The Woven End Read online

  She felt an internal pull. She closed her eyes and pushed through to the Sálverøld. Creed looked down at her.

  “I would not give you up to dark spirits,” he said.

  “Creed, have you ever felt like something has broken in your mind?

  “No. I don’t think so.

  She stood. “I hear your words, and they make sense to me, but they don’t seem to settle in my mind. I can’t accept it. I have devoted myself to a belief and blind devotion, and I don’t know how to let it go. I don’t know if I should. My heart still yearns for what was promised.”

  “Accept my promise to remain faithful to you. Will you? Turn to another belief. Devote yourself in my direction, eyes wide open, instead.”

  His blue gold soul leaned in to her brown, gilded one and kissed it as souls kiss. She didn't tear away, and she made no sound. There was nothing impure, nothing wrong, nothing violated, but everything right. Everything came together. She understood. She accepted and she smiled.

  He leaned back and looked at her. She was unashamed. She looked down for a moment to gather her thoughts.

  "How do we know what is true, Creed? How can we possibly know?"

  "Because we know the Great Soul," he answered. "And you don't have much of a choice. Whether you know or don't know, that slyte that came to kill you represents many others who firmly believe in what we have told you. They are watching you like starving animals, because they sense the danger of affection for Nat, and they revere the Great Soul. If we ever leave you alone they will pounce and tear you to shreds.

  “There’s a very, very old song that hints at what the truth is. It says, We pass without alarm for we know the Great Soul whispers its mind to the stars, for it is in the mind it loves, in the mind it knows, and in the mind it holds all of us.

  “Whatever my dad does, I trust him, because he is the Great soul."

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Truth's voice reached Creed's ears. The pupils in his fire-reflecting eyes dilated and shrank as his body began to move.

  Truth smirked. "You didn't hear a word I said to you. You're usually better at staying with your body."

  "I was busy."

  "Oh, I'm sure." Truth smiled. "Is everything okay with you two?"

  Creed nodded curtly and smiled.

  "Well," Truth sighed, "I was telling you that we need to get Story back to the complex. You take her, warm her up, and get her some food. Elder Clarity will accommodate you. I'm going to look for Nat."

  "Take—? No, no, no. It won't work, dad. Her soul understands, but she's got this… this stubborn sense of duty or… I don't know what it is."

  "She loves him. That doesn't always go away when someone does something wicked. When she saw what was really happening to him she fortified it with compassion. She's got a dangerous instrument in that soul of hers, because it goes against what reason would tell you and me, and if she ever gets to him—"

  "Women are insane," Creed muttered.

  "Yes, sometimes, but so are men. I said that about you and your insistence on whoring yourself about, too.

  “I'll find Nat. Hold her off for two days. If she isn't resisting you, keep her as long as you can. I'm sure I'll have this matter cleaned up before it comes to that." His eyes narrowed. "Can you do that? Two days?"

  "This will be worse than being a vocational hunter."

  "Okay, we need to start now. It's up to you to convince her to go with you. I'm on the hunt."

  He pulled his hood up, put on his mittens, and crawled out. He emerged from the entrance and stood up. Story stood a few feet away.

  "Story," he called softly.

  She turned around to face him. "What?"

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. "It's very important that you go with Creed to the complex. Don’t fight him, please. Just trust us."

  Her jaw jutted out and set, but she looked to the ground and nodded. "Okay."

  "It's okay to obey on the outside and stand firm on the inside, sometimes."

  Truth patted her shoulder once, smiled his approval, and walked away.

  “Truth!” She called out.

  He stopped and looked back at her.

  “I… Uh… I…” She stopped trying to say it and ran to him. She threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

  “Thank you for saving my life,” she said.

  “Of course,” he answered.

  They let go of one another, and Truth continued on his way.

  Creed emerged from the snow home. "So—"

  "Are you ready to go?" She asked.

  "Go? Go where?"

  "To the complex."

  He smiled, relieved. "Yes. I am ready."

  #

  The sleeping complex did not know of that day's events. No one from the Ilians returned there except for Story and Creed. Most were sleeping while fire watchers dozed lightly at their posts. They located Elder Clarity who gave them whatever they wanted and sat with them as they ate, asking nothing. He stared blindly, a contemplative look on his face.

  After a few minutes he said, "It is amazing."

  They stopped chewing and looked at each other.

  "What is?" Story asked.

  "That I would be here to see the end. Your father saved my life, you know," he said to Creed.

  "He never told me that."

  Clarity smiled. "Well, he doesn't work that way. He plays no favorites and saves or kills when it's necessary. He doesn't think about it, it's just what he does. It's a light thing for him to have saved me, but it is not a light thing for him to have befriended me. He offered to heal my eyes, too. But, I decided to take what fate had given me, and learn from it. It is a whole new world to be blind, but I can see perfectly well in the Sálverøld. It changes the way you see people."

  "Are you… are you like Hadate and the Father?" Story asked. "Are you older than you seem?"

  Clarity smiled and chuckled a little. "Everyone is older than they look these days. I prefer not to answer questions about age."

