Roar, page 39
A wedding would be a welcome thing she thought. Especially after all this tragedy. And it would be good to finally be able to wear a proper dress instead of these damned flared trousers she seemed to be stuck with.
“But that's not all the good news. Tell Camille and her mother what you found.” Potaine instructed him.
“My father's journal.” He shrugged. “But I don't see what's so good about a thousand year old tattered journal I found in the remains of his study.”
“Because child, it tells how your father created the Tri-consular Orb in the first place. And that in turn brings hope.”
“Hope?” Camille asked.
“Well, perhaps not certainty but certainly some answers.” The Oracle fixed her with an eyeless stare. “You see, when the Eternal King first created the Orb, he had one other thing to do. Actually he did it before he built the Orb. He sought out The Guardian. The sphinx that stands watch between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead. And he killed the beast.”
“He killed the sphinx?” Camille didn't understand, and she didn't see the importance of it.
“Well, yes and no. He found a way to the sphinx's temple. Then he fed it a concoction of the most deadly poisons known to man. And then he watched as the great beast withered before his eyes. Turning to stone. He had to kill him, or the sphinx would have stopped him from building an alternate gateway to the underworld through the Great Dream. In fact, I am pretty sure the Guardian would have killed him for trying.”
“Alright …?”
“The sphinx however did not live alone. He lived in a world somewhere between the realms of life and death and was tended to by a faithful servant named Anders. When the Guardian lay dying his servant came running out to him, to see what was happening, and laid his hands on the great beast. And when he did so, the Eternal King witnessed a transfer of some sort of light from the beast to the servant, before the sphinx turned to stone. Seeing that the Eternal King stabbed the servant. But then just as he was leaving the temple, he saw a small boy rushing to the man. He assumed that it was the servant's son. Thankfully for us he thought no more of it and left the boy alone. He recorded that he saw no point in killing the child.”
“And?”
“Girl, you are slow today! The boy? Ander's son?” Potaine stared at her. “A thousand years ago. With languages and names changing. Ander's son becomes Endorson. And the spirit of the guardian is carried down the family line. Passing from father to son until it finally reached Thorm. Thorm is the descendant of the servant, charged with carrying the essence of the sphinx within him – though even he didn't understand that.”
“It's a jest really. A cosmic jest. All of us have been trying to answer a single question since Thorm arrived – how could a man be transformed into a lion? Because it was impossible. Did your mother do it? Did Thorm? It never occurred to us, not even to the man himself, that it didn't happen. There were always two … beings there sharing the one flesh.”
“Jest or not he's still dead.” Camille hated to say it, but it was the truth.
“Oh, I very much doubt that. For a start did you see anyone die?” The Oracle arched an eyebrow at her.
“Well of course I didn’t,” Camille answered her, a little annoyed. “It all took place down the bottom of the chasm. We do know though there was some sort of huge explosion and that nothing could have survived. Nothing was left. The Eternal King is most definitely dead.”
“True. But I suspect the sphinx cannot be killed for a start. I think that all that happened was that it left this plain of existence. It finally went home to its world between life and death. And now that it has done so, order has been restored so that the living may not enter the underworld save in the natural way and the dead may not enter the living realm. The Guardian once more stands watch. All is once again as it should be.”
“All?” Camille pointedly looked around at the ruined magical city and the endless graves still being dug. Many of them to be filled with unknown bodies.
“It is terrible Girl. But think how many more would be dead had the sphinx's return not been planned. There would be none left to bury the dead.”
“Plan? Someone planned this?” Camille found that hard to believe.
“Of course. The sphinx always had to return to his station. The King's short cut around his realm had to be closed. So someone arranged for that to happen.”
“First the children were born. The final Endorson to carry the sphinx's spirit. And the scion to bring about the final battle as it needed to be. Everything follows from that. Mara's endless bad luck as she called it as her plans fell apart. Was it really bad luck – or the needs of the sphinx as it did what it had to do to be reborn, something her plans might have upset? The girl's mother was given a prophecy that would make sure she would not allow her daughter's gift to be used until the time came. But the spell she cast failed at just the right moment and the scion was freed to act. The sudden growth of your gift I see has now fallen quiet again. It's no longer needed.”
“Aren't prophecies supposed to be true?”
