Excerpt: In a Weary World

In a Weary World
by Alexanthra Beth Carroll,
penname Amalthea “Malathyne” Chryseis Chewe

Chapter the Zero: The World Says Hello

the Waver -- noun. Verb: the Wavering.
1. The tendency of the World to change.
2. The act of the World changing.
3. The magic of change; the magic that is responsible for the changes in the World.
4. The will of the World; the will behind the World; the will of the magic of change.

Welcome to the World. Or, rather, to be specific… Welcome to the Wavering World. It may remind you of your own world, whether it is blue and green, red and gold, silver and magenta, or urple and wilver. It is all of these, and none of them, simultaneously. How? Why, it is the Wavering World, of course.

It changes. It responds to your thoughts, your emotions, your desires, your fears. The world is as you see it, and so is the World. If you see positivity, the World is positive. If you see negativity, the World is negative. Because, after all, it is the Wavering World.

The World is not without its will, just as it is not without its sense of humor. Is it sentient? Is it a god? What is the World? The World is the World, and that is all anyone knows. It loves irony as much as it loves its people. Just because the World is sensitive to you, do not expect that it will always bend to your will. Because, after all, the World is not without its will.

However, the World, just like any other world, is also not without its laws. These laws are what remains constant despite the chaos of the Waver, and thusly they are aptly called the Constants by the people. Just because they are laws, that does not mean they are written out for all to see. The Constants are often discovered, and there are false Constants thought to be true or presented as true, but these will eventually be proven to be inconsistent in the end. After all, the World does not want people running around thinking it will do something that it will not do; who does? The World will therefore set out to prove these falsities in as humorous a fashion as it deems appropriate (and these fashions are guaranteed to be humiliating for those who, although knowing the Inconsistencies to be false, purposefully spread them).

The World is connected to other worlds, because it is its nature to be connected. Sometimes, natives of these other worlds will find him- or herself in the Wavering World, with no explanation or knowledge of how and why. The World will not (usually) help him or her find his or her way back (unless the timing was highly unfortunate for the individual, in which case the World may take pity and try to push them in the right direction occasionally) -- for, after all, there are two laws that would interfere with the World interfering. Constant One: “What is worth doing, the World will not do for you.” Constant Nine: “The Waver feels no need or obligation to explain itself. Figure it out for yourself, you lazy mortal.”

If, for whatever reason, this otherworldly (as the World’s people call off worlders) decides to stay in his or her new setting, integrates, and has offspring, these children will possibly operate also under some of the laws of the parent’s home world. For example, in the case of the first two children you will meet, their mother came from a world in which people’s consciences were made manifest outside of their bodies in the form of animals, and these soul-animals were called dæmons. Because the children’s mother has a dæmon, they, too, were born with dæmons. There are many similar cases to this, but often relating to different systems of magic and races and so on and so forth. How is this possible? Because the only laws the World knows are the Constants, and the Constants speak nothing against the laws of other worlds applying here. In fact, there are two Constants relating to otherworldlies. Constant Fifteen: “There are visitors from other worlds. No, the World is not going to help you get back and no, it will not tell you how you got here and why you’re here. (See I and IX.) Good luck.” Constant Sixteen: “Sometimes, rules of other worlds apply to the World and its people. Especially if your parent/s are from another world.”

But the World is not healthy, just as your world is unhealthy. You may hear of your world’s temperature rising, of pollutants in the air and water, of forests being killed and lakes drained. In these ways, your world is unhealthy, but those are not the ways the World is unhealthy. The World is unhealthy because of the attitudes of its people.

The negativity -- the sorrow, the anger, the bitterness, the helplessness, the self-loathing, the jealousy, the depression -- of the World’s people is slowly turning it into an unhealthy, unhappy place. The World cannot change the individual worlds of the people, because the World is sensitive to the people, and since their personal world is negative, there is an astounding, horrifying, saddening amount of negativity in the World. The World… It is poisoned. And no one seems to realize it, so no one seems to be taking action… except that is about to change, as all things in the World.

