His words proved accurate. The numbers of the dead in their path were now sparse, and Percy found it easier to pull their threads and cast them into their own bodies. The sound of the marching drums too had receded.
They could at last slow down. Jack and the great blood bay charger were foaming at the mouth from the gallop. And thus the knights allowed them to walk at an even pace through the trampled empty fields before them. Here the land was a mixture of black frozen dirt and patches of snow.
Breathing hard in exhaustion, they looked at the line of the horizon ahead of them. The greens and the browns were much closer now. In the hazy distance, the snow was slowly leached from the land, fading into intermediate terrain.
The Duke of Plaimes frowned, narrowing his eyes, and stared for a long time before speaking. “This cannot be,” he said. “This land, all of it—it is not Morphaea! There, those distinctive hills curving to the left, and then the forestland to the right—those are landmarks I’ve seen in Balmue!”
And as they gazed, in a mixture of confusion and doubt, Duke Andre Eldon wiped his dusty forehead with his gauntlet. “This world of ours—I no longer know what is happening. Neither this war nor the world makes any sense. It’s true, wars make little sense in general—except for a handful of fools—but they at least require a theater of military action that is fixed geographically. Here, we have a phenomenon without explanation that is negating everything.”
“You think, Your Grace, this is what happened to Duorma? Since your soldiers say it was—displaced?”
“I assume so. This is all rather unspeakable. Because it means we are now at the border with the Domain and most of Morphaea is gone from the face of the earth. How? Where? My family, my son was in that city!”
Beltain glanced at Percy lying against his breastplate, her eyelids fluttering closed, and her face had a greenish unhealthy tint. “Girl,” he said gently. “Are you with us?
Percy mumbled something.
“She appears ill,” the Duke noted, taking his gaze off the horizon for a moment.
And in the next moment both the men glanced to the remote left and saw dark specks of movement in the distance.
“Not more of the dead, I pray?” Beltain’s eyes hardened with renewed energy, as he prepared again for combat.
But the Duke shrugged, then narrowed his eyes again, resigned to anything.
Meanwhile Percy again muttered, this time recognizable words. “No. . . . Not these, not the dead.”
“A small relief, then,” said Beltain.
Some time later, as they rode gently forward, they were met by a small, severely battered brigade of living soldiers of various ranks. They came both on foot and riding dejected horses, and they moved beyond any semblance of orderly formation, wearing the tan and teal colors of Morphaea.
Among them, flew the solitary banner of the King.
The Duke of Plaimes turned to Beltain and said in a low voice: “We shall speak nothing of the girl—nothing about what she can do. That way you will be able to proceed discreetly on your way.”
“But, wouldn’t there be questions?” Beltain wondered. “How will we explain having survived the onslaught of the entire Trovadii army?”
“Hah!” said the Duke with a bitter smile. “Leave that to me. The simplest explanations are always best. I will inform His Majesty that because we are so few in number, we’ve had extraordinary luck and were mostly unseen and unengaged by the enemy as we rode through their most outlying, remote, and sparse flanks. Apparently, the Trovadii—whose one entrenched purpose has always been to obey without question the Sovereign’s grand orders of conquest—have better things to do than occupy themselves with two mounted knights and a young peasant girl. And now that they are dead, they are possibly even more single-minded in their purpose than usual. Who knew that death could bring such sharp focus?”
And then the Duke was moving away, riding through the ranks toward the pennant of Morphaea held aloft by the bearer next to the King himself.
King Orphe Geroard of Morphaea was a man in his late middle years. His deeply tanned gaunt face with its neatly trimmed silver beard and grizzled temples was all that could be seen, for he wore a chain mail coif and helmet, and was clad in a full suit of armor plate, finely embossed with intricate designs upon metal. Astride his large chestnut warhorse, he was an imposing sight, despite the dirtied condition of his armor and the minor gashes upon his face. And yet he had fared better than many others in the battle, for most of his knights showed wounds, many of them serious, and some were barely keeping themselves upright in their saddles.
