The Darkling Hills

by Lori Martin

  “Oh yes, he and Carden are particularly good friends.”

  “Oh?” Dalleena was taken aback. She inspected Rendell’s younger brother severely. She knew, of course, that he was something of a problem, and that his presentation would surprise Rendell as much as anyone. Still, it would solve at least part of the problem, and she couldn’t fault him on his choice of relatives. But why was he hand-in-glove with Carden, of all people? Something was wrong with it.

  Temhas met her eyes coolly and waited. In actuality she was hardly expected to refuse him or anyone else.

  “I saw your father when he left for Mendale,” the relas said. “A noble man and ambassador.”

  Temhas bowed again and told her he was honored.

  “As are we,” Dalleena said, getting back to formula. “Welcome to Marlos-An, Temhas son of Boessus and of Meyna. We are delighted to have you at court.”

  After the ceremony she picked without interest at her supper, chatting with a minimum of politeness with the councilors. The new court members were excited at the arrival of the king. Raynii had reflected again, giving himself the lecture on the duties and responsibilities of a ruler that he had often given Dalleena as a child. It had been effective then; it was effective now, and he came to dine with a guilty conscience. He spoke with animation and enthusiasm to the councilors. Everyone was content. A glance down the table, however, showed him that his daughter was tired. She looked a little out of spirits, perhaps missing her mother – Queen Ayenna was still on the Fourth Hill. He made a point of accompanying Dalleena to her rooms afterward, but she was quiet and uncommunicative. The king sighed and kissed her good even’, wishing for his wife. As the page conducted him with a torch to his own apartments he began to write another letter to his wife in his head, asking her to return to Marlos-An. He knew he would not have it sent. They were both doing what they had to do.

  Dalleena accepted Adrell’s ministrations without a word, and soon found herself disrobed and in bed. Though it had become warmer, a fire was still needed at night. It threw red flickers up the wall, crackling. Adrell withdrew, taking her candle. Dalleena was left alone with the silence.

  She stared up in darkness at the ceiling, listening to her own breathing flooding in and out of her chest. Insomnia was a new companion, one who now visited her regularly. A mind formerly at peace with itself now took up, every night, the same round of useless speculation: a toiling animal chained to a post, treading the same ground over and over in the same field. It began with Rendell and ended with Mother Nialia, or it began with Nialia and ended with Rendell. Two points at each end of the same road.

  The chained thought took its first step onto the monotonous ground, and kicked up a new stone from the soil. Temhas. Temhas presented by Sillus. Temhas a friend of Carden. How had that been? It was almost certainly a new connection; Rendell did not know of it, and the king was careful to watch Sillus’s friends. Which plot did it aid? Sillus’s most important project now was to force her into marrying Carden. But how could he force her to do anything? She was the heir and relas; she answered only to her parents. And Temhas did not seem to fit into the scheme. Perhaps he really had just met Carden and they had hit it off. I supposed Carden must be attractive to somebody, she thought. But Temhas looks as if he has more wits about him.

  Temhas – Rendell’s brother. They were staying away from each other; Rendell’s mild attempts to find out where his brother spent his days usually failed. Just as well. If Rendell knew where Temhas was, then Temhas might very well know where Rendell was, and that would be disaster. Temhas and Sillus ... welcome to court ...

  On the very verge her tired mind veered away, and she missed it. The threads of what might have been, could have been, if she had only seen it, snapped and broke, falling free of the woven cloth. No trace was left in the pattern.

  The goddess hovered on the fringes of the room, hidden in the dark corners. Dalleena closed her eyes, trying to empty herself for the seeing. Would it come, finally? Too long without. Too long a silence. Not before like this, never like this –

  She remembered with longing the seeings of her girlhood, when the divine voice was clear. I want thee as mine own, thou shalt become my follower ... yes, my Mother, I come, I come. Her father’s voice, in anger: “She’s too young!” Her own: “I must.” A true-chosen – no one could refuse the gift. The old woman’s wrinkled face, the love in the smile. “Welcome to the Mother’s house. It will always be your home.” And so it had been.

