What Happened After

The glowing battlefield faded. Î stared at the blank patch of earth where it had been. Alisa was speaking, but Î couldn’t hear her. A rushing noise had filled the room.

Bom!

Even the ground was fading away. Black and grey ate away at the edges of her vision.

Bom!

Alisa tugged on her arm. Î ignored it. The tunnel was closing in. Î could barely see the floor now. Darkness ate away light and her body seemed so very far away.

Bom!

The dull thud heard even above the rushing noise was her heart. Î leaned forward.

Bom!

She was falling. She’d hit the ground eventually.

“Î!”

Her name called her back to herself. Î felt a sharp pain in her nose as her face struck the ground. Î considered lying there, just for a moment, just until the world went away.

“Î, look at Emet!”

Î got up. A great wind was blowing. It whipped Î’s hair about her face so hard she was nearly knocked back over. Papers flew wildly in the room behind her. Chandeliers creaked on the ceiling. Torches guttered, sending shadows of great beasts leaping along the walls.

The gale was pouring from Emet’s mouth. It was growing stronger. A table flipped over. The jars atop it were picked up and smashed against the far wall. Î had to lean forward now and cling to the earth to avoid being smashed alongside them.

“What’s happening?” She shouted.

“The… end…” Emet’s lips crumbled, joining the gale. The wide gash that was the golem’s mouth blew apart, stretching into a horrific grin.

“I… have one… last lesson…”

Emet’s left eye collapsed, filling in completely.

“Strength… is not… victory. Image… Voice… these control… the throne…” Tool was knocked over by a flying clump of earth. A second table collapsed. The alligator on the ceiling creaked ominously.

Though the wind pouring from Emet was a hurricane, her final words were so quiet Î barely heard them, “Seek…Death…”

Emet’s mouth stretched wide enough to devour the room. Î was torn free from the ground, her dress and hair sent madly askew. A large toad, stuffed cat, and armoured beetle joined the papers’ chaotic dance.

Î struck the wooden door to the workshop so hard it fell into splinters. As its last ear-rending shriek faded the wind died.

Î curled up on the floor, wracked with pain. The gnawing in her muscles demanded release, but her eyes were dry. She had been crying for too long. She was out of tears. Alisa came over to Î and wrapped her warm arms about her. Î clung to her for a long time, begging her to take the pain away. Eventually, she slept.

Î was tired when she woke, but the pain was now just an ache.

“Are you okay?” Alisa asked.

Î nodded, unsure. “What happened to Emet?”

Alisa helped her stand and began leading her over, “You can see for yourself.”

Emet was gone. All that remained of the golem was a small mound of dirt. Beyond it was a gaping hole which lead back into the darkness.

“What’s back there?”

“I was waiting for you—”

Lies.

Î jumped and spun around. It had sounded like an old woman whispering in her ear. There was no one there.

Î grabbed Alisa’s hand, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes. Do you think it could have been—”

A torch glittered, sharp and silver. A second torch followed, and then a third. The first torch died abruptly, losing both luster and flame. A fourth torch flared. Around the workshop it went: first flaring, then dying. Soon all the torches had been extinguished and the room was cast into darkness.

Î clutched Alisa’s hand harder, “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

Î’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness. There was a faint green glimmer emanating from the hole where Emet had been.

“What is that?”

The two went to investigate the light. Î’s hand still in Alisa’s. Î could hear Tool following them, a faint rasping in the dark.

It took them less than a minute to reach the source of the light. An image rune, carved in harsh iron glittered on the floor. The light only illuminated a small pool around it. Black earth and black stone. It was small comfort in the darkness.

Î didn’t want to stay here. She looked up from the light. She could just make out walls to her left and right in the dark, but the end of the cavern was lost to her.

“How deep do you think this goes?” asked Alisa, echoing Î’s thoughts.

“I don’t—” Î squinted. There was something there. A second green light glowing in the distance. This one had been carved with the confident gleam of steel.

“I think it’s a tunnel,” Î said, “I saw another light, come on.”

A ringing noise began to accompany them as they walked. Î recognized it as the same sound a bowl made when it was struck. The ground had changed from packed earth to hard stone. Alisa’s feet were chiming as she walked.

Alisa giggled, “I wouldn’t be much good at sneaking up on anyone would I?”

Î still couldn’t find it in herself to laugh, but she smiled, “I like it. It’s like music and I’ll always know where you are.”

Alisa’s giggling became laughter. It tamed the darkness, making it a friend.

“You’ll never have to look far.”

The first light faded behind them, yet the second light remained in the distance. Î slowed, feeling around with an outstretched leg before taking each step. The last thing she wanted to do was go stumbling off some cliff lying in wait for an unwary trespasser. She cradled her right arm to her body. That small fall had been bad enough.

