The Land of Broken Roads

Dirt woke with a pervading sense of being hunted and only slowly came into wakefulness. For a time, he lay perfectly still, sure that something in the room would hear him and pounce if he wasn’t careful. When he finally came to, the fog was already brightening with the day, but he almost rolled over and went back to sleep in protest.

Until he remembered the dream about the wolf. It was the worst of a night full of nightmares and he could recall every detail as if he’d been awake for it.

He quickly realized what it was. The Devourer. It had to have been the Devourer, and now Mother was going to kill him. She’d do it instantly, from wherever she was, the moment she realized. Dirt wouldn’t even see it coming. He’d just be alive one moment and dead the next.

You’d think I’d be used to this, he thought to himself, putting on a half-smile in the empty room with no mirth behind it. It was a feeble attempt to smooth over his panic. I’m always about to die.

Dirt rolled out of bed and stood, but too much fear made it feel like he was swimming. Lingering terror from the nightmares and fresh dread of Mother. He straightened out his shirt and fidgeted with a smooth rock from his pocket for a moment, hoping he wasn’t going to throw up from worry. He felt sick and it wasn’t going to go away. He was going to be like this all morning, maybe all day, if he lived that long. The dryads would notice right away and ask him, and he wouldn’t be able to say anything because Mother would hear it.

He’d probably live until he returned to Socks and the pup saw it in his mind. A few days, maybe? Could he escape? Maybe he could make himself forget, permanently. And then when it happened again, it’d be right back to this. Maybe he’d already tried that once, and this was the result.

No, he thought with a coldly rational kind of despair, it wasn’t worth it. There was no escape from Mother. Never. Best to get it over with now, before the trees learned what had killed him. They would remember him, but they wouldn’t be very sad about it. They weren’t capable.

And if there was one thing he trusted, it was that Mother and Father would do the best for their cubs. They were never wrong, so maybe it was for the best. And maybe he deserved it for breaking the world and all those twisted, suffering gods could finally rest. He thought those things to try and gather courage, but couldn’t completely make himself believe them. He wanted to live.

“Mother of Wolves,” he whispered, voice scratchy and quavering, before he’d even fully committed himself in his heart. “Can you hear me? I…”

The words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t speak. What kind of fool asks to be killed? What was he thinking?

WHAT DO YOU WANT, HUMAN? ANSWER QUICKLY.

Her voice filled his head, feeling like it was squeezing his brain. This was how she’d kill him. She’d squeeze it out his ears.

“I…” he started, but still couldn’t speak. He cleared his throat, but that just made it dry and he coughed. Then he had no voice at all, so he whispered, “I dreamed of the Devourer. I know what he is now. He’s Father’s father. Please don’t kill me.”

I SAID I WOULD KILL YOU WHEN YOU LEARNED WHY I EAT MY CUBS. HAVE YOU LEARNED?

“No,” he said, and remembered. That’s what she’d said. Not just what the Devourer was—why. Why, was the important thing. He didn’t know why. Relief pushed out the dread in the form of cold sweat.

THEN WHY DO YOU PESTER ME?

“I know I can’t escape you. You’re keeping an eye on me even though Socks isn’t around, or you wouldn’t have answered,” he said, the words coming easier now that he was still alive. Gods in glory, he was still alive. “The trees gave a me clue that it was related to the Devourer and they wouldn’t tell me what he was, so I thought if I ever found out—"

THE DEVOURER IS MY MATE’S SIRE. HE IS LONG DEAD, BUT NOT GONE. HE HUNTS HIS DESCENDENTS. I EAT MY CUBS BEFORE HE GETS THEM. THE ADULTS ARE TOO STRONG FOR HIM.

Dirt nodded. That was reasonable. Now that Mother said it, several things fell quickly into place, all things he would have realized before mid-morning. That was why they were so concerned about being as strong as possible. If they weren’t, they’d be prey. They were prey anyway, actually, until they grew up.

