by Cait Spivey
What would Guerline tell her subjects: that she must break her first promise to them? There were so many other questions weighing on her. How long would the magic be gone? What if it never came back? In one thousand years, Arido had never been without the power of the witches. Much would change. Desmond had said her rule would be different from her parents’, but he could not have guessed how much.
The column arrived at the edge of the Orchid Vale with the setting of the sun two days later. Guerline gave the order to make camp and spread the word that the next morning, they would bury their dead at the forest’s edge.
Desmond came to her that night, and they held each other and wept for the first time since the battle. She couldn’t say what Desmond wept for. Guerline wept for the dead, and the lost, and for those who remained; but she wept for herself the most. She felt dead and cold inside, though she knew she was still alive, and she didn’t know how to make that feeling go away. Even as she curled against Desmond’s warm, broad chest, she ached with loneliness.
The dawn came with an unusual chill, though Guerline couldn’t determine whether it was the air or her own body. Since magic was lacking, every able body manually dug the great barrow. No one objected to the mass grave, and witches and humans were laid in it side by side. It was dark again by the time they finished. When at last the barrow was built, Jaela and the remaining Gwanen witches stepped forward. They held out their hands. Light shone forth, and a huge silver tree burst from the top of the barrow. Its roots slithered down to the base of it, enveloping it all, while branches shot into the sky high above the other trees of the Vale.
Tears pricked Guerline’s eyes, and she put a hand on her heart as some of the coldness receded from her. She knew that Jaela and Gwanen had just given the remainder of their magic to create this monument. Knowing this place would be marked by such a glorious symbol of life and death comforted her.
“It is a beautiful barrow tree, Jaela-lami. Thank you,” Guerline said.
Jaela only nodded, too choked with sorrow to speak.
They camped one more night under the soft glow of the barrow tree, and in the morning, they set off finally for the city of Del.
Chapter Thirty-Four
There was cheering.
The column entered from the East Gate and was immediately met by a joyous throng. Guerline halted the march and stared in disbelief as people rushed forward, hands outstretched. Laughter and singing rang from the stone walls of the buildings that lined the road. Hands grasped at her horse’s reins and led it forward as the crowd parted, turned, and began to walk toward the palace. One of her guides, a tiny blonde woman with a bandaged head, grinned up at her. Guerline turned to look at Desmond, eyes wide and mouth agape. He looked quite as shocked as she was, and shrugged. She heard her name chanted in the streets in front of her, and soon behind as the soldiers took up the call. Though she left her standard on the battlefield, she saw makeshift flags being raised by the Dellians, her silver starburst crudely sewn onto splotchy purple burlaps and tied to long poles.
Everywhere there were people. Huswifes and children went along the column with food and water. Flowers rained down on them. Guerline saw all this and was overwhelmed. Such a welcome dispelled her worst fears and apprehensions. She held her hands aloft and tears covered her cheeks. This time, her tears were not sorrowful. She smiled and felt the cool breeze on her wet skin, and knew that the darkness had passed. The road ahead was long and fraught with hardship, but at last she had hope.
They were escorted through the streets straight to the palace courtyard. The people lifted Guerline from her horse and set her on the ground. The gates opened and her council of advisers came rushing out, led by Lord Engineer Theodor Warren.
“Guerline! Thank the gods, Guerline!” He ran toward her and fell to his knees. “We knew that you had triumphed when the souls broke free, but we could not know how many had survived. We saw such things; black clouds, and great towers of light—” He looked at her with clear blue eyes. “What a battle it must have been.”
“Yes, such a battle as I should never wish to have again,” Guerline said wearily. “Come, let us go inside. You must tell me how it has gone here, and we will tell you how it was with us.”
So they went into the throne room and the council presented her with all that had passed in the city since she left to muster an army. They had attempted to hold court as usual, but since there were still people holding vigil in the entrance yard, they’d had very few supplicants. Everyone was too scared, too apprehensive, to attend to their daily wants. Refugees from nearby cities flooded in. They came with ashen faces and grievous wounds, and they’d muttered absently that the dead had come alive and attacked them. The councilors deduced that across the country, all of the deceased to whom Thiymen had not come had been reanimated with murderous intent. They tried to arrange for aid to be sent to the other cities, but Del could not be mustered. The whole city had come to a standstill.
Then they saw the column of white light and the gathering black on the fifth day. That day, the wispy blue souls of those who had stayed buried on the palace green erupted from the ground and sped away to the east. For a few hours, there was terror, since no one understood what it meant that the souls had gone away; then the light won out, and the clouds disappeared, and gradually people understood that the horror had passed and that they were safe. After that, they’d prepared eagerly for the return of the empress and her troops.
Guerline listened to all of this with relief. She hadn’t even thought about what would happen in the city, and she was extremely glad to hear that her oversight had not led to any damage. So, with her anxiety quieted, she told her councilors about the battle. Desmond, the witches, and the high commanders filled in where necessary, but it was mostly left to Guerline to tell the tale. They could only guess what had taken place on the old cairn where the seal had been cast.
