by Brandon Barr
“Herein lies Rathan, Eanth and Monaiella.”
The latter name brought a tremor through Meluscia and she fell to a knee.
“Rathan was Monaiella’s only loyal rider,” said the Maker. “When she was forced to relinquish her title as Luminess and flee into exile, Rathan swore to protect her. Eanth was their son.”
Meluscia marveled at the declaration. She knew nothing of Monaiella’s history after her exile.
“We gave Eanth the gift of Healing and of Strengthening, for he had his mother’s heart to serve others.” The Maker held her hand out over the nearest grave. “Here lies Eanth, the Cherah that gave him gifts lie dormant beside his old bones. I now pass them on to you, Meluscia.”
The Maker reached out and took her hands. Immediately Meluscia’s fingertips burned wondrously, as if held out to a blazing hearth. Ripples of hot warmth spilled up her wrists like flickers of flames.
“This gift I give you is unique. It can only be used twice. One time to heal, one time to strengthen. As with all such gifts, we, the Makers, decide who will receive them.”
“Thank you,” whispered Meluscia.
“One more gift for you,” said the Maker. Her hand hovered over the center burial mound. A tremor seemed to shake it, causing small pebbles to shiver and bounce over the earth. And then the dirt split as a sword rose from the grave, sheathed in rotting leather. “The sword of Monaiella. It bears her name in the old language of the second age. It is a sword like any other, but I shall change that.”
The dark crimson dress the Maker wore suddenly billowed as if struck by a gust of wind. The arms stretching from the sleeves smoldered, and then the Maker’s hands burst into flames, fingers white with heat. She ran her hands up and down the length of the sword twice-over. Then the glow died, and the fire vanished. The fair skin of her hands returned.
Meluscia stared in awe. The Maker handed the hilt of the sword to her and she took it carefully. The blade still glowed faintly red with heat as it cooled.
“This sword is blessed now. If the blade remains sheathed, no weapon of any kind will be able to harm you, Meluscia. But if you choose to use the sword, you will be granted the power of an Aeraphim to kill one opponent. No matter the skill or size, that enemy cannot defeat you. However, if you unsheathe and use the sword, ever after you will be susceptible to death by sword, or any weapon.”
The Maker took the rotting sheath in her hand and placed it over the sword. As she did, the leather sheath became as new.
“Now, go back to your journeys. I’m afraid, when you return to your party, you will find all is not well.”
Like mist fading into the sunlight, the Maker disappeared.
Meluscia rushed headlong through the undergrowth, pulled by Wiluit. A sense of urgency was in his pace. He rushed through branches that scraped at their clothes and didn’t take the time to search out the easiest route. The second dousing of mud from the wolves’ tunnel was beginning to dry and flake away as the foliage battered her arms.
She was still awestruck by what had taken place behind her.
They broke through the last of the heavy brush. Through the trees ahead, she saw the horses still waiting upon the road. She clutched the hilt of her sword in her right hand and remembered the Maker’s warning.
The Hold called to her like never before.
She and Wiluit ran up a gradual slope to the road.
“Where is she?” asked Wiluit.
“She ran off, looking for you,” said Takmuk. “Wouldn’t listen to me, of course!”
Meluscia realized it was Jauphenna they spoke of, for she was nowhere in sight.
“I have to search for her,” said Wiluit. He pulled his sheathed sword from his mount and began strapping it to his belt. “Leave me and my horse. Go on without me and I shall catch up once I find her.”
“No,” said Meluscia. “I’ll take my own company. You keep yours.”
Wiluit unstrapped his bow and removed three arrows from his pack. “It’s too dangerous,” he said. “Shauwby can protect you.”
Meluscia gave Wiluit a questioning look. “Is Jauphenna in danger or just lost?”
Wiluit looked to the woods. “Something evil stalks her.” Wiluit’s green eyes flashed as they met Meluscia’s. “Go on. I believe our black-cloaked pursuer is the one after Jauphenna. If you ride hard, you should be safe.”
