by Brandon Barr
By day’s end, they would arrive at the Hold of the Blue Mountains, and he was anxious to hear news of Meluscia.
He hoped she and her party had fared well the night before and reached the Hold without trouble.
Wiluit smiled to himself. He looked forward to speaking with her…to watch her reaction when he told her he wanted to help in her fight against Isolaug.
He expected a smile.
Chapter Forty-Three
MELUSCIA
The aviary rested atop the western ridge of the Hold. It was a half hour’s ride on horse through paths that wound over gently sloping mountain plateaus, high above the forests below. Great walls of steep rock guarded the path from the upper royal gate to the Aviary itself. The only large animals able to find foothold up to the top of the plateau were wily horses and mountain sheep.
Meluscia observed Praseme’s wonderment at the view. The serving girl had never been this way, and the spectacular expanse was unforgettable.
“So you had something important to tell me?” asked Meluscia, stroking the white mane on her horse, one of two mounts kept for traveling the grassy stretch to the Aviary.
“Have you thought of names for the child?” asked Praseme, her eyes flitting down for a moment to Meluscia’s stomach.
Meluscia sighed. “I’ve had names for my children for a long time, despite never planning to have any.” Meluscia petted her horse and looked earnestly at Praseme. “But this child is not mine, and rightly so. Have you thought of a name?”
“The child I bear will be called either Anastase if a girl, or if a boy, Kielder. But tell me, what are the names you’ve thought of?”
Meluscia remembered her days as a girl of eleven and twelve thinking upon such things as children and husbands, years before the sunweed blight struck her mother and father and forced her thoughts to deeper questions. “For a boy, I am fond of the name Tulboran. For a girl, Galenna.”
“Then Galenna is the baby’s name,” said Praseme, “for it’s known you’re having a girl, and I have decided the child belongs to you.”
Meluscia nearly fell from the saddle. She turned and stared bewildered at Praseme. “You mean for me to keep the child?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Praseme firmly. “If you will love and cherish her. If you do not want her though, I’m sure I can convince Mica to take a baby. But I would have to lie to him about the child all our lives, calling him or her our mercy child, when truly, she would be of Mica’s own blood.” Praseme held Meluscia’s gaze. “And more,” said Praseme softly, “I think you desire the child.”
Meluscia looked up into the sky, which was beginning to glow faintly red with the nearness of evening. It was true. Simply knowing a life grew inside her—was a part of her… She wanted to love this child.
Meluscia finally said, “I haven’t felt so much as a kick yet, but already I love the baby.”
“Then the child is yours,” said Praseme, reaching out her hand.
Meluscia took it in hers and squeezed with all the emotion she felt inside. “Thank you for this gift.”
Praseme released her hand and rode for a time in silence. “I am scared,” she finally said, one hand on the reins, the other on the swell of her stomach. “I fear this war you’re summoning. I feel as if I am bringing my child into an uncertain future. What will happen if we lose the war? What if…” Her voice choked with emotion. “…What if Mica doesn’t return? What would it be like to raise a child alone, fleeing for my life? You have five, six, maybe seven months before your swelling stomach is plain to all. I sense you mean to go to war before your time as Luminess comes to an end. That is a short time.”
Although Meluscia felt for Praseme, and for the many citizens who would come to share Praseme’s fears, she was resolute in her plans for war. Savarah’s warning held much of the weight in her decision, but there was also the fact that Isolaug’s spies had been unclothed, and she doubted the Beast would sit idle, now that the kingdoms of men knew of his spies and his plans.
He might even suspect the coming war.
“Pray we win,” said Meluscia. “At the very least, the gods seem to be with us. And pray for the child that grows in me. That his mother be protected. I shall be in harm’s way. The sword given me by the Makers is proof of that.”
“I will pray,” said Praseme.
Meluscia watched the last of the thirteen falcons fly from the falconer’s wrist. She found Dolostone’s duty of Aviary Master an enchanting responsibility, second only to the duty of Scriptorian held by Katlel.
