Page 14

The Power Of Memory

R yder knelt in the dark earth of the Ever Dark. The blue and red moons shone down upon him in their eternal glory. He heard the lapping of water on the shore and the whistle of wind through the trees. It was peaceful.

But something was wrong .

He stood. He was naked. Stripped bare. The ground was cool beneath the soles of his feet.

He dug his toes into the damp earth. His body felt pleasantly achy like it often did after a session of shifting from one to another to another of his animal forms. Sometimes he would shift so fast that he felt like he was two of his animal forms at once.

Had he done that? Was that why he felt so scraped clean? So empty and odd?

He wakes, a low rumbly voice said.

No, he is still sleeping, a feathery female voice answered.

What of the fight? And the blood? Another voice asked with a soft huff.

That was but a nightmare. A fragment of the past. But not the present , the feathery female voice responded. Not yet in any case.

Ryder’s head jerked up and his lips parted.

Between himself and the ocean was a line of animals.

His animal forms. He recognized them. Some of them at least. There were ones farther back that were somehow indistinct, but their eyes glowed and their claws glinted.

His lips opened, but no words came out. He was too stunned to say anything.

His newest form--the bear--was the low rumbly voice and it said, He was strong though. Is he still strong?

The feathery voice was a raven that fluttered and perched on the stag’s antlers, Strength has many forms.

He acts the lone wolf when there is greater strength in numbers , his wolf answered as it drew its tail around its feet.

Ryder stumbled towards the animals. They regarded him with slight alarm.

He sank to his knees before the wolf and stared into its silver, glowing eyes.

Grayson had said it was soft. He thought he would never know how soft.

He reached out and stroked the wolf’s ruff.

It tilted its head down to watch his fingers card through its thick fur.

“Soft,” he said and laughed.

The laughter started to turn hysterical and so he clamped his hands over his mouth and shook for a moment. Only when he had some control over himself did he reach again to pet his wolf and stroke one of the stag’s long legs. His bear nuzzled him, wanting to get in on the action.

Ryder let out a bubbling laugh that was also a sob and wrapped his arms around the big bear’s neck.

He buried his face into the thick, brown fur and just cried.

Tears of joy and wretched ones of sadness.

He didn’t know where the sadness came from exactly.

Maybe the knowledge that as close as these beings were to him, they were also impossibly out of reach.

Until now. He pulled back, wiping his tears from his eyes.

The stag licked one away and he stroked its soft muzzle.

“I don’t understand,” Ryder confessed, “I didn’t know you were separate from me.”

He had felt a connection to the animal he inhabited but he hadn’t known they had personalities-- souls --outside of his. They merely regarded him curiously. Not angry at his lack of knowledge.

There are many things you do not remember, the raven said finally and fluttered its wings.

“Many things? Yes, yes, I don't even know where we are. Or how we got here. Or how are you… here ?” Ryder asked.

We are always here , the stag answered and shifted its front hooves.

Ryder’s gaze skimmed the horizon, turning in a full circle, to see what landmarks were in sight.

There was a forest. There was an ocean. There were snow-capped mountains in the distance.

And, of course, there were the twin moons of the Ever Dark.

But it felt empty to be the Ever Dark itself.

The skin at the nape of his neck was not crinkling with the feeling of unseen eyes upon him and that always happened in the Ever Dark.

“I’m not awake,” Ryder realized as he cast around. “This is a dream.”

You’ve never been awake , the raven insisted.

Ryder narrowed his eyes at that. Was the raven speaking literally or figuratively? It had to be the latter.

Weryn . That’s what it means, Ryder thought. I didn’t allow myself to know who I really was.

Ryder straightened and addressed the animals formally, “I know I’m Weryn reborn.”

Reborn, he adds , a hiss rose up from the ground. Still he puts distance as if Weryn is a skin he can shed. But it is not so easy.

The voice came from his snake form. A massive anaconda over 25 feet long that slithered out of the grass and wound around his torso, stopping only when its head was even with his.

“That’s what the other Immortals call themselves. Reborn,” Ryder insisted.

You are not like the others, the snake said, its tongue whispering out to taste the air--or perhaps him--for the possibility of prey.

“What do you mean?” Ryder demanded to know, frowning.

