Grace of the Light

by Fergal F. Nally

  Bright Feather leaned forwards smiling. Her hands spun a new image in the air, she closed her eyes in concentration.

  Lirana watched spellbound, fear and suspicion darkened her face.

  Followed by disbelief.

  This might just work. She felt a stirring in her heart, a feeling both unfamiliar and welcome.

  Faith had returned to the queen, pierced her armour. Its light seemed to fill the room.

  Chapter 24

  Damnation

  “…the dream will take you to the song and the song will unlock the Twist.”

  Raine was still south, moving away from Morigan’s destruction. Morrigan was a side show, the diversion. The true threat lay north. Ashtoreth would strike the killing blow, sever the heads of the Imperium and the Simulacrum at the same time.

  A master stroke.

  “Should’ve seen it, should’ve known, under my nose the whole time,” Raine muttered distractedly. Her new strength was evident, her legs did not tire, she’d covered miles since leaving Morrigan’s siege on Arta. It still wasn’t fast enough.

  Her inner voice spoke;

  “…the dream will take you to the song and the song will unlock the Twist.”

  “What song? Why do you speak in damned riddles? Why does everyone speak in riddles? Why does no one say what they mean? Why?” Raine ranted, her mind busy with internal dialogue.

  Her head ached, the air felt heavy, the clouds pressed in on her consciousness. The first drop of rain fell, a cold shock on her cheek. She stopped, her mind went blank. Rain suddenly ruptured from the sky in sheets, countless drops beating her skin, sluicing through her hair, she could only see a few feet ahead. Her world contracted, her mind emptied, rain lashed the grass around her. Soon the ground was saturated, pools of water formed at her feet.

  The noise was astounding.

  She let it take her, she let the rain in, closing her eyes.

  She began to see, a pattern. The rain danced around her, giving life, taking life. She saw the pattern, felt its song.

  Her song.

  The song.

  Her mother had named her Raine.

  The night she was born the heavens had opened, the sky had wept… six months of rain in one night.

  “Raine is a good name for my little girl, for she was born of rain, brought into this world on a cascade of rain. It is a sign, my little girl, my little Raine.”

  Raine remembered talking to her mother about her birth night. Now she felt a connection to the rain falling around her, bathing her. This was a rebirth of sorts, the Erthe was reaching out, she felt something open up inside her. The pattern and the sound became clear, she heard the music in the falling rain. She heard the rain’s song and its majesty brought her to her knees.

  She opened her mouth and sang. The melody left her lips and became one with the pools on the ground. At once she was connected to the sky, the Erthe… and an inner power.

  The Twist split, growing inside her, like a seedling it germinated, sending roots into her being, its magic rising in her veins. Her consciousness flooded back, she needed to be at the Parly Fields, she visualised them, focusing her energy on the wish. Pain shot across her shoulders, her joints cracked, her bones buckled, snapping. Her vision changed, she looked down at her arms.

  And saw wings.

  Her mind accepted.

  She saw a bird. It was her, she was the bird.

  A nightingale.

  She did not think, she knew what to so, where to go.

  Raine spread her wings and flew into the sky, she was free, the Twist was free. All she had to do was think it and it would be unleashed. The rain lessened, parting to allow her passage. The sky lightened, land flashed below her, mile after mile. Her energy was boundless.

  “I’m nothing but heart,” the words came to her. She repeated them again and again.

  It felt good.

  Raine’s wings took her over the Farseen Plains, the Bitter Claw Mountains, across the Lake of Bones and the Seemstra Hinterland. The final hours of her journey passed in a haze. Her concentration brought her to the Imperial Capital, Dej.

  She landed on its south wall, a little after morning’s second hour.

  She could feel change in the wind, the Erthe was quickening. The city gates were open. A column of soldiers were marching towards the river valley ahead. So it was then, they were headed to the Swift and Brightwater and the Fields of Parly.

  She was not too late.

