Unicorns of glass

by Sharpfang '2007

"Congratulations, Elene!" I greeted the girl as she got out of the car. Short blonde hair, pale round face. She wasn't pretty, but sports celebrities hardly ever are. "Come, we're going to cellebrate!"

"I'll check on Fairy yet."

"The stable hands will take care of her."

"No, I insist. Look, it's as much of her victory as mine. Let her cellebrate too." she headed to the trailer where two stable hands were unloading the mare. Elene patted her flank and came back, smiling.

"Best people, best service. You're such a perfectionist, Dave."

"As always." I smiled and led her to the conference hall.

Elene was back from the international equestrian sports championships, after winning four gold medals for herself and the club team. "The club". I smirked. More of a town than a club. House by house, street by street, the district of the city has been acquired and transformed into the country's biggest equestrian center. I owned about half of it. Huge stables with stalls for rent, horse breeding stud, racing track and locations for other sports events, a riding school, an equestrian equipment manufacture and a professional horse feeder factory. Hotels, hostels, restaurants, bars, a network of shops and the huge conference center were just an extra. Independently from me there was an academy of veterinary and agriculture, a veterinary clinique, a stud of rare breeds of horses, and hundreds of smaller ranches, farms and other businesses catering to the whole horse business. There were enough jobs for everyone, enough money to make decent living for the people, good support and several charities making the life of unwanted horses reasonable, and generally everyone seemed to be happy.

And I was the emperor of this empire. I had a firm grip over two thirds of the city council, I had several influential contacts in the parliament, and generally I had a fair chance to win the country's presidential elections if I ever tried. I was rich, I was influential, I was famous... and secretly I loathed it all.

We entered the huge modern building of the conference center. Hundreds of people were gathered in the lobby, awaiting Elene. Flashes of reporters were blinding us, the crowd was parting before us, letting us through. Elene joined the rest of the team - they were back half a hour ago, but Fairy got delayed at the customs and Elene insisted to stay with her. Together, we all headed to the huge banquet hall, followed by the rest of the people.

A waiter guided us to our places at the honourable table. The members of the team chatted, giggling, while the room was filling, people taking places at other tables. Hundreds of them, and I knew at least half of them. Most of them would call me their friend, though I shuddered at thought of calling them my friends. I drifted away, letting the world go on without me for a while.

Good ten minutes later, when everyone was seated, Elene was asked for a speech. She stood up, blushed, then spoke a bit chaotically.

"We... well, we simply worked really hard. We were lucky. We gave everything we had. We got help from the best people. Our trainer" she nodded to him, "our manager" she nodded to me "and... oh well, I think we got what we earned. Thank you all. And... uh... Okay, Dave, you're a better speaker than me, your turn."

I stood up after the applause died down, then began reading my speech. I didn't write speeches for myself anymore - years ago I lost the fire, the hope that had been pushing me ahead. I was disillusioned, but this allowed me to see what people want - they want people with fire and hope. I couldn't reliably fake this kind of bullshit myself, it was too far from the reality I knew - but I could employ young romantic people full of such foolish ideas and get them to write speeches for me. People were taking my smirk for a genuine smile, and I was a good actor, able to act as if I believed what I said. As I finished, I got a standing ovation... half of the room applauding my fierce speech, the other half applauding my mastery at selling this bullshit to the first half.

As I sat down, a pang of pain struck my stomach. I waited a moment, then excused myself, leaving the trainer to speak about teamwork and shit. Only after passing through the door into a back corridor I allowed myself to show signs of weakness. Precisely, I dropped to my knees, breathing heavily, with my eyes closed, then curled into a ball as the pain was twisting my body. As the worst wave passed, I stood up and stumbled to the bathroom. I found the box with painkillers in my pocket, poured several pills on my hand, swallowed them, drank some water from the tap.

My image in the mirror was a wreck of a man. It wouldn't be long till they learn. And then it will be over. Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, Napoleon Bonaparte - empires of one lifetime. My empire would fall apart just the same after I die, and that was to be quite soon. Cancer was killing me, the surgery failed, nothing could be done. There was no one to continue the business but I didn't really care. I'd die, but secretly I was looking forward to it. There was just one thing I hated: I failed to find my happiness. I got money. I got power. I got beauty - the most beautiful creatures of the world. I got fame. I got love, and it made me happy at first, but then it fell apart, betrayal, lies, fights. No, love didn't make me happy in the long run. I got old and grew tired of seeking. Death would be a welcome relief.

I looked at the box of painkillers again. I smirked. Fuck them all, fuck the celebration. I was always secretly an asshole, let me be one openly now. Spoiling their celebration with my suicide wouldn't be my dirtiest prank in history by far.

No hurry. I have a long, nice walk. I'll find a calm place where nobody would find me. No strong emotions. I'll pick a bottle of some good liquor to flush the pills too.

I headed to the back exit. The pain was nearly gone. The security guard unlocked the door and let me out onto a narrow back road between the big wall of the conference center and a low wooden fence around a pasture. There was a stable nearby. I knew the place all too well, after all I had commissioned the projects myself. But hardly ever I visited this place. The stable was a kind of detention center for difficult horses, where people would sell horses they couldn't handle, ones whose psyche was damaged by abuse or ignorance. Fans of natural horsemanship would come and buy the horses to get them "healed". Sometimes they succeeded, more often the horses would return, to be bought by another one looking for a challenge. The place was profitable due to a healthy margin between the purchase and resale price, but I avoided visiting it. I avoided horses whenever I could.

Oh, I could ride. I participated in the Polo league, I was riding horses in the weekends and I'd do lots to maintain the image of an equine-oriented person, but secretly I hated it. I used to like to watch horses from a distance, I never liked to touch them though. While far away, they were beautiful and perfect, but once you got close you'd see the yellow teeth, the slime in the eyes, the mud on the hooves. You'd smell the sweat, urine, feces. No matter how much you'd clean them, they were always dirty. They'd fart and defecate like every two minutes. I'd surround myself with depictions of horses - art, movies, sculptures - but I avoided contact with live horses.

But as their far beauty didn't make me happy, I didn't care about keeping the distance, the illusion anymore.

There was some commotion in the stable. I went to check. It ended just as I was reaching for the door, but I opened anyway. Buckets, ropes, equipment scattered all over the corridor. Five peope - three standing by the walls, breathing heavily, one sitting on the floor, one lying spread-eagled on the floor. They all saw me and stood up to attention, hiding their exhaustion.

I looked critically at the scattered equipment. Oldest of the stable hands tried to explain, but my smirk kept him quiet and he gasped in relief. Sure I was a perfectionist but it was apparent these people did their best. And maybe another time I'd fire them... but that night they were lucky.

"So which one did give you such a hard time?" I asked.

He just pointed at a stall behind him. I couldn't help laughing. It was a pretty filly, all white, still with the foal sleekness, the long, thin legs, cute innocent face, some sad gleam to her eyes.

The man spread his arms. "She's an escape artist. It took us fifteen minutes just chasing her along this corridor. Had you opened the door two minutes earlier, she'd be gone for good."

At first I wanted to ask some more questions, but then I got a different idea. If I'm to die a bastard, let me die a super-bastard.

"Transfer her to my personal stable. Use whatever help you need."

They looked at each other, and after a bit of rolling eyes I heard "Yes, Sir." I nodded and went to my house. I loaded a small bottle of brandy into my pocket and sat by the window, watching a group of people leading the filly on several ropes. She didn't fight, but I could see their tension. No doubt the escape artist would flee through the first open pass.

My personal stable stood empty for last two years. Most honoured guests kept their horses there on short visits, but I didn't have "my own" horse. I owned thousands but none was really mine.

I went to the stable. One of the most experienced stable hands stopped me on his way out.

"Mister Dave, sir, what do you intend about this filly? She's too hot-spirited for riding."

"She'll be a brood mare."

"She's way too young yet."

"Sure she is now. She'll grow up under good supervision, then she'll give birth to foals of great spirit, but we'll give them a better upbringing."

"An interesting plan. Do you know anything about her origins by chance, sir? Nobody seems to have any records saying where she came from."

"No, but I'll surely look into filling in the blanks in the paperwork."

The man nodded, smirking, fully understanding what I meant by that. Then he left.

I entered the stable and locked the door behind me. I switched the phone off and approached the stalls. I picked a rope from a hook and tried my lasso skill, effortlessly putting a loop around the filly's neck. I pulled, closing the loop and pulling the filly to a post in a corner, then I tied the rope to it, leaving very little slack. I had no idea if she'd really grow to give birth to foals, but I knew that as much she feared humans, from now on she'd have reasons to.

The filly didn't try to run, to struggle as I entered the stall, closing the door behind me. She allowed me to tie her hind legs together with the loose end of the rope, tie one of her front legs up, then I used the remainder to bind her tail. Such a strange tail, like a donkey's. But she definitely wasn't a mule! She'd eye me suspiciously but she didn't protest until I rubbed her sex with my hand. But then she began really to struggle madly against her bonds. All in vain, the bonds were tied tightly. I knew how to tie a brood mare, and she was to be my brood mare that night. I unbuckled my belt, then dropped my pants and pulled the boxers down.

I gripped her rump firmly, feeling blood rushing into my penis, feeling it harden and throb. I was about to give a first thrust against the struggling back when she suddenly went incredibly still.

Something was very wrong. The world got totally silent. Her body got rigid as a stone, the fur felt like steel under high voltage, absolutely smooth but with impression of very strong friction - and hard as a rock too. I lifted my hands from her back cautiously and stepped back, pulling my boxers back on.

Then hundreds of quiet whispers filled the air, and a star of eerie green light appeared above her head. She lowered her head, guiding the light towards the pillar she was tied to, and as it touched it, the whole length of rope dissolved into millions of sparks which gently fell to the ground. Now freed, right from where she stood she leapt above the stall walls to the stable gate. The light touched it, and the gate turned into a wall of sparks, falling slowly to the floor, opening the exit. And I saw a thin line connecting her forehead with the spark... like a horn.

She looked at me, with fear so deep I'd never seen in any equine, then broke into most magnificent, beautiful gallop I'd ever seen, tearing through the wall of sparks, ripping it apart into streaks and whirls as the tiny shining particles lingered in the air disturbed by her run.

And she was gone.

I stood for a second longer.

Then I ran. Holding my pants with one hand, breathing heavily, I ran after her, even though I knew I had no slightest chance to catch up with this incredible, perfect run.

But still I could follow her. I ran through alleys, backroads, bushes and paths, between houses, through streets and pastures, following her, and when she vanished, following the trail of shining sparks lingering in the air. Then I caught up. She was standing in a passage between bushes, on the trail leading further in the vegetation. I approached her slowly and she was backing up to a point, then turning in place as if cornered, even though the trail behind her was clear. I approached her slowly, not sure how to catch her, ready to step in her way if she tries to plunge past me. I cornered her against the bushes and a wall of nothing. Why she wouldn't run was beyond me. I reached to her, to touch her, and she squealed the most desperate and scared voice of terror I'd ever hear. She reared up, and I stepped in, under her front hooves swinging at me in the air. She made a step back from me, and suddenly squealed again, this time her voice full of despair, as if after a great loss. Then she turned and ran down the path, no longer held by the invisible barrier. And I ran too. I kept running, back streets again, then a main road, then some fields, then a rocky brook and tall grass. I lost her from sight but as the city lights faded, the trail of sparks was clearly visible... I broke through another exit between bushes and...

There was no trace of her. I stood in front of a swampy pond surrounded by tall trees. The soil under my feet was damp. I cursed quietly, unable to recognize the place and catching my breath. I had ran for maybe ten minutes and I thought I knew every nook within three miles around my house, but I definitely didn't recall a swampy lake surrounded by a forest.

Breathing heavily, I was zipping up and looking around, for traces of city lights on the sky - but there were none, the sky shone with millions of stars instead. And there was the moon, new moon above treetops. The air was full of noises of frogs and crickets.

Then there was a gurgling noise. Some dark hill began rising over the surface of the water nearby. The smell of rotten plants and mud filled my nose.

I turned back and ran where I came from.

At least, I tried. Half a minute later I was getting out of knee-deep mud. I was in a very dark, old forest and there was no path. Instead, the ground was shining with few stars reflected in the water. The swamp looked quite deadly, but I still preferred it to that horror of the lake. I cautiously followed whatever dry land I could find.

The ground would start making slurping noises and I had to backtrace my steps - not that it mattered, my shoes were heavy with mud and my trousers were soaked up to my knees. After good half a hour of seeking way out and totally losing any sense of direction, I stopped by roots of a fallen tree, trunk half-buried in the mud, still rising taller than me. Time to stop running in circles and rethink my options.

A box of painkillers in one pocket and a flask of brandy in the other. No way, not here, not now. And as I recalled the filly breaking into the run... That beauty... I was so happy for a fraction of a second. So - no, not now. I want to live. To see her again.

So - I can keep wandering. And sink in the marsh. Or I can wait till morning. And sink then, in the daylight. Or get eaten by some wild animal. I could shout for help which would not come or I could pray to a god whose existence has been disproven several minutes ago.

My thoughts were interrupted by noises of broken branches and bushes. Something big was approaching. I crouched low and peered into the darkness. I saw a network of curvy, curly, twisting red lines glowing like charcoal. It was covering a big, bulky dark silhouette. Glowing rune-like markings, big, red, glowing eyes.

I crawled slowly towards the pond where the roots of the falling tree tore a hole in the ground. I immersed myself in the dark water and carefully swam towards the roots, seeking a place to hide. I found a dark corner under the branches and waited motionlessly.

The noise got nearer. It stopped just a few steps away. And then I saw the pattern of red lines looming over me, the big round head looking around. The creature was about the size of an elephant, but the shape was more of a lizard or a boar, except of a relatively small round head. I lay perfectly still. And then it looked right at me. I remained motionless in hope it wouldn't notice me. It didn't move for a moment. Then a huge black paw covered with fiery lines shot towards me. I think I was shouting as it lifted me to its head, holding me by my chest in a firm grip. It observed me closely with its huge eyes. Then I noticed the maw capable of biting my head off, full of small, spiked teeth.

I heard the voice. It was a low and deep growl. The language was alien but I knew it - where did I know it from?

"DO YOU WANT TO PASS?"

And the answer came to me from depths of my memory as if I had spoken it in the past many times. The growls sounded so odd in my throat.

"Not this time, noble Scout. May your Lady be strong."

The monster lowered me a little so that I faced him eye to eye.

"Our lady is dead, Glassblower. It's been a long time since you walked these lands."

It dropped me into the water and strode away in a quick pace. I groaned quietly, crawling out of the mud. What did that mean? I didn't remember any of this. Lady? Glassblower? That language? What language?

I tried to speak it and the growls froze on my mouth as the meaning came to me.

"A fool loses world, for it is strange to him."

"A coward loses life in eternal struggle to survive."

"A traitor loses soul, for a soul sold once..."

I sat in a huddle, my head between my knees.

"...is worthless forever", I whispered in english.

I didn't quite understand. The meaning eluded me but the threat was obvious.

I stood up, shivering, my clothes soaked. Time to find some humans, I thought. Then I caught a glimpse of a light, some fire behind far trees. I made my way there cautiously. I avoided long stretches of water, waded in grass that was growing ankles deep in water, climbed along old dead tree trunks and half a hour later the light didn't look any closer.

I kept going with a quiet determination. In another fifteen minutes I saw another light nearby, and a moment later - yet another. Shortly, it began looming on me - the light was quite close - but very small too. Swamp gas. I climbed yet another big trunk and I could see it clearly - a small flame over a bubling surface of a pond. And now I could see dozens of them all around me, even back on the way I had passed. I sat on the trunk to think what next, but I didn't come to any conclusions before noticing my legs reach the water. And there was water in front of me. A small isle of grass near the single flame began sinking. The long-dead crown of the tree I was sitting on was long under water, and the water surface was crawling fast in my direction as the trunk was sinking. Only the huge ring of roots was relatively immobile and I crawled there quickly. The bubbling noise, quiet before, now arose to a constant hum all around me. And I could smell it too - the air was filled with it. Then the realization loomed on me and I rolled off the trunk under water.

The explosion shook the mass of water, knocking me quite hard, the flash lit the whole underwater world. The water was surprisingly clear and the view spread a mile around. It was fairly deep, maybe three hundreds yards. I could see no shores - just clean, glittering white sandy bottom with a multitude of bones scattered everywhere. And there was no surface - only a cave-like ceiling with thick roots of trees hanging down into water, bottom sides of muddy ponds, quickmud looking as dangerous from below as from above, and few small scattered caves, maybe leading to the surface? Last thing I saw before it went completely dark, was a bubble-like structure right below me.

Then it was dark. I peered up and to my horror saw last patches of moonlit water surface quickly sealed by darkness - except of a small opening, where wild fire raged on, burning just above the surface, promising painful death.

I kept myself from panicking even though I really wanted to. I looked around again. The bubble far below me was glowing dimly blue. And rays of moonlight shone through the water through multiple caves spread far around.

My options... Fiery death in the flaming opening right above me, drowning less than halfway to the nearest cave leading to the surface, or... drowning on my way down to the bubble.

Then a sharp pain in my stomach twisted my body, and I couldn't think of anything but the bottle of painkillers in my pocket. I struggled for it in the darkness, pain paralysing my moves, I opened it and saw the pills floating gently up, I reached for them but couldn't grab any, my shout of despair turned into a sad gurgle, then my body spasmed once again and I felt water in my lungs. As my consciousness was fading away, I closed my eyes in relief of the pain vanishing too. * * *

I was too sceptical to believe I was dead - the place looked much like afterworld but my aching legs felt more alive than I'd like them to. My breathing was very difficult - as if I was breathing water, even honey. Dark room with walls shining with millions of tiny crystals, reflecting several lights.

