Girl of Myth and Legend

by Giselle Simlett

  The cold breeze pushes against me, and I wrap my arms around my body. I start to feel nervous. So far, with the exception of turning into a glow stick and seeing a vision of chaos and then stepping into another world, I’ve been slowly integrated into the Chosen world. OK, so maybe not slowly, but Dad, Harriad and O’Sah have made sure that I’m not too disconcerted by this sudden change in my usually mundane life.

  Now, though, now I’m so close to this new life that it feels like it might be too immense. I’ve ignored the truth of being a Chosen in favour of all the benefits of being one, but as I move further into the mountain, I begin to think: Can I do this? Can I be a Chosen? A Pulsar? Do I belong here?

  There is nothing ahead of me but a clouded path with no real or certain destination.

  Then, like a curtain lifting, my vision is filled with yellow and green and gold, and it’s no longer darkness that is ahead of me, but something of beauty, an ancient and surreal beauty.

  Standing on opposite sides of the mountain are two statues, one female and one male, both swathed in stone robes.

  ‘I didn’t know your jaw could drop so wide,’ laughs Dad.

  ‘It’s… it’s…’ I stutter.

  ‘Magnificent?’

  ‘Bloody huge!’

  ‘Well, there’s that, too.’

  ‘So you see it, too. Good. I’m not losing my mind.’

  ‘No, you’re not. I told you about stargods, didn’t I?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Oh. Well, stargods are like… like the Greek gods. Yes, like them. It’s not the same as in the human realm, though, where many people don’t even believe in a god. In Duwyn, most people do.’

  I nod, continuing to gawp.

  ‘And as for these two,’ says Dad. ‘Meet the twins Kiu and Kau, stargods of defence. See how they both hold shields but no swords? That’s because they’re also more informally known as stargods of peace. They’re defenders of all temples and places of worship.’

  Besides ‘wow’, ‘OK’ is my only other offer at a comprehensible response.

  Below the statues, in the distance, are several temples rooted to flat land. Snow encompasses the soft, rolling hills, and drifts lazily through the cold air, past the temples and abundant greenery, and seems to be something more to me in this moment than just snow, part of magic itself descending on us.

  The furthest temple draws my attention; like a prized jewel set in a land of white, it is perched on a hill above all the others, glinting like gold under a stream of sunlight. Its holiness awakens awe in me, and such unbelonging enfolds me. O’Sah tells me that’s where I will be staying, and I bite my lip. It’s like when you walk into a restaurant or a shop and everything is fancy and everyone there is fancy, and you’re wearing shorts with a secret stain on the back. You’re so out of place, and you know it and they know it, so you want to get out as quickly as you can, but it’s too late and no one says anything, and you have to stay until you’ve eaten the food or browsed the items as if you could afford them. When I look at the temple and then at the Thrones wearing beautiful robes, and then look at myself wearing a duffle coat and trainers, I feel exactly like that—that I do not belong. Everyone here probably knows it, and everyone here is probably disappointed that the first Pulsar in forever is some ordinary kid with nothing exceptional about her.

  We have to cross a descending bridge to get to the temples, and though heights have never been a cause for a freak out, as I look down down down to the chasm below us, I try to hurry across. I practically leap off the bridge before Harriad stops me.

  ‘We’re about to enter sacred ground, so if you don’t mind, my Lady, you’ll need to cleanse yourself before entering the stargods’ domain.’

  ‘Um, sure, but what exactly does cleansing myself involve?’ I ask. There’s no way I’m getting naked and standing under an ice-cold waterfall. I’ve seen movies where they do that, and in reality those pretty actresses with the luscious bodies are probably not so much with the zen purity and oneness with the universe, but more concentrating on trying not to freeze to death.

  ‘You just need to wash your hands in one of these basins,’ says Harriad. He gestures over to a basin sitting under a beautifully carved arch.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ I say.

  ‘It’s an old tradition, and unfortunately we still have to follow it, even in these times.’

