A Long Journey Home, The Essence of Fate
#6 of A long journey home
Alrighty part six of AbleArcher's request. As before, I hope you enjoy it.
As always, comments are appreciated and requested.
Continued from 'Flames of the heart'
Lucien was floating as if he was on the great sea, but no water touched him. He was warm, and though he could not discern what was around him, he thought that he was safe. He had been floating there for what seemed like forever, nothing touching him, perceiving nothing around him and not truly caring about either thing. But now, his mind began to wander. Though it had been pleasant, the old alchemist was getting bored with being wherever this was. And, gradually, his thoughts began to note things around him, and he perceived a change in the empty black in which he lay, though what it was, he couldn't begin to imagine. Looking all about him, he could perceive nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that had been added, or subtracted from the darkness. And then, slowly, his thoughts turned inward, seeking the change within himself. And then, he realized that the pains of his great age were no more. The arthritis that had been threatening to cripple his hands for years was gone, as was the pain in his back, the weary weight of all his years gone from his shoulders. And gone too was the weight of the problem he had been wrestling with for months. It was as if everything had been reset, the slate wiped clean.
Smiling slightly, the old man reveled in the sensation for a few moments, feeling young once again, stretching to his full height without pain for the first time in decades. And then, even as he wished for it never to end, the darkness began to grey as with a sunrise, though the source of the light was unclear to him. And, with the light, came voices, distant and strange, murmuring in a language he did not understand. He felt his talon laden feet touch something, a surface that was as yielding as soft sand, and yet hard enough that he could stand without difficulty. Gradually, the change as slow as the march of years had been to him, his body's weight settled onto his legs once more, and he stood upright in the gathering dawn, though upon what he stood, he did not know. And then, he perceived a mist hanging about him, ethereal and almost invisible and yet as present as the air that filled his lungs. And then, gradually, as through clouded glass, he saw an image appear below him, though the surface upon which he rested.
It was a neatly appointed room, circular along most of its edge, and neatly furnished. Books bound in leather and hide sat upon an overflowing bookshelf, with more stacked haphazardly beside the comfortable looking bed, the single window illuminating the figure that lay upon it, tucked beneath the quilt as if asleep. The figure had the features of an owl, a pair of spectacles set on top of the books beside him. After a few moments, Lucien noticed, with the same level of concern as one noticing that a cloud had drifted briefly in front of the sun, that this was his bedroom in his tower, and that that was him lying in the bed. And then gradually, he noticed that others were in the room as well, a young man, fully human with brown hair, and a young woman with the features of a ferret, but blonde hair which looked recently brushed. Both were sitting beside his bed, discussing something quietly, but again, he took no more notice of this than of a passing breeze. He watched for a moment as the man gently put his arm around the ferret girl, tenderly pulling her closer and the owl man smiled at the sight. 'Ah, to be young and in love again,' he thought. And then, he looked up from the image, realizing that he was being observed.
Standing even with him in the ethereal mist was another owl man, young it seemed, and yet ancient. He was regarding Lucien with warm eyes and he was about to ask who this person was when an answer swam into his mind. Nodding in acknowledgment to the man who stood there, he waited for him to speak, receiving an answering nod in reply.
"They certainly look happy don't they?" The man said, and Lucien nodded in agreement. "Even though they stand over you as you sleep on and on. A sleep from which you might never wake."
"I do not begrudge the young and in love their happiness." Lucien replied, feeling as comfortable with this odd man as with his own body. "They deserve to be happy after all they have been through."
"Indeed." The odd man agreed. "But what is it that you deserve, alchemist?"
"How do you mean?" Lucien asked, suspecting the answer.
"Have you not done enough already?" He asked, regarding the old man with an even gaze. "You have found a way to solve what was done, to save the villagers if not the village itself. Do you not now deserve to fade, deserve to leave the world in their hands? Do you not now deserve your rest?"
"No, not yet." Lucien replied, the weariness of the world beginning to settle upon him once more as he spoke the words, like the first drops of rain heralding a coming storm. "There is still work to be done. Someday soon perhaps, but not now."
