The Dream
She sat alone on a stone bench in a sparse gray chapel, in front of an undecorated iron door.
She was terribly cold, from her toes to her scalp. Steam was pluming out of her nose and mouth as she breathed and rising from her skin; she wore undyed cotton garments that did nothing to keep her warm, and she was shivering, all of her skin puckered into gooseflesh. She kept her mouth open enough to keep her teeth from chattering against each other, not wanting the sound.
What lay beyond the door was alive, she knew. Or... alive might not be the best term. Aware, maybe. This far away, she was just barely in its power.
It was something great and terrible and utterly, utterly indifferent, with all the warmth and hatred of a force of nature. She desperately didn't want to be here with it, but she wanted this done.
She reached for the door. Somehow it was more real than anything else in the chapel. When she touched it, the world changed.
useless
not allowed to fight defend protect
kept safe
kept away could change things could help them
kept safe
kept safe live safe others fighting others dying could help them want to need to
female expected to be weak fragile can't be risked on the battlefield ability is a fluke tradition
needed greatly needed every blade to fight defend protect
can't go
kept safe
imprisoned
She opened her eyes, heard her breath coming harsher and faster, held in her anger. She was back in the unheated chapel, in front of the iron door, and the reality was back with her. They'd tried to tell her she couldn't do this, they'd tried to keep her safe when they needed every able body, including her. They'd almost kept her from this. But now she was here.
What she'd lived just now had never happened. Never like that. It had been a perfect illusion, from the creaking of the stuffed-leather padded chairs to the smell of the smoky fireplace to the condescending look in his eyes, like he was doing her a favor. But it hadn't happened. She didn't even know who he was; while she had been living it she had known who and where and... everything, but those details were escaping now.
She'd gotten through what had happened, shown them that she was as capable as anyone. She'd get through this.
When she thought she was ready, she reached for the door again, with a little more force. If it wanted to drive her away, it would have to try harder than that.
high up
terribly high up
ground spiraling away far too far
can't look away
hold tightly don't let go can't move have to hold on can't look away
don't let go
don't let go
hands cramping don't let go can't look away far too far
don't let go hands cramping don't let go far too far
far too far don't let go hands cramping fingers numb slipping
slipping
grab can't reach slipping tearing free of fingers falling
falling
falling
This time as it ended she was gasping, still feeling a little bit of the lurch in her stomach. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed repeatedly, staring fixedly at the flagstones beneath her bare feet. They were chilled, very solid, and comfortingly close. She was fine. She wasn't falling. She'd never been on a cliff that high.
It took her longer this time. She didn't want to do this. To see these things; they felt real, even if so many of the details escaped her the moment she pulled away. She studied her hands, covered in scars both fine and not-so-fine, and found her courage again.
When she told her arm to reach out and touch the door, it obeyed, even if it shook a little. This time she had the uncanny sense that something on the other side was reaching back.
can't
raiders men on horseback centaurs spidrens machines
can't defend
can't move bound with invisible ropes fight them they won't shift
can't even stand
raiders
the camp
not ready defenders are slow gates not locked
can't help them
overrun
fire panic screaming chaos
slaughter
can't help them can't get up can't do anything helpless
put to the torch
supposed to protect them
have to watch
raider laughing riding closer takes a child child screams
casual almost an afterthought
sword can't dodge it
pain falling bleeding out rider keeps going left here
dying in the dust
dying
everyone is dead or enslaved
couldn't stop them
dying
failed
Back in the chapel she blinked away hot stinging tears until they cooled on her cheeks, her expression as frozen as stone. She was breathing hard, great gasping sobs threatening to burst out, and she fought hard to control herself.
Though she knew it had never happened, her body ached, and she almost expected to feel dust in her hair, see blood soaking her clothing. She hadn't been able to save anyone.
She had to make it so that it never happened for real.