The last bird, like its brethren, was majestic in flight. It carried a note housed in a small leather pouch fitted snugly to the falcon’s leg, just above the talons. Within a day, each bird would arrive at the aviary it had been trained to travel to. Each of the thirteen tallest peaks had its own birder and aviary, and upon arrival, the regent there would receive a simple message:
At Trigon’s pronouncement, Meluscia has been coronated Luminess. Trigon has passed. King Feaor of the Verdlands has made peace. All regents are called to travel to the Hold immediately for an urgent meeting.
Meluscia thanked Dolostone and gave a fleeting glance at three young falcons hanging above her in the rafters. They watched her and Praseme leave with wary eyes.
Meluscia rode the grassy trail back to the royal gate in silence, the only sound that of the horse hooves beneath her. But before she and Praseme reached the end, the pleasant quiet was disrupted by a soldier on horseback.
“Luminess,” said the soldier, kneeling, “a party of six has arrived at the Hold, five claiming to be prophets and another man on a stretcher. They claim the injured man is dangerous and should be placed under security. One of the prophets who calls himself Wiluit wishes to speak with you.”
Meluscia smiled. She was relieved the Makers hadn’t sent the prophets on some new errand. Perhaps they would stay a while…perhaps she could convince them to help her.
“Bring Wiluit to meet me in the Scriptorium. He is a friend. Do as they say with the injured man and send the physicker to see him. Give the prophets our finest available room and be sure they receive a meal fit for royalty. No salted fish.”
Meluscia glanced through shelves of old books. The titles and the contents within could usually whisk her mind away to other times and distant places, but hope kept her feet firmly planted on the here and now.
The fire-lit crystals that hung from the Scriptorium’s ceiling shimmered brightly, refracting vitreous red light across the room. Meluscia wondered if the enchantment of the place might make her words more reverential, more enticing. Each of the five prophets’ gifts could be invaluable to her mission.
The Scriptorium door at the top of the spiral staircase swung open. Descending were four soldiers and a man dressed in riding clothes. It was not Wiluit.
The rider knelt before Meluscia. “I have King Feaor’s message to deliver.” He held out a parchment in his hand. She took it from him and read silently.
I have decided early. You have the hand of the Verdlands in your endeavor. We must meet to discuss the details. I hope this letter finds you safe and well.
Below was the seal of the king.
Her heart leapt at this good news.
The doors of the Scriptorium opened again and walking through them was Wiluit, followed by two soldiers.
“Give my deepest thanks to the king,” said Meluscia to Feaor’s messenger. “Tell him that I am now Luminess, and if he would, to come to the Hold as soon as he is able.”
The man bowed and left with the four soldiers.
Meluscia turned to the two remaining soldiers beside Wiluit. “I wish to talk to the prophet alone.”
The soldiers left, and Wiluit bowed his head.
“I’m surprised to see you,” said Meluscia, reining in her excitement and giving him a simple smile. Concern suddenly struck her as she remembered their parting. “Is Jauphenna well?”
“She is now, but it took me half a day to find her. She was nearly st
olen by Harcor.”
Meluscia stared at Wiluit. She had suspected Harcor was the “dangerous man” that had arrived on the stretcher, but something Wiluit said disturbed her.
“Harcor is badly injured,” said Wiluit, seeming to react to her frightened expression. “He has a broken back. I wouldn’t have brought him except for the state he was in. I had no other choice.”
Meluscia shook her head, dismissing Wiluit’s concern. Though the idea of Harcor being within the walls of the Hold made Meluscia’s skin crawl, Wiluit had misread what had vexed her. “You say he tried to steal Jauphenna?”
Wiluit nodded. “There is much to say about that, and I hardly understand it myself. It seems Harcor is god-gifted, as we are, but he has turned. You remember the Cherah from Seethus’ writings—the story I read aloud?”
“Yes.”
