When the Goddess Wakes

by Howard Andrew Jones

  “Do you think we are in any danger from his magics?” the councilor asked.

  Elenai didn’t think that had been N’lahr’s point at all. He had merely meant to prepare her for surprises.

  “No.”

  She settled into the chair and placed her hands upon its arms. “Let’s get this meeting under way.”

  N’lahr signaled to the servants, who’d taken positions by the distant doors. They took hold of the polished handles rising vertically along the dark wood, then pulled upon them, their timing so exquisite that both moved at the same rate of speed at the same moment.

  A third attendant opened her hands to the waiting Naor. “Welcome, visitors. Please follow me.” She then pivoted with precision that would have earned a grunt of appreciation from Asrahn himself, and started down the blue carpet for the throne.

  Trailing her were two figures. Vannek, in brown leggings and black lacquered armor. Her—no, his, she needed to remember that—waist and hips and chest were well-concealed by his thick garments. His right ear was bandaged. Straight brown hair framed his beardless, comely features.

  The other person, two steps behind and on Vannek’s right, was the man she’d last seen staring at her in the moments after N’lahr had slain Mazakan. He was blue-eyed, bearded, with receding brown hair with a hint of red. He wore a red robe, belted in black.

  The palace servant halted eight paces out from the dais, lowering her left hand, gently emphasizing that was where visitors should stop. She glided to the right, where she stood motionless beside one of the curtains.

  While the mage bowed from the waist and opened his scarred palms, the general met Elenai’s gaze with cool appraisal before turning in open curiosity to N’lahr.

  The mage addressed Elenai as he straightened. “We bid you greeting, Majesty,” he said, his tone warmly formal. “And you as well, Commander N’lahr. You Altenerai are a constant source of surprise.”

  “We could say the same of the Naor,” Elenai replied. “We welcome you to these halls. How are you called?”

  “I am Coadjuter Muragan, of the Red Horn Mountains. And this is Lord General Vannek, grandson of Great Mazakan.”

  At mention of that name, Elenai struggled to maintain a neutral expression. Mazakan was responsible for untold thousands of murders, rapes, kidnappings, thefts, and destruction of property, along with countless other crimes.

  Confronting his descendant now, the strength of her hatred for the Naor burned like a living fire in the depths of her heart. A steely tone she hadn’t intended entered her voice. “You know Commander N’lahr and myself. With us is Councilor Brevahn. We want to make sure that you understood our missive last night. You must swear that you and your people will obey our laws, or there can be no peace.”

  The general bowed his head, as if expecting this. Muragan answered in his place. “The Lord General has read carefully, including your outline of major laws, and affirms his understanding. His wish is for peace between our people, and for stability and security for his followers as well as yours.”

  “What does the general himself say?” Elenai asked.

  Muragan looked to his leader, who remained silent for a moment, then raised a hand to the mage. His voice proved gruff, his manner blunt. “My people need to know they have not been tricked. That they are not prisoners.”

  “They are not prisoners,” Elenai said. “They’re allies.”

  “We are watched,” Vannek said. “We are guarded. You and I, we know trust will take time. But my soldiers are unsettled.”

  “They need to see some other gesture,” Muragan said.

  “A gesture,” Elenai repeated. “Your soldiers invaded our land and killed our people. And they want a gesture?”

  “This was a contest.” Vannek sounded confused. “Both of us strove our utmost, and your side won.”

  “It was a contest we didn’t ask for. And if we won a contest, what are our spoils?”

  “Your spoils are our warriors,” Vannek said, dismay at something so obvious clear in his voice. “They are ready to fight for you. Come, tell them what you plan for them.”

  Elenai tried to decide what someone wise might answer, and noticed the sharp look N’lahr gave her. He was trying to warn her. He’d said the Naor general might be worried about the security of his command, and she’d lost sight of that. She wondered how to shift to a more reassuring tone.

