by Kyrja
Aidena groaned in her sleep, the dream more vivid each time she experienced it. Nor was it merely a dream borne of fantasy or wishful thinking. She had held the glowing vine in her own two hands in the waking world. Being the one to find the vine that glowed was the best part of that terrible day; she just hadn’t known it when she’d gasped as the dying vine had pulsed with its vibrant light. She had laughed out loud, thrilled to be the one to take the plant home to her own village, feeling particularly blessed.
By the time she’d left the Festival of Giya’s Tears the next morning, her life had been turned inside out at the hands of the stranger who had raped her, then had knocked her senseless. New life was blossoming both in the vine securely stowed in her satchel, and in her battered womb.
Aidena fought the dream, struggling to wake up. There was no need for this dream now. Not anymore. Her daughter was precious to her, no matter how she was created, no matter how she was raised. She could feel her anger rising and encouraged it. She was free of the guilt, free of the memories, free of the shame. She had done nothing wrong and would not accept this dream as some kind of punishment or self-incrimination. She would not!
“The Tears of Giya are sweet, are they not?”
The sound of the voice brought her struggles to an end. Her eyes opened of their own accord as she turned her head to the right, seeking the speaker. When she saw the owl standing a few feet away from her, she shivered, drawing the blankets closer to her chin. Why was she so cold?
“If you scream, I will have to leave,” the owl told her. “Then you will never get the answers you seek.”
Aidena felt her body tense, the desire to shout, or flee automatic at having experienced such a bizarre and frightening sight. Animals weren’t supposed to talk! She drew a shaky breath, reminding herself that the monstrous creature from the sea that Savaar had summoned wasn’t supposed to be in the desert either, but she had actually ridden on top of the thing! She let out her breath, but was unable to relax the muscles of her face enough to ease the look of alarm she knew was there. With eyes wide, she nodded her head to let the owl know she was as in control of herself as she was going to get.
“There is much I have to tell you, Aidena,” the owl said, blinking its eyes rapidly, “but not here.”
She suddenly realized she didn’t know where she was, or how she had come to be here. The last thing she remembered was running towards the rising sand storm. No wait! She remembered being lifted into the air by the storm, feeling exhilarated as she had never felt before, as if she had come “home.”
“The storm!” she said, her voice coming out in a whisper. Automatically raising her hands to her throat, she realized she must have screamed a lot for her throat to feel so raw.
“There is water on the pallet on the other side of you,” the owl informed her.
She tried to thank her odd companion, but started coughing instead, so quickly rolled over to get the water skin waiting for her there. As she lifted the skin, she wondered if her coughing would bring someone to check on her, and hoped not. Someone had obviously been tending to her, since she was laying on a carefully prepared nest of blankets in a tent she didn’t recognize. The sun was shining through the material of the tent, so it was day time, but she had no idea what day it was. She cleared her throat, the muscles feeling somewhat soothed from the water, then tried her voice once more.
“The storm? What happened?”
“You are the daughter of Siri Ventus, born of human flesh when your mother agreed to allow the goddess to possess her to create you.”
Aidena frowned, her eyelids blinking rapidly, as she tried to comprehend what this creature was telling her. “What does that have to do with storm?” she asked, confused.
“That is the reason you were drawn to the storm,” the owl replied, “and why you were not killed. Because you are the heir of the Goddess of Air.”
“And my mother agreed to this?” was the only thing she could think to say. It was really too much to take in all at once. She wasn’t even sure which question to ask first.
Twisting its head so it was looking behind itself, the owl suddenly opened its wings, in a way that Aidena thought made it look like it was nervous. Then she heard voices approaching and wondered why she knew it was important the owl not be discovered. There wasn’t anywhere it could go though, without escaping through the doorway where whoever was coming would enter. She looked at the owl, who looked at her in return. She could feel a thousand things in those piercing yellow eyes and wished he would stay. He? Yes, she decided, the owl was certainly male.
“I will return to you in due time, Aidena,” he said. “You must go to the city by the sea. Right away. You must.” Then he disappeared, as the tent flap was opened and a woman she didn’t recognize walked in.
“Good afternoon Aidena,” the woman said, moving towards her, then kneeling in the sand next to her. “My name is Denit, but most people call me Maw’ki.”
“Crazy?” Aidena asked, not sure whether to laugh or be concerned. But when the woman smiled, her face alight with amusement, she couldn’t help but to smile in return.
“When you like to be alone, it helps to keep most people away,” she replied, her startling blue eyes caught her own and held them. “From what I hear, you would know about wanting to be alone.”
Aidena clearly heard the question in the woman’s voice, and the opportunity Denit was giving her to be honest with her. Her usual flip answers weren’t likely to satisfy her. Still, it was annoying to be caught at such a disadvantage. What right did she have to be questioning her? She didn’t owe anyone any answers. Especially when she had so many of her own questions. She ought to just get up and leave; she felt more than a little crazy herself at this point.
