Armond
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Taxonomy upgrade extras:
After Winter
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
After Winter
by armond
Owain wanted to die. Everyone he loved was gone, and now he longed to follow. No, more than that, he dreamed of death, hungered for its endless black. On a bitter winter's day, his dream was set to come true ...until the tale went badly off-script. Or maybe, the seasons happen exactly as they should.
Author's note: This is a story I have posted a storylink to previously, and I apologize for the redundancy. But several of the characters of After Winter will soon enter my current series, Duty and Destiny, (two in the next chapter, in fact), so I wanted to post it here to give readers the context.
After Winter
by armond
“Frozen brown. All there is out here, goddammit! Where the hell's spring?”
“Stop bitching. It'll be here, any day now, the rumor is. But not for our good Captain Owain.”
That would be me, my idiot Black Brigade escorts were referring to - Captain Owain. Prince Owain. Owain of the Sorrows. The man who'd lost everything.
My chaperones may be little more than the glorified ass-licks of a tyrant, but they were dead on about spring - for me, it will never come again.
Brown earth and bitter cold.
It’s all I know. All I am.
After we arrived at the Selene compound, the king's crack troop crab-scuttled to the safety of a nearby ridge. Their commander drew a sword and shook it; his retarded way of pushing me on, I supposed. He thought I'd run? Useless shit bag.
I hammered a fist on the wooden gate…
…Once. Twice. A third time.
It ground opened, and a company of warriors, flashing steel, surrounded me. The Selene Guard.
Their green tunics fluttered in the biting winter wind, but they didn't notice, gripping their swords white-knuckle hard. These women meant business.
Let's finish this. I cleared my throat:
“I represent the king of Abirav, and have come for justice.”
Before my echo died, the Black Brigade turned tail and run. The little chickshits were terrified of the Selenes!
A lanky woman, their leader I guessed, jumped in my face. I assumed she was in charge, since sword scars criss-crossed her arms, her silver hair spoke of battles survived, and her face reminded me of a hawk’s. You know, sharp, smart, noble. If she gave me an order, I’d follow.
Her voice hissed through clenched teeth:
“F-o-l-l-o-w.”
How's that for instant wish fulfillment? Speaking of wishes, hawk woman’s were scrawled on her face — she wanted to chop off my head.
Thing is, I hope she gets her wish. I want it too. I'm ready. Can't. wait.
My fear? They'll draw out my death. Make me suffer like their sister.
It was warmer inside their gate, and as we paced down a white stone path, I saw new grass shoots peeking up between the stones. The play of spring green on chalk white mesmerized...
...odd what you think of at the end.
They marched me through a courtyard, where a fountain splashed; a maiden, nude-in-marble, poured healing water from her chalice. Selene the Radiant, I reckoned, for she wore the triple moon crown.
Evening danced in those waters, dusk light sparkled through the falling spray, and glimmered coins on the fountain floor.
Soon we reached a stone doorway, its sides, covered in waxy vines. A silver patchwork covered the oak doors, which, when closed, formed a triple moon. Council room? Temple? Didn't know. Not that it mattered. The doors creaked open.
Women.
Women everywhere. Young, old, all shapes, hues, crowding the chamber walls, leaving a narrow path to a center platform.
Where I was to be judged. And executed.
The crowd's anger branded me in heat waves as the guards hauled me to the platform. When we stopped, the commander -she who hated me- barked:
“Kneel.”
She shoved me to my knees. Looking up, I saw nine robed women, seated in thrones; the famed Selene priestesses. The woman in the center had her hood drawn back, and I saw a silver circlet of crescent moons topped her golden hair.
I knew her.
She’d come to the king's palace months ago, seeking justice. She was high priestess…
…and mother to the one who'd been savaged.
Her voice was soft, yet it traveled to the farthest rafter.
“You are to be our justice?”
“I'm here.”
“You are not the monster who destroyed my Lilly. He who-”
She turned away, and when she looked back, her eyes glistened.
“You are not he.”
I tried to imagine what they were feeling - the hideous crime to their sister, the Selenes’ cry for a reckoning, months of bureaucratic stonewalling, and finally, the earth-shaking admission of guilt by the king. Was he to take his punishment? Would even he be subject to the law?
Then, instead of King Amangons at their gates, enter me.
These women were pissed.
This was what Amangon intended all along. His grotesque joke. I could almost hear the gleeful howls back in his putrid chambers.
There was nothing for it. I read my appointed speech:
“Our priests proclaim that the king, as man, can be guilty, but that the king, as god-on-earth, cannot be. Therefore, I am sent as surrogate for punishment.”
Wails erupted. Shrieks so loud I covered my ears. Did I say they were pissed off? Calling them that is like calling a hurricane ‘breezy.’ They tore their hair, ripped their clothes, and beat their breasts.
My hope for a quick death dissolved. They wanted blood. Mine was handy.
Above the screams I heard their commander's words: “Know this, maggot, not for a moment did we think King Pestilence would come.”
She spat. It hit my face high, and rolled down. Nice shot.
“If left to me, I'd chop you in two, and send your rotting carcass to the Worm in a barrel, with a shiny red bow on top.”
“But it is not left to you, Neasa,” the high priestess said, and a room filled with the voices of a hundred screaming women grew so quiet, I could hear my heart beat.
“She's my daughter, too,” Neasa cried. “My baby too.”
I blinked; they were lovers? I'd heard Selenes life partnered sometimes, but, who knew they raised families?
I tried to figure how they got the male seed for their get, when the high priestess' anguish ripped me from my stupid musing.
“She was OUR baby, she was beloved by all. She was…”
She straightened, and addressed the hall.
“What do we seek, sisters?”
They answered as one. “Selene's justice!”
“What say you to the will of our sisters, man,” Neasa snarled in my ear.
I licked cracked lips. “Kill me. Now. Make my death give you pleasure.”
“How were you chosen as king's surrogate,” the high priestess asked. “You committed some crime? You are an outlaw or brigand?”
“No ma'am, I’m a prince and captain of the Gwenal Brigade.”
“Gwenal? A valiant troop, but lost, I thought, on Mount Caledonia.”
“I alone returned.”
At that, she leaned in, and her eyes dug into me, —I felt them-! I couldn't bear that gaze and looked down.
“Why are you so eager to die?”
Because I didn't deserve to live! Because by living, I betrayed my men. Oisán, Fergus, Theron ...my brothers trusted me with their lives and followed me to their doom.
How could I tell her? Yes, she's suffered a heart-wrenching loss, but she hadn't killed her daughter. How could she understand my shame? How could she understand how...
...how I hated myself.
When I answered, all I managed was a whisper:
“I returned”
“I see.”
Her voice held sadness again. “But did you? Did you return?”
I didn't know what she asked, so I kept my mouth shut and head lowered.
“Again I say, how were you chosen?”
“By king's decree, we cast lots,” I answered. “I lost.”
Amangons was furious I'd spoken against him at the Arcum war council. It didn't take a scholar to know they’d rigged the drawing.
It didn't matter.
Nothing did, save that I die, and soon.
I raised my eyes to meet hers. I would hear my sentence with dignity.
I saw she weighed some matter, turning it in her mind. Then she looked on me, so long I started to twitch. Her eyes skewered me, pierced my soul. They grew round, dark, and filled my mind. Did she plan to stare me to death?
Because, I thought, maybe she could.
“Captain, do you give your life to me?”
“I don't understand the question.”
I didn't! Look, this wasn't complicated. Amangons destroyed their sister, leaving her in a coma from which she couldn’t wake. These Selenes wanted the head -or the balls- of my mage-king on a pike. Short of an armed attack on his palace, all they would get were mine.
“You alone can give your life. Do you give it freely to me?”
Wouldn't that make me a slave? I'd have died once before saying that.
I'm not stupid; I knew she asked something deeper. But my life was forfeit. They were going to kill me, I mean, isn't that why I’m here?
If the gods were merciful, they'd have taken my life on Caledonia, to let me rest with the bones of my men, beneath a bloodstained meadow. But they are not merciful.
Did it matter if I said her words? I didn't care, not anymore.
“I give you my life.”
Then I felt ...I don't know how to explain it, but somewhere deep in me, a cord snapped.
“Well then.”
She stood. “Sisters! We shall have Selene's judgment.”
When she stepped from her throne, I felt her power building in her, crackling. I don't know much about magic, by when my hair started standing on end, I figured, 'well, this was it, time to die. At last.'
I've imagined it -my death- for so long, and now it's here at last. The forgetting. Endless black sleep.
Bring it, Selene. Bring me it now.
“This one was sent to serve justice, and so he will. Hear my sentence, sisters! See the wonder Selene has shown.”
She loomed before me. “When you live what Lilly lived, learn what she knew and feel what she felt, then will Selene's justice be served.”
What?
From her robe, she pulled an ebony wand, and pointed it at me. Her smile turned ...mischievous?
“That you are ready for death, brave Captain, I have no doubt, but you are ready for this?”
The world turned sun bright, and into that brightness I fell, finding at last, the darkness I so craved.
zzawkzzmmmmzzcptn
A fly was buzzing my head.
I tried to swat it, but I couldn't raise my arms.
“I said, awake, my Captain.”
It wasn't a fly, but a voice and...
I'm not dead?
“Don't panic; you are safe, in my bed.”
That sounded nice, silky and soothing, until a thought tore through my head.
Why am I not dead?!
“I've placed a stasis spell on …hmm, that's a bit technical. I’ve frozen you to lessen injury during your change.”
Every muscle burned. What had she done to me? Soon, the pain faded, which she must have sensed, for she spoke when it was gone.
“You're feeling better, I think.” Then she chanted words I didn't know.
“I've removed the spell, so you can open your eyes.”
I did, to see the high priestess peering down. Whatever she'd done must have taken a lot out of her. She looked spent, like she hadn't slept in a dozen days; her eyes looked redder than a demon's hide and dark circles hung below them.
I cleared my throat. “The pain's gone I-”
Gods! My voice was two octaves too high!
“Take it slow, little one. Sit up.”
Little one?
My body moved not by my will, but by her command. What the hell was happening?
Once up, I knew something was wrong, was off —strange weight hung from my chest, my legs and arms felt short by half, and crimson hair dangled in my eyes.
“What have you done to me?”
“Hush, dear,” she said, in a singsong way, freezing my lips. “Be calm.”
My body relaxed and she took my hand. “Look at me.”
I had no choice. Her dark eyes filled my mind, enthralling me.
“Selene told me what she wanted. You are a true surrogate. Amangons took Lilly, so you will take her place. I’ve changed you into a young woman. A beautiful one.”
WHAT?
Words wouldn't come. Nobody warned me these bitches might not kill me. And to be turned into this? Why was I so serene? Why wasn't I screaming my lungs out? She sensed my thoughts, I guess, for she patted my hand.
“You gave yourself to me. Such an offer is dangerous, for one with power can do with you as she wishes. Selene blessed me with more sorgente than any in Argentia, save Kemia of the Anatol Isles. And with my power, and I’ve taken your will. And changed you …greatly.”
“Watch this,” she said, flashing a wicked grin. “Rub your head in a circle and say blurg blurg blurg.”
My right hand rose to the top of my head and started rubbing; I couldn't stop it.
“Blurg blurg blurg.”
Was I her puppet? Was this some sick revenge to make a clown of me?
“Without screaming, speak your mind.”
I didn't need a second invitation. For the next minutes I told her exactly what I thought of what she'd done, and how I would murder her slowly if she didn't end this and grant me death NOW. I could have gone on longer -I was just warming up- when she hushed me again.
“Well! I know where I stand. Tell me, is it …um …anatomically possible …to do that to me?”
Her face had turned red, but she gave me a shit-eating grin, too. She thought this funny? Let’s see how she laughs when I choke the life out of her!
“No matter. Now that's out of your system, let me tell you how things are. Until I say otherwise, your words will be just 'yes ma'am' or 'no ma'am.' And you will always speak truth. Do you understand?”
I tried to say, 'What I understand, is when I get the chance, I'll reach down your throat, rip out your heart, and let you see it still beating in my hand, as you die.'
All that came out was a sullen, “yes ma'am.”
“Such attitude, this will never do! Let's see …do you have a sister?”
I did, my last living family member. I prayed she was safe in nearby Pavnor. She'd fled the country with her husband at the start of Amangon's gruesome war, and I hadn’t heard from her since. Why did she ask? It's none of her business, but I had to answer.
“Yes, ma'am.” I put tons of hate into it.
“Do you remember how she spoke to you as a young lad, just out of swaddling clothes?”
“Yes ma'am,” I growled. My sister cooed over me. What of it?
“Speak using the tone she used with you.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Shit shit SHIT! My voice sounded sweet!
“Wonderful,” she said, clapping her slender hands.
She was getting cheap thrills from this. Put a knife in my hands and I'd show her something thrilling.
Her eyebrow raised. “We have work still on the attitude, I see. Come.”
I followed her across the room like chick to mother hen. It was my first look at my surroundings since I awoke. That I was in a bedchamber was apparent, for the gauzy canopy bed I had lain in camped in the center of the room.
A breeze fluttered through a window, stirring blue lace curtains. The scent seemed floral or herbal -I was never good at plants- and a bright sun spoke of morning.
Which meant my disgusting transformation happened through the night. So it was the next day? I was so disoriented; I never thought there'd be a next day.
Along the room's north wall, next to a mahogany dresser, stood a silver mirror. She pulled me to it.
Two women stared back, one was tall, golden-haired, and wrapped in a silken shawl. The other, a frizzy redhead dressed in a white night gown, came to the tall woman’s shoulder.
Wait...I’m her? The short one?
I turned so I wouldn't have to look at this thing that was supposed to be me.
“Look and see.”
My eyes wrenched back to the mirror, to see a red hair explosion, -ringlets, thousands- and dark red lips. I licked them, my new puffy lips. I ran a hand across a cheek that was silk. The eyes blinking at me were a blue that was almost green, and -dammit!-red freckles dotted my nose. Oh crap, I'm -
“-Lovely. I do such good work. So we can't have you scowling about, and blasting everyone with your stares.”
She thought a moment, lowering her head just enough so golden hair fell across her face. Then she flicked it back, and smiled.
“I've got it! You know what the girls of the Anatol Isles are prized for, I expect?”
Hell yes! They breed ‘em shy and submissive. I tried as hard as I could not to speak, but my mouth answered anyway, with syrup. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Act as they do.”
Gods, no, not that!
My eyes lowered, but I saw in the mirror my face changed. My jaw unclenched and my eyes …I looked like a scared doe!
“Purrrfect. Now, don't you feel better?”
“No ma'am,” I answered oh-so-soft. I tried to spot something to brain her with, a candlestick maybe, or a vase.
“I imagine …you want to murder me about now, am I wrong?”
“No ma'am.”
She frowned. “I phrased that poorly. Do you want to kill me?”
“Yes ma'am.”
I lunged for the glass water pitcher I'd spied on a nearby stand. I smashed it, and grabbed a large shard. So, who did I hate most, this twisted bitch of a priestess, or me? In a split second I decided; I turned the shard to my stomach and plunged-
“FREEZE.”
I could feel the tip of the shard just breaking the skin on my stomach …but I couldn’t push it in!
“THAT was stupid of me,” she said, and pried the shard from my fingers.
“You are to harm NO ONE,” she hissed in my ear. “No living thing. Do you understand? Speak freely; I want to hear you say it.”
“If you won't fucking kill me, then at least leave me the dignity to do it myself.”
“NO! Do no harm to yourself!” She wrenched my face so that her eyes bore into mine; her will was smothering.
“DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND?”
I let out a tiny sigh. “Yes ma'am.”
“Excellent.” Her face relaxed and she let go of my face. “You may move again, um …we haven't formally met, have we?”
“No ma'am.”
“I am Cunedda and you are …well you are Rose, of course.”
And so I was.
I couldn't think of myself as anything else - I knew my old name, Owain, Owain of the Sorrows…
Yeah, I remembered my past life, but now …I was Rose.
“Let me show you your new station. Lilly White was our herb woman, and now Rose Red will take her place. Since my daughter’s attack, her garden has grown wild. Your battle skills are needed, my Captain; a war awaits with weeds. Follow me, and I will arm you with a dandelion popper.”
So began my time in the Garden of Selene.
The Selene compound was a study in practicality; rectangular, it ran north-south and housed the council room I was judged in, a sanctuary, craft workshops, an open-air parade ground, kitchen, mess hall, sleeping quarters and other rooms typical to a complex that a hundred sisters called home.
Their garden was the opposite of practical; it was enchanted. I don’t mean that in the flowery way, I mean enchanted.
Though weedy from lack of attention, it teemed with life even this early in the season. From Lilly's magic?
The garden traveled west from the compound, bordered by high granite walls. Its far side had no wall, but opened to the wild woods of dark Elmete Forest.
Near the compound, it was a 'working' garden, with rows of vegetable plots bounded by apple, pear, and peach trees.
In the garden's center, an herb labyrinth wove in dizzying knots, its white marble path spiraling from entrance to center, and out the other way. The Selenes used it as a walking meditation.
At the heart of the labyrinth, on a covered marble dais, rested Lilly White, draped in whitest silk, her pale-gold hair splayed under her head.
She lay unwaking, her life-force preserved by Cunedda's potent sorgente power. If you stood stone still, and stared at her silk-wrapped breasts, after many minutes you might see her breathe - the slightest of movements.
Gods, if I didn't just do that; I couldn’t help but stare.
From her dais, the path traveled west to dark Elmete; with each step the plants grew more chaotic, turning to wild blooms and running vines, brambles and hazel nut trees.
My first tasks in the garden were manual; weeding, pruning, mulching, tilling, and planting. Dressed in a short-sleeved brown cotton tunic that came just above my knees, leather sandals and a wide floppy hat, I worked sunrise to sunset.
I was woefully mistaken in thinking my military days had toughened me for anything. After one day's work, every muscle in my body screamed. It would have been worse in my old male form, I think, for this female flesh I wore was young and limber. At night, I bathed, chewed any scrap of food shoved in front of me, and crawled to my cot.
I thought I'd scraped bottom when, instead of dying, I was transformed into this pathetic little creature. I was wrong - a week or so after I came to the garden, a farmer delivered wagonloads of manure.
All for me to spread.
Two weeks into my sentence, a morning came when, instead of sending me armed with trowel or rake or such, Cunedda held a painting before me, of a green stemmed flower with a bloom of little pinkish orange petals.
“This is Calendula, a healing plant.”
She raised another painting; the plant looked like mint to me.
“This is Lemon Balm. It's used in teas, and when rubbed on the skin, keeps mosquitoes away.”
She held a third painting, of a bush that resembled holly, except its leaves were whitish blue.
“This is Red Orache. It tastes like salty spinach. Go to the garden and fetch bunches of all three.”
My body carried me into Selene’s garden, in search of these herbs. Every morning, before I started my labors, Cunedda would send me so.
At the beginning of my sentence, I couldn't tell parsnip from catnip, but I would, in time, know the name of every twig, sprig and whirligig there.
Hatred, scorn, contempt, disgust...
I didn’t know enough words to capture the inferno in me in those first days.
I fought Cunedda's commands. I didn't understand her magic, but I learned, that by giving myself, I'd given her absolute power over me. Every moment of the day I struggled to refuse to work, or to cry out against my enslavement. I tried to make even one finger do my will instead of hers. Tried, and failed.
I was prisoner in my own body.
Well, this alien flesh I wore, for it was no body of mine. Cunedda didn’t even have to supervise me; this body was my jailer. It executed her orders without question.
I wanted to mangle, to kill!
But no… if a fly landed on my arm I couldn't even slap it. I was as powerless as a babe. No, worse, for a baby can scream. All I could say was 'yes ma'am' and 'no ma'am' in the sweetest of voices to the Selenes as they strolled the garden path.
On the inside, I was molten lava.
In the end, even lava cools. You rage for so long, and the mind craves other thoughts.
As my fury dulled with the passing days, I started to wonder - what was my fate?
Slave labor couldn't be the justice Selene wanted; if someone destroyed my sister, I'd want to make them scream ...beg for mercy ...eye for an eye.
Cunedda's curse - that I’d 'live what she lived' and 'feel what she felt' had to mean I’d know her pain, right? I tried to remember the details - was she attacked, or had Amangons done worse. Rape? Was that my future? Was that Cunedda's scheme in putting me in this body?
Call me paranoid, but it was then I noticed Commander Neasa watching me, staring, silent, and ...waiting? Why? Would it happen soon?
That made me look over my shoulder, and shy from brush thickets or trees, or anywhere someone might hide.
I'd led men into places where death rained and never hesitated an instant. Yet, in this meek body and under my curse, I was scared of my shadow.
Worse, I had the creepy feeling the garden hated me, or at least was angry at my trespassing in Lilly's realm. From nowhere, tree limbs sprung to scratch me, and vines always tangled my feet.
During this wretched time, I turned as timid inside as I looked on the outside.
The mind wearies of fear too, and after a long first month, my turmoil withered to resigned acceptance.
I was helpless. I could do nothing about this.
Nothing.
It was then, the garden accepted me, or at least it no longer conspired against me - branches stopped ambushing, and vines no longer snaked about my feet.
A funny thing happened next; stripped of my will, I stopped picking at the scabs of my 'what ifs' and 'should have beens'.
Once I accepted I had no say in anything I did, I started to see ...oh a hundred things, for when you can't 'do,' anything, all that's left is 'be.'
Did you know the morning breeze carries the scent of wildflowers as it sweeps through the garden?
Or that bird songs fill the air when you close your eyes and listen? I stopped counting at sixteen.
When I tilled the soil, and dug my fingers in the spongy loam, I felt the earth alive!
One rainy day, as I bent to pick an herb Cunedda had shown me -Lily of the Valley, which was quieting to the heart - a thought smacked my head:
I didn’t hate myself for not dying with my men.
I mean, it’s not like I’m some hardened warrior anymore. I was a girl.
I’m a girl!
A small one, and my body, my life, my every breath, is controlled by another. Since I was helpless to change this, what could I do about the past?
Something stirred in me as I wandered to the compound, with rake on shoulder, and dusk’s gray glow in my eyes.
It felt like a seed, opening in dark moist soil.
“Rose, I'm thinking about wearing my flowery skirt and red silk blouse on my date with my Julian. If you were he, would you, um, be excited?”
I was eating supper with my pals in the dining hall. During my first days, I ate alone. Soon, a gaggle of young Selenes, apprentices to the carpenter, the silversmith, and the painter, conscripted me into their gang.
How thirsty I was for their friendship! My life had become so hollow after I'd lost my family and my brothers-in-arms. These Selene women -who knew who I'd been- took me with no questions asked. It meant so much that they did.
True, my 'sisters' had fun with the ‘new girl’ -making a huge production of my first period- and they loved frustrating me with my simple speech. Then my novelty wore off and they pulled me in their lives as one of their own.
They were keen to know my male perspective. Turns out, women are as mystified by men, as men by women. The difference, I learned from my gang, was women had the good sense to hide it.
I looked at Teresa and imagined her in the outfit. I tried to pump kindness in my answer, but I had to say ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and nothing but truth.
“No ma'am.”
She sighed. “Does any part work?”
Teresa was a looker, a busty auburn-haired gal, and a tight shirt would highlight her assets. Her Julian was a ruddy buck from a nearby town, and I knew his eyes would pull to her chest like iron to magnet. Mine were.
“Yes ma'am.”
She reddened when she saw where my eyes were fixed, but she smiled, too.
“So the skirt doesn't do it?”
“No ma'am.”
What can I say? Teresa was a little bottom-heavy and the skirt showed it.
Our silversmith apprentice, the coffee skinned, dark eyed Maggie, swallowed a bite of her salad -spinach courtesy of my labors, thank you very much- and pointed her fork at me.
“You have no idea why, do you Rose?”
“No ma'am.”
“Your are a clueless man in there,” Maggie said, thunking my head. “Listen, you're on our team now, so you need to know these things. The busy floral design of the skirt draws the eye to it, and the pattern spreads out, looking wider than it is. You’d look fine in it, but Teresa already has an ample butt, and…”
I got it. She was right, I was clueless. As a prince, my heraldic colors were royal blue and black, so I threw on a pair of black pants, a blue shirt, and that was it. This was a level of dressing I never dreamed existed.
Maggie turned to Teresa. “You’ll need more of a triangle shaped skirt; narrow at the top, flaring wider at the bottom. It’ll slim you enough to keep him looking where Rose's eyes were glued and not at your butt. I've got a dark one that’ll go with your blouse, if you want to borrow it.”
Teresa looked at me. “Would that do it for Julian?”
I looked down, trying not to show how the picture in my mind of her busty silky top and slimmer bottom affected me. It’s confusing! Instead of an erection, the image of her dressed so made me ...damp.
This body was so odd; I wasn't sure if I'd ever get used to it. When I answered, my voice was huskier than I expected.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Everyone burst into laughter; apparently I'd done a poor job disguising my lust.
When I looked up, I saw a Selene guard marching to us.
“Rose, High Priestess Cunedda and Commander Neasa would see you.”
They wanted to talk with me? Why? Neither had before, only speaking at sunrise when I was ordered to my tasks, or dusk to check my progress.
I followed to where they sat with the other priestesses and stood with lowered head. I didn't give a care to my meekness, nor to the dress I wore. It was what it was.
Stealing a look, I saw Cunedda wore her favorite purple shawl, and when her eyes met mine, they sparkled. Neasa was wrapped in a green robe that matched her eyes, one of which, I swear, winked.
“Are you bitter, Rose? Are you angry?”
Cunedda's questions surprised me.
“Ma'am?”
“When you came here, your soul was dust. After I changed you, you burned with rage. Is your heart filled with bitterness? Do you cry for revenge?”
“No ma'am.”
My answer surprised me. Then Neasa took my hand, surprising me more.
“Are you at peace?”
“Yes ma'am.”
I was? But I must be, for I only spoke truth.
“The vessel has been emptied. She will now …appreciate …what comes next,” said a black-haired priestess to her right, Lydie, I think. “She’s ready, Cunedda.”
“I believe she is. Tomorrow her true lessons begin,” Cunedda said. “Ride at dawn, Neasa, for the time draws near, and we must know Amangons’ strength when he comes.”
Did she mean my curse was now to be fulfilled?
She must have read my worry, for she smiled. “You'll have to see what morning brings, my Rose.”
I didn't sleep much that night.
In the morning, when timid little me stuck her head into Cunedda's study, she held up a white short dress.
“Put this on.”
I did. Then I stood, still and curious, as she sang words I didn’t know, and waved a smoking sage wand around me.
Neasa strode in, dressed in boots, brown pants, and a hooded travel cloak. Cunedda gave her a tight hug and a slow kiss.
“Please be careful in your search, my love. I've grown fond of your snoring, and if he knows you follow, he will kill you …after a fashion.”
“Fear not, you'll not shed me so easily. I'll get within bow shot, no more. Any closer, and I’d puke,” she said, grinning. Then Neasa took my hand and gave a gentle squeeze.
“Luck on your searches too, little Rose.”
I nodded, caught off guard by her affection. She left, with a swoosh of her cloak.
After Cunedda watched her lover ride away, she spoke and her voice held such sadness.
“It was sorrow that brought you to our door, Rose. My sorrow, for the loss of my daughter…” she paused when her voice cracked, “…your sorrow at the loss of your comrades. And Selene's sorrow at the king's inhumanity. Go to the garden and fetch me three sorrows.”
“Ma'am?”
“Bring me three sorrows. Neither eat nor drink nor rest until you do.”
Sorrows, what?
I needed to ask her so much more, but my body had grabbed my basket and floppy hat and was marching outside.
I wandered the labyrinth path for hours, wondering where was sorrow? Where sadness?
To my left was a mass of red poppies, and to the right, a carpet of bluebells. I had just passed a yellow chrysanthemum field, and ahead were explosions of purple and white lilac blooms, dark violet scabriosas, red geraniums and yellow sunflowers and…
…where was sorrow here?
After the sun fled to the west, a funny thought came -I'm prone to these since Cunedda changed me- to sit in the grass, clear my mind …and listen. Cross-legged, I closed my eyes and tried to hear sorrow as I would a birdcall.
For a time, all I heard was my mind bitching about how stupid this was, but then I heard -or did I feel?- a tone.
It sounded like, a bowed instrument, playing lonesome notes. It called to me in that place that held the memories of my brothers.
I rose to follow, but the music vanished the instant I opened my eyes. By experimenting, I figured out that to hear the sound, my eyes must be shut tight.
Fine. I’d follow blind.
And I did, chasing that sweet sad sound, crashing through thorny bushes, bashing into trees, stumbling countless times.
Once, I whacked a tree limb so hard I saw stars, and felt a trickle of something from my scalp.
Like a dog on point, I kept going, yet it was a wonder I didn't knock myself stupid.
When at last I came to where the tone was strongest I halted, and opened my eyes.
They were bleary with tears -when had I started crying?- and jagged cuts covered my arms and legs.
I looked down.
Blue-purple flowers gathered at my feet, on light green bulbs. I knew this flowering herb-
Hyacinth.
I clipped some stalks and dropped them in my basket. I closed my eyes again and listened for more sorrow. This time, I heard a minor tune, so close.
I stumbled a dozen steps and opened my eyes, to see a patch of buttercup yellow flowers. I knew these, too-
Pheasant's Eye.
Once their blooms rested next to the Hyacinth in my basket, I started my search for the third sorrow.
Dusk came and went, and the garden shadows grew long. I was hungry and bleeding, yet I couldn't hear a third sorrow, just the scraping of dried leaves blowing along the path.
'How sad,' a thought bubbled in my brain, 'that dead leaves litter this temple of life.'
I stopped so suddenly, I almost fell over. I titled my head to the sky.
Is it that simple? You're laughing at me, Selene the Radiant, Selene the pain-in-the-ass!
I grabbed some crinkled leaves, and staggered back to the compound.
Cunedda knew when I would return, somehow, for she waited by the garden doorway.
She led me to her chambers and sat me down, giving fretful looks at my condition. She reached in the basket and took out a purple bloom.
“Hyacinth, for sorrow and forgiveness.”
Next, she pulled out a yellow bloom, and pressed it to her nose.
“Mmm, Pheasant's Eye, for sorrowful memories.”
Last, she grabbed a handful of leaves and crunched them.
“Dead leaves, for sadness. Three sorrows.”
She wiped blood and dirt from my face, and kissed my forehead.
“Well done, Rose, though you look half-dead from the chore. Are you in pain?”
“Yes ma'am.” It's hard to play the suffering silent one when you have to tell the truth.
She herded me to her dining nook, where I scarfed down bread, fresh from the oven, and slathered in butter and honey. I guzzled a tall glass of water, too, cool, straight from the well. At that moment, it tasted better than the finest lager.
Next, she walked -well, carried- me to a copper tub in her wash chambers that she'd filled with steamy water. She peeled my once white dress off and motioned me in. My wounds stung a moment and then the water melted all pain away.
“So, my herb woman in training, a pop quiz: what oils do I add to sooth; speak freely.”
I was so relaxed, it barely registered I could say more than 'yes' or 'no'.
“Sandalwood for tension and Bergamot for wounds, ma'am.”
“Excellent, yes,” she nodded, and I watched her pour two oils into the tub. Then she poured a third, that hit me fast, making my mind float and bob as my breasts did in the water.
Breasts, heh! Still hadn't gotten use to ‘em, all bounces and tingles and…
…oops, my mind was on a trip of its own; what had she put in the water?
“Ma'am …um …what oil was that? It feels like I'm …dissolving.”
“Does it now?” She was pouring water on my hair and massaging my scalp; mmmm, sooo niice.
“It's Ylang Ylang, love, from the Anatol Isles, good for shock and pain, and a strong sedative.”
It must have been, for I don’t remember much of her toweling me, rubbing lavender oil into my muscles, and lifting me into her canopy bed.
The last words I heard before sailing to dream land:
“Tomorrow you search for compassion.”
Compassion, wisdom, persistence, serenity, remembrance, humility…
Each morning Cunedda sent me, basket in hand, seeking.
Each day I opened my heart a crack more to the garden's soul, to find the plant that best showed the quality I sought.
My searches grew less painful -they had to, or I'd have died!- in part because I learned the garden pathways by heart.
In part, but that was not the sole reason my injuries lessened. I swear, there were times when I stumbled along blind, that the bushes and trees moved out of my way!
A morning came when Cunedda handed me my basket, kissed my forehead and said:
“Find love.”
The symbolism, the irony, wasn't lost on me: once a bloodied warrior seeking death, now I’m a maid, wandering among flowers, looking for love.
I roamed for hours, trying every trick I'd learned to find an herb or flower that was love.
I sensed it, but I couldn’t pin it down. It seemed everywhere, but just out of reach.
Maddening!
At last, I heard a faraway voice calling:
“R-o-s-e”
I raced after it. As I said, I knew the garden well enough now to jog it on a new moon midnight, so I knew where I'd ended before I opened my eyes.
The white dais stood before me.
Lilly!
I laid my cheek on her bosom.
In my first days in the Garden of Selene, I lowered my head when I passed where she lay, feeling guilty to gawk, on the curve of her breast, her lean legs outlined in silk, her golden hair.
Later, I came here to meditate, and …talk. For a reason I didn’t know, I could speak beyond 'yes ma'am/ no ma'am' at her feet, and did I ever. I chatted her up as if she were my oldest friend, reporting daily garden tasks, or rambling about this flower or that herb.
I even dared to pour out the sad tale of Prince Owain of the Sorrows.
So it was this spot that called when I searched the garden for love. How could I find a single plant to express it? It was everywhere. It was…
…the way Lilly sprinkled, a stand of sunflowers here, a strawberry patch there in her children's garden, for little hands to pick and eat.
…in the warmth of the garden she'd planted for the elderly, filling it with flower hues of red, yellow and orange, instead of blue, purple and green.
…or how she chose plants along the labyrinth path to heighten all the senses — with textures, colors, scents, and even sound. She arranged one row of different leafed plants in just such a pattern, that when the westwind blew, it sang.
…it was in me now too, for I think ...I think I must love her.
I guess I lost track of time, for when I looked up, the sun was gone.
With empty basket, I trudged to waiting Cunedda.
“Speak freely. Did you find love?”
“Lilly. But I couldn't bring her back, I couldn't…”
I guess I trembled, for she stroked my hair to calm me.
“Nor could I, even with all my power, I couldn't draw her back from the dark place Amangons cast her. Kemia, Selene's Healer could have, I think, but she is far far away in the southern Anatols."
A look of such sorrow came over her, as she whispered, "my own daughter, I couldn't…”
When I saw her tears, I threw my arms around her in a bear hug. Then I let go and paced, flailing my arms.
“What monster could harm her? Cannot I take her place? I demand ...no, I order you to switch her soul with mine; give her my body, anything to-”
“-Hush, my fiery Rose,” she said, and I did. Her eyes still glistened, but she smiled too, as she drew me to her again.
“Is there nothing I can do,” I murmured into her chest.
“Perhaps one thing, though I am scared to ask it.”
“Why?”
“For it would risk your life too. I've lost one daughter, I would die if I lost another.”
Neasa returned that night, haggard and with a bloodly gash on her arm. I ran to the herb pantry, returning with what I needed to treat it. I drenched it in lavender oil, dabbed it with a comfrey ointment, and bandaged it. Neasa gave a puzzled look.
“Did you tell her to do this, Cunedda?”
Cunedda’s head shook. “Rose doesn’t know it, but I've given her will back.”
She did? When?
“Thanks for your care, little Rose.” Nease said, touching her forehead to mine. Then she turned to Cunedda. “I've confirmed it; the Abomination has left his sty and is on the move. He’s with his Black Brigade. Is she ready?”
“Her training is complete,” Cunedda said.
It was?
“Rose, come with us, please? We've a story to tell you.”
We moved from Cunedda's dining nook to her study. It's a simple room, a polished hardwood floor, a plain wooden desk and chair, and an overstuffed couch. I'm not sure of the color the walls, for they were hidden by the floor-to-ceiling shelves that held Cunedda's magic books.
I’ve spent many nights on that couch lately, pouring over Lilly's garden diaries, while Cunedda toiled at her desk on some spell, or fretted over a piece of Selene business. After she finished we prayed to Selene, in the quiet of the night. I loved this room.
Cunedda and Neasa sat on the couch, and I plunked down at their feet.
“No, here with the adults.” Cunedda patted the cushion next to her.
When I moved to the open cushion, Neasa gave me a look.
“Honey, she doesn't control you anymore.”
“Ma'am?”
“When you sat down, you folded one leg under you and …right now, the way you bite your lower lip between your teeth...”
“Ma'am, I don't understand.”
“What Neasa is saying is how feminine you are,” Cunedda said. “I transformed you, yet even I can’t think of you any other way.”
I didn't know what to say, so I shrugged. “Why did you return my will?”
It’s funny, as much as I raged, I was sad to have it back. Life was carefree without it.
“Because we ask that which must be agreed by a free soul.”
My stomach churned, but I squared my shoulders. “Does this have to do with Lilly and …me suffering her fate? If so, I'm ready.”
“You may suffer her fate; we all may, who can say,” Neasa answered. “Listen to a wonder - on Midsummer Eve, when the sun's rays turn from yellow to pink, a single leaf of the Panax herb can be transformed into Panacea.”
Panacea? I knew plenty about herbs now, and I'd never heard of it. “Panax is a nasty weed. I’d have cleared it from the garden, but Cunedda stopped me.”
“It is a wonder of Selene! From the lowliest of plants comes a cure for ills, injuries, even delaying death for a season,” Cunedda said. “Only a young maid, trained in earth magic, may work the transformation.”
“Think of the good such a cure could do. Why haven't I heard of this?”
“Because, like a miser, Amangons hoards the miracle,” Neasa growled.
“What?”
“How old do you think he is,” Cunedda asked.
I dredged my memories. I was a boy when he came to King Canute's court, arriving in Abirav 'from the east', to become king’s advisor. Old Canute's death soon followed, and the High Lords elected Amangons Steward. He was to step down when a prince of the realm was deemed fit to rule.
Which never happened.
One by one, contenders for the throne died or vanished. One day, after years passed -and many princes passed away- Amangons took the crown, and that was that.
“It's funny, but I've …never gotten a good look at him. He’s always covered in a dark cloak or shadowed or…”
How can that be? All those years, and I'd never seen his face? Some strange magic must have been at work.
“…but my king has to be ancient.”
“Former king, Rose. You're one of us now,” Cunedda said, and I warmed, grateful for her correction.
“The Abomination is far older than you know,” Neasa said. “He was once a demigod of corruption, until the Cup Bearer Kiara Esmeé shattered his power and the Elves of the Eastern Reaches drove him from their lands.”
“That was decades ago,” Cunedda said. “Since then, he cheats death by eating Panacea. No Gray comes to his hair nor wrinkles to his face. Yet he must eat it, or perish. As he lacks the virtue to transform Panax, he uses black arts to divine where the change will be, and travels there to steal it.”
“But your sorgente magic is so powerful, Cunedda,” I said, “I mean, look what you did to me. Can't you fight him?”
She shook her head. “Though broken by the Elves, he is more powerful than any living magician. Know also, my sorgente magic comes from Selene, and She is life. I once used her gift to destroy and unleashed such tragedy and misery that I have vowed never to do so again.”
“I should have tried harder to oppose him.”
“That's not true, and you know it,” Neasa said.
She thought I lied? I'm not sure I can.
Cunedda touched Neasa's arm. “Love, I don't think that came out right.”
“What? No, I wasn’t carping,” she said. “The reason you wouldn’t have tried harder, is you did all you could, and paid the steepest price,” Neasa said. “I was so wrong about you. Forgive me. You stood against him at the War Council, arguing against his hideous war, as all others cowered in silence.”
True enough. He wanted yet another war, and why? This time it was against Arcum, but enemies for him were superfluous. Under Bloody Amangons, war followed war followed war. So I spoke out.
“…Your reward? A suicide charge. When you survived, he sent you here to die.”
Papa died in the Parasia war, both my older brothers fell at Erini, my sister fled the kingdom, and Momma died of loneliness. After my men fell, people dubbed me ‘Owain of the Sorrows.’ I peered out the window at deepening night.
“I should have told the bastard to shove it, but they’d have clamped me in irons, and my men would have charged up that damned mountain anyway. Why was it fair that I lived and all I commanded die?”
“Poor Rose. Haven’t you figured it out,” Cunedda asked, tucking some frizzy hair stand behind my ear, and stroking my face.
“Didn't Captain Owain die too? You were livid when I didn’t kill you. But how could I? How do you kill a dead man?”
What?
“Look within yourself and tell me what you see.”
I stilled my mind as I'd learned in the garden, and looked to my landscape. I saw a field, of gray ashes and burnt tree stumps, like the meadow on Caldonia. Yet, among the ash, I saw green growth - wildflowers, reaching to the sky.
“I …I’m not he.”
“Do you regret this?” Cunedda's voice was halting, and Neasa held her breath.
I was alive where I'd been dead.
I couldn’t explain it, much less express it. But regret it?
No. I didn't. Not one bit.
I tried to be dramatic, to make ‘em sweat a little, but I couldn’t control my traitorous lips; a goofy smile bloomed on my face.
“Thank you for the gift of life, Cunedda. I don’t deserve it, but I’d kick your ass if you tried to take it back.”
An awkward moment happened when they lunged to hug me, and bumped each other. I laughed, and wrapped an arm around each. When they pulled away, their eyes were wet. Mine too.
“This makes what we ask that much harder,” Cunedda said. “Ah irony. Now that you love life again, we ask you to step in harm’s way.”
“Ma'am?”
“Last midsummer's eve, Lilly was helping a mother in labor when the woman started gushing blood. To save her, Lilly raced to the woods, and transformed Panax into Panacea. Amangons came and demanded the herb. When she refused, he attacked and cast a killing spell. My counter spell just sustains her; she lingers between life and death, slipping away day by day.”
I'd never heard the tale in full. “And the mother?”
“Died,” was Neasa's choked answer. “As did her babe.”
How many sins had this parasite committed? Lilly, my men, and legions of others he’d robbed of life. When would it stop?
“You said when I came here, I was to serve as justice. Why?”
“In a vision, Selene told me you could bring justice to King Amangons.”
“How?”
“He must have Panacea every year. If he is denied it, he fades to nothingness.”
“So ban any sister from working the transformation.” An efficient solution. I still had my soldier thinking moments.
“If the transformation doesn't happen here, it does elsewhere; that’s the way it,” Cunedda said, shaking her head. “We can’t rely on chance. You've been trained as Lilly; the garden comes alive for you as it did for her, I've seen it! You can transform Panax into Panacea on midsummer's eve.”
“Which is tomorrow,” Neasa added. “We want you to try.”
“And if I could...” My thoughts speeded as I grasped it, “…he would come?”
“A fly to honey,” Neasa said, showing teeth. “And we'll be waiting.”
“You set a trap!”
Cunedda was sad when she replied,
“With you, as bait.”
He might be anywhere, my former king, using dark magics to scry the place of transformation, from Panax to Panacea.
Was he over the rise to my left, or there, in the shadows of the grove ahead?
I hadn't the luxury of fear; my quest was for the one spiny leaf, that, on instant the sun set, could change to a life-giving miracle.
What if I couldn't find it? What if I couldn't change it?
Then Amangons would find it somewhere else, letting him live on and kill again. And again. And again.
Nothing like some pressure, eh?
Cunedda had anointed me with a battery of sacred oils, mumbled at least a dozen incantations over me, and clothed me in a forest green dress, the traditional garb of a Selene priestess called to earth magic.
I figured, 'thanks for compliment', but wished my dress wasn't so short; it just covered the top of my thighs! She said I looked lovely and ought to show the world, but I didn’t see how this had anything to do with the task at hand.
I stilled those thoughts, and opened my heart to the garden as I had learned, letting it guide me where it would.
My feet traveled to wild Elmete’s edge, to a sea of the prickly Panax plants, shimmering in the pink of the sinking sun.
My heart set too, for how I could I find that one leaf in the millions before me?
I knew the answer - I couldn't.
I threw myself to the ground, touching my face to soil.
“Selene! I can't do this without you! Help me!”
A sudden breeze kissed my face, and I turned with it...
…to see a nearby fluttering leaf, catching the last ray of the midsummer sun.
Holding my breath, I plucked it, and as I cradled it in my palm, it …it…
Goddess! My body was fire!
Sparks jolted in me through me, connecting me to that which I held, so that I changed it, fiber by fiber, green to silver, green to silver, green to silver...
Selene had led me to this moment; as I had been dead when I came to the Her garden, now my body thrummed life.
I had no words.
I held the pulsing silver to the sky in thanks.
…then a man's voice spoke, ripping me from rapture.
“Ah, fair maid, what healing solace have you found for me?”
My father told me bedtime stories, when our hearth fire turned to embers. I loved the scary ones best; I made him tell the Headless Rider, Agraea's Bloody Bones, and the Hookman of Hariel at least a million times.
My favorite -because it was true- was his yarn about a trip he took, to Faylyn Island, the northern most of the Anatol Isles. He and his mates were hunting Anatol Red Bear, prized for their soft pelts, and stumbled into a Nglal nest.
When a half a dozen man-eating serpents sprang from the nest, Papa knew he was a goner, because the Nglals started their death dance.
Flee, when you see that, run as fast as your legs will carry, for a Nglal seduces you with his eyes, drawing you to him for the fatal bite.
Papa said he wanted to run, but those amber slitted eyes beguiled him and -with grin on face- he crawled to his doom. Lucky for Papa he was a slow crawler, for six of his pals beat him to the serpents, and well, Papa lived to tell the tale. Every time he told it, I shivered to my toes.
Looking at King Amangons, I knew how Papa felt that day.
A mist swirled about him, making it seem like he’d stepped from a cloud. His robe shimmered gold, opening at his chest, to show a sculpted chest and abs that looked like they’d been fashioned by the gods .
Did I just think that? What’s wrong with me?
My eyes roamed an angular face that lacked a single blemish, halting at his eyes.
Oh, those eyes! Black pools of sadness, they begged, the cried:
I suffer so. Help me!
I wanted to! Goddess I did, for he was the sun!
How could anything so beautiful be evil? Didn't he, he over all others, deserve the miraculous herb?
I started to fall to my knees and crawl to his feet, to offer it to this god.
Then I remembered-
…my dead comrades,
…Cunedda's grief,
…Lilly,
-and his glamour smoke vanished.
“No.” My voice was a little squeak.
“What?”
He was more surprised than angered; I imagine he'd never heard that word in his court.
“No!” My vocal chords were looser now. “The Goddess' gift is not for you; not this year, not ever, O king.”
His eyes turned amber, slitted. “What is it about you Selene bitches that makes you immune to me? You’ve plagued me too long.”
The mist behind him evaporated, to show his battle ready Black Brigade.
“Here’s what happens next if you don’t give me the Panacea, little slut. My men will take it from you, and burn your miserable Order to the ground. Never fear; I am merciful; I’ll spare you. You’ll have the honor of serving as the Brigade's permanent whore. Unless you give it to me.”
“Now.”
There was a flaw in the plan.
A pretty big one, really. Cunedda, Neasa and the Selene guard had to stay back, lest the warlock sense the trap. So, I was to run when he came, drawing him to them.
I wasn't sure I could outrun the Black Brigade in my old male form at the peak of my training. I didn't stand a chance now. We were doomed.
“Never fear, captain, we stand ready to engage the enemy.”
I jumped at the whisper to my right. Standing beside me, was a heavyset fellow with cheerful face. A face I knew too well.
“Lieutenant Oisán! You ...you can't be here because-”
“We await your orders sir!”
I turned to my left, and saw another I thought never to see again; wiry Fergus with his ever-sardonic grin.
“Fergus! How are you ...you died that day on Caledonia, that day we-”
“Beggin' you pardon sir, but you should know by now we’d follow you to hell if you ask us to,” a voice behind me said. I knew by its lilt that square-jawed, by-the-book Sergeant Theron had just weighed in. Behind him I sensed them all, the rest of my Gwenal Brigade.
“Though I must confess, following you in your current form, and in your cute little dress, is much more enjoyable than it used to be.”
That would be Fergus speaking, of course.
My eyes blurred. How could this be? “I led you to your deaths, I’m to blame for-”
“-At the risk of being insubordinate, sir,” Theron said, “the only one who blamed you for our deaths was you. We know how you tried to save us, and we know the real enemy is before us. Sir.”
“I won't stand here forever while you mumble to yourself, girl,” Amangons hissed, his men growing restless. “Bring me the cure, or watch your sisters die.”
I didn't understand that. “What does he mean about my ...mumbling?”
“You alone can see us, Captain,” Lieutenant Oisán answered. “May I suggest a tactical course of action?”
“Of-of course.” I had been the strategist for the brigade, and Lieutenant Oisán its tactician. So it was natural that he would offer one, except that this was all too weird!
“We’ll engage the Brigade, while you retreat to the Selenes' position with all deliberate speed.”
“What?”
“Lords, Lieutenant, death hasn’t improved your communication skills,” Fergus said. “What he meant to say was, we'll distract 'em, and you run like hell.”
“But …what will happen to you? I can't just leave you to suffer all over again and-”
“Captain Rose,” Fergus said, “perhaps that pretty head of yours has been in the sun a bit too much? We’re already dead! Amangons can’t harm us anymore.”
“But you can give us peace, sir,” Theron added. “We've come back to help you with this. Deny the bastard the miracle you hold in your hand. Send him to the grave, and then we'll rest at last.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks. “But ...I ...you're my men and ...you know how I feel about ...I'd die for you if I could. I wanted to die with you and-”
“-We love you too, sir” Oisán said. “But you’re alive; you’ve a chance for a wonderful life, and so stop blubbering and live it! Now give the order, sir.”
I did.
Then I ran like hell.
My short legs pumped as fast as they could —fear’s a powerful fuel- but still, when the shrieks started, I turned to see.
My men were visible now, at least their skeleton bodies and glowing eyes ...hence the blood curdling screams.
Woo-hoo! They were mopping up the vaunted Black Brigade!
My grin faded when I saw Amangons thread through the skirmish by floating over it and flying after me, his black robe trailing like a dragon’s tail. A handful of the Black Brigade had also broken free, and charged.
Shit! Though I didn't think it possible, I ran faster.
My finish line was Lilly's dais, where Cunedda, Neasa, and the Selene guard waited. I swear with each step I took, the Malignance that was the king drew closer.
“Did you think some dancing bones could stop me, girl,” he called. “I am death. Look on me and despair.”
No thank you.
I didn't remember wandering so far! My chest was flame, and darkness crept to the edges of my sight.
So easy, it would be easy to yield.
I didn't. I couldn't, for that would mean he wins and life loses. It was impossible, but from a place I never knew existed, I drew energy and ran faster.
Still Corruption drew closer, laughing.
I couldn't keep this up; will or no, I’d collapse soon. Where was Cunedda?
Then, I saw her, robed in purple, standing tall in front of Lilly's dais. Beside her stood Neasa and her troops, looking grimmer than they had that first day.
With my last speck of energy, I dove, scraping to a stop at Cunedda's feet.
“Well done, Rose,” Cunedda said. “Now hurry behind so we can welcome the king.”
On hands and knees, I scrambled behind their line, and grabbed Lilly's dais for support.
“Greetings, High Priestess, on this mid-summer's eve. Your whelp has something that’s mine. Let’s be reasonable. Give it to me, and bloodshed will be avoided.”
“How polite you are, O king. Yet last year you were not so civil, when you attacked my daughter and cast her soul to night.”
“She refused to give me my due, as has the one cowering behind you. Do not provoke a repeat performance. Give me the Panacea, and, perhaps, I’ll restore your daughter.”
“My daughter was alone then; now you face the Selene Order. I think, you haven't the strength to take it from us. I think, this is your last day, O king.”
Amangons turned to face his dozen remaining men. “Take it from them. If they resist, kill them.”
His men charged, but so did Neasa’s warriors, and soon steel clanged in the dusk. The Brigade was better trained, but Neasa had the numbers, and her troops were fresh and motivated. They screamed like banshees. If Amangons thought he could overpower, he was mistaken.
He whirled then, with arms raised. From his hands, a jagged fire arced at Cunedda. She’d be roasted alive, I was sure, for nothing could withstand the hell he unleashed.
Majestic! I was wrong, thank the Goddess. Cunedda was majestic, arms raised, wand in hand, eyes sparkling. His firestorm met a blue wall that sparked as the flames hit it, but did not give way.
“Impressive. You have the strongest sorgente power in a mortal that I've met. Yet, is it enough to stop a god?”
Even the battle between the Selene Guard and the Brigade halted to watch the fireworks display - Amangon's red fury against Cunedda's calm blue.
Inch by inch, I saw red gain, drawing closer to Cunedda. He was too strong!
Cunedda didn’t seem concerned. Indeed, she wore the broadest smile on her face, as if she knew some amusing secret.
“What are you laughing at, witch? You are losing! Yield. Or die.”
“I think, you can't last much longer, Worm. For, as you spit fire, you burn the last of your life energy. Unless you eat the Panacea, you will dissolve.”
Then she spoke to me. “Destroy it, Rose. Let him know despair.”
Destroy the Panacea? How in hell do I do that? A little warning about this might have helped! I had no idea what to do, so, I ...popped it in my mouth ...and chewed.
“Nooooo! I'll skin you all,” Amangons shrieked, and his fire wavered. We'd struck a nerve.
As the Panacea energy sizzled in my mouth, I had the weirdest, strangest notion. I don't know where it came from, Selene I imagine, because it was just that crazy.
I scrabbled onto Lilly's dais, and knelt over her, putting my lips to hers. As I kissed her, I forced the Panacea juice into her mouth, and…
…her eyes opened. They met mine. She smiled.
Gods, she was gorgeous.
At his wounded scream I turned, to see that the king’s fire was no more. His body seemed ...less solid? Transparent?
“You bitches! I'll raze this place! I'll salt the earth so nothing grows here for a thousand years!”
How shrill he sounded, how hollow.
“I think not, King Pestilence,” Neasa said through her hawk grin. She had disposed of the Brigade's captain, and strode to the king.
She was too professional to threaten or gloat. Neasa raised her sword, and with one slice, thwacked off his head. It bounced along like a bloody ball until it came to rest on its side.
“You have won nothing, Cunedda.”
Freaking hell! The Plague lived on! From the ground, the severed head droned:
“I curse you. Hear the death curse of Amangons the god, and trem-”
Before it could finish, the earth cracked open, the head fell in, and soil filled the hole.
And a bush of thorns sprang up.
When they saw Amangons' end, his men dropped their swords and ran. All that remained in Selene's Garden were squealing women.
Cunedda couldn't form words, so great was her joy in holding her daughter again. Neasa too, draped her arms around Lilly and cried.
All did. A hundred Selenes gathered in the garden to celebrate their risen sister.
That’s not all — for something caught my eye at the edge of Elmete. I looked, and saw the shades of my men, Fergus, Oisán, Theron, all of them. Goddess, they looked happy! They waved and smiled as they dissolved into forest shadows. Well, all were doing that except Fergus. I think, he was catcall whistling at me before he faded.
Joy. Laughter. Weeping. Elation. Pretty words, but empty. They don't show the emotions unleashed by the defeat of the king and the return of Lilly.
Now, were I to gather the flowers that represented those emotions, what an rainbow of colors you'd see!
I didn’t do that. I didn’t fall to squealing either, because suddenly...
...I felt out of place.
It makes no sense I would; I was loved by the Selenes and I loved them in return. But I’m done here, yes? My purpose here is finished, now my 'curse' had been fulfilled?
Let’s do a quick inventory: deliver justice to the evil king, check. Help my men to rest in peace, check. Bring Lilly back to life, bonus.
Lilly!
I couldn’t get her out of my mind, the look of her eyes as they locked into mine. But she didn’t love me, how could she? She didn’t even know me. No doubt, she had some lord waiting in a nearby castle.
With her alive, the surrogate wasn’t needed. I wasn’t needed. After all, this is her garden, not mine. I’m an extra wheel. My work is done.
I gazed to the wild woods of Elmete. Maybe I could follow my men and fade to nothing?
I should go.
When I raised a foot, I found I couldn’t move. Vines had twined around my ankles, holding me in place. When I reached to untangle them, the vines curled around my wrists, pulling me to the ground.
Crap! What was going on now?
“WHERE do you think you’re going?”
Lilly White stood before me, hand on hip and eyebrow raised.
“I, uh, *ahem* thought with you well, I wasn't needed and I'd ...um, go.”
“-Obviously, this garden doesn't want you to leave.”
“The garden ...wants me?”
“Silly Rose! It is our garden, ours together.”
“How could you think of leaving us,” Cunedda asked. For a moment, she looked ...angrier than when she’d faced Amangons.
Then she kissed my cheek, pulled my frizzy red hair off my face to tuck it behind my ears, and looked at me with twinkling eyes.
“You are rooted in my heart, my Rose. At last I’m happy at Lilly’s return, and you’d throw me back to sadness at your going?”
“No ma’am, I’m sorry I ...didn’t think ...I mean-”
“Commander.” She turned to Neasa. “How shall we respond to little Rose's temerity?”
“I’ve a mind to take her over my knee and...” The tall warrior faced the throng. “Selene women! Speak your hearts, what think we of Rose?”
They answered as one. “She is our sister!”
“What say you to the will of your sisters, daughter,” Neasa cooed in my ear.
“I…” It was hard to speak, with that lump in my throat. “I’ll stay, I guess.”
“You guess?” Lilly asked, her voice turning high. “You damn well better! All those days where your words alone talked me back from the dry roads, and you were going to slink into the night?”
“Well I…”
“And that kiss! I mean, how often does a gal get awakened back to life by the magical kiss of a gorgeous charming prince! And you weren't going to let me return the favor?”
“I, um, don't think the 'prince' title applies any mmm-”
She silenced me, with the wettest best kiss I'd ever had. So good, that when she stopped, I was panting.
“So you know, I’ve got a thing for redheads. Your place is here! With me!”
“I’m …I’m home?”
“Of course you are, love,” Lilly said, “how could think otherwise?”
“I don’t know …it’s just…” I sighed. “I’m so used to being Owain of the Sorrows, I mean …it’s been winter for me for so damned long.”
She wrapped me in her arms and kissed me again.
“Yeah, me too. But accept it, herb sister, this is our happy ending. It’s basic. Gardening 101.”
Through my tears, I kissed her back. She’s right - love, belonging, and happiness have come, and I’d just have to deal with it.
For it’s always so. After winter…
…comes spring.
Anahita’s Kiss
Author:
Caution:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Once upon a time, long long ago, one of Nathan d'Anahita's ancestors managed to piss off the goddess Anahita. Never a good thing. This particular ancestor was a queen, so the goddess was royally po'd - even worse. During a brutal famine, said queen hoarded her grain instead of sharing with her people. Legions died. In her wrath, Anahita cursed the queen, and her issue, to serve humanity for eternity. Voila! The magical wish granting djinna! This was academic to Nathan, as the curse only affected d'Anahita females.
But wait ...there’s a loophole...
Anahita's Kiss
by Armond
March 4th 5:45pm Bud’s Burgers
“I didn't know you had that in you.”
“Hmm? Had what in me?”
C.f.
“Cancer may be chewing away at his bones, but ya know what? I think it may have already eaten your soul.”
“Wait, what!?”
“How else do you explain your cold-blooded attitude?”
Nathan bit back a laugh. If she only knew how ironic that is; if she only knew about my family. Cuz the D’anahita’s are –literally- hardwired for the opposite.
“Now wait one damn minute, Rach,” he said, raising his hands in a ‘don’t shoot’ gesture. “I know how big your heart is, how desperately you want to ease his suffering. But, trust me on this, he’s not right for you. I wouldn't say he's milking his illness…”
but he is, Nathan’s mind chimed in.
“…but I feel like he's using it to pry you from me.”
‘He’ is Jacob, who has advanced bone cancer, and was in the thick of aggressive radiation therapy.
And there lay the problem - Rachel was compassionate to a fault. Nathan loved her for it, but it worried him too. The thing was, Nathan was just as caring. He’d fallen for Rachel so hard she was a gash in his heart. No, he didn’t want to do syrupy crap, like climb mountains and shout her name. Or scribble their names on hundreds of pieces of paper, stuff them in glass bottles, and throw them to the sea. Because, wasn’t that littering? But if doing those things let him keep Rachel, well, dammit, he might even endure them.
He had no idea what to do when his rival asked his lover to help him die. And he was slowly but surely losing her. Maybe he already had.
"Pry me from you? I've never heard such egotistical, self-centered shit-” She shook her head and looked down, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Do I even know you?”
“This is coming out all wrong.” Nathan gave an exasperated sigh. “I care about Jacob, I really do, I-”
When he saw the arctic frost in her eyes, his mouth snapped shut before it could do any more damage, making a soft *pop* it closed so fast.
“-I don't know what to say.” Her jaw stiffened. “Other than, it’s time for us to step back, and-"
“-Heya boys and girls! Why the long faces?”
Zazu, Nathan’s twin sister, and at that moment the cavalry, had arrived at ‘Bud’s Burgers. As always when she did, the room brightened, and heads turned.
It floored Nathan to see the pure wattage she brought to a room. Her full name was unpronounceable: Azara Zuleika D’anahita, meaning, brilliant red beauty of the goddess Anahita, or as close as ancient Persian translates into 21st century English.
The women of the D’anahita clan were blessed with otherworld beauty, Zazu especially so. Her looks were as wondrous as her name, exotic olive skin, crimson silky hair and always dressed in red. Today she sparkled in a bright red mini dress.
Though he shared his twin’s surname, that's as exotic as Nathan got. Not that he was jealous, no no no, there were a thousand reasons not to be. For instance, he remembered how much it sucked in their school years for Zazu to suffer an annual name mangling with each grade. This was by far the least Zazu and the D’anahita women suffered; Nathan thanked the stars each day he didn’t share the curse.
Nathan thought his looks were as ordinary as his first name, and found it amusing how no one ever mistook Zazu for his sister, much less a twin. He hoped Rachel found him handsome, she’d said as much in the better days of their relationship, but he wasn’t sure whether that was objective assessment or politeness. He was, by his own reckoning, a brown haired, tall-ish, athletic-ish, twenty five year old American male.
How was it he had fair skin and his twin was creamy Mediterranean brown? Genetically possible, true, but the real reason, was the D’anahita curse.
“Nathan! Your sister asked you something.”
“Hmm? Sorry, I zoned.” Nathan scooched over in the booth, making room for Zazu. “What's the question?”
“She wants to know why we’re so grim,” Rachel said, and turned to Zazu. “We were talking about Jacob."
Zazu's squeezed Nathan’s hand under the table when she scooted next to him. "Your friend who's dying? So sad."
"At least someone in your family cares," Rachel said. Nathan could almost see venom dripping from her voice.
“Burger time, Sis,” Nathan said too brightly, hoping Bud's famous Texas Burger would bail him out of the hole he was in. A tall order for a greasy spoon, but in Bud’s defense, their burgers were magical. “Your timing’s perfect; we haven’t ordered yet.”
They’d agreed to meet at ‘Bud’s’ before catching a movie. Robert, Zazu’s hubby and lawyer extraordinaire, would be joining them at the show, if he could finish an uber important contract he was drafting for a client.
Bud’s Burgers was rated the fifth best burger joint in the state; their burgers were so sloppy drippin’ wonderful, Nathan couldn’t begin to fathom how amazing the other four places must be.
“I’m starved! Gonna order fries and onion rings,” Zazu said, in her perky voice, and Nathan felt her tug in his mind. When he glanced in his twins hazel eyes, her sympathy radiated to him. Their twin connection was especially strong; she knew what had happened between he and Rachel, and he felt her support flowing to him. Their connection was amped even more because he was a D’anahita male. Though they couldn’t talk mind-to-mind the way the women could, D’anahita men were far more empathic than normal males. Which was why Nathan was in grad school, studying counseling psychology. It’s where his gifts lay.
And Rachel thinks I’m heartless, he thought. Could this get any worse?
“I’m bailing on the movie; I’ll go check on Jacob,” Rachel said, then glared at Nathan. “I’ll call you when I ready to talk to you again.”
It could! She ended it. Nathan felt it more surely than anything he’d felt in his life. Game over.
Nathan's mind thrashed wildly for something, anything, to say to make her stay, to not let this be their last date, when fate pitched a screwball: Bud’s front window exploded inward, and shards of glass ripped through the place like bullets, followed by the biggest ball of fire Nathan had ever seen.
The first wave of searing flames vaporized the patrons nearest the front. Lucky them. Those in the middle were roasted more slowly, and their screams were hideous.
Nathan wasn't sure what sparked the inferno, maybe a natural gas leak or a fuel truck explosion? After the first explosion, a river of fire flowed in; its flames and choking smoke trapping them in their booth.
Zazu grabbed Rachel’s hand and yelled. “Repeat after me: ‘by immaculate Anahita, I wish this fire had never happened.' ”
“God!” Rachel screamed, “don’t let me die! Not like this!”
Rachel’s mindless fear washed over Nathan. Everyone’s did, and between that, the gas smell gas, and burning flesh, he was close to hurling.
-SMACK-
Zazu slapped Rachel’s face, hard.
“DO IT! ‘By immaculate Anahita, I wish this fire had never happened.’”
Something in Zazu’s eyes must have been scarier than the fire, because Rachel managed to speak.
“By immaculate …Anahita, I wish … this had never been.”
“Close enough. Your wish is granted”
Zazu closed her eyes, glowed red for an instant, and the fire…
…vanished.
One moment blinding smoke, metal melting heat and death, the next - the ordinary bustle of a greasy burger joint. Even the people who'd been crispy-crittered were alive and happily eating their arteries closed again, with no recollection of their previous gruesome demise.
“What …just …happened?”
“Nothing, actually.” Zazu gave a sly grin. “You wished it away.”
Maybe Rachel thought the creature from Alien had sprung from Zazu's body; her expression sure looked that way. He could relate; he'd lived with his sister's awesome powers all his life and they still freaked him out.
“Yeah, I see that, goddammit! How?”
Queasiness hit Nathan when Zazu shrugged. There were all kinds of plausible lies she could spin, like it was a hallucination, or food poisoning, or mass hypnosis, but nooooo! his gut told him Zazu was going with the truth.
“Short answer? I'm a Djinna.”
Zazu rolled her eyes at Rachel's blank response. “You know, genie? I Dream of? Rub the lamp, make a wish, and all that?”
“A Genie. As in …magic?”
“Dead on, kiddo. This all started long ago-”
“In a galaxy far far away,” Nathan added.
“So not helping, Nate. Not a faraway galaxy, but ancient Persia. Where-”
“-Magic?”
“Well, yes, sweetie. You see, an ancestor of ours, a queen, managed to piss off the goddess Anahita. During a famine, our ancient granny hoarded her grain for herself instead of sharing. Tons of people died. As punishment, the goddess cursed her, and her issue, to serve humanity for eternity. TA DA! Genies! All women of our family have this power and duty.”
“That’s it?” Rachel had moved past shock from the near death experience, leap-frogging denial into anger. “That …lame story…is all you got to explain what happened …er, didn't happen?”
“True, I could have given you the long version, which would have taken days. But hey, I'm starving here.”
On cue, Dora, their waitress, she whose hair moments before had been lit like a roman candle, arrived with platters of steaming hot burgers, spicy fries, and ice cold cokes, causing Rachel to quiet. The look plastered on her face, though, showed she thought she'd learned the greatest secret of the world. Maybe she had.
“So, all I have to do is wish, and I can have anything?”
"Uh -uh," Zazu, answered, fries dangling from her mouth. “Rules. Lots of 'em. Per said pissed off goddess, wishes must be for the good of mankind. And …only one per customer.”
Which, Nathan knew, was a half-truth and a bald-faced lie. Even the D’anahita males knew this part of Wish Granting 101. Wishes didn't have to be macroscopically utilitarian. They could be for the good of mankind, sure, but they could also be for the good of a single man, or woman, for that matter.
And there was no wish limit.
There were lots of other rules that went into the family wish granting business; the physical laws of the universe still applied, well, mostly, so wishes drew from what was at hand. And if a wish were to upset -drum roll- The Balance…
-Nathan don't know what this meant, since the d'Anahita women were maddeningly cryptic when they spoke of it-
…then the wish wasn't granted.
When Zazu slammed her burger down fast, Nathan figured she wanted to bolt before Rachel tested the wish limit lie. After Zazu scarfed her last fry, she gave Nathan a peck on the cheek and bolted, leaving her brother with the tab. To this day, he couldn't figure out why the djinna -all powerful gals that they were- never seemed to carry cash.
“Lot to take in,” Rachel whispered.
Understatement much? Nathan thought. She'd almost been crisped in a fiery holocaust, seen the whole disaster poofed away by magic, and learned real, live genies existed. Understatement of the ages. Naturally, Nathan tried to answer in kind.
“Yup.”
“Do I ...do I need to keep this a secret?”
“Yes. You mustn't breathe a word to another soul,” he said, trying to sound ominous. “This knowledge …in the wrong hands…”
She gave a solemn head bob in response.
Thing was, Nathan wasn't worried about Rachel letting out the secret. First, she was someone he trusted - he wouldn't fall in love with someone with a dark or shallow nature. Also, if she accidentally did, who'd believe her? Genies? C'mon, this is the 21st century. Finally, Zazu would fix this herself. She'd have her master wish Rachel to forget most of it.
Sadly, that part of the djinna legends was true. If the right ancient words are said, a djinna is claimed and bound to the speaker for a set number of years. She's also compelled to call that person ‘master’ or ‘mistress'. Nathan’s djinna cousins wouldn’t speak of it, but to him it seemed like slavery, pure and simple, which he figured fit the whole ‘curse’ thing. Their ancestor queen must have really really pissed Anahita off.
Zazu had already been claimed, but she had been proactive about it, not risking anything to chance. When she and Robert fell in love, he had no idea what she was. After they were married and she knew she could trust him, she eased him into the genie club, and had him 'claim' her, so she wasn't in danger of a stranger doing it. Nathan was certain when she saw Robert later, she'd ask him to make a wish, and this episode would fade in Rachel’s brain. Not completely; that was another rule and a big one, a wish once made can never be forgotten by the wisher.
“Nate,” Rachel said, her blue eyes sparking with an idea, "I'm willing to give you another chance."
His heart skipped. Before things went thermal, he'd physically felt hers shutter to him. Maybe it was the near death thing, he didn’t know, but he now hoped her heart was opening again. Yet he also felt she wasn’t quite being honest.
“Come with me to see Jacob; we'll sit with him together.”
Nathan cared for the dying man, even if he was stealing his love. Jacob was an ordinary guy, like Nathan, in the prime of life; to see the man left bald and emaciated from the therapy, well, he was Nathan's worst enemy, and Nathan would never have wished it on him. More than that, Nathan's D’anahita empathetic nature made him feel for Jacob's suffering in ways Rachel couldn’t fathom. Thousands of years of D’anahitas serving mankind had worked its way into their DNA.
Still, he did not like Jacob; there was a pettiness in his character that bugged Nathan. Maybe Jacob's cancer struggle masked the flaw, or maybe in a weird way, it was a cure for it …Nathan didn't know. Yet, however much Jacob troubled him, the thought of losing Rachel scared him more. So…
“Yes, Rach, I’d love to go with you to see him.”
He flashed a smile, tried his hardest to make it genuine. But Nathan sensed some other motive in Rachel's request; a purpose? A plan?
March 4th 8:02pm St. Joseph’s Hospital
He tried probing her agenda on the drive to the hospital. Something definitely was cooking in her pretty head, more than a bedside visit with Jacob. At first, fate smiled on Nathan, because when they arrived, they found him asleep.
“We should come back later,” he whispered.
“Nathan, after Zazu wished death and doom away, she said something interesting….”
Uh oh. Here it comes.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul; looking into Rachel's gorgeous blue green peeps, at that moment? Her soul looked …nuts. Who'd blame her with all she'd seen? He glanced at the nurses' station two doors down.
“Ssshhh! We shouldn't talk about this in public.”
Rachel ignored him. “She said the goddess cursed the queen and all her issue.”
“Yeah, you got an issue with that?”
Nathan's jokes were famously bad. His friends spent an inordinate of time explaining they weren't jokes at all, what with their complete absence of humor.
“When my father's estate was distributed,” Rachel plowed ahead, “our probate lawyer explained we were my father's “issue,” my brother and me. So if you are the 'issue' of the goddess like Zazu, doesn’t that mean you have magic, too?”
He frowned; he didn't like where this was headed. “You've seen my crappy Toyota; does that look like the ride of an all-powerful being? Anahita is the goddess of djinnas, female genies. Men of my family don't-”
“-but still, she said issue…”
…yeah, that part always bothers me too, Nathan thought.
“…so what would it hurt to test it?”
“Sorry? I don't understand-”
He saw her gaze turn to Jacob's room again and finally figured it out. “That's why you brought me? To …to …wish him …to be cured?”
Stupid stupid stupid! He wanted to scream, his heart ached so much. She doesn’t care about me at all. She only wants to use me to cure him.
She must have read the anguish on his face because her next words were rushed.
“I'm so sorry, but I love Jacob and not you, and I can't stand to see him fade away like this-”
“-I don't have Zazu's power. Let's get her to come here and do this, okay?”
“You're here now. What would it hurt to try? Worst case, I look stupid. By immaculate-”
“Stop!!!!!!” Alarm bells clanged in his head and his spine tingled with strange energy.
“Don’t! Please!! I have a terrible feeling about this. If there's one thing I know about Anahita's curse, it's to never ever screw with-”
“-You want him to die!”
“I do NOT! I said we should get Zazu to come here, so it's clear I don't want that, but I’m begging, DON’T SAY THOSE WORDS!”
Rachel saw Nathan’s eyes widening, the sheer terror in them, and it gave her pause. But only for a moment. Dammit, she knew she was onto something. She knew Nathan could save Jacob’s life. And she wanted it saved, at all costs. She pushed ahead.
“-You're better than this! I’ll make you better! By immaculate Anahita, I wish Jacob was cured of cancer.”
Energy tornadoed around him, freezing him, sealing his lips…
Then, he vanished.....
Incense.
Sandalwood incense smoke made everything hazy, but he could make out a throne, of white marble.
His eyes focused and he saw he stood before a woman wrapped in a rainbow of silks, with the midnight hair and even blacker eyes. She leaned forward, smiling at Nathan with dark rose lips.
Anahita!
Her presence was...
Words didn't to describe Her. Even so, his brain tried: if he were teleported to the sun... and the instant before he was vaporized by the heat or exploded from the vacuum of space or whatever would happen, the nano-instant before, the sight of that vast bright ball of energy would swallow his mind.
…that was what it was like standing before Anahita.
He threw himself to the floor.
You come at last, my love.
Her words were chiming bells.
She touched a hand to Nathan's head, and his body …rippled.
I claim you, and name you Azura Parvaneh d’Anahita
Cupping Azura's chin in her hands, she kissed her lips. Bright blue divine energy sizzled into the new djinna.
Take flight little butterfly. Fulfill your destiny. Bring succor to man.
Then …she …was back…
...looking into Rachel's eyes, which were wider than half-dollars coins.
“Z-zazu?”
Azura looked up at Rachel, where the instant before Nathan had been looking down.
“W-where's Nathan?”
“Your wish is granted.”
Electric blue bolts poured from Azura into Jacob's room. His body bucked and spasmed, and Azura felt, knew, he was whole. Cured. She banished cancer from his body.
Too much! Everything was spinning; she had to get out, run, anywhere. Azura sprinted down the corridor, dodging startled nurses and doctors.
“Zazu, wait! Where’s Nathan?”
Rachel's words hit her as she hit the stairwell door. She flew down the stairs; she might have, actually, for all she was aware in her panic. She burst out the front door into open air and heaved a breath.
She couldn't out run Rachel's question: Where was Nathan? And who was she?
'Azura Parvaneh d'Anahita,' her mind chimed.
She gulped, and then …looked down.
Oh God
Small delicate feet filled soft silver sandals. Olive brown toes peaked up, wearing silver toe rings. Silver bracelets jangled on smooth brown ankles. Her pants were of royal blue silk, flaring at the ankles. They flattened at the crotch, and she knew exactly what that meant.
Jesus! How could this happen? No! Not Jesus… Anahita!
Her wrists were circled by silver bracelets, and for a top, she wore a form fitting long sleeve blue silk halter. The form it fit? Full rounded breasts. She couldn't begin to bring herself to touch them. Feeling hair trailing down her back, she grabbed a handful; it was silky black with a midnight blue sheen and oh-so-soft. For a moment, the new genie was paralyzed, unable to process what she’d become.
Azura was snapped from her stupor by a cry in her mind.
*Where will it come from? Help me help me help me! I'm a dead man.*
Voices? I'm hearing voices? Azura thought. Fucking great, now I'm insane.
Ahead, a gray-haired newspaper stand man stared into his change box. Somehow she instantly knew he had gambling debts of exactly $5,000, and if he didn't pay soon, he would be visited by two violent 'loan processors.'
How? How do I know this?
His fear pulled her; her legs walking on their own, until she stood before him. Power sizzled in her, and the words flowed from her lips.
Your wish is granted
Eeep! That’s my voice? It’s as high pitched as Zazu’s!
“Wish? What, are you, my harem girl of luck?” The man grinned, even leered, but his voice was sad and defeated.
“Er, could be. On my way to a, um …music video shoot,” Azura ad libbed, as she realized how out of place she looked in genie silks on the busy downtown street. “The $5000? I'd play the lotto if I were you.”
“How did you know...” his eyes widened, but then he shrugged. “Why the hell not? If you're as lucky as you are beautiful, I'll win it all.”
Beautiful?
“Just play it, you'll see,” Azura squeaked.
She hurried away, afraid of what else he might ask for. More voices cawed in her head, from cabbies in a nearby cab line, sitting in quiet loneliness, missing families, loved ones, overseas, far away.
A middle-aged policewoman at the corner, longed for her dead husband so much, the wanting of it crushed the new djinna heart.
The blank-faced people hurrying along the sidewalk, all had souls overflowing with such yearnings. The longer she wandered, the more lost she became, drifting, in a sea of hopes and dreams, wishes and despair, until…
*Overwhelming are the desires of man.*
Azura felt her before she saw her; coming through the pedestrian traffic, dressed in djinna red silks to match Azura's blue.
“Zazu!”
She grabbed her sister like she was a life preserver, and maybe she was, for she was the only thing Azura recognized in a world turned upside down.
“I love you too, Sister.” Zazu laughed softly. “Now if you'll let me breathe...”
Azura eased up on the hug but didn’t let go. “Zazu …I'm …this is all …help me!”
Zazu shook her head. “No help for it, Azura, you are djinna.”
“You … know what she called me?”
“All the djinnas felt your arrival, but I knew first; I'm your twin, you know. Now your identical one.”
She stepped away from Azura and bowed. “I greet thee, Azura Parvaneh D'anahita. Welcome to the Order of Djinna.”
Azura bowed an automatic response. “I thank thee, Azara Zuleika D'anahita, blessed be our Holy Order.”
Zazu giggled at Azura's confusion. “There's a lot of default programming in you. Need to learn it fast. First, let's get us both into something less conspicuous.”
Her sister scrunched her eyebrows, and fabric rustled on Azura's body. She looked down to see she now wore a turquoise mini dress and matching leather thong sandals. When she looked up, she saw Zazu in a similar red outfit.
“I …you …this …”
“Sshhh. You're in shock. Let’s get you home so you can center. You're so out of balance now you're liable to grant anything, even give that girl over there what she's wishing for.”
Azura turned to see an adorable little girl, polka-dot dress, white tights and all, swinging in a playground park across the street. What she was wishing for echoed in Azura's head; her prayer to her father for a gift that, in her childhood innocence, she longed for with all her being. Power stirred in Azura again.
“Azura NO! You will NOT make a pony appear! Do you have any idea how much trouble that would cause? TAXI!”
Zazu dragged Azura into a yellow cab, and gave the driver Nathan's old apartment address. Then she turned to Azura.
*Azura. Your entire existence has been changed. I'm here for you, Sister. So. Breath. In, out, in out.*
“Wish it away for me. Make me into Nathan again-”
*Mind speak it, sweetie. We so don't want our driver figuring out he has two wish granting genies as fares.*
“Shit, do you think he-”
Zazu clamped her hand over Azura's mouth.*Shhh!*
So Azura tried to think her thoughts to Zazu instead. *AM I DOING THIS RIGHT?*
*ACK!* Zazu answered, her hands going to her ears. *Too loud!*
*S-sorry. Better?*
*Much. I'm sorry, but as desperately as I want to, I can't grant your wish. Our wish power only applies to humans, and you are no longer that.*
...not ...human? That was too much for Azura to take in; her mind dulled and slowed, and she turned, to simply gaze at gray buildings whizzing by the cab. Azura wanted to close her eyes, curl into a ball, and sleep, forever…
*Sweetie, don't blank on me. This incredible thing has happened to you, changing you completely. You're in denial. I know you, 'Nathan'. You need to start dealing, or your emotions will overwhelm you. That would be terrible for you and …disastrous for the people around you, to have to a depressed or angry djinna on their hands.*
Denial? DENIAL?? Azura's mind s-c-r-e-a-m-e-d.
Zazu's hands shot to her temples and she winced.
*Zazu? What's wrong?*
As her brother, Nathan had been overly protective of his sister, even though she was the miraculous and powerful magical creature. The impulse hadn’t changed now she was Azura.
*When you scream like that, it hurts, Sis*
*Oh no!* Tears welled in Azura'a eyes again. *I'm so sorry!!*
*S'okay.* Zazu tried to give her sister a comforting smile. She'd have to be careful how she handled this. Nathan had always been emotional, and as Azura, those emotions were running wild. How on earth should she handle this? Her only plan -if she could call it that- was to keep Azura's mind engaged until she could get her to bottle.
*Talk to me, Azura, what are you thinking?*
*Why?*
*Because it's important your mind keeps working so we can get through-*
*-No! Why did this happen to me?*
*Oh!* Zazu squeezed Azura's hand. *This happens to the men in our family every so many generations. When a human makes a completely selfless wish around a D'anahita male, and uses the formal command, his nature will throw him to the goddess to be transformed so he may grant the wish.*
*That's crazy! Why would Anahita do that? Why not have male genies too instead of changing men to women?*
Zazu shrugged. That was but one of the thousands of questions the D'anahita djinnas had compiled for their goddess since Anahita uttered her curse. *Ask her the next time you see her.*
Anger flared in Azura's eyes. *Wait! If it's happened before, why didn't you warn me? I could have been on guard or-*
*-It's cause it's so rare that I didn't warn you. I didn't want you becoming paranoid, fearing at any moment, someone might wish you into the xx club.*
Zazu paused a moment, considering. *Rachel! She …wished for Jacob to be cured?*
When Azura nodded, Zazu's eyes grew wet. *And I gave her the formal command words. Crap, I'm so sorry! I meant to mind wipe the words from her memory, but one of Robert's client's had an emergency and I haven't had a chance to have him wish it.*
*She wished it because she loves Jacob, and not me. She told me so…*
It crashed down on her then: Rachel was gone. Forever. Now, she'd be imprisoned in this strange ultra-feminine bod and forced to be slave to the wishes of everyone around her. Suddenly Azura didn't want to talk or think about anything. Her plan was to get back to her place, grab her bottle of Jack Daniels and drink herself to oblivion. She started sobbing.
“Shhh,” she said, wrapping her arms around her sister and stroking her hair. “Driver? We're here; it's the building to the left ahead.”
Zazu handed the driver a wad of cash and hauled her crying sister out of the cab. She drug her up the stairs to her apartment.
*You’ve got to learn to shield and filter, otherwise, you're a pinball bouncing from wish bumper to wish bumper, and shredding The Balance where you go. It will be like that scene from Bruce Almighty, where everyone wins the lottery.*
When she knew they were alone, Zazu stopped Azura at the second floor stairwell and wiped away her tears.
"H'okay. On that subject, let’s see how bad the damage is. Please please tell me you haven’t already made someone a lottery winner."
Azura's voice answered in a soft hiccupy sniffles. “There was the grey-haired man...”
"Crap," Zazu said. "And you made him the Powerball winner, of course?"
"No, $5,000."
"That’s it?"
When Azura gave a jerky nod, Zazu let out her breath. "Okay, not so bad. As far as The Balance goes, that’s a rounding error."
That sparked Azura's mind a little. "You mean you can say no to a wish? You have a choice about what you fulfill? Then why didn’t you wish the fire away earlier instead of giving the wish words to Rachel? I’m sure everybody in the room was wishing for that."
“We Azura, we,” Zazu corrected, and shook her head. "That's another huge rule. As powerful as we are, we can't wish anything. Sure, no one there wanted to die. But the wish must be clearly expressed. Their minds were thinking things like ‘nooooooooooooo’ or ‘arrrrggggghhhhhhh’. Hard to make a wish out of that. That’s why I told Rachel the formal command; I needed it to be exactly right so I could undo everything."
Zazu saw Azura’s eyes zone out, her transition shock reasserting. She tugged Azura again to get her feet moving up the last flight.
"C’mon, sweetie, don’t go catatonic. Keep thinking; we will get through this together. Ask another question. I'll answer all the ones you asked me when we were kids that I couldn't."
But thinking was so hard! Growing up, she had hundreds of questions for her magical sis, but now she could get those answers, she was having trouble framing even one. It felt her mind was filled with goo.
"If we …if we can choose to act, on the desires of people around us …why are there even formal trigger words to make us act?"
"Excellent question," Zazu nodded and squeezed Azura's hand. "And, why can we be formally bound as slaves?"
SHIT! I can now be bound to someone as their slave! Azura's mind wailed; she had forgotten that turd blossom.
"It has to do with balances. Everything is balances. You'll learn. We -you included now- have near limitless power, and so the goddess embedded triggers in us as a check on that power; the whole master thing is a lesson in humility. Do you see?"
They stood at last in front of her apartment door. Azura blinked at it, because it was now painted ...blue.
“No I don’t see …anything, except a freakish blue door! Fuck it. I wanna go inside, pull on some sweats, and drink myself to death. But…”
Another thought hit her. “Like I have something that would fit me now?”
She looked down at her new body, shaking her head yet again in disbelief.
“It’s loony to think anything I have would come close to fitting; a dress shirt would come down to my knees.”
“Oh, you’re in for a surprise there, Sis,” Zazu said. “I betcha all your clothes fit perfectly.”
“How in hell could that be? Look at me! I’m a freakin’ dwarf!”
“Goddess, you’re turning into a drama queen. You are NOT a dwarf, you’re the exact size as me. Fyi, a dwarf, is someone 4 feet 10 or less. We are a good 4 inches over that.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic! I can still stuff a dwarf in a pickup game. But for the other 99% of the population-”
“Shut up! Walk inside and prepare to be amazed.”
When Azura reached for her door knob, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
“Uh, Zazu …I got nothing here …no ID, no wallet …no keys…”
“Listen.” Zazu put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze. “Change your thinking from this moment on. You are a magical being now; your place is tuned to you. Say ‘open door’ and it will.”
"What? No magic words, like ‘abracadabra’, or ‘open sesame.’"
Zazu giggled. “Remember our cousin Aria?”
Azura nodded, remembering she was the d’Anahita who lived in Milan.
“She has her doors keyed to open when she belches or farts.”
“You’re kidding, right? Prissy Aria?” She shook her head and spoke:
“Open”
Blue.
Someone took an airbrush and sprayed everything in my apartment blue. And ... I like it.
“Zazu, why is everything ...blue?”
“It's you. ‘Azura’ means blue. And 'Parvaneh' means butterfly.”
Azura wandered about her place touching this chair or that pillow. She knew it was all her 'stuff', she ‘felt’ it, but ...she had never seen any of it before in her life.
*Is there nothing left of Nathan? Nothing?*
“Only your soul. Which, when it comes down to it, is all that matters.”
When Zazu saw the only response she would get from Azura was another numbed look, she figured she had done all she could for now. She took Azura by the hand.
“Come, Sis, time to go to bottle.”
She led her to an alcove in a wall that held a plain blue glass bottle. Azura's hands were drawn to it as iron to magnet. Her default programming came online at contact.
“Um ...Zazu? This isn't a bottle at all. It's calling to me. It is a ...portal. To...to ...where, or what?”
“We wear this form,” Zazu, motioned to her body, “but it is not our only form. Anahita has made us elemental, so we may work directly with the energy of the cosmos. We are energy, and it is our nature to dance with the fires of creation.”
“I... don't... understand...”
“I know. I haven’t mortal words to describe it. Go to bottle. You know how.”
“Will it ...help me accept all this, make this-”
“-better? Yes, some.” Zazu nodded her head. “I know it sucks, but your problems -a different body, a strange new life, all of it- will be waiting when you return. But while you are there, there is no here. While you are there, you will know what you truly are now. While you are there …again, humans don't have words for it. Go. Feel. Be.”
“I'm not sure I know how to...” Azura’s eyes suddenly blinked wide in amazement. “...ooooooooooh!”
Zazu wondered what she looked like when she phased through her bottle to her other form. As Azura's body spin to blue smoke, she admitted it was one of the most amazing sights she'd seen.
“Joyous dancing, Sister.”
Then Zazu turned glistening eyes to the heavens. “She suffers greatly, Anahita. Why did you have to take her? And, if you did, would it have killed you to have a plan to ease her transition?”
My blue butterfly will do great service to mankind. And I did have a plan, my cherished daughter. That plan is you. Ease her suffering.
“I was afraid you'd say that.”
March 5th 5:53am Zazu and Robert’s home
“Good morning, Master, how may I serve you?”
Robert looked up bleary-eyed from his 200 page draft appellate brief to see Zazu kneeling before him. Because of a “snag” in finalizing a purchase and sale agreement, he had not arrived home from the firm until late last night. The “snag” also bumped his other work, so he had been up since 4am this morning proofing the brief he intended to finish yesterday. In another hour or so, he would shower and head into his office.
“Arise, Azara Zuleika D’anahita, I have no needs or wishes…”
Robert had long ago stopped reacting to the ‘I Dream Of Jeanie’ line his wife greeted him with in the morning. He’d pleaded with her, ordered her and even wished her to stop, yet every morning she greeted him this way. She had, each time, explained this was hard-wired into all djinnas who were ‘owned’ by a master or mistress, and finally, he gave up and simply accepted it.
“…other than to finish and file this hideous brief. I would wish for you to finish it, but I need to understand it so I can argue it at the hearing.”
“Well, you could simply wish for the judge to rule in your favor and-”
“-No, no, no,” Robert frowned. “We’ve been over this. Tempting as that is, it wouldn’t be right. I think my client’s the good guy and the defendant’s a lying sack of shit, but I always think that. And it ain’t always so. We’ve got to let the system decide what justice is, and not my all-powerful wife.”
Zazu rose smiling, and burrowed next to her husband on their coach. She never once would have considered granting such a wish. But she loved hearing him deny the offer. This was a big reason why she had fallen for him; his honesty and integrity. Well, that, and his dark curly hair made him oh so hot. She leaned in and kissed him. Her need to touch him was greater than most days, because her heart was heavy with worry for Azura.
“Hmm,” he smiled back. I think I misspoke. I did need that.”
“It’s a standing unspoken wish of yours, Master. One I am happy to fulfill again and again.”
“Enough ‘master’ crap, Zazu! Tell me about your day went yesterday; you were already snoring in bed when I got home. What miracles did you perform?”
How does a supernatural being describe to a mortal the list of impossibilities she had made possible? Zazu learned early in their marriage it was not possible to describe to her human husband the powers she worked with. So, she had stopped telling him the details, unless it involved children. Under his hard litigator veneer beat a heart that turned to putty when he heard of children’s lives being enriched. She knew how desperately Robert wanted children. And maybe soon he would have that wish granted too...
“I do NOT snore Robert. As far as miracles, well, the usual, but…”
“Uh-oh. The 'but' means you need me to fix something with a formal wish.” Robert set down his brief and turned his full attention to his wife. He took this part of his ‘master’ duties very seriously. “What do you need me to wish for?”
“It has to do with Rachel Lassa and-”
“-Azura’s friend? Aww, honey, I completely forgot our movie date! I’m so sorry about …wait. What happened?”
Zazu sighed, running a nervous hand through her red hair. This was what would be hardest for her new sister. No one, outside of the djinnas, -and Rachel herself, as the wish maker- would remember Nathan. It was as if he never existed. He and Robert had been close friends, especially bonding over their mutual hatred of Duke basketball.
“A freak explosion at Bud’s killed everyone in it, or would have, if I hadn’t undone it. But to do that, I had to give Rachel the formal wish words, and now I need to make her forget those words.”
“That’s so wonderful you were there to save everyone, Zazu. “ Robert smiled proudly. “Wait! Why did you have do it and not Azura? Rachel is her friend.”
“And that is the second formal wish.” Rachel gnawed on a finger. “I need you to wish for Rachel to convince herself it Azura or I granted her wish and not Nathan.”
Zazu knew a wish for Rachel to completely forget about the wish Nathan/Azura granted wouldn’t work, for Anahita's rules state a wish request formally made and granted must be remembered by the wisher. Zazu suspected it was a karma thing, a soul taking responsibility for what it wished.
“I’m lost,” Robert said. “Who’s Nathan?”
“Remember the weird quirk I told you about the d’Anahita males?”
“Babe, what part of the d’Anahita family isn’t a weird quirk? But…” Robert’s forehead scrunched. “…Hold on. The fine print codicile that in certain circumstances d’Anahita guys can be drafted into djinnas service? Um ...so this Nathan-”
“-was my twin brother, but is now my twin sister.”
“You had a twin brother???” Robert rocked back into the coach. On an intellectual level, he understood his wife’s ‘work’ sometimes altered reality and memories –so incredible for him to imagine still even after two years of marriage to a djinna- but he hated when his were altered. He felt he was robbed of something precious.
“I wish I had my memories of him back.”
Zazu nodded. “Your wish is granted.”
Images from a now alternate reality streamed into his mind, of a brown-haired young man in a tuxedo; one of his groomsmen at his wedding. Of skiing last Christmas at Copper Mountain, where he, Zazu and Nathan chose poorly in deciding to try the Resolution Bowl, and he wished them back from a snow drift to a bar for whiskey shots. He laughed out loud at the memory of Nathan’s birthday gift to him last year – a Coach K voodoo doll.
Robert blinked at Zazu. “Wow! How did this happen?”
“Rachel took Nathan to the hospital to see Jacob, and used the formal wish command to cure him. The combination of such a powerfully felt wish with the formal command was enough to send Nathan to Anahita, and be transformed into Azura.”
“Poor Nathan! How's he taking it?”
“She is not taking it well at all. I've sent her to bottle. The fires will center her and…”
Zazu frowned. She had tried many times to put into words for her lover what happened when she traveled through her portal, and each time she failed. She grabbed her husband’s hands.
“...Nathan really loved Rachel, and she dumped him. Adjusting for her will be hard enough; I need to make sure Azura’s new life isn’t further scrambled by having her pining for a relationship that's over. I need you to wish for Rachel to forget the formal wish command, and to wish for her to think either Azura or I cured Jacob.”
Zazu bit her lower lip; she figured this was the best she could do, since the wish itself would always be embedded in Rachel's mind. As would her memory of Nathan. No way around that. However, at this moment, only the d’Anahita family, Robert and Rachel would even remember Nathan. And once Rachel discovered no one else on earth had ever heard Nathan d’Anahita, Zazu hoped Rachel would, over time, convince herself Nathan didn't exist. She felt it best for Rachel and Azura to go their separate ways.
The plan could work, if …Rachel’s memories of Nathan weren’t emotionally strong ones. Which, surely they weren’t, since she chose Jacob over Nathan, right?
Rachel and Jacob could move forward together, and with Rachel truly out of her life, Azura could make a fresh start. She could begin her wondrous new existence without baggage. She would be hurting, Zazu knew exactly how much; sometimes it seemed they shared the same soul, they were so close. She would be there for Azura, and Robert would too.
“Of course I’ll do it. Poor guy.”
Robert stilled, framing the wording of the wish in his mind. This was another reason Zazu felt blessed to have Robert as her ‘master’; his legalese wish wording was always precise.
“Blessed Djinna Azara Zuleika D’anahita, by immaculate Anahita, I wish the following…”
March 5th 7:45am Azura's Apartment
Azura blinked at herself in the mirror.
“So strange to be back in this body”
Well, so strange to be back in any body
She had moments before re-materialized from blue smoke to physical form. She ran her fingers down her face, the solidness of it feeling unfamiliar and even unnatural for a moment as she fully integrated again to the mortal world.
Azura let out a long sigh. She knew now. Knew what her sister had meant when she asked her to change her back. 'No help for it, Azura, you are djinna.'
Having danced with pure energy, having become pure energy, she knew down to her last electron, she was djinna.
That didn't make what she was about to do any easier.
Let's get this over with.
Azura had re-materialized wearing blue sweats. She peeled them off and dropped them to her bathroom floor. And really looked into her mirror at herself -her mortal body- for the first time since her change.
First, she ran her fingers along her cheeks. Nothing startling here. Except for her dark hair, she looked exactly like Zazu, and that was a face she had grown up with.
Then she let her hands travel lightly down her neck and sternum until they hovered over her nipples. Do I dip a toe in the cold water and ease in, or jump in?
Azura closed her hands around her breasts and squeezed. And massaged. And pinched her nipples. And cupped and bounced them.
Her breathing sped up slightly as she felt how sensitive they were, watching with a curious awe as her nipples hardened, or goosebumps formed on her large deep brown areolas.
These are gonna take some getting used to. She shook her head; 'these' would never do. She forced herself to name them.
“Breasts, um, tits ...boobies, and um, melons ...'the girls'.”
Kay, I think I got it, Azura thought with a snicker
She's known her sister's breasts trended to the 'busty' side, but Azura hadn't a clue what her actual size was.
Note to self, ask sister how big her boobies are.
Taking a deep breath, she moved on, sliding her fingers lightly down her abs and to her pelvis.
My skin is so smooth!
And, she admitted to herself, her new olive complexion was beautiful. Biting her lower lip she explored lower.
“This is so different,” Azura whispered, with an edge of panic creeping into her voice.
As Nathan, she had given her partners the occasional foreplay licking, so she wasn't unfamiliar with her new genitals, but now they were hers, she was lost in trying to understand what she had. She understood the easy things, sure, she knew her clitoris; rubbing made her give a soft gasp as pleasure tingles traveled up her nerves.
And she knew sort of what her labia was, both inner and outer. But past that, she simply didn't understand this new plumbing or that now, she held inside her things like ovaries and a uterus, which, if certain other things happened, would let a baby form and grow in her.
She burst into tears.
“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” she sobbed. “Rachel was going to be the mom and I was going to be the dad...”
As Nathan, she had planned their whole future together, at least, before Rachel drifted away to Jacob. After Nathan finished grad school they were to marry and start a family. With her kind heart, Azura figured Rachel would make about the best mother in the world. And she'd imagined playing basketball in their drive way with a son or daughter -it didn't matter which- playing each night until the sun went down. She knew it didn't actually work that way, but it's what she fantasized anyway.
Not gonna happen now. Not now. Not ever. Why did you do it, Rachel?
March 5th 8:30am Interstate 95
Rachel wanted to slam her iPhone onto her Volvo dashboard. Or at least give it a good spanking. First it weirdly wiped Nathan from her contacts. Then, when she manually dialed his number, she only reached the annoying disconnect/not in service notice.
“Dammit, Nate, where are you?! I am so going to kick your butt for disappearing on me like that.”
Rachel understood why Nathan might want to avoid her -she'd basically ended things with him when she told him she loved Jacob- but this went beyond avoidance. The man had fallen off the face of the earth. Would he have changed his number to stop her from calling? That didn't seem like him, though.
Rachel had dropped Jacob off at his apartment after the hospital released him early this morning –they’d held him overnight to verify there hadn’t been some bizarre instrument failure to cause his test results to show his body to be cancer free- and she was starting to come down off the high of his ‘miracle’.
She'd cried and laughed and cried again –Jacob had too- while the befuddled doctors ran test after test through the night to come up with an explanation. Time and again she almost blurted out what had really happened, but a genie? Who would have believed her?
That was why she needed to talk with Nathan. Because he granted the wish with that magic family blood of his, after she'd figured out he could. Except, wasn't it Zazu that said the wish was granted?
She was so confused, and only Nate could clear it up. And she really wanted to talk with him. Just talk. Because, though it had been only last night since she had seen him, she … missed him.
So. She pointed her car in the direction of his apartment, even braving the I-95 traffic to get there, because if she couldn't call him, she would see him, dammit. She remembered his psychology class didn't start until 10, so he should still be at his place. Rachel veered to the right hand lane to take exit 5; at least it hadn’t vanished.
“Unlike Nate," she muttered, unaware she was talking to herself.
Rachel's mind yet again replayed the previous day, in fast forward speed. Fireball wished, away, magical genies discovered, and cancer cured. She said a strange phrase to wish Jacob healed –for some odd reason, she couldn’t now remember the exact words- Nate vanished, Zazu appeared, wearing a blue skimpy harem girl costume -very weird- and granted her wish. Then the miracle occurred.
“And then things turned strange."
After a moment, Rachel started giggling, because, considering the day she'd just lived? That was as absurd a statement as she had ever made; she had to giggle.
"Fine," she said after the giggle fit passed, "stranger."
First, when she’d mentioned to Jacob that Nathan had been there, he drew a blank, acting like he’d never heard of his rival. She thought he was kidding, but as they talked, she learned he wasn’t – he had absolutely no memory of Nathan.
To make sure she wasn’t crazy, she asked a nurse if she had seen where Nathan had gone, and the woman said she had never seen him. The nurse clearly remembered Rachel coming to the hospital, but with a woman whose description matched Zazu. Then the whispers began in her head: had she dreamed it all?
One voice, a very tiny one, way in the back part of her mind, whispered something had happened to Nate. That she wouldn't be able to see him, ever again. She shook her head hard, trying to dislodge even considering that.
“That's silly, Rachel. He's fine and you will see him in a few minutes.”
Wait! What will I say? He must be so angry with me!
Once Rachel parked, she was halted by the building concierge.
“Here to see Azura?”
“What? Who?” She'd made small talk with this woman dozens of times, when she visited Nathan. What was up now?
“N-no. I’m here to see Nate. Nathan D’anahita.”
“Nathan? He’s a relative of hers?” The middle-aged woman tsked as she buzzed Rachel in.
“Please remind Ms. D’anahita as the lessee, she agreed to give us notice of any long term visitors, even if they are family.”
“Will do,” Rachel said, but thought, this is so weird!
Rachel bounded up the two flights of stairs, to be stopped cold by a …blue door? But this has to be it! It says 220. Why would Nathan redecorate his door? Rachel banged on it. After a minute, the door opened, and Rachel stared down at a petite black-haired woman, dressed in blue sweat pants and sweatshirt.
From her bloodshot eyes, Rachel worried the woman had been crying.
“Zazu? Are you okay?”
Azura gave a jerky ‘no’ head shake and bit her lower lip. “I'm fine. Nothing you need to worry about. And, I’m, you know, Azura, Zazu’s twin. People mistake us for each other all the time.”
“You're-”
Rachel was about to say ‘who?’ but memories flooded her mind, of a close and dear friendship with this young woman. Who, except for black instead of red hair, and blue clothes instead of Zazu’s ever present red, was Zazu’s clone.
“…duh of course you are …we’re best friends, but…”
But …what about Nathan?
She had memories of him, too, dear ones. And somehow, these clashed with her Azura memories.
“A-azura? Where is Nate? I really really need to speak with him.”
About miracles and genies. Wait, was Azura one too? And double wait! Then was she at the hospital and not Zazu? Why is my memory so fuzzy?
Azura looked down at her feet, and when she spoke, Rachel heard pain laced in her soft voice.
“Rach …I'm so sorry, but there is no one here named Nathan.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “This is his place, too, right?” Somehow Rachel had memories of both living here. “I’ve slept here before and… oh. my. god.”
Rachel’s eyes focused on the furnishings, walls and carpeting behind Azura –all blue.
“What’s …happened to Nathan’s stuff, his coach. His-”
“Rach, please, there is no Nathan. And there never will be.” Azura’s lower lip trembled; she was barely holding back the tears. “… can't talk …have to go …um... …to work.”
With that, Azura stepped back and closed the door.
Rachel, stared at the door, open-mouthed, for minutes. Finally, she shook her head and staggered back down the stairs, and out of the building. As she drove to her apartment to crash, she tried a thousand different explanations, but in the end, none made sense.
Instead her mind replayed images, of fireballs, magic, miracles, genies …and of a man who didn’t exist.
Azura leaned her back against her front door, her heart pounding; tears returning to her eyes. She stood there long after Rachel had left. Going to bottle hadn’t dimmed the hurt she felt over losing Rachel. It was as raw and searing as ever.
Zazu was right; 'dancing with the fires' didn’t turn my mortal life dial from ‘suck’ to ‘rock.’
*I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.*
*Eeep! Zazu! You can …read my thoughts when you aren’t here? Can all my sisters?*
*Don’t panic! You don’t have a gaggle of genies permanently lodged in your brain. Only you and I share this long distance link, since we are twins, I think. How was your dancing?*
*It was…*
Azura sighed and smiled.
How could she capture infinity in finite human words? The timeless singularity that encompasses all; waves of creation and destruction forever spinning and whirling. And she was part of it, she was it. How did she explain that?
*...it was…*
*Yeah, I know…* Zazu answered with matching awe. *But now you are back on the mortal plane, and everything is completely strange and on top of that, your heart is breaking, right?*
Azura found herself nodding as if her sister could see her; Zazu had always read her so well. *It hurts so bad! What do I do?*
Zazu had felt the sobs racking her sister’s body all the way across town. She wished she were there to hold her, but that wasn't how it worked. Genies gave wishes, but received none in return.
*Work. Throw yourself into it. Bringing joy to those in pain will ease your pain, Sis, I swear by Anahita it will.*
Yes. Yes! That made sense. As Nathan, she had found solace in helping people through her counseling work. She wasn’t the only one in pain in the world; far from it. There were others –millions and millions of them- who were much worse than she. She would help them, comfort them. But…
*How do I do that, Zazu?* Azura thought, *wander outside like yesterday and start granting away?*
*No. Nothing that random,* her sister answered.*Every morning we humbly beseech Anahita to send us where we are most needed. And she does. You cannot imagine what awaits you. Try it. I've got to do it now, too*
Okay. And how should I do that? Azura thought. Zazu said ‘humbly’ so...
A Persian rug in the middle of her living room called to her, and Azura walked onto, and lowered to her knees. As she did, her clothes shimmered; her sweats were replaced by something far skimpier, her silks. Azura knelt further, prostrating herself, touching her forehead to the rug.
“Blessed Anahita, I beg you, send me forth to do your work.”
And Anahita answered:
Go forth, Azura, ease pain, spread hope, bring peace…
The rug began to pulse and glow with blue energy. It rose from the floor, and with Azura on board …vanished.
7 days before Passover, 30 BCE, noon, Jericho
“A little warning might have been nice, Anahita…”
Azura wandered a dusty street at noon, in a city where every building was made out of sun-dried bricks. She understood whatever language the people here spoke; somehow she was fluent, but it was not English, nor any other language on 21st century earth. If she had to guess, she thought she might be somewhere in ancient Israel.
“…that I could be thrown through time as well as space, hmm?”
Thankfully, her clothes matched those around her; she wore sandals, and long blue tunic. Her long black hair was wrapped in a piece of blue linen cloth. Even though she was fully clothed, she caught many mens' eyes, and hurried past as certain wishes began to form in their minds.
Great, just great. Surely I don’t have to grant lust fantasies, do I, Anahita?
She didn’t know where she was going, but something tugged her, pulled her forward. Finally, she stopped in front of a hut, shabby with crumbling bricks. The tug in her chest drew her to the door.
“Hello?”
She heard rustling and a weak moan. The tug pulled her inside, where she found, curled in the corner, an old man wrapped in rags.
Azura gasped; her new djinna eyes showed his soul fires fading like a flickering ember. Yet it was his desire that had drawn her. He wanted something and it was the wanting that kept him chained to the mortal plane. She knew this, for she now knew how birth and death worked; she had danced with their energies.
“Good father. How may I help you?”
His eyes fluttered open, surprised. “Beautiful girl! Oh! An angel from the Lord. I thought …I would I would die alone.”
“But I am here now, sir. Tell me your name, and how I may serve you.”
He tried to speak, but managed to start a coughing attack so severe and ragged, Azura feared he would not survive. She looked for water, anything, to help him, but the man had nothing.When he stopped hacking, Azura cast a silent thank you to Anahita.
“I am called Hayyim,” he wheezed.
Azura dug through the rags covering him and found his hands. So cold! Even on this warm spring day.
“Where is your family, Hayyim?”
“I’m …all that’s left. My daughter Talya, died years ago, when she and her child died in childbirth, and Shimon, my son, passed in the famine last year. And ...my love …died so many many years ago and…”
Oh Anahita! What can I do for this one? How can I help him?
“…and I wish …though I know it’s not possible …I wish ...I could see my Miriam one more time before I die.”
An image flashed into her mind, of a woman so dear to this man, his desire crossed through time to grab Azura. She knew what to do.
Your wish is granted
Azura felt her face change, and saw the hair peeping from her head cover was blonde. She suspected her voice was different too, an alto instead of her new soft soprano, and with a Jewish lilt. She became his beloved Miriam as she looked on their wedding day, and not the disease riddled corpse he buried.
“Hayyim, why do you lie there? Up love, Tayla and Shimon are waiting.”
“M-miriam?” Hayyim’s eyes went saucer wide. “H-how can this be? Is it ...really you?”
“And who else would it be? Or have you taken up with another? The baker’s daughter Haggith maybe?”
“Haggith? Haggith? With those warts?” Hayyim laughed, rich and loud. “Oh how I’ve missed you, woman!”
“Then come! Let us leave this place of suffering and sorrow. Come, my husband!”
“Yes,” Hayyim smiled, “Yes! Let’s go, my dearest. It is time.”
Azura watched his soul leave…no, soar ...away, from pain and crushing loneliness. Away to rest. And maybe, just maybe, to his loved ones.
Looking into his darkening eyes, Azura knew Hayyim's body was dead, but his face still held the joy of his last happy life moments.
She felt her face ripple to ‘normal’ Azura, if she could call it that. Wetness stung her cheeks; hot tears. She guessed weeping must be a djinna occupational hazard. Her blue carpet appeared on the floor, and she knelt on it, head lowered.
“Anahita …I ...didn’t know it could be like this …I didn’t know…”
You have done so very well, my butterfly, but there are others, so many who need you.
Once again, Azura’s carpet rose with her, and disappeared.
March 5th 5:15pm Jacob’s house
“I still can’t believe you are 100% cancer free," Rachel called from Jacob’s kitchen. "You’re sure you're okay?”
It did happen, right? I wished it, didn't I?
Rachel felt she needed to be around Jacob to prove it. She desperately needed to talk with Nate about everything that happened.
I want to talk to him so badly.
She was busy scrounging for a flower vase. There were plenty of empties to choose from; Rachel was a florist and had over the course of Jacob's illness, brought dozens of flowers in vases to his house. Today, after she slept for 4 or 5 hours, she had driven to her floral shop to put together a bouquet of pink and white alstroemerias for him.
“Yes, for the millionth time, yes,” Jacob huffed, as he walked inside. He'd stepped out to empty his stuffed mailbox. He tossed his keys on his entryway table, shuffled into the living room and kafummphed onto his couch. Within moments, images from the latest NCIS marathon flashed on the flat screen.
When Rachel brought the stunning arrangement into his living room, Jacob suppressed a whiny growl. Rachel heard it, though.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“It’s …they’re so …um …I'm not a big a fan of flowers.”
“Not a big fan of… but I’ve …brought you dozens of bouquets during your illness, and you never complained,” Rachel said. "I thought you liked my arrangements."
“Oh, I do, I do, babe. Sorry. Never mind.”
“No!” Something rubbed wrong here. Rachel slammed the vase on the coffee table, sloshing water drops onto the polished cherrywood surface. “I want to know what you mean.”
“Fine,” Jacob muted the show and turned to her. “I’ll tell you. Over the last months, while I was undergoing the treatments? It seemed like …you wanted me to be sick. You wanted a reason to mother me. I was your good deed, your charity case.”
“WHAT?” Rachel was glad she had no longer held the vase; if she had, she would have dropped it. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
Jacob shrugged, and unmuted the TV.
“That’s it? You dump that on me, and turn back to your stupid show? Nate was right about you.”
“Ahhh, your imaginary friend,” Jacob snickered. “Is he a giant bunny, too? Babe, I think you've spent too much time in my hospital room, and not nearly enough in your own bed. I’m really starting to worry about you. Sleep deprivation can lead to all sorts of hallucinations. ”
“Wait, what? You have this …miracle happen and …and all you do is watch NCIS? Don’t you think your amazing recovery means life has more in store for you than a couch potato career? That you might have a duty to give back some of this life gift you’ve received? You could help other terminally ill people and-”
“-But don’t you get it?" Jacob blinked at his girlfriend. "For the past year, I’ve been living under a death sentence. Now? I want live , okay? L-i-v-e! I've paid my dues. Time to collect some well-earned rewards."
Rachel couldn't believe what she was hearing. So many people would do anything to be blessed with the gift Jacob was given. Now he wanted payback?
Nate would understand, he would know exactly what I meant. Rachel felt her eyes tearing. Except …he doesn’t exist, apparently. But he must! Where are you, Nate?
She had no explanation for his disappearance. It was the damnedest thing. No one remembered him. No one. Except her.
At first she thought it was a vast practical joke, but it quickly became clear something else was going on. Phone number gone from her cell. Zero Nate texts. Nada from him in her email inbox. And his Facebook page was MIA. She even Googled his name, 'Nathan D’anahita', and came up with nothing. How could she call the police with those facts? It was as if he had never lived.
But she knew he had. And she missed him.
Even though she had been ending things with him before ‘the wish’, suddenly, she had this incredible longing to be held in his arms again the way he did before she turned to Jacob.
“Rachel?” Jacob’s voice roused her from the tangent she’d been chasing.
“Yes?”
“We've never known each other outside of our rolls as tragic terminally ill boy, and Mother Teresa girl,” he wouldn't, couldn’t look Rachel in her eyes. "Maybe we should back off, have a time out. Take a break. I’d like to see what it’s like to live life again. I deserve it.”
What?? After all that's happened, he wants a ‘time out?’
Numbed, Rachel didn't speak a word. She grabbed her purse, dug out her keys, and left.
"Finally!" Jacob jumped up from his couch and hurried to his computer to turn it on. After a few moments and mouse clicks he did a fist pump.
"It works!"
The thing was, Jacob had not been asleep when Rachel visited last in the hospital. He'd pretend to be, hoping that if she found him asleep, she wouldn’t stay. His memory was fuzzy on who was first with Rachel, but he clearly remembered her saying 'I wish Jacob was cured of cancer.' And then this hot little thing dressed in a harem girl's outfit said 'your wish is granted.' Blue electric bolts shot from her into him -Ka-wham!- . And then.... cancer gone! By magic. He felt it.
An honest to God wish-granting genie!
The other thing was, he had not stepped out to get the mail a few minutes ago when Rachel was doing her Floral Nightingale thing in his kitchen. Well, he got his mail, yes, but the reason he stepped out was to plant a tracking device on her Volvo. Now he was following her perfectly on his computer. He was betting sooner or later Rachel would lead him to the little wish granter. When she did, he would pay her a nice friendly visit.
"Don't get me wrong, Rachel, I appreciate what you did for me. I really do. I'll thank you by letting you serve me in my harem."
Jacob thought a few moments and then amended his statement.
"Well, as long as you use that mouth of yours for things other than talking."
From the moment he had been magically healed, Jacob had been researching. Planning. In all the genie tales he googled, people always screwed up their wishes. Not him; he was smarter. He knew exactly how he would take control of the sexy genie in blue. Time to collect.
March 5th 5:55 pm Azura’s apartment
Azura blew out a weary sigh as the blue sparkles faded, and she saw her furniture surrounded her again.
“Home again, home again, jiggety jig.”
After her first trip this morning, the rest of her magic carpet ride destinations were in the 21st century timeline. But that didn’t make the wishes asked of her any less difficult to grant. In fact, Hayyim’s was the second easiest wish she granted that day.
The whispers of desire buzzed in Azura’s ears still.
I wish…
She tried as hard as she could to grant as many as she could…
I wish…
But sometimes, she wondered if she did more harm than good…
I wish…
…to be pain free…
This was not a hard wish to grant; she could sense the deformity or disease and remove it. It depressed her, though, to learn how much pain people labored under, and how often this was a wisher’s most ardent desire. Where she struggled was with people who yearned for the removal of their pain, but suffered no physical ailment. How did she grant their wishes?
I wish…
…a child of my own…
She couldn’t conjure a baby from thin air; djinnas were bound by the first law of thermodynamics after all. What she could do was pave the way for the wisher to adopt a child, but …should she? Was the wisher fit to be responsible for another living being?
I wish…
…to find my true love…
Azura could help them find a partner; she was learning loneliness brought people together very often through sheer expediency, but was it love? What did that even mean? And could it change over time? After all, one’s “true love” of today, could be their hated ex tomorrow. What was real love?
“My love for Rachel was.”
Emphasis on ‘was.’ She loves him not me. Hell, she might not even know I exist.
Azura tried not to dwell on it; every time she did, her eyes teared. Since her transformation, wetness came easily to her eyes. So instead, she forced herself to think of the easiest wish she granted today. That brought a smile to her lips.
I wish…
to find my slippers because my feet are cold…
That wish was granted!
Azura heard a knock at her door. A quick glance to her blue wall clock told her it was 6:00 PM.
6:00 o'clock? Already?
The day had flown by, and she tried to remember if she had eaten. She was famished! At last she understood why Zazu shoveled food into her mouth when they ate together. Another knock -louder this time- reminded her someone waited on the other side.
"Er, coming?"
Looking down, she realized she wore her blue silk 'genie' pants, blouse, and assorted silver bracelets on her wrists and ankles. She almost hated to take them off; the rub of the smooth fabric felt good against her olive skin.
Mmmm, I could get used to that, but ...Wait! I can't go to the door like this!
*Relax, djinna noob, it is only I, your beloved sister, bearing sustinence.*
"Zazu!"
Azura scampered to the door. Only after throwing it open did she learn Zazu was not alone. Robert stood behind her, holding two extra-large boxes of pizza in one hand and a six pack in his other.
Yet another problem to deal with. He and Nathan had been close friends, but now she was Azura, was that friendship gone? How would Robert react to her now? Azura’s voice grew timid.
"Robert ...um...hi?"
Azura's eyes did a quick downward sweep, hoping her 'new chest' wasn't too prominent. But no! Her silk blouse highlighted her assets. She felt her cheeks redden.
Zazu let out a snort. "Rookie mistake. Think 'normal' clothes and they change."
When Azura did, her clothes shimmered, and she found she wore a blue sundress that matched Zazu's red.
"Hey! I wanted sweats not a dress!-"
Zazu shoved a stack of magazines into her sister’s arms, recent issues of Elle, Vogue, and other fashion publications.
"W-what are all these?"
“Homework.” Zazu placed a hand on her hip. "Read them, study them, articles yes, but especially the ads. Memorize. Outfits. Heels. Makeup. Hair styles. Everything."
"But why?" Azura pouted.
"Because the sum total of your fashion imagination cannot be a harem silks, a sun dress, and sweats."
"But I don't wanna learn-"
"-Nathan! Focus, bud.” Robert snapped his fingers. “I hold piping hot 23rd Street Pizza that is getting cold and a six of Sam Adams that is warming up. And -since your new job has caused you to develop amnesia- the Duke - NC game started two minutes ago."
"Shit! Duke-NC is on now?" Azura stepped aside and waved her twin sister and brother-in-law in. "I completely forgot ...wait ...you know I was Nathan?"
"Yeah, I know."
Robert followed Zazu in, dropping the pizza boxes on Azura's kitchen countertop. He turned back to face the world’s newest djinna.
"And ...I don't know what to say. Honestly, Azura? 'I'm sorry', is in order, sure, but congratulations may be too, because this amazing thing happened to you. So I don't know what the right words are, other than to say, I'm here for you, whenever you need me."
Azura shot a disbelieving look to her sister, who nodded, smiling. "I was only going to drop in to see how you were. It was Robert who insisted we come bearing gifts and spend the evening with you."
Zazu added through their connection: *and now you know why I love this man so*
Azura’s eyes teared again, but she didn't care. And when Robert pulled her in for a hug, it didn't feel too weird to let out a sigh and lean on him.
When Robert moved to the kitchen to rummage for plates and napkins, Zazu pulled Azura aside.
*So how was it, Sis, your first day as a full-fledged djinna?*
*Amazing. Mind twisting. Heart breaking,* Azura answered. *My first jump sent me back to ancient Israel, or Judea. I'm still not sure-"
*-What?* Zazu interrupted, *You time jumped your first job?*
Azura nodded. *And I assumed the likeness of a dying man's wife ...it was his last wish ...and when he died, he was so happy ...and I ...I ...Zazu I never knew it could...*
She stopped; she was still too close, and couldn't think of Hayyim without weeping from the sorrow and joy of it.
"Oh sweetie," Zazu said, wiping away her sister's tears. "I can’t begin to know how hard being changed the way you were is, but -confession time- selfishly, I'm kinda glad you were, because now I have someone to talk to."
Azura started to get angry at Zazu for what she'd said, but as she thought it through, she realized her sister was telling her something else. She was describing her pain. Azura was almost afraid to ask the next question.
*Zazu? What happened to you today?
*A wish pulled me to Mexico. A mother. Both of her sons were murdered by a drug cartel on the same day, and she wished-*
*-they were still alive,* Azura finished for her.
*And we can't do that-*
*-What did you do?* Azura asked.
*I gave her the ability to relive her memories of her sons anytime she wished, but it wasn't enough.*
Zazu let out a long weary sigh, and whispered. "Mother wishes are the strongest on earth."
Azura didn't know what to say; she leaned to her sister so their foreheads touched, willing comfort to her.
"Hey?" Robert gently called. "There are beers here for you both; you sound like you need them. Or, there will be beers, if Azura will tell me where the bottle opener is. I've looked everywhere for the damned thing; don't make me wish for it."
The djinnas laughed, and moved to the kitchen to help. Soon the three were ensconced on Azura's oversized blue couch. The game blared with Dickie V’s voice, pizza was chewed and beer was guzzled in mass quantities. And while the world was far from right for Azura, at that moment it didn't feel wrong either.
After North Carolina hit another three-pointer, Robert growled. "I despise the Tar Heels almost as much as I loathe Duke. I wish there was a way both teams could lose."
A smile curled on Azura's lip.
"Your wish is-"
"-NO!" Zazu shrieked. "You cannot do that."
"Dammit!" Azura and Robert shouted in unison.
March 6th 2:20am Rachel’s apartment
Rachel stared at her ceiling. And stared. And stared.
She didn't bother turning to look at her clock. It would show 2:23 AM. Exactly three minutes since she last looked. She. could. not. sleep.
“Nothing makes sense.”
It didn't bother her that she was talking to herself. She had been doing that a lot since Jacob's “miracle.”
“Which was followed almost instantly with Jacob's “taking a break”. She made bunny ear quotes in the dark.
That didn't bother her nearly as much as she expected. What did were her last conversations with Nathan, the man who doesn't exist and never will.
Rachel rewound the conversation in her head like an old tape recorder, over and over again. Stop. Rewind. Play:
'I'm so sorry, but .... I love Jacob and not you, and I can't stand to see him fade away like this-'
“Idiot!” Her tears burned hot in her eyes. She smacked her with her palm. Again.
“How could I have been so wrong?”
Bitter irony gnawed away at her, because it was Nathan, not Jacob who faded away... poof.
Rachel shouted a fierce growl at the dark. She would not let their memories fade. The things they’d done. So she listed the things in her head this man who didn't exist had done with her.
He listened.
When she babbled on about how she wanted to do more for the world than earn money, marry and make babies, he didn't roll his eyes or mansplain why that wasn't practical. Nathan listened, and asked questions like, “how would you change the world if you magically could?” They once talked until the sunrise about her ideas for starting a food bank in lower downtown.
He was so inventive.
He would plan their dates days in advance to the last detail. Nathan loved showing and sharing his passions - eclectic art museums, spicy hot Brazilian cafes, everything. He told her he was “an average guy” but thinking back, he was anything but. Never once did she feel their dates were a ploy to get into her panties, but when he finally did, it was sooo deliciously and erotically satisfying.
He was stubborn.
Early in their relationship, Nathan told her he loved her, he felt it. And he never wavered, even when she drifted away to she spend her time helping Jacob through his illness.
“He was dead right about Jacob too.”
Except... there was no Nathan.
“No, dammit no!”
Rachel sprang from her bed, threw on her sweats and running shoes and grabbed her car keys. She didn't care what Azura told her, she was going to the place she knew he had lived, to the place she and Nathan made love. And she was going to get answers.
March 6th 3:58am Azura’s apartment
“Coming.”
Azura padded to the door; some idiot was pounding it like they wanted to knock it down. She wished now she'd gone to bottle instead of going to bed.
“Can't grant my own wishes.”
Azura wondered who would be beating down her door in the middle of the night. She wasn't scared; Anahita had not left her djinnas defenseless. They could use their fullest powers to defend themselves. Azura had only begun to figure out what she was capable of, but what she'd learned scared the piss out of her. She and her sisters were by far the baddest things on the planet. Which didn’t exactly jibe with the high squeak Azura made after she opened the door.
“Rach?”
Rachel pushed past the smaller woman, walking to the overstuffed blue couch and defiantly plopping down.
“We need to talk.”
“It's four in the morning!”
“Answers. Now,” Rachel said, her arms crossed. She laser-locked her eyes on Azura, who had drifted near her. “Where is Nathan?”
Azura bit her lower lip. “I told you, there is no Nathan, Rach-”
“-fucking hell! I am so tired of people telling me that I could-”
“-but it's true…” Azura stammered, “...there is no Nathan.”
“BZZZZZZZ. Wrong answer! Not true!!” Rachel was one click on the anger meter away from going postal. “God how I wish ONE PERSON would tell me what happened to Nathan.”
Power surged in Azure's body, and before she could stop them, the words came out:
“Your wish is granted.”
It had been, what, five minutes? since Azura finished talking and Rachel hadn't uttered a peep. Her mouth just hung open.
"Do you need a drink? Cuz if you wish it I can make it appear."
"Noooooo", Rachel replied.
"Kay, sorry," Azura said, "With your mouth open like that for so long I thought you might be getting dry, or-"
"No! I mean yes, I need a drink really badly right now. I was saying ' noooo' because I'm floored you're Nate, that my wish did this to you."
Azura twirled a strand of her black hair in her fingers. Day two after her transformation and she'd already picked up a nervous tick.
"Um, you actually have to say it as a wish, Rach."
"What?" Rachel blinked several moments before it clicked. "Oh! I wish I had a Vodka tonic, extra strong."
"Your wish is granted."
A highball glass instantly appeared in Azura's hand. When she passed it to Rachel, Rachel's mouth flopped open again.
"Now you must tilt the glass and pour the liquid in," Azura giggled.
Rachel's mouth closed and a smile crept across her face. "You really are Nate, aren't you?"
"Was, Rachel, was” Azura answered, unable to hide her bitterness.
Rachel set her glass down on Azura's blue glass coffee table, jumped up and threw her arms around the smaller woman. Azura didn’t hug her back.
"Can this be reversed?"
"No," was Azura's soft reply,
"What do we do next?"
"We? There is no ‘we’,” Azura said, pulling away. “You broke up with Nathan to be with Jacob. You made the wish that changed me. There can never be an ‘Azura’ and ‘Rachel,’ for obvious reasons. You and Jacob should, ya know, be a couple, get married, have 2.5 kids in your happy ever after.”
“I know how angry you must be with me-” Rachel said, not actually sure how angry Azura was; she couldn’t read the exotic beauty at all. “But I can tell you now ‘Jacob and me’ won’t be happening… ever.”
“Never say never,” Jacob said, as he strolled in from the hallway having caught the last of Rachel's sentence. “If I’m correct in my thinking, in just a few minutes you’ll have a completely different view.”
Both women jumped at the sound of his voice. Rachel moved to confront the man who had walked uninvited into Azura's apartment. She crossed her arms again.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why, following you, of course, to our genie. Can’t believe you’ve been hogging her all to yourself; how selfish."
Rachel’s eyebrow arched; Jacob knew genies were real? She read the look on Jacob’s face and did not like what she saw. “I think you shouldn’t be here.”
“Awww. It hurts me to hear you say things like that. I wish you wouldn't," Jacob said, then smiled, “In fact, I wish you couldn't speak at all."
Your wish is granted
Rachel's mouth clamped shut, and her eyes grew wide in panic when she realized she couldn't open her mouth.
"Excellent!” Jacob's smile quickly dialed to creepy grin when he saw his wish worked. “Now, I wish you would sit on the couch and stay there."
"Your wish is granted"
Rachel struggled and strained, but her legs walked her straight to the couch and dumped her on it.
"Holy shit! You have to grant me anything I want, don't you?"
"Please sir, I beg you,” Azura’s voice sounded scared and helpless. She lowered herself to her knees. "Undue the wishes you made about Rachel."
"Soon, my little genie. But then I will replace them with other better wishes." Jacob ran his eyes over Rachel's body. "Oh, you're pretty, my dear, but I've a few improvements in mind. A couple of enhancements for starters."
The panic in Rachel's eyes turned to fear. Which made Jacob chuckle.
"Don't worry, you'll love them. You won't have a choice," he said, and glanced back at Azura. "Where to begin, where to begin? Oh! I know! Put on that... no wait, must be in the form of a wish, yes? I wish you would wear the sexy outfit you were wearing at the hospital."
Your wish is granted
Azura's cloths rippled in a flash, leaving her in revealing blue silks. Her cheeks reddened as she felt his eyes groping her body, lingering on her breasts.
"Nice!" Jacob said, licking his lips. "Tell me, little genie, do I have any limitations on my wishes?"
"Yes Master.” Azura answered sweetly. “For example, you cannot wish for all the money in the world, because then the world's economy would crash and your money would be worthless."
"Oh," Jacob frowned, "That makes sense. Give me more examples like that. I’m not stupid; I don’t want to mess my wishes up. Which wishes work best?"
"Very wise of you to ask, honored Master. Ones that don't draw attention work best. Wishes for good health, or to be stronger, or irresistible to the other sex, or wishing good health to loved ones, or-"
"-Fuck that, let them get their own genie." Jacob growled. Then he thought a moment. "Wait, I did like some of those."
He looked directly at Azura and gave her a deadly smile. "I wish I was irresistible to women."
Azura gave Jacob a deadly smile right back. Your wish is granted
Blue energy sizzled from her fingers into Jacob; he disappeared, and in his place whined the cutest corgi puppy in the world.
*Wish clean up on isle six*
*Be right there. Robert is finishing his coffee. So it worked?*
*Exactly the way you said it would, Zazu*
*They fall for that every single time. See you in a few.*
"Yip yip yip"
"Hush Jacob," Azura said, scratching the brown and white pup under his chin. She looked over at the still wide-eyed Rachel. "I bet you wish his wishes for you were undone."
After Rachel's eager head bob, Azura said: Your wish is granted
"That miserable piece of shit!" Rachel shouted as she jumped up.
When the pup whimpered, Azura gently held his face in her hands and said in a baby voice: "Who's a cute wittle miserable piece of shit? Who's a cute wittle miserable piece of shit? Jacob is, right wittle puppy?"
"Woof", the pup answered and wagged its tail nub.
"So you have to grant any wish any asshole makes? That's horrible!"
"I'm still so new to this whole thing," Azura's voice trailed off. "But... I do know I can't make a wish that will harm someone. I think I was able to grant his wishes for you because, you probably learned something beneficial."
Anger still fumed in Rachel's eyes. "All I learned is what a horrible person Jacob is."
"Yes, imagine that." Anger flashed in Azura's eyes too.
"What do you mean by that?"
As Azura shook her head and looked away; Rachel was finally starting to understand the depth of Azura's anger.
"Wait! Azura! Nathan! Talk to me. How was I to know my wish would do this? I was wrong, okay? So very wrong. Let’s fix this. I wish you were Nate again. Please come back to me!”
“Doesn’t work that way. I wasn’t lying, Nathan is gone, forever. But hey, you shouldn’t go away empty handed; no one’s a loser when there is a genie around.” She handed Rachel the squirmy corgi. “Enjoy your life together. Make sure he gets his shots. I’d have him spayed too. Just say’in.”
Jacob whimpered and leaped from Rachel’s hands when Azura’s door opened again.
-Heya genies and girls! Erm, and dog. Why the long faces? Evil was defeated, yes?”
The pup bounded over to Zazu and Robert as they entered, greeting them with an adorable 'woof'. Zazu's djinna wrist bangles chimed when she knelt and petted him.
Azura glare turned to smile when she saw her sister and Robert. She stepped in front of Zazu and bowed formally. “I greet thee, Azara Zuleika D'anahita and Robert Edward Thornton, Esquire. Welcome to this djinna’s humble abode.”
Zazu bowed an automatic response. “I thank thee, Azura Parvaneh D'anahita , we are honored to be your guests.” Then she rolled her eyes. "Someone's feeling their djinna oats. You played it like I told you?"
“Oh yeah, it was so cool,” Azura laughed. “I acted all meek and stuff and even threw in your ‘honored Master’ line. The moron ate it up!”
Zazu and Azura broke into an ad hock belly dance, giggling and bumping hips instead of fists.
"*ahem* Much as I hate to interrupt the djinna equivalent of an end zone celebration, can we make this fast?" Robert said picking Jacob up and sitting down on the couch with the licking pooch in his lap. "I'm arguing in front of Judge Malley in a few hours and need to be ready."
"Make what fast?" Rachel said. “…and hello?”
"Oh! Hiya Rach. Sorry to rush. We need to sort Jacob out permanently," Zazu said, as she grabbed a pad and pen off Azura's blue-washed writer's desk. She walked to Robert and exchanged them with him for Jacob.
"And Robert is here because..." Rachel's face conveyed how confused she remained.
"Because he's a professional wish maker; he's the best," Azura said, looking fondly at her brother-in-law.
"It's nice of you to say, Azura, but I'm just okay," Robert said, blushing, but smiling, too.
"Oh no no! No misplaced modesty here, Master,” Zazu said proudly, as she walked behind the couch to rub his shoulders. "He's the best wisher since King Solomon. We all say so."
*Even better when you consider his other assets* Then, with a sly grin, Zazu shared images of Robert with Azura.
Which turned Azura's cheeks bright red *TMI! TMI! Some things can never be unseen!*
*C'mon, you're my sister now. We share these things now. Admit it.*
In spite of her embarrassment, and her completely confused gender orientation, Azura smiled; this was a new level of intimacy she shared with her sister and it warmed her.
*He is rather, erm, endowed. That's just him? Not something wished for?*
*Ha! All Bobby, baby*
"Nate? I mean, A-zura?" Rachel said. "Why are you blushing?"
Robert paused his scribbling to glance at Azura and then at a grinning Zazu. "I suspect our genies are having a private conversation. Girls, please stop, it's rude."
"Yes Master," they answered in stereo.
"I am not your Master, Azura."
"No, but you are my Master-in-law," answered Azura with a giggle.
"Master-in-" Robert shook his head in defeat. "Moving on, I assume none of you wish to see Jacob again once we restore him to human form."
Three heads shook "no" in unison,
"And you don't want him making any further wishes, with any djinna, anywhere."
"You got that right," Rachel answered with heat, as she remembered what he'd wished for, and was going to wish for.
"Nor, do you want any 3rd party making any wishes on his behalf, correct?"
Azura blinked. "No, that would be just as bad. I hadn't even thought about that."
*See what I mean?* Zazu smiled proudly.
*So which is mightier, his pen or his sword?*
It was Zazu's turn to blush. *Now you're getting into the spirit. We are going to have so much fun, sister!*
Azura smiled back, genuinely happy at their closeness. *Yes, we are!*
“So I'm going to construct this like a restraining order, activating certain punishments for Jacob if he contacts any of us, or if he knowingly comes within a hundred yards of us. I'll also build a teleportation trigger if he comes within 50 feet of us, knowingly or not."
All three answered with an awed "wow", the kind people make when they are watching a true artist at work. Robert cleared his throat.
“Blessed Djinna Azara Zuleika D’anahita, by immaculate Anahita, I am going to make a series of following wishes. I wish that you will not implement those wishes, until I wish my last wish, which I shall designate as 'final wish’. Once I wish the final wish, I wish for you to implement all wishes concurrently.”
Your wish is granted
“I know how busy he is,” Azura said, closing the door. “It was great of Robert to take the time this morning to help. That wish was awesome!”
Robert hadn’t actually left by Azura’s front door, but rather had wished himself back to his house so he could get ready for his motion docket appearance in a few hours. But since the day had already seen several people waltzing in, and it was still only 5:15am, Azura wanted to make sure her door was closed and bolted shut.
“Right?” Zazu answered. “He’s made even more amazing ones. He worries for you, sweetie. I couldn’t keep him away.”
“I really need his support now,” Azura said softly as she smiled at Zazu. *And you know how I feel about you.*
“So, um, where does that leave us?” Rachel said, feeling slightly awkward. “So much to take in. I want to try to help you too. We should talk.”
“You know what?” Azura said, crossing her arms. “Let's not.”
Azura walked over to the alcove that held her bottle and nodded to Zazu.
*I’m going to bottle before I ask Anahita to send me out again in a few hours. See you tonight, Sis. Thanks for being there for me*
*Always. Joyous dancing.*
Rachel's eyes widened yet again when Azura's body spun to blue smoke that was sucked into the bottle.
“W-where did she go?” Rachel looked into the now empty bottle and then around it too. “Why did she leave me like that? Is she hiding from me? Why?”
“Hiding from you?” Zazu laughed. “Honey, not only has Azura left the building, she's left this entire plane of existence. If you haven't already guessed, she's pissed at you something terrible.”
“Yeah, I'm figuring that out. I feel horrible about causing this. But Zazu, be fair, how could I have known any of this would happen? Was it so wrong of me to try to save a man's life?”
“Fair, hm? You want me to be fair? Fine. Let's be fair. Was it fair for you to dump Nathan for Jacob?”
Rachel wincd. “No, I see that clearly now, but Jacob was sick with cancer-”
“-yes, Jacob’s cancer. Was it fair for you to use Nate the way you did? Invite him to the hospital, string him along?” Zazu was just warming up. Her eyes even started to glow red. “You knew he didn't like Jacob. You knew he was desperate not lose you. He went with you even though it was the very last thing he wanted to do. And all along you intended to use him. Was that fair?”
Rachel hung her head. “No, when you put it like that, but I needed him to wish-”
“-mmhm, ‘the wish’. Was it fair, knowing magic existed, because you watched me undo people dying in a fucking fire, and even though Nathan was pleading with you to stop, telling you he was scared something bad would happen, you went ahead and made the wish? Was that fair?”
“No,” Rachel’s voice was soft. “Not fair.”
“Do you have any idea how she is coping? Have you even asked?”
“I didn't have time to... I mean I just learned that...” Rachel couldn't even look at Zazu anymore. She stared at the empty bottle and asked softly. “How is she doing?”
“Do you really want to know? Do you wish it?”
Rachel nodded her head very slowly. “I wish I knew how Azura was doing since ...um...my wish changed her.
Zazu smiled. “So many things to choose from. Should I show you the bittersweet images of my sister coming to terms with her new body? Or maybe I should give you a glimpse into her new life as a genie, struggling so hard to mend the lives of broken and hurting people?”
“I ...I guess so. Yes. Let me see that.”
“I could, yes.” Zazu's smile turned nearly evil. “But you hurt MY brother, and I'm pissed at you too. So I'm going to be cruel and show you... no, let you feel, the way Azura's heart is hurting. After you visited here yesterday, she broke down. Ready for it? This is what she was feeling that moment. Your wish is granted”
The sadness and pain from the tearing of Azura's heart physically hit Rachel as a wave. She clutched her chest as tears instantly filled her eyes. The body racking sob convulsions quickly followed.
Zazu said she would be cruel, but she couldn't keep the act going for long; she was as tender-hearted as Azura and could not bear to watch suffering in others. She waved her hand and the pain disappeared.
“That was only15 seconds of what she is feeling,” Zazu sadly.
“That's horrible! Why? Why does she hurt so much?”
“Don't you know?” Zazu answered, shaking her head. “It's because she loves you so much.”
“Please please please,” Rachel grabbed Zazu's arm, clutching it tight. “What can I do to help her? I'll do anything!”
“What you need to do,” Zazu growled, “Is get the hell out of her life. Let her get over this! The last thing she needs is to have you around her, constantly ripping open her heart over what can't be.”
Rachel's mind was still reeling from the intensity of Azura's pain. Nathan had loved her so much it was staggering. She chose Jacob over him? She was so monumentally angry with herself for screwing that up she wanted to die!
“But … I don't want to be out of her life. Please don't make me! I'll do anything you say.”
Zazu was quiet a long time before she spoke. “I don't want to tell you to do anything. What I will say is this; I will not allow my sister to be hurt anymore. Now, I want you to tell me what you are willing to do to be in her life. Go home, Rachel, and think hard. Have no contact with Azura for one week. After that, we'll talk.”
Rachel frowned. “And what if you don't like what I've come up with?”
“Then, you leave Azura's life, forever. I'll have Robert wish it in the most ironclad of terms. And you know what he can do. That's the deal.”
March 13th 6pm Bud’s Burgers
Rachel didn't like the frown on Zazu's face as she read Rachel's proposal. “Let me explain...”
“I mean, as intriguing as this is, it's only two sentences. You spent a week and this is all you came up with?” Zazu said as she passed the paper to Robert.
“Please, hear me out,” Rachel said. “I came up with much much more. Pages and pages more, volumes even. Of how I would help her and be there for her. Of how much Nathan meant to me, and how deeply and profoundly sorry I am for what happened. But in the end, everything was words. It is so important I show you I’m more than words.”
“But,” Zazu puzzled over what Rachel had given her, “these are just two wishes. Technically, they go together as one-”
“-Which I would like you to grant whether you allow me to be in her life or not.”
Zazu and Robert gave a stunned “oh!” simultaneously, as the implications of what Rachel proposed dawned on them.
“You've fully considered the risks of this is, right,” Robert asked, his voice full of worry. “I don't think there are any guarantees, and the way you've written it is for life. This seems extreme. Potentially, it could be a long life of loneliness.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” Rachel answered, and looked Zazu directly in the eye. “Azura will be as she is for the rest of her life. She wasn't given a choice. I think this only fair.”
“This is for keeps, Rachel,” Zazu reached across their booth table and grabbed Rachel's hands. “Are. You. Sure.”
“I’ve thought about nothing else for seven days,” Rachel answered without hesitation.
“Your wish is granted”
Nothing spectacular happened, no red energy bolts flew from Zazu, but after several moments, Rachel’s face took on a funny look, the kind you get when you figure out what an old saying actually means for the first time.
“Um.... shouldn't you... call her or something to ask her to …come here?”
“Already have, sweetie. She's on her way and will be here in a few.”
“Oh! Be right back,” Rachel said jumping up from the booth seat. “Gotta grab something out of my car.”
“Is this going to turn out alright?” Robert said as he watched Rachel hurry out the door.
“I think so,” Zazu said, as she identically mimicked a tick of Azura’s, absently twirling a crimson strand of her hair.
“But you don’t know so,” Robert asked. Before Zazu could answer, Rachel returned and sat back down, carefully placing a large white cardboard box on the table.
Moments later, Azura arrived.
Zazu smiled. Her sis had been doing her homework; she was wearing a cute blue floral Mallory dress and blue suede ankle boots. She had even applied light blue eye shadow and soft red matte lipstick.
Robert blinked; with his duel memories of Nathan and Azura, he still wasn’t used to seeing an exact copy of his gorgeous lover in blue.
Rachel gave a soft gasp. She was amazed at how the exotic beauty lit up the place, and it didn’t escape her that heads turned and eyes stared when she entered. She was a mix of emotions – fearful about how Azura would react to what she had done, but now there was an itch too, a hunger in her body for the little djinna.
Azura sat next to Rachel and looked at her. “You wanted to see me?” Her voice was cool, but not angry.
“Rachel asked me to grant her this, which I did.” Zazu slid the paper over to Azura.
Azura’s calm quickly evaporated as conflicting feelings raced across her face, shock, anger, and …something that made her eyes glisten.
“This …you did this??? You wished to be …sexually attracted to me, and to not be attracted to any other person in the world?” Azura’s eyes flashed. “So not smart! Arrrghh!!! Do you realize you could have been alone for the rest of your life? So very unsmart.”
“I did this to you. I was unthinking. Uncaring. Everything I said you were? It turns out that was me instead. And I wanted to show you how much I loved you. How much I…” Rachel’s voice trailed off as she considered the way Azura worded her answer. “Wait, you said ‘could have been’. Does that mean, I won’t be?”
Azura looked at her with such longing it made Rachel’s throat tighten. “Stop, don’t answer. I have something for you.”
She carefully opened the white box and lifted a clear glass bowl filled with water. In it floated a single flower with brilliant petals so vibrant they radiated blue.
“I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as this,” Azura whispered in awe. To be honest, she had been jealous of how Rachel spent her time arranging bouquets at her shop to give to Jacob. The compassion she brought in creating them. But in the dozens of arrangements Rachel had given to Jacob, Azura had never seen anything approaching this wondrous jewel. “What is it?”
“An Egyptian blue lotus. I found a place outside of Cairo that grows the most beautiful ones in the world, and I had this air shipped.”
Rachel took Azura’s shaking hands in her own. “For the ancient Egyptians, the lotus signified rebirth. I give this to you, to honor your amazing rebirth, and… I hope … to mark the rebirth of our love… if you’ll forgive me…”
Robert didn’t need to be able to read Azura’s mind to know what was coming. He leaned to Zazu and whispered “I wish I had a box of Kleenex.”
“Your wish is granted” Zazu whispered back, and pushed the box that materialized over to Rachel. Just in time, too.
“Yes yes yes to everything, yes,” Azura said, and burst into tears.
Tears brimmed in Rachel’s eyes too, and she pulled Azura to her chest and held her, stroking her soft raven hair.
Dora, their waitress, chose that moment to arrive and take their order. She gulped when she saw the emotional waterworks happening and started to back away. “Why don’t I give you a few more minutes to- ”
“Wait!” the four of them said in panicked unison. It was an intimate moment, yes, but they weren’t fools; getting a waitress to take an order at Bud’s sometimes took divine intervention. Actually, Robert had wished for that in the past. Twice.
“We know what we want,” Robert said. “Four #1s, make two of those onion rings instead of fries, and for the drinks that come with it, um, cokes for everyone.”
“Coming right up, hun,” Dora said as she scribbled the orders on her pad and retreated so fast it had all of them laughing.
An awkward, but not unpleasant silence fell over the group, with Azura still in Rachel’s arms and Zazu leaning her head on Robert’s shoulder. Robert thought this might be as good a time as any to air some thoughts, and cleared his throat.
“It’s obvious the four of us will be spending a lot of time together. Let me share a few thoughts I’ve been having. Rachel, every day I watch my wife go to the far corners of the world to try to help people, make their lives better, ease their suffering. Every night, she returns weary and worn; she gives it her all. I’m so proud of her, but I also worry for her. Now Azura does this too.”
Rachel nodded, wondering where Robert was going with this. She definitely planned on taking care of her lover, for the rest of her life, but she sensed he was after something more.
“I’ve always wished -no pun intended- I could do more, help her more. An idea I’ve been kicking around has been to start a 501(c)(3) non-profit company, a make-a-wish kinda organization to help terminally ill children, or financially help parents of children with severe illnesses or conditions. Only this time the wishes could be real.”
“Nathan and I used to talk about doing the same sorts of things,” Rachel said, giving Azura’s hand a squeeze. “I really love to help other people, sometimes, erm, to a fault. You know I own a floral shop, right? I’m pretty plugged in to suffering; every day I learn of people who are seriously injured or sick, or families suffering a loss, Robert. ”
“I figured that. So we ought to work together to come up with projects our genies can work on right here at home. Maybe then we can even have lunch with them, once in a while, and…”
*Happy?* Zazu asked her sister as her husband continued to outline his ideas. Zazu knew her lawyer hubby would go on for quite some time, and she thought it an excellent chance to chat with her sister.
*So happy,* Azura answered. Happier than she had ever been.
*Good. You know, at some point you’ll tell her the claiming words.*
*Yes, I will.* Zazu could feel the ‘smile’ of her sister’s soul *Oh, when are you going to tell him?*
*That I’m pregnant?* Zazu asked. *Tonight.*
*He will be over the moon! Take a pic or something, I wanna see the look on his face.*
*Heh! I’ll see what I can do.*
*Zazu? Anahita is pleased with what we are doing do ya think? Cuz it feels right.*
*No one speaks for Anahita but Anahita, so I can’t say for certain, but yes, I bet she is.”
Anahita smiled as she sat upon her marble throne in the divine otherworld. She was very pleased.
Her daughters all worked so hard to ease the suffering of mankind and she loved each dearly. Yet, today’s stress-filled overcrowded mortal world spun more out of control by the day, and even the powerful djinnas were struggling to make a difference.
In fact, her djinnas were ‘going to smoke’ faster now than they ever had. Djinnas were immortal, but not invulnerable. Over time the suffering of mankind wore each down until at some point she would assume her elemental form and never return.
The world’s complex problems grew exponentially, and there were only twelve djinnas in the world now, counting Azura. Azor had ‘gone to smoke’ only a few weeks ago. Maybe a different paradigm was needed; maybe the outreach would be greater if they worked in groups like Rachel and Azura and Azara and Robert were forming. And maybe their support of each other would keep the weariness away longer. Complex problems demanded complex solutions.
Then again, sometimes it’s the simple solutions that still work best to get things moving in the right direction.
Anahita's smile broadened.
Sometimes all that is needed is a well-placed fireball.
end.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
 genie2.PNG | 373.78 KB |
Duty and Destiny
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Taxonomy upgrade extras:
Duty and Destiny - Part 1
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
duty and destiny
by armond
Prince Cadon is the only son to King Rhys, and heir to the Glamorgan throne.
His duty is to marry the Princess Avila of Parasia.
His duty is to unite the kingdoms against the plots and schemes of the King of Arcum to the south.
Seems clear enough.
Yet Selene's destiny for him is far far different.
that the wizard king Urien was once asked by his grandson, Prince Dafyd, what he thought his greatest adventure was; whether it be capturing the Bull of Silver Hollow, the besting of the Underworld Lord Tartaros in the Riddle Game, or his victory over the fell wizard Iacobus. The king pondered a moment, and answered his most exciting adventure was traveling the lands with the prince’s grandmother, he as humble performing magician, and she as his assistant. When the young prince pressed him for the reason this was the legendary king’s greatest exploit, he stated he liked the skimpy outfit his grandmother wore during their shows. To which, the Chronicles say, his sorceress queen Morgana gave a lusty laugh.
1.
“Have enough sense to come in from the cold. You are a prince, for Selene’s sake! No one will think lesser of you for it.”
“No one but me. Best I reckon, we arrive in two hours, ladies. Then I’m buying a round of hot cocoa for every sister who loves me.” Caden said, and lowered the coach window flap.
“Buying us a round, is he? Who is he kidding?” Carme said, wrapping her blanket around her so only her blond head peeped out. “King Coel will have steaming buckets of the stuff waiting when we arrive.”
“Cami, he was joking.” Rhonwen rolled her eyes, and turned to her black-haired sister beside her. “Why do you question him so? Can’t you see he rides outside to gain the respect of his men?”
“If Father had twenty sons, I would say, fine, court the love of his men; esprit de corp and all that,” Gwyneth said. “Be he doesn't; Caden is it, our one and only, and so he hasn't the luxury to risk himself.”
Rhonwen crossed her arms. “But how can they respect him if-”
“-respect? Must they respect him to death?” Gwyneth said. “He proved his worth last spring when an Arcum pike almost spitted him in the boarder skirmishes. Someone needs to tell him to grow up and-”
“-Please don't stir things up, Gweni, we must behave,” Laelia said. “Father said this is more a diplomatic mission than our attending Avila’s ball. King Coel is sure to announce the engagement to Caden soon and-”
Her eyes widened when their coach hit a large ka-thumping boulder.
“Sor-ry princess-es!” the voice of one of the coachmen filtered through the ceiling.
Rhonwen threw open the flap and wriggled through the window, grabbing a roof railing above. The sisters saw her dangling feet and heard a muffled discussion. When she slipped back in, her freckled face was ruddy from cold.
“Whooo Hoooooo! I'm awake now!” Rhonwen said. She looked at the raised-eyebrow expressions of Carme and Laelia. “What? What did I do?”
