Danie Ware - Ecko Rising

“‘The Substance of the Gods’ – is Rammouthe, we’ve just learned that. The ‘Final Guardian’ – Roderick is or was a Guardian of the Ryll. The ‘Master of Light’ – at the founding of Fhaveon, Samiel sent a creature of light to defend the city. Nivrotar’s just told us that much.”

Ress was staring at the shadows, unseeing. In his glasses, he looked like a crazed prophet about to disturb the soft air with a rant about the Final War.

“The ‘Flux’ – the Elemental Powerflux that’s supposed to connect their souls, light and darkness, ice and fire. Roderick was right – he was right – this is all somehow connected.”

“You’ll be telling me he’s got a champion from another world next.” Jayr resisted the temptation to scatter the fragments into the dirt. “I don’t know why this even matters!”

Ress began to chew his lip, eyes losing their focus.

“You wouldn’t believe how much it matters! I need to think.”

“You think yourself in circles.” She sat back, crossed her arms and watched him.

“...I think there’s something else here, Jayr. Something more than just the big daemon beastie...”

“What?” Jayr had lost him already. “Why?”

He stood up sharply and began to pace to and fro upon the shattered mosaic.

“The book Nivrotar broke, the loss of the world’s memory. The island’s inhabitants died of emptiness, of apathy. Surely a daemon would be all fire and lightning and torture and hooks?” He turned, his eyes focused and oddly bright. “I think there’s something else. ”

Jayr snorted. “Something we’ve forgotten?”

“Yes. Exactly!” He picked up his parchment, leaned on the wall, scribbled frantically for a moment, then held out the paper to her. He was grinning like the birth of the sun. “The daemon’s a normal part of our culture and mythology – every tale’s got one. He’s in our legends and we remember him. Just about. But there’s something we’ve forgotten –”

“What are you – ?”

“It’s a puzzle, Jayr.” He was almost dancing a jig, bursting with eagerness and energy. “Gods, it can’t be this simple – this loco. All this time – and the Bard’s been right . The world had a nightmare – a nightmare that Roderick witnessed. And if the Ilfe, her memory, was on Rammouthe Island and it was lost – then no one can recall what that nightmare was. Your book said, ‘The dead carpet the Island of the Accurséd!’”

He broke into laughter that edged on hysterical and Jayr backed up – his expression was demented, fixated.

“Whatever killed them, whatever destroyed the world’s memory, that’s what the world fears, that’s what the nightmare was about. All this time –” he was alight, afire with understanding “– and I’ve found it. I’ve found what the Bard’s been looking for. He’s right, the world really does have a forgotten fear.”

“What the rhez are you on about?”

He leaned down to grab her shoulders, feverish, his eyes glittering.

“It’s so simple. Yes, there’s Kas Vahl Zaxaar, we know about him, we can face him. Maybe our defender, the master of light, will come back and fight him. But there’s something else, don’t you see...”

“No I don’t see.” Flesh crawling, she threw him off her, scrabbled to her feet. “This isn’t some intellectual joke for your scholar brain! You’re analysing too much, reasoning yourself into seeing stuff that... You’re just making stuff up! Nivrotar is loco – and so are you!”

Ress was laughing, wild, crazed.

“But I’m right,” he said to her. “This transcends everything. ”

“Have you been at Syke’s pipe?”

He started chewing his lip again.

“An entire race just fell down and died. Of emptiness. Good Gods...”

Jayr flopped back into her spot on the floor, baffled. Without thinking, she crumpled Ress’s notes into a pouch. His eyes were distant, he was paying no attention to anything but his thoughts.

“They died of giving up.”

The energy faded out of him as he realised the scale of what he’d uncovered. He sat down, touched the fragmented puzzle with awed fingers.

“Can apathy be sentient? Perceptive? Jayr, this is too big to comprehend.”

“Then stop,” Jayr muttered, half in answer, half to herself. “Can we please get the rhez out of here? I need the sun.”

Ress’s gaze focused on her and he stared, bemused, blinking.

With a sudden chill, she realised how empty he looked.

Empty.

“Ress?”

Inexplicable fear dumped tension through blood and muscle. She jumped up, frost icing across her back. That was enough – she was taking Ress out of this fireblasted building. Like, now.

“But I’m not afraid,” he said, smiling at her. “I find this... fascinating.” The way he said the word made her reach for his arm, drag him to his feet.

Fascinating.

“That’s it,” she declared, “we’re going to find ale. And a bar fight. And you some company. The cheaper the better.”

He was a dead weight, slumped in her grip, his gaze fixed on nothing.

“I was reading something...” He leaned down and she let him go. He stumbled to his hands and knees, began to gather the broken papers to him, pieces dissolving into ashes even as he touched them. He seemed to have no awareness of what he was doing. “I need them...”

“Ress...” Jayr reached for his arms, held him easily. “Don’t...”

He started to laugh, high-pitched and humourless. His gaze bifurcated, then focused on her again – but with an effort.

“Jayr. What are you...?” He struggled against her grip but wasn’t strong enough to break free. Beneath them, the puzzle scattered. “What’s happening to me? I can’t see, I can’t think... oh, Gods, my head... !”

He fell forwards against her shoulder, shaking. The last time Jayr’d seen someone like this, Taure had overdone the pipeweed and seen figments in the grass for days. She wondered if he was going to throw up and leaned him back to sit on his heels. She held up his chin, searched his face for sanity.

But his head lolled. His glasses fell from his nose, shattering as they hit the floor. Pieces of precious glass mingled with the pieces of the poem he’d been reading.

Fascinating.

“Ress?” Not knowing how to help, she shook his shoulders, shook him harder. He shuddered violently, and slumped forwards. She caught him like a child, a dead weight against her body.

“Ress!”

Then his head came back up. He looked up at her, his neck at a crazed angle. His eyes were blank and he stared straight through her, straight through the rotting cavern of the library, through the shadows and the slanting sun. He was transfixed by something eternal, something she had no way to see.

He was white to the lips, his pupils huge.

And he was frightening her.

“RESS!” Right in his face.

“I understand ...” he said, fervently. He clawed at her garments. She brushed his hands away, fighting to control the shudder. “I see the water, but her thoughts are transitory.” He knelt up, but his gaze seared a line across her skin. He was leagues away, ardent and crazed. “The grass cries out to be heard. Do you hear the stone ?”

Stone?

Jayr watched him, horrified, found a sob catching in her throat.

“What the rhez is the matter? What stone?” She stood up, heaved him upright, her boot shattering the last of the puzzle as she did so – she barely even noticed. “Ress, please... Ress !”

For a moment, it seemed he looked at her. His face was lit with a wondrous smile, vacant and ecstatic.