  Then Muragan provided an opening. “The Lord General intends to aid your fight against the old queen.”

  She should not have been startled the Naor knew that.

  Vannek wasted no time expanding on that idea. “You wish a swift strike? Your soldiers and mine can mount the land treaders and take the battle to her. And there is more. Muragan is restoring one of the dragons you downed in the battle over the plains. It will be yours to command.”

  Elenai had wondered what other surprises she’d learn about.

  N’lahr spoke. “When do you expect your dragon to recover?”

  The general looked to his mage, who answered. “It’s hard to know, Commander. It may require some days yet.”

  “When will you launch your attack?” Vannek pressed.

  Elenai had no intention of revealing that the Altenerai had no schedule because they hadn’t learned how to reach the queen. “We’re finalizing our plans.” She regarded Vannek, standing proud and impatient. Much as she disliked the idea of treating with the blood of Mazakan, it would be far easier to work with these new allies if they were held in check by a leader with whom she could actually maintain a dialogue. “Are you prepared to receive Alten Rylin today so he can accustom your men to our horn calls and maneuvers?”

  “His instruction is welcome,” Vannek said. “We’re allies now and must move together.”

  “Our allies do not use blood magic,” Elenai said. “How was your dragon saved?”

  After a short pause, Vannek inclined his head. “I see your concern. Muragan had already begun the process before we received your note. But no man, woman, or child was injured in his sorcery.”

  “You used blood from the conjured beasts, then,” N’lahr speculated.

  The mage answered. “And another dragon, dying. Yes.”

  “Your Majesty, black magic should not be permissible in the five realms,” Brevahn said with disdain.

  Elenai lifted the fingers of her hand on the chair arm, and that small, controlled gesture stilled everyone. The reaction surprised and pleased her. “Will more blood magic be required to finish its healing?”

  “Yes,” Muragan answered.

  “I will permit it,” Elenai said, wondering if she had agreed too quickly. “In the future, take no magical actions, especially involving blood magic, without prior consent.”

  “If that is your wish,” Vannek said with obvious reluctance.

  “It is. Now if you think it will be good for morale, notify your troops I will speak with them this afternoon.”

  “Good,” Vannek said, and then, as if aware that he had not sounded the least bit deferential, bowed his head. “Troops should know their ruler.”

  “I agree.” Elenai was acutely conscious of Brevahn at her shoulder and guessed that he would want her to talk about the Naor presence over the long term. Now might not be the time for specifics, but surely she should introduce the topic. “Over the next days we’ll have to discuss your plans for the future.”

  “I tire of Naor realms,” Vannek said. “Your people have resources mine do not. It seems to me you might share some of your land with allies.”

  “Out of the question,” Brevahn said quietly, but not so quietly it could not be heard throughout the room.

  Elenai felt a similar sentiment. N’lahr stirred beside her, but she guessed what he would advise. “We might welcome allies in our homelands,” she said, then paused for a moment while she organized her thoughts. “But only if they can truly follow our customs. I would want it clear that you and your people understand them.” How to explain culture to a Naor? “For
example, women have an equal place in any society that exists within our realms, and the vulnerable are protected.”

  “I’m certain we can have many thought-provoking discussions on the subject,” Muragan said. “But the customs of our people will be unlikely to shift quickly.”

  “I mean to shift them,” Vannek said doggedly. “But Muragan is right. It will not be a simple matter.”

  Elenai appreciated the honest answers. On reflection, she saw that both had been forthright with all of their requests as well as their intentions. Just as her chamber had been illuminated this morning when she parted a curtain, she understood with incredible clarity that ensuring Vannek’s command over his people wasn’t just preferred, it was crucial. The Naor general was uniquely suited to bring their people together, and despite herself, she sensed a growing rapport. Until that moment she had thought of the Naor as an irritating necessity. Now she perceived a whole range of possibilities that had never before existed.