Gwyneth thumped Rhonwen's arm. “I swear, Roni, you have less sense than Caden! What message was so important that you risked your life?”
“Aww, and I thought you didn't care,” Rhonwen grinned. “I ordered our coachman to stop apologizing for every tiny bump; it's not like he put them there.”
“Hhmmph.” Gwyneth answered. “And while you were pulling your little gymnastic stunt, did you happen to see our brother?”
Rhonwen nodded. “He rides point, of course.”
“Did he at least have his cloak over his head?” Gwyneth said.
When Rhonwen nodded, Gwyneth gave a long sigh.
“Thank Selene for small favors.”
2.
“The Glamorgan retinue,” Faolá¡n said, as he peered out his window. “Peachy.”
“Mew mew”
“I respectfully disagree,” he answered. “Prince Cadon does not look noble. Some familiar you are; whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Meeeeew,” the cat answered.
“Thank you for stating the obvious; you know it just might be possible for you to be on Selene's and my side.”
Faolá¡n lowered his window flap; the flickering candles steadied at the stopping of the breeze. He returned to his seat beside the oaken table stacked high with scrolls. Faolá¡n started to picked one up, but stopped to regard the window once more.
“She deserves better than him. Avila deserves...”
His fingers clasped the metallic collar that circled his neck. Then he slammed a fist on the table.
“Iacobus cannot have protected this against all opening spells. Let's try another.”
Faolá¡n unrolled a scroll, moved his black curly hair from his face, and peered at the parchment.
White sparks crackled from his collar, causing him to yelp, but the metal band remained locked.
After rubbing his neck, Faolá¡n dipped a feather tip in his ink pot and made a mark on a parchment on the table. The paper held many marks.
“Meeew mew.”
“I'm not discouraged, but thanks all the same, Zoe. If he warded my yoke against all release spells in the history of man, then I shall invent one. I will win free of this thralldom.”
3.
“Greetings princesses and sisters to be, the King sends me as emissary to welcome you to Westfalon. Come inside where a roaring fire and hot apple cider await.”
Carme, Laelia, Rhonwen, and then Gwyneth filed out of the coach, each earning a diplomatic hug and kiss from Avila.
“I hope you do better than that for me,” Cadon said, pulling back his hood. “I didn’t ride all this way for a handshake, darlin’.”
“Oh? Does the Prince believe he is entitled to special favors,” Avila said. She grinned, and stuck out her hand.
Cadon grasped it and pulled her close so that their faces touched. “Yes, I do.”
He kissed her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, settling in for a long kiss. Only after several *ahems* from his sisters did he pull back.
“Still chilled, love?” Avila said, panting, “or have I raised your temperature a bit?”
“I bet that’s not all you’ve raised,” Rhonwen said, which earned her a whack on the arm from Carme.
“Roni!” Carme said. “I am so sorry about that, Avila-”
“-You don’t even get the joke,” Rhonwen said.
“Ohh! I do to get it-”
“I’m not sure you will ever ‘get it’ at the rate you are-”
“-I need to tend to Llamrei, Avila,” Cadon said, after giving the princess a light kiss. “I’ll leave you to sort out my sisters.”
“You are leaving me for your horse? Surely one of our capable stable boys can see to her.”
“She is my partner and I leave her care to no other,” Cadon answered, as he walked down the cobblestone street. “Imagine how much care I will shower on you when we are wed.”
“Dream on! And …take a bath, too! I do not find greasy blond hair charming.”
Avila turned back to her princess audience. “Stood up for a horse. Arrggh! Your brother is impossible! I want to smack him, but I suppose I must wait until we are husband and wife for that right.”
“Oh, no need to wait on that,” Rhonwen answered, “We do it all the time, as you do no doubt, with your brothers. You have our permission to bash him whenever you want. Now, did I hear you mention something about hot cider?”
“Ah! My manners desert me; you must all wish to warm and freshen up. Follow me, ladies. And any arrows you can arm me with to use against your cur of a brother would be most appreciated,” Avila said, leading the group through the oaken doors of the Great Hall.
“For instance, was he a bed wetter when young, or did he ever…”
4.
“You keep interesting company, Syner.”
The aged man scrunched his bushy eyebrows and looked up.
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking, sir?”
“Interesting company indeed,” the hooded man continued. “Mister Fermin is rumored to be a spy on the payroll of the King of Arcum. And he came to visit you not two days ago. Why?”
Syner’s hand shook, causing ink to drip on the parchment before him.
“Curse the gods! Hours of work, ruined!” He blotted the ink and placed his quill in an inkjar. “I know of no Fermin who came here, and I have had many customers this week, thank fortune. I am but a humble scribner who takes what work he can get.”
The hooded man leaned close, and pulled back his hood. “Such modesty, Syner. Yet in my circles, you are known as the finest forger in Kotugul.”
“Jaussen! I was going to alert you, I swear, by the-”
Jaussen’s knife slammed through the parchment, pinning it to the scribner’s table.
“Tell me now.”
When Syner saw the set of Jaussen’s face, his pasty complexion turned whiter.
“He had me prepare, sign, and seal a letter from King Rhys to King Gritha. I had no choice, I-”
Jaussen’s voice grew soft, hissing. “And what did this ‘letter’ from Glamorgan’s ruler …say?”
“It proposed an alliance, between Glamorgan and Arcum. Rhys promised to deliver Princess Avila as hostage to King Gritha, in exchange for a mutual defense treaty and increased copper and grain trade.”
“What?! Blast! And he headed north?”
“Mister Fermin does not consult with me about his movements,” Syner answered. “But presumably he is headed to Westfalon, where such a document would be useful, and ...most dangerous.”
As Jaussen paced the scribner’s shop; the only sounds in the room were his boots creaking over wooden planks. Then the dark-eyed man turned back to Syner.
“By Selene you will draft another letter from King Rhys, forger, and this is what it will say…”
End Part 1.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Duty and Destiny - Part 2
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
duty and destiny - part 2
by armond
The young lovers Caden and Avila plan their summer wedding.
But the schemes of King Grithra and Fermin, his agent, are about to bear fruit.
Jaussen uncovers the plot, but can he reach Westfalon in time to save the prince and his sisters?
5.
“Do not think of it so. Instead, know you by your actions, lives are saved, in both kingdoms.”
Still Malavet would not touch the coin sack in front of him. Instead, he stroked his gray beard.
“How, Fermin, does my doing of this ...deception ...make me a hero?”
“Arcum has no love of war,” Fermin said, “for years we suffered the insane wars of King Amangons. Since the glorious day the Selenes destroyed him, all Arcum people view peace as the Goddess' gift.”
“As do the Parasians,” Malavet said. “Still I fail to see how-”
“Two kingdoms, in balance. Arcum, Parasia. Your army is larger, yet with our navy, we match your might. Glamorgan is the key. Their forces are smaller, but whom they align with will triumph. King Grithra cannot allow the Parasian infantry and Glamorgan cavalry to align against him. And so he will attack in a preemptive strike-”
“-if Caden and Avila wed,” Malavet said.
“Exactly,” Fermin said. “King Gritha will treat such a union as a declaration of war on Arcum. We must be the sane ones, you and I. We must avert this crisis.”
Malavet fingered the coin bag. “Which one?”
“Sorry?”
“If I carry this stratagem through, which princess should I suggest to King Coel?”
“The eldest, I suppose, Princess Gwyneth. So you will do it?”
“She will be treated well?”
Fermin smiled. “Well treated indeed, friend, it is in our best interests to do so. She will be hostage in name only; our guest in all other respects. And after living in the rugged Glamorgan highlands, she may even enjoy her seaside stay.”
Malavet picked up the coin bag; weighed it in his palm. “This bribe is heavy.”
“No, not a bribe,” Fermin said. “This plan requires a subtle touch; only you have skill to do it. You hold in your hands Arcum’s peace ransom.”
“I will ...go to the archive room and compare this document to other communications from King Rhys. If the signature is a good enough rendition, then I will seek an audience with the King.
“I can ask no more.” Fermin bowed low.
6.
“And I thought we would place a white gazebo here, with roses wrapping around the pillars. What do you think?”
“I think you are more excited about the wedding, than marrying me,” Caden said.
“A girl dreams of her wedding all her life, dear. It's something...” Avila sighed. “It's something a man cannot understand, so shut up, slap a grin on that handsome face, and suffer through this.”
They walked hand in hand through the palace rose garden.
“There are rose bushes everywhere,” Caden said. “This must be amazing in the summer; no garden could surpass this, save Rose Red's and Lily White's.”
“Hence the reason I picked it for our vow sharing,” she said, and thwacked him on his arm.”
“Ow! My princess packs a punch!”
“I've had practice on my hellion little brothers,” Avila said. “Rhonwen gave me permission to hit you, by the way.”
“I bet she did,” Caden grinned. Then his grin fled. “Who is that?”
She turned to see a dark-robed figure moving through the maze of leafless rose bushes.
“That, is Faolá¡n, father’s new toy. An expensive one too, he put a dent in Parasia's treasury.”
“Excuse me?”
“A wizardling he purchased from someone named Iacobus. Father controls Faolá¡n with a blue orb on the end of a staff.”
Caden grabbed Avila’s hands. “Iacobus? There aren’t many in the world with that cursed name. He was one of Amangons’ dark generals. Is Faolá¡n enslaved?”
“Do not look so troubled, love. The collar he wears enforces obedience, yes, but he is well cared for. And he performs the most amazing tricks-”
“-Avila! You cannot treat him as a trick pony! He is human being and-”
“-our rank permits us to treat him as we choose. Now hush,” Avila said. “Faolá¡n! Come here!”
The young man shuffled to where the couple stood and removed his hood, which allowed his black curls to spill out.
“Yes, m’lady?” Faolá¡n said with a smile. The smile turned to frown when he nodded to Caden. “Prince.”
“The Prince and I are trying to choose where our betrothal vows will be given, and I am of a mind to have them here. Would you cast an illusion to show us how the garden will look in full summer bloom?”
“I …am in the midst …of a research project …your father has ordered me to-”
“-men lack imagination in these matters, and it would be most helpful to my prince to be able to see it,” Avila said.
“What? Cannot the ‘golden prince’ manage a simple illusion?” Faolá¡n said. “I am told his is proficient at whatever he sets his hand to.”
“I am certainly no magician, and…” Caden paused to regard the man. “…why do you speak this way to me? Have I wronged you? You look barely into your manhood years, so I doubt we have met in battle.”
“You have not ill-treated me yet, but it is because you have lacked the opportunity,” Faolá¡n said. “In time you will; it is the nature of nobility to treat those of lesser rank as chattel.”
“That is not how we think in Glamorgan! There, a man’s worth is measured by his-”
“-Gentlemen! You bore me with your tedious words,” Avila said. “Faolá¡n, do not force me to tell my father of your behavior. Do this little favor for me, please?”
When she grasped his hands, Faolá¡n’s face reddened. “Yes, m’lady, for you.”
Faolá¡n closed his eyes, raised a hand, and spoke:
![[Welsh - Rhosyn yr hafrhith yn ymddangos]](/topshelf/system/files/u3319/rhosyn.jpg "This is a magical incantation in Welsh, which means 'Roses seem to appear!'"){kind=small}
Red exploded everywhere, and where barren thorn stood before, now roses filled the bushes; thousands of them. The bushes greened too, bringing summer’s bloom into winter’s cold. Avila gasped.
“Spectacular! Yes! This is how it must look on our wedding day.”
“The illusion will last but a few minutes,” Faolá¡n sighed. “If that is all, I must return to my tasks.”
“Does it always flow out like a wave when you do that?” Caden said.
“You felt it?” Faolá¡n said. “That would be unfortunate.”
“Why?” Caden said.
“Because only one with the talent would be sensitive to the magic’s flow,” Faolá¡n said, “And the combination of an arrogant prince with the talent is a dreadful thought indeed.”
“The fellow has no love of me,” Caden said, as he watched the young wizard wander away. “I will not be on the lookout for couriers bearing invitations to his birthday party.”
“Ha! No one will receive those. His one friend in the world is his cat, whom he believes can talk,” Avila said. “Enough of him. My Ball is this evening and I must start dressing for it now. Let’s talk about what you will be wearing tonight, hmm?”
“Must we?” Caden sighed.
“I would rather be kissing you here, while the wondrous images of these roses yet remain.”
7.
Jaussen rode North, for several hours, alternating between gallop and cantor, and rotating among the three mounts he had hired. Once he cleared the Beldell Forest, he made better time, but stopped at last at the northern shore of the Orwyn River to rest his mounts.
“No one wins but Fermin and Grithra if I ride you fellows into the ground.”
He unsaddled and brushed them, then turned them to drink their fill and nibble on sage and rabbit brush.
Once Jaussen hung his riding cloak on a tree branch to air it out, he began executing a series of stretched to loosen his tight muscles from his angular build. The winter sun caught the copper of his hair, but did little to warm him.
His stretching complete, Jaussen paced.
“Do I or don’t I alert Rhys? I have three facts and an assumption to act on: 1) Arcum is mustering its army. 2) The forged document exists and is in Fermin’s hands. 3) the prince and princesses are in Westfalon, and 4) presumably Fermin is there now too. Doing …what? Or the better question is...
…what would I do, if I was Fermin?”
He spent another ten minutes muttering and pacing.
“Unless …the letter is designed to incite King Coel to what? Take a hostage of his own? A possibility, but, too simple for a Fermin plot. Grithra is cautious to a fault and will only attack when he is certain the odds favor him. And that would only be the case if he was certain Glamorgan would not come to Parasia’s aid. If anyone needs a hostage it is Gritha.”
After he said those words, Jaussen halted his pacing so quickly, he nearly fell over.
“Oh my holy Selene!”
Jaussen pulled a satchel from his backpack, withdrawing a small parchment, ink and quill. He scribbled words, then rolled the small strip up. He then looked skyward and whistled. High above, a falcon screeched, and soon he felt its talons gripping his shoulder.
After tying the small scroll to one of the falcon’s legs, he stroked the bird’s head.
“This is your lucky day, my friend, you fly home.” Jaussen said, and then in a louder voice,
“HOME.”
With another screech, the great bird was airborne, flying north-northwest toward the Glamorgan highlands.
When the bird was a speck in the afternoon sky, Jaussen looked to the plain where the horses grazed.
“Sorry, fellows, rest time is over. Time to move.”
End Part 2.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Duty and Destiny - Part 3
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
duty and destiny - part 3
by armond
Caden and his sisters are trapped by King Coel’s men after he reads the forged letter. The king offers Caden a onetime deal — submit willingly to his judgment, and he will return Caden’s sisters to Glamorgan unharmed.
The major arcana card, The Tower - to some it represents failure, ruin and catastrophe. To others, it is a smashing of dualism into its component parts, in preparation for renewal that does not come from reified, entrenched concepts...
8.
“…the ‘engagement’ was a shame, meant to lull you, while King Rhys pursues his true objective, an alliance with Grithra and Parasia’s subjugation.”
King Coel looked first at the two year old trade treaty document, and then the letter to Grithra from Rhys. He rubbed his temples.
“Why?”
“Your Majesty?”
Coel leaned back in his redwood chair. “Why would Rhys do this, and send his for daughters, and his only son, into my hands. This makes no sense.”
“King Rhys is cold,” Malavet said, stroking his beard. “Now we see the degree; he plays the game with his daughters as pawns.”
“But …Caden is here, too. Rhys treasures him as I do Avila; it is unthinkable he would he risk him. Are you certain this letter is authentic? And …how did you say we came by this letter?”
“I hate to admit this," the king's minister said with a grin, " but our Kotugel agent happened on the letter by accident; Selene’s will, you could say. And, yes, our foremost scribners independently agree; it is authentic. Majesty, consider this…”
Malavet leaned close to the king. “Rhys’ letter promises your daughter as hostage to Acrum, yet all know how closely you guard her. So who, in the world, has unfettered access to her? Who?”
The king’s face reddened. “Caden!”
“And …how convenient …the prince is here, leading a contingent of Glamorgan cavalrymen.”
Coel sprang from his chair. “I will hang him from the palace gate and throw his sisters into the dungeon!”
“Sire! No! Though frosty cold, Rhys is not subtle. Grithra, however...”
“I will make him suffer, I will…what did you say?”
“Don’t you see? You play into Gritha’s hand; you drive Rhys into Gritha’s arms!”
“Yes …” Coel fell back into his chair. “That’s true. Then what? Rhys must pay! And Caden too; he who would betray my daughter’s heart.”
“Up the ante, sire. Send King Rhys a letter of your own. Tell him Gritha betrayed him and that you are sending one of his daughters as hostage, say, Princess Gwyneth, to insure Glamorgan’s submission.”
“Hmm,” Coel cocked his head. “Rhys will accuse Gritha of a double cross, Grithra will deny it, but knowing the Arcum king, he will not return the princess without some profit-”
“-Distrust arises, their alliance is lost, and your daughter is spared captivity by the Arcum scum-”
“And from marrying Caden. I like much of your plan …yet …the scales aren’t even; Rhys has not the same love of his daughters as I of Avila. But Caden …I wonder…”
Coel sprang from his chair. “Gather our guards, Malavet. Arrest the Glamorgans. Confine the princesses to their rooms. In one hour’s time, convene my council in the State Chamber, where we shall craft our response to this treachery.”
“Yes sire. So you are in agreement with my proposal?”
“Yes, but with a twist,” Coel said. “I must consult with …Faolá¡n.”
9.
“So the sash …over the top?”
Caden’s reflection in the mirror showed him in Glamorgan cavalry dress blues, his wide white sash displaying several medals awarded during last spring’s border duty, and his four sisters crowding around, each in a floor length gown of differing rainbow hue.
“I assume if we weren’t here, you would be having this same discussion in your barracks with your men,” Gwyneth said.
“Ah, no, we’ve got nothing like your posh quarters; we stand in line for one miserable wash barrel. On the plus side, a good brawl or two usually erupts while in line.” Caden said. He straightened his shoulders.
“Will she find me irresistible?”
“You’re worse than we are,” Laelia said, before giving her brother an arm thwack. “Avila will swoon.”
“Oww! Why does everyone hit me these days? I was safer in the field.”
“You love this about us,” Carme said, hitting his other arm, “it is endearing.”
Her smile dissolved when she saw the expression on her brother’s face.
“Hey! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard, I-”
“No …no sshhh. I had the strangest feeling or premonition that…” Caden said.
His eyebrows shot up. “They’re coming! Lock the doors, Rhonwen! NOW!”
Rhonwen raised her skirt and sprinted to the door, locking it a moment before the doorknob shook on the other side.
“C’mon,” Caden yelled, as he wrestled a sofa in front of the door. "Everyone grab something to make a barricade!”
The sisters scrambled to pitch in, stacking chairs and tables on the couch. When the door shook again, a voice yelled, “Open in the name of the king.”
“Who speaks, and by what right do you come?” Caden said.
“Prince Cadon? Hiding here behind your sisters' skirts instead of with your men, eh? Open these doors and act like a man.”
Carme started screaming until Rhonwen clamped a hand over her mouth. When Caden’s hand went for his saber, Gwyneth grabbed it.
“Don’t. This is exactly what he wants, to throw open the doors and allow his men to overwhelm us.”
“If this is the end, I will go out fighting!”
“Use your brains! Father did not raise you stupid,” Gwyneth said. “We don’t know what this is about, nor the fate of our men. Play. For. Time.”
“How? We are trapped and in moments they smash the doors.”
“Under section 3.2 of the Treaty of Argentia,” Gwyneth answered, “when armed conflict between two countries is eminent, a head of state has the right to demand an immediate parlay with the opposite leader, to attempt to avoid the bloodshed.”
The pounding on the doors grew later, as did the shouts of ‘OPEN!’
“That’s a stretch, Gweni,” Caden said. “I am not the king, this is not war, and …you’ve actually read the Treaty?”
“I have read all the treaties in our archives,” Gwyneth said. “At this moment, you represent the Glamorgan crown. Since you have a sword, and I presume they do as well, this conflict is ‘armed.’ They are bound to consider it, brother, as all Argentia states signed the Treaty, save Acrum, Utaris, and the elves of the Eastern Reaches. Even the Sultans of the Anatol Isles agreed …do it!”
Caden nodded and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, under section …”
“3.2,” Gwyneth whispered.
“…3.2 of the Treaty of Argentia,” Caden continued, “I demand, as the highest ranking Glamorgan official present, to an immediate parlay with King Coel.”
The pounding stopped. “Are you serious? Stop playing games; you only make it harder on yourself.”
“You heard me; it is the law. Relay my words to the king.”
Though the swearing on the other side of the door increased, the pounding stopped.
“We’ve bought a few moments, maybe, so let’s decide how to approach this,” Gwyneth said. “What could cause King Coel to do this?”
“We find out soon, no doubt, but since we are being treated as criminals, some treachery or betrayal has happened.”
“Yes, good,” Gwyneth answered. “Let’s assume something has happened which causes Coel to name us enemies. We must listen to his grievance, and try to rebut it, however …this will not end well for us, brother. We must accept that we will not escape this unscathed.”
“You sound like father, and,” Caden said, “you aren’t exactly inspiring confidence in me, either.”
“I need you to focus on cutting losses and seeking attainable goals. Since we won’t talk our way out of this, we must seek an outcome which sets one of us free to flee to Celyn for help. So …demand a full trial, offer me as a good faith hostage, and get Coel to agree to let you to take Roni, Cami and Lali back to Celyn.”
“NO! I won’t sacrifice you! I’ll die before I-”
“-It’s not like it has a snowball’s chance in Tartaros of succeeding. As far as cards to play, we have deuces,” Gwyneth said. “Our men are in irons, I imagine, and Father doesn’t expect us home for days, so no help is coming.”
“Perhaps Coel’s love of his daughter could sway him?” Caden said. “If she were to ask for his mercy and temperance, we might avoid serious harm until we are able to unravel this mystery.”
“She loves you that much?" Gwyneth said. "She would stand up to her father and demand this? Are you sure?”
“Yes! For me Avila would-”
Three slow pounds on the door interrupted them and a voice filtered through.
“His majesty, King Coel, has arrived,”
Then another voice. “Caden? You will pay for your treachery.”
“King Coel, under the Treaty of Argentia I demand a parlay-”
“We are parlaying now, boy. Open this door and surrender.”
“What wrong are we accused of?” Caden said. “I demand to know.”
“You demand nothing.” Coel hissed. “But, I make you this offer. Surrender to me now. Submit to my judgment, I will allow your sisters to return Glamorgan immediately.”
“How can I trust you to keep your word?” Caden said.
Coel barked a laugh. “That my men did not batter the door down and flood arrows into your room is your assurance.”
“Take me with you,” Rhonwen said, stepping next to Caden. “I can be useful in a fight.”
“I don’t want to take any of you with me but…” Caden shook his head. “Gwyneth, you’ve got a clear head, would you-”
“Yes, of course I will go with you, brother. Now, give your saber to Roni. She will guard Cami and Lali and, if we don’t return…”
“I escape and ride for help.” Rhonwen said, balancing the blade and sweeping it through the air.
“You try my patience, Prince.” Coel’s said. “Accept my terms, now, or suffer - all of you!”
His sisters gathered around with tears in their eyes. “You know I love you so much-”
“Shhh, we know,” Carme said, “we know.”
“May Selene grant you the mercy to come back to us alive,” Laelia said, kissing him on his cheek.
“I accept," Caden shouted to the door. :I’m coming out, and Princess Gwyneth comes with me as witness.”
“Excellent. Prepare to meet your fate, Prince Caden.”
10.
“This letter is a fraud. My father has no love of King Grithra and would NEVER consider an alliance with him. You must believe me!”
King Coel held up his hand. “Prince Caden, you speak as though this were a hearing, where evidence is presented and verdicts debated. It is not. You stand before my counselors to receive punishment.”
Caden scanned the faces of the officials before him, Parasian generals, ministers, advisors, the king, and …Princess Avila. They sat around a large hollow circle, with Caden and Gwyneth standing in the center.
“Ask for mediation,” Gwyneth whispered in his ear. “Someone neutral, the …King of Pavnor or better, the Selene high priestess Cunedda.”
“King Coel, I request this matter be submitted to mediation, for an impartial verdict. I propose-”
“SILENCE. No more statesman tricks. You agreed to submit to my sentence, yet now I hear a coward's retraction.”
“We are out of options, brother.” Gwyneth whispered again. “Play the mercy card. Appeal to Avila for her to intervene …and pray to Selene.”
“I cannot read her face; it looks set in stone,” Caden whispered back. Then he cleared his throat.
“Avila. Love. You know my heart. You know I would not betray you nor could I ever send you into the hands of King Gritha. Plead my cause to your father. Ask him to stay his hand until this matter may be unraveled. Please …for me …for our love.”
“Well, daughter? Shall I show Prince Caden clemency, for you? Tell me your wish and I will grant it.”
Avila sat silent beside her father, wearing no expression on her face.
Then her lip curled.
“He that would betray me is no love of mine. The punishment you have arranged will be …perfect.”
“Avila! Love! I didn’t betray-”
“-NEVER speak that word to me again.” She turned to Coel. “Let it happen here and now, for me father. Please?”
Gwyneth draped hers around her brother.
“She is a snake!” Gwyneth whispered. “I’m so sorry. I worried about her; we all did.”
“I …I loved her,” Caden stammered, “…and I thought she-“
“Princess Gwyneth, you must move now,” Coel said.
“No! I stand with my brother!”
“Touching, but you will not want to be where you are in a moment. Guards!”
“Stay brave, brother! Whatever he has planned, I don’t think he will have you executed. That would bring the Glamorgan Hammer down on him for sure.”
Once the guards led Gwyneth to the side of the room, Coel motioned to someone.
“Wizard Faolá¡n! Come forward!”
As the hooded wizard made his way to the king, Malavet stood from his seat.
“Forgive me, my lord, but I don’t understand. We agreed the Prince was to go free and Princess Gwyneth was to be sent as hostage to King Grithra.”
“Patience, Malavet. A Glamorgan princess will be given as hostage to Arcum, just not the one you expected. Begin, Faolá¡n.”
Faolá¡n lowered his head to the king. “Once more I beg you, do not ask me to use my powers this way. What you propose is complicated and dangerous-”
“Silence!” Coel said, raising his right hand; in it, he held a scepter with a blue glowing orb. “DO IT!”
Faolá¡n clutched his collar, doubled over, and screamed. Only after the blue of the orb dulled was he able to stand. The young wizard stumbled to within a pace of Caden,
“He forces me," Faolá¡n gasped. "Yet, if you planned the treachery against Avila they accuse you of, you deserve this.”
“Deserve what? Caden said.
“You poor poor fool," Faolá¡n said, raising his staff. "You find out..."
...NOW!
End Part 3.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Duty and Destiny - Part 4
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
duty and destiny - part 4
by armond
Jaussen rides hard to Westfalon to try to thwart Arcum’s plots and avert war. But …is he too late? For the wizard Faolá¡n has begun chanting the invocation of unmaking …upon Caden.
11.
“…Arcum’s forces are mustering for what must be all out war, I’ve ridden twenty four hours straight from Kotugel, to find the princess’ escorts thrown into the stockade, Prince Caden missing, and Parasian guards have sealed the palace. What. has. happened?”
“Jaussen, friend, you look ready to collapse on your feet. Matters are never as dire as the young paint them. Trust an old man; this will wait til the morning light. Eat, drink, and rest, or if you are inclined, clean up and attend Princess Avila’s Winter Ball this evening.”
“Arrgh!” Jaussen slammed his saddle pack on the older man’s table, threw open the worn leather flap, and drew out a parchment. “Before you speak one more word, General Gares, READ.”
Gares put down his long pipe and patted around his shirt. “Blast! Where are my spectacles? Cursed things!”
“Um, General? They are in your …hair.”
Gares snorted, and lowered his glasses to rest on his nose. “You’ve no doubt heard people talk of how old age is the time to enjoy the fruits and wines of a life’s work? Complete nonsense! Enjoy youth while you can, young man,”
“Please sir, “Jaussen growled, “the document.”
“Fine fine.”
Gares lowered his head to look at the parchment. After several moments, he looked up.
“Is this a joke? If so, it is in poor taste, by the gods! In his letter to King Grithra, King Rhys proclaims he would rather ally with a Pavnor jackass. His descriptions of Grithra become much more …um …colorful …after that.”
“I suspect —I fear- you will find another Rhys to Grithra letter has been given to King Coel recently. In it, King Rhys proposes an alliance between Glamorgan and Arcum, and states he will deliver Princess Avila to Grithra as a hostage.”
“What? That must not be! For war will surely-” Gares paused. “Did you just say Arcum’s army was mustering?”
“Ah, you start to see it. But hold the thought a moment, sir,” Jaussen said. “You know Glamorgan has always been friend to Parasia; this is why I sought you out. You will find the signatures of both letters to be in all ways identical; neither of which were signed by King Rhys. Rather, they were writ by the scribner Syner of Kotugul.”
Gares’ his jaw dropped. “Forgeries!”
“Yes,” Jaussen nodded. “King Grithra’s spy, Fermin, may have passed it to someone with influence and access to King Coel; you must take this letter to him to show both as frauds. Lives depend on it.”
“I’m afraid you overestimate my influence, Jaussen. Since I retired two winters ago, minister Malavet has the king’s ear and…” Gares’ mouth stopped moving and his eyes widened.
“What? What of Malavet?”
“I still have eyes and ears in the court, and received word not an hour ago that there have been a series of closed door meetings between Malavet and the King. The last involved Princess Avila and a young wizard named Faolá¡n. I assumed they planned some special show this evening, fireworks or some such. But now…”
“I’ve a bad feeling about this, sir. Fermin’s plans have become simple indeed. Drive a wedge between Glamorgan and Parasia, and then attack us; first one, then the other; he aims to rule all the Western Reaches.”
“By Selene we must stop this!”
Jaussen slapped his hand on Gares’ shoulder. “You have credits still with your king, for it was you who held insane Amangons at bay until the Selenes could kill him. Seek out the king.”
Jaussen closed up his saddle bag and flung it over his shoulder.
“Show him this letter. Bid him stay his hand until the truth comes out. Lives …and kingdoms …are at stake.”
“I will go to him. Will you not accompany me?”
“I have …other business to attend to,” Jaussen said, shaking his head. He opened the door to the general’s cottage. “Don't fail, General.”
12.
Energy crackled around the prince, freezing him in place, and a blue vortex formed to swirl around Faolá¡n and Caden.
“…what …is …happening…?” Caden moaned.
“I don’t know,” Faolá¡n said through gritted teeth. "The chant of unmaking is not supposed to work this way."
He placed his both hands on his staff and pointed touched it to Caden’s forehead.
Caden moaned louder. A blue energy jolt traveled from Caden down Faolá¡n’s staff and into his hands. He shreiked and dropped the staff. The swirling vortex expanded and brightened, enclosing the two. Gwyneth screamed her brother’s name.
Faolá¡n grabbed his staff and crawled to his feet.
“This is wrong!”
He pointed the crystal tip of the staff at the prince once more.
Blue sparks outlined Caden’s body, floating him off the ground. The vortex spinning increased, blowing gale force winds that toppled the tables and sent everyone scrambling for cover.
“By Selene, you have the talent!” Faolá¡n said. “Curse me to Tartaros! What a novice’s mistake I have made! Your natural power resists the spell!”
“What ...spell ?” Caden groaned through chattering teeth. “What ...are ...you ...doing ...to ...me?”
The vortex grew to tornado proportions, firing random blue bolts into the room.
“The power builds too fast! I’M LOSING CONTROL! Stop fighting it or we will die!” Faolá¡n yelled.
“Then ...we ...die” Caden cried, his body now outlined in bright blue light. “my ...conscience ...is ...clear …is ...yours?”
“No! I mean, I …I haven’t lived at all, save as a slave! Don’t kill me before my life has started!” Faolá¡n said. “I beg you!
The palace foundations shook, sending tremors that split rafters and cracked floors. Above the vortex’s howl, Caden heard Gwyneth scream his name again; he yelled back,
“Gweni! Run!”
“SHE DIES TOO!” Faolá¡n shouted. “All will, unless …Prince! GIVE YOURSELF TO THE POWER!”
Caden’s body glowed so bright a blue, Faolá¡n could not look at him. He shielded his eyes, to see the Prince scream the words:
i ...surrender ...to ...Selene...
Faolá¡n’s eyes shot skyward. “Help me Holy Selene! Guide my hand, for I have not the power to do this without you!”
He struggled to raise his staff once more. And again he spoke the words:
The vortex narrowed and narrowed, until it cocooned Caden only, whirling faster and faster. Then, with thunder crack and blinding flash, the vortex vanished, leaving silence.
Faolá¡n peered at the destruction:
Scorch marks covered the floor and ceiling from blue lighting hits. Cries and whimpers crawled from rubble that used to be tables and chairs.
And in the room’s center, lay a figure, bathed in blue light.
A woman.
Faolá¡n knelt beside her and gently rolled her to her back.
She was naked, but for a strip of shredded white sash that covered her breasts.
Luscious black hair splayed on the floor to frame her face. Her red rose lips were parted just enough to let a small sigh escape.
When her delicate black eyelashes fluttered open for a moment, Faolá¡n looked into sparkling blue eyes.
“Oh my Goddess!” Faolá¡n gasped:
“You are the most beautiful creature in the world!”
13.
“What are you doing with our sheets?”
“Tying them together,” Rhonwen said. She had shed her ball gown for dark slacks and shirt.
“Duh! I meant what are you going to do with them once they are tied together?” Carme said.
“I can’t stand being cooped up here, blind to what’s happening. I’ve watched out our window, and there are no guards patrolling below.”
“Why would they? We are three stories up!” Carme said. “You’d be crazy to-”
“-Caden said for you to guard us,” You cannot disobey him and leave us-”
“-You’ll fall to your death!” Laelia said. “You’re insane to even think-”
“Shut up! I hate it when you two start ganging up like that; no one ever gets a word in. I just want a look around. ”
Rhonwen tied the makeshift ‘rope’ to a wooden bedpost, opened the window and lowered it.
“Oops, looks like I’m a few feet short. Aw well.” She turned to her sisters. “When I whistle, pull this back in. When you hear my second whistle, lower it and I’ll climb back up.”
“But what happens if the guards come looking for you?” Laelia said. “What will we tell them?”
“Selene help me! You sound like a soppy Parasian maid! Throw some pillows under a comforter and tell ‘em I’m sick.”
Rhonwen shimmed out the window and started to lower herself. She popped her head back in. “You are Glamorgan women! Start acting like it and use your heads!”
After Rhonwen watched her ‘rope’ disappear back through the window, she turned …and gasped. A hooded man stood before her, framed by the evening dusk.
“Going somewhere …Princess Rhonwen?”
“Um, yes. As a matter of fact, I’m meeting …my lover-”
“Save your silly excuses; I will not let you disrupt my plans. I’m taking you back to our Parasian friends. I’m sure they will be most appreciative. ”
“Your Parasian friends?” Rhonwen stepped a pace away from the man. “So you are not from Westfalon then?”
“Er, no, I didn’t say that-”
“And your accent …you are from Arcum, aren’t you? Interesting.”
“And you are too smart for your own good, girl. Now shut up and come with me.”
The man grabbed for Rhonwen, who stepped aside and spun a kick into his side, producing an ooof!”
“You’ll pay for that,” the man said, drawing a sword.
“Nice,” Rhonwen answered. She reached behind her head and pulled Caden’s saber from where she had strapped it to her back.
“Oh look! I’ve got one too.”
“Stop playing, girl, and drop it, or I will hurt you.”
“Take it from me,” Rhonwen smiled, whipped her long auburn hair behind her back, and raised the saber to en garde position.
The man laughed, then lunged. Rhonwen parried, riposted, then stabbed the man …in his heart.
After he fell to the ground, she pulled the saber out and stood over him.
“As you wished, sir, I stopped ‘playing.’”
A clapping sound behind her made her jump, and she whirled, to see a second cloaked man, with hands raised.
“Impressive sword work, Princess. But …what do you plan to do with the body? When killing someone, it’s always a factor to consider.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “What do you suggest, stranger?”
“Lucky for us, I have brought men who can help.”
The man made a signal with his hand, then threw off his hood.
“Jaussen! Gods, am I glad to see you!” Rhonwen said.
“Likewise, Princess. And …I am in awe, too. Do you know who this man is …er, was?”
When Rhonwen shook her head, he continued. "Before you lies Gritha’s slipperiest spy, the great Fermin. Killed by a woman. Heh!”
Rhonwen’s sword rose lightning fast. “You say that as if you are surprised.”
“Er, I meant no offense,” Jaussen said, stepping away, but laughing too. “Lads? I may be in need of saving.”
Several young men came running up. They stopped, and bowed their heads to Rhonwen.
“You’ve sprung our men?”
“I thought it prudent. Now, while these fine young men —with all due reverence- drag mister Fermin to the river for a modified ‘burial at sea,’ why don’t you tell me what in Tartaros is going on.”
14.
Faolá¡n whipped off his robe and covered the unconscious woman. Gwyneth was first to vault from the rubble to reach her.
“Oh gods, Caden,” Tears fell down her face as she took the girl's head in her hands. She looked up at the wizard and sobbed, “You’ve change him to this? Why?”
“Because I ordered him to; because he ...no, she ...deserved,” King Coel answered. He addressed Faolá¡n. “You fool! You could have killed us all!”
Coel, Avila and his many of his council men gathered wide-eyed and open mouthed around Gwyneth and her new sister.
“She is beautiful" Coel hissed, "I told you to fashion her into a hag!”
“It was in Selene’s hands.” Faolá¡n answered.
“Hmm. Perhaps ...this is better. I doubt high Priestess Cunedda did better when she transformed Prince Owain into Rose Red. As a beauty, she will be vulnerable and oh-so-tempting to the Arcum scum. Yes, perhaps this way is better. Let me see if the rest of Princess Caden is as pretty as her face.
When he reached for Faolá¡n’s robe, Gwyneth slapped it away.
“Keep your putrid hands off him,” Gwyneth said. “You will pay for what you have done, I swear it!”
“You are mistaken, Princess. This is payment —justice- for what King Rhys and Prince Caden tried to do.”
King Coel stood up and looked out a chamber window; the sun dipped low on the horizon. He turned to Avila.
“The evening is here, daughter and you have a ball that starts soon.”
“But Father!” Avila answered, as she wrenched her eyes from the woman on the floor, “surely we must cancel it now.”
“Oh no,” he shook his head. “I wouldn’t hear of it. In fact, we shall have excellent entertainment. Princess Caden will be leaving in a prison cart for her trip to Arcum. As hosts, it would be polite if everyone at the ball came to wish her farewell.”
“Ha! Now that would be fun!” Avila said.
“You would humiliate her in front of all?” Gwyneth said. “You are more twisted than Grithra could ever be!”
“Your father should not have crossed me. Now he learns exactly what kind of enemy I make."
Coel turned to one of his nearbyu officers. "Captain Isla! Have your men take Princess Gwyneth to her room and confine her there; she and her sisters are to leave for Glamorgan at morning’s light. Oh what a tell they shall tell to King Rhys; I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that discussion."
Coel turned his gaze back to the Caden; her soft breath making here breasts rise and fall so slightly. He stroked his chin.
"Also Captain, muster an escort for Princess Caden; she is to leave for Arcum later tonight, and...”
Coel’s mouth curled to a grin “…have a dress maker brought to the palace.”
“I sorry, did you say …a dress maker?” Avila stammered.
“If your former fiancée is to attend your Ball," the king's head bobbed. "She must be clothed in the finest of gowns.”
"I like this more and more," Avila said. "Tell me how it will happen."
"Yes, let me set the stage," Coel said, bubbling. "In two hours time, couch after couch will arrive, each more regal than the last. The crowd grows, cheering as our noblewomen strut their finest gowns upon the red carpet."
Avila clapped her hands. "I so love this part of the night! The pageantry! The competition!"
"Exactly, my sweet. Now, imagine this, instead of ornate couch, a prison wagon ambles up; its bars covered by sheets. The crowd murmurs - what mystery is this?"
"ooo! yes! yes!" squealed Avila. "And painted on the wagon, a sign: "within lies Caden, former prince of Glamorgan."
"Then you regally walk to the wagon, pull off the sheet, and display the 'princess' for all to see."
Avila laughed and threw her arms around her father's neck.
"They shall speak of this party throughout all of Argentia, for years and years!"
End Part 4.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Duty and Destiny - Part 5
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
|
duty and destiny
Part 5 by armond But the spy Jaussen and the Glamorgan princesses form alternate plans…
|
15.
“Is he …did they kill Caden?”
Gwyneth huddled on the floor, doubled over and weeping.
“Yes! No!” She looked up at her sisters’ worried faces. “I don’t know.”
“It has to be one or the other, Gweni, tell us!” Carme said. “Did they kill him?”
“Kill him? …in a way, they did-”
A whistle sounded outside their window.
“Wait! That’s Roni; she needs to hear this too.”
Gwyneth followed Carme and Laelia to the window and watched them throw down the makeshift rope.
“She didn’t,” Gwyneth hiccupped laughed through her sobs. “I should have known Roni would pull something like this.”
Soon their auburn haired sister tumbled through the window, rolling up to hug Gwyneth. “Gweni! You’re back! Where is Caden?”
“She won’t say; she speaks in riddles,” Carme said.
“Out with it now Roni is here!" Laelia said. "What have they done with him?”
“They …the wizard Faolá¡n, transformed him into… into…”
“Into WHAT?” Rhonwen said. “A stone statue? An animal or-”
“A young lass! As young as you, Carme, I SAW it,” Gwyneth said, breaking into sobs again.
“Holy Selene, this will kill father,” Rhonwen said, clutching her arms around Gwyneth.
“Is she healthy at least?” Carme said quietly. “And …not deformed?”
“Deformed? No, beautiful …like the painting of mother when she was young,” Gwyneth said. “Coel claimed Father and Caden betrayed him and planned to kidnap Avila to send her to Arcum as hostage. So he sends the transformed Caden instead in a prison wagon. But first, they will parade her at the Ball like a circus animal.”
“She’s in a prison wagon? Then we must free her and ride for Glamorgan, now!”
The sisters spun to the sound of the speaker, and saw a man crawling in the window.
“Jaussen!” Laelia cried out, as they ran to him. “Can you help Caden? Can you-”
Jaussen held up his hand. “What is done may be perhaps undone, though I have never heard the like of this! Coel will pay; King Rhys will strangle him! But now is not the time for revenge.”
He looked out the window, and saw nothing but the evening dark.
“Good. No one is alerted still, and our men are well hid. Pray to Selene our luck holds a while longer.”
He turned back to the Princesses and crossed his arms.
“What I do know, is we must get you …and Caden …out of here! War is coming, and the only safe place is in Ceyln. A coach waits on the edge of the city. Everyone will be distracted by Avila’s ball and darkness is our ally.”
“But what of Caden? How will we rescue him?” Rhonwen said.
“Her,” Gwyneth said, shaking her head. “Having seen her miraculous transformation, and naked body, I can in no way refer to her as man. When last I saw her, she was unconscious but breathing deep.”
Jaussen paced the floor.
“The Guard detail will be light —I hope- as everyone prepares for Avila’s Ball. Since the shift change at the stockade won’t happen for several hours, the alarm for our men’s’ escape won’t sound yet a while. By Selene we have enough time to …”
The broad-shouldered spy turned to Rhonwen.
“Your swordsmanship is amazing, Princess, but how are you with the more subtle arts?”
“Excuse me?” Rhonwen said.
“Though I suspect the guard detail will be no more than three or four, a direct assault is risky. You’ve a cool head, I have seen it. If her captors could be distracted by a …beautiful woman …I might be able to, uh, quietly subdue them.”
“Why Jaussen! You’ve managed to compliment my intellect and my looks; how efficient of you,” Rhonwen grinned. “How would you ‘quietly subdue them’ ?”
“I’ve a cache of potent blow darts from the Anatol Isles in my saddle pack. A single dart can drop a Nglal in his tracks,” Jaussen said. “So you’d consider it?”
“I will do anything to free my brother,” She glanced at Gwyneth, “Er, sister, I mean-”
“-We know what you mean,” Gwyneth said, taking her sister’s hands and squeezing them. “I know I can’t talk you out of this, so be careful.”
“I will,” Rhonwen said, and turned to Jaussen and bowed her head.
“We owe you, sir. You have risked much and do so again for us,” she said, and took his hand. “King Coel will kill you if you fall into his hands.”
“No thanks are needed, Princess, I do so for country and king. And,” he added, “don’t call me sir; I am but a handful of years older than you.”
Rhonwen nodded, and cocked her head. “What do you suggest I wear to distract the guards?”
“Something to show off those legs of yours,” Jaussen answered, as his eyes traveled down her body.”
Rhonwen sauntered to the walk-in closet, but paused before she closed the door. “Remember, what I wear is meant to distract the guards; I need you concentrating on saving Caden.”
“That may be hard,” Jaussen muttered, then turned to the remaining sisters.
“You must change into riding clothes, my Princesses, and ready to leave, but …give me your ball gowns. They might yet see the party tonight, even if you will be faraway, riding hard to blessed Glamorgan.”
16.
“Lord and Lady Kosota!”
Applause erupted as a gold-trimmed white carriage rolled up, pulled by a team of milky Anatolian horses.
The Parasian crowd had grown so large, it spilled from the Great Palace Hall entrance onto the lawn. Not even the chill winter night could dampen the crowd’s mood, for a rumor had spread of a special surprise from their King. The smell of hot cider and fiddlers’ notes that wafted from inside raised spirits as well.
“White coach and horses; how drool, how last Ball,” Avila said, through her too wide smile.
“The Duke and Duchess of Estius!”
A carriage, dripping in red velvet and ornate brass flourishes, pulled to stop to the cheers of the partiers.
Avila clapped her hands. “Now that is more like it!”
“You show a face of one having fun, daughter, but are you,” Coel said “Only hours ago we were set announce your betrothal.”
“I am over Caden; I am fine. Better,” Avila said, twirling one of her blond locks with a finger. “Lieutenant Ruben and Captain Vanlier have asked to dance with me.”
“But save a dance for me,” Coel said.
“Always, Father.” Avila said. “Speaking of Caden, when will our newest princess arrive?”
“Patience! You are like a child before yuletide.”
Avila stood with the king at the Palace Hall doorway, greeting the nobility as the arrived. To Coel’s left stood Malavet, dressed in a white minister’s uniform, with silver epilates on his shoulder.
To his right stood Faolá¡n, dressed in a gaudy robe covered in stars. The king had ordered him to wear it; he wanted his subjects to know he controlled a wizard.
Faolá¡n gave the robe no thought at all; Caden’s gorgeous face filled his mind.
“I can’t stand it,” Avila whined. “I’m going to wait with Cordia and Eleonor by the curb.”
“Fine, go.” Coel sighed. “Try not to pee on yourself when the wagon arrives.
“Father!” Avila glared at him before running to her friends.
“Your highness!” General Gares said, passing the squealing princess on his way to the king. His red formal infantry uniform was laden with medals from Parasia’s wars with King Amangons. “I must speak with you on a matter of the highest urgency.”
“Er, cannot it wait, my general?” Coel said. “At least until the after tonight’s festivities?”
“No sir, it cannot. Read this.” Gares handed him the letter.
Coel sighed, and held the letter to a nearby torch for light. After he read several sentences, he looked up at the general, uncertain whether he should be laughing or angry.
“I never realized you had such a jovial sense of humor, general,” Coel said.
“I have none at all, sir.”
The king handed the letter to Malavet, who scanned it.
“This is absurd! Rhys would never write such a letter to Gritha; it would be diplomatic suicide.”
“Yet, see? King Rhys’ hand written name sits at the bottom.”
“A forgery, obviously,” Malavet said. “Where did you get this?”
“Interesting that,” Gares smiled. “It was scribed by the same hand that wrote the letter you showed to the king earlier today. Compare the two. You will find the signatures match precisely; the Kotugul Scrivener that wrote them does fine work.”
“Lies!” Malavet hissed. “This is a trick!”
A murmur ran through the crowd; a prison wagon was rolling its way down the entrance circle. A boy sat atop the creaky wagon, waving to the crowd.
Faolá¡n stepped forward and spoke to Gares. “Are you saying Prince Caden was innocent? If so, I have worked the greatest crime!”
“The general is in league with Arcum,” Malavet said. “It is the only answer.”
“He is our greatest living hero. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t,” the king said. He turned to Faolá¡n. “Is there nothing you can do to resolve this? Some magic spell to get to the truth of the matter?”
Faolá¡n stroked his chin. There existed no such spell, but they didn’t know that.
“I know a simple one.” He brought his staff forward. “Gentlemen, lay your hands on the crystal tip of my staff and say ‘I speak truth.’”
“That is it?” Coel said. “What will happen?”
“If the speaker’s words are true …nothing.”
“And if they are false?”
Faolá¡n shrugged. “Then the speaker dies.”
Gares hand shot over the crystal orb. “I speak truth.”
After as moment, he took it off and looked at the king. “You see?”
The king turned to Malavet. ‘Well, minister?”
Malavet jumped away from Faolá¡n’s staff.
“My intent in the ruse was pure, Majesty. I did this to prevent a war; a high ranking Arcum agent told me if Caden and Avila wed, Grithra would attack Parasia as a preemptory strike.”
“The letter was a fraud and you knew it?” Coel stammered. “But then …Caden-”
“-Oh Selene forgive me!” Faolá¡n cried.
“You fool!” Gares growled at Malavet. “Arcum’s forces muster to attack us as we speak. I pray to the gods your actions haven’t caused a rift with Glamorgan when we need them most! What have you done to Caden? Is he locked in our stockade?”
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Avila’s voice rang out in the cold air. She stood before the wagon with her hand grasping the sheet. “As you know Prince Cadon and I were to announce formally our engagement tonight. The prince, however …sought to betray Parasia …and sell me into Arcum bondage.”
Anger murmurs rose from the crowd, and they gathered closer to the wagon.
“Stop her, king! End this tragedy!” Faolá¡n said. “Do not make Caden suffer more,”
“What have I done?” King Coel’s eyes turned glassy. “What do I do?”
“Yet the deceitful prince’s plans were discovered,” Avila continued, “and your king devised the most delightful punishment. The wizard Faolá¡n’s magic transformed prince to princess, and she will travel to Arcum in my place.”
“Is this true?” Gares gasped. “If so, we are doomed; Glamorgan’s calvary will thunder upon us before Arcum has a chance!”
“Stop! Stop!” Faolá¡n tried to push his way to the wagon, but the crowd was too thick.
“Behold, I give you Princess Caden!” Avila said, and ripped the cover sheet away from the prison wagon’s windows.
The crowd gathered closer, and soon laughter arose. Above it, Avila screeched:
“What is the meaning of this?”
For on the wagon’s side was painted: Princess Avila’s Bridesmaids.
Inside lay four men —two bearded- unconscious, and each wore a ball gown of differing hue.
17.
“I can’t stop looking at her. It isn’t possible; I feel like we’ve left our brother back in Westfalon.”
Laelia brushed a strand of rich black hair from the sleeping girl’s face, an action she had done many times since their hard run to Glamorgan started hours ago. The coach hit another bump, sending the sisters crashing into one another.
“Must we ride so fast?” Carme said. “At this pace, either our horses will drop or the coach will fly apart.”
“Didn’t Jaussen say he asked General Gares to clear Caden of the fake charges?” Laelia said. “Maybe they aren’t even following,”
“Oh, they’re following; I feel it,” Rhonwen said, looking out the coach flap. A light snow had started falling.
“We must assume so,” Gwyneth said. “Even if the general was successful, Coel will want us back. Once he realizes the wrong he has committed, he will be desperate to grasp a shield from Father’s wrath. Holding us captive is his best option.”
The coach smacked a boulder, knocking the sisters around again. Caden’s eyelashes fluttered open, showing eyes that sparkled blue.
“Where …am …I?”
Her voice was so soft -and unexpected- that the sisters were speechless for a moment.
“C-caden? Sweetie…” Carme took her hands. “How do you feel?”
“sooo strange…” she answered in a soprano pitch. “Blue light swirls round my mind, and there’s a beautiful woman there too, talking to me …singing to me. She sings the way Mom did when I was a kid.”
Her eyes closed, and she leaned against Carme’s shoulder. Rhonwen nudged her.
“Caden? Are you still with us?”
Caden’s eyes opened again. “Why is everything …bouncing?”
“You are …sick, honey, and we are rushing you back to Celyn to …see our healers.”
Caden’s eyes widened and became luminous; she gripped Rhonwen’s arm. “Llamrei! Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?”
“Sssh, Don’t worry. Llamrei rides with us; Jaussen leads her.”
Caden let out a soft sigh and lapsed into unconsciousness; they could not rouse her again.
“Well, Lali?” Gwyneth said.
“Well what?”
“Any doubts now?”
Laelia shook her head.
“Her first thoughts were of her horse; she’s Caden alright.”
The sudden lack of movement was more jolting than the bumps. The sisters —save Caden- stared at each other.
“Trouble,” Rhonwen said, and popped open the coach door to hop out.
Snow crunched under her feet as she hit the ground. When she oriented north she saw the Kibane forest a mile or so to her right and the Llanad Plateau looming in the distance to her left. Jaussen came cantering to her on his dapple-gray mount.
When he threw back his hood, she saw steam rising from his sweaty head.
“I’d ask you to get back in the coach, but you would no doubt refuse, and …we could use an extra sword.”
Rhonwen’s eyes narrowed. “Company?”
Jaussen nodded. “A mounted Parasian platoon, 25 or more; they double our numbers.”
“Can we outrun them?”
The dark-haired man shook his head. “They are half a league back and our horses are spent. We should face them here where we have scrub oak cover. We are still half a dozen hours from the Glamorgan border, and will be easy prey when we reach the Caldawy Flats.”
“Well then, what do you suggest?” Rhonwen scanned the landscape. “An ambush?”
“I love the way you think!” Jaussen grinned as he vaulted off his horse. “A pitch fight should be our last resort. I won’t risk any of your lives. How are you with a bow?”
“Better than you; why?”
“Ha! We’ll see.” Jaussen said. “If a few of us could pine them down for a while, we might delay long enough for help to arrive.”
“You expect help?” Rhonwen said, putting her hand on her hip.
“I expect nothing,” Jaussen said, “but I do have hope. Before I rode to Westfalon, I sent my falcon to Celyn with a message telling them you all were in danger. If my message reached them, then they are overdue.”
“How much time do we need to buy?” Rhonwen said.
Jaussen shrugged. “An hour? Ten? A week? I have no way of knowing. As I said, it is a hope.”
“Hmm. I suggest a different tact. We can’t ‘pin them down’ for more than an hour or two. If you want serious stalling time …let Gweni negotiate with them.”
“You are serious?” Jaussen said.
“Absolutely!” Rhonwen nodded. “She knows the law better than a pack of Father’s chancellors. And her tongue is so smooth, she could convince you to build a bridge where there is no river. The only way I win an argument with her is if it involves physical violence.”
“Forgive me, for I am confused, Captain Tyron,” Gwyneth said, widening her hazel eyes and batting her eyelashes. “You say the king has given you orders to escort his guests —us- back to Westfalon?”
The Captain nodded. “Yes, for the tenth time, yes. He said there was a …misunderstanding …and felt terrible for the way your visit ended. He wishes your return so he can make amends.”
“Yes, yes, I understand that part; it is most …gracious and sweet …of King Coel to offer this. Where I struggle …due no doubt to my limited female brain, is your statement that we are guests. Let me clarify …we are not charged with a crime?”
“Again. no, princess,” Tyron sighed. “None at all. So now that is cleared, let us depart for-“
“-Yet we are not free to continue to Celyn if we wish?” Gwyneth said.
“Er …no …King Coel has given me explicit orders to bring you and your-”
“-King Coel’s position expressly violates the Treaty of Viriatona; is it your wish to provoke a diplomatic incident?”
“Treaty of Viriatona?” Tyron scratched his balding head.
Gwyneth smiled. “But surely you know of it! It holds, among other tenants, that each person (1) has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each signatory country, and (2) has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.
“That is your interpretation, I am sure, but-”
“No no, it is fact. Let me recite Article 12 to you in its entirety.”
“That’s quite alright, princess-”
“-I insist good captain,” Gwyneth said, holding up her hand. *Ahem*
“…Article 12, Concerning Freedom of Movement. 12.1 As used in this Article, “Natural Right of Movement” shall mean…”
Some fifty long minutes later, Gwyneth halted her recitation, at the approach of thundering horse hoofs from the west.
“Ah! That would be the 2nd Company of the Glamorgan Calvary. Do you wish me to continue? Or …do you now concur with my position that, as guests, we should be permitted to continue on our way?”
Tyron eyed the 100 men who sat on horseback before him; members of the finest Cavalry in the Western Reaches.
“Er ...no, I …see your point and …unless you wish to return with us, we will be on our way.”
Gwyneth stood and bowed to the captain. “Thank you …but no, for we travel on to Celyn.”
Jaussen doubled over in laughter as the Parasian platoon rode away. “Princess Gwyneth, I doubt we needed the 2nd Company. Your position on the Treaty of Viriatona was as spectacular as it was time consuming.”
“Yes, thanks for that. Now if the treaty actually existed…” Gwyneth said, but her smile was sad. She turned to the men before her.
“Good sirs, I thank you for your service. We must take joy from what little victories we find, for dark days have come. Arcum raises a mighty war machine to the south, our Parasian allies have cast us aside, and we bear the most tragic news to our father the king.”
She turned and looked to the Glamorgan highlands, shimmering in the distance.
“Gentleman …take us home.”
End Part 5.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Duty and Destiny - Part 6
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
 |
duty and destiny
part 6 by armond Yet all is not lost; help and hope may come from an unexpected source. |
The Nine of Swords is one of the darkest cards in the tarot deck. When it appears in a reading, it is viewed as a sign of sorrow and depression...
18.
“The fellow's a scribbler for sure,” Vaego muttered, “and why do you suppose he writes so much?”
The squatty man edged closer, lurking in the shadows of a council chamber pillar. Vaego once was told he had the refinement of a prowling crocodile, and he didn't disagree; he knew the toothy predators were graceful indeed when they killed.
Vaego’s eye had been on this man for some days; his mark was a bald-headed attaché to General Baurdu, and wrote furiously as King Gritha's officers gave their reports.
“Facts are sketchy, Sire, since we lost contact with Fermin days ago, but this we know: some incident has indeed occurred to cause a rift between King Rhys and King Coel, for Glamorgan recalled its Parasia ambassador, and booted King Coel’s envoy out of Celyn. And finally, Prince Caden has mysteriously vanished.”
“You are sure of this, Captain Faro,” Gritha said, stroking his prominent chin. “For I must know, and this information —the divorcing of allies- is the trigger. Since insane Amangons’ deadly invasions, I have waited for the moment when Acrum controlled its destiny. We can no longer simply hope our neighbors behave rationally. We will ensure they do. In time, the Parasians and Glamorgans may appreciate the stability of our rule and think of this as a liberation. So again I say, are you certain?”
When Faro nodded, Grithra followed with his standard Hmmm. “Anything further, Captain?”
“Only this: General Gares has come out of retirement, and now recalls the Parasian reserves.”
“Blast! The first sensible move Coel has made in eons,” Gritha said, frowning. “Time works against us, for the longer we give Gares to mobilize, the worse our chances become. Next report; Colonel?”
“Sire,” Colonel Shalean said, bowing. “Operation Black Hook is primed. The remaining elements of Amangon’s Black Brigade have integrated with our own elite forces and the new unit is now a potent strike force. If we draw the main body of the Parasian army deep into the Drachill Basin, the Brigade will land at Corwell Bay and deliver a crushing blow to their rear guard, which…”
Vaego saw the scribbler's note taking ratchet to fevered pitch during Shalean's report.
“Interesting indeed.”
After the briefing ended, Vaego followed the man to a small apartment in the seedier side of Kotugul. He stood outside the man's door for a moment, listening, to the sound of coos. It took several moments to understand what the sound meant.
“Tartaro's dogs, those are carrier pigeons!”
Vaego drew his throwing blade and kicked open the door. The man whipped around to face his intruder; a mistake, as it turned out, because Vaego's knife caught him in the throat.
He stood over the Parasian spy and watched, as the man first thrashed wildly clutching his throat, gurgled red, then bled until he was still.
Removing his knife, Vaego wiped it on the man's shirt, and bent over to read the parchment sitting on the desk.
“Assault begins in two days time …beware of trap …surprise attack force to land at Corwell…”
Vaego looked down at the bloody figure. “You sir, write an excellent summary. A shame your superiors won’t receive this to appreciate your writing talents, but, that’s life …or death, in your case. You don’t mind if I keep this do you?”
A grin spread across Vaego’s face. “What a run of luck I’ve had! First my promotion after Fermin’s disappearance, and now this fresh success to add to my resume.”
Cooing drew the Arcum spy’s attention to the birdcages near the apartment window. He walked to the cages and opened them, shaking until the pigeons flew through the window.
He watched them disappear into the northern sky.
“And so the liberation of Parasia begins early.”
19.
The sentinels met before the castle doors at the striking of seven bells; each cloaked and hooded to ward off the cold.
“Who's there?”
“No, answer me; stand, and show yourself.”
“Long live King Rhys!” the relief sentinel said, and threw back his hood.
“Barnardo?”
“He.”
“It’s now struck seven; get to dinner, Francisco, for steamy braised mutton chops and hot mulled wine await you,” Barnardo said.
“For this relief much thanks; it’s bitter cold, and I am heart sick at all the news,” Francisco said.
“Has nothing changed?”
“No mouse stirred to change our fortune; the king has fled the town, and Prince Caden’s fate remains unknown, but…”
Francisco grabbed Barnardo’s arm.
“…if I did not know better, I would say a banshee haunts the prince’s room, for I have heard her shrieks from his window during my entire watch-”
Francisco stopped mid-sentence, for two cloaked figures approached the castle door.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“Weary travelers, seeking warmth and hospitality this winter’s eve,” the taller figure answered in a contralto voice.
“Who are you, and what business have you at Castle Celyn?” Barnardo said. The men’s hands now rested on the pommels of their swords.
The taller woman lowered her hood, to show golden hair topped by a silver circlet of crescent moons.
“I am called Cunedda, and we beg an audience with the Princesses of Glamorgan.”
The men blinked. “H-high Priestess Cunedda?” Barnardo stammered.
“That is my title, yes, good sirs,” Cunedda smiled.
“Show our guests in Barnardo; while I fetch the princesses,” Francisco said, running for the stairs.
“You honor us with your visit, Mother; how may we help you?” Gwyneth said. She knelt before Cunedda, as did her sisters.
“You have this backwards; I'm here to help you,” she said, smiling and rubbing her hands together. “Though I could use a cup of tea to drive the chill away. Which means you must rise from the floor this instant; otherwise I won’t get it.”
“Praise Selene for the fortune she sends!” Carme said. “You must help us, for a wizard cast a spell on our brother Caden-”
“-I know well what has happened,” Cunedda said, holding up a hand. “Seven nights ago, the Goddess sent me visions, and told me to come.”
“But …that was before it happened!” Rhonwen said. “Then you can help Caden, to turn her back into-”
Cunedda shook her head. “Selene sent me to help you, not Caden.”
“This makes no sense,” Laelia said. “Caden needs your help, not us!”
“The Goddess was clear in her intent, and it was not for me to aid Caden.” Cunedda said. “She did tell me to bring this fine young herb woman, though, who will help your new sister.”
“What?” Rhonwen said, “No! Caden needs powerful magics to counter this spell, not smelly herbs in a poultice.”
“Hey!” The second woman threw off her hood, which let wine red hair tumble out. She put a hand on a hip and her green eyes flashed.
“Don't you dare mean mouth my herbs! They might not be flashy, but earth magic runs deep.”
Gwyneth gasped “You're ...you must be ...Rose Red!” Gwyneth said.
“The one and only,” Rose said. “Er, at least as far as I know. And …skip the 'Red' part, if you don't mind, cause it seems a little redundant.”
“But that means ...if the rumor is true...” Carme squeaked as she put a hand to her mouth, “you used to be a man, too.”
“My little Rose was indeed,” Cunedda smiled, “which is why, I think, the Goddess told me she was just the man for the job.”
20.
“This is Caden's old …I mean her room,” Carme said, before the closed oaken door.
“Since we returned to Celyn, she neither eats nor sleeps. She covers her windows with blankets so no light enters. She covers herself as well, in a thick black blanket she huddles under, screaming curses at all who enter.”
Rose set her canvas satchel down and pulled out two small cloth bags. She smelled one.
“Mmmm, this should do it,” Rose said. She looked to Gwyneth. “Would you have someone from your kitchen steep this bag in boiling water for thirty two minutes and add this one during the last five?”
“I watched the wizard Faolá¡n spin a blue energy whirlwind around my brother that ripped a hole in a stone floor,” Gwyneth said, “and you would give her a ...tea ...as a cure? What could possibly be in it to defeat that powerful sorcery?”
“Oh, well, it's a secret blend, you know, but there's a bit of Valerian, some Jasmine, a dash of Passionflower, Chamomile, Skullcap and ...Diviner's Sage ...very rare.” Rose handed Gwyneth the bags. “Thirty two minutes, no less, no more.”
“Let's all do this while Rose meets with Caden,” Cunedda said to the sisters. “This does need to be precise and it will give me a chance to speak to you. Will you need anything else daughter?”
“A lamp I expect.” Rose cocked her head. “I wasn't too much trouble when I was changed, right, Mother?”
“No, practically none, Rose,” Cunedda smiled. “Well, except for the part where you wanted to stab me, but instead tried to kill yourself.”
“Ah. Yes. Except for that, I was no trouble at all.”
“Caden? Where are you?”
“Whoever you are …GO! …AWAY!”
Rose waved the lamp around the room to find the young woman. She spotted a four-post bed in a corner, and a dark figure curled on it.
“I'm here to help you.”
“Are you a sorceress?” The shadowy figure sat up. “Can you reverse this curse?”
Rose walked to the bed. “I am an herb woman; let me ease your pain.”
“An herb woman?” Caden barked a laugh. “You think bits of weed will help me? Be gone!”
“I’ve traveled through winter's waste to reach you, Prince Caden. I will not be gone.”
Rose held the light so it fell on Caden's figure.
“No! Take the lamp away, you pig farking pox of a woman!” Caden screamed in her high-pitched voice. She fell to the stone floor and scrambled into the shadows. “Stay away! You have no idea what evil has been done to me.”
“I know exactly what has happened to you.” Rose stalked her. “Look at me.”
“Leave me be! Let me die!”
“Never! I've seen death to last ten lifetimes,” Rose growled. “Look into the light.”
Rose's voice pulled Caden's face to the flaring lamp. The young woman's eyes were red and wild, with dark circles beneath them. Tear marks streaked her face, and her voice was hoarse from screaming.
“Who ARE you?”
“Four years ago, the armies of Acrum, Parasia, and Glamorgan banded to stop King Amangons' legion. They clashed on Mt. Caledonia, where the Glamorgan Cavalry fell as a hammer on Amangons' men. A desperate counter offensive was mounted; the Gwenaá«l Brigade charged the mountainside to gain the high ground.”
“Yes.” Caden's weeping stopped. “…my father told me the story …Prince Owain of the Sorrows led Brigade and almost succeeded, but when Amangons betrayed him and sent no reinforcements, they were overrun, and died to the man...”
Caden blinked as she truly saw the maiden holding the lamp before her.
“...except for the prince ...who was sent to the Selenes …to receive an enchanted punishment meant for Amangons...”
As she stared at hair the color of roses and into vibrant green eyes, her mouth dropped open.
“Oh Goddess,” Caden whispered, “it's you! You're Prince Owain!”
“I was Prince Owain,” Rose smiled. “Now I am Rose Red, a simple herb woman come to help a sister.”
The dumb-struck Caden didn't fight the smaller woman when Rose led her back to bed.
“Now, let me look at you.”
“No! …don't …I can't bear to see ...I'm a monster!”
“Hush,” Rose said, pulling Caden's dark tangled hair out of her face. Next, she drew the black blanket away.
And smiled.
“Monster indeed; Selene has blessed you, sister, you are stunning. Or, would be, if you weren't a little ripe. You need a bath.”
“I neither want to be stunning nor a sister!”
“Yet you are both.”
“What did I do to deserve this? I was falsely accused of a crime and betrayed by the woman I wished to marry. Everything I love is gone, and I am left in this weak husk.”
Caden gripped Rose's arm. "How could the Goddess allow this? Can you tell me? Can you?”
Rose shook her head. “Why does it rain in this field and not that? Why does lightening strike here and not there?”
“That's no answer! Selene could have saved me but she didn't! She hates me! She's evil! Wicked!”
Rose's slap across Caden's face echoed between the stonewalls.
“Snap out of it! I made it through this and so will you!”
Caden's hand flew to her cheek, but she stopped shaking.
“But why? Why me?”
“I am no philosopher,” Rose shrugged. “I tend a garden now. Before that, I was a soldier. If Mother Cunedda were here, she would tell you Selene's gift of free will to man prevents the Goddess from interfering with man's choices. She would also say Selene ever works to soften the pain that befalls us and provides us with many paths.”
“The real question is…” Rose grabbed Caden's shoulders and straightened her up.
“…what will you do now?”
21.
“...and the high council dithers and twiddles their thumbs, unable to pass the simplest resolutions.” Gwyneth said. She, her sisters, and Cunedda were gathered around one of the large black iron kitchen stoves, watching the first bag steep in hot water.
“The military is much the same,” Rhonwen joined in, “for with Father barricading himself in his hunting lodge, his generals are like headless chickens, spinning in circles.”
“Everyone is,” Carme said. “If war is coming, we must be ready. There will be injured soldiers. Refugees seeking shelter. Yet our healers are scattered across the kingdom, hunkered down for the winter.”
“More than that,” Laelia said, “the people have heard the rumblings of war, and of a mysterious tragedy to prince Caden that has driven their king from the city. They need to know someone leads them.”
Cunedda looked from one princess' face to the next and smiled. “That was an excellent briefing, ladies. Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“What do you mean? What can we do about it?” Gwyneth said. “As princesses, our single power seems to involve pushing out screaming little male heirs from between our legs.”
“Oh?” Cunedda put a hand on her hip. “Who says so?”
“Succession has always passed through the males in Glamorgan, though…” Gwyneth's forehead wrinkled. “I cannot recall the specific law establishing it.”
“It's time, don't you think?” Cunedda said.
“What do you mean?” Rhonwen said. “Time we … change this?”
“No, I meant it's time to drop the second bag in the water,” Cunedda said, and did. “But why not? Why don't you?”
“Because we are women and they-”
Carme never finished the sentence, because Cunedda's eyes flashed blue fire; and they felt her energy, her wrath, rising like a hot wind.
“-Yes! We are women. Best to start acting like it, instead of daddy's little girls. If you wait for them to give you power, you will turn old and feeble. Act now! You are Glamorgan Princesses! Your country needs you. The Western Reaches need you! Assume what power you need and let them try to pry it from you!”
The sisters were silent, blinking at one another, until Gwyneth spoke.
“It's that simple? Just …act?
“Nothing could be simpler. But note, I did not say it would be easy.”
Cunedda's eyes returned to normal hue and she took a whiff of the steeping brew.
“Ah. This is ready. Carme, would you put this just inside Caden's door? Rose will take it from there.”
Carme nodded. “How will this brew help change Caden back?”
Cunedda shook her head. “It will not.”
“Then what?” Rhonwen said. “What is its purpose?”
“I will be honest with you about why I came here. Selene has shown me two visions, two possible futures. One, in which the Glamorgan kingdom falls and its people are enslaved and oppressed by Arcum masters.”
“No!” Gwyneth cried. “We cannot allow this-”
Cunedda raised her hand. “In my other vision, I saw the Glamorgan princesses banding together to lead their country through the storm and stop the Arcum invasion. Five princesses, working together.”
“Five? Caden is to be one of us? But she will never-”
Rhonwen stopped, as an 'ah ha!' look crossed her face. “That is why you brought Rose, to help Caden accept what has happened.”
“In all the kingdoms, Rose is uniquely qualified, save perhaps, for the elfin maiden Kiara Esmee,” Cunedda said.
“There had better be powerful magic in this,” Carme said as she grabbed two cups and the teakettle. “Because Caden will kill herself rather than accept what she has become.”
“To be honest, most of the magic is in my little Rose,” Cunedda said with a wink. “I swear the girl has become part wood nymph.”
“I need you to trust me.”
“But what will this do?”
Rose poured the steaming liquid into a cup and handed it to Caden.
“Sometimes a question can't be tackled head on, but must be approached …sideways.”
“I don't understand,” Caden said, before she sipped the tea. “Blah!”
“Not the tastiest of brews,” Rose said, when she drank from her cup. “Now, I expect your mind is telling you all is lost. Over and over in your brain, you think 'I am cursed, my life is over.'”
“I have thought nothing else since my change,” Caden nodded, managing to down another swallow.
“I was the same. When I first learned the deeper earth magic, I had to close my eyes and feel my way to the essence of the herb I sought. I was constantly smacking into trees…”
Rose rubbed her forehead, making Caden snort.
“…but I found my answers, when the direct didn't work. And I learned a bigger truth, that this,” Rose tapped Caden's head, “doesn't always know best.
“And the tea helps …how?”
“You'll see; it will also give you a good night's rest, which you sorely need.”
“But you drink the tea too. Why?”
“Shhh, no more questions; now lay your head here…” Rose reclined on the bed and drew Caden down so that she lay against her chest. She yawned her next words. “…because this hits really fast.”
Later, Cunedda entered the room, to find them asleep, with Rose cradling Caden close. She covered them with a blanket and stroked Caden's cheek.
“Dream large, Caden, and open yourself to Her.”
Before she blew out the lamp, Cunedda kissed Rose on her head.
“Guide her well, love.”
22.
In the morning, when Cunedda entered Caden's room, she found the young woman bubbling and babbling.
“You are just in time, Mother,” Rose gave Cunedda a sleepy lopsided grin. “Caden has started to tell me of the most amazing dream she had.”
“Yes! Yes! I saw Her! She sang to me!”
“Thrice blessed you are,” Cunedda said, sitting on the bed next them. “Tell me of it.”
It seemed so real! You were there, Rose, and you led me into a grove of mighty oaks. Above us, stars twinkled in the night sky, but they swirled around your head, and I think mine too. That's when I heard Her singing.”
Caden paused, unable to speak, for she heard the music's echo in her head. Tears formed in her eyes.
“I know, love,” Cunedda took her hand. “Once you hear her call, you are never alone, for She is with you, always.”
Caden nodded and turned to Rose. “Then you pointed up, and when I looked, the brightest moon was there, so close I tried to touch it. I blinked, and the moon was gone, but a woman stood before me ...clothed in a robe of blue and silver, wearing a wreath of stars, and …and …Her eyes ...the light ...I ...I don't have words to describe Her.”
“No words can.” Cunedda's eyes glistened. “What happened next?”
“Rose dropped to her knees, and pulled me down too. Then the Goddess kissed her on the head and handed her a dry black rose.”
Caden turned to Rose. “And when you took it in your hands, it was alive! It became most beautiful rose in the world.”
Rose smiled. “And then?”
Caden sighed. “She kissed me, saying, 'you gave yourself to me, daughter, and I am honored. Now show your nature.”
I looked at my hands then; blue sparks surrounded them and they tingled with power. And I knew there was something I needed to do ...longed to do ...but I didn't know what. And then I woke up.”
Caden looked at Rose and Cunedda. “What does this mean?”
“What do you think it means?” Cunedda said.
Caden was silent a moment. “For Rose, it meant she has found her calling; she brings things to life.”
“A fair interpretation,” Cunedda nodded. “And what of your role in the dream?”
“I...” Caden frowned. “There is something I need to learn, isn't there? The Goddess was telling me ...that like Rose, I …have a path to follow.”
Then her shoulders slumped. “In this body. I'm ...not to change back.”
“It would seem so, Caden. You are Goddess called. Having heard her song, can you ignore it?”
“No, it would be easier to stop breathing,” the dark-haired girl shook her head. “But ...how do I ...how do I live like this? I know nothing about being a woman. How did you do it, Rose?”
Rose smiled. “I had a hundred Selenes who were more than happy to prod, poke and pound me. You have the same resources; ask you sisters for help.”
Caden's voice was soft, plaintive. “I didn't want this …I didn't choose this…”
“Yet here you are.”
“I don't know if I can do it. This is going to be so hard.”
“Yes,” Rose answered. “The hardest thing you've ever done. This ecstasy you feel now will fade, and there will be many many days when jumping off a cliff will sound appealing; believe me, I know. But don't.”
“Take it from a fellow former prince.” Rose took Caden's hand in hers and squeezed it. “Something amazing waits for you, if you have the courage to seek it.”
“I…” Caden straightened her back and looked Rose in the eye. “I. will. try... but I wish ...I wish you could stay and help me find it.”
“Me too, but I can't; my place, and my love, wait in Selene's Garden at the edge of wild Elmete. Yet when doubt threatens to overcome you, look on this, and remember.”
Rose brought forth something she had hidden behind her back; the reddest rose Caden had ever seen. Caden's hands trembled when she took it; she brought it to her nose to smell.
“This …is no wizard's trick; this is real! None should be growing in the heart of winter! Where did you get this?”
“Why Caden! You know well, for you were there, when She gave it to me.”
End Part 6.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (pdfs of those stories can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Duty and Destiny - Part 7
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
 |
duty and destiny
part 7 by armond |
The Ace of Wands signifies new beginnings, and new ways of looking at things. A new way of life is at hand.
23.
“I'm scared.”
“Caden, they're your sisters, not tripled headed hydras,” Rose said, as she, Cunedda and Caden walked the Celyn Castle halls.
“I'd rather face the hydras,” Caden said, as they arrived at the entrance to the small dining room. “What will I say? What if they don't like what I've been changed into? What if-”
“-It's just breakfast, sweetie,” Rose said. “If you're stumped for conversation, eat a pancake; I know you are hungry. I heard your stomach growling when I bathed you.”
But what if-”
Cunedda put a finger to Caden's mouth, opened the door and said, “Go, child!”
Caden nodded, and took two tiny steps in and stopped. She felt eight eyes scanning her, and looked downward. She wasn't wearing a dress, but the over-sized page shirt and legging seemed almost as bad. She shuffled to the vacant seat between Rhonwen and Carme and sat.
Caden hadn't the slightest idea what she should say, or where to start. Should she laugh? Cry? Introduce herself?
Instead, she turned and thwacked Rhonwen on the arm.
“Hey! What was that for?” Rhonwen said.
“All those years I've been smacked on the arm, I thought, since I'm a girl now too, a little payback was needed.”
“But why did you hit me?” Rhonwen said.
“Because you hit the hardest.”
“I still do,” Rhonwen said, and punched Caden's arm. “What are you going to do about that?”
“Oh, I don't know,” Caden said, with a sly grin.
She took her spoon, scooped a little oat porridge, and launched it at Rhonwen. Who ducked, causing the oat goo to splatter Gwyneth's face.
“You are so going to pay for that,” Gwyneth said, and launched an egg in Caden's direction. Soon food was flinging back and forth between the princesses, followed by laughter. At some point, Caden's laughter turned to tears.
“Caden, are you okay?” Laelia said.
Ignoring the obvious, 'no I'm not, just look at me,' Caden instead scanned her sisters' eyes.
“I was scared about what you'd think about me… I know I've always been Dad's favorite and now I'm…” Caden sighed. “I don't know what I'm trying to say.”
“You thought we would extract our own payback now that you are one of us,” Gwyneth said, her eyebrows raised. “We knew that was Dad's problem, not yours. The thing we are jealous of is …how, erm, stacked you are.”
It took Caden a moment to figure out what Gwyneth meant. When she did, her face reddened.
“I hoped these…” She motioned to her chest.
“Breasts,” Rhownen said, “They're called breasts, among other things.”
Caden reddened further. “I'd hoped they only seemed big.”
“Oh, no, the Goddess was extra generous with you,” Carme said.
Caden's eyes looked down. “I need your help. I feel so lost and-”
They were on her in a second hugging and kissing her.
“These are dark times, sister,” Gwyneth said, “and we Glamorgan princesses, all five of us, must stand to fight the storm. But today, just today …we will have a 'Princess Club Meeting' in my room.”
Caden knew their code words; a 'Princess Club meeting' meant slumber party, to which, as a young boy, she was barred. But now…
Caden blanched. “What will we do?”
“Oh, sweetie, you ought to be scared!” Rhonwen said. “You are getting the crash course!”
At some point, Rose and Cunedda slipped from the room. They gathered their traveling bags and headed to the Castle stables for their mounts.
Rose looked back down the hallway to the dining room. Cunedda saw her expression.
“What's wrong, dear?”
“She is opening herself, and they are there for her, but…” Rose bit her lower lip. “Did I do enough for her? Was there something else I could have said, some other bit of advice that would have helped her more?”
When she saw Cunedda's face, Rose scowled.
“Don't you dare give me the 'all-knowing High Priestess' look; I'm so worried for her!”
“And that's why I'm giving you 'the look'. Don't you think I have the same worries? About when I changed you, or any thousand other times, when our sisters ask gut-wrenching no win questions and expect me to have the answers. How do you think they would take my advice if I wore my 'I'm clueless too' expression?”
“Oh, great …so it's a practiced look? And -now I'm really confused- …why are you telling me this?”
Cunedda took Rose's face and turned it to hers.
“Lilly is such a wondrous and loving daughter; between the two of you, I am the most blessed woman in Argentia. But one thing she is not is a leader. And you are, love.”
Rose scanned her mother's eyes and stammered, “I'm not sure I understand.”
“I'll spell it out. One day, you will be the High Priestess, Rose, and you will need to have 'the look' too. I'd start practicing it now.”
Rose's mouth gaped, but no words came out.
“I've actually left you speechless!” Cunedda spread her arms wide and looked up. “Eternal praise to you Selene! Of all your miracles, this must be the most amazing!”
24.
A spark flashed, and ozone wafted into the air, but the collar remained firmly in place. Faolá¡n slammed his fist on the table.
“No, no, no!”
“Me-oooow”
“It's no use, Zoe, I will remain a slave forever, and …I deserve it.”
He could fool himself no longer; since he transformed Caden, his power was diminished. A karmic reaction, he thought, since he had rammed the changes on an innocent man. One who, in the end sacrificed his life so Faolá¡n could live.
“The one noble who turns out to be decent and I destroy him.” Faolá¡n shook his head for the ten thousandth time since that moment.
Or …maybe it was a case of his concentration being shot, for he could not, could not, could not get her image from his mind, that perfect peaceful face, framed in blue.
He sighed, rose, and walked to his window.
Below, all was noise and bustle, for the king had called the Muster, and the reserves flowed in from all of Parasia, wide-eyed farmers mainly. King Coel had ordered the army to march southward as soon as it reached strength, for Arcum forces were rumored to be marching north.
Faolá¡n saw none of this; his eyes were fixed to the west. The distance was too far, but still Faolá¡n imagined the pine-forested Glamorgan Highlands, green and shimmering. And he wondered, did she suffer? Did she curse his name? How could she not?
His head pulsed and pounded, but after a moment, he realized, it was someone knocking at his door.
When he opened it, a woman greeted him, wearing a forest green dress with gold trim. Greeted him, with batting eyelashes.
“Princess Avila …is there something you need?”
“I've never been inside your inner sanctum,” Avila said, pushing past him into his chamber. “Is this where you turn people into frogs?”
If Faolá¡n was worried Zoe would hiss at Avila, he shouldn't have been; the feline didn't acknowledge the princess existed, choosing instead, to lick her paws.
“I don't turn people into frogs!”
“But Caden-”
“-was a mistake forced on me by your father. Still I should have refused. If I had been stronger…” Faolá¡n's hand went to his metal collar. Then he sighed. “Why are you here?”
Avila walked to Faolá¡n's window and peered out, first at the steady stream of men come to fight, then the cold afternoon sun.
“Everything has changed and is so dreadfully serious,” Avila said. “No one has time for me.”
Zoe mewed, and Faolá¡n struggled not to laugh, but his familiar was right; how could he have been smitten with someone so vapid?
“I'm young, okay? Give me a break!”
“Excuse me?”
“Um, sorry, I was speaking to …never mind.” Faolá¡n shot Zoe a dirty look, who, of course, ignored it. “We ready for war, Princess, people are going to die!”
“Can't you stop it? Cast a spell or something? Like you did with Caden?”
Faolá¡n blinked. “Are you serious? Is it your belief I have godlike powers? Why would I be enslaved if-”
“-And speaking of Caden, can you change him back? He's going to be so mad at what we did to him; he won't forgive me for the longest time, I bet.”
“Mad at …change him…” Faolá¡n was spluttering. “The transformation spell escalated far beyond anything I could control. I felt the Goddess' hand at work and-”
“-Change him back for me.” Avila took his hand in hers. “Please?”
“I can't change her back! My magics haven't worked right since I cast the spell!”
“You don't want to.” Avila yanked her hand back. “You're jealous of him.”
How would he answer that? In truth, he never thought of Avila at all now. He was riddled with guilt, and filled with new-found admiration for the former prince. And whenever he closed, her face waited for him.
“What don't you understand? I cannot. I'd be lucky to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
“Then what good are you?”
He stood looking at his door long after Avila had gone. Finally he trudged back to his table to sit again.
“She's right, you know; I'm too stupid a mage to free myself, and now I've destroyed the life of an innocent. I'm worthless.”
He lowered his face into his hands, and cried, until he felt a soft scratchy wetness on his hand.
“Meeeew.”
“Thanks, Zoe; s'kind of you to say. But you're hardly unbiased.”
Faolá¡n stood and walked to the window, to see the sun was not long from setting. The frenetic activity continued below, the steady stream of men and barking of orders. Above that din, the clanging of the blacksmiths' shops, as weapons were repaired and sharpened.
Faolá¡n heard and saw none of it, his gaze again captured by the Glamorgan horizon. On a whim, he took up his wizard's staff from the corner of his room, and pointed it toward the western kingdom.
“Forgive me Caden; may the Goddess guide you to find your way from the pit I've cast you in.” He closed his eyes and chanted:
He had thought his energy was gone, but the surge he felt was the strongest since he cast Caden's transformation spell. His staff glowed bright blue, and a dove, made of light, formed and flew off to the setting sun, and Glamorgan.
“Now that was interesting.”
25.
“The Ibion district reports 20 men, Actis 12, Egur 22, Seganul 31-”
“-Wait, did you say 12 for Actis?” General Gares said. He shook his head when the lieutenant confirmed the figure with a 'yes sir'.
“Damn, we are a quarter down in our numbers!”
Yet a little voice in the General's head wasn't upset at all; it said fewer to die.
The Muster Call continued with the same depressing trend, until the king and his retinue approached.
“Well, General? Are we at full strength?”
“No, sire, not nearly so. It will be another day at least before we-”
“-No, General, we will not wait another day; we move tomorrow,” Coel said. “Fortune favors the bold but-”
“-all good things come to those who wait, sire,” Gares said. “The extra men could make the difference, especially since we can count no help from Glamorgan.”
“I was going to say fortune favors the bold but abandons the timid,” Coel said, as he drew his cloak tightly about his body. The temperature had plunged with the setting sun.
“Our agents report the Arcum army has cleared Belldell Forest,” Coel continued, “and has entered Drachill Basin, which-”
“-Is well within Arcum's borders,” Gares said. “Though their likely destination is Westfalon, at present they can still claim to be 'on maneuvers'. If we cross the border to meet them, they will say we started this war.”
“Perhaps you have grown complacent since your retirement, my general? We know well Arcum's hand was behind the unfortunate incident with Caden; Gritha's intent is clear. He who hesitates is lost; and-”
“-you should look before you leap, Sire. This morning, all the carrier pigeons of one of our deep cover spies returned with no messages. That means he was discovered, perhaps in the process of trying to relay some key piece of information-”
“-I have spoken! Time and tide wait for no man, not even the extra cautious General Gares. We march at dawn.”
With that, the king strode to the palace, followed by his flock of courtiers. Gares shook his head as he watched them scurry back to their comfy palace hearths.
“Yet, sire, if we are to trade clichés that will place our men in harm's way, I would add one more; fools rush in where gods fear to tread.”
“General Baurdu reports the main body of our infantry is in position sire.”
“Very well, Captain Faro,” Gritha said, scratching his chin. “Any word on whether King Coel is taking the bait?”
“We think so; the Parasian Muster is underway, and-”
“-Think so? Captain, I will not operate on supposition, I need facts! Has the Glamorgan army crossed our borders?”
“No sire, but-”
Gritha slammed his hand down on the arm of his throne chair.
“No buts. I want you to ride to Baurdu and tell him to double his pace. That will draw old Coel down for sure.”
“Yet if he does, he will overshoot the location we have chosen to engage Parasia's troops,” Faro said.
“Exactly,” Gritha said, once again stroking his chin. “Tell Baurdu to first engage Gares to the north of where we planned. In that encounter, have our troops give way, and then retreat …to the original location.”
“Yes …yes!” Faro grinned. “We will suck King Coel's army down like a fly to honey. They will be chasing our troops …disorganized …and then we spring the Black Brigade on their rear guard for maximum destruction. Brilliant, sire.”
“I'm so glad you approve. Now go!” Gritha barked. “Tell Baurdu I will join our troops when I receive word Parasia has crossed our border.”
Captain Faro's exit was followed by Colonel Shalean entrance. Several cloaked figures accompanied Shalean, with Agent Vaego sandwiched between. Though he knelt before Gritha, Shalean's deep set eyes flicked back and forth around the throne room.
“Yes, Colonel?”
“Sire, I wish to report Agent Vaego discovered a spy on General Baurdu's staff.”
Gritha's eyes widened and his back straightened. “Blast! Are we compromised? Is all for naught?”
“No sire,” Vaego said, “I stopped the traitor before he could warn Parasia.”
Gritha regarded the speaker, and noted the man was so squatty, he couldn't tell whether he knelt or stood.
“Excellent! You are a true hero to Arcum. And what further information has the spy revealed under questioning?”
“Alas, nothing, sire, for Agent Vaego terminated the spy,” Shalean said.
“I killed the man, and released his pigeons,” the grinning Vaego nodded. “Let the Parasian pigs wonder at that!”
“Did you now?” Gritha sat back in his chair; his eyes darkened. “Do you realize, had you stayed your hand, we could have sent Parasia a false message, Agent Vaego?”
“Er, no, sire I-”
“-Or that the return of all the pigeons at once is a message of itself? A warning?”
“Um …no, sire …I didn't think …you see-”
“-Colonel Shalean, I'm searching for a word. What do we call someone who warns our enemies of our plans?”
Colonel Shalean grinned. “The word you are searching for is 'traitor', sire.”
“Yes!” Gritha clapped his hands together. “That's it.”
“No, sire!” Vaego started rise, but felt the strong hands of the cloaked men clamp his shoulders. “I wasn't trying to betray you! I acted in the heat of the moment; I took initiative, I-”
“Silence!” Gritha shouted, and stood. “Colonel Shalean, take our hero to the processing room in the dungeon, and show him the reward for exercising such …initiative.”
As Gritha exited the throne room, he heard Vaego's plaintive 'noooo' and smiled.
“Initiative indeed.”
26.
"Fold the left strand over into the center, catching the center strand underneath."
"Like this?"
"Perfect. Now, fold the right strand over into the center, and...
"...catch the center strand underneath. Got it."
After several minutes ticked by, Caden held up the end of her long black braid.
“What do I do with-”
Before she finished the sentence, Carme tied the end with a blue silk ribbon. Then she let the braid fall behind Caden's back.
“What do you think?” Laelia said.
Caden shook her head several times and sighed. “Goddess, this feels so much better. It was driving me crazy the way it laid on my neck.”
“No, silly, how do you think you look?”
Caden blinked at her reflection in Gwyneth's dressing table mirror, her four sisters smiling faces crowding her shoulders.
“Um …good?”
“Good?” Carme snickered. “Caden, you're gorgeous. This accentuates your cheekbones.”
“Gorgeous? I…” Caden sighed again, and not a happy one this time. “Assuming you are right, this is a lot of trouble to look 'gorgeous.' Why not cut it off and be done with it?”
After their shrieks died down, she held up her hands in defeat. “Alright, fine, I won't do it but …so far, everything about being a woman seems to involve tons of extra preparation.”
“You'll get used to it,” Gwyneth said, giving Caden a gentle swat to her head. “Welcome to our world. Now, I hate to interrupt your 'lessons', but it's time for a much needed 'planning session', so; everyone over to my sitting room.
Caden hopped up from the dressing table stool and followed her sisters out of Gwyneth's bedroom and to a chamber room filled with sofas and chairs.
“When will our guest arrive?” Gwyneth said, looking at Rhonwen.
Rhonwen turned to a window and squinted. “At dusk, so he should arrive soon.”
“Guest? He?” Caden gulped.
“Don't fret, Cadie, it's no one that hasn't already seen you,” Rhonwen said. “It's Jaussen. He's going to give us a briefing on …the state of things.”
“Cadie!” Laelia squealed. “I love it. That's so much better than calling you Caden.”
“Laelia! Focus!” Gwyneth growled. “And Cadie, just so you know, Rhonwen has her eye on Jaussen, so he is off limits.”
“Sorry?” Caden said.
“She means, Jaussen is spoken for,” Carme said.
“I'm …still not following what you mean.”
“We mean, hands off, no touchie, Jaussen is Rhonwen's,” Laelia said.
Caden's forehead scrunched as she tried to figure out what they were telling her. Her eyes widened when she did.
“Are you saying I'd …that he and I would…” Her mouth flopped open. “If you think that I could ever, be interested in a man romantically, you are sadly mistaken. Need I remind you I was one just days ago?”
“Not good enough, sweetie,” Rhonwen said. “The 'sister pact' is what keeps peace and unity among the Glamorgan princesses. You feel this way today, but tomorrow? We need to know you are with us.”
Caden rolled her eyes. “Fine whatever. I swear, by Selene and all that is holy, that I will never …um …poach …a man any sister has claimed. Good enough?”
“A bit more formal than needed, Cadie, but yeah, that works,” Rhonwen said. “And we swear the same to you.”
When her other sisters voiced their agreement, Caden shook her head. “That will be a promise easily kept, because I will never be interested in a man that way.”
Before any sister could provide a crushing reply, they heard a knock at Gwyneth's door.
“Ah, the man himself; his ears must be stinging,” Gwyneth said. “Jaussen? Come in; it's unlocked.”
“…as yet unconfirmed. But my gut instinct tells me Arcum's invasion army is marching to engage King Coel's forces on the flats of the Drachill Basin.”
“Does that make sense, Jaussen?” Rhonwen said. “Arcum's strength is not in its infantry.”
Caden saw the flicker of attraction in the young spy's eyes when he glanced at Rhonwen. Yet she saw nothing but indifference from her auburn haired sister. She leaned to Gwyneth and whispered,
“Are you sure Rhonwen likes him?”
“Oh Cadie, you have so much to learn; now, pay attention.” Gwyneth whispered back.
“To which? Jaussen's briefing or the little dance between the two?”
“As your head is no longer ruled by your missing 'little head,' you should be able to pay attention to both. Now, sshhhh.”
“I agree, Princess,” Jaussen said to Rhonwen. “It is odd for Arcum to play to Parasia's strength.”
“We need better information,” Rhonwen said. “And so I will ride south within the hour to learn what I may.”
“What?! Are you insane? I forbid it!”
“Oh?” Rhonwen stood and moved close to the broad shouldered man. “Have you recently been promoted to king?”
“Er, no, princess, but it is unthinkable to consider allowing you to go.”
“I rather think you have no say in whether I come or go, good sir,” Rhonwen said, flashing a wicked grin.
“Then, if you insist on following this mad course, I will accompany you,” Jaussen said.
“Be careful sister. We know how dearly Arcum would love to get its hands on a Glamorgan princess.”
“But I won't be a princess. Merely a peasant girl and her husband traveling south for work. Come Jaussen, we've preparations to make before we leave.”
Caden watched open-mouthed as the couple left. “Are all men maneuvered so easily?”
“No, but a man in love is,” Gwyneth said, staring after the couple as well.
“This is insane, Gwyneth! How can you let her go? She's-”
“-A helpless female? Is that what you were going to say, sister?” Gwyneth put a hand on her hip. “Perhaps later we shall play that role. For now, the High Priestess has charged us with different roles, and by Selene we will do them!”
She turned to Carme and Laelia.
“Come! We have work to do. There are several ancient pacts I need to consult, for tomorrow I confront the council. We must order the Muster, and if they will not or cannot make the decision, then I will!
You two have chores as well, for when the Muster is called, we will need food and shelter for our troops. An encampment must be set up for them; start with the quartermaster.”
“And what of me?” Caden said softly.
“Cunedda said you have a part to play, too, though I don't know what,” Gwyneth said. “You've been through so much already. Why don't you rest for a while; take some time, and try to get used to your new self.”
Caden shook her head. “All my life, it's been my duty to serve Glamorgan, training to lead her one day. Since before I could walk I knew this was my task; I never once considered doing anything else. Now that is gone, and I feel so …weak and useless.”
Her sigh was heavy as she walked to Gwyneth's window to gaze on the evening star.
“In my dream, the Goddess asked me to show her my nature, and I couldn't. I don't know what it is!” Caden looked at her trembling hands, and then grasped the stone window sill to cry into the dusk,
“Please Selene, at least show me the first step I must take!”
A bright bird of purest white flew in the window and sat on Caden's shoulders. She sang a sorrowful song, that brought tears to Caden's eyes. When the dove finished, she flew up into the night. Caden watched the bird join the stars as one of their lights.
When she turned back to her sisters, her face was pale. “Well, that answers that.”
“Holy Selene, what message did she give you?” Carme managed to whisper.
“There is a man who dies from the loss of a beloved son. I am to go to him and mend his broken heart.”
“What man?” Laelia said.
“Father.”
end part 7.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter (a pdf of After Winter can be found here.) duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Author's note 2: Since reader interest has been a bit tepid, I'm not sure if I'll post the final chapters here. I'm posting an 'in progress' version of Duty and Destiny 8 here, if you are interested.
Duty and Destiny - Part 8
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
 |
duty and destiny
part 8 by armond |
The Two of Swords represents the fulcrum between the still and moving; it is the hurricane's eye.
27.
Well, General? What think you now?"
Gares frowned, when he should be grinning; after all, Parasia had just routed Arcum in their first clash.
The Drachill Basin spread before him; threatening to swallow everything with its vast flatness. Winter’s blight had transformed the plain into depressing gray nothingness. At least spring and summer brought tall green grasses and roaming bison.
Gares scanned the horizon with his “spyglass” trying to extract as much battle intelligence as he could. Even with the makeshift tower his engineers had constructed, the Basin yielded little hard evidence.
The old general sighed, and lowered his distance viewer. He wasn't troubled that his king had ignored his council and ordered the army to engage Arcum’s forces; at his age, his ego simply didn't care. No, what disturbed him was how easily the victory had been — Arcum’s front line collapsed before the Parasian assault, and the entire Arcum army fled south, deeper into the Basin.
He wasn't troubled that his king had ignored his council and ordered the army to engage Arcum’s forces; at his age, his ego simply didn't care. No, what disturbed him was how easily the victory had been — Arcum’s front line collapsed before the Parasian assault, and the entire Arcum army fled south, deeper into the Drachill Basin.
"I say we retire to our side of the border, and wait to see if they try to return for more."
"Gods, man!" King Coel nearly screamed. "Carry the battle to them! Don't let them bring it to you ...isn't that what all great generals do?"
"Sire. We are still not yet at full strength, and many of our recruits don't know a sword's tip from its handle. Let us-"
"-No! I will not let this victory slip away! Order your men to follow!" The king turned turned to one of the many servants that constantly trailed after him; a pudgy lad with bland face. "You, Garvin! Ride to the palace and tell the court to join us on the field."
Gares' jaw dropped. "Sire! This is not a sport to be applauded by coutiers! Men are dying!"
"You saw the Arcum dogs crumble before us; I would not deprive my ministers of the chance to see our army victorious," Coel said, waving him away. "You know, I am glad we will prevail without Glamorgan's help. Though I regret what happened to Prince Caden, at least I shall be able to deal with Rhys from a position of strength."
Gares stood silent long after King Coel had left his side. Then he turned to his attaché.
"Call an emergency meeting of my senior staff, Malcom. For we have new orders to follow."
And a king who is unfit to rule, Gares thought. We must plan what we will do about that, also, or it will be our death.
28.
“May I suggest a smaller steed, Princess? One more appropriate to your size?”
The formal voice caught her by surprise, causing Caden to look hard on her childhood friend. Her first thought was that if his beard and moustache ever managed to fill in, he would carry a 'gravitas' that would grab people and make them listen.
“Cedrick! It's me! Stop calling me princess! I'm the same person who suffered with you under the odious Sir Willian when we trained as squires.”
“As you wish, ma'am." The young cavalryman’s jaw clinched and he looked down. "Though I fear my brother-in arms who goes by that name is dead.”
Caden blinked away wetness; had she lost her friends too? Would that she could travel alone to her father's hunting lodge in the highlands -as she had countless other times in the past- but Gwyneth told her that, for a young woman, it was not an option.
“Shall I saddle your mount then?” Cerdick said.
Caden's hands clinched into fits. “No one saddles Llamrei but me; no one!”
Cedrick's eyes widened, and Caden thought she saw a glimmer of recognition from her friend, but then he looked down.
“As you wish, ma'am. Call me if you need help.”
"I? Need help? With Llamrei? It will be a cold day in Tartaros when that happens!”
Cadwen shoved her way past the tall cavalry soldier into the stables. A familiar fragrance surrounded her; of straw, leather saddles and tack, horses, dust, and a dash of manure. For a moment, she forgot everything else ...and felt at home.
Then she froze before Llamrei's stall: what if she doesn't know me either?
Even with the vision the Goddess sent her, even with Rose's good counsel, if that happened, Caden wasn't sure she could go on. Her hands shook when she approached the milk-white mare, because Llamrei looked with those wide blue eyes.
Brown eyes were the color of most horses, yet every now and again one was blue. Caden had never remembered her mare's eyes this blue; though, though seemed to glow. Somehow Caden found her voice.
“Hey, girl, I know you don't recognize me, but, um ...I'm me, I mean, Caden, er...”
Llamrei nickered a bright hello, then nuzzled Caden's face before she could speak another sound. Caden threw her arms around Llamrei's neck and pressed her cheek against her dearest friend. Her throat had tightened, but she managed to sob a 'thank you.' Llamrei neighed her response.
“You're right, we don't have all day,” Caden said, lifting her head.. Then she stepped back to look at her horse. “Cedrick has a point; I've lost a dozen inches in height.”
Llamrei nodded her head and neighed again
“Right,” Caden answered, “my old saddle it is then, and-”
Her mouth dropped open. “Llamrei! You’re talking to me!”
Llamrei nickered again, reducing Caden to stutters.
“You've a-always t-talked to me? But ...but ...how is it I understand you n-now?”
Caden put her hand on her hip at Llamrei's snorted reply.
“Oh? I've gotten smarter as I've gotten prettier? Insane is more like it; I mean, I’m talking to my horse.”
“You’re not a horse but my …familiar?” Caden said in answer to a whinny. "But familiars only come to people with magical power, like wizards or healers, or…”
Caden looked down at her hands, which briefly glowed blue.
“Blast and bother! I’m magicked, aren't I?”
Caden’s hand went back to her hip when Llamrei let loose a series of whinnies.
“Well I’m glad someone thinks it’s funny. Shall we saddle and bridle now?”
Llamrei neighed and whined several sentences to Caden, and the young woman turned paler.
"It ...cuts you? Oh, Llamreii! All these years, I had no idea!"
Caden fell to the straw before her mare. "I'm so sorry."
Llamrei whispered something and gently cuffed the back of Caden's head with her muzzle. Caden rose and stroked Llamrei."
"Thank you, I don't deserve your forgiveness. I promise I will never fail you again."
“My distrust of you grows by the minute, Lady, for Prince Caden would never deign to use a bosal. No true Glamorgan cavalryman would.”
“I'm using a bosal because Llamrei told me that a bit rips the inside of her mouth, and...”
Caden sighed. She saw the set of Cedrick's face; he would look more kindly on her if eels wriggled from her mouth.
“We haven't the time to waste for me to convince you, sir. War comes and Glamorgan needs her king. Will you and your men accompany me, or shall I ride alone?”
Cedrick looked to the sky; the gray clouds told him another storm was here.
“But surely we would be prudent to wait until the foul weather passes. Remember, winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail.”
Caden growled; there was no time for this! She leaned close to one of Llamrei's ears.
“The path to the hunting lodge will be hard, for every mile is two in winter," Caden whispered. Will you allow me to ride you?”
“Thank you," Caden said, after Llamrei neighed. She vaulted onto her saddle.
“Cedrick? Catch me if you can. Llamrei ...fly!”
Llamrei reared on her hind legs and trumpeted a neigh. Then she and Caden galloped away toward the Highland mist.
29.
General Baurdu scanned the scene before him; the Drachill Basin was so uniformly flat, that even this tiny hill gave him a commanding view of the plain.
“Captain, is the force bearing down on us the main Parasian infantry? The dust obscures their numbers from me.”
Captain Elsuk peered into the distance. “We count both light and heavy elements, and we’ve identified the banners of all Parasian divisions, sir.”
“So …yes? We’ve lured the lot of them?”
Elsuk answered with a crisp ‘yes sir.”
“Excellent. Have the buglers blow halt, then formation. Send our banners forward. Once they reach the front, sound advance. And send word to King Gritha that it has begun.”
“And the signal to the Black Brigade?” Elsuk said.
Baurdu scanned the skies; though a storm brewed in the far Glamorgan west, above the Basin the air was cold and clear.
“By the gods we are favored! For weather permits the mirror flash. Relay the message to the Brigade to begin their march; it is time to tighten the noose!”
30.
The three princess stood in the hallway before the massive council doors; Gwyneth brushed a hand over its rough surface.
Glamorgan aspen was not an easy wood to work with, she knew, for furniture other than rustic beds. But her great great grandfather, King Hywel, had demanded aspen be used. Aspens grew tall and straight, which for him meant it was an honest wood; honest and truthful. Hywel hoped this quality would rub off on his counselors when they walked through.
For a moment, Gwyneth, Carme and Laelia stood and listened, to the sonorous tones, filtering through the wooded doors. They tried to sense the mood of the kingdom's wise men; were they outraged? Determined? Purposeful?
Hywel had been shrewd, for the doors would not allow such lies to filter through. What the princesses clearly heard was fear. The Glamorgan counselors filibustered any action, because they hadn't a clue what next steps to take. And so they sought to wish away their fright through ponderous speeches.
"If words were arrows, then our council could protect us from any foe," Laelia hissed.
"But they are not arrows, only air, hot and useless." Gwyneth replied. She reached for the brass door handle. "I've heard enough; shall we?"
"I wish Roni and Cadi were with us," Carme said. "The High Priestess told us that the five princesses together must work to save our land."
"And we are!" Gwyneth said. "Roni understands how desperately we need to know what is happening between our foes. She also knows Jaussen would never allow her to travel alone. By dragging him with her, she moves our best spy into the field. And if anyone can rouse Father from his self-pitying sorrow it is Cadi. Our job is to make sure that when Father is here, and when we actually know what our enemies are doing, that we have a mobilized army ready to act."
"You make it sound so simple," Carme said, twirling a blonde curl.
"Simple, yes, easy, no," Gwyneth answered.
"What if they won't listen to us," Laelia said. "What if-"
Gwyneth whirled around, eyes flashing.
"Rhonwen is risking her life! And Caden, well ...what our newest sister is suffering is unimaginable, yet still she rides to reach Father. And you fear these grumpy old men? We are Glamorgan princesses! Show some backbone!"
At her growl, Laelia and Carme's faces reddened. But they threw back their hair and stood chin up and board straight.
"Now you've got it! Let's go!"
Gwyneth spun to the doors again and slammed them open.
All talking hushed and twenty wizened heads turned to the doors, twenty of the highest ranking nobles in Glamorgan.
"Princesses!" A silver-haired man called from a podium; he who wore the purple robes of the Glamorgan Pro Consul.
"We are honored by your presence. This may not be the time for a tour of the Chambers. We are in camera and-"
"-But you are not in session," Gwyneth said, in a voice that cut through the fog of rhetoric hanging in the air.
The Pro Consul huffed as he straightened his robes. "I beg your pardon, we most definitely-"
"You are not doing anything at all!" Gwyneth said, as she walked toward the podium. "I will speak to you now. I claim le roi droite."
"A thousand pardons," the Pro Consul patronized, "but as Princess, you have no standing to address this body, and certainly cannot invoke le roi droite."
"Point of order," Gwyneth answered, as she drew beside him. "Under the Covenant of Rayedge, in the absence of the King, the eldest heir speaks for the crown."
"Ah, you are mistaken, Princess." The Pro Consul's tone was condescension incarnate. "That Covenant only applies to male heirs, and quite clearly you are not-"
"-If you would actually read the scroll," Gwyneth answered, "you would find it is not gender specific. Master Scribe? Do you disagree?"
The head of the small man seated next to the podium slowly rose. When he blinked through his bottle thick spectacles, he grinned; Gwyneth had been one of his brightest students.
"The princess is correct, Pro Consul, the Rayedge Covenant did not specify male heirs."
"This is not acceptable, Princess" the Pro Consul snorted. "I must object-"
"-Not acceptable? Let me discuss exactly what is not acceptable. The armies of Parasia and Arcum are on the move, yet we have precious little intelligence of what is happening. Princess Rhonwen rides south with Officer Jaussen as we speak. She risks her life to do so. Princess Caden rides-"
Murmuring erupted at the mention of her new sister's title. Gwyneth allowed it for no more than a few moments, before she hammered the podium with the Pro Consul's gavel; she had already edged him out of the way.
"Don't feign ignorance! Jaussen gave this body a full report of how Caden was changed at the hand of King Coel's wizard. It was an act of war against Glamorgan that this Council has managed to ignore these past days. To say she suffers would be an understatement most laughable. Yet instead of grieving in her room as any normal human would after such a traumatic transformation, she has ridden into the teeth of a Highland blizzard to fetch our king down from his mountain hideaway."
Carme and Laelia joined Gwyneth, and flanked their sister at the podium. Their eyes scanned the councilmen.
"I know my sisters," Carme said, in a clear voice. "Rhonwen will return with news of our enemies. Will our troops be ready to act?"
"And Caden will return with King Rhys," Laelia joined. "With our enemies at our doorstep, how will you explain our lack of preparation to our king?"
As their words sank in, the councilmen turned pale green.
"But what are we to do?" the Pro Consul said. "We've always been guided by the king's firm hand. What. Will. We. Do?"
A grin spread across Gwyneth's face. She had them! The council was hers.
"I will tell you..."
end part 8.
Author's note: This story is set in the same world as two earlier stories I have written called The Necessity of Winter, and After Winter duty and destiny follows After Winter by three years. A map of the Argentian Western Reaches (where this story takes place) can be seen by clicking here. A cast of characters (evolving) can be seen by clicking here.
Fragrance
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Taxonomy upgrade extras:
Fragrance
by Armond
Fragrance
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Fragrance,
by Armond
Kipling once said "smell is surer than sight or sound."
At GenTech Labs, Sidney Edwards cannot trust his eyes nor believe his ears.
He'll have to rely on the forgotten sense to survive.
Smell is surer than sight or sound. - Kipling
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here
Part 1.
MONDAY, 8:00 A.M. - GENTECH CORPORATION HEADQUARTERS, MAIN LOBBY.
A barrage of perfume, cologne, and ‘natural’ scents slammed me, as it did every time I stood in a crowd. Such diversity! Yet I ‘scented’ the commonality the GenTech workers shared as they scurried to their cubicles, was desperate boredom.
Desperate boredom doesn't have a scent, you say? Ah! To amend the good bard's word's: 'There are more scents in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'
Okay, things are dire if I’m mangling Shakespeare at this screaming early hour. It's 8:00 a.m., and I'm standing like a rock in a stream of business casual GenTech workers, looking for my contact. Finally, I spot her: a frantically waving cheery-faced woman who has HR written all over her.
“Mr. Edwards?”
“Yeah. Joni MacKenzie?”
“The same. Good to put a face with a voice; you're taller than I expected.”
Was that a compliment or an insult? I mean, was she saying I looked athletic, or that my phone voice was wimpy? I shrugged and pressed on.
“Please, call me Sidney.”
“Very well. And you can call me Joni. So you're on site how long, Sidney?”
“Eighty-eight hours, give or take a few minutes.”
I could tell by Joni's ‘deer-in-headlights’ glaze she wasn’t in the loop about my visit.
“Sorry, I'm out of here Wednesday night, Thursday morning latest. Any longer and I turn into a pumpkin.”
“Too bad you're not here for our Founder’s Ball Thursday night,” the portly woman said, oblivious to my humor attempt, “Napa Valley Catering is handling, so there’ll be a river of wine -well two rivers, white and red- ‘Innocence Mission’ is playing, and tons of schwag.”
Before I could ask what the hell ‘schwag’ was, Joni grabbed my elbow and herded me toward a long corridor.
“Follow me,” she said, her voice chirpy in a way only HR reps can be. “The Diversity video starts in five, then it's Careful Communications.”
“Are you sure I need this training? I'm just here for a few days.”
“Yes, Sidney, at GenTech, we ARE compliance. Where will you be working?”
“Building A, I think; Dr. Carter is meeting me at 10:30 out front to take me over.”
“What?! Are you sure?”
As I confirmed with a nod, I saw this information troubled Joni.
“Building A. The Biogenetics building. The Wonka Factory.”
“Think so. That’s where the MASG tests are being run, right? I’m the test subject. Why's it called the Wonka Factory?”
Joni looked from side to side and lowered her voice. “It’s where the Umpa Lompas work, and things go bump in the night.”
“Hmm! Looks like I've got a golden ticket, then, because that's where I'll be.”
“That’s another weird thing, you’ll be the first man in Building A, ever; not even Watchers go there.”
“Watchers?” I'd lived abroad for the last few years, but I didn’t think English could have changed that much in my absence. Perhaps Joni was speaking in tongues.
“Spooks. Security. There’s an army of ‘em here at Gentech.”
She grabbed my arm again and spoke even lower.
“I don’t know how well you know Carter, but watch out for her. She runs Building A like it's a hive and she's queen bee. You don’t fit the template of someone who would be welcomed there.”
“Why?”
Joni was squeezing my arm hard now. “Something’s going on over there. Something bad. I don’t know what. Rumor is they’re all lesbian bitches…”
I could only blink at her; absolutely no responses came to mind, which was a rarity for me. Maybe she’s the one needing Careful Communications training?
“… and hate anyone not in a skirt,” Joni continued. “I'm guessing that item of clothing is not in your suitcase?”
“Now that you mention it, I do happen to-”
“-Last warning! Do whatever they’ve hired you for, and get the hell out!” Joni said, and turned to chug down one of GenTech’s sterile hallways. Her voice was chirpy again. “Come along; riveting training videos await your viewing pleasure.”
MONDAY, 10:30 A.M. — GENTECH LOOP DRIVEWAY, CORPORATE HEADQUARTERS TOWER
“Hey, stud, up for a spin with an old cougar?”
I turned to the voice, and when I spotted Julia, waving from a golf cart, I felt a goofy grin cross my face.
“Sure, babe,” Then I cupped my hands to my mouth to form a megaphone. “You got any diseases, Jules? Want some?”
“Shhh!” Julia said, looking mortified. “You win; I was insane to start an insult war with you.”
“Surrender accepted.”
Julia jumped from the cart and gave me a huge hug. After we unclasped, I took a long look at my friend.
The years had been kind. Yes, her short hair was streaked with gray, and wire rim bifocals perched above her nose. But her bright eyes told me her passion for her work burned bright. And she still had the aroma of cinnamon.
I worked as a summer intern and test subject for Dr. Carter years ago, doing sensory research at her old MASG project before funding dried up. So long ago, I couldn’t remember what the damned acronym stood for any more. ‘M’ was for memory, ‘S’, sensory and ‘G’, gene, but I hadn’t a clue about the ‘A’.
I’d kept up with Julia’s success since then; but of course, who on Earth hadn’t? Mind-blowing gene mapping and alteration work, culminating in a Nobel two years ago. After that, GenTech wrote her a blank check and whisked her away to head their genetics research group.
Julia climbed back into the cart, and the nanosecond I eased into the passenger seat, she popped the cart pedal, making the cart lurch forward.
“Hello? Bags?” I yelped, as I gripped the side of the cart.
“Already in your dorm room. Before we head to ‘A,’ I wanted to-”
“-Excuse me? Did you say ‘dorm room’?”
“Don't get your knickers in a twist Sid, it's more like a flat. Most GenTech drones live in the surrounding burbs, but the Biogentetics group is a closed community, and we all live on the top floors of the building; our quarters have living and kitchen areas too.”
“Yeah, what's with this Building A stuff? Joni said the oddest thing about the way you run it; like a kingdom or something.”
“That’s the HR rep you met this morning? I must have Deirdre chat with her about keeping her lips from flapping.” Julia’s scowl quickly disappeared. “Before I take you to said mystery building, how about a quick campus spin to get your bearings?”
When we wheeled away from the main tower building and onto a broad concrete walkway, I got my first full view of the GenTech campus; it was laid out in a wheel design, the tower as the center, three wide walkways -and the main entrance road- were the spokes, connecting a vast ‘wheel rim’ of Buildings A through H.
As we whizzed along I took a deep breath; the spring air smelled salty fresh. Julia slowed to point out a four-story all-glass building; through the ground floor windows, I saw people puffing away on fitness equipment.
“The fishbowl is G, Product Development. Burt ‘My pecker’s bigger than yours’ Thompson heads up that pack of piranhas.”
“Did you just say 'pecker' 'pack' and 'piranhas' in the same sentence? Is this what comes of winning the Nobel?”
“Shut up!” She thwacked my arm. “Burt’s an ally, actually. The main tower has a cafeteria, but knowing your snobby tastes, you’ll want to go to ‘G’ because it has a gym, small grocery store and the ‘GenTech Eats Healthy’ gourmet health food bar.”
“Holy crap, ‘GenTech Eats Healthy’? Pathetic! A trained monkey could come up with a better slogan. How about, ‘For haut cuisine that’s not passé, dine at GenTech’s Gourmet Café,’ or-”
“-Sidney!” Julia held up a hand. “Nobel recipient here? Jingles are not in my job description. Feel free to pitch some to whomever will listen when you go there. Now, between ‘F’ and ‘G’ is a gorgeous lake; folks kayak on it in the morning. And over there...”
We zipped along the path, until Julia braked the cart, and pointed to a pasture area between the buildings H and A.
“Here’s a hobby I’ve picked up since the last time you worked with me; for grins, GenTech let’s me keep a collection of exotic animals; miniature llamas, ostriches, and a herd of Shetland ponies.”
This was a surprise; I thought I knew her pretty well, but I'd never guess she had an offbeat fetish like this. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I defaulted to sarcastic.
“Um ...how Michael Jackson of you.”
“An indulgence,” Julia shrugged, “the ponies are adorable! I started the herd a year ago and just keep adding to it. We stable em behind the woods near Building B.”
An indulgence? Drinking a $100 bottle of red instead of one costing fifteen is an indulgence. Upgrading to a Corvette over an Impala is an indulgence. Raising a herd of Shetland ponies? That bizarre excess smacked of something else. The words irrational, extreme, and unbalanced sprang to mind before indulgence.
I counted nine of the small horses, swishing their long tails and munching spring grass. When I turned back to Julia, I saw her staring at the gentle animals, deep in thought.
“Did you know that Shetlands have roughly the same body mass as humans? Pretty carefree life. Believe me, there are days I wish I was one of them.”
A life of nothing to eat but grass? I don't think so. “Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“You’d be surprised what you can wish on your worst enemy, Sidney.”
I felt my eyebrows rise. That didn’t sound like my old Jules either. Had something changed in her? Still, my primary sense told me her core ‘goodness’ was true. So what if she was developing eccentricities, what of it? They way I figured, with all she’d achieved, she had earned the right to be a little weird. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t call her on it.
“Julia! How inscrutable. If you go all mystery woman on me, then I’ll ...I’ll dip into my flatulence joke bag. You remember that don't you?”
I was sure she did; the last time I headed down this path with her, my ‘gaseous winds’ monologue lasted a half-hour; each quip exponentially more stupid.
“I imagine you've acquired quite a pungent arsenal since we worked together.”
“A belch is but a gust of wind, that cometh from the heart, but should it take a downward trend, turneth into a fart.”
“No má¡s, I’ll stop with the cryptic, okay? I’m sure that was the tip of the iceberg.”
“Yup, but a whiff of my true cheese-cutting potential.”
Though Julia feigned dismay at my sense of humor, I knew she loved it.
She had battled her entire career; first, for respect, as a young female scientist. Next she fought -sometimes vicious- skirmishes with jealous peers at mid-career. Now that she had won a platform to advance her work, and had important work to advance, she was fighting a cold war with rival companies -and within her own as well- to hold on to all she’d earned through sweat and blood.
I imagine she had accumulated many enemies, a flock of loyal scientists who idolized and feared her, but …no friends.
Except me.
Eight years ago, when we worked together, I automatically treated her as if we were old chums, the best of friends. At first, she was stunned; no one had dared to joke with the uber serious scientist before, let alone unleash jokes about flatulence. Once she recovered from the initial shock, she became suspicious; what angle was I playing? Finally, when she realized I wanted nothing in return except her friendship, and after I wore her down with thousands of bad puns, she caved and we became friends.
Even though I never completed my college degree -which I knew disappointed her- we've stayed close; emailing, texting, calling, and even -heaven forbid- writing.
So yeah, my freakish sensory abilities are amazing and unique, and she did legitimately need me here to complete her old MASG work. But from a personal perspective? I bet she’s been looking forward to my visit for a long long time.
I know I had.
When we arrived at Building A, Julia led me inside to the elevator bank.
“Show time; are you ready?”
“Better be, I spent an hour signing waivers and releases. One sentence was -I kid you not- an entire page long.”
“Yeah, sorry kiddo, it's a lawyer’s world; we only exist to pay their fees.”
“I hope I don’t have to do it again,” I grinned about as wide as I could, “when they figure out I signed with a fake name.”
Julia palm-smacked her face. “What name did you use?”
“A fancy ass one I often use ‘across the pond,’ when I sign in at hotels,’” I snickered. “Juan Morefore de Rhode.”
“Juan Morefore-”
“-de Rhode. Get it? One more for the road!”
“Oh, God, the General Counsel will skin me alive. That’s not even close to a real name.”
“I know!” I was howling now; I truly amuse myself.
“I’ll have legal send over a fresh set of forms,” she said, as she reached up to thunk the back of my head. Then she grabbed a handful of my blond hair; it was much longer than the last time she'd seen it. “What’s with this?”
“When I agreed to your proposal, I went all in; bought clothes, let my hair grow out, and even bought make up.”
“Be still my heart! Are you actually taking this seriously? A gal can dream. Let's go then, the magic serum awaits in lab room A12.”
As she started to touch her ID badge hanging from her neck to a security sensor by the side of the elevator door, I reached a hand out to stop her; this didn’t make sense.
“It’s just us? Where are these Watcher guys? I heard Building A was Fort Knox or something.”
“We are our own security.”
My first thought was she was joking, but a look on her face told me otherwise. For just a moment, she looked ...well, I won’t sugar coat it, she looked deranged. Then it passed -I don't know; maybe it was the light- and she touched her badge to the sensor pad. She straightened, and a beam shot from an optical ball embedded above the pad; it scanned her left eye.
“Welcome Dr. Carter,” a pleasant female computer voice announced.
Julia motioned for me to touch my card to the pad as well. After the beam scanned my eye, the voice admonished:
“Retinal pattern not recognized. Verification incomplete. Await escort.”
“Retinal scans? Cool!”
“The security for the area you’ll be working in is not so stringent, but for the gene alteration lab? Oh honey, retinal scans are only the beginning! We still have voice pattern recognition, DNA ident, and rectal probe to go.”
“Rectal probe? You cannot be serious!”
“Gotcha! Woo, hoo! One for the good guys. Knowing how many gags you’ll inflict on us, it’s sweet to get a salvo in.”
“Hey! I’m not that bad-”
“-In comparison to who, Daffy Duck?”
The elevator doors dinged open, and I smelled roses.
The someone with the rose scent was five foot ten, wore a nameplate that read ‘Dr. Deirdre Rogers’, and looked like Kate Beckinsale in a lab coat and glasses.
“Sidney, I’d like you to meet Dr. Rogers. She’s my second in command…”
Second in command? What was this, a military organization?
“…and because GAP gobbles up so much of my time, I’ll only be able to oversee the MASG testing on a fly by basis. I’ve taken Deirdre off GAP while you are here to run your tests. I’m placing you in her capable hands. She’ll also be assisting me in your conversion.”
Two thoughts fought for primacy in my mind as I took in the information:
One — wasn’t there some sort of cosmic rule prohibiting egghead scientists from looking drop dead gorgeous?
Two — if looks could kill, she was definitely trying to send me to my grave.
MONDAY, 10:50 a.M., GENTECH BUILDING A, GAP GENETICS LAB A12.
I freely admit it. I'll shout it to the world. On top of my catalog of other glaring faults -bohemian slacker, never finishing anything- I am a world class wus. Needles scare the bejesus out of me, a temperature of 99 º sends me into whine mode, and if pain tolerance levels were a limbo contest, I'd win every time.
So, I was shaking as the team of white lab coats strapped me into a GAP stasis chamber.
“Hey, relax, tough guy,” Julia smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “You'll feel no pain; the anesthetic gas kicks in, you travel off to la-la land, and before you know it, we're waking up the new improved you.”
“I'm scared. What if I don't wake up? What if-”
Julia squeezed my hand again. “Hey, you. I won't let anything bad happen. If death comes a knocking, I'll turn him into a frog, alright?”
“’kay.” I blew out a small relief sigh. Knowing Julia, she just might.
She had been explaining the procedure to me for months and, intellectually, I knew everything would be fine, but thinking about the possibility of my death made me realize how little I'd accomplished in life. Almost twenty-seven years old and if Sidney Edwards left the world today, not an eye would blink.
The chamber door shut with a stark metallic -click- and I gazed on the world through a tiny glass window. I smelled the sweetness before I heard the gas hiss, and soon my brain melted to cotton candy and echos.
Before I fuzzed out, and after Julia smiled at me through the glass, Deirdre peered in too, and I swear the demon scientist's face had a look of sympathy. Or ...more than that ...caring?
Naw, had to be the gas.
MONDAY, 7:23 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A, GAP GENETICS LAB A12.
Murmuring.
Voices drifting in and out.
“...you've made your position clear and I overruled ...be a professional and...”
That sounded like …Julia? Why was she in my bedroom? And why won't she let me sleep?
No ...that's not right …I was ...she and I were ...doing something. What was it?
“...my job as your second to warn ...Edwards ...endangers Project Y...”
I knew her voice too. Dammit! It's on the tip of my tongue, which felt like it needed to be shaved. Started with a D. Deb ...no ...Deer...”
“...Sidney’s the only one who can validate my MASG research ...his olfactory abilities ... best I’ve seen...”
I remember! I'm at GenTech! Did it ...work? I’m thinking, sooo I must be alive, but why can't I move? So tired ...my eyelids feel like lead weights.
“...why this side show now when we are progressing Program Y as fast as we can and is GAP at breakthrough stage? ...competitors ...trying everything to steal data. ...already outed three spies ...is learning how men and woman sniff differently worth the risk?”
Deirdre! That's her name! She sounds pissed.
“The sensory experiment is more than that, Deirdre, and you know it. Great, with GAP, we’ve proven we can safely alter a person’s genes to make them into …well, anything. Just look at her! She's stunning...”
Wait …who’s stunning? Does she mean ...me?
“So yes, we’ve learned how to manipulate genes. But we know so little about why our genes make us we behave as we do. Answering that is vital for Project Y…”
Why are they standing around having a scientific debate while I'm paralyzed and stuck in this tube? C'mon, Julia, quit the mumbo jumbo and get me out of here! But no, Julia droned on.
“Imagine finding the most sensory sensitive male and female in the world and comparing their behavioral responses to a wide range of stimuli. Must have data? Absolutely! Still, any conclusions must be qualified, as two people will always input data differently, however slight that difference may be. Now imagine if you could conduct the experiment instead with a single sensory gifted person, first as a male, and then…”
Julia stopped talking and I felt her eyes on me. Dammit! Why can't I open my eyes?
“…Sidney’s unique; his sensory responses eight years ago are still unmatched, so this is a golden opportunity to conduct the tests with Sidney as a female.”
“-Conversion complete,” I heard the pleasant female computer voice announce. “Reversal countdown begins.”
Thank God! The stasis chamber unlatched, the door popped open, and cold air rushed in. Suddenly I was freezing, but I still couldn't move!
“Oh …my…” Julia said.
“She’s darling,” Deirdre gasped.
Darling? DARLING? What the hell do I look like?
“Amazing is more like it.” Julia's voice again. “She’s perfect; the computer model didn’t do her justice. Her hair is spun gold.”
A hand ran through my hair, another across my cheek.
“So soft,” Deirdre said, hoarsely. “Did you design the virus to make her look like this?”
“Nope. Unlike our other conversions, the vector we used for Sydney targets the sex chromosomes of every cell in the body. The Trojan virus inserts nanites into the nucleus of each cell, which replicate the X chromosomes and deactivate the Ys. So Sydney reverts to the woman she would have been had she been born female.”
“Your work is magic,” Deirdre said. “Look around, we are surrounded by technology so expensive, I get lost in the zeros; so secret, people kill for it. The elimination of diseases, birth defects, injuries, of aging itself - all within reach. Whole segments of the medical and health care industries will be obsolete, and that's for just for starters. Look what it did for me! You see why I’m paranoid about …her …presence here.”
“I fully understand, but he is … she is ...my friend. I trust her. And …more than that …I need her with me. Especially now, when so much hangs in the balance. She will …steady me.”
“Nature was cruel to make her male…” Deirdre ran a finger across my cheek again, lingering at my lips. “She reminds me of Shakira.”
Shakira? The singer? My ears must not be connected right, she couldn’t have said that.
“The only alteration we did to her vector was to make her biologically eight years younger, the age Sydney was when she …he …interned with me. Look, she's waking.”
The weights holding me down faded and I could finally open my eyes. They fluttered, and then Deirdre and Julia came into focus. I cleared my throat.
“…Am …am I …a ...woman?”
My voice! Holy shit, they've turned me into a chipmunk!
“One hundred percent pure,” Julia said, as she unstrapped me. There were a dozen or more white lab coat types behind Julia and Deirdre. It was then I remembered I was buck ass naked.
“Um ...clothes?”
“In a minute; first we discuss rule number 1.”
Julia pulled a digital wristwatch from her lab coat pocket. It read ‘88:35:04’ and was counting backwards. She buckled it on my wrist.
“We have this much time before the deactivated Y chromosomes start to degrade.”
I recalled the conversation months ago when she'd proposed the new MASG tests. She’d phoned me in Nice, France where I was slumming. It had taken a marathon call just to explain the procedure.
Unlike previous alterations where they overwrote their subjects with new DNA, Julia needed me to become my genetically equivalent female to validate the prior MASG data. So 'Sidney' becomes ‘Sydney.’ But this created a time constraint, because the deactivated Y chromosome begins to degrade at around 88 hours. After that, mutation risk prevented injection of the reversal virus.
The analogy she’d used was the degrading chromosome resembled corrupt programming stings in a computer’s registry. If degradation began they could still reboot me back to chromosomal male, by overwriting with new DNA, but I would never again be the unique genetic code that was ‘me.’
Julia grabbed my face to make me look in her eyes.
“Tell. Me. You. Understand.”
Maybe my synapses still weren't all firing, because I let out a giggle. “Yeah. I told Joni after 88 hours I turn into a pumpkin.”
“NO! This is critical! There is no cushion or grace period. Got it?”
When I gave a groggy nod, Julia shook her head. “Say the words.”
“Unless I receive …the reversal virus, within,” I squinted at the wrist watch on my wrist -my God! That's my wrist? It's so tiny!- “88 hours and 34 minutes, I can never go back to my old body.”
“Good girl.”
Julia pushed my hair out of my face. “Now, before you have your gynecological exam,” My eyes popped wide at that, “take a look.”
She handed me a mirror. Taking a deep breath, I looked, turning my face to one side, then the other. Then I shook my hair, and laughed.
“Julia, I’m …I’m …”
“Pretty? Yeah, amazing, ain’t I, although, there was one major flaw with the procedure.”
“What flaw?” Was there something horribly wrong with me? A missing kidney, or eleven fingers, or-
“-Your stupid joke gene; I fear I was unable to deactivate it.”
MONDAY, 7:45 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A BASEMENT HALLWAY.
“Why so quiet, Ms. Edwards,” Deirdre asked, “Aren’t you bursting with questions?”
I blinked, struggling to think through the sensations flooding me. I was so tiny! I felt small, helpless and overwhelmed.
Small, because I was sandwiched between Julia and Deirdre as they walked me down the hallway. Neither were Amazons in stature, yet my new 5’ 3” frame made them seem so.
Helpless, because I was clothed in a short green hospital gown and matching cloth slippers, the building A hallways had suddenly become crowded, and all eyes were on the new girl.
And since my senses were inputting sensory information at levels far above anything I’d experienced as a male, I was completely overwhelmed.
“Lot to take in,” I managed to whisper.
“The good news is the conversion worked perfectly,” Julia said. “Dr. Stevos confirmed you are a healthy nineteen year old female; you handled that well, by the way.”
“Yea me. That duck billed thing she stuck in …um …down there…” I struggled with the foreign terminology.
“The speculum, dear?” Julia suggested.
“I guess. It's always that cold?”
Julia snickered. “It could be warmed, yes, or a plastic one could have been used, but I thought you’d appreciate the …full sensory effect.”
“So that was …a prank?” I felt a slow smile crossing my face. “Tip of the hat, Jules; Lord knows I deserved it, for everything I pulled on you.”
“That’s it? No threats of evil revenge? Maybe I did deactivate your joke gene.”
I shrugged; and then looked at the women lining the hallway. “Why are so many people around? It’s like everyone knew when the parade would be.”
“They did,” Deirdre answered. “I texted everyone in ‘A’; I wanted them to get a good look at you so they’d know who avoid. I’m not sure you noticed, but there are no men here; that’s because it’s a controlled experiment.”
“I don’t understand, you mean the sensory experiment is female only, or GAP or-?”
“-No,” Julia interjected, “she means the entire ‘A’ research complex is, literally, an experiment. As males have been the dominant social gender for thousands of years, naturally, research has followed a patriarchal approach. It’s well documented women are more collaborative, network, and question more than men, so we set up Building ‘A’ as an experiment-”
“-to see how the work …produced by all female researchers …differs from research produced under the …the traditional male model?” I got it, it made a certain amount of sense.
“Very good, Syd, yes, that’s the thrust of it,” Julia said.
“Cool,” I smiled, but then my eyebrows arched. “What kind of soul sucking corporation spends money on this kind of research?”
“This is not supported by GenTech,” Deirdre answered. “It’s Julia’s brain child. She insisted on complete control of the Biogenetics research division as a condition of her employment.”
I knew GenTech’s hiring of Julia had skyrocketed their share price, but I hadn’t realized how much leverage that had given her.
“O-kay, so why are you doing this, Jules?”
Julia gave me a long stare; it seemed she was weighing something.
“Mankind is either on the brink of its next evolutionary step, or extinction. I’m afraid we are headed for extinction, so I’m trying to give evolution ...a helpful nudge.”
“Eight years ago you wanted nothing to do with the workings of the world; you were all about the ... theory of pure knowledge, um what's it called?”
“Epistemology.”
“That’s it, and the way knowledge was acquired. It was why MASG jazzed you up. When did you...” I had never pulled punches with Julia, and wasn't going to start now, “...develop this god complex?”
Julia smiled. I'm guessing she's never found anyone else who was as honest with her; maybe it’s one of the reasons we liked each other so much.
“There’s a global train wreck happening, but who will stop it? We’ve seen the typical male responses to the climate crisis, and we cannot afford that here.”
“Global train wreck?”
“A genetic development with cataclysmic implications for the human race.”
That confused me; Julia mentioned genetic, so she wasn’t taking about global warming, right? And anyway, Al Gore was all over that. So what other world crisis was she referring to? I shook my head; saving the planet was not my worry.
“Okay, let's say you're right about this …thing coming; how much of a difference can your new agey social experiment make?”
“New age?” Julia laughed. “Honey, this template ain’t new; in ancient times, the Amazons offered a sanctuary for strong, independent women. That’s what I’m aiming for here.”
I debated gender issues with Julia for countless hours during the first MASG tests. I didn’t disagree with her positions, but goading the woman was fun sport.
“So, to summarize, you’re using the biogenetics group as a platform to empower woman to,” I put my little fingertip to the side of my mouth, “take over the world?”
Julia snorted, but Deirdre turned red.
“I knew she’d be incapable of understanding,” Deirdre said. “Her dossier was accurate; she lacks maturity.”
“I was kidding! I didn’t really … wait, dossier? I have a dossier?”
This was news; when had I merited something like that? Was I moving up in the world?
“Look around, Ms. Edwards, you've entered a complex that is the bleeding edge of genetics research, that is itself a singular experiment. Do you think we let anyone waltz in?”
Something occurred to me. “Wait? You think I’ll ruin the Building A experiment?”
“No, I won't let you screw it up.” Deirdre flipped her black hair to one side, and leaned over me. “Consider yourself quarantined; outside of the MASG group, everyone in A has been ordered to avoid you.”
“Back off.” My fists were clenching; Deirdre giggled in response.
“You want to take me on? In your tiny body? That’s so cute.” She ran her fingers through my hair, “I could toss you over my knee and spank you, and you couldn’t do a thing about it, except cry. In fact, I’d enjoy that.”
I shot a look at Julia. “I don't care crap about science; I’m doing this as a favor for you. I did NOT sign up for public humiliation. As my friend you’re supposed to watch out for me.”
“Stand DOWN, Rogers. I'm taking Syd on from here. Meet me back in the lab; I want a word with you.”
“Fine,” Deirdre said. “Just remember, I’ve warned you.”
“Shoo, go somewhere and pull wings off flies,” Julia said. “that seems to be the kind of funk you’re in.”
Julia led me to the A elevator banks and we left the fuming woman behind.
“Syd, when we reach your room, you’re going to want to crash hard. The body hits a massive low within an hour of conversion; it's like jet lag on steroids. So get plenty of rest. In the meantime, I'll have a talk with Deirdre about attitude adjustment.”
“If you would, that would be great. I don’t want to be crossing swords with her the whole time I’m here,” Then I yawned. “Oh yeah, I could use some zzzs”
“I’m meeting you for breakfast at 6:15 am and testing begins tomorrow at 7:00 am sharp, so don’t be late!”
I yawned again in response.
“And Sydney?”
“Mmm?”
“Sweet dreams, hun.”
“Yes, mama.”
MONDAY, 8:05 P.M., GENTECH SUITE D 114
I could barely stand, and the temptation was to jump straight into bed and not move for an eon. Through sheer power of will, I forced myself to stay awake, and learn the layout of my temporary home. I walked through the living area to the kitchen, and opened drawers and cabinets. Good; it was fully stocked.
Next, I went to the bedroom, where I found my suitcases stowed in the closet. The call of the king-sized bed and white fluffy comforter was like a siren, but I resisted; this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I was going to do it right.
I traded my oh-so-lovely hospital gown for a white terrycloth robe, grabbed my toiletry bag, and headed to the bathroom. The door closed, the robe fell, and I took a long look in the mirror.
I started with my hair; golden and soft, it had a messy shag look, with layers of curls. Leaning into the mirror, I confirmed my eyes were still green, maybe more vibrant than I remembered, though. Giggling, I blew a kiss.
Next, I cupped my breasts; the computer modeling they’d sent me of my projected measurements listed them as 36C. Glad they weren’t bigger, they seemed huge. Huge, soft and…
I massaged them, and scraped my fingernails across my nipples. Wow! The pleasure shiver that spread through me made me gulp. What was it Steve Martin said in L.A. Story? That he couldn't be a woman because he’d play with his breasts all day?
“This is gonna be fun.”
My hands itched to travel lower, so I turned my gaze to my new ‘plumbing’. I’d done my homework before coming to GenTech, and gave myself a pop quiz. Below a small mass of blondish hair, I named the clitoral hood, clitoris, labia and vagina.
“Hooray! Gold star for me!” I planned to reward myself with further exploration when I got in bed.
After I washed my face and brushed my teeth, I went back to my bedroom to my suitcase. I fished around in it, pulling out a red piece of clothing. I glanced around with what must have been a guilty look on my face. I couldn't help it! The encounter with Deirdre had shaken me; the fact that someone was studying my 'dossier' left me feeling paranoid. What else was being done to monitor me?
Then I gave a headshake. “Rogers be damned, I’m going to taste, smell and feel all this body can offer.”
The silk chemise slithered on. I ran back to the bathroom to see the show. My hands smoothed down the slick material, and I turned sideways, to look at my smooth thighs and butt dimple showing through the high-cut side slits. When I turned back to face the mirror, I put a hand on a hip.
“Whistle if you want me, Deirdre,” I growled. “You know how to whistle, don't you? You just put your lips together and blow.”
I held the pose for about two seconds before I started giggling; I definitely needed to work on my Bacall thing.
I scampered back to my bed where I slid between the sheets. After some long moans and a few back arching ‘ohmygods,’ I finally did fall asleep.
TUESDAY 6:15 A.M., Gentech BUILDING G, ‘GENTECH EATS HEALTHY’ FOOD CAFE
“Sydney, you’re lovely!”
“You like?” I spun around before sitting down at Julia’s table. I was wearing a white silk blouse, acid wash jeans, and rust colored loafers.
Julia's head bobbed emphatically; When her eyes squinted, I guessed she was picking up that I’d even applied a little powder, lip-gloss, and eyeliner.
“You don’t do half-ass, do you? How long did you say you’ve been getting ready for this week?”
I slapped my butt. “Nothing ‘half’ about this new ass. I’ve been getting ready since the moment you sent my projected measurements; clothes, shoes, cosmetics, everything. Don’t worry, all unscented and hypoallergenic. Nothing to clog the old olfactory bulb.”
“I’m thrilled you’re exploring this opportunity, Syd. Now, before we order, what’s the time?”
I looked at the wall clock. “A little after-”
“-Sydney! What time is it!”
“Oh. That.” The changing back into a pumpkin countdown. I held up my wrist. “77 hours, and 48 minutes.”
“It’s easy to get caught up in new experiences, you more than most, but don’t lose track of this.”
“Of course, mama.”
“You’re going to keep calling me that, aren’t you,” Julia laughed, and picked up a menu. “Since I’m the one that ‘birthed’ the beautiful girl you are, I am kind of your mom. So show mama some respect, daughter. Okay, lecture over. What do you want?”
I had already looked at my menu and closed it. “A banana berry protein shake, and a shot of wheatgrass on the side.”
Julia frowned. “That’s light even in your new body. As I remember, you liked giganto breakfasts, eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns…”
I shook my head. “A smoothie is hard to screw up.”
“The food here is not bad, their ‘Poached Huevos Rancheros’ is popular, I’m told,” Julia said, as she motioned for a waiter. “They use eggs from free range hens and fresh cilantro and-”
“-Thanks, no.”
“Not impressed with our spectacular café? Spill, child, what’s wrong?”
“You mean other than its hideous name?”
“Um-hm. Enlighten me.”
“Sure. First, the menu’s impressive, too much so, in fact, offering an array of selections; dishes from Jamaica, Korea, California, Hawaii, Thailand, Mexico, Japan, Italy. What are the chances of a cook being proficient in all those styles?”
“Okay, trying to do too much; valid point. What else?”
“You mentioned the Huevos Rancheros? That poor schmuck ordered it…” I pointed to a woman seated far across the dining room, “…and from the smell, it should be renamed, I don’t know, ‘a bushel of cilantro with a side of eggs.’ The chef completely lacks subtlety.”
“You can tell from this distance?”
“Oh yeah; my senses have really sharpened since my ‘conversion.’ I can tell you what’s on the grill right now — blueberry pancakes.”
They had sharpened amazingly. Imagine the first time you try put on prescription glasses and you see the world in the clearest detail. Now translate that to smell. That is what I’ve experienced since I stepped out of the stasis chamber.
Julia looked to the kitchen; it was in a completely separate room and the door was closed.
“You’re amazing. So how would you run it?”
After I launched into a five minute dissertation on how I how would manage the café, I noticed a kind of lop-sided grin had plastered itself on Julia’s face.
“What? What are you smiling about?”
“About how darling you look.” Julia leaned in again. “We’ve done seven full DNA transformations so far, two of which were gender reversals, and my team treats it as business as usual. They’ve moved on to more ...exotic challenges. But it’s still a mind-blowing miracle. I know this is a stupid question, but does it feel …weird? You’re the first transformee I've been close to, and I’m dying to ask.”
“Weird? Yes and no. Mostly it’s all strange and new, the sensations I’m feeling. Yet …there have been moments when my mind is preoccupied, and I feel this is normal, where …for a moment …I forget it’s even happened. Does that make sense?”
Julia nodded. “You look very natural like this, Syd...”
Then she followed it up with the ever cryptic, “…interesting.”
TUESDAY 7 A.M., GENTECH Building A, MASG LAB ROOM 313
“Here she is folks, the prettiest lab rat you’ll ever meet.”
Julia introduced me to the group of white lab coated women gathered in the room. In addition to Deirdre, I met white-haired Dr. Alcina Thompson, the Korean researchers Kim Jin and Park Ji, and Amanda Benedict, a red-haired grad assistant.
“I hate to dump you and run, Syd, but I'm needed in the GAP lab, stat. I’ll circle back this afternoon and we’ll have dinner together tonight. I'm leaving you in Dr. Roger's care, who I'm certain will be filled with nothing but sweetness and light.”
Deirdre gave a pained grimace, adjusted her glasses, and said nothing. Great, I’ll be battling her my entire stay.
“I'm putting my trust in you, ‘daughter,’ be good.” Julia gave me a quick kiss on my head, and left.
“No way were you a man, no way,” Amanda said, grabbing my hand. “I can’t imagine what it’s like. And what was it like in the á¼ber secret GAP lab; other than Dr. Rogers, no one here has seen it. Was it too cool? Hey! Can I get you a coffee before we plug you into the ‘helmet’? Do need a pee break or anything?”
Amanda’s stream of consciousness barrage overwhelmed me; I guessed the red head was the good humored ‘let’s everyone get along’ member of the team. Heh! Time for some fun. I lowered my voice.
“Well, now that you mention it, I’ve …been scared to …you know …pee …because I’ve never done it without a …penis …so could you maybe …show me how to?”
“Oh sweetie! Have you been holding it in all this time? Let me take you to the-”
“-Amanda! Don’t be thick,” Deirdre said. “She’s joking, obviously; don't believe half of what Sydney says. She's incapable of mature thought.”
“Hey! It could have been true, it’s not like anyone gave me a manual or anything.” I patted the hand of the now red-faced grad student. “And you were being so nice. Now you’ll probably go spit in my coffee.”
“What a great idea-”
“-Enough!” Deirdre could restrain her annoyance no longer. “GenTech did not agree to use its most expensive and secret treatment on you so you could chit chat about peeing. Get in the chair and let’s get going.”
“So much for sweetness and light,” Then I gave a Hitler salute. “Ya vole mein Doktor.”
Soon I was seated, with sensors stuck to my forehead. “This was the stuff we used years ago; there’s gotta be more advanced equipment.”
“Of course, but we have to recreate the conditions of the original MASG tests, so, on with the Frankenstein headgear,” Deirdre said. “We’ll be videoing and monitoring your vitals as well, just like Julia did the first time.”
“Got it. And I’ll try to act like I did for the old tests, at least as much as I remember. Come to think of it, I didn’t shave my face during the first testing phase, so I won’t now either.”
“Sydney, you don’t need to shave your face now because you’re a-”
Score!
Deirdre saw my smirk. “Stop, dammit, just stop! That's not even vaguely humorous. Do you remember how your first tests started?”
“It's been a while, but didn’t we set a baseline?”
Deirdre nodded. “Before you can begin profiling, we’ll have you place the 32 standard test odors into one of eight primary odor categories. Dr. Thompson will lead you through this.”
The elderly woman wheeled a tray of tiny glass vials next to me.
“I’m so excited to be working with you, Ms. Edwards; Dr. Carter has told me how miraculous your senses are. Now, as you may remember, the eight primary odor categories are camphorous, fishy, malty, minty, musky, spermous, sweaty, and urinous.”
“Fishy? Urinous?” I rolled my eyes. “I’d forgotten how sexy this work was.”
Alcina smiled, and held the first vial to my nose. “How do you categorize this?”
“Stinky.”
“Young lady, that is NOT one of the categories-”
“She’s joking, Alcina,” Deirdre said. “Sydney! On task!”
I cocked my head. “The journey of a thousand odors begins with a single sniff.”
“Syd-NEY!”
Deirdre stormed over; for a moment, I thought she might cold-cock me.
“Dr. Thompson has B.S. and M.S. degrees in Botany, PhDs in Microbiology and Genetics, and is enormously respected by her peers. She was one of the pioneers who smashed through the glass ceiling imposed on women by male researchers. Do you intend to treat her -or our other equally qualified scientists- flippantly the entire test period? I warned Julia you would do this.”
“No ...I was only...” I wished she had slapped me; now I felt stupid and immature. “I'll try not to … to ...screw around anymore, okay? I really did mean to be serious.”
When Deirdre took my face in her hands, I blinked at her in surprise.
“Not good enough. Swear to me you will focus, that you'll work with us.”
I sighed. “Deal. I’ll cooperate. Fully. No more joking.”
“No, more than that. Promise me ...” Deirdre voice became a breathy whisper, so that only I heard her. “…you’ll be my good girl, and do …everything I say.”
Christ! I didn’t know what to make of that; someone’s personal fantasy leaking through?
“Uh, look, I said I'd cooperate, that's the best I can do, okay?”
“We'll see about that,” Deirdre said, giving my cheek a playful slap. It took me a moment to realize I blushed in response. What the hell is wrong with me? I shook my head and turned to Alcina.
“Sorry, Dr. Thompson, would you please give me that scent again?”
“Quite all right, dear.” Alcina held the vial to my nose.
“It’s camphorous, ma'am.”
“Good. Call me Alcina. And this?”
“Musky.”
“And this?”
As the testing continued, I noticed Deirdre watching me a half-crooked smile. It looked …lecherous.
TUESDAY 4:00 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A, BIOGENETICS LAB ROOM 313
“These next tests will focus on stimulus intensity,” Deirdre asked me. “You’ll need to stay blindfolded. Do you need a refresher on the LM scale?”
“No, I’m good, ‘barely detectable’ is just above 0, and ‘strongest imaginable’ is 100.”
“You’ve been sniffing non-stop for hours,” Amanda chirped, from her lab station where she'd been inputting some of the day's data. “Need some fresh air or a natural break?”
I was bleary and starting to feel sensory deprived; I’d been blindfolded for nearly all the tests. I didn’t want to stop, though, after Deirdre’s dressing down this morning, I wanted to prove to her I could be responsible.
“Thanks, no,” I shook my head. “We were on a shoe string budget during the old MASG tests, and had to do it all at once, so let’s press on.”
I wasn’t so tired that I didn’t recognize the new scent entering the room.
“Mmm cinnamon. Is Julia here?”
“That’s amazing; yes she's just arrived,” Deirdre said. “Julia smells like cinnamon?”
I raised my blindfold and blinked at the light. “Not actual cinnamon, I …okay ... confession time…”
I lowered my voice so only she would hear. Why I was spilling this secret to her, I hadn’t a clue.
“You’ve heard people use the phrase ‘passing the smell test?’ Well, since I can remember, I can tell by someone’s scent whether I like them. And, for people I really like, I mentally assign a pleasant smell. Julia is cinnamon. When I deeply dislike someone, I assign them other scents, like stinky socks or rotten eggs, or…well, you get the idea.”
"Alcina. How does she register to you?"
I smiled. "Brandied cherries."
“I'm afraid to ask what I smell like.”
“I’d rather not tell you.”
“I see...” For a second, her eyes showed hurt, then they hardened.
“No, you don’t. It’s the opposite of what you think.”
“I’m a big girl.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me how your ‘personality smell-o-meter’ reads me.”
“Roses” I mumbled. I didn’t know what that hell that implied, but she undeniably did. “I’m sorry if this offends you or-”
“-Shhh.” Deirdre eyes were bright again; she put a finger to my lips. “No harm, no foul. You have a most discerning nose.”
