Mirrorworld (50 page)

“Do you know what’s just as infinite as the past, Marcus?” she asked, speaking more quietly but no less firmly as she leant down to lock her eyes into his own, to deliver her message past the ruined barricades that her outburst had already torn down. “The
future.
And unlike the past, the future actually leads somewhere. Go backwards, and you might as well be dead, because there’s nothing useful about stuff that can’t ever be. But go forwards, and let yourself feel life.. The future can be anything you want, so fill your head up with that instead. Drown your darkness, and pick your own fate.” She sighed, brushing away the tears that had run unobstructed over her words. “Or don’t. It’s up to you. That’s the point, really. But if you won’t see it.. then I’ll have no more to do with you.”

And then she was gone, turned and walking away. Marcus sat, dazed, atop his proud hilltop, feeling tentatively at his face as she faded away. It hurt. Kendra wasn’t large, but there had been a lot of feeling in the strike. It had smashed right through the heavy weight of his thoughts, blowing them apart into a calm quiet through which there now echoed only two sounds, the twin drumbeats of the pain in his cheek and the pounding of his heart. This sudden, gaping quiet, that sat where so recently thoughts had buzzed like flies, was just as shocking as the impact that had summoned it, so he sat, dumbfounded, as it stretched on and on, filled only by the calm bass undertones of physical existence. But around it.. his fallen thoughts were creeping back in, his selves reassembling after being torn apart by Kendra’s onslaught, and they crowded around him, pulling at him, whispering their darkness. In this storm of thoughts he had no space to consider her words, no space to think, no voice left to whisper objection as the memory of his last night on Earth stepped up to him, and ran him through. He fell back, staring at the sky as his memory obliterated it, mental clarity fading to the buzz of history..

Why are we listening to these yahoos over her?
asked a Marcus, speaking with a sudden clarity that sounded like a gong, pushing aside the roars of his brothers as it pitched a tent in his head.

What?
Marcus asked vaguely, fingering a wound that suddenly didn’t hurt.
Who are you?

I’m the you who cast these other whelps aside, back in the Viaggiatori labs,
the memory said.
Based on you, I’m beginning to think that this may not have been the wisest of moves.

You’re back from when I had faith in the future,
Marcus said dully.

If he is,
said another self,
then so am I. And so are you.

Which one are you?
Marcus asked.

I’m from Tiski,
the memory said.
Where you realised what not wanting to die not really means.

And I’m post-Plumm,
said another one,
the one who wouldn’t let you dwell in hatred.

We’re the Marcuses of the Mirrorworld,
said Tiski.
We’re
the ones who dared to dream of another way. And we all agree with her.

Well, it’s good of you all to turn up at last,
Marcus thought wistfully,
but you’re too late.
Around him, the rebellious force of his more venomous selves had devolved, their forms dissipating into the same soft smoke that had marked their exit when they’d left his head before. But now, it stayed, and it was choking him.
I couldn’t forget these other guys,
he said of them,
but now they’ll forget me.

Then let’s not forget them,
the labs suggested.
Let’s forgive them, and lay them to rest.

I’m not sure I can,
Marcus said, but he found that he didn’t quite believe that.

Only
you can,
Plumm told him, as the memories helped him to his feet. The smoke danced back around him as if confused, then leapt to redouble its assault, but it was held back by the tandem forces of his various better selves.
You’re the eldest, the biggest, the wisest,
a memory said.
We’re just echoes that won’t shut up. But as long as you can hear us, so can they, and we can help.
And they did. Together these thoughts rose from the craters where they had fallen, battered and beaten down by the raging storm of the Marcuses who had come before them, but still, somehow, undeniably, alive. By the wiser words of someone who didn’t have to live in his head they had been summoned, and now they worked as one, striding proudly over the battlefield to stand against the oppressors of fate’s fragmented fury, and together they spoke past them, a thousand times louder than a million cries of rage.
Giving up is easy,
they told him.
Living is hard. The story may be over, but it doesn’t have to end.