For a while she waited, hands clenching in the fabric of her trousers, until her heart rate had gone down and she was calm. Calmer. Stone. I am stone, she told herself, trying to will herself the serenity in these old, comforting images. My heart is a still mountain lake; these things will pass, and I will remain.
It was then that, like something out of a dream, the iron door swung open soundlessly. Beyond it was a small, boxlike chamber, almost a vault, the gray flagstones completely plain. It looked empty.
She knew it wasn't.
It wouldn't come to her. She had to come to it, she had to walk inside. Surrender herself to it on her own power, by her own will.
Anything could happen in there, and it would feel real - it would be real. Even more real than those visions; after all, those were only tests of courage, weren't they? When the visions ended, she was left unharmed, but in there if she failed she would die, or go mad, or-
But she had to do this. Swallowing hard, she tried to stand, and couldn't.
She couldn't make herself stand. Her feet weren't frozen to the floor, her legs were stiff from sitting unmoving in the cold but still worked. She just couldn't make herself stand to walk inside.
Imagine going this far and not being able to take the last steps. Literally! She could have laughed; might have, if she hadn't known it would be hard to stop. Hysterics might not hurt anyone and could make her feel better, but this wasn't the time or place.
She couldn't stay here. She wouldn't stay here, she wouldn't let them be right about her. Maybe she couldn't stand, but she thought she could feel it reach for her, and she reached back -
Maybe it was because the iron door wasn't in the way. This time the chapel stayed in place, not changing, and she stayed reaching out for something she couldn't see or touch. All that happened was that she heard someone familiar speaking to her, fondly but seriously, like a father having a serious discussion with his daughter.
The Ordeal is like a cutter of gemstones. The spirit inside - like the gods, it sees things in a way that seems cockeyed to we mortals. Maybe it is a god. Either way it will test you; it will find your flaws and hammer them open.
Should you survive your Ordeal, you will be sworn to protect those weaker than you, to obey your overlord, to live in a way that honors your kingdom and your gods. You may not ignore a cry for help. Rich and poor, young and old, male and female may look to you for rescue, and you cannot deny them.
You are bound to uphold the law. You may not look away from wrongdoing. You may not help anyone to break the law of the land, and you must prevent the breaking of the law at all times, in all cases. You are bound to your honor and your word. Act in such a way that when you face the Dark God you need not be ashamed.
You have learned the laws of C_______. Keep them in your heart. Use them as your guides when things are their darkest. They will not fail you if you interpret them with humanity and kindness. You must be gentle. Your first duty is to understand."
This - she didn't know if this had happened or not, if this someone who she respected and trusted had said these words in this way. But it was true. It was true, and she wanted to be sworn to be that. She had to do this.
It was her duty.
She stood, a little bit shakily. Took a step towards the chamber. Another. What was inside wasn't reaching now. It knew she'd get there.
Another step and she'd be inside. Her hands were cold and stiff, but she still curled them into the tightest fists she could manage. She was afraid, of course she was afraid, but that didn't mean she had to show it.
She took that last step. The door silently closed behind her, leaving her in complete darkness. Beneath her feet the flagstones dissolved, and she fell, but slowly, drifting this way and that like a feather.
You won't break me, she thought, wincing at her own defiance. I've worked for this for years, I've made it through every trial. Is this the best you can do?
It... thought back, soundlessly, somewhere in that space behind her mind and her ears. Something in its... not a voice. It wasn't like any sensation she could remember feeling. Something suggested that it was faintly amused.
You mortals are like fish swimming in a globe of glass.
That globe is your world. You do not see beyond it.
I am all around that globe, everywhere at once.
I am in your yesterdays and tomorrows just as I am in your today, and it all looks the same to me.
She was cold, endlessly, achingly cold. The thing in the chamber had killed people before. Opened the door to reveal bodies with faces that had lost all hope of sunrise, or simply to show withered flesh and bared bones. It had driven people insane. And it had let plenty of others walk out, shaken and injured but alive and sane and ready to become -
Now we shall see.
