The Land of Broken Roads

They were five hundred paces into the long walk back before Biandina broke the silence. She and Antelmu had been straining their eyes and ears in dread of more fairy tricks, and Dirt had been watching so carefully for minds that he kept stumbling on the rocky ground.

“Let’s go faster. Maybe we can get back while they’re leaving us alone,” she said.

“They’re not close. I’m watching,” said Dirt.

“How do you know?” said Biandina.

“I just do,” said Dirt. He was sorely tempted right then to explain that he could see minds, but hesitated. It wasn’t the time. The children were afraid, and they might transfer that fear on to him, and stop being his friends. “But I still think hurrying is a good idea.”

“All right. Let’s pick it up,” she said, and started walking as fast as she could. It turned out a human could walk pretty fast, if she really tried. Long quick paces and she was moving almost at a run.

Dirt’s legs were too short to do anything but jog at that pace, so he did. Antelmu struggled to walk that fast for a bit, but couldn’t either. He broke into a jog and ran ahead, and Dirt followed. That left Biandina running to keep up, and the last two thousand paces were crossed before the first star appeared.

The tower stood empty and silent, retreating into twilight shadows. It looked colder inside than out, and the darkness the tower’s doorway held was nothing the two children wanted to step into. “Can you make a light?” Antelmu asked.

“Sure. Let me do the big ones first, and then I can make some little ones where we need them,” said Dirt. He stepped up to the enchantment on the closest wall and filled it with mana. A bright light appeared overhead and made the ground shine fifty paces out.

He circled the tower to fill the other three, and in they went. With the lights shining in from outside, the tower did feel safer. The light would keep the shadows at bay. Dirt created a small light to follow them and asked, “Do we need to do anything with the meat or hide from that deer?”

“It’s getting late. Maybe too late. We should have started the meat cooking hours ago, and if we don’t flesh that hide it’s going to rot,” said Biandina.

“Nothing says we have to go to bed already,” said Antelmu. “It’s too early anyway. Let’s just do it now.”

“Fine with me. Dirt, can you give him your knife, and he’ll show you how to flesh a hide?” said Biandina. “I’m going to run up and get more coal. I only brought down one piece.”

“You can just bring down the whole bag,” said Antelmu.

“That’s the plan,” she replied.

“Okay. Hurry back,” said Antelmu.

“I’ll be fine. There’s nothing in here with us, and I can see just fine with those lights outside,” she said, forcing herself to sound casual. She almost succeeded.

An understanding passed between the siblings when their eyes met. They both nodded, and she stepped through the doorway. The moment she was out of sight, they heard her take a deep breath and start sprinting with all her might. Antelmu gave Dirt a little grin, but it was a scared one.

Dirt kept an eye on her mind so he’d know right away if she ran into trouble. She seemed fine so far. Just scared. It was dark up there and not as much light got in as she was hoping.

“So how do you flesh a hide?” asked Dirt.

“Fleshing the hide means you get all the flesh off and just leave the hide. We’re going to try turning into leather. Might as well, right? Can I have your knife?”

Dirt handed it over and squatted down to watch. They spread the deer skin out tight, fur side down, and then Antelmu had Dirt move around to kneel on one end and help keep it in place.

Antelmu looked around conspiratorially to make sure Biandina was truly gone, then whispered, “Can you really tell if they’re close?”

Dirt nodded the affirmative and whispered, “They’re not close at all right now.”

Antelmu glanced out the window and watched until he was satisfied nothing was moving out there. Finally he said, “It’s easier if you start at the head. We’re gonna cut the tail off later, but it’s good now, because it shows us which end that is.” Antelmu started scraping, lightly at first and then a bit harder. “I keep forgetting how sharp this blade is. I almost don’t need the stand to put it on. Usually you really have to push, but…”

Sure enough, with each stroke of the blade, flesh was removed to expose the pale, clean surface of the hide itself. Antelmu leaned in closer and gave it his full concentration. “I have to be really careful. This is almost too sharp.”

“Where do your people get metal, if you don’t have much wood?”

“Iron and copper are easy to find. Iron is harder to work with, though. Can you be quiet while I work on this?” said Antelmu.

Dirt leaned back slightly to give the older boy a few more inches of clearance and watched intently. It seemed like a simple process, but there was no mistaking Antelmu’s skill. He worked with a deft hand, each movement graceful and deliberate.

