by Eden Wolfe
Aria was dead.
62
Maeva
She looks so small.
Maeva stood over Aria’s body.
Such love in her eyes. She had such love for me, of all people. Such love for me.
A swell began in the soles of her feet, moving up her like quicksand. It was heavy and dark, rolling up her body.
Her kneecaps, her thighs, her hips, the bottom of her ribs. The weight of quicksand pushed at her though there was nothing there.
I'm going to drown on the air.
Collapsing to the floor, she felt the thunder inside her. Deep and far, ages and generations of anger and despair, from that dark place within her, the voices burst out her mouth, almost inhuman, a sound from the beginning of time. The sound was a vacuum, silent it went out and then returned from where it came.
She gasped, hardly able to breathe. She lowered herself down to the floor, pulling her body in, grabbing at arms and neck in a grotesque embrace. She smelled death on her; but even then, it was like a flower, wilting petals in the sun.
Rocking, rocking. Mother whispered love at Aria’s empty shell. She hummed a gentle tune, one that floated up from a voice inside. She'd never heard it, no one had ever sung to her this way, but it came to her from a place where once someone had loved another.
I found you where the river ends
Where the river bends back into itself
I saw it go on the way I came
Rushing back now, back to the lane
But in this place where it met itself
I saw my reflection looking back at myself
A reflection of me, how I used to be
But when I looked closer, I saw it was you
You smiled at me from the river bend
Where the river ends and takes me home
I saw your face in the river rush
I saw you blush, for you saw me
And so, my dear, I know you're near
I know you'll come where the river runs
I know I'll find you once again, where the river ends
Where the river bends.
She pulled Aria closer into her, burying her face into her shoulders and neck.
"Ariane," she whispered to her, but her cold skin gave no reply.
She felt a cool hand run across her shoulder blade.
"That's enough now." The young Ariane spoke into the Queen's ear.
"Not now, not yet." She couldn’t let her go.
"It is time. You must change your clothes and address the people."
Maeva felt weakness rolling over her. Just a few more moments. Just a few. "So soon?"
"They are waiting."
"They are waiting," Maeva repeated, and the sound of the words fell deeper inside, calming the quicksand, quieting the voices. "They are waiting."
"They will have heard the sounds of death. The people are afraid. They are coming to the square. They are waiting for you."
The bright, beautiful face, deep green eyes commanded her, even though there was no command in her words. The Queen heard it and straightened her spine.
"No, Ariane, they are waiting for you."
They both lowered their chins in a nod of understanding and respect. The Queen lifted herself taller, chest first, and walked in vacant meditation to the sink. Her reflection was no longer her own. She saw all who came before and all who would come after looking back at her. She washed her hands, her face. Pulled her hair back, tamed the errant strands.
This is as it must be, she knew. She took a new gown from the wardrobe, casting it over herself as she walked.
Perhaps it could have been different, had the world been different.
But it’s not.
Maeva took one last glance at Aria’s crumpled body on the floor.
In another world, she would have been Queen.
She raised her eyes and saw Ariane, this Ariane, whose shoulders were back and set with strength.
Yes, perhaps in another world, Aria would have been Queen. But this is the world in which we live. This is the Queen for the Lower Earth before us.
Maeva lowered her chin but kept her eyes on Ariane.
She turned toward the air of day, walking anew, feeling the freshness of it on her cheek. She stepped out onto the balcony. The hum grew quiet in the crowd of thousands.
Suddenly there was no sound across the masses; nothing moved throughout the city.
Indeed, they are waiting.
The Queen inhaled.
Air of today and air of tomorrow.
She spoke.
"You have all come. Without knowing it, this is the day you have waited for. This is the moment you have wished for. For all the fear we live in today, here is something that is certain. This is the world we have created together, and this is the land where she will reign. Queen Ariane!"
She emerged into the sun, this Ariane of the people. She smiled into her mother's eyes as the cheers rose around them, the sound rolling into the hillsides, up the skies, surrounding her, all for this Ariane. The shouts were of celebration, confusion, delight, and shock. So much change in so little time, the Queen knew the people were reeling. The campaign to prepare for war. The Guard across the city. And now Ariane. Fear ran as an undercurrent to their present celebration, she heard it in their hearts, in the rushing blood.
Maeva offered her hand to the new Queen and led her forward to the balcony's rail.
The robes fell long at Ariane's sides, deep black and velvet, she glowed brighter than innocence, her olive skin in hues of the sun. Her cheek, her lips, her brow were more perfect than perfect. Her blood ran with the voices of the past. Maeva heard them as she held her hand. She had to pull away, for Ariane’s voices were shouting at her now, burning the flesh of her palm.
Their eyes locked on each other. In this new Queen Ariane, Maeva read both assurance and threat.
The people are right to be afraid.
Turning her back to Maeva and her eyes to the people, Ariane bowed. The crowd cried louder, tears and wails, whistles shrieking as the people thrust their confidence and hopes and loyalty at her feet.
