Girl of Myth and Legend (20 page)

‘I can’t imagine your father being the exploring type.’

‘Ha! You’d be right there. Recently, he’s become the definition of agoraphobia. But, no, he didn’t come with me. It was someone else,’ I say. ‘So, does Aris have forests like this?’

He doesn’t answer, and I sigh. I didn’t bring Korren here just to show him the view. I want to understand him better, but I’m not sure how to get through that stubborn wall of his. I feel like I’m playing one of my video games, facing the final boss who has way too many defences. I want Korren to
know
I’m not the enemy he sees me as, that I don’t really see him as a pet, or a kytaen. Maybe it’s because my mind can’t fathom the existence of kytaen or whatever, or maybe I genuinely believe him to be a sentient being. Either way, I want him to know how I feel. It’s just, it’s not something I can say easily. He’s given me no reason to want to be kind to him.

‘O’Sah told me more about kytaen today,’ I reveal. ‘He said he watches how I treat you and thinks that it’s
too far
. He asked me to stop, to show my authority. Quarrelling with each other apparently is a sign of being equals, which he thinks is “preposterous”. I
can
kind of see his point of view, though.’

Korren stiffens, and however fleeting it was, I undeniably saw a flicker of hurt in his expression.

‘But there was something bothering me,’ I continue. ‘He said they have no thoughts, no will except to serve their keeper. I dunno much about kytaen, but when I look at you I wonder how O’Sah and the others, even my dad, can think that. Maybe they were raised like that; you can’t chop off the hand of a thief if he knows nothing else. I don’t think O’Sah’s right, though. Maybe kytaen don’t speak for themselves, and maybe they really do only live to serve their keepers, but how can they have no thoughts and feelings when all I see in you is passion and resolve? So he’s wrong, O’Sah is. When I look at you, I’m certain he’s wrong.’

‘…You’re one of the first, then,’ Korren says in a soft voice. ‘Not that it changes anything.’

As we walk through the forest we come to an opening near the peak of the hill. Below us are hundreds of trees with snow-dusted tops, and before us that mountainous hill, ever rising, with its crown blanketed in snow.

‘Why did you want me to come with you?’ I hear Korren ask.

I consider him for a moment. ‘You’re so dense.’

‘I’ve lived for thousands of years; of course
I’m
dense.’

‘I’ll grant you that; you are an old sod.’ He glares. ‘But you can be a million years old and it doesn’t mean you’re wise.’

‘You sound like O’Sah,
preacher
.’

‘Sometimes he makes sense,
pet
.’

A moment passes.

‘What?’ he says.

‘What d’you mean,
what
?’

‘Your face dropped.’

‘I was thinking. I do
do
that, y’know.’

‘About?’

‘Well, I didn’t answer your question about why we came here.’ I take a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs. It would be accurate to say that opening up to a person isn’t my speciality. Nonetheless, I chose to bring him here wanting to get to know him, so it’s only fair he also gets to know me. ‘I guess I wanted to share something important with you. It’s hard to explain, but… I… OK, so this is going to seem off topic, but let me get to it.

‘Back home, I used to come to a place like this when I needed to be reminded why it’s important to live. It’s not like I wanted to die or anything like that, but sometimes… sometimes you need to be reminded of a reason, y’know? Like why you should get up every morning. Why you should bother with anything. When I went there it made me think that, sure, life is a downer sometimes, but it’ll be all right in the end, because sad things
always
come to an end.’ I turn my back on him, my cheeks burning up from so much
revelation
. ‘To us, that place was inspiring. Everything seemed to keep growing even though the world was against it. Kind of like here. We wanted to be like that, too. Strong. Resilient. That’s what that place meant to us.’

My hands ball into fists. ‘But in the end, even though we believed that, even though we lived by that, it wasn’t enough, was it? It’s not enough. To live, to suffer, to die: is that really all there is? I want to believe in
more
than that. Not out of fear for the unknown, but because I want to be able to know that it was worth something, all of this, the good, the bad, the laughter
and
the suffering. Memories don’t live forever. Even the ones I have right now are non-existent, a fabrication. All we have is the present. That’s kind of sad, isn’t it? So I want to believe that it won’t all be forgotten when I die, that life had meaning. When I went to that place, it made me remember how important it is to believe we mean something to this world, that we
do
leave footprints in the snow.

