The Cliffs of the Crystalline Sea

     Fatemeh ruffled her hair with mournful impatience. Again, she gestured toward the body beside her. Again, she tried to make Jorin understand.

     “No. No more. Finish. Goodbye.”

     She fought to keep the sorrow and frustration from her voice. He needed to understand.

     “No,” he said once more. “Will you just listen? He isn’t dead.”

     “Is. Is dead,” she replied, repeating the word he’d used. “No move. No…” She pulled at her hair again. “No air in. No out. You understand?”

     “I know, okay?” Jorin peered down at her, obviously out of patience. “But he isn’t dead. Alright?”

     “You crazy.” Her voice was firm, far beyond sympathy.

     “Arg.” Jorin snarled, throwing his arms up in defeat. “I’ll get Maaya. She’ll explain to you.”

     Fatemeh watched him walk away, his blonde hair shining in the sun. She sighed. These people were all out of their minds. Ren was very much deceased, and something needed to be done about it. If not, he’d begin to rot and the animals would come for him, ready to feast upon his carcass. Somehow she didn’t think this was what should happen to people when they died. She couldn’t be sure, really, but she remembered burying her parents’ charred bodies. She was certain she must have done so because of something they’d told her, something about people not being left to fester and decay. She couldn’t remember what it was they’d said, but it must’ve been important enough to impress upon her young mind their need for graves.

     Was Jorin’s denial of Ren’s death some kind of ritual? Did people need to go through some strange period of inability to accept before disposing of a body? There was still so much she didn’t understand. Ren had been explaining to her slowly, piece by piece, that human life was far more complicated than simply existing and doing what felt good. She’d been surprised to find that most people did not go about naked throughout the summertime as she did, but still wore clothes despite the heat. She was equally astounded when he’d tried to impress upon her that nudity was not only a human body as she’d believed- it had another meaning, silent and sexual. There were so many unwritten and unspoken rules that people kept to, she wondered if she’d ever learn them all, especially now that Ren was gone.

     She hadn’t yet allowed herself to delve into the actuality of her own loss. She mourned Ren for himself, the man he’d been, without considering the impact his disappearance from her life would have on herself. Instead, she considered Ren’s personality- calm, ever patient, with a mind willing to burrow into the innermost truths of humanity. She thought of his curiosity, his enjoyment of life and the world around him. She lamented his soul, torn from this existence he loved, to be cast only the gods knew where. She pitied him for his abrupt departure and the confusion she assumed he would feel at finding himself without a life. She felt angered at the injustice he suffered at having his being destroyed too soon.

     Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, she would consider what Ren’s death meant for her. Far from the place she’d grown up, far from everything she’d ever known, she’d be forced to make her way among a people she could barely understand. She’d been blinded by her own emotions- her inexplicable longing to be near to Ren and her own curiosity about the life he described to her- and so she’d followed him without consideration of any negative consequences. Now that he would no longer be able to guide and teach her, she would have to fend for herself. He’d given her some good suggestions as to how to provide for herself in the future- perhaps she could make her living as a trapper or hunter. Still, there were so many things she didn’t understand. The way ahead was bleak and frightening. Yet she didn’t consider these things now. She had more important worries.

     With great determination, Fatemeh drove her knife into the ground beside her. She knew what needed to be done. She would sit watch here. If this denial was some kind of ritual, it would come to an end. They would bury Ren and the process would come to its bitter conclusion. If not, if all the people around her were truly crazed with grief or pure insanity, she would be there. When Ren’s body began to rot, she would bury it under the cover of night. It was the least she could do to repay his kindness. In her heart, she felt that this was right, and she would carry out her duty in quiet adherence to her own moral code.

 

     “We meet again.”

     It had been easier this time. Though Ren had been tempted to explore further the realms open to him at The Crossroads, he’d continued on purposefully along the way his heart had told him was best. The Golden Gates of Elysium had parted and as he entered he’d already known his chosen destination. The antithesis of his nightmares, the grove above the shores of the Crystalline Sea beckoned him, promising warmth and safety. It took a week of walking to reach it, but he was never in want of anything. In this wonderful, dream-like place, one had only to want and the wish was granted.

     “I’ve missed you.” As Ren felt the words pulled from his mouth, he was aware of a longing- ancient, unfulfilled, and like the words themselves, totally unrelated to his actual feelings. Once more he felt as he had upon approaching the Blue Fire- no longer himself, but controlled by a forgotten urge, at once sorrowful and fulfilled.

