by TL Rese
She leapt from the creature in an easy motion. She was younger and there was a pallor to her that would have stood out on the streets of Berkeley. But here she appeared natural in her surroundings. The pallor was mostly in her skin, almost as white as Satinah’s, but her hair was a long dark shine. Her eyes were gently tapered, hued with a silver-grey I hadn’t seen before, like those of the beast she rode on. She wore a white suit of mail interwoven with cloth and leather; on the front was the Kyrion emblem – the eira rising in flames within a circle of gold.
“Ryloha!” Cerhared came towards her with his arms outstretched in welcome. “You are very late, but at least you are here. Didn’t I tell you –” He caught sight of the creature. “Didn’t I tell you not to ride bareback!” he finished, though it was clearly not what he’d originally intended to say.
Satinah’s cool voice interceded, “Father, my sister must be tired from her journey and our meeting is nearly done. Let us adjourn and continue tomorrow.”
“Yes,” Cerhared said. “Councilors, if you please.” He gestured to the doors. The councilors hooded themselves in unison, the metallic rustle filling the hall. They filed out, their mantles whispering around their feet as they wove through the pillars. They disappeared out the door, as a line of silver thread through white fabric.
When the councilors had gone, the king turned to Audrey. “Ryloha, I appreciate your coming. However, perhaps you are doing too much, this back and forth, back and forth.” He looked worried. The breath of his words ruffled his long moustache.
“Not to worry, Papa.” She took her father by the arm as they walked. “I would not tire myself to death. Besides, you were right. It would be useful to have me present at the next councilor’s meeting.”
As they departed the hall, I looked back and saw the window had been left open, its glass panes folding out into the darkening sky. The white beast was perched on the ledge, its wings wrapped around itself like a cloak. The pillars of the hall were reflected in the windows, making the chamber seem larger than it was, as though it extended out into the night.
We walked down a twisting glass stairway. Through the crystal staircase, I gazed outside beyond the castle spires to the city that stretched in a glitter of lights, like broken glass. Along the horizon, the last breaths of day showed in a crimson line dividing the shadows of the land from the darkness of the sky, a farewell said with bloody light.
Though the stairs continued to spiral down, we exited into a hallway. Statues lined the walls between the windows; I recognized the statue of the beast I’d seen in the city, but he was bent over the girl instead of dangling her, and half of her body was unformed in a mass of crystal.
The voices of Audrey and her family echoed, and I realized they were parting.
“Get some rest,” Cerhared was saying to Audrey.
“As you wish, Papa.”
“I will see my girls in the morning.” With a tired smile, he walked down the hall.
Satinah lit a light cupped in her hand, a white candleflame blooming from her palm – a bare flame, without wax or candle, flickering softly. It lit her features into an angelic glow, and she appeared unearthly.
She held the light before her as we ascended through another stairwell, arriving at a chamber. It seemed a miniature of the meeting hall with its circular wall of oval windows. Except here the chamber was a bedroom, furnished sparsely with a bed curtained in translucent silks. Satinah threw the white flame into an opening in the floor, where it burst into a fire. The flames made a whispering sound, instead of the warm crackle I was used to. Bathed in the fire’s glow, Satinah seemed to stand in moonlight.
From behind the bed curtains, I heard Audrey’s muffled voice, sounding sleepy, “Where’s Hallain?”
Satinah sighed. “I don’t know.”
Audrey made an immature pouting noise from beneath her pillow. “Ask a server to go find him.”
“By the time he’s found, you’ll be asleep, as you should be soon. You need to wake early. I’ll send a server up with your dinner.”
A grunt came from the bed. Satinah apparently took that as consent for she walked out of the doors.
For a long time, Audrey lay motionless. I thought she’d fallen asleep but she stirred and sat up, rubbing her head as she yawned. She gazed out of the tall glass panes before she made her way over and began to pull a curtain across the windows. The circle of chamber windows was halfway hidden behind the curtains when she stopped, staring out the glass.
I stood behind her. Outside, a waterfall poured across one of the spires, running over a staircase before cascading into the darkness below. Although I could see nothing unusual, Audrey’s gaze was intent. She opened the window and stepped out. She stood outside as though she were floating on air, a breeze moving her hair. Surprised, I leaned over. She was standing on a glass balcony that curved along the outside wall, embracing the exterior of the circular chamber in a ring. But no railing lined the balcony; the glass floor simply extended into the night.
Cautiously, I moved to stand beside Audrey. Beneath me, through the glass, the ground fell endlessly away, the castle lights glittering small and distant. Audrey was standing at the edge of the balcony, so close I was afraid she’d fall. And then she leapt from the glass into the darkness below.
“Audrey!” I bent to look down before I was pulled from the balcony, plummeting after her, the castle spires hurtling towards us with horrifying speed.
