Light.
Her true essence…birthed with…the dawn…
The sun. The dawn. Light. Sunlight…
As I stood there observing the dawn-painted sky, trying to determine what to do, the voices began whispering inside my head. Like a carousel they started slowly then picked up speed. Faster and faster the words went spinning around my brain, tripping over each other, mingling together, then dancing apart. And they were beginning to form an idea, something I hoped I could use.
Lifting my face to the sun, I felt the warmth of a new morning touch my skin. A smile curved my mouth.
The sun…
It was on full display this morning. Broad shafts of light pierced the filmy white clouds overhead, striking the earth in a dazzling circle of sunbeams. Once more, the sun had risen to chase away the dark of night, bringing daybreak with it. Chasing away the darkness with light, exactly as the Artan was prophesied to do.
Allowing my lashes to drift closed, I breathed deeply. Weariness melted away as I drank in the fresh morning air, tasting the scents of light, water, dust, and flowers on my tongue—the flowers that bloomed in gardens and gaily painted window boxes all over the city, the flowers that grew in fields beyond the city walls, the flowers blooming on trees both inside the city and out.
With the heightening awareness of all these things came an almost imperceptible releasing of myself to the sun and the elements and the beauty all around me. Uncurling my fingers and extending my arms, I embraced these emblems. Letting my head fall back, I permitted the light and life and energy to fill and overtake me. I Became them, and they me.
Sun-borne Promise
As her feet left stone and she began rising off the surface of the Singing Bridge, Ilgard, High-Chief of the Simathe, watched with awe but little astonishment. The sensations filtering to him through their bond of light, buoyancy, and warmth were merely a fulfillment of what she’d started to feel the instant she closed her eyes.
She had a point to prove, and this was it. This Artan did not simply walk in the light; she was the light, and she personified that as she Became the sunlight into which she drifted. Above the city walls, above the white bridge, high above his head, she stood in midair. She was the essence of tranquility. Her eyes were closed, and her arms extended as she welcomed the brilliance surrounding her. Her head had fallen back, and her dark hair rippled past her shoulders. With her feet pressed neatly together and her nightshift skimming her knees, she hung suspended between earth and sky.
Before his eyes, the bloodstains, grime, rents, and tears marring her clothing melted away, vanishing into the void. Her skin darkened to gold until every outline of her face was etched like a statue. People beneath her, both on the Singing Bridge and down in the city streets, stood amazed.
Ilgard did not look at Prince Kurban to catch his reaction to the miracle he had demanded. This was something no one, not the Tearkin prince nor the Simathe High-Chief, could have predicted or would ever forget. They knew—everyone who witnessed it knew—this was no meager exhibition of this woman’s power as the Artan, but a solemn declaration, a sun-borne promise that she walked in light. That she embodied light. That she alone was fit to fulfill the prophecy of someday passing through the vales of shadow and despair to walk forevermore in the light.
Even as the Simathe tipped back his own head to memorize a sight he knew would linger eternally, a feeling of weightlessness flooded his limbs. Joined to her, he could float with her into the sun, if only he would allow himself to be carried by her…
Shaking off the not unpleasant sensation, he planted his boots firmly on the stone arch of the great bridge, going so far as to grip the railing with both hands. Watching her, he now willed her to come down, to return to his side. She ignored him for a time, lost so deeply in the throes of her magic that perhaps she did not feel his silent appeal. Several long minutes slipped by while she hovered high above, radiating golden sunlight, rotating in a nearly indiscernible spin. Uneasy, the Simathe interjected more urgency through their bond. Would it wake her? Did she even feel it?
At last, she did. Her achingly slow spin halted then ceased altogether. Her head rose, her eyes opening, seeking his. Her mismatched eyes glowed as she awakened from her self-created spell as if from a long and satisfying sleep. She began to descend, drifting down toward him. Ilgard was only vaguely aware of his companions edging aside, of himself releasing the railing and stepping back toward the center of the bridge.
