by Ziv Gray
Since arriving in Athomur, she had seen little of her friends. Any time Emmy caught a glance of them, their faces were drawn. She didn’t envy them, either.
Things were hushed in the healer’s tent. The atmosphere grew quieter than Emmy could bear and, more often than not, she found herself wandering the brink of the battle preparations. Anything was better than the suffocating silence of anticipation, of empty stretchers awaiting the injured. And the dead.
As she approached the tent, Emmy’s pace slowed. She stared at the weeds growing between the cracks in the stone paths. She looked up, shielding her eyes against the light that lingered behind the blanket of cloud that smothered the moons.
‘Protect us,’ she whispered. ‘I have too much to lose to die now.’
Emmy pulled back the tent flap and entered on silent feet. How likely is it that we’ll all live? Emmy thought. Perhaps none of us will. Shipbait was, as Commander Pama was so fond of saying, nothing more than arrow-fodder. Even if Emmy managed to stay safe and far from the battle, Charo and Zecha would surely perish—and Emmy didn’t want to think about how she would feel then.
Rel sat in the same spot she had occupied when Emmy left. Her head was bowed. Emmy bit her lip. The burning braziers cast a dim light across the patterned canvas, and gave off an unpleasant heat.
As Emmy approached, Rel turned. Emmy placed a hand on her shoulder before she sat on the next cot.
‘I’m scared, too,’ she said.
Rel gave Emmy’s talons a brief pat.
‘I’m not scared,’ she said. ‘I have faced death many times. That doesn’t concern me.’ To prove the point, she jangled the bracelets on her right wrist. ‘No, I’m not scared.’
Rel dropped her gaze and Emmy followed it. For the first time, Emmy saw the long scabbard laid across her lap. It was elaborate and beautiful, inlaid with intricate patterns of lacquered wood. It made the daggers slung at Emmy’s waist seem nothing more than vegetable knives.
The hilt was long and worn with many cycles of use. The pommel was so large, it was a deadly weapon in itself. Rel stood and, in an impossibly swift movement, unsheathed the sword. Emmy jerked back as she arced it through the air.
‘This is Haelo,’ Rel said. ‘It has been my weapon for many cycles—another gift from my friend.’ She swept the sword forward and twisted around, thrusting its tip towards Emmy. She withdrew it as quickly as she had driven it forward, then held the hilt to Emmy. Her ring glimmered. ‘Hold it,’ she said.
Emmy hesitated, but at Rel’s bidding, she took the sword in both hands. She staggered under its weight, the tip scraping the ground. She tried to swing, but her arms burned with the effort to wield it. Rel didn’t laugh. She slipped behind Emmy to rearrange her grip.
‘Haelo is strong,’ Rel said into her ear. ‘It knows me, but it doesn’t know you. Haelo doesn’t like to be held by anyone else, because it belongs to me and me alone. It makes itself too heavy for anyone else to lift.’
As soon as Rel’s hands were on the hilt, it was like the weapon was hewn of air. Emmy’s jaw dropped as Rel to guided her arms.
‘How?’
Rel did laugh this time, and withdrew her hands from the sword. As soon as she did, the blade sank, half-wrenching Emmy’s arms from their sockets.
‘It became heavy because I let it go,’ Rel said.
‘But how?’ Emmy asked. ‘How can that be possible? How can you do that?’
Rel retrieved her weapon and returned it to its sheath. She adjusted the belt slung at her waist.
‘My friend,’ she said, and elaborated no further.
Emmy grunted and reached out to plant a hand on Rel’s arm. She gripped hard.
‘Tell me,’ Emmy said. ‘Stop being so vague. Tell me what you really mean. I want to know. You want me to go see your friend. Well, I want to know who your friend is. How could she teach you such…magic?’
Rel turned away. Frustration bloomed like a black spot in Emmy’s mind.
‘Tell me!’
Emmy grabbed Rel’s arm and spun her back. Then she stepped away, stumbling.
Rel’s eyes glowed the brightest of blues.
She placed her hands on Emmy’s shoulders.
‘I don’t have the words to tell you,’ she said, ‘but I will show you.’
Suddenly, they were no longer in the healer’s tent.