“Isolaug gave Harcor a small flock of the creatures. They had gifts. Good gifts. But the creatures had been tainted in some way. Harcor was using them for his master’s cruel ends.”
“This is disturbing news,” said Meluscia. “I never imagined the god-gifted could use their talent for cruelty. I suppose it is not unlike my sister, who changed her path and used her cruelty for good.”
“How are you faring?” asked Wiluit. “I heard news of your father when I arrived here.”
“I am well enough. I was able to hold his hand as he passed. That was a gift.”
“And now you are Luminess,” said Wiluit warmly.
Meluscia whispered, “Yes, for a short time.” She placed both hands on her stomach. “I have much to do in the meantime.”
Wiluit stepped closer to Meluscia. “Do you remember your words in the woods? You insisted you saw a leader in me.”
“I remember.”
His green eyes blazed in the glow of the lit crystals. “I see the same in you, Meluscia. You are a great leader. And you are courageous for striving to defeat such a powerful enemy.”
Meluscia turned, uncomfortable with the undeserved praise. “Thank you, Wiluit.”
She walked over to the bookshelf and fidgeted with the spine of a random tome. She sighed. It was no use waiting to say what she wanted. She turned back to face him. “You and your band have gifts that could turn the scales of battle in our favor.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is there any hope that the five of you could be allies in my war against the Beast?”
“Yes and…maybe,” said Wiluit.
Her lips twisted into a smile. “What does that mean?”
“You wish for me and my band to be your allies, but I cannot promise you that. All I can promise is that I will stay and fight with you.” Wiluit knelt. “Luminess, it is my honor to serve you in your war effort.”
“On your feet!” she commanded.
When he stood, she assaulted him with a powerful embrace. After a lingering moment, she drew back. “Do not kneel before me again. Besides being an ally, I consider you a friend.”
Wiluit’s smile was serious. “We’ve faced a great deal of danger together, and I suspect there is much more to come.”
Yes, thought Meluscia, together. Wiluit’s presence breathed confidence into her and brought the frail hope of defeating Isolaug into the realm of true possibility.
Meluscia sighed, her thoughts turning to future plans. “You’ll have to excuse me,” she said. “You must be tired, and I need some time alone to think. Tomorrow I will meet with my two councilors to prepare for the arrival of the regents. I should like it if you’d join us.”
“Of course,” said Wiluit. “I think I’ll sleep as hard as Seethus tonight.”
Meluscia laughed and Wiluit turned and left the room.
When he had gone, she prepped a new twig for lighting the next day then, one by one, blew out the candles, each red crystal going dark. In sightless black, she climbed the staircase and stepped outside into a swarm of stars.
The gray clouds and rain had passed.
She climbed atop the Scriptorium rock and moved to the edge of the sharp cliff that plummeted to the lower plateau. She fixed her gaze eastward, into the Star Garden Realm.
There was no sound where she sat, not even a cricket’s chirp, for it had grown too cold this high on the mountain. Silence brought a stir of thoughts. Praseme’s kind face and the warmth of her friendship. The shame she now felt when she looked at Mica. Savarah’s parting words of warning. The initial shock she felt discovering Savarah had been sent to kill her. King Feaor’s open-handed acceptance of her treaty. His decision to ally with her in war. Wiluit’s hand in hers as he led her through the thicket to the Maker. His kind words only moments ago.
Everything she’d fought honestly for had been won, her sins now made right.
Yet, everything she now needed, yearned for, or feared, was still uncertain. Could she unite the two Sea Kingdoms to her cause? What might the remaining spies do to create chaos?”
Would the war be won?
Would the child inside her be safe…would the little one live to be born?
Her eyes drifted up into the glory of stars above her.
Guide me past my worries.
Meluscia ran her fingers over Monaiella’s sheathed blade, gazing at it a long while under the blush of starlight.
A confident glint entered her eyes and she looked to the eastern horizon—to the realm of the Beast. To war and to hope.
