A curious thing can happen between two magicians. When their souls come close, they take on some of the characteristics of the other – for example, Majira and Avaxenon and myself. We were all so close. We loved one another – Avaxenon was a brother to me. Majira was my lover. Our souls were entwined – and as they were entwined, they passed on our mutual affinity for seer magick. We were our own mage circle, our own school, in a sense.
And that is how I discovered the princess was in love with the battle-mage.
It did not stun me; it was no scandal in my eyes. And I promised to keep it a secret, even while she fervently denied its veracity. I had to remind her that very little could be hidden from Bram Tan Heth before she relented – but I did not allow her to admit it to me. Not out loud, by any means.
One can never be too sure of their own privacy.
Over the weeks we laboured for hours each day. She barely had to rest between sessions; I was impressed and, once again, frightened. She had to learn how to conceal herself from the watchers in the dreamscape without delay.
I was confident she would be capable within the month. It took most three or four; but the size of her soul, the depth of her reservoir, allowed her to train every day for hours. No need to recharge, no need to heal the soul. It was incredible…
So much power before me.
Despite my own fatigue, despite my daily struggle against the Black Laughter, I could not sleep. The possibilities of Princess Dawn as my pupil… soon to be High Queen Dawn… she could knock down the Twin Pillars of Woe. She could bring ruin to the vile temples of the Disciples of the Void; she could cleanse the mired Witchlands. She could be the lynchpin of a great reckoning, the sanctifying war Avaxenon had always dreamed of, the one I had almost abandoned… all I had to do was devise a way to allow her full might to be brought to bear.
But that would all have to wait. There was much to do, so much to do.
***
My dappled grey pony ambled along the clean streets of Naraya. He pulled a cart behind us; the sun was warm as the summer ended. Autumn was fast approaching, the mornings growing colder.
Princess Dawn rode beside me; her steed was draped in coloured linen. Folk waved as we passed, and Dawn returned their greetings with a smile. We were headed to the edge of town, cart in tow.
“Magus Bram,” Dawn began, “have you ever been further west of here?”
I found this question rather odd; not by the nature of the question, but by its implications. I realized that no, I had never really spent time delving in the west. My quarry was in the east, always in the east. Even the continents north and south got little attention from me.
“No, actually. All I’ve seen west of here is hills,” I replied.
We rode on in silence for a while. We passed down a wide boulevard flanked by soaring poplars. Their leaves were beginning to turn; a light breeze sent a shower of yellow leaves spiralling to the earth like falling gold coins.
“Have you ever heard of the being who watches from the cleft in the rock?” Dawn asked.
I couldn’t help but be surprised. I certainly had heard of this being; Majira and I had searched for him years ago, to no avail.
“Why yes, I have. Why?”
“I’m going to speak to them.”
I almost laughed.
“Really? And how will you find them?” I asked. “I once sought them out. There wasn’t even a trace. It’s but a myth, for all I know.”
Dawn frowned.
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
“And what makes you think that?” I asked.
“Well, every night I dream part of the journey.”
I nearly fell over in my saddle. The sudden shock made me dip a finger into my pouch and withdraw some Kov leaf. I chewed thoughtfully to regain my composure.
“You dream of it? By the Maker, how do you manage that?”
“I was shown the way by the fae,” she simply replied.
“The fae aren’t known for their honesty, your highness,” I warned. “They cannot always tell the truth from fantasy.”
She held her tongue for a moment, looking straight ahead as we rode.
“I’m going to find them anyway. I’m going to ask them all kinds of questions. The being in the cleft of the rock is the wisest being of all, they said.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” I replied. “The myth states simply that he has witnessed all since their birth. Wisdom and witness are two very different things.”
“But say I do find them. Isn’t there anything you would like to ask?”
“Hypothetically, yes. I would like to ask them how to halt the war between the Twin Pillars of Woe. How to stop either of them from winning,” I replied. “I would also ask them about the nature of souls. There’s much to learn, things yet shrouded from mortal comprehension…”
We were approaching the east edge of Naraya. A golden meadow stretched out before us, touching the titanic trunks of ancient cedar trees farther off. All of Naraya seemed to have been built in this oddly out-of-place meadow in the centre of the towering woods. Dragonflies darted above the grass, streaks of flashing colour.
Princess Dawn reined back her horse and dismounted. I did the same.
We both walked to the cart and drew back the awning. Majira opened her eyes slowly; her strength had not yet returned to her. I worried deeply for her health – her soul was very damaged. I prayed that one day she would be healed.
We propped her up and let her look out to the rolling meadow. Her curly red hair fell behind her – it reminded me so much of our youth. A strange sadness nearly overwhelmed me as I gazed upon her; eyes dark from fatigue, skin pale from illness.
I had to step back for a moment, to look away. I chewed another Kov leaf and took a deep breath before returning to them.
We all surveyed the meadow on the edge of town.
“How does this look?” the princess asked. “Will it be enough space?”
“More than enough…” Majira whispered.
