Blindsighted Wanderer

by E. Hibbs

  “I shall miss Delamere more than I ever thought possible,” she admitted in a whisper, and drifted into slumber.

  *

  Silas and Raphael spent the remainder of the afternoon together, walking through the trees and telling of their own ventures ever since Julian’s funeral. Silas was amazed at how Raph had found the Fotánis – but even more so at the way in which his brother had softened the heart of the creature that had seemed intent on killing him.

  But, he reminded himself, as his heart swelled with fondness and pride, this is Raph.

  He looked out across the Lake, through the trees. As every moment passed to bring them closer to night, the place seemed to come alive with its own beautiful energy. Now that the heavy blanket of fog had lifted its hold, he found that he had no words for the wonder in his mind. It was full of glory and light, like everything there was made of its own precious jewel, and the air shimmered with the shine of magic.

  Eventually, as the sun dipped, they arrived back at the cave. Irima had stayed with Merrin, who had retreated into the far depths to keep out of reach of the sun. Raphael had told Silas about Merrin’s nature, and also relayed her story – and despite himself, Silas found that he could empathise alarmingly with her. Now, as he viewed her Kingdom with new eyes, he saw her differently: graceful, flowing, and beautiful beyond description.

  When Irima saw them, she left the slumbering Princess and rushed to Silas, throwing her arms around him with such force that she knocked the breath from his lungs. Through her hair, he noticed Raphael cock an eyebrow at him and he flustered.

  Irima drew back and held his face in her hands, running her fingers gently over his cheeks. “It’s so wonderful to be a’lookin’ upon brown eyes in the daylight at last,” she said softly. “By Lady, they be even deeper now than at night.”

  Trying to ignore Raphael, Silas smiled and placed a hand on her neck. “Aye,” he replied simply. Then he glanced at his brother. “I shall never be blind to how others feel towards me again.”

  Raphael grinned widely, and squeezed his shoulder. Then Silas noticed that he was holding his other hand behind his back.

  Suspicion crept in his throat, and quickly jumped aside. However, he didn’t move fast enough, and a handful of fallen leaves slammed into his face. He exclaimed, hearing Raphael’s hearty chuckle. Silas felt heat rising to his ears, and he glared at him as he stooped to grab up the leaves – but before he could throw them, another handful exploded into Raphael from the side.

  Irima grinned, clutching at her ribs as chuckles racked her. The two brothers glanced at each other, and then made for her as one. She screamed and leapt behind a tree, Silas and Raphael close behind, laughter filling the air.

  Silas went to grab her, but then Raphael spun on his heel and ploughed into him. The two of them crashed to the ground in a heap. Irima laughed so hard that she had to hold onto a nearby branch to hold herself upright. Silas coughed and shoved Raphael off him, shaking his head wildly and sending fragments of leaves fluttering out of his hair. Raphael cackled and propped himself up on his elbows, face flushed.

  Through the trees, the sky was beginning to tint a beautiful pink, the clouds’ violet wisps streaking across it. The nyhtegale began his song in the depths of Delamere. The breeze was warm with the honey heat of the summer sun. The smell of blossoms lingered at the edges of every breath: lavender, lily, amarant, and rose. Delight was like a heady perfume as all misconceptions of this beautiful, untouched place were finally cast away. The humans, alone in the west, danced in bliss so much bigger than themselves, alive and content among each other.

  Silas caught sight of something shining out of the corner of his eye. Irima noticed it at exactly the same time.

  “What’s that?” she asked, her voice shaking with the aftermath of her laughter.

  Silas didn’t answer as he grasped it and stared. It was the small holed stone that he had given to Raphael years ago. The memory of going under the river filled his head as he slowly turned the rock in his palm.

  “Oh!” Raphael said suddenly. “It must have fallen out of my shirt just now.”

  “You kept it?” Silas frowned. “Why did you bring it with you?”

  His brother shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose I hoped it might help in finding thee. I thought not to leave it with my clothes as they dry – I’ve become rather used to it against my skin.”

