by Brandon Barr
With everything Savarah said, Meluscia was drawn back to the history books lining the Scriptorium shelves. How she had wanted so badly to become a part of them, but now she felt almost entirely swallowed by despair. How could her people overcome such a colossal enemy? Armies two or three times the size of all the kingdoms of Hearth? Did that include the kingdoms across the sea? Meluscia’s heart cowered, overwhelmed by the daunting specter of Isolaug, his armies, and the thought of him preparing an unconquerable body.
“I shall pray to the gods,” said Meluscia. “I will ask them to grant you favor on your mission.”
“Do your prayers have power?”
Meluscia saddened at the question. Her promise to pray had been meant to encourage Savarah, but her sister had taken it literally.
“No. They do not.”
“Don’t be such a weakling,” snapped Savarah. “You received a message, just as I did. I heard it as I lay there. Jauphenna’s powers were working through my body as her words for you flowed freely. The gods have a destiny for you as well as for me. I am pleased that they seem to know me. They are sending me off to kill. And you. They know how you crave another to love.” Savarah’s lips spread into a half-grin. “Clearly they have their eyes on you—after all, they caught you in bed with the stable master. They hear you, sister. Do as they bid, and perhaps you will regain their favor. Be strong. Pray. Lead. Bring war to the gates of Praelothia and force Isolaug to fight before he attains full power.”
Savarah’s words of hope struck a discordant tune in Meluscia’s ears. How could she possibly lead armies now, with a babe in the womb? She had sealed her fate as to her chance at leading her people. She would never be Luminess of the Hold. And as far as uniting the kingdoms together to fight Isolaug, what chance did she have without the power of her father’s kingdom behind her? Who would listen to a woman with a belly that would soon swell?
Everything she ever hoped for seemed to be coming to an end. Mother to a bastard child. An adulteress. All the kingdom would know of her shame and her fall from power.
She’d even managed to curse the life of the child she would bring into the world. Her daughter would always be marred by Meluscia’s shame.
Unconsciously, her hand reached down again to her stomach.
“Stop it!” roared Savarah, as though she could hear Meluscia’s doubts. “You still have all the power you had when we left the Hold. Don’t act so pitiful. You have at least five months before your belly grows undisguisably fat. You can still be Luminess—even if it’s just a matter of months. Get on your damn horse and go to the Verdlands. Do what you’ve set out to do and save your fretting for afterward.”
Meluscia’s cheeks flushed. “Stop reading my mind!”
Savarah smiled. “Good. Have some anger. Your self-pity needs to be balanced by a dose of ferocity.” She handed Meluscia a piece of blank parchment. “I stole this from Terling’s bags and penned down a list of Isolaug’s spies. They will likely begin hunting you before you reach the Verdlands. If you want to live long enough to mope about all that sweet emotional shit in your heart, I suggest you get a contingent of the mayor’s best fighting men and have them accompany you to King Feaor. The spies in the Verdlands will have been the first Harcor warned. They will be wary of you. They will try and take your life.”
Meluscia glanced at the parchment, breathing out an angry sigh. “I wish you were coming with me. I could use your fiery logic to keep me from drowning in...my sweet emotional refuse.”
“You will be at a disadvantage without me, but I must go to receive my gift from the gods. I have little doubt that if they want you to accomplish something, they will keep you alive to do it. They brought me back from the gates of death to do more killing. I heard it from the lips of the girl prophet who healed me.”
Meluscia frowned. Her own errand given her by the gods was not something she looked forward to. If the Makers were going to protect her until she accomplished it, what about afterward? Meluscia shook the unhelpful question from her mind and turned her thoughts upon what Savarah had said earlier.
Nothing had changed. She could accomplish everything she’d set out to do. None of the rulers had to know she was with child. And as for Isolaug, if the gods were guiding her life, if they cared for the people of Hearth and wanted her to play a part in the story of her world, she must trust them in whatever journey they set before her.
