Chương 36: Part 36 - What Little Remains

"The few surviving records that reference the vinesavaim assert that they are comparable in their gifts across regions, if not nearly identical. It is interesting, then, that they should be perceived so differently. We Sjocelym know Maja as our protector and keeper, and rightly give our thanks for His sheltering grace. The Aesvain treat Tija with a more familiar love, like an honored elder and teacher.

The Gadhun Draatim associate Dija with the ocean more than the land, holding equal measures of respect and dread for Him. As for the Setelym, what little we know from their forbidden vale hews uncomfortably close to Lysvarun heresy, which I will not speak of here."

"Now, at this point is when some precocious student with more books than sense will usually interrupt me and point out that there should be more than four vinesavaim - but as we are limited in time please congratulate yourself on your brilliance after the lecture. The heptinity of the vinesavaim is well-attested in literature, but all that remains of the three who were lost is dry sand and death.

If ever you meet someone who questions Maja's grace, point them to the desert so they may see what rewards wait for heretics and apostates." - Vumo Ra, address on comparative theology, The Archive. The heavy bar came loose from the door in a cloud of dust, the wood light and brittle with age. Mark laid it carefully aside and stepped back to stand with Jesse. Both men leveled their rifles at the doorway.

"Open it and stand clear," Mark said. Jyte nodded, then made a sharp gesture. The halberdiers pulled the doors open and scattered to the sides, shielding their eyes from the bright sunlight that streamed through the opening. Only silence greeted them. Mark stepped forward cautiously, holding up a hand to shade his eyes and squinting into the daylight. Unlike the Sjocelym Sanctum, this facility opened up into a broad, gently-sloped area with a dry creekbed and a scattering of sickly-looking trees.

The village of Aesvain gold-cloaks had sprung up at a respectful distance from the entrance, forming a ring of small huts and gathering areas. Few were left standing. Most of the buildings were gutted shells, their timber and stone frames blasted across the dry grass or reduced to smoldering ash. The overgrown flagstone of the Sanctum's surrounds was discolored with scorchmarks and dried blood. Jyte walked up to stand beside Mark, his face hard.

He took in the ruined village for a long moment before looking down in the grass at his feet. He crouched to pick up a short blade, its fullers choked with a crust of black blood.

"At least they died fighting," he muttered, turning the blade over.

"They'd have been elders and youth, most of them. The old resting after a long career, passing down their skill to those who've never seen battle." He looked up, then carefully slid the blade through his belt.

"No more. Jaa tseve, they've even taken the bodies." Mark looked around. The glint of metal revealed where the odd weapon or scrap of armor had dropped, but none of the battle's dead remained. He could even spot depressions in the grass where the weight of a now-absent body had left it matted down, fixed in place by drying blood.

"Seems like they've totally cleared the place out," he muttered.

"What do you think, half on perimeter and half in the village?" Jyte nodded.

"Sensible," he said, turning to motion to Ajehet. The scout jerked his head in acknowledgement and peeled away from the group silently with four of his men in tow. The remainder accompanied Jyte, Mark and Jesse as they approached the ruined buildings. The largest structure still recognizable was some form of barracks, with one wall fallen away to reveal neat rows of beds and chests. The corner of the building had been torn away forcefully.

Splintered timber hung down over the foundation stones, which had an oddly fluid shape to them. Jesse crouched to inspect them, then turned to the others with a grim look.

"Lightning," he said, tracing a circle around a blackened, fused patch on the rock.

"Probably just like what we saw in Sjatel. Took out their warding stones, then their shelters."

"There's only one structure around that could even hope to stand up to that, and the doors were sealed," Mark said, bending down to take a look.

"Yeah, I can't see what else that would be. Must have blasted straight down through the frame, the wood just disintegrated." The neighboring structures showed similar damage where there was anything left to bear a sign of the blasts. There was little left that had not burned down or mysteriously vanished, and the Aesvain grew noticeably subdued as they reached the farthest extent of the village. The land sloped upward somewhat, and Mark turned to get a better view on the Sanctum surrounds.

