Illera's Darkliete: A Coming of Age Fantasy

by Gail Gernat

  Illera caught her tears and forced them aside. She must be strong for Ashera was going to be restored to them and she had to make amends with the giantess. The door swung open, and Illera turned. Two children stood there; a raven-haired girl and a golden boy, both about twelve years old.

  “Please Princess, would you come with me,” piped the girl, “and bring the other lady too?”

  “And the priestess asked me to escort you,” the boy said indicating Lark and Raven.

  Illera tugged on Ashera’s arm until the woman rose and followed her. Lark and Raven disappeared down another stairway, and she felt a pang of anxiety at their disappearance. Trouble had appeared from every corner, and she felt vulnerable and exposed without their protection. The child led her to a dark room at the bow of the ship. The girl closed the door behind them and lit seven thick blue candles. A sweet scent pervaded the room. The child whipped the cover from a pair of deep tubs filled with steaming water. Flower petals floated on the surface of the water.

  “They asked that you bathe and be clean for the healing. It is easier to heal with a clean body. Then the mind wishes to be in harmony.” The girl spoke as though reciting from a manual. “When both of you are clean, princess you are to drink this. It is for protection, but the other lady, the sick one, can’t have any. Her mind needs to be open. And here are the garments for the ceremony. The sick lady is to wear the yellow.”

  The girl nodded to a murky corner of the triangular shaped room. There was a wooden table bolted to the floor and on it a copper pitcher. A tall, cut-crystal glass was anchored beside it with straps. Beside the pitcher were two long silk robes, one a clear blue and the other yellow. Thick white towels and washing cloths were folded over the robes. The girl turned and left them to their bath.

  Illera stripped Ashera and coerced her into one of the tubs. Once there she seemed to know what to do. Gratefully, Illera left her to her scrubbing and attended to her own. Ashera needed help to dry and dress herself. Illera did that service for her, giggling a little at the thought of her father seeing her performing the service for Ashera that was the blonde’s responsibility. When they were ready, Illera drank a glass of the water from the copper pitcher. It was cool and faintly sweet with a lingering hint of peaches. She wished for more, but was told a single glass, so she restrained herself and opened the door. The child was waiting, with a wide-appealing smile, and led them down the corridor to another room.

  This chamber glowed with light from a hanging glass chandelier sporting a myriad of candles. The light fractured and danced in splinters around the large room. A ledge of gold, glowing in the wonderful light wainscoted the dark and light striped wooden walls. The patterned walls were something Illera had never seen before, and she thought the effect was striking. The ledge was the only furniture in the room. On the striped wooden floor was a round carpet, woven in shades of clear yellow and intense bright blue. She thought it might be the same form of writing she had observed on the backs of the books, in the other room. She could not read what it said, but admired the intricate pattern it made and how the colors wove in and out of each other. It was almost hypnotic. She shook herself and looked away. The two children she had seen earlier were present, and two others, another boy, and girl of about fifteen, joined them. The girl in this pairing was palest blonde and the boy night dark. The four children knelt in a square around the carpet, but not touching it. The priestesses arrived. The blonde was dressed in a robe of rich, clear yellow silk embroidered around the hem with more of the writing in blue. The dark-haired woman was dressed in the same bright blue color Illera wore, but with yellow embroidery around the hem. Raven and Lark followed them also dressed in silk robes of blue and yellow.

  “We have a balance,” began the dark-haired priestess.

  “Except for you,” continued her counterpart.

  “In the Darkliete,”

  “all must balance,”

  “and yet we need a balance,”

  “for Ashera.”

  Illera swallowed. Hesitant and unsure she asked, “I don’t know what you mean?”

  The blonde priestess turned around the circle, pointing, “Dark, light, dark, light, dark, light, light.”

  “But you are neither; you partake of both dark and light.”

  “We cannot polarize the circle,” the priestess light continued.

  “Do you want me to leave?” Illera wished that would be the answer.