If there was a cliff hidden in the dark, Î and Alisa never found it. Alisa tripped once on a piece of uneven floor and Î bounced off a wall, but they emerged from the unlit path otherwise unharmed. Black walls became grey shadows, grey shadows became white stone. The roof and walls stretched away from them; three times Î’s height in all directions. Bits of jagged rock hung from the ceiling in parallel ridges as though the rest had been scooped away by a colossal hand. Maybe a hand had dug it. Î pictured a golem swimming through bedrock as though it were butter. It would have had to have been huge.

The light grew brighter. Î had to close her eyes against the glare, once again navigating by feel. By the time she reached the second image rune it was so bright Î could make out Alisa against the red glow of her eyelids. Î covered them with her free hand. She wished she had brought her chisel.

“Which way was it?” Î asked.

Alisa pulled Î toward her, “This way. I remember.”

Î’s foot struck a mound of earth and she toppled forward. Alisa caught her.

“Tool! Get out of the way! I can’t see,” Î grabbed her chest. Her heart was pounding like a woodpecker. The white flash of pain as her arm broke had come back to her.

Tool slithered softly to the side. Î had forgotten he was there. She hadn’t been able to hear him over the sound of Alisa’s chiming. But Tool was there. And he was fast. Very fast.

“Tool? I’m sorry I yelled at you. Can you please go get me a chisel? A steel one. And a hammer.”

Tool’s rustling quickly faded off into the distance. Î felt cold earth bump against her leg less than a minute later. She reached around and found the tools she’d asked for sunken into the golem’s head.

The glitter of steel burned white against her red eyelids. Î released Alisa’s hand and knelt by the rune. A single strike from her hammer was enough. The light vanished along with its red afterimage. Î blinked in the newfound dark. She wondered if there had actually been any light at all.

Alisa helped her stand, “Are you ready?”

Î took her hand again, “Let’s go.”

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Ten minutes passed before Î noticed the next rune. Î felt it before she saw it, for there was no light. Instead, a metallic ache sent her bones groaning and twisting beneath their sinews. A dull flash of silver washed over her.

“I think the next rune is carved in lead.”

Î didn’t hear Alisa’s reply. She didn’t even know if Alisa had replied. The stale smelling air had vanished, as had its damp taste. The blood rushing through Î’s veins stilled. She wasn’t even sure if she was still breathing, but she found she didn’t care. The rune had suffused senses in lead.

Î’s toe hit a groove, sending her sprawling. Her head turned just in time and her chest and cheek struck the floor.

“Ah!”

Her head ached. It was hard to breath, and Î was pretty sure she had skinned her knee. The pain doused her like a cold bucket of water, bringing Î back to herself. She needed to destroy the rune or run away. Î wasn’t even sure if she could stand, leg throbbing as it was.

She reached about blindly for her tools, finding another groove like the one she had tripped in as she did so. She traced it with her finger. The looping, twisting pattern was familiar. She’d fallen at the edge of a massive image rune, built with channels instead of lines.

Î quested about further and confirmed her theory. Her hammer was lying near what felt like the left side of the image rune, and her chisel had fallen in the center circle. Î grabbed them.

Now…

Now—What was she doing? Î felt like she had a fever, like she was only able to think about one thing at a time. All she could remember was the lead rune. The lead rune and…

And there were tools in her hand. She placed one against the center groove. That seemed right. The second tool—the hammer—was supposed to strike her chisel. So she did so. Again. And again. Channeling a line the width of her hand. And again.

A great cloud lifted. The pain from Î’s injuries returned with renewed intensity. She gasped and clutched her knee.

“Are you alright?” Alisa was there, and Tool. Î was in a tunnel behind Emet’s body.

“I- I… My knee hurts,” said Î.

Alisa laughed, “You should see your face, it’s nearly as red as mine.”

There was light. The tunnel was glowing. Red. Gentle. Peaceful. Just left of the lead image rune was a much smaller one, carved in copper. Î crawled over to it and ran her fingers along the rune. It was warm to the touch.

Î’s aches and pains faded away. Even the ones behind her eyes where only she could see. Lord Glove, King Otto, Emet; all part of something she didn’t understand. She didn’t need to understand. She was not responsible for anyone or anything. Every duty had been imagined. Every obligation, self-imposed. Î was free. She could do anything.

Î stood and embraced Alisa. Her joy could not be contained. She laughed as she spotted Tool and wished he could join her.

“I should have given you a voice,” Î bent down to kiss Tool on his head, “and I will! As soon as we get back.”

