Crumbling of the Soul

By Meyari McFarland

The patio rippled under Ysan's feet. Two generations of drought had transformed the Library of Truth into a ruin.

Just like Ysan's life.

One slim thread of hope remained for the world. If Ysan and his friends could muster the courage to sacrifice themselves, time would unwind and a new path could be found.

One which prevented the Soul of the World from crumbling to dust, taking all life with it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MDR Publishing
• Release date: Jul 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370347933

Meyari McFarland

Meyari McFarland has been telling stories since she was a small child. Her stories range from SF and Fantasy adventures to Romances but they always feature strong characters who do what they think is right no matter what gets in their way. Her series range from Space Opera Romance in the Drath series to Epic Fantasy in the Mages of Tindiere world. Other series include Matriarchies of Muirin, the Clockwork Rift Steampunk mysteries, and the Tales of Unification urban fantasy stories, plus many more. You can find all of her work on MDR Publishing's website at www.MDR-Publishing.com.

Book preview

Part 1: Bringing Joy into the World

Two stylized leaves stems together

1. Tadpoles into Butterflies

Sparrow Mac Giolla Bridhde!

The bellow echoed across the herringbone brick patio with its limply flapping awning, past the potted rose bushes that snarled every sleeve that dared pass by them, and down the steeply sloping lawn to where Ysan crouched next to the pond's edge.

At this angle, he couldn't see more than the very top of the third floor where the dormitories were. The brick walls were painted red and green, a block border of white and gold circling around the top edge to the ceiling. Lower down, there were hints of the great vine and peony mural that encircled the entire building. It could be seen from miles away but not here, a dozen yards from the eastern patio.

He was probably hidden down here. Probably. Anyone coming to the edge of the patio where the roses waited might see the top of his head poking out of the cattails but no one further away would.

Well, maybe Dalitso might up on the third floor where the library windows overlooked the estate but Dalitso was guaranteed to be at the courtyard door of the library looking down from the balcony to see what new disgrace Sparrow had wrought on themself. Along with all the Elders with heavy books in hands and the administrators who would shake their heads, beaded chains hanging from their hats clacking with the movement. Given Sparrow's tendency to cause trouble in the kitchen, the cooks would already be there glaring at them. Hopefully not smacking the big wooden spoons into their hands to make Sparrow cry.

Someday, maybe, Sparrow would make it through a day without their name being bellowed at the top of their Elder's lungs but Ysan didn't expect to see it anytime soon.

Not that Ysan really minded. Sparrow got the attention they seemed to need. Ysan and Isi got to explore and learn and live their lives in peace. Sort of. There were duties to fulfill and lessons to learn but the elders didn't bother giving Ysan that much attention. Isi was always so good that they didn't get yelled at ever.

Isi got 'such a good child' and 'so obedient' and 'a credit to the Jedyunak'. Which they were other than the child aspect. Even Ysan could see that. Though Ysan was far more interested in the fact that Isi's shoulders had gone broad and strong over the last year and they'd added a good foot since they came to apprentice at the estate. Both of them were eighteen, on the verge of adulthood for all that Isi had yet to choose their gender.

I wonder what Sparrow did this time, Isi murmured. The little net they'd borrowed for catching tadpoles hung slack in their hands.

Who knows with Sparrow? Ysan said. You are sure there are tadpoles? I don't see any.

They were here yesterday, Isi replied.

Their eyes were, of course, locked on the water now. Isi was nothing if not completely focused when given a task. Granted, things like adulthood, learning how to properly reshelf books in the library and the difference between baking powder and baking soda when making bread were unimportant concepts to Isi. Which led to confused frowns on Isi's part and frustration on everyone else's part. Except Ysan's because Ysan was more likely to laugh than disapprove.

Ysan shook his head and held the little mug he had been given at the ready. If Isi said there were tadpoles, well, more than likely there were tadpoles. A few quiet minutes later, broken only by the sound of distant blue jays and the rumble of Sparrow's lecture up above, Isi grunted. They began scooping up tadpoles and depositing them into Ysan's mug. Twenty tiny plops later, Isi stood and shook off the net.

That should do, Isi said. They have enough water?

For a little while. Ysan checked and nodded. We will want to put them in a bucket with fresh water but yes, they should be safe for now.

Isi started back up the sloping hill, pausing to offer Ysan a hand when Ysan slipped getting out of the cattails. They continued up the hill hand in hand, listening together to the sound of the blue jay screaming in the distance and the Elders scolding Sparrow inside the mansion. Ysan breathed deep once they reached the top of the hill then sneezed over the roses.

Careful, Isi murmured. They caught Ysan's wrist, stabilizing the mug with its tadpoles. We don't want to lose them.

Ysan nodded a little bow to Isi, cheeks warm. No, we don't. My thanks.