“There was a general among them, who came to me directly,” she said slowly. She was still unsure whether or not she wanted to speak of her battle with Alcander, but she felt that she must disclose everything, at least to these people. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
“It was my brother, Alcander,” she said finally, and looked sternly around the room. “This part must be left from the public record of the battle at all costs! But it was him, at least in form. He was dead, and missing the arm we discovered.”
“Gods. Guerline,” Desmond said.
He reached out for her hand and she gave it to him, smiling sadly.
“It must have been a devil-cat that took him, not a regular wildcat,” Kanika said. “Some demon used necromancy to give him life again.”
“He was not himself, that much was clear. Whatever inhabited him was not my brother, it had simply assumed his likeness,” Guerline said unconvincingly. In truth, he had been exactly the same: cruel and arrogant, his native traits exacerbated by the power he’d gained. “In any case, I killed him.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Desmond resumed the tale of the battle. Guerline kept her encounter with Ianthe secret, envisioned it as a small thing clasped between her hand and her chest. That had been her chance to stop it, and she had squandered it, and now they were left without magic, without the Kavanaghs . . . weak.
Desmond’s words were indistinct to her, but the rise and fall of his voice lulled her to a calm. At least she still had him.
“There’s still so much to do,” Guerline said quietly, staring out her window. “We’ll have to ride out again, visit the borderlands. The Lord Merchant told me that there is still rioting in the west. We have to deal with that. The damage must be assessed. Aid must be sent out. And . . . what else? I’m forgetting something.”
She glanced back at Theodor. Her chambers were just as she’d left them, that day which felt like an age ago. It felt strange to be back in them, strange to be back to palace life. She had gone away from the only place she’d ever been and come back a completely different person. Everyt
hing here was the same, at least on the surface. But Guerline knew that the carts full of dead energy, the last vestiges of magic, were in the dungeon, waiting to be dealt with. And Evadine was dead.
A small sob escaped Guerline as memories of her friend, pushed away by the battle, flooded back to her. She had missed something. Eva had lied to her. Eva had conspired with enemies of the empire. When had Eva changed? Had it been Guerline’s fault? She couldn’t believe that Eva had truly had any voluntary involvement with the Maravillas or Ianthe. She had so many questions, and the only three people who knew the answers—Eva and the Maravillas—were dead. She would never know the extent or motive of Evadine’s apparent betrayal, but that didn’t stop her from all kinds of wild imaginings.
“So much to do,” she repeated. “And Eva—”
“Oh, Lina,” Theodor said. “Lina, Evadine is gone, and her schemes have ended with her. We must focus on those who are alive and need us. You’re not alone in this,” he said. “Jaela, Tesla, Aalish, and Kanika will return to their strongholds tomorrow. Once the witches are settled, those four will return, and we will find the right path for Arido’s future together.”
“I know,” Guerline said. “I know this. Theodor?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think the magic will ever come back?”
He sighed. “That I do not know. But whether it does or not, I have faith in Arido. And I have faith in you.”
Epilogue
Lisyne waited until after the humans and witches had left before she returned to the battlefield. She treaded slowly through the pass, where the ground was still black and the wind carried ashes from the burnt pile of corpses. She stood still and closed her eyes, breathing deep and feeling the anguish of the earth. There was still the feeling of deadness everywhere.
Though she herself had not lost her magic, she felt the change in the earth’s energy. It felt like the old time, before the humans had gained their magic, before they had even come to this place from across the mountains. Lisyne sat down, raised her nose to the sky, and howled.
She was surprised to receive an answer. It was not quite sound, and yet she heard it with her ears, which pricked forward with interest. It was coming from the place where they’d cast the seal, where she’d lost all her earthly companions. Slowly, she trotted over. Their tower of light had burrowed into the ground, it seemed, and left a great pit. She toed the edge and peered down into the blackness. She could see nothing, so she circled once and changed into a great owl. She flew one circle over the pit and then alighted down into it.
At the bottom there was a great stone slab, and on it rested the thing that had made the noise-which-was-not-noise.
It looked like a human infant, but its eyes were golden like hers, and its ears were pointed. Its skin rippled every now and then like a shapeshifter’s did during a change, and yet it stayed the same. This was not human, but it was not a shapeshifter either. Lisyne sniffed at it, and its noise came to her ears again. This time, it was light and modulated, like laughter. It reached for her with its tiny, five-fingered hands.
Lisyne ruffled her feathers and changed again into a griffin. She gathered the infant in her front claws and clutched it close to her chest, then spread her wings and took flight.
Arido at a Glance
Arido was founded one thousand years ago by the witch Lirona Kavanagh. It is, for the most part, economically isolated, exporting selectively and importing mainly luxuries and foreign novelties, except in times of need which are few and far between. It is culturally isolated as well; though attractive to immigrants, its citizenship process is long and expensive, and its borders well policed. Foreign visitors tend to be only dignitaries or entrepreneurial merchants, who must lobby for years to earn space in Aridan markets. Aridans rarely travel outside the empire, indeed, they barely travel outside their own regions. Loyalty to old clans is fierce, but tends to only flare up when an insult is perceived.