“Um, thanks,” I said. Why I was suddenly shy?
“So how’s our new gal doing?” Julia said, giving me a smile as she joined us; I could tell something was wrong, though.
“Great, better than expected,” Deirdre said
“How so?” Julia cocked her head.
“We feared Sydney would be disruptive...”
“Yes,” Julia nodded, “But I built in extra time to account for the delays I thought she’d cause. Has she exceeded the cushion already?”
They’d built in extra time because I was frivolous? God, how shallow did they think I was? And ...were they right?
Deirdre shook her head. “After a few cracks this morning, she became intense, focused. Perhaps she’s matured since she interned with you.”
“No,” Julia said, “yesterday when I picked Syd up, he was more bombastic than ever.”
“In case you don’t realize it, this is me, sitting right here. Don’t talk like I’m not, okay?”
But of course, they did.
“If anything, she’s been …hmm, demur.”
The way Deirdre said that, it sounded nasty. But in a good way.
Julia barked a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when that word described you, Syd. Any problems from your gender switch?”
“Surprisingly few,” Deirdre answered for me again, since I was incapable, apparently. “She’s said ‘this is so weird’ several dozen times, but I can tell she’s enjoying her temporary skin. Aren’t you sweetie?”
She pinched my cheek and I felt myself blush. I was, in fact, enjoying myself immensely, discovering the differences, and similarities, between this body and my old one.
“Remarkable. Is it possible you’re better as a woman? What a study that would be.”
“I wouldn't mind conducting that experiment,” Deirdre murmured.
I really must be getting tired; everything Deirdre said was sounding like sexual innuendo.
“Er …how is she doing on the MASG testing?” Julia asked.
“Fantastic!” Deirdre's face lit up. “Sydney’s previous sense and smell tests were amazing, but as a woman? Off the charts! I’ve snuck a peek at some of the old ‘Sidney as male’ test data to compare -I know, mustn’t draw conclusions- but her increased hypersensitivity must also indicate an increase in scent sensitive neurons…”
Julia bit a lip in what I guessed was an attempt to hold back a laugh.
“…which could be linked to high estrogen levels. Her ...her …physiological and behavioral responses are measurably …no, markedly, different! At first I thought the 8 year time lag between the MASG tests was problematic, but now I'm thinking it validates, because ‘she’ can't remember her responses as a ‘he’.”
“Julia!” Deirdre was dancing around so much she looked like she needed to pee. “It’s inescapable that the genetic responses generated by sensory reactions play a HUGE role in human behavior on a moment to moment basis. This is exactly the direction we need to go to understand the effect of the genetic changes we are contemplating with Project Y...”
Deirdre sighed when she finally noticed ‘cat-that-ate-the canary’ grin Julia was wearing. “Okay, let me have my well earned 'I told you so.'”
“None coming,” Julia said. “I'm glad you've come around to MASG's importance. Ironically, now that you are engaged, I'm going to pull you away for a bit. Styles has called a meeting with me, and he is insisting on having it here.”
“No! Absolutely not, there’s no way we’re-”
“-He’s informed me that two serious assaults have been reported at GenTech over the last twenty-four hours, and —for our safety- he's insisting to be allowed into Building A to warn the residents.”
“And just like that, you’ll let him in, and jeopardize everything? We can’t trust him!”
“I didn’t say I’d let him in; I was simply letting my second in command know everything he’d told me. I’m meeting him in the small breakout room in our lobby. I won’t let him put a toe in here.”
“That’s a relief; since you were willing to so easily give the keys to the castle to Sydney, I wasn’t sure how far you'd go.”
Deirdre was officially back in bitch mode. Fabulous.
“-Dammit, let this thing go,” Julia said. “I trust her! That should be good enough for you! You just said she’s performed well and-”
“-You’re right, sorry, I’ll let it drop. So what trumped up excuse has Styles fabricated to weasel in?”
“Rapes. Two of them. Lauren yesterday afternoon, Kara last night.”
“Oh God no,” Deirdre said. “Weston from the genetic disorders group and your Kara from GAP?”
“Mm-hm. While I’m meeting with Styles, I want you to go to them. Help them. Find out anything you can about-”
“-who the bastard was that did this, and how we can cut off his balls.”
“There’s no disagreement between us on this one, dear. Sydney, your testing is over for the day. I want you to come with me.”
“She already knows too much! Are you insane? ” Deirdre's voice was by turns loud, then pin drop quiet. “...are you?”
Was she?
A far more dangerous drama than I could have possibly imagined was unfolding at Gentech, and I wondered, with the industrial espionage at work, the ominous 'global crisis’ Julia alluded to, and now these horrible rapes, could my old friend be cracking under the strain?
I didn’t doubt my test results would be valuable to Julia and her team, but at the end of the day, it was still just a freakish skill. Maybe Julia needed me for a more fundamental purpose. Maybe with the world's weight on her shoulders, the world's premier geneticist needed, every now and again, to have someone she could lean on? I wonder if something as basic as friendship could keep her from crossing that thin boundary between genius and insanity? I was willing to try.
I faced Deirdre. “You don’t trust me, I know this. I bet my ‘dossier’ tells a tale of one who flits from job to job, never committing to anything. But Julia needs me; I swear to you, I will keep my mouth shut and mind on task.”
I’m not sure which of them looked more surprised, but the tension drained out of Julia’s face and her eyes turned wet.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
“This is so not a good idea,” Deirdre said, but the conviction had evaporated from her voice.
“Probably not, but it’s going to happen,” Julia said. “Go care for Lauren and Kara; they’ll need serious counseling; the sooner the better. And get the details of what happened to them; initial reports are they’re suffering from memory loss. I need you with me on this, Deirdre.”
A stricken look crossed Deirdre’s face. “I am your most loyal follower.”
“-Sorry; I know you are. But these rapes on top of everything else… someone’s tightening the screws on us …”
Just as suddenly, Julia looked lost again, and on impulse I grabbed her hand. Deirdre had the same thought because she took the other. Julia smiled at us when she realized what had happened.
“I need both of you right now. It would be great if you could get along, but if that’s not possible, can you agree not to kill each other? For me?”
I nodded, and then noticed Deirdre was staring at me. If I read her eyes right, I gathered she saw me as something more than an callous annoyance to be suffered. That I might not be completely worthless.
I prayed she was right.
TUESDAY 4:20 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING A LOBBY, ‘BREAK-OUT’ ROOM
GenTech’s security chief was easy to spot when he entered our conference room; he fit most of the Hollywood clichés, black suit, military short brown hair. If he’d sported the MIB sunglasses, then the stereotype would have been complete.
He wore Ralph Lauren’s Polo Blue cologne, -I’d worked a year and a half in Paris as a perfumer for L’Oreal several years ago, and still recognized the majority of the crappy scents for men- but as for the smell the cologne was masking, well…
He was followed by two beefy dark-suited men that had ‘subordinate’ written all over them. They were wearing sunglasses. The security chief’s gray eyes scanned me longer that I thought was necessary.
“Dr. Carter, I don’t believe I’ve met your young associate.”
“This is ...Cindy Johnson, my temporary personal assistant.”
Hmm. From lab rat to gopher; was I moving down or up in the animal kingdom?
He held an open hand to me. “I’m Richard Styles, GenTech’s chief security officer. Pleased to meet you.”
I nodded and shook it. He turned his attention back to Julia.
“The information I must discuss is highly confidential, Dr. Carter. If I may suggest you ask Ms. Johnson to wait in the lobby while we-”
“-Ms. Johnson will remain with me. As I’ve told you previously, I will not attend a meeting with you without at least one witness present.”
“Can I assume Ms. Johnson has signed a non-disclosure agreement with GenTech?”
“You can assume anything you like.” Julia was practically hissing.
“Cooperative as always. Dr. Carter, your refusal to allow law enforcement officials into Building A is unacceptable. I want you to understand that obstruction of justice is a criminal offense, punishable by fine, or imprisonment, or both.”
So far, if an outside observer were watching this? They would have seen a man talking in a measured tone, and a woman who’s voice was shrill and eyes were darting. In other words, they’d conclude he was being reasonable and she suspect.
I was perceiving something far different - Styles reeked of rotten slimy fish.
No, not literally; cologne aside, if I were back down in the lab, I'd say he had a musty smell, LM 32. But on my -what had Deirdre called it? my personality smell-o-meter?- he was deep in the bad zone.
Julia’s scent, on the other hand remained of clean honest spice.
I intended to keep my mouth shut -I did!- but when had that plan ever worked for me? He'd gotten Julia on her back foot; maybe I could help her rally? I cleared my throat.
“Care to start over, Dick? Instead of accusing Dr. Carter of hypothetical crimes, maybe you should start with real ones first? Call me crazy, but how about -oh, I don't know- an update on how the rape victims are doing, and how the authorities, with the assistance of your crack department, are going to catch the bastard who did this?”
For an instant, Styles' ice facade cracked and he glared daggers at me. Then his expression went neutral again and turned back to Julia.
“Both of the alleged victims were from Building A. There may be others who have not reported being assaulted. It is possible that you, or Dr. Rogers, have been covering this up in an effort to prevent entrance into A. If the police want in as part of their investigation, you can’t stop them. I will encourage them to want in.”
“My assistant is correct; why would you start our meeting by threatening me, rather than telling us what happened?” Julia said; purpose replacing her uncertainty. “Perhaps, Syd's ...er ...Cindy's words were too complex for you; I’ll start with a question so simple even you can understand. Were Lauren or Kara hurt?”
“Spare me your false concern. The so-called victims told us nothing; as per your instructions, I’m sure.”
What happened next surprised everyone; Julia's hand whipped out and across Style's face with a loud satisfying smack.
“Feel better? You’ve just given me more of an injury than either 'victim' sustained. From the way they described their attacks, it was like both women wanted this to happen. In any event, the game is almost up, Doctor. Any more Building A rape victims, and even the idiot cops will follow the bread crumbs into A. They’ll be coming in, and I’ll be with them. I so want to throw open these doors and show the shareholders how you’ve pissed away billions of their precious dollars. I’m on to your game. I know how you periodically dole out new products to keep prying eyes from seeing what really goes on in A.”
“I squander shareholder funds? Last I checked, products from my research have increased GenTech’s profitability by 40%. Share price is at an all time high. I’d hardly call that pissing away.”
Styles stood, and motioned to his agents that it was time to leave. “See you on the inside very soon.” He started to leave, then stopped, and turned to me. “There is a rapist on the loose, Ms. Johnson. A woman like you ought to be ...careful.”
After they left, I blinked at Julia.
“A …woman like me? What’d he mean by that?”
“You still think of yourself in terms of your male self-image, I suspect. But at this moment, you are a young and very attractive female, Syd. Keep that in mind.” Then she gave me a long look. “You’re starting to have real doubts about my stability, right about now, I expect.”
I was worried about her, but Styles was a different matter. I shook my head. “I don't trust that man's scent. He’s a toad.”
“Seriously? You can judge someone's character by scent? That's interesting.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I've always had the knack, but in this body, it’s way clearer, and ...that man's pond scum.”
Julia barked a laugh.
“No, I'm serious.”
“I'm not doubting you. I'm surrounded by brilliant scientists, yet I never get such an honest assessment. Except maybe from Astra.”
I wrinkled my eyebrows. “Astra?”
“You'll meet her soon enough; Lord help us all when you two get together. There was some truth in what he was saying, about how loose I play with my fat research budget. I have been trickling out inventions, giving the company just enough to leave me alone.”
“How so?”
Julia ran a hand through pepper gray hair as she composed her thoughts.
“My first release was genetically engineered rice, produced by recombinant DNA technology. It contained rich amounts of pro-vitamin A, beta-carotene and iron, and is a godsend for third world countries.”
“That sounds fantastic!” And just the kind of world improving product I'd expect from her.
“It is. But it did not, however, contribute to GenTech's bottom line. I soon felt the heat from the CEO, and learned altruism didn't sell.”
“Oh. God, I guess I'm naive.”
“I was too. We tried again. This time my team developed a kit to be used by cosmetic store representatives, which would instantly determine a person's genetic skin characteristics and recommend specific products based on the results.”
“Well, it's not hunger relieving like your first product, but it still is beneficial, and it sounds more marketable.”
“Oh, it was, but it did not produce significant profits. So I sent my team back to the drawing board. This time, they came up with ‘Geneta Anti-cellulite Crá¨me’, or GAK as its huge fan based dubbed it. Through integrated nano-technology, the nanites in the crá¨me deliver an extract that activates the metabolism of the fat cells. And ...it worked! It actually breaks down cellulite.”
“A …fat melter?” Okay, I saw where this was headed. “I'm guessing it was a hit?”
“Grand slam home run. You gotta love America. The FDA verified it, and GAK sales exploded through the roof. So GenTech’s CEO was a happy camper this fiscal year, and I was free to follow my real work without prying eyes. Until our encounter with Mr Styles.”
Julia picked up her cell and punched a button.
“Deirdre? Yeah, the wolves have been turned away, but not for long. Call an emergency committee meeting in the big conference room STAT. We are under siege.”
I waited until she clicked off her phone, but I had to ask her.
“Julia, what is your real work?”
“Saving the world, Syd, saving humanity.”
End Part 1
***
Fragrance - Part 2
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Fragrance,
by Armond
Smell is surer than sight or sound. - Kipling
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here
Part 2
TUESDAY 5:00 P.M., GENTECH BUILDING 'A' BASEMENT, CONFERENCE ROOM 1 ENTRANCE
Gentech's barf green hallway carpet was getting a good workout from my nervous feet; where do companies get this stuff, anyway?
Julia asked me to 'wait here,' while she cleared me to attend her emergency conclave of mad female scientist. Full disclosure: she actually called it her Operating Committee, but since I hated pacing around while a bunch of people I didn't know chitchatted about me, I'm free to label them as I please.
Didn't sound like the 'clearing' was going smoothly; there was a lot of shouting, and not in the happy way. I definitely didn't hear any 'hip hip hoorays.'
Also, I scented fear wafting from the room. Does fear have a scent? Opinions vary; some scientists say what is 'sensed' by animals is 'fear' body language rather than a smell, while others claim the body emits an 'alarm pheromone.' All I can tell you is, in my old Sidney body, I could smell panic in others if the situation was extreme -I hated flying because of this- but as a woman, I was picking things up much clearer. Serious angst was happening inside that room.
Finally, the door opened, and Julia stepped out. I couldn't read her face; she had a smile going on, but it was twisted a bit.
“Look, if me attending is going to upset the cosmic balance, I'm happy to go to my room and knock back some wine before our dinner.”
“No, it's okay, I-” Julia stopped mid-sentence and gave me the oddest look. “Sydney, you would never betray me would you?”
Betray her? What was she talking about? Why the hell would I ever do that?
She brushed my cheek with her hand. “Your expression says it all; betrayal isn't in your psyche. I'm sorry I asked.”
“What's going on here Julia? I smell big time fear. Is it these rapes, or-”
“-You can smell fear? Amazing.” She looked at me with her scientist eyes, the kind she wore when she peered into her microscope at amoebas. “Yes, rapes are the worst crime that can be inflicted on a woman, and these appear to target us. The deeper fear you sensed, however, has to do with Project Y being exposed. That was the major push back to you coming in this meeting.”
“I bet Deirdre was leading the charge.”
Julia nodded. “She did object, but she also told the committee that after working with you today, she felt you could be trusted.”
I didn't expect that from the egg head/drop dead gorgeous/ second in command of whatever. Maybe I'd fallen off her, 'people I'd like to see burning in hell' list.
“Project …Y? I thought GAP was the big deal here. I swear, Julia, you scientists with your damned acronyms! I'm going to write 'em all down on a bingo card, and then, if I hear 'MASG,' 'GAP,' and 'Y in a meeting, I'll shout 'Bingo!”
“Don't make any jokes in this meeting, Syd. You're about to learn that Project Y is the most critical issue happening on our planet,” Julia said. Then her voice turned soft. “Our situation is complicated by the fact that, several months ago, I underwent a psychiatric evaluation, and was diagnosed as borderline schizophrenic. What I told the committee was-”
“-Wait!” I grabbed her arm. “Julia! Don't kid about something like this!”
“Calm down, sweetie, my condition is still in the early stages, and several treatment options exist, including a gene therapy treatment idea I've been kicking around. However, with the unalterable Y deadlines we face, drugs, therapy or a sabbatical are not options. I told the committee I need you with me for support, because you are the nearest thing on Earth I have to family. This is dumping a lot on your shoulders, but you ground me in a way no one else can. I need you, Syd, here and now.”
My eyes grew hot. “You feel that way?”
“No, more than that…” Julia held my face in her hands, “you are my family.”
Emotions flooded me - stronger than anything I'd felt in my old body- and I threw my arms around her. She hugged me tight right back.
“I knew you felt the same way.” She let out a big sigh.
A thought popped in my head. “Why all this worry about betrayal? What gone down here to cause this paranoia?”
“We've been infiltrated by three spies we know of. Deirdre became our ad hoc security chief to monitor threats.”
I'd heard industrial espionage was a real problem in the biotech industry, but actual cloak and dagger spies? Wow! “So these spies are in jail now?”
“Mmmmmm …no. They learned too much about Y, and so …we dealt with them.”
“Julia!” I whispered. “You didn't …kill them, did you?”
“Sydney! Such a male way of thinking! We believe in the sanctity of life here; it's what Y is all about. Let's just say they won't be talking to anyone for a while.”
“So …you have them locked up somewhere?”
“You could say that. Enough. Everyone is waiting. We need to address these awful rapes and then get a Project Y status download. Syd, you'll be hit with a crush of information -a lot of acronyms, as you say- so please behave, be brave, and no yelling bingo.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Her body tightened and her eyes turned wet. 'You know …I like it when you call me that, daughter.”
I smiled. “And I kind of like it when you call me that.”
She leaned over and kissed the top of my head. Then, taking my hand, she led me in.
'Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.'
I almost blurted it out when I walked in, but I bit my tongue. Why? Because I'm a good girl. I hoped Deirdre noticed.
Twelve. I counted twelve women seated around the gleaming slate conference table, a few dressed in pantsuits, more wore lab coats, and all were glaring at the intruder in their inner sanctum.
Me.
These weren't just any women. On the trip down after our meeting with Styles, Julia gave me a briefing of who I would meet - the world's top female geneticists.
Intimidated? Moi? You bet your ass.
Julia cleared her throat. “With our little housekeeping matter out of the way, let's proceed: I've called this emergency meeting because of the gravity of the situation,” Julia said. “Two of our colleagues, our sisters, have been raped. Lauren Weston and Kara Morgan.”
A buzz saw of anger erupted from the group. Julia held a hand up for silence. “Dr. Rogers has investigated the incidents and has spoken to both. Deirdre, tell us what you've learned.”
Deirdre straightened her lab coat, did a quick primp of her Beckensale black hair, and somehow managed to look pissed, fierce and sexy all at once.
“The assaults happened last night; Lauren's at 8:30 near the pond and Kara's at 10:45, as she was returning to 'A' from the fitness center.”
Questions flew from around the table. “Why wasn't this reported earlier?” “Someone must have heard this happening.” “Were they hurt?”
Deirdre waved them quiet. “One at a time! First, Lauren and Kara suffered no physical injury, thank God, but emotionally? They're devastated. Two of our strong minded women have had their confidence ripped away…” As Deirdre's voice trailed off, she started clenching and unclenching her fists.
“But how? How did this happen?” asked the woman to the right of Julia; her GAP ID badge read Margie Treadway, Assistant Director. Margie was keen-eyed, with a plump face and wavy brown hair. “Did the assailant use a weapon to subdue them?”
“Rather than describe the incidents, let me show you. We have security camera footage of Kara's attack.
She clicked a button on a small remote she'd picked up, and a beam of light shot from the ceiling to the center of the table, quickly forming an image. This was a 3D holographic projector? Holy shit, these gals have all the cool toys.
The image was fuzzy, the lighting poor, and the distance far enough away to make the figures tiny, but I could figure out what was happening. I watched a female figure leave the fishbowl 'G' building; when she stopped, another figure, a man from the look of his body, approached her.
Something weird happened next. The woman dropped her gym bag, literally ripped off her t-shirt and sports bra, and dropped to her knees. Then she started lunging for the man's crotch. The man backed into some building shadows and out of site, and the woman followed, scrambling on her knees.
Deirdre pressed a button, and the image fast-forwarded, to show the man reappear from the shadows, straighten his pants and stride away. Deirdre forwarded again, and the woman emerged from the shadows, clearly disoriented. She barely managed to scoop up her top before she staggered out of camera view.
The room turned so quiet I could hear the hum of the overhead fluorescent lights. Deirdre broke the silence.
“Note the poor quality of the video feed. The fact the assailant is unidentifiable. Now look at a live shot from this camera.”
She clicked the remote again, and an image reappeared in the center of the table, showing people entering and leaving 'G' in late afternoon sunlight. Only this time, the figures were crisp HD quality.
“Obviously, someone knows we've tapped into the security system and is playing us, feeding us the images but altering them so we can't identify the assailant. I suspect it is Styles who's onto our tap, but, I have no proof.”
“Was Lauren's assault similar to what happened to Kara?”
Deirdre nodded. “Her attack happened exactly this way. They were drugged to be made compliant and …extremely willing.”
“What? Like a date rape drug?” asked a voice from across the table. In my elevator ride briefing, Julia told me about Sarah Martin, Gentech's General Counsel. The ebony skinned woman was immaculate in her blue pinstriped suit. She had the air of one who'd fought many battles but lost few.
“Far more powerful, as we just observed, and acting instantaneously,” Deirdre said. “Lauren and Kara became mindless slaves, or …'bitches in heat' might be a better description I'm just not sure. It's one reason they took so long to report it; they weren't sure what had happened.”
“Are you talking some kind of mind control?” I blurted; holding my tongue had never been a virtue of mine. In my defense, I was trying to wrap my brain around this, and Deirdre's references sounded both oblique and ripped from a bad Sci-fi novel.
“Yes, that is an apt description, they were stripped of their free will.” Deirdre nodded. “They remember having an uncontrollable sexual attraction to their male attacker, and did anything he asked. Anything. What's more frightening, is Kara is a lesbian.”
“Oh dear! Were they able to give the authorities a good description of the man?” Alcina asked. She sat to the right of Margie, and her wrinkled face had whitened.
Deirdre shook her head in anger. “They can't remember his face; somehow their memories are as fogged as the video.”
“Let me see if I've got this straight,” said Astra, the young woman sitting two chairs to my left. Julia had given me her ten-second background on the elevator ride as well. Astra had been a science prodigy, entering MIT at age 12. With numerous piercings and a salmon pink lab coat that matched her pony-tailed hair, Astra was the anti-scientist. Naturally, I like her instantly.
“This drug or agent turns a woman, any woman, into a mindless fuck slave?” Astra continued. “And her memory can be wiped so she doesn't remember the rapist? Could we be any more screwed? Um ...no pun intended.”
“As a matter of fact, yes, we could,” Julia answered. “Mr. Styles let me know these rapes are his ticket to getting his slimy ass into ‘A’. He believes the police will figure out they need to look around in here, and he plans to slither in with them. Like Deirdre, I believe he is linked to these attacks. How odd, how coincidental, that, at this exact moment in our efforts, someone armed with a highly sophisticated compound begins assaulting building 'A' women? Sarah, how do we stop Styles?”
“If the police show up with an executed search warrant, they will come in,” Sarah answered.
“Unacceptable,” Julia said. “You must prevent this.”
“I'll try for a preliminary injunction, and argue like hell for trade secret protection.” Sarah shook her head. “It’s weak; our legal position improves if we prevent more rapes from occurring.”
“No shit, Sherlock!” Astra said. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“Ladies, if I may be so bold ...we represent the greatest collection of female scientific minds on the planet,” Julia said. “We must determine what this 'mind control' substance is, and develop counter measures. So my fellow geniuses, what could trigger such a reaction?”
“Do you mean ...could this be a gene triggered response? Something like sex pheromones?” Margie titled her head. “Bad cologne ads aside, Julia, the power of 'pheromones' have been exaggerated; at best, male sex hormones may put a female slightly 'in the mood,' certainly nothing like this.”
I could feel the electricity charging thorough group's collective neurons. And when Julia started drumming her fingers and staring at the ceiling, I realized I was witnessing the Nobel winner in her infamous 'brainstorm' mode.
“Okay…here's a quick and dirty,” Julia said. “For grins, let's say someone did develop a pheromone that genetically triggers a primitive response in a woman's lizard brain-”
“-Lizard brain?” I had to ask. “Help your scientifically challenged lab rat here; neurobiology is so not my area.”
“The brainstem, to be precise, the lower part of the brain,” Julia said. “It's something we mammals share with, well, lizards. Very primal, controls responses like fight or flight.”
“Gotcha,” Made sense to me. “So this pheromone triggers, what, in the brainstem?”
“A mating instinct perhaps? So powerful, the urge overwhelms or by-passes the neocortex, and goes straight to the limbic brain,” Margie offered.
“Um, again, mere mortal here. Terminology, please?” I tried not to whine, but c'mon, throw me a bone!
“The neocortex is the thinking part of the brain, you know, the part you seldom exercise,” Julia said with a grin. I would so get her back for that later. “And the limbic is the emotional part. So if someone did produce a pheromone that tapped into our mating instinct, one so powerful it shut down our cognitive thought, our emotional brain would take over and we become …”
She paused to let the words sink in, to which Astra gave a disgusted grunt, “pliable, open to suggestion, and driven by a single purpose …to fuck.”
“Okay, good, we're getting somewhere; this fits what we viewed,” Deirdre said. “How would the pheromone be delivered? A spray, maybe?”
“Without knowing more, we couldn't say,” Julia answered. “Did the victims want sex with any male handy, or only the attacker? The man might be emitting a scent which draws a woman uniquely to him. Maybe he ingested something, and these amped sex pheromones are emitted through his sweat glands, creating a 'signature smell.'”
Signature smell? This sounded like something I should be aware of. “Who has the knowledge to develop something like this?”
“Well, some of us here do, theoretically, and a few others in 'A' could as well.”
“This gets worse and worse; we could be looking at a traitor,” Deirdre said. “Who else in this field could come up with such a substance?”
“Not many, a dozen? I'll make a list, and then we'll start cross-referencing to identify likely suspects.” Julia furrowed her brow. Then her jaw clinched. “Margie, suspend the GAP work for the time being. Have the team concentrate on mapping the gene that is activated by such a compound, and design a countermeasure to prevent it-”
“Julia! Without the compound itself, that's looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack,” Margie said. “No, actually, the odds would be better for finding the needle.”
Julia held up her hand. “I understand the enormity of the task, but we've got to do something to come up with a defense. Deirdre. What can we do to prevent more attacks?”
Deirdre's forehead furrowed. “For starters, we'll tell all 'A' residents to implement the buddy system; no one goes anywhere unless accompanied by another. Also, we can beef up camera surveillance for 'A'; we install our private perimeter cameras immediately, then feed them into to our existing internal monitoring system.”
“Make it happen,” Julia said. “Sarah, delay, delay, delay. Don't let the police, and Styles, in here.
After Sarah nodded, Julia looked at Astra.
“A Project Y update, if you please. Talk to me, Astra.” Julia's eyes looked desperate for good news. “Tell me you've found data proving we were wrong, that degenerative Y syndrome isn't widespread, or spreading rapidly, or-”
“-We are so fucked.” The Goth scientist apparently wasn't going to deliver the news Julia wanted to hear. “At first I couldn't replicate your findings when I tested the African samples, and I got excited. Then Beth and I suspected the new culture medium we were using was affecting the results. When we tweaked it, wham! degenerative Y appeared. It's everywhere, Julia.”
“And the infertility rate for Africa?” Deirdre asked.
“Confirmed. Doubling annually, same as everywhere else; we're up shit creek.”
“Dammit!” Julia slammed her fists on the conference room table. Then she sighed. “Can't fight the data.”
It finally dawned on me what they were talking about. “Are you saying humans, worldwide, are becoming infertile?”
“Yes, Syd, though the rates are so low now no one else has connected the dots, what our group has discovered is, on a species wide basis, the human Y chromosome is disappearing. We suspect a virus is the culprit, and at the current rate of infection, will cause the chromosome to vanish in, say, forty years? The window of opportunity to stop it, the tipping point, is right now though.”
“But …if the Y gene disappears then …does the male gender goes away too?”
“Exactly,” Julia answered. “No more males, no more babies. No more babies, game over; bye bye human race. Maybe the dolphins will do a better job of things with us gone.”
“Whoa, stop! Back up. I mean, my God! If we are looking at the extinction of the human species, why aren't you screaming this to the government or the UN or something?”
“I think I mentioned this yesterday, Syd, based on the typical patriarchal response we've seen to the Global Warming Crisis, it will be years, decades, before the governments of the world formulate a response. WE DON’T HAVE THAT KIND OF TIME!”
End of mankind? I couldn't believe what I'd landed in! I thought I was here for an amazing holiday; for smelling some stuff, I got to be a girl for a few days. Instead, I’d been dumped into an end-of-days drama.
“Sorry to be so melodramatic, Syd, but, neither will I sugarcoat it for you.” Julia turned back to Astra. “I guess it would be too much to hope we've had any luck identifying the virus causing this?”
Astra shook her head, causing her multiple earrings to flash in the light. “We're striking out here. On the bright side, at least Al Gore will be happy; in a couple of generations, we'll pretty much be left with geezers, so carbon emissions will drop waaaay down.”
Julia ignored the comment without a flinch; maybe years of suffering quips from me had made her immune. “I didn't want to do this so soon, but we're going to have to merge the GAP and MASG teams. If we are going to create a counter virus to shift the sex determining part of Y to another chromosome, each chromosome must be mapped so we know exactly what we're altering. I do not want to go down in history as the woman who ushered in a mutant zombie apocalypse.”
“You're merging GAP with MASG? Your 'turn a guy into a nose girl so she can smell things' project?” Astra asked. “Heh. Nose Girl. I like it.”
Nose Girl? When I dreamed of being a superhero as a kid, 'Nose Girl' wasn't how I saw it shaking out.
“God you're uncouth; you make her sound like a gigantic pair of nostrils,” Deirdre said, and then turned to me. “Don't listen to her; your nose isn't big at all, it's …pert and cute.”
“Cute?” Astra said. “Why, Ms. Spock, if I didn't know better, I'd say you let an emotion slip out.”
“Stop, you two,” Julia said. “Deirdre, make sure the teams are combined after Sydney's testing is complete. Astra, I want you to switch gears to explore ways for us to deliver a counter virus into the mass population.”
Julia stood. “Back to work, ladies. We are under attack, and, for humanity's sake, we cannot lose this fight. Meeting dismissed.”
I sat stunned and silent after everyone had left but Julia. Finally I whispered,
“You …you …really are trying to save humanity, Jules!”
“We are. Everyone in this room, in this building is. You are too. This is what my work is all about.”
She took my hand in hers and stroked it gently. “GAP is making amazing gene mapping discoveries on an almost daily basis, but we're still like kids playing with the fires of creation. And you know what happens when kids play with fire...”
Her eyes bore into me. “Get some rest before our dinner. I need you energetic and focused in your testing; I've always seen MASG as a critical puzzle piece to the Y problem. We need any and all information we can get. Understand ...Nose Girl?”
I nodded my head; I finally got it. The stakes were mind numbingly high, and this once, I could actually contribute something, I could make a difference. Still, though ...Nose Girl? There had to be a cooler name.
Wow! Am I that petty? Here they are, describing the potential end of humanity, and I'm worrying about my 'super' name.
I guess I am, because it really bothered me. Sure, I'd have my male body back in a couple of days, but how would that help? Instead of Nose Girl, I'd be, what? Nose Guy? The Smell Meister? Super Sniffer? Having an unglamorous super power sucked.
No, sorry, 'sucked' is the wrong metaphor for Nose Girl to use...
It stunk.
My first full day as a woman had been a roller coaster, and I had high hopes for some R&R before my dinner with Julia. After the meeting finished I shuffled to my room, to find Deirdre had beaten me there. She leaned against the hallway wall, with arms crossed, giving me her pissed off sexy look. Uh-oh.
“What do you want? I've been a 'good girl'. I haven't talked to a soul, so the hallowed Building ‘A’ experiment is safe.”
“You must stay in your room tonight. That's an order. Julia will join you here later for dinner.”
“What? No no no! You don't understand; I need fresh air! I want to get out, go to the gym, maybe, see what this body can do.”
“You are dense,” Deirdre said, pushing off from the wall and toward me. “You will stay in. Pop some popcorn, slip your red silk number back on, curl up on the couch, and watch Steel Magnolias; you can order it on demand. That ought to give you a good idea about what the hormones of your cute little temporary body are capable of.”
“You're joking, right? That's a recipe for insanity. Wait! You know about my chemise?”
“You don't get it! A day ago, you would have been a suspect, but in this cute body? You are a prime target.” Deirdre ran a hand through my hair. Prime...”
I pushed her hand away, and then shoved past her to my door.
“Point taken, you don’t want me here, but these Gestapo intimidation tactics border on hate.”
“I do NOT hate you, but if you are too stupid to appreciate the danger then-”
“-Good NIGHT Dr. Rogers,” I screamed, and slammed my door.
TUESDAY 7:20 P.M., GENTECH CAMPUS - WOODED WALKING PATH NEAR BUILDING B.
I chanted my new mantra as I strolled down the sidewalk:
Screw Deirdre Screw Deirdre Screw Deirdre
I had dreamed for months about the fun this switch would be, and I wasn't going to let her ruin it. Sure, the whole rape thing was horrible, but Deirdre over dramatized the danger to cow me into staying in my room. I may not have been Jet Li as a man, but I could take care of myself. And anyway, it wasn't like it was midnight and I was walking down some seedy ally. The sun was shining, and green grass and wide open spaces surrounded me.
The sun sat low on the horizon and a cool spring evening was settling in. GenTech wasn't far from the coast, and I loved breathing in the ocean-salty air, though I was the only one who could smell it this far inland. I hadn't changed from my jeans and blouse, but wore a green North Face windbreaker for warmth. Already stepping out seemed like a good move.
I jumped when I heard his voice.
“S'cuse me, Miss? Can you help me?”
A man appeared from a merging path; not tall, under six feet, brown wavy hair and goatee, he wore a navy blue Nike workout suit and running shoes.
“I'm trying to find building G, could you point me in the right direction?”
He had a sweaty smell, which wasn't surprising, from the way he was dressed, but he also had an odd minty odor…
“I'm a visitor here myself, but 'G' is…”
Something bothered me; I felt flush, though I didn't know why. There was so much about my body I didn't understand.
“Miss? Are you okay, Maybe can help you?”
Something was wrong with his smile. I took two steps back.
“No …no, I'm fine, I …uh…” Did I smell a spermous scent too? I … thinking was hard, because there was something I had to do …now.
“Maybe you want something? I have just the thing.”
I blinked. Was I looking at his …pants? Was I wanting what was in them?
I stopped breathing through my nose, switching to take air through my mouth. The world stabilized, and whatever hunger had attacked me dulled.
“Stay away.” I heard my voice rasp, and stumbled backwards off the path, onto the spring grass.
Something was horribly wrong here, and I had to get away. I managed to pick myself up and start staggering toward 'A'.
“Maybe I didn't take a big enough swig?” I heard him mutter behind me. “Let's see what a double dose does.”
I heard his shoes slap the sidewalk and then felt hands grabbing my arms. I struggled to pull away, but the strange odor was back, much stronger now, blowing away my resistance. The smell, I …couldn't think …I …”
“Yes, breathe the nectar.”
One thought burned my brain. I needed something, needed it with all my being. Only he had it.
“Pleeeease,” I moaned.
He released me. “Take your jacket and shirt off.”
I wasn't sure if I unbuttoned or ripped them off, but they were quickly on the grass.
“Now the bra and jeans. Panties too.”
They came off even faster.
“Nice.” He licked his lips. “You couldn't be much more than …eighteen? You're the most fuckable piece of ass I've seen here.”
A distant part of me realized I was naked and crawling to him, but I couldn't stop.
“It's right here baby, all hard and ready-”
I reached for top of his workout pants and pulled them down, freeing his stiff cock. That's what I needed!, my brain told me. I wrapped my hands around the thick shaft.
“Open wide-”
A clanging sound made me blink; in the distance, something flashed yellow and red.
“What the fuck?” the man said, pulling back. No! Come back. Need!
“Back away from her or I'll shoot,” a woman's voice echoed from far away.
“Shit!” He jumped back farther and yanked his pants up.
I pawed for his pants again, grabbing a hand instead, and …there was something small in it.
“Please, please…” I croaked.
“Rain check, little slut. Gotta run.” He grabbed me hard. “You do not remember my face.”
His words made my eyes go fuzzy, blurry. I couldn't focus on him. “Don't …remember…”
He released me and I slumped to the ground. The sound of him running away, the realization the thing I needed was gone, made me frantic.
“noooo …come back…”
I heard footsteps; someone was running to me. It dawned on me my body was shivering.
“Sydney! Are you alright?”
Deirdre's voice brought some of my thinking brain back online.
“what- …what's happening?” Why am I naked and lying in the grass?
“Dammit, I should have watched you closer.” Deirdre wrapped her arms around me and pulled her close. Her body heat felt so good. “Did he …rape you?”
Rape? Did he?
“He …I don't …he didn't …go in me, but I took his … I… I wanted to…” I flung my arms around her. “Oh God!”
“Sshh.” Through my shivers, Deirdre managed to get my clothes back on me. At some point I realized the clanging and flashing lights were the GenTech security station alarms.
“Let's get you inside before the Security goons show up.”
“Security? They'll …question me about …and I'd have to tell them I…” Panic overwhelmed me as I pictured creepy Styles asking all sorts of questions. “Get me out of here!”
“I've got you, love, let's go.”
“Wait!” When I reached for his c-” no way could I even say the word, much less what I almost did with it. I shook my head then uncurled my hand. “When I reached for him, I grabbed this.”
Deirdre took the small vial and held it to her eye. “Empty, but we'll get the composition of this stuff from the residue. If it's any consolation, you may have given us our first real chance to stop this bastard.”
TUESDAY 8:40 P.M. GENTECH BUILDING A, DEIRDRE ROGER'S FLAT
I tried to answer Deirdre's questions, but my mind was in off mode and wouldn't switch back on. I'd try to concentrate, but my thoughts floated away. Then I smelled cinnamon. When Julia's arms wrapped around me, I hugged her back hard, and buried my head in her chest.
“What do we know?” Julia sounded winded; I wondered if she had sprinted to Deirdre's room.
“Sydney was assaulted, just like Lauren and Kara. I set off the panic alarms and scared whoever he was away before he had …intercourse with her, but it was still bad. He made her strip and crawl to him.”
“Change me back,” I whispered, “right now. I want to go home.”
“You're safe, baby, shhh,” Julia said, and stroked my hair.
“I'm done, Julia, I can't take this!”
Julia had the saddest look on her face when she nodded her head, and I immediately felt like shit, but it didn't change my mind. I did not sign up for this.
“If you still feel that way in the morning, sweetie, I'll change you back.”
Deirdre opened her mouth to say something, but stop herself. What did she want from me?
“Can you remember what the man looked like?” Julia asked.
“No, it's …when I try to remember, it's a blur.” I couldn't; my head filled with white noise when I tried to think about his face.
“Just like Lauren and Kara,” Deirdre said. “Dammit! Why did I let her out of my sight?”
“Not your fault; I should have listened,” I whispered.
“What kind of substance can do this?” Julia said, then her body stiffened. “Wait! Looked like? God what an idiot I've been. Deirdre, it's Sydney, let's ask her what she remembers from her other senses.”
“Of course!” Deirdre said, excited. “Sydney, what does Julia smell like to you?”
I wasn't sure where this was going, but I was too numb to argue.
“Cinnamon.”
Julia's eyebrow raised. “What's this about?”
“She assigns smells to the people she likes and dislikes as a way of classifying them. Right Sydney?”
I gave a little nod, but didn't raise my head from Julia's chest.
“Cinnamon, hmm?” Julia stroked my hair again. “And Deirdre?”
“Roses.” I whispered.
“Interesting,” Julia said, “So this is your short hand version of us, of our scents?”
I gave another jerky nod.
“For you, everyone has a unique scent signature, right?”
I nodded again.
“Now the rapist …if we were back at the lab, how would you categorize him?”
“I told you I don't…oh …ohhhh,” I finally got it; God am I slow! I closed my eyes. When I thought of his scent, the white noise faded. “Um …a musky smell, intense, maybe 84 on the LM, but also, a minty odor, with a 60 rating-”
“-You'd recognize his scent again if you were around him?” Deirdre interrupted.
“Absolutely. He smells like SHIT to me.”
“What can you tell us about the odor that caused you to lose control?” Julia asked.
“You mean the one that made me want to fuck his brains out?” I hadn't meant it too, but my voice turned shrill.
I saw Julia shoot Deirdre a worried look. “Er, yes.”
“A spermous smell, the first time maybe an LM 45? But then-”
“First time?” Deirdre asked.
“When he first came up to me, I knew something funny was happening, so I started breathing through my mouth, and was able to run.”
“Smart girl,” Julia said.
Deirdre had a 'light bulb going on' look on her face. “Because …breathing through the mouth bypassed the … the smell receptors in the nose? This could be a useful defense technique. I'll pass it along to everyone in A.”
“It only worked for a little while. He said something about it not being a big enough dose, and he drank from the …vial I gave you? He grabbed me and I …lost control …and …and…”
“Oh, honey, I'm so sorry this happened to you-” Julia said.
She unwrapped her arms from me and stood. Then she pulled Deirdre to the other side of the living room. Though they were talking in low tones, I heard them; everyone focuses on my crazy mad smell sense, but my hearing is damn good too.
“I've got to get this vial down to the lab to see if we can pick up a residue; we've got to figure out what the hell this stuff is and what we can do to neutralize it. Probably an all nighter. She can't be left alone tonight,” Julia whispered, “so I want you to stay with her.”
“I need to go to the OPs room to check the monitors. We should expect a knock at our front door for sure from Styles, and-”
Julia shook her head. “-I'll call Samantha and have her go down; YOU STAY HERE! She's in bad shape; a sexual assault wasn't even on her radar.”
“I understand, and I won't let you …or her …down again,” Deirdre said. “No one will hurt her. NO ONE.”
That roused my from my lethargy; Deirdre almost sounded territorial.
TUESDAY, 9:10 P.M. GENTECH BUILDING H, DEIRDRE'S ROGER'S FLAT
The white noise was back and getting worse. I think I'm sitting on Deirdre's couch, but everything is fuzzy. Deirdre keeps asking questions, and I feel my lips moving, but I'm not sure what I'm saying. I feel her bump me and realize she is sitting next to me.
“Why were you outside alone?”
“Stir crazy. Needed air.” I heard my voice whisper. “Went for a walk.”
“After I warned you not to?”
I nodded but didn't look up.
“So you ignored my warning and put yourself at risk. What would have happened if you had been injured or killed? A lot of time and resources have been invested in your participation in Julia's project. Did you think of your obligation to her?”
“No, I …didn't …but-”
“You were irresponsible and immature. Since you can't behave as an adult, I’ll treat you as a child.”
“I …what?”
“You've been a naughty girl. What happened to naughty girls in your family?”
“Wait …naughty? W-what do you mean?”
“In my family, naughty girls got a spanking.”
In a quick move, Deirdre whipped me face down over her knees, and twisted one of my arms behind my back.
“Hey!” The white noise was gone now. “This isn't funny, let me up!”
I felt Deirdre rubbing her hand on my upturned ass. “After you say 'I've been a naughty girl.'”
“Jesus! Someone just tried to-”
--SMACK--
“OW! That hurt! This has gone far en-”
--SMACK--
“Ye-OW! Stop it, dammit!”
But Deirdre didn't, until six stinging spanks later when I begged,
“Stop …please? I …I've been a …a …naughty girl.” Salty wet pooled in my eyes.
“Cry for me.”
“Cry? Haven't in years. Don't think I can.”
--SMACK--
“It wasn't a request: Let. It. Out.”
I didn't mean to; it just started happening: first my body shuddered, and sobs hiccupped out. Deirdre lifted me up and held me to her chest, rocking me back and forth.
“There's my girl, all out.”
Everything spilled out in gushes. “Why? Why did I crawl to him? I'm not really a woman and I'm not gay, but I wanted him …to …to …what's wrong with me, am I sick?”
“Shhhh! You were in heat, needing to mate. You were as primal a woman as they come. Relax. You're safe with me.”
A sigh left my lips, and I nuzzled deeper into Deirdre's chest.
She didn't seem to mind at all.
“Hey! I'm hungry!”
Energy suddenly filled me and I untangled and bounced up from the coach.
“Have you eaten?” I asked, as I headed for her kitchen. “Let me rustle up something special for my knight in shining armor.”
Deirdre raised an eyebrow, at my giddiness, I guessed.
“You realize you are having a manic episode, most likely a counter reaction to your trauma.”
I ignored her. “I'm not a bad cook, you know.”
I'm sure she did know; it must have been in my dossier; ‘Sidney’ drifted for years after leaving Julia's project. I dropped out of college, moved to Province in southern France, and became, among other things, a wine taster, a perfume fragrance consultant, and a sous chef.
“I don't have anything exotic,” Deirdre said, when she heard me rustling around in her pantry, “just basics. I usually have time to woof down a protein and something green.”
“How sad for you,” I called back. “Hey, bonus! You've got French bread that hasn't turned furry, semi fresh tomatoes, and garlic cloves; I can do some damage here. Any fresh herbs? Where's your olive oil?”
“Dried herbs are in the spice cabinet. Why did you have to go for a walk, Sydney?”
“Staying in stale buildings wears on me; I truly do need fresh air. Why did you have to lock me up?”
I wasn't sure what she said next, but it kind of sounded like: “The better to keep you to myself.”
“What?”
“I said, 'the olive oil's on the top shelf,'” she answered, in a louder voice.
“Ah! Great, thanks.”
Ten minutes later, I walked back into the living room, plate in hand.
“Viola, fresh Bruschetta.” I sat next to her on the couch.
“That smells wonderful; what's the composition?”
Composition? Jesus, these scientists are annoying!
“It's so simple. You slice the bread, drizzle on oil and pop it in the oven. While it's toasting, you dice some tomatoes, a little garlic, toss in a dash of oregano, basil -I love basil- parsley, and spread it on when the bread is done. It's so much better with fresh herbs.”
“Okay, so, hand one over.”
“Ah-ah. Close your eyes and smell.”
Deirdre took a deep breath. “I smell garlic.”
“Duh. And?”
“And …the basil, and the oregano? And-”
“Good enough, now with those scents in your mind, and with eyes closed, open your mouth.”
When she did, I slid a piece in. “Slowly, Deirdre, it's not a race; chew slowly.”
“Mmm,” Deirdre said, after several crunches. “The flavors are so rich.”
I sighed. “We smell and taste so little of what we eat.”
Oops! A tomato piece spilled off a bread slice. When I picked it up, Deirdre brought my hand to her mouth and licked the tomato off, then she leaned over and kissed me. For perhaps the fourth time in my life, I was speechless, only blinking in response.
“What the hell am I doing?” Deirdre growled as she pulled back. “Sorry; I shouldn't have done that. You've just had a traumatic experience, and I jump to intimate mode and presume to-”
I barked a laugh. “You spanked me! I'd hardly call an innocent kiss 'presumptuous' after that.”
“Yes …erm …about spanking you. I'm sorry I resorted to that, but you were in shock and I felt I needed to deploy some radical treatment to-”
“-Look, since I'll only be female a few more hours, we don't have scads of time. I'd like the memories of those hours to be something wonderful instead of what that bastard tried to do to me. And I never said I didn't like the kiss, I did; I was just surprised. I’m guessing by your kiss you are into girls, and, since I am one for the moment, let's try it again; I'm ready now.”
Not only ready, but primed. But when I leaned toward her, she drew back.
“No! You were sexually assaulted, for God's sake! Instead of further twisted relationship complications, you need a good night's rest. You are going to bed, and that's an order.”
I considered pressing the point, but shrugged instead. I couldn't keep up with her mood swings, and after what had happened to me, I didn't have the energy to try.
When we finished the Bruschetta, Deirdre led me to her bedroom. She gave me a T-shirt to sleep in that barely covered my butt; and for some reason, I got feeling Deirdre liked looking at me in it.
Good. Because I didn't want to be alone. Since I remembered I now had big green eyes, I tried to use them to my advantage.
“Sleep with me. Please?”
“No, dammit, no!”
Deirdre pushed me into the bedroom and closed me in.
“Where will you sleep?” I called through the door.
“Here on the couch. Where, instead of getting much needed rest, my mind will be dreaming of a beautiful blond-headed woman, in and out of a T-shirt, all night long.”
Wait! She was talking about …me? How coincidental. Because I knew I'd be dreaming of a beautiful dark haired woman, in and out of a white lab coat -and nothing else- all night long.
I didn't though. Or I did, but only for a little while.
Then the nightmare started; a faceless man was chasing me, down corridor after corridor in building 'A', his hands getting closer …reaching for me …closer, until…
Hands were shaking me.
“Sydney! Wake up! You're having a bad dream. You were screaming.”
“He’s coming for me, he’s-”
“-Shhhh, it's over, you're safe.” She stared at me a moment, and then nodded. “Okay, you win. Scoot over.”
I grabbed her and pulled her into bed. “Thank you,” I whispered, and didn't say another word.
But with Deirdre's arms around me, and the fragrance of roses surrounding me, I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
WEDNESDAY 6:56 A.M., DR. CARTER'S OFFICE, BASEMENT, GENTECH BUILDING 'A'
“Did you know there are hundreds of pheromones with which insects attract their mates? I bet you also weren't aware there are spiders that produce a moth sex pheromone to lure the poor things to their sticky silky death?”
The clock's little hand hadn't even reached seven in the morning - until this visit to GenTech, I didn't know the day had two 7:00s in it- so no way could I formulate a response to Julia.
Instead of launching a clever retort, I sat back and looked at her across her way too neat desk. From her dark circles and red eyes, she looked like she hadn't gotten a moment of sleep. More than that, she looked defeated. Deirdre, who sat next to me, was charged with anger energy; I assumed it was because she was pissed at me.
When I woke this morning, she had reverted to the 'cold' Dr. Rogers -God, was this woman bi-polar or what?- and was all business about hurrying me to Julia's office. We hadn't spoken except for one brief argument. I wanted to go back to my room to shower and change into fresh clothes, and she said no. Her reasoning was there was no need, since I soon would be converted to my male 'Sidney' body. She grudgingly compromised by letting me wear some clean workout pants and another t-shirt. I looked absurd.
“I assume you have studied the composition analysis from the vial?” Deirdre asked.
Julia nodded wearily and pushed a printout across the table. When she did, though, her eyes were on me instead of Deirdre, and they were so sad.
“Peptides αsk1 and αsk3? I don't recognize this compound.”
“It is a synthetic pheromone,” Julia said. “Humans produce small amounts of natural pheromones. Men secrete Androstenon, which, as we speculated yesterday, is delivered through sensory receptors in the nose, to stimulate the hypothalamus in the cortex of the brain.”
“Excuse me? Is there any chance I could stimulate my brain with some coffee? That way I might have a fighting chance to decipher your gibberish.”
“Sure, Syd,” Julia mustered a smile. There's a Starbucks machine in the kitchen station down the hall.
I nodded, and bolted away for a cup. Didn't need directions, because I could follow the smell; I was like one of those old cartoons where the character floated through the air when she got a whiff of apple pie. When I returned, with the elixir of life in hand, I found my two scientists were deep in the science shit; Deirdre was shaking her head as she stared at the printout.
“...then this compound will increase a woman's arousal by a factor of 10 over Androstenon! This will set woman's rights back a thousand years!”
“Factor of 10? That's huge, right?” I said, plopping down again.
“Think about the difference between David Banner and the Hulk, Syd, and you'll have a fair comparison,” Julia said.
“Let’s make a pact that from now on, you'll reduce every scientific explanation to a comic book analogy? It would make things so much easier.”
“I would agree, but since you won't be here for much longer, what’s the point?” Julia said, and then sighed. “Are you ready, Sydney? I've been stalling and shouldn't delay you any longer. The GAP lab is prepped and ready for your reversal. I'm so sorry; I should never have put you in harm’s way!”
“No, I am not ready. I cannot go looking like this!”
“Syd. You'll just wear that a few minutes longer before you-”
“-Nuh-uh.” I held up the wrist that had the pumpkin countdown watch. It blinked 54:05. “I have tons more minutes. I will not be seen like this.”
Julia's puzzled expression was priceless; Deirdre's too. They acted like I was speaking in tongues. Score! God how I wished I had brought a camera!
“I don't understand, sweetie, last night you said you wanted to be changed back and I thought-”
“-That was last night. This morning I woke up mad as hell...”
I had. The idea of what he had done, to me, and far worse to the other women, made my teeth grind. Could I run out on my friend? She placed her faith in me, and it was my stupidity that put me at risk for what happened. When was I going to take responsibility and see something through? Now might be a dandy time, since, you know, the fate of the world might actually hang in the balance.
“…and I'm not going to be run off by the bastard! You said the data from my experiment was critical to Project Y, right?”
“Yes, but that was before-”
“-No buts! I need to be going to the MASG lab, but not before I shower and change. I mean…” I primped my bedheaded blonde hair. “…a girl's got her priorities, ya know?”
Julia jumped from her desk seat and ran to hug me.
“Are you serious? Please say 'yes' because, I can't bear to say goodbye to you like this.”
I smiled at her. “I've never been more serious. I'm going to finish the MASG tests and help you in any other way I can; use me like a blood hound to catch this creep…”
Hmm. Blood Hound. The Blood Hound. Catchy, sort of sexy and noir. And soo much better than Nose Girl. But then, anything would be.
“…or whatever. You've got me for every last tick on my watch. After that? When I'm back to Sidney? If we haven't caught him, I will track him down and beat the shit out of him. I’m here for you, Jules, no matter what; I’m not going anywhere.”
She touched her forehead to mine. “Thank you.”
Deirdre's ice expression had melted. “Why didn't you tell me this when we woke up?”
“I tried to, but you went all android on me with one word responses.”
“I only did so because I thought I was losing you forever and-”
Julia's phone rang; the call ID screen read 'Richard Styles'.
I could tell Julia's blood pressure jumped at the call; she grimaced and pressed the conference call button.
“Yes Mr. Styles? Hopefully you are calling to report the rapist has been apprehended?”
“You should be so lucky. I was calling because GenTech's panic alarms were activated last night and I received an anonymous tip your assistant -the one I met in our meeting yesterday, Cindy Johnson?- was sexually assaulted last night. Do you have any information for me on this?”
I frowned; how had he learned this? Julia and Deirdre looked baffled as well.
“Yeah, this is …Cindy, and, no, nothing like that happened to me.”
“Reeally?” His voiced dripped with sarcasm; he knew I was lying! “Excellent news, then. I would again caution you, Ms. Johnson. Or ...is it Sidney Edwards?...”
He knew!
“…Your inexperience with that beautiful new body makes you especially vulnerable to the attacker. Please be extra careful.”
Wait! Was he threatening me? I felt Julia's arms wrap around my shoulders. The look on Deirdre's face though… I was wrong when I first met Deirdre and thought from the glint in her eyes that she wanted to kill me. Because, the way her eyes were boring into the phone? She wanted to slow roast Dick Styles over a bed of hot coals.
“If you have specific information relating to a danger to Ms. Edwards, I suggest you share it with her, Mr. Styles.”
“Ah, Dr. Rogers! You are there too. Of course you are.” Styles chuckled. “You and your play security team have a real live threat on your hands. What will you do?”
We heard the phone click as the bastard hung up on us. Julia squeezed my hand.
“Dammit dammit dammit! We are compromised,” Deirdre said. “The fact he knows about you confirms we have a spy.”
“I'm afraid Deirdre's right, Syd. If you are being targeted, then maybe you should get changed back anyway,” Julia said, her voice going sad again. “While we know what the synthetic compound does, we don't know how to block the mating response. It may be weeks before we map the gene affected by this. If the attacker hurts you again I don't think I could forgive myself.”
“CP404.”
“What?” Julia and Deirdre said together.
“It's a temporary fix. CP404 is an experimental weight loss spray I learned about a couple of years ago. Guys with expert noses like me in the fragrance biz keep a close watch on stuff that deadens the sense of smell; our living depends on it. The idea behind CP404 is to coat the olfactory bulb in the nose that controls smell and taste...”
'Olfactory bulb.' See? See? I know stuff too!
“... to suppress the trigger to eat. If you have a reduced sense of smell or taste, you eat less. So if you get this formula and increase its potency, to, er, Hulk strength, the gals in 'A' will be immune to the scent. And they'll drop a few pounds too; win, win!”
They stared at me like I had a horn growing out of my forehead. Score! Finally, Julia managed to speak.
“I think that might actually work. Sydney, that's brilliant!” Her face was beaming now, and not tired at all. “I love the simplicity of it. You …really are going to stay?”
I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue at Deirdre; there would be plenty of opportunities to infuriate the egg-headed and uber hot scientist later. This was my noble moment, so I tried to make my smile as bright as I could.
“Yup. I'm ready to help you save the world. Or, I will be, once I shower and get some decent clothes on.”
Julia and Deirdre burst into laughter. Maybe it was a second wind. Or maybe they were recharged because I hadn't bailed. Whatever the reason, the fire was back in their eyes.
WEDNESDAY, 7:40 A.M. SYDNEY EDWARD'S FLAT, BUILDING 'A'
“Coming!”
I had just stepped out of the shower when I heard the doorbell. I threw on my bathrobe and went for the door. When I got a few steps away, a dual scent hit me, of roses and roses. Weird.
“Coming ...Deirdre.”
When I opened it, a dozen red stemmed flowers were thrust in my face. What the hell?
“Those are, um, pretty-”
“For you,” Deirdre said, handing them off. “I wanted to …to thank you for the spray idea you came up with. That truly was a fantastic idea. You can't know how relieved everyone in 'A' will be to have this protection. The gals in the GAP lab are springing into action to get the formula and start producing batches.”
“Glad to help. No one should be made to do what that bitch scent does to you.”
Deirdre looked at the flowers in my hand. “Aren't you going to smell them? That's the normal reaction a girl has when she's given roses.”
“I already did, through the door.”
An awkward silence settled in.
“So ...I also wanted to thank you for ...staying.”
“Yeah, like I told Julia, I-”
Deirdre grabbed me and pulled me to her for a kiss.
Not just any smooch, it was a 'tongue deep inside the mouth, take no prisoners' kiss. I tried to push away, but when I couldn't break her grasp -okay, I didn't try that hard- I gave in and kissed back.
When I finally came up for air, I squeaked, “Jesus! When you thank someone, you really thank them.”
“Sshh,” Deirdre said, and pushed me against a wall. “You are so pretty I could eat you up.”
I gulped; I didn't know how to respond to that; I'd always been on the other side of those compliments.
“Er, yeah thanks, I-”
Deirdre put her hand over my mouth.
“What can I say? The spanks probably clued you that I’ve got kinks; I'm a dom; an obsessive compulsive control freak. When I see something I want, I take it. Right now, I want you, to come with me to the Founder's Ball tomorrow night.”
I blinked. In the Deirdre mood pendulum, she was swinging way back to the hot side. “You're asking me …on a date?”
“I suspect since we are in lockdown mode, whoever is attacking us will be forced to wait to strike at the Ball. So we need Nose Girl to be on guard duty tomorrow night. You said you'd recognize him again if you got his scent, right?”
“Yeah, definitely.”
“Even in a large crowd?”
“Even in Times Square, on New Year's Eve, at midnight.” I didn't think I was exaggerating; my smell sense had improved that much. I hoped to God this wouldn’t involve wearing spandex and the letters ‘NG’.
“Excellent, perfect!”
My shoulders sagged. “So, that's the only reason you are asking me?”
In answer, Deirdre pushed me against the wall again, kissing me roughly. Something about the way she held me, commanding and possessive, sent electricity zinging through my new body.
“O-okay, so business and pleasure.” The breathlessness of my response surprised me. “I'm good with that.”
“There’s my girl. Tomorrow, after you finish your MASG work, I'll take you out to get a dress. I've got just the one in mind.”
“I brought several outfits; surely one of those would work.”
Deirdre shook her head. “No offense, but I've looked through your suitcase and what you brought is pretty ...boring.”
“You looked through my-”
She stopped my lips with a couple of playful slaps on my cheek.
“If you are going to be my date, I want you looking hot. Also, it will be easier for you to detect the attacker’s smell, if the fly is drawn to you, honey.”
“You ...always seem to have dual purposes for everything you do.”
“Oh, and babe, wear that red silk number again for me tonight; you look ravishing in it. Be sure you stand in front of the mirror and twirl around.”
“Wait …what?” Understanding cracked my thick skull. “I knew you had a camera hidden in here.”
“What did you expect? I am Julia's evil enforcer,” she said, as she left my room.
A date. Deirdre asked me on a date. And I wanted to go. With her.
I stood staring after the closed door, mouth open, flowers in hand for the longest time.
Surrounded by the scent of roses.
End Part 2
***
Fragrance - Part 3
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Fragrance Part 3,
by Armond
Syd and Deirdre plot to trap the ‘GenTech Raper’ with a combination of scent and honey. Their plan works to perfection, unless …it was all a diversion?
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here
***
Smell is surer than sight or sound. - Kipling
Fragrance
Part 3
THURSDAY 11:49 A.M., GENTECH BUILDING ‘A’, BIOGENETICS LAB ROOM 313
“Odor plume theory?”
What in God's name was our perky grad assistant yammering about? “No clue here, Mandy.”
“Oh, yeah, big debate in the field,” the red head continued. “One research camp says it's the bee's dance that gives directions to the nectar, while the other camp claims the dance is the bee's way of saying 'hey, look at me' so she can pass the nectar odor to the other workers, who follow the odor plume to the flower.”
I was starting to worry; if someone had struck up a conversation with me a month ago about GPS systems in bees, I would have yawned in her face. Now, this seemed interesting; was geekiness contagious?
“And you want to know if I can confirm this plume theory?”
When Amanda nodded, I thought a moment, and shrugged. “Plumes definitely exist everywhere…”
In my new body, my smell sense was so jazzed, I felt fragrant plumes battering me from all directions.
“…but that doesn't prove or disprove either camp's argument, does it?”
She blinked for several seconds, and smiled. “For all your blond flightiness, you are pretty bright, Syd.”
I had only been a blond-let me amend that, blond woman - for a few days, and already people thought I was ditsy? Jeez!
“Why thank you, Ms. Benedict. I value your opinion, and assume you no longer think I am immune to the Mad Cow Disease.”
Amanda furrowed her eyebrows. “Mad Cow Disease? I don't follow.”
“Didn't you know? Blonds are immune to MCD…”
When Amanda shot me a 'what the fuck' expression, I knew I had her.
“…because it only affects the brain.”
She tried not to, but her lips curled into a grin. Score! She shook her head, finished entering whatever data she was scribbling on her iPad, and glanced up.
“Fini. The last of your tests. All done,” Amanda announced to the room. Then she leaned closer and whispered, “I like you Syd, so some advice.”
I guessed what was coming, because everyone told me the same thing - 'quit screwing around, get back to school, and finish your degree,' or some variation on the theme. I braced for it.
“I heard you were going to Founder's Ball tonight with Deirdre. If I were you, I'd stay away from her. Carter too. They are evil.”
Evil? Okay, so, not the talk I figured.
“Like wicked evil? Or chocolate cake evil? Or-”
“Satan evil.”
Something had tickled my brain about Amanda all day and I finally pinned it down - she had no scent! How was that possible?
Wait, I detected a faint chemical odor masking her. I knew hunters sometimes doused themselves in a product to hide their human scent from their prey, but …why would Amanda need to do this? Could this have something to do with me?
“What they are doing goes against the laws of God,” Amanda continued, hissed more than whispered, “it is a sinful perversion of His creation.”
Deirdre walked into the lab, then, her eyes found mine, and she flashed a smile. My return smile was a reflex reaction.
“Sydney is finished, and is free to goof off for the rest of the day,” Amanda said in her chirpy voice. As she helped me up from the testing chair, she whispered, “last warning, get out while you can.”
Before I could blink a reaction, Alcina and the rest of the MASG team were applauding, and Deirdre was hustling me out the door. No way was I going to let this be my grand exit!
I stopped, whirled to face the group, and bowed.
“Thank you, thank you, and smell you all later.”
Deirdre pulled me through the door when I wouldn't stop blowing kisses. Once outside the lab, Deirdre latched onto my arm and led me down the hallway.
“You need a few things for tonight, so we get those first.”
“A few things? Umm ...like what?”
“Like …everything. Evening dress and high heels, your hair styled, and ears pierced to wear earrings I want on you.”
“Is all this really necessary? All I need to do is wander around enough to pick up the bastard's scent.”
“I explained this before; you have an incredible body and I want it on full display to lure him to you. And ...would it kill you to look pretty for me?”
I heard the ache in her words, but what could I do? She pulled me close one moment and pushed me away the next. So I resorted to my default sarcasm.
“Ah, well. If saving the world means shopping, I will suck it up and make the sacrifice. You're paying, right?”
THURSDAY 5:44 P.M. GENTECH BUILDING ‘A’, DEIRDRE ROGER'S FLAT
“Quit fiddling with your ears. Do they hurt?”
I shook my head and let my hand drop. “So weird.”
The reflection in the dressing table mirror mesmerized me: my golden hair was cut with uneven layering, giving it a full look. I wore a black silk bra, matching black silk bikini cut panties, and nothing else.
I know this sounds vain and narcissistic, but there was no getting around it, I'm gorgeous. I caught my hand again starting to travel to the unfamiliar weights hanging from my ears; black onyx stud earrings in each lobe.
“Deirdre? Back at the parlor ...you seemed very …possessive …about the way you wanted me to look.”
Deirdre was behind me with her hands on my shoulders. When I felt her hot breath on my ear, I shivered. “Mmmm. And I like what I see.”
Then the words spilled from my stupid mouth before I could stop them.
“Are you always this controlling in your relationships? If you ask me, you're a bit over the top and need to dial it back.”
Deirdre stiffened and pulled away. “Since you disappear after tomorrow, do me a favor and keep your idiot advice to yourself.”
“I'm …sorry, I didn't mean anything by-”
“-And who asked you, anyway? The person who never committed to anyone in his life? Never accomplished shit in his life?”
Bi-polar much? God, what was wrong with her? I turned away so she wouldn't see how badly her words had hurt.
“Yeah …okay …I get it.” Despite my best efforts, my eyes teared. “I'm your blood hound; nothing more. I'll do my part, don't worry, Dr. Rogers.”
“Oh Sydney,” Deirdre took my face in her hands, “I'm so sorry I said that, I-”
I pushed her hands away. “-Let's get this over with, shall we?”
“Did you know I was the first person to receive Julia's gene alteration procedure?”
“Eh? What?” The non-sequitur confused me and momentarily stopped the emotional waterworks.
“I was the first. I was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy when I was five. By 10, I could only walk with braces, and by 12, I was strapped into a wheelchair for good. 25 is the 'use by' date for people with DMD, so when I turned 28, I was beating the odds -yea me!- but I also was developing severe lung disorders, and probably wouldn't reach 29. That was when Julia offered me my golden ticket to the GAP chamber.”
“Oh ...I had no idea...” I still wasn't connecting the dots on why I was getting this speech, though it did reinforce my view that Julia was downright awesome.
“Hang with me awhile on this. Imagine a geeky wheelchair science nerd who had never been on a date suddenly being given a new life looking like this.”
Deirdre gestured to the body I continued to process as 'Kate Beckinsale clone'. “So ...big adjustment?”
“I would hazard to say mine was bigger than yours. Before my conversion, I was female in the technical sense, but I was so asexual, I might as well have been a bowling ball. After my treatment, I was suddenly popular, desirable. I had zero social skills; through a series of tragic-comic relationships, I discovered I was a lesbian; who knew?”
I figured she was right; her change sounded harder. 'Sidney' had always been popular; with my easy manner, I never had a problem in social settings or making friends.
“Last year, I stumbled into my first real relationship with Anne, from Product Development. I was crazy mad for her, and she introduced me to ... so many things: fashion, life outside work, mmm, kinky sex. For the first time in my life, I was living! But where I wanted something permanent, she ...did not. You've seen me in action the past few days, so I'm sure you would agree I have OCD issues. The more I tried to control the situation, the worse it got, until she ran -literally- from me. She left GenTech and moved to the east coast.”
“God, Deirdre, I'm sorry you-”
“-Wait! Hold the pity for a moment; I'm getting to my little sob tale's punch line. After she left I shut off my emotions again and buried myself in work. Then you waltz in, and I start having the same feelings again, only worse, because tomorrow you become a completely different person -she tapped my countdown watch- and to protect myself...”
Ah! The light bulb clicked on. “-You've been swinging between nice and nasty?”
“I was going to say hot and cold,” Deirdre answered. “Hot because your hot little body spins my spokes, and cold because I realize I'm falling for you and reflexively try to pull away.”
I sat for several moments processing that. “You're ...falling for me?”
When Deirdre slowly nodded, my eyes turned wet again. “I feel the same ...SHIT! I'm crying again! What are we going to do?”
Deirdre let out a heavy sigh. “Nothing. Pretend tomorrow doesn't exist. Do our job tonight. If you do, I'll reward you with …what did you say the other night? You wanted a night to remember? Still game?”
“Yeah ...hell yeah...” I whispered.
Deirdre ran her fingers over my bra, and then -oooo- pinched my nipple. “So, apology accepted?”
“Yes ma'am!”
“Now, let's try to salvage your mascara, and then it's my turn to attempt to look half as beautiful as you.”
When Deirdre finished with my makeup, she scooched me out of her makeup chair. “Walk around to get used to those heels; I do not want you doing a face plant.”
A real possibility, as I was wearing black leather 'T' strap sandals with three-inch heels. Which I thought my feet looked ultra cool in, potential face plants notwithstanding.
“How 'bout I put my dress on now too,” I asked as I tottered around.
“Absolutely not,” Deirdre said, as she applied base. From the glint in her eye, I gathered she didn't feel the slightest guilt twinge making me parade around in undergarments.
“Let's talk about tonight; how will you find the scent of one man with so many around?”
“I'm not sure if I can put this in words; I've never had to describe it to anyone.” I was walking back and forth, becoming steadier.
“Don't lean forward so much,” Deirdre said. “Try to tell me; I need to figure out the best way to work the party.”
“Hey, this isn't so bad.” I tried to spin then, with disastrous results. “Oops! We aren't going to be dancing are we?”
“Yeah, we'll tango, fox trot, and as your finale, you'll flamenco to the Gypsy Kings,” Deirdre said. “Please! No dancing for you; you'd be an ostrich on ice. How close do you need to be, to pick up the scent?”
“Don't worry, I don't have to sniff anyone's butt; I guess I need to get within thirty feet of the person or so...”
“Sorry,” Deirdre said, grinning. “That didn't come out right; I really am using you like a blood hound, aren't I?”
I let out a long aawwooooo. “Your dawg is getting cold here; can I please put on some clothes?”
“Go on; you seem awfully excited about wearing a dress.”
“I am, actually; I haven't had many opportunities, I was Bo Peep for a costume party once, and wore a kimono for a day when I lost a bet, but that's it.”
I slithered into my new licorice lace strapless dress, and was gazing at my reflection over Deirdre' shoulder, when a feeling came over me. Wistful. Sad.
“What's wrong?”
“I don't know, I …like the way this looks, the way I …am.” I sighed. I was mixed up inside, and hadn't a clue why.
Deirdre stood and gave me a hug, and then she went to her closet to put on black silk Versace pants suit. When she returned? Yes, I was ogling the dark haired woman, and why not? Her pants cling to her in all the right places. Then a thought hit me.
“Hey! What gives?”
“What? You don't like?” Deirdre smiled.
She knew I did like; I was practically drooling. But why was she in long pants, while my dress barely made it to my thighs?
“I'm flashing skin and you get to wear that? Why?”
"Simple. Slight of hand diversion. First, I have to wear a jacket to conceal my holster for this baby." Deirdre held up a black pistol. "It's a tranquilizer air pistol, loaded with darts that would drop a rhino."
I stared at the dark gleaming piece of metal in her hand, and remembered Styles' snide remark about her playing security chief. Was she in over her head?
“Don't take this the wrong way, but what do you know about,” I waved my hand at her gun, “spy stuff?”
“No offense taken. Julia learned fast not to trust Styles, or anyone not involved with GAP, so for the past two years she's been sending me to 'academic lectures and seminars', which were really private security training courses. Hand-to-hand combat, surveillance, firearm proficiency, and a month long kick-your-ass immersion course. Amazing what is available if you have the money. In turn, I've trained other scientists -the younger fitter ones- so that we have our security force. But, yes, you should be worried; we're amateurs. We've only had to deal with something like this two or three times.”
“Wow! So you're like a female Jason Bourne with a PhD in biogenetics?” I tried to imagine that combination - terminate the rogue genome with extreme prejudice!- and couldn't. “Okay, so …why not use a real gun? I really wouldn't mind if someone shot this bastard.”
“Don't worry, we have other plans for Mr. Rapist; much better than a slug or two of lead. To your point about why you are wearing your fetching outfit -aside from the fact I love you in it- is, all eyes will be on you, and not me.”
“I disagree. You are dangerous hot in your sleek number; everyone will slobber over you like I am.”
“You may be right. Hmmm, how will we fix this? I know! Strip; you'll go in naked.”
“You're …kidding, right?”
“Yeah …I am.” Deirdre sighed as her eyes roamed up and down my body. “God how I wish I weren't.”
6:30P.M., GENTECH CAMPUS GROUNDS, FOUNDER'S DAY BALL
I'm freezing!
Even though spring officially arrived several weeks ago, the sea breeze made the evening brisk, and I made sure to spend as much time as I could under the glowing open air heaters. There were plenty to choose from; the thirty or so heaters marked the circle boundary of the Founder's Day Ball, which sprawled across the green field between Buildings F and G. In a way, the heaters gave the affair a romantic feel, the orange they glowed nearly matching the sunset.
“C'mon, Sydney, peel yourself away from the heaters,” Deirdre growled. “You are supposed to be working the crowd to pick up scents.”
I sighed. Deirdre was right of course, and to my smell sense, the fuel from the heater I 'clutched' was overpowering.
“How do women do it?” I grumbled, as I trailed her back into the party. The band, 'Innocence Mission' had begun a second set, and a lead guitar solo was echoing off 'Lake GenTech'.
“Do what?” Deirdre asked.
“Not have perpetual cases of hypothermia! This is insane!”
Deirdre couldn't keep the smug grin off her face. Between the cold and my heels drilling into the damp spring grass, she was deriving perverse pleasure from my female fashion lesson.
“Quit whining. You look marvelous.”
“Thank you.” I felt the blush rise in my face, despite the cold. Then I remembered my Billy Crystal from his SNL bits and wondered if that was what she meant.
A question occurred to me that I should have asked hours ago. “When we find this guy, what happens next? I mean, is he operating alone? Or are there others?”
She gently grabbed my arm. “I won't lie to you Syd; this is dangerous. It's not bloody likely he's working alone. Someone on the inside of 'A' IDed Lauren and Kara …and you …as targets. If we can catch the attacker maybe we can get him to reveal who it is. If we ask really nice.”
Talk of inside spies caused my cryptic chat with Amanda to come back to me, and I relayed the exchange to Deirdre.
“She warned you to get out? I wish you'd mentioned that tidbit earlier.”
I felt the heat rise again in my face; this time from my stupidity. Maybe I was a ditsy blond after all.
“I'm so sorry Deirdre, I meant to but-”
“-You had a controlling bitch-scientist steal you away for a whirlwind shopping spree. No sweat, sweetie, this one is on me.”
Deirdre tapped her earpiece -Earpiece? When did she put that on? Maybe she was good at this spy stuff- and said, “Sarah? I need you to dig into the background of Amanda Benedict from the MASG group …confirmed …treat her as a …person of interest.”
Deirdre scanned the crowd of GenTech partiers. “Are you picking anything up?”
In fact, I was picking up everything. I'd been scared all the individual scents would merge in the crowd, but they hadn't. I could identify each person within a thirty yard radius! If there weren't several thousand GenTech partiers around me, my range would have been much farther, bordering on a canine range. On cue, Elvis began crooning 'You ain't nothin' but a Hound Dog' in my mind.
“Nothing yet. I-”
A young woman dressed in tight black jeans and latex pink corset jumped in front of me. Her ears and eyebrows held numerous piercings, and a small but conspicuous silver ring hung from her nose. I had a feeling Astra always made an entrance.
“-Hey! Nose Girl! Deirdre was right; you are hot.”
“Hot? Hot??!! I'm freeeezing, Nose Ring Girl.”
Deirdre stepped between us. “I don't believe you two were introduced in our meeting yesterday...”
I guessed this was true; Astra jumped right to calling me Nose Girl without any formal introduction.
“…Sydney, this is Astra Steven. Astra, Sydney Edwards. Astra is perhaps the most brilliant geneticist at GenTech.”
“Perhaps? I am the most brilliant,” she said, “except maybe for Julia.”
Astra grinned and stuck out her hand, which I shook vigorously.
“This so-called 'party' is dull and filled with creepy old people,” Astra said, drawing close. “Any thoughts on how to loosen them up?”
“Well, if it were me…” an idea of purest evil bubble up in my mind. “…I'd get a hold of the mike, and announce a $10,000 raffle. To enter, you have to leave an autographed pair of your underwear …or panties or whatever …in front of the cutie boy singer.”
Astra raised an eyebrow to Deirdre. “Now that is true genius!”
Deirdre slapped the palm of her hand to her forehead. “So this is why Julia wanted to keep you two apart, you are both operating on a 3rd grade maturity level. Time to move, Nose Girl, you've got lots more smells to process.”
Astra's face turned serious. “I hope you nail the bastard. You can really track him from his scent?”
“Her sense of smell is so developed that each person has a unique scent,” Deirdre answered.
“Fascinating!” Astra said. “What does our rapist smell like?”
White anger jolted through me. “Like shit!”
“What she means,” Deirdre quickly explained, “is she assigns a short hand descriptor to avoid having to recite the full LM scale description.”
“Ah, good, because, 'shit' seemed a mite general,” Astra said.
“So you know, I can differentiate over twenty different 'shit' scents.” After the 'eewws' cross their faces, I added, “pretty shitty, huh?”
“What do I smell like,” Astra asked.
I closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and smiled. “Licorice. Black licorice.”
Astra laughed. “And Deirdre? What scent does she give you?”
I started to speak, but Deirdre put a finger over my lips. “That's …private. Let's go, Sydney; later, Astra.”
Astra's hand shot out to grab Deirdre. “This fucker's dangerous, and if he knows she can ID him, there's no telling what he might do. I like Nose Girl. A lot. So you take care of her, Ms. Spock.”
“I will,” Deirdre answered softly, “because I like her too…”
Astra's eyes danced from Deirdre to me, and her eyebrow arched.
"Oh, it's more than like, Ms. Spock, a whole lot more. You've got it bad.”
7:25 P.M., GENTECH CAMPUS GROUNDS, FOUNDER'S DAY BALL
The scent came strongly, even through the jumbled aroma of the party. I closed my eyes and turned in a circle, trying to get a direction.
“You've got something?” Deirdre asked, her voice excited.
“Yes,” I answered, and opened my eyes. “That way.”
When Deirdre followed my sightline toward the nacho buffet line, I said, “behind the buffet, where those people are mingling.”
Deirdre tapped her earpiece again. “Sarah, did you copy? Okay ...tell the EMT team 'green light'; we're heading over.”
“S-so ...what do we do?” I felt my knees shake a little.
Deirdre took my hand and squeezed. “Relax, love. I'll drop him, and a couple of EMTs -who happen to be nearby, funny, that- will whisk him away …to the GAP lab, for, uh, processing. Or is it ...rehabilitation? All you do is point him out. I won't let anything happen to you. Can you do this?”
I felt my shoulders relax. “Yeah.”
Deirdre pulled her pistol from its holster and held it inside her jacket. “Slowly walk to the nacho line and act like you're hungry.”
“Hungry? Are you kidding? I'm scared shitless ...and …and …aw crap! ...can you smell it? They used cheese whiz for the cheese!”
Deirdre laughed. “This superpower of yours; it's really a curse, isn't it?”
I gave a solemn nod. “You cannot imagine the true horror of cheese whiz.”
As we approached the line, I zeroed in on the target: a man dressed in khakis and yellow polo shirt, several yards beyond the buffet line, was sipping a beer; he seemed to be scanning the crowd. I hoped I'd have some recognition of his appearance, but I didn't; whatever he had done to me had truly fucked my visual memory.
I didn't need it; his scent screamed to me. I quickly turned my back to him.
“Him,” I whispered to Deirdre. “Yellow shirt. Goatee. That's the bastard.”
“I bet he remembers you, too. He will especially like your outfit tonight. Wait here for fifteen seconds and walk casually across his line of sight. He'll never see me coming.” Deirdre touched her earpiece. “We are live.”
I counted to fifteen while Deirdre angled off into the crowd. Then, I turned and slowly walked parallel to where he stood. I felt his eyes on me and the smell of musk was strong, which meant the fucker was getting aroused. Memory of my assault flooded back and I fought the urge to bolt. Then, the musk smell dissipated and I no longer felt his stare.
Deirdre's yell cut through the party noise. “OH MY GOD!!! This man is having a heart attack! Someone call a doctor!”
I dared to turn, and saw Deirdre kneeling beside a prone figure. A crowd quickly formed and a cart bearing EMTs magically appeared. Soon, they were lowering a gurney and wheeling it to where he lay.
The take down happened so quickly it seemed anticlimactic. But what a relief! A kind of euphoria filled me, and I wanted to find Julia and report the success.
The party crowd was well into the thousands now, and I had no idea where to turn. So I closed my eyes, breathed in, and slowly spun in a circle.
When I caught the scent of cinnamon, I opened my eyes, and found Julia and Alcina, standing near the seafood line. Something was wrong though; where everyone else was either looking or wandering over to where the EMTs were working, Julia and Alcina were headed in the opposite direction - they were backing away from the food line with Amanda and several men. My breath caught when I recognized Richard Styles was one of them. Amanda and the men seemed to be herding Julia and Alcina somewhere.
What the hell was going on? Where were they going?
I took a deep breath …and smelled fear from Alcina.
Julia? My reading of her was crystal clear - she wanted to kill someone.
I spotted Astra and bolted to her, waving her down.
“Hey, Syd, what's up? Does the crowd around Deirdre mean what I think? Did you ID the prick?”
“Yeah, we got him, but listen, something's wrong. Julia and Alcina just left with Amanda and the dickhead security guy. They didn't want to though; Julia was royally pissed; and Alcina was terrified.”
“Styles? Shit! And Amanda Benedict you say? I wonder if the rapist was a diversion to get to Julia. You're certain she didn't want to go with them.”
“Absolutely. She was pissed."
“Holy fuck, we've got to stop them! If something happens to Julia, Project Y is screwed! And if Y is screwed, we're-
“- toast.” Yeah, I get that. Go warn Deirdre, tell her to bring her troops, girls or whatever. 'I'll track them.”
“How?”
I pointed to my nose.
“Ah! Brilliant,” Astra said. “And how will we follow you?”
“I ...hadn't thought of that.”
Astra rolled her eyes, and unclasped one of the rings from an eyebrow. “Here. It has an embedded tracking device. Wearing this was the only way Deirdre would let me go into San Francisco without a bodyguard.”
“Um…” I looked down at my dress and the truth hit me; no pockets. “Where will I put it?”
“And you only have the ear piercings, huh? Rookie.” She unclasped one of my studs and replaced it with the smaller ring. Then she stared into my eyes.
“Can I talk you out of this? Let's both go get Deirdre. We don't know anything about these guys; they could be killers.”
I shook my head. Yes, I was scared, but if I waited around any longer, I'd explode. “It's Jules, Astra. She's in trouble! She needs me!”
Astra threw up her hands. “Fine. Go. But just get near them! Stay out of sight, do you hear me? Don't do anything until Deirdre and her team arrive, unless in your male life you were a kick-ass kung fu master or you can sniff people into unconsciousness with your nose.”
“Um, nope, guess I'll rely on my killer wit.”
“Then we are well and truly screwed,” Astra said with a grin.
I shook my heels off my feet and handed them to Astra; no way was I going to chase after baddies in those puppies.
She grabbed my arm with her free hand. “Be careful, okay? I mean it, Syd.”
“I will,” I nodded, and watched Astra take off in a sprint toward Deirdre, thinking the young scientist's pink Keds high tops were being put to good use at last. Then I turned, took a deep breath…
…and followed the smell of cinnamon.
End Part 3
***
Fragrance - Part 4 (Conclusion)
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Fragrance Part 4 (Conclusion)
by Armond
Julia and Alcina have been hijacked by Amanda, GenTech's Security Chief Dick Styles, and his thugs. Sydney is hot on their scent, but they are armed and ruthless and she ...isn't. And if she can't stop them before they destroy Julia's mind, bye bye Project Y. And if Project Y fails, how much longer can humanity survive?
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here
Fragrance - Part 4 (Conclusion)
by Armond
THURSDAY 8:02 P.M. , GENTECH TOWERS HEADQUARTERS, BASEMENT STORAGE ROOM B101.
“Who did you sell out to, Amanda? A competitor? How much did they pay you to sell your soul?”
Emotion dripped from in her voice; I had never heard Julia so bitter.
“A single competitor? Think broader, Dr. Carter,” Styles answered. “Whole industries will vanish if your gene alteration procedure becomes available on a large scale. Think mega consortium - between the health care, insurance, and elements of the religious right. Gotta hand it to you, Carter, your work is nothing if not unifying.”
I managed not to blurt out the obvious 'shit!' when I heard of the odd bedfellows aligned against us; they had no idea I was hiding here, and I damn sure needed to keep it that way.
'Here' was in a basement storage room of the GenTech Tower. I followed Julia's scent to find this bizarre scene. Aside from the dickhead security chief and Amanda, I scented musky smells from three other men. Jules and Alcina lay on the floor, with their hands tied behind them.
“Idiots!” Julia said. “Whether GenTech has my gene alteration technology, or someone else, the effect will be the same.”
I crawled forward behind a row of boxes to get closer. Barefoot and in this small lithe body, I discovered I was ninja stealthy, though my little black dress was trashed. I wasn't sure how my new found skill translated into 'save the day' help, since Styles and his three goons had Berettas in their hands and I had …well, nothing. I had no idea what kind of guns they had, but since 'Beretta' was only gun name I knew, that's what I called 'em.
I craned my neck behind me, hoping to see Deirdre and the cavalry arriving, armed with techno-geeky weapons. Thank God Styles hadn't whisked Julia away to a secret rendition location, in Yemen or somewhere, but ...what the hell were they doing?
“You still don't get it. The great Nobel prize winner is clueless about what's going down,” Styles said, smacking his lips. “Steal your work? No, Dr. Carter, we want to destroy it. You cannot imagine how wealthy we will become for shutting you down.”
“This is why betrayed your sisters,” Julia said, looking at Amanda. “For money?”
“Money is irrelevant,” Amanda spat. “My true sisters and brothers have tracked you for years. You are a cancer that must be killed. To be put down. What right have you to redesign the human race, handmaiden of Lucifer? You pervert His perfect creation with your 'procedure.' ”
“Oh dearie me, you aren't right in the head, are you child?” Alcina said. “You set up sweet Lauren and Kara …and poor Sydney- to be attacked. Shame on you.”
Shame on you? God, I loved Alcina! The moment I set foot in the MASG lab, she took me under her wing like I was her granddaughter. Even through her fear scent she had her wits; Betty White had nothing on this gal.
“I- I didn't want to, but in the end, if they had to be sacrificed to stop this unholy work, then I could live with it. With Sydney I had no choice. When she walked out, alone, it was too good to pass up. So I called Carl.”
She did set me up! And ...Carl? He was the bastard who attacked me? I gnawed on my fist to keep from screaming. I suppose it was her guilty little conscience that made her warn me to leave? And ...had she overheard us talking about my ability to categorize people by their scent so she tried to mask hers? I sat next to this snake for two days and was clueless. Some super hero I am. I'm a super idiot!
“What is ...that,” Julia's voice cut through my anger, and for the first time, I sensed fear from her. From where I crouched, I saw Styles held something shiny in his hands, but couldn't see what.
“Plan A was a kinder gentler approach,” Styles said. “All it involved was downloading a computer virus to wipe your databases, once we trailed the police into Building 'A'. No muss no fuss. And Carl was only having a bit of fun. None of his conquests suffered real harm…”
A bit of fun? Conquests? That is how dickhead described what happened to Lauren and Kara …and me- ? Anger roiled my stomach.
“…but since your little gender switched friend neutralized our pheromone spray, we abandoned that strategy…
Assaulting women is a strategy? Pigs!
“...and are forced to employ a more invasive solution. The Founder's Ball was the only time you would be in the open, and so we offered up poor ol' Carl at the party to distract Dr. Rogers and her team. Why you ask? So we could try this…”
When he held the thing up, I got a better look. It was chrome colored and horseshoe shaped with blue ends resembling headphone pads.
“…I wish I understood the science behind this nifty gizmo. It was 'borrowed' by our benefactors from one of those agencies the government denies exists. I will read you the product description, but damned if I know what it means.” *Ahem* “Calcium ion efflux from brain tissue is extremely sensitive to irradiation with radiofrequency waves. If high intensity waves are calibrated to penetrate to the hippocampus in the brain...”
“…You would instantly and severely damage it,” Julia finished the sentence. “Which would …prevent the formation of new memories and … inhibit accessing long term memory. Causing ...permanent amnesia.”
“Excellent. I am so glad you understand; I lacked the capacity to explain it. Sadly, you will too, in just a moment.”
A chill rippled down my spine as I grasped the concept; they were going to scramble Julia's brain! The thought of doing this evil to her brilliant mind made me want to puke. Why would they do this?
Almost in answer, Styles continued. “Our employers believe, if we cannot destroy the external GAP project data, the only other way to halt it is to corrupt your amazing gray matter. At the end of the day, you are GAP, Dr. Carter. Killing you would produce the desired result, but it is an inelegant solution, and one that invites too much scrutiny. Now, suppose you have a ...lab accident ...in which you and your colleague are alive, but -ah, how best to put this- permenantly stupid? How tragic! OSHA arrives to investigate, GenTech's stock plummets, and GAP dies an instant death.”
“Please …you can't … you don't understand…” Julia's voice was begging now. “…more is at stake here than GAP! My team has uncovered a virus that threatens the future of humanity. We can fix it, but not if you destroy my mind. Amanda, you will be able to understand this-”
“A humanity killing virus? And only you can save us? You are delusional,” Amanda said. “You are the disease and we have the cure with us. Mr. Styles, will you please reformat her brain?”
“As you wish. I press this button like so, and thirty seconds later it is good to go. Five seconds on your head and bye bye GAP.”
Julia screamed and fought to pull away, but two of the goons held her down. When Alcina kicked at them, the third thug backhanded her.
25 seconds.
I smelled roses and turned.
Deirdre and her team were creeping into the storage room.
Thank God!
I started to wave. Then it hit me …aw fuck!
20 seconds left.
Julia's brain would be mush before they got here!
Stall! Stand up! Sing! Do jumping jacks!
No! These assholes must never put that thing on her.
15 seconds.
A nearby box was crammed with blue trophies etched with 'Safety First At GenTech.'
Think, Sydney, think!
10 seconds
In slow motion, Styles lifted the scrambler' to Julia's head.
Wait! I had a plan. It would delay long enough for Deirdre's team to engage...
5 seconds.
…and stop Styles cold.
Downside?
I was going to die.
I blew out a breath…
grabbed a trophy…
And ran.
It wasn't like I was brave. No no no …I was scared out of my brains.
I heard somewhere once, if you go into a knife fight thinking you wouldn't get cut, you usually ended up dead. The idea was when you are cut, you freeze from the unexpected shock, and that proves fatal. But if you expected it, you wouldn't freeze.
So, could the same work for me? Since I was sure to die, when it happened, I wouldn't be thrown off, right? No …that made no sense …because then I'm dead!
Time started acting funny; everything s-l-o-w-e-d:
Julia … thrashed and struggled to get away.
The thugs …gripped her arms.
Styles …lowered the halo to her head.
And I …
running at full speed…
grabbed it.
I ran four strides, hit the concrete floor, and dropped the pulsing thing. I raised the trophy over my head.
Shouts of “stop her!” and “shoot her!” echoed in my ears.
Hornet stings smacked my chest as my arms started their downward arc, but momentum carried me on. I hammered with everything I had.
Yeah, I know I'm a 'smell gal', but that crunch was the best sound I ever heard.
I scented ozone, fried circuitry, gunpowder ...and blood. That's when the pain exploded and I crumpled to the floor. When I did, rotten fish smell slammed me. Styles!
“You cunt!”
He yanked me up by my hair, and pain burned my chest.
“You're stunt has done nothing except ensure we kill them. But first, I will terminate Dr. Carter's experiment with you ...now.”
Something hard pressed against the base of my skull and I heard metal clicking.
“Good bye Ms. Edwards.”
I hated that his foul reek filled my last living moments, but we don't control these things, I guess.
Something weird happened next. Styles ...fell over, and face smacked the concrete. His eyes rolled back into his head and I saw a dart hanging from his neck.
“Sydney!” Deirdre's voice cut through my pain.
I raised as much as I could, and saw Amanda and Styles' men sprawled on the ground. Deirdre was running to me and Julia was struggling to crawl over too. The room decided to spin, so I closed my eyes.
Words danced in my ears, jumbling together.
“Why didn't you wait? We were right behind you!”
"She was doing it to save me.”
“He shot her three times.”
“Get the EMTs here STAT.”
Someone was crying.
After a moment, I realized it was me.
A new scent filled my mind.
I had been around terminally ill people before, and knew their odor of decay and rot was the scent of dying. But now, I caught a different aroma, one I can only describe as fierce and swift.
Ha! If I was back in the MASG lab, Alcina would be 'tsk'ing me, saying 'fierce and swift are not odor categories, dearie.' But those were the best words I had to describe Death's breath.
Blackness blanketed me; I was soooo tired and wanted to let go.
“Sydney! Stay with us! Look at me.”
I pried my eyes open and looked up at the terrified faces of Julia and Deirdre. Then I glanced over at my blinking watch: 16:43. How cruel; minutes ago, sixteen hours seemed too short, but now? I'd give anything for half the time.
“Don't think I gonna need my pumpkin count down watch anymore.” I tried to laugh but coughed blood instead.
“That's it? You're giving up?”
I wasn't sure who said it, but what the hell?
“What are you talking about?” I spluttered. “I did good here, right?”
“So you're a one hit wonder?”
“Hey! I'm ...dying and you're insulting me?”
It was hard to think through the pain, but this was just wrong.
“Yeah, because you are not dying, dammit, do you hear me? You. Will. Not Die!”
That was Julia speaking. Definitely her.
“If you weren't bitching about a few pinpricks, I'd throw you over my knee and spank you again.”
And Deirdre.
“What ...do you ...want from me?”
“To live Syd. We need you! We love you. Stay with us.”
“I'll ...try...”
TUESDAY 11:25 A.M., GENTECH BUILDING 'A', INFIRMARY ROOM 1
bleach ...rubbing alcohol ...linen ...poppies ...metallic iron ...floral...
...and cinnamon.
My fuzzy brain tried to puzzle it together - disinfectant, sterilization, sheets, morphine, blood, flower bouquets and ...Julia?
So, I wasn't in heaven or hell, unless either place smelled like a hospital room.
I opened my eyes, to see Julia's head laying on my bed, a slight snore sawing from her mouth. To my right was an IV drip; whatever the bag held was the good shit, because I felt zippy.
“Hey, Jules.” I croaked more than spoke.
Her eyes popped open. “Syd?”
She reached for a hug, thought better of it, and opted to stroke my face.
“I thought I lost you. You almost died and-”
“-what …happened?”
“They ...tried to to microwave my brain and you took bullets to stop them. You saved me, Syd.”
Bullets? Good to know; I thought a flamenco dance troupe had done a number on my chest.
What day was it?
I tried to raise my wrist to look at my watch, but I was too weak.
“Mmm …time?”
“Your watch is gone. The conversion deadline came and went days ago. You were too injured to attempt the reversal.”
The drug wore off a bit at that news, and I tried to remember consequences.
So I'm ...stuck in this body? Unless you give me the DNA of some random guy?”
She shook her head. “I wasn't truthful with you. I know you, Syd. I created the doomsday scenario about you not being able to revert to your original male form so you would pay attention to the deadline. Though we cannot now use the reversal formula, there is no reason we can't overwrite with your original DNA. The real issue is nanite poisoning; you see, the second batch interacts with the first in a mutative way we don't understand …yet. But the beauty...”
The morphine made my brain think she was talking to me through a tin can, but I got the sense of her words. She tricked me to take this seriously? I truly needed to upgrade my credibility.
“...of the reversal serum was it used the nanites of the first serum to 'reverse' their actions. No waiting needed. The replicated X chromosome is deactivated, and the deactivated Y is reactivated. Now we must wait until your body flushes the first nanite batch away before we introduce a new batch.”
Flushes away? That didn't sound like it would take too long. Ya know, like a toilet flush, whoosh, bye bye little nanites. “Which means…?”
“It varies from person to person, but 2 to 3 years.”
“Oh.” Crap! That was a long whoosh.
“Unless…”
“Mmmm?”
“Plan B-”
“-From Outer Space?” I giggled. This IV bag stuff was amazing.
“It's Plan 9, dear.” Julia looked at the bag. “How much of this are you understanding?”
I yawned; I was sooo tired. “Enough, Jules. What's Plan 9 …er B?”
Julia's eyes narrowed. “You knew you'd be shot trying to stop them from frying my brain and you did it anyway. Why?”
“Dunno…I-”
“-did it because of Project Y, yes? To sacrifice yourself for the good of the many?”
I snorted. “Wish I was so noble. No, deep down I am supremely selfish. I don't want to live on an earth that doesn't have you in it.”
“Even though I'm an evil mad scientist?”
“Evil no, but mad scientist?” I tilted my head to the side. “My grand pappy used to say 'always dance with the mad scientist what brung ye.'”
“He never said any such thing and you know it.”
I shrugged, which sent a pain stab across my chest; gotta remember not to do that.
“He might have. He said things like 'you can't catch no possum if you ain't got no bait,' or 'this country's turning into a goat rodeo.' Once he saw me practicing a new dance, and said I looked like a monkey fucking a football. So he sure could have said it.”
“Monkey fucking a…” Julia burst into laughter. “Stop it, dammit, just stop! I'm trying to be serious and you are …well you're you. Here, let me show you the kind of mad scientist I am.”
She pulled a fancy looking phone from her lab coat pocket and held it up.
“He's cute.”
I can say things like cute and darling, right? Stranded as I am in this female form.
“Yes, she is. 'Carli' is one of our newest additions to the herd.”
So, why was she showing me this now? Unless …Carli …the name sounded familiar. Bits and pieces of conversations my stay at GenTech bubbled up. About body mass and what we would wish on our worst enemies…
“I'll give you another hint. Kara and Lauren helped with the procedure. It was a catharsis for them. I would have let you help too, if you weren't injured.”
“That's …Carl? The rapist?”
Julia nodded, and watched my reaction. “She, Mandy and Richarda joined the herd Sunday. Whatever else you think, Syd, I do believe in the sanctity of life. I will not kill my enemies, even though they would murder me and mine without a moment's hesitation. Their forms aren't permanent; when it's safe, when we complete Project Y, we'll convert them back.”
“How are they ...coping?”
“All indications are good. Our past experiments have shown their 'human intellect' is mostly dormant; they will dimly remember the experience. Also,” Julia's lips carved a crooked smile, “they are popular with the herd at the moment.”
“Popular? How so?”
“Oddly enough, all three are in heat and are …very busy.” Julia said. She leaned close. “How do you feel about me now?”
Oh, wow! I tried to digest this …development. Part of me recoiled at the idea of being turned into a dumb animal; it reminded me of those Greek myths where people transformed into all sorts of horror creatures.
Then, another part of my mind chimed: justice was served.
I took a deep breath …and smelled cinnamon.
Julia still registered clean by my instincts. Hell, maybe I'm evil. Because I knew I could live with what she had done, and would do again.
“It's not the best news I've heard, but …I'm on your team no matter what. You said it the other day; we are family, Jules. Heh! Family jewels, get it?”
She flashed a mischievous grin back. “I believe your 'family jewels' are still missing, Syd, which brings me to Plan B. Let's keep it that way; don't get changed back, ever. I need you here with me on a full time basis.”
I wasn't sure what she was offering…a job, maybe? “I'd be your personal assistant?”
“Worse, “she said, putting her hand on my face; stroking it. “I want to adopt you, officially. I want to be your mother. I've been thinking about it …well, I won't tell you for how long, or you will accuse me of orchestrating this whole thing.”
Jules wanted to be my mother?
Not just in a kidding around way, but in the legal, 'change last name to Carter' sense? I was two when my birth mother died, and though Dad was great, I always had a huge hole in me. My mouth must have flopped open, because she laughed.
“Why, Syd, you're speechless; I wish I had filmed it. It's a big decision; take time to think it over.”
Did I want her as a mother?
Hell yes.
Did I want to be a woman for the rest of my life? Well ...I wasn't sure. But I didn't need to cross -or burn- that bridge now.
See, in their quest to save humanity, these poor loveable brainiacs were clueless they had opened Pandora's Box. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday soon, my friends here would solve their nanite problem, lower the cost for the procedure, and gender changes would be available to all; an every day event. If we survived the degenerative Y crisis, it was going to be a vastly different society that soldiered into the future.
Maybe we'll choose to be male or female at different times in our lives; someone might be female in her twenties and male in his thirties.
Hell, for all I knew, someone could choose to be male during the week and female on the weekend.
I tried to imagine wedding ceremonies: Do you take this man and/or woman to be your lawfully wedded husband and/or wife?
The bedrock of sexuality was going to change.
And the implications of the ability to switch species? Don't even get me started on that one!
So, no, I didn't see the pressing need to commit to being a male or female human for the rest of my life. Since I'd been a man for 27 years and a woman for little over a week, I ought to give the XX life style a try for a while. It wasn't like I had a choice, for the next few years, anyway, so why not take advantage of the benefits?
I saw lots of benefits:
First, I would keep the amazing sense ability unique to this body. I would continue to be Nose Girl - able to smell tall buildings in a single sniff.
Then there was Deirdre.
And Julia.
“Yes.”
“Yes?!”
Score! It was her turn to look gobsmacked over my nanosecond decision.
“Oops. Sorry, I forgot to say the magic word. Yes, please.”
The humor drained from Julia's face. “I was serious, Sydney.”
“Me, too, Mommy.”
She threw her arms around me, and yeah, it hurt, but the meds still hummed away, so it wasn't too bad. Not when you consider the tradeoff - the Nobel prize winning savior of the world was balling all over me. Okay, fine. I was weepy too.
“It won't be easy; we've got a lot on our plate.” Julia rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe 'a lot on our plate' isn't the best metaphor to describe saving humanity, but you get my drift. I'll give you a week to laze in the bed -we've developed an experimental treatment that will speed your recovery time and leave no scars- and then it's back to work for you. We have enemies out there, Amanda and Styles' mysterious employer, so the danger is not even close to over. I'm going to lean on you for support and-.”
A head full of pink hair thrust into the doorway.
“Good, you're alive. Deirdre made me swear to call her the instant you woke, so I'm gonna dial it in.”
“Love you too, Astra.”
“Aw, poor baby, I'm mad for you . Now get well soon, so we can play. Oh, someone else wants to say hello too.”
A dark suited and grinning man walked into the room. The man who shot me three times and almost put a fourth bullet in my brain.
“Julia? What's he doing here?” I growled, backing up against my headboard.
“Oh dearie, I wanted to thank you for saving my life, but instead I've given you a fright,” he said.
Something was off here. I was sure Julia said dickhead Styles was munching grass, but here he stood. Except …he no longer reeked of rotten fish.
“Mother? What. is going. on?”
“Don't tell her, Julia,” Astra said. “Let's see how good Nose Girl's superpower is.”
This was getting weird, but okay. I took a deep breath and smelled …brandied cherries. And he'd said dearie.
Oh. My. God!
“Al-cina?”
“Clever girl,” Julia said. “But call him Richard, in public, please. Alcina graciously volunteered. We solved two problems by overwriting her DNA with Styles'. First, we don't have to explain the disappearance of GenTech's Security Chief. And second, it gives us a chance to find out more about the shadow group that tried to shut us down.”
“I thought I would be used to the change but I still feel like a spring chicken,” the 'new' Styles said, flexing his arm.
“And what happened to those thugs with Styles and Mandy? Are they …did you…”
Julia cleared her throat. “They joined GenTech's growing ostrich pride…
Ostriches?
“…The remaining members of Alcina's bridge club offered to take their places,” Julia said.
“You rest up, missy” Styles said. “Once you are well, I want to thank you properly for saving me. I'm a widow ...er widower …er …whatever I am, my memories are precious to me. I am indebted to you.”
When I managed to mumble 'yeah sure', new Styles turned to Astra and smiled. “Are we still on for tonight, dearie?”
“Yup. 7:00 o'clock. What are we going to do,” Astra said, fiddling with one of her piercings.
“I thought we would dine together and then you would accompany me to a movie.”
Wait. Wait a goddamn minute! Astra and Alcina/Styles were old-fashioned dating? I reached over and thumped my IV bag.
“Why did you do that?” Julia asked.
“I needed a morphine hit; this is way too much weirdness to take in sober.”
Our laughter was interrupted by the scent of roses.
Deirdre burst into the room, breathing hard. Had she been running?
“Why don't we step outside,” Julia said to Astra and Styles. After the couple left, Julia leaned near me and whispered,
“Deirdre's been by your side as much as I have. She doesn't know you've already agreed to be my daughter. She's been working on a speech for days to convince you to stay 'Sydney.' I'd play it for all it's worth, daughter,” Julia said. She kissed my head and then left, closing the door behind her.
Deirdre moved next to my bed and her bright eyes were nervous. Hmmm.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay...”
I looked down and tried to flutter my eyelashes; having never done this before, I didn't know if the effect worked.
“You've been shot ...nearly killed, and I know Julia told you how things are with your conversion. So, no, you are not okay, and don't pretend you are. Are you in pain?”
I shrugged, which of course did send pain burning across my chest, so hot it -literally- brought tears to my eyes. Dammit! When am I going to remember not to do that?
“So a big 'yes' to that one,” she said, stroking my cheek with her hand. “Brave thing you did, Syd.”
“Yeah ...brave.”
I tried to sound lost, which wasn't a stretch. You don't have something like this happen to you a bounce up all bright and happy.
“Hey ...it's going to be alright.” She ran a hand through my hair. “No ...it's going to be better.”
“Deirdre ...” I went for the doe-eyed look this time. “What am I going to do now?”
She pulled my head to her breasts and kissed the top of my head. Which would have been great, except for the -OUCH- pain it triggered.
“Give me a chance, love, ...give us a chance, and I'll show you a life worth living. I know you don't want to hear me say I'm glad you can't go back to your old body, but I am. I think I'm in love with you ...you are so bright and lovely. Funny too; I will even admit I like your twisted sense of humor, and....”
Let it never be said I am too sadistic and cruel. Oh, I let her drone on a little longer about my greatness, but then -pain be damned- I grabbed her face, pulled it to mine, and shut her up with a kiss.
When we broke for air, she said, “so that's a yes?”
Someday soon I would tell her my 'yes' moment came when she stuck her head in my room. Which will probably earn me some spanks. Hmm, sounds fun.
I could have answered 'yes' back, but Deirdre was a project I needed to get to work on immediately. My mensa girlfriend -or maybe my partner? We'd have to see where this went- spent way too much time analyzing in her head. Sure as Nose Girl, I would open her mind and body to the sensual and sensuous world of fragrance. But I mustn’t forget the other senses, at this moment ...touch and taste.
I pulled her to me for another kiss.
Epilogue
TUESDAY 12:00 P.M., GENTECH TOWER, CONFERENCE ROOM T802
'Spiffy' best describes how I looked in my Chef's hat and shirt.
I almost certainly violated state food handler's regulations by failing to wear a hairnet, but in less than three months after my conversion,'vanity' had become my middle name. No way would I imprison my beautiful hair.
“Lunch is served,” I announced, as I wheeled the cart into the conference room.
Big pow wow going on here, the room was filled with mighty chiefs.
From GenTech's side was Burt Thompson, the EVP of Product Development, Julia, Deirdre and Astra from Building A, and the GenTech CEO himself, Rob Pattison -no relation to the vamp playing actor-.
EarthShell LLC, was represented by their CEO, Jack somebody, and Tom Haskins, who headed up their marketing group.
Why the meeting? The joint venture papers had been signed a week ago, and this was a 'feel good' follow up.
GenTech and EarthShell had found the holy grail of the food container industry, by developing a compostable substitute for styrene and polystyrene food containers. In the rush to go green, MacDonalds and Walmart were lining up to order.
The secret, as the say, is in the sauce. Or rather, it's in the nanites.
I cleared my throat, “Gentlemen and Ladies, I have four kinds of paninis; the Napa Valley, the North Beach, the Rotisserie California Club, and the Santa Cruz. You'll find an assortment of gourmet chips, several colors of ice cold Jones Soda and a pile of obscenely large chocolate chunk cookies, still gooey and warm. Please help yourselves.”
I wouldn't call what happened next a stampede, but plates filled fast. Everyone dug in except Julia, who sat looking at me. I wandered over to her, took a deep sniff, and popped one of her chips in my mouth.
I noticed Mr. Haskins giving me a strange look; Julia noticed too, and smiled at him.
“I should explain Sydney's cheeky behavior. She's my daughter, you see.”
The 'ah-ha' light went on in Haskins' head and he grinned. “My daughter is a few years older, Dr. Carter, so I think I know what you are going through.”
Actually, he had no idea what Julia was going through. Her paranoia had worsened over the last months, but this wasn't an earth-shattering development. I mean, knowing a shadowy cabal actually is out there trying to devise gizmos to scramble your brains would turn the sanest person paranoid. I was helping her hold it together, though.
One way I gave her peace of mind, was to sniff her food for poison. I haven't found any yet, but when I detected e coli taint in two separate dishes from the 'GenTech Eats Healthy' cafe, I spent some 'quality time' with our chef. One thing led to another, and now I'm co-running it.
At least I got rid of the stupid name. Once I re-jigged the menu to serve more corporate functions like today's love-in, I knew 'GenTech Eats Healthy' had to go. I toyed with calling it Pastabilities, and Wok-N-Roll before settling on 'The Deli Lama.' Nearby companies have started ordering from us as well; we're on our way to becoming a profit center.
“You must be so proud of your mother. Are you following in her footsteps?” CEO Jack said.
He was a genial white haired fellow, whose eyes enjoyed roaming my face. I didn't mind; over the past months I've accepted it; I'm cute. From 'Jack', I received the scent of fresh cut sawdust, which I equated with honesty; don't ask me why.
I gave him an emphatic head bob and smiled at Jules.
“I'm trying, but Mother's got huge shoes to fill. Er …but by that I don't mean she has big feet.”
When the room erupted with laughter, I turned beet red. This wasn't a laugh I had been going for.
“I get your meaning, young lady. You are, what 18? 19? You obviously work here; do you plan to go to college someday?”
“I've started an undergrad course online. I'm getting a BS in Biology.” I glanced over at Julia. “We'll see what happens after that.”
“Excellent!” Jack said. “I'm an 'old schooler', and wonder if the lack of 'live' time with a teacher makes online courses harder.”
“Not in her case,” Julia answered. “She has a dozen 'tutors' here who prep her with tests of their own. The online exams are a cakewalk for Syd after that.”
Laughter filled the room again, but I didn't mind; it was true! Deirdre was the worst; she spanked me for each wrong answer. Which usually led to other things. Mmmmm.
When lunch ended, I gathered the plates and trash so the meeting could continue. If Jack and Tom thought the discussions were over my head, they'd be wrong. This whole idea of partnering with EarthShell? My brainchild.
Project Y was in full swing: Marge and the combined GAP/MASG teams devoured the data I generated in my MASG tests. When they combined the findings with their gene mapping work, they identified a stable gene to transfer the Y sex traits to. Julia figured if this project wasn't secret, Marge's work would have earned her a Noble for sure. Then Julia and Astra proved their brilliance by designing a virus to work the transfer.
But we still needed to find a vehicle to mass release our counter virus into the population. I got to thinking, could nanites be programed to deliver our virus? Could dormant nanites be blended with other compounds, oh, say, the components that go into a Big Mac container box, and further, could the nanites be activated by a substance like ...hot grease? Then, once activated, the nanites would migrate into the Bic Mac, which would in turn go into...
Well ...you see where this is headed; Deirdre built the nanites to do just that. We convinced EarthShell that only we -hint, 50% joint venture profit share = happy happy GenTech CEO- could provide the additives and catalysts needed to make the boxes biodegrade.
Once EarthShell pitched the product to the market, MacDonalds practically kicked down EarthShell's factory doors to place orders. To be shipped to every single MacDonalds on the globe.
This is my biggest Score! ever. Oh, the irony; if all goes well, we will be saving humanity through fast food!
We have other delivery methods too; Julia's genetically engineered rice will contain the counter virus, so we get third world coverage.
Project Y is greenlight to go and our counter virus hits earth in the coming months. We have high hopes, best guess is the fertility rate will continue to dip from degenerative Y for a while, but will rebound once our virus takes hold. And -bonus!- there is only a 7.28% chance our virus will mutate into something that could bring an zombie apocalypse. Inspires confidence, no?
As I wheeled the lunch cart out the conference room, I glanced over at Deirdre, mouthed later, and blew a kiss. When she mouthed oh yeah back, I saw Astra snicker. She's giving me and Deirdre shit? Right. Her affair with Alcina/Styles is so mind-numbing, Freud himself is clawing his way out of his grave to analyze them.
Thing is, our relationships are the tip of the iceberg. Just last week, one of our scientists petitioned Julia for her marine biologist sister. Seems her sister wanted to 'get closer to her work', and asked if the GAP team could convert her into a hybrid dolphin/human. To become a mermaid for God's sake! I have no idea whether Mother will agree, but one thing's certain - we are open for business, and nothing will be the same again.
How will we cope?
Kipling once said, 'smell is surer than sight or sound' and I know it's true. We can't rely on our eyes, because now, anyone could be anyone. And we can't trust our hearing, because the fabulous lies of men travel straight from their lips to our ears.
My advice?
Go outside. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.
You might smell something horrible; perhaps the neighbor's dog left you a darling gift in your lawn.
Or you'll breath something fabulous, like the intoxicating fragrance of rose petals that surrounds me when I'm with my love.
Or you may get nothing; smell is our most underdeveloped sense, after all.
But use it. Work it. Rely on it, because, if I’ve learned one thing, it is smell never lies.
Until next time, this is Nose Girl signing off, and reminding you to always stand down wind.
Dammit! No matter how much I dress it up, my superhero 'Nose Girl' name is, and will always be, stupid!
Sigh.
Kemeia Ascending - Part 1
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Intrigue and deception swirl in the Kingdom of Wildevale. Queen Ravela rules, and the tales of her madness and cruelty multiply by the day. Her sister, the victim of a magically enhanced poison, lies in a coma, wasting away a little more each day; kept alive only by Ravela's magic. Ambassadors from the nearby kingdoms of Arcum and Parasia have arrived, bearing in hand treaties of peace. Or so they say.
Meanwhile, hidden in the teaming city of Marossa, a bitter young woman takes halting steps along the Healer's Path. A woman who is far more than she seems, and could become far greater than any can imagine.
Kemeia Ascending
by armond
*author's note. I wrote the story rotating the narrative between Kemi and Ravela as a way to get past some writer's block I was having. I've started and am in the middle of writing several stories, but each seemed to stall. One way I get past this is to write in first person. Maybe this should have been written in third person. Maybe someday I'll rewrite it in that narrative. Until then, I apologize for any confusion as the narration shifts between the two characters.
Prologue
“Be vigilant, O my people! For I shall send my healer among you once more as a token of my love. Queens and Kings shall bow before her. And she shall work miracles…”
-Song of Selene, Vallan Codex, Volume 2, chapter 21
“Behold! An avatar of great power rises in Marossa, when winter’s chill surrenders to the flowers of spring.”
-message of the Seers of Tyke’s Temple to Queen Kaelee
Kēmeía, Greek: the process or act of change, especially from one thing to another, as the change from base metal to gold.
Kemi
30th day of Winterwane, 1022 DDE.
City of Marossa
Muln River, South of the Palace
Dawn
Air!
It filled my lungs, in between watery coughs.
"What have we here?"
Pain! Everything burned and throbbed, but freezing too. So cold!
"Why lass! Ye've got the shivers. Let me wrap my shawl about ye."
I'm ...alive?
'Yes, you are.'
I blinked rapidly, trying to focus. For I heard two women speaking; one in front of me, and one in my head.
"What happened to ye?
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
"What's wrong with your voice?"
The woman grabbed my face and forced my mouth open. I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron, and I was so weak.
"Oh, you're mute. Let's see what else you got going on."
Next she poked and prodded me, finally pressing her hand to my forehead.
"Yer body is checkered in bruises and cuts. Ye may be sporting a broken rib or two. I swear! You look like you've been ground up in a grain mill. Ye've got a whale of a fever going. Need to get you out of the night air soon. But also..."
This time she pressed her ear to my chest. I didn't mind; I was shivering so bad, and her body heat felt wonderful. She pulled away from me abruptly, her eyes saucer wide.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're sorgente. I feel the power in you."
I still hadn't seen a clear image of her, as it was a moonless night, and one of my eyes was swollen shut. I could just see her outline. Her accent told me she was from Glamorgan. Her words told me she was insane. I mean, me? A sorgente? If I had that power, I wouldn't be here in this broken twisted body.
"Hahaha! Ye may be mute, but you look as snarly as a river rat."
I am truly cursed by Selene. I manage to somehow escape from hell, only to fall into the arms of a crazy woman? Why did she pull me from the water? Why didn't she let me die?
"I wonder what I shall call ye?" The woman scooped me into her arms and carried me away. "Ah well, I'll fathom your name soon enough. I'm Marta, by the way."
'And I name you Kemeia. And all the kings and queens of Argentia shall kneel at your feet.'
As blackness claims me, I wonder if being in the arms of a crazy woman is exactly where I need to be. For clearly, I'm as insane as she.
Part 1
Kemi
One year later
24th day of Winterwane, 1023 DDE
City of Marossa
South Quadrant
Early Morning
I whipped my index finger to her lips, a shushing gesture the ecstatic woman understood, thank the gods, because her sobbing calmed to soft wet hiccups.
Whew. Her boy was through the worst, but still needed sleep to recover, so I didn't want her to wake him.
Tears gushed, well, cascaded, down her cheeks and she clenched my arm in a grip so tight, I wondered if I’d need a healer myself to make the bruises she was giving me disappear.
That’s when it came over me again. The odd feeling. One so rare in my new life, it took a moment to figure out what it was. Healing him made me feel... I was going to say 'happy', but I know that can't be right. I don't think I'm ever going to be happy again. I don't think I'm capable of it. But still, I was beginning to find that relieving the suffering of others seems to relieve a little of my own.
Anyway, the little squirt chased a ball into the street and had been trampled by a fast moving grain wagon. Holy Selene, I'd never healed one so injured! Broken bones, lungs crushed, organs ruptured, the poor little fellow was in so much pain! It took a massive amount of power to mend him. Marta worried I over extended, but even now, my bright energy, my sorgente, filled me again, stronger than before.
I tucked a blanket about him, and on impulse, kissed his forehead. What the hells? Marta cast me another look. About the energy I’d used, I hoped and not the kissing thing. I shrugged, and took the young mother's hand, leading her out of the bedroom, with Marta following fast on our heels.
"He'll be need’n lots of water and plenty of rest," the midwife told the mother, "even when the little monster tells ye he feels fine."
Marta’s bedside manner needed some serious work. I couldn't sign the snarky thought to her, because once out of the bedroom, the mother wrapped me in a bear hug, pinning my arms to my sides.
“Let me pay you, please, holy one! I beg forgiveness I can't give more!”
The lad’s mother pulled back from me, knelt to the floor beside the bed, and looking side to side to see who watched, pulled a small satchel from under it. Really? Under the bed? I shook it when she handed it to me. Coins clinked, probably all the money she and her husband had. It wasn’t heavy.
I passed it to Marta, who, after taking two silvers, gave the bag back to the woman. For a second time tears gushed from her eyes, when she understood we wouldn’t take all of it.
It dawned on me; she’d given us everything for her little boy! Everything! A year ago, would I have mocked such a homely gesture from a peasant woman? Now, tears leaked from the sides of my eyes; I turned my head so Marta wouldn’t see.
"Mistress Kemi and I thank ye for your generosity," Marta said, as she hustled me out the door of the little shanty where they lived. But not before the mother yelled out ther window: He lives! By Selene it is a miracle! The healer did it!" So much for letting the lad sleep.
“Holy one!” “Blessed, healer!” “All praise to Selene!”
We shoved past the gaggle of cheering gawkers that peered through the doorway. Where had all these people come from? And why were they saying those things to me?
"Cover yourself, lass," Marta hissed, dragging me through the crowd. "Yer develop'n quite a reputation. Remember the Queen's Guard."
The Guard! My stomach knotted and I yanked my cloak hood over my head, stuffing in my rebellious dark hair. I snapped my head side to side to see if any soldiers were about.
"Calm down, Kemi, we're safe I think…” Marta said, stopping to give me a quick hug to sooth my sudden panic. “I’m so proud of ye, lass. Ye didn’t hesitate at all! You’ve come a long way.”
I smiled at that; I’d hesitated, but only a fraction of second this time.
I suppose I have come a distance. That’s not saying much, considering where I started. Marta fished me out of the Muln river one year ago, starving, bloody, reeking of urine and excrement, and shattered in a way words can't describe. It would have been an exaggeration to call me human; I was a wounded feral animal. All I wanted was to die. Or maybe I did die. I'm still not sure.
But the stubborn midwife sensed the sorgente flickering in me, a tiny flame then. She raised me from the muck; setting bones, closing wounds and scrubbing my skin with that Glamorgan stringent soap she concocted out of secret oils, herbs and lye; a recipe that also, I suspected, contained gravel. Her soap was so strong, I think it scrubbed my soul a little too. Selene knows it needed it.
She took me under her wing. Found me a bed to call my own in the apprentices’ dorm at Selene's Hall. Browbeat the healing masters into letting me be her trainee, so I'd qualify for free meals and the oh so comfy scratchy-but-free woolen robes of a novate. And then she dragged me along as she made her midwife rounds in Marossa. Training me whether I wished it or no.
Healing is by necessity in an intimate thing; you must meld with the injured or sick to heal them, so you must approach the patient with an open heart to be able to expose yourself to their suffering. When she pulled me from the dark river, I was the opposite of open, a bitter little creature, who loathed to touch others, much less heal them. Oh Selene, the battles Marta and I had and still have, as she drags me onto Healer’s Path. Kicking and screaming.
“What you did for the lad was a wonder, Kemi. I wish, ye could receive the praise that's your due. In all my years I've never seen the like. You are surely favored by Selene above all healers,” she said, patting my head as if I was a good dog. Then her face darkened. “I fear if you keep performing miracles like that they'll drag you to the palace for sure.”
I shivered, thinking of who they were, since the palace was the place where I’d been shattered, a year ago. Destroyed so completely, nothing of me remained. I was caught off guard when the midwife yanked my hood off. What the hells?
I looked about wild-eyed, searching for signs of the Guard. We'd wandered onto a deserted ally of the Marossa garment district. Still, no sense in taking chances. But when I tried to pull my hood up again, Marta slapped my hands.
“Stop that. The Guard isn't about. An I'm tired of you hiding yer lovely face.”
I started signing to tell her exactly what I thought of that, but she grabbed my hands, silencing me.
“Hush! You are the noisiest and rudest mute I've ever met. Something's happening here, lass. Something big.” Marta was running her hand through my curly as she gazed into my eyes. “An it's not just your healings, amazing as they are. I swear ye grow prettier, no, more beautiful, day by day. Radiant."
Radiant, me? Ha!
'Yes, radiant, my healer.
'
Ravela
City of Marossa
Queen Ravela’s Palace – Throne Room
Mid Morning
“But Majesty, the ambassadors are waiting!”
“Let them, Ciro,” I answered, with all the indifference I could muster. “I will conduct our morning business, as we normally do. Two low level ambassadors will not cause us to scurry about like excited ants.”
In truth, we hadn’t conducted ‘normal business’ for months. Still, they would wait.
“But they may wish to negotiate trade treaties and-”
“-Silence!”
Trade negotiations. That's what they would claim, but it couldn't be their real reason. Why appear now, after breaking off all diplomatic contact for months? It meant trouble, to my thinking. And all our troubles first started when these two buzzards came a year ago, craving trade treaties with us.
My chief adviser shut his mouth and lowered his head. Still, he shuffled back and in as much of a worried pace as his aged body allowed, wringing his hands as he fretted my 'slight' of making them wait. Were we this desperate? Had we fallen so low we sat and rolled over like a trained dog when someone waved a bone?
“How goes the...” I thought hard; months had passed since I'd thought of anything except what needed to be done to restore Lunete. What were those things Cormac had started before he betrayed me? He'd said something about infrastructure needed. Oh yes.
“... bridge renovation project? What progress has been made?”
“Stalled for months, Majesty. Since the two outer provinces declared their autonomy, we've had a sharp drop in tax revenues, and-”
I shushed him with a brisk hand wave; yes, yes, I recalled something of this. I'd need to attend to those rebellious provinces.
I leaned back in my throne and glanced to my left and right, at the magnificent knights standing there, Captain Rowan Sechnall and his lieutenant, Malloy was it? They were my top military commanders, well-seasoned from their years in Wildevale’s corp. Sechnall would bear the rank of General in another army, but I felt any title above Captain was a threat to my authority, and I’d eliminated those ranks after I was crowned.
I paused a moment to consider the state of my Guard -it had been long since I thought of anything except Lunete- and I wondered if they’d be ready to crush the rebellious provinces once she awakened. They were loyal enough; they had no choice, for the obedience spell I cast was strong. But it became more and more of a chore to keep active on Rowan and his top officers. Not from a power perspective, I had scads of sorgente power to spare. No, it was annoying to have to keep reinforcing it so often.
“Captain Sechnall? We will be prepared to bring the rebels to heel when Lunete wakes, yes?”
“Sooner would be better than later, Majesty,” Sechnall leaned close. When he did, I noticed the dark circles in his eyes. “Another garrison has defected. So far the defections do not present a problem, but if we cannot delay forever.”
“We will wait only as long as it takes for Lunete to awaken and-”
Sechnall lurched forward and then caught himself.
“Are you unwell, Captain?” In truth he looked ready to collapse.
“The headaches … worsen,” he whispered. “The nightmare is back as well. For the others, too. Midwife Lavina gives us as much willow bark oil as she deems safe, yet the fits always return.”
I nodded, knowing well the cause of their headaches. I'd send them to the healers I'd imprisoned in the dungeon for relief, but then my memory spells would be discovered. The ones I'd placed on them to make them forget what I'd made them do to Cormac. It wasn't their fault their leader was a traitor. Those memories would haunt them far worse than the headaches.
For I am a merciful queen.
Cormac! All our woes come from him! Traitor!
Because of him, Lunete lies cold and unconscious, fading day by day.
Lunete! That reminded me.
“Thank you Captain. After he stepped back to my right, I motioned to Ciro to come close. I didn’t want the general audience to hear my next question.
“You've found another healer to try, yes?” I whispered. “Tell me you have, Ciro; we will be displeased if the answer is 'no'.”
Captain Sechnall leaned closer to listen to his answer; Lunete and he were lovers and were nearly betrothed before my sister was struck down. Yet another who suffers from Cormac’s betrayal. If Lunete died, I would let him remember what he did to Cormac – it may give him comfort.
“We have, Majesty, a healer of some note named Kreios. He is reputed to have banished gout from Guilderman Kade's big toe. A detail is collecting him as we speak. And, we've heard an amazing tale of a mute healer girl from the Anatols who-”
I waved him silent again. This was depressing, for it sounded like we scraped the barrel dregs in our search for Lunete's cure. If Master Healer Reynard had failed, who else could succeed? Yet we had to try. I must awaken my sister from her coma, and soon! It was the only thing left that mattered in what tattered life remained after my consort’s treachery, and time was running short.
“Inform me immediately when this Kree ...um, Krie … this healer has been brought to Lunete's room. In the meantime, I'm ready for my breakfast of vipers. With a side of roasted potatoes. Send for the ambassadors.”
Soon two robbed figures shuffled before me, bowing or curtsying according to their gender. Each had several attendants, bodyguards and hangers on who lurked behind. I cleared my throat.
“We greet you, Ambassadors Kijek and Aldana. It never rains but it pours. Wildevale hears silence from its beloved neighbors Arcum nor Parasia for months, and then, presto! you appear together.”
I sat forward in my throne chair, casting a quick glance to my left and right again. Sechnall and Malloy stood statue still, armor gleaming, hands resting on sword hilts, with an ‘I will kill you in an instant if the Queen orders it’ scowl on their faces. Intimidation is mandatory in matters diplomatic.
There was a time when all the kingdoms took note of us, not just these lower lever bureaucrats. We were strong! With my sorgente and Cormac's nique skills, we were making Wildevale into a power even King Amangons would fear. We were building! Exploring!
Rising!
Cormac’s duplicity destroyed all! He took all I loved! Lunete, my heart, everything.
Lover… Betrayer… Cormac!
That he traded our life together for Arcum blood gold still grates my soul.
Such a fool. Did he think I wouldn't know? That there wouldn't be a reckoning? I, who have the strongest sorgente in all the kingdoms?
He felt the fullness of that power! He didn't know it but I watched the punishment I devised play to its bittersweet end, watched as the life was beaten from his eyes, by the men he loved most.
I was horrified by his ending, but I couldn't stop myself from missing even a moment. What does that say about me?
No time for this! I took a deep breath, and focused on the snakes, er, ambassadors, both of whom were wrapped in invisible shields of magic. They were both niques, and not low level ones, either. I wonder what gods or goddesses they'd invoked to gain enough power to go before the Mad Queen of Wildevale. A friendly visit then. Let the games begin.
“Dear friends! What happy circumstance has brought you to us?”
“Greetings from the King of Arcum to Wildevale's beautiful and powerful ruler.”
Kijek, Arcum's ambassador spoke first. Hmm, whatever happened to ladies first?
“I am here as King Girtha's humble messenger, to convey this, his offer of peace. He proposes an alliance between our kingdoms to counter the Parasian aggression.”
He bowed and held a scroll up. I motioned to one of my pages to take it. And I plastered a smile on my face.
Arcum plots started all our troubles and woe! My magic glowed hot within me, my sorgente began rising. I wanted to blast this turd blossom to the dark god's seventh hell! But no, such an unprovoked action would be an act of war. And they were still mad about the eel thing, I suspected.
“Thank you, Ambassador Kijek. Wildevale shall deliberate Arcum's generous offer and speedily reply.”
Like hell we would. I nodded to Ambassador Aldana.
“Queen Kaelee, sends her love to her cousin,” Aldana said.
It was hard to tell what Aldana actually looked like, under the heavy white makeup their nobility wears to official functions. Cormac once told me they made the white paste they smeared on their faces by turning Anatol rice to powder. What a waste of rice. Between the bulky robe Aldana wore, the makeup and thick magic shield, hers true appearance remained a mystery to me, despite the many years she's attended my court.
“Please convey my deepest love back to my cousin, Ambassador.”
Kaelee was something like my 15th cousin once removed. I met her once in a greeting line at King Rhys’ wedding in Glamorgan when I was twelve. For those three seconds we were tight.
“My Queen also wishes to reestablish her Parasin ties to Wildevale. Arcum is once again threatening our borders; we must join to fight this threat.”
Kijek whispered “lies' as Aldana held a scroll up in her hands and curtsied. I guessed she curtsied; so hard to tell with that tent robe of hers. I motioned to another of my attendants, who took the scroll and stood next to the attendant bearing Arcum's scroll.
“Thank you, Ambassador Aldana. Wildevale shall also deliberate Parasian's generous offer and speedily reply.” I smiled at the woman, the required two seconds. I hoped my face wouldn't crack from the effort.
She nodded in reply, and then cocked her head. “The news from your kingdom has been all gloom and woe, these last months, Queen Ravela. How fares your sister? And we see nothing of Captain Cormac. What has become of him? We received reports that calamity had befallen him; is this so? Or is he on a secret trade mission to some fair away land?”
“Yes, Arcum too wonders what has happened to the good Captain,” Kijek said.
A murmur rippled through the court audience. It seems the ambassadors hadn’t heard of my law forbidding the saying of that name. Or perhaps they had, and wanted to bait me. They want to play games? Then games it shall be.
“We should catch up on all the gossip in a more intimate setting," I said through my teeth. “I trust you will join us for dinner tomorrow night? A feast in your honor. Wildevale wishes to show its hospitality to its honored guests.”
The Ambassadors' eyes flickered. Haha! They hadn't been expecting it. I'm certain dining with me was the last thing they wanted. I smiled again, and this time it didn't hurt at all.
A pageboy scurried in and whispered something in Crios' ear. Who in turn whispered in mine, that the healer had been brought to the infirmary and was ready to try to waken Lunete.
My hopes were low, but we had to try. I would never give up! Even if I had to kidnap all the healers in Argentia. And ending my audience with these worms so soon after it had begun would be a pleasurable insult.
“If you will excuse me, dearest friends, I have urgent matters to attend to,” I said as I rose. “I'm looking forward to dining with you tomorrow.”
From the dour expressions that played on their faces, they weren't.
Kemi
City of Marossa
Selene’s Hall
Early Afternoon
“Didja hear? The Mad Queen got Kreios.”
Philio’s voice was a whisper's whisper, yet it echoed in Selene’s Hall. Normally the place was so packed it was hard to move, filled with the injured and infirm, with healers, midwives, physicians, apprentices, and with spectators too. Deserted, it seems so much larger.
My eyes wander, gazing at brightly painted murals I didn’t know were there before, of the goddess Selene instructing the first healers of Argentia in the Healer’s Path.
The images grabbed me, as did the story they depicted - a mythical fable, telling of how Selene in the dawn of time, sent forth the First Healer. And, filled with the power of Selene herself, Her healer taught the people Selene’s way, the Healer’s Path.
Another mural showed the healer giving a cup to an elf maid, the first of the famed cupbearers of Ysial, I supposed. Elves, heh! Myths were fun to read and know, but I wondered who this first Healer had really been. Probably some poor schmuck who discovered if you didn’t bleed out all of a patient’s blood with leeches, the person tended to live longer.
Still, staring at the mural panels, I couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. Which was silly, right?
“Didn’t you hear him, Kemi?” Myrrine grabbed my arm and shook me. I scowled, giving her my ‘screw you, I’m mute, not deaf’ look.
“Whatever. Phil and I are safe enough, since we barely can heal warts, but you? After the stunt you pulled this morning, I bet they are combing the city for you now. There is surely a reward on your head. You gotta leave; this is the first place they’ll come. Hide! Go to ground. Now! I'll help you vanish.”
She was right; I’d need to run to my room, grab my few clothes and what money I had, and disappear. I signed my answer to her with my hands, and then dropped my spoon into my bowl of black bean soup with a *plop*. Any appetite I had fled, replaced by the familiar knot of fear in my stomach. What a fool I was to imagine I might be allowed even the smallest bit of happiness.
“What did she say?” Philio asked Myrrine.
I wondered how Myrrine would translate my sullen answer to him. I’d signed, ‘who in their right mind would want a freak like me?’
The lean rust-haired novice healer shook her head at my comment. She was the closest thing I had to a friend. I wondered why she’d tried.
She couldn’t want my company; I’m a silent, scowling little rat who’d wanted nothing to do with anyone since Marta pulled me from the other garbage floating down the Muln.
Maybe she thought we were the same, unwanted outcasts. She'd been raised in a secretive family whose ancient family business was assassinations. It's funny what people will tell a mute; Myrrine spilled her entire history once when we were alone. She'd reached the testing age when the young are screened for magic ability and her tests showed she was a moderate nique with healer potential.
Sorgentes were the rarest; only one or two appeared in a generation. Niques were uncommon and strong niques were often sent to special schools to develop their skills. It's what my family -my old one- had done with me.
Myrrine's family distrusted magic, she told me, and they thought her healer potential made her flawed for their particular business. They'd paid a fee to the Hall to take her; and she's never heard from them since.
For whatever reason, I was glad she tried to befriend me, for she was one of the few who even knew sign. She'd learned it for her family trade; silent communication among assassins was a useful tool, I supposed. I appreciated her knowing it, for when there was no one around who could sign, my voice was truly silenced. Not that my voice mattered.
If I was honest, I’d admit I liked her. A lot. That I looked forward to the times in the day when I could see her.
But I’m not honest. Honesty gets you nothing, there is no justice and life is fulled with never ending pain. Until you die.
‘Let go of bitterness, Kemi. Live again. You are needed.’
I blinked; I’d been hearing that voice, her voice, in my head more and more, and it worried me I was going insane. Well, more insane.
“She said she has nowhere else to go.” Myrrine said to Philio, and took my hand in hers.
I felt her worry pouring from her. Worry based on the rumors of the atrocities committed in the last year by Wildevale’s mad ruler. Her worry wasn’t misplaced, for Ravela’s atrocities had been the talk of Marossa for months.
There were plenty to choose from, and I tried to remember the more interesting ones: she transformed an Arcum spy into an eel and had him tossed into the Southern Sea for trying to blackmail her into paying a ‘safe passage’ tariff to use the Anatol Straits.
Or that since her sister Lunete’s sleeping sickness, she feeds her human blood during the witching hour to keep her alive.
Sadly, there were many many more of these tales.
Had she done these things? At the heart of any rumor is a grain of truth, they say. I knew two truths about Ravela; she is one of the strongest sorgente in generations in all the kingdoms, and she hadn’t hesitated to use the full extent of that power on me one year ago.
“No family? Aunts or Uncles? Or friends?” Philio said. “No one you can stay with until this blows over?
My head dropped. No, no family. None. My old life was gone. Obliterated. The queen killed the 'me' that was, twisting my body inside out and…
Stop! Can’t think about it!
I crammed those dark memories back in the hole I’d buried them in. But the damned things were evil and pesky, always crawling back out…
…anyway, Ravela went further, thorough creature that she is; she decreed I never existed and had my name removed from the birth rolls. It was illegal to even speak my old name. My own parents couldn’t claim me. Not that they would. They wouldn’t even know me now.
And friends? Holy Mother Goddess! That warped bitch cast a sick compulsion spell on my closest friends that made them hunger for my body, taking me over and over, pinning me down and…
Stop! Can’t!
“Honey? What’s wrong?” Myrrine said giving my hand another gentle squeeze. “You’re all cold and clammy, and look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I gave a shrug. My ‘go to’ gesture, I guess. There are far worse things than ghosts.
“Could you stay with Marta,” Philio asked.
The lad was trying, gods love him. But he was as naive as a Glamorgan farmboy. I’ve grown to love Marta -there, I said it, happy, little voice in head?- she rescued me when the Palace crapped me out. With all the healers being rounded up and imprisoned, there was no way I was going to stay with the widow at night and endanger either her or her kids. Just being with me in the daylight hours was way more risk than I wanted her taking.
Speaking of the devil… a rapid slap of sandal leather on stone floor announced Marta's hurried arrival.
“Kemi! Quick, lass!”
She was breathing fast; she must have been running a long distance.
“There’s been a horrible fire at the dock! Men are burned badly! Come! Come!”
I jumped to my feet and started to run when Myrrine grabbed the sleeve of my robe.
“No! Send another, Marta. It’s too dangerous for Kemi to-”
“-there are no others!” Marta growled. “Even if there were, Kemi is the one to go. These men will die unless she comes.”
“No!” Philio jumped to his feet. "You can't take her! I won’t risk her getting captured and-”
“-But it’s not your decision, is it, Philio Sheehy?” Whenever Marta used your full name, you knew you were in trouble. “It’s Kemi’s. What would you, lass? Stay or go?”
I froze, agonizing over what to do. I was so scared! I, who used to be privileged and powerful. In the Queen’s inner circle. I, who was respected and feared. Now? I fear everything. I couldn’t do anything that might risk bringing me back to her.
Buried memories, my own special demons, crawled from my mind’s pit again. Reminding me of the endless pain that burned me when Ravela’s magic hit. And after... after, when my comrades took me, climbing on me, pushing in me and…
No! I wouldn’t go to the docks. I’d hide and then flee Marossa!
Marta had trained me well. I recognized the symptoms in myself, when my vision blurred and peoples’ voices started echoing, I knew I was in a full panic attack. These came often in the last year, and I remembered the technique the midwife taught me: breath slower. Deeper. Count the breaths, in, out, in, out.
One by one I crammed the memory phantasms back into their pit.
‘Think not of who you were, Kemi. Instead think, who are you?’
I blinked, again wondering who spoke those words.
But then, newer memories filled my mind. My Kemi ones.
I’ve helped Marta deliver dozens of babies; messy screaming amazing new lives. I’ve seen people peacefully cross to the next world, caught the glow of their souls as they raced to the sea of souls.
Where before I was nique, a gifted magic user, now I’m sorgente – one in whom magic grows. One of the few in Argentia. Which lets me do miracles, as I did with the young boy this morning. And when I healed? I felt a presence with me, embracing and wrapping me in love, something vast, and…
‘I love you dearly.’
Who am I?
‘Yes, Kemi, who?’
Not who I was. That person was dead.
But then, who have I become?
In truth, I didn’t know anything about my new body, though I’d inhabited it for a year. Marta taught me how to deal with the basic biology of it, but otherwise I'd ignored it. I hadn’t lived in it. I'd survived.
It's funny; I've been healing for months, but I've never thought about what it meant. I mean really thought about it, you know? I'd ignored that too. Pretended it was a weird side effect of what Ravela did to me.
I could ignore it no longer.
In the deepest part of my damaged soul, I knew the answer to ‘who am I’ was the pivot point. I sensed futures far beyond imagining hung in the balance. What I said next would change everything.
I looked at my hands.
I couldn't lie about this, couldn't deny it: I loved easing others pain, relieving their suffering. Lightening their weary burden. With every fiber of my being I did.
The answer was simple.
And, though I wanted to be a thousand miles away, hiding at the bottom of the deepest cave in Argentia, instead, with steady hands, I signed:
"I -am -a -healer."
‘Finally!’
“Praise Selene,” the midwife said, and gave me ‘the look’, the one that told me she knew how hard a thing I had just done. “Come then, healer, we’ve wasted precious time! We must fly!”
Ravela
Palace Infirmary - Lunete’s room
Late Morning
“Is the first directive of a healer,” I asked, and felt the perpetual rage in me grow icy cold, “still to do no harm to any under the healer's care?”
“Y-yes Queen Ravela. But please! There is something unnatural about her affliction. Show mercy!”
The man’s skin paled and hands quivered; he dared not look at me, choosing instead to stare at the figure of my comatose sister. Pretending he cared for her. Moron! Her breathing was shallower after this ‘healer’ failed to awaken her with his pathetic efforts.
“The only mercy I shall show,” I motioned to my guards, “is I will allow you to live so long as she does. Take him to the dungeon with the others!”
“Please great queen! I have a wife! Children to feed! Mercy!”
I breathed a relieved sigh after my guards led him away far enough that I no longer suffered his grating pleas. I motioned to Ciro, who stood close by, fretting as usual.
“Go to the Treasury, and have a small stipend created for the family of this man… Kreios? They shouldn’t suffer for his incompetence.”
“My queen is compassionate!”
Compassion? Me? The ‘Mad Queen of Wildevale’? I ran my hand over Lunete’s cheek. So cold to the touch. Soon it would be the year’s anniversary of her attack, and she had not once stirred from her coma. Day by day she grew paler. Her breaths shallower. But I knew she would fret if children starved. It was the only reason I granted this ‘mercy’. For her.
After I raised my stasis spell again to cover her, Crios softly cleared his throat.
“A thousand pardons, your highness, but your prison now houses over a dozen healers, and so there is now a scarcity of them in the city. Also, the remaining healers have gone into hiding for fear of being made to try to heal the princess. We may soon have a serious problem on our-”
“-Silence! They were not true healers, not a one! Else they could have cured her!”
“but Majesty, our people need them! The midwives and physicians can only help so much and-”
“-then find me a true healer. And for the gods' sake, find one more competent than this fool. And soon, too. If Lunete dies, I will kill them all.”
“Excellent news on that subject, Majesty! as I mentioned earlier, we have heard rumors of a fabulous healer in the city's south quadrant who performs such miraculous healings, I believe she is not nique, she's sorgente…”
Ciro began pacing back and forth, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. He limped as he paced. Gods, I drove him too hard and treated him poorly. I'd make amends to him ...later. After Lunete awakens I would give him a good long holiday. But first I must awaken her. I'd try to be kinder then ...later.
“…even today, she is said to have healed a child so badly injured, his soul must surely have begun its journey to the Selene’s bosom when she called him back.”
A sorgente healer? I never heard of one! I gripped Ciro’s arms.
“Assign all the Guard to this. Use my spies. Enlist our entire army, but find her and bring her to me.”
“Even with all looking it will be challenging to find the woman in Marossa if she doesn’t wish to be. Better to let her come to us, ma’am.”
I frowned, not seeing how this was practical or even possible. But Ciro is a clever enough fellow -it’s why he is still here and not rotting in a cell- so I withheld my ready insult.
“Explain.”
“As I said, there are few healers left in the city, and those are in hiding. To, er, catch them, I have today set up teams of agents who will race to the scenes of any accidents which befall our city. I believe we will find her rather quickly, my queen, when she responds.”
I laughed, a rarer event these days, than my smiles. But gods! I loved the simplicity of the thought.
“Well said, Ciro. Make it happen. NOW!”
“Yes my queen,” he answered, and ran from the infirmary like a bug scuttling from a rock that has been lifted. I looked down on my sister and whispered:
“I have a good feeling this time, Lunete. Don’t you dare die on me. I forbid it.”
Kemi
City of Marossa
Dock District
Mid Afternoon
“Help… me…”
“Shhhh. Be at peace. The healer is here.”
Marta stood back from the burned… well, man, I supposed; his body was so scorched it was hard to tell.
Eeeeeeeeeeee his melted face! Blackened skin! I recoiled in revulsion; I couldn’t touch that! Couldn't open myself to that!
*SMACK*
Wait, what? I blinked, trying to figure out what just happened.
*SMACK*
My cheek was stinging and throbbing as I realized Marta had slapped me.
“Snap out of it, Kemi! Ye cannot freeze on me. Do ye not feel your power building?”
I closed my eyes. Yes… the horror before me distracted me, but now I felt the power blazing up and down my spine.
That’s the thing, what makes those who are sorgente so prized. Nique magic users can do wondrous things, of course, but they must first call the power to them. So in an emergency like this, a nique healer might not have enough ready power to heal with.
Every morning, a nique healer’s first act is to try to gather power, through rituals, or in the temples of which ever god or goddess worked best for them. And once they use the power, it’s gone, and they must gather more.
But my power, my new power, which is sorgente, is different. Sorgentes are rare; only women are so blessed, or cursed, depending on your view of it, but the power is in them, always. Waiting to be tapped, like an underground well of water. I’ve never heard of a healer with the power.
My sorgente has been growing ever since Marta pulled me from the river. And right now? I was filled with more than I’d ever felt. If I didn’t release it soon, I’d burn up myself!
Still, I shook my head ‘no!’ to the midwife. My eyes begging her not to make me.
Couldn't open myself to that pain. Then, the voice rang in my head:
‘HEAL THIS MAN!’
I hesitated no more. I placed my hands on the man’s charred chest, and lightning struck; incandescence. My thoughts followed the energy as it raced over his body as a wave, renewing, no! regrowing his skin, his eyes, ears and lips. Cascading inward, the energy sought organs destroyed by the heat, his lungs, liver, kidneys, spleen, on and on. When the energy finally ebbed, I lifted my hands and opened my eyes, not daring to look at the man, staring instead at Marta’s face.
“Kemi! Oh! Wondrous Lady” she whispered, in awe, and Marta is not awed by anything. “I’ve never seen such a thing. It’s as if Selene herself possessed ye! Look! Look!”
I did and gasped. Or I would have gasped if I could make a sound. A silent gasp then. For what I saw…
His skin was a new healthy pink, no signs of the burns, save for the lack of hair and eyebrows. That would grow back, though, in time. His breathing was regular and deep; he slept and even wore a smile upon his face.
I held my hands before my eyes in disbelief – had I really done that?
‘Yes, you did. And can do so much more.’
“I know, lass, it’s a marvel," Marta said. "But we’ve no time for it; there are three others burned nearly as bad. Come! Come!”
My elation faded at her words. I was suddenly so exhausted! I put up no fight now, I let Marta lead me to the next victim. But I didn’t see how I could heal them all.
‘You can. You have the power.’
By the time I laid my hands on the last, Marta held me upright with her strong arms. The seaman’s pain called to me, so my healing energy surged, but black specks filled my vision; I couldn’t last much longer.
I sensed people crowding me, heard them saying, "blessed Selene!" "Holy One!"
Then,
“You there! Healer! Don’t move! In the name of the Queen I would have words with you.”
His voice sounded so far away. I wondered who he was talking to. Someone shouted, "leave her alone, she's our healer!" And another, "the Mad Queen can't have her!"
“The Guard has found you!" Marta hissed in my ear. “Run, Lass! Run"
I gave a feeble head shake. I was locked on now, I couldn’t stop. If I did, he'd die.
She understood, and said. “I brought ye here and so here I’ll not desert ye.”
She can’t let them take me! They must not take me to the palace! I'd rather die than go back there!
I couldn’t raise my hands from the sailor’s chest to sign my fear. In truth I doubt I could have raised them at all, for the black specs were swarming like flies now, filling my vision. I felt myself slumping forward. My lips mouthing a silent prayer as darkness took me-
Blessed Selene, don’t let them take me back there. Kill me kill me kill me…
‘Never!’
End Part 1
Kemeia Ascending - Part 2
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Ravela's agents have captured Kemi and taken her back to the place of her nightmares. Where the Queen orders her to heal the sleeping princess. Can Kemi succeed where all other healers have failed? And has Lunete been poisoned, or is something more sinister at work? Kemi better solve the riddle of the sleeping princess and soon, or she, Marta and all the healers will suffer the queen's cruel wrath.
Kemeia Ascending
by armond
Part 2
Ravela
City of Marossa
Palace Infirmary
Early evening
“A novel approach, Ciro, I’ll give you that. I order you to bring me a healer to revive my comatose sister, and you bring me one in a coma herself.”
It is taking every ounce of restraint I possess not to blast something or someone. How long must I suffer the incompetence of fools? Lunete has no time to spare!
Before me, a young woman -barely more than a girl, really- lay in an infirmary cot, unmoving, her eyes shut tight. She wore a cheap woolen robe of a drab olive hue and her feet were bare and dirty. Yet lustrous black curls framed a face that was mysterious and dark. Exotic.
Next to her stood another woman, one well past her youthful days. She donned the rich green robe of a midwife. If I had to place the look on her face, I’d say it was somewhere between distress and attack dog.
“Mistress Kemi is not in a coma, ma’am. She drained herself healing men burned beyond all recognition. Never in all my years have I seen such a thing.” The midwife stroked the unconscious girl’s cheek, and I saw wonder lingering in her eyes. Then she crossed her arms and stared at me.
“Kemi will rouse soon enough I reckon. She needs her rest.”
My eyes traveled over the sleeping girl again because something felt …familiar ...about her.
“By all accounts, her healings were nothing short of miraculous, Queen Ravela.” Ciro shuffled his weary body across the room to stand near the cot. “Agent Devros reported she turned their charred black skin to healthy pink. Surely this one is sorgente.”
His faced wrinkled in an expression of uneasiness, one he’d worn every day since Lunete lapsed into her coma.
“Devros also reported a riot broke out when they took her. The people screamed at my agents to leave their healer alone.”
Riot was there? Damn the people! Lunete needed this healer more than they. For the first time in a year, I had hope. The girl's fiery magic called to my own. Though hers was a healing energy, and my sorgente flowed to high spell craft, we resonated. And this one was so strong. I felt it! She could be as strong as me.
No, I will keep this healer to see what she can do. I needed to know so much more, so the midwife now had my fullest attention.
“And your name is…”
“Marta Coona, yer highness, I'm a 4th level mid wife, trained in Selene's Halls.”
