by Mara Powers
Brigitte suppressed a scream. She yearned for it to be a dream from which she would soon awake. Her brother came into view. He watched with beaming pride. Not even he had seen what had happened. She sank further into despair.
They slowly paraded from the crystal room, and Brigitte resolved that the Watchers had meant for her alone to carry the burden of an incomplete joining. The only thought consuming her now was of the child in her womb, and the child’s father, the musician named D’Vinid.
Atlantis never would forget her peaceful golden years.
But when the earth and sky unite,
it would unveil her tears.
Something they could never dream
in night’s caress to pass.
And darkness took its hold beneath
the shadow of the mass.
MOONLIGHT DANCED ON the water as it rippled in the breeze. D’Vinid sat on the dock, watching the giant full moon hover over the rippling patterns. He had been waiting for his stomach to settle.
“Are you feeling any better?”
D’Vinid closed his eyes, wishing Loressai’s father would disappear. He was in no state to inform him of her strange fate. In many ways, he didn’t understand fatherhood, though an interesting level of empathy accompanied him regarding a father’s love for a daughter, as he felt himself to be the cause of suffering for so many daughters. It was just one more regret weighing on his soul.
“I saw her today, at the cartel docks,” he acknowledged. “She was not herself.” He couldn’t make himself meet Torbin’s eyes. “I tried to help her . . . but there was nothing I could do.” He shook his head gloomily.
“What was she doing there?”
D’Vinid squirmed. “I wish I could tell you, but I have no idea. I saw her last night at Pan’s estate, but she left. And by the Watchers, I ran into her again today.” He made sign to the Watchers just to seem as though he was pious about their guidance. “She was not herself.”
“I was there.” Ofira’s melodious voice came to the rescue. “I saw him try and save her.” D’Vinid closed his eyes in relief. “In fact, we were running for our lives, and he went back to help your daughter.”
D’Vinid struggled to his feet to meet Torbin face-to-face. D’Vinid knew Torbin’s position as keymaster to be highly important in Subterra. Loressai was somewhat like a princess from the inner realm of Sophaiya. He hated the memory of her so conquered. D’Vinid finally found it in himself to greet Keymaster Torbin with the respect afforded a ruler.
“What happened to her? Where is she now?” Torbin asked again with a steady voice. His patience was growing thin.
“I don’t know,” said D’Vinid. “But I saw who took her. I think they were intending to help her.” He hesitated, unsure how to proceed. “They needed to take her. She was acting strange. Violent, in fact.”
Torbin nodded sharply. “Can you find these people?”
“I wish I knew, keymaster. There was a lot going on at the time.” He shook his head. “If I could only tell you how complicated my life has been the past few days.”
“Keymaster Torbin,” Ofira intervened. “There are things you should know about your daughter. D’Vinid has acted nobly on her behalf. I don’t think he should be the one to inform you of the details. It would be to the advantage of all if she could be placed in your care. I would suggest we send D’Vinid to search out her location while I begin to explain to you the extent of her troubles.” Her eyes urged D’Vinid to use this window as his escape.
“Upon what authority do you speak, young lady?” Torbin asked suspiciously, eying her weathered sea-faring outfit.
“I am Ofira Pazit, Captain of Poseidon’s Dreamship Vex Voyager.” She bowed with a flourish of her hand. “I have come to Poseidia on a mission from the Watchers.”
“You have my attention,” Torbin nodded, folding his arms.
“I will begin searching for Loressai,” D’Vinid quickly interjected, and backed away as Torbin’s attention shifted darkly to Ofira. He flashed the summmoner-crystal toward her so she knew how to find him, and headed quickly toward the esplanade, floating on a wave of gratitude.
Where the dock ended and the land began, Ofira’s animata warrior stood like a statue with its arms folded. When it caught sight of D’Vinid, it animated and moved toward him. Gently it reached into a sack over its shoulder, producing the hover-disc Ofira had given him earlier that day.