  Creed and Story continued eating. Clarity sat, staring with a mild smile.

  After eating, Clarity parted from them. Creed and Story slipped by their head-bobbing fire watcher, unnoticed, and prepared themselves for rest.

  "You can sleep in dad's bag," Creed said as he burrowed into his own. He sighed contentedly. "My own room, my own complex, with a big fire."

  "I can't believe what happened today, Creed. I'm stunned. I… I feel like…"

  Creed propped himself up on his elbows as he listened to her.

  She continued, "I should be crying or distressed, but I'm not. I don't understand why I'm not. I was when we ran from the cellar. Now, I feel like nothing happened. I'm at peace."

  "When someone trustworthy and capable sets out to take care of things, everyone feels better," Creed said.

  "No, it's not that."

  "Well, it hasn't become a reality to you. When it's all taken care of, it won't ever be a reality for you. Sure, the trauma of what we saw will stay with all of us, I suppose, but the first hand experience of what Nat would have done to this world will never be yours."

  Story stared into the air. Concern slowly etched itself across her brow. The concern disappeared as pity babbled like the reflection of moving water in her eyes.

  "That prince is wandering in a world he doesn't know, Creed. He's like a… like a little child who tottered away from its mother, only to fnd himself being chased by a white wolf."

  Creed sat up. "No, no. Listen to me, Story. He's not a little child. That's a man and a very dangerous one."

  She twisted her lips about and shook her head. "No. You both said he's controlled by something else, sometimes. That slyte is the dangerous one."

  "You can't distinguish the one from the other, Story.”

  "I can and I have! I've seen—"

  "Do we really have to go over this again? Meet me in the Sálverøld. Let's ta—"

  "No! What? Are you goi
ng to kiss me into silence? Use my vulnerable soul to shut me up?"

  Creed pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh, you'll wake someone," he whispered. "Listen, we don't have to have this argument. Let's just use reason for a moment. There's no hope of a separation from Nat-Scrios. Nat is doomed."

  "What if I could get this power strand you talk about?”

  "You’d be mad to do it!"

  "Why? Why is it mad to be willing to risk your life to save someone else’s?"

  Creed pulled at his hair in frustration. He leaned forward, trying very hard to refrain from yelling.

  "Stay with me, Story. Don't try this. I'll lose you forever, and then what will I do?"

  She replied, "You have plenty of women lined up behind me, Creed."

  "Lies!”

  Story looked at him silently, with eyebrows raised.

  "I'm going," she said.

  Creed leapt from his bag as though it spat him out. He stood in front of her.

  "Over and over again! Same words, same cycle, never at rest! You can't do that. The power strand requires strength and not the kind you have. It requires the kind of strength a slyte has. You can't do it. Don't—"

  "Well, if the world is going to end—"

  "But it's not! As long as my dad gets to him, everything will be fine until the end… the end as it should be. Besides, you'll never reach Nat with frightened slytes on your tail. Remember?"

  She scanned his face as she deliberated. No one could say that Creed was insincere. Even his rapport with women noted him as a fun-loving fellow who rarely misguided them. It was always based on an agreement to share mutual entertainment from each other's company. Some thought that was wrong, some thought that was okay, and yet no one ever said he lead anyone to think he would marry them, or even be their friend the next day—unless they were stupid.

  Even his faithless remarks were said with laughter. The laughter made sense when she realized every faithless remark was a façade. The mean things he said to her were always tinged with humor. It was all a big joke, and he made it clear all along while she busied herself trying to hate him.

  I hate you, you hate me. Isn't that what he once said, with unknown emotion flickering behind those dark eyes?

  The question was whether she could resist the sincere imploring in his expression now.

  Why should she believe anything but that nagging, tug, tug, tug in her soul that said, "He's a person who is hurting and you're the only one who can get near to him. You can fix this without bloodshed."?

  "I will listen to my soul," she said aloud.

  Creed blinked a few times before relaxing a little. He questioned her with his face before venturing to ask, "What does your soul say, then?"

  "It says that I must do what is right, no matter how I feel."

  He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay, and what is right?"

  "To help someone in need."

  "Story, please don’t force me to—"

  She put her face in his."To what? Hit me? Knock me over? Tie me up? What?"

  "Beg," he answered, calmly.

  "N.. No. You don't have to do that.”

  #

  The wine-gold soul approached the enormous slyte, standing in an open field. The slyte swelled and sank as with breath as the soul spoke.

  "Great Slyte, you have been the keeper of the pike. It has long been a shame to you and now is the time to give it glory. Will you release it to me?"

  The wine-gold soul gave the slyte the hastily made, small pike from the slyte who attacked Story.

  The Great Slyte looked the soul over. "Why should I trust you? It is a weapon of such power that I'd be a fool to put it in the hands of a human. Especially one of your history.”

  "You know me. You know that I would not hurt any slyte but one. You can trust me."

  "I knew you by several names, and yet I never knew your nativity. Who are you really, and why should I trust such a changing being who possesses all of history and yet no history?"

