Children of Ambros

by Katy Winter

  "Tell me," she beseeched, "what I seek."

  "You'll know when you find it, lad. Every step of the way is defined for you. You just have to tread the path as you come to it."

  Autoc saw the uncertain expression on Chlorien's face, carefully swung her so that she looked directly up at him, put a hand under the pointed chin and gently lifted her head. "Look at me, Chlorien," he instructed. Chlorien obeyed him, as she always did. "I want you to listen to me, child, and remember all you've learned over the cycles. You must have belief in yourself and faith in what you've become. I have, Chlorien. My trust in you is unshakeable and I have faith in the young one you are and in what you'll be. Hold to that.

  What you confront won't be easy, little one, but you'll succeed and go beyond the experience because you'll want to. Nor are you entirely alone. How could you be, as loved as you are? You may think what you do is for me or for others, child, but it is for yourself, Chlorien. Never, little one, let fear be your guide. Be true to yourself and that'll act like a beacon for you, and hold, too, to what you learned as a canas, about strength within, that ensures survival. You overcame fears then and also did the same in the desert, so you know, deep inside, that you can go beyond what immediately confronts you and overcome it.

  And don't forget one vital thing, little one - I care, Chlorien, very deeply, and know you for what you truly are, my feelings unconditional."

  Autoc let go her chin, and, bending his head, kissed the dark curls that'd grown noticeably longer over the last cycle. Chlorien clung to him with every ounce of strength she possessed.

  "I'll come back to you, Father," she whispered, a dry sob in her voice. "Wait for me."

