Broken Earth

by C M Blackwood

  Grumbling as she went (no doubt about being roused from her slumber), Rafeda shuffled back out of the house. Hasee complained of being hungry; so Ohmená took her up in the chair beside him, and set a plate before her.

  When all of them had eaten their fill, Lila began to wonder at Aponé’s absence. So she made an inquiry to the Chief.

  “I hardly ever know where that daughter of mine is. Perhaps she is sleeping; or perhaps she is swimming across the deep waters of Anhala-nan. Either way, you will see her by morning.”

  Had Lila not known for a fact that he was not, she would have thought that the Chief was only teasing her. She had once seen Aponé with her own eyes, swimming alone over a league into the sea. She remained there for some time, so long that Lila went to Ohmená for fear that she had drowned. But he only laughed at her panic, and assured her that his daughter did such things quite often.

  “She loves to swim. I ask her, ‘Aponé, why do you go so far? Do you find humour in giving me these pains of the heart?’ Of course, she only proves me right, by laughing at my worry.”

  After he told her this, Lila went back to the shore to await Aponé’s return. It was some time later when she did; and then, shaking the water of the sea from her hair, she said:

  “In a little while, I will go for my walk. Today I will climb to the top of Sanga. Will you come with me?”

  Lila had only stared, thinking of the high peak and ledgeless walls of Sanga, and wondering whether her friend had finally gone mad. She had always showed signs of it; but now it seemed without doubt.

  “I think not,” she had answered.

  Aponé had only laughed. Her laugh was ever loud and wild, and served only to cause Lila to further question her sanity. And yet after all these years, sane or no, Lila had come to appreciate the brilliance of the mind; even when its workings were somewhat other than those with which she was accustomed.

  Presently, though Lila was disappointed not to have seen her friend, her exhaustion forced her to retire. Hasee led her by the hand to the spare room at the back of the house, in which she always slept upon visiting.

  Lila lay down immediately upon the warm, soft bed, and wrapped herself in its thick pelts. The first time she slept upon them (when she was eight years old, and had come to Húnama with her mother) she found it difficult to fall asleep; for she could not banish from her mind the images of the creatures which her blankets used to be.

  Now she only tried not to think about it.

  ~

  When she woke the next day (seemingly in the afternoon), the first thing she saw was bright sunlight, streaming in through the tri-angular window in the wall to her left. It seemed that everything in Húnama (even the doors) were of that same, three-angled shape. The angles of some things, such as the windows, were all turned different ways, so that you could never guess which way they would face; but when it came to the doors, the base of the tri-angle lay ever to the left, and served as the hinge; where the topmost angle, served as the spot of the door knob. These doors resembled, in a way, a sort of wooden flag.

  Whenever Lila returned home from a visit to the Wónakee, she looked upon the rectangular doors of the castle with a frown, thinking them much less interesting.

  She sat up and wiped the sleep from her eyes, looking back to the window with a haze upon her vision. She had slumbered deeply, but did not feel rested. Her eyes still were hot; and her hands still were cold.

  Looking suddenly to the right, she was startled almost to the point of screaming. Aponé was sitting in a chair beside the bed, and was smiling at Lila’s momentary shock.

  “I did not get to see you last night,” she said. “So I decided to wait here until you woke.”

  “You don’t fool me, Mané,” said Lila, addressing Aponé by her childhood nickname. She had been Mané; and Lila had been Dagen. Brown and white, they meant. The first time he saw them playing together, Ohmená had relegated the Gei-ánen words to the two children. Never before had he seen a white child play with a brown child, and he was at first greatly amused by it.

  Presently, Aponé only cocked her head to the side, pretending not to know what was meant.

  “You only wanted to frighten me,” said Lila.

  Aponé laughed. “Perhaps,” she said. “But I would never admit it.”

  “Quite rightly.”

  Now that Lila was awake, Aponé jumped onto the bed to sit beside her. She looked at Lila, and asked, “What brings you here, Dagen? It cannot be only for a visit; for times are too dark to allow it.”

  “I heard from Kahmen that your city’s peace has been compromised,” said Lila. “So it is with mine; so it is everywhere.”

  Aponé said nothing, but listened intently.

  “The Sorceress has taken my brother,” said Lila, “and my mother grows sicker by the day. I am desperate to find Antony; but I fear that I do not have enough Power to do so. Only my mother had so much. And she has told me, only recently, the reason for her illness. She gave her own Power to me – so that it might be doubled, in a sense. But I fear that it has not worked. I will never be as strong as she was.”

  She said all this very quickly, and had to pause to regain her breath. She hoped that Aponé would say something in the space betwixt; but it seemed that she only waited for more.

  “I have run out of time,” Lila went on. “Even if my Power can grow, this is not the moment for its cultivation. Yet I will be brief and direct, for I know that is what you prefer. I have come to you for help, Mané, with two things: the capture of a Lumarian, and the replacing of my mother’s Power.”

  Aponé seemed neither surprised nor confused at either point. Yet she was silent, as was her custom in subjects of great gravity, for a long while.

