Song of the Worlds Boxed Set

by Brandon Barr

  The last of the roots untangled from the Maker’s fingers and formed an oval knot of web-laced roots at the top of the stick. With pride in her eyes, the Maker looked up at Wiluit. “This walking staff will do only what we Makers desire. Through it, you will see our judgment, and as long as the staff remains unbroken in your hand, we will protect you.”

  The Maker’s eyes turned upon Meluscia. Starlight as old as creation itself stirred within them. “I have gifts for you, dear one. Your disgrace has led you to a true repentance of heart. Your mind is clear now, and the task within is right. We long to see you lead the armies of many lands into the Star Garden Realm, but it is not a certain future. A dark heart awaits you at home. Your becoming Luminess is by no means written in stone. The choices of many people must align—both servant and kings and queens—for the resolution in your mind to bear fruit.

  “But don’t lose heart, the gifts I give to you will help. Come.”

  The Maker led her beside the graves.

  “Herein lies Rathan, Eanth and Monaiella.”

  The latter name brought a tremor through Meluscia and she fell to a knee.

  “Rathan was Monaiella’s only loyal rider,” said the Maker. “When she was forced to relinquish her title as Luminess and flee into exile, Rathan swore to protect her. Eanth was their son.”

  Meluscia marveled at the declaration. She knew nothing of Monaiella’s history after her exile.

  “We gave Eanth the gift of Healing and of Strengthening, for he had his mother’s heart to serve others.” The Maker held her hand out over the nearest grave. “Here lies Eanth, the Cherah that gave him gifts lie dormant beside his old bones. I now pass them on to you, Meluscia.”

  The Maker reached out and took her hands. Immediately Meluscia’s fingertips burned wondrously, as if held out to a blazing hearth. Ripples of hot warmth spilled up her wrists like flickers of flames.

  “This gift I give you is unique. It can only be used twice. One time to heal, one time to strengthen. As with all such gifts, we, the Makers, decide who will receive them.”

  “Thank you,” whispered Meluscia.

  “One more gift for you,” said the Maker. Her hand hovered over the center burial mound. A tremor seemed to shake it, causing small pebbles to shiver and bounce over the earth. And then the dirt split as a sword rose from the grave, sheathed in rotting leather. “The sword of Monaiella. It bears her name in the old language of the second age. It is a sword like any other, but I shall change that.”

  The dark crimson dress the Maker wore suddenly billowed as if struck by a gust of wind. The arms stretching from the sleeves smoldered, and then the Maker’s hands burst into flames, fingers white with heat. She ran her hands up and down the length of the sword twice over. Then the glow died and the fire vanished. The fair skin of her hands returned.

  Meluscia stared in awe. The Maker handed the hilt of the sword to her and she took it carefully. The blade still glowed faintly red with heat as it cooled.

  “This sword is blessed now. If the blade remains sheathed, no weapon of any kind will be able to harm you, Meluscia. But if you choose to use the sword, you will be granted the power of an Aeraphim to kill one opponent. No matter the skill or size, that enemy cannot defeat you. However, if you unsheathe and use the sword, ever after you will be susceptible to death by sword, or any weapon.”

  The Maker took the rotting sheath in her hand and placed it over the sword. As she did, the leather sheath became as new.

  “Now, go back to your journeys. I’m afraid, when you return to your party, you will find all is not well.”

  Like mist fading into the sunlight, the Maker disappeared.

  --

  Meluscia rushed headlong through the undergrowth, pulled by Wiluit. A sense of urgency was in his pace, rushing through branches that scraped at their clothes and not taking the time to search out the easiest route. The second dousing of mud from the wolves’ tunnel was beginning to dry and flake away as the foliage battered her arms.

  She was still awestruck by what had taken place behind her.

  They broke through the last of the heavy brushwood and through the trees ahead she saw the horses still waiting upon the road. She clutched the hilt of her sword in her right hand and remembered the Maker’s warning.