In memory and in reality, Marcus stood up, picking up his scythe. With its touch came the rushing malice of death, slicing its way back into his head to settle between his ears. Grim to beholden but death to refuse, Marcus was surprised to find that it no longer bothered him. Because now, his mind was turning, and he could feel the other side of it, the hidden aspects that his enduring darkness had not let him feel. In the beat of the drums that echoed on his bones, and by the light of the joyous shouts of his better selves, he could see what he hadn’t before, that the dancing shadow of death owed its existence entirely to the brighter lights of
life.
There couldn’t be one without the other, and the latter was more important. It was a part of him, had gotten him this far, but it was everywhere else, too. It was in the essence of the world. It was in Kendra, who he saw now, sat with Lit Kai, pleading for him to hold on as his final moments ticked away. It was in Musk, in Fervesce, in the troll, in Keithus, his army, the Viaggiatori, in Portruss, the Mirrorworld, in Earth.. and in Death. He would come for them all, eventually.. but until then, their lives were their own.
He
was the only fate of everyone who had ever lived, but between the beginning and end of each life there was a whole lot of time to fill, and that much was up to the person who lived it. It was a big thought, but Marcus knew that in the infinity of his mind that there was space enough for both he and his other selves to get it. So
he waded into the gaseous melee of his warring thoughts, facing the rage of their betrayal with the force of hope, with the offer to heal them by living, not listening, the resounding new will to find a better way.. and he felt them begin to subside, their faults forgiven and laid to rest, and fold back into him.

You could still choose to be whatever you want..
thought a Marcus.

Keeping your life your own, that can be your thing..
said several Marcuses.

And maybe the future doesn’t have to be like the past..
cried a multitude of Marcuses.

Maybe the future doesn’t have to be like the past,
thought the only Marcus, as he stepped away from madness, out of the head where he had dwelled for so long, and back to the Mirrorworld.

Kendra shook as she strode away from Marcus. Her vision was blurred by tears of anger, but she was too distracted to wipe them away. The horrible stain of his sudden fatalism had painted the line that she would not cross, and if this was how he intended to be.. then she could do no more for him. But she couldn’t let it lie, and so she’d blown up her composure in a final attempt to try and get through to a man who would not listen.. and now she was having trouble getting it back. But over here, there were people she could help, and so she kept walking, reigning it in, determined to still do
something
. The others watched her carefully as she approached, innocently blank expressions telling an interesting tale about how much they’d seen and heard of what had just happened. The exception was Musk, who appeared blind to all but the troll, and was looking at her in a weird, gooey-eyed kind of way. Were they
holding hands?
She shook the thought away, and knelt down next to Kai, who appeared to have taken a turn for the worse.

“Kai, can you hear me?”

His eyes fluttered open, and he half-smiled at her. “I think.. I’m going.. Kendra..”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not yet. Please, wait. For me.”

“..Why?” he asked, his breath shallow and laboured. Fervesce made as if to pull Kendra away, but she dodged past the old man’s reach and leant in close.

“I need you, Kai. Keithus has to be stopped, whatever the cost. We need your skill to get us to Portruss. Do you think you can do it? Open us a portal in that mirror?”

Kai smiled. “No. Far too.. too weak. But,” he added, as Kendra’s face was overcome with an expression of defeated despair, “I could show you how. Got records..” With a groan, he reached inside his shirt, and pulled out a wad of paper that was thick with notes. “Grabbed this.. before he threw me away. A copy. He took the first, used it for himself. But it’s.. all.. here.” He stuffed the paperwork into Fervesce’s hands. “You.. old man. You have the skill. Moving things.. You can.” He fell back, his breathing barely audible, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save you, Kai,” Kendra said sadly, leaning in and kissing his forehead.

“To see you again..” his voice was a whisper. “You did, Kendra. But.. make it work. Make my magic work. Then.. I’ll always be there.” He closed his eyes, for the last time.

Those who remained sat in silence. Fervesce looked from the spindly, heavily annotated life’s work that he now held to its creator, to Kendra, and back again, wishing he had something to say. Musk and Kimberlite sat off to the side, taking an odd comfort in each other’s presence, but muted nonetheless by the tragedy that yet reverberated around them. And Kendra remained knelt by the departed Kai, the emblem of all that was lost, feeling her determination evaporate into hopelessness.

