Born in Light

by Kim ten Tusscher

  Lilith shook her head. She didn’t want to be responsible for Seraph’s death.

  Almor hesitated and kicked Seraph instead. He walked up to Lilith. She averted her head and looked at Seraph. The Purified man was too badly injured to sit up. He held his hands tightly against his stomach.

  Almor knelt in front of Lilith and brought his left hand to her chin, making her look at him. “I want to protect you, Lilith.”

  She didn’t respond. At long last, Almor walked away. Lilith lowered herself to her knees and cleaned her hands with the snow. She noticed that she wasn’t only covered in Seraph’s blood. There was a big cut on the inside of her hand.

  Even though the bloodstains were gone, Lilith could still see them. “Kasimirh also said that he wanted to protect me,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at Almor. He was struggling with a piece of bandage that he wanted to put on his arm.

  She looked back at Seraph, who was lying motionless. She got up and walked towards him. Only now, did she feel that her leg was hurting.

  Seraph was still bleeding. What difference did it make that she had stopped her father if he died anyway? She would still be a murderer, because she was the one who had wounded him.

  Never before had Lilith killed anyone in human form. It was a line she absolutely didn’t want to cross. She looked at Almor again. He was pulling at the tent in an attempt to fold it. He wasn’t paying attention to her. Maybe she could still undo what she had done. Her father had said that all women in Ludmilla’s family had healing powers, after all.

  She squatted and moved Seraph’s hands aside. She had primarily stabbed him in the shoulder, but his stomach wound looked the most serious. Lilith laid her hands on it. She didn’t know what to do, though, and she didn’t dare ask Almor.

  “When will you finally understand that you can’t escape your destiny?” Seraph whispered. “Everybody who knows what you are wants to do the same thing with you.”

  Lilith stole a glance at Almor. She didn’t want to listen to Seraph, but his words kept echoing in her head.

  She flapped her hands and placed them back on Seraph’s stomach. She grumbled, because nothing happened.

  “Stop that!” Almor dragged her away.

  She tried to hit him to free herself. “Tell me how my mother did it!”

  He tightened his grip on her upper arm to keep her away from Seraph. She moaned.

  “You’re hurting me. Let me go!”

  “No. I won’t let you waste your energy on him.”

  “You want him to die,” she hissed.

  Almor shrugged and let go of her. She crawled towards Seraph, but her father pulled her back again. “I forbid you to do it, Lilith. If you want to heal someone, try me.”

  She glared at him furiously. “You’re not a whit better than Seraph,” she hissed.

  “What! I’m nothing like him. How dare you say that?” Almor took a step in her direction.

  Lilith crouched. “You enjoy vengeance as much as he does,” she whispered. “You believe in it, just as much as he does.”

  “I’m nothing like him,” Almor repeated. “He abused you. That alone is reason enough to punish him.”

  Lilith shrugged.

  “Think about the Inuuk he has killed!”

  “Like it’s going to help them if he’s dead!” Lilith walked past Almor to her belongings.

  “Alive, he’ll bring us nothing but trouble,” Almor said. “I guarantee it. He’ll come after us and strike when we least expect it.”

  “In that case, we’re taking him with us.”

  “Lilith… Stop and think!”

  “This is my decision, Almor.” Lilith knelt beside Seraph and bandaged the worst wounds. The fact that she couldn’t heal him didn’t mean she couldn’t do anything for him. After that, she walked away to fold up the tent. Almor found himself a rope and tied Seraph up. Without a word, he handed Lilith Seraph’s gloves and helped her with the tent.

  “Why have you come?” Lilith asked her father. “Are you going to be the one who orders me to kill from now on?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why were you encouraging me?”

  “It would be better for everybody if Seraph’s dead. If you can’t do it, then please let me.”

  Shaking her head, Lilith turned around.

  Almor sighed. “All right, I’ll let him live for you.”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. The careful steps they had made in each others direction over the past days had been undone by the fight. They loaded the sledges in silence and took off.