  "If you knew who I was, you wouldn't speak to me this way. You would offer the pike without being asked."

  The Great Slyte's form leapt like a black flame and then shrank smaller and smaller until it matched the size of the wine-gold soul. It formed itself like a human and stepped forward to the soul with hand outstretched. Wine-gold accepted the gesture and touched his palm to the slyte's.

  The Great Slyte, electrified, crumbled to the ground in a seizure, like a living mass of bubbling, boiling tar. The heart-rending cry from the creature filled the Sálverøld, altering everything around it for the moment it lasted.

  Rain fell.

  "Father, I did not see who you were." It said,"The pike is the creation of a vile being who has done nothing but rebel against you. It represents our fall from innocence, our shame, and our understanding of death. I understand that something greater is coming, and that, in your hands, whether you do the rest of us well or ill by it, it is our greatest chance for survival."

  Wine-gold spoke, "Give it to me, and don't hurt the girl."

  #

  Truth trekked across the island for several hours without even a glimpse of Nat. He would bear the biting wind no more. He rested by the rubble of an ancient building, shielded from the wind. He pulled dried meat out of a pouch and took a great bite out of it.

  Where would the boy go? Frosts.

  He sighed and took another bite from his meat.

  He could be anywhere. He could be a bear, for all I know.

  The new layer of ice made the search difficult. Perhaps a cat cloak would travel better?

  #

  Story snatched up a few pieces of dried meat and put them in her pocket. She peeked into the center room. Their fire keeper was awake. She looked back at Creed. She felt the tug again. This was a tug to stay, a tug in Creed's direction. She fancied going over and curling up beside him.

  That's not your soul that's your emotions. What are feelings anyway? Destructive forces that make men think we are weaker than they are. Commitment is a solid, realistic idea. I've committed love to someone and I will keep my commitment even to death.

  He's lived his life treating women like inferior little toys. I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to just tuck myself away because the manly duo told me I should.

  She forced her eyes from Creed and with a deep breath, she stepped out.

  But what about those slytes…? She shook it off. Just hurry and find him. Never stop moving.

  She walked on.

  The fire keeper smiled at her but asked nothing. She breathed relief as she entered the hallway leading to the main door. It was too dangerous to stop for thought or to brace herself. She went straight up the stairs and out the door. She got herself a bear from the shed.

  Where would I go if I were him? She asked herself. To the water for food?

  Assuming that he was probably quite hungry, that seemed as good a thought as any, and she would follow it until a better idea came. She directed the bear toward the shoreline.

  He might have come here looking for food, but that would have been a long time ago. By now he would look for shelter. Where would he go for shelter?

  An answer filled her up and nearly burst through her mouth, "His palace!"

  She turned the bear around and gave it a squeeze. The bear pushed itself into a bearish lollop.

  #

  Creed stared at the fire keeper, the flames reflecting in his eyes.

  "And you just let her walk out?"

  "How was I supposed to know?" The sullen keeper replied.

  Creed's stomach sank and his chest tightened. He growled as he pressed his palm to his forehead, gathering his thoughts.

  "Frosts blast that woman," he growled through his clenched teeth. He pulled his hood up and sprinted out and down the hall to the main door.

  “Frosts blast me.”

  #

  Truth slipped into the Sálverøld and looked around him.

  Where would I go if I were Nat?

  A
slyte laid its cold mass on him. The answer filled him up. He cursed.

  Of course!

  Truth's eyes dilated, he gasped and sprang to his feet, with his face to the wind, he trudged toward the north.

  #

  The gray wolf licked its flank and looked out of its cave, panting. It took awhile for her to recover her courage, but she was ready now. If she didn't step in, the matter would get far out of hand. She never let anything get out of her hand.

  #

  Creed chose the leanest bear he could find in the shed and followed after the fresh tracks left by the runaway. The tracks were directed west. A strange choice.

  He chose the right bear. The leanness gave her speed that could not be surpassed by the average, fat plodder. Perhaps they would catch Story before she reached her destination or, perhaps, before her hunters did.

  #

  Nat perched himself on top of the rubble that was once a palace, his palace. The ground level remained, though it could not be safe and was, by no means, whole. He flew to the ground and removed his wingray cloak. There were no other wingrays in the sky. Maybe they didn't exist anymore. He looked around him, bewildered. He shivered and stepped into the precarious palace rubble to escape the bite of the wind.

  This would have been a hallway. Now there were no walls around it, and a steel gray sky made the ceiling. He turned right and followed his memory to the end of another decayed hallway which lead to what was once the library. He sat down against the dilapidated wall and cried. What else could be done?

  He'd been preserved for a purpose, against his will, without direction. He hated his uncle and all he stood for, but he would not have killed him. He was the only hope for anything—

  Anything! No one knew his language anymore, and no one knew him—except for…

  He jumped to his feet and wiped his eyes.

  "Hello," she said in his language. Tall, slender, black hair pulled tightly back in her red hood.

  "Who are you?”

  "That doesn't really matter. I have something that might help you."