The Great Beyond- the Vile Fate

by K M McGuire

  “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to Yael. “How do you do it? I don’t know if I would have gone on this adventure if I didn’t have Andar.”

  “I used to travel with my father,” she said. “It just became a bit much for both of us, what with trying to keep the shop alive while we traveled. It cost too much. It became easier for me to go alone.”

  “It’s just you and your dad?” Voden asked.

  She nodded quietly. “Yeah.” She looked off to the distance blocked by the canopy of trees. “My mother passed when I was young.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Voden responded somberly. “I honestly don’t know how hard that must be.”

  “Nothing for you to be sorry about,” said Yael. “It was long ago. There are always scars and reminders that sting, and time does not honor memories.” She shook her head. “You just can’t allow for anything to make you its slave. It drives the kindest person insane.”

  “You’re probably right,” Voden agreed. He watched a family marching blissfully towards them, heading towards Barisko, where he imagined they lived happily. “I just,” Voden started, losing the voice for his words. “I don’t know. Things are so different out here than in Adetia.”

  “Adetia?” she asked, face scrunched in confusion. Voden nodded, mirroring her confusion at her sudden reaction. “No, you must be joking!”

  “It’s true!” Voden exclaimed defensively.

  “Easy!” she laughed, accidently pulling the reins, jerking the horses and caravan. Voden glanced again through the window where Andar had almost fallen off his stool, his face flustered. Vec now flopped to his side without breaking his snore. “I’ve heard of that city, but I never thought I would meet someone who actually came from there. There’s a lot of fear surrounding that place.”

  “How do you mean?” asked Voden, trying to tame his bubbling emotions. “We aren’t perfect by any means, but we shouldn’t be feared! We were supposed to help, and maybe we just lost sight of that.”

  “I’m not making any claim about your city or your people,” Yael argued. “It’s just the rumors I’ve heard. I meant it more to let you know to be careful with what you tell people. Many people are scared of a place that has remained mostly quiet for so long. To most, a silence only means a storm is on the horizon. It’s more that we are left to the fantasies of thought than conclusions of answers. You can imagine why they would create the strangest theories.”

  “I’m sorry,” Voden said bashfully. “Just being out here, outside the place I’ve called home, my world has flipped so much. I feel I’m in a constant state of vertigo, as if the sky and earth switched. I feel I’m falling in the canopy of the endless blue.”

  “Maybe falling into the sky can help you see the world more fully for what it is. You’re too close to it now to understand how narrow your perspective used to be.” Her voice was so warm and comforting at that moment, her lips twitched lightly into a smile. Voden understood the moment from her subtleties.

  A thought slipped into Voden’s head. He couldn’t avoid asking, though part of him wished it were possible. “People don’t give you much credit, do they?”

  It was now her turn to fall quiet. She gazed off along the road, pretending to adjust the horses. Voden bit his lip, musing over his thoughts, unsure of the swelling that grew with the silence. “I don’t want to sound full of myself,” Yael began quietly, pausing a moment. She did not speak as though she were to cry, though her voice hinted at notes of gloom. “It’s sort of hard to ask for it, isn’t it? I mean, it’s kind of like respect. Anytime a person demands it, people reject them for demanding something earned. It makes it difficult to have confidence though. At times, it feels wrong to validate myself, but we crave it nonetheless.”

  “I think I understand what you mean,” Voden replied. “It would be nice to have people more like you.”

  “Flattery is not your strong suit.” She chortled, though her eyes told him she appreciated his words.

  “Fair enough.” Voden chuckled in response. He allowed for the laughter to catch the cool breeze. Voden took the moment to reflect, marveling at the steepled green plumage of the trees, speckled with monochromatic emerald scales that umbrellaed over the vein-like timbers. It was like looking at lungs that breathed so differently than his, but the shimmering of light made him believe they were the same. The light penetrated through the foliage, and in the beam that tore through spun a single green leaf, gently drifting to the ground, like a speck of ash that had its fill of the sky.

  “Tell me about Septium,” Voden said, finding Yael to be a better distraction than nature.

