by James Stone
‘It doesn’t matter anyway, Anclyn. When the Angelica is reborn, the anti-heroes and false gods of the world will unmask themselves,’ Zoiln said gleefully. ‘The First will show us their faces, and we shall be liberated at last—whether there are a thousand or two of them.’
‘Are the Divinicus false gods?’ Anclyn asked.
‘Do they claim to be gods?’ Keriah smiled pitifully.
‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘They dress like angels…’
‘Then the First will rain down judgement on them,’ Zoiln scorned.
‘What about me?’ Anclyn said.
‘You’ll need to be a little more specific, girl,’ he replied.
‘What if I don’t come to believe in the First? In the Angelica?’
‘Then you—’ Zoiln started, but Keriah cut him off.
‘You will,’ she asserted. ‘You will.’
After what felt like an age, they returned to the dining hall and arrived in the kitchens, still warm from the banquet. There were mounds of seafood and bloodied meats scattered across the countertops, and each dead eye seemed to stare down Anclyn as she passed by.
‘What exactly are you looking for?’ Zoiln asked.
‘Water, I think,’ she remembered, ‘and some dry food of sorts.’
‘Was your Legatus not happy with the refreshments Deih had left, then?’
‘I don’t think he drinks wine,’ she admitted. ‘He seems a little distraught.’
‘Shame,’ Keriah handed her a pair of clear flagons, both cool to the touch. ‘The First were having a good day when they made wine.’
The group set off again in silence, chasing the candlelight back to Akanah’s quarters. Deih’s servants had offered to carry the food, so Anclyn just sauntered back empty-handed, fingering the crimps in her dress.
‘So, where’s Maggy now?’ Keriah asked after a while. ‘Has she yet to return to the others?’
‘She was still gone when I left,’ she said. ‘I do hope she returns quickly; she needs some sleep. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow, I fear.’
‘Knowing Deih, she’ll be gone all night,’ Keriah said. ‘She can cast a spell over people, that woman can.’
‘Oh,’ Anclyn remarked. ‘She’s from the Water, isn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ Zoiln said. ‘Never been there myself, though. I’ve heard it’s as haunted as Vavaria.’
‘It’s not haunted,’ Anclyn said. ‘I was from there.’
‘You were?’ Keriah asked. ‘Your face—I would hardly believe it. I’d sooner guess Cyrel.’
‘A trick of the lights can do many things,’ Anclyn said, shrugging. ‘Please don’t tell anyone, though. It’s only—I didn’t know about Deih until I arrived. I didn’t know she was from… and she’s not supposed to know…’ she trailed off.
‘You secret is safe,’ Keriah said. ‘So, you didn’t know her from the Summerlands?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Apart from Fabius’ other handmaidens, I’ve yet to meet another girl from the Water.’
‘Well, this is the Water’s second home,’ Zoiln said.
‘How so?’ Anclyn asked.
‘Inamorata stole many of its inhabitants away and planted them here to work,’ he said. ‘When Deih came to power, she released all the slaves that had been taken from the Water. After all, there’s no one she cares more for than her own kin. She’s a forgiving woman—a loving one. You would find no one better to be the avatar of the First.’
‘Anclyn,’ Keriah began as they turned a corridor. ‘If you wish, I can introduce you to the High Priestess tomorrow. You may not remember her from the Water, but she might just remember you.’
‘I—I don’t know,’ she stuttered. ‘I don’t want to get in the middle of these politics. Besides—you said she’s a goddess! I wouldn’t know how to act or what to say.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that, girl,’ Keriah giggled. ‘As Zoiln said, she is loving. You must never lie to her, though. Somehow she always finds out the truth.’
Anclyn laughed to herself. That sounds like a woman of the Water.
‘And if Deih likes you,’ Zoiln said, ‘you might find a way to disappear.’
‘How do you mean?’ Anclyn asked, almost concerned.
‘You would never have to see the Divinicus again—you’d be a whisper to the wind,’ Keriah said. ‘She might take you under her wing, provided you would commit yourself to the First, of course. Never again would you wait on an army of arrogant warmakers.’
