The Beginning After The End - Chapter 495: Us Lessers

ARTHUR LEYWIN

A thousand worries—some small, others as large as the sea between Dicathen and Alacrya—vied for my attention as Windsom activated the teleportation artifact. I couldn’t help but second guess my return to the asuran homeland. Should I have delayed, or have planned to stay longer in Dicathen to begin with? Which was more important, the unfolding struggle for power in Epheotus or the continuing tension that threatened to burst between the peoples of my home?

I had done what I could to ensure some stability before I left, but there just hadn’t been enough time to resolve every potential problem, nor to visit all the people who deserved my attention. The aftermath of the protestors’ attack on the Alacryan refugees had been a mess to clean up. Lord Silvershale had nearly been killed by one of his own men; the dwarven lords were calling for a hostile takeover of the Beast Corps project, claiming that the project had relied on dwarven resources and been completed under dwarven land, making it their intellectual property; and all of Darv seemed poised for yet another civil conflict.

Meanwhile, I hadn’t even had time to visit the Glayders in Etistin or Chul in the Hearth. I could only hope the rest of his healing had gone well and that he’d woken up. A part of me had hoped that he’d seek me out before we left Dicathen again, but I knew I couldn’t take him with me to Epheotus. There was no telling how either Kezess or Novis, lord of the Avignis clan and the phoenix race, would react.

I had to keep King’s Gambit partially empowered just to keep myself from collapsing under the weight of all these competing threads of thought. Although I would have preferred to fully activate the godrune, which would have given me the bandwidth to thoroughly compartmentalize and develop these individual thoughts, I didn’t want to create that barrier between the others and myself.

Windsom stepped aside and gestured for me to go through the portal he had created, a golden oval that hung above his artifact. I quickly met the eyes of Ellie, Sylvie, and my mother, gauging their readiness. My focus also looked inward to Regis, who waited excitedly to reach our destination.

With a wink to my sister that expressed a playfulness I wasn’t feeling, I stepped through the portal.

The smell of soil and damp transformed, becoming salt and brine. The silence of the apartments deep within Earthborn Institute was replaced by the lapping of waves, cawing of distant sea birds, and shouts of children playing. The Epheotan sun warmed my skin, and a breeze off the water cooled it again.

We had appeared in a square of smooth sandstone. Ornate jade arches opened up into surrounding streets, which ran between alien buildings that appeared to be grown from coral, molded from sandstone, or even formed of pure, gleaming pearl. Just ahead of me, the square opened out onto a beach of silver sand, but my attention was drawn beyond the beach. Every layer of my mind focused on the sight.

I found myself stepping out onto the beach almost unconsciously. Everything else faded away as I stared at a massive expanse of water, stretching endlessly left and right, extending out beyond the line of sight ahead of me. I had seen oceans before, but…

The warm blue water was interrupted by shallow, consistently spaced waves, which curled over and crested not with white foam, but purple. Aether filled the ocean and the atmosphere above it. Beyond the ocean, just at the horizon, at the very edge of my sight, blue sky gave way to a purple-black one, like I was looking out into the aetheric realm.

I had thought the fountain of aether in Everburn had been impressive, but this ocean was second only to the aetheric realm in its density. I suddenly turned back to ask Windsom about it, but he had gone without a word.

Not far down the beach, a group of leviathan children were playing under the watchful gaze of an elder. The children were chasing each other across the silver sand, with those being chased having to transform their body before being caught, covering a limb with aquatic scales or growing fins, claws, or even a tail in order to avoid being tagged “it.”

One little boy in particular, who appeared to be no older than a human seven-year-old, had stopped running and was staring at us with wide magenta eyes. He had a light blue coloration and flat braids of green hair that spilled down around his shoulders like seaweed, and one hand was covered in blue scales with webbed and bearing sharp claws. His mouth opened wide, and he bellowed, “Look, it’s the lessers!”

“Don’t be impolite, little one,” the elder admonished him patiently. “This is Lord Arthur of Clan Leywin.”

The children immediately gave up on the game and came running to greet us. Regis manifested beside me, but instead of scaring the children, his appearance only made them even more interested.

“I’ve never seen a lesser before!” one little girl said excitedly, the ridges along her temples trembling, her white hair floating upward in the gentle breeze. “Is it true some of you can’t use mana at all?”

