Chapter 32: The Mother’s Answer
Dorian woke warm, trapped and profoundly confused.
For several seconds, he stared into Toren’s sleeping face without understanding why it was so close. Toren lay facing him, one arm secured around Dorian’s waist beneath the blanket. His breath touched Dorian’s forehead, carrying the familiar scent of crushed herbs, clean skin and smoke.
Something warm pressed along Dorian’s back. He moved his head slightly and discovered Liana behind him, one arm locked around his ribs and her knees drawn against the backs of his legs. She held him with the determination of someone preventing an injured prisoner from escaping.
Dorian remained still.
Memory returned without courtesy. The Mother’s voice passing through him. Silver swallowing his sight. Her fury striking from every wet surface in the world. Blood over his lashes and inside his ears.
He remembered every word now.
He also remembered shaking beneath the tree while Toren and Liana tried to warm him. Apparently, they had eventually chosen the practical solution of pinning him between them for the entire night. Dorian lay quietly, unwilling to disturb either of them. It was comfortable. Disturbingly so.
Toren moved first. His arm tightened before his green eyes opened. “How do you feel?”
Dorian considered the question. “Surrounded. I had not realised near death improved my romantic prospects so dramatically.”
Relief softened Toren’s face.
Behind Dorian, Liana spoke without properly waking. “Do not be flattered.”
Her voice was rough with sleep. She tightened her hold once, apparently to make the warning clearer. “You would not stop shivering. We had no choice.”
“Of course.”
“Walker,” she murmured, “you are still valuable.”
Dorian laughed. The movement disturbed both of them, but he could not help it. Liana made an annoyed sound behind him. Toren closed his eyes again, though the corner of his mouth lifted. Liana released Dorian, pulled on her boots and left to check the camp.
Toren watched her disappear between the trees. His arm remained around Dorian’s waist. His erection pressed firmly against Dorian’s thigh. At least one part of him had enjoyed the arrangement. Dorian shifted his thigh. Toren froze.
“Your concern for my health appears remarkably firm.”
Colour rose across Toren’s face. “It happens in the morning.”
“So I have heard.”
“You could move.”
“I could.” Dorian did not.
Leaves shifted above them, carrying the smell of wet bark and flowers. Toren’s fingers rested warm against Dorian’s side. “How do you really feel?” he asked.
“My head is clear. Nothing hurts. My dignity may require further treatment.”
“You frightened me.”
Dorian looked at him.
“You were bleeding,” Toren said. “Then you would not stop shaking. I thought she had damaged something I could not heal.”
Dorian brushed the curls back from Toren’s temple. His fingers lingered against Toren’s cheek. “I am difficult to dispose of.”
Toren smiled and pressed his forehead against Dorian’s. For once, Dorian did not make another joke.
Liana returned with broad green leaves folded into makeshift bowls. Inside lay dark-blue berries, small golden fruits and something pale pink shaped like a twisted pear.
Dorian regarded them cautiously. “Do any of these kill Mirrorwalkers?”
“Only rude ones,” Liana said.
She had watched the birds and deer eat each kind before gathering them. In this world, that qualified as research.
The golden fruit broke beneath his teeth with a soft snap. Juice flooded his mouth, cool and intensely sweet, tasting of honey, citrus and rainwater. The berries burst warm from the sun, leaving his fingertips stained violet.
They ate beneath the tree while golden birds watched from the branches. Every creature around them had the same impossible eyes. Birds, deer and the smaller animals among the roots all stared through smooth mirrored surfaces that held the bright world around them.
Afterwards, Toren packed sacred bud into his pipe. The smoke smelled green and earthy, with sweetness beneath the bitter edge. They passed it between them until the morning softened.
For once, there was nowhere they had to reach. Nothing hunted them. No one required healing, rescuing or translating. Released from its fog, the world spread bright around them.
Later, they undressed beneath the tree and walked naked through the flowers to the lake. The water was clear enough to see pale stones beneath their feet. Warmth closed around Dorian’s legs as he stepped deeper, loosening the last stiffness from his body. Flowers drifted across the surface, carrying a faint scent of vanilla and wet leaves.
Toren stood waist-deep nearby, looking across the lake towards the animals drinking at the opposite shore. He seemed about to speak, stopped, then tried again. “There is no word in Common for this.”