  The dark priestess smiled. “No, we want you to anchor the circle. To stand at the center.”

  “and allow the power to flow through you and around you. To be”

  “the nexus.”

  Illera could see Raven and Lark getting ready to protest. She nodded. If she could help Ashera, she owed her that. If she had not abandoned her at Dragon’s Lair, her mind would still be whole and sound. The priestess dark moved her to the exact center of the circle. The acolytes on the outer edge shifted as she moved Lark and Raven into a kneeling position with them. Ashera knelt at Illera’s feet facing outward, fear beginning to build in her wide blue eyes.

  The candles blew out with a suddenness that made Illera jump. The room was steeped in darkness. She could feel it stealing into her very bones. The priestess dark and the priestess light began to sing; a melody without words in two-part harmony, a familiar, yet strange song to Illera. The sound wound around them in the darkness. Illera could feel her heart beating in the rhythm of the song. A pure blue flame flared into life around her. Her feet rose from the floor. She recognized the feelings of euphoria and serenity it brought. She glowed with the blue fire of the swamp, it reflected back to her from the eyes of the kneeling children, Raven, and Lark on the outside of the circle. The priestesses circled around in front of her, their hands joining together making shapes that reminded Illera of the shape of the flame, flickering around her. The priestess light knelt before Ashera, placing her hands over the giantess’ shoulders. She stared into the broken woman’s eyes. The priestess dark stood behind her. Her hands reached out to Illera, drawing some of the blue fire to them. Illera extended her hands. The flame flowed from Illera to the priestess dark down her body to the priestess light, up her arms, and to Ashera, enclosing her head in a brilliant blue aura.

  Time seemed to stand still at the same time it was speeding by faster than thought. It was a strange and disorienting feeling, but it was buried deep, deep beneath the feeling of joy and peace the blue light brought. She knew time passed, but it was without meaning. Her mind strained against the fabric of her being. Memories rose, parading through her thoughts as she flashed back and forth through her life and the experiences she lived. Faces and animals long forgotten, all viewed with a sense of detachment as if she were not herself, but a voyeur rummaging through her life. The world spun and tottered, held together by the color of the fire.

  Ashera slumped back against her legs, pushing her from the center of the carpet. Illera fought to hold her position. The sound of a gong shivered through the air, and the fire disappeared in an instant. Illera stumbled as her feet touched the floor, tumbling backward to land on her bottom, Ashera pinning her legs with her greater weight. The priestesses hurried from the room.

  The acolytes clustered around, holding pails of warm water. They washed her from head to toe, stripping away the silk gown, insensitive of her modesty. Illera was appalled under the weariness that engulfed her. One of the girls wrapped a warm and furry sheet around her. The next thing she knew she was lifted into the air and carried to another room. She managed to crack her eyes open enough to peer into Lark’s disturbed and troubled face. She was asleep before her head touched the pillow on the narrow bunk.

  The buzz of conversation woke her. The effects of the fire seemed much less this time, and she felt refreshed and alive. She stretched long in the warm bed.

  “Well, look who’s finally back with us.” Raven laughed.

  “You’ve slept for two days Illera,” complained Lark.

  Ashera sprang up from her cha
ir. “And I have so much to tell you.”

  Illera sat up, catching the covers as they slipped, almost revealing her embarrassing state of undress. She squirmed, remembering the day or was it two days before.

  Lark and Raven stood. Raven attempted to imitate a trumpet. Lark moved his hand in a grand flourish.

  “May I present,” he announced, “the princess Ashera, daughter of Uggarick of Carnuvon, long lost and much searched for, now found.”

  Illera shook her head unable to grasp what the squires were saying.

  “What?” she said inelegantly.

  Raven laughed aloud. “Let the poor woman have some breakfast, Lark, before you go rearranging the world on her.”

  He strode to the door and ordered food for the princess, and returned, sitting on the edge of her bed. He took her hand in his own.

  “I’m sorry Illera, but nothing is as it once was. Everything has changed. Do you remember Ashera’s story?”

