by John Marco
‘Wait,’ said Minikin. ‘There is one thing else. If I do this thing for you — and there is no certainty that Amaraz will allow it — then you must do something for me in return.’
‘Tell me what it is,’ said Meriel. ‘Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.’
Minikin’s face grew rigid. ‘You wish to change your appearance and be normal again, but you will not truly be normal. No Akari can heal your skin or give you back your true appearance. It will be an illusion, Meriel, unreal.’
‘I know,’ said Meriel. ‘But it will appear that way to everyone, yes?’
‘Yes, that is how it should be.’
‘Then I will do it gladly!’
‘That is not what I’m asking. Not only must you understand this illusion, you must do something to prove that you understand it. Something that will keep you from forgetting we of Grimhold and where your magic truly comes from.’
Meriel grew wary suddenly. ‘What would you have me do?’
‘You will take on an Inhuman name. Finally.’
‘What? But why?’
‘This is not a request, Meriel. This is not some favour I ask of you. If you choose to abandon Sarlvarian for another Akari and go through the world with a mask, I insist that you understand what you’re doing. I do not approve of it at all. Grimhold was founded against the fallacy of beauty. You have chosen to ignore that principle. And so you must take on a name that reminds you of us, and the masquerade you live.’
‘What name?’ asked Meriel dreadfully.
Minikin replied, ‘You will call yourself Mirage.’
Mirage. Meriel thought about the word while staring at Minikin. Why was she doing this to her?
‘Mirage,’ she echoed. ‘I’m to call myself that always?’
‘Always,’ Minikin insisted. ‘To do otherwise will break the magic of the Akari. You will be what you are now again, but without the gifts that Sarlvarian has given you. And be aware of this, too — if you do this thing, you will no longer have your fire gift. No more controlling flames with your mind, and no more controlling the pain of your scars.’ The elvish woman looked at Meriel uncertainly. ‘Now, are you sure this is what you want?’
‘I’m sure,’ said Meriel with defiance. ‘Mirage is what I will call myself. After all, it’s just a name. And I can deal with the pain. It will be nothing compared to looking at my ugly face.’ She smiled. ‘I’m ready.’
Minikin was circumspect. ‘You will have time to think on it.’
‘I don’t need time. I want to do this right away.’
‘That may be so, but I need time to discuss this with Amaraz and convince him of the rightness of it. That will not be easy, child. He may refuse me.’
Meriel nodded. ‘I know you’ll try, Minikin. Thank you.’
The Mistress of Grimhold smiled again. Despite what had been said, there was real love in her expression. ‘There are times when no amount of talk will convince a girl to change her mind. This is one of those times, I think.’ She leaned back on her elbow, making herself comfortable. ‘Now, tell me about the way you looked before the burning. .’
Two days later, Meriel found herself in the cave of spirits.
It had been three years since she had last been in the cave, when she had arrived in Grimhold and Minikin had taken her down into the depths below the fortress. It was when she had first been given Sarlvarian, when she had first been made an Inhuman and joined the ranks of those lucky few with an Akari. Then, Meriel had been younger but she was no less wide-eyed now. No other Inhuman had seen the cave of spirits twice, save for Minikin, for this was the place where adult Inhumans were born. They were not kissed as Gilwyn Toms was as an infant or given an Akari to look over them without their knowledge. Like Ghost and a handful of others, Meriel had been fully aware of the great gift being bestowed on her. Now, as she reacquainted herself with the fabulous cavern, she listened as the stalactites dripped cool water from an impossibly high ceiling. There was no fire or lantern light in the cave. Instead the place was lit by a dazzling array of gemstone clusters, cracked and fiery rocks that twinkled with unnatural light and made the chamber glow blue and purple. Every step Meriel took echoed through the endless tunnels. Up ahead, Minikin walked in silence.
