Chương 22: Light

Shrike stands in her and Martin's backyard, holding a projection of a macuahuitl. She practices as she remembers, though she never learned much. Not needing a shield and relying mostly on ranged projections makes her fighting style unusual to the typical methods, but she slowly goes through the universal sweeping and parrying motions.

"So were you some high ranking noble or priestess?" Martin asks, watching her movements carefully. There's definitely some familiarity there, but it's obvious she never learned how to properly use a sword. It must be an intimidation thing: mostly to scare enemies away from getting too close.

"I was an eagle warrior. So yes, in a sense, to both."

"Funny. Once again, you're a predatory bird. First an eagle, now a shrike." She pivots on her foot.

"I suppose that is fairly humorous." Martin vanishes into the house for a time, before returning while holding a noticeably dented steel training sword that has sat unused since the day he started hunting professionally.

"Wanna spar?"

"Assuming you are not using 'spar' in the same terminology as Norwood, then I would not mind." Martin takes an ox guard.

"It's been a while since I did HEMA. Take it easy on me, mighty eagle warrior." Shrike shakes her head with a smile.

"Please do not call me that. I renounced the position, remember."

"How about Fallen Eagle, then?" he jokes, readying for her attack. Shrike takes a lunging chop down, missing, and blocking Martin's response with the flat of her sword.

"Shrike will suffice, goofball."

"Goofball? That's not your normal way of talking."

"No, I suppose it is not. I am not doing it intentionally, but I believe facets of my speech are changing."

"That's interesting. Nothing wrong with it, pretty normal for people to change over time." With a simple feint, he taps his sword to her gut.

"Also, I got you."

"Barrier." Martin laughs, moving to a longpoint stance and backing up.

"You can't just say barrier every time I tag you." Shrike moves in with a slice. Martin easily counters, as Shrike takes him into a grapple. Martin reflexively flicks a knife from his hip and holds the hilt of it to Shrike's neck.

"Gotcha again."

"That is cheating!" Shrike says with a laugh.

"There's no cheating in battle, goofball, especially after your little barrier thing."

"Oh?" She projects a few spikes above her head.

"Then this is no probl- ack!" Her leg is swept with ease, though Martin catches her by the collar right before she hits the ground.

"Looks like I've slain the mighty Fallen Eagle." His broad smile. His strength. The dexterity of the save. His eyes. His playful banter. The fact he caught her instead of letting her hit the soft ground, thinking of her first even in victory. Vibrant, vast, unshaken soul. A sense of an impending something washes over her, that she only faintly recognizes.

"Martin." She confesses, her face flushing.

"I am feeling... hot." He helps her up.

"What does that mean? Aren't you always..." he trails off, eyes widening.

"Oh. Oh!"

"Installing the air conditioner first was an inspired decision." Shrike says, catching her breath.

"Yeah. Let's just hope nobody questions why we already have it in at the start of April." Shrike laughs, light and pure, holding his hand as she cuddles in close. She makes sure her thermoregulating outfit is still cool on the outside, despite the activity heating her up more than usual.

"I love you, Martin."

"I love you too, Shrike." He leans in close, pressing his forehead against hers as their fingers interlock. Ximena closes the door behind herself, leaving the non-humans she's once again gathered alone. Isopod the gargoyle, Shrike the kynde, Damselfly the haltija, and Shrike again, but wearing mirrored glasses.

"This is... somewhat upsetting" Shrike says to the other Shrike. Caribou hoarsely spits out laughter, as it transforms back into the ijiraq it is, taking off its sunglasses and revealing sideways red eyes.

"It is incredibly rewarding to hear that."

"Ass." Isopod smiles at Caribou.

"Oh, Shrike! How's the kynde case coming?" Shrike groans.

"Poor. We have no leads. We know they are a kynde, that they were active near sunset, and that they sought to avoid having their likeness recorded." Caribou leans in a bit.

"Interesting... I had met a strange being in the spirit world recently. Less of a tourist than you. He was a black fog I did not recognize, and said he was happy to meet another person instead of 'just humans'. The implication being he is also connected to this world, and geographically close." Shrike furrows her brow.

"Caribou, would you be willing to deliver a question?"

"Potentially. The spirit world is not a place for mortal affairs, so I will ask nothing accusatory," it says with wariness.

"Would you ask him what he is?" It takes a moment to think.

"Mmm. Fine. That is all I will ask, though. It is a sacred place, not an interrogation room."

"Thank you, truly." Isopod sharply turns his head, making Damselfly jump.

"Never gets old." Isopod says.

"That's so mean!" Damselfly says, playfully swatting at the stone creature with a tiny hand. Shrike smiles at the playful atmosphere.

