Whispers of Heaven (Saga of the Rose Book 1)

by Krista Rose

  “You went to a Temple of Vanae?” Elias leaned forward eagerly. “What was it like? Do the priestesses really-” He caught Kryssa’s gaze, and coughed, leaning back in his seat. “I mean, story. Right. Let’s hear it.”

  Alyxen straightened. “Once, a long time ago-”

  “Wait, it’s not that kind of story, is it?” Kylee demanded. “Because, if it is, I might have to hit you again.”

  He rolled his eyes at her. “No, it’s not.”

  “Alright then. Continue.”

  “Thank you. Once, a long time ago, Diona, the Elder Goddess of the Stars, fell in love with a man named Alistair. In time, they had a daughter, whom they named Erydian. She was bright and beautiful, and she loved her father very much, even though he was mortal.”

  I suddenly knew what had drawn him to this story, and my heart began to ache.

  “Wouldn’t Erydian be mortal, too?” Reyce asked, curious. “I mean, if her father was human-”

  “She was immortali,” Eloise explained quietly. “A child of a God is always immortali. A half-god. Like the Gods, they live forever, unless they choose to give up their immortality. But they have the free will of mortals, and aren’t bound to duty the way that Gods are.”

  “Is that what happened to Erydian?” Reyce looked at Alyxen. “Did she give up her immortality?”

  “Reyce.” Kryssa leveled him with a look.

  He ducked his head. “Sorry.”

  She gestured. “Please continue, Alyxen.”

  He made a face. “What’s the point? He already guessed the ending.”

  “But it’s the middle of stories that’s the most important,” Elias pointed out gently. “Beginnings are slow, and endings are sad because it’s over. But it’s the middle where the heart is.” He nudged Eloise. “Right?”

  She flushed, and looked up at him through her hair.

  “Come on, dear heart,” Kryssa urged, encouraging. “Tell us the rest of the story.”

  “Oh, alright,” he grumbled, but I could sense he was pleased. “Erydian loved her father, but he was mortal, and grew old and weak. She could see how much pain this caused her mother Diona, and so she traveled to the Isle of Eire and looked into the Eternal Flame, and there saw a way to save her father. She had to trap the light of the moon in a jar-”

  “How do you trap moonlight?”

  “Reyce.”

  “Sorry.”

  “She had to capture the light of the moon in a jar, and have her father drink it. She finally did, though it was very difficult, but when she returned home she found her father had died. She had forgotten about time, you see, and had been gone too long.”

  “But-” Reyce began, then caught himself. “Never mind. Sorry.”

  “What?” Alyxen asked with exaggerated patience.

  “How could Erydian bring her father back? I mean, you can’t fix death, right?”

  “No, you can’t.” Alyxen grinned. “But you can bargain with him.”

  Reyce’s mouth dropped open.

  “Erydian traveled through the Gates of the Dead, and there met Death himself. For three days-”

  “Sirius?”

  “No. Sirius is only the God of the Dead. Death is something else.”

  “Primordium,” Eloise murmured.

  “That. Thank you. Anyway, so for three days, Erydian bargained with Death, and in the end they finally struck a deal. Alistair would be allowed to return to Ca’erdylla for a portion of every month, though because he had died he would still have to return to Ca’erlyssa. In exchange, Erydian gave up her immortality, so one day she too would die. Then she took her father back to Ca’erdylla, and gave him the moonlight to drink. Alistair became the god of the moon, and married Diona, making him the first ArchAngel. And that’s why the moon grows dark every month- because Alistair is returning to Ca’erlyssa to fulfill his end of the bargain.”

  “What about Erydian?” Kylee asked, curious despite herself. “What happened to her?”

  He shrugged. “No one told me.”

  “There’s a few different versions,” Eloise offered, then shrank when we all looked at her. “I- I mean-”

  “Relax, dear heart,” Kryssa reassured her, and glanced at me. I bit my lip and carefully drained her anxiety, replacing it with confidence. “We want to hear the end of the story.”

