Coil of Worlds

The God and the Goddess had deserted him to this fate. The loss of his family and everything he knew left him empty, devoid of all emotion. Skye pivoted his head until he caught sight of the immobile paka. At the sight of her, the empty void filled with a seething hatred. The emotion poured through him like a roiling cauldron of pitch. Hate penetrated every crevice of his heart and mind.

She did this to him. Because of her, he was an outcast. He’d lost everything because of her.

Skye couldn’t contain the hatred pouring through him. He started shaking with the fury pounding through his vessels with every beat of his heart. His face became mottled and tight with the sheer act of suppressing the rage. His lungs heaved, the constriction around his chest strangling him.

Then a small rupture rent his control in half. Like a volcano erupting, the resultant outpouring of energy and rage had him leaping up from where he’d fallen. But it wasn’t enough to dispel the energy riding him.

In complete disregard for the danger around him, Skye tossed his head back and screamed at the unfairness of it all. His neck muscles strained from the volume and force at which he spewed forth his rage and his loss. Momentum took over and he couldn’t stop. The rage took on a mind of its own. As his pain and anger was given voice, more rage replaced it. His screams echoed eerily around the cavern, intermixing with the mourning cries of the survivors and the calls of pain from fighters suffering wounds. His tears ran unchecked down his face and dropped from his jaw.

He yelled until his voice went hoarse. And still he stood with his head back and his eyes closed, held motionless from the depth of his pain.

As quickly as the energy rose, it was gone. Though anger still rode him, Skye could no longer mold it. He collapsed into a boneless heap next to the paka and stared at Eiren with dull, reddened eyes. One thought ran through his mind. She was the cataclysmic cause of his downfall. The force of the thought had his entire body caving inward, grieving for what had been.

My Lord, she asked in a small, hesitant voice. He felt her questing mental touch reach the nebulous fringe of his mind. He threw up figurative walls made of brick and mortar. Skye grimaced when she swept past the mental walls and swiftly perused through his thoughts.

Eiren retreated upon discovering the intense rage encasing his every thought. But not before her genuine devastation at his newfound status seeped into his mind. Despite it all, his conscience gave a slight twinge from an unknown emotion. Searching for the name, he finally recognized it for what it was—remorse. The knowledge made his anger increase two-fold.

Why should he feel remorse? Why should he feel anything for the paka? The magic happened because of her. Before she changed his mind, Skye should kill her. Purpose filled him as he straightened and glared at her with unfettered resentment.

His hand skimmed the ground in search of the club. Skye turned to Eiren with the flames of retribution in his eyes.

But under the flickering flames from the surrounding burning structures, he got his first full look at the paka’s condition.

She looked horrible. She’d lost a good amount of weight, giving testament to her race through the tunnels without food. Her coat no longer shined from care, but was caked with the dirt and grime from the tunnels. Days-old dry blood from her battle with the rakir was matted in her fur. Teeth and talons had torn jagged wounds into her skin. Those horrific, three-day-old wounds marked her in every place his gaze landed. Some of the wounds shined from the free-flowing pus where infection had set in. Her battle with the rakir had taken its toll.

Unwillingly, he admitted her survival was a remarkable feat.

Her new wounds weren’t noticeable until Skye found sharp, white bone poking from her bloodied leg—its angle unnatural. The club had broken her left foreleg. He stared down in disbelief.

The magic hadn’t healed her. It hadn’t invigorated her, giving her more energy to fight against her wounds. Rather, the magic had cost her what little energy she had, making her that much weaker.

Eiren was fighting to survive by sheer will alone.

Skye realized with resignation the new, soul-deep bond between them would never let him harm her. The hand holding the club in a death grip opened, and the weapon dropped back to the ground.

He couldn’t raise a hand against the defenseless paka even if she was perfectly healthy. His entire being urged him to save her, protect her. The enforced restraint holding his hand made it impossible to strike against her. The new compulsion made his hatred rise again to the forefront, tightening his body in response.

For all his internal battle between his hate and resentment of the paka and the new but strong compulsion to save her, his hands reached out and feathered down her ribcage. He was careful to bypass her wounds for whole skin, not wanting to cause her further harm. When his hands made contact with Eiren’s still form, a measure of calm enfolded Skye’s senses, slowly settling his mind and loosening his taut frame. As his body relaxed, he rebuffed the reaction.

