Alisa

Help.

Grow.

DieObject.

“Written… in your own blood. The golem… is yours.”

Î clutched a spare piece of parchment to the shallow wound on her forearm. She had looked the other way while Tool made the cut. It hadn’t hurt as bad as she had feared, but it still stung. Î would have preferred to use any of the 48 other inks, whatever they might be.

“Take… an object which you may hide… that ring, there… two tables to your left.”

Î went over to the table. There were several rings on it, as well as a beaker full of a thick, cough coloured liquid. Î grabbed a large ebony one.

“Will this work?”

Shadows danced in Emet’s eyes, “It has never… been put to a greater use. Carve the golem’s name… into the ring. If the golem… touches an object writ with its name… it will be… unmade.”

Î had been thinking about the golem’s name all night. She had always loved the sound of her mother’s name, so that was what she carved into the ring with her steel inscription tool. Only after carving the name did Î notice a problem.

“Can I carve a different ring?” Î asked. “This one doesn’t fit. It’s too big.”

The ring clattered to the floor to reinforce her remark.

“Once written…. a name cannot be… unwritten. You will use… that ring.”

Emet might have thought that settled it, but she didn’t even have fingers. Î looked around the workshop for inspiration. There! Under the table next to her was a bundle of leather cords. She looped one through the ring and tied it off, fashioning a crude necklace. Î hung it about her neck, under her dress. She figured the golem wouldn’t like it if the first thing it saw was the ring which could destroy it.

“Insert the scroll.”

Î did so. It took her a few tries to fit the golem’s eye over it, as both it and the golem had shrunk during the firing process. However, once Î got the eye in a little ways the binding runes began calling to each other and it spun into alignment with a loud grinding noise.

“Reveal… your golem’s name.”

“I name you Alisa!” Î said.

The first sound Alisa made was a low chuckle. She sounded like a nine year old maiden child, but one who was unafraid to laugh. It was the laugh of one who did not fear judgment and had never felt pain. The sound was so pure and rich, Î couldn’t help but join. Alisa’s fearlessness inspired Î and she too laughed without worry. Î knew, the way people always do, she had a friend.

“Ah… Joy… An emotion…. I’d forgot.” Emet sighed.

Î’s laughter eventually dimmed to a smile, but there was a light left twinkling in her eyes which had not been there before.

“Do I get to name you now?” Alisa asked brightly.

“Lanet already named me. I’m Î.”

“Who is Lanet?”

“A Peaceseeker.”

“What is a Peaceseeker?”

“My mom died when I was young. She was Lanet’s wife and that made him upset so now he’s looking for happiness.”

“Has he found it?”

“No, he hasn’t got there yet. He said it was a long walk.”

“What can I name?”

Î picked up the crude burlap doll she had sewn the day before. She had painted it with blue runes in the same manner as her dress and stuffed a scroll inside it’s head. Emet had wanted Î to name it, but she was happy to share. She placed it in Alisa’s hands.

“You can name this golem.”

“What does it do?”

“I told it to Travel and Create. It will die if someone destroys its eye. Its eye isn’t on its body, though. It’s different from yours.”

“Where is its eye?”

“Emet says I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

Alisa laughed, “Okay. I name it David.”

Alisa placed David on the table.

“It will not—“Emet was interrupted by the girls gasps as the golem rose to his feet.

“Unexpected… A golem kineser is very rare. They may make only… a single golem. Unfortunate… A golem should only have one master… lest wills collide.”

David tottered around unsteadily in front of the maiden children. His limp arms swung on their stitches as he walked, and his rounded legs rocked unevenly. He stumbled left and then right and then he fell over backwards, flipped off the table and landed in a bowl of chestnuts. He worked himself free from their roots and staggered towards Î. He stopped at the base of her feet and rocked back on his legs to look up at her. Î met his gaze, curious. David must have seen something in her eyes for he nodded slowly. Then he turned and began waddling determinedly to the door. As he came across a pile of rusty chisels he stopped suddenly, again rocking back as though struck with an epiphany. The chisels, even the little ones, were longer than David was tall, but this did not deter him. He wrapped both his wool stuffed arms about the smallest one, and tugged it free.

“What is he doing?” Î asked Emet.

“It was carved in silver; veracious tool; and given the emotion… love. It knows it will die from the moment it is born. It lives… to create. Creation is its…. only possible legacy. Creation is its only means… to immortality.”

David dragged the chisel out the door.

“Don’t golems only live for seven times seven days?” Î asked, watching him go. If there was a way to make Emet live longer then Î could help Lord Glove stop being so sad and worried all the time. He always tried to smile when she was with him, but she could tell. Lanet had been the same.