‘So, yeah, even though I can’t show you it, I just wanted to share it with you as if you could see it. It was a special place to me, and when I saw the mountains here from my window, I really wanted to go to them… with
you
.’

At this point I’m pretty sure I’ve lost him—I’ve been told I have a tendency to ramble, like at school when I made the mistake of thinking I was social, my friends would often call my rambles ‘famous’ even though I’m sure I didn’t even talk that much. So it surprises me when he speaks.

‘Why would you want to share something like that with me?’

‘Our soul-binding is tomorrow,’ I remind him, ‘and we’re going to be soul-bound for a very long time. I know you don’t want to get along, but since we’re going to be stuck together, let’s at least give a shot at being… good companions.’

He sniggers. ‘Think of me as a mercenary. You pay me with your soul energy in exchange for me risking my life to protect yours. There’s no companionship in this anymore; this is just a business contract, an assignment.’

‘There’s no middle ground for you, is there?’ I sigh and put my hands up in defeat. ‘Fine. I tried. I’m waving my metaphorical white flag, ’cause if you don’t mind me saying so—I kind of hope you will—you’re completely, utterly, a million times unbearable.’

‘I’m sure if you were in my—’

‘Blah, blah. Come on, I don’t want to be your biographer or anything. You have your reasons, I bet. I’m not interested in them.’ I hope I crossed my fingers in time.

‘Then why try so hard to be…?’

‘Contrary to what you may think, when O’Sah told me about kytaen, that I’d be meeting one, I didn’t picture a pet or a lackey to follow me. I didn’t think of a prisoner. I… I pictured an ally, a
friend
, OK?’

I risk a quick glance in his direction and see that I’ve ambushed him with my words. He’s had no time to barricade himself from them, and they leave an unmasked look of surprise on his usually impassive or hardened-looking face. I could almost laugh if I wasn’t embarrassed by his reaction.

I enclose my arms around myself. Since I’ve decided to share my soul, I might as well go all out. ‘I’ve been alone for so long, it feels, living in this
lostness
that I can’t seem to shake off. I’m kind of scared about going to the Imperium. I mean, I want to, ’cause I think it can make me feel whole or something, but it’s a big deal. I’ll not be Leonie Woodville anymore; I’ll be the Pulsar. It’s scary, and it’s scarier to do it alone. I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I’m tired of it. I thought we had that in common. I thought we could become friends ’cause of that.’ I clear my throat. ‘Th-that’s obviously not the case with you.’

‘Obviously,’ he says, and though he’s not blushing like an idiot as I am, he seems just as self-conscious.

‘But the reason I try so hard is that I don’t really know you,’ I admit, watching Pegasus roll in the snow. ‘You don’t really make me want to know you sometimes, but I feel like if I give up, then I’m doing exactly what my dad wants, and God knows I hate doing what he wants… and… and you’re pretty interesting to me, since I’ve never got to know a kytaen before. So that’s why I tried to be nice to you, why I wanted to welcome you into my life. You’re annoying, bad-mannered’—can I really call him that?—‘you don’t like me for stupid reasons, you’re harsh and unkind, and I may not yet be able to say whether I like you or not, but you’re not
bad
. You’re not. If there’s any good in you, though, I doubt I’ll ever know.’

It’s silent. I can’t look at him—too shy. Urgh. I strolled into uncomfortable territory with the one person—or rather kytaen—I certainly, absolutely, unquestionably did
not
want to stroll with.

‘What you said earlier,’ he says in a low voice, ‘about wanting it to mean something…’

‘What about it?’

‘What if your life… what if it was all for nothing? What if you did nothing to be remembered for?’

I think about it for a moment and then give him a grin as I tilt my head back. ‘Then I’d better make sure a certain immortal kytaen remembers the hell out of me.’

He looks away from me before I can read his expression. ‘Death is a mortal’s blessing,’ he says.

‘A blessing, huh? I s’pose you would say that. You haven’t got anything to lose. But I wonder: if I were to take away your immortality, would you be OK with that, down here with the rest of us?’

He remains silent.

‘I bet you wouldn’t think it as beautiful as you preach it to be,’ I say. ‘Death a blessing? Don’t give me that. Living forever has no downsides.’