“As it was. But what exactly was prophesied? Not quite what your mother thought. She was told that you would deliver the living to the gates of the underworld. And you did exactly that. It's just that you brought them here to fight when your mother believed you were to deliver them to their deaths.”
“And why did you stab Thorm? Because you were angry? Or because your anger was a tool for the sphinx to manipulate as it struggled with the next stage of its rebirth? Did you really harm Thorm? Or did you finally begin the process of separating the sphinx and Thorm so that the guardian could be reborn? And then towards the end when Thorm suddenly recovered his wits. Why was that? My thought is that it was because it was time for the sphinx to re-emerge from his host. The sphinx and the servant were becoming two separate beings once more.”
“Then too, why could we not find Thorm's family? We searched high and low, but never heard a whisper of what had happened to them. Were they that good at hiding? Or did the sphinx when it first started being reborn, send them back to his home so they would be safe? Don't forget, they have also been his loyal servants.”
“If I had to hazard a guess – and my Mistress will be able to tell me more once her High Temple is rebuilt – the sphinx has now closed the tear between worlds and then returned to his temple between the realms of life and death, taking his loyal servant home with him.”
Could she be right? Camille couldn't be sure. It seemed a lot to guess based purely on a name in an ancient journal. But she suddenly realised that she wanted her to be. Even if Thorm never returned to this world, the idea that he was still somewhere out there, alive and well, was a good one.
“Wait! You think Thorm's still alive out there, somewhere?” Mara jumped into the conversation suddenly. “In this realm between life and death?”
“I think he may be,” the Oracle answered her.
“And that ancient wretch of an alchemist somehow found a way down to the realm a thousand years ago?”
The Oracle nodded.
“Then boy,” she turned to Gabe, “I want that book! Whatever that worthless ancient apothecary could do, I can do better!”
“What?” Camille was caught by surprise.
“He will not get away from me! I will have my Thorm back!” Mara answered her. Then she grabbed Gabe by the arm and started frog marching the confused young man back to the city while the others watched in disbelief.
“I've said it before, and I'll say it again,” Matilde eventually announced. “That woman is a bakers dozen of misfiring spells!”
Maybe so, Camille thought as she watched the pair disappearing into the distance. But Mara might be one of the most dangerous and determined women she had ever seen. She wouldn't put anything past her.
In any case she eventually decided, she and her mother had been out here staring at the chasm for at least an hour. That was a long time, especially when she knew what was sure to come shortly – rain.
“We should head back inside.” Though of course “inside” was a less than accurate word lately when half of Strongheart had no roof anymore and a lot of the walls were gone as well. “Get something to eat. And start making plans.”
The last of course was the important part Camille suddenly understood. There had been sadness a plenty of late. Misery and pain. And there would likely be more to come. But there was also hope. They had made it through the darkness, and now there was light ahead. They just had to start walking towards it. It might not be easy. But it was still waiting for them.
It was time to start walking.
Chapter Forty Three
As Thorm woke he discovered that whatever he was lying on was cold and hard. Particularly on his bare flesh.
Bare flesh! Thorm’s eyes flew open as he looked down his form. Gone was the fur, the four legs, the wings and tail. He had fingers! Toes! Skin!
For the longest time Thorm remained lying on the floor, staring down on his body in wonder. It had been so long! For a time he had thought it would be for the rest of his life. But suddenly he was himself again. Almost. He didn’t feel well. Or rather, he felt like he was ready to explode. To release whatever it was that was inside him. It didn’t make sense.
Thorm crawled to his feet, and then stood unsteadily on them for the first time in years, shocked at how tall he was. How high his head was off the ground. And at how poor his sense of balance was. He had to keep swinging his arms out wide to prevent himself from falling. But then it had been years since he had stood on just two legs and it felt strange. In fact for a time he wondered if people were really meant to stand on just two legs.
And where were his clothes?!
But eventually he managed to find his balance. Enough at least to start looking around. And to realise that he was in no place he had ever been before. No place that made sense. Because there was nothing to see save for an endless marble floor extending in all directions further than he could see. Some glowing markings on it, one of which he was standing on. And right in the centre of it a statue of the sphinx. A gigantic statue as tall as a castle.