He turned to Takmuk. “Did you see her path?”
Takmuk raised his hand and lifted a bony finger. “There, right of where you entered the wood. She kept eyeing the two of you, looked like she was trying to follow at a distance.”
Without another word, Wiluit ran into the woods.
“What’s that odd stick in his hands?” asked Takmuk.
Meluscia took to her horse. “A tool a Maker gave him.”
“Were you given a gift?” pressed Takmuk.
“Yes, two gifts. I’ll tell you of them later, if you promise to bring your band to the Hold.”
“We make no promises,” growled Takmuk.
Shauwby waved to Meluscia, a distressed smile on his lips. Meluscia shouted a command to her party and kicked her heels. Shauwby’s troubled look turned her thoughts to Wiluit. She hoped all would be well. Despite Jauphenna’s ill temper, the young woman had saved her sister and delivered the words that had led to the freeing of her own soul.
She gripped the hilt of the sword in its leather sheath and recalled the fire she’d felt heating her fingertips.
She would not sleep until she stood in her father’s bedroom and delivered to him the signed treaty of King Feaor.
LOAM
Doctor Saeyeed, I’m sending you the bio for Karience, an Empyrean born on the world Night 2. She is the Empyrean we discussed in length a week ago. I’m afraid she’s grown more unstable since our last talk. Her charter world, Loam, is in upheaval due to circumstances out of her control. However, her response to the situation has me concerned. She came to my office today and practically begged me to make amendments to the charter that any basic Empyrean trainee would recognize as accommodating.
Given the situation, I understand her fear of losing Loam, but I also sense a deeper anxiety behind her requests. She knows she only has one shot at this and if the charter fails, the twenty-eight years she has spent there will be wasted.
I’m hoping you can allay my concerns. She is a risk-taker and a fighter. Good traits in a leader when controlled, but dangerous in the hands of a desperate woman when her life’s work is on the verge of collapse.
-Higelion, Magnus Empyrean of Sector 54, transmission to Doctor Saeyeed, Guardian psycho-analyst, Bridge.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
KARIENCE
Karience stormed through the portal of Core Nine as she followed her Emissary, Winter, back to the cool seaside of Loam. A brine-scented wind sporadically whipped the sea cliff as Karience and Winter hurried up the dirt trail leading to the small exploration craft.
“Higelion’s been to Loam twice in the twenty-eight years I’ve been here,” said Karience, nearly shouting as she kept a brisk pace toward the craft. “And he thinks he knows better than I what Loam needs! Better than anyone here.”
“People in power rarely listen to those below them,” said Winter. “That’s my experience. You’re the exception to that rule.”
Karience turned and grinned. “I’m a rule breaker, that’s why.”
The small exploration craft came into view as they crested the hilltop. The door opened as they neared.
“Loam needs you here,” said Winter. “Not just the Guardians, but you.” She paused, then continued, “I love my world, but I don’t belong here anymore.”
Karience stopped just short of the door to the exploration craft. “Why do you say that?”
“Do you remember what I told you about my calling?”
Karience remembered well. Before the Guardian Tower had fallen, Whisper had told her of her desire to become a Missionary. But her goals went far beyond the duties of Missionary, fo
r she had said something strange…something about her being destined by the Makers to kill a Beast. The idea would have remained entirely bizarre had she not seen Winter’s gift for herself.
The girl could see the future.
Who knew what the Makers had in mind for her?
“I remember what you said about the Makers and their plans for your life,” said Karience, giving Winter a long stare. She sensed Winter had something else she wanted to tell her. And then she guessed what it was. “You mean to go through the portal, don’t you?”
“With your permission, yes.”
Karience looked out toward the sea, searching her thoughts. Finally, she looked back to Winter, anxious and concerned for her safety. “After seeing the power of your gift with my own eyes, I don’t dare stand in your way. I will not resist the Makers’ Oracles, as many of the Guardians do. As to my permission…you don’t need it. But if you disappear, remember, I never said anything of the sort.”