“Who are you?” she asked instead, deciding she didn’t care if she sounded rude or not. She watched as the woman opened her mouth to reply, then paused, reconsidering. Then she smiled again, only this time Aidena could see it was more forced, as if she wasn’t sure whether it was wise to share what she was about to say or not.
“I’m the grandmother of the young man you were last seen with before you disappeared, and one of many who stood here, watching as you ran into that giant of a storm as if you were sunstruck and had lost your mind.” She paused again, looking down to shake her head in disbelief, then looked at her with exasperation saying, “I watched as you were carried into the air, knowing you were dead, then saw something I had never, not ever, thought I would see.”
Aidena felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up and her heart beat faster as she listened to Denit, unable to recall what happened next, but knowing she wasn’t going to like whatever she had to say.
“The storm stopped, Aidena. Your arms were stretched out like this,” she said, demonstrating, and you just floated back down to the sand as the storm wound down to nothing more than a gentle breeze. And there you stood, as if nothing had happened at all. It was the damnedest thing I have ever seen in my life, I have to tell you.”
Aidena could think of nothing to say. Nothing at all. Why couldn’t she remember what happened? And why had it happened? The owl said she was the heir to the Goddess of Air, but even if that was true, she hadn’t done anything to make the storm stop. She felt dizzy just thinking about all the unanswered questions racing around in her mind.
“So I think, young lady,” Denit said, a wry eyebrow raised, “the better question is, who are you?”
Chapter Fifteen – P’onyem Returns to Giya
“Why have you come mother?” Chared’s voice, calm and deliberate, reached out to her. “Do you hope to rescue me again?”
The quiet scoff at the end of his question frightened P’onyem more than she cared to admit. When she had freed him from the chains, she had been prepared to fight him, even kill him if necessary, but now she was simply too tired. Her courage had all been used up. If not for the presence of Oculis, she might have turned around and kept walking towards the desert until her feet wou
ld carry her no more, leaving her son to fend for himself. The burden of her betrayals and failures was too heavy to carry any further.
“So you are sane again,” she said, making her words a statement, not a question, knowing he would hear the exhaustion in her voice.
“And you are not alone.” An accusation.
Oculis stepped around her to face Chared. Except for the lower levels, the prison was not, as she had expected, a dark place. Instead, there were lights fueled by magic everywhere, their illumination reaching into every corner. So that none might hide, she suspected. She had walked quickly and quietly, a short distance behind Oculis as they’d made their way swiftly to Chared’s cell. Although most of the hallways had been empty, those which held guards or other prisoners were eerily silent as they passed through them. With his hand outstretched in front of him, Oculis had obviously put each man to sleep who stood in their way, or might have witnessed their passing, just as he had done to Eruitt. She had purposefully not looked at their faces as she walked over or around them, determined to be done with this task as quickly as possible, with as little emotional involvement as possible. She didn’t want to be able to recognize anyone later.
Looking at Chared’s face now, sitting there, at ease against the far wall of his cell, she wondered why it was so important he be there when Jarles entered the city. What possible difference could one insane former priest make in the scheme of things? She almost wished the prison was as dark as she’d expected it to be. The face her son wore now was one of arrogance and certainty, as if he knew a terrible secret she would never want to know.
“You are too late, Bird Man,” Chared told Oculis, casually rising from the stone floor, stepping up to the bars that held him prisoner. “Amphidea has found her heir and has drowned him.”
Oculis stilled himself, reaching out with all of his sense as he heard P’onyem’s sharp intake of breath behind him. He had personal knowledge of how just fickle the concept of what so many thought of as “fate” could be, even for those who had gazed into the crystal goblet. He’d known Amphedia would take Jarles, but had not seen that she would drown him.
But then, Chared had been a Merlarn all of his adult life, and undoubtedly only understood drowning in the terms those of his faith used. Perhaps Jarles had only been drowned in service to Amphedia, and was not truly dead for all time. Those who allowed themselves to be drowned in the Storm Goddess’ name did die, but were brought back to life quickly afterwards by the Kiss of Life. Many did panic and suffer, and there was always the very real possibility that they would not be brought back. Some few had, of course, died as a result. These were named as “Amphedia’s Favored,” as they were thought to be more worthy of their goddess’ regard than those who survived.
Nothing more than soothing prattle people told themselves and each other, Oculis knew, in the name of their religious ideals. A notion, he was sure, the mad priests had forwarded to entice more innocents to add to the numbers of their corrupt cult. Amphedia, he had cause to know, was thoroughly entertained with the idea of dogma which considered her to be such a benevolent deity. Indeed, those who died as “Amphedia’s Favored” were rumored to be reborn as creatures who resided under the seas with her, serving her as half-human and half-sea creature. Perhaps, Oculis considered, some of it was even true, but he had grave misgivings that Jarles would have allowed himself to be drowned in Amphedia’s name.
What was most important to him was that Jarles had not been permanently drowned, as the Storm Goddess was known to do to her true children. She was a jealous and petty goddess, he knew, with no desire to share her domain with any who might challenge her – as all children did at some point. He had no way of knowing whether Chared was even right, although the predator’s gleam in his eyes told him he believed what he said to be true.
