The Woven End Page 36

  "She's gone. Stars, she's gone! She's so far away she doesn't know I'm here or is… so distracted. Where—?"

  #

  "I can't," she answered. "Someone will be in danger if I do. I have to stay with you."

  "It's the creature, isn't it?"

  "I can't tell you anything about it."

  His soul relaxed like molten gold in a mold.

  "It's mysteriously silent at present. I'm concerned about it. It seems we are both its prisoners, aren't we?"

  She nodded.

  "Don't cry," he said. "As long as we are amiable to each other, it will hold out hope for us, and it will not harm us. Let us stay friends until someone finds us who can undo all of this. That man, I'm certain, will find me again. The slyte's course of action leaves me no other choice but to do what my nature cries out against. I will let the man unravel me. If he could not do it, the slyte would not have reacted so.”

  She shuddered, looking around at the darkness. "Do you feel that awful dread? It is as though something is looming over us, squeezing the life from me. I can hardly breathe."

  "I have felt it for many, many stars," Nat whispered.

  "I’m the son of a great king and possess the Great Soul's authority, yet I am powerless to do anything to stop the suffering of even one person, such as yourself. Is that not a pathetic existence?"

  "It is not your existence that is pathetic, it is your master's. Feeding off of the fear and terror of helpless people like you and I to accomplish a selfish end. I fear I may have already said too much. I cannot know what is happening to those I love. It might be over already." She withdrew and buried her face in her hands.

  "Listen to me," he said, drawing her soul closer to his own. "If they come to destroy me, I don't want you to weep for me. I saw what is in you, and I know, somehow, I have earned a place there. I want you to be glad. By letting that love go, you will have done what is right.”

  With that, he slipped a warm golden hand into her soul. It was a pleasant feeling, and he longed for him to hold her. He located the love spirit that pertained to him and pinched it. It split in two and writhed in a painful, serpentine fashion, like a hooked worm, until it shriveled and dissolved into nothing.

  "What have you done?" She asked, crying as only a soul might not. It hurt terribly and she felt her heart break.

  #

  She gasped. Her eyes flooded black then faded brown. She looked up into Creed's worried face as it melted with relief.

  She sat up, panting, and threw her arms around his neck.

  "Don't touch him!" She screamed.

  The tears on her face rubbed onto his cheek.

  "Frosts, woman! You're going to snap me in half or throttle me!”

  Her brain lost every other signal that passed through it, dropping words, picking them back up again, but never finishing a sentence.

  "It will kill— It will—him—you. We have to—help—keep—you—we have to keep—help you—"

  "Wait now, hold on, quiet, shhh," Creed cooed as he peeled her arms off his neck and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Look at me," he said, pointing at his eyes.

  "Black, shredded, enormous. It said it was the Great Soul, I— it said it was, but Nat said—"

  He frowned. "Where were you?"

  "In a cave—Oh, look please. Keep your eyes open. That thing threatened to kill you if I did not do as it said. Watch out. Watch—"

  That was a scary thought. Creed never imagined that Nat-Scrios would bother them with Truth on its trail.

  He pressed his lips in a line as he studied Story's face. He sighed once, twice, opening and closing his mouth, before saying, "We need to find my dad. Let's go."

  Creed pulled his parka over his head and handed Story hers. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

  "He destroyed my love for him, Creed. He did it for all of us. We can't let that thing kill him or…or your dad either. We have to try something else. We have to! Please, listen to me. Listen!" She tugged her arm away from him. "He is good. We have to try something."

  Creed pressed his finger to his lips and looked back at her with a fierce expression. She shrank back, but nodded.

  "Resist it," he hissed. "Resist it, and come with me, or we're all done for."

  "You weren't there, you don't know. You don't know what pure and… and perfect feelings I have had, and what a warm world is like, and what its like to feel such a mutual love and be close to that person who wants to be with you and you want to be with and—"

  He stepped in uncomfortably close. "You're right. You're right. You know that?" Not a hint of humor, sarcasm or fun hid in those eyes.

  "I wasn't there," he said. "I haven't felt those things. I want to, but— the north wind blast you!—you're not letting me. I'm never going to, am I? You're going to go end the world on us and if, by some miracle, you don't get to him before my dad does, then you will pine forever. Forever for a slyte!"

  "He's a human!"

  "And what are you?" He shouted.

  She stared at him. "Wh—what does that mean?"

  "Are you an animal to be controlled by instinct? Even an animal can be loyal to a mate if it's in them to do so. Use your human senses, woman!" He reached out and grabbed her, hugging her. "This is my warm world. See? Look! No black claws are going to swallow you up here. No slyte has to hide behind my back. I will live and die just as you will. What does your human sense tell you to be right? It's not a choice between me and him. It's a choice between life and death. Have you not understood this yet? You don't have to swim into the net. You don't have to run to the hunter, even if he has the tastiest bait you've ever seen. That's all Nat is. Bait."

  "You can't blame me for what you don't have. Blame yourself. What is a faithful one-mate creature to do when they love someone like you?”

