“The world is gray.”
As epitaphs went, it was the briefest Yi Qin had read. Her fingers brushed over the rough, beautiful calligraphy of the scroll. The letters had been drawn in blood. She could feel the echo of Liu Song’s power.
She looked back at the body of her fellow conjuror. He sat propped against the wall, his head lolling down onto his chest. His sleeves had been rolled back and, with precise care, he had opened long cuts down the inside of each forearm.
Why, she wondered, had he called her to his remote mountain home, only to kill himself hours before she arrived?
Well; there was a simple way to find out. She just had to ask him.
There was no one else in the small, plain house. No one had lit the lantern that rested on a table beside the body, to guide Liu Song’s spirit to the Silent Mountain. His spirit would be lost on the borderland. She had until nightfall–an hour, yet–to commend his soul to the care of Wu Feng Kai Fan; Watcher Over Those Who Are Gone But Not Forgotten. Time enough.
She reached into her sleeve, and pressed her thumb against the dart that was sheathed there. The momentary blossoming of pain was familiar. She rubbed the blood onto her fingertips and set to her own calligraphy; drawing the necessary symbol on the reverse of the scroll.
The Fourth Unspoken Word; The Word That Binds And Releases Spirits.
“I am here, Liu Song,” she said. “I would know why you called for me, yet did not wait.”
“If I had waited,” a voice answered, “you would have tried to stop me. But if I had not called you, no-one would have lit a lantern for me.”
“And is that all you require of me? To light the lantern, and send you to the Silent Mountain?”
“Only this,” he said. She could see him, now, superimposed over his own corpse. The effect was disturbing; as if the body was somehow being reinhabited.
“You knew I would do this. But you knew, too, I would ask you why. Tell me, Liu Song; what was the emptiness in the world, that made you flee from it?”
“You have it in your hands,” he said.
“The world is gray,” she quoted back to him. “It is not gray, Liu Song. The world is full of colour, and beauty, and terror. It is full of joy, and sadness. I walk the world and see all of these things.”
“You see them,” he agreed. His ghost stood up, the spirit rising above the flesh. Involuntarily, Yi Qin took a pace backwards. “But do you feel them?”
She frowned.
“These things exist, whether I feel them or not.”
“They exist without us, certainly. But do we exist without them? I am an old man; I was a conjuror in the Emperor’s service for twenty years. I saw many things in that time, and I lost many things. Too many.”
“So you came here,” she said. “A mountain home in Guang Lo province. Artists flock to capture the beauty of this place.”
“They have never truly succeeded. And as they failed, so I failed. There is no power in beauty that can move me; not any more. The spring blossom on the trees is merely splashes of incidental colour. The thunder of the waterfalls is but a distracting noise. The scent of the air is just a smell. Perhaps on the Silent Mountain, I will recover my taste for beauty; for I can find none in the World of Breath.”
“There is beauty here,” she said.
“There is,” he agreed. “The beauty has not gone. It is my capacity to perceive it that has been lost. We are conjurors, Yi Qin; apart from the world. We see wonders beyond the understanding of any fisherman, any merchant. But all things fade.”
“Only if we permit it,” she said.
“And that is precisely what we do. We stand apart from the world. We do not wed. We do not even have friends; only others of our kind, as detached as ourselves. When did you last laugh, Yi Qin? When did you last weep?”
“I weep,” she told him. “From time to time.”
“And laugh? When did you last laugh?”
She did not answer that.
“It will happen,” he said. “It happens to all of us, if we live long enough. I should have died in battle, facing some great demon. It should not have come to this.”
“No,” Yi Qin said. “It should not. If you wanted laughter and tears, Liu Song, you should have immersed yourself in the world. You should have bought a house in a great city, and surrounded yourself with those who have not lost the capacity for feeling.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “If you think this is wise, then perhaps you should do this.”
“Perhaps,” she echoed.
There was silence, for a time.
“Send me onwards,” he said. “And pray for me.”
She said nothing. She stepped forwards, squeezing more blood from her unwilling thumb. A drop of it was enough; the First Unspoken Word, The Word That Releases Angry Flames.
The lantern that Liu Song had prepared caught light. Yi Qin knelt, and bowed her head to the floor.
“Goddess, hear me,” she said. “I send this spirit to your care. I ask that you soothe him, for he is weary, and in need of rest and succour. Let him wander among your courts and gardens; and let him find there what he has lost, here in the World of Breath.”
She rose. Liu Song’s spirit was gone; only his corpse remained, an uninhabited man. Yi Qin turned, and walked out of the building.
In front of her, over the canopy of the forest and the jagged mountains beyond, the sun was setting, turning the sky from pale blue to brilliant orange.