The country has self-arranged into rings. In the center is Del, the capital city, surrounded by smaller “cities” made up of the modest estates of lesser nobles, wealthy merchants, and the villages of those who serve those houses. These cities are collectively called the center cities or, sometimes, the lake cities, since they surround Lake Duveau.
Beyond these cities are the middle plains, also called the valley lands, which is mainly composed of ranches and farms owned by nobles and worked by people who live in villages attached to the nobles’ estate. These nobles are both landlord and overseer, businesspeople who are well-educated. There are some ranches and farms experimenting with a more egalitarian hierarchy than noble-owner and tenant-worker; several in the South have established democratic councils that make decisions regarding the farm together.
There are towns and cities in the middle plains that are not a working part of a noble estate; these have generally grown out of trading centers between estates, and are places where an independent artisan might establish themselves. Olsrec and Seul are two such towns. Less frequent are towns like Larame, insular subsistence communities which are probably the result of people leaving their liege lord’s estate and establishing a permanent camp.
The last ring is the borderlands, where true cities develop again, run by crown-appointed governors rather than landed families, who are beholden to the witch clans, whose leaders are Lords Paramount of the region.
Government
The apex of government is the Emperor or Empress, currently Guerline I of House Hevya. Below the Empress is the imperial council:
Chief Adviser Evadine Malise, who speaks with the Empress’s voice in her absence
Lord Treasurer Pearce Iszolda, manages the kingdom’s currency, expenses and revenue
Lord Justice Shon Marke, commands all guardsmen in the country
Lord Legislator Neren Famm, responsible for drafting new laws and reviewing old ones for relevance
Lord Merchant Lanyic Eoarn, deals with issues of trade and goods distribution and matters of the economy
Lord Engineer Theodor Warren, handles the construction and repair of buildings, bridges, ships, etc.
Lord Historian Jon Wellsly, the loremaster, who keeps the histories and scrolls of the kingdom
Equal to the councilors are the Lords Paramount (referred to by witches as the Heart of the Clan). The Lords Paramount command the witch clans and represent the crown as high arbiter in the borderlands, protecting each region and addressing the needs of the people.
Morgana Kavanagh of Adenen in the west
Olivia Kavanagh of Sitosen in the north
Fiona Kavanagh of Thiymen in the east
Aradia Kavanagh of Gwanen in the south
Below the imperial council and the Lords Paramount are the governors, appointed by the crown in the major cities which exist independent of a noble family. These governors are often the non-heir children of those landed families. These governors may appoint mayors to manage smaller towns or villages orbiting the city; they may also have a staff of officers to assist in city management. Often in small villages without an appointed mayor, the head of the village will use the title “Governor” whether or not they are crown-appointed.
The Guild of Guards (sometimes the Guild of Guardsmen or Guardsmen’s Guild) is trained by Adenen and stationed in densely populated areas. The chief guard of the chief precinct in a city serves as magistrate in conjunction with the governor.
The First Families (Branwyr, Pental, Croy, Masa, and Arden) have no legal power in Aridan government, but are nonetheless very influential. These families not only own the most private land in Arido, encompassing much of the population, but their land and enterprises are crucial to the empire’s existence.
Gender
Children are addressed by the ze/zim/zir pronouns unless or until such time as they claim another set, usually between the ages of five and seven. Most children choose either male or female designations and, if desired, undergo a spell to align them physically with the typical reproductive aspect.
While many children are named at birth, some families allow children to name or re-name themselves when they declare their gender. Lower class families often do not name their children at all, allowing the child to choose their own name.
Education
The first school in Arido was established in 190 YM by Empress Mona Sanier Altec. It was run by Sitosen witches, with some human teachers on staff, and taught human children reading, writing, and more, from the age of five to the age of twelve. There was a fee for those who could afford it, and scholarships for those who could not, awarded at the Empress’s discretion.
In modern times, children attend crown-run and crown-funded schools from the age of five until the age of sixteen. After this point, the children either apprentice to some trade, or are given private tutelage paid for by their parents. Schools are now fully run and staffed by humans, except on the northern border, where Sitosen witches still serve as administrators.
It was once common practice for noble families to secure witch tutors for their graduated children, but this practice has nearly disappeared, in favor of human tutors.
REGARDING WITCHES
According to the Book of Skins, Arido’s dominant religious text, Lisyne the Mother Wolf created the witches to serve and protect her human children. In the early days of Arido, the witches did not all live in their citadels, as is the practice today. Instead, only students and teachers tended to reside at the base, while most fully-fledged witches traveled the country in mixed bands.
This practice ebbed slightly in the lead-up to the Thiymen Rebellion in 64 YM, and following the rebellion Thiymen withdrew completely from the communal bands, choosing to leave their Citadel only to investigate underworld breaches or to oversee the funerals of major chieftains. When Fiona took over Thiymen in 410 YM, she began the practice of having Thiymen witches serve as escorts for dead souls—an unnecessary practice, but one that made the dark witches indispensable to the empire in the eyes of the humans. Today, Thiymen witches stay within the Zaide Mountains except when collecting souls.