  The Hold called to her like never before.

  She and Wiluit ran up a gradual slope to the road.

  “Where is she?” asked Wiluit.

  “She ran off, looking for you,” said Takmuk. “Wouldn’t listen to me of course!”

  Meluscia realized it was Jauphenna they spoke of, for she was no where in sight.

  “I have to search for her,” said Wiluit. He pulled his sheathed sword from his mount and began strapping it to his belt. “Leave me and my horse. Go on without me and I shall catch up once I find her.”

  “No,” said Meluscia. “I’ll take my own company. You keep yours.”

  Wiluit unstrapped his bow and removed three arrows from his pack. “It’s too dangerous,” he said. “Shauwby can protect you.”

  Meluscia gave Wiluit a questioning look. “Is Jauphenna in danger or just lost?”

  Wiluit looked to the woods. “Something evil stalks her.” Wiluit’s green eyes flashed as they met Meluscia’s. “Go on. I believe our black-cloaked pursuer is the one after Jauphenna. If you ride hard, you should be safe.”

  He turned to Takmuk. “Did you see her path?”

  Takmuk raised his hand and lifted a bony finger. “There, right of where you entered the wood. She kept eyeing the two of you, looked like she was trying to follow at a distance.”

  Without another word Wiluit ran into the woods.

  “What’s that odd stick in his hands?” asked Takmuk.

  Meluscia took to her horse. “A tool a Maker gave him.”

  “Were you given a gift?” pressed Takmuk.

  “Yes, two gifts. I’ll tell you of them later if you promise to bring your band to the hold.”

  “We make no promises,” growled Takmuk.

  Shauwby waved to Meluscia, a distressed smile bound on his lips. Meluscia shouted a command to her party and kicked her heels. Shauwby’s troubled look turned her thoughts to Wiluit. She hoped all would be well. Despite Jauphenna’s ill temper, the young woman had saved her sister, and delivered the words that had led to the freeing of her own soul.

  She gripped the hilt of the sword in its leather sheath and recalled the fire she’d felt heating her fingertips.

  She would not sleep until she stood in her father’s bedroom and delivered to him the signed treaty of King Feaor.

  LOAM

  Doctor Saeyeed, I’m sending you the bio for Karience, an Empyrean born on the world Night 2. She is the Empyrean we discussed in length a week ago. I’m afraid she’s grown more unstable since our last talk. Her charter world, Loam, is in upheaval due to circumstances out of her control. However, her response to the situation has me concerned. She came to my office today and practically begged me to make amendments to the charter that any basic Empyrean trainee would recognize as accommodating.

  Given the situation, I understand her fear of losing Loam, but I also sense a deeper anxiety behind her requests. She knows she only has one shot at this and if the charter fails, the twenty-eight years she has spent there will be wasted.

  I’m hoping you can allay my concerns. She is a risk-taker and a fighter. Good traits in a leader when controlled, but dangerous in the hands of a desperate woman with her life’s work is on the verge of collapse.

  -Higelion, Magnus Empyrean of Sector 54, transmission to Doctor Saeyeed, Guardian psycho-analyst, Bridge.

  CHAPTER 29

  WINTER

  A salty ocean breeze caressed Winter’s face and she folded her bare arms across her chest for warmth. The air was cool and crisp as the sun rose over the hills behind her. The breeze held a heaviness so different than the airy winds of the farmlands she grew up on.

  She stood near the edge of the cliff beside the portal
and stared down at the waves below, which crested pink in the elegant glow of dawn. Rueik had been the only one she’d seen up at that early hour, and he’d asked if she wanted to watch the sunrise over the ocean. He showed her a new way out of the underwater facility—one where they didn’t have to use an exploration craft. It was a long, straight tunnel with a floor that moved on its own. It had led to a location near the God’s Eye portal.