Audrey landed in a crouch on the roof of a tower. I felt myself thrown on top of her. In the next instant, she was running across the roof, past arrays of spires. She leapt again, falling freely until she came down lightly on the roof of a staircase below.
A waterfall coursed across this glass tower, descending over the roof of the stairs. We slid down the roof through the flowing waters, curving around the tower at a tremendous speed. The water drenched Audrey’s legs as she slid along the glass on her feet. She leapt onto the top of a hallway, sprinting across its arched roof before making a spectacular leap onto a wall. From the wall, she jumped down to the ground.
She straightened and walked towards a young man within a garden enclosure. He was sitting on a few steps in the grass. When he saw her, he was visibly shocked. “Rylo!”
“Hallain, brother.” She swept down and sat beside him.
Hastily, he tucked a parchment down his shirt. He wore a cloak with a hood that shaded his eyes. He pushed the hood back, exposing silver-white hair, short and tousled. His skin was a pallor like Satinah’s and his eyes a dark blue. He had his older sister’s beauty in a masculine form, but his features held a kindness around the eyes, gentle in the moonlight. “You’re back! Are you going to be here long?”
“Not really,” Audrey replied. Her fingers played with a slender braid in her hair, intricately twined; she wore her white beaded necklace twisted into her braid. She looked at the garden, the silhouettes of trees standing out in shafts of starlight. Silver flowers bloomed in the shadows, and above, dark birds flew towards the stars.
Audrey’s eyes were on the birds as she said, “Still in touch with the enemy, brother?”
“They are not the enemy. We are invading their land.”
“Hallain, you’re young –”
“When you go off to war, Rylo, you help to destroy a nation.”
I thought I saw Audrey’s eyes fill with anger, and then it was gone. Her face was impassive when she replied, “We need to feed our own people.”
In the silence, there was something in their features that pained me to look at. It was Hallain who whispered, “You know nothing of Moreina.”
“And you know nothing of war, little brother.”
Hallain made no reply. Behind him, the steps rose into a walkway. A shallow stream ran across it, trickling down the steps. His fingers trailed unconsciously in the waters. At last, he said, “No matter how many Sallahri starve, Alhallra will still stand. But Moreina will become nothing.”
“Send you to Moreina to study and this is what happens.
”
“Sister, all the world would lose should Moreina die.”
“I risk my life in war and my own brother does not support me.”
“I support you, sister. Just not your cause.”
“Such a romantic, brother. You should be a bard.”
“Rylo, you don’t understand. You’ve only seen Moreina in the sickness of war. You’ve never seen the richness of its cities, tasted the bounty of its food. To be in the beauty of Moreina would turn even the coldest heart to warmth.”
“You speak of Moreina’s beauty as though she were a woman. I think my brother needs a girlfriend.”
Hallain’s face fell almost comically. “You mock me too severely.”
Audrey indulged in a laugh. “Hallain, I didn’t come here to speak of politics.” She glanced over Hallain’s cloak. “Where are you going?”
Hallain shifted. “To Jesath’s. I’ve taken an interest in his keys. I’ve arranged for him to show them to me tonight.”
“Philosophy!” Audrey exclaimed. “Since when has my brother been a philosopher?”
Hallain turned away. “For a while.” There was a hint of emotion that strangled his speech. He stopped to hold it back.
“Hallain,” her voice was a dangerous sound.
“Don’t ask. For too long I have been at odds with my family. I don’t want us to fight now, Rylo.”
“Tell me. You’ve always told me everything, Hallain.”
“These aren’t the simple troubles of childhood anymore.” Regret lingered in his words. He reached into his cloak and took out a tiny reed, blowing into it and making it whistle. His hair fell over his eyes in an amiable manner, but he seemed sad, saying, “I’m glad you’ve come today. I had not expected to see you.”
When Audrey replied, it seemed of some other matter. “I hear it coming to your call.”
They studied each other in the pale light. The stream made the only sound before the bushes stirred and Hallain rose to his feet.
A great bird with magnificent plumage stepped from the foliage into the moonlight. Its slender neck was curved. Like a peacock, it was brightly plumed, lavish feathers adorning its head in a crown. A shorter plumage covered its long legs, feathering over the claws of its feet. Its emerald eyes gazed down at Hallain as though he were a lesser being. Seeing the creature, I knew what it was. It was the Kyrion emblem I had seen woven into Audrey’s mail and engraved in the sheath of her sword. It was an eira.
Hallain took the eira’s reins and hoisted himself onto the creature, pulling his hood over his white hair. From beneath his hood, he looked at his sister sitting on the steps. “So good to see you tonight,” he said. “Goodbye.” He placed the reed between his lips. There was a pause. Then he turned the eira around. His whistle called out and the eira broke into a swift pace, running into the darkness.
Chapter 12