The Land of Broken Roads

“Should we wake him up?” whispered Antelmu, waking Dirt up. He kept still and pretended like he was still asleep.

“Little ones need to sleep longer,” said Biandina. “But I think I’m stuck. He’s not a tidy sleeper and now I can’t move.”

“Gnaziu is like that. He wakes up sideways half the time. I just crawl out anyway and he stays asleep,” whispered Antelmu, slightly louder.

“Lavisa sleeps on her back like a corpse, but Lisea does that,” said Biandina. “She keeps rolling up and pulling the blanket, too, and Eudossia wakes up and cries because her feelings are hurt that we’d leave her cold.”

Antelmu sounded like he was smiling. “I remember that. Is that what she was crying about?”

“It kept happening, too,” said Biandina.

“Why didn’t you put her in the middle then?”

“Because then Lisea would be pulling the blankets off me,” said Biandina.

Antlemu snickered. “Remember that time when Oraziu—”

“When Oraziu snuck out in the middle of the night and—”

“And slept with the neighbors?”

“Yeah. How could I forget?” said Biandina, laughter in her voice.

From the tone of the conversation, Dirt gathered that nothing horrible had happened during the night. He’d had a good dream, too, one with Socks and the others that he was already beginning to forget. The pup had gathered the three of them to fly through fields of spring butterflies and wildflowers, which made Dirt suspect he didn’t like the winter as much as he said. There had been no hint of the fae.

Antelmu shuffled and moved around noisily, but Dirt didn’t want to open his eyes just yet and see what he was doing. “You know what that made me think of? I don’t remember falling asleep last night. I think the last thing I remember, is Dirt saying we’d fall asleep before we knew it. I remember thinking that was stupid, but he was right.”

Biandina was quiet for a moment, then whispered back, “Same. I think he carried us both up here after we fell asleep.”

“I never know what he’s thinking. He’s so odd. One moment he’s a hopping little foal and the next he’s—”

“The next he walks like he has thirty healthy grandchildren,” said Biandina. Dirt was gathering that they interrupted each other more often when they were getting along than when they were not, which he found curious.

“Yeah. Do you think he’s ticklish?” asked Antelmu.

“I think we’ll have to find out,” said Biandina. “Although, with his strength, we might be starting something we’ll regret.”

“Why, are you ticklish?” asked Antelmu.

Biandina snorted with a little tremor that might have woken Dirt up if he wasn’t already awake. A hint of mischief crept into her voice as she said, “Do you know what the only answer to that question is?”

“What?”

“I’m about to throw up.”

Antelmu had to think about it for a second, but then he snickered again. “You shouldn’t have told me that.”

“It’s my job to teach you wisdom, little brother. And if you try tickling me, I’ll tell Dirt you’re ticklish. Good luck keeping away from his squirmy little fingers forever.”

“I’ll tell him you’re twice as ticklish,” said Antelmu.

They lay in silence until Biandina’s hand suddenly clamped on Dirt’s arm and she shouted, “Get him, now!”

“What?!”

“He’s awake! Get him!”

Antelmu tossed the blankets aside and jumped over before Dirt could get away, no matter how he twisted. Biandina was almost twice his age, so it wasn’t fair to begin with.

Dirt was already laughing before Antelmu sat on his legs and snaked his fingers into Dirt’s armpits, but it turned out Dirt was profoundly ticklish. He laughed so hard he got lightheaded. Antelmu was an expert, and merciless. Dirt couldn’t so much as budge unless he inhaled mana, and he was worried if he did that, he might injure someone. Only when he started gasping for air did Biandina give her brother a nudge to end it.

Antelmu was wary the rest of the morning, anticipating Dirt’s revenge, but Dirt was patient. He was no lazy predator. No, he’d learned from the best, and would wait until the right time to strike. A moment when his prey would never expect and couldn’t get away.

Dirt didn’t tickle him while they revived the embers and got another coal burning to cook a little more meat for breakfast and warm up. Nor did he pounce when they went out again to poke through the ruins looking for anything interesting they’d missed.

They found a small tree, fallen and dead. Little more than a dry log, a trunk. That was treasure enough for the day, and Antelmu insisted on hefting it up to carry on his shoulders, alone.

