A Glimmer on the Blade

by Rachel E. Baddorf

  “No. I don't want it!” yelled Anoni.

  “THE SYBIL HAS NAMED YOU AT HER PASSING,” the voice replied.

  “I can’t. I can’t. If I could control this power, they wouldn’t have died,” said Anoni in despair.

  “ACCEPT THIS ONUS. YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN.” At these words from the eerie voice, the spell lines shifted, disappearing everywhere but over Anoni’s hands and feet at the ring relics. Around the relics, the light bloomed.

  “No! Choose another. I have other oaths to honor,” said Anoni. She desperately tried to get the ring off her first finger but it would not come.

  “ACCEPT! YOU HOLD THE SCION’S PLACE,” demanded the voice. The lines grew, reaching past her wrists.

  “No! I’m not one of your children,” reasoned Anoni.

  The bicolor eyes gave Corin a knowing look. “YOU ARE ONE OF MANY.” Corin took an involuntary step backward. The Goddess inside Anoni seemed to know him. Holy terror clutched at his heart.

  Desperately, Anoni argued. “I am a Dragon, I stand by your son. Followers of Califf plot to kill him.”

  The lines stopped their progress. The voice almost sounded surprised. “CALIFF’S CHILDREN BURN THEIR HATE AGAIN?”

  “Yes. Aren’t you supposed to stop him? They tried to take a Dragon’s sister. They tried to put their sigil on her. They hurt her. If you can’t stop that, I don’t even want you!” Anoni shook with the struggle in her body.

  “WHO?” questioned the voice. Anoni’s head snapped up, cocked to the side with divine puzzlement. The bicolored eyes locked on Copelia. The girl stumbled backward under the gaze. Pity crossed Anoni’s bloody face. “OH, MISHI’S DAUGHTER. I HAVE KNOWN THE PAIN OF CALIFF’S FIRE. YOU OWE MUCH, BUT MUCH ELSE IS OWED. THIS SERVICE IS NOT BEYOND YOU. YOU MAY ACCEPT THIS CALL AND YOU WOULD BE BEYOND HIS TOUCH, FOREVER.”

  “But you aren’t my goddess. I...” Copelia stuttered, her hands going to touch the bandages on her chest.

  “MISHI KNOWS THE DANGER OF FIRE. YOU HAVE THE CAPABILITY...AND HAD SHE HAD A SPECIAL CALL FOR YOU, YOU WOULD KNOW BY NOW. SHE WILL NOT MIND MY BORROWING YOU FOR THIS LIFE.”

  Copelia’s eyes were hollow, lost in bad memory. “All right. With the mark on me now, Califf’s people could try to use magic to find me, couldn’t they?” she asked Yupendra. He nodded with regret. She nodded, resigned and resolutely faced the Goddess. “I don’t ever want to be in their hands again.”

  “THE CALL IS ANSWERED.” Hands glowing, Anoni’s silver rings on her hands and feet melted together. A spirit beast rose out of Anoni’s back, taking the silver with it. Corin made out that it was a dark translucent lioness with gleaming silver claws and feline fangs. It floated over Anoni for a moment before leaping across the clearing. Copelia braced for the impact, but the spirit beast came to a stop in front of her. It rose onto its back legs, putting its silver-clawed front paws on her shoulders. Copelia looked deep into its silver and dark eyes. The nightlion tilted her head and closed her silver teeth on Copelia’s neck. The four long canine teeth sank into her neck and the creature drained away. The light trickled into Copelia, flaring and pulsing. After a moment the light settled into her skin.

  Copelia held her hands out in awe. The bandages had disintegrated. In the place of the scars was a set of silver casters with a matching set for her feet. Struck by a thought, Copelia reached under her shirt and felt for the bandage and the burn there. She held the shirt up, showing a clear expanse of creamy skin. The brand was healed, and it was incorporated into a complex ideogram of spell lines combining the symbols for the moon and the Goddess. The lines flashed silver and faded, leaving them as raised pearly scars. Copelia smiled, tears falling from her eyes.

  Shakily, she walked around the fire, past the men, past even her brother. She stood in front of Anoni where she still was on hands and knees in the dirt. Anoni looked up with visible fearful reluctance.