The stories contained in this novel are about change, about people, about the world, about life. This first story is about two children who learn that all it takes is a connection, a mouthful of words, a smile. “All it takes to what?” you ask. Well… Read it, and figure it out for yourself, you lazy mortal.

“How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.”
~ William Shakespeare

Chapter the First: Mary and Eliazar

My heart has lost its wind now, broken like a dead sail
My love has drifted out to sea
My body has been claimed, soul has been shipped away
Can’t feel the sand between my toes…

We set the wrong course and headed due north
That’s where we went wrong
We were young and learning, steady hearts hate turning
That’s where we went wrong
~ The Hush Sound, “That’s Where We Went Wrong”

Mary Emmeline Beckett calmly and neatly wrote her full name in the cover of her new little diary, then sat back to admire the work. She added two underlines, a tilde on each side, and a small stylish flourish. There, that should do it. She bit on the end of her nail.

“Stop that,” Eliazar said in her ear. “It’s gross.”

Mary made a face, but still dropped her hand to her lap. Instead, she chewed on her lip. Eliazar, in his favorite form of a gold dragonlet, shuffled his feet and stretched his wings. Mary reached up to pat his neck.

“When’re we going home?” her dæmon complained. “We’ve been sitting out here for hours.”

“I know,” was all his human said in response. Eliazar looked at her, but said nothing else. He knew full well why she didn’t want to go home, and even if he wasn‘t her dæmon, he would know. “I want to stay out and enjoy the sunshine,” she answered anyway, even though it was cold outside.

“… I know.”

Winter was arriving fast to her city of Nicander this year, and the autumn had behaved more like a rainy season. This day had been a fairly nice one, though chilly, and Mary was going to take full advantage of the weather. This morning, she put on her new cold weather clothes -- a fine white double breasted coat (with warm brown gloves stuffed in the pockets), an orange knitted scarf, and calf high tan boots -- and took her allowance and Eliazar with her (as always, as they literally could not be too far apart) to walk to the antique stores a few blocks away to go shopping.

It was then she bought her new diary (with its cover of soft blue and pale green designs and pages of clean white), as well as a kestrel-feather quill, a bottle of blue ink, a rag doll with black hair, an orange tabby kitten stuffy, three cute dresses (two long and one short, in colors of pink, gold, and white), a small hot tea (chai), and a trinket (actually a whale tooth necklace pendant sans the necklace) for her older brother. Now all there was left for her to do was to walk back home, but…

“I want to stay out and enjoy the sunshine.”

“… I know.”

Girl and dæmon instead sat on the edge of a wooden bridge crossing a creek, her legs dangling over the edge, dragon dæmon in his habitual position on her right shoulder. They sat together for a long while, staring at the creek and its grassy banks and the sky, which was beginning to turn like the tree leaves to red and orange and gold.

“Elia?”

“Yeah?”

“… I don’t wanna go home.”

“I know, Mary, but it’s best that we do. Kieran and Lina are waiting for us.”

That’s kind of why… Mary began to think, but she cut the thought off and let it die. Elia nuzzled her cheek gently. She sighed, chewed on her lip, and then reached for the cap to her ink bottle without properly looking at it. She fumbled for it and, in fumbling, accidentally knocked it into the creek.

“Oh -- ”

Elia leapt from her shoulder after it, but the little thing stubbornly evaded his claws and fell into the water, and it was too far downstream by the time he spotted it again.

Mary stared at it so far down the creek. “Drat. Now what am I supposed to do?”

“There’s no way we’ll catch up with it, even if we ran.”

Mary looked at her ink bottle sadly. “Well…”

“We could just leave it here.”

“What?” She looked at Elia, startled. “What about the animals…?”

“I think a person will get it before an animal.” Eliazar settled on the bridge rail, tail swishing. “It’s fun to think about, isn’t it?”

She looked back at the ink bottle again, suddenly thoughtful. After a moment, she murmured, “I wonder who’ll find it, and what they’ll think.”

“Exactly.” Elia smiled. “So let’s leave it.”

