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Previous Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 36: Corny

Next Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 38: A step

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CHAPTER 37: RENDEZVOUS

“We should go back.” Malia said, “Aldous and Bayard sent me to retrieve you. They were worried about you.”

“What a leader I am.” Gorken hung his head, but it wasn’t shame that filled him. His gaze feasted on the grass and flowers by his feet; even in its humble foundation the forest was beautiful, down to every singular leaf resting on the dirt. What had he been looking at, when he had fled Kadem’s tree? At nothing, clearly, since he had failed to notice how kind the scenery around him was. The wind hummed encouragingly, the foliage sang its support.

Before talking to Malia he had been blind to all of it, too consumed by looking inward to afford a glance at the world. He only had to hush his mind and listen to realize the trees were his allies. They had always been. When had he forgotten? It didn’t matter. Now that he had revealed his ugly cowardice to Malia, and she had stayed by him nonetheless, the earth spoke louder, the air was richer. Life was gentler.

“I’ll carry you back inside.” He offered when he spotted Malia’s legs trembling slightly.

“No. I need to regain use of my legs as soon as possible.” She waved her hand dismissively, “Go on ahead. I’ll return at my own pace.”

“Then we’ll return at your pace.” He smiled.

“You’ll get bored.” She smiled back.

“I’m a patient man.”

Gorken’s indulgent company both shortened the distance to Kadem’s home and invigorated Malia’s efforts; crawling through the soil ceased to be an option, after all. His accommodating rhythm soothed her mood as much as it quickened her heartbeats. They were back before she could relish the experience.

“Weren’t you supposed to cheer him up?” Aldous questioned Malia as soon as her red nose and puffy eyes caught his attention.

“Shut up. I succeeded.” Her flushed cheeks sabotaged the cocky tone she was going for.

“Aldous, Bayard.” Gorken was still standing near the door, “I owe you an apology. No leader should run from his men. A commander shows his worth during times of uncertainty… and instead I abandoned you to sort out my own feelings. I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Bayard replied, “Boss, when Breya died you mourned by my side. No words were needed. You just stayed with me. I promised I would do the same for you, always. I will not forgive you if you turn me into an oath breaker. That is all.”

“Sharp as usual.” Aldous added, “I’m not like Bayard, boss. I’ll leave as soon as you don’t want me with you… But do keep in mind… I decided to follow you because I knew stuff was wrong with you, from the very beginning. That’s why I stuck with you.”

“…I don’t deserve your loyalty.” Gorken placed firm hands on the shoulders of his comrades, “But I want it anyway. I’ll keep it, and I’ll treasure it.” He ended his statement by ruffling their hair.

Gorken spent the subsequent minutes disclosing to his friends his nightmares, his worries and the power the maiden had exerted over him. Their openly comforting and pragmatic responses upheld his belief: he did not deserve them. But they were his; his to enjoy, and his to protect.

It didn’t escape him that something was amiss with Aldous. The redhead’s demeanor might have passed as unchanged to someone less observant, but for his close companions, the modest variation of his tempo and the evasiveness of his nervous eyes were overt signs. And yet no one said a thing. They assumed, and hoped, that after the bold irruption of the maiden and her dragon it was normal to show unrest. They all felt it.

Lyra, Hedera and Licorice sweetened the conversation when they brought in the promised refreshments: the rose tea and the honeyed wild berries were as welcome as the trio’s reassuring return.

“I’ll be honest,” Hedera leaned on the wooden wall, “I never would have expected to see the dragon at the beck and call of a human. Not that the pale woman was like any human I’ve met before.”

“So you know the dragon?” Gorken asked.

“Conceptually at least.” Licorice sat at the table, “We had never met him, but we knew of his existence. Balance is found in the spectrum between extremes: if the weakest prey exists, so must the strongest predator. That is the purpose of the Dragon, to represent one extreme in service of nature’s balance. Nothing more. Only one dragon can exist at a time, and he’s not supposed to interfere with the flow of life. His desertion from his natural imperative is alarming.”

“Alarming, sure,” Hedera crossed her arms, “but it makes sense as a result, or maybe as a cause, of this kingdom’s absurd state. If the dragon can be swayed into action by a human woman, then anything goes.”

