Sorore was having a truly terrible day. First, she was sent rushing around a network of roots and earth, becoming filthy in the process. Then came that terrible tunnel that left stones in her stomach as they passed through. However, they’d emerged onto that strange, dense cavern, littered with bridges.
That, and the waters below, were at least quite pretty, until it was pointed out that the walls were teeming with a carpet of glowing insects. The presence of such life proved rather unnerving, and she suspected that it was one of the reasons she felt so woozy crossing the series of bridges that formed before them.
Before long as the procession continued, Sorore found herself looking back at the cavern, and finding it stretching back into the distance. They might have been travelling for a few minutes or a few hours, for all she could tell. The steady stream of green light from the denizens of the carven didn’t help all that much either.
As time passed her head had become heavy and hot and it took all her effort to keep trudging forward. The people around her had become ephemeral shadows, sometimes the forms of people she recognized like Lillian or Aya, sometimes random soldiers, others people from her past who could not possibly be there with them.
The feeling abated somewhat at one point, and she realised that the group had stopped in the middle of a bridge. There was some commotion at the front, as something immense walked towards them. A pressure came from this figure, unlike anything Sorore had felt - it was akin to the touch of the sun, but harder, more forceful.
Her knees began to tremble as soldiers ahead of her crumpled to the ground. She could see more of the thing now - a tall, powerful creature of muscle and fur, something like a deer, but with far too many antlers, and far too many eyes. Her vision was swimming as she turned away, feeling the urge to vomit rise in her stomach
When she looked up her brother was there, holding her by the shoulder and yelling something. She could hear but not fully understand, as if she was still emerging from sleep. Before she could do anything, he was pulling her away, back the way they’d come. And then the whole world tilted sideways.
Sorore realised that they were all falling moments before her back hit water. She sank into the cold before kicking her way back to the surface and gasping when she emerged. Most of her disorientation had vanished from the shock, replaced by the horror of watching the heavier soldiers flounder. Finally, she managed to locate her brother and the two of them swam closer together.
“What just happened?” she said, looking upwards to find that the bridge had vanished.
“There was something at the head of the convoy. It stopped us,” he said, trying to shake the water out of his hair, “something big. And unhappy with us.”
“And? Why are we down here now?”
“I dunno. Why’d you ask me?” he said, “we must have made something angry.”
“Well, how do we get out of here?”
He said nothing as he dived down, emerging after a few moments.
“Nope. Nothing,” he said, “I don’t think there’s a way out down. We can only climb,” he said, nodding towards the tangle of roots that lined the cavern walls.
Sorore didn’t say a word as she swam for one she could hold on to. She was grateful for a solid surface, more than large enough to haul themselves onto. Her brother rolled onto his back and grinned at her.
“Why are you so happy about this?” she said, attempting to wring water out of the edge of her robes.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
Many of the knights and horses had followed suit, swimming over to the larger roots and clambering up.
“You need to take this seriously. How are we going to get the horses back up?”
“Oh,” he said in response.
“What does that mea-”
Then she heard a roar from behind them.
“Oh,” she echoed, turning to see a swell surging towards them, a wave beginning to arc as it crashed through the roots. It was futile to jump and grab onto a higher root, but she tried anyway. Her fingers had barely touched the wood when the water smashed into her, drowning her yelp as she was flung down far and away.
The rest was utter chaos - sputtering, spinning, being flung head over heels and grabbing a breath each time her head popped above the surface. She was far too panicked to try and find her sibling, or anyone else for that matter. The world blurred into a smear of green as she was carried along, until, suddenly, she was hurtling into darkness.
Water pounded to foam before her as she was carried farther and farther from the opening of green light and into shadow. For the second time today, she smashed into the water, feeling her body sting as she plunged into a roiling cauldron. From there, it was merely holding her breath for dear life as she was spun around even more violently than before.
Her chest screamed for air as she tried to figure which way was up, the water grappling her this way and that in the murk. She was kicking, scrabbling, clawing the fluid around her, trying to get anywhere from here. Her mind darkened, her thoughts consumed with the thought of that one sweet breath as she opened her mouth, and choked on the waters around her.
Pain filled her, was her, the last thing she did was scream in terror into the dark waters as her limp body was tossed around in the rapid.
And then there was quiet.
