Fragments of your Soul (The Mirror Worlds Book 1) (16 page)

The Month of Weeping Widows

Meanwhile, the third month of the year three hundred twenty-four had begun. Arvid had found a calendar the day before, which had shown that she had been living on Vero-Maghen for over six months now. The long winter would be drawing to a close soon—at least if one believed the calendar. It was precisely on this day that it began to snow heavily.

Thick flakes were blown against windows and walls by the cold wind, and after a few hours, a knee-deep layer had formed. Arvid sat at the common room window all morning, wrapped in warm fur, and looked down into the garden, where several students roamed in the snow. It was one of those days she felt lonely and strange and wondered if she would ever manage to leave the Shadow World again. She missed her mother and the security of her home. The snow reminded her of the winter of her own world and of Christmas, except there was no such thing here. Aleri had told her that there was something else, a festival called the Light Turning Festival, which marked the time of the year where the days slowly started to get brighter again around noon. Still, it wasn’t the same.

Her melancholy mood vanished shortly before noon when Thoke showed up. He was accompanied by Espen, and the three of them sat down to look at Arvid’s letter.

“There might be something,” said Espen, after he had closely inspected the writing, “but I’m not quite sure. If there’s a text hidden here, it’s been disguised masterfully…”

“And how?” said Arvid. “How can you hide something on a piece of paper?”

Espen scratched his head. “A self-sustaining illusion, perhaps.”

“And what’s that?” asked Thoke.

“It is difficult to understand if you’re not familiar with all the basics,” said Espen, “but it’s a kind of chain reaction. You let escaping residual energy from a collapsing image collide with static energy, which has to be saved in form of a depot, when creating the original illusion. It triggers an echo, which means that the original image is automatically reestablished.”

Arvid had no idea how to create something like that, but the principle was understandable. “That sounds rather complicated,” she said.

“Initialization is very challenging indeed. However, once the chain reaction’s running, it is extremely reliable and can, depending on the complexity, keep going for a very long time. Weeks, if the power demand is low.”

“And you think such an illusion lies on this letter?” Thoke asked doubtfully. “If it’s a chain reaction, one would be able to see something in between, right?”

“That’s right, there’s a little gap, every time the image is rebuilt,” said Espen. “But the gap can be so small, it’s practically imperceptible. That’s why I said… If this is a self-sustaining illusion, then it’s a masterfully executed one. However,” he took the sheet in hand once more and looked at it focused, “I thought I saw something at the very beginning.”

Arvid literally tore the letter out of his hands. If Espen was right, there would have to be a slight flicker. The only question was how clearly and where exactly it became visible.

“Have you ever done anything like this?” she heard Thoke say to Espen, while she concentrated on the paper and searched its surface.

“Yes, when I was in the Temple City, I tried several times,” said Espen, “but always failed miserably. What’s in this letter anyway?”

“No idea,” Thoke said. “We don’t know who it’s from.”

“I think I have something,” Arvid suddenly said. In the upper central area of the paper, she thought she had seen something, something like a fleeting shadow that passed over the paper and immediately disappeared. The other two curiously leaned over to her.

Now that Arvid knew where to look, she could see it again. “There!” she exclaimed, pointing to the spot. For a brief moment something dark had been visible, but it was gone again so quickly, it could easily be confused with the shade in the structure of the paper.

“I see it too,” said Espen. “That’s incredible.”

“What’s incredible?” asked Thoke. “I see nothing at all.”

“I’ve never seen such a perfectly executed illusion,” said Espen. He sounded genuinely puzzled. “My teacher in the Temple City was really good, a master of this art. But I don’t know if he would have managed this here. There’s close to no visible transition. And the image is absolutely perfect. No tremors or fibrillation.”

“Did your teacher by any chance have red hair?” said Arvid.

“What? No. Why?”

Arvid waved. “Not so important. The question is… how do I destroy the illusion?”