“Okay.” Mary got to her feet, dusted off her skirt, and picked up her bags. “I guess… It’s time to go home.”

“Let’s go.”

Chapter the Second: Kieran and Evangeline

I wanted something that’s purer than the water
Like we were
It’s not there now…
Ineloquence and anger are all we have
Like Saturn’s rings, an icy loop around me, too hard to hold
Lash out first at all the things we don’t like or understand…

And it’s beginning to get to me
That I know more of the stars and sea
Than I do of what’s in your head…
~ Snow Patrol, “It’s Beginning to Get to Me”

“Kieran, my boy, what’s the matter?”

It was a pointless question, really, because it was his dæmon who asked. But Evangeline was a clever dæmon and, like any dæmon, she knew her boy, and she knew how to get him to talk. Kieran didn’t answer, however; he kept his eyes trained on the pot he was scrubbing. Evangeline, while waiting for his reply, decided to groom one of her long jackrabbit ears.

At length, Kieran finally answered her. “Nothing, really.”

“Nothin’ more than usual?”

“… Yeah.”

The kitchen was silent again, save for the sound of the rain outside, the faucet’s running water, and the clank of the pot as Kieran set it in the drainer. Evangeline finished cleaning her ear and let it go, then shook her head, letting her ears flop around her head. It was something that usually made Mary giggle, because, to put it simply, it looked ridiculous. Kieran sighed.

“Don’t even say it…”

She said it anyway. “Relax, boy.”

“I said don’t.” He didn’t want to hear it, which was why she kept talking.

“She’s old enough to go walkin’ on her own now. You don’t need to hold her hand everywhere.”

“Eve -- ”

“She’s unsettled, but that just means Eliazar can change into a tiger and bite someone’s head off if anyone pulls anythin’ funny.”

“Eva -- ”

“Or a kangaroo, and then he could kick their head off.”

“Stop.” Kieran dropped the scrub pad into the sink. “Stop it. I know.”

“Then stop worryin’.”

“I can’t.” She’s my sister.

They’d been through this before. It never seemed to make a difference. Evangeline knew it would take more than her soothing and her nagging to ease his mind and get him to stop fretting about Mary as if she were his daughter, but she had to try. She had to do something. Part of him wanted to stop worrying, too.

“I just…” Kieran picked up the scrub pad again and attacked the plate he had been washing. After a moment, he continued. “I can’t help it.”

“You’re her brother, Kie. Sometimes, you gotta act like it.”

He flinched, but didn’t ask what she meant. He knew the answer: You don’t act like her brother. You’re trying to fill in as a father. It don’t work like that, Kie. And he knew this, but what else could he do? They were all each other had, and… and Mary loved their father when he was alive, and it hurt her to lose him. Kieran didn’t have any choice then but to step up and take over, take control, become the parent; she needed him. She needed someone to take care of her. And… Kieran never really stepped down.

Recently, Evangeline began to think that Mary was lonely. Kieran refused to believe it. Mary, sweet Mary, smiling Mary, couldn’t possibly be lonely. Everyone loved her; how could anyone not love her? She was fine, and happy, and not lonely. Evangeline would point out to him that she hadn’t brought home any friends from school, hadn’t mentioned any school friends, but Kieran insisted that she just liked to keep home and school separate. Evangeline countered that he didn’t know if Mary was the type to do that, and it was unlikely that she was.

“She’s fine,” Kieran said suddenly. As the dæmon is the projection of one’s soul, it isn’t uncommon for them to share thoughts. “She’s fine.”

Evangeline flicked an ear, mentally sighed, and decided to purposefully twist that. “Exactly. She don’ need you frettin’ over her so much.”

Kieran saw what she did there and frowned. He opened his mouth to retort, but then there was a knock on the door.

And by “a knock,” Evangeline meant “a loud, irritating banging that must have made the neighbors look round and wonder if someone was bashing their house in.” Well, that certainly wasn’t Mary; she didn’t knock like that at all, and anyway, she had a key.