  Silas turned his eyes to Raphael; then looked back to the stone, tightening his fingers around it. “I remember Pap taking me aside after that day,” he said. “He told me that if I ever found another one, not to brandish it so. He said that evil folk were said to look through them, and see things that the eye cannot.”

  The choking smell of smoke, still horribly near in his memory, filled his nose and he cleared his throat anxiously.

  Raphael nodded. His mouth was rigid. “Aye, he mentioned that to me also.”

  They glanced at each other, and then at Irima. She shook her head, one hand fleetingly tracing the shape of her crucifix.

  “Well, I say nonsense to that!” she stated. “There be no way in this world that either o’ yer are evil, do yer hear me right, eh? So quit your misery this instant, n’ smile!”

  “Indeed.”

  Silas spun around and noticed Merrin, having moved to the cave mouth. She was kneeling, resting her hands casually in her lap. The shadow cast by the rocky lip overhead was barely covering her knees.

  Raphael started. “Merrin, go back! The sun!”

  She didn’t move. “Relax. It is almost sundown, do you not see?”

  Silas frowned, and glanced at the sky. Indeed, the violent red of the evening had dimmed to a gentle mirage of blue and purple; the boughs transformed to silhouettes overhead, with their leaves etched in soft light. White in the distant colour, a large full moon beamed down from the Heavens.

  He gasped. The time had passed so quickly, and now he didn’t have to wait for night, it had come down upon him as silent and unmeaning as it always had before. In part, he was appalled with himself, for automatically relying on his eyes too much already.

  As though his older brother had read his thoughts, Raphael squeezed Silas’ shoulder gently, eyes shining. On Silas’ other side, Irima flashed one of her sharp-toothed grins. Merrin rose to her feet fluidly, gaze still on them.

  “This shall be the final time that I will see daylight in your company,” she said, her voice strangely depressed. “I know that you will depart. It is far too dangerous for you to remain in this place. If it was possible for you to find solace here in Zandor, then you would be more than welcome to stay, but you cannot.”

  Raphael glanced about searchingly. “But... I have survived here well enough with you!” he insisted. “And the boats... they were used by humans before the Wall. Can we not stay?”

  Silas ran his tongue over his lips at his brother’s futile words. The Elitland was home; it was the world to all who lived within it. The prospect of leaving was terrifying – even to Silas, who had been told of what lay outside the mountains. To Raphael, he realised, it was gut-wrenching.

  Merrin looked at him regretfully and shook her head, speaking softly.

  “A handful of nights are a far cry from years. Please understand, Raphael. I cannot allow you to remain. It is not my bitterness; you have helped me to see the end of that. But Delamere is not a place for humans. It is the forest of the Lake, and the Lake rules all here. Asræ are the way we are because we do not fight Her grasp, but humans cannot do this. As dangerous as your departure will be, and as sad I shall be to bid you farewell... it would be much worse for you, and your family, if you did not leave. On either side of the Wall, it is no longer safe for you.”

  At her words, Raphael’s gaze dropped to stare at his feet, and Silas watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. His eyes brimmed with tears. Irima noticed, and moved to stand between them. Hidden from Raphael by her skirts, she slipped her fingers around Silas’.

  “Listen to
me,” she said firmly. “Yer family’s under me Uncle’s protection. I told yer that. N’ that includes you two. Now all this trouble’s gone on an’ all, n’ after helpin’ yer as best we could,” she nodded at Silas; her voice softening, “he’ll probably not be too willin’ to be lettin’ yer go off anyways.

  “So I think I can speak for him now. Yer come on with us. As yer know, Silas, it be near enough time for us to scarper, before the mount’ns turn on us, n’ make it too hard to get through. At the least, we’ll see yer through until we get out o’ them, an’ then it be up to yer all to make yer own way. But safe passage: that much we can give for certain.”

  Relief filled Silas’ heart and an almighty smile broke over his face. He squeezed Irima’s hand gently, and she looked round at him, to meet brown eyes that shone with deeper thanks than he could have ever voiced. In reply, she shot him a silent wink.