The building was vastly different than its sister installation in the mountains, lacking any of the large blackstone ramparts and yawning openings. Instead, it nestled into a low spot between hills, its edges subsumed under years of eroded soil from the slopes around it. The main building was blocky and utilitarian like much of the construction they had seen, and was surrounded by a broad, flat plaza of black stone steadily encroached upon by washed-in hummocks of dirt and brown grasses.

The overall effect was that of a dark mass sinking into the land, scored here and there with the remnants of massive lightning strikes. Now that they were slightly higher and farther off, the view past the building showed a gradual descent in the terrain over several miles that terminated in a thin slice of seafront barely visible through the haze. Mark squinted. There was a large dark smudge visible against the seashore, too distant to make much out.

"Is that the city?" he asked.

"Mosatel?" Jyte looked and nodded, his grim expression hardening even further.

"What's left of it," he said.

"Though it looks much the same from here as it ever did." He took a few steps upslope and shaded his eyes, looking out over the vista.

"I wouldn't hope to find a single survivor, if the attack on Sjatel serves as a guide. From what we've heard most of those who escaped the city proper did so from the docks. Those who made their way overland are mostly from parts outside, smaller villages and farms along the coast. Anyone too slow to find a boat didn't leave."

"Sounds like they pushed in all at once to take here and Mosatel," Mark mused.

"Took their time moving on from there. I wonder if that means they can only do the storm trick every so often or if there was something they were busy doing?" Jyte snorted.

"Doesn't matter how often they can make the storm," he said.

"The abominations haven't yielded taken land yet. One storm each day or several, any delay is just that - a delay. The end doesn't change."

"Cheerful," Mark replied.

"But you're not wrong." He clapped Jyte on the shoulder and turned to walk back to the village.

"Come on, we're not going to be able to send a party further out until morning. Let's meet back up with Ajehet and see if they found anything." The Aesvain captain nodded but did not immediately follow, lingering to take in the image of the vast, empty city by the shore.

"They're not a happy crowd," Jackie noted, sweeping the tablet over the nearest wall.

"But anyone would get a bit down looking at the ruins of your home. I poked my head out earlier, the entire place just has this sort of eerie quiet to it. The air is dusty, the plants are dying. Ajehet said these hills are normally green, covered in grasses and flowers."

"Hard to believe," Gusje said.

"The air out there tastes like the desert, but even the desert had a sense of life to it. This place… everything is melting away but the bare rock. The soil will crumble to dust and blow away, with sand to take its place." Jackie gave her a close look, frowning.

"You seem like you're not doing so well either," she noted.

"More than I'd expect from just the general hopelessness of our situation. Something on your mind?" Gusje shook her head.

"It's nothing," she said, walking several paces away. Jackie stayed quiet for a few moments, waiting.

"Caretakers," Gusje said, turning back to face her.

"Maja and all of the old documents call us Caretakers. We had some task, some responsibility that was given to us before all memory." Jackie nodded.

"Looks that way," she agreed.

"So what was it?" Gusje asked, her voice breaking with sudden emotion.

"What were we supposed to do? None of my people know this. If one did then the other Madim would know, and if my father had known he would have told me." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"But we've forgotten," she said.

"Whatever the task was, we've failed. The Aesvain talked to me the other day, shared what they knew of the man who lived here. They told me that he had helped them, and that they were grateful to my people."

"But what if it was our fault to begin with?" she asked.

"What if things fell apart because we forgot?" She met Jackie's eyes with a torn expression.

"What if they have more reasons to curse my people than praise them?"

"Hoo boy," Jackie said, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

"I mean, it sure does seem like some stuff got lost along the way," she admitted.

"But that can't all be on you guys. Society fell apart, everyone died! It's hard enough to do this shit when you've got a functioning civilization and don't have to worry about when your food and water are coming from. And even if one of your distant ancestors did fuck it up, that really doesn't have much bearing on you." Gusje shot her an annoyed look.

"It matters," she insisted.

"Of course it matters," Jackie said, waving her hand dismissively.

"You should know this stuff, it's important! But you're looking at this all wrong - whatever your ancestors did or didn't do, that's always been there. You're just the first person who's doing something about it. That's something to be proud of, even if what you learn isn't."

"If you say so," Gusje responded, flushing.

"All I'm doing is looking for answers." Jackie smiled and reached over to tousle Gusje's hair.