  ‘You don’t believe in this religion?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh no, I do, my Lady; I certainly do. I just don’t believe the stargods care much for temples and shrines and tradition.’

  Once we’ve cleansed ourselves, we begin to walk under an archway that has an ancient Chinese look to it, and that feeling of not belonging returns again. I’m walking on sacred ground, and even if I don’t believe in stargods, I feel like I shouldn’t be walking here. But then, hadn’t I wanted this? Isn’t this exciting? Why am I so determined to make myself feel like I don’t belong? I do belong. I am Chosen. I am a Pulsar. I belong.

  Chosen dressed like Sersu walk by us—soldiers. They don’t give us much attention, though some look interested. They’re probably not used to seeing so many escorts for just one Chosen, and I wonder if they’ll guess that I’m a Pulsar.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, Leonie,’ Dad says.

  ‘I’m not!’ I snap.

  Stone lanterns are grounded at each side of us, the flames whipping and blazing in sparks of orange and red. I notice something else, too: strange and small constructions with candles flickering in front of them and talismans hanging from their tops.

  ‘What are those?’ I ask. ‘They’re outside every temple.’

  ‘Those are shrines,’ says Harriad, ‘miniature ones. They’re not used now, only by Magen. They’re kept here mostly to retain the original design of this place.’

  ‘Magen?’ I say.

  ‘They’re passing us now.’

  A group of men and women walk by us, dressed in black with hoods pulled up. The women are covered in beautiful jewels and shining talismans, whereas the men are plain and downcast. I shiver at the sight of them.

  ‘Who are they?’ I ask. I feel like I should be asking what are they?

  ‘They’re like monks,’ Dad says to me in a quiet voice. ‘They dedicate their lives to the stargods and advise others on difficulties in their lives.’

  I take another glance at them as they pass us. There’s something holy about them, but also sinister. With how their heads hang low and how dark their clothes are, I see lifelessness rather than life. No way would I get therapy sessions with them.

  There’s a half-destroyed statue beside one of the temples, and I’m told that the damage happened centuries ago when a Pulsar child, brought here just like me, had a lapse in control with his magic.

  ‘Magen refuse to take it down; gods know why,’ mutters O’Sah.

  ‘I like it,’ I comment. It makes this place seem realer, like it’s not so perfect, like I can belong here, fragmented, just like the statue.

  The wind stirs as we continue walking up the pathway, beating snow against me. I keep glancing around, intent on seeing every detail.

  ‘You OK?’ Dad asks me. He’s behind me.

  ‘Yeah, just, y’know, taking it all in.’

  ‘It’ll take some getting used to,’ he admits.

  Two soldiers pass by me. There’s nothing unusual about them that would draw my attention, besides the way they glance at me. It’s not a look of mild interest—it’s one of intent. They know who I am. But why should that bother me? If they did somehow find out about me, it doesn’t mean anything, and they’re soon behind us anyway. I dismiss my concern, turning my head forwards, and find a piece of earth hurtling towards me. I don’t have time to comprehend the attack, and luckily I don’t have to. A shadow-like wall forms in front of me, and the earth strikes the shield, crumbling into rubble.

  Shouting erupts, and the Thrones form a circle around me, pushing my dad out of the way. The two soldiers-turned-attackers who had passed by
confront us, bolts of colourful electricity issuing from the hands of one. The other dodges the Thrones’ attacks with ease and manages to get close enough to wrap his hand around a Throne’s neck. The colour drains from his face so quickly, it’s like his life force is dissipating. Another Throne, who stands beside him, liquefies—his whole frickin’ body just turns to water—and he evaporates into the floor. He bursts from the ground where the attacker stands, and the water wraps around the attacker and forces him down, pinning him to the ground.

  The other attacker attempts to help his comrade by discharging electricity at the liquefied Throne, but the Throne divides into two so the attack misses. He pulls himself together and water shoots towards the attacker, slamming into him hard and fast, and knocking him down.

  There are four other attackers in front of me. The one in the middle clenches his hand and a mass of earth rips from the ground and drifts into the air. He then thrusts his fist outward, and the hard clump of earth smashes through the shadow-like shield in front of me, and it disappears.