Maeva watched as Ariane took them in, looking the people in the eye, casting her benevolence down.
There was not one mouth that wasn't cheering, no hand not in applause, no eyes not alight with wonder at this perfect new Queen. Ariane drank them in, peace across her face as she read the crowd.
Then, off in the distance, Maeva saw Ariane's eyes halt, just for a moment, yet a moment too long. Maeva followed her gaze, but it was too late. She only felt the waves of the moment flying back, hitting her like shrapnel, giving rise to uncertainty somewhere deep inside her.
The voices rumbled.
Maeva squinted, but the streak of red hair ran the perimeter of the crowd before disappearing altogether into the distance.
63
Rose
Rose felt this false Ariane’s eyes on her, and she did not shy away. She saw what was behind this new Queen's eyes. She saw it.
And she despised it.
The voices began to again rise up, the voices that she had silenced so long ago. She let them now speak into her blood, muting the sounds of celebration around her.
She is no queen. She is false. She is treacherous. She is vile. She is no Ariane.
The crowd all fell quiet in her ears. Her voices spoke in unison, the same words and same message, though they tussled over each other, a mass of sound speaking the same words. She heard them and she recognized them.
And she knew they were right.
I am the true Ariane.
She had christened herself “Rose” all those years before.
Now she let "Rose" die in the afternoon sun.
She would be who she was born to be.
She stared at this new Queen who stared back, willing her to hear the truth that the voices inside her proclaimed.
I am the true Ariane. And I am the rightful Queen.
Rose turned, at once slower than time a
nd moving faster than light, feeling the eyes of former Queen and new Queen burning into the back of her head as she ran.
She did not care.
She removed her hood and stood tall, letting her twisted face feel the sunlight upon it. Letting the shame burn away. She stood taller than she'd ever been, tall as a Queen, and she ran, ran toward and away as the voices inside her shrieked with delight.
THE END
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Lower Earth Direction, Year 407
FIFTEENTH GENERATION
SINCE THE DUST
UNDER THE REIGN OF QUEEN ARIANE I
GEB COUNTY DIRECTION
Commandante - Irene (Irilena), warrior priestess of Gana
Great Geneticist - Roman of the first line
Primary Overseer - Uma of the nineteenth line
Senior Overseer - Carole of the fifth line
GANA PROTECTORATE
Chief Priestess - Habana, warrior priestess (deceased)
Keeper of the Chief - Batrasa, warrior priestess
OUTER COUNTIES MANAGEMENT
Prefect on Three-Year Cycle
DARK COUNTIES PROTECTORATE
Prefect on One-Year Cycle
CENTRAL MASS PROTECTORATE
Under Command of the Queen’s Guard
STRANGELANDS SECT
Head Sister - Daphna, former employee of Central Tower
YEAR 407
FIVE YEARS SINCE QUEEN ARIANE WAS CROWNED
1
Leadon
Leadon’s throat was dry with ocean air. Empty boats bobbed on the ocean, gently rolling over the waves as the tide moved in. Fishing rowboats ducked alongside sky-high ocean vessels built in the generations before the Mist. Leadon watched them dancing on the water, but her mind was off in the heavens. Her heart ached for her absent friend.
Five years had passed since Aria had been declared Queen. For Lea, it was a lifetime ago.
She walked away from the ocean, toward the river that ran up alongside the main village.
Aria. Give up on the Aria of your memories, Lea. She is Queen Ariane now. And she has no time for the likes of a mere subject like you. Know your place.
Leadon sighed into the river, watching it rush on. She kneeled for a moment, remembering how she’d watched Aria rearrange the stones so that the currents would invite the fish back.
Her boots nearly soaked through but she didn’t see a single fish. She walked on, following the twists and turns of the riverbed. It wound along and up, rounding the hills before reaching its destination. Lea approached the end of the town limits, the low wood fence the sign that she ought to turn around. But she wasn't ready to go home yet.
Her fingers ran along the wood fence, little splinters catching in her skin, then falling aside. The fence was as old as the new world. More than four hundred years had passed since the settlers after the Final War had laid down borders in Lower Earth. The warrior priestesses had been on the land for generations before and had never needed borders to know where they lived. Then a wooden fence became all that created peace between them and the settlers' society. It had worked.
And then it didn't.
No fault of the fence, Leadon thought, People were the problem.
She wasn't sure who had been the first to negotiate with the new peoples. Nor why. These weren't the stories recounted over fires in midnight rituals. They could begrudge those forbearers all they wanted. Nothing had changed since the first warrior priestess had started making concessions. Maybe it was during the wheat shortage. Or the period of the locusts. All of Lower Earth had suffered then. Desperation was a powerful driver for change. For loosening limitations. For giving in.
Now the Ganese weren't allowed to leave the broader Gana limits. At all. East and West Gana, despite their cultural differences, were united under this decree. Only travel allowed that didn't require written authorization was to the capital city via the Geb Free Route. And the Ganese leaders had all but forbade the warrior priestesses to go, even though they were allowed.