Espen scratched his head. “That’s a good question. We never really discussed this in class… But in theory,” he reached for the letter, “you would simply have to interrupt the chain reaction.”

“Or wait until it stops by itself,” Thoke added.

“Yes, in a few weeks the resting energy would be consumed. Honestly… this is probably the easiest solution.”

“Are you serious?” Arvid said incredulously. “I can’t just wait for weeks, hoping the text might eventually appear by itself.”

Espen sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t really help you with this part at the moment.”

That evening was the first time in a long while that Thoke and Arvid went for dinner together, where they joined Aleri and Enild. As so often in recent weeks, the conversation soon fell on the upcoming Light Turning Festival. It seemed to be a big and important event, in which some gods and patrons from the city would be guests.

Thoke explained to Arvid that the festival started with a huge fire. Everyone would write down a wish on a piece of parchment, which was then thrown into the flames. It was therefore called the wish fire. Actually, it sounded very atmospheric, but then Arvid learned that dancing was an important part of the festival, too.

“I definitely won’t dance,” she said.

Thoke chuckled. “That’s what I said in my first year. But there is an unwritten rule—at least one dance.”

“What if I refuse?” said Arvid.

“Are you crazy?” asked Aleri. “Why wouldn’t you want to dance? I love to dance.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Arvid said. “I can’t dance.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” Aleri said firmly. “I’ve taught you to write, dancing really shouldn’t be a problem.”

“She’s really good,” added Thoke.

Arvid was less than enthusiastic, but eventually she relented. If there was no way around dancing, it was probably better to have tried it at least once before.

Weeks went by and one day was like the other. It snowed incessantly, and often there were violent storms, so that the students were encouraged to only leave the building in an emergency.

In her spare time, Aleri tried to teach Arvid how to dance. Apart from that, Arvid spent every free hour in the library and worked through the dry records of the world transitions. She progressed very slowly. It wasn’t just because many of the documents were written in Old Jördish. Again and again her thoughts returned to the strange letter and the man from the orchard, although she knew it was a waste of time. She was stuck for the moment; still, she couldn’t tame her curiosity.

Was it just curiosity?

When Arvid was honest with herself, it was more than that. The thought of the red-haired stranger filled her with an incredible fascination. The way he had spoken to her, the hint of mischief in his voice, the natural precision with which he had created the illusion of the forest… and his eyes. No, when Arvid thought about it, it had not even been his eyes—rather, something in his eyes. At the thought of it, she felt her heart beat faster. This man had spent half an hour with her and knew more about her skills than anyone else at this school. Arvid wanted to learn more about illusions, because she felt that it was something she actually could be good at. The only thing she lacked was the right teacher.

Just as she toyed with the idea of giving up for the day and taking a break, the conversation between two students nearby caught her attention. Obviously they were black mages, because they talked about deforming and bending of various metals. All of a sudden Arvid remembered something she had almost completely forgotten, something that the redhead had said to her in the orchard: No one should know that she could bend the time. What exactly did that mean?

Hastily, Arvid grabbed her books, stood up and walked over to the librarian’s desk. She tried to act as calm as possible as she asked, “Excuse me, are there any books about time bending?”

The man looked up from his papers and blinked in surprise. “I very much doubt it,” he said. “If there’s something to read about it, then it’s in a book about magical gifts.” He pointed past her to one of the foremost shelves. “Right there, second shelf from the top, far left.”

Arvid thanked him and quickly found two books. The first contained nothing about the subject, but in the second one she immediately found something. In the last chapter under “Miscellaneous” a short section described exactly what she had been looking for.

time bending

Innate gift, extremely rare. Notifiable. Varies in severity as the main gifts (see also “levels of severity”). Average occurrence: fifty-two years.

Description: not bound to the general flow of time.