Do you remember the fight? His bear asked with a nudge from its massive shoulder.

He rocked back a little. “I was to fight Lawson.” Panic flooded him. “Have I missed it? I need to get there--”

You won , the raven answered.

You sacrificed him to us, the snake added, squeezing him tightly.

“Sacrificed…”

For a moment, his mind remained stubbornly blank, but then like an IMAX movie what had happened during the fight.

And what had happened after .

He gagged. Vomit rose up in his throat. The snake’s head moved to the side, evidently not wanting to be thrown-up upon no matter that they were one. He swallowed hard and shut his eyes to regain control. He breathed heavily in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Why?” he finally asked. “Why did I want to kill them?”

Because they are weak , said a low voice behind the immediate line of animals.

Because they betrayed you, said another he could not see.

Because they matter not, another invisible form cried.

These voices sounded wrong . Like the howling of monsters on the night wind. Cold sweat coated him.

Because you wanted to , the snake hissed and smiled.

“Grayson! I didn’t--please tell me I didn’t hurt him!” Ryder gasped.

There were creaking laughs in the distance that didn’t comfort him.

“TELL ME!” Ryder roared and got to his feet.

The movie had stopped before the end. He needed to know.

Ashyr controls himself and your temper, the raven answered with a fluff of its wings.

And all else in the Ring, the wolf huffed. Revealed himself to save them… and you. Like the pack he is.

Ryder blinked. “Grayson is Ashyr?”

Did Grayson realize this? Had anyone told him yet? Maybe he had simply figured it out! Nothing had been left for chance. Gregory Starn had been meant to die in Grayson’s shop and everything that happened after that had been known too!

The Immortals clustered around Grayson already.

They welcomed him. And Ryder was glad for that.

But part of him hurt as he realized that none had truly welcomed him.

Was it just because of the Weryn’s stance on the school?

Or did they remember or sense what he was?

Only Wyvern had come to speak to him kindly. He had never felt so alone.

Another thing you choose not to remember though the knowledge sent you here? The raven looked disgusted with him.

Ryder searched his memories and he caught just a bit of Weryn’s thoughts when he had realized who Grayson truly was. There had been such joy and pain and shock … He could know why those things were if he just reached into his memory a little deeper and--

“No!” Ryder grasped his head with his hands and shook himself.

Cold sweat slicked his naked body. For a moment, just as he had touched those thoughts, those memories, he had felt that falling sensation, of being sucked into a vortex where he was no more.

Just a few wisps of memory. This person-- Weryn --had wanted to kill all of his own Bloodline, except for Demos, and only Grayson’s intervention stopped him.

Weryn is like a wild animal. No, that does not do him justice. Wild animals react out of fear. He was not afraid. He was motivated by rage, Ryder realized. A dark and primordial rage. He’s like the War Children we kill except he’s in control. That’s just who he is. Who I am…

“Daemon saw all this--he must know who and what I am--why did he set Lawson and I up for battle by choosing me? How could he want that person back?”

Immortal of War , the raven cawed.

He let out a faint, sour huff of laughter. “So the king wants his general back?”

You are not his general. Ashyr holds that spot. You are his berserker. The one he sends to destroy his enemies and leave nothing behind, the raven answered.

Ryder’s shoulders curled inwards. Yes, that would be accurate. That was who he was. The killer.

“Why am I here? I already guessed that Grayson was likely Ashyr. That could not shock me,” Ryder said.

Just as you cannot access the old memories, the old memories cannot access you, the raven said.

“Why would that matter? Why would Ashyr returning mean anything to Weryn?” Ryder asked, even as those dreams poked at him.

The animals started to move. They flowed to a central point and their bodies changed to simply shadows.

Even the things that were just out of sight, blurry loping and lumbering and slithering shapes, joined into this massive shadow.

The snake was the very last to unwind from his body and melded into the seething shadow.

But just before the flicker of its tail disappeared, the snake hissed, Because Ashyr’s death started the War .

Ryder jerked at the words. His mouth felt dry as dust. The shadow changed.

It formed a throne made of bones and skulls.

There was the hot stink of death from it.

It looked raw and handmade in the worst sense.

There was no beauty in it. Just rage. This was a throne carved from the bones of his enemies.

Which enemies? Who are they? Ryder wondered.