‘I…’ Anclyn exclaimed. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘This life of false angels and tending to greedy men shouldn’t have become so ingrained in you, girl,’ Zoiln said. ‘Liberate yourself as Keriah and I did. We too were slaves of the Reaches, freed by Deih. You can be too.’
‘If you want to meet her, come to me before the sun rises tomorrow,’ Keriah said. ‘The First shall be joyous in your embracing of them.’
Anclyn felt herself grin as they made their way back to Akanah’s quarters, but her thoughts turned to Magmaya. She may have lied to her, but there was some warmth in her still when she thought of her. A warmth she couldn’t just let go.
‘I don’t know,’ Anclyn stuttered, turning to the pair.
‘What do you mean?’ Zoiln asked.
‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if I can leave Magmaya behind.’
‘She’s just another angel,’ he scoffed.
‘She’s not—she’s only been with them for a little while. She’s different; she’s only a girl.’
‘It doesn’t take a while to become one of them. All it takes is a choice,’ Keriah said, frowning. ‘Anclyn, if you don’t at least try and speak to Deih, then you’ll be making a mistake.’
‘It would feel like betrayal,’ she exclaimed. Though her mistress had often drunk dubious amounts around her, things would be different soon once they’d finished with Belliousa. She knew it. ‘After all of this is over, Fabius will give her an estate, and we will both be happy. I will look after her as her handmaiden, and I will treat her well, as she will me. I know it.’
‘And give up Deih?’ Zoiln asked. ‘Give up the First and serve false angels instead?’
‘I can’t force this on myself,’ she squirmed. ‘That would be lying.’
‘Just consider it, girl.’ Keriah smiled warmly.
The pair said their goodbyes outside Akanah’s quarters and left her with the food and drink. But Magmaya still raced through her mind as she scoured the room for her, finding no one but a dozen faces she didn’t want.
‘Is she still gone?’ Anclyn asked.
‘You’re late,’ was the only reply she got.
‘I’m sorry, my lord,’ she bowed, handing over the food and pitchers.
She watched his face contort, and finally cave, as a hand reached forward and took the food.
‘You’re dismissed,’ Akanah sighed and waved her away.
Anclyn perched back down by the fireplace, yet she could still hear echoes of the siblings’ footsteps outside. She was half-tempted to run back outside and follow them.
But… but Magmaya…?
When the room finally grew quiet again, it was as if the whole affair had never happened. In mere moments, all the food and drink she had stressed herself so much to find was gone, and all that was left were the flames.
As the night dragged on, Anclyn realised she wasn’t the only one who wanted to huddle by the fireplace; the others from Akanah’s Small Court were there too—strange faces and wise lips. She wished she could’ve told a jest or sang in tune to the flames as the choirs did, or even just weep at the notion she once thought she was free.
Occasionally, Cheyne would look to her from his secluded corner of the room with a moody grin, and she’d turn away, cold. She had often seen him creeping about the gardens of the manse but never had gone so far as to talk to him. He appeared to have a strange obsession with
Magmaya, though—the thought made her even more sick than she already was.
As the night began to draw on, there was only silence and wind until, at last, someone spoke up.
‘I served under Legatus Kurulian when he came to Belliousa, you know,’ one of the old men croaked in that tortured voice of his—Yalsus—that’s what she had heard Akanah call him. Anclyn wondered why the Legatus had cared to take him with them; perhaps it was ceremony. He seemed fairly useless otherwise. ‘His meeting with the High Priestess didn’t go too quickly either, but at least we’d left by the dawn,’ he giggled nervously. ‘Perhaps Deih of the Water hasn’t taken so kindly to the girl, either. Should we pray for her?’
‘Prayer is for the hopeless,’ one of Akanah’s handmaidens said, spitting into the flames. ‘You’ve seen the natives—that girl is the least of our problems. Keep your ancient spells to yourself old man,’ she finished, and Anclyn looked away from the flames, realising she was being stared at. ‘What about you, handmaiden? You’re one of hers—is there anything you know that might get us out of this limbo faster?’
‘I—’ Anclyn began, but the handmaiden cut her off.