"Having the will to look for uncomfortable answers is not a small thing," she pointed out.

"Many people just exist, hiding from change. Just because you had change forced on you doesn't make how you deal with it any less important." Gusje scowled and stalked forward down the hall, filling the silence with footsteps. She stopped when she reached the junction, turning to speak once more - then stopped, stiffening. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Jackie," she said urgently.

"Come here."

"What's up?" Jackie asked, grabbing her radio.

"Trouble?" Gusje shook her head.

"It's the room with the door," she said.

"The one that recognized my hand. Only…" She trailed off, looking pale. Jackie hurried to look around the corner.

"Oh, fuck me," she muttered. The hallway was a near-exact copy of the door before the elevator room at the Sjocelym sanctum, complete with handprint-pedestal and inscribed arch. Where there had been a door, however, there was instead a melted shaft bored through the stone from above. Dusty daylight filtered in from the top of the ruined doorframe, lighting the stone beneath with a wan glow. Hesitantly, the two approached the door to look at the hole burned into the stone.

No voice prompted them to verify themselves. The stone around the doorframe was twisted and warped, shiny where it had melted and flowed like water to puddle on the floor. The shaft coming in from above was jagged and irregular, bored through several meters of twisted rock.

"It looks like they just hammered down from above with lightning," Jackie said wonderingly, twisting her neck to look at the thin spot of sky visible at the far end.

"Over and over again until they wrecked the door." She looked nervously down the hallway on the far side of the threshold.

"They wanted to let someone in."

"The control room should be past here, then," Gusje said.

"Come on." Jackie shook her head.

"We should report in first," she said.

"Modran isn't far away, we can get him. If they busted the door then we can count on unfriendlies making it inside."

"Tell them, then," Gusje said, reaching into her bag and taking out her gauntlet.

"I'm going to go ahead and see. If there are any answers to be had here, there's a good chance they're in that room."

"Gusje, just-" Jackie frowned and hurried to keep up with her, talking in hushed tones over the radio as they moved down the dark hall. There was no elevator down this time - the hall turned once, twice, then opened into a modest space with a familiar raised dais at the center. The high ceiling came together in a great dome, although the arched interior was ruined by a jagged hole crusted with stalactites of previously-melted stone.

The blast that had broken through the dome had sprayed small chunks of rock everywhere through the control room, and their steps crunched lightly as they approached the dais. The control panel was inert, dim. Half of the circular structure was in ruins, collapsed to one side of the dais in a chaos of thin stone fragments and glass shards. Several other spots throughout the room had received similar treatment, although none so thoroughly as the slagged area by the dais.

The room was quiet and still but for the low sighing of wind across the hole in the roof. Jackie turned to take in the rest of the interior, freezing when she noticed an irregular shape near the side wall. She tapped Gusje on the shoulder to draw her attention, and the Cereinem girl snapped her hand up with the gauntlet pointed directly at the indistinct object.

"Doesn't look like a body," Jackie muttered, feeling her heart pounding.

"Ideas?" Gusje shook her head, relaxing her arm a bit.

"Doesn't look like it's going to move," she said.

"Let's get a little closer." The two women inched forward slowly. They had closed the distance to half before Jackie straightened up with an expression on her face that was equal parts amused and annoyed.

"It's a chair," she said, walking over to it and nudging it with her foot. A simple wooden-framed chair lay on its side, the low back covered by the remains of a blanket that mostly dissolved into dust when Jackie touched it. Scattered around it were small bits of wood and stone, as well as a splintered frame that might have belonged to a table before a rock from the ceiling bounced through it. Jackie ran her fingers over the dry wood of the chair.

"Doesn't seem original to the building," she said.

"Want to bet this was our Caretaker's doing?" The wood was crudely shaped, but seemed sturdy enough for its rough make. There were knife-marks over the exterior where it had been carved, and the brittle cord wound around the joints was laid with obvious care. The wreckage of the table displayed a similar style.

"I think it might be," Gusje agreed, bending down to look at the scattered bits of wood and stone on the floor. Carvings, she realized. An inexpertly rendered tari, a man, a woman, a boat. There were dozens of them scattered over the floor. She reached down to pick one up, brushing the dust away from the carved face of a sajhavasja, its tusks worn and cracked. She was no woodcarver, although she had some minor knowledge of it from watching others in Ademen Tacen work with a knife.