  Over her shoulder, Raphael held a hand to his mouth and gazed into the middle distance. Silas knew that he was contemplating a future that no Valley-folk ever faced, and his cheeks paled at the prospect of it. But Silas caught his brother’s eye, and gave him the smallest nod.

  We shall survive, he assured in his head. We have each other. That’s all that matters.

  The sun slipped behind the Western Ridge, and Merrin stepped out of the shadows. She cast her eyes to the sky, the twilight shining off their infinite purple. The sixteen sparkles within glowed brighter than ever. She moved to stand at the very edge of the bank, and Silas watched as a breeze lifted her hair out behind her like a veil.

  She sighed. “It is time.”

  At her words, the glassy Lake shimmered with white light. An Asræ with a green belt looped loosely about his slender hips rose up, and stood on the top of the water. Several more followed, flanking him at his sides, and as they caught sight of Merrin, all bowed deeply. Silas looked on in amazement, and distantly felt Irima’s grasp tighten around him.

  Another Asræ came through – much closer – and immediately walked forward towards them. This one was a woman, and so old that Silas was taken aback with how wrinkled and thin her skin was. She glanced warmly at him, Raphael and Irima – then turned to the Princess with a wide grin, holding out her arms.

  “Merrin,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER XXXI

  The Rise

  M errin’s composed face broke down. She ran from the Bank, flying across the Surface, and threw herself into Dylana’s embrace. The ancient hands fell lightly on her head and shoulders, and her fin waved in soft, rhythmic flourishes.

  “Congratulations, my dear girl,” Dylana murmured. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

  Merrin closed her eyes. There were no words she could manage. Dylana raised her head in the direction of the three humans.

  “You should also be proud,” she said, and Merrin glanced around. “Raphael and Silas Atégo. Whether harshly or gently on your own parts, the two of you have helped to thaw the iciest heart I have ever known. You must know this: what you have done will echo through the ages of this Valley. I have seen it so.”

  Silas and Raphael glanced at one another in astonishment; then Raphael spoke up, his voice quivering with wonder.

  “Who... who art thou?”

  “My name is Dylana,” she replied – and Merrin noticed a spark of recognition flash across his face. Silas remained confounded, but she could tell from the way the shine in his eyes changed that he realised her companion was extremely powerful.

  Her focus shifted to Raphael, and she pushed herself from Dylana. He met her eyes, but before she could speak to him, Dylana’s hand reappeared on her shoulder.

  “Merrin, you must ready yourself for the Coronation.”

  Merrin gritted her teeth, trying not to show frustration at being cut off. “I know what I must do.”

  Dylana nods. “I am aware of that. But you cannot become Queen looking like this.”

  Merrin glanced down at herself. Her gown was dirtied from living rough in Delamere; hair a tangled remnant of the sleek, rippling fineness it once was. Suddenly self-conscious, she tried to smooth the shimmering material down with her hands, and Dylana chuckled tenderly.

  “Face me,” she commanded, turning Merrin towards her without waiting for a response. Knowing what she meant to do, Merrin let her, and closed her eyes softly as magic filled the air.

  The flash of light was so blinding that Raphael had to turn away. Beside him, Silas threw up his hands to shield his eyes. The power pulsed and shone like a star, falling down onto them like dust as light as down.

  When the brightness eventually dimmed, Raphael opened his eyes, and quickly checked that Silas and Irima were unhurt before looking back towards the Lake. At first, all he saw was a dream-like haze of blues, but then he found Dylana again. Merrin stood before her, and slowly turned on the spot to face them once more. Raphael felt his breath catch in his throat.

  The whole of Zandor’s magnificence paled in comparison to her. Her gown seemed to shimmer of its own accord, floating like spider’s silk in the faintest wind. Her long hair was laced with white light as Irima’s was with pearls; in places, twisted and plaited in ways far too elaborate to ever recreate upon a human. And the Bands shone with their own glow, every strand woven about her skin dancing to its own silent symphony.

  “Sweet Lady above!” Irima gasped.

  Merrin cleared her throat. “Do you like it?”

  Raphael suddenly realised his mouth had dropped open, and quickly closed it before shaking his head in amazement. “You look beautiful.”