"I am happy to have met you all. Ximena was successful in bringing us together."

"I agree. You are all entertaining," Caribou adds.

"Oh god." Isopod covers his mouth in mock horror.

"Caribou complimented us." Caribou approaches the blur.

"We meet again."

"We do!" he replies.

"I forgot what our last conversation was about."

"As do I," it lies.

"Tell me, I have not seen you here before recently. Are you an ascetic or such?"

"Nope, guess again."

"A kynde, perhaps?"

"That was impressive! How'd you know?"

"You have one foot in, one foot out. Like myself. Many kyndes, in my experience, are split in such a way. Although you seem more spirit world inclined."

"Yeah. It's easier than dealing with humans. There's so many down there now. By the way, I'm actually looking for someone. Another kynde, if you can believe it. Hibernates for long periods, but she woke up recently. I've been trying to meet her for well over ten thousand years now. Last time we met was... do you remember the things with the trunks and tusks? Around when those all died from invasive humans."

"If I see a kynde, I can relay it to you."

"Thanks, buddy." Shrike gets a private message from Caribou in the middle of the night. She wipes her eyes, and reads it. Then she reads it again. With frantic typing, she replies immediately. SC: What do you mean by "looking for me?" She waits nervously for the response. Caribou explains the entire conversation, followed by asking to keep it anonymous. It expresses doubt that Damselfly would be able to say nothing.

Shrike assures it she will stay silent, as she puts the phone down, and spends the rest of the night gazing up at the popcorn ceiling and finding constellations in the abstract patterns. When Martin finally wakes up, Shrike wastes no time. She starts talking before Martin has a chance to shake off last night's sleep, making her repeat everything more slowly. Martin thinks for a moment, taking it all in, before pulling out a notebook and writing down the new information in addition to the old.

"I'm going to talk to Ximena, Fennel, Ferret, and Possum. See if any of them have ever heard of anything like this."

"You cannot uncover my source."

"Shrike, this is important. No one will care if-" This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"I made a promise to it, and I seek to keep my vow." Martin takes a long breath.

"You're not making this easy. I'll just say 'a friend in the spirit world'."

"Thank you." Martin takes his phone. He doesn't ask Shrike if she remembers the other kynde from somewhere. Obviously she didn't, or she would have said something. Unless...

"Shrike. Did the blur specifically mention the mastodon thing, or was it something Caribou added for embellishment?"

"Specifically."

"That lines up, then. Shrike. This is going to sound crazy, but... I think this won't get solved until we crack open your memory more."

"You believe I know this other kynde?"

"The timeline matches perfectly. Odds are yes, you do know it. Or rather, you did."

"The mystery is within me, then."

"Seems so. You have a vague understanding of where your mementos came from already, and they seem linked to you... If getting into a very real duel with Norwood triggered your memories of being in a warrior culture, then we can assume the other memories will be triggered in similar ways. You have artifacts from other points in time, right?" Shrike hugs herself softly.

"I suppose. This is also information you cannot share. It is... deeply important."

"Of course, Shrike. I would never." She takes a deep breath, before explaining every one of the artifacts she has collected.

"There is a flint spearpoint I constructed, referred to as a Clovis point currently. That would be from when I met the other kynde. It is the haziest and oldest of my memories.

"Next is a very fragile piece of bone on a string, once a fishing hook. I remember being in a playful argument with a friend about who was the better fisherwoman. I remember winning, but that is all.

"I know many pieces are missing from what remains of my collection, or perhaps I merely did not add to it for thousands of years. I have existed for a vast stretch of time, logically more should exist than what there is. But those two are all the sole remnants of my hunter-gatherer time.

"The next piece is a stone glyph in the shape of a jaguar taken from a temple wall. I know it is from a favorite story of mine involving a game, told by a close friend.

"You know where the obsidian originates from, so we may skip over it.

"The llama-shaped jar is a conopa. I remember they were usually buried, but I had unearthed it at some point. There... is someone I remember in the briefest glimpses, who I hope to remember fully. Someone important, but not the kynde.

"Finally is a coin, fairly modern. From my last cycle. I know it has little meaning, and that is why I kept it." Martin doesn't write anything down, out of respect for her privacy, instead committing it to memory.

"Thank you, Shrike, for sharing that with me."

"Yes." A strange thing to be thanked for, she thinks.

"You are welcome."

"If I may, the coin is probably easy to find the origin for. It might point us to where the memory is from."

"Of course. Let me retrieve it. I... would still prefer being the only person to handle it."