She was terribly cold, from her toes to her scalp. Steam was pluming out of her nose and mouth as she breathed and rising from her skin; she wore undyed cotton garments that did nothing to keep her warm, and she was shivering, all of her skin puckered into gooseflesh. She kept her mouth open enough to keep her teeth from chattering against each other, not wanting the sound.
What lay beyond the door was alive, she knew. Or... alive might not be the best term. Aware, maybe. This far away, she was just barely in its power.
It was something great and terrible and utterly, utterly indifferent, with all the warmth and hatred of a force of nature. She desperately didn't want to be here with it, but she wanted this done.
She reached for the door. Somehow it was more real than anything else in the chapel. When she touched it, the world changed.
useless
not allowed to fight defend protect
kept safe
kept away could change things could help them
kept safe
kept safe live safe others fighting others dying could help them want to need to
female expected to be weak fragile can't be risked on the battlefield ability is a fluke tradition
needed greatly needed every blade to fight defend protect
can't go
kept safe
imprisoned
She opened her eyes, heard her breath coming harsher and faster, held in her anger. She was back in the unheated chapel, in front of the iron door, and the reality was back with her. They'd tried to tell her she couldn't do this, they'd tried to keep her safe when they needed every able body, including her. They'd almost kept her from this. But now she was here.
What she'd lived just now had never happened. Never like that. It had been a perfect illusion, from the creaking of the stuffed-leather padded chairs to the smell of the smoky fireplace to the condescending look in his eyes, like he was doing her a favor. But it hadn't happened. She didn't even know who he was; while she had been living it she had known who and where and... everything, but those details were escaping now.
She'd gotten through what had happened, shown them that she was as capable as anyone. She'd get through this.
When she thought she was ready, she reached for the door again, with a little more force. If it wanted to drive her away, it would have to try harder than that.
high up
terribly high up
ground spiraling away far too far
can't look away
hold tightly don't let go can't move have to hold on can't look away
don't let go
don't let go
hands cramping don't let go can't look away far too far
don't let go hands cramping don't let go far too far
far too far don't let go hands cramping fingers numb slipping
slipping
grab can't reach slipping tearing free of fingers falling
falling
falling
This time as it ended she was gasping, still feeling a little bit of the lurch in her stomach. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed repeatedly, staring fixedly at the flagstones beneath her bare feet. They were chilled, very solid, and comfortingly close. She was fine. She wasn't falling. She'd never been on a cliff that high.
It took her longer this time. She didn't want to do this. To see these things; they felt real, even if so many of the details escaped her the moment she pulled away. She studied her hands, covered in scars both fine and not-so-fine, and found her courage again.
When she told her arm to reach out and touch the door, it obeyed, even if it shook a little. This time she had the uncanny sense that something on the other side was reaching back.
can't
raiders men on horseback centaurs spidrens machines
can't defend
can't move bound with invisible ropes fight them they won't shift
can't even stand
raiders
the camp
not ready defenders are slow gates not locked
can't help them
overrun
fire panic screaming chaos
slaughter
can't help them can't get up can't do anything helpless
put to the torch
supposed to protect them
have to watch
raider laughing riding closer takes a child child screams
casual almost an afterthought
sword can't dodge it
pain falling bleeding out rider keeps going left here
dying in the dust
dying
everyone is dead or enslaved
couldn't stop them
dying
failed
Back in the chapel she blinked away hot stinging tears until they cooled on her cheeks, her expression as frozen as stone. She was breathing hard, great gasping sobs threatening to burst out, and she fought hard to control herself.
Though she knew it had never happened, her body ached, and she almost expected to feel dust in her hair, see blood soaking her clothing. She hadn't been able to save anyone.
She had to make it so that it never happened for real.