“Thank you, Savarah. Your words have helped me keep my head.”
Meluscia exhaled a last breath of fear, replacing it with a deep breath of acceptance. She reached out and embraced her sister, something she hadn’t attempted to do since the first year Savarah arrived at the Hold. Meluscia stepped back and saw the same cold annoyance on her sister’s face that she had seen so many years ago when Savarah was eleven.
“The intimacy of human touch is one of the gods’ highest gifts to us,” said Meluscia. “Do you ever wish you could enjoy it as others do?”
A trace of humor worked to displace the irritation lining Savarah’s face. “I wish for intimacy about as much as you wish for a barrel of snakes and spiders to be overturned on your head. If you want to show me affection, don’t do it with touch.”
Meluscia smiled, despite being saddened by Savarah’s inability to receive tenderness. But at least now she knew why her sister was so cold. She’d come out of Praelothia, out of a childhood Meluscia could not even begin to fathom. Her mind felt like it was about to burst with the shocking revelations dumped upon her in the last half hour.
“I love you, Sister,” said Meluscia. “I will miss you.”
“Go,” said Savarah. “I know how you feel. Go loose your heart on King Feaor and the Sea Queens. Unite the kingdoms. Maybe we will meet again at Praelothia. That, at least, is something I can wish for.”
Chapter Two
MELUSCIA
“I thought you wanted a small party,” said Belen, Meluscia’s servant. “Adding twenty soldiers isn’t going to look very modest to King Feaor.”
Meluscia stood beside Lord Mayor Brucite in the town’s stables. She eyed the rough-looking men as they saddled horses and secured swords and supplies. Many had large, unruly beards and matted hair that fell in tangles to their shoulders. All looked strong and capable.
“You have made a wise choice,” said the Lord Mayor. “Once you cross our borders, there are many farmers who would be more than pleased to find the Luminess Imminent so ill-equipped and unprotected, traveling through their land. Many of our smaller towns have been raided by bands of these farmers.”
Meluscia wondered at the mayor’s words. Having learned from Savarah that Harcor was responsible for the current conflict, she would like to know how truly dangerous the farmers were, or if Harcor’s hand was still mostly to blame for any recent killings. But it didn’t matter. The contingent of soldiers was there to protect them against Harcor and the others on Savarah’s list of spies. There were six in total.
She knew two of the names on the list: Taumus, one of King Feaor’s advisors, and Quiysh, captain of the Sea Grotto’s largest fishing fleet. And besides Harcor, the other names were simply faceless enemies. Llani and Oevah of the Verdlands, and Noraek from the Southern Sea Kingdom.
Meluscia looked at Belen. “I wish we could arrive as I originally intended, but circumstances have changed.” She turned to Mayor Brucite. “How do these men feel about Harcor?”
The mayor paused, a heavy frown forming on his face. “All of Tilmar is reeling in confusion regarding what’s happened between your mercy sister and Harcor. Until we have answers, I’m not sure how any of us feel. There are a lot of rumors in the air.”
The mayor’s words sharpened Meluscia’s fears. She needed the loyalty of these men, but she sensed it was unwise to reveal what she knew of Harcor’s true identity.
“Mayor, gather your men together. I need to address them.”
Mayor Brucite beckoned his men over and, within moments, twenty rough-looking faces were staring at Meluscia with war
y eyes. She felt a tremor of fear pass through her. Their questioning expressions jarred her. And addressing so many strange men made her quite conscious that she was a young woman of only twenty-two years. She swallowed down the fear fluttering inside and put on a mask of confidence.
“I am honored to have you accompany me into the Verdlands. My father, the Luminar, has sent me on an important mission to deliver a message to King Feaor. But I’m afraid something unexpected has placed a shadow over our party. My mercy sister, Savarah, apparently had some conflict with Harcor, the chief woodcutter of our kingdom. The details of this I do not fully understand.
