Penumbra -Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty
Time has its own way of passing whether it is convenient or not. Anjh moved impatiently about the sitting room, waiting for Jaithlym to join him. He was familiar with her morning routine: after breakfast, she would retire to her rooms for the daily examination by the Healer Pereginy, then leisurely dress and go to her office to begin the day’s financial gaming through her syndicate, the Akamma. He had sent word that he would like a brief word with her before she immersed herself in her work. Shortly, she would burst in the room in her usual manner, ebullient as ever, shedding her joy around her like a small sun’s radiance. And he must eclipse that glow with the news that early the next morning he would be boarding a floater and leaving for the Feneralia and the Pit of Archaos.
He knew she would see through any subterfuge he attempted, sensitive as she was to dangers that might threaten him. Sighing, he realized that it would make no difference that he had tried to prepare her for this day. Never in her life had Jaithlym had to hear something she didn’t want to hear without being able to alter it to suit her fancy. But when she had chosen to abandon her autonomy in order to share his bed, she had also surrendered her ability to influence his behavior.
He dreaded the conversation that awaited him when she emerged. Against his will, he seemed to have permitted her to become an important part of his life. His original feeling of gratitude for her unflinching acceptance of his physical anomalies had grown and matured into an easy dependency on her companionship and her unwavering devotion. It had been Jaithlym who had motivated him when he was in despair, who had given him the impetus to begin to fully participate in life again and who now carried his two sons - that unexpected miracle which comforted him as he prepared for his fate. The others of the household who were entitled to know his plans had already been informed so he had no excuse to further postpone this most difficult interview of them all. Dropping into the big chair near the window, he propped his head in his hands and considered how to say what must be said.
Perhaps it would be better to wait until the night, to leave Jaithlym to the pleasures of her day and not cast this shadow on her happiness. Pillow talk was always less contentious than hard facts faced in the cold light of a gloomy day. He reluctantly set aside the temptation to postpone the conversation as unacceptably cowardly and looked up to see her before him, glowing with health and cheer.
“Jaithlym, you are lovely this morning. Did Pereginy give you a gold star of approval?’ He held out his hand to her.
“I continue to do incredibly well, Anjh, and you? And why are you still up here so late in the day?” She was not easily deceived and anything out of the ordinary aroused her lightly slumbering suspicions.
“Are you unhappy to see me?”
“You know better than that; but you’re usually in the training rooms or plotting with your kinsmen at this hour. So, is something wrong?”
Anjh drew her down beside him in the oversized chair. “I have to tell you something and I want you to listen and be sensible.”
She straightened up and pushed against him, “You’re going away! Aren’t you? You’re leaving me and going off to kill yourself!”
“I’m going away, yes; I must. I’ve accepted the mission to destroy whatever's in the Pit of Archaos; my courage was questioned and that couldn’t be tolerated, so I’m going to the Feneralia. As to killing myself, you know perfectly well that Prydain aren’t permitted that escape...”
“You’re mincing words. I know that you can’t do it straight out but you can put yourself in a position where it will happen - I’ve asked questions and read books. Don’t lie to me... I know you’re going to try to die out there and I don’t understand it. Anjh, why do you want to die before you even see your sons?”
He scowled, “I’ve answered that question before; I will not explain myself again. And, about my sons, you’re making a foolish argument. At best, I would only see them for the brief time it would take me to carry them from the birthing room to the custody of their caregivers and all babies look alike, so I’m not missing much. Besides, Prydain children need heroes not limping short-sighted cowards.”
“They need a father who’s alive not a grandly superhuman memory made out of somebody else’s expectations. They need more than a myth or a legend.”
He lowered his head, glaring at her over his spectacles, “I am the better judge of the needs of my progeny. I will not saddle them with a disgraced sire who traded his honor for an existence as a craven cripple... Jaithlym, let’s not quarrel; I leave tomorrow at sun-rise.”
She sprang to her feet wailing, “Tomorrow morning? I can’t bear this; there’s not enough time. Anjh ... Anjh, don’t do this - come with me. My island will shelter us; there’ll be a place for us to keep away from all this turmoil. Come with me and let’s live there together with our family and make a new society. We could raise our sons to be tall and brave like you and we could be happy...”