HE EATS THEM TO TRY TO RETURN TO LIFE. HE MUST BE PREVENTED. YOU WOULD HAVE FIGURED THIS OUT.

The fear that had slipped away when Mother didn’t annihilate him where he stood started coming back. Why was she explaining? Was she going to—

THERE IS ONE MISSING ELEMENT, AND THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO KNOW. PERHAPS SOMEDAY, IF YOU EARN MY TRUST BY YOUR MERIT, YOU MAY LEARN. BUT IF YOU DO, YOU WILL NOT VIEW SOCKS THE SAME WAY. YOUR RELATIONSHIP MAY CHANGE FOR THE WORSE, AND I MIGHT CHANGE MY MIND AND KILL YOU ANYWAY. NOW GO THINK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE.

Dirt didn’t bother to thank her since she didn’t want his gratitude. Just his compliance, which he was eager to offer. He raced out of his room, down the hall, and into the atrium, where he hunched over and tried not to throw up. He was still alive! Dirt had faced death too many times before, but never like this. He’d been afraid he’d starve, or bleed out, or suffocate, or get eaten. But never just that he would die. Never death itself, and it wasn’t the same. He leaned against the wall to keep his balance until it returned, then sat on the edge of the fountain for a moment to rest and recover.

It passed soon enough, as it always did. He was safe and alive, and before long his courage returned.

Actually, Mother hadn’t said, but was he in danger from the Devourer now? Or—and this seemed more likely—was Socks in greater danger of being found now that the Devourer knew to watch Dirt as well?

There were signs when the Devourer was getting close, like unnatural storms. He and Socks would be fine. Dirt would just make sure Socks didn’t waste time before running away. So why would ‘devouring’ the pups help bring a dead wolf back to life? What did they have that—

Dirt shook his head and forced himself to stop following that line of reasoning. Best not to figure it out. He knew what was going on now, and that would have to be enough.

He knew of a task that would distract him. He stopped back in his room and grabbed the magical primer, then turned around and headed for the hot bath.

The bath water was still and dark, the air heavy and colder than elsewhere in the villa. That seemed inappropriate for a room like this one, where people were supposed to gather and relax. Maybe someday he could bring Ignasi and Hèctor and the Duke, along with Màxim and any other people who were curious. The bath would probably seat twenty, if not more. And now that he thought about it, did men and women bathe together? He couldn’t picture it. At least not with a crowd. Maybe just a few. Perhaps only families did that.

Dirt snapped his fingers to summon a light and sent it down into the water so he could see. Then he reached down with his mind and pulled out a chunk of roof tile, which he set aside. Then a few more, one by one, feeling the curious tug of water resistance as he drew them out. Then the stray pieces of sharp concrete that used to be wall, and anything else big enough to see and grab.

Once that was done, he read through the primer until he found the water purification spell. Looking over it, it turned out he didn’t need the primer anymore, since he remembered all the parts. The tricky one would be ‘exclude’, which had to be joined to several other things to push everything that wasn’t water, out of the water. Still, nothing serious.

What he wanted to try was doing the whole spell without any of the drawings, or the chalk and wand and candles or gem, and still direct it at the correct water. Those things were just to help the wizard’s mind, more than having any real effect. Although Avitus might not have known that. Or anyone else. They thought putting pure chalk in the middle of the ‘exclude’ sigil told the spell to act on elemental earth. At least that’s what the primer said. Dirt knew better.

He focused and the whole spell came to his mind, long-forgotten training making itself useful again, coupled with recent practice. He pressed it onto his mana vessel, manifesting it into the world of magic. Once everything was ready, he squatted down and dipped his finger into the water, in place of the wand he was supposed to use. He filled the spell with mana and directed the effect into the bath.

The spell worked perfectly, which pleased him. It hadn’t been hard at all! Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised after doing the spell that made all the grain grow.