“What the hell,” Evangeline said eloquently.

Kieran mentally agreed, but said nothing aloud. He turned off the faucet, set the scrub pad aside, and went to dry his hands. By the time he had picked up Evangeline and was halfway out of the kitchen, the godawful hammering on the door returned.

“We’re a-comin’, don’t get your panties in a wad!” Evangeline shouted.

Kieran blushed and placed his hand on her head in a quiet! gesture, but her outcry seemed to have worked, as there was silence on the other side of the door. With the positioning of her ears, she gave her human the equivalent of a grin. He shook his head at her, and then reached for the doorknob.

Chapter the Third: Unexpected Jack’s Foiled Expectations

My heart is on my sleeve,
My head is in the sand
I said, “How did we end up here?”
You said, “Happenstance”
And I didn't understand,
So I made other plans

And I ran into the ocean,
Washed the blood off of my hands…
I washed away my tears
Washed away ten years
Washed away the empty space in-between my ears…
~ Kimya Dawson, “Chemistry”

Jack knew that there were two kids, a lad and a lass, but when the door opened he did not expect to see the teenage boy carrying a rabbit. And it was a damn weird looking rabbit at that, with long weird-shaped ears and weirdly long front legs. To be honest, Jack’s first reactions went something like this:

Holy fuck what is that it looks like a rabbit is that really a rabbit it looks freaky.

What is with kids I know and rabbits?

Cutler’s son is carrying a rabbit.

I bet he’s gay. … Well, you know what they say, like father, like son --

It was at that point that Jack decided to, you know, shut himself up and actually say something intelligent.

“’Lo,” he said.

“… Hello,” Cutler’s son said, staring at him. Jack thought the kid’s rabbit was looking at him suspiciously, but that was a stupid thought so he ignored it. It’s a rabbit.

Well, this is awkward, Jack said to himself. He cleared his throat. “I, uh.”

“… Whatever you’re selling…”

“I’m not sellin’ anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I’m, uh. I’m a friend of your father’s, and I’m… well, uh.”

Now the boy was absolutely silent, and rather pale, too, Jack couldn’t help but notice.

“… uh. I’m here to, y’know, well…” He scratched the back of his neck. The rate of awkward just increased a tenfold, and it really kind of made Jack want to turn tail and run. But he thought of Cutler (hands over skin, mouths meet, tongues clash, taste taste pressure heat nnnCutler -- small rare smile, light forehead touch, sunsets, ocean, ships, just the two of us, freedom), took a deep breath, and finally said it. “Look after you.”

There was a long, frozen silence, and Jack suddenly realized he’d stopped breathing. He inhaled and the moment shattered. The boy’s blue eyes flared with fury and he then slammed the door in Jack’s face.

He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t been counting on that reaction, either. To be completely honest, he was rather stunned. What just happened here?

Like father, like son, he reminded himself, and goddamn did Cutler have a temper. And I never knew what I did wrong, either. There was a long pause, and, upon realizing something, Jack took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The kid has his eyes, too. Jack closed his own eyes and rubbed his forehead.

Well, now what?

Jack shrugged and knocked on the door again. There was another long pause, a muffled clatter behind the door, and then it opened -- and before Jack could even open his mouth, he was assaulted by an umbrella.

“Gah!” He flung his arms up over his head and instinctively took several steps back -- which was a bad idea, really, because it sent him to the edge of the porch. His foot stepped back on nothing, and he had a split second to react. Oh shit, he thought, and then reflexively grabbed hold of the nearest solid object. To Jack’s credit, he was originally aiming for the rail post, but the boy was taking another swing at him and Jack wound up seizing the kid’s arm instead.

Man, umbrella, and boy took a painful tumble down the stairs and landed in that order. It didn’t seem that any of them -- man, umbrella, or boy -- realized what had happened for a moment, and it was Jack’s brain that kicked into gear first.

