by NS Dolkart
“Salemis didn’t say our God had grown more merciful toward the Yarek,” Criton said, growing visibly frustrated. “Just because He’s more merciful than He was before doesn’t mean He can forgive a world-destroying monster.”
“The ancient Yarek was a monster,” Phaedra conceded, “and so is Illweather. But God Most High couldn’t have split the Yarek into its kind and cruel halves if it didn’t have a kind half. I’ve met Castle Goodweather. It was gentle and apologetic, even while it was dying in front of our eyes. Salemis and Bandu went to great lengths to make sure that the seed we planted in this world came from Castle Goodweather, so don’t tell me it’s incapable of cooperation or repentance.”
Here was something new: Kilion had never heard of castles Illweather and Goodweather, though he understood by context what they were. It was shocking to think that Criton’s first child – Vella’s adoped daughter! – had been named after an aspect of the Yarek, even if Goodweather was supposed to be the kind half. Kilion had known all along that Bandu had a very different relationship with the Yarek than the Dragon Touched did, but this was almost too much to comprehend.
Criton was still arguing. “You want to let the Yarek re-form itself in our world, and still say it deserves the benefit of the doubt because the piece here came from Goodweather’s seed. You can’t have it both ways, Phaedra. You’re telling us you have a plan to save the world, but your actual plan is to end it faster.”
“We are supposed to welcome the end of this world,” Kilion pointed out. “We are supposed to rejoice at the Yarek’s defeat and join in God Most High’s final victory. Let the Dragon Touched repent on our own behalf and on the behalf of humanity, and leave the Yarek to choose repentance or defeat. It is not our place to extend mercy to the Yarek, but neither do we have the right to deny it. I thank you for this message and this opportunity, Angel Phaedra. I will teach you our prayers for repentance. Use them as you will.”
“I’m not an angel,” Phaedra denied.
“An angel is a messenger from God,” Criton snapped. “There is no other meaning of the word.”
The two islanders stared at each other for a moment. Then, suddenly, they both grinned.
“I’ve been away too long,” Phaedra said. “Hopefully I’ll see more of you when this is all over.”
Criton nodded his head. “You’ll always be welcome here.”
Three days later, with Phaedra already gone, Criton returned to the temple carrying a pair of axes. “Are you ready?” he asked Malkon.
“I’m ready. Father, will you bless our journey?”
“May our God bless you and protect you,” Kilion murmured. “May He reveal His wishes to you and send you on the right path. May He favor you and grant you peace.”
It was a traditional blessing, the most powerful one Kilion knew. Criton’s argument for this backup plan had been strong, but that only made the high priest fear more for his son’s life.
“Promise me,” he had begged Malkon, “that you will wait until Phaedra has failed before you and Criton attempt to harm the Yarek. Criton is right that we cannot trust Phaedra to succeed, but it is blasphemy to try to make God Most High’s decisions for Him. The Yarek must be given the chance to repent, do you understand?”
“Of course,” Malkon had answered, tossing his head dismissively. “You’re worried your own son will blaspheme?”
Kilion had tried to make eye contact, but his son had been busy adjusting his vestments. “I do not lack for worries,” he had said.
He found himself repeating the phrase as his son and Criton rode off with their fifty picked men.
I do not lack for worries.
33
Bandu
It wasn’t easy, but Bandu did her best to follow the Yarek’s advice. She threw her full efforts into enjoying life, what little of it was left. She played with the dogs she trained, sweet stupid things. She raced through the woods with Goodweather. She listened to Vella, singing to herself while she cooked, and tried not to cry.
Vella kept asking her what was wrong, but Bandu couldn’t bring herself to tell her. Instead she would shake her head with wet eyes and say, “We should be happy.”
Vella thought it was about Bandu’s aging. She raged over the lost years as if they still mattered now. But of course, she didn’t know. Bandu couldn’t bring herself to tell her; she only cried and refused to speak.
