Dragon Bone

by J. D. Cavalida

  a jacket—no—rolling green hills dotted with daisies—no—a ghost on a ship—no—trees with sun-bright leaves—no—a white van skidding through rain, headlights glaring at two embracing boys, black windshield crunching against bones and flesh—no—horses in the sky—no—quiet cosy house, silver gun on redwood table, a stack of obscure books and Sen, frustrated and tired as he pored over a thick, dusty, and amusingly irrelevant text. Cal tucked in his billion trillion loose atoms and slammed back into his frozen shadow-state lying in the bedroom, wreathed in crawling lines of amber light. Ah. Pins and needles, the final delayed aftershock of pain from twenty minutes ago, then finally nothing special. He'd just woken up. He stretched, rolled his neck, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and trod to the living room.

  "Good morning," he declared.

  Sen started, head snapping up, mouth and forehead creased with worry, blinking as if he couldn't quite believe his own eyes. "Cal?"

  "Yes. Hello again," Cal smiled. He glanced at the clock and abruptly stopped smiling. "Fuck. I've been gone eight hours?"

  Sen surged up from his chair, walked around the table and punched him.

  Cal rubbed his jaw and resisted the urge to shout perfectly justifiable reasons why punching was a completely over-the-top and very unnecessary reaction to seeing someone you saw practically every day. Instead, he held up his palms in a gesture of peace, and said calmly, "It was an emergency. Still is, in fact. I came back to explain some of the rules, then I'm going again. Looks like I was wrong— every minute here is around thirty minutes there. Aw, fuck. I hate breaking promises to Rem. Okay, listen up. I'm—"

  "Rem?" Sen frowned. "That time you kicked me out of the house—"

  "Yes, yes, that was him and that was half an hour, Senty. I can't—"

  "How long were you there? Wherever you were? Shouldn't it be the other way round?"

  "Stop interrupting, god dammit! No, something's fucking with time where I landed. It's skewed. Screwed. Whatever. It's thirty-to-one both ways—by the time I get back a quarter of the day will have passed. And even if I spend just a few hours there, I'll likely lie here for days on end. So listen. I'll look like I'm halfway here or something—don't move me. Not even a poke. It'll translate into some huge motion in my active body. Whatever you did this morning pitched me twelve feet through the air."

  "Your legs were all folded up under you," Sen grumbled sullenly.

  "Thanks, but I won't feel it. Just leave me be. Don't touch the fire either; it's a force field. It's nasty. Be prepared for me to be gone for weeks, maybe even months—I have no idea how long I'll take, or if the time there will stretch again. Maybe I'll be back for dinner tonight; I don't know. If something really bad happens to the wards, hook an emergency rune onto the force field and I'll be able to feed energy back into them. That's all. See you."

  He went to the space beside the fireplace and lay down against the wall; the floor wouldn't

  bounce and move him by accident, and the corner was the most inconspicuous spot in the house he could find on such short notice. Maybe the basement would be better, but he wasn't willing to waste even ten more seconds on going downstairs. He unlocked the already-wobbly threads stitching him together once more. He was starting to feel really uncomfortable now, flying apart like this, but he had no choice. He smiled up at Sen before his vision dimmed out, and didn't hear whatever reply the man gave.

  Flash. Cal tried not to pay attention to the windows this time, too nauseous to focus, afraid that

  his sickness would knock him off-target. Finding the strange lake was difficult; he had only the faint essence of that grass to guide him to the physical place. But the gleaming, crystalline presence of Telum was a solid anchor that blazed against the nothingness of the journey, easy to pinpoint. He followed it and saw a quick succession of not-quite windows before plummeting out—the same lake, but bordered by a mighty kingdom, then ashes, then wildflowers of every hue, then bare dirt, then a forest, then reeds. The lake never changed. Telum had been sleeping inside it for years and years and years.

