by K M McGuire
“Have a little faith, it’ll work,” Voden said, not knowing why he said anything. She closed her eyes, blood still pumping out around her fingers. Voden heard her whispering to herself, her lips hardly moved, and he could not understand, but over and over she seemed to repeat herself, as though she were calling out to the world for help. But nothing seemed to happen.
“Come, on,” Blossum muttered, putting her hand under Andar’s head, propping him. “Don’t leave me now, Andar. That won’t be fair!” Her eyes turned to liquid, and she began stroking his hair, her hand still pressed against his chest. “I-I can’t get the energy to listen, Andar! We need you to stay with us a bit, just a little bit longer!” He gave her no response. “Voden, come help me! You must know what he means!”
“I haven’t a clue,” he stammered, but he placed his hand with hers, and the blood trickled across his skin.
“I don’t know what else to do!” she said. “Great Beyond, I will pull every ounce of energy from this lake if it means he will live!” Her hands began to glow, the lacerations lighting up with her hands, seeming to meld the two together. Tangible sparks of energy drifted from all around them, swirling in slow, mesmerizing circles, and they fell into Andar’s wound.
The light faded, and Blossum removed her hands. Voden looked around, but nothing seemed to have changed. Odd. The arcane always consumed from around them, but there was not even a discolored stem or branch nearby. He thought perhaps it had not worked and looked at the deep scars glowing red on Andar’s chest, slowly fading to a raw yellow. Andar opened his eyes. He gave them both a weak smile.
“Thank you,” he muttered, and relief caused Voden to nearly fall backwards. Andar sat up, rubbing his chest gingery. His face curled with relief, and he smiled at Blossum.
"I'm glad it worked," she said, breathing heavily.
Blossum's guard finally collected themselves and gathered around them, chattering excitedly, now casting questions at Blossum, giving her little time to respond. But something else had now taken Voden’s attention. His eyes trailed away from the group, where he saw the cube, having grown since Blossum had spit it out to nearly the size of his fist. Wisps of black pooled out of the top polygon and quickly rolled off its edges, falling to the ground, seeping through the snow and into the earth. He ignored the chatter of the group, as if the cube had whisked away coherency of sound. He was now fully transfixed by the gleam left on its cockeyed surface where a soft pink shape inside the purple, smoky, and thick as milk, spun inside. He felt it somehow stared. How could he resist the voice it did not have?
He felt his hand touch the surface (how had he gotten here so quickly?), as painful flashes of images and visions threw his mind around, as though he had fallen into a river’s rapids, smacking against them as though they were rocks. The Zemilia flickered in and out of view with its roots whipping out towards him, he was very sure of that, but something spiraled behind the memories, something that looked as though the worlds were melting and collapsing in on one another.
The gelatinous globe that was being created spun forever, as pieces of things—including the memories—fell victim to the churning orb of slag. In the yellowed flares of fire expelling from the chaos, he thought he saw faces, perhaps of those he knew, many whose jaws were racked open, gnashing from some grievous affliction and melted down into dark jars. The flames and compressing sphere fell away from him, and with a gasp of astonishment, he realized it had become an eye, stuck in some being’s face that was too shattered and broken to make heads or tails of it, but the pieces began to collect an image together of some face—
Voden felt himself fall against the hard ground, Andar jerking the cube from out of his hand and throwing it to the ground. The polygons flared in a violent rage of blue, and with a mighty yell, Andar smashed his sword against it, breaking the cube in half. It hissed and boiled like an eel searching for water, and moments before it turned to mist and shadow, the octahedron that had filled the center was only emptiness, not the solid as it pretended to be from the outside. The space moved just as it had moments ago, its facets shifting from one half to the other, before it slipped silently to a strand of vapor, which fell down through the earth.
“There is nothing good that comes from those,” Andar said, staring at the melted snow, as if waiting for it to return. Voden struggled to catch his breath, his hand feeling unnervingly cold. Blossum and her guard stood behind Andar, staring at Voden with concern. Discomfort stroked his shoulders the more he realized he had lost track of much while he held the cube.