  "Always, little one. Have courage. Know I'm always within and one with you."

  ~~~

  Chlorien took a tentative step forward through the water, then another and another. She turned back to her father, but the mage wasn't there. Nothing existed, other than swirling grey mist. She knew she couldn't go back, because there was nothing to go back to.

  Chlorien soon left the water, noticing, as she trod stony ground, that the mountains that seemed so close had receded far into the distance. She seemed to walk for a very long time, sometimes ploughing through sudden and unexpected water, or else stumbling over stones and boulders that came from nowhere to trip her. Every step she took made the mountains drift farther from her. Something made her keep going. She wondered if it was stubbornness that drove her, or an unwillingness to be so easily defeated.

  She thought of the desert as she walked and how alone she'd been then. In her mind she saw Choja and Jochoh and her steps lightened, though she didn't know why she thought of them. It was a cycle since they'd left the desert and much had happened in between, Chlorien now nearly seventeen cycles. While she walked, she mused, but she got few answers to questions that came into her mind in rapid succession.

  She decided to keep moving until dark, but, as the hours passed, she realised that time as she knew it didn't exist here and there was no night. Panic gripped her until she thought of the mage and what he'd said. It calmed her. She stopped thoughtfully. She sensibly sat on a bed of stones and looked around, thinking while she rested that she expended a lot of energy travelling in her present form. It would, she reflected, make more sense to travel in another shape. Immediately she translated into a small blue larkbill with a tiny pouch strapped across its back.

  She flew for mile after mile, finally alighting tiredly on the fork of a dead tree from where she could see the peaks ever distant. She knew she could fly no further, so glided to the ground and resumed her own form. As she did, a figure coalesced to form, slightly insubstantially, in front of her. She stood breathless with fright, momentarily so confused she wasn't sure what she saw and had to blink rapidly several times. That didn't help her decide whether the man facing her was real or merely an image. He stood very tall. His head was hairless, he was thin-lipped and his eyes didn't exist. He wore a long, dark robe.

  Chlorien tried to scream, but when the figure raised a hand, she was paralysed by the sense of his power and stood motionless, the sound about to be uttered, dead in her throat. As she waited, words came into her mind, though she noticed the man's lips didn't move.

  "You think to escape me, daughter, do you? How foolish!"

  "Daughter?" she whispered, her eyes huge, black and disbelieving.

  "Didn't they tell you I'm your father?" Dumbly, she shook her head. "You're blessed to be the daughter of a great mage, girl. Come to me and learn who I am."

  Unwillingly, Chlorien was drawn towards the figure who beckoned her so imperiously. She struggled to resist by desperately trying to go backwards, every fibre of her being telling her not to be near this man. His power seemed to absorb her quite slowly and inexorably.

  "I'm not your daughter," she screamed at him defiantly.

  The man's hold on her loosened briefly and she was allowed to stand still while the figure studied her. A cold laugh echoed in her mind and she put up hands to her head to stop it. It continued to echo in spite of her.

  "Aren't you then, Myme Chlo?" came the question that hung in her mind. "Then watch and learn, daughter!"

  A scene unfolded in front of her. It held her appalled and speechless as she saw her mother, pinned to a bed by the man who now faced her on Ice Isle, repeatedly raped with cruel pleasure.

  "Mam," wept Chlorien, tears dripping through her fingers. "Mam."

  The image altered to show Melas' maternity through the seasons, until the image stilled and focused on the birth of a child. The child's name was said aloud:

  "She is Myme Chlo." The image faded.

  "Now," came the cold, amused voice in her mind. "Who are you, Myme Chlo?" Chlorien made no effort to move, because her mind reeled with shock.

  "I am who I am," she whispered brokenly.

  "You're mine, daughter. Who am I?"

  "I don't know," she mumbled. The empty eye sockets seemed to devour her piece by piece.

  "Look at me, child, and know who created you. Know your father, Myme Chlo!"

  Chlorien stared into the sockets, then recoiled with revulsion at the darkness she saw there and at the intensity of malevolence that reached out to her. She was shown a part of herself in the man who'd created her. She shuddered.

  "No," she whispered, putting up a hand. "No, I won't join you."

  "Child, you're part of my body and belong with me. I can see darkness in you because we're all part dark, part light. Think what I could teach you, daughter! Just think of it!" Chlorien clenched her teeth and refused to listen, but the voice wouldn't leave her mind. "Let me show you what we could be, child," came the soft whisper in her mind.

  Still resisting, she was swept along on a vortex of power and energy. It played with one reality after another, showed her what power and wealth could be hers for the taking, saw that such untrammelled power could be all-embracing and that she could dominate, not just Ambros, but worlds far and beyond.

  She felt herself helplessly merge with the dominant being who now held her so absolutely and played with her, as if she was already his. Approaching oneness with him, and sensing that to fight was the ultimate futility, Chlorien's chaotic mind unexpectedly thought of the scholar, his words caught her and she held to them without being aware of it. She heard them again, loudly and distinctly.

  "Have faith in what you've become. I have faith in the young one you are."

  Suddenly, Chlorien heard herself repeatedly scream the words out loud. She heard the snarl in her mind, as the all-consuming oneness split apart. She drifted alone and bewildered in a huge empty space that was without shape or texture. The man's voice in her mind still held her.

  "Come when I command you, daughter. You'll be mine in the end." Chlorien's throat felt raw.

  "I reject you!" she screamed at him hoarsely. "I reject you as my father. I'm who I've become. You can't touch me."

  She found herself back below the bare-branched tree, the slightly hazy figure in fro
nt of her arrogant, his gaze at her contemptuous.

  "They've taught you well, daughter, I grant them that." The voice hissed in her mind. "But it won't save you."

  When Chlorien looked up, the figure was gone.

  ~~~

  Pitiably trembling, Chlorien sank to the ground. Terror and despair took her. She suffered hours of torment, her grief and self-loathing keeping her helpless. She'd no idea how long she stayed this way. She only knew, as time passed, that she had to accept who she was before she could go any further. She clambered unsteadily to her feet and spoke aloud in a hard voice.

  "I acknowledge you as the man who raped my Mam. You fathered me, but you aren't my father. Another answers to that to me. I'm my mother's child, not yours." Her eyes filling with tears, Chlorien turned to the peaks that were closer and far less forbidding than they'd been. "I'm Chlorien," she called out in a stronger voice. "It's as Chlorien I come, not as the daughter of Malekim." Her voice broke. She waited, then took a step forward. She bent her head and kept moving.

  Again she walked for many hours, unaware of time that now seemed immaterial. She translated often as time passed, but numb, and caring nothing of her surroundings, she just moved automatically in the direction of the peaks, ate mechanically because she knew that she must, but constantly shivered with profound shock and cold.