“Hey! Thanks!” D’Vinid was relieved to see the disc again after leaving it behind in his flight from Kyliron at the nodeyard. His gratitude for Ofira’s cunning redoubled. He flicked the disc toward the ground and found himself wondering if perhaps it wouldn’t be so awful to have her ability to know what was about to happen all the time. With an unnecessary salute to the warrior, he sped off toward the Grand Esplanade.
At first he couldn’t be sure where he was headed, until he began noticing the wispy blur of blue-dream markers leading down a side street. He noticed they carried feelings with them, the energetic signatures and emotional imprints of their makers. His hover skills were finally becoming second nature, as he could split his attention between navigating and contemplation. This ever-present feeling of guilt seemed to have become part of him. He knew he was a better person than he had acted through the cycles. Somehow he had strayed from himself. He wanted to imagine it wasn’t too late to change. That lifted his spirits slightly.
So many looked to him for leadership and companionship, but he often interpreted their admiration for mockery, their smiles for ridicule. The arms of women were his eternal refuge, and yet they lacked any real comfort for him. The attraction and the wanting were what made him have any feeling at all. But once it shifted, and his lovers decided they wanted to hold onto him, to possess him, to turn the discs of joining, he would run. He had no interest in nursing the attachment many women grew toward him. Their hopes were a delusion, and he could never meet them there.
It was in disavowing poor Loressai’s delusion that made him believe he had tossed her to this cruel fate. He felt helpless. It was his fault. He began to wonder if perhaps his life’s random wanderings had always been influenced by the Watchers. He rarely made appointments, and yet he always seemed to be right where they wanted him. Perhaps if he stopped resisting, his choices wouldn’t always transform into mistakes. It was becoming obvious if he could reunite Loressai with her father, he could begin to make up for the wrong he did to her and to Kyliron.
And to yourself, a voice appeared in his thoughts. He shivered and sped up.
Following a trail of blue markers, he buzzed through the luminous streets of the Outlands, allowing his mind to relax. He stretched his auric field into the telluric currents, grasping an alien type of freedom. He felt a profound connection to the Grid. In a sudden move, he slipped from the road mound. The torsion-crystal searched for traction, and caught on a wispy current. He bounced the disc off a wall, and tried an old twisting flip he used to do. As he flew through the air, he stretched out his senses to find another current, and skimmed down a footpath.
A peculiar sensation pricked the back of his mind. He hopped off the hover-disc, trying to place the agitation. His ears perked at the sound of pebbles falling from above. He fell into a ready stance. In the night’s shroud, his breathing became shallow. The city was teeming with life. But around him, death seemed to gather on all sides, threatening to corner him.
A passage from the Cantos sprung up, and he repeated it over and over again to occupy himself from the nagging presence. “Darkness is a measure of thy mind. If thou chooseth to walk the paths of night, then thy world shall shape itself to fit thy journey. For the nature of matter is truly fluid; and thy desire, that which shapes it.” He concentrated into the summoner-crystal to make sure Ofira knew where to find him at all times. The night air smelled of mildew. The shadows seemed to stir in every direction, closing in on him like a pack of wolves.
He slid back against a wall, nervously clutching the retracted hover-disc. He could sense
the cold prickle of invisible eyes on him from all angles. “Who’s there?” he shouted. Taking a few steps toward the edge of a small canal, he closed his eyes. Trying to shake the fear, he broke out in a sprint toward a nearby bridge. Though there was no physical sign of it, by now he understood; something he couldn’t see was hunting him through the misty night.
LIGHTS TWINKLED IN the trees and flowers. Brigitte stood on the landing of her private chambers, gazing out over the moonlit garden. Servants worked to peel off her silver joining gown until only her painted body remained.
One of the servant girls prepared the steam room. She lifted a handle connected to a small, sliding hatch, rerouting hot water flowing through hollow tubes above. This created a strong flow of showers in every corner, as well as a lazy waterfall in the center. Closing the door trapped the steam inside. “When you are ready, Your Majesty.” The servant bowed and stepped aside. Brigitte entered the shower to wash off the metallic color, which pooled in silver tributaries and sucked down the drain in a glimmering vortex.
