Lydria muscled her way past S’rolek heading toward the water, and before anyone could move toward her, S’rolek held up his hand. “No one is to interfere.” He turned meaningfully to Hokra and Haustis and then to Dravud, “I mean no one.”
Standing on the bank just above the sand that led to the river, S’rolek called out to Lydria. “What is your plan now? Once you leave the bank you must cross – there is no coming back.”
“That would have been nice to know,” Hokra sneered.
“No one asked.” S’rolek shrugged his shoulders. “What is your plan, miss?”
Lydria remembered what Hokra had done when they had first met and the impression it had made upon herself and his kin. Her collar glowed brightly, and she raised herself slowly in the air, moving straight up until she floated above even Dravud. The crowd on the shore drew their collective breath, each wondering what new thing had just entered their world.
Without taking her eyes from S’rolek, she pictured the bridge in her mind, the pilings and planks, the support beams, and the railings. Moments ago, all these things had existed in the water. The wave that took Privna took all scraps of the bridge as well. Lydria smiled at the crowd’s reaction when moments later a new bridge rose from nothing, its glowing blue pilings and planks spanning the river starting from the far side and ending in front of S’rolek. When it was completed, Lydria lowered herself to stand upon it and even jumped on it so those watching could hear the sound of thick wooden planks.
“We will take the bridge.” Lydria nodded toward the others whose grins were as wide as their faces as they trotted across the magical structure. Dravud turned to S’rolek and shook his hand. “We will be on our way then S’rolek. Thank you for your hospitality.” Turning to face Lydria, Dravud was smirking. It was an entirely new expression for the guide and Lydria felt very warmly toward him for it.
“You will not move into Vul without me, Dravud. You know that is not the way the guides work. You must wait for me.”
“By all means then S’rolek, do come. We are in rather a hurry.” Dravud moved Lydria ahead of him as he followed her across the bridge. When they were safely on the other side, they watched as S’rolek reached out a foot tentatively testing the glowing blue bridge. The planks, though they sounded solid, looked to be made of nothing more than light. Walking across the bridge had the effect of walking on glass, and the Chag did not seem to appreciate whatever it was that had caused such a thing to happen.
Slowly, the guide made his way across the bridge, even jumping himself once, and smiling at the reassuring sturdy sound that greeted him.
“S’rolek, do you have any wine with which to celebrate this achievement?” Lydria called out to him.
“Of course,” he gloated so that those on both sides of the bridge could hear.
“Then I hope it’s waiting when you return.” With that Lydria released her magic and S’rolek fell into the middle of the river. Lydria began her own countdown that the people on the opposite shore took up with an enthusiasm that made even Hokra smile. As she reached one, nothing happened and S’rolek raised his head and began a profane sentence he never finished. The wall of water that had taken Privna was enormous. The wall that took S’rolek was awe-inspiring. It reached more than twice as high as had the first, and seemed to linger at the tipping point, finally falling with such force that everyone on both sides of the river was drenched. The crowd erupted again and waved toward Lydria and by the time the river resumed its unnaturally still but flowing course, they were dry, and Dravud, was turning them to regain their path.
“Was that necessary, do you think?” Dravud said.
“Yes. I think it was. What do you think Hokra?” Lydria asked.
The Chag was beaming, his eyes wide and still wet from tears of laughter. “I think it was perfect.” Hokra took the arms of both Lydria and Haustis and the four walked away from the river into the town on the other side.
21-Paradise in the Plains
The other side of the river was as unlike anything else they had seen in the Nethyn’ Plains. Soon after making their way across the bridge, there was something resembling sunlight. “A token of Griffis’ beneficence upon his chosen – those who have made it to this point,” Dravud said. Taking everyone by surprise, the guide, who now fairly radiated warmth and was clad in green armor from head to ankle, continued unasked. “The reality is that the Nethyn Plains was never designed to be dark and ugly. It was once as beautiful as the Melting Grae. This place that was made for Griffis was not intended to harm him, but to keep him away from others, and hopefully they hoped, through its beauty, allow him to reclaim some part of himself that would let him coexist peacefully with others. They underestimated the darkness inside him.”
If Lydria didn’t know everyone here was dead she would think they were walking in Bayside. It was bright, there were colorful plants and trees with branches and flowers, and the water ran as it was meant to run, with careless abandon and delightful trills and echoes as it crested the rocks beneath its surface and crashed into itself over and again.
The people too, seemed cheerful and bright, offering them good mornings and well wishes, although some did let their eyes linger on the weapons still visible upon Haustis and Hokra.
“This is the light side of Vul,” Dravud explained. “Even someone like Griffis knows there has to be some semblance of balance, and so those who linger in the grey from the side of light, often find their way here. They are largely considered too stringent in their approach to a thing to live peacefully in the Melting Grae with the others. Here, they find their own kind, and as you can see, they do well enough for themselves. This is as close as you will find to Eigrae in the Nethyn Plains – possibly within all of the Melting Grae.”
“Should there not be a counterpart to Griffis here?” Hokra asked. “It stands to reason if there will be balance.”
