To the End of the World

 She would follow him – willingly – to the end of the world.

 The thought came upon her quite suddenly, almost – but not quite – out of the blue.

 Merla lowered her dusting cloth as she studied her fellow acolyte, slyly, trying not to let him notice.

 Algy had stopped working too, in the act of reshelving books on the newly dusted shelves. He was reading – or looking through – one of the books, focused intently on its contents. Dust coloured his hair grey, coating his shoulders and down his sleeves, too.

 She was probably just as covered, but he wore it better.

 Algy glanced up from the open book in his hands and smiled.

 Merla fumbled her duster and almost dropped it as she blushed.

 “Here, take a look at this.” He placed the book open on the table, pushing others to the side to clear a space.

 Merla crouched to pick up her duster. “We should continue. With – with our–”

 “We can take a break.” He reached over and tugged her closer. “C’mon, I need you to translate.”

 In the dim light of the stacks, Merla could swear her cheeks were actually glowing.

 “So? What does it say?” He pointed to a section under a wood block print of acolytes in front of what looked like a gate.

 Merla smiled, hands hovering over the page. Not quite touching, but closer. Although he should be at the same level she was – farther, in face, since had been here longer – she didn’t mind. It meant she was useful to him. She got to be his friend.

 “It’s… it’s old rites. The reverence. No.” Merla frowned, looking up at Algy. “It says the original?”

 Algy shrugged. “You’re the translator.” He tapped the print. “How do we do this?”

 Merla hesitated. “This – this isk something we do anyway. The reverence.”

 “Not in its original form, apparently.” He ran a hand down the page, studying the picture intently. “Imagine – imagine how proud they’d be, if we could bring them back this piece of history.”

 Merla squinted at the page and jerked her head in a flurry of nods.

 “So what d’we need for it?”

 “Oh, I – should we not take it up–”

 “No!” He slammed a hand down on the table.

 Merla jumped and stumbled away, pressing into the dusty shelves behind her.

 “No,” he said again, more quietly. “Don’t you think it would be better to give them it proper and knowing it works?”

 Merla flickered glances at him, studying. ‘Works’ was an odd word to use… the reverence was simply – it was purely to honour the arash’fe and ask their continued blessing. There was no need to know if it worked. “So… so we can show them?” she asked timidly. Maybe that had been what he meant.

 He stared at her, hot and angry. Then something softened – or changed – in his face and he smiled. “That’s exactly right.”

 Merla smiled hesitantly back. “It could take a while.” She glanced down at the page.

 “But you can translate it?”

 She nodded. “It’s old, but not all too difficult. But–” She studied the cloth in her hands, “We don’t get down here often.” And they were kept busy. When could she find the time to slip down here?

 Algy tucked the book under his overalls, at the back where it wouldn’t be seen. “They’ll never notice it missing.”

 Merla hesitated, but eventually nodded. The amount of dust they’d raised in simply walking to this section was proof enough that no one came down this way.

 Algy smirked and gestured for her to continue dusting, reaching to pick up the next book. “But in the meantime…”

 Merla nodded and turned to her shelf. He almost made her want to stop work completely and start work on the translation right that instant. Almost.

 The true followers would not be impressed if they left their task half done.

 She lifted the cloth once more and started to dust again.

 Merla was losing sleep. There weren’t enough hours in the day for everything she was expected to do. She wondered, fleetingly, if it was the same for everyone. But stopping to think like that wasted precious time.

 So she worked long into the quiet nights, often falling asleep on the translation.

 Algy ceased talking to her, even noticing her. Or maybe she stopped responding when the translation started to dog her every waking moment.

 If it got too much – she couldn’t let it get too much. She had to do this. For him.

 Her work slipped, and she couldn’t pick up the slack. He’d never given her a completion time, but surely sooner was better than later.

 Surely – surely someone was going to notice. She’d be set in front of the highs and asked why she was so distracted. What should she tell them? What could she tell them?

 Merla hesitated, then stopped. The writing stopped, decisively, about halfway down the… how many pages was it now?

 Had she finished? Truly and properly finished?

 Her hand was shaking. Setting her pencil to the side, she flicked back through her scrawl. Part of it were downright illegible – trailed off words, copious side notes, smudges and blotches – but it was all there.

 Slowly, she smiled.

 Someone placed the pencil in the centre of her book. “I think this is yours? It was rolling away.”

 “Algy!” Merla whipped her head up, then faltered.

 It wasn’t Algy. It wasn’t anyone she knew.

 Merla snapped closed both books in her lap, sliding the old, stolen (borrowed, not stolen, she corrected herself) under her notes as she stared at this new person.

 “I guess I’m not who you were expecting.” She smiled, white teeth flashing in a dark face. “I’m Rhiannon.” She offered her hand.

 “Merla.” She shook hands with Rhiannon. “Are you new?”

 “Not… exactly.” Rhiannon wrinkled her nose and gestured at the bench beside Merla. “May I?”