"Are you certain?" The man asked, looking back down at the image swimming beneath their feet. "All you need do is walk away and all the pain, all the problems will be gone. You can finally rest without anything to disturb you."
"Yes, I am certain." Lucien replied, sighing as the weight settled upon him once more, and the pain returned to his body, his back bending beneath its load. "Though it is hard, I am still needed. When that is no longer so, I will go, but until then I must shoulder the burden a little longer."
"So be it." The man replied and the mist began to grow more dense, the man fading into the clouds, the indistinct murmurings of the voices becoming clearer, almost intelligible. "Until later, my friend..."
***
"I wonder how long he will be like this." Olivia said, laying a paw on the old alchemist's feathered brow. "It has been two days already."
"I don't know." Lucas replied, putting an arm around his lover and drawing her close once more. "It could be a while yet."
"I hope he comes out of it soon," She stated, resting her head on his shoulder. "We could sure use his help right now."
"I know." Lucas said, turning his gaze from his comatose teacher to smile at her even as a dark feeling began to overwhelm him. "Olivia, I didn't want to say it before, but Lucien may not ever come back."
"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him in surprise.
"He knew going in that it might cost him his life, I could see it in his eyes." The rifleman explained. "We might have to finish his work without him."
"Not yet, you won't." Whispered a voice and both of them turned sharply, staring at the man who lay in the bed. The owl's golden brown eyes were cracked, a look of utter weariness upon his face, but the eyes were aware, fierce intelligence behind them. Lifting his head from the pillow with a groan as if it was the hardest thing in the world, he spoke again, his voice a hoarse whisper, as if even breathing was wearisome. "How long?"
"More than two days." Lucas replied, helping his teacher sit up while Olivia fetched his canteen from where he had left it. The owl nodded wearily as she put the spout to his beak and tipped it up gently. He managed to swallow about a mouthful before he choked, coughing as his throat refused to accept that it had to work once again. Lucas supported him while he coughed, appalled at how weak his mentor had become. The man had always seemed so strong despite his age. And now, he barely had the strength to drink the life giving water. After a few moments, the coughing quieted and Lucien nodded to his young student, gratefully taking the canteen from Olivia. Taking gentle sips, he seemed to regain some of his strength and Lucas sat back, allowing him to swing his legs over the side of the bed, sitting fully upright once more.
"Where do we stand?" Lucien asked, his voice regaining its force, though it still quavered with its owner's exhaustion.
"About where we were when you collapsed." Lucas replied and Lucien regarded him with a reproving look, making the rifleman look down, chagrined.
"What have you two been doing for the last two days?" Lucien demanded and the pair blushed fiercely, unable to meet his gaze. Suspecting the answer, the owl man quirked a half smile and continued. "I see. Well then, what say we get back to work, hmmm?"
"Are you sure you are up to that?" Lucas asked uncertainly, lifting his gaze as the owl man started to push himself to his feet.
"No time like the present." Lucien replied brusquely, tottering in place for a moment before straightening up, wincing as his back pain returned and looking about for his walking stick, all too obviously pretending not to notice the embarrassment on his companion's faces. "Have you given any thought to how we are going to distribute the potion?" Olivia cleared her throat before replying.
"A little." She answered, "I thought about finding everybody individually, but that would take forever, and there is no guarantee that they would drink it." Lucien nodded his agreement, finally having located the stick in the corner of the room. "And then I had the idea of putting the potion out in the areas where most of the people go, but I don't know if either of those things would work well enough. What do you think?"
"Perhaps a combination of the two would be best." Lucien said, leading the way out of the room and then up the stairs. He went slowly up the spiral staircase, his exhaustion plain, but he was obviously very determined. "Also, when we cure some of the more common species, they can guide their brethren to us and maybe speed up the process."
"I hadn't thought of that." Lucas said, coming up into the workshop to find Lucien examining the two vats of potion critically. "The problem I see is that, according to Olivia, there are a few really odd mixes out there, exotic pet owners and the like."
"Hmmm..." Lucien said to himself, sounding more like an owl than his usual self. "This is true. We may have to seek them out individually. In any case, everything seems to have worked. I think we should get started, though you will have to help me. I have never felt so old, and so tired in my life..."
