by H. A. Harvey
Riona shifted a little, then smiled coyly as she reached out to take Nian’s hand, “I remember you and me under a warm blanket, hiding so the others wouldn’t see. I remember we kissed.”
“A lot happened since then. Do you remember who we were hiding from, or why? Or what about afterward? Do you remember what happened after that?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t tarry too long.” Riona set her bowl on the platter and stood quickly, “I’ll let you finish eating. Come down to the sanctum when you’re dressed. They’re waiting for you to meet her.”
Riona hurried past Nian, pausing briefly to squeeze his shoulder before she continued on out the same doorway she had entered. Nian watched Riona walk along the wooden pathway. When she turned onto an adjoining branch that spiraled down, she turned and looked back at Nian briefly. If he hadn’t already been convinced by Riona’s foggy memory or referring to herself as a pet, the fear in that brief glance would have done the job. Nian decided he’d had enough to eat. He hurriedly donned the rest of the clothing and headed out after Riona.
Stepping out on the branch gave Nian a momentary rush of vertigo. He’d never had an issue with heights, but the sudden revelation that the ground was at least fifty feet below the secluded bower still dazed him a moment. Riona was nowhere in sight, but the air was filled with a wild array of flying insects. There were fireflies, beetles, dragonflies, and all manner of butterflies. They danced in all directions in the golden light shining through the grove’s canopy.
As Nian worked his way carefully along the ash limb, one of the dragonflies zipped up in front of his face. Up close, he could see the creature was not quite a fly at all. Its body was chitinous, but looked more like a rough imitation of a mortal form, with two arms and legs. As he watched, the creature shifted appearance, suddenly becoming a tiny rendition of a human woman. Nian blinked in wonder at the little fairy. She made a high-pitched tinkling sound that reminded him of laughter. The fairy winked and waggled her fingers at him. Nian smiled back, a little entranced by the dainty little nymph, and slowly raised his hand to return a sheepish wave. She gave another tinkling laugh and spun through the air in an elegant pirouette. She finished her turn by bending in a delicate, if immodest, curtsey and blew Nian a kiss.
The fairy’s kiss blew a tiny circle of golden dust off her hand that struck Nian on his upper lip where it exploded into a small cloud of glitter. In an instant, a wild cacophony of tiny bells sounded nearby and two little dots of golden light zipped over to Nian’s little visitor. The lights spun wildly around the fairy, driving her away in a frenzy. A tiny girl with butterfly wings suddenly floated up to Nian’s face bearing a tiny white flower with petals that looked like feathers. She quickly went about buffeting Nian’s nose and mouth with the little flower like she was beating the dust from a rug. The feathery petals and medicine smell of the pollen quickly evoked a tremendous sneeze from him. Nian stepped wide to regain his balance, but his foot found nothing but air and he tumbled off the branch pathway.
With a shout of dismay, Nian plunged headlong through the open catwalks of the grove. The fairy folk flitting about let out a resounding racket of bell and drum noises. Suddenly, Nian slammed into a thick branch. Though the blow took the wind from him, the branch seemed to give just in time to avoid crushing his bones. Smaller peripheral boughs wrapped around Nian’s torso as the bough slowed his fall to a stop. As he regained his breath and panic subsided, Nian noted an oddity to the bark and foliage of the branch that had caught him. The bough most certainly belonged to an oak tree, while Nian had seen nothing but ash since entering the grove. He did not have Rowan’s knowledge of the forest, but Nian knew the markings of his favorite tree at a glance.
It wasn’t long before Nian’s rescuer revealed some difference between itself and the ancient oak he knew so well from Longmyst. The boughs surrounding him unfolded to reveal the tree’s upper trunk bent close and a trio of knotholes seemed to form a lopsided face staring back at him. A soft drumbeat echoed from within the tree and Nian could swear the knotholes changed shape slightly before the branch lowered him slowly to the ground.
