms so he could be carefully dragged to the nearest wall, where he could see K'Chool already sitting, head lolling into her chest. “My name is Xiang Shui.” The man patted his own chest, hunched down at eye level with Khar.

  “Khnarf.” Was all he could manage in response to the polite man in front of him, whose eyebrows furrowed before repeating what he thought he heard. Frustrated, Khar concentrated a little harder, focusing on his facial muscles to get the sound right. His alien mouth worked its muscles uncomfortably as it tried to form words.

  “Khaaaar.” He mumbled, pleased with himself. Each second brought back familiarity with his face, giving him more control of his functions as the moments passed. “Where did you come from?” Confidence building as his ability to speak returned.

  “I was visiting my ancestors when I heard you coming, so I hid.”

  “Anschestors?” Khar spluttered, proud of getting the complicated word out even though it sounded strange.

  “The black stone. Our family has worshipped there for generations.” He paused, concern appearing in his eyes. “Never seen it do that though.”

  “Why. Aren’t. You. Paralysed?” Khar managed to say perfectly, although extremely slowly. Shrugging shoulders met his question and he marked it as an anomaly for now, although something felt strange when he looked at the man. There’s too much to find out. This mystery would have to wait. Khar was still disorientated from his numb body, and thoughts lingered just out of reach in his mind, like shadows haunting the edges of a foggy lake. What is going on, he questioned himself as K'Chool sprang to life by his side. Hopping up into an attacking stance that Khar had seen countless times on the training ground, she started moving her hands and whispering to herself. This can’t be good he thought as he recognised what she was doing, horror creeping over him. The last set of movements was about to be completed
when he shouted for her to stop, breaking her rhythm.

  “Why?” She spat out. “This Naïve attacked us and dragged us into this place! The rules are clear Khar, our order has the authority to-”

  “I know what the rules are K'Chool.” Khar said calmly, full control of his speech now returned. “But he was only visiting his ancestors, who by the way, are supposed to reside in that black stone we found.” He looked funny, only his mouth moving and the rest of his body limp.

  “So, what?” Incredulity laced into her words, Khar’s predicament amusing her and taking some of the edge from her voice and intent.

  “And he sat both of us up. Tried to make us comfortable. Not the act of an enemy if you ask me.”

  K'Chool reacted to this with a glare, intent still in her eyes.

  “And he wasn’t paralysed by the magik that brought us here. To the Library.” He said with purpose and meaning.

  K'Chool looked around them and could see the remnants of the library. Scorched earth, burned wood, hollowed out rooms and scattered histories lay about them. She relaxed her stance feeling a little silly for not having noticed where they were. Satisfied that she was calm, Khar then got annoyed at him not being able to move still.

  “Why could you move straight away?” He asked the Sojela.