The world was not gray.
Not yet.
Brian Dolton‘s fiction has appeared in Abyss & Apex, Flashing Swords, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, and Intergalactic Medicine Show, among others. He has been writing for many years, and will continue until they pry the keyboard from his cold, dead hands. (P.S. If any of you know who the “they” in question are, he’d love to hear from you, so he can make suitable preparations.)
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26 Responses to “THE GRAY WORLD • by Brian Dolton”
Comments
« MUG’S GAME • by Sarah Hilary | Home | CAVEDWELLER 2.0 • by Greg Likins »
June 1st, 2008 at 2:49 am
Great Story, Brian. Excellent addition to the Yi Qin stories.
June 1st, 2008 at 3:35 am
A lovely story, Brian. Congratulations and well done.
R
June 1st, 2008 at 5:58 am
As beautiful as haiku. This story is a good introduction for those who have not yet met Yi Qin, but is enjoyable for those of us who have. Well done!
June 1st, 2008 at 6:46 am
Quite enjoyable. Now, where do I find more of the Yi Qin stories?
June 1st, 2008 at 7:56 am
Quite compellingly beautiful.
Cheers
MArk
June 1st, 2008 at 8:25 am
Well, I did not know there were other Yi Qin stories prior to reading these comments, and I have to say that the story is definately strong enough to stand on its own. It was beautiful, truly colorful.
Great work!
June 1st, 2008 at 12:47 pm
Great story to start the month. Without description, I still saw Yi Qin and her surroundings. Well done.
June 1st, 2008 at 2:04 pm
Hahaha! I meant, END the month.
June 1st, 2008 at 4:10 pm
Gads. Sorry to hijack your comments. I was right the first time. (yes, I spend many days not knowing what day it is…) Something went wonky with my internet connection last night, and it somehow set my computer clock back. I saw later in the day that it was the 31st on my computer and came back to fix my “mistake” here.
Soooooo…. Great story to START the month.
Sorry for being such a dork about it.
Hooray for June First.
June 1st, 2008 at 5:48 pm
Great voice and feel here. I really enjoyed this tale.
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:40 am
Thanks!
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:47 am
Let’s see if I can get my comment mark-up right…
Abyss and Apex has two up, one in issue 20 and one in issue 25, both of which are still accessible. There ‘s another in IGMS, in issue 3 (but you’ll have to pay for that one, unlike the A&A ones which are free). Others are forthcoming – two in Black Gate, and another in the “Paper Blossoms, Sharpened Steel” collection which won’t be out for another 18 months or so.
The earliest two published (from IGMS 3 and A&A 20) are also available on Anthology Builder, a site that allows you to create your own anthology from a steadily-growing range of stories – well worth checking out.
That’ll do for the self-promotion…
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:48 am
Thanks to you too!
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:48 am
And thanks to you three… hmm…
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:49 am
Thank you – I’m glad it’s appreciated.
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:51 am
I try my best to make sure that the Yi Qin stories can stand alone for those who haven’t read any others, while at the same time not repeating too much for the people who have. It’s a difficult line to walk, and particularly tricky in a 1000-word limit (I am, by nature, a “wordy” writer, so flash length is always a challenge for me…). Glad you ilked it!
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:52 am
I’m glad you liked it, whatever day you read it on
June 2nd, 2008 at 1:52 am
Thanks, glad you liked it!
June 2nd, 2008 at 6:34 am
What a great story. Best I’ve read on here in a while. This one will stay with me.
June 2nd, 2008 at 8:07 am
Excellent story. I love that she’s arguing the merits of life with someone who is already dead. I’ll make sure to check out the rest of the series.
June 2nd, 2008 at 8:57 am
Thanks. Those are words every writer truly loves to hear!
June 2nd, 2008 at 8:58 am
Thanks – I hope you enjoy them!
June 4th, 2008 at 8:25 pm
I liked the subject matter and the message. And while you wasted no time at the beginning capturing our attention and drawing us in very effectively, I thought the dialog went on a bit long–meaning I thought the point was made, and made well, a few paragraphs before the dialog drew to a close. But that detracted very little from the story.
Good stuff, Brian. I’m looking forward to more Yi Qin stories–in fact, I have both Abyss and Apex stories printed and ready to read.
June 5th, 2008 at 7:27 am
I’ll be interested to ehar what you think.
Yes, I do have a general problem with redundant/repetitive dialogue. As noted; I am a naturally wordy writer. I really do need to get one of those novels finished soon…
June 7th, 2008 at 7:00 am
Beautiful.
Jennifer
June 9th, 2008 at 10:13 pm
Liked the other worldliness in this, and the thought behind it, too.