by D. C. Payson
Thezdan nodded. “Our circumstances are more similar than I realized. Both displaced, both searching—”
“Both trying to find our way back home?”
Thezdan laughed. “Yes, maybe.” He stood up again. “I will disappoint the Administrator if I don’t dance.” He smiled and gave a casual salute, bowing his head slightly. “Have a good evening, Julia.”
Julia enjoyed watching the Guardian party: the dancing, the drinking, the music, the laughter. The earlier pall she’d seen hanging over the fort had all but disappeared, and she was glad that these women, girls, and young men could have a chance to celebrate and enjoy life, if only for a brief while.
Suddenly, without warning, a high-pitched horn rang out from the eastern ramparts. The sound ran through the Guardian festival like a terrible wail. The musicians fell silent. The crowd hushed to a whisper.
Thezdan pushed his way through the crowd then sprinted toward the front gate, his mother and brother following closely behind.
“What is it?” he called in the direction of the guardhouse.
“A strange light approaching! Coming up the path!”
“Can you identify it?”
“No! Should I shoot, Eo?”
“Not yet! Call a warning!”
Julia chased after them, anxious to know what was happening. She heard the guard shout something into the forest, then she saw him reemerge on the interior ramparts a moment later.
“Eodan, it’s still approaching!”
Thezdan waved for Sinox to follow. “Hurry, brother, come with me!”
Together, Thezdan and Sinox bounded up a branch leading to the upper walkways and ducked into the guardhouse on the other side. Thezdan soon caught sight of the small circle of yellow-white light moving toward them up the path.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Be still, or we will shoot!”
Despite his threats, the light kept coming. It was not more than fifty yards away.
“What do you think it is, brother?” Thezdan asked tensely.
Sinox’s eyes tracked the approaching object, carefully studying its movements.
“Should I shoot?” the guard asked again.
“No, not yet,” said Sinox.
“Sinox, tell me what you see!” Thezdan pressed.
“I’m not sure … It moves like a man, but that is not the light of a torch.” Sinox turned and faced the guard. “Give me your bow.”
The guard nodded, handing over his bow and quiver. Sinox took out two arrows. He placed one in his teeth and notched the other in the bowstring. Thezdan watched intently. Sinox had always been an expert scout, and he was an even better sniper.
Sinox drew the arrow back. He held it for only a moment—his target still approaching, now only thirty yards away—before letting it fly. It whizzed through the air and struck the dirt only a foot ahead of the moving figure. The small dust cloud from the impact glittered for a moment in the nearby light but did little to slow the figure’s advance.
“You missed?” said Thezdan, surprised.
Sinox took the second arrow from his mouth and readied it in the bow. “No, I didn’t. Call out a final warning.”
Thezdan cupped his hands around his mouth again. “Stop now or die!”
The light continued toward them.
“So be it,” muttered Sinox under his breath. He released the arrow and it flew true through the night air. But just before the fatal moment, it seemingly froze in midair then dropped harmlessly to the side.
“Goddess … ” Sinox whispered, his tone betraying a rising panic. “Brother, be ready!”
The figure came to a stop just short of the gate. It began to speak, its voice womanlike, yet otherworldly and ethereal. “Greetings, Guardians. I have come to speak with Princess Elleina.”
Thezdan leaned out of the window and held out his hands to indicate that he was unarmed. “Announce yourself!”
“You may tell the Princess that it is Balyssa. I will not leave until I speak with her.”
Thezdan looked back at Sinox. “Balyssa? Is this a name you know?”
Sinox shook his head.
Thezdan knew that they didn’t have many options. Their guest could not be ignored. “I’m going to go down, brother. You keep watch from here.”
Sinox grabbed his shoulder. “Should you call Scylld?”
“No. I do not want our visitor to think I am committed to hostility. I will take care of this myself.”
“Just be careful, Thezdan … My arrows will not protect you.”