Arvid read the passage several times, then put the book back on the shelf. For a while she stood motionless and thought. What did that mean, not bound to the general flow of time? If it was true, that she could bend the time… did this mean that she theoretically could travel in time? Was that what she sometimes unconsciously did when the world around her seemed to slow down? And what did notifiable mean? The word caused an uneasy feeling in her.

With each passing day, Arvid learned less from her lessons. Since she could easily read everything now, she often retreated to one of the back rows and immersed herself in books. Were the general lessons still relevant for her anyway? It seemed to her that more and more questions would accumulate in her head, but she was unable to find the answers. She didn’t seem to get anywhere with her research about the world transitions, her own powers confused her more than ever, and she still didn’t know the secret of the mysterious letter. However, more than anything else, she was obsessed with the question of who the stranger in the orchard was, what he wanted from her, and whether it had anything to do with the letter.

Looking for clues about his identity, Arvid rummaged through countless books with information and stories about gods and their deeds. Not everything she read made sense. Some of the stories sounded like fairy tales, but were usually bloody and brutal and negotiated conflicts, demons, war and destruction.

From time to time she also came across stories about Loke. Arvid quickly realized why Coth had advised her not to believe everything that was written about him. Some of it was inconsequential, but a lot sounded strange or even downright terrifying. Some stories began with a touch of comedy, but often took a shocking turn, while others sounded so absurd that Arvid didn’t believe a single word. It was said, for example, that Loke once had murdered another god to bring Odin to torture him as punishment. Later Loke had described this as a unique experience—lightly and with a satisfied smile on his lips.

There was a lot to read about Odin, too. Almost half of the stories seemed to somehow have to do with him, but in comparison to what was written about Loke, they sounded almost insignificantly boring, though a few stories staggered Arvid in astonishment. She read that Odin had a huge, jet-black horse, stronger than twenty oxen. It was rumored that it was a cross between a horse and a demon; still, it was Odin’s pride and joy. Although he had tried for decades to cross it with other horses, he had never succeeded in breeding a similarly good mount. Where this amazing animal even came from wasn’t mentioned anywhere.

The Month of New Hope

It was a morning few days before the Light Turning Festival. Arvid had slept badly, because for some reason she felt sad and lonely and yearned after her home and her mother. When she simply couldn’t sleep anymore, she got dressed and sat down at a window in the common room.

The weather had improved. There were no more snowstorms, and everything was buried under a white layer. The sky was clear again and gleamed in the most beautiful colors. The starlight reflected from the glistening snow. Arvid had never experienced the Shadow World so bright and cheerful. It was the first time she felt a certain affection for this place and had to admit that it was beautiful in its own, different way. However, it still wasn’t her home.

When she returned to her room, her eyes fell on the mysterious letter which was still lying on her desk. She sat down and picked it up, as so many times before. She had sought the spot with the illusion so many times, she now could find the flickering within seconds. Whenever it occurred, Arvid could see a dark flitting on the paper, but it happened so fast, it was impossible to grab it with her mind.

Suddenly a thought came to her. It made her heart beat faster. If the gap between the images wasn’t so short, she would be able to see the text. Of course, she had always known that, but it was the first time that she realized what it really was about: time. If she had time to see it properly, she could read it…

If only she had more time…

Suddenly the scales fell from her eyes.

This letter was a test. It was a test of her abilities, and not her ability to destroy illusions. Arvid had to forestall the next appearance of the illusion, and she also knew she could. It wasn’t even difficult.

The flickering of the candles froze, and suddenly the illusion was clearly visible. For a second, there was a short text on the paper, then the perfect image of the empty parchment covered it completely, like soft snow on the roof of a house. Now the text appeared again, but although everything was happening infinitely slowly, she had only a moment to look at it.

Arvid grabbed pen and paper and began to write down the runes, one by one, whenever she could take a look at the writing again.

As soon as she was finished, everything around her normalized. The candles flickered again and threw leaping shadows on the wall. Arvid suddenly felt a strange weakness in her body. For a brief moment she was dizzy, but then the feeling passed and she looked down at the piece of paper in front of her.