‘You know this place is haunted, girl?’ she snapped, and Anclyn felt a terrible chill run down her spine. ‘The furthest reaches of this place will cast you over with witchcraft—it is known. Don’t you want to get out of here?’
‘Don’t bother her,’ Yalsus snapped, the fires lighting each crevice in his forehead. ‘She knows as much as we.’
‘Tell me,’ the other handmaiden growled, ‘Yalsus, your mother married into the Fultons, did she not?’ She paused, and the old man nodded. ‘I wouldn’t bother talking, then. You’ve probably got webbed toes too.’ She looked back to Anclyn. ‘Drop the silence and keep your head up. Allegiance to your mistress won’t get you anywhere.’
Anclyn didn’t look up, though. She traced the flames instead and watched them move, watched them breathe.
‘I’m talking to you, handmaiden!’ she snapped again. ‘How so I haven’t seen you before, anyway?’ She paused. ‘Oh… You’re one of Fabius’ bitches, aren’t you? You must have something to spill, then.’
‘I don’t spill secrets.’
The handmaiden laughed. ‘Secrets are worth more than Blood Sovereign here—learn how to spend them,’ she said. ‘So, what about Magmaya then? Is she really from…’ she trailed off and lowered her voice, ‘…the north?’
Another of the Small Court’s maidens shook her head. ‘Those pilgrims travel for months on end and give the clothes off their backs for a glimpse of the continent, only to be rewarded with a square metre of dirt—and that stowaway joins the angels? Perhaps we should just leave her with Deih.’ She fingered for a whalebone pipe at her hip and lit it. The flame joined another in an empty glass on the mantlepiece.
‘Shut up.’ Anclyn turned away with a frown and whispered, ‘She’s as innocent as a rose.’
Yalsus giggled to himself again, and the handmaiden grinned wildly. Even the others who couldn’t have paid less attention appeared amused, and Anclyn’s face flushed with colour, despite the layers of greasepaint.
‘She’s not innocent.’ The old man smiled. ‘All my life I have preached for the Maiden Gods and taken in their chosen, but never have I come face to face with anyone truly free of sin. Nearly half the continent fought at Fleetfront, and the other half in the campaign the Lostgarden—now that was a true war of knights of old, but that didn’t make it any less dreadful. The High Lord of Emeralds, Illysis Doladerio, the purest prince and his purest paramour both bloodied their hands there. And if they hadn’t done it then, they would’ve done it some other day.’
‘What about children?’ Anclyn asked. ‘Don’t you think they’re innocent?’
‘Do you see many children around here, girl?’ he croaked. ‘They either get their fingers dirty or die. Heh, perhaps you’re the exception to that by the looks of things.’
‘She probably still has her maidenhood,’ one of the others goaded. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t already sliced her throat, Yalsus, in exchange for the night to pass a little faster.’
‘That would get you nothing besides a flogging,’ the girl pointed out.
Anclyn smiled, but she felt no joy in her; a mere number of days before she had been declaring herself a free woman—what a cruel jest that had been! Now she had laughed away her chance at escape for a girl who never cared for her. It had been her duty to protect Magmaya, but she was nowhere to be seen; it was a disaster. She feared she couldn’t hide her shame anymore.
‘My gods are kinder than you give credit,’ Yalsus replied humbly. It appeared the conversation was still going.
‘What about when the world was plagued with a Red Star?’ the other handmaiden asked. ‘Didn’t your Virgin Priests try to ward off the moon by burning children?’
‘That was the Dark Age of Transmutany, long before even me,’ he said. ‘Times have changed and so has the will of my gods. The times of holy crusades and flaming swords are long over. All we have left is prayer.’
‘And the Golden Woman?’ Anclyn summoned the courage to ask.
‘Not one of ours.’
‘Quiet,’ Akanah hushed the court from across the room, and they all turned to watch him. ‘I hear something.’
‘What is it, my lord?’ Cheyne purred.
The Legatus didn’t answer, but forced himself through the door instead, looking about the corridor. The Divinicus followed him out, and a minute later, one returned.
‘Come with us, all of you,’ he crooned with a voice which wasn’t quite fit to be human. Without another word, they shuffled forward and joined Akanah in the hallway.
