by N. M. Howell
What the memories of tomes and men did not acknowledge was the pain. Laoren’s unimaginable pain. Throdan was the first to be slain. Laoren and Traega fought beside him for decades before he fell. They did not even have the chance to say goodbye. All that was left of their beloved companion was his charred bones and the ash of his flesh.
Laoren and Traega fought many long and hard years after that. Twenty more years of battle. And after a century of war their kindness, compassion, and goodwill were spent. Nothing was left except the rage and the drive for vengeance that helped them survive. They breathed fury. The ate despair. Somewhere in that terrible war their patience and compassion for man withered, and in the end the Almighty took even their care of man from them. Finally, all they had left was each other. Then the final night of battle dawned.
Traega had pleaded with Laoren to leave the battlefield a month previous, terrified of losing her last remaining friend. But it was Traega who would fall. The Almighty struck her a horrific blow, but she did not die instantly, as history has told. She survived some hours after the close of war, in a charred bush at the base of old trees. Half naked and barely breathing. Discarded and afraid. Laoren found her there and took up the dying, broken Warrior in her arms.
“Traega, my friend, my companion, do not leave me now,” she pleaded.
“I have failed you, dear woman,” Traega gasped. “You gave me all I needed to succeed, but I could not defeat him. I leave now, a disappointment.”
“You are no disappointment. You are all I have ever known. You were mother, father, sister, friend. And Throdan, too, has fallen. Some thousands of years I have walked in Heaven or on earth and in all that time I only ever loved two people. Two people who befriended me in a place that was strange and new to me, and who stood for me when no other breathing thing in the cosmos came to my aid. Two people who bore me from Heaven in their arms and cared for me here on earth.”
“Two who braved the fires for you and would have delved to the very pit of this earth to bring you joy. Protecting you was the work and joy of a lifetime, Laoren. We have loved you.”
Traega gasped and her hand dropped. Laoren pulled her closer. Above them the Almighty cast two more stones across the sky and the two rebels, the two battered and defeated friends, watched as their heavens were ripped asunder and irreparably shattered in the sky: a brilliant gold and diamond explosion, throughout which echoed the screams of the millions of souls the Almighty had so recklessly destroyed. But man and beast could not hear those screams. Only Laoren and Traega heard them. The two never wept worse than they did that day, utterly devastated.
“I have not even the strength to raise my hand to your face,” said Traega. “How wrong, that my last sight should be the death of those who trusted their very essence to me.”
“No, my friend,” said Laoren, turning her friend in her arms. “Turn your eyes to me and know this. I did not embark upon this because he did not want me. I did it because he was a false idol and as I sat on my knees before him, with the whole truth of my life crashing down upon me, I knew the world had to be saved from his hypocrisy. And now let your eyes rest their last upon my face. Look upon the one who loved you and whose life you saved so many times over a friendship that lasted seventeen thousand years. I thank you for it all.”
Laoren held her until the last breath had fled her body. She took Traega’s white cape and tied it at her neck. She buried her next to Throdan’s remains. Then Laoren vanished from life and from legend, to what place or purpose none can tell.
Chapter 11
“Nevena!”
Lord Jacob is looking at me as if I were a miracle or phantom. It has been years since I’ve seen him or his wife and daughter. It is only now that I realize the last time I saw him was lying unconscious on the floor after the royal sorceresses had flung him through the wall. He now looks well enough, though much thinner and his hair is flooded with gray. Lady Katrina rides beside him, with an aura more austere than ever before, but still beautiful and graceful as a Queen. And then there’s Thea, so gorgeous she seems to be growing more beautiful right in front of me. While the past three years seem to have been hard on everyone, they have only served to increase Thea. She is becoming a formidable young lady. I can tell by looking at her that she is changing inside as well.
“Lord Jacob,” I begin, still somewhat frazzled at finding my homeland desolate and seeing the House of Eaynfall after all these years. “I do not know that I ever expected to see you again.”
“I know very well I hoped to see you,” he says. “Though I am a lord no longer. It would serve us well to sit and talk.”
“I agree,” says Lady Katrina. “You’ve become quite the warrior, Neven. I would be remiss if I did not tell you first how very proud we are of you.”
“You are ever kind, my lady. Radluff,” I call, turning. He is far behind me with the army, but I know his fox hears can hear me. “Give the order to make camp. I go now to speak with the House of Eaynfall.”
I see him nod in acknowledgement across the field and I follow the lord and ladies aside. Some of the knights have already begun setting up the tent for the lord and his family. We dismount and tie the horses. Once the tent is up, Lord Jacob orders them to rest a moment. The four of us step inside. No sooner have we crossed the threshold than Lady Thea turns to me and embraces me so tightly I know she must have feared she would never see me again. I am still angry and hurt and confused, but I do manage to return some pressure. The girl is beaming.
“You’re still fair-skinned and beautiful,” she says, her voice even more perfect than the last time I heard it. “How I’ve missed your white hair.”
“If there is beauty among us, surely you have the lion’s share,” I say. “Little do I care for my own appearance these days.”