The mistress had not explained the past few days to Meriel. Instead, she had merely told the girl that Amaraz had granted her request. Had it been a battle to convince the great Akari? Meriel didn’t know and Minikin wasn’t talking. The little woman wore a shroud of mystery as she led Meriel deeper into the effusive cave. Cool air wafted down from some unseen source, coiling through the rock formations to touch Meriel’s face. She had taken down her cloak and let the breeze caress her. As she skirted over the jagged ground she saw a pool up ahead. More like a vast, unmoving lake, the placid basin of crystal water reflected the darts of gem-light throughout the cave. Minikin finally came to a stop near the pool. She dipped her tiny hand into the unmoving water but caused no ripple at all. As she pulled free her hand the water closed around her fingers and was still. Minikin touched her dampened hand to the amulet around her neck. She closed her eyes and was silent for a time while the red gem in the amulet pulsed, humming as if speaking to her. Meriel didn’t know much about the amulet or its powerful Akari, but it struck her now how similar the gold-encrusted gem was to the stones twinkling in the cavern.
The cave of spirits worked its peculiar glamour on Meriel. They were far below Grimhold now, in a secret place. None who were taken here could ever remember how to return, and to Meriel’s knowledge none had ever tried. It was just one of hundreds of chambers below Grimhold, an offshoot of miles of stone corridors. But it was a holy place to the Inhumans and to Minikin in particular, who continued to commune with her own Akari while Meriel prepared her mind for the coming separation.
She would miss Sarlvarian dearly. She wondered what pain his leaving would bring. He had tirelessly protected her from her searing scars, wounds that had driven her to madness before his magic touch had soothed her. Now she had inflicted another wound upon herself, this one of guilt. She closed her eyes for a moment and begged Sarlvarian to forgive her.
And for a moment her old Akari appeared in her mind. This same thing had happened so infrequently in the past that it startled Meriel now. Sarlvarian’s handsome face held no emotion. She hoped to see a glimmer of forgiveness but found none in his peculiar eyes. He merely watched her from his far-off world of the dead, as if saying some kind of joyless goodbye. Then he quickly vanished, leaving Meriel groping and alone. She opened her eyes at once. The air around her seemed heavier. Her breathing grew laboured. The skin on her face and hands begin to tingle.
‘Minikin,’ she said with alarm. ‘Sarlvarian. . he’s left me.’
‘Yes,’ said Minikin. At last she opened her eyes. In her right hand she held tight the amulet. She reached out her left hand for Meriel. ‘He’s gone. Hold on now. .’
Meriel took Minikin’s hand. Around her the cavern began to swim. She felt hot, felt burning from her old wounds and the swooning rush of Sarlvarian’s departure.
‘What’s happening? Minikin, it hurts. .’
‘It’s the separation,’ said Minikin. ‘I warned you.’
She had indeed warned her, but Meriel hadn’t expected the pain to be so intense. Because she hadn’t felt it in years it assaulted her now. Minikin held her hand, keeping her steady until the worst of it was over. Finally Meriel got control of it. Like in the days before Sarlvarian, she forced her mind to master the pain.
‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘All right. .’
‘Can you walk?’
Meriel nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Then walk to the other side of the pool,’ said Minikin, and let go of her hand.
Meriel looked at her. ‘What for?’
‘Because, child, you will find your new Akari there.’
Astonished, Meriel glanced toward the other end of the crystal pool. She saw nothing there, just peaceful water bordered by a gemston
e wall. Yet the very thought of seeing her new Akari made the pain flee from her skin.
‘He’s there?’ she asked hopefully. ‘But I don’t see anything.’
‘She is there. Her name is Kirsil. Go to her, Meriel. She’s waiting for you.’
The pool remained perfectly calm as Meriel inched uncertainly toward it. Across the other side she still could see nothing, but she trusted Minikin and so continued on, stepping into the strange water. Quickly, she was up to her knees, but the water around her barely stirred. The cool sensation made her giddy. She turned her head to see Minikin urging her on.
‘Go on,’ said Minikin. ‘You’re all right.’
Not knowing if the water was deep or dangerous, Meriel moved slowly but confidently through the pool. By the time she was halfway across she was up to her stomach. Amazingly, she left no ripples in her wake. She could still glance down and see her reflection, unwavering. Whether it was the cold of the water or some unknown magic of the cave, she felt light-headed again, just as she had when Sarlvarian had fled. This time though there was a completeness to the feeling, as if she were no longer alone in her own skull.