She was lying, staring at a pale sky. Everything around her was grey, grey sands, grey sky, grey waters, stretching and blurring into the horizon.
Who was she again?
Why was she here?
She sat up, her body so light it was hardly present.
Across the perfectly flat waters, there was the smallest of ripples on the grey surface, moving towards her.
She was curious.
So, slowly, she walked across the pale surface.
The ripple rose to meet her, to fold around her without water, dominating her field of view. She could see how deep the water was, deeper than she could’ve ever imagined, teeming with things dead and alive - with books and palaces and great sea serpents, with cities and corpses and creatures with far too many legs and eyes.
The ripple engulfed her, and for a moment, she was one with it.
And Sorore awoke, hacking and vomiting and breathing sweet, sweet air.
She was caked in sand, from the beach below her, not the grey sand of that quickly fading vision but a pale white. A small island stretched around her in what looked to be a lake, littered with bodies of Naia’s troops. At first she thought that she was stranded with corpses, but quickly realised they were just unconscious.
The edge of the water drew back and crested into a wave. As Sorore stumbled back, the waters crashed onto the beach, leaving Aya behind. She coughed her way into consciousness, spewing water onto the sand.
“Sorore?” she said, wiping her mouth as she sat up, “where are we?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “have you seen my brother?”
“I was under the water,” she said, coughing again, “how could I?”
Sorore cast about, looking for Frare, and finding no one.
“What are we supposed to do?” she said, plopping down onto the sand beside the girl.
Aya looked at her and shook her head, which frustrated Sorore to no end. It wasn’t fair, Aya knew no more than she did. For the first time, the chill of the water began to settle into her, and more than anything she longed for a fire. Aya had already pulled off the robes that lined her, stripping to her underclothes.
“What are you doing?” Soroe said.
“These are wet, and heavy,” she said, “we’ll catch cold.”
Sorore dithered about whether it was ‘lady-like’ for a moment. Deciding that if there ever was exceptional circumstances, this would be it, she joined Aya. As the two of them tried their best to wring out what water they could, the waters receded once more. A series of junk washed up upon the shore - stick and shard of metal, lengths of sodden rope and cloth, and finally, something larger.
It was large, longer than a man laid out, all sorts of sharp points and edges concealed under layers of thick black rags. Between the gaps, Sorore could see a lattice of metal glimmering in the light. She approached carefully, cautiously, trying to glean a hint of movement from the thing lying on the sand. Her hand sank into the folds of fabric down to her wrist, finding something hard underneath.
“Get away from it!” hissed Aya, her eyes filled with apprehension.
“I think it’s dead. Whatever it is. Might just be junk,” Sorore said, though with more certainty than she felt.
“It’s not,” Aya said, “it’s alive.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve seen it before,” she said, “get away from it, please.”
Sorore backed away from the pile of rags. Whatever it was, Aya seemed deathly afraid of it, and she had no reason to doubt her. Before she could return to wringing out clothes, she noticed something else had washed ashore. She dragged it up from the sand - a long, cobbled-together band of metal struts, almost as tall as she was. At one end there was a smooth ball surrounded by smaller, latched tabs. At the other was a hand-like structure, six ‘fingers’ made of jointed blades.
“It’s… an arm?” Sorore said, admiring the elegance of its haphazard construction.
“Leave it alone,” Aya begged her, “just leave it alone.”
But Sorore couldn’t stop, not now. She hauled it over to the thing that lay in the sand, and peeled back the rags. Just as she expected, there was a protrusion of metal - a rotating plate with indents, rounding off into a perfectly smooth bowl. Sorore hauled the arm and fitted it into the joint, slotting every tab into the notches. It was difficult to describe the satisfaction she felt as she pressed them into place with a click. When she was finished, she stood back to wonder at her work, despite the arm’s apparently limpness on the sand.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the curve of the metal.
Aya looked as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time.
“Can you get away from it now?” she whispered.
Sorore was about to say that she shouldn’t’ve been so worried, but then, from the distance, came the sound of footsteps.
With that distinct sound, there also came the rush of water as it receded from the sand bar and into the dark. The revealed slope was littered with all sorts of things - bones, swords, broken waggons, soaked books, colourful stones and gems. As it slunk further away, many of these items were picked up and vanished into the wall of water that surrounded their ‘island’.