  “You hope that a Lumarian can tell you the whereabouts of your brother,” she said finally. “This is logical; but it is not practical. Do you think that one in the thrall of the Sorceress would risk his life to help you? He would not, because nothing you could do to him would compare in any way to what she could do. They take pride in their own powers; but they fear hers more.”

  “I appreciate your opinion,” said Lila honestly, “but let me make myself clear to you. I came to you only for help; and whether or not you have any for me, I will go on with what I have planned. If you have no advice for me, I suppose I should go.”

  She made to get out of the bed, but Aponé reached out to take hold of her arm. “Wait, Dagen,” she said. “You are too hasty. You do not wait for me to finish.”

  And with a firm look, she directed Lila to take up her place once more. “I have seen much in recent days,” she said. “I have watched as the Sorceress deceived your brother; and then as he faded from my sight. A Talkon such as I has no ability to see through his captor’s shields.”

  “You knew already what happened?” asked Lila. But she was silenced by Aponé’s raised hand.

  “I have seen the ones you keep at your castle, of whom you know not as much as you should. Even on your way to me, the one who was missing appeared at Eredor. Her means of coming, however, kept her arrival an unknown event. She did not mean for it to be so,” she added quickly, at a look of alarm from Lila. “She has no reason, and no desire, to deceive you – or anyone else, for that matter. She does not even know who you are. But she is caught by a deadly force, and with only her presence, your home is in grave danger.”

  She paused for a moment, and closed her eyes. Lila was familiar with that expression; and knew that she was searching for something, something she had lost in the clutter of her mind. “She has come for the woman with the yellow hair,” she continued.

  “Heidi Bastian?”

  “I cannot see her name. But I can see her face; and I can see the one with the hair of red. She is with the other, and both are unaware of their danger.”

  “Hair of red?” asked Lila. “I don’t know –”

  “She is the one who has come,” said Aponé. “Her task was specific, but it has been abandoned. It was the sam
e as yours. Now she is in a place of darkness – though for the moment she can see only light. But the darkness will return.”

  Lila could only stare. She tried to make sense of it, but should truth be told, she had hardly an idea of what Aponé was saying.

  “You are talking riddles,” she said. “Can you not be clearer?”

  “It is all clear enough. You simply do not know all you should.”

  “Then tell me what you know.”

  “I have already told you.”

  Lila sighed. “Please, Aponé – no puzzles today. If it were any other, I would play along, same as always. But I haven’t the strength.”

  “I play at nothing,” said Aponé. “I cannot see all. I tell you all I know.”

  “But how can it help me, if even you do not understand it?”

  Aponé shook her head. “It may not help you now. But when you have learnt all you can, and the time has come – then perhaps you will see. Be patient for now.”

  “I have no time for patience,” said Lila through gritted teeth. “If my brother dies, the guilt lies at my feet. I could not live, Mané.”

  Aponé took her hand, and looked with deep sympathy into her eyes. “Everything happens as it will,” she said. “No matter what you do, it will end as it should. You are brave, Dagen; brave as any warrior. I see great and terrible things move towards us. All is in motion; and we cannot but sit and wait.” She pressed Lila’s hand. “Now come – and we will eat. The stomach that growls distracts the mind.”

  ~

  After they had eaten a light breakfast, Lila went with Aponé on a walk through the city. They passed many people, all of whom smiled and waved as they went by. Lila raised her hand in return; but her mind was preoccupied.

  “So far,” she said, “you have told me only what to expect from the Lumaria. My question to you, however, has to do with the means of their capture. If I could but find a way to keep them from shifting – then perhaps I could bring one to Eredor. I know that it can be done, for my father did it once.”

  “There are ways,” said Aponé. “I know of at least one that would suit your end. But I will not tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “The goal, should it even be realised, does not compare to the danger. You could die, Dagen.”

  “I have already been warned of this by my mother,” said Lila. “I do not care.”

  “You should care more,” said Aponé sharply. “If you die in this foolish task, you will not be there to do what is meant of you. Your brother will surely die, because you will not be there to save him. You feel guilt for what happened to him; and you try only to cover that feeling, with a senseless task which you know will not succeed.”

  “I love you dearly, Aponé,” said Lila. “You are a great friend to me – but you speak out of turn.”

  “Do I?” said Aponé, looking absently into the sun-filled sky. Bright snow lay all about, and sparkled in the light of morning.

  “Perhaps not,” admitted Lila. “I apologise for my manners. I only cannot seem to find myself today.”

  Aponé nodded. “I do know the feeling. But all you must do, in times such as these, is remember what you wish to gain; and think of ways in which to do it. You will soon recall what you are here for, and why you forgot in the first place.”

  Lila took a moment to mull over the sense of those words; and then remembered the second point she had addressed, earlier that morning.

  “All of this Power does not belong in me,” she said. “I am not strong enough to master it. I wish to give it back to my mother – but I know not how.”

  Aponé looked into her face. “You doubt yourself, Dagen. But you should not. You are strong, stronger than many. You have already mastered your Power. You need only reach for it – and it will come to you.”

  “How can you know that?”

