Chapter Nine

This Is My Hell

~*~

 

 

 

The Archive project was put on hold. Several Alchemists had been tasked with reproducing Kelvaran's transmitter, as well as other Artifacts that were useful for intelligence gathering. Kazia and Neiphi had spent two weeks copying out plans for the devices.

It was hard to stay focused on the pages at times, when Kazia's eyes hurt from weeping, but the last Artifact she'd tried to repair had been damaged when she'd gotten distracted into a reverie, and this work held less of that danger.

It also let her put off building a transmitter herself. She would rather avoid the memories that were sure to surface.

Her sleep was plagued with dreams of a burning house, and always Kelvaran's presence there, but never himself. She couldn't fathom what it could mean. She would wake in cold sweat, terror gripping the core of her, until the sorrow would set in once again and push that fear aside.

She was tired at work, tired all the time now, but had become resistant to sleep, and she was determined to do whatever she could to aid in Caedra's defense.

Kazia knew that she would never return to Valesk now. Even if the scourge that plagued her homeland were eradicated, she knew that it would never be her home again.

Late in the evening, Brandra came into the laboratory and placed a cup of tea on Kazia's table. Brandra had been torn between Kazia and Amelys this week, hovering over both in an abundance of concern.

“This will get you ready for bed,” Brandra said.

“I'm not-”

“Kazia, you can't keep going like this,” Brandra admonished. “I know it's difficult, but you must rest sometimes.”

Kazia nodded. “I'll be in soon,” she promised.

“I'm staying until I get you into bed,” Brandra told her. “Then I'll look in on the Mistress before I go myself.

Brandra disappeared back into the apartment and Kazia sat back in her chair, sipping the tea. She stared across the laboratory, and her gaze fell on the transmitter battery, the original battery she'd requested from Kelvaran, still sitting in its corner.

The memory of what she'd felt from that touch of his hand came back to her, but she pushed it away, shaking her head and rising to go into her apartment.

She lingered at the door, though, then went to the battery.

She ran a finger along its housing, then hesitantly placed both palms down on it.

He was there still, faintly as the battery was mostly depleted of power now, but still there.

She closed her eyes and leaned forward to rest her forehead on the battery, and the tears began to come uncontrollably, with bitter anger behind them at the unfairness of it all.

She looked up then, at the portal that still stood there in the corner.

She began to reach a hand toward it.

“What are you doing?” she said aloud to herself, withdrawing her hand quickly.

Would the portal even take one to a dead person? They hadn't tested that scenario, and Kazia was certainly not eager to land somewhere in Valesk.

She turned and rushed away into her apartment, where she made ready for bed and allowed Brandra to tuck her in as if she were a child.

It did Brandra good, she knew, and if Kazia were honest, it did her good as well.

 

~~~*~~~

 

The house was burning.

It was a large manor house, much like the one Kazia had grown up in.

It was winter, and snow blanketed the manor's broad green. She stood across this snow field, watching as the fire which had begun in one small part of the house grew and spread through other areas.

A full moon overhead reflected off of the snow to light the scene, and showed the smoke billowing from the house in ominous black against the deep blue night sky.

The manor's front door opened and a man and woman ushered a boy of about fifteen years over the snow to stand near Kazia, then the man ran back into the house.

Kazia went to see if she could help, but neither woman nor boy seemed to know she was there.

The woman tried to comfort the boy. He clung to her, weeping bitterly, calling out for his mother, who must still be inside that inferno. He tried to run back to the house once, but the woman caught him and held him fast.

Kazia looked around for others coming. Surely more help would come.

Then she saw him, standing next to an ancient tree.

“Kelvaran?” Kazia called hesitantly, approaching slowly.

He only stared at the burning house, unhearing.

She could feel nothing from him. Her abilities seemed obstructed here, but that wasn't having the usual adverse effect. When she came near enough, she grasped his arm.

“Kelvaran,” she said again.

He slowly turned his face to her, seeming to look through her at first, but then his eyes focused on her.

“You don't belong here,” he whispered. “You weren't here.”

“Kelvaran, what is this?” she asked.

He didn't answer. He had turned his attention back to the fire.

She moved to stand before him, to make him look at her.

“Why do you come here?” he asked absently.

“I don't know,” Kazia said. “I don't know what this is. I thought you were dead.”

He looked into her eyes, then at the woman and boy nearby. Kazia followed his gaze, and the woman and boy both vanished. Kelvaran's head turned sharply to the manor house again, and Kazia turned around.

The fire was small again, as it had begun. Again, it spread, and again the door opened and the boy was rushed out by the two adults.

“Yes,” Kelvaran said. “Yes, I think I must be dead. This is my Hell.”

“This is your family home,” Kazia said with wonderment at the realization. “That boy... that is you.”

“I saw them,” Kelvaran said, his gaze never leaving the house. “Before I was brought out, I saw them. My parents. My sister. They were on fire.”

“Oh, dear Gods,” Kazia said, reaching out to hold his hands.

“No!” he said, pulling his hands away from her. “Don't. Don't do that. If I should be punished, then let me be. You weren't here.”

He looked into her eyes, suddenly focused again.

“Why do you come here?”

“I think I'm dreaming,” she said.

Kelvaran laughed bitterly.

“You think this is a dream?” he said. “I've dreamed this my whole life. And now you're here every time, these past years... days... how long have I been here?”

“We heard of your death two weeks ago,” Kazia told him.

“Two weeks,” he whispered.

He seemed to lose himself in thought, considering this.

He grasped both of her shoulders then, and looked steadily into her eyes.

“Don't come here again, Kazia. This is my Hell.”

He gently brushed a tendril of hair away from her face.

“You don't belong here,” he whispered.

Then he pushed her, hard, and she was falling.

Kazia opened her eyes into the late morning sun streaming through her bedroom window. She lay still, listening to the clamor of life out in the bailey, trying to calm her shuddering breath.

Calm would not be had, though, and all she could do was to turn over and let the tears out into her pillow.

~~~*~~~