  “She was the daughter of a Sorwelk trader?”

  Lark continued the explanation. “That’s what her mother told her to protect her. She was actually the only daughter of Uggarick, the King of Carnuvon. That’s why the pirates have been attacking Madean for so long, they thought you had kidnapped Ashera, and they have been looking for her for twenty-two years. Ashera is a royal princess.”

  Illera laughed. “I’m so happy for you, but what of…of the other ….you know, with Torul…”

  Ashera smiled. “It wasn’t your fault my Lady, I mean Illera. I was stubborn, and I knew that you wanted me to stay with you, so I rebelled. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, but everything is distant now, like a very bad dream, not even one that happened to me, just something I heard. But I am sorry I was so foolish.”

  “And I’m so sorry I left you there. That was the worst thing I could have done. I didn’t know Korul and Torul were like that, or I would have found some way to get you out. I feel so, so horrible about the whole thing. I...”

  “Don’t punish yourself Illera. It wasn’t your fault. But you should listen to the rest of the news.”

  “What news,” she asked, looking around smiling.

  The door opened, and the two priestesses walked in, the priestess light carrying a tray. She deposited it on Illera’s lap. Lifting the cover, Illera could smell fresh scrambled eggs and warm toast dripping with butter. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled.

  Lark laughed. “Go ahead. You’re several days behind us. We’ll talk, you eat.”

  He turned a glowing smile on the priestess and took her hand. They sat arm in arm at the table. Illera felt a pang, for if Lark were leaving her who would help fight Korul when he attacked Madean. The priestess dark sat down on her bed beside Raven nudging him over with her hip. He put his arm around her shoulders. Illera felt another shaft of fear impaling her heart, and the eggs lost their flavor.

  “My name is Rejoicing, and I am the priestess dark,” the woman began.

  Illera forced her face to keep smiling, but inside her stomach clenched and she was getting knots in her back.

  “My name is special, and I tell it only to family.”

  “I am not your family…” Illera’s voice sounded high and nervous.

  The priestess dark smiled. “You are half-elven, and your vanderjar has solidified your werwinstans, and that confuses you.”

  Illera shook her head. “I understood maybe half your words.”

  Rejoicing laughed. “My sister and I were captured twenty-six years ago by Korul and forced to be his concubines. It was the gravest insult to our nation and our calling. We chose the Darkliete when we were children and trained for it our whole lives. Then that pond scum, Korul, invaded our country, just as we achieved the peak of our powers and captured us. When our children were born, one month apart, Korul arranged a marriage with a princess from the far land, and she insisted that we be driven out. He said he was going to dash our children, our sons, to pieces on the rocks after he drove us to the boat he had called from Sorwelk. We believed him for he is the king of evil. But Raven and Lark are those sons.”

  Stunned, Illera stared with her mouth hanging open. Then she laughed, with a sound that bubbled up and burst from her mouth with astounding joy.

  “Their mother told me she wasn’t their mother and that Korul was their father, but she swore me to secrecy. But neither of you seem old enough to be the mothers of men their age.”

  Rejoicing laughed. “In the Darkliete, people age differently. I am a lot older than you might expect.”

  The priestess light moved forward. “I am Laughter and Lark’s mother.”

  “And I am most honored to meet you.” Illera was unable to keep the wide grin from her face. “Where do we go from here?”

  Raven jumped from the bed and continued pacing. “My mother tells me that you are half-elven.”

  Illera nodded.

  “Elves left here long ago, going to another home somewhere else. But your mother visited here in her vanderjar. That’s when a young elf leaves home and travels around. That solidifies a sense that elves have and that humans don’t; the werwinstans or we might call it the land sense. That’s why elves always return to the places where they were born. It is just too painful to stay away, it irritates the werwinstans. That’s why your mother had to leave. She loved you and your father, but she couldn’t stay away from home forever. She had to return. I know how much you needed to know that.”