  4

  Ferhdessar was seated at the head of the table, listening to Kiril. The general was reporting about the fighting in the city. The sorcerer found it hard to pay attention. The tight bandages around his body annoyed him. He was feeling dazed because of the potions he had been given against the pain. He longed for his bed, but also knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. There was too much on his mind.

  “We’ve managed to stop the Jakobinians at the bridge between the sixth and seventh rock pillar. There’s heavy fighting there right now.”

  Nadesh was built on ten tall peaks, protruding from the flat landscape like ten fingers. They were connected by bridges. Enemies could be seen approaching long before they reached Nadesh. At the foot of the pillars, at the only entrance to the city, there was a fortress to protect the city from attacks. In all of Merzia’s history, the people of Nadesh had never been involved in any combat.

  Because the Merzians had believed themselves to be safe, the Jakobinians had been able to rapidly seize a large part of the capital. Most of the soldiers who were in town for the wedding of Yvar and Nigesanla, had been celebrating. Kasimirh hadn’t been noticed until he attacked the king from a distance of ten paces. Since then, Merzia had been rapidly losing control of its capital.

  “Kasimirh shows up now and again to take part in the fighting,” Kiril continued, “but there are two more sorcerers hiding in the high-rise buildings, bombarding us with fireballs.”

  Ferhdessar sighed and immediately grabbed for his chest. A flash of light in the corner of his eye drew his attention. Afifa was standing against the wall. Her spear had reflected the light when she moved. The sorceress had arrived in Nadesh shortly after the attack and, of her own accord, had assumed the role of bodyguard. Thankfully, she hadn’t offered to heal him. He had apparently been clear enough the first time that he wouldn’t allow it.

  “There’s nothing we can do against them, because they’re out of our reach,” Wolter added.

  Ferhdessar knew about the sorcerers and had insisted that he fight them. The generals had forbidden it, because he was still too weak. Afifa had taken his place, but couldn’t handle them on her own. She excelled at hand-to-hand combat, but wasn’t given the opportunity.

  “We can defend the bridge to stop Kasimirh from taking the last part of the city, but it won’t be easy to seize the bridge ourselves and subsequently win back Nadesh,” said Kiril.

  “I think it would be best if we left the city,” Zander suggested.

  “How can we make that decision?” was Ferhdessar’s irritated response. “Nadesh is Merzia. We can’t leave this city in the hands of the enemy.”

  “The battles to maintain control of the bridge are costing dozens of lives every day. It’s all for nothing. We can use the fortress to isolate the city from the outside world. It’s easy to block the narrow paths leading up into the rocks. We’ll catch Kasimirh in a trap, and he’ll starve to death. All we have to do is wait for him to surrender.”

  Ferhdessar shook his head.

  “If we keep going the way we are, our army will soon be depleted, forcing us to surrender,” said Zander.

  Kiril and Branko nodded.

  Ferhdessar was becoming angry. To leave the city now would be to hand victory to Kasimirh on a platter. He tried to not feel betrayed, but didn’t quite succeed. Ever since the attack on Yvar, he wanted to blame the generals for everything that had
happened. They had been the ones to suggest an alliance with Zuzeca.

  “Is there any positive news?” he grumbled.

  “Not much,” Eoghan answered. “But at least we’ve been able to stop Kasimirh from capturing more parts of the city.”

  “So, we aren’t doing all that bad. We keep doing what we’re doing.” Ferhdessar rose to his feet.

  “Not all that bad?” Zander rose and stood in front of Ferhdessar. “None of the important peaks are under our control. Our leader is dead…”

  Ferhdessar grabbed Zander’s collar with both hands and brought his face close to the general’s. “Yvar is dead, but Merzia is not without a leader.”

  Afifa stepped forwards. Zander looked at her and pushed Ferhdessar away. “The only reason why we accept your authority is to give the people the impression that Yvar is still alive. We’re going to have to rule Merzia as a team.”

  “You voted for me. You can’t just undo that.”

  Ferhdessar stared at Zander until the general cast down his eyes. There had been violent discussion about Yvar’s successor. Ferhdessar thought he was entitled to the leadership, because he had been closest to Yvar. Kiril had objected and had reminded him that Yvar hadn’t been too happy about Ferhdessar’s decisions over the past few months.