The boy who’d first shouted out gave her a disappointed sort of look. “Really, Lord Leywin is an archon. Obviously, he can use magic!” He bit his lip and looked at me, no doubt noticing my lack of a mana signature for the first time. Then he brightened and pointed to Regis. “I mean, just look at his guardian beast!”

“That’s not a guardian beast,” one of the others said, crossing arms that still had fins protruding from them. “It’s a summons. Probably.”

“Oh, please do forgive their behavior, Lord Leywin,” the elder said, tussling the boy’s green hair fondly. “They’re just curious, and in their excitement they’ve forgotten their manners. Now, children, do you think Clan Leywin is here to stand on the beach and be poked and prodded”—she gently knocked away the hand of a little girl who was pulling at Mom’s hair and clothes as she inspected her—“or to visit Lord Eccleiah?”

“Oh, we know the way!” the first boy announced, reaching for my hand.

A ripple of purpose passed through the gaggle of children, who immediately began speaking over each other in an effort to assure us that they would be the best guide, and the others were likely to get us lost or drowned. Before this could turn into anything more than a couple of adolescent shoves, our fingers were grabbed in small blue, green, pink, and pearl hands, and we were being pulled along the beach.

Balconies, paths, walkways, and arches opened onto the beach from the city, and as we went, we saw more and more leviathans. They wore open, flowing clothes in bright colors, and most had skin to match the young ones, although in a wider variety of tones. Many had no hair at all, but those who did sported strange haircuts in a plethora of inhuman colors, floating like sea grass or clinging to their heads in tight, mossy curls.

To our left, in the ocean, a pair of transformed leviathans followed our progress. Their long bodies crested the ocean waves only to vanish into them again, providing glimpses of gleaming sapphire and turquoise scales. They were long, thin, and shining, with ridges and fins all down their spines and sides.

Although not larger or more fantastic than the other homes along the beach, it was still somehow obvious when we came to Veruhn’s residence. Pearlescent walls curved upwards, interrupted by round, open windows. Deep sea-green tiles like scales covered the roof and formed awnings over the windows and balconies. All varieties of colorful plants grew around the house, waving gently in the sea breeze.

Our escort held back as we approached the beach-front porch, and Zelyna stepped out from behind an ivy-covered sandstone wall. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she wore dark leather instead of the bright, breezy garb favored by the other leviathans we’d seen. Her storm-blue eyes were intense as she regarded us, but I couldn’t read her expression.

“Welcome to Ecclesia,” she said, the greeting lukewarm at best. “Lord Eccleiah has been awaiting your arrival and invites you into his home.” She gestured across an open porch to an arched entry, which contained no door, nor even a curtain like those in Everburn City often had.

“Thanks for being our guides,” Ellie said, waving at the children.

They all waved back happily, then burst out in a delighted squeal when Regis suddenly flared with amethyst flames and gave an exaggerated howl. Mom let out a light, innocent laugh as the kids turned tail and sprinted away, chased by their own peels of excited screaming. I belt a bittersweet pang, wondering when I’d last heard Mom sound so carefree.

Ellie caught my eye and gave me a knowing smile, clearly thinking the same thing.

Smiling back, I followed the direction of Zelyna’s gesture, crossing a covered porch constructed of carved sandstone bricks tinged with a mild red coloration. Inside the domicile, it was bright, airy, and sweet-smelling. Colorful tiles formed swirling patterns on the floor and up the walls, which were also covered in places with living coral. Light issued from effervescent lighting artifacts and silver flames that hovered above colorful candles.

The room was laid out like a parlor, full of driftwood furniture with doors leading to multiple other chambers. I’d hardly crossed the threshold, though, when flapping feet could be heard sprinting across the tile floor. A creature appeared from around a corner and skidded to a stop. I gaped down at it.

Its body was long and broad, its head flat, triangular, and gaping in a tooth-filled grin. It looked a bit like an Earth alligator, except instead of a leathery hide it looked as if it had rolled in tiny gemstones. Its legs were still reptilian-like, but longer, and bright wings were tucked against its back. Its jaws snapped closed rapidly, sending out a clacking kind of warning or greeting.

“Oh, but it’s so pretty,” Sylvie said, easing forward and extending a cautious hand for the creature to sniff, heedless of the many broad teeth.