  “It's like no other city,” Yael said, her eyes filled with excitement. “I could try and describe it, but I just think it will do it no justice.”

  Voden shrugged. “It's worth a shot,” he said.

  “Well, to start, we live inside the trees of the forest.”

  “In the trees?” Voden interrupted.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “It's not like we built houses in the canopies, though. The Tasmian settled there and enchanted the forest, you know, placing wards around the perimeter, which drew the energy from the land, and those formed the structures inside the actual trees. It hollows them out.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Voden uttered breathlessly. “How does that work…wards, I mean?”

  “Well, there are several laws to the arcane." She paused a moment and encourage the horses closer to the side of the road, allowing more space for another wagon to pass by. “It's a balance of cost, really. That’s the easiest way to break it down.” She snapped her fingers, which ignited a flame from the air, and it danced around the tips. She gave it a strange look that Voden didn’t quite understand, but she suddenly waved her hand, and the flowery spark vanished back to nothing.

  Voden jumped. It was almost as though the sudden energy taking the form of flame had forced his reaction. He felt it had reached out and grabbed him.

  “The law breaks down each possible reaction and applies a cost to the source drawing out the energy. Some forms are so costly, a person can't actually manifest certain functions properly without understanding the second law, dealing with the absorption of energy from a person’s surroundings.”

  “I’ve heard of something like that,” Voden mumbled “We were always taught that this form was called Syphon.”

  “That's a derogatory term for it,” Yael replied. “I prefer the term ‘Arcane Distribution’. AD is a more common term. There are also several methods for storing energy and drawing on that potential. Our city was created with wards or ‘Arcane Pylons.’”

  “How does that work?”

  She shifted in her seat, thinking of a response. “It depends on the user, really. The most effective method is to store energy in crystals. To create the city, they used these crystal pylons scattered throughout, and then they used the trees themselves to draw the energy needed to convert them into living structures.”

  “That must have taken a long time,” Voden said thoughtfully.

  “If you have a source large enough, its much faster than you would expect.”

  “Then what was yours?”

  “It’s the Eternal Tree. Its size and energy output are massive. The old civilization found when they decided to alter the Eternal Tree, that it had almost a limitless amount of energy, which most think is granted by the Zemilia. It was after many of these mystical revelations that Septium became the home for the arcane in the western world.”

  “That seems almost impossible,” said Voden, wishing to see rather than imagine Septium. Maybe the rest of the world wasn't as horrifying as he had thought. Perhaps it was just as wonderful as Adetia, shaped different than what he was used to. The idea excited him. A yearning within him grew, a desire to search the world for all that he now believed he had missed out on, sheltered away under the dome of Adetia. “You must have had a wise teacher for you to care about the history as well as the art.”

  “Yes,” Yael said sadly. “My mother.�
� She became quiet. “My father would be upset if he knew I still practiced AD.” She smiled dully at Voden and shook her head. “There isn't much I have to remember her. I don't think he understands I want to honor her memory. She always told me the core of everything is divine. It's finding the good in things that bring it out.”

  “Why is he so opposed to you practicing Sy- I mean AD?” he asked. He felt her father was being rather priggish, but he dared not voice his thought. Voden was uneasy with magic himself, having the foundation of that sentiment pounded into his head such that he believed it as the depths of evil. Perhaps her father shared the thought or was just being protective.

  “He doesn't want me to go down the path my mother went,” she said. Her hair drifted in the breeze in fibrous waves. She stole no glances at Voden, eye fixed firmly on the road. “He always said it was her undoing, but I struggle to believe that.” She let out a bitter laugh. Through the sheen of tears, she looked deeply into Voden’s eyes. “He never explained much. He always shook his head and said, ‘the higher up the ladder you go, the darker the secrets become.’”

  “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Voden stammered. “It mustn’t be easy for you.”