The water rose, twisting itself into a pillar that towered over their little island. The items that it had picked up hung, kept aloft in loops of flowing water around the pillar. There was intentionality to it, a gaze without eyes that descended upon the two.
“I answer the call,” a voice rang out, overpowering without being loud.
There was a silence as the waters waited for an answer.
“Erm,” Sorore began, looking back at Aya, who’s eyes must’ve nearly doubled in size.
“Why have you called?” the voice said.
“What are you?” said Sorore, blanching at the power of the sound.
The waters remained silent for a moment, before it began to lower itself, twisted and extruding until it resembled a human silhouette.
“I do not understand,” it said, “you are, and are not. Your bodies are whole.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your hearts are dull, dirty, full. Yet I see the glimmer. Who are you?” said the thing, a hint of anger now, “who has sent you here?”
“I don’t understand,” said Sorore, shying away from the foam.
“You were ordered here weren’t you?” said the thing, “their glimmer is etched into your bones. State your purpose or leave.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said desperately, shifting back in the sands, “we just got here. I don’t know where here is. I don’t know who you are.”
The silhouette moved forwards, and the water rose around it. The bodies of the soldiers lifted in the tide as the sand vanished under the dark surface. Aya began to whimper as the liquid touched their legs, and the creature moved closer, close enough to touch Sorore.
“Do not mistake my meaning. The guardian has sent you to me, called upon a pact long sealed. Where are your masters? Why have they not come in your stead?”
Sorore leaned away from the mass of water.
“I don’t know, please-”
“My patience grows thin. I have already shown you enough courtesy, pulling you back from the abyss. State your purpose. Why has the guardian invoked the terms of the covenant? On whose behalf do you come?”
Sorore tried to lean away, to put any kind of distance between her and the thing before it touched her.
Then there was an explosion of water, pitching Sorore over and blinding her with spray. When she managed to wipe her eyes clean, something dark and tall stood in the water, claws of metal hanging limp. Meanwhile, the creature of water reformed itself from its splattered state. An unmistakable sense of dread flooded Sorore as the water around them flattened to a mirror like surface. The ragged shadow tried to move, only to be enveloped in a wave, kept spinning under the surface.
“Foolish,” the pillar said, “what are you, creature? A construct?”
The ragged thing said nothing, if it even could speak, struggling against its binds.
Soroe could see the layers peeled away by the swirling water, exposing a metal frame underneath, held together by corded rope and wires. As more cloth was flung out into the lake, a red glow began to show itself, beating like a heart through the dark torrent. Finally, the last layer of cloth was lifted and a crimson flash exploded across Sorore’s vision.
Blinded yet again, she heard a piercing wail that needled at her ears, and a thump from beside her as something slammed into the sand. She saw the metal creature partially buried in the sound as the waters rumbled and roared around the island.
“You!” the thing shrieked, beside itself with fury, “you! What have you done?!”
The water rose higher, the waves becoming spines as the human silhouette of the creature began to fall apart. Its body moved through abstract shapes, pulsing and arcing as if in agitation.
“Is this why I sleep? Why my flow slows with each passing season? No…” it said, “No… No! You didn’t!”
A visible shudder ran through the whole of the lake, bleeding off into the shadows.
There were words, Sorore knew they were words, but they were unlike anything she’d ever heard. Harmonies and dissonant sounds and clicks echoed around them. They were accompanied with flashing lights of various colours, patterns and intensities. She didn’t know what the display translated to, but she could discern the incandescent fury well enough.
The water spun into filaments arcing over the island like a bird cage. Sorore couldn’t hear much over the roar of the waters, or perhaps that was the sound of her own heart? She wondered if this was all a dream, one that she’d soon wake from. She be back in her warm bed in Angorrah, maybe a little sweaty, so she’d get a wash basin and-
“Stop!” came a third voice, and Sorore turned to see Naia, one hand outstretched in supplication, the other upon his side.
The waters continued to boil despite his pronouncement. Standing straighter and wincing in pain, he breathed in and shouted.
“Nadlai, Ulentenkat.”
Whatever he said, that seemed to stop the waters, or at least catch the attention of the creature.
“Who are you?” she said, “a mortal. A man.”