“Ah, I see you’ve already met Flutter Step.” Veruhn’s familiar voice entered the room just before he did. His milky white eyes crinkled around the edges as he regarded the creature. It spun in a circle, chasing its own long tail, then skittered back out of the parlor. “Windsom didn’t join you?” he asked, his attention turning to me. “A pity. I do so love his company.”

Although the words were spoken plainly, without biting sarcasm, I couldn’t help but suspect that he meant them that way nonetheless.

“You’re being rude, father,” Zelyna said coolly as she maneuvered around my family and me and into the house. “This is Lord Leywin’s first royal visit to Ecclesia.”

Veruhn waved her words away. “Arthur and I are old friends by now. There is no need for stuffy titles or ceremony between us, I’m sure. But please, do come in. Pull up a chair, as I believe the human expression goes.”

A leviathan woman entered the parlor behind him from a cozy dining room, multiple trays floating around her on little white clouds.

“Ah, thank you, Cora,” Veruhn was quick to say, stepping out of her way as she laid out the trays on the small tables throughout the room.

“I wasn’t sure what less—ah, that is, what Clan Leywin would like,” Cora said. The deep bow she made didn’t quite hide the purple flush of her blue-green ridges.

“I’m sure whatever you’ve prepared will be excellent,” Mom was quick to say, settling herself somewhat uncomfortably on a couch framed with driftwood and covered in woven padding that looked like sea grass.

The leviathan woman bowed again and backed out of the room. Zelyna watched her go with one brow partially raised, an amused smirk turning up the side of her mouth. “You make people nervous,” she said, and I wasn’t quite sure whether she was talking to me, my family, or Sylvie.

Regis snapped a couple of what looked like crab legs off a tray as before he stalked toward the doorway where the creature, Flutter Step, had disappeared earlier. He stopped as if frozen, chewed slowly, and then turned back toward the food. “Oh man. That’s like, the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” His bright eyes jumped to my mother. “Ah, no offense, Alice.”

Mom had picked up a green-tinged pastry from another tray and was sniffing it uncertainly. “Oh, don’t bother, Regis. I know what I’m good at, and cooking certainly has never been it.”

“Well, Cora is the best cook in Ecclesia, perhaps all of Epheotus,” Veruhn said, chuckling. “She’s also a skilled hunter; the ten-thousand-legged crab is no mean opponent.”

“Oh posh,” Cora said from the other room, embarrassment practically oozing from her words.

“You have a cook?” Ellie said as she picked up a stack of thin, papery green wafers. More quietly to Mom, she added, “That’s so weird.”

“And why shouldn’t we have a cook?” Zelyna asked, steel in her tone.

Ellie froze with a seaweed wafer halfway in her mouth. “Oh, I just…um…”

Zelyna turned her nose up. “Did you think we, perhaps, simply magicked our food out of thin air?”

There was a tense moment. Ellie looked to me for help, but I was watching Veruhn. If there were anything to worry about in Zelyna’s attitude, I was certain Veruhn’s expression would tell me, but he was playing the doddering old uncle again, enraptured by the flickering flames of Regis’s mane.

“Well, I mean, maybe?” Ellie said after a long pause.

Zelyna snorted and sat down in an empty chair near Ellie. “You have much to learn about the ways of the asura, girl.”

Veruhn gave a very small, very unsubtle cough.

“Eleanor, I mean,” Zelyna was quick to correct herself, not looking at her father. When she continued, her tone was didactic but not insulting. “For example, the foods we eat are rich with mana, and a skilled asuran cook is adept not only at making palatable cuisine, but also maintaining or even enhancing the natural balance of mana within it.”

The conversation turned, and Sylvie and I spent time making small talk with Veruhn while Zelyna began to drill my mother and Ellie on asuran culture and etiquette.

I found myself surprised by just how homely it all felt; I’d been worried about bringing Mom and Ellie into the middle of this politics, but I also knew I couldn’t do what needed to be done without them. The Leywins needed to be a clan, not just me. They had needed this. I had needed this.

An hour or more slipped away as we all grew comfortable and at ease. I was standing in front of the open doorway out onto the beach, listening to Sylvie explain the difference between clan, race, and family to Mom, when I realized Veruhn was standing next to me, so close our shoulders nearly touched. “I was hoping we might have a word in private,” he said, his voice low, absent his usual jocularity.

“So soon?” I asked, looking first at my family and then to him. “I assumed we’d have more time to settle in—address the pleasantries—before we got to business.”