Just to be sure, Dirt waited until the boy had gone twenty steps before he struck. He darted up behind Antelmu and went for his armpits. Antelmu gave an unmanly squeak and tried not to laugh as he danced away, but Dirt was faster and both of Antelmu’s arms were occupied holding the little log.

He tried to drop it, but Dirt tipped the end back up with his mind and prevented him. That was the only cheating Dirt did—keeping the log in place with his mind. The rest was all physical prowess. Antelmu could only hold in his laughter for a few steps before he started laughing high and free like water falling over rocks, and no matter where he went, he couldn’t quite get away.

Dirt decided Antelmu had had enough when he tumbled face first into the snow, unable to get his arms free to stop his fall. That would teach him to ambush Dirt. The older boy was cunning, though, and only acted like he was giving up until the moment he got the log off his shoulders.

All in all, Antelmu got the better of him throughout the day. Dirt was quick, but Antelmu had a clear size advantage and a lot more experience. He knew better how joints moved and how to wrestle an opponent to trap them, and Dirt had never needed to learn.

The day was easy and passed quickly, full of games and jokes. Not just tickling, either. Stuffing little handfuls of snow down each other’s backs. Biandina, surprisingly, was the best at that, in part because she was tallest. She kept hiding the snow in her hood or the fur hem of her clothes and getting the boys when they looked down and created a gap at the neck.

The only real work they had to do that day was stuff the deer hide into water and let it sit. It would probably take too long to finish soaking and they’d have to leave it behind, but there was no way to tell for now, and no reason not to get it started. Dirt grew a stone basin and they filled it with water, which he had to periodically re-heat with a magic ember.

Despite everyone’s good spirits, Biandina and Antelmu kept looking out the windows, or back over their shoulders, or up at the exterior walls, and so on. Neither of them said anything about it, but it was clear they wouldn’t forget the fae until they left the tower behind forever. Dirt checked periodically for minds, but found nothing, nor did he expect them. Not until nightfall.

Late in the afternoon, while the three of them were sitting around a fire entirely of wood, which Dirt had grown into a respectable supply, Socks announced, -Hello, Dirt. I am coming tomorrow. My sister wants to meet you. Tell Biandina and Antelmu not to run away when they see her.-

Dirt stood up and said, aloud, “Did you learn how to find my mind from far away?”

The other two gave him startled looks, but Biandina figured it out and whispered, “Socks.” Antelmu nodded and went back to poking the burning logs with a stick to see the embers flake off one by one.

-No, the reason I can’t is because I am too young. But I am a little better at speaking than before. I am only talking to you even though they are right there,- said Socks. He sounded proud of himself, and it was probably justified. The pup could only see this far with ghost sight, but targeting a thought without directing it at a mind sounded prohibitively difficult, and Dirt would never get the chance to try. He didn’t have ghost sight. -Goodbye for now, little Dirt.-

Dirt waved goodbye and sat back down. “Socks said he’s coming back tomorrow and bringing his big sister. Socks says not to be scared at how big she is. And don’t worry about trying to act like a humble wolf. You don’t have to lay on your back to show your stomach, or try to lick her lips. Nothing like that. Just bow and act like a humble and polite human. They know the difference.”

“How big is she?” asked Biandina, hiding her nervousness.

He picked up a spare log from the pile and spoke the magic to start reshaping it. “I’m not sure. Older wolves can get really huge. But Sock said a little while ago that he’s about two-thirds of his adult size. I guess it depends on how long ago they grew up.”

“How huge do older ones get?” asked Antelmu.

“Socks’s Father is probably a little taller than this tower. Same as Mother,” said Dirt. He guided the length of wood into a human shape, then decided to make it look like a Knight from Ogena, with armor.

“Are they dangerous?” asked Biandina.

Dirt chuckled. “More dangerous than you can imagine. I get scared just thinking about them, because my body remembers what it saw, even though I know in my mind they won’t hurt me unless I do something to Socks. They’re a thousand times more terrifying than the Eye. I don’t think there’s anything alive in the world that could possibly be Father’s match, except maybe Mother, but he’s older and a little bigger. If you see Mother or Father, your only hope is that they don’t care enough to notice you. Or that they’re feeling friendly.”

The Devourer might be Father’s match, but only because he was dead, and how do you kill a spirit? You don’t, apparently, or Father would have a long time ago. But Dirt wasn’t sure if he was at liberty to mention the Devourer to anyone else, so he didn’t. Socks could tell them if he wanted to.