‘Kirsil?’ she called. Carefully she continued forward. ‘Are you there?’
By the time she had reached the other end of the pool the feeling of completeness was on her fully. As if someone was beside her — inside her, even — she looked around expectantly, yet still saw no one in the pool or on the nearby bank. Confused, she looked across the water to where Minikin was standing.
‘Minikin, I don’t see anyone. Where is she?’
The Mistress of Grimhold stared at her, her mouth open in amazement.
‘Minikin? What’s wrong?’
‘Look down, child,’ said Minikin through a beaming grin. ‘Look into the water.’
Glancing down into the unmoving water, Meriel saw a woman gazing back at her. Golden hair moved in the slight breeze and young, perfect skin shimmered. Meriel wondered if it was the Akari she saw. .
But then remembered the way she looked once before.
‘Oh, gods and angels,’ she gasped. The mouth of the reflection moved to her own words. ‘That’s me!’
She stared at the reflection, astonished by her transformation. When she reached down to touch it, the reflection reached up magically to greet her. Their hands met. Meriel began to weep.
‘Minikin, look at me!’ she cried. ‘I’m beautiful!’
Across the pond, Minikin nodded in approval of her handiwork. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Beautiful.’ She stepped a little closer to the water. ‘You have been reborn. Welcome to the world. . Mirage.’
20
The Forging
Baron Glass had not seen Meriel for many days.
Since returning from Jador, the baron had put himself into a kind of self-exile. He was haunted by the things Paxon had told him, and how the other Liirian Seekers had fled a country in turmoil. Jador itself was under siege from Prince Aztar’s raiders, who continued to trouble Gilwyn and force Lukien into combat. The baron had returned to Grimhold weeks before, believing there was very little he could do to change the lot of his fellow Liirians or aid in the battle against the rogue tribesmen. And because he felt so useless, Thorin made no attempt to speak to Meriel.
As Thorin returned to his chamber late in the day, he discovered a note from Meriel tacked to his door asking him to come and see her that evening, just before the sun went down. Thorin had just returned from performing chores, for all the folk of Grimhold had duties and no amount of noble blood could keep a man from them. It was the baron’s job to aid with the livestock. Each day he performed his chores cheerfully. The simple act of brushing sheep and picking eggs from beneath hens strangely satisfied him, and he liked the way he was left alone to think and ponder his troubles, which had mounted significantly since last he’d been in Jador, when he had argued with Minikin about the fate of the Liirians. Tonight, he knew that Minikin was in Grimhold. She had arrived the night before, but Thorin had avoided her.
His sullenness had driven him to isolation.
Worse, he was hearing Kahldris more often now. The spirit was unmistakable. At first he had tried to ignore it, dismissing the voice as a figment of his overtaxed mind. But in recent weeks the pull of the armour had become increasingly great — Baron Glass pondered it. And as he thought about the armour more and more, the infamous spirit seeped into his brain, awaking him at night with frightening dreams or talking to him at the oddest times, when he washed his face or sat down to eat, or when he thought he was alone only to discover he was never alone, because Kahldris seemed always to be with him.
Thorin Glass was not a man easily frightened. When he had lost his arm in battle he had barely shed a tear. But the Akari had always been a mystery to him and he had always shunned the subject. He knew that the spirits were good and just. It was they who had rescued Lukien from his deathbed. Still, Thorin was always glad the spirits of Grimhold had left him alone.
Until now.
When he discovered Meriel’s note on his door, Thorin was glad for it. He had thought of her often lately, and how he had made a fool of himself confessing his love for her. Seeing her handwriting stirred something inside him, though, and he was eager suddenly to meet her. He wondered if he should tell Meriel about Kahldris, and how the devil of the armour had been tempting him. Perhaps she already knew, and that was why she wished to see him now. She had already warned him about the armour. Baron Glass took the note from the door and crumpled it in his single hand. Soon the sun would be going down.
