by Jeff Wheeler
The Seneschal patted her hand. “The bounds are set. The waters cannot pass. Despite their fury, despite their power, they will yield to the will imposed against them. Watch the stones in the water. Did you feel them last time? Those rocks in the waters have sigils carved into them. Faces. They will repel the waters.”
Phae shuddered as she watched the furious waves reach the guardians of stone. She could feel power coming from those stones and they broke the charge again, as she had witnessed before. The children still played, oblivious.
“I am the Seneschal of Mirrowen,” he said, turning to face her. “My duty is to protect the mortal world from destruction. If Mirrowen did not exist, the waves you saw would come crashing into your world. We keep them at bay. I mentioned there is a force that makes things decay. There is another force at work too, Phae. One even more powerful. It is called by many names too. But its essence organizes and brings order to chaos. If those children stopped working, the castle they built would succumb to the Deep. If they halted their efforts, it would wash away in no time at all. Remember the derelict homestead you found in Stonehollow? Where you both were attacked by the spirit creature?”
“Yes,” Phae answered, the memory vivid in her mind. “It felt like it was a spirit creature.”
“It was. I sent it.”
She looked at him in shock. “You did?”
“Don’t you remember all of the creatures that tried to get your attention? You were so afraid that you could not hear the whispers from Mirrowen. I was with you the whole time. I’m always with you, Phae. I can be everywhere. I follow each person’s life. I know them by name. I’ve ordered things to achieve the outcome I desire.”
Phae shook her head, confused. “You sent that spirit creature to its death?”
“Death is part of the fallen nature of your world, Phae. Of course it would naturally die going there. But Phae . . . I have the power to restore life again. I can reverse death. The Vaettir call it keramat. I am the source of that power through these keys I wear, the Voided Keys. They hold dominion over the Deep. There must be suffering in your world. It serves a purpose, Phae. Your struggles prepare you for greater things. I’ve looked forward to you coming to Mirrowen. You endured what you were meant to in your world. You can leave the mortal coil forever. Being bound to a Dryad tree makes you part of the essence of Mirrowen. You preserve wisdom and knowledge. A Dryad cannot die nor can she be killed. When your season is finished, you will be freed from the bond, free to travel to other worlds. Freedom beyond anything you can yet imagine.”
Phae’s heart pounded with excitement. “How does this work? I was told, by Neodesha, that there was a tree. There was fruit from that tree.”
“Yes. The tree is in the city, over there. Do you see the river that you were near when your mother found you?” He pointed along the beach toward the overgrown area where Phae had emerged. “Follow the river with your eyes and you’ll see it leads to the heart of the city. There is a tree there. The river comes from the tree. There are twelve different fruits growing from the branches, each fruit granting a different power. One of those fruit will make you like me.”
“Immortal?” Phae asked.
He shook his head. “That is not what we call ourselves. We are the Unwearying Ones. We do not tire, nor thirst, nor grow fatigued. Our combined will keeps the Decay away from your world. Our thoughts hold it at bay. The thoughts of mortals in your world attract the Decay. Thankfully, our thoughts are higher than your thoughts. Our ways are higher than your ways. I invite you to become one of us, Phae. To become an Unwearying One yourself.”
Phae’s heart leapt at the thought, her eyes blinking in wonder. “Like Shion!” she gasped, understanding flooding her. “It’s not the Arch-Rike’s magic at all that protects him. He is part of this, isn’t he? I know he is!” She thrilled at the thought, beginning to see and understand, and it was all jumbling together in her mind.
“Yes,” the Seneschal replied. “Only he has forgotten who he is.”
“Will you tell me?” she said, taking his hands and looking at him pleadingly. “I promised I would help restore his memories, if I could.”
The Seneschal clasped one of his hands atop hers. “It depends, child, entirely on you. Would you know his history? Would you free his memories if you could?”
Phae nodded vigorously. “I would. Must I swear an oath first? Is it possible to stop the Plagues? By coming here, must I abandon my father and my companions?”