Thezdan nodded. Without further word, he ducked through the hole leading back to the interior ramparts of the fort.
“What is going on, Eodan?” Alana called from below.
“We don’t know,” Thezdan replied as he descended the branch-stairs. “There is someone outside who announced herself as Balyssa. She has asked to speak with Princess Elleina.”
Julia’s ears perked on hearing her grandmother’s name—and the name Balyssa. “I think I have heard of Balyssa,” she said.
“What?” said Alana. “You know this visitor?”
“No, I don’t know her, but I believe my grandmother did. She told me once that Balyssa helped her flee, but I’m not sure how.”
Alana looked worried. “Someone from Princess Elleina’s age has come here in the middle of the night to see her? Something is not right. You should not go out there. Tell her to return in the morning.”
Thezdan grabbed a torch from the front wall. “No. I don’t know who it is, but this is not the sort of visitor who can be turned away. Let me go. Sinox will keep me safe from above.”
Alana shook her head. “I don’t like this, Eodan. You should not have to face this alone.”
“Hold on,” said Julia. “I’m going, too. Balyssa asked to see my grandmother, but Ina’s not here. I am. Let me go with you.”
“No,” said Thezdan. “It may not be safe.”
Julia took a step forward. “If she sent my grandmother away, she may have been the one that brought me here. I want to speak with her.”
Thezdan looked into her eyes and saw her determination. He also knew that it was not his place to deny the wishes of a Vorraver. “Very well. Stay by my side, and if I say run, run.”
Julia nodded. “I will.”
Thezdan lifted the barricade lock and pushed open one of the doors just enough to slip through the gate. He headed toward the waiting figure, Julia following behind.
It was a woman, the youthful, delicate features of her face visible under her hooded robe. There was something strange about her, though: her pale skin exuded a ghostly, iridescent glow.
“Oh my gosh,” Julia whispered. “It’s the ghost from the monastery!” She reached for her necklace, seeking its guidance. This time, however, it offered no report, neither warming nor cooling in her hand.
The woman held out her arms and bowed. Thezdan reflexively pulled Julia behind him, shielding her with his body.
“Do not worry, Guardian,” said the woman. “I am a friend.”
“Who are you, Spirit?” Thezdan asked, his body tense.
“I am Balyssa, Eodan.”
“How do you know who I am?”
“I have watched the Guardian Clan for a long time now. Your grandfather and I helped Princess Elleina escape many years ago.”
Thezdan shook his head. “You could not have known him. You would be an old woman if you had!”
“I knew him well, Eodan. He was strong. But not as strong as you might become.”
Thezdan took a step forward and squinted, trying to get a better view of their visitor. “Who are you that you do not age?”
Balyssa raised her head slightly, revealing her eyes for the first time. They were a stunning purple color. “I am not a mortal woman,” she said. “I am a servant of the high and most beautiful Dancer. I straddle the world of the living and the world of spirits.”
“We
re you the person I saw in the library?” Julia called.
“Yes, young Vorraver. For years, I have stayed there trying to summon Princess Elleina. Those efforts have left me drained, which is why you see me as I am now. I am struggling to maintain my tether to this living form, and so I slip farther and farther into the spirit realm.”
Thezdan gripped his sword, unnerved. “What brings you here?”
Balyssa extended her hand toward Julia. Thezdan stepped backward, pushing Julia back with him.
“I must speak with the girl behind you,” said Balyssa. “This world needs her.”
“You can see that she is not the one you seek,” said Thezdan. “Will you leave us now?”
“She is not Princess Elleina, no. But I know that she is a Vorraver, and I can sense the presence of the Vorraver key around her neck. So there is still hope.”
“Wait,” said Julia. “What do you know about my necklace?”
Balyssa’s gaze shifted past them. Julia glanced over her shoulder and saw Alana and Sinox coming through the gate.
Alana came up beside Thezdan and bowed her head, extending her palms forward in the formal greeting gesture. “I am Alana, Council Member and Administrator of the Guardian Clan.”
