by Kevin Gordon
once you start, you can’t very well stop. I know you felt her warmth next to you, knew she wanted it so badly. And in your mind, you thought of the two of you together. Even now, the thought torments you! I see it in your mind, you cannot deny it!”
Arciss sighed. “Silence, Graid.”
“What?!”
“I said be silent. Don’t speak until you have something of worth to say. Don’t cast unless you have conceived of a constructive thought.”
Graid clenched his fists, as the power built inside him.
“Clearly your creation of that roving band of whores you call the Trint-Averil has deluded you. Don’t test me Arciss, or we will have another remembrance ceremony, this time for you!”
“Graid,” spoke Arciss slowly, holding up a calming hand, “there was a time that your threats would have frightened me. Thinking back on it, I don’t know why. It wasn’t the pain that frightened me, the anticipation of some force ripping my body apart. I believe now it was the threat of your denying me the rest of my life. I think I was cowardly, willing to beg, for the right to live a life in fear. No more, Graid. I have awoken to my life, and have lived. I have found unity within myself; attained a solace you are very far from. Graid, soumans have lived with threat of death since time immemorial. They have died in ways too numerous to count. Who am I to fear death? If that is all you can threaten me with, then your power is meaningless to me.”
Graid’s hands glowed as night swept down upon them. Arciss reached over, and held Graid’s shoulder.
“Graid, I didn’t mean to insult you. I am sorry. But you have come to a time in your life when you must find a new path to follow. Something is wonderfully different about this timeline, giving us the opportunity to explore different facets about ourselves. This was not an accident. It was meant for us to do this, meant for you to do this. Come, Graid, and walk with me.”
The power in Graid’s hands faded away, his shoulders sagged, and a sadness tinged with doubt crept over his face. They walked for a while in silence through the fog, down narrow paths leading behind massive buildings. Graid’s eyes were cast down, his mind in a sea of chaos. Arciss walked slowly, glancing every now and again at Graid, watching the emotions play over his face.
“I’m . . . I’m scared,” said Graid softly.
“Why are you scared?”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Truth about oneself seldom is appreciated from another’s mouth.”
“I’m scared of letting down my guard, Arciss!” he cried, desperately. “Of trusting you.”
“And I’m scared of accepting your trust, Graid.”
“You don’t seem to be frightened.”
“Yet I am,” he said, stopping for a moment. “I never forget the immense responsibility I have as your Steward. But we will make no progress if we exist behind titles. I am Arciss, and you are Graid. And that is all that matters.”
They walked out of the grounds of his residence, back onto the main streets of Piros, the moon hanging low in the sky. The closed storefronts kindled memories within Graid, of rushing out after training and lessons, trying to get some special treat before they closed for the roa. He remembered begging for them to stay open a while longer. He chuckled to himself.
Me, the Kal-Alçon, begging!
A cool breeze ran through those streets, and Graid breathed deeply of it. He thought back to that simpler time, before he ventured to Novan, before he was fully aware of all that was expected of him.
“It’s wonderful being back on Rell,” Graid said, feeling more relaxed.
“It is indeed.”
“Do you know what is was like when I first emerged?”
“No,” said Arciss, motioning Graid to a bench nearby. They sat, and Graid leaned back, looking at the sky.
“I was four cas old. For the first four cas of my life, I had no human contact. I didn’t even see anyone else. I was in a white void, in which food and water would appear at times. I was mentally educated, seeing only words and numbers on the screen of my mind. Then, that light dimmed, and plastic-gloved hands grabbed mine, and pulled me forward. There were so many people there! There must have been only a few dozen, but to me, it was a sea of masked faces, dressed all in white. The one person held me in the air, to the gasps of those around. He still held me by my wrists. He set me down on a platform set higher than them, cold and smooth. As he set me down, my knees buckled, as I had not stood before. Another grabbed my knees, and held them in place, and I understood what to do. Both of them released me, and very shakily, I stood there. Those around me muttered some words, in retrospect, probably ‘Kal-Alçon,’ and knelt before me. That was my emergence; that was my birth. No one embraced me, no one smiled at me. I saw no one’s lips, only dozens of pairs of eyes, seemingly expressionless behind those masks. Arciss, it was then I knew I had no connection with anyone, that I was not one of them. All the training afterward reinforced that.”
