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  Epos (Maltia)

  2 December 2355

  Ethan’s 42nd day on Tersain

  – – – – – – – – – –

  Immediately after the mysterious event that erupted around Ethan, a great commotion breaks out aboard the Epos and on the island to which the airship is moored. Many of the men on deck turn their weapons on the boy, while the sentinels scan the sky in frenzy, fearing a republican attack.

  The entire crew, roused by the young man’s superhuman scream, goes on full alert. The captain has the men mobilised, then reaches the upper deck with a group of fighters. Meanwhile, from the nearby fragment numerous aircraft are taking off, beginning to probe the surroundings in search of enemies.

  “The lateral engines are cold,” reports a man as he reaches the captain. “It’ll take a while to start them up.”

  “Why weren’t they in slow combustion?”

  “They were, but they suddenly went out, just like the ilectron generators.”

  Once in the area where Ethan is, the captain has him surrounded. The boy has fallen to his knees, his gaze fixed on the ground. Dawn is crouched beside him, holding him as though he were a child while she shouts at the nearby men to lower their weapons. Close by, the philosopher Ehliana also calls for calm.

  “What happened?” asks Martin Young, drawing closer.

  “The boy used mayea, I believe,” states Hoping, the only other philosopher present. “It would seem he extinguished every source of light in the vicinity, and not only that.”

  “He’s delirious,” Ehliana interjects. “He’s not aware of what he’s doing.”

  “I know about his illness,” replies the captain, approaching Ethan and Dawn.

  He scrutinises the two figures. The boy is slumped against the young woman. He keeps his eyes closed and breathes in slight gasps. Dawn continues to hold him protectively, glancing up at the captain from the corner of her eye.

  “Ethan,” calls the captain. “Ethan Knight?”

  No reaction.

  “He needs to go back inside,” says Dawn. “His body is cooling down fast.”

  Martin raises his gaze. The temperature inside the Epos rose abruptly after the otherworldly cry echoed out, and the same seems to have happened outside, although the currents are already sweeping away the warm air.

  “Take him to the iatreion, but keep an eye on him,” orders the captain.

  He sees Aimond Lacelet rushing up behind him.

  “Archeos,” Martin calls. “Go with them.”

  Then he lowers his voice and adds:

  “Did you hear the scream?”

  “Yes,” the old man nods. “Energheia.”

  “Indeed.”

  Dawn manages to get Ethan back on his feet and starts guiding him into the airship. Apart from Ehliana, she allows no one else to come near the boy. The latter does not seem entirely unconscious, for he somehow moves his legs to follow the rebel… yet he shows no other sign of awareness.

  What the devil is going on? the captain wonders, scratching his head.

  ???

  Having laid Ethan down on the bed in his room in the iatreion, Archeos persuades the guards who accompanied the group to leave, and closes the door. He then turns to those present. Hoping and Ehliana watch the sick youth with unease, while Dawn persists in staying beside him, continually scrutinising his face, once again drowsy.

  Since his extraordinary scream, not a single word has left the boy’s mouth.

  “Well then,” the old man begins. “Dawn, did you do something?”

  The rebel stares at him as though she doesn’t understand.

  “You put me to sleep earlier,” the old man says. “What did you do afterwards?”

  Ehliana looks first at the philosopher and then at Dawn. Then she seems to grasp what is happening.

  “Oh, did she use sleep-mayea on you as well, master?” she asks.

  “As well?”

  “She knocked Hoping out, and almost me,” the woman explains.

  “Ah, so that’s why I was asleep?” the doctor remarks, astonished. “In fact, her face was the last thing I remembered.”

  Apparently, unlike his colleague, he had not realised in the least what the girl had done to him.

  “In any case, master, Dawn only wanted to try a mayea to bring Ethan’s fever down,” Ehliana explains. “She has nothing to do with what just happened.”

  “Then tell it, so that I may understand,” urges the old man. “I’ve just woken up in a storage closet. I am not very up to date on events.”

  “Well…” says Ehliana, looking at Dawn.

  The latter lowers her gaze for a moment. Then she begins to recount. Archeos listens in silence to what Ethan did and said in his delirium.