“Life is measured…by its impact on the world not… its length. To change the world forever… is to become immortal.”

Emet took a deep breath, long and slow. Then, Emet began to tell a tale.

“A treasure was buried… in the lands now known as Glovedom. This treasure was not gold nor jewels… it was not diamonds nor silver. It was far… more valuable. Power. The power of creation’s own… divinity incarnate. Akin to magic… but far older. Older than anything.

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“Fifty years ago a king, called evil by his enemies… coveted the treasure. He decided he would conquer Ganter and by extension… Glovedom. The king of Ganter—King Tate… charged Glove with mounting the first… defence. He bestowed upon him the title… of lord for his services.

“And so Lord Glove hired Rebeka and made her fashion golems to defend… the dom. Ten in number, these were golems of immense power… carved in copper, gold, and steel; told only… to grow and destroy. With Lord Glove as their leader, they destroyed the attacking army. Worried about retribution… Lord Glove led a counterattack on the evil kingdom.

“The first land he encountered… ruled by Lady Seshtern, who served under… the evil king. Those who did not flee… died fighting. The golems… leveled the keep and Lord Glove led them after… the survivors.

“Rebeka sent new golems… to join his force. Smaller, weaker… but of blinding speed. All joined his army… in less than a day… no matter how far from home he marched.

“Again and again… Lord Glove crushed their armies. All who remained… the largest army… since the days… of King Stalwart—hid behind the capital’s thick walls with their catapults. The walls did not protect them. Before the ten creations of death… drew within range... the soldiers learned their king was dead. They turned to his lords and… his ladies. They were also dead. As were his commanders…. Ganter… doubled in size that day. The capital is now known as the Burned City… The king’s name has been… forgotten.

“The golems… would not accept peace. For thirty days… the golems raged, growing exponentially stronger. When… they finally failed, they were… iron giants, towering high above the ravaged lands. They stand still… Statues serving as a reminder… of death to those… who dare not remember. The story… is not often told. Those who survived are now dead, and… few wished to tell their tale. Such is Lord Glove’s legacy. Such is Rebeka’s.

“A human… such as yourself has many paths. Lord Glove conquered doms. You… may have a girl. Rebeka guides you through me…to change her legacy. A legacy of kineser… who are free, and… whose lives are not hounded… by death.”

Lord Glove had led an army? And had killed hundreds of people? And had destroyed a kingdom? It was too much for Î. She began to tremble.

“The evil king,” Î asked, “were his people evil too?”

“I cannot… remember. My word of death… is Decay. I grow weaker… my memories drain…like sand…”

Î thought the people must have been evil. Why else would Lord Glove have killed them?

“They had to be evil,” she said.

Alisa took Î in her clay arms and pulled her close, hugging her. Alisa was warm, as though some of the heat from the kiln had stayed in her.

“What do you know about Lord Glove?” Alisa asked her.

“He let me stay with him. He smiles a lot, even though he is sad. Gar likes him. He is kind.”

Î felt Alisa grow warmer. Alisa laughed, “There you go.”

Î gripped Alisa in a hug of her own before backing away, “Thank you.”

“Are we done today?” she asked Emet.

“Yes…” said Emet, “You may go.”

Î showed Alisa the stairs, “We have to climb up and down these every day. They’re really long. And slippery, so be careful. I skinned my knee this morning.” She pulled up her dress to show Alisa.

The golem studied the stairs, “Let me carry you. I won’t fall.”

Î laughed, thinking Alisa was making a joke. The golem was smaller than Î. Alisa, on the other hand, seemed to think Î was laughing in delight with the idea, for she promptly picked Î up and set her on her shoulders. Î shrieked. They were to going fall! She wrapped her arms around Alisa’s head to steady herself, but she didn’t need to. Alisa’s step never faltered or slowed the whole way up the stairs. She moved so smoothly Î didn’t even rock in her perch on Alisa’s shoulders.

Gar was bouncing dice off the wall. As he came into view Î heard him groan.

“Hi Gar!” Î called brightly, “did you lose again?”

Gar jumped, “Didn’t notice you come in.”

He turned to greet her, “Aye. It’s like my father always used to say, ‘If you bet against yourself you’ll always lose.’”

He finally noticed that Î was up on someone’s shoulders. He stared at Alisa in wonder.

“No wonder I didn’t hear you climbing the stairs. Your golem’s as silent as an owl’s…,” he flushed, “beg yer pardon.”

“As an owl’s what?” Î asked, interested.

“Never you mind,” Gar said hurriedly, “How about you introduce me to your golem there?”

“Her name is Alisa. And he’s Gar,” Î said.

Gar’s eyes widened, “I recognize her now! That’s the lump of clay you got me to carry. Near threw out my back. She’s a right work of art miss, a right work.”