Dear Arvid,

I found our meeting very interesting. Meet me at the Light Turning Festival, at the ninety-third hour at the extinguished fire.

Best regards,

The man from the garden

Arvid stared spellbound at the text. So that was what she could do. She wasn’t sure how she had done it, and whether she could spontaneously repeat it at any time, but one thing was certain: what she had just done was what they called time bending, and it wasn’t the first time she had made use of this gift.

From that day on, Arvid looked forward to the Light Turning Festival with almost as great excitement as Aleri and Enild. When the two, however, talked about what dress they wanted to wear that night, Arvid realized that she owned nothing but rags and school uniforms. None of it was appropriate for such an occasion, but fortunately she had received money for new clothes from her patron. Nod and Gerdur offered to accompany her to town the next day off, because they also had to run some errands, and Arvid accepted gratefully.

When she stepped outside the agreed morning, it was snowing again. The sky was overcast, and the darkness was supplanted only by the lanterns beside the door. Arvid was wearing her warm cloak; still, she was cold after a few moments. The wind blew snowflakes in her face. She could only dimly see Nod and Gerdur’s figures, as she stamped over to them.

“We better hurry,” said one of the figures, a young woman with long, white-blond braids. For a moment, Arvid was confused, but then she realized that it was Nod. It had been months since she’d last seen him as a woman.

“I just thought I ended up with the wrong group,” Arvid said, laughing.

Nod chuckled.

“That’s why there is the rule that shapeshifters must maintain a certain shape, as long as they are at school,” said Gerdur. “Else it would be too confusing. Shapeshifters have the gift to recognize each other, but for us, it’s difficult. Come, let us go.”

It wasn’t easy to walk in the deep snow. The narrow road was entirely hidden under a thick layer of snow, and only the lights to their left and right showed the way. As they left the circle of protection, Arvid felt such a strong pain she had to stifle a gasp, but she tried not to let it show. Meanwhile, she was well aware that she was the only one who was experiencing such discomfort when crossing the circles.

First, they went to a tailor. It wasn’t long until Arvid had found a beautiful dress in green and golden brown, which only had to be sewn slightly narrower. The tailor asked her to come back in four hours. Gerdur and Nod wanted to visit the public library in the meantime, but Arvid was planning to buy a soul gem. First, she had received money for this purpose; also, there was Thoke’s gift, which had touched her more than she would have liked.

There was only one soul gem dealer in Black Castle. The shop was housed in a small, dark building with thick wooden beams, but the salesroom was pleasantly illuminated. The light broke on the bare surfaces of thousands of soul gems that lay in long rows on artfully hewn shelves, which covered the walls up to the ceiling. In the middle of the room, a staircase led up to a gallery. Next to it stood another gigantic crystal formation. It was illuminated by the light of lanterns hanging from the ceiling, which spread distorted light spots in the room. Arvid was so fascinated by the sight that she only noticed the man by the window when he spoke.

“Welcome.” He was no longer young and had semi-long, graying hair and unusually dark skin. Arvid saw that his eyes were bright and of a striking orange color. But he seemed so open and friendly that Arvid instinctively dismissed this as a trivial detail.

The man introduced himself as Bennedor and offered her tea from a steaming pitcher, which stood on a side table. Arvid politely declined, however, and followed his invitation to sit down.

“Always take your time and pay close attention when choosing a soul gem,” said the dealer. “Have you purchased one before?”

“No,” Arvid said. “Honestly,” she then continued hesitantly, “I don’t even know what soul gems are and what exactly they do. I’m… not from here.”

Bennedor smiled. “No one knows what exactly they are. What is known is that a suitable stone can indirectly strengthen a magical gift. There are actually people who believe they are crystallized souls.”

Arvid looked at him puzzled. “Souls?”