I nodded, considering her words, her thick Glamorgan accent. She wasn't young, I guessed early 40s, but to reach that level before one is silver-haired is remarkable. She must be highly skilled.
“You work with this healer? Who is she? Speak plain and true, your lives are in the balance.”
I cared not that the people think I'm wicked for imprisoning the healers. I know what they call me. My heart hardened the day Lunete was poisoned. My baby sister! She who hosted banquets for the poor. She who couldn’t abide seeing a stray dog on the streets of Marossa without taking the miserable mutt in and finding a home. Everyone, everyone loved her.
Save one. Cormac!
“Her name's Kemeia, though we call her Kemi, Majesty, and she arrived from the Anatol Isles some months ago. I'm paired with the lass, ya see. For she's a mute and I know the sign language.”
My eyes glanced from Marta to the sleeping almond skinned beauty. And she was a beauty; I could tell even with the hideous robe she wore. A mute too? Fascinating. And from the Anatol Isles? Her raven hair, and spicy complexion suggested it.
The Isles ...such a mystery to us mainlanders. Cormac made a diplomatic expedition there once early in my reign. He'd convinced me we needed to reach out to our neighbors to the south, but they rebuffed him. He had so many new ideas for our kingdom: alliances, road building projects, a university even and...
No! Cormac! Traitor!
I shook my head. No doubt some fascinating tale wrapped around the pretty little healer from the enigmatic isles, but I cared not. She would heal my sister or she would join the others to rot in prison. Or die. Lunete was running out of time.
“Wake her.”
Kemi
Palace - Infirmary
Early evening
I'm bouncing down some stairs.
No, that’s not right.
I'm tumbling down a mountain.
No, wrong again.
Someone was shaking me.
Dammit! Let me sleep!
I pried an eyelid up, to see Marta's face before me. A smile creep across my face, for I'd grown accustomed to the iron-willed midwife. Then I saw others nearby...
To my stood an aged man with white bushy eyebrows, wearing gray ministerial robes. I knew him well - Ciro, Ravela's chief adviser. One of the few bureaucrats I respected when I was here before... before she... before…
Ravela!
My eyes darted to the figure over Marta's right shoulder, and I saw her
Demoness!
Her face …oval in perfect dimensions, rosy and fair without blemish, framed by hair of spun gold. Her lips… full, pouty and deep rose red. Lips I'd kissed so many times. All other rulers in Argentia suffer by comparison to her, save maybe Glamorgan princesses.
A face, in my past, I’d loved. There was a time, when her heart and mind moved in a different direction.
Yet, looking in her eyes now I saw the truth. There, in her irises of forest green with flecks of gold:
Cruelty.
Icy cold.
Insanity.
Memories of my changing and endless sick torture slammed me and panic engulfed me:
ESCAPE! I had to get away from her! Now!
My head thrashed to the right and left looking for a door or window or...
Marta seized my face -the woman's grip was as strong as many soldiers I'd known- and she leaned to whisper in my ear:
“Peace, Kemi. You look nothing like the day I fished ye from the Muln. She hasn't a clue who ye are. Stick to the story.”
It took many deep breaths before the panic relaxed its vice grip on my chest. But finally, my brain started working.
Ravela didn't know? How could she not? Think! We'd been at the docks with the burn victims and now we were here in -I looked around once more - the Palace Infirmary. So Ravela must want me to try to heal Lunete and not resume her sadistic torture.
She …doesn't even know me.
I took a deep breath and exhaled.
‘Stick to the story,’ Marta said. She was the one person in Wildevale I'd managed to tell of what Ravela did to me. It hadn't been easy; she’d been after me for months to tell what happened, or even who I was. One snowy afternoon several months ago, when she'd grown weary of calling me 'lass', she sat me down and made me tell. And somehow, in between my silent weeping, beating the ground with my fists, or her sitting on me to stop me from running, I eked out a sliver of my story.
Of how Ravela’s high spell magic transformed me; twisting me inside out. Her spell ripped and shredded all I was, a man, a captain, tall and in his prime, and left me as I am, this shattered feminine thing.
And I’d left out the worst part.
‘Oh lassie,’ Marta had whispered after I’d finished my tale, 'I grieve you’ve suffered so. I canna imagine. But who you were is dead; you’ve said the Queen has made it so. Screw her! We'll invent a new you. Ye look like you're fresh off the boat from the isles, so we'll call ye an Anatol name, hey? A name came to me in a dream just the other night. From this day forward, you’re Kemeía, wondrous mute healer from the Anatol Isles.’
Stick to the story. I swallowed and nodded to Marta I was calm. But, with the vile beast who sent me to hell standing steps away, only Selene knows how long it would last.
Ravela
Palace Infirmary
Early evening
“Is she touched, Mistress Coona? Tell me why I shouldn't be offended.”
Maybe I’d chain the young healer until she settled down. The raw terror in the girl’s eyes when she saw me was disconcerting. Or maybe I should be proud of how the mere sight of me inspires such horror.
I’m not. I’m exhausted.
“Begging yer pardon, ma’am, the lass was confused is all,” the midwife said as she stood from where she'd crouched beside the healer’s cot. With hand on hip, her eyes met mine. “She fainted from exhaustion at the docks, healing men burned so bad that by all rights they should be dead, only to awaken to face her queen? The very one who's been throwing all healers like her into her dark dungeons? Why, it’d give anyone a fright.”
Oh she’s a feisty one!
“Bold words, Mistress Coona. Now, any affront I may suffer will be more than soothed if your little healer...” I struggled to remember the name Marta had given.
“Kemi...” Marta supplied.
“Yes, all will be forgiven if Kemi can heal my sister. Should she fail, though her life, and yours, is forfeit.”
I crunched my forehead when the girl, Kemi, began making rapid movements with her hands. Sign talking, I guessed. “What did she say?”
“Mistress Kemi said she would like to confer with the healers emprisoned in your dungeon to see if she can learn from their mistakes before she tries.”
Kemi nodded her yes, but she wouldn't meet my gaze. She was still panic-stricken.
I frowned; was she stalling? It did make a certain amount of sense.
“Majesty, her request is reasonable and I recommend you grant it...” Ciro's voice trailed off.
That's when I noticed he, too, gazed at me with fearful eyes. Was I so horrible my own chief adviser lived in fear of me? And ...why was I just noticing now? Not ...noticing; I was aware of how unbalanced I've been for the last year. No, the question is, why is it bothering me now? This moment?
“Very well.” I held up my index finger. “One hour, my sweet sweet Kemi. I must attend to preparations for a royal feast tomorrow night. When I return, you will heal my sister of her affliction. Or else other things will happen to you. Unpleasant things.”
I wagged my finger at her the way I do when I begin a spell. And when I did? I swear the young woman turned whiter and almost threw up.
“Ciro, kindly escort these lovely ladies to our quaint dungeon, and release all the prisoners into the dungeon commons.”
Kemi
Palace Dungeon Commons
Twilight
“We're doomed. Dead men all.”
Wasn’t sure, but that was Master Healer Edric speaking? I'd never formally met any of them. None knew what to do with me; the stray dog Marta adopted who followed her rounds among the women of Marossa. From what Marta told me, the male master healers wanted as little to do with 'female health issues' as possible, so they were more than happy to ignore me. Until I started healing people.
“Kreios the fool nearly killed the princess this morning. To let an untrained healer loose on her will finish the job for sure. We'll be executed at dawn.”
Master Tadhgán spoke those words; I’d seen him walking at Selene's Halls on several occasions, always immersed in some weighty discussion, making large gestures with his hands. I thought he seemed full of himself. Philio would gawk at him as a lad does to a girl on his first crush.
Many of the healers grunted their agreement with Tadhgán’s assessment of my chances. One in particular blanched at their words; Master Kreios, I guessed.
Yes, I get they're worried. They didn't know me, nor had they seen me heal. Add to that the days or weeks some had been imprisoned, and they were a cranky pungent lot.
Marta's silence surprised me; the woman wasn't intimidated by anyone. Just moments ago she'd told Ravela off! But now she was quiet and her gaze was on one healer in particular. The one who'd been jailed the longest; his long white beard looked so unkempt, a family of mice could live in it and no one would be wiser. But for all his haggard look, his eyes sparkled and face showed kindness. He shrugged to her, as if saying he was embarrassed for the words of his brethren. I knew him, as did everyone in Marossa: Master Reynard, the Patriarch of the Healer's Guild.
The citizens of Marossa were outraged when the Queen began jailing the healers who failed to rouse Lunete from her coma, especially when she began by tossing their beloved Reynard into her dungeon. But after she continued jailing healer after healer, the outrage faded to numbness. All knew what happened if you crossed Ravela. All knew of Captain Cormac, the queen's own consort, who vanished, never to be seen again, when Lunete was first struck with her sleeping illness, and the evidence, the rumors said, pointed to him.
Everyone knew that story and no one truly knew it at all.
“We will be executed at dawn, I assure you, if we fail to prepare Kemi as best we can,” Reynard said, and walked to me.
“The thing is, we all made the same mistake.”
Mistake? I needed to know this! I made an emphatic swirling motion with my hand, telling him to continue.
“We were each dragged by armed guard to Lunete's infirmary room. Told she had been poisoned. And ordered to heal her, or face execution. You've heard the same, I imagine?”
“The lass has,” Marta spoke for me.
“You were wise to ask to speak with us, for here's the part we didn't know,” Reynard said. “I'll be brief in my telling, for we haven't much time.”
He told me for the months after Lunete lapsed into her coma, she was treated by the Palace's physician Master Jarlath. His diagnosis was Lunete had been poisoned by a tricky toxic Parasian herb called chamalla. Jarlath felt the safest treatment was to let the poison dissipate before attempting to revive the princess. Yet, that process was slower by the stasis spell upon Lunete's body. What should have taken days stretched on for months.
“The Queen’s patience wore thin, because she finally forced him to try to wake her, and when he failed…”
I signed my follow up question to Marta, who spoke it for me.
“She imprisoned him? If so, Kemi wonders if we shouldn’t be speaking with him, too, since he tended to Lunete the longest.”
How could I have forgotten Jarlath? A jovial fellow, even if he was 'in the cups' a little too often. He's helped and healed me and my men many times.
“She did indeed imprison the poor fellow. But we will get little help from him, for the queen was especially angered with him.”
When I gave him a questioning look, his shoulders drooped and his eyes darkened.
“Jarlath? Step forward.”
Everyone turned to a dim corner of the dungeon commons, so I did too. A figure stepped from the shadows…a man, except … oh Selene no! …he had the head of a jackass...
I turned away, my body quivering. Why Ravela, why? You have many sins to answer for.
Marta wrapped me in her arms and I welcomed her warmth.
“Return to your shadows, Jarlath,” Reynard said in a soft sad voice.
When I heard soft braying sobs, my heart fractured; I longed to ease his suffering.
‘You can, Kemi. Heal Lunete’.
I wondered what my private head voice meant, how healing Lunete would help Jarlath.
“As you see, Jarlath can’t help us,” Reynard said, shaking his head. “I cannot recall seeing such cruelty as this.”
I had. And far worse. But I wouldn’t think of that; now was not the time me to lose it.
“So we each assumed a poison afflicted the princess, yet when we melded with her, we found no poison at all, but as nasty a spell as any we’ve seen.”
A spell? What spell?
Reynard read my face and answered. “It’s hard to say for certain as we were only given one try. It seems similar to the obedience spell used by the fell Arcum mind mages which gives pain when the victim disobeys, but tightens tighter when a healer tries to remove it. Yet, it also acts like the sleep spell used by Parasian healers, when a patient has suffered brain trauma and must be forced into a coma to let the swelling subside.”
“You can see the problem,” Reynard said, speaking now to Marta. “We did the logical thing when we melded. We tried to snap the energy band of the spell. But the more we pulled, the tighter it grew, and…”
“The deeper the poor princess sank into her coma,” Marta finished his thought.
Marta faced the group, with her arms crossed. “I know ye think the lass hasn’t a chance to succeed where you’ve all failed, but you’re wrong! I’ve seen the little one do things no other healer in Argentia.”
“I have faith in her,” Reynard said. “For I feel her sorgente burning in her now. It’s a blast furnace! Like none I’ve ever felt! And in a healer. Do you think you can, Kemi?”
I had experience with Arcum mind spells before. When I was in charge of the Guard… before Ravela took me and…
...no! Not now! Concentrate!
…knowing I was dealing with a spell made a huge difference. Easier, maybe, for I had less experience with poisons. I signed my answer to Marta. Who gave the group a fierce grin.
“Yes Master Reynard, Kemi says she can.”
I thought I could! A plan formed in my mind. Sort of.
“Can ye face her again,” Marta whispered so only I would hear. “I hate to be sayin this, but our freedom depends on you. But I know what she did to you, and how much ye quail to be near her. Can ye?”
“Yes” I nodded.
Had I told her the truth? Or lied?
Kemi
Palace Infirmary - Lunete’s room
Dusk
“She wants me to do WHAT?”
I’d never been so frustrated by my inability to utter a sound as now. Signing complex spell instructions through Marta -who had scant spell experience- would have been a chore under the best of circumstances. But now, with the devil so close, I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking. Add in Ravela’s sadistic temper, coiled and ready to explode, and -abracadabra!- a recipe for more pain and cruelty. Still, for Lunete’s sake, I had to get it straight. So I took a deep breath and tried signing again.
“Kemi says, once she removes, um, lifts, the mind …erm, magic?” Marta was trying as hard as she could, Selene love her, but she was mangling it. “…you are to capture it in, uh… a ball?”
Ravela was silent for so long, I feared her mind was busy recalling a spell to cast on me. My body shivered remembering the pure agony of her last one.
“So …if I understand …Kemi believes a mind spell is on Lunete, an active one, and once she raises it, I’m to …cast a capture sphere to contain it. Is that right healer?”
Relieved, I bobbed my head. She understood! I hoped she would. In brighter days, before her madness, we even practiced something like this for training. I signed more instructions.
“And she says,” Marta relayed, “you need to be ready to capture it on her count.”
“Leave us, Ciro,” Ravela said as she turned to the adviser, who was standing nearby with several of the Guard. “And take these guardsmen with you.”
“Yes, Majesty.” Ciro, and the men, seemed more than happy to escape the room.
Once gone, Ravela walked in front of me and grabbed my face. I could feel her sorgente rising in her; gods she was strong!
“Oh, I’ll be ready, little healer. And if Lunete is harmed, if she suffers in any way, I will kill you here and now, in as excruciating a way as I can imagine. And I can imagine …much.”
My memories crashed back then; the burning pain, the endless torture. If I could have screamed, I would have. Instead, my body shivered and my heart beat raced.
Ravela smiled. “Why, I do believe you are more frightened now than when you awoke. Good!”
“Of course she’s scared, you idiot,” Marta hissed. “What she’s going to attempt would be difficult under any circumstances, and now you’ve paralyzed her with fear. Do you want your sister to die?”
I thought ignite Ravela off for sure, but it had a different effect. Uncertainty. Maybe no one spoke frankly to her anymore.
“No… no I don’t want that at all, I…” Ravela paused, removed her hands from my face, and stepped back. “Get on with it.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, and nodded to Ravela I was ready. With a gesture of her hand, the invisible stasis shield that covered Lunete lowered. And I placed my hands on her either side of her temples and melded.
Memories of the young princess filled my mind; happy ones, for the girl was a joy.
Lunete
You’ve become the stuff of fairytales now. The story of the sleeping princess and the insane queen has spread far and wide; I’d heard little else in the city this last year. It’s funny how a story takes on a life of its own, often ending far away from the truth.
The tale, as is now told, is of a beautiful princess, in a shimmering white silk gown, asleep on a bed of roses, under a crystal cover. Mysteriously cursed to sleep one hundred years, while her mad witch sister; bereaved with grief, wrecks vengeance on the poor people of Wildevale.
In fact, Ravela’s stasis spell had to be kept in place to keep her sister alive. Otherwise Lunete would have wasted away from lack of water and food. Her eyes are sunken and dark and her silky blonde hair has fallen out, leaving her bald.
As I opened my soul to her, as I melded, I saw that which the other healers had spoken of, an angry red energy band surrounding her brain. The brain, so wondrous; as a healer I’ve learned some of how it works. I've watched the mind sparks firing, each one, I imagined, a thought. Yet, the red band was suppressing those in Lunete, keeping her dull and unthinking.
The temptation was to pull on that band with my own energy. Snap it loose and free Lunete’s thoughts. So tempting. But that’s where the other healers failed.
Instead I connected my energy to it, and pushed. Rather than trying to rip it, I poured my energy into it. Because to unloosen a knot I knew you sometimes had to push, not pull. Pulling only made it worse. Simple, eh?
That was my theory anyway. I prayed it worked, because the only proven way I’d heard of removing an Arcum mind spell, was to kill the caster. And it would be I -and now Martha too- who would be pay with our lives, and the lives of the other healer, if this failed.
The energy band soon overloaded, yet I poured my own energy in faster still. Soon it must do something, and as I was not pulling, it could not tighten, so…
…it grew. Expanded. Larger and larger.
More power, Kemi, you have it. Use it.
That voice again! She’d spoken to me ever since Marta fished me from the river, but lately more and more. Oh well, I guess if there’s a crazy voice in your head, it helps if she makes good suggestions.
So I did as she said, I poured in my energy, my sorgente giving me more more more.
“I can see it,” I heard Marta whisper.
Good. That meant the band was large enough for me to try to move it. I gently lifted my energy stream, letting it rise, and the red band followed. Up, up, off of Lunete and floating above her. It wriggled and flopped in the air, reminding me of a gasping fish on a river bank. I made eye contact with Ravel, who, though open-mouthed, nodded she was ready.
I hoped to Selene so, because Lunete’s life now depended on timing. Holding three fingers up, I lowered them, one …two …three, and yanked back all my energy from the band.
As I did, I heard a *pop* and Ravela’s energy sphere snapped around the band, before it could reattach itself to Lunete. Yes!
When I withdrew my energy, the red band shrank, small within the sphere.
Ravela clutched the sphere in her palm moving it away from Lunete.
I heard a gasp. But it was neither Marta nor Ravela who made it.
It was Lunete.
Ravela
Palace Infirmary - Lunete’s room
Twilight
“R-ravela?”
I placed the sphere and the hideous spell creation it contained on the ground -I’d deal with it later- and rushed to my sister’s side. Kissing her cheeks, one after the other.
“Lunete?”
She smiled - smiled!!!- and spoke in a whisper.
“Mmmm. Soooo sleepy. Weird dreams.”
I looked at the healer, and then Marta in disbelief, in joy! Kemi backed away from me, moving to the other side of Lunete’s cot. Why? She must know I’d never harm her now; she’s saved my sister!
The midwife stepped to the bed to poke and prod my sister. Checking her pulse; looking into her eyes. She stepped back, smiling.
“Praise Selene, I believe the princess is past any danger, Highness,” Marta said. “I’ve tended patients who’ve awakened from comas before. Her eating should be light at first. And as her muscles have withered some, too, in spite of the stasis she was in, we’ll need to develop an exercise plan for her. We'll have her up and about in no time.”
Yes! Yes! Energy filled me, and not my sorgente energy either. I meant, the actual will and desire to do and act and live again!
“Coma? Who’s been in a coma, hmmm,” Lunete murmured, as she rolled to her side. “And can I please go to my bed? This thing I’m on is like a stiff board!”
“Hahahaha. Of course, love. We’ll move at once! To anywhere you wish!”
I began crying, my first tears in a year. Through tears of joy I looked at the healer.
“Name your reward, Kemi. Riches, lands, title, anything.”
The mysterious creature still wouldn’t make eye contact, but she signed for several moments to Marta.
“She says to be careful with the, er, thing in the sphere, Majesty. If it is freed, it will seek to wrap back around the princess' brain.”
I nodded; I’d determined as much. I had plans for the 'thing' in my sphere. For I knew how to use it to track down its maker, if he or she was nearby. Oh! The things I would do. For casting such spells carried a risk to the caster. One I would exploit.
But that would come later. For now…
“What reward, Kemi, tell me.”
Again she signed for several moments, and again Marta relayed her words.
“She says the healers should be released from your dungeon and Jarlath restored.”
Again I nodded. With Lunete awakened, there was no reason to keep them. Jarlath angered me, for I was certain the drunken fool's dithering worsened Lunete’s condition. But I would reverse my spell as she requested.
“But what do you want, Kemi? Tell me, I command it!”
Her signing message to Marta was short this time.
“Nothing, Majesty; she’s weary, and wants to go home.”
I wanted to wrap Kemi in my arms and tell her how eternally grateful I was for saving Lunete, but I could tell she longed to be away from me. I’d need her to visit regularly to help with Lunete’s recovery, for I trusted her care to no others. But for now, I would honor the little healer’s wishes. For now.
“So be it.”
Kemi
Selene's Hall
Midnight
Somehow even a band poofed into existence. Er, not so much a band, as two lute players and an old woman with an accordion. Still, they were loud, enthusiastic, and mostly on key:
Here's to the bull asleep in the pen
Drink! Drink!
Here's to the cock, asleep with the hens,
Drink! Drink!
Barrels of ale were rolled from a nearby pub, and men and women were drinking, laughing and dancing about the Hall.
For the healers were free and reunited with loved ones and the Princess lived. The first good news in Marissa in a year, and citizens were primed to party.
"Kemi! Kemi! Kemi!"
They kept picking me up and carrying me around. I supposed my days of anonymity were over. I didn’t mind. I was happy to see joy replace their fear and sadness. And I was so relieved to be away from the Palace. And from her.
When I was set back down to earth, I found Myrrine by my side.
"I was so worried when I heard they took you," she shouted into my ear. The roar of the crowd was so loud I barely heard her words.
"If they hadn't let you go, I planned on paying a little visit to the palace myself."
In a lightning fast move, two thin assassin's daggers appeared in her hands and she spun them. Just as quickly, they disappeared to some secret hiding place in her clothes.
When my mouth dropped open, she took advantage of my parted lips and swooped in to kiss me.
'What was that for,' I signed.
"You're a hero! And every hero deserves a kiss. Hope you didn't mind."
I didn't mind.
I signed something else then, and she burst into laughter. You see, several of the healers had been a little too thankful, and had hugged and pawed me more than was comfortable.
"Never fear, oh holy healer of healers hearers...” clearly, she was drunk, "...if they do it again, I'll stab em in the ass."
Ravela
25th day of Winterwane
Palace Dining Hall
Dusk
Hahahaha!
Everyone was peeing in their robes and gowns. They were that scared! For they saw me smiling for the first time in a year, and were certain I planned something spectacularly devious. They were wise; I had planned something.
The feast was small, no more than sixty or seventy guests. The Marossa City Council was well represented, with several council men and women in attendance, as were the heads of the Merchants Guild and the Crafts Guild. Hopefully they'd keep quiet; Ciro mentioned a list of grievances they had that was a mile long, but now was not the time.
Master Reynard of the Healers Guild was absent. I suppose I can forgive him; he’d spent the last several months in my luxurious dungeons and had no desire to return to the Palace anytime soon.
My Guard was present too, obviously. Captain Sechnall had sprinkled a dozen or so of his finest in resplendent red and gold uniforms about the sides of gaily decorated hall. And another half dozen archers behind curtains. He had spent some of the day with Lunete, and for once, his headaches lessened. He was also as eager as I to follow my plan.
Seated in the long table before me, were the Parasian and Arcum Ambassadors and their entourages. I wanted them in front, and not beside me.
Everyone stood, all eyes on me, waiting for me sit. After I did, I motioned for people to eat, and then waived my taster over to sample the first course: stag left in salt for a night, and stuffed chicken.
My taster also sipped my wine, a zesty, fruity vintage from the Anatols. When he nodded his poison free approval, I took a long drink; something about Kemi had put me in the mood for the spicy red.
“Her Majesty is glowing tonight.”
“Why thank you, Ambassador Kijek.”
Normally I ignored pandering and flattery, but tonight? I guessed he was right, because I spoke with Lunete this morning and this afternoon; it was no dream! She even ate a healthy bowl of apples and porridge.
We were well into the second course -two enormous pies, filled with deer, gosling, chickens and pigeons with stuffing made from minced veal, fat, hardboiled eggs, covered with saffron and flavored with cloves- when the question was asked.
“Good Queen, though I hesitate to disrupt this happy affair, I must ask, how fairs your sister? Has Princess Lunete’s condition improved? Our ears hear whispers this is so.”
My smile reappeared at Ambassador Aldana’s query. The real main course can now be served. I stood to address my guests.
“Joyous news, my subjects! Yesterday, through the efforts of a wondrous healer, Princess Lunete regained full consciousness. Her health improves by the hour!” I lifted my wine glass. “To the healer Kemeia of the Anatol Isles!”
Murmurs soon rippled through the hall, as the full import of my words hit home. Ciro reported a spontaneous celebration at Selene's Hall last night, when the healers I released returned there. My announcement confirmed it, and they sprang to their feet, cheering, applauding and toasting “to Kemeia!”
When the applause died and all were seated again to continue the meal, excited murmuring still rippled among the guests over the news. Ambassador Kijek leaned forward, and spoke in a low tone.
“Blessed blessed news! Was this healer able to tell you the nature of the princess’ affliction?”
Perfect! I couldn't have scripted it better. I reached under my table and pulled the sphere which held the binding spell still within. Letting it rest hidden in my palm a few seconds more.
“She was indeed, Ambassador. Someone placed a binding spell on my sister, one which suppressed her consciousness and kept her in a coma. Once the healer removed it, Lunete awakened, and spoke her first words in a year.”
They thought I wouldn’t see it, so quick was the exchange of glances between the two Ambassadors, but I did.
“Wondrous news indeed,” Aldana said. “She must be an exceptional healer! For we in Parasia, who’ve experience in dealing with similar spells practiced by the Arcum Mind Mages, were unaware it was possible to remove the spell, save by the death of the castor.”
“Difficult indeed,” Kijek added. “Though King Gritha condemns such practices, yet still it is practiced in Arcum by rogue mages. No offense; I don’t doubt what Your Majesty has said, this wondrous accomplishment by this healer, yet I too know of no way to remove such a hideous casting.”
“No offense taken, Ambassador.”
I pulled the sphere from under the table for all to see. The energy band pulsed angry red, straining to get free.
“But as you can see, here it is.”
The hall stilled, all eyes were riveted to what I held. I played with the sphere, tossing it up and down.
“You know, spell tracing is the simplest of magics. Even the weakest nique learns the skill and the beginning of his or her first apprentice year.”
“Majesty, perhaps this is not the time or place for this investigation?” Kijek leaned forward further and tried to speak in a low enough tone so only the few around us heard. “Let us enjoy the rest of this sumptuous feast, celebrate the news of Lunete’s recovery, and investigate the spell in the morning when we are fresh, rested and full of determination to find the castor of this horror.”
“But why wait,” I said, smiling again. “None in this room fear should fear such a test?”
I nodded to my captain to stand ready and spoke the words: rusisr sa sil mi'arsus, y sanni'ars suu.”
The red band convulsed and began to spin. I opened my hand; and the sphere floated, as if on a gentle breeze. Traveling slowly, until it stopped. Hovering above Ambassador Kijek’s head.
“Well well.”
With a snarl, he batted it away and jumped to his feet.
“You think you are so clever? You think you’ve won? You’ve lost everything and too stupid to know it.”
"Shut up, you fool," Aldana said in a low tone.
The murmurs in the hall grew loud, ugly, as all now stared at Kijek.
"No, speak freely, dearest friend. We would hear the Ambassador’s confession in full, my people.”
The murmurs hushed, leaving tense silence.
“Go on.”
“Gladly,” Kijek said, and spat. “Think back to a year ago, Ravela. You were feared, and not just by Arcum, but by Parasia and the other kingdoms, too. The young Queen, unparalleled in her sorgente power in all Argentia. Your consort, Cormac, a powerful nique. Leader of an army so devoted, his men would lay down their lives for him. You allied with no one. Were accountable to no one. How long did you think it would be before Amangons launched another war against us using you as the excuse? You threatened the peace of the kingdoms. We couldn't let that happen.”
The crowd's mutterings grew louder as he spoke, especially at the mention of Cormac, because I forbade it. But I motioned for Kijek to continue. Because when he finished, he would never speak again.
“Now, but twelve months later, Wildevale is the pariah among the kingdoms of Argentia. Your Consort mysteriously missing, your army in disarray, and your provinces in open rebellion. And you! Your implosion is the stuff of laughter from Glamorgan Highlands to the gates of the Ysial. I would tell you to fear an invasion, but honestly, who would want this shithole?
“It was child's play to sabotage you. Strike down those whom you most love. Bespell the beloved Lunete. Point the blame to Cormac. And stand back to watch. Now, one year later? Cormac gone. Wildevale, shunned by all the kingdoms, your people, on the edge of rebellion.
“Are you finished?” I asked softly.
“Not quite. Realizing how unstable you were, King Grithra has placed a doom upon you. If I fail to contact my agents within twenty-four hours, it shall be unleashed.”
I snorted; such a pathetic excuse of a threat.
“You shall most certainly not make contact within twenty-four hours, nor even twenty-four years my dearest Kijek.”
“In that case, I have one more thing to do.”
With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw a dagger at me. As did several of his retainers.
Captain Sechnall jumped in front of me, shielding me, taking the dagger strikes for me.
Archers, hidden behind the dining hall curtains, let loose a volley of arrows, striking Kijek and his men so truly, they were dead before their bodies hit the floor.
Yet the binding spell within the sphere did not die completely with Kijek’s passing. No, though faded, it still flickered, and floated softly and slowly, until it hovered over Aldana’s head.
More than Kijek’s magic infused the spell.
Well well well.
End Part 2
Kemeia Ascending - Part 3
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
TG Themes:
Permission:
For once, all is well for the little healer, she escaped the palace and enjoyed a crisis free day. But soon, she is called again to the Palace, where she heals Captain Sechnall incompletely. Angry at what she thought was a violation of Selene's law, Marta forces Kemi's full story from her. Meanwhile, in the morgue that is deep in the Palace dungeon, something festers.
Kemeia Ascending
by armond
Part 3
Kemeía, Greek: the process or act of change, especially from one thing to another, as the change from base metal to gold.
Kemi
25th day of Winterwane
Selene’s Hall
Master Reynard’s office
Dusk
The sun slowly sank below the horizon, casting sparkles over Marossa Bay. An orange, red and pink spring sunset. So pretty.
“Kemi, are you listening?”
I turned away from the window in Master Reynard's office, and lied to Marta, bobbing my head “yes”.
“Mmhm, sure ye are. Come over here with the grownups then. It's your future we're talkin' after all.”
I huffed and moved away from the window to join them. Oh, I'd been listening a teeny bit. Reynard's little speech started with a heartfelt 'I can't begin to thank you enough for saving us', but then drifted to 'what the hells am I going to do with you?'
I hadn't meant to ignore them. It's just ...this was the first day since my change I truly relaxed. No one harming or hunting me. People liked me.
Sure, Marta and I made the rounds; I didn't lounge in bed eating magical elf chocolates. We delivered a big baby boy. Marta did the heavy lifting; and I wiped, swabbed and carried icky stuff away as needed. Fine, I carried away the 'after birth'; Marta would birth kittens herself if she knew I called it ‘icky stuff'. My only healing was a little mending to tears in the mother’s perineum caused by pushing the boy out.
Oh, and I fixed the broken foot of a man who's horse decided to stomp on him when he didn't give him a second carrot. It felt like a holiday.
“Your days of hiding are over,” Reynard said, rising from his desk. He clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing. It was amazing what a hot bath, a night’s sleep in his own bed, and several good meals had done for him. He looked so dignified in his deep green master healer's robe. I’d attended functions with him in my ‘old life’, but never had a chance to speak with him.
If I had known how unbalanced Ravela was, I might have sought out his help. Physical ailments I could heal, but I wondered, what could a healer do for an unwell mind? And one as sick as the Queen's? Maybe if I had known, and tried, my people wouldn’t be suffering under the Ravela today.
“Ah, Kemi, Ravela has been hard on Wildevale.” Reynard said, almost in answer to my thoughts. “The people of this city and kingdom are starved for good news. Already they buzz over what you did at the dock fire, and for the poor lad crushed by that wagon. News will spread like wildfire about what you did for Lunete. What they did to you last night was a tiny taste.”
I shook my head and signed an answer to Marta.
“She says no one knows what she looks like without her hood on, and she’ll stay hidden.”
I would! I wanted nothing to do with this ‘fame.’ Nor revenge for what was done to me, either. I only wanted to live out the rest of my life in solitude, helping and healing those who suffered wherever I could.
“But it’s not so simple, Kemi. Marta has been keeping me apprised of your miraculous healings…”
She’d been sharing intel with the Master Healer? Really? I put my hand on my hip and stared at my mentor. Come to think of it, they seemed awfully chummy. I began to question whether Marta was actually a widow. As if guessing my suspicions, she gave me a half smirk and turned back to Reynard. Hmm.
“…and I feel your sorgente; it is powerful and growing brighter. Even stronger than it was yesterday. I am beginning to wonder if what the people shout is true, that Selene has a mighty purpose for you…”
There are actually times when I’m glad I’ve been made mute. It stops me from saying something nasty or insulting. Mighty purpose? Such bullshit. There is no way I endured what I did at Ravela’s hands for a ‘higher purpose’.
‘I have a purpose for you, my Kemi.’
‘Oh? I suffered Ravela’s cruelty to prepare me for a ‘mighty purpose,’ I asked the voice in my head, the one I was starting to think was more than the insane mutterings of my broken mind. ‘Because if that’s so, it’s utterly cruel!’
‘No! I did not plan what happened to you. Kemi, my love, if my people are to have free will, then I must stand aside and let Fate have her way. It is my harshest burden. Yet I say to you, my cherished Kemeia, grow from your pain. Use it! Connect to others who suffer, to ease their hurt. I cannot remove the misery from the world without removing free will. All I can do is to comfort my people and soften Fate’s blow. For this, I have sent you into the world…
I’d not heard her -the voice- say so much before. And I didn’t want to think about whether what she said was true. I tried to tune it out, and tune back in to what Master Reynard was saying, but I received no relief, for his words echoed hers.
“…some say you may be Selene’s Healer herself, come again to the world! This morning, the High Priestess Varinia stood in this very room and told me her seers proclaim Selene’s Healer is in Marossa here and now! Are you she? Are you the one the prophecies?”
Why, why why? The world ground me up and spit me out, leaving me dead to my family and imprisoned me in this alien body. For gods’ sake, why won’t it leave me alone now? Yes, easing the pain of others felt as balm to my wounded soul, but this crazy ‘holy healer’ stuff? It was too much! I can’t do it. I’m broken. Leave me alone!
My eyes teared, and I didn’t want them to see. So I looked away to the window again. The sun had finally set and the first stars of evening were twinkling.
“Yet what do we know of you? Absolutely nothing,” Reynard continued. “You’ll get questions; hundreds and hundreds. People will beg to know about the wondrous little healer from the isles who carries the power of Selene in her. The Hall would need to protect you. We must... Kemi? Are you crying?”
“-Course she is! Divine healer? Prophecy? Yer throw'in an awful lot at the lass, Master Reynard.” Marta threw a protective arm around me, drawing me close. With her free arm, she wagged a finger at Reynard. “It'd be enough to flummox someone who'd trained in the Hall all her life, but Kemi's barely started her training. Look at the wee one! A puff of wind will sweep her off her feet.”
“An the lass has been through an awful rough patch too.” Marta jumped to her feet. I chuckled; the midwife was just warming up. “Whether she’s Selene’s famed Healer remains to be seen, but I vouch for her. I’ve grown fond of the little rat. Sure, she’s been a mule to get walking down Selene’s Path, but I’ll keep working her, and-”
Master Reynard’s door slammed open and several of the Queen’s Guard rushed in, crowding around me. The panic missing from me all day returned with a vengeance. I knew these guards well, the memories were burned in my soul. Branded.
“You. Healer Kemi. And you, Midwife Coona. You are needed at the palace. Captain Sechnall lies gravely injured. The Queen orders you to come. Now. A carriage waits outside.”
I turned to Marta, my eyes pleading for a rescue, because I did not want to return there, now, or ever.
“Hush your whining, child.” Marta whispered. “It’s simple. A man is suffering. You can heal him. We go.”
She was wrong. It wasn't that simple; every moment around the witch who did this to me was misery. And the man suffering? I suffered more from him than Marta could ever imagine.
But I am a healer.
I went.
Ravela
Palace Infirmary
Night
“Finally! Hurry! He still breathes, but barely.”
My mind still swirled, so hard to think. The spell tracker worked beyond my wildest expectations, yet, in the end, was everything the Arcum vermin said true? That I’ve lost everything? And his threat of some 'doom'. An idle bluff, or something more?
First things first. My Captain sacrificed himself to save me. Part of me wondered why anyone would do that. Even with my obedience spell. It spoke to the character of the man. He must live.
But the Arcum daggers had buried deep into his chest and side. Worse, he became delirious so quickly, I suspected the dagger tips had been dipped in poison, belladonna most likely.
Kemi lowered her hood, and after gazing briefly at Sechnall with a look I couldn’t quite read -fear? Anger? Compassion?- she put her hands next to the worst wound on his chest. I felt her sorgente magic surge into him, fiery hot, and watched, amazed when the wound closed. But still, even after it did, she poured more energy in, hotter and hotter.
“What’s she doing?” I whispered to Marta.
“She’s burning out the poison while, um…” The midwife, placed her hand on Sechnall’s forehead and her eyes widened. “…while keeping his body temperature low. I didn’t even know that was possible!”
“Sorry …so sorry … forgive …didn’t want to…”
Sechnall was mumbling, and squirming on his cot, which I took as a good sign, since he’d grown stone cold before Kemi came.
“She made me …Corm…”
Kemi abruptly yanked her hands off him and backed away; I saw Marta’s expression change when Kemi did. She looked angry. No, pissed.
“Is everything ok?” I asked, uncertain about what was happening.
Kemi made several sign gestures, never once looking at me. She still fears me? Why?
“Mistress Kemi says the wound is healed and poison gone. He’ll be right as rain come morning, Majesty.”
“Good. Excellent. I am more and more impressed by your young healer, Mistress Coona. You shall bring her here daily, yes? Lunete must be monitored regularly. We’ve a midwife who serves in the palace, but I want Kemi.”
Yes, I’d reversed my spell on Jarath, this morning as I promised the girl, and sent him running out of the palace gates as fast as his chubby legs would carry him. Not that he needed any incentive; he couldn’t wait to leave.
What I wanted, what I would have, was Kemi. My enemies struck all I hold dear; she must be close when they strike again.
First I’d need to sort out her fear. I know she can't stand to be in the same room as me, but all that was needed, I think, was to show her I’ve changed. I will no longer be ‘The Mad Queen.’
The more I thought on it, the more I realized Kijek’s words struck me as deeply as his dagger had my captain.
I’d been manipulated so easily. So easily.
Someone. Will. Pay.
And what he said of Cormac? All the evidence implicated him. He betrayed me! The ‘blood gold’ he accepted, the confession of the Arcum spy, telling of their conspiracy to poison Lunete. The truthsayer, catching him in lie after lie after lie. It had been so clear!
Perhaps not so clear? Could I have been wrong? Because, what I did to him..
No. Later.
I would not think of these things. Later. I must talk to the truthsayer again, as I must further ...discuss ...these matters with Ambassador Aldana.
“Begging the Queen’s pardon, but do we have your permission to leave? It’s late, Kemi’s tired, and I have wee ones to feed.”
“What? Oh!”
My mind had wandered. Easily done, with so many balls in the air …relations to rebuild with the City Council and Guilds. A perverted plot to get to the bottom of. Rebellious provinces. And, oh yes, mustn’t forget, Wildevale is on the precipice of war with its neighbors.
“Yes, Mistress Coona, you have our leave.”
Before she could scamper out I intercepted Kemi and grabbed her hands. They were so small and quivered in my grasp.
“Thank you, Kemi. It seems I shall be saying that often.”
My words did nothing to calm her and she never once looked up at me, only nodding.
I stood thinking about it -about her- long after she fled. I had the feeling I’d hurt her terribly, though I could not for the life of me recall how or when.
Kemi
A clearing on the banks of the Muln River
Night
The moment we left the palace gate, Marta grabbed my arm and yanked me along the wooded river path. Where was she taking me? I couldn't break her grip and I couldn't tell her to stop. All I could do was follow. Or get dragged on the ground. We stopped in a clearing, where the dark Muln gently washes by a sandy bank.
“Here. It was here I fished you out one year ago. Tonight, for the first time, you made me wish I hadn’t.”
What? Why would she say that?
I turned my head so she wouldn’t see my hurt, but she was having none of it. She grabbed my face and wrenched it so I looked at hers.
“Cry all you want, it buys no sympathy with me! I don’t care if you have the power to heal the sun and moon and stars, you broke Selene’s promise, to heal any and all in need! You chose not to fully heal the Captain. I saw it! The moment you choose who receives Selene's gift and who does not, you are evil.”
Her words were hornet’s stings. I tried pulling away, but she wouldn’t let me; she gripped tighter and started shaking me.
“Why? What pain did you leave Captain Sechnall with? Who are you to judge him unworthy? Admit it! You chose not to heal him completely.”
It was true. I didn’t heal Devin fully. I could have, but I chose not to. I nodded yes.
Smack
She slapped me not as she did at the docks when I froze. This time she did it to make me feel pain.
Something broke in me.
Again.
I yanked from her grasp, and signed words. Ones I never wanted to say to anyone.
“WHAT?”
I signed them again slowly, my hands clenching into fists between sentences.
“Captain Sechnall raped you?”
I signed more.
“Wait ...wait …all of them? All of who? I don’t understand, Kemi.”
I signed and signed, my words spilling out. Once I started, I couldn’t stop my hands. I would make her understand. I would tell her everything.
She knew the queen changed me, knew I used to be a man. But not who.
I was the Queen’s Consort, Captain Cormac.
The queen and I loved each other. We would marry. Rule as Queen and King. Have children. Grow old together.
We we good together; right for each other. Whenever Ravela drifted into one of her moods, whenever she started acting erratically, I always seemed to balance her, though I wasn't sure how.
Her sorgente was so powerful, and I was a skilled and clever nique. Together, I thought us unstoppable.
I led the Queen’s Guard, and through them, Wildevale’s army. Under my command, were my comrades, my best friends, my lieutenants Sechnall and Malley. We enlisted together. Rose through the ranks side by side. Served in the same unit in the horrible Arcum border skirmishes of 22. We were closer than brothers. And the Guard? Our esprit de corps was unmatched by any other army in Argentia. I loved them all.
The first years after Ravela was crowned were a dream. We were doing so much good for Wildevale! I convinced Ravela to order dozens of projects badly needed throughout the kingdom. To repair and widen the roads, better connecting Marossa with Eldham and Hwen. To upgrade our navy vessels, but our merchant ships too. Wildevale's navy and merchant fleet used to be as respected on the sea as the Glamorgan cavalry was on the land, and I hoped to restore that reputation. And I knew our merchant fleet was a key to the kingdom's prosperity.
It was a heady time, and so exciting. And then we were to be married.
It crashed so quickly it was surreal.
Ravela was stunned when Lunete mysteriously fell into a coma over a year ago. Devastated. She worshiped her little sister; I’d never seen her so enraged. She wasn't thinking right, striking out at everyone. I tried to calm her as I had in the past, but she would have none of it.
Things turned worse. An Arcum spy was captured, who, under interrogation spun a farcical story of me, me! conspiring to poison Lunete. To blackmail Ravela, offering the antidote only if Wildevale allied with Arcum against Parasia. I thought Ravela would laugh off this tale, but she didn’t; something inside her had changed. She stripped me of my rank, and ordered, no, compelled with her spells, my own men to arrest me and throw me in a dungeon cell.
I was in shock. I kept thinking the nightmare must end soon, it must! That the truth would be told and I would be freed. How naive. The night after bags of Arcum gold were 'found' hidden in my quarters, Ravela came to my cell with a truthsayer.
At last! I thought, for truthsayers were incapable of speaking falsehood. She’d see. She’d release me. Except, for each accusation I denied, the sayer said “he lies” in his snively voice. Each time I proclaimed I was innocent, he said ‘he lies.’
‘He lies, he lies, he lies.’
Each time he spoke hammered another nail in my coffin.
The next night, Ravela came alone.
She’d had all the other prisoners removed. When she smiled at me, I knew I was damned; she wasn't my Ravela any longer. She'd become cold and cruel. Reptilian.
She started casting, spell after spell. I shielded as long as I could, but I was a nique against a sorgente, and quickly depleted the power I’d saved.
Then the pain began.
My body twisted inside and out. Bones cracked and reshaped, my skin felt like it melted. Every nerve in my body was on fire. I screamed until I was hoarse. I wept. Begged for mercy. Spoke whatever words I thought she wanted to hear.
‘Your voice bores me,’ she purred, 'and we can't have you spoiling the fun by telling your men who you are.' With another spell, it was gone. Not blocked. Not silenced. My vocal cords were ripped from my throat.
Selene granted me a small mercy then. I passed out from blood loss.
When I woke, I was naked, and changed. I was petite, scrawny, hairless, and
…a woman.
My wrists and ankles were chained to a bed in the Guard barracks.
Ravela sat next to me, smiling her insane grin.
‘Why,’ I mouthed to her. It burned to do even that.
‘You harmed me in every imaginable way, Cormac,' she answered in a sugary voice. 'Poisoned my sister, who lies in a coma from which she may never wake. Betrayed your country for Arcum gold. And you destroyed my heart.'
'Everything. Everything I loved, you took. And I thought, shall I stoop to your level and seek petty revenge? Take all you love?’
‘But no, I am a benevolent queen. I will show mercy. In response to your hate, I show love. I know how you love your men. And now, I will let them love you back. I’ve cast a little love spell on them. On all the Guard. I realize you aren’t the most attractive thing -maybe over time your body could develop more- but to them you are now -mmmmm- irresistible.'
Panic seized me and I yanked hard on my chains. I prayed to any gods or goddesses who could hear to free me, or at least let me die.
When I close my eyes, I still hear her laughter.
‘Fear not, lover. Once you die… sorry, once they fuck you to death, I’ll cast a spell to make them forget. Think of it as my last mercy to you.’
She gave me a long wet kiss on my lips and left.
The following weeks blurred together into never ending torture. I was taken, over and over and over, by my friends, my comrades, raping me again and again and again...
My mind shattered.
All was a blur of pain and humiliation after that, but at last, I think one of them strangled me as he fucked me, and when I blacked out, he must have thought me dead. And threw me into the river with the other garbage.
I stopped signing. My arms fell to my sides.
I turned to face the icy Muln flowing by. I was so weary. The dark memories had escaped the pit I'd stuffed them in and I'd never get them in again. Reynard thought I was 'destined for greatness'? Ha! I was broken in every possible way. I could never be fixed. I wondered if I shouldn’t jump back in the Muln and let the dark river finish the job.
Don't. You. Dare!
Marta slumped to the ground. She reached up and grabbed my arm pulling me down with her. When I looked at her face, I saw wet tear streaks shimmering in the moonlight. And she never cries. Her arms wrapped around me in a fierce hug.
“Gods! … how could she? ….such evil! …that's the most horrible thing I ...Kemi!”
Her sobs dwindled to silence. We sat unmoving for the longest time, listening to the soft whispers of the Muln as she flowed by. Then finally:
“And the first directive of a healer,” she whispered, “is to do no harm.”
I blinked, not expecting those words.
“Ravela's memory block. That's what you didn't heal. You stopped healing Captain Sechnall, not for revenge, but because you thought it would pain him more to remember those memories. I even heard him call to Cormac as you healed him.”
I nodded my head. Yes, of course yes. I learned when I melded with him the spells Ravela placed on him caused him agony, but... you see, Devin has such a true soul, matters were either black or white to him. It would hurt him more to recall the sick twisted things Ravela forced him, forced all of them, to do to me. In a way, Ravela raped them, too.
Marta leaned away from me a space, but still held my hands. When she spoke, her voice was barely above the river's murmur.
“Forgive me, for doubting you, for striking you. I thought in my ignorance, you were abusing the divine gifts Selene has given you. But it turns out, you were following the Healer's Way far more deeply than I ever imagined. I am so sorry and I beg your forgiveness.”
She lowered her head to the ground before me in supplication. I shook my head for her to stop that, and pulled her close to me. She sensed my need and wrapped me in her arms again with her bear strength, absorbing the shudders of my body as I silently sobbed. We sat that way the longest time, she kissing the top of my head and whispering how she'd never doubt me again. And me, soaking up her strength and love.
“You've been living with that inside ye for so long. You've told yourself there was no hope of healing for what happened. But now you've gotten it out, the real healing can begin.
Marta unlocked our hug and leaned a little away, to look at me.
“Are ye sure ye dinnae want revenge? Ah ken ah wid fur sure, lassie.”
Sometimes it took me a few moments to sort through Marta’s thick Glamorgan accent. Someday she’d have to confess her own story to me of how she ended up in Marossa, so far from the wooded highlands of her home on the other side of Argentia.
Revenge? I suppose that would make sense for most, revenge for the horrible way Ravela destroyed my life. But she didn’t just destroy it. She deconstructed it. What should I seek? Justice? Prove my innocence? Force her to reverse her spell? Go back to my old life?
There was no life to go back to.
I knew, in my deepest core, call it my own sorgente nature now, call it my new woman’s intuition, call it whatever you damn well please, I knew there was no going back.
And ...I'd made a different choice. I am a healer.
'You are My healer.'
No, no revenge. What I'd signed to Master Reynard earlier was true; all I wanted was to be left alone to live a quiet life, one where I could bring healing and comfort to others in pain. I signed this to Marta.
“But you've not been living, girl. Only surviving. Always looking over your shoulder. Hiding under your robes, in the shadows, or behind me. Denying what you've become.”
She stroked my unruly hair, tucking strands behind my ear.
“You're a mighty healer now, yes, and maybe you are Her Healer, come again to the world. But a pretty one, too, at least Ravela's spell did that. Or maybe it was your own sorgente's doing once it kicked in after she changed you. I've never heard of such a thing in all the kingdoms, going from nique to sorgente.”
I hadn't either. The only explanation I'd come up with in the year since my change, was I'd have been sorgente if I'd been born a woman.
Marta's voice was gentle, but her embrace tightened. “I was wrong about your healing of the Captain, but I do know this: you must start living again! No, more than that, you must embrace life again. The path to your healing lies there.”
I shook my head. No! Please! No! Why can't everyone leave me alone!
'Yes, Kemi, let go of bitterness and live again.'
'How?' I signed, in frustration. 'How do I 'embrace' life after what she did to me? How?'
“From now on, your training will take a different path. Now we work on you.”
Marta laughed at my questioning look.
“You’re a beautiful young woman, Kemi, it's time you learned what that means.”
Oh no no no.
Kemi
3rd day of Rainmoot
Madame Chinedu's Parlor
Mid-Morning
“For you see, the hips are the pleasure centers of our bodies.”
The woman, Madame Chinedu -she who's garish billboard over her front door proclaimed -Fortunes Told! Mystic Tattoos! Love Spices! Exotic Anatol Dance Lessons! - had her hands on my hips, pushing my hip up on my left side.
“And when you feel connected to your hips when you sit or walk, you’re graceful with no effort at all. And this makes you magically sexy to other people, eh?” The raven haired woman winked at me.
Oh no! No no no! That was so not what I needed.
I’d spent most of the last year hiding in shadows. Pretending I wasn’t what Ravela had turned me into. It worked for a while. Yes, biology periodically made me admit I was a woman, specifically once a month. For the first months after Marta fished me from the Muln, I easily passed as a boy.
Yet when I began to heal people, when my sorgente fired up, something started happening in my body, too. I filled out, became curvy. My hair turned a lustrous black and developed a curly life of its own. Finally even my bulky ugly apprentice robes betrayed me and stopped hiding what I was.
Marta extracted a promise from me to embrace who I now was, yes, but I hadn’t thought that would mean embracing sexy!
“Hahahaha! You look like you just swallowed a bug, Kemi,” Chinedu said, standing back from me. “Now again. Bend your knees, get into Honau Seated Position, raise your hip up on the side -that’s it, good!- Release, back to center into Honau position again. Now squeeze the other hip up and work it, Kemi, work it!”
Well knock me off my feet, I found myself smiling!
This was so different from the old ‘me’! He, -I- would have never gyrated my body this way. Oh, sure, I loved dancing; ballroom dancing with Ravela in better times. But this movement? Getting a sensual swing from my hips? Or learning the seductive saltatus dance? Never!
Yet I was loving it! I figured out pretty quickly the trick to the sway was to always come back to Honau position.
“Now, add the steps, but keep the sway, Kemi…”
This was my third lesson with Chinedu, and already the steps came more easily. It was like I could feel my old male stiffness falling away.
After another hour, our lesson was interrupted when a young boy -seven or so, I guessed- came clattering into Chinedu’s parlor, scratched and bloodied on his arms and legs, and sporting a magnificent black eye. He raced to Chinedu and buried his head in her skirts.
He was dark-skinned like Chinedu, and like me too; I knew she had a son and guessed this was he. Or else strange street urchins ran in to hug her.
“They were teasing you again,” Chinedu asked, her voice a blend of compassion and anger, the way only a mother’s can be.
At first I figured the other boys teased him because of his Anatol coloring, but when he tilted his head up and spoke “yeth,” I saw the problem. The poor little guy had a severe clefted lip.
As Chinedu murmured what comforts she could, I felt my healing energy warm. I could heal injury and illness, but what about deformities?
Oh yes, my healer, deformities too!
I blinked; hearing that voice again. More and more I suspected who she was. Which scared the crap out of me!
Gingerly I approached Chinedu, and tapped her shoulder. When she looked at me wondering what I wanted, I moved my hands just over his body and pantomimed laying them on him.
“Oh!” Understanding showed in her eyes, and she looked down at the boy. “Tamid? This woman is Kemi, and she’s going to make the ouchies go away, right?”
I nodded yes, scratches and bruises, but I planned to do so much more. The boy looked at me with wide almond eyes, waiting for me to speak.
“Kemi’s like you; she has trouble speaking too, only she can’t speak at all.”
I smiled at him, trying to reassure, and then I gently laid my hands on his face. Warmth flowed from me into his little body and he gave a light laugh.
“Hahaha, thap thickles!”
After a few moments, I pulled my hands back and looked to see the results. And smiled.
Tamid’s hand shot to his mouth and he rubbed it. His eyes grew wide.
“Hey!!!!! It’s… Mama! My lip is…”
He ran to the washbasin in the next room and jumped up and down, trying to see what had changed in the mirror.
“She fixed it! I can… speak real good!” Tamid slammed into me as he hugged my waist, nearly knocking me over. “Thanks Kemi! You're the best!”
“Call me donkey mouth will they? Ha! I’m gonna go show my friends!”
Tamid let go of me and scampered out the door of Chinedu's flat, screaming “Hey guys! Look!”
I was smiling, until I saw Chinedu’s face. Filled with a mother's deep gratitude, yes, but there was a gravity I’d not expected.
“You healed him.”
I shrugged. It’s what I do now. Heal, I mean. Well, I shrug a lot, too.
“No. You healed my son! His childhood, his life, will be so much better now without that deformity! I owe you, Kemi.”
I frowned; she sounded almost angry. Why?
“You’ve probably never heard the saying ‘better to find a Nglal's nest than to save a Kuuma's life, have you, Kemi?”
Oh shit! I bobbed my head. I had heard it.
I was one of the few northerners to visit the Anatols, or Cormac was. Several years ago, shortly after her coronation, I'd convinced Ravela to let me lead an official Wildevale delegation to Faylyn Island, the northern most of the Anatols, with hopes of establishing diplomatic relations, and maybe even signing a trade treaty. The local leaders -it was hard to tell what the system of government was- politely and graciously told us neither they nor any other Anatol island wanted anything to do with the mainland kingdoms to the north.
We northerners tended to think of the mysterious isles only in terms of their exotic spices and spicy women. But during the visit, I learned some of the culture of our distant southern neighbors. They'd shown me a Nglal they'd captured and caged. He was weak and injured, which was why they'd been able to capture him. But even so, my local guides fell down laughing when I made the mistake of looking into the man-eating serpent's eyes. The hypnotic compulsion to run to him was so strong! It's how they capture their prey, you see, their meals literally present themselves for eating.
I also learned the people of the isles don't call themselves Anatolans at all; that was a northern mainland name. They called themselves Kuumas.
And, more to the point, a critical Kuumas cultural aspect was they despised being indebted. They thought of it in terms of a soul debt; I never fully grasped the concept. But clearly that was what I'd run into here with Chinedu.
“You do know, don't you Kemi?” Chinedu smiled. It almost seemed evil. “Good. You've been to the isles, I'm thinking?”
I nodded my head warily.
She laughed then, and it was a warm one.
“Never fear, lass. It's just now you're in for a much different treatment than Marta planned.”
I blinked my bewilderment to her, and she smiled.
“You see, Marta paid me to teach you dance. She and I are friends, each living in a city far from our homelands, we were drawn together. And she was my midwife when Tamid was born.”
I nodded. I knew Marta had badgered Master Reynard into approving a “Kemi training fund” from the Healer’s Guild, based on my “special needs”. I didn't know she and Marta were friends. I didn't want to pry, as I knew people from the Anatols loathed speaking of their private lives to strangers. At least I'd known enough not to ask Chinedu about her 'husband'. Another thing I'd learned on my island visit was the idea of 'marriage' simply didn't exist.
“So dance was all it was going to be. But now, after what you did, I'm in your debt.”
I gulped, and she laughed and her eyes glittered and, maybe it was a trick of the early morning light, but they also glowed a little too.
“Be scared Kemi! Oh, I've figured out a little of why Marta wanted you to learn dance and movement. I can tell who you are now is not who you've been. If I had to guess, I'd say you used to be a man, and someone worked deep magic on you.”
I thought about denying it. But maybe she actually did have the Sight and wasn't just another fortune teller scammer. Or maybe I was just so clumsy, that it was the only explanation.
Anyway, I wanted to trust her; my circle of friends was so tiny. So I nodded “yes”.
“Don't you worry, lass. I care not who you were. Who you are, now, I care about a great deal, because you've just given my son a new life. So I can never fully repay you. But if you know anything about the Kuumas, then you know I have a soul debt to you, and must try.”
To refuse, or to try to 'forgive' the debt, I guessed, would be a grave insult. So instead, I nodded 'yes' and started gnawing on my fingernail.
“Here's how it's going to be. Marta has been telling everyone you're from the Anatols which is a lie of course. Except, I'm going to turn the lie into truth. You'll learn dance from me, yes, but that's just the start. You'll learn our language, our culture, our dress, our foods and spices, everything.” Then she leaned close to my ear and hotly whispered, “Even how to make a man or woman moan in sexual ecstasy all night long.”
I doubted I’d ever be attracted to men, especially after the nightmare I'd endured in the dungeon. But to other women? Honestly I'd never thought about it. Chinedu laughed again when my mouth flopped open.
“Monogamy? Sexual orientation? You northerners are so narrow minded.” She took my hand and led me to her 'salon' room of her flat, the room where she applies tattoos. “I'll have you looking like a proper little sexy and sultry Kuumas girl in no time.”
She stopped though, with a questioning look on her face.
“When you healed Tamid, you healed everything except his black eye. Why?”
I wished Marta was here to translate my sign language. This would be a hard concept to pantomime.
I made a circle with my finger around my eye, and then I beat my chest -well, my breasts- and flexed my bicep. And then looked hopefully into her face.
She looked perplexed only for a moment, and then she burst into laughter.
“You left it because it was manly? Because it was a shiner to be proud of?”
I nodded my head, relieved she'd gotten it.
“I'd have never thought of that! It will be good to have a male perspective around the place; it'll do Tamid such good. You'll be his big brother and sister, yes? You are goddess sent for sure, Kemi.”
Two hours later I wandered Marossa’s bustling and noisy market stalls looking for the one that served spicy Anatol kebabs. I was meeting Myrrine at Lalos to grab a quick bite of lunch before Marta and I made our afternoon rounds. Chinedu has ordered me to eat Anatol, or Kuumas, food whenever I could; part of my immersion program. She gave me a letter of introduction and told me to show my new tattoo to Lalo, the stall owner.
Did I say I wandered through the brightly colored booths, displaying goods from Argentia’s farthest corners?
I didn’t. I swayed.
Chinedu had tossed my dull olive robe in her fireplace and burned it before I knew what she was doing! Now I wore a light flowing red dress, embroidered at the hem with gold thread. It seemed sheer too; I swear you could almost see through it to my skin. A wispy sky colored shawl wrapped around me, and bangles jangled from my wrist. Under the bangles on my right wrist, I sported a new tiny white rose tattoo, one that identified me with Chinedu's clan. The way she explained it, it kinda meant I was her niece now, or daughter.
My marching orders were to come to her house early every morning to train and immerse. I suspected it meant cleaning chores too. Ha! We’d see about that!
Oh, one more thing? When I swayed, there were tiny bell chimes. Chinedu fastened a thin belt around my waste that placed small bells over each hip. She told me my homework was to sway as I walked in a way that made the bells chime each step.
Heads turned and eyes followed me as I passed through the brightly lit booths. I even got some catcalls.
I tried not to blush too brightly, thinking instead of Chinedu's words again:
'Work it, Kemi, work it.'
Ravela
Palace – Lunete’s Bedroom
Mid-Morning
“wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”
“Seriously? Don’t get me wrong, Sis. I’m thrilled you’re out of bed, but spinning madly about in your nightgown? You're giving our captain quite a show. Mistress Coona, please tell me this isn’t part of the exercise program you spoke of.”
“Yes, Lunete, don’t overdo it!” Captain Sechnall looked to be on the verge of throwing my sister back into bed. It was cute to see how protective he was of her. His green eyes sparkled whenever they were together and he grimaced less from his headaches. Perhaps I might risk loosening my compulsion spell on him.
“Hummph! Tell these grumps I’m fine Marta.” I laughed when she stuck her tongue out.
“A little spinning won’t kill ye,” Marta said. “but Princess, could ye stop that ruckus for a wee second though, love? I want to see how you’re doin.”
Lunete flopped onto her bed, giggling as she did. Soon, Marta held her wrist to check pulse, peered into her eyes and generally poked her as midwives and physicians do, so I waited for her assessment. But to me she looked flush and healthy. She even had a peach-fuzzy blonde hair sprouting on her head.
“You’re doing well, Princess. Any troubles digesting your meals?”
“I’m sooo sick of porridge. May I pleeeeeease have real food? I’d kill for a baked potato.”
“I take that as a definite ‘no trouble’ then. Yes, I think you’re ready for a little something more.”
“Define, ‘something more’ please, Midwife Coona.”
I stifled a giggle at the captain’s words. Military thinking; so precise and anal! Cormac was the only military man I knew who seemed immune to it. He was such a freethinker.
Cormac!
I blinked to snap my attention back because what he asked was important. I’d need to arrange a regime of tasters to screen her food once it she moved on from porridge.
“Yes, Marta, what should she eat and avoid, and what exercises should she do?”
Marta turned to me then. She regarded me differently now for some reason; her eyes were cool, distant. Maybe I read too much into it, but she seemed …repulsed. I wondered what changed to make her feel this way to me. I shrugged. Maybe someone told her a tale of one of my 'atrocities'. Ciro tells me there are many rumors of my misdeeds circulating among the people.
“Your Majesty. I wager she’s ready for bland foods, boiled vegetables and lightly spiced stews. I’ve made tea mix for vitality; one cup in the morning and one at night. As for exercises, her muscles are fit for more strenuous exercise. Long walks in the palace garden maybe? The spring air and sunlight will work miracles.”
“It’s Kemi who works miracles,” Lunete said. “She did something to my muscles earlier that took all the soreness away. I feel guilty; she should be healing people in real need and not my achy calves.”
“Where is the elusive Kemi?” Captain Sechnall said. “I wanted to see her to say thank you for saving my life.”
And I did too. Wanted to see her. There was something about having her around -even with her apprehension of me- that made me feel good. Balanced.
“Hahaha. She’s the reason I was spinning,” Lunete said, her eyes alight and twinkling. “She had to leave for her lessons.”
“Lessons? Like anatomy or something?”
“Nooo,” Lunete giggled again. “Mistress Coona made her leave to go to a dancing class! She's learning the saltatus! She must show us what she's learned tomorrow, Marta.”
“She'd be mortified, Princess,” Marta answered, alarm showing on her face. “I swear the girl has two left feet. I made her take the class to try to knock a little of her awkwardness out and keep her in touch with her heritage too.”
I blinked several times taking that in. I suppose it made sense; it was a spicy Anatol dance. I was unaware it was taught anywhere but the isles themselves.
Hmm. Dancing. I tried to remember the last ball we'd had in the palace. Well before Lunete fell into her coma, I recalled, the summer before. When Cormac and I danced until well past midnight, and then under twinkling stars, he kissed me...
Cormac! Lover!
My heart ached, and those last memories surfaced again. Of what I'd done to him. Looking back, I felt so removed, as if the person who did those things was completely different from me.
Was he innocent? Had I been wrong?
And if I was, then what I did to him, oh Selene! I used my magic to… to…
“R-ravela?” Lunete asked, her light mood gone. “Are you well? You look so sad!”
“Hmm?” I shook off those doubts and memories. I'd need to come to terms with them someday. And to terms with what was not …right …in me. But not now. Later, after I've pried the full truth from Aldana.
No, not now. Later.
“Maybe a ball is what we need, Sis. In honor of your recovery. Kemi will be invited too; we'll thank her in public for her service to you. ”
“You’ll wear that fancy uniform of yours, won’t you Devin?” My sister’s eyes went all dreamy. “Mmmm.”
The captain blushed, and I resisted looking at his tunic to see if blood was rushing to anywhere other than his face. I was about to tell them to ‘get a room,’ but then had to remind myself we were in her bedroom.
“And you will come with Kemi, Marta,” Lunete said, clapping her hands. “as her sign language interpreter. It is our wish and command.”
“It won't be the best piece o' news she receives,” Marta answered, as she packed her medical tools into her burlap satchel. “I can assure you of that.”
“Your Majesty! Captain! I must speak with you!” Ciro burst into the room, red faced and wheezing. The poor old fool must have run the length of the palace to find us. “We have a *cough* problem.”
“Are we under attack?” Captain Sechnall said, his hand moving to the broad sword sheathed at this belt.
“*cough* No *cough* Yes. I-.”
“Which is it? Out with it, man.” Something seemed wrong with my adviser, something more than being out of breath. His eyes were glassy and his skin was pale and clamy.
“It's the morgue. Ambassador Kijek’s body is ...smoking.”
After he spoke, the aged man crumpled to the floor and began coughing again. Marta ran to him; her hands checking pulse and fever, her eyes scanning and assessing.
“Oh Selene no!”
“What is it, Marta, speak!”
“I've seen this before, when I was a medic in the Glamorgan army.” Marta's hands shook. “In the 2nd Abirav War.”
“The war against King Amangons,” Sechnall asked.
“Yes,” Marta whispered. “When the fell King used disease as a weapon.”
“Amangon's Gift?” Sechnall's eyes widened, and he turned to look at Lunete, worry written on his face.
“Wait! Explain!” I was lost now. “What Gift? What's wrong with Ciro?”
“If I'm not mistaken, and I hope to Selene I am,” Sechnall said, “Mistress Coona believes Ciro has fallen ill with the plague.”
“You are not mistaken,” Marta said, with a voice that sounded like death.
author's note: the story concludes in Part 4
Lilim Tales
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Taxonomy upgrade extras:
Lilim Tales
by Armond
Lilim Tales - Part 1
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
Lilim Tales - Part 1
by Armond
The lilim. They were First Born, and ruled the earth with fabulous biotechnologies, at a time when Cro-Magnon man painted crude figures on cave walls and grunted around campfires. They live among us today in secret, these winged creatures men fear as demons. Aspiring artist Cody Elias is about to learn of their existence in an up close and personal way, when he is recruited by the lilim for a ...hmm ..."special attribute" ...of his DNA. Part 1 of 4.
Lilim Tales
by Armond
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here.
Part 1.
Prologue.
She was dying.
It was not disease or injury that was ending her life; her body was vanishing like the Cheshire Cat, burned away by her energies. After a hundred years with them, her Turn was over.
Still, she looked no older than twenty.
"We knew this day would come. I'm blessed to have been your first. I love you more than life itself. I …I love you too much.”
Luna couldn't answer her; if she said one word, her emotional dam would burst, loosing a flood of tears. So Jayden spoke.
“Are you in pain?”
The golden-skinned girl managed a weak headshake. “Sorry more than anything.”
“Sorry?” Jayden blinked in surprise.
“For the one who follows; I fear Luna will never accept her. And jealous, of the one who follows her. She's the srryn who will care for your hatchlings.”
“No one can take your place, Lori, NO ONE” Luna hissed.
“Dammit, someone better, or you will die,” Lori said. “Promise you'll accept another. Swear it!”
“We will,” Jayden said.
“Let me hear the words, Luna”
“I ...promise.”
“Liar,” Lori moaned. Her body was transparent, more mist than real, but she fought to speak again. “Let me go!”
“NEVER!”
“Take care of her, Jayden. Don't let her destroy herself over this.” Lori's voice was a whisper. “Luna, you know how I feel about you. I'm sorry ...I tried everything I-”
Her lips stilled and her eyes closed. Then, her body blinked into nothing, and faster than eye could follow, a sparkling light flew into the air.
“Gone,” Jayden whispered.
For a century, she was the only srryn they had known. She was everything. How could they carry on without her?
Luna’s screech, long and raw, clawed the night.
1.
He was sketching in his bathroom.
Pastel on paper, to be exact.
He needed to leave soon, to show his oils at Knox Art Gallery's open show, but since he had some spare minutes of uninterrupted silence, and as this was the room in his apartment with a mirror, ergo, his self portrait must be done here.
With the easel in front of the sink, space was tight, and he was forced to stand with one foot on his toilet. Not ideal masterpiece conditions. Yet Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel ceiling in all sorts of pretzel positions, so who was he to complain?
“Okay, you, stop stalling; you have one hour before the showing, you can make a start on this idiocy. Forget who you are. Look at where everything sits on your face ...how much your hair covers your forehead ...the shape of your face.”
That he was giving himself a cheesy pep talk was a bad sign. He had no trouble sketching others, yet when it came to his face, his hand rebelled. It's not as if he had unusual features -olive skin, hazel eyes, black hair- so his problem must signify something psychological.
He couldn't, or wouldn't think about that shit!
“Dammit, hands, do something!”
Minutes dripped away. His cell phone rang. He set his pastel stick down.
“Yeah? …kind of busy, here, Em. What? That again? I'll talk slow and use small words so you get it this time. No ...I ...won't ...lend ...you ...money. Get a job if you want to keep studying with Maya so much...hmm? ...well then, get a third job …what? Aww …poor baby …wait …wait …listen for it…”
Cody hummed few bars of a tune.
“…that’s me playing Paganini’s Violin Sonata No.6 on the world's smallest violin. Honestly, two thousand dollars? Babe, you weren't that good ...hello? Hello?”
He shrugged, put his phone down, and looked at the blank paper again.
“Screw it; I'll do the background.”
Thirty minutes later found Cody still shading dark blue around a blank white oval.
A thought bubbled in his brain - what's the time? He looked at the watch he'd placed on the toilet tank lid; it blinked 6:30.
“SHIT!”
Cody raced to his bedroom and threw on clean pants, socks and a shirt. He jumped into his shoes, grabbed his portfolio carry bag, and sprinted down the stairwell to his Silver Bimmer below.
Batman would have been proud of the way Cody weaved through the city streets to the gallery. The half a dozen drivers he honked at or cut in front of? Not so much.
Dusk. The Beckendorf Tower rooftop.
She landed softly, folding her feathered wings close to her back.
Jayden waited at the other end of the roof to keep his distance. He had to.
They must live this way until they found another srryn; brief encounters only, never too close. They had been a mated couple for a hundred years, but now they could be together for only a few minutes before their psi lust grew. They must tread carefully, or instinct would kick in and they would feed from each other.
And one, or more likely both of them, would die.
For now, they would take their psi by feeding from humans 'in the wild.' Which was risky; humans were much more dangerous these days. And human psi never satisfied. They needed another srryn.
Jayden growled his frustration, then composed himself. “I've found three candidates.”
Luna looked up at the first evening stars and whispered. “No one will replace her. Ever.”
“The others said losing your first was hardest, but we must go on," Jayden answered. “We promised her."
Luna sighed. She could not explain how she really felt without hurting him. How she loved her srryn more than her mate. It would crush him.
“I never believed this day would come. I told myself she would go on forever.”
“She tried. Our little one tried so hard.”
At his speaking of 'little one' Luna sobbed.
“I know, love, I know.” He wished he could hold her in his arms, and wipe away her tears. But he couldn't, not as psi depleted as they were; it would be a suicide. Best to distract her.
“Do you want to hear about the prospects?”
Luna jerked a nod.
“Two from the Aaro line, and the third from the Eliyahu line,” he continued. "We must screen them tomorrow morning.”
"Does it matter whom we choose? After losing Lori, I feel my death flight has begun.”
"Stop that! I'll give you the easy one, Cody Elias."
"A man? A Jh'tiel?” Luna barked a laugh. "The last thing we need is a conversion."
"Agreed, but other than ~that~ complication, he meets the criteria; the Eliyahu blood line is the richest in psi, he's in his twenties, and has no direct living relatives.''
She gave a mechanical nod, but her look of profound desolation moved him past caution. He bounded to her, grabbed her and held her in his arms.
Then, with minds of their own, their tails tips started pulsing blue light, and their psi senses came online.
Extending to the other. Probing.
Drawing energy.
Gasping, she shoved him away.
“Cody …Elias?” she rasped. “Fine. Text me his information.”
She heard the snap of his wings unfurling. “Be careful in your feedings, Jayden.”
She heard his lonely “you too, my love,” echo back as he shot into the dark.
“One babe said they looked 'just like photos'. Her idiot boyfriend wondered why I didn’t just take a picture and Photoshop it to look like a painting.”
Cody wanted to punch his fists through something, but decided Maya Soutine's renowned art studio wasn't the ideal venue for such a cathartic experience. Instead, he flung his hands into the air.
“What's wrong with me, Maya? What the fuck am I doing wrong?” Cody said, waving his arms in wide circles.
Where to start, where to start? The middle-aged woman bit her lower lip to hold back the tart response.
The extent of his self-absorption astonished her; always demanding to be the center of attention. How deep did his egotism run? Did he, for example, wish to be the corpse when he attended a funeral?
“I don't know what to say; your technique is among the best of my students.”
"~Among~? I am your best student. Period. In all media."
He was, technically, one of her top students, she admitted, but his smugness hit her like fingers scraping a chalkboard.
"And yet, others have sold works and you-"
“-can't! Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” Cody said, dropping his head. He had shown his three oils -a still life of irises in a vase, a rocky outcrop on a mountainside, and a migrant worker harvesting corn in the fall- at tonight’s open showing, and no one expressed any interest at all.
Maya felt a guilt twinge for her words. “I know how much you want a 'WOW' painting, but I can't manage to teach you to transfer emotions to canvas.”
“Have I not been trying hard enough? Have I failed to grasp some critical technique or have I been too impatient-”
“-Cody! You have the patience of Job, as far as I can tell,” Maya said, tucking a stray salt and pepper hair strand behind her ear. “But an artist has to be willing to have no limitations, no barriers, and something is obviously blocking your expression.”
“What should I do? How do I break through this?” Cody sounded desperate.
“Are you doing the exercise I suggested?”
“Your self-portrait shit? God, I can't believe I pay you for this new-agey advice.”
Maya shook her head; she was disappointed …in herself, for feeling the slightest guilt about hurting his feelings a moment ago. Amazing! He still hadn't connected the dots about why her other students never came to his showings. The trust fund boy who never worked a day in his life. She had to play nice, though; he'd donated a handsome sum to entice her to take him as a student, and he was one of the few paying full price.
“Yes, how is it coming?”
“It's pointless and stupid to-"
"-Have you even started? I suggested this a month ago."
"I ...can't seem to get going on it. Look, if I paid you an extra couple of bucks, would you look into your magic crystal ball and just tell me what will work? Better yet, check my aura and-”
“-Leave my spirituality out of this!”
Dammit, he'd gotten to her again! She took a deep breath and centered herself. “It's a simple question ...who am I? ...yet artists have used self-portraits to answer it since the Renaissance. I hoped that by making you study your physical appearance, you would also reflect on your personality, your character ...that you would be forced to ask what expression, posture, setting, colors, texture, style, and material ...best translates the real you?”
“It's not happening. It's painful-”
“-It's not supposed to be easy, self discovery never is,” Maya said, and then she shrugged. “But perhaps this is beyond you? Maybe you should think about becoming an Art Historian, or an Art Critic?”
“Wait here; I've got a knife in my car toolbox. I'll get it and let you ram it into my heart. You know, to put me out of my misery?”
“Oh, you're quite the one for drama, aren't you, Cody Elias? A shame we can't bottle that passion and pour it into your paint.”
Luna needed this to be brief, so she and Jayden could get busy choosing between the other candidates and start the srrynah. They were fatally psi, low, and would last but a day or two before they lost control.
Jayden called her minutes ago to download on his second candidate. Beth Ahron was a poster child for selective breeding; Jayden could stand no more than ten minutes with the woman, so how could they contemplate a 100 years with her? What had Jayden said? 'Were Beth to die a senseless horrible death, that tragedy would only be surpassed by the senseless horrible life preceding it.’ No, not promising at all.
Yet she sparkled compared to Deana Aaron, whom Jayden interviewed first. Neither were ideal srryn material, and Luna knew she'd hate them both. The srrynah process worked improvements, but it would take a miracle to make these two -or anyone- a srryn close to Lori's level.
Jayden said their k'jarn readings were dismal, so that wasn't going to help in the decision either.
Ah well, her promise to Lori required her to at least take this last candidate's k'jarn reading, though he was already out of the running. She'd psi cloaked herself in invisibility, and followed Mr. Cody Elias throughout his morning. From her observations, she determined a Jh'tiel conversion to be out of the question.
The term ‘asshole’ sprung to mind, but the word didn't do him justice. He wasn't guilty of kicking puppies and stomping on flowers, that would have been preferable. Instead, Cody traveled through life oblivious to puppies and flowers and anything but the thoughts echoing in his skull.
Today, she watched a homeless person approach him and beg for money. He didn't say no, or lower his eyes to pretend she didn’t exist. No, he didn't see her at all.
Luna judged him to be not an asshole but an assclown; so filled to the brim with himself, and without any just cause.
“Let's get this over with.”
She double-checked her 'human image' projection, and selected a sexier look; Cody was a human male, after all. Her image shimmered, and she pressed the buzzer to his apartment.
The sound of which triggered mutters in Cody, not unlike a certain bell prompted drool in Pavlov's famous pouch.
“Dammit dammit dammit! What idiot is here now?”
He looked at the portrait; he had shaded the background darker, but had gotten no further. He set his pastels on the bathroom floor.
“Coming…”
Cody unlocked the deadbolt and yanked the door open.
“Yeah?”
“Are you Cody Elias?”
“Uh-huh,” his voice softened, “that's me.”
It softened, because before him stood a woman in a black silk pantsuit with legs that stretched forever down to black high-heeled pumps. Once his eyes made that trip, they roamed back up again, to an oval shaped face framed by hair so lustrous black, it reflected the morning sun. Her skin was moon white, accentuating lips red and soft; Cody ached to sketch them.
“Is this a bad time, Mr. Elias?”
Cody looked down, to realize he wore grubby overalls. And nothing else. He reddened.
“Um …I'm an artist, and-” Wait, he had forgotten to ask this angel’s name. “How can I help you Ms-”
“-Longaine. Luna Longaine. I'm a genealogist. I am researching a family called Eliyahu. Your surname is derived from it, and I wonder if you'd mind me asking you some questions?”
Luna Longaine? That sounded like one of Superman's girlfriends. She didn't look like a genealogist, but then, he had never met one, so how would he know? He sighed; he did not want to waste the time to answer questions about stupid parents he never knew, or relatives who always tried to sponge off his trust account. At least she was easy on the eyes.
“Make you a deal; you let me sketch you, and I'll answer your questions.”
“I won't have to be naked, will I?”
“Not unless you want to.”
She smiled. “I doubt you're ready for that. Deal.”
Over the next minutes, she sat in a chair in front of him, and peppered him with questions, while he sketched away. Soon, her questions drifted from family history to art.
“Inspiration? From everywhere. When I start a painting, I try to make it the best painting ever done.”
‘Could this cretin be any more conceited?’ Luna thought. "Any luck?"
"Luck? What do you mean?"
"In painting the 'best one ever'?"
"Uh, no, I'm...” he sighed. "I'm mediocre, I guess. I get criticisms like 'that's nice,' and 'how beautiful.'
A point in his favor was he seemed alive, vibrant; from the way Jayden described Beth and Deana, Luna got the impression they were brain dead.
“You sound frustrated.” Luna said, trying to be patient; all humans were juvenile, this one more than most. It had been easier with Lori; they had been young together.
“I am. I work hard on my technique, but I can't seem to transfer any of what's in here,” he touched his chest, “to the canvass. I want ...I want to express so much ...I can't ...I can't. And I'd give anything to.”
Luna blinked; could this be true? This one was displaying genuine depth, and for the first moment since Lori died, Luna felt an emotion other than sadness, a …spark between them.
“Maybe this comes with time? With patience?”
“Raphael did a self portrait when he was just a teenager living in Urbino. It was a quick sketch, a trifle, yet he showed more feeling than all my paintings combined! A teenager!” Cody was shouting by the time he finished his sentence.
“Lilith, but you've a flare for the dramatic; I'm sure you're exaggerating.”
“No, I'm not, and who's Lilith?”
“Sorry, obscure reference. She was Adam's first wife.”
Cody's forehead wrinkled. “Adam as in biblical Adam and not Adam Sandler, right?”
“Right, in some mythologies she gave birth to beings different from man; the first born of the earth.”
“The first born? What were they called?”
“They are named ‘lilim.’ Sorry, didn't mean to digress.”
“Uh, no problem. Interesting; never heard the story.”
“Hmm, maybe it would help me understand if I saw your work? If it's not too much trouble.”
“Yeah, well, I doubt you're qualified to give a critique, but what the hell,” he answered, and led her from his main studio room to a large walk-in closet.
At least he was honest - his paintings were devoid of feeling. As he gave her his assessment of each painting, she finished her assessment of him:
He was ultra immature; she guessed he could not be more than twenty-five. Besides being self-consumed, she believed he disliked what he was consuming; subconsciously hating his persona. And he projected this loathing to others. Luna guessed this personality knot explained his artistic expression problem, freezing his ability to translate emotion to the canvass.
Even considering his flash of emotional depth a moment ago, she told herself she did not like him. No, more than that, she agreed with his internal assessment; she profoundly disliked him. No way should they risk a Jh'tiel with this screwed up human.
To put this issue 'to bed', it was time to check his k'jarn levels. She reached in her purse and pulled out a long silver chain, on the end of which was a small crystal ball.
“Cool,” he said, “what's it called?”
“A k'jarn,” she answered, and held it next to him.
When she did, the crystal pulsed brilliant emerald light. The glow enthralled him. Luna was wide-eyed as well; his readings were massive, far above anything she had seen. Brighter than Lori's had been.
“Dammit! Jayden will have to see this.”
“Hmm? Who's Jayden?” He looked up from the crystal, to see a sphere of white energy leaving her hands and bellowing toward him.
“Ms. Longaine? What are you-”
The energy sphere enveloped him.
“-doooooooooo….”
It took forever for Cody to say the word, and he never managed to finish the 'ing' before the blackness hit.
“See?” Luna said, holding the crystal jewel over an unconscious Cody; its pulsing green lit the room.
She called Jayden to witness Cody’s k'jarn reading before she wiped his memory. Perhaps they would investigate Cody's family further to see if a less flawed srryn candidate might show the same amazing psi levels.
“Holy Lilith! I've never seen a glow so bright. A level twelve? Higher? We haven’t had a reading like this in thousands of years,” Jayden said, his hands shaking.
Jayden sensed this turn of events was more than coincidence. They were desperate, and soon psi cravings would drive them to feed from humans indiscriminately. Which, in this day of modern human weaponry, would eventually result in their death. Now Lilith sends the richest psi prospect in millennia? He thirsted for the incredible energy this one would produce.
He was certain the Council would agree with what he intended if he put the issue before them, but lilim met but once a year at the Gathering, and his need was now.
Jayden knew what he had to do.
He removed a long red crystal from a satchel he carried.
“Stop! Not the Jh'tira stone!”
Jayden did not hear her, he was laser focused on injecting the Jh'tiel serum into Cody's bloodstream. He touched the stone to Cody's upper arm, and the crystal flared bright.
“NO!” Luna scrambled to him, trying to knock the crystal from his hands.
“What's wrong with you?” Jayden hissed. “Stopping the injection before it's complete could kill him!”
He looked at the crystal in his hand and saw it was clear. He let out a sigh. “Empty, thank Lilith.”
“I do NOT accept this one as our srryn. He is detestable.”
“Too late; the serum is in.”
“How could you do this without asking? I will not be bound to him for the next century! I refuse to suffer his putrid emotions when I feed from his psi.”
“In case you hadn't noticed, we are starving. His potential demanded we change him…”
Jayden he looked on Cody's face, and saw the Jh'tiel working already …softening …smoothing.
“…change her The transformation has begun.”
“I will have nothing to do this pig. Do you hear me? NOTHING!”
“Love, calm down. Your psi is low and you aren't thinking rationally. We will make this one work and she will taste fantastic.”
“A hundred years of heaven with Lori, and now you expect me to suffer this? Better to have a mindless pet than her.”
He blinked. “You ...you can't be serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“You would end our mating over this? End our lives over this?”
Her silence was his answer.
“No! We …we cannot abandon her! This is unprecedented! She could be the strongest srryn in memory.”
He knew Luna had been devastated by Lori's loss, but nothing in their hundred years together had prepared him for this intractableness. Why?
It was unthinkable to cast the poor thing adrift. What if she should fall into the hands of certain human government agencies or private organizations? Humans were not ready for the DNA treasure trove now contained in Cody's genes. Jayden tried an appeal to Luna's sense of compassion.
“You would walk away and expect her to deal with a gender change and heightened sex drive? That's cruel.”
“It was not I who-”
Luna’s words halted as she looked at the transforming girl's face, already more female than male. Her skin tone was darkening from olive to golden black; as disgusting as she had found his personality, Cody’s new srryn features were going to be the opposite. She might become the most erotic srryn Luna had seen.
Luna brushed a hand across Cody’s smooth soft cheek. Would it not be fun to see how she would turn out?
When she caught herself smiling, she jerked her hand back. No! This one could never replace Lori!
Yet …Cody had done nothing to merit this. She didn't stand a chance on her own; Luna foresaw bleak outcomes: suicide, insanity, drug addiction, or limping along in a damaged half-life. If she was lucky enough not to end up as a lab specimen.
She sighed. “I will work with her to ease her transition into something resembling a normal life.”
“But she will be so potent! Who will we turn to now to be our srryn? Beth? Deana? Their psi will be pathetic!”
“Beth or Deana? It matters little. Flip a coin; either will be better than this one.”
“What has this human done to have hardened you so?”
Luna folded her arms. “This is the best I can offer. I will help her with a new identity, make sure she's financially secure, and pay for human counseling. Past that, we pray to Lilith she never fully activates. If she doesn't, then she'll at least age and live as normal female humans do.”
Jayden looked at Cody and shook his head. He reached into his satchel again and withdrew a white crystal.
“We must erase her memory of you. When did you arrive?”
“A little over an hour ago.”
He nodded and rotated the base of the crystal.
“I've set it to four hours, to be safe,” Jayden said. As he touched the tip to Cody's forehead, it camera flashed. When Cody gave a soft moan, Jayden stood.
“When she wakes her first reaction won't be pretty. Leave. Go to Beth and Deana and choose. I will cloak and remain here after she wakes, to determine she isn't inclined to self-harm.”
“You have enough psi to maintain invisibility?”
He nodded; he was painfully low, but if he fed on human females this evening, he should have enough to limp through tomorrow.
Luna walked to Cody's sketchpad. She ripped out the page that held her image and looked at it. It was a good rendition; he had talent.
'No …she has talent,' Luna mentally corrected. She looked down on the small dark beauty, curled on the floor.
“I am sorry. Even you did not deserve this.”
She should be screaming.
Someone or something had fucked her up good. When she woke this morning, she realized a full day had passed for which she had no memory.
Oh, and she was now a she. Yeah, can't forget that little gem.
She should be calling the police, or 911, or a psychiatrist. She should be trying to finger the secret government agency that did this to her, or visitor from Alpha Centauri, or vengeful demon.
She should be doing a lot of things, but instead, she was standing in her bathroom, looking in the mirror…
…and drawing.
2.
“Lilim. Heh heh. Funny name. Lilim.”
Jayden sighed. The c'taia was affecting her at last; it had taken over an hour and a gallon of the potent srryn drug. Now he could attempt to explain the srryn role to her without her screaming murder.
Luna still refused to reverse her position on Cody Elias, and, out of sheer desperation, he agreed to inject Beth Ahron with the srrynah treatment.
The task of indoctrinating Beth had also fallen on him, and he was mangling it. Since Lori's death, Luna spent her time outside of her 'human work' barricaded in Lori's room. Luna swore she could feel Lori’s essence there, and it comforted her. Aside from the danger of their meager psi levels, he now worried for her sanity.
Today, she had promised to check on Cody; perhaps the task would take her mind off its morbid obsession.
“Funny or not, we are the lilim, the first born. We evolved before man.”
The mousy haired woman smacked her lips and giggled. “You look human.”
'So do you,' Jayden thought, 'too human. The srrynah should have darkened you more. Not a good sign.’
“Yes I do. A survival necessity in this age of man. I can appear as anyone you imagine. As Clive Owen, for example…”
His form rippled, his chin clefted, his hair turned curly black, and his eyes shaded green.
“OMG! Can you turn into other people? Like Johnny Depp?”
Jayden nodded, his features shimmered again; chin smoothing, eyes shading brown and the familiar Depp mustache and goatee appeared.
Beth squealed. “Too cool! Is it magic?”
Jayden's 'normal' blonde hair and blue eyes reappeared. “To you it may seem so, but I am projecting an image using an energy that emanates from all living creatures. Completely explainable.”
Beth scrunched her face. “So it's like ...the Force? Star Wars and everything?”
Jayden muttered "Lilith" at Beth's description; she was so childlike.
"Lilith? Who's that?"
"Sorry. It is our -the lilims'- ancient goddess."
"You worship a goddess instead of God?" Beth started to chew on a fingernail. "Won't you go to hell or something?"
"The ancient lilims worshiped Lilith as the Mother Goddess,” Jayden said. "But we don't worship any deity today. When a lilim says 'Lilith,' he is using the word the same way a human might exclaim 'Jesus' or ‘God’ when he is excited."
"Lilim. Lilith. Funny names," Beth snickered.
Jayden rolled his eyes and plowed ahead. “Back to our discussion. We call the energy 'psi,' but yes, think of it as the Force if that helps.”
Beth was silent so long Jayden feared she was passing out from the c'taia dose. The drug was engineered for srryns to turn them pliable and docile, but its side effects included euphoria and drowsiness.
Her head suddenly bobbed up. “Hey! What do you look like without your disguise?”
“You mean without projecting a human image? We are taller than humans, and instead of skin we are covered in a velvet-like fur, gray for males and powder blue for females. Our eyes are large and black, and we have no outer ears. We have long tails tipped at the end by a purple bulb we call a janja, and ... we have wings. We can fly.”
“Oooo, you sound gross and scary. Do you eat people?” Beth scooched away a little.
“Not exactly; I explained this before, and it's why you are here. Long before humans evolved, we lilim were the dominant species. Fifty thousand years ago, we genetically altered our physiology to be able to ingest psi-energy.”
“You eat Force? Is it yummy?”
“Yes, actually.”
Srryns were like wines; the stronger the srryn, the tastier the psi. The psi Lori produced had been divine. He cringed thinking how Beth's would taste.
“How do you eat it? With a straw?”
“Good question. Lilim scientists altered the tips of our tails -our janja- to become a receptor to draw psi energy from other living beings.”
“Receptor?”
“Like an antennae or lightning rod-”
“You got a lightning rod ...up your butt?” Beth giggled.
He had to admit the genetic modification to their species -which represented the height of their technological achievements-sounded absurdly stupid when described this way.
“You see, it draws the psi energy to us, as a magnet. And then we draw it into our bodies.”
Through the touch of a hand, the taste of a tongue, or, most directly, the tail tip.
Beth giggled again. “Kinda makes you sound like energy vampires or something.”
Jayden blinked; her characterization was dead on. He despised this part of their history, all lilim did, loathed that a once noble species gleefully changed themselves into monsters. How proud they were of their knowledge, that they could choose their next evolutionary step.
They called it the Svara, the Altering. They manipulated their bodies genetically to ingest, store, and then control energy.
What vanity! What hubris!
Yes, because of the Svara, the lilim gained 'magic' powers - psychic projection, telekinesis, and similar talents. Also longevity; where once their life span was a hundred years, now it was tripled.
Generations later the true cost of the Svara was learned; the horror. The lilim became dependent on psi; consuming it became a matter of survival, as critical as ingesting vegetable matter, for a lilim drained of psi would die. Worse, they became addicted, needing more and more to fuel their growing power lust.
Soon, drawing psi from lower life forms failed to satisfy the hunger. It was inevitable an instinct to draw psi from other lilim developed. Psi murders became common, one lilim robbing, and draining another of his or her psi. All societal bonds threatened to dissolve, matings screeched to a halt, and birth rates zeroed. A male and female lilim could no longer even kiss for fear of what might follow. The lilim civilization tittered on the brink of extinction. Perhaps they should have died; divine Lilith's retribution for their arrogance.
“Jayden?” Beth said. “You went all blank on me.”
“Sorry. I was thinking about ancient history.”
“I watched some of that once on the history channel, but my fav show is the Bad Girls Club.”
'We have to depend on her for survival? Great Lilith help us,' he thought, but smiled and nodded. “So what do you think so far?”
“Kind of hard to swallow, ya know, but I saw you do that magic face changing stuff, so it must be true. So, um, why did you pick me?”
“Another good question. You come from a family tree we call the Aaro Line -your last name, Ahron- is derived from it- and we have found the people from this line are genetically superior for psi production.”
“Cool! My family is like, the best Force producers? Can I go all Obi Wan?”
“The Eliyahu Line is the best modern line, but Aaro's excellent too.”
“And now since you’ve changed me into a whatchamathing-”
“A srryn.”
“Sr-ryn …right …we'll live together and you'll drink my psi and I'll never have to work a day in my life? And you guys are like Bill Gates rich, right? This setup sounds sweet.”
'Sweet?' he thought, and shook his head again. 'A novel way to describe our convoluted solution to avert annihilation.'
As lilim society disintegrated, lilim scientists frantically turned for help to the next evolving species, man, for humans radiated almost as much psi as lilim. Psi released during human matings produced its purest form; males gave short bursts, but the lilim found that females, if altered, generated rich sustained psi.
Their scientists screened primitive human females for the most promising psi producers, identifying the richest human psi ‘Lines.’ They developed the srrynah, a gene procedure that grafted lilim and a small amount of feline genes into the chosen human female. This resulted in a new hybrid species called srryn; creatures who existed in a near perpetual state of sexual psi producing heat.
Their scientists tinkered with human genetics more radically, for the number of human females from the Lines possessing the necessary psi levels were statistically too low to ensure lilim survival. So they identified human males with exceptional psi potential, and developed the Jh'tiel procedure; a dual serum which rapidly mutated the male to female by altering his chromosomes from XY to XX, in addition to injecting him with the normal srrynah formula.
With the creation of the srryn species, the lilim concept of marriage evolved from couple to trio, for a srryn supplied a lilim couple with the psi needed to prevent them from cannibalizing each other.
It was a solution, true, but a ghastly one. The hyper-sensual lilims became celibate, for sexual intercourse still proved too psi risky for a lilim couple, and conception was only attempted during the end of their marriage, the 'Third Turn'. Lilims learned to convey intimacy indirectly, through their intercourse with and affection for their srryn.
Though they didn't sink into extinction oblivion, lilim numbers still plunged, until now less than a thousand remained, scattered across the globe.
Were they the monsters humans believed them to be? The incubus and succubus nightmares embedded in the Homo sapien psyche? What right did they have to alter another species so? Did survival justify it? Was their crime mitigated by the love and adoration they showered on their srryn?
Jayden shook his head to clear it of their sad pathetic tale. When he glanced at Beth, he found her slumped on the table and snoring. He snaked his janji under the table, up her skirt, and entered her vagina. She gave a slight grunt, but didn't wake.
The psi he pulled from her was diluted and weak; it made him gag.
“Once we ruled the world. Now we sneak rancid table scraps from one whose life revolves around watching the Bad Girl's Club.
We. Are. Doomed.”
3.
“Are these seats taken?”
The young woman looked up from her latte, to see to an oval shaped face framed by lustrous jet-black hair. Her luminous skin and soft red lips made the girl automatically reach for her sketchpad in her backpack. For some weird reason, her hand felt like it had sketched the woman before, but she had no memory of it. A page was missing from her sketchbook, though...
She shook her head, wondering if she was deteriorating into a world of conspiracy theories. After what had happened, why should this surprise her?
“No …it's free …just leaving.”
The girl started to clear her trash when she felt a hand touch hers. An odd warming traveled up her arm, a pleasure tingle, and she looked up again at the woman.
“I was hoping to talk to you. My name is Luna Longaine, and I'm managing editor with Trend Magazine. This is my associate, Meredith Benson; she's my senior editor.”
She hadn't even seen the middle-aged woman; hadn't gotten past Luna's face. Jumping up from her seat, she shook Luna's outstretched hand. It felt softer than expected. Downy. Then she shook Meredith's, which felt normal. Weird.
“Nice to meet you,” she said. “Luna Longaine? That sounds like one of Superman's girl friends.”
Luna cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You know, Lois Lane, Lana Lang.”
“It's a comic book reference,” Meredith explained to Luna.
“Ah, pop culture,” Luna said. “And what might your name be?”
“I'm …Cassandra Albornos.”
It was hard saying that, to speak it naturally, this contrived identity she'd improvised.
After she sketched for three intense hours, and finished a self-portrait that thrilled her, she turned her mind to her impossible predicament. She kept waiting for the dream -or nightmare- to end, and find she was Cody again, but it hadn't happened. It felt like she'd been thrown into a Kafka story, only instead of waking up as a bug, she arose as a 5' 2” golden-haired pixie.
And an exotically skin toned pixie at that. Her near black coloring fell somewhere between Mediterranean and African, but it had a definite gold tint to it, and tiny sparkle flecks too. Very strange indeed.
Her first action had been to carve out short term order, to allow breathing room to figure out how in hell one minute she was a man, and the next a woman.
After a fierce internal debate, she determined she would NOT go to the police or a hospital. She didn't seem in danger of dropping dead -in fact, she felt fantastic- and the last thing she wanted was to be labeled insane, or a freak, or worse, an insane freak.
No, she would handle this on her own. There must be an answer, she figured, because, tabloid headlines aside, bizarre mutations didn't just happen.
Her debit card still worked and she had plenty of cash in the bank. She fired off an email to her landlord saying 'Cody Elias' had taken a one-month artist's grant in Vermont and his cousin, 'Cassandra Albornos', will be apartment sitting.
Coming up with a last name -Albornos- was easy. She had needed something to explain her dark pigment, and luckily, her family history provided it. Two generations up her family tree, a dark skinned Albornos woman had married an Elias. Someone had told her the name was Moorish, but she'd never bothered to investigate; as Cody, she hadn't cared.
Now she thanked God above, because it provided a plausible explanation for how the olive-skinned Cody could have an ebony skinned relative.
As for the name ‘Cassandra’ …well, she couldn’t explain why …it kind of chose her, which seemed weird. But, given the monumental strangeness she already faced, her name choice methodology was the least of her worries.
So food, money, bed to sleep in, internet connection and temporary new identity ...check.
Finally, she mustered the energy to endure a trip to Walmart, to buy jeans, t-shirts, underwear, socks and other basics so she could move about unnoticed in the world of the normal people.
Her next step surprised her; rather than diving into solving her gender changing mystery, she called Maya and begged a meeting. She had to show the self-portrait. She sensed the work was a break through, that held the expression every other piece she had tried lacked.
When she introduced herself as Cody's cousin, Maya almost refused to meet with her. Why?
But Maya relented, and 'Cassandra' was killing time until their meeting. Hence the caffeine imbibing at Starbucks. Which was the most unsettling thing of all, to have this incomprehensible altering of her being, and then to go to Starbucks for the most mundane activity.
“Did you say Albornos?” Luna asked. “An unusual name.”
Luna’s brain spun now; was it coincidence, or did Cody really have Albornos relatives? The name derived from Auhbornae, a legendary srryn Line thought to have died a millennium ago. Could a strain have survived and intertwined with the Eliyahu Line? That would produce …explosive psi results.
“Do you go by Cassie?” Meredith asked.
“S -sure.” She hadn't thought of it, but why not?
“Well, as I was saying, I'm the editor of Trend magazine,” Luna said, and put her hand back on Cassandra’s. Which again spread delicious warmth through the girl’s body; liquid sunshine.
“The rage these days is to push the notion you don't have to be five foot eleven and emaciated to have a beautiful body. Since everyone is rushing to do 'plus-sized' spreads, I wanted to focus on something different. Someone with a smaller frame. You caught my eye.”
“Because I'm a …midget?” Cassandra's forehead wrinkled.
“A midget? Is that how you think of yourself? Darling, you've got a great body, even if you're hiding under grungy clothes.”
Luna was stroking Cassandra's hand now, and it was all Cassandra could do not to let out a low moan. Actually, a soft moan did escape her lips.
“You are slim and busty, at least for your size, and your dark skin is so erotic and flawless. Let's be honest, it's still 'beauty' that sells, and I think you'd be perfect for a 'petite' angle to this. Don't you, Meredith?”
Meredith had no idea where Luna was going with this, but years of working with her enigmatic boss had taught her to roll with the punches. Clearly, this girl came from the same clan as Lori, -Luna’s live-in personal assistant who Luna had abruptly announced was gone- but what tribe produced a complexion that was onyx and gold?
“Absolutely,” the middle-aged woman finally answered. “This is just the angle Trend should take.”
“But I'm a dwarf!”
“Lilith, but you're a drama queen,” Luna said.
“Lilith? Who's Lilith?”
“Sorry, I keep doing that! Just an expression, darling. Anyway, you are not a dwarf!”
“Could have fooled me; I'm shorter than everyone!”
“Five foot, what, two or three is not a dwarf. Stop belittling yourself, no pun intended.”
Cassandra smiled. She couldn't help it; just being near Luna was giving her a buzz.
“Okay, so, what does that mean, you wanting to do something on me?”
“I'm thinking budget chic. Let's see …why don't we take, say, a thousand dollars and see what damage we do? The idea would be to buy a complete wardrobe. Then we'd photo shoot the results.”
“Seriously?”
Was this how things worked in the fashion industry? Cassandra had no idea, not that she had any reason to pay attention to it until yesterday. She had been a girl less than twenty-four hours and was already being approached to do this? The universe most definitely conspired against her.
“What if, you, um don't like what you get, or-”
“The clothes will be yours no matter what, your prize for playing. Are you in?” Luna said, pleased her strategy to guide the poor dear into a semi-normal human existence was bearing fruit.
Cassandra couldn't believe she was considering this! The Powers That Be deal her a gender twisting wildcard and her first reaction is to jump into new clothes? Maybe this explained why she couldn't paint with depth; her own soul's depth was paper thin?
Still, she knew shit about women's fashion, and now a fashion editor was offering to help. Since she couldn't predict when her strange condition would reverse, shouldn't she at least think about it?
No! She needed to solve what had happened to her, and then ...well, she didn't know what followed that, but hoped it involved a quick change back to 'Cody.' What it wouldn't involve was a fashion shoot!
“I'm flattered you asked, but I going to have to say-”
“-Please?” Luna said, and petted Cassandra's hand.
'Mmmm.' Luna drank a mega hit of the girl's psi simply by touch ... -amazing! Delicious!- How much better would it be if she could draw directly through her janja?
Luna's stroking caused Cassandra's eyes to droop to half-mast and the girl struggled to think.
“Um ..wouldn’t I …have to …to sign a …mmm …contract?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Meredith said, “all you have to do is give up your first born, and ink with your blood.”
Cassandra laughed; she allowed herself that. With Luna holding her hand, everything was …wonderful.
“There are some waivers about our use of your image, but I'll tell the suits to dial it down,” Luna said, still caressing Cassandra's hand. “Please Cassandra?”
“I'll …think …think about …ummm …got go to …to …Maya's stu …stu …ohhhh…”
“Studio?” Luna threw a lifeline, since Cassandra was obviously struggling to finish her sentence. “I know of one Maya with a studio - the amazing Maya Soutine- and that's a bit of a drive. You'd better get moving, darling. Sleep on it and give me your answer tomorrow.”
“mmmm-k'ay.
Getting her mind to climb out of its pleasure buzz seemed like tackling Everest. “ummm …where? When?”
“Why don't I meet you here, same time? “
She gave a groggy head bob, grabbed her Walmart bags, and stumbled off to find her car.
“Cassie's adorable and ultra erotic, no question, but a petite spread? What bullshit is this?” Meredith's eyebrow arched as high as an eyebrow could. “You're recruiting her as Lori's replacement!”
Luna frowned. Why had she been stroking Cody?
No, correct that, Cassandra.
Her name floated in Luna's mind. Teasing her was playing with fire; how easily she could have activated! Foolish! Surely her psi depletion explained her actions; she doubted the Jh'tiel conversion could have made Cassandra any less odious than Cody.
“Her? NEVER!” Luna growled. “I'm trying to help her adjust to a sudden ...change of perspective. Nothing more.”
Meredith wasn't buying. “I don't know what your intentions are, or what strange power you have over her, but I swear if you told her to, the girl would have rolled on her back and let you scratch her belly.”
“Meri, you know you are my dearest human friend, but things are happening here beyond your understanding. Don't pry into this.”
‘Her dearest human friend,’ Meredith thought. ‘How amazing to hear those words spoken and not bat an eyelash.’
Six years ago, Meredith discovered Luna was not human, when Luna cured Meredith of breast cancer by touching odd crystals to her chest. Luna's only explanation was to say she was one of the first born, the lilim.
Meredith's research into the term chilled her. She learned Adam had a wife before Eve named Lilith, who ran away from him when he refused to treat her as an equal. After that the legends say she mated with devils, and her children became known as sex demons, called incubus and succubus.
Hard to believe, true, but then, how could she explain her magical healing? So, yes, she owed Luna her life, but had she made a bargain with the devil?
Also, in the years she'd known them, she'd never unraveled the mysterious relationship between Luna, her lover Jayden, and Lori, the dark golden girl Luna called her 'assistant.'
Lori was …well, Meredith wasn't sure what; at times she seemed enslaved to Luna and Jayden, and at other times they worshiped her as a queen. Then, two days ago, Luna mysteriously announced Lori was gone. Was Luna drafting another ‘assistant’? Could she sit back and watch her unfathomable boss do whatever evil she planned to this clueless girl?
“As one with knowledge of what you are, I am bound to warn you: do no harm to Cassandra.”
“A threat? Reeeeally? Going Van Helsing on me, my dear?”
Luna lazily tipped her head and smiled.
“If it makes you feel better, you can chaperone our meet tomorrow. Point of reference, darling, when we chatted with her a minute ago …technically speaking? You were the only human at the table.”
“I love this!” Maya squealed, as she pushed gray bangs away from her face, a habit she did when something grabbed her attention.
“You do?” Cassandra was excited. She'd never seen Maya react like this to her 'Cody' works.
“Oh yeah, everything's fresh; there's a sense of wonder about it. It's like you were seeing yourself for the first time. It's obvious you've had the same training as Cody.” Maya sighed. “I wish you could teach him how to capture something like this. You say he told you to try this?”
“Yeah, um, we’ve had pretty much the same training, though I'm a few years younger, I guess. Cody decided to go away for awhile, and let me stay in his place while he's gone. Before he left, he mentioned your self-portrait suggestion.”
“I bet he's charging you rent,” Maya said. “He'd charge his own mother rent.”
Cassandra studied Maya's face for a clue about why she would say that. Her smile said she was joking, but her eyes were serious.
“No …he's not.”
“Sorry, I was trying to be funny, but it came out a bit harsh. It's curious; you say Cody recommended my exercise to you, yet he's expressed nothing but contempt for it to me.”
“He did?” Cassandra felt her cheeks warm and hoped her darker skin would hide her embarrassment. What had she said to hurt Maya so? Was she so oblivious to other people's feelings? “I'm sorry if ...if he offended you-”
“-Oh dear God, I'm the one who should be sorry; how rude of me.”
“No, s'okay, he and I …well, no one in the family's close to him.”
True; as Cody, she had pushed everyone away. She's thought them jealous of her inheritance, but if she had been treating them the way she apparently treated Maya, well…
“Not surprising,” Maya said. “To answer your original question, yes, I will let you study with me while he's away. I love what you did; I've known you a few minutes, and already like you more than your cousin. You are welcome to take his space in my classes while he's gone.”
Then Maya cocked her head. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I love your skin coloring, the delicious mix of gold and black. …Are you African? Indian?”
“Moorish.”
“Ah. Would you consider posing for our class? I would love to see my students take on you and …oh hell, I want to paint you.”
Cassandra gulped. Models were, of course routine for Maya's classes, and her art teacher’s ongoing challenge was to come up with interesting subjects. Still, first she's ask to do a fashion shoot and now to pose nude? How much more of this absurdness could she take before she broke down into maniacal laughter?
“I …um …don't …uh-”
“-Just a thought.” Then Maya's eyebrows rose. “Speaking of thoughts, let's do an experiment in genetics. Cody's your cousin? I asked him to paint a watercolor of Market Square last month. I wanted him to capture the energy of it, and I thought the medium would facilitate it. Why don't you try it too, and see what you come up with. Then we'll compare.”
Cody's reaction to the Market Square assignment was 'fuck it,' but he did it, and was proud of the results. Yet the painting was panned by Maya and her other students. Cassandra bit back her automatic Cody insult, and tried an approach she'd never used. Politeness.
“Thank you for taking me on, Maya. If the weather's good, I'll start the painting tomorrow.”
Maya smiled. “Hey. We’re having a potluck at my house tonight, with my other students. Seven o'clock. We’ll brainstorm to see how we can help Emilie, another of my students; she's struggling to make ends meet and continue studying with me. You are welcome to come.”
That stung; no one had mentioned this to Cody. Everyone did hate him. She tried to hide the hurt, plastering a smile on her face.
“Thanks. I'll be there, and…”
She paused, racking her brain. Cody would have walked away now -well, he'd never have agreed to go in the first place- and if her old Cody approach rubbed people the wrong way, then maybe doing the opposite would be better?
“…um …shouldn't I …bring something?”
“How about a potato salad dish. We can always use more salads. Can you do that?”
“I've never tried one, but I'll give it a go,” Cassandra answered. “How hard can it be? It's potatoes and …gooey stuff, right?”
Maya laughed. “Don't go to all that trouble. Pop down to Krogers, buy their potato salad, spread it in one of your dishes, sprinkle paprika and bam, everyone's impressed.”
Cassandra nodded; that seemed easy enough. “I'm all over it. Anything else? I mean, I'm driving Cody's car, so if anyone needs a ride…”
“You can't be related to Cody. Or if you are, it's gotta be by marriage,” Maya said. “As a matter of fact, the guest of honor needs a ride. Emilie had to sell her car because she couldn't afford the insurance. Could you pick her up?”
“Yes. Glad too.”
“Great.” Maya took Cassandra's sketchpad and jotted down Emilie's address. Then she looked at Cassandra.
“Honey, don't take this the wrong way, but I hope Cody stays away for a long time. I like you sooo much better.”
Maya’s words echoed in Cassandra’s brain as she drove home. What if 'Cody' did stay away a long time? Like ...forever? What would she do then?
Her hands shook on the steering wheel. For just a moment, darkness descended on her; she was falling into a black hole, and was powerless to turn away.
End Part 1.
Lilim Tales - Part 2
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
Lilim Tales - Part 2
by Armond
Cody, now Cassandra, tries to make sense of her change into an exotic creature with dark gold skin. As she struggles to cope, and searches for answers, she also begins to suspect she is far from 'normal.' The lilims Luna and Jayden continue debating whether to fully ignite Cassandra and take her as their srryn for the next hundred year Turn. And a storm looms on the horizon that may tip the balance.
Author's note: Some readers, both here and at the FM site, have expressed their dislike of how the lilim treat Cassie. I completely understand this; there have been many times I've gotten furious at authors for killing off main characters (Jim Butcher killing off Susan in Dresden Files, and the Sanctuary hacks offing Ashley, for example). This won't happen here. But, this is labeled a horror story; as a wannabe writer, I'm keen to experiment, and I wanted to fiddle around with this genre. I will say, that the horror aspect of the story is limited to parts 1-3. There are no beheadings, slashings or buckets of blood, so what makes this a horror story? For me, there are two aspects that push the story into the 'horror' zone: 1) the unstoppable inevitable nature of what happens to Cassie, and 2) her helplessness. Anyway, enough jawing; on to Part 2.
Author's note 2: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here.
Lilim Tales
by Armond
Part 2.
4.
Cassandra was pacing.
No, that is a spectacularly piss poor description; she was bouncing off the walls.
“So tell me, Ms. Ex-Cody, what are you doing to reverse this curse, hmm? Chatting up the local witch doctor, or making nice with the evil mad scientist who did this? No? What then? Oh yeah, you're going to a potluck~”
She half convinced herself that going to the potluck was doing something. Cassandra was starting to think a karmic curse had ambushed her; had she been cruel to women as Cody, and this was her penance?
Irrational, maybe, but based on the warm way Maya responded, perhaps she should try to redress the other wrongs she had done as Cody.
Shouldn’t I hedge my bets? You know, like putting out cookies for Santa even after you don’t believe in him?
Giving Emilie a ride offered a first opportunity.
Cassandra sat at her desk with Cody's open checkbook and decided to go crazy. Emilie wanted two thousand dollars? Cassandra looked up to her ceiling.
“God? If you're listening? This is me down here, doing good deeds. If you would, like, tell me how many I have to do to get changed back, I'd appreciate it.”
She sighed after the heavens remained silent, and proceeded to write a check for four thousand dollars, signed 'Cody Elias', and stuffed it in an envelope. Then she took a piece of paper and scribbled a note.
I reconsidered. No strings attached. Pay me back when you can.
Sorry for being a jerk.
-Cody
She shook her head. “Not the most sensitive piece of literature, but we does what we can.”
How long before I need to pick up Emilie?
She checked her watch for the time, and realized she didn’t have a timepiece to fit her smaller wrist. Which reminded her; except for the emergency provisions from Walmart, she had nothing to wear tonight.
What do you wear to a potluck? Jeans and a T-shirt should be fine, right?
“Wrong. I must be wrong. I've been wrong about everything else, so I'm wrong about this for sure.”
This meant she needed something else to wear, which, she presumed, hung from a rack at an undiscovered store.
God! Could this get more complex?
She knew shit about fashion. Who would? She remembered Luna's card in her pocket.
“Duh! A fashion editor would.”
Pleasure tingles filled her body at the memory of Luna's hand on hers, and she decided she wanted -no, needed- to hear her voice again. She punched Luna's cell phone numbers into her phone.
“Hello, Ms. Longaine? …hi, um ...Cassandra Albornos here, I met you today at Starbucks?”
Luna's voice sent shivers through her body; what was with this woman?
“...yeah, fine, thanks, listen, stupid question, I'm going to a thing tonight at my art instructor's home and wanted to ask you a question about what I should wear...”
“...hmm? No, nothing fancy; a potluck ...what? ...uh, I'm bringing potato salad...”
-the potato salad! Dammit! Still need to swing by Krogers-
“So would jeans be okay to ...oh ...then …what should I ...wait, let me write this down ...narrow capri pants, turquoise blouse …blouse? You mean a shirt? Huh, if it's a shirt, why didn't you just call it …sorry, what kind of sandals?”
Cassandra blew out a sigh; this was going to be hard.
“…You're calling Sarah? Who is Sar-…no no! Please don't go to any trouble...”
Cassandra could not believe her luck; Luna said she would hook her up with her 'personal shopping assistant' at Lord and Taylor and arranging for an outfit to be ready.
“Great. Thank you sooo much. I guess you noticed I'm fashion challenged, and …what? …uh ...makeup? Crap! Oops, sorry, I've never used it be- ...oh? …she'll take care of that too? Can't thank you en- …hmm? …all part of your nefarious plot to get me to agree to your spread thing? ...ha! Well, evil or not, you are a lifesaver. Thanks again.”
After she clicked off her phone, she stood with eyes closed for a moment, savoring the echoes of Luna's voice. When she opened them, she found her free hand massaged one of her breasts.
“Jesus, is this normal? I know guys fantasize women do this stuff, but they don't, do they? I so need my old body back, before my mind becomes permanently fucked.”
“Hi, I'm Cassandra ...Cody's cousin …and I'm your ride.”
The blond-haired woman in the doorway wasn't frowning, but neither did she smile. Cassandra found it disconcerting to gaze up to Emilie, when she was so used to looking down. Good thing she ditched her jeans, too; Emilie wore a white shirt -correction, blouse - cinched at the waist by a black tie, and a long black skirt embroidered with a white leafy pattern. She looked fabulous.
“I'm Emilie.” She beckoned Cassandra in. “Thanks for the ride; come in for a sec, I've got to get my dish.”
Cassandra stepped into Emilie's tiny flat; not much had changed since Cody slept here a month ago. Cassandra admired how Emilie's décor displayed with her meager budget, but what really made the place work were her art works sprinkled about the room.
Cody always drooled at the way Emilie's works popped. They shared the same passion for art -Cassandra figured this common interest explained why Emilie dated Cody, however brief their relationship had lasted- and Cody's technique was much better. So how did Emilie make her works so alive?
“I ...love your outfit,” Cassandra called. She should say something girl sounding, since she was one now, right? Anyway, Emilie did look amazing. Why hadn't she noticed this before?
A wide grin beamed from Emilie when she returned, revealing her dimples. Cassandra realized she had never brought those out in her as Cody. Emilie set her green bean casserole dish on her breakfast nook table and gave Cassandra a quick scan.
“Capris look adorable on you. Cody never mentioned he had a cousin. You're so much smaller than his is...”
Capris, I am walking around in pants that don't come close to my ankles; too weird! At least they're pants.
“…and so different looking too.”
“Because I'm ...dark?” Emilie couldn't be referring to her gender switch; she couldn't know about that, could she? Unless Cassandra was an epic fail at being a woman, which was a distinct possibility.
Emilie reddened. “Er …I didn't mean anything bad, but your coloring is so amazing.”
“No offense taken. From my Albornos side I am of Moorish ancestry, but I get a little olive tone from the Elias-Lebanese side. So if you mixed those colors on your palette…” Cassandra made a sweeping gesture to her body, “…voila!”
“Yeah! I see now; how cool!”
Cassandra gave an internal relief sigh when Emilie bought the explanation, because the real one would be far harder to swallow. Or she supposed it would, if she understood it herself.
“Speaking of my cousin, he wanted me to give you this.” She handed Emilie the envelope.
Emilie eyed the envelope a moment, acting as if it were radioactive, and then ripped it open. She looked at the check, the note, Cassandra, and then her eyes teared.
“Are you okay?” Cassandra asked. The check was supposed to be a good thing; had she managed to screw this up too?
“Yes …no, I...” Emilie shook her head. “I need this so much; it keeps me studying with Maya for a few more months...”
“But?”
“Cody said terrible things when I asked to borrow this, and though he said 'no strings' in the note, I...” Emilie frowned. “Here you are being kind enough to give a stranger a ride, and she starts unloading her baggage on you.”
“S'okay. If you want to talk ...I'll listen.”
Cassandra so did not want to listen. As Cody, she would run -literally- to escape a situation like this. But …if her sentence was to learn a lesson in this body, then she wanted to gain enlightenment fast so this bizarre curse end.
What shit thing did I say to her?
She racked her brain …had she joked about Emilie …not being a good lay?
“I liked two things about your cousin, his passion for art, and…” Emilie's voice lowered to a whisper “...sex. I ...can't explain ...he had an …um …energy about him, when we were ...ya know …doing it …that felt delicious. But when I asked him to lend me the money, he made me feel …dirty. He as much as called me a prostitute.”
The 'Cody' in her wanted to fist pumped about the 'good in bed' part. She had heard this before; it was a gift Cody possessed, he always left them glowing. Cassandra did not grin though, Emilie's hurt shamed her.
Cassandra looked down. “Maybe he feels bad, and this is his way of apologizing?”
Emilie shook her head. “He's too much of a prick; 'I'm sorry' isn't in his vocabulary. If there were some way for me to turn this down, I would. But he's doubled what I asked. I will have to tell everyone at the potluck about this. They all hate him, and some will I think I …slept with him for this.”
Everyone hates me? Everyone?
She felt hot salty wet form in her eyes. “I'm sorry for what I ...for the way he treated you. I'm-”
“-Hey!” Emilie took her hand and squeezed. “You didn't do this, sweetie. Not your fault.”
“Don't tell them.”
“What?”
“Don't tell anyone tonight.”
“That wouldn't be honest; he's given way more than I need to-”
“-No he hasn't. This gives you, what, a couple of months breathing room? If you live like a Spartan? You need more security than that. You still need as much as anyone else can pitch in too, right?”
She nodded. “I hate being a charity case, but I'm already working two jobs. If I could just sell some paintings…”
Cassandra's brain shifted into overdrive; how would she have given the money as Cody? “Listen, we know Cody would have made a big production of this for the recognition, right?”
“-Yeah,” Emilie said, “which is why I waited until I had no other choice but to ask him.”
“And yet, he gave the check to you this way instead. My opinion -and I know him pretty well- is he wants it to remain anonymous.”
“Really?” Emilie looked hopeful. “I'd love to believe that, but...”
“How about this - don't mention the donation tonight. Tomorrow, I'll call and ask if he wants kudos for this. If he does, you can tell Maya, and she can announce it in class or something.”
“I can live with that.” Emilie gave a huge sigh, and then her dimpled smile returned. “If I could come up with a few thousand more, I'd cut back on the hours of my second job, and paint. Which is why I'm doing all this crap in the first place.”
“Well then, let's go and see what comes from tonight, cause there's potato salad in my car that won't wait much longer.”
Emilie laughed and took Cassandra's hand again. “I just met you, and I feel like were going to be close friends. You've already brought me luck.”
“I hope we will be, because right now, I need a friend more than anything in the world.”
5.
“This is NOT going to work! The srrynah has barely raised her psi levels. Have you tasted her? Bile has better flavor.”
Luna looked up from Lori's journal, her eyes first traveling to the figure by the door, then to the wall clock. She blinked to confirm the time; when had the evening turned to midnight?
Her first reaction was to tell Jayden to leave, but she couldn't; technically, Lori had been his as much as hers. He wasn't peering over her shoulder to look at Lori's journal either; because of their low psi levels, Jayden had only taken one step into Lori's room.
Still the 'Lori-ness' she felt dissipated when he entered her srryn's old chambers and Luna resented it. She knew what he meant, though, for she had fed from Beth; her psi would keep them alive …marginally.
“Try feeding from her longer,” she answered in a dismissive tone. “From what the others say, it is not uncommon to have to draw psi longer from srryns these days; Lori spoiled you.”
The 'others' were their brothers and sisters scattered about the world, and it was true; each generation of srryns grew weaker. Unless something happened to break the cycle, the lilim would fade away.
Jayden's angry face contorted in concentration, and the journal before Luna slammed shut. She blinked in surprise. Not at the telekinetic closing of the book, but that he still possessed enough psi to accomplish it.
“Yet we found one whose levels exceed every living srryn and you refuse to consider her! This goes beyond your personal sorrow. The srryn potential of Cody-”
“Cassandra. Her name is now Cassandra Albornos.”
When she saw Jayden's black oval eyes widen at Cassandra's chosen surname, Luna realized she had failed to inform him of this development.
“I …meant to tell you …but got distracted…”
Jayden wanted to snarl about how his mate's 'Lori pining' was self-destructive, but this news was too huge for that.
“Are you saying Cody-”
“-Cassandra!”
Annoyance tinged her correction; it seemed important he get Cassandra's name right, though she didn't know why.
“My apologies. Are you saying Cassandra is a convergence of the Eliyahu and Auhbornae lines?”
“Possibly. I haven't probed it; my sole interest in her is to help her acquire feminine survival skills. I've created a cover story of a fashion shoot to give me the chance to instruct her and assess where her counseling needs are greatest.”
“Counseling?! A fashion shoot?!!”
Luna had never heard Jayden so agitated. “Well, yes. I felt this approach to be the most discreet and would not arouse her suspicions. She is disoriented, dazed and-”
“-You misunderstand me! This changes everything. We MUST take her as our srryn!”
“I rejected her; how much clearer need I be?”
“No! Bad enough you sentence me to the misery of taking sustenance from the vapid Beth, but now you would deprive our kind of the benefits of this discovery? If the Auhbornae line yet continues, we must influence the coupling of Eliyahu ~and~ Auhbornae descendants to-”
“-You. Will. Not. Force. Her. On. Me!”
She punctuated each word with a small telekinetic boom.
“This goes beyond you! Beyond our mating. I will go to her, tonight, and trigger her heat!”
The image of him activating Cassandra struck Luna as wrong; she couldn't let that happen. So why did she feel so protective? She didn't even like Cassandra, did she?
“Wait …wait …give me …one more day with her.”
“One more day? To do what?”
“To see if…” the words spilled out, “…she might work after all. As my srryn.”
Jayden relaxed; his anger drained away at her statement. He saw dual positives - this situation might force Luna beyond her paralysis over Lori's death, and they would jettison Beth for the psi rich Cassandra.
“Excellent! We can mind wipe the past few days from Beth and she will be none the worse for wear. Actually, if I took the wipe back a few years, it would be doing her a favor. She would do better having nothing in her head than the misinformation she's crammed in her tiny brain.”
“Don't jump to conclusions. Nothing is decided. Just give me tomorrow. Please.”
“Agreed. One more day.”
He would do that, even if it meant remaining psi starved and suffering Beth for another day. He had loved Luna for a hundred years and planned to do so for two hundred more, so he would take this gamble; she must make this decision on her own.
He also knew it wasn't much of a risk; if she didn't, he would take Cassandra himself.
“And this means what to you?”
Luna and Meredith had met Cassandra at Starbucks the next morning and convinced her to walk to their nearby office. Luna preferred the outside venue because a peaceful stroll gave her a chance to observe Cassandra in a relaxed setting. Also, it kept her out of confining human office spaces for that much longer. And, since the predicted storm wasn't due until evening, it gave her a chance to enjoy the brisk autumn day.
When their route took them by the art museum, Cassandra slammed to a halt and could go no further.
She had forgotten the Rembrandt exhibit was in town. It wasn't a debate; Cassandra dragged the women inside, and they now stood in front of Rembrandt's ink of Zacharias and the Angel.
“What's it mean? Proof that God is up there. He guided Rembrandt's hand; nothing else explains this.”
This place was a sanctuary to Cody; why hadn't she come here after her change? Even if some mysterious god or devil forced this on her, he or she couldn't take the beauty from her head - the miracle of Rembrandt and Michelangelo and Monet.
Luna looked at the enraptured girl and smiled. Smiling was a rarity since Lori's passing, and her heaviness lifted for a moment.
Stripped of her original body, and her old inflated 'Cody' ego, Luna found Cassandra to be tolerable. No, more than that, the new Cassandra was sweet.
“One more and I swear we'll go,” Cassandra said, grabbing Luna's hand and pulling her down the museum corridor. She did not know why, but she felt compelled to touch the dark haired elegant woman. “It's one of his last self portraits.”
She stopped them in front of the oil painting, and Luna tasted the psi energy swirling in Cassandra. The girl stared at Rembrandt in his silk cap, and gray bushy hair, and he stared back with his weary eyes.
“Do you see? Do you?” Cassandra sounded like she was crying.
“See what,” Meredith asked.
"He's a lonely old man and he painted it! Here!" Her hand swept to the painting, "his loneliness is here; so fierce! No boundaries, no filters, he just gave himself to the painting. How? God, how I wish I could do that!"
“Uhnnnnn,” Luna said, more moan than whisper. Psi sparkled around Cassandra so brightly, Luna drank it from the ambient air.
Meredith glanced at Luna; she had overheard these same sounds from her boss when Luna and Lori were together, doing ...whatever it was lilim did to their servants.
“Are you okay,” she whispered.
Luna's eyes shot open. Okay? She wanted to take Cassandra with her janja here! Even this 'sipping' could ignite Cassandra's srryn body. Then the heat would start.
“Meredith, we must leave; I've remembered an ...appointment we have, correct?” Luna said, backing away.
“With …Sam?" Meredith struggled to keep pace with her boss' intentions. "About the website revamp?”
"Yesss ...with Sam."
"God, I'm such an idiot; I've delayed you." Cassandra felt horrible for imposing her museum visit on them. “Should I meet you tomorrow at Starbucks again? Or your office? No more diversions, I promise.”
“I'm imagining a more intimate setting, say, we three tonight at my apartment,” Luna said, from a safe distance. Far enough away to prevent her from raping Cassandra in front of the sad eyes of Rembrandt. “We'll discuss it over dinner; I'm thinking Japanese.”
"Dinner? I shouldn't-"
"-Please? Unless you have other plans?"
Other plans? As if!
Her 'other plans' consisted of online gender reversal research. She spent yesterday trolling for information about spontaneous sex changes in fish. Tonight she would dive into the world of secret government agencies and medical experimentation. An offer of sushi sounded light years better. Except ...would that mean they were going to an upscale restaurant?
"Um, I don't have anything dressy to wear, except the stuff Sarah picked out for me last night, and-”
"-Don't worry. I'll have something for you to throw on. I'll send my limo to your place to pick you up."
"L-limo?" This was happening too fast.
“My driver's name is Jayden. Expect him at 7. Shall we, Meredith?”
Luna and Cassandra had exchanged something, but Meredith had not pieced it together, except to see Cassandra's face had the same wanting look Lori wore when she disappeared into Luna's office for a private 'dictation session.' What spell had Luna cast on this poor girl? And how could she help her?
"Perfect, dinner it is; you couldn't keep me away with a gun,” Meredith said, as she and Luna left Cassandra to head for the museum entrance.
Cassandra might have caught an implied threat in Meredith's words, had she not been overwhelmed by a sudden arousal. When she looked down to find she was kneading her breasts again, she dropped her hands in horror.
What is happening to me? I'm ...shit! I think I'm horny!
She scrambled out of the museum and raced back to her apartment, with every intention of taking an icy shower.
Which instead turned out to be hot, lasting a long time, and involved slow slow soaping.
6.
“Ms. Albornos? Your limousine has arrived.”
Crap!
Cassandra pressed the apartment intercom button. “Tell the driver I'm sick and can't come tonight.”
Cassandra hoped her dinner 'engagement' would evaporate. To be truthful, she hadn't thought about it since her return home; hadn't thought about anything. Her mood had turned as dark as the threatening skies that spat cold rain on the city.
Hope of an easy fix for her 'condition' was evaporating. She had scoured the Internet and found nothing to explain her change, much less provide a way to reverse it. Karmic good deeds weren't paying off either. Last night she went to sleep thinking she would awaken in her old Cody body, and in the morning, she arose as the exotic Cassandra.
Cassandra knew it was time to consider other options, such as going to a doctor for tests, or a priest for an exorcism, or …or she didn't know what. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed and pretend it would all go away.
“Ms. Albornos? The driver says he needs you to sign something before he can leave. Can you come down?”
Double crap!
She punched the intercom button this time. “Fine. If that's what it takes to get rid of this asshole, I'll be right down.”
She slipped on her spanking new Walmart running shoes and headed down. Her mood lightened when she reached the lobby and saw him; with his curly blond hair, blue eyes and fit build, he looked more 'surfer dude' than limo driver, despite his crisp black uniform.
“The young miss is feeling unwell?”
Cassandra blinked. The driver's velvet voice warmed her almost the same way Luna's did. What was happening? Had her transformation come with an instant orientation switch from women to men? Because this man made her squirmy, which was Cassandra's short hand for the wet tingly dampness her new anatomy seemed fond of producing. Yet, she lusted after women too; her mind looped Luna's image 24/7 since the moment she laid eyes on the mysterious woman. So this made her …bi? God, what was happening to her?
When she looked into his shimmering blue eyes, her train of thought …derailed. “Yeah …um …don't feel so good … got a …a cold …yeah … so tell Loona …I mean Ms. Longaine …I'm sorry.”
“Ms. Longaine's dinner will be just the medicine; she has ordered takeout from Edo's. A steaming bowl of miso soup will fix you up. Shall we?” He motioned to the door.
“I …uh …don't have my wallet...” -wait, do girls have wallets?- “er …ID …and I left my room unlocked-”
“-No need for money or ID tonight; Ms. Longaine will take care of everything. Ready?”
“…guess so…”
He opened the lobby door, and damned if her traitorous feet did not walk right out. She heard the pop of an umbrella, and looked up to see her surfer dude driver holding it over her head. In front of her stood an enormous black limo, a stretch Ford Excursion. The driver opened the limousine door and Cassandra peered in, blinking at flat screen TVs, a flashing sound system, and gleaming wet bar. It looked bigger than her apartment.
“Good Lord, I’ll get lost back there. Listen, mister-”
“-Call me Jayden.”
“Okay ...look. It's just me here. Wouldn't it make more sense to sit in the front seat with you?”
“Now, none of that. I've already poured you a chardonnay. A special vintage. I'm sure you've been under stress lately; who hasn't? Relax and enjoy.”
She shrugged. Might as well enjoy a moment of luxury; tomorrow I may wake up and find I have been turned into…
NO! She halted the thought; she would not think about tomorrow, because it meant pondering her depressing future. Instead, she climbed into the limo.
True to his word, Cassandra found a glass of white wine waiting on the bar. Cody was a red wine lover, but since she was on a campaign to act polite, she took a swig. It tasted sweeter than a typical chardonnay, but something in it hit her just right. She settled into the plush bench seat as the limo rumbled into the evening traffic.
“We'll arrive in about fifteen minutes; would you like to watch something, Ms. Albornos?”
It took her a moment to remember 'Ms. Albornos' was her. “S'cuse me?”
“On television. Would you like to watch something? The 'Bad Girl's Club' perhaps?”
Bad Girl's Club? What the hell is that?
Cassandra couldn’t concentrate; something in the wine scrambled her thoughts. She took another gulp.
“Um ... could you find a basketball game, maybe ...er, Jason?”
“Jayden, ma'am.”
“Oh, God! I am an idiot. Sorry.”
“Not a problem; it's an unusual name. Would you like NBA or-”
“-College. I don't start watching NBA until the Finals. And try to find a Big 10 game, please? The Big East is overrated.”
“I beg to differ. Perhaps...” Jayden licked his lips to taste the sizzling psi she radiated; he had to get closer to her “...you'd care to sit in the front seat with me after all and defend your novel theory, m'lady.”
'M'lady'. She hiccup laughed. And took another swig of this amazing wine. For some reason, sitting close to him sounded like a fabulous idea. Jayden pulled over, and Cassandra hopped into the front seat, with wine in hand; now more than half empty.
As he motored back into traffic, she mentally sketched his chiseled silhouette, framed against the beaded lights of rain on the window. She found him handsome; Lord, she couldn't deny it; she wanted to run her fingers across his face.
'Steady, he's a guy, and you're a guy ...or were...' she hiccupped again.
“You were explaining your misguided thoughts about the Big East being overrated?'
Huh? Oh ...yeah... all she think about was how much she wanted to touch him.
'C'mon, Cassie, concentrate.' That she had internally referred to herself as Cassie instead of Cody didn't register.
“It's ...an east coast sportswriter conspiracy; they're in love with the Big East. But if you look at the RBI ...I mean the RPI, the Big 10 is butter ...er, better.”
Jayden saw how quickly the c'taia affected Cassandra; the stronger the srryn, the faster the reaction. Slammed described Cassandra's condition; he had given her too much, dammit!
It was difficult driving with her next to him; he was low on psi because of Beth's meager amounts, and the energy rolling off Cassandra tasted divine. He imagined how incredible she would be if he entered her with his janja.
“Are you still feeling sick, Ms. Albornos?”
“I'm Cassie, 'kay?”
“Very well, Cassie, are you feeling better?”
“I'm floating on cluffy flouds; that's awesome wine.”
She had another urge to stroke his hand on the steering wheel; she caught herself reaching for him and pulled back.
“Go ahead, it's okay,” Jayden said, his voice silky smooth. The c'taia, he knew, had suppressed her human inhibitions and srryn tactile instincts were kicking in. Srryns felt most at ease when they were touching their lilim.
Cassandra nodded languidly and laid her hand on his hand; it felt downy. A wave of heated pleasure swamped her body and she moaned. She reddened when she realized what she'd done and started to pull her hand back again, but in a smooth move, Jayden laid his hand over hers, twining their fingers.
“Relax, Cassie. I don't mind at all.”
Holy Lilith! She was electrifying, he wanted more more more! He drew as much psi from her touch as Beth had produced in ten minutes of full entry!
Jayden played a dicey game; Luna had softened toward Cassandra, and he wanted the decision to take the girl to be hers. This was critical to Luna's acceptance of the new srryn. From Luna's assessment, he gathered Cody's personality was abrasive, so to improve the odds, he had c'taia dosed Cassandra to mellow her.
It was touch and go now because she was razor close to igniting into srryna this instant. When that happened, her physiology would permanently shift: she would stop aging.
Cassandra's nerve sensory receptors would reformat to generate sustained carnal heat, and psi. Her vagina, mouth, and anus would act as primary sensory areas, yet her breasts, fingers, and even her skin would stimulate psi pleasure.
Once the shift occurred, Cassandra's new hyper-sexual srryn impulses would override her human instincts and would compel her to serve her lilim.
The temptation Cassandra presented Jayden was not easily resisted. Since Lori's death, he had been perpetually psi drained, and every fiber of his being ached to drink more from her. It was like putting a barrel of ice water in front of a man who had just crawled out of the Sahara, and telling him to look but not drink.
He glanced at Cassandra and saw her eyes glazed and her lips curled up. No, it would not be hard to push this one to srryna at all.
“Now, what were we talking about?”
“T-talking?” Her head buzzed, and all she could think about was the man seated next to her, and Luna.
Luna!
Electricity jolted through her body. She needed something from them, but didn't know what.
“Mmmm. Tell me 'bout her.”
“Her?”
“Looooonaa. Have ...have you worked for her for a long time?”
“Yes, quite long. Her penthouse is on top of that building.”
She saw his finger pointed to the art deco Beckendorf Tower. “Wow. Pricey rent.”
“It would be, if she paid rent. But she owns it, so-”
“-She owns the penthouse? Holy shit!”
“Cassie, I meant she owns the building.”
That brought a dose of sobriety to Cassandra. “I thought she was a fashion magazine editor... for Trend.”
“Oh, she is. Owns the magazine too. And several others.”
“But that means she's a zillionaire! Why does she want to have dinner with me for some stupid 'budget chic' spread? This doesn't make sense.”
“Relax, little one; no need to worry. Drink your wine. You're tired; rest your head on me.”
She brought the glass to her lips without question and drained it. Then she leaned her head against his chest; it felt at home. Before she closed her eyes and drifted away, she murmured,
“What's happening to me?”
“Something amazing, perhaps,” he answered.
Jayden stroked her hair as they drove the final blocks to the building entrance. His mind whirled; what did Luna have against her? Cassandra was bright; next to Beth she seemed like Einstein. Resilient too, as her capacity to carry on alone after her Jh'tiel conversion showed. And …he liked her; she was fun.
Not the firmest basis to enter a hundred year relationship, granted. But they were in a bind; he and Luna were starving. It's not like they could log onto eHarmony and see which srryn matched their personalities.
As it happened, they had tried something like that. Or rather, they had tried to prepare for an ordered transition from Lori to the next srryn. A year ago, they screened dozens of candidates and found Sophia Ellis. Lori had begun a slow srryn indoctrination of the young woman when Sophia was killed in a fiery car crash. Poor Lori had run out of time before she found another replacement. What a shame; coming as she did from the Eliyahu line, Sophia's k'jarn readings were strong.
Nothing like Cassandra's off-the-chart level. She was a throw back to the 'olden days' when srryns' psi levels were far stronger than today, and ba-srryns existed. Maybe the mingling of the Eliyahu and Auhbornae lines had produced something miraculous.
“Thank Lilith she's wearing jeans, or I don't know what I'd have done.”
He knew one truth: if this one ever became theirs, he'd re-implement the 'no pants or panties' rule they had for Lori.
No when this one became theirs; he must not let her get away.
Jayden laid the unconscious girl on Lori's day bed and turned, to answer Luna's arched eyebrow. Before he spoke, he walked to the far side of Lori's bedroom. They were too psi drained to risk close contact.
“I *ahem* grossly underestimated her psi strength and gave her too large a dose.
“I have eyes; the question is why?”
“Because Beth is a small minded cow. Because I thought if you saw Cassie when she was relaxed, you might not find her detestable.”
“Is it your plan to keep her drugged for the next hundred years?”
No, of course not, I-”
“-Ever hear the human saying about gasoline and matches? She easily could have activated! I almost did so today at the museum just by holding her hand, and you dose her up with c'taia?”
“We are psi starving and Cassie's the mother lode! You must reconsider her!”
“I'm keeping an open mind; she's here, isn't she?” Luna said. “When she was looking at the Rembrandts this morning, she showed depth and emotion that …touched me.”
“Excellent! So you could accept this one!”
“No! She will not take Lori's place! No one can!”
Jayden saw his mistake; saw what was happening. His mate's negative reaction to Cassandra had nothing to do with the girl's alleged personality flaws; Luna felt disloyal to Lori by thinking well of another potential srryn. This explained why Luna pushed Beth forward instead; she saw Cassandra as Lori's competition, and Beth as a non-entity. Lori warned him about this; he could not allow it to continue.
“Of course. Yet we have a duty to each other, and to our species, to survive. Do not forget our duty even extends to the humans, for if we are to prevent them from committing our crime, we must be alive when they develop the knowledge and technology to alter themselves. Out of love for you, I have allowed you grieving space, but time is up. You must make the right decision.”
“I …” No. She wouldn't answer him. “The take out should arrive soon and Beth is waiting for you in the guest bedroom; she's watching reality shows. Where will you take her this evening?”
“She's picked a movie; I dread what it will be. At least for two hours, I'll be able to draw psi and not have to listen to her inane babble. I suspect the amount I'll draw will be little more than I could pull from a large buttered popcorn. I shall have to 'supplement' when I return her here. Let it be Cassie I feed from, I'm begging you.”
Luna would have laughed at Jayden's popcorn comment, if it were not true. She had already fed from Beth's small supply this afternoon, and would have enough psi to limp through tomorrow. Which meant little remained for Jayden. As low as he was, there was increasing danger he could not sustain his 'human' projection. If that failed, the risk to his life jumped exponentially.
“Jayden, please be careful.”
“We have an easy fix for this, love, activate Cassandra as our srryn. Here. Tonight.”
7.
Cassandra stretched, and had the bizarre notion she was extending her arms as cats did when they stretched. Then she realized Luna was sitting next to her.
“Ms. Longaine? How did I, um…”
"Get here? Jayden carried you in. You were tired and needed the cat nap."
When Cassandra sat up the room spun a bit. Her head was clearer from the killer wine Jayden had given her, but she still was floating, and felt unaccountably …happy.
She lay on a couch in what looked like a bedroom; a dresser, makeup table, roll top desk, books, and music system filled the rest of the room. Conspicuously missing was a bed; so where did the occupant sleep?
“Who's room is this?”
“Someone dear to me.”
Luna said it so mysteriously, Cassandra expected more, but received silence.
“Um …okay …so since I, uh, passed out, Meredith must be getting pretty hungry waiting for me to-”
Luna waved a dismissive gesture. “The storm has delayed Meredith, so why don't you shower up, and I'll lay clothes out for you,” Luna said, handing her a towel. “Please don't go poking around. I have many private things here; personal memories.”
“Do I stink or something? I don't think I need one; I've already had two today. Two …long …hot …steamy showers."
“Um-hmm, I bet.” Luna gave a knowing smile. “You will like this one even more; it's custom made."
Cassandra sat unmoving long after Luna had left, trying to sort the thoughts pinging in her head.
Why am I here? Mere days after being gender twisted and I’m in a strange woman's penthouse -no, scratch that, building- contemplating a shower? And why do I get so damned horny around Luna and Jayden?
She sighed, wandered in the bathroom, and decided she would shower, when she saw the seven or more showerheads, positioned all around a huge granite walled shower chamber. Cassandra took the longest steamiest shower of her life.
When she emerged, she found Luna had left her a floor length black silk robe, with a silver flower embroidered on the back, black rectangle shaped flat wooden sandals, and nothing else.
“Ms. Longaine? Where are my clothes?” She called out of the bathroom.
“Folded on the sofa, darling,” Luna called back. “The food is here. Throw on the robe on and come out. Don't worry; it's just us girls.”
Not wanting to be rude -and still feeling bubbly from the wine- she shrugged, slipped on the robe and cinched it. With golden hair still glistening wet, she hobbled out in the strange flat sandals.
She found Luna sitting on her living room floor in front of a coffee table overflowing with takeout boxes. Cassandra breathed scents of miso soup and teriyaki, and realized she was ravenous. She klopped across the floor to the table, stepped off the sandals and sat on her knees.
Luna's eyes roamed up and down Cassandra's silken form. Her dark srryn beauty was exquisite. Was her first impression wrong? Could she have fun with this one? Even if that were possible, it was unimaginable to think of having the soul connection she had had with Lori. Theirs was lesbian by human standards, a rarity between lilim and srryn. She suspected she and Cassandra would develop a traditional lilim-srryn mentor relationship.
Still, the psi potential of the bright-eyed creature before her was enormous and would provide all the energy they needed over her hundred year Turn. She was so new to her gender; Luna imagined having several years of fun using her as a living dress up doll, and sending her into complicated human mating situations.
“Like the kimono and getas? Very traditional.”
“Haven't you carried the 'doing Japanese' thing a bit far? What would I be wearing if you'd ordered Mexican?”
“Something flamenco maybe, with castanets; or is that Spanish? We will do that next time. Have some sushi.”
Luna handed Cassandra a blue porcelain fish shaped plate; on it were a variety of sushi rolls, a smaller fish shaped dish with soy sauce, a dab of wasabi, and chop sticks.
“You'll love Edo's spicy tuna rolls. Watch the volcano roll, it is well named.” Luna then laid her palms on the coffee table. “Bad news. I received a text from Meredith and she's been delayed further; she said to start without her.”
Which was untrue; she had uninvited her editor from dinner this afternoon. Meredith had issued several dire warnings about not harming Cassandra, so she also alerted security that Ms. Benson was not allowed in the building tonight.
“Good Lord, Ms. Longaine; no way we can eat all this!”
“Don't worry, Jayden will gobble up whatever we don't.” Luna smiled at Cassandra. “And stop calling me 'Ms. Longaine.' I'm Luna. Let me hear you say it.”
“Looona.”
She smiled; it felt good rolling off her tongue. Warm.
“Excellent, now that's settled, let's talk. I do not mean to be forward, but I've noticed you are struggling with personal issues. How can I help?”
Cassandra's eyes widened; was it so obvious that a relative stranger pick it out?
I must suck at being female.
“Yeah, I've been going through some …changes, and feel lost. I doubt there's anything you can do, other than help me avoid fashion disasters.”
“You are reluctant to tell me what has happened. Fair enough. Perhaps I can help you deal with it?” She poured more green tea into Cassandra's cup. “Without being specific, can you give me an idea of what you've experienced?”
Cassandra sipped on her tea and thought, struggling to come up with an example that would help, but wouldn't make Luna think she was insane
“Suppose …you weighed, like, umm …500 pounds, all your life, then magically, you wake up one morning weighing 105. Suppose you've changed so much no one recognizes you.”
“Hmm. So, you suddenly find you are a beautiful young woman. And you've never lived that life before? You'd lack the social skills, experience, basic wardrobe-”
“-Yes. Don't know about the beautiful part, but think of me dealing with a change like that.”
“But Cassandra, you are beautiful and erotic. So, a life altering change has happened; what has been the hardest part it? Is it what I just mentioned or-”
Cassandra shook her head. “Yeah, I am clueless about the social stuff, but what's been hardest, is learning what people thought of the old me. People hated me; I must have been shitty to everyone.”
Her eyes grew wet. “I need to figure this out, because tomorrow -hopefully- I'll wake up to find …I'm fat again …and I don't want to go back to being the asshole I was.”
Luna's eyes widened; Cassandra's confession was disarming, and against her will, she was warming to the girl. Then a surge of self-loathing washed over her, thoughts of how she was betraying Lori. Her eyes narrowed, and her voice took on a hard edge.
“If you don't return to your old form, what of it? You remain 'stuck' as beautiful young woman? Many would find it easy to deal with a body as incredible as yours.”
Cassandra frowned; she had avoided thinking about the possibility this cosmic joke might be permanent. But what if it was?
“Yeah …I guess I'd want to make sure I didn't turn into a …skinny asshole.” Cassandra started fidgeting now. “Um, can I be excused to use the bathroom? Since I …lost weight …my bladder seems to have shrunk as well, and the green tea has already-”
“-of course. Use the bathroom you showered in.”
After Cassandra finished in the bathroom, and was walking back through the bedroom, she felt a tug at her mind. Something pulled her to the roll top desk against the wall.
'Weird.' Cassandra shook her head to clear it, and started for the door again.
Once again, an impulse, almost a voice, urged her to the desk.
Half dazed, the other half curious, Cassandra crept to the desk and rolled up the top. There she found an old worn journal. Flipping open the cover, she read the yellowed cursive inscription,
'This journal is the property of Lorraine Cynthia Aaren. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT ME! I MEAN IT!!!' ”
Cassandra chuckled at the adolescent warning from the past and closed the journal. “Right. I am properly warned. So, I shouldn't-”
*READ!*
This time it ~was~ a voice in her head, she was sure! Where was it coming from? Cassandra's hands were shaking, but she reopened the journal, and read the first sentences.
Cleveland, April 29, 1910
My fellow Clevelanders believe Haley's Comet has returned to destroy the world, or at least to signal the apocalypse. Goodness!
They fret every morning when they wake and see it on the horizon. But I know the comet's return was a message just for me.
For it was after it appeared I learned of the lilim, and became the first srryn of Luana and Jaide Lundquist.
Who? Luana and Jaide? That sounded incredibly close to Luna and Jayden. Coincidence, right? No way they be the same; Luna and Jayden looked like they were barely in their thirties.
“And what's a lilim? Or a srryn?”
*Luna is a lilim, and I was her srryn.*
Cassandra shook her head again, this time hard, as if she were clearing water from her ears. Maybe the stress of a sudden gender change had finally caused her to crack.
*Srryn, may I share your body?*
“What?”
*Please say yes. The other refused.*
“I'm dressed in a kimono, in a strange woman's apartment, listening to a voice in my head. Fucking great. Was it two days ago I was Cody Elias? Seems like two centuries.”
*If you say no, I will fade. I'm scared. Don't let me die.*
Cassandra hadn't a clue whether she imagined this, or what it meant. On an impulse, she held her hand out to touch the entity. It took her a moment to realize the feedback she received was the same sensation she experienced when she viewed masterpieces.
The debate may rage for the next thousand years over what people experience by viewing a 'masterpiece'. It is a mystery - one man's capacity to receive another's deepest emotions simply by looking at colors on a canvas. Was it divine? Psychological? Chemical?
Whatever the answer, Cassandra was overcome with ecstasy when she gazed at Rubens' Massacre of the Innocents, or Renoir's Bal Au Moulin de la Galette. Or any work by Monet. They beamed her out of the mundane and into a place she had no name for.
It made no sense, but this was what she felt from the pleading voice. What did it mean? Cassandra had no clue, other than thinking, knowing, she must not let this essence fade.
Without the slightest understanding of what she was doing, she performed the first unselfish act of her life.
“ 'kay …come into me.”
*Thank you!*
Cassandra have sworn she felt energy filter into her and anchor deep within.
Then, a real voice sliced through the moment.
“WHAT are you doing at her desk?”
Cassandra turned to find Luna standing in the doorway.