  She straightened a little, though she still kept her eyes downcast. “Well, some of the stories say she became a gypsy, traveling the world and going on adventures. Some say she set sail across the Western Ocean, looking for the Lost Lands. There are even some that say she got married and had children, but they argue whether it was to a peasant or a prince. But all the stories agree that when she died, her mother and father grieved, and all their lights went out, leaving the night in complete darkness. Finally, even Death tried to appease them, and placed Erydian in the night sky as the Winter Star.”

  I sighed, dreamily, and propped my head in my hand. “That’s so lovely.”

  “Yeah. Lovely.” Kylee rolled her eyes, but I could sense the softness in her. “I’m going to check on Nightking, make sure he’s good for the night.”

  “But it’s still early,” Reyce objected.

  “No, it isn’t.” She pointed out the window, toward the darkened sky, then headed for the rear of the apartment.

  “Be careful,” Kryssa called after her.

  She raised a hand, acknowledging, and slipped quietly out the back door.

  I sighed and stood, starting to gather up the dishes.

  Elias laid a hand on my wrist, stopping me. “You cooked. We’ll clean. Right, Eloise?”

  “Um.” She gave him a helpless look. “Right.”

  “But you’re guests.”

  “No, we’re family. It’s better.” He pushed me back into my chair. “Relax.” He pried the bowls from my hands, then dropped a kiss onto my forehead. “There’s a good girl.”

  I settled back as they cleared the table, carrying bowls and spoons into the kitchen to wash in a bucket of soapy water. Reyce pestered Alyxen for more details about Erydian, and Kryssa stared out the window, her eyes lost in thought. Brannyn opened the bottle of wine and poured us each a glass, though I noted that he served himself little.

  I found myself smiling, my heart nearly bursting with happiness. This was what family was supposed to be: support, laughter, friendship. I sent up a silent prayer of gratitude, and sipped my sweet wine, wishing the night would never end.

  17 Driel 578A.F.

  It was for the sake of family that I sought out Garyl Moon the next morning. Kryssa had told me about her disastrous confrontation with him, and, though I gasped appropriately when she told me what was said, I wasn’t truly surprised by it. Our mother had left Fallor twenty years ago. That was a long time to nurse resentment.

  Still, I had no wish to say I hadn’t at least tried to resolve things with our mother’s relatives. I left the apartment alone, and went looking for the house on Tarrow Street.

  Garyl Moon answered the door after my first knock, almost as if he had been expecting it. His face was set in angry lines, his body braced for confrontation- and then he saw me.

  He staggered back from the door, his face deathly white as he grabbed for a wall, shaking as he struggled to keep upright. Shock radiated from him. “A- A- Adelie?” he whispered. “But- but they said you were dead.”

  “Adelie is dead, Grandfather.” I braced myself against his pain. “My name is Lanya. May I come in?”

  He nodded, his hands trembling violently as he gestured toward the kitchen. I walked inside, and he shut the door behind me before following me into the small, pleasant room. Everything in it was spotlessly clean, as if he spent hours chasing every last speck of dust from it. Perhaps he did.

  We sat at his small table, facing each other, and the minutes stretched out between us as he gazed at my face, the heartbreak in his eyes making me want to weep. I was reluctant to speak first. Now that I was here, I no longer knew what to say.

  H
e finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “What is it you want?”

  What did I want, exactly? What had I been hoping to find in this bitter, broken old man? My hands clutched into fists in my lap, and I found myself speaking without any clue of what I was about to say. “I barely remember my mother, your Adelie. I was only four years old when she died. My father used to say I looked like her.” I was almost surprised the words came out without bitterness, and I gazed at him, wanting him to understand. “I remember her laugh, but that’s all I have of her. I know nothing about her, not who she was, or what she was like as a child here in Fallor. I know nothing of her family.” I stared at his blue eyes, so like mine and yet not. “I just want to understand her. I loved her, too.”

  His face was lost as he stared at me, unspeaking. At last, I sighed, and rose from the table. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” I started to leave.