***
Lucas looked down at the mound of packed earth that held his mother's body, and at the wreath of fresh green holly and the beautifully shaped charm of silver that lay at its center, gleaming in the sunshine. A freshly carved headstone now crowned the grave and Lucas smiled slightly. The storms were finally passing, wispy white clouds starting to shred with the fair winds coming from the south, thin shafts of sun alighting upon the wreath even as he looked at it. Everything the sun shone upon was given a beautiful cast and Lucas could feel at last that whatever force had kept the rain coming had finally been broken. His promise, spoken in despair and sorrow in the days after he had arrived, had been kept. The last words of the funeral blessings, spoken by the weary voice of his teacher, still echoed in his ears, and he smiled sadly as Olivia looped her arm through his. She was clothed now in a dress of the same shade of deep green as his uniform, a dress that had been made by the village's tailor for formal occasions. Seeing his young lover dressed like that, he couldn't help but smile, remembering the days after the potion had been made, and all that had happened since then.
At first, he, Olivia and Lucien had been alone, trying to find a good place to start placing the potion, and then, by the banks of one of the many streams leading out of the mountains and down towards the river on the border of the village, it had been Olivia who had noticed that they were being watched. A trio of deer mixes had been standing on the edge of the clearing, watching them curiously. It had taken them, well to be fair, mostly Olivia, a few minutes to coax them out of the trees, and another few to get them to drink the potion, but like Olivia, they had seemed to like the smell and had drank it down. Then, when the three of them had regained their former selves, it had taken them an hour to explain everything to them. Luckily the three of them had been hunters who had been stalking a deer herd when the spellstone had been shattered, and their instincts and experience had remained after that.
And it was from them that they had learned where most of the transformed Keirnans were living. It turned out, besides those that had been blended with predators, they had all gravitated towards a certain mountain valley, deep within the high peaks that bordered the village's lands, living mostly within sight of one another. And, with the help of the hunters, they had carried an entire caldron's worth of the potion into the valley, and once they had begun giving it out, the process had gone swiftly. Within a single day, fully half of the people had returned. After that, they had spread out through the countryside, all across the territory bordered by the river and the impassible high peaks, seeking out all the others who had survived.
It had taken the better part of two days to get to everyone, but when it was done, when the potion had been consumed to the last drop, it had been wondrous. Lucas didn't know what was the best part, between finding that his little brother Miles was alive after all, now blended with a raccoon, or whether it was seeing all his old friends again, all of them so changed. And finally, when everyone had gathered in the ruins of the old village, families had found each other again, many split among different species. Oddest of all were the few families that were split between predators and prey and who had thus spent months hunting and being hunted by each other. Lucas remembered well that there had been lots of tears and lots of joyful embraces as everyone reconnected with the ones they had lost. And everyone, young and old alike, had sought him out, hugging him and thanking him for what he had done. Of course, that was when things had started turning odd.
As the people started to put their lives back together, and had started to return to the ruined village, they had come to him for advice. Though he was only seventeen, people were acting like he was now the leader of the village. The main trouble was, after slowly losing themselves in their old homes, no one felt like living in the same place anymore. After a number of people had come to him asking his opinion on the matter, Lucas had spent the night discussing it with Olivia. She had come up with the idea of building a wholly new village, up in the valley where most of the people had ended up when they had been lost to themselves. The suggestion had been greeted with great enthusiasm and the work had begun in earnest.
The new village wasn't being built in the style of the old. Instead, some people had started digging down into the ground, some enlarging the burrows in which they had been living, others just starting new ones. Still others were building in the branches of the great trees around them, creating sprawling structures the like of which Lucas had only ever imagined before. But regardless of where and how the villagers chose to build, everyone worked together and already, it was becoming a beautiful settlement.
But still, even as he and his lover worked to expand the burrow where Olivia had been living, he had felt that something was left undone and it had taken days for him to realize what it was. The promise had been hanging over his head like a dark cloud, and he had finally suggested to everyone that they hold a proper funeral, not just for his mother, but for everyone who had died in the days after the strangers had smashed the huge spellstone. And despite the desire to finish their work on their new homes before the winter, they had still found time to honor the dead in the old way. The village's stonemason, a brawny man who was now blended with an ox, making him stronger than ever, had just finished carving new tombstones for the fallen and everyone had spent the morning in the graveyard. Smiling a little, Lucas nodded to Lucien as he patted his shoulder on the way past.