Lady Katrina walks over to take my hand and the look she gives me is one of gratefulness and pride. It might have warmed my heart some time in the past, but now it makes me squirm. How dare she put such pressure on me? Lord Jacob takes my hand after his wife and I do not even try to meet his eyes. We all take seats and water is brought in. I can see the three of them watching me. Looking at me with awe. A simple spell would fix that, but I restrain myself.
“As I was saying before, I am no longer a lord,” he says. “Delara’s decision to join the darkness has forever marred the name of this family. I suppose I should detest her, but what father can abandon his child when she needs him most? There also seems to be a rumor going round the kingdoms that one of our ancient ancestors was some ghastly man named Nethlamas. What truth there is in that I cannot know, but the Land of Dao will not have us. I suppose I cannot blame them. These are dark times indeed and the people must have who they trust. So long has my family held lordship over that land that it might do us well to depart in search of new fortune, a new name.”
“We have seen some battle in these three years,” says Lady Katrina. “We send our knights to some of the smaller skirmishes here and there. And we follow them to every destination. There was a time when I would have deemed a life in motion terribly unbecoming of a lady and her house, but. . . I suppose the times have changed us all.”
“Yes,” I say. “They have. It is not my wish to be rude, especially after so long a separation, but I am here at the request of General Yunger. It is an issue of some urgency. I have to ask: why have you come to this place?”
“Chance,” says Thea, slowly and simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We were heading south, on our way to find you at Golrend in Ethore. As fortune would have it, we found you here.”
“That was fortunate,” I say, weary of this polite conversation. “I must leave you now, for there is much to attend to before planning our next move.”
Just like that, without ceremony or even basic decorum, I rise to leave.
“Before you leave, there is something you must know,” says Lady Katrina. “Delara is my daughter and regardless of the number or the nature of her evils, I love her still. But those s
ins, however vast, however ruthless, do not come at your hands. We have never blamed you and we never will, Winter Queen.”
I turn to face her and she is walking toward me. She takes my hand again.
“I am ashamed to have asked you to work and serve at my table. Years you spent silently doing as you were told, subservient, kind. All along we should have known. It was we who should have served you.”
She releases my hand and bows. As does Jacob. As does Thea. For a moment I am rooted to the spot, dumbfounded. The House of Eaynfall is bowing to me. It is too much. I hurry from the tent. As I walk outside and make my way across the camp, I see the Aiglon standing aside from the army, some six hundred in all. Their sharp senses pick me up instantly. Dameron, one of the strongest and bravest despite his young age, approaches. He bows so low his head nearly touch the ground.
“My Queen,” he begins. “There is naught here to find. We caught the enemy in forest and destroyed them. We have followed you here to your homeland, and believe me we are as broken hearted as you are to find the Winterlands so abandoned. But the time has come for us to leave.”
“Leave?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yes, my Queen. You have done great and terrible things since we left the city of Golrend. Such destruction have you caused that I still cannot believe we escaped. And even now Commander Floron lies fighting for his life, burned beyond recognition by your own hand. Rest assured, we will not rise against you, but we can follow you no more.”
And with those words six hundred Aiglon spread their wings and bow to the ground before me. Together it is a sight I will never forget, stunning and shaming all at once. They stay in supplication for a moment and then, on one accord, hundreds of screeches signal their departure and then the air is thick with wings as they soar off to a destiny all their own.
Night does come eventually, but it brings no respite. I left Golrend with twelve thousand armed soldiers. We lost nearly a thousand in Night’s Deep. Six hundred Aiglon rejected me and renounced their loyalty to my command. And since their departure five hours ago, another two and a half thousand have turned and headed back to Ethore. They have lost faith in me, in my lead. The giants have remained, as have the Fox Lords and most of the army, but few of them will look at me and fewer still can manage not to flinch when I am near. Those who have stayed dare not even whisper what they truly feel, but they do not know that I have the power to read their thoughts. And as I pass through the camp, listening to the thoughts and desires of these men, women, and beasts, I learn what they truly want. They want to go home, to find a worthy commander and follow him. They think I’ve lost my honor and my mind. They fear me. Before I’m halfway to my tent, I have already realized: this is no longer my army. I am no longer their Queen.
When I do finally reach my tent, Thea is there. She stands when I enter and looks behind me to make sure the curtain has fallen closed. I cannot tell what it is she is feeling, but I do see that she is not at ease. With soft, direct steps she comes to me.
“I am sorry for this ambush and for what you are about to experience,” she says. “But you would not believe me otherwise.”
She places a hand on either side of my face and all existence goes black. I do not see, feel, hear, smell, taste, or even know for some moments. And then, all at once, it is upon me. A whole new world.
I am not in the world as I knew it, though the sensation of this place is somewhat similar. I somehow know that I am above my world, between that earth on which I lived and… somewhere else. Everything around is a majestic gold and I want to weep because the sight of it is so profoundly beautiful. I am suspended and not in air, but in something light and without true substance. All around me are trembling pools of a darker gold than the rest of the realm. I look at one to study it and I see there are things moving inside. Images. Visions. There are visions in every pool. I stare into the one closest to me.