“Inside the earth, they say, flows the soul stream. It is also called the Black Waters. It is said that the souls of the dead return to it and become part of it. There, the soul gems form and are then carried out into the world by rivers and streams.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“Personally, I don’t believe it,” confessed Bennedor, “but it’s a nice story, don’t you think? But it is certain that every soul gem has a kind of personality. It is important to find one that fits you; otherwise, it is completely useless—or even distressing.”

“And how do I find a matching gem?”

“Often I have a hunch where to start looking. Then you just try them, one after another.”

Involuntarily Arvid looked around and let her gaze wander over the many shelves. “That sounds… difficult.”

“It often is, especially among young people. Many don’t know the nature of their own soul—or they deny it.” Bennedor smiled. “It’s difficult to find something when you don’t know what to look for.” He raised his cup to his lips and took a cautious sip, while his reddish-golden eyes watched Arvid attentively. Arvid remembered having seen someone with such eyes before: Noldir, the god whom she had spoken with more than half a year ago at the city hall.

“Before we start looking,” Bennedor said, putting down his cup, “allow me to ask what financial resources you hold. I certainly don’t mean to be rude; I merely want to narrow down the field for our search.”

“Of course.” Arvid fished the little black leather bag from her pocket, and pushed it across the table to Bennedor. “Unfortunately, I don’t know how much it is. I am a student at Vero-Maghen; the money comes from my patron.”

Bennedor looked puzzled, but wordlessly took the bag and opened it. To Arvid’s amazement, he didn’t take out any money, but a small piece of rolled-up parchment. It was sealed with a small dab of sealing wax and prominently bore his name.

“I… had no idea that this… was in there,” stammered Arvid.

Bennedor unrolled the parchment and began to read. When he finished, he paused for a long while and stared into the air in front of him.

“What does it say?” asked Arvid.

Bennedor hesitated for a moment. As he looked at her again, his face was serious and tense, and something in his eyes seemed to have changed. “Something that considerably limits our search. Come. The gems that might be of interest for you are situated at a different location.”

Arvid’s confusion grew. She followed Bennedor to a small side room, which was dimly lit by a handful of star lamps. He lit some additional candles, and their light was soon reflected by glittering stones that lay on shelves lined with soft fabrics. There were not nearly as many as in the salesroom, merely a handful.

“These are special soul gems,” said Bennedor. “Extremely rare specimens. I rarely sell them.” He still sounded tense, in stark contrast to his carefree demeanor from before.

“Why?” said Arvid.

“They’re hybrid stones,” he said. “They combine two or more features, so their influence can be confusing and troubling. However, your… patron thinks that such a stone will suit you.” Bennedor looked at her searchingly. “Well, when I look at you like that, I’m actually inclined to believe him.”

His eyes sparked an odd feeling in Arvid. It wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but still very strange, as if he were touching something inside her. “Can you… read my mind?” said Arvid, worried.

Bennedor shook his head, then smiled. “No, I can’t do that. I suspect you are not familiar with my people. I come from the Islands of Ashes far to the northwest; you recognize it in my eyes. We see more than others. We can often recognize the essence of a soul… at least a hint of it.”

For the next hour Bennedor successively handed Arvid different gems and asked her to hold them in her hand and describe how she was feeling. It was an extraordinary experience. Some stones didn’t seem to have any effect at all, but many awakened feelings and thoughts in her, sometimes soothing, sometimes exciting, at other times even oppressive.

Eventually, Bennedor returned with a bright green stone. Its top half shimmered a little blue and it had two long, red inclusions. The pattern looked a little like a face.

“This one has a… difficult combination of features,” said Bennedor after significant hesitation. “But maybe you should try it anyway.”

Carefully Arvid took the stone from Bennedor’s hand. A moment later she looked at him, both surprised and intrigued. “It’s perfect,” she said, spellbound. The feeling the stone caused in her wasn’t very strong, impossible to describe, yet immensely tempting. It felt as if someone had removed a hazy veil from her senses, the presence of which she only perceived now that it was gone.