The world pulsed and undulated like a storm at sea, and Emmy found herself rolling on waves of bright blue light. She clung to Rel as they hurtled through the brightness, blinded by fear and confusion. Something drew them forward, some kind of…power. Rel’s heart quickened. Emmy’s beat in time with it, as if they were one.
They soared from the saltwater shore, and the world spilled around them. The moons rose, impossibly bright and blue against the grey sky. Everything else washed out, like a faded pattern. Emmy could hear voices, a thousand voices, a million voices, all at once. Talking. Laughing. Crying.
‘What’s happening?’ Emmy screeched.
Rel said nothing, but kept a strong grip on Emmy’s hands.
‘You are going to meet my friend,’ she said.
‘What?’
Rel did not respond. Instead, she loosened her grasp on Emmy’s hands.
And Emmy was falling, falling, falling…
Sweet perfume floated on a gentle breeze. Freezing air licked every inch of her skin, and yet she wasn’t cold. Emmy opened her eyes, squinting against the streams of light that poured through thick treetops. Blue sky peered in through the white canopy, the bare branches shifting like blinking eyes.
She sat up, her hands sinking into the soft bower of snow and curling roots that cradled her. Snowflakes coated her, and her long black fronds swept down her sides, pooling in gentle waves.
The air was silver with euphoria. The sides of the tall grey trees blurred and sharpened in a beating pulse. Soft voices whispered on the wind. Emmy strained to hear their secrets.
She stood, fronds falling around her like a robe. Her bare feet curled into the soft snow underfoot. She tried to run, but her limbs would not obey. She could only wade through the thick snow. She glided through the tree-scape, still listening to the words on the breeze. Where are the voices coming from? Everywhere at once and yet nowhere at all, growing louder with every forward step.
As she walked, a single voice rang louder than the rest. It was different. It was singing. The melody was painful, so beautiful and mournful that Emmy felt her heart would shatter.
‘Where are you?’ she called.
Echoes of her words were her only response.
‘Who are you?’
Still nothing.
As the snow thinned, she reached a clearing. The sun’s rays skated and bounced off sheer ice cliffs, blinding her. Emmy tried to wrench her head away, but her neck wouldn’t obey. She wanted to shield her eyes with her hands, but they wouldn’t rise. As she adjusted to the light, the source of the singing became clear.
A female sat among high snow drifts. Her skin was blue, her armour purple. Uloni! Emmy thought. She’s one of my kind!
The Uloni’s mouth remained closed, yet she poured forth beautiful music, harmonious and discordant all at once. The words were strange. Emmy shouldn’t have understood them, and yet she could comprehend. What is this place? Who is she?
She tried to look away, to close her eyes and ears and run, but her senses were sharpened and her feet rooted in the snow. Against her bidding, she walked forward. Her footsteps made no sound on the crisp snow. Mid-note, the female opened her eyes. The music fell silent.
‘You have arrived.’
As when she sung, when the female spoke, her mouth didn’t open. Her voice echoed deep in Emmy’s mind. She stood and walked, her sparkling robe sweeping behind her. Though she was imposing, when she walked, she left no impressions in the snow.
Emmy couldn’t look away. Her body trembled. The great female reached for her. Her touch was cold, colder than any snow. Emmy tried to speak, but her throat was frozen.
Ice travelled through her, stilling her entire body.
‘Emena,’ the Uloni said, locking Emmy’s eyes in her gaze. ‘Athoset.’
Emmy tried to pull away but could not.
‘I have sought you for many cycles,’ she went on. ‘I am glad I have finally found you.’
She let go of Emmy’s face, and Emmy found her body within her control again. She stumbled backwards, clutching her head.
‘What is going on?’ she asked. The words echoed against the smooth ice walls that surrounded them. ‘This isn’t possible.’
‘I assure you, it is,’ said the Uloni. ‘Many things are possible with faith. Athoset, you are here to help rid the world of a terrible mistake.’
Emmy shook her head.
‘I don’t understand,’ Emmy said. ‘Don’t call me that name. None of this is real! Rel said… Rel said she would let me see her friend, the one she’s been talking about. But this… This can’t be real!’
The female chuckled. The sound was deep sound and warmed Emmy to her core.