The grime and dirt and rotting fern leaves and everything else floated to the top and gathered into a dark, repulsive, brownish-gray foam. Larger bits, like pebbles and sand, leaped out of the water like it was spitting them. If they landed back in the bath, they bounced along the surface until they stuck to the foam. Dirt kept mana channeling through it until no more bubbles rose from the bottom and the water quit reacting.

He scooped the filth from the top of the water with his mind and tossed it out through the gaps in the roof. His little light swimming through the water showed it to be clean and pure. Even the grime stuck to the bottom surface was gone now, leaving it bright as fresh marble.

Dirt rolled the scroll up, quite pleased with himself. Then an idea struck him and he left the villa at a run. He went a few houses up the street and entered the empty gateway, and sure enough, a dingy statue stood in the garden. It depicted a hunter with a drawn bow, muscles in his back and legs as taut as the long-vanished string. Even the bow was gone, probably rusted into nothing, but the marble was in good condition.

He made a minor adjustment to the water purification spell, replacing the sigil for ‘water’ with ‘stone’. From there, he improvised adding modifications he hoped would clear the surface, not the interior. Naturally, it wouldn’t do to try this on his statues first. It might make them explode, for all he knew.

The spell worked exactly like he imagined it, although the mana had trouble flowing properly at first until he made some adjustments. But a single tap was all it took to get every last bit of dirt to flake off and fall to the ground. Very little mana, in fact. The statue’s surface was flawless now, clear and bright as the day it was carved. All he needed was someone to paint it, and—

Dirt paused and stepped back. They used to paint these, didn’t they? He had to pick through Prisca’s memories, but it didn’t take long to find the answer. They were indeed painted. Even the carvings on buildings. Everything was painted, colorful and vibrant.

Peering around with fresh eyes, the remains of the city looked even more barren than before. The stately buildings and fine stonework, straight roads and charming symmetry, all the pale gray cement and faded frescoes, it all just looked like bones now. A grave of a place, with all the flesh rotted away, like a tomb.

Well, that’s what it was. Maybe someday people would live here again and he could get them to start painting things. But for now, Dirt rather liked the unobtrusiveness of the bone-white buildings everywhere. Color would be out of place here. And it wouldn’t look right without any sunlight anyway.

Dirt felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped about ten feet in the air, since he still had leftover mana in him. He was laughing before he landed, though, and so was Callius, as naturally as ever.

“Are you alright, friend Dirt? Not nervous about anything?” asked the dryad.

“No, I’m fine. Can I have some sap? And then, do you have any tips on what I should say to the elemental? What do you and she talk about?” said Dirt, checking behind him for Dawn sneaking up to get him again, since it was something she’d do.

Callius held his hand out and a healthy glob of sap appeared, which Dirt took and ate a bit more quickly than was probably good for him, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to eat. “Tell me, friend Dirt, did you have any strange dreams last night?”

Dirt stopped chewing, then chewed faster and swallowed so he could speak. “Oh, you know about that?”

“Tell me what you dreamed of,” said Callius, his voice a bit more urgent than usual, despite his impish, easy demeanor.

“I was visited by the Devourer, so I know what he is now. He said he had my scent. I already spoke to Mother about it, and she said she wasn’t going to kill me because that wasn’t the secret.”

Callius scowled, perhaps the first time Dirt had ever seen him make that face. Or any of them, for that matter. He looked upset.

“Why do you ask?” said Dirt.

“Because we normally keep things like him out, but in our haste to regulate the environment, our defenses were lax. We didn’t realize until we sensed your distress in the dream,” said Callius.

“Well, I’m fine now, so thanks for rescuing me once you realized. It was not a pleasant dream to have,” said Dirt. Then he took another big bite of sap. Was he hungry, or something else? The latter. It was too early to be very hungry. It was delicious, though.

“Did the Mother of Wolves say anything else to you?”

“She said that the Devourer wants to eat the pups so he can come back to life, but there’s a secret about that, and that’s what I can’t ever find out. So if you know, don’t tell me,” said Dirt.