‘You don’t know the burdens of immortality.
You
shouldn’t preach it to be a wonderful thing.’

‘Enlighten me, then. What’s not great about it?’

He observes me for what seems to be a long time.

‘A promise was made,’ he says eventually, ‘a promise that was supposed to last an eternity. It existed between the Chosen and Ehlmand, who took pity on their suffering. The spirit told these beings She would give them companions to protect them and live by their side, and all She would want in exchange is their happiness.

‘So now imagine this companion, a bird we’ll say, exotic, beautiful, and created from a powerful love that began with a promise. The magical being it adores is not its master, but its friend, and they live side by side as equals for many years. But the bird is naïve: it doesn’t realise the fragility of a mortal’s kindness, or the quickening of their temper, nor the malice and hate they can weave. The bird is made only of love, of trust, and so when their friend lays breadcrumbs, the bird doesn’t doubt them and follows their trail. Then the door of a cage shuts behind it. The bird thinks it’s a mistake and asks its mortal friend to open the door, but their friend doesn’t reply, as if the bird is no longer worthy of recognition. So the bird can’t escape, all the while wondering why its friend, who it has loved and adored and done nothing wrong by, would do this.

‘The friend-turned-deceiver then calls themselves master, and into the cage they slip nightmares to taunt and torture the bird. Over and over again, the bird must fight these nightmares for its master, despite their betrayal, and over and over it sustains wounds that would kill a mere mortal. Can you imagine that: having to protect the one who has caused you so much agony and despair, who took away the freedom you once had? The bird can’t die, though, not easily at least, for it is an endless being, and no matter how the bird prays to its god for an end to this torment, it remains trapped in the cage, its iron prison.

‘Hope arises when its master dies, and perhaps finally the bird, though much altered from its original, naïve self, can be free like it once was and live contentedly again. However, the door of the cage never opens, not for the next mortal that comes to it, or the next, or even after that—for all of time. The nightmares never disperse, the mortal changes face but never their stone cold heart, and the bird can’t die, no matter how hard it may wish it, no matter how many injuries it endures. It is forever within the grasp of its capturer, who treats it as if it were the most unworthy dirt ever created, despite the fact that it protects them from their enemies. Can you imagine that endless torment?’

His bronze eyes, which had become distant, now focus on me, and in them blazes such contempt that I shiver. It’s like he’s talking to more than just me, but to all of those masters, all of those cruel and unkind keepers over the years who he once believed were his friends. ‘You say immortality isn’t a burden and you may think it a wonderful, divine thing; maybe it is for those who have freedom. But if all your days are kept within this cage, with no way to escape, how can you call that
living
?’

His fists clench. ‘You say that you want to believe there is more to this world than just death. Well, look at it; it’s in front of you. I am
more than
death. I am the result of immortality. Don’t you think we want our suffering to be for something, that we want this endless pain to have some meaning at the end of it? We hope just as much as any individual, as any mortal. But there is a difference: we know now that there is no explanation for our suffering. We know our suffering has no meaning. Mortals don’t live for long, so they never have to face what we kytaen have to: reality, hopelessness. We live, we suffer, and we have no means of escape. That’s all there is to it. So why do you think we resign ourselves to being thoughtless, heartless creatures? Because in that despair we can hide away from the truth that there
is
no meaning for anything. That we are alone. That we have
nothing
to believe in.’

Flurries of snow drift past us, and the branches creak as the wind frustrates them. I stare at him, wide-eyed. He breathes heavily, then grunts and turns away from me. It’s silent after that; even the wind quietens down as if watching Korren.

Pain and anguish, the loss of hope, the loss of life. It’s all reflected in his eyes, in his words, as if his soul is peeking out and staring at me. I could never touch that kind of pain, unfathomable and dark and despairing, and I have the feeling that if I were soul-bound to him right now, I would be crushed by the weight of his misery.

I don’t know what to say or what to do, or if I should comfort him or make a joke or decide to head back to the temple. It’s strange how part of me
wants
to make him feel better, despite how he’s treated me so far. Seeing him like this, with his passion and his emotions screaming out with a ferocity I’ve never seen in him, I wonder if what I’m witnessing is a shadow of a person he may have once been, someone not dead and hateful, but someone ardent and resolute, wanting and yearning.