Winds That Will Be — Aedan's Journal
"Nothing is the Absence of Everything"
Aedan's Journal. Session 3-3-01, Part One.
© 2001 Todd Worrell
Darkness is the absence of light. Utter darkness is the complete absence of light. There was no light, no heat, no air.
Nothing is the absence of everything.
I drifted in the emptiness. Without air, I couldn't breathe. But I wasn't holding my breath. I wasn't breathing, but I wasn't dead, was I? I had a sense of myself, of a body. I could feel my lips pressed together. What cannot be explained, Caine had told me, must be experienced.
A strand of something thin and soft slid across my cheek. I reached up a hand and pulled it away. It was a hair, my hair. It was too long by far to be my hair.
I reached back. I had a long braid of hair going down my back. It fell against something rigid. I touched it for a moment, but the intense cold hurt my finger.
Feeling around lightly, my fingertips just grazed the surface. It was armor, a steel breast-and-back plate. I felt mail beneath it. A torn camail hung loosely around my neck. Beneath it was a necklace, a round stone in a double-crescent mount on a sturdy chain.
I knew this necklace. I wore it around my ankle.
This was impossible. I was wearing armor and my mother's jewelry, floating in an infinite empty void. I denied it, cried out.
My scream flew away from me, swallowed by the blackness.
I was in my mother's body in the Abyss.
* * *
What had surprised me the most at first was that Variga knew him.
"Aedan," the High Priestess had said quietly, "This is your Uncle."
His smell was the first thing I noticed: sweaty, salty, and reeking of tobacco. Dressed roughly, like a buccaneer of the Southern Sea, he leaned against the wall near the priests' door like he owned the place.
"Caine," he grinned an unshaven, crooked smile around an unlit cigar stub and extended his hand for me to shake. His grip was bone-crushing. I tried not to grimace.
"Aedan."
He looked me over rudely. "You're Deirdre's kid, eh?"
"Her name is Deira," I told him. He laughed once, almost a snort.
"Shows what you know." He released my hand and began walking down the aisle.
"Come on," He ordered me. "Get whatever you need. You'll be gone for a while."
I hurried to catch up with him, tugging on his sleeve as we exited the church.
"Are we going to meet my mother?"
He pulled up so quickly I almost walked into his back. Slowly, Caine turned and pointed a finger at my chest.
"No," he said, and jabbed me with his finger. Ten years later, I can still feel the bruise.
Four days away from the Sundeath Sea, I built up the courage to ask Caine about her.
"She fell into the Abyss, with Brand, at the end."
"I don't understand," I said.
"I know," Caine said, squinting at the distant horizon. We had seen nothing but deep water for three days. The ocean had changed textures a few times, and strange fish swam in it. I only knew that we were nowhere near the world I knew. Caine waved and I followed him into his cabin.
He told me of my family, of Amber and Shadow. He told me of the War with the Kingdom of Chaos. Dinner was served, and afterward Caine brought out his best wine. He talked for several hours, pausing only to drink deeply from his mug.
In the end, he told me how my mother had been held captive by Brand at the edge of the void, a dagger at her neck.
"And then," Caine intoned, "Brand was shot. An arrow in the neck and one in the chest. He fell into the Abyss and dragged Deirdre down with him."
I sat quietly, my head gripped tightly in my hands. My mother was dead. A smile, a lullaby, a half-remembered smell of lavender. Never again. My mouth wouldn't work. It opened and closed.
"I shot him," Caine said.
"What?" I whispered hoarsely. Tears flowed down my cheeks.
"He was distracted by something Corwin did through the Jewel. It was our best chance."
Caine stood and stretched as best he could in the confined space of the cabin. He took a step toward the door. I reached out and grabbed his sleeve to stop him.
"You…killed her," I began.
The side of my head exploded in sudden pain. The floor rushed up to meet me. I saw swirls of red and black, then Caine's face, leaning over me. He had slapped me harder than I had ever been hit in my life.
"We'll not speak of it again," he said quietly. I heard the door open, then footsteps leaving. I lay alone on the floor of the Captain's cabin and cried all night.
During the next ten years, my mother's name was never mentioned.
* * *
Despite Caine's best intentions, Brand had survived. In fact, he had recovered from two fatal wounds. I touched the neck of my mother's body. There was a cut there, undoubtedly from Brand's dagger. It wasn't deep enough to penetrate more than the outer layer of skin. I was irrationally glad to know that, despite the fact that I didn't need to breathe to survive here.