“I’m used to needing more pressure,” said Antelmu after working in silence for a bit. He sat up and pointed at what he was doing. “If you don’t push hard enough, it won’t scrape everything that needs to come off. But if you push too hard, you’ll cut into the hide, and that can turn into a big hole later. If you’re just making strapping, that’s fine, but usually strapping happens because you messed up, not because you did it on purpose.”

Biandina thundered down the stairs and the hall, then slowed to a stop and walked normally through the doorway. She held her breath to keep from panting, but her face was flushed and it was obvious. “You boys almost done?” she said, almost hiding how out-of-breath she was.

“Getting close. It’s hard, though, so can you let me concentrate?”

Biandina nodded and leaned against the wall nonchalantly, as if she wasn’t doing it to rest after a terrifying dash through a scary, empty building. Antelmu kept working and it only took a moment longer before he sat back and traced his fingers across the clean hide. “Do you see anywhere I missed?” he said.

“Here on the legs, it’s lots thicker down by the feet,” said Dirt.

“That’s fine. I’m gonna cut the ends off anyway. I only want the good hide. Here, see this? All these dangly bits around the edges? Watch, you do it like this.” Antelmu slid the knife around the edge of the hide and trimmed it into a nice, clean curve. He trimmed the legs up a bit, then tossed aside everything he’d shaved. “Sometimes if you leave those dangly parts there, they either look bad, or they can get caught and snag and weaken the leather before it’s done. Some people trim it a little less than this, but I like it to look smooth on the edge.”

Biandina pulled herself away from the wall and stepped over. “Nice work. Boys, listen for a moment. The reason Socks’s family said to stay in this tower is because the fairies can’t get in. They might try to lead us away, but if we stay here, there’s nothing they can do. Socks will come back before long, and all we have to do is hold out until then. So I need you to…” She trailed off, swallowing a comment she’d been planning on and changed her mind about. Instead she finished with, “I think we’ll have to cook the meat instead of drying it. We’re missing most of what we need.”

“Yeah, I thought about that,” said Antelmu. He gave a hesitant look out the window. The darkness was growing deep out there. “Do we need to get some stones to make a fire ring?”

“I can take care of that. How many do you want?” said Dirt.

Biandina and Antelmu looked at each other. “We can go together,” said Biandina.

“No, silly, I can just pick them up from here,” said Dirt. He stood and went to the window and leaned out to get a good view. He found several decent stones nearby and lifted them one-by-one with his mind and set them in the middle of the room.

Once there were enough to make a ring, Biandina laid four coal cylinders inside and packed them with small branches and fluff. Then she looked expectantly at Dirt and said, “Would you mind?”

Dirt snapped his fingers to summon a light, then turned it into a flaming ember and drifted it down to start the fire. Her packing material had been too thin, requiring him to keep the ember there for several minutes until the coals got hot, but once they did, the fire stayed hot.

The room got smoky, but if they sat on the floor, it wasn’t so bad. The top of the window was only a foot below the ceiling, and that let most of the smoke out. The set strips of meat along the stones as close to the embers as they could get them and sat to watch them cook.

Once the smell of roasting meat filled the room, Dirt found himself phenomenally hungry, as did the others. Antelmu pulled his strip off and flipped it over before the outside had gone past pale gray and Biandina gave him a disapproving look, but said nothing. After about a count of fifteen, she did the same with hers, and Dirt’s.

Shortly after that, Antelmu moved to pull his off and eat it mostly-raw, but Biandina said, “Wait until they’re all done.”

“Why? You can eat yours when you want. I’m gonna eat mine when I want,” said the boy.

“Just do,” she said.

Antelmu sighed loudly, but left it on the fire.

Not much later, Biandina was satisfied and pulled a small leather pouch from inside the fur hem of her shirt. “I have a little salt I’ve been saving. I think tonight’s a good night for it, don’t you?”

That brightened the boy’s face considerably and he held his strip of meat by the ends and lifted it over toward Biandina. She applied a reasonable sprinkle of salt along its length and then did the same for Dirt’s and her own. Antelmu rubbed the salt into the meat and then licked his finger, and Dirt did the same.

The strip of deer was delicious—much better than raw, even ignoring how everything tasted better when he was hungry. Salt and cooking were two things where humans had the advantage over wolves. They threw on more strips to cook and by the end, Antelmu had eaten five, and Dirt and Biandina each three.