  Easy prophecies: a good harvest, clear rain, the queen will win over the council. Sorrow a little harder to say, but necessary. Sea storms, the fishermen will die – no catches – but which nets break? Get them off the rocks. Send the girl home; she’ll never bring the child to birth. Don’t ride today, Mother – there’s something wrong with the horse. And after, they had to destroy it ...

  An early spring.

  I promised, I gave you my will. Only tell me your purpose – tell me what you want of me. Of Rendell. Nialian, Armasii. Separate gifts. Past, present, and to come, strength within, knowledge without. Combine them and they are immortal. But even the old priestess would die – something to teach our people? Some new path to follow, a thing to learn. But they would not follow such leadership. And what of the king? He could work with the Armasii, he could work with Inama. Why was he not chosen? “Evil signs. They say the altar has turned black, the villagers are dreaming.” Why was he not chosen?

  All of her life had been ordered and secure. Born royal and heir, no question of what she would do or become; born true-chosen, she was under the goddess’s care. Beloved by her parents and her people, who had waited so long for her, how easy to feel beloved by the gods as well. The only sparks the flaming of her own burning center. Bank it down if you would, it springs up elsewhere.

  Dalleena sat straight up, the chain broken. Slowly the animal lifts its head, slowly it pushes forward. Elsewhere – elsewhere – the spirit she had tamed to politics and to duty, slumbering long hours through the councils, reined in among her subjects. She begs to see you – a petition. One moment, relas, may I speak with you? I have to ask – the Second’s feeling slighted, no royal visit in months. Relas, will the king be needing a new man? I want to work at court. Relas, has the queen heard our petition? The crop is almost in. Relas, I know how busy the royals your parents are, but if you’d only hear my son – Relas! Relas! Relas! Elsewhere. She had screamed and screamed as a baby, Ayenna often said, and driven the nurses frantic. Climbing and running. I won’t come down, I won’t. I don’t like it. I don’t want to do that. I want this – I want this. “Royals think only of what their subjects want.” Yes, Father.

  But she still wanted. It had not been conquered, after all. Now the animal has found itself, a little faster, now it runs. Now it feels its freedom. I want Rendell –

  Dalleena started to cry. Harsh tearing sobs grated up through her throat into the waiting air. It was not the goddess she had been afraid to face, but herself. I want Rendell. Useless to push away the blame, useless to say she was only being obedient. She could not cry, in the face of Nialia’s law, “It is Nialia’s will!” It might be so. It might be the divine voice still speaking – but it made no difference.

  She would sin anyway.

  No matter what the call or the plans of the goddess, she would still commit the sin. I love Rendell. I will have him. I will have him, if he loves me.

  The last log on the fire began to die, burning first a little brighter. When its embers had faded, Dalleena’s tears had begun to dry on her cheeks. She sat, empty and soundless. Wrapped in her misery and defiance, she did not feel the warning. The smoke might have been from the passing fire, and the voices an echo of her own weeping.

  Too suddenly the goddess came to her, slashing. She cried out and almost struggled: then joy seized her. She was flung back upon the bed, arms outstretched, the call clear and clarion. Now in sin, she was accepting. “You cannot hide behind the immortals,” Inama told the novices. “The
y will hide behind you. They will use you.” And you will pay the price.

  She sank into the pillows. Her vision did not clear until daybreak, when the outer glow was dim compared to the inner light.

  In the dream the face of the dark-haired girl was turned from him. Still he followed her, wrapped in his green cloak, the only visible color in the mists and fog of the spirit world. She beckoned him on into darkness, and yet he followed. The blackness came up all around him, and he stopped, afraid. Ahead, her pale hand motioned him forward. He stepped out in blind faith. Instantly he was falling, falling to the depths, and he knew he would die, he knew he would strike the hard unyielding ground; he despaired. He clutched at the air. Suddenly cold water enveloped him. He had landed in a river. He swam to the surface, and breathed in safety.

  A hail of pebbles came through the open window and startled Rendell from sleep. He rose and peered out. A lone figure motioned to him to come.