Finally, she hovered before and slightly above him. The golden lines melted from her face as her countenance returned to normal. Her arms lowered, and in her eyes he read an open invitation. He accepted it without thought, raising his own arms, molding his hands to her waist. As he did, she released the final tendrils of power, her weight falling on him to support. He did so, holding her high above him for a long moment before lowering her slowly to the ground.
A shout of victory went up from one individual in the crowd, was caught by another, repeated by another, and echoed by one more. The cries swept the assembly, fusing into a roar of happiness that shook the firmament as thousands of Aerisians joyfully seized her promise. All over the city, any still lingering in places of refuge now darted out, joining the crowd, adding their voices to the clamor. The throng swelled and, with it, his lady’s joy.
Favoring him with a brief smile, the young Artan turned away. Dropping her left hand from his shoulder, she lowered it in a scooping motion and brought it up sharply to fling something into the air. A shower of golden dust and tiny gems burst, raining down upon the city square. Some threw up eager hands or held out hats to catch it. Others, tilting their faces and closing their eyes, allowed it to wash over them as though it were real rain. Children and young maidens lifted their arms as well, spinning and dancing in this enchanted downfall of gold.
She laughed with them, his lady, her relief and joy so full it overflowed, touching him, as well. In that moment, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had triumphed. She had won Laytrii to herself, and he rejoiced with her. However, in so doing, she had also shown the Dark Powers who she was and that she would not be defeated by any subtle or simple means. Glad as he was to know the Artan had come in his time, that he was privileged to share her day, he also felt an unfamiliar pang of fear.
From here, the path she walked would doubtlessly grow harder and darker. What the future might hold for them both, he could not say, but before the victory must come the battle. Before the triumph must come the struggle. There was no shielding her from it; it was her destiny. This shining moment was indeed beautiful, but how long dared he hope it would last?
Part Three
Discoveries, Dreams
The Healing
The din of galloping hooves caught my ear.
“My lady!” someone cried. “Lady Hannah!”
From my vantage point on the lowest step of the palace’s main entrance, I spun toward the cry.
“Elisia? Elisia, what is it?”
Jumping off her mount before it had come to a complete standstill, my friend ran toward me with hair askew and tears streaming down her cheeks. She was crying hard; she looked scared to death. Running headlong into my arms, she flung herself against me, clutching at my shoulders and sobbing as if her heart would break. But only for a moment. Fighting visibly to regain control, she made herself let go and step back, scrubbing hard at her weepy eyes.
In between short, breathless sobs, she choked out, “My lady, you must come. Garett has been injured!”
“The Ranter High-Chief? Wounded? But how?”
This from Prince Kurban who, together with Ilgard, stood on the steps just above me.
I wondered the same thing myself. Upon descending the Singing Bridge, Garett had taken off with Cole and Kurban’s two dozen Tearkin, all of them volunteering to assist the citizens of Laytrii in putting the city and palace back to rights. Prince Kurban, Ilgard, and I had returned to the palace. Despite my daze of happiness, my weary body was ready to collaps
e. I’d been planning on a bath and bed; however, I feared those plans were about to be disrupted.
The beautiful Spinner broke into a fresh torrent of tears at the Tearkin’s simple question. She could barely speak for her crying.
“There w-was a-another—there were more of them,” she wept. “Th-they, they were h-hidden, and—and…”
“And they attacked the High-Chief,” Ilgard summarized, taking pity on her.
“Yes!” The word came out as a wail. Frightened myself, aching for her, I put my arms around my weeping friend and drew her close as she sobbed, “I fear he will die. Please, my lady, you must come!”
“But what can I do?” I asked helplessly.
“What can you do?” Pushing herself upright, Elisia swept the tangled hair out of her face and dashed away her tears with a fist. “You are the Artan—you can heal him!”