With the joining ceremony, the night had only begun. The servants prepared an outfit for her. The custom for a joining celebration required the bride to activate her sexual magnetism, so the clothing was meant to be revealing. Seeing the admiration of other men would arouse the male mate. The pair was traditionally fed aphrodisiac elixirs throughout the night.
Allondriss sat on a long lounging chair nearby, allowing herself a rest. She watched Brigitte, suspecting the dreamclan woman was not accustomed to such pampering. The servants went about highlighting Brigitte’s features with plant-based dyes, dabbing her body meridians with floral essences, and tying an array of hanging red ribbons to her ensemble. Her hair was arranged in a pile on her head, with strands of curls spilling over her shoulders. The ribbons would soon be tied to ribbons hanging from Kyliron. It was an age-old tradition, which allowed family and friends to acknowledge the new mates in the eyes of the public.
“Will Pan be here at the celebration tonight?” asked Brigitte. A flutter of eagerness touched her heart.
“I don’t think so,” Allondriss sighed. “His court is celebrating the Ka-Ma-Sha. He does not attend royal courts, I’m afraid. He has too rich of a social life at his own estates.” Allondriss was interrupted before she could reveal Pan’s real reasoning, how he had publicly vowed to counteract everything Kyliron stood for. He would never be invited to Kyliron’s courts.
“Beautiful. Simply breathtaking,” a male voice came from behind. The servants sprung to stunned attention at the king’s intrusion. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides. Stepping gently into Brigitte’s personal space, his fingers softly brushed the smooth texture of her skin. She did her utmost not to show her apprehension.
His breath took in a slow inhale of her perfume. His languid eyes examined the bare contours of her waist. “I am a lucky man,” he spoke, shaking his head in disbelief. “My mate, I wish to escort you to our joining revelry, if you feel you are presentable to the public.”
She forced herself to bare her neck to his tactile exploration. “I would be honored, My Lord.”
He was wearing court fashion. A red leather vest cut in intricate stencils was fashioned to fall below the rib cage in front, and long in the back. Red fitted pants were cut low, revealing his hard abdomen. He wore a sheer, red pleated robe with golden accents, hanging open to show his chest. A gold crown accented with rubies rested on his head. Just like hers, his ensemble had an array of hanging ribbons tied to it.
He lifted the back of his wrist to raise her palm in a formal escorting gesture. Though it seemed he would lead her back through the main entrance, he guided her instead into the gardens. She marveled at the king’s exquisite presence, wishing she could love him as completely and suddenly as she did D’Vinid. With a look of invitation, he encouraged Allondriss to follow along.
“I have welcomed Allondriss.” He waggled his fingers toward the young temple outcast. “She is to be your official companion.”
Brigitte nodded, taking comfort in the information.
One of the paths ended at a set of double doors. Kyliron stopped to face her. “I have also welcomed your brother as your personal dreamseer. And your fury is now your bodyguard. My father and I have taken steps to raise the position of the Warrior Sect in our time. Bringing a warrior with you has caused some resistance among the High Council. But I am pleased. It is a good queen who can further the causes of her king.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” she bowed. “I feel safer having him around. After the attack . . .” His grip on her hand tightened, suggesting she remain quiet.
“As queen you will be required to appoint a personal maydriss who will advise you on all affairs. You must also appoint an external naydir to arrange your public appointments. Brigitte tried not to roll her eyes. With her extensive training, this was basic knowledge.
“For me,” he continued, “Jamarish Ka occupies my maydrian position. I will make sure you are presented with candidates so you can have one as good as mine.”
He held out a golden bracelet with a clear crystal wrapped in a simple mounting. With a sly smile on his face, he waved it over a smooth panel on the doors. She watched as the doors swung open to reveal a beautifully carved chamber with five walls and five different sets of double doors.
“This is the royal staging area for court. One leads to your personal court. Access will be granted to you when you are ready. One leads to my court, to which you will not have ready access. The other leads to our shared court.”
