Chương 39: Cianán’s Walk

"The powers shed by King Cianán in the initial steps of his walk through the First Ring were his most potent, and the most unstable," Cian began.

"Reality shifted, broke apart, reformed, changed color. The nature of certain stones transmuted. The spellings of ancient words changed and had always been that way. Strange creatures poured out of holes in the world that vanished afterwards. Every step caused ripples in space and time."

"Good argument'd be that letting someone get that much power is wholly irresponsible, seeing the damage someone taking a single walk with it did," Róise said.

"Maybe!" Cian said, then continued.

"Many of the powers he shed became Drops. Drops of Intent, Greed, Cruelty, Love, Ambition - anything that made Cian who he was. Fórsa is not a cloak to be put on and discarded - it's made of the very stuff of people and to remove those powers from his own body meant that he quite literally was losing parts of himself along the way. Sometimes it formed unstable anomalies, sometimes powerful gems. In one case - the very first - the fórsa he dropped blended together and made a person." He waited a beat.

"Hello," Cian said cheerfully.

"So… you're like me?" Sol said, his voice tinged with awe.

"Close enough for me to call you brother!" Cian declared, wrapping Sol in an embrace.

"Again, people made of fórsa is not strange. All people in the Tír are made of fórsa. Creating new people with fórsa the way Sol and I were made… that is very strange."

"So that's why you can control so many projections at the same time?" Miriam asked.

"You're just… that powerful then?" Cian winced and shrugged.

"I wouldn't say that. I would say that my nature is unique to the Walk."

"How so?" Cormac asked, bright-eyed.

"Well… I kind of… am the Walk," Cian said sheepishly.

"The entire expanse of the Walk is me. It's like my body, and I - the person you see in front of you - is kind of like my brain."

"So you're the creepy murder jungle?" Miriam said. He smiled.

"Everybody has things they don't like about themselves! But that is a good point to make - I also can't change most things about myself. So when I tell you how the Walk works… hey, don't get mad at me, ok?"

"What he's saying," Maitiú said, leaning forward, "Is to not blame him for all the people who come into his little zoo and never make it out again." Cian frowned, but nodded.

"Yes. If I could post a keep-out sign I would, but I am afraid my very presence in the First Ring draws people in. My fórsa here is too heavy. So I'll never be able to truly stop it. And some people do make it out, you know."

"I met one," Róise said, crossing her arms.

"Lúcás. He was not a fan of his time here."

"Oh! How is he doing?" Cian asked, his face lighting up.

"He had a really hard time of it, but he managed to squeak out. I was proud of him!"

"He's missing an arm now."

"Ooh. That's not great." The boy sighed.

"I help as much as I can, but once you cross Scior it's all autonomic. I can't even go there. If I'm being honest he got lucky. I was sure he was going to die. He was just so desperate to leave…" Cian shook his head.

"Anyway. Back to the point. Here's the tough thing for groups like yours. If all of you walked out into the jungle together, you would find yourselves alone after the first step. And I mean - in the entire Walk. You and I would be the only people on the whole island."

"You mean we're all sent somewhere else?" Miriam was not understanding at all. Was this why they had all seen the boat, but not each other?

"Like… a copy of this place?"

"I mean… yes and no." Cian shook his head.

"Explaining the nature of a broken reality to a bunch of First Rings is - no offense - not the easiest thing to do."

"Hey, I'm a Third!" Cormac called.

"And you're such a big strong boy, yes you are!" Cian said, straight-faced.

"It doesn't matter. The point is, reality is tethered to the Mind here. The bald spots are the only point at which everything coalesces again - little peaks of unaltered reality - which is how we can all be together around this lovely fire. The areas outside the bald spots have been perfectly balanced over thousands of years. That balance makes the world here both very fragile and resilient at the same time." He grabbed Maitiú's shoulder.

"When a First Ring Mind enters the fórsa of the Walk, the delicate web of reality bends in a certain way. All the Second Ring stuff that's collected in here, the Third, the Fourth and so on - it's all too heavy to be bent by a mere First's worth of fórsa." Cian then held Róise's hand up high.

"Now imagine we have a Third here walking in with the First. Two fórsa-heavy bodies bending the skein of reality. I… well, the Walk, I should say… I'm a permanently bent part of reality. But I'm not reality myself. I'm kind of a pale imitation. The rules that make me up aren't sophisticated enough to handle both, so inherently I just split the two apart. Easier to make two versions of reality than warp one version around two bodies."

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"So… we were all in the same place, just… at different levels?" Miriam felt like she could almost grasp it.

"Like… if we were in that building there, but I was on the first floor and Róise was on the Third."

"If the floors were perfectly identical, and folded back together to be one floor as soon as you stepped out of them, then yes, that's pretty close."

"But then why weren't Róise and I on the same level?" Cormac asked.

"Both Thirds."

"It's still two bodies. Maybe if you were perfectly identical somehow it would work, but it's never happened. I'm not really sure what would happen. You might end up in the Third level - maybe the Sixth level? Eh, probably not, Sixth is actually way more than double Third. Maybe Fourth?" Cormac rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"That don't matter," Róise said angrily. She wasn't much taller than the boy, but it was clear that she towered over him anyway.