“Elisia, I’m no healer. I mean, I’ve never even tried it before. Shouldn’t you have a physician—”
“The physician has already attended him. He says there is no hope and that my Garett must die. Please, Lady Hannah, if anyone can help him now, if anyone can save him… You must come. With my whole heart, I am begging you!”
I was hardly unmoved by her pleas, but the simple truth was that I was scared. I’d never attempted a healing before. Furthermore, this was not some stranger, but Lord Garett, the Ranetron High-Chief and the man with whom one of my best friends in Aerisia happened to be in love.
What if I can’t help him? What if I do something wrong? What if I fail?
I didn’t know I’d spoken these last thoughts aloud, and I jumped when a huge, heavy hand, though remarkably gentle, clamped down on my shoulder. It was the Tearkin prince. His face was empathetic, Elisia’s piteously hopeful.
“My lady, you are the Artan. I have, this day, seen things I never hoped to see—things assuring my soul of that truth.
“As the Artan, all powers of goodness and light are met in you. Is not the power of health one of the greatest of these? Just because you have not attempted it yet gives you no cause to fear it. If you are skilled to heal, as I believe you are, then you must go with the Spinner and try. To try is all that she asks.”
Elisia nodded fervently. “Aye, my lady. For you to try is all that I ask. If you try and succeed, my love will live. If you try and fail or if you do not try—” Fresh tears welled, yet she persevered bravely. “My beloved will die, I know this. But please, you must come.”
I looked helplessly at Ilgard, studying his face for some clue, some sign as to what I should do. It revealed nothing. I wanted to be angry with him for not helping me out at this critical juncture, but couldn’t. I knew he was holding back for a reason. I’d just shown the whole Aerisian world, basically, that I was the Artan, and now he wanted me to stand on my own two feet and make my own decisions. Although a part of me respected him for that, the frailer, panicky side moaned that independence was too heavy a burden to bear.
On the other hand, the love and hope emanating from my friend could not be denied, and I thought, How would I feel if I were her and our situations were reversed? Wouldn’t I want her to at least try?
I knew that I would.
“All right, Elisia,” I acquiesced. “I’ll come. I’m not sure what I can do, but I promise I’ll do my best. Just please, don’t hate me if—”
“Have no fear on that score, my lady. No matter what occurs, you are my dear friend, and I will cherish you the more for your efforts on Garett’s behalf.” She summoned up a reassuring smile then said, “Now I will send for horses.”
With that, she was gone, hastening off across the courtyard, demanding fresh horses be brought. I started to follow but felt a hand grasp my arm. Surprised, I half-turned, and Ilgard bent close, saying quietly, “Well done, Hannah.”
I glanced up in surprise. Had I heard him correctly? Not only had he complimented me, but had he actually called me by my given name? That was certainly a new one, which made me wonder, again, to what extent that kiss may have altered our relationship.
“My lady!”
Elisia’s desperate cry caught my attention, and I was forced to leave both Ilgard and thoughts of his unexpected praise behind as I jogged across the courtyard, heading toward the Spinner and the horses being saddled. Yet as I loped off, I heard Prince Kurban’s voice as he and Ilgard descended the steps, following me close behind.
“Such love she has for him,” the giant observed. “We should all be so loved.”
Ilgard made no reply. Of course, he wouldn’t. But as I swung up on my horse, I twisted to watch him mount his own animal, catching the glint of sunlight on his bronzed face and impossibly black hair.
You’re right, Kurban, I couldn’t help agreeing. We should all be so loved.
People rapidly gave way as our cavalcade clattered through the cobblestoned city streets. Elisia led the way, leading us down a maze of city streets until we drew up before a comfortably large inn. It was three stories, and a swinging sign out front named it The Speckled Cock. Here we dismounted, throwing our reins to the stable boys who came on the run to assist us.
We rushed from the brightness of the outdoors into the cool dimness of the inn’s spacious common room, a combined dining and sitting area. People stood around in small groups or sat chatting at the tables, but when we entered, a hush fell and the folk fell to openly staring. Elisia, ignoring them all, brushed past the hefty innkeeper stationed at the bottom of the staircase without a word. Picking up her skirts, she took the stairs two at a time, vanishing almost instantly from view.
