Fall of Light (63 page)

‘The Thel Akai,’ said Hanako, ‘hold to a faith in balance. When there is death, life will answer it. All things in this world, and in every other, ride upon a fulcrum.’

‘A fulcrum? And who then fashioned this cosmic construct, Hanako?’

‘It is simply how things are made, Raest. Mountains will crack and tumble, making the ground level where once stood cliffs. Rivers will flood and then subside when the waters drain away. For every dune raised up by the winds, there is an answering hollow.’

‘For every cry, there follows a silence. For every laugh, there is weeping. Yes, yes, Hanako.’ Raest waved a long-fingered, almost skeletal hand. ‘But alas, what you describe to me is the mind’s game with itself, haunted by the need to make sense of senseless things. To be certain, there are vague rules at work, which observation can detect. Crumbling mountains and flooding rivers and the like. The grinding wheel of the stars at night. But such predictability can deceive, Hanako. Worse, it can lead to complacency. Better to heed the unlikely, and assemble such rules only after disaster’s dust settles. After all, the heart of that need is comfort.’

Hanako glanced away, and then scowled down into the flames of the fire. ‘You mock our beliefs.’

‘But gently, I assure you.’

‘As you would a child, you mean.’

‘Such is our curse,’ Raest replied. ‘In fact,’ he added, ‘one cannot help but detest the Jaghut in general. Permit me, if you will, to explain.’

Hanako pushed more of the branch into the fire. He considered the Jaghut’s offer. There would indeed be value in learning more of these strange people. After a moment, he nodded. ‘Very well.’

Raest reached out to collect a stick, one end of which he thrust into the embers. ‘Some dread failure overtook us, one in which the intellect, knowing only itself, rose to dominate our proud selves, and by the seduction of language then set about denigrating all that was not rational, all that hovered tantalizingly out of reach, beyond its power to comprehend, much less explain away. Although it works hard at doing precisely that: explaining away, dismissing, impugning, mocking. The cynical eye is cast, and the cleverness of the mind ascends to assume the pose of the haughty. What results, sadly, is an intellect that won’t be denied its own sense of superiority.’ He held up the stick with which he had been stirring the embers, studied the small flames flickering from its blackened tip. ‘Is there anything more obnoxious than that?’

Hanako found himself matching Raest’s examination of the small tongues of fire writhing about the stick’s tip.

Raest continued. ‘So Gothos gave to us this wretched truth, and in so doing, he showed us the paucity of our lives. The intellect delights in standing triumphant within us, even as the ashes rise past our knees, as the skies darken and grow foul with smoke; even as children starve or are flung into the face of war and strife. Because the mind that has convinced itself of its own superiority is incapable of humility, and in the absence of humility, it is incapable of growth.’ He waved the stick before him to make the tip glow, inscribing patterns that seemed to linger in the air. ‘To all this, Caladan Brood but nodded, and built for us a monument to our own stupidity. The Tower of Hate. Oh, how we laughed at the wonder of it, the blatant skyward stab of our obdurate natures. A monument, in truth, to announce the fall of our civilization … now that was a night of celebration!’

‘But surely,’ objected Hanako, ‘the rational state proffers many gifts to a civilization!’

Raest shrugged, and then set one hand over one of his eyes, blinking with the other. ‘Why yes, I see them now! These gifts!’ He withdrew his hand and frowned. ‘Oh dear, is that the cost? What my second eye observes – all those poor fools made to kneel in the dirt! And the well-meaning but utterly self-deceiving leaders – living in such splendour – who hold in their hands the life and death and liberty of those abject minions! And there, ever ready with their salutes, the soldiers who would impose the will of said leaders, in the subjugation of their fellows. Why, reason rules this world! The necessities of organization are such
rational
constructs – who could deny their worth?’ He snorted. ‘Hmm, shall we ask the slaves, in the few moments they win each day in which to pause and draw breath from their labours? Or shall we ask the leaders, who in the luxury of privilege are granted time to contemplate the system in which they thrive? Or, perhaps, the soldiers? But then, they are told not to think, only to obey. Where, then, among these myriad participants, are we to look for judgement?’

‘The bards, the poets, the sculptors and painters.’

‘Bah, who ever listens to them?’

‘You heeded Caladan Brood.’

‘He drove the spear into our civilization, yes, but that civilization was already a corpse, already cold and lifeless upon the ground. No, the role of artists is to attend the funerals. They are the pall-bearers of failure, and every wonder they raise high in celebration harks back to a time already dead.’