“You are Ulentenkat, no? The River’s Source? Chief of What Waters Run Below?”
“Names you have given to me,” said the thing, “none of you know what I am.”
“That be as it may,” Naia said, “we come here in peace - as travellers. Not as enemies.”
“Your proof is?”
“It is known, your gaze wraps the whole world. Eyes in every pond, ears in every river. The lapping of the water’s edge is your breath and the pounding of waves your song. Look at us. You have seen us before in your waters, no? Are we any more than we are?”
The waters rose, then sank slightly, while the silhouette stepped onto the sand, strands of water billowing out behind it like silk.
“Yes. Yes, I recognize your face, child of two tribes,” it said, “I’ve seen your face staring at mine. Your name’s been carried on the rivers.”
“Then you know I speak the truth.”
“You are a long way from home, Naia.”
Naia flinched at the statement, apparently not expecting the remark.
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“A lie. You did, and you do,” it said, the anger gone now, “but that matters little. Why do you travel with them?”
“I know nothing of… that, whatever it is,” he said, pointing at the bundle of rags, “but these children are just children. You must’ve seen them in your waters. I implore you, Ulentenkat, look for their faces in the river.”
‘Ulentenkat’ was silent for a moment, the human ‘body’ flowing in and out of form.
“Of course, children, playing by the sea. Sorore, Frare. Aya in the pools near mountain springs.”
“Just children,” Naia said, “blameless.”
“Children,” it murmured, “and yet…”
“Have we done harm to you?” he said.
The tendrils of water had mostly receded into the lake, but the surface still stirred, agitated.
“More than you could ever know,” it said, voice heavy with sorrow, “but you are blameless. All of you. Understanding avails itself. The sin you bear is not your own. Except…”
Its form inclined to face the smashed construct.
“You. It is not in my nature to be cruel, but you… be glad I deem your fate punishment enough.”
The thing shifted slowly, as if injured, under the gaze of the waters.
“You will seek a ray of hope to salve your suffering, don’t you? Even as you are washed away. Here is the truth; nothing and no one now named can help you. You are doomed.”
The thing shuddered and slumped back onto the sand.
“And you, Naia?” it said, “what of you and your wishes?”
“My only wish is for me and mine to leave this place, and return to my journey.”
The creature stepped further onto the sand, past Sorore and came before Naia, examining him.
“Is that so?” it said, “I wonder if your wishes are entirely your own.”
Naia looked up, furrowing his brow as the words washed over him.
“Very well. I honour my word. The sacrifice you have made to walk the Road is valid,” it said, “do you choose the location for them?”
“I do,” said Naia.
“Close your eyes, then. See where you wish to go.”
Naia did so as he sank to his knees on the sand. Sorore watched as the waters began to climb around them, the bodies of the soldiers being borne away in a sudden current. As the water began to pull at her feet, she began to look for somewhere, anywhere, to get away. Everywhere she looked there was water, calm, blue, glittering.
“Do not fight it,” said Ulentenkat, “I will not harm you. Let it flow.”
Sorore fell backward as the sand was sucked away from her feet, screwing her eyes shut. Bubbles crawled up her body as she sank into the darkness. Fluid entered into her mouth, no matter how tightly she crushed her lips together. Her chest burned, her legs kicked against empty space, and finally she couldn’t help it. The water filled her lungs, but there was no pain. She was distinctly reminded of once falling asleep on her father’s ship, that undeniable sense of motion as she was sucked away into the dark.
“Poor child,” came the thing’s disembodied voice, “you will taste despair most keenly. Your life is not your own. May their names be swallowed by the deep, and their faces be forgotten.”
Sorore felt unconsciousness crawl across her, higher thoughts fading into the darkness, until only a vague slurry of sensations passed before her. Time blurred together, such that there was no real difference between one thought and the next, and before she knew it, she was lying on cold, hard earth.
Above her was a grey sky, not the horrid grey strand, nor that strange pale place she had found herself, but a normal if dour day. She was on a river bank, robes both on and completely dry, with men and women of Naia’s troop shaking their heads and blinking as they rose. Some other dark figure stood there. But it was not the ragged construct - shorter, more defined and less thin.
‘Efrain’ stood there, with both hands on his hips, sighing as he watched the rest of them rise.
