Spirit Speaker

I opened the door to the count's office. 

Rowan stood as I entered. "The colour's returned to her cheeks, Master. And her breathing settled just before you entered."

He didn't mention the goddess behind me. 

"He's not a believer." The Weaver explained. "Very few Academy graduates are."

"Thank you, Rowan. Can you do me a favour? I want you to watch over the princess and Miss Rita. There's something wrong in this place, and I want them safe."

Rowan opened his mouth to comment, saw my face, and swallowed. "Yes, Master."

He left. 

"What's happening here?" The goddess asked, looking around cautiously. "This place is faint, I can barely feel it on the weave." 

"Shadows. Bad shadows. They took the Count."

I went to the corner of the room, where the spirit prisons lay, closed tightly. 

"This is the one we found in the Academy," I said, picking it up, and putting it carefully on the Count's desk. 

"This one was found in the library here in Corel, recently. Within the week at least."

I put it on the desk beside the first. 

"That's…troubling." She looked at the desk, her brows furrowed. "That one's eating its way out too. The spirit prison is eroding."

"I'm going to drop them down a mineshaft," I said, walking back to Rena. I sat down heavily in the chair and checked her carefully. 

"She's going to be fine, Lukas, there's nothing wrong with her, except for that horrific burn on her side, but you've treated it correctly. It'll heal perfectly, I'll make sure of that." She walked behind me and put her arms around me. 

"You're exhausted, Lukas. When did you last sleep in a bed?" She put her head beside mine. 

I leaned into her. "It's been a few days, but I don't have time to rest. I need to find the Count."

She tsked under her breath. 

"Come with me Lukas, you're no good to anyone like this. Give me your hand and I'll take you to a place you can rest."

Her voice was warm, and kind, and gentle. And I was tired, exhausted and above all else frightened. So very very frightened. 

I accepted her invitation. 

And I was in her room. 

No trap door, no shimmering. Just one moment in the Count's office, and the next in a sunset-lit, comfortably furnished room.

It was cluttered, lived in, the predominant colours warm and pleasant reds, and whites and purples. 

The room was longer than it was wide, which gave it a faint sense of familiar intimacy. On the far side of the room was a bed, large, and soft. I felt a massive wave of fatigue hit me. 

The Weaver looked at me anxiously. "Come. lie down. I'll see if I can remember where the kitchen is in this place." 

I collapsed on the bed and watched her leave the room before sleep completely overtook me. 

*

I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke, the Weaver was sitting on the bed next to me, and I was resting my head in her lap. 

Her eyes were golden, deep, and filled with concern.

My heart skipped a beat. 

"How long was I out?" I asked, trying to get up. 

She grabbed my shoulder firmly and held me down. 

"A few hours, though that would be mere minutes in your world." She brushed the hair from my eyes. "You're pushing yourself too hard, my dear friend."

I shook my head. "No," her name falling freely from my lips. "I'm afraid I'm not doing enough. I thought I'd managed to do something to stop the world from ending, just something small. I was wrong."

There was that same half smile. 

She opened her mouth to reply before she looked up sharply. 

"Don't move." She said, her voice low, irritated. 

She walked to the door and opened it. She then leaned against the doorframe. 

"What?" She greeted the visitor curtly.

"There's been a development, sister." a voice, male, strong, wise.

"Then bring it up when the others are present. Why have you come to bother me?"

"Because I know he's in there."

The Weaver went quiet. 

"You've been watching me." She said, her voice tight with barely controlled fury. 

"You left me no choice, Verinah. You've hidden him on the weave so completely that only the Spirit King knows where he is, and the old man wouldn't tell me."

"You know very well the reason why I did that." She replied. 

"You can't hide him from the beast forever, he's your favoured now, and that makes him a target. Besides you were foolish to think you could hide him from me when you brought him here."

"You forget yourself, Seeker. You are in my domain."

"I haven't come to fight, sister." The voice was tired. "I need to speak with him. I've found something I don't understand. I was hoping he could shed some light on it."

There was silence. 

"Relax, sister, put your fangs away, I won't try to steal him from you. You've hidden him too well."

"And I'll continue to do so. I will not let you or any of the others have him. He's mine."

"Your obstinance is one of the reasons you've fallen so far, Fatemother." The Seeker sighed, "Will you let me see him?"