After that, Dirt brought in scoops of snow with his mind and they packed the meat, the fat, and the brain to preserve everything. They rolled up the hide, tossed the rest of the deer skeleton out the window, and then that was it. There was nothing left to do.

Biandina and Antelmu glanced out the window for the nine hundredth time, and as always, saw only the portion of the landscape illuminated by the enchantment’s light. “I’m scared to sleep tonight. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have nightmares,” admitted Antelmu, smiling, as if admitting something humorous.

It wasn’t just him, either. Dirt peeked at Biandina’s mind and found that she was even more scared than her brother, because she was worried about him as well as herself.

A mind came into view, faint and distant. Dreamlike, but moving with steady purpose. Whatever counted for vision beheld the tower and the lights, but the architecture and colors shifted. It felt eager. No malice, just eagerness. It knew Dirt was there. It knew Dirt was watching. There was a brief flash of glee, and then its mind was wiped clean, becoming pure light. It was hiding its thoughts.

This was not something the other humans could handle. It was Dirt’s turn to be in charge for a while. He said, “All of us are pretty tired. I bet we fall asleep before we realize it.”

“I hope so, but I doubt it,” said Antelmu.

Dirt gave them a mental push and put them sleep, then caught them as they slumped to the ground. He filled his body with mana and laid Biandina on her back, then put Antelmu on his back on top of her. Then he lifted them both, with moderate difficulty. Mana might make him strong, but it didn’t eliminate leverage, and they were large and awkward things to be carrying around.

Even so, he managed, trudging up the stairs one by one, watching that blank mind to see if it was growing and getting closer. It didn’t seem to be. Dirt suspected it was waiting outside the light and watching for an opportunity. He carried the sleeping children up all six flights of stairs, then down to the end of the hall and into the room they’d chosen. The water basin still had plenty for drinking, and Biandina had laid out the blankets in preparation for the night. With everything so nicely arranged, the room looked rather welcoming. He’d have to mention it in the morning.

Dirt gently laid them down, separated them, and nestled them in together. He tucked the blankets around them, leaving room for himself next to Biandina.

Now, to go chase off that fairy, or whatever it was. Just the one, strangely. He took a peek out the window before he went down and saw nothing unusual. No black stuff swarming the ground and surrounding the tower. If that was returning, it wasn’t here yet.

On his way back down, Dirt reinforced his will, focusing on staying awake and not dreaming a little bit. Discipline and sincerity, and he would not budge a hair’s width. Nothing was going to be tricking him again tonight.

On the ground floor, he leaned out the windows to check all four of his light enchantments and found them still nearly full. He went to the butchery room and retrieved his knife, then went to stand in the doorway and listen for any sound encroaching through the silence.

And silent it was. No crickets this time of year. No chirping frogs or late birds. A gentle wind stirred through the windows, but it only blew in short whispers with long pauses in between. He went to the front door of the tower and sat cross legged, just inside the threshold. That mind was still there and still hiding all its thoughts. If only Socks were here, they could meld their minds and locate it.

Dirt swallowed away the dread, but it came right back every time. Antelmu and Biandina’s minds were well within his range, and he took comfort from knowing they were both still sleeping, so far dreamlessly. Nothing had disturbed them. But down here, there was no one protecting him, and he had no idea what to expect. Or when.

The crunching of footsteps in snowy gravel shook him from his thoughts. A pale figure emerged, the white of its clothing reflecting the light of his enchantment so brightly that Dirt thought it might be glowing on its own. A man approached, a curiously short one, human in appearance but about as tall as Dirt. A human cut down to two-thirds normal size. He wore a stately toga cut in senatorial style and carried it perfectly. Nowhere did the cloth touch the ground. The golden-ribboned sandals on his feet moved in a confident rhythm. A victor’s crown of laurels around his head held curls of dark hair, and at first no color was visible.

But as more of the man came into the light, he seemed less human. His hair was a dark purplish color that gleamed in flashing streaks in the magical light, and his skin had a blue tone paler than the sky. The toga was white as Dirt’s pure light, white as the brightest cloud. The man smiled as he approached, warmly condescending.

He stopped four paces from the doorway. “Greetings, old man. It has been a long time!” he said, his voice high-pitched but still that of an adult man. Dirt realized he was speaking Dirt’s language, the Sunset Empire’s tongue.