  Ferhdessar looked at Kiril and then moved his gaze towards Branko, a young general who owed Yvar a lot. To prove his fealty to the dead king, he had voted against Ferhdessar.

  “Then be a leader and make the one decision that will actually do Merzia some good,” said Zander. “We have to leave Nadesh. We don’t have a chance if we stay in this ruined capital.”

  “It’s my decision.”

  Ferhdessar looked at Zander. The general had helped him win the vote, albeit grudgingly. As the oldest of the commanding officers, he had the influence as well as the power to reverse the decision.

  Zander sat down and kept quiet. Ferhdessar threw everyone a conceited look and turned around. He had nothing to fear of the other two generals. Wolter had always been on his side. Eoghan had been Purified and therefore harboured so much hatred against Zuzeca and the Jakobinians – who, in his mind, were responsible for the atrocities that had been carried out in Margal’s name – that he jumped at every chance to fight them.

  “Maybe we should all sleep on it before we make a decision,” Ferhdessar said before he left the room. Afifa followed him. She beckoned five bodyguards. The guards remained outside when, not much later, Ferhdessar entered another room.

  He was greeted by the sweet smell of cedar being burned to repel insects. The smell of the smoke had intermingled with that of the frankincense with which Yvar’s body was being washed. Ferhdessar sat down on a stool against the wall and watched the four embalmers at work.

  The king had been laid out on a wooden table. From where he was sitting, Ferhdessar couldn’t see the damaged side of the body, but he knew what it looked like. From neck to hip, everything was missing. Yvar’s arm, shoulder, and part of his ribs and the organs underneath had been obliterated by Kasimirh. Ferhdessar doubted that this had been Kasimirh’s intention, but the prophet had achieved his goal.

  Ferhdessar enjoyed sitting here, because the whispered prayers of the embalmers had a calming effect. The four men didn’t pay attention to him or to anything going on outside the room. Preserving the body took up all their attention. Here, Ferhdessar could think quietly.

  One of the embalmers renewed the candles in the candlesticks and lit them. The light barely illuminated the room. Ferhdessar smiled briefly. Yvar would definitely appreciate being surrounded by candles during the preparations for his last journey. Ferhdessar could almost hear him explain. Your electric light casts hard shadows and crawls into almost every corner. It reveals everything, including that which doesn’t want to be seen. Candlelight only illuminates what’s necessary. Not every detail of death needs to be visible to us. It’s better to light a candle too few than one too many.

  Not that there was still a choice between lamplight and candlelight. Kasimirh had destroyed the wheels that generated electricity the day after Yvar’s murder. The lamplight that had been so characteristic of the city had disappeared. There weren’t enough candles to illuminate all the houses, so at night Nadesh was pitch-dark. The loss of electricity had been detrimental to the morale of the Merzians, and Kasimirh had been able to capture the city at great speed.

  Ferhdessar thought back to the long conversations – by candlelight – that he and Yvar had held together. They could talk about anything. A difference of opinion resulted in the most interesting discussions. Ferhdessar rested his head in his hands. That was before Kasimirh had popped up. Yvar and Ferhdessar hadn’t been able to see eye to eye where it concerned Jakob and the question of how to deal with the threat. For the first time, something had come between them.

  Why didn’t you trust my advice when it came to Zuzeca? I warned you, Yvar.

  Ferhdessar looked up and sighed. He should have tried harder to persuade Yvar. He hadn’t trusted the arrangement with Zuzeca one bit, and he should have been on the alert. However, Ferhdessar never would have thought that Zuzeca was collaborating with Kasimirh. Even in hindsight he still didn’t see how he could have known about the double role that Zuzeca had been playing. They had outsmarted him.

  A cry of pain escaped his lips. Ferhdessar grabbed for his chest. He cursed his body for being weaker than his mind. Kasimirh would never have been this successful if Ferhdessar hadn’t been this badly injured. If he’d had his full strength, he would have taken revenge ages ago.