Sorore was having a truly terrible day. First, she was sent rushing around a network of roots and earth, becoming filthy in the process. Then came that terrible tunnel that left stones in her stomach as they passed through. However, they’d emerged onto that strange, dense cavern, littered with bridges.
That, and the waters below, were at least quite pretty, until it was pointed out that the walls were teeming with a carpet of glowing insects. The presence of such life proved rather unnerving, and she suspected that it was one of the reasons she felt so woozy crossing the series of bridges that formed before them.
Before long as the procession continued, Sorore found herself looking back at the cavern, and finding it stretching back into the distance. They might have been travelling for a few minutes or a few hours, for all she could tell. The steady stream of green light from the denizens of the carven didn’t help all that much either.
As time passed her head had become heavy and hot and it took all her effort to keep trudging forward. The people around her had become ephemeral shadows, sometimes the forms of people she recognized like Lillian or Aya, sometimes random soldiers, others people from her past who could not possibly be there with them.
The feeling abated somewhat at one point, and she realised that the group had stopped in the middle of a bridge. There was some commotion at the front, as something immense walked towards them. A pressure came from this figure, unlike anything Sorore had felt - it was akin to the touch of the sun, but harder, more forceful.
Her knees began to tremble as soldiers ahead of her crumpled to the ground. She could see more of the thing now - a tall, powerful creature of muscle and fur, something like a deer, but with far too many antlers, and far too many eyes. Her vision was swimming as she turned away, feeling the urge to vomit rise in her stomach
When she looked up her brother was there, holding her by the shoulder and yelling something. She could hear but not fully understand, as if she was still emerging from sleep. Before she could do anything, he was pulling her away, back the way they’d come. And then the whole world tilted sideways.
Sorore realised that they were all falling moments before her back hit water. She sank into the cold before kicking her way back to the surface and gasping when she emerged. Most of her disorientation had vanished from the shock, replaced by the horror of watching the heavier soldiers flounder. Finally, she managed to locate her brother and the two of them swam closer together.
“What just happened?” she said, looking upwards to find that the bridge had vanished.
“There was something at the head of the convoy. It stopped us,” he said, trying to shake the water out of his hair, “something big. And unhappy with us.”
“And? Why are we down here now?”
“I dunno. Why’d you ask me?” he said, “we must have made something angry.”
“Well, how do we get out of here?”
He said nothing as he dived down, emerging after a few moments.
“Nope. Nothing,” he said, “I don’t think there’s a way out down. We can only climb,” he said, nodding towards the tangle of roots that lined the cavern walls.
Sorore didn’t say a word as she swam for one she could hold on to. She was grateful for a solid surface, more than large enough to haul themselves onto. Her brother rolled onto his back and grinned at her.
“Why are you so happy about this?” she said, attempting to wring water out of the edge of her robes.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
Many of the knights and horses had followed suit, swimming over to the larger roots and clambering up.
“You need to take this seriously. How are we going to get the horses back up?”
“Oh,” he said in response.
“What does that mea-”
Then she heard a roar from behind them.
“Oh,” she echoed, turning to see a swell surging towards them, a wave beginning to arc as it crashed through the roots. It was futile to jump and grab onto a higher root, but she tried anyway. Her fingers had barely touched the wood when the water smashed into her, drowning her yelp as she was flung down far and away.
The rest was utter chaos - sputtering, spinning, being flung head over heels and grabbing a breath each time her head popped above the surface. She was far too panicked to try and find her sibling, or anyone else for that matter. The world blurred into a smear of green as she was carried along, until, suddenly, she was hurtling into darkness.
Water pounded to foam before her as she was carried farther and farther from the opening of green light and into shadow. For the second time today, she smashed into the water, feeling her body sting as she plunged into a roiling cauldron. From there, it was merely holding her breath for dear life as she was spun around even more violently than before.
Her chest screamed for air as she tried to figure which way was up, the water grappling her this way and that in the murk. She was kicking, scrabbling, clawing the fluid around her, trying to get anywhere from here. Her mind darkened, her thoughts consumed with the thought of that one sweet breath as she opened her mouth, and choked on the waters around her.
Pain filled her, was her, the last thing she did was scream in terror into the dark waters as her limp body was tossed around in the rapid.
And then there was quiet.