"Lie still, Glassblower. Don't move." I heard a gentle, young female voice filled with strange echos from above. "What got into you to take the low path and follow will-o-the-wisps? They almost hunted you down." Only a moment later I understood it's not english, but some different, singing-like language.

"Where am I?" I realized I can speak that language too. My voice was low, heavy, speaking was difficult, required effort of my lungs.

"Abandonned corridors just outside Amiria"

The name brought images. A city of dark crystals, palaces and towers reaching... the dome. Which was water. I recalled the underwater bubble. Where did I know the city from? Who lived in that city?

I turned my head towards the voice. The girl was tiny, maybe three inches, naked, and she looked very much like a fairy except with fish fins instead of wings. And she was sitting on the ceiling as if it was floor. She was holding a short staff with a brightly shining tip.

"What happened?"

"Hunters baited and surrounded you. You dove just before the flash, so they are likely still looking for your body. I found you under water and hid you here. I still remember you and I believe in you. You wouldn't bow to the queen, not you. There are few of us still with the resistance."

"Few of who?" I tried to sit up. Only then I realized I'm not breathing air... I was in a thick liquid, thicker than water. The strange reflections and angles of the Amiria... liquid heavier than water... and breathable. Oh, and it wasn't her sitting on the ceiling... but me, my body lighter than the surrounding liquid.

"Us. Amirians. Will-o-the-wisps if you prefer."

"the queen?"

She rolled her eyes. "Where have you been all these years? Why didn't you help when her forces broke the Glass Wall? Where were you when Lereu enslaved us?"

Lereu. Queen Lereu. Sweet Queen Lereu... where did these words come to me from?

Then the little lady froze. In several swift waves of her fins she dove into a small hole in the wall, placed a rock by the exit and whispered "A patrol is coming. Try to talk yourself out of getting arrested, then when you're free, go to Silver Blue at the Belter Square, tell the bartender I sent you. My name is Ecei. And don't look at my hideout or they find me."

She closed the entrance with a rock and I saw shapes and lights in the distance. A group of the tiny folk swimming in my direction. They held long sticks with points of bright white light on top. I wouldn't dare touching the light sources. They saw me, sped up and surrounded me in matter of seconds, dashing through the sticky liquid at blinding speed - I estimated my chances, and finding it difficult to even raise a hand, decided to play it safe.

"Drop any weapons you're carrying!" shouted one of them. They were all male, naked and looked quite dangerous.

"I have none" I replied.

"Remove your clothes."

I removed the $2000 suit, so badly damaged and so ridiculous in these circumstances... my shoes were gone, but I removed my tie, trousers, shirt, socks brown from mud, then asked about my underwear.

"Humans..." one of the group looked at another, chuckling. "You can keep it."

Then one of them swam up to the clothes, and as he was touching them with his "spear", they vanished, one by one, in a blinding flash and a cloud of bubbles which seemed from my viewpoint like falling on the floor and gathering into small silvery puddles.

"Now tell us who you are."

"I'm the Glassblower." I tried, without any better idea what would be appropriate. It seemed I hit a good spot, as whispers spread in the circle.

"Glassblower?" asked the leader, with a mix of fear and respect, but still ready to use his weapon. "THE Glassblower? Then what are you doing here?"

"Found this small rebel, Ecei. Followed her to gain info. She's under that rock."

Three of them split away and swam up to the place I pointed at. The rock suddenly shot out and Ecei sprang out. She was wielding her small staff, and she fought for her life. The battle was short, the short staff was no match against the long spears and the numbers. A cloud of bubbles that used to be her fell to the "floor" beside me.

"So the rumors about you were true, Glassblower. Where were you all these years? And why didn't you get us to leave you in your information-gathering quest?"

"Because I learned what I wanted."

"And that is...?"

"I know many ambitious young leaders who would do much to advance in ranks, like, passing someone else's information as their own. Information from someone who can be easily disposed of."

"I see your point, Glassblower. I will see to you meeting the General in person."

"Thank you."

"Would you like to see General now?"

"As soon as General finds it convenient. We have time until rebels start growing suspicious of Ecei's disappearance."

I felt the "she" behind the name "General", but then...

"We'll take you to General's camp, and you'll meet him as soon as he wakes up in the morning."

"General... Zakasi... What became of General Zakasi?"

"She died in the campaign of the Fields of Ice, seven years ago. Gar-Sen is now the Major General. Where were you, Glassblower?"

"Far away. Too far away. Take me to the camp."

Two of the Amirians held my arms and pulled me with amazing strength first through the breathable thick liquid, then through cold water of the swamp, where I had to hold my breath. I saw the ceiling of roots and mud passing above my head. Lungs filled with the odd liquid lasted for much longer than if it was air, and in matter of minutes I was on the shore. Removing the liquid from my lungs wasn't pleasant though... The small folk waited patiently as I was coughing the rest of the slime out.

I got myself together and looked at the place - it was still night, sandy beach, grassy shore of a sea or a huge lake... but we couldn't have travelled further than half a mile from the swamp and it was nowhere to be seen. Further up the shore there was the military camp, thousands of tents placed in orderly manner, numerous guards on the perimeter. I was led there. The guards weren't human. I could recognize huge biped crocodile-like creatures, two-floors tall minotaurs, small two-legged folk with rat-like heads and long legs bending backwards the animal way, but there was one human-looking rider on a red-furred six-legged cat-like beast, somewhat resembling a tiger, except three times as tall, and the head, despite some feline character was all wrong... first off, it had way too many eyes...

We were approached by a group of the rat-headed creatures, three times as tall as will-o-the-wisps, but still not reaching my waist height. They talked for a while in a language of chirps and tongue-clapping, but I understood it - how many more languages did I know? - they were arguing who is to present me to the General. Finally the leader of the will-o-the-wisps followed me with the doglike creatures - kobolds, as I learned from the conversation - and the rest of the water folk returned to the lake. I was led to a tent near the center, and one of the kobolds was sent out to bring me an armour. Two guards were set outside the tent and I was left inside, to rest.

The decor was luxurious. Sculpted furniture, large bed, an ornamental silver bowl and two matching jugs of water, one warm and one cold, a towel covered with herbal patterns, a wardrobe with soft clothes. I took a soft gown from the wardrobe, then used the towel to wipe my still damp hair dry. I lay on the bed and covered myself with soft, silky sheet, warm and pleasant. Then I tried to think. To find out who I am. I was recalling events and names...

General Zakasi died. Somehow, the thought made me weep. I cried quietly under the sheets, cursing myself, my memory, for being unable to find out who Zakasi was, what relationships connected us, and why would I cry because of her death. And without any sensible conclusions I cried myself to sleep.

* * *

"Sir?" a kobold woke me up, and I felt nauseatingly alien - alien to myself. The kobold and awakening in ornamental bed was feeling as normal as it could be - while they shouldn't. I should consider this a nightmare, a weird dream, a hallucination, but instead, it felt right, normal - and this feeling of normality, of belonging to this place was really freaking me out.

"Your suit of armour, sir. It is not worthy of your make, and I'm sure you could quickly make a much better one, but we have no forge here, so this must do. General will see you in half a hour."

And again, a freaky mixed feeling, simultaneous awe and despise. The kobold was holding a set of armour. Made of glass. It was of incredible beauty, with jade and azure ornaments sunken into the honey-coloured glass surface - and simultaneously a deep subconscious despise for an inferior product. At least it revealed a bit of the mistery of my nickname.

I took the suit of armour and dismissed the kobold. For a moment I wondered what to do next, trying to match the breast plate, fit the bracers... Then I let my hunch drive me. I found a matching set of plain, white clothes in the wardrobe, took it on. Then mechanically, not thinking of it, I was putting the pieces of armour on. The glass felt warm, more like resin or amber, and I had no doubt breaking it would be a feat. The bracers could be unlocked and opened with a neatly hidden button. The pair of boots fit perfectly, and they were feeling soft and elastic, not hard tubes of glass, but springsteel, bending under pressure, then returning to original shape. There was a helmet too, and it was a full helmet, with a face plate fully transparent, of just mild honey hue, but ornamental too, with a figurine of a silver snake on top. The snake was of incredible detail, a better make than the rest of the armour, and its bright jade eyes looked like alive.

Two thousands snakes for... I killed the thought before it formed fully. Somehow I felt I wouldn't like the ending.

I put the helmet on, and felt oddly empty-handed. Something was amiss. A... sword? No, my weapon of choice wasn't a sword. I couldn't recall it, but I'd recognize it if I had it in my hand. And it wasn't here.

I stepped out from the tent, and the face plate changed its hue a bit, protecting my eyes from bright sunlight.

"Glassssblower?"

I looked around for the source-less voice. The camp was bustling with life, but nobody was paying any attention to me.

"Who's that?" I asked aloud.

"Don't you recognisssse your own child, Glasssssblower?"

"Who are you? Where are you?"

"On your head, old fool. I'm one of two thoussssandsss glasssss ssssnakes you made with your own handssss. I'm not your ssssnake, but my masssster issss dead, sssso I can ssssserve you now."

"And I created such a cheeky creep?"

"Oh, yesss. You were very malicioussss back then, to yoursssself too. Two thousssandssss of cheeky creepssss."

"So what is your purpose, snake?"

"You sssshall addresss me asss Balthasssar."

"No, creep. Tell me your purpose."

"To guide you, to aid you, to watch over you... bassstard."

"You must obey my orders?"

"I dessspissse your kind."

"Answer."

"Yessssss! I musssst obey direct orderssss."

"Direct me to the General.

"Left, follow the main alley to the sssquare."

I smirked. Giving orders to people who hate me, but must obey me, at least this part wasn't strange to me.

"Answer my questions, whenever I ask you."

"Yesss. Conssstant order one of sssix accepted."

I smirked again. Somehow this idea looked really like my make.

I followed the directions. Wheezing and huffing, buckling a tiny set of amber armour, the will-o-the-wisp was chasing me. Apparently movement on land wasn't as easy for him, and the armour wasn't anything he'd wear often.

"What is your name, Amirian?"

"Lieutnant Caspian, sir."

"This way to the General, right?"

"Yes" he glanced on the snake on my helmet and I saw an odd change in the way he was looking at me... I couldn't quite grasp it. Two thousands snakes for... my mind rebelled against continuing despite repeated attempts. Why?

"What can you tell me about the snake, Caspian?"

"They are... spare nowadays. There are few entitled to wear them left. Most of them were lost in the Fields of Ice, but more lost their masters in other battles and got recovered. Now they await new masters."

"What can you tell me of the Fields of Ice?"

"Not much. Ice and Amirians don't mix."

"And what did you hear?"

"When it was certain they can't stand their ground, they summoned the blizzard. Very few survived."

"Zakasi..."

"General Zakasi was killed even before the storm. Or so the survivors say. Her unit got separated and surrounded. But she didn't pull the white string. She still hoped others can win the battle for her. That's what the survivors say."

The white string... I rubbed my wrist. I peered at it. Even through the amber-honey wristband, the line was white. I had thought it to be a childhood scar. A scar I couldn't remember. And I remembered not to pinch it, I didn't know why. Caspian's eyes followed my look, and he spotted the line too. I could see him sinking in fearfully. I felt tempted to pinch that place, then cold fear gripped my heart as I put my hand closer. It brought memories of the day I was invited to visit a nuclear power plant, and had my hand on the coolant circuit switch.

It would make it so much easier for the rebels if I pulled the white string now.

For the rebel scum.

For the rebel friends.

For the...

"The headquartersss" said the snake.

"I'll go announce you" Caspian ran ahead of me, vanishing in the doorway of a huge tent. It was really a big one, like a circus tent, the dark entrance in front of me. Almost instinctively I touched a side of my helmet and pulled my finger down. The sides of the tent went blinding bright, but the inside became easily visible, several smaller tents, paths between them, desks, wooden carts, one pretty big tent, a ring of sand in the middle... I knew the sand was soaked in blood.

A realization came upon me. On one hand the whole camp screamed "temporary" as if they stopped for a night. On the other, the paths between the tents were trodden deep into the ground, the camp was here for weeks, maybe months. Why?

I walked inside. The Amirian was running in my direction.

"General will see you now" he said.

I crossed the ring of sand and entered the biggest of the tents erected inside the huge tent. Gar-Sen was sitting on his throne. I forgot the name since the last day, but one look at the fat, masked figure in a fancy armour full of curves, fins, plates, scales and other decorations was enough to recall the name. I didn't like Gar-Sen, I knew that much. I was pretty sure he didn't like me either.

"Was the prize of Queen not enough for you, Glassblower? You come asking for more?"

"It got boring with time, outlander. I came to earn more."

The nickname "outlander" came to me by itself. It wasn't offensive. It was disliked by Gar-Sen, but not offensive.

"Nowadays I'm less outlandish than you, Glassblower. Where were you all that time? I must say I'm impressed by your coming back after all these years. Your check is legendary."

"If you don't know where I was, I'm not sure you're supposed to know. For now I come with a small gift. Silver Blue at Belter's Square, Amiria. Whoever tells the bartender Elei is their friend, will get contacted with the local rebels hub."

"Not much of a gift. We have an agent amongst them, and we know that much, but we appreciate the effort. How long did it take you to learn that much?"

"One short evening, just after I came back. It seems some rebels still don't believe I'm with you."

"Heh. Neither do some of us. Oh, not me in any case. Queen's reward speaks for itself. I'm really surprised you're back. Efficient and precise as always. Look, Glassblower, there were some... hostilities between us in the past. Let's put them behind us. Your sudden... appearance... is extremely convenient. Few recognize you, few know you're back, and I can silence those who do. And the rebels... oh, yes. Your name is still alive among them."

"I see where this is going."

I felt the mild stinging in my stomach. I recalled the pills floating up in the water. The attack was coming...

"The Queen will be very grateful. You will be able to claim your prize again. By Gods, I still can't believe you weren't satisfied by your original prize."

"Look, I'd gladly help you, but my health isn't the same as it used to be."

Then I fell to the floor, curling in pain.

* * *

"Stupid, stupid, stupid."

The old doctor in a white blood-stained apron looked all like a biped goat. And he wore golden-framed glasses. He'd look quite friendly, an anthropomorphic goat-doctor from a kids book, except his eyes looked really devilish. Normally, goat eyes are somewhat devilish, narrow vertical slits of pupils, but these shone red a bit. And he had a snake, similar to the one on my helmet, curled around his horns.

My stomach was stinging. I was lying on a cot in a big tent. I tried to reach to the stinging place.

"Don't touch. Stupid human. To let the wild meat to grow so much, all over your body. The two in your belly were too big to be removed by imps, I had to take them out by hand. All this bloody mess. Any third-grade healer could give you a bottle of imps, but no, you humans try to act tough and ignore the pain, and then I have to dig in your bowels."

Did he cure my cancer? Tumors in my brain, in my lungs, in several non-operable points, where best surgeons said there is no hope?

"And what kind of butcher did chop you up to anger that old ball of wild meat on your bowels, so it scattered all over your body?

"A fourth-grade healer." I smiled, recalling the best expert from the best clinique performing the surgery.

"He should have his hands chopped off for such a mess. Not even a drop of swallow ink on the wound... such a mess." the old doctor shook his head and sat in a chair in the corner." Don't touch the wound, it should heal in a hour. Your bottle of imps is on the table. Drink a good gulp hourly, till empty. Your armour is on the floor. Go see the General."

For the first time in my life I was feeling ashamed, like a kid getting shouted on, even though I had no idea of imps or third-grade healers... I stood up, there was my shirt and the armour. I took it all on, feeling a bit wobbly on my legs. The flask was flat, rather long, transparent - and full of madly whirling red sparks.

"Drink the first one now." I heard. I obeyed - uncorked it and drank... or so it looked, because the sparks immediately filled my mouth, and before I could swallow, dug themselves in my skin. I coughed, a few sparks flew out, I could feel them like fire traveling through my veins, concentrating in various placecs, causing itching, a little ache, numbness like from lack of blood, but I could feel them doing their little work, finding tumors and reducing them.

Some red sparks would rise from the bottleneck and fly away with the wind. I put the cork in place and totally instinctively attached the bottle to my belt. It snapped in place into one of grooves around it.

"Take some swallow ink and red sand. You should at least know how to use these." he pointed at two similar bottles, one brightly blue, one dark-red, on a shelf by the exit.

"Remind me."

"Said by the Glassblower, who reattached his cut off arm using just swallow ink and bandage. Pour a bit of swallow ink on the wound, hold edges together. Make a circle of red sand around yourself to invoke sanctuary. Wait until healed" the goat sighed. "You should remember that. What in Dertanium did you do to your memory, man?"

I shrugged, looking at him with hope.

"I can't help you more. You got a snake already. Go now."

I picked the bottles and attached them to my belt. They felt like they belonged to their precise places. I nodded to the doctor and left.

* * *

"Few know you're back and those who know are easily disposed of" said General. "The old goat fool, a couple of kobolds..."

"Sir? I swear I won't tell anybody!" I heard Caspian's terrified shriek. "And I could still be useful!"

"Can he, Glassblower?"

"I don't think so. And I don't trust him."

"No, please, no!" the will-o-the-wisp was stepping backwards in terror. Wrist band of Gar Sen flashed as he extended his hand, and the Amirian got blown to pieces, tiny bits of flesh scattered around.