For a while she waited, hands clenching in the fabric of her trousers, until her heart rate had gone down and she was calm. Calmer. Stone. I am stone, she told herself, trying to will herself the serenity in these old, comforting images. My heart is a still mountain lake; these things will pass, and I will remain.
It was then that, like something out of a dream, the iron door swung open soundlessly. Beyond it was a small, boxlike chamber, almost a vault, the gray flagstones completely plain. It looked empty.
She knew it wasn't.
It wouldn't come to her. She had to come to it, she had to walk inside. Surrender herself to it on her own power, by her own will.
Anything could happen in there, and it would feel real - it would be real. Even more real than those visions; after all, those were only tests of courage, weren't they? When the visions ended, she was left unharmed, but in there if she failed she would die, or go mad, or-
But she had to do this. Swallowing hard, she tried to stand, and couldn't.
She couldn't make herself stand. Her feet weren't frozen to the floor, her legs were stiff from sitting unmoving in the cold but still worked. She just couldn't make herself stand to walk inside.
Imagine going this far and not being able to take the last steps. Literally! She could have laughed; might have, if she hadn't known it would be hard to stop. Hysterics might not hurt anyone and could make her feel better, but this wasn't the time or place.
She couldn't stay here. She wouldn't stay here, she wouldn't let them be right about her. Maybe she couldn't stand, but she thought she could feel it reach for her, and she reached back -
Maybe it was because the iron door wasn't in the way. This time the chapel stayed in place, not changing, and she stayed reaching out for something she couldn't see or touch. All that happened was that she heard someone familiar speaking to her, fondly but seriously, like a father having a serious discussion with his daughter.
The Ordeal is like a cutter of gemstones. The spirit inside - like the gods, it sees things in a way that seems cockeyed to we mortals. Maybe it is a god. Either way it will test you; it will find your flaws and hammer them open.
Should you survive your Ordeal, you will be sworn to protect those weaker than you, to obey your overlord, to live in a way that honors your kingdom and your gods. You may not ignore a cry for help. Rich and poor, young and old, male and female may look to you for rescue, and you cannot deny them.
You are bound to uphold the law. You may not look away from wrongdoing. You may not help anyone to break the law of the land, and you must prevent the breaking of the law at all times, in all cases. You are bound to your honor and your word. Act in such a way that when you face the Dark God you need not be ashamed.
You have learned the laws of C_______. Keep them in your heart. Use them as your guides when things are their darkest. They will not fail you if you interpret them with humanity and kindness. You must be gentle. Your first duty is to understand."
This - she didn't know if this had happened or not, if this someone who she respected and trusted had said these words in this way. But it was true. It was true, and she wanted to be sworn to be that. She had to do this.
It was her duty.
She stood, a little bit shakily. Took a step towards the chamber. Another. What was inside wasn't reaching now. It knew she'd get there.
Another step and she'd be inside. Her hands were cold and stiff, but she still curled them into the tightest fists she could manage. She was afraid, of course she was afraid, but that didn't mean she had to show it.
She took that last step. The door silently closed behind her, leaving her in complete darkness. Beneath her feet the flagstones dissolved, and she fell, but slowly, drifting this way and that like a feather.
You won't break me, she thought, wincing at her own defiance. I've worked for this for years, I've made it through every trial. Is this the best you can do?
It... thought back, soundlessly, somewhere in that space behind her mind and her ears. Something in its... not a voice. It wasn't like any sensation she could remember feeling. Something suggested that it was faintly amused.
You mortals are like fish swimming in a globe of glass.
That globe is your world. You do not see beyond it.
I am all around that globe, everywhere at once.
I am in your yesterdays and tomorrows just as I am in your today, and it all looks the same to me.
She was cold, endlessly, achingly cold. The thing in the chamber had killed people before. Opened the door to reveal bodies with faces that had lost all hope of sunrise, or simply to show withered flesh and bared bones. It had driven people insane. And it had let plenty of others walk out, shaken and injured but alive and sane and ready to become -
Now we shall see.