  At last, the philosopher turns to Ehliana, who in the meantime has assessed the sick boy’s condition.

  “How is he?” he asks her.

  “The fever has dropped enormously,” the woman replies. “All the symptoms are subsiding. There’s… ah, it’s absurd… there’s even an improvement in the inflammation around the wound.”

  “Continue to monitor him,” orders the old man.

  “I believe that, at this point, I could intervene with mayea,” Ehliana proposes. “While there is an opening in the illness.”

  “Very well. I leave him in your care.”

  With those words, Archeos leaves the room. He does not even bother to reprimand Dawn for her actions, something no one seems to care about at the moment.

  Ehliana looks at Ethan, then rolls up her sleeves and spreads her arms. Along her skin appear symbols of the universe.

  “First circle,” she says.

  Above the young man a ring of figures linked by luminous lines materialises.

  “Second circle.”

  Another ring appears a little further on.

  What happened, just now? the woman’s thoughts begin to flow through her mind. That phenomenon… what sort of mayea was it supposed to be? It was so extensive… powerful. And yet, I saw no symbols of the universe, nor did I even remotely recognise the type of mayea.

  Not that Ehliana considers herself an expert mage. Far from it. She has strict standards when judging competence in any subject, and knows well that she is far from meeting them in that field. But she still believes she has at least a general idea of the mayeas that exist. That one, however…

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  No… I must not think about that now. I have a task to carry out: I cannot waste this opportunity, or make a mistake in the procedure and harm Ethan.

  Even the sudden drop in the boy’s fever, as well as the abrupt reduction of the other symptoms of infection, is unusual. But whatever the reason, his body has managed on its own to return to a state closer to normality, which means that the philosopher no longer needs to fear upsetting his internal balance by forcefully lowering his temperature. She can, indeed, lower it a little more and prevent it from rising again by acting directly on the centres that govern fever.

  Dawn watches in apprehension as the philosopher works to help Ethan. It takes a while…

  … but at last, Ehliana dissolves the mayea and touches the young man’s forehead. Then she smiles at the girl.

  “Did it work?” Dawn asks.

  “I should have ensured the crisis won’t flare up again,” the other replies.

  “How?” Hoping asks.

  “The body was reacting,” Ehliana merely explains, too tired to go into detail, “and I encouraged it.”

  Dawn looks at Ethan’s face. The redness has diminished greatly, and the skin patches have vanished. His breathing, too, is now far calmer.

  “He gave us quite a lot to think about,” the philosopher remarks. “I didn’t know he was a mage.”

  “I hate it when mages fall into delirium,” declares the male doctor. “Luckily, we’ve only got a few aboard.”

  Ehliana scrutinises her colleague for several seconds, weighing whether to reply.

  Saying that when there are several mages in the room, yourself included, sounds a bit odd, is the thought she holds back from voicing.

  Then she turns her gaze away to look at Dawn: the girl has a pensive air as she continues to watch the sleeping youth.

  On the girl’s face, the philosopher has the impression of glimpsing a mixture of worry and…

  … distrust? Possible? But whatever for?

  ???

  I wake up the following morning. I have only vague memories of the period during which I was feverish, including what I got up to at the peak of my delirium.

  And yet, something seems to have remained with me.

  “I dreamt,” I explain to Archeos when he comes to see me. “And I think I heard you talking… perhaps I even replied.”

  “Indeed, you did,” the old man confirms. “Have you any idea what you were saying while you were delirious?”

  “You’re wondering why I mentioned Energheia?” I ask, pressing my sound arm against a thermometer I’m holding under my armpit. “Perhaps I said a random word. Even though…”

  “What?”

  “I must have dreamt it and forgotten it, because I have a kind of lingering sensation about it.”

  “What sort?”

  “It isn’t clear enough, I’m sorry.”

  “Any other particular sensations?”

  “Well, perhaps… but why are you asking me all this? I don’t think my delirious ramblings are important.”

  Archeos doesn’t reply at once. He seems to be thinking over what ought to be said.