  O’Sah is at my side now, and I don’t know what he does or how he does it, but with a look, the attacker clenches in pain and falls to the floor, writhing. Then the attacker next to him does the same. O’Sah then moves his gaze to another attacker—

  My body feels light, weightless like a feather. I feel as if my feet are lifting from the ground, the wind picking me up.

  Then I realise that is what’s happening.

  O’Sah and the four remaining Thrones are slowly rising into the air. They look irritated more than confused, afraid and bewildered, all of which is what I’m feeling. I try to grab onto something, but there’s nothing to hold onto. I even reach for O’Sah—we are drifting apart and I can’t get to him. I look to the remaining two attackers and see that one is using his hands in a strange way, as if he’s conjuring something, and I guess that he’s manipulating gravity. Manipulating gravity—it only hits me how strange that is. What kind of world have I brought myself into—a world I’m probably not going to last very long in by the look of things.

  ‘Now would be a good time, Yyun,’ O’Sah says.

  I manoeuvre my body so I can see where Yyun is. She’s a small Throne, the one who said I was bold. I don’t notice at first, only when it’s significant enough to tell, but she’s growing. Her limbs stretch out and become thicker, and though she’s no giant, she becomes bigger than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life. I hear the attacker grunting as he struggles to hold us. As soon as Yyun’s feet touch the ground, we all fall, gravity reasserting itself. Yyun breaks into a run towards the attacker, who is trying hard to regain control of gravity again. She crashes into him, thumping him down hard.

  The final attacker looks at us with her teeth clenched. She is outnumbered.

  Not that it matters.

  She’s gone in an instant, just gone, like she was never here—until she’s not gone and is behind me, that is. I feel her presence like a shadow pressing up against me, cold and spine-tingling. Her arm wraps around my neck, tightening around me so that I can’t breathe. I hear a whisper in my ear: ‘We know of you now, Crato’s doll, and we won’t stop until your strings are cut.’

  My heart pounds in my ears, the world seems to spin, and I don’t know what to do. I hear Dad call me and see his hazy figure. I should have known from the moment he told me about this world that I didn’t belong. I am not strong. I am not capable. I am just a doll to be crushed.

  The arm around me loosens until I’m free of it, and I fall to my knees, wheezing for air. Gentle hands caress my shoulders, and Dad is here, asking me if I’m all right. I glance around. The Thrones have caught the attacker, pressing her body to the floor. She doesn’t squirm or fight their hold. She stares at me—grinning.

  Sersu kneels beside me. ‘Are you hurt, my Lady?’

  I shake my head, pulling my gaze from the attacker.

  ‘Good. Now, I need you to stand. Can you do that?’

  I nod.

  ‘You don’t have to worry, it’s all over,’ Dad says, though he sounds shaken.

  ‘I need to take you away, my Lady,’ continues Sersu, ‘and out of the open. Come with me.’

  ‘What about them?’ Dad says, looking across to the attackers. They’re being grouped together by soldiers, reinforcements having now arrived.

  ‘That’s not important,’ replies Sersu. ‘We have to get her to her chambers; there might be others. The Thrones can handle them, but what just happened was unacceptable, a lapse in our security precautions.’ She bows her head at me. ‘I’m so sorry, my Lady. Leonie.’

  I don’t know what to say. It’s not like I blame them, but right now all I can think of is how that woman wrapped her arm around my neck, so easily and without effort, and how she grinned at me as if this was just the beginning.

  The beginning of what, though?

  LEONIE

  BLOOD ANSWERS BLOOD

  I’m led away from the scene by Sersu and Dad. Steep stone steps wind upwards towards the temple I’ll be staying in, and gripped in its arc is a waterfall that meets with a river below. Ahead of us, on an undisturbed blanket of white, is the temple, as snow, silver and dark, falls hauntingly around it. Near the temple are four smaller, though still large, temples built entirely of stone, about which frozen vines tangle and foliage clings.