“It’s peaceful here, isn’t it?” said Alisa, laughing as Î spat dirt from her teeth.

Î grabbed her hand once more, and grabbed Tool’s arm in the other.

“Yeah,” she said softly.

Walking down the tunnel was as easy as dreaming. A mere hundred paces later the tunnel shrunk down to an archway, just large enough for the trio to walk through side by side. Past the archway was a room lit by a soft blue light.

The walls of the room were lined with small bricks, all different shapes and sizes. At the center of the room was a pedestal which rose so smoothly from the stone floor it must have been carved there. Atop it was the source of the blue light: Two image runes intertwined; one bronze, the other silver.

A strange glimmer in the corner of the room caught Î’s attention. One of the small bricks contained an active image rune, but it had been carved in a metal Î had never seen used before. Î went over to it. The rune had been painted onto the stone with gold, but it didn’t seem to give off light or cast an image. Î ran her finger along the brick, trying to discern the rune’s purpose. The stone shifted.

Î pressed harder and the brick spun perpendicular to its hole, revealing itself to be less than a seventh of a seventh wide. Behind the brick Î found a small chain made from a red metal she didn’t recognize. Î pulled it free. The chain was linked together into a ring; a necklace, set with a small marble orb.

Î placed the necklace over her head to lay beside the wooden ring. She wasn’t sure why she had put it on, except that it had felt like she should. Like she would. Î felt strange, like she was still in a dream, but one where she already knew the ending.

Î turned away from the alcove, causing the marble orb to shift beneath her dress. It pressed coldly against her skin, causing her to jump. Alisa laughed. Î grabbed the orb through her dress—

A small girl crying as she watches her pancake fall to the floor. Her father picks it up and throws it to the large brown dog waiting patiently at the threshold. He picks her up and spins her around. His dark eye’s glitter as they meet her own. She doesn’t laugh, but the crying stops.

“I’ll make you another one Î, don’t you worry. I’ll see you and our dog well fed.”

The girl’s father ruffles her hair and then walks out the door. Î can’t see it, but she knows he keeps a small fire burning there.

Î released the orb and collapsed.

Alisa leaped across the room and caught her before her knees hit the ground.

“What happened?”

“My papa,” It was all Î could manage. She was disoriented, past and present all mixed together.

“Lanet?”

Î shook her head. Lanet had taken her from her father. Or her father had died. She couldn’t remember now. It had been too long ago.

Î removed the necklace to pass it to Alisa. The marble touched her palm once more—

A woman hides behind a mountain. Her eyes are closed. An orb, identical to the one in Î’s own hand except in size, is pressed to her forehead. She speaks in a whisper which shakes the trees on the mountain, “I am OUtashYana, crafter of this orb. I am being hunted, and will soon be found. This is how I will die. Thank you for being with me. To you who finds this, I wish for you to take it as my gift. I hope it helps you. I hope you remember me.”

The woman takes the orb away from her forehead with a sob. A vast army appears on the horizon, stretching along its whole length save in the direction OUtashYana flees. Tears streak down her face. She leaps a mountain, then stops. Another army, as large as the last is before her. It is as if the whole world is covered in soldiers except where she stands. They are puny compared to her, but in such numbers she can only die.

“No!” Î had felt the woman’s fear. Felt her absolute despair.

“What is it?”

Î was trembling so hard the chain began to slip through her fingers. She grabbed at it—

“Replace my boat, get me a pair of shoes that fit, and she’s yours,” a man with massive shoulders and dark brown skin gestures to his daughter who is mending a net.

The young man with wild blond hair nods, “You’ll have them by tomorrow.”

Now the young man sits in a carriage next to the crying young woman. She is repeating the same thing over and over, “What did I do wrong?”

The blond man reins in his oxen and slides across the bench towards her, “Nothing. You did everything right. You’re famous for your skill. Everyone I met on the way here knows the name ‘Rebeka’.”

Rebeka’s long dark hair can’t completely hide her tears, “My father sold me. You bought me.”

The man smiles and lets out a charming laugh, “I did no such thing. I asked your elders for assistance and they sent me to your father. The poor man is going to miss having such a splendid helper, so I did my best to compensate him. I’ve never seen anyone mend a net as fast as you.”

Rebeka offers a wet smile and brushes back a lock of hair stuck to her face with tears, “Thank you. But if we were equals you would have told me your name.”

The young man’s eyes widen with shock, “Forgive me, I didn’t think to mention it! I’m Glove.”

Now Glove stares at a small golem carrying a boulder twice its size towards a bridge.

“How do they do that?” he mutters.

Rebeka hears and walks over, “I can teach you, if you like.”