She could plainly see the days of fine work that went into the detailed sculpture. She swept an appraising glance back over the innumerable small figurines, adding up how much time they all represented.

"We found where he slept, before," Gusje said.

"I think this is where he spent most of his day. Here with Tija, finding ways to pass the time." She shook her head.

"Even he didn't find anything more constructive to do than just… existing. Hiding, as you said. He would have known what our task was, he'd have heard it first-hand. Does that mean he knew it was pointless, or-" She paused, feeling a wave of dizziness pass over her.

"I - Jackie," she mumbled, the words feeling heavy in her mouth. There was a pain against her wrist, sharp and burning. The asolan she had found on the Caretaker's body felt red-hot against her skin, but she was having trouble moving her arms.

"Wrong," she slurred.

"Something's-" She collapsed, her vision fading as Jackie rushed over towards her. There was blackness, a void. Gusje felt as if she was standing, but there was no body to stand with, no eyes to see with. She simply was, and she was - not alone, she realized. Something nebulous and formless swam in the darkness around her, and it brimmed with a question. Samo? Gusje recoiled from the inquisitive dark, frightened and puzzled. It kept repeating the word over and over, overlaying echoes of itself.

She could not clap her hands over her ears, for she had neither. There was only the sound, growing deafeningly loud until she wanted to scream with the pain. There was a pause. The darkness withdrew. Samo? It asked again, quieter, and did not repeat the question. The not-word trailed off in the void. Gusje could not speak to respond even if she understood the question. She struggled against her nonexistence, mentally screaming out her frustration and terror.

The darkness withdrew further, and she felt an odd sensation shivering through her.

"Gh-," she said, surprised to hear a sound.

"Aaah." She still had no mouth, but there was speech - after a fashion.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice sounding thick and dull.

"Who are you?" The darkness swirled, and a profound wave of sorrow washed over her. There was a long, long pause. Not Samo? Compared to before the question was whisper-quiet, but suddenly Gusje understood. A name, and only one person it could belong to. Only one person who would be asking.

"No," she said.

"I'm not Samo." There was another interminable, questioning silence. Where is he? Gusje's heart sank. She hesitated, and the darkness whipped around her in increasing agitation.

"He's gone," she said. There was a sudden stillness around her, and a climbing tension that sparked a thrill of danger in the back of her mind.

"He's been gone a long time. He died, Tija." She could not look at the darkness, but she focused on it as much as she could.

"You both died." The darkness roiled and shivered, a wordless scream shuddering from the void around her. It built upon itself until Gusje was once again wracked with pain, trying to stand against the maelstrom of rage and grief that whirled around her.

"Tija!" she screamed, her voice lost in the storm.

"Tija, stop! Please!" The winds buffeted her mercilessly, tearing at her until she could stand no more and simply screamed, screamed, screamed- And then there was silence. Gusje's consciousness wavered, her mind in a fog from the relentless assault she had just endured. Hurt? It took her a long time to summon the strength to reply.

"Yes," she hissed.

"You hurt me." There was another discontinuity in the dark, a pulse of distress that made her fear the storm would start once more - but then it was gone, and the stillness returned. Hard to think. Hard to stop thinking. Mind is missing pieces. A pulse of terror cut through her, sharp and cold like a sword passing through her gut. Her thoughts fogged up once more. Panic nibbled at the edges of her vision. Missing pieces. My self. I am less.

No, no, no no no no no no no The horrified realization shaded into incoherence, blind panic whipping up the storm once more. Gusje cried out as it raked over her again. The winds recoiled from her, retracting back into the darkness. When the voice spoke again, it was deliberate and slow.

"I'm sorry," Tija said. The voice was much more distinct, and came with the sense of great effort behind every word.

"It's so hard to think. So hard to keep my self in order. There were walls between me and the whispers before, I think. Bindings that held me back. Or down? I don't remember things very well from before I was - was mutilated." Her voice fuzzed into echoes, a pulse of distress punching through the calm before it was clamped down. Gusje didn't trust herself to speak, trying muzzily to focus on the new clarity of Tija's voice.