“Sorry. Strangest thing …a voice told me to come here and look at a diary. Then it asked me-”
“She's gone! I …I don't feel her anymore.”
“What's gone? Feel who?”
“What have you done?” The 'Lori' essence of the room had vanished and it felt like her love had died a second time. Despair knife-gutted Luna, followed by rage.
“You murderer! You have driven her away!”
“You're crazier than me! No one is here, except this voice I was-”
Luna raised her hands, and the journal slapped closed, followed by the desktop rolling shut.
“Hey! How did you-
Her words strangled in her mouth, because Luna's image blurred, and she traversed the distance between them in an instant to grab a fistful of Cassandra's gold hair. She drug the yelping girl through the penthouse halls, opened her front door, and tossed her out.
“What a fool I was to think you redeemable. Go! Live whatever miserable existence you can. Better yet, do the world a favor; crawl in a hole and die, 'Cassandra who was Cody'.”
Cassandra blinked as the statement sunk in.
“You …know who I used to be? Wait …did you have anything to do with it? With my-”
“-Oh no! Not me! I wanted nothing to do with you, you miserable piece of excrement. No, Jayden, in his rashness, injected you with the Jh'tiel serum.”
Cassandra tried to grab Luna's silk blouse, but ended touching something downy instead.
“Change me back. Whatever the hell he did, undo it. Now!”
Luna batted Cassandra's hands away. “At first I felt sorry for you, but now? You are not fit to be bound to a lilim. Be gone! Forever!”
She slammed the door in Cassandra's face.
Cassandra stood open-mouthed for several minutes. They did this to her? How? Why?
She needed answers, and pounded on Luna's door again. And again. And again until, ten minutes later, security arrived, to escort -translate: throw- her out.
Cassandra leaned against the granite sides of Beckendorf Tower, trying to stay out of the cold rain, though wetness already flowed down her cheeks. What had she done to deserve this? The response she received was a faraway lightning flash and a thunder roll.
Nothing made sense. What would she do now? How would she even get home? She had no ID, no money. She didn't even have her clothes!
Her back stiffened. “Fuck Luna! Fuck everyone!” She'd walk back -barefoot and in this ridiculous kimono- if it came down to it.
The universe wasn't entirely against her; she hailed a cab and convinced the driver she was good for the fare. As they drove, she noticed the man spending a lot of time peering into his rear view mirror. What the hell was he looking at?
After a moment she realized what - an exotic young woman, wearing a silk kimono, made clingy by the rain.
'Fuck him too!' she thought. Things would be different now she had some answers, dammit. Now she ... Well, what could she do?
'C'mon, Cassie, think!'
She free associated; she : find someone with Mob connections and put out a hit on Luna, or ...give the GPS coordinates to the military so they can lob a smart bomb on her penthouse ...or ...or ...sick the Jehovah's Witnesses on Luna's ass until she agreed to change her back to Cody.
Cassandra sighed. Her realistic options seemed sparse, but still, she now had something more concrete than a feeling the stars were punishing her. She knew who changed her. Since they changed her, they could change her back. She just had to figure out how to make them do it.
She had another research assignment to plow into too:
lilim.
“Luna? I misspoke.”
Jayden's voice boomed down the penthouse hallway. “I drew more psi from the buttered popcorn than from Beth.”
High spirits buoyed Jayden, despite an impressive list of reasons to be in a mood as foul as the weather:
He was near psi empty and had been so since Lori's passing. He had endured two hours with the bland -no, flavorless- Beth and suffered through an insipid vampire movie. Beth had then ordered him to assume the likeness of Robert Pattinson and affect a British accent the entire limo ride home. Finally, the violent storm now striking the city would inhibit his flying, and Jayden craved his time in the air; all lilim did.
Yet he was giddy as he roamed their halls, for he knew a powerful and activated srryn must await him. Since his sips from Cassandra in the limo, he had thought of nothing else. At last he understood what humans felt when they craved a big juicy steak. Lilims subsisted on a diet of vegetables and psi, but the thought of Cassandra made him lick his lips.
“Luna? Where are you?”
He guessed the answer, and headed to Lori's room, where he found her hunched over Lori's desk and crying.
“Where is she?”
“Gone. Lori's truly gone.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Her essence. I've sensed Lori in here every day since her death, until that horrid beast came in. She killed her!”
Jayden shook his head; even Luna's borderline madness would not dampen his humor. “I'll have Maintenance check the filtration system first thing tomorrow.”
It was Luna's turn to be perplexed. “Filtration? I don't understand.”
“Insanity must be in the air. Earlier, Beth came whining to me about a voice talking to her in here. She babbled something about it wanting to enter her.”
“She came in here? My orders were explicit; that simpering fool was not to set foot in this room.”
“Her pea-sized brain is easily bored and she wandered in. Nothing was harmed, I'm sure. Few of Lori's books are illustrated, so I doubt she touched them. Something scared her though, because she came screaming to me; she thought something tried to possess her.”
“Then if Beth was in here, it might not have been Cassandra at all!”
At the mention of her name, Jayden's psi lust reasserted. “Speaking of Cassie, where is our new srryn? I must feed.”
Before Luna answered, a huge thunder rumble clattered the tower. Jayden peered out the window to the lightning display on the horizon.
“The main storm cell has hit at last; no flying tonight. Ah well. Where is she?”
“I...” A lightning flash flickered the lights, and the windows shook again with a booming. “...sent her away.”
“You WHAT?”
“I threw her out, because I thought she caused Lori's essence to disappear.”
“Threw …her …out…into …the …storm?”
Jayden snapped. The stress from Lori's death, his own meager psi levels, and now Luna's unbalanced behavior overwhelmed him.
He resisted his first urge, to leap on his mate and drain her of psi. Past that, feral need ruled and he raced out the door to their roof stairway. His mind's last cogent thought was to recall Cody Elias' address. Then, pure hunger drove him to leap into the storm. A voice called from below for him to stop, but he couldn't. One goal burned his mind - find Cassandra and drink from her.
Jayden did not get far. Thirty seconds into his frenzied flight, a micro-burst from the storm slammed him into a nearby building window and punctured the place where his black wing membrane attached to his metacarpal bone. The pain shot adrenaline into his body, temporarily replacing his psi lust, and his mind cleared enough for him to see his situation.
He was airborne still, but losing altitude. Landing was not an option, because he was completely psi drained and unable to project a human likeness.
Banking into the wind hard, he used his good wing to turn and head for their tower. Though lashed by wind and rain, he fought to close the distance. His point of reference was a gargoyle corner of the tower, lit by the strobe lightning flashes.
Though the pain from his damaged wing threatened to drag him into unconsciousness, he fought on, and, was relieved when a lightning flash revealed he had closed the distance to twenty yards. Then he heard a tearing sound, and new pain rocketed to his brain, bringing blackness.
Luna watched in horror as Jayden entered an uncontrolled spiral. She raced to where she thought he might land to try to catch him, but the tip of his good wing clipped a gargoyle figurine, sending Jayden spinning into a utility duct with a sickening crunch.
She scooped her broken and bleeding mate in her arms and bounded down the stairs to their bedroom, where she laid him on their bed.
His breaths came in shallow rasps. Death was upon him; a lilim senses these things. She grew frantic; she had lost Lori, she could not lose Jayden!
Psi. He needed a large psi dose. With enough of the energy, lilim recovered from the most gruesome of injuries.
Luna dashed to the guest bedroom and dragged Beth from her facebook chatting.
“But ...he has already stuck his thingy in me and I'm tired,” Beth bleated.
“He's hurt,” Luna growled. “You will give him all the psi you can.”
The moment she pulled the girl into the bedroom Luna realized her mistake. She had left the lights on. Beth viewed Jayden in his true form for the first time.
The shrieks began.
After several minutes of blood curdling, mouth foaming howls, Luna realized the girl was not going to regain rational thought. Out of options, she sent an energy pulse into Beth to induce unconsciousness. She would have to erase Beth's memory later, or risk her spiraling into insanity.
‘This is my fault, my doing,’ her mind screamed.
Panicked and crazed, Luna took Jayden's janji in her hands and willed what little psi she had into her mate. He stabilized slightly, but soon her meager stores were exhausted.
“One choice left.”
Now weak from psi loss herself, she stumbled for her purse, yanked out her cell phone, scrolled to the 'calls received' screen, and jabbed the call button. After several rings, a soft voice answered, thank Lilith!
“It's Luna. Come back now! Jayden is hurt; he won't live without you. Please please come to me, you are my last hope.”
She weeped her next words:
“I need you, Cassandra. I choose you as my srryn.”
End Part 2.
Lilim Tales - Part 3
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
|
Cassandra has at last learned who transformed her: mythical demons called lilim; the incubi and succubi of horror stories. Luna now promises to change her back to Cody if Cassandra helps save Jayden. Cassandra doesn't know if she can trust Luna, but since she figures her 'condition' can't get any worse, she has nothing to lose. She couldn't be more mistaken. |
The Lilim Tales - Part 3
by Armond
Author's note: for a cleaner pdf version of this story, please click here.
Part 3.
8.
The research was fascinating! Enlightening! And ...useless.
Cassandra ran 'Jaiden and Luana Lundquist', 'Jayden and Luna Longaine' and any possible variation she could contrive through every search engine known to man. The hits she gathered were a history walk into the 20th Century - a 'Jaide Lundquist' was a diplomat with the South African delegation that signed the original League of Nations charter in 1919. Curiously, 'Luana Lundquist' was listed as an attaché to the Swedish delegation at the UN Charter signing in 1945.
'Jayden Lundquist', she learned, served on the board of several multinational corporations, most recently as the CEO of Ascent Investments. Cassandra managed to Google image a blurry picture - a silver-haired man wearing a navy two-button Brooks Brothers suit. His jaw line looked so much like Jayden's, she thought they could be related; Daddy and Junior?
Luna's name, showed hits as the owner of dozens of high-powered media publications and outlets.
“Fabulous. I have a surfer dude -slash- limo driver whose father is king of Wall Street, and a crazy bitch who gives Rupert Murdoch a run for his money.”
The term 'lilim' produced bizarre disturbing links, to demons called incubus and succubus and their mother Lilith. Cassandra had never put stock in such myths, but then, here she sat, living proof that the impossible could happen.
Even if those myths were true, they offered nothing to explain her sex change. After two fruitless hours, Cassandra's head nodded to the keyboard; the day had seemed a year long and her brain circuits were fried.
Her cell phone ring tone -Bad to the Bone- jolted her awake.
“H-hello?” Her face felt funny; she ran her hand over her cheek and felt the key imprints. She also discovered she had drolled on the keys. Great.
The panic in Luna voice dragged Cassandra back to consciousness.
“Yeah, Ms. Longaine? Was there some name you forgot to call me, or did 'piece of shit cover it?'”
Luna was …crying? Sobbing something about Jayden being injured? Worry blanketed her, though she did not know why.
“Whoa, slow down…what happened? God, Luna. Call 911, or-”
Cassandra did not catch her answer, because Luna turned hysterical, screaming how Cassandra must save him.
“Okay, this is insanity, plain and simple. I'll call and have an ambulance sent to-”
Cassandra listened unbelieving to Luna's next words, answering after several moments of silence.
“Are you serious? Because, I would drive at warp speed through a hurricane for that. Alert your security guy, 'Bob', to let me in; you know the helpful lad who tossed me out?”
Cassandra clicked off her phone. She was stoked; this was the moment she had waited for since her change. She would throw on jeans and t-shirt, grab keys and wallet, and hit it.
Wait! She needed extra clothes too, Cody clothes, because Luna promised if she helped Jayden, she would change Cassandra back, tonight. The end of this nightmare had come!
The thunderstorm had taken up residence in the city, and continued to hammer away with lightning, thunder, and sheets of rain.
So, warp speed to Luna's was downgraded to impulse power, and the extra transit time brought her down to earth. Not all the way to ground, but close enough to question what she was doing.
“Think, Cassie! Does this make sense? A) They change you for reasons unknown. B) Jayden, the limo man, is hurt and so, C) instead of rushing him to the hospital, Luna calls you to do …what? And D) if you do this ...whatever ...for Jayden, she changes you back?
Right, and, oh look! The next street sign you see ahead says 'gullible'.”
Ultimately, she kept driving, because what did she have to lose? If Luna didn't change her back, then she was no worse off than now, right?
The surreal-ness hit hard when she entered Luna's building lobby, and the security guard -she named him 'Bob' because he looked like one- smiled and waved her through. Like they were old friends. Like he had no recollection of shoving her out the door just hours ago, threatening to sic the police on her.
The elevator ride up creeped her out too. The overhead lights flicked, making her wonder if she was going to be trapped. And the elevator interior reminded her of a mausoleum; she could not for the life of her, figure out why it needed to be arched and NBA player tall.
Cassandra knocked several times on the penthouse door, but no one came. Finding it open, she let herself in. Her footsteps echoed down the dark hallway; had the storm knocked out the power?
“Hello?”
“In my bedroom. Hurry!”
Luna's voice sounded …off, like multi-toned reeds vibrating. Cassandra followed it down the penthouse hallway, and the lightning flashes lit the way. She stopped in front of the doubled doors at the hallway's end. Even the lightning failed to penetrate that gloom.
“Ms. Longaine?”
“Cassandra! Thank Lilith you came! Jayden is dying and needs your psi now!”
Cassandra could just make out Luna's outline; a blacker shape in the shadowy dark, and ...something was wrong; her outline seemed too big.
“My …Psi? What's that?”
“Psi is energy that you -you alone- produce when your body is stimulated. Jayden needs to feed from you to regenerate. This is why we changed you, because -as a srryn- you produce energy we lilim live on.”
“You said that word earlier; lilim. They are supposedly sex demons, but that can’t be true.” Cassandra gave a nervous laugh.
“In your genetically altered body, when you are stimulated, you produce huge psi amounts. Jayden needs a massive dose now!”
“Wait ...wait ...” Cassandra puzzled it together - Psi. Stimulation. Sex. Demons. She wasn't escaping the nightmare, she was diving in deeper! What the fuck had they done to her?
A sinewy blue hand shot from the black and clamped her wrist.
“I've fed him all the psi I could, more than I should have. Do not be scared; I won't hurt you.”
“I don't know what you want!” Cassandra yelped. “Change me back, please! I ...won't tell anyone about this. I promise.”
“No 'changing back' for you, srryn. You will do this.”
“Do what? Let me go!”
She fought to pull away, but even as Cody, she couldn’t have broken Luna's steel grip. As little Cassandra? Her efforts were laughable. Luna yanked her into the shadows and pinned her to a wall.
“We do not have time for this, srryn.”
Luna shoved a fat rose crystal between Cassandra's lips and sweet syrup splashed on her tongue. She tried to spit the liquid out, but Luna's hand clamped her mouth; she gagged instead, swallowing in coughing gulps.
“C'taia, undiluted; this will hit you fast.”
Cassandra continued thrashing until a twin rush of lethargy and euphoria blanketed her, spinning her mind to cotton candy. Her legs buckled at the same moment she giggled. Luna held her to keep her from falling. Then she unsnapped Cassandra's jeans and let them drop to the floor.
“Jayden and I are so drained we cannot project a human image. You will see us in our true state. As you said, humans name us demons. Do you want a blindfold?”
“Mmm? Don't …know...” Cassandra couldn't think straight; she couldn't think much of anything beyond how tingly her body felt. “Ummm, what eggzactly are you doing to me?”
“What lilim always do to their srryn,” Luna answered, as she slipped Cassandra's panties off.
Cassandra giggled again; everything was suddenly hilarious.
“A zillion natural women in town and you call the babe who used to be a man for sexual CPR?” She snort giggled, and continued, “seriously, you turned me into an Everready sex bunny?”
“As funny as it seems, you alone can save him.”
She lifted the petite girl and carried her to where Jayden lay. Luna switched on the bedside lamp. She watched as the girl's eyes swept over her, first taking in her nonhuman face, then her black feathered wings. Luna braced for the inevitable screams. But instead she heard:
“Looona! You are an angel! Where's my damn sketch book when I need it?”
“Save him, Cassandra, save my mate!”
Cassandra turned to the bloody gray figure with crumpled wings; srryn instinct licked in.
“Jayden!”
Her hands shot out to touch him. When they did, a jolt of her energy flowed to him, and his eyes fluttered open.
“What's ...happening...?” Jayden whispered.
“Hush, my love. Our srryn is here for you,” Luna said, as she placed the girl next to him. “Quick, take his janja, -that's his tail tip- into your vagina and-”
“-My what? Ohhh yeaahh, that thingy down where my ooold thingy used to be ...this is … how it works?”
“Yes,” Luna said, “Trust me, you are going to love this.”
Cassandra took his tail in her hands. The tip was bulbous, smooth and about the size of a golf ball. And translucent blue.
“Hurry!” Luna pleaded.
“This is all...” she sighed, instead of saying 'too much.' Her hands started to shake. “I'm scared.”
“Don't be, darling, relax, and enjoy. This is as natural for a srryn as breathing.”
Luna guided the tip of Jayden's tail to Cassandra's vaginal folds. On contact, the tip pulsed blue, and a buzz -a mind blowing buzz- looped through her body.
“ohhhhhhh …so …um, not so bad…”
Gingerly, she slid pulsing tip between her folds and in, and felt the janja hum alive, throbbing. Her tingle buzz amped to a cascade of pleasure.
“Ahhhhmmmmm.”
“Yes!” Luna said. “He needs a massive hit to heal, as large as you can produce. I must stimulate you fully. Which means I am going to enter you with my janja.”
Cassandra grasped what Luna said, but couldn’t speak the simple question 'where.' Any sound other than moaning was beyond her.
Luna sensed her question. “Since your vagina is already filled...”
Luna pulled Cassandra to an 'all fours' position on the bed.
“...I'm taking you from behind.”
Her janja slipped into Cassandra's arousal-lubricated anus, and when Luna's tip started pulsing, the girl lost whatever shred of rational thought she'd clung to, surfing wave after orgasmic wave.
Luna tried to sip as little of Cassandra's psi as she could, but Jayden was right; Cassandra was the mother lode, and tasted fantastic.
At that instant, she became addicted to the girl.
9.
Jayden stretched his arms over his head. He felt weak and sore but whole. How had this happened?
He turned at the movement next to him, to find Luna's face ...kissing him.
“Are you mad? We shouldn't be this close.”
Luna silenced him with a finger to his lips. “Do you feel the feeding urge?”
No! For the first time since Lori died, he was psi sated. He shook his head.
“I am full too,” she whispered.
“But how? Beth could never have given such a charge. And why are we whispering?”
“Because we don't want to wake the srryn.” Luna raised a feathered black wing to show Cassandra curled and sleeping beside her.
“Cassie!” Of course, that explained the amazing psi. “This is fantastic news!”
He ran a hand along Cassandra's dark golden thigh and she answered with a small purring sound. Srryn purring. “And fully activated. She is magnificent!”
Luna sighed. “I do not know how she will be.”
“What do you mean?”
“We had months to prepare Lori for the Change, and she embraced it. With Cassandra, we have rammed every step of the process -her gender change, her new nature, everything- down her throat, including activating her last night. I had no choice; you would have died if I hadn't.”
Jayden shrugged. “She will adjust; srryns love their life.”
“Will she?” Luna ran a hand over Cassandra's smooth rump. “I tricked her to come here, drugged her, and then took her. Her srryn instincts are working fine, but the human part of her consciousness is in shock. Once that fades, another emotion is bound to kick in. How could it be anything but hate?”
Being fuck drunk didn't leave a hangover, apparently, because when Cassandra awoke, she felt the best she had in her life, even experiencing an after tremor of pleasure.
“Mmmm …Jesus.”
“Good morning, srryn.”
Cassandra opened her eyes to see Luna beside her on the bed. Luna projected her 'human' image, dressed in black silk pants and blouse. Cassandra scanned her surroundings: in the light of day, she found she lay on a bed three times as large as a king; it seemed like a football field. An image bubbled up in her mind, of creatures with huge wings, which explained the need for size.
Human survival instinct screamed ‘flee this creature’, but her new srryn nature countermanded with another directive. With shaking hands, she touched Luna's face.
“Are you well?”
Luna nodded, taking Cassandra's hand and squeezed.
“And …Jayden …he is better? Do I need to-”
Luna shook her head. “He is well, and resting in his bedroom.”
“Why did I ask that? Something forced me to …before I did anything else…”
“A Srryn's first thoughts are for her lilim. Thanks to you, he is healing. We owe you much.”
Images from last night flooded her brain, and she yanked her hands from Luna's.
“You lied to me.”
“I had no choice, I had to-”
“-You fucked me, and …I liked it.” Cassandra drew her knees close to her chest, lowered her head. “God help me, I loved it.”
Luna did not know what to say. Her feelings for the girl were in flux; she had saved her mate -no, saved them both- and for that alone she would be indebted to the srryn forever. And she craved the girl's taste; Cassandra was a drug to her.
“Change me back,” Cassandra rasped. “You promised!”
“I cannot. There is no reversal process. You will remain as you are for the next hundred years.”
“You fuckers!” When Cassandra raised her head, Luna saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I need …to get out of here. Where are my clothes?”
Luna sighed. “Modesty in a new srryn is like dew on summer grass, jeweled and fleeting.”
“Screw that, gimme my goddamn clothes,” Cassandra growled, as she searched for a top sheet to cover her chest. “Every fucking brainwashed thought I have is of you and Jayden. I am fighting urges telling me to wrap my arms around you. To comfort you. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?”
“Please Cassandra, calm down. Let me explain what has happened …and why. This is not what you think-
“-What I think,” Cassandra squealed, “is I need to get the fuck out of here! You have twenty-four hours to change me back. After that, I go to the police. Clear enough, Ms. Longaine?”
“That would not be advisable. First, with your story? The police will lock you away for psychiatric evaluation. Second, as the day progresses, the urge for you to feed us, the szen, will grow. The szen is a sexual burning, and will be stronger today because of Jayden's injury. If a srryn goes more than a couple of days without feeding her lilim, she becomes …erm…feral with desire.”
What was this monster telling her, that she would go into a mindless heat if she didn't fuck them?
“No, no, no!”
She jumped from the bed, ran to her folded clothes on a dresser, and struggled into them.
“Never call or see me again, unless it is to change me back.”
Luna knew she needed to grab her srryn, caress her, and help her understand. But between her guilt for the way she treated Cassandra and her mourning for Lori, she was paralyzed.
“Don't go! You will be back, Cassandra. The szen will overwhelm you.”
“You are dead wrong; I will never become your mindless…” mindless what? Sex slave? Energy cow? Cassandra had zero understanding of what she was. “…I…I won't. I swear to God I won't. And …I'll buy a gun and ...and shoot you if you come for me. You hear me?”
“You are making this so much harder than it needs to be.”
But with a screamed string of obscenities, Cassandra fled the penthouse. Luna's human projection vanished, and the winged creature slumped over into her bed. Sadness enveloped her and images played in her mind.
Her ache for Lori tore her soul still, but a tide change had come; Luna no longer hated Cassandra, if she ever had. For the first time since Lori's death, she admitted the reverse could be true.
Since Lori’s death, whenever Luna closed her eyes, her beloved’s face appeared.
Every time except now.
For when she shut her eyes this time, she saw Cassandra,
enraptured as she gazed at Rembrandt's paintings,
kneeling before her in her silk kimono, bright-eyed and smiling,
laying in her arms, seeing her true form and calling her an angel.
Luna moaned a word:
“Cassie.”
10.
“Is it possible to scream in pleasure and terror at the same time?”
Cody had never been a fan of theoretical discussions and neither was Cassandra now. What she debated was not hypothetical; she was, as far as she could tell, dealing with demons. Yet, Luna had looked so stunning, Cassandra's hands ached to sketch her. And when they entered her ? Her body pleasure-shivered at the memory.
Dawn’s glow greeted her when she stumbled into her apartment. She thought after her change two days ago, things could not get stranger, but now?
What should I do? What can I do?
She considered following through on her threat and buying a gun; maybe she could intimidate them, force them to change her back. The idea seemed stupid the moment she thought it, because, weren't they creatures pulled from horror flick casting, winged, super strong, and possessing weird mind powers?
And she was this tiny thing whose 'power' was to have mind-blowing sex.
“Yeah, that fight would last half a nanosecond.”
More than that, the thought of hurting them felt so wrong, it made her nauseous. Even now, she felt their call; she wanted to run her hands over their bodies. Her instincts told her she could never harm them.
Cassandra growled in frustration. “Fine, then I could ...I could off myself and end this nightmare story. Ha! Then the fucking energy feeders would be up shit creek.”
No, she could not do that, her srryn mind told her, in the tone a parent takes with a petulant child, because that would be hurting them, depriving them of the sustenance they needed to live. This was her duty, her purpose, to care for her lilim.
“Care for them? I never want to see them again! Jesus, they've screwed up my brain!”
Cassandra was about to crawl into bed and curl into a ball when her cell phone rang.
“Hello? ...E-emilie? ...No, I was up and ...hmm? An emergency? You missed your bus?”
Cassandra almost laughed; after last night, Emilie’s ‘emergency’ seemed so mundane. She did not think to respond with a typical Cody ‘sucks to be you' retort after Emilie begged a ride to her work. Instead, her offer of help was instantaneous.
'A srryn is helpful,' whispered a voice in her head. She shook it off, the way a swimmer shakes her head to get water out of the ears.
“S-sure, where do you need to go? Lexington and 12th? Near Market Street, right?”
A plan of action took root in her mind...
“...Great, cause this will work out pretty well for me, too…”
She knew Luna's words rang true; she could feel the urge, the -what had she called it, the szen?- building. Maybe this was like a drug addiction, and if she could get through the next few days without seeing them, she could beat it.
She adjusted her goal downward; she wasn't trying to change back to Cody. No, now all she wanted was to claw her way back to 'human normal.' If anything could take her mind off the szen, she figured her art would.
“…Maya wants me to do another ...er ...I mean do a watercolour of Market Street. See you in 15?”
An instinct -a new one- made Cassandra swing by Starbucks to pick up a latte and muffin for her friend. A dimpled smile lit Emilie's face when Cassandra thrust them to her.
“Mind reader! How did you know I didn't eat this morning?” Emilie said, and chomped into the blueberry muffin. “You are a life saver, by the way. I would have been in deep shit at work if I came in late today. Attorneys …ugh! Such prima donnas!”
They drove a while without talking, as Emilie attacked the hot gooey pastry. At some point, Cassandra realized the munching and slurping sounds had stopped and Emilie stared at her with eyebrow raised.
“What?”
“You look, er, healthy this morning; I swear you are glowing,” Emilie said, then her lips turned up in a sly smile. “Did you …get a little last night, girlfriend?”
Get a little? Holy shit! Understatement alert! She felt something in her lower body clenching at the memory, a something she struggled to identify. In her defense, it was a new body part …her pussy? It felt wet and tingly.
“Ah ha! You aren't denying it, eh? So you did!” Emilie said, and then pointed to an office building ahead on the left. “Ahead there — the reddish looking one, where hours of glorious document scanning awaits.”
Emilie jumped out when Cassandra pulled next to the curb. “Thanks again for the ride, the coffee, and the scoop. I expect -nay, demand- a full report on your adventures later.”
Full report? Cassandra wondered how that would go down. 'Um yeaaaah, I did have sex last night, for the first time as a female. I lost my virginity to two demons, who double fucked me, until I blacked out from orgasms.'
The flashback —or feedback- of what the lilim did to her caused a soft purr to escape her lips.
“Cassie? Are you okay?”
Cassandra realized her friend still watched her through the open car door. Shit.
“Y-yeah, why?”
“I don't know; for a second you looked like you had an org-” Emilie shook her head.
“Whatever you're on, girl, I need me some.”
With a determination of pure will, she focused on her task, despite her growing ...heat.
She set up her easel close to the granite walls of the Fourth National Bank building. That way, no one could come up behind her and startle her with a 'whatcha doing, painting?' brilliant observation. Plein air paintings presented a different set of problems to studio paintings.
It was a bright fall day, and at 9:30 A.M. the shadows of Market Square were still long, but shrinking. This was the time of day she had painted the scene as Cody, and she wanted to duplicate the conditions.
A breeze rustled the leaves of the paperbark maples that lined the street. The deep red of the leaves against the orange bark already gave the trees a fiery feel, and when the leaves shimmered, they morphed into swirls of energy.
She blinked; she had never seen them that way before.
“Okay, as Cody we started with the main shapes first, then we filled in the details. So as Cassie we do the same.”
Cassandra inventoried the main shapes; the tan Farmer's Market building with its clock tower, the white and angular art deco 'Arena' movie theater, parked cars, and people.
She blinked again. The people …didn't look like people. They were energy swirls too; each different colors, and she wondered if they signified different moods.
Even the buildings pulsed color.
It hit her: she wasn't seeing forms.
She had never seen like this! Never! What had changed? A lot, obviously, but what would do this?
She loved painting as Cody. She loved painting now.
What was it about Cody that sucked the life from his paintings? Or, what did she have now that let her experience everything so …alive?
Cassandra neither knew nor cared. The fire in her head trumped the szen in her body.
She grabbed her brush …and painted.
“Ms. Soutine?” Meredith held out her hand. “Meredith Benson, Trend Magazine. Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”
Maya led Meredith past the rows of easels to her office in the back of the studio.
“Excuse the mess,” Maya said, motioning for Meredith to sit. “Artists you know.”
Meredith grinned; the room did seem more collage than office. “As I said on the phone, we want to do a spread using Cassie, and I need to run background check.”
Maya squinted at the woman before her. They were roughly the same age, and Meredith looked like she was managing her forties well; her brunette hair looked natural and free of gray. She also sensed from Meredith's clear eyes she could like this woman. So why did she have the feeling Meredith wasn't being truthful?
“Yes, about that, do senior Trend editors do the background checks like this? I would have thought someone junior could have done this over the phone.”
“Normally that's true,” Meredith said. “But this 'spread' is the pet project of the owner and editor-in-chief Luna Longaine, and so I decided to handle it. How long have you known Cassie?”
“A couple of days. She is quite talented, much more so than her cousin whom I’ve known longer. Their styles are similar; uncannily so. I'll know more when I see what she does with an assignment I've given her.”
Meredith had hoped for more information from Maya about the mysterious young woman. She had already checked Facebook, MySpace, numerous search engines, and had learned nothing; Cassandra Albornos was the Ungooglable Woman.
Maya's eyes narrowed. “Something is going on here; I sense it. What aren't you telling me?”
Meredith leaned back in her chair. Maya was sharp; time to level.
“Something is different about her that…” Meredith struggled with how to phrase it, so Maya wouldn't think she was crazy. Well, she will think that anyway; what Meredith had to figure was a way to phrase it so Maya wouldn't think her bat-shit insane.
“Cassie is in grave danger. There are beings who would cause her harm. I'm trying to warn her, but I don't have an address, or phone number.”
“Beings? What do you mean by that?”
Meredith pushed her business card across the desk to Maya. “Call me. Anytime, night or day. I must talk with her.”
Meredith left Maya to wonder what the hell had just happened.
The practical part of her mind sent up red flags; Maya's first thought was she might be dealing with a lunatic. But -what had Cody called it? Her 'new agey' side- told her this woman was not crazy, and something bizarre was happening. Cassie was due to return to her class this afternoon. Maya would talk with her, and see what happened next.
Meredith's words echoed in her mind. Cassandra was, without a doubt, the most exotic creature she had ever seen. Yet when she examined her self-portrait sketch, she could have sworn…
In addition to her formidable artistic talent, Maya possessed a knack for art forensics; she could recognize a vast array of artists by their brushstrokes and style.
Maya's first impression when she looked at Cassandra's self-portrait sketch was that Cody had drawn it for her.
Now she contemplated a far stranger explanation.
11.
“Time. Pencils down.”
Cassandra stopped her sketching, looked down, and grinned. Gesture drawings had never been 'her thing', but they were a necessary warm up to a sketching class, just as a runner needed to stretch before he dashed off. After this morning's painting session, she captured the motion and energy with ease.
Maya had been standing behind Cassandra and voiced her agreement.
“You're in the groove already, Cassie. Excellent.”
Cassandra blushed at the praise; she wasn't used to it. The moment passed, because, after Maya arranged the model in a different position, Cassandra was off again, captured by the lines and contours. Two hours flew by without her realizing it; nor was she -thankfully- overwhelmed by her desires for Luna and Jayden. When the inspiration was on her, the szen faded to dull burn.
She sensed Maya hovering about her more than the other students, but figured the extra attention was because she was the 'new kid.'
After the session ended, Cassandra picked up the two paintings she'd brought with her and moved to the back of the line of students waiting to talk with Maya.
Emile was in front of Cassandra and she cocked an eyebrow when she turned to her.
“C'mon, Cass, dish; I've been waiting all day to hear about your tryst.”
“Tryst?” Cassandra had never heard the word. “What's that?”
“You know, affair, liaison,” Emilie leaned over and whispered, “do’in the dirty.”
“Oh.” Cassandra’s cheeks warmed, and she hoped her new dark coloring camouflaged it. She couldn't help it; Emilie's words unlocked the heat Cassandra had fought all day to cage. Her lips started moving before her brain could intercede.
“It's not what you think. These inhuman creatures have changed me in ways you cannot imagine and control me; they make me have orgasms so they can eat my energy.”
“Cassie? …what are you talking about, are …are you all right?”
Shit! Why did she say that? The look on Emilie's face spoke volumes; if Cassandra told the truth, people would think she was a complete whack job. She would have three days ago if she had heard her words coming from someone else's mouth.
She plastered a big fake grin on her face and tried to undo the damage.
“Psych! God, you should have seen the look on your face. The real thing is this: I …came to town just a couple of days ago, and already I'm in a relationship. I have no idea where it's going but-”
“Okay, who is he? Now you got me hooked. I quit my second job and am going to actually paint tonight-
“-Congratulations!” Cassandra gave her a fist bump.
“Thanks. Since I’m painting tonight, I can’t do dinner. But I must hear more about your new boytoy. Free for lunch tomorrow?”
“Yeah, how bout we grab fish tacos at Wahoos?”
“What is it with your family?” Emilie said.
“Eh?”
“That's Cody's favorite place. I elect you to drive, since, um, you have the car.”
The conversation ended then, because Maya was ready to talk with Emilie. Emilie gave Cassandra a quick goodbye after she asked a composition question. Which left Maya and Cassandra alone in the studio.
“I'm anxious to speak with you,” Maya said. “Is that the Market Square assignment?”
Cassandra nodded. “Why have you wanted to talk to me?”
Maya's smile smoothed the lines on her face and lit her eyes. “Because you present a mystery. Did you bring Cody's painting? I want to look at it first.”
Cassandra nodded and lifted it up. They looked at it in silence.
“His composition, color manipulation, and brush stroke technique are competent…”
Cassandra heard Maya’s implied 'but'.
“Let's see yours.”
For a second she was scared; what if it was no better? What if she hadn't improved? She bit her lip and brought it up.
“WOW!” The word burst from Maya's lips.
“Wow? Really?”
“Yeah! Double wow! The energy is amazing! God, girl, you've burst boundaries here! Well, scratch that theory.”
“What theory?”
“I'm a bit of a free spirit thinker, and having watched you in class today, I noticed you have the exact same pencil strokes as Cody. Not similar; the same. My belief is an artist's strokes are like fingerprints, no two alike. After I talked with a magazine editor I met today who was asking about you, I developed the crazy theory you weren't Cody’s cousin. I thought, somehow -magically, I guess- you were Cody. This blows my theory all kablooey.”
Cassandra couldn't breathe; Maya had guessed it! Or ...almost had.
“How does my painting …um, blow the theory?”
“Because Cody could never have painted something like this. This is a level he will never reach. Unless ...hey! Why weren't your first words something like 'that's a crazy theory, Maya?'”
“Can I ...ask a favor?” Cassandra whispered.
“Sure, hun, what is it?”
“Don't say this to anyone else. I'm begging you. When I make sense of things, I will tell you if I can. I promise. But PLEASE keep this between you and me.”
“Wait! Are you saying it's true?” Maya's mouth could not have hung open any wider.
Cassandra didn't answer. Instead she gathered her paintings and materials and bolted to the studio's glass doors. Outside, the autumn sun was setting, and the light framed her. Maya blinked as she stared at the girl, because, in the direct sunlight, her dark golden skin sparkled.
12.
She was a caged animal, stalking from one side of her apartment to the other.
She had returned from Maya's class hours ago, worried by Maya's insights, but euphoric over her praise. Her painting was good. No, it was special, a breakthrough for her. Maya raved about it!
Her high fizzled as her body's desires redoubled their assault. Images of Luna, of Jayden filled her mind. She needed to touch them.
“No! God dammit, NO! I am not their sex pet.”
Even as she spoke those words, she realized her hands were rubbing her pussy. Again! At some point in the last half hour her clothes had disappeared from her body, and she couldn't remember how or when.
Jayden's crumpled figure flashed again in her mind, and she howled in frustration: he was wounded. He needed her. Luna too. She felt her body's sexual heat, her 'psi', revving up.
“No,” she whimpered. “This is not. My. Duty. They forced this on me.”
She tried everything to break her rising arousal, but nothing worked. Cold showers weren't cutting it, for even ice cold water tingled her skin. Sleeping pills were a bust too; her body burned right through them.
She remembered her reading of The Odyssey, and Odysseus' solution to the Sirens, lashing his body to the ship's mast. Maybe she could tie herself down, to stop from running to them or, at the least, continuously frigging herself.
Except …the image of being tied up thrilled her more. What’s wrong with me?
She fell to the floor and curled into fetal position, breathing hard. From somewhere she heard her cell phone ring. She managed to crawl to it and click it on speaker.
“Cassie? Tell me what is going on with you.”
“Looona! Help!”
“Come, my srryn. Come now. Can you drive?”
“N-no ...can't …”
“Don't be scared, darling, I will fly to you-”
“Hurry. Need you.”
“I am coming.”
Luna found Cassandra still curled on the floor. The girl's breathing was fast and shallow, and when Luna checked her eyes, she found they glowed amber.
“You poor thing! I never should have let you leave me today.”
At Luna's touch, Cassandra moaned, “Loona!”
Luna carried her to a nearby couch, laid her down, and kissed her. She tasted the girl's psi from her lips, hot and rich. If she turned off the lights in the room, Cassandra would be glowing.
Luna did not want what was to follow to seem like a 'feeding' to Cassandra, but rather an act of love. She kissed every inch of Cassandra's body. When her lips reached her clit, Luna slid her janji into Cassandra's vagina.
She held the girl to her chest as the delicious psi poured in. A long sigh escaped Cassandra that evolved into purring. Cassandra's eyes closed in an orgasmic pleasure loop and a lazy smile played on her face.
“You poor creature,” Luna whispered. She kissed the top of Cassandra's head, which made her purr louder. Her longing for Lori had not lessened, but she no longer viewed Cassandra as replacing her. Instead, she supplemented her, carried on for her first srryn. And there was something familiar about the energy she tasted from 'her Cassie.' She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was comforting.
“You were right, Lori, about everything,” Luna said as she clutched Cassandra in her arms.
After several minutes, she saw the amber glow of Cassandra's eyes had lessened. Her breathing had deepened as well. Luna knew Cassandra was not yet released from the szen urge; she was still filled with power that needed to be fed to Jayden. The girl's own words confirmed it:
“Take me to him …please!”
At least she was speaking in sentences again. “I will. I wish I could fly you, but I can carry but twenty extra pounds and still fly. Though as filled as I am with psi, I'm tempted to try. What car do you drive? Please don't say the words 'Mini Cooper'.”
Human projection or no, lilims couldn't defy the laws of physics, they couldn't squish into tight spaces.
Cassandra blinked at her, willing her pleasure addled brain to retrieve the information. “328i.”
Luna hoped she would say said something like an SUV, but a BMW sedan would work, if she lowered the backseats down and draped her wings onto the enlarged cargo space.
“Let's go home, Cassie. Put on some clothes; you need to try to pass for human when you are outside.”
“Clothes?” Cassandra blinked again.
Luna chuckled. “We lilim have a saying: 'a srryn is parted from her clothes faster than a human from his gold.'”
Luna gathered Cassandra's jeans and t-shirt and dressed her. Then, spotting the girl's sketchbook, she took it also. Her new srryn was an artist, she remembered and would perhaps want to draw when the szen heat passed? Luna would have one of her rooms converted into a studio.
Luna felt a tug on her arm.
“Jayden. Need.”
Cassandra's eyes glowed bright amber again from the szen.
“Of course, darling, I will take you to him”
There was much she needed to do for Cassandra, and much to learn. But she had so mangled Cassandra's srryn initiation, she wondered if the girl could ever feel anything for her other than srryn duty.
Luna accused Cody of being despicable, yet it was she who won that title. She felt a soft hand on her cheek.
“Loona? Are you well? May I help you?”
Though she knew this was pure srryn instinct talking, the knowledge did little to salve the guilt burning in Luna's chest.
“Lilith!”
Jayden moaned the word; Cassandra tasted so good! Another couple of days of this psi diet would find him up and flying. And just twenty-four hours ago, he hurtled to ground and almost died. Amazing! What a srryn! The other lilims were sure to be envious.
“I wasn't able to thank you last night; I owe you my life.”
Cassandra nodded in return. She didn’t know what to say; part of her -the part controlled by her new hardwiring- was thrilled to hear the praise from her lilim.
Sighing, she raised her knees and held them to her chest. After the szen ended and her human consciousness returned , she realized how exhausted she was. She guessed it was midnight, but she didn't know; all her days and nights had blurred together after her change.
“Come, Cassie.”
Cassandra looked up, to see Luna framed in Jayden's bedroom. Something told her she had to obey.
“okay.” Her voice was plaintive and soft.
Jayden heard the sadness. He guessed Luna was right; Lori's journey had been so different. He felt a guilt twinge but then shrugged. What could he do? Luna would get her feeling right; srryns always bonded closer to the female lilim.
When Cassandra reached her, the winged creature swept her into her arms and carried her to Lori's room. She placed her on the day bed and sat next to her.
“Your struggle against the szen today was a terrible ordeal for a srryn to endure, Cassie. I am so sorry; I did not prepare you, and you suffered for it. Do you fight your change still?”
“No,” Cassandra sobbed.
She wanted to fight it; oh how she longed to. But after the pure pleasure she received from Luna and Jayden last night and tonight, she knew she couldn't; humanity had nothing like this ecstasy.
Nothing.
“I am your fuck unit.” She spat the words. “Where do I stay when I'm not reporting for duty? In a refrigerator or something?”
“Stop speaking so! You are not a 'fuck unit'; this is supposed to be an extraordinary life you've landed in,” Luna said.
“Oh? You feed off me like I'm a ...a kind of milk cow, or psi cow ...and my sole purpose is to service you -that's what the little brainwashing voices keep whispering in my head- so how am I not livestock to you?”
“You have this backwards, Cassie. It is our duty to care for you and make you happy. We serve you, for without you, we die. And we must fulfill your desires, because the greater your pleasure, the more potent and better tasting your psi.”
“Cows are fattened before they are slaughtered, to make their meat taste better. How is this different? How am I different?”
Luna stared down through the green eyes of her little srryn and into her bleeding soul. What could she do? Lori had welcomed her new life with joy, and their partnering had been glorious.
Lori! How she missed her old srryn.
Yet here lay another bright-eyed srryn in her arms. Maybe she would never love her as she had Lori, but she did care for her, and her Turn had started with disaster and suffering. True, Jayden acted rashly, but Jayden was, well, Jayden, a typical male lilim. It was she who made this worse by rejecting Cassandra -unfairly- because she couldn’t let go of Lori.
How could she right things? What should she say?
A lilim’s first duty to a new born srryn is to explore the srryn's sexual fantasies, to learn which buttons to push to heighten her psi production. While this discovery time between Luna and Lori had been innocent and fun, Cassandra was in no condition to handle the subject. Mentioning it would reinforce her view that she was food.
She could tell Cassandra she was now a full partner in something akin to human marriage, but among three instead of two. Because of the Changing, lilim couples only experienced intimate contact through their srryn, and they were as bound to her as she was to them.
Though true, this wouldn't help Cassandra either, since the 'marriage' had been rammed down her throat. She needed to hear something else; something to give her hope.
“Cassie,” Luna stroked Cassandra's face, “you are not a glorified 'sex cow'. We care for you, little one, and are duty bound to ensure you live a rich, fulfilling life.”
Cassandra barked a harsh laugh. “Sure, and you started by destroying everything about me. Would you go? I want to sleep, and it will be easier if you weren't here. Because, even now the little whispers are telling me to caress your face.”
“You are supposed to sleep with me; a srryn's place at night is beside the female lilim.”
“This is all ...I need more time to ...”
“Okay, Cassie. Sleep here. I'll see you in the morning.”
Though she tried so hard not to, the tears she dammed burst forth.
“Shit! Don't ...don't look at me! Just go!”
“What's wrong?”
“Are you serious?” Cassandra spluttered. “I'm already thinking about our next 'feeding session' and I can't wait. It felt so damn good and I hate myself for it.”
Luna looked across the room to Lori's desk. With the slightest wince of concentration, Lori's journal lifted and floated from the desk to rest on Cassandra's lap.
“Jesus! You just ...I mean ...Jesus!”
“Read this, srryn. First thing tomorrow morning. I order you to.”
Cassandra's head bobbed up and down. Her eyes widened when she realized her new 'programming' also compelled her to obey orders from the lilims. Shit.
“You gonna throw me out again after I do?”
“I'm so sorry I did that Cassie, I … if you could understand what Lori meant to ...” Luna sighed. “Read it, and know what a life as a srryn truly means.”
After Luna left, Cassandra placed the book at the foot of the day bed and lay down. She was so exhausted; the thought didn't occur to her that she was naked and had been so for hours. Even if it had, her programming would have told her a srryn's natural state is au natural.
She didn't have another thought, tumbling instead into a deep sleep, where the face of a young woman filled her dreams.
The dream face was dark gold, a srryn's, and she seemed to be trying to talk to her.
13.
The first thing Cassandra did when the morning sunrays licked her face, was to read; the life story of Lorraine Cynthia Aaren.
She would have sought out her lilim, to tend to them, her programming told her, but Luna had given her a direct order, and so read she must.
As she flipped page after page, Lori's life with Luna and Jayden played before her.
Lori was a young 18 when the lilim found her, and she confessed she was scared when they 'proposed'. But Lori was an adventurous soul and the young woman agreed to undergo the srrynah process.
The lilims were young then too, Lori wrote, in their first Turn, and without responsibilities yet, so they 'stretched their wings,' and saw the world. Officially, Lori traveled as Luna's assistant, and they booked eastbound passage to England on the RMS Lusitania in 1911. Which, Lori wrote, was later torpedoed by the Germans in World War One...”
They sailed on the Lusitania? Amazing!
The images of their travels, their life, rolled from Lori's pages and into Cassandra's brain: life in London, Paris, Madrid. Rome. Cassie saw history unfold through Lori's eyes. And not just human history, for Lori wrote of the lilim culture in hiding, too. Their annual ‘Gathering’ in the secret lilim stronghold high atop the Andes. Their songs, their art.
That got Cassandra's attention. Though Lori gave a brief description, Cassandra guessed they expressed their art through some sort of 3D medium. Which blew her mind, her 2D canvas was daunting enough. She wished she could see their works; how amazing that would be.
Their life continued, through the 1930s and 40s, and Cassandra learned Luna had, indeed signed the UN Charter. Through Lori's narrative, Cassandra also learned the lilim were heavily involved in human affairs. According to Lori, the lilim were dedicated to helping humanity not repeat their terrible evolutionary mistake.
Whatever that meant, Cassandra thought.
With their traveling days behind them, Luna and Jayden assumed prominent roles in business.
So it was Jayden -not his father- who was the Wall Street tycoon? Then why is he driving a limo now?
Cassandra wondered if Jayden was having a midlife crisis, but since the lilim lived several hundred years, this wouldn't be midlife.
Hell, maybe they had several.
Lori's description of her sex life was ...incredible. Cassandra realized it was silly to consider the trio would engage in the lilim equivalent of the missionary position for their many 'feedings', and of course, they didn't. They explored every kink and fantasy Cassandra was aware of, and many more lilim practices she had never dreamed of.
Cassandra reread one passage several times, where Lori described one of her many sexual fantasies. From what Cassandra gathered, the lilim somehow made her fantasies become real.
To pump up her psi output, no doubt, Cassandra thought, trying to affect disgust. But still ...what would that be like?
In this scenario, Lori was kidnapped and sold at an auction to a sheik for his harem. The fantasy lasted an entire month. Only at the end did Lori learn Jayden had disguised himself as the sheik.
God! Cassandra felt the szen twinge low in her body. Can this be real?
Through the spectacular march of history, the glorious sexual escapades, through it all, Cassandra found Lori's journal at its heart...
...was a love story.
But …not between Luna and Jayden! No, it was Luna and Lori!
Then Cassandra found a page with an old Polaroid photo taped to it. A golden-skinned woman, a srryn, Cassandra thought, grinned at the camera. Behind her stood spectacular snow-capped mountains.
Below the snapshot, Lori had written, Me, at The Gathering, 1972.
Cassandra blinked at the picture, looked up, then looked down again.
“Wait a minute. Wait just one damn minute …that’s Lori?”
Cassandra hopped up from the bed, trotted over to Lori’s desk to pick up her sketch book, and with both books in hand, steamed down the hallway to Luna’s bedroom.
“Thank you for meeting me at this ungodly early hour, Meredith. You too, Emilie.”
Emilie nodded. “You said it was an emergency. So, what's up?”
Meredith and Emilie sat in the chairs in front of her desk; each wearing curious looks. Maya did a quick sweep of her desktop to confirm the absence of blunt objects. She half-suspected she might be hit with one, once she aired her thoughts.
“Emilie, this is Meredith Benson. She is a senior editor with Trend Magazine, and yesterday she expressed concerns to me about Cassandra's wellbeing. I've since talked with Cassie, and have developed some different sorts of worries. I wanted you here because you've met Cassie and know her cousin Cody well too.”
Emilie raised her eyebrows. “I'm not sure what one has to do with the other, but whatever I can do to help Cassie; she's been amazing to me since I met her.”
“Before I tell you what I've discovered, Meredith, why don't you share more about your concerns.”
“I will, but first, to set the tone of the meeting, I want to show you something.”
Meredith pulled a small stack of papers from a folder she had brought, and pushed them across the desk to Maya. After Maya skimmed the first couple of pages, she felt her breath catch.
“I'm …so sorry,” Maya said, giving the papers to Emilie with shaking hands.
Emilie did a quick read and the words 'breast cancer' 'terminal' and 'prognosis: eight months' leaped out.
“Oh no!”
“Wait, stop the pity train, ” Meredith held up her hand. “Look at the date of the diagnosis.”
Emilie took another look. “This was six years ago, so …you're beating the odds?”
Meredith shook her head. “I am cancer free. Which is a medical impossibility. I needed to show you this, so you would have some hope of believing what I say next.”
After this lead in, Meredith had the complete attention of the women.
“My cancer was cured by a woman named Luna Longaine six years ago.”
“You mentioned her name yesterday. Doesn't she own Trend magazine?”
Meredith nodded. “And about a dozen others.”
“Alright. So, I'm a free thinker here,” Maya said. “How did she do it? Is she a healer?”
Meredith shook her head, gulped, and launched into her explanation.
“She is a non-human creature called a lilim. She used some sort of crystal to rid my body of cancer. In the last few days, she has set her sights on your friend Cassandra Albornos. I fear she is enslaving the girl, though I know not how or why.”
There! She'd said it! They might think her insane, but she had at least gotten the subject onto the table. From the expression she read on Emilie's face, the young artisit, did, in fact, think she was raving mad. But Maya, she saw, was considering it.
“Since we are 'talk'in crazy,' let me share my thoughts,” Maya said. “I have found that an artist's style and brush strokes are uniquely her own. They are like fingerprints or DNA, and no two artists strokes are alike. I believe that Cassandra Albornos is, or three days ago was, Cody Elias.”
“Were you two doing shots of crazy Kool Aid before I arrived? Cuz you are both talking gibberish.”
Meredith leveled a stare at Maya. “Are you making fun of me? I’m serious, and I think Cassie's freedom and her life are in danger.”
“I'm serious too,” Maya said, flicking back a stray strand of gray. “Cassie confirmed as much to me yesterday evening. Emilie, did you notice her acting, oh, I don't know, antsy or agitated after class?”
“What?”
Detailed started to click in Emilie's mind: Cody vanishes and *poof* Cassandra appears, living in his apartment, driving his car. And she's an artist, just like he was.
Fragments of conversations replayed in her mind, where Cassandra apologized for Cody, or wanted to eat at Cody's favorite place or…
“Wait …she had this glow about her yesterday morning, like she'd had amazing monkey sex, then last night when I pumped her for info, she said the oddest thing; that these creatures…”
Emilie looked at Meredith then, with wide eyes.
“…inhuman creatures, changed her somehow, controlled her, and were feeding off her energy.”
“Alrighty then,” Meredith said. “This is stranger than even I imagined, but, great; we are getting somewhere. Let's call Cassie and confront her-”
“-We can try,” Maya said. “I've been calling her cell phone -which is Cody's old number, by the way- and haven't gotten her to answer.”
“Then let's go to Cody's place; I know the way,” Emilie said.
“Sure and if she's not there, then I suggest we pay Luna a visit. A hundred bucks says we'll find her there.”
“Where does the dragon lady of the media reside, Meredith?” Maya asked.
“She and her lover Jayden occupy the top floors of the Beckendorf Tower.”
The Beckendorf Tower? The building had always reminded Maya of a Gothic Castle.
“Why do I get the feeling we've stepped into a horror movie, and we are the peasants who storm Frankenstein's or Dracula's castle armed with pitchforks?” Maya asked.
“I hope you are wrong,” Meredith said with a grim smile. “Because that always ended poorly for the peasants.”
Cassandra found her lilim asleep. Intuition told her to crawl into bed with Luna. After reading Lori’s journal, she didn't know if she should resist the urge.
During her life, Lori traveled the world, became fluent in ten languages, was a published author and an accomplished ballet, ballroom and belly dancer.
Which must have fit nicely with that harem fantasy.
Cassandra admitted this did not sound like the life of a 'psi cow' So ...maybe she shouldn’t fight this so hard?
Maybe maybe maybe!
She sighed, set the books on the edge of the bed, and climbed into bed next to the gorgeous winged creature.
“Good morning, Luna, are you well?”
Blue downed arms pulled her in. “Mmm. I am now, srryn.”
Cassandra watched as full consciousness cleared in Luna’s black oval eyes.
Lilim have trouble waking up too; who knew?
“C-cassie? Good morning.”
“She loved you so much.”
“Loved me?” Luna was still not quite there. “What?”
“Lori,” Cassandra pointed to the journal. “She loved you with everything she had, for a hundred years!”
“As I did her! We were …we were…”
Cassandra put a finger to Luna’s mouth. “I know. I read it all. Her last entries were so sad. She knew she was dying and worried so for you. For Jayden, too, a little, but mostly you. Does he know how close you and Lori were?”
Luna gave a sad smile. “Lilim males are pretty stupid about these things.”
“I am sorry for your loss …if I could make your pain go away, I would.”
Luna pulled Cassandra so close she could hear the lilim’s two hearts beating. And feel Luna's body convulsive in sobs.
“What do you think of her story?” Luna finally asked.
Cassandra’s voice was soft. “It gives me some hope.”
“Some?”
“A little.”
“But seeing will be believing?”
“It’s just …this is all so new and strange and…” and unasked for.
“All I ask is one chance. Let me show you how good your life with me …and Jayden, of course, can be.”
“Okay, but …promise me you won’t sell me off to a sheik. At least, erm …not yet.”
Luna chuckled; she would definitely be digging into her new srryn’s fantasies soon. “So, now you have a better understanding of what you have become, you must have a thousand questions. Fire away.”
“I do. Question 1. And it’s a strange one.”
That sounded stupid, Cassandra thought, what part of this wasn’t strange?
She flipped open the journal. “This is Lori, right?”
After Luna answered with a wistful yes, Cassandra continued. “Why do I see her face in my mind?”
“I don't understand...”
“Ever since you threw me out of here, I see her in my mind and dreams.”
“But surely you saw her picture that night when you opened the journal.”
“No, I didn’t, and …look here.” Cassandra opened her sketch book. “I drew this yesterday in art class.”
Luna looked down at the unmistakable likeness of her first srryn. What could this mean?
Memories converged. Both Cassandra and Beth had mentioned feeling a presence in here. Beth claimed a ‘something’ tried to possess her and she had fled the room, screaming. Cassie said she heard a voice too, but what happened then?
In the olden days, when srryns were more powerful, it was not uncommon for the srryn of the second Turn to take the first srryn’s essence into her. Their 'spirits' fused over the Turn, to form a srryn so powerful, she lived through the third Turn as well. They were named srryn-bas, but one hadn't appeared in ten thousand years.
But Cassie is so strong ...was it ...could it be possible?
“Wait. right. here.”
Luna was a blur of motion, gone and back again in an instant. Her hand now held a small crystal ball dangling from a silver chain.
“Cool,” Cassie said, “what's that?”
“A k'jarn; hold still.”
As before, the stone pulsed a brilliant green; if anything, it was far stronger than Cassandra's first reading as Cody.
What an amazing srryn! Luna thought.
Then, after the first bright pulse, there followed a second one...
Faint, but unmistakable. And steady.
“Lilith!” Luna shrieked. “Oh my holy Lilith!”
End part 3.
Lilim Tales - Part 4 (Conclusion)
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Lilim Tales - Part 4 (Conclusion)
by Armond
In the conclusion to the tale, Cassandra's friends gather to try to rescue her from Luna, while Cassie learns what her fate will be as the lilim's Second Turn Srryn.
Lilim Tales - Part 4 (Conclusion)
by Armond
14.
Silence reigned inside Meredith's Lexus as it weaved through the early morning traffic.
Minutes before, she, Maya and Emilie had been screaming about whether they should go to the police with their suspicions about Luna; Emilie voted ‘yeah’, but the older women overruled her.
So after Meredith pulled into the 'Pie In The Sky' Bakery, and spent 15 long minutes picking up a special order, it was hard to tell if Emilie or Maya looked more stunned.
“And why, on this demon intervention mission, was it critical for us to stop at a bakery, Meredith?” Maya said.
“Open the box and read,” Meredith said. After seeing their expressions, she added, “no really, I'm not losing it. Open it.”
Emilie popped open the cake box. “'Happy Birthday Luna.' It's Ms. Longaine's birthday?”
“What? No! Or,” Meredith paused, “I suppose it could be. Look, we've got to get by their security guard, and I think this will do the trick.”
Maya picked the thought up. “Because, he or she-”
“He. His name is Robert-”
“Because Bob knows you, and if this is a surprise birthday visit, he'll …let us go on up without alerting Ms. Longaine?”
“Got it in one,” said Meredith; she was proud of her little brainstorm. “That's the Beckindorf Tower ahead. When we get inside, let me do the talking with Bob; I've been buttering him up for years.”
“Are you sure we are ready for this? If what we suspect is true, we are about to confront inhuman night creatures, and accuse them of kidnapping and ...changing Cody into Cassie,” Maya said. “And we're armed with a Birthday Cake.”
'She has a point,' Meredith thought. 'Maybe this would be an excellent time to tell them about the loaded Smith & Wesson J-Frame revolver in my purse.'
When Jayden announced -Bruce Wayne like- that 'we must adjourn to the computer room to consult the data bases', Cassandra figured they were headed to a small study she hadn’t seen. Where she expected to find something unusual; they were lilim, after all, so maybe they used Linux instead of PC or Mac?
Turns out, her Batcave thought was closer to the truth.
Jayden and Luna led her to a secret windowless chamber, two levels below their penthouse. The room was bathed in greenish light; in the center stood five glowing skull sized crystals positioned in a star pattern on black marble pedestals.
The crystals, Jayden explained, were ultra advanced versions of the quantum computers humans were starting to develop. When she asked where the screen was, he said the information was transmitted directly to their minds.
“I've consulted our data bases, and our srryn's condition matches the definition of a srryn-ba.” Jayden was giddy. “This will make an excellent report for the Gathering this year!”
"Dammit, Jayden, Cassie is not a research paper!" Luna's voice drifted into screeching range.
"What does it mean ...to be a srryn-ba?" Cassandra failed to keep the tremor from her voice.
What am I now?
"You took Lori's life energy into you, and so she lives,” Luna said, putting her hands on Cassandra's shoulders. “Let me find out more for you.”
When Luna closed her eyes, the skulls crystals glowed bright green.
"I see …after her Turn, the first srryn's energy is weak, and she will lay dormant for the majority of the second Turn. But your 'energies' will grow together and strengthen, so rather than dissipating at the end of your Turn, you and Lori will merge to form a new srryn, and live through our last Turn!"
The continuous barrage of impossibilities that had flooded her the past days pushed Cassandra's mind to the saturation point. Another being shared her body? Should she be screaming? In terror? In joy?
What the fuck am I?
All she knew for certain was Luna's black lilim eyes brimmed with rapturous fire.
Her elation ...her ecstasy ...is to see her Lori.
The world they shared, the life they built, the one hundred year love story of Lori and Luna she had read in the journal bubbled back into her mind, and she wondered,
Could Luna ever look this way for me? Why would she?
“Look!” Jayden's 'kid with a new toy' tone snapped Cassandra attention back. “The archives say a procedure exists which allows us to speak with Lori through Cassie, if she's willing.”
“Will it …hurt?” Cassandra asked.
Luna concentrated, gathering more data from the crystals, then shook her head.
“No, darling. It will seem as though you sleep for a time. Will you …will you do this?”
Cassandra heard the unsaid 'for me,' and felt the purest longing pour from her lilim. She felt petty, she knew it was wrong, but Cassandra was jealous.
To be loved by someone so much, the way Luna loves her Lori, what would that be like? What have I ever done to deserve such grace?
Still, should she agree? To give over control of her body to some other being. The thought terrified her. She would say no. She wanted to say never! But ...this was her lilim asking, begging her for this.
“We must postpone the experiment,” Jayden said, eyes closed. “Because we have unexpected visitors above.”
Luna closed her eyes too, and when they reopened, an eyebrow arched. “Meredith, has arrived, with Maya Soutine and another young lady in tow. And Meri appears to have brought a gun with her. Now what do you suppose my inquisitive senior editor is up to?”
“She brought Maya?” Cassandra said, grabbing Luna's arm. “Maya pieced it together the other night! She figured out from my art technique that I was Cody.”
“Did she now? Then we will deal with them,“ Luna said, not bothering to hide her anger. “We might as well have some fun; here is how we will play this...”
15.
“Meredith! What an unexpected surprise! And you've brought guests! Lovely.”
Luna found them wandering the penthouse hallway. She greeted them in the image befitting the head of a fashion empire, wearing the illusion of a liquid-purple Versace evening dress and gray high heeled pumps.
“What business has brought you breaking down my door, so to speak.”
“Where is she?” Meredith said. “What have you done with her? To her.”
“Her?” Luna said.
“Don't play stupid. You know who we mean. Cassandra.”
“She used to be someone else,” Emilie said, “and you changed her.”
Luna put a hand on her hip. “I'm afraid I have no idea what you are talking about, young lady.”
“Bring her out and let us ask her,” Maya said.
“You are Maya Soutine, correct? I am a huge fan,” Luna said, “although I am not pleased about you breaking into my home and ordering me about. I'm afraid I must ask you to leave.”
Meredith drew her gun from her purse and pointed it at Luna. “Enough stalling. I don't care if you healed me or not, demon, I will not allow you to harm that girl. Bring her out now.”
“Oh dear, pointing a gun at your employer is not going to look good on your performance review,” Luna grinned. “Very well; if you insist. CASSIE? Could you come here?”
Luna’s smile broadened when the young srryn walked into the hallway; Cassie had thrown on one of Lori's 'suits', and looked scrumptious in a navy pinstriped jacket and matching mini skirt. The skirt was far too short to pass any corporate dress code, but Luna was thrilled to see her in it; getting fledgling srryns to wear any clothing was such a chore.
“Yes?” Cassandra said, and then smiled at the visitors. “Hey, Em, Maya. What are - M-merideth? Is that a gun?”
“We are here to save you.” Meredith lowered the revolver. “You have no idea what she truly is.”
“And we know what happened to you,” Maya said. “We know.”
“What ...happened to me?”
“Yes, Cody,” Emilie stepped forward. We know everything.”
“Wait a sec,” Cassandra said, “You think …I’m Cody? Seriously?”
Yes, seriously,” Maya answered. “He disappeared and you appear. Identical sketching and brush technique. Slips and hints you've dropped. Impossible as it seems, you were Cody Elias.
“Hmmm, interesting,” Cassandra cocked her head. “I'm sure Cody will think so too, since ...he's in the other room.”
“What?!” The three women said in unison.
“Yeah, he's just home from Vermont for a few,” Cassandra said. “HEY CUZ? CAN YOU COME HERE?”
“Jesus Christ! I'm not deaf, you idiot,” the young man said, as he walked into the hallway to join them.
“Cody!” Emilie stammered “…You are …not her …I mean …you are you …I mean-”
“-Hey, babe,” Cody answered. “When did you start the heavy drug use? After I dumped you?”
In a mere ten minute span, Cody:
-Announced he was here to tell Cassandra to get her freeloading butt out of his apartment because he was moving to Vermont,
-Insulted Maya by telling her he was studying with a real Artist genius, Catherine Kabe, of the Vermont Institute for Artistic Expression. He even quoted the tag line of Maya's rival - “each of my paintings is a snapshot of the ever evolving Me!”
and finally,
-Brought Emilie to tears by demanding she repay his loan, now, or he would sue.
Then he left, to spread his asshole-ish destruction elsewhere. Cassandra broke the stunned silence.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Cody Elias, in all his glory.”
The comments flew after that:
“So ...you are ...not ...Cody,” Meredith said.
“How could we ever dream of trying to save that dick head,” Maya screamed.
“Oh God! There's no way I can pay him back,” Emilie sobbed. “The money's gone, and I've already quit one of my jobs! I am so screwed!”
“There there, Emilie, is it? I have a solution,” Luna said. “That is, if you are quite through threatening me?”
Luna led the shell shocked women to her study and motioned them to sit.
As Meredith did, she realized she still held her gun. Red-faced, she slipped it into her purse. When she looked up, she saw Luna sitting at her desk with Cassandra behind her. And she remembered this was how Lori had been too, always at her side.
Luna pulled a checkbook from her drawer, scribbled on the top check, tore it from the book, and pushed it to Maya.
Maya gasped when she read it: “This is made out from Trend Magazine, LLC to my studio for …$150,000?”
“Excellent,” Luna said. “I was afraid my handwriting was illegible, but it appears it is not.”
“But …why?”
“Trend is ever looking for worthwhile -and tax deductible- community projects to sponsor. If that is not reason enough, then let us say I have a newfound love of the arts, and leave it at that,” Luna said, smiling at Cassandra.
“What am I to do with this?” Maya said.
“Use it as you need, mortgage payment, supplies, whatever. With the proviso that $15,000 of it is to be given as a scholarship to this young lady,” Luna motioned to Emilie, “to use as she deems necessary. I imagine she will want allocate some to the odious man who just left.”
When Emilie burst into tears again, Cassandra ran to her and hugged her.
“Why do you always turn on the water works when someone gives you money? Everything's okay now, right?”
“Yeah, sure. I wake up at the crack of dawn, meet up with Maya and Meredith and somehow concoct the insane idea you used to be your bastard cousin, we race here to rescue you armed with a cake and a gun, I run into said cousin, he demands I pay him or he'll break me, and then I get $15,000. And it's not even 9:00 yet!”
“Way too early to start drinking, right?” Cassandra said.
“Exactly, but we will be doing that later, girlfriend, if only to drown my embarrassment over this mess,” Emilie answered. “Hey! What about you? You're homeless now. If you need a place to stay, you are welcome.”
“Thanks, but, I'm moving in here. I accepted a job as Luna's personal assistant.”
“NO! Don't do it! You have no idea what she is, Cassandra! She will enslave you!” Meredith said. She turned to Maya. “She's buying you off, can't you see that?”
Maya glared at her, before turning to Luna. “I apologize for barging in uninvited. I let the insinuations of others, and my over-active imagination, get the better of my judgment. Again, thank you for your amazingly generous gift; why you aren't having us arrested instead is beyond me. Emilie, let's call a cab and be on our way.”
“Don't give it another thought, darling, and I would love to meet with you again, to discuss other ways Trend can assist; free publicity never hurts, hmm?” Luna said. “Only next time, I would appreciate it if you let me invite you over."
Maya nodded then looked at Cassandra. “Cassie, will this new job mean you won't be studying with me anymore? I would hate to lose you. You are one of the most talented students I've ever had, and-”
“-She most definitely will continue with you,” Luna said with a dismissive wave. “Be sure to let me know if she starts slacking.”
After they left, Meredith slumped in her chair. “What the hell just happened here? I was right! I had to have been right, right? ...I imagine this means I’m fired.”
She stood and walked to the penthouse main door. I …don’t know what to say …I-”
“-Meredith, darling, what am I to do with you? I really should fire you; you accused me of horrid actions, and, well, there is the whole problem about the gun…
On the other hand,” Luna smiled, “editors as hardworking, and inquisitive as you are impossible to find these days. And you did bring me a fabulous birthday cake, even if my hatchday was last week. So …let’s call it even.”
Meredith’s befuddlement was absolute. “I …uh …thank you …I think?”
“Oh, and Meri darling? You were right about some things,” Luna said. “Spot on.”
“Wait ...what? I was? Which ...parts?”
“Ah ah ahhh,” Luna said, wagging a finger at her.
For a moment, a split second, Meredith thought she saw a large alien creature before her with black-feathered wings spread wide.
But when she shook her head, all that remained was elegant Luna Longaine, winking at her.
She moved double speed to exit the penthouse, somehow managing not to scream until she reached the elevator.
16.
“Poor Meredith,” Luna giggled, dropping her human illusion. “She is such fun to screw with; at least I didn't have to wipe her memory ...again.”
She glanced to her srryn. “Be sure to compliment Jayden on his 'Cody' acting when he returns. He takes his human roles seriously and male lilim egos are egg-shell thin.”
“Was I ...really like that?” Cassandra's voice was soft.
“Hmm darling?” Luna said, dipping a long clawed finger into the birthday cake, and licking it with her split tongue.
“So ...mean, so ...thoughtless...”
“He played you a bit over the top, but...” Luna looked up from her cake nibbling. “What's wrong, Cassie? You are he no longer...”
Oh? What has changed? Everything, yes, but inside? I was that asshole only a few days ago.
Her srryn and human 'selfs' were aligning in purpose. She wanted Luna to be happy. She wanted, wished and desired it, and was past caring whether this was from brainwashing or forced genetics. But her human side worried.
Lori was loving and selfless. She was ...everything I'm not. There is more to being a srryn than feeding psi; how can I ever please my lilim as the first srryn did? How?
A thought came to her; there might be one way.
A srryn is helpful. A srryn would do anything to make her lilim happy. Anything
“Luna? I'll do that ritual thing where you talk to Lori. What was it called?”
“It is referred to as the Ingoccil Rite, the Surrender,” Luna's voice was reedy with excitement. “Cassie! It would make me so happy.”
Cassandra nodded; Luna's joyous expression had returned; this was the right thing to do.
The only thing.
“What do I do?”
“The middle skull there,” Jayden pointed to one. “You must hold it, look at the green light, and …let go.”
Sounds simple enough.
Cassandra walked to the skull and gave it an exploratory touch. No electrical shock, but the crystal did radiate heat. She took a breath and grasped it with her hands.
And nothing happened.
“Got nada here,” Cassandra said. “Is there something else I'm supposed to do?”
Jayden thought-accessed the 'computer' again, and this time Cassandra felt the skull pulse.
“The archives say the Ingoccil procedure is simple. The second srryn releases herself to the crystal and passes body control to the first srryn’s essence.”
“How ...do I do that?”
“I am not sure how to tell you, love,” Luna said, as she connected to the computer. “The srryn-ba must lapse into an altered state of consciousness, but our texts are tens of thousands of years old and hard to bring forward in modern human terms.”
Luna thought hard; how could this be done? What common reference did Cassandra have?
“Cassie, remember …in the museum, when we looked at Rembrandt's self portrait?”
“Yeah...” Cassandra said, not sure where this was headed.
"You mentioned how Rembrandt gave himself to the painting. Since your conversion, I see you doing the same with your art. I think ...this feeling is what is needed. Can you draw that mood up? Relive it?"
Give herself as she did with her paintings? Had she been? The energy swirls she saw in her Market Street painting returned to her mind, the feeling of formlessness, the connection.
The crystal flared green in her hands, and then, she was so so sleepy.
She murmured four words before she slumped into Luna's arms:
“I love you. Goodbye.”
17.
She drifted down and down,
until she saw a bright swirling sphere of energy filled with green and blue sparkles.
It's Lori's essence, it has to be! God, she is beautiful, no wonder Luna loves her. Where's my damn sketch pad when I need it?
*Lori?*
*I was ...I am Lori still. Who. Are. You?*
*I am ...not important. She longs for you, Lori. Go up.*
*Luna?*
*Yes. Go to her! She needs you. You must make her happy.*
*I want to! But how? I do not know where 'up' is.*
Cassandra wasn't sure how to point, for she lacked a body in her astral state. So she propelled her essence to surround the glowing entity before her, and then she gave it a massive shove ...up.
Lori's essence floated above her, higher and higher, and Cassandra would have given a joyous laugh if she had a mouth, or at least a wave good bye if she had a hand.
Instead she relaxed her mind. There was something else she needed to do.
*I think the trick to this is visualize what I want.*
Her artist's soul showed her what she wanted.
light,
When her srryn's eyes opened, Luna saw a familiar spark. And the voice coming from the srryn's mouth was modulated to a changed timbre. One she knew so very well.
“Luna? Jayden?”
“Lori!” Luna sobbed. It was her! Luna wanted to grab her and crush her in an embrace. But she couldn't risk breaking the srryn's connection to the skull. “Lilith this is wonderful beyond reason! I thought I'd lost you forever, my love!”
“You …did. Or almost… if” she blinked, trying to figure out which personal pronoun to use to describe the 'host' body she was in. I? She? We?
“…the …second srryn hadn't taken me, I would have faded. She saved me. What does this mean?”
“You will live, my love! As a ba-srryn, the two of you will continue past the end of the Second Turn. You will merge to become my Third Turn srryn.”
Her eyes glistened. “LUNA! ...this is a miracle! I will be there for the hatchlings. The second srryn and I together!”
Then as quickly as ecstasy filled the srryn's expression, Luna saw it morph to something very different.
“No! NO! Don't do it!” There was panic in Lori’s tone. “We have a problem!”
“What problem?”
“It's …the second srryn …she…no! STOP!”
“Stop what? What is wrong with Cassie?”
“Cassie is her name? I only know her by soul colors; Lilith she is beautiful. But …what did you do to her to make her do this?”
“Do what?” Luna gulped. “What is she doing?”
“She is trying to dissolve …to disband…”
“I don't understand, what you are-”
“-She's trying to give permanent control of this body over to me. She's trying to kill herself.”
“Kill herself? Lilith! Why?”
“She feels ...you would be happier with me as your srryn,” Lori's voice answered from Cassandra's body. “Why would she think so? I warned you about this! What did you do to her?”
“After your body burned away, we ran out of time and forced a jh'tiel conversion on her. After that I treated her horribly and-”
“-She's a jh'tiel? Lilith! She was male? Her soul essence is so feminine and fiery. I would have guessed musician or-”
“-She's an artist,” Luna answered, with pride in her voice.
“-LORI!” Jayden interrupted. “Can she kill herself? STOP HER!”
“I don't know if I can,” she said, closing her eyes. “I will try…”
“Please pleaser please, you must stop her, Lori!” Luna gripped her srryn's arm. “Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her I love her! And-”
“…you …do?” Cassandra's voice had returned to its higher pitch.
“C-cassie?”
“...I …guess. Lori threw some ...spiritual jujitsu on me and ...I don't have words to describe what happened, but...” Cassandra's lip quivered. “Why did she do that? You will be much happier with her as your-”
Luna clamped her hand over Cassandra mouth. “Don't you dare say those words, and never pull a stunt like this again, do you hear me?”
Cassandra bobbed her head; Luna looked pissed!
“This is your Turn! You are my srryn now. Not Lori, and not who the two of you will become. You!”
“Me?”
“Yes you, you stubborn little thing! You made me love you.”
Cassandra felt the affection in her words; saw the bright smile on her face.
“You really do?”
Luna knew the little srryn didn't yet believe her, so she must show her Cassie. Prove it to her.
And she would.
Again and again for the rest of our lives.
But for now, she gave the only answer she could; Luna took Cassandra in her arms...
...and kissed her … kissed her …kissed her.
18. Epilogue - Three months later
“Oh, and I sold another painting.”
“Which, the harbor or the rose garden?” Luna said.
“Harbor,” Cassandra said, looking up from her salad preparation.
She and Luna were in their kitchen preparing for guests. Jayden was in his study/lair, doing whatever male lilims did when they were conspicuously absent from work. Cassandra would have accused him of surfing the 'Net for lilim porn, but she was pretty sure none existed.
“They almost bought both.”
Luna sighed. “I'm going to miss that one. It is one of my favorites.”
Cassandra chuckled. “You say that about all my paintings.”
“It is always true, love, your work is amazing.” Luna said.
“They paid eight thousand! Maya smooozed ‘em big, telling them it was an investment, and someday, when I’m a famous artist, it will be worth a zillion times more,” Cassandra said. “I left the check on your desk.”
Luna gathered her srryn in her arms and kissed her head. “I am honored; thank you, darling,”
As her personal assistant, Cassandra was now aware of their vast fortune down to the last penny. But a srryn is hardwired to be helpful, and she knew how proud Cassandra was to contribute.
This was the reason she was having Cassandra make a salad. All their meals could be catered, but she learned long ago with Lori that it was good to have something on hand for the srryn to prepare; bags of salad, anything. Srryns had to be helping, or they became irritable.
“Enough small talk! What is this surprise you've been dangling in front of me for days. Tell me!”
“But then it wouldn't be a surprise, of course. Patience, srryn, you-” The door bell rang. “Ah! Your waiting is over. Be a dear and get that, Cassie.”
Luna smiled at the confusion crossing her srryn's face. Cassandra stopped her salad prep and put her hand on her hip.
“Luna? I'm …ya know …like this …so I'm pretty sure I shouldn't-”
“Oh, I think so, love,” Luna smiled.
This wasn't adding up. Guests were arriving. And she was dressed formally.
But …those concepts were mutually exclusive, right? Because, her formal srryn costume consisted of golden bracelets with tiny bells fastened to her ankles and wrists, a thin golden collar clasped to her neck, and …nothing else.
Also, Cassie was getting the strangest impulses from her soul mate, urges that were amping up her psi.
Okay, just why am I getting psi horny, Lori?
Cassandra could have sworn she heard a giggled response.
“Shoo srryn,” Luna said, waving her out of the kitchen. “Go play.”
Go play?
Her ankle and wrist bells chimed as she padded to the door. Through the peephole she saw a golden-dark young woman, wearing identical golden adornments. Another srryn! She opened the door.
Before she could wave 'hi' or speak a polite greeting, her srryn instincts drove her to kiss the woman. The other srryn responded in kind, and not with a light peck either. This was a tongue in mouth while groping smooch.
Without speaking, they clasped hands and walked down the hallway to Cassandra's room. Cassandra's goal was her day bed, but they made no more than two steps into the room before they fell to the floor and entwined.
“I'm Cherise,” the other srryn managed to whisper.
“Cassie,” Cassandra panted.
“I know. You taste divine. First time?”
“First time?”
“With another srryn? The buzz on the srryn grape vine is you are a srryn-ba! Didn't Lori prep you?”
Cassandra shook her head. “The message I got from her when I opened the door was 'standard visitation protocol.' When I asked what that meant, she said 'some things a srryn has to learn on her own.'
“Holy Lilith, she is in you! That is so her!” Cherise's amber eyes brimmed with tears. “She was my mentor for my first years.”
“And,” Cassandra's forehead wrinkled. “…she says you must be mine for my first …Gathering? Whatever that means.”
“I would be honored. Everyone’s gonna love you, sister. Now, listen up, newb, 'cause we need to get down to business. When lilim couples visit each other, there is the ever sticky psi feeding issue that must be addressed. Four lilim in a room is a dicey proposition; the couples must be psi sated to prevent any unfortunate draining incidents.”
“Yeah I can see that …so…”
“So standard protocol is for the visiting srryn to arrive first, and the two srryns …um …pleasure each other to ensure they are at maximum psi potential. Then the visiting couple arrives, and only after the lilims have psi fed can their meeting happen.”
Cassandra gave a lusty laugh. “We're having an orgy?”
“It might seem so to a fledgling, but you will think otherwise after your first Gathering; we have to arrive a day before the lilim meet. Only …there are 500 of us. In a vast room …playing…”
No words could come to Cassandra’s mind at that image, but her psi spiked several levels.
“Now, unless you have more questions, we should get to …mmmm …work.”
But Cassandra was already hard at work, biting and licking Cherise's hardening nipples.
Cassandra sat purring at Luna’s feet, her head on the lilim’s lap. Cherise was in much the same position across the living room floor with her lilim Kallista.
The male lilims paced the room exchanging pleasantries, the ‘how is ‘so and so’s and ‘have you heard’s.
This was the Ssthrg, the cherished time after psi feeding, when for a moment, the lilim, could come together as a people.
Nerseus nodded his head as he listened to Jayden. The younger lilim was gushing about his plans to present a srryn-ba research presentation at the next Gathering.
“Mmm, thanks for the surprise,” Cassandra murmured, still in the afterglow of the szen, “It was wonderful.”
“I am glad you enjoyed Cherise, darling,” Luna answered. “She was one of Lori’s closest friends. But she was not the surprise.”
Not the surprise? Cassandra pried an eye open. Then what is it?
“I am convinced, friend Jayden, she is a srryn-ba.” Nerseus said, and cleared his throat. “Luna, I am prepared to forgive your temerity.”
Temerity? This sounded serious. Cassandra sat upright.
Nerseus walked over to where they sat. “I have viewed her work and you are correct, she is most talented. She could do it.”
Do what? And …is he talking about my paintings? Cassandra scrunched her forehead trying to figure this out. She also detected his faint French accent.
“Oh yes, little srryn, I see your confusion. I am speaking about you. Your lilim ordered me to come here and threatened me if I didn’t. The idea! A Second Turn lilim giving orders to a Third Turner. What is next, an uprising of First Turners?”
Cassandra turned to Luna. “Um, Luna? What’s going on?”
Luna smiled. “If I am not mistaken, Nerseus has something to show you.”
Looking back to him, she saw he held a device in his hand; a silver headband with a large blue crystal fixed at the ‘third eye’ position.
“Cassandra, would you mind putting this on? We call it a Palaron viewer; do not fear, you will love this.”
“ ‘Kay.” Cassandra had no clue what was happening.
Images filled her mind immediately after he placed it on her head; she saw a 360o slide show of landscapes, spiraling buildings, lilims in flight…
…This was lilim art!
She couldn't categorize the images in human terms, the scenes and subjects were naturalistic with realistic elements, yet abstract and with Gothic undertones tones too. Those ideas had to conflict, except in these works, they didn’t.
More than anything, it was the 3D aspect of their art that blew her away. Lilim artists stepped into their paintings.
After several minutes, Nerseus removed the Palaron viewer. Cassandra blinked tears.
“Thank you, I’ve never …that was …I can’t find the words to describe it, except I’ve never seen such beauty.”
“Humans have nothing like it, and our art is especially moving to an artist such as you. You see, our art is dying; I am the last living lilim artist.”
“I’m so sorry!” Cassandra gripped his gray downed hand. “You cannot let it die.”
“I am pleased to hear you say it,” Nerseus smiled. “We are so few now, and my apprentice, she who was to carry on the unbroken line of master-apprentice, died unexpectedly two years ago. I have screened all surviving lilim, and found none who possess the talent to carry on the tradition. I announced this tragedy at the last gathering.”
Nerseus sat down beside her on the floor. “I would have screened srryns too, but their life spans are too short. It takes a full Turn to master our forms, and then another Turn, of course, to teach an apprentice. But now that we have a srryn-ba, with talent…”
Cassandra grasped it at last. “You want me to become your apprentice?”
Nerseus nodded his head. “If you are willing. Luna has agreed the three of you will move to France to be near me so you may begin your training.
Cassandra shot a look to Luna. You arranged this …for me?”
Luna nodded. “I think it high time I relocated Trend’s headquarters to Paris; we are a fashion magazine, after all.”
Cassandra’s heart was in her throat; to be able to learn this amazing art form, to master it…
“I understand the proprieties, of course,” Nerseus said. “Before any student agrees to study under a master, she needs to view his work and determine if he is worthy.”
Cassandra was about to tell him she didn’t need to judge his work, when his image rippled, and a dark bearded man with a black beret stood before her.
“A century or more ago, I wore this human guise in public,” Nerseus said, “where I gained some small notoriety as a painter.”
She knew this figure. He was …he was …It was on the tip of her tongue, and she gasped when it came to her.
“You’re …Claude Monet!”
He swept off his hat and bowed. “And I would be most honored to have you as my student. Together, we will keep lilim art alive. Will you do it?”
“Oh Lord! Oh Lilith! I’m going to study with Claude Monet?”
Emotion swept her away and she threw her arms around Luna and wept.
“Trá¨s bien,” Nerseus grinned. “I take that as a ‘oui’.”
“You can study with Maya for another half a year or so, and then we move,” Luna said. “I can even arrange for Emilie to come too and study with you for a few years if you want. Would this make you happy, love?”
“More than anything! But why? Why are you doing all this for me?” Cassandra sobbed.
The lilim grabbed Cassandra’s face and kissed it. “Because I love you, you silly srryn. I. love. YOU. And we will build such a life together! Do you hear me?”
“I hear you, I hear you,” Cassandra laughed, cried, and spluttered, somehow all at once, before she buried her head in Luna’s chest again.
“Thank Lilith that is settled,” Jayden announced. “I have had all the drama over the last few months I can stomach, and I’m only just into the second Turn. After I present my srryn-ba report at the Gathering, perhaps I shall re-enter the tumultuous European derivatives world for a breather. Heh.”
Luna cradled ‘her Cassie’ and looked at Kallista, who was stroking Cherise as well. Kallista shot her an eye roll back that said it all:
Male lilims; they don’t get it, and they never will.
Luna nodded and whispered, “Hey, Cassie, you've managed to become the first srryn-ba in ten thousand years and you are going to keep our art from dying. Do you think you can pull off a hat trick?”
When Cassandra blinked confusion, Luna nodded toward Jayden, who was once again regaling Nerseus with his lofty research plans.
“Do you think you could get it through our thick-headed Jayden to appreciate that everything he needs is right here?"
Cassandra looked at the male lilim, who was gesturing wildly with his arms and his wings to make some point.
“Sorry, Luna,” she shook her head. “I'm not sure Lilith herself could work such a miracle."
Memory and Memories
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
“Our lives are the sum of our memories.
Joshua Foer
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory”
Dr. Seuss
Memory and Memories - Part 1
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
Memory and Memories - Part 1
by Armond
“Our lives are the sum of our memories.
Joshua Foer
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory”
Dr. Seuss
Prologue
3rd day of the month of Rycdos, god of the harvest
1.
"If I made a sacrifice to Utos, ya think she'd go out with me then?"
Aesh flashed his hallmark 'prune face grimace' to his classmate. Anyone who knew the alquimista apprentice also knew exactly what it meant.
"As always, Pac, you think of everything in study hall... except studying."
'He could sacrifice all the pigs in Ogda to the god of fortune for all the good it would do him,' Aesh added mentally. 'The gods - if they exist at all - don't care one whit for humans.'
"And what will you sacrifice to him? Your virginity?" Aesh asked. "No, wait! You can't do that, ‘cause you're hoping to sacrifice that to sweet Lala Biddle."
"Shhhhhh! Don't say that out loud," a mortified Pac said, as he looked around the study hall nervously. “I'll catch so much hell if anyone finds out I'm a virgin."
"I won't bullshit you, my man, sex is fantastic, mind blowing, amazing..."
'Hmm, maybe I'm overdoing this a bit,' Aesh thought, as he saw Pac's mouth drop open. 'He's actually drooling!'
"...but it's not worth devoting your every wanking thought!" Aesh added.
Though Pac was his senior by half a dozen years, it often seemed to Aesh his twenty-six year old friend had the maturity of a toddler.
"...spare a thought to the Transmuting and Distilling text, and you might actually pass the exam tomorrow."
"You have the luxury to say that, since you aced it a year ago! You made the highest exam score on it...ever!" Pac wailed. “Everything comes easy to you! It's not fair!”
He'd always been jealous of Aesh; the young man seemed destined for glory. Pac wanted to hate him, but he couldn't, for Aesh was a genuinely good soul and a loyal friend, albeit one with a spicy tongue. Pac thought about storming away in a huff - as he often did - but then he considered the easy way Aesh had with the fairer sex. He hatched another plan.
"I know! Come with me tonight! You can hide close and whisper the sweet words to get me..."
"...into Lala's panties?" Aesh finished his thought.
"Well, yeah."
"Not a winning strategy," Aesh said, stopping himself from adding if he did that, Lala would more likely end up in Aesh's bed.
"You want to know the real secret to success with the fairer sex?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Pac exclaimed, clapping his hands. Finally 'Aesh the Impious' was going to share his magic words. "Please, oh please, oh please!"
"Gods! You are such a whale's anus sometimes. Show some self-respect, man," Aesh said. "Fine, listen up."
Pac literally fell to his knees before Aesh.
"One, be genuine. Be yourself. Can't stress this enough. Two, listen, listen, listen. Truly hear the woman, and be interested in what she has to say. Three, present yourself well. Look and dress sharp, and let her know you are a man with a plan for the future. For instance, to be able tell her something like 'I'm going to ace the Transmuting and Distilling exam tomorrow,' would be handy. Hence the need to study."
Pac's shoulders slumped when he realized no magic words were being passed to him.
"Pleeeeease come with me tonight," Pac begged.
"Can't, my friend, I have a prior engagement," Ashe said, with a wink.
Pac's jaw dropped as he imagined his friend's engagement, ending, -he was certain- in wild and epic debauchery.
'Would there be two women? Or three?'
***
In fact, Aesh's prior engagement had nothing to do with sex, but was instead a stealth 'breaking and entering' mission, into a professor's dorm quarters.
"Professor Breviar of Guilon."
Aesh read the name plate beside the door to the quarters. He added in a low whisper, "Edefia's most notorious professor."
He slipped the lock pick in, wiggled it about just so, pulled it out, and gave a satisfied 'heh' when the doorknob snicked open at his turn.
Looking first to his right and left down the dorm hallway, Aesh stepped in and locked the door behind him.
Breviar's quarters were just as Aesh had left them from his last ‘mission’, dusty and musty. Wasting no time, the young man stood straight to the professor's study and bookshelves.
During his last clandestine visits, he'd browsed the Handbook Of Sirin (boring and tedious), Fundamental Stories Of Arcane Holidays (interesting, but useless) and Unknown Transmutations (scary and fascinating). It was this third tome he wished to dig into more. He pulled it from Breviar's bookshelf, settled the manuscript on Breviar's dark oaken study desk, lit a single candle, and dove in.
An hour later and a third of the way through, Aesh discovered a loose note page hiding between two pages. With a quick read, the young alquimista confirmed it was written by Breviar's hand. The characters were neat and small, flowing down the front and back of the page.
'Maybe he was taking notes and accidentally left it here.'
Aesh was troubled by that thought; the chapter in which it was hidden dealt with the power of impure transmutations, an evil subject, to Aesh's mind.
He scanned the first few paragraphs. Blinked. Rubbed his eyes and read again. Slower this time.
"No! Is this a joke?"
The words Breviar had written were so wrong, so antithetical to the core alquimista philosophies, that Aesh wondered if it was a weird sort of code, the kind one needed to hold up to a mirror to get its reverse meaning.
As he moved to the next section, where the professor proposed a procedure to accomplish his theory, Aesh's face flushed hot in rage, and he let loose a blazing strings of curses, with the only non-expletive words in it being 'sphincter,' and 'diarrhea.' For he'd uncovered a monstrous plot.
"The Masters must see this at once!"
***
"...to the inescapable conclusion his serum could render all organic matter inert."
Aesh was well past his ‘mea culpa’ for breaking into the professor's quarters. And, while the masters he stood in front of weren't thrilled to learn of his skulking about, that was quickly forgotten when he began describing Professor Breviar's experiments.
"...Also, if my calculations are correct, even tiny serum amounts if exposed to air - or gods forbid - to fire, may have a devastating impact. If the professor used this reverse chrysopoeia process - he called it anti-alkahest, or anti life - in any significant quantities, the extermination range is ...unimaginable."
The meeting chamber, so often filled with Edefia students clamoring to learn, was pin drop silent. The masters had passed around the notes Aesh found, each turning pale as he digested their meaning.
They didn't doubt Aesh's conclusions either; for the young man was a prodigy; he almost solved the Alquimista Puzzle with his last attempt, and they fully expected he would on his third try and graduate a master. This would be unprecedented. No one in their history had ever solved their famed puzzle box in less than seven attempts.
"We must find him and discretely bring him back," Headmaster Dolan said, breaking the silence.
"What?! No!" Aesh exclaimed. "We must warn the leaders of the Seven Kingdoms about this and-"
"-That is exactly what we will not do!" Master Dolan, hissed, cutting him off.
"Such would destroy our reputation! Worse, the rulers might even seek to disband our schools! Brand us as terrorists. The Alarians would love nothing more. No, this must be handled with the utmost delicacy. Tell no one! We will form teams and fan out into the Seven Kingdoms, seeking this rogue and dragging him to the university."
"Seriously?! That's absurd! And what if he doesn't want to come back? What will we do when-"
"-Silence, Aesh. We are indebted to you for discovery, but you will do as I have said. You will team with Master Bexon. Pack and begin your search for Professor Breviar at once."
"The hells with our reputation," Aesh muttered, "Breviar poses a threat to life itself."
...to be honest, Aesh muttered other words, but those blistering adjectives and nouns were all unprintable.
2.
The Qyrc Wilds, at the southern edge of the area henceforth to be known as 'The Dead Zone.'
"You... you've returned"
"You seem disappointed."
The man swung his legs off his mount. Once on the ground, he knocked the dust from his tunic. He walked, stumbling slightly, to the one seated on a tree stump next to a canvass tent.
His employer. The man known as Blood Burn.
"On the contrary. Another data point," Blood Burn said. "Did you happen to find any others there? A fella named Ballista, or another called Tusk?"
"I saw nothing. Neither bird, nor beast nor plant. Miles and miles of silence and desolation. It is a place of death."
"There is purity in what you witnessed. A perfection. You are a lucky man, Tyran. Do you need water? You look unwell."
"What I need are the hundred pieces of gold you... you..."
Suddenly, Tyran's eyes rolled back into his head, showing only whites now. He lurched forward in a stagger, his arms flailed once, and he fell face first into the dust with a thumpf.
A high pitched keening sound emanated from his body, like the flapping of a thousand locust wings. Then, his skin, organs and blood fell away from his bones, dried and granular, like sand. A sharp wind blew from the south, sending his dust back into the dead area.
Blood Burn looked over at Tyran's mare; she showed no signs of weakness.
He pulled a writing charcoal and manuscript from a nearby pack, flipped open to a blank page, and wrote:
'At seven weeks, the serum dissipates at edge of zone. Suspect serum remains active at epicenter.'
"All this from one drop! If I could produce a cup of the serum, and activate it through ignition, then the zone of impact would be..."
Blood Burn did the calculations in his head; he smiled when he came to the conclusion.
"...everywhere in the Seven Kingdoms!"
But it had taken every pence and penny of his savings to fund the production of this tiny amount.
He wanted - no, needed - to make more. So much more. He wanted to make the world perfect.
"I need a benefactor."
He knew where to get one, too.
'Glesea.'
After he fled the university those months ago, he followed a different career to raise money. He hired his services out to the highest bidder. Those services earned him his new name, too, for he crafted the deadliest of diseases and poisons. He learned during those months just where those shadowy bidders could be found.
'For it is said, you can buy or sell anything imaginable at the Glesea docklands, for a price.'
3.
Shea wrapped her midnight hair into a bun and pinned it up. Glesea was leagues and leagues away from Imis, across the Serene Sea, and Shea learned long ago with her mother that comfort trumped fashion when traveling.
Or at least she thought she had. It was hard to tell now with so many memories gone.
She turned and faced her flat's floor-length mirror. The reflection staring back showed a nondescript traveler, grayish cloak and hood, and worn leather boots.
The mirror successfully hid the Alarian 'elf woman' underneath the disguise.
"Good. No, adequate," she spoke aloud, then quickly amended. Her Caxenar training forbade overconfidence.
"Glad ta meet ya," Shea said to her mirrored reflection, "The name's Shyilia, from Crioca. Blade fer hire if'n ya have any messy jobs what needs fixin."
"Hmmm. I'll need to work on that," she assessed critically.
There was no disguising her excitement. Her aunt told her the Arch Duchess herself had requested Shea for this mission. di'Sona was confident Shea was up to the task - tracking the human known as Blood Burn, who was suspected of creating an unimaginably powerful weapon, if intel from the Qyrc Wilds was correct. He was sighted in Glesea only days ago.
This was what she'd trained for. Sacrificed for. To do something important. Something that made a difference.
"Something Mother wouldn't understand. Speaking of… one last memory."
Shea knelt to the floor, fumbled around a bit, found the plank she sought, and pressed it in the secret pressure points that popped open the hidden floor space. Reaching in, she pulled out the silver necklace chain which held her memory crystal. It pulsed and swirled with warm hues.
Shea's hand itched to grab it and press it to her temple, to pull the memories it held back into her mind.
Her most precious life memories.
Of her mother.
She stopped.
"After the mission. Then I will. And I will find her. And we will talk. After."
The centuries-old Caxenar Cleansing ritual was a pillar of her training in the Shadow Arts. It's purpose, simple but brutally effective was, that a spy should have no emotional ties to compromise her.
A simple thing, to think of a memory and touch the crystal to the forehead, yet it was by far the hardest part of a spy's training. Most failed this test.
Not Shea.
She'd followed the ritual explicitly - she remembered her strongest, most poignant ones, pressing the crystal's tip to her forehead to remove each one. Shea graduated at the top of her class. She hadn't emptied herself of all her memories of her mother; that would be foolish, leaving her weak and stupid. No, the young Alarian had methodically sifted through her mind and soul, choosing memories that defined their love.
"One more to go."
Shea had saved her memory of their last meeting. Their argument, their parting.
It motivated her.
But now, before this mission, it too must go.
The stone flashed briefly.
Shea lowered the glowing crystal back, hiding it once more under the plank and stood.
"I'm ready."
4.
"One madman makes many madmen: many madmen make madness."
"But Paridala, revered one, the Keoba King will pay twenty gold bars for a reading," the gypsy man said, trying so hard to keep his exasperation hidden. Turning down the largest fee they had ever been offered -that any gypsy clan had, he suspected- by babbling a cryptic quote was not helping his efforts.
"Twenty! This Millcrest trip can surely wait until after?"
'Santini is a devoted grandson and skilled leader of our clan,' Aliana thought, 'still he has much to learn; he lacks in what is truly important.'
"-Pfft. The cards, my visions and dreams are not interested in gold, young pup. We go to give a reading to one more cocksure than even you, if such is possible."
"How will I explain this ‘going to Yaran to earn handfuls of coppers’ instead of ‘Keoban gold bars’?" Santini asked, waving his arms. "How do I answer our clan's anger?"
"Their anger?!" Aliana spit on the ground. "It is nothing! Tell them we go hungry if we stop honoring the cards. The anger of man is fleeting. Fear only the wrath of the gods."
"Ah! They will understand this. We go to appease an angry god,"
Santini had lived with his grandmother long enough to know that appeasing deities always seemed to end profitably.
"Among other dire portents I have seen, yes. A vengeful goddess. She is cosmically pissed."
Chapter 1
1.
4 weeks later - the 2nd day of the month of Jeuna, goddess of penance.
"I bear news, Empress."
The wizard bowed low and tried not to shake; he feared this would not end well.
She rose from her throne, her eyes growing black.
"It failed."
"You know?"
"No, but you reek of fear," the woman answered, shaking her head. "And what could make a wizard as mighty as Palenor quiver like a rabbit before the wolf? Why, having to report failure to his Empress. Speak."
"The spy we captured in Glesea a fortnight ago, died before infecting the people of Imis."
"Died? Sheala Faeyra died???" The sorceress' voice was a high screech. "I was assured she be unharmed! This. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen!"
The woman's eyes blazed red. She raised her right hand, and with a single spoken word, fire poured from it, engulfing Palenor in flames. His screams echoed the hallways as he ran, trying to reach the fountain in the courtyard outside.
He didn't make it.
"Bring the Archanist to me now," she screamed to the captain of her guard.
"I'll see to it, personally."
Normally, the captain would have delegated the messenger task, but just now he was more than happy to – hopefully - be out of her death-dealing range.
"And have someone clean up that mess. It stinks of burned flesh."
Within a few minutes, a man shuffled in, bookended between two armed guards; the prisoner's feet were manacled, but the iron ankle cuffs and chain were hidden by the floor length red robe he wore. His hood was up, causing shadows to obscure his face.
"You. Blood Burn! You swore she wouldn't die from the disease."
"If you had waited to hear the rest of the report, you'd have learned she didn't. She was killed by a knife through her heart."
"She was never supposed to die!"
The woman was silent for several minutes, her face growing grimmer with each tick of the clock.
"This will bring her mother into it," the sorceress hissed.
"I thought this part of your plan folly,” Blood Burn responded. “Why bother with the release of a watered down plague when the antipodal chrysopoeia is a thousand times more potent?"
"Silence!"
The woman then motioned to her captain again, who stepped forward quickly.
"Perhaps I was hasty, my Captain, was there more to wizard Palenor's report?" She sighed when she saw how pale the man had become. "C'mon, man, find your stones!"
"Yes, Empress," the man straightened to his full imposing 6' 5" height and cleared his throat. "The spy's flat in Imis was also searched, and in a hidden space under a floorboard, a glowing crystal was found."
"Her memory stone? ...at least there is that! Bring it to me! Let none touch it, for it brings madness and death to any who does save its owner."
"Yes, Empress, this has been learned already," the captain said, "by several wizards."
"Excuse me, Empress," Blood Burn said, sensing the woman's mood had risen. "I could craft another plague for Alari."
"It takes months, yes? Now Isaura will start sniffing around, so time is not our ally. Once the other kingdoms submit, Alari will see the folly of standing alone."
The woman motioned to her captain once more. "Summon the pirate Angrove. Gather my wizards. Bring the remaining six vials. We leave at dawn."
"I am to sail with you?" the red robed man asked.
"We have many ports to visit; this is your chance to see the world, Archanist," the woman answered. "And of course, I can't leave you here. There is no telling what trouble you may concoct in my absence."
"The true plague is quite safe from me," Blood Burn said. "From everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, including the goddess even. Everyone save you. You've seen to that. You have robbed the world of perfection. Why won't you leave me be?"
"Because you are insane," she answered. "And the insane can cause such mischief if not watched."
"Insane? How so? All I seek is to remedy-"
"-Life's imperfections," she interrupted. "Yes, yes. You've explained. Many times."
"But how does this make me insane?" he asked, truly perplexed. "Or why are you not also 'insane' then? You seek to rule the Seven Kingdoms to bring order to the chaos and imperfections you see. Are not our goals similar? How are we different?"
"The difference is very simple, my dear Archanist. Yes, people will deem me mad for attempting to subjugate all other kingdoms under my rule. But when I'm successful, I will control the narrative, and history shall remember me as a savior."
"On the other hand, if you, are successful, history won't remember you at all. It won't even exist. For every plant and animal in the Seven Kingdoms shall have perished."
2.
The 21st day of the month of Jeuna
Imis
"I have gifts for you, dearest Sis."
Isaura didn't open her front door. She couldn't summon the energy.
"I want nothing from you, save Shea's memory crystal. She had one yes? It was part of her hideous Shadow training."
"True, but that hasn’t been found. Even if it had, well you know it would do you no good, for only Shea could touch it. Madness comes to anyone else. No, I have better gifts. Gift one, your daughter's murderer."
"What?"
Isaura flung open the door. The sisters faced one another, each pushing dominance into the other's eyes. Old habits. Hate, love and hate again, such history, such memories they had! Allies, yes, but just as often, bitter foes.
So alike in appearance, each possessing immortal Alarian beauty: unblemished olive skin, naturally rose red lips and haunting ice blue eyes. But for Isaura's smaller stature, and her midnight black hair to di'Sona's ginger, they could be twins.
Isaura yielded, too dead inside to engage in an extended test of wills. She staggered a step back into her flat, allowing the taller sorceress to enter, followed by a petite Alarian girl of no more than sixteen years, Isaura guessed.
"Kneel," di'Sona ordered, and the girl dropped to her knees.
Isaura avoided di'Sona's eyes, careful to mask her confusion. Decades of habit: never give a Faeyra family member an advantage or weakness to exploit. Yet... the girl before her was so slight, she wondered if a brisk ocean wind would carry her away.
"Her?"
'Her????' Isaura's mind screamed. 'How in the name of Aana could she kill Sheala?'
For when Shea left her...
'That day we fought ...said things we couldn't take back...'
...she ran away, to the Khedel Empire, Isaura later learned to her dismay, to study the Shadow Arts under Caxenar's dark priests. She didn't think she could be more devastated than when she learned Shea had graduated, with honors, for she knew the Caxenar rituals. She knew what that meant.
But she was wrong; news of Shea's death was a thousand times worse. The day Shea died was the day her heart turned to stone.
'How could one skilled in the Shadow Arts be killed by this waif?'
Yet di'Sona confirmed it with a nod, a snide smile playing on her face. They were so skilled in reveling in the other's pain, a talent practiced to the extreme by her 'loving' parents. Isaura ignored her sister's amused expression, focusing instead on the girl.
Conflicting emotions bubbled in her chest. First: searing anger. But also...
'...there is something about her... She reminds me of ...of...'
Isaura shook her head in self disgust.
'Compassion for Shea's killer? I will strike her dead! But first…'
"...I need facts!"
Isaura circled the kneeling girl, once, twice, taking her time, breathing in every detail.
She saw much now that she looked, much that was missing at first glance - here was intrigue. Deceit. All she hated. All she left Alari for.
'And my little girl is dead. Her soul, gone from the Seven Kingdoms.'
Isaura drifted to the open window of her flat to gaze on the harbor. Pulling back the cowl of her robe, she breathed the salty ocean air.
Hemm's Bay was quiet during the winter season, as the trading ships of the other six kingdoms stayed closer to their home ports to avoid the winter storms. A cool evening breeze caressed Isaura's face, and rays from the sunset made her raven black hair glow silvery.
"She loved the winter season most as a child, the bright Yuletide festivals and scrumptious feasts," Isaura spoke, to the wind, and sea below.
'Oh daughter! If I could make Ananke move her spindle back to then, I would do so many things differently. But the gods never give us second chances. We are cruelly sentenced to relive the memories of our sins, again and again.'
"We are ever prisoners to our memories," she sighed. Her heart was gashed and torn, and maybe would be forever. The long roads traveled had taken their toll, too. She had just returned to Imis last night after a year's absence.
'Returned to this... abomination.'
The girl was barefoot, and clad only in a gray cotton tunic. Isaura's trained vision detected more.
'Wrapped about her body - the strangest of magicks! Fading, but still there...'
The girl's dulled sunken eyes showed no spark behind them, only animal like dumbness; telltale signs the infamous iron collar circling her neck had done its work. The magical atrocity called the Torc of Penance.
Isaura strode again in front of the girl, grabbed her face, and jerked it upward.
"Creature, speak your name?"
"Aesh the Alquimista."
"You killed my Sheala?"
"Yes."
Her voice was as hollow as her eyes.
"Why?"
"She made me."
"Where are you from?"
"Ogda."
That stopped her; Ogda was the smallest of the Seven Kingdoms, and by historical accounts, the most peaceful. They were not known for producing violent criminals, least of all assassins. Nor soldiers for that matter; the kingdom was still rebounding from the terrible 'Black Death' that decimated the population some twelve years ago.
'Nothing makes sense!'
First, to her knowledge, no Alarians lived in Ogda. Second, there was the fishy remnant of peculiar magic encircling her. And finally, her male name.
"What should I do with you?"
"Kill me."
'Was there remorse in her tone then? No, I'm imagining.'
Isaura looked at her sister. "What is this, di'Sona?"
"Maddening is what it is. After weeks of intense interrogation using the legendary Torc no less, this thing is the sum total of what we could gather from Shea's mission," di'Sona said. From her robes, she withdrew a thin cane.
"Oh, we learned ever so much about the assassin's cover story, of Aesh's so called life as a devoted little alquimista from some quaint town in Ogda whose name escapes me. About a quest to find a missing professor, a tarot reading in Millcrest predicting he would find - brace yourself - the Queen of Wands. And of course, no quest story could be complete without the 'world will end if I fail' part. Bah! Yet even the Torc -the Torc!- failed to produce intelligible answers."
di'Sona began snapping the cane against her palm.
"She even tossed in 'the plague' for good measure, saying Shea suffered from a variant of it. As if an Alarian could be afflicted with a human disease. Quite a performance."
"I take it you found no evidence of sickness then," Isaura asked, her voice dull again.
She had felt the exact moment of her daughter's passing, even though she'd been half a world away. But since then, though, all feelings fled her. No, that was not right; it would be more accurate to say her emotions had been locked tight inside her.
"The only thing we found was a knife through Shea's heart, and nothing, -nothing!- of what Shea found nor why the creature murdered her. The fool said she'd never seen Shea until the moment she ran her dagger into her heart. Some greater magic is at work, I tell you, if the Torc didn't work. I failed, and I hate to fail!"
As she barked the word 'hate', di'Sona smacked the cane across the girl's face. Though her cheek welted angry red, the girl uttered no sound.
"Stop!" Isaura ordered; even though this creature killed her daughter, something troubled her about di'Sona's cruelty, and the girl's helplessness to stop it.
'Too much information and far too fast.' Isaura gathered herself mentally. 'Time to back up and disassemble this. Let's start with the obvious.'
"Is it not forbidden for the Torc to be used on any but the most depraved criminal? And is it not true the cursed device's power only works upon our people?"
"Impressive, Isaura! You've already discovered she wasn't originally of our race! You are a worthy rival! But in all bodily respects she's Alarian now."
"She?" Isaura's eyebrow raised high. "Aye, now, but not when my daughter was killed."
"Well done, you," di'Sona applauded. "I am well-matched! You see all, the she who was a he. I'm surrounded by such idiots, I forget what it's like to converse with an equal. Simply miraculous, is it not? I'm sure I've never heard of such a thing before. I did think the magical traces would have faded in almost three weeks’ time, but I see I'm wrong. My error amuses me."
"Your error amuses you? What does that even mean?" Isaura shook her head, refusing to let her sister's breathtaking self-absorption distract her.
"The Torc is a supremely cruel and inhumane creation. Why did you do this? There were other ways..."
"True, I could have used any number of mundane torture devices," di'Sona said, with a wink, "but the Torc is a rush!"
"Gods damn it!" Isaura exploded, "we are talking about the death of my daughter and the shredding of another's free will. Please tell me this isn't about your fetishes."
The ginger-haired woman stepped to the center of Isaura's drawing room, all hints of humor gone from her face.
"I ever remember, Sister, that even as wee ones, you strove to cast me in the role of villain, all evil and ambition," di'Sona's purple robe rustled as she stood to her full six foot height.
"Oh stop! It wasn't me who made your childhood a living hell, Sis. Thank Elasha for creating those sweet memories. I let you be."
"You didn't protect me."
"No one protected me, either. Neither mother nor father, and certainly not you!"
"Even so," di'Sona sighed, "I don't understand why we are always cross-purposed. Like you, I seek neither power nor gold. And like you, my goals are to serve our goddess and to protect our people."
"Priestesses hear confessions, Sister, I care not what your goals are," Isaura placed a hand on her hip. "Why. Did. You. Do. This?"
"I could say, 'to avenge Sheala.' I loved her dearly, and thought her aunt ought to, since her own mother couldn't be bothered to break from her self-aggrandizing travels-"
Hot yellow witch fire ignited around Isaura's right hand, and she pointed it palm up at di'Sona.
"-I came from across the Seven Kingdoms as fast as I could. Now... Why. Did. You-"
"-Hold!" di'Sona raised her hands defensively. "Hold, and I will tell you. Much as I would like to know which of us is stronger, tonight I am not your enemy."
The fire receded to a flickering glow around Isaura's hand, and she lowered her palm a little.
"Speak."
"May we sit? This will take some explanation. There is more at play here than, how did you describe it? My fetishes."
Isaura sighed, lowered her still glowing hand further, and nodded. She walked to a couch, removed a dust cover and tossed it aside. The rest of her furniture remained draped, as she'd just returned from her latest journey to their home kingdom, Thyli Alari. She'd mostly stayed away from their country's capital since her estrangement from Shea.
Satisfied, Isaura nodded to di'Sona. Once each sat at opposite ends, Isaura raised an eyebrow and tilted her head toward the kneeling figure.
"What of her?"
"Oh, you mean to sit with us?" di'Sona chuckled and shook her head. "She's alive in the barest of terms. She has no idea whether she's standing or kneeling; sitting would be meaningless also."
For some reason, that brought Isaura's grief and anger hot to the surface again. "Your explanation? Begins NOW."
"It was the end of the month of Rycdos, and Shea was several weeks into a mission to Caphila..."
"Caphila? Why was she there?"
"Arch Duchess Myantha herself gave the assignment, to investigate the movements of a human we designated as a 'person of utmost interest': the man known as The Blood Burn Archanist. He'd been on our watch list for some time-"
"-Did you ask her..." Isaura pointed to the kneeling girl, who, she noticed, was starting to drool, "...what she knew of this Blood Burn human?"
"Of course I did," di'Sona answered in a condescending tone. "She said she had no knowledge of him, absurdly claiming she was tracking another, a professor of some sort. Arrrgh! Using the full might of the Torc, she still failed to give us any actionable intel as to Blood Burn's whereabouts. Such an irksome little excrement."
The cane twitched in di'Sona's hand; if the girl had been closer, the girl would have received another sharp whip across her face. Isaura gathered it was a reflex action in her sister toward the girl. For some reason, that also bothered Isaura.
"Anyway, we'd heard reports of a bizarre weapon this Blood Burn was experimenting with somewhere in the Qyrc Wilds. When we learned he'd been seen in Glesea seeking a backer, we sent our best field agent, to gather information. We sent Shea-"
"-into danger? Your own niece?" The hurt and anger were raw in Isaura's voice.
"She left you because you stifled her. Forced her to trail around the world after you, as you snatched glowing trinkets and scraps of musty paper. She wanted to benefit someone beyond herself. I encouraged her to follow her own path and fly-"
"-to her death!"
"Not the time for this argument," di'Sona gave a dismissive hand wave. "Suddenly, Shea sent a cryptic message: she was nearby and needed to 'come in from the cold' to pass urgent news she had of the Archanist. We set a time and place and I had my best security team with me. As we neared the agreed rendezvous in Fayhold Park, my archer Gwyn Valstina and I heard her shouting."
di'Sona stood and began pacing.
"We ran as fast as we could. Gwyn knocked and fired an arrow the moment we came close to where she struggled with her killer; it pierced his black heart a moment too late. He slumped over Shea's body, knife in hand still dripping with her blood."
"I... don't understand..." Isaura looked at the girl, then di'Sona. "How she is here when you just said he was slain?"
"Almost slain," di'Sona said. She stopped pacing, and ran a hand through her rich red hair, smoothing it, before she smiled.
"In my panic for a solution, I beseeched Ymra."
"You invoked her???"
Isaura blanched at the mention of the dark deity's name. Asking any god or goddess for help was folly, but Ymra? It would be better to ask an earthquake to aid you than the goddess of destruction and transformation.
"Sister, you are an idiot."
"He killed Sheala! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"And I will kill you, if you ever say that again."
"You can try," di'Sona shrugged. "Anyway... I felt he must possess the critical knowledge Shea sought to pass to us. Her spirit had already fled her body, yet though mortally wounded, I sensed his remained. Healing was impossible for such a grievous wound, but in my haste I thought, what about a transformation? Legends of the Yaran werefolk and their miraculous ability to heal their wounds with a shift sprang to mind. True, it was a reckless gambit, to call Ymra, but I did, begging the goddess change him into an Alarian..."
"And the goddess..." Isaura didn't dare speak Ymra's name, instead staring at the girl again, "...answered?"
"Obviously," di'Sona smiled again. "And did as I asked, to transform him-"
"-into an Alarian girl. Whoa. Wait, wait, wait!"
Isaura stood and started to pace; apparently a family trait.
"Exactly how many times have you invoked a deity, and been answered?"
"This is the first time I've been answered," di'Sona frowned. "But I fail to see what that's-"
"- I mean I get why you did it, you wanted him to live, so you could question him for information critical to our kingdom, and to do get those answers, you believed he must be Alarian to be susceptible to the Torc."
The Torc of Penance.
Isaura wanted to spit to get the taste of the word from her mouth. Such a sickly named thing; a hideous magical relic from an evil bygone age.
Created during the time of the Blood Wars that decimated the Seven Kingdoms, it was, simply, an ancient torture tool of corruption. Its creator was an enemy mage whose name the world no longer remembered and he forged it in a way that made it only work on the Alarians.
By all accounts, the collar devoured the free will of the Alarian wearer, leaving a docile fool, unable to refuse any command; even if that command meant betraying one's people ... or her mother ... or her child.
Eimear the Holy captured the hellish device at the Battle of the Bleak Steppes, praise the goddess, and the Alarians had kept it safe in the centuries since. Their rulers decided the Torc would be used on the Alarians’ most wretched, depraved and murderous criminals only, yet rumors of its use beyond these bounds were whispered every century or so. Isaura fought for decades for its destruction, but always her sister wormed her way into the ear of whoever ruled Alarian people to convince them otherwise.
'The perfect interrogation tool, in di'Sona's mind,' Isaura thought bitterly. 'Is it all that surprising the power rush from using it is the sort of thing that gets her off?
Isaura once heard the saying, 'A person's character is his destiny’. But she now thought the saying told only half of it, for was it not also true that a person's character is the sum of his memories? di'Sona's childhood memories were all anchored in cruelty - she was tortured mercilessly by Elasha before she could walk, and has been paying the world back ever since. Now she was using one of the most evil devices ever created to continue to exact her revenge.
'But' Isaura paused, 'this one time, isn't it justified? Doesn't Shea's killer deserve this punishment?'
This still begged one huge question in Isaura's mind:
"Why? Why change her into to a girl? Why not simply into an Alarian man?"
"I didn't!" di'Sona answered. "Ymra's mysterious ways, not mine; my invocation only specified species, not gender."
"And you see nothing strange about this? You invoke the goddess of destruction and transformation ...on a whim ...and she answers you, for the first time in your life! How many times as a child did you pray to any god or goddess listening to strike Elasha down?"
Before di'Sona could answer 'countless times,' Isaura continued, "No, I'll go further than that - for the first time in what, centuries? - a deity has directly intervened in world events, and what does she do? She miraculously changes someone's species and gender, - again, for the first time in... in... history! - and you find nothing astonishing about that? Ho hum, just another day at the palace for my little sis."
"Oh, it was quite astonishing to see: bones reforming, skin rippling, things disappearing and others appearing. Messy too, definitely not a sight for the squeamish. Shame she wasn't conscious to feel it, but ...look, dear, it really doesn't matter what sex she is now, and it certainly won't in a very few moments."
With that the ginger-haired sorceress rose and walked behind the kneeling girl. Pulling a tool from a robe pocket, she snicked something on the rusty collar, and with a *click* it sprung open. di'Sona straightened again and walked to Isaura's front door.
"Wait!" Isaura called, confusion falling on her once more. "Why did you... where are you going?
"To bed. I'm very tired; family reunions are so fatiguing. But first I need to deposit this little gem," di'Sona twirled the rough iron collar before making it vanish into one of her hidden robe pockets, "back into the armory vault before it causes any more mischief. I thought you'd like some quality alone time with this creature."
"Remember what our history tomes tell us, love: the wearer continues to obey commands even after its removal, for her will has been ripped from her soul. Feel free to question her further. Or do whatever else you wish with her. I certainly have. Be creative; she'll do anything you ask. Anything. Take your most delicious revenge. Have fun! But don't dawdle; the tomes also say the wearer never lives beyond a few hours of the Torc's removal."
Isaura's gaze returned to the kneeling girl, and her jaw dropped, as the implications set in.
"Gift number two, and the real purpose of my visit, Sis. Enjoy," di'Sona blew a kiss from her red lips before she disappeared out Isaura's door. "You'll have the pleasure of watching the murderer of your daughter die. And people say the Faeyra sisters don't love each other."
They were alone now, the sorceress with her daughter's killer. A bleakness that can only come from a mother's loss of her baby overwhelmed her soul. She stared, and watched.
And when the kneeling girl's body spasms started and her eyes rolled back into her head, Isaura smiled.
Chapter 2 - The Cavern of Dearmad
1.
The Aalt Gorge.
21 days later. The 12th day of the month of Jeddos, god of winter
The sudden groan of a wagon wheel jostled Isaura from her daze. She sighed as she looked at where the sun hung, low on the horizon; time to stop for the night. It was deceptive; she'd wanted to make it to the Falls tonight, and she could hear them now. But they'd been traveling north all day and were still an hour or more away; Sapphire Falls was simply that massive.
No, best to make camp here, even if the Aalt Gorge's sheer edge wasn’t far away. The nearby birch and aspen offered respite from the north wind, even with half their yellow and orange leaves stripped from their branches...
'How I miss the golden Eemen trees of Alari...' The sorceress sighed at the thought.
Also, a small gurgling tributary stream rushed nearby, offering clean cold water. As soon as she spotted a stretch of ground that was mostly flat, she would park the wagon.
'Wagon' wasn't the best way to describe it, perhaps. The gypsies called it a 'vardo', a home-on-wheels. Isaura's vardo had a stove for warmth and cooking, if a campfire wasn't an option. One the left side, along with the stove, it had two closets, and a small table that served as both desk for Isaura's research and for dining. On the other side were bunk beds, one for Isaura, the other had been Sheala's for many years.
Painted in bright reds and greens and highlighted with gold leaf, Isaura's 'bow top' vardo was just as garishly decorated as any genuine gypsy vardo. This suited her just fine, since this was the disguise the sorceress loved most in her travels throughout the Seven Kingdoms.
Isaura wasn't in the mood for the role of traveling gypsy fortune teller today. Playing a crafty soothsayer used to be fun, when Shea traveled with her many years ago. But she doubted it would ever be fun again. Because of the vile thing who sat in the wagon behind her. The one she had decided to call...
'Ashe.'
Even thinking the name was a knife slash to her heart.
She didn't know why she'd picked it for the girl. She knew her real name -Aesh- but an intuition told her the thing needed another. But why this one?
Aesh, was a male name used singularly in Ogda. Ashe was so phonetically close, maybe the girl wouldn't even notice? To be honest, Isaura hadn't seen her noticing anything, but how could she know for sure if the Torc's damage was total and permanent? At the least, the name wouldn't draw questions on the trail.
'And, thank the gods and goddesses for small favors, her bizarre gender switch isn't an issue,' Isaura thought. 'For the little of her mind left by the Torc, she might as well have been a frog.'
"But ...Ashe," Isaura spoke to the nearby trees. "Why did I choose that?'
Was it something more than changing a few letters? Did the name represent what the creature was to Isaura?
Ashes and death. Death and ashes. Death of her Sheala. Ashes the remains of her heart.
Thinking this way, the sorceress could barely bring herself to look at the girl. Every so often she found elf fire circling her right hand; the deadly energy rose with a mind of its own, wanting to release on the girl. Each time she forced her hand back, and willed the energy to dissipate.
"That may be the way of the Faeyra," she admonished herself, "but it is not the way of Aana."
They rode on, Zinjo scouting ahead, she in the wagon seat, the hated thing huddled within, dumb, staring. Isaura's keen elven ears heard many things as they rode, the clinking of the wagon, the wind through the trees, the roar of the Falls in the distance, and her echoing thoughts, of this thing she'd named 'Ashe'. She picked at the thought like a scab.
'Did I choose 'Ashe' because of the sound it makes?'
That almost felt right; the "shhh" sound, an admonishment to silence; she never wanted to hear the murderous thing speak.
Isaura shrugged, defeated. "Whatever the damned reason, it needed to be called something."
Because, contrary to di'Sona's claim, Ashe hadn't died after her sister removed the Torc. She came razor close for sure; after a half hour, her body started to spasm, and she wretched and puked what little food she had in her stomach. A vicious fever fired her body and she lay in a coma for days...
...but didn't die.
Her little sister was the most disappointed, and not solely from a sense of injustice on Shea's behalf, though to her credit, there was a modicum of that. No, Isaura could tell di'Sona felt cheated the Torc hadn't lived up to its infamous and macabre billing.
If Isaura was honest with herself, she would have admitted that this one time, she wished the horrible device had lived up to its legend too. Hadn't she sat there taking pleasure from what she thought was the start of the girl's death?
That it hadn't come presented a problem – what was the goddess to do with her?
Her soul warred, split between hate and grief, and her devotion to the compassionate tenets of her goddess Aana. It would take little to tip the scales to hate.
Taking her from di'Sona was one of the hardest things she'd done, for leaving the wretch was a death sentence. Isaura had no doubt under di'Sona's ‘loving care’, the girl's end would start quickly but take long to finish.
'And didn't she deserve it?'
Yet she hadn't left her, for a solution came to the sorceress in a dream - a goddess-sent dream - which showed a way to grant the girl redemption. She would purge Ashe of all her evil. And she could! Of all the sorcerers, sorceresses, mages, wizards and witches in the Seven Kingdoms, only Isaura knew how.
'In the Cavern of Dearmad. Surely this is what Aana willed.'
Both logistical and emotional problems arose, of course - she would have to tolerate the thing's presence while they journeyed to the cavern, so far from Imis. The girl must be made up to assume the same disguise Isaura and her traveling partner Zinjo used when they traveled about, as gypsy peddlers selling... what was the popular term? Snake oil.
Isaura had no need of the coin from her sales, and she chuckled at the thought. She and her sisters di'Sona and Elasha were the latest heirs of the oldest Alarian clan, the Faeyra, and so by default, the oldest family in the Seven Kingdoms. Their duchy, Beurl'Aana, a contraction meaning Sacred Pool of Aana, held, in addition to the famed pool of the goddess of knowledge and compassion, the most fertile farmlands and vineyards in the Seven Kingdoms.
Isaura's older sister Elasha ruled it, and many years ago paid Isaura for her birthright interest. Isaura hated Elasha with a blazing passion, but her sister had paid a fair price. In return she promised never to return to the ancestral home.
Though she still kept a small villa near Beurl'Aana, Isaura was happy to take the –literally - wagon loads of gold and run. In the following years, she invested those funds wisely, and if anyone had bothered to tally those things in the Kingdoms, they would have learned that the sorceress was the wealthiest of the wealthy.
That meant little to her, but her freedom did - for she was freed from the burdens of ruling the duchy with backstabbing sisters. Free to roam the world pursuing her passion - knowledge.
'It was a wondrous life too, filled with light and love. Shea and Zinjo and I tromped where we wished, until...'
Until three years ago, her daughter rebelled, and after a terrible fight, left her.
"And this thing killed her. This Ashe."
Isaura spit on the ground.
Outfitting Ashe in Shea's old gypsy traveling costumes opened her wounds anew, for a memory of her daughter dressed in those same bright garish clothes bubbled up in her mind.
'No, no, no, my Sheala, my heart! You can't be gone, you can't!'
Isaura's grief turned to anger, burning bile in her throat, and she whipped her head around to look at the girl, hand raised, surrounded by elf fire.
Yet again she lowered. It was becoming harder to not release the deadly flames.
"It would be a waste of energy," she reasoned, shuttering her emotions again. "For the Torc hollowed her mind, and left no one at home. No one to feel the pain."
Ashe. Ashe. Death. Death.
"Whoa Sugarmane, whoa Dandy," Isaura called to the lead horses, jerking the reins once. She watched as a giant of a rider approached ahead.
"This place is flat enough; we stop here, Zinjo. Try to be quiet setting up camp, please? I really don't want any fellow travelers knowing we're here, hmm?
I vil be quiet as mouse," Zinjo grunted, and swung his legs over Patch, his sturdy Uthain mount, his four hundred pound frame making a large *thump* where he landed. Isaura rolled her eyes at the giant, and wondered what kind of mice he grew up with in Vostyae.
She turned back to the statue seated in the lower bunk bed of the wagon.
"Ashe, take your worthless carcass out somewhere and pee," Isaura barked, "then help Zinjo."
As a ghost, the girl rose from her seat, exited the back door of the wagon, and walked off the trail toward the edge of the canyon, searching for a bush to squat behind. Isaura learned the hard way at the beginning of the journey that if she hadn't told the girl to do so, at some point she'd have pissed on herself. Even after Isaura sorted that out, it still took a few messy disasters to figure out the right commands, for at first, the girl would simply squat wherever she was at the time of the command to let it flow.
Watching Ashe stumble over shrubs and rocks on her way to a larger clump of evergreen Manzanita bushes, the sorceress wondered - as she had dozens of times since their journey began - how little of the girl's mind was left to redeem?
Isaura had begun unpacking the newest grimoires she'd brought to study, when Zinjo's voice cut through the steady rumble of the not-too-distant falls.
"Stop, girl! Too close to edge!"
Isaura looked up and saw the giant's worry: Ashe stood a few steps from the edge of a sheer drop to the canyon bottom thousands of feet below.
"Idiot creature!" Isaura yelled, "come back here now!"
Wordless, expressionless, the girl spun on her heels and walked back to the wagon. Sighing, Isaura brushed a strand of hair from her face and returned her gaze to the grimoire she was translating from old Alari, called 'Rín-o', or 'Rending' in the common tongue.
'If Zinjo hadn't shouted, would the girl have kept on walking? And why wouldn't I want that?'
2.
"...Madame Izzie's elixir, a remedy for colds, asthma, or even consumption. Now, perhaps for your beautiful lady friends back home..."
- this drew guffaws from the rough crowd-
"...they could benefit from Madame Izzie's grand restorative, bringing speedy relief for the *ahem* diseases peculiar to the females of a certain age, and..."
As it turned out, their camp wasn't secluded enough; a party of Criocan men set up camp nearby. They were headed south to the fertile Symeon Plain in Caphilia to work the winter wheat harvest. The journey was hard and tedious, and so they sought a diversion, for one evening at least, from the traveling gypsies. It was an unwritten law - one never wanted to invite a gypsy to their home, but they were always welcome on the trail. As the first evening stars began to rise, the rough men gathered in a semi-circle around a roaring campfire Zinjo made near the gypsy wagon.
"Do ya 'ave anything ta make a gal spread her legs easier for me?" asked one of the bigger fellows who had gathered round the fire.
"No, my friend, I don't truck in such evil potions," Isaura scowled, her gypsy glamour becoming menacing; cloaked in her magic, the men saw a wrinkled warty woman, missing more than a few teeth, instead of the flawless youthful beauty of the Alarian.
"However, I've plenty of sweet smelling lotions and balms to chase away the most pungent of odors. That might help some, I'm thinking."
"How many would I 'ave to buy," a second man asked, nodding his head to where Ashe sat at the camp fire, "to have a roll in the hay with er?"
"Aye," another muttered, "I'd like that too."
Isaura gave the slightest of nods to Zinjo, who sat in the shadows just behind Ashe. She knew he was alert to the trouble, such as it was. Zinjo could easily handle this group. So could she with her magic, for that matter. Isaura sensed nothing especially sinister about these men. But she knew also men acted collectively in ways they wouldn't individually. Perhaps a show of force might nip this in the bud.
"Is going to be cold night," Zinjo said, as he walked closer to the Criocans ringing the crackling camp fire. The giant straightened his back so he stood at his full eight foot height. Next, he stretched his neck, making a series loud cracking pops. Finally, he leaned over and lifted an enormous boulder, tossing it in his hand like a ball. He carried it close to the fire and dropped it with a huge *Ker-thunk*
"Ah! Iz nice an comfy," Zinjo said as he sat on the boulder, and stroked his long silver beard. The eyes of the men were very wide now.
"That's my gran'daugh yer speaking of, gentlemen. I'll not brook anymore such comments, y'hear?"
"B-begging your pardon, m-ma'am, we sure won't," the first Criocan said, trying not to stare at Zinjo.
'Now that we've shown them the stick,' Isaura thought, 'it's time for the carrot.'
"Well, now, see'n as you are all fine gentlemen-"
Isaura smiled - in character, she was now the happy gypsy peddler again - and pulled a couple of brown glass bottles from her cloak. She held it out to the Criocan who first spoke.
"-I wonder if'n you would mind samplin one of my elixirs and tell'n me yer thoughts."
"What is it?" The man leaned away from her.
"Old gypsy recipe. We call it, um..." Isaura thought fast, tossing out the first words that came to mind. "...the Draught of the Paragon."
The man leaned back in slightly. "Wat's it do?"
"Oh, just the thing to warm a body on a cold night such as this. And, it makes yer brain all smart and such." Isaura handed him the bottle.
He sniffed it; his eyes watered. He sniffed again, and finally took a swig. He coughed, but a silly smile quickly traveled across his face.
"It tastes just like Southern Smash," he whispered to the fellow Criocan to his right. Then to Isaura: "Of course, ma'am, we'd be glad ta sample your drink and tell you our thoughts."
"Good, good! I think this batch is ready but it never hurts to get another opinion or two."
Isaura passed out another bottle; the first was already working its way around one side of the campfire ring. The man wasn't wrong; she concocted the drink using the same amber mash used in a Southern Smash, but she infused other herbal ingredients – and a little magic - into the brew. The result left the drinker warm, contented, mellow and drowsy; the Criocans would sleep well tonight. And have no more thought of bedding Ashe.
She walked to where the girl sat - statue still - and knelt beside her, whispering in her ear:
"Go to the wagon, worm. Splash water on your face. Rub your teeth with the tooth stick, your breath is putrid. Change into your night clothes. Cover yourself with a blanket, and sleep."
She had to be just that explicit. Isaura watched as Ashe stood, turned and walked to the wagon without uttering a sound. Earlier, when the men spoke of bedding her, Isaura thought, for the briefest of moments, Ashe's eyes might have widened in fear. But thinking on it further, she reasoned it was only a reflection of the flickering campfire flames.
Ashe.
The continuing dilemma: what to make of her.
Or the ‘him’ that surely lived within.
She'd clothed her in baggy pants, an oversized patch quilt shirt, soft leather boots and a gypsy boy's cap to cover her pointed Alarian ears. Yet the Criocans instantly knew she was a lass, not a lad.
Perhaps it was the Zinjo's hearty stews and fresh air of the trail. Or the lack of di'Sona's physical abuse. Or Ymra's divine transformational magic completing its change. But undeniably, she was becoming beautiful, even by Alarian standards. Her face was a flawless unblemished peach tone with a touch of rosy blush on her cheeks. Her hair regrew at an unnaturally rapid pace, already the short curly hair poking out from her gypsy boy cap was a lustrous midnight black. Her lips were the same naturally deep red as Isaura's, appropriately pouty, for a blossoming teen Alarian.
And her eyes sparkled ice blue with flecks of gold.
'Why? Something that evil shouldn't look thus.'
Could she ever forget this one had taken her Sheala? Her heart? Even when she suspected there was nothing of the murderer Aesh left after the Torc had hollowed her mind?
Or after the Cavern of Dearmad worked its wondrous magic, how would she treat her then?
"A true follower of the goddess Aana would forgive. A doubter would not. I guess I'll know which I am tomorrow, when we reach the Cavern, hmm?"
3.
Everyone held an opinion about the origin of the amazing hue of the Sapphire Falls. Some said the brilliant blue crystals fell to ground as a gift from the sky god Romtia. Others thought the dwarves mined too deeply, causing blue blood from deep within the earth to spew forth and harden on the surface. Still others reckoned it was the byproduct of some fantastical wizards' battle.
Actually, the deep sparkling blue of the water racing over and down the 2500 foot falls was a reflection of the azure crystal rocks that lay beneath. Ironically, none of those rocks were sapphires.
One thing Isaura did know - the magic permeated everything here; she could breathe it, and taste it. How else to explain the blue mist that rose and sparkled even at midnight?
Summer saw the falls visited by hundreds of travelers from the Seven Kingdoms. Now, the harsh winter deterred all but the heartiest of tourists.
They'd made good time this morning, after they parted ways with the Criocans. She'd even sold them half a dozen bottles of, what had she called it? The Draught of the Paragon. Isaura might be as rich as could be, but she still liked turning a good profit. And now they were at the Falls, which meant they were no more than an hour's ride from the Cavern.
"You mean to go through vith it? You sure it von't kill her? Or is that what you vant?"
As near as they were, Isaura marveled how Zinjo's voice could so easily slice through the roar of the Falls. People always assumed the giant was slow of mind, because of his hulking eight foot size. They would be wrong; Zinjo and she had been business partners of a sort for nearly twenty years. Indeed, he'd helped raise Shea. And in all their years together, she'd never met a sharper mind.
Their relationship had grown so close that she valued the very blunt statement he'd just made. She shared everything she'd learned about Ashe with him, the terrible deed she'd done, the girl's history as a 'he'.
"She killed Sheala, Zinjo, stabbed her in the heart, for goddess' sake! I'd say I'm showing admirable restraint!" Isaura shook the reins to get the team moving a bit faster. She wanted plenty of daylight hours at the Cavern.
"I loved leetle Shea too! Iz not you alone whose heart is broke," thumping his massive fist against his chest. "Do not further dishonor her memory by turning into one she would hate!"
"But Zinjo, her mind is broken, her body changed beyond all reckoning! I don't see what I am planning as killing anything. I think whatever twisted evil thing Aesh was, is already dead. Look at her."
"Da! Look!" Zinjo motioned from his sturdy Uthain mount.
Isaura looked back into the long wagon to see Ashe staring wide-eyed at the sparkling sapphire mist rising from the falls.
"You see? Not mindless! And last night did you not notice how scared she vas? Or yesterday at Gorge's edge. She thinking of jumping."
Isaura frowned; had she missed those signs? But surely he was wrong.
"You're imagining things, old friend. The colors and movement of the mist captures her attention, but there is no thought behind it."
"Be of open mind iz all I say, 'old friend.'" Zinjo spurred his mount forward and rode ahead to the Cavern.
4.
Dearmad, in ancient Alari, meant memory.
Few in the world knew of it, this Cavern of Memory.
As the wagon plodded forward toward the cave, Isaura's mind race ahead; she had a long history with it.
As wondrous as the Sapphire Falls were, they were nothing compared to the magic of the Cavern. An overly curious earth wizard named its unique stalactites and stalagmites, ajoiollite, in a tome he submitted to the Institute Of Magics in Breasine. With great pomp his findings were sealed in a vault there, and his rich reward for his astonishing achievement? To forcibly be dragged back to the Cavern and have the ajoiollite remove his entire memory. Or so they said; no one quite remembered the specifics of it.
That's what ajoiollite does: it captures the memories of the living, and holds them in its azure stone. Truly unique in all the world.
'Well, almost unique,' Isaura amended, thinking of the Caxenar Crystals of the dark priests, then of Shea's missing stone with her memories, then of Shea.
'Shea!'
"No! I cannot give over to grief now," the sorceress said aloud, "I have tasks to perform which require my complete attention."
She wrenched her mind from the abyss of grief, and back to the magic of the stones in the Cavern. The true magic it held was that once an ajoiollite stone captured a memory, any who touched the stone could experience it and could see it.
If few in the world knew of the Cavern, even fewer - perhaps a handful - knew its location. Isaura was one of the few.
She led Zinjo and Ashe deep within the Cavern, to an antechamber only she had found, one filled with hundreds and hundreds of ajoiollite stalactites and stalagmites.
"Please explain procedure again," Zinjo whispered, as he set down the canvas rucksack he shouldered. Even whispering, his words echoed throughout the cave.
"Each stalactite or stalagmite will hold a single memory. I am going to have one capture the memory Ashe holds of Shea's death. I would see my daughter's last moments."
"Vill only bring pain; do not do it," Zinjo whispered again, clearly uncomfortable with the confined space they were in. Then he spread his hands wide.
"Isaura, as your friend, one last time I beg you reconsider. You are not yourself now, and haven't been since her death. And if you do this for revenge, know this from one who knows it all too well. It does not bring peace." The giant's accent diminished and his tone gentled.
"Ask yourself, 'why do I do this?' Ask yourself, 'is this vhat Aana wants?' Ask yourself, 'will this bring Shea back?'"
"I know... it won't... bring her..." Isaura's eyes teared; she couldn't finish the sentence. "As for Aana's will, I believe this may indeed be her will. But what I do know for certain, is that I need to see how my baby died, no matter how horrible it is."
"For closure. I understand." Zinjo's thick accent returned. "But if zat is plan, why we come down so far, if need only one stone?"
"Here, in this chamber, the ajoiollite deposits are so thick that the stalagmites are all interconnected at their bases. I plan to fill every last one."
Zinjo looked from the hundreds of stalagmites surrounding them, to Ashe's blank face, and back to Isaura, as the meaning of her words sank in. She planned to empty the girl of every single memory she had.
"So plan vas kill her all along. Revenge."
"No! To give her a fresh start. Redemption."
"You are one imagining now," he growled, and the Cavern rumbled in echoed response.
"By all measurable standards she's already dead. This may give her a rebirth," Isaura said, unsure whether she was trying to convince Zinjo or herself of her motives. She turned to the silent girl.
"Kneel, and place your hands on the cave floor."
Ashe obeyed, and once Isaura saw her hands make contact, she pulled her wand from a hidden robe pocket, and spoke one word:
folamh.
Slowly, the stalagmites nearest Ashe flickered and blinked on, their colors shifting from muted blue to rainbow hues. The colors fanned out in all directions too, until after several minutes, all the stalagmites in the antechamber pulsed and softly glowed. Soon, each one settled, all with bright sparkling colors. All except those furthest from the kneeling girl, which were black. Isaura wondered at that.
Zinjo spun round and round, awed.
"These.... all these... filled vith memories of Aesh?" the gigantic man whispered.Isaura nodded, only half listening. The bright color pattern of the stalagmites continued to trouble her.
"And now she... Ashe... Aesh... her mind iz completely blank-ed?"
"Yes," the sorceress replied, focusing on Ashe.
She'd used the word 'blank' to describe Ashe ever since di'Sona first brought her to her room with the soul-crushing Torc fastened to her neck. But now she saw it was wrong. Dulled was more accurate, for now... now she was completely empty. Her entire life, as Aesh, was spread throughout the anti-chamber deep within the Cavern of Dearmad.
And her mind was a clean slate, blank as a babe's. She doubted the girl knew how to speak now, or even eat.
"How does zis work, Isaura?"
"This is the amazing part, Zinjo, it's so easy." Isaura took Zinjo's massive hand and placed it on a nearby brightly hued stalagmite. "You just touch one and see the memory."
"Iz... iz..." Zinjo's eyes widened. "I see tings! Out of eyes of other. Everyone looks so big! Iz little boy I think, talking to papa! They are fish together on warm summer day. Iz happy memory.”
Zinjo went silent for several minutes as the images from Aesh's memory played through.
"He loved hiz papa so much and so much love his papa had back for him," Zinjo whispered. "Iz that why this one iz bright?"
"Yes, I know it seems too simple, but the brighter the stalagmite, the happier the memory."
"How long will the stones hold the memories?"
"A decade, no more, and then they fade."
"There are so many!" Zinjo's eyes scanned the vast chamber. "How vill you find one you look for?"
"The furthest darkest stones are her latest memories. I suspect I'll find the one I seek in those over there."
Isaura pointed to the furthest grouping of stalagmites in the chamber, which were also the blackest.
As the two weaved to where Isaura pointed, Zinjo looked back. He saw Ashe, still kneeling, silent as ever, exactly in the center of the chamber. Radiating out from her in all directions, were the glowing stones, each containing separate memories, all adding up to a life.
He stopped so abruptly, Isaura bumped into his massive frame. "I feel like we valk inside her mind."
"Yes... I suppose that's true." She scanned the room again, still brooding over what she saw.
"This feels like we, hmmm, trespass where we shouldn't," Zinjo said, his discomfort plain. Then he made a sweeping gesture with an arm. "Iz this vhat you expect?"
"No," her head shook slowly. "Not at all."
Forty years ago, Isaura's beloved mentor was close to death. The wizard was known as Airas of the Shadowed Desert; no one knew his surname or where he came from. He often joked with Isaura that he had forgotten it himself. He saw something in her that made him accept as her as his apprentice, even though the ink on her diploma from the School of Sorcery at Grarinns was still wet.
Airas was the greatest human wizard, at least in recent times, and perhaps ancient times, too. But even so, his magic could only extend his life for so long. Realizing he would die before he could pass all his knowledge to her, in an act of supreme sacrifice, the two came to this very chamber, where he emptied his memory, and died. Isaura spent an entire year sifting through Airas's memories to glean the knowledge - the treasures - he intended for her.
Her mentor was a good man. No, a great man - she knew this - yet the memory stones of Ashe/Aesh were brighter than her mentor's had been. Brighter by a lot. But how? She was Shea's killer. How could it be?
When they reached the black stalagmites grouping, Isaura began calculating which held the memory she wanted. She would start with a base stalagmite, and work out a timeline using the memory she saw. She had become rather good at this through working with her mentor's memory stones those many years ago.
Isaura picked one that was not black, but greyed, the beginning, she hoped, of the critical sequence of events.
Once she laid her hand on the moist stone, the stalagmite sucked her into Aesh's point of view with a whooshing. She had forgotten how disorienting the effect was.
As she focused, she found herself looking at a smoke-filled room through Aesh's eyes. Across from her sat a woman who looked very much like Isaura did when she conjured her gypsy woman glamour, only this woman was genuine, a true gypsy. A purple scarf with gold medallions covered her head; and her outfit consisted of a short puffed-sleeved peasant blouse, and Isaura assumed, a traditional long flowery skirt. She couldn't see that from Aesh's seated position.
Wrinkles and lines etched the woman's face, her long hair was peppered and frayed, and she lacked a tooth or two. Her hands held a deck of tarot cards and were laying a pattern on the table.
'Interesting...'
With a raspy cackle, she named each tarot as she laid it.
"The Fool..."
Even from this memory, this echo of reality, Isaura sensed the fortune teller was not a fraud; she felt the aura of great power surrounding her.
"Crow of Avarice...The Hierophant reversed..."
Something about these exact cards nibbled at Isaura's mind. Something familiar. Someone she knew, maybe?
"Black Magus... Devil of Corruption... The Wretched Suicide..."
Isaura didn't connect with those cards, other than to know they portended dark tidings. She watched as the soothsayer laid the critical center card:
"The..." here the fortune teller gasped softly "...Goddess of Cauldrons..."
-If Isaura wasn't paying complete attention to this memory before, she locked in now, for that last card shown either represented Aana, goddess of knowledge and compassion, whom she was devoted to, or Ymra, the fell goddess of transformation and destruction, both of whom were pictured holding a cup or stirring a cauldron. And di'Sona had already told her that Ymra directly intervened, answering her sister's call in the most unprecedented way-
"...The Reborn One... The Yoke of Despair... The Queen of Wands... Temperance...
That the reading consisted almost entirely of major arcane cards alarmed Isaura as much as anything. Dynamic global events were in play.
Something else struck Isaura - the fortune reading had become very specific: 'Reborn One...Aesh? The Yoke is the Torc. And the Queen of Wands... I know who she is.'
"Ace of Flames... Queen of Keys... and" the old soothsayer sighed," ...The Apple Tree of Healing."
"What a clusterfuck!" Isaura heard the disdain in Aesh's voice. "Yes, it's true, we are so desperate to find Professor Brevair, I actually held hope this so-called fortune teller might be a lead when she sought us out. But Master, you see this is all fakery now, right? We must find him before he distills the antipodal chrysopoeia. To reason with him, show his path perverts life!"
Aesh's eyes turned to look at someone sitting beside him; an elderly human man. Isaura guessed he was in his sixties by the few gray hairs remaining atop his head. He wore the dark robes of an Alquimista Dominar.
"Must we listen to any more of this?"
The timbre of Aesh's voice surprised her; though exasperated, it was a pleasant baritone. And she could definitely tell his mind was lively and sharp. Not what she'd expected to hear from her daughter's killer.
'And what sort of voice did I expect Shea's killer to have?'
"You will listen and you will be respectful. And you will cease speaking so impiously, Aesh. Ailana Crow is the Paridala of her clan and is revered as one of the greatest soothsayers in the Seven Kingdoms. She is a genuine Power, to be revered-"
'A Power indeed, and not just one of...' Isaura found herself correcting the memory; she'd met Ailana decades before when she was a tiny gypsy lass, but even then she sensed her power as a seer, '...she is the greatest living seer.'
"-and has traveled hundreds of miles to deliver this reading. Kings and Queens offer her chests of treasure and beg her to tell their futures. Yet instead she came here. To see you. This is important, so pay attention."
"Yes, and I appreciate that, but heavens balls, Sir! This isn't..." Isaura heard his frustration in his sigh. "When I .... when I mix one compound with another, I can predict the results. My past experiments and learnings tell me the probable outcomes. But this 'card reading' ...it can't be rationally explained at all and-"
"-Silence, ignorant pup!" Ailana growled, which made Isaura smile. "Oy! You young alquimistas! Always so cocksure you know so much. Bah, my little finger knows more than you!"
"You are a key! You must heed the cards, for they tell of plague and death for the Seven Kingdoms. More death I see than the Blood Wars, even, unless you-"
"-I struggle to understand how these random cards tell us this, but," Aesh's view returned to his master, "if it is true, why would I do it? Dashing off who knows where because of this fanciful reading is not what we need! My efforts, yours and those of every able-bodied alquimista must be bent on finding Breviar and bringing him back to Edefia..."
'All the alquimistas were chasing one man?' Isaura thought, and recalled what di'Sona told her from her interrogation. 'Who is this Breviar? Blood Burn perhaps?'
"...How can I be ... no, strike that, if I am critical to... the fate of the world then the world is so very screwed. If the world is in danger, then common sense tells us we go instead to our Exarch, to have him warn the rulers of the other kingdoms. They with their armies and wizards are the ones to handle it, not me! Why must this be done alone by me? It's backassward nonsense!"
'Can't fault him a bit,' Isaura thought, 'a rational if colorful response to an irrational situation.'
"Why?" Ailana reached across the table and slapped Aesh's face, and not lightly. "I'll show you why!"
"This is your future, no, all our futures, if you go anywhere but to Imis, exactly as I say."
"I-Imis? In Alari? Among the elves?"
"Close that yammering foul mouth of yours, pup, and see!"
Ailana gathered the cards, shuffled, laid eleven cards down, and placed the remaining two facing up. The first showed a yawning pit, surrounded by doubtless dead bodies, falling into it like a waterfall. Under the picture were the words Lanr Deșeuri.
'The Waste Land? Isaura translated. 'On a world scale?'
On the second card, a skeleton, with sword held high, and jaw bones wide open, rode a gaunt white horse.
"The Broken Earth. The Skeleton Riding. The Void. Death. Don't believe me, boy?"
She shuffled the cards again, several times, counted eleven again, laid two cards down. Void, Death. And she reshuffled them a third time. Void. Death.
"Aiieeeeee! Ailana have same dream over and over for months. Is stuck in head! I see you, leaving today - you must! - travel alone - again, you must! - and when you arrive in Imis, seek she who will lead you to the Queen of Wands. So sayeth the cards."
"And how would I find this 'Queen of Wands'?"
"She will find you." Ailana rose, swept her cards up, placing them an old frayed bag. "I do pity you, boy, for all you suffer. Great change and woe come to you. Do not give into despair. The outcome is murky... many storm clouds gather, yet, perhaps, in the end you may find..."
"Find? Find what?"
"I say no more for the cards show no more."
"You've got to be shitting me, Master Bexon! You cannot seriously expe-
The memory dimmed abruptly, as they often did with the stones, it was as if the stone could hold no more.
Isaura withdrew her hand, and blinked, as she reoriented to the glowlights of the chamber.
"Vell?" Zinjo's tone was hushed, concerned. "Vas it one where... where..."
"Shea died?" Isaura shook her head slowly. Returning from a touched memory from one of these stones was always difficult. This was particularly hard.