"I want you to go undercover. Your first task is to recover your weapon... The rebels have it stored at a secret cache with a couple of other interesting artifacts, so use it as a pretext to locate this place. Let us know through the snake. Then your second job: create a league like you did at the Glass Wall."

Defenders of the Glass Wall. The League of Saints. Fall of the Glass Wall. Massacre at the Glass Wall... the names were buzzing like hornets in my head.

I was one of the leaders of the League... Who were the others? And Zakasi... What was her role there?

Zakasi the traitor...

But she...

My memory refused to continue.

I nodded. "So where do I start? Amiria?"

"Didn't you get enough diving yet, Glassblower? No. Sarri is your next stop. Temple of One, the priest's name is Satoru. He's a double agent. Not to be trusted, but will show the way for a price."

I nodded and left.

* * *

The snake guided me to Sarri through Transition Stones. The stones are big, ten yards diameter circles of rock, some surrounded by columns, some erected on a larger stone structure, some half-covered with soil, forgotten. There were just a couple by the borders of the camp, but the Lost City of Porinn was full of them. Not entirely lost too. The city - a city for dwarves, with third floor windows at your eyes level, was abandonned, covered by a jungle, plants, flowers, wild growth, but paths between the stones were well trodden. The city was an easy way of anonymizing your entry point. Each stone led to a set of destinations - you thought of a destination and you were there. And there was a way to tell where you came from, from the stone you came out of. But almost every stone had some stone in the city in its set of destinations. So you'd never find out which stone you came out of in Porinn. There were too many of them. So people knew you came from Porinn, but not where you got there from. I spent just brief minutes in Porinn, walking to a stone indicated by the snake, hiding in shadows from the midday heat, air glittering over the dark stones and vegetation burnt to ash where not protected by the shadow of the tall trees.

I found one frequently used stone, then thought of Sarri, a cold, snow-covered town in high mountains. In the meantime, the snake left my helmet and crawled under my wristband, then blended into it, becoming invisible. My armour wasn't uncommon among rebels. The snake... what about the snake?

Sarri was a picturesque hellhole. Breathtaking view of mountains about the size of Himalaya. The "town" consisted of several stone-and-wood houses straight out of swiss kitch landschaft, crowded on a narrow stone shelf, huddled against the wall of a steep cliff, with the main and only road of the town leading dangerously close to another vertical cliff, possibly two or three kilometers down. There was no road down, or out, or away, and the main road faded in the snow on both sides, as the cliffs connected into one vertical wall. The only mode of transportation seemed to be the stone. The road was well trodden if narrow, but the snow elsewhere was knees deep.

I thought I should have trouble breathing, but I didn't. The pressure felt level. And then I saw what my brain refused to comprehend at first: the walls of the world. The mountains were surrounded by a wall, and they were dwarfed by it. It seemed to be maybe 100 kilometers away, but it would be at least 70 kilometers high then - it was white, just like the snow, and seemed smoooth too. It formed a pit around the mountains and its upper edge was barely visible, vanishing in the blue of the sky.

The stone was the central point of Sarri, with a little more room on the shelf allowing for five houses to form a half-circle around it, creating a "town square". Judging by the pictures on the boards, the houses were a grocery shop, a blacksmith (though the horseshoe looked a little ridiculous in a place with the road network totalling 200 yards), an inn, a school and a town hall. The inn was bigger than other houses, and some music was coming out of there. There was nothing resembling a temple in sight, and the street was empty. I shrugged and headed to the inn.

"Hello. pilgrim!" the fat, smiling bartender greeted me as I entered. The mixed society didn't pay attention - a few military guys, some craftsmen or other commoners, a few more colorful features - an amazon woman, an anthropomorphic grey wolf in a brown cloak, with a big sword across his back, a pair of jesters dead drunk in the corner, three rowdy, drunken dwarves.

I walked up to the bar. "I'm not really a believer. I'm here about a business." I placed a coin on the bar, pointing at a beer tap. The bag of coins had been added to my equipment by the General before I

"You don't look like a trader to me." said the barman, filling a wooden mug.

"Neither am I one. I need to talk to some priests."

"And you're not really a believer?" the barman placed the mug in front of me. "That certainly poses a small problem."

"Why?"

"For the path is made of faith, and faith alone", recited the barman "As for the pilgrim the faith is the only soil to stand on, and for the doubtful there is only wind left underfoot." he smirked. "About half of the pilgrims turn back. Half of the rest falls to death. It's certainly a sight to see one walking on the thin air to the temple though. And the priests never leave the temple. Some say that's because they lose their faith inside and are unable to come back."

"So, without faith, I just fall?"

"And you can't even get a messenger to bring a message there. None of these who get there will accept to carry your message, and these who do, will just fall down."

"How do they get food there?" I asked, then took a sip of the beer. The taste surprised me - it was the most delicious beer I'd ever tried in my life. "Great beer", I complimented the barman.

"Divine gift. Their food, not the beer that is. The beer is just Ol'Paul's common. My personal favourite, though some prefer stronger aroma, pine, wormwood, that kind of stuff. The priests are said to by fed by the gods, though they deny. But they give no plausible explaination so that's what people believe."

Yes, I noticed the odd mismatch between the name of the temple and what the bartender just said, but I kept it to myself.

"How do people know then?"

"Oh, some people come back from there and answer questions. Frank Griffin, he was full of it. He went there for love of height, not for faith or such junk. Or the Glassblower. One man of great faith, and as humanly as you and me at the same time. On a second thought, you look just the same as the Glassblower. A really striking similarity."

"Everyone says that. I have no clue what to do about my looks to make people stop saying Glassblower this, Glassblower that. I'm tired of being mixed into somebody else's life like that." I honestly was. It sucks to be someone you don't know.

"Stop wearing a glass armour for a starter maybe. Though in this one nobody would take you for Glassblower, no offense."

"It's comfortable, it serves its purpose... what more could I want?"

"More than a three-note chord to powder it?"

The knowledge clicked in. Every piece of glass has its chord or song of destruction. Play the sound and the piece falls apart. The longer the song, the better the item. The masterpieces would require a whole symphony to break. That's how the Glass Wall fell. There's more to how the chords are born and who can learn them, and how, but the details were still hidden to me.

"Possibly. Maybe some day."

The barman went to refill three dwarves' mugs. I sat for a while, drinking my beer. I felt like being watched. I looked around and saw the big anthro wolf watching me. He saw I saw him, he took his mug and walked up to me, took a stool by me.

"So, the unicorn has found you at last?" he asked quietly, his head low, muzzle hidden in the mug.

"One can say so."

"Did you like the message?"

"No." I replied, not admitting I have no clue what he's talking about.

"Good." he grinned. I didn't like his grin the least bit.

He stood up and headed to the exit. I left my mug and followed him.

As I opened the door, wild blizzard hit my face. It wasn't ten minutes since I entered the inn in perfect weather, and now I could barely see the broad shoulders in dark cloak, and a shape of sword across the back of the stranger. I followed him. He stopped for a moment, then continued. The ground turned from thick snow cover to smooth hard surface, but I was busy not missing the sight of the back in front of me. Sudden, cold realization that there should be no hard, smooth ground surface in such a blizzard forced me to look down. And there was no ground. The snowflakes were whirling around my feet falling down, and nothing was there, no floor, no glass, nothing, but blizzard all around me. I nearly jumped in fear, suddenly standing very still.

I'm walking the thick air...

On the road to the temple of One.

Supported by faith... in what? God? No kidding. Love? Friendship? They are all just lies. Science? Whatever was happening to me now, was all against science. Myself? My own body would have killed me if not the old scapegoat, and my mind was not to be trusted either. Nevertheless, the support under my feet felt hard like rock.

The back of the wolf has vanished in the storm. Who was he? How did he know about the unicorn?

The sudden memory of the beautiful filly, her beauty and purity flashed through my mind, and suddenly I felt the ground growing soft under my feet, like swamp sucking me in. The memory of the swamp, the rotten vegetation, the monsters lurking in the darkness... The treacherous beauty nearly had me killed.

The ground has suddenly solidified under my feet. I took a cautious step, then another, then I went on. And thoughts were humming in my head...

On the road to the temple of... One?

On the road to the temple of... None.

The truth and the lie suddenly became so obvious.

So, why couldn't the priests come back? Did they find faith inside? I chuckled, smelling another small, petty, simple lie piggybacked on top of the big one.

Darker shade of wall of white in front of me soon resolved into a shape of a huge doorway. I entered it, feeling rough stone replacing the weird smoothness under my feet. The storm was dying down. The corridor was growing narrow, till I reached a normal, thick wooden door. There was a guy by the door, and his looks screamed "monk" despite the fact he looked like none of monks on Earth, wearing thick, loose crimson and yellow clothes, that looked six numbers too big on him, tightly fastened with straps to his neck, waist, hands and legs, donuts of collar of the shirt hiding the lower half of his face. I knew - I felt he had some weapon the size of a pitchfork hidden somewhere on him, but for the good of me, I couldn't spot it.

"I see your road has been bumpy, Brother. You've had a crisis of faith, gave in to temptations, but The One has been merciful to you today. A true miracle. May your faith be strong from now on." he said.

"No shit."

"You may enter."

"Huh?"

"Some pass thanks to a temporary crisis of faith, I weed them off, so excuse that little test I..." he paused and looked closer at me, frowning. "Wait a moment... Glasblower? Your vanity will cost you your life some day! There's no shame in using the back door man! Not to us! The front door is just for testing the newcomers! One illusion of mind, one half-forgotten wish and you'd fall to your death! You old fool... It's so good to see you again after all these years." The monk hugged me tightly. I didn't return the hug. He didn't seem to mind.

"Did a big, two-legged wolf come through here a moment ago?" I asked when he released me.

"Are you kidding me? Do you believe one of those could walk the air? That race is so ridden with superstitions that they couldn't possibly dream of entering the temple."

"Yet I followed one and lost him in the blizzard about halfway through the air to here."

"What game are you playing, Glassblower? Is that some test? I swear there was no Verd here, now nor ever."

"We both know the worth of our oaths"

"Not this time, Glassblower. If a Verd got through the road, it would be a bad news indeed."

"Still, I'd be glad to be able to talk to that one. He seems to know things I'd like to know."

"How can I convince you there was none of their race here?"

"You already did. I just ask you not to kill him before I get to question him, if he comes this way."

"...not that I couldn't take care of myself, if he tried." I heard the known voice behind me. "Sorry for being late. Hard to find my way in this blizzard with no landmarks whatsoever. Will we stand here in the doorway, or will you invite me inside, Glassblower?"

"How did you get in here, Verd?", the monk gasped in surprise.

"Oh, quite simply. I don't need to believe in things. I just know them."

"What do you..."

"A nice caveat of the road to the temple, it really lets through those of absolute faith. Normally faith is doubt and hope. Your trap kills those who hope. But once the faith is so strong it equals certainty, there's no more room for hope. Whoops, your lie appeared to be truth."

"So you believe yourself to be of ultimate faith?"

The wolf-man just chuckled. "No."

We watched each other for a moment, and as nobody seemed to be interested in continuing the dispute, I motioned the wolf towards the door. The monk remained at his post. The wolf entered, either not watching his back, sure of his safety, or too good at hiding it for me to notice.

The corridor was short and ended with a long, twisting stairs up, carved in solid rock. My curiosity took the better of me.

"Who are you?"

"My name? Some call me Fern."

"And others?"

"Others don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't call me. To most, I'm just a random Verd. Who needs a name for a Verd?"

"Do I know you?"

"No."

"Let me rephrase that. Did I ever know you?"

"No."

"You're not making it easy."

"Yes."

"Why?"

He pondered for a while, then asked. "Let me ask you a question. Why do you keep asking irrelevant, insignificant questions?"

"Maybe I want to learn the right questions?"

"But you know the questions."

"I..."

"Don't lie. I know you know the questions. I know you're afraid to ask them, not to reveal how much you know. Or don't know, for that matter. I know your questions."

"So answer them."

The wolf suddenly stopped, turned around and sat down on the stone step of the stairs, on a side, as if leaving enough room for me to sit by him. I hesitated for a moment, then accepted.

"First, the insignificant and nagging one. I puzzled you in the tavern. I wanted you to follow. You wouldn't have liked the message had it been delivered."

"The message?"

"The unicorn had the message. She's missing currently, but she'll show up, she always does."

It felt weird. I felt a relief learning the unicorn didn't die.

"As for the message itself", the wolf continued, "You may like it even less when you get it. When the right time comes."

He paused for a moment , then continued before the next question even took shape in my head.

"Piece by piece. There's no way to get all of your memory in one chunk. There's a good forge in the temple. If I were you, I'd try to recall the craft given the opportunity, but that's your choice."

A short pause, barely to catch a breath.

"This one is for you to decide. I can't make this decision for you."

God, I wished I knew WHAT question was that an answer for, but he didn't even leave time for the question to form.

He laughed sharply, his laughter resembling short coughing. "Yes, you still have a chance, if slim. And curiously enough, about the only path doesn't lead through virtue. Not that you stood any chance if it did. Of course you will die shortly after, but you will die happy."

"Really?" - I knew the question. The question about finding happiness.

"Don't try walking the air from now on."

"Damn you, Fern, thanks!" I smiled. "You just did two impossible things right now." He did. He made me believe him, and he gave me hope. "Okay, one more."

"I know answers to all the yes-or-no questions. A gift of obscure origin, long irrelevant story. I got pretty good at getting reasonable answers to open questions through converting them into multiple yes-or-no ones, though it isn't always feasible."

"And why are you helping me?"

"Helping you? Heh, I merely answer your questions. Actually, it seems I just set you on the right track to get you killed."

"So why are you doing what you're doing?"

"'cause I want you dead?"

"Do you never lie?"

"Do you want the truth or the lie?"

I chuckled. I took the bottle of imps from my belt and drank the rest, last fiery sparks flew in the air as I moved it away from my mouth. I threw the bottle at a far wall down the stairs. I heard a quiet whistling from the mouth of the wolf, and the bottle exploded in the air before it reached the wall.

"Nice."

"I can whistle up to four-note chords, and the gift makes finding the notes easy"

"So you could powder this armour?"

"Any time."

"So why don't you kill me now and here? Why all the mystic crap?"

"Wanna know? Promise me you won't kill me, and I'll show you why."

"I promise, during the next five minutes, I won't kill you."

Then in one heartbeat, the wolf drew his sword and swung it at me. Without thinking, my hand shot upward, and a hum came out of my throat, meeting a chord which came from the wolf's mouth, blending with it, changing it, making it useless. The wristband deflected the sword, and the other hand shot forward, hitting the wolf squarely in his chest. The power of the blow sent him flying down the stairs, hitting the low ceiling with his head, then the stairs with his muzzle, finally he stopped with his back against the wall at a turn of the stairs. I knew I could jump at him and smash his chest with a kick, but I didn't. He spat blood and shook his head, his hood fell back, revealing rich, silvery-grey hair with lots of crystal beads braided into it. To his credit, he didn't let go of the sword.

"Now that was faster than expected." he touched the back of his head, then his chin. "And harder." he sheathed his sword. "Does the answer satisfy you?"

"That's a yes-or-no question."

"I appear freaky knowing too much. I try to play being normal sometimes."

"Yes, it does. What happens now?"

"Our ways part for now. They wouldn't be too happy upstairs to know a Verd is roaming the temple freely."

"Tell me, why such a rascism? What's so wrong about Verds that they are unwelcome in the temple?"

"Huh? Wow. I didn't foresee that question. Rascism... Long time since I heard that word. What was the place of your exile like?"

"Rascism was definitely unfashionable there. Exile? I thought it was a boon."

"Don't believe in all you remember, Glassblower." and with these words he was on his way.

I shrugged and went my way, climbing the long, long stairs.

* * * The great central hall was bathed in warm glow of last hour before sunset, deep shades and stripes of rich golden light from tall windows in one wall, gentle bluish cool glow coming from the windows in the other. I adored my work for a moment. Never-ending sunset, the huge candellabre under the ceiling hanging there forgotten, the special glass in the windows creating the magical sunlight, solid rock behind the glass.

How long did I spend here? I knew the place, I knew the locations as soon as I saw their doorways. Living quarters, armory with a forge on the end, dining hall and kitchen, underground gardens... The temple was hidden inside a hollowed out mountain... a hollowed out, levitating, invisible mountain. Yep, cyborg pirate ninjas if you ask me, but it wasn't me who designed and built it. Besides, that was mostly moot, because there were no exits, vents, windows or any other access to the outside of the mountain, with exception of the gate I came through and a transfer stone to a rather far, rather insignificant town locally famous for a rather restrictive order of monks with their small monastery - actually the priests were free to visit the town in disguise. Actually... the priests were free to do whatever they wished and go wherever they wanted as long as they didn't reveal they were from the temple. Officially, the temple had no back door and whoever became a priest, stayed here forever.

I passed by a deep niche with the transfer stone by the end and approached the huge door to the inner sanctum. The door was ajar just enough so that one person could slip in. I did it - like so many times before.

The huge statue of The One sat at the end of the big room - big, but not huge, the banquet hall at "my empire" was bigger than this. It was a statue of a sitting man in a robe, with no face, just blank stone. It was about one floor tall, dominating over the room. The blank stone of the face had a crude painting of a frowny, toothy mouth where mouth would go, and frowning, cartoony eyes. The statue wielded a wooden broom in its hand. Defacing the statue of The One was a running gag of the Temple. Whenever some current events inspired someone, they would change the way the statue looks like, parodying whatever they felt like. Sure none of the priests believed in anything. Doesn't mean they had no humor, just that nothing was sacred. I suspected the current One was an incarnation of some angry apprentice not happy with his janitor duty.