  Uncertain whether Temhas was in the house, he dressed softly and swiftly. The side door creaked a little, but he opened it with care. It occurred to him that he might be aiding in his own murder with such precautions, but when he approached the figure he whispered.

  “What do you wish?”

  “She sent me for you,” the figure said, and pushed back its cloak. Once before she had said it, out in the open where many could see them, though none were near enough to hear.

  “Lilli. What is it?”

  “I started before Sunset Rites,” she said tonelessly. “You’d better hurry. She said it has to be tonight.”

  “Is she ill, is she hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Then what –”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know! Just go, can’t you, and stop asking questions! My horse – it’s her horse – it’s tied up on the edge of the road. Take him.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I’ll stay here and wait for you. Bring a fresh horse for me in the morning. The servants are gone?”

  “Yes, but if you go to the guestrooms you’ll be too near my brother’s apartments. Go straight up the left staircase into mine.”

  Lilli slipped into the house and left him in bewilderment. He forced himself not to speculate on what had happened. Better to find the horse, and go.

  But their caution had been misplaced. Temhas had been returning to the house through the garden when he saw Lilli fling her stones. For once without intending to he had caught his brother out. The wine he had been drinking with Carden was muddling his thoughts, but he still had the wits to stay silent. Once on horseback Rendell was beyond him; he crept up the stairs, and stood watching Lilli sleep.

  Rendell rode the beautiful black quietly past the estates, then pushed it swiftly through remoter areas. He began his crossing of the valley with care, taking the fork toward the palace. How he would approach and enter Marlos-An unchallenged remained to be seen. Was there a plan? Lilli had said nothing. She had looked angry.

  A half-moon was rising, giving him barely enough light to follow the path. His body had been startled from a deep sleep, but the necessity of moving with soft speed through the dark aroused him. By mid-valley his nerves were on edge.

  The palace came into sight, a dark brooding shape beneath the night sky. He pulled the tired horse up for a moment, considering it. Once they had ventured almost this close to it, wandering in the royal orchards, empty in the winter. On impulse he turned toward them.

  He had chosen correctly. As he came past the third cluster of trees into a clearing he saw her, waiting patiently and without doubting. He dismounted and came closer.

  Her hair was held by Maenyi, god of the moon. It shimmered with an almost immortal glow down her back and over her shoulders, bathing her in radiance, a cloud of sparkles in the midnight. She smiled up at him, and said his name.

  “Is something wrong?” He was whispering again, staring.

  “It is wrong,” she said, her eyes running over his face and filled with something he could not recognize. “It’s wrong inside of me. But it makes no difference. Beyond that, it’s right.”

  “But – I don’t understand –”

  “Rendell. Listen to me.” She took both his hands in her own. He felt the small pain of her ring in his skin. There was a long moment; the loom paused in its motion. Then she said, “I love you.”

  His heart leaped in his chest; he closed his tongue on it. He said nothing.

  “Rendell?”

  Her robe of silk had fallen half off one shoulder. One glistening strand of hair slid over her throat down between her breasts. “You can’t,” he said.

  “It’s not loving you I can’t seem to do,” she said, and a deep laugh bubbled from her mouth. “I know – don’t look that way. I truly believe, I believe as a Nialian, that this is what the goddess wants. The law is hers; she gave it and can surely take it away if she wishes. Do you understand?”

  He looked at her face, the eyes wide and dark, down at their hands still intertwined, to the grass spreading out at their feet. An early spring. And an instantaneous one, begun and blooming in one night. Only the evening before they had still needed fires. Now the air was warm, an echo even of summer heat coming to him. A sweet scent invaded his nostrils from the trees, promising buds, promising life. Her cloak, unneeded in the warmth, was spread out carefully on the ground.

  “Yes,” he said as if he were speaking to the cloak. “I understand.”

  “But Rendell?” His eyes came back to her face. “It doesn’t change it for me. I would still do it.” Suddenly he saw that her eyes were filled with tears. “If it’s not what you wish – if it’s not what you want –”

  His hands tightened on hers; one slid up the silky sleeve and touched the softer flesh.

  The first kiss was hesitant, nervous and exploring, the second firm, the third intense. Her thigh brushed against his own. Rendell felt as if the flame of her hair had taken possession of his heart. In the darkness they slipped down, onto her cloak.