There was no need for the note to say where to meet her. There was only one place where they met. Thorin didn’t bother changing his clothes or washing. Instead he went directly to their place in the rocks, leaving the keep just as the sun began to dip. It was a difficult climb for Thorin, who had always found balancing troublesome since losing his arm. But when at last he crested the hill and came to the jutting plateau, he saw her silhouetted against the blushing horizon. Her back was turned to him. As usual, she wore the hood of her cloak over her head. The desert sprawled out before her, looking beautiful as the light began to wane. Thorin announced himself by clearing his throat.
‘Thorin,’ she said softly. ‘I missed you.’
Her words heartened him. ‘And I you,’ he confessed. He went a little closer to her. ‘I suppose I should apologise for that.’
‘Thorin, I have something to tell you,’ she said. An edginess crept into her voice. ‘A surprise.’
‘A surprise?’ wondered Thorin aloud, and suddenly he felt the cold presence of Kahldris at his shoulder. He gasped, for the appearance of the creature always shocked him.
Not now, he pleaded silently.
The spirit answered him back in a voice that shook his skull.
Wait, came the thunderous whisper. Wait and see what she has for you.
‘Meriel, turn around,’ Thorin insisted. His heart raced. He wanted to flee.
‘No, don’t call me that,’ said Meriel. She turned quickly around but he could still not see her face.
‘What?’
‘Do not call me Meriel, Thorin. I have a new name.’
Look! declared Kahldris
Silence, monster!
Look, Baron Glass. .
Thorin shook his head to banish the voice. He watched in confusion as Meriel pulled the hood back from her face. Could she sense Kahldris’ presence, he wondered? He was about to speak, but his breath caught.
A woman he did not recognise stood before him. A beautiful woman he had never seen before, young and flawless, smiled weakly where Meriel had stood. For a moment Thorin forgot about Kahldris and his frigid touch. He stood gaping at the woman, dumbstruck.
‘What. .?’
‘It’s me, Thorin.’ Meriel’s smile bloomed and lit her perfect face. ‘It’s me!’
‘Meriel,’ sputtered Thorin. ‘What happened? You’re. .’ He groped for the word. ‘You’re beautiful.’
The young woman went to him and
quickly took his hand. ‘Don’t be afraid. There’s nothing wrong. This is me, Thorin; the way I looked before the burning.’
Still Thorin stared. ‘How?’ he asked. ‘How’s this possible?’
‘The Akari. And Minikin. She helped me, Thorin. I asked her to make me pretty again and she did!’ Meriel laughed, the first time Thorin had ever heard such a sound from her. ‘Do you see how free I am? Do you know what this means?’
Again Kahldris seized him. Do you, Baron? Do you know what this means?
Meriel’s appearance left Thorin reeling. He let go of the girl’s hand and staggered backward, trying desperately to silence Kahldris and get his mind around what was happening.
‘No, don’t be afraid,’ said Meriel. Misunderstanding his dread, she pursued him. ‘I know you don’t understand these things. But it’s all right — it’s the Akari. They made me whole again, Thorin. They gave me back my face, my hands. .’
It was true, and it stunned Thorin. Meriel was like someone he’d never seen before, without a blemish or burn. He began to realise he wasn’t dreaming or suffering some dark trick from Kahldris.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he gasped. ‘Meriel. .’
‘No, don’t.’ She put her hand up to quiet him. ‘Don’t speak. Just listen and I’ll explain.’
Thorin nodded quickly. ‘All right,’ he said.
Meriel took his hand again and led him to sit among the rocks. As he walked he realised that her hand still felt as rough as it had in the past, but it was smooth and creamy in appearance. They sat, and as the sun dipped slowly beneath the dunes of sand Meriel began to talk. Kahldris was silent as she spoke, but Thorin knew the spirit was near. A tremor in the air, like a winter breeze, betrayed the demon. Thorin focused on Meriel’s pretty face. He was enraptured by her, and every word she spoke.
Again she told him about Minikin, and how the little sorceress had granted her this great wish. She had changed her Akari, she explained, forsaking Sarlvarian for another of the strange breed, one that could change her appearance back to the way it had been.