"I am sorry that she is dead." Olivia said, looking at the grave with a solemn expression on her face. "I always liked your mother."
"And she always liked you." Lucas replied, giving her a kiss. "Though I can't imagine what she would think of all this. She was never particularly fond of animals."
Olivia giggled and turned back towards the mountains, though not in the direction that the rest of the villagers were heading. They alone of all the villagers were building their new home away from everyone else. Though everyone had asked them to come and live close by, they both knew that the gully was the right place for them. It had been their favorite place in the world for years before the war had begun, and to be perfectly honest, Lucas felt that he made people uncomfortable, as much as they seemed to want his advice. He got the impression that because he was still human, he reminded the others of what they had lost. And besides, the gully wasn't all that far from the new village, and a more beautiful spot could not be asked for.
"I am going to make one last trip to the old house." Olivia said, kissing his cheek and starting to walk away.
"I think I will stay here a little while." Lucas said, smiling at her. "I won't be long, I promise."
"Ok." She replied, giving him a knowing smile before walking off. Miles was already halfway back to the village, arm in arm with his new mate, a young vixen named Pauline with whom he had been smitten even before Lucas had been drafted. He had moved on already, their mother, like the rest of the occupants of the graveyard, belonging to a past that no longer had ties to him. But it was different for Lucas. Sighing, he picked up his rifle and slung it upon his shoulder once more.
Though he had left the rest of his belongings in Olivia's burrow, he still carried his weapons, all of them still perfectly maintained. It was something that he still hadn't been able to give up, even though he would likely never need them again. Having lived for so long with his life depending on them, he had found it impossible to live without them. A few days ago, he had carefully unloaded his rifle, meticulously washing out the barrel and mechanism with boiling water, and then expertly reassembling the weapon, the ritual still as satisfying as it had been after his first skirmish. But still, it bothered him that his instincts were so present. He wasn't sure he wanted to have them anymore, especially since there was no need for a soldier way up where no others went.
And yet, they were part of who he was now, and he couldn't see himself being without them. Giving a small smile, a silent goodbye to the graveyard, Lucas turned and started to walk after Olivia, his boots treading the path back to the ruined village. But, before he had gone more than a few yards, he stopped, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. His soldier's instincts had awoken suddenly at a sound that did not belong in the serene mountain valley, his body responding as only a veteran's could, unslinging the weapon from his shoulder. It had been the sound of shod hoof beats, the jangle of harnesses and the clink of metal on metal. Turning quickly, Lucas looked around in growing horror, his sharp rifleman's gaze seeking the only thing he knew it could be.
And there, in the trees some two hundred yards distant, in the direction of the river, something was moving, a distinctive movement that all infantrymen, even the elite men of the Rifles, saw over and over in their nightmares. Emerging from the trees in a double line was a half company of cavalry, dressed in the distinctive orange uniforms of Irnathi Light Dragoons. Lucas could see the officer who led them signal a halt, raising up in his stirrups as he stared in amazement at the villagers who were walking towards the old buildings; and, like magic, even as he rose up, the villagers saw them and stopped, staring. For a few moments, the two groups stared at each other in silence and, even at this distance Lucas' gaze discerned the shock on the face of the officer.
And then, as if he were seeing it with his own eyes, an image of the future passed through the young rifleman's mind. The cavalrymen, seeing not people, but monsters, the terrible spawn of alchemical magic, would charge down upon the villagers, their sabers drawn. The shining steel blades would dip low like spears and then they would strike, impaling their first victims, and the villagers would run. And then, the slaughter would begin. He had seen it before in the war, seen what happened when cavalry fell upon panicked men and women, seen the bodies as they fallen, trampled beneath the onslaught of men and horses. 'No,' Lucas thought, beginning to run, unslinging the rifle even as his first step fell on the earth. 'Not here. It won't happen here...'