She no longer cared about her aging body: she cared that Goodweather would never grow. She shuddered thinking about the sea of dreamers in the land of the dead, how the raven-angels would drag her family apart with those pale talons to keep their dreams from swallowing them. Some people, who didn’t know better, thought that the dead dwelled together in harmony, that they could see the loved ones they had lost and have a happier existence below than in this life. It was a terrible burden to know better. Bandu knew the underworld would give her no opportunity to play with Four-foot again, or see her daughter smile. Whatever people said or believed, no family would enjoy eternal life. They couldn’t even dream together.
So she filled her days with Goodweather’s smiles and Vella’s love, and did her best to discard her useless anger and sadness. But she couldn’t let go of those feelings, not completely. Why hadn’t Castle Goodweather told her this would happen? Why hadn’t Salemis – that great dragon who had pretended to be so kind? The Yarek said it was all because she had planted it here, but Bandu refused to accept that this was her fault. Others had known. She had only tried to make the world kinder.
Bandu was working with a pair of hound pups when she saw Phaedra riding toward her, her horse’s reins in one hand and her staff in the other, wearing a dress as yellow as the sun. The dress billowed as she went; her horse was galloping toward their little house at top speed.
Goodweather ran from Bandu’s side to the cottage door, calling “Myma! Phaedra’s back!” until Vella came out in her apron. As they watched Phaedra’s approach together, Bandu’s joy at seeing her friend quickly faded. Here it came. The task.
Eleven years ago, Phaedra had brought with her the news that Criton was dead, and that only Bandu could bring him back. She had done what was asked of her and given her years so that Criton could make peace between the Dragon Touched and Ardis. She had done it to save Goodweather and Vella from the dangers of war, but it had bought them only eleven years. What did Phaedra want this time?
The dogs were barking. “Goodweather,” Bandu said, “take the dogs back home. If Phaedra is here, I don’t have time later.”
“But Ma, I want to see Phaedra too!”
“See her when you come back.”
“At least let me say hello to her first.”
Bandu relented, and told the dogs to be quiet. Vella put an arm around Bandu, also thinking about the time Phaedra had come to take Bandu away. When Phaedra arrived, she dismounted from her tired, foamy horse and gave Bandu and Vella a hug before she even tied the reins to the post. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry, I need Bandu’s help.”
“You can’t!” Vella breathed. “What’s happened this time?”
Phaedra looked from one to the other, and sighed. “The world’s going to end unless we do something about it.”
“Goodweather,” Bandu said. “The dogs.”
The trouble with dogs was that they reacted to Bandu’s emotions too strongly, and they misinterpreted everything. The pups were growling now, thinking Phaedra must be some enemy if her presence made Bandu feel threatened. They’d try to bite her soon, and Bandu didn’t want to have to kill them. That wouldn’t make her neighbors happy, and they deserved their happiness too, before the end.
Goodweather turned, grumbling, and pulled on the dogs’ leather collars, shushing them. Her magic was strong enough that they obeyed, if unwillingly, and soon both were running off beside her toward the town.
Bandu and Vella watched them go. Vella turned back first. “What do you mean, the world’s going to end?”
Bandu took the horse’s rei
ns and found a place for it away from the garden, rubbing the sweat off its mane with a rag. She could still hear what Phaedra was saying, but she almost didn’t have to. She already knew the basic facts, she just didn’t know the details.
Phaedra’s solution saddened her. It wouldn’t work.
“I speak to the Yarek already,” Bandu confessed. “It doesn’t care that it breaks.”
“You don’t understand,” Phaedra said, as Vella pulled away, crying. “What? Bandu, why didn’t you tell me?”
Bandu only bowed her head, tears in her eyes.
“Listen,” Phaedra said, “the Yarek doesn’t have to break. If the mesh unravels, the Yarek can go straight to wholeness without being shattered for eons first. The trouble is that I don’t think God Most High will let us do it unless something very big changes. Psander only got as far as us unraveling the mesh, but she admitted she has no idea what would happen after that. Well, I’ve read the eschatologies now, and I think I know what’ll happen. A unified Yarek will be so big, it’ll easily end this world itself in a battle with God Most High. So unraveling the mesh is necessary, but it’s not enough.