‘Oh, this is real,’ she said. ‘I know Rel, and have known her for countless cycles. Rel is my friend and I am hers. I am Bomsoi. And now, Athoset, you are my friend, too.’
Emmy shook her head so hard she saw stars.
‘Rel!’ she screeched. ‘What have you done to me?’
Rel wasn’t there to respond. Instead, the Uloni—Bomsoi—reached for her.
‘What is made cannot be unmade,’ she said, ‘but what is made can be destroyed. You are my child. You are my blood. And you will help me do what is right.’
‘No!’ Emmy cried, pressing her claws to her ears. ‘I don’t want any of this!
Krodge’s image flashed across Emmy’s mind. She winced.
‘What? I don’t—’
‘You do not have a choice, Athoset,’ Bomsoi said. This time, remorse tainted her words. ‘You have done nothing wrong, but you must help to put right the wrongs of others. It can only be you. You do not have a choice.’
Emmy went to speak but words failed her. Without warning, the female placed her hands on Emmy’s chest, her eyes shining like blue diamonds.
Emmy felt a jolt of air slice through her lungs. Her blood froze, cold surging through her body. Her heart exploded with a beat. She stumbled back.
Bomsoi raised her hands to the sky. Emmy wavered. Blood roared in her ears. Her mind darkened as if pitch consumed her. Consciousness drained from her, and the last thing she saw were the three moons, stacked on one another.
And they were talking.
Emmy woke with a jolt. Rel reached to steady her, her eyes round with compassion.
‘Rel, what was that?’ Emmy asked through shuddering breaths. She clutched at her chest. ‘Rel, what just happened to me?’
‘That was my friend,’ Rel said. ‘Bomsoi. I told you she could see things and do things that I cannot understand.’
Her breath still coming in rolling waves, Emmy looked around. She was on a cot at the rear of the tent. Darkness had fallen.
‘But Rel, you did something to me,’ Emmy said. ‘Your eyes, they were blue—just like the Uloni’s, like your friend’s.’ Frustration rising, her eyes bulged. ‘Who are you?’
Rel sat on her haunches. She looked at Emmy. She waited. Then she offered a sheepish smile.
‘I did not seem strange to my folk just because I wanted different things,’ she said.
Closing her eyes, Rel schooled her face with the hardest concentration. There was silence for a moment. Then came the freezing wind.
Emmy’s mouth fell open as her friend morphed before her eyes. The dark green tinge of her scales drained away, leaving behind a purple wash. It was paler than Emmy’s, greyer, yet still as strange. Her yellowish skin pinkened, then blanched to a sickly blue
‘Rel!’ Emmy squeaked. ‘You’re like me!
Rel gave a small sigh as her fronds turned from green to black, as if her head had been dipped in ink.
‘I did not fit in because I was not one of them,’ she said. ‘My father was Belfoni, but my mother was Uloni.’
Emmy blinked and blinked again. I can’t believe this… She reached out, hands trembling. When her talons settled on Rel’s face, she felt flesh beneath them. This is not a phantom.
‘My friend did not find me simply because I was lost,’ Rel said. ‘She found me because she was looking for me. Bomsoi is a powerful and strange creature, who is not entirely of this world. She wanted me to do something, but…I could not.’ Rel dropped her gaze. ‘I do not have enough Uloni blood to do what she needs.’ She looked at Emmy again. ‘But I knew that her needs were great, and she was running out of time. So I stayed to help her. In return, Bomsoi looked after me, and taught me some of what she knew, including how to change my colours. It has been helpful, as I’m sure you can understand.’
Emmy nodded.
‘If I could change my colours, I would,’ she said. ‘I would have changed a long time ago, so folk wouldn’t hate me for what I am.’
Rel reached out and patted Emmy’s cheek.
‘Before long, you will understand why you are the way you are,’ she said. ‘And before long, folk will appreciate you for you. You don’t need to hide. The opinions of others mean nothing when you can accept yourself.’
Rel let her arm fall away. Emmy took a shuddering breath as the memory of the cold returned.