“I need your confidence in me and my mission. If any of you have doubts about joining my party, I will not be offended if you take leave. As I understand, Harcor was a well-loved member of your community, and as the daughter of the Luminar, I assure you he was well-respected by my father and the entire Hold.”
A throaty growl sounded from one of the men. “Why don’t you ask your mercy sister what happened?” growled a tall, bulky man standing at the back of the group. “She’s been brought back to life by a healer, from what I hear. What has she done to deserve my friend Harcor’s wrath?”
Meluscia noticed many of the other men’s heads nodding at the question. She had been prepared to tell some kind of lie but suddenly found a better way. “It wouldn’t be prudent for me to say what grudge Harcor and Savarah shared.”
“Is it true he’s been banished?” said another man.
“It is not true,” said Meluscia. “He has fled.”
“Harcor is not the cowardly kind. Has he committed some crime? You must tell us, for he was a friend and hero to this entire town.”
The statement bothered Meluscia. So, too, did the defensive air in the room. Clearly, Harcor had endeared himself to this entire community, and that forced her to confront the possibility that the other spies on the list were not all grim and brooding like her sister. The Harcor these men knew had charm. She thought of Aszelbor and Osiiun. These men had not been like Savarah. Especially Aszelbor, the undercook. He’d had a hearty laugh and big red cheeks that stuck out as much as his rounded belly. Meluscia had eaten countless meals prepared by the man, only now to find out he was from the Star Garden Realm. From the hand of Isolaug.
A disturbing thought occurred to her. She was putting an enormous amount of trust in her sister’s story. Could it not be the other way around? Could Savarah not be lying and doing Isolaug’s will while the others…while the others what?
The pieces fit so well together in Savarah’s story. Why else would Harcor flee? And why else would she admit to killing the undercook and one of her father’s ten riders?
And even more. Why would the Makers heal her if she were not of a changed heart?
She returned to the question asked of her. “Again, it is not for me to tell Harcor’s crime. You will simply have to trust me. Now, as I said before, if any of you are conflicted in joining me, you will not be frowned upon for taking your leave. I want only men willing to risk their lives to see Trigon’s mission through. This is the moment for your decision. Those who wish to part ways, do so now.”
Meluscia waited.
To her surprise, not one man left.
“I value your confidence,” said Meluscia. “We ride at the end of the hour. Who knows the road to King Feaor’s castle?”
All twenty men raised their hands.
Meluscia smiled. “Well, we can be sure we won’t get lost.”
WILUIT
“We need to go with that pretty girl,” said Shauwby. “I think I will have more words for her.”
Wiluit peered out from the large window of the third story room Mayor Brucite had given them. The mayor had offered them each a room, but Wiluit refused. They would stay together. They always did. It wasn’t safe otherwise.
“Which girl are you talking about?” asked Wiluit, his brows angled down toward the bridge of his nose. He suppressed a smile as he watched four-year-old Shauwby wiggle in his chair.
“The princess girl. The one that is going to be a mommy.”
“Did you not find the other girl to be pretty? The one you said would meet a monster?”
Shauwby squished his lips tightly together and frowned. “Everything on her face was pretty, but she had mean-looking eyes. Bad man eyes…or…bad girl eyes.”
“Am I still the prettiest girl in all the world?” asked Jauphenna, feigning concern as she looked at Shauwby from over a small pigskin scroll she was reading.
Wiluit almost laughed at the worry flashing across Shauwby’s face.
“Oh yes!” said Shauwby. “You are the most prettiest girl of all. And the princess is second prettiest.”
Jauphenna giggled. “Thank you my Shauwby-Shauwby.”
Wiluit again peered out the window which looked into the main courtyard. There was much commotion, and it appeared the Luminar’s daughter was preparing to depart. Where to, he did not care. His little band of three prophets and two scribes would leave tonight as well, under the cover of dark, sometime after the midnight hour. He didn’t have any particular route—it did not matter until one of them received direction from the gods.