I nodded in agreement. We would need to bring in a real survey team to hammer out the dimensions, but this meadow was more than adequate.
I could imagine it now; a great college would grow here. Little by little we would build the towers and spires, the great hall, a library… it would be perfect.
Now it was just a matter of time and funding.
And once it was built… no, even during the construction of this new magickal college, we would wage our war. We would topple the Twin Pillars of Woe. I would sway armies and navies, construct weapons and convene circles so great and powerful even the onlooking Sphinxes in their pillarous eyries would tremble at the sight of it. And centuries ahead, folk will look down to the mouldering bones of the Empire of Un, to the drying mires of the Witchlands, and go mad not with fear at their reawakening but in terror of what inconceivable force had struck them down, laid waste to their safe places, brought these ones who were once so mighty, unto dust.
I would dedicate my every waking moment to the degradation of those terrible enemies. In memory of Avaxenon, to avenge Majira, for the sake of all living, I would not rest until the eastern tyrants were cast down – or death claimed me.
And I knew, with grim certainty, that my death was the only realistic outcome.
But that did not disturb me. That did not faze me.
Why would it?
I was Bram Tan Heth.
Magus Bram Tan Heth, the Mad.
“Are you alright, Bram?” came a whisper, cutting through my dark imaginings.
Majira was looking up at me from her cart.
“Hm? Yes, of course. Quite alright,” I replied. “Why?”
She lay back down and closed her eyes. Princess Dawn was strolling through the meadow, letting the long golden grass brush against her palms.
“Oh, you were just giggling…” Majira said.
I leaned against the side of the cart.
&nb
sp; “She’s strong,” I said, nodding to the princess as she wandered a ways off.
“In many ways, you’ll find…” Majira replied. “You take care of her, now…”
I looked down at Majira. Her eyes were half-closed. I reached out and brushed a lock of red hair away from her face.
“Only if you promise to help,” I said.
She touched my hand lightly and smiled.
“Only if you promise to take my advice.”
I laughed quietly. It was a real laugh; it felt good.
“Only if it’s good advice,” I replied.
“I’ve never given anything but good advice…” she said.
I rested my head against my hand and looked out over the meadow. Princess Dawn was walking back now, sunlight glowing upon her. And for a moment I felt like everything would be alright.
Maybe it was the sunny day, or the good company. Maybe it was coming that much closer to realizing a dream Avaxenon, Majira and I had harboured all those years ago.
I felt like everything would be alright in the end. The feeling didn’t linger; it didn’t stay for long. But I had felt it. And I would remember.
Princes Dawn mounted her horse. I covered the cart with the awning as Majira closed her tired green eyes. Then I got into the saddle.
“Shall we go?” the princess asked.
I nodded.
There was still much work to be done – a court to convince, a pupil to train, a war to wage.
We turned and rode slowly back to the keep.
62
Daisy
It took a few weeks. I lost track of the days.
I had never really cried before; never grieved. Privacy was something I never had, and emotions were a luxury. Luxuries were scarce on the Holy Mount of Ashrahaz.
It felt like every morning I would wake up and find myself already weeping; grief poured out of me, like a floodgate had been opened. I cried for all sorts of things; for The Slave, for Avna’a, for never really knowing my own mother – I cried for wasted time.
The days melted into each other; I’m not sure how many passed. I was being kept in a stone-walled room; it was big, with a wardrobe and a bed three times wider than the cot I was used to. There were two tall windows paned with glass that let in ample sunlight; the drapes were always drawn.
Every afternoon a healer would come in; a young faun, always looking a bit nervous. He would spend time with my wounds, reattaching the muscle, reducing the scars to fine white lines. My aches were gradually soothed. It was through his daily visits that I started getting a grasp on the passing days.
Then there was the dau knight… Herace. He came in every day as well, carrying with him a plate of food or bowl of something or other. At first I wouldn’t eat. I couldn’t eat.
But he would come all the same, knocking on the door as if I could turn him away. He wouldn’t say much, but he would smile as he entered; then he’d place the food beside my bed and leave. He never lingered.
One day the faun healer finally opened his mouth as he inspected my hip wound.
“I don’t know if you understand me… maybe you do… but if you do, how are you feeling now?”
I realized then that I hadn’t spoken a single word in all those days to the healer. I felt a little embarrassed.
“Uh, better,” I replied.
He looked up in surprise, clearly not expecting me to speak.
“Oh! Well, that’s good. Have you tried walking around much?” he asked.
That made me even more embarrassed. I had barely got up from bed in who knows how long. Occasionally I would sit on the bed’s edge, or stagger to the window if I was feeling particularly restless. I’d look out over the meadow to the forests beyond, wondering what I was doing here – wondering what would happen next.
“Not much,” I replied.
My Urvish still wasn’t very good. I always felt like I was stumbling over myself as my tongue contorted to produce the odd sounds.
The healer stood and picked up his bag.