“Where does this one lead?” she gestured to the fifth door next to the one they entered through.
He pulled her into his embrace. “I will show you.”
He slid the crystal bracelet onto Brigitte’s wrist. She caressed its smooth facets with her thumb.
“Pass the accessor over the lock,” he guided gently. Imitating the Children of One she had met earlier, she lifted the accessor-crystal to her lips and hummed a note. Allowing her lips to vibrate on its surface set the crystal buzzing in her hand. She passed it over the side panel. The door lit up, and a jolt of electricity veined through the etchings.
Kyliron sputtered in awe. “What did you just do? I’ve only seen soul-crystals do that.” He stewed on it for a few moments. Brigitte ignored him, instead taking notice of the sight ahead. Beyond lay a magnificent open courtyard built around a tree that looked remarkably like the shape of a woman. She recognized it instantly as the one from her vision when D’Vinid gave her the rose. She felt an overwhelming sense of welcome radiating from the tree. She began to wonder how D’Vinid had gotten hold of the rose in the first place.
Kyliron made a beeline for the tree and knelt beside its thick trunk. “Mother, give me strength,” he prayed with clasped hands, looking at the hanging leaves with love in his eyes. Brigitte watched with reverence, taking note of Kyliron’s gentleness toward it. He turned to her, holding out his hand. She accepted it gracefully.
“Mother, meet my new mate,” he smiled. “Brigitte, this is the shrine of my mother, Queen Dafni, your predecessor. She would have loved you.”
“Hello, Dafni,” she spoke, admiring the moonlight filtering through the tree’s luxurious fronds.
Kyliron watched with a boyish smile.
“Is it true the tree grew overnight?” she asked.
“It made my father believe in Watcher magic again.” Kyliron’s voice grew distant. “But it’s a poor replacement for my mother. She was more lovely than all of Atlantis.”
After a long moment, he began to leave, and extended his hand to her. For an instant, she felt hypnotized by the tree, and shuddered, feeling a sense of deep sorrow. A powerful elemental presence inhabited this courtyard, and it was not happy to see her leave.
She pulled herself away, and they returned together to the royal staging area.
He pressed another crystal into her hand, and beckoned to the door of her private court. “You may explore your domain at your leisure. I am ce
rtain you will find it to your liking. And should you not, simply say a word, and it shall be transformed to suit your whim.” He leaned in close, and spoke softly into her ear. His voice caused a ripple of sensation through her body. “The queen’s court should be a center of culture and beauty,” he continued. “It is up to you and your entourage to populate this court. Soon you may choose from the house of courtiers, or welcome any from the mediator households. There will be many petitioners who will approach you for a position at your court; musicians, dancers, historians, artisans, Temple Sect advisers, trainers, philosophers, poets, mixologists, lovers. Wherever your interests point, my love. I look forward to seeing what you choose.” He reached his lips down to her face, brushing ever so slightly across her cheek.
Her apprehension faded. She gazed up at him, longing for such tenderness to remain.
“Come now, our celebration awaits us in our shared court.” His moves were smooth as a cat’s. With a gentle, caressing touch, he guided them toward their adjoined court. The opening doors revealed a landing with two thrones. Their arrival captured the attention of the colorful courtiers mingling in the moonlit courtyard beyond. A wave of approval gradually erupted, as the first courtiers noticed their unannounced arrival, and passed on the news with their applause.
Kyliron guided Brigitte to a throne, and stood at the one beside her. She was careful to maintain delicate movements, though she felt heavy with fatigue. When they sat at the same time, cheering exploded through the courtyard. Kyliron beckoned for the revelry to continue. A musical ensemble created a high celestial chorus with their various instruments. Allondriss stayed behind Brigitte’s throne, trying to remain elusive, although everyone strained to have a look at the queen’s unusual temple companion. Lukias approached. He had bathed and brushed his hair, and looked more handsome than ever in a clean hooded robe. Brigitte smiled dazzlingly as he kissed her hand with a wink. “I barely recognized you, brother.” She laughed.