‘Some would dance, and give to us joy and hope.’

‘The gift of momentary forgetfulness,’ Raest said, nodding. ‘This we name entertainment.’

‘Does that not have value?’

‘It does, except when pursued to excess. At that point, it becomes denial.’

‘What, then, is your answer, Raest?’

The Jaghut’s tusks flashed dully as Raest grinned. ‘I shall endeavour to create a new civilization, one heeding the inherent flaws of its organization. I shall, indeed, attempt the impossible. Alas, I can already foresee the outcome, as I am driven by frustration and, ultimately, despair. The possibility must be acknowledged – which we dare not do – that we, being imperfect creatures, are ever doomed to fail in achieving the perfection of a just society, a society of liberation, balanced and compassionate, reasonable and spiritual, devoid of tyrannies of thought and deed, absent wanton malice, the cruelty of natural vices, be they greed, envy, or the desire to dominate.’

Hanako studied the flames, considering the Jaghut’s chilling words. ‘But, Raest, can we not try?’

‘To try implies a willingness to accept our flaws, and to serve the cause of mitigating them. To try, Hanako, begins with acknowledging those flaws, and that requires humility, and so we return, once again, to an intellect convinced of its own superiority – not just superiority over others of its own kind, but superiority over nature itself. The Tiste poet Gallan said it well when he wrote “The shore does not dream of you”. Do you know that poem?’

Hanako shook his head.

‘Do you grasp the meaning of that line?’

‘Nature will prove itself superior to our every conceit.’

Raest nodded, his eyes shining in the firelight. ‘Humility. Seek it within yourself, be as sceptical of your own superiority as your intellect is sceptical of the superiority of things other than itself. Turn your critical faculties inward, with ruthless diligence, and by that you will understand the true meaning of courage. It is the kind of courage that sees you end up on your knees, but with the will to rise once more, to begin it all over again.’

‘You describe an unending journey, Raest, of a nature which would test a soul to its very core.’

‘I describe a life lived well, Hanako. I describe a life of worth.’ Then he flung the stick on to the flames. ‘But my words are not for the young, alas. Even so, they may echo into future years, and rebound when the time is propitious. Thus, I offer them to you, Hanako.’

‘For your gift this night,’ Hanako said, ‘I thank you.’

‘A gift you barely comprehend.’

The Thel Akai heard the wryness in the Jaghut’s tone, stealing the sting from the words. ‘Just so, Raest.’

‘The Dog-Runners speak with rare vision,’ Raest said, ‘when they say that in the flames of the hearth, we can see both our rise and our fall.’

‘And the ashes in the morning to come?’

The Jaghut’s twisted mouth fashioned a bitter grin. ‘Those ashes … yes, well. There are none to see them, just as none of us can do aught but remember heat yet remain doomed to feel no warmth from the memory, so we know but cannot know what it was like to be born, nor what it will be like to die. Ashes … they will tell you that something has burned, but what is the shape of that thing? For those who burned but faintly, some form remains, enough with which to guess. But for those who burned fiercely, ah, as you say, nothing but a heap of ashes, swiftly scattered on the wind.’

‘Is there no hope for legacy, Raest?’

‘By all means hope, Hanako. Indeed, aspire. But what the future will read from what you leave behind is beyond your power to control. And if that is not humbling, then nothing is.’

‘And yet,’ said Hanako, ‘I travel to find an army that seeks death, to wage a war that cannot be won. In my heart, I yearn for failure, and dream of glory.’

‘And no doubt you will find it,’ Raest replied.

‘Tell me of the Azathanai.’

‘Squalid wretches every one of them. Look not to the Azathanai for guidance.’

‘How did you walk across the bottom of the lake, carrying your armour?’

‘How? A few steps, amidst clouds of silt, and then back to the surface, and then down again, for a few more strides. It was dull work, I tell you. There is a forest down there, making a tangle of everything. And hearthstones in rings, like pocks, making treacherous holes. Tree stumps and overly curious fish. Biting eels. I’ve had better days.’ With that, Raest rose. ‘Sleep beckons.’

But Hanako was not yet finished with this unexpected guest. ‘Raest, can you heal Erelan Kreed?’

The Jaghut paused, and then said, ‘No. As I said, the blood will either kill him or it won’t. But what I can offer is a warning. The kin of the slain dragon will know your friend by the scent of that Draconic blood. Some will seek to resume old arguments.’

Hanako stared at Raest. ‘They will hunt us?’

The Jaghut shrugged. ‘You have lively days ahead of you, Thel Akai.’

