The Land of Broken Roads

The blue fire penetrated deeper than his eyes. It plunged directly into his consciousness and all pain vanished as Dirt felt himself separated from his own body and thrust into a realm of pure thought. He had no fingers to feel, no ears to hear. This was not the dream or even the world of the mind; it was something else.

A roaring sound arose, a slow, forceful crash that battered him unrelentingly. He felt his grasp on himself start to slip and mentally tightened his control to stay put until he could figure out what was happening.

The pressure increased again and again, but Dirt held on, ever firm against the sweeping waves that sought to untether him.

It pushed him in a direction of nowhere, in this place without up and down. Thoughts themselves seemed to take form and appear like the phantoms in dreams. But instead of visual images, they were thoughts themselves, ideas themselves, separated from any reference to reality.

Something about this place seemed familiar, this perfect abyss full of nothing but chaos. He’d been here before. He’d suffered here for ages uncountable, twisting alone in the burning pressure of non-existence. It was not the usual sort of memory that told him so, but instead, a deeper knowledge from a place without words.

The roaring sound became blue fire that surrounded him and tried to wash him away like a receding tide, or burn him to nothing like a thousand fires, but he withstood it, making himself an unmovable rock.

The blue fire took shape, causing a world to spring into existence around him. Suddenly there was up and down, a floor, forward and back. Dirt huddled, tiny and naked, before an immense woman all made of blue flame. She stood imposing and regal, at least three times his height. Her dress reminded him of a robe and upon her head, a crown of leaves held the intricate curls of her hair into a perfect nest of braids.

Dirt shuddered and stepped back. This was the skeleton. She was here with him. All those uncountable years alone in a place like this, and now he was here by her will.

She spoke and her voice was all things ringing in unison. “You cannot resist. I am power indomitable.”

Dirt hovered in midair in front of her face, which grew to half the size of Mother’s. Easily big enough to eat him if she wanted, but Dirt couldn’t help but feel a hint of amusement that the blue-flame woman thought this was big enough to scare him.

“What do you want?” he asked. His voice was a whisper here, a bit of dust soon to be swept away.

“I want you to be gone!” she screamed, her voice raising in pitch until it was a screeching hiss like ten thousand wasps singing together.

All around him swirled the blue flames, ice and death themselves. The flames roared and licked at his avatar but there was no skin to burn. Just ideas.

“Then let me go, and I’ll leave,” he said. He changed his posture to that of standing, one hand on his hip, nonchalantly biting the fingernails of the other. For the first time in his life, his fingernails were actually clean. Whose idea was that, then? Certainly not his.

“Be gone! Die and be gone!” she screamed, raising both hands with fingers bent like claws ready to tear him apart. Fire swirled all around her and flared up dramatically.

She thrust her hands forward and all her fire assaulted him at once, freezing and shattering him even as her claw-like fingernails ripped him apart. They shredded him into a thousand pieces, as if totally annihilated. Beyond any hope. Her will crashed into him, driving him apart and out.

But this was not the first time this had happened to him. Dirt pulled himself back together, his will ever solid and serene, strong enough to deny her.

In the real world, she could easily strangle him, or cut him open, or smash his brains on a rock. In the real world, he was just a weak little boy, nearly helpless and only alive because of others. But not here. He’d lost everything here—his memory, his power, even the years of his life. But one thing had remained, strengthened and sharpened by thousands of years of strain and suffering and effort. His will had lasted the ages and it would not falter here.

Dirt bared his teeth in a smile. “This was the one place you shouldn’t have brought me,” he said. He flicked his wrist and willed the inferno of blue flames to be gone. A shockwave extinguished them all, leaving a very surprised woman of flesh and cloth in their place.

With nothing holding them back, the winds of chaos tore at them as they blew through the space she’d created, carrying the sand of broken thoughts and unrealized creation that had scoured him for so long. He was hardened against it. She was not, and she twisted in pain.

“Now, tell me what you’re trying to do!” he shouted. The force of his words blew the skin of her face like gale-force winds, pushing her cheeks and unraveling her hair.

“I will take your body and make it my own! You cannot resist me, for I am eternal!” she cried, a trapped and tormented soul who must win at any costs. Her desperation sounded more frightening than any threat.

“No, you won’t. It’s mine and always will be. Why do you have to do this? Why didn’t you just die when you were supposed to?” asked Dirt.

“Our sunset empire endured the Long Night only to break after the Dawn! All our cities are empty and crumbled, all our roads broken! It was so glorious, that bright marble, those happy faces who dwelt in peace. We lived in joy and now all is lost. I alone know and remember! I alone, alone, alone, so long. So long. Give your body to me. I have waited so long!”

She wasn’t really listening to him, though. She was trapped in her own inner world, driven to action by ancient preparation and not anything real and true. He knew because in this place, nothing true could be hidden forever.