"Dark and cold," was how Brand had described the Abyss. That was true. I had thought at the time that he was holding something back, but now I felt that his description was incredibly accurate. As he had told me, time seemed irrelevant. I estimated I had been here for an hour or two, but it could have been days.
I was confused by the fact that I was in a woman's body. Yes, I had breasts. I checked, but stopped my explorations above the waistline. I remembered my mother's blue eyes, the sweet smell of her breath as she kissed me goodnight, her deep voice. None of those helped me recognize her now. This body was feminine, but it was well-defined. My mother had been a strong woman. I squeezed my arms and couldn't get my hand around my bicep. Yes, I had large muscles.
Besides, who else's body could it be?
So how was it possible that it was me, Aedan, on the inside?
I spoke the word that summoned the will-o-wisp light. I felt it work, but I couldn't see anything. The darkness was absolute. Still, I had sensed the spell working. If that were the case, then my other abilities should work as well.
I flew. My body knew it was moving now, speeding along in a random direction. No wind blew past me, and my view remained unchanged. Eventually, maybe an hour later, I slowed down. That was something to note. My word had never lasted more than a minute or so before. I spoke it again and again I discerned movement. After some more time, I saw something.
I saw a distant and hazy white glow, directly ahead of me. I sped toward it. Slowly it grew larger in my sight, but not relatively clearer.
Something hid within a deep white fog, taller than it was wide. I guessed it was roughly proportional to a human figure, although much, much larger. Even at this vast distance I could sense that it was huge. Above its shoulders projected a pair of something—limbs? I couldn't discern the thing's exact shape through the fog.
On a hunch, I held my hand up as I flew toward it. I could see the outline of my hand, black against the haze. No light reflected off me, though; my body remained dark. That makes perverse sense, I thought. No other ordinary laws of the universe seem to apply here.
I soared closer, losing momentum. The thing was moving, reaching its right arm toward me. As it unfolded, I could see that its other arm held something close against its body. I slowed myself and stopped outside of what I judged to be the thing's immediate reach. It was an androgynous figure of some sort, vaguely human, in shapeless robes. My best guess would have been an angel, with wings. In my mind, I dubbed it the Seraph.
"Hail!" I shouted. The Seraph's right arm held still, outstretched toward me.
"Choose life," a warm voice in my ear said. I couldn't make out enough details to see the thing's face, let alone determine if its mouth had moved…if it had a mouth.
"Who are you?" I asked, more quietly this time. The thing remained motionless for a long moment.
"Salvation." A whisper too close to my ear.
I studied the thing through half-closed eyes. Now I noticed that I could feel heat radiating toward me. The white light twisted and turned in the fog, giving me a glimpse of other colors in the mist. I licked my lips and tasted salt. I could feel sweat trickling down my mother's back.
The Seraph glittered inside the haze, looming. In my mind I quickly went over what I knew of the Abyss. In six months in Amber I had asked everyone what they knew about it. I had memorized passages in books pertaining to the Courts' great empty chasm. Nothing I had read or heard had mentioned a primeval force lurking there.
Somehow, it was larger. Or was I closer to it? The light glinted off small pieces on its chest—mail, like my own? Or scales?
This thing sucked my eyes in, refusing to let me blink. My hands gripped my elbows to try and stop their shaking.
"Choose," it breathed. "You must be the Silver."
Its arm was around me now, encircling me. I saw a wild mane of white hair flowing down. The object in its left hand drew my gaze. It was a weapon of some sort. I reached out and touched it. My hand curled around something flat, with spiral curved ridges. It burned with cold fire and I jerked my hand away.
"A choice of one is not a choice!" I shouted, tasting the fear.
"With me," it sighed, its voice filling my entire body. "Or without me."
Suddenly it was gone. I was alone in the cold void.
"With!" I yelled. Instantly the Seraph was there. One arm still curled around me, the other was moving. The thing in its left hand lowered and pointed at me, quick as thought. I felt a thousand frozen needles pierce my sternum, rip through my heart and lungs and slit open my back.
Everything changed.
* * *
I perched in the crook of my favorite tree, my flute in my hands. One of my feet was curled around the branch, but it wasn't enough. I shuddered in surprise, disoriented. My balance point shifted and I started to fall.