“Are they ever feeling friendly?” asked Biandina.

“Oh, sure. They’re even kind sometimes. Merciful. They’ve each saved my life. Father did twice. Once he told me how to find my way back to the forest so I wouldn’t starve, and once he scared off… I’m not really sure what it was, but it was dangerous. And Mother healed my arms after the… after they got broken,” said Dirt. He tried to remember if he’d told them about Home hugging him or not. It might be a story better left untold, or they’d both be scared of visiting the forest.

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” said Biandina, forcing a bit of optimism.

“Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. It would take less than a flick of a finger for them to kill you. A mere thought is all it would take. We’re all only alive because they don’t care enough to bother getting rid of us. And I happen to be useful to Socks. They’re strict, and they expect perfect obedience. Never give them anything less. In fact, that’s probably good advice for dealing with any of Socks’ family. But especially them.”

Antelmu and Biandina sat quietly and watched Dirt whispering to the toy soldier to adjust its shape with magic. He realized he didn’t have a very good idea how all the armor pieces fit together, but it didn’t really matter. It was just something to do. It would be good enough to show them what a knight looked like. Maybe he should do a horse next, one with armor. Antelmu would probably like that.

Dirt said, “It almost feels sacrilegious to say this, since they’re so far above me. But I really do appreciate Mother and Father. I’m fond of them both. I respect them. And I think, if I dare admit it, I’m happy to see them. And I trust them, so much that if they decided to kill me, I wouldn’t even mind. It’d be for Socks’ benefit if it happened and I’m okay with that. Not that I’m planning on it. I want to grow old again. But if it did.” He bent the wooden knight’s arm to raise it, then gave him a sword.

“How can you be okay with just getting killed like that, though?” said Antelmu, uneasy. He seemed repulsed by the very idea.

Dirt set the toy down and looked at him, brows furrowed, while he thought how to put it.

“Sorry,” said Antelmu.

“No, that’s a good question. I’m not upset. I just love Socks that much. I wouldn’t want to stay alive, knowing that dying could have helped him reach his full potential,” said Dirt. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“That seems a little obsessive, Dirt,” said Biandina.

“Is it? Do you think so? Don’t you feel that way about your tribe? Something bigger than you, that’s more important? Your family, maybe?”

“I wouldn’t phrase it like that,” said Biandina. “But I would risk everything for them, since you ask. And I did. Look where it got me.”

“Maybe you regret how it turned out, and wouldn’t do it twice if you had the chance to go back. But I bet you don’t regret being the kind of person willing to do it in the first place,” said Dirt.

“I’m willing, too,” said Antelmu.

“Of course. Here you are, proving it by sitting there,” said Dirt. “I love Socks in part because he’s my best and closest friend, and it’s impossible not to love someone like that. But I also cherish what he can become. It’s astounding and magnificent and worth protecting.”

Dirt picked up a second length of wood and started shaping it. Once it got roughly horse-shaped, it didn’t look right, so he decided to make a gryphon instead. A gryphon knight.

“I guess,” he admitted with a droll little grin, “that might be him rubbing off on me. That’s how he thinks about it. He loves being a wolf.”

“Do you love being a human?” asked Biandina.

Dirt gave her a gentle smile and said, “I do, and do you know why? Because I saw the Sunset Empire. I know what we can become, too.” They wouldn’t know what he meant, but it still felt good to give such an honest answer.

“Ah, Avitus, you always were a noble spirit,” said Incantatus, elbows resting on the windowsill as he peered inside. “A true statesman.”

Antelmu and Biandina both jumped, startled, and screamed when they saw the fairy’s coloring. They scrambled to find weapons. Antelmu grabbed a log, and Biandina found a rock.

Incantatus looked less human in the daylight than he had at night. His violet hair sparkled and shimmered in the sunlight like the surface of a pond, and the pale blueness of his skin seemed to glow with a light of its own. He wore the same golden headband and senatorial toga as the night before.

“And who are your friends? May I have your names?” he asked, turning his violet eyes to the other children.

“Don’t! Don’t say it!” said Biandina.

“Why not?” whispered Antelmu, holding the log in both hands. He was acting ready to strike but it looked ridiculous.

“I don’t know! I just remember that!” whispered Biandina harshly.