“W-what happened?” Voden asked, standing with shaky legs, “All I could see was…visions of a burning eye. I…I don’t know…”
“You were convulsing,” Blossum said. “As soon as you touched it, the cube gleamed pink, and you began to shake.”
Voden shuddered as he stared at what he thought was a vagrant wisp of the black smoke still lingering where the box once sat. The thought of it made the eye surface in his head, and the way it stared made his heart shudder, knowing that the face behind it knew more than he. “Then, I’m glad it’s destroyed.”
∞ ∞ ∞
“Come on, Voden! Look at all these girls! Surely, you could dance with one of them!” Ralus laughed, splashing his drink against Voden’s shirt.
Voden scowled at him, nearly offended that he had brought it up after rejecting it so many times. “I’d rather not,” he said.
Ralus laughed, amused at the response, pounding his palm against Voden’s back. “What would the harm be? Your lady isn’t here! Besides, you look as though you could use some excitement. A smile to get your heart in the right state! It’s a celebration of life after all!”
“Why don’t you, Ralus?” Voden replied, more heatedly than he intended. “You seem to have eyes for it. Why bother to make it worse by being a liar to your desires?”
Ralus gave him a scornful look and gulped his beer, foam popping across his face. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, smacking the mug down resolutely. He stood and rushed into the throng of dancing, joining the meld of bodies taken by the music.
The party had gone on much of the day. Blossum convinced the boys to stay, though it didn’t really take that much effort. The sun rose not long after the events of the evening, and at that time, she arranged for the feast to be prepared, sending the whispers through the encampment. The settlement filled almost immediately with the buzz of excitement, and by noon the next day, everyone had come together, bringing all the elements of the festivities with them. It was now late in the evening. Voden felt rather cranky from the lack of sleep over the past few days, missing Yael and the unfinished business between them, and being bombarded with so many people. It was exhausting, but he had tried his best to put on an endearing face even though he craved solitude.
A few of the people had decided they were worthy of gifts, most of which was food for their journey back home, and Voden felt too humble to accept the horses presented to them, but Blossum assured them it would be best to take the gifts. He looked down the table, where he saw many individuals he’d been introduced to, but through the excitement, he had completely forgotten who they were.
“So, you think it right to risk these people for your revenge against the Zemilia?”
Voden turned his attention to his right, listening to Andar speak with Blossum over the sound of the thumping music shaking the snow from the trees. Blossum, now dressed in a beautiful gown, with hair knotted together in golden vines around her head, considered his question. “What else would I do? I don’t believe I could manage an attack on the grove myself, and they are my people.”
“A leader does not have to claim people as their property,” Andar said kindly, cutting into his meal. He took a bite before continuing. “All a leader must do is push forward to something better, always under the people a leader should stand. If the people do not have a foundation to plant their roots into, any and all things will take them out to sea, where they have no place to grow.”
> “Surely, you realize that would be ideal, but it never happens that way,” Blossum shook her head. Voden could tell she was fascinated with Andar. Her eyes could not fall away from him, watching each nuance of his lips as he explained himself. He hated to make assumptions, but he believed she saw him as something more than a friend.
“I would see it in two ways,” Andar responded.
He looked out over the crowd, now wildly swirling around the bonfire. Some of the children joined in the dance. Mothers held the hands of the little ones, passing them off to one another while their families laughed and beamed at the beauty and marvel of childhood.
“The earth is strengthened by the roots of trees and plants. It is firm to walk across, enough so to build a home in and on it. Yet, it is easy enough to break into. It falls apart in your hand, but binds together, serving the purpose it was meant for. It holds the bounties of life so they can be enriched. In a sense, the one who leads the tree to the sun is the strength of the soil. Likewise, the base of a mountain holds the pinnacle of the peak. The peak is the heaviest burden to uphold, but the grandest and smallest. They are like the children that dance around the fire. You cannot deny the divinity that comes out of them, like the sun rising through the mist of clouds, taking your breath at the hope the horizon expands to. The base of the mountain hardly gets to have the view that comes with the peak, but without the base, there would be nothing to hold it up to the heavens. The peak cannot support the weight of everything else, it is meant to see and explain the glory of the mountain. The base knows the greater of love, until the peaks remind themselves what gave them the chance to go further.”