The Duke saluted his liege and then they conversed for several long minutes while Beltain, with Percy, kept wisely several paces away. At some point the King turned to stare in their direction, but was apparently convinced by the Duke of Plaimes that they were of insufficient consequence.
Eventually the Duke turned and rode back to them. Beltain regarded his approach with a grave expression.
But the Duke, his back turned to the others, winked discreetly, then said in a calm voice that was carried back to the others: “And so we part ways, my friend. I have found His Majesty alive and well—reasonably so—and we must now proceed to rally the best we can, to bring together our remaining forces. At the same time, we attempt to make sense of this defeat and the circumstances of Duorma.”
“What does His Majesty intend to do?”
The Duke took a deep breath, exhaled a weary sigh. “We will try to make our way west, then north, to Styx. It might be our best course of action since the Silver Court is now cut off from us and we from it. Instead of a solid deep front with the Imperial forces at our back, and a protracted successful line of defense and maneuverability—as we had fully intended, before the earth itself decided to relocate underneath us—we are isolated without a base of operations. Meanwhile, the young King of Styx will appreciate our allied support, now that he is being attacked by Solemnis from the south. And thus, we go to Styx. I only hope we’ll make it. By Heaven, I hope Styx still stands in its proper place when we arrive!” He paused. “As for you—Godspeed, and proceed, and may you do what must be done, on Her Imperial Highness’s orders. I have faith in you, my Lord Beltain, and in your brave little Percy—who looks like she is about to fall off your saddle, by the way.”
Beltain gently shifted half-conscious Percy in his hold, and she raised a very pale grey-green-tinted face to barely glance at him, before closing her eyes once again.
“Go, now!” The Duke nodded to him with a grim smile. “Till we meet again!”
“Farewell, Your Grace!” And the black knight inclined his head in a bow, then turned Jack about, and rode past the soldiers of Morphaea and their King.
The way, as always, lay south.
Chapter 20
The day was closing upon evening, and the country they entered beyond the last of the snow-swept fields was a strange, intermediate, temperate zone. The earth here was mostly naked soil, with rock formations and sparse forests and a few rolling hills that began as sienna brown earthen clay and slowly revealed shrubs and some hardy greenery.
According to the Duke of Plaimes, this was Balmue. Thus, they were no longer within their native Realm but had entered the territory of the Domain.
Betlain had no doubt. Even though he had never set foot beyond the Morphaea border, the predominant reddish brown color of the land around them—sienna brown, the native color of Balmue, renowned for its unusual deposits of clay soil—spoke loudly for itself. Balmue wore this shade upon the majority of its land, in an intricate rich palette.
It was still cold, but no longer the same biting, overwhelming chill of snowy winter that had come with them on the majority of the trip from Lethe and then northern Morphaea. Even the sky was a warmer hue of blue, and hinted of autumn or spring.
Percy slept for the past hour on Beltain’s chest. There had been no good place to stop for rest, only an exposed plain, and thus no way to assure safety for them.
But at last, the plain ended and a mixed terrain brought the hills and the forestland closer.
Beltain rode with a seemingly impassive set to his features, but concealing a deep worry on behalf of the girl. She looked far more ill than she had ever been before under similar circumstances. True, she had not lost consciousness entirely as she did after taking on hundreds of the dead at the siege of Letheburg. However, her condition was more perilous now, even though she was partially awake, because her lethargy was overwhelming while her skin was very cold to the touch, and a sheen of cold sweat beaded on her brow.
“Percy . . .” he whispered. “How do you feel?”
“I am . . . alive,” she replied. For some reason he noticed the very light trembling smile on her lips. Then her eyes opened wide, clear and aware, yet unearthly, and full of that strange intermediate color of grey-blue-swamp-green.
And with those eyes she gazed at him.