“Great,” Aldous rested his forehead on the table, “so you’re as lost as we are.”

“Hardly.” Licorice’s smirk was a rare sight, “Humans have a unique talent to lose their way entirely. I never get bored of witnessing it.” Her golden eyes loitered resolutely on the freckled man.

“It’s hard to know where to even start.” Malia grabbed their transcribed pages, scanning what they had written down so far.

“Not if we set a simple goal.” Lyra joined in warmly, “Even the most daunting of tasks can be broken down into digestible pieces; take it from someone who routinely cleaned castle halls. If I’m not mistaken, we wish to break the spell that binds the kingdom. So the most basic question is: what did the spell do? What was its purpose? We can start by deducing that from observing its results.”

“Lyra,” Malia grabbed the blonde’s hand, “did I already mention that I missed you?”

“I believe you did.” Lyra couldn’t stop herself from chuckling.

“Observing its results…” Gorken repeated, “We’ll have to defer to our magic teacher to understand the spell.” He nodded towards Malia.

She nodded back, “I think it’s clear that the spell was meant to suppress individual will. ‘Awakened humans’ such as you guys and the other members of the rebellion are just scarce exceptions. Most of the population is restrained by the curse, unable to think or feel on their own. Immortals are simply those who weren’t affected by the spell, it would seem.”

“That also explains why humans, awakened or not, are incapable of using magic.” Lyra arranged the pages, unable to contain her compulsion to keep everything orderly, “Magic is intrinsically linked to individual will. If a curse is inhibiting it, there’s no room for magic to develop.”

“So we have the what,” Malia kept going, “and our island kingdom has natural borders, so the where was easy enough to define for the magicians. Given that immortals rule, it’s safe to assume the why was to seize power. But how did they define the targets of the spell? How did they choose who got to keep their will and who didn’t? Such a massive curse was only possible because silver children are supposed to be insanely powerful… I don’t know how you would limit such a general, colossal application of magic… To cast a spell is to act; if there’s a rock on the ground and someone pushes it forward, we can push it back to return it to its original place. Reversing a spell should be much the same… but when the scale is so grand it’s hard to conceive, how do you undo it…?”

“You don’t.” Kadem burst into their discussion. It was odd for her to arrive unannounced, when ordinarily her presence was impossible to ignore. Had she been purposely hiding it? Or was she hiding something else?

“I do commend you for pushing your little brains this far.” The silver witch stood over them, “But it’s far enough. It was one thing to seek liberation from oppressing nobility, as insurgents do. This is thoroughly different. Don’t let your lives fizzle out while partaking in matters that surpass you. You’re no silver children, you’re no dragons… But you’re strong enough to live a comfortable human life amidst the rebellion, are you not? Immortals will still abuse and steal and kill, but those in power will always do that wherever you are, no matter how much you may fight and how many you may save. Focus on your life, and not on that of the nebulous ‘kingdom’. Go home, children.”

Malia held her tongue. She was prone to spouting the first thing that came to her mind, but this wasn’t the moment to do that. Instead she waited, she watched, she perceived. The silence had much to say, when she kept her mouth closed and her eyes wide open. Hedera and Licorice were visibly offended by Kadem’s condescendence, but the latter deterred the former from making a fuss. Gorken and Bayard were unfazed, likely scanning the reaction of the rest; their stubborn resolve was as solid as it was quiet. Aldous and Lyra had their eyes on the floor. Malia was familiar with Lyra’s polite way of avoiding conflict… but Aldous’ dropped gaze was uncommon, and thus hard to parse.

Malia took a deep breath. Then she spoke, “Once I told you the world is a scary place full of suffering. I said we were free to look the other way, but that the ache of doing nothing, the regret of not moving when we had a chance to… that maybe those were the only pains we would always have the power to avoid.” She stared into Kadem’s silver eyes, “My opinion hasn’t changed.”

Her friends’ quietude fortified Malia’s words.

Kadem’s eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to look irritated, “…Suit yourselves. I warned you. Don’t complain to me afterward. This is the time to leave… You won’t get to run away later.” They weren’t surprised by Kadem’s aloof attitude. They weren’t surprised, either, to see her tears were as silvery as the rest of her.

Description

Previous Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 36: Corny

Next Chapter: ENDLESS Chapter 38: A step

All Chapters HERE .