At any other time, I would’ve been tempted to laugh at the sight of this elegant woman doing something so out of character. Need, though, necessitates many things, and rather than laugh, I dashed after her, giving the innkeeper a quick smile as I darted past. This was met with a broad grin and a deep bow, which I scarcely had time to notice as I flew by. I reached the main hallway of the second floor in time to catch a glimpse of Elisia’s skirts as she disappeared into a guest room. Slower now, I followed her toward the same chamber, pausing in the doorway.
She was kneeling alongside a low-slung bed, grasping a man’s pale hand between both her own. The heartbreaking mixture of love, sorrow, and hope on her face was enough to make me cry as she whispered softly, “She is here, my love. The Artan is here. She will save you; I know she will.”
No reply from the person on the bed.
I took a reluctant step forward, and a board creaked beneath my weight. The Spinner glanced up at the sound, panic in her green eyes.
“Please, my lady, you must hurry,” she begged.
With that bit of urging, I moved closer, sinking down beside my friend in order to assess the man before me.
“We did all we could, my lady, that we did.”
This came from one of the women standing on the opposite side of the bed. Looking away from Garett, I offered the twosome a reassuring smile, assuming they were probably workers here at the inn. They were dressed alike in dark skirts and red blouses under black, laced-up vests. The white kerchiefs covering their hair matched the roomy aprons protecting their clothing. Telltale bloodstains marked these aprons as well as their square, capable hands. One held a porcelain basin filled with dark water, bloodstained cloths draped over its side.
“I’m sure you did,” I soothed, and they looked relieved.
The thinner one who held the basin went so far as to say, “We hope the best for the High-Chief. That we do, my lady.”
“Aye,” the other chimed in. “If anyone can heal him, my lady, we know it’s you.”
Hoping they were right, I offered a weak smile of thanks. Taking it as their signal to leave, they curtsied and headed for the door. Before exiting, the one who had spoken first paused to inquire, “Might we be of further assistance? If there’s anything we can do to help…”
Was there? I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so, but please have someone stand by, just in case.”
“Very well, my lady.�
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They left, closing the door softly.
Giving my full attention to the man on the bed, I carefully peeled back the sheet covering him and removed his blood-soaked bandages with the utmost care. A soft cry escaped. I knew I should have been strong for Elisia, whose face had gone stark white at the sight, but I couldn’t help my shock. The poor thing buried her face in the warrior’s blond hair in a desperate attempt not to look at the ghastly wound. I wanted to look away too but instead forced myself to study what I was contending with.
“Good heavens,” I heard myself whisper, amazed the man was still alive.
He lay on his left side because his right was ripped open from hip to armpit, his innards exposed for me to see. I bit my lower lip hard to keep from gagging at the sight of so much blood, of being able to see entrails through the torn flesh.
Oh help, I pleaded, fearing I would faint.
I’d only ever received the most basic CPR training and had no idea how to deal with something like this. Gingerly, I reached for his wrist, then neck, searching for a pulse. It was so faint and erratic I almost couldn’t find it. His breathing was so shallow his chest barely moved at all. Lowering my hand, I gazed fearfully at the gaping hole in his side. This man was clearly near death and could die at any second. It was a miracle he’d held on this long.
Feeling somebody’s fingers brush my shoulders, I glanced up to see Ilgard standing next to me. He knelt, putting his hand under my chin and lifting it so he could peer deeply into my eyes.
“You can do this, lass.”
Tears welled at the gentle encouragement. One rolled down my cheek, dripping off my chin. “I don’t think I can. He’s going to die. What can I do? What if I kill him myself?”
“You will not,” he said simply. Using his thumb, he wiped away my tears then got to his feet. Looking down, he said, “I will wait with the Tearkin in the common room below. What you do now, you must do on your own.”
The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set Page 39