  Aponé stopped in the middle of the road, and turned to face Lila. She closed her eyes, and held out her hands to touch Lila’s face. “I can feel it,” she said softly, moving her hands to rest on Lila’s shoulders. “It is great; and it burns inside you. The fire is lit, but you cannot see the flame. On purpose, you hold your hands in front of your eyes.”

  “I do not.”

  Aponé opened her eyes. “You do, Dagen. Only look closely, and you will see.”

  They began on their way back down the road. “And yet how would I do so,” said Lila, “if I did decide to return my mother’s gift?”

  “I will not tell you that, either.”

  “I supposed that you wouldn’t.”

  ~

  Though she knew that she should return to Eredor, Lila could not help but remain for a few hours more with Aponé. They went to the shore and sat beside the sea, looking out at the diamonds which the sunlight cast upon the water. There were no waves, and the water was remarkably still.

  “This is the lesson,” said Apóne, staring into the sea with a fierce love in her eyes. “Even in chaos, we must find this place of peace. As the storm rages before us, we must remember Anhala-nan when it was calm – and we will find what peace we need.” She looked to Lila. “To find your Power, you must first be at peace. The soul that tosses confuses the hands. Without your hands to direct it, the Power cannot leave you.”

  Lila looked to the beauty of the sea; and wished, for only a moment, that she could live her beside it.

  “I do wish you would come with me,” she said to Aponé. “If you are not there, how will I know what to do?”

  Aponé shook her head. “No, Dagen – I cannot come with you. My place is here, with my people.”

  Lila looked away. “I understand.”

  “Be not disheartened, my Dagen!” said Aponé. “I will be here when you need me.”

  And then they rose from the sand, and embraced one another. They walked together back to the house of the Chief; and Lila bid him goodbye, with a kiss on the cheek, and a sad smile passed betwixt.

  Mounted back upon Sonya outside that tri-angled door, she looked once more at the small group that watched her depart. Ohmená looked upon her with eyes somewhat downcast, and his thoughts were clear. In these days of darkness, would they ever see one another again?

  Hasee waved slowly, thinking not of the future, but of the present in which Lila was leaving. It saddened her; and her expression attested to the fact. A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and she turned to hide her face in her sister’s skirts.

  Aponé was the only one who smiled. She watched Lila, and understood her misery – but she did not share it. Her face was full of hope, and her eyes shone brighter than the sun over the roof. She nodded once to Lila, and sent her a kiss through the air, over the palm of her hand. Lila felt it fall lightly upon her cheek, and could not help but smile. She waved once more, and then turned to the road which wound out of the city. The time she had spent with Aponé served as something of a newfound consciousness; and she could see now past what lay before her, to the task beyond.

  Aponé had been right enough. Her desire to capture a Lumarian had been only a want for the filling of her time – something which would occupy the spaces where grief had throbbed.

  So now she led Sonya from the city, meditating on the road ahead; but wondering all the while if she would ever again ride the road to Húnama.

  XXVII: A Show of Sickness

  After she had talked for some time with Heidi, Jade went to meet with Dera, who was surprised (yet undeniably pleased) at her coming. She sat long with Heidi and Jade; and they talked of what had so far come to pass, and the tragedies that had befallen them. This latter part consisted mainly of Josephine, for Jade was still in doubt (and perhaps denial) of what she herself had already suffered.

  Though they spoke into the late hours of the night, Dera eventually began to yawn, and banished her friends from the room so that she might answer the call of sleep. By then, the sun had already begun to peek through the window; and when Heidi and Jade returned to the chamber adjacent Dera’s, they found it full of a bright an
d beautiful light. Yet tired as they were, they drew the curtains against it, and lay down upon the bed. Heidi rested her head on Jade’s shoulder; and sounded, indeed, as if she had already fallen asleep; and so made Jade start when she said:

  “Might I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” said Jade, taking hold of her hand beneath the blanket.

  “How did you get into the castle?”

  Jade started to speak; but was immediately forced to close her mouth, as she realised that she knew not how to answer. Memories of past days came flooding back, with the full force of truth. She did not remember approaching a gate, or asking for admittance. She only remembered running – and then arriving at the door to Heidi’s chamber.

  She inhaled sharply, and squeezed Heidi’s hand.

  “Jade?” said Heidi, looking quickly up into her face. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” said Jade. “Nothing at all.”

  “Did I say something?”

  “No, Heidi,” she said; a little too loudly. Heidi moved away just a bit, looking somewhat alarmed. And so she realised her mistake, and said:

  “Oh, Heidi – I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me. Please?”

  She felt a searing pain in her stomach; and the image of a mutilated deer came all of a sudden into her mind; followed by a pale hand which held a piece of dripping

  flesh . . .

  “Oh, no,” she moaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, no. No, no, no . . .”

  She could feel Heidi’s hand upon her own, working at her fingers to pry her hands away from her face.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Jade. Tell me . . .”

  But Jade could not answer. The pain in her stomach was too hot, too persistent; and she could only lie there, moaning with the unbearable sensation. It was more than a nightmare, more than her imagination . . .