  “No, its fine.” She sighed heavily, returning to her usual composure. “You were only curious. I chose my path either way.” The caravan thudded along the road as they passed a weary signpost, pointing towards a forking trail. Voden looked up at the green plumes of foliage split by a crackling blue sky, strewn with whimsical flicks of ivory beams that feathered the edges of the shadows. The wagon thundered along one of the forks, the sign now legible, reading Mesten, which he decided must be another town tucked away in the woods. “I’m glad you sat with me,” Yael finally said, comforting herself and finding assurance in Voden.

  “You asked me to,” Voden responded, smiling.

  “I know,” she said happily. “It doesn’t change how I feel. It kind of makes it better. I figured you would be pleasant for me, and you were someone I could relate to. I think I was right.”

  “You are.” Voden couldn’t help looking at her in that moment. He was swept away by thoughts that drifted off the dark graceful strands of her hair. He didn’t understand why, but his mind made him think of each strand as though they were people. Some twisted together, while others danced alone, still others were attached together, only fraying at the tips. He finally leaned back on the bench, as it squeaked softly from his weight. It was a lovely day. He yawned as the previous night finally caught up with him, now that the excitement of the morning had calmed. He stole one more look at her, one for his dreams, before his eyelids lowered, and he drifted off to sleep.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The caravan rumbled to a gritty halt, shaking Voden fully awake as the exhausted sigh of the horses percolated air out of their nostrils. Voden was shocked at how long he had slept, the sky now seeping washes of bloody vermillion, encroaching on the expanse of blue. Weary clouds of cherry speckled the sky as the dormant breath of night whispered a cooling yawn. Yael jumped down from the bench and tucked herself for a moment under the platform, where she heaved bags of oats and attached them to the horses’ bridles. They began to crunch away thankfully.

  “I slept that long?” Voden yawned, stretching his arms.

  “I figured it best not to disturb you,” Yael said, stroking one of the horse’s manes. Voden climbed down, as the caravan door flew open. Vec stood in the doorframe looking around, confusion spinning within his alert eyes.

  “Why are we stopping here?” he asked, shuffling down the steps. “We couldn't find a decent inn?”

  “I prefer not to go to towns,” Yael said, having made her way to the back of the caravan. She pulled open the back and shuffled around inside, muttering to herself as Andar appeared from behind the door.

  He stood silent, glancing at Voden, eyes somber, but he turned away before looking elsewhere. Yael had found a path that led to a small clearing close enough to the river to hear, its quiet song soothed the summer’s heat. Yael returned, carrying some timbers which she stacked neatly on the ground. Once she was satisfied by the arrangement, she leaned over it. Voden felt a slight tingle shiver through his skin. She snapped her fingers, and a fork of fire poured from her palm, igniting the wood, cheering happily as it gnawed away at the timber.

  “Well,” she said, bringing herself to her feet, “I expect you're all hungry.”

  “Ravenous,” Vec blurted, marching resolutely towards the fire.

  “Alright,” Yael said. “I’ll have to find some rations. Oh! We'll need some seats!” She staggered a bit as she turned back around.

  She took a heavy breath and rubbed her hands together, looking around the fire. Finally, seeming sure of herself, she slapped her hands against the ground. The earth pulsed, rumbling with unnatural fervor, as though strange creatures frantically scattered beneath the crust, and it burst open to thick roots that erupted through the dirt, casting speckles of dry clay at Voden and his friends. The roots mingled with one another, twining in a strange dance just above the surface of the earth. They seemed to know how to move, wrapping their smaller ivory tendrils around the larger ones, the air oxidizing the damp growths, drenched in the smells of deep earth. They wove into a plane, stitching together for a distance, before violently arching back into the ground, vagrant strings of hairy shoots dangling from the bottom of the newly formed bench, still shifting from the upheaval. The dirt ended its paroxysm, settling to listen to the monologue gurgled by the fire.

  “Haven't seen that before,” Vec mumbled almost fearfully.

  “That was more potent than I intended.” Yael sighed and walked back to the caravan.