"Not a problem. Are you sure you're comfortable with this, Shrike? We can find the other kynde through different methods, probably." Shrike's face scrunches up.

"This is the most efficient and sensical. Additionally... I would like to know who I was." He nods in affirmation, before snagging her close to him and giving her a long hug.

"Let's take it to a guy I know." Shrike takes a hesitant step behind Martin into an antique coin show, dozens of vendors showing what's for sale. Martin takes Shrike to one display, similar to the all the others, which is operated by a nondescript man in a plaid shirt and a newsboy cap talking to a potential customer. Upon seeing Martin, he rudely shoos away the collector.

"Been a while, hunter," he says while extending a hand.

"King." He shakes his hand firmly.

"This is my partner, Shrike."

"Mhmm. So what is it this time? Last time you were here, you dropped a flattened bottle cap on the table and asked where it was minted."

"Yeah, I'm an idiot, all three of us know that by now. Shrike has a coin that's been in her family for a while, and she wants to know what it is." He gestures to Shrike, who has been diligently holding the coin between her hands the entire drive. She hesitantly extends it out, but jerks it away as King goes to take it.

"I apologize, but I must insist upon none but myself handling it." King flicks an irritated glance at Martin.

"Uh-huh. So where's your family from, Shrike?"

"I... do not know."

"Okay, and where were you born?" Shrike glances at Martin, then back to King, staying silent. King sighs in annoyance.

"You want to explain what's going on, hunter?" Martin looks to Shrike for confirmation, who gently nods.

"Yeah. So Shrike's a really old magical beast, but she forgets things, and the coin is from sometime in her past. We're trying to find out where and when."

"Then just say that next time. Shrike, right? Hold it out, I won't touch." She does so, and he takes a five second look.

"1835 Spanish dollar. Global currency, but used on this continent in Mexico and southern states especially. Doesn't narrow it down much on its own. Thing is, its in nearly perfect condition. Must have been well taken care of, and not jingling around in a pocket full of coins. I'd wager Shrike got it within a few years of minting. Which places it before Mexican independence was recognized but after it was pretty much established. Also before they started minting coins.

Shrike, do you remember the language you were speaking?" Shrike thinks deeply about it.

"It was functionally the same as the current language we're speaking. I remember the word 'taxes' being used often."

"Texas?" King asks.

"No..." Shrike says reflexively, before taking a long moment to think.

"... yes."

"Republic of Texas, then. I'd suggest looking into it. Not the whole area they claimed, but the parts they actually governed. You remember ports? Boats?"

"No."

"You would have remembered boats if you were near Galveston. Good luck, but that's all I got."

"Thanks," Martin says.

"This was a huge help. What do I owe you?"

"$500, or $300 and an explanation. You two aren't a thing, right?" Shrike replies with "No" simultaneously with Martin's "Yes." They exchange a brief look, and Shrike affirms a "Yes." King scoffs.

"Knew it. Looks like you bagged pretty good game there, hunter. I bet you already have a mount picked out." He winks at Martin, who turns a little red. Shrike cocks her head.

"He is not intending to slaughter me, I believe. That would make our nights together uncomfortable for both parties." King breaks out in loud laughter, holding his stomach, as the vendor to the right of him looks at him with concern. King wipes a tear from his eye as Martin awkwardly hides his eyes under his hand.

"She's funny!" King asserts.

"Good. You're too tense all the time, hunter." Shrike looks at the coin somberly once she is back in the Jeep.

"I doubt the coin's memory will be of much worth, but I hope it will bring about older ones."

"Me too, Shrike."

"Texas. It is familiar now that I have said it more. Are we doing a road trip?"

"Yep. Unfortunately."

"Is Texas unpleasant?"

"For us. Place is absolutely crawling with magical beasts lately. Ranchers are literally given pamphlets on how to deal with the more common ones. Most people go their whole lives without seeing magical beasts outside of captivity or on rare occasions, but these guys are dealing with them regularly. It's ridiculous." Shrike observes his frustration, but can't figure out where it comes from.

"How does this affect us?"

"It just will. Trust me. We'll get roped into something. I always do whenever there's a shortage of hunters, and Texas's MBR can't keep up with the influx." Shrike naps peacefully in the back seat, as the sound of intense metal music pounds over the speaker. Despite his repeated suggestions, Shrike has asserted that the back set is better for her blanket nest. Her singular duffel is packed, stored in the back with Martin's three.

"Martin," she asks, half-asleep.

"Shrike."

"In retrospect, an airplane would be superior, correct?"

"You don't have a valid government ID. And no, a hunting license won't cut it."

"I take it to mean one is required for air travel. Unfortunate."