The smile that came over Winter’s lips was fragile but warm. “I hope the charter prevails. Then if I ever return home, I’ll still have a friend on Loam.”
Karience sighed. “If the charter fails, I’d only be a hindrance staying here. They’ll always look at me and see a Guardian. Your rulers have to desire my presence, and that means embracing the charter.”
“What will you do if it fails?”
“I refuse to think about it. I still have faith something can be done. I’m seeing Prince Damien tonight. He might yet work with Higelion’s terms.”
Karience entered the craft and sat in the pilot chair, then glanced at the time counter above the controls. Her dinner with the prince was closer than she had realized.
“Strap in quick,” said Karience. “I need to have an impromptu meeting with you and the rest of the Missionaries—there are big changes coming our way—and as soon as the meeting is over, I’m off to Damien’s. I can’t be late for my date tonight.” She smiled and winked at Winter.
After docking the ship at the underwater facility, she and Winter hurried to the common room. Arentiss was there, eating a bowl of something hot and steaming. Across from her sat Hark.
“Where’s Rueik?”
“He’s been gone since this morning,” said Arentiss.
“I’m right here,” said Rueik, entering the common room. “Went for a run to Vale Lake. Arentiss, you up for a run some morning?”
“Certainly,” said Arentiss. “As long as you don’t mind a little dust in your face.”
He brushed sweat from his brow. “We’ll see about that.”
Karience gestured to the tables. “Have a seat, Rueik. I have news from Higelion. You too, Winter.”
She waited for Winter and Rueik to find a chair, then proceeded. “I have a major announcement. The Magnus Empyrean has decided to remove Shield Force from Loam.” She watched as the significance fell upon each face. She continued, “Higelion believes the quorums need to see the consequences of leaving the charter. He thinks it will help them realize the significance of their choice.”
“We just had a major catastrophe,” said Hark. “Shouldn’t we be lenient with them?”
“Personally, I think you’re right,” said Karience. “I argued a similar case before Higelion. But higher command dictates otherwise. Shield Force has already been notified. They’ll be gone by day’s end.”
“Are we being sent back?” asked Rueik.
“If the charter is overturned, then yes,” said Karience.
“Did Higelion give thought to your proposal to extend the timeframe?” asked Arentiss.
“No. But I believe there’s a chance the charter can be saved. Higelion has given me a little leeway, but not much. My dinner with Damien tonight will be crucial.”
“What leeway?” asked Hark.
“One year for the quorums to enact a mandate, meeting the terms of the charter by the end of the prescribed term. Those are Higelion’s exact words.”
“I hope your meeting with Damien goes smoothly,” said Rueik. “If anyone can fix this mess, it’s him.”
“Convincing him may not be easy,” said Karience. “I’ll let you know of my success or failure tomorrow.” She noticed Winter staring down at the table. Winter had been quiet since coming back to the facility. Karience sensed the pressing thoughts spiraling in the young woman’s head. Jumping through the portal was a big step.
She would miss the girl dearly.
Hopefully, the charter would be saved, and sometime in the future Winter would return to Loam with a story as large as the galaxy.
It was a pleasant thought amidst so much uncertainty.
ARENTISS
She found herself alone in the common room once Rueik and Hark left. Before Karience had come with the news of Shield Force, she and Hark had been talking about the subjects of family and love. She thought of Hark’s wife and child and how protective he was of them. And how loyal. Hark had decided to send his wife and child back to his homeworld because of the tense circumstances on Loam. They’d left yesterday, and she could see the melancholy in his demeanor.
Once Arentiss made a decision, she knew there were few as dedicated as her. Her test scores were evidence of this.