There were a few priests sitting in the rows of benches, some talking quietly, some reading books, a small group playing cards. I walked up to one in the back row.

"Is the Deacon to be found anywhere?"

"Right in the office. Are you... no, you aren't new here. Who are you?"

"Just another pilgrim. Don't pay any attention to me." I smiled to the novice. So refreshing not to be recognized. I turned back and followed to the gardens, where the temple's higher-ups had their rooms.

Artificial glass suns, not as impressive as the windows in the hallway, but brighter, more practical, hung over squares of grass, fruit trees, small plots of vegetables grown by those who liked the work. Why, the Order wasn't all that evil, or rich, or powerful. It was a place for those who knew no point for their lives, to spend time in a mostly friendly atmosphere. We didn't believe in power, in property, in control. Lack of any faith whatsoever makes for quite a nice political system.

I found the Deacon's office. How unusual. What kind of deacon of the Order spends time in his office? I knocked, the invitation was a gentle female voice. I entered.

"Hello, newcomer. Who are you?", she asked. A tall, young woman, long black hair, a rather pretty face, a long robe revealing more than hiding. Now that was a surprise.

"Are you the Deacon?"

"Yes, surprised?" She laughed with a laughter that felt like pearls.

"Quite so. I've been known as The Glassblower in these parts in the past. And who are you?"

"Maria, just a local slut. Nice to meet you, famous Glassblower. If you feel like having sex with me, just wink."

I smiled. "So what about the Deacon?"

"I took up the position once Father Greg died, and there was nobody willing to take the post."

"So you took it?"

"Not exactly willingly. Wasn't my idea, but doesn't hurt."

"And how are you doing on the new spot?"

"I think better than most priests did. I didn't leave my former job, and... oh well, the deacon's room is much more comfortable than my old one. Especially the bed. Want to try?"

"Maybe later." I smiled. The temple slut was always one of the more influential of the "non-member" staff. The temple employed a few common people, a cook, a sweeper doing also the laundry duty, a carpenter to fix whatever was broken, and a slut, kinda like a full-time pay-per-month-not-per-trick whore. And everybody wondered what kind of sucker it takes to take up the position of the deacon voluntarily.

"What business brings you here then?" she asked, seemingly disappointed a bit.

"I need a room. I want to use the forge. And I'd like to meet... what was his name...?"

"Satoru? On Imperial or Rebel business? Which side are you playing now?" She smirked.

"You know, you could become a full-time priest with that attitude."

"I believe in bodily pleasures too much. I love them. Besides, I'm being paid for being a slut. No such benefits for a priest."

"Okay, so...?"

"I can give you a pilgrim room. You'll have to kick apprentices out of the forge yourself. Satoru is... somewhere around. Didn't talk about leaving for longer or anything."

"And if I wanted my old room back?"

"It's taken currently. It wouldn't be nice to kick the novices out"

"Stop beating around the bush"

"Make me cum and you can have the room."

I followed her to her bedrom. She was pretty good.

* * *

I held a glass figurine of a unicorn in my hands. I managed to catch every piece of the mysterious beauty in it. The horn was glass so clear you had to look really hard to see it. There was the green spark on the tip, a training at creating lights in the glass. The mane and the tail felt silky and soft to touch. The body was milky white glass.

"Let me try one more time." the apprenice at the keyboard of the organs asked.

"You know you can't possibly dream of getting the Coda right." I said, still watching my work.

"But I'll get through the Rondo this time." he insisted, "Besides, a concerto piece of work one can fit in a palm, with no life, no purpose, no powers..."

"You were making pieces like these in the beginning too."

"Yes, but five-note chord toys. Not this! I KNOW the song of this piece, so what, it's too difficult for me to play it!"

"But if you succeed, you'll break it."

"No, I will stop, just right before the end."

"Can you?"

He paused for a moment, then shook his head.

"No. But let me play this one time. For the music, not for destruction."

I nodded, and he played. And there was the story of the unicorn in the music. Her escape, her cautious walk and smooth gallop. Then the moment of silence, her freezing motionlessly. Hundreds of whispers. Sparks of the spell...

And then the apprentice stopped.

"I won't try to play the coda. It's better to stop than to spoil it with my poor skills."

I nodded, put the figurine down on the table and went back to the furnace.

The skill was there, one look at the apprentices was enough to recall. The furnace was reading your mind and shaping the glass into whatever you desired. But a single-track mind made a one-note artifact. I'd made a few of these at first, spheres, bottles, shapes, then blown them up, whistling. I tried more advanced shapes, six, eight note chords, phrases of several chords, tricky tunes. I made a set of armor, not a masterpiece by my standards, but better than anything the apprentices had made, and far better than my current one. While making the armour, different hunches, feelings, memories guided me at shaping pieces I didn't know purposes for. I still couldn't recall the shape of my weapon, but I made latches for it on my back, small round pieces where it would stay. I made boxes, latches, gaps in the belt, knowing they are needed, but not knowing what for. The armour was cooling currently. I tried tricky stuff. I made a few pieces of weaponry, purposedly flawed, seemingly well protected, but with an easy, hidden chord that made them explode against whoever would wield them. A small shapeless toy that played a note disrupting its own song of destruction upon it being played. A glass eye which would give sight to whoever lost an eye and put it in the eye socket. I recalled some science programme I had watchedon Earth, and made a laser scalpel, ray of light so strong it cut stone and steel. I made a levitating disc which could be used as a vehicle. When I was confident with my skills, I made a simple long dagger which felt about right as a weapon for now. Then I tried my skill at depth of the art, and made the useless figurine which puzzled all the apprentices. Nobody ever makes things that advanced without a purpose. I could have blown life in the figurine, make it alive, dancing for us and running with the wind, but I didn't. It was just it, a pretty glass sculpture. It made some of the apprentices to think "old fool".

I stood by the furnace and thought of my old tricks... Let me try. A rose.

A glass rose appeared above the surface of the molten glass and floated to the opening. I caught it with tongs and dunk it in a bucket of water.

"It makes them very brittle, Glassblower. Why won't you let it cool off properly?"

"How many notes is it?"

The apprentice looked at the rose for a moment. "Is that a trick question?"

"No."

"It's only three notes, despite the apparent complexity."

I took the rose in my hands and suddenly threw it at a far wall, it hit, petals first. The chord, the explosion, were deafening. The glass stalk fell to the floor by my feet, the piece of the wall where the rose hit was missing, a hole four feet wide and seven feet deep was gaping in the solid rock. Some rock rubble was scattered around. Most of the apprentices were looking around scared, confused, one of them, most conscious of them all, asked:

"Where did the chord come from?"

"Where do you think?"

"The rose. The rose hit the wall and played its own chord of destruction."

"And its own destruction played it even louder. Making it explode harder."

"Mean." "Cool." "Evil." sounded around.

"And quite easy. At least for the three-note chords. The more notes the stronger the explosion. Except when you change the chord it plays, the chord of destruction changes. A four-note rose is a bit of a challenge. I'll bow to the one of you who makes a six-note rose.

"So you can make a five-note rose?"

"I think so. Never tried it out. The effects should be similar to the white string. A six-note rose can destroy a large chunk of the universe ."

Now I have impressed them. So far, they treated me as an old useless guy with some experience and skill they would eventually reach. Nothing talks to the young like large scale explosions.

"You wanted to see me, Glassblower." a monk, robes similar to the one at the entrance greeted me from the door.

"Satoru? Let's go to my quarters." I motioned him to go. I chuckled at the apprentices trying and failing to create two-note roses, some managing a one-note rose which would vanish, turning into dust upon impact, without exploding at all.

* * *

"Forget it. The higher-ups let the legend of the Glassblower as a hero of the rebels to live, because it would ruin the spirits to tell the truth. But they know what happened at the Glass Wall. They will let you form your league. Then they will kill you."

"How do you know?"

"The price doesn't cover revealing my sources."

"Gar-Sen said you're not to be trusted."

"And who is to be trusted around here?"

"You're not delivering what I paid for."

"You've got the contact. You've got the info. You've got a free advice."

"I've got no warranty you'll keep the info to yourself."

"I know better than to cross you."

"Unless you can get me killed first."

"No, no, no man. Look, I have walked the air, like all of us. I have no reasons to risk my skin like that."

"Some of us grow desires over time. Some become greedy."

"Shit. You're about to kill me, aren't you?" fear in his eyes was turning into panic.

"I have asked you a very simple, very precise question. All I want is the answer."

"Will you spare me if I answer?"

"Probably."

"There were survivors."

"At the Glass Wall? How?"

"Your snakes protected them."

"My snakes?"

"Taken from the fallen masters."

"So what did the snakes do?"

"They did what they were supposed to do. Two thousands snakes for two thousands traitors, to guard them."

The memories flooded me. I stumbled and rested against the wall. Queen Lereu comissioning the snakes. Guardians. Protectors. Servants. "There are many who wish to leave the resistance and join our ranks. But the first betrayal is always the most difficult." And so I made the snakes. You couldn't lose your snake. You couldn't destroy your snake. And your snake would kill you if you tried to betray again. They were useful toys, but their ultimate purpose was to bite the traitor if they ever wished to go back.

Even while making the snakes, I was already bitter about my decision, making them mean to whoever would bear them. I made them so perfect that I couldn't get rid of the one I was to bear. And then I had a long talk with Zakasi. Poor, brave General Zakasi, who decided to secretly betray Lereu. I'd follow her if not for the snake. I promised her that if the fate ever throws us against each other, I will step off her way, letting the snake do its duty. And I meant it.

Then there was the Glass Wall... My mind still refused to recall the Glass Wall.

"...so they joined the ranks. But when the battle was over, one regretted it. The snake killed him, but with his dying breath he told the rebels how the wall fell. The rebels believed the traitor. The snake killing him was enough of a proof. But the leader said it will be better to keep it a secret, so they kept it a secret."

I slowly recovered, accepted the explaination. He still didn't say where he knew this from, but I didn't care anymore.

"Go. Leave me."

He left, almost running, slammed the door shut when leaving the room. I sat on the bed, then lay, curled in a ball. I wept. I remembered the face of Zakasi, her voice and her touch. I didn't have her faith, her fire. I didn't believe she would succeed, but I accepted the possibility I might be wrong, and decided it would be a worthy cause to die for. I wasn't in love with her. I just adored her spirit, her valour, her dedication. I found it beautiful, if foolish. And I wanted to believe I'm wrong and she's right, but I couldn't.

And in the end it appeared I was right and she was wrong. She died uselessly in a meaningless battle for insignificant wastelands, and I was alive and up to no good. Once again the world had proven it's a place for evil bastards like me, and not for noble idealists like her. I hated the world for it. I hated myself for it.

* * *

My teeth were clapping from cold, as I was sitting on the toilet, wrapped in a blanket, sweating, writhing from aching stomach and shaking from explosive diarrhea. Heroes of fantasy stories never get sick. Maybe that's because they are the good heroes. Or maybe because the reader is not interested in hearing about the anus burning like on fire from watery greenish spray that explodes down the toilet and all over the ass every minute or so. I could make out dim red sparks down the toilet. It wouldn't be that high of the price for having cancer cured, if not the flu. The night diving in the swamp caught up with me in form of flu to the extreme, nose completely blocked, headache, itching throat, feeling like shit, and fever. The fever was bad. I was shaking, feeling like freezing despite being thickly wrapped in a blanket. But my ass and legs were feeling like exposed to open vacuum, sucking the heat off my body.

Back when I was getting to sleep, I felt my throat slightly sore, blaming it on all the crying. I woke up a few hours later with the illness fully developed. I spent at least three hours on the toilet, with no signs of the diarrhea passing, and the flu getting only worse. Memories, thoughts and images were mixing with the reality, forming senseless, crazy dreams. And currently I was reaching the point where they replace the reality completely.

A dominant woman, simultaneously the Slut/Deacon and Queen Lereu was sitting with me by a table overlooking the banquet hall, full of people from the equestrian club mixed with Lereu's army officers. I was wearing an expensive suit, she had tight latex clothes on. All the others were readying for war, wearing various uniforms from different epoques. Elene rode into the room on Fairy's back. She was wearing a glass armour, a masterpiece of my make, and she held AK-47 in her hand. She bowed to me and Lereu, and Fairy bared her teeth worthy of a sabretooth. Somehow I knew there are three other riders preparing in three other far places, but we were responsible for the incarnation of War.

Elene took a place by us, standing over the two of us, like we were priests and she was the God. Then the door flew open, the tiny figure of Caspian broke in. "I know, who destroyed the Glass Wall!" he shouted and suddenly got blown to pieces. Gar-sen majestically entered the room and bowed to us. "We caught her. Shall I bring her in?"

Lereu/Slut nodded. Three of my trusted stable hands half-dragged half-carried the unicorn inside. The unicorn was struggling, fighting against the ropes, but they were responding with even more violence.

"The gift for you, Glassblower, Sir!" Gar-Sen saluted.

"Do it. Destroy the symbol now", Lereu said.

"I hope you didn't do any of these things to my Fairy?" sounded the girlish, worried voice of Elene from above, behind me. I turned around, took Fairy's muzzle firmly in my hands and kissed her, pushing my tongue between the thick equine lips, till it slid between the spiked teeth, touched the fangs thick like a thumb and met her tongue. And Fairy returned the kiss, in a most lewd way, her tongue playing against mine, sliding in my throat, wiggling like a tongue of a skilled whore.

I broke the kiss and sent a lewd grin to Elene. "I didn't, before, but surely I have to start from now on."

"Not, if I win the war."

"Then I'll invite you for a threesome."

"Deal." she leaned on Fairy's neck and embraced it. There was more than owner's care or friendship in that hug. She wasn't protective. She was jealous.

I turned towards the room and walked from behind the table. The unicorn was bound, prepared for breeding. There was a thick iron ring on her horn, apparently to stop her magic. I walked up to her face, bowed low, held these slim cheeks in my hands, about to kiss her firmly the same way I kissed Fairy.

The unicorn closed her eyes and met my mouth with hers, as if anticipating it, the touch was gentle, subtle, loving. I knew this taste, this scent. It was kiss of Zakasi. We had only allowed us to kiss once. I wasn't physically attracted to her, but it was like a kind of "thank you" for teaching me about her faith.

I held her face gently. It was the face of the unicorn, but the voice of Zakasi. "You were right and I was wrong. You are the king, and I am a prisoner. Do it so that things become like the world meant them to be."

"I can't do this to you. Not to you. I swore."

"We both know the worth of your oaths. Don't delay the inevitable. I will make a good show of struggling. I know how much you enjoy your victims struggling."

I walked around her, and tears were rolling down my cheeks. I unzipped my trousers and pulled my cock out, erect, hard and shining with moisture. I held the rump in front of me and the unicorn struggled, fought against the bonds, tried to break free. I sobbed, then wept while spreading her labia forcibly, then pushing my penis inside. I didn't feel my thrusts, I didn't feel anything sexual. I just knew when I came and it felt as if I died, but remained alive.

Then the unicorn's head fell, her white fur got yellowish, dull, her flanks started showing bones, some fur was falling ff, the skin getting wrinkled. "With virginity, they lose immortality" I recalled. The unicorn collapsed to front knees, the body got limp but the ropes held, still in position, still with my penis inside. The body was getting rapidly cold, then whole fur fell down, revealing sickly livid skin. Black spots appeared in places and began growing, rot and black pus oozing from cracks in the skin. I couldn't move as the black liquid oozed from the dried up vagina around my penis. Then the body broke in half, pouring thousands of maggots on the floor. I felt the maggots wiggling around my penis. I screamed.

I was still sitting on the toilet, now totally shaking from cold. It seemed like the diarrhea stopped. I wiped and washed myself, then limped to bed.

* * *

I found a healer in the morning. Two potions later I was back to normal health. It felt so wrong, flu gone before you finish drinking from a flask.

Later I visited the forge, made a couple of three-note roses and a four-note one. Now I was standing on the transfer stone, holding the four-note rose in my hands. I thought of the monastery and released my grip on the glass flower.

I was standing in the heat of the day, in the middle of the monastery, mostly empty as usually. I walked towards the town. I felt nothing after my former friends. None of us believed in friendship anyway, and everyone felt it will end sooner or later. It just wasn't sure who will end it, and how. Oh well, their death was quick and painless, a flash of explosion in the sealed space inside of the mountain, the only exit sealed by a few explosions of smaller roses. There were a few priests left outside the temple, but they would use the transfer stone to nonexistent destination, erasing themselves from the existence.

Oh well, I felt something. Some childish joy. It was the part of a kid in me, the one that loves huge explosions and mass destruction. I didn't care for the lives though. Satoru had to die. Whomever he had told about me, they had to die. Many of the priests would know.

Short way later I reached a group of public transfer stones outside the city. As I was stepping on one, I thought "what if the stone on the other end has been destroyed?" Then I dismissed the thought. Transfer stones were a taboo. Nobody, Empire, the rebels, saboteurs, bandits, murderers, nobody would destroy a transfer stone. It was an unwritten law. I grinned as I realized I'm thinking of myself as above that law.

Then, instead of the village in the wastelands, the contact I got from Satoru, I landed in a dark, cold and damp place, dead end of a rocky dungeon-like corridor. There was a low, arched wooden door on the other end. I approached the light seeping from cracks around the door, then opened it cautiously.