  Placed along the border, Vannek’s tribe could be an excellent buffer against foreign raiding that would almost certainly resume. And a Naor settlement that prospered without slaves and without the strong preying upon the weak might inspire changes among the external Naor, maybe even lessening their incentives for conquest.

  “We have much more to discuss over the coming days,” Elenai said. Waxing optimistic, she decided to put words to her hope. “Though centuries of distrust lie between us, let the two of us pledge to work for a future that will better both of our peoples.”

  Vannek’s expression softened ever so slightly. “If you promise to treat my soldiers with the care you treat your own, then I will swear this with you.”

  “I swear it,” Elenai said. “By my ring.” She raised her left hand, showing her knuckles to the general, and set her sapphire glowing.

  Vannek lifted his own hand, then smote his breastplate above his heart. “Then I swear it by my blood.”

  “So be it. I’ll visit this afternoon, on the third bell.”

  Vannek looked as though he planned to say more, then stopped, and Elenai realized that a squire had entered from the side door and waited with a note. It was Derahd, the second ranker she’d stood the wall with yesterday. He started to smile at her, then the apparent gravity of the moment struck and he grew rigidly serious, aware he was a lowly soldier in the presence of the mighty.

  While she would never encourage fraternization among the ranks, Elenai resolved then and there she would never permit full formality between herself and those who’d defended Darassus with her yesterday, and returned a slight, answering smile. He brightened, and she returned her attention to the Naor.

  “We will receive you with honor,” Vannek said, then offered a short bow.

  Elenai responded with what she hoped was a regal nod.

  An uncomfortable moment followed while she and the general looked back and forth at one other. Elenai wasn’t certain how to conclude the meeting.

  N’lahr signaled to the lead servant, who bowed with great formality to Elenai, then walked to the Naor and gestured toward the door.

  Muragan presented a formal bow, and then both the general and the mage followed the servant for the double doors opening before them.

  “Your pardon,” N’lahr said, and stepped over to Derahd, who saluted and then spoke softly to the commander.

  Elenai waited until the door shut behind the Naor before climbing to her feet and stretching sore shoulders, watching N’lahr’s face as he listened to the report. The commander’s head rose, his expression clearing, by which she understood the news had been good. Derahd’s delight was easier to read, though he quickly subdued his own grin. He then saluted N’lahr and bowed formally to Elenai.

  Brevahn spoke to her as the squire departed. “You aren’t really going to give the Naor any of our lands, are you?”

  “If we’re going to civilize them, we need to keep them close to our civilization, don’t we?” While Brevahn stared fish-mouthed at her, N’lahr rejoined her and spoke before the councilor could object further.

  “Varama has arrived. She thinks she knows how to reach the queen.”

  8

  Chamber of the Ring

  “You must forgive us,” Elenai said to a discomfited Councilor Brevahn. “I’ll send word to you after the meeting.”

  “Please do,” he said. “We have much more to discuss before you address the Naor general and her troops.”

  “His,” N’lahr corrected on his way out the door.

  Elenai realized it would take some effort on her own part to get that gender tag right. At sight of Brevahn’s furrowing brow she decided to make clear she wanted his advice. “Give the wording I need to use some thought. I’ll welcome your ideas.”

  “I appreciate that. And we’ve still to discuss a timetable for your swearing in and formal coronation.”

  She nodded once as though the thought of that conversation wasn’t cringe inducing, then raised a hand in farewell and followed the commander.

  She caught up to N’lahr in the hallway, matching his long strides as they passed paintings and banners from the history of the five realms.

  “Nicely handled,” the commander said. “With both the Naor and the councilor. You should be wary of both, though.”

  “I don’t think I fully reassured either.”

  “Command is a challenging path.”

  They arrived at the statue of a stern bronze woman in armor guarding dark paneled double doors. N’lahr paused to return the statue’s salute and Elenai repeated the gesture, temporarily overwhelmed. It had been a long morning, and now, like all Altenerai who’d come after Altenara’s death, she was saluting the queen’s life-size image. While Elenai was fully a member of the corps the long-dead queen had founded, she had never participated in this particular ritual.