"There's more at play here than I ever imagined. Way more, and he... she ... wasn't at all what I..."
...expected. She was confused; she'd assumed her daughter's killer would be heartless, ruthless, evil and someone to hate. Not a young, intelligent man, charming in his youthful passion, if not in his colorful language.
The wasteland and death? If Ailana Crow was right, the Seven Kingdoms were facing a massive extinction event. Was this the reason the Arch Duchess sent Shea to Caphila? Did di'Sona know? What happened to her there, and what happened when Aesh met her in Imis?
'I'm about to find out.'
Isaura walked past several more, her hands brushing the pulsing stalagmites, snatching fleeting images of Aesh's journey to Imis. She stopped in front of one of mixed colors, not gray, but spinning white and black.
"This one" her hands quivered, "holds the memory of..."
'My beloved's death.'
Isaura couldn't speak the words. Zinjo grabbed her wrist; a gentle touch for such a giant hand.
"Maybe you shouldn't. This is something no mother should have to see. I look if wish."
"I most certainly shouldn't," Isaura shook her wrist free of Zinjo's hand and grasped the stalagmite, "but I must."
She fell hard into the memory; it was night, the glowlamps of the Imis streets were lit, casting long flickering shadows. She realized again she was seeing through Aesh's eyes, and at the moment, his vision swung back and forth, fixing on a street sign for a moment -Achorage Lane- then swinging back the other way.
"Where the hells am I? How do they even hammer together these freakishly delicate buildings? Where the hells is the Queen's Point Inn? And why, why, why in gods damned hells am I here instead of hunting Breviar? I might as well crap in my hand and slap my face."
Aesh might be lost, but Isaura knew exactly where he was, in the Guild District, close to Fayhold Park. Where di'Sona said he killed Shea.
Aesh's memory played on; he wandered into the wooded area of the park, and Isaura imagined the lad must have thought it was a shortcut to the inn. In fact he was walking in the wrong direction.
"Stay away! Do not come near, I beg you!"
'It's her!!!! Sheala's voice! Goddess grant me the strength to see this.'
"W-who said that?" Aesh's head bobbed to the right and left, looking, Isaura guessed, for where Shea was. "I mean you no harm. Maybe I can help."
Something was terribly wrong with her daughter; she could hear such pain and weakness in her voice.
"Your accent ...strange," Shea gasped. "You aren't Alarian?"
"No, from Ogda. And here on an assmonkey's quest, looking for someone called the Queen of Wands. Where are you? Are you sick?"
"This disease won't affect you if you aren't," Shea sighed. Isaura felt the pain in her daughter's voice with each word. "You swear you're from Ogda?"
'What's wrong with you, my baby?'
"No pointy elf ears here. See?"
"Quick, then, stranger, come here," Shea rasped, "behind these blackhaw bushes."
Aesh followed where Shea directed, and soon, Isaura saw Shea's face through Aesh's eyes: Shea's eyes were sallow and feverish. Her cheekbones were drawn too, and her skin had telltale splotches. It looked like... but that was impossible! The Alarians’ natural magic made them the only race immune to...
"Plague! A variant, at least," Aesh knelt beside the young woman, putting his hand on her forehead.
"It's called The Wasting," Shea answered. "I... I've never been sick before and ...I hurt so bad, all over, down to my bones. I barely can move. But I'm compelled to."
"You're burning up! Crap! If I could run blood tests I might be able to formulate a pain easing compound. I do have something in my kit that will help a little. Then we've got to get you to one of your healers!"
'Yes, hurry! Take her to a healer!'
Isaura had completely forgotten this was a memory; she was living it as if it was happening in the now.
"No, NO! You mustn't!" Shea's voice was emphatic. "It's what they want! I'm infected with a disease magically designed to weaken Alarians. They've..."
A coughing spell came over her, deep hacking chest rumbles. Through Aesh's eyes Isaura saw blood trickle from the side of her mouth.
'No!'
The coughs subsided finally and Shea continued.
"They've... created plagues for the peoples of each of the Seven Kingdoms! We are to be first, because we are the strongest. We are the example. They think when the other kingdoms see the 'mighty elves' laid low, surrender will be quick to follow."
"Designed? By who? Was one called Breviar?"
"No, by a man called Blood Burn-"
'Breviar and Blood Burn must be the same man,' Isaura concluded.
The sorceress heard voices calling 'SHEA' in the distance, one of them sounded like di'Sona. She saw Shea grab Aesh by his arm.
"Let no one near me! They made me come here, used me as a weapon against my own people."
"Made you? How?"
"She betrayed me. Infected me..."
'She? She who???'
"...and forced a powerful geas on-"
Isaura heard voices calling her daughter's name again, sounding closer now.
"They can't find me alive! They'll catch it too! Spread it everywhere. Making us vulnerable. Crippling our race. I will not be the weapon that brings the Alarians to their knees!"
Isaura saw a blade appear in Shea's hands.
"Hey, stop!" Isaura heard the panic in Aesh's voice. "Put that down..."
She watched her daughter spin the knife so the blade hung over her heart. Aesh swung a leg over to straddle Shea, grabbing the knife, stopping her from plunging it in.
"Stop this, now! Please! You could really hurt yourself!"
"I can't kill myself, her geas prevents my hands from doing it! But yours could."
"I won't! It goes against all I believe in!"
"You will! The Wasting vanishes from the body at death. If I die before infecting anyone, it would set them back. Buy time. Maybe they could be stopped."
"That's not how a pathogen works! A disease affecting the body wouldn't vanish-"
"Shea, where are you?" voices called, closer now.
"Out of time! My people are here! Stranger, forgive me for what I'm about to do. Warn di'Sona about the sickness when she finds us... tell her of the danger to Alari. And tell my mother ...I..."
"Tell your mother what?" Aesh asked.
"I... I've lost my memories!" Shea wailed.
"SHEA!"
Her geas prevented her hands from plunging the knife in, but it did not stop her from forcing him. She reached her free hand up and touched Aesh's forehead. And even through the memory, Isaura felt her daughter using the magical compulsion she had taught her many years ago.
"Wait... what did you... no please, please, please don't make me...-"
When Aesh's hands pushed down, Shea's face smiled, then went slack. But as it did, Aesh felt - and through the memory Isaura felt too - a jolt of energy.
'What was that?' Isaura felt the in rush and it was so familiar. To her, it felt like soul.
di'Sona - close now - yelled 'Stop! Murderer! A whizzing sound followed, and the memory went black.
5.
She didn't remember kneeling, perhaps her knees had given way, she didn't know.
'She's gone. She's really gone.'
Her hand went to her face, so wet. Disoriented, Isaura looked to the cavern ceiling to see if it was dripping. When she touched her fingertip to her tongue and tasted salt, she understood - tears.
'What a fool I am.'
She thought she'd made peace with Shea's passing in the months since her death. Thought she was prepared to face this memory.
'My baby!'
She felt now, in the deepest corner of her anguished soul, that the only time she would have peace was when she herself died.
Isaura lost track of time for her thoughts were of her little girl: the day when she was born, first walked, talked, calling her 'Mama'…
"No, no, no.”
'Was that whimpering?'
She turned to where Ashe knelt in the Cavern's center, but the girl was more blank than ever. Dulled and dead.
Isaura's heart grieved and ached, knowing the truth in full.
"Stop, stop, stop!"
The whining came again; she turned in the other direction, to see Zinjo, hand upon a black stalagmite, his eyes wide and across his face, an expression Isaura had never seen on it - terror.
"Zinjo? What's wrong?"
When his singular response was a howl that rattled the cavern walls, Isaura sprang up and ran to him. She yanked his massive hand free of it - not an easy task - and even then, he kept bellowing.
Her hand stung as if a dozen bees had attacked it, and she guessed she was probably hurt far more than the cheek she'd slapped.
He blinked several times before he whispered, 'Zank you.'
"What they did to little one to make her talk... thing they tie around her neck... so evil!"
"You saw? You felt?"
"Da. I touched next memory stone. It... The Torc, is alive with thing of fire and pain, and ...is rape of soul, I tink."
"Alive?"
Isaura had wondered what the ancient bastard-of-a-wizard had done to make the device so powerful and so attuned to Alarians. But if he had bound a daemon to it, that would explain much
.
"They - your nasty sister and her followers - did other things too. And not to make little one talk. Just to be cruel."
"Yeah, she's one fucked up bitch. She lives for moments like that, when she can justify her perverted sadistic cruelty. She probably got herself off when she questioned Ashe alone with the Torc wrapped around her neck."
"Da, something like that," Zinjo said in a hushed tone, looking at the black memory stone.
Then he turned to face Isaura, his eyes fuming. "Are you fucked up beetch too?"
"Wait, what?"
"Look," Zinjo's arm swept around the cavern, and ended pointing at Ashe. "Look what you've done! You kill her. Empty her. Spread her insides all around. You justify doing so just like nasty sorceress."
"And ...she's innocent, Zinjo," Isaura whispered. "I saw it. Shea made her do it. Ashe -Aesh - had been trying to help, to ease Shea's pain. I've never been so wrong in my entire life."
"I vould see this, if I may?" the giant asked softly. "Would see for both Shea and Ashe I think."
Isaura brooded over this, finally giving Zinjo a nod. What right did she have to say no? Zinjo loved Shea too, suffered when she told him of her death. And, it was Ashe's memory; he had as much right to see them as she.
She pulled his huge hand to the pulsing ajoiollite that held the memory. And touched it to the stone along with her own; they would watch together.
Seeing it the second time was no better than the first. This time, she heard the concern for Shea in Aesh's voice even deeper this time, and the horror when he realized what she was making him do. But more than that, her anger was stoked white hot at whoever infected her baby, and bound her with a terrible geas. Even as they pulled their hands away when the memory faded, and tears filled Zinjo's eyes, hers were red.
"They. Must. Pay."
'I will hunt them down, and show them real cruelty. Faeyra cruelty.'
di'Sona, too, must answer for what she did to Ashe. But then, so must she, yes?
'For I am guilty too.'
Somehow, but... how would she atone for what was done to Ashe?
She could start now, this moment. For she had another inspiration.
"Her memories! Zinjo!! We... we'll return them!"
"Zis you can do?"
"I know a way."
'I think...'
She learned it those many years ago; when her mentor's memories started to fade; she found how to transfer the ones she hadn't studied into her own mind. It was tricky though; if you took someone else's memories from their Caxenar stone, you went insane. It was an unalterable fact and the dark priests learned this terrible lesson over and over.
The ajoiollite crystals were different, gentler and more discrete in how each held a single memory instead of all packed together as with Caxenar stone. Yet when Isaura had taken the remaining year of Airas’s memories into her head, it nearly drove her mad.
'But hopefully, since Ashe was empty... and they are her memories...'
"Da! Good!"
Zinjo's grim face lightened, but only for a moment. Worry soon flooded his face. He motioned to the black stalagmite grouping.
"You cannot give her back zese. Will keeel her."
"I may have a solution for that too, old friend. Would you mind fetching your rucksack?”
Once the giant returned and set it in front of her, she pawed around until she found the dark velvet sack packed in its lower compartment. From it, she withdrew a pair of white cloth gloves, which she slipped on her hands. Then she pulled a hefty pinkish crystal from the bag, and held it up to look in it.
"Vats that?"
"Cabrcon. Otherwise known as a Caxenar Crystal. Shea and I discovered them in the Ergus Mines, the place where those morbid dark priests gather their memory crystals."
A scowl crossed the giant's face. "Vin you visit that cursed place?”
"A year before you started traveling with us," Isaura answered, smiling.
She remembered how excited Shea was to go spelunking in those dark caves. Even as a five-year old, she loved action and adventure. Isaura wished she would have admitted then her daughter wouldn't follow the tedious wizard's path of knowledge as she did. It would have saved so much heartbreak if she had.
"And it does vat?"
"Like ajoiollite, it can hold memories... but it's not as, um, gentle, as ajoiollite."
Zinjo rolled his eyes; years of traveling with the sorceress had taught him she loved to be begged to explain statements like that. Finally he huffed,
"Talk, witch."
"Better yet, I'll show you, if this works as I hope."
Isaura touched the stone to a blackened stalagmite, which brightened, turning back to its neutral azure, and the cabrcon crystal darkened.
She touched another, and it also cleared. She continued touching the stalagmites one by one.
"So, zhis crystal is just like these stones? And you suck bad memories into it?"
"Yes, er, no. The stalagmites are different. They- somehow - separate memories, holding only one each. Preserving them. It's why they are so miraculous. This..."
She held up a now pitch black crystal,
"...can suck out all it touches. Were I to touch one to your thick skull, all Zinjo memories would be gone... pfffffft."
"Evil!" Zinjo took a step back.
"The dark Caxenar priests teach their students how to selectively remove memories as part of their training," the sorceress said, as she placed the darkened crystal back into its bag. She pulled a second bag from the pack.
"Why you possess such things, woman?"
She didn't answer, for he knew why. Unlike her fellow wizards, she didn't lust for power. She craved knowledge.
Isaura spent her life traveling the world, learning, collecting and discovering. It was the reason she and Shea had their horrible argument, causing her daughter to leave her and follow her own path. She said wanted to do something meaningful, not follow her mother around boring libraries or dank smelly caves listening to old men or women dribble out their secrets.
'Oh Sheala!'
The sorceress paused, her body quivering slightly, her despair threatening once again to overwhelm her. She slammed those emotions down hard. As she had every other time her grief for Shea welled within her. But each time was harder.
Huffing a bitter sigh, she withdrew an unused memory crystal from the bag she held. This she touched to the stalagmite which held the memory of Shea's passing. When it clouded whispy gray, she clutched it and kissed it, before returning it to a separate bag. Isaura knelt to tuck the bags back into a rucksack compartment. Once done, she stood.
"Come," she said, and walked to where Ashe knelt, "we are ready to try this."
"And... without dark memories, she vill..." Zinjo was going to say 'be okay,' but stopped his mouth from uttering the words. Of course she wouldn't.
"...think again?"
Isaura bit her lower lip. "I don't know."
She knew of no one whose memory was emptied, and then refilled. And Alarian history told her the Torc destroyed the minds of all who wore the terrible device.
'Yet ...by removing all memory of the Torc' the sorceress thought and hoped, 'wasn't there the chance her mind could work once more?’
"What else can we do?"
Isaura knelt beside the girl, caressing her face, whispering:
"I'm so, so, sorry for what they... we have done to you. If you die now, I swear to Aana the world will not forget you, Aesh. I swear that... that..."
Isaura once more felt wetness streak her cheeks - when had she started weeping? - and Zinjo’s massive hands gently rubbing her shoulders.
"Iz good, witch woman. You are not goddess. You only do best. Iz time."
Isaura nodded, stood, and drew herself up to her fullest height. She straightened her robe, and withdrew her ebony wand from a pocket again. With a flick of her twisted she uttered:
faigh air tilleadh
There were no explosions or bursting lights and sounds, as Zinjo had witnessed on other occasions when Isaura spoke aloud the fell language of the magic. But he did see, slowly, one by one, first from the furthest, then moving closer, the bright swirling stalagmites winking out, returning to their natural azure blue.
When the last stalagmite blinked off, Ashe suddenly gasped and would have fallen to the floor had not Zinjo caught her and scooped her up.
Her eyes opened.
She focused on the sharp stalactites pointed down at her from the ceiling above, and
...screamed...
...her voice bouncing and echoing throughout the Cavern of Dearmad.
Next, her head craned to see who carried her. When her brain told her it was a fierce huge giant, she screamed a second time.
Her third scream came after she looked down at her body.
That one was loudest and longest by far.
end, Part 1
Memory and Memories - Part 2
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
Chapter 3 – Awakening
1.
"But it makes no sense whatsoever, miss-"
"Call me Isaura," she answered, brushing a stray strand of hair from the girl's face.
She found she couldn't refrain from such intimate gestures, since Ashe's 'awakening'. With the girl speaking, with feeling and animation in her face instead of weeks of stone dullness, she was both pretty and, well ...too darned cute. She reminded Isaura so much of the way Shea looked when she was a teen.
"And what makes no sense?"
"I-Isaura. Thanks. Um, ...that a... a... a... -"
"-the dark goddess," Isaura whispered.
"Thanks, that fucking Ymra, would do this to me!"
"Sshh! Do not speak that way of her! It's what someone told me, who said she saw your change…"
After the girl had calmed from her awakening - or at least stopped screaming - and began to understand that the giant and the strange Alarian woman meant her no immediate harm, she allowed Zinjo to carry her back to their wagon.
Then the questions started.
Of course she would have them, this bright young alquimista. Dozens and dozens. At first, her thoughts were scattered and confused, as if the pieces of her mind were still finding their way back together. But minute by minute, the girl's thoughts sharpened.
"What caused this? Is it reversible? Would healers be able to help? Was a potion used? And if so what were the components? Did I die?"
Isaura wasn't sure what the girl thought of the strangers she found herself with. She imagined after Ashe caught sight of her brightly painted vardo wagon, the girl assumed Isaura and Zinjo were a pair of bizarrely matched gypsy travelers. Since the girl's emotions were swinging wildly between manic and catatonic disbelief, Isaura thought it best not to correct her.
Zinjo rode ahead, pleased as could be to leave Isaura with the task of answering the questions of one who awoke to find himself changed to a different species and gender. He would have a campfire crackling and waiting for them when they arrived. Though still only mid-morning, Isaura was certain Ashe could use a good hot meal.
'Eating something delicious always makes things better,' the sorceress reasoned. It wasn't a learning she'd gleaned from her decades as a sorceress, it was just good common sense.
And because she needed to use the privacy of her wagon's interior to contact di'Sona with her scrying bowl, Zinjo would cook up one of his famous stews for Ashe outside. Thankfully, though the air was winter crisp, the sun was out, giving them the appearance of warmth.
Isaura's mind puzzled on other questions as well, even as she answered the girl's:
Where to travel next? Which way led to Sheala's real murderer? To whomever infected her? Was their path back to Imis, to warn the Arch Duchess? Or to the capital of Caphila, where her daughter was betrayed? To Ogda, to take the girl to the comfort of friendly faces? Or to Millcrest, to consult with Soothsayer Crow again?
'Too many choices…'
For now, she decided it was best to make camp once more at Sapphire Falls and let Ashe soak in the wonder. A sense of guilt made Isaura keen to refill the girl's head with as many good new memories as she could.
"I agree one hundred percent, love," Isaura said, returning to the girl's latest question. "I have no idea why a goddess would change you like this."
Truth. Isaura knew why di'Sona invoked the goddess to change Aesh, to both keep her alive and make her subject to the horrific Torc. The sorceress thought her sister's plea to the goddess irresponsible and idiotic, but at least she understood it.
'But why in the name of all the gods and goddesses above and below did Ymra grant it? 'Isaura wondered, 'and why change her gender???
That confused the sorceress most of all. Isaura gave a frustrated sigh: the gods were ever fickle and obscure.
In answering Ashe's questions, Isaura adopted the practice of telling her as much truth as she could, but omitting the horrors Ashe endured. For instance, when Ashe asked why she and Zinjo had taken her in, Isaura answered with:
"Because when I found you there, in Imis, senseless, among people who meant you harm, I knew I must take you with me,"
- all true - was far healthier than:
'Because when you pushed the blade through my only daughter's heart, my sadistic sister wrapped an ancient torture device around your neck, devouring your free will, and then she and her followers tormented you and violated your body in ways I can't imagine. So I took you, and almost killed you many times myself.’
"And why must you insist on calling me by an elf girl's name? My name is Aesh!"
"I'm sorry, I only do so because I think it wise. And, so you know, 'elf' is a mortal term; we prefer ’Alarian’. Which you are now, love, one hundred percent pure."
Isaura watched the girl scowl as she processed that information.
"Now think!" The sorceress continued, appealing to her reason. "'Aesh' is a popular Ogdian male name. Anyone we meet will naturally be curious to learn why a darling little Alarian girl is so named. Are you prepared to answer those questions?"
"Well, no... I..." Ashe scowled again. "No, I don't have a clue how to answer that."
"And this name I've been calling you, 'Ashe,' is so close to your real name, won't you consider pretending to be Ashe for now?"
"That ...makes sense, but I'll only answer to it while I'm – temporarily - like this," Ashe pouted, still unhappy with the new name even if she saw the logic.
Isaura reflexively smiled and hugged the girl; her pout reminded her so much of the faces Sheala made in her rebellious teens.
'I cannot imagine what's going through her mind, awakened to find herself far from the place of her last memory, among strangers, and thrust into the body of a girl, mercurial teen emotions and all.'
"Oh! Another question! Why... er... sorry, am I asking too many questions? Heh. When I do that with Master Bexon, he tells me to put a sock in it. Kinda cute in a quaint sort of way. Me? I take a more subtle approach when people go crazy with the questions. I make this face…"
Ashe scrunched her face into a sour expression.
"What's that look?" Isaura asked, in between giggles.
"That's exactly what people ask when I do," Ashe said. "And I tell em 'I'm sorry, but that's what my face automatically does when someone asks me a really fucking stupid question'."
Isaura burst into laughter, her first genuine one since Shea's death. It seemed that Aesh the Impious had now become Ashe the Impious.
'What a crime if her delightful wit had been destroyed, and thank Aana it hadn't.
"Now... Master Bexon," Isaura asked, once her laughs and giggles stopped. "He's your alquimista master?"
"Was," Ashe added, a frown forming. "Now I'm a... um... now that I suffer from this affliction, I can't be an alquimista, since we... they...damn it ...only train men. This, er, affliction won't last long, will it? It can't. I am so screwed if it does."
"Affliction? Aana help me!" Isaura rolled her eyes. "Since when is being a woman an affliction?! And surely you see how wrong your exalted alquimistas are! Do you understand your learnings any less, now that you suffer this ‘affliction’?"
Ashe's forehead crinkled, and Isaura guessed the girl was reviewing formulas and recipes, to make sure her mind could still cypher them.
Isaura also guessed the issues the girl faced, or rather, wasn't facing. Specifically, her transformation. At least a dozen times since they started back to the Falls, Isaura watched the girl hold her hand in front of her and stare at it, almost as if she was willing it to morph back to her old hand. She refused to let her eyes drop to her chest. The sorceress braced for the fireworks of when Ashe would have to relieve herself.
"No, I understand everything the same," Ashe paused, her face growing thoughtful. Isaura could almost read the girl's thoughts: 'how much can I tell this stranger?' Her next words were guarded:
"So.... I... I need to get to Edefia fast. I have... er ...urgent business there. Can you take me to the nearest port city? It's, um, a matter of life or death. I'd be happy to pay you to-"
Ashe froze midsentence, and a look of panic crossed her face.
"What's wrong?"
"I... I have no money, or identification... or anything! Who will even believe me when I tell them I'm…"
The girl's speech halted again and this time her expression changed to suspicion.
"Why do you believe me? You say you weren't there when this happened. If that's true, why do you believe what no sane person would?"
"Because I trust the person who told me-"
"-And why are you helping me?" Distrust rose in Ashe's voice. "What's in it for you?"
'Oh Ashe, I have so many reasons to give you all the aid I can. Because I, every bit as much as di'Sona, meant to harm you…
-The true horror of what Isaura had almost done was beginning to dawn on the sorceress-
‘...and now it is my duty to atone. For I considered emptying your soul as punishment for my daughter's death…'
A true sentiment. But there was more to it than that, and she knew it.
'Because I believe you are a key to helping me have vengeance on those who murdered my Sheala…'
And she would have her vengeance. Yet Isaura knew she and the girl were goddess-called for greater tasks than revenge. Aliana’s cards foretold it: together they were called to hunt those who opposed life.
But there was more to it than even that. Sitting next to this young girl, who was so very lost, Isaura's heart fired with the compassion of Aana. She took Ashe's hand in her own, kissed it and gave the truest answer she could:
"You don't know me. You have zero reasons to trust me. And only Aana knows how terrified you must feel. But please, please, please believe me when I say I will help you in every way I can. I will take you to a port, and pay your passage home-"
"I don't need handouts," Ashe said, with a prideful glower. "I'll work to earn it-"
"-Oh shush! Let me earn your trust over the comings days. Will you promise to give Zinjo and me a chance, oh Aesh the open-minded Alquimista?"
The girl muttered something under her breath that Isaura couldn't quite make out. Or maybe the reason she didn't catch it was because she'd simply never heard the combination of 'fudgepuppy mouse droppings' before. And then the girl impishly stuck her tongue out, making the sorceress laugh again.
"I take it that's a ...yes?"
"So low of you to appeal to my vanity. And honestly, I am in no position to turn you down," Ashe said. Then she squeezed Isaura's hand gently and gave her a small smile. "But yes. I really hope you mean what you say. It's the only hope I have. You have no idea how grave the stakes are."
'Oh, but I do…'
2.
Sapphire Falls
The Falls were like nothing Ashe had seen before. Its soft glowing blue light made her body hum, and she felt if she stepped off the edge of Aalt Gorge, the sparkling mist would welcome her and carry her away.
She held up her small hand once more, turned it, and curled her fingers to look at her nails.
'It's a pretty hand, delicate and flawless. Just not my hand.'
Ashe ran the hand through her hair; it was getting damp from the waterfall mist. And as she did -again!- she bumped against her pointy ears.
"Damn it."
They were so sensitive, much more so than her real ears. She could hear far more keenly now. All her senses were sharpened; she could see thrice as far, smell fragrances of plants, of animals, of the soil, from far away. And touch? When she held her hand up, she swore she felt the air. Taste was the only sense she hadn't yet tried.
Then the reality of her predicament crashed down on her again.
'I can't ...do this.'
It was too much. How could she carry on? How could she track the professor as she was? Warn the world of the danger? Like this? She was in the body of a teen! An elf girl's body! Who would take her seriously?
'I don't even know where the hells I am!'
Or ...how in the names of all the gods and goddesses would she find the powerful mysterious sorceress called the Queen of Wands? All she'd found was a giant man, and a young eccentric Alarian woman who liked, it seemed, to masquerade as a gypsy peddler.
'I've lost Breviar. I've failed.'
She moved closer to the gorge edge, closed her eyes and listened; the crash of the water, tumbling thousands of feet down to the pool below, formed a harmonic crescendo, a background song to the sparkling blue mist that rose.
"Don't stand close, little one, iz dangerous."
Zinjo’s voice barely registered to Ashe.
'With a single step, I end the madness. It would be easy... so easy to...'–Sadly, besides being one of the most traveled tourist destinations in the Seven Kingdoms, Sapphire Falls was also a popular suicide spot for the Kingdoms.
When her left foot inched forward, an enormous paw grabbed her by the waist. And just like that, Ashe found herself slung over the giant's shoulder, kicking her legs in the air as Zinjo carried her away from the gorge's edge.
"Hey! I only wanted to get a better view! Put me down!"
Zinjo did, but only when they arrived back at their campfire.
"So sorry, leetle one, but maybe new body you are clumsy with? Zinjo did not want cold swim to fish you out."
Ashe mumbled a response that made even the giant's eyebrows rise; the profanity coming out in no way matching the young innocent lips speaking them.
"...and another thing, stop calling me 'little one'. I am -er, was- a man who was almost six feet tall."
Zinjo burst into laughter, and his hands clasped his sides as his body shook with mirth.
"What's so damned funny?" Ashe's face reddened and she felt like stamping her foot. 'Where were these emotions coming from?'
"Because... hahahaha... you are ALL... haha ...leetle ones to me!"
Ashe tried so hard, but she couldn't stop the smile from forming on her face. She'd never thought of it from his perspective.
"Now, if leetle girl who used to be leetle man iz finished with leetle jokes, iz time for big lunch."
"I'm really not..."
Ashe never finished her sentence with 'that hungry', because Zinjo lifted the lid to the stew pot he'd left cooking.
"Oh gods! That smells heavenly!" Ashe's new enhanced smell sense tried to make her dive into the pot. "What is it?!"
"Iz called Zinjo's Zuprise. The surprise iz meat - whatever iz handy. Sometimes venison, other times snake, or maybe whatever crawly things are around."
"Trailkill stew? Ewww," Ashe crinkled her nose. But the stew's fragrance was too seductive. "What's in this batch?"
"Rabbit." Zinjo dipped a spoon in and waved it under Ashe's nose. "Like leetle taste?"
"Yes, please."
Her alquimista studies trained her to precisely identify compounds and ingredients, so when she took the spoon into her mouth, and her enhanced Alarian senses kicked in, she tasted rabbit, yes, but also mushrooms, onions, herbs too, rosemary, thyme, and... and... her analysis shut down because it tasted so freaking good she couldn't keep thinking.
"Soooooo gooooood."
Zinjo handed her a bowl, which she snatched and plowed into. After she'd wolfed down half of it, she looked up, and her face reddened.
"I'm sorry, this is rude, isn't it?"
"Bah, iz greatest compliment to chef."
"You know," Ashe pointed her spoon at the stew pot hanging over the glowing fire, "I've tried cooking. I mean, the dormitory food at my university in Edefia sucked so bad, we were forced to experiment with cooking as a matter of survival. I used the best ingredients and followed recipes to the tiniest ounce, but never managed something this wonderful!"
"Iz because you leave out most important ingredient. A chef must also cook with intention, with heart," Zinjo pointed the stew ladle at Ashe's left breast. "You must know how you want it to taste. Otherwise only taste blah."
"Really? Heart?" Ashe said with a full mouth, "That's not how we are taught. Sounds too much like magic. We are trained to use what exists, is measurable, and-"
"- magic does not exist?" A wry smile spread across the giant's craggy face.
Of course, magic must exist, otherwise a he would have been sitting here instead of a she. Instead of admitting that, she slurped another bite of the savory stew.
"Or let me ask you this," Zinjo said, ladling a second helping into her bowl. With her last bite, she completely demolished the first. If he hadn't added more, she would have started licking her bowl.
"Iz it not true you use Dragon's Breath in chrysopoeia experiments? Yet it cannot be seen, touched or felt, yes?"
Ashe regarded the giant closer now. It was true. Not the dragon breath part; they only called it that to discourage others from seeking it. The gas was actually found in shallow pockets under the bogs in southern Ogda. Bottling it in sealed ceramic jars was a tricky piece of work.
No, what was true, but was one of the deepest secrets of the alquimistas, was they had used the gas as a reactant in their chrysopoeia process - the transmutation of lead to gold. How did the giant know this?
"Well, yes, but, it is measureable, while heart-"
"-iz not?" Zinjo stirred the stew pot. "I ask you something else. You love your papa?"
"Loved. He's dead now," Ashe looked out at the Falls, the dancing sparks of blue. "I loved him very, very much."
"Oh, sorry to hear." Ashe felt the compassion in his words. "But, your Alquimista Master, you love him too?"
"I suppose, but in a different way."
"Different how? Less intense?"
Ashe nodded. "Far less intense."
"Measurable?"
The girl blinked several times when she realized where the giant had led her. Intensity was a valid measurement.
"Often," Zinjo chuckled in a gentle tone, "heart, love, call it what you wish, iz missing ingredient, from good dishes and other experiments, too, I bet."
Ashe's eyes widened. As Aesh, she passed all her alquimista tests to be a master, save one, the Alquimista Puzzle. Not a traditional puzzle, it was a large cube, four to five feet high, and it held an inner chamber deep within, that also held a vial of acid.
The final graduation test was straightforward enough: the hopeful apprentice's diploma was placed in the inner chamber, the cube was locked, and puzzles set. The apprentice then worked his way through a series of alchemical tests and challenges embedded on the cube, unlocking and opening more and more of it with each test passed until the final chamber was unlocked and the new Alquimista retrieved his diploma.
But the puzzle was timed; when the first puzzle on the cube was engaged, it started the sands running in the innermost chamber. The cube was also sensitive to motion. And if the final sand grain fell or if the apprentice tried to break into the inner chamber by force, then the acid poured out, destroying the diploma. Only one try per year was permitted.
The Alquimista Puzzle was their ultimate challenge and next to their formula for turning lead to gold, their deepest secret.
Aesh had tried twice to unlock it and failed, and each time his master told him he lacked one last element that was key. Could the missing element be heart?
She regarded the giant with wonder.
"I owe you an apology. I assumed because of your great size you were dull. I see now you are very wise." She bowed her head. "Please forgive me."
"Aww, iz nothing, I expect it." He cuffed the back of her head gently. Or as gently as a giant can. "Do not be hard on self, leetle people has such leetle brains."
When she saw him wink and caught his joke, she burst into laughter, which he quickly joined.
Then, he held his hand up.
"Something nearby I think. Coming closer."
He stood, turned to the south, and sniffed the air.
"Go to Isaura quickly, yes? Tell her I've gone to check something."
With that he bounded away with such enormous strides, he was soon lost to sight.
3.
'...from what I've learned, someone, the one called Blood Burn, which I suspect is also known as Breviar, created a disease that even affects us. Shea was betrayed…'
Isaura steadied her breathing, strove to keep the anger from exploding at the thought of the torture her daughter must have been subjected to.
'...by one, powerful enough to subject an Alarian to geas. She must be in league with Blood Burn…'
-Scry speech was difficult enough under normal circumstances, but especially hard over vast distances. It took iron will control-
' ...and she it was who sent Shea to Imis as a... a... weapon, to spread sickness among our people, I think...'
Isaura knew a secret about scrying. Wizards, witches, sorcerers and sorceresses, were taught - for centuries, or millennia, even - that scrying required an activator to accomplish the scryer's intention. A pinch of salt, or drop of ink, oil of a flower, or drop of blood, oh and a thousand combinations, had all been tried. But Isaura found, by using the blue sparkling water drawn directly from Falls, her scrying distance increased a hundredfold. She had Zinjo climb directly into the heart of the Falls - only the giant could manage the feat - to fill several water bags every time they passed this way.
'Be vigilant, Sister! Warn the Arch Duchess! I know not where Blood Burn is nor who this sorceress is who supports him. But I do know this - they will try again.'
She continued her slow steady circular breathing, her soft breath caressing the surface of the glowing water in her black granite scrying bowl.
'How did you learn this? 'di'Sona's image frowned back at her from the bowl. 'Only a select few knew of Blood Burn and the threat he... Ah! You learned it from the girl! Made her confess! Impressive! You must share your technique with me!'
'The girl was not responsible for Shea's death.'
'Nonsense! I saw him murder Shea with my own eyes.'
'You were deceived, little sister.'
'Unlikely, but if so... it is a shame, I suppose.'
Isaura studied her sister's face, and saw not a flicker of remorse.
'Speak truth, little sister, what do you know of this Blood Burn, and she who supports him?'
'Maddening though it is, we know no more than you, Sister…'
Isaura could always tell when her sister was lying, and she lied now.
'...but enough of this. You must come at once and discuss this directly with the Arch Duchess. Where are you scrying from?'
'Sapphire Falls. So I won't be home soon. I will scry again when I learn more.'
'The Falls? Scrying is impossible from that-'
Isaura blew out a strong breath, causing ripples in the water surface, breaking the connection mid-sentence.
"I love doing that to her!"
Isaura left the wagon trailer carrying her bowl with her. She spotted a nearby Manzanita bush, and, with a quick prayer of thanks to Aana, emptied the water at its base.
"Zinjo bounced away; he covered, like ten yards with each stride! I mean, holy smokes, are there many more giants like him in the world?"
"Gods!" Isaura jumped. "You startled me, Ashe! I thought you and Zinjo would still be eating dinner."
"I'm not hungry, and he went to check something out. He told me to tell you."
The sorceress frowned; her scrying had distracted her from guarding against trouble. Or perhaps the revelations of the Cavern. Or the renewed grief from watching her daughter die…
Isaura shook her head of such thoughts, and instantly sent her senses outward to sweep the area. It was a skill she'd been taught by 'Dodore the Mad Wizard' some years ago, who, as she'd learned, wasn't mad at all. Just astonishingly eccentric.
Her sweep found Zinjo, moving quickly; their many years together had attuned her to his aura. But farther away, she sensed a presence. Or rather, presences. A little under a dozen, she guessed. From their aura signatures, she figured they were human and non-magic users.
Zinjo and Isaura had developed into quite a team over the years. He would not attack them, even though he could handle their numbers with ease. No, he would hide and let them pass - he was an amazingly stealthy fellow for one so huge - and only attack from behind should they try to attack Isaura and her wagon. He knew from years of working with her, that she would want to question them, these strangers seeking them out. This meant she needed to prepare, and to have Ashe ready too. She guessed they had twenty minutes before whoever was out there arrived. Isaura turned her attention back to the girl standing before her, smiling at what she saw.
"Not hungry? Why not, Ashe?"
"This," Ashe dramatically swept her hand down her body, every inch a teenage diva, "is something very hard to accept, Isaura. I wonder if my appetite will ever return."
"You poor dear," Isaura said, smiling just a twitch. "Oh, I think you have a little stew left on the side of your mouth, love."
Ashe licked the side of her mouth. "Did I get it?"
"No, the other side," Isaura said, as she tried to suppress a giggle.
"Okay, I had a little stew." When Isaura's only answer was a raised eyebrow, Ashe huffed. "Fine. A lot of stew. So, what is Zinjo scouting about for, do you know?"
"Mmhm. Strangers coming. Ten, by my reckoning."
"Ten? Then we need Zinjo here. Right now. He's coming back, yes?"
"No. He will stay hidden unless he sees we are in danger. People tend to not share information when he is around, since they are so busy running in the opposite direction."
Isaura could read the alarm in Ashe's eyes.
"Wait, you're going to talk to them? Shouldn't we be battening down the hatches and running for it, or hiding or something? They might be robbers or…"
"Battening down the..." Isaura took Ashe's hands into her own. "Listen. I know what you must be thinking - you're scared, yes? Trust me, we don't need Zinjo; I promise you, no harm will come to you."
'Well, no more harm...’
"You think you know what I'm thinking? That's absurd! My whole body has been turned upside down! Some crazy fortune teller shows up at my Master's doorstep, spouting mumbo jumbo, and bam! I'm ordered to go to Imis to look for the Queen of Wands-"
"-Ashe, calm down child…"
"...last thing I remember, I was buying a ticket for a carriage to Imis, and... and... I can only imagine things went as wrong as they could go, because the next thing I know, I'm waking up, weeks later, in the arms of a giant, LIKE THIS! So don't tell me you know what I'm thinking! Hells, I don't even know what I'm thinking!"
"Yes, you're right, dear, I don't know, but... just ...calm ...down."
When Ashe paused to actually breathe, Isaura realized the girl was close to hyperventilating.
"What if these people kill us! Or gods forbid, they kill you, and take me away to... to…"
Isaura knew where Ashe's thoughts were headed, and placed her fingers on the girl's head, to let gentle calming energy into her.
"I'm ...I'm scared, and..." Ashe's voice softened, and her shoulder muscles unwound a little. "...and... feel so ...so…"
Ashe didn't finish the statement, but Isaura heard her vulnerability clearly.
"...and I don't know how you can protect me."
"Ah, but you've never seen me in action. I am Alarian, you know; I have a bit of magic up my sleeve. Now, let's get you ready."
"R-ready? R-ready?" Ashe was too stunned to stammer more.
In contrast, Isaura was a blur of action, plowing into a closet she hadn't touched since word of her daughter's passing came. She whipped a wide bright floral skirt to Ashe's waist.
"Um..." Ashe tried to take a step back, but Isaura grabbed her hands, placing the skirt in them.
"Hold this."
Isaura turned back to the closest, quickly retrieving an equally bright, but non-matching floral patterned silk blouse with flared sleeves. She held that to Ashe's chest.
"How darling."
"No, no, no!"
"Oh yes! You need gold earrings too, to be a true gypsy girl, but we don’t have time to pierce your precious pointy ears, so a few pearl necklaces will have to do. We'll wrap a shawl around your waist, and for Aana's sake let's get those ears covered with a scarf. If it weren't winter you'd have to be barefoot too, but the boots will stay, I guess."
"You're... crazy!"
"Mmhm, I may well be. Now hurry and put those on. And remember to call me ‘Grandmother’ when they are here."
"Grandmother? Seriously? You look barely thirty, if that."
"Aww, thanks. I'm 98, and I will actually look it to them with the glamour I've conjured."
"But I don't see any gl-"
"-You can't, love, glamours don't affect Alarians." Isaura swatted Ashe's behind. "Now move."
4.
Ashe spotted their approach, well before the strangers spied them. Isaura noted the girl's surprise; she was slowly starting to realize her transformation involved more than just a gender change. Her enhanced hearing and sight kicked in.
"They're soldiers!"
"Yes, dear, they are. Can you tell which kind?"
Isaura already knew exactly which kind, but she found herself falling into the same pattern of questioning Ashe that she'd used with Shea in their travels together. Not simply giving her the answers outright, but letting her daughter learn through a series of questions.
"Well, hmmm." Ashe squinted. "They have swords, and many have bows as well, so-"
"No, love, those details don't tell us any more than we already know - that they are soldiers. Focus on that which tells us who they are."
"Oh, sorry, okay." Ashe snuck a quick glance at Isaura before turning her gaze back to the approaching men. It struck her she'd heard just this sort of direction from her professors.
"They wear heavy wool tunics and leggings, as you'd expect from a winter patrol, but they each wear an apron with a picture of a shield on it. Two colored, and halved by a diagonal, the top half gold and the bottom red. In the center is an eagle's head."
"Any guesses as to who they are, then?" Isaura was impressed by Ashe's attention to detail.
"Um, I don't know much about this kind of stuff but... Caphilian?"
"Oh, well done! Yes, they are. The Khedel Empire is a similar color scheme, but with two gryphons facing, and rounded shield bottom."
Ashe squinted again. "No, their shields are pointy-bottomed."
She frowned as she pictured exactly where in the world she was. While it was true they were technically in Caphila, everyone knew where the legendary Falls were, in the small northernmost tip of the country, bordering the Khedel Empire. But it wasn't a place many lived. Rather, it was an arid land of sweeping plateaus and sparse vegetation. It begged a question in her mind.
"Why are they here?"
Isaura smiled and sighed even - she loved the way, and how well, Ashe's mind worked. Though one hearing it might think the girl asked a basic existential one, Isaura had watched her face as she worked through the facts and understood exactly the context: 'These soldiers have no business being this far north at this time of year, so what unusual mission were they on?'
Spot on! Yes, she was beginning to like this girl a lot. No ordinary unit this, either, but a platoon of Caphilian Rangers. This should be interesting indeed.
"Let's go to the stew pot and act like we are cooking," Isaura said.
"Act?" Ashe started walking toward the fire. "It actually needs stirring or the stew will start sticking to the sides."
"Ha! Even better!"
The solders didn't bother with stealth. Seeing only an old woman and a young girl, they marched directly to the campfire, fanning out when they reached it. Ashe stirred the ladle, gripping it hard, while Isaura stood beside her. She tilted her head.
"Was tellin’ me gran'daugh we might be sellin’. Do the pretty Sirs want something to warm their bones?"
The men looked at each other, somewhat confused.
"Ach! Always with the dirty thoughts! I meant sumpin’ to drink. We have-"
"-Silence, hag," a bearded man stepped forward, which Isaura recognized as their captain from the epaulets on his shoulders, "we are here by royal decree, to assess an emergency visitor's tax upon..."
The captain looked around, his displeasure evident from his glare.
"...where is everyone?"
"Beggin’ pardon, Sir," Isaura answered, "everyone who?"
"The throngs of sightseers, the…"
"It's winter," Isaura answered in a low tone, hoping not to embarrass the man in front of his men. "Few travel here now. The last group other than us were Criocans headed south for the harvest".
"Pssst," Ashe gave the lightest of whispers. "You're losing your accent."
And she was. For the briefest of moments, her concentration broke. There was something so familiar with having Ashe by her side. So right. It felt…
'Just like Sheala.'
"Damn it! I told the Commander this was a fool's mission!" The captain's eye blazed; he looked in dire need of having something to kill. "We should be mustering every last man who doesn't have the Wasting, to-
"-Beggin' pardon, cap'n," Isaura asked, struggling back into character, "why did ye come here a seekn' crowds?"
"Are you the only one in Caphilia who hasn't heard? Though a gypsy on the road probably wouldn't. Unnatural plague has come. Fashioned by murderous thieving wizards."
The captain could barely spit his words, so apoplectic was his anger.
"Plague? What kind? By the goddess I pray none have died."
'First Shea was sent to Imis to spread disease among the Alari, and now Caphilia is stricken? It is as Shea said.'
"It struck Glesea, last week; our healers call it the Wasting. Quick as that, more than half the city was stricken."
"And ...death?" Isaura asked.
"No, a mixed blessing that," the captain continued. He seemed in a mood to talk; Isaura had to use little magic to encourage him.
"Though those afflicted barely can move and their bodies ravaged by fevers and chills, few have died, thank the gods. Yet none work, bakers can't bake, fishermen can't fish, farmers can't farm, everything in the city has stopped. Soon after the Wasting came, a single ship arrived in harbor, bearing all black sails, and black flag. A fell emissary, hooded and masked in black, approached our king with a cure. She gave a dose to the king, who was afflicted himself."
"And it worked?"
"It did. And when our king asked for more for our people, the depraved rogue demanded more coin than sits in the Royal Treasury. That's not all; if we failed to pay, if we sought retribution, then she said she would release a second deadly plague, killing all living creatures in Caphilia. All able-bodied soldiers were sent throughout the realm to raise the rest of the ransom, which must be delivered in three days’ time! A more heinous genocidal crime I cannot imagine."
"Is such a thing even possible?" Isaura breathed softly to herself. "A plague that kills all living things?"
"Yes," Ashe whispered back. "Though it's not technically a plague."
Isaura frowned, wondering the depth of Ashe's knowledge of this. First things first; time to deal with the captain and his platoon.
"And so yer sent to rob money from all you see?"
"It's called 'levying a tax', hag. And you know now the why of it." The captain's hand moved to rest on a dagger attached to his belt. "If you say one more word insulting my Rangers, I'll cut out your cursed tongue."
"Let's leave for Glesea now, Cap'n Moris," the solder to the captain's left said. "We'll find better prospects along the way, and hopefully no more shifty gypsy folk."
"Don't be hasty, Private Niall," the bearded soldier to the captain's right crooned, sliding his short sword from its scabbard. He edged closer to where Ashe stood tending the stew, leering at her. "There may be treasure to be found here yet."
The captain frowned as he chewed on the words; the frown turned back to heated rage as the meaning became clear.
"Corporal Fynn, are you suggesting that we, one of the most elite platoons in the Caphilian Army, engage in the crime of human sex trafficking?"
"I see it this way, Sir, our kingdom is under siege, our people suffer, and we must do anything we can to save them. Now this pretty little filly will bring a pot of gold in some, er, auction houses in the dock district."
"Not one more word," Captain Moris growled, "or I'll slap you in irons."
"C'mon, men," Fynn said, placing his sword under the hem of Ashe's skirt. "Shouldn't we at least take a peek? If she's as pretty below as she is above-"
Fynn never finished that sentence. Isaura's blood boiled when she watched the terror play across Ashe's face at what the cretin was proposing. She knew she couldn't shield the girl from all hurt; not even a goddess could. But she had this situation in hand, and it was time Ashe knew it. Isaura chanted:
"llsaana"
Her wand appeared in her hand, and with several brisk flicks, she pointed its tip at the platoon, who...
...stopped all moving, talking or even breathing.
"Step away from the mean man, dear," Isaura said, as she lifted the hem of Ashe's skirt off the corporal's sword. "He's harmless now. They all are; they can't move a twitch nor even blink."
Ashe's eyes shot back and forth over the men, confirming the sorceress' words.
"What did you..." The shock in Ashe's eyes reminded Isaura of an owl, when she turned back to face her. "Are they dead?"
"No, not at all, though they could be, if I left them like this."
"He..." Ashe tilted her head toward the frozen corporal, his lust still locked on his face. "They were going to sell me to... to…"
"No, they weren't," Isaura said, taking the sides of Ashe's face in her hands. "We would never have let them."
"Never een million years," Zinjo's voice boomed as he strode up. "I want show you something, leetle one."
The giant walked through the platoon of stone-still men, without giving them a single glance, as if this were an everyday occurrence for him. And for all Ashe knew of Isaura and Zinjo, it might very well be.
Zinjo pulled a long curved blade from his belt behind his back, and with it, pointed to a thick clump of nearby blackhaw hedges.
"See tops of hedges? Imagine they are heads of pesky soldiers."
The giant hurled the blade with a side arm throw, and it whirled through the air in a wide arc, cutting through the air with a whirling high pitched whine, slicing a long swath of the unruly hedges…
'...like butter,' Ashe thought. She hated it when people overused that saying, but watching Zinjo's blade buzz through the tangled brush as if it wasn't there; it was all she could think of.
In an eye's blink the blade was back in Zinjo's hand, and now, in the wilderness near the falls, the top of a long blackhaw hedge stood neatly trimmed.
"You were here all along?"
"Of course. I was being... how did you say it, witch woman?" Zinjo grinned at Isaura. "...quiet as mouse."
"A very big, huge ginormous massive mouse," Isaura replied, rolling her eyes. "Lucky for us these dolts are practically deaf."
"So what do we do now? Make a run for it or something?" Ashe asked, as she worked up enough courage to approach the captain to examine him. "Can he hear us?"
"No, they can't hear a thing and as for what we do next, we must give them what they came for." Isaura's gaze turned back at the wagon. "Zinjo, would you be so kind as to fetch a bag of our special money from the storage box?"
Ashe stepped away from the captain, her eyes fearful once more; she looked like a skittish doe about to bolt.
"Y-you can't mean, um, letting them-"
"Oh heavens no, child!" She took Ashe's hands in her own, and looked her in her eyes. "I've told you I mean to help you, child. And I'll prove it."
"As vill I, leetle one," Zinjo said, returning with a small bag in hand.
"'kay," Ashe said, the tension in her face relaxing a touch, before she pulled away.
"So you'll wake them and give them gold?" Ashe asked; the clinking sounds and outline of the contents told her the bag the giant held was full of coins. "Then they'll leave us alone?"
"Well, yes, but having them leave us alone is not my main goal." Isaura said. She took the bag, held it in front of Ashe and opened it. "Describe what you see."
As Ashe peered in, Zinjo looked at the sorceress quizically, remembering the countless times in their past when the woman had said those exact four words, in precisely the same tone, to Shea. And the expression on Isaura's face, well, Zinjo had seen so many sides of this powerful and complex woman over their many years together, and the side she showed now, of a mother, was the one he loved best.
"Coins, of course. Gold, lots of it. There's a jumble from all the kingdoms, Caphilian francs, Empire doubloons, even some of your Thyli Alarian talons, it's…"
Isaura almost interrupted Ashe with an 'our talons,' correction, because though the 'why' of her miraculous change was still a mystery, the 'what' was not, she was as Alarian as Isaura. But she decided not to push Ashe too fast.
"...hard to know how much is here, without counting, but..." Ashe hefted the bag slowly. "It weighs just under 25 pounds."
Isaura smiled at that; but of course Aesh the Alquimista would be skilled at weights and measurements.
"Anything else?"
Isaura's smile broadened into a grin; she loved seeing Ashe's mind in action. So sharp and precise. She sent a silent “Thank you” to Aana that after all Ashe endured -bizarre transformation, the sinister Torc, the Memory Cavern- somehow her facilities were all there and humming.
"Well, it glows, but I thought that was obvious."
"Do you see the glow, Zinjo?"
"No, witch woman," the giant grunted, stroking his long silver beard. "Zinjo is lucky to no be afflicted with cursed Alarian senses."
"What he means is, you - we - see more than mortals do," Isaura added, when she saw Ashe's confusion at Zinjo's words. "We are attuned to magic, because we are composed of magic ourselves."
"'I'm ...im-mortal now?" Ashe sounded lost again, stumbling over the concept.'Damn it' Isaura chided herself. 'I just told myself not to push her too fast, and then I turn around and do it.'
"Don't worry about it, Ashe," Isaura tried to sooth. "The 'glow' is a spell I've added and with a device I crafted from a sailor's compass, we can track it. Follow it."
"But why? Why would we want to do that? We need to... to..." Ashe looked stricken. "I mean, shouldn't we seek out healers to heal me, or... or... go to the Academy at Prolriams, and ask those brains to figure out what happened to me, or even go to Ymra's Temple, wherever it is, and beg her to change me back?"
"Ashe... Aesh..." Isaura gently placed her hand on Ashe's cheek. "You are tasked with stopping those who would cast this deadly disease into the Seven Kingdoms, Ailana Crow warned you of this-"
"-wait... wait... how did you know about her?"
"-I know many things, my love. But foremost I believe the path to solving your mystery is bound to finding who is releasing sickness as a weapon on Caphilians, Alarians, or others we haven't heard of yet - your Professor Breviar, and those allied with him. You'll have to trust me."
"Wait, what??? You know of him? You clearly know way more than you've told me. That doesn't inspire trust, Isaura. Give me one good reason to believe you, Isaura."
"Because I am the Queen of Wands."
Ashe's mouth flopped opened as understanding dawned, that - despite everything - she might be still on the path the fortune teller set, still hunting Breviar.
"Now, we have a platoon of frozen men to deal with," Isaura said, gently pushing a finger beneath the girl's chin to close her still open mouth. Then she walked directly in front of Captain Moris, preparing to lay a geas on him.
She paused. Geas were such a basic magic; simple compulsions to either compel one or prevent one from doing something. They were hard to lay on the Alarians, and Isaura wondered if Shea had already been weakened by this fabricated plague when one was laid on her.
Her disgust with her sister for beseeching a goddess to transform Aesh so she could get her rocks off using the Torc hadn't lessened. Instead of di'Sona's bizarre transformation request, she could have simply asked the goddess to heal Aesh, and then compelled him with a geas to tell all. But greater events were at play in the world, the arc of which was starting to take shape:
Someone created a plague, Blood Burn, or Breviar most likely. Two kingdoms she knew of were targeted, and the others probably had been targeted too. Ailana Crow warned of a massive death event. A goddess has directly intervened. And someone both betrayed her daughter and subjected her to geas. di'Sona's sadism remained indefensible, but Isaura was beginning to understand that for some greater purpose, maybe Aesh was meant to be Ashe, and together they were charged with trying to stop whatever calamity was headed for the Seven Kingdoms.
'Let's see where the good captain leads us.'
Isaura placed her thumb on the captain's forehead.
"When you awaken, you will happily accept this gold and leave immediately to deliver it to where you were ordered. And Captain, you will see that your men leave the girl alone. Anything to add, Ashe?"
"Only this."
The young Alarian girl walked to where Corporal Fynn stood frozen. Smiling mischievously, she reached both hands around his waist, and yanked his wool leggings all the way down to his ankles.
"Why look! You're just as ugly below as you are above, you... you..." Aesh bit her lower lip, composing an appropriate curse, "...scruffy-looking dickwhistle piper."
"Oh, ho, ho, ho! Iz best joke yet! Oh, ho, ho, ho!"
Zinjo's laughter could be heard over the roar of the Falls, even as the giant bounded away to hide.
Isaura laughed too, as she chanted the reversal spell to unfreeze the men. She couldn't help it; Aesh was too damn funny. In other circumstances she could see herself growing really fond of this girl. Circumstances where Aesh hadn't been the instrument of Shea's death.
5.
"C'mon! I know you have questions, I can hear them rattling around in your head. Spit them out, Ashe."
Ashe hadn't spoken since the Rangers had taken the gold and left. That wasn't exactly true, because the look on the corporal's face when he realized he was suddenly half-naked made her snicker more than once as they broke camp.
But on the trail, in semi-hot pursuit following the platoon, the girl grew quiet.
"Suit yourself, sweetie, but wrap a blanket around yourself at least."
"Why?”
"We'll follow them well past sundown, I bet, since they are in a hurry to return to Glesea with our gold. It will only get colder and you already have your arms wrapped around yourself."
When Ashe's only response was to blush, it dawned on Isaura what was actually making the girl hold her body so.
"Oh!" Isaura watched the girl when their wagon bounced over another trail bump, "do your breasts need support?"
"Support? Oh! Yes. These...my..." Ashe growled in frustration. "These... are flopping ...from the bumpy road, and they hurt."
"Go back inside," Isaura motioned with her head to the wagon cabin. "In Shea's closet -that's the furthest one - in the drawer at the bottom, look for some fabric bands. Bring one back."
"They'll help?" Ashe asked as she rose, swaying with the movement of the wagon as she walked inside.
"Oh!" Isaura had a thought. "Bring her hand mirror, too."
"A mirror?" Isaura heard the girl rummaging around. "Why? Do you need to signal Zinjo or something?"
"Or something."
When Ashe returned, she held a purple fabric belt, in one hand, and the hand mirror in the other.
"That's it." Isaura said, taking the belt and mirror from her, and handing back the reins in exchange.
"Keep em steady; this will just take a sec."
Isaura moved behind her, and cinched it under her breasts, tying it in back.
"Better? I wear one under my robes, but it can be worn over your blouse, too."
Ashe did a little shimmy with her chest, and relaxed her shoulders a touch.
"Yes. Better. Thanks. What a pain."
She handed the reins back and scooted over in the front seat to make room for Isaura. Once she settled in, Isaura handed the mirror back.
"What am I supposed to do with this? Flash it in the sunlight so Zinjo will-"
"You are supposed to look in it, Ashe."
Ashe slipped the mirror under her thigh.
"Nope."
"Take a peek, please," Isaura asked gently. "It's important for you to at least be aware of how you look-"
"-Those peaks over there are pretty-"
Ashe pointed to the craggy capped range to the southeast. Though their trail still tracked the Aalt River, it no longer carved through the gorge, instead gurgling near the path at ground level.
"-Are they the Brein Slopes? I've heard so much about them, the amazing cattle they-"
"-you can't do this! It's been hours since you awakened in the Cavern, to find this transformation has happened. Yet you won't even-"
"-even what? Admit this has happened? Arrrrgh!"
Ashe pulled off her gypsy cap and crumpled it into a ball. She wanted to punch something, but this would have to do. But when a gust of winter wind rustled through nearby pines before nipping at her eyes, she uncrumpled it and slipped it back on.
"I've let you call me by a different name, agreed to wear these clothes, and am sitting beside you as we chase a glowing bag of gold. That sounds pretty damned accepting to me!"
"But you won't look at yourself, love..."
Isaura shook the reins to encourage the team to keep the pace up. Though Zinjo scouted ahead on his stout Uthain mare Tasha, and wouldn't lose the platoon, they didn't want to let the soldiers get too far ahead of their slower moving wagon.
"...and you barely touch yourself. I have no idea how long you must remain as you are…"
'A beautiful Alarian,' Isaura added mentally, 'on the cusp of womanhood,'
"...but you can't live - for however long that may be - detached from your body. It's-"
"-Why can't I?" Ashe's voice slipped an octave up, sounding very much the teen her body showed.
"Like you said, it's only been hours since I awoke in the cave. Excuse me all to hells if I don't instantly embrace my new womanhood with... with... I don't know... joyous fucking weeping!"
"Joyous fucking weeping?" Isaura asked, doing her very best to hold back a snarky grin. "Really? And what's with all the creative cursing? You've got quite the little mouth on you."
"Don't you dare laugh at me," Ashe said. "And my nickname isn't, er wasn't -arrrgh!- Aesh the Impious for nothing."
"Just look, please?"
"Fine, if it will shut this whole stupid conversation down," Ashe whipped the mirror up and in front of her face. "There. Satisfied? Because... oh!"
Ashe blinked, blinked more, and then blinked again. Her mouth opened and her free hand flew to her cheek.
Isaura read the wonder in Ashe's face; for of all the things Ashe might have expected, to see a flawless Alarian young woman staring back -with smooth peach skintone, the softest hint of blush, pouty red lips and ice blue eyes that - was not one of them.
"I'm... I'm…"
"Beautiful."
"No!" Ashe slapped the mirror under her thigh again. "That's so not me."
"For now, it is. And you must accept it. I worry for what may happen to you, both mentally and physically, if you don't."
Ashe's eyebrow arched; Isaura knew a skeptical look when she saw one.
"Don't believe me? Right now, I bet you have to pee, but have been holding it in because don't want to see your new, um equipment."
"Oh-my-gods! I can't believe you just said that.”
"Well, have you?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, while you were holed up in the wagon, muttering to someone named di'Sona…"
'Of course she could hear that,' Isaura thought, 'she has Alarian hearing too.'
"...I snuck behind a bush and ...went."
"And?"
"And can we please not talk about this anymore? Please? I'm begging you."
"Sure, sweetie, of course."
Isaura smiled, pleased with Ashe's state of mind; as painful as the conversation was for the girl, she showed she was processing her transformation. Isaura was, however, unprepared for the girl's next question.
"Who's Shea?"
"S-Shea? Why do you ask?"
"Her closet. Her clothes. I'm guessing one of those beds is hers. She obviously has traveled with you. I've heard you whisper her name. I was just wondering who she is."
"My daughter."
"No way! You're too young to have a daughter in her teens."
"It's kind of you to say," Isaura said, trying hard to hold back her tears. "But remember, I'm 98 years old."
"Oh, that's right. Is she like 65 or something? You Alarians absolutely slay me with the whole forever lifespan. I thought it was a myth."
"No myth; age will not kill us, though other things do…"
'Like knives through our hearts…'
"... She would have been ten years older now than when she wore the clothes you're wearing."
It was so hard at that moment for Isaura to sit next to the very being who ended her daughter's life and sent her soul to the Summerland. Yes, it wasn't Ashe's fault. Yes, Shea compelled it. Still, it was Ashe's hand that drove the blade in.
"So she's about 26?" Ashe asked, missing the past tense Isaura used. "That's just a few years older than I... it's only a few years older than my old body's age. She'd be good to talk to about all this. Do you think I'll ever get to meet her? I wish she was here now."
The iron bonds Isaura had wrapped around her heart since Shea's death suddenly unspun completely and a tidal wave of anguish grief and bitter tears - held back for so long - swept out.
6.
"Oh! It says here that 84,542 humans live in City of Glesea. Also, 470 elves and almost 5,000 dwarves. And 411 Taverns. That means there must be barrels and barrels of ale."
Ashe tried again to engage Isaura, just as she had the entire previous day, while they kept pace with the Caphilian Rangers, tracking them with the sorceress' strange compass. She even substituted the word 'elves' for Alarians in the text, hoping it would spur Isaura to correct her, but... no response.
Looking up from the atlas, Ashe frowned; with each mile they traveled toward Glesea the fog grew thicker. She forced another smile, trying another approach.
"Did you know fog is formed by a warm moist air mass blowing over a cold surface, which in the summer can happen when the warm air from the land meets a cold ocean. Funny this happening in winter though."
When Isaura mumbled, 'how nice,' Ashe thought 'well, another brilliant idea goes down in flames.'
If she wasn't lost enough, now the one person the fortune teller said could aid her wouldn't speak to her. Ashe even wondered if Isaura's vow to help, so reassuring to her yesterday, had been rescinded. Desperate, she lowered her head back to the atlas to try again.
"Ha! One of the Taverns is called 'Ye Merry Ball and Chain!'" Ashe said, flipping a page. She discovered the atlas when she was rummaging through Isaura's book chest; Aesh's number one vice was his love of books, and that passion hadn't dimmed in the slightest now the he was she. This peculiar atlas seemed unnaturally up to date, even to the extent that she noticed the numbers changing: one moment the nearby town of Barcombe had a population of 400, but when she looked again, it showed 401.
'Isaura's magic.'
"Oh, and Glesea has 300 fishmongers. Something seems very fishy about that."
"Hmm? Oh, that's because it's Caphilia's only port city," Isaura answered, in now familiar vacant tone.
Not even a polite groan at Ashe's awful joke.
She closed the atlas with a soft sigh. She knew she'd hurt Isaura, and deeply, because the woman sobbed for hours after she asked her about Shea. She had absolutely no idea why, though.
After Isaura finally stopped crying and went into the wagon compartment to sleep away a crushing migraine, Ashe drove the wagon by herself, watching the magic compass as they went. That night at their campfire, while Isaura slept, Zinjo resolved some of the mystery. He told her Shea died two months ago. He went further, telling her though Isaura had grieved, and obviously was still grieving, Shea's death was a soul wound for the sorceress that she’d ignored too long.
'Until I opened my big turd wanking mouth.'
The giant said it was heartbreaking when Shea and Isaura become estranged several years ago, and just when he thought they were ready to reconcile last year, communications with Shea went silent. He knew Isaura hadn't truly accepted her daughter's death, and though Ashe's innocent comment was unfortunate, he saw it as pushing the healing process forward.
With every conversation she had with the giant, Ashe's respect for his wisdom grew.
Of course, Ashe still felt horrible. She’d been clueless, so Isaura must have known she meant no ill intent, but even so, Isaura could barely look at her the entire following day.
Also, though Zinjo solved much of the mystery, he replaced it with another, for when she asked how Shea died, he gave her a sad look, shook his head and turned away. She got no further information from him, either.
She opened the atlas once more and poured over the maps of the Seven Kingdoms, looking for the place where Ymra's Temple stood.
'If Isaura - the Queen of Wands as she'd claimed she was - is done with me, then maybe Crow's prophecy has sort of petered out, or I've failed or... or... I don't know what... but I need a plan when they dump me.'
Originally she thought to make her way to Edefia first, but now her reasoning led her to want to travel to Ymra's Temple and beg her to change her back.
'Maybe I could then still track Breviar and…'
"Oh, this is bad."
Isaura's voice startled her, and she looked up from the atlas, to see Zinjo had rejoined them. Isaura had stopped the team, and they stood in front of sign tacked to a tree: Skull and bones with yellow slashes below, the common road sign warning for quarantine.
"I find city gates closed tight," Zinjo said. "Ranger solders entered main gate one hour ago."
"Ashe, let me see that atlas you were reading."
Ashe's eyebrows raised; for all the malaise Isaura had fallen in over the past day and a half, she was action now. She handed Isaura the book.
Let's see, Glesea, Glesea," Isaura flipped through the pages. "Walls, walls, walls...here! Zinj, look!"
"Iz on south side." Zinjo peered over the map with his giant head. "Iz secret entrance."
"Hey, what kind of an atlas is this?" Ashe asked peering at the map showing on the open page. It was a detailed street drawing of Glesea; a small wall section on the south side glowed red.
"Oh, just the 7th Edition of the Atlas of the Seven Kingdoms," Isaura answered. She wiggled the fingers of her right hand and bright sparks popped from them. "I juiced it up a bit."
Isaura frowned, thinking. Then she pulled a coin from her robe.
Cuir a-steach am. Cuir a-steach am.
She handed it to the giant, who flipped the coin once and slipped it in his pocket.
"How long?"
"Eight hours. Should be plenty of time."
"Now fun begins, eh leetle Ashe?" Zinjo moved away from the wagon and bounded into the fog. His voice called back, "do not vorry, we professionals."
"Professionals? Professional what’s?” But Zinjo had already disappeared into the fog. “Hey! Where’s he going?"
"The secret gate we'll enter through needs to be opened from the inside. That's where he's headed."
"Um, even in the fog, Zinjo's going to stand out," Ashe said, biting her lower lip and staring at the place in the thick mist where the giant disappeared. "My first time to see the Serene Sea, and it's covered in this crap!"
'The first time you remember,' Isaura amended internally.
"He'll be fine, I gave him a portable glamour."
"The coin?"
"Mmmhm. I cast a 'nothing to see here' spell on it. When he holds it in his hand, people are - quite literally - compelled to look past him."
"Are you sure it works? I didn't see any difference at all," Ashe said.
"Ah, but that's because you're now - what term did you not so subtly substitute for Alarian in your atlas readings?- an elf ...and we elves are immune to glamours."
"You were listening!"
"I always am, on some level." Isaura shook the reins on the team and then pulled left. They were going to have to travel around the high fortified Glesean walls to reach the hidden gate where Zinjo would meet them.
An awkward silence fell on Ashe; after a day and a half wanting to talk with Isaura, and to beg her forgiveness for whatever she said, she now struggled to voice the words. Instead she looked up at the massive limestone walls that lined the city.
Conceptually, she understood the need for defensive walls. Her history lessons taught her Caphilia, with its agricultural abundance, was a prime target for any other kingdom finding itself in famine times. But the reality was so foreign to her.
"Wow, these walls sure are high."
'Really? That's the best ice breaker I can come up with?'
"There are exactly zero cities in Ogda that have walls like these."
"Oh? Interesting. I've been there a few times over the years but didn't particularly notice the lack of them," Isaura answered. "You were right about something else. Fog rolls in here during summer months, not now. This is unnatural."
"As in magic unnatural?"
"After decades of intense and comprehensive studies," Isaura answered, “I've found that's the only kind of unnatural there is."
“Magic!” Ashe growled in frustration; she longed for the neat clarity of her old alquimista world, where 1+1 equaled 2 and the sun rose in the east and set in the west.
They settled into a long silence as their wagon made progress along the city walls. That silence itself became a weight, much like the fog. There was something unnatural about the silence, too; they heard no sounds coming from the city. Caphilia's capitol city and bustling seaport was as quiet as a cemetery. Not a bird chirp nor even wind sound. All Ashe could hear was the clop, clop of hooves; their team in front, and Zinjo's Uthain mount Tasha trailing behind where she was tethered.
Ashe had to break it. "I-Isaura? I'm... I'm so sorry for hurting you with what I said the other day. About your daughter."
"Don't dwell on it, Ashe," Isaura said, spurring the team on. Much as she wanted to, she shouldn't take her hurt out on the girl. For she knew the truth of it. If anything, she should be begging Ashe's forgiveness, for what she had planned to do to her mind back at the Cavern.
"It wasn't your fault..." Isaura said, snapping the reins again.
The thick fog was making the horses skittish, and Isaura knew they had no time to waste. Her compass showed the platoon was still on the move, working their way through the city to, she guessed, the place where the Caphila army collected the ransom Captain Moris described. Her mind grew distracted by multitudes of questions.
'The entire city is quarantined? What is the nature of the sickness? How widespread is it? How is the ransom delivered, and what antidote do they receive in return?'
"...and...you didn't mean to do it."
"Do it?" Ashe asked, confused now. "Do what?"
"Say it, I meant," ’Damn it!’ Isaura was quick to correct her mistake. "You didn't know my daughter was ... was... you didn't know, so don't worry."
It was the most unconvincing 'I forgive you,' Ashe had ever heard. But what could she do?
It didn't help matters when a ghostly figure appeared at the top of the section of the city wall they were near and wailed, his voice echoing through the eerie mist:
"Flee! Flee! All is pestilence and plague! Soon Lord Reaper will walk our streets, swinging his scythe. Fleeeeeeeeee!!!!"
"What are we doing here?" Ashe whispered, unnerved.
"Aana's work."
"That makes no-"
"-Not everything has to make sense!" Isaura snapped. "Seek knowledge, show compassion. Always. This Aana requires of us. Eventually all falls into place if you do."
"-That is so not a catchy slogan. Who thinks up those things for her? And if you think everything is 'falling into place', you are daft."
"-I see now why Ailana Crow smacked you upside your head."
"-How do you know so much about the reading she gave to-"
"-Hush. We're here."
'Here' didn't look any different than anywhere else along the long city wall to Ashe, but Isaura reined the horses to a stop.
"Hop off and knock on the wall."
Ashe jumped down, and stood next to the wall.
"Here?"
After Isaura nodded, Ashe rapped the stone with her knuckles.
"Ouch."
"Try a little further down." Isaura waved the direction with her hand.
After several more raps and movements down the wall, after Ashe knocked, she heard a knock back.
"I-Isaura??"
"I heard. Stand back." Ashe stepped back a couple of steps, which made Isaura shake her head. "No, waaaaay back."
Not two seconds after Ashe jumped back a few more steps, an entire section of the wall started swinging out. It made a loud scraping noise as it did.
"Quiet as a mouse indeed," Isaura mumbled. "Thank the goddess we have this fog cover at least."
Slipping into the wagon compartment, Isaura emerged with a hooded robe; a smaller version of the one she wore. She handed it to Ashe.
Ashe was quick to slip it on, too. Though the breeches, leggings and heavy tunic she wore would have been enough for a typical winter day, the moisture from the fog chilled her bones, and she welcomed the warmth.
The scraping stopped, and a looming figure stepped out of the fog.
"Shall ve, ladies? I suspect not much time iz left."
Ashe started to take issue with the 'ladies' remark, but a clear 'not now' glare from Isaura made her reconsider. Isaura pulled her tracking compass from her robe and watched as the needle stilled.
"You suspect correctly. They've stopped moving." She climbed back on the wagon front and pocketed the compass before sitting again on the wagon seat.
"And where they've stopped is just about where the treasury building should be according to the atlas. I think..." Isaura took the compass back into her robes, "we have time for a quick detour. I hate running blind."
"Nine Lives?" Zinjo frowned. "That weaselly killer is incapable of telling truth!"
"I know," Isaura smiled. It's what makes him so reliable. Hop on, Ashe, unless you want to wait here and sunbathe. Zinjo, what's the city like?"
"Iz quiet like death." Zinjo went to the front of the horse team, as Ashe scrambled back on the wagon. The giant grabbed Sugarmane's collar, and with a gentle tug, led the team through the open space in the wall.
As the wagon rolled through, Ashe frowned. "I thought when you said secret door you meant like, I don't know, a cleverly disguised wooden door that opens when secret words are spoken."
"Did you? How romantic! I had no idea Aesh the plodding Alquimista read fantasy stories," Isaura said, giggling. "The truth is the occasional less-than-honest work crew will leave something unfinished, like this wall section, which is unpiered, thinking there might be those willing to pay for the knowledge."
"And your atlas tells you these things? Where weaknesses are in every city’s defenses?"
"Yes, but so much more! It tells me any number of helpful facts, even where the best places to get bizzo are!"
"I love a thin crusted bizzo, hot from the oven, covered in tomatoes and cheese," Ashe said, her voice sounding dreamy.
"Mmmm, my favorite, too," Isaura added. “I did once asked the atlas where the best bizzo in the Seven Kingdoms was and highlighted a little town off the southeast tip of the Keoba Dynasty called Kudarala.”
“Seriously?” Ashe asked, licking her lips, “gods I can’t imagine-”
“-AHEM”, Zinjo growled, trying to steer the two women back on track.
"Anyway,” Isaura continued, frowning briefly at the giant, “some might worry that a book like this would be dangerous in the wrong hands. But the world has nothing to worry over; I almost never misuse it."
If Isaura expected Ashe to laugh at her joke she was disappointed; like a serious alquimista, Ashe's attention was already fixed on the massive thickness of the wall section. It would take dozens of men, or teams of horses to move it, yet Zinjo had managed it alone. That meant he, too, must be a creature of magic, to possess such strength. Yet another reminder of the magical world she now swam in.
'I have so much to learn.'
But she didn't frown, though. Whether Aesh or Ashe, one thing was certain, she loved to learn.
Chapter 3
1.
The dock district, Caphilia
"This sucks, sucks, sucks.…"
Alex Nine Lives thwacked a nasty blade into the wooden table he sat at, a move he'd done countless times, evidenced by the deep and numerous gouge marks in the table's surface. The blade was almost clean now, only a small blood smudge showed at the hilt. Muttering some choice words, he peered out his shop window into the fog outside.
'An I liked Mad Dog, too.’
Alex was referring to Mad Dog Drake, who lay dead in the shop's stock room in back. Interesting business, that; Mad Dog came down with the Wasting as had so many others. When he wouldn't leave so Alex wouldn't get it too…
‘Well, couldn't leave, to be fair, he'd been too weak to fart, even,’
...Alex stabbed him in the chest. Even he admitted it wasn't the most well thought out plan. But once he'd done that, all signs of the disease on Mad Dog - the red eyes, the splotchy pale skin - vanished. Now he had a dead body on his hands with an incriminating death-wound.
'Wouldn't be the first time…'
Alex didn't fret over his partner's death too much. No, what burrowed under his skin, worse than a flea he couldn't scratch or a tick he couldn't squeeze, was someone was working an enormous scam on the Caphilian government, and Alex wanted in. He played every angle he could think to, even managing to weasel his way into the confidence of some strange wizards at the Dwarven Bar down at the dock district the other day, before the king closed it and every other business in Glesea down with the stroke of a quill.
'Curfew, he says. Robbing the money right from me pocket, says I.'
Alex thought again of the wizards. He'd had bad luck with the cursed lot, and one female wizard in particular, but he knew these blokes were in on the heist. They were already in his debt; he'd fingered that snooping elf girl to them. And they said they would 'reward him handsomely' if he passed along more tips about anyone fishing about this plague business.
He didn't give two shits about handsome rewards, he wanted his cut of the action.
"I swear to Aana, Nine Lives, you haven't bathed since last time we spoke, what two, three years ago?"
Somehow the one wizard he feared most had materialized in front of him.
"Aieeeee!" Alex would have fallen over backwards if Zinjo, who had crept in the back door, hadn't caught his chair.
"Mistress Isaura?" Alex recognized the Alarian beauty in a flash. In his second flash, he recalled the last time they'd been together, when he’d tried to cheat her.
"So good to see you. About last time... I can explain…"
"Oh, do shut up!" Isaura said, as she and Ashe walked in, Ashe shutting the rickety door behind them. "Are we clear?"
"Iz dead body in back room, Isaura. Iz Mad Dog Drake, I tink. Otherwise good." Zinjo swept the knife off the table in a blur of motion. The blade looked comically small in his huge paw. "Thank you, Nine Lives, Zinjo needed toothpick."
"I'd wash it first, Zinjo," Ashe said.
"I can explain," Alex blurted. "He had the Wasting Plague-"
"-or a Plague of Knives. Maybe just leetle plague - one in chest?" Zinjo said, twirling the blade with a dexterity unexpected for such a huge hand. Then he sighed. "I always liked Mad Dog, except when he'z mouth foamed."
"Shea?" Alex looked at Ashe, who stood just behind Isaura. She hadn't pulled back her hood as the sorceress had, but the con man could see her face. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon... I hope you remember how much I helped and will tell your mum that... hey, didn't you tell me you and she split a few years ago? It so warms this old heart to see you've made up."
'Shea was here?' Isaura thought.
"Oh no," Ashe started to say, "I'm not -"
"Hush, sweet," Isaura interrupted. She wasn't sure whether Ashe's next words would have been 'her daughter' or 'a woman' but she didn't want Alex's error corrected just yet. There was information to be learned. "Let me talk with Mr. Nine Lives. He needs to be handled just so."
"-You're a piece of work, Alex," Isaura continued, giving Alex the stare she knew made him squirm. "I need information. Help me, and I’ll forget about how you tried to sell me a bogus Tome of Solitude."
"I swear I didn't know. They..." Alex broke into a sweat, and not from the plague. "They tricked me too! That's it!"
"You poor man. So misunderstood." Isaura turned to Ashe and motioned her head to toward another wooden chair near some stock selves, "Go sit, Shea, this may take a while."
Isaura watched Ashe blink only once in confusion, before understanding lit her eyes. She walked to the chair to sit, saying only:
"Yes, mother."
Those words almost undid the sorceress.
Maybe the resemblance snuck up on her, for when she took her from di'Sona, her face was gaunt and hair cut short. But now... and her voice too, though slightly higher, reminded her so much of her daughter's. There was something so familiar about her.
'Keep it together. Keep. It. Together.'
"Now, my good friend, Zinjo and I are going to ask you some questions about this 'cure' sold to King Alfan. If you are helpful, I'd be willing to forget the Tome unpleasantness."
"And if I don't?"
A huge hand grasp his shoulder. He felt the incredible strength in it - the grip was like iron! - and Alex was certain Zinjo could snap his shoulder blade with little effort.
"If Alex doesn't answer, then, sad to say he's not Zinjo's friend. You do vant be my friend, yes?"
"Yes! I do, I do!"
Alex slipped his hand in his pocket and crushed a small disk his new wizard friends had given him. They said it would alert them and they would find him as quickly as they could.
"Oh goody, what a relief," the sorceress said, trying hard and almost succeeding in keeping her snarky grin contained.
"Tell all you can of this plague and the people who sell its cure, Alex," Isaura started rattling off questions in rapid succession:
"When did it first appear? Who are the people who sell the cure? When and how do they come to collect the ransom? Have you met them?...”
Alex mumbled such answers as he could:
"the Wasting started two weeks ago, spread like wildfire, the ship of black sails arrived 10 days ago, to give the fat king his cure and to demand the ransom. They said they'd come again with the rest of the cure tomorrow night…"
Yet with each answer, he cast a nervous glance to the shop entrance. It wasn't lost on Isaura; summoning discs were basic wizards' fare, and she sensed the moment Alex activated his. She hoped whoever was coming would arrive soon, she was fast running out of questions for this idiot not to know the answers to.
With an explosive blast, three robed and hooded figures burst through the shop door. Their robes were floor length and black, and even though hooded, they further had wrapped black scarves around their faces.
"She's been asking questions about the plague an who you are!" Alex squealed, "and about our operation and so I broke your disc just as you asked-"
"Shut up, scum! Or I'll shut you up permanently!" the middle wizard shouted. The three scanned the room to take inventory of who they faced.
"But she's a wizard just like you, and the giant is-"
"I warned you."
An energy bolt flew from the wand of the wizard who had spoken, hitting Alex in his chest, leaving a gaping -and messy- hole where it had been. Alex, or what was left of him, slumped over.
"So ends the life of Alex Nine Lives, who from the look of things, was down to his last life," Isaura said, standing to face the three.
"Not a nice way to go, even for one as nasty as Alex," Isaura whispered to Zinjo. "A shame, really, he was my best informant in Glesea."
"But every word out of his mouth was a lie," Zinjo whispered back, as he too rose to face the trio.
"Yes, but that's why he was so valuable; I could count on him to lie."
"Shut up, or you'll get the same."
"Oh, I think not," Isaura replied, her wand somehow in her hand, too, which was pointed at the wizards.
The wizard to the right of the one who'd blasted Alex stepped forward, and pointed to an amulet draped from his neck.
"Whatever pitiful magic you may possess is useless, witch, for this is the Amulet of Binding. It has neutralized your powers already."
"Now, on pain of death, who are you and why do you seek to know about the plague?"
"On pain of death? Yes! Let us talk of that pain." Sparks flew from Isaura's wand but fizzled in front of it and then faded quickly with soft popping.
"Hey! What's wrong? My powers! I can't..." She tried to look alarmed, but soon a giggle burst from her lips. "I try so hard, but I can't keep a straight face!"
"Iz why you lose to me in cards every time."
"You won't be laughing when I-" the middle wizard never finished that sentence, for a solid energy stream shot from Isaura's wand, split into three beams, and wrapped around the waists of the wizards. With the flick of her wrist, she slammed them into a shop wall with a splintering crunch.
"Goddess! I hope you didn't spend too much on your 'Amulet of Binding.' Are we good?" The sorceress glanced at Zinjo, and then Ashe, who looked three shades paler. Her eyes were fixed on the gruesome mess that used to be Alex Nine Lives. "Close your eyes and take a breath, sweetie."
"I... I think I'm going to... to..." Ashe stood, wobbled a little, and ran to the stock room.
"No! Don't go back! Iz filled with..." Zinjo shouted, trying to warn Ashe, but she moved too fast to heed it. After she screamed, he mumbled the rest of the warning, "...other dead body."
Zinjo rushed back too when he heard her retching.
Isaura turned back to the three wizards, who were squirming futiley in their energy bands.
"I am very angry with you. Do not displease me further. Answer each of my questions, or..." with another wrist flick, the bands circling the wizards' waists cinched further, making them groan. "...you'll have the unique pleasure of feeling your stomachs shooting out of your mouths."
"I don't know who you are, witch," the first wizard said, "but you'll have no answers from us. A sorceress far more powerful than you has placed us under a geas of loyalty. You'd be wise to let us go."
"Ah! That's helpful."
And it was; she knew she now needed to take a different approach with this trio. Isaura lowered and pocketed her wand, extinguishing the beams. The constriction bands around their arms and waists remained. Isaura pressed her thumb against their foreheads one by one. "And speaking of being helpful…"
"W-what did you do?" the second wizard asked, shaking his head as if he had something stuck to it.
"Why nothing at all," except to apply a geas of my own, to encourage helpfulness and obedience.
"Please, tell me your names."
"D-d-d-don't do it," the third wizard said; pain crossing his face as the two geas clashed, "t-t-t-t-t-tell her nothing!"
"Oh, come now," Isaura said smiling, her voice full of sweetness. "It would be disloyal of you not to. If I don't know your names, how can I tell your mistress how loyal you've been if I see her?"
'T-t-t-that's... true..." The pain in the man's face eased as Isaura's powerful geas managed to burrow under the prior geas. "I-I'm Hupan."
"Uyus," said a second.
"Eqor," offered the third.
"Good lads," Isaura clapped her hands and smiled.
The wizards smiled too, or grinned rather stupidly would be a better description. Isaura's 'helpful and obedient' geas rewarded the spelled person with a feeling of pleasure when he or she answered in a way that drew her praise. She never understood why others used torture to illicit information. First, it was morally reprehensible, and counter to Aana's teachings. And second, it was ineffective.
‘Carrots are so much better than sticks.’
Many, many years ago, when she was an Alarian teen, Isaura ran away from her family's duchy in Beurl'Aana, to escape her older sister's constant cruelty, and her parents even crueler indifference. If she stayed, she would have murdered Elasha. Instead, she and enrolled in the School of Sorcery at Grarinns. And by happy chance, she studied geases under the wizard Eijolore, a true master of the form.
"Oh my, they all sound like good honest Yaran names. Are you from the States of Yara?"
"We are," Eqor answered, and proudly. Nothing disloyal about saying that.
"Oh how wonderful!" Isaura smiled, and the wizards did too. "And wouldn't it be ever so helpful for us all to forget about our fighting? I would be so very pleased if you would. Only remember you zapped Mr. Nine Lives because he was going to blurt out information about her. He was so disloyal."
The men believed that too. Their eyes glazed and they looked confused for a moment. With another flick of her wrist, the energy bands around the men vanished.
Ashe and Zinjo returned from the stock room then; the girl had regained most of her coloring. She took care to not look at Alex's body. Zinjo picked up the body by the rope belt Alex wore and carried it back into the stock room. Isaura figured he would lay it next to Mad Dog's body; business partners reunited.
"What the hells are you doing back here, Shyilia?" Uyus said, frowning at Ashe. "You should be with ...her."
Uyus's eyes widened, and he shot a worried glance - 'have I said too much?' - at Hupan and Eqor.
For that was the way a geas worked, it operated on the spelled person's belief. If a person under a loyalty geas believed he was being disloyal, the geas activated and struck, stopping the person's heart. Even if the person was wrong, it was what he believed that mattered. Isaura's mind raced with possibilities; there were ways around the geas of this mysterious 'her'.
She paused though, something tickled at the back of her brain - yet again Ashe was mistaken for Shea, because the 'Shyilia' they referred to could be no one other than her Shea. It was one of her daughter's favorite 'gypsy disguise' names she used when they traveled together.
Oh Shea!
Isaura looked at Ashe closely. She supposed the reoccurring mistaken identity was partly due to the fact that humans tended to think all 'elves' looked alike, so mistaking one young 'elf girl' for another wasn't surprising. Yet, more and more, even Isaura had to admit Ashe did resemble the way her Sheala looked in her teens. Smaller by a few inches, and slightly curvier, too, but her face... her eyes...
Isaura gave herself a mental jolt -
'Now is not the time to explore this!'
In thinking about it, she doubted these 'wizards' actually caught her daughter. More likely Shea let herself be captured to further her mission; she didn't think herself to be in true danger, and letting these fools deliver her to their mistress was just what she wanted.
"She should be indeed," Isaura improvised, sounding angry, but giving Ashe a glance which she hoped the girl read right. Ashe was proving to be so keen she expected her to.
Ashe blinked again, but only once, and then gave a quick nod.
"P-please don't send me back, good Sirs. I beg you!"
'Not a horrible piece of improvisation at all,' Isaura thought proudly, 'considering all she'd been through in the past days, and only moments ago witnessing a brutal killing.'
Zinjo grasped Isaura's improvisation too, and acted his part. He moved behind Ashe and grabbed her shoulders, as if to hold her in place.
"Not another word from you," Isaura snapped at Ashe. "I see now we are on the same side. It is unfortunate Mr. Nine Lives mistakenly summoned you here. He panicked when the spy returned. But his loose lips were a liability for sure. You served her well by killing him…"
The wizards smiled again at that.
"...and she... most definitely wants this traitorous spy back. I would be so very pleased if you would help me serve her. How do we return her as quickly as possible?"
The two geases now worked together, as Isaura hoped; to the wizards, it now seemed to them that helping Isaura was being loyal to their mistress.
"The Havock arrives tomorrow to deliver the antidote serum, if King Alfan has the ransom," Hupan said, straightening his robe. "We could deliver her bound to Captain Angove. Tell him to see her taken directly to our mistress."
"Angrove?" Isaura had heard of him, a well-known pirate and rogue. "When did she hire him? Last I heard he bedeviled the merchant ships of Khedel Empire."
"She only hires the best," Eqor said, smiling, because saying that surely must be loyal. And it reflected well on them too.
"Which dock should I deliver the traitor to?" Isaura asked.
"Pier 3, though The Havock will be easy enough to find," Eqor answered. Isaura was pretty certain by now he was the leader. "It will be the only one there. All other vessels have fled the harbor for fear of the plague and several dropped warning buoys at the harbor's mouth."
'That could be a problem,' Isaura thought.
She needed one more piece of information, before she sent these murderous idiots on their way: The Havock's destination.
Isaura was certain asking directly would activate the loyalty geas in opposition again. Also, if these low level hacks were spelled, she fully expected all others involved in this deadly blackmail scheme - for that's what it was looking like to Isaura at this point - would be under similar geas. Whih meant the crew and Captain Angrove wouldn't provide the destination port for the ransom either.
So instead of asking where the ship was going, Isaura decided to learn the next best thing.
'Wizard Eqor, it is important the spy be taken to her as quickly as possible." Isaura swung her head one way, then the other, pretending to see if others were present. She whispered, "Do not tell me the name of The Havock's next port of call. There may be more spies hidden nearby.”
The wizards nodded; that made sense.
"Merely let me know where The Havock's stop is in the ransom collection. If it is bound for other kingdoms before returning to her, then I will arrange a faster way to return the spy."
Eqor blinked several times. What this female wizard asked didn't seem disloyal at all, and he did want to help her so very much.
"This will be The Havock's last stop before returning to her, having traveled already to the other six kingdoms."
'Ransom from ALL the kingdoms? Holy Aana!' Isaura thought. 'After its stop here, I bet The Havock will be laden with the biggest treasure in the history of the Seven Kingdoms! And it's in the hands of a notorious pirate. I hope whoever 'she' is has placed Angove under one pretty damn strong geas!'
"Gentlemen, I have one more favor to ask," Isaura beckoned. The three shuffled to her quickly, eager to do whatever she asked. When they were close, she whispered:
Ilsana
Isaura muttered "idiots" at the now frozen men, and walked to Zinjo and Ashe.
"Thoughts?"
"Iz your plan to chase The Havock over the sea?" Zinjo asked.
"I touched their geas, and whoever spelled them is powerful. I got as much from them as possible. 'Follow the money' is still the plan. The trail just got wetter."
"Getting ship iz going to be hard. You heard them say all ships gone."
"Yes," Isaura answered, "but there's always Plan B."
"Oh no!" Zinjo blanched. "Iz bad plan. I work extra hard on Plan A."
"Oh ye of little faith," Isaura said. She turned to Ashe. "You doing okay, sweetie? You're awfully quiet."
"I'm not sure," she answered, her voice quivering. "I've never seen someone killed before, and to see it happen like that…"
'Oh, but you have seen someone killed, Ashe, right beneath your eyes…'
"It's... I believe... I mean, life, all life, is sacred, and..." Ashe's gaze wandered first to the bloody mess at Alex's table, then to the door to the room that held two dead bodies. "Do you see this in your, um, business all the time?"
"See what, sweetie?"
"Life, thrown away, like... trash." She looked at Isaura, and then Zinjo, her eyes, pleading. "Do you do this too? Will you ...kill these men?"
"No, Ashe, we won't," Zinjo answered. "Though some might say they deserve death, iz not what we do. Will let them go…"
'Truth,' Isaura thought. She wished she could convince the girl that Zinjo and she, too, revered life. But words wouldn't do; Ashe would have to learn that fact from watching their actions.
Still, the girl was shaken, and Isaura needed her to not fall apart now, as they moved closer toward the true actors in this conflict. To her mind, more and more, all pointed toward Ashe having a pivotal role in its resolution.
"I could lay a gentle geas on you to make you lessen the memory, or even to completely forget it if you wish."
"No!" Ashe shook her head, almost in anger. Then her voice gentled. "No. I believe that when you boil it down, we are the sum of our memories, good and bad. I would not give up even this one."
Isaura and Zinjo exchanged worried looks, but before either could think of something to say, Ashe spoke again.
"Something else is bothering me. Well, something other than three human statues standing in front of me." Ashe shook her head, stood, and doing her best to ignore the frozen wizards, started pacing. "Something isn't right... this 'Wasting Plague'…"
"...I get that it incapacitates, or can incapacitate, an entire kingdom. But once they use the antidote, what's to stop the armies of a kingdom chasing down whoever created it and getting revenge?"
"Whoever iz doing must have insurance," Zinjo said. "Something to ensure kingdom that pays for antidote won't send army next day."
"Yes! And someone who has the knowledge to craft it," Ashe said, excitedly, "would also know how to make something far more deadly."
"How deadly?" Isaura asked, turning a touch pale herself. For she feared Ashe's intuition was spot on.
"Like ‘kill every living thing’ deadly," Ashe whispered.
"That," Zinjo whispered back, "iz good insurance."
"You know of one who could?" Isaura asked. "Is it Blood Burn? I mean, the one you call Breviar?"
"Breviar could, yes," Ashe answered softly. Thinking of the deaths she'd just seen reminded her of other, greater deaths in her past. To imagine that extending to everyone and everything was too much to bear.
"We three must have a lengthy talk about this man." She turned to Zinjo. "How long do you need to try to hire a ship?"
"Two hours? No more needed. I vill learn soon enough if all ships gone. Still have a few hours left on glamour. Meet you at Celemiril for dinner?"
After she nodded, Zinjo bowed to the two of them and bounded out the shop entrance.
"Celemiril?" Ashe stammered.
"Hmm? Oh, yes, I own tiny little places here and there across the kingdoms. I love traveling about with my wagon, but every so often I need a hot bath, an exquisite meal, and a down bed you can melt into. Now is one of those times, and Celemiril is one of those tiny places.
"Bath?"
"Yes! You're going to love it."
"Wait... me?"
"And Zinjo too."
"Together?"
Isaura burst into laughter. Ashe no doubt didn't appreciate it, but Isaura loved her reactions. They were so unfiltered and precious! After her laughter subsided, she walked to the frozen men.
"I need to wipe this entire encounter from the Fearsome Trio's minds. They must report in soon, and I don't want anyone alerted to our presence."
As she placed her thumb on each of their foreheads, she giggled.
"Together...hehehe... you are too funny, Ashe. Let's go and see, shall we? "
***
Isaura's 'tiny little house' in Glesea turned out to be a sprawling block-long whitestone building, filled with a dozen or more rooms - bedrooms, dining hall, kitchen, living room, walls painted with mosaics of the forests of Alari. And libraries. Many libraries. The rooms were all built around an inner courtyard which was a large lush and blooming garden, even in winter. Because underneath the garden bubbled a hot spring, forming a bathing pool and keeping the air greenhouse steamy.
Isaura and Ashe had waited only a moment at the massive wooden gate of the 'tiny little house', when a side window opened. The head of a little red-capped man poked through - Ashe was certain she saw a green hair tuft sticking out from under the cap - and the little man gave a soft whistle.
"Mistress Isaura! An... Mistress Sheala! This is a singularly superlative surprise!"
The gate swung open.
"Will the mistresses be staying long?" the little man looked hopeful.
"I wish we were staying longer, Peppenet, to enjoy your excellent hospitality. But alas, only this night."
Peppenet was crestfallen, but put on a bold face. "We cherish every moment we have with you, m'lady. Will Tiny be joining us this evening too?"
"Yes he will, Peppenet."
Isaura started to give the team a shake of the reins to move them to the stables, but the lead mare Sugarmane was well ahead of her, pulling forward, sensing a warm bed of hay, a scrumptious rub down, and sugar cube treats ahead.
Ashe's mouth dropped open. "Are they-"
"-Shhhh." Isaura clamped her hand over Ashe's mouth, and whispered, "do not call them gnomes. They are more offended by that than we are when humans call us elves. They prefer 'Fefnoir.'"
"But I thought the gn- er, Fefnoir were extinct."
"Sadly, they almost were," Isaura answered. "I give all those remaining sanctuary at my properties, and in return, they keep my places for me."
"Who's Tiny?"
"Oh, that's what they call Zinjo," Isaura chuckled. "They adore him."
A pack of diminutive Fefnoirs - the tallest being no more than three feet high - sprang into action at the stables, using a series of hanging ropes to swing from, and rope baskets lowered from the barn rafters to tend to the horses. Ashe was astonished at how quickly the tack was removed and stored. Then one or two Fefnoirs hopped onto each of the horses' backs, doing what appeared to be at first glance to Ashe a kind of clog dance. Only instead of clogs, the little men and women wore wire brushes on their feet. When she heard several of the horses neigh with pleasure, it occurred to her this was the Fefnoirs' way of giving the horses a soothing rubdown.
Isaura took Ashe by her arm and led her to the mansion's front door, where another army of Fefnoirs - the house staff – waited.
"Welcome to Celemiril Manor, Ashe. You have but one task in the hours we have here... to rest. Goddess knows you deserve one."
As they neared the door, a female Fefnoir stepped in front of the others and curtsied. She wore a cream long-sleeved blouse and spring green floor length skirt. Green, long layered hair framed a round warm face with gentle hazel eyes. Ashe liked her instantly.
"Piproos! How wonderful to see you again!" Isaura knelt to hug the tiny woman.
"Greetings, Mistress Isaura and Mistress Sheala," Piproos said, after she embraced Isaura. "I am-"
Piproos stopped mid-sentence to stare at Ashe.
"I see Peppenet was mistaken, the scoundrel. You are not Mistress Shea. If not for the ears, I would swear you are her twin."
"Ears?" Ashe whispered to Isaura, her hand straying to touch the point of one.
"Our ears stick out when we are young, and flatten to our heads as we enter our tweens. Yours are still adorable."
Isaura wasn't sure what the girl's hushed mutter that followed was word-for-word, but she was pretty sure it contained the phrase 'got your adorable right here...' Chuckling, the sorceress turned back to address Piproos.
"*Ahem* They are often mistaken for each other," Isaura said, "This is, um, Ashera Faeyra, my ...other daughter. She's been cloistered away at school for these past many years."
Isaura hated not being truthful with her beloved servant, but telling the truth meant explaining how Aesh became Ashe. She wasn't sure there were enough hours left in the day to do that.
It also meant telling Piproos about Shea's death. Piproos loved her daughter deeply, and the news would send all the Fefnoirs in the manor into mourning.
'That... needs to happen, and will. It will,' Isaura thought, but her will to do it wasn't there. 'But not tonight. Not tonight. Tonight I want Ashe to relax and enjoy. She needs it. For tomorrow the chase begins in earnest.'
"Mistress Isaura is often full of surprises, though this is a splendid one." Piproos curtsied again. "I welcome you to Celemiril Manor, Mistress Ashera. It will be my pleasure, and the pleasure of all Fefnoirs, to serve your every wish."
"Thanks, I..." Ashe was at a loss for words. No one had ever said such a thing to her. There was something she wanted to do, though; Piproos' warmth made her desire it. She knelt as Isaura had.
"May I ...hug you?"
"Of course, love," the diminutive woman said, throwing her arms around Ashe's neck. "I would be offended if you didn't."
When Ashe stood, Isaura leaned over and whispered in Piproos’ ear, who turned to the young Fefnoir girl beside her to whisper in her ear. She in turn giggled and took Ashe by her hand.
"I'm Pikwel!" the young Fefnoir said brightly, "You are to follow me, Mistress Ashera. I'll take you to your room and prepare you for your bath."
"I really don't think I..I need a ba-"
"-don't you dare refuse Pikwel's help. It would be an insult, and she would be disgraced," Isaura said. "You will let her serve you."
"Um, it seems I'm to do whatever you say, Pikwel," Ashe said, looking at Isaura to see how serious she was. Even from the short time she'd known the sorceress, Ashe could read her expression; it was very serious.
"Oh don't say that, Mistress Ashera," Pikwel answered, giggling and tugging her into the manor. "I can think of some pretty silly things to say. You are too funny."
"Yeah, guess I am," Ashe said, casting a look back to Isaura as the tiny girl dragged her to her bedroom. Seeing the bemused look on her face almost made her stick out her tongue.
"It seems like lately I'm just fucking hilarious."
***
"W-what am I supposed to do now, Pikwel?"
Ashe and Pikwel first visited Ashe's assigned bedroom, which was the most extravagant bedroom the girl had ever seen. At least from what she'd seen of it - Pikwel whisked her in and out before she could fully explore it. Because, as the diminutive woman had cheerfully piped:
"Bath time. You stink"
Rich-hued tapestries draped from the bedroom walls, depicting various 'fairy life' scenes, such as a herd of unicorns in a forest clearing, or fairies dancing in a circle on a green hilltop, with a full moon shining above. The canopy bed in the center was massive, and even looking at the overstuffed feather mattress made her sigh. Above it hung a canopy of rich green silk.
Next, Pikwel grudgingly allowed Ashe a brief but most welcome stop in a private commode - it had actual running water! Ashe, when she was Aesh and was attending Edefia University, had seen an exhibit in a museum about 'The Future of Plumbing' - she had been really bored one weekend, obviously - but never dreamed she'd try one. After days on the winter trail of squatting behind bushes, she was so appreciative.
Pikwel hadn't let her linger, but with drill sergeant efficiency, ordered her to strip, gave her a semi-transparent white robe and slippers to wear, and marched her through the Celemiril hallways to the manor's inner garden.
Ashe now stood before a steamy hot pool. A massive one. She was stunned.
“What do I do, um, now?”
"You get in, silly," Pikwel giggled and held up her hand. "It's called a bath. Now gimme."
The little gnome clearly expected her to hand over her ‘barely there’ robe. She would have been mortified as Aesh to be naked in public. Being Ashe made it easier in a backwards way - she gritted her teeth, stepped out of her slippers, and handed Pikwel her robe. All the while thinking:
'Not my body, not my body…'
She jumped in with a splash, making sure some water landed on Pikwel, who squealed with laughter.
The hot spring water stung at first, but her body adjusted quickly, and once it did…
'heaven'
Days of confusion on an almost mythic scale, constant worry, and yes, terror, from awakening in a cave, in a strange body, surrounded by strangers, melted away and were forgotten for a moment.
She floated on her back, gazing at the ceiling. Gold leaf stars against a deep blue background twinkled down, forming constellations she couldn't name. Looking more closely, she saw the roof was actually made up of many shutters. It confused her at first, until she figured it out-
'It opens!'
After floating for several more minutes without a thought in her head, Ashe managed to glance around at her 'bath', which looked less 'bath' and more 'indoor lake' to her. Lush vegetation, in summer green shades, filled a ballroom-sized enclosure. Swirls of steam rose from the water, forming dewy drops on the petals of exotic flowers sprinkled about here and there - hues of violets, deep blues, and rich velvet purples.
In the center of the pool she saw a small mini-island, and at the center of that stood a white marble statue, of a woman, wearing a toga draped over one breast, leaving the other naked. In her hand a cup. Upon her face, a smile of infinite mercy.
'The goddess Aana.'
As Aesh, she had never paid much attention to 'the gods'. They often seemed fickle to her, and some were downright cruel. So she placed her belief in alquimista studies, something she could understand, and touch, and trust.
But looking into the serene face of the goddess, Ashe toyed with the idea of praying to her, to beg her to change her body back.
'But that's stupid, since Isaura said Ymra did this to me.'
For fun, Ashe raised her leg the way she'd seen a female water dancer do at a water circus she'd seen as a child. She never tried it as Aesh, but as Ashe she wanted to see if she could. She raised her leg and pointed her toes to the ceiling.
'Heh! I can and, oh... wow…'
She couldn't help it, her leg - well, the leg that was hers for now - was smooth, toned, and glistened with wetness.
'Oh hells, that's sexy.'
As she stared at it longer, she started feeling other sensations, a tingling and hardening in her nipples.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you are getting turned on by your own body, Ashe."
"Ack!!!!"
Ashe spluttered and flailed about for a moment, even taking in water and coughing. She stood up in the waste deep water and turned to face Isaura. Who was also naked.
"Don't do that!" Ashe said, first glaring at, and then turning her eyes away from, the naked woman. Because – damn it! - she was stunning. Everything about the woman was alluring: teardrop breasts, curvy hips and heart-shaped butt, all misted in steam. For the first time since her awakening in the cavern, Ashe was glad she wasn't Aesh, because he would have been sporting the hardest erection ever.
"How long have you been there?" Ashe asked, covering her own breasts.
"Long enough. And I'd heard of the famed Ogdan prudishness, but I didn't expect it from you, especially with that foul mouth of yours."
"Fuck off, wanking shit sniffer," Ashe muttered under her breath, but did lower her hands to her side.
"Wanking what? Hahaha! Oh my goddess, you're wonderful! Try to remember, though, that I - as you - have Alarian hearing; I can hear every whispered mutter you make." Isaura took Ashe into her arms in a playful hug. "Now, let's finish our bath so we can have dinner. Piproos is preparing a feast."
"Finish? What's left? I feel cleaner than I have since...ever."
She did; the minerals in the water made her skin feel soft and supple in a way she'd never felt in her life.
"You haven't truly bathed until you've had a troop of Fefnoirs shampoo your hair and rub you down from head to toe with yang ling oil."
"You're ...serious?"
"Yes I am," Isaura said, laughing, and grabbing Ashe's hand. She pulled her toward a grotto where a dozen of the tiny Fefnoirs waited. They waved and cheered.
"You'd better hurry if you want to be done before Zinjo takes his bath. He'll be here soon, and naked, too. He draws quite a crowd of female Fefnoirs. It's a sight to see, actually."
"Why do they-"
Then it occurred to Ashe exactly why a troop of female Fefnoirs would want to see a naked giant.
"Oh gods! Let's hurry."
***
When Ashe returned to her bedroom, Pikwel was nowhere to be found.
"With the other Fefnoir girls, watching the Zinjo bathing show, I bet."
Ashe tried not picture it - the impish frolicsome gnome girls dancing around the naked giant as if he was the fertility god Odar. She wasn't sure if the image should offend her Ogdian morals, but it did make her giggle.
The clothing items the little Fefnoir had set out for her were easily found. Ashe held the gown up to her body.
"Seriously?"
She turned to look at her image in the full length mirror which stood near the vanity.
"Wait, mirror?" Ashe was almost certain it hadn't been in the room earlier. "Ugh! Curse Isaura and her nutsack wiping mirrors!"
"Still... with no one here but me…"
Ashe looked around to make sure there weren't any gnomes hidden about. Satisfied, she stepped before the mirror, and let her robe fall to the floor.
Ashe stood before it, looking at the young elf girl who stared back, first turning this way, then that.
Then she grew somber, and stared at her image.
"I've got to accept this, for now," she reasoned with herself. She wagged a finger at her image. "I don't see any way I'll be changed back soon, so suck it up! I'm part of a team, sort of, and I'm pretty sure Isaura and Zinjo share the same goal, to stop Breviar and those aiding him from unleashing hell on the Seven Kingdoms."
"So, I can't be all mixed up over who I am if I hope to help," Ashe said to the mirrored image, who mouthed the exact same words. "I'm going to stand here until you and I aren't strangers."
She stood that way for many long, silent minutes.
Until finally, softly, "This is me?"
Tentatively, she made a funny face, blowing her cheeks up like balloons. Then more, owl eyes, fish lips, sticking her tongue out. She giggled, spluttered, laughed.
Ashe stepped back a step; her hair had dried, and she ran her fingers through her silky black strands.
"So soft."
Her fingers traveled down from her hair, across her cheeks down the curve of her neck and then stopping on her right breast. Her fingertip circled her areola and nipple. Her eyes widened in wonder as goosebumps appeared and her nipple hardened. Her lips parted slightly and a soft "oh" escaped her lips.
Suddenly, she was no longer afraid, but curious; her fingers wanted to travel further, explore lower. She felt herself growing wet and tingly. And she knew exactly what was tingling too...
"my ... clit…"
...for anatomy had been one Aesh's best subjects at Edefia.
She sighed, in frustration this time, for she knew she needed to dress and hurry to dinner. She eyed the gown and heels again that Pikwel had left for her.
"I can do this."
Ashe started to dress but paused, looking at her image once more.
"This is me."
***
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing, because I do."
Ashe scooted up to the dark oaken dining table in the seat opposite Isaura. Chandeliers filled with unlit candles hung overhead, and a massive centerpiece of exotic flowers from the inner garden had been placed in the table's center.
"You've found me out!" Isaura said, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Er, which thing is it am I doing exactly?"
"You're not-so-subtle encouragements to 'explore' this, er, my ...new body."
"And how am I implementing this evil plan of mine?"
"Hmm, where to begin... the naked bath with sensuous oil massage…"
'Which,' Ashe admitted to herself, 'was heavenly.'
She'd wondered at the intense sensations that overloaded her mind and body. What accentuated it? Her new physique? Or had she just never taken the time to indulge her body as Aesh?
"...the full-length mirror you had Pikwel wheel in to my room…"
Ashe blushed in the remembering.
"...or maybe this little ‘see through’ number?"
She motioned to her spring green diaphanous gown. The golden rope wraps she wore over the gown for support only seemed to accentuate her breasts.
Isaura cast a critical eye over the results of her ploy. Though she wished Ashe had traditional Alarian waist length hair…
'...because she would look absolutely stunning…'
...in little more than three weeks hers had grown from rough cut to cute page boy bob. When added to the rich radiant sheen her midnight hair had from the exotic oils and berries the Fefnoirs washed it with, and the circlet of small purple flowers Pikwel weaved and placed on top, the effect was breathtaking. Ashe looked so much like Shea it made her heart ache.
"Everything you mentioned is within a completely normal evening routine for 'high elves', as you would say, so no hidden agenda there…"
'...except for the full-length mirror,' Isaura added mentally. She couldn't help but smile at Ashe's flushed complexion when the girl mentioned it.
'Mission accomplished. I told Pikwel to have the largest mirror in the manor moved into your room...'
"...but suppose I did have an agenda? Would it be so bad for you to explore a different culture, gender, or species for that matter? I thought Aesh the Alquimista was a scholar who loved knowledge in all forms."
"When you put it like that, you make me seem narrowminded-"
"-if the shoe fits…"
"-oh, thanks for reminding me - that's another thing! You had Pikwel set these out for me!" Ashe held up her small foot, upon which was a spring green sandal with a one inch heel, and matching wraparound ribbon that traveled up her leg. "High heels! Explain that?!"
"Again, traditional Alarian footwear for formal dining," Isaura thought it best not to correct the girl that one inch heels were called 'kitten heels' and not high at all.
"Fine. And no, I'm not against new experiences, but where does all this fit into helping to stop the fortuneteller's prophecy of death and doom?"
"No one is more aware of all that's in play and at risk than me," Isaura snapped. "Tomorrow we sail; we'll follow a pirate's ship to an unknown fort and face an enemy who-"
The sound of dozens of tiny voices singing wafted into the dining room; a procession of Fefnoirs, men in little tuxedos, women in gowns, marched. Leading the parade were Piproos and Peppenet: she was holding several wine glasses and he was carrying a dusty green bottle. Behind then followed the rest of the staff, and some carried platters of food. On one, steamed lemon grass mussels; a second, poached oysters with mushrooms and garlic; a third, deep fried potato wedges, seasoned with rosemary and onions; and a fourth, spring greens marinated in vinegar.
Others toted plates, cutlery, silver candelabras and candles.
"The plague has slowed the flow of food into Glesea," Isaura whispered, leaning over toward Ashe. "The Fefnoirs have been scrounging together this meal since our arrival. You will smile and you will enjoy it!"
"Yes, mommy," Ashe answered in an attempt to be funny.
And instantly knew she'd screwed up by the look of deep anguish that spread over Isaura's face.
"I'm so sorry! I was only trying to make a joke," Ashe blurted out, grabbing Isaura's hand, contrition written on her face. "A stupid idiotic joke. Please forgive me. I'm a fucking moron."
"Forgiven," Isaura said in between laughs - she couldn't help it, one second Ashe plunged her into crushing grief, the next she yanked her out of it - "but please try to keep that mouth under control! Try? The Fefnoirs aren't used to language that can make a sailor's ears bleed."
"Sailor's ears bleed? Seriously? That's an exaggeration," Ashe said.
"You speech is very salty, love. If not bleed, then at least make a sailor blush."
"Fine, I'll try not to hurt their dainty ears, but I doubt very seriously I'd make a sailor blush. And... my etiquette is pretty poor," Ashe whispered, "but isn't the dinner table set before the guests arrive?"
"You obviously have never been to a Fefnoir feast, since-"
Ashe never heard the rest of that sentence, because a noisy commotion erupted at the opposite dining room door: Zinjo had arrived, dressed in a black dinner jacket, a red tartan kilt, supple black leather knee high boots. A red sash draped across his massive chest, with a badge near his heart - an eight pointed star surrounding the Tree of Life.
Behind him trailed two dozen Fefnoir girls, swooning and sighing.
"Am I too late?" he asked, pulling up a massive seat clearly designed for his body and sitting next to Ashe.
"Just in time," Isaura answered, "for Piproos and Peppenet are soon to begin the toast. But first, I rather expect some singing. What Fefnoir meal would be complete without singing?"
On cue, the little people began singing, though Ashe couldn't make heads or tails of it:
Listen closely to the sound!
Who is this I hear?
Deep down in the ground?
Hacking and cracking the rocks and the stones?
Then, in a flurry of bewildering movement, the Fefnoirs tossed - juggled might have been a better word for it - plates, knives, forks, spoons, linen napkins, and even the candelabras onto the table. Ashe listened for cracking ceramic sounds, but none came.
Is it the squirrel scampering so?
Collecting acorns to and fro?
No! It’s not the squirrel!
Then…Who is this I hear?
Deep down in the ground?
Several of the Fefnoirs produced walking stilts, Ashe didn't see where from, and dancing and pirouetting about the table top, lit the chandelier candles as they spun.
Hacking and cracking the rocks and the stones?
Is it the giant so big and bold?
Stomping around in the winter cold.
NO! It’s not our Zinjo so big and bold!
Suddenly all movement and sound ceased. Ashe blinked, blinked again, and managed to resist the urge to rub her eyes - each knife, fork and spoon, every candle, platter and napkin -perfectly placed.
"Wow!"
"Wow indeed!"
"A toast!" Piproos and Peppenet shouted together, raising their wine glasses in the air.
Ashe noticed then, a wine glass with sparkling white wine had been placed before her. When she also noticed she was the only one in the dining hall to yet raise a glass, she snatched it and held it high.
Peppenet spoke first, "There are good ships, and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the sea..."
"...But the best ships are friendships," Piproos, finished, "and may they always be."
Everyone took a healthy swig, so Ashe did too. Zinjo cleared his throat with a rumble.
"Ve drink! to having only as much sorrows in life as drops left in glasses!" He drained his glass with one gulp. Everyone else was quick to do that, too, once they understood the toast.
"Very traditional Vloi toast," Isaura whispered to Ashe, before clinking her glass with a spoon. She raised her glass now.
"Wherever you go, and whatever you do, may the grace of the Alarians be there with you."
Ashe felt energy flow from Isaura throughout the room, and everyone gave a collective sigh of contentment, before taking another sip from their glasses. Somehow it had been refilled when Ashe wasn't looking. Ashe understood on a deeper level Isaura had just given a blessing to her beloved servants rather than a toast.
It was then that she saw all eyes were on her. Isaura leaned over again to whisper, "Your turn. It is good manners for a guest at a Fefnoir feast to offer a toast to her hosts. They enjoy light, short, funny but well-wishing ones."
'Well then, no pressure there.'
She held her glass high again and directed it at Piproos and Peppenet.
"May misfortune follow you the rest of your life..." Ashe said in as low a voice as she could muster in her new body. She paused dramatically, and some tiny Fefnoirs even gasped, before she added, "and... never... catch... up."
The Fefnoirs cheered, laughed and swigged another drink. Zinjo roared and guzzled several.
"Well done, you," Isaura said, still chuckling as she sat.
"Thanks, though a heads up about the toast would have been nice."
"I suppose, but as I'm learning every moment I spend with you, you are more than capable of holding your own, love. I'm starting to have faith in you, and your role in this."
Having no idea what the sorceress meant by that, Ashe shrugged and dove into the wondrously delicious food that sat before her, only stopping to breathe now and then.
***
"Sorry to say had no luck with ship. None remain, not even leaky dingy."
The most amazing seafood meal Ashe had ever eaten had been cleared, the praline and cinnamon ice cream devoured, and now Isaura, Ashe and Zinjo sat alone at the dining table. Having completed the dinner service, the Fefnoirs were now eating their dinner in their own dining hall. The Little People's singing drifted down the hallway still.
"What does that mean?" Ashe asked.
"Our plan was to follow the pirate ship with the compass to its final port, and there find who is unleashing these plagues, and stop them, permanently."
Ashe noticed Isaura's expression had turned hard, predatory.
"But without a ship, how will we follow them?"
"Iz Plan B," Zinjo said, tossing back the last of his wine. "Which, if witch woman remembers, did not work so well last time."
"I forgot one tiny detail!" Isaura said to Ashe. "He blows everything out of proportion!"
"A rudder iz not tiny detail! Anyway, I had materials delivered to a Kaits Cove, iz close to where they dock."
"Okay, so let's suppose you conjure a ship out of thin air-"
Isaura snickered.
"What?"
"Nothing, you'll see tomorrow. Sorry, go on."
"...and you follow them, and stop somehow the people who are holding the Seven Kingdoms hostage with diseases. Suppose you do all that. Do you think once you do, Ymra will be appeased, or happy or whatever ...and change me back?"
"I believe it's a real possibility," Isaura answered truthfully. "And the operative word here is 'we', for you've a role to play too. A huge one, I'm betting."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because Ailana Crow came to you; the fortune was yours."
"You keep referring to that like you were there," Ashe crossed her arms. "How do you know this?"
"Because I have looked into your memories. I watched the reading that way."
"What else do you know?" Ashe asked, her voice rising in alarm. "The missing weeks I can't remember, have you seen those? Do you know what happened to me?"
"Calm down, love." Isaura said, in a soothing tone. "I have seen some. I know what happened to you."
"As do I, leetle one," Zinjo said, his voice soft. He took her tiny hand into his huge paw. "Trust Zinjo. You are not wanting those memories."
"But... they're mine," Ashe whispered. "My memories."
"Yes, they are," Isaura answered, "but to possess them once more would kill you."
This confused the girl even more, for the way the sorceress spoke of them made it sound like she somehow had them.
'But how is that possible?'
Before she could think on it further, the sorceress distracted her, for from thin air - that's how it looked to Ashe - Isaura produced a tarot card deck, and began laying a spread on the table, naming them as she did.
"The Fool, Crow of Avarice, the Hierophant reversed, Black Magus, Devil of Corruption, the Wretched Suicide, the Goddess of Cauldrons, the Reborn One, The Yoke of Despair, the Queen of Wands, Temperance, Ace of Flames, Queen of Keys, and the Apple Tree of Healing."
"These are..." Ashe leaned over, her hand going to her mouth, "the exact cards Ailana Crow laid down!"
Isaura nodded. "You said they were gibberish when she laid them. Do they mean more now?"
Ashe's hand slowly traveled over the cards, stopping first at the Black Magus. "This, I thought, was a rogue alquimista, Breviar."
"Yes, also known as The Blood Burn Archanist. We'll discuss him in a few minutes. What of the other cards?"
"Devil of Corruption. Are these the plagues…?"
"...Yes, I agree. What else?"
"When the soothsayer laid the cards, I thought this one," her hand hovered over the Fool, "was me. But now I see it maybe wasn't."
"Right. In the first position, the Fool means the start of a journey or troubles or adventure." Isaura's voice gentled, "Which card does represent you, love?"
Ashe's hand quivered as she picked the Reborn One. "This one." After Isaura nodded, she placed it back in its place on the tarot spread and pointed to the next card.
"The Yoke of Despair. I have no idea what this card means, either when Ailana laid it, or now."
"We do," Isaura said softly. "In most readings the card may represent a seemingly hopeless burden one is bearing. However, as with the other cards in your reading, it is quite literal. And has already happened. Worry not of it. What of the others cards?"
"What has already..." Ashe quieted, and then gathered her thoughts. "No! What has happened? Tell me! It... something happened to me in those weeks that are a blank. You know!"
"We do, but..." Zinjo stopped to gather his own thoughts. Then he straightened in his chair. "Terrible things happen to leetle one in Imis before Isaura took you from there. And Zinjo means after you were transformed. A cruel enchanted device was placed on you; iz called... never mind its name, Zinjo won't speak it."
Zinjo spat upon the floor.
"It broke leetle one, ripped your beautiful mind apart. They torture you. Make you do things... I think it maybe kiill you."
The giant's face paled as he recalled memories he touched in the Cavern of Dearmad. He shook his head to clear it of the blackness.
"When Isaura put you back together in the Cavern, it was Zinjo who told witch woman to keep memories from you."
"Even if you hadn't told me to I wouldn't have-"
"-No!" Zinjo said, cutting Isaura off. "Have anger at Zinjo, leetle Ashe. Zinjo would not let you suffer again."
'Put me back together again? What the hells does that mean?' Once again, loads of information, coming way too fast.
"But who would do this to me," Ashe asked, lost again, "and... and why?"
"The 'who' is my sister, di'Sona Faeyra, First Advisor to Arch Duchess Myantha-"
"-th-the ruler of all the elves... I mean, the Alarian people? That Arch Duchess?" Ashe stammered.
Ashe, along with everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, knew Myantha's title of 'Arch Duchess' was a misnomer. As Alari was the most powerful of the Seven Kingdoms, Myantha was, by default, the most powerful ruler in the world. The Alarian clans, from the beginning of time, could never agree on designating any one clan to hold the title of Alarian 'king' or 'queen,' and so its rulers always took 'lesser titles.'
"Yes, my twisted little sister is the chief advisor to that Arch Duchess Myantha." Isaura paused, trying to decide how much more to tell Ashe. "And as to why, di'Sona thought you committed a horrific crime, and also suspected you were in league with those who are spreading these plagues. She used ...the device ...to make you talk."
"What... crime?" Ashe's stomach churned. Could she have done something horrible? How could she know? She remembered nothing.
"I won't... no... I can't say." Isaura's eyes teared. "di'Sona was wrong - you weren't responsible."
"Please!" Ashe's own eyes teared. She grabbed Isaura's hands. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. It was horrible, I can see it in your eyes-"
"I'm begging you, Ashe, begging! If you have an ounce of compassion in you, please, please, please! Ask no more of this."
Even as she nodded 'yes', a thought occurred to her, of what she might have done. Killing was anathema to her; all life was sacred. The thought of killing even the animals she ate for sustenance troubled her for many years.
'I couldn't have done that... killed Shea, could I? I would never kill anyone!'
"'Kay. Um, other cards," Ashe said, catching Isaura's grateful look before looking down at the tarot again.
"Queen of Wands - you. Temperance - Zinjo-"
-Temperance ...Zinjo?" Isaura asked, with an expression on her face that Ashe could only read as 'you must be insane!'
"I'm sure I'm wrong. Until recently, I thought tarot cards were complete bullshit."
"No, no, go on," Isaura said. "Let me hear your thinking."
"First, there are the two cups the angel is pouring," Ashe said, after picking the card up to look at it closely. "Measuring the right amount."
"To an alquimista, measuring, balancing, getting the perfect mixture is what we do. Zinjo, to me, is perfect mixture of strength and intelligence. And second," Ashe blushed a soft pink. "I feel like he is my guardian angel."
"Aaaw, leetle one make me blush too." The giant rose, then bowed, "I vill protect you always."
"Actually, you may be right," Isaura said, looking at the spread once more. "It is a most unusual reading. The cards tell us far more about who the players are, than what may happen. Crow of Avarice, the Hierophant reversed - this person is driven by greed, one who doesn't think rules apply to her. I say 'her' because I think this is the sorceress who placed the three wizards under geases. For some reason, I feel I should I know her."
"The man whom you have called Breviar, is the rogue now known as The Blood Burn Archanist," the sorceress continued. "Then we have cards representing you, me, now Zinjo too... I'm not sure what to make of the Queen of Keys. Do either of you know?"
"No, iz mystery to me," Zinjo said, shaking his head. "I once know Queen of Keese, but she die many centuries ago."
"Me neither, I-" Ashe paused as Zinjo's words sunk in. 'Hells! How old is he????' "-um... the 'King of Keys' is a title used by alquimistas to describe someone who is the best at solving puzzles..."
Ashe continued studying the tarot spread, looking at 'the Wretched Suicide’ card.
"But who is the..."
Ashe stopped her lips before they uttered 'the Wretched Suicide', because she had a sickening feeling it was Shea, and somehow Ashe was involved in her death.
So instead she moved her hand over the center card and said "...goddess?"
"She is at the center of this," Isaura replied. "Ymra, I believe. She is often pictured holding her cauldron of transformation. di'Sona invoked her name and then you were changed..."
Isaura leaned back in her chair and threw up her arms. "This is maddening!"
"I'll say!" Ashe agreed.
"No, I meant it differently than you. You think this is crazy-"
"-It is!"
"-but I think it's frustrating," Isaura continued. "We know much about the 'who', some about the 'what' but precious little the 'when' and 'how.' We don't even know if the goddess supports or opposes us."
"What do you mean?" Zinjo asked.
"What if Ashe was supposed to stop Blood Burn as Aesh, using alquimista skills. What if Ashe can't because of her change?"
"Do you... do you think that's true?" Ashe squeaked more than asked.
"I don't think so; my intuition tells me no, but how do we know for sure?" Isaura asked. "That's why I called it maddening."
"Where does this lead us then?" Zinjo asked with a yawn.
"It leads us to bed, old friend," Isaura said, smiling, "we've a big day tomorrow, so let's enjoy a good night’s sleep."
On cue, the Fefnoirs reappeared, Pikwel beside Ashe's chair, and a troop of giggling female Fefnoirs next to Zinjo.
"I'm to show you to your room, Mistress Ashe," Pikwel said, "and turn back your covers."
"And we're here to help you, Master Zinjo," the gaggle of Fefnoirs girls chimed in unison to the giant.
Ashe could read the desire in her young Fefnoirs’ eyes - she wanted to join her friends who helped Zinjo.
"He's a very big fellow," Ashe said to Pikwel. "Your friends could use an extra hand for sure. I'll be fine."
"Don't encourage them, leetle one!" the giant said, a note of desperation creeping into his tone. "Last time after I disrobe, they refused to give me sleepwear. They made me chase them around for an hour!"
Giggles erupted from the Fefnoirs.
"Yes, Pikwel, help the others with Zinjo, please. I need Mistress Ashera to come to my room for a bit. I have a favor to ask of her."
"Your wish is my command, Mistress," Pikwel said, and rushed to join her friends.
"I will not strip my clothes unless you promise to give me my sleepwear first, "Zinjo said.
"Then we'll tear them off you!" one Fefnoir shouted.
"Yes!" the rest agreed, and gathered round the giant, casting very predatory looks.
"We'd better hurry!" Isaura stood up and beckoned to Ashe. "This might start happening right here."
Ashe bounced up and hurriedly followed Isaura out of the dining room. She could have sworn she heard ripping sounds as they walked down the hallway to Isaura's bedroom.
***
Isaura asked Ashe to wait while she changed into a nightgown. While Isaura was in her walk-in closet, Ashe glanced around the bedroom.
It was much like her own, with rich tapestries on the wall and a canopy bed. Except on the hearth over the fireplace, a strange crystal lay on its side, with swirling colors of black and white. Ashe felt drawn to it - it seemed so familiar. She wanted to touch it, and started to take a step toward it.
"I'm back, sweetie."
When she turned to face the sorceress, well, Ashe wasn't sure what she expected, maybe something like the flannel gowns she used to see on her mother and sister.
"What is that?"
"What is what?"
"What you're wearing!"
What the sorceress wore, to Ashe, looked ethereal and airy; a semi-sheer white garment that fell from Isaura's shoulders to her ankles. It did very little to cover Isaura's long lean body.
"It's called a 'nightgown.'
"If you say so."
The sorceress had let her hair down too. Since Ashe had awakened in the cave four days ago...
'Only four days? That already seems so long ago...'
...she only ever seen Isaura's shimmery black hair wrapped in a bun. Now it flowed down her back to her waist. Standing before her, in the glow of nearby candles, with her dark eyes, soft red lips and exquisite pointed ears, Ashe decided that without question, Isaura was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She suddenly realized she was staring, and looked at the floor.
"I keep forgetting you are a very male-thinking Alarian teenage girl," Isaura laughed.
Ashe blushed hotly. "Um, you mentioned a favor?"
"Mmhm, follow me please."
Isaura led the girl to a vanity table and sat. She picked up a silver hairbrush and turned to look at Ashe. Once more, Ashe had trouble describing Isaura's expression; she'd not seen anything like it on the woman's face. It was a mixture of longing, crushing sadness and ...hope? She looked so very vulnerable.
"When Shea was... when we traveled together back before... I... each night we used to... it was our time together, our special ritual ...and you look so much like... I wondered if..."
Isaura's words failed her and tears pooled in her eyes. Before she could completely break down, Ashe took the brush from her hand.
"Of course I'll brush your hair."
Rather than starting at the top, Ashe held Isaura's hair in the middle with one hand, making a kind of ponytail out of it. Then with gentle strokes she started by brushing out the ends of Isaura's hair, working out any knots. Being careful not to pull, she began working her way toward Isaura's scalp, one segment at a time.
"You've done this before," Isaura sighed.
"Yes," Ashe smiled, remembering, as she brushed, "I used to do this for my little sister."
"Oh! How thoughtless of me," Isaura said. "She must be worried sick for you. We can have Piproos send word you are okay... er sort of okay. Alive."
"No, that's not necessary."
"The rest of your family then? Mother? Father?"
"No." Ashe's voice was barely a whisper.
Isaura was silent for several moments pondering that answer. Then it came to her. Aesh was from Ogda, which was ravaged by the Black Death about twelve years ago.
"Oh honey, not the Black Death? Not all of them?"
"Mama, Papa," Ashe said, "my older brothers, Aidan and Glyn, and my sister, Catelyn."
Isaura turned and hugged the girl tightly. She guessed Aesh would have been about eight when he lost everyone dear to him.
"I'm so sorry."
"It was a long time ago," Ashe said, "s'okay."
They were both quiet for a long while after that, each lost in their pain. Ashe pulled away and began brushing again, until...
"It's why I wanted to become an Alquimista Master," she said, "I wanted... to find cures for diseases, to preserve life, to make sure no one else suffered...
'...the way I did...' Isaura heard it, even though the girl didn't voice it. Yet unwittingly she had taken Shea's life.
'She must not know, ever' Isaura thought; she saw now it would devastate her.
"Switch," Isaura said, standing.
"What?"
"Your turn," Isaura said. "Let me brush your hair."
"You don't need to..."
"Move."
"No, really." Ashe touched the back of her head; her midnight black hair barely reached her neck. "I don't have any to brush!"
"Hush," Isaura said, sitting Ashe in her vanity seat. She leaned her face next to Ashe's, and in the vanity mirror, they looked for all the world like mother and daughter.
"Hush, love."
***
Chapter 5 - Bad memories
Once they left Celemiril Manor, and onto the streets of Glesea, the gloomy unnatural mist closed in again. They heard the wails and screeches of pain of those afflicted by the Wasting, and they had the vague feeling of being surrounded by ghosts.
Isaura felt the magic spell fueling the dreary fog. She could dispel it easily enough, but for now the cover it provided served their purpose as well. She would be using powerful magical energy this morning, and wanted no unwelcome eyes watching.
"You okay, Ashe?" Isaura asked, as their carriage wound its way through the market district. Isaura had parked her beloved gypsy wagon at the manor. Zinjo had left the manor before Ashe had awoken. Isaura said he'd left early to take care of some mysterious preparations.
"Yes, better than okay."
Ashe smiled; for the first time since she'd awoken in the cavern, she felt a tiny bit like her old self. She clutched the wooden box in her hands.
"Thanks again." Isaura surprised her before they left her house this morning. The sorceress instructed Piproos and Peppenet to gather a typical 'alquimista kit'; the sorceress had several alquimista tomes in her library which listed its contents. She knew Ashe's kit must have been taken from her in Imis, and thought the girl would feel more grounded with something familiar at her side.
Now the girl happily clutched a small leather box full of clippers, stoppers, syringes, mortar and pestle, and twenty or so pouches and vials full of solutions and powders.
"You can pay me back in information. While we track The Havock on the open sea, you and I are going to have a lot of time to discuss The Blood Burn Archanist and the evil he is capable of. I want you to be thinking of all you remember of him, because even the smallest detail may be helpful."
"You mean as we sail on the non-existent boat?" Ashe said with a grin. "I'll be ready."
"Cheeky girl," Isaura smiled back. "You'll see."
Ashe was as lost today as when they arrived in Glesea, for the fog made getting her bearings impossible. Peppenet drove the carriage with confidence through what seemed to Ashe to be solid gray wall, and when she smelled the sea, she figured they'd arrived. Somewhere.
"Ho, Mistress," Peppenet, called from atop the carriage, "Kaits Cove. Your supplies are in the crate by the beach."
"Let's go, Ashe," Isaura said, "show time."
Ashe looked about after she stepped out; to her left, she could see something solid through the fog - the outline of the city wall. To her right, through the wispy fog, she thought she might have seen the wooden docks in a nearby cove.
"Do not wait so long to come again, Mistress," Peppenet said, "we miss you."
"And I you," Isaura said. "Give my love to Piproos."
"An... an... Mistress Ashe? My apologies for mistaking you for your sister. Please come back soon. It's your house too, ya know."
On impulse, Ashe bounced up the carriage step and gave the small man a kiss on the cheek.
"Pass that on to Pikwel for me, Peppenet."
"Awwww... I surely will." Even in the mist, Ashe saw him smile and blush. "Heeah Sugarmane, heeah Dandy, let's go home."
"A kiss on his cheek? Interesting," Isaura said as they watched the fog swallow the moving carriage.
"How so?"
"A very feminine impulse, if you ask me," Isaura said. "Or did Aesh the Alquimista wander the streets of Edefia smooching the cheeks of all he met?"
"Hey, I could have! What's wrong with that?" Ashe said. "Not only people either. I used to kiss any dogs I ran into, too. They called me 'Aesh the Dog Smoocher.'"
"Aesh the Dog Smoocher? Hahahahaha!"
Aesh almost jumped out of her boots - she was wearing supple thigh high leather boots Pikwel brought her this morning, in addition to her leggings, tunic and robe - when a looming giant figure appeared out of the mist.
"Don't do that, Zinjo!" Isaura said, "you'll scare us to death!"
"Zinjo iz sincerely sorry," the giant said with an elaborate bow. The tone in his voice told Ashe he wasn't sorry at all.
“Pay back is a bitch, Zingo,” Ashe said, smiling wickedly.
“Ha! As if leetle one could ever scar Zinjo! Now, as you asked, I have gathered the wood, pitch and nails," Zinjo said. "Must hurry. The Havock arrived one hour ago and ransom is being delivered. Soon they will give antidote, raise anchor and leave."
Ashe's eyes followed where Zinjo pointed; on cue, the mists parted, revealing stacks and stacks of long wood planks, barrels full of wooden pegs, and an enormous metal bucket filled with gooey black stuff.
"Wait! We're going to build a boat?"
"Not we, me," Isaura said. "You get to watch and be amazed and awed. Oh, Zinjo will help out a tiny bit with the pitch."
"Best stand back, leetle one, when iz like this, she needs much room."
"Because of all the, um, building?" Ashe knew she sounded stupid, but she was still trying to work out what was happening.
"No, because her ego grows so big, it leaves little room for others," Zinjo said.
"Funny. First Ashe, now you. I suppose you two are simply incapable of appreciating my awesomeness."
"I need you to watch the dial and let me know if it moves." Isaura handed Ashe her compass. "Can you do that?"
"I'm fully certified to operate an andipose," Ashe answered, taking the magically altered compass from the sorceress, "so I'm pretty sure I can."
"An andipose whatsit?" Isaura said, shaking her head. "Never mind, I'll take that as a 'yes'. Let me know the moment the dial moves."
Isaura turned to face the stacks of planks, her wand in her right hand.
"Reka."
Planks flew forty feet up and hovered there.
"Ra'mrl"
Isaura concentrated, and the planks began assembling plank to plank. At first, Ashe didn't know what the planks were doing, but after more and more joined, she understood:
'They're forming into a hull!'
Isaura pointed her wand at the barrels.
"Reka.'
Streams of pegs swirled into the air to hover.
"Na'auc."
Down they flew, pounding into the individual planks, fastening them together.
Planks and pegs joined at a dizzying pace; Ashe thought she saw the keel forming on the bottom of the hull, guessed the tall vertical pole was the mast, but soon she lost track, the flurry of movement was simply too fast.
Isaura paused briefly and nodded at Zinjo, who sucked in a long, long breath, and blew on the metal bucket that held the pitch. Ashe had to step away, because the air blasting from his lips against the metal was hair-singingly hot. The metal soon glowed red.
'Clearly, I have much to learn about Zinjo, too,' Ashe thought in wonder.
When the pitch started to bubble, Isaura pointed her wand at it:
"Reka"
A thin stream of black goo rose, controlled by the sorceress' wrist movements.
"A'oa"
The stream sprayed downward, spreading out into the fore, aft and center of the hull.
'Shit, she's sealing it!'
Isaura returned to the remaining planks and pegs that floated in the air once the pitch was applied, waving her wand, and they began assembling again, into a cabin, then deck above, and finally railings.
After several more minutes, Ashe's mouth simply fell open, in awe and amazement. For floating forty feet above the ground was a one hundred foot long sailing ship.
"Rfail"
With a flick of her wrist, the ship began spinning slowly. Ashe saw that Zinjo was looking closely at the hull, examining each plank.
"Finished?" Isaura asked.
"I think... iz good."
"Iz good?" Isaura said with a laugh, pointing her wand at the ship again. "Iz very good."
"Ruwas"
The ship lowered slowly into the water to float just offshore.
"Well?" she looked at Ashe with a smug smile.
"Iz fucking amazing!" Ashe whispered.
***
Even with Isaura's 'instant ship', there was plenty of work needed to get underway: rigging the sail, fixing the helm, attaching the anchor, and unpacking supplies. Yet that came together quickly too.
'It never hurts to have a sorceress and giant about.' Ashe mused, as she sat at the bow watching Zinjo test the rigging.
After Isaura had finished, she had ask the sorceress why, if she could create a huge boat from magic, couldn't she change her body back. Isaura explained that for all the size and wonder of it, there were only two components to the ship, wood, and pitch.
She then asked Ashe. “How many components were there to the body?” As Ashe began figuring out the dizzying number involved with the circulation system alone, she had her answer - the components, the variables involved with a body were infinitely more complex than their magic ship. It really was going to take a god or goddess to change her back.
Ashe glanced down at the compass in her hand again, and saw its needle bouncing off the degree it had been fixed on.
"It's moving," Ashe shouted, and stood.
"Point to where the needle is pointing," Zinjo shouted back, tying off the last of the ropes.
"It's moving ...moving... there!" Ashe pointed with her hand to the mouth of the cove.
"The Havock has put to sea," Zinjo said as he joined Isaura at stern, taking the helm in his hands.
'How?' wondered Ashe. 'There is no wind, and this fog sits here heavy and dank.'
"Well then, we should too," Isaura said, pointing her wand. "Here goes nothing."
"Bra'll"
With a -pop- the sail grew taut, and the ship scraped off the shallow sand and into deeper water. Zinjo spun the helm first one way, then another.
"She's responsive; you've done well, witch woman."
"Well, bother," Isaura said; Zinjo's words reminded her of something. "I've forgotten one thing."
"Iz most complete," the giant said, frowning. "What could you be forgetting?"
"Hopefully nothing important," Ashe added, joining them.
"It's the most important thing of all," Isaura said. "A name. Give her one, love."
"A name? Why me?"
"Because this is our ship, it belongs to the three of us, and this will be your contribution."
Ashe thought about that, and nodded her agreement. She had never known a ship to be unnamed. Maybe it was bad luck not to have one.
She kicked around several different names, such as 'Gypsea', in honor of Isaura's gypsy wagon, or something funny like 'Thar She Floats'. But finally, she thought the name should be about their journey. What they were doing.
'And what are we doing? Trying to change me back to Aesh?'
She longed for that, but that was not what this journey was about. Ashe, more than anyone, knew what was at risk. For it was she who uncovered the professor's notes in what now seemed years ago.
'This is not about me.'
People suffered terribly across the Seven Kingdoms from the Wasting plague, reminding her of the horrors of that other plague, which took from her all she loved. And the plague was the least of it. If Breviar, or Burn Blood, - that sick name for him seemed all too appropriate - was to produce his serum and release it, the world would feel death such as it had never seen.
Their entire focus must be to stop this tragedy, using all the knowledge and power Isaura and Zinjo possessed. Yet some voice deep within told her that knowledge and power alone could not do this; against such evil, they would need mercy and compassion if they hoped to prevail.
'Hmm, knowledge ... compassion ...hope ...that sounds like ...the goddess Aana.'
"How about... 'The Hope of Aana'?"
Isaura looked first at Zinjo with wide-eyed surprise, and then back to Ashe. She ran to the shorter girl and hugged her fiercely, tears forming in her eyes.
"For all I've done today, your idea surpasses it, I think. The goddess must be our star above to guide us,
if we hope to succeed."
"The Hope of Aana, she is!"
***
"Thank the gods for Zinjo!"
The cabin Isaura had conjured below deck was little more than four walls and a ceiling; the 'little more' being two rough bunk beds and scratchy wool blankets for warmth and padding. Sure, she missed the soft downy bed she'd slept in at Celemiril, but at this moment, as the The Hope of Aana tossed from wave to wave, she was so glad the giant had rigged a belt into her bunk to stop prevent her from bouncing off the walls.
Isaura was in a deep sleep in the bunk above her - the magical shipbuilding had taken its toll - and Zinjo had the helm, guiding the ship through the storm…
"Oh hahahahahaha! I am heeeeere! Come and get meeeeee!!!!"
...which he absolutely loved. She heard him now, daring the lightning to strike him.
And the storm obliged, sending a lightning bolt crackling nearby, followed by a thunder roar.
"Serene Sea? Ha! What fart dog named it that? And why couldn't we have a calm beautiful moonlit night with the Small Anvil constellation twinkling overhead and the wondrous Rana Borealis shimmering on the western horizon?" Ashe moaned.
Those wishes were dashed when The Hope of Aana cleared the unnatural fog, and encountered this storm. Which Isaura said was also magically generated. She believed wizards or weather mages on The Havock had cast it to discourage any pursuit. Isaura could easily dispel it, but not without tipping their prey off that they were being followed.
"How the fuck can Isaura sleep through this?!" Ashe wondered aloud when yet another wave rolled her into the wall.
She heard a scooching noise and saw Isaura's pack had wiggled free from the ropes fastening it to the wall. Some of its contents were loose on the floor, including several strange looking crystals, a few pinkish ones, a pitch black one, and the gray pulsing crystal she'd seen the night before in Isaura's room.
"Well, crap!"
Ashe unbuckled the belt holding her in. She couldn't let Isaura's stuff scatter everywhere; who knew what a sorceress kept hidden away, maybe even another boat! Also, her hands itched to touch that crystal ever since she'd seen it.
She hopped onto the cabin floor, swayed as another wave rolled the ship, dropped to her hands, and crawled over to the stones. Ashe wrapped her hands around the gray one.
'Something's wrong!' Isaura bolted upright in her bunk, knocking her head against the ceiling. "Ow."
She tried to shake the drowsiness from her head, taking a quick inventory - she felt no magic other than her own, so not under attack. The ship felt like it was still in one piece. She glanced around the dark cabin, and saw…
"No! Ashe! Drop that!"
The sorceress unbuckled herself from the bed and leaped down, ran to the girl, and yanked the Cabrcon crystal - which no longer pulsed black and white but now was its original neutral pink - from her hands. Ashe's memory of her meeting with Shea had been restored.
"I killed her."
"You didn't mean to..." Isaura answered, not liking what she saw in Ashe's eyes. "You didn't want to."
"Your daughter." Ashe focused on Isaura. "You must hate me!"
"No, no... please, sweetie, come back over to your bed and let's talk about this."
"I became an alquimista to save lives," Ashe whispered, looking at her hands in horror. "Instead I'm a murderer!"
She sprang up and scrambled up the ladder, knocked open the latch and ran on deck.
"Wait, Ashe!" Isaura shouted, and followed as fast as she could.
When she climbed on deck, she saw Zinjo standing at the railing and no sign of Ashe.
"Take the helm, and circle," the giant said, scanning the choppy sea.
"What? Why? And where is Ashe?"
"Overboard," the giant answered, as he jumped over the rail.
***
Ashe's story will conclude in Memory and Memories - Part 3
Memory and Memories - Part 3
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Character Age:
Permission:
Memory and Memories - Part 3
by Armond
***
"I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do!"
"Talk to her. Iz only way."
"But what shall I say to her? To get through? She won't talk!"
They turned and looked at her; Ashe was tied to the base of the mast, her head slumped over. She'd tried to jump overboard twice since Zinjo fished her from the sea.
"Talk to her about Shea."
"Why? What good will come of that?"
"For once... for once! Take my advice, and do it
Isaura started to say something, and then stopped. Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. She walked from the stern to the mast, where the girl was bound.
The storm had passed. A lot of magical energy was required to keep one like that going; Isaura could only imagine how exhausted the wizard or wizards on The Havock must be. She supposed they must feel no one followed them now.
After several hours of travelling south, The Havock turned and now sailed due east. Only two kingdoms lay in the direction, the Keoba Dynasty, and their home country, Alari. Isaura had a sick feeling in her stomach about which one they were bound for.
"Are you thirsty?" Isaura asked.
Ashe didn't answer. Isaura watched her face. She'd seen the girl dulled senseless by the Torc, even seen her emptied of all memories. Her expression wasn't like either of those now: full of hurt, anguish, guilt and very much alive.
"My Sheala was such a happy baby. She cried so little, I thought there might be something wrong with her."
Isaura saw Ashe's head raise ever so slightly; she had her attention.
"Shea never knew her father. I'm not sure who he is myself. I celebrated particularly hard one Beltane, and came away pregnant. So it was just the two of us. I dragged her around the world so much that my poor little girl never had many friends. We became each other's best friend. I miss her. Gods and goddesses, my soul hurts for her."
"I'm so sorry," Ashe whispered.
"She and I had a terrible falling out three years ago. I had so hoped we'd reconcile, that I could tell her how much I loved her. You killed her. Ended my Shea's life. Now I'll never have that chance."
"I know! Gods damn it, I know, and you keep stopping me from-"
"-from what, jumping in the sea again? Goddess, what a coward you are."
"What would you have me do!!??" Ashe shouted.
"Accept it! Own it! You didn't mean to, you didn't want to, and tried your hardest not to, but you did it."
"How do I 'own it'?! What does that even fucking mean?"
"It means," Isaura grabbed Ashe's face, “do your duty! Zinjo and I need you."
"Not if it means killing again. I can't! Lay a geas on me to stop me. I'd even wear the Torc thingy again if it stopped me from-"
"-if you ever say something that idiotic again I will slap you silly," Isaura growled. "Your mind is so incredible, and so beautiful! I'm beginning to see how wonderful it is. I almost destroyed it in the Cavern out of revenge. I have to own that."
"And I have to own this? That I did something that cuts against everything I believe?" Ashe asked. "Because that's really fucked up."
"Yes, it is. Fucked up. What of it?”
“WHAT OF IT??? What do you mean, what of it?” Ashe screamed.
“Boo hoo. Poor me. Poor Ashe.” Isaura’s voice was cutting. “You say you are crushed by my daughter’s death at your hand. You say you believe all life is sacred.”
“I-it is!”
PROVE IT!”
“P-prove it?” Ashe’s voice quivered. “How?”
“By not letting her death be in vain. Shea gave her life trying fighting the very thing we now fight. Shall we quit when things get tough? And let loose a plague upon the world the likes of which has never been seen? You know well what suffering this will bring, for you have lost your family to just such a thing…”
“Yes… yes…” Ashe wept softly, “I know…”
“I’m going to untie you now. You can jump off the ship again,” Isaura said. “You can lay down in a ball on the deck and whimper. Or…”
“Or?”
“Finish the mission Aesh of Ogda started, and save lives. Save life. Do you need more time to wallow in self-pity, Ashe of Alaria? Or Are. We. Good?"
"We … we are… I… I'll think about it. But… I promise, I won't try to off myself… for now," Ashe said.
“Good,” Isaura said with relief. For she sensed she had finally gotten through to the stubborn girl whom she now found herself loving so dearly.
"And …could you kind of hurry with the knots? I'm freezing and starving and really, really have to pee."
***
The sun set low, only half above the horizon line, sending orange rays into the winter sky, and orange ripples across the water.
True to her word, Ashe tried no more suicide attempts that day, but now she stood at the very tip of the bow of The Hope of Aana.
"Should we be worried?" Isaura asked Zinjo; both were at the helm and both watched the girl closely.
Ashe turned to look at them, her black hair fluttering in the breeze, with a look of rapture on her face that only a sunset at sea can bring.
"I don't think leetle girl go for any more swims. Your tough love talk - which was not talk Zinjo had in mind - worked. But, is this not other problem, or mystery? Vhat to make of this?"
Isaura knew what the giant meant without asking him to explain; with a smile on her face and the sun setting behind her, the image made Isaura's heart ache.
"Why? Why did Ymra make her look so much like Shea? I have to catch myself from calling her ‘Sheala’ more and more. You're the only living being I know who has been in Ymra's presence. Why did she do this?"
"Ymra was laying waste to mountain range that day and vasn't in talkative mood," Zinjo answered. He held a telescope up to his eye, and then handed it to the sorceress. "Ho! Ve have other problems."
Looking through the telescope, she saw several tri-mast slopes that had appeared on the horizon; their flags were a white outline of an arm, holding a cutlass, against a black background.
"Pirates!" Isaura said. "Are they in league with Captain Angove, or are they-"
"-stealing from him?" Zinjo finished her sentence.
One of the ships fired a warning shot across The Havock's bow.
"That answered that question," Isaura said.
"What's going on?' Ashe said, joining the two at the helm.
"The Havock is under attack," Isaura said. She handed Ashe the telescope. "It seems some of Captain Angove's brethren wish to relieve him of his cargo."
"We can't let that happen!" Ashe said, handing the telescope back to Zinjo. "The ransom has to be delivered so we can follow it to those behind these plagues!"
"Agreed," Isaura said, pulling her wand from her robe. "They'll know we are here if I blast the pirates and-"
"Wait!" Zinjo said. "Something ...bubbles ...next to Havock."
"I just felt a magic burst, too. What are these fools up to?"
The sorceress raised her arms, saying:
"nerlaillirr"
The air in front of them shimmered, forming into a clear disk shape, magnifying the view so they could see what happened with The Havock and the other ships without the need of telescope.
A pool of bubbles formed next to The Havock, growing larger each moment. On The Havock's deck several robe figures pointed wands downward at the pool. Though she couldn't hear their words, Isaura knew what they were saying.
"A summoning! Goddess preserve us, these fools summon something from the depths!"
On cue, two humps broke the surface and began weaving between the ships. Next a massive flippered tail rose and smacked the ocean surface so hard, they heard it clearly on the The Hope of Aana half a league away.
Finally a snake-like head rose, its mouth gaping, showing double rows of sharp jagged teeth. The monster roared.
One of the pirate ships fired a cannonball at the creature, the ball striking near one of the creature's humps.
"Oh! Iz bad move, I think."
"Why?" Ashe whispered. Her eyes had widened when the creature's massive scaly head broke the water's surface.
"Because-"
The serpent roared again, louder, and sent its tail crashing down on the deck of the pirate ship that fired, splintering its railing and knocking down two of its masts.
-because that," Zinjo finished his sentence.
"Just what the wizards wanted," Isaura said.
A second ship fired on the creature, as did the third. Meanwhile, through Isaura's magnified lens, they saw the robed wizards of The Havock point their wands at their sails. Wizard wind snapped the sails taut and The Havock began to skim across the sea's surface.
"Summoning such creatures from the ocean depths is always foolish. It is impossible to control them, so the gamble is to point what you've summoned at your enemies, and run away. Sometimes it works, and sometimes the creature attacks the summoner instead."