There was a moment where Isi's distant eyes sharpened, focused on Ysan's face in the same way that Isi focused on learning a new task. Ysan's face flared hot and his breath caught under his ribs. Isi's lips seemed so soft, close enough that Ysan could feel the moist heat of Isi's breath against his cheeks.

Ysan leaned closer only to gasp as water slopped over his fingertips. He looked down into the mug of tadpoles. It was impossible to see if he'd lost any. They swam too quickly in the mug to differentiate them, especially against the delicate painting of a spider web that the potter had painted into the glaze at the bottom of the mug.

I almost dropped them, Ysan murmured.

That wouldn't do, Isi said. Their cheeks were pink, too, their breath a little faster, but they let go of Ysan's wrist and nodded towards the door. We should deliver them. I would hate to have us be yelled at along with Sparrow.

No, that would be a shame, Ysan said and chuckled even though something felt strained and wrong between them now.

It was as though that near kiss had changed something. The world felt off-kilter or perhaps it was only Ysan. Because Isi nodded towards the mug, or maybe towards Ysan's dripping hand, before striding across the smooth patio towards the door.

Ysan followed. What else could he do? They had a task and the Elders were already annoyed. Best to complete it as soon as possible.

Even though all Ysan wanted was to catch Isi's elbow, to pull them back outside where no one would see them so that they could kiss each other until the sun went down.

Tomorrow.

There was always tomorrow. Ysan would work his courage up and do just that tomorrow.

2. Foundations in Antiquity

The patio rippled under Ysan's feet. Two generations gone by and the once elegant herringbone pattern of bricks had been transformed into a heaved, broken mess of brick, gravel and up-thrust weeds. Mostly brown, dry thistles grown chin high with reaching spine-covered leaves that caught and stabbed worse than the dead roses ever had.

His cane was barely able to get a grip on the rough ground. Ysan panted as he picked his way across the patio towards the door that had once been so familiar. It, too, was transformed by time. Worn and grey, the green and gold paint worn off until only hints remained in the crevices of the carving. The door itself dangled from one hinge, guarding nothing. A threat, truly, now.

Behind him, Isi was silent. They had been silent for the last three weeks, all through their trip from the New Capital to here. Sparrow had chattered much like her old self though her once bright and cheerful voice had become shrill and sour over the decades. No beauty anymore, their Sparrow. She'd complained two days ago that her great-granddaughter thought she should change her name to Crow.

As if I would ever change my name, Sparrow had grumbled while poking the bread into a bowl of watery stew. Ysan was sure it was to soften the hard bread. Sparrow's teeth hadn't survived the last sixty years. Long and proud tradition in the Mac Giolla family, Sparrow. My great-great grandfather was Sparrow. Had two grand-niblings who took the name Sparrow, too.

What happened to them? Isi had asked in their whisper, voice like the slither of a snake through tinder-dry grass in the heat of the summer.

Sparrow had sighed, set her stew down. Dead. All the Mac Giolla are dead. Most of the Bhridhe, too. Two great towns and they're all dead. Hundreds of people.

That's why we're traveling back, Ysan had said. That's why we're going home.

None of them had replied. They'd eaten in silence, gone to sleep in silence, woken and traveled in silence other than the commonplace comments on heat, distance and the ache of old bones struggling to travel when all they wanted to do was rest until death claimed them.

As it would. That was inevitable. Ysan had only a few months left. The healers had assured him that the cancer eating away at his bones would reach his brain soon. It already was eating his lungs and his liver was nearly gone. Dalitso was no better, his body slowly wasting away as his digestive system failed to convert the food he ate into flesh, blood, bone. Energy. They were all dying, dying just like the land.

The land.

That was what hurt the most. He could remember this place when there was lush green grass, huge oaks with their broad-leafed canopies shading mossy paths. When the pond was more than a dry hollow with broken shards of cattails poking up from the cracked mud. No water had flowed there in years. A decade? Maybe more. Ysan hadn't been able to listen as the juniors explained, and how odd was it that Ysan was an Elder now? He felt young, still.

For all that his balance was gone and his eyes failed to read anything more than a hand's length from the tip of his nose, Ysan still felt like a child. He'd been so sure as a young man, so clear that he knew what life was about and where he should go. What he should do. Who he should do it with even though he'd never managed to get the bravery to act on that front until it was far too late.

Look how that turned out. Isi had gone, left the Library and Ysan behind, off on missions to other lands. Always searching for a truth that Ysan had refused to believe until the land began to crumble underneath his feet. Of them all, Isi was the only one who had believed that the Soul of the Land was dying. That they would all die with it.

Not as bad as I expected, Dalitso murmured once they picked their way into the central courtyard.

If you say so, Ysan said.

He couldn't see the details but even his poor eyes could see that the stairs were broken, too old and sway-backed to support weight. No way to go upstairs to the empty rooms where the books at the heart of the Library had once stood. They were gone now, carried away when the Library was abandoned.