She was lying, staring at a pale sky. Everything around her was grey, grey sands, grey sky, grey waters, stretching and blurring into the horizon.
Who was she again?
Why was she here?
She sat up, her body so light it was hardly present.
Across the perfectly flat waters, there was the smallest of ripples on the grey surface, moving towards her.
She was curious.
So, slowly, she walked across the pale surface.
The ripple rose to meet her, to fold around her without water, dominating her field of view. She could see how deep the water was, deeper than she could’ve ever imagined, teeming with things dead and alive - with books and palaces and great sea serpents, with cities and corpses and creatures with far too many legs and eyes.
The ripple engulfed her, and for a moment, she was one with it.
And Sorore awoke, hacking and vomiting and breathing sweet, sweet air.
She was caked in sand, from the beach below her, not the grey sand of that quickly fading vision but a pale white. A small island stretched around her in what looked to be a lake, littered with bodies of Naia’s troops. At first she thought that she was stranded with corpses, but quickly realised they were just unconscious.
The edge of the water drew back and crested into a wave. As Sorore stumbled back, the waters crashed onto the beach, leaving Aya behind. She coughed her way into consciousness, spewing water onto the sand.
“Sorore?” she said, wiping her mouth as she sat up, “where are we?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “have you seen my brother?”
“I was under the water,” she said, coughing again, “how could I?”
Sorore cast about, looking for Frare, and finding no one.
“What are we supposed to do?” she said, plopping down onto the sand beside the girl.
Aya looked at her and shook her head, which frustrated Sorore to no end. It wasn’t fair, Aya knew no more than she did. For the first time, the chill of the water began to settle into her, and more than anything she longed for a fire. Aya had already pulled off the robes that lined her, stripping to her underclothes.
“What are you doing?” Soroe said.
“These are wet, and heavy,” she said, “we’ll catch cold.”
Sorore dithered about whether it was ‘lady-like’ for a moment. Deciding that if there ever was exceptional circumstances, this would be it, she joined Aya. As the two of them tried their best to wring out what water they could, the waters receded once more. A series of junk washed up upon the shore - stick and shard of metal, lengths of sodden rope and cloth, and finally, something larger.
It was large, longer than a man laid out, all sorts of sharp points and edges concealed under layers of thick black rags. Between the gaps, Sorore could see a lattice of metal glimmering in the light. She approached carefully, cautiously, trying to glean a hint of movement from the thing lying on the sand. Her hand sank into the folds of fabric down to her wrist, finding something hard underneath.
“Get away from it!” hissed Aya, her eyes filled with apprehension.
“I think it’s dead. Whatever it is. Might just be junk,” Sorore said, though with more certainty than she felt.
“It’s not,” Aya said, “it’s alive.”
“How would you know?”
“I’ve seen it before,” she said, “get away from it, please.”
Sorore backed away from the pile of rags. Whatever it was, Aya seemed deathly afraid of it, and she had no reason to doubt her. Before she could return to wringing out clothes, she noticed something else had washed ashore. She dragged it up from the sand - a long, cobbled-together band of metal struts, almost as tall as she was. At one end there was a smooth ball surrounded by smaller, latched tabs. At the other was a hand-like structure, six ‘fingers’ made of jointed blades.
“It’s… an arm?” Sorore said, admiring the elegance of its haphazard construction.
“Leave it alone,” Aya begged her, “just leave it alone.”
But Sorore couldn’t stop, not now. She hauled it over to the thing that lay in the sand, and peeled back the rags. Just as she expected, there was a protrusion of metal - a rotating plate with indents, rounding off into a perfectly smooth bowl. Sorore hauled the arm and fitted it into the joint, slotting every tab into the notches. It was difficult to describe the satisfaction she felt as she pressed them into place with a click. When she was finished, she stood back to wonder at her work, despite the arm’s apparently limpness on the sand.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the curve of the metal.
Aya looked as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time.
“Can you get away from it now?” she whispered.
Sorore was about to say that she shouldn’t’ve been so worried, but then, from the distance, came the sound of footsteps.
With that distinct sound, there also came the rush of water as it receded from the sand bar and into the dark. The revealed slope was littered with all sorts of things - bones, swords, broken waggons, soaked books, colourful stones and gems. As it slunk further away, many of these items were picked up and vanished into the wall of water that surrounded their ‘island’.