When he’d left Aidena some twenty days ago, he knew she would follow him to the city by the sea, but her arrival was still another month away. And her powers would still be untested. He thought, if ever so briefly, of going to get her now. If Jarles was well and truly dead, she might be able to revive him. Having thought of the idea, he immediately rejected it as desperation. If Amphedia’s heir was permanently dead, he would have to adjust his own plans. But first he had to know just how “drowned” Jarles was.
“And you’re happy about this?” P’onyem lashed out.
“I am happy Amphedia is pleased,” Chared retorted.
“Is she Chared?” she shouted, her body taunt with anger, taking two steps closer to the cell. “Did she tell you that herself then? After all these years and years of waiting for him, is she really pleased that Jarles is dead?” Spreading her arms wide, she could no longer contain her fury. “All the thousands and thousands of lives lost so that when things didn’t go her own way, she broke her new toy in a snit? Is that what happened Chared? Is it?” she demanded.
Pointing a finger at him, she ranted, “How many are insane because of her Chared? How many generations of people, both Tuq’deb and Puj’hom, have lived the whole of their lives so your precious goddess would have her heir? How many Chared? And now you are happy – or so you say!”
“Don’t talk like that,” Chared said quietly.
“You, better than most, know the lore!” she shouted, pacing back and forth in front of the cell. “All this time and all these people, and now Jarles is dead!” A thought suddenly occurred to her; whirling around she pressed her face to the bars, asking, “Do we start all over now? Is that what happens Chared? Do you even know? No? Who does? How many more must die, like your very own sister did, before your cruel goddess is satisfied? How many? Tell me!” spittle flew from her lips as she screamed, her spirit crushed.
Chared suddenly thrust his arms through the bars, grabbing her by the throat. His face twisted as he tightened his hold on her throat, choking her. “Don’t talk like that mother!” he roared, pressing harder.
“That’s enough!” Oculis commanded, raising his hands.
“No, it’s not!” Chared shouted, lifting P’onyem’s body off the floor as he walked through the bars of his cell, his body turning to liquid with a distinctive squishing sound where it came in contact with the metal, immediately reforming.
“Amphedia,” Oculis whispered, dread and surprise mingled in his voice, taking a step backwards in retreat.
“That’s right Bird Man,” Chared’s voice sneered at him. “This one is precious to you, isn’t she?”
“Leave her!” Oculis commanded. “She’s done nothing to you!”
“She was drowned in my name and is mine to do with what I will,” he told Oculis, squeezing harder now, as P’onyem gasped for breath, her feet kicking, but finding no purchase against the fluid body of her son holding her at arm’s length.
Oculis watched in impotent fury as Chared’s body grew in size, now towering over him, P’onyem held with one over-sized hand, as Chared’s other hand transformed into water. He threw himself at Chared as P’onyem’s son jammed his hand made of water directly into her face, cutting off her ability to breathe at all. Oculis slammed against the bars of the cage, falling to the floor at Chared’s feet, having plunged right through his fluid body.
Looking down at Oculis, Chared told him, “Her service was false, Bird Man, both to me and to your mistress. She has always served Giya.” Oculis watched as Chared’s eyes rolled back in his head, then fell to the floor, his mother’s lifeless body falling on top of him. Amphedia’s possession of her loyal servant obviously at an end.
Oculis could do nothing but stare as P’onyem’s body disintegrated into dust. He found it odd that he felt what must surely be called despair; his chest felt as though a tremendous pressure was pushing against it, and his belly felt hollow. It felt as if his very bones might fail to hold him upright. He hadn’t realized he had cared so much for this one woman, although he’d known he had become truly fond of her. She had been much more than a vessel with which to carry his seed and the fruition of his plans. He touched a finger to
his face to discover he’d shed a tear – his first. He smiled then, a sad smile, he knew, filled with tenderness and regret. She would have been happy to know he’d cried for her.
He wasn’t altogether surprised to see the dusty, sand-like remains of her body funneling through a crack in the stones, as if being drawn back to the earth. Giya was taking P’onyem home.
Oculis allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts, then turned to wake Chared. They still had work to do together, but first he would have to find out what had happened to Jarles.
Chapter Sixteen – Silver Swordfish Sisterhood
Savaar sat back in his chair, taking another drink of his tea, wishing it was beer instead, or even a cool glass of arak. Perhaps later, once this business with the priest was over. For now, he needed a clear mind and calm demeanor.
Abalah would be coming soon, if he kept to his usual schedule – which is something he always did. Control, or at least the illusion of it, was of grave importance to the High Priest of the Blue Dolphin Order. Abalah was a vain and arrogant man, Savaar knew from having watched him for more than a month now, and undoubtedly considered himself the savior of his order. He had to admit he was more than a little surprised anyone would have the courage to reclaim that name after its previous high priest had defied Amphedia’s directive wherein the mother of her heir was concerned. Savaar shook his head, wondering how the men of the Blue Dolphin Order had forgotten just how cruel his mother could be. To have raped S’ray after so many pain-staking centuries had gone into creating the perfect heir was stupidity at its finest.