“Hello Alana,” Balyssa said. “I apologize for the circumstances and hour of my arrival, but I need to speak with the young Vorraver.”
“As with generations of Vorravers before her, she is under our protection,” said Alana firmly.
“I am glad. She will need that protection, but not at the moment. I am not a danger to her or to you.”
Alana’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”
“I am here because this world is in terrible danger. I have been trying for a very long time to summon Princess Elleina so that we might have a chance to save it.”
“Summon?” Alana repeated skeptically. “Save? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“There is a great deal for me to share. Invite me inside, and I will tell you what I know.”
Alana paused, her eyes sizing up their visitor. “Do we have a choice?” she said with obvious reluctance. “Very well. Come, but please cover yourself. Your glow would frighten the younger No.”
“That should not be necessary,” Balyssa responded. “Give me the torch. My spirit form will fade against the light.”
Alana gave an assenting nod, and Thezdan passed the torch to Balyssa.
As Balyssa pulled the torch in close to her body, her spirit-glow disappeared. In its place, the torchlight revealed a beautiful, pale-ivory complexion. Combined with the deep-purple of her irises and the few visible strands of her raven-black hair, Balyssa’s beauty was surreal—at once discomfiting and captivating.
“As you can see,” Balyssa continued, “my form is now well concealed.”
Alana swallowed hard. “Thank you. Please follow me.” She forced herself to turn around, dabbing sweat from her brow as she led Balyssa and the rest of the group back into the fort.
There were no signs of ongoing festivities in the courtyard. The bonfire still burned, but most of the Clan members were waiting in silence to see what had caused the earlier commotion.
“Is everything alright?” Lothic asked as they came through the gates.
“Yes,” Alana replied weakly.
Lothic reached for the blade in his belt, his focus locked on the strange figure. “Is our guest welcome here?”
Alana placed her hand on top of his. “It’s alright, Lothic. Please join us in the Council Hall.”
Lothic continued to observe Balyssa, but he removed his hand from the knife. He fell in step behind Alana and walked with the group as they proceeded through the crowd of assembled townspeople to the Council Hall. Arriving just outside, Alana stopped and turned around.
“I need to address the Clan,” she said. “Please head in and wait for me. I won’t be long.”
The rest of the group entered the Council Hall and sat down around the meeting table. Balyssa extinguished the torch she had been carrying, her ethereal glow returning in the dim, candlelit room.
“What are you that you glow like the twin moons?” asked Lothic.
“She is neither woman nor spirit,” said Thezdan. “She claims to be a servant of the Dancer.”
“In this age? Visiting us now, in the middle of the night?”
“I will explain, Guardian, soon enough,” said Balyssa.
The room fell silent. They could hear the muffled sounds of Alana speaking to the Clan outside. Then, a few moments after her speech ended, the door opened.
“I regret the worry that we have caused the others,” Alana said, closing the door behind her. She walked over to the table and sat down, her eyes trained on Balyssa. “We have done as you’ve asked; now, it is your turn. Tell me, why did you come to us at this late hour and demand an audience?”
“Thank you, Alana of the Guardian Clan,” said Balyssa. “The hour is indeed late, much later than you even know. The members of your Clan are right to worry.”
“Why is that?” said Alana. “Have I misjudged you?”
Balyssa shook her head. “No, I am a friend. But even my most beautiful and beloved Dancer fears what is coming. The fatal harvest of seeds planted many years ago. I—”
“We have no use for cryptic speech,” Thezdan scoffed. “Be direct.”
Balyssa turned toward Thezdan, letting an uncomfortable silence linger. “Very well, Eodan. I will speak plainly. I believe that the Party is a mirage, a manipulation designed to turn men against each other and to weaken the influence of the Goddess and the Shaper on Aevilen.”