The creature's tail smashed down upon the first pirate ship's deck again, this time splitting the vessel in two.
"Iz working this time," Zinjo said.
"I'd better deal with it now, or all those men will perish," Isaura said.
Already they saw through the magnified air lens the encounter had turned bloody and deadly; the serpent swooped down on the second ship with its maw open, snapping up sailors as it did and crushing them in its teeth.
"No! Still too close to Havock. They feel your magic when you do. Call the beast to us, that will draw less attention, yes? I vill take care of snake."
"They are far enough away now they shouldn't sense a summoning," Isaura said.
And indeed, The Havock had nearly disappeared from sight, even through Isaura's magical lens.
"But, are you sure you wish to do this?"
"Has been a while. Good to stretch muscles every so often, witch woman."
With that, Zinjo bounded to the railing and jumped over the side. Isaura hurried to the railing too; she pointed her wand at the creature.
"Suna du na, ssaedisa ull dha naaf"
The gigantic sea snake stopped its attack on the second pirate ship - its hull was already breached and taking on water - and turned toward The Hope of Aana. It roared and began swimming fast to them.
"Isaura! What is he doing?" Ashe said, looking at the spot where Zinjo dove under water. "There is no way he can fight that thing! You'd better do something, even if they feel it on The Havock."
The serpent slithered through the sea at an incredible pace, and within moments it neared The Hope of Aana.
"Um, Ashe, sweetie, there is one more thing I need to tell you about Zinjo. When I call him giant, I don't just mean 'big guy.' You see, he actually is an honest to gods-"
With a woosh, a towering figure burst through the water, in front of the serpent.
"-giant."
Though his legs were below the sea's surface, by Ashe's quick estimate, he stood close to 100 feet tall. He roared at the serpent, and with eyes blazing red, fists clenched, chest arm and abs bulging, the raging colossus looked nothing at all like the gentle friend she had grown to know over the past days. Only his silver beard, wet and blowing in the wind, seemed familiar.
The serpent hissed and lunged at him, and the giant dove to meet it, grabbing it by its throat. The serpent's tail slithered around the giant's torso, and they fell together under the water's surface in an enormous splash. For several anxious minutes, the sea roiled from the thrashing battle, sending waves crashing into The Hope of Aana, tossing the craft to and fro; Ashe gripped the rail tight, while Isaura hung on to the helm wheel.
The sea calmed. The Hope of Aana steadied.
A hand grasped a railing. A normal Zinjo-sized hand. Then another.Zinjo's head appeared, then he swung over and landed on the deck, all eight feet and four hundred pounds of him.
Ashe took one look at him, and scrambled down the hatch to the cabin.
"Iz too much for her," Zinjo looked stricken, as he stood shivering. "I scare her now too?"
"We've been together so many years, it's easy to forget how unusual and miraculous that is," the sorceress said. "But I think you underestimate her ability to-"
The cabin hatch slapped open and Ashe climbed up, carrying blankets. She handed them to the shivering giant.
"You must be freezing!"
Zinjo wrapped one blanket around his waist, and another around his shoulders. A goofy smile - one of relief - was on his face.
"I thought leetle Ashe vould be scared of me now."
She gave him his answer by hugging him.
"I was scared for you. You were underwater for so long. What happened?"
"I didn't want kill beast, not hiz fault nasty wizards call him," Zinjo said stroking her hair. "After we wrestled a bit, we reach agreement, I let go and he swim back to deeper waters."
"Good! I'm glad about that."
"I must go sleep now, leetle one," Zinjo yawned. "When I change like that need much rest."
"I can imagine," Ashe said, stepping back. "Er, that was a figure of speech, I can't actually imagine. That was amazing!"
Zinjo nodded, and stumbled to and down the cabin hatch, the fatigue hitting hard.
"He'll be out for a long while," Isaura said. She turned to look across the sea.
The Havock was long gone. She spoke nerlaillirrre, and the lens appeared before them again. The sea was filled with wreckage, the men clinging to it, and bodies. Shark fins had begun to poke above the surface. Of the three attack ships, only one - listing though it was - appeared intact.
"We'd better go see to the survivors." Isaura said.
"We'd better hurry," Ashe replied, watching the number of shark fins multiply.
"Bra'll"
The sails snapped taut and Isaura steered The Hope of Aana sped toward the helpless sailors.
As they approached, Isaura waved her wand and spoke words that caused the remaining ship to right itself. Ashe wasn't sure exactly what the sorceress had done but if she had to guess it was to add a huge air bubble to the pirate ship's hull. The men began swimming to it and climbing aboard.
They picked up several sailors who had drifted away from the main body; Ashe was tending to some of their injuries using first aid supplies the Fefnoirs had and by using antiseptic potions from her alquimista kit. Neither blood nor injuries troubled her, as her alquimista studies major had been in healing methods.
At the helm, Isaura interrogated the first mate of one of the ships, trying to learn basic information of who they were, and why they attacked The Havock. Was it pure coincidence the pirates attacked the ship carrying the largest known treasure, or did they have prior knowledge? She kept an eye on the sailors Ashe tended to make sure they gave her no trouble.
"So, this arm is broken," Ashe said to one, as she tied a sling off at his shoulder. Then she pulled another bottle from her kit and unstopped it. "Open wide."
"Wha' arre ye givin' me, lass?"
"Something for the pain." She poured a few drops in his mouth. "This will last a few hours. After that..."
She suddenly realized she had no idea what would happen after that.
"Aft that, ye'll be keepin' me nice 'n happy in cot, won't ye, poppet," the man answered, moving closer.
"I bet if ye gave me a peek at yer pretty elf titties, that would ease me pain," said a second as he limped closer to her, crowding her.
"Aye, that would help me pain too!" said the third, his hand reaching out.
Isaura started to raise her wand to intervene when suddenly the three men dropped to the deck, unconscious. Ashe glared at the sleeping men, and slipped a satchel back into her kit. She spun on her heels and marched to the helm.
Isaura could tell a tirade was coming, but the sorceress interrupted just as the girl opened her mouth.
"Sleeping dust?"
"Bergamot, anise, yling yling crystals, salt," Ashe waved her hand dismissively.
Ashe continued to amaze the sorceress! She must have concocted the powder on board using her new kit. Was it only days before that she was disoriented? Scared when the Caphilian soldiers came to their camp? Now she was confident and crafty.
Then Ashe unleashed:
"They entered a ship battle where many would be killed, a terrifying sea serpent rises up and smashes their ships, they swim for their lives while sharks circle, and many are severely injured..."
'uh, oh, here it comes,' Isaura thought.
"And after all that... all that..." She clasped her breasts with her hands. "All they can think about is seeing these? Are all men this stupid?"
Isaura tried so hard to bite her tongue, to not remind the girl, that, until recently, she fit into the 'men' category. But she couldn't remain silent, not with that set up.
"That's a rhetorical question, right?"
What erupted next from the young Alarian's mouth were strings of curses, the sorceress was sure the likes of which had never been heard before on earth or even in the darkest caverns of the hells of the underworld. Isaura wouldn't have repeated what she heard if she could, but even the milder phrases were memorable in their creativity, such as 'bunghole wafflers,' 'retarded asswad fish bait,' and Isaura's personal favorite, 'rectal whale bashers.'
"llsaana"
"W-why did you do that?" Ashe asked, stopping her fiery word tantrum when she realized the first mate was frozen in place, his mouth open.
"Observe. You would agree this man is a sailor, yes?"
Ashe nodded, wondering where this was going.
"Note the coloration of his cheeks. Even tanned and through his scruff, you can clearly see they have flushed red, in a blush."
Ashe only needed a moment to catch on.
"Fine, okay, you win. I made a sailor blush. But his ears aren't bleeding." Then Ashe noticed flakes of dried blood around the mate's left ear. "That blood was already there!"
Isaura laughed and hugged the girl.
"May we get these guys on to their ship now?" Ashe asked, casting another glare at the sleeping men. "They really pissed me off."
"You bet. I've gotten all the information I can from him. They were commissioned by the Keoba Dynasty to 'unofficially' steal back the ransom. Idiots. They risked unleashing the death plague on the kingdoms for coin?"
"What will we do with them?" Ashe asked, looking at the remaining pirate ship, now filled with survivors.
"We'll give them what supplies we can, and send them on their way. We need to be moving too. It is clear now our destination is Alari. But where? We can't let The Havock get too far ahead.”
Isaura thought for a few moments before she continued.
"Go below and fetch my scrying bowl, the pouch with water from the Falls, and also ... the atlas."
Ashe thought about that. She loved Isaura's atlas. You simply ask it a geography question, any question, and a dot appeared on the map. What would Isaura be looking for?
Ashe cleared her throat, "...to find the nearest island to send the pirates to?"
"Exactly," Isaura smiled her approval. It was such a pleasure to deal with an engaging mind.
Isaura unfroze the first mate, and then Ashe and the first mate gathered portions of hard tack, salted meats, water jugs and first aid supplies as they could spare onto the deck. She was afraid she might wake Zinjo as she dragged the supplies on deck, but he was snoring hard in the hammock he'd rigged.
Then things became interesting. Isaura made the first mate stand beside supplies and sleeping men. She pointed her wand at them.
"Reka"
She lifted and then guided the men and supplies to a gentle landing on the deck of the remaining pirate ship; the spot was clear because the men aboard to scrambled to move out of the way. The first mate flailed and moaned a bit in fright, but otherwise the airborne transfer worked well.”.
"Have you found one?" Isaura asked. Ashe had already opened the atlas and was scanning it.
"The Kisk Atoll lies only eight and a half leagues to the southwest," the girl said.
"How do you know about leagues?"
"Oh! We covered various distance measurements in my 'Weights and Measurements' class, my sophomore year at Edefia. I was really good at conversions."
'Of course you were,' mused Isaura.
"How did you query the atlas?"
"I asked for the location of the nearest island with fresh water and edible vegetation."
"Excellent!" Isaura said, as she reached over and affectionately ruffled the girl's hair. "Now, this will be a bit tricky, but I'm going to cast a spell which will push the pirate ship toward the atoll. I need you to position my wand in the precise direction."
"That will be tricky," Ashe said, biting her lower lip. "If we are even slightly off, they'll miss it and end up gods knows where."
"Hence the need for precision."
Ashe grumbled a few colorful phrases, took the tracking compass from the sorceress, and placed it on the atlas page which showed the Kisk Atoll. After orienting it, she stood, faced west, then pointed her arm to the southwest degree she thought was most accurate.
"It lies there."
"Muya ail dhed naisasdaiul" Isaura intoned, pointing first at the ship with her wand, then in the direction Ashe's arm pointed.
The pirate ship creaked and wobbled, slowly turned, then lurched forward in the direction Ashe still pointed. Shouts rose from the men on deck, though whether of thanks or curses was hard to tell.
"I'm worried," Ashe said, as the pirate craft moved further away. "What if I got it wrong?"
"What if we got it wrong you mean, since I cast the spell?" Isaura replied. "I'm worried too. But we can spare no more time. The stakes are too high to escort them."
"But what if they die?"
Isaura could see the girl internally wrestling with the ethics.
"If they die, they die," Isaura answered. "But consider - we diverted the serpent from killing them all. We righted their ship before the sharks devoured them. We've given them food and water and used our best guess to send them to an island where they will be safe. And if we don't stop the anti-life plague, then they, along with every other living creature, will die."
"When you put it like that..." Ashe's words trailed off as she chewed on the issue more. "This is one of those tradeoffs, isn't it?"
"Mmhm. We must own it."
"Well then, what's next?"
***
'Where are you now?'
'The Serene Sea.'
'How in hells ... never mind. You'd better have news, because you've yanked me out of an important meeting with the Arch Duchess, and she gets cranky when I leave her waiting.'
Skry speech always put her sister in a bad mood when she was on the receiving end - until the receiver set up her bowl, all she heard was an annoying buzzing in her ears.
'My apologies, Sister. I'll tell you about a life-killing plague that I think is being kept in Alari when it's more convenient for you.’
'Talk!'
Isaura summarized what they'd learned since she contacted her from Sapphire Falls. di'Sona was quiet as she digested it. Then finally:
'That solves the riddle of what we found in the Qyrc Wilds.'
‘Qyrc Wilds?’
Isaura dredged her mind to recall what her sister had said about it in her flat in Imis.
Only a month ago? It seems like years now ...She mentioned something about a bizarre experiment conducted by Blood Burn in the Qyrc Wilds. It was when he left there to travel to Caphila that they sent Shea... so what was the man doing up in the wilds?
'Does this have to do with The Blood Burn Archanist?' Isaura projected into her scrying bowl. 'What did you find?'
'What is this? ' di'Sona answered. 'The great and all-knowing Isaura Faeyra has no freaking idea? Oooooooo. Let me savor this moment.'
Isaura half raised her eyelids and glanced at Ashe. The girl was busy steering to where the tracking compass pointed, as Zinjo had yet to awaken. She heard their scry exchange.
'What's the matter, sister?' di'Sona scryed, 'cat got your tongue?'
"Try calling her a 'crap-headed nipple rag,'" Ashe offered. "That'll shut her up."
'Sister, you are a crap-headed nipple rag. Now tell me what you found.'
'Wait, I'm a what?' There was a long silence. 'What does that even mean?'
It was clear di'Sona struggled to interpret words she wasn't used to hearing combined.
'We found nothing.'
'Nothing? So, a dead end-'
'Sort of, the “dead” part of it especially. By nothing, I meant we found a dead zone. No living thing, in a one hundred mile radius around the place where the human ran his experiments.'
"Nooooooo!" Ashe gasped, with panic in her voice. "That means he's already used his reverse chrysopeia process to distill the anti-life serum!"
"Can it be neutralized?" Isaura asked.
"Possibly. That will take research and time. It can be contained; we...- alquimistas I mean - have developed lead containment boxes for compounds that accidentally turn harmful or viral."
'Who are you speaking to?' di'Sona scryed.
Isaura wanted to answer, 'the person whose mind you almost destroyed in your petty evilness. Who now is a key to averting this disaster.' But she knew now was not the time.
'My apprentice, Ashe. Listen closely, sister, we are still a day away from Alari's shores. Deploy our wizards to look for The Havock; she sails laden with ransom from the six other kingdoms under witch wind; your wizards can detect it. The ransom should lead to Blood Burn and she who assists him.'
"The Alquimista Academy in Imis will have alquimistas who can help and will have containment boxes too," Ashe whispered.
Isaura nodded. She knew the university well, and its library. It was only a two-hour ride from Imis.
'Also seek the aid of the alquimistas from their Imis academy, di'Sona. They will be useful and have boxes to safely house the death plague.'
'I detest alquimistas, but I suppose they could be of use, especially since this Blood Burn is one of their own. We must police them more closely if they are devising illnesses which can afflict Alari.'
Isaura was certain her sister meant something far stronger than police.
'Take no action until we arrive, I wish to-'
'My thanks, sister. I will report all you've said to the Arch Duchess, and will take matters from here. You may return to your travels-'
'-don't be a fool! Whoever is behind this is powerful and ruthless. They have already unleashed plagues on all the other kingdoms and but for Shea's sacrifice, would have infected Alari as well. Do not take action until-'
'I speak for the Alarian government and I order you to stay away. I will mobilize all appropriate forces and deal with this. Good day, sister.'
The skry contact abruptly stopped.
"Arrrrgh! She is such a conniving little-"
"-asshole. That's clear enough. Are you sure she isn't working with Blood Burn? From what you've said, I told her about my mission to find the rogue alquimista, and she said she didn't believe me. Yet she already knew of his experiments. Doesn't that seem odd that she wouldn't have connected with that? Maybe everything she did to me - caused my transformation, destroyed my mind with the Torc - was a way to shut me up."
Isaura looked at the girl as she considered her words. At first it concerned her that the girl spoke so clinically of the one who tortured her and destroyed her mind. But then she had to remind herself Ashe had no memory of that, and only knew such as she and Zinjo had told her.
"No, sweetie. If she wanted you out of the way, she would have simply killed you without a thought. She's loyal to Alari, I'm sure. She's also cruel enough to force your change just to be able to use the Torc on you."
"Perhaps so, but what if she thought of Blood Burn's serum as a weapon that would give Alari supremacy over the other kingdoms? If she thought that was in the best interest of Alari?"
Isaura hadn't considered that. "It is time you told me all you know about this Blood Burn and his plague."
"'Plague isn't the best description, unless we think of it as a plague against life. It's a serum that... hmmm. This will take some time to explain, for I'll have to give you a brief summary of the alquimista path first..."
When Isaura gave a 'continue' nod, the girl began. And even though they were alone on the sea, Ashe lowered her voice, in a way people did when they didn't want their voices to broadcast information or secrets.
"The alquimistas’ aim is to purify and perfect," Ashe said. "It is called chrysopeia, the transmutation of base metals into noble ones, like gold."
Isaura nodded. She knew all this; she had even spent a year studying the subject with the famed alquimista Aqynas of Grayscar decades ago. But she didn't want to interrupt Ashe to tell her so; she wanted to hear it in the girl's own words.
'No, scratch that, I love hearing the way she thinks.'
"For me, the true aim of chrysopeia is not the seeking of gold, nor even finding the immortality through the Elixir of Life..."
'Which you now have through your transformation,' Isaura mused, 'though you haven't yet realized.'
"...It's the creation of the purest panaceas, which would cure any disease. So many lives could be saved! Their pains eased..."
A warm smile crept over the sorceress' face as the girl continued her impassioned description of how she wished to serve others. Yes, Ashe's feisty colorful character was endearing, but this, this was where her soul fire was. Preserving life. Helping people.
'She is a true follower and priestess of Aana,' Isaura realized with a start, 'even though she is clueless to this fact as well.'
"Some alquimistas over the years began to grow frustrated with this path, for no matter how many times they applied the transmutation process, always there was imperfection at the end. Each time, smaller and smaller, but always there."
"Breviar - Blood Burn you call him - was one of these. Of course, he wasn't 'Blood Burn' then; he was boring Breviar of Guilon, one of our most highly respected professors at Edefia. Then, at one commencement assembly, he stopped midsentence in his address, looked at us oddly, and said 'we are all fools! Misguided fools'. He left that night; vanished. "
"It was I who discovered his hidden notes in his private library-"
"-What were you doing there?" Isaura interrupted.
"Snooping for tomes and manuscripts, of course," Ashe said, flashing what Isaura now recognized was her standard mischievous grin.
'Snooping for tomes? How many times have I been caught doing that?' Isaura thought. 'Aana, how could I not love this girl?'
"What I found caused an uproar among the alquimistas at the university. Breviar reached the conclusion that life itself was imperfect, was incapable of being - his words - 'purified', and needed to be cleansed.'"
"What is that kind of insane thinking even called?!" Isaura wondered aloud in horror. "Genocidal? Annihilationism?"
"I call it the corroded brain gibberings of a scrotum faced fuckwit," Ashe tilted her head with pixie cuteness, "but hey, that's just me being charitable."
"I like your description better," Isaura said, chuckling. "What else did you find in his notes?"
"It gets far worse," Ashe said, somber again. "He formulated a reverse chrysopeia process, that he theorized would produce what he called anti-alkahest, - anti life - a supremely potent deadly serum."
"Capable of destroying all life in a one hundred mile radius?"
"Yes. A single drop, according to his notes, if made airborne, would. His notes also showed he planned to make way more than a drop. It alarmed the alquimistas so much that we formed teams and fanned out across the Seven Kingdoms searching for him. Master Bexon and I eventually came to Millcrest in the Yaran States, where the soothsayer found us and-"
“-How long has it been doing that?" Isaura asked, when she noticed the needle on the tracking compass swaying back and forth.
"Off and on since I took the helm," Ashe said, looking at the compass. "But it's happening more often. What's it mean?"
"That The Havock is getting out of its range," Isaura frowned. "I could try to coax more witch wind, but I'm not sure how much more stress my makeshift boat will bear. Damn it, we can't lose them, especially if di'Sona is moving ahead without us!"
Isaura concentrated hard as she inventoried all her magical spells and knowledge trying to figure a way to increase their speed.
"Um, Isaura?"
"Not now, love, I'm thinking."
"Oh, sorry. But, uh, I have an idea."
Isaura gave the girl her full attention; she had come to value her opinion.
"What is it?"
"Well, you have a spell that made the boat materials, and those pirates, float in the air. And you have a spell that made their ship move. Couldn't you use both on The Hope of Aana? I mean, couldn't we fly? That surely must be faster."
"I don't think... wait... wait..." Isaura thought hard. "That could work."
"Could?" The hint of a mischievous grin played on her face. "It should be a piece of cake for the Queen of Wands."
"I sense a challenge," Isaura said, whipping out her wand. "Let's test your theory, Ashera, shall we?"
Ashe made an elaborate bow, and made an 'after you' gesture with her arm.
"Reka"
The sorceress made a circling motion with her wand, pointing at the ship. Then she pointed to a spot in the air above.
Ashe felt a lurching, and she ran to the rail to see what was happening. It was working! The choppy surface of the sea fell further away, until at about fifty feet above it, the rising of the ship stopped.
"Point the direction, love."
Ashe held the tracking compass up; though it swung to and fro, it steadied enough to give her the answer. She pointed with her arm.
"That way."
"Muya ail dhed naisasdaiul" Isaura said, pointing first at the ship with her wand, then in the direction Ashe's arm pointed.
The Hope of Aana moved in the direction Ashe pointed, picking up speed.
“We're flying! Holy mother of gods, we're flying through the sky!"
Ashe ran to Isaura without thinking and gave her a bear hug.
"You did it!"
"We did it, Ashera. We."
***
Ashe soon noticed their sail was a hindrance now, actually slowing the ship's forward movement. She scrambled to lower the canvass sail as Zinjo had taught her. She stowed it below, and while there, she grabbed the kettle. Next, she tossed in dried mint and grabbed two mugs from the supplies. She also managed to carry the two crude box stools Zinjo crafted from the supply crate. Casting a quick glance at Zinjo's hammock - still snoring away - she scrambled up the ladder to the deck. She sat on one stool, and Isaura sat upon the other. Out of the water, The Hope of Aana's helm served no purpose, and the ship glided through the air on the course Isaura set.
"Show me what you've learned," Isaura said. Shortly before they encountered the pirates, Isaura had begun teaching Ashe simple spells. With her keen mind, and Alarian magic coursing through her veins, Isaura knew the girl would be a natural.
"May I borrow your wand?"
"Oh, no! Little minnow must learn to swim first."
Ashe stuck her tongue out, and though Isaura knew well her history as Aesh the scholar, she looked nothing more than a petulant elven youth at that moment.
"Haed"
After Ashe spoke the word, she pointed an index finger of her free hand at the kettle. The metal glowed a soft red, forcing the girl to quickly place it on the deck.
"Ow!"
The glow dulled, and steam rose from its spout.
"Hey! Don't arch your eyebrows at me, damn it," Ashe huffed. "I did it, didn't I?"
"Obviously," Isaura answered. "But it's all about intent and control. Had I given you my wand, you would have blown up the kettle."
"Oh. So, next time, I should ...picture in my mind ...the level of heat I want?"
"Exactly. Like anything worth doing, it takes practice."
Ashe nodded; she was just fine with that. Practice, patience, studying - these were characteristics that had defined Aesh in his studies.
Then, her eyes widened as she considered all that Isaura had contended with in creating this boat.
"This is just a simple kettle. How in the world," Ashe's voice held awe now, and she waved her arm in a circle in the direction of the deck "did you do all this?"
"At last, you appreciate my brilliance," Isaura replied with a grin. "Just don't ask Zinjo what happened on my first one hundred attempts."
"Oh I definitely will," Ashe said, smiling back. She poured the mint tea and handed the sorceress her cup. "But still, to give each piece of the thousands used to build her, I'm just, well, floored, Isaura."
"Thanks. You know, even by doing all that, a magical construct such as The Hope of Aana still wouldn't succeed unless you provide it with an overarching intent as well. Hmm. That's not the best way to describe it. It's more like... like..."
"Heart?"
"Yes! You know then?"
Ashe shook her head, and then gazed into her cup
"I... I don't really. Oh, in my head I do, but... would you ...would you mind telling me the 'heart' you gave The Hope of Aana? I'd really appreciate it."
Isaura wasn't sure the girl realized how deeply personal her question was. But she didn't mind. In fact, if she pretended the past few years never happened, because moments like this with the girl were interchangeable with countless past times with Shea. For this instance, Shea was here, as she always used to be. The two together, discussing the mysteries of the universe.
"I love to travel, you know that, right? I crave to be on the open road, journeying to unknown lands. It is a core part of my soul. This I passed to The Hope of Aana when I constructed her. The heart I gave her was a yearning for the vast and endless sea."
"That's ...that's beautiful!' Ashe said, her eyes misting. "I get that."
They grew silent now, sipping their hot drinks, as The Hope of Aana sped through the air. The sun set and the moon and stars filled the sky around them. For once, the Serene Sea lived up to its name and was smooth as glass, reflecting every single twinkling star in the heavens. To Ashe, they now flew through heaven itself.
Her heart clenched from the sight - it was a singularly perfect moment in her life.
"Isaura, no matter what has happened, or what will... this... this... thank you!"
Isaura felt it too, and wrapped her arm around the young girl. When Ashe laid her head on Isaura's shoulder, something passed between them, a familial bonding. They each felt it, but neither said a word. Because, in moments like this, words fail.
Some minutes later, they heard Zinjo bellow as he awoke. Next there came the *thump, thump, thump* as he climbed the ladder. When his head poked through the latch, Ashe and Isaura could tell the giant was only half-awake.
"Zinjo, beware, I lifted The Hope-"
"-Shhh," Ashe put her index finger to her mouth.
"But he doesn't know that we're fl-"
"Shhh," Ashe said again with a mischievous smile.
Zinjo stumbled to the far side of the ship lowered his breeches, leaned over the railing to pee, and...
"Aiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!"
The giant fell back onto the deck and scrambled to the helm on hands and knees.
"Ve in air! Ve ...ve ...ve float!"
Ashe was rolling on the deck, roaring with laughter and clutching her sides. Isaura was bent over too, her eyes tearing from laughter.
"Leetle one thinks this funny?" The giant was indignant.
"Leetle one thinks this is gods damned hilarious," Ashe said, when she managed to stop laughing.
"Zinjo thinks leetle one is being mean."
"I think I'm giving well-deserved payback."
"Payback?" Zinjo was confused. "For which?"
"One," Ashe held a finger, "for when you jumped in the sea when a freakin sea monster was coming. I was worried sick for you."
"Awwwww! As leetle Ashe saw, no need for worry because-"
"- oh yes! Because you can magically become a hundred foot tall raging giant." Ashe held up a second finger. "Number two, you became a hundred foot tall raging giant and scared the living piss out of me! So yeah, payback."
"You must admit, she argues her points well," Isaura said, still smiling wide.
"Ho... ho ho..." It started with a low rumble but picked up speed. "It was ...ho ho ho ...funny ...ho ho ho ...starting to pee and looking down and 'aiiieeeee' ...HO HO HO HO HO HO."
His laughter was infectious, and soon Ashe and Isaura joined back in. Their merriment echoed off the sea as The Hope of Aana sailed through the stars and night.
Chapter 7.
Homecoming
"It's like a carpet of gold. Shimmering gold."
Looking down from The Hope of Aana, as she sailed above the land they'd reached, that was exactly what it looked like to Ashe. After sailing among the stars, she awakened to this sight at dawn.
"In Alarian," Isaura said, "they are called-"
"-Elf Trees!!!" Ashe squealed.
Every child heard stories of the wondrous Elf Trees, which were never barren, yet followed the seasons too. There was nothing like them in the human kingdoms. Yes, they had deciduous trees that somewhat resembled these, shedding leaves in the fall, of course, and budding new growth in the spring. And there were evergreens, which never shed leaves, but true to their name, remained one hue throughout the seasons.
But Elf Trees - as every child knew - were magical; their leaves turned solid gold in the autumn, but did not fall, remaining on their branches through winter. Only in the spring, when new growth blossomed, did they finally fall.
"Eemen trees, Ashe," Isaura corrected. "Have some pride, love, no self-respecting Alarian would ever call them something as base as Elf Trees."
"Hey, Isaura?"
"Yes, love?"
"Does your ass ever get jealous of the amount of shit that comes out of your mouth?"
"Does my ass ever get..." Isaura tried hard to stifle her laughter; she didn't want to encourage the girl. "Tell me the truth, Aesh the Impious, do you have these saying memorized or are you ad libbing them?"
Before Ashe could answer, a sound distracted her.
Singing.
As the wind rustled the golden Eemen leaves beneath The Hope of Aana, Ashe heard melodies and harmonies. Not voices, exactly, but tones and vibrations. Straining her new Alarian senses, she concentrated, focusing on where the sounds were coming from.
"Isaura," she whispered, the wonder clear in her voice, "the trees are singing!"
"Welcome to Thyli Alari, Ashera Faeyra."
The sorceress smiled; Thyli Alari was a wonder of the Seven Kingdoms, pulsing nature's magic. The immortal Alarians never took their blessed realm for granted, as their deep reverence ever remained. But as decade passed decade, the sense of marvel in an Alarian did dull; what a joy to hear the girl's first impressions!
Even if Ashe possessed her full memories of her visit as Aesh to Imis, it would not equal this. Imis, the fabulous capital of Thyli Alari, was to the world the archetype example of an 'elven city,' filled with dizzying spiraling Alarian architecture.
Yet this was all humans saw of their lands; none were permitted in the lush forests, misty mountains and fertile valleys, the true Alari.
"Do you know vhere ve go?" Zinjo asked. He steered the ship in the direction the tracking compass pointed.
"I'm afraid I do," the sorceress answered. "We are heading straight for Beurl'Aana."
"Beurl'Aana? That's the, um, birthplace of the elves ...I mean Alarians?" Ashe was proud she could remember these facts from her university history classes.
"Yes, it is. And it's also the home of my sister."
"The one who beseeched Ymra to change me so she could torture me and break my mind with..." Ashe struggled to remember what Isaura told her about her earlier trip Imis, "...the Torc?"
"No, that's my younger sister, di'Sona. Beurl'Aana is home to my older sister, Elasha. di'Sona is the nice one."
***
"Well, Kuvras? Speak! We should have received word by now!"
The wizard shuffled forward, resigned. A promotion to The Empress' High Wizard wasn't a promotion at all, unless one considered death a good thing. She set the previous High Wizard Palenor on fire. The one before that exploded. At least he had been able to make out a will and plan for it.
"You are correct, Empress Elasha. Captain Angrove arrived at the coast several hours ago and should arrive by dusk with the monies from the six kingdoms."
"Any troubles?" Elasha asked.
'Where to begin,' Kuvras wondered.
"The Empress should be alerted to several matters," he said. "First, The Havock was attacked by pirate ships - we suspect commissioned by the Keoba Dynasty-"
"-And were dealt with, yes?"
"Yes, the wizards accompanying Angrove and his crew summoned a sea monster, which destroyed the pirates and-"
"Idiots!" Elasha yelled. "The monster could have turned on The Havock and all we'd worked for would have been lost. Have these wizards brought before me when they arrive."Kuvras turned white; he knew several of them well.
"Keoba Dynasty you say?" When Kuvras gave a quick nod, Elasha grew pensive. "They shall receive a second harsher plague then. And the antidote shall cost triple this time."
Which would destroy the economy for the kingdom, she knew, but an example must be made.
"You mentioned several matters, I believe. What other news?"
"We are tracking a large column of Alarian soldiers, who march from Imis. At first they marched to where The Havock made landfall, but they have altered course and are coming directly toward us. They should arrive in several hours’ time, as well."
The wizard braced for the bolt that must surely be flung from that news, but instead he saw Elasha smiled.
"I don't know how my littlest sister finally discovered I am behind the plagues, but, so be it. Summon the Archanist; we must prepare a welcome for them. Once the Arch Duchess sees how easily her finest troops are disposed of, she will comply with anything I demand. Including abdicating power to me."
'And turning over the sniveling di'Sona to me for some real fun.'
"But you mentioned several things, High Wizard Kuvras. Is there something else?"
"Um... uh... you see..."
"Out with it, man! We haven't all day! We have much to do before our guests arrive."
"Another sailboat has been spotted, and is heading toward us as well."
"You mean headed to where Angrove landed?" Elasha asked, slightly confused.
"No, I mean, headed to us. Through the air," Kuvras stammered. "It's ...er ...flying."
Elasha's eyes blazed red once she understood and she whispered one word, dripping with hate:
"Isaura!"
The energy bolt flew from her hand.
***
"Beyond Beurl'Aana, and resting far below the Sacred Grove of Aana, there is a lake - I Hithui Ael - in Alarian. I keep a small rustic villa there. I'll put The Hope of Aana down near it."
"I Hithui Ael." Ashe let it roll off her tongue, making the sorceress smile; their language sounded exquisite when the girl spoke it. Isaura couldn't contain her giggling as she imagined Ashe cursing in Alarian.
"What a beautiful name. What's it mean? And why are you laughing?"
"Nothing; thinking of something funny," Isaura answered. "It means, 'The Misty Lake.' We'll land there."
"Reln"
The sorceress guided The Hope of Aana down with her wand to a point on the lake’s shore where a wooden dock stood next to the shore. The Hope of Aana settled into the water with barely a splash.
Nearby, Isaura's 'rustic villa' looked more like a palace: its walls, ornate columns and roof were constructed of rich green marble, which blended seamlessly with the forest that surrounded it. Ashe heard the splashing of fountains, and based on her visit to Isaura's other lodging she'd visited, Celemiril Manor, she could already envision how sumptuous the place was.
"I don't think the words 'tiny place' and 'rustic villa' mean what you think they mean, Isaura," Ashe said.
"Perhaps, but before you deem my descriptions misapplied," Isaura answered, as the three of them hopped onto the dock. "You must see my palace in the southern province of the Khedel Empire."
"P-palace?" Ashe stuttered, looking to Zinjo for help.
"Iz beeg," he answered, as he finished securing The Hope of Aana to the dock.
"Now who's misapplying words," Isaura said with a huff. "It's huge! You'll especially love the library I've compiled there, easily the largest private one in the Seven Kingdoms."
"Seriously??? I'd love to-"
Before she could explore that gem Isaura had tossed her further, a small bright voice interrupted them.
"Greetings, Mistresses Isaura and Ashera and you, most noble Zinjo. Welcome to Villa bui i Ael."
A small formally dressed Fefnoir man made a deep bow.
"How wonderful to see you, Pipdap," Isaura answered, bowing in return.
Ashe and Zinjo did too, though after she finished her bow, Ashe bit her lower lip, her face showing confusion.
"Er, thank you, ...Pipdap?" Ashe said, "but how you know my name?"
"Oh, Peppenet and Piproos sent word," he said, smiling wide.
When Isaura saw the next logical question forming in the girl's mind, about how that communication was even possible, Isaura shook her head to her, whispering, "Fefnoir magic. Don't even ask. No one understands it."
"Mistress," Pipdap said solemnly, "A full regiment of Alarian soldiers and wizards march to Beurl'Aana, led by your sister di'Sona and the Arch Duchess herself. Also, we have detected a large group of less than savory people making their way to Beurl'Aana from the coast. Based on this and Mistress' unusual form of arrival, we have guessed Mistress is not coming for a relaxing stay. We have taken the liberty of readying mounts for you and Mistress Ashe, and have a Uthain steed for Master Zinjo as well. Have we presumed too much?"
"No, my esteemed friend," Isaura said, "as always, you have presumed perfectly. We ride for Beurl'Aana as well."
***
Myantha stared out of the window of her carriage, watching the forest grow thicker by the mile. Beside her, di'Sona read from a grimoire, her face locked in focus and concentration.
'Memorizing spells for her dual with Elasha,' Myantha thought. And then worried, for Elasha was rumored to be the most powerful sorceress among the Alarians. The Arch Duchess admired di'Sona's courage, whatever misgivings she had about the woman's well-known cruelty.
'At least she is loyal,' Myantha conceded.
Across from her sat Masters Vataz and Ifeus, alquimista professors from their Imis academy.
'This alquimista...such a strange human profession and study,' the Arch Duchess thought. 'And something we must pay attention to, in the future, if one of their own has devised such a terrible disease. Our arrogance blinded us to this danger.'
She listened in on their whispered conversation. Humans rarely understood the reach of Alarian senses. These men were worried, obviously, for they were literally wringing their hands. Myantha had thought that description was only used by obtuse literary hacks, but these men were doing it before her.
"Once we have Blood Burn's compound in a containment box, how will we destroy it?" whispered Vataz. "Would fire do it?"
"No," answered Ifeus, in an equally low whisper, "according to the notes we received, it reacts to fire in the same manner as black powder. It would spread the pathogen exponentially."
"What then, dilution? We haven't the proper protection equipment to risk it in the field," Vataz said.
"No, no, agreed," Ifeus said. "Perhaps cold is the only option, and we let time degrade the components. According to the observations made by the apprentice Aesh-"
"What did you just say?" di'Sona demanded, her full attention now on the men.
"Er, I said cold might be an-"
"No, the name you just spoke, idiot."
"Aesh, from Ogda," Ifeus answered in a shaky voice. He is the brilliant alquimista who uncovered Blood Burn's perverted plans."
"And... where is he now, this Aesh?" A hint of uncertainty had crept into her voice.
"Word came to us he was last seen in Millcrest some months ago, by Master Bexon. He'd found a lead and left alone to track the Archanist. No one has heard from him since. He is feared to be dead."
"Why do you ask of him?" the Arch Duchess asked, curious now. "Is he important? The name does sound familiar..."
"I... uh ...no reason-"
"-Arch Duchess! Mistress di'Sona! News!" an Alarian courier interrupted, riding his steed alongside the moving carriage.
"We have received word that a ...flying ship ... was spotted overhead, landing in I Hithui Ael."
Myantha's head whipped around to di'Sona. "Well, advisor? What the hells does this mean?"
"It could only be ...Isaura ...Arch Duchess."
'The third Faeyra sister, oh peachy,' Myantha thought. 'The Faeyra sister no one knows the measure of because she chooses self-exile from Alari. We face Elasha, our most powerful wizard, who has partnered with a human who has devised a horrific plague, and now a wild card comes flying in - literally.'
"The Faeyra clan," Myantha muttered in disgust. "I now fully appreciate the wisdom of our ancestors who forever barred them from ruling Alari."
***
An hour's hard ride along the banks of I Hithui Ael brought the trio below the forested plateau where the ancestral home of the Alarians stood, the palace of Beurl'Aana. Ashe could just make out its green spires poking above the canopy of thick trees.
They dismounted to give their horses a rest before making the final push.
"You ride well," Isaura said to Ashe. It didn't surprise her, for even when her mind was dulled and broken by the Torc, her competent handling of the tack was automatic; the girl obvious knew her way around a horse. But Ashe rode today like she was born to the saddle.
"Thanks, after my family died, I worked for years as a stable boy at the race track in Edefia to survive," Ashe answered. "I often rode the race horses on off days to give them a workout."
"Ah, ha!" Isaura said, "that is where you learned your colorful language, I bet."
"The basics, maybe, but the creative embellishments are all mine," Ashe answered, then stared up at the distant palace. "So what's our plan?"
"Da, witch woman," Zinjo said, "must have plan more than blast things."
"Honestly, I don't know what to expect. I hope to neutralize Elasha and any other wizards or sorceresses who may follow her. Zinjo will be able to account for soldiers my older sister has..."
"Da," the giant said solemnly, and as the memory of the one hundred foot giant wrestling the sea monster flashed in her head, Ashe would have bet all her money he would win (if she had any).
Isaura held each of Ashe's shoulders and looked down into the girl's eyes.
"I'm counting on you to find Blood Burn and take his anti-life serum, Ashe, for I believe this is your destiny. Your discovery of his notes, the famed Ailana Crow seeking you out and the fortune she read for you, your meeting with Shea - yes, even that - ...your incredible transformation..."
'I still can make no sense of that, Isaura thought, '-why she was goddess-changed, and especially why into a girl- but I know there is purpose behind it!'
"...our journey together ...all leads here."
Isaura watched the girl's eyes darken, and she turned to gaze through the forest and out over the Misty Lake. An Alarian sunset dappled its waters and turned the rising wisps of mist to hues of orange and red. Two great blue herons flew low, skimming the surface, their great wings occasionally slashing wetness on their downward strokes.
"What's wrong, love?" Was it doubt she'd seen in Ashe's eyes? When she gently turned the girl's head to face hers, she saw the tears.
"Iz no shame in being scared, leetle one, but know witch and Zinjo have your back."
"I'm not scared. Well, look, only a fuck faced turd sniffer wouldn't be scared to death by what Breviar has made. It would wipe out all the living wonder that surrounds us. Add in Elasha, who from what Isaura said is wicked powerful, and yeah I'm scared, but that's not it."
"Then what is it, sweetie?" Isaura asked, wiping away a tear rolling down the girl's cheek.
"I-I know this sounds crazy, because it's only been a week or so since I awoke in that cave with you, but I feel like I've known you for much... I mean, I feel like we..."
Ashe stumbled with her words and emotions welling within her that until this moment she hadn't known were so strong.
"I really like you both. No, 'like' doesn't capture it at all... fuck! I'm an idiot..."
Ashe could tell by the perplexed looks of the sorceress and the giant that she had lost them, so she gathered her thoughts and tried again.
"This past week... which has been sooo weird for me..." Ashe rolled her eyes internally at that vast understatement, and didn't bother motioning to her body; she figured they'd know what she meant. "...but leaving all that aside, with the two of you? I felt something I haven't since my family died. I belonged. And... and..."
Ashe huffed in exasperation; despite her reputation for flamboyant verbage, she'd always struggled to express her deepest feelings.
"Girl iz most right." Zinjo said, coming to her rescue, and giving the top of her head an affectionate rub. "We love her dearly,"
"Absolutely we do..." Isaura seconded strongly. Then she guessed what the girl was really trying to say, the tip-off being the past tense 'meant' and not 'means'.
"...you don't think we are going to survive, do you?"
"No, it's not a 'world coming to an end' feeling," the girl answered, "though it could. It's just..."
Ashe let out a frustrated sigh, and tried to convey what she meant yet again.
"During this long journey which started for me in that library many months ago, I really died once, I think, killed by the Torc. But coincidentally, an incredibly powerful sorceress found me and managed to resurrect me. Then when I dove into the sea after I learned I'd killed..."
Ashe still couldn't bring herself to say those words, that she killed Shea.
"...after I learned that and jumped, I should have died - I wanted to die - but there just happened to be a magical giant nearby who pulled me from the depths of the sea and saved me again. I've cheated death twice. But the third time's the charm, as they say."
"Do not say such, leetle one," Zinjo said, his worry even thicker than his accent, "iz bad luck."
"I don't fear death. I... I think I'm ready for it," she said, then her eyes turned wet again with fresh tears, and she looked first at Zinjo, then Isaura. "I... just wanted you both to know whatever happens... ...I love you... and I will try my best not to let you down."
They spoke many words after that, all from the heart; Isaura wrapping her arms around the small girl, and Zinjo enveloping them both in his massive arms.
Soon, they mounted and rode, up the winding path to Beurl'Aana. And as they did, Isaura couldn't shake the feeling - she, too, sensed a doom hanging over the girl.
***
Arch Duchess Myantha gazed up at the ancestral palace and heaved a sigh; the wondrous structure was part of an Alarian's soul. Its architecture wove ribbons of white and green granite into patterns that, depending on the time of day, shone brilliantly, or became completely camouflaged by the Alarian forest. It was at its most glorious white now, at dusk. That she was now forced to lay siege to it was tragic.
Beside her, di'Sona and an Alarian regiment of over two thousand soldiers and wizards stood poised, surrounding the ancient palace of Beurl'Aana.
"It's over, Elasha." Myantha's voice echoed clear in the cool evening. "Don't embarrass yourself, and your family, by drawing this out."
Silence was her reply.
"Perhaps they are sleeping," Myantha said as she turned from looking up at the palace barbican to her sorceress. "Wake them."
di'Sona pulled her wand from her purple robes, and flicked it toward the palace.
"kikh"
A force slammed against the palace facade. Invisible, but for the air compression, pushing dust up and flying.
"Knock, knock," di'Sona said.
The doors at the barbican level opened, and a woman walk to the banister, clothed it a pure white silken robe, rich black hair pinned in an updo, a circlet of gold gleaming on her head - there was never mistaking a Faeyra sister when you saw one.
di'Sona whispered, "Elasha," through gritted teeth.
"Some little girls never learn their lesson," Elasha said. She raised a hand that suddenly had a white wand in it and spoke the word dalo.
Fire roared from her wand streaming down toward di'Sona and Myantha. di'Sona spoke a quick ruhuss, inserting an invisible wall in front of them. The fire slammed into it, making it glow red, then white.
Beads of sweat began forming on di'Sona's brow; her sister was pouring everything she had into this test of wills - she'd forgotten how amazingly strong Elasha's magic was - and she wasn't sure how long she could hold it back.
"She means to end this right now," di'Sona said under her breath to Myantha.
"Can you... hold her back?" The Arch Duchess looked to her left and right to see if other wizards could aid her sorceress, but they already were, pouring their energies into the shield.
"Will it be en-"
The Arch Duchess never finished her sentence, for Elasha gave a high yelp and was flung to the stone floor. The stream of fire blinked out.
"And what lesson is that, Sister?" a clear voice rang out.
The Arch Duchess, di'Sona, and the Alarian troops turned to find who had spoken. Far to their left flank, on a small plateau, they spotted, first a giant, then a woman wearing rich green robes holding a dark wand aloft, and beside her, a petite young Alarian woman.
"Isaura, I presume," Myantha said.
Elasha had risen and dashed to the balcony of the barbican.
"How like you to strike a dirty blow rather than face me," Elasha's voice echoed. "As ever, you are incapable of the noble path."
"It's true," Isaura answered, her voice also amplified by Alarian magic. "Releasing plagues upon the Seven Kingdoms and blackmailing them for the cure, that high-minded altruism was always out of my reach."
"You promised to never set foot in Beurl'Aana forever in exchange for the coin I paid you," Elasha hissed. "Yet here you stand; such is the value of your word."
"But surely you read the fine print in our contract, Sister," Isaura called back. "The one which reads 'this contract is null and void if you harbor anyone who creates a serum which will end all life'."
"My only regret was darling Shea emptied her mind of her memories of you before I captured her..." Elasha replied, her voice suddenly, sickeningly sweet. It was the one she used to torment her sisters those many decades ago.
Whenever di'Sona heard it from her oldest sister, she cringed, for she knew some cruelty would soon be inflicted on her. Even now, di'Sona grimaced at the sound of it.
It produced a different reaction those many decades ago in Isaura: cold rage. When she heard it, she lashed out at her sister. That was exactly Elasha's intent, for then her parents would punish Isaura, and the kindest thing anyone could say of Faeyra punishments was they were creative.
"...I would have loved to pull each of those out and twist them round and round. Rest assured she learned true pain before I released her in Imis. I'm sure she would have cried out for you, if only she could have remembered who you were."
Myantha watched Isaura's wand arm shoot up again, but saw the young Alarian girl grab the sorceress' arm. Isaura tilted her head to listen to the girl, and then lowered her arm.
"Have you no reply?" Elasha called. "Or did you care so little for her?"
"My young friend warned me you were trying to enrage me into making a mistake," Isaura said, with frost in her voice. "Her exact words were 'you know, that leg humping sack of shit is trying to bait you, right?'..."
The Alarian troops snickered and chuckled on hearing that, making Elasha face burn hot red.
"...I think she is being charitable. You are pathetic, Elasha. I'm guessing you've even given yourself a vain narcissistic title... wait... wait... I bet it's something like 'Empress.' Do you have a pretty uniform too?"
"You are beneath me!" Elasha called out, and drew herself up to her full height. "While you've been shuffling about the world, I've been building power, consolidating, practicing my craft. You are outmatched in every way. Be gone. Turn and run. Now! Do not stop until you are far, far away. Never show your face to me again."
"I swore to our parents I wouldn't give you the death you so richly deserve," Isaura answered, "it's why I left Alari. Yet for what you did to my daughter, I renounce that vow. I pray to Aana to help me not take pleasure in this, but I fear I will."
"So be i!," Elasha screamed, "You. Die. Now."
"dalo"
***
Ashe resisted the urge to duck as fire blasted toward them. Isaura spoke the word rhaiarn and an invisible shield appeared before them, blocking the fire.
"She does have strength, I'll give her that," Isaura said, but her voice didn't show any strain as far as Ashe could tell. "Did you notice anything different about what I did as opposed to di'Sona?"
Ashe wondered at that; as white hot fire blasted in front of them, Isaura thought it presented a 'teachable moment.' There really must not be much danger from Elasha's attack; a quick glance at Zinjo's face showed an expression more akin to boredom rather than worry. Ashe replayed the last few minutes in her mind.
"di'Sona used a different word than you did to make this... shield?" Ashe said. "She spoke the word-"
"-Don't repeat it," Isaura said, "but yes. Alarians like to use what is called energui ingole, or energy magic. It's blunt, but effective, especially given Alarians’ inborn affinity for magic. I know a few other forms, and created my shield using an ancient dwarvish magic called aranalder, or 'elemental' in the common tongue."
"Um, so, what's the difference?" Ashe asked, trying hard to be as nonchalant as Isaura as a searing stream of fire battered the shield only steps away.
"Ashe! Oh no! Iz just the question witch woman wanted," Zinjo said, "Now we suffer long and stuffy speech on different magics!"
"Funny man," Isaura said. "And no, I won't bore you with a long-winded speech on the differences. I'll show you. For you see, while energui ingole shields simply block, almost as if they were a slab of stone, aranalder magic is more ...pliable. Watch this."
Isaura began manipulating the air with her free hand, and the shield changed its shape as she did, first forming a curved surface, which funneled Elasha's energy stream upward, then curving over, forming a loop through which the fire flowed up and then back ...at Elasha.
With a quick ruhuss, Elasha threw up a shield, to block her own fire.
"Oh dear me, Sister," Isaura called, "how careless; such a beginner's trap to fall in. If you speak 'koaeto' to cease the fire, you'll also remove your shield and will be burned by the flame still in my loop. But if you don't, eventually your shield will fail, and again, crispy Elasha."
Elasha let loose a string of expletives in reply. To which, Isaura raised her eyebrow and looked at Ashe.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Ashe asked, trying to figure out what lesson she was being directed to now.
"Her cursing. I'm sure that as a professional, you have thoughts on its quality."
"I mean, anyone can indiscriminately drop the f-bomb. Fuck this, fuck that, fuck, fuck, fuck. It becomes meaningless. I save mine up and use them sparingly for maximum effect," Ashe said, though her heart wasn't in it.
She worried still about the threat Isaura's sister posed; she sensed they were far from finished, that Elasha was vicious and had other defenses to be wary of. They still needed to enter the palace, find Breviar, secure the serum.
"Please be careful."
Elasha yelled and motioned to someone in the barbican doorway as she struggled to keep her shield in place. A dozen or so robed men and women - wizards and sorceresses, she guessed - filed out, pointing their wands at Isaura, chanting words, and soon, Isaura's shield was under attack from wind, ice, and fire.
Ashe wasn't sure how to read their threat level now; Isaura did seem to be struggling now - and why weren't the Alarian wizards aiding them? - but the sorceress give a quick smile and wink.
"Oh no!" Zinjo said, "Hold hands over ears, leetle one! Witch woman is using Necrosong chants!"
Isaura spoke a string of words that hurt Ashe's ears to hear, sharp guttural and black:
Tuko khlok lak koxail lovk
Over and over, Isaura spoke them, her own voice growing hoarse in the speaking. Dark things appeared in the air around her - Ashe couldn’t decide if they were ravens, bats or some other dark creatures, but once the creatures were a thick flock, Isaura spoke a final word that sounded like a snake's hiss:
Fisis
The dark forms shrieked toward Elasha and her wizards, shredding and devouring all magical energy before them. Emitting a high-pitched buzzing, they swarmed the wizards, swirling around, and then passing through them. Over and over. Elasha and her wizards frantically swatted at the things, twisting and turning to escape, but still the apparitions hunted and fed.
Finally, the black swarm turned, paused as if digesting, then back and raced toward Isaura. Who uttered: derxomk
The swarm vanished.
For a moment, silence, giving Ashe time to wonder 'what the holy wanking hells just happened?'
"What did you do?" Elasha wondered the same. Yet her voice was slight, unamplified by magic. She squealed, "what did you do?!"
"You ...took her magic," Ashe said, holding her palm up. She no longer sensed the tickle of energy from Elasha and her followers.
"As Zinjo said, it is from the Necrosong," Isaura said, her voice recovering. "The Odes of the Daemon. The darkest of magics. I found the tome hidden in his temple ruins in the sunken lands. The cover of the tome ...bleeds black blood. The effect is temporary though; the loss of magic lasts only a few days. But plenty of time for our purposes."
"Wait, what?!" Ashe's head swirled trying to comprehend the sorceress' words, packed full of what surely must be complex and arcane subjects - Daemon? Sunken lands? Bleeding books? - each worthy of years of study.
"Stolen! My magic is gone! You bitch!" Elasha howled. "Launch the gas. Kill them all!"
***
Thumping popping sounds started coming from behind the palace walls. Soon, large clay pots began crashing in front of the Alarian army, releasing seemingly... nothing. Yet the clay pot cannon fire increased exponentially, sending a rain of pots down in front of the soldiers.
Then, one by one, those soldiers closest to the pots fell to the ground, unmoving.
Though Isaura and Ashe could see the effects from their vantage point, the commanders of the Alarian army, including di'Sona and the Arch Duchess, were too far behind their lines to have a clear view.
Sensing disaster, Ashe breathed deeply, using her new senses to the fullest, and detected the faintest smell of rotten eggs.
"Sulfide!" Ashe tugged on Isaura's robe sleeve. "It's bad Dragon's Breath... er... it's bad gas! Get everyone back! It kills instantly!"
Isaura didn't doubt Ashe for a second. She waved her wand and spoke:
"lles rfaec"
*Sister, Elasha is launching poison gas upon your troops. Pull back! One hundred yards at least.*
*Are you certain it's not a trick? I would hate to give up our advantage.*
Dozens of those on the front line had toppled over and now soldiers further back began falling.
*Your men and women are dying! PULL BACK!!!*
Recall was quickly sounded, though not soon enough for the one hundred who already were dead. The firing of the pots soon dwindled to a few crashing down to earth, then none.
Though colorless, the gas from the rain of pots had formed a blurry cloud in front of the palace entrance. The sorceress's mind rifled through dozens of barrier spells, each slightly different; one an ice barrier, another a flame, and so on. But what she didn't know was whether any offer complete protection from the gas. Then Isaura had another idea.
"What may be done about this gas, Ashe?" Isaura said.
"How did you talk with your sister like that?"
"It's called Far Speak. It's only works within a mile or so, but if in range, it’s much easier and clearer than scry speech," the sorceress answered hurriedly.
"Wow! Scrying, Far Speech, you magic types have all the cool stuff! I can't wait to learn it."
"*Ahem!* Focus Ashe," Isaura chided, "Tell me about the gas. Your thoughts quickly!"
"Oh! Yes, letting it dissipate would be easiest, but..."
Ashe had a sudden thought, but then shook her head, for what she first conceived would mean everyone in the palace would die. And she would NOT kill. Instead, She eyed the swift moving clouds above.
"Dilution is the solution to pollution," Ashe said.
"And what does that mean?" Isaura asked.
"It means... Zinjo, can you blow the way you did when you sealed The Hope of Aana, but at an angle," Ashe used her arm to show the angle upward she wanted, "and blow the gas upward? It soon would become harmless once the wind sweeps it away into the upper sky."
The giant nodded his understanding, grinned, took a deep, deep, deep breath, and with the sound of whooshing that mimicked a gale wind, blew a concentrated steady wind stream in the elevated angle Ashe's arm pointed.
The steady hurricane force winds sprayed the clay pot fragments everywhere, but also lifted the poisonous stagnant fumes high into the air, where the upper winds grabbed it and took it higher still, spreading and mingling, and carrying it away.
"Thanks Zinjo," Ashe said with awe when the giant stopped blowing. She turned to Isaura and whispered, "I think it's safe now."
"Thank you, Ashe," Isaura said to the young woman, the admiration clear in her voice. She spoke the Far Speak spell again, an addressed her younger sister once more.
"The gas is gone, Sister. Your troops may advance without fear."
"We heard a great wind from near you. Was that your doing? Are you certain it is safe?"
The sorceress looked at Ashe and smiled. "Very."
Soon, a trumpet sounded, and they heard the battle chant of the Alarian regiment as it rushed toward the palace.
The troops encountered no magical resistance either, as Elasha's own wizards suffered the same fate as she - their magic was gone - and quickly the Alarian wizards battered opened the palace doors with their spell.
Elasha's guards weren't disarmed, meeting the Arch Duchess' soldiers with fierce resistance inside the palace. Isaura's heart sank as Alarian blood was spilled - and their immortal lives ended - in the ancient Faeyra hallways. Isaura watched a contingent of Alarian wizards, led by her younger sister, push inside to join the fight.
"We've got to get inside and try to stop this tragedy," she said, turning to Zinjo and Ashe. "I fear for what will happen when di'Sona finds Elasha."
"Way iz clogged with soldiers," the giant answered as he surveyed the mass of men and women trying to squeeze through the palace doors to join the fight. "I fear I hurt many if I try to push through."
"There is another way, a secret entrance to the palace," Isaura said frowning. "Through the Sacred Pool of Aana."
"A secret entrance? Oh why doesn't this surprise me?" Ashe said wryly.
"I'm certain Elasha has more planned than battling this out," Isaura said. “And we have yet to hear from Blood Burn and his death plague."
"You don't think she would unleash that, do you?" Ashe said, alarm filling her voice. "Gods! It would kill her too!"
"If di'Sona traps Elasha... her hatred would blind her to reason; she is capable of anything," the sorceress replied. "I must be there to stop it!"
"Then let's go," Ashe said. "maybe Zinjo can-"
"No!" Isaura answered sternly. "The Pool is hallowed ground for Aana. It is the goddess' most sacred sanctuary. Her pure essence abides there. In the history of the Seven Kingdoms, no man has ever been permitted to approach it."
"Oh, I'd forgotten that," Ashe said, vaguely remembering from her university Seven Kingdoms history class something about the prohibition. "But surely with the stakes so high that rule can be overlooked this once!"
"No! It's not a case of 'suspending rules'!" Isaura said. "Any male setting foot on Aana's grounds is killed, instantly."
"Iz true," Zinjo answered. "Has always been so."
"Well, fuck me running!" Ashe muttered as she shook her head.
"Mount up, Ashe," Isaura said as she ran to her steed. "Zinjo, try to get through as best you can!"
The giant nodded and without another word, he bounded forward in huge leaps toward the palace doors.
Isaura watched as the giant suddenly jumped high into the air, to land on the barbican palace level, where he could enter without running over half the Alarian army.
"Smart," Isaura said with a smile. She turned to Ashe, and saw the girl was mounted. "Ready?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
The sorceress paused briefly to consider something, the one mystery that had troubled her for days - why had the young alquimista been transformed into a woman? Because now, they traveled to the one place in the Seven Kingdoms where Aesh could never come, yet Ashe was free to enter.
'Interesting,' the sorceress thought, then sighed in frustration. 'No time to think through the implication.'
"Follow meeee!" Isaura shouted, and spurred her mount into a gallop.
'Follow me?' Ashe thought, as she urged her own mount to give chase. 'Who's been reading cheesy romance stories now?'
***
The ride was exhilarating and quick, bringing the pair through a wooded path so dense with trees that Ashe felt she rode through a tunnel. They spilled out into a clearing that stood before an arched stone gate. An ancient moss-covered stone wall, six feet high, stretched away on either side for as far as Ashe could see. Above the top of the Arch rested a stone chalice. It looked familiar to her. She puzzled on it for a moment before she realized where she'd seen it before:
'In the reading with Ailana Crow. The goddess card! It's the cup she held!'
Isaura vaulted from her horse and walked quickly through the gate. Ashe dismounted slowly; taking a moment to absorb it: the gate to the goddess' most hallowed place in the Seven Kingdoms, and the surrounding forest and trees. For all the fame of this spot, and the danger that went with it, Ashe thought this entrance to Aana's Sacred Pool seemed pretty low-key.
'Maybe the front door is fancier.'
The young Alarian turned her gaze to the dense thick Eemen trees. To her, the place seemed lush, dense, and primeval.' she thought.
She noticed it then, the oddity: there were no sounds: neither bird song, nor rustling of leaves, only silence. She felt the strangeness, too, or rather it struck her, heavy, thick and all around.
'Anger! Deep seething anger!'
Ashe hurried through the gate to join Isaura.
"The goddess is pissed!"
Isaura started to chide Ashe about her irreverence, but stopped. The girl wasn't wrong - the sorceress had felt the goddess' displeasure growing stronger as they rode, and here Aana's presence was wrathful. This kind of wrath was usually followed by lightning bolts. “Pissed” was as accurate a word as any.
"Very. And there is why," Isaura raised her hand to point. "Where are the priestesses, and why haven't they removed that abomination?"
Ashe's gaze followed to the spot Isaura pointed. As she did, her sight traveled across the surface of a pool of water that was glass smooth; a mirror of gold to the canopy of ancient Eemen trees above.
What Ashe didn't know was that the pool could show so much more than reflecting images. For those trained deeply in the learnings of Aana, it is said that the pool might also show the First Days, the End Time, or even strange other worlds.
What Ashe did know was the thing Isaura pointed to, that which she called 'abomination', was a large cube, sitting at the pool's edge on the far shore. Inlaid with red gold leaf, she estimated its height at five feet.
"An alquimista puzzle box, I think," Ashe squinted, using every bit of her new elven enhanced vision to scan it. "What the hells is it doing here?"
"You think?" Isaura asked, her voice inflecting higher. "I need better! That shouldn't be there! It is a sacrilege beyond reckoning! The priestesses of the pool are missing, and Aana is only barely holding herself back from raining down fire and destruction! I feel it! Elasha has done this! But why?!"
"It sure looks like a puzzle box... it must be one, but-"
"-but what?" Isaura interrupted. "You've tried to open them, yes? Why the uncertainty?"
"There are twelve known puzzle boxes," Ashe said, "I've researched all of them, almost opened two, and know for certain this isn't one of-"
"-we don't have time, Ashe," Isaura grabbed Ashe's hand and started jogging around the pool shores. Once around it, there were stairs that led up to The Temple of Aana, and through that, they would come to the rear entrance of Beurl'Aana.
"My sisters are fighting nearby with their armies. Let's fly to the rear palace entrance and get that serum! We'll deal with this after."
"No, wait, wait!" Ashe said, thinking fast even as she jogged beside Isaura. "This may be important! The existing boxes were patterned after a thirteenth, the original. Theodophilus the Wise designed it; a master work. The Chronicle of Theodophilus claims it is far, far harder to open than the puzzle boxes that followed. The text stated he paid someone named Krornuik Aleminer to build it to Theo's exact specifications."
"Krornuik? Hmm."
That was a name Isaura hadn't heard in over six decades. She stopped running; her interest was sparked.
"My father commissioned several pieces from that old dwarf; his craftsmanship was unsurpassed in the Seven Kingdoms. He only worked with the finest dwarvian gold... red gold... Tell me more, but quickly. Was the original used in the alquimista master's test as the boxes are today?
"No, Theo meant for the box to house the chrysopeia - our “lead to” formula - for safekeeping," Ashe answered. "He designed the inner chamber to explode, if someone tried to break in or failed to answer the puzzle questions correctly."
"And so that’s what it was used for?" Isaura had thought they were on to something, for the large cube looked to her to be the work of Krornuik. But she failed to see what part this played in her sister's plans. And they needed to be moving again, now.
"Ultimately no. The text says - and I'm paraphrasing here - they figured out how incredibly fucking stupid the idea was. When they tested it, the puzzles Theo embedded in the cube were so hard even he couldn't open it. The alquimista masters started worrying-"
"-Okay, Ashe, okay," Isaura said, her patience at an end. She grabbed the girl's hand again. "It shouldn't be here, but we'll sort this out later. C'mon."
"No!" Ashe pulled away. "Don't you see? I'd bet you anything Breviar's serum is right here, locked inside the box!"
"It is?" They had reached the other side of the pool and were much closer to it. Isaura ran her hand gently over the buffer red gold surface. She tried to sense the life-cancelling threat that might rest within.
"Can you open it?"
"I ...doubt it, if Theo couldn't..."
Ashe had already found the knob to activate the first puzzle and her hand rested on it. She was tempted to try the cube, but stopped.
"...I think ...we must unlock it with Krornuik's key. One wrong answer, or the timer expiring and *boom*! Which would ignite the serum..."
"And life everywhere is annihilated," Isaura finished the thought. "This may be why Aana hasn't blasted it. What would happen if I used magic to move it-"
"-No! Any movement or force will trigger it."
"I was afraid of that," Isaura said. She was also afraid of who must possess the key.
'Elasha!'
"Hurry, Ashe," the sorceress said with urgency bordering on panic. She grabbed the girl and yanked her toward the stones steps leading up from the pool to the temple. "We've wasted too much time here!"
***
After Isaura and Ashe raced to Aana's temple, they found it unnecessary to run further to find them. The battle spilled out of the palace and found them.
Though Captain Argrove, his crew, and Elasha's guard fought a fierce defense, without her magic or their poisonous weapons, they were no match for the Alarian regiment. They managed to slow the Alarians enough to allow Elasha and her wizards... to retreat. They hadn't noticed Isaura and Ashe yet, because their heads craned back to the fighting.
As Ashe gazed through the magical looking glass Isaura had again raise, she tried to read Elasha’s expression: her face was so much like Isaura's; the classic Faeyra looks, she knew now, having also looked at di'Sona earlier too: rose red lips, dewy olive skin, and haunting ice blue eyes. But so different, too. Ashe read expressions she'd never seen on Isaura - hate and arrogance etched it in. She saw new ones too, surprise and fear.
"Watch this," Isaura said, raising her arms with wand in hand. "Ruhuss."
Ashe remembered from the magical attacks earlier the word meant 'shield', and also remembered the kind of magic Isaura named it - energui ingole,
"Energy magic," Ashe said, and felt the surge flow from the sorceress. She'd felt the strength of Elasha's energui ingole earlier, and knew instantly Isaura's was far, far stronger. Her 'shield' was an enormous wall. Ashe could see the air shimmering where it stood.
"Wow!"
"Glad you like it," Isaura said, with just the slightest hint of smugness. "Zinjo is always so stingy with the compliments when I do something amazing. They should be reaching it just about..."
A cadre of men and women in colorful full robes - wizards, Ashe assumed - were running toward them full tilt, when suddenly they slammed into something and fell to the ground.
"...now."
Several more cautiously bumped into it and began moving their hands along it to find an opening. More of Elasha's supporters found the wall, and shouted "we're trapped!" or other more panicked expressions.
Elasha herself joined the growing group, recognizing quickly the problem. Ashe watched her raise her wand, point it in the direction Isaura had placed her shield, her mouth moved to utter words, and ...nothing happened.
She screamed and screeched, her shouts growing all the louder when she spotted Isaura.
At that very moment, Captain Argrove - who apparently was not incentivized to “die to the last man” - shouted an order. His troops dropped their swords and held their arms in the air. The Alarian soldiers quickly surrounded them, taking their weapons and herding the prisoners back to the palace to, Ashe guessed, some room or even a dungeon where they could be held.
When Isaura saw Elasha and her advisors had also been surrounded, she lowered her shield.
"Where's Zinjo?" the sorceress scanned the crowd that was building around her older sister.
A chaos of sorts unfolded, then someone - the Alarian soldiers, Ashe presumed - had released the prisoners that were being held, and a large group of priestesses of Aana sprinted toward the sacred pool, pointing at the puzzle box, wailing and pulling their hair.
The mass of soldiers parted, to allow the Arch Duchess, di'Sona, and a half dozen black robed alquimistas to walk through to approach Elasha.Then Zinjo came storming forward, holding a man in his hands the way a child might hold a doll.(You’re not supposed to begin a sentence with “And”, but I will make an exception this time. )(On second thought, I like “Then” better.
"That's Breviar!" Ashe exclaimed.
"I figured," Isaura answered. "Let's hurry; we need to find the key to the box quickly. I don't think di'Sona or the Arch Duchess has any idea that the real danger still exists."
They elbowed their way to where di'Sona and Elasha stood, expecting to hear Elasha's capitulation. Instead, they heard her demands.
"...will withdraw your troops immediately. Further, you will abdicate all power to me."
"You're insane, sister," di'Sona said. "In what bizarro world do you inhabit where could you possibly think you could bargain with us?"
"And you," Elasha said, ignoring di'Sona as she turned her attention to Isaura, "you will restore my magic to me this instant!"
"Or what?" Isaura answered. "Here's what I think is going to happen. You will give me the key to the alquimista puzzle box now, and maybe, just maybe, we can bury you so deep in a dungeon that Aana's lightning bolts won't reach you."
"Puzzle box," the alquimista Vataz said, "what puzzle box?"
The gaggle of black robed alquimistas echoed similar responses.
"The one desecrating Aana's sacred pool down below her temple," Isaura said, nodding her head toward the marble building behind her. "Now, Elasha, the key please?"
"I underestimated you," Elasha said in a quiet voice. "Your powers have grown far beyond anything I could have ever imagined. In a way, I'm proud of you, Sister. And yet... have you not underestimated me as well? Since when have you ever known me to not have a backup plan, or even a backup plan for my backup plan?"
"Does she still pose a threat?" Myantha asked di'Sona. The two were drawn to where Isaura and Ashe confronted Elasha.
"I fail to see how, your Grace," di'Sona answered with a shrug. "her troops have surrendered, she has been stripped of her magic - nice trick that, Isaura - and all that remains is for us to find this 'potion' the rogue alquimista devised and either destroy it or safely store it. We have all the time in the world for that, and very persuasive tools to use as well."
"Do you?" Elasha said with a small smile. "Have all the time in the world? I suspect not. I think you have just about an hour before Blood Burn's serum is ignited and every living thing for thousands of miles around is destroyed."
"Explain yourself this instant," di'Sona said, "or I will rip the answers from your head."
From beneath her robe, the youngest Faeyra sister produced a rough iron collar.
"The Torc?" Myantha gasped. "But that is never to be used unless the Alarian council has approved and then only in the most dire of circumstances!"
"I'd say the annihilation of all life in the Seven Kingdoms probably qualifies," di'Sona answered smugly, and took a step toward Elasha. "Hold her!"
"No! Get that hideous thing away from me!" Elasha scrambled back, terror showing in her eyes. "I will gladly tell you everything!"
Ashe gave a questioning look to Isaura, to which the sorceress nodded sadly, and whispered:
"Yes, it is what Yoke of Despair tarot symbolized from the reading. And yes, it was used on you."
"You noticed perhaps the priestesses of Aana earlier?" Elasha said, her voice steadying. "It was I who imprisoned them and I who moments ago ordered them released. They seemed quite distraught."
"Of course they were," Isaura answered, her voiced filled with anger. "You defiled Aana's sacred... wait!"
"Oh no, no, no!" Ashe exclaimed, as the implications hit her as well. "They mustn't touch it!"
The two raced to the top of the steps to peer down. What they saw caused Isaura to raise her arm, point her wand and shout "llsaana!"
"Did they activate it?" Isaura turned back to Ashe.
The young Alarian surveyed the scene below - a dozen priestesses, standing statue still, frozen in the act of pushing the red gold box away from the edge of the pool. But the box itself wasn't frozen; even from far above the pool she could hear the whirring sound.
"No! The timer has started and the hour has begun!" Ashe exclaimed to Isaura, her face several shades paler. "We need the key now!"
"What key?" di'Sona asked. She, the Arch Duchess, her troops, Elasha, the other prisoners, and Zinjo, still carrying Blood Burn, had just now caught up. "And what is that box doing by Aana's sacred pool?"
"That box is Theodophilus' puzzle box," Ashe said hurriedly, more to the group than di'Sona. "In it is Professor Breviar's - or Blood Burn as you call him - anti-alkahest, the anti-life serum. If we don't use Krornuik's key to stop the timer, the box will explode, killing all life everywhere."
"Who are you, a woman, to speak thus of the alquimista mysteries?" the Alquimista Ifeus said, his voice tinged with indignation.
"Keep such base opinions to yourself," Vataz added, "and listen to your betters."
"I have no idea who she is," Elasha said, "but every word she spoke is true. Everyone you know will die unless you stop that box from exploding. And I have the key. So let's get back to my demands, shall we?"
"That can't possibly be true!" the Arch Duchess asked di'Sona. "Can it?"
"If the dead zone our agents found in the Qyrc Wilds was caused by what's in that box, then-"
"Oh, no, that's not correct," Blood Burn said, straightening his robes, having finally been released by Zinjo. "That hallowed place you called 'dead zone, was freed of any form of flawed life with but one drop of my anti-alkahest. The Empress was kind enough to provide me with the resources to produce a gallon of the serum that will restore perfection to the Seven Kingdoms. That is what is in Theodophilus' box."
"Hey, Professor Breviar," Ashe, said to the rogue alquimista. "I have a question for you."
"Yes, young woman?" Blood Burn was startled to hear his old title. "What is it?"
"What are you going to do for a face when the baboon takes his butt back?"
"What am I... what?" Blood Burn's mind temporarily stopped its manic fixation on the serum's activation as it tried to make sense of Ashe's insult.
"You fucking idiot!" It was Ashe's turn to have indignation in her voice. "First you pervert the purity of chrysopeia process! Then you devise plagues to inflict on people, the very opposite of everything we alquimistas hold true. Your maggot-infested mind next justifies the creation of a serum to annihilate the world, and finally, you have the gall to desecrate Aana's sacred pool with it!"
"Ashe, please," Isaura said gently. "This isn't helping."
"No! Someone needs to say it, Isaura!" Ashe said, "I hope Aana sends him to the Hell of the Slicing Scissors to cut off the fingers that created his serum, and then next to the Hell of the Tongue Ripping to-"
"-I like the way you think, girl," Elasha interrupted, and the admiration in her voice was sincere. "Yet you are wrong about one thing. It was I who placed the box beside Aana's Pool, and not this insane alquimista. How could he? He's a man."
"But why?" Isaura asked. "Our clan has guarded the sacred pool for millennia. Surely you can feel her anger, her wrath."
"Of course I can! I feast on it! She is powerless. She! A goddess!"
Elasha began pacing about, savoring her big reveal.
'In a way,' Elasha thought, 'winning this way, without my magic, is better, more dramatic.'
"I locked her priestesses away to keep them from causing mischief. I barred any from coming near, and kept the key with me. Only the dreary alquimista might have had a chance of opening it anyway, and if they set foot near the pool, pffffft. Aana herself strikes them down. But if she strikes the box, or moves it, the box explodes, and life, everything she holds dear ...gone."
As Elasha turned to face them she threw back her head.
"The goddess bows before me! And you shall too, or die in less than an hour. Your choice."
"Zis iz insurance I was telling you of, leetle one," Zinjo said, "Though iz stupid insurance, since she die also."
"Is what she said true?" the Arch Duchess asked di'Sona, "any of it?"
"All of it, I' fear" di'Sona said. "Now will you agree to the use of the Torc? We must have that key!"
"Yes, use it! Do all you must to get it!"
"Hold! If you do that, you will never have it in time," Elasha said. "I know not where it is. I gave it to Blood Burn to devise its safekeeping as the battle turned against us."
"That's easy enough to solve," di'Sona said, "we'll use it on-"
"-it won't work on him," Elasha said, "with the geases I've laid on him the Torc will instantly rip his mind asunder."
"Have no fear, my Empress," Blood Burn said with a bow, "I can never be made to show where the key to Theodophilus' box. It is perfectly safe."
"And so you see you must deal with me to..." Elasha stopped; something in the rogue alquimista's answer troubled her. "What do you mean by ‘perfectly safe’?"
"Every hiding place was flawed, for I could be forced to reveal its location. So..." Blood Burn paused, to smile, "I destroyed it with acid."
"You WHAT????" Elasha screamed. "We will all be killed!"
"And perfection will come to the Seven Kingdoms at last.”
"We shall attempt it," Ifeus said. He motioned to Vataz and the other alquimistas. "Together we shall open Theodophilus' box and secure the serum."
"Wait!" Isaura called to the group as they made their way to the stairs leading from Aana's temple to the pool below. "Stop, mortal!! You will be struck down if you put but one foot on a step on Her hallowed ground."
"We haven't time for your superstitions, woman," the alquimista answered as he stepped down the first stone stair. "For we-"
Whatever words Ifeus intended will never be known, for a lightning bolt fell from the heavens and struck him. After it did, only a blackened smoking flesh stump remained. The remaining alquimistas backed up several feet, wailing, and looking to the heavens in fear.
"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!" Ashe exclaimed, her face several shades whiter now. It didn't help that Elasha burst into laughter. Or that the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. "She just ...just ...just ...fried him!"
Isaura ignored the chaos erupting around them; she grabbed Ashe's shoulders hard and made the girl look into her eyes.
"Ashe! I know that was horrific but we don't have time for you to fall apart. Now we finally know why you were transformed," she said.
"W-we do?"
"Yes! Focus! Can't you see? It wasn't Ymra, but Aana who did it, so that you can open that box! Everything depends on you. Are you with me?"
Ashe wrenched her eyes away from the charred flesh stump, and willed her stomach to stop roiling. She turned to gaze down the temple steps at the scene below. The impossibly perfect pool, the still priestesses, frozen in mid-wail, and the red gold box. It stood, holding the essence of anti-life within, whirring softly, counting the minutes to release its death on the world.
Ashe's mind began whirring into action.
"You," Ashe said, whipping around to address Vataz the Alquimista, "Have the containment box brought here NOW, and for goddess' sake, be ready!"
"Insolent girl," Vataz said. "Why should I take orders from you?"
"Because if you don't do as I say, you son of a scrotum herder, my friend Zinjo will toss every last one of you creeps into the pool below. Right, Zinjo?"
"Iz most certainly true," Zinjo said, standing to his full height. He moved to tower over the cowering man. "Vould like demonstration?"
"N-no, we will get it," Vataz answered, trying to back away. "Though I predict you will most certainly fail to open Theodophilus' box."
"You can take your predictions and shove ‘em up your ass. Just have the containment box ready!" She turned back to Isaura. "Let's go!"
"That's my girl." Isaura turned to the others gathered behind. "I want no one to accompany us; we have little enough time as it is."
"That's absurd!" di'Sona said. "If you think we will allow your little apprentice to determine whether the rogue's plague is released to destroy the Seven Kingdoms, then you are as insane as Elasha."
"It was not a request," Isaura replied, and then turned to Zinjo. "A little help please?"
Zinjo nodded, popped his neck muscles in a roll of his neck, closed his eyes, and grew. Not only did his muscles, joints and bones make crackling sounds as his frame increased to ten, twenty, forty feet, but the earth groaned under his weight. Within one second a naked one hundred foot giant towered over the Alarians gathered at the steps to the pool. His voice boomed:
"COME. NO. FURTHER!"
The Arch Duchess held her hand high to get her troops attention.
And then did the one act which was wholly out of character for an Alarian leader - she did the sensible thing.
"Stand down. We will let Isaura Faeyra and her apprentice attempt to disarm the thing."
"Her name is Ashera," Isaura called back already racing down the steps with the girl. "You would do well to remember it."
***
"Well?" Isaura asked, after circling the box for a third time. "We've already wasted so much time. Where does it begin?"
"Here I think," Ashe said, running her hand over the face of the box which stood away from the water's edge.
"But there is nothing there! No keyhole or anything which might unlock it!"
Ashe didn't answer, instead popping open the alquimista kit at her side. She first plucked a vial full of powder from the box, and then a horsehair brush. Gingerly she dabbed the brush in the bottle, and then dusted the face of the box in its upper center.
Etched words appeared under her brush, and below the words a small hole became visible:
I am free for the taking through all of your life,
Though given but once at birth.
I am less than nothing in weight,
But will fell the strongest of you if held.
"What the hells does THAT mean?" Isaura asked.
Ashe didn't answer, but instead pulled a hollow straw from her kit. She placed it into the small hole and blew---
Whirring noises activated, and a large front panel swung open.
"Breath," Ashe said, replacing her items into her kit. "The answer is breath."
"I'll just... stay out of it, love," Isaura said. "You're doing fine."
Ashe looked into the panel to see the next puzzle test and saw a scale. Immediately below it was written:
'What goes in the water red and comes out black?'
"And what the hells..." Isaura stopped herself mid-sentence, and gave a little admonishing headshake. "Shutting up now."
Ashe barely heard her, her fingers were flying around inside her kit until they rested on an ingot. She pulled it out and placed it the scale. It bobbed once and then the whirring noise began again, with another panel opening; revealing a deeper chamber.
"Ohhhhh, iron!" Isaura said, as understanding dawned. "But, how did the scale know it was iron?"
"It's calibrated to the density of the metal," Ashe said, replacing the ingot back in the kit. She paused a moment. "You know, if we actually live to see her again, we'll need to thank Piproos for packing such a complete alquimista kit. Even the iron ingot she included was exactly the standard size."
Isaura nodded, but wondered then, how much of it was due to her little servant's diligence and how much was the goddess' hand at work. When she looked up, Ashe had already moved on the next puzzle.
And so it went, Isaura watched as the girl worked her way through each test, slowly working her way to the box's center. One test required Ashe to prepare an obscure compound and pour it down a chute. Another was a riddle again this time requiring her to arrange blocks to spell the element answer to the riddle. What was clear from the increasing rapid timing mechanism was that it would be very close.
The unimaginably high stakes coupled with the arcane and obscure tests were taking a toll on Ashe; Isaura saw her stress level rising with each spinning tick of the box. Her mutters became saltier with each tick and Isaura saw sweat forming on her brow. She gave such calming words as she could, but knew ultimately, that this was something Ashe faced alone.
"Oh fuck!"
"What?" Isaura asked. "What's wrong?"
"This. The final challenge."
Ashe stood aside so the sorceress could see the challenge. It was actually entitled 'The Final Challenge.' The first paragraph of it read:
Pushed forward the oxen plowed, plowing a white field, held a white plow, and sowed the wet black seed.'
Below it, a second paragraph:
'It Was A Tradition Long Ago, When The World Was Dark And Full Of Woe When Men Turned Darkness Into Light, By Mixing, Melting And Decanting In The Night, To Seek For Youth And Gold And Riches, Just To Be Burned As Witches.'
Followed by a third:
A house based on a foundation like the skies
A house one has covered with a veil like a secret box
A house set on a base like a goose
One enters it blind
Leaves it seeing.
Finally, below that was a long thin slot. The sorceress heard the fear when Ashe spoke her next words:
"I... have... no... fucking... clue!"
"Don't panic! Take a deep breath." Isaura ran her hand gently through Ashe's hair, moving stray strands out of her face.
"There's no time!" Ashe turned to Isaura. "I think there's not much more than a minute left on the timer! Isaura, I've let you down! I'm so sorry!"
"I will not hear such talk!" Isaura said, after she gave the girl a shake. "Your intent must not be to avoid failure. Shape your intent with heart!"
"Heart? 'kay... okay... the white field could be a... a... female symbol, while the plow a male symbol, and... and... the black seed a reincarnated metallic gold...?"
"And don't overthink it either, leetle one!" Zinjo's voice boomed down from above. "Leetle brains do that."
"Don't over think... riiiight... um... 'plowing a white field' ...paper? The 'white plow' ... a quill? And... and...wet black seed...ink!"
Ashe's hand flew into her kit to grab her paper, quill and an ink bottle.
"What does that mean?" Isaura asked, unable to follow Ashe's thoughts.
"Fucking Theodophilus!" Ashe answered. She quickly unfolded the paper. "He's made the final challenge answer a written one."
"Tradition long ago..." Ashe's eyes danced quickly over the second passage quickly. "...Just To Be Burned As Witches.' That's... alquimistas!"
The box's timer was whirring faster and faster. Isaura raised her wand to cast a containment spell if the box exploded, which she expected at any second.
"Hurry."
"A house based on a foundation like the skies, A house one has covered with a veil like a secret box, A house set on a base like a goose, One enters it blind, Leaves it seeing. That's... that's..." Ashe's mind was racing faster than it had in her life, racing against the timer now. That's a school!!"
"So what's the answer?" Isaura asked.
"It's ...it must be ...the symbol for an alquimista school!"
"It's the Alef symbol then? The 'Hidden Tradition?'" Isaura heard the ignition mechanism clicking in the box attempting to spark. "Hurry! Draw it now!"
Ashe started to do just that, draw the 'N' like symbol, but stopped, her hand quivering. Then with a steady hand, she dipped the quill in the ink, drew a pentacle star surrounded by a circle, and slid the paper into the slot.
Suddenly the clicking and whirring noises ...ceased. After several long moments of eerie silence, the box emitted a large *pop*, as the final chamber opened.
A large jar stood within on a shelf, filled with a green bubbling liquid.
"You did it!!!!!!" Isaura grabbed Ashe and bear hugged her, making the girl oof. "Praise be to Aana! You saved everyone, everywhere!!!! I guess we now know who the Queen of Keys is from the tarot reading."
"W-we do?"
"It's you, silly," Isaura beamed. "You were amazing!"
"Kay, um, peachy, would you please take the serum out, please, before the damn box decides to explode anyway," Ashe whispered. "My hands are shaking."
Isaura nodded, unwrapped her arms from Ashe's body, and reached in to lift the jar. Gingerly, she backed away from the box.
"After all you've been through, I'm so very proud of you!" Isaura said, gazing into the glass jar she held. It mesmerized her, the deadly potential of it, seemingly sparkling with darkness. "Will this glass contain it?"
"I... I don't know. In theory... if it contains no organic matter." Ashe said, looking into the bubbling blackness as well. "Let's not test the theory. We need to get it into a lead containment box fast, and then... then I don't know."
"Agreed. But Ashe, question." When Ashe nodded 'yes' Isaura continued. "Why did you draw a pentacle instead of the Alef?"
"Because in Theodophilus' day, that was the symbol," Ashe answered. "It only was changed to 'Alef' about thirty years ago."
"Oh! But how did the box know what you wrote was the old symbol... the correct symbol?"
"I think that after the paper passes through the slot it lands on a scale," Ashe answered. "And that scale is so finely calibrated that it could weigh the exact amount of ink needed to make the correct symbol. Any amount of ink above or below that ...boom!"
"That's astonishing!" Isaura said.
"Yeah, I suppose," Ashe said. "But I kinda think if Theodophilus sat around thinking up things like this box, then he had waaay too much time on his hands."
Suddenly, with a series of popping and snapping sounds, the puzzle box snapped shut.
"We should move away from it," Ashe said. "I think it just reset and can be triggered again."
"I've got a better idea."
Isaura raised her wand and spoke the words to unfreeze the priestesses. She and Ashe then gathered the confused women and led them away from the pool and box to the bottom stairway leading to the temple.
"But Mistress Isaura," the highest ranking priestess said. "We must remove that thing! This abomination desecrates Aana's hallowed ground! Cannot you feel her displeasure surrounding us?'
"I can and do, Revered Mother. But I rather think now this evil concoction has been removed" - Isaura held up the jar filled with volatile darkness - "the goddess will-"
From the sky, a blinding white bolt of lightning sizzled down, striking the box, obliterating it into smoke and charred rubble.
"-take matters into her own hands," Isaura finished her sentence, casting a reverent smile to the heavens. "You should probably have that mess removed quickly.”
The wide-eyed priestess nodded, and led her fellow priestesses back to the pool to do just that.
***
As the pair reached the final step to the temple, they were met with cheers from the Alarian troops, who banged their swords on their shields, and chanted "woot, woot, woot."
A wail sliced through the cheers, one of bitterness and desperation.
"No! Nooooo!"
Blood Burn ran wildly at the pair, through his guards before they could react to grab him. He neared them, his eyes fixed on the serum Isaura held.
"My serum must be freeeeed!"
Before he could take one more step, a giant hand swatted him, sending high in the air. Blood Burn's flight arc took him down to the pool, where they heard a *kersplash*.
Less than two seconds later, a second energy bolt shot from the sky.
"The one known as Blood Burn is no more," Zinjo's voice boomed over all. "I sent him to Aana for judgement for his crimes. She was most displeased."
"You, Vataz!" Isaura addressed the large group black robed alquimistas. "The containment box, now!"
"Yes, great sorceress, immediately." He and several of his brethren lugged the leaden box to Isaura and opened its door.
Once Ashe heard the *clang* of the door closing to the containment box, she finally -finally - breathed a sigh of relief. She felt even better when Zinjo, reached down and snapped the latch off the door, preventing any from ever opening it again.
"Thank the goddess," Ashe managed to whisper. She was completely, utterly spent. Yet it was a good kind of spent. Yes, she had so many issues ahead of her. Could she be changed back to her old body? Now she knew Aana transformed her, could the goddess be petitioned to change her back? And if not, what would she do?
But at this moment, she didn't worry over those things. Instead, she felt the glow of satisfaction that came from a race well run.
"We did it! We actually did it!" she whispered to Isaura, smiling ear to ear. "If I were to die right now, it would be okay, because, really, who can say they've saved the whole freaking world?"
"Hush, child, don't speak that way," Isaura said. It bothered her to hear that fatalism creeping into Ashe's voice. For she still sensed an impending doom.
"And of course we did it," Isaura smiled, "With the Queen of Keys working the problem, was there ever any doubt?"
"Well," di'Sona said, "Shall we gloat to Elasha?"
"Not at all," the sorceress said dismissively, and turned to the Arch Duchess. "Your Grace, we must find a way to destroy this serum. Or, if that's not possible, a place to store that will be safe. Like in the deepest depth of the ocean, or at the bottom of the darkest mineshaft."
"Yes, I agree completely," Myantha replied.
It was almost as much of a relief to her that the middle Faeyra sister turned out to be sensible, as it was to secure the rogue's serum. Unlike her feelings for the other Faeyra siblings, Myantha herself started liking the sorceress.
"If you won't gloat, then I will," di'Sona said, and turned to face her oldest sister. "You've lost everything. Once Isaura told of your ships full of ransom for the other kingdoms, we mobilized to end your madness. All your pitiful plans laid low. And now here you stand, bereft of your magic, and at my mercy."
"Arrrrrgh! It was you who has opposed me all along!" Elasha screamed, her finger, quivering with rage, pointed at Isaura. "You have been my true enemy. And I swear to Ymra you will pay."
"I will pay?" Isaura rose to her full height and faced Elasha, rage showing in her eyes now too. "You sent Shea to her death! I am - just barely – controlling my temper from blasting you into nothingness.”
"Oh, yes, Shea. I'd forgotten about her." Elasha's voiced calmed, and a smile crept over her face. "I have a gift for you."
From her robes she pulled a deep red velvet bag. Sensing danger, the Alarian soldiers unsheathed their swords.
"Oh please! As my youngest sister has so eloquently pointed out, I am completely helpless and harmless."
Elasha hummed an old Alarian nursery tune as she carefully pulled a pulsing crystal from the sack by a silver chain. She was very careful not to touch the stone.
"That's a Caxenar memory crystal!" Isaura's eyes grew wide. The sorceress was so stunned Elasha held it that she didn't think to cast a simple freeze spell. "Is it..."
"Shea's? Why, yes. Yes it is."
"Give it to me now!"
"Oh I was, sister, I was. Think of it, all her memories, right here,” Elasha smiled, and held it up to peer at it. "I was certain if I gave it to you, you would eventually touch it and be driven mad, as all who touch another's memory stone are. Would you like it? Or should I drop it, letting it shatter on the ground? Beg me, Isaura. beg for it."
"Please... Elasha... it's all I have left of my daughter... please give it to me..."
"You know, I'm not so sure I should." Elasha held the stone higher. "You somehow managed to find a female alquimista. I bet you'd figure out how to retrieve these memories somehow too. No, I think I've changed my mind. I'll give it-"
Elasha flicked the chain sharply and let go, sending the crystal spinning through the air ...at Ashe.
"-to her."
Pure reaction took over, and Ashe's hand shot up to catch it. The instant she did, the pulsing crystal darkened, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumbled to the ground.
"Ashe no!!!!" Isaura rushed to the fallen girl and pulled the stone from her hand. Zinjo - normal sized now - took it from Isaura and crushed it.
"Too late!" Elasha laughed. "You fool! You thought you'd foiled me? I always have one more card to play, Sister. And now I've killed all you hold dear. Hey! I've got an idea! Why don't you bury her next to Shea? They can keep each other company!"
As Elasha's cackling continued, Isaura rose, inventorying all the spells she could cast upon her sister, for all the pain she had inflicted. In the end, she simply punched Elasha as hard as she could, feeling the satisfying crunch of her sister's nose under the blow, and sending her to the ground, unconscious and – thankfully - silenced.
***
"Come, you must rest. I vill watch leetle one."
"No!" Isaura shouted. Then her voice gentled. "No, stay, if you wish, for you give me comfort, old friend, but I will not leave her."
"It's been three days," Zinjo said.
She didn't hear him say 'and her condition hasn't changed,' but the words hung in the air nonetheless.
For three days Ashe had lain in a bed at Beurl'Aana, and the sorceress never left her side.
"But she's not dead," Isaura said, her voice pleading. "She breathes. Her face moves. I've seen it."
The healers admitted they were baffled, for all known instances where someone touched the Caxenar crystal of another, death was instantaneous. But the healers expressed little hope there was anything left of Ashe's mind. The twitches, they reckoned, were involuntary muscle spasms.
"She survived the Torc, and the Cavern of Dearmad. She can survive this too. Maybe her mind, in this regard, is unique?"
Isaura paused, considering what she'd said, and all the other things Ashe had braved, too. Her transformation. Her quest to stop the madman, and to save lives.
"Why, Zinjo? Why did the goddess, after all Ashe went through... no! After all Aana put her through, why did she allow this?"
"I am sure she have her reasons," Zinjo answered softly. “Yes?”
Isaura shrugged; she wasn't in the mood for a theological debate on the vagaries of the gods.
If she was honest with herself - and now, more than ever in her life Isaura was - she'd admit there was more to this than a re-dredging of her grief for Shea. Yes, of course, this brought that other grieving hot to her emotional surface. But more than that, in the brief time since the girl had awakened in the Cavern, she had stolen Isaura's heart.
"Remember when I'd frozen the Caphilian soldiers, and she pulled the trousers down of that odious corporal?"
"Ho, ho, ho, yes! Or when she start to tell me she vasn't hungry and then she almost dove in stewpot!"
"She was so funny reading from the atlas on the way to Caphilia. She thought I wasn't listening, but I heard every word."
"Or vhen leetle one didn't warn me boat was flying..."
"...and you almost fell into the sea... peeing!"
They laughed again at that, remembering how hard Ashe had laughed when it happened over the Serene Sea. They laughed even harder, as they recalled some of the colorful phrases the girl had uttered.
Isaura put her hand on Ashe's cheek, and stroked it.
"She's ...very special, Zinjo, isn't she?"
"I think, if leetle one's body were same size as her heart, she vould be bigger than Zinjo."
And still the coma lay heavy on the girl.
***
On the fourth day of Ashe's coma, the Arch Duchess summoned Isaura to meet with her. Isaura considered ignoring the summons, but decided she should probably step away for a brief meeting with Myantha. After all, she was the ruler of all Alari.
"Yes, your Grace?" Her voice was sad, heavy with weariness.
"No change, I take it?" After the sorceress shook her head, Myantha placed her hand on Isaura's shoulder.
"I'm very sorry. Zinjo has told me of what she went through ...all she went through ... and she is truly remarkable. And on the heels of Shea's death..."
Myantha felt the tremor in Isaura’s body at the mention of her daughter's name. She backed away from Isaura and bowed her head.
"I want to apologize for sending Shea into harm's way, to ...to her death, really. Had I known of the dangers I would not have sent her."
"Thank you," Isaura answered, struggling to say more. She was torn, wanting to scream 'How could you have done it?!' but also, she now knew Aana's hand was behind so much of what happened. That Shea and Aesh would meet, that di'Sona would turn over the new 'Ashe' to her. Taking a deep breath, Isaura gave a different answer than what first sprang to mind:
"I am honored you chose Shea for the mission, Arch Duchess. My sister said you chose Shea because of the gravity of the mission - that you needed your best agent."
Myantha blinked several time, trying to pick her next words carefully.
"Don't get me wrong, Isaura, I recognized the potential in your daughter, and knew one day she would be our best agent, but she wasn't yet that."
"I don't understand," Isaura said. "di'Sona told me-"
"-What she told me," Myantha interrupted, "was that the mission in Caphilia was simple reconnaissance, low danger."
"She lied," Isaura stated dully; was her purpose to give Shea an opportunity to impress? To succeed? Or was this yet another Faeyra scheme to screw another sister? Isaura was too numb to muster any emotion. Finally she managed a weak, "I suppose I should confront her."
"Not soon I hope, for she is not in favor with me at the moment." When Myantha saw question on Isaura's face, she explained. "Against my explicit orders, she used the Torc on Elasha."
"Oh... goddess..." Isaura said, her hand going to her mouth. "So Elasha's is..."
"Barely there," Myantha nodded. "Vacant eyes, dulled speech, mind gone..."
Isaura's mind tuned out the Arch Duchess for a moment, as images of her childhood flashed and faded. Memories of a time, so long ago, when she and her sisters played in an apple orchard, here at Beurl'Aana. She remembered it well - the first day of the month of Seella, Goddess Of Summer. All the trees were in bloom. Glorious hues of pink and white fleeced the trees; clusters of five buds centered around the central blossom, the King Blossom, fluttering everywhere.
So they ran in between the fragrant trees, carefree little girls, she and di'Sona and Elasha, their long-flowing hair covered in pink and white flowers, screaming, laughing and dreaming of the apples to come.
'Where did it all go wrong?'
And so her oldest sister was just ...gone?
'I should feel something, shouldn't I? A twinge of sadness, or regret... something...'
But she didn't. It was all so anticlimactic, and she was so very numb.
'I wonder... am I dead too?'
"...Oh, she answers all questions put to her." Myantha's voice brought Isaura back to the present. "She has given us every detail of her schemes. We should be able to return the ransoms to the other kingdoms, with assurances the guilty parties have been dealt with, and maybe avoid all-out war. But this was not what I wished. I am now persuaded by your argument that the Torc must never be used again."
"Excellent!" Isaura sighed in relief, at that small bit of good news. "It is pure evil."
Isaura admitted to herself that she cared little that her older sister was, essentially, dead now. Instead she thought of the tragedy she barely averted, of Ashe's mind nearly destroyed by the hideous device. Like the serum, it must be destroyed.
'And yet, in the end, her beautiful mind was destroyed anyway,' Isaura thought. She looked back in the direction of Ashe's room and her eyes grew misty. 'Oh Ashe, I failed you! I didn't protect you!'
"I'm sorry," Myantha said, reaching out to Isaura again. "I didn't come here to tell you this. But, just so you know, I have not ordered the Torc to be destroyed, yet."
"But why? You said it yourself - it must never be used again!"
"And it won't," Myantha said. "This I swear to you. But if I order it removed, Elasha will die. It has been so for all who have worn it."
'All save one,' Isaura mentally amended. 'And if Ashe survived that, couldn't she also survive this?"
"And so I've decreed it shall remain on Elasha until she dies," Myantha said. "And as punishment for di'Sona's disobedience, I have further ordered that she must care for Elasha for as long as she lives. There shall be no torture of Elasha either. My edict is explicit, if she is found abusing Elasha in any way, the Torc shall be removed from Elasha and placed on di'Sona instead."
Isaura's eyes widened as she thought through the implications. For all the hatred her sisters had for each other, and all the suffering caused by it, to have one forced to care for the other for the rest of their lives was a form of justice Isaura found to be...
"Perfect. But ...if telling me this wasn't the reason you summoned me, then what is?"
"I want you to take Blood Burn's serum, and destroy it, if possible, and if not, to hide it so none may ever find it."
"No! I won't leave Ashe's side!" Isaura said. "You must find someone else to do it.
"I can trust no one else!" the Arch Duchess said, her voice filled with passion. "Already word is spreading among the clans of a mysterious all-powerful 'weapon' at Beurl'Aana which could be used as leverage against the clans, or even the other kingdoms!"
"That will surely lead to disaster," Isaura said; she was certain it would. In her experience, anything that is designed as a weapon eventually is used as a weapon. "But you must find someone else. I won't leave Ashe's side."
"There IS no one else who could do this! You are the most powerful sorceress I've ever seen. I now know what you are capable of. You could easily remove me and become ruler of Alari if you wanted."
"But I don't want that," Isaura said. "I've never wanted that!"
"I know, that's why I trust you. So you know, I've been talking with the alquimistas, and the more I understand about what Blood Burn created, the more it scares the living daylights out of me! I've dispatched agents to Edefia to gather and destroy the man's notes. But foremost, his serum must be destroyed!"
"I agree completely," Isaura answered. "But I will. not. leave. Ashe. Got it?"
"Is that what Ashe would have wanted?" Myantha responded. Changing tactics, she added, “She chased the rogue alquimista across the world, endured terrible torture at the hands of di'Sona – yes, I am now aware of that crime as well, of all that occurred - and succeeded in preventing the serum from being unleashed. Would you have her death be in vain?"
"She's not dead!"
"No, but, you know what I mean," Myantha said softly.
And Isaura did know, that every healer who'd seen Ashe walked away shaking her head.
"That's not fair," Isaura said, her eyes stricken with new grief. "Putting it like that..."
"I'm not fair!" Myantha answered. "My foremost concern is for the safety of our people."
It was at that moment Isaura realized the Alarians finally, after centuries of despotic rule, had a just ruler.
She also knew what Ashe would tell her if she could speak - the serum must never, ever, ever be used.
'No, her language would be more colorful than that, but that would be the gist if it.'
She gave a long sigh. She was going to have to do this. She really, really didn't want to, but Ashe would have wanted it.
"You must swear to me while I am gone, Ashe will be taken care of-"
"-of course! The best of our healers shall tend to her night and day until you return."
"Also, I'll need The Hope of Aana brought from Hithui Ael to the coast, and-"
"-That's your ship? How am I supposed to transport a ship across land-"
"-never mind," Isaura interrupted the Arch Duchess. "Zinjo and I will arrange it. Meet me with the serum at..."
Isaura pictured the northern Alarian coast, as she tried to land upon a port town that might not draw too much attention.
"...Ayrith, in two days’ time."
"I will have the entire army accompany me to protect it," Myantha said.
"No! That would draw too much attention! Be discreet. Bring your most trusted soldiers only. And definitely not di'Sona."
"No, I agree completely. I am done with her," Myantha said. "Present company excepted, you Faeyra don't have many redeeming qualities."
"We do make excellent villains," Isaura said, mustering a faint smile.
"Then we have a deal?" the Arch Duchess asked.
"Yes, we do. And now, if you will excuse me, your Grace, I must get back to Ashe."
"Of course. If there is anything else you need, anything... er, other than flying ships," Myantha grabbed Isaura's hand, and squeezed it, "just let me know, and it will happen."
"Thank you," Isaura said, emotion welling in her again, making her throat tighten, and eyes mist once more. "But the only thing I need is for - how would Ashe put it? - the only thing I need, is for her to fucking wake up."
***
Two days later
The 1st day of the month of Iqenta, Goddess Of Beginnings
The port city of Ayrith
Isaura might have been immortal, but she was not all-powerful. Days of standing vigil by Ashe had taken their toll, so when her carriage arrived at The Hope of Aana's berth at the Ayrith docks, she was barely able to keep her eyelids up.
Zinjo arranged for her ship's overland portage. How it happened he never told her, but she assumed in the dark of night, he shifted to his larger aspect and simply carried it.
The giant had hired a dozen of the best Alarian boatswains from the town to add finishing touches to the magically built ship, and was eager to show Isaura what they'd done. But the sorceress was beyond weariness, and seeing the changes would depress her more anyway, for she thought of The Hope of Aana as their ship, the three of them.
It would be at least several hours before the Arch Duchess arrived with the serum, so Isaura managed to climb down from the deck to the cabin, and crawl into her bunk, and instantly collapse into a deep dead slumber...
...where she dreamed...
She was surrounded by darkness. Did she feel something swirling and damp around her? Mist? Perhaps fifteen yards in front of her, she saw a man standing. Or rather, she saw his back, for he faced away from her. He was tallish with brown hair, but they were the only details that she could discern.
"I must choose? Two paths? What are they?" Isaura heard the man ask. Did she recognize that voice? Yes, she did!
'It's Aesh! That's the voice I heard from the memory of the fortune teller, and again, with Shea in Imis!'
Isaura tried to call out, but no sound came from her lips.
She heard someone answer his question. Almost heard. Words were spoken, she was sure, but their meaning slipped away from her. The voice sounded like chimes to her.
Isaura squinted to see whom he had spoken to; he seemed to be staring into a white glowing light. Almost she could make out a figure in the brightness. A woman? She wasn't sure.
Suddenly that changed, instead of the light, there were images of a crowded auditorium, filled with cheering men. In the center, a man stood, wearing the robes of an alquimista master, and with his hood down, she could see his features: He was young, no more than twenty, with brown hair and bright engaging eyes. He spoke:
"I am truly humbled by this honor, comrades. Thank you."
'That's his voice again! Aesh's! I swear it is!'
The images changed again. It looked like a study, perhaps, for in the background were rows and rows of bookshelves, filled with tomes. The spaces on the walls of the study that weren't filled with books, but held pictures, frames of certificates and awards.
In front, a man sat at a rich wooden desk, writing something on parchment with a quill. She knew it was Aesh again, but older, for gray streaks filled his hair, and wrinkles lined his face. He wore different robes now, but ones she recognized still, the robes of a headmaster of a university.
Suddenly the images vanished, and Isaura stood once more behind Aesh, who was, once more, looking into a glowing light.
"And the other path?" she heard him say.
But just as different images were starting to form, something shook her body. A different voice cut through her consciousness.
"Isaura, wake! Iz time! Arch Duchess has come and Zinjo does not want to tell her you are snoring."
Isaura shook her head, trying to throw off the heaviness of her sleep.
'Who was Aesh talking to? Was it Aana?'
She felt it clear that one path offered to Aesh was success and fame as an alquimista, truly something he would have enjoyed. A life he so richly deserved and had earned.
'But what was the second path? And which did he choose in the dream?'
The sorceress mouthed a silent curse, chiding herself for her naive and wishful thinking. By all the healers' accounts, Ashe would never recover from her coma.
Isaura propped herself up on her elbows in her bunk and cleared the sleep from her eyes.
"I'm awake, Zinjo," she called. Then she whispered to herself, 'though I wish to the goddess I wasn't.'
***
Once she'd climbed on deck, Isaura saw the royal Alarian carriage just pulling up to the dock. A squad of twelve of the elite guard, the 'Swift Swords', surrounded the carriage.
The carriage door opened, and a high-heeled stocking clad leg stretched out. A guard reached a hand in, and helped the Arch Duchess out. Myantha wore a royal blue chiffon gown, inlaid with white lace. The gown covered her shoulders, but only just, and was held in place by two spaghetti straps. Its front flowed down into a semi-sweetheart neckline, subtly accentuating her breasts.
Isaura walked down the gang plank to greet the Alarian ruler. She couldn’t keep the snide smile off her face.
"I thought I mentioned 'discreet' in my instructions, Myantha."
"This is discreet. Ugh! I hate wearing this finery! I envy you sorcerers. All you ever need is a simple robe," Myantha replied. "I accepted an invitation to Baron Carvalur's Spring Ball this evening at his nearby estate. This is but a slight detour. I thought the ball was the perfect cover.”
"Carvalur? He's an odious toad," Isaura said.
"Tell me about it," the Arch Duchess replied, as she motioned to her guards.
The men quickly unloaded a wooden crate from the top of the carriage.
Isaura didn't bother to ask, for she knew that the lead containment box was within it. So instead, she asked the question that had been trying to burst from her lips the moment the carriage arrived.
"Ashe... is she ...has there been any change?"
"I will give you a full report in just one moment. But I have something else I must discuss with you."
It troubled her that the Arch Duchess delayed answering her question. A sense of dread crept in.
"Yes? What is it?"
"The alquimistas that accompanied us in the battle with Elasha petitioned me to allow one of them to accompany you on your mission."
"You said no, right?" Isaura asked her.
"I did not. It seems to me an alquimista master might be helpful in figuring out if the serum can be destroyed."
"I will not agree to this!" Isaura's blood pressure spiked fast; she couldn't imagine anyone other than Ashe sailing with her in The Hope of Aana. "This is non-negotiable."
A black robed figure stirred in the carriage, stepping out to stand with Myantha. Since the alquimista's head was fully hooded, Isaura didn’t know who it was.
"I say ‘alquimista master’," Myantha continued, "but technically, as the alquimistas took great pains to assure me, this one is not an alquimista master. Nor even an alquimista."
"I... maybe I'm too tired and depressed," Isaura said, "but I don't understand any of this!"
"Me neither, I mean I opened that gods damned box! That makes ME a master."
Isaura's heart fluttered double fast. She knew that voice!
"I saved their asses big time, and you wanna know why they won't? Because I'm a woman!" Ashe whipped her hood off, flashing her mischievous smile. "The rat bastards. Fuck 'em, I’ll start my own club!"
Isaura lunged forward to wrap the girl in a bear hug, making Ashe say 'oof'. They both 'oofed' when first a loud 'Leetle One!' bellowed in the evening air, followed by huge pounding sounds of feet running down the gang plank, and then massive arms wrapped around them and lifted them into the air.
When Zinjo brought the two back to earth, and they finally unclasped their embrace, Myantha cleared her throat.
"She awoke this morning," Myantha said. "We'd actually just left Beurl'Aana to come here; a messenger hailed us with the news. I returned instantly, of course. She insisted on coming with us. The healers pitched a fit about her needing to stay in bed, but Ashe put her foot down, saying she wanted to go home. Well, that was the gist of it; you know, she has quite a mouth on her.”
Ashe simply smiled and blew the Arch Duchess a kiss.
Isaura stopped herself from asking if Ashe meant 'home to Edefia,' for she read in Ashe's expression that was not what her intent. The girl's bright eyes told Isaura that home, meant 'Isaura.' And Isaura saw something different in her eyes too, something so familiar. Isaura had a sudden thought, and turned to Myantha.
"You told me when we met the other day that you would provide me with anything I needed," Isaura said, her voice tight with emotion.
Myantha nodded her head cautiously. That was a dangerous statement to make for any ruler, but she had said it.
"I want you to alter the birth rolls in the Hall of Archives in Imis. I want the rolls to show that Ashera Faeyra is my daughter. My natural daughter."
"That's...it?"
Isaura looked quickly at Ashe for her reaction. The girl's beaming smile was all the confirmation she needed.
"Yes, there is nothing I want more."
"Done." The Arch Duchess motioned to her guard, and they quickly prepared to leave. "And now I must hurry to my rendezvous with the ever so pleasant Baron Cadaver. Er, I mean Carvalur."
"Thank you," Isaura smiled, and wrapped her arm around Ashe's shoulders. "For everything."
"No, thank you, and you Ashe, and Zinjo," Myantha replied. "The world may never know the debt it owes you, but I do."
"Oh, and Isaura? I know you are not moved by royal decrees, so I have a request," Myantha said as she stepped back into her royal carriage. "I know it is not your way, and that you prefer the life of the road. But would you try to visit Alari more often? Please? I crave your guidance ...and company."
Isaura's smile was genuine when she answered her ruler.
"Deal!"
***
After Zinjo loaded the containment box holding Blood Burn's anti-life serum into the cargo hold, they wasted no time in drawing anchor, raising the sails and sailing away from the lush Alarian coast.
Isaura said little for the first hour they were underway. Between the misty spray of the waves off the bow of The Hope of Aana, the soft red glow of the setting sun, the laughter of Zinjo, and Ashe at the terrible jokes she told to them, everything took on a dreamlike aura.
She didn't want to break the mood either, for part of her worried - the still wounded part - that it was a dream and that when she awoke, Ashe would be gone. She didn't think she could survive that, for the girl was suddenly so much more...
'But why?'
Yet she knew she must break it because they needed a destination. Isaura turned from the helm wheel to the two standing beside her.
"So, where to? Can the serum be destroyed by fire? The Obsidian Peaks are not too many leagues from here, and there are active volcanos in them."
"No!" Ashe answered. "That would be the worst thing we could do. According to his notes, Professor Breviar designed the serum to be exceptionally reactive to flame."
Her answer triggered another thought to Isaura.
"Were his notes widely distributed at Edefia?"
"Actually, no," Ashe said. "After I briefed the masters on them and when they understood the horrors they held, the headmaster ordered them locked away. No one was permitted to read them."
"Good, excellent!" Isaura said with relief. "Myantha dispatched spies to steal the notes and destroy them. Soon the mad professor's notes on how to create the serum will only exist in the beautiful brain of yours."
"Iz all part of leetle one's evil plans," Zinjo said, laughing.
"Buhahaha! Yesssss," Ashe said. "The world shall be mine!"
"You know, your brain is pretty amazing. It survived the Torc, which no one has ever done, it survived my little experiment in the Cavern of Dearmad, and now it’s survived touching the Caxenar memory crystal of another. Again, something no one has ever done!"
"Yes," Ashe said, "my brain is fucking awesome."
"Iz true, it iz your second best trait," Zinjo said, smiling, "humility being your number one."
"Agreed," Ashe giggled. "My humility is super fabulous."
"Ashe, I... I have to ask." The sudden seriousness in Isaura's voice changed the mood. "What, um ...did Shea's... the crystal and memories… I mean, what, uh, did it..."
"Do to me?" Ashe decided to rescue Isaura from her floundering.
"Yes."
Ashe gently pulled Isaura's hands from the helm, taking them in her own. She looked up into Isaura's eyes.
"Do you remember the time we went to that spooky place when I was six?" Ashe said. "We were in some goddess forsaken part of Keoba..."
"Y-you mean the ruins of the Temple of Ender? I took Shea there, yes,"
"It was called something Crypts, Grim, Grime-
"Grimwood Crypts," Isaura confirmed with a whisper.
"That's it... and you were searching for one particular crypt, a wizard's, Crevius I think, because the legend was that he was buried with a magical item, a... fleece."
"The Soul Fleece," Isaura said, mesmerized, now.
"And we ran into this whacky paladin who tried to convert us to follow his god. Since he was immune to glamours, to make him leave us alone, you convinced him I had lunatic goat disease, by putting fizzy powder in my mouth to make it foam and..."
"-So, you have her memories," Isaura interrupted. She was becoming uncomfortable with the way Ashe recalled them as her own.
"No," Ashe said. "These are my memories. Mine!"
"But sweetie, they couldn't be yours-"
Isaura stopped mid-sentence when she saw the tears form in the girl's eyes. She gently wiped one away.
"What's wrong, love?"
"My worst memory, every bit as bad as bad as when my family died, is the day we parted... my last words to you..."
"Ashe don't..."
"I said... I wished you'd never been my mother..."
"No, Ashe..."
"But I didn't mean it! I was lashing out, angry you were treating me like a child..."
"But you are a child... but... I... I should have listened to you, instead of..." Isaura pulled away, suddenly. "But Shea is dead! Answer me this: are you Shea?"
"Isaura... I can't say I'm Shea," Ashe answered slowly. "But mother, I can't say I'm not."
Isaura's eyes turned blurry now with tears too, as she desperately struggled to make sense of this.
"Explain this to me now!" Isaura demanded. "Are you saying Ashe is dead? And you have come back?"
"Not at all. I was given a choice. Two paths," Ashe said. "With the first path, all that was done to me would have been undone, and I would become Aesh again. I would return to Edefia, receive a hero's welcome. And go on to become one of the most famous alquimistas in history."
"My dream," Isaura gasped.
Ashe took Isaura's hands in her own again. "I didn't choose that path."
She almost she grasped what the girl was saying. Almost. She turned to Zinjo. "Do you understand?"
"Iz simple," Zinjo shrugged.
"Enlighten me, oh wise one."
Zinjo clasped his arms behind his back, a huge smile on his face.
"What?" Isaura asked.
"I have waited so many years for you to beg me to give - what you call it? - big reveal. Let Zinjo savor this."
"Out with it," Isaura growled.
"Ha! Patience, witch woman. Very well. Exhibit A, in memory cavern, when we look at Aesh's memory of Shea's death, did not you feel energy enter Aesh, when Shea died? A special kind?"
"Yes." She remembered that. It felt like soul energy. "But that doesn't mean that Shea's-"
"-Shush! This my moment!" Zinjo said. "Exhibit B, goddess could have made Aesh look like any girl. Instead she change her to look so much like-"
"Shea! Okay, yes, that IS true, I grant you, but-"
"You see what I must suffer, leetle one?"
"Mmhm, she can dish it, but can't take it," Ashe said, giggling again.
"You hush," the sorceress ordered. "And you continue."
"Exhibit C. The last tarot card of Aliana Crow's reading was..."
"The Apple Tree of Healing," Isaura said.
"Correct!" Zinjo said. "So I ask witch woman, what has been healed?"(
“That's obvious,” Isaura answered. “The land from the devastation of the serum... but no, that didn't happen, we prevented that. Ashe's mind? That sort of seems right, but not quite. ...I give up, oh wise giant. What?"
"Zinjo has known some gods in his time, and never met one who did something for one puny reason. Da, Aana change Aesh to open puzzle box. Yet I tink she also change Aesh to heal the love between mother and daughter. No, Shea has not come back, but your daughter has. Bah! I tell you nothing you don't already know. After all, you named her."
"I... why does that prove anything?" Isaura recalled how she struggled for hours over that naming, wondering why she'd chosen it. "I picked the name for simplicity, because 'Ashe', sounded so much like 'Aesh.' Look, if you move the 'e' in Aesh to the end, you have 'Ashe'. See? No mysterious goddess purpose."
"And," Zinjo added, "if you move the 'a' in Ashe to the end, you have..."
"Shea!" Oh goddess, why hadn't she seen that?
"For days you've been thinking of her as your daughter subconsciously, calling her Ashera Faeyra, even just an hour ago asking the Arch Duchess to officially name her so."
Not Shea, not Aesh, but together something greater. Ashe. The sorceress looked into the girl's eyes again.
"But why? Why would you choose this over the other path?"
She could have said many things: that she loved traveling with them, the adventure of it. That she craved to learn from the sorceress, to devour the knowledge the Queen of Wands could pass to her. That with their magic and wealth, they could help so many people in need around the world, that they could make a difference, which is what both Aesh and Shea always wanted.
And wanted still.
Yes, she could have said all those reasons because they were true. But Ashe knew real truth, felt it deep in her bones. Only, suddenly her throat grew dry and her eyes grew wet as she tried to tell her truth.
"You see... you must see... my home... my heart... is here with you. And together I want us to make such memories! Beautiful ones, sad ones, joyous and tearful ones... so so many..."
Her voice trailed off softly as her eyes swept from Isaura to Zinjo and back again. Isaura found her voice had deserted her too, managing only a mama bear growl as her arms wrapped themselves fiercely around the girl.
Zinjo's voice hadn't deserted him; he let out booming yell of “IZ GOOOOD” so giant, that it may have echoed halfway across the sea.
***
Some minutes later, Isaura turned to her companions, with a grave expression. “I need you two to stop smiling for a moment. We have an important decision to make.”
Zinjo looked at the sorceress quizzically, but Ashe’s face lit after a moment.
“The how and where problem – how to safely be rid of Breviar’s” Ashe spat after saying the name, “serum and where.”
“Mmhm,” Isaura said, “though Alarian spies will try to remove the memories of those in Edefia who read Breviar’s notes, this secret is too big for us to assume the world will forget about this abomination.”
Isaura picked her atlas from the deck floor and thumbed through it until she came to a map of the Seven Kingdoms.
“I believe you said fire was a no no, so the volcanoes of the Obsidian Peaks are out."
“Absolutely,” Ashe answered.
“And I vould recommend ve not leave at bottom of deepest mine shaft,” Zinjo said, stroking his beard. “Gem grubbing dwarves would find it faster than, as we use to zay in my home country of Vostyae, shapit tek ij drok kor hells ar Ymra na naj-ri'uk hon hels.”
“Er, what?” Ashe said, thoroughly perplexed.
“Hmmm, my Vostyae is a little sketchy, since it’s been a dead language for over a thousand years,” Isaura said, “but I think our giant said, roughly, ‘faster than a demon from hells with Ymra snapping at his heels.”
“Iz what I said,” Zinjo shrugged.
“I agree, the mine shaft idea is too risky,” Isaura said. “So… deepest spot in the ocean it is. Which, if memory serves me, would be off the coast of-”
“-If I may,” Ashe interrupted, pointing on the map to a spot off the southeast tip of the Keoba Dynasty, near the town of Kudarala. “I recommend here. It’s hundreds of feet deep according to the atlas and should be a good place for the serum to rest until it becomes inert through decay.”
“Well, yes, that’s true,” said Isaura, “But the deepest depth is found in the Aramoor Trench, west of the Qyrc Wilds.”
“But that’s the point!” Ashe said. “Whoever comes looking for the serum, I bet they’ll never think to look in the second deepest spot in the sea, only the deepest.”
‘Hmmm, I like your thinking,” Isaura said, and then paused. “The nearest town is Kudarala, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Ashe said, and flashed the slightest of mischievous grins.
Which Isaura caught and then grinned back.
“I agree, then. We sail to the Keoban coast.
“One second if please,” Zinjo said, his great bushy brows furrowing. “Vhat did those looks mean? Vat I miss?”
“Wellllll… it seems our little Ashe pays attention, and recalled that, according to my atlas, the best bizzo in the Seven Kingdoms is served in Kudarala.”
“Oh, is it?” Ashe answered, feigning innocence. “What a coincidence! Mmmmm bizzo, hot n’ cheezy...”
“Wait, wait,” Zinjo said, his massive jaw threatening to drop all the way to the deck floor. “You mean to say you base hiding spot of serum that could destroy all everything on closeness to bizzo place?”
A look that said ‘that has to be the dumbest question ever asked’ passed between the women, and they answered in unison:
“YES!”
Zinjo’s laughter started low, but grew louder and louder with each ‘HO HO HO’. This time the echos traveled even to the farthest shores of the Serene Sea.
Isaura leaned over and kissed the top of Ashe’s head, before pointing at the orange moon rising to starboard. Ashe wrapped her arm around Isuara’s waist and smiled as she looked - another memory made.
And with a brisk wind filling its sails, the Hope of Aana sailed into the night.
End.
Moon Harper
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Taxonomy upgrade extras:
 |
Moon Harper by Armond |
Moon Harper - Pt 1
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
Moon Harper - Part 1
by Armond
Was it chance that brought Sean to Tamsin Caroline's fabulous New England rental house, just in time for the height of the fall folliage? Luck that granted him this space to jam one last time on his harp before he embraced his role as a corporate drone? Or was it his heritage that reached up and grabbed him by his ...harp strings... to force him down a more intersting path?
I. October 22 - Friday afternoon.
Looking back, it’s easier to wonder what if? 20-20 hindsight and all that, hey?
If I had taken the old highway instead of the toll road, or ordered a latte at Starbucks, and not the brew of the day. Or any of a thousand other infinitesimally small decisions, which if picked differently, would have delayed me from arriving when I did. And someone else might have rented it.
But I chose as I chose, and arrived in time to be the first to view the rental house.
I couldn't believe my luck, with an obscenely low weekly rental rate, and ad descriptions like classic New England farmhouse ...idyllic coastal setting ...secluded ...peaceful.
I so needed peaceful.
We'd planned a week at Sandals in Negril, but Sarah threw a curve ball last week and announced we were on 'a breather.'
A breather? Can you do that if you’re engaged? I'd never been so angry, and said things I already regretted.
No way was I going to Jamaica alone -pathetic!- so I voted for fall foliage, excellent seafood - I know, cliché city, right?- and solitude.
In my mind, I'd built this as Youth's Last Hurrah. I'd worked my way up the corporate ladder and with the economy picking up -and multiple mergers on my company's radar- my job would swallow me whole for years to come.
So I brought my harp along.
Harp? Hey? Non Sequitur?
I confess, I play a mean folk harp, and once upon a time, I toyed with the idea making a living at it. My mam hoped I would follow this ‘noble calling’ (her words).
I didn't. A wandering minstrel’s paycheck is not a thing to behold these days. After mother passed away, I walked the more traveled ...erm ...corporate path.
And felt I'd sold my soul.
So, crazy as it sounds, this sans Sarah week, in this setting, is my chance to buy a little of myself back.
Also, since I'm not a big drinker, I knew no better way to wallow in self pity than strumming a few Celtic ballads. You know, the kind where one of the young lovers croaks tragically, the other pines fatally away from a broken heart, and rose bushes from their graves spring up and join together? Where was the gardener when these things happened?
After I plucked just one verse of Loch Lomond, I'd be weepin' and wailin' Sarah's name. Sick, hey?
The drive to the Caroline property was spectacular...
The rental? Way better than advertized! The place was magical! It turned out to be an old converted barn (I know, cliché again, yeah?) but what they'd done was awesome! Hardwood floors, massive stone fireplace, gigantic four post goose down bed, and a panoramic window that showed the nearby forest in all its orange/gold/red glory.
Naturally, I rented it on the spot from the nice lady and her morose teenage daughter.
I'm miserable at guessing ages, but my best bet was the mother was in her late thirties. With rich black hair, ice blue eyes, and trim figure, Tamsin Caroline would still turn a few heads.
“There's plenty of nearby walking paths, passable fishing in nearby lakes, I'm told, and lovely antique shops in town. If you fancy, a golf course sits down the road. Are you a golfer, Mr. Derhill?”
I shook my head with gusto.
“I enjoy clobbering things, so whacking the ball is nooo problem. Getting it to go where I want? Another proposition entirely.”
Tamsin gave the appropriate chuckle, and continued describing nearby attractions. She was the quintessential New England host; even speaking with the accent of the region, replacing the 'r's at the end of her words with 'aahs'. In fact, she seemed too forced, right down to her cheery smile.
“I can't believe anyone under the age of eighty would come here voluntarily.”
Her daughter, however, was another matter.
“Darcy! How rude! Tell Mr.Derhill you're sorry!”
The sullen look flashing from Darcy's blue eyes told me an apology would be coming when Hell froze over. Again, since I'm so horrible at age guessing, I wasn't sure how old she was. Old enough to think her pretty, but young enough to feel guilty about thinking it, so 16? 17? Her hair was as silky black as her mother's but she wore it in a severe single braid that hung down her back. She had a young Zoey Daschanel thing going too, if Zoey had radiated brooding disgust at that age.
Neither Caroline women were tall, but Darcy stood a good two inches shorter than her mom. That probably pissed her off too.
Since she wore black jeans, a black tee shirt and black jack boots, I figured she was going for some kind of Goth statement. From her dour expression, I expected her to blurt 'polite people get squished first in this cutthroat world'. Which would have led to another awkward moment.
“No apology needed,” I said, as I opened the back door to my Volvo wagon. I wanted to get my harp out before it got too hot in the car and warped.
I loved my harp, or harps I should say; I have three. A cherrywood 34 string Triplett Celtic, a small travel harp, and -my baby- an ancient Brian Boru style wire strung harp.
Mother gave it to me when I was a wee one. I don’t know where she got it, there are no markings or anything to show who built it, but oh man can she sing! Brilliant bell tones that go on forever .
She even has a name. And sometimes, she speaks to me, I swear it. Honest to God, I think Sarah is jealous of her.
When I looked back at Tamsin, I couldn’t decipher her expression, but I think she suddenly saw me as someone.
“That’s …some harp you have there. We'd love to hear you play, if you're willing,” Tamsin said. Darcy rolled her eyes. Clearly the ‘we’ didn’t include her.
Folk harp players love an audience almost as much as we love playing our harps. So, of course, a fat stupid grin crossed my face.
“Love to. Maybe tomorrow or Sunday night?”
“Sunday evening it is,” Tamsin said. Then her face darkened. “But tomorrow night ...there's one rule I must tell you about. Tomorrow night, a group of women -close family and friends- will gather in the grove over there...”
Tamsin pointed across her property to a magnificent stand of oaks, dripping in autumn gold.
“...it's an initiation for Darcy. And we'd appreciate it if you gave us privacy. Do you mind?”
Heh. My first image? Witches dancing naked under the moon. But that's my dirty mind in overdrive. More likely a bird watching group or some such.
“No worries. I'll hunker down with my harp, so my normal horrific playing improves to mere mediocrity.”
II. October 23 — Saturday twilight
Spectacular day! Frost sparkling in the morning sun, crisp fall air. I started the day off right with breakfast —ya know, the most important meal of the day- at a place called Pellum's Corner. In honor of the farmhouse I was bunking in (though I wasn't sure what, -if any- - farming Tamsin Caroline did; no cows, chickens or crops, as far as I could tell), I ordered the 'Farmer's Breakfast': Two eggs, bacon, hash browns, Boston baked beans and -of course- pancakes with pure Maine maple syrup. Yum.
Next, I took a hike along a breach trail, wandering through a landscape -and sometimes seascape- of sand dunes, rocky outcrops and salt marshes.
Last - hunting. Antique hunting, and New England offered the richest prizes. Mother loved antique stores -Father vanished from our lives when I was two, so I don't know if he also suffered this affliction- and so antiquing was our mother - son thing. I think I mentioned earlier it was Ma who got me harping, finding my baby God knows where and giving her to me when I was old enough to toddle.
To this day, whether I'm antiquing or strumming, I feel her near me. I miss her; she died after I left for college, and whenever I go antiquing, I pretend she's just there, in another part of the store, discovering some ancient, magical and useless artifact.
In my travels today, I journeyed down twisty old winding roads, stopping at mom and pop shops that sold everything you could dream of: home made cheeses, lip smacking sugar maples, and crisp white wines.
So yeah, fantastic day. Lacking one thing: Sarah.
I mooned for her, and by the time I stumbled back to the farmhouse, I was primed to yowl away on sappy love songs. Dusk came, and with it, car lights. I peered out my window, to see a dozen women -in robes- exit their cars to head to Tamsin's grove.
Robes? Maybe my witches guess had been right, hey? Not my business; I closed the shutters to give them privacy.
Still, after an hour, I peeked out, and saw strange glowing light balls circling in the grove. Wasn't sure what could make that light exactly -blue-green pulsing and glowing- but God it looked cool. They reminded me of the ‘fairy lights’ Mother would make to amuse me on summer nights.
Something about their 'grove doings' super amped my playing. ‘Magic was in the air, as Mam used to say, inspiring me to pull pieces from my song bag I rarely do — tunes of a pagan bent. I played Gartan Mother's Lullaby, Down in Yon Forest, and even the Christmas Carol, the Holly and the Ivy -hey! Since Walmart spring-loaded Christmas decorations to launch into stores the nanosecond Halloween ended, I figured it wasn't too early. Actually, it’s a personal rule of mine that it is never too early to play Christmas carols.
I'd never felt my music this deeply; or so close to my harp. My body thrummed with each string plucked.
Then, things went bad.
Don't know how to describe it, other than the air grew thick and heavy dark, making panic roil my stomach.
Someone’s in trouble!
Out of nowhere, I started strumming an old Catholic hymn called Deus Meus Adiuva Me, or God help me.
It's an uber cool number for a couple of reasons: one, it is macaronic, which is a fancy pants way of saying it has two languages. In this case, Deus Meus is in Latin and Gaelic.
Two, and more important, it's a rare church song that honors God in the masculine and the feminine. In the official Catholic version, one of the stanzas reads:
Domine da quod peto a te,
Tabhair dom go dian a ghrian ghlan ghlé,
Tabhair dom go dian a ghrian ghlan ghlé,
Domine da quod peto a te.
which means:
Lord, give what I ask of thee
give, give speedily, O bright and gleaming sun
give, give speedily, O bright and gleaming sun
Lord, give what I ask of thee.
But those crafty old Irish monks, when they scribed the song, they wrote Domina in the margins instead of Domine, or Lady, give what I ask of thee.
Don't know why, but I kept singing the verse over and over. Stranger still, I felt -felt- light flowing out.
Can’t tell how long I played, but when I finished, I swear the air had brightened. Fatigue hammered me; I crawled into bed fully dressed, and was asleep the second my head hit the pillow.
A knock at my door woke me. I opened it, to find Tamsin, looking as haggard as I felt. The oddest look hung from her face, of …guilt …battling hope …for supremacy? Hey, no one ever mistook me for a 'sensitive male', so this was my best stab at it.
“Mr. Derhill, would you come with me? We …need your help.”
I yawned. “You have heavy lifting or something?”
She showed the saddest smile. “Yes, some very heavy lifting.”
I followed her into the predawn light. The first thing I noticed was all the visitor cars still here. Second, she led me to her 'forbidden grove.'
“You’re sure this is all right?”
“Things are as far from ‘all right’ as they can be.”
It was then I noticed tear streaks on her cheeks. Again, sensitivity and me are pretty much strangers.
“Ms. Caroline? What's wrong?”
“I'll explain in a minute. For now, know we need your help with a matter of life or death.” She stopped and looked me in the eye. “No, of life or oblivion. This is why we’ve …drafted you. We would never do …what we will do …lightly.”
Mysterious much? Since she trudged on, I guessed that was all I'd be getting from her. Fine. Maybe if I helped I’d get a discount on my rent?
I wasn't sure how to take what awaited: twelve blue robed women of varying ages formed a ring around a stone alter. Not the scary 'sacrifice a virgin' kind, but a dais covered in candles and red roses. Darcy lay on a bed of golden leaves before it, and looked asleep. The energy of the group —of gloom and fear- washed over me; I swallowed hard.
“Is she hurt? Should we call an ambulance?”
I started to go to her side, but something weird happened; I bounced off an invisible wall. Like a mime wall, only real.
“Wait,” Tamsin said, pulling an engraved silver knife from her robe. I remember Mam had one of those, too; she called it an Athamé
Tamsin muttered strange words, and cut a door sized hole in the air.
“Walk through here,” she said, and I did, meeting no resistance. Double weird.
I knelt next to Darcy and held her wrist. A faint but steady pulse, thank God.
“I’ll drive her to a hospital if you tell me where one is,” I said, and looked up. I didn't speak another word, because Tamsin stood over me, muttering more foreign words. In her hand she held a long ebony stick. And then...
I couldn't move. Couldn’t twitch. Couldn't blink.
“Understand, Mr. Derhill, we had no choice. Darcy's initiation was a calamity. She's been corrupted by Fomorian dark magicks, which are anathema to Danu. When the initiation ritual was invoked, Danu's essence repelled Darcy’s tainted soul so powerfully, it almost threw her from the wheel of life. Even now, her soul tethers to her body by the thinnest of threads.
Fomorians? Mother used to tell me chilling stories about those folks. She acted like they were true. Think Sean, what’s it mean?
“That Darcy yet lives we have you to thank, for as the two magicks strove in her, your energy flowed to us, and we held her in her body. Just.
Now we ask more of you. Her body and soul are tainted. She cannot live if this remains so. If we separate them —body from soul- and purify the taint from each...”
Separate body from soul? What help did they needed from me!? ‘Lose your life’ fear slammed me now.
“You're wondering, 'why me?' Tamsin said, supplying voice to the question I couldn’t speak. “Necessity decided for us. We needed one with the Talent for what we must do, and you have it in spades. We also need all twelve priestesses to complete the transfer. So by default…”
Transfer? Transfer what?!
Didn't have time to reason it out, for Tamsin rejoined the other women and linked hands. When they started chanting, a cyclone twisting filled my mind.
I wasn't there anymore, instead I was
...falling
...falling
...falling
III. October 25. Monday Morning.
The sound of a car screaming woke me.
Not just any car, mine. A belt needed replacing, and until I did, my engine death-screeched until it warmed up. That's what assaulted my ears; someone starting my car, and …it wasn't me.
Or …was it?
I was sooo groggy. Like Rip Van Winkle, I felt I'd slept for decades and my mind swam through molasses. I fumbled open the window shade, and the moment I did, light blasted my eyes shut. Squinting, I could make out the barn in the background...
The barn? Hey? What's it doing over there?
...and my car and…
...me????
...in the foreground.
Either I was tripping, or my doppelganger sat in the front seat.
“Hey!”
My mouth spoke the word, but what came out was a squawk.
When ‘twin me’ revved the car and put it into gear, I sprang from bed and ...fell flat on my face.
What’s wrong with me? Everything was off. Wake Up, Sean!
I gathered myself up, and …stared my pink nightgown?
Something scratchy rubbed one of my ankles. Lifting it, I spied a rope tied to a dainty ankle.
What the...?
And …my ankle wasn't the only part of my anatomy now delicate.
I looked down at my chest ...my legs...
“HEYYY!! I've got a ...I'm a...”
“Morning, sunshine. I didn't think you’d ever wake up. You slept through a whole day,” Tamsin said, as if this was normal.
“What have you DONE to me?”
“We switched you and Darcy, Sean. Sean is your first name, right? It wouldn't seem right to call you Mr. Derhill.”
“Wait, what? Switched? No!” Breathing became a struggle.
“Calm down. You're hyperventilating.”
I didn't recall seeing this particular horror film, but it was sure to end bad for me. I had to escape asap. I bolted for the door, but was yanked back by the rope.
“Someone, HEEELLLP!”
“Stop, Sean! You'll injure yourself.” Tamsin came running to me, arms wide.
“Get AWAY!” I yanked hard on the rope, but it held fast. I lost it then, went berserk, started throwing anything I could get my hands on. Tamsin slapped her hand to my forehead, spoke strange words, and I...
...woke up.
Again.
I was back in bed? This time, ropes bound my arms and legs.
“Round 2, Sean.” Tamsin sat beside the bed. “If you’ll stay calm, I will explain.”
I pulled hard at my restraints. “Please please please lemme go! Gimme me back my body! I won't tell anyone, I swear.”
“We will, sweetie, just not right now. My priestess sisters gather here again in two weeks for Samhain; that's when we will return you to your body. I swear by Danu.”
I knew all about Samhain; Mam taught me. Always a big night for her. Time for me to come clean a bit. I did know magic existed, because Mother could work the odd spell or two. What I didn’t know was that magic could do something like this.
“This …can't be happening! …can’t be…”
“And yet, here you are.”
That shut me up.
She was right; here I lay, in a foreign body, a female one, tied to a bed by strange woman. Who worked powerful magic.
I was screwed.
“Why?” I managed.
“Bad Luck? Fate? Being the right person in the wrong place at the right time?”
Tamsin ran a hand through my -now long- hair; I flinched, but then let her. What could I do?
“I'm so sorry, but we had no choice. The alternative was too horrifying to consider; we would have lost Darcy forever.”
Her words in the Grove came back then; I didn't understand, but pieces were fitting together.
“Her initiation. Something went wrong. You said a …poison?”
Tamsin let out a sigh, and her shoulders drooped.
“I knew Darcy was unhappy, but I told myself it was a phase. I was so wrong; it went much deeper. From what her best friend Gwyneth told me, a Fomorian seduced her, we think, and implanted a feydark trigger spell. How could I have been so stupid? They tried to murder my daughter! They may yet succeed!”
Tamsin brought her fists to her eyes as tears traveled down her cheeks. And though she had done this body snatching crime to me, I wanted to reach out to her. I didn't, of course, what with my arms tied to the bed!
Darcy. I was in her body, ergo she was in …mine? Panic rose in me again.
“But she drove away, in my car! How could you let her? She needs to be here this instant so we can swap back.”
Tamsin shook her head. “This is brain surgery tricky, Sean, like unscrambling an egg. She doesn't remember who she was. She can’t. You see, a body and soul poisoning curse comes from darkest Formorian necromancy.”
Fomorians? Mother had a saying about these blokes; now how did it go? I blurted it out when it came to me:
“To fight against Fomorians was all the same to punch a wall by head, to hold an arm in a snake nest or to substitute a face to flame".
“That’s an old Danaan chestnut; where did you hear?” Tamsin cocked an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Back to Darcy …if she carried the memory of the feydark curse to your body, then it too would blacken. So we cast a Lethe spell to wipe her memory.”
“Wipe? As in lose her memories forever?”
How hideous was that? I tried not to imagine it.
Tamsin’s body trembled, and she whispered, “In a way, I have lost my daughter. When she entered you body, she inherited your memories. She thinks she‘s you, and believes she must return to work. One of our sisters followed Darcy to the city to watch over her.”
Darcy thought she was me?
“But I remember who I am. Um, I mean, was. I mean...”
Who was I? What defined identity? Body? Soul? Stop, brain! I soooo did not need an existential crisis now.
“...Anyway, why didn't you wipe my memory too, so I'd think I was Darcy? Don’t get me wrong, it would be the worst thing in the world to lose my life’s memories, but wouldn't that have made everything simpler?”
Tamsin patted my thigh. “Glad to see you thinking this through, dear, it gives me hope you will work with us. We couldn't, you see, if we'd given you access to Darcy's memories, then you would have been exposed to the same Fomor corruption she was; it’s bad enough her —your new- body is tainted.”
Tamsin looked out the window; her voice went whisper soft.
“A close thing. Even with all anchoring her, she almost slipped away. If you hadn't sent energy you did when you did...”
She blinked at me. “Which reminds me. Since you obviously are not an Ord, we are going to have a long chat about who your parents are-”
“-Were.”
“Oh. I'm sorry. You seemed so young, I assumed...”
The absence of my mother still wounds my soul. Maybe it always would. I tried to shrug, but, again, couldn’t because, I can’t move my arms.
“Plenty of time for that later; in the next week, we’ll work 24/7 to permanently expel the taint from her soul and her -now your- body. Can I ...count on you to help? If I release you, do you promise not to run screaming away?”
“Tamsin? How old am I?”
“Hmm?”
“Darcy. Her body. How old?”
Her voice caught. “She just turned 17, the age we are initiated with our Trial before Danu.”
Tamsin grew so sad again; all I wanted was hug her. Which I couldn't, dammit!
“Would you please release me?”
Her face brightened. “So you'll cooperate? And won't dash shrieking away?”
I bobbed my head.
What choice did I have? Either she spoke truth, which meant I had to help her to switch back, or she lied out her ass, which meant I had bigger problems.
Also, this might be kinda fun.
I mean, who gets a chance to be someone else, I mean, really? If Ma told me once of Cu Chulainn choice, she said it a thousand times; given his pick for a short life filled with glory, or a long uneventful one, á‰ire’s greatest warrior chose glory. And what would my mam think of me, shying away from an adventure? I was already in it; why not embrace it?
So, yeah, I agreed.
Also, I had to pee something fierce.
IV. October 26 — late Tuesday afternoon
“Again, Darcy.”
My word of the day? Experiment.
I was the grand experiment, as far the priestesses were concerned. They rallyed to Tamsin’s farm to save her daughter, which meant giving me a crash course in Danaan spellcraft 101. No problemo.
I sat under a massive oak near their grove and stared at my new enemy — a copper bowl filled with small kindling twigs, two feet before me. Chevonne grew more frustrated by the minute; we’d been at this exercise all morning, with zero results. I take that back; I’d given myself a massive headache.
“Don’t over think it. The magic flows around us; we swim in it. To use it, you must feel. If you think ‘and now I access the fire element’, you’ve lost the game. Breathe it.”
Sure. Makes sense, right? Unless you actually try it, and then it makes no sense at all. I’m supposed to activate fire, with my will, and not think about it? Rrriiiight.”
Here's why they were putting me through this misery: the priestesses’ fix for Darcy’s problem was to work a purification on Darcy’s soul —in my body- on Samhain, and for me to work a solo one on her body. Samhain is a powerful time in the Danaan’s yearly calendar, made all the more potent this year because a full moon fell on that night. Heap big mojo, as Mam used to say.
Confused yet? Let me really blow your mind: Tamsin and her ‘sisters’ were all descendants of a people called the Tuatha De Danaan —elves, for God’s sake!- who lived in Ireland before the Celts arrived. As near as I can tell, these people, and their descendants, share a genetic makeup that allows them to access an energy source as yet unrecognized by science (i.e. magic).
They aren’t unique; others exist around the globe, including those the sisters believed magically ‘poisoned’ Darcy, the Fomorians. They were the Danaans’ ancient enemies, who lived in Ireland before the elves arrived. Funny thing is, when I tried to categorize the People of Danaan as the good guys, and the Fomors as evil, Chevonne and Tamsin told things ain’t that simple. Ever.
Welcome to my bold new world. Bizarre right? Frankly, I’ve stopped using that word, because I found myself muttering it more times than the word ‘fuck’ is said in a Guy Ritchie movie.
“Darcy! Your mind’s a million miles away. Concentrate!” Chevonne snapped her fingers.
Concentrate? Yeah, sure. How am I supposed to do that? For one thing, everyone had taken to calling me ‘Darcy,’ which I totally understand, since I am her, at least in body. I guess if you called someone by one name all their life, it would be hard to instantly switch and call her Sean. It didn’t help me any, though.
Also not helping? Chevonne looking so damn hot. She was in her mid-twenties, had copper red hair, and was built. I would never cheat on Sarah, but I could still look at another woman, ya know, and appreciate the gifts God —or Danu- had given her.
“Dar-CY!”
Fine. I swept my long black hair behind my head again for the thousandth time, and scowled back at the copper bowl.
My first task was to learn how to cast a sacred circle.
Step one, I needed to place each of the elements — wind, water, earth and fire- at the four compass points, and activate them. Activating fire meant starting the kindling in the bowl with my ‘intention’, instead of, say, a BIC lighter, which made way more sense to me.
As I said, the only thing I’d activated this morning was a pounding in my head.
“Maybe you guys are wrong about me having this,” I made air quotes, “Power.”
“Nope.” Chevonne shook her head. “A switch isn’t possible with an Ord; like calls like.”
Whatever that meant. “An …Ord?”
Chevonne rolled her eyes; which, since they shimmered green, was distracting.
“Ordinaries. Humans who are magically challenged.”
“Oh. So, the fact you know Norms can’t switch-”
“Use Ord, Darse, Norm’s a character on Cheers.”
I blinked a few times, waiting to see if she was screwing with me, but ended getting lost in those amazing green eyes.
“Erm, okay, anyway, since you already know this about Ords, and er, not Ords-”
“Danaans. We are of the goddess Danu.”
“Rrrrightt. Point is, it sounds like you switch people all the time.”
“It’s not an everyday occurrence,” Tamsin said; startling me as she came up behind where I sat cross-legged, “but it does occur. The Weird Sisters, for example.”
“Weird …sisters?”
“No, The Weird Sisters,” Chevonne corrected. “Triplets who lived centuries ago; they switched bodies so often they forgot who they originally were. You might know ‘em better as the Three Witches from Macbeth.”
I was sooo done with letting them see my befuddled look. I ignored this latest crazy assault and craned to look at Tamsin.
“Sorry, but I’m not getting this fire starting exercise. Can we move on to the next thing? Like turning people into newts?”
“Don’t give up yet, dear,” Tamsin said sitting beside me. She threw an arm around my shoulders; she was becoming more ‘maternal’ by the hour. Only natural I suppose; I mean she did give birth to this body.
“I had another thought. The other night, when you sent your ‘harp energy,’ how did you think about it?”
I scrunched my forehead. “I …didn't know I was doing it, so I guess I didn’t think about it at all.”
“Exactly! Now, try something for me. Your harp has different colored strings, yes?”
My harp. áine.
Her image leapt to my mind; God I craved to hold her in my arms. Then I thought of other things I missed too …Sarah …my home …my voice caught when I spoke.
“I miss her …miss my harp.”
Tamsin ran her hand through my hair. “Oh, sweetie, you’ve been such a trooper, I keep forgetting how hard everything must be for you.”
It hadn’t been too hard so far. But that’s because I absolutely refused to acknowledge the switch.
Oh, sure, some things couldn’t be ignored; I’d be lying if I said otherwise. I mean, good Lord, I’m in a young girl’s body! I explored it, as any person -who wasn’t a zombie- would. And no, I won’t tell you about it.
The thing is, to me? I’m in a loaner, like a car rental. And those cars never feel like my own. Also, it felt … I dunno, wrong, or creepy, to do too much 'exploring', because in my mind, I’m still a twenty nine year old guy.
Chemistry was defeating me; every minute I spent in Darcy’s body, the young woman’s hormones were amping my emotions. I tried to convince myself I’d gone through something like this when I was her age, but I didn’t remember it being such a killer roller coaster ride.
“S’okay,” I said, and sniffled.
Sniffled, dammit it! Stop it, Sean!
“You had an idea about the colors of my …harp strings?”
“A thought popped into my head,” Tamsin said. “What colors are they?”
“Brass, but the Cs are colored red and the Fs are blue, to help you find your place in the strings.”
“Ah! And when you play a C string, do you think about it before you play?”
Where was she going with this?
“On some level I suppose, in the context of the measure I’m playing. But if you’re asking if I think ‘now it’s time to play a C,’ the answer’s no. That would make every song impossibly slow. My hands just know.”
“I see.” Tamsin said, smiling. I could tell Chevonne was as baffled as I about Tamsin’s questioning.
Tamsin stepped back and pointed at the kindling filled bowl.
“Try again, but this time, don’t think about lighting it. Instead, imagine in your mind you are playing your harp.”
“Sure.”
Easy enough; I always had harp songs playing in my head. I still didn’t see how this would make a rat’s ass difference in what we are doing.
“Are you playing?”
I nodded.
“Now, listen. Your red C strings are fire. Play one.”
“What?”
“Don’t think! Play one. Now!”
The finger I would have plucked the string with involuntarily twitched and…
…the kindling burst into flame.
Chevonne woo-hooed and clapped; all I could to do in my stunned state was blink.
“Excellent, Darcy,” Tamsin said. “Now …put it out. Your blue strings are water; pluck one.”
My finger twitched again, and the fire vanished in a cloud of smoking hissing steam.
“I see!” Chevonne said, bubbling. “And the plain strings will be air, yes? But …there are only three colors of strings, right? What will we use for earth? We could paint some brown and-”
“-No you won’t!” I said; and infused my words with as much indignation as I could. Brown harp strings? Sacrilege!
“But honey, it’s only for the visualization,” Tamsin said, in a voice which was clearly mother to pouty daughter. “We need the earth element represented too.”
I cocked my head. “And we have it. The sound board is made of wood; it can be earth.”
Tamsin’s eyes widened; she hadn’t thought of that. Heh.
“But how will you use it to activate the earth? You don’t play the soundboard.”
“Sure you do. Plenty of songs call for you to tap on the sound board. Like Paraguayan harp songs, where you make a heartbeat sound by-”
“-Just show us Darse; show us earth.”
A song sprang to my mind; my hand started tapping the sound board of my imaginary harp. Then, ever so slightly, the earth tremored at my feet to the rhythm of my beat.
“We are in business!” Chevonne shouted, as she high fived Tamsin. Then she bear hugged me -which I didn’t mind at all- before calming down.
“Now you know you can do it, we’ll wean you from having to use the harp image so you can activate the elements directly.”
“I’m not sure we should do that,” Tamsin said.
“Wouldn’t it be more efficient if she could drop the contrivance?” Chevonne said.
“Maybe, but I’m reminded of our history. Tell me, Darse, what do you know of the Dagda?”
First everyone called me Darcy, and now just ‘Darse’. I hoped to God it didn’t deteriorate to Dar.
“Um, Dagda? Wasn’t he a god or something?”
“You should learn of him: he is Danu’s son, the ruler of the Tuatha De Danaan and he invented the harp. He was First Bard, and mighty in skill. He could summon a winter’s night or summer’s day. His three types of music, called Goltrai, Geantrai, and Suantrai, left the listeners in ecstatic delirium, Goltrai, weeping in sorrow, Geantrai , or fast asleep, Suantrai, depending on his mood. His harp had a secret name, would come to him at his call, and only played on his command.”
I started to gape at the impossibilities she recited, but slapped my lips shut, for two reasons: 1) if I kept opening my mouth every time they told me another incredible tale from their world, a fly would eventually buzz in, and 2) I had just started a fire and put it out with a thought, so I needed to be opening my mind rather than my jaw.
Chevonne’s face brightened. “You think Darcy could be a True Bard! We haven't had one in centuries; wouldn’t that be a miracle?”
I had heard of the magic the Irish bards of old could work with their music; Mother drilled it into me. Could I really have this gift?
“Will I have this …talent …when you switch me back?”
Tamsin cocked an eyebrow. “You had it before you were switched, it seems, so the answer must be yes.”
The thought thrilled and scared me, because if I did have this ability, did it mean I should to quit my job and follow another path?
Tamsin patted my head and gave me a hand up. “Time enough for worry later. For now, let’s leave off training for the day and celebrate your break through. Since you did book here to enjoy the regional flavor, let’s make a trip to Barnacle Bob’s.”
“Sounds yummy. Is it like a crab shack?”