  “She was always headstrong,” he murmured, and I froze in my steps, turning back slowly. His eyes were on his hands, and it seemed he spoke more to himself than to me. “Gentle, too, like her mother, but her stubbornness she got from me. I told her to wait, to marry that Rose boy when she was older. She left.” A tear slid down his cheek. “My little Adelie, always so passionate. She wanted love, dreamed of a prince to save her from her chores.”

  My breath caught as his ragged emotions washed over me, shame and regret and grief.

  He looked up at me, the shadow of a smile crossing his face. “She used to write me letters, you know. Packets of them, about her children and her life and her happiness. I memorized them. She told me of you. Her ‘Golden One’, she called you, full of joy.” The shadow faded, and he shook his head. “I refused to write back. I resented the letters- resented her- because I’d wanted her to be miserable. I’d wanted her to come running home with her tail between her legs, and everything to go back to the way it was before. And then one day, the letters stopped coming. Somehow, I knew- I knew that she- she was-”

  His voice broke, and he began to weep, harsh, wracking sobs that shook his whole body. I walked to him, my own tears streaming down my cheeks, and let him wrap his arms around my waist, stroking his hair gently as he grieved the loss of his beloved Adelie.

  When the tears at last ran dry, he released me, and uncomfortable silence descended between us. He refused to meet my eyes. Garyl Moon was a proud man; that I had seen his pain filled him with shame.

  I quietly promised to return the following Sunsday, and left him alone with his sorrow.

  The late afternoon sunshine was a welcome relief, and I sighed as I walked slowly back to the apartment. I prayed my visit had brought my grandfather some measure of closure, if not peace, and hoped that he would begin to let go of his anger and pain, so that he could at last begin to heal.

  BRANNYN

  18 Driel– 12 Llares 578A.F.

  Spring faded toward summer, the rains finally ceasing as the days grew warm and glorious. Thousands of wildflowers began to bloom, their bright colors startling against the calm, green fields that surrounded the town, the air heavy with their scent.

  If I had not first experienced it in the Camp of the Prince, I might not have believed how easy it was to slip into the routine of life in Fallor. But as the days began to blur and our lives settled, I found myself enjoying it, and wondered if we should stay in the town after all.

  Alyxen gained full-time employment working for the town’s craftsman, who paid him to paint ceramic vases and wooden children’s toys. Over time, he was taken on as an apprentice, and taught to craft the items himself. It was simple enough, especially after my brother’s success with the elevator in the Camp of the Prince, but he took great pride in his work, and came home flushed with happiness each time a parent bought a toy horse or a carved doll for their child. He claimed he was “making the world a better place”, and for once I understood his feelings, for it was how I felt about the Guard.

  Kryssa took work in the library, since she was there every day anyway. It was a small, windowless building on the edge of town, cared for by Eloise’s father, Sennett. He was a frail, elderly man; a former scholar, he had been charged with protecting the collections of old, dusty tomes and dried-out parchments made available to the public by the University of Val Estus. But his eyesight was failing, and he happily agreed to hire on my sister, who spent her days quietly caring for the books and looking after him, the work a blessing to them both- and for me, who still worried about a relapse in her madness, though she showed no symptoms of it.

  Kylee was a mystery, and one I was uncertain I wanted to unravel. It seemed in that time that she never truly worked, and yet she continued to bring in coin every week, tossing it negligently on the table alongside my pay. Her eyes were defiant when I looked at her in question, and I found I couldn’t rise to the challenge in them, so I never asked her about it. I simply prayed that, whatever she did, it was not illegal, and swallowed my curiosity.

  Reyce took work as a baker’s assistant. It was not glamorous work, but it paid well and he had most afternoons off, and so nothing was said when he left well before dawn every morning, sleepy-eyed and yawning. He was still, at that time, technically a child, but he had left childhood behind long before, and though we all sought to shelter him from the realities of life, he wished to contribute.

  We were all given Starsdays off- though I had to request it- and we invited Elias over for dinner again. He cajoled Eloise into joining us, filling our cramped apartment close to bursting. For all his teasing, he was fiercely loyal to us for being family, and was bright and clever without being snide. If he did happen to talk too much… well, at least the things he had to say were interesting.