“What would work, though, is if the Yarek repented. The draconic eschatology says that only true repentance can save the world – I want the Yarek to be part of that. If it helps us open the mesh, and it repents fully to God Most High, it’ll save the whole of existence. The only trouble is, I can’t talk to the Yarek without an interpreter. That’s why I need your help, Bandu. I need you to come with me, so you can tell me what it’s saying.”
Bandu sighed. “What do I lose this time?”
Phaedra looked confused. “What do you mean, Bandu? You don’t lose anything. What do you have to lose now?”
“Time.”
Phaedra and Vella both just stared, so against her will, Bandu had to elaborate. “For weeks now, I know all this. I know the world is dying: the Yarek tells me. It tells me, the sunshine is good. I can’t stop the dying world, I only can be happy with sunshine and Goodweather and Vella before everything breaks. You think maybe it doesn’t break, but you want me to leave Vella and Goodweather for it. You have time for us all to walk? No, you want me on horse with you, so we can go faster, because sky is breaking fast. No time for Goodweather. No time for sunshine.”
“But Bandu,” Vella said, “what if you help Phaedra, and it works? Then we’d have years together!”
“Phaedra doesn’t need me,” Bandu insisted. “You don’t need me, Phaedra, only you think you need me. When I am little and don’t know anything, Goodweather teaches me to understand. You are a wizard. If the Yarek wants to talk to you and you want to know what it says, then you understand. It can teach you. You don’t need me.”
“Goodweather taught you…?” Vella said. “I don’t understand, Bandu.”
“Goodweather is named after a living castle,” Phaedra explained. “Castle Goodweather, the kind half of the Yarek. The great tree in this world came from that Goodweather’s seed. But Bandu, I promise you I won’t understand what it’s saying without you. I’ve been to Castle Goodweather. Psander and I needed the elves to interpret its speech for us; we didn’t understand it ourselves.”
“Maybe you have elves, so you don’t try,” Bandu said. “Understand the Yarek is only hard if you don’t listen. If Yarek wants you to know what it says, and you listen, then you understand. I stay here, and tell it to try harder.”
The disappointment on Phaedra’s face was unmistakable. “You’re not going to come with me? What if you’re wrong?”
“I am not wrong. What if you are wrong? Then I lose my last times with Vella and Goodweather, and our world still breaks. I never see them again. No, Phaedra. You go without me. You try.”
“And if I get there, and I can’t hear it? What if I could have saved our world, but I can’t without you?”
Bandu waved her away. “You don’t save our world, the Yarek saves our world, and even when you don’t hear it, it hears you. If it likes your idea, if it wants to say sorry to God Most High, then it hears you and it says sorry. It doesn’t need me. Vella does. Goodweather does.”
Phaedra bowed her head. “Then I’ve wasted my time. I should have gone straight south. You’re sure you won’t come?”
She looked so crushed that Bandu had to give her a reassuring hug. “You can talk to the Yarek,” she said. “I trust you. I hope it does too.”
“Will you stay awhile?” Vella asked. “Let your horse rest an hour – it needs it. We can eat something, and wait for Goodweather to get back.”
Phaedra shook her head, and made her way back to her weary horse. “I shouldn’t. Every moment counts. I can let the horse trot a bit, but I can’t stop now. I hope you’re right about the Yarek, and I hope I’ll see you again someday soon. Enjoy… enjoy the sunshine.”
With that, Phaedra mounted, using her staff to push off the ground. “Good luck!” Vella said. “We’re counting on you.”
Phaedra nodded, miserable, and rode away. “I miss you!” Bandu called out to her. “If the Yarek listens, come back here after!”
Phaedra only waved.
Bandu turned back to her wife, and they embraced. “I love you so much,” Vella said. “Thank you for staying with us.”
Bandu nodded, holding her tight. The burden had lifted. It was in Phaedra’s hands now, and in the Yarek’s, and that was good. Let Vella’s God choose someone else for once. Bandu could live and love her family, hoping that the world would not end after all, and enjoying every moment before it did.
