Knowledge Aforethought, page 16
The hand I held the amulet in started to burn blue with power. I could feel the artefact fighting my control, pumping back seemingly endless amounts of power into my body as I tried to claim its power. It would most definitely have killed me, under different circumstances. As it was, I felt fire burning through my blood, scorching my veins and setting my heart ablaze. My lungs felt like they were being crushed by an impossible weight. Still I forced the words out of my mouth and focused my will on Charlotte.
Unfortunately, I had strayed too close to the other mercenaries. They obeyed Life’s command, though doing so would surely kill them with the residual magic flowing through me. The warrior holding Mary’s arm released her and swung his sword towards me. He didn’t hit me properly, but the metal did make contact with the Eye of Carteria in my hand. Power from the amulet surged through this new connection, leaping into the mercenary. He screamed, fire burning him down to his plate armour in less than a minute. And then, it did the unthinkable. It leaped to the closest person, trying to escape the control I was forcing on it.
Mary let out a horrified shriek as the power of the amulet furiously tried to consume her, too. I chanted at the top of my voice, now, but it was no good. I wouldn’t be able to exert my will over the Eye before it consumed Mary.
Charlotte let out a roar, the bellow of a giant backed by battle magic, and moved faster than I would have thought possible. She threw herself into the path of the power eating Mary. I tried to force the amulet to contain her, to trap her, not to kill her, but I hadn’t yet gained control. Instead of being saved, I watched as Charlotte was killed by the very thing I thought would help her.
She, too, burned until there was nothing left but ashes and her sword. I managed to grab onto the hand with the amulet with my other hand and force it down, pushing the power back into the Eye, though it probably killed me several times over. The power dissipated, then was gone.
And so was Charlotte the Unkillable.
In the Shadow of Time
“You,” Life snarled. She crossed the ring and stopped before me, quivering with barely suppressed rage. I tried to catch my breath as she looked down at me, but the flutter of fear that I had felt despite my soulless state was growing. I sucked in one last breath as Life reached down and wrapped her hand around my throat.
“Cal!” Machiavelli called out. I tried to turn and stop him from doing something stupid, but Life was already lifting me into the air. Her hand scorched my skin where it touched, but no matter how much I tried to struggle, there was neither relief nor end. My inability to die was no boon; it was a curse that continued to put me into a realm of pain and horror the likes of which I never would have been able to imagine.
I’d had nightmares about this sort of situation for months after the last bout with being unable to die. I was still terrified of pain. And now, it seemed that those fears were justified. I closed my eyes and tried not to whimper.
Life lifted me until my legs dangled off the ground. She held me at eye level and bored her gaze into me. “You will pay for what you have done.”
“Gragklack,” was may natural response.
“Put him down.”
The voice filled the air, silky and cold. There was a slight relief as some of Life’s power was pushed aside. I flicked my eyes—now desperately painful and strained—over my shoulder and saw Death approaching, his own expression just as furious as Life’s.
“No!” Life said, her lips twisted in disgust. “You did this! You sent him here to take my champion. You have ruined everything! Were you too much of a coward to do it yourself?”
“I did not send him,” Death said. He walked forwards, his steps calm and measured, his expression calculated. He stopped a good ten feet from where Life held me dangling in the air and clasped his wrists behind his back, the picture of serene patience. If serene patience were fond of gloating. “You know as well as I that you could not keep your champion. She was set upon her path long ago.”
Life threw me down to the ground where my spine cracked and I wheezed in a breath. The injuries around my neck were healing and I felt my back knit itself together again. My eyes were stuck on the sky as I tried to gain control of myself once more, but it did not stop me from hearing the screams as the mercenaries all realised what was happening and fled. The other sounds were the resulting thuds of two colossuses colliding.
“Cal!” Machiavelli knelt on the ground, shaking my shoulder. “You have to do something!”
“Grrrglll,” I wheezed. I sucked in a deep breath. The ground shook and dirt flew. Mary screamed, the sound enough to compel me into motion. I rolled onto my side and, with the help of Machiavelli, stood. What faced me was even worse than seeing Charlotte battling for her life and freedom.
Life and Death were trading blows, each glaring at the other with unabashed hatred. Life threw a hit to Death’s head and he jabbed her in the stomach. She staggered back, only to gather her power in her palms and throw it at Death. He dodged, but the fleeing mercenary behind him was not so lucky. The man immediately began giggling so loudly that he couldn’t draw in a proper breath. The grass and other plants around him began to grow so swiftly that they tangled his feet. He suffocated on laughter, trying to tear the vegetation from his limbs. Death’s power was equally as destructive, draining the people and earth it encountered until there was nothing left but dust.
If they continued like this, not just Florence would be in danger. They would tear the world apart.
“Mary, I’m so sorry,” I said. “Niccolo, I wish you all the best.” Then, I pushed them both aside and ran to stand between Life and Death. No plan. No magical artefact. No weapons. Just me standing against the forces of the universe.
I was the only one who could.
They both slammed into me with enough force to shatter my bones several times over. I let out a cry of pain, unable to keep it in. Then, as I sank to my knees, cradling my arms in my lap, I screamed at the two of them.
