The Woven End Read online

  "Hurry and say it, for I do not know when… when the madness will seize me. I—"

  He took a few steps away from her, flinching, as if from a bright light.

  She stepped forward. "Oh, poor, sweet thing. Well, my dear, hear me now. Your best course of action is coming to you. There's a lovely girl. She has been very much interested in you for a long while. I suggest that you rely on her."

  "I don't know who you are, good lady, but I have been pushed beyond the limits of humanity under the weight of someone else's desires. I will choose for myself. Farewell."

  With a gracious bow of the head and a mild smile, she slipped from the open room and left under the cloak of a gray wolf.

  Nat looked on at the place where another human being had stood. Did he really behave that way? He chased away a friendly human. What a beautiful sight: a human.

  "You don't need her. You need the one who is coming," Nat-Scrios said.

  "Don't talk to me. I don't want you."

  "Do you want me to leave?"

  Unbearable thought! To lose the voice that kept him for star after star. The threat had been made before and carried out for long stretches of time. He had no way of telling how long. Nat whimpered and fell to the ground, his face to the snow.

  "No!" He howled, breaking into tears. He gasped, "Don't go. You're the only voice I know."

  Soft, slow foot steps approached.

  #

  The bear could disappear for all she cared. She left it untied and entered the ruin. A woman's voice from the right brought her to a halt. The language was foreign. A man's voice joined in with the woman's. Whatever he said, his mind was made up about it. Story pressed herself against the crumbling wall to her right as the soft padding of steps came near to her. A gray face, at about the height of Story's thigh, emerged from the other side of the wall and looked up at her with bright, expressive black eyes set in gray fur.

  A wolf.

  She lost her breath and wanted to close her eyes, but could not will herself to do it. The wolf looked at her, interested, but walked on, brushing its tail side-to-side over the snow as it left.

  The man's voice wailed and broke into tears.

  If she was going to do it, she would have to do it now. She shook herself and breathed in and out a few times before going around the wall. She took one look back for the wolf and set her course for the man's voice.

  How do I address him? She searched her memories.

  Why did you do this? You can't turn back now. What sense is in that? Listen to him. He's just a person who needs help.

  Oh, yes, a person who drinks human blood and kills people with fire from the sky. He just needs help.

  He does. You need him, too. You've seen what could be if all goes well.

  And if it doesn't go well?

  Well, then I've done my best. What more can I say?

  She leaned against the wall that separated them, gathering her thoughts and her courage while her pulse drummed away in her ears. She willed her hand to her pocket and, trembling, pulled out the dried meat.

  #

  The footsteps stopped nearby, but no one appeared. He shrouded himself with the cloak of a kreev. Be the visitor beast or man, he would be prepared. Be it the help that woman told him he should take, he'd be prepared for that, too. He brought down a mist of warm rain, and thus a fog ascended.

  #

  Warm and cold, wet and dry; the strange moisture was uncomfortable. The cloud seemed unnaturally abrupt, and—come to think of it— so did the silence from the other side of the wall. The fog paralyzed her instinct to flee.

  Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. Her mind said to her over and over again. You couldn't bear to be treated like an inferior, to be protected by people who care about you. Had they been women, would you have resisted them?

  She still clenched the dried meat as a gray snout, at waist height, emerged from the other side of the wall. The whole head turned to focus on her.

  It was like a wolf, but bigger, thicker, and with strange, preternatural eyes. The snarl disappeared, and the eyes softened. She watched as the animal seemed to blow away in a non-existent wind. A man stood so near she could feel his breath. The skin around his eyes was puffed and pink. His wan face housed staring, wide eyes. Mad eyes. He seemed as one who was sane in every other way. What could she expect from someone with sane madness?

  Her legs trembled as though they would give out under her, and the pressure on her chest pushed so unbearably hard she thought she would have to flee on her wobbly legs in an attempt to relieve it. Instead, she closed her eyes and reached her hand out to him.

  What are you doing? She screamed to herself.

  He took the meat from her hand and said something, but she could not understand it. Their eyes bonded, and each seemed to know just what must be done. She embraced the idea and plunged into the Sálverøld. Here, they would understand, here, they would communicate as before. Here, is where she saw the man not mad.

  #

  "Oh, by the stars, let it not be."

  Truth spotted a bear wandering by the palace ruins. He picked up the pace. He had what he needed to end this, and if someone else had to witness it, then so be it.

  Hadate or Story?

  Hadate would not go by bear, in this instance, he was sure. Story, then. He ventured into the Sálverøld to look in on Creed and Story back in the complex, but found the room empty.

  When I get my hands on that boy… If I get my hands on him ever again…Oh, my boy, I'll hug him, and we'll cry until we laugh.

  He dismounted his bear and stood still.

  Into the Sálverøld…

  #

  "Frost and ice! What was she doing? Wandered across half the island before running north?" Creed stopped to fume.

  A mist of rain, now fog. That could not be a good sign. He started off again, following her tracks to the south.

  #

  "Who are you?" Nat asked.

  "My name is Story."

  "What do you want with me?"

  She didn't really know. What did she want with him? "I want to be your servant."

  He looked hard at her for a moment.