  Copelia smiled, holding a hand out to her. Anoni clasped it with her own and let Copelia help her to her feet. Anoni looked at her own hands, seeing them covered with the spell line scars. Copelia put her hands palm to palm with Anoni’s. It was a stark contrast: the casters on Copelia’s hands and the spell’s remnant burned onto Anoni’s hands.

  “She said these scars are to remind you that accepting risk is in the heart of all actions, she values oath keepers, and glory can only be attained by choice. Also that children never truly escape their parents,” related Copelia.

  Anoni tried to speak, and again, before she could clear her throat to make a sound.

  “Are you in there Copelia?”

  The girl smiled. “Yes. I’m here.” She gave Anoni a conspiratorially wink. “Scion, I will meet you at the Temple. Will I see you there, sister?”

  Anoni gave the girl a hug. “I will see you there. Do you have to leave?”

  Copelia nodded and said, “I have to get back. Alcyenne is with the Goddess. I need to find her body, and the woman who killed her.”

  “Be careful of Stellys. She’s with the Shaisos now,” Anoni said, pulling back. “Ildiko and the prince are in the light well. I don’t know how long they can last. You’ll have to find a way...”

  “I know, I know,” said Copelia. She flapped her hand impatiently, sounding much more like herself. “I’m not a child.”

  Anoni smiled. “I know.” She hugged Copelia once more and said, “The Lady was right. Risk is in all actions. Be careful. Califfites and marines are on their side. I think we underestimated the enemies’ resources.” She squeezed Copelia one last time and let go.

  “She’s awake, Anoni, the Goddess. She’s here and she’s on our side,” Copelia said, her voice full of wonder.

  Anoni nodded. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be,” Copelia assured her.

  Chagrined, Anoni said, “I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to explain this to your parents.”

  Copelia smirked. “Explain to them why my brother’s sword arm doubles as a lighthouse. After that, the rest is easy. They always wanted me to pick a vocation.”

  ***

  Foothills, Safiro Wilds

  Copelia

  Nightswift pranced under the calming hands of Yupendra. He wanted to go. Copelia had no idea what she was going to do when she got to Aquillion, but she knew, deep in her bones that still hummed with the Goddess’s power, that she was needed there. What would her parents say? she wondered as she packed. She had never been a very devout worshiper of Mishi, and she knew next to nothing about the moon Goddess of Aquillion. She had heard Mizrahi mention the name of her priestess was Alcyenne. It was only now, knowing Mizrahi was a woman, one of the Ozuk bandits, and a hundred other things that revealed Mizrahi’s personal priestess to be The High Priestess, the Sybil of the Temple. What Anoni did, she did with the blessing of the temple. Except of course, the part about turning down the promotion to head of the patron religion of the largest empire on the continent. Alcyenne had wanted Anoni to do this, with all the confidence of a sword in her hand, and righteousness in her heart.

  Perhaps before the incident in the Ordeal Chamber, before the deaths of all those clergy and the guards, Anoni would have taken the position. Before the Goddess made an appearance through Anoni’s own mouth. Having accidentally called down a possession by a goddess, now Anoni understood the folly of her risk in disturbing the moonpearl relics. She should have died, just dissolved to dust from the inside out. But Copelia had the feeling the Goddess had held her together.

  Her thoughts sidetracked onto Corin. Anoni had the silver light in her still, especially in her hands. It was residual light from her temple sigil. But Corin, he blazed with it. The spell lines were invisible to others, but she could see them. So many it was almost as if they knitted together the smallest bits of his body. She didn’t know what it meant.

  He noticed her gaze and came over, nervously checking to see no one else was close enough to hear. “Copelia...” He seemed at a loss for words. Finally he took her hands in his. “The prince is very importa
nt to me. I am his...man. Anoni told you where he is?”

  “Yes. She briefed me on the battle.” Her words came out stiffly, because she was distracted by the casters’ responses to his touch. Her hands tingled, and something like deja vu swept over her.

  “I...We don’t know how long he can survive in the light well. Please...I think if he died, I would die, Copelia. I can’t explain, I just need you to know it matters. He’ll need you to finish the Ordeal Ceremony too.”

  It was crazy, but she believed him. She had watched him all during the journey here, growing up and outward, like a tree that finally had room to stretch toward the sun. He had been a soft, weak city boy, but under Anoni and the Dragons’ influence, he was sure of himself; he was becoming a warrior like those she had known all her life.