“ENOUGH!”
Death paused, looking down at me as though he hadn’t realised I was even there. Life planted her feet a few inches away, holding a fighting stance and ready to attack. “What are you doing?” I asked, my throat producing little more than a croak.
“It is in my nature to oppose him,” Life snarled. Death lifted his chin.
“And I will always be waiting to embrace everything you think you possess,” Death replied evenly. They inched forwards, ready to start battling again.
“No!” I glowered up at them. “You’re both wrong.”
“Oh?” Death asked, raising an eyebrow. He towered over me, wearing an expression of smug certainty. This Death was not the Death that had hired me in the park. This Death was something else entirely: uncontrolled, untamed, uncaring. It didn’t matter. I still had to do this. “And what do you think is going on?”
“I think you’re too scared to realise how little power you actually have,” I said. I straightened as much as I could, but even my body was running beyond exhausted. The darkness beyond the torches seemed to swell forwards, barely kept away by the fire.
“How little power?” Life laughed skeptically. She shook her head at me like I was an ignorant child.
“Yeah,” I said. “How little power. You think you’re so wonderful because you embody life. Because you exist where people laugh and dance and rage and live. But if there weren’t anybody or anything, then where would you be? And you,” I said, turning to look at Death. “Sure, every living thing will come your direction in the end, but you don’t collect our souls. You don’t rule over us after we die. If there weren’t anybody or anything, who would you come for? What purpose would either of you have if it weren’t for us? Us mortals, or even the immortals? The people who inhabit this place and Elsewhere? You have only as much power as we give you. And I say that we’ve had enough!”
Death crouched on the ground to peer into my face. Previously, I had been afraid to ever look too deeply into his eyes. They were nothing but voids, empty and impossibly dark. But now, I stared back and was unafraid. Because all that looked back was me. And Charlotte. Mary. Machiavelli. Yolanda. Agravaine. All of us.
“It is an interesting theory,” Death said, tilting his head.
“It’s more than a theory. Life here draws her power from the living, but that doesn’t mean she gets to control us. And Death draws his power from the dying, but that doesn’t mean he gets to decide our death. We do. It’s our choice. Yeah, some people will die in accidents or from natural causes. Yeah, some people will be oppressed or beaten down so they don’t really get a chance to live. But you know what? It’s still ours. The past. The future. History is made up of our choices. Okay, sure, we mess up. A lot. But we’re still making our own choices. You two aren’t doing any better than we are; you’re just making it worse, really. You seem to have forgotten your place in this grand order of ours.”
“Your friend Charlotte was destined to die,” Death countered. Life snorted and folded her arms, but she did not argue or fight.
“No,” I said. “She chose to die to save her friend. It’s horrible, and I’m going to miss her, but it’s the truth.”
“Cal,” Mary whispered. I smiled up at her, then turned back to my two charges. They looked down at me with expressions of offended interest and anger. Death watched me like he would a chess game. Life just sneered.
“I was sent here by Time to fix the problems in your relationship. But you know what? I think I was sent here to fix the problems in your relationship with us. You have thrived for years off of the fear that we’ve given you. People are afraid to live just as much as they are afraid to die. But whether we do or not, we don’t need you to whisper in our ears. It’s our choice. Not yours.”
“And what would you have us do?” Life sneered. “Vanish? Leave a void behind?”
“Stop interfering.” I swallowed and tried to get my feet beneath me. I failed, but my words kept rising. “Leave us to make our choices. You are not unimportant. Nor will you be gone, vanished. But you have had too direct an involvement and you have forgotten that we are the ones who gave you power to begin with.”
Death let out a long breath. “You demand a difficult boon, Cal Thorpe. What right do you have for such a demand?”
I held up the Eye of Carteria, still pristine and shining even after all the magic it had wielded. It seemed so innocuous. Yet it had killed two people and I hadn’t even finished accessing its magic. I swallowed down my guilt and shoved it into the faces of Life and Death. “This was created to contain the world of magic to Elsewhere. It was done to keep the two realms separate because their continued involvement was dangerous and destructive. You say that you went to Elsewhere by choice. All I’m asking is that you go back there and remember that choice. You’re not better than one another. Life isn’t greater than Death, only different. And Death may be inevitable, but only because of Life. We’re the ones with the power. So leave us to use it how we will.”
Death said nothing for a moment. I searched Life’s expression, hoping to see any signs of what she thought, but she turned her face away from me, chin lifted. I looked back to Death, whose expression was as unreadable.
“It is possible you have a point,” Death conceded after a few more beats. “Our…roles have been muddied for some time, now.”
“What, you want to just leave?” Life demanded of her husband. Death stood and held out his hand, dark power shimmering there.
“Cal is right, my love. We are not of this world. We are created by the beings here, fed power by them. That does not give us the right to do more than we ought.”
Life looked around, seeing the bloody remains of her party. All the enjoyment, the passion and power, that was gone now. What remained were three tired humans who had stood their ground simply because there was no one else to do so. Mary was shaking. Machiavelli looked as though he had aged in the few hours since our coming here. And I would have been in literal pieces if not for a chance accident of time travel.
