by J. A. Comley
She kept walking forward, grateful to whomever it was that had attracted Mukori's attention for the moment. She needed to examine the Tree alone, to be sure of what her Nightstalker blood was telling her.
They were wrong. All those rumours and stories. The Tree was not evil, nor did it seem to take anything but light from the land directly beneath it. The feeling of wrongness that had so pressed down on her grew less and less the closer she got to the Tree. The waving tendrils and tinkling mirrors were soothing. Not in a bad way, like the song of the shimbak, but in a way that reassured her that Mukori had been right, and this was not a place of evil and death at all.
The Tree didn't feel wrong, it felt full to bursting with life, of suppressed energy.
The trunk and branches seemed to be made of black metal. This close, she thought her eyes could almost make out the veins and creases of bark, so perhaps it was some strange wood, after all.
Mirrors tinkled at her shoulder, and she turned from the Tree to watch them, looking hard, trying to figure out why Mukori had warned her against them.
They weren't like the mirrors she was used to seeing. They reflected nothing of the world around them. Instead, they shimmered darkly, something moving within their depths. The more she looked, the more she thought she could almost see what they hid, but then they’d sway and turn and the moment would be gone.
Curious, and reassured by the feeling coming from the Tree, Valana reached up a hand and clasped one of the smooth, teardrop mirrors, wanting to hold it still long enough to make out the image inside. The surface was colder than the ice she had once seen on Cosmaltia, despite the ever-present heat that stifled the air on Aurelia. She ran her thumb along the centre, trying to touch the shadow that seemed to move there. Someone's voice called out, but it was too far away to be intelligible.
Valana blinked.
She stood at the Ever-Spring. It was surrounded by elders and children, all waiting patiently, telling stories and trying to keep their minds from worrying about their warriors. She turned to find Karicha talking to her baby brother where he rested in the arms of her grandmother.
Valana's ears twitched, and she called out a warning. A group was approaching the spring, death and destruction in their minds. No one reacted to her cry, nor did they seem to hear the footfalls.
A twig snapped, and Karicha finally looked up. Her eyes swept the night, and then she went back to talking with the elder.
Valana shouted again and tried to grab Karicha, but her hands slid straight through the girl. Panic began to build in Valana's chest. No, she wasn't really here, she could do nothing to stop what she knew was coming.
Stop! I don't want to watch this!
She tried to remember how she had arrived here but could not. Her heart thundered, and her breaths grew short as the approaching demons stopped being cautious and neared the Ever-Spring with the confidence of cowards who know they have the upper hand in every way.
Valana tried to hide her face in her hands as Karicha realised their peril and stood, offering their assailants her surrender on behalf of the Kazori, but her hands seemed anchored to her sides, her eyes stuck wide open.
The vision blurred, faded, then jumped back into sharp focus, lancing into her mind painfully. Everything was burning. Innocents screamed and the elders fell trying to defend them. Valana screamed and screamed at the dark shadows that killed without honour or mercy. She tried to draw her weapons but found she carried none. She was stuck, helpless, as her people had been.
Then the vision was gone, bursting apart with enough force that Valana was certain her head had exploded, and she was dead.
“Open your eyes. Valana, please, open your eyes.” Mukori's voice found her, lost in the dark. She latched on to it eagerly, using it to set herself free.
Her eyes opened to a world on its side, but the only thing that really mattered was the shadowy group around her. She reeled onto her stomach and launched herself a safe distance away where she crouched, blades drawn, searching for Mukori. She'd be damned if she let the shadows take him, too.
“Easy, Valana, easy. You are safe now. It is over.”
Okano.
Slowly whatever magic had fogged her mind dissipated, and the shadows were once again lit by the moon. Mukori and Lerimo were in front of her, but both at a safe distance from her swords.
Okano was right behind her, and she turned to collapse into his arms, dropping her swords, trying to force the terrible images away.
“Damn it, Mukori. Why weren't you watching her?”