“I am sorry I don’t tell you before,” she said. “I should tell you.”
“It’s a hard thing to say,” Vella answered, “and there was nothing I could have done about it. You should have told me, but I understand why you didn’t. Let’s not tell Goodweather, though. She can’t do anything about it either, and I don’t want her to worry. Let’s just trust in Phaedra and hold each other closer from now on.”
34
Criton
He parted with Delika last. He knew that would be the hardest.
“I’ll be away for a few weeks,” he said. “There’s something I have to do.”
The girl’s eyes were wide and frightened. “Tell me. Please tell me what you’re doing.”
What to say? He was riding to save her, to save the world. “You know the Great Tree?” he said. “I’m going to chop it down.”
He saw anger in her eyes – the anger of confirmation. She had known; she had seen him gathering his axmen and hoped that her guess was wrong.
“It won’t let you,” she said. “It’s part of that ancient monster. Criton, it’ll kill you!”
Criton put a scaly hand on her shoulder. “I’ve fought it before, love. With God’s help, I won’t fail.”
“But what if you do? What if you never come back? At least your other wives have families to return to.”
“Then I’d better come back to you,” he said with a smile. She didn’t return it.
What could he say to make her feel better? She could not dissuade him from going, and they both knew it. He’d never shied away from what had to be done, no matter the risk. He’d saved his friends from the Red Priest in Anardis, when anyone else would have abandoned them. He’d confronted Castle Illweather alone, without even Bandu at his side, and rescued Delika and all the others from its depths. And though Narky had insisted it was suicide, he had rescued the Dragon Knight’s prophecy from the worshippers of Mayar. Delika knew that the man who had pulled her from the sea was not afraid to risk his life – that was why she had appealed to his love for her, instead of dwelling on the danger he himself would be facing.
The reason she was so angry about it was that she knew this was a fight she would lose. Of course he loved her; that was why he couldn’t sit back and rely on Phaedra. How could he sit on his hands and hope that the Yarek would repent, when he had this girl to protect? He had been wrong to let her grow dependant on him, that much was true, and it would be terribly hard on her if he
died on this mission; but far worse than her having to live without him would be for her not to live.
“I will come back,” he said. “I won’t leave you alone. Please believe me.”
“You’ve done it twice already,” Delika answered tearfully. “How do you know this third time won’t be the last?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, so instead he used a trick he’d learned from Bandu. He kissed her.
“I’ll come back,” he repeated.
He meant it. He’d gone into danger so many times before, and for lesser causes. It was hard to believe that God Most High would turn His back on Criton now. Victory was the only option.
Delika clung to him, sobbing. “I don’t want you to die.”
Her dependence aroused him, that was the shameful thing. Vella was right about that. He kissed his wife on the forehead and gently pushed her away.
“I have to go, love.”
“Promise me you’ll come back,” she sobbed.
“Of course,” he answered. “Even death couldn’t stop me – you of all people should know that.”
He left the house feeling strong and confident, ready to fulfill his destiny. He gathered his men and picked up Malkon from the temple, and together they rode from the city.
“Where are we going?” Malkon asked as Criton turned eastward. “The enemy of God Most High is that way!”
“I know,” Criton said. “We’re going to pick up my daughter first.”
Malkon reined his horse in. “Why? Why put Goodweather in danger? She won’t be of use, Criton, she’s twelve.”
“Don’t assume what you don’t know. Goodweather isn’t just my eldest, she’s Bandu’s daughter. Bandu will have taught her how to talk to trees and animals – she’ll be able to communicate with the Yarek. Phaedra’s going to get Bandu to translate for her, so who’ve we got? Only Goodweather. Without her, how will we know if we’ve passed Phaedra and gotten there first, or if Phaedra and Bandu have already been there and failed? Goodweather will be able to find that out. Besides, the Yarek will listen and respond to her, so if it comes to an assault she should be able to distract it. A wise woman told me once, never use force when you can use overwhelming force. I want Goodweather by my side.”