“Oh, come now, friends of my friend. How can I call you if I don’t know your names?” he said. His high-pitched masculine voice was smooth as honey. “You have no need to fear me. I am not your enemy. Nor am I an enemy to Avitus, despite his wariness.”

“I’m pretty sure there are things you’re not telling me, despite claiming to be a friend,” said Dirt. Incantatus’ mind was as immaculate as a pool of clear water, but Dirt probed it with his mental fingers anyway, searching for anything the strange little man didn’t intend to give away.

“I have an answer for every question you ask, and always will. But surely, you feel the pull already, do you not? You hunger and cannot be filled,” said Incantatus.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dirt. “I feel normal. You’re not even trying to put me to sleep, so what am I supposed to feel different about?”

Incantatus scowled and Dirt caught a hint of dismay floating across his mind. Dismay and confusion. The fairy said, “You always were a stubborn one, Avitus. Stubborn and prideful. And not without reason, after so many accomplishments. Do you remember the blessing you gave the Emperor’s own domicile? They praised you from one end of the empire to the other for that. But this is not a time for stubbornness and pride, my friend. Do not try to fight it. Surely you feel the call.”

“I really don’t. And stop acting like you know me. We’ve only met once.” Dirt knew someday he’d have to explain who he was, but he’d really prefer for them not to put it together on their own as a result of this conversation. They likely would, though, if they remembered the story he’d told their family before leaving.

“I do not know you? Is that what you think? If so, you do not understand me, and do not know what I am. I know you better than you know the inside of your eyelids. Come, Avitus. Come with me. Hasten, before the sun sets,” said Incantatus, his violet eyes piercing and insistent.

Dirt was catching more and more of the little man’s mind, but found no answers. It felt like the man was asleep, still dreaming, but aware. But his desire for Dirt to join him seemed free of ill intent. No concealed trickery that Dirt could find, just genuine concern.

“Who are you?” blurted out Biandina. She raised her rock threateningly. “Tell me!”

Incantatus turned his gaze to her again and the sharpness faded from his features. “Dear girl, surely you don’t mean to hit me with that. Put it down. I have done nothing to warrant threats and violence.” He smiled warmly at her and showed his empty palms. “See?”

She squinted and looked over his shoulder, as if seeing something that wasn’t there. The rock lowered a few inches.

The mind of Incantatus was no longer alone. More had come, sneaking and quiet. They were gathering, hiding their thoughts. But all together, they gave off an impression that reminded Dirt of a youth about to win a prize in a market game. They felt they were close.

Dirt considered sending mental spikes of wakefulness and driving them off, but each time Incantatus shifted his focus to someone else he, the shield he placed over his thoughts dipped slightly. There might still be more to learn.

“Why not come take a little peek, just enough to see what I’m offering? You can leave any time you wish. You don’t even have to come all the way in,” said Incantatus. “You might even find Prosperu in there waiting for you.”

“He’s dead,” said Biandina.

“Indeed, he is,” said Incantatus. “And where do the dead go? Can you say for sure he hasn’t joined us?”

“Liar,” said Antelmu, venom in his voice. He threw the log right through the window, and Incantatus leaned slightly to let it pass.

“Young man, I never lie. I cannot lie. It is impossible for me,” said Incantatus. He was withholding something, though. Dirt could feel it.

“Nor can you ever tell the truth,” said Dirt.

“Ah, wonderful! You begin to remember,” said Incantatus.

“Nope, lucky guess,” said Dirt. “You live in the dream, don’t you? Like the elementals live in the world of magic?”

“And how do I answer that, if I can neither lie nor speak truth?” said Incantatus, laughing. “But I will ask again, Avitus. Do you not feel thin? Do you truly not feel the pull?”

“I truly have no idea what you mean,” said Dirt. “I don’t even have to pee.”

“Then regretfully, you may have lost your chance. I wished for you to come as a guest. Are you certain you will not follow me and see my realm?”

“Not right now,” said Dirt.

Someone threw Antelmu’s log back inside, aiming right for the boy’s head. He only barely dodged it, but when it hit the wall, it exploded into a puff of smoke. The things hiding outside laughed and tittered. After that, their mind-lights quickly began to fade. They were retreating.

Incantatus said, “Then I shall come again at midnight when the half-moon rises and you are on the verge of death. At that time, I shall bear for you a chain.”