“Stop! Are you totally out of your mind? You made a promise when you agreed to bear my children and now you’re ready to break it just to satisfy your own whims? Do you Lilar have no honor of your own? You try to seduce me from my sworn duty and now threaten to subvert my plans for my sons. What’s wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t understand how you can be so selfish as to do this thing. Everybody on Junonia knows that you are fairly overburdened with honor, that you are the bravest man who ever faced Archaos ...”
“And lost.”
“Not lost, not running away. You fell defending the Beldame - how much more honorable an end could you have made?”
“I could have made an end. Not bargained for a life like this,” he gestured at himself with his good hand.
Jaithlym sniffed, “And who did this bargaining? It certainly wasn’t you; you’ve done everything you can since that day to undo the decisions made for your benefit, to die without violating the stupid, rigid Prydain rules.”
“You know nothing about my race and its reasons. Stick to your Lilar money-grubbing and don’t criticize your betters. All I expect from you is that you will keep your oath and protect my sons.”
She fell to the floor and clutched his knees, “Anjh, I love you more than life and I want things to stay like they are. I want to live with you until we are both old and I want to see our children grow up and flourish. Is that so abnormal?”
“Abnormal? I don’t know. I don’t know exactly what normal is anymore. Nothing has seemed right since my resurrection. I know I must finish this... That’s all.”
“It can’t be all. It wasn’t easy to reclaim your life. Don’t throw it away to prove something to a Laimak who isn’t fit to touch your sword.”
“Can you seriously think this is because of Caffolas and his opinion of me? My father cursed me. Try very hard to understand that; I’ve been trying to wipe out the memory for fourteen years... You can’t know what it’s like to hear yourself called coward by your father - you’re neither Prydain nor a Warrior. It’s not possible to outrun a memory like that but I’ve tried.
“You know what happened on Mount Nothscar ... Oh, I was so brave, such a self-sacrificing hero. Jaithlym, I was trying to die. If I saved the Beldame - fine - but my purpose was to die. And I did die - I did it, I reached my goal... Ah, why couldn’t they leave me alone? You were there; you helped them do this thing, this so-called resurrection. Now - look at me, look at what you’ve made, what you’ve paid for. Can’t you understand that I can’t live like this?” He lunged from the chair, looming over her.
“Anjh, I couldn’t know that it would be this way, that it would be so hard for you. But I don’t regret for an instant what I did and that you are here. I love you...”
“What’s your concept of love but selfishness? You said you wanted my body - you’ve had it. Was it worth it? Do you think you got a bargain?”
“It was more than worth it. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Please, stop this. I just want you to live.” His words struck her like whips, flaying her as she helplessly raised her arms against them.
He limped to the balcony and leaned against the railing, “I know, I know... Forgive me; sometimes my frustration puts cruel words in my mouth.”
He looked down at the street three floors below. “It might be easier not to try for the Feneralia - just do it here. I’ve gone so far from Prydain teaching not to balk at the last fence.”
Jaithlym sprang to her feet, shrieking and, digging her fingers into his sleeve, tugged him back from the drop. “Don’t! Anjh, don’t!” Her eyes were wild with fear.
“Small danger - I find in spite of everything I’m still too conventional to shatter all my racial taboos. That was a foolish theatrical thing for me to say and I beg your pardon. No, I’ll go to the cave and meet whatever waits me there. This time, I’ll get it done. This time will pay all; I swear it. And remember,” he said more quietly, “you are carrying my legacy, my genes. You must be careful in your actions and emotions; these sons you bear are my only future. Protect them.”
Jaithlym stood facing him, her hands clenched into fists, the nails cutting her palms, “Will we at least have tonight?”
“Yes.” He did not look at her again but turned to the lift and solitude.
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Anjh lay stretched out on the couch in his meditation room on the second floor. The interview with Jaithlym had been much worse than he had feared. Now, self-exiled in this room until the day had passed, he was isolated with his increasingly morose thoughts.