Glove smiles, “Please.”

“The runes confer strength to the golem. They can be used on anything. Even people.”

“Really…” Glove looks away to the horizon where plumes of smoke are starting to rise.

Now Rebeka sits in well-lit wooden room staring down at ten exquisitely made iron bodies. There is a knock at the door. Rebeka looks up with a start. Glove strides through the door and she smiles.

“I hear you got your own little dom Lord Glove.”

He winces, “It’s not mine. I didn’t do all that much.”

“You abducted me. Surely that is worth more than all the jewels in the world to Ganter,” she keeps smiling as she says this.

Again he winces. He tugs at one of his long black sleeves, “The title is more like a contract to ensure I keep doing what I’m doing.”

“Is that what these are for?” Rebeka asks, gesturing to the forms of metal on the ground.

“I need warriors. Can you work these?”

Rebeka considers them, “With difficulty. I’ll need a constant source of heat to work the metal. And it will take many obey runes. That means a lot of gold. But I can do it.”

Now Rebeka stands over a body stripped of clothes. Bruised and bloodied, blond hair matted red- brown from a cut across his face. Eyes flutter open and Lord Glove smiles up at her, “I chased them off.

Rebeka does not return the smile. She takes a rag damp with water and begins cleaning the wounds about his face, “I saw you kill Kolek.”

Lord Glove’s smile fades, “The Kingdom—”

“The Kingdom first. You’ve said that more times than anything else in the months that I have known you. Why?”

Now Rebeka sits alone at a table in the keep. It is covered in ornate cloth, though set only for one. A messenger arrives, the four guards at the door bow to him as he rushes in. Rebeka watches him expectantly.

“A message for Lord Glove.”

Her face falls, “He is gone on a mission for King Tate. Something to do with his pregnant wife. I don’t know when he will return. You may speak to me as if I were him.”

The messenger glances back to a guard who nods at him. He licks his lips then speaks, “My Lord Glove, good news. The mission is finally at an end. The Maharal are no more. The last battle was fought at Swallow River without casualties for your forces. The Glovedom regiment will be returning within the month.”

He looks up and smiles at her, then steps back in fear. Rebeka’s face is pale and fires burn in her dark eyes.

Now Lord Glove rides his horse to the entrance of the long stair leading down to where the artifact was unearthed.

“Rebeka! Where are you going? You’ll catch a cold down there. I have great news! King Tate’s son is born. They’re going to name him Otto.”

Rebeka ignores him, instead directing golems as they carry heavy chests, tables, and tools into the earth.

“Why do you serve Ganter?”she suddenly demands.

“They will save everyone. A united land is far stronger…”

“My people are no more!” Rebeka screams, “I will no longer aid the growth of Ganter, nor Glovedom.”

She turns and follows her golems into the hole.

Now Rebeka is older, middle aged. She is bent over the form of a cloth golem which wears a gentleman’s suit and long blond wig.

Lord Glove walks into the room, distaste plain on his face, “Is the alligator necessary?”

Rebeka glances up from her work for a moment then down, “I once thought you a peer, a friend. Two inseparable youth to conquer the world. Look at you, young as ever.”

Lord Glove sighed, “Rebeka, my dom has collapsed. I have few remaining under my service and soon they will have to leave or starve. Please, for the sake of what we’ve been through together, for what we once were, help me.”

Rebeka continues to sew in silence. Minutes pass, then she speaks, “For you, I will help the dom. No one else. I will not fight wars for King Otto, and I will not build him armies.”

Lord Glove nods, then leaves the room. Moments later, tears splash on the cloth figure.

Now Rebeka walks through the night accompanied by thirteen golems. At Rebeka’s side is the golem of cloth.

A guard stops Rebeka, demanding to know who is out in the darkness. Lord Glove’s voice floats back and the cloth golem waves down the guard’s concern. Placated, she steps aside, allowing Rebeka and her golems to pass.

The necklace slipped from Î’s fingers and bounced against the floor. She barely noticed it fall. She needed to cry—she needed to scream, but she couldn’t draw in the air. Help me. Î tried to whisper, but the words stuck in her throat. Help me.

Î hiccoughed, drawing in a single breath of air. Help me. Another. Her throat opened. A longer breath now, deep and wavering. Help me. Pain followed, welling up from the tears in her heart. It forced its way up her throat and wrenched opened her jaws. Help me. She could no longer contain it, and she didn’t want to. Î screamed. And screamed. And screamed again.

Help me. Hot pain threatened her vision, building in the corners of her eyes. Alisa pulled Î closer, pressing her against her warm chest. Help me.

“I’m here.”

Tears came.

And that was enough.

THE END