Chapter VI – The Insatiable Will

“What we require and what we desire are two separate things, yet closely intertwined: without the former, we cannot live; without the latter, we cannot be alive.”

-Klaudius the Drunk, philosopher extraordinaire and master of stating the obvious.

—

Exa stood still, studying the hallway which was barely lit by light from some outside source that shone through small cross-shaped arrow slits that pierced at regular intervals the wall she guessed to be the outer one. She could tell that there was dust in the air, both the flecks illuminated by shafts emerging from the holes and the ones that lightly teased her nose, but the floor seemed to be mostly swept clean by feet that left prints only at the less traversed edges. Although it was dark, she could see well enough, her pupils dilated to almost their full extent. The architecture itself looked old but sturdy and well-maintained, leading her to suspect that she was actually inside a fort or city wall, though it did not seem sensible to hollow it out.

Now that she had reoriented herself to this new place by establishing an awareness of her surroundings, her mind felt clearer and she felt nuances between the two pulls that she had sensed as soon as she had stepped into this passageway. To the left lay the one that seemed to tell her that she ought to go that way and it would be good if she went there, while to the right the sensation was one of need and foreboding as if bad things would happen were she not to follow that direction. Should and must, good or not-bad, she thought to herself, not very cheerfully but slightly amused nevertheless. Perhaps Takhris’ constantly playful nature was contagious.

As she tried to decide which mystical urging to follow, her ears informed her that they were still quite awake and hearing what were most likely sounds of sparring outside. Interested by this, her feet started moving to the nearest hole only a dozen feet or so to the right. Yet as soon as her foot rose from the cobbled floor, her thinking reached its conclusion: if she went to the left, something good would happen, and if she did not, that thing would not happen; however, if she did not go to the right, something bad would happen, and if she did, well, even then she had no guarantee that that misery would not manifest. Thus, she twisted her body, guiding her leg, suspended in mid-air, to the left rather than the right and as she planted it to take the first step toward what she perceived to be the more positive direction, the feeling of need vanished from her mind and the other string pulling at her heart solidified its grip on her.

She peered out of the first balistraria she came across and after a while of observing the armoured people clash against one another, she realised something shocking: the people outside were not training – they were fighting against one another, apparently trying and succeeding to kill whomsoever stood in their way. Having never seen a skirmish that was not targeted against beasts, Exa felt both fascinated and disgusted. The fighters surely had very pressing reasons to be so wasteful and self-destructive as to reduce their own numbers when they all had a common foe that wished nothing but their total and utter annihilation. Were that not enough, there was something weird she could not place her finger on about the soldiers that seemed to be moving closer toward her, though over fifty feet below. Before she could fix herself on that problem, the mental cord flowed in power and before she could consciously react, her feet were already moving her onward.

It did not take long until she came to face a wooden door without a handle, its massive hinges implying that it was not openable on this side. Running her fingers across it to get a better feel of it, she tried placing the handle she had come here with to the spot where it should have been on the door. Part of her was surprised when it melded into the hard surface, yet the rest had expected nothing less. Pressing a cheek against the door, she heard no one on the other side and judged it safe to open.

Beyond was an abandoned staircase, leading both ways at least for one floor, presumably to the roof and parapets and into the inside of the barricade. The guiding tug was pointing down, so down she went after recollecting the amazing tool made of scraps, stepping carefully to make sure she would not miss any sounds that might threaten her. Although she did not think there was nothing ahead that she could not handle, it would be best if there was nothing ahead that she had to handle. The doorway at the bottom was open, the door leaning against a wall and jammed in that position with a wedge, showing a armoury that had been depleted of all but scraps of mail some had neglected to take and a dagger or an arrow, hidden well enough by being on the floor or behind a rack.

As she was led through the long room, she barely noticed that her right hand reached out and snatched a lean throwing knife from somewhere amongst the debris. She knew that her recent lack of self-control should have bothered her more, but she felt content. She realised that the same thing that was taking over her was making her feel content and disinterested in fighting it, but this did not annoy her either; it was just a thought without any emotional charge in it. She quickly tied a knot in her open hair in hopes it would somehow help her muster enough energy to fight the apathy, not that she was sure it was worth it.

While these thoughts passed through her mind, her body wandered through deserted barracks, followed by a room with a desk facing a larger door which almost covered the daylight shining on the other side. Closing her eyes and pushing that door open, she looked at the courtyard after a few seconds once her eyes had adapted to the lighting. To her left, from whence she had come, a crowd was swelling at the gate. As her steps took her in the direction of the tall and sleek fort in the middle of the walled-in town, she could not tell why the melee was focused on such a small area because it would make fighting more difficult and awkward. Perhaps she would find out here, she thought to herself as she walked boldly through the main doors.

Even the great entrance hall of the citadel was void of life. Apparently everyone truly was at the brawl. Whatever the reason, it was not a concern of hers right now as she went up five floors in a side staircase. The third door on the right seemed to practically shine as the trail she had been following ended there. It almost seemed to open itself for her as she reached it. After it swung softly to let her comfortably pass, she walked to the bed where a very old male qr lay, wearing a crown of all things! The pull stopped affecting as her mind was flooded by both amazement and disgust; no matter what she had promised, it did not include accepting such heresy.

Before she could act upon her emotions, the qr king – she was astounded that she could even consider such a concept – opened his eyes and spoke with laboured breaths, “Ah, general,” he started and breathed to pause. Though his body was obviously wasted and nothing but shadow of its former self, his voice still carried the weight of authority. “I see you have changed out of armour. I must admit, I did not believe even you could help us crush our enemy this quickly, but already are you prepared for the celebration. It is wonderful that you accepted my eldest son’s proposal. Maybe I should just die away quickly so you two can rule together.” He coughed in what should have been a laugh but ended up as a fit that shook his frail body. “Much good I’ll do to the kingdom like this.”

During the qr’s long-winded speech, emotion drained out of Exa again and she touched the king’s hand, causing him to grasp at hers, squeezing as weakly as a baby. He smiled and while his eyes were closed for a longer moment, Exa noticed that the dagger had reappeared into her free hand, which first rose into the air – and then – she stepped outside of the room, closing the door quietly behind her so that the girl-child, also a qr, who was standing in front of the bedroom could not see inside.

“Hey, auntie Essie, is grandpa alright?” she said, clutching the fluffy toy she was holding. “’cause I heard noises an’ I thought he wasn’t.”

Kneeling with a smile, Exa touched the child’s cheek, leaving a red smudge on it, her wrist dripping dark drops on the child’s pink dress. “He is, he just spilt something and I helped clean up. But now I need to clean myself up, because Auntie Essie got herself messy.” The girl giggled at the rhyme as if it was the funniest thing in the world. In her defence, though, the Exa or Auntie Essie she knew was quite different from the original version, what with being not much more than a customised manifestation of this level, and she loved that one endlessly, almost more than her mother and papa.

“Could you be a big girl and fetch me a towel so I can get the worst ones off? I wouldn’t want to spoil a nice dress like this.” The girl nodded enthusiastically and disappeared into one of the other rooms. Exa sighed and stuck the handle into the wall next to the dead king’s door, stepping through to whatever lay beyond.