  “Let’s say you did something truly unusual,” he affirms then. “And perhaps we could understand what it is by assessing what happened to you while you were delirious.”

  “If you say so…”

  He seems to be kind of avoiding answering… avoiding taking a stance. It’s clear he has something in mind, but he still doesn’t want to share it. Assuming he doesn’t have the precise intention of hiding it from me.

  Damn, I really made a mess of things last night. I didn’t imagine a fever could lead me to do the things they’ve told me about. I’m as confused as the rebels about what happened to me.

  I wish I could remember it properly… especially the part where I used mayea. It must have been… impressive.

  “So then… the stars here are different from those of my world,” I begin. “I must have noticed it during the delirium. I presume it depends on the legend of the Fragmentation: the stars changed when the cataclysm happened, right?”

  “That is what is told,” Archeos nods.

  “Let’s see… I already suspected it, but I’m ever more convinced that before the Fragmentation this world was very similar to Earth, with some differences such as the existence of mayea. It was the Mastodonic Sundering that changed everything… including the sky.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You asked what stayed in my head, didn’t you?” I say. “These are hypotheses, of course.”

  “What else?”

  “Well then… the lightning strike that hit me before I woke up here comes back to my mind,” I force myself to bring the memories up. “I think it’s responsible for my arrival… but at the same time, it isn’t. Perhaps it’s a cofactor.”

  I fix my gaze on Archeos.

  “It seems my mind’s been working in my sleep,” I declare with a smile.

  “Working, eh?”

  That’s precisely the impression: that my brain didn’t sit idle during the delirium. Whether it was reasoning, intuitions, or who knows what else is impossible to say, as I have no memory of the paths I followed… only of the result: a series of concepts that now surface naturally in my mind.

  It’s so strange… a bit like everything else. Yet… I don’t know, I’m rather calm about it. I don’t understand it, but it doesn’t worry me either. Perhaps it’s because I feel much better than before, and for the moment that’s enough for me.

  The philosopher straightens up in his chair.

  “Who knows, they might have been prophetic ravings,” he says.

  “Divinatory mayea?”

  “I’m not referring to that. But never mind, it was a foolish remark.”

  Archeos gets to his feet.

  “I shall report to the captain,” he informs me. “Take care: rest and recover quickly.”

  When the old man has gone, I rub my chin, looking thoughtful.

  It seems they were all greatly struck by my delirium. Was it because I mentioned Energheia and some sort of gift? Or perhaps because of the mayea with which I extinguished all the fires and electrical devices?

  I stretch. At any rate, I really am much better, apart from a slight pain in my arm. Moreover, ever since waking I’ve had a pleasant sense of relaxation, not so much physical as mental.

  I wonder what that depends on…

  Ehliana comes over to me.

  “Come on!” she says. “Give me the thermometer.”

  I take the device out from under my shirt and stare at it. Then I hand it to the philosopher.

  “Almost no fever,” the woman decrees. “It’s astonishing that you’re this well, given how you were yesterday.”

  “Thanks to your mayea, isn’t it?” I observe.

  “Oh, no, I only supported a process already under way,” Ehliana explains.

  “Still, you brought me to near recovery,” I reply. “Thank you… for everything.”

  The philosopher smiles, a gleam flashing in her red eyes.

  “Be sure to thank Dawn as well,” she recommends.

  She passes a hand over my hair in a sort of caress. Then she moves away to disinfect the thermometer.

  Dawn, eh?

  I’m not entirely sure, but I have the feeling the girl was near me while I was delirious. Certainly, I can still smell it in my nostrils… the rebel’s scent. I know it because of our contact during training, and now it keeps lingering in my sense of smell.

  It would be embarrassing to say it out loud, but it’s one of the factors that puts me in a good mood. Lost in my thoughts, I’m usually not much inclined to pay heed to my senses, yet I’ve nonetheless begun associating that scent with a series of positive sensations the girl gives me. That’s why perceiving it so strongly makes me feel good.

  What a nuisance, I think, looking at my broken, splinted arm. I’ll have it for at least a month.

