The Scholar's Tale (Original Fantasy)

Book III, Chapter 6

'Ib?' I breathed softly, then felt stupid for it. There was no air in my mindscape, because why would I have needed to breathe here? There was no need for silence, either, unless I was missing something. Alright, I did have a tendency to annoy myself when thinking about certain things, but it wasn't like my subconscious would evict me if it got upset. If it could have, it'd have happened already.

I scoffed. That point in life when assuming the worst is comforting...

'Yes, Ryz?'

'Do you think...' I gestured at the moon, and the silver chain leading to it. 'Do you have any idea what these could represent?'

'I daresay one of you memories might be related to the moon, friend.'

I turned, giving it my most deadpan look, and a blank face stared serenely back. I could still practically hear it chuckling, the big lug. 'A bold assumption,' I said dryly. 'In lieu of better alternatives, I say we take it.'

Ib nodded, becoming more serious. It seemed...pleased with me, for some reason, or - no. Relieved? My eyes narrowed as I realised my arcane sense was either becoming sharper in general, or here, in the palace of my mind. It had to be good for something, nothing as draughty as this ugly hovel had any right to be useless.

But then, I'd been let down by enough people who'd been just what they'd seemed, or even worse. Thankfully, few had fallen in the second category. When you had no expectations, it was hard to be disappointed, but some did their best.

'Ib?' I asked carefully, warier of some hidden danger than the giant's temper. After all, I didn't know how close I was to being jumped by some repressed memory, forgotten nightmare or mental predator. 'Why did you relax when I agreed with you?'

'Am I not allowed to enjoy unity between friends, when this fog conspires to drive us apart?' it asked, five arms folded. One was raised, palm up, almost like a lumpen caricature of a reasonable philosopher.

It must've been goading me. Using visual cues to make me realise something. Because it would've been dangerous to tell me directly? Or because it was so concerned with my free will, with not stunting my growth?

Was there even a difference, as far as it was concerned?

I smiled darkly. How was Ib becoming harder to understand now that we - and it - knew the truth about it? Maybe I was just more comfortable with lies. Or ignorance. Ironic, with how my magic was to remember, but that was Midworld for you. If it so rarely gave people what they needed or deserved, why should it have given them powers that suited their temperaments?

'Of course you are,' I replied smoothly. 'Apologies. I am...still on edge.'

'Don't worry,' it said patiently. Reassurance, or veiled advice? Don't think about upsetting it, focus on the memory? Don't think about it, so it could do whatever it wanted?

A small part of me hoped I was still being influenced by the fog, absurd as it might've sounded. I liked to think I'd gotten over being that paranoid, at least when it came to my crewmates.

Nodding, I turned my attention back to the moon, and the chain leading to it. I gingerly tapped a link with one fingertip, and the whole chain swayed, making a faint whistling sound, as if there was air moving through the links.

Just more confirmation this place worked nothing like Midworld. In reality, the moon floated infinitely high above the waters, only visible by dint of its nature, which cared nothing for the laws of science. If the moon had been just as far away here, and the chain long enough to reach it, it would've been endless, and I couldn't have moved it at all, let alone with such a light touch.

Either I imagined myself far stronger than I was, or the moon and its chain as much less of a challenge. There was an obvious metaphor there, I was sure, just as I was sure I was missing something.

'Ib?' I traced the chain with one hand, not looking at my friend. 'I know you've already saved me - and I'm thankful for that, don't misunderstand - but I fear I might have to ask something of you again.'

Ib harrumphed. 'We're friends, Ryzhan. Why are you acting like I've got some reservoir of kindness you're afraid to use up? I'll always help you, and I don't want to hear any nonsense about debts.'

I smiled guardedly. 'Good to hear.' The chain swayed gently as I pulled my hand away from it. 'But that wasn't really what I was cagey about. I've been trying to access this memory, or whatever the moon is or leads to, as we've been speaking, but I can't. It's like it's slipping between my fingers, always moving out of reach. I was wondering if you'd mind giving me a boost.'

It hesitated, shifting on its heavy feet. 'I could do that.'

'Yes, I know you could,' I said, unsurprised by its halting voice. 'That's why I asked if you'd mind. I know I was a pushy bastard in the hallucination, but you know I'm not really like that.' Anymore. At least, not to everyone.

'Ryz, if I minded doing as I'm told, I wouldn't be working for Mharra,' it said, forcing a chuckle. 'But I'm not sure it would be for the best, if I solved your problems by myself.'

'Can't your power free you from the indecision? It's clearly holding you back.'

My tone hadn't been sharp, but it still sighed. 'You're jealous.'