The water rose, twisting itself into a pillar that towered over their little island. The items that it had picked up hung, kept aloft in loops of flowing water around the pillar. There was intentionality to it, a gaze without eyes that descended upon the two.
“I answer the call,” a voice rang out, overpowering without being loud.
There was a silence as the waters waited for an answer.
“Erm,” Sorore began, looking back at Aya, who’s eyes must’ve nearly doubled in size.
“Why have you called?” the voice said.
“What are you?” said Sorore, blanching at the power of the sound.
The waters remained silent for a moment, before it began to lower itself, twisted and extruding until it resembled a human silhouette.
“I do not understand,” it said, “you are, and are not. Your bodies are whole.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your hearts are dull, dirty, full. Yet I see the glimmer. Who are you?” said the thing, a hint of anger now, “who has sent you here?”
“I don’t understand,” said Sorore, shying away from the foam.
“You were ordered here weren’t you?” said the thing, “their glimmer is etched into your bones. State your purpose or leave.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said desperately, shifting back in the sands, “we just got here. I don’t know where here is. I don’t know who you are.”
The silhouette moved forwards, and the water rose around it. The bodies of the soldiers lifted in the tide as the sand vanished under the dark surface. Aya began to whimper as the liquid touched their legs, and the creature moved closer, close enough to touch Sorore.
“Do not mistake my meaning. The guardian has sent you to me, called upon a pact long sealed. Where are your masters? Why have they not come in your stead?”
Sorore leaned away from the mass of water.
“I don’t know, please-”
“My patience grows thin. I have already shown you enough courtesy, pulling you back from the abyss. State your purpose. Why has the guardian invoked the terms of the covenant? On whose behalf do you come?”
Sorore tried to lean away, to put any kind of distance between her and the thing before it touched her.
Then there was an explosion of water, pitching Sorore over and blinding her with spray. When she managed to wipe her eyes clean, something dark and tall stood in the water, claws of metal hanging limp. Meanwhile, the creature of water reformed itself from its splattered state. An unmistakable sense of dread flooded Sorore as the water around them flattened to a mirror like surface. The ragged shadow tried to move, only to be enveloped in a wave, kept spinning under the surface.
“Foolish,” the pillar said, “what are you, creature? A construct?”
The ragged thing said nothing, if it even could speak, struggling against its binds.
Soroe could see the layers peeled away by the swirling water, exposing a metal frame underneath, held together by corded rope and wires. As more cloth was flung out into the lake, a red glow began to show itself, beating like a heart through the dark torrent. Finally, the last layer of cloth was lifted and a crimson flash exploded across Sorore’s vision.
Blinded yet again, she heard a piercing wail that needled at her ears, and a thump from beside her as something slammed into the sand. She saw the metal creature partially buried in the sound as the waters rumbled and roared around the island.
“You!” the thing shrieked, beside itself with fury, “you! What have you done?!”
The water rose higher, the waves becoming spines as the human silhouette of the creature began to fall apart. Its body moved through abstract shapes, pulsing and arcing as if in agitation.
“Is this why I sleep? Why my flow slows with each passing season? No…” it said, “No… No! You didn’t!”
A visible shudder ran through the whole of the lake, bleeding off into the shadows.
There were words, Sorore knew they were words, but they were unlike anything she’d ever heard. Harmonies and dissonant sounds and clicks echoed around them. They were accompanied with flashing lights of various colours, patterns and intensities. She didn’t know what the display translated to, but she could discern the incandescent fury well enough.
The water spun into filaments arcing over the island like a bird cage. Sorore couldn’t hear much over the roar of the waters, or perhaps that was the sound of her own heart? She wondered if this was all a dream, one that she’d soon wake from. She be back in her warm bed in Angorrah, maybe a little sweaty, so she’d get a wash basin and-
“Stop!” came a third voice, and Sorore turned to see Naia, one hand outstretched in supplication, the other upon his side.
The waters continued to boil despite his pronouncement. Standing straighter and wincing in pain, he breathed in and shouted.
“Nadlai, Ulentenkat.”
Whatever he said, that seemed to stop the waters, or at least catch the attention of the creature.
“Who are you?” she said, “a mortal. A man.”