  "A woman came just before you to tell me you were coming. What say you to that?"

  "A woman? Hadate would be the only one who it could be. I am not with her, and she is not my friend."

  Movement caught their eyes. Spirits flittered here and there as they made way for a figure of wine gold, bearing a long black pike in its hand.

  Nat-Scrios gave neither Truth nor Nat time to act or think. It emerged and clapped Nat up in its black jaws. The prince shrieked as the being swallowed him up and took him like a marionette. As Truth set to hurl the pike straight into the prince's bosom, Nat roared, and a powerful, concise weave sent Nat through the air on a blast of wind from the south. After he cleared the walls, he ran, unnaturally fast, on foot. Story left the Sálverøld to search for her bear. She found it several yards away and mounted it. She looked back at Truth, now on his own bear and heading toward her.

  "Oh, hurry, hurry!" She cried, giving the bear's flanks a hard thrust of her heels. They were ahead, and if they maintained their pace, she hoped they would stay ahead—far ahead.

  #

  Creed squinted his eyes. It was hard to tell through the mist and fog, but he was sure he saw someone or something coming his way. If he could see them, they could see him, so he entered the Sálverøld to confirm it.

  Yes, a brown-gold soul on a bear. He sighed with relief and called out to her, "Story!"

  She stopped. She turned her bear to the right and hurried away.

  "Story, no!" He called out, turning his own bear to chase after her. He caught up with her and rode at her side. She looked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him.

  "What's happened?" He asked.

  She did not reply.

  "Story!" He said, louder.

  "What?" She asked. She instructed her bear to stop and looked at him.

  "Why a
re you crying? What's happened?"

  "Have you ever seen that thing he's going to use to kill Nat?"

  "The… the pike?"

  "Yes. It's as tall as he is, and it's black and pointed and... What a wicked, wicked thing!"

  "He didn't make it, Story. Nat-Scrios did. Nat-Scrios will taste his own violence."

  "I'm going somewhere. Leave me alone," she replied.

  He leaned toward her. "Story, I understand what you're thinking. But, you must believe me, there are things you don't know about. Really and trul—"

  The mad howling bothered their souls and stilled their mouths. She listened for the howl again. Nothing. She peered against the fog for the sign of a figure somewhere.

  "Am I going mad? This is madness, isn't it?"

  "That depends on what is making you think that."

  "The fact that I trust you, but I can't seem to stay away from him. I want to be back home, not here, but I want to find him, too. What is this?"

  "Not madness. It's called femaleness."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Story and Creed sat in a crackling, fire whispering silence. It was nice to be warm. She might have felt peaceful—happy even— if she didn't have this ridiculous compulsion. She struggled to squelch it, but couldn't seem to win.

  "Creed," she said, "Can you take love out of a person? Is that something you can do?"

  He furrowed his brow a moment, thinking. "I don’t know."

  "Would it hurt to try?"

  "You can't tamper with those things when you don't know what you're doing.Very dangerous. The love spirits are so near to the heart, and are often connected to the mind."

  "I'm so tired."

  "Well, go to sleep."

  She groaned. "I’m too embarrassed."

  He shook his head, smiling mildly. "Just go to sleep."

  She lay down and closed her eyes. She felt like a little child who was caught by an adult in a forbidden place. It was humiliating, but the fact that Creed forgave her and dealt with it with such grace, polished him up and set him on a pedestal of reverence. She'd never thought so well of Creed, and he had never been so oblivious to the admiration of a female.

  #

  She faced the bright, golden soul. They whirled round and round in the unending blackness. She was not afraid, she was enamored. Sparks, light, the flowing of spirits, and her own determination filled the gap between them.

  Can’t they just be closer? Somehow? She moved closer. The bonding energy that emanated from them, touched. Her soul experienced a searing pain, burning her from within, ripping through her spirits. She felt the fibers coming undone, the lie inside her soul burst forth. She did not see it, she did not feel it, and she was it.

  Just a little while and it would be over. All of it. She knew now. It was destruction.

  She only hoped that she would be left alone. Don’t try to make again. Let go or else she might become like Hadate.

  She awoke. Someone called her name. She looked across the partition to Creed. He was asleep. She stared up at the ceiling, waiting.

  "Story?" It said.

  Was it in her mind or was it—? She entered the Sálverøld and beheld a wonder that horrified her, defeating the bravery of her soul. An immense figure stood before her, like a tall cloaked man. It had no features or details, except that it seemed ragged and worn.

  "Cree…Cree…," she whispered. The sound would not come out.

  "Creed," she managed to finish the word, but he could not hear her.

  "Don't be afraid," the figure said. "I'm here to help you. I understand you have some friends who are overly protective of you.”

  "Who… who are you?"

  The being made strange, mirthful noises. "I am the Great Soul, and I am here to help you out of this tangled net you're in."

  "The Great Soul?”

  "Let me present the matter to you from my perspective. Do you care about that man across the room?"

  She looked at Creed, then the black figure. She nodded her head.

  "You know that love never fully disappears? You will always have another love in you, and he will always know it. Can you imagine the shame you will have to live with? Should he ever wish to reach into your soul and touch its deepest parts, he will always have to grapple with the love of an unfulfilled destiny.