Beltain felt a painful constriction in his chest, followed by a stab of intensity. He had to look away, unable to meet her gaze for longer than a moment, saying instead, “We will stop to rest shortly. Just a little more until I find a good place, safe and out of view, and then—then you will rest.”
She continued to watch him thus, occasionally closing her eyes and falling again into a peculiar unhealthy sleep that was close to a swoon. And he meanwhile stared like a hawk at their surroundings, watching out for landmarks, for moving enemy figures, for anything that might be of use or of harm.
As the sun started to slant at his back and his right, painting the western sky with plum fire, Beltain finally rounded a hill then went up an incline and into a small valley that was mostly green, with spots of the ever-present sienna. Jack was now stepping over clumps of earth and rock and grass underfoot, and like a miracle the snow was almost entirely gone.
In the middle of the valley, among a small woodland clearing, stood a structure.
Beltain raised his gauntlet to stare, because the glare of the setting sun sent horizontal rays over the top of the hills to reflect off something golden and bright amid that structure. It was as if another small captured sun had been brought to ground and placed inside a terrestrial cage.
As they drew closer, with the knight carefully looking out for any signs of life or sudden enemy movement, Percy sighed, coming awake, then opened her eyes again.
She blinked at the golden reflected radiance. “What is it?”
“I am not sure yet,” he replied. “I don’t know if we should approach. There may be people there. And frankly, I am too weary myself to welcome another protracted fight.”
“There are no dead there,” she announced. “That’s good, at least.”
Beltain made his decision and decided to approach the structure.
As they moved in to narrow the distance, the sun sank over the hills, and the painful radiance no longer made it impossible to look directly at the thing down there.
It was a temple.
An ancient, overgrown one.
There were fluted columns of white marble, wrought in the classical Greek Ionic order of architecture, their capitals ornamented with spiral volutes up on top, surrounding an interior wall with a central gate.
The surrounding trees had sprawled around the temple perimeter, eclipsing a portion of the roof, and old thick vines climbed up, bare of leaves in the winter chill. Had this been summer, the greenery of the tree leaves would have hidden the structure completely, but now the bare branches revealed the gilded frieze and the cornices, which were reflecting the last rays of the sun moments ago and now had softened in the last light of sunset to a warm buttery haze. However the marble bore many cracks, and the golden sheets were peeling in places.
“This place is very old, and apparently neglected,” Beltain remarked, as they rode up close, and saw the external details of disrepair. “As such, it will serve us as shelter against the unknown night.”
The black knight dismounted, then led Jack up to the nearest colonnade, and took Percy in his arms, carrying her down from the saddle. He put her down softly to sit on the third stone stair, and she reeled slightly, then put her hands down to steady herself upright.
“Can you manage to sit for a few moments, girl?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
“Good. Let me deal with Jack, and then we’ll go inside.”
And he brought the warhorse up a few more stairs and into the colonnade overhang, out of the wind, and where the shadows would keep the great beast out of sight. He did not bother removing the bridle or harness, since they might have to ride on a moment’s notice. Instead, he took out a small feedbag from the back of the saddle, and hung it around Jack’s neck, after giving him some melted snow from the water sack. After the warhorse was settled, Beltain took with him a water flask and the small satchel of food that he’d had the good sense to request from the inn at Silver Court when they left that morning.
With it, he approached Percy, just as the sunset began to fade into twilight.
The girl could barely stand up on her own. Beltain drew his arms around her waist and shoulder, holding her around her thick old coat, and they entered the temple through the doors that were left unfastened years ago.
Inside was near darkness.
Beltain was alert for any sign of movement, but they were completely alone. A large hall awaited them, dust-filled and at the same time smelling faintly of mildew and forest, with similar rows of Ionic colonnades around its rectangle perimeter, and a lofty angled roof held up by horizontal beams and columns. The roof was broken in places, admitting an open vision of indigo sky and thus allowing in the elements—which accounted for the moisture and the hint of rot.