The room was... huge? Limitless? There was an oil lamp, burning brightly, just by the door. The door was in a wall. But there were no other walls, just darkness with no hint of an end. And hints of various statues scattered in the distance, some so big that they would vanish in the darkness. One huge sphere, its top invisible far above me, vanishing in the darkness... then another one next to the first one, just as big, maybe even bigger... and suddenly the sight, the patterns on the spheres made more sense. These were toes. Toes of a statue, so tall I couldn't see tops of its toes because they were too far.

There was an old man sitting on top of a block of stone about the size of a whale (and tiny by comparison to the rest), brushing the rock surface gently with his hands as if seeking something inside.

"Welcome, Glassblower. I thought we have agreed not to destroy each others' works." his voice resembled rusty hinges. He wore just some dirty rags - a loincloth, bandages wrapped around ankles and wrists, a headband of dirty cloth. He was covered in whitish dust.

"I'm sorry, but my memory fails me. If I remembered such an agreement, I'd certainly obey it. I wish I even remembered who you are." I didn't but I was quite sure he was powerful. Possibly more powerful than me.

"How foolish on your side to engage in the affairs of the mortals. You let the emotions carry you. You forget the craft. You risk your immortality. You chase shadows. And now look at yourself, you lost your memory."

"So who are you?"

"The Stonemason. Rings a bell? Come, have a drink. I'll try to refresh your memory." he jumped skilfully from the block of stone and walked to the wall, took the lamp from the hook and walked along the wall. I followed him. There was another door he entered. It was a small, dusty room, with a simple bed, a table with three chairs out of which only one seemed to be in use, a small hearth with a kettle hanging over the fire, a shelf with some jugs, jars and cups, and another, by the bed, with several books on it. The man took two cups, put some herbs from one of the jars in them, poured some thick, golden liquid from one of the jugs, then filled the cups with water from the kettle. I was pretty sure things were just for appearances, the fire always burning, the kettle always full of hot water, the jug and jar always full of whatever he took from them.

He handed the cup to me, took a sip from his own. "The only addiction from the world of mortals I allow myself. Real, good tea." I inhaled the scent of the drink and it smelled really good. I drank some and it was delicious. "Delicious drink" I commented.

"When you jump into the world of mortals, you try to grab too many things. You lose track of quality, you lose mastery. You keep getting substitutes, cheap knock-offs. Concentrate on two, maybe three things from the world of mortals and you'll keep the mastery. Try to grab a hundred and you become a jack of all trades."

"So what things do you master?"

"One craft above all, my stonemasonry, one art of fighting, the way of the fist, one skill of pleasure, teamaking, and one leisure hobby, reading. I know nothing more, but I'm a master at what I know."

"I don't think I could just abandon it all. I don't find happiness in my craft. I don't enjoy anything I do. I seek."

"And you run from your past, collateral damage be damned."

"I'm really sorry about your stone. I should have picked another way."

"But you've picked this one and you'll follow it to the end just as the agreement said."

"What did it say?"

"That you'll have to find your way out of there as any mortal would. Not that I could help you out of there even if I wanted."

"Any advice? Any help?"

"You need none. A mortal would die. You will survive."

"But...?"

"But you will think twice before breaking any of my craft again." he nodded friendly to me and we fell silent for a while, sipping our tea.

"How old are we?" I asked.

"You're nearing sixty, I'm eighty-nine."

"So why do you say we're immortal?"

He laughed. "I thought you meant the age of these bodies."

"These bodies seem quite mortal."

"And they are. We are reborn everytime they die. What makes us immortal is our souls and memories. The memory of our craft. Lose the memory and you lose the immortality."

"And how old are we really?"

"About as old as the universes. The Bookkeeper should know exactly, but don't ask me for his location."

"And how many of us are there?"

"Way fewer than when we started off. Me, you, the Bookkeeper, the Carpenter and the Gardener, the Weaver, the Sailmaker, the Horse Whisperer and the Programmer."

He stumped me with the last two and I didn't know which to ask about first. Finally I picked the "less important, more nagging" one. "Programmer?"

"Yes. Why?"

"All these crafts..." I began, but he interrupted me.

"Crafts exist beyond time. When there are no computers, the programmer teaches ants how to build anthills. When the computers are the past, he programs the societies. And since the Farmer got lost, the Programmer seems more and more skilled at creating new forms of life."

"And the Horse Whisperer? What the horse whisperers could do back where I lived, was quite impressive. I don't really see how one could get much better than that."

"Could they tell horses to grow wings and rise into the sky?"

"Oh, no, they weren't that good."

"Could they tell horses to grow scales and breathe fire?"

"And the horses obey?"

"Usually they do. Sometimes they are reluctant, but he can convince them there's nothing to fear."

"Can he tell a horse to grow a horn and become a unicorn?"

"A unicorn? Sorry. You can't create more magic from less magic. He can whisper to unicorns and he understands them, but they don't really obey him, or even respect him for that matter."

"They? How many unicorns are there?"

"One for every single universe, no more, no less."

"And if a unicorn of a given universe dies?"

"So does the universe."

We fell silent for a while. I watched the surface of tea in my cup, it looked like liquid gold, reflecting the room with a golden mirror surface.

"Is that what Lereu does to the worlds she conquers?"

"If she can find the unicorn, yes. But she knows other ways of destroying universes."

"Why?"

"Recruit an army, destroy all the resistance. Threat of being left behind on a dying world is enough to grant obedience. Then move to another universe, conquer it, make the army stronger, repeat."

"Is she immortal too?"

"Only the way elves are. Or unicorns for that matter. Killed once, dead forever."

"Why did I follow her?"

"I hoped you could tell me that."

"Could it be that I wanted to forget my past?"

"I doubt so. There are easier ways."

"Maybe they didn't work?"

"So, what is your third wish, Master?, said the genie. Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here?, the confused human kept asking. Is it your wish to remember it all?, asked the genie. Yes, I want my memory back above all, said the man. So be it, answered the genie, how funny, your first wish was exactly the same."

"Is that a threat?"

"Not sure. I just recalled this puzzle from one of the Programmer's better pieces of work. Honestly, I don't know if it applies."

I drank the rest of my tea, he finished his cup slowly.

"Thank you for your help, Stonemason. It's time for me to go." I stood up from the table and headed to the exit.

There was a Scout waiting outside. The beast covered with fiery markings, even more menacing than the one I'd met in the swamps turned its head to me.

"DO YOU WANT TO PASS?", it asked in the language of roars amd growls.

"Yes, I do." I answered.

* * *

I recognized the place. I knew the place. I built the place. It was the main event hall of the sports stadium in my equestrian empire. It was dark and silent. Wind was howling in the metal construction of the roof. The lights were off.

I wondered what would they say seeing me in my glass armour. I headed to the exit, a well-known route. I passed by someone dozing in a chair near the barriers surrounding the arena, then followed through a corridor.

The arena was lit by the stars through windows near the roof. The corridor was entirely dark save of a dimly glowing "emergency exit" sign in the distance. The air was full of a strange scent. It was a bit like dried meat. I tripped on something big and soft, and fell over it. Nothing happened, the sand on the floor was soft. I turned and touched my obstacle. I felt fur. I dropped the face plate and rubbed the side of the helmet, pulling brightness of the visor way up.

It was a horse, lying dead across the corridor. It had the saddle and the bridle on. It was cold and the skin felt dry and hard to the touch. The rider was lying nearby, the face dried like on a mummy. I stood up and turned to the far door, went nearly running.

I reached the door, attacked it with my shoulder, not even considering struggling with the lock, and fell outside as the door broke. I lay, gasping, looking around.

The world was dark, not a single electric light running. The grass was unnaturally bright. I crawled up through the sand to the nearest patch of grass reaching from the nearby paddock across the sandy road. It was totally dry and dead. There were some trees in the distance, no leaves on them, despite the air being warm, the night being a hot summer night.

I headed towards the main road. I could see dark shapes on the pavement. People. Dead people. I walked along the road keeping the distance from the corpses. I passed by the dark windows of shops and offices. There was the Lucky Horseshoe, my favourite pub of the old days. I hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door and entered.

There were two corpses by the tables, the pub was otherwise empty. I walked up to the bar. The body of the barman was there, on the floor. I reached to the shelf and grabbed a bottle of brandy from its usual place. I moved one of the chairs, opened the bottle and took a good drink.

I sat in the silence, in the darkness. Nothing but wind...

I lifted my face plate and drank.

I kept drinking but I just couldn't get drunk.

Two crude, simple electronic beeps broke the silence.

I stood up and checked the wrist of one of the dead patrons. An electronic watch. I pressed the light button, checked the date.

First night in the camp, another at the temple, it wasnt full two days since the party at the conference hall. But here, nearly a month passed while I was gone. I walked up to the bar and peered at a wall calendar. The frame outlined the day of our celebration.

Why didn't the bodies rot?

Because rotting is a process involving microorganisms decomposing the body.

Everything was dead. Everything. Not a single living cell remained alive.

Dead universe.

Everything I'd known was dead. And there was only one thing I could think of. I hoped Fern was right. God how I hoped he was right. "The unicorn is missing currently, but she'll show up. She always does." If the universe was dead...

Then phrases of ancient knowledge appeared in my mind and cold sweat covered me.

The unicorn is the life force of a universe.

If there is no unicorn in the universe, there is no life.

I chased the unicorn away. She ran from me, and she escaped into a different universe.

"BE DAMNED FERN!!!" I cried out.

I threw the bottle at a far wall, then stormed outside.

The alcohol caught up with me suddenly.

I fell, curled up. A wave of nausea hit, emptying my stomach in several heavy spasms. Then it hit again. And again. My stomach was empty but the shock kept clutching it. I lay there, numb, staring at the sky. The armour kept me comfortably warm. Billions of stars. If there ever was life on any of them, there's none now. Hours passed and the blissful numbness of my body was gone, hangover was catching up, the feeling of the aching body and the memory of the dead world returned.

I stood up, opened the front part of the greaves, empted my bladder seeing the stream flow down the road, vanishing under some corpse by the curb. I reattached the plate of greaves and stumbled along the road, then turned around a corner, reached the buildings of the sports stable. I entered the main building, walked along the stalls. Star of East, Bison, Blind Luck, Vincento... I was recalling the names of the horses, seeing them lying dead on the straw. Martinique, Sara and her foal, Faust, Lincoln, Vagabond. I was riding Vagabond in the polo league. He was so patient and obedient. Ramona, Albion, Maverick, Fairy. I stopped by Fairy's stall. I unlocked the latch and entered the stall. I approached the dark shape, knelt on the straw, touched the dry, hard, cold skin. The nose still felt silky.

I fell on the floor and cried, still touching the silky nose with my hand. I cried till I fell asleep, on the straw, by the horse I have killed, in a universe I have killed.

* * *

Dry grass, dead trees, clouds of dry leaves and dust carried by the wind, I had to lower the face plate of my helmet to protect my eyes. I also recalled the wristband.

"Congratulationssss. Outssssstanding work!"

"I wonder how I got rid of my old snake."

"I'd poissson you if you tried."

"Bite me."

I reached the gateway of my private stable. The remains of the door still lay around as a sparkling dust.

"Find the track of this dust."

I walked the same way I went that night. The snake was helpful. And the road - seemingly still well within my district, led me to a place I'd never seen. I had taken a turn from a known road, the access road to a sewage station. There was a path to an old tree in the fields by the road, then it led into a line of bushes. I had never taken it before, because it was simply longer than all the alternate routes, but I used to cross the same line of bushes no more than two hundred yards from the tree, to buy smokes at a gas station by a main exit road just on the other side, whenever I'd run out of them, back before I gave up smoking.

But this path didn't lead to the same main exit road. It led me through a long tunnel of really thick bushes and I recognized the place where I had "cornered" the unicorn. It was a border, and behind that border the bushes were green.

The air past the border smelled differently too.

Short way further down, the path opened on a strip of gardens and the first line of old, pretty 19th century houses, two and three floors high, steep red roofs, countless chimneys, planks painted various pastel colors, roses on the lawns, sometimes ivy climbing up to the roof. The path led through a narrow passage between them to a paved street, crossing it and continuing in a passage between houses on the other side. There was a small square by the street a short way from the path.

I stood at a corner of the square, just a span of the street three houses long that was twice as wide as elsewhere.

"Hello, Dave. So you got here too?"

I turned to the known voice. Elene still wore the equestrian outfit and the four gold medals on her neck. She was smiling peacefully.

"So you survived? How did you find the way?"

Her face paled a little, the smile vanished.

"No, I did not survive. Did you?"

"What do you mean you did not survive?"

"This is a purgatory. Almost all of us got here after we died. How did you survive? And what are those clothes? And if you survived, why are you here?"

"I... I escaped. Somehow. It's hard to explain."

"Lucky as always."

"It doesn't look half bad here."

"It's not better than Earth, that's for sure. I't's acceptable though. Worst of all is how I miss Fairy."

"She certainly went straight to heaven."

"No, she didn't. Animals don't have souls, didn't you know that?"

"I'd say the same of humans if I didn't see you now and here."

"Always incorrigibly atheistic, even in the purgatory."

"I certainly don't believe in purgatory. Whatever this place is, I don't believe in purgatory."

"So what is this place, where when we die, we wake up the next morning, except of those who did something especially good or bad, these don't wake up."

"I don't believe in a purgatory located ten minutes of walk from my house."

"It's a separate world, hundreds of miles of land!

"This place is really a short way from our old place. The passage is maybe two hundred yards from the sewage station in the north of the district."

"Can we go back?"

"There's nowhere to go. All is dead."

"Still, I'd rather haunt old Earth than await my fate here."

"As you wish. I came from there." I pointed at the path between the houses. "No idea if this is a bidirectional passage but you can try."

She ran there. Though "ran" is not quite the word. Her movement was more of her vanishing in one place and appearing in another, more of willing to be elsewhere than physical movement.

Then I was left alone.

Not really.

Many people were passing by. I just didn't notice them before.

When I saw Elene first, she was real, substantial, a live person. Later as we talked she was losing focus, clarity - she was like a creation of a shallow dream, you're aware of the presence, you know the identity, you understand the meaning of what the person says, but you don't see details, you don't hear the voice. And just like in a dream, I wasn't noticing her losing substance, her impression, my awareness of her presence felt perfectly enough. Only when she was gone I realized how little of her was there, just a shadow, impression. A ghost.

And now I noticed other ghosts, lots of them. The street was crowded. The ghosts were walking in both directions, some strolling lazily, some hurrying somewhere, very few paying any attention to me. The movement wasn't fluent, nothing like walking. More like you took every hundredth frame of a movie and used a blending filter to fill the gaps - vanishing in one place to reappear a couple of steps further. All of them were blurred and unreal, mere impressions of persons.

And then suddenly, just in front of me, one of them took shape. I recognized Satoru.

"Interesting meeting. I'd say you lucked out but somehow I'm sure it was your doing."

"Oh, no! What happened?"

"Don't lie to me, Glassblower. One day I'm telling you uncomfortable stuff, and another the whole temple goes to hell. I don't believe in such accidents."

"We don't believe in anything."

"Oh, I didn't believe in afterworld. You die, you vanish, right? And now I'm here. Believe in ghosts, Glassblower. Believe in heaven and hell. They exist."

"And this is?"

"A purgatory. Imagine this, a place where you stay until it is decided whether you go to heaven or hell. As if your life wasn't enough. What a ridiculous idea. I'd laugh if I heard it while alive and didn't know it's real. And it seems very few don't get in here. Only real saints and worst bastards." he smirked "You might be spared the visit to Purgatory, but I wouldn't be entirely sure."

"Is Zakasi here? Can I meet her?"

"I don't think so. It's a big place. And if I were you, I'd wouldn't stay here. I'd run now. Not everyone here would be as forgiving as me. Many hold a major grudge against you."

"Can they harm me?"

"Bodily, no. But they can... some of them can replace your mind with a can of worms."

Only now I noticed Satoru is just a ghost again. I didn't hear him anymore, I just felt what he meant to say.

"Are there any non-humans here?"

"No. Just humans. Some say only humans have souls."

"In my humble opinion, bullshit."

"I agree. But I have no better explaina..."

...and suddenly Satoru wasn't there anymore.

And I saw the crowd again, but this time it ran in one direction, panically running from something further up the street.

I saw the knights.

Two of them. Twice as tall as other people. In shiny silvery armours, tall, handsome and impressive. Wielding long swords as long as most people are tall, and golden half-transparent shields. I recognized the shields. I had made them.

The street was almost empty, but few ghosts stayed. Waiting there serenely or trying to fight. The knights would cut them all down and the ghosts would vanish, dissolving in the air.

And I realized there's more to the place than ghosts, including ones that didn't like me. There were dangers. Dangers that would kill ghosts so that they wake up alive next day. Dangers that would encourage acts of heroism, sacrificing yourself in defense of those you value, and acts of cowardice and betrayal, sacrificing others for your own safety.

Zakasi... if Zakasi was here, the quest would be much harder and much more dangerous than I had thought. And if they killed me, I wouldn't awake in a bed next morning. Oh well, maybe I would...

And even if I found her, what could I do? What would I do? Ask her to follow? Where to? The lands under rule of Lereu, or dead Earth, or...

I could dwell on alternate universes, but the knights got closer. They got quite close to the passage between the houses, my path. If I ran for it, I could make it. Or not. I decided to play it safe. I just turned up the stairs to a nearest house, opened the door and entered.

The house seemed abandonned, dust on the floors, white sheets on the furniture. I walked up to the window and watched. The knights were approaching. Some soul stood on the street motionlessly. A child, sad and lonely, seeming lost. A swing of the sword, and unlike with all the others, it was messy. The body fell nearly cut in half, blood splattered around, the eyes wide open in surprise stared up, empty.