He knew he had acted badly when he snapped at Jaithlym. He almost always regretted his intemperate words once they were past recalling but he had said nothing that was not the truth. She had been a partner in the decision to repeal his death, to burden him with this intolerable life. He had been rightly horrified when he woke to discover what had been done to him, then when Naufrage had prevailed over him in the hospital and forced him to accept his fate for at least a while, he had tried to reconcile himself to what he could not change. Over the months that had passed, Anjh believed he had given a fair trial to living with the loathsome appendages the Ordmun had grafted onto him. He had tried and sometimes thought he might succeed in existing like this but in the end he found he could not. His very helplessness in the face of the immutable facts imposed upon his person infuriated him.
He pushed himself upright and pounded the cane against the floor, creating not the deafening crash he wanted but an infuriatingly feeble thump. The faint glitter of the mechanical arm and leg mocked him in the dim light of the room. The urge to once again rip them from his body and bleed to death alone on the floor of this sanctuary was almost overwhelming until the recollection of the humiliating aftermath of his earlier attempt at that intervened. His gorge rose and he retched dryly when he thought of the other things that the Ordmun had installed not onto him but actually inside him - the heart, the lung, the artificial bones - all the parts that separated him from what he had been and had compelled him to live beyond his death.
What did resurrection require of the resurrected? The question Harad had posed him in this very room remained unanswered. He had chosen to offer his life on Mount Nothscar only to have it returned to him like an unwanted bequest leaving his honor still unredeemed, his expiation incomplete. That a second chance for life - however undesired - had been given him was a reality that was not obscured by his bitter resentment of the conditions of that gift. He saw it as a punishment, not an opportunity. Restively struggling to his feet, Anjh limped to his desk and collapsed heavily into the chair behind it. He planted his elbows on the surface and dropped his chin on his clasped hands. The books he had studied with such hungry joy in his youth came back to him in parts and sections. He had been an idealist back then when the world had seemed a glittering prize to be won and its intoxicating treasures savored. So many choices, so many dreams. He had not yet learned that the choosing itself narrowed the alternatives until they finally came down to one. Only one path left.
Could he have walked that path differently, taken different turnings? It occurred to him that the full use of a new life might well entail the reliving of all the experiences of the old - going through the same traumas, exploiting the same opportunities - but altering them so as to force different conclusions. It might even offer the chance of changing bad decisions made because of incomplete or incorrect information. With a twist of his lips, he rejected the option of replaying more than three decades of living in the hope of making the ending come out better.
Then again, perhaps if he had not been so stubborn in his refusal to gracefully accept the immensity of the miracle the Ordmun had offered him, he would not be having dreams and memories that haunted him as they did. Well, it was done now; he had made the choices that had seemed correct and inevitable and they could not be changed now even if he wanted to. The best outcome now would be to end all the metaphysical and phantasmal torments by dying. That would be a fair trade-off.
This thought led Anjh to the heart of his dilemma, the center of his maze. He had no doubt of his desire to die; still there remained something, an impulse he couldn’t recognize, that argued in favor of existence. It was as though two wrestlers grappled in his mind, each trying for the advantage while he observed helplessly from outside. He wondered if he was sliding into madness, if he...
Anjh cried out inadvertently as racking pangs shot through the left half of his body. Months ago, in the hospital, the Ordmun had assured him that the sensation in what they called ‘phantom limbs’ would gradually ease and eventually stop altogether. They had been wrong. He frequently felt as if he were living in two bodies, one only half feeling, the other sensitized beyond endurance by constant attack. Even without the pervasive sense of guilt that bedeviled him, he was sure that he could not continue to survive under these conditions. For a time, Jaithlym's caresses had soothed him but now not even her touch could help. If this continued, he would soon be reduced to a whimpering heap of flesh and metal pleading with a sympathetic friend to end his wretchedness. He clutched at the mechart arm as though squeezing it would alleviate the stabbing, tearing sensations that tormented him. Groans forced their way though his clenched teeth as he rocked back and forth in his chair unable to break the punishing grip. When the pain marginally eased, he fell back, forcing his taut muscles to relax, and wiped the sweat from his face, his skin icy to his own touch. No, this could not go on. It was good that he was leaving for the Pit of Archaos tomorrow. He would not be able to hide these episodes from his minders much longer.
Nothing was getting better; he was continually fighting to keep things from getting worse. The seizures were coming more often and with greater intensity and this latest was by far the most severe. He wondered if this meant he was, in fact dying - that his body was rejecting the implants. But that could only be in the abstract; rejection wouldn’t kill him fast enough to make any difference and he had to deal now with the complications of the household he would leave behind. Life had been much easier when he had been younger and had only his own fate to consider; he smiled sardonically at the triteness of the thought.