The short wood fence turned to stronger timber as Leadon reached the border of Gana proper. It didn't look like much. A wooden gate, unlocked. Tall and crooked. Unprotected wood making a hatch that didn't keep anyone or anything out.
But it kept her in.
If only Leadon could get permission from the Keeper of the Chief. But Batrasa had held the role for several years, and Batrasa would never let Leadon go. Not even if she explained why. Batrasa had been skeptical of Leadon from the start; maybe even since before she was born.
So she didn't ask.
She put her hand on the wood of the gate that was latched in diamond shapes. She could see through to the plains. A couple of days' journey to Geb. How different the world was there. Twenty-four years she'd lived, confined in Gana's borders. Two days’ journey was all it took to change worlds, though Leadon had no idea what that would look like. It only came to her in stories from the few who'd traveled to negotiate new terms for Gana with the capital. She dreamed of one day taking the Free Route to Geb, to follow the steps of her people when the settlers had first established the city.
"Leadon!"
"What? What?" Leadon felt like she'd been caught, though she wasn't doing anything wrong. Only in her imagination was she breaking the rule. She couldn't be persecuted for what happened in her imagination. Not yet anyway.
The woman cocked her head as she led a horse toward the stables on the edge of the village. "Why are you so startled? It's almost time for the quorum, we’ve got to prepare."
Leadon closed her eyes. She would one day find herself in real trouble if she missed the third-day prayers quorum.
"I'm coming. Of course, I'm coming. Just doing some morning exercise," she lied. "Cooling down from climbing." She mustered a smile, "Thanks, Miliah."
"Nothing to thank for,” she patted the wide neck of the deep chestnut-colored horse. “We have a responsibility to each other."
"Indeed."
Miliah nodded and turned, the flaps of her leather tunic slapping her sides as she went, the Ganese steed walking proud at her side. Her breastplate was ceremonial; Lea couldn't see why she'd be wearing it for third-day prayers. This wasn't a special day.
Or is it? Where is my mind? No, today is not a skills parade, nor a sacrifice. But I'm missing something.
She left the gate out of Gana behind her and walked towards the village center. Even though they still called it a village, it had the population and activity of a city. More than a hundred thousand of them now, ever since the Willing Woman program had been more accepted among the priestesses. As she arrived, the city was already bustling. She had to find her quorum quickly.
"Lea, thank heavens! Get in here and prep the stew." Her quorum lead, Shyanne was running between a boiling pot and sizzling root vegetables on the fire.
Lea walked to the pot and gave it a stir. "Goat? Today? What is going on?"
"Where have you been, Leadon?" Shyanne came over and put her hands on Lea's cheeks. "Incredible how you live in your own head. The whole morning has been buzzing with it. Batrasa has called a full quorum."
"A full quorum? What? Why? We haven't had one since Habana died."
Shyanne lifted her hands, urging Lea to recognize some seemingly obvious fact.
Lea shook her head. "Batrasa - is Batrasa dying?"
"Why else would we have a full quorum? Stir the pot, for heaven’s sake!"
Leadon stirred but her mind was absent. Batrasa, dying
. If true, it could throw all of Gana into disorder for a period. No one expected it this soon. Habana's successor hadn't even been announced. Batrasa may have been the Keeper of the Chief, but she was no Chief. How could this happen? And who would step in next?
Anyook is too rash. She's probably the most likely selection, but we'll end up bandits and thugs if she has her way. Just because she exudes power doesn't mean that she has the makings of our leader. Priyantha? Possible, but she is too concerned about her inner circle. Mitam? Maybe, she's a bit young, just had her woman's day. But she's promising. If only she had more experience. If only Batrasa could hold on a few more years - announce Habana's successor and provide training. Look how her training of the Queen has worked; Aria will likely be the greatest Queen Lower Earth has ever seen. Much of that must be due to Batrasa. How I miss Aria. If only Aria would step in and help decide.
"You're letting it burn, Lea. I can smell it from here."
"Sorry," she picked up the pace of her wrist's twisting. It was a large pot. They'd be responsible for feeding three hundred mouths. Every feeder house would be.
Maybe I can get a few moments with Batrasa. Perhaps she would listen to me, given my background. I could convince her to ask Aria. I mean, Queen Ariane. If the Queen made the announcement, then everyone would have to follow. Habana had always been attentive to my ideas. I know that I was a genetic curiosity for her, but still, she seemed to appreciate my insights. Maybe Batrasa will do the same.
"Leadon! The stew, for heaven's sake!"
Leadon and Shyanne bumped through the growing crowd as they took the cart of stew into the center of the village. Most Ganese would be there, except for the very ill and those overseeing the borders. The lookouts were more ornamental now than anything else, their roles nearly defunct. But when Leadon looked up and saw them at their stations, she felt a puff in her chest. They stood as still as statues, a message facing the rest of the world, an enduring message. The border lookouts had been there since the outbreak of the Final War. And they'd be there until the next assault on their tribe, whatever that may look like.