“Phae,” he said quietly, his eyes twinkling. “You will understand it all. But you must fulfill your destiny first. You must make your oath and you must honor it always. As you learned from the Dryad whose tree you will liberate, there is a heavy price in forsaking the oath. Do you do it willingly?”
“I do,” Phae said, nodding, her heart nearly exploding with emotions. She felt tears on her lashes.
“After you have accepted the oaths, you will be allowed to eat one of the fruit from the tree. Each kind bestows a power. For example, the fruit of ambition causes the fireblood. One of the fruits bestows the Vaettir gift of breath. You are also Dryad-born and possess a gift through your faculty of sight. Not only can you take in experiences through your eyes, you can also take them away from others. You can draw memories from someone else. Or restore them, once the power is fully consecrated. What you will learn is knowledge that you cannot share within the mortal world. Possessing it will make you different from others. It will give you great wisdom, Phae. However, in much wisdom is much grief. And they that increase knowledge also increase sorrow. As you learn the truth, you will grieve. But I promise you that the fruit of that knowledge, while bitter to the taste, is also most sweet too.”
He turned away from her, looking out at the vast expanse of ocean, the teeming waves crashing down below. The wind whipped the fringe of his robe, gliding through his long, dark hair. She saw the double swords strapped to him, realizing that he had many skills and played many roles.
The Seneschal turned back to her. “A Dryad protects knowledge, Phae. She helps prevent the Decay from destroying knowledge from the mortal world. She is bound to a tree for a period of service. It means she coexists between Mirrowen and the mortal realm. When your service is complete, you will be allowed to dwell in either world or in a new world entirely. The family and friends you know now will not be there when your service is complete. Not many mortals earn the right to be part of us. Most are distracted by ducats and how to acquire them. When your time is growing near, you will need to choose a husband in order to bear a daughter who can replace you. You will teach her of Mirrowen and her responsibilities. When she is nearly sixteen, you will bring her to me in Mirrowen, where I will bind her with the Voided Keys to your tree. That will free you from service.”
“I understand,” Phae answered. She exhaled deeply. “Unfortunately, the Dryad tree I seek is in the midst of the Scourgelands. Not many mortals will be able to seek it.”
The Seneschal smiled. “It has always been thus, because that tree guards the portal to Mirrowen. A Dryad can visit here through a tree. If a mortal seeks to become an Unwearying One, he or she must pass through the portal. The last man to have done so made the journey very long ago. His name is not Shion. He was known by another name then.”
“Will you tell me?”
“Do you accept the duty of your race, Phae? Will you accept a new name with these powers I unlock inside of you? Will you serve the mortal world and help those living there to remember Mirrowen and seek to attain it?”
“Yes,” Phae answered, bowing her head.
The Seneschal gripped one of the Voided Keys in his left hand. He put his right hand on her shoulder, bent down, and kissed the top of her head.
“My name is Melchisedeq. I give you your Dryad name—Arsinowe. I bind you to your tree by the Voided Keys.”
A feeling of warmth and strength began to suffuse across Phae, from the crown of her hea
d, spreading down to the nape of her neck, all the way down to the soles of her feet. She shuddered, feeling her mind opening, blooming, her memory quickening. The seed of power inside of her, the part of her that was truly Dryad-born, expanded, filling her with compassion and empathy.
She looked up, tears streaking down her cheeks, and saw the Seneschal smiling at her with tears in his own eyes.
In the stillness, amidst the caress of the wind, she heard his thoughts as if spoken audibly. The voice was the sound of rushing waters. It went deep into her marrow, and she was fairly certain that every being in Mirrowen could hear the thought as well as she—that distance meant nothing. It jolted her with its simplicity, yet also with its penetrating quality.