“Very well,” Life said, taking Death’s hand. She looked down her nose at me. “We will restrict our influence to that for which we were meant. But we will not be gone, Calvin Thorpe. Never gone.”
I sighed. “I never figured you would be.”
Then, with barely a whisper, Death and Life vanished back to the places they belonged, hand in hand. I closed my eyes and let my shoulders slump. The Eye of Carteria fell from my hands and I couldn’t find it in me to care. Instead, I tilted my head up to the stars and let out a breath. It was done. There had been a terrible cost. But it was done.
Time to Go
“You know that you haven’t really solved anything.”
I blinked open my eyes and winced at the brightness of the sun glaring in through the window at me. I turned my head away in disgust, slightly surprised at the fact that my muscles were sore and tired and not made of pudding.
“What happened?” I croaked, my throat dry enough that the sounds were barely audible.
“What happened is you passed out.” Machiavelli appeared over me, holding a goblet of something in his hands. I sat up as best I could and took a sip: clear, blessed, sweet water. It occurred to me that I hadn’t tasted pure water since arriving in 1494. This was something wonderful to behold, crisp and even slightly cool. I sat up more, taking the last of the water and letting out a groan at the protest of my muscles.
“Passed out?” I asked. Machiavelli nodded. He looked surprisingly well rested, considering what had just happened to us. What…I sank my head back down on the bed, remembering everything clearly. Despite all my efforts, I had failed to save Charlotte. She had still died. And Life and Death were still just as powerful and dangerous as ever, even if they were in Elsewhere. Not to mention they probably now had it out to get me.
“Indeed. Almost as soon as those two left, you fainted. The Author—that is, Mary—has assured me I am to use the term ‘passed out’ as a more pleasing statement. But whatever you wish to call it, we were a little annoyed that we had to practically carry you back here. Through fields. In the dark. You’ve been asleep for two days, now.”
“Two days!” I sat up swiftly, not thinking of my sore muscles or the splitting headache the movement gave me. I hissed and pressed the heel of my palm to my head. I was a little confused as to why my lack of soul didn’t prevent me from feeling this pain. My grief for Charlotte’s sacrifice was less than what it should be—in fact, I hardly felt that at all—but I still had a splitting headache and sore muscles after sleeping for two days?
I would rather have felt the grief. It didn’t seem fair.
“Indeed,” Machiavelli said, smirking slightly. He poured more water from a jug and handed it to me. I sipped this one slowly, my eyes narrowed against the light. “Apparently, being immune to dying does not mean that your body feels no toll from your exertions. Mary was surprised that you did not just dissolve into nothingness, though I gather that was more wishful thinking.”
I closed my eyes and barely managed to set the water aside before my hands started trembling. “I didn’t want Charlotte to die,” I said.
Machiavelli rested a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “I know,” he said. “And Mary knows, also. It does not mean she does not feel pain, but she understands. I think. She has been downstairs, using up all my paper and ruining my quills, barely sleeping.”
“Maybe I should talk to her,” I said. Before Machiavelli—or my own mind—could convince me that I was wrong, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. I was wobbly, but I did not fall over. That was good enough for me.
I reached for my old clothes folded on a stool in the corner—that is, my clothes from the future—and shoved my limbs into them automatically. I suppose it would have been better to take the clothes that Machiavelli offered, but it felt good to be back in something familiar, even if it was all I had. I found the remains of my phone in the pouch where I had last left it. The screen had been cracked and no matter what I did, it would not power on. I imagine it had died during my fight with Charlotte. I hoped I wouldn’t be needing it, but I slipped it into my pocket in any case. I didn’t want to leave behind any of the pictures I had taken. I didn’t want to forget.
“You are leaving,” Machiavelli said, watching me lace my shoes on. I blinked, startled.
Was that why I wanted to wear my own clothes?
“I suppose I am,” I replied. “I’ve done what I was meant to do. I think. Though I’m not sure that things will have improved between Life and Death in my time.”
“I did not think they would. You were very eloquent there, but those two…their natures are firm and unchanging. We mortals may have the ability to choose, but I am not sure they do.”
I nodded. Swallowed. Said nothing. “Yeah,” I agreed. “But I had to try.”
“I know.” Machiavelli helped me to stand again and then held the door open for me. I slipped out of the room and went down the stairs to find Mary precisely where Machiavelli said she would be. At my entrance, she paused in her scribblings, ink stains on her fingers and nose, eyes narrowed.
“You,” Mary said flatly.
“Hello,” I said. “Look…I’m sorry about the way that things went down. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I tried to contain the power, but I wasn’t fast enough. I wanted to save her, not…you know.”
“That doesn’t change what happened,” Mary said. She lowered the quill to the table and rose. She, too, I noticed was looking differently than she usually did. In fact, she looked more like Charlotte than Mary. She wore men’s clothing, the sort that was easy to move in and fight in. Instead of her belt and pouches, she had a satchel on the table, open to reveal some of her scrolls and charcoal. Underneath that lay Charlotte’s greatsword, oiled and glistening.