My hands reached behind me to try to grab hold of something. My flute flew up out of my hands, and I tumbled down, down, down. Through a half-dozen branches my body proved to me that gravity had returned. I hit the ground with a loud thump and frowned. Something knocked me on the head and bounced beside me: my flute.
Ground. Dust, pale in the half-dark of night. It smelled familiar. I turned slowly over and stared up. The overcast, stratified night sky was framed by skeletal, hollow boughs. A breeze ruffled them and low, ghostly moans filled my ears.
I was in the Bone Orchard, on Gealorea.
I extended my arms above me and looked at them. I was wearing my jacket, and my hands were poking out of the sleeves. I felt my body—Aedan's body, not Deirdre's.
I breathed a great big sigh of relief. Yes, I was breathing again. I was a bit bruised from the fall. My ass hurt from the landing. My skull hurt from where my flute had hit me. And the palm of my left hand stung. It felt like it had fallen asleep and was only now regaining circulation, but much worse. In the darkness, I couldn't see it very well. I summoned my will-o-wisp. It appeared, whiter than before but still silver. I had three new scars on my hand. They ran parallel to each other, diagonally across my palm and fingers.
Remembering, I reached under my shirt and rubbed my chest. There was a sliver of scar tissue there too. At that moment I recalled something whispered in my ear, in-between the Abyss and this place. The Seraph had said "My mark will protect you." I touched the scar again, lightly. It didn't hurt, but my fingertip tingled. I stood for a moment and got dizzy. I picked up my flute and trudged to a fallen log to sit down.
My head was spinning, but it was my head, dammit. What had just happened? Was it a cruel joke of the gods? I could just imagine Ogmal, laughing in his beard. Had I passed a test? I didn't know. Life is a long series of unanswered questions, Caine said. Well, add one to my list.
I relaxed and closed my eyes. The distant crash of the surf made me smile. I breathed in the faint, sour scent of this place. Once, when I had snuck back home after a night spent here, Samineh had come into my chambers to wake me. She had laughed at my pretended sleep and tousled my hair. She knew the aroma of my favorite haunt.
A few minutes breathing cleared my head. I checked to make sure I had my various items: torc, bracelet, ring. My pockets were mostly empty, so I had lost my silver pipe. It had been a gift from Caine, one of the few things he ever gave me that I actually liked. I would miss it. I patted my jacket and felt a expected case of trump cards. I thought about taking them out and calling someone in Amber, but decided against it. I hadn't been back to Gealorea in six months and I wanted to look around.
I took off my boots and carried them. My toes squished in the wet sand at the water's edge as I watched the waves fold in. My wisp had dwindled and vanished, but there was still enough light in the cloudy sky to see the silhouette of Silvervein Keep. Tall and proud, it roosted on the cliffs overlooking the ocean like a mother raven guarding her nest.
Well, mother of mine, I had come home.
* * *
Samineh cried at first, but laughed when she got close enough to smell me. I hugged her tightly and rubbed my nose in her thick red hair. Two hours had barely been enough time to wake the staff and drink a toast to old times and missing friends. I quickly ran upstairs and made sure the tower tops were just as I remembered. Then it happened, as I knew it would.
It was Gabriel, telling me I was needed in Amber. I said goodbye to everyone and took his outstretched hand.
"You won't believe what has happened," Gabriel said. We were standing in an alcove in the Royal wing of the palace. Brand's son sat down on the window bench and indicated that I should do the same.
"After what I've just been through, I just might." I sat down.
"Aedan," Gabriel began, then hesitated. I looked at him closely. He was really fumbling for words.
"What is it?"
"Deirdre is alive."
"What?" I leaped up. "You've seen her? Where is she?"
"In her rooms," he replied.
I ran down the hall, stopped abruptly, then turned around and ran the other way toward my mother's rooms.
Giselle must have heard me coming, for as I approached the door she opened it and stepped outside. She held up a hand, telling me to calm down.
"She's asleep, Aedan."
"I'll be okay," I said ridiculously. I bounced on my toes, trying to peer through the closed door.
"Aedan." Giselle grabbed my wrists. I bounced once and she pulled me still. "Calm down. She was awake earlier, but she needs her rest."
I tried. I settled down enough for her to let me in.
My mother was wrapped in a heavy blanket, curled in front of the fireplace. A healthy fire was blazing. Flora was sitting on the floor taking Deirdre's pulse.