Nian found himself on the slope of a basin somewhere within the grove. Above, dozens of bowers like the one he had just left floated among countless soaring catwalks that crisscrossed through the canopy. The trees of the grove were all unbelievably ancient, but the mighty trees here in the basin were vast beyond anything Nian could have imagined. Along the branches and the paths below, Nian saw more of the strange root-men scuttling about. Strangest of all were the crawling trees. Elms, ashes, oaks, and all manner of deciduous trees seemed to have uprooted themselves and moved slowly through the basin’s pathways as their roots coiled and unfurled to propel them along.
The fairy-oak next to Nian nudged him with one of its roots and pointed the branching hand that had caught him toward the center of the basin. Nian followed the oak’s gesture with his focus. At the center of the basin, the canopy of the grove opened and left a clearing at the heart of the grove. There, the light shone brightly down onto a crystal pool encircling a short, gnarled tree on a small tuft of grass. Five massive roots from the old tree at the heart of the grove leapt over the pool to form elegant, arched bridges. Upon the closest of these, he could make out the slender green form of Riona making her way across the living bridge. The sight of her on the root gave Nian a sense of scale, and what looked from his vantage like a secluded, private garden had to in fact be the size of Longmyst Lake.
Nian murmured a hasty thanks to the oak-person and hurried along the broad pathway down into the basin. Though he continued to make his way as quickly as possible, Nian couldn’t help but think back to his discussion with Autumn. On the outskirts of the grove, he had been able to imagine the place’s forgotten majesty. Here, there was nothing forgotten about the awe-inspiring city that once was.
By the time he reached the root bridge, the pathway was lined with the fair folk. The spaces between the ash trunks were filled with the wandering tree-folk, who seemed to have rooted themselves, making the pathway seem to be completely lined with ancient and varied trees. Among the lower branches, he saw several of the root-people leaning out to watch as he passed. Every possible other space seemed to be covered by a mixture of little lights and wings of colored satin or gossamer. The wild melody of their voices was almost deafening. Then, as his foot fell onto the root bridge, the grove fell silent save for the gentle, constant lapping of the water. Nian’s soft moccasins made no noise as he crossed the bridge.
On the island across the bridge, Riona stood next to the ancient bristlecone pine that sat bathing in the golden light of the clearing. The aged tree looked like a withered stump, save for a few tenacious green boughs that struggled to climb up from the impossibly old wreckage at their feet. At the heart of the stump grew a flower, the like of which he had never seen.
In form, it was not unlike a bearded iris of unusually large size. However, the plant’s stalk and leaves were white as driven snow, and all of the flower itself seemed ghostly, almost transparent. The falls were a lush crimson lined in black, while its standards were shimmering gold striped in white. The flower’s beard and crest looked to have been crafted of silver by the greatest of jewelers. In place of the flower’s stamen was a flickering light that seemed to shine a different hue as soon as Nian managed to identify the one he thought he saw.
15
Children of Creation
Suddenly, Nian felt music. It could have been a sound, a series of tones, but unlike the speech other fair folk, it had no instrument to which it could be compared, but he felt the music wash over and move through him. The sensation was awe-striking, and Nian could only compare it in his mind to the cascading thunder of Longmyst falls, or descriptions poets in his tavern had given of the sea lapping against glistening sand and wind blowing through mountains.
“She can’t teach an Emissary of Creation to understand her.” Riona spoke suddenly,
“So I will explain her meaning to you as best I can.”
“Um . . .” Nian cleared his throat, “I’m not all that easy with being Kadia’s Emissary, but I’m pretty sure I don’t speak for Creation.”
Riona smirked and answered before the music started, “She doesn’t see a distinction. Incarnates serve the will of Creation. As far as she is concerned, they might as well not exist. The Incarnates are servants of Creation, but she is Its child and older. So, to her, you are Creation’s Emissary. What aspect you are touched by doesn’t matter to her.”