“We know,” said Callius. “And we will not tell you. We judge that the Mother of Wolves was correct, and it is a secret best left kept for now.”

“Well, I’m doing my best not to think about it. Other than, I hope someday I can get rid of the Devourer somehow, like I chased off those ghosts in Llovella. So how’s the weather fixing going? Do you have it back under control? Everything seems normal now,” said Dirt.

“We’re getting close. It would not do to allow a disruption so close to winter. A freeze would be destructive here. But do not fret over that, little Dirt. There is nothing you can do to help.”

“What do you do in the winter, anyway? Do you use magic to generate heat to stay warm?”

“I think that would be a more complicated answer than you are expecting,” said Callius. “We can spend all morning on it if you wish.”

Dirt did not wish. “Where is everyone else, by the way? Still working?”

“Still working.”

“Okay. Can you take me back up to talk to the elemental again?”

“Yes. We have spoken with her in the meantime, and she regrets the distress she caused you. Sort of. Her relation to emotion is different from ours, and yours. But she will not lift you up again unless you ask very clearly,” said Callius. “We told her you will do more listening than speaking, so pay attention.”

He reached forward to take Dirt’s hand and pull him with root travel, but Dirt caught his wrist first. “One quick question. Is she just like you, happy all the time?”

Callius tilted his head, sort of like Socks did when he was curious about something. “Not exactly. We do not understand loss or pain, since we have no natural faculty to experience those things. But she understands them and is not affected. She remembers everything she touches. Any time a word is spoken in her wind, any time her breeze passes over a hunter and his prey, everything. She knows and understands it all. She can tell you nearly anything you wish to learn, if you know how to ask.”

The dryad stretched out his arms and let his fingers drift over Dirt’s face, and the nearby ferns, and even the statue. He moved gracefully, like a dance, which carried him all around the garden. “She is like the Father of Wolves—older than this world. Over countless years, she has seen all there is to see, but no matter what, she must keep moving. The wind must always blow. She cannot be slowed by grief or pleasure. That’s what she is. She can never stop.”

“So,” said Callius, slowing to stillness, “she just doesn’t let it affect her when something happens, good or bad. Most of her mind isn’t even here. The physical is more like a dream to her than anything. She knows it all, sees it all, remembers everything. But her true self is not in the physical. The elementals live in the world of magic.”

Then Callius did an impressive backward cartwheel, and Dirt suspected he wasn’t really trying to demonstrate, just that he liked to move. Which he did.

“I supposed I should tell you one last thing. If you speak aloud, she will hear your words, and know them, but she will never think about them. You must speak to her in her world, in terms of the process and the power. That she will understand. Now, are you ready?” said Callius, his face lighting up like Màxim’s did when he proposed a new game. Exactly like it, in fact.

Dirt grinned. “Let’s go.”

Root travel carried them to the top of a tree, but Dirt wasn’t quite sure which one until he looked at her mind. Starwatcher. She was only barely aware of him, focused instead on the great work of the forest. It made sense to climb her, though, since she was the first tree he’d met the elementals in. They must be friends.

The great elemental was there waiting, as much as she was anywhere, or waiting. But no wind reached the leaves—it was all higher, blowing overhead. Dirt couldn’t even hear it, and if not for his mind-sight he might not know she was here at all.

A new branch grew where Dirt was perched, just wide enough for him to stand on. He ducked down to keep his balance until it stopped moving, a dozen paces above the treetops. It felt precarious, but Callius was watching intently and would probably catch him if he fell.

Dirt carefully got back up and only once he was fully standing did he feel the breeze. The trees had lifted him just high enough to feel it gently in his hair. He felt nothing on his bare feet, and the hem of his pants didn’t move.

He sent her a warm emotion of greeting, directly to her mind, accompanied by her perception of his face in her air. Her attention increased and Dirt got the impression that the entire sky had perked up in curiosity, which made him grin.