Jaithlym - he must consider what to do about her. He had no concern about the practical aspects of her life after his had ended; she was, after all, supremely capable of looking after her own interests but he owed some deference to her devotion and her consent to perpetuate his blood-line. Of course, Pereginy would stay and continue the physical care of the lady; it was her emotional health that troubled him as he recalled her earlier reaction to the announcement of his imminent departure. His principal concern was to deal with her promise about his sons. He must remember to charge Rispa with the oversight of that matter.
All at once, Anjh was again flooded with gratitude toward her, as he had been at the beginning of their affair. She had said so often that she loved him - it would surely please her if he could say as much to her but he was Prydain and romantic love was no part of his culture - Rispa frequently referred to it as the Last Illusion. However, he was willing to offer her a legal and public acknowledgement of their relationship - a solmari ritual - if she wished. Rispa could arrange...
He screamed as pain convulsed his body, hurling him to the floor rolling in agony as the pain blazed and coruscated like a cluster of suns dying. He was back on the Mountain and the force of Archaos was endlessly tearing him apart. What seemed an electric charge slammed into his diaphragm, paralyzing it and doubling him over as he retched and wrapped his arms around his mid-section, sobbing raggedly. He felt muscles continuing to spasm as his mind tried and failed to contain the pain. The impact of his head against the desk went unnoticed as did the blood freely coursing down his face from the tear the blow ripped in his scalp. He was burning and freezing at once as though his nerve endings had been stripped bare to the most extreme elements and were transmitting sensation without modulation to his brain. Unable to inhale, he dragged himself to the alarm button on the desk and, pressing it, gasped, “Rispa ... now!” He managed to trip the door release before he collapsed back to the floor, back into the mercifully numbing grey fog that had appeared from nowhere to further cloud his eyes.
Almost instantly, there was a knock on the door. As at a great distance, he saw Rispa enter the room and wondered dispassionately if the old man had been lurking just outside anticipating some such eventually. Time had become elastic and each step was a separate frame - lift - continue - end- lift... Sounds were faint and echoing and he couldn’t understand what he was hearing. Dimly, he saw Rispa drift to his side as a lack of oxygen continued to shut down his senses.
“What happened?” The Brisevant demanded as he rushed to kneel by the convulsing body, his glance taking in pupils so dilated that they were black pits of emptiness and the livid skin streaked with blood and sweat. “Anjh! What’s happened?”
“Close... door.” The hoarse whisper was barely audible.
“It’s closed... what’s happened to you?”
“Don’t... hurt... can’t ...”
Rispa raised his hand, “I trained briefly as a Healer; let me try.” He began interposing his own mental powers between the sensations and the receptors in the brain of his protégé. Slowly, Anjh's muscles relaxed, the violent spasms eased into twitches and he lay shivering but quieter on the floor.
“... Mountain?” he gasped haltingly. “... still in one?”
“Nothing is changed, my boy. You are here in your study... Now, while my control is still holding, tell me what happened.”
But Anjh could say nothing further for a long while. He lay unresisting while his Elder wiped the blood from his face and staunched his bleeding scalp. Limp with exhaustion, he was momentarily immobilized, unable to speak. Very gradually, reason returned to his eyes and he feebly grasped the Brisevant's hand.
“Jaithlym told you the truth ... ‘phantom pains’ won’t stop... from the start... getting worse - coming more often... twice today... my mind can’t control it, and drugs don’t work. You must help me. Help me die or stop the attacks until Feneralia. Keep it quiet.” His words came in short, barely coherent, bursts.
Rispa thought briefly, then bent over the still shaken man, “Have you sent your mind in to see what is happening in the places that were broken?”
“No. Thought of it but haven’t enough strength to hold off pain and go inside at the same time. Rispa, I dread going there.” It was a sign of his desperation that Anjh abandoned his pride and confessed weakness to his fellow Prydain.
“Then let me hold the gate for you while you explore. I’ll be here to pull you back if it gets too much.”
“Yes, I’ve got to try - there’s nothing else to do.” His voice was growing stronger as the pain receded. “I can’t let this go on.”