  "If you give yourself to Nat, you will have saved the world, including this Creed that you care so much for. After the Great Cold has become a memory, you may return to the safety of a solid love. You have enough love for another to change all of this, and yet you could come back to this man's arms after all is done. You could not ask for a better situation.

  "But then Nat would love me, and it would not be right to do that to someone.”

  The figure came closer. A gray mist seeped out of it. She felt the mist moistening the spirits of her face. It said, "Is it right to let the whole world die for your ethical dilemma?"

  "But, is it right that the world will live?" She asked, drawing back in horror at her audacity.

  The dark figure drifted over to Creed.

  "I will take you to Nat, or I will eliminate his rival. It is your choice.”

  "Eliminate? What do you mean?"

  It could not be the Great Soul. It was not very great.

  Before she had time to comprehend what she saw, the dark figure had thrust an arm-like appendage into the sleeping Creed's soul. Creed shivered and rolled over, but his silver cord was hidden inside the black appendage.

  "Make up your mind, or I shall make it for you."

  "No," she whispered. "No, no. Don't. Don't."

  It removed itself from Creed's soul and drifted away.

  "Shall I take you to him?" It asked.

  The creature's display of power engendered such distrust and fear that she felt ready to say nearly anything to avoid its touch. She whimpered a little.

  "May I find him by myself?"

  "Don't be silly." It reached out and touched her.

  Wrapped up in the cold darkness, she flew through the Sálverøld, blind to all around her. Very suddenly, the black thing set her down. She became aware of her surroundings and looked around at them. Strange colors wiggled about her, but darkness reigned. A gold figure, several yards away, caught her eye.

  "Go to him," the creature said.

  She proceeded carefully, watching for the gold soul's response to her. She looked around for the dark so-called Great Soul, but saw nothing. The Gold soul didn't notice her. She approached and touched him.

  #

  After wandering for hours, Nat found a cave in a dead forest, numb, irate, and wretched all at once. What was he supposed to do in this world with feelings like this? Whatever they hoped to get from him so many stars ago, he wasn't ready to give…especially not to them. He lay down in the cave and curled up. He tried to ignore the haranguing voice in his head. He braced himself, awaiting the familiar Slytian torture, but Nat-Scrios surprised him with a retreat. It was still there with him, but silent. The withdrawal, despite his situation, brought a peace unknown to him for many stars.

  How could he sleep? How could he… For the first time in a long time, he fell asleep feeling comparatively tranquil.

  Something touched his soul. He turned to look. A soul like a gauzy, shimmering brown drape hovered over him. He recognized her, but she seemed different.

  "It's you again," he said.

  "Yes."

  "Did anyone else come with you?"

  "No."

  The gauzy brown drape of her soul seemed to shake as though its fibers were unsteady in the world, trembling between existence and disintegration. He had the time to think on and recognize this phenomenon which he had witnessed once before, long, long ago.

  Fear. She was afraid.

  He wished to show her the sympathy he could not find for the other he had once seen in this state, and could not. He must not.

  He sat up. Now was the time if he was to know anything.

  "Tell me the state of things in
our world, and what part do I play? What part do you play?" He asked.

  "It is the Great Cold. You are the expected savior from it. They say that if you and a woman fall in love, the Great Cold will be over. My place in it?"

  He nodded. "Be honest. You're frightened and it's going to keep you from telling the truth if you're not careful. I must know."

  "I am the one who brought you food. Do you remember?"

  "You visited me before that, didn't you?" He asked. He put his palm out to her. She touched it. "Like that," he said. "I remember." He shook his head. "For that reason I must ask you to leave. Nevermind my questions. I don't trust that slyte any more than you trust me. Whatever it plans cannot be for our good. If you have any fondness for humanity, you should leave."

  "I can't."

  "You owe me nothing, good lady. I'm lost, and there's no amount of love that will save me or the world. Go home to someone who already has you in their soul."

  "How would you know if there is someone? Perhaps I am as lost as you. Please, do not send me away."

  He exposed her silver cord and looked into it.

  "Words can lie, but the state of a soul cannot. No matter what you think or feel, the fact remains that the right choice is the Great Soul's choice, and my master is not the Great Soul. It is a little soul great with vengeance. Thousands of stars I have lived with it, and it has made that much painfully clear to me.

  "Flee. As much as I would appreciate the company of a pleasant human being, I know that the right choice is my end."

  "If that is so, I may as well hand you over to those who are trying to kill you. Do you want that?" She asked.

  "I have longed for death for many stars, but it is not in me to offer myself up. Not at the moment, and not with you here. Isn't that strange? To long for death, but be unwilling to face it when it comes? I am sure that when you walk away Nat-Scrios will put an end to me." He laughed bitterly. "Don't look so worried. I would end whether I loved or not, for my body and soul would be destroyed, while the slyte who possesses me would survive. There would be no time to enjoy love." He smiled. "Go home."

  #

  "Story?"

  She lay unmoving.

  Creed shook her unresponsive body. The pupils of her unblinking eyes, the size of a pin point, stared into emptiness.