Valana tried to speak as Okano's voice filled with anger and Lerimo chided him for shouting at their Lord.
He held her tightly against his chest. His long hair spilt over his shoulder and tickled her face as he bent down to whisper in her ear.
“I am sorry I didn't warn you not to touch the mirrors. I thought Mukori had.” His voice was a gentle murmur, rumbling under her hands.
“It isn't his fault, Okano. He did warn me, more than once.”
“Then why—”
“My blood wasn’t giving me a warning. The mirrors, the tree, they don’t feel dangerous, but that—” she shuddered, keeping her head buried in his chest.
Okano huffed, and Valana was sure it was in frustration at her stupidity at not following Mukori’s warning. His deep voice rumbled against her ear after a moment.
“They show you your pain, your desires, your fears, anything in your past that might weaken you, make you doubt yourself. They’ll show all facets of the truth linked to your past, give you so many answers that your mind will struggle to bare it. The Lightless Tree nullifies all magic within in. The mirrors are there as a warning and a test. Those who do not accept all of themselves, those who are not worthy, have their mind broken, left in a state worse than death. Mukori is the only one who has passed the test, and only the innocent and those bound to Mukori can enter the Tree without the mirrors ensnaring them.” He pressed his head lightly to the top of hers. “Most won't even dare to try. I am so sorry you had to see that.”
She shifted her head, trying to see his face, see if his eyes held as much sorrow as his voice. She could guess easily enough what those mirrors would show him if he looked for too long.
Okano shifted too, looking down into her eyes. His gaze was steady but tight. He knew his own demons by name, and she was sure that if he chose to, he could beat the Tree's test, but that would require him to forgive himself for the death of his family. He was not ready for that. She would need time, too, before she could face her demons and not only survive, but win.
She shifted a little away from Okano and scooped up her weapons. “Thank you.”
“Do you forgive me for not telling you?”
“Of course. You thought I knew. It isn't your fault, either.”
He sighed softly and let her go. “I'd better go and tell Karicha that you'll be a little while, yet.” Okano turned to Mukori and dipped his head in a bow. “I apologise, my Lord.”
Mukori shifted his eyes from Valana to Okano. “Peace, Okano. You were not entirely wrong to reproach me, after all.”
Okano gave Mukori a tight nod then straightened and took his leave.
She watched him walk around the curve of the giant trunk, profoundly grateful that Karicha had not touched a mirror, or witnessed her experience.
“My deepest apologies,” Mukori said, coming closer.
Lerimo still trailed him, staff held ready. She eyed the staff for a moment. They were a rarity on Aurelia and the Galatian Order of Makhi kept the knowledge of how they were made well guarded.
Valana turned to Mukori, taking in his wary stance, and sheathed her blades, but Mukori still watched her closely, his eyes tight.
“I am fine now, really.” Valana managed to keep her voice steady, despite the disorienting pain that still flickered across her skull.
Mukori nodded slowly. “I believe you, but I know what those mirrors do better than anyone. I would feel better if you allowed Lerimo to t
ake a look. Please, Valana. The Tree's magic doesn't always cause immediate damage. If the seeds are there, Lerimo is very capable of finding them and stopping them from growing.”
She looked between them and then nodded. “Very well. Makhi Lerimo, you have my permission to search my mind.”
Lerimo looked to Mukori, who nodded as well.
Valana shut her eyes and tried not to fidget as the Makhi placed his hand on her shoulder and sent his mind forth. She purposefully ignored his presence in her mind, knowing from past experience that her Nightstalker blood allowed her to see what he was seeing, even though she would have no control over his actions. She kept her eyes on Mukori, unwilling to see those images again.
She felt Lerimo withdraw and looked down at the small man. He gave her a half smile and turned to Mukori.
“All is well, my Lord. There is nothing to cause concern.”
“Thank you, Lerimo,” Mukori said, closing the distance between himself and Valana. She smiled at how profoundly grateful he sounded.