  For the final stretch of our escape to the temple, we have to cross a stone causeway with small statues of stargods marking the way. The closer we get to it, the more my heart pounds in my chest. I look up and a snowflake lands on my cheek. This sky is not the one I grew up under. It is foreign to me. It is alien. It screams at me to turn back, to go home, to live under that ordinary sky I’ve always known. I should listen to it, I should, I should, but there’s an intent desire in me, strong and determined and unafraid, and my reluctance to enter this magical world is only offset by my own desire to experience it further, despite everything that’s happened.

  A low wall encloses the temple, and we have to walk through a small, ornate tower that acts as a gateway. We pass something that looks like a gazebo, small and enclosed by dark-green foliage. We then walk up a path and a set of stone steps. Two doors painted scarlet open to us as if by magic—which is entirely possible—and I walk into a foyer where glistening candlelight reflects in the glossy walls, and the marble floor rings under the weight of our shoes. There are two white statues embedded into the wall, each with their hands in prayer, and they look down on me as if to say, ‘Who are you?’ I don’t get to take in much else of my surroundings, as Sersu drags me through the hallways in a rush, passing by Magen, who glance at us uncertainly.

  I’m in a room now, lavish and grand and old. Scarlet is everywhere, decorating the walls, the bed, the curtains. I would have liked the colour, but after seeing what I just saw, it makes me think of blood, blood that might have been spilt—my blood.

  I know Sersu and Dad are talking to me, and I’m pretty sure I respond, but I can tell by their lingering presence that I’m not fooling them into thinking I’m all right. I feel something wet on my hand, and Pegasus’s nose is touching me, his tail wagging like nothing has happened, like we didn’t just get attacked by magic assassins or whatever the hell they were. Pegasus’s eyes never leave mine, and I stroke his head. Sersu and Dad keep talking, but I don’t listen or bother to give them a response this time. I just stare at Pegasus. Slowly, the world comes back to me as if I’m piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, and colours become bright and brilliant again, and that feeling of safeness shrouds itself around me. I’m all right, I didn’t die, and I’m still here breathing with a beating heart.

  Sersu leaves, and Dad sits by me on the bed. I don’t even remember sitting down. I take off the dark-green cloak.

  ‘Who were they?’ I ask, my voice quiet.

  ‘Rebels,’ he replies. ‘It’s all right now, I promise. Blood will answer blood, and they’ll be punished for what they tried to do.’

  ‘But why would they attack me? I haven’t—�
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  ‘You represent something now, Leonie. Like you were told, around two hundred years ago the Pulsar were wiped out by a malevolent force, and since then they’ve been considered extinct. Extinct, until now.’ His gaze hardens on me. ‘Until you. You are the Pulsar, and that means something.’

  ‘I thought I was beginning to understand what it meant,’ I say. ‘I thought I was.’

  ‘You’ve had a lot to contend with in just a couple of days. It’s unsurprising some things didn’t sink in.’

  ‘What I am, is it bad? It is bad enough to want me dead?’

  ‘…It’s complicated. Since the beginning of the Chosen, Pulsar have been our champions and defenders. When the Imperium formed, their duty became more intense than ever as the sword and shield of the Imperium, but the burden wasn’t as heavy as it is for you—they were many.’

  ‘And I’m alone.’

  His hand folds over mine. ‘Rebels fight against their government for whatever reasons they choose, just as those rebels fight against the Imperium. As the Pulsar, you are the Imperium; you are the beginning of an old age revived again, a time when Pulsar led us. That makes you a threat to them. I don’t know why, but they obviously believe you’re a danger to their cause, you and Crato.’

  ‘The… the woman who grabbed me, she mentioned Crato. Dad, who exactly is he?’

  ‘He’s the Head of the Imperial Council. Sebastian Crato makes the final decisions on issues raised at his court.’

  ‘And he’s the guy who saved you from imprisonment?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t seem happy about it. I’d be glad to have the favour of someone so important, enough to let me get away with something that’s considered punishable at least.’