  She knew what she had to do. She spread her wings, stretched and took to the air. She flew straight and true, to the clearing where history would be made and death defeated.

  Falinor willing.

  ~

  “I don’t like it,” Shen’sy whispered to his brother. “There’s no one here, the fields are empty, it’s a trap.”

  “Our Lords will be here soon. Simulacrum warriors are not afraid of death. What are you worried about? Is it not enough you and I were given the honour to scout ahead? We’ll complete our circuit of the fields, return to the column and make our report.” Irritation lined Vent’ra’s voice. Shen’sy was cautious to the extreme, which was why they’d been paired. He preferred action, Shen’sy always looked for an angle, the hidden threat.

  Death was death, no matter how you embraced it, fast or slow. Vent’ra decided to follow his impulse, he stood up breaking cover.

  “What are you doing?” Shen’sy hissed. His brother ignored him.

  Shen’sy cursed and hesitated, his training kicked in and he rose to follow Vent’ra into the clearing. Something had been nagging Shen’sy all morning, he realised what it was and turned to gaze at the trees.

  No birdsong, no insects, no breeze, as if the whole area was in a bubble.

  Something was waiting.

  Shen’sy’s unease grew when he turned and saw Vent’ra in the middle of the Parly Fields. He was looking at the ground, hands by his sides. Shen’sy walked towards his brother, eyes darting around, searching for the trap. He saw the Brightwater and Swift merging in the Shoan Rapids, a maelstrom of white water, the only noise in the clearing.

  Except now it was silent.

  His mind felt dull, slow. Why were the rivers silent? Why were the birds and insects silent?

  He clapped his hands; no sound. Alarm swept through him, followed by fear, the clearing was enchanted, they had walked into a spell. Deception was at work here, the kind of deception only a master mage or demon could control. He took another step towards Vent’ra and shouted at his brother to run. His warning fell silent, to the ground.

  Shen’sy reached his brother and touched his shoulder.

  Vent’ra turned round. His face was gone, its flesh vanished, picked clean. Empty sockets stared vacantly at Shen’sy. Vent’ra’s body disintegrated into a pile of ash. Shen’sy backed away looking at the ground where his brother had stood. It was pulsating, a mass of skulls and bones protruded from the soil. Shen’sy ran but something caught his ankle, he stumbled, falling heavily. He looked down, a bony hand was gripping his foot, another pushed through the soil beside him and grabbed his arm, more followed, soon his body was pinned down by a mass of writhing skeletal arms.

  He was numbed and slowed by fear, his screams silent. He felt his body being pulled under, beneath the soil. He closed his eyes allowing the ground to close in around him. Something pierced his skull, followed by a blinding light, his memories, his knowledge, his life drained from him.

  Taken from him.

  Blackness followed.

  ~

  Tuath turned to Ramin. He was feeling stronger with the food and rest. His mind was free, full of questions and half plans.

  “What exactly did she say?”

  Ramin pulled a face. “I told you, she said stay here and wait for her return. She had need of us, will have need of us in the aftermath.”

  “What “aftermath” ? If we stay here and she gets caught, if it all goes wrong, they’ll come for us.”

  Ramin watched Tuath. She had decide
d she would stay with him, their future lay together. She would be banished from the Simulacrum for her defection, she could live with that, her friends and family would be in her heart. Just as Tuath had been freed of his demon so she was freed of her tie to the Simulacrum. A daunting, even frightening thought, but it felt right.

  Tuath fell silent, his head hung low, shoulders hunched. The fire crackled in the grate, the room was warm, smoky. Ramin stood to open the window, she froze.

  “Tuath… we’re not alone.”

  Tuath joined her at the window and peered out.

  A row of men emerged from the trees holding burning torches. The sound of barking dogs filled the night.

  Tuath cursed.

  ~

  Morrigan was a day’s march from the Imperial Capital, Dej.