  After a while she came to a cave that offered shelter and comfort of a sort. She crouched inside it, trying to ease aching muscles and conscious she felt empty of emotion. It warred with utter physical exhaustion. At last Chlorien fell deeply asleep, a small fur from her pack pulled firmly around her.

  She'd no idea how long she slept. She woke to the figure of a woman who stood still only a few steps from her. Chlorien stumbled to her feet, her hand out warding off the image and her mouth open on a sob of fear, but the woman not moving, nor uttering threatening words, slightly reassured her. She sank back on the ground, trying to gather disordered thoughts. She heard Autoc's words and they calmed her.

  "Never let fear be your guide."

  Then she saw his face in her mind as he smiled gently down at her and this brought waves of overwhelming comfort that she clung to, so it was only a small sob she gave as she looked over at the woman.

  "Myme Chlo," the woman said. He voice was warm and soothing. Chlorien looked up, her violet eyes as huge as the deep green eyes that stared down at her. "Do you know who you are, child?"

  "I do now," whispered Chlorien, tears welling and dripping down her cheeks.

  "I'm so sorry, Myme Chlo. I didn't know this would happen. Do you acknowledge who you are?"

  "I have no choice." Chlorien gave a deeper sob. Tears poured down her face to cascade from her chin. The woman sat in front of the weeping girl and, leaning forward, wiped the tears as they fell.

  "Why do you cry, child? You're still the Myme Chlo of not so long ago." Chlorien's head drooped.

  "I'm a child of the dark, aren't I? I remember Father's lessons very well." Chlorien was unaware of her use of the word `father' concerning Autoc, but it brought a smile to the woman's eyes.

  "We're all light and dark, some of us more dark by our actions than we realised, little one. You're less dark than most." The term `little one' brought up the tear-stained face.

  "Do you know Father?" Chlorien asked anxiously. The woman nodded and saw an easing of tense shoulders. "Are you a child of the dark, too?" The woman sat beside Chlorien and drawing her close, put an arm round her.

  "In a sense, child, I could be thought that, though my action was unwitting. It's said often one only realises the enormity of a simple-seeming act after one's taken it. So it was with me. What I did, with another, led to your being here today, Myme Chlo. In a sense you're one instrument that may, I pray, right the wrong done. Time will tell, child, but one step at a time." The woman gave a soft sigh. Gently she turned Chlorien's head so their eyes met. "Come with me, little one, and see what I have to show you."

  Chlorien drowned in eyes that drew her forward, until she saw herself stand, a bystander, as a scene unfolded in front of her. Chlorien saw a dragon land. She watched a tall, auburn-headed man, his hair streaked with white, climb down the dragon's side, commune briefly, then stride away to enter a dell. Chlorien felt he was vaguely familiar. Chlorien saw the woman, who was with her now, sitting by a stream, her long curly black hair unplaited and a welcoming smile in her eyes when she saw the man approach.

  Chlorien saw the pair mate with love and passion, before the scene changed, she saw the woman give birth and die, then watched, fascinated, as dryads took the infant to a city she knew was Ortok. She wanted to cry out that what she wanted most was to go home to all those she'd loved and lost. She wept, but didn't feel the tears. She watched the child grow to a girl and then to the young woman Chlorien knew was her mother. Suddenly she blinked rapidly and bent her head, unwilling to speak. The woman beside her stroked her cheek.

  "You resemble me very closely, don't you, Myme Chlo?"

  "I think so," mumbled Chlorien, scarcely audibly.

  "But you have Bene's eyes, haven't you?" Chlorien looked up, bewildered.

  "Bene?"

  "The tall white-haired man who's your greatsire, child. Have you forgotten him? Your mother had his violet eyes and so have you." Chlorien was lost in thought for a long time and then when she spoke, it was with awe.

  "Bene spoke to me before I was born," she whispered. "He called to me to come and also told me I was wanted, would be cherished and also fully accepted. Now I understand what he meant. He waited for me. He loved me."

  "So did your mother, little one." Chlorien bent her head again.