I rolled off the bed. I staggered my way to the door, where the Weaver was standing. 

She heard me coming. 

"It seems I have little choice." She said. She turned to me. "Lukas, you should have stayed put."

I nodded. "I know, but the world is filled with stories of the Seeker and his tenacity. He won't stop until you relent, or he'll follow when you return me to my world."

A chuckle. "He's right, sister."

I stepped behind the Weaver and looked over her head.

The room beyond the doorway was vast and filled with stars. The Seeker stood in front of me, a white disk beneath his feet.

He was taller than me, with piercing, crystal blue eyes. He was old. Not weak, not frail, but old in a way that an oak is old, or a mountain is old or the world. Strong, immovable, venerable. 

He had a long white beard. He wore green, close-fitting robes that ended just above his boots. He leaned on a tall, gnarled wooden staff.

"Terat, the first focus," Ilargia murmured in my mind. 

I felt his eyes on me. I stared back. Despite his considerable presence, I felt no desire to worship this being, nor any desire to know him. 

The Seeker raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you not bow, mortal? In the presence of deity?"

I shook my head. "I don't. There's one god I owe my devotion to, and it isn't you, Seeker."

He stepped forward. I saw the Weaver stiffen. 

"Easy, sister. I'm not going to hurt him." 

I put my hand on the Weaver's arm. "Please, goddess, it's alright."

I felt the muscles beneath her skin soften and relax, and she stepped aside. 

The Seeker took another step forward. "Twisted Weave." A chair appeared behind him. A throne. He sat and studied me for a moment. 

"It's good to see you. I would have greeted you earlier, if not for my sister. She has kept your presence hidden on the Weave. Only the Spirit King could see where you were, and he wasn't telling."

"You've found me, Seeker. How can I help?"

The Seeker frowned for a second. "It's true, you really are unaffected by my presence. I thought my sister was exaggerating when she told us."

I shrugged. "I've seen the end of the world, Seeker. There's very little that can shake me."

"I see that. That makes this easier then. Twisted Weave, what's been happening in your kingdom has been happening all over the world. People all over the planet are finding something that the gods can't see."

"Books?"

"Mostly, though I'm certain there's other things this darkness can appear as. The books at least, are distributed in libraries and private collections all over the world. I can't confirm of course, and neither can any of the others. Something has hidden them even from me."

"That's not good." I said, the blood draining from my face. 

"That's not the worst of it, Twisted Weave. These things are being found and being used. 

He waved his hand, and a window appeared in the space beside him. "Come, look."

I looked down at the endless abyss that was between me and the god. 

The Weaver laughed. "It's okay Lukas. This is my home. Nothing short of another god will be able to hurt you here."

I stepped into the void. My foot hit solid ground, a white disk appearing beneath my feet. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

"You didn't believe me?" 

I grinned. "Let's just say it was a trial of my faith. I still took a step didn't I?"

The Weaver hummed, and that same half-smile flashed across her face. I walked to where the Seeker was sitting patiently. 

"Look." 

A library, one I didn't recognise. A young man, no older than the princess, was browsing the shelves. 

He stopped at an empty spot, reached out and pulled the book from its place. 

He opened it. 

And was engulfed in shadow. 

Then the shadow receded. The book vanished from his hands, and the boy resumed his browsing. 

There was nothing behind his eyes. 

"How did you see this?" The Weaver asked, appearing next to me. "I couldn't even sense the library at the Academy."

"My eyes are a little more trained than yours, sister. My domain is truth and secrets after all. Before today I thought there was nothing I couldn't see, or find, or know."

"Who is he?" I asked. "The one that read the book."

"A prince. He was eleventh in line to the throne. Within two days of finding that book, every single one of his siblings disappeared, and his parents died in their sleep. He's now on the throne, and gearing up for war."

The image ended. 

"Things like this are happening everywhere. Civil wars, fratricide, just murder and death and misery wherever one of these books is found. And with every death, whatever it is that ended the world last time, grows stronger."

"The Rending." I said, slowly. "The spirits call it the Rending."

The Seeker shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's got something to do with those books."

He waved his hand again, and the image in the mirror changed. "This is what I wanted to talk to you about. It took me weeks to find this, they're hidden by darkness, and even now I can barely make anything out. Just shadows. Tell me, Lukas. What do you see?"