  This time Cal did fall over, scraping his hands and knees on rough bark as he materialised by one of the trees on the shore. He leaned back with a grimace, rubbing his skinned palms.

  The field was empty. The water was still. Wrong time frame. Fuck. Fuck.

  But before he could swear out loud and punch the tree in frustration, the most peculiar feeling of being in three places at once stopped him short. He squinted into the hazy air as the sky tilted and dizziness swam across his thoughts. A cloud of fire appeared on the opposite shore, and Cal watched the him from the immediate past leap out of it, disoriented and dazed. He swore quietly, retreated into the cover of the trees, sat down and waited.

  He watched himself straighten up and run towards where Rem was just appearing. Making sure

  he stayed hidden, Cal inched to the water and touched it. Telum, standing on the far shore, turned its head towards him and away again. A strand of energy curled around his hand, silent acknowledgement.

  "Mind telling me who put you here?" he murmured.

  It matters not, Telum said. Cal jumped but didn't pull away, tolerating the invasive voice as best as he could.

  "Okay. Okay…why, then? Why were you here all this time, sleeping, instead of helping Rem earlier? Why wait until he's almost dead?"

  Telum considered his questions, the mirrors of its vast consciousness turned inwards. At length, it replied, Not almost dead, Calidrius.

  "What?"

  He must die in order to be reborn.

  Cal closed his eyes tiredly. "Did Vyraan make you?"

  No.

  "Then you can't fucking do that."

  I must. And you must also assist me. He is the one you and I must help.

  "I know! I will!" he said. He forced his voice down. "You're asking for something I won't and

  can't do. Nor can you. Remaking is not part of my skill set—only two creatures in the whole damned universe has that kind of power, as far as I'm concerned. So could you please just—think of something else?"

  It is what we are here for. His rebirth.

  "Well, I'm not going to contribute anything to that," Cal declared. "It's wrong, and if I gave a fuck about the law, I'd say it's highly illegal too. I don't know why you think you have the right or power, but—"

  I will feed him my strength as he hovers on the brink of the Finality. At one point he will cross over briefly, but my powers will keep him from sinking. You must stay by his side at all times and remind him of who he is, the life he is living, and what he strives to be. All the good things worth holding on to. Do not let him forget. Otherwise his spirit will be lost forever, and it will all be for naught. But if we succeed, the sickness that is plaguing his heart will finally be washed away, and we will have wiped his slate completely clean.

  "That's absurd," Cal argued bluntly. "It can't be done. How do I keep him from dying just by holding his hand and telling him it's all going to be fine?"

  This is the only way, Telum said gently. Nothing else will erase the scars and wounds upon his soul. Nothing but death, the last conqueror, the taker and keeper of all things. You know this, Calidrius. Rem has been dying for a long time. Let us make it easy for him, and give him another chance.

  Cal sighed and thumped his head back against the tree. "When you put it like that, you sound awfully like you've done this before. You're good at finding loopholes, at least."

  Yes, Telum answered, and Cal wasn't entirely sure what it meant.

  "Who made you?"

  No reply. The light in the water eddied about to its own currents.

  "If you answer me, I'll do it."

  Not Vyraan.

  "Yes, you said so already," Cal said, frustrated. Then he paused, an idea crossing his mind. "Fuck. Did I make you?"

  No.

  "Oh. Good. Then who else would—"

  The distracting, somehow divided feeling in his chest disappeared again, and Cal breathed a sigh of relief
as he watched the figure by the lake vanish with a bright shimmer, leaving Rem alone. A strand of energy nudged his palm. Help him, Calidrius, Telum said.

  "Why can't you tell me?"

  It is a delicate matter. You may find out in time. Or you may not. Help him.

  Cal stood up, resigned. He shook the water of the strange lake from his fingers and slowly walked back to Rem. The boy was pacing forward apprehensively, but his eyes were hungry and desperate. He stepped into the water and stared at Telum, wrapping his arms around himself like he was cold. Telum looked back impassively. Rem said something too soft to hear. Telum nodded.