RAM
The Kel-Kiehueth is alive. It is among us. A terror like his brethren, sunken eyes of a beast of burden buried in a mountain of deadly flesh.
And the way it enters your mind—it is like the raking of a demented god.
Yet, hail the Kel-Kiehueth, for its life marks the freeing of our world.
-Tortosh, Temple Keeper of the Doyyg Shrine
Chapter Forty-Four
WINTER
The moment she stepped through the portal, a sultry heat filled her lungs. The air was heavy, humid, and it clung to her skin like a hot day after a summer thunderstorm. Stretching to her right was a long line of odd-looking trees. The enormous green branches hung down around pedestal-like trunks. Beyond them was thick green foliage too dense to see through. The smell of the jungle was thick with damp wood and pungent with fungus and rotting leaves.
The sight of the alien plants and trees filled her with a sense of wonder. She was on another world, staring at an exotic forest— not a forest, but a jungle, her VOKK interpreted.
“This is it,” said Galthess from behind her. He was looking down at a small device in his hands. “The coordinates are exact. The sun of this world is the tip of the Huntress’ spear.” He looked up from his device and his eyes widened. “What a gorgeous view.”
Winter turned and looked, following his gaze. She was speechless, for the moment was too powerful for words. She realized that she and Galthess stood on a high, steep-sided plateau. The cliff below them was sheer. Beyond was a vast horizon of green, tree-tangled mountains. The sky was tinted pink, the sun just rising.
The view was beautiful, but something about it unnerved her. At first, she couldn’t figure out why. She felt a strange sense of familiarity. It was an odd sensation to feel…as if she’d been here long ago.
“Would you look at this,” said Galthess. He had walked to the edge of the plateau and was looking over the cliff.
Winter took a step toward him, and then stopped as it suddenly hit her where she’d seen this view before.
Her latest vision. This was the place.
This was where she would be pushed off the cliff.
“What’s wrong, Winter?” Galthess asked, turning to her with a frown.
She took a step back. It was an act…everything he’d said. It was his way of leading her here, where he could….
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You look pale.”
She glanced back along the way they’d come, looking for the portal. But there was no sign of it. All she could see were the strange-looking trees. It dawned on her now that she hadn’t taken the time to look at her immediate surroundi
ngs after coming through the portal. The way back to Loam could be hidden anywhere in those trees. Looking at the endless line of strange foliage, she felt suddenly disoriented.
“I want to go back,” said Winter.
“You can’t go back,” said Galthess gently. “You’re the Contagion. The portals do not work the same for you as they do for the rest of us.”
She turned to look at him. He remained at the edge of the plateau.
“If you step back through the portal,” he said, “you’ll be taken to Hearth, the third planet. The only way you can get back to Loam is if you go through the portal at Hearth. But then, the circuit around the triangle will be complete. I can’t let that happen.”
“So you did lie to me.”
A heaviness entered Galthess’ eyes, almost as if he were deciding something. “Yes. I lied to you, Winter.”
Winter edged backward toward the jungle. “Why did we come here? So you could push me off the edge?”
Galthess left the cliff side and walked toward her. “You’ve had a vision.”
“Stay where you are,” said Winter.
“You’re lost here, Winter. I watched you. You didn’t pay attention to the portal as you exited. It’s a mistake we all make at first.” He took something sleek and black from his pocket, a sphere the size of his fist.
Galthess stared down at the smooth black object and seemed to weigh his options. “Winter, it is the gods who’ve cursed you, not I. I don’t want to kill you, but you are the Contagion. Your life is like a key, and it leads to the pit of the unknown. If you were to make the circuit of the triangle and unleash whatever lies beyond, there’s no telling what new cruelty might come upon our galaxy.”
Winter felt her breaths shorten. She sensed the need to say something—to delay Galthess—as if doing so might prolong her own death. “Did you lie about your doubts? Do you not question the conclusions of your order?”