"The whole reason we came here is because we needed to be stronger. Lúcás was far and away above where he was before he got lost in here. How does this place do that?" Cian smiled ruefully.

"There's no secret trick to that in the Walk. If you leave here you'll be stronger - because you have to be stronger to leave." Róise kicked a log in the fire and embers scattered.

"Damn it! Maitiú was right, Cormac. This was a fool's errand. Wasted six months we could have been stirring up trouble back home."

"You will get stronger here," Cian said. The boy shook his head.

"I can't promise you'll be able to leave. Most people don't. Most people either die trying or give up. The town behind me, which I'll show you once we're done with the basics here, is made up of the descendants of the thousands who found themselves trapped with no way out. It's not a bad life."

"What is the magical force that's going to whip us into shape then?" Róise summoned a blue blade, spun it in the air, and held it to the boy's neck, faster than Miriam could even think to stop it.

"What do we get here that we don't get weaving fórsa at home?" Cian grinned wide.

"Desperation is a powerful motivator." He looked down at her knife and then over her stance.

"And then you get me."

"Aren't you the whole problem to start with?" Róise growled.

"Róise -" Cormac reached a hand out toward his friend. His face was twisted with a worry Miriam had never seen on him.

"No, it's ok," Cian said.

"Róise. I have lived for tens of thousands of years. In that time, I have seen every possible combination of fórsa nature and adept specialization there is. I quickly got tired of seeing people rush to their deaths. So I learned how to help them. I don't think there is anyone alive in the Tír who knows more about fórsa manipulation than me. Maybe my original," he conceded.

"But the mighty King isn't here for you to ask."

"Help me, then," Róise said. Miriam was shocked to see tears in her eyes.

"For the love of the gods, help me." Cian pushed the knife down slowly with one finger. Róise didn't resist.

"You're a Folksong Adept, but your weaving is built wrong for it. You look like you were preparing to be a Garden Adept. You won't be able to force your fórsa to weave any denser until you align your core weaving with your technique." Róise blinked.

"You've met Folksong Adepts before?"

"Of course! Well, Song Adepts. The flavor is mainly cultural." Cian smiled warmly.

"Your Banks of Red Roses is a solid technique, but it's very generalized. You're trying to apply one technique to all situations. How many beasts did we fight on the way here, and that's the only one I saw you use. We need to broaden your repertoire. We happen to have a wonderful bard in town who collects songs from anyone who spends time here. We can find you what you need."

"Ooh! Do me next!" Cormac said, his face eager.

"Well, you need to be less of an insufferable ass, but that's really more for me than you, I think," Cian nodded to Róise, who released the blade fórsa and snorted appreciatively.

"Moreover, you're using your Luck wrong. You're always spreading it over a wide area, which gets you effortless results, but diminishes the potency of the happenstance when it finds you. You also need to add an Adept Class. Honestly, it seems like you've relied on your Luck to just take things kind of easy." Cormac looked wounded.

"Hey! I try really hard! I don't even know what Adept classes exist for Luck."

"You also need some combat techniques. Here in the Walk, you'll be alone. And you won't find most of the challenges here to be easily solved by calling the right insect to land in the right spot. I can help you with all of this." Cian then nodded to Maitiú.

"Maitiú - your Water Nature is solid. But you're also lacking an Adept Class - you have to have one to be able to weave dense enough fórsa to make it to Second. My guess is that you trained yourself to be good enough to work a ship and stopped bothering after that." The older sailor huffed.

"Sailing the sea is all I ever wanted. I didn't give two coppers for making it to the Second Ring." Cian shrugged.

"Well, you'll have to care if you want to sail again. We've got some lakes here, and the sea moat around the island, but no ships to speak of. If you can make it out, think of what new waters will be available to you in the inner rings!" Maitiú still didn't seem happy, but he did look more thoughtful.

"You do not have to analyze me," Sol said.

"I do not know what I am or what I can do. But you, my brother, seem the best person in all the world to help me figure it out." Cian smiled again.

"I can't wait! And Miriam…"

"Yes?" Miriam felt hope surge in her heart. This was who she needed. Someone who could help her isolate her natures. And, while she was becoming more appreciative of the power Blight offered, she still would prefer to purge it. He would have to know how to achieve that.

"Miriam," Cian said again, raising his hands apologetically.

"I have no clue what to do with you." Her face fell like the Líadan tumbling out of last night's clouds.

"But we'll figure it out!" The boy said hurriedly.

"Thousands of years and still seeing new things! I'm willing to bet all that experience can find a solution." He could tell Miriam didn't seem very reassured and he grasped her hand gently.

"Hey, hey. Look. Nothing in this life is a sure bet. I won't lie to you there. But if it's possible to get into this sort of a situation, it must be possible to turn to your advantage." Miriam nodded to him, but she didn't feel particularly encouraged. She might be stuck slinging wet, rotten vines for the rest of her life.

"But.. how do we actually get out by getting stronger?" Cormac asked. Cian floated up gently, spreading his arms.

"All you have to do is take a Walk!"