Bennedor looked surprised. “Glad you like it. But are you sure? It’s… really very special.”

Only with difficulty could Arvid be persuaded to try some of the other stones, too, but none of them was comparable. The stone with the face gave her such a pleasant feeling of security that she almost didn’t want to put it down.

When she left Bennedor’s store an hour later, Gerdur and Nod were already waiting for her and looked frozen. Arvid was also shivering in the icy wind, and so they were quick to pick up her dress and to set out on the return journey.

The snowfall had subsided, though the layer of snow was so thick, it was difficult to move forward. Their conversations soon fell silent, for they all were freezing in their wet clothes. Arvid looked forward to the warmth of the school and to be able to slip into dry clothes.

Suddenly it seemed to her as if she were struck by lightning. Every little muscle seemed to tense up and send a sharp pain through her body, so that she cried out and fell into the snow. Her body felt as if it was on fire, but as soon as she had rolled to the side, the pain disappeared as abruptly as it had come.

“Arvid, what’s wrong?” she heard Gerdur say. His voice was almost panicked. Arvid saw the pale, worried face of her friend appear above her. She lay panting in the snow, trying to comprehend what had just happened. At first she couldn’t find any explanation, but then an inkling started to grow.

“I… I’ve hurt my foot on something under the snow,” she uttered breathlessly, then pushed herself up and tried to make a convincing impression. Gerdur looked at her with great skepticism, while Nod just stood there and watched her with a strange expression in his eyes.

Of course it was a lie. She had not hurt her foot. She had crossed the new circle of protection.

On the day of the Light Turning Festival it seemed as if the school had transformed into a bee’s nest. Everyone was on their feet and helping where they could. All morning Arvid had helped Aleri put up colored fabric ribbons and place large, high jugs in the corners of the room and along the corridors, which were to be filled with giant, shimmering flowers later. “Everything has to be perfect,” Aleri kept saying, “after all, gods are to be our guests.” Aleri’s fixation on the gods woke a certain anger in Arvid, but she bit back any comment.

As Arvid went down the stairs to the kitchen, she met Thoke, who wore an ornate embroidered shirt and a dark blue vest. It had been a long time since she’d last seen him in anything other than a school uniform, and she had to admit that he looked good in these clothes.

“You’re not dressed yet?” he asked in astonishment and skeptically looked at the stack of bowls in Arvid’s arms. “The opening speech is in less than three hours.”

Arvid took a moment, but then she realized. Three hours in this world were less than an hour in hers. “Is it that late already?” she exclaimed. “I should probably hurry. Here.” She heaved the heavy pile of bowls in Thoke’s arms. “You take this, and I’m going to get dressed.”

“What? What should I do with them?”

“Down to the kitchen, fill with fruit, then back up,” said Arvid, then turned around and hastily ran up the stairs. She had been so engrossed in her work that she had not realized how much time had passed. Now that she was suddenly aware that the festival would begin soon, she felt terribly nervous. Would the man from the garden really show up?

When Arvid was dressed, she suddenly realized that she could hardly show up to such an event with unbraided hair. She hurried over to the washroom and looked at herself in the dim mirror. She had no idea how she could braid her hair properly, and she didn’t have much time left. Maybe she should try to make a simple side braid, like Aleri had shown her once. However, she had no practice, and the time pressure wouldn’t make it easier.

In fact, it turned out to be even more difficult than she had thought. Just dividing her hair into strands of the same thickness was a challenge. Again and again parts of her hair slipped off her hands or single hairs got caught between her fingers. She tried over and over again, but with each attempt the tingling feeling of restlessness inside her grew.

After she had undone the braid again at least a dozen times, she felt her hands gradually becoming numb. Her hair looked completely disheveled, and she didn’t have much time to keep trying. Anger rose inside her, anger at herself. Why had she not asked Aleri for help or listened to Thoke and learned to braid her hair weeks ago?