One of the knights stopped, knelt and touched the head, closed the eyelids gently, caressed the golden hair. Then he stood up and they both resumed their walk.

I felt a presence. I turned around and there was... a ghost... Just darkness. Just a pair of glowing eyes. A hand of darkness with fingers like tentacles reaching for me.

The door was too far. I jerked backwards at the window, smashed into the wood and glass with all my weight, it gave way and I fell down on the street, on a pretty white fence surrounding a strip of grass along the house.

The fall left me breathless despite of the armour taking most of the shock. The shadow in front of me retreated from the daylight. I tried to get my breath back, drawing air into my lungs in short, rapid gasps. As I got the first full breath into my lungs, I realized I had drawn some very unwanted attention. Both knights at first stared at me, now they were running at full speed, their intentions quite apparent. I ran for the passage between the houses, pulling the snake from my wristband. "Tell me the trail!" I shouted. The knights entered the narrow passage behind me. "Left!" "Now right!" the snake guided me through narrow alleys between the backs of the houses, across a street, into some park. I was still in the ghost world and while the narrow alleys slowed the knights down a little, now they chased me at full speed.

A hole in the fence of the park led me into some backyard of a high, ugly, ruined concrete house and the snake told me to enter the back door into the corridor. I did so even though I was sure the route was wrong. There was no hole in a fence and definitely no corridor when I followed the unicorn. And no walking down the stairs to the cellar. The fence hardly slowed the knights, but the corridor did, and the narrow stairs appeared unpassable. The chase stopped, but my current location... I didn't like it the least bit. Not in this world.

"What game are you playing, snake? Did you lose the trail?"

"The trail leadsss here. Ssssilver dusssst sssstill hanging in the air."

I reached for my dagger and lit the blade, sharp blue lihgt filling the space. I could make it weaker and softer but right now I wanted lots of light.

"The dust should lay undisturbed for weeks by now."

"Hoursss at mossst. Likely minutessss"

I shrugged. "Guide me." The exit was blocked anyway.

I felt shadows running from the light, hiding beyond the sphere of light. The corridors turned into a maze of natural and artificial caverns, a corridor of a mine with various mining equipment scattered, a big old sewer with a wide walkway, a huge hall with numerous white colummns. There were many exits, the snake guided me to one of them. I expected to find the corpse of whoever we followed really soon. Instead, I found corpses of kobolds scattered on another crossroads. The bodies still bled, the cuts were clean and professional. The sight gave me some hope. Wild kobolds, these I could live with. I followed another three corridors or so.

"The trail endsss here, there'sss more dussst."

I slowed down and kept my dagger ready. A hooded figure stepped from behind the corner. I saw the silver muzzle.

"You can lower your dagger, Glassblower. Whenever I meet you, I think I bit more than I can swallow, despite what my oracle says."

"What are you doing here, Fern?"

"Looking for the unicorn. I'm worried sick about her. She hadn't been missing that long ever before."

"You missed the path. Somewhere in the ghost world."

"You mean the purgatory? I left the path as soon as I saw it's not the unicorn I'm looking for."

"What?"

"Later. It's not safe here. The exit is near, and a camping place a short way further."

He led me down two more short cavern-like corridors and we went outside into the night in an old forest, ancient, green oak trees above us, a mild slope of a hill and a few rocks with the cavern entrance behind us. Fern breathed deeply.

"Home at last. Forests of Eastern Tir. Land of Verds, Noox, Tiburs, Prads and other `beast races' as you humans call us, no rascism intended." he grinned. "Come" he led me a short way down the hill to an opening between the trees, several stones forming a circle. He dragged a big dry branch into the clearing, then poured a few drops of some potion on each of the stones around the glade. The activity tingled "Invoking sanctuary" in my head.

He asked me for help with the branch, cutting it into sticks for a campfire. I did, breaking the thinner ones, chopping the thicker ones with my dagger. He began talking as we worked.

"Things are not going according to the plan and I had asked wrong questions. You didn't meet her. I don't know how you got your hands on the unicorn of your world of exile, and it's none of my business why you decided and how you managed to chase her away and kill the whole universe, but you didn't meet the unicorn we had sent to you. You certainly did meet a unicorn and that was the source of confusion."

"Wouldn't sending a unicorn to a different world..."

"Not if it's already dead. This is not her world. And I certainly wouldn't send the unicorn of this world to a servant of the Queen." Fern stacked some sticks and lit them, not sure how.

"Why won't you ask your oracle about the unicorn?" I asked, sitting by the fire

He sat next to me and smirked. "I wish it was that easy. I know all of the fate. But unicorns are beyond fate. I can't tell anything about what will a unicorn do, or where will events go if a unicorn enters. I can only follow conditionals, "assuming the unicorn does X, how will Y be affected?" but all I know about the unicorn doing X is that if I ask her nicely, she may do it for me."

"The fate of this world is doom, but you hope to change it?"

"Yes, more or less. This or others. Or we did. If the unicorn is gone, there is no hope."

"Why does the unicorn help you?"

"You know the answer to this one."

"Do I?"

"You feel like a unicorn now."

"Do I?"

"You killed a universe. Don't tell me you have no conscience at all."

"She does that to prevent killing another universe?"

"Yes."

"Damn, Fern, you nearly did another impossible thing. If not that small obstacle..." I pointed at my wrist.

"...you'd join our cause?"

"I wish I knew how I got rid of the first one."

"So do I, but the research could take years. We don't have that much time." he threw some sticks into the fire, then prodded it with another stick for a while.

"Sorry."

"Hand me your snake."

"Why? You know it will kill you if you try anything."

"Trust me."

I took the snake from around my wrist and handed it to Fern. I knew pretty well any trickery would be futile. The snake was fast. Much faster than any of us.

"If you find her, be good to her. Take good care of her. Promise me."

"You know the worth of my promises."

"Yes." he smirked. "I know."

"Then I promise. If only possible, I will. What are you planning?"

"A gambit. Sacrifice a weaker figure to advance a stronger one."

He sniffed the snake. Realization flashed in my mind.

I shouted "NO!" but it was too late.

Fern's jaws clutched on the snake's body. Two points of blood shone on his chin as the snake writhed in his jaws, its teeth glistening with blood and poison, then the head fell to one side of his mouth, the tail to the other. Fern's mouth was firmly shut but some foam appeared in the corners, then his whole lips covered with foam. I reached out and held him, feeling his body getting stiff, rock-hard in my arms. The foam got a red shade, drops of blood leaked from his nose and eyes, then his whole skin began bleeding, the silver fur turning red.

His body went limp and I lay him gently on the grass.

Poor fool. Why did he trust me?

Maybe because I really meant what I said?

* * *

I dug a shallow grave for him in the sand under an oak and left his sword as his tombstone. It was a matter of respect. Of self-respect.

Down the hill I found a stream, the stream led me to a river, the river led me to a village. A transfer stone brought me to Ipsa, a town in the wastelands, country of dust and rust. Dry red sand mixed with forests of junk, nondescript metal formations, some like ribs of skeltons, some like random stacks of beams, some forming other structures without order or sense. Huddled against a clam-like half-mile tall and mile long iron shell, lay the helhole of outcasts and misfits. And rebels.

I'd never been here. I knew it. I found the house, actually a shed of metal sheets and junk. An old, ugly, dirty woman invited me inside. The smell of dirty body and rust was especially unpleasant. She invited me to sit at a table - a thick metal slab supported by two sawhorses and looking dangerously heavy and unstable. A young, strong and handsome if rather dirty man walked from behind a curtain of thin chains. He bowed to me.

"What would a nobleman want from us, poor commoners?"

"I seek help from the rebels."

"Rebels? What would we have in common with that?"

"You have something that belongs to me."

"Whatever it is what we have, if you say it's yours, it's yours, sir."

"My weapon."

"We posess no weapons, sir. Nothing except our kitchen knife."

"A pipe. A rather simple metal pipe. It's mine."

"There are many pipes..." the woman began, but the boy hushed her, a gleam of understanding in his eyes. "I'm yours to order, sir. Your weapon is hidden nearby. Shall I bring it?"

"Take me there."

He nodded and led me outside the town, past crude city walls built of various junk. He led me along the wall for a moment, then reached into it, between some pieces of metal and pulled a long, rather thick, very rusty pipe. Obviously not my weapon, just a random pipe. "It's inside" he explained before I could express my surprise. Both sides were sealed with metal caps and some waxy substance. He removed one of the caps and pulled a long item wrapped in cloth from inside. He unwrapped the cloth and the weapon was there. He handed it to me.

It felt so familiar in my hands. Just a pipe, seemingly of steel, two yards long, with a mouth piece on one end. A glassblower's pipe. There were some holes near the mouthpiece, I put my fingers on them, my mouth on the mouthpiece, and I played a melody. The first notes of a song that destroyed the Glass Wall. It was a magnificent, beautiful melody. And it carried the story of the death of heroes.

League of Saints.

Led by a corrupted one.

Led to its doom.

The boy handed me a tiny cloth sack. I stopped playing and opened it. Shards. Glass needles. I put one in the pipe, aimed at some high rusty structure far away and blew. The structure exploded, scattering its pieces around. The shards were simple versions of the roses, with the energy stored in them at creation time, not created by destruction.There were many kinds of shards, explosive, piercing, poisonous, shards of sleep and shards of illness. There was a box for the shards at my belt, I didn't remember what it was for when making it, but now filling it felt almost instinctive.

I lit the end of the pipe, eerie bright blue light. I dug it in the sand. I blew at the mouthpiece gently and lifted the tip, holding a sphere of glass.

I gently played notes on the pipe, still blowing and slowly turning it, and the sphere shone with would-be stars, solidified into a tiny universe. I moved the tip near and looked at the sphere.

It was a universe. A young, newly-born universe, not an image of one, not a model, not a toy. It was a real universe like the one we live in. It was seriously flawed in many ways, it wouldn't exist for long and nothing spectacular would ever come of it, because I didn't pay any special attention while creating it. But still... it was a universe.

I whistled a couple of notes and it exploded. Universes cannot exist within other universes. It had to be destroyed before it would mature enough to conflict, to influence the outside. Before...

...before a new unicorn would be born?

If universes cannot be created within another universe, then where?

I knew there was such a place, but I still didn't recall where.

One thing I recalled was the purpose of yet another box at my belt. I gathered some sand and poured it in there.

You need a handful of sand, of dust, of dirt to create a universe. And there's no sand where you create them.

So I could create universes using my pipe. Yet I kept referring to it as "my weapon"...

If I could create a universe... it could create an army... for me... I knew I could. But I also knew there was some bad caveat. I just didn't know the details.

Oh well, I could still bludgeon my enemies with the pipe. I knew I was more than good at it. And the pipe wouldn't break or bend. It was a work of one of us, the Blacksmith. He met a mortal woman and he forgot about his immortality.

I shook my head and clipped the pipe to my back, there were latches that matched perfectly.

"Sir?" the boy asked, impressed by the show and still full of respect.

"What's your name?"

"Zarius, sir."

"Call me Dave."

"Sir?"

"Dave."

"Dave?"

"Call some of your friends. We need to meet. If any of the higher-ups wants to come, they are free to come but don't waste extra time for them. I'll need some young people eager to help. What is your usual meeting place?"

"On top of the clam. It's nearly impossible to get there without knowing the way."

"I'll wait for you there."

* * *

The sight was breathtaking - I saw the borders of the wastelands, mountains and forests lit by the Sun setting behind my back. Eastern Tir. Fern lay somewhere there. "Sacrificing a weaker figure to advance a stronger one"... I wouldn't call a figure with his ability weak. Or maybe I underestimated myself? Maybe I didn't use all of my potential? If I didn't, what skills did I forget about? I sat there, planning and hesitating. I still hadn't decided whether to keep following Lereu. Luckily the decision could be delayed for now. Both paths coincided for a time. My order was to build a new league. That was what I intended to do. And this time I intended to use a little more truth than I usually do.

There were six of them. All young, all eager to change their fate, to break free from the wastelands even for price of their life.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I couldn't find more on such a short notice."

"Dave. Sit down please."

They took their places around.

"Tell me, Zarius, how did my weapon end up here?"

"An officer brought it to the local council, telling us to find a good hidimg spot for it. Things are mostly impossible to find here if you don't know what to look for."

"I meant, how did I lose it?"

"Is this some test, Sir...Dave?"

"No. Not really. There's truth, and there's the common knowledge. People know stories, and the real stories lay forgotten. I know how I lost it. I want to hear what people say about it."

"You didn't lose it. You left it for safekeeping. You said it zwould be too dangerous in Lereu's hands in case you fail. Then you went on a mission. Nobody knows the details. Some say you died. Some say you escaped into a place of exile and you'd return when you were ready. Some... please forgive me, this is ridiculous, but some believe you betrayed us and joined Lereu."

"That was before the League of Saints."

"Were you there? In body and flesh?"

"And what do they say about that?"

"The main story says you created the league and fought with them, then died when the Wall fell. They say your heart broke together with the Wall. Some say destruction of the Wall killed you, other say the Wall fell as you died. Then, when we ask for the pipe and the mission, interpretations come that you were there only with your spirit, that you helped from beyond the grave and such. Huge gap in the logic as for me. What is the truth?"

"The truth is that I died more than once. Much more." I almost didn't lie.

"So... you're a kind of immortal?"

"Kind of. Not entirely, but it's harder to keep me dead than most of the others."

"Why didn't the leaders tell?"

"Maybe they didn't know? I learned of this quite recently myself."

"But if you're immortal..."

"But if I die so often..."

"You mean you forget?"

"Sometimes more, sometimes less."

"And the stories are full of lies..."

"Don't judge them so harshly. They are the best most of people know."

"So you died as the wall fell? Or did your death make the wall to fall?"

"Neither. Before I answer, all of you, take off your shirts, whatever you keep on the upper body. I must make sure there's no spy amongst us."

I didn't really need them to. I could see a copper wrist-band on one of the boys' wrist. But I wanted to make a show out of it. They obeyed, removing the rags.

"The wristband too."

The boy hesitated. "It's a memento of my father. I never remove it."

"Just show us that you hide nothing underneath."

"Why would I..."

He looked at the tip of my pipe piercing his chest, more surprise in his look than pain. Blood flowed from his mouth. Two quick moves and I had his wrist under my boot, holding his snake with the tip of my pipe.

"Watch closely. This is a traitor's snake. A mark of Lereu's protection and alegnance. Creature of malice and evil."

"Glasssss..." the snake began, and I stomped on its head, smashing it.

"So Toby was a..." whispers sounded in the circle.

I pushed the body, it began rolling down the steep surface of the shell at increasing speed.

"Don't try to kill a snake on a live traitor. They draw enough power from their masters to kill you in a blink of an eye. And they are nearly impossible to get rid of. Once you take one upon you, you're with Lereu for good and bad, and if you cross her, the snake kills you."

"How do you know so much about them?"

"I didn't die at the Wall. I was taken a prisoner. Then I was offered a choice... permanent death or the snake."

"So you really betrayed?"

"Yes and no." I exposed my wrists, removed the wristbands. "I was building a resistance within Lereu's lines."

"They say you bowed to General Zakasi."

"What do they say of her?"

"Stories of untold cruelty. Oh, and valour. The imperials always praise her valour." he spat.

"So Lereu got a sniff of Zakasi's plot and sent her to a hopeless battle. Zakasi never got to clean her name."

"The miracle at the Fields of Ice... so it wasn't a miracle after all..."

"Tell me that story."

"Didn't you fight there?"

"At that time I was dead to this world."

"The overwhelming forces of the enemy, only a small unit on our side. Then the enemy summoned a blizzard to wipe us out... and lost control of it."

"Survivors?"

"None on our side. A dozen left out of thousands in Zakasi's army."

"Zakasi died in the storm?"

"I don't know." Zarius shrugged.

"I do." one of the other boys raised his hand. "They say she got separated and taken prisoner. Only that the blizzard caught the party and killed them all."

"How believable is this version?"

"More than the imperial one. We did not summon the blizzard. The crew was 300 people. None of them knew summoning. Zakasi's army was over 12 thousands and with a whole unit of summoners."

"The imperials say the forces were ballanced."

"Bullshit. The fort at the Fields of Ice was some 200 people, plus another 100 of reinforcements called at the last moment. I was about to be sent there by a transfer stone with the reinforcements, but the leader said there's no more room at the fort for us."

"Maybe there were only 300 of them as well?"

The boy looked at the others. Nobody answered.

"Why would they overestimate the numbers of the enemy by so much?"

"Which one would you prefer? A story of hopeless battle where all died senselessly, or a heroic story of a miracle where the few brave died, taking hordes of the enemy with them?"

He lowered his head.

"I'm not saying I'm right. It's just a possibility. Actually, I'd like to see the battlefield in person."

"It's been years since it happened. Likely it's under a mile of ice." another of the boys said.

"So?" Zarius asked.

They fell silent.

* * *

Zarius, Sodari, Kosti, Kath and Din. Likely to be the first officers of the new league. I knew that you need just some dedication and trust as the base of character. Good equipment, training and education, some indoctrination, and you could make an amazing warrior out of mostly anyone. Lereu was impressed with my "selection" of the "Saints", dedicated, fanatical expert soldiers, with more skill and apparent experience than any of the rebels and most of the army. My secret was that I picked a bunch of rookies, gave them armours and weapons, taught them how to fight and gave them enough faith that they didn't fear death. Oh, and the Wall, which was the unbreakable glass towards the inside, air towards the outside. The enemy couldn't get in, you could shoot out. From outside it was a fortress. From inside, you stood on a hill. Until I played a song. And then you just stood on a hill. Without armour. Without weapons. The defeat was spectacular, it felt like a horrile blow to the rebels, but practically the rebels were hardly worse off than before the League. Except for the morale.