“Your wounds are as healed as I can manage; the rest will be up to the Maker. But you shouldn’t have much trouble; the collar bone might be a little weak for a while. But the cuts are healed. The occasional ache will pass every now and then, but that’s all,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Of course, of course… Prince Herace insisted I stay for as long as it took. He’s the one to thank; I had to force him to take treatment for himself. He didn’t want to waste my energy. He’s a funny one. But a good one.”
“I will. I will say thanks,” I replied. “Is he healed?”
“Him? More or less,” said the healer.
He looked out the window, squinting into the light.
“Hm. Well, if you’re all better, I’d best be off. Wife and kids and all…” he said, rolling his shoulders back, then turning to me again. “Say, I hope you don’t mind me asking… I know it’s probably a little late, but may I ask your name?”
I sat up on the edge of the bed and looked to the floor. I frowned.
Then I looked up at him.
“Daisy.”
The faun healer smiled and gave me a polite little bow.
“Well, Daisy, it has been a pleasure. I pray you recover. You’re in good hands in Plin Oèn,” he said, and headed for the door.
He swung it open then stopped in the doorway.
“You know, you should really take a walk from time to time. It would help you heal,” he said.
I looked at him, confused.
“Walk? Walk where?” I asked.
Then he looked confused.
“Walk where? Well, anywhere! You’re not confined to just the courtyard, mind you; the village is just a short walk north. And of course there’s the field, and the woods… endless possibilities.”
I couldn’t believe it.
I thought I was a prisoner.
All this time I thought I was stuck here, in this room. I don’t know why; no one had ever told me to stay. No one had ever manacled me, or demanded information. They had healed me, fed me, even clothed me.
The healer left the door open as he parted.
I had to laugh at myself. All this time I could have just left… nothing was locked. I wasn’t under guard. I was free – completely free.
I got up and walked to the window. The stone floor was cold on my bare feet. It was almost noon; the sun was high in the sky. It was a beautiful day; a few wispy clouds blew lazily through the sky. This place was so green, so alive… it was a big change from the Ashen Plain, from arid Ashrahaz. But not an unwelcome one.
Somewhere deep within me I imagined spending the rest of my life here. How different things could be… I’d learn a new tongue. I’d never speak Unnic ever again. I’d dress however I wanted; wake whenever I wanted. Go wherever I wanted.
There would be no more threat of harems or punishment; no more lingering eyes of Gol-Gorom, no more endless competition or arduous tasks without heed or warning. No more tyrants, petty or grand.
I focused my eyes until I could see my own reflection in the glass. It was faint like a ghost; like my mother’s ghost. I put a hand to the window, felt the cool glass against my palm. I looked just like her… even my hair was growing back.
I vowed to never cut it again.
Outside my window was a whole different world… and I was a whole different being. As far as anyone else knew, Shi’iran-daz-ithrav was dead. If she had not drowned, she had been slain on Retker’s Knoll. Daz was dead.
I was Daisy now.
The sound of the door creaking caught my attention. I turned.
Herace was standing in the doorway, both hands full. My heart fluttered as I glimpsed his face – I had to look away. He was carrying a bowl of food in his right, and draped over the other arm was a length of ivory cloth. He smiled when he saw me standing by the window.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he walked in.
>
“Good,” I said.
He placed the bowl on the bedside table.
“Great to hear. The healer said you were much better today.”
I turned to him.
“Thank you. For everything,” I said.
He seemed to hesitate, as if unsure how to respond. He walked over to me, the length of ivory linen in his hands. He held it up for me to see and smiled.
It was a dress; blue thread patterned the hem, the waist. It had short sleeves.
“This is for you,” he said, holding it out for me. “I bought it in town a few days ago. I figured it would be nicer than what you’ve got now.”
It certainly would be. I was dressed in a loose wool shirt and pants – I hadn’t changed it since the day I got here, whenever that was.
I reached out and accepted the dress from him. It was of finely-woven linen, soft to the touch. It might be a little short – but I wasn’t surprised. I was taller than most. As long as it fit my shoulders.
I tried to thank him again but he brushed it off.
“I’m just happy to see you’re up and walking. Talking, too,” he grinned. “I was worried for a few days.”
I walked over to the bed and sat down. He followed me and sat on the stool that the healer had left nearby.
There was so much to say, but I didn’t know how to make the words. Not just that I had to use a foreign tongue, either; there were thoughts and feelings inside me that I was so unfamiliar with.
I looked down at the dress and brushed my hand against its soft surface. I hadn’t worn a dress since I was a child.
“Why?” I asked.
“Why what?”
I cleared my throat, still looking down to the dress, to its ivory-and-blue design.
“Why did you help me.”
Herace leaned forward in the stool. He ran a hand through his wavy hair, stopping to touch the pronged tines growing out of his head.
“Because… well, I saw you in a dream.”
A shockwave of disbelief hit me.
“A dream?” I asked, incredulous.
“I know, it sounds ridiculous. But I saw you in a dream. And when I woke up, I knew I needed to bring a healer,” he said. “It was the strangest thing…”
Day of the Hunt (The Faun Quartet Book 2) Page 50