  She wanted to take her butterfly jar out from under her dress, but Rueik seemed so fixated on it, she chose to leave it hidden. He’d already brought up the topic twice, once in the moving tunnel, and again as they wound the dirt path to the cliff.

  “Will you tell me your secret?” said Rueik. “There’s something you’re not telling us. Something special about you. And someone in the Guardians sees it too, Karience has said as much. That’s why you and your brother were chosen.”

  Winter kept her eyes forward. She didn’t want anyone to know about her gift besides Karience. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  Rueik was quiet as the waves crashed in rhythmic cycles below them.

  “Every world has its own unique beauty,” said Rueik, stepping closer to her.

  “Do you find my world beautiful?” asked Winter, glad that he’d changed the subject.”

  “It’s more beautiful than most upworlds, I can say that much. But my own home planet is my favorite world in our galaxy.”

  Winter nodded. “A new world can never outmatch the beauty of what’s a part of you. This view is wonderful in its own way. Maybe we’re fortunate. Not everyone grows up seeing sights like this. Still, even as beautiful as this view is, I miss the flowers and streams of the woods I grew up in.”

  And yet, even as she said this, the portal called to her as she stood near it, beckoning her to step through to a new world where her destiny might await.

  But not now. Not yet. She felt she should tell Karience first. Whether that was wise or not, Winter couldn’t say. She trusted Karience. The Empyrean displayed a motherly protectiveness over her. Karience respected Winter’s gift and calling but would she allow her to travel alone through the portal? Winter felt she would.

  She glanced at Rueik. “What is it about your home that you find most precious?”

  “The volcanic rock,” said Rueik. “The mountains are tall and black and they grow taller every year. At night, the glow of lava sets our cities aglow in red, pulsing light.” He laughed. “Most people would prefer to live further out, in the green forests of my world, but I like my mountains charred and fiery.”

  Winter smiled, trying to imagine it. “When will you go back?”

  Rueik was again quiet as another wave crashed below, but the pounding strike of the water against the rocks never made it to her ears.

  She heard the sound of Rueik’s voice, replying to her question, but the words were drowned out by an irresistible tugging on her consciousness. The ocean before her altered, forming into contorted shapes of dark green, until an exotic landscape devoured the waves completely and the sea disappeared.

  Winter put her hands over her heart, trying to calm herself.

  Everything beyond the cliff was a dense forest stretching to the horizon. Green, tree-tangled mountains rose to her left, and the sky was tinted a dark crimson. She stood frozen before the shocking transformation. Even the air smelled different, musty and dense, like the side of wet, shaded logs where mushrooms flourish.

  A hand came gently upon her shoulder, reassuring, then forcefully shoved her forward, pushing her free from her footing on the cliff. She felt nothing but air as her body turned slowly—the strange trees speeding toward her shifted out of sight, as if moving on their own, but she knew she was the one spinning. And then she saw a face above her. It was so far away now, and in her terror, she couldn’t make the person out. The one who had thrown her from the cliff. Her body continued to spin, and then she saw the trees again, rising up to meet her like cruel spikes.

  She screamed.

  Shouts sounded all around her and the landscape faded like a wisp of smoke in the air. She looked up and saw half a dozen faces staring down at her. Rueik was one of them…the others, she didn’t recognize. Then she noticed their camouflaged clothing. They were members of the Shield Forces.

  She took in a deep breath and sat up.

  “Are you alright?” asked Rueik.

  She turned to him. Curiosity outweighed any concern in his eyes.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I lost my footing and fell backward.”

  Two Shield Force members helped her to her feet.

  “Be more careful,” said one of the men. “Hate to lose an emissary as pretty-faced as you to the cliff.”

  She tried to smile and thanked them before they returned to their hidden posts.

  “I want to go back,” said Winter.

  Rueik folded his arms and smirked. “I know what you are now,” he said confidently.

  “I’m a pretty-faced emissary,” said Winter. “You heard the man. Now come on, let’s go.”