The old leviathan hummed, something between a chuckle and a scoff. “When you occupy a seat in the Great Eight”—“Fine Nine,” Regis tossed out from nearby, where he and Flutter Step were having a staring competition—“there is little and less done or said that does not relate to ‘business,’ as you put it. Come.”

He brushed past me, leading the way out onto the porch. Instead of taking me to the beach, we circled around the house, passed through a kind of tide-pool garden and under a jade arch carved in the shape of a transformed leviathan. The beach beyond it was silent and empty. A path of turquoise stones cut across the sand to a…

I had to look twice. It was like a pier, but made in the shape of—or perhaps just made of—bones. Not just bones, but the nearly complete skeleton of a giant sea creature. It didn’t run straight but wound out into the ocean like a snake. It was at least a hundred feet long, perhaps longer.

Despite his milky white eyes, Veruhn didn’t hesitate to step out onto the ribs of the skeleton. He stepped lightly from one to the next, making it a dozen feet out or so before turning back to see me standing on the shore. “Ah. Don’t worry. No relation. You won’t offend by treading upon the dead.”

“This isn’t the skeleton of one of your people?” I asked tentatively as I began to follow him.

He let out a guffaw. “No, though I suppose I can see your confusion. You know, of course, of the Walking Mountain, Geolus?” He waited for me to confirm that I did, then continued. “This was something like that: a force of nature, a living act of creation. Aquinas, the World Serpent.”

“Seems a bit small compared to Kezess’s mountain,” I said.

Veruhn was silent until we reached the end, the bones growing smaller until the pier dwindled to a stop. He then turned and gestured to the silver beach. Frowning, I followed where he pointed, not seeing anything. By some trick of the design or leviathan magic, the village itself wasn’t visible. Only the beach could be seen, stretching away in both directions as far as the eye could see, gently winding back and forth, occasional ridges in the silver sand—

“I see,” I said, realizing the truth: the pier was made up of only the end of the skeleton’s tail. “Does this monster—Aquinas?—have something to do with why your ocean is so richly laden with aether?”

Veruhn clasped his hands behind his back and looked toward the distant horizon, where the skyline turned black and purple. “No, just the meandering thoughts of an old man. The ocean is the border, Arthur. The place where our world ends and that which lies beyond begins. Aether and mana both come in and out on the tides. I’ve always thought of it as the breath of Epheotus.”

“I thought Epheotus was contained within a…well, like a bubble,” I finished lamely, not sure how else to describe it.

“Oh, but it is. Of a sort.” He was silent a moment. The breeze kicked up, blowing stronger, and he closed his eyes and smiled as he turned into it. “At the very least, it’s a convenient metaphor. The truth is more complex.”

As I tried to understand, my thoughts turned to Fate. In the black-purple of the horizon, I saw the building pressure of the aetheric realm. All that aether, released over millennia as people lived and died, constrained and packed into an unnatural cyst instead of being used and spread throughout the world, the universe. A cyst that would eventually explode, ripping through the world like a bomb and wiping out all life for as far as Fate’s vision had allowed me to see.

I had shown Fate an alternative, but even inside the keystone exploring the infinite possible threads of potential to see how action and reaction would unfold in the future…I hadn’t been able to see every ripple through space and time that my actions would cause.

“I have to empty the aetheric realm,” I said. Voicing it aloud was like releasing a pressure that had been building inside me, just like the aether. “The force I came to understand as Fate—a kind of…conscious manifestation of aetheric will, I think—sees the aetheric void as a constraint. Like…water in a skin. Fine, under a normal amount of pressure, but if you keep pushing water into the skin…”

“Eventually, it will explode.” Veruh opened his eyes and turned his back on the horizon. “I have seen this. In the waves…”

I bent down and lowered a hand between two huge ribs, letting the cool water lap around my fingers. “I suspected something like that. You have foresight?”

“Not exactly,” Veruhn said, rubbing his chin in thought. “We see—sense—echoes, carried back to us on the ocean waves. I believe you might call it a spatium art, but we do not influence aether the way the dragons do. Still, it speaks to some of us. The ones who learn to listen. But that is neither here nor there. I interrupted you. Please, continue.”

“The aether needs to be allowed to expand, to settle. To…fill in the cracks and crevices, like silt at the bottom of the ocean. Otherwise, it’ll explode. Fate has manipulated me since the very beginning, even in bringing me to this world. It was set on holding me in the last of the djinn keystones until it could make me see things its way.”