  He got up and looked at Yvar’s face. It was the last time he would see him like this. Today, the body was going to be wrapped in salt to dehydrate it completely. After that, he would no longer look like the Yvar that Ferhdessar had known.

  He bowed. Farewell, Yvar. I want to thank you for the friendship we had. May Gaia admit you into her realm. He strode out of the room.

  In the hall he picked out two bodyguards. “Convey my orders to the generals,” he said. “The fighting in the seventh district must be intensified.”

  Trailed by three bodyguards and Afifa, Ferhdessar sped along the narrow, dark hallways of the citadel. There was silence. The biggest part of the army was fighting in the city. The remaining soldiers were asleep.

  He beckoned Afifa to enter, and closed the door to his room behind them. He walked to the small window were a tiny ray of light entered the room and tugged at the curtain to close it. The thick velvet muffled the sounds from the battle scene but couldn’t shut them out altogether.

  Ferhdessar glanced at Afifa. She was lighting the candles. There was a way for him to regain his strength, but he didn’t like it one bit.

  The candlelight illuminated the paper on which Ferhdessar had drawn up his plans to recapture the palace. During sleepless nights, he had made sketches of the different possibilities. Ferhdessar smoothed down the piece of paper and nodded. This was in Merzia’s and his own best interest. He was going to show the generals that he was a worthy ruler of Merzia.

  “The generals are right,” Afifa said, as she looked over his shoulder.

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  Ferhdessar emptied his pouch and spread the talismans and amulets across the table. He laid aside three silver necklaces in the shape of a snail’s shell.

  “What are you going to do with those soul boxes?” Afifa asked suspiciously.

  Ferhdessar turned around. He had always thought Afifa an attractive woman, but since he knew she was a healeress, loathing dominated his feelings. “I want you to heal me, so that I’m strong enough to use magic,” he said.

  Afifa raised her eyebrows. “You want me to heal you?”

  “It’s the right thing to do for Merzia.” Ferhdessar picked up a candlestick and walked into the adjacent room where there was a bed.

  “What if I refuse?”

  “You won’t. This needs to happen, and you’re the only healeress in Nadesh.” He fell silent. “Given the
choice, I’d never allow you to touch me again. You know that as well as I do.”

  Afifa huffed. “You can’t force me.”

  Ferhdessar seized her arm. “I will force you if I have to. I’m the ruler of Merzia; you must obey me. If you don’t want to, then you can leave this country.” He looked at her. Her eyes were glowing dangerously. He almost hoped that she would leave, so that she wouldn’t have to touch him with her diabolical gift.

  Afifa nodded reluctantly, her mouth an angry line. She followed him into the bedroom.

  “I’m helping you because I want to, not because you’re trying to force me.”

  Ferhdessar shrugged and lay down. “I don’t care. Do what you have to do and do it quickly.”

  Afifa rubbed her hands and held them against Ferhdessar’s temples. He was starting to feel clammy, as if he was running a fever. He shivered uncontrollably.

  After a few minutes, Afifa said sternly: “You’re opposing me, Ferhdessar.”

  Something was starting to pull at his mind. His injuries began to burn. Ferhdessar clutched the sheets, fighting the impulse to make Afifa stop. Healing wasn’t just beneficial, as this woman liked to make him believe. Afifa could use her energy to stop his heart without a warning. Centuries ago, a king had been killed like that, and Merzia had nearly been destroyed.

  Ferhdessar jolted upright and pushed Afifa away. “Enough!”

  The sorceress regained her balance and grabbed hold of him again. “I haven’t finished.”

  Once more, Ferhdessar pushed her away. “Enough, I said.” He seized his dagger and used it to keep Afifa at bay.

  “Maybe you’re right,” she said grim-faced. “You seem to have regained most of your strength.”

  Even though he was tired, Ferhdessar did feel better than before. His injuries no longer gave him a nagging pain with every movement he made. He took off his tunic and undid his bandages. Thin, red lines betrayed the places where the shards of glass had penetrated his flesh. “Good enough,” he whispered.