     “Ah,” the gentle, shining soul he’d sought spoke softly, its voice easing over a breath. “You’ve gone home, have you?”

     “Home?” Ren swallowed his initial response, which was to say that yes, he had.

     “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon… Or is it soon? Time eludes me.”

     “I- I think I came here to see you… but I’m not sure. I don’t really know what’s going on.”

     “Well, I’m here, and you came to me, so you must be in want of something. What can I do for you?”

     “I don’t know,” Ren answered despondently. “Actually, I don’t know why I’m here.”

     “Your time hasn’t come then, I take it?” The soul sat, and motioned for Ren to do the same.

     “My time?”

     “You have a great duty. It was placed upon you generations ago, when your soul was much younger than it is today. I assumed that since you’ve come to me, you must be aware now… though I don’t know if I can be of any help to you.”

     “I have a duty? I dunno… I just kinda came here… I didn’t know I had to do anything in particular.”

     “I see… I suppose maybe that’s why you’re here, because you can’t be aware of your duty until the appointed time, which I suppose is now.”

     “No offense intended, but that’s not very helpful.” Ren peered at the soul, which like it had upon his last visit fixed in the form of a man, his features serene and gentle. He appeared to be only a few years older than Ren himself, perhaps Hamat’s age, but as he had before, Ren felt a respect and awe fill him that would be more appropriate in the presence of a teacher or parent.

     “Please understand,” the soul began to explain, “I am not permitted to watch you or be in any way aware of your circumstances. I know of your duty because it was assigned to you in a time when I was still aware of the goings-on of the Universal Plane. For lifetimes your soul has been reborn and I’ve been unaware. All I know of you now is what you told me when we last met. You’re still the same, are you not?”

     “Yeah, I’m still Ren from Mianuus… but I’m in Nira now.”

     “So you did go home.” The soul nodded to itself.

     “What do you mean, home? I’ve never seen Nira before now.”

     “It was your home during the life in which I knew you. It was my home as well, during my final life.”

     “I didn’t go there to ‘go home’. I went to find the Blue Fire. It’s a legendary fire that most people think is a myth, but we found it- my friends and me.”

     The soul chuckled softly.

     “Of course, the fire. You were always fond of it.”

     “What are you talking about?” Ren’s brow furrowed.

     “I cannot make you understand. You have to see. You have to remember. Telling you isn’t going to help.”

     “Why not? You could just tell me what my duty is, why I wanted to see the Blue Fire so bad, and anything else I need to know instead of speaking in riddles.” For a moment, Ren’s patience was strained to its limit.

     “I can’t simply tell you. I’m not permitted. I have no ability to meddle in the affairs of the Universal Plane. My time of influence has passed.”

     “Then why am I talking to you? What brought me here? What’s the purpose of all that’s been happening to me if you can’t help?” He looked pleadingly at the soul, whose serene demeanor had not changed.

     “I can help in my own way. I can help you remember… perhaps. It may not work.”

     “Why not?”

     “You’ve been many people,” the soul explained. “Normally, you shouldn’t be able to remember any of the past lives of your soul because we are meant to follow a linear path, moving only forward. If I can help you to remember, all the way back to when you were given your obligation, you’ll understand what you need to do. But our success or failure lies in the hands of the gods. Since your soul will never find rest without the completion of the task to which it was assigned, it could be that they’ll permit you to recall your former lives. However, they can also be inflexible… and they may take pleasure in your struggle. And sometimes they don’t pay any attention at all, so their rules can be broken without consequence. Do you understand?”

     “Sort of.”

     “I can imagine that this ordeal must be confusing for you.” The soul smiled reassuringly. “I remember that you told me that in your age, the Clans have disappeared and that there’s no longer any teaching of the principles of Soul Walking or any other learnings of the Night’s Herald. If I can help you remember who you were, all of this will become easier to accept and understand.”
“What do we do?”

     “There is a Rite.” The soul moved closer to Ren. “Lay down and close your eyes. If this works, it will be disturbing for you. Try to relax and accept things as they come. If you’ve learned anything more in your studies of the Way, now would be the time to call upon those skills. Do not be afraid. You’ll be safe. I won’t let any harm come to you.”

     “Okay… I guess.”

     “Close your eyes.”