  "Hey," Cal said, stepping out of the underbrush.

  Rem turned and smiled slightly. He seemed very pale under the sunlight, the blood on his robe darkening as it dried. "That was fast."

  "Yeah. How're you feeling?"

  "Not…not strong enough for this."

  "I know. Come over here, Rem."

  "No."

  Cal frowned. "What?"

  "No—no, stop!" Rem yelled, stumbling back, falling over two steps later. It was then that Cal noticed the rivulets of darkness leaking into the lake, streaming from Rem's skin like ink. Rem lifted his body feebly, trying to leave the water, eyes wide and panicked. "Cal, help me—"

  "Don't struggle," Cal said, splashing in beside him. He knelt in the ankle-deep water and put his arm around Rem, sitting him up. The darkness washing out of him made Cal's skin numb. He held Rem, watching carefully as the boy's eyes dimmed. "Okay, Rem. Can you hear me? Do you understand me?"

  "Wh-what's happening?" Rem gasped, gaze wandering to the ink being sucked into Telum's bright core. "It—it's killing me. That thing."

  "No it's not. We're helping you. Listen—you need to focus. Think back to the past. Before all this. Back to when the world was simpler. Can you do that?"

  The ink was flowing fast. Rem trembled in his arms, coughing and squirming. "The p-past? I…it's all so long ago."

  "Yes, I know it's hard. But please. Try. Do you remember Agaris? Those mountains, and

  that castle…that beautiful castle. And Wivan Cove, with the seagulls and the bark-dragons? And Flure, the Impossible Islands—and Rain Town, where we could hide and pretend—"

  "Flure," Rem murmured. "Angry, broken place. 'Wings are curses and the sky is selfish.' Maybe it's different now." He laughed humourlessly, staring at nothing. "I think it first touched me there. The thing inside me. All this leaking out."

  "No, don't go there," Cal said quickly. "That's the stuff you're leaving behind and not taking with you to your glorious next life—Rem, stop thinking about it. You can't give it an excuse to stay—"

  "But it's all I am," Rem said. His voice was thin and quiet now. "Cal, it's all I've been feeling for years and years, eating me from the inside…it's like all those other memories aren't mine anymore. All I am now is this disease creeping over me—"

  "Stop it," Cal hissed, fear sharpening his voice. "If you can remember the past then fucking remember it. Don't touch the present. Don't touch it at all."

  "What about Snow?" Rem said weakly. "I can't leave him. He's the reason I'm doing this. I made him but something went wrong and it hurt but in the end it was all worth it. I'd die for him, I'm dying for him right now, so how—how can I just forget him, Cal? He's what I want to live for, and he came because of this cancer, and I don't care as long as I get to be with him."

  "Stop the melodrama and just do as you're told, Rem, please," Cal implored, gripping Rem's limp hand tighter. "Just this once. Listen to me. If you come back sick then what's the fucking point? You'll just die all over again, and how do you think Snow will feel about that?"

  "I'd rather be sick than forget him entirely." Rem took a shuddering breath and coughed harshly. "Why can't I just have Telum? I'll get better if I swallow all that energy…."

  "You won't," Cal said bluntly, very aware of how little time they had left. He glanced at the water. It was finally starting to turn clear again. Telum still stood and watched them, its form only marginally dimmer after absorbing so much of the strange, icy substance. "Rem—"

  "I wanted Vyraan here," Rem whispered, hiding his face in Cal's shirt. "I called for him, but then you came. It's not that I don't like you, but Vyraan's less…he doesn't burn me like you do. Where is he?"

  Cal felt his throat constrict suddenly, and it was hard to speak or breathe for a moment. He remembered that night in the cell, the terror and desperation that had half-blinded him, the last wisps of warmth evaporating from his bloodstained hands, leaving the whole place black and cold.