I looked into the mirror and saw a group of dark cloaked figures, standing in a circle. 

One of the hooded individuals stood and walked up to a stage. 

"How many have been found?"

"We've brought another six, dark one." A hooded figure stood up and deposited six black books on the floor in front of the speaker. 

"And the ascendants?"

Three bound, struggling people were dragged into the middle of the room. 

"Rejoice, children." The man said, stepping down from the stage and crouching in front of one of them. He looked into her eyes. 

"You've been chosen for something greater than you could possibly imagine." 

The woman glared at the speaker, her eyes filled with hatred. 

He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her closer to the pile of books. 

He dropped her, bent down, and picked one up. 

"Hold her still."

Shadows erupted from the ground and held her in place.

She shut her eyes. 

"Open them." 

The shadows forced her eyes open. 

The hooded speaker raised the book to her eyes and opened it. 

And the woman was engulfed in shadow. 

Once the shadow had dissipated, the speaker took her by the hand. "Welcome to the Abyss, sister."

She stepped back into the group of other cloaked figures. 

The speaker picked up another book. 

"Next."

The image ended again.

I told the Seeker exactly what I saw, and he sighed. 

"It's as I feared. You mortals will do anything for power."

"Master Pilak said something similar."

"He hasn't changed then. What do you know about this group?"

I shrugged. "From what I can tell, they're collecting books, and forcing others to read them. I would imagine those captives are nobles? People with considerable influence at least."

"Let me see. I can't read the mirror, but maybe I can read your memories."

I felt the Weaver's hand behind me gripping my shirt tightly.

"It's okay, sister. I won't harm him." The Seeker stood up, walked over to me, and grabbed both of my shoulders. 

"Look into my eyes, Lukas."

And I did so. 

It was different from when the Weaver did it. Hers was gentle, soft, warm. 

The Seekers was cold, clinical, surgical. It made me feel violated. 

I gritted my teeth and stared deep into his eyes, past his pupil, to his weave, which stretched far into eternity. 

And I was forced out, violently. 

But not before I saw something. 

"You dare?" The Seeker said, his eyes flashing with anger. 

I maintained my stare. 

"I dare." And I said his name. 

His face paled. His eyes widened in shock. 

"How? How did you…?"

"Terrifying, isn't it?" The Weaver said, putting her hand on her brother's shoulder, the first sign of genuine affection I had seen between them. "You're lucky you forced him out when you did, or he would have a part of your soul too."

The Seeker looked at me, the anger replaced by shock. 

"Who are you, Lukas? How is it you saw my name? How is it you spoke it? It hasn't been uttered in hundreds of thousands of years."

"I doubt he knows." The Weaver stepped forward and gently removed her brother's hands from my shoulders. "But we should warn the others not to let him look into their weaves."

The Seeker nodded. "Agreed." He turned his eyes back to me, but this time they were completely white. 

Shielded. 

"Tell me Lukas, what did you see?" He asked. "What did you see in my weave?"

"A city, nestled between a valley, where five rivers flowed into one. A palace, a crown. A king. I saw you, Seeker, before you were the Seeker."

The Seeker closed his eyes, a single tear falling down his cheek. "Yes. You did. And now I must ask you, Twisted Weave, to never reveal what you saw to anyone."

"I never intended to."

"Swear it to me, Lukas. Or I will have to destroy you, and lose myself in the process."

The Weaver put her hand on my arm, eyes filled with an emotion I had never seen before. Pleading. 

"Please, Lukas. Do as he asks." 

I didn't understand, but I couldn't refuse my goddess. 

I knelt before the Seeker. 

"I swear, on all that I hold dear, on my very soul, and each of the spirits that create it, that I will never reveal what I saw." 

The Seeker put his hand on my shoulder, and I felt a shock of energy flow through me. 

"You speak the truth," he said, surprised. "You never will, not even once."

The shock on his face was replaced by a warm, kind smile, and instead of a king, or a god, he looked like a grandfather, holding his grandchild for the first time. 

"That's enough." The Weaver said, knocking his hand off my shoulder. "I warned you, Seeker, that you cannot take him from me."

The Seeker looked at me for a long moment and then sighed in disappointment. 