Neodesha—come
“The Arch-Rike’s temple is under heavy guard. Any attempts to breach its walls are repulsed with devastating magic. The Rikes hold power there, and some of the citizenry were turned away when seeking shelter. There are Bhikhu there as well, but mostly Kishion guard the walls. The Empress is agitated, worried about the lives of the populace. If the Plague strikes now, the situation will become desperate. She has suggested we anchor the fleet away from the piers. But will doing so cause a riot? I wish I had the wisdom to foresee what would happen.”
- Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
XXXVII
There you are,” Neodesha said, peering over Phae’s shoulder into the polished silver mirror. “Goodness, Phae, but you are beautiful.”
Phae saw the reflection of herself and was hardly able to recognize the image. Her hair was still damp but the tangles were brushed free. The dirt and grime of the Scourgelands had been scrubbed away. Her torn and filthy clothes were gone, replaced by a beautiful wool gown made in the style of Stonehollow. It was a deep amber color with blue-and-gold stitching along the sleeves, cuff, and hem.
“I don’t think I’ve ever worn a gown before,” Phae said, stroking the fabric along her arm and feeling its comfort and softness. “They’re not very practical on a homestead.” The robe had a wide fabric girdle and she had put the Tay al-Ard into one of its folds.
“Remember what I taught you,” Neodesha said. “This is no ordinary garment. It adapts to your needs and to your location. Think about the vineyard, Phae. Hold the thought firmly in your mind, and then think the word of power.”
Phae’s memories were vivid and complete. She could remember every word she had ever spoken, every conversation, every emotion. She would be able to pass along this gift of perfect memory to someone else if she kissed him. It was not one of her Dryad powers, but a gift from the Seneschal’s kiss on her forehead. Bringing up the Winemiller vineyard came to her as naturally as breathing, for she could remember every detail and knew the place as if she were right there.
Scield she thought.
The image on the mirror wavered and suddenly she was wearing her tunic and pants with comfortable boots and worn leather belt. The Tay al-Ard did not transform but remained in her belt. The transformation was not just an illusion, though. The Dryad robe could become anything she needed. She could appear as a Bhikhu or even a Rike. The magic would transform her instantly.
“You must always keep this robe,” Neodesha said, looking into her eyes seriously. “If you surrender it, you cannot return to Mirrowen.”
Phae turned and looked at her, feeling grateful the Seneschal had sent Neodesha to help her bathe and make the final preparations that would separate her from her past life. The look in Neodesha’s eyes was full of warning.
“Is that what happened?” Phae asked, gripping the other girl’s arm. “To the Dryads in the Scourgelands?”
Neodesha shook her head. “We do not know what happened, Phae. It was long ago and the Seneschal does not speak of it. I only understand that they forfeited their right to return to Mirrowen, and that I was warned, as I’m warning you, never to part from it. You now have your Dryad name, which you must give as a boon to someone who protects your tree. Be very careful whom you trust with it, Sister. Better to steal their memories than to be subjected to them.” Neodesha smiled and patted her shoulder. “Do you like the city?”
“It’s beautiful,” Phae said, staring at the bathing chamber with its marble tiles and gauzy curtains. Every detail was done after the highest order of craftsmanship. Gold fluting decorated every section of the marble, but it was not ostentatious. There were no torches or fires, for there was no place in the city where it was dark.
“Come with me then,” Neodesha invited, linking arms with her. “You might want to appear in the other gown, however. Vineyard garb wouldn’t be appropriate to wander in within the city.”
Together they left the bathing chamber through the archway. There were no doors anywhere, nothing closed off. They passed near a surging waterfall, which filled the air with a delicate mist as they passed. The smell of flowers lingered. The city was full of others, talking as they walked, discussing topics that previously would have baffled Phae. The rushing of the waterfall passed behind them and they descended a grand staircase together to a broad plaza, fringed with benches made of polished stone. Spirit animals could be seen as well, some interacting with the many races that were represented below.