He had initially enjoyed the spontaneity the gods placed upon him. Moving like driftwood through the sea, driven by the currents of the Makers. However, there was a tugging sensation in his soul that had begun to grow of late. A desire to settle down. He had read enough of Takmuk and Seethus’ scrolls to know that not all prophets wandered about forever. Perhaps one day the Makers would grant his prayers for a homestead near the woods where he could hunt, raise animals, find a wife and live a more predictable life. But for now, he was content. The gods had radical missions for his band of prophets, and truthfully, he loved each of the four others and couldn’t stomach separating. They were family. His blood father and brothers, they had disowned him long ago.
Wiluit turned from the window and spied Takmuk, the strange old scribe, hunched over one of the two desks that Mayor Brucite had promptly brought in at his request. In the bed against the wall was Seethus, the older scribe, sleeping again. It was his third nap that day.
Takmuk’s pen paused, then scrawled onward across the page. Both Takmuk and Seethus had been recording the words that he, Jauphenna, and Shauwby had spoken in obedience to the Cherah spirits the gods had bonded to them. They had also recorded some of the major events and miracles their band had encountered in the year and a half they had been together. Both Takmuk and Seethus also penned down revelation and wisdom divined to them by the gods. They were the ones who’d started this entire adventure, coming to him one autumn night less than two years ago.
Wiluit watched the little Cherah crawling over Takmuk’s fingers as he wrote. Its body was much like a mouse, yet its twenty nervous legs were a blur of motion as it meandered over and up the back of his hand. Each member of their god-gifted group had a Cherah, but Wiluit was the only one who could see them, for that was the gifting the gods had given him. Spirit Sight.
“Are we going to go with the princess?” asked Shauwby again. “I feel a little tickle on my heart to go with her.”
“Is it a warm tickle?” asked Wiluit playfully.
“Certainly! Yes! A warm tickle. And it’s also really flappy, like hummingbird wings.”
Wiluit laughed. “Are you sure that’s the gods tugging on your heart, and not the princess’ pretty face?”
Shauwby frowned in thought.
“I feel it too,” said Jauphenna in a brooding tone.
Wiluit found Jauphenna’s eyes still staring down at the book in her hands. “You feel the pull to go with the Luminar’s daughter?” he asked her.
“Yes,” said Jauphenna. “Nothing specific. I just feel that we are to go with her, even though it makes me cross.” She looked up from her book and found Wiluit’s eyes. “I was very much looking forward to escaping the roads and traveling into the forests of the Blue Mountains. You understand. Just the five of us. Having more adventures, swimming i
n lakes, climbing mountains. And not having to tell people about their darkest secrets.”
Jauphenna lowered the book in her hand, her brown eyes hiding none of her frustration. She was sixteen years of age, and Wiluit sometimes felt caught between being her friend and being an older brother to her, just as he was to Shauwby. Complicating the matter further was Jauphenna’s growing feelings toward him. Although she was sixteen, she often behaved like she was twelve. Yet in her head, she seemed to think herself of Wiluit’s age and maturity.
The two old scribes provided little help when it came to guidance and care for Jauphenna. Takmuk, the younger of the two, was too serious and surly to provide any grandfatherly wisdom to anyone.
And Seethus, if not so old and senile, might have played a bigger role in the group. At the very least, Seethus had formed a bond with Shauwby, who often sat on his lap around the campfire. The old man would smile his papery old lips and hum an ancient song as he tapped a rhythm on Shauwby’s arm. But Seethus provided nothing for a young woman coming out of girlhood, grappling with her new role as a Tongue of the gods while also struggling to discover how to grow into a woman. And all within the midst of four males.
Wiluit looked out the window at Meluscia, who was addressing a crowd of men in the courtyard. If Jauphenna felt the gods calling for their band to go with the Luminar’s daughter, that would be an unusual summons.