  Voden stared at the new bench, pressing his hands against the damp seat. He looked down and saw the grass surrounding the roots had become brown, drooping like brittle ribbons, and the decay spread out to the closest tree. It crept up the trunk, crumbling the bark to an ash, exposing the wood underneath, now void of life. The bark finally stopped peeling away about waist high, and the atrophy reached no further. It was then he noticed a vibration stop in his pocket. He was surprised he had not noticed the gentle twitching before. He stuck his hand inside. His fingers met the hard edge of the red cube. He pulled his hand away like it had bit him, but as the moment slipped further into memory, he felt he had imagined the sensation.

  Yael gave him a curious look, as though a thought manifested when he touched the cube, but when she caught Voden’s eye, she turned back to the caravan, rummaging around hastily. She returned with vegetables, not minding the blighted ground, and beckoned them to sit on the bench.

  Andar's eyes darkened as he sat, unwilling to speak. Voden joined him, but Vec shook his head. “You sure it's safe to sit?” he asked. He shuddered like it was about to creep up his back.

  “It'll be fine,” Yael said, shoving the vegetables on a stick. “It won't go anywhere unless I make it.”

  “Well, I know not to piss you off,” Vec responded gruffly, sitting cautiously next to Andar. Yael handed them each a vegetable kabob. “So,” he said, staring at the arrangement of vegetables, “no meat?”

  Andar nudged him quickly, pursing his lips.

  Yael shook her head. “Nope. There’s hardly enough to sell and make a profit, let alone eat.” she said, holding her vegetables over the fire. They sizzled and moaned, the liquid wishing to escape the ensnaring skin of the vegetables. “Besides, there are enough of these to keep us going.”

  “To hunger is to contemplate death,” Vec muttered, turning the vegetables in the fire. “To eat is to kill. All roads lead to justification, yet no man knows well enough on how to justify himself.”

  “My mother always told me it is easier to judge what fills the heart than to find reasons for the mind,” Yael responded, shaking the heat off the browned vegetables. She blew on them a bit before she ate. The night thickened quickly, joined by the swells of frogs moaning for love and the chirps of bugs humming in lackadaisical harmonies. The evening
slipped further into the ultraviolet, where the cascade of stars dumped out across the sky. The giant who drew the dark blanket over the world had knocked over their drink of burnished stars, soaking the darkness with stains of light.

  It was hardly noticed until Yael yawned loudly, stretching her arms as if to greet the sky. “Merciful heavens!” she exclaimed, smiling at her new friends. “It’s late; I need to rest.”

  “You’re right,” Vec said, patting his cloak. He smacked along it until he found a bulging drinking skin, and with one vigorous swoop, he pulled the stopper and took a mighty swig. He wiped his lips and stood up. “Back to sleep then!”

  “No,” Yael said firmly, placing her hand against his chest. “That’s my room. Why don’t you keep watch for the evening, since you’ve already rested?”

  Vec stared at her hard, pressing his grim jaws together. He sighed and sat back down.

  “Good night.”

  “Thanks again,” Andar said curtly. She nodded in acknowledgement and gave Voden a sweet smile.

  “Sit with me in the morning?” she placed her hand against his chest.

  He could feel the tick of his heart knock against her hand, willing it to be closer. His words halted in his throat, unable to force an answer. He chose to nod. Her lips curled again, and then after a second, she entered the caravan. He wished for the moment to linger, hoping for something more. He found his bag in the back of the caravan and pulled out his sleeping gear. These nights held the cold at bay for him, allowing him to stare off into the expanse that knew no depth. To what dimension did it end? He heard Vec trying to make amends with Andar, though what exactly they spoke of, Voden gave little attention to. He unfurled his roll and laid down, gazing through the trees.

  The sky was a scroll where the words and parchment reversed so that he could not read it. Littered with secrets, astral boxes waiting to be opened, but his hands and mind did not hold the key. He tried to make sense of it, though he knew deep down it would never be answered, no matter the knowledge he gained through his travels. From the bottom to the top, he saw a rift that returned no echo, falling to a distance he would never solve. Was he even at the bottom? Perhaps everything was glued to the top, and if one refused whatever was Beyond, it would be shaken off into the void.