Forever the Road (A Rucksack Universe Fantasy Novel) (46 page)

He has existed so long in hate,
she thought.
Has he ever tried to understand living things?

“Am I not alive?” the Smiling Fire said. “Do I not also deserve to live?”

“We defend ourselves against things that wish to kill us,” Jade replied.

“If I live, I also seek to protect myself,” the Smiling Fire said. “Life kills me. If I am to exist, living things must be killed. Or do you somehow deserve to live more than I do?”

Jade had no reply. Something flickered in the Smiling Fire’s eyes.
I’ve seen that before,
she thought.

“You know nothing. You burn with a fire that isn’t yours,” the Smiling Fire said. “I seek only to be as I was. You have nothing to offer me but weakness in a world whose every breath makes me less.”

Jade closed her eyes. “If you are alive, you should have a chance to live,” Jade said. “But not if it means destroying everything else in the world.” She stared into the flickering red eyes.

“You cannot stop me. What all stole will be all mine again.” The Smiling Fire moved to the center of the room, below the opening in the ceiling.

“When next I return, it will be time.”

Then he was gone.

He’s right,
Jade thought. Alone again, she took the photo out of her pocket and looked at the faces of the dead couple, then put it away.

Jade’s knees buckled. She slid down the wall until she crouched on the floor. There were no tears to cry anymore. There was no rage to shout with.
I can only hope Jay comes back,
she thought.
He’s our only chance.

Her hand brushed the stone of the worn slab. It seemed warmer than before, though nothing else in the room seemed different. Images flashed through her mind: The Smiling Fire, dim and faint, pounding on the wall. Then, exhausted, he collapsed onto the stone slab. Time passed. The room shook. The figure rose. As he stood, head back and arms outstretched, the Smiling Fire darkened, becoming more distinct and solid with every tremor. The first hint of his fiery grin glimmered, thin and faint, but there. The Smiling Fire stared at the ceiling of his prison, and then he leaped...

Jade’s hand stopped touching the slab. The images were gone as quickly as they had appeared.

Jade scrambled to her feet and stared at the impression worn into the obsidian.

The Smiling Fire has been here for eons,
she thought.
Even after he freed himself, he’s kept returning here. His body has worn itself into the stone…
Her eyes widened.

“Has his mind as well?” she whispered.

Jade pressed her hands to the stone and waited for the images to come back.

Nothing happened.

“You’ve never had anyone to listen,” Jade said softly to the rock. “But you have the most important story to tell. I am here to listen. You are rock of this world. If you know of life, if you know what he intends to do, if you care at all for a world with things that live, grow, and love, then please, please tell me your story.”

Jade waited. And waited.

Silence.

She shook her head.
This was foolish,
she thought, ready to take her hands away.

“It would help,” said the slow, low voice rumbling in her mind, “if you lie down.”

“Of course.” Jade climbed back onto the stone and settled her body down into the impression where the Smiling Fire used to lay.

“I’m listening,” she said.

The rock’s long story wove into her soul like music. It wove into the fibers of her body. She forgot time, hunger, and thirst. Jade lived only the story of the Smiling Fire: how he had come here, all his dark thoughts, the escape, and how different he seemed since the night he freed himself.

When at last the rock finished its story, Jade began to understand, but she did not get up. She stayed only in her deepest thoughts, thought beyond thought, seeing the Smiling Fire as it really was. And as it could be.

She found herself smiling.
I know what that flickering is,
she thought, even though she wasn’t yet sure how it could help.

Jade stirred only when a shadowy hand, hot as the fires of the early world yet colder than deepest space, pulled her to her feet.

“It is time,” the Smiling Fire said. “The mirror eclipse comes, and so does he.”

“Then let’s get going,” Jade said, smiling back.

O
N THE LAST DAY
of the world, Jigme never would have expected the sky to be so blue, bright, and clear. The sun rose toward its summit. Golden light poured warmth on Agamuskara, so different from the burning heat of the fading fires.

In the decimated city, the sun shone on a world of shadows.

From the opposite side of the sky, the full moon rose too. Ghostly silver-white, it hung level with the sun, but they did not overlap yet.

Soon it will happen,
Jigme thought, staring at the world through the eyes of the Smiling Fire.
One way or another, soon all of us will die.

“There is still no way,” said the voice of his father.

Jigme turned away from the outside world.

My father,
he thought.

Even now it felt so hard to believe. The man who could not speak. The man Jigme had walked past many times a day for years.

Anger welled in him. So did longing. Then the anger seemed less important.

Then a new feeling arose. It said his longing was not important. Nor was his anger. Nor was anything Jigme felt; it all mattered less than the problem before them. Though his feelings roiled and collided, ebbed and crashed, Jigme tried to focus himself on what was happening and what they could do about it.

Seeing both the sun and moon in the sky, Jigme knew how long they had been arguing and trying to find a way around the impossible. Could the Smiling Fire be stopped in a way that would not also destroy the souls preserved inside? No solutions came. If the Smiling Fire was destroyed, so were they and the children and all the others Jigme’s father had sought to protect after being consumed by the Smiling Fire.

But they didn’t give up. Amma’s concern for the children and for Jigme had brought out a fiery resolve in his mother that he had never seen before. When he or his father felt like their efforts were futile, Amma bolstered them. When Jigme despaired that he should have fully died, Amma pointed out that any life was a chance for them all. No matter how many dead ends they came to, she found another direction.

“We keep getting lost on the how,” Amma said now. “Let’s assume we know the how. The Smiling Fire can be stopped, and the souls can be restored to living bodies. How does that happen?”

