Carol Berg - THE SOUL WEAVER

“Now tell me why your father has murdered you. He should have made this journey before you were born. This yearning you feel is his, for he is tired of existing where he doesn’t belong. But you, young Lord, have not even begun to know what is to be found in the world… ”

And then he bombarded me with another round of visions, this time of his own pleasures, corrupt, brilliant, loathsome, depraved, exciting, a world of power and enchantment where I could do anything I wanted - and never to end, for I would be immune from ordinary death.

“Now tell him, D’Natheil. Tell him why he has to die. Tell him why he cannot live forever.”

“Tell me,” I whispered, suddenly confused. My progress toward the barrier of light slowed, and the fading visions of warmth and pleasure left me cold and empty. Alone. Dead. A shudder of terror swept through me. “Father… ”

It took even longer for the answer to come back this time, as if my father had to gather himself up from the shimmering fragments of light that showered down on us.

“Because Gerick is not one of you. He is loved and cherished by uncounted souls, who even now bear him in their hearts with reverence. He does not live for the pain of others, but for their benefit. Despite all you’ve done to him… all I’ve done to him… Gerick owns his soul and has used it to choose his Way. His long journey has led him here… to his freedom.” We moved forward again. Faster now. Upward.

“Words. Lies.” Ziddari’s voice rose. Louder. Tighter. Tinged with fear. “You murder him at the very threshold of manhood, just as you abandoned him to murder on the day of his birth. I am the one who saved him on that day, and I am the one who will save him on this day. The only freedom you offer is oblivion.”

“Ah, but you see, Ziddari, unlike myself, and unlike the Lords of Zhev’Na, my son will not die on this day. For all your wisdom, all your years, all your magics, you have no true power. True power lies in the hands of those like my wife, who has no talent for sorcery yet changes the course of the world with her passionate heart, and Ven’Dar, who witnesses to the glory of history and fate, and my friend Paulo, who cannot even read yet hears the quiet pulse of life and sustains it with his faithfulness. You’ve never understood. While Gerick lives out his future free of you, you will have ample time to consider your lacks.”

Light and shadow traveled on the warm wind that swirled around me. Through me. As we climbed the ridge of light, music took shape around us. Haunting blues and greens, frothing like ocean waves. A swelling wall of purple-and-violet melody, a mountaintop of singing rose and white…

“Betrayer!” bellowed Ziddari. “Weakling!”

The taunts did not touch me. I thought of my mother and Paulo and knew that what my father said about them was true. My whole being smiled as I remembered them.

The Three went wild, then, and I thought my mind would distingrate. Red-hot claws of fury, frustration, and terror rent my mind and soul into shreds of words and images. They lashed me with the fullness of their power, blinding me with pain and hatred, slashing, ripping, tearing at my reason.

“Heed my last word, Destroyer.” The venomous voice penetrated the hurricane of madness, as if the ruby-eyed Ziddari had bent down to whisper in my ear alone. “You will never be free of us. No matter in what realm we exist at the end of this day, you will not escape the destiny we designed for you. You are our instrument. Our Fourth. Every human soul - mundane or Dar’Nethi - will curse the day you first drew breath.”

The storm closed in again. I held against them, trying to stanch the spreading poison of despair, trying to shield my father’s fragile spirit, until I could no longer think of my own name, could not fit two thoughts together, could not exist… I needed breath. I needed life. Screaming, I fell back…

“Gerick, hold on… just a little farther. I know it is so hard… but you are stronger than all of us…” My father’s voice was distant, but filled with everything he believed about life, and the reasons he had been willing to take this path to preserve the worlds. His will - not at all fragile - held me together, pulled me forward. “Stay with me… ah, gods, it comes. Quickly, my son… trust me…”

On the brink of madness, I took one more step. Then, with a long sigh, we began to separate, my father and I and the Lords. The Lords’ curses disintegrated rapidly into unintelligible ravings, cries that existed apart from and not inside me, and then, after a final, horrifying crescendo of terror, the Three fell silent… and I was free.

All that was left was the music, haunted, wandering music, just on the edge of beauty, yet just on the edge of dissonance. Streams of light and music bathed us like sparkling wine. The doors of my mind were flung open, and the melodies drifted through them, sweeping away the lingering shadows and cobwebs, and I felt my father’s joy untouched by any trace of anger. We had crossed the Verges, and he, too, was free.

Vague forms began to take shape in the distance, and I strained to see what they were, but my father took hold of me again, closing off my vision as if he had brushed my eyelids shut to make me sleep. Submerge now… go deep. You must not see. I believe your gift can take you back into your body, but only if you don’t see. To know L’Tiere would be… unbearable… for a living man, I think. Go deep and wait for your mother’s call to lead you. She’ll find a way. I know it. She has always been able to learn what she needs.

But what of you, Father?

Ah, I wish so very much - But my span of years was done long ago. Dassine gave me the chance to know you, to know of my people and our world that no Exile could remember, and to embrace my Seri once again. How could I ask for more? An eternity of sadness tinged his words.

But what of D’Natheil? His time was not yet. One of you should still be alive.

D’Natheil has not enough mind to go back alone. So much was destroyed by the Bridge when he was young. The rest, when Dassine displaced his soul with mine.

Another burst of color and the music splashed about us. My father’s presence was a lacework of frost, thinning in the blaze of winter sunlight.

Quickly, son. I will hold here at the Verges for as long as I can. Tell your mother that she crossed with me as I told her she would. Live with joy, and with all my love.

And as if he were pushing me under the water to teach me to swim, he forced me deep into his mind, leaving me only enough awareness that I might hear the call that would draw me back to life.

But I was a Soul Weaver, and I reached for my father as he had reached for me, and I drew him in beside me to wait…

Seri

If it had been daytime, or I’d been more awake, or the room had been filled with light and activity, I would never have sensed it. It was no more than the glimmer of a forgotten inspiration, or a feather out of place in your pillow, or the earliest stirring of a child in the womb, but it jolted me awake and I listened until I thought my inner ears might bleed. There. Again…

Gerick, child, is it you? Is it true what Ven’Dar said, that you can find your way back? Follow my voice, dear one. I shaped each word carefully.

At the end of half an hour the touch was stronger, still faint, still very far away, but I refused to believe it was some midnight fantasy of a tired and grieving widow. A lamp flared from the doorway, searing my eyes and rousing Ven’Dar, who also had dozed off.

“I was just - ” said Paulo, but I held up my hand for quiet.

Mother. The call, the touch, had come again.

“Vasrin’s hand,” whispered Ven’Dar, watching as I focused my attention inward. The sorcerer slipped off the edge of the table, and hurried around to where he could touch Gerick’s body.