The spectral woman gathered her strength for her final assault. Dirt felt all of existence reverberate around him as it struggled to contain the power the skeleton had gathered over millenia.

A wall of pure will slammed into him, crushing and obliterating him, seeking to drive him from his seat in himself and out into the void.

Dirt shrugged and turned and let it pass, then stood again where he’d been before. Those winds were not new to him; even if he could remember nothing of them, yet he knew them. He had been resisting for far too long to let himself be blown away.

He willed her to be still and she froze. The force of her power sagged and relented and vanished, leaving nothing but her surprised and miserable gasps.

Her eyes met his then, and for the first time, she truly saw him. Whatever was left of her spirit recognized his, and she said, “Avitus?”

“Prisca?” he said, the word arising in him from nowhere. He knew her. Gods in Glory, he knew her!

He watched as her expression turned from surprise to anger to furious loathing. Hatred filled her so strongly that the spell she’d cast to create a space in the void collapsed and Dirt found himself back in the formless chaos with her. Her hatred burned like a glowing sun in the void.

She assaulted him again, wishing to rip him apart. Her being was so full of hatred that he could scarcely believe she’d ever had anything else in her.

Prisca lost her last measure of reason and she attempted to simply consume him. She clawed for pieces of his bodies to rip away and swallow and make them her own.

But she was not the wolf here. She was not as strong as the ripping tides of eternity or the unknownables that dwelt in the absence of all things.

Dirt was. His existence proved it. He forced her back, separating them and leaving her hungering for his essence she couldn’t reach.

He faltered for only a moment, regretting that he recognized her. How rare and precious that was, after all this time. But even so, Dirt knew she was dead. This was a husk, an abomination. It might not even contain a Self, for all he knew, but it wouldn’t make a difference either way. She had to be destroyed, preferably before she decided to drag him back into reality and kill him there.

He became a true wolf and held her down like the prey she was. Teeth of willpower bit and tore, ripping away pieces of her thoughts and memories. Many he disregarded and cast into the void to be lost forever. People now dead. Her hopes, her goals, her desires. Her love. He threw them away without even a glance, lest they haunt him forever.

Dirt consumed the rest and made it his own—the memories of places, the knowledge of days and months, the names of the stars. How the world had been, so rich and green, how delightful and nurturing.

She unraveled in his hands and was no more. Without her there to hold the spell, the void spit him out for the second time.

Dirt slid out of the chair and hit the stone with an uncomfortable thud that bruised his knees and made his teeth clack painfully together. He lay dazed on the cold stone for only a moment before regaining his wits. All was dark again except the distant doorway, the blue flame having gone out. He flicked a finger and a tiny ball of bright light appeared overhead, its warm yellow candle-glow illuminating the area. He glanced up, wondering how he’d known how to make it. It had been as natural as breathing.

In the other chair was nothing but a pile of dust and a few thin patches of gold cloth. There was nothing left of her.

He recognized this place immediately. It was not a temple, but a schola of esoteric philosophy. This was the lecture hall, complete with… it seemed his memory was still incomplete, and this was likely as much as he’d ever get back. Much of the room’s implements, broken as they were, were still a mystery. But he could remember the feel of the place and how it had looked before, its warmth and wonder.

The doorway burst inward, sending stones flying in every direction. A huge furry shape flew forward and Dirt felt himself lifted off the ground again.

“Socks!” he shouted joyously in his mind, stretching out his arms in greeting.

-You’re alive!- replied the distraught pup. His poor heart was all a mess, full of suffering and terror. Socks pulled him right up in front of his nose and began licking him furiously.

Dirt laughed and squealed for a moment, but only four breaths later it started sinking in what he’d just gone through. His body still had plenty of terror in it, and he could see how miserable his poor Socks had been. All that, coupled with his pure delight to see his friend again, quickly devolved into desperate weeping as it all came out.

Socks lay down on the ground right in the middle of the room, crushing what remained of ancient wooden benches. With a giant paw he pulled Dirt in beneath his head and pinned him tightly. It was as close to a hug as Socks could do, protective and warm. Socks couldn’t cry, but he did whimper and keen miserably as he processed his own fears.

The two of them cried together for a time, each reinforcing the other’s mourning. Dirt cried until he was exhausted, cried until he felt clean. It had only been a few days, but oh, how he’d missed Socks! And Socks had missed him too, worrying about him constantly even while he fought for his own life.

Dirt could feel now how much Socks had suffered. The pup was exhausted, mentally and physically. Whatever hunted him was giving him no quarter, and he probably wasn’t even safe now. Dirt’s own misfortunes paled in comparison; sure, the dryads had probed and tested him, driven him to the brink of death. But they’d been helping in their way and he was better for it. Dirt had gotten into just one real, serious fight and won, but Socks had never stopped being in danger. The pup’s stomach was still injured from the latest attack, despite having his wounds licked. It had been that recent.