     Ren did, and he felt the soul press two fingers in the place between his eyebrows. He spoke words in a strange language, and Ren felt himself pulled inward. It was an uncomfortable sensation, as though his entire body was folding into his stomach. He pressed further and further, aware only of his own navel, which he was certain had been driven deep into the ground. Unable to breathe, swallowed in the black depths of himself, Ren felt sure that he was about to die. Just as he began to panic, the sensation suddenly stopped.

     He was lying on his back, the prickly feeling of autumn grass tickling him through his shabby clothing… unfamiliar, too-tight clothing. His nose hurt abominably. Surprised, he reached up and dabbed at it. Gazing at his bloodied fingers, he saw that they were much smaller than they should be, slender and pale.

     “Give it back, Purla!”

     A girl’s face filled his vision. She was young, perhaps ten, thin and peaked. She grabbed at him, pulling his clothes, battering his face, yanking his braided hair.

     “I haben’t god id!” He shouted back without intention to do so, driven by a compulsory force. His squeaking, high-pitched voice was made unclear through his broken, bleeding nose.

     “Yes, you do! Grandmother said it was for me to have! Give it back!”

     Give back what? He wondered frantically. Again his mouth moved of its own volition and he pleaded.

     “I didn’ take id!”

     The girl pulled him up by the collar. She slapped his face. He realized he was much smaller than she was… and that somehow, he was also a she.

     “Purla, I’m warning you,” the older girl growled.

     He… She… Whoever he was backed away from the girl. He didn’t make it very far, however. His back soon pressed against the low stone wall of a well. The older girl closed in. They were grappling and shouting.

     “Give me back my necklace!”

     “I didn’ take id! I sweah!”

     With an overzealous shove on the part of the elder, it happened. He lost his balance, and went flopping backwards into the mouth of the well. At first, though it was a long, terrifying plummet into the water, he wasn’t particularly scared. Then he realized the body he was now inhabiting couldn’t swim. Helplessly, he drowned, arms and legs flailing in the narrow space.

     Why is this happening? Who am I? How is this supposed to help?

     As the body he was in lost consciousness, no longer filling his mind with second-hand panic, a memory rose within- the voice of the red-eyed woman in his dreams, speaking coolly.

     “Child of misfortune, twenty-five lives lost to violence…”

     Twenty-five lives lost to violence.

     Again he felt the sensation of being drawn inward, down, down within himself. The terrible constriction was easier to bear now that he knew it would cease eventually. When he opened his eyes this time, he was seated. The room around him was far larger and more opulent than any he’d ever seen in his life. He sat in an astoundingly comfortable chair at the head of a long, gleaming table. None of the other chairs were occupied, but somehow he knew that he wasn’t alone.

     He reached out dark-skinned hands to the cigar case on the table. Opening the shining silver box lined with dark wood, he held it up and spoke words he didn’t understand.

     “Il avia danya?”

     “Neh.”

     The voice, that of another man, spoke from behind him. The man crossed into view and sat down in a chair on the left-hand side.

     They were both wearing strange clothing- dark-colored slacks with pleats running down the fronts, thin belts of buttery leather with shining buckles, button down shirts of fabric so soft and fine Ren had never felt the like of it. They also wore jackets- light, short affairs with very few buttons. Around their necks were brightly colored strips of silk, knotted like nooses. Overall, the mode of dress was reminiscent of some of the things Ren had seen Xelin wearing, but with an added polish and comfort that was lacking in the Diasminian’s clothes. Ren wondered idly what the season was, for there wasn’t the slightest chill in the air, nor was there any hint of stifling heat.

     The man seated near him had the same dark skin as he’d seen on his own hands. His black hair was brush-like and wiry, cut neatly and slicked back. His ink-black eyes were penetrating, his full lips curled in a smile. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and gave off the distinct air of wealth and power. After a few moments of silence he spoke, his deep voice forming alien words.

     “Saranye tak belagn iver isilion. Vertanye.”

     Ren felt his frustration rise, completely divided from the emotion of his body, which welled satisfaction.

     How am I supposed to learn anything if I can’t understand what’s going on?

     “Vertan es neh,” he answered, his own voice sounding older and richer than the other’s. “Envlanye saran miel tak belagn.”

     The other man shrugged, still smiling.

     This is me, right? Ren reasoned with himself. If this is someone who I was, and he- I- can speak the language, maybe there’s some way I can make myself remember.

     “Anslave neh, Fehla,” he spoke again, indulgently, to the other man.

     Maybe… Maybe I just need to pay more attention. If I could just stop thinking about me and think about… me… Damn, this is confusing.