At his touch Eiren’s relief rushed through their link. He also felt her throbbing pain and growing weakness. Eiren’s near starvation and desperate thirst from her frantic journey through the tunnels transferred to him. Dizziness assailed him. Skye realized her situation was far more dire than his, and he couldn’t help but put aside his own loss. She needed saving. He let go a deep sigh, his decision made. He placed his left hand on her head, just below her ear.

“Be still,” he directed, “but do not fall asleep. I am going to try to find some water.” Creating a mental list of the materials he needed, Skye said, “I’ll also bring some cloth to clean your wounds.”

In a soft pant, Eiren said, Thank you for not leaving me, My Lord.

“Lord? Why have you given me such a title?”

A moment passed before she could answer. Whether you accept it or not, you are now My Lord. The Goddess, through the bonding ritual, has blessed us as such.

“The Goddess,” he scoffed in denial, “has abandoned me.”

No! The God and Goddess have blessed you beyond your imagining. She stopped and moaned.

“Don’t waste your energy trying to speak. You must heal to live, and for that you need every bit of strength you have. I cannot help you until I’ve retrieved the materials I need.” He glanced around and realized the survivors of the village attack were sifting through the dead. No one had noticed him yet. Cries of pain and sorrow reached him as he walked toward the nearest structure.

The small village was nestled along one short street, leaving the largest portion of open ground for their fields. The street ended in a communal area where big, flat stones rested in a semi-circle. A large wood and stone structure stood at the end of the street with a towering three-story layout. The walls surrounding the village looked as if someone had taken a giant hand and smoothed out all the crevices, making the cavern into a round oval.

Skye realized the heaviest part of the battle was fought in the communal area, almost as if the villagers had banded together for strength in numbers. Around those stones lay abandoned weapons and the fallen dead. Eiren lay halfway down the street, closer to the tiny, one-bedroom cottages Skye thought once housed the Kurite families.

The cottage Skye entered had escaped the majority of the destructive fire due to its rock structure. However, black scorch marks punctured the walls where the burned thatch had once filled the tiny gaps between the stones.

Searching the remains of the ransacked home in the diminishing light, he managed to procure a small bowl of water and cloths. But the prize was the pieces of straight wood and thin strips of cloth he scavenged from the cramped bedroom loft. If he could straighten her leg, the makeshift cast would allow her leg bone to properly knit. A healer needed to tend her infected wounds, for he did not have knowledge of herbs and other plants. With his arms loaded down, he stepped through the upturned furniture and household clutter left where it had fallen and approached the broad doorway.

Skye shook his head in wonder. The Pyranni troops had done an incredible amount of damage to the village in a short amount of time. It would take weeks—if not months—for Olun to recover.

Stepping across the threshold, Skye came face to face with the massive, white paka. A deep, intimidating growl passed the paka’s throat as Skye crouched down into a defensive position.

He should have kept the club. Skye didn’t take his eyes off Chion. The firelight from the last building still burned strong, showing off the bloody streaks covering Chion’s white coat in the flickering shadows. The paka’s eyes shone with a golden glint of the battle rage still flowing through his feline body.

He felt Eiren stir in his mind at the thread of unease that quickened his breaths. When she perceived the danger threatening him, she made a valiant effort to crawl to him. He could feel the pain shredding away what little energy she had left. In utter astonishment, he commanded the paka without taking his eyes off Chion, “Eiren, don’t. You are hurting yourself.”

Eiren, said Chion in suspicion, his right ear turning to hear the sounds around him.

Skye nodded and tipped his head minutely to the left.

Before Chion turned to look, the paka slid backward, putting distance between their standoff. Chion looked between Eiren and Skye several times, then Chion’s molten gold eyes affixed onto Skye’s face and remained.

Skye didn’t trust the sudden transformation in the paka. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.

Chion asked, When did you get the mark on your forehead, Pyranni?

It was Skye’s turn to peer closely at Chion, wondering what new tactic this was. “I do not have a mark.”

Yes. The mark on your forehead. It is identical to mine, except it is rotated to the side.

It was his turn to stare point blank at the paka, though Skye could barely detect the paka except for his eyes in the dim light.

In frustration at being sightless once again, Skye said, “This conversation is over. I don’t know what mark you speak of.”

Advancing forward with quick decisive steps, he moved away from the cottage and back toward Eiren. Hoping his next words would keep the paka from attacking him while at such a disadvantage, and not sure to what extent he cared, he reiterated, “Eiren needs my help or she will die.”

He slid to the ground, dumping the cloths onto the rocky ground, placing the bowl of water beside Eiren’s head. He whispered, “Eiren?”