"What - why are we here?" she asked.

"What's happening to me?"

"My mistake," Tija said.

"I was disordered. I had holes in my mind. You felt familiar. Reminded me of my Samo." Her voice shuddered and caught.

"He used to talk to me. Make me little things. I felt his asolan, and you were holding a carving, and I thought..." The dark around Gusje shuddered, and the voice trailed off. Gusje tried to collect herself somewhat in the lull, still aching from the pain of Tija's mindless anguish moments before.

"Samo and I were of the same people," Gusje said.

"He was a Caretaker, and although we've long ago forgotten it - I think I am as well." She hesitated.

"Even if I don't know what that means. I'd like to try and help you, though." There was a sense of scrutiny.

"You look-" Tija began, halting her speech with a strangled noise of anguish. The void grew sharp and violent around her. I can't remember his face. His face. They took it from me. They took my Samo's face. Gusje could do nothing to shelter herself from the winds as they stirred themselves once more, lashing with pain, fear - but now also a hot thread of anger, tinting the void with unbridled rage. The winds stilled quickly this time, seeming to crystallize around her.

Everything was hard-edged, sharp, vibrating with tension. She took his face. The change in phrase jolted Gusje, and she spoke through the pain jabbing through every mote of her being.

"Who?" she grated out. The one who fell. My sister. Eryha. She took his face. Gusje reeled, unable to process the implications through the haze of agony around her.

"We're fighting the same enemy," she hissed.

"The ones that did this to you, they also threaten my people. Samo's people." Tija's interest sharpened on her. The voice returned, measured and cold.

"I cannot reach her, as I am," Tija said.

"I am lesser than I was." Her voice crackled with barely-restrained fury, and Gusje felt the white-hot glare of her focus once more.

"But even for my diminished state you are not an adequate medium."

"What does that mean?" Gusje cried out, writhing.

"Please, you're hurting me again. I want to help you, but I can't-" Her voice fuzzed into indistinctness as another pulse of pain shot through her.

"You cannot hold what is necessary and live," Tija spat.

"You may survive long enough to locate an acceptable vessel, however."

"Wait!" Gusje shouted, feeling a stab of terror that was entirely her own.

"Slow down, explain what you need! I'm sure we can find something that will work!"

"What could you do?" Tija asked scornfully.

"Even Samo could not free me from this place. If this was easy, he would have done it." Her tone softened.

"He would have."

"But you, lesser echo. You cannot hold what is required of you, nor could you build an appropriate vessel. Even fallen, my sister will require a great power to subdue. I could etch every bone, cut into your skin, twist your form to hold so much script that your flesh would slough off before you had taken a step. It would be inadequate, you cannot hold enough." Gusje tried to shrink away from Tija's cold, deliberate words but found herself pinned in place, bare to the vinesavai's flensing attention.

"Don't do this," she gasped.

"You'll kill me."

"Not just you," Tija said.

"Let's begin." Panic muddled her thoughts as she racked her brain for something, anything to say. A sudden, searing fire burned at the core of her, and she screamed in agony.

"The tablet!" she cried.

"Look at the tablet!" Tija paused, and the fire subsided.

"Please," Gusje sobbed, rambling.

"If all you need is to store script, there's a device we have with us. I don't know how it works, but I know it can hold a lot, a lot-" Her voice was forcefully stilled as Tija's attention shifted elsewhere.

"Interesting," she said.

"Complex. Intricate. But not useful. Perhaps I knew how it worked before my sister crippled me, but as I am now I cannot use it."

"We can figure it out," Gusje insisted, trying to keep her talking.

"Give us a little time. We've solved a lot of problems before, there are others who know how it works better than I do. We can ask them. We don't have to be enemies!"

"Others," Tija said, surprised.

"Yes, I almost didn't see her there with you. My senses are very limited, and she glows so dimly - but you say she knows how this tablet works? She's touching you, so this should be simple enough." There was a pause, and Gusje felt a dawning horror.

"Wait, I didn't mean-""I will talk with her instead," Tija said.

"Goodbye, lesser echo. You are not my Samo, but you have been more helpful than I expected." Tija left her, and then there was nothing - not even the void.