  – – – – – – – – – –

  Epos (Maltia)

  5 December 2355

  Ethan’s 45th day on Tersain

  – – – – – – – – – –

  Three days later, I’m discharged. In truth, I had already been fairly well before, but they kept me in bed longer than expected to prevent a relapse.

  Even with my arm in a splint, I’ve been able to go back to helping Archeos with his work, and I finally managed to go and see the Epos’s engine with Nipria. The young woman came to visit me every day during my stay. I’m grateful for such attentions, which I had only ever received from family when I was on Earth.

  I was quite a lonely person there, I reflect as we observe a mighty, luminous contraption, the core of the airship’s main thruster. Here, on the other hand, it’s the exact opposite.

  I didn’t imagine I could appreciate company this much.

  Still… I wonder what’s become of Dawn…

  Apart from a sporadic visit, the rebel hasn’t shown herself again. I’m puzzled about it, and I can’t help thinking she’s somehow avoiding me.

  Was I that frightening while delirious?

  So I make a decision: once the tour with Nipria is over, I go to Dawn’s cabin and knock. Since no one answers, I head to the room where she and I train. I find her practising mayea: with her staff lying abandoned a little further away, the girl is creating structures of ice between her hands, making them shine with inner light.

  “Dawn?”

  Hearing me call her, the rebel turns. She seems surprised.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Practising?” I ask.

  “Yeah… and you?”

  “I’ve just come back from a tour with Nipria,” I reply, shrugging.

  “Good… I hope you had fun,” the girl smiles.

  I feel as though there’s something strange in Dawn’s expression. In fact, her whole attitude is unusual, ever since I showed up.

  “Everything all right?” I ask her.

  “Of course! Why?”

  “I don’t know… I haven’t seen you recently, so…”

  “Sorry,” she says, looking away.

  “Why?”

  “Well…”

  A brief pause. Then, after a quick sigh, as if to steel herself…

  “Actually, I thought you might have used a mental mayea on me,” Dawn explains, smiling in embarrassment. “I mean, when you were delirious.”

  “What? Why on earth?” I ask, astonished.

  “Well… right after you made all the lights go out, I felt strange. Then…”

  She continues looking elsewhere.

  “What?”

  “Nothing… I was just a bit too protective of you.”

  She gives a nervous laugh.

  “Let’s say it seemed unusual to me… you know what I’m like, that’s not me,” she says.

  All right… that’s bizarre to hear. In any case, it’s clear this is something important to her.

  “I don’t see what the problem is,” I reply, perplexed. “Besides, weren’t you sceptical that mine was mayea?”

  “Yes… which is why my fear was a stupid one.”

  “Stupid, yes, yet you still listened to it!”

  I smile.

  “You silly.”

  “Oh, honestly!” Dawn bursts out, puffing out her cheeks. “Did you come here just to bother me? You could’ve stayed with Nipria, or maybe Ehliana, for that matter.”

  And what do they have to do with anything?

  “Perhaps I could have… but I was worried, not seeing you for days,” I declare, drawing closer.

  “Worry about yourself.”

  Dawn bends down and picks up the staff, then points it at me.

  “I said I’d beat you up,” she states. “Before calling me stupid, you’ll have to answer for your idiotic and dangerous actions.”

  Now I’m beginning to recognise her…

  “Even when I’m like this?” I ask, raising my splinted arm.

  In response, Dawn swings the staff in a quick attack at my sound arm. I raise a hand, catching the weapon in mid-air. The snap of the impact echoes through the room.

  “Too slow,” I smile. “Don’t pull those feints—by now I can tell when you’re attacking for real and when you’re not.”

  “Only because I let you,” the rebel retorts.

  “Oh, really?”

  Suddenly, her confidence makes me want to shake her a little. Just out of curiosity. And I decide that, to do so, perhaps it’s time to show her something.

  I release the staff, then raise and lower my right arm in two quick movements, using the gesture to help me focus. Immediately after, I clench my fist, then slowly open it again. Dawn instinctively steps back: a reddish light is forming between my fingers.

  “What the…?” the rebel says, eyes widening.

  The next instant… a small flame flickers on my palm.

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