  The two southern cities had fallen like cards before her shade army. City leaders were executed, as were the old, the weak, the infirm. The young were put to work tearing down temples to Falinor and all the other useless gods these people seemed to worship. New temples to Ashtoreth and Morrigan would be built. A new religion would take over, they were after all the supreme deities, one foot in life and one foot in death.

  A perfect balance.

  She would reach the capital the following morning and complete her task. She was looking forwards to meeting Ashtoreth. Her sister would behead the Simulacrum threat when it met with the Imperial forces at the Parly Fields.

  The Erthe was theirs.

  ~

  Queen Lirana rode ahead with the royal party.

  This night would lay bare their city and her soul. She had ordered the evacuation of the capital. All day citizens had streamed out from the protection of the walls, some calling her mad, others had heard of the fall of the other cities and were eager to flee.

  Most made for the silver mines to the west. There would be shelter, water and food. They could hide and hold out for days, perhaps weeks. Some felt the queen should be leading them, others saw Lirana in her armour riding from the city towards the enemy. Some said she was bringing the fight to Morrigan and her flesh-eating army.

  Lirana turned and saw the city had passed from sight. “Bring the men about Captain. We head for the Parly Fields.”

  “Aye, my queen. Let’s hope the Simulacrum Lords got our message and don’t go barging in there ahead of us.”

  “Our main force should be there in a few hours, they’ll establish the western perimeter. We’ll meet the Simulacrum Lords to the north. Our magic users will join with theirs. Erthe magic and wildfire magic will be joined. We will destroy Ashtoreth, we have to destroy Ashtoreth. There will be no second chance.”

  The Captain nodded and gave the order. The party of riders swung north towards the great forest and the Simulacrum.

  ~

  Ashtoreth lay in wait deep underground.

  She felt the noose tightening, the enemy was approaching from the north and south. She would use the Erthe against the Erthe. It was so simple, they were so simple. They would come with their mages; Erthe magic, wildfire magic. They would throw all they had at her and perversely, it would strengthen her, feed her.

  She could handle anything.

  She lay in the Erthe’s dark, comforting grip. She felt something close to love for the Mother and these people who were trying to protect Her.

  Very soon it would be over. It would all be hers.

  Ashtoreth sent her roots deep into the soil suckling on the Erthe’s bounty. Strength rushed up her arms and legs and into her belly. She felt… wondrous.

  She felt godlike.

  So full of love.

  She would crush them all with her love.

  ~

  Queen Lirana stared into the eyes of the Simulacrum Lord.

  Lord Brael.

  They met north of the Brightwater’s last falls, before its meeting with the Swift.

  “So we are agreed, Lord Brael. You will hold the north perimeter of the fields and position your mages there. They will lay wildfire magic on the clearing where Ashtoreth hides. My forces will hold the southern aspect of the clearing, we will bring Erthe magic up through the ground. Ashtoreth will be caught between the two. She will be destroyed, we will be free of her and Morrigan. Without Ashtoreth, Morrigan will be pulled back into the shade.”

  Brael, his face hidden by fine silk, grunted his assent. “It is as good a plan as any… against this foe. She waits in the clearing, I’ve lost two of my scouts to her. I have my reservations, none of us know what the outcome will be when wildfire meets Erthe magic. True, we used a younger magic against your forces generations ago, but the type we bear now has no resemblance to then, it is a different… beast.”

  Lirana was not intimidated, she was not afraid to die, she had lived amongst powerful men all her life. Her father had taught her to face down an enemy, the only thing men of power understood was strength and violence. They could smell fear. Lirana did not know fear, only fortitude. Her mother had taught her never to forget and to reward loyalty. Her men would lay their lives down for her and the Imperium.

  They would die, she would die… they would all die sometime.

  But not today.

  She wondered what Brael looked like beneath his silks. Simulacrum Lords did not like direct sunlight, something to do with the dark magics they had cultivated. They searched for immortality. She maintained her composure, nodded and pulled away from Brael and his cohorts.

  “Rally the men Captain, to our positions. The reckoning draws near.”