  But this scared him and he couldn’t even articulate how.

  She stood on tip toe and kissed his cheek. “It’ll be all right. Nightswift is the fastest thing on four legs and the world has yet to see me with a real mission between my teeth.”

  That startled a laugh from him. She squeezed his hands gently. “You keep an eye on Anoni for me, eh?”

  “I don’t think...” Corin struggled to find the right words.

  “Hush. I know how she looks at you,” she said with quiet certainty.

  He shook his head wryly and bid her farewell. Leaving her to finish her packing, he went back to the horses. Whatever he did was in the hands of the Goddess, she thought. She had tried to mention the magic that covered Corin to Anoni earlier, seeing as he was part of the Dragon’s quest and magic was dangerous but something inside had stifled her at the last moment. She had ended up with a lame statement about how “Corin was very complex.”

  Copelia finished her packing, shoving the last of the supplies she needed into her saddlebags. She would deal with Corin’s spells after she sorted out whatever was in Aquillion. She settled the saddlebags in their place on Nightswift. Yupendra held his halter. In an undertone, she said, “Don’t hold it against her. Being scarred by a Goddess is punishment enough.”

  The scowling healer would not look at her. “She’s normally so dependable. Then, every once in a while, she gets this careless destructive...”

  Copelia put a hand under his chin so he would meet her eyes. “Forgive her, she doesn’t know any other way to live. She needs you to be there.”

  Yupendra grumbled. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Stop pouting, it makes your head wrinkle,” she said sharply. “You came here for more than one reason. Get over your pride. She just lost the Goddess’s magic. The communion stones are blown completely. Our one great advantage is gone. We will need all that you can do.”

  He looked at her, frowning deeper, but nodding. “All right.”

  Copelia took her horse’s reins and left him. Arjent came up to her before she could reach where Vansainté and most of the Dragons were talking. They would stay here the rest of the night to rest, then get an early start. Copelia suddenly felt so much older than he. His brown skin was reddened in a blush. “I never thanked you for helping to save my life,” she said.

  “It was no trouble. I wanted you to have this.” said Arjent. It was a pair of wrist sheathes with a small throwing knife in each.

  “Thank you.”

  “Wear them and stay safe,” he said uncomfortably, helping her to put them on. They fit well, not interfering with the casters. She felt strange with the weapons alongside of her holy instruments. She turned around and quickly dug in her saddlebags for a moment, bringing out a chipped enameled tile in a familiar shade of indigo. She had stolen it from his tent one night early on.

  “I figured I should give this back,” she said in chagrin.

  He took it in his hand, surprised. “A tile from the domes of Oruno. A memory of home. I didn’t realize it was missing.”

  “Sorry. It was pretty,” she said, embarrassed.

  “Keep it. You’re from Oruno too. And some day, take me to your parents’ estate and let me see these beauties?” He patted Nightswift on the shoulder.

  “Thank you. I’ll cherish it,” she said. Copelia gave him a kiss on the cheek and turned away, before he could blush any worse. She went up to Giovicci and Nekobashi. They also looked uncomfortable. “Thank you for teaching me,” she said simply, and turned to go on.

  “Wait. I...we...wanted you to have a weapon. To protect yourself,” Giovicci said. Nekobashi stepped forward and handed her his second-best glaive. It was good Tehana steel, made especially for him as a Dragon. It was only inferior to his best glaive because his best had been made by his grandfather on his island homeland and was a family heirloom, he had told her once. She smiled, running her hands over the shaft of wood. She realized her eyes were running. These men were warriors, and weapons were all they could give her to help herself.

  “Thank you so much,” she said as she hugged them both and continued on. She came to Vansainté and Anoni. Anoni just nodded to her; the feeling that they had said all they needed to say was mutual. Vansainté, Copelia just hugged in silence for a long time. Finally, they parted. “See you in the capital, brother. Then we’ll see about getting your arm to stop glowing. You’ll scare the Delkerans to a froth with that.”

  Anoni held Copelia’s new glaive as she mounted and wished her speed and luck. Outside the camp, Copelia spared a moment of thought to the glaive. Its half-moon shaped blade lit up silver in the night. It lit her path as she traveled out of the forest and back down the road to Aquillion.