‘Bomsoi,’ she said, rolling the name around on her tongue. ‘Your friend is Bomsoi. You mentioned her before, when Commander Pama was berating you.’ Emmy’s eyes widened. ‘And now it makes sense. You snatched me up because you knew I was Uloni, and you know Bomsoi wanted me.’
‘Yes,’ Rel said. ‘Bomsoi and I have looked for the last of the Uloni for many cycles.’
‘She—Bomsoi—called me something strange. Athoset. What does it mean?’
Rel inclined her head.
‘Athoset is a name,’ she said. ‘It means “duty-bound” or “one who does.” She called me that name, once upon a moon,’ Rel continued. ‘I am glad I have found the real bearer of it.’
A thought struck her, and she looked at her hands. She eased the ring from her finger, kissed it, and held it out in her palm.
‘Here. Take it. This is the ring of Athoset. It was never truly mine. Now, it’s yours.’
‘Rel, I can’t take it,’ Emmy said. ‘It’s yours—’
‘No,’ Rel replied as she slid the ring up to Emmy’s knuckle. ‘There will be no argument. It is yours.’
Emmy swallowed.
‘So it’s all real,’ she said. ‘The vision, Bomsoi. You. It’s all real. Not an illusion. Not a figment of a fevered mind.’
‘It is real, Athoset,’ Rel said. ‘When the village was burned so many cycles ago, we feared there were no Uloni left. We have searched all over these lands, trying to find someone of pure Uloni blood.’ She chuckled and shook her head. ‘And to think, all it took was a war to find you.’
Emmy shook her head, staring at the ring’s cracked stone.
‘We’re not at war,’ she said.
Rel’s expression sharpened and she shook her head. One hand went to pat Haelo.
‘The Metakalans have fallen,’ she said, ‘and the Masvams are coming for the Althemerians. This city will be nothing more than a slaughterhouse. Rest assured, young one. We are at war.’
Emmy sat back. She rubbed her thumbs over the coarseness of her tunic and fiddled with Rel’s ring. The ring of Athoset. Her ring.
‘Why does Bomsoi want me?’ she asked. ‘What did she want you to do that you couldn’t? And where is she? Why isn’t she here?’
‘Always with questions,’ Rel said, though her tone was kind. ‘As time passed and the Lunar Awakening approached, Bomsoi’s mind became more turned. She left not long before you arrived, though she did not tell me why.’
Rel chuckled, but the conversation stopped as something thundered in the distance. Rel stilled. Her ears perked up. Her eyes flicked to the tent entrance, then back to Emmy.
‘Those are drums,’ she said. ‘The Masvams have come.’
‘Charo and Zecha—’ Emmy began.
Her words were silenced by a high-pitched horn blast.
‘We can only hope they come through this alive,’ Rel said. ‘Like all of us, that is all we can hope for.’
She patted Haelo’s sheath again and stood, then held a hand to Emmy.
‘Today will not bring our deaths,’ she said, pulling Emmy to her feet. Her eyes sparkled, blue speckles piercing the grey orbs. As she spoke, her appearance changed again. Within seconds, she wore her Belfoni mask once more. ‘It cannot. We have too much to do,’ she said, ‘and I cannot die right now. I promised to bring you to my friend.’
Emmy nodded and latched onto Rel’s unadulterated bravery. The memory of her vision returned. Rel is my friend and I am hers. I am Bomsoi. And now, Athoset, you are my friend, too…
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Proclamation
Bandim Tiboli did not suffer from his nerves. He liked to give the impression that he had never been afraid in his life. Now, as he stood motionless on the pedestal in his chambers, the attendants of his closet wrapping him in silks, the emperor truly believed it.
He had always hated state dress. Layer upon layer of fantastically patterned fabrics wrapped him, all encrusted with jewels and spun metal threads. Only on the occasions when his father had demanded it had Bandim relented and allowed himself to be dressed so. Before, it was frivolousness. Now, it was necessity.
His attendants were quick and, within the hour, they put the final touches to his headdress. It was an ancient circlet of sparkling silver with red and orange jewels dripping like globules of blood. His horn crest was draped with the finest chains, with horizontal bars running through the loops and letting more gems spill down the sides of his head. His face was painted. His fronds were braided with red and orange ribbons, the colours of House Tiboli. My house, he thought. My house, now.