Not even a question? Either Ib was better at reading people than I thought, or I'd got rusty at maintaining my mask. 'Of bloody course I am,' I muttered. 'A power that automatically lets you overcome your obstacles? You could bring peace to Midworld, Ib. Stop the deaths caused by nature, or other people. Lift them up.'

'And then what?' it retorted. 'Repeat the process across all creation? Rule over it because I think I know best?'

'I don't know,' I admitted. 'But it's not like anyone could tell you now.'

Its chuckle was more sincere now, though just as joyless. 'You are mistaken, Ryz. There are many beings across and beyond creation who could, at the least, stalemate me. Two of them even gave abilities centred around freedom. I have even less interest in an eternal deadlock than in ruling.'

So, there was some interest. Or maybe not. I wondered if Ib knew about negative numbers, and almost asked, but mathematics never brightened my day. Shelving the idea, I addressed it again. 'I think you're labouring under a misconception, Ib. I asked you for a boost, not a solution.' I tugged the chain. 'I clearly need to brush up on my mental magic, but, for the sake of my laziness, I'd sooner look for a shortcut.' I dropped it a heavy wink, which suited my flat expression perfectly. 'Don't worry. I'll train more once things are back to normal.'

Ib came forward, taking a knee so it could press its forehead to mine. It still took some shapeshifting to bridge the gap, but in the end, we managed.

Ib's body was usually cool, so smooth to the touch your hands would've slipped right off it. More like steel-coloured glass than metal or stone, like its appearance suggested. Now, I winced at the touch. Its forehead was as cold as those bleak islands caught in permanent winter, then instantly heated up until it felt like my skin was boiling, a sensation made worse for the sudden, contrasting change. Ib's forehead became to bubble, becoming sticky, like grey tar, and my reddening face was being inadvertently drawn into it.

I'd sometimes seen exaggerated paintings of people known to be foolish in contemplative pictures, smoke rising from their ears as they struggled to think. My mind clearly needed some adjusting if it'd turned the jokes into reality.

Of course, it could've been Ib's doing, but that would've robbed me of one more excuse to blame myself, and there where would I be?

I felt Ib's power bond with my magic, like metals being alloyed together, even if only briefly. When it pulled back, rising to its feet, I stumbled, the disappearance of the heat as startling as its sudden arrival.

Ib rubbed its chin. 'Do you feel any different, Ryzhan?'

'Stronger.' I shrugged. 'Watch my back, would you?'

'I can do better than that.' Before I could ask what it meant, the giant fell apart into a shapeless mass, which then flowed through the air faster than I could see, slamming into my chest hard enough to almost knock me off my feet. I gasped, more surprised than hurt, as Ib covered me like armour. I somehow knew I could've breathed through my faceplate, had I needed air here.

I glared down at myself, for lack of a better target, when I felt small appendages trying to slip through my skin. 'Watch it.'

'Apologies,' it said sheepishly. 'I just want to protect you, Ryz. I've already failed once.'

My eyes softened. 'I understand. I don't blame you, Ib. You never do less than your best. I'm sure the captain agrees.'

It didn't comment. My optimism, briefly managing to resurface, suggested that maybe, there just wasn't anything to add.

I awkwardly cleared my throat, gesturing upwards. 'I still don't remember anything, but I'll keep trying.'

'You've never had any experience with the moon?' It sounded surprise, and I knew what it meant. No nightmares, no visions or fits upon glancing at it by mistake, or when heeding the call of the void.

'No. I've always been careful. And lucky, I suppose,' I added after some consideration. In this aspect, if no other, I'd been spared. Maybe my nightmares of being caught and tortured by the people I'd left behind left no place for any others. How much horror could one mind break before it broke?

'You're wrong, Ryzhan,' it said firmly. 'You're right that this does not represent a gap in your memories. You did not forget anything about the moon, because people forget by mistake. This...is something you chose not to remember.'

I looked sharply at my hands, wishing Ib hadn't chosen such an awkward way to protect me. 'Are you reading my mind?'

'Ryzhan, we're inside it,' it answered patiently. 'There's nothing to read in the representation of your body.' The armour rippled. 'Perhaps I sounded too sure of myself. Let me rephrase: I think it's a memory you repressed, rather than forgot. The alternative is some implanted order, or other long-term, foreign influence. And I'd recognise that.'

Ah...of course. From experience. 'The most likely option, then?'

'Quite. I'm sure we'll learn more as we go.'

A brief surge of force flowed through my legs, and I took the hint, making my way to the chain. It was as responsive as before - barely, and not at all helpful.

'Try to climb it,' Ib suggested. 'Maybe you must reach the moon.'