  He snorted. "Nothing I say or do will clean my slate. I’m not the only choice. The thing to do is stay away from him. Let's get out of here," he muttered.

  “Listen to me," she said. "I don't love him anymore. You understand that, right? This is my mind, Creed. My mind has decided that we owe him something."

  They stepped into the cold wind. Creed pulled up his hood and turned to face her.

  "Yes. We owe him death. After ten thousand stars living like that, I think it would be a favor."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Nat stood at the mouth of the cave. Until now, Nat-Scrios had well-used the element of surprise to control Nat. Now, he had to fight with Nat's will, because Nat was no longer surprised. Having gathered his resolve to courage, he could fight. Every step brought the agony of Nat-Scrios's hatred, but he persisted, using all of the power remaining in his emotionally and mentally weakened body to resist complete control. The slyte would not kill him. He was Nat-Scrios's only hope.

  #

  The black cozer sniffed the air.

  Canine.

  #

  They searched for Truth, riding their bears side by side.

  "Are you angry with me?" Story asked.

  "No. Everything you've said is justified," he answered, looking away from her.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes, I'm sure."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Believe me," he replied flatly.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Away from people. If Nat-Scrios is threatening to kill, it is best we stay away from other people. I'm hoping we will stumble upon my dad. It's unlikely, but—"

  She gasped, horrified. "So, it could show up at any time and—?"

  "I'm sorry you went through that, Story. I should have been awake and watching." He breathed hard through his nostrils and cursed at himself.

  "I'm not a child, Creed. What could you have done that I didn't do? Nothing. We would both have been powerless. Don't act like your sex makes you the deciding factor in a victory. No one else thinks that way except for you and your dad."

  He rolled his eyes."You have breasts, a uterus, and ovaries. You are generally smaller, less s
trong, and have a tendency to want to take care of a family and have babies. That's difference enough for me to suspect that the contribution of one of another sex into a problem may very well help." He sighed, perturbed. "You can't convince me that you didn't try to call for me, or at least thought of trying—it's natural.”

  "Maybe I did think to call for you. It's not because you're a man!"

  "You would not be involved in any of this, or even with me, for that matter, if I were not a man."

  "It's not because you're a man, blast it!"

  He leaned in and looked hard at her. "Yes. It is."

  To the north, Story spotted a speck moving through the snow.

  "Creed, do you see that?" She pointed.

  "I do. The question is, who is it?" He ducked into the Sálverøld and flew on to see. It was a gold human soul wrapped in a wolf-like creature. He recoiled and hurried back to Story.

  "It's him. It's Nat."

  Her conscience smote her, but she disregarded it. "What are we going to do?"

  "My dad has excellent tracking skills. If we trail Nat, we are sure to find my dad."

  #

  "Don't force me—"

  "There is nothing you can do to me that I am afraid of anymore," Nat growled.

  "That girl is nearby. Go to her," Nat-Scrios urged.

  "I have my head. My defenses are up. You can't make me do anything. Did you count on insanity to make me your permanent plaything? You wove my mind too well for that, old friend."

  He sniffed at the air for a human scent. He caught a whiff of Story and Creed and, recognizing the scent, disregarded it. He hurried on, hoping to get away from his followers and have clearer air for his search. He caught the scent of an animal. He looked around for its source and saw nothing except—

  A flash of black pounced over the snow, again and again. A black cozer in the middle of the Great Cold.

  He waited for the cozer to approach. It approached without fear and looked up into Nat's black kreev eyes.

  "You're very noble to come looking for me, Nat. Let us make this quick," the cozer said.

  The men pulled their cloaks off and stood before each other, eye to eye.

  "Your face is familiar," Nat said in his tongue.

  Truth replied in the same language, "I'm sure you've seen it. How are you maintaining your composure?"

  "With difficulty," Nat answered, straining at each word. Beads of sweat turned into streams as he fought with the slyte who had redoubled its efforts upon seeing Truth.

  "I'll put an end to it now," Truth said.

  At the verge of the Sálverøld he stopped short when Nat cried out, "Wait! What… what are you?" He squinted and held his head as if it were aching. "Why would I know your face, and why are you the one to take this task? Are you immortal as I am?"

  "I'm immortal as long as I wish to be, but not as you are."

  Tremors traveled up and down Nat's body. He looked up at Truth and stared at his eyes: wild, animal, amiable, blue. He hadn’t seen blue in thousands of years.

  "It is an honor to unravel at your hands, good man, whoever you are. I confess, I’m afraid."

  Truth smiled and kissed Nat's forehead as a king might kiss his son, then stepped back. The tears streamed down his face as his pupils contracted, and the wine-gold soul pulled out the black pike. He saw the slyte, thrashing against its own bond with the human. It no longer wanted to fight Nat, it wanted to escape. Nat sensed this and willed his spirits to cling to the slyte. This must end. He couldn’t hold on to this for very long.

  Then, the worst sound he never dreamed of hearing fell upon his soul's ears, and the shimmering brown soul of Story, tangled and fighting with the blue-gold of Creed, broke free and ran toward them.