Socks began a low growl and Dirt had to look at his mind to see why. The dryads had poured into the temple and now surrounded them. Home stood near the pup’s nose, looking anxious.

“It’s okay, Socks. They’re my friends. Can we show them I’m fine?”

-Mother doesn’t trust them completely so neither do I.-

“They really love me, Socks. Look,” Dirt told the pup. He sent Socks images of their desperate attempts to save him from the skeleton, and before that, how they played and how they comforted him. How Home rested his head on her lap and stroked his hair, how they fed and cared for him.

Socks relented and lifted his head just far enough for Dirt to peek out and wave. “Hi, everyone. I’m okay!”

The dryads erupted into a cheer. They danced and jumped and shouted, looking more like a crowd of human girls than they ever had.

Home leaped right over the wolf’s paw and tackled Dirt in a hug and Callius was right behind her. Socks growled again, but it was just annoyance now, not a threat. He didn’t feel like sharing Dirt, was all.

But he had to share, like it or not. The dryads were insistent as they pulled him out and passed him around for hugs. Socks got up and followed closely, his nose never more than a few feet away. Callius was the first to reach up and pat the wolf’s nose, and he said, “If my friend Dirt is your friend Dirt, then you are my friend Socks. Hello, friend Socks.”

Socks didn’t respond right away, though. He wanted time to think that over. Dirt sent him a puff of reassurance.

COME OUT HERE, YOU TWO, said the Father of Wolves. His words struck Dirt to the core, filling him with animal dread even though the great beast’s voice had no malice in it.

All the dryads had heard it, even though most of their trees were probably far away. Home and Callius grabbed his hands to walk out with him, but Socks lifted him onto his back, out of their grasp, which made Dirt smile. It was nice to be adored.

Socks stepped through the ruined doorway and Father’s immense black head lowered to sniff them. Mother soon jostled her mate out of the way to smell them herself and Father stepped back to accommodate her. She was just a little smaller than Father, but she was on his scale and seemed no less dangerous.

Seeing both wolves towering over him was almost enough to make Dirt lose his wits until he remembered what he’d just done. He’d just faced down the dead in the chaos beyond existence. He could have courage here, in front of wondrous things that weren’t his enemies.

Even so, he wasn’t stupid enough to meet their eyes or look threatening or resistant in any way. Or greet them himself. Courage notwithstanding, he was a bug in their eyes.

Father said, YOU MAKE A GOOD MATCH FOR MY CUB, HUMAN. RUNNING ABOUT, CREATING A RUCKUS. GETTING INTO FIGHTS AND LIGHTING FIRES. LOOK HOW QUICKLY HE RAN TO FETCH YOU.

The immense wolf was amused, even affectionate. Dirt had never expected that. The vicious scars in the night-black fur of Father’s face seemed to preclude the chance of any good humor.

HE IS A PEST, complained Mother.

Socks said, -An amusing pest, maybe. And I love him. Look what happened because I left him alone.-

HE BROKE THE WORLD, said Mother. HE DESERVED WORSE.

Dirt blanched. She was right. He had broken the world, even if he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Prisca had justly hated him for it, but he hadn’t stolen enough of her memory to know more than that.

WE ARE MORE FREE THAN WHEN THE GODS WERE HERE, MY LOVE, said Father.

YET I DO NOT LIKE SEEING MY CHILDREN HUNTED, said Mother.

“I’ll stop it! Whatever it is, I’ll kill it! I’ll destroy it forever so they’re safe. I swear it! I swear it on everything I have and am!” yelled Dirt mentally. He knew interrupting was a terrifyingly stupid thing to do, but he couldn’t contain the sudden passion that arose in him. Dirt hated that Socks was in danger. Truly, deeply, hated it, with all his being. Whatever the threat was, he’d hold nothing back in ending it.

Father huffed, amused. The air of it almost knocked Dirt over, which is when he realized he’d stood up on Socks’ back. Here he was, fists clenched and jaw squared in defiance of beings who could destroy the world if they wanted, saying he’d do what they could not.

LOOK AT HIM. LOOK HOW ADORABLE HE IS, said Father. Mother seemed resistant, but she still looked.

Dirt didn’t know what they were deciding, but he knew it was something.

A dryad in the shape of a wolf approached the crowd, nearly as big as Mother but much gentler and graceful. She wasn’t a predator. Dirt could feel that just looking at her. For fur, she had a forest’s worth of green leaves and her eyes had the same glassy quality as the rest of the dryads.

She spoke to them in body language, scents, and short vocalizations, and Dirt couldn’t follow any of it. He didn’t dare look at Mother or Father’s minds to see what they were talking about, and this dryad’s tree was too far away for him to look at her mind.