“That is true, but Griffis making this area is largely a nod to balance, not any real attempt at balance. He would become personally involved in hindering anyone he thought might oppose him. Also, balance often takes time. Because no one has risen to challenge Griffis and unmake what he has made, does not mean no one will. Perhaps one day, a champion shall arise, but the price of failure is high.”
“They would go back to the beach, you mean?” Haustis asked.
“No. They would earn their true death. In all of the Nethyn’ Plains there are many who would welcome true death. But look around you. Would you give this up on a chance? That is how we know the champion of light has not arrived. If someone stood on the edge of light and grey as closely as Griffis stands on the edge of darkness and grey, they would have no choice but to engage with Griffis. They would see it as their duty to protect those who could not protect themselves. Alas, that person has not yet come.”
“So where do we go from here? Surely, we cannot just walk to his front door?” Hokra sounded as if he hoped that were not the case and was stunned by the guide’s answer.
“Let us stop first and consider your path – because I think you need to understand young prince, that is exactly what we are going to do. There is no other way.”
Dravud pointed Lydria toward a small gate that led to a park where green grass and well-tended flower beds battled for their attention with trees of drooping flowers, and the smell of clover, and spring grass. Following a small white-stone trail, Lydria saw people on the grass, lying on blankets with baskets of food and cups to drink from. Occasionally, she would see a small child, and a look to Dravud confirmed for her that this place was like the Melting Grae in that people could choose a form that suited them for a time.
They walked past the people and continued on until they found a secluded spot overlooking the town. The river they had crossed was hazy in the distance, the lights from the town there all but invisible in the brilliance of this part of Vul. They sat on the grass and one by one lay down. The grass was soft and cool, and while Lydria felt the warmth on her face, she knew it was not real a
nd she spoke silently to Hokra who pushed his hand deep into the ground before shaking his head.
“What is this, Dravud? Why have you brought us here? Why do you seduce us with this mockery of life? This cannot be true – things live, and yet the ground they grow from is dead.” Lydria stood and the others rose in unison with her, glaring at the guide but following Lydria’s lead closely. Haustis reached out to touch a man walking past and looked at the guide curiously as her hand drifted through his form as he kept walking, hardly registering he had been touched.
The three circled around Dravud, intent that they had been deceived when he held his hands out as if pleading for mercy.
“It is a test, like all the others. For many who make it this far, they see what they wish and believe what they choose, and so they take up their place here, never bothering to move forward.” The guide said it all in a rush, eager to keep the peace with the travelers he had been with for so long. He looked for a bench and sat down, urging the others to do the same. Lydria sat beside him while the others sat on the ground by his feet, like children waiting to be taught some great new thing.
“There have been no challengers to Griffis because since the Plains were formed, they have stopped here. The call of this place for those who wish to hear it is particularly enticing. Those who live in the light want nothing more for everyone to believe as they do and feel as they do, and so here, they believe everyone does. What they see is much more than what you see. For them, this place is paradise absolutely. The Wailing of the Vul of which S’rolek spoke was nonsense and meant for his own people. Did you see anyone on this side of the bridge looking at the catastrophes of the river? They don’t even notice the river is there. The light in this place effectively creates a border at the river and I would bet no one here is even aware S’rolek and his town exists.”
“So, this was a test and we have passed?” Lydria was unsure now of Dravud’s allegiances and whether he would speak true.
“It is. I have no desire nor anything to gain from deceiving you. Now that you have learned the truth, we may make our way from this place and to the gates of Griffis.”
“We’re not actually taking the front door though, are we?” Hokra still seemed unsure of such a bold plan.
“Well, yes, actually. That was true. There is only one way to the center of the Nethyn Plains, and Griffis’ seat of power is at the exact center of this place. We will boldly walk up to his gate and announce ourselves on his doorstep.”
“Before we go,” Haustis asked as the four rose to their feet once more. “How has Wynter passed through these places by himself, or does he too have a guide?”
Dravud considered the question and realizing he had to speak truthfully if he wanted to keep their faith in him, he answered plainly. “The sword Wynter carries provides a direct connection to Griffis. Those who have played at Wynter’s feelings to lure him away from this place, have been aware it has always been a delaying tactic only, in much the same way as you helped delay him by sending the Shades to seek the sword he carries. Had you not done that he likely would have been in Griffis’ hands long ago. Griffis’ power upon him grows greater as he moves toward the center, and I believe he has not yet entered Griffis’ home. But he is very close. It would be unwise for you to linger.”
With no more words to be said, they began back down the white stone path to the town, finding the main avenue and moving along it solemnly compared to the bright cheerful faces who passed them by and gave them greetings. Lydria and Haustis tried to maintain a semblance of pleasantness but gave up after the first few exchanges. Knowing this place was a fraud made it so much worse than the other openly unpleasant places they had been.