"Yeah. It is. We have about 24 hours of driving before we reach Houston, remember. Six hour driving shifts. I've already cleared you for entry across state lines as well, so no problems there. We will be driving through Navajo reserved land for a while, though, so be on your best behavior there. Hunters aren't looked upon well in Diné culture... Hopefully, we won't have to stop at all." Shrike adjusts her head against the blankets, finding a firmer bundle to lay it on.

"Do I require a driving license?"

"Not if we don't get pulled over. If we do get pulled over... we won't get pulled over, right?" They stop for the night at a hotel in Albuquerque. Martin uses his government payment card for the night, explaining to Shrike that this is technically what they're supposed to be doing. The beds are very, very soft. Martin flops into one, exhaling as much as the bed does.

"You need a sleeping bag?"

"I am fine here." She plugs her outfit into the wall, and curls up to sleep. Exactly like a cat, Martin thinks. Ridiculously adorable. He quietly steps out of the room, planning to get a late night snack from the gas station across the road. Shrike would want to join if he woke her, but as much as he loves her, he's always been an introvert. Nothing wrong with a little time to himself. As he reaches the lobby, he sees a nearly identical pair of men in black suits and dark glasses, standing ominously by the wall.

They study people as they pass by, their heads following them in unison.

"For God's sake..." Martin mumbles under his breath, as he quietly marches over to them.

"Hey. You two, follow me." He flashes his license, and subtly brings them to a secluded stairwell. Once alone and with the door closed, Martin claps his hands together.

"New arrivals?"

"What?" one of the men asks, in poorly rehearsed surprise.

"The outfits, the vibe. You're lunar, yeah? Come from the dark side to see the sights?"

"No," the other replies.

"Yes the hell you are..." He checks his phone to see the time.

"I don't blame you, liquid water is beautiful. Tourism guide is outdated as hell, though. You're both going to want to change. Try something similar to what I'm wearing, and not matching each other. You should keep the glasses, though." One of them shifts awkwardly, making a series of facial expressions at the other before looking back to Martin.

"If we were lunar spirits, we would thank you for the advice, because people would have been looking at us strangely."

"You'd be welcome." He winks, and heads outside. Now he really wants something to eat. Shrike is in the cold woods of the spirit world, as she usually is in her dreams. She is not alone. Caribou is laying in the snow, looking up. Shrike lays down next to it.

"I realize I have never observed the sky here." Shrike says.

"Funny, is it not? The exact same stars." Caribou seems fully relaxed. She stays silent for a moment.

"Are you dead?" Caribou laughs in its usual spluttering way.

"No. I am not. Not more so than usual."

"May I ask why you are visiting me tonight?" Shrike turns her head to see Caribou, whose eyes remain fixed on the stars.

"In truth? I am lonely."

"Is your loneliness for a specific reason, or generally?"

"Let me pose a question, to answer your own. Ijirait, by nature, are brutal creatures. We are an embodiment of the cruelness and harshness of our environment, half-spirit and half-flesh. Perhaps you've heard the old stories, where we would take young children into the driving snow, and abandon them. Though we rarely tell this to outsiders, it is where ijirait are born: from the death of a human child. Morbidly poetic, though brutal. Tell me, Shrike, do my people deserve to die out?

Or must more children die to feed our survival?" Shrike looks up at the sky.

"I do not know."

"To this day, I do not know either. My innate lack of cold and unforgiving survival instinct estranged me from my people. I stowed away aboard a whaling vessel some time ago, and eventually arrived here. Yet I am as my lineage, callous and cruel in many ways. Despite this, I see humans as relatively intelligent creatures, and more importantly, ones which can truly suffer in a way animals cannot. An animal does not know what life and death are, but humans can be faced with mortality.

Shrike, do you see humans as worthy of life?"

"I do," she says without pause.

"Potentially more deserving than magical beasts. There is distributed magic to them, terrifying and vast. Something I have noticed is that there are countless magical creatures that exist solely as humanity's byproducts. Everyone participating within our group message is, in their varying ways. If humans are themselves the apex of life radiating outward and spawning us, or simply a larval form of something greater, I do not know. All I understand is that they are uniquely suited to the physical world."

Caribou takes a moment to digest Shrike's words, eyes tracing paths through the unchanging sky.

"In the longest view, they have been here for a blink of an eye. Some of us would say they are an abrupt cataclysm. Another extinction event."

"Perhaps. I am not worried, however. I am in no position to weigh life beyond what the society I exist in demands, and I do not worry about what I cannot control.

"You are strange. The second strangest creature I have asked these questions to." The endless night of the spirit world wears on, the two lying down in silence side by side while watching the points of light above.