Dorian wiped water from his face. “A serious failure of civilisation.”
Toren smiled faintly. “Vaelyn.”
Dorian looked at him. “Meaning?”
“Love. Care. Happiness.” Toren glanced across the lake, then back at Dorian and Liana. “All at once. Vaelyn.”
Dorian watched Toren’s peaceful profile for a long moment. For once, he was neither healer nor protector. Only the Forest boy.
By afternoon, they were clean, rested and dressed again. Their packs stood ready beneath the tree.
Liana settled on one of the broad roots and unfolded the Acalith map. She turned the parchment over and began drawing the deer that had healed Dorian. The narrow head came first, followed by branching silver antlers and the silver leaves growing along its back.
Dorian watched the image take shape. “Nature research? Apparently, you are equally skilled with a knife and a pencil.”
Liana bent closer to the antlers, hiding the smile threatening at the corner of her mouth.
“I have never seen one before,” she said. “Never heard of one either.”
Nearby, Toren gathered unfamiliar herbs from around the lake. He examined each stem and flower before pressing them between spare sheets for his herbarium. Afterwards, he wrapped the remaining fruit and berries from breakfast in clean cloth.
Dorian waited beside them, outwardly composed and privately preparing to bleed from several inconvenient places.
The world quietened.
Golden birds stopped singing, though none left the branches. The silver-antlered deer raised its head from the flowers. Smaller animals emerged between the trees and stood without fear, all facing the hill.
A warm vibration passed through the soil.
Flowers bent beneath no wind. Copper mist gathered among them, brightening in the sunlight. The Mother Drommala formed within it, blue and copper scales appearing one after another until her vast body stood beneath the open sky.
Liana and Toren dropped to one knee.
Dorian remained standing.
The Mother lifted her trunk.
He braced himself.
The vibration climbed through his boots and into his bones. His pupils vanished. Silver spread across his irises, swallowed the whites and smoothed both eyes into flawless mirrors.
No pain followed.
Calm entered him instead, loosening his muscles and emptying the tension from behind his eyes. His body felt distant and extraordinarily light, as if the earth had released its claim upon him.
The Mother’s meaning moved through his mind again.
“I have heard the need that brought you here.”
Dorian’s voice carried no accent and no emotion.
“A daughter of my line shall be entrusted to the Loteri. She shall walk beneath your sky. The buried waters shall know her, and life shall follow where she chooses to lead.”
Liana drew in a sharp breath. Beside her, Toren lowered his head.
“Her coming shall bind the Loteri to truth.”
Silver light moved across the Mother’s scales.
“The death of the daughter who came before must be followed to its source. What touched her body must be named. What weakened her life must be discovered.”
Her trunk curled towards her chest.
“If another’s will hastened her journey to the sky, those responsible must be found and punished.”
The leaves above them trembled.
“And the daughter yet to come shall stand above border, custom, pride and need. Steppe, Desert, Forest and River shall hold her life sacred. None shall possess her. None shall command her. None shall place desire before her safety.”
The Mother paused.
“This is my answer.”
Toren’s hand closed over his heart as he lifted his head.
“We receive it. Before the water beneath us and the sky above, we accept your answer on behalf of those who sent us.”
Liana’s face had brightened beyond concealment. Her fingers trembled against the shaft of her spear.
“Your daughter will be protected,” she said. “I swear it.”
The Mother went silent.
For several breaths, nothing followed. The world remained perfectly still. No bird moved. No leaf turned. Even the lake seemed to have forgotten its ripples.
Then the Mother looked at Liana.
A skinning knife rested in one hand, a freshly caught rabbit in the other. Warm stone pressed beneath her thighs as the familiar steppe wind carried the scent of dry grass and horses.
Movement shimmered through the afternoon heat.
A young foreign woman walked slowly towards her beneath a darkening sky. Blood covered one side of her face and soaked through the fabric at her ribs. One hand pressed against the wound as she forced herself forwards, one step after another.
When she lifted her head, her eyes caught the light like mirrors.
Without thinking, Liana dropped the knife and rabbit and ran.
The woman reached out. Liana stretched both hands towards her, desperate to close the last few steps between them. Their fingertips almost touched.