  ***

  Foothills, Safiro Wilds

  Anoni

  Anoni burrowed deeper into her bedroll, desperately tired and unable to fall asleep. She had met her Goddess. All these years, she had used the relics and never really believed. Now she had no choice—it didn’t get more firsthand than arguing with a deity for the use of your body. Anoni had felt the awesome power, and the curious intelligence of the being. But when she had thought about taking over the temple, she balked. She liked being on the winning side; she liked that feeling of warm validation. But she was not the person to lead others in belief, or to give up the sword for theomantic power. That power was uncontrollable, and always channeled from a higher being.

  She choked on a laugh, lying in the dark. Her incredible stupidity in refusing the will of a god dawned on her like a masonry accident. In the holy books, those who did not answer the call were cursed; the body was found as if eaten by lions, no matter where the offender chose to hide. But I am what I am, and all that I am is myself, she thought. She had control of her actions and decisions. She lived by her hands and her sword. Always had. She could not live being dictated to and fawning for the favor of power from an outside source. She didn’t want theomantic power—it was unpredictable, eerie, and unearthly. But she wished she still had the communion stones, wished very much for that comfort.

  She had never thought of the relics—the disguise stone, the communion stones, and the rings—she had worn as a power of the Goddess. But they had been; the Goddess had backed her. And backed her no more. She had been offered protection by the Goddess and had said no. Yet she didn’t feel that the Goddess hated her. There was no guilt of disappointing a sacred Mother. She had accepted Anoni’s reasoning. I know where I stand, and unless she wants her son on earth to die, she’ll have to be content with my presence here. I can’t be her voice, but maybe she’s all right with having me as a right hand, thought Anoni. She sighed, the bravado was hollow, and the night outside her tent seemed colder.

  ***

  Aquillion, Artisan’s District

  Priya

  The morning light filtered through the shop window and through the doorway into the workroom where they sat, cross-legged. Priya was hungry, but she didn’t complain. They were hiding, and when you were hiding, you stayed quiet. Maximo was drawing things in the dust on the floor and another little boy, Hugh, was sleeping. Priya put her stomach from her mind. Besides, Sister Ketchkei was getting breakfast. Priya had never been in a pott
er’s shop before. Everything was so interesting. There was a big pottery wheel where they made the vases and jars. There was a kiln built into the bricks of the wall. There was the clay dust on the floor. The potter was a little old man with boney knuckles and glasses. He was asleep upstairs. He smelled funny.

  The back door to the shop was unlocked and someone came in, re-locking it before walking down the hall and into the workroom. It was Sister Ketchkei, carrying a basket of bread and her staff. The other reason Priya had stayed quiet was Ketchkei. She was a young acolyte, built solid and tall, with a braid of hair the color between white and gold, and deep tanned skin. She wasn’t mean or anything; she just seemed angry all the time. Priya liked that she always said what she meant. Ketchkei had gotten her, Maximo, and Hugh out of the temple during the fire through a small side passage.

  “Here you go.” Ketchkei handed her a big sweet roll, tossed another to Maximo, and went to poke Hugh with her shoe. “Up. Time for breakfast.”

  Sleepy-eyed, Hugh sat up and started gnawing on the roll she gave him.

  “Why did you leave your robes here?” asked Priya.

  Sister Ketchkei wore a blue tunic and leggings. “We’re hiding, remember. Right now some bad people are trying to hurt us.”

  “But how will we find the others if everyone is hiding?” Priya bit her lip in worry.

  Where were the rest of the clergy? Where was everyone?

  “I’m going to go to the temple tonight and leave a message for them. Don’t worry. Right now, everyone is like rabbits. We’re sitting tight, quiet under the eyes of the hawk,” assured Sister Ketchkei. She sent a concerned look toward the door. After a moment she set her jaw and turned back to Priya and the other children.

  “Where’s Ildiko? I...want Ildiko,” Priya said, trying to be a grown up and keep the baby whine out of her voice.

  “I don’t know, kid. But from what I hear, she’s a real smart girl. She’ll know to keep her head down,” said Sister Ketchkei, patting Priya on the shoulder woodenly. Priya felt like maybe Sister Ketchkei didn’t really believe her reassurances. Priya bit her lip, trying to stop the tears that were threatening, hot behind her eyes.