He waited for Lerimo to step out of view, too, before he raised his hand and trailed his fingers across her cheeks, trapping some stray tears. “I knew you'd be unharmed. You are strong.”
Valana shrugged and wiped her face dry with the edge of her shirt. Being vulnerable around Mukori wasn't nearly as easy as it had been around Okano. Perhaps this was because she knew Okano had deep wounds, too, whereas Mukori always seemed strong, invulnerable.
“Forgive me. I thought my warning not to touch the leaves was enough. I see now I should have been more explicit in explaining the danger they present.”
Valana nearly laughed. For someone who liked to point out how well he already knew her, he hadn’t realised that she would put more faith in what her blood was telling her than a vague warning. She shook her head against the pain, trying to focus.
“How do I pass the Tree without being drawn in by the mirrors again? Okano said something about being bound to you?”
In response, Mukori drew a thin blade that always rode in an adorned sheath at his hip. “Yes. That is the only reliable way we have found. You bind yourself to me, and the Tree will leave you be, perhaps because I have passed the test.”
Valana eyed the blade, covered in ancient runes, then gasped. “Is that—”
“Yes, it is Blood Binder.”
Blood Binder, the legendary blade that Felantha had somehow convinced the Demilain to make for her, many thousands of years ago, so that she could bind the chosen of each tribe together, forming the first Conclave. She was the Mother of Tribes, the first, and only, great unifier Aurelia had seen. Now, it looked as if her long lost descendant was set on a course to do the same and more.
Mukori raised his left wrist and lightly slashed the ancient blade across it then looked to her in question. This was it. The point of no return. If she bound herself to Mukori now, her old life would be gone forever.
And a new life will begin, she thought, holding out her wrist to him, unable to think of a reason to refuse as her mind still struggled to catch up with reality after the vision of her village burning.
He drew the blade gently across her wrist without waiting for any further consent, the magically sharp edge slicing easily and with little pain. Sheathing it, he took her bleeding wrist and laid it across his own so that their blood mingled, becoming one.
Valana felt the pull of magic in her blood and knew that now she couldn’t remove her wrist from his even if she wanted to. Some small part of her suddenly screamed out that this was all happening too quickly, with no real time to think.
I guess I must trust him, after all.
“Do you, Valana, swear that you will always serve peace and order?”
“I swear.”
“Do you swear to do all that is necessary to stop chaos, even should the cost be high?”
Valana swallowed hard, thinking of her people and the nightmare images she'd just witnessed. “I swear.”
“Do you swear to set aside all former ties, grudges, and personal desires?”
Memories of a battlefield filled with Kazori dead fuelled the anger in her heart. She looked into Mukori’s eyes and felt the fire stutter. His eyes were clear. Clear of hate, fear, and anger. His fire burned only for a world of peace. She would force hers to do the same. “I swear.”
Mukori held her eyes a moment longer, and Valana waited with bated breath for the next question.
“Then to that oath I bind you. We are now bound together, Valana, Protector of the Unseen Hand, daughter of the Kazori, Nightstalker of pure blood and Champion of Moon Lake.”
She felt the magic tingle through their blood then settle somewhere in the back of her mind, an unbreakable bond to her promises.
She grinned at him as he released her arm. “What, no oaths of fealty or obedience?” She kept her voice light even as she felt profoundly grateful that that oath had not been made among the others.
Mukori shook his head, quick eyes reading her face. “I told you, I am a leader because there must be one, and I was ready made. But I don't want another sycophant. You fight for peace and order, not for me.”
Her smile softened, and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think I will be happy to do both, Mukori, Lord of the Unseen Hand, son of Hipotarali, son of the Cyrali, descendent of Felantha, and the Voice of Order.”
Mukori burst out laughing. “The Demilain know well that I have never been hailed with such honour. I thank you, but please, please, never do that again.”