“What do we do now?” Fervesce asked, eventually.

“Can you get us to the city?” Kimberlite asked. “With that?” She nodded at Kai’s notes.

“Probably,” the old man said, flipping through them. “But then what?”

“We fight,” Musk said. “It’s not over yet.”

“Isn’t it?” Kendra asked gloomily.

Fervesce and Musk shared a surprised, worried glance. “People are most likely dying, right now,” Fervesce said to her, with a gentle sense of rebuke.

“People are always dying,” Kendra said bitterly. “Maybe this is just meant to be.”

“Well, that’s rubbish,” said another voice, and a scythe swung through their midst, passing over the still form of Lit Kai, where it appeared to meet with the slightest of resistance. The figure who had swung it had snuck over beyond the notice of their collective funk, and, though familiar, he stood now with new eyes. They still saw for a thousand miles, but the rage that had burned behind them had gone, replaced with a new, different light that twinkled blue as they met the gaze of a spirit only they could see, and nodded respectfully in observation of its departure.

“Marcus?” Kendra asked incredulously, and he turned to her. There was still strain around the edge of that blue, a weariness compounded by anger, but it was controlled now.

“Kendra,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

“There wasn’t anything we could do,” she said, looking away.

“Not just for that,” he said, crouching before her. “I’m sorry for everything. For all the things I said, not just now but always. I’m sorry for not having been a good enough person, and I’m sorry for the things that I led you to say. But for what it’s worth, it worked; you were right all along, but I was too stubborn to believe it. My life is my own, and if I live it hung up on the past, then I’ll be no better than Keithus. So I’m going to think of the future, instead. I’ve got one of those, now, for the first time, and it’s a nice feeling, one I think I’d like to keep.” He shrugged. “Unfortunately, somewhere out there, there’s a wizard out to destroy it, so that means fighting some more. Which is what I’m going to do, if you’ll have me.” He sighed. “And if you won’t, I’ll still do it. Not for destiny, and not for the Viaggiatori, but for me. And for you. For all that’s past, and for all that’s yet to come.. because it’s
not
over yet, and because yes, people are always dying.. but that doesn’t mean they’re not living as well.”

“Oh really,” Kendra said flatly. She couldn’t deny that they were the words she’d wanted to hear, and even in scepticism they refuelled her determination, but after everything, they were hard to swallow. “This is a pretty big about-turn from ‘leave me to my misery’.”

“Yes,” Marcus said simply, reaching out, “and it’s due to you. You always bought me light when things were dark, whether I deserved it or no. The least I can do is return the favour, especially when it’s my own darkness that’s in you now.”

Kendra hesitated, remembering his so recent bitter words.. but there was something in his eyes that suggested nothing more than honest truth to what he was saying now, and maybe, in light of that, there could still be room for a bit of hope in the world. So she smiled, and it seemed to her as if the very action melted away the last of Marcus’s tension. “Forgiven?” he asked, hopefully.

“Tentatively,” she said, shaking his offered hand.

“I’ll work on that,” he said, returning her smile. “Okay,” he added, standing up, pulling together the scattered threads of his narrative and weaving them together. Here stood he himself, a creature trod on by fate, but one still standing. Here, an old man, he of the ridiculous and thoroughly inexplicable psychic powers. Here, a lady who could make anyone go weak at the knees with a wave of her hand and the hum of a tune, and probably most without either of those. Over there, the strongest man in the world, and with him, the small matter of the queen of trolls. Those were his forces, and though they might not have numbered much, not in comparison to Keithus’s army.. they were good.

“Okay,” he said again. “Let’s go get the son of a bitch.”

It only took Fervesce a few moments, scanning through Kai’s notes, to get the idea, after which he moved over to the mirror Keithus had exited via and started poking at it. Marcus passed this time giving Kendra a more thorough breakdown of the high-wire act that his brain had just performed, which she listened to with a patience and good humour that he didn’t really deserve. But she bore through it all, wearing that wistful smile that obliterated all but the most subtle hints of sadness.