In the back of the temple before the sanctum stood a great statue of a goddess, gilded and crowned with a headdress of stalks of wheat, and seated upon a throne. Garlands of embossed moldings in the shape of jewels appeared to cascade from her braided curving crown of hair and her earlobes, and her wrists and arms were braced with wide ornate bands. She was not nude but wore a noble chiton that came down in marble folds to her sandaled feet.
And although this attire was more ceremonial and formal, Percy immediately recognized the Goddess of Tradition.
It was like coming home.
A strange peaceful sense of rightness immediately settled around Percy’s heart. The expanse of the hall was no longer an unknown void of dust, cracked marble, and menacing shadows but a familiar welcome sphere of comfort. Each column breathed solidity, familiarity, and the remote ceiling overhead was like a bower of wild roses woven together to create a shelter from the sky.
Percy stared at the great ancient goddess before her, with her smooth serene features and her wheat crown. “Who are you?” she whispered, through her debilitating weakness. “Why do I know you so well?”
Beltain, still assisting her to stand, with his one powerful arm around her, heard her speak and replied. “Strange serendipity, that we come upon her now, the same goddess of your dream. The Goddess of Tradition must be watching over you, out of her golden antiquity.”
“What are . . . gods?” Percy whispered. “There is God who watches over us and yet there are these others.”
Beltain shrugged, his lips curving in a smile that she could not see in the twilight. “Priests would tell you such things are old pagan blasphemies. It may well be so. And yet, in this gentle light, the ancient one looks down at us, and she is soft and harmless and fair. . . . If mortal men have an order to them, why not gods? Let there be One who presides over the others. Perhaps they take turns—just like men—and choose one of their own to be God supreme throughout the ages, until another one is chosen to lead a new Age. Or—maybe there is always the same One God, and simply an ever-changing pantheon of the lesser ones who march in varied prominence through time alongside us mortals, fading in and out of favor and worship, powered by our own desires and dreams.”
And while Percy continued to stare at the goddess in a dreamlike daze, Beltain gently pressed he
r shoulder and guided her deeper into the temple.
The black knight found a sheltered spot in the back of the sanctum itself, that alcove behind the statue where the ancient priests met in secret and performed their most sacred rituals. Here, in the shadowed niche mostly free of nature’s debris and dust, he spread out his cloak on cold marble and set down his pack. With gentle care he helped Percy sit then lie down, resting her head on a small bundle that was his folded blue Chidair surcoat. While she lay down thus, closing her eyes, he quickly removed his gauntlets and the most cumbersome portions of his plate armor so that he could flex his body and sleep. The chain mail hauberk remained for both protection and warmth. But he unbelted his sword in its steel and leather sheath and set it down at his side.
It was so quiet in the temple. . . . As the evening deepened, the wind increased outside. It whistled through the fine cracks in stone, giving chase to itself, with occasional gusts entering through the parted doors and from the missing portions of the damaged roof above. In the openings was dark velvet sky, with a cold sprinkling of stars.
“I dare not build a fire for us, girl, not here,” Beltain said after a few minutes. “But now you must drink and eat, to regain your strength and warmth. Food is fuel when there can be no fire. . . .”
Percy weakly opened her eyes and watched the black knight as he took out a loaf of bread and cheese from the satchel. Again she smiled faintly, and Beltain could have sworn she was bemused with him, with his very motions—the practiced way he broke apart the loaf with his large capable hands, and then used his knife to carve out a piece of hard cheese for her.
He took out the water flask, and drew near her, and put his hand gently underneath her head wrapped in its woolen shawl to lift her up enough so she could drink. Percy received the water from him and swallowed, with difficulty at first, so that rivulets flowed past her cracked lips and down her pale cold chin which he wiped with his warm fingers, making her tremble slightly. He was uncertain why she trembled, but somehow it made him very aware of the contact . . . and now his fingers trembled also.
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