She kissed him quickly on the cheek. “All right. So tell me, how do we get into this accursed Tree?”
Mukori's eyes filled with desire, then he blew out a heavy breath and took her hand, leading the way around the trunk. “We use the door, of course.”
While the mirrors still tinkled ominously, Valana was able to ignore them and focus on the man who lead her. Unlike before, their song and shadowy images did not seem to draw her to them.
“The Tree has a door?”
Mukori glanced back at her as they rounded the trunk. “I told you, the Tree is not what it first appears to be.”
They stopped and turned to face the trunk. An irregular triangle stood open, visible from the darkness of the trunk only by the lines of glowing runes making its edges.
“What does it say?”
“It is a warning that magic is nullified inside. If you were a being of pure magic, like the Demilain, to enter the Tree would be death. In your case, it will just be a little uncomfortable.”
He turned to face her, his face serious. “Once we step inside, the Tree's magic will take effect. I need you to trust me and not panic. I am told that the experience can be a little unnerving. Just keep in mind that the Tree is merely cloaking your powers, and that they will return as soon as you step outside again.”
Valana nodded, her mouth too dry for speech, not liking the sound of what was coming.
Mukori squeezed her hand and led the way through the opening.
She shut her eyes just over the threshold, trying hard not to give in to the urge to run. She felt like she had been bound in iron from head to toe, and her powers screamed out against the pressure in her mind. Then the feeling of being smothered vanished, and she felt emptied of everything she was, weak and vulnerable. Valana only just managed to contain her panic long enough to release Mukori's hand and step backwards to the outside again.
She breathed in a huge sigh of relief as her powers flooded through her. Okano was right. That had felt nothing like being Bound. When you are Bound, you can still feel your powers, you just can't access them, can’t step into them and let them course through your blood. She steeled herself and stepped back through, keeping her eyes tightly shut. This experience was more like how she imagined being Silenced would feel like, where your powers are hidden entirely from your detection. As the pressure vanished, so did her connection to her powers. It was like losing a vital part of herself. Uncomfortable didn't cover it. Her mind calmed a little as she realised that if
she pushed hard, she was still aware of the glow filling her mind. It just seemed too far away to reach. She tried to draw some comfort from that.
Mukori raised a hand and rubbed her arm soothingly. “It takes some getting used to. How long depends on each individual.”
She opened one eye to see him, truly hating the idea of ever becoming used to not feeling her powers connected to herself.
He conceded a nod to her glare. “I understand, but I would not change it, even if I could. It makes us all equal. No one is above anyone else in here.”
“Except for you, Lord Mukori,” she said, stressing his title and shutting her eye again. The feeling, or lack thereof, was still causing spikes of panic.
“Not in any true sense. There has to be someone to guide us. I was chosen. But you, or any other here, make your own decisions. My commands do not have to simply be obeyed. Yes, it functions better if my orders are followed, but I encourage all my followers to ask questions, to be happy with what they are asked to do. Being here helps. In here, no one is above anyone by the luck of being born gifted. Here, we are all the same. It mirrors my view of how the world should be. People have important positions because they earn them, not because they happen to have magic.”
Mukori moved closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body all along the length of hers. “Now please, open your eyes so that I can show you the reality of the Lightless Tree.”
Valana complied, telling herself that no matter how wrong it felt, she had promised to be here, to Protect and serve Mukori and the Unseen Hand. She had chosen to come to this place and to follow the man in front her. A choice she had sealed with a blood bond that could never be broken.
Valana opened her eyes, unsure of what to expect. He stood with his back to the inside of the Tree, his hands held out to her. His face was illuminated by thin strands of bioluminescent vines that grew along the walls of the short, irregular tunnel they were in. She almost laughed at the look on Mukori's face. He looked like a child on their way to their first ever Warrior Games at Moon Lake, all suppressed excitement and exuberant energy. The only thing he was missing was the slight tinge of nervousness or uncertainty.