“How are you so wise?”
“I cannot take credit for what I was made to be. I just listen and strive to be conscious of the choice to obey the truth. I don’t know, Blossum, I feel much of what I say is ramblings to people. I think the truth, as a whole, is too hard for us to handle. But I don’t care how much it hurts, in the end, the search will be worth it, because from there, there is growth.”
“Well, don’t let anyone stop your search. There is beauty in you. I’ll be waiting for more of your answers.” Blossum sipped her wine, eyes sparkling with only Andar inside. She stroked his neck and smiled. “I think I want to dance,” she said, and as she rose, she grabbed Andar’s wrist. He opened his mouth, as if to say something in response, but she interrupted his thought. “Let the ‘Will’ take you away from the stiffness of yourself, Andar! Let yourself be as free as the words you speak!” With a beaming smile, he allowed her to drag him off into the crowd, where the people began to roar with applause, watching the two engage with one another.
Andar was clumsy, Blossum laughing at his attempts, but he had not lost courage. Slowly the grim fear that tightened his limbs began to realize the course of the music. The turbulence shifted his arms and influenced his legs. His body embraced it with the help of Blossum. Her face became warm with cheer burning along her cheeks. They nearly became a single entity with one another, their rhythm now entwined with the melody. For a moment, Voden thought he could see Blossum’s feelings spawn in her face, as she bit her lip a moment, spinning in close to him, where their embrace lingered, close to taking a step further. And as the tension reached a peak of going that single step further, the music settled, changing rhythm, leaving them breathing heavily as they came back to themselves. They stared at each other, caught in confusion and wonder, as though they both saw a horizon in the same moment, pondering if they could reach out towards it again. But now the entertainment had ushered everyone back to their seats, and they sat next to one another. They ignored the fire jugglers, spawning their globes, or the magicians telling interesting tales with incredible tricks Voden had not seen before, finding their discussion with one another more valuable. The crowd clapped kindly as the magician’s finished their story, but all Voden heard was Blossum’s voice saying, “I hardly think this will go well. I will have to rethink much if I decide to step down.”
“I don’t have a good answer,” Andar said quietly, clapping with everyone else, “but if it is the right thing to do, aren’t they worth it to do so?”
Blossum scanned his face, her eyes reading into his honesty. She pressed her lips together and stood as the claps settled. “Thank you, everyone!” she called to the crowd. The silence came at the first syllable she spoke, with hardly the sound of the fires to distract from her presence. “You all have been loyal to me since before your ancestors, and I am now finding myself in a place of pure gratitude! You all deserve much more than I have given, which has led me to wonder where we all shall go from here.” She looked across the faces of the assembly, their attention riveted to her, holding nothing but adoration. She made an awkward laugh and continued. “I have come to some conclusions as of late, having thought of the bondage I have found myself in over these many centuries, and with a fresh perspective, I cannot bear to do the same to you.” Their expressions flashed to shock, rippling through the crowd in vibrant murmurs. Now, Blossum’s face flushed at the whispers. Andar nodded at her, and she continued. “I say this because I realize now, that as a leader, I have taken my rule as an accolade to myself, and that is no longer my intention. I will no longer be your queen.”
The murmurs stopped a moment, as the scouts and guards began exchanging looks with one another. A fearful slur began to rise throughout the crowd, but Blossum raised her hands to silence them. “I do not mean to upset any of you, but I cannot force you to follow the path I must go on now!”
Suddenly, one of the soldiers made their way towards the front, standing before the table. It was Jali’tez. “I have served you my whole life,” he said, his voice trembling as he held his spear.