     Determined, Ren forced himself to quiet the large portion of his mind that was shouting questions and focus solely on the sensations of the body he now was. He allowed the feelings of fulfillment, tiredness and vague hunger fill him. He felt his own enjoyment of the cigar, and of the company of the young man here with him- his protégé, Fehla.

     “We should celebrate,” Fehla said rising from his seat and walking over to a softly lit alcove. “Regardless of whether or not it was luck or hard work, it’s not every day you make the deal of a lifetime.”

     “Right you are, Fehla,” Ren replied. He gazed at the golden watch on his wrist, one that sparkled slightly with well-placed diamonds. “Though I must be getting home to Risanta… It’s quite late.”

     “Just one drink.”

     “Of course,” Ren chuckled heartily.

     Fehla returned with two tumblers of amber liquid. He handed one to Ren and raised his own. The crystal rang as the glasses clinked together.

     “A toast,” Fehla exclaimed. “To making loads of money!”

     “Ah, Fehla, keep your head. I, for one, have more than enough money. You know I intend to donate most of the profits from this transaction to charity.”

     “Bloody fool that you are,” Fehla muttered.

     “Now, now, young man. There’s more to life than money.”

     “It certainly doesn’t hurt having it.”

     “That is so, but we shouldn’t forget to have compassion.”

     “I know, I know. I don’t need another lecture.”

     “So you don’t.”

     The men drank in silence, savoring the quality of the liquor. It was an amiable quiet between them, one that had a feeling of frequency. Once finished, Ren rolled the bottom rim of the tumbler on the table, wondering idly if his wife would still be awake when he got home. He started to feel uncomfortable- the room seemed a bit too hot suddenly, and his pulse abruptly began to race. The tumbler slipped from his sweaty hands.

     “What’s the matter, Talil? Not feeling well?” Though Fehla’s voice rang with concern, there was an underlying note of bitter cynicism that pushed its way into the words.

     “Just a bit of a dizzy spell,” Ren replied, his voice husky. “It’ll pass.”

     “On the contrary, Talil.” Fehla’s voice lost all semblance of warmth. “You’re going to have a heart attack. Damn shame, that.”

     “Fehla?” Ren’s voice came out pleading. Already, he felt the stone-like pressure in his chest, heart fluttering and flopping.

     “It’s time you passed the torch, Talil. You’re old and soft. Charity? Bah!” Fehla spat on the table where Ren had sprawled. “The empire you built will be in good hands- better hands than yours.”

     As Ren lay dying, collapsed on the carpet, Fehla walked away.

     “Farewell, Talil. Better luck in your next life.”

     The body of Talil failed him, but he was barely aware of the haze of pain and confusion. The feeling of sinking down within grasped Ren once more, and he was pulled again, down into the depths of himself. Over and over he witnessed- lived- the ends of his lifetimes. With each death and re-awakening he learned more about how to shut his current self and its awareness away, allowing him to glean information from the former selves. After about the tenth experience, he began to lose himself entirely, letting the memories and knowledge of his other beings fill him. He learned their histories, their languages, their most intimate secrets. He was men, women, Diasminian and foreign. At times he lived to be a grandparent, and at times life ended abruptly in early childhood.

     As he relived all his ends, a disturbing pattern became apparent. As promised by the red-eyed lady of his nightmares, each life was taken in violence, but more troubling to him was the undercurrent of bleakness present in every one. All of the people he’d been had two things in common, though he’d not yet admitted that he, too, shared these traits. Each of them lived a life of fruitless searching, of a hidden fear of unfulfillment and a vain attempt to answer questions they had never even heard… and none, even those that had married, had ever found comfort in their lovers. Along with their fruitless efforts to find the peace that so eluded them, something was perpetually missing from their homes, a certain warmth and confidence.

     After Talil, twenty-two more lifetimes passed, moving backwards through time. Toward the end of the succession, Ren found the obliteration of himself came quite easily. Until he opened his eyes the final time, he didn’t realize the value of this learning. As he woke into the twenty-fifth life, his need for rapidly acquired information became strikingly apparent.

     Though it had been painful to die, over and over in seemingly endless succession, nothing compared to this. At first, he was unable to be aware of anything but the chill and agonizing suffering he felt. He hadn’t even realized that the body he was in was regaining consciousness. The mind his own was trapped in swam with confusion, unable to process what had happened. It could not recall the present, moments long passed being relived in its stead- a soft voice speaking, and afternoon’s lesson of years ago.