I see an eagle, but of such great size I fear it must be a monster. But it can’t be, for nothing so magnificent and beautiful could be evil. It is an Aiglon, one of the ancient race before the blood was mixed with man. The bird flies down and lands its great self before a woman. A white haired woman. Then the pool begins to repeat the vision. I turn to another.
I see a king on his throne, but he has a dark look about him. As if the very thought of joy had fled him. His crown is in his lap and he stares at it. He lets it fall to the floor. He screams. The pool begins to repeat and I turn to another.
This one shows only a trail of footsteps with earth black and dead all around them.
The next shows a strange land with a vast red forest. I am whisked across the land to a desert, upon with lies the rotted carcasses of what must be a thousand ships, all destroyed and riddled as if resigned to death after some great cataclysmic battle. I am taken again and shown a land where the soil cannot be see; everywhere the eye looks is a land of rock and stone, and here and there are eyes peeping up from the rock.
The following pool shows bodies, thousands, in a cavern of some sort. Backwards the vision flies to the end of a tunnel. Then it is above ground and the tunnel is gone.
Another pool shows me a sight I cannot believe. Dragons. They are soaring in packs, in every imaginable color and combination of colors. Higher and higher they soar and spiral and twist until they pass through the cloud and enter a realm I would not believe if I did not see it now. It is the Lost Paradise, an entire city floating in the sky. The city is made only of vines, some bound into great balls or nests for the dragons to live in. It is incredible.
I am still reeling from that vision when I look into the final pool. It is a tablet. Some instinct tells me it is older than I can fathom. Some feeling, some urge compels me to it. But all I can see from the place where I am is a single word, written in a tongue I know not.
Sauvetalywn’ge
Then I am shown the bodies again, and the tunnel and its disappearance. Then I am in the senseless dark again. When I surface I am back in my tent, with Thea staring up into my eyes.
“You do not need to tell me all that you saw, only the vision that repeated itself. That is where we begin.”
“Begin?” I ask, reaching behind to make sure I find the chair, for my legs cannot hold me up just now. “What was that you showed me? Is it magic? Those visions and people and places, what have they to do with me?”
“I have shown you past, present, and future. Just now you have left time and cheated it. Those visions are the things we’ll need.”
“Need for what?”
“For the great war that is sure to come. Neven,” she says, kneeling in front of me, “I know this must be difficult for you. I do not even understand it all myself, but at this very moment the enemy plans the destruction of all we know. This gift or curse, whatever it may be, will show us the things we must do.”
“But how can you know? Where did this ability come from?”
“I simply woke up one morning and was different. I know that I have been drawn to you. Whenever I touch my own face I am shown yours. I need you. All I know is that if I concentrate on a goal and touch another person, they will be shown the necessary steps. It is how I helped my father to find you. Now, the time for questions is done. You must tell me which of the visions repeated.”
It takes me a moment to comprehend what Thea has said, and I’m still unclear precisely what has happened, but I tell her about the bodies in the cavern and the tunnel.
“Very well,” she says. “Let’s begin.”
She takes my hand, stands, and pulls me up with her.
“We need to get outside of this camp and away from the army,” she says. “I trust you can do that?”
“Take my hand,” I say.
She reaches out to me and I hold her hands. I command the lighting. It falls upon us and we are transported. We reappear instantly some two miles away, the ground superheated to glass beneath us. It is as far as I can move us.
“You’re more powerful than I imagined,” Thea says, glancin
g around. “But then what challenge is there for the Winter Queen?”
“I am no Queen.”
“Well, you are to some. But for now you must find them. The people in your vision.”
“I don’t know. . .”
“But you do. There is a reason that you brought us this direction.”
I feel as if she’s talking in circles, but I close my eyes and open my mind. As far as our eyes can see there is nothing around us. Nothing at all, not even plants. Not even rocks. Just dirt and ash in all directions. I try listening for thoughts, but I hear only Thea’s. I am surprised to learn that she has total faith in me. She’s overjoyed to be reunited and to be in the presence of a Queen. She is also thinking of Delara. She misses her. For one so beautiful and gifted, it is hard to remember she is just a girl. She has only thirteen winters. Suddenly I hear a voice, ever so soft, diaphanous like a fading specter.
“Come home.”
I jump, startled beyond words. Thea asks me what I’ve found, but I open my mind again, searching for that voice. I find nothing. It’s as if something is blocking me or making me weaker. I stop and instead cast a spell on my eyes. Now I peer through the night and I can see ahead for some miles and still there is nothing there. I grab Thea and we travel by lightning across the plain, my eyes searching all the time. Nothing. I put us down in frustration.
“There is nothing here,” I say in irritation. “So much for instinct.”
“Perhaps there,” she says, pointing at my feet.
“What?”
“There. Beneath us.”
I sigh in anger, but we’ve come too far now. I kneel and seep magic into the soil. A long meandering light runs ahead of me, but it is shining from under the soil, as if I’m seeing through the dirt and into the earth. Then a weakness comes over me and I let go. The line disappears and I fall forward on my hands. Thea comes to my side.
“What is it?”
“Something hangs over this land,” I say, gasping. “Some curse or hex. Whenever I use my magic it drains me.”