The windows, once covered with brilliant stained glass that transformed all the rooms into rainbow wonders, were shattered. Shards of multicolored glass crunched under Ysan's cane as he slowly hobbled to the ancient olive tree that had once graced the center of the courtyard.

It was dead, of course.

The roots were bare, earth gone as if someone had dug it all out in a vain attempt to bring life somewhere else after the olive tree died. Pits lingered in the folds of the roots, sat sad and dry on the old, old retaining wall that had surrounded the tree. Ysan brushed them off, sat and panted as Isi stared up at the dead dry branches of the olive tree.

We used to climb it, Isi whispered. We would all sit in its branches and talk about where our lives would take us.

I know, Dalitso sighed. I proposed to my first wife here. She laughed and told me I was fool. Then gasped when she realized I was serious.

I sucked my first cock here, Sparrow said. She snorted when they glared at her. Well, I did. And then told him that I wasn't ever doing that without something soft under my knees so he'd damned well better find a better place for playing. He did. Much better after that.

Ysan laughed until the ever-present tickle in his chest became a wracking cough that made dark stars bloom behind his eyes and blood tinge his lips. So little time left. All of them had so little time. And there was little hope of success in their mad quest. Not without Nogah.

I'm fine, Ysan whispered once the coughing finally died down.

No, you're not, Isi replied, hand warm and comforting on Ysan's back even after all these decades apart. After the future that had never happened for them. None of us are.

He didn't come, Ysan said. Nogah. Without him…

Sparrow looked away. Dalitso sat on the retaining wall next to Ysan, his knees and back popping, the cracks as loud as broken twigs underfoot. Truly, Ysan didn't know why he'd bothered with this journey when they had to have Nogah for this to succeed. Isi sat on Ysan's other side, eyes on the far wall, the distant horizon that none of them could see anymore. Not that there was anything to see outside now. Just dry dead fields, trees long gone black and then white as their bark peeled off after death.

He couldn't walk, Isi whispered. Said. It was all the same for Isi since their throat went bad. Couldn't ride. Not that there were horses to spare for our mad quest. But he gave me his blood, sealed away in a glass vial. We can still do it. Nogah said that he would pray and give his life's energy to the spell when he felt its tug.

A life…? Sparrow hissed. He would give his life to this?

Isi nodded.

Five lives, Ysan said and didn't flinch when Sparrow glared at him. We will all die, Sparrow. That is the nature of the spell. We will die and be cast back to when we were young. We will have a chance to change it all. That is what we are here for, is it not? Nostalgia is certainly not reason enough for me to come see all this.

He waved his hand at the ruin of the place that had been his first home away from home, the Library of Truths. It had been so beautiful that Ysan had cried the first time he saw it. Broad walls spanning as much space as his entire home village, Roma, poor little Roma that had died over fifteen years ago. No water meant no crops, no life, nothing. Everyone had left and only the crumbling buildings had been left. Even those were gone now, bricks cannibalized by scavengers and the ravages of time and weather.

Their entire world was dying and the five of them were, perhaps, the only chance that there was for redemption. Isi had tried all those decades ago to convince the Elders that something was very wrong with the world. They'd seen it in the tadpoles. The butterflies. All creatures that metamorphosed from one form to another, just as people transformed as they lived their lives from children to adults to Elders.

Ysan hadn't believed it at first but eventually the truth was too obvious for even him to ignore. Even then, Ysan and so many others had convinced themselves that it was just this part of the world, not everywhere. But the water had dried up, the clouds had disappeared and the plants died. Animals followed until, now, so little was left, human, animal or vegetable.

It's hard, Sparrow whispered. She hugged herself. To think that we'll die. I wanted to think that it was just… going to sleep.

No, Isi whispered. It is death, Sparrow. Death and begging with our magic for the chance to make things right. We four will go back. Nogah… I do not believe Nogah will follow us.

He couldn't, Dalitso said with a tired sag to his shoulders that prompted Ysan to rub his back. He smiled, grateful but sad, at Ysan. The math I've done says that his soul will be sent onwards to the Gods. He will beg for us. We will have to convince him in the past. There will be no memory of all this for him.

Good, Sparrow declared. She glared around the ruined courtyard, the ruined world. I wouldn't want him to carry this. He was always the gentlest of us.

They shared a nod. Nogah had been sweet and kind and gentle, despite the steel core that ran down his spine. Nothing made Nogah bend. He kept to his path no matter what another person, even Sparrow, begged of him.

It worried Ysan because that steel might turn against them. There was little to be done about that, though. They would succeed or not. Either way, this life, this body with its ruined eyes, aching bones and lungs slowly corroding away inside of him would end.