Nian silently wondered where exactly that put him in the hierarchy of her opinion, but decided it wasn’t important enough to make it obvious that he didn’t know. He tried to think of what Kolel would do or say. He was rather sure that a bunch of over-stated flattery wouldn’t be well received, but he was sure that some of the Sattal’s rules should apply in this court like any other. Suddenly, it occurred to him that Riona was stuck here because of a rule. At least it was a starting point. Nian dug in his satchel. There wasn’t much there, a folding knife, a few days’ worth of ration crackers, some jerked meat, a handful of copper coins, and Ourei’s purse. Nian swallowed, wondering if breaking a rule to keep a rule did any good. Nian sighed and pulled out the elegant little purse.
“I understand that you’re supposed to bring a gift when you come to court. I know it’s not much, but this is the most precious thing I own . . . well apart from these clothes . . . but giving back what you just gave me wouldn’t make much sense.”
The music resumed, and Nian felt a note of mirth underlying the melody. When the melody fell silent, Riona translated dutifully. “No, indeed she would be upset with her children if any of her gifts displeased you enough to return them.”
“Oh no, everything is magnificent,” Nian replied eagerly, “Better than I’d imagine a prince could wear on the road. To be honest, I think they’re a bit too fine for someone like me to be wearing.”
A single, angry tone shook the clearing violently enough that droplets leapt free from the pool around the island. The nimbler members of the audience gathered along the far banks scattered briefly while the tree-men quaked and gave a low moan.
“She . . . doesn’t like foolishness or false modesty, Nian.” Riona cautioned him, clearly upset herself. “A prince is a useless mortal born in the shadow of greatness’ memory. You are an Emissary of Creation and have purpose.”
“S-sorry,” Nian stammered, “She said all that?”
“Yes and no, Nian.” Riona replied severely, “I told you that it’s . . . interpretive, but some of that was understood. Don’t cling to your anonymous beginnings, at least not here. She finds it disrespectful of the power entrusted to you, and to those who sacrificed in your cause.”
Nian’s mind conjured an image of the white poplar tree. He thought back to the others who had fallen along the way. Their memory weighed heavily on him.
“I don’t wish to disrespect anyone, especially not them. I’m not sure I would have come on this journey if I knew so many would have to fall just to help me reach Karen.”
“If it eases any pain,” Riona translated as the music resumed in a more pleasant melody, “The mercenaries were already fated to die. If anything, your diversion purchased a few extra breaths for some, and added purpose to all their ends. But they did not die for your sister’s life, that is your payment, not your task. This brings us to the purpose of your visit.”
“Wait!” Nian interrupted, “They aren’t dead. There’s still two with me, and others escaped Spireward from the battle. So I’ve saved some of them.”
There was brief music, but Riona merely looked at the queen on the flower and did not translate. The same melody echoed again.
“Riona?”
“I-I can’t.”
“Riona, please.” Nian begged, though he started to wonder if he shouldn’t pretend to lose interest and move on to something else. But the door had already been opened, and he knew his mind would conjure endless phantoms unless he knew for certain what had been said.
“She said that you have sent ripples in your footsteps. Many have been granted Hope where there was none. Some who deserved Death received it and granted Life to those who will make greater use of it, but . . .” Riona trailed off.
“But?” Nian prodded.
“I’m sorry, Nian.” Riona paused briefly and Nian could see anguish in her eyes. “But she said that the two you walk with are shadows.”
“What in Ruin’s name are shadows?”
“It means that their fate wasn’t altered, even though the manner changed, they’re still ending.”
“No!” Nian bellowed, “I won’t let that happen!”
“She doesn’t control Fate or Death, Nian, and neither do you.” Riona tried to explain softly, “But she understands Creation and can see things we can’t.”
A brief melody echoed through the air and Riona nodded.
“She doesn’t have anything more to say about that, but says it’s time to fulfill the purpose of your visit.”