“What do you mean ‘weaken the influence of the gods?’” Alana asked. “Yes, the Party destroyed all the temples and punish any who dare mention the gods. So what? What can the gods do for us now? They do not care about Aevilen. The only time we encounter them anymore is in our stories.”
“Oh?” Balyssa replied disapprovingly. “Has my beloved Dancer ceased to feed the cycles of life with his Spirit Winds? Were you not given this home amid the trees by the Goddess herself? The gods still influence our world. They have many agents that they have empowered and through which they act. I am one, and you all are, too.”
“I do not think that our faith alone makes us agents of the Goddess,” said Alana, “though we are grateful for the protection of the forest.”
Balyssa closed her eyes. The candles flickered as a strange breeze circulated around the room. “I can still sense the Goddess’s blessing in you.”
“We have no powers, I can assure you,” Alana said. “I wish we did … some things might have turned out rather differently.”
Thezdan leaned over the table, staring off into nothing, lost in thought.
“Eodan, is something bothering you?” Alana asked.
Thezdan looked up at his mother. “She refers to the Rage.”
Alana frowned. “That’s young boy nonsense.”
“No!” said Thezdan. “I have felt it! I have been training, and perhaps soon—”
“Enough,” Alana interrupted sharply. “Balyssa, so what is happening then? Why do you believe that the Party has religious aims? Have they really fooled us all?”
Balyssa nodded. “You must understand, the Aevilen valley is special. The Shaper has shared Aevilen with the Goddess since the First Age, when they lay here together. It has been shaped by both of them: His mountains make it nearly impregnable; and Her forests and fields make it rich in materials and life. Aevilen is a great prize.”
Alana glanced over at Lothic then back at Balyssa. “A great prize? Now I ask you to speak plainly. For whom is Aevilen a great prize?”
Balyssa’s expression took on a sudden, disconcerting seriousness. “Aevilen is valued by all of the gods, but most of all by the one that even among gods is feared … he who despises all that the Shaper, Goddess, Tempest, and my beautiful Dancer have brought into being. The gods of creation never call him by name, but I have heard men ca
ll him many things. The Unmaker. Oblivion. The Void Terror. In Aevilen, I believe you call him the Still Lord.”
“The Still Lord?” said Alana, recoiling. “As a girl, I learned about how Still Lord cultists led the Eastern Uprising. But that was well over a century ago! Weren’t they destroyed?”
“The uprising was put down, yes, but the cult was not destroyed,” said Balyssa. “As they neared defeat, its senior members—they called themselves the Prelate—disappeared. I suspect they used their god-given powers to extend their lives, biding their time. They knew that they could never again reveal themselves as servants of the Still Lord, but they have continued their work. You must understand, Aevilen is something that the Still Lord greatly covets.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Lothic grumbled. “Aevilen is a small territory compared to the lower continent.”
“It is small,” said Balyssa, nodding. “But its protection and resources make it the ideal place to build an army. Given your isolation, you probably know little of the history of the lower continent, but the Prelate did not begin in Aevilen; they arrived here after fleeing up the Giant Steps to the east.
They had been defeated in a terrible battle on the lower continent at the hands of the great Warrior-Queen Maruana. She killed their Champion, but at a cost in life that would change her kingdom forever. The surviving Prelate fled north to the mountains. They had been close to victory, but now they would have to resummon their Champion and rebuild their army. By chance, the Giant Steps were passable that year, and they arrived in Aevilen. It was a revelation. They knew immediately that it would be the perfect staging ground for a new army. Here it could grow, hidden and safe from the risks of preemptive attack. And when they were ready, they could dam the rivers, open the Giant Steps, and march down to the lower continent to conquer the world.”
“Hold on,” said Sinox. “So where do you imagine this ‘Prelate’ is now? And where is this great army they’re building?”
“I believe that the Prelate controls the People’s Party, and that they are working to summon one of the Still Lord’s Champions here. If they succeed, it will threaten all life in Aevilen and eventually all life throughout the world.”