  Slow tears leaked from Illera’s eyes. She still missed her mother but she also missed Madean fiercely, and if this was what her mother felt, then she could understand why she had to leave her year old child and return home. It was a great gift this understanding. She opened her eyes and stared at the watery figures of Lark, Raven, Ashera, Laughter, and Rejoicing and said in a small voice, “Thank you.”

  Chapter 9

  The ship bucked and heaved through the water. The waves marched in steady succession beneath the stern as it rose and lowered; water caressing down the length of the vessel. The stern and prow did not seem to catch the same rhythm and as soon as one rose the other sank and vice versa. Illera gritted her teeth and braced her feet wide apart as she struggled to groom Copper, who had no problem accommodating the motion of the boat.

  “I guess I need four legs too.” She stroked the brush over the hard muscled shoulders as the waves tossed her against the glossy chestnut coat for the hundredth time.

  She threw her arms around the mare’s neck and hung on to her quiet strength. It could be worse; she could be like Ashera, confined to her bunk, unable to eat or move about. It just seemed that she could not catch the pattern of the sea and so, was tossed from port to starboard, bow to stern. A plethora of bruises on her shins and buttocks bore testimony to her inability to maintain her footing.

  She picked up a hoof and began to clean the frog. The ship heaved, and she landed on her aching backside again. Copper blew a warm breath down her neck. Lark came whistling into the enclosure, stopping and grinning as he saw her scrambling back to her feet.

  “Still having trouble?” He gave her a jaunty grin.

  She shook her head. “Just a little. Don’t know how you guys do it.”

  Lark laughed aloud. “Just in the bloodline. By the way, Rejoicing wanted me to ask you if you have time to talk. I’ll finish with the horses if you want.”

  “Thanks,” Illera said, striking her clothes to remove as much straw and dust as possible. “Where is she?”

  “Starboard side, at the bow.”

  Illera nodded and left the small shelter. The wind caught her cloak and loose hair twisting them around her body, binding and blinding her. She unsnarled herself with a sigh and headed towards the beautiful woman looking over the railing. She too placed her hands on the rail and stared out over the gray and whitecapped water. The wind was driving low dark clouds before it, and the entire world seemed to be composed of shades of gray.

  “It is a depressing day.” Illera watched the waves dance past.

  The prie
stess dark smiled without turning her head. “The dark is as important as the light.”

  “Of course,” replied Illera uncertainly.

  Rejoicing smiled. “In the Darkliete all involves balance. Night needs day. Male needs female. Good needs evil. Happiness requires sorrow. Life requires death.”

  Illera thought for a moment. “I’m sorry Lady, but I can’t agree. For me, to say that happiness requires sorrow doesn’t feel right. I don’t have to feel pain to know I prefer feeling well. I don’t have to be miserable to know I prefer to be full of joy. I don’t want to disparage your beliefs, but I cannot hold them myself.”

  Rejoicing gave a ghost of a laugh. “It has ever been thus with elves. I thought being half human; you would see it our way.”

  “What do you mean, with elves?”

  “The elven are a different species. Just as a wild lion is a different creature from a cat kept in the barn to hunt mice. They live at a different rhythm and see through different eyes. I am surprised that your mother loved your father enough to bear him a child. That is most unusual.”

  “I don’t know anything about my mother’s people, but Elves don’t look much different from humans.”

  Rejoicing turned to face her. “No, most of the differences are on the inside. Elves find it hard to interact with people, human people. That is why it seems that when humans move into an area, the elven move away, slowly and gradually, taking hundreds of years; no doubt because of the werwinstans; but they go. My own theory is that the physical congruencies exacerbate the mental disparities.”

  “Ah…yes?”

  The priestess laughed, a high tinkling sound. “I merely mean that we look a lot alike but think so differently.”

  Illera pondered, wondering if she thought differently from others.

  The priestess continued, “And now you are wondering how I think and how other humans think compared to you?”

  Illera nodded, surprised that the other woman could read her mind.