The dryad-wolf began to shrink, her movements quickly becoming more energetic and playful, until she was Sock’s size. Socks hesitantly stepped forward to sniff her and figure out what was going on, which she allowed. She sniffed him back and they circled each other for a moment.

“Dawn?! Dawn, is that you?” shouted Dirt. She was missing from the crowd, and something about the dryad-wolf’s body language looked awfully familiar.

“Hello, friend Dirt,” said Dawn, her voice now a wolf’s rough growl. Dirt didn’t know wolves could even say words.

-We can’t say words,- said Socks, who’d been watching Dirt’s mind. -She’s cheating.-

DOES HE NOT RECOVER QUICKLY, MY LOVE? said Father. MOST ARE WEAKENED BY TRAUMA, BUT HE IS STRENGTHENED BY IT.

Mother glared at Dirt, which made him think his heart was about to stop beating. He was trying to keep a good mood and not flee screaming, but they weren’t making it easy.

I SUPPOSE YOU ARE RIGHT.

THREE THOUSAND YEARS IN THE CHAOTIC VOID, AND THERE WAS ENOUGH OF HIM LEFT TO DRAW BREATH AFTERWARD. HE IS WORTHY.

MUST I LOSE THIS ONE, TOO? asked Mother, deep sadness clear on her voice. It surprised Dirt more than Father’s good humor.

Socks. She meant losing Socks.

Father said, HEAR AND OBEY, CUB. YOU WILL STAY HERE FOR HALF A MOON, THEN YOU WILL TAKE YOUR HUMAN OUT INTO THE WORLD AND EXPLORE IT. KEEP MOVING, HALF A MOON IN EACH PLACE, AND THE DEVOURER SHOULD NOT FIND YOU. ONCE EACH SEASON, YOU WILL RETURN AND PRESENT YOURSELF TO US.

“We’re just going to play here for half a moon, and then go explore? Can I come back to the den?” asked Socks.

Mother answered, ONLY ONCE EACH SEASON. WE WILL FOCUS ON PROTECTING THE OTHERS UNTIL YOU ARE GROWN.

Socks lowered his muzzle, peeking upward with regretful eyes. He whimpered gently.

Dirt told Mother, “Please, only if this is the best thing for him! I know it’s not for my sake, but please don’t let him talk you into doing something that isn’t good for him.”

Mother lowered her face until her nose was right over Socks’ head, her fierce yellow eyes burning directly into Dirt’s soul. ARE YOU PITYING ME?

“Yes, of course! Losing Socks is the saddest thing I can think of, and I think Socks losing his mother is just as sad. I love him, but look at me! I’m tiny! I can’t… I’m not a wolf.”

THEN YOU’D BETTER NOT LOSE HIM, HUMAN.

Father said, WE HAVE NEVER TRIED THIS BEFORE, BUT WE HAVE CONSIDERED IT OFTEN. WE HAVEN’T HAD A PUP THIS YOUNG WE TRUSTED ON HIS OWN UNTIL NOW.

Dirt nodded, assured that he wasn’t part of something that went against their wisdom. Regretful, perhaps, but they thought it was worth trying.

He jumped off Socks and stepped back. On cue, Mother and Father leaned down to nuzzle their cub and lick his face. Little Socks had never looked so tiny. Either parent could probably still swallow him whole, but he wagged his little tail furiously and nuzzled them back. Such a precious thing he was! It was a wonder they could stand to let him out of their sight at all.

The great wolves turned and left, running at an easy speed that caused them to disappear far faster than seemed possible. How did something that big just disappear?

The dryads began to crowd in again, including Dawn, still in wolf-form. They gently patted the fur of Socks’ paws. Callius took Dirt’s hand and Home took the other. They led him to the nearest tree as Socks followed silently. The pup’s mind still reeled from learning he was on his own now. Well, not quite on his own.

The dryads fed them both all the sap and water they could swallow. After that, Socks carried Dirt and ran with the dryads all the way back to Home. But instead of retreating to his bed, Dirt reshaped the wooden house to be five times larger, with a big doorway on one side for Socks to come in. He softened the floor and made the whole place look like a small, warm, comfortable den.

That night, he slept in Socks’ fur. It wasn’t quite the wolf pile he’d wished for back then, but it was still better than anything else he could think of. Tomorrow, they’d play with the dryads and race all through the forest. Perhaps they’d see what else remained of Turicum, the ancient city that had been here once. It was the place where he’d lived, broken the world, and been tossed into the void, and it was worth another look.

Maybe the dryads could dig up the temple of Deopater, and maybe something remained of the theater. If not, maybe an old, buried cellar still held some wine. No, not after all this time. It would certainly have gone bad by now. Right?

And after all that, in two weeks he and Socks would go out into the world to see what things could be found, ancient and new. The call of adventure sounded like a horn in all his thoughts until the pup’s regular breathing lulled him to sleep.