The mix of plant life with the stonework of the city garden amazed Phae. She had always imagined Kenatos being a grand place to visit someday, a city built on a desolate island. Mirrowen was beyond imagining and she longed to explore the various hills that were interconnected, to search and discover exotic fragrances or budding fruit trees. She felt alive and free, but still unable to imagine that time had halted, that Shion and her father were somewhere nearby, yet not near. She fingered the Tay al-Ard, wondering if she could use it to leave Mirrowen if she needed to.
“There is the tree,” Neodesha said, gesturing across a bridge at the far side of the plaza.
It was the strangest thing she had ever seen. The tree was large and crowned with heavy limbs, but it was not of any variety she had beheld before. The bark was silver-gray and from its roots gushed a fountain of silver water that tumbled down three different channels going in three different directions, as if it were the source of three pure rivers. What tree birthed a water fountain, she wondered? As if that were not strange enough, there were a variety of different fruits growing on the different branches. Some were small and round. Others were thicker and shaped like pears. Some like apples. Some were fruits she had never seen before, with strange and colorful peels.
“Tell me about the tree,” Phae asked, staring at it as they began to cross the bridge to it. On the other side of the bridge, two massive, catlike creatures were settled and resting. Both were like Nizeera, except much bigger and with enormous white manes. Their pelts were also white and looked so soft that Phae wanted to dig her hands into them, but she dared not since their eyes were fierce.
“The tree has always been in Mirrowen,” Neodesha said. “One must be given permission to take from its fruit. The Seneschal is the Gardener. There are many powers here. Even the moss that grows on the stone can heal any wound. The leaves of the tree cure poison or disease.”
“Even the Plague?” Phae asked.
“Especially that. The waters are restorative as well. This is ancient magic, Phae. I don’t understand it.”
“If the leaves cure the Plague, why hasn’t the Seneschal stopped it from ravaging the world?”
As if in response to his title being spoken, Phae saw the Seneschal appear from behind a stone column, near the tree. He spoke to another man, his head bent low and giving instructions. The man bowed, nodded, and then greeted them as they passed over the bridge. He was a handsome man, full of youth, and he wore a Druidecht talisman around his neck.
After crossing the bridge, Neodesha escorted Phae to the Seneschal and did a small reverence to him. “I have done as you asked, Seneschal. I took Phae to the bathing pools and presented her with a Dryad robe. She has been instructed in
its magic and now I have brought her to the tree as you bid me to.”
“Thank you, Neodesha,” the Seneschal said warmly. “That is all.”
Neodesha hugged Phae one last time and then retreated back across the bridge again.
“There are many fruits growing on this tree, Arsinowe,” the Seneschal said. “But above all others, there is one that mortals desire. All of the fruit on the tree are sweet, save one. There is one that is bitter, yet it holds the most power.” He reached up to the branch and plucked a white fruit. It looked like a pear, except the skin was soft like a peach. Phae saw that the underside was white, but the top half was golden. It was small, easily fitting inside her palm as the Seneschal bestowed it.
“Why is it bitter?” Phae asked, gazing up at him.
He smiled wanly. “Many fruits surprise us with tartness or sweetness. I am certain you will come to understand the answer after you have been among us a while longer.”
She stared at it. “So if I eat this, I will never die?”
He shook his head. “No, Arsinowe. If you eat it, your body will change. You will no longer age. You cannot be injured or harmed by magic. You will not experience physical pain, but you can suffer grief and sorrow. There is a poison, however, which can slay even an Unwearying One. There is also another kind of fruit, from another tree, which will make you mortal again if you eat it.”
Phae experienced a tremor . . . a premonition. “The blade Iddawc?”
The Seneschal nodded. “Iddawc is not a blade. It is a spirit creature. Its true shape is that of a serpent. It’s quite small.” He motioned to the tree, where she saw several serpents—tiny ones—slinking in the branches. She had not noticed them until he gestured. “Some serpents live in trees, Arsinowe. Iddawc was once a guardian of this one. It was disobedient, and so it was sent to the mortal world.”
Phae swallowed, staring at the fruit cupped in her hand. “Will you tell me why?”