Dirt closed his eyes and looked with his mind-sight and mana body. He manifested the sigil for ‘beginning a new process’, but left it open and unpowered.

The elemental grabbed hold of it immediately and drew more in countless, expanding patterns. Sigils rotated around each other and tiny flares of mana caused brief sensations that tickled his awareness. He saw much that he recognized, although far from all. But here was ‘wind’ and there was ‘increase’ and…

Oh, she was talking about carrying him away! Now that he knew what she meant, it was easier to follow. Her story was a recitation of a continual process, describing how it happened more than why. This section described how much wind power it took to lift him, with a portion dedicated to the wind sliding off his skinny body and smooth skin, making it harder. Then over here, she was telling him what direction they’d gone, and he learned several new sigils related to navigation.

With his mind sight, he could sense some of her emotion, which turned out to be more like nostalgia than novelty, which surprised him. Was he not the first human she’d talked to? There was a sense of familiarity that had no other explanation.

Her story continued, and he saw how she recognized that he was freezing and the cold was hurting his skin. From that, he learned four new sigils related to temperature and a new configuration of sigils that would indicate skin, by how it naturally functioned.

By the time she was done, Dirt was sure he’d missed more than he’d learned, but even so, he had learned quite a bit. He sent her a poof of gratitude, since he had no other way to say thank you. She drew a new sigil for him, two of them. ‘Gainful’ and ‘closure at the end of an increase’. He repeated them back to her. Now that, at least, was simple. Magical thank you.

Other elementals were gathering, small gusts and zephyrs that reminded Dirt of puppies racing around their mother. Mostly they played with each other, but always returned their attention to her and what she was doing.

The great elemental drew ‘beginning a new process’ for him, and he hesitated while trying to figure out what to do with it. What should he say? He pictured the towers of the palace in Ogena, tall and thin as they reached up into the sky. Then he tried to draw them for her, carefully describing them with sigils in terms of how the air would flow around them.

He was just starting to feel like he’d gotten the hang of it when she picked up on what he was doing and started filling in the details with dazzling accuracy and complexity. She drew much of the city, including the walls, in a greater array of sigils and shapes than his poor little mind could take in. But if he looked carefully, he could see the people moving along the streets by the disturbance they made in the wind. Not well enough to tell them apart, but it was captivating nonetheless.

Dirt tried something else and began describing Socks, showing his shape and his shaggy fur. Even his color, since Dirt knew sigils that could get pretty close. Once again, she understood and filled in the rest, and Dirt recognized his big friend perfectly. He knew every detail already, from the shape of his nose to the length of his snout, to the size of the scratches his claws left when he ran. Everything. And so did she.

She left the array open, waiting for him to act on it somehow and explain what he wanted. Dirt puzzled over it for a moment and then grinned mischievously. He drew the sigils for motion and air and said, “Hi Socks! You’re not imagining this. See you soon!”

It took her quite a bit of analysis, which he could only weakly help with, to understand what he meant. And once she did, she answered with only a few simple sigils, ‘delay’ and ‘distant’ and ‘pass between separate segments’. Her mind grew distant, the vast light of it that stretched from horizon to horizon fading.

The air went still as she and all the little elementals withdrew. Dirt waited for a bit, wondering if it was over. He counted to a hundred before he started looking around and thinking about how he was going to get down. Should he yell to Callius, or just jump down there to be caught?

But then she came rushing back, a strong gust that almost tipped him over. He drew the opening sigil again and awaited her explanation, which came quickly. Then Dirt laughed, loud and hard. He’d startled Socks so bad the pup had jumped in the air and yelped. That was it, just the pup leaping up into the breeze and the pathetic sound he made. Serves him right, after doing that to Dirt so many times!

Dirt thanked her and ended the conversation. He’d want to do this more and learn all he could and become her friend, but for now, he had to tell someone about the prank he’d just pulled. That couldn’t wait.