     Ren realized that death was coming swift, but hesitated. He was afraid. Though he knew that he must lose himself in this body, become truly one with the mind, he knew as well that to do so was to place himself entirely inside that terrible pain, which for as long as he clung to his current self he could push to the side. Steeling himself, he struggled to accept what he must do. He’d finally managed to convince himself to get it over with when a dark shape passed into his vision and he was suddenly snapped back into awareness.

     Something was wrong.

     But… This isn’t supposed to be me- not me now. I’m supposed to be in the past.

     Yet the feeling within was so overpowering, he couldn’t argue against it. Logic was insisting that he needed haste- he may only have seconds left within this form… but who was he now? Was he himself, brought abruptly back to his own body, torn from wherever he’d been to wake ripped apart and dying? He couldn’t move to see… but why else would Fatemeh be here, her blurred form sprinting, shouting garbled words?

     I need to know.

     Casting aside his caution, Ren sank deep within the self he inhabited- be it his own true being or another. The face of the woman swam into his vision. She was not Fatemeh, but another- another with the same way of moving, the same poise, the same sensations emanating from within. So focused on her was his mind that he could think of nothing else. Aware that his end drew very near, his only ambition lay with her. Ren would die trapped in this form without learning anything. He could think of nothing but this woman and his love for her.

     With his final act complete, the tracing of eight letters in the blood-soaked dirt, he released himself to death. Yet in that final moment of existence, it happened. Riding the tide of the weight of his failure, he remembered. All the things that would remain undone were laid bare for this pawn of a simple betrayal to suffer. He did not think of them actively, for he thought only of her… He’d thought her safe, but in the very last second of semi-lucidity he’d realized what had been done. This awareness opened him to recollections, and though none came they were there, all memories and knowledge accessible.

     It was less than a second later that he died.

     The sensation Ren felt was directly converse to his other experiences. This time, rather than being pulled inward, he felt as though he was rising somehow without leaving his body. The speed of his ascent increased, until he imagined he was rocketing through the air. With a sudden jerk, he stopped. He opened his eyes to find the gentle soul of the grove gazing down at him kindly.

     “I know you,” Ren said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. The tumult of emotions within made his stomach clench and his breath quicken.

     “Relax,” the soul murmured, laying a hand on Ren’s forehead. “Still yourself, let the feelings come and pass. You know how to do that now.”

     “I was never good at it.”

     “You can be.”

     Knowledge obtained before he was himself guided Ren, and he quieted his raging mind with a skill that came from years of study he’d never done. Far calmer now, he sat up. Meeting the serene eyes of the soul, he asked the question that had emerged as most pressing.

     “When I return to the Universal Plane, will I still know what I do now? I can remember so much…”

     “Yes, you will return from your journey with any information you may have acquired.”
Ren’s eyes widened slightly. He could speak six languages, embroider silk, butcher cows and pigs, do traditional dances of places he’d never seen… the list went on and on. Then there was the other thing he could do now, and with it the knowledge of what he must do.

     “The Rift,” he began tentatively. “I wasn’t meant to have to close it by myself. What if I can’t?”

     “It is your duty to close the Rift. If you fail in this life, your soul will continue to try, over and over, until you achieve your goal or until the end of time.”

     “Can’t I find anyone to help me?”
The soul looked momentarily contemplative, then shook his head slowly.

     “You’ve told me that the Clans have disappeared in your age, and that the teachings of the Night’s Herald have been lost. You alone will have the ability to set things right in your world.”

     “It seems impossible without…” Ren sighed sadly. “But I suppose it’ll be worth it… Except…”

     The soul waited patiently for him to muddle through his thoughts.

     “You can’t see,” Ren said quietly. “You can’t see, so you don’t know.”

     “No, you’re right, I cannot.”

     “All of my mistakes, all of my failures… It’s not just having to close the Rift. Apparently, my soul is going to have to relive all its challenges at once.” He let his head sink into his hands. “Her name in my lifetime is Fatemeh. I named her myself, after the island here, though I’d forgotten the meaning then.”

     He felt a hand on his arm.

     “The ways of the gods can seem very strange, but perhaps there is some meaning in this.”

     “I can’t succeed in one thing without failing in the other. Where’s the meaning in that? And how can I reconcile who I was with who I am now? Everything is backwards.”

     “The answer will come to you in time.”

     “That’s what you always say.”

     The two shared a smile. Then, Ren’s face grew troubled.

     “When you look at me, which of us do you see? Me or him?”

     “I see all of you.”