  “You’re a seer—one of the god-touched. You didn’t trip. I was watching your eyes. You saw something. You had a vision.”

  --

  RUEIK

  He was certain she was angry with him as he led her back to the hidden tunnel in silence.

  He had guessed right. Winter was one of the god-gifted.

  Killing her was now a top priority

  But not yet. The circumstances weren’t right. There was nowhere safe to store the body within the underwater facility, and besides he couldn’t risk being seen dragging a dead body off the moving platform. Aboveground there had been no chance to kill her. Not with all the Shield Force watching.

  Tonight, after he surprised Karience at her dinner with Damien, then he could kill Winter.

  His blood ran hot with anticipation at the thought of his plan.

  The moving platform slowed as it ended in a long walkway that led to the main areas of the facility. Winter stepped off first, and he followed behind.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’ve upset you.”

  “It’s not your fault,” said Winter. “But please don’t tell anyone. And don’t treat me any different.”

  “I give you my word,” said Rueik. “And I promise, I won’t mention it again to you.”

  Winter began walking down the tunnel, then stopped. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.

  “No, I’m going back up. I want to visit the market. I need some breakfast and I’m already tired of the food down here. Want to come?”

  Winter shook her head. “I need to think. About what I saw. You understand.”

  “Yeah, I understand. It was a gorgeous sunrise.” He smiled and stepped back onto the platform.

  CHAPTER 30

  KARIENCE

  She stormed through the portal of Core Nine as she followed her Emissary, Winter, back to the cool seaside of Loam. A brine-scented wind whipped sporadically on the sea cliff as Karience and Winter hurried up the dirt trail leading to the small exploration craft.

  “Higelion’s been to Loam twice in the twenty-eight years I’ve been here,” said Karience, nearly shouting as she kept a brisk pace toward the craft. “And he thinks he knows better than I what Loam needs! Better than anyone here.”

  “People in power rarely listen to those below them,” said Winter. “That’s my experience. You’re the exception to that rule.”

  Karience turned and grinned. “I’m a rule breaker, that’s why.”

  The small exploration craft came into view as they crested the hillside. The door opened as they neared.

  “Loam needs you here,” said Winter. “Not just the Guardians, but you.” She paused, then continued, “I love my world, but I don’t belong her anymore.”

  Karience stopped just short of the door to the exploration craft. “Why do you say that?”

  “Do you remember what I told you about my calling?”

  Karience remembered well. Before the Guardian Tower had fal
len, she’d made plain her desire to become a Missionary. But her goals went far beyond the duties of Missionary, for she had said strange words…something about her being destined by the Makers to kill a Beast. The idea would have remained entirely bizarre had she not seen Winter’s gift for herself.

  The girl could see the future.

  “I remember what you said about the Makers and their plans for your life,” said Karience, giving Winter a long stare. She sensed Winter’s hesitation. “You mean to go through the portal, don’t you?”

  “With your permission, yes.”

  Karience looked out toward the sea, searching her thoughts. Finally, she looked back to Winter, anxious and concerned for her safety. “After seeing the power of your gift with my own eyes, I don’t dare stand in your way. I will not resist the Makers’ Oracles, as many of the Guardians do. As to my permission…you don’t need it. But if you disappear, remember, I never said anything of the sort.”

  The smile that came over Winter’s lips was fragile but warm. “I hope the charter prevails. Then if I ever return home, I’ll still have a friend on Loam.”

  Karience sighed. “If the charter fails, I’d only be a hindrance staying here. They’ll always look at me and see a Guardian. Your rulers have to desire my presence, and that means embracing the charter.”

  “What will you do if it fails?”

  “I refuse to think about it. I still have faith something can be done. I’m seeing Prince Damien tonight. He might yet work with Higelion’s terms.”

  Karience entered the craft and sat in the pilot chair, then glanced at the time counter above the controls. Her dinner with the prince was closer than she had realized.