It was hot in the room. I took off my jacket and turned to throw it somewhere. That's when I noticed that Giselle was only wearing a nightshift of some sort. Had she been wearing only that when she answered the door? I couldn't recall. I gave her my jacket.
I walked quickly over to them. A pile of black armor rested nearby.
"She's alive, Aedan," Flora said. A tear glinted in her sightless eye. Aunt, you have never looked more beautiful, I thought.
I knelt down and looked closely at Deirdre's face. It was my mother, as I had never really seen her before. Three weeks ago I had met her spirit in Tir na-Nog'th. I had stared at the statue of her. None of those compared to flesh and blood.
I sat down next to her, in front of the fire. Flora helped me situate myself so Deirdre rested slept in my arms. Her skin was cold. I held my mother and sang her lullabies I remembered from my childhood.
Time passed. I vaguely remember Gabriel asking me something, but I couldn't respond. He and Giselle must have left at some point. Flora stoked the fire and heated the bed-warmer. After a while, she compelled me to carry Deirdre to the bed.
Her skin was slightly warmer now. I unbraided her hair and spread it out across the pillow. Flora guided me into a chair she had positioned next to the bed. She arranged the covers around Deirdre and made ready to leave.
"Oh, Flora." My mother mumbled. I couldn't believe it. She really was alive.
"Mother?" I whispered.
"Mmm," Deirdre's eyes were still closed. She brought a hand up and rubbed her face. "I feel like I just got the most horrible trump call," she murmured. I looked at Flora expectantly.
"Sister," Flora said softly. "There's someone here to see you."
Deirdre opened her eyes, the deep blue lakes of my earliest memories. She focused on me, confused.
"I'm your son," I said.
"Aedan?" She held a hand out to me. I took it, gripped it tightly. "I'm so sorry."
We cried then, looking at each other without saying anything. I wiped the tears away and tried to speak. I failed.
"Flora said I went…'through' you…?"
"I don't know," I told her.
Deirdre glanced at my hand, held tightly in hers. We both realized that our hands were still very cold.
Flora began moving around, making noise in the room behind me.
"Do you remember talking to me, in Tir na-Nog'th?"
"Almost," she looked away. "Like it was a dream."
"I saw you, in the City in the Sky." I stopped, unsure of what to say. I had so much to tell her. I stared into her eyes and saw her clench her jaw. She was shivering. "We'll talk more later."
"You're cold too." She said.
At this point, Flora interrupted. She coerced Deirdre out of bed and toward a hot bath in the bathroom. With her arms around our shoulders, my mother walked into the bathroom. I helped her get into the bath.
The hot water felt wonderful. Deirdre sank into it up to her chin. The dark crescent moon tattoo on her belly rippled in my memory. Flora retreated quietly into the bedroom. I held my mother's hand under the water. She gripped it tightly and I made a weak sound of protest. It was my left hand.
She opened my hand and regarded it in the lamplight. The three parallel lines were easily seen.
"You were in the Abyss?" she said.
"Yes," I told her. "I think I was you, for a while."
She gave me a strange look I couldn't interpret. I thought that she would have wondered what I meant by that, but she didn't ask.
"How did you escape?"
"I saw an angel," I started, then stopped. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
Deirdre closed her eyes.
"I know that…angel." She called it by that term reluctantly. We sat in silence for a few minutes before my mother looked down at herself and chuckled.
"I'm naked."
"Well," I wavered. "Yes, but…I, uh…."
"I know." She smiled sadly at me.
"How…?"
Her blue eyes pierced mine for a long, slow heartbeat. She shrugged.
"I'm sorry," she cradled my face with her hand. "If there had been any other way…."
"Mother, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're here now. I would have willingly traded places with you, had I known what was required." She caressed my chin with her thumb, wiped away new tears.
"Violet Eyes," she whispered my childhood nickname. "Thank you," she said, and released me. "So this," she gestured at her naked body, "isn't anything you haven't seen before?"
"Actually," I smiled. "It was rather dark."
"Yeah," she laughed and raised her eyebrows. "I remember."
I fetched her a towel, then assisted her back to bed. She climbed in. I kissed her on the cheek. She was asleep almost instantly.
I curled up with some blankets at the foot of her bed, too exhausted to care that I was still freezing. I stared at the fire for as long as I could.
My mother had returned from beyond death's gate. Nothing else mattered.
* * *
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