She tried to wish it all away—to find herself not in some forsaken temple, but instead in a castle with a handsome monarch, watching over ashen beaches and lying on the warm shores of Inamorata. She would pluck peaches and berries fresh off the trees and follow the lines of birds into the sunset. But all the old castles were haunted; everyone knew that—and she was terribly frightened of ghosts. It felt as if every ambition she had was dismissed by someone at some point; she was even beginning to dismiss them herself.
At the end of the corridor, Anclyn watched as a cluster of robed things tried to keep the Divinicus at bay, but the angels just tread through them like wolves among pups, throwing mortals aside and carving a way for Akanah and his Small Court. She had always watched from afar as the Divinicus marched off to a distant land, but it was different to be among them. She wanted to crawl up in the corner of the hall and wait for it all to be over, but whatever was happening was bigger than her. And besides, there was someone else to consider.
‘She’ll be back soon,’ she heard a Belliousan call. ‘Return to your quarters.’
‘All you hear is the wind,’ someone else insisted.
She looked longingly to the spires and arches in the light of the moon, the stained-glass window bleaching the Temple in a terrible crimson.
Somewhere out there, Anclyn realised, a girl is forsaken by the very angels she’s praying to.
Twenty-Two
No matter how many lefts Magmaya took through the winding corridors of the First Temple, she didn’t reach the room she began in. Perhaps it was a malign trick of the light or impossible act of geometry, but each step she took made her more nauseous. She could only look to Deih once they reached a new passageway, to which she would always reply with a knowing nod.
Magmaya’s head was growing light, and her shoulders burned where Deih had held her as if each step she took brought her farther from the ground and closer to the heavens. But still, the thoughts of the High Priestess’ stories lingered in her mind—the taste of flesh and fur—the brisk cold that had made itself her enemy. With every passing moment, she felt herself become less Magmaya Vorr and more Deih of the Water. It had felt like mere seconds had passed since she had joined the High Priestess, but deep inside, something screamed to her it had been a matter of h
ours.
The pair passed a small shrine as they walked, and the High Priestess stopped to bow to a man who kneeled at its foot. ‘My condolences to the loss of your daughter,’ she whispered, and the man blushed and praised her before turning back to his grieving.
That was until, in the reflection of his trinkets, his gaze caught Magmaya’s, and he looked to her, mouth agape. Even from where she was standing, she could make out the terror in the Belliousan’s eyes, and in them, she saw the shimmer of her pearly plate beneath her robes.
She tried to cover herself, but the damage was already done.
‘He was paralysed.’ Magmaya frowned, and they continued through the hall; it was black as pitch as if the sun had neglected it. ‘Just a glimpse of my armour and he was frozen.’
‘The reasons to fear the Divinicus are likely the same as those to worship them,’ Deih remarked as they entered a thin hall, lit only by hanging candles from the wiry walls. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that, though, child. Where I’m taking you, none of that will matter.’
‘And where are you taking me?’ she asked, feverish. She felt uncertain, but something within her yearned to hear it. She had travelled through the First Temple so far already; she could only let a little more poison in. Perhaps in it, she would find the antidote she was looking for.
‘Actually,’ Deih said, with a flash of embarrassment in her voice. ‘I suppose it’s not where I’m taking you. It’s who I’m taking you to.’
‘Oh,’ Magmaya remarked. ‘Who then?’
There was a beating of clockwork, and the halls fell silent; an empty ticking followed their footsteps as they descended a flight of stairs. Then Deih spoke.
‘You see, after Cecalia, we actually met the Grandmasters in that mansion we were taken to,’ she started, her voice chiming through the damp of the corridor. ‘I didn’t know their names then, but I have since learnt them. The first I met was an old aristocrat called Nurmian Claerg who seemed to be on the brink of death himself. He had a wife and eleven children, I was told, and he fed and clothed them by selling girls like me to gaudy men like him who didn’t know where to put their cocks.’ She paused. ‘He scared me the most. After him, I was shown to Fasorn Vedrick, Lord Commander of the Divinicus before our friend Fabius—selling slaves, would you believe it?’