Veruhn thoughtfully ran a hand along the ridge at his temple. “Except…you were the one to convince this Fate of the correct path?” Although spoken as a question, there was a confidence in his words that surprised me.

“I did.”

“How, then, will you do this, Arthur Leywin?”

Standing again, I looked down at the aether-rich ocean water dripping from my fingers. “The only way I can. Veruhn, I have to teach others what I’ve learned. By drawing aether from the void, by using it on a scale even greater than the djinn, I can lance the cyst that is the aetheric realm. That is what I’ve promised Fate. It’s the only way to save my world. Perhaps many worlds.”

An expression of deep sadness came over Veruhn, but he didn’t speak immediately. I gave him time; I already knew what he was just now coming to understand.

After a full minute of silence, surrounded by the slowly lapping waves, he said, “In saving your world, Arthur, you will destroy mine.”

“I know.”

My memories of those last moments in the keystone were clouded by the nature of the experience. I had seen the future I spoke of, where I taught others to utilize aether as I did, and the pressure was slowly released as more and more aether was drawn back into our dimension, where it spread throughout first the world and then beyond, radiating into time and space.

I had seen this, and many, many other potential futures. Epheotus was destroyed in all of them.

“If I do nothing, the building pressure will inevitably explode and Epheotus will be destroyed,” I said. “It can’t be saved, Veruhn.”

Veruhn nodded, his expression distant. When he spoke, it sounded as though he were talking to himself. “Epheotus isn’t inside this ‘aetheric realm,’ as you call it. But it does empower our world, allowing the binding to hold its place. To return to the bubble metaphor, it is a thin layer of that place that works to separate Epheotus itself from the dimension beyond. Perhaps if one were to…no. That would not do. Still, this ‘inevitability could be eons, yes? If we instead—ah, but no, of course not. Hm. I must consider this information, Arthur.”

He met my eyes. “You must not speak of this to any other. Whatever designs Kezess might have for you, he will not allow you to live if he understands what you intend, regardless of eventual inevitability. Fate itself, by sun and sea.” He let out a shaky breath. “Kezess is most dangerous when he is frightened, and this is an idea that will terrify him.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured as much.” I paced along the ribs a few feet, then back toward Veruhn. “Which is why I’m telling you. I saw what I could before because of Fate and the keystone working with my own abilities. You, though, with your sense of foresight…”

Veruhn gave me a piercing look. “Before I answer, Arthur, tell me: what is your purpose here, in Epheotus? In Ecclesia?”

“You invited me here,” I said carefully.

“So you came only because the other lords and I bid it?” Veruhn asked pointedly.

“No,” I admitted. “It’s essential that I acquaint myself with the other asuran clans, surely you can see that.” I let a scowl sharpen my features and knit my brow. “We both know what I seek, but the path there is still to be decided. My hope is that I will find more than a land of distant, bitter deities feasting on their crab legs and looking down in amusement on the tragic fate of us lessers.”

“Us lessers?” Veruhn mused, his focus turning inwards. Before I could respond, he waved his hand, silencing me.

As the silence stretched on, however, I spoke again. “I need to know if you’re with me, Veruhn. I believe that Kezess is at the center of everything. Whatever he’s been doing in my world—whatever reason he has for destroying civilization after civilization—it’s tied to the building pressure.”

Veruhn gave no indication of surprise at my words. “What I see is murky. Since you came along, I am rarely able to make sense of the echoes brought to me on the waves.”

“Then why’d you give me the mourning pearls?”

His eyes closed again, and he spoke as if reciting scripture, energy seething within every syllable. “Three parts to your being. Three boundaries to your transcendence. Three lives bound to you in obligation.” His eyes opened, and they swam with a pearlescent color. “You are the heart of the maelstrom. All around you, chaos. In your wake, destruction.”

I frowned deeply, searching his face for understanding. “If you believe that, why help me?”

The energy dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. He blinked, and his eyes were once again plain milky white. “Because in the aftermath of the storm, there is rebuilding. I am with you, Arthur, whatever—ah.” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “Hello, Lord Indrath.”

I spun on my heels, careful not to slip off the ribs and into the water. Kezess was standing near the midpoint of the pier. The sun gleamed off his blond hair, and the sea-born wind tossed his white cloak, making the golden embroidery wink playfully. His amethyst eyes blazed with internal light.