  She studied the monarch’s somber features. Here, from across the centuries, she beheld her predecessor, both queen and alten. She felt an intense and unexpected kinship for the young-looking woman, and worried that she might be her mirror image. Rather than a queen who became alten, launched the corps, and founded the realms, she might be the alten who became queen, and oversaw the final days not only of the corps, but the kingdom itself.

  No. She had learned about the foundations Altenara had laid, and the trials she had endured to strengthen her fragile alliance, and came more fully to attention. “I will not let you down,” she vowed, as much to herself as her corps’ namesake. Then she followed N’lahr through the double doors.

  She had wrangled permission to be part of the chamber’s cleanup crew when she was a second ranker, so the six-sided room with its wood-paneled walls and high stained glass wasn’t a novelty to her. That didn’t change the honor she felt to be entering as a member for the first time.

  Light streamed through multihued windows below the ceiling dome, five of them illuminating beautifully wrought landscapes from each of the realms, the remaining window of opaque beveled panes decorated with a shining sapphire beneath a slender silver crown, symbolizing the Altenerai Corps and the authority of the queen.

  Below those windows sat a hexagonal table, three chairs on each side for each of the five realms, and another trio reserved at the head for the Master of Squires, the Altenerai commander, and the queen. Seventeen seats meant for Altenerai in all. She wondered how long it had been since that many were seated here. Not since the early days of Renik’s command, probably.

  On the left, Kyrkenall hunched forward in his chair, speaking earnestly with Varama. Elenai couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen the tall, spare alten in uniform. Though it was easy to remember Varama’s skin held a bluish tint, upon seeing her, that tone was always more subtle than she recalled. The older woman had pushed back her unruly curling hair so that her high forehead was even more prominent. Her face was lined with worry and fatigue.

  N’lahr spoke with two squires by a side door. One was the third ranker Welahn, holding a sheaf of papers, pen, and ink bottle. The
other carried a portable desk and chair. After a moment the squires saluted and set up to the right of the central door.

  Elenai was of Arappa, so it only made sense she occupy one of the three seats at that side of table. She approached a chair one section over from where Rylin and Thelar were completing a tense exchange under the stained glass of Erymyr. Thelar nodded gravely to her and stepped away. Rylin smiled with a trace of his old charm. “Hail.”

  “Hail, Alten Rylin.”

  As N’lahr lowered himself into the commander’s chair, the others shuffled into their seats.

  “‘Well met is well meant, for good is the order.’” N’lahr used a well-known quote from an Altenerai legend. The answering tones of “Hail, Altenerai” rang through the hall, with particular gusto from Kyrkenall.

  “This is all of us in Darassus,” N’lahr said. “Tretton and Gyldara are en route. Enada commands the recovery forces in Alantris. And Cerai has left us, in word and deed. I’ve invited Exalt Thelar to join us, as he’ll figure prominently in the plans we make. Varama has vital information in forming those plans, but we have a few important details to manage first.”

  He paused, and the moment stretched on longer than was comfortable. Elenai wondered if he was having another spell where time had slowed for him. Just as she was readying to ask, he continued. “I’m told my predecessor dispensed with note-taking. So I’ve no idea how many meetings have been called during my absence. I propose this be counted as Meeting One of our new era, in the name not of the queen who abandoned us, but for memory of Queen Altenara. What say you?”

  A chorus of ayes answered as the squire in the corner scribbled furiously.

  “Next,” N’lahr continued, “we must welcome Alten Elenai Dartaan to the table. She has never sat in this company before.”

  She felt herself blush as she was greeted officially by her assembled comrades.

  As N’lahr readied to resume, Thelar cleared his throat. “Commander, if I may.” The exalt rose from a chair he’d taken beneath the stained glass of The Fragments, lovely green mountains cut by a shining blue river.