Dust of Dreams

things.
    There was a time, the secret legends told, when light did not visit this world, and the darkness was absolute. But only the true children of the Mother could survive in such a realm, and no blood remains for ever pure. More, there were other beings dwelling in Night. Some saw truly, others did not.
    Light was what seeped in with the wounding of the Mother—a wounding she chose to permit, a wounding and then the birthing that came of it.
‘All children,’ she said, ‘must be able to see. We gift the living with light and darkness and shadow. The truth of our natures cannot be found in the absence of that which we are not. Walk from darkness, walk into shadow, walk beyond into light. These are the truths of being. “Without ground, there can be no sky.” So spoke the Azathanai in the dust of their quarries.’
    Secret legends, likely little more than nonsense. Words to give meaning to what already existed, to what existed with or without the guiding hand of sentient beings. To this rock, to that river, to the molten fires from below and the frozen rain from above. He wasn’t much impressed with things like that.
    The Terondai was smeared in ashes and cluttered with dried leaves. Shapeless ridges of white dust were all that remained of bodies left lying where they fell. There was no sign of weapons or jewellery, leading Yedan to surmise that looters had been through the chamber—and everywhere else in the Citadel, he suspected. Odd that his bloodline’s secret legends made no mention of those flitting thieves.
Yet, weren’t we here at the grisly end? Not wielding weapons. Not making heroic stands. Just . . . what? Watching? Prompting the question
:
who in the name of the Shore were we? Their damned servants? Their slaves?
    Secret legends, tell us your secret truths.
    And what of this ancient claim to some kind of royal bloodline? Rulers of what? The woodshed? The garden island in the river? Yes, he would trot out the righteous assertions that he and his sister were fit to command, if that was what was needed to bend others to his will. They had titles, didn’t they? Twilight. The Watch. And Yan Tovis had done much the same, taking upon herself the role of Queen of the Shake. The burden of privilege—
see how we bow beneath its weight
.
    Jaws bunched, he scanned the chamber once more, now with greater care.
    ‘You damned fool.’
    He twisted round, eyed his sister.
    ‘You’re in the temple, idiot—get off the damned horse.’
    ‘There are raised gardens,’ he said. ‘Find some farmers among your lot and get them to start clearing. I’ll send others down to the river—we’ve got plenty of nets.’
    ‘You want us to occupy the city?’
    ‘Why not?’
    She seemed at a loss for words.
    Yedan drew his horse round until he faced her. ‘Twilight, you took us on to the Road of Gallan. The Blind Man’s Road. Now we are in the Realm of Darkness. But the realm is dead. It is preserved in death by sorcery. If this was once our home, we can make it so again. Was that not our destiny?’
    ‘Destiny? Errant’s balls, why does speaking that word sound like the unsheathing of a sword? Yedan, perhaps we knew this city once. Perhaps our family line reaches back and every story we learned was true. The glory of Kharkanas. But not one of those stories tells us we
ruled
here. In this city. We were not this realm’s master.’
    He studied her for a time. ‘We move on, then.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘To where?’
    ‘The forest beyond the river. Through it and out to the other side. Yedan, we have come this far. Let us make the journey to the place where it started. Our true home. The First Shore.’
    ‘We don’t even know what that means.’
    ‘So we find out.’
    ‘The river is still worth a look,’ he said. ‘We’re short of food.’
    ‘Of course. Now, in honour of those who fell here, brother, get off that damned horse!’
     
    Moments after the two had left the chamber, the stillness that had existed for millennia was broken. A stirring of dead leaves, spinning as if lifted by small whirlwinds. Dust hazed the air, and the strange muted gloom—where light itself seemed an unwelcome stranger—suddenly wavered.
    And something like a long, drawn breath slowly filled the chamber. It echoed wretched as a sob.
    ______
    Brevity followed Pithy to the mouth of the alley. They carried lanterns, shadows rocking on walls as they made their way down half the narrow thoroughfare’s length.
    She halted beside