What was this about, he wondered, even as he found himself walking clumsily toward it. And why was he walking toward it? Especially naked?! He could have stopped he supposed. Maybe. But even as he thought of it, he wondered why he would want to. Because there was absolutely nothing else anywhere for as far as he could see save for the statue. Where else could he go?
Then it was too late to wonder. He was standing right in front of the sphinx, close enough to touch it, and unexpectedly his hand was reaching out to do just that.
A moment later his fingers touched the stone paw in front of him, and the world went mad. He could feel the vitality in him suddenly burning brightly, tearing its way out of him, almost cooking him from the inside as it did so. And he heard a voice chanting at him in a language he didn't understand. Actually he was fairly sure it was chanting something to the entire world, the words echoing strangely in the air. And while he was frightened and wanted to pull away from whatever was happening, he couldn't. His body was no longer under his control.
Thorm remained where he was, locked in place, unable to pull his hand away from the stone paw he was touching, and the impossible vitality that was inside him flowed out of him like a river in full flood. Out of him and into the statue.
How could there be so much of it? That was what he didn't understand as the power cascaded out of him. It was as though he was a cup holding an entire ocean inside himself. But it didn't matter. As long as it left him it didn't matter. Because he didn't want this strange vitality inside him. It wasn't him. It belonged to someone else. To the statue.
Finally it was done. He felt the last little bit of that raging power leave him and felt an overwhelming sense of relief even as he suddenly ran out of strength and collapsed to the marble floor.
After that he just knelt there on his hands and knees, barely able to keep from collapsing the rest of the way to the floor, and gasped for breath as though a huge load had just been lifted from his shoulders. Strangely he also had a feeling that somehow things had just been set right, though he didn’t quite understand how that could be.
Where had all that power gone? And how had it possibly been inside him? He wondered about that in time – when he had caught his breath and could think again. It had just kept pouring and pouring out of him into the stone. So much of it. But the stone surely couldn't contain it any more than he could. But then he looked up at the statue and saw that it was no longer stone. The stone had gone and in its place was a living breathing sphinx. One with fur. And claws of diamond! One that was staring at him!
“Shite!” Thorm cursed, albeit quietly, as he suddenly realised that he really didn’t want to upset a being of such power, especially when he was currently collapsed in a heap in front of it without any clothes. This was the true sphinx; not whatever he had been. And it was monstrous! And when he looked up into its glowing greens eyes he felt even smaller than before. Thorm felt a tremendous desire to be gone from this place – preferably before it decided he looked like a tasty meal.
But where could he go? Thorm wondered about that even as he staggered to his feet once again. He was nowhere he had ever been before. Nowhere that actually existed. Because what sort of place consisted of nothing more than a flat marble floor beneath him that extended to the horizon and the sky above. A place that appeared to be only inhabited by the sphinx and him. And he guessed, it wasn't supposed to have people – or him – in it. Which meant, he eventually realised, that the sphinx was his only way out of here.
“Ahh, excuse me.” He looked up into the glowing green eyes and again felt weak. “I'm glad you're better, but if you don’t mind I’d like to go home now. Do you think you can help me with that? Please?”
He was glad the sphinx was feeling better?! Even as he said it he found himself wondering what he was saying. The sphinx hadn't been poorly. It had been dead! You didn't get better from dead! Or from being made of stone! Still, it was now neither of those things. Perhaps “better” was the right word after all?
By way of an answer the sphinx opened its mouth and yawned as if it was tired. But as it did so a small patch of light appeared just off to Thorm's side. Seeing it, Thorm realised that it was the way out of this place. He could sense the magic in it. It was a portal.
“Thank you.” He got to his feet and staggered towards it and then stepped through it.
A heartbeat later he was standing on a wooden floor in the kitchen of a small cottage. A man was sitting at the table reading and a woman stood at the stove cooking a meal. And he realised he knew them.
“Mother! Father!” Thorm was shocked. Overwhelmed with emotion. He didn't quite understand what had happened. He hadn’t seen his parents in three long years. Didn’t even know where they had gone and hence, where he currently was. But as his parents started in surprise and then rushed over to wrap him up in their arms, he realised that he didn't care. He had asked to be sent home and he was home. That was all that mattered.
Greg Curtis, Roar