Watch the Trailer: ENDLESS Trailer

CHAPTER 37: RENDEZVOUS

“We should go back.” Malia said, “Aldous and Bayard sent me to retrieve you. They were worried about you.”

“What a leader I am.” Gorken hung his head, but it wasn’t shame that filled him. His gaze feasted on the grass and flowers by his feet; even in its humble foundation the forest was beautiful, down to every singular leaf resting on the dirt. What had he been looking at, when he had fled Kadem’s tree? At nothing, clearly, since he had failed to notice how kind the scenery around him was. The wind hummed encouragingly, the foliage sang its support.

Before talking to Malia he had been blind to all of it, too consumed by looking inward to afford a glance at the world. He only had to hush his mind and listen to realize the trees were his allies. They had always been. When had he forgotten? It didn’t matter. Now that he had revealed his ugly cowardice to Malia, and she had stayed by him nonetheless, the earth spoke louder, the air was richer. Life was gentler.

“I’ll carry you back inside.” He offered when he spotted Malia’s legs trembling slightly.

“No. I need to regain use of my legs as soon as possible.” She waved her hand dismissively, “Go on ahead. I’ll return at my own pace.”

“Then we’ll return at your pace.” He smiled.

“You’ll get bored.” She smiled back.

“I’m a patient man.”

Gorken’s indulgent company both shortened the distance to Kadem’s home and invigorated Malia’s efforts; crawling through the soil ceased to be an option, after all. His accommodating rhythm soothed her mood as much as it quickened her heartbeats. They were back before she could relish the experience.

“Weren’t you supposed to cheer him up?” Aldous questioned Malia as soon as her red nose and puffy eyes caught his attention.

“Shut up. I succeeded.” Her flushed cheeks sabotaged the cocky tone she was going for.

“Aldous, Bayard.” Gorken was still standing near the door, “I owe you an apology. No leader should run from his men. A commander shows his worth during times of uncertainty… and instead I abandoned you to sort out my own feelings. I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Bayard replied, “Boss, when Breya died you mourned by my side. No words were needed. You just stayed with me. I promised I would do the same for you, always. I will not forgive you if you turn me into an oath breaker. That is all.”

“Sharp as usual.” Aldous added, “I’m not like Bayard, boss. I’ll leave as soon as you don’t want me with you… But do keep in mind… I decided to follow you because I knew stuff was wrong with you, from the very beginning. That’s why I stuck with you.”

“…I don’t deserve your loyalty.” Gorken placed firm hands on the shoulders of his comrades, “But I want it anyway. I’ll keep it, and I’ll treasure it.” He ended his statement by ruffling their hair.

Gorken spent the subsequent minutes disclosing to his friends his nightmares, his worries and the power the maiden had exerted over him. Their openly comforting and pragmatic responses upheld his belief: he did not deserve them. But they were his; his to enjoy, and his to protect.

It didn’t escape him that something was amiss with Aldous. The redhead’s demeanor might have passed as unchanged to someone less observant, but for his close companions, the modest variation of his tempo and the evasiveness of his nervous eyes were overt signs. And yet no one said a thing. They assumed, and hoped, that after the bold irruption of the maiden and her dragon it was normal to show unrest. They all felt it.

Lyra, Hedera and Licorice sweetened the conversation when they brought in the promised refreshments: the rose tea and the honeyed wild berries were as welcome as the trio’s reassuring return.

“I’ll be honest,” Hedera leaned on the wooden wall, “I never would have expected to see the dragon at the beck and call of a human. Not that the pale woman was like any human I’ve met before.”

“So you know the dragon?” Gorken asked.

“Conceptually at least.” Licorice sat at the table, “We had never met him, but we knew of his existence. Balance is found in the spectrum between extremes: if the weakest prey exists, so must the strongest predator. That is the purpose of the Dragon, to represent one extreme in service of nature’s balance. Nothing more. Only one dragon can exist at a time, and he’s not supposed to interfere with the flow of life. His desertion from his natural imperative is alarming.”

“Alarming, sure,” Hedera crossed her arms, “but it makes sense as a result, or maybe as a cause, of this kingdom’s absurd state. If the dragon can be swayed into action by a human woman, then anything goes.”