Dirt panicked, trying to remember how Father’s list of destinations was arranged. Somewhere there was something for Dirt, but that wasn’t here, was it? No, it couldn’t be. That had to be farther. He wished he’d paid more attention to Socks’s mental map.

“Have I startled you? Surely not. Rise, you grumpy old curmudgeon, and greet me!”

Dirt leaned back on his hands, not ready to stand just yet, lest he suddenly find himself walking against his will. “It’s been a long day. I don’t remember you. Have we met?” he asked.

The man smiled with the warmest patrician air. His eyes were a deep lavender with no whites, all one color, and Dirt thought his teeth looked awfully sharp.

“I cannot blame you for forgetting me, after what happened. But of course you know me. Do you deny it?” asked the man, tilting his head slightly.

“I don’t remember much, and I don’t remember you. Sorry.”

“Do you remember your name, at least?”

Dirt pondered that for a moment. “Do you?”

“Do I remember my own name, or yours?”

“My name. Do you know who I am?”

“You are the void walker, the bane of gods and bringer of ruin. The Shatterer. You are the sufferer, the Returned, a friend of wolves and the Son of the Forest. The Great Wizard, the Renowned Teacher. The Changed Man, the Druid, the Savior of Ogena and the Camayans,” said the man, reciting with an actor’s emphasis and gravitas.

“That sounds right. But do you know my name?” Dirt asked. The strangeness of this encounter had him feeling more wary than friendly.

A hint of dismay flashed across the small man’s face. “I would still hear you say it.”

“You don’t actually know it, do you? How do you know all those other things, if not that? You know a lot about me, obviously. You’re dressed like one of my people and speaking my language. You even have the right body language,” said Dirt.

“Of those who remember, not many will forgive what you have done. I will, and already have. Is that not enough to share with me something so simple as your name?” asked the man.

“Well, what’s yours?”

“I am often called Incantatus,” said the man, giving a subtle gesture at himself to emphasize his greatness.

“You mean like ‘enchanted’ or ‘charmer’? Something like that? That’s your name?” said Dirt.

“I have given you mine. Will you not now tell me yours?”

Dirt stood and took one step back. Incantatus took a step forward. Dirt stepped back, and again. The strange little man stopped at the doorway and went no farther. “I see. So you really can’t come in here.”

The man smiled. “You always were a clever one, you and your games and tricks. I never did overcome you. Your riddles. How about this. In recognition of our friendship, let us make a bargain. If you tell me your name, I will return a precious memory to you. The first of many, I hope.”

Dirt froze involuntarily. Hopefully the man hadn’t noticed how startling that had been. “How can you do that? They’re lost.”

“My friend, nothing can be lost to the dream.”

“They got sucked out by the void. They’re burned up in the abyss,” said Dirt. “Along with my time and everything else.”

“A thing being lost in the waking world does not mean it has vanished from all possibility. Test me. Give me your name, and see what I return to you. I never lie, nor do I short a bargain,” said the man. The pale blue of his skin pulsed a slightly different shade for an instant, then turned back again.

“Okay. Avitus,” said Dirt.

“Ah, of course. Avitus. How could I forget? That name fit you much better in your later years than your younger ones,” said the strange little man. He swirled his toga with a dramatic flourish and extended his hand, which now had a little honey cake, the kind with an almond. Dirt had forgotten those existed. “Here is your memory.”

Dirt stepped forward and reached only his fingertips past the border of the doorway, just far enough to snatch the treat from the man’s hand. He gave it a smell and found it wildly nostalgic. The smell of his childhood, his real one.

He popped it in his mouth and was a child again. Not the child Dirt. He was little Avitus, about Antelmu’s age, and he’d just returned from the home of his tutor. “Father, Cnaeus has something to tell you.”

“Oh, does he? Why, what could it be, Cnaeus?” Avitus’s father turned his gaze first to Avitus, dark eyes sparkling in his handsome brow.

Avitus’s guardian servant nodded politely to show deference and said, “Your son has impressed another tutor. Lepidus wishes me to tell you that he offers his sincerest commendation at your son’s outstanding performance and recommends him to the next higher course.”