  Merrin gave him a small smile. Behind her, Dylana beamed.

  “Your people are waiting below, Your Highness,” she whispered.

  Merrin blushed, but she composed herself well and drew herself up regally. The movement and posture was perfect. Of what Raphael had seen of other Asræ, they as a people were faultless in every way: even Merrin, in her cold fury, had held the same icy magnificence as a harsh winter’s frost. But now, she surpassed all that in an instant. It was as though this event, which she had been preparing for her whole life, suddenly came as naturally to her as breathing.

  She nodded to Dylana, and then turned to the first Asræ who had come to the Surface, with the green belt. “Lachlan.”

  “Your Highness,” he replied.

  Merrin sighed, and glanced quickly over her shoulder at Raphael before waving her fin firmly. “Call the Rise.”

  Lachlan nodded, and he and the other Asræ spread out in a great circle around the island with the weeping willow. The whole Lake became infused with white light rising up from the depths. When that started, both Merrin and Dylana quickly moved to the bank and stood a little apart from Silas, Irima and Raphael. The five of them looked on as the moon shone silver rays down onto the water.

  Another Asræ, with shoulder-length hair and a friendly face, came up onto the top of the water, and gazed at Merrin for a moment.

  “Your Highness,” he greeted.

  She smiled. “Penro.”

  Penro faltered, and his eyes sparkled. “You look radiant, Merrin,” he said softly.

  Before she could reply, he turned his back on her and strode gracefully to the island.

  “Asræ!” Lachlan suddenly barked, so loudly that Silas jumped. “Come forth to the Rise of the thirteenth century!”

  Irima suddenly gasped and fell to her knees in awe; for at least three hundred elegant, shimmering bodies stepped though, and the white light spread as their feet stood upon the water.

  As they emerged, a hush settled over Merrin, and she saw her people for the first time; all of them before her on the Surface. Everybody was dressed in a new gown that glittered in silver. Their hair waved around their faces, undeterred by the air.

  The Asræ: jade skin shining with the touch of the Lake; emerald hair twisting and long fin waving silently; great purple eyes sparkling like stars. They were beautiful. Merrin had seen them gathered like this before, of course – but the sixteen Rises prior to this one, the
y were not her people. They were her father’s: Citizens of Zephyr. After tonight, they would be Citizens of Merrin.

  Her heart swelled with pride so great that she felt as though it could bear her into the air. Her beautiful, wonderful Asræ; to behold them like this almost brought a tear to her eye.

  As soon as they had come forth – buzzing with their excitement – they began to dance. None of them turned to Merrin, but she had expected such. Traditionally, the Monarch was the last to reach the Surface, and they allowed for that formality even though she was above already. It was a sight simply wondrous to behold. They all moved in perfect synchronisation; hair and gowns and fins twirling to nothing but the sound of the birds and their own voices.

  Merrin sneaked a glance at the humans. They stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and she knew they had never seen such a spectacle in all their lives. The least she could do to bid them farewell was allow them to witness it – and the Asræ – in all glory and truth.

  The twilight gradually dimmed to the deep blue of true night, and the stars finally revealed themselves, to blink down upon the happenings of Zandor. The whole of Delamere was alive with light; as though diamonds traced the edge of every leaf, and the lines running down the bark of every tree. The amarants transformed from their deep red-purple to a soft pink in the glow.

  The song suddenly changed, and Penro joined in the harmony, throwing a wry glance towards Raphael.

  “Sweet loved-one, I pray thee,

  For one loving speech;

  While I live in this wide world

  None other will I seek.

  With thy love, my sweet beloved,

  My bliss though mightest increase;

  A sweet kiss of thy mouth

  Might be my cure.”

  Raphael blinked in shock, and Silas looked round at him, obviously recognising it. Merrin knew it, too – she had heard it that night when she had run from the cave and left Raphael on his own. She distantly recalled him mentioning to her that he had met Penro. She caught Penro’s eye and gave a small shake of her head, but her lips curled into a smile. He returned it, and then the Asræ voices rose again to repeat the verse. The wind blew through the reeds, and they lifted their own haunting melody into the chorus of music.