  "…Dead," he said, because there was no point in hiding it. It was the truth, plain and honest. "What?" Rem turned his head to stare up at him, eyes wide and horrified. "No, he can't be—"

  "He is. I was there. And you know what? The same thing's going to happen to you if you don't do this right. You'll die, and I'll have to watch it happen. Don't make me go through that again, Rem. I'm begging you. You don't know what it's like, but I can't handle a second round of kneeling there being completely fucking useless and just watching. I just can't, okay? So please, do this for me." He kissed Rem's white knuckles and closed his eyes. "Please."

  Rem's hand uncurled and touched his face softly. "What happened?"

  "He…" Cal exhaled and bowed his head. "I'll tell you some other time."

  "Okay."

  Cal looked at him warily. "Okay?"

  "I'll do it for you. Because you asked." He seemed to want to say more, but stayed silent for a while. "Think of the past?"

  "Yes. Before Flure, before you got hurt. When everything was simpler."

  Rem swallowed with difficulty. "The world was never easy, Cal. Not for us."

  "I didn't say easier. I said simpler. When we were all still together, and none of us hated anybody's guts. When none of us were fucking dead. It was simpler."

  Rem gazed at him for a long time, his eyes sorrowful. "Cal…."

  "What is it?" The last shreds of blackness rushed into Telum and disappeared. Now, bright strands of light began to inch out towards them, questing around Rem.

  The boy closed his eyes, two tears rolling down his face. "I might end up hating you."

  "I don't care," Cal said. He did, of course, a great deal. The thought was unbearable, but the thought of Rem gone forever was far worse.

  "You're a terrible liar," Rem said, voice almost inaudible. Light floated around him like a cocoon. The creature called Telum began to steadily dissolve, watery limbs splashing back into the lake as the light holding them up left. "I'd still love you. That will never change. But you made me choose between you and the most important person in my life. I might hate you for that. And who knows, it might drive me insane again. But I'll stop thinking about it now."

  Cal didn't know what to say. His heart beat painfully against his chest. In the end, he repeated, "I don't care, Rem. Just get better. We'll sort out the rest afterwards."

  "One last thing," Rem whispered. "It was Lilea. She followed me here. I fought her, and I killed her."

  "The Laughing Widow?" Cal said, stunned.

  "Yes. It took a lot out of me. So…" Rem raised a hand weakly to indicate his surroundings. "She said something. 'The Szikatr rises. I have been freed.'"

  Cal paused, gathering his emotions, and thumbed away a tear on Rem's cheek. "Thank you for telling me, Rem. It's over now." He bent and kissed Rem on the forehead. "Think about Devyn's house."

  Slowly, the light waned again, each thread-thin wisp flattening against Rem's skin and disappearing to allow for the next. He smiled as if it tickled. "I'm there already. It's spring, the hills are turning green, and the first bees have come out for the tiny wildflowers. Somebody's made hot chocolate. We're all standing outside, all five of us, saying goodbye to the snow. It's melting away." Rem sighed, eyelids fluttering, and finally his face relaxed into contentedness. "I won't come back," he murmured.

  The light was gone. Cal watched as Rem breathed in, out. For a few seconds he lo
oked peacefully asleep. Then he stopped moving. Cal's hands tightened instinctively, ready to shake him, speak to him. Do something.

  Telum's voice spoke in his head. Let go.

  He obeyed. Forced his arms to loosen. He laid Rem down gently in the shallow water, resting his head on the smooth grey pebbles. Cal stepped away, stepped out of the lake. He spent a while just standing there staring at Rem, watching his hair and robe drift in the water, his pale body framed against the pebbles in almost picturesque beauty. Like some frail, otherworldly doll finally abandoned by its owners, but still special enough to warrant such a lovely resting place. He supposed the metaphor was somewhat accurate. Except Rem was more than a doll, and his death was a far-fetched idea even to the few who knew him. Nobody would go around planning funerals for him. For any of them.