  "Noooooooooo!" The preternatural scream flooded the Sálverøld causing the spirits to vibrate and whirl about as it struck them. If he did not hurry, she would be in the way.

  Truth didn't want her to see this, but it would have to be. He pulled the pike back and thrust it forward, only to find that Story intercepted it.

  Creed stopped, shocked. He let out a great puff of air and turned away, his hands spread across his face.

  Nat held Story's soul as her body collapsed onto her bear and slid off into the snow beside him. Her bear grunted and sniffed at its rider, but she did not respond. Not a drop of blood stained the snow.

  Truth cursed furiously to himself as he hurried forward to examine her.

  The attention quickly turned away from Story when Nat looked up at Truth and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, his expression contorted with sorrow and rapture at once.

  The moment happened so fast that there was only a brief moment for the apology's meaning to be grasped.

  The world exploded into white, followed by great waves of color and heat such as no one ever saw, for all were dead before it came, and fell to black. The Great Soul hovered in the nothingness, waiting for its gloating child to step forward.

  Nat-Scrios emerged, blacker than the void, laughing.

  "In case you forgot, the greatest love is an action. It’s just you and me. "

  "You and I could have been friends, Nat-Scrios.”

  Though the slyte recoiled, it did not flee. The Great Soul came close to it and ripped a piece of its fiber away like a rotten rag. The slyte shrieked, but still did not flee. Where would it flee to? All was gone. Slytes, the words, came from every direction. The hissing, whispering sound came with them.

  The Great Soul ripped the piece of the slyte in half and put its human shaped hands into the pieces, like gloves. It looked at the finger shaped spirits and rang its soul like bells in the empty Sálverøld. Laughter.

  “Such a beautiful thing, those humans.”

  It reached up to its own head and dug its fingers into it.

  "I hoped to enjoy life with them, but it seems I must die in the birth so that they may live in a world that is not tinted with sorrow. Here is wisdom, here is true love. They pass without alarm for they 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 them." It smiled, glowing like a rainbow. “They wrote that of me. What will they write of you?”

  It looked up to the sky where the stars, so far away, still shone, and whispered beneath hearing. He pulled away the spirits of the human soul he formed from the fine fabric of the Great Soul and exposed an ocean of silver, pouring out, floating up and away to the stars. The Great Soul had unraveled itself and was no more. The many parts and pieces of the Great Soul disintegrated. There remained nothing except pieces of its greatness, breaking apart and falling into nothing, like shimmering wine gold dust. The slytes swam in the ocean of silver, speaking, and working as they disappeared into expanse above.

  Nat-Scrios looked up at those highest stars and watched, waited, wondered. A flicker of light arrested its attention. It focused long and hard on the place where the flicker appeared until the flicker became a steady stream of blinding light. Another stream came from elsewhere. Then another, and another…It burned the slyte.

  What terror was poured out of the Great Soul that would turn back from the stars and strike the slyte with this acidic spirit?

  Nat-Scrios gasped, "In the mind he holds all of us."

  No, the slyte had not considered this. With all the wisdom of ageless, ancient slytes on its side, it failed to recognize that the Great Soul had a secret weakness which the stars made into strength. At once, failure and victory, the Great Soul had formed everything, all the way down to the intricacies of emotion, mind, and spirit, through a carefully laid out plan in which was found no flaw. The finest workmanship was that of Truth's, and it withstood the assault of every foolish man and slyte, even when love and faith were weary and—above all—when there seemed to be no hope for the Great Soul itself, or its children.

  In a world where the Truth was unknown and forgotten by the people, the Truth never forgot. Those who loved it passed without alarm because it, too, l
oved, it knew and it held all. The Great Soul was dead to consciousness, but would yet live in everything.

  With an eery, inhuman howl, the woven end became a loosed beginning. Restricted, it destroyed, loosed, it created.

  #

  Creed laughed out loud as he held the crying baby girl up to look at her. The midwife pulled back the curtain to let the Starshine in.

  Story smiled. The pain was over, and they were enjoying their baby. Creed set the baby on Story's chest again and brushed black hair off her dampened brow to kiss it.

  "Have you decided on a name?" Story asked.

  "Me? You are the one who has thought so much about this."

  "You deserve it."

  He looked at the baby's face as it rooted about, searching for a meal. Everything about life still carried itself with beauty, perhaps more beauty than before. The Great Soul did not breathe the beauty of nature any longer, but it was there, shining through the eyes, singing in the cries, surging through those fat, twitching arms and legs.

  Creed smiled. Everything was different, and yet all was the same. Everything changed and yet all was unmoved. His father's work stood firm, his wisdom remained, his signature was emblazoned across the whole of the globe, and this phase of spiritual existence would stand forever. Tales would be told, songs sung, life lived. Creed knew now what the name should be.

  "What better name than Legend?"

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thank you to Ruth Behnke and Britta Sorenson, my first and most enthusiastic readers.

  Thank you to my husband, Aaron, for helping me to use my wings properly, and for his

  childhood dream to ride bears.

  And thank you, reader, for enjoying my fantasy with me.