As Isi pulled out the ritual knives, so carefully crafted in fires fueled by the many texts of the Library of Truth, Ysan found himself almost eager for the spell to begin. A short pain versus the long, linger death he was promised? It was fair. Just. Merciful, even.

You remember the words? Isi asked once they all had their daggers. Our plans?

Of course, Sparrow said. Do you know when we will arrive?

No, Isi sighed. I do not.

Close to the moment when we can make the most difference, Dalitso said. He looked at the knife in his hand, eyebrows drawn together in a fierce frown that transformed his weathered face into a mask of leather instead of flesh. We may not all arrive at the same time, Sparrow. Or the same place. It is possible that we could settle years apart from each other. But we will arrive where we can make a choice that will change the future for the better.

Ysan swallowed down the urge to gasp. He couldn't afford another coughing fit right now even if his heart pounded at the thought of not arriving anywhere near Isi. That. He didn't know if he could cope with that. Isi, despite their long separation, remained the heart of him.

He looked at Isi whose eyes were distant once more, focused on the far horizon rather than the here and now. The knife in their hand. The distress on Sparrow's face. Dalitso's tired sigh. Ysan licked his lips and reached out to take Isi's hand. He nearly dropped it when Isi turned to stare at Ysan with such blatant shock that both Sparrow and Dalitso looked surprised.

I… am a coward, Ysan admitted. I am. Great battles and political wars are easy compared with speaking my heart.

Your heart? Isi whispered and this time it felt like a true whisper, not simply the ruin of Isi's voice. I thought it was given to your work.

Only because you left, Ysan said. His cheeks heated as though he was a boy again, especially as Sparrow rolled her eyes at them. As I said. I am a coward. A terrible coward who was never able to reach across the gulf that existed between us. But. Perhaps having said it now I will be able to say it then, even if your soul does not return to the same time as mine. Because I will always search out the Library of Truth in the hopes that you will be there, Isi. I will always look for you.

Isi set the knife down, pulled Ysan into their arms. Their arms shook as they hugged Ysan as tightly as they could given that both of them were old and weak and dying. It should not have taken a lifetime for Ysan to say it. What had he feared all this time? Why had he hesitated for so long?

But then Isi pulled back, licking their lips, opening their mouth only to shut it again with a decisive shake of their head. I will not go to the Library of Truth, Ysan. That will likely be the choice that changes everything for me. I. Well. I regretted it. I had another path that I was offered and I did not take it. I would have seen more, known more, had more influence if I had taken a different path. I might have been able to convince people sooner.

Oh. Ysan curled inward, his knife pressing against his wrist but not breaking the skin, not yet. The Library was always my path. My choice was you. It was always you, Isi.

Isi nodded. Then find me. I will not tell you where I will go but I will not be hard to find. Learn. Study. Be the brilliant mind that you have always been. Then come find me. Together we will change the world.

I know where I will change, if I am right about my arrival point, Dalitso said. He smiled, quick and wry at Ysan's surprised look. And I will not be at the Library, either. I will be at Court. I will be a scribe and a translator of languages.

Well, everyone in the world knows that I never wanted the Library, Sparrow said with a snort as she crossed her arms over her chest. But that's not a choice for me. It's going to happen one way or the other. So you'll have me at least, Ysan. We'll make it work until we track Isi down. Mysterious to the end, you!

Isi grinned, as quick as lightning striking the mountains across the valley. They looked at Sparrow, then at Dalitso who smiled more confidently now. Then at Ysan. Isi raised their hand and cupped Ysan's cheek. Their palm had callouses from swords and plows, ink stains even now after their trip here. He smelled like dust, like blood, like life itself.

Find me, Isi said.

I will, Ysan replied, heart trembling with fear and anxiety and hope, terrible hope. I will be afraid and I will not be good at saying what I feel but I will find you. This I swear. Somehow. I will do it.

Then we should begin, Isi said. There is no more time.

3. Nightmares of Time

Ysan woke with a scream of terror that knocked his youngest sibling right off their shared bed. He stared around the dark room, his parent's home, Roma. It was a dream, a dream, the world hadn't ended. No, it couldn't be true!

But his bones ached with age that Ysan no longer carried and his throat hurt with so much more than mere screams in the night. He clutched at his throat as tears welled up, spilled over. Dead, he'd been dead and now he was alive and young and Gods, what had they done? What had they done?

Ysan? Munashe asked. They peered over the edge of the bed, eyes wide in the light that bloomed from Mother and Father's curtained bed. Did you have a bad dream?

Yes, Ysan said, panting. He pulled his hand from his throat, stared at the palm. No blood. No blood at all. I did. A very bad dream.

Mother peeked out of their bed, hair rumpled and coming free from the braid she always attempted despite her hair being too short for a braid to hold overnight. She took one look at Ysan and then slipped out of bed to come and hold him, to rock him as he shuddered through the tears and the shakes.

It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be. But it had to be. Ysan could remember