Now, let Jack take a moment to stop and defend himself. His brain was all ready addled as it was, because not only was it used to being on a certain level of alcohol, it was lacking said alcohol and was very seriously contemplating nagging at him for it. The trip down the stairs landed him on the damn stone sidewalk, and he was pretty sure that he smacked his head against it. And, well, his brain was addled and scrambled and the kid looked a hell of a lot like his father and and and he is not a pedophile okay he swears to God he didn’t know what was going on he was just kissing the kid before he even knew what was going on oh God Cutler please don’t hurt him.

The World thought this was so ironic, funny, and strange (to put it nicely; others may decide to describe it otherwise) that in a dense forest somewhere far, far away, there was a sudden cry of, “Jhnyuyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyhy juuuuuuuuuuu.” Startled flocks of birds took to the air. Deer lifted their heads, twitched their ears, and abandoned their watering holes in favor of quieter, much more peaceful resting places. A lone hiker looked about her in curiosity, shrugged, and carried on with her life.

Back in Nicander, Jack fully expected to get slapped, stabbed with the umbrella, punched in the nose, kicked in the groin, just about any kind of violent defensive behavior that he had encountered in the past when he inappropriately kissed someone. He did not, did not, let him stress it again, D I D N O T expect the kid to fucking accept the kiss and open to him. (Granted, he opened to him slowly, as if confused, but the fact that he did meant that -- meant -- )

Like father, like son, the back of his mind snarked. Another part of his mind curled up somewhere and died.

Okay. That was enough. He was done, this was over, he was getting the fuck out of there. His brain was broken enough as it was, this was just too much. Overkill.

He shoved the kid off him, got up, and literally turned tail and booked it out of the neighborhood.

Interlude I: Kenefer

i was alone, falling free, trying my best not to forget
what happened to us, what happened to me,
what happened as i let it slip

i was confused by the powers that be, forgetting names and faces
passersby were looking at me
as if they could erase it

baby... did you forget to take your meds?
~ Placebo, “Meds”

bones twisting creaking breaking screaming blood blood hot thick slipping begging feathers ripping wings bending fingers groping digging screaming no no begging piercing thrusting Master Master please stop please don’t no I’m sorry please don’t please stop no no no screaming begging crying mercy Master Master why --

A scream lodges in his throat and his hands fly to his ears and clutches his hair and he wants to scream and scream and scream but no sound comes out there is silence except for Albel’s breathing and and… and… and…

Albel. Albel. Albel. He calms down. Slowly, he starts to calm down. He’s still clutching at his ears and his hair and his heart is in his throat and it’s hammering out of his chest and he thinks his wings are out and he’s trying to breathe, but he’s starting to calm down. Next to him, Albel is asleep on his side and breathing deeply. Albel’s gauntlet arm is still cast loosely around his waist.

Focus on the warmth, Kenef -- Kinu. Kinu, focus on the metal, and his breathing, and he’s right there beside you. Okay. You’re okay. Master is dead, he died, you killed him. You’re okay. He can’t get you. Even if he could, Albel would tear him limb from limb. Focus. Metal. Breathing. Albel.

As Kinu slowly comes back to himself, he realizes that he is sitting up. The nightmare scared him this bad…? Kinu takes a slow, deep breath, and slowly lets it out. He silently sheathes his wings again (magic, thank Aten for magic) and carefully, so as to not disturb Albel, he lies back down and buries his face in his pillow. To be honest, Kinu is surprised the man is still asleep; he would have pegged him for a light sleeper, what with all his time in the military…

There is a flash of fire and magic flare and blood and bodies in his mind’s eye, and Kinu quickly rolls over. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay. Albel. He is right there in front of him, his thin face restless under his messy hair. Even if he’s sleeping, he can’t just do nothing. He’s beautiful, and the strength of his aura is soothing. Kinu reaches out with still-trembling fingers and, lightly, brushes his bangs from his face, tucking some hair behind his (small, rounded, human) ear.

Kinu isn’t sure if he’s relieved Albel didn’t wake up or a little disappointed. He could have had active comfort, but then Albel would have seen him weak and broken again. He must all ready think I’m pathetic or something, Kinu thinks, but then something in the back of his mind whispers, But he accepted me back, so he must see something of value.