The town was larger than they expected and block after block passed them by and Lydria was sorely tempted to stop in many of the places she saw there; places that called to her and beckoned her inside, to be delighted by what she saw, and the smells infiltrated her senses like no vision could, speaking to her of cool breezes on warm summer nights, and sweet things on feast days, and so much more that she was barely familiar with. But she knew it was all a lie, a picture that she could become a part of, but a picture nonetheless, no more real for how it felt than a painting.
Lydria shook her head hoping to remove the temptations she thought she could see and before the light shifted, she was stopped in her tracks. “Hello, Lydria. You have done well, and I am happy to see you.” The man in front of her held out his arms – arms that were strong and scarred, arms that had held her before and she moved toward them, feeling their embrace even before she arrived.
“Father?”
“Yes, child. You have found me, and I am grateful – we can be together now. The joy of my heart is boundless for having seen you.” Tears were running freely down Lydria’s face as she held her arms out to her sides and started walking toward Cargile, her father. Her steps gained speed and she was about to break into a run when she pitched forward, arms splayed in front of her as she struck the ground, the pain in her face momentarily outweighing the exuberance of having found her father.
“Why would he be here?”
Lydria moved to get up but couldn’t – there was something on her back, and a voice next to her ear. “Your father was a great man, a noble warrior – he would not be in this place. Think, sister! Think. This is a trick.”
Moving her eyes up as far as she could, she saw the man standing before her, his arms still wide and his hands moving, grasping the air for her to come to him. She thought of his face staring at her from a pile of rubble in the forest, an arrow sticking from his throat, and she looked at the man in front of her – a man who had never been in so much as a tavern brawl, pleading for her. Calling her magic, she threw Haustis from her back and sent the woman tumbling to the feet of Dravud. Gaining her feet, Lydria looked at her father. He had not moved. He stood still, holding out his hands and waiting for her to come to him.
“What are your dreams?” Lydria stopped looking at the man in front of her, wanting nothing more than to run to him and be held by him once again. But she thought of what her father might tell her: ‘when you are in the land of your enemy, beware anything that seems too good to be true, for it is usually a trap.’
She asked the question again, more forcefully this time, pulling her father upright, his hands coming back to his sides. He looked at her carefully before answering, a voice that was not confident like her father’s. “Dreams are merely the passing fancies of night-time.”
Lydria smiled and he smiled back at her. She looked toward her friends and her sister, winking at the woman, wordlessly apologizing for having thrown her. She turned and walked to her father who again had his hands out to sides, waiting for her to greet him. When she was a step away, his fingers almost brushing her tunic, her neck blazed and her right hand struck forward, a blade of blue light driving into the chest of her father and sending him backward several steps before he turned to dust.
Haustis ran to embrace her and Hokra and Dravud joined her quickly. The Chag seemed not to have noticed what had happened but Dravud smiled.
“How did you know?” Haustis asked.
“Father always said that dreams were a black and white response to decisions – the choices one had to make. That,” she said, “and he would never wait for me to come to him – he would always run to me.”
The others backed away a little, giving Lydria time to herself, to sort through what had happened, and they continued in silence, down the street and past people who continued to greet them as if they could not read the distress on their faces.
The sunshine and happiness did not last long. After several blocks, the light gave way to the perpetual dusk so common in the Nethyn Plains, and the sooty darkness and dirt that was so common in other areas of the Plains became common again. The change was slow, but once it was noticed, it was final and looking back, as she knew she would find, the path was gone, lost in the blackness.
“Where is this place we seek?” Hokra
asked, his gruff voice harsh in the darkness.
“You will not miss it when we arrive,” the guide responded. “Of all the great houses of the Plains, this one stands alone in its beauty and size. The halls of Griffis would, in your world, be a town in their own right. If we ran to him from the front doors, it would take the better part of the morning – or it would feel as if it did.”
“Why has he built such an enormous palace? Lydria was trying to understand why someone with such power would want to hole themselves up in a place like Dravud described.
“He is not alone in this place. Goodness, no. You will confront others before arriving at his throne.” Dravud’s tone did not indicate any particular danger, but instead offered a glimpse of sport. “I have seen what you all are capable of, and I believe this power you wield is unique in the Nethyn Plains. With it, I think you will succeed where so many others before have failed.”
The lights lowered further until Haustis asked quietly if they had missed the trail and wandered into the Shade. The brightness and life of Vul was gone, replaced with the wasting they had seen in the other kingdoms.
“No, the trail remains. Ahead of us lies Griffis’ home. Can you not see it, Chag Prince?”
“I can see a stretch of rock wall before us, but no palace.”
“What you see is the domain of Griffis.”
Soon Hokra mentioned he could see movement up ahead, and the flicker of small orange lights.
“You see well, and what you see is the entrance to the home of Vul Griffis. They are aware of us, and I would be remiss if I did not tell you that a runner moves now to the heart of the palace to inform its master that you have arrived.”
“And we are not his first guests,” Haustis said, her voice calling the others back and she knelt on the ground and gently moved some dirt, careful not to touch the bright gold gash in the ground. When she was sure the others had seen it, she covered it and stood, moving to the front, warily watching for more of the small rips leading from the Nethyn Plains to Eigrae.
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