  "How could she? I'm the result of rape."

  "Myme Chlo, your mother would've loved you whoever you were, though she always believed you were Alfar's daughter. Indeed, if it's of any consolation, child, you bear no resemblance to the man who conceived you. In an odd way, I see Melas and your greatsire. You're very like your brothers and also very like me."

  "Why was your loving my greatsire so wrong?" Chlorien asked in a small voice.

  "It was an inter-species coupling forbidden long ago. Neither Bene nor I had any idea of the harm we'd done. Such matings were always sterile, so we'd no comprehension how dire the results would be."

  "How are you different from my greatsire?" queried Chlorien, tired and confused.

  "I was a nymph, little one, who chose to live on Ambros rather than go to Yarilo as an initiate. Your greatsire is the Archmage of Yarilo. Let me tell you about Yarilo and the battle of the Second Age. Do you know anything of it?"

  "Some things," murmured Chlorien, settling back into Cynthas' arms. "Father taught me thoroughly."

  "Then I'll put what Bene and I did into a new perspective for you. Listen, child."

  And Chlorien did, lulled by the quiet, gentle voice that talked long with her. She said nothing and kept quite still, only asking when the nymph finished speaking,

  "Is that why that man hurt Mam so much? Was it to hurt my greatsire?"

  "That's so, child. I know the maintenance of Ambrosian balance is a concept difficult to grasp, young as you are, but all you need understand is that it gave Malekim a chance to alter, in the subtlest way, what would be."

  "What's that?"

  "You tell me, little one. What's the opposite of Ambrosian balance? What happens if it's tilted even slightly?"

  "The equilibrium's lost."

  "And?"

  "Chaos comes," whispered Chlorien, burying her head in Cynthas' chest. "He wouldn't do that, would he?"

  "He wishes to hurt, Myme Chlo. People who wish to hurt others often don't care how they do it, provided they inflict the hurt. So it is with the mage Malekim."

  "Is he all evil?" came the wistful question. A hand touched her hair.

  "Only you can answer that, little one," was the quiet reply. Chlorien shivered.

  "He fathered me, didn't he?" The nymph heard the desperate appeal for denial, but sadly nodded.

  "I'm so
sad, child, for what we've done to you and yours. I hope one day you'll have it in your heart to forgive Bene and me."

  ~~~

  As if the woman had never been, Chlorien found herself alone. She rose, brushed at cheeks still damp and sniffed several times. When she went outside the cave, she was completely disoriented. The peaks were nearer. She felt their dominating presence as they soared beyond her and studied them incuriously, her brain weary yet seething in a way that refused her rest.

  She ate absently before she walked again. She let the isle envelop her as she once let a desert absorb her. She became, again, a grain of sand in a vast desert, undergoing the experience there and with the canas pack with more urgency and poignancy. She was suddenly painfully aware how small she was, how insignificant and how unnecessary to existence. It was a moment of maturity and understanding of self and Chlorien knew she could survive, because she had learned about inner strength and resilience. She was alone, yet no longer lonely. She felt inwardly stronger, the lessons learned before she came to Ice Isle coming back to mind and letting her free to remember as she walked.

  She went back to Ortok. She walked with Lian. She walked through the forest with the scholar who let her come to terms with herself - she saw that he cared for her as much as anyone ever had in her life. She went further back again, to her birth and to the old man who'd been with her from conception. Her mind shied from that, even though she was learning to accept that pain was part of life and that it could never be changed. She moved slowly, with a hand to her mouth, anguish sometimes showing in eyes that looked blankly ahead.

  She thought again of the scholar. The warmth that flowed through her when she did helped her to confront the memory of Queeb that swept over her. She refused to give in to the fear that always gripped her in the henchman's presence, mentally dispassionately assessed him, then deliberately dismissed the memory of him. It gave her a measure of strength she'd not felt before and her back straightened. Sense returned to eyes that still shone like obsidian.

  She saw Jaim and responded with a sad inward smile to the twinkle in the tawny eyes that always looked omniscient. She passed on from him to Choja and Jochoh, who rode alone in the desert. She felt close to them, but knew they could neither sense nor see her.