Leave it to my mind to put me to work through visual metaphors. Grumbling, I tried to jump onto the chain and walk it as if it were a tightrope, but I just kept slipping and falling off it. Ib had the grace not to comment, and even provide various grips for my feet, but none took.

'Not a word,' I muttered, jumping onto the chain and landing on my belly, limbs wrapped around it. I crawled this way up as if the chain were a rope, like I'd used in my youth to strengthen my body, when my magic was rudimentary. With each movement, the moon seemed closer, for all the endless gap there would've been between us in reality, and I smiled under my helmet. Then, the incomprehensible visage it was rumoured to have appeared, its silver-white surface wrinkling, then splitting. My bond with Ib shielded my sanity, but I still couldn't make sense of what I was seeing. There were jagged maws and leering eyes and all manner of appendages: arms, legs, wings, tendrils, wings, pincers. Often, these features overlapped or combined as they flashed in and out of existence. The moon's laughter rang in my ears, a deep, hollow sound radiating sarcastic amusement.

'Do you think,' I began, more to take my mind off it than to try and drown out the laugh. I doubted all the clamour in Midworld would've sufficed. 'That this is what I think about the moon? Or is the real moon somehow reaching here, influencing me?'

'What difference does it make?' Ib asked. 'We must reach it, friend. As for the real world, don't fret. I've moved your body so it's facing away from the sky, and covered your eyes.'

Just as well...

The moon's surface was even less welcoming up close than it had been from a distance, if that was possible. The pale matter that made it up, if matter it was, boiled and seethed, and I remained on the chain rather than attempt to land on it. I was reminded of the cauldrons that so often featured in tales about witches, where the mangled parts of various creatures were broken down to create even worse abominations.

Somehow, the thought that, maybe, Midworld's monstrous moon was a breeding ground for worse creatures in the making did not cheer me up. My inner cynic would've been appalled, I was sure. Maybe I'd find him on the way down.

Holding onto the chain with both legs, one arm and a myriad small, grasping limbs emerging from my armour, I reached out with my right hand, fingertips barely brushing against the moon. A darting tongue flashed out of a mouth that hadn't been there a moment ago, wrapping around my arm all the way to the shoulder, trying to pull me in. I pulled back, and the chain began cracking as we struggled.

The moon grunted, half confused, half irritated. I got the feeling it hadn't ever been challenged before. It'd never needed to struggle to get something it wanted.

How nice that must've been, I thought to myself, grimacing under my faceplate. And, in that instant when it was distracted, I reached out for its mind, my own intertwined with Ib's, and...

Ah...

Oh, Vhaarn, no...

* * *

I sat on the deck, face pressed into one hand. I tried to fool myself into thinking I wasn't brooding: it was just the fog, which had turned poisonous, attacking my body after it had failed to break my mind. I failed.

Ib, limbless, coiled around me like a protective snake. I'd declined to return to Mharra's cabin, and my rasping voice and unfocused eyes must've alarmed it. I couldn't find it in me to apologise yet, though. I wasn't trying to worry it, just...tired.

Few reacted well to learning most of their life was a lie, plagued and defined by pointless fears. Most of those who did were former prisoners of their own minds, caught in unending nightmares caused by twisted magic or darker sciences. For them, the truth was liberating.

Learning I'd never been pursued, and would never be, unless I made new enemies, should have had the same effect on me. And it would've had, if it hadn't been only half of the memory I'd remembered.

Aina had become monstrous, because of me. Oh, she'd looked at the moon out of a fatalistic impulse, but I'd saved her, only to make things worse with my selfishness. She'd been so devastated by my departure, she'd slaughtered our people and destroyed the islands we'd been living on when I'd left.

My people had never set out after me, if only because they'd never got the chance. Aina had killed them, in a child's mad, unthinking grief. Would they have hunted me if I'd stayed? Perhaps. They'd have exiled me, almost certainly. Pushed me away, until I was a stranger in all but name. My people had been fiercely practical, and I...had been a wounded boy, spitefully lashing out at my parents, who'd been respected for their work and contributions to the community, if not for their manner.

But maybe I should've faced them. I could have, with Aina by my side. Had I not left her, she'd have been a powerful friend; even a lover, one day. Strange, yes, but not mad. And I was hardly the most usual person, either.

Instead, I'd ran, and for what? To save my own skin, out of fears that might or might have not been justified. Not that I'd ever learn, now. I'd chosen cowardice over love, and never found happiness until I'd met my crew.

I'd hurt so many people...cut them off when they needed me most, because I'd got a bad feeling. Led them to their deaths, in ambushes or spots of ocean inescapable to any but me.

Out of fear. Out of fear?

I'd never been chased. All those people I'd tricked and driven off and killed had suffered for nothing. Died for the sake of my paranoia.

I had to make amends.