 “Of course!” She shifted, as if there hadn’t been enough space already.

 Rhiannon smiled and sat down. “I came here to learn. There are many secrets in these mountains.” Her mouth twitched, as if smiling. “And it’s good to be with people and somewhere warm for winter.”

 Merla looked up, past the shifting branches of the tree above them, to the clear blue sky above them. “Doesn’t feel like winter.” The seasons were hard to notice within the walls.

 Rhiannon laughed. “I assure you, it is.” She looked around them, at the carefully tended garden. “The glyphs about this place are strong.”

 Glyphs? Merla frowned, and took a breath to ask a question.

 “There you are!” Algy called out, striding towards them.

 Merla looked up, face breaking into a massive smile.

 “I see my girls have found each other.

 Something sharp twisted inside Merla at that, and she shot a glare at Rhiannon.

 “Not yours,” Rhiannon replied, unaware of Merla’s glare.

 Algy laughed. “Has she told you about our project?” He gestured at Merla. “The runes are a little beyond the both of us.”

 “I – don’t remember saying that…?” She couldn’t even remember writing that.

 Algy hesitated, then shrugged. “You’ve been so caught up, I’m not surprised.”

 “You said, I remember.” Rhiannon glanced between then. “Well, if you need my help...” She flipped her right hand over in her lap. A few, faint scars crisscrossed her palm. “I’m still learning. But my glyphs seem to be the same as your runes, so–” She looked up. “That’s why I came here. The history of glyph writing–”

 “Well, you help us and we’ll help you. Right?” Algy offered her a smile. “There’s something in rune writing about exchange, isn’t there?”

 Rhiannon frowned. “Not… really. That sounds more like–”

 Algy shrugged. “Whatever. You game?”

 Rhiannon sucked in a sharp breath.

 “How’s the translation coming along?” Algy turned to Merla.

 “Oh – it’s finished!” Merla sat straighter, preening. “Here.” She offered her translation. “It’s a – a bit messy, but… everything’s there.”

 “Ah, excellent.” He tugged the notepad from her hands before she could properly let go, and flipped through it. “How… how does tomorrow night sound?”

 “T – tomorrow?” Merla squeaked. That was so – she needed to check her translations – return the book – he couldn’t surely –

 “Sooner rather than later, right?” Algy looked up from her notes and grinned at her. “So we can pass it over in time.”

 “I’ll need a look at these runes, then,” Rhiannon said. “So I can get them right for you.”

 “Sure.” Algy flicked out a folded piece of paper between two fingers. “Meet at the gates, tomorrow night.”

 Merla squeaked again.

 Rhiannon took the paper and started to unfold it.

 “Not,” Algy snapped, stopping her, “Out here.” He glanced around.

 Rhiannon squinted at him.

 “It’s to be a surprise.” Merla gathered herself enough to come to his rescue. “So we don’t want anyone finding out.”

 “Oh, of… of course.” Rhiannon tucked the paper into her satchel instead.

 “Then it’s sorted.” Algy stepped back, relieving Merla of the book. “I’ll deal with this and keep these safe.” He waved Merla’s translation. “And you’d better get some sleep. Or rest, at least. Before our grand unveiling.”

 Merla smiled, yawning. “Of – of course.”

 He had already turned on his heel and strode off.

 Rhiannon made a doubtful sort of snort. “Where do you bunk?”

 “I have duties to get to.”

 “They’ve been… ah, shared to others?” Rhiannon said carefully. “Since you’ve been. Dropping behind for a while.”

 “A… how long? How long have you been here?”

 Rhiannon stood. “A week?”

 A week. Merla’s stomach dropped and she clutched so hard at her robe her knuckles went white. They had noticed. But then –

 “I think they assumed higher matters. When I asked, they said you had been spirit touched.”

 “Right.” Merla laughed shakily.

 “That happen often?”

 “I – I wouldn’t know.” Merla stood. “Excuse me. I have to go.” She all but ran from the garden.

 She was tense, all the next day. As if walking on eggshells. Were people treating her differently? No one asked any questions. She couldn’t bring herself to find out. If she spoke, got found out – had to explain –

 No. Better to stay quiet. Pretend nothing had changed.

 Maybe nothing had. Maybe Rhiannon was lying to get her out of the way, so she could have Algy. Maybe that was all this was, just jealousy.

 Yes. There was nothing else to it, nothing hidden between them. Rhiannon had only just arrived, what did she know?

 Enough runes to cover a square metre of mountain blood red with stark carved symbols.

 They glinted in the light of stars above them.

 Merla shivered and drew her extra cloak tighter around herself.

 “I don’t know what all these runes mean, Alger–” Rhiannon hesitated as she crouched over the last edge of the square.

 “That doesn’t matter. As long as you can write them out properly, we can do what we need to. Right?”

 Merla snapped her attention to him as he glanced over at her and nodded. “We know what we’re doing.”