  ~

  “Run or fight?” Ramin asked Tuath.

  There’s ten of them, dogs and Falinor knows what else,” he replied his mind racing. Always keep an eye on the escape, damnation, he had forgotten his own rule. A knock came at the door, they jumped. The door opened, a gaunt face appeared out of the dark corridor.

  “The name’s Brother Arcus, welcome to our house. Bright Feather asked me to leave you in peace until her allies arrived, she has planned for the worst. Morrigan’s shade army is close. If Bright Feather’s mission fails, she plans to fight a rear action against whatever comes. Her men have arrived to take you to a place of safety. She will join you later once events have unfolded.”

  Ramin looked at Tuath.

  “Bright Feather’s given me my life back. I’ll stand with her,” declared Tuath.

  Ramin nodded. “I’m in.”

  Brother Arcus tilted his head. “Come then, I’ll introduce you to Bright Feather’s men. They seem to be in a hurry to get on their way.”

  Tuath and Ramin followed Brother Arcus out of the room and down a long corridor which took them to an enclosed garden. A group of armed men and women stood there, deep in conversation.

  “What of you Brother Arcus? Will you and your brothers come with us?” Tuath asked.

  Brother Arcus looked surprised. “No, no, our order has been here for hundreds of years. If we leave, our faith will wither and die. We must remain and persevere with our work, prayer is stronger than the sword. Have faith my son, we are all part of Falinor’s great plan, follow your path, we will follow ours.”

  Arcus introduced Tuath and Ramin to a swarthy man. He wore the same purple colours as Bright Feather.

  “I am Luthien, these people are Bright Feather’s inner circle, loyal to her cause. We’ll take you and your Simulacrum friend to safety, to await Bright Feather’s return. The fight may not end today.” Luthien held out his hand, Tuath took it and held it for a long moment.

  Tuath looked into Luthien’s eyes and saw no treachery. He nodded. “This is Ramin, no longer of the Simulacrum.”

  They made their farewells to Brother Arcus and joined the group. Luthien signalled at the trees and three men appeared each leading four horses.

  This is how it ends, Tuath thought.

  They were abandoning the capital, to its fate at the hands of Morrigan and Ashtoreth.

  Chapter 25

  Desolation

  Ashtoreth felt the blood rise in her veins.

 
She felt her anger burning deep within.

  They were here, above ground, holding back from the clearing. The widow queen to the south, the Simulacrum Lord to the north. They had made it easy for her.

  A little drama would pique her appetite.

  The earth above her heaved violently. The flayed bodies of the two Simulacrum scouts shot up into the air hanging suspended as if by invisible cords. Moving like puppets they staggered and lurched through the air towards the clearing’s northern side. Ashtoreth knew thousands of eyes were watching her show, she relished the attention. Finally, she tore the bodies apart, limb from limb, joints bursting, muscles tearing. She threw the bloody flesh at the Simulacrum Lord hidden in the trees.

  “Bitch! You dare butcher my people like that? You will taste my wrath and know true pain.” Lord Brael turned to his mages, four slender figures dressed in black, two women, two men.

  Brael nodded. “Unleash hell.”

  The mages stood in a line six feet apart, they advanced to the edge of the clearing and stopped. They closed their eyes turning their faces skyward, their breathing slow and deep, their faces lost in concentration.

  Words flew across their lips joining in the air at the edge of the clearing. Clouds raced across the sky converging on the clearing, the temperature dropped. Thunder detonated above, lightening lit up the clearing. The mages’ words became louder, their chanting filled the Parly Fields.

  Vishi vassa hassa hassa, Visshi vassa hassa hassa. Ser ne na clo hasha hasha…

  Light bled from the clearing leaving a ghostly twilight.

  Brael’s horse took a step back, his men stood firm either side watching the power their mages had unleashed. No one had seen this magic before, to control the weather was unthinkable and yet they were witnessing it. What kind of creature could survive against such force? Victory would be theirs.