"Very well, Weaver. He is yours. I will relinquish all claim to his soul. When he dies, you won't have to fight me to bring him to your side."

He waved his hand and my weave shuddered. I blinked, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders that I didn't know was there before. 

The Seeker breathed in deeply. "Now I must go. I've had more than enough surprises for one day." He faded away. 

The Weaver turned to me, her face radiant. "Nicely done, Lukas."

"Ma'am?"

"You've won over the Seeker. And you didn't even need my help to do it!"

I nodded. "Very good, now is it okay if I collapse in a quivering mess? My knees want to give in."

I fell to the floor. 

What have I done?

"I knew it." The goddess said, triumph in her voice. "I knew you were afraid of us."

"Terrified," calling her by her name. "But, I can't ever show it. Could you imagine his face if he found out?"

She sat next to me and put her head on my shoulder, in a room full of stars. 

"You never have to fear me, Twisted Weave. You're favoured. You've taken my mark, which means that hurting you would be like hurting me."

"You didn't give it to me?" I asked, surprised. 

She shook her head. "No, no, you took it. In the temple. I had no choice in the matter. One moment I was looking at your weave, and then I felt you inside of mine. I didn't even feel you enter. You were just there, filling my soul with your presence, and it felt…warm, kind, wise. You passed through every single one of my defences as if they were nothing more than spider silk in your path, reached into my earliest memories, and dug out my greatest secret, without even knowing what you were doing. And on your way out, you took a piece of me with you, and that's what marked you."

"Your greatest secret? Your name?" 

She nodded. "Knowledge is power, Lukas. The more you know about something, the more power you have over it. And my name is the starting point to truly knowing me. Once you have that, you can slowly uncover everything else, and once you know me perfectly, I become yours to do with as you please."

She stopped speaking, resting her head on my shoulder. "Do you know how many millennia it's been since someone called me by my name?" She closed her eyes, "Do you know how long it's been since I had someone to talk to like this?"

She took my arm and put it around her. My hand rested on her hip. 

"Do you know how long it's been since I've been this close to someone?"

She snuggled in closer. 

Do you know how much power you have over me?

She didn't say those words. They didn't leave her lips. But I heard them. They reverberated in my soul, and nearly shook my weave apart. 

And there it was. Vulnerability. Fear. Hope. Warmth. Affection. Trust. I felt them radiate from her. 

My heart softened. At that moment, she was more than the goddess, more than the Weaver. She was my friend. And I was hers, every single part of me. 

I felt humbled, and a little ashamed, that a being as glorious as her would consider someone like me, a broken old half-elf, a mortal that failed to protect his queen, a fool that doomed the world, to be anything more than a servant.

"I never considered you a servant, Lukas." She rebuked me mildly.

I turned surprised. She laughed. "Oh, yes, I can hear yours too, I have just as much of your soul as you have of mine. And that bond will only grow stronger the more you learn of me."

She reached up and ran her fingers on the golden chain of the amulet she gave me. 

"You're still wearing it." She said, pulling the amulet out from under my shirt, and holding it in her hand. 

"I never take it off."

"Why do you hide it under your clothes?"

"Because I want to keep you all for myself," I replied, ending with her name. 

She pulled away from me, smiling radiantly. 

"Turn to face me."

I did so, changing position so that I was sitting, cross-legged, in front of her. 

She reached out with the finger, "This will sting a little bit." She said and began to trace something over my heart. 

Her finger left a trail of fire as she traced it on my chest, but I trusted her. I never took my eyes off of hers, even after she finished. 

"All done." 

I looked down, feeling a strange heat on my chest. 

The image of a stalk of golden wheat was tattooed above my heart. 

"Sorry about your shirt." She said, grinning. 

"What is it?"

"Before I was the Weaver, I was the Mother of the Harvest." She said, resuming her position under my arm, her head on my shoulder, my arm around her, my hand resting gently on her hip. "That was my symbol." 

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to learn more about me." She replied, a simple response, just nine little words, but they meant so much more. 

She trusts me, and I will not fail her.

"That's nice." She said, her voice soft, warm, almost sleepy. 

I closed my eyes, and put my head on hers. I felt her warmth against me, and the comfort of her presence, and for the first time in a long time, across two lifetimes, I felt safe and at peace.

And I fell back asleep.