“It’s a matter of redirection,” Jigme’s father said. “The Smiling Fire does not make his own life, he only steals it from others. The only way the Smiling Fire can be destroyed is to empty him of all energy, like turning the flame off a stove. Emptied of all fire of life, he will die. If some of that energy can be redirected, so that instead of fleeing out into the world it comes here, to the souls, then the souls and the energy could form new bodies, and these people could return to the world. There is no guarantee that all will return. The energy is only an opportunity, not a choice already made. Each soul must be strong. Each must want to live.”

“If they don’t,” Jigme said, “Then they will fully die. What happens then?”

“That is a question only they will be able to answer.”

As his father spoke, Jigme felt a question spark and burn inside him. “Will we also be able to go back?”

There was a long silence.

“Your mother and I must confer,” Jigme’s father said at last.

In the longer silence that followed, Jigme looked out into the world again, trying to distract himself from the despair and hope battling in his soul. The Smiling Fire had brought Jade back to the surface. He laid her unconscious body on the obsidian block that covered the entrance to his chamber. Then he tied her to the block by her wrists and ankles.

But there was a chance,
Jigme thought.
There has to be.

As the moon and the sun drew nearer to one another, the Smiling Fire set the dia ubh in a small round depression at the head of the stone slab, a few inches away from Jade’s hair. In the small crack on the surface of the dia ubh, Jigme saw the barest silver and gold glint, like the birth of a spark.

Jay has to be close,
he thought.
He has to be coming.

Jigme looked all around, wondering.

No one came near.

“Son,” said his mother.

Jigme looked away from the outside world. The way she said that one word, despair rushed through him. He had feared the answer he already knew to be right.

“You and Father can go back,” Jigme said. “But I can’t.”

“What was his name, Jigme?” Amma asked. “What was the name of the first boy you brought to the Smiling Fire?”

“I… I can’t,” Jigme said, feeling the memory of tears. Sadness then filled every part of his soul. Jigme saw the boy in his mind, saw his bright eyes and the hope on his face. Jigme could even still feel the happiness in his grip when the boy held his hand, as they walked through the gleaming, bustling, bright city of Agamuskara, past the empty stand of The Mystery Chickpea, down the alley, past the red door, to the temple…

To the death of the first child.

“Isn’t he here with you too?” Jigme said.

“He is not,” his father replied, bursting with regret and sadness. “You brought the first boy before I had given myself to the Smiling Fire. I was able to save all those he has consumed since my own decimation. The first boy is lost to us all.”

“And because of that,” Jigme said, “I do not get another chance.”

“You regret,” Jigme’s father said. “But regret is not enough for redemption.”

“But why you? Why Amma?” Jigme asked, anger rushing through him. “Why am I the only one who can’t have another chance?”

“Your mother did not act of her own accord,” his father replied. “You did.”

“But I am sorry.”

“That matters,” his father said. “But it is not enough.” The kindness and gentleness in the old man’s voice only further enflamed Jigme’s anger.

“Son,” his father continued, “you cannot even say his name. Even if you could…”

“It still wouldn’t be enough,” Jigme replied. “You were able to live here. You have been powerful enough to save all these other souls. Why not mine too? You said you wanted to do so much for me. Why not this?”

“There are worlds separating what I can do, what I have done, and what I should do,” his father replied. “As for me and your mother, we will not return.”

“What do you mean?” Jigme said. “You have a chance to live. That’s more than what I have. Why won’t you take it?”

“To give you a chance,” his father said. “To have an alternative, in case there is no other option. I have lived long, Jigme. Longer than you can imagine. My soul’s power has waned, but it is still vast. One way or another, my duty in the world is done. There either will be no world to protect from the Smiling Fire or there will be no Smiling Fire to protect the world from. What is left of my life I will give to help these others live again. I give it gladly. I have little hope to offer you, but such that I can is yours, along with the love that should have been yours all your life.”

“You’ve never given me anything before,” Jigme said, flooded with spite. “Why start now?”

“My son,” Asha said. “I am sorry. And no, that is not enough. I too will pass on, will give all that is left of me. There is nothing left for me in the world, and my life is not as I wish it could have been. I was not the mother for you that I should have been or wished I had been. If I can die and it brings you back, I die gladly. If I can die and bring back these others too, I die gladly. Live with my love, son. I take my regret with me.”

“But I just die,” Jigme said.

“There may be ways that we cannot see,” Amma replied. “We hope that it is so. Even if you must fully die, Jigme, at least you also may choose the manner in which you do so.”

“Maybe I should just fade away,” Jigme said. “Or let it all happen. Be consumed as the others are. Or watch them escape while I burn. If there’s no chance to live again, why bother with anything else? Why not just be done with it all? What did life ever really give me, anyway? All I had was you, Mum. Now I won’t even have that.”

“Jigme,” Asha said. “My son—”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I just don’t care. Let it all burn. What’s it good for, anyway? Why bother with life at all when it’s just cruel and thoughtless?”

His mother and father had no reply.

Jigme turned his focus back to the world outside. The Smiling Fire was looking at Jade, who was still unconscious. Jigme remembered how smart she was, how beautiful, how vibrant and alive. She had been kind.

And the Smiling Fire is going to kill her,
Jigme thought.
He has killed so many, and now he’s going to kill more. What has she done to deserve this death? Doesn’t she deserve to live?

If she does, who else does?

His anger dimmed.

“You have tried to save me and the others,” Jigme said. “But it’s my own actions that helped bring this about too. If I hadn’t helped him… If I hadn’t believed his lies… maybe none of this would be happening.”