I found the fort at the Fields of Ice deserted and empty. No wonder. Who needs a fortress that is half a mile under the surface of snow? The rebels kept it afloat on the surface in the past. The imperials set up a base for a year or so, then abandonned the place spiking it with dozens of of traps. After disarming them and sealing the windows, removing some of the ice that pushed inside through them, bringing some supplies and resources, it was a perfect place for our secret base. The transfer stone was protected - only bearer of a password could pass. But I knew enough of Stonemason's art to read the password off the source stone, then change it. I even made the stone to send whoever used the old password to the Temple of One. "Apparently the fort has collapsed and the ice destroyed the stone."

The boys were bringing sand while I was shaping the forge. I spent a lot of time making it better than any forge I had built before. First I built a small one using nothing but the fire of the tip of my pipe to shape the Shell - a sphere with just a small opening, filled with sand molten into glass, then I created a Spark, a permanent fire that kept the glass liquid, then I began producing parts to build the system of sand delivery, sucking it off the sea bottom miles below.

"Did you have to build it so far from the stone?" Kosti wiped sweat off his forehead as he poured another bag of sand. "It's five steps of walk in Porinn from the stone to our fortress to the one to the desert, and the sand is just outside that other stone, but we have to carry it two floors to the great hall because the forge couldn't be built in the sleeping quarters downstairs. I don't see how this room is any better than any other."

"This will be the best forge I have ever built. And the biggest one."

"What for? You won't take anything bigger than the door out from this room."

"Then we'll need bigger door."

"And corridor and stairs and door downstairs if you plan on getting it to the stone."

"No. I plan on removing this wall." I pointed at the longer of the walls of the room. About fifty yards long. "Once I have the supports to replace its function ready."

"There's nothing but ice there. Half a mile to the surface."

"Plenty of room to assemble the parts. Tunnels instead of scaffoldings. I hate working with scaffoldings."

Kosti's eyes went wide. "And we're to bring sand to build this all?"

"No worries. Just enough for the first intake pipe to the sea bottom below."

I made two "worms" in the small forge. The small mindless creatures had only one purpose in life each. One to travel up, the other to dig down. I released them outside the window and they began their work, tiny teeth biting their way through snow, digging two tunnels - up, to the surface and down, to the ground. We'll need access to the sand below and a channel to release steam from evaporated ice above.

It took me a few more hours to get the stream of sand running and I could start building the actual furnace. Brick by brick, with each brick made of glass so heat-resistant that it wouldn't melt inside a star, almost as light as air and still pretty hard, keeping the heat inside, keeping the molten sand at bay. I built twenty four demons, creatures that read your mind and shape glass like you want it to be. They weren't necessary but they were helpful for creating pieces of extreme levels of sophistication. You could tell each of them to keep a simple tune, one-note track, then combinine them all into one, with your own tune on top of the twenty-four complications. Four demons, like at the forge in the Temple of One, would make a piece almost impossible to destroy for a person without the organ - you could set the organ to play the parts of the demons and try to play the solo yourself. Except the best organs I knew about could keep up with eight demons. Following a track of a demon for a skilled player was easy. Following track of two - somewhat tricky. Following more than four, without aid from the instrument - mostly impossible. So... using this forge even an apprentice could create something nobody could destroy. Could I destroy such a piece? I believed so. But I wasn't sure.

I couldn't feel time passing as I kept building the forge. I made basic (although rather good) armors and training weapons for the five, and told them to bring others after screening them first. No snake means okay. In two days or so the fort was bustling with life. I had fifty-five new recruits. The forge was ready. I went to sleep, waiting for the furnace to fill with raw glass, and resting after three days of non-stop work.

In the morning I began the actual work. First of all, weapons and armours for all. Including myself. Not a half-assed job like the one I had made at the temple. I made one, a masterpiece, a perfect suit of armor, then copied it. And none of the copies was worse than the original. They all shared the same song of destruction but... I decided that if I hated myself for making the snakes too perfect, I can hate myself for making suits for the rebels I couldn't destroy as well. Their song of destruction was not only madly complicated and tricky. It was also ridiculously long. Like... two days long? Good luck finishing it before the battle is over. The weapons weren't as overengineered, but there was a variety of them. I allowed the rookies to design them. The rookie would give the weapon a basic shape, and I would correct it, give it depth and perfection. Some of them were weird, but I knew often a weird-looking weapon confuses an experienced warrior enough that it gives you the upper hand, even if neither you nor the weapon are better than what the enemy has to offer.

I set the ranks. Zarius was the leader, the four others led four platoons composed of all the rest. All they needed now was experience and training. So I sent them all off to get it and leave me alone for a day or so.

Precisely, I sent them to Sariba, a far island, where there's a cave. A cave created by the Bookkeeper, comissioned by the Soldier. That's where the Soldier lay too. Not really dead, but not willing to leave his dream. And my rookies would dream the same dream. They'd spend one night there. But the dream in their mind would take thirty years. Thirty years of war, of training and of struggle to survive - thirty years, thirty lives. That's how many times you can die in your dream before you die for real.

I remembered I really loved my training at Sariba. I finished my first night at my last life, but the third time I was through, I survived the thirty years without dying once. And the fourth time I got to kill the Soldier three times. Then he kicked me out. For cheating.

* * *

I got a wand that would evaporate the ice with waves of heat, building stairs as you go wielding it in front of you, then I simply climbed a really long staircase to the surface, creating a new step as I stepped on a lower one. When dim daylight replaced the surrounding darkness, I made a horizontal section of the corridor, then a small chamber with a depression and a turn before creating the final stairs to the surface so that snow wouldn't fall all the way down.

I stood in the cold wind sweeping the snow in waves by me. I had to keep the face plate down because of the cold, the armour keeping me warm, though some cold was seeping through the joints.

I reached to my belt and took a small figurine of a unicorn. Similar to the one that got buried in the Temple of One, but this one had a purpose. I'd given it life and a skill - seeing the past. "Go, my friend. An army had gone for a battle this way a long time ago. Show me the way."

The unicorn ran a short way, the horn shining brightly in the storm, so that I wouldn't lose it in the snow. I followed. The unicorn stood, digging in the snow with its front hoof.

"You don't have to walk their paths, silly. just follow the surface above them."

The unicorn nodded and plunged into the whiteness so that I had to break into run to keep up. I jogged for several minutes, then had to shout to the unicorn to slow down. I followed it for another hour or so through the snow, in one particular direction. There were no landmarks whatsoever and the wind never changed its direction.

The unicorn finally stopped, the plain looked even smoother and less distinct than before.

"If this is the battlefield, locate a place where the leader of the enemy was."

The unicorn ran in a small circle, then stood in front of me, looking at me helplessly.

"Where did the enemy army come from? Show me the direction."

The unicorn ran a short way ahead, slightly left, then turned its head looking at me.

"Backtrace their route till you find a track of their general."

The unicorn ran into the snow eagerly. I followed, jogging again. I was about to shout for it to slow down again when it stood, stomping the tiny front hoof on the hard surface.

"Follow the path the leader went. There should be a place of a battle or other major event along the way. Stop there."

The unicorn ran again, but stopped several times along the way, looking down, peering at the past that happened far below the surface. I asked it to keep a slower pace, but it was very eager, often forgetting the order, then stopping, pacing in circles waiting for me. Finally it stopped at a certain point, digging in the snow again.

"Was it a battle?"

It looked at me somewhat confused, pondering, finally nodded.

"Is the body of the general here?"

The unicorn shook its head no.

"So where is it?"

The unicorn just looked at me helplessly.

"Did she die?"

A helpless look again.

"Where did she go?"

The unicorn trotted through the snow, much slower than before, and a quite short way, stopping and looking at me helplessly.

"Is she here?"

no.

"Where did she go from here then?"

another helpless look.

"You don't know?"

yes.

"Is there a transfer stone or another means of transport here?"

The unicorn shook its head, then stopped and thought for a while, then nodded, uncertainly.

"Was she alive when she passed through here?"

Uncertainty again.

"Unconscious?"

A very uncertain nod.

"Wounded?"

nod.

I took my wand of heat. "Follow me. Let me know when we're level with the battlefield."

Making the stairs up was going automatically, stand on a step, launch a pulse and another step was made. Building stairs down was nearly impossible without risking burning your own feet off. I had to build a gently sloped corridor spiralling down, and the bottom was awfully slippery. I tried shaping some curbs, digging vertical pits or otherwise make the descent easier, all in vain. I was progressing very slowly. It took me some half a hour and the milky white snow around me was becoming darker, until I stood in a layer of a solid, transparent crystal of ice. I lit the edge of my dagger and it shone some way into the ice. Not enough. I took my pipe and lit the spark at the tip. Its heat was melting the ice around me and soon I stood knees deep in lukewarm water, but I could see really far around, the face plate hiding the blinding direct light of the spark, showing only the surroundings.

There were two groups of corpses deeply frozen and floating like random dots in the endless transparent ice. Why two? I peered at them and seemed to recognize imperial uniforms in the bigger group. I had to dig further, first evaporating the water, then digging more. The tiny unicorn stayed several paces behind, observing carefully. It lasted and it was slow, but at least I had a direction set. Finally the unicorn approached me and knocked the ice with its hoof.

I lit the spark again and saw the bodies just ahead of me. They all wore imperial uniforms. Not a single rebel. And there were no projectiles in their bodies. They all died in a close quarters combat. The other group was closer too and I didn't see a single imperial there.

"Why are the bodies in two groups? Did someone put them like that?"

No. Besides, they were randomly scattered in each group. What happened here? I knew whom I could ask. There was a snake on the helmet of one of the bodies. But the snake would try to take me for a master as soon as I freed it and I wasn't willing to risk getting it again. I cursed a little for not giving speech to the unicorn.

"Which way did Zakasi go?" I asked, and it knocked at the wall in direction of the other group. Then I noticed the trail. Red dotted lines led from both sides meeting in the middle, forming bigger blots. Blood. Some were wounded and they went there. Both groups met in the middle. And then together they went... where? I was cussing at the wand digging the horizontal tunnel slowly, way slower than I'd like it to. Steam from the evaporated ice made the air hot, the floor covered with water as it was condensing on the walls. The trails of blood led ahead then slightly down. The ice had a slightly different texture, I noticed an outline of an old tunnel down. It wasn't the only one too. I lit the spark for a moment again, and saw borders of many tunnels sloping down at various angles, connecting in one point.

"Is that where you lost the trail?"

The unicorn nodded. I followed the trail to the end, where it broke. The point was entirely nondistinct, but when I passed it...

* * *

It was a dark, empty plain of black gravel. The sky wasn't stars but odd blue, purple, violet lines on the black background. And three red circles, not suns, not planes, just circles of various sizes. Rows of towers jagged the horizon. There was a Scout in front of me, bigger than all the Scouts I had seen before.

"You cannot pass at this time, Glassblower" he said in his language of growls.

"Then I shall not. Just answer my one question please, noble Scout. Did Zakasi survive? Is she alive?"

"She died here."

I heard the steps of the tiny unicorn running through the gravel. I saw the green light of its horn, stopping in front of an oblong pile of gravel. There was a sword lying along its top. It was a grave. And I recognized the sword.

I knelt in front of the grave and cried.

I picked the tiny figurine and placed it on the blade of the sword. "Guard her grave. Guard her forever." I whispered. The figurine froze motionlessly in a pose of beauty and attention, its life sent to sleep indefinitely, until it would be needed again.

I walked up to the Scout.

"Please, send me home, noble Scout. Send me where I came from."

"This, I can do."

* * *

I was sitting in my deep armchair, my favourite glass of my favourite brandy in my hand. I cursed the Scout. I cursed myself. Scouts are too precise, take their orders too literally. Outside, the Sun was setting over the dead universe. There was no wind this time, but I preferred the horrible howls of wind to this silence. I wound the old clock in the corner of the room, and now the slow ticking was filling the emptiness. I had found my electronic watch with callendar in my nightstand drawer. Another month passed since the last time. Now I was just passing time after I decided I can spend the night sleeping in my own bed and try to find my way back in the morning.

Not a soul. Unless Elene found her way back here. I wondered if she succeeded and haunts the place. My mind wandered to the successes, to the olympic games, to the horses. A tear sparked in my eye when I remembered the cold, soft touch of dead Fairy.

Then I heard hooves.

The regular clapping sounded on the road towards my personal stable.

I froze. The sound got muffled inside the stable, then stopped.

I ran to the stable, my heart beating madly from fear and hope.

And I stood in the doorway. There was the unicorn in the stall.

She walked out of the stall as she saw me, and approached me without fear.

"I was afraid I arrived too late, but I see you're still here, Glassblower" she said, her voice soft, gentle and very feminine. "I have a message for you."

"I know. What is the message?"

"General Zakasi died. You should continue her work."

"Then you are late indeed. I've learned that much by myself."

"Then my task is done. Farewell." she turned to the exit.

"Wait!"

"Why?" she stopped in the doorway.

"Come with me. Or let me follow you."

"I see it in your eyes. The need. The hunger. The way you look at me. I'm afraid of you."

"No. You're the perfection I sought, the happiness. I know I can't have you without killing you, and I would never hurt you. You're safe with me."

"No." she dug with her hoof in the dust by the doorway and the sparkling dust shone in the air. "No." she looked at the shining circle around the post, the remains of the rope. "No!" she cried, plunging into the dead world.

Once again I saw the beauty of a unicorn running, but I didn't chase her. I sat, cursing. "Damn you! Damn you Zakasi, be damned your second resistance, damn you Fern, damn you all."

I crouched, picking a handful of sand. It was leaking through my fingers. Some of the shining dust was mixed with it. lingering in the air, leaving a shining cloud.

If I can't have any of it, why not destroy it all? Destroy the resistance, for being such a failure, full of spies and traitors. Destroy Lereu for trapping me, giving me a life in this world, wasted time, no happiness, as a prize for my work. Destroy the second resistance, for giving me hope and taking it away again. And if I die in the process, what's the difference?

I detached the pipe from my back and dug the tip into the dust at my feet. Blowing slowly, turning it, I played simple notes, a raw rough sketch of the universe. First the invocation: time, gravity, temperature, air. Then specifics: very open in all directions, easy to travel and navigate with nonlinear geometry, easy to exit with countless gateways to other universes. I raised the shining sphere, then detached it from the tip letting it float in the air, growing slowly. I waited till it was filling the corridor, then entered it. It was a simple, basic universe too young for contents, life, matter, but I could will to be anywhere within it and I was there. I willed to be at the gateway which led to the Lost City of Porinn, then I passed the gateway, entering Porinn, leaving the new universe behind. It would continue to grow unattended for a few days more till it collides with the edges of the dead universe, then the collision will destroy them both. So what? Who cares?

* * *

The corridors of the fortress under the ice were still empty, and I was glad for it. The furnace was less than half-full. I'd need much more sand, I needed to increase the output of the transport pipe. I let another five worms loose, digging channels down, then created suction pipes to follow the tunnels, extending down, to bring more sand faster. Then I sat down and played with creating roses. The demons were immensely helpful. I spent first fifteen minutes teaching them the concept of roses and they made the first three-note rose alone, without my help. I tried for a five-note rose and it took me a minute to get it right. I held a toy in my hands, that when dropped would evaporate most of the Fields of Ice. Then I tried harder, and half a hour later I knew what I need. The furnace was encircled with a hundred demons and they were creating more demons without my attention. I left to have some meal and when I was back, the furnace was nearly empty with five hundred demons ready - small gargoyle-like figures occupying most of the space around. I decided to try again. I could produce five-note roses with my eyes closed, one after another. I concentrated, then created a six-note destroyer of galaxies. It was different, it shone with a dim violet light as if radiating hidden energy, but it was still unimpressive as for an item that would leave parsecs of the universe dead. Then I put it away and sat meditating. I didn't let my mind wander. I focused on the task at hand, let the interconnections play together in my mind, with a handful of threads always kept by the helpful demons, handing me simple solutions. Time was beyond me, there was just the universe of tangled notes, petals playing the song on each other. Countless six-note roses with the seventh note needed, and a different seventh note played ran through my head. And then all seven notes were the same.

The rose was big and black. Entirely black, swallowing any light that touched it, so you could only see its black outline, no depth, no inside contours, just a dark hole in the reel of film of life.

Lereu was used to travels between universes. She always lived near an edge of one, able to skip to the other when the first one becomes too dangerous. This rose would leak its destruction through all the gateways, seep into all the neighbor universes. Just a short way in, maybe several miles, sometimes less, sometimes more. More than you could cover on foot after the explosion. More than you could cover using any means of transport other than another gateway, skipping two universes away.

There was no way to drop this rose and live. It was a tool for a suicide mission.

I became aware of possibility of an eight-note rose. Or more, of its impossiblity. It would entirely destroy the whole multiverse, no more no less. But it was entirely impossible. I reached the last step before impossibility.

* * *

They came back, but they weren't the same people. There was a hardness in their eyes, their movement was different, softer and more dynamic. They began training immediately, complaining that their bodies will need months to reach satisfactory condition. One fourth of them didn't come back. They never woke up. The cave was littered with bones...