… And in any case, it’s very likely Albel would have been awkward and uncomfortable trying to comfort him anyway, and he might have just thrown a blanket over him and waited for him to calm down. Kinu smiles a little at that thought, though, and he can feel himself relaxing. Look, see. You’re all ready better; you’re smiling. Of course he’s “all ready” doing better. It’s just a nightmare. … a nightmare of memories, a nightmare of a terrible, illogical fear, but just a nightmare nonetheless. I’m okay. I don’t need him to wake up and cuddle me back to sleep.

That’s not his style, anyway. And that’s okay, because Kinu honestly doesn’t mind. It’s the way he is, and he’s not going to expect -- or want -- Albel to turn his personality around. I like him the way he is. Kinu has another urge to reach over and play with his hair, but instead he drapes his arm lightly across Albel’s torso and touches his forehead to his chest. Safe. Safe. Everything’s okay. Everything’s okay.

Kinu will fall asleep just as Albel stirs to wake later in the morning.

Chapter the Fourth: My Lover’s Daughter

It was one hundred degrees as we sat beneath the willow tree
Whose tears didn’t care, they just hung in the air
And refused to fall, to fall

Well, I knew I made a horrible call
And now the state line felt like the Berlin wall
And there was no doubt about which side I was on, mm-mm…
~ Death Cab For Cutie, “Crooked Teeth”

Mary’s father had lots of servants and friends when he was alive, and many of them got to know and grew attached to the children, and the children grew attached to them, too. One dear friend of Mary’s in particular went by the name of Kinu. A few years ago, he explained to her that he was a being made of pure life magic called a dolly. That was why he had long, pointed ears that could move like a cat’s or a dog’s or a rabbit’s, and that was why he had wings like a bird’s and could cast all sorts of pretty magical light shows. But he, he wasn’t like all the other dollies, he said; he could live longer than the rest of them and he could live without a Master, because he had more life magic than all of the others.

When Mary asked him why he was her father’s servant when he could live without a Master, Kinu laughed and touched the top of her head, though she wasn’t much shorter than he was.

“I choose to follow and work for him,” he said, “because your father is a kind man, even if he likes to say he’s not. He isn’t my Master, but I call him Kirti anyway, which is a term you use to refer to your Master. It’s like… It’s like saying ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am,’ or ‘Mother’ or ‘Father’ -- but when you say Kirti, it’s more like… ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa,’ or… It’s more like saying ‘friend.’”

Mary was young, then, and she didn’t quite understand what he was saying, but she gathered that it meant that he and her father were friends, and because of it, Kinu was almost like her brother. Mary adopted him heartily into her family, and was saddened heavily when he had to leave to travel somewhere far, far away in order to “do something for himself.” He was still away when her father died, and he couldn’t make it back in time for the funeral.

.~.~.m.b.~.e.~.k.m.~.~.

Not even halfway home, Mary ran into Kinu at an open air market fruit stall. It was Eliazar who spotted him, and it was only because he had taken to the air in the form of a cheerful bright blue-whistling thrush to help Mary pick her way through the crowd. The reunion started like this.

Suddenly, Eliazar dove down to sit on Mary’s shoulder.

“What? What is it?” the girl asked, startled by her dæmon’s behavior. “What’s the matter?”

Elia is chittering with excitement. “Nothing’s the matter, but you won’t believe it, I just found Kinu! He’s over there, wearing the green skirt!”

“Aaa! Where, where? I can’t see! Ohh, this crowd!”

“This way!”

And so with a flap and a flash of blue wings, Eliazar took off again, this time to show her the way. Mary followed as closely as she could, keeping an eye out for the sun on his feathers if she lost him, and within a few minutes she spotted the dolly.

“Kinu! Oh, Kinu!”

One of those long, odd ears flicked, and then Kinu turned, blinking. “Ah!” he cried upon seeing her, “Mary!” And he dropped his bags to seize her in a hug.