 Rhiannon twisted her mouth.

 Algy walked over to her, dipping his head to talk to her.

 Merla felt something like a snarl rip out of her as she saw his hand rest at her waist.

 She turned away, pacing to keep warm. Who did Rhiannon think she was, traipsing in here and just – interrupting like that?

 They were perfectly happy before.

 Merla kicked at the ground.

 “Don’t scuff the runes!” Rhiannon called across. “I had someone do that once. Didn’t end well.”

 “What happened?” Algy’s voice was light, playful.

 “She got stuck with a demon’s face. And wings, admittedly. But – yeah.”

 “Don’t scuff the runes.” Merla stepped back, folding her arms about herself. “Got it. What next?”

 “We reverence the arash’fe.” Algy smiled, holding out a hand to her. “If you remember what you wrote?”

 Merla smiled slightly and stepped around to join him.

 Rhiannon stepped back out of the way, putting her brush back into her satchel. Her part was finished.

 Merla flicked her hair, straightening up. Rhiannon couldn’t do this with him. But… much of the translation had been done in a daze. “You lead, I’ll follow,” she said to him.

 Algy smirked and stepped one foot back, bending the other into an elegant bow, arms out to the side.

 Merla dropped into a curtsey.

 Algy looked up, and spoke words that Merla recognised only faintly but couldn’t follow, because…

 Because his voice had turned to silver, to sweet music, to everything good and pure about the world. Merla barely remembered to rise from her curtsey, struggled not to stare at him, as the river of his voice flowed on and around them all, enticing –

 She stepped back, slipped sideways, slammed her palms onto the ground as she fell.

 Rhiannon was at her side to steady her, but neither of them were focused.

 There was a star, a splintered shard of the sky resting within the confines of the runed square and crackling, opening like a gateway.

 They could neither look at it or away, but squinted, hopelessly trying not to blind themselves.

 Algy laughed and his voice splintered, too, the river running fierce about them.

 Rhiannon cried out, flung a hand to stop him.

 Too l a t e.

 He stepped onto the runes, smearing one with a decisive strike of his foot.

 Merla shook her head, eyes on his back. White noise filled her ears, but she could still hear his voice, steady and pure before her. She only had to… to reach out, to–

 Rhiannon yanked Merla’s hand away and pushed her back, away down the path.

 Merla tumbled only a little way before she caught herself and halted on her front. “What are you–” she started to hiss at Rhiannon.

 Rhiannon had bounded to her feet and pressed at the edge of the square. It sparked and pushed her back.

 Algy, in the centre of it, threw back his head as he pressed his hands into the star.

 This wasn’t what the reverence was supposed to do.

 A feral scream ripped itself from Merla’s throat as she threw herself against the square.

 The ground trembled underneath their feet.

 Rhiannon fell, had fallen, was – was pulling cloth and brush from her bag, was busy, was – this was pointless.

 Merla pushed and shoved at the barrier, screaming at Algy. As if he could hear.

 As if he had ever listened.

 “Please,” Merla sobbed out, one last time.

 “Move!” Rhiannon stood in one rushed movement, knocking Merla sideways.

 Landing badly, Merla coughed and looked up through dazed eyes to see Rhiannon trace a bloody finger in the air, sparking against the shield of the square.

 It guttered and died, and Rhiannon hissed as she stepped in, holding up her cloth.

 The humming droned louder and Rhiannon was flung back with a scream, blood arcing from her – oh.

 Oh.

 Merla closed her eyes, retching.

 A rush of hot air followed the humming, and Merla buried her face in the crook of her arm. Everything was breaking.

 The world was shaking, the mountain was – it had to be – there was no way–

 Rhiannon limped past her, right hand glowing silver as she brought it up to shield. A scrap of cloth – from her skirt, her cloak? It wasn’t too clear – was held between her fingers.

 “Take it,” she said. “Your place,” she spat out, shaking on her feet, “Is not here.”

 The star, the star – it couldn’t be a star, was it really them? Was it really the arash’fe? But no the reverence was not supposed to do this, what had he done what had they done, what had she done?

 Algy. She had to help him. Her translation, it must’ve – must’ve been wrong. She should’ve checked it over, they shouldn’t have rushed into this, this was all – all her… fault.

 Rhiannon dropped to her knees, slamming a hand hard – Merla could almost hear the impact of it – into the runes. If she said something, Merla couldn’t hear it.

 Algy was a faint, starlit figure before her. So far ahead of her. Was he leaving? He couldn’t leave, not without her, not like this, not… not now.

 Merla reached out a hand, creeping past the border line of the runes. She had to reach him, had to help, had to –

 Had to s c r e a m.

 Her arm burnt and lost feeling in one sharp moment, and she yanked it back to lean against her chest.

 The star blazed brighter, eclipsed everything, was everything there was nothing but white light and white noise, buzzing-buzzing-buzzing and

 gone.