Forty-five veterans with masterpiece equipment. They would make a fearsome battle force, each worth a hundred foes or more. But I'd learned it's not the people alone who win battles. The human factor is secondary. I lay out the plans. They listened intently and declared their support. The training taught them only a fool awaits battle eagerly. The wise warrior wins without ever facing the the enemy, using superior firepower from a safe distance and rarely cares whether given place is the actual hideout of the enemy, or just a potential hideout.

Superior shield, superior firepower, superior speed and overwhelming attack force. Given these even the element of surprise is secondary. The enemy hides in a cave of one of the mountains, and you evaporate the mountain range. The enemy finds allies and starts a war against you on three fronts, and you just destroy the half of the world that expresses any support for your opponents. This approach has one strong weakness: the enemy can take hostage these you care for. Luckily I didn't suffer from this vulnerablity.

I constructed even more sand intake channels, increasing the output three times. Then we all began building the construction yard, removing the walls, digging corridors in the ice. I was creating floating transport discs that would allow us to transport the parts to given locations, and when the furnace would run low on raw glass, I'd switch to less bulky, less material-consuming constructs. I created roses. Many five-note roses, a couple of six-note roses. I made four more seven-note roses, and they were easy - once you know the pattern, you just copy it. I also dedicated one demon to the small furnace, gave it a constant supply of sand and taught it to create shards. I'd build some nice shard cannons later. Miles of a neatly rolled glass fibre tape holding the shards orderly oriented in one direction were accumulating in the corner as we finished preparations for the construction.

We still didn't have exact projects for the device, or even specific idea for its shape. After the supper we gathered in the dining room. Somebody brought big sheets of paper and a handful of pencils. We began drafting the conception.

"She should be closed to make invasion from outside harder. Nothing like sea ships."

"What about shape of a bird?"

"Long surfaces like wings are vulnerable. We have enough raw power we don't need them."

"Shouldn't she be lean?"

"Definitely. Air friction will create heat. We can shield from most of it and neutralize lots of the remainder, but it's the limiting factor on our speed."

"Arrow?"

"Long, breakable."

"Cone?"

"Better, but not practical to land"

"Cigar shape?"

"Not bad, but I don't see good points for cannons."

"Give her two hulls. When one breaks, the other still works."

"Sounds good, but it would be still possible to destroy both with one well placed hit. What about three?"

"One main big hull and two smaller on the sides?"

"All connected into one shape with gentle curves. Three engines on the back, plus two rings of four smaller engines on each hull for turning and landing."

"Keep the rings apart so that hitting one wouldn't take out all hulls at once."

"Canons on the joints between the hulls?"

"They won't have good coverage"

"Unless we extend them far to the front"

"And back."

"It's almost like we have five hulls now."

"Not really. The canons are more like towers." I sketched the idea. "Four canons at the joints of the hulls, extended forward and back. If they can rotate in any direction, most of the time three of them will have most of the points covered."

"We're getting two huge dead zones along the sides, at close distance. And won't these get in the way of the engines?"

"The engines are not a problem - the towers will be built from the same material as the engine shells. But you're right about the dead zones. What about moving all the towers to far, extended corners?"

"The front starts to look like head of a hammerfish. Not lean."

"We don't need all the towers to cover the dead zones. Let's keep the front ones tucked inside, and the back ones extended."

"We still have two dead zones on top of the main hull."

"What about reconfiguring this into three hulls in a triangular pattern?"

"The middle, which is best protected becomes useless."

"If we tuck the hulls close together, it leaves very little room in the middle"

"We could place some good strong gun in there."

"And it would shoot right through the shard cannon right in the front?"

"Besides, we don't have any big strong gun. But this is where the command center should be. And most of the quarters."

"Outside the hulls?"

"In the fourth hull which remains attached to whichever of the others sustains the attack."

"It should have some independency too."

"It will, but the chance of survival when all three main hulls are destroyed are slim."

The final shape resembled an old-fashioned rocket built from three pipes bundled tightly together, with three fins sticking back behind the engines, slightly rounded tip blending the three together. The central three round hulls kept together by a thin fourth one in the middle, spherical gun nests on round bearings able to turn in any direction. We listed the necessary facilities it would have to contain, then decided upon the size of the whole thing to contain them all, tripled where applicable.

Honestly, I didn't know how our creation would fare against Lereu's forces. The main weapon were the roses and there was a canon launching them, in special capsules with timed primer. If under attack, we'd launch a rose, fight for some five seconds, then turn to face the explosion with the bow. The enemy surviving it was very unlikely. The problem was we wouldn't survive the five-note rose from a close distance. It had to be some two thousands miles away and even then only the extreme durablity of the hull would allow us to survive.

I didn't need to tell them to set watch, while the rest of us went to sleep. The furnace would fill overnight and the extra intake channels would activate, allowing us finally to work without breaks even on largest parts.

* * *

"What brings you here again, Glassblower?"

"Teach me the art of squeezing portals into creations."

"Do you expect me to do it for free?"

"Say your price."

He smiled.

"I could ask you to give me the most valued of our skills. I could ask you to teach me how to create universes."

"And I'd give it to you."

"But the age of creations has ended... There's no need for new universes, and even if there was, they would be dull and empty with the few of us left to add to them."

"What is your price then?"

"Life. Give me the art of blowing life into creations. I've been lonely too long. I create beautiful things but they lack life."

"They will still lack soul."

"So I'll give them pieces of mine."

"Can you?"

"No, but you can teach me that."

"In exchange for art of overcoming gravity."

"You're selling your secrets cheaply."

"Consider it a sale. The shop is closing."

"Then add your art of creating light and heat out of nothing as a bonus."

"Can I have mastery over the time in exchange?"

"Even if I had it, the price wouldn't be fair. But you can have the hack I use that commonly passes for said mastery."

"It shoud suffice. There's one more thing. I will be destroying lots of things. I can not avoid destroying some of your creations. I want our non-destruction agreement void."

"This could lead back into the Age of Wars."

"I will not defend or avenge my creations, except of the few newest ones."

"And you won't attack me or my current sphere of creations if I limit its scope."

"Unless my enemies find shelter there or nearby."

"I won't allow them to do so."

"Then it is agreed."

"It is. But tell me, why are you willing to destroy so much?"

"You advised me to distance myself from the mortals. I decided to follow the advice, but I'm too bound to them, too entangled in the affairs. The only way to break the bond is to destroy one of the sides of the bond. I need to destroy these I served, these I fought for, these whom I desired. Only when they are gone, when there's no return, I will have no doubt, I will be able to move ahead, to seek again. Whatever I tainted in the past chases me and taints whatever future I find."

"But the past will remain in your mind."

"This I can cope with."

"Fine. When do you want to start learning?"

"What about now?"

* * *

We named her "Vicious" and prepared for the virgin flight. She could reach half the speed of light in ten minutes, then turn on a dime by dropping two transfer rings, nearly adjacent to each other. She could drop transfer rings anywhere and then jump to them, she could lob transfer rings through other transfer rings and transfer stones and she could exploit all the transfer stones and unclaimed wild portals to travel the multiverse. The transfer rings were just like transfer stones, except they had only one destination each - another ring of a pair, they were always active, you could have a pocket full of them... and they were made of glass.

Several special species of grass, bushes and trees would purify water and provide us with air while fed with light from artificial suns. It made the insides look like forests and given the little freedom at choosing which plants go where, we made one hull a coniferous forest, one a rainforest jungle and one of birches and willows over a brook. The brook ran in a loop around the circumference of the hull and tips of the tallest firs touched tips of the ones on the other side, but the place felt relaxing. Not quite like the pure, dark and shiny control center, spatious launchers of the roses or the cannons on the tips of the fins. These were practical, secure and fail-proof.

It took the three forests sixty years to grow, as Vicious lay in wait in a far universe, but only a night passed for us, as we used Stonemason's hack, a transfer stone leading to a set of universes with a varied time flow speed. Then we brought her back, loaded up, armed and prepared for takeoff.

We flew through the ice above us like it was water. "Vicious" shot above the surface of ice like a fish, and we flew towards the sky, turning towards our first target.

The thirty years of learning the craft of the Soldier taught my crew many things. It taught them how strong a weapon the pain and suffering of others is. It taught them death is the only mercy you can afford to give. That dependency may mean doom. That before you fight the enemy, you must get rid of your vulnerablities, and that fear for those you love is the worst of them.

Our first target was Ipsa and its wastelands, home of all of my crew, home of all whom they cared for. The conditions of the bombing were different than usually. Each of my crew had a button in front of them. Each had to press and hold it. Only when all the buttons were held down, the rose would be released. We hovered over the village, preparing for the jump. Nobody hesitated. The rose plunged down and we slowly moved into the portal which led us six thousands miles up, bow facing down.

The flash shook the ship a bit, then we saw the globe of white light spreading through the desert. It swallowed the forest of Eastern Tir, it swallowed the northern ocean and parts of the Fields of Ice, it spread back inland, Mountains of Sorrow somewhat deflecting it, but it still rolled through the densely populated Grazelands and splashed into the swamps of Amiria. The shockwave was no longer deadly as it rolled on, but the wastelands were gone, a hole in the ground shining red between mountain ranges on their borders, and the adjacent lands were just a barren, glazed desert. I thought of the grave of Fern, likely changed into a puddle of molten rock. Good that he didn't live to see such a demise of his beloved lands.

We all were in murky mood, but that was to be expected. Besides, this was more of a symbollic gesture. To release our minds. Somehow I hoped to see all of the world going dull grey. I hoped the unicorn of this world lives in Eastern Tir, and that killing it, we will settle it once and for all. But it didn't.

"Let's make it quick" Zarius said as he settled back in his first pilot seat.

"Yes, let's." I agreed

The sky flashed. We floated in dark empty space. "Empty universe. Cannons, destroy the entrance ring" Zarius ordered.

I heard the cannons rattling, then an explosion. Sure noise doesn't carry through void. It just carries through the hull hit by shockwaves of explosions.

"Ring destroyed" sounded.

"Heading for the wild portal."

The sky turned rich blue and red. We still floated in empty space.

"This is the escape target universe. Clear. Going back."

The sky turned black again.

"Dropping a ring, then going for the portal back to Porinn."

A loud crash as the trees fell around, the ship composed into the forgotten city.

"Glassblower, your turn. Which way to the Queen?"

"Set the timers."

Four rose capsules began ticking ten seconds. One five-noter and three of the destroyers of the universes.

"Set."

The ship lay on the right stone. It lay on dozens of other stones as well, which was moot. I thought of the throne room.

Loud noise, walls crashing around us. We were inside the palace through a transfer stone, right in there, the ship of five hundred yards composed into the construction of the building and hogging the access route to the transfer stone. I looked at the screen and Lereu was there, struggling to her legs, in her red crown, in her crimson robe, already ordering her minions to act, although I couldn't think of sensible orders she could give right then.

Kath shouted "Dropped!" from his rose release stand. The container left outside, some eight seconds left. Engines roared, more walls collapsed and we pushed the huge ship through a human-sized doorway of the emergency portal Lereu would use to escape a dying universe. I saw a world of crystals, but it lasted less than a second "Dropped", Kath shouted, and the world turned black. "Dropped." The world turned vibrant hues of blue and red. "Dropped, Run!" Kath shouted and the hull shook with the engines singing at maximum strain. Then a blast shook us heavily.

"Three seven-note roses dropped. One in our universe. One in the world on the escape route, one in the middle world on our two-jump escape route, and a five-note rose dropped at the exit in the current world." Kath reported.

"Did we kill her?" Zarius asked.

"We won't know. Possbly ever."

"Can we do anything about that?"

"No."

"And it felt too easy." Kath commented. "I pressed three buttons from the third row, then one from the first row. That's it. I killed Lereu by pressing four buttons".

"Was she there or did we do it all in vain?"

"I saw her in the throne room bossing others around as we departed."

"But she could have escaped?"

"Not throught the portal we crashed through."

"But she could?"

"Yes."

"So she's likely dead. But if she isn't, we won't know. There are too many universes to find her anew. And I don't feel relieved or happy or anything. We've reached our aim. I don't even feel sad. Tell me, Dave. Shouldn't I feel sad for my mother I have killed?"

"I don't know, Zarius. I know I should be relieved, but I don't. Nothing I cared for remains. Nothing I lived for exists anymore. I am free to do whatever I want, and what I want most right now is to follow it all to oblivion."

Zarius smiled to me. So did Kath. Others nodded.

"It should be a decision of us all" Zarius said.

"Which one?" Kath asked.

"Any. The others will explode anyway."

"Three seconds?" Kath asked.

"Three seconds is okay."

"The vote set is ready."

I pressed a small red button in the corner of the console. I regretted I had no bottle of brandy with me. I cursed Fern once more, not feeling happy the least bit.

I heard a quiet clang.

One...

Two...

Three.

* * *

I remembered my happy childhood on the wineyard, with my parents. I didn't really love them. I liked them, they were good to me and I was mostly good to them, but somehow they felt distant, absent. I loved our jenny though. A white mule, as beautiful and lean as a pure breed horse, but with donkey-style tail and longer ears. Always gentle, always obedient and always good to me. She never aged. She was always as young as when I remembered her first. When my parents died, I inherited the wineyard and didn't seek a woman to marry. I'd spend days picking the grapes and loading them on a cart she pulled. I'd make fine wine while she grazed nearby. I'd bring the bottles to the town and people would stop, watch her for a moment, then ask for the price of the wine and buy a few bottles, even though they had never intended to buy it in the first place.

Once every full moon she'd jump the fence and run away. I never tried to stop her. She'd come back the next morning, smelling of far places, sea salt, snow, desert sand. She was happy to see me waiting for her, to hug her as she jumped back through the fence to the pasture, the barrier so meaningless.

I desired her and my desire grew through the years. And she didn't shun me, didn't turn me down. One night, when I was thirty or so, on the night of full moon, instead of running she came to me and asked me to get on her back. In a matter of minutes she took me to a far seaside, I didn't remember the ride, but I remembered the night. We were close, closer than ever. We were cuddling till we were both sure we desire each other. She was scared and so was I, subconsciously we knew that she gives me more than her virginity. We knew that what I give her is more than pleasure.

The next morning she wasn't the filly I had known for the last thirty years. In matter of hours she became an adult mare, bigger, stroner, much more horse-like. She was still beautiful but in a different way, and she matched me with her age better.

Soon I found out she was pregnant and I couldn't wait to see the foal. I had no doubt it's my child, but I wasn't given the opportunity to see it. The full moon before birth she ran away as usually, but she wasn't back for a week. She came back tired, looking older than before, without the foal, but there was no worry in her eyes. The child was far, but safe and in good hands. And she was happy to be with me.

We spent the next full moon on the beach again, and this time we were making love and frolic without fears and worries of the first time. It didn't affect her age, even opposite, she seemed younger and stronger, filled with new strength, bold, brave and somewhat dominant.

From then on we didn't need the beach anymore, and we'd spend long hours on sex despite her being pregnant. When the time came, she didn't run away. I bid her a warm good-bye and she went on her way with my blessing, without fear of loss, without worries and longing. The previous year I'd spend the week sulking in worry, this time I used it for all necessary repairs and maintenance of the wineyard, some trade, some purchases.

She wasn't as exhausted as she came back too. And the welcome was more than warm too. We couldn't wait for the night. We didn't wait for the next full moon either. I got her pregnant again, and again she gave birth far away. And so was runing a year after year, as we lived together. Neighbors knew but never cared. People valued my wine and never asked too many questions. And as I was growing old, so was she, year after year giving birth to children I wouldn't see, fatigue showing through, our health geating weaker. Our passion diminished. We'd enjoy warm nights cuddled together by the fireplace and we rarely engaged in sex anymore. The year I turned sixty was the last year she gave birth. But even then it was another twenty years together for us, and even though tired and old, she was still beautiful and still rare outbursts of her desire could wake the old fire in me.

The year I turned eighty was the last one. I knew it and so did she. It wasn't the physical health, it was fate stepping in, destiny claiming what we owed to it.

"Now, when we are to die, tell me the story. Tell me who I am and how did I deserve such a wonderful life."

"I won't tell you who you are," she said as she spoke for the first time I ever saw her speaking - I always knew she could, she just never did. "You fought too hard to forget your life to be reminded of it anew. You created me by accident and carelessness. I fled my world before it met its doom, mere days after its creation and hours after I came to be. Good people gave me shelter and told me the story of a tired, old man seeking happiness, then seeking oblivion when unable to find happiness, then creating oblivion when unable to find it. They despised him. They remembered the words of their long-dead leader, praising him for his doubt, adoring his despair, and they didn't understand. I felt pity for the old man. I knew he wouldn't find his happiness nor oblivion without help."

"And you gave me my happiness."

"You gave me just as much of it."

"What became of our children? Who are they? Where are they?"

"Brave men and women learning their crafts, they will be demiurges like their father."

"But we will die without seeing them."

"I saw them on the full moons. You will see them after you are reborn. When you remember me, you'll be good for them." there was a small shade of fear and uncertainty in her voice.

"And you, will you be reborn?"

"No, I will die."

"You will certainly go to heaven for all you did for me."

"No, I won't. I'm just an animal. Animals don't have souls."

"That's unjust. That's so unjust and wrong."

"My life was fruitful and happy. I will live in our children and in your memories."

"No. You will live eternally" I whispered. And as I could give parts of my soul to all of my creations, she was my creation too, and I gave her all of my soul. And she cried as she accepted it.

"I will. But what about you?"

"I will finally find my oblivion."

by Sharpfang

Mon Oct 15 01:42:49 CEST 2007