  “Our great-grandfather was a Knight of Valory.” He leaned back in his chair at our table, and grinned. “Well, he’d be your great-great-grandfather, I guess. Maybe. Anyway, they called him Gavor of the Rose, and he’s probably the most famous person in our family. He was a personal friend to Empress Celestine II, you know.”

  “But… we’re commoners.” Alyxen looked confused. “I thought only lords could become knights.”

  Reyce frowned at him. “If you know that, then why do you keep making me a knight in all your stories?”

  “Um…”

  “Usually, you’d be right, Alyxen,” Elias continued smoothly. “But old Gavor was an exception. He exposed a plot to murder the Empress, by some minor lordling who wanted her whiny little brother to take the throne. She gave Gavor the lordling’s lands. She tried to give him the title, too.” He reached across the table to take Eloise’s hand, playing with her fingers as she flushed. “Gavor despised nobility. He refused the title, but took the land anyway. And the Empress made him a knight.”

  Eloise, despite the redness of her cheeks, managed to straighten in her seat. “Didn’t I read somewhere that Gavor and Celestine were romantically involved? Wasn’t there rumors that their relationship was the real reason he was made a knight?”

  “Daughter of a scholar.” Elias grinned in delight, and kissed her fingertips, leaving her speechless and staring. “There was a rumor, but it wasn’t true. Gavor was famous for his defense of the Empress’ honor, but he was incredibly in love with one of her maids, Victoire. He married her, and the family swears he was loyal to her till the day he died. We have a pile of letters between them as proof.”

  Lanya sighed. “That’s so lovely.”

  Alyxen rolled his eyes. “Romance is stupid.”

  That set off their normal bickering, and Reyce and Kylee chimed in, taking sides in the argument. I ignored them, watching Elias and Eloise. There was a growing gentleness between them, a solitude that separated them from the rest of us. It made me think of Marla, or perhaps how it should have been with Marla. I finally looked away, my heart aching, only to see Kryssa staring at them with the same longing expression. I remembered the name Vitric, and wondered again what ghosts my sister held trapped within her skin, what she had sacrificed to keep us safe.

  The Gods sure
ly asked too much of us.

  The argument escalated to a shouting match, Lanya and Alyxen’s voices ringing from the walls. Kryssa merely glanced at them, brow raised as the rest of us winced, and raised a hand. “Enough.”

  They fell silent, though they continued to glare at each other.

  “I wish I could do that,” Elias said wistfully, propping his head in his hand. A smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “It would make drills so much simpler.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.” Kryssa glanced at me, then met his gaze. “Brannyn tells me you’re the best swordsman in Fallor.”

  “Well, I try,” he said modestly.

  “Would you teach me?”

  He looked at her curiously. “You want to learn swordplay? Why?”

  She shrugged. “I want to be able to protect my family.”

  He nodded, accepting her answer. “I’ll come early next Starsday, and bring some practice swords.”

  “Thank you.”

  The week passed, slow and quiet, and Starsday returned. The day was calm and beautiful, the early summer breeze warm on our backs as Elias took Kryssa into the alley behind our apartment to practice. I sat on the steps, watching as he patiently explained how to grip the blade, how to protect her face and block an incoming attack.

  I had thought at first that he only meant to patronize her, that his offer was an excuse to spend more time with Eloise, who hovered beside me, her eyes wide and inquiring. But as I watched him gently correct her mistakes, explaining the footwork and sword positions over and over again until she understood, I realized that he genuinely cared, and it was yet another part of him that I admired.

  He was, quite simply, the best person I had ever known, and I was proud to call him family.

  Baedon, by contrast, was not family, and as the days passed I found myself more and more grateful for that fact. He was whiny, egotistical, and complained constantly. Nothing was ever good enough for him; though he had begged to be placed back on night watch, he spent the majority of our time on duty griping about the hours and the work, grumbling that he would rather be in his bed. I found him insufferable, and when he turned his sharp tongue on me, it took all the self-control I could muster not to fry him where he stood. Thankfully, he was too self-absorbed to notice the smoke rising from beneath my uniform, or I might have been found out.