Alisa laughed. Î felt herself swelling with pride.

“That’s as pleasant a laugh as I ever heard,” Gar said.

Alisa’s laughter grew and Î had to join her, “Will you be coming to supper?”

Gar smiled, but shook his head, “Lord Glove got back an hour ago. He’ll be wanting me to write a report sharpish. I still got the time to walk you over though, don’t you worry.”

He stood and brushed the straw from his pants, “I ought to take a broom to this place one of these days.”

“Don’t worry, I can get Tool to do it,” After Gar’s last compliment, Î was eager to show off her golems. Tool was soon flailing away at rat droppings, insects, and bits of straw.

“I won’t say nothing bad about Rebeka, but I must say ma’am, it’s sure nice to have a kineser who is interested in cleaning.”

Î felt as if she had grown several feet taller. She desperately wanted to say something clever or witty, but couldn’t think of anything. She blushed, much to her chagrin, mentally kicking herself for a lack of a response.

“Can we leave him to it?” Gar asked.

Î nodded, still mute. Gar took Î’s hand in his right, Alisa’s hand in his left, and set off for the manor.

Lord Glove was sitting at the head chair of the dining hall when they entered. Î ran over to him and leapt at him, wrapping her arms about his neck. Lord Glove returned her hug.

“Hello Î,” Lord Glove said, smiling, “Who’s she?”

“She’s Alisa, my new golem. Can she have supper with us?”

Lord Glove pulled out the chair to his left, “Certainly. Please, Alisa, take a seat. I am Lord Glove, ruler of Glovedom.”

“Thank you, Lord Glove.”

“You are well made, if you don’t mind my saying. Well done Î. The glowing image rune on her forehead is a lovely touch, most charming.”

Î hadn’t looked at Alisa since before they’d left the workshop. Not only was the rune on her forehead glowing with a faint white light, the rest of the runes on her body appeared to have vanished, “I didn’t mean for it to do that.”

Alisa laughed and Lord Glove smiled, “I think it looks wonderful all the same. Please, sit. Let us eat.”

Î nodded, pulling out the chair on Lord Glove’s right. Lord Glove’s servant, Yekha, entered a moment later to serve them. He was the oldest, and only, servant in the entire dom. His face was wrinkled with more lines of sorrow than joy, his hair was silver, but his gaze was strong and his back was straight. He winked to Î as he approached and gestured to the plate he carried with a flourish. Pancakes, made from celery and heaped with gravy. They were Yekha’s specialty, Î’s favorite, and one of Lord Glove’s most hated foods. The old serving man knew this, but he also knew Lord Glove’s only complaint would be to chew a little quicker, and so he doted on Î.

Yekha placed the plate on the table and bowed back a step.

“Pancakes for you Lord Glove, you Î, and should you wish, you Alisa.”

Alisa let out a surprised laugh, “How’d you know my name?”

“’Tis a servant’s job to listen miss. Listen when you should be listening, and listen twice as hard when you shouldn’t be, just in case.”

Lord Glove and Î began heaping their plates. Yekha passed Lord Glove the boat of gravy, “How is the girl Lord Glove?”

Î didn’t know what girl they were talking about. She listened absently, more focused on stuffing bits of pancake into her mouth.

Lord Glove smiled, though somewhat sadly.

“Under care. Dara just had twins and said she wouldn’t mind a third.”

“Where did you find the poor lad?” Yekha asked.

Î poured some more gravy onto her next pancake.

“Rescued him from a burning farmhouse. I heard the screams and dashed in, he was the only one I managed to save.”

Yekha shook his head, “Right shame. I’m glad Dara was willing. All girls need a family.”

Î thought of her own father. He had died… she wasn’t sure anymore. Two years ago? Or was it three? She was ashamed of herself for not remembering. The pancake filling her mouth suddenly felt like it was going to choke her. She swallowed it as best she could. She didn’t feel very hungry any more.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, pushing away her plate. Yekha looked at her, surprised, but when he saw her face he instantly became sympathetic.

“You go on now miss,” he said, taking her plate, “I’ll make sure they’re warm for you in the morning.”

Lord Glove stood as well, and wrapped an arm about her shoulders, “Don’t worry, he’ll be well cared for. Dara’s a lovely woman. It’s a shame I’ve been so busy. I’d have liked to introduce you to everyone in the town.”

“Can we see them tomorrow?” Î asked hopefully, trying to keep a quaver out of her voice. Lord Glove had been very busy. She had hardly been able to spend any time with him at all.

“Well…” he looked as though he was about to say no, but then: “I’ll find the time. I’m sure one day off won’t hurt either of us. A girl needs to run around in the fresh air and sunlight every once in a while.”