  *   *   *

With dawn’s light creeping around the sides of the mountain to the east, Garelko, the eldest of Lasa Rook’s husbands, walked up to the side of the dragon’s carcass and gave it a kick. Rank gases hissed out from somewhere below. Coughing, he staggered back.

From the makeshift hut the three Thel Akai had built for the night just past, up beyond the high-water mark, Ravast laughed. Crouched in the entranceway, he watched as Garelko then waded into the water to approach the carcass from that side.

‘Aai!’ Garelko cried as he looked down. ‘The water seethes with ravenous crayfish!’

Tathenal appeared from further up the strand, dragging another uprooted tree. Upon hearing Garelko’s cry, he paused and looked up. ‘You haunt that poor beast like a wolf its kill. Leave off that which you cannot claim, unless by stink alone you would assert kinship.’

‘Wait!’ said Garelko, peering down. ‘What glimmer is this I see? Ah, nothing but the picked bones of Tathenal’s curiosity. ‘Twas but the tiniest bird, if one can judge said bones. Do you still hear the snicker of pincers in your ears, O brother of fate? Why, they must have set upon you in the night.’

‘What truths then does the dead beast yield?’ Tathenal asked.

‘Many truths, Tathenal.’ Garelko waded back on to the shore. ‘By gleaning examination of myriad details, I conclude, for example, that the dragon did not make that cairn of stones in which was entombed Ravast’s battleaxe.’

‘Indeed? Then did it not crush its own skull either?’

‘I wager that gift belonged to Erelan Kreed.’

‘Why, such perception in old Garelko! But can you be certain that it was not the ravenous crayfish that scuttled in sudden ambush, whilst the wounded beast wallowed in the shallows?’

‘Your mocking words, Tathenal, well match your ignorance. I felt the snip of pincers and can tell you, only a fool would underestimate their vicious efficacy.’

‘A foolish dragon, at the very least,’ Ravast suggested as he emerged from the hut and made his way down on to the shoreline. ‘Tathenal, I see you have collected for us another tree. Will you add it to the seven others and make for us a neat pile?’

Tathenal scowled up at him. ‘The dream felt very real, pup. I tell you, we all came close to drowning, and if not for the ship I built, blessed as I was by premonition, we would all be dead now.’

‘Dead in your dream realm, you mean.’

‘And who is to say that such realms are lacking in verisimilitude, Ravast? Indeed, that realm may well be the repository of our precious souls, and should we die in it, we would awaken with lifeless eyes and an insatiable predilection for funereal attire. Dour and solemn may well describe your tastes in fashion, but not mine!’

‘But Tathenal,’ said Ravast, ‘by all means build your timbered salvation, only do it in your sleep, in the realm where it will be needed.’ He gestured at the uprooted trees now lining their camp. ‘These will avail you not, unless you envision a ship able to ply waters both real and imagined.’

‘Wise observation,’ observed Garelko, now studying Tathenal with some scepticism. ‘And one which had already occurred to me, since it is the eldest who know wisdom. Perhaps, in reconsidering Ravast’s words, it would be better to conclude not wisdom, but the youthful quickness of the youthful mind, that so swiftly rushes to the place of obvious absurdity, particularly when contemplating someone else’s efforts.’

‘A rush to ill-considered judgement, you mean,’ retorted Tathenal. ‘Near children such as Ravast are incapable of understanding nuance in matters of the metaphysical. Lost on him, as well, is my gracious generosity in offering him a berth upon my vessel.’

‘I see no vessel,’ said Ravast. ‘I see trees, branches, leaves and roots.’

‘It is the superior mind that can observe this meanest material, and yet see in it a sharp-prowed monument to maritime majesty.’

‘They buried my axe,’ Ravast said, ‘fearing that it was all that remained of us. We came too late, alas, to see the wet stains of our wife’s tears, as she flung herself atop the rock-pile, tearing hair from her scalp in reams of grief and whatnot.’

‘I looked for but found no clumps of hair,’ Garelko said. ‘No, it’s far more likely that she has already taken young, all-too-handsome Hanako to her furs, and if her mighty will reveals the power she imagines it to possess, why, already she swells with illegitimate child. I see her, here in my mind’s eye, already sated and, curse that Hanako, satiated as well! The smugness of her glinting regard haunts me! The faint smile of womanly victory over us, in all those battles we never recognize, even as our blood drips. I see it, hovering like a knife above my heart, to make sudden blur towards my beleaguered manhood!’