Arentiss recalled the initial excitement she’d experienced reading through Aven’s psychological profile. They were such a good match. She remembered the stimulation of Aven’s hand in hers. He would make an excellent life partner, and she would be a sound, serious wife—she was convinced of it. And children…she hadn’t asked if Aven wanted any, but if he bore the cultural markers of Loam, then offspring would be highly prized. She tried but failed to imagine what it would be like for her to have children with Aven.
She would have to work on mothering skills, just as she would have to learn to cook.
Last night, she’d spent many of her normal sleeping hours awake, scrutinizing possible scenarios to track down Aven. The chances of Aven returning on his own were low. Better to be proactive. In the end, only one course of action was plausible. It would take the majority of her earnings as a Missionary, but she could hire the pilot of a good spacecraft to take her to some of the inhabitable worlds surrounding Loam. The mercenaries who’d captured him might be well known. If so, it would be easy to gather information on them. Additionally, she remembered their dress and the markings on the craft. Someone would recognize those markings.
But before she could discuss her plans with Karience, she needed to secure Winter’s approval. Yes, Aven had held her hand, but without Winter’s approval, any attempt at securing Aven’s full affection would be a broach of Loamian protocol and disrespectful to Winter and Aven. Winter’s consent was the firewall to her hopes and plans.
Arentiss could envision the possible future she and Aven could share: he, a farmer, and herself serving the Guardians in some fashion from their hovel. She wondered what kissing Aven would be like. It would be her first time. However, from her limited observations of the act of kissing, it somehow surpassed the bodily sensations of holding hands. Beyond kissing, she could scarcely contemplate physical intimacy. She understood the biology and anatomy of what was properly termed coitus, but the exact mechanics of the procedure remained a mystery.
One step at time, she told herself.
She stood and walked briskly to Winter’s room. She knocked lightly, then pressed the button to open the door.
Winter turned from a porthole she’d been peering through. Arentiss stepped inside the door. “Would now be a good time to talk more of Aven and I?”
The twist on Winter’s lips and the scrunch of her brows told Arentiss that she’d just broached some minor social convention of Loam—or more specifically, the Loamian farm culture. Whatever it was, she couldn’t detect the details of her blunder.
“Hi, Arentiss,” said Winter. “Yes, come in.”
Arentiss came up beside Winter and looked out the porthole. She recognized that social convention demanded she now say something more on the topic of Aven. Something that would cheer
Winter.
“You might be pleased to know I’ve already begun reading up on cooking. I purchased a local book on recipes that focus on rural culinary fare.”
Winter frowned, and Arentiss could tell her VOKK was processing something. Winter suddenly laughed. “Very nice,” said Winter, “but you don’t need to impress me anymore. I’ve made my decision.”
Arentiss teetered in suspense for a moment. “And what have you decided?”
“I approve of you and Aven’s match, as long as he agrees.”
Arentiss felt a tremble run through her body like a shock wave. “I am honored to receive your approval, Winter.”
Winter hugged her. “Now we just have to find Aven to see if he agrees.”
“Yes,” said Arentiss. “You’ll be pleased to know I have a plan for that.”
Winter stepped back. “You have a plan?”
“With your approval now secured, I’m going to leave my duties here. I’m going to search for your brother.”
“How is that possible?”
“I will hand Karience my temporary leave notice, then hire a ship on my homeworld of Birth. I will fly through the fleet portal just outside our system. Then find your brother.”
Winter felt a wild hope grow inside her. “Is what you say truly possible?”
“It is. I love your brother. I will find him, and I will bring him back to Loam.”
HEARTH
I’ve lived the lifetimes of two men. I’ve loved a good wife and lost her. I’ve married again only to lose her at the age of seventy years. I’ve watched my sons and daughters grow old and die, and now their children too have passed away. And yet I live on. My bones ache. My skin sags. And for all the life I’ve lived, I am the happiest old, decrepit man that ever lived past one hundred and twenty.
It is a human duty to be happy, and it’s far and wide more enjoyable than grumping around like old people are prone to do, complaining like unfed goats, and surly as wild hogs.