Nian glared at the fairy queen for several moments. Kolel would have counseled him to hold his tongue, but he couldn’t accept that Xain and Autumn were going to die and it couldn’t be avoided. Still, he realized that he couldn’t accomplish anything by arguing with the queen. It might make him feel better, but it wouldn’t do any good. Nian silently nodded, though he vowed quietly to himself that he wouldn’t give up on either of them.
“Alright,” Nian said evenly, “I came to ask what it would take for her to release you.”
More music followed briefly. “She said that we will first discuss the purpose for you being here. Then, out of respect for the Emissary, she will hear the premise that brought you here fairly.”
“But you are why I am here.”
“No. My freedom is what motivated you to come, but it isn’t why you had to be here.”
“Really?” Nian didn’t quite see the distinction, but decided to play along. “Then why am I here?”
“Because she knows the enemy you are to face.” Riona interpreted as the queen’s music soared about him like a phantom orchestra. “The Incarnates’ old lives as Immortals were lost to them when they were chosen for their service, so they have forgotten the returning foe. Fate knows a reckoning approaches, and Hope can sense she will need a champion, but they have no memory of the old enemy that has been waiting for the last sentinel’s power to wane. The mother is older. She sang to her siblings in the heavens before the Immortals found Creation and scarred its beauty in their vain war to control It. She knows the twisted ones that were sealed away in shadow before the gods’ spire burned the sky, before the gates were built.”
“What enemy?” Nian asked timidly.
“She knows no name for them I could speak,” Riona recited the queen’s answer. “Nor would she allow me to do so in her court. They are principalities more than individual beings; forces of corruption, madness, and hate. They are enemies not just of the gods and the dragons, but of Creation itself. She does not know where they have been, but recognizes the . . . scent I guess, from the Human kingdom Clockward of her vale.”
“How am I supposed to fight something that opposed the Immortals?”
“She says the presence is weak, but growing. The way of this enemy is often subtle and insidious. She believes that you may be able to find a key point upon which their plan hinges. There is much to take heart in. An Emissary of Creation will be protected from corruption just as her power cannot touch your will. Of the twelve energies, Genesis is their bane; that of birth and life. It is beyond their ken to truly create for they know only to twist the creations of others to their will.”
“She also says mortals underestimate their own power and influence. Because their given time is finite, they are perceived and perceive themselves as frail and weak, but like her kind, and the dreamers, we are o
lder than them, children of Creation. Since the Immortals first came, mortal folk have proven their strength. She does not believe that it is coincidence that the mightiest of the Immortals, the Titans, were the first to be destroyed. They were struck down by the alliance of gods and dragons, but this was fueled by mortal support. Twice since the savage war of Immortals, the foolishness of the mighty has nearly destroyed Creation. Yet the mortal folk survive, recover, and thrive, while the dynasties of Immortals fall to ruin.”
Nian waited. When no more music came, and Riona stood silently smiling at him, Nian realized she was finished. He cleared his throat and waited.
“Um, is that it?”
“I believe so.” Riona shrugged.
“So, the whole purpose of coming all this way was a history lesson?” Nian struggled to keep calm, but wasn’t very successful. “I’m just here to find out that I’m up against something the whole of the Immortals couldn’t kill, and that my friends are marked for death? Why even tell me that? What about how to beat them, or even what I’m looking for?”
“That’s not fair, Nian.” Riona answered without prompting from the queen, “She’s given you knowledge that even the Incarnates don’t have. And you asked about the others. She just answered honestly, Nian. She didn’t have anything to do with what will happen.”
“What about all these . . . these children of hers? Why not send an army to help stop this thing from coming back? Does she really think a handful of simple villagers are going to have a chance? We can’t even hope to get past the mortal army they have, let alone face down whatever twisted god is waiting inside the city!”
The light suddenly grew to twice its size and floated above the flower, burning with intensity. Riona screamed and fell to her knees as a piercing ringing swept outward from the queen, driving Nian to the ground with his hands clapped over his ears. The host of fairy creatures along the pond’s bank quivered and withdrew into the dim woods beyond. When the sound finally subsided, the three of them were alone on the serene island.