The woman scattered into drifting dust.
The Mother’s gaze moved to Toren.
A dark wooden corridor closed around him. People with shaved heads stood silently in two lines along the walls. At the far end waited a figure with the build and posture of a man, though deep shadow concealed his face.
The stance felt painfully familiar. Toren was certain he knew the man, yet each time he reached for the memory, it slipped away.
He walked forwards. The heavy scent of herbs and blood clung to the air while the quiet toll of a bell echoed somewhere ahead. Something sharp rested against his chest, rising and falling with every breath. As he passed, the people on either side bowed their heads.
The figure slowly lifted his head.
The corridor fell away before Toren could recognise him.
Finally, the Mother turned to Dorian.
He stood on a hill overlooking a dying city. Towers of glass and metal folded like houses of cards while fire swept through the streets below. One by one, the remaining lights failed until darkness swallowed the skyline.
Smoke, ash and hot metal filled his lungs.
A deafening crack sounded behind him.
Dorian turned.
A vast distorted mirror towered over the hill, its surface split by thousands of fractures. Endless shards poured from the frame, hiding the figure standing beyond it. He could make out only the outline of a body.
For the briefest moment, two violet lights pierced through the falling glass.
The mirror gave way.
From the city behind him came the scream of metal and the bursting of glass. The ground shook beneath his feet as buildings collapsed out of sight. The roar spread in every direction until it seemed the whole world was coming apart.
The sound broke apart first.
Warm ground returned beneath Dorian’s feet. Air touched his face. Somewhere close, water moved softly against the shore.
Silver withdrew from his eyes, taking the Mother’s reflections with it. Colour returned in blurred shapes before the flowers, lake and bright sky settled back into place.
Liana remained on one knee, staring at her empty hands as though dust might still lie across her palms.
Toren had turned towards the trees. There was no dark corridor around him, no bowed figures, only leaves shifting in the breeze.
The Mother stood before them, silent and immense.
None of them asked what they had seen.
The Mother turned away and began walking through the flowers. After several paces, she looked back. Her trunk lifted once, then lowered towards the distant hillside.
“She wants us to follow,” Toren said quietly.
Liana was already on her feet. Dorian fastened Lucky’s capsule across his back. Liana checked the bindings on her spear while Toren secured his herb pouches beneath his cloak.
While they were occupied, Dorian projected the map against his forearm. The trackers answered at once. He frowned. The entry marker remained exactly where it should have been, but the boundary around it had swollen until its edge disappeared beyond the projection. Whatever surrounded the crossing was now considerably larger than the puddle through which they had entered.
He glanced after the Mother.
Interesting. Potentially inconvenient.
Dorian dismissed the projection before either of them noticed and said nothing.
They followed the Mother across the bright landscape.
Without the fog, Dorian recognised the slope they had climbed after entering the world. Flowers covered the ground where the false creatures had attacked them, leaving no trace of yesterday’s battle.
Ahead, the land dipped.
Dorian stopped.
The puddle was gone.
In its place lay an enormous lake, wide enough that the opposite shore disappeared into blue distance. Its surface remained perfectly still despite the warm wind moving through the trees. Clouds, branches and flowers rested within it with unnatural clarity.
The Mirror Call remained impossible to separate from the world around him. It drifted through the water, flowers and leaves, and through the mirrored eyes watching from the trees, until every reflection seemed to whisper at once.
Dorian crouched beside the lake and lowered his hand to the surface. The water answered. The familiar sensation settled around his fingers, unmistakable now. He had touched this mirror before.
It had simply grown. It was already open. It asked nothing of his blood.
The Mother stepped onto the surface.
For several paces, it held her weight. Reflections moved beneath her blue and copper scales, sliding around her legs like pieces of another sky. Then the water began to accept her, first her feet, then her legs and vast body, until only her head and trunk remained above the surface.
Toren followed at once. Liana entered beside him without hesitation, water closing around their boots and climbing their bodies.
Dorian remained on the bank for one more breath. He stepped in. Warm water closed around his legs. The Mirror Call pulled gently through his bones.
Ahead, the Mother disappeared beneath the surface. Toren and Liana went after her. Dorian drew one final breath and followed. The lake closed over all three travellers.
Light fractured around them.
The reflection took them.