“You are Ulentenkat, no? The River’s Source? Chief of What Waters Run Below?”
“Names you have given to me,” said the thing, “none of you know what I am.”
“That be as it may,” Naia said, “we come here in peace - as travellers. Not as enemies.”
“Your proof is?”
“It is known, your gaze wraps the whole world. Eyes in every pond, ears in every river. The lapping of the water’s edge is your breath and the pounding of waves your song. Look at us. You have seen us before in your waters, no? Are we any more than we are?”
The waters rose, then sank slightly, while the silhouette stepped onto the sand, strands of water billowing out behind it like silk.
“Yes. Yes, I recognize your face, child of two tribes,” it said, “I’ve seen your face staring at mine. Your name’s been carried on the rivers.”
“Then you know I speak the truth.”
“You are a long way from home, Naia.”
Naia flinched at the statement, apparently not expecting the remark.
“I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“A lie. You did, and you do,” it said, the anger gone now, “but that matters little. Why do you travel with them?”
“I know nothing of… that, whatever it is,” he said, pointing at the bundle of rags, “but these children are just children. You must’ve seen them in your waters. I implore you, Ulentenkat, look for their faces in the river.”
‘Ulentenkat’ was silent for a moment, the human ‘body’ flowing in and out of form.
“Of course, children, playing by the sea. Sorore, Frare. Aya in the pools near mountain springs.”
“Just children,” Naia said, “blameless.”
“Children,” it murmured, “and yet…”
“Have we done harm to you?” he said.
The tendrils of water had mostly receded into the lake, but the surface still stirred, agitated.
“More than you could ever know,” it said, voice heavy with sorrow, “but you are blameless. All of you. Understanding avails itself. The sin you bear is not your own. Except…”
Its form inclined to face the smashed construct.
“You. It is not in my nature to be cruel, but you… be glad I deem your fate punishment enough.”
The thing shifted slowly, as if injured, under the gaze of the waters.
“You will seek a ray of hope to salve your suffering, don’t you? Even as you are washed away. Here is the truth; nothing and no one now named can help you. You are doomed.”
The thing shuddered and slumped back onto the sand.
“And you, Naia?” it said, “what of you and your wishes?”
“My only wish is for me and mine to leave this place, and return to my journey.”
The creature stepped further onto the sand, past Sorore and came before Naia, examining him.
“Is that so?” it said, “I wonder if your wishes are entirely your own.”
Naia looked up, furrowing his brow as the words washed over him.
“Very well. I honour my word. The sacrifice you have made to walk the Road is valid,” it said, “do you choose the location for them?”
“I do,” said Naia.
“Close your eyes, then. See where you wish to go.”
Naia did so as he sank to his knees on the sand. Sorore watched as the waters began to climb around them, the bodies of the soldiers being borne away in a sudden current. As the water began to pull at her feet, she began to look for somewhere, anywhere, to get away. Everywhere she looked there was water, calm, blue, glittering.
“Do not fight it,” said Ulentenkat, “I will not harm you. Let it flow.”
Sorore fell backward as the sand was sucked away from her feet, screwing her eyes shut. Bubbles crawled up her body as she sank into the darkness. Fluid entered into her mouth, no matter how tightly she crushed her lips together. Her chest burned, her legs kicked against empty space, and finally she couldn’t help it. The water filled her lungs, but there was no pain. She was distinctly reminded of once falling asleep on her father’s ship, that undeniable sense of motion as she was sucked away into the dark.
“Poor child,” came the thing’s disembodied voice, “you will taste despair most keenly. Your life is not your own. May their names be swallowed by the deep, and their faces be forgotten.”
Sorore felt unconsciousness crawl across her, higher thoughts fading into the darkness, until only a vague slurry of sensations passed before her. Time blurred together, such that there was no real difference between one thought and the next, and before she knew it, she was lying on cold, hard earth.
Above her was a grey sky, not the horrid grey strand, nor that strange pale place she had found herself, but a normal if dour day. She was on a river bank, robes both on and completely dry, with men and women of Naia’s troop shaking their heads and blinking as they rose. Some other dark figure stood there. But it was not the ragged construct - shorter, more defined and less thin.
‘Efrain’ stood there, with both hands on his hips, sighing as he watched the rest of them rise.