  Once before dawn they spoke.

  “ ‘Then thy love grow, stronger each year as the trees, and bear thee fruit.’ ” It was from the marriage ceremony.

  “There will be a child?”

  “Yes. I think there will be other nights for us, but it has been tonight. Tonight was for the child.”

  And Rendell heard the foretelling, and the sound of prophecy in her voice. And he knew her, and believed.

  CHAPTER 12

  –from the Book of the Gods

  In the hallways of the gods live the immortals, and many are the lesser sprites who serve them. And Nilsor, god of War and Anger, took to him a wife, and three were their children. Came Laissus first, god of Loyalty, and the daughter Faen, and the last was Theimon, who is called Envy. But in their house there was no peace, and between the brothers there was no love.

  And when it was time to take a wife, Theimon of Envy cut his brother, for though immortals do not die still do they bleed. And the face of Laissus was marked, as Theimon had intended, and his beauty spoiled before his father. For Nilsor was proud of his firstborn, wanting him to marry with Rena, goddess of love. But she would not now have him, and in his anger Nilsor cast Theimon Envy from him, and he wandered in the divine hallways alone.

  Laissus took then a wife, his own sister Faen, and they had children according to the ways of the gods. But Rena, goddess of Love, changed in the deep of her heart, and she consented then to take Theimon Envy and marry with him. And the son of their union was called Jealousy. A home they had, and the divine songs, in the hallways of the gods.

  Now Theimon could not be satisfied, for in his heart gnawed always the happiness of his brother, and he could find no peace. He went to Faen, the wife of his brother, the sister of both, and lay with her, for she was faithless to her husband. But Laissus knew it not, for he was Loyal in his heart. Came then Rena to him, the loving goddess, from whom none can hide their passion. And she said to him, “Look you, Loyal one, brother-in-marriage, for I tell you T
heimon my husband has no peace within his heart. Nightly does he slip away from me, even as the place beside you is empty, while you sleep. For Faen your wife is faithless, and so do they meet.”

  Laissus cried aloud, and his grief was heard by all of the heavens. He searched among the hallways of divinity until he found his father. The god of Anger heard the tale, and his rage shook the very air, for he had cast Theimon out to live alone. The blood ran like new fire in his immortal veins and drove his fury before it. So did it start, the great division, as he rose up against his son.

  And there was war among the gods.

  Nilsor, god of Anger and War, rose up and called to arms, a hunter looking for his kill. With him rose Laissus and his children, and Faen his wife, faithless again to a brother. Then Simsas rose, and his brother Reulas, for always are the Twain together, and rose also winged Wintern, to drive Envy out. But Rena of Love did cling to her husband, and support him, and thus did Theimon have the support of her kin: her mother Ditta, goddess of Joy, and Heila of the harvest, and Ferra of the fields. So they divided, god against god, divinity against divinity. They cut each other, and bled, and the burning rose among the heavens, but still they could not die, and none it seemed could win. And war raged.

  Ditta of Joy sent out her arrows, skimming through the air, and winged Wintern pursued and caught them before they could strike. And Simsas the musician blew his horn to march, and Reulas his brother sang the words of the battle song. Theimon Envy sent out his blackness, curses raining down from the clouds. But his father Nilsor laughed, for he delighted in War, and the smell of fiery blood. And the walls fell, and the homes of the immortals were dust, and the sprites fled in fear.

  Now Proseras divine king knew not of it, for he had been upon the Hills, keeping watch among his people. When next he came to his hallways he found the sprites had gone, they who made the fish of the seas and the birds of the air for his pleasure, for they were frightened. And he heard the sounds of Nilsor and his pleasure, and saw the sights of destruction, and his grave face was graver still. Nialia his wife, queen of all, came to him. The mother of Fate watched the burning heavens, and would not fight, saying, “There is no Wisdom here.” But now the god was returned, and she said to him, “Proseras, wise husband! See here is god against god, divinity against divinity. They cut one another and bleed, and the burning rises, and still they do not die, and none it seems can win.”