“Great,” Aldous rested his forehead on the table, “so you’re as lost as we are.”

“Hardly.” Licorice’s smirk was a rare sight, “Humans have a unique talent to lose their way entirely. I never get bored of witnessing it.” Her golden eyes loitered resolutely on the freckled man.

“It’s hard to know where to even start.” Malia grabbed their transcribed pages, scanning what they had written down so far.

“Not if we set a simple goal.” Lyra joined in warmly, “Even the most daunting of tasks can be broken down into digestible pieces; take it from someone who routinely cleaned castle halls. If I’m not mistaken, we wish to break the spell that binds the kingdom. So the most basic question is: what did the spell do? What was its purpose? We can start by deducing that from observing its results.”

“Lyra,” Malia grabbed the blonde’s hand, “did I already mention that I missed you?”

“I believe you did.” Lyra couldn’t stop herself from chuckling.

“Observing its results…” Gorken repeated, “We’ll have to defer to our magic teacher to understand the spell.” He nodded towards Malia.

She nodded back, “I think it’s clear that the spell was meant to suppress individual will. ‘Awakened humans’ such as you guys and the other members of the rebellion are just scarce exceptions. Most of the population is restrained by the curse, unable to think or feel on their own. Immortals are simply those who weren’t affected by the spell, it would seem.”

“That also explains why humans, awakened or not, are incapable of using magic.” Lyra arranged the pages, unable to contain her compulsion to keep everything orderly, “Magic is intrinsically linked to individual will. If a curse is inhibiting it, there’s no room for magic to develop.”

“So we have the what,” Malia kept going, “and our island kingdom has natural borders, so the where was easy enough to define for the magicians. Given that immortals rule, it’s safe to assume the why was to seize power. But how did they define the targets of the spell? How did they choose who got to keep their will and who didn’t? Such a massive curse was only possible because silver children are supposed to be insanely powerful… I don’t know how you would limit such a general, colossal application of magic… To cast a spell is to act; if there’s a rock on the ground and someone pushes it forward, we can push it back to return it to its original place. Reversing a spell should be much the same… but when the scale is so grand it’s hard to conceive, how do you undo it…?”

“You don’t.” Kadem burst into their discussion. It was odd for her to arrive unannounced, when ordinarily her presence was impossible to ignore. Had she been purposely hiding it? Or was she hiding something else?

“I do commend you for pushing your little brains this far.” The silver witch stood over them, “But it’s far enough. It was one thing to seek liberation from oppressing nobility, as insurgents do. This is thoroughly different. Don’t let your lives fizzle out while partaking in matters that surpass you. You’re no silver children, you’re no dragons… But you’re strong enough to live a comfortable human life amidst the rebellion, are you not? Immortals will still abuse and steal and kill, but those in power will always do that wherever you are, no matter how much you may fight and how many you may save. Focus on your life, and not on that of the nebulous ‘kingdom’. Go home, children.”

Malia held her tongue. She was prone to spouting the first thing that came to her mind, but this wasn’t the moment to do that. Instead she waited, she watched, she perceived. The silence had much to say, when she kept her mouth closed and her eyes wide open. Hedera and Licorice were visibly offended by Kadem’s condescendence, but the latter deterred the former from making a fuss. Gorken and Bayard were unfazed, likely scanning the reaction of the rest; their stubborn resolve was as solid as it was quiet. Aldous and Lyra had their eyes on the floor. Malia was familiar with Lyra’s polite way of avoiding conflict… but Aldous’ dropped gaze was uncommon, and thus hard to parse.

Malia took a deep breath. Then she spoke, “Once I told you the world is a scary place full of suffering. I said we were free to look the other way, but that the ache of doing nothing, the regret of not moving when we had a chance to… that maybe those were the only pains we would always have the power to avoid.” She stared into Kadem’s silver eyes, “My opinion hasn’t changed.”

Her friends’ quietude fortified Malia’s words.

Kadem’s eyebrows furrowed in an attempt to look irritated, “…Suit yourselves. I warned you. Don’t complain to me afterward. This is the time to leave… You won’t get to run away later.” They weren’t surprised by Kadem’s aloof attitude. They weren’t surprised, either, to see her tears were as silvery as the rest of her.