Father smiled and put a firm hand on Avitus’s shoulder. He gave a hard squeeze, just enough to be slightly painful, as was his way, and said, “You are made of all the best parts of me, my son. Well done. Now go tell your mother. She will want to—”

The memory ended there, leaving Dirt gasping at the swirling scents, the bold sunlight, the hand on his shoulder, everything. It was a true memory, he knew that for certain. There was now one moment of the life of Avitus that he had regained. Just one tiny, brief moment. Poor old Cnaeus, whatever had happened to him? If ever a boy loved his guardian servant, Avitus had. And his father! What a man he had been. Rich and educated, and well-mannered. Avitus knew how it had felt in that moment, and that told him as much as ten scrolls on the subject could have.

“That was rather short,” said Avitus. Dirt.

“You didn’t give me your entire name, I’m afraid. The bargain is complete, but it could have been so much more. Would you like to give me the rest, and see what happens?”

Dirt looked at the odd man with a slightly changed perspective. He still recognized nothing about Incantatus, which made him wonder. If they had known each other, why not give him a memory that proved it?

“Why wouldn’t you give me all my memories back, just because? If it was me and Socks, either of us wouldn’t even ask. We’d just hand it all over, and be glad to have helped,” said Dirt. “We weren’t friends or even acquaintances at all, were we? Or are you my enemy?”

The noble little man snorted, purple eyes flashing with amusement. “How could I be an enemy to such a finite being? Certainly not. I wish to be your friend, Avitus. Or do you have too many of those around already? Here, in token of our friendship.”

He drew his hand from the folds of his toga again and held a pile of the honey sweets. Dirt hesitated, but the man was insistent. “I want nothing in return. This is a gift. I hope you will not be too disappointed when you learn they are not memories. Just normal sweets, from my world and lands.”

Dirt ate one and got to taste it this time. He chewed once and it came apart, liquid honey dripping across his tongue and chewy dough holding the flavor. The almond on top was roasted, of all things, not raw. It was phenomenal. He ate another one, then another.

“They are all for you, gracious Avitus. You must not share them. They will vanish if you try. You may as well eat them now.”

Dirt obliged and ate them a bit too quickly. He really should have savored them, eating them slowly and enjoying them to their fullest. But he couldn’t help it. They made him feel like a little boy again. Well, he still was. But a different little boy.

“Let me know if you feel unwell in the slightest. Too many sweets can make you sick,” said the man.

“I feel fine. Why? You didn’t poison these, did you?”

“Certainly not! Never. They were exactly what I said, and nothing more. Do you… feel a pull?”

“Nope, nothing,” said Dirt. “What did you do to them? It looks like I fell for something, so what was it?”

“Nothing of the sort. Simply let me know if you desire to eat more, and I can escort you safely to my realm and you may eat as much as you want. I brought no more with me,” said the little man.

“I’m not following you anywhere until Socks or someone like him can explain to me what you are, so you may as well give up.”

“Are you sure, Avitus? You do not wish to follow me and see my grand halls? Gold and marble and fine wood, dyed cloth and heaps a delicate food. All manner of delights. Your friend Socks might even be there. All are welcome who wish to come,” said Incantatus. “Surely, Avitus, you wish to come, do you not? Come, Avitus.”

Dirt felt the tug, and it hit his mind and his dream body at the same time. A daydream edged in at the corners of his thoughts, showing bright fields and grand buildings, children playing and frolicking with unknown beasts. But he’d been ready for this and snapped out of it quickly. “If you try that again, I’m going to try and hurt you,” he said.

“Avitus. Avitus. Avitus,” said the man. It was almost enough. Dirt felt the compulsion sink into his heart and grip it tightly. But even so, Dirt was disciplined and sincere and ready. He did not move.

“It truly is a shame you didn’t give me your full name, Avitus. But the part I know will never let you escape me. If you ever choose, I will happily show my realm. You will be free to leave any time you wish,” said Incantatus. “And after eating my food, you will choose to follow me someday.”

Dirt braced his mind and was about to slam a jagged wedge of wakefulness into the strange man’s unreadable mind, but Incantatus raised a hand with a gentle smile. “No need for that. I was just about to leave. I and my kind will not return tonight. Out of mercy, I will return tomorrow. Sleep well, friend.”

Incantatus turned and left, his white toga swishing dramatically. Dirt watched him until he vanished, then crept upstairs. The children slept safely, too deeply to dream just yet. They’d rise into the dream soon enough. Dirt wished he had the mastery required to make them all share the same one. Oh well. He snuggled in next to Biandina and slept.