Her answer was more sensation than words. In her attempt to protect him, Eiren was now sprawled on her stomach. It was a physical reminder that her loyalty came at a high cost. Some of her wounds had widened. Bright red blood trickled down her sides while the broken leg bone now jutted out obscenely, making him flinch in sympathy. She hadn’t had the energy to turn back over. She took slow but shallow breaths in an obvious effort to control the pain.

Skye felt true anguish for the petite paka. She couldn’t die now, not after he’d been banished from Pyran. He needed her more than he thought possible. Eiren was the only one he knew who would miss him if he died. Never mind the short acquaintance. A small dose of panic set in as he realized how true that last thought was. She was the only one who would grieve for him.

Knowing the white paka observed him with distrust, Skye put a trembling hand on her head. After scratching an ear, he leaned forward and said, “I am here. Don’t give up now.”

This time, her response was stronger, as if she was closer to the surface. He smiled down at the once proud and genteel paka. Again, he leaned over and whispered into her ear, “I am going to roll you back onto your side. You will be more comfortable.”

Wanting to ensure she knew what was happening, he followed their link and found her huddled spirit at the end. He could almost see her ears perk up as he lied while cajoling her. Do not leave. You have much to live for. I can’t make it in this world without you. There is still too much of this world for you to explore. Afterward, he realized his lies were closer to the truth than he knew. Her spirit crept closer to his voice. It also brought her closer to the intense pain. When I roll you over, you are going to be in even more pain. Stay linked to me.

He waited until Eiren was ensconced in his mind before he placed both hands on her side. He built in his mind a protective wall around Eiren’s fragile spirit. With his eyes squeezed shut, he forgot he could no longer see the cavern. Skye moved by touch; his eyes shut tight in concentration. Her pain and weariness transferred to him while she was safe behind Skye’s mental barrier. Their close link caused a groan to escape him as he rolled the paka back over to her side. Sweat pebbled on his forehead as he gulped in air. The pain was almost unbearable.

He opened his eyes only to learn the last fire had been extinguished. He now had to rely on his other senses for information.

Chion’s voice was laced with disbelief. You, a Pyranni, are tending a paka? Skye heard the paka step closer, brushing up against him. She is not answering my call, yet she breathes.

Skye saw the gold eyes look back at him out of the corner of his eyes, the only object he could see in the dark. The intensity behind the stare made him feel as if he was being weighed and judged.

At last, the paka relented. So be it. This paka is going to need more care than you are able to provide. I will search the survivors for a healer.

In a blink of an eye, the paka was gone. No longer able to see, Skye realized he couldn’t clean the paka’s wounds or set her leg. In an apologetic voice, Skye told her, “I cannot tend you as I wanted. I’m blind again. Do not try to move. Help is coming.”

In a gargantuan effort, Eiren responded in a weak whisper, Do not leave me alone. So very tired. I’m afraid. Pain is rising too fast. Worry nudged the corners of his mind where Eiren was kept safe behind thick walls. She sought his oath.

Skye hesitated. For the first time since focusing on Eiren, he recalled his deep anger and despair. Questions rose up from where they’d been locked away. Did she expect him to vow to stay with her for the rest of his life? He was now bound to the paka. Did that mean he must live with her? What did it mean to be bound? If he didn’t use the magic, what did that make him? What would happen if he did stay with the paka?

Sensing his hesitance and the slight cracks in the protective walls, Eiren tried to leave the safety and security of Skye’s mind and return to her own body. Skye lifted his hands to stop her, yelling aloud, “No. Don’t!”

His entreaty had her lingering on the brink of the walls. Agony and exhaustion awaited her on the other side. Eiren was far too exhausted to survive. Skye recklessly swore a fervent oath, “I so swear I will not leave you while you have need of me.”

The words faded away long before she replied with a question sent more in sensation and pictures than words. You did not swear on the hand of the God or Goddess?

“I cannot. The oath means nothing for the addition of the God or Goddess,” he said in undeniable shame.

You will see, she sent the impression out from the center of his mind, neither the God nor Goddess have deserted you. You are not cursed, though it may seem that way now.

With a last flicker of visual impressions almost too fast to follow, he pieced together Eiren’s vague thoughts. We are now among the most blessed of people here on this continent. We are Tal’Ai. With that last thought, she was gone. Fearing the alternative, he checked to ensure her presence crouched as a soft light within the confines of his mind.