“I know,” she said softly, “but I have my own way to go, and I should not weigh a tribe of people for my own means.”
“And I will go where you go!” Jali’tez cried, slamming the tip of his spear into the earth. “No matter what you title yourself as, I am for your cause, even if you have changed from my queen to friend! Further, it proves how worthy you are to follow! And be there ends of the earth, I will take your lead to those points!” As he said this, a few more warriors joined him, and repeated his action, kneeling before Blossum. More and more people followed their lead, until finally, nearly everyone was pledging their loyalty to her, and even Andar had pushed his chair back, looking up at her.
“We are always on the edge of the earth,” Blossum replied, and she turned an eye to Andar. “Even more so the closer we come to what is right. Thank you. Then those who are willing, we have much to prepare!”
∞ ∞ ∞
A few days later, the commotion finally settled. The days ran rather quickly after Blossum made her announcement, and Andar and Voden found themselves caught in the fervor, nearly forgetting that they had a city themselves to save. Voden had a fleeting suspicion Andar was stalling more than he should have, and he decided to not make much of it, knowing he would have done the same if it were with Yael. But the day came when they needed to part ways with Blossum.
“Then this is it,” Blossum said, as the boys mounted their horses. “I have no way to thank you,” she said. “Except for what you came for.” She waved Jali’tez over. In his hands, he carried the vial Blossum had kept with her for so many years, that brilliant blue crystal containing everything that brought them here. Inside, in the glistening sparkle of the glass, it seemed, finally, everything was now coming together. She gently took it from him and gave it to Andar. Awe kept him from placing it in his bag for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said with the smallest voice Voden had heard him use. He handed it over to Voden and took Blossum in his arms. She held onto him, squeezing him a bit longer than perhaps she intended. She looked up at him, biting her lip, as if in thought. “There will always be a home for you with me.”
“I know.”
“Andar, there are many who are not who they say they are. I hope you can trust the right people. Come back to me when this is done
! I’m hoping things turn out better for us all.”
She gave Andar a gentle kiss on the cheek and pulled away. Her eyes were sad, not wanting him to go. Voden watched the sad expression struggle to turn to a smile. For a moment, something seemed to click in Voden’s head, as if he had heard those words from somewhere else. But where? He squinted, his face struggling to remember, but nothing came. He saw the confusion in Andar’s eyes as well as they both situated themselves on their mounts. With a final goodbye, they waved to Blossum and her guard, and the horses trotted off, Blossum returning the wave, her face filled with melancholy.
They were rolled cascades of incandescent clarity; like beads of glass, clinging to fragile swords that were weary of the weight it could not support. Yet, the beads pressed on, wondering how far they could inch across the inverted peaks, peering into the depths of the unknown. One would find its way to the precipice and stare vacantly, almost hypnotically into the blurry expanse set beneath them, and awe filled their hearts. But tragedy would soon be the wolf behind the sheep, and the wind would breath against the transparent vagabond, and they, the beads, would lose their grip, doomed to fall from their home. Lamentations clicked like panes of glass, chattering among the capsized spikes. Brother and sister crying in gelid pain, their sibling drifted further to the void they prayed not to meet. For the ones who fell, perhaps the cry was caught up in their lungs, brief enough that if you could hold the silence, the separation would tear like thunder. Perhaps that same noise met its echo when it reached the end of the void…
A splatter against Voden’s nose brought his perception careening back to his frigid reality. He paused a moment, wondering how far his thoughts had drifted so deeply into the beauty of the icicles hanging from the trees. He gave the icicles one last glance, hanging along green needles and spindly branches as though some wintery maid had loftily thrown glassy wind chimes among the trees. The brown horse he rode gave a disgruntled whinny, cantering through the crunching mounds of dissolving snow. The air was static, having become almost a stronghold against sound, and the snow swaddled the earth in kind. The day still held beauty, pouring beaming rays that pierced through the branches and needles, refracting through the frozen barbs.