Graid stopped, feeling the emotion well inside him.
“I only wanted to be held,” said Graid, his voice heavy. “To be kissed on the cheek by someone, to have my hand held by another souman hand! I know I must build some connection with my people, but how? How?”
Arciss watched this man weep before him, and for a moment, knew not what to do. Then understanding settled in his thoughts, and he embraced Graid, as a friend, as a brother. Graid held onto Arciss, for the first time resting his head on another, for the first time drawing strength from another. Arciss knelt before him.
“Graid, you must sort through some things before we talk again. There is still much hatred in your soul. I am returning to Rellcine. Come to my suite there, when you are ready.”
“You are leaving me?” asked Graid pleadingly. “After this?”
Arciss nodded, a firm expression on his face. “One roa, you’ll understand.”
Graid watched him walk away, his heart choked with emotion, his eyes growing blurry under the tears.
Graid returned to Novan, but found he could not stay in Rellcine. He stumbled along the streets on Core in a daze thinking on his short conversation with Arciss.
Who are they to create me? A man with no Kal, a son with no mother. An Alçon with no faith. Hatred? Yes, I guess there is some of that in me. Hatred of a people too weak to defend themselves. Hatred of a people too faithful to build a bridge to the sinful. Hatred of their arrogance, their pride! Hatred they could conceive me, and expect me to solve all their problems.
He wandered aimlessly through the streets in an old section of Core. The twenty block segment was one of five spread throughout the planet that had been preserved for eight millennia. Constantly restored and repaired, house under a massive protective dome, it remained as a reminder of what was. Always Iggaraouts were the centers of those ancient oases, symbols of enduring faith. Graid paused in front of a support column for the enclosing dome—a massively thick structure. It reached a mile into the sky, and with three others created an impregnable shield around this oasis.
This is who I am—pure technology. A creation of the new to protect the old. This city is useless—a figment of a past no longer needed.
Words cast to him before surfaced in his mind.
^You will fade, Graid.^
I remember your words Rhonva. Graid could still see his face before he destroyed him, seeming for a moment to look into Graid’s soul, look through the veils of time. Maybe I will fade into the fabric of time, wiped away by forces beyond my comprehension.
Graid gazed high into a sky grey with the ills of pollution, feeling a weight he had never felt before. He stood, motionless, with the wind buffeting his back. He leaned slightly into it, and concentrated.
Do I really belong here, with all of them? Am I the best of them?
He allowed his mind to relax and disconnect from his body. Often he would do this, when none were around. Ever since his encounter with Odre in the Castiliad, he used this technique as a form of relaxation, a way of test
ing the limits of his power.
I can feel every gust of wind on this ancient world that is and that has been. I can feel every leaf lift and be blown, every single insect struggle against her strength.
A warm glow radiated from his skin. His flowing robes billowed as they were pushed from his form and blown by the wind. He clasped his hands behind him, and gazed up into the sky. His mind relaxed further.
Ahh! Now I can feel every current, every stream on every platform above us! I can feel every pebble and rock moved by every rush of water on my homeworld. I can feel every algae, every fish, every animal forage for food and live and die.
His body glowed with energy, as his robes appeared as fire around him. He rose slowly into the air, his small form at once opaque, then transparent, the colors of his clothes blending into the landscape behind him. As his consciousness expanded outwards, his body faded into the void.
I feel every being on this planet—their laughter! Such joy, such excitement! I thrill to the mother as she sees her child walk for the first time; I smile as a man’s son goes out with friends, the subtle joys! The small pleasures! Oh—and I feel the sorrow, the emptiness, the pain! Why must we live this way, slaves to our thoughts?
Graid’s mind went beyond the confines of Rell and Novan, beyond the planetary orbits of the Iquitian system. His mind raced through the totality of the cosmos, past planets and moons, past stars. He passed the Envoy ships that