“A little more upscale than that,” Chevonne said. Since she looked close to drooling, I figured she’d eaten there before. “I’ll tell May and we’ll change. Meet you at the car in an hour?
“Um, change? I’m okay to go like this right?” I said, sweeping a hand down at the flannel shirt, jeans and running shoes I’d existed in since my switch.
“Nope. You’ll need something nicer. And I know just the thing.”
Uh-oh. The look of pure evil on Tamsin face made my throat go desert dry.
V. October 26 — early Tuesday evening, Darcy's closet
“This is not cruel and unusual punishment, Darse.”
“Is toooo.”
Holy crap! I sound like a teenage girl.
“These are called clothes. We've have worn them, for thousands of years. They protect us from cold, and allow us the option of not parading around buck naked, unless we want to. Are you telling me you want to, sweetie?”
Tamsin's blue eyes looked so innocent, it took me a moment to figure out what she had said.
“What? Naked? Me? Noooooooo.”
I wasn’t bothered about wearing what Tamsin would choose for me. Nope, it was the thought of going out in this body at all.
I hoped I’d serve my two week sentence hunkered down here in jeans or baggy sweats, switch back, and be on my merry way with a fantastic tale to tell my future grandbrats.
I looked away from the long khaki skirt and gray florally cardigan sweater Tamsin held, to the rack filled with grungy black cargo pants, jeans and Ts. Scattered below were pairs of black combat boots.
“Shouldn't I wear those clothes? I mean, to look like the real Darcy, so folks won't get suspicious?”
Tamsin's shoulders sagged. “I suppose, but you ...er, she, never wears the outfits I buy; not anymore. And I thought, this once, I might get to see what they look like on my daughter's body.”
Guilt trip much? Couldn't I do this to be nice? We're just talking about pieces of clothe, right? I huffed out a pained martyr's sigh.
“Guess so.”
“You will? You're wonderful, Darse. And look...”
Tamsin dragged a shoe box from the other side of Darcy's closet. From it, she pulled a pair of gray suede flat soled boots.
“...these will be perfect.”
Actually, the boots looked cool. This was starting to be fun.
Maybe too much fun? Shouldn't I be worried about what was happening with Darcy in my body? I mean, I know Tamsin said Darcy would only have my memories and completely believe she was me, but still, couldn't something go wrong?
"Before I get all decked out, would you do me a favor?"
"Sure sweetie, what?" Tamsin said.
“Would you check on how Darcy is doing in, er, my life? Ya know, to make sure everything is alright?"
"I've been worried about her too, and have been getting daily updates from the priestesses who are watching him,” Tamsin said. "So far, everything is fine."
Not nearly enough. What I needed to know was ...if he had spoken to Sarah.
"Please call, hey? My fiancée and I had a falling out before I came here and I'm worried about what Darcy might do to our relationship."
"Of course, love," Tamsin said, whipping out her cell and punching buttons. "Addie? Tam. I wonder if you could give me a quickie on how Sean is doing."
After several 'um-hmms' and 'I sees', Tamsin thanked Addie and clicked the cell off. Something Addie said made Tamsin blush during the call; I hoped it wasn't bad news.
"Well?"
"Since 'Sean's' return, he’s been spending a lot of time with Sarah, at your place and hers."
Spending time together? Huh. "Did, er, Addie, say what kind of time? Like, quality time or-"
"-Young lover time. Addie saw them going for a walk a few minutes ago, and,” Tamsin reddened again, "they couldn't keep their hands off each other."
What? Guess the 'breather' between me and Sarah is over, but how weird to think about someone else -who was but wasn't me- groping her.
"So good news, right?" Tamsin's eyes searched mine; clearly neither of us knew what to make of it.
I looked into her worried blue eyes and bit my lower lip. "Y-yeah ...guess so..."
"Don't look so sad, Darse, everything will be right as rain,” Tamsin said, wrapping an arm around me.
At that moment, I felt far shorter than my new 5' 3" frame; I was scared, and laying my head on her chest felt right. After some moments, Tamsin pulled away and wiped wetness from my cheeks.
"No tears, luv,” she cooed. "Tonight is about having fun. We've got a date with Barnacle Bob."
60 minutes later saw me sliding into the back seat of Tamsin's dark green Jaguar sedan. Since it had been parked in the garage attached to the house, this was the first time I'd seen her wheels.
“Hey, Mommy, I didn't know farmers were into Jags.”
“Ha! You've figured out by now the whole 'farm' thing is a front. Though it was a working farm when we bought it decades ago, we've done zero farming since. I run the converted barn as a rental so my neighbors won't wonder what really goes on out here.”
We were waiting for May and Chevonne to finish getting ready in that very barn. Both, I’d learned, were priestesses of Tamsin's 'order'; May was actually High Priestess. Oooo. I’d have to remember to be especially kiss-ass with her.
Tamsin told me male Danaan orders existed around the globe as well; the groups practiced their female and male magicks separately, but sometimes they combined to work together. It had always been so; the only reason the Ord world was clueless was because the Danaans went into deep hiding when Christianity swept the Celtic world.
“So what is the place a front for?”
“Powerful ley lines intersect in our sacred grove. We bought it just for that, and I have been the Grove Guardian every since Conner died.”
Connor? Her husband and Darcy's father, I assumed? Before I could ask, May and Chevonne emerged from the barn.
May's silver hair was her only feature which showed her to be the 'elder priestess.' Otherwise, I would have guessed from her smooth face and spritely pace she was in her late forties, tops and not pushing ninety, which Tamsin swore was the case. So how long did these long these Danaans live?
Chevonne scooted next to me in the back seat, dressed in skinny jeans and clingy sweater. Mmmm. She eyed my outfit as well, though I doubt with the same lust.
“Don't you look darling.”
“I was about to say the same about you,” I answered, and forced my eyes up from her chest.
Full disclosure — I did not think she looked ‘darling’. More like smokin’ hot.
Chevonne snickered. “Tam? I think Darcy has a crush on me.”
My cheeks burned. “Erm, no offense ...I mean I'm engaged and wouldn't think about ...urm...”
Chevonne leaned over, brushed her lips across mine, and whispered, “wouldn't think about what?”
That instant, I utterly failed in my quest to ignore my loaner body; my nipples hardened, my breathing grew ragged, and I became squirmy.
“What are you?... we shouldn't...”
Laughing, Chevonne drew back. “You are precious; I've never seen so much color on your face.”
“Don't let her vex you dearie, May said. “We Danaans have never been confined to loving one sex; aren't we supposed to enjoy all the pleasures of the body Danu gifted us with? Mono-sexuality is an Ord invention.”
Wait! All Danaans are bisexual? Mother of God! Chevonne might actually want to...
I halted the thought, for even if I was in another body, I’d be cheating on Sarah if I went down this path.
“If you are quite finished molesting my daughter, we need to be going. Tell her how adorable she is, yes, but hands off for the rest of the trip!”
Yea! Mama Tamsin to the rescue! But …did I want to be rescued?
End Part 1.
Moon Harper - Pt 2
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Moon Harper - Part 2
by Armond
Sean -now Darcy- need only learn a Danaan purification ritual to return to her old body. A week in the teenager's body, no more, and then back to his fiancé Sarah and normal life; easy, hey? Not with the entire Formorian race looking to off her, and a harp who suddenly has a mind of her own.
VI. October 26th - Tuesday 10PM
God the food was fantastic! I was stuffed to the gills with seafood - get it? Seafood? Gills? Arf arf- and could barely waddle out to where the Jag was parked outside Barnacle Bob's.
Bob's specialty dessert called -I kid you not- a Flaming Barnacle, was divine. Bananas and rum and chocolate, yum! It was the only alcohol I was allowed to consume, dammit, no matter how much I whined I was really 29.
Best part of the dessert though? My 'Danaan sisters' made me practice 'element control'; every time the waiter snuffed the flame out, I would restart it with a thought. Hilarity ensued.
Chevonne and I stepped out of the restaurant for a breath of autumn night air while the 'grown ups' paid the tab.
The air was bracing but my legs shivered a bit. “Skirts! Stupid design; why would anyone think these are practical in cold weather?”
“But you get to flash some of your rockin' legs,” Chevonne said, “which more than makes up for the discomfort, yes?”
The light in her eyes told me she was having fun, but still, why someone would make themselves miserable for fashion sake.
“No! If that's what you have to do to attract someone, is he even worth it?”
“You held this enlightened view in your old body, right, Darse?”
I loved it when Sarah wore a short shirt, but in warm weather, right? Before I could search my memory to see if I was riding the Hypocrite Train, a car pulled beside us.
Nothing screamed 'evil'; no skull wielded on the hood or spikey monster tires or such. It was a blue Ford Fusion, for Christ sake. But some sixth sense made me jump back.
As I did, Chevonne hissed, “Formorians!”
The window rolled down and a man …ish thing stared at me:
Other leathery beings leered at me from deeper in the car. The manthing spoke:
“D-arcy C-aroline! How surprising …how unfortunate …to see you …alive. Roth swore you were to undergo your initiation?”
I couldn't place his garbled accent, but the way he pronounced his words turned them grimy. I'd never seen him before - I'd remember someone as creepy as he- but obviously he knew Darcy.
My massive cranium rocketed into action, synapses firing at faster-than-light speed, to formulate an incisive reply -I was going with “uhhhh”-, but before I could give it, Chevonne pushed me behind her.
“Does Bres slobber more than usual on his throne? Has he grown so senile he forgets our last encounter?” Chevonne raised her hand, and shouted, darien!”
A whoosh enveloped me, and now a gauzy barrier stood between the creature and us.
“Impress shield, Danaam scum, but the contagion is already in her, don't you know. Do us a favor, Darcy, and this time …die.”
He raised a gnarled hand and barked, “du anhwyl dod byw”.
Burning pain! I doubled over and slammed the ground while something ripped its way out of my stomach.
“Chevonne! Help!” I coughed more than spoke, as blood filled my mouth.
The creature howled, “Why aren't you dead?” even as Chevonne shouted llosgi! and flames exploded onto the car.
And then I knew blackness.
VII. October 28 - Thursday noon
At least something wasn't crawling its way out of my stomach.
What I felt like, was something had crawled out, grabbed my hair, and swung me by it to body slam me a dozen times on the pavement - I hurt everywhere.
When I felt brave enough to open an eye, I found I was back in Darcy's bed, with Tamsin seated beside me.
“Hey?” I whispered.
She grabbed me in a hug, and I felt her shudder sobs before she pulled away. “Siofra and May said you'd be okay, but until you woke I wasn't sure.”
“Siofra and May-?”
“-Worked a massive healing. We were right; whatever foulness the bastards poisoned you —Darcy I mean- with, wormed its way into your body and her soul. If your soul hadn't been untainted, you would have died…” Tamsin's blue eyes glistened with tears.
“...and it would have been my fault, for I …I forced this switch on you. You could have died because of my selfishness. We will switch you back, I swear it.”
Her zeal surprised me. I never thought I wouldn't get switched back; was it even a possibility? Death, or banishment from my body forever - the stakes of this ‘game' loomed large.
“What was that thing last night? And what did it do to me? It hurt so bad!”
“Oh baby!” She hugged me again. “Not last night; two nights ago. You've been in a coma since. Formorian slugs! We've triple reinforced our wards, so we should be safe.”
In a coma? That scared me more than the memory of whatever attacked me. In a way, hadn't I been dead for those days? I tried to recall a memory of it, but only had the vague recollection …music.
“You're safe now, sweetie, don't worry…” She stroked my hand and used her 'mommy kiss it and make it better' voice.
“But, if I was poisoned …if I almost died, you should have raced me to a hospital, for God's sake!”
“We would not do it 'for God's sake,' love. We are Danu's children, and human medicine is not our way; ours is a different path.”
Like, what, Christian Scientists? Relying on prayer instead of modern medicine and surgery?
“You've never, in your life, taken an antibiotic?” When she shook her head, I couldn't stop the words.
“Holy crap! As far as races go, you Danaans are eating with only one chopstick.”
By the curl of Tamsin’s lip, I'd say I amused her. “And yet, we live far longer than humans.”
“How much longer? Twenty, thirty years?”
“Hard to say.” She shrugged. “While we live in the earth realm, we age near human rate, but when we travel to the Summerland, we are renewed and extended.”
Wait, what? Summerland exists? Mother went on forever about the wonders of this Never Never land when I was a kid; you mean it’s actually real?
Oh crap! My mouth flapped open; she'd done it to me again.
“Uh huh. Still, Darcy's body's poisoned you said. Modern medicine must have an antidote or-“
“Modern science has no remedy for a disease afflicting body and soul!”
I gulped. “But I am cured, right? You said May and … um-”
“-Siofra…”
“Yeah, Siofra healed me, hey?”
She shook her head. “They worked a powerful healing, but the feydark curse is insidious. It is in remission. Our best option remains a Samhain purification.
I collapsed on bed; everything was alien, complex and depressing. Maybe I was going to die.
“Hey! Everything will work out, I swear it,” Tamsin said. “We've lost some days, but we'll have you ready. Also, an old friend of yours showed up yesterday to lift your spirits.”
Old friend?
I couldn't imagine who among my friends she could risk exposing their secret world to, but when she stood, I saw my 'friend' in the corner of the room.
“You brought my harp to me? How …incredibly thoughtful, Tam; you knew how much I need her."
"Er ...don't give me too much credit," Tamsin said. "The harp ...showed up."
"Showed up? What do you mean?"
"Just that. Appeared. Here. By itself. Look, we Danaans are used to wondrous magic, but this has even us surprised, and-"
-I'd heard enough; I jumped out of bed …and toppled to the floor. I would have face planted if Tamsin hadn't caught me. I really hadn't moved in couple of days. I must have had to pee sometime too, right? I didn't want to know how …or who …took care of that duty.
“Where do you think you are going, missy?” Tamsin said. “It's back to bed for you.”
Missy? Lord, the mommy in her can’t help it. “Please …may I play her a little? It's been days since I've touched her and I'm going through harp withdrawal. It's worse than DTs”
“Don't you think it odd your first impulse after awakening from a near death experience, still in a foreign body, I might add, is to play your harp?”
Why? What could ever be wrong with playing my baby? My fingers itched.
Tamsin sighed and nodded her head. “But just for a moment. You'll only be bed released when May clears you.”
After she frog walked me to a chair beside my harp and plopped me into it, her eyebrow shot up.
“Your harp is a she?”
“Oh yeah!”
I wondered if she was going to be pissed at me for leaving her for so long. Had the new Sean played her? Would she know it wasn't me?
“Does your harp have a name?” Tamsin asked.
áine.
She whispered her name in my ear the first time I played her.
A true harp has a secret soul name, and if you are lucky enough to find one -or have one find you- then you know to never tell her name to anyone else, ever.
I looked at Tamsin, and smiled.
“I see. We really need to have a chat about who your parents were, Sean.”
The second time she'd mentioned that. My mam? I could talk about her for a year and a day. My father…?
When I was a wee one, Mother told me Da had 'gone beyond the Summerland,' whenever I'd be asking after him. As I got older, I figured she meant 'he died' in little kid speak. Mother was eel slippery on the subject, and at a certain point, I stopped asking. I resolved once I became an adult, she and I would have a heart-to-heart about who he was. But then, she died.
And now, to learn Summerland exists? Would that mean Da’s alive, too?
I shook my head, heaved a ragged sigh, plucked middle C, and warmed up with a few glissandos and arpeggio rolls. áine was in tune, so someone had played her, but…
Where have you been?
Hey!? áine never spoke this clearly before. But speak she had and …she was pissed.
“I've been missed,” I giggled, and dove into an Irish Jig called The Butterfly
It's a light and airy piece; just the kind of mood lift I needed.
Too airy, as it turned out, for after several bars, Tamsin startled me by putting her hands on the strings to dampen them.
“Darcy! STOP!”
“W-what? Why?”
Looking at her, I figured it out all by myself. Her hair was tussled, and wind still swirled about the room.
“Did I do that?” I asked in a small voice, once the gale died down.
“I thought so.” Tamsin crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You are a True Bard.
VIII. October 28 Friday 8AM
Snow! October Snow! Dusting the fall colors in white! I loved snow. It made me as giddy as a …
I let out a pained sigh and mumbled, “school girl.”
Yup. That's me, and would be, for another 4 days. A mere 96 hours; easy peasy.
Though it raised a question: Darcy is …or I am, 17, Tamsin said. Shouldn't she be in school? Had she graduated early? Was she home schooled? Or did the Danaan do it different? Yet another question to quiz Tamsin with.
After a shower, tooth brushing, and a semi successful stab at organizing my long wet hair, I jumped into some underwear thingies. The bra went on without too much drama, so yay me.
Picking an outfit didn't overload my brain either; black clothing filled Darcy's closet, and from these, I nabbed the single pair of non-black jeans (i.e. blue) and a black long sleeve T shirt. Gotta say this for the girl, her style was consistent.
A third of Darcy’s closet held clothes given to Darcy by Tamsin. Obvious for two reasons, they had colors, and price tags hung from them. From here, I grabbed a fuzzy royal blue sweater/coat number. If you put a gun to my head, I'd call it mohair, but I'm stupid about these things.
Darcy's obsession with jack boots didn't bother me today; with the colder temps and snow, these were practical.
I stopped in front of Darcy's vanity to check myself out. Meh, a little pale.
A little pale? Like I care? Yeah, I guess I do.
I let out another one of those martyr sighs I had perfected since my switch. Tamsin applied makeup stuff on me the other night; she said with my dark lashes and fine skin, I didn't need much but…
Lord help me, I'm going to slather this crap on. First, I tried to imitate the way Tamsin patted a powder blush on my cheeks. Then, I rubbed gloss across my lips, as I repeated the mantra 'just like chapstick.”
My grooming duties complete, I followed the smell of bacon, which I hoped would lead me to a hot breakfast in the kitchen.
No disappointment there; Tamsin had the aforementioned bacon piled in a plate, along with scrambled eggs, skillet potatoes, and blueberry muffins.
“Where's the coffee? I- I need coffee! Must. Have. Coffee! I-”
“Don't panic, Darse, we got you covered,” Chevonne said, handing me a steaming mug.
Talk about hyperfocusing! Only after a long draw of the black elixir, did I notice a breakfast eating crowd, staring at me.
“Um, good morning? Snow, hey?”
I was a regular standup comedian, cause everyone was snorting and guffawing; Chevonne, Tamsin, the healer Siofra, and a younger novice priestess I'd met yesterday evening, Gwyneth.
Yes, everyone was having a merry old time at my expense, except the blonde haired man wearing sunglasses. As tall as he was broad shouldered, he wore an Italian leather jacket, and a jaw line that screamed to be used as a male model. You know, Mr. Perfect Face. Except, it wasn't perfect, his nose had been broken, and it gave him a chiseled appearance.
Wearing sunglasses? Inside? On a snowy day? What's up with that?
I didn't ask, opting for another long gulp of joe. Mystery man would be explained when they were ready. See? I'm learning patience.
Tamsin stopped her puttering in front of the stove to stare at me, and her eyes watered. I knew I had mucho to learn about fashion, but I didn't think I was so bad I brought folks to tears.
“You look so cute, Darse. I never see you -her- take the time to …to…”
Oh. Those kind of tears. The real Darcy must never have given a shit about anything, if I can wrench water works from Tamsin with this pitiful effort.
“Darcy, meet Leolin,” Tamsin said, after clearing her throat. “After your attack, we called for help, and the Fianna Order sent him to protect you.”
Fianna? And who the hell are-
“-Think cross between Navy Seal and Secret Service, and you'll have a good idea of what the Order of Fianna Knights is about, sweetie,” Chevonne said.
“You know, you could at least let me finish the thought in my head before you crap out the answer.”
“Where's the fun in that?” Chevonne said, flashing her 'evil' grin. “Oh, and the reason he is more aloof than the typical Fianna, is he thinks this assignment is beneath him.”
Leolin grunted. “I did not devote my life to the Shining Sword Path to babysit a bratty girl.”
“Hey, I'm not…”
a bratty girl, was what I almost said. Almost explained I wasn't a girl at all, an in four days, I would be back in my adult body. Almost. But I figured Webster's Dictionary had a picture of Leo under the term “self-important prig,” I doubted anything I said would matter. So I dialed my voice to whiny and turned to Chevonne.
“…even going to think about what's next on my training list until I scarf down a muffin or three. Leo, be a dear and hand me the big one on top.”
Heat-anger waves radiating off Leolin, so hot, I was sure Tamsin would be able to fry another egg on them. Heh! I'd done an admirable job of suppressing a snarky grin, until Chevonne murmured, "well played."
“I'll be out checking the wards again, in the off chance there might actually be a need for me here,” Leolin huffed to Tamsin, before stomping out the door.
“Dar-CY!”
Uh-oh. Tamsin's hand had gone to her hip.
“Do not antagonize the Fianna; none are more deadly in battle! And he is here to protect you from the Formorians, since they've targeted you for some reason only Danu knows.”
“Er, sorry. You're right, and he also must be in so much pain too, because of his condition.” I shook my head in what I hoped was a demur way. “It was wrong of me to make fun of him. I'll apologize when he comes back in.”
“Condition?” Siofra asked, wondering, I guessed, if there was healing to be done.
“Yeah, the metal rod jammed up his ass!”
Chevonne snorted coffee out her nose, which drew a scowl from Tamsin.
“Do NOT encourage her!”
"But it's true!” Chevonne said, still snickering. “The Fianna are stuck up to the last man and woman of them.”
After breakfast, Chevonne, Siofra, Gwyneth and Tamsin -the four horsewomen of doom, my witty brain chirped- herded me to Tamsin's living room, and made me sit cross-legged on the floor. They sat likewise, facing me.
“Lots to cover, so let's get cracking,” Chevonne said. “Since you can activate the elements, your next lesson is circle casting, followed by a Goddess invocation. And then, the purification ritual.”
“Um, sounds complicated,” I mumbled.
“We've lost precious time because of the Fomor's assault on you, and must sprint to have you ready by Samhain,” Soifra said. “At least the attack revealed the nature of the corruption.”
I liked Soifra the moment I met her. All the Danaans were blessed with physical beauty, but the healer's hazel eyes held such warmth; I trusted her completely.
“Soifra? How bad is this spell? I mean, after your healing I feel fine…” except for being in the wrong body …”so do we need to wait until Samhain? Let’s get Darcy back her, you work your magic on her now, and then do your body switch-a-roo, yeah?"
The gentle healer shook her head. “When we switched your souls in the grove, all so the blackness infecting Darcy’s soul. And when I healed you, I felt the darkness yet there, I could not push it out. Left untreated, it will corrode both of you until…”
She didn’t need to finish the sentence. I shot a ‘how could you do this to me’ look to Tamsin, and she mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’
“There is a greater horror here still, Darse.”
That yanked me out of self pity mode. “What…horror?”
“Fomorian spells abound to attack a person’s body, but to infect a soul, means one thing.” Soifra shook her head again.
“C'mon, guys,” I growled. “I'm the one who almost died. Spill!”
“The Goddess blessed us with a natural immunity to such an attack,” Gwyneth answered. “The only way something could have stained Darcy's soul is ...if she had allowed it.”
“Why the hell would she do that?” I threw the question back to Gwyneth. “You’re her age, yeah? Weren't you BFF or something? Didn't she confide in you?”
Gwyneth shot a look to Tamsin. “I-I can't do this. I know she is someone else, but I see only ‘’Darcy’ and-” Gwyneth jumped up and ran out the front door; headed, I guessed, for the barnhouse.
Why did she act that way? “Um, did I say something wrong?”
“No dear, no,” Tamsin sighed. “Gwen and Darcy were best friends since they were wee barnies. Then, a year ago, Darcy severed their friendship in the cruelest way. Calling Gwyneth vile names, and telling her she never wanted to talk to her again.”
And this was the person now living my life with Sarah? Peachy.
Ohmygod! Wait! I'd been unconscious for days. What was going on in my real life? Panic bubbled in my stomach.
“Tell me how she's been doing as me,” I blurted, locking into Tamsin’s eyes. “I need to know everything is still okay.”
“I …don't know how to tell you this...” When Tamsin wouldn't return my gaze, I knew something horrible had happened.
A million worse case scenarios zipped through my mind.
Darcy as 'me' had broken up with Sarah, or…
…she got me fired from my job, or…
…or worse, what if she physically hurt Sarah?
No no no!
“What happened? Tell me!”
None would face me; but Tamsin kept speaking.
“Two days ago ...'Sean' and Sarah ...married …in a civil ceremony. The urge hit them and they did it.”
What? What?! My ears started ringing and head pounding.
“No. NO! That can’t be!”
“Aw c’mon, this isn’t so bad,” Chevonne said. “At least years from now, when Sarah accuses you of not remembering your wedding, it will be true.”
“You think this is funny?” I jumped up and fought the urge to smash something. “This is my life being screwed. My Life!”
Chevonne’s eyes widened “I’m sorry Darse, I-”
“-Change me back, NOW!” I screamed at Tamsin.
“We can’t, love, not until-”
I didn’t listen to another word, instead running to my —Darcy’s- room, slamming the door and crashing on the bed.
I cried.
Two tiny words; but what an understatement! I sobbed and couldn’t stop, convulsing so hard my stomach muscles cramped. Everything everything hit me.
Until now I’d pretended this ‘adventure’ was a game, not believing lasting harm would come.
Then some thing tried to kill me.
And now, this.
Married. To Sarah.
And I wasn’t there.
Maybe the most important day of my life, and a stand in did it for me!
I didn’t even know if I wanted to be married. Not yet. Not yet.
I needed to do something, NOW, or I would explode.
Come to me.
I raised my head to look at áine.
Come.
Blurry-eyed, I stumbled over, plopping in the chair beside her, and pulling her to my chest.
Play. What you feel. A lament. Play Bonny Portmore.
Yes! That’s what I needed!
I started, and played in the Aeolian mode; if you forced me to describe it in modern terms, I’d call it a minor key. I play in the 7 modes enough to know each by feel, for example, the Ionian sounds like the modern do re mi scale. The Dorian mode has a melancholy air to it. But the Aeolian mode —used in tons of blues songs- conveys despair.
And so I played.
I don’t know how long I sat there. I had so much pain flowing out me; a total loss of my life. But when I finished, I saw Tamsin, Chevonne, Soifra, and Gwyneth sitting on Darcy’s bed, hugging each other. Tears streaked their cheeks.
“Please please stop, Darcy,” Tamsin whispered. “We can’t take anymore.”
I managed a little grin, “I’ve been known to make people wince from my terrible playing, but this is ridiculous.”
“No, we’re serious,” Chevonne said through gulping sobs. “If a True Bard has the fire of inspiration on her, she can do anything, even make her listeners hearts burst from sorrow.”
Were they saying I was killing them? My hands started shaking and I yanked them away from áine’s strings.
We are powerful together; did not you know?
áine spoke more and more; what did it mean?
It is time you learned who you are, Shauna Deirbhile.
“Darcy? What’s wrong,” Tamsin asked, walking over to me.
“Everything, I-”
She put a finger to my lips. “I’m so sorry. I threw you in this, then ignored all you suffered, focusing on preparing you to work the purification and switch back. It’s so easy to pretend you are ‘Darcy’ and act like your real life didn’t exist-”
“-I’d been doing that too,” I said. “Pretending this was a short term fling; you know, not real. When you told me Darcy married Sarah …it all came crashing down.”
“Yeah, we felt your pain in your music,” Chevonne said. “Almost fatally so.”
Blood drained from my face. They were joking right? My music couldn’t do that. “I didn’t know I could do this. My music never had this …impact …before.”
“Don’t be sorry. The Goddess be praised but you are gifted!” Chevonne said, draping her arms around me.
“Tamsin? Chevonne?” Leolin voice thundered from the living room. “Come here! I found a Formorian friend hiding in your woods, bawling from Darcy’s little concert. I need help interrogating him; it’s time to learn why these shits are so fascinated with your brat.”
IX. October 28 Friday late afternoon
Gwyneth and I weren’t making progress. Not even baby steps.
We children were ordered to stay in my —sorry, Darcy’s- room while the grown up Danaans ‘questioned’ a spy Leolin captured in the woods. Leo found where the creature hid, because the thing was bawling with tears, from my playing. Go figure.
I’d peeked into to the living room where they held him. He looked frozen to his chair; Danaan restraining magic at work, no doubt. He also looked like a hideous extra from a Hellboy movie. I’d assumed those were all CGI, but looks like they were flesh and blood. I wondered if they were union.
So bogymen exist; how creepy is that? How many more lurked out in the woods? And …were they truly after me? I shivered.
Gwyneth wasn’t having much success forgiving me for the hateful words that came from these lips. She couldn’t manage to look at me for more than a second before she would turn away.
I, on the other hand, was giving serious consideration to hot wiring Tamsin’s Jag and zooming straight to my old apartment. My plan ended there; I had no clue what I’d say to Sarah and ‘Sean’. All I could think about was how I needed to get back home, to get back to my body, to undo what Darcy had done.
“Gwyneth, er Gwen? Would it help if I apologized for what I said?”
She blinked. “Hmm? No, Darcy called me those things, not you, so why would you-”
“-I’m sorry. If I could take back the words, I would. Forgive me.”
Gwyneth looked confused. “But you didn’t say them. You don’t even know what she said.”
“I know, but I thought, if you could hear her voice asking for forgiveness, it might help.”
“Though I appreciate the gesture, I-” Gwyneth stopped mid-sentence. “You aren’t her, are you? I mean, I know you aren’t, I was part of the circle when we switched you, but it’s hard to get past appearances, and you look so much like her well …you are her in looks, I mean…”
She was getting lost in the whole identity confusion thing; not like I hadn’t struggled with this since the switch. Time to throw her a life line. I held out my hand.
“I’m Sean Derhill, temporarily Darcy Caroline. Glad to meet you.”
She took and shook it, a smile spreading across her face.
“Pleased to meet you. Gwyneth O’Keeffe; the girl who’s been treating you like crap.”
“S'okay. Darcy was shitty to you —I guessed as much; try to suspend your wrath for the next few days is all I ask.”
“Deal. Though, you being her for that time offers an …opportunity. Darcy’s personality changed over a year ago; she swapped her cute clothes for boring black, told me she never wanted to see my face again, and started cavorting with the Fomors, it seems. Let’s do some CSI’ing to figure out why.”
CSI’ing? That’s a verb now? What happened to Nancy Drew sleuthing?
“What’d you have in mind?”
She motioned to the MacBook on Darcy’s desk. “Darse kept a video diary. Let’s dive in and see what she’s been up to.”
I walked over with her, though I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be able to view it. Darcy would have put password protection on it, you’d think? If it were my deepest darkest thoughts, I know I would.
When Gwen fired it up, I realized this might not be a problem; the Mac had a finger swipey thing for security. I gave my index finger a ‘duh’ look.
“Oh.” I swiped it, and we were in.
After I fumbled around too long looking for the program, Gwen said "move" and shoved me aside. She clicked on the Video Diary icon, and, bam! I was looking at the deepest most personal feelings of the young woman whose face and body I wore.
“These entries were before she …changed. When she and I were still…”
Gwyneth’s words dissolved to choking sobs, the kind made by someone trying not to cry, but failing.
I reached out and hugged her —it felt right to do- and she clasped me hard.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and we turned back to the bright face on the screen.
“You sure this is okay?”
Did I feel guilty? You bet! What right did I have to be looking at this? Yeah, I was in the body that made the diary —again, sooo weird- but I would be out of it soon, so wasn’t I …I dunno, being a rude house -or body- guest by doing this?
And why do girls make diaries if they don’t want them to be read? Or worse, shoot a video of it? Is it introspection they crave? Or did they want it to be seen, deep down?
Gwyneth came to a different conclusion. “We are doing this for her. We’ve got to understand what happened to her, and when.”
The next hour was bleak; Gwyneth and I watched the tragedy of a vibrant girl decline into despair. Three months after her first entry, Darcy told us she met a boy. Though she didn’t attend high school —Gwyneth explained Danaan children were home schooled, except for the summer months, when they gathered at camps for Danaan spellcraft training- Darcy had taken to sneaking into town every so often.
At first, her AWOL jaunts were no more harmful than fast food runs. Until she met …Roth.
The vid entries changed. She turned giddy in the webcam clips, in the grip of ‘young love.’ At first, Roth showered Darcy with affection, something the Danaan —who must have been particularly sheltered living out here- had never experienced. She gushed over several uncomfortable clips about how dreamy the mysterious boy was.
Then …her looks changed. She used white foundation, applied dark, thick eyeliner, and blood red lipstick. Her grunge wear appeared too.
Worse, her expression saddened, deadened, clip by clip, as she explained how Roth asked her to change this or that, for him.
The saddest clip, by far, was one of the last, where Darcy showed awareness of her manipulation by the boy. Defeated and self-loathing, she confessed to the webcam that all she ever wanted was to be loved by someone.
“Those bastards!” Gwyneth hissed. “They did this to her! If only I’d known!”
We didn’t think it could get worse but it did; in the last vid clip, a breathless Darcy told of a mysterious tattoo artist Roth took her to so she could prove her love for him, and how the man worked his needles on her back, just above her butt.
“You got a tattoo?” Gwyneth asked.
"What? No, I-"
"-Oops! Sorry. But you've seen it right?"
I shook my head. "I'm really really trying to pretend this hasn't happened, Gwen, but it ain’t working." I’d turned the whine knob up to full again. “People trying to kill me, Darcy in my body screwing up my old life..."
"Chill, girl, you'd think you were on your period the way you went off. You aren't are you?"
What?! I hadn't thought about that. "Mother of God, do you think I am?"
Gwyneth giggled. "I wish to Danu I had a snap of your face. I doubt you are dear; believe me, you'd know. Now, turn around so I can see this tat.
I did; Gwyneth lifted my shirt. And went silent.
"Well? C'mon, what is it?"
“Bad," Gwyneth whispered, and led me to Darcy's dresser where she hiked up my shirt back again. I craned around to see:
Yeah, nasty looking design, but it wasn't a skull demon biting someone’s head off or anything.
"Not so bad, hey?"
Gwyneth cleared her throat. "I've studied this in my training, and -we need Tam to confirm- but I think it's like a parasite. The "eye" punches a hole in your auric shields. Through this opening they cast the spell that leeched onto your body and soul.”
All in my mind, I’m sure, but now, the damn thing itched.
“Get it off!”
“Umm …can’t? It’s a tattoo? We’ll figure something out, but for now-”
Leolin burst into the room. “You. Darcy. With me, now! We’re leaving.”
“I …what? Why?”
Tamsin followed the Fianna warrior. “The Fomor talked. A band of them are nearby; they’ve come for you, tracking you somehow. Chevonne’s going with you; she’ll explain everything; she’s bringing Leo’s car around.”
Tracking me? How? My back itched again. Crap!
“Don’t stand there looking stupid. Move!” Leolin yelled.
I looked at Tamsin. “What about you? They’ll kill you! And Gwen and May and-”
“-Don’t worry for us, sweetie, we can defend ourselves. And, from what the Fomor told us, they want you, and will follow you, I expect, when you leave. Hurry!”
Shauna don’t leave me!
Never again, áine!
“My harp, she comes with me.”
“Not an option,” Leolin said. He grabbed my arm and started pulling me to the door.
I yanked free and ran to gather áine in my arms.
“I said, She. Comes. With. Me!”
Leolin glared at me before growling:
“Fine, bring the damned thing, brat. But do it now!”
The next minutes were adrenalin rushed blurs. Leolin threw me and áine —no other way to describe it- into the back seat of his black Dodge Charger, and jumped into the passenger seat. Chevonne stomped the pedal, and we moved.
As we barreled down the dirt road, a half-dozen clawed leather clad trolls sprung from nearby trees. Chevonne swerved between massive beings in a move that would have made Richard Petty proud; only one scraped the side of the Charger.
“You rate a freakin Fomor Berserker Guard? Damn girl, they want you bad,” Leolin said. “Caugrch claimed could track you; wish I could figure out how.”
We careened down the dirt road pushing 100, and I clutched áine for all I was worth to shield her from bumps, so excuse me if my hearing wasn’t tip top.
“Caaawwggch? Sounds like something spat out by the Evil Name Generator on the Web,” I shouted.
‘He’s the Fomor scout we captured,” Chevonne yelled back, turning around.
“Watch the road!” Leolin and I screamed.
Looking out the back window, I saw specs in the distance …motorcycle riders?
“Guys? We’ve got company.”
“Dammit! I knew I should be driving!” Leolin said.
“You think you can get this piece of crap to go any faster?” Chevonne said. “Knock yourself out.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I had a metal mage tune her so she responds best to me,” Leolin said. “And if you insult her again, you’ll be walking, Fomors or no. Move.”
Oh crap oh crap oh crap! Chevonne and Leolin pulled an in-car switch going 90! Of everything that had happened so far, I think this was scariest. You do not want to be hurtling mach speed down a dirt road at dusk while two people execute a Twister ® game move.
“Aww, was wittle Darcy scared?” Chevonne said, after she scooched to the passenger side.
Damn straight; I near wet myself. But give Leolin credit; with him behind the wheel, we flew. Whoever followed fell behind and disappeared from sight.
X. October 29 Saturday morning
Three hours later saw us holed up in a Motel 6. The plan -doled out in little bite sized pieces, since Leolin acted like I was a 17 year old- was to head for the Danaan Sanctuary in Boston; Leolin figured a full company of Fianna would hold off whatever force was chasing us.
He didn’t take a direct route though, since he figured our pursuers would expect us to make straight for the Sanctuary. So we stopped; midnight had struck, and Leolin wanted sunlight before we moved again. Also, our stop would give Leolin a chance to get some-
“-Answers! And I want them, now!” He growled, as I exited the bathroom.
Leolin had laid on impressive array of weapons on one of the beds: two Browning High Power 9mms, six throwing knives, a mini uzi, a sawed-off shot gun, and various shot gun shells and ammunition clips.
“What, no sword? Surely someone devoted to the ‘Shining Sword Path’ has one,” I said to Leolin.
“I keep it on my person at all times,” he answered. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Even when you shower? Aren’t you scared, ya know, of accidently cutting your pecker off?”
“You are a brat,” Leolin said. “Why the Fomorians think you are the ‘child of the prophecy’ is beyond me.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t be on the road? Won’t they track us here?” I had been eyeing his arsenal and hadn’t focused on what he’d said. “Wait! What? Who’s a child of prophecy?”
“You are…” Chevonne said, as she stretched on the other bed. Mmm, she looked yummy all spread out like that. Oops! This is me, still being a guy in here.
She must have read my mind again, because she blew me a kiss before she continued.
“…Or Darcy, is; at least that’s what Caugrch told us-”
“-When you waterboarded him.” I was conflicted on how they pried the info from the Fomorian.
“We didn’t torture him; we used a compulsion spell to-”
“-Stop. Right. There.” Leolin walked to where Chevonne lay, and crossed his arms. “Are you saying she’s not Darcy?”
My eyes went wide. “Tam didn’t tell him?”
Chevonne propped up on her elbows. “We hoped to handle this without fuss. We thought all we needed was a little muscle. We were clueless about some damned Fomorian prophecy.”
“A little muscle? I’ve been in contact with the other Fianna, and they report Fomor activity up and down the Atlantic coast. We are looking at the greatest movement of Fomors in centuries and you wanted ‘a little muscle?’ Danu save us all!”
Leolin walked back to me, placed hands on the sides of my face and said, “You. Talk. Now.”
So I told him all that had happened as best I could. He let go of my face and flopped beside me on the bed.
“Danu! What you must be going through. I had no idea.”
I shrugged. Because, what could I say? I certainly hadn’t seen any of this coming.
He brooded for some minutes before speaking. “This trigger spell they cast on …Darcy …worries me. Something that intricate would require the skill of a powerful Fomor mage, like Ldul, or Farve.”
Chevonne bolted upright. “No! She’s in Bulgaria, right and he’s somewhere in the South Pacific?”
Leolin shook his head. “We can’t assume anything; Caugrch said they’ve been preparing for this for hundreds of years. Let me see that tattoo.”
When I raised my shirt, Chevonne came over too.
When neither spoke, I grew antsy. “Hey? Bad news, yeah; Gwen already told me.”
“Abomination!” Leolin shouted. “How could you allow them to do this to you?”
“I didn’t!”
“Sorry,” Leolin said, and put a hand on my shoulder. Compassion from the asshole Fianna knight? Who saw that coming?
“I’m still struggling with the whole switch concept, and now I see this disfigurement on a pretty girl’s back. I spoke without thinking.”
The tat scared even Leolin; how horrible was this thing? Wait, did he say I was pretty?
“Gwen called it a parasite and said it punched a hole in my auric body? I haven’t a clue what that means.”
“Imagine someone intentionally injecting themselves with the AIDS virus, but on a psychic level,” Chevonne said. “No wonder I couldn’t shield you the other night. This works like a vacuum cleaner to suck up any nasty spell they throw at you.”
Christ, I wanted that thing off of me. No, I wanted my body back!
Shauna? Let us see what we can do with a healing song.
I walked to grab áine from where I’d placed her on the table.
“I don’t know any ancient healing songs.”
“Who’s she talking to?” I heard Leolin ask, to which Chevonne answered “I don’t know; her harp?” I ignored them.
A dark energy is grafted on you. We will expel it, breathe it out. Choose your song and let us do it. It doesn’t have to be an old one. Choose one filled with energy.
“We haven’t time for this; the tat is a huge neon sign. We can’t wait for dawn; we need to move now!”
Leolin’s voice came from faraway; the world was now áine and me.
“Breathe it out, and energy? I’m thinking …Vollenweider’s Air Dance, hey?”
Play!
Yeah, áine’s not an electric harp, and a band didn’t back me up either, but I slapped rhythm on her sound board, and fell into the syncopation of the song.
The vibration, no, -the vibe- flowing through me felt bubbly good, and got better with each breath I blew out. At some point I laughed out loud, and when I did, áine whispered.
Shauna, we are done.
When her strings stopped ringing, I let out one last sigh and opened my eyes; Chevonne and Leolin stared at me.
“What? Aw c’mon; it wasn’t so bad.”
“N-no. You are amazing but,” Chevonne’s eyes held a wild glint, “as you played, a dark haze rose from your body and dissolved in the air.”
We are powerful! Wait until Samhain, when we shall remove every spec of the taint! áine whispered. Tell them to look at the markings now!
“Um, look at my tat now?”
Chevonne rushed over, and gasped ‘Danu’ when she looked. Then she dragged me to the room mirror. I craned my neck to see:
three interlocking swirls had rewritten the nasty Fomorian tat.
“Whoa! Better, hey? Urm, but what is it?”
“A Goddess mark,” Chevonne whispered.
“I don’t know anyone who can what you did,” Leolin said. “Who are you? What are you?”
Tell them. Tell them who you are.
áine compelled me; I spoke words she placed on my lips:
Mother of Gods, my Seanmhá¡thair,
The Good God, my Athair,
Bard called,
Moon called,
Call me… Shauna Deirbhile
End Part 2
Moon Harper - Pt 3
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Moon Harper - Part 3
by Armond
I am now Shauna Deirbhile, and with my harp á€ine, I work miracles with my music. I'm dealing with a lot, hey? Mere days ago I was clueless Sean Derhill. Turning into a teenage girl has become the least of my worries, for I cannot explain the magic that flows from my harp strings, and it frightens me. The issue may be moot; the Fomors have marshalled all their resources to stop me from working a ritual that will switch me back. They want me dead dead dead.
X. October 29 Saturday 2AM
A hive of bees buzzed in my head; what am I?
Leolin and Chevonne could not stop talking about what I’d done and said. I’m sure I seemed catatonic to them. Maybe I was.
We whizzed along at mach speed again in Leolin’s Charger; said Knight throwing out the occasional Fianna curse at himself —colorful those- for not taking I-95. No, we traveled some no name two-lane crowded with trees. Stir that in with 2-frickin-AM, dark clouds eclipsing the moon, and the feeling of being chased by what I now assumed to be an entire race of bogey men, and the whole thing added up to Stephen King central.
But wait, there’s more! We zoomed to God-knows-what in Boston; a Danaan fortress nestled in the center of town? How could that be and no one know? So I asked.
“Glamour,” Chevonne said. The magical races possess a chameleon like ability to project a ‘normal’ appearance to Ords. The Boston Danaans rely overly much on it.”
Cloaking an entire stronghold? I wasn’t buying.
“Are you sure? I saw them; leather man in the car the other night, and I peeked in at Craig when you had him in a freeze spell.”
“Caugrch, not Craig,” Leolin growled from front seat. “And we used a stasis spell-”
“-she’s not getting any of this, Leo,” Chevonne said.
She had switched to the back seat, to be near me. Not sure why …maybe she was scared I’d jump out of the car once I figured everything out. It’s an option.
“I could tell you the reason you see through the Fomors glamour is because you are in Darcy’s body, and Danaan have a natural immunity, but…” she took my hand in hers, “you’ve seen them before, haven’t you?”
I nodded, and whispered, “When I was a kid, I would see, um, creatures …and Mom would-”
“Tell you they didn’t exist?” Chevonne said.
I shook my head. “No, the opposite; she said to stay away from them, that they were dangerous to me, and I…”
I gazed at the dark blur of trees outside; I didn’t want to finish the thought, for it meant my mother knew. She knew about all this. A hand caressed my cheek.
“Talk to me, love, tell me what’s wrong,” Chevonne said.
á€ine sat next to me, silent for now; I had the feeling she was letting me …digest it all. I ran my hand along her smooth neck; she felt …no …she was …alive to me.
“I thought, you know, as strange as this body swap was, this deal was doable. Spend a few interesting days as Darcy, switch back, and voilá , done. But …things are happening I can’t explain. I can do things with my harp, impossible and even frightening, and …the name you called me, Shauna. Before I announced it, you thought of me as Darcy, or Sean-as-Darcy, but now I’m Shauna; I bet you can’t think of me any other way.”
You are Shauna, á€ine said.
“We aren’t stupid,” Leolin called back. “You are the Fomor’s ‘child of prophecy.’ I pray to Danu we can get you to the Sanctuary so we can protect you.”
I’d gone from bratty girl to what in his eyes? Potential weapon against his enemy? “Yeah, I bet you can’t wait to let your folks look at me and see what I’m good for against the Fomorians.”
“That’s not fair! I do not see you that way,” Leolin barked, and Lord, he sounded like he meant it.
“Would it help if we told you the prophecy Caugrch spoke of,” Chevonne asked.
I nodded, though what I would learn was sure to depress me.
“A thousand years before Nostradamus, the Fomorians had their own Nostradamus, the seer Cethlenn. She was wife to Balor the one-eyed, their leader and god; he could kill you with a glance, and…”
Kill you with a glance? Bet he didn’t get many party invites.
Pay attention, Shauna, á€ine chided in my head, this is important.
“…among her many predictions,” Chevonne continued, “Caugrch said one of the biggies was a daughter of the Dagda, he whom we call the Good God, would come. Cethlenn warned if this daughter was initiated into Danu’s mysteries, she would forever tip the balance of power between the Danaans and Fomorians. The Fomors have watched for such a daughter to be born ever since. Watched so they could kill her before she could be initiated. Several years ago, the scrying mirrors of the Fomorian mages started flashing images of Darcy. But now Leo and I think, they were really seeing-”
“-Me? Impossible! I wasn’t born a girl! My father wasn’t the Dagda, right? And-”
“-Shut UP everyone,” Leolin shouted, as he stomped on the brakes, sending us into a screeching sideways stop. “We’ve got trouble.”
In front of us stood a gray fog wall. I turned around, to see another stood behind us, too.
“Is it …them?” I said, breathless. “What do they want?”
“To kill you.” The car door opened. By itself. “Chevonne, take her and run for the trees. Find somewhere safe and shield her. I’ll make a stand here.”
We exchanged glances; silently saying ‘was this the last time we’d be seeing each other?’
Chevonne grabbed my hand while I grabbed á€ine, and we ran into the frozen forest.
Behind Leolin shouted, farch newid and I turned, to see a mounted knight bathed in greenish glow:
“He’s …he’s…”
“A Fianna Knight in full armor mode,” Chevonne said, dragging me away from the road and deeper into the wood. “They are a wonder to behold. But not invincible. If there are too many…”
We soon lost sight of him, but knew where he was, for soon we heard the clang of his sword, and occasionally, screams in the dark.
When we stumbled into a small clearing, Chevonne murmured “this must do” and cast a circle, activating the elements far faster than I’d imagined possible.
She spread her arms wide and chanted darien, which I now knew meant ‘shield’. A gauzy dome enveloped us.
The sounds of clanging sword metal grew louder, more rapid. The number of bloodcurdling screams tearing the night also rose. I wanted to scream and run. Instead I held her hand, clasping tight.
“Is our plan to wait for Leo to …dispose of …whoever’s attacking?”
She nodded. “They know we are here. They also know with a Fianna Knight as a protector, they must first kill him before they can move on us. We will know if the battle goes poorly for Leo if we hear him fire his guns.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“They will have broken through his Fianna defensive enchantments.”
This is no plan! á€ine growled to me. Open to me; I’m going to teach you a song.
“What? Now? Why?” I said.
“Think magical armor,” Chevonne said. “Think glamour and a shield combined, I’m told-”:
“-Sorry, I was talking to …my harp. She has another plan in mind.”
“She’s alive? Like a person?”
Are you ready?
“To learn a new song? Are you kidding? How can I concentrate, when Leo fights for his life and ours too?”
The sword clangs stopped, replaced now by the rapid popping of an Uzi. Oh crap.
The world flip-flopped again, as when I switched bodies with Darcy, only this time I didn’t lose consciousness. Now I felt stretched and taut, but otherwise couldn’t move.
“This is a favorite of his,” á€ine said, her voice different this time, sounding like …mine. “It’s called Song of Reconciliation.”
His who? I never asked, because when the notes started flowing, I realized…
…I was the harp!
I was sound …vibration …energy …the infinite silence between …I was… I don’t have words to …words couldn’t begin to…
When á€ine whispered, Don’t even try, I realized I’d returned to my body of flesh. And I knew the song, my fingers, my body could replay it with ease.
“Danu, what a song!” Chevonne’s eyes were teary, but then she blinked several times. “Wait! I don’t hear Leo anymore; I think he must be…”
From the darkness, we heard feet crunching frosty ground and garbled curses. The Fomorians were coming. Chevonne grabbed my arm. “Run, Shauna! I’ll delay them a few moments.”
No no no! I’d grown close to the feisty priestess over the past days and couldn’t abandon her.
“But then they’ll kill you too!”
She grabbed my shoulders. “I don’t know what you are, but for Danu’s sake they must not kill you! Now go!”
We are not running! á€ine said Wait for him. He will come …I hope.
Something did come.
Chevonne heaved a huge sigh. “Blessed be; we’re saved! Danu is here!”
A figure materialized, just beyond Chevonne’s domed shield.
“All is well, my dears, lower your shield so we may leave this fell woods.”
Danu? I didn’t know what Chevonne saw, but —though I had never met her- I was pretty sure this creature wasn‘t the Mother goddess:
“Yes, Great Mother,” Chevonne choked, -I heard tears there too- “I will lower it at once.”
When she started to raise her arms, á€ine screamed, Grab her! Don’t let her lower her shields!
I threw my arms around her waist; I meant to wrestle her to the ground. I wasn’t sure how that would go, since I couldn’t weigh more than 100 now.
“What are you DOING! She’s Danu! The Mother of All! She’s...”
A vibration resonated as I touched her; a clear clean ringing.
Chevonne shook her head, blinked at the woman before us, and said, “...a Fomorian sorceress, glamouring me. Dammit! I …don’t know how you managed it, but thank you Shauna Deirbhile, for stopping me from committing a fatal and —erm, novice- mistake.”
“Er, you’re welcome.” How did I do that, á€ine?
You aren’t ready to know.
Great! My harp knows more about what’s going on than I do.
Damn straight.
“Must we do this the hard way, Priestess?” the Fomorian said. “I am called Ldul, perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
“Aw, shit,” Chevonne whispered. She stiffened her back and stood. “I am honored you have sought me out; shall we duel to decide this issue?”
Ldul barked a laugh. “I did not ‘seek you out,’ as you say. You disabled our tracking mark, which was impossible -neat trick, that- so we positioned garrisons on all roads in to Boston. I am honored the kill has come to me; Farve will be pissed. Lower your shield, release the girl to me, and you shall live.”
“Is she, ya know, good?” I whispered.
“Way out of my league; Tam might have a chance.”
“This is not a ‘take you time to mull it over,’ offer,” Ldul said. “Let me sweeten the pot. “If you don’t die from my first attack, I shall give you into the care of these fine gentlemen. They’re upset at the loss of so many brothers to the Fianna Knight and are in need of comforting. Lazgorth! Orgug!”
Two hissing and gnarled semi-humanoids scrapped their way out of the wood gloom to stand next to the sorceress; I felt Chevonne flinch at the sight of them.
“Well, Priestess?” Ldul said. “Do you choose to give her to me, or die? Her fate is the same, either way.”
“Does your harp have any bright ideas? I figure my shields will survive one of her attacks; two, tops.”
Stall! I feel him near.
“Feel who near?” I said.
“What?”
“Sorry, Chevonne, she says stall.”
“I was hoping she would tell you to play a lament so powerful, they would all perish from sorrow.”
As a last resort, á€ine said, for you would also kill Chevonne and the knight, too, if he yet lives.
“Well?” Chevonne said.
“Not an option. If I do-”
“-Time is up! llosgi” Ldul shouted. And roaring flames engulfed us.
I thought we were toast, but soon I realized the flames passed over and around us. After what seemed an eternity of blinding heat, the flames stopped.
“You held, you-”
Oh God! Blood rolled down the Priestesses nose and tear ducts! “Chevonne, what’s-”
“-Such power she has,” Chevonne whispered. “I gave all I had …more than I had-”
Chevonne slumped to the ground as her shield faded. I grabbed her in my arms, but …she was limp, and …I felt no pulse.
“Your turn,” Ldul chirped.
Sorrow washed over me, and I raised á€ine.
I didn’t know if I had a chance of strumming a few notes before she incinerated me, but damned if I wasn’t going to try to inflict some pain on the bitch!
I learned something when á€ine and I switched; she could take any form of harp I chose. Play a lament? Hell no! I’d shift á€ine to Paraguayan harp form, spin out Pajaro Campana , and make this murderess’ head explode!
Shauna stop! No need, á€ine said. He has come.
“So there’s where my harp has run too!” A voice boomed from behind. “I’ve searched the realms for you, if ya blasted thing.”
A giant man crashed through the woods. Red headed, red bearded, he carried a steaming cauldron in his left arm and an oak sized club in the other.
The Dagda, your father, is here.
XI. October 29 Saturday 3AM
And now, this …god? stood before me. A god my harp claimed was my father?
I don’t remember falling down the rabbit hole, nor drinking potions in ‘drink me’ bottles, nor ever agreeing to be Alice.
I might have tried to enjoy the Lewis Carol madness, except Leo was dead; Chevonne lay beside me, with her life force bleeding out and…
“llosgi,” Ldul screamed,
…a crazy sorceress was trying to fry me.
As her fire ball streamed toward us, the giant swung his club as a bat, hitting the flaming sphere back at the Fomor. This was an unexpected maneuver for Ldul, for she had no blocking shield in place; the fire caught her in the midsection, and carried her as a comet into the night sky.
“A Sixer!” Dagda said. And like that, where the woods were filled with nightmares moments before, now there were no signs of Fomorians, anywhere; only night wind through trees.
“Come, Harp,” he said, but I heard á€ine in the word. The giant held his hand, and á€ine trembled in my arms, but did not move.
The Dagda’s bushy red brows raised. “I said come.”
No great Dagda, á€ine answered, for I am no longer your harp; I am hers.
“Are you now? Prove it! Play a tune for me, lass, on your harp!”
“Play something?” I shrieked. Chevonne’s hand was cold in mine. “Are you insane? My friends are dead!”
Shauna! All rests on this, even their lives, á€ine said. Play!
How could I play given all that had happened? What could I play? When all else fails, a harpist reaches into his —er her- wedding bag mix and pulls out Pachelbel's Canon in D, or Greensleeves. I went with Greensleeves . Which came out far more up tempo than I could have imagined, given my black mood.
I opened my eyes, to find the Dagda seated cross-legged before me, staring wide-eyed. He stroked my face with his massive hand.
“Of Ainge and Brigit am I aware, but a third daughter? I pay more heed to when me pants are down or up.”
From what little I knew of him, The Dagda was called ‘The Good God,’ but I was figuring out the title didn’t refer to moral goodness. He seemed a lustful lout.
He is ‘good’ in the sense of being best at what he does, warrior, artist, mage, and powerful ruler, á€ine said, then she spoke aloud, -or in both our minds, I wasn’t clear how this worked-
“She is Shauna Deirbhile.”
“Ah. Well then, Shauna Deirbhile, as ye have the knack, you may use my harp for a bit. Treat her well, though, or you’ll be hearing from me. And…”
He stood; I craned my neck far back to see the ruddy face towering high above me.
“…drink this.”
From somewhere, out of thin air, he produced a silver goblet, which he dipped into his cauldron before handing it to me.
I blinked at the liquid in the cup; it fizzed. “What is it?”
“Not sure what I had in me bowl last; pig soup I’m thinking? Drink! You’ve a touch of Formor taint to ye, and this will fix you right up. Give a drop to your friends, too.”
With that, he strode into the dark woods, chuckling, ‘another daughter …who knew?’
I blinked at the cup. “Pig soup?”
Drink! It is from the Cauldron of Rebirth, á€ine said.
So I did. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this Rebirth liquid, but it tasted like Fresca.
Now pour some into Chevonne’s mouth, á€ine said.
I lifted her head; she was so cold. Dead. I pushed her lips and teeth apart to pour the liquid in. Most ran to the side, but some went in her mouth.
Nothing happened.
Leave her! Find Leolin! The qualities of the elixir last but a short time.
“But…”
Run!
I gently lowered her head to the frozen ground, and ran to the road carrying the cup. Though the road was slick in many places with a dark fluid —blood?- I didn’t see him. I panicked, running many yards up the road, as the liquid fizzed in the cup. Was I imagining, or did the bubbling grow fainter?
Over there! A body in a ditch, pin-cushioned by gnarled spears.
Leo!
I raced to him, and set the cup to the side. I started the grisly task of pulling the spears from his body; I figured on the off chance the ‘elixir’ worked, its effects might be negated if his body was, ya know, still filled with spears.
Once I’d pulled them free, I forced the brew into his mouth. And waited.
And waited.
“Hey! You ditched your harp; I thought you might …need it?”
I almost jumped out of my skin; I did not hear her coming! Chevonne stood next to me, holding á€ine. The priestess looked confused, frightened, and so alive.
Leolin shuddered, then coughed.
I scrambled back to avoid being knocked over when the warrior sprang to his feet.
“My sword! Where…?”
He looked down, to see his shirt shredded in places where the spears hit …but found no wounds.
“What happened?” Leolin said.
“I remember you dying, and …I must have too when Ldul…” Chevonne’s voice was soft. “What did you do, Shauna?”
Don’t tell them, á€ine said, as I picked her up. They aren’t ready to know…
I’m not ready to know, I answered.
“Can we go?” I said. “Those things could slither back any moment, and I wanna get out of here and-”
Chevonne and Leolin wrapped me in their arms; I felt small between them, small and safe and …cherished.
“You saved us; somehow brought us back to life…” I wasn’t sure which of them spoke; I was so thrilled they were alive. “We won’t forget, Shauna. Ever.”
XII. Saturday October 30 noon, somewhere beneath Beacon Hill, Boston
When you read the history of the Sidhe, or Fair Ones, (or l'histoire mythique de l'Irlande et des Tuatha Dé Danann, if you want to be pompous), you learn after the Sons of Mil invaded Eire, the Danaans retreated ‘under the hills’.
When my Mam told stories of these times, I figured the Danaans went to some magical underground kingdom where they feasted night and day on endless plates of meat and rivers of ale.
Perhaps they once did, but in 21st century Boston, the fair folk literally carved a vast subterranean compound beneath Beacon Hill. Chevonne told me the Danaans have, over time, inserted themselves into positions of power within human society. And why not? With their glamour and magical abilities, they were born for politics.
Turns out, the massive billions in cost overruns for the Big Dig (or Big Dug, I guess, now it’s finished) were due to the secret construction of the Danaan sanctuary.
To be more precise, the official highfalutin name of this underground palace is the ‘Prelacy of the Great Mother’. Chevonne promised to explain the title, but so far that riveting chat hasn't happened.
Equipped with secret entrances to roads and the Charles River, the facility was massive, even including its own underground tunnel and rail system:
More jaw-dropping? The complex’s integration of tech with magic. So, an example — how about HD security monitors lining the art deco vaulted corridors, but otherwise the cavernous place was lit by green glowing fairy lanterns; think fairy-techno -steampunk.
I’d spent the last hour pacing the room we were locked in. That’s right, locked in. When we arrived, they whisked Leolin away for a debriefing with his fellow Knights, and herded us into our cell, er, I mean, room.
Though the sanctuary guards who escorted us said this was a precaution for my safety, I felt under arrest.
At least Chevonne was here; though I still fumed they’d taken á€ine to give her a brief magical security scan. That was two hours ago.
“I’d tell you to stop pacing, but you look so damned cute, my heart wouldn’t be in it.”
“Arrrgh!”
You heard me; ‘arrrgh’ was my witty retort. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
“What is taking so long with á€ine?” I more whined than spoke. “And why are they discussing my future without me present? Something’s wrong.”
Another reason I assumed I was under arrest? These Boston Danaans subjected Chevonne and I to a battery of ‘inspections’ to ensure we were free from human or Fomorian pathogens. We were poked, prodded, dusted and showered. They didn’t allow us to wear our ‘street’ clothes either; issuing us instead white ugg boot things and virginal white dress-smocks. So Chevonne’s 'cute' remark baffled the hell out of me; these duds were fuggly.
“If you ask me, these burlap sacks are another way to keep us from bolting. Can you imagine running around outside dressed like this?”
“Burlap?” Chevonne said, her eyebrows arching. “Are you crazy? These are top of the line fairy dresses.”
Fairy dresses, hey? Was she seeing something I wasn’t when she gazed on ‘cute’ little me? I tried imagining a fairy gauzed me:
I shook my head, trying not to spiral into the creepy zone of getting turned on by an image of my new self.
As a short-timer female, my style sense was woefully deficient, but I wasn’t that fashion stupid to think what I wore resembled a ‘fairy dress’. I walked to Chevonne and touched her arm, producing the same bell vibration I had in the forest. She blinked as she looked first at me, then herself.
“Those assholes! They glamoured me. I am so going to fry their asses.”
The young priestess officially moved from annoyance at our treatment to outright anger. Her rage paused a moment though, as a something occurred to her.
“How …did you do blow away the illusion like that, and back in the forest too, with Ldul. How?”
The answer had something to do with a god who claimed me as his daughter, but I did not want to think about what it meant; change of subject time.
“More importantly,” I answered, “why aren’t you in some conference room with these folks planning how I get my body back from Darcy?”
“Because they are," Chevonne rolled her eyes, "FOGM priests and priestesses, and I am merely a quaint and rustic follower of Danu.”
“Huh?”
“Two religious factions have developed in the our world, the FOGMs , or Followers of the Great Mother, and traditionalists like May, Tam and me, who follow the Old Ways,” the red-head explained. “As you see, the FOGMs are heavy into integrating modern technology with Danaan magic.”
“And that’s why you’re locked here with me, because you are not a card carrying Mother F- follower?”
“Pretty much,” Chevonne said. “We think the FOGMs are diminished and have lost their way, while they call us antiquated rubes.”
“And the Fianna Knights?” I was struggling with my crash course in Danaan politics, “how do they fit in?”
Chevonne shrugged. “Sworn protectors of all Danaans, but as their main North American garrison is here, they know who butters their bread."
Peachy. My twisted path to my old body now became more muddled by alien politics. I started pacing again.
When I’d lapped the room for the jillionth time, Chevonne grabbed me.
“Just stop, okay? You’re making me tired watching you. Relax. You are safe; you can breathe out.”
“But shouldn’t they be teaching me about doing the Samhain ritual and-”
“-You tested clean; no Fomorian taint. Whatever you did in the woods knocked it out.” She took my hand. “Please. Tell me what you did, and …what happened after I …died.”
No! It was one thing to see magic and yet another to be part of a miracle. I would. Not. think about it.
To her point, I was cleansed, pure, after drinking from the Dagda’s cauldron; I felt it. No need for Tam’s purification ritual for me. Only one tiny minor detail to fix.
“I’m STILL in the wrong body! Have them bring ‘Sean’ here; surely these folks can de-taint his soul so we can switch-”
I couldn’t talk anymore, because the red-headed priest locked her lips onto mine. Not a platonic peck either, a heavy tongue action smooch.
“H-ey,” I warbled, when she let me come up for air. “What’s that for?”
“From the moment you switched with Darcy, you’ve been pissed, scared out of your mind, in a coma, or fleeing for your life. You haven’t had a moment to enjoy this body,” Chevonne said, and brushed the hair from my face. “I’m going to remedy that.”
“Wait! Erm, What about Sarah? You remember her; the woman I’m going to marry? I shouldn’t-”
“-Going to marry? Sweetie, you are married to her. And whattuya think Darcy -as you-and Sarah are doin right now? Ten to one they’re making the Beast with Two Backs. Now shush so we can get busy doing what Danaans do best.”
“I don’t think they-”
She shut me up again with a kiss, and based on the zing of this one, her first had been a warm up. I mean, holy crap! I found myself sprawled on a couch and looking up into her sparkling green eyes. Her hands were already under my dress and cupping my …my breasts …and …I didn’t mind one bit.
Until I heard someone clear his throat. We turned, to see a Danaan bureaucrats, Tulcuhr or something, standing in the doorway.
“I so hate to bother, but if you have the time, the Council is ready to see you now.”
XIII. Saturday October 30 1PM, Danaan Sanctuary corridor to the Great Hall
At last! We’re off to see the Powers That Be of this place. Hopefully that meant arranging for Darcy's butt to be dragged here for Samhain to work a purification ritual on her soul and then switch back into my old body.
I knew by now my life would never go back to the ‘normal’; clearly, á€ine and I had business together. But that didn't mean Sarah couldn't be part of it too. Sarah had never been keen on my playing as a career -though she loved hearing me play- but when she saw how powerful á€ine and I now played, I was sure she would be supportive. Right?
Chevonne and I merited a full guard escort, which included a half dozen Fianna Knights, in full regalia, and another dozen Sanctuary guards.
Oddly enough, the Sanctuary guards dressed in plain white shirts and pants; the same drab cloth as the smocks Chevonne and I wore.
The Fianna men and women, on the other hand, were dazzling, all brimming with sashes, ribbons and medals. In fact, walking with them through the retro sanctuary halls lit by fairy glow lamps gave the whole affair a parade feel. It reminded me of the scene where Dorothy and her companions went to see the Wizard of Oz for the first time, with me as Dorothy.
Er …let’s hope not.
“Don't you look like the image of a Danaan princess, fairy gauze and all.”
I looked left to see Leolin falling into step with us. It took a moment to work out the fairy gauze compliment.
He's glamoured too; how odd for Danaans to be susceptible to their own illusions. Or maybe they like it that way, spicing things up.
“You clean up nice too.”
He did; he looking handsome in his-
Holy crap! First I have a go at Chevonne and now I'm getting starry-eyed by a Knight in uniform? What was it with these Danaan bodies and their libidos? I needed to get back to my own body fast.
“Sooo, what's going on, Leo? Can I count on the Council setting all right?”
“I don't know,” Leolin growled. “They've grilled me ever since we arrived, barely cutting me loose to accompany you to the meeting. I expect them to help you, Shauna. It's the least they can do.”
My spirits lifted knowing we three were together again; Leo to my left and Chevonne to my right. I'd let them argue about who was Scarecrow and Tin Man. Looks like we were short one Cowardly Lion, though, and as for-
-Don't you dare call me Toto, Shauna.
á€ine! Where are you?
In the Council Room. If one more of these oafs touches me, I'll garote him with a string.
I could see massive ebony doors ahead; gotta be the place.
Shauna? Hurry! I miss you.
Miss you too! I did! My arms were empty without her.
Also, make sure Chevonne holds your hand; otherwise it'll be embarrassing when she is 'awed' by these charlatans.
Charlatans? That didn't sound good.
I turned to the fiery priestess. “Chevonne, would you ...hold my hand?”
She clasped it. “Aw sweetie, I know this overwhelming, but they should be able to help-”
She stopped when she saw my expression. “But you aren't scared; there’s another reason you wanted to touch me.”
“Yup.”
“More glamour,” she hissed. “Ya know, after the switch, you were the wide-eyed one as I introduced you to the world of magic. Now it's you who’s all mystic and mysterious.”
"Turnabout's fair play, hey?” I said, with a little grin.
“Personally,” Chevonne said, “I think it sucks.”
I knew the drill. I'd seen the Lord of the Rings so many times I could recite the lines before the actors did. ‘The battle of Helm’s Deep is over; the battle for Middle Earth is about to begin.’ ‘Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?’ Or best, ‘But it is not this day! This day we fight!’
Yeah, I pretty much knew em all. Worse, as a teen, I’d read the Hobbit and the Trilogy over and over and over and before that, Mam read the stories to me the way other kid’s parents might read the bible to them. I was still pissed at Peter Jackson for leaving Tom Bombadil out of the movies.
So this must be the part of this adventure where I’d be awed by the Fair Danaans. Marching into the Council Chamber, I expected the men to look like Elrond and women Galadriel.
Sure, I’d been around the Danaan for days now; I knew they didn’t have pointy ears. But this moment, I was deep in a sanctuary rivaling the Dwarves Keep of Khazad-dum...
You really are a geek at heart, Shauna.
Um, thanks, for noticing, á€ine; always great to be insulted by one's harp.
Anyway, when I walked in, the architecture didn’t disappoint; the vaulted gothic ceiling was amazing; I could only imagine what part of Boston stood above it. But was it ...too amazing? It made the Danaans in the Council Chamber look all the more stark.
Don’t get me wrong, they, each of the twenty or so people seated around me, were striking. All Danaans were blessed with a streak of inhuman beauty. But these …less so. And all here wore garb as plain as the smocks Chevonne and I were in.
“They think to mesmerize us with a clothes glamour? This is messed up,” Chevonne whispered. “I might not be a high level priestess, yet, but I can do more than illusion.”
I didn’t know what to make of that; Chevonne spoke with disdain.
“We thank you, Priestess Séarlait; we would question our guest, so please take a seat.”
Priestess Séarlait? Who’s that?
Chevonne! It is not hard to imagine you were a man two weeks ago; only a clueless male would have spent so much time with someone and failed to ask her full name.
Thanks for your vote of support, á€ine.
I scanned the room to find her; one of the guardsmen guraded her in the back of the room. My hands ached to hold her. Then a thought ecked into my brain:
Wait! Do you have a surname?
Gods, you’re an idiot. I do indeed have a second secret name. But now is not the time for the learning of it. Ask for Chevonne to act as your Breitheamh.
The Guards had led Chevonne, Leolin and I into the center of a circle of twenty or so throne chairs. The other Fianna knights stopped at the chamber entrance; as Leolin claimed his continuing mission was to protect me, he insisted he accompany me in the meeting.
Men and women, sat high upon those chairs, staring down at me; standing behind them —and occasionally whispering in their ears- were another two dozen bureaucrat types. This felt more like an inquisition than …I don’t know …a body unswitching planning session?
*ahem* “I request Priestess Séarlait,” I gave Chevonne a sideways glance —Chevonne Séarlait, how cool a name is that?- “act as my ... erm, Breitheamh.”
Chevonne nodded her approval of my words, while the corps of bureaucrats sprang into action; their whispers became a symphony. The woman seated in the chair directly in front of me looked surprised.
“You wish her to act as your lawyer?”
"As my advisor."
The woman -the leader of the meeting I'd now guessed- stared at me long before she lowered her eyes.
"As you wish," she said. "Guards, bring chairs for Shauna Deirbhile and Priestess Séarlait."
"One chair; I will stand," Chevonne said.
I thought it would be odd to sit while she and Leolin stood, but as soon as I was seated, with one on my left and the other on the right, it felt natural, as if this was how it should be. I only lacked á€ine.
I wasn't sure how this meeting was supposed to begin -introductions would have been nice- so I decided to jump right in.
"When can I expect you to bring Darcy Caroline here to switch bodies with me?"
The bewildered look returned to the leader's eyes. "Why on earth would we do that?"
What? Maybe I misheard her. “Because …this isn’t my body for starters? I was switched to save a Danaan girl from death, or worse, and-”
“-It is obvious to all, you are the person whom the Fomor prophecy predicted, not Darcy Caroline. Your examination showed off the chart magic levels; we have Darcy’s levels recorded in our data base and they aren’t even close. Your harp is an artifact of incalculable power, for it is clearly the instrument of the Dagda himself. I suspect our glamour affects you not at all; am I correct?”
“Glamour? What glamour,” Leo growled.
“Shauna, would you,” Chevonne motioned with her head to the warrior. I reached over and touched him, feeling the same vibration I’d felt with Chevonne.
The warrior blinked, scanned the room, and turned fiery red in his face. “It is by law forbidden to use glamour against the Fianna!”
“Yes, yes, and I am sure you shall file a grievance, Sir Peredur,” the woman waved dismissively, before she returned her gaze to me. “Do you deny any of what I’ve said, Shauna Deirbhile?”
So Leo’s last name is…
Focus, Shauna! Things are not as they seem.
Who are these people, á€ine?
An assortment of high ranking dignitaries of this place. The two who matter are Rhonwen Davis, the one who has been speaking, and the man seated next to her, Lachlan Donohue. She is High Priestess of the Followers of the Great Mother, and he is Prince-elector of Boston.
“High Priestess Davis, Prince-elector Donohue: two weeks ago I knew nothing of your world…
Not true, Shauna, you mother taught you; you chose to forget.
Hush, á€ine.
…and I feel like a boat at sea in a hurricane, tossed from wave to wave, with water pouring in over the sides. Anything I know of this prophecy, I’ve learned in the last 24 hours. I do not want to stay in this body! I have a life to live. Priestess Caroline would like her daughter returned as well; she, Chevonne and others were preparing me for this when I was forced to run for my life. So please. I’m asking. I’m begging — give me back my life.”
Chevonne murmured “well said,” after I finished, but Rhonwen and Lachlan, a man with a pinched face and dark eyes, looked unmoved.
“I’d like to think your naíveté is an act, but you truly don’t get it. All indications are the Formorian prophecy is correct. You are the Dagda’s daughter, and upon your initiation into Danu’s rites, you will rise into the fullness of your power as a demi-goddess…”
Did he say demi-goddess, á€ine?
You are not a demi-goddess…
Well thank heavens for that because-
You are more.
More? More what? Now I was truly scared.
“So you see,” Rhonwen smiled at me, the crookedness of it marring her exquisite Danaan beauty, “you are not useful to us returned to your male body. But as Dagda’s Daughter, you are a force to be used against the Fomors, or perhaps a bargaining chip?”
“That must be my cue to commence the negotiations for the girl,” a cloaked man said, approaching Rhonwen and Lachlan. He lowered his hood:
When Leolin recognized the Fomor, he drew his sword from behind his back and shouted,“Farve! You die!”
Rhonwen rose from her chair. “Stand down, Knight. The Formorian is our guest and here by our invitation.”
“His people have been trying for days to kill Shauna, by poison, force and flame,” Leolin shouted, leveling his sword at the Fomorian mage. “I will not stand down.”
The Fomor sorcerer’s expression was cool as he turned to Rhonwen and Lachlan. “Have you considered my proposal? It is, by any estimation, fair.”
Chevonne stepped forward. “What proposal?”
Lachlan gave a dismissive wave. “We are weighing the value of allowing Shauna Deirbhile to achieve the fullness of her power, versus the peace treaty and 100 year tithe the Fomors have offered.”
“You mean to turn Shauna over to our enemies? This is treason,” Leolin roared.
Shauna, I need to be in your hands, á€ine said.
I felt it too. “Excuse me, but I should like to have my harp returned to me.”
“No!” Farve said, the first troubled look showing on his face. “Do NOT allow it.”
“Perhaps I will,” Rhonwen said, grinning. “Your offer appears …light …to us.”
Farve rolled his red eyes. “I feared our negotiations would be thus. I have told you how important it is to my people that this one not live, but perhaps you do not fully understand our commitment to this cause. Amassed outside your walls is a strike force so powerful, that your defenses will be swept aside in minutes. If you agree to our terms, we will honor the treaty. If not, we attack. Either way, she dies.”
Lachlan’s jaw dropped. “You would risk exposing our races to the humans over this?”
“We would risk everything! If Cethlenn’s prophecy comes true, our race is doomed. She must not live!”
I could see their decision on their faces: they did not think the Fomor bluffed, and they would turn me over to them.
It is time, á€ine said. Call me.
I knew what she meant; I would do as the Dagda had tried.
“Harp, come to me!”
á€ine flew through the air, knocking guards and council members out of the way. My hands closed around her.
“No!” Farve screamed. “Don’t let her play!”
“Guards! Grab her!” Rhonwen ordered.
I knew what to do. I knew.
Ready á€ine?
Always.
And I played a lullaby.
End Part 3
Moon Harper concludes in Part 4.
Moon Harper - Pt 4
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Moon Harper - Part 4
by Armond
No one bothered to mention I’d be signing up for this! I thought becoming a teenage girl would be impossible to deal with. Turns out it’s the least of my worries. With my talking harp á€ine, I can do things no human should be able to. And it scares the crap out of me!
Deal with it Moon Harper, á€ine said. You are Shauna Deirbhile, and this is your time of rising!
XIV. October 29 Saturday 3AM Northbound I-95
No one spoke. No one knew what to say, beyond the perfunctory. á€ine told me where we needed to go, and I passed the information along to Leolin and Chevonne, but past that, silence.
We sped again, in Leolin's Charger, back to Tamsin's grove. No one stopped us. No one followed us; neither Danaan guard, nor Fomor Sorcerer. No one.
When I played my lullaby on á€ine in the Council Chambers, everyone fell into a deep sleep; I alone stood, holding my harp.
I awakened Leolin and Chevonne with a touch, and we left the chamber, to find all the Danaans asleep throughout the Boston Sanctuary. No. One. Moved.
It didn't stop there.
Exiting the sanctuary, we found Boston veiled in slumber. Cars stopped, still in the freeway, their drivers slumped onto steering wheels. No sirens sounded nor buses or trains. No dogs barked or birds flew in the sky. Even the wind slept. Life only resumed after we passed Somerville.
Did I do this?
'Yes,' á€ine answered, 'your Geantrai radiated outward in all directions, bringing slumber to all things. Your power is great.'
The Geantra, the sleeping, one of the three types of Bardic music, along with Joy and Sorrow. And I had used it, hitting Boston like a bomb. I hoped to heaven I hadn't killed anyone.
'No, though you have that power,' á€ine said.
I did? That scared the shit out of me!
Danu knew it would; she was wise to raise you as she did.
“Danu raised me? What do you mean by that?” I blurted.
Chevonne and Leolin stared at me from the front seat. I read their eyes; they feared me. Not the monster in the night terror either; this was awe. And there was a distance between us, which …hurt. In these last days, I'd grown closer to Leolin and Chevonne than I thought possible. We were a team. But now…
“Why do you stare at me like that?”
“Because of what you aren't and what you are,” Chevonne said.
“What I'm not? What's that mean?”
The redhead took a deep breath. “You aren't mortal, Shauna.”
“Bullshit!” What was she saying? What was she calling me? “I'm as mortal as the next guy …er …gal.”
“Are you? Let's review the facts,” Leolin said, with false calm. “You played and sang the greater part of Boston to sleep. You dispel illusion with a touch…”
“…You brought Leo and me back to life,” Chevonne added.
“Yes! Mustn't forget that little fact either,” Leolin said.
“That wasn't me!” I screamed. “The Dagda brought you back to life…”
And there it was, another reminder of the world I had not only been thrown into, but was a central part of. Chevonne and Leolin died. And a being, claiming to be my father, resurrected them. I hadn't done an extensive study or anything, but I was pretty sure those were the kind of things whole religions were founded on. The implications crashed down on me.
“…w-when he came looking for his harp. I took the drink he gave me from his cauldron and gave it to you.”
“The Dagda? The Good God Himself?” Leolin swerved a bit when he took on that news.
The light bulb flashed in Chevonne's face. “The song you sang! You called him - the ruler of the gods below Danu- to you! And you still have your harp. Explain!”
“I …played him a song, and he …let me keep my harp …because he said I was his …daughter.”
My voice trailed away. Shit! I could scream 'why me?' at the top of my lungs, but I couldn't deny what was happening …what I was becoming …any longer.
“His daughter?” Chevonne squealed. “Holy Danu, you are a demi-goddess!”
No you're not, á€ine countered.
“And do you think,” Chevonne pressed, “you will retain your new divine powers if you switch back to your old body?”
á€ine? I held my breath.
You will be powerful as Sean or Shauna.
“Yes, I will,” I said, exhaling. “Why do you ask?”
Chevonne was punching numbers on her cell phone. “Because switching you back may be the best way to avoid a total war between the Danaans and Fomorians. A war we'd both lose, in the end, because the humans will learn of our existence. If you were male again, maybe the Fomors will think their 'Daughter of Dagda' prophecy is unfulfilled and …hello Tam? Chevonne. We're at Defcon 1 here…”
She turned to me. “How long do you think everyone will stay asleep?”
'The enchanted sleep will last but a few hours,' á€ine said. 'When you come into your full power, you can make it last a hundred years.'
I could do that? Why did I have such power? I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to play á€ine again.
Don't speak so! You must! We are bound together!
I shook my head, looked out the window at the predawn gray, and mumbled,
“About three hours.”
Chevonne nodded. “Tam, we have a three hour head start before all hell breaks loose. We need you to bring Darcy back to the grove to-”
She paused. “You did? Thank Danu for your big brain! Gather everyone; we'll be there in..." she turned to Leolin, "What's our ETA?"
"Unless our little miracle worker has another trick up her sleeve, we'll arrive around 10,” the knight answered.
You could you know, á€ine said. You could play a tune to lull time to sleep.
"No, no no!" I beat my head against the car window.
"What? …Sorry, Tam, Shauna was freaking out again." Chevonne said, and paused.
"Eh? Shauna Deirbhile is Sean ...we have lots to tell. Anyway, we can't wait for Samhain; we must invoke the purification ritual now when we get there, and then switch them back."
Chevonne paused again. "I know, but waiting is a no go. We've got an army of angry Fomors nipping at our heels; we must hope there's enough power to..." She stopped, turning to me again. “Do we even need Samhain to cleanse Darcy?”
I didn't answer her. But I had a feeling, even without á€ine telling me. Somehow, I could do it.
I fuzzed out the rest of her call with Tamsin. I kinda heard her tell me when we dashed away, Tamsin had the foresight to lure Darcy back to the farm in case we escaped the Fomors. The priestesses glamoured 'Sean' into thinking he won a free weekend stay at the farm. I snapped out of it more when the red-headed priestess shook me.
"Did you hear me? 'Sean' is there now and ...he's brought Sarah with him."
XV. October 29 Saturday 1PM Tamsin Caroline's farm
“I don't care if the entire Fomorian race is coming, the ritual must start at sunset,” May said, her hands planted on her hips. May's normal hair color -silver- changed to match her determination -granite-.
“Ma'am, the entire Fomorian Nation is coming, at least the North American part of it,” Leolin said. “Our cushion is gone, they will be here soon.”
Once we arrived, Leolin contacted Fianna knights he trusted and learned my 'slumber bomb' wore off around sunrise, which had given us a longer lead than we'd calculated.
Still, time was running out. Leolin's contact said the Fomors fanned out from Boston in all directions to chase us, but the largest group was coming straight for Tamsin's Grove.
Since we arrived, the Danu priestesses and Leolin had been busy, tripling and quadrupling the protection wards around Tamsin's property. Still, no one believed these would keep the Fomors out for long. The Knights also sent a contingent, but Leolin wasn't sure whether their mission was to protect me or 'escort' me back to the Boston sanctuary. The betrayal of the Boston Danaans had shaken his core.
“High Priestess, I beg you, start the ritual now. Try tapping into Shauna's power; from all I've seen, it is astonishing.”
May was unimpressed. "Can she move the sun in the sky to set with her harping? Remember, we are two days from Samhain; I doubt the ritual will work this early. At the least we cannot compromise on the timing, the purification must start at dusk.”
The light shone in Chevonne's eyes again. “Speed the sun, no, but she holds The Dagda's harp; legends say he could play up a winter's storm in summer if he chose. Could she do something like that? To delay the Fomors long enough for the ritual and soul switch spell?”
Eyes turned to me; Tamsin, May, Siofra, Gwyneth and the rest of the Danu priestesses, and to my left and right, Leolin and Chevonne. Each looked to me with …hope?
What was this thing I'd become to them?
Whatever, my heart wasn't in it; when we'd first arrived, I ran to find Sarah. Tamsin tried to stop me; telling me 'Sean' and Sarah were treating this free weekend as a mini honeymoon. She said they'd gone for a 'long walk' in the woods. I didn't take the hint.
I should have; when I found Darcy in my old body and Sarah, they were not walking:
I hid behind a tree and watched; spied on my own body kissing my lover. They looked so happy.
More than that, they …held each other as lovers do - intimate and possessive. I searched my brain to remember Sarah holding me that way …and I couldn't.
I crept away so they wouldn't hear me -not that they would have heard an elephant crashing through the woods, as wrapped together as they were- and stumbled back to Tamsin's house.
I didn't know how to process it, and had been dazed since. My focus in the frenetic crazy days since my switch was to get back to my life with Sarah, but …was she happier with Darcy?
It was selfish vanity I know -the Fomor devils were coming to kill me, and everyone standing with me was at risk- but when I returned to Tam's house, I ran to Darcy's room, slammed the door, and cried. There I stayed until Chevonne and Gwen dragged me out to meet with everyone.
“Well, Shauna Deirbhile?” Chevonne said. “Can you call a winter's storm on The Dagda's harp?”
I shook my head, a futile gesture to push my depression away. “She's my harp, not his. I can call …something. But you saw what happened in Boston…”
The news reports showed no one died. Thank Danu. The media and public authorities were scrambling for an explanation; the current theory on CNN was a major gas leak.
“…so I might bring down a new ice age.”
Chevonne and Leolin took my hands and led me to where I'd left á€ine. I'd been afraid to touch her since Boston.
But when I did, I sighed with relief.
About damn time you picked me up again.
I'm sorry …I didn't …I
Shauna, I understand how much has been thrust on you in so short a time. Let go of your worries for now, and let us play.
Can I do as they ask?
Of course. You are Shauna Deirbhile.
“Shauna? “ Chevonne said. “Do you have a song to bring a winter storm?”
“Not sure,” I said. “I have a McKennitt piece called Snow. Let's see what happens.”
I plopped down cross-legged on the cold brown grass, and played.
A snowflake licked my face when I finished. Looking up, I saw the sky gray with clouds. Soon, a light snowfall blanketed the area, though I wouldn't call it the storm of the century.
Ah well, sometimes ya got it and sometimes ya don't.
Then á€ine giggled. At me. As if I'd said the funniest thing in the world.
“OMG!” Gwyneth squealed. I'd worked out by now that when she said the phrase, it meant, 'Oh My Goddess.' “Look at this!”
She stuck her iPhone under my nose. I squinted, trying to interpret the white swirls and squiggles.
“Thanks, Gwen, er ...great, but what is this?”
“A satellite pic, you moron, showing a freak nor'easter appearing from nowhere. Twitter's gone crazy! You did it! It's blizzarding everywhere in New England but here!”
I looked at the image again, but my brain would not believe the data my eyes sent to it.
á€ine? Tell me this wasn't us!
You see why the Fomors fear you now, yes?
Leolin gave me a hand up, and when I stood, Chevonne wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my forehead to hers.
"Don't be frightened, Shauna, you are amazing; this is what you do."
What does that mean? Was everyone clued into what was happening to me but me?
Only Leolin and Chevonne; they are special to you, á€ine said. You'll see. Hang with me a few more hours, love, we're almost there.
I didn't want to see anything. I wanted my body back. I wanted Sarah back. I wanted her to hold me the way she held Darcy. I wanted...
My snow storm had chilled me; I wanted hot chocolate.
XVI. October 29 Saturday 3 PM Tamsin Caroline's kitchen
The first thing to know is Tam slow cooks her hot chocolate in a crock pot.
Yes, she dumps in Double Dutch Dark cocoa, milk, a glob of maple syrup, a dash of peppermint extract. She even dollops a homemade marshmallow chunk on top. But it's slow cooking that's key. I'd tell The Dagda to put this elixir in his cauldron next time I saw him. It was so damn velvety smooth, I insisted á€ine switch places with me so she could experience heaven. It sent her into cocoa delirium.
Mmmmm. You can switch places with me any time, Shauna Deirbhile, if I can drink this!
I sat alone in Tamsin's kitchen, wrapped in a blanket, looking out the window at swirling white flakes. Leolin patrolled the property looking for breaches in the wards, while Chevonne and the Danu priestesses sat in the living room, preparing for Darcy's cleansing ritual.
I could have joined them, to hear how it would go, but I think I scared the crap out of them, all save Tamsin. Even Gwen was now afraid of me; Tam would have been too, I expect, if I wasn't in her daughter's body.
Why wouldn't they be? By all reports, I conjured a blizzard that halted traffic in Maine, New Hampshire and Massachusetts. Once more I prayed no one died from what I'd done.
No one will, Shauna, because you did not intend so, á€ine said.
I know you mean to comfort me, love, but that scares me more.
I used words like love with á€ine now without thinking, as did she in return, and I wondered at this. It was like …after all my years, I was remembering a greater part of myself. Our self.
“That smells wonderful! You wouldn't have any extra, would you?”
Speaking of lovers, there Sarah stood; she'd stepped in through the back kitchen door, and snowflakes still covered her hair. She had thrown on a blue sweater I'd bought her last Christmas and her scratchy white mittens I always gave her crap about.
“You bet; all part of the Caroline farm experience.” I jumped up, poured her a huge mug, tossed in a 'mellow, and handed it to her. For as dear as she clutched the mug, it could well be The Dagda's life giving brew.
“Good God, this is amazing.”
I nodded, but didn't answer. I wanted her to savor it, and, I didn't know what to say.
Don't get me wrong; I wanted to say so many things, like 'hey, it's me in here, your real lover Sean', or 'I love you and miss you, Sarah.' Or reach over and smack a kiss on her. But I couldn't; she'd think me insane!
After a good minute of 'mmm's and 'ah's, she glanced up from her steaming mug.
“You're Darcy, right? Sean said he met you when he was here the other weekend.”
Darcy. That's who she'd think I was. I had so many names swirling around my head, it was hard to keep track.
One name alone matters, Shauna Deirbhile, á€ine said.
When I looked over at her in the kitchen corner, Sarah followed my eyes and saw á€ine.
“How weird; your harp looks identical to Sean's. Do you play?”
“A little.” I motioned for her to sit in a chair at the kitchen table and I took one too. “So Sean plays the harp?”
“Um hmm,” She said, without enthusiasm. “Though not so much since he returned from his stay here the other night.”
Interesting. “So where is your …fiancée?”
“My hubby; we just married. He's in the barn house, taking a nap, the wuss. He wanted to be fresh for this …bonfire Tamsin invited us to this evening? Weather permitting.”
Ah! That's how Tam pitched it; she'd stuck to plan. And then I couldn't stop my mouth from flapping. “Why did he need a nap?”
“Because,” Sarah whispered leaning forward, “I've been wearing him out.”
The expression of my lover at that moment was the most joyous I'd seen on her, ever.
My eyes watered, so I looked away to the window; I didn't want her to see me breaking down.
“You love him then?” I choked.
She reached across the table to grab my hand. “So much. Two weeks ago, I thought we were finished; Sean seemed paralyzed; he couldn't commit. To me, to his job, to anything. Anything except his harp playing, but he was trying to give that up for me.”
“Did you …want him to give it up?”
“I admit I wasn't ecstatic over his 'harp love' but I recognized how much it, or she, was part of him. So no, I didn't want him to. He was so torn up, though, I thought he would be unable to commit. So I told him we should call off the wedding.”
I nodded. She told me some of this, but not the part about recognizing how important á€ine was to me.
“But then …when he returned from here …something changed?”
Her face brightened. “Oh yes! He was different, like another person, and we clicked like never before.”
Danu! She loves Darcy in a way she never did with me!
“I've never heard you talk this way be-” Stop. Think. She doesn't know you in this body. “So, you're happy, hey? And you'll start a family? Kids and all?”
“When Sean wakes, I'm going to thunk his head; he called you a dour bratty teen. You're anything but! And our stay here has been fabulous; sooo romantic. Sean and I made a pact to try to come here every year for our anniversary. Since you feel like family, I'll share.”
Sarah leaned back in her chair, flicked back her reddish hair and looked around to see if anyone was listening. Then she leaned forward and whispered,
“We've stopped using contraceptives. You do know what I'm talking about, right? Teens these days know this stuff way before they're teens and …sorry, I'm babbling. But the point is, we're trying.”
Children. Sarah wanted a family. And we'd never spoken about it. Oh, she'd hinted, but that was all.
“Oh, no,” She said. “By the look on your face, I've over shared.”
I waved her off, pretending I hadn't been slammed by her words, but my mouth flapped again before my brain could stop it.
“Ya know I'd hoped someday we'd …I'd …have kids, when I was ready. It's not like I didn't want them, but-”
“-Aw sweetie, I understand. You're what, 17? It's scary! I thought the same way when I was your age. But I'm ten years older than you and it's time. You'll know when it's right …when the right one comes along.”
“I'm …so happy for you.” I tried -tried- to say it with conviction. But my heart screamed otherwise, because I was going to get my body back, and it would be not Sarah's and Darcy's dream, but Sarah's and mine.
The thought should thrill me right? Part of me was, but there was another side of me that, ya know, felt like crap at what I would do to them. Why was I thrust into this position? I didn't ask for any of this!
“Look! The clouds are clearing,” Sarah said. “Not much daylight left; I'd better go wake Sean for the bonfire. Tam said it happens at dusk, right? What can we expect? It sounds a bit more than roasting marshmallows.”
I looked out the window to see a cold autumn sun nearing the gray horizon; almost show time. What was the script we'd come up with? I cleared my throat and launched into it.
“While we are doing this a couple of days early -because you can't be here for the real night- Halloween, or Samhain, is the beginning of the Celtic new year. It's the time of winter; days grow shorter and darkness longer. So Tam and her friends celebrate by building a big bonfire; our wish to the sun to come back soon.”
Cool,” Sarah said. “I like it. Anything else we should know? Do we have to say anything?”
I shook my head. “The bonfire is meant to welcome good spirits. It's also a …purification rite; in olden days farmers circled the fire with their livestock to remove sickness and disease, for a prosperous new year. All you and …Sean …have to do is stay toasty warm under thick blankets, and down more of Tam's kick ass hot chocolate. Except this batch will have peppermint schnapps in it.”
She laughed. “Ohhh yeah, we can do that. This sounds wonderful! Well, I'd better go wake sleepyhead so he can get ready.”
She set her cup down and walked to the kitchen door; turning to me before she left.
“Bonfire. I bet the word comes from the French 'bon', or good. This will be romantic; I'm so happy we won this weekend stay here. I couldn't think of a better place to be in the world. See you in a few. Someone will come get us right?”
I nodded and gave her a goodbye wave. I could have corrected her, and told her the name comes from the practice of Celtic farmers of throwing the bones of their dead livestock into the fire as a sacrifice to their gods, so it's not bonfire but 'bone-fire'. Worse, I could have told her an army of night terrors was coming, creatures who would cheerfully throw our bones -and the screaming rest of us- into a raging fire.
Could have, but I didn't. I mean, soon, this all could explode apart in the bloodiest of ways; what was the harm in letting Sarah hold onto her romantic notions for a little while longer?
No, I kept my mouth shut, and after she left, I grabbed á€ine and fled to Darcy's room. There I crawled into bed, and pulled the covers over my head. My goal was to push the images -of Sarah's face lit from the thought of raising a family with Darcy, and of the two lovers kissing under the autumn leaves- far far from my mind.
I failed.
XVII. October 29 Saturday 6 PM Tamsin Caroline's Holy Grove
“Breath of Life, Element of Air, Guardian of the East, we call you!” May said, facing eastward with arms raised to heaven. As she spoke, a breeze blew through the oak branches of the grove.
A full moon rose on the eastern horizon, as the sun set to the west. A blood moon.
May said we were two days early for Samahin, but I swear I heard faraway voices. Not distant, but separated? Make no sense, I know.
The walls between the realms are always thin for such as you, Shauna, á€ine said. You hear home.
Home. There's a concept. Where was a 'home' for 'such as me'? I sighed.
“Passion's Flame, Element of Fire, Guardian of the South, we call you!”
The bonfire, already crackling, roared in answer to May's call. 'Sean' and Sarah sat entranced near the warm blaze; glassy-eyed and glamoured by the Danu priestesses. For all I knew of the illusion spells they were under, they did see this as a s'mores party. May moved past them to the next 'Quarter.'
“Deep Well of Wisdom, Element of Water, Guardian of the West, we call you!”
A mist rose and cascaded before the High Priestess. I sat with á€ine in hand and soaked it up, no pun intended. For all my crash training at the beginning of this adventure, I was sidelined for this part of the ceremony, as The Dagda's brew cleansed the Fomor corruption from Darcy's -my- body. Tonight's second spell, the soul switching, was what I longed for. But first they needed to cleanse Darcy's soul. May walked to the final Quarter.
“Bountiful Green, Element of Earth, Guardian of the North, we call you!”
Golden leaves floated down to her as she lowered her arms. The priestesses turned as one to the moon, hanging low and large on the horizon. Together they chanted,
Hail Danu, Lady of the Moon! Hail Great Mother! We ask you to join us in this sacred circle! Bless us in our work tonight!”
In answer, the moon drew closer! But if the priestesses saw, they didn't act like it; moving to the next part of the cleansing ritual.
They didn't, Shauna, only you.
Why, á€ine? Why can only I see it?
Let us speak of sound, not sight, hmm, Moon Harper? Do you recall the trick Tam taught you to activate the elements?
Sure, I nodded, and remembered associating different strings -and my sound board - with air, fire, water, and earth. Why?
Imagine taking it farther, love, á€ine said. Imagine not only the elements, but all things in creation, having a unique vibration, each with its own string.
Yes! How simple! It clicked.
Though the priestesses spoke the words of the cleansing ritual, I heard each's vibration energy. Tam's, May's, Gwen's, each with her own signature wave length.
It didn't stop there, wave patterns surrounded me, of trees, rocks, sky, and, I knew …I knew …which stings on á€ine to pluck to match them, harmonize with them or change them.
á€ine! I can… I can…
Yes, Shauna Deirbhile, Yes, Daughter of Inspiration, You can create. You can destroy.
But why tell me this now? Why not yesterday or-
Listen! They are failing! They have not the power! You must save Darcy!
I tuned back into the priestesses' ceremony. Tamsin was speaking, and sounded desperate.
“Under the moon, in this place of magic, again Danu we beg you, cleanse this soul from corruption!”
At her words, my old body lurched forward; 'Sean' grabbed his stomach …and screamed. Blood foamed from his mouth.
The priestesses broke their circle ranks and flew to him, but didn't know what to do. Chevonne alone stood back, bowed her head, and whispered:
“Under the moon, in this place of magic, Shauna Deirbhile, I beg you, cleanse this soul from corruption!”
She spoke the same invocation as Tam, only using my name in place of Danu. Why?
Don't waste time! á€ine said. Do it, or your old body dies.
Once more, I lifted á€ine into my arms.
There! The soul dissonance was there
Tied to the rhythm of his heart. Resonating discord with each beat.
It's subtle, á€ine said. The dissonance amplified when the priestesses attempted Darcy's initiation before, and again just now with the cleansing.
How do you …where do you start with something like this? I asked á€ine. Wouldn't it fight what I could do just as much as it resisted the Danu priestesses' magic?
You don't fight it, you resolve it.
Resolve it? Fight, resolve, á€ine was parsing words here.
How do you resolve dissonant chords, luv?
Duh! With consonant chords!
But nothing overwhelming, your song must be subtle in response, á€ine said. Play, Shauna Deirbhile, heal Darcy's soul.
Play what? The solution came after a few moments. It would take some pretty cool harmonics, huh?
After the last note from á€ine’s strings quieted, Sarah shook off her illusion trance.
“Sean? Oh, God what’s wrong? Talk to me!”
Darcy raised my old body, blinked, and then hugged Sarah before drawing back.
“I'm okay, luv, I …I feel, hmm, the best I have in a long time!”
In a hurried move, May waved her wand over 'Sean' and Sarah and murmured words; the couple turned glassy-eyed again and drifted back into their 'warm bonfire' illusion. Then the High Priestess strode over to me with a relieved Tamsin in tow. Chevonne already stood to my right.
“The taint is gone; you removed it where we could not! Don't misunderstand me -this is wonderful!- but it would have been …” The elder High Priestess was as close to sounding irritated as I'd heard from her. “…nice, if you would have told me you could banish the Fomor corruption with a tune before we went through this exercise, hmm?”
“I …erm …figured it out a minute ago and-”
Leolin came running to us, glowing in his full green Fianna Armor.
“A Fomor force has pushed through the storm and is attacking our wards. Have you finished the cleansing?”
“After a fashion,” May answered. “How long do we have before they break through?”
“A few minutes yet, for we've set many barriers,” the knight answered. “I'd say 15 minutes…”
A loud FOOOM sounded, from beyond the woods.
“Crap! They destroyed an entire circle ward!” Leolin said. “Check what I said; ten minutes at most. Do the switch now!”
May nodded, and started barking orders, while Tamsin took my hands in hers.
“It's time, Sean. You've done more …far more …than I could have imagined for Darcy and me. Thank you.” She kissed me on my cheek. “I promised you we would return you to your body, and so it is time, though life will be greatly changed for you as Sean Deirbhile.
I nodded, and watched as the priestesses realigned in the circle formation they held when I was switched those many days ago.
My body. My life. My Sarah. I couldn't wait!
But listen, luv, to their song, á€ine whispered.
What? Who's song?
Darcy and Sarah's. Together. Listen.
I looked at the couple, arms clasped around each other, the warm bonfire flicker lighting their faces, her head on his shoulder.
Or rather, I listened to the couple; I heard their souls …singing to each other …with each other …harmony and melody trading between them.
Tears welled once more in my eyes and I motioned Tamsin to me. Operating by instinct, I clasped her hands and said, “hear.”
Through my touch, she heard their soul song. Her eyes misted too.
“Oh dear …oh Danu,” she murmured, “they're soul mates.”
She looked in my eyes as her lips quivered. “Darcy is so happy and Sarah …hear her soul's ecstasy! But …it is your body, Sean, your choice. You should switch back, even if…”
Another FOOOM echoed through the grove.
“One circle left,” Leo shouted. “Do this NOW!”
I will love you as Sean or Shauna, á€ine said. Yet I heard the 'but' in her caress.
“No!” I fell to the cold ground and pounded it with my fist. “No no no! I. Can't. Do this to them!”
Chevonne knelt beside me. “You must! To avert a war of annihilation! Switch Shauna!”
“Now!” Leolin added, “for we have no more time!”
Was that right? Even if my conscience screamed how wrong it was to separate these lovers, perhaps I needed to do this for the good of all? But …Chevonne's logic made no sense.
“These are Fomors, Chevonne, trying to avert an ancient prophecy. Do ya think they'll shrug and say, 'oh, you switched 'em back? Well, no worries then.' No, they'll whack us both, Darcy and me, no matter which body we are in.”
“Dammit! That's true!” the redhead growled. “Then what will we do?”
“I'll play another lullaby or-”
“CHILD! COME TO ME!”
When the voice spoke, everything froze. All in the grove were statue still. Not a breath moved. Time stopped. And the moon grew,
larger and larger, until it filled the sky. Until it was so close I could touch it. But I didn't; with á€ine in hand I stepped through.
Because the voice calling to me from the other side was my mother.
Time - nonexistent. Place - somewhere beyond.
Grassy hills under starlight. A soft breeze, tinged with wild flowers, caressed me.
I remember this place! When I was a child, mother brought me here to play, but my memory told me it was a park not …another world.
Childhood memories are always much more, and less, than was true.
At that moment, I realized I wasn't holding á€ine's neck, but someone's hand. I turned to see a woman's face, garlanded in white roses, with the bluest eyes in the universe.
I remembered her; how could I have forgotten? We played here together when I was a child. The other boys laughed at my imaginary 'girl' friend. They wouldn't now; I did not remember her looking this …this…
Sensual?
á€ine's voice sounded like harp strings, if a harp could talk. Okay, that makes no sense, other than to convey a metaphor come to life - her words were music to my ears.
I was going to say you looked hot.
I see. I wish you could see your spirit form, because you do too, Shauna, with your night black hair and chocolate blue eyes. Mmm, chocolate! Why'd you have to introduce me to that vice? Anyway, I did not look as I do when we played; I age to match your age.
Huh? Why was that?
Come, Moon Harper, She waits. Do you remember the way?
I did. When I was a kid, after á€ine and I ran ourselves silly with chasing bugs and throwing rocks, I'd follow the path over the grassy hill. There she'd be, puttering among her flowers. Except …mother was dead, and had been for years.
As we crested the hill, I looked down on a vast meadow garden of red poppies, and bluebonnets, spring beautys and wild roses.
I will leave you for a while; your time with Her should be yours alone, á€ine said. It has been long since I've been here …and had legs …I want to run! See ya!
With that my harp …sprinted away. I never imagined I'd be thinking those words. Go figure.
But then, my breath caught, because I saw a woman there, wearing a floppy hat, tending to some flower. She turned and … and…
It was my Mam!
I fell to my knees, clasped the heels of my hands to my eyes, and wept.
She was quick to my side, singing soothing words; She took my hands from my eyes, and hugged me.
“Aw baby, hush now. Hush my darling.”
These were the phrases she said to me when I was a kid after I'd scraped a knee or elbow. So I cried all the more.
She chuckled. “Shauna. I'm not dead; I am not mortal. And neither are you.”
“But …you died. I buried you!”
“A shadow body.” She shook her head. “As Sean, you were always one to toss out a thousand questions, and I doubt you've changed your ways as Shauna.”
I was about to ask her a question about that, but managed to bite my lip closed.
“Good. First things first. I am not your mother.”
“Wait, WHAT?!”
“Stay calm for another moment, dearest. In all ways that matter, yes, I am your mother; I changed your diapers. I sang you to sleep at night. I picked you up when you fell down. But in point of fact, I am your grandmother; I am Danu, Mother of the Gods.”
Her gray-haired aspect changed; she grew young, and became the woman I knew from our old photo album, except stars sparkled in her hair. Not fake ones; actual stars.
When a normal person meets the Mother of the Gods…
Wait? Did I just say 'when a normal person meets the Mother of the Gods?' Did I really?
I sighed; and shook my head. How had I come to this?
…anyway, said average person, upon meeting said Creatrix, would, I expect, have a natural propensity to fall to the ground, and jam his or her head into the earth as deep as possible.
Me? Remember, it was She who spanked me when I repainted our kitchen walls with blueberry yogurt. She was the only mother I'd known.
“Okay. This is me, taking a deep breath, and being patient for an explanation.”
Danu smiled at me, and when she did, the stars in the sky grew brighter.
“You, showing patience? What miracle is this? It's your new feminine perspective, yes? I should have switched The Dagda millennia ago; it would have saved the universes so much trouble.”
We sat in her garden of flowers, under a vast canopy of twinkling stars; I laid my head into her lap. She was my mother no matter what the relation.
But, that raised a question.
“The Dagda is your son and my father?” When she nodded, I said. “So I'm demi-god …er, goddess?”
“Demi-nothing!” She shook her head. “Your Mother is Rhiannon, goddess of Inspiration and the Moon. The literal translation of 'Deirbhile' is Daughter of Inspiration, Moon Harper. You are 100% pure grade goddess.”
Told ya! á€ine yelled from somewhere. You couldn't come here, to the gods' Realm of Beyond, unless you were.
Rhiannon? But why didn't she raise me? “Explain.”
“Your father you've met. Immense power, big hearted and a bit of an oaf and airhead; just ask á€ine. Your mother -lovely goddess; you must meet her soon- had all that bother with her first son, Pryderi. When he was born, she managed to lose the lad, and caused a ruckus that wasn't cleared for years. So, neither your mother or father could be called good parenting material.”
That made a certain amount of sense. “You stepped in and raised me? Because you didn't want me to be neglected?”
When She nodded, another question sprang up -She was right about me; I had an infinite supply of them-.
“Why did you raise me-”
“-In the earthly realm, rather than here, or the Summerland Realm, or any of the other ten thousand realms?”
“Y-yeah.” Holy crap! Ten thousand realms? Were they like, alternate universes?
Don't think on it Shauna; one impossibility at a time.
Hey? You're still listening to my thoughts, á€ine? Why aren't you flitting about?
I don't 'flit', my goddess, and we are joined forever; I share your every thought.
Danu smiled. “You have much to learn, daughter of my heart, of the infinite wonders of the universes, and your place in them as a Power. á€ine is your talisman alone. The Dagda borrowed her until your rising. She is your power conduit.”
“What if I lose her?” I said. Because, ya know, gods and heroes were always doing stupid crap like that.
“Not possible, Shauna Deirbhile; were she buried in the center of the earth, if you call her, she will come.”
I considered that; trying to piece together what I'd become. “So she's to me what Mjá¶lnir is to Thor?”
Please! I could kick Mjá¶lnir's ass, á€ine said.
Yeah? I didn't know hammers had asses, á€ine.
Shut up!
“But we digress,” Danu said. “The reason I raised you on earth, is the souls living in that blessed realm are, generation by generation, diminish.”
Diminish generation by generation? If anything, the world seemed more exciting; day by day, some new breakthrough stretches human possibilities further. No, not day by day, minute by minute.
“The Danaans are fading. You heard Tamsin speak of the Summerland realm? Hers may be the last generation to remember the Summerland path. Soon, Danaans will be indistinguishable from humans. You've seen their future, in the 'wondrous palace' beneath Boston.
Yes I had; it was Hans Christian Anderson's The Emperor's New Clothes come to life. All the Boston Danaans has left of magic was illusion.
“The Fomorians, too, have lessened,” Danu continued.
Oh? “I found them plenty powerful; they killed Chevonne and Leolin.”
Danu nodded, but gave me a sad smile. “If you could have seen them before when I birthed them! Now, they are anthropomorphic, becoming more manlike with age. Then, they were rocks and trees and earth come to life! Oh if you could have seen it, Shauna!”
“Isn't this evolution though? And …what's so bad about being human?”
Danu laughed and rubbed my head. “This is why I raised you as I did; you are connected to the world as it is today, in a way your brother gods and sister goddesses are not. Can you envision people 'relating' your father?
I snorted at the image of The Dagda stomping through New York, with his club and cauldron.
“Exactly. No, there is nothing wrong with being human; the works of mortal women and men are wonders to we gods, even. Yet, with each marvelous invention, as all is provided at the press of a button, what room is there for imagination?”
Danu sighed, and looked so worn down; her voice cracked. “My children's souls harden and the earth grows sterile.”
I'd lost her once; I would never do so again! I gripped her shoulders. “How can I help?”
Her face brightened. “You will reach them, Moon Harper, with your music. Music remains the one wonder all mortals still open to. You have the power and compassion. This I saw when you sacrificed your love for Sarah, and gave your old body, so Darcy and Sarah could be together. I dampened your power for as long as I could, hoping your time on earth would allow your compassion for mortals to grow. It has; you know their despair. Help them.”
“You want me to be a savior?”
She laughed and hugged me, and it felt so good to be in her arms. “Heavens no! The world's had saviors by the dozen, with more on the way. No Shauna, no! Bring them wonder! Make their souls sing!”
How would I do that?
By playing me, you dolt, á€ine said. She had wandered over to us and sat beside me.
Danu clasped my face in her hands. “A goddess or god eventually grows beyond the mortal world; with our powers and immortality, the gulf widens as the centuries fly by. Hang onto your connection to the Danaans, Humans and Fomors.”
She ran a hand through my hair. “This young female body was unexpected -who knew one of crazy Cethlenn's prophecies would come true?- but it pleases me, for it will ground you longer. Learn what it is to be a young woman in the world. Be gawky and awkward. Explore! Make mistakes! Stay with the mortals as long as you can so you may sing their souls awake. Play for the world, Moon Harper.”
Play for the world. What a concert that would be!
Not all at once, Shauna, but soul by soul, we will reach them, á€ine said.
How long have you known of this?
She shrugged, and looked amazing doing so, with those piercing blue eyes. I had always held her carefully, but I would do so all the more now.
Since the beginning of time you and I were destined to work wonders, Shauna Deirbhile.
I nodded, understanding at last my true purpose.
But a thought tickled my brain. “Mother, did you say I was to sing to the Fomors too? Last we left them, they were trying their damnedest to, um, off me.
“You are to play for all, daughter, just as I am Mother to all. But …while you should be careful to veil your full goddess aspect -mortals are not equipped to view the infinite- do not be shy in unleashing it as needed. Understood?”
As I nodded, á€ine snickered, oh, this is going to be good!
Danu stood and raised me up. “Return to earth; you have matters to address. Play for them, Shauna, just play!”
She gave me a fierce hug and kiss, then shooed us back up the path. “You know the way back here, come visit an old woman now and again.”
Then, floppy hat in place, she returned to tending her vast garden; which, I had figured out, was much more than a garden.
Hand in hand, á€ine and I walked back up the path and through the moon gate. When we stepped into Tamsin's grove, á€ine returned to 'harp form' in my hand.
All was as we'd left it; all were still frozen. Except, Chevonne and Leolin, who blinked, looked at me, and fell to the ground, prostrate.
“My goddess!” They said in unison. “Let us serve you; we beg you.”
Okay, so, this was awkward.
Deal with it, Moon Harper, you know what to do, á€ine said.
I did. These two were special to me. “Arise my Priest Peredur and Priestess Séarlait!”
After they didn't, á€ine prompted me. Dial back the goddess radiance and they will!
Oops. Forgot. I thought 'mortal Shauna', and the light surrounding me dimmed.
A loud FOOOOM snapped all the Danu priestesses from their trance.
“They've broken the last ward circle!” Leolin shouted, unsheathing his sword. “They are coming now!”
I strode in the direction my priest faced.
“Then let us greet them with a song.”
XVIII. October 29 Saturday 8 PM Tamsin Caroline's Farm
I wouldn't call the army that burst through the woods around Tamsin's farm as intimidating as the evil forces Peter Jackson conjured in the Rings trilogy, but then, Peter's was CGI, and these -trolls, ogres and night terrors- were real.
I swear, Shauna, á€ine said, you must be the geekiest goddess in the heavens.
I'm a goddess, hey? Where's the respect? The reverence?
Dream on.
I sighed; Apollo's lyre never back talked him like this, I was sure. Anyway, the Fomor force of several hundred looked somewhat frosty and bedraggled -my blizzard must have taken a toll- but they were plenty strong to overrun Tam's small crew.
The two leading the motley rabble I recognized: Farve, appearing cold and pissed, and Ldul, who survived, it appeared her Dagda assisted fiery sky trip. She did look singed; half her hair and her eyebrows were missing.
Chevonne's eyebrow -still red and beautiful and very much in place- raised as she saw the Fomor sorceress. And saw her hands rise in fire spell preparation.
“Shauna, I didn't fare so well last time,” Chevonne said, as she raised her shields.
“You are not the same as then,” I said, “you are my priestess.”
She took me on faith, and faced Ldul full blast once more.
Faith turned to knowledge as the flames glanced harmlessly away. A wicked grin crossed her face.
“Oh. My. Goddess,” meaning me, I supposed. “My power level is off the charts! I am so going to kick her butt.”
Chevonne counter attacked, chanting a spell to release a fiery ball of her own. Ldul’s shields held, though not before she was knocked back a good ten yards. The sorceress sat dazed on the frozen ground; blinking.
Farve stepped forward, and conjured a giant frost Cyclops with an incantation. Leolin leaped to engage, and with a thrust of his glowing sword, shattered the creature into thousands of frost shards. By the Fianna war whoop he let fly, I could tell my priest was also enjoying his amped power.
Isn't play time over, á€ine asked.
I agreed. “ENOUGH!”
My voice echoed through the forest and hills; and the Fomors halted their advance.
My fingers moved across á€ine in fast caresses as we spun out the tune Miranda and the Tempest
Angry clouds roiled the skies, and lightning struck in circles around the -now pee in pants terrified- Fomorians.
I walked to where Ldul and Farve crouched. “You and you! Stand! I would talk to you!”
They wobbled to their feet. Ldul -gotta love the gal- she managed to muster a sneer.
“We will fight you Daughter of Dagda. Even though we lose, though we die, we will not go quietly.”
She's more of a drama queen than you, á€ine said.
It seems to me, if a certain harp wanted to switch places to gobble dark chocolate, said harp might manage not to insult me so often.
You are wise and just, goddess; forgive your unworthy servant.
You know what's truly a miracle? How á€ine's voice sounds musical, sexy and sarcastic all at once.
“If I wanted to kill you, Ldul, I could do it now.” I strummed á€ine and lightning flashed over head.
“Then …what do you want? To enslave us? Our own goddess, Cethlenn warned us ages ago that a Daughter of Dagda would come-”
“-To upset the…” I strummed á€ine again for dramatic lightning flash effect. “…balance. Yeah, yeah. But what does that mean?”
“The balance of power,” Farve said, then the albino-eyed mage stopped speaking; and his pale brows furrowed. “But …if you have this much power, then you don't need to 'change the balance'… you could destroy us all with a …why are you here?”
“True, I am here to shake the status quo, among Danaans, Fomors and Humans. Danu has sent me, to all the mortals, to reawaken the song in their souls. She weeps for you and what you have lost.”
“And you will not destroy us?” When I shook my head, the sneer drained from Ldul's face. “Then what will you do?”
I held á€ine up.
“You've come to play?” Farve stammered. “That's it?”
“How can we believe you?” Ldul said.
I dialed up my goddess aspect, and a glow encircled me.
Why would I lie?
The Fomors fell to the ground, as my voice reverbered and echoed.
Cool effect. á€ine said.
Wasn't it? I answered, as I reined in my aspect.
When Farve and Ldul picked themselves up again, they had the cutest expressions of absolute confusion.
“But we tried to kill you,” Ldul said. “Why would you wish to help us?”
“Yes, I'm not thrilled about the 'shoot her on sight' relationship we've had so far, but I understand it. You believed I meant your people harm. And, unlike the Boston Danaans, you've been honest about it, except for what Roth did.” I was still enraged at what that creep had done to poor Darcy.
Farve grinned. “But Roth is not Fomorian. He bumped into you at a nearby local establishment it seems, and saw your resemblance to the description Cethlenn gave in her oracle convulsions. Our mages spent centuries developing a corruption spell to infect the Daughter of Dagda, but we weren't certain how to deliver it. The problem vexed us for eons. Roth offered us the perfect solution when he approached us. He said he gained your complete trust, and offered his services -for a hefty fee- to seduce you and implant it on you through a tattoo.”
As the Fomors were clueless about my switch, I saw no reason to educate them. What I wanted was more information on Roth. “If he wasn't Fomorian, how did he know of the prophecy?”
“Why, some Danaans study our history, just as we study yours.”
“Wait! He's Danaan?”
“Oh yes! And nephew to Prince-elector Donohue.”
I growled, and rapped á€ine's sound board; the earth cracked and groaned in front of us.
“Do me a favor, mage; tell Prince-elector Donohue and his slimy nephew that this goddess is pissed off. You tell 'em I'm comin' ... and Hell's coming with me!”
Oh yes I did! I Kurt Russelled 'em.
I was wrong; you way out diva Ldul.
Thanks á€ine, er, I think. Anyway, we'll let Mr. Stuck Up Prince-elector and toady Roth stew a bit, in their putrid juices.
Do you truly intend to punish them, Shauna? á€ine asked.
To be honest, I don't know. My mission on earth is to inspire, not be an avenging goddess. Yet, what Roth did to Darcy was hideously wrong. I will have to see what I feel when I track them down. They better pray I am in a forgiving mood.
You are the goddess, á€ine said.
Yes, I am.
And I must have taken on my goddess aspect again, because Farve bowed extra low.
“I shall convey your greeting with pleasure.”
“And then what do we do?” Ldul said. “We planned for generations to oppose your arrival. And now? What are we to do, O Daughter of Dagda?”
“Call me Shauna Deirbhile,” I said, with pride. “I am your harper, too. I will come among you, and play..."
Play what, á€ine asked. Have you ever heard Fomorian music?
"...er ...though I know not your songs. Please tell me it's not Death Metal.”
“Death Metal?” Farve's pure white eyebrow arched. “How bigoted of you to think so.”
“Well then, what do you like?”
“Not those stuffy old Danaan love ballads,” Farve groused. “Personally, I am a huge fan of the Dave Matthews Band.”
Ldul managed to look sheepish, if that was possible for the medusa-like sorceress. “I can't get me enough Béla Fleck.”
á€ine snorted, oh this should be interesting.
XIX. Epilogue - October 31, Samhain
To answer the 'what ifs' I raised at the beginning of this journey, I don't know if I had chosen Path B rather than A how different things would be. I do know now my true nature would have surfaced anyway; á€ine and I would have played, no matter what.
Leaving aside Cethlenn's prophecy that points to me becoming The Dagda's daughter instead of his son, I think …I think it misses the point to wonder if I could have avoided becoming a clumsy vulnerable 17 year old girl.
When you are not putting Boston into “Sleeping Beauty slumber” or wishing all a White Halloween with your blizzard or throwing down more lightning bolts than Zeus-
-I get your point, á€ine; I'm not helpless. Still, the question is not 'what if' but 'would I want it otherwise?’ Would I have wanted Darcy to die? For she would have. Or to see Sarah unhappy? I do see she and I could never have been as close as she is with Darcy.
Then why are you mopey, Moon Harper?
Rather than answering, I played another melancholy tune, as I sat beneath a massive oak tree near Tamsin's farm. I'd waved goodbye to 'Sean' and Darcy yesterday, watching them drive away to their amorous intimate lives.
Yeah, and I'd played a summer song, too, dispelling the snowstorm I'd conjured. Also, as a farewell song to the Fomorians, I even tossed out a harp version of Take Five, to show my new fans I played more than 'stuffy old love ballads.' But past that, all I strummed were songs of sorrow. Pitiful.
Yeah, Tamsin tried to cheer me, by saying what a wonderful gift I'd given her 'Sean'; true happiness. And by plying me with gallons of hot chocolate…
Yummmm, soooo good, á€ine moaned.
…but nothing could shake me from the funk I'd-
Honk Honk
A white van rolled to us, and Leolin and Chevonne hopped out. On the side of the van though, um …words escape me:
As I gawked, Leolin sat down on one side of me and Chevonne the other.
“Hi guys. Um, what's with the van?”
“We'll tell you in a moment,” my redheaded priestess said. “For now, we need our goddess to settle a bet.”
“Sure. If I can. What's the bet?”
“Which of us can shake you from your self-pitying swoon,” Leolin said.
“There's no need for this, I just-” Chevonne put a finger to my lips. “Age before beauty Leo; you go first.”
The former knight/now Moon Harper priest, straightened his golden hair, took me in his arms, leaned me down to the ground, and kissed me.
…and kissed me.
…and kissed me.
“I …I …I…”
I want some of that candy, á€ine purred. Gimme gimme gimme!
It took a moment to breathe again and open my eyes. When I did, I was greeted by the smuggest look on Leolin's face.
“Beat that, priestess!”
Chevonne didn't look worried. She shooed Leolin aside and hovered over me.
“Shauna?” she crooned, "you remember our kiss in Boston don't you?”
After I nodded, she bent close to my ear and whispered. “You loved it, didn't you? You want some more?”
I truly did! I even tried to pucker my lips in what I hoped was a sexy look, though I imagined it didn't quite hit the mark:
Chevonne giggled, then pressed her red lips to mine, exploring my mouth with her tongue; my entire body vibrated in response. I felt something squeeze one of my furry boots.
“Her toes are curled, dammit. You win, priestess,” Leolin growled. “This round. Though in the next -where I shall please her with that which you lack- I shall triumph.”
Wait! Was he talking sex? With me? Gross!
Never fear, my goddess. I will save you! á€ine said. When he tries, we shall switch, because …I want him.
That was far too weird a thought for me to begin to process it; I propped up on my elbows and shook my head to focus.
Chevonne's face had softened in concern and Leolin stroked my hair. Even á€ine vibrated by my side. What's up, hey?
When I asked them, a bit of my goddess voice crept in. “You. You three. What is this about?”
“You are not alone, Shauna Deirbhile,” Chevonne said.
“You shall never know loneliness again, goddess,” Leolin added.
“Yeah, I get I'm your goddess, so it's your duty to-”
“-You don't get it!” Chevonne said. “We love you!”
“But why? In this body, I'm an awkward teenage girl, a-”
“-bratty girl, who is also most pretty,” Leolin said.
“Learning is part of the fun, Moon Harper,” Chevonne said, “and we will have such fun teaching you. Think of the epic songs that will come from it.”
Face it Shauna, we are family, á€ine said.
“And the van? What happened to your Charger?”
“The van is my Charger. We converted her for you.”
“But why a van?” I said. I kind of liked the cool muscle car.
“Because we are going on tour, sweetie," Chevonne said. "Danu sent you here for this, correct?”
To sing to souls, yes! To wake them! To fill them with wonder. With music.
My priest and priestess were right! I was all action now; I hopped to my feet.
“Let's get going.”
About damned time! á€ine said.
And so we four hit the road. Yeah, I was still sad about losing Sarah, but á€ine was right; we were family, albeit a strange one.
Yet, I loved and was loved in return. In the end, what more is there?
So listen up, world; look for flyers announcing harpist Shauna Deirbhile is coming soon, to a bar, restaurant or small venue near you.
Keep an eye out for us; you might see an inhumanly handsome and golden haired man taking your money for a ticket, an á¼ber hot redhead singing otherworldly backup vocals, and a geeky dark-haired lass with a harp.
Or, you might see a goddess with a mighty instrument of legend in her hand and a powerful priestess and priest by her side.
Either way, we'll give you the best damn show we can. You'll leave feeling so much better, I guarantee it.
And if you can't find us playing near you, don't fret; you can still catch á€ine and me gigging. One night …no, make it this night, walk outside, gaze up at the stars and moon…
and listen.
the end.
Other works (offsite)
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Taxonomy upgrade extras:
Silver Apples
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
Silver Apples
by Armond
Charlie has lots of things working against him - a shape shifting girl friend who’s PO'd at him, a jealous rival who wants his body —literally- and a job from the Goddess that didn’t work out so well the first time around. On the plus side, he's drinking good coffee.
*Author's note 1: I posted this story on another site five years ago, and am posting here by reader request. In doing so, however, I've done major editing; I really shouldn't have posted the first version in it's semi-edited state. Though the plot and characters are the same, the writing is leaner, more compact. That's the hope, anyway.
*Author's note 2: The title 'Silver Apples' comes from the the Yeats poem, The Song of Wandering Aengus. The last verses of the poem are:
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun...
Which to me represent the Lady and Lord (see chapter 16). Listen to Donovan sing the poem by clicking here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQUT6mS0eY8&feature=related
I. Inizi
1.
"Hi ya, frozen stranger. Some storm outside, huh? You look like you need warming up. I'm Suzannah, the owner of this dump. Officially, I'm Princess Suzannah Yomaris Tinne, which is a mouthful. I'm still struggling with the 'Princess' thing, so for now, please call me Suz, okay?"
The snowman in the wheel chair wore a baffled look on his cold nipped face.
"Arrrrrree... y--y--ou... opennn," the fatigue clad man asked through chattering teeth.
"Yeah, but only for a while; I'm waiting for some dinner date friends to show up, if the weather will gimme a break. You're welcome to stay till then. Hey! I bet you're wondering what a Princess is doing, serving coffee in a place called Jumping Jack's Java Joint. Cute name, huh? I bought the place from Jack and never changed the name. Anyway, why don't you relax and guzzle a big mug of my special hot chocolate, and I'll tell tale -a fairy tale- to pass the time. You're gonna love it, 'cause it's all about the power of love. And -bonus- it's got all kinds of roller coaster twists, turns and subplots."
"Don't like that stuff. Ever since this..." the man swept a hand to his legs, "those 'feel good' stories seem like lies. Look, I know it's real popular to 'support the troops,' and thanks for letting me come in out of the snow and all, but you don't have to patronize me. Just let me warm up in here for a while in peace. I'll pay for the hot chocolate, too, in case you're worried."
"Not like fairy tales? You might as well say you don't like Christmas! Say, I know what! Are you a betting man, uh..."
"Benny. Name's Benny."
"Tell you what, Benny. I'll tell the story, and if you don't like it, the hot chocolate is on the house."
"You're gonna lose for sure, 'princess,' but go ahead. It's not like I have somewhere else to go. Knock yourself out."
"Aww Benny, have a better attitude ...Moi is even in the story, though I'm not one of the main characters - they're Charlie and Kerri. You'll like 'em. Now, as luck would have it, their tale started at this very spot, three weeks ago. It was snowing then too, but not so much as today...
The white mug seemed to glow red in her hand.
"One green tea chai, cousin, piping hot."
Suz set the now steaming mug in front of a woman clad in an ocean-blue crew neck sweater and slid into the opposite booth seat.
"My, my! Personal service from the owner herself." Kerri took a sip. "Mmm, great as usual, Suz, thanks! So how are you doing, cuz? Long day?"
Suz sank into the booth cushions and blew out a weary sigh. Lockets of her fiery hair fluttered off her forehead.
"Today seems like a month of Mondays, and it's only noon."
"What do you expect, when you got 'the hottest coffee in Denver.' ...Ooops! Switch that. Your rep is you are the hottest barista in Denver."
"Damn straight!" Suz flashed a grin. "To make my day more peachy, Queen Mama called again to 'light a fire under me' about my priorities."
"Someday you WILL have to take over for her, Suz..."
"Someday maybe, but not today," a wistful look flickered across Suz's face.
"Hey! Enough of my worries. You gotta try our new holiday low fat muffins." Suz hurried to the pastry counter and returned carrying a plate with a large muffin.
"Bite in - they're cranberry-apple! Doesn't that sound good? I call'um Crapplemuffs," Suz announced, beaming.
"Did you just say 'Crapplemuffs'?" Kerri tried to sound shocked. "Isn't there a law against putting words together like that, Suz? Crapplemuffs?"
"Just take a bite, okay?" Suz said through gritted teeth.
Kerri bit into the muffin. "Mmm! These Mapplecruffs are good! Bravo!"
"Crapplemuffs!" Suz growled. "You're spending way too much time with your wise-ass boyfriend; you sound just like him. Say! Where is lover boy?"
"He'll be here in a few; He wanted to see me before his meeting today with a new client."
"He's gotta work on Saturday? What's up with that?" Suz said.
"Don't know; some mystery woman has offered to pay an obscene retainer. He was up most of last night whipping his portfolio into shape."
"Wow! Charlie's bringing in the big guns, huh?"
"I hope he's bringing his 'big gun' home tonight, since this is our first together since my change. And we are going to be up all night long, depending on how he answers one tiny question.”
When Kerri turned away for a moment, Suz read the worried look. Kerri drew her brown hair behind her back, tied it in a knot, and turned back to Suz.
"You'd better whip up his precious 'Ristretto,'" Kerri rolled her eyes. "How pretentious to insist on a drink most people have never heard of ...gods, he's such a coffee nerd!"
"Watch your mouth! We adore coffee nerds 'round here!" Suz grinned. "So great sex aside, how are things between you two?"
"Not sure; things could be fantastic, or … over. We'll soon see," Kerri responded, her voice tight.
"How 'water' of you to be the drama queen - all emotion and no common. Are you serious?"
Kerri nodded. "Look at this sketch he did."
She pulled a folded drawing from her purse and slid it across the booth tabletop. Suz studied it.
"Man, he's good! I love the energy of his strokes..."
"Energy... you would love that," Kerri said.
"...and I love how he highlights your high cheek bones," Suz continued, "...the curve of your smile."
Suz looked at it again. "And your eyes... for a sketch, he so captured their liquid beauty..."
Kerri looked away, her cheeks reddening. "He's going to do an oil of this..."
"I wish he'd quit screwing around with commercial graphic crap and devote all his time to art,” Suz said. “If you ignore the muse too long, she flames your ass."
Suz pushed the drawing back to Kerri. "Do you think he'd paint me?"
"Gods are you vain! I'm sure he would be happy to for coffee credits ...but don't you get it? This is how he sees me! And it's so ...incomplete."
"Well of course its incomplete, he has no idea ...wait! You …you don't mean you want him to know everything, do you?"
"What I want..." Kerri's voice grew soft, her aqua blue eyes gazing at some unseen horizon,
"...is a love I can trust. Not a half love that always hides half of me. This time, I must. know."
Kerri let out a ragged sigh. "It's impossible to have something real when you're a shifter. I envy you, cuz, at least you can live a normal life."
"My life normal?” Suz barked out a laugh. “Please. Need I remind you my 'mother' is head of our little clan? She's on my ass every day about how I must assume the 'mantel of my ruling' responsibilities'. Look around; my place is filled with of full breeds and half-breeds, and your basic lovable clueless Ordinaries like your Charlie. It's a cross between Rick's Café and the alien bar scene from Star Wars. Normal life indeed."
"Fair point, but you know what I mean, normal for one of us. It IS different for me. I want to be with my love all the time; my feelings don't change when my body changes. Every three weeks I have to hide from him, lie to him, tell him I'm away on business or some other excuse."
"You have feelings for him when you're female and when you are male?" Suz asked . "It's always been a point of curiosity in 'the tribe' about whether a shape shifter's orientation changed with a body change. I always just assumed it did."
"Mmm-hmm, most think so. But that's not how it is, at least not for me. I'm like ...the reverse of a schizophrenic. Instead of two personalities in one body, I'm one personality in two. And the problem I've got is I want Charlie in both."
"In one body form you're straight and in the other you're gay? Oy! This IS a problem! I'm not sure Charlie's the kind of guy who could go both ways. This is serious if you are willing to risk telling him everything!"
"It could be. Charlie is different, I think ...I've never seen a person, either Ordinary or Elf, with so much potential! As you are so fond of saying, we Waters have a habit of deep thinking..."
"Hey, I didn't mean it as a compliment!” Suz said. “Paralysis by analysis? A sucky plan for tackling problems."
"Point is, I've given a lot of thought to Charlie's personality and whether we are compatible. What I've found, is he can be the most amazing balance of elements: sometimes he's water, like me, empathetic and emotional, or fire, like you, creative, intense. He's air, carefree and cerebral, and yet he can be earth, too, grounded and practical."
"But?"
Kerri blew out another long sigh. "He's so inconsistent and …and superficial sometimes! He … running from his own depth, if that makes any sense."
"It does." Suz nodded her head in agreement, smiling at the thought of Charlie. "Gotta admit, he's a most unordinary Ordinary."
Kerri bobbed her head up and down. "Always in the middle of some ridiculous practical joke, but just when you think he's incapable of serious thought, he quotes some Dante's Inferno passage and lapses into a melancholy funk.”
“I know!” Suz said, lowering her voice. “And there's something I've found fascinating; he's scared shitless by fire. Have ya noticed? He runs at the sight of it. Kinda like the monster in the Frankenstein movies, ya know? 'argghh - fire bad- arrghh'. Probably explains why he never shacked up with me. Man, if ever happens, though..." Suz stopped speaking when she saw Kerri staring at her, and not in a fond way.
"B-but it never could, cousin, what with our relationship and your relationship and his fear of fire..." she said, clipping her words.” Anyway, he IS an amazing paradox."
*AHEM* "I agree; he has this incredible hidden well of depth. And I hope..." Her face tensed, as if she was trying to convince not only Suz but herself too.
"...I pray ... I can unblock it, to make Charlie the rare person, who could love me, and not the female body figure I wear."
"But sweetie, even if you could, think what you're asking of our boy. First, to accept the existence of our race, and if this doesn't send him running to the nearest exit sign, you want him to accept his lover turns into a guy every three weeks, and wants to love him when she's a he! Is it realistic. No! Is it fair, to expect him to be a ...a ...what, a bisexual monogamist? And if he can't? What then?"
"If he can't then ...I don't know ...it's over, maybe ...I haven't decided yet," Kerri said, tears welling in her eyes. "I'll tell you this, Suz, I barely escaped one nightmare relationship, I won't waste one moment in another."
"You're making a huge mistake, Kerri, he's NOT like Rachael! Rachael didn't love you!" Suz's light brown eyes sparked red. "She was in love with novelty of someone who could change into anyone she wished. She's a sick twisted bitch who tried to psychologically enslave you. I was never so glad to see the back of someone."
"All the more reason I must know about Charlie." Kerri said. "...and ... oops! sshhh! Here he comes!"
2.
"Let me introduce meself," an airy voice announced; the man's eyes twinkled as he extended his hand in greeting.
"Me name is Aethelfrith Uath. Ah'm an historian an researcher an Ah'm trying to track doon the theft of one of our antiquities."
"Glad to meet you, Mister...um Aethafr-a ...um"
"Ah've heard me name pronounced most creatively ower the years...it's best if yee just call me 'Mr. U'."
"Of course! Welcome to the Rocky Mountain Keep, Mr. U!" answered an elfin woman, as she rose from her seat behind a large oaken desk to take his hand. She was in her late fifties, with graying red hair, round cherry cheeks and bright sparkling eyes. "You're from the Northumbrian Keep?"
"Aye! Hoo did yee knaa? Was it me accent or me name?" Mr. U asked, as he removed his winter jacket and hung it from the back of the chair.
"Accent? What accent?" Jessica asked in mock innocence. She smiled and continued, "To be honest, I am familiar with your writings."
"Well, Ah hope you aren't one of me critics who thinks Ah'm a kook!"
"On the contrary, I think your premise is undeniable; we are disappearing from the world. With each age we become fewer. This I accept. It's your conclusions I disagree with, that the salvation of our race is somehow tied to the return of the Akasha. Sorry; not a realistic solution. It's been six hundred years since the last one; no more are coming. After what happened to her, why would the Goddess ever send another? No, I appreciate your view, but we need solutions for here and now. We must learn to live in the present if we are to have any hope of existing in the future. The dream of the Akasha is from our rosy past. Our reality is we live in a world driven by technology, information and power. I'm Jessica Tinne, by the way, Queen of this Keep."
"Ah, Queen Tinne! The git person Ah was looking to see! But before we get to the reason Ah'm here, Ah need to say more aboot the Akasha. You're from the 'Realist' school Ah see, you've been reading articles by Terrance Beith of the Moscow Keep?"
"Beith, yes but also Liz Dair."
"Ah! Ms. Dair, o the Provence Keep, the chief of me many critics. Am Ah the only one who sees the irony of such a hard core Realist living in dreamy provincial countryside? Beith and Dair have it wrong! We do not need to get better at adapting to modern life! Look around yee and yee will see a world spinning out o balance, a world filled with pollution, massive extinction o species, global climate change. An all this has happened since the last Akasha was here. It has happened because there has been no Akasha.
Mr. U paced Jessica's office with hands behind back and eyes fixed hard at the floor.
“Where is the balance? Humans will soon learn to merge with machines! Do we Elves dumbly nod our heads an accept such change simply because the technology is possible? Do we become part machine too? Are Ordinaries no longer te be human, then? Are we te no longer be Elves? In the past, the Akasha offered choices te Elves and Ordinaries alike, choices that balanced the changes. She centered. She healed. She showed different paths. We need her now, Elves and Ordinaries alike!"
"Then where is she, Mr. U, where is your beloved Akasha?" Jessica's voice grew loud and fire sparked in her eyes. "The Ordinaries brutally murdered the last, and hunted the rest of us for centuries! Hear me! I lead the Elves of this Keep and the problems they face cannot be answered by telling them to wait for a savior. I hope your visit does not involve a request for support for your theories. If so, security will drive you back to DIA to catch the next flight out."
"As much as Ah'd love to discuss this further with yee, as Ah said, it's not why Ah'm here. We've seen a theft from our archives an Ah'm trying te catch up with the thief. She's been spotted here.”
"Really?" the anger in Jessica's voice evaporated, replaced by concern. "Who is she? What did she take?"
"Her name is Rachael Fern, an she's pinched the Pumed Egwyddor Llyfr chan Hud. Ah've been sent te fetch it, an her, back te our Keep."
"The Pumed Eg...um...er..."
"An ancient book o' magic. Its use ...even its reading, was forbidden by the Combined Keeps centuries ago."
"She ...stole ...an ancient ...magic ...book?" Jessica struggled to sort through the implications. "Rachael is from our Keep, and has a dicey history here. Why did she steal it?"
"The very question we have te know" he replied, his eyes meeting hers. "The lass is up te mischief for sure."
"I'll alert security to detain her ...and we'll need to warn Kerri Saille. Rachael and Kerri were lovers and when Kerri broke it off a year ago, Rachael went postal. We had to lock her down for several months. When we released her, she just vanished."
"Well, now, that's when she must have showed up at our Keep, by the curse o the gods."
"It's an easy bet she'll seek out Kerri. I'll call my daughter, and have her spread the word among our people; they gather at her place. Pray the gods will grant us luck."
3.
*Ahem*
"Questions, Benny? I was just thinking you had a WTF look on your face."
"Elves and fairies? In Denver? What kind of bullshit is this? You don't expect me to believe this, do you?"
"I do indeed. Here. Have another chocolate chunk cookie, and let me try to explain some of this to you.” Suz pushed another warm gooey cookie his way.
“I'll give you the short version: Kerri and I are members of a magical race which has lived along side humanity, well, forever. Officially, we are Elves; informally, fairies, a name we detest. So you know, this is a REAL fairytale. We elves, each of us, are gifted with an elemental power of fire, water, air and earth. Mine is fire. Kerri's element is water.
"In the story, didn't you just call Kerri a shiter?" Benny snickered.
"No, my hearing impaired friend, I called her a 'shifter.' Kerri is a Water, but not your common rain or water worker. She's a Shape Shifter; because water is the element of change, ya know, from solid to liquid to gas. Shifters are the rarest of our race, their bodies regularly change gender, male to female and back, few weeks. Tracks the moon or something. They can also change their shapes to be anyone they imagine, but can only hold the form for a few hours - when they revert to their default bodies."
"Ha! I've seen these movies. So how do the shiters' clothes change when they change?" Benny leaned back in his wheel chair with a cocky smile on his face. His cheeks burned rosy, all signs of coldness had left him.
"Is it like the Hulk, buttons popping off an stuff? I mean, if you're gonna make shit up, at least have it be consistent shit."
"A most excellent question, Benny! The answer is uber cool; the clothes shifters wear are illusions. They buy black skin tight outfits from a clothing company run by some Airs. The Airs embed air illusion magic into the fabric, allowing the shifter to form a cloth illusion with a thought; any outfit they can imagine. Like I said; uber cool. All elves would wear the duds if the Airs didn't charge an absolute fortune. No warranty, either. Look, all becomes clearer as we get more into the story. Why don't we get back to it, cause Charlie is about to enter the story and what happens next is funky..."
Kerri waved at the man entering the coffee shop, who waved back and headed to the women.
Suz watched Kerri try -and fail- to suppress an affectionate smile at the sight of the man:
Well over six feet and cut, he filled out a multicolored plaid board shirt and faded jeans in all the right ways. Beads of water from melted snowfall glistened in wavy midnight hair, and his deep blue eyes sparkled as he neared Kerri.
Other customers called out "Charlie!" as he walked through the room. This was a Java Junction tradition, as Charlie was hailed as the biggest caffeine consumer along the Front Range.
He nodded coolly in return, and, on reaching Kerri, planted a long kiss on her lips. Kerri blushed and pulled away, though not too quickly.
"Man I've missed you! There's got to be a job here that won't take you away so much," he whispered, and leaned in for another kiss.
Dog howls greeted their continued PDA, followed by Suz yelling, "Stop! You'll scare away my customers!"
"Thank you..." Charlie said, turning up his collar, "Thank you very much..." and scooted into the booth next to her.
"So, Elvis, where've you been all morning?" Kerri asked.
"Working. Last minute prep. I was going to call, but my cell phone's dead."
"You know, to charge it, you actually have to plug it in."
"Whoa? Is that what the cord is for? Do you have a piece of paper? I should jot that down."
"Funny. Hey, Suz and I were just debating whether you could drink a normal cup of coffee, or if you always had to have a fancy one" Kerri winked at Suz.
"Normal? Fancy? I have no frame of reference for such obtuse coffee descriptions."
"Oh please, I was kidding,” Kerri said, after giving head shake. “But why in the name of the gods do you put so much importance on it? All we're talking about here are smashed brown beans mucking up good water. It's just coffee."
"Just coffee? Just coffee? Blasphemy! BLASPHEMY I say!" Charlie modulated his voice to affect a southern preacher drawl.
"...and you shall be con-demned, con-DEE- umned to the 10th circle of hell where all must drink instant coffee for e-tern-it-y!"
"Uh Suz? Did Dante's Hell have a 10th circle for..." Kerri whispered to Suz.
Suz shook her head but whispered "sshh! He's on a roll!"
Charlie sprang to his feet and paced in front of the booth, hands flailing.
"Why, the forces of Gawd hisself must align to create the perfect cup. Did Juan Valdez plant in the right place? For the best beans must grow high - in - the - sky!"
"Say it, brother!" was shouted from a nearby table.
"Did Juan choose the right earth, sacred earth? For only a magical combination of nutrients, drainage and shade trees gives birth to the holiest of holies - coffee cherries."
"Hallelujah!" came another call.
"And water, the life givin' mountain monsoon rains, - must - come!"
"And what of fire, for roasting, Brother," Suz was into it now, eyes glowing.
"Patience with the fire, sister Suz! I'm coming to it. Yes, the beans must be roasted to perfection; for too hot or long surely brings coffee damnation!"
Charlie lifted his eyes skyward.
"So ...for the cup of joe that knocks you to your knees and shout 'PRAISE THE LORD,' there must be the perfect blending, a magical blending, of the four elements; air, earth, water and fire."
Suz and Kerri exchanged raised eyebrow glances.
"It seems," Kerri asked, trying to bring Charlie back to the planet, "rather by chance the elements come together in just the way needed for 'good coffee'. Is it all just luck then, dear?"
"Luck, yes my child. Fortune, chance, destiny even. But there's more to it than that. Much more. There is a ...mystical dynamic involved. The coffee grower, the roaster, and..."
Charlie grinned at Suz, "the sainted barista."
"These are the alchemists who watch over the four elements, from the growing, to the roasting to the brewing. These are wonder workers who know when more or less of this and that is needed, to produce ...a miracle."
"Amen! And pass the refills, Suz!" came a chorus from nearby tables.
Suz put her arm around Charlie "I just love this one; he's sooo good for business."
"Back off coffee wench, he's mine! " Kerri answered with a grin. "It sounds like Buddha didn't need to sit under that bodhi tree at all, all he needed was a good cup of coffee."
"I'd better get his Ristretto going. The pressure's on now, since his eternal salvation rides on every cup." Suz said, starting back to the coffee counter.
Kerri leveled a cryptic look at him. "Do you believe all your talk of magic, balance and the four elements?"
"Sounded good, didn't it? Of course, it's true - as in all things, a balance is needed." Charlie said, "but honestly, love, magic?"
4.
"Magic, love, deepest darkest magic will bring you back to me," the woman hummed, as she placed four incense sticks in a diamond shape on the floor.
When Rachael learned Kerri had fallen in love with an Ordinary, she spiraled into depression. Panicked, desperate, Rachael knew she must find a way to force Kerri back to her. Night after night she burned with jealousy, and found herself wishing she could switch places with the man. But no elfin magic could do such a thing.
Or ...was there? For, one night in a dream, she journeyed to a strange island filled with apple trees, and at the base of the tree in the middle of the orchard lay an ancient book of spells. In the dream, she had turned to the far back and found a chapter of interesting spells. Though she could not read them, she knew, as you do in dreams, these were transformational spells.
She also knew they were forbidden.
When Rachael awoke, she was filled with hope and booked a flight on the next plane to Greece. There, she traveled to the Aeolian Keep, which housed the largest elfin library on the planet. Rachael dove into researching her people's magical lore - for she must find those spells!
After several hectic months, she found her first real clue - a reference to an old Combined Keeps edict:
'Henceforth, it is forbidden to engage, employ or invoke,
the spells contained in the Pumed Egwyddor Llyfr chan Hud.
Henceforth the Pumed Egwyddor Llyfr chan Hud shall be stored
and preserved by the Staraá of the Keep of Northumbria, where
none save he may view it.
This counsel decrees that any violation of this order shall be a
capital offense.
So ordered - Edict 402, Council of the Combined Keeps'
'Death? Death?! Elves NEVER executed their criminals! What magic could be so horrible ...or powerful?' Rachael wondered, sensing the path to realizing her vision.
From Greece, she traveled to the Northumbrian Keep. But there she ran an into a brick wall in the form of an insufferable Elf Staraá, or historian, with an unpronounceable name, and an indecipherable accent. The fellow kept the manuscript under rigid lock and key. Worse, he was an Air too, and so was immune to her illusion magic.
She might never have gotten the manuscript, but for Lady Fortune's favors once more. The Staraá had been challenged to debate his absurd theories about the return of the Akasha at the Australian Keep, and so had to travel to Perth - Australia, not Scotland.
Once he was gone, Rachael used her Air illusions to take the ancient book. A quick peek confirmed the spell book was the one from her dream!
The Goddess must be guiding my venture, Rachael mused. I will succeed!
"Not long now, my Kerri, and we shall be together, forever. Hmm, I like the ring of that..."
Rachael squinted at the ancient tome open before her. "So, step one, invoke the elements."
Candles she placed at four diamond points, and at each candle a bowl. In one she poured water, another, soil. In the third she poured a clear liquid, which she then held a match over. A small blue-white flame flicked bright. The final bowl contained nothing save air.
Lifting the book, again Rachael prepared to recite the incantations. So many variables to hold in her mind - the transfer itself, how much concentration would that take? Then the problem of memories, one to preserve and one to erase. What were those risks?
She shook her head and decided she was over thinking. Concentrate! What was the essence of the magic? Transferring male to female, female to male, memory lost and memory to remain. She cleared her throat:
After she spoke the spell words save the final one of activation, Rachael stood to regard her work: the soft flickering of the fire bowl was the single sound to be heard; blue glow, gentle white incense smoke, serenity.
Yet she sensed -could feel- the kinetic energy building, waiting, to unleash.
She smiled, and sat cross-legged in the circle's center, humming again:
“The web now spun,
My will be done!”
5.
“Very poetic, dear. Now shut up about coffee ...we need to have a serious talk, Charlie.
Uh-oh!
“...Did I leave the toilet seat up again?”
"No. Er, yes, but that's not what we need to talk about."
"Okay, shoot."
Kerri took a deep breath.
"When you say 'I love you' to me, what do you mean?"
"Crap! So if I answer wrong, no sex tonight?"
"I'm serious."
"Sorry,” Charlie said. “What do I mean when I say those words? I don't know, it's hard enough for me just to say 'em, Kerri. I'm not sure I know what you're asking."
"It's simple, dear. You surely had a reason to 'say those words.' Is it a deep deep feeling you have? My smashing looks?" she batted her eyelashes. "The wonderful way we are together? Or something else?"
"Well, first, you are beautiful, Kerri..."
Kerri's eyes stormed. "My looks? Your love for me is based on looks alone?"
"No ...wait ...let me finish! God your mood changes faster than weather at sea! But hey! I don't see what's wrong with loving the way someone looks-"
"-I see! Random chance is the basis of your love for me ... a random genetics lottery that produced the person you're madly in love with. Looks. Are. Nothing! It's not the surface of the ocean that matters - the surface is the tiniest part. It's all that lies beneath."
"Agreed, there's more to love than looks," he countered, "but …hang on! ...Are you saying looks don't matter at all? Rather noble, aren't you?
"Charlie, I would love you ...however you looked: fat, thin, old or young or male or female, even."
"Wait just a freakin' minute,” Charlie shouted. “So we are clear, you're saying, you would love me, if I were a fat bald slobbery toothless old man? Or better, a fat bald toothless old woman who smelled of ...old socks?"
"Yes!" Kerri shouted back, "yes I would! Can't you say the same about me? Could you love me if I were an old woman... or man?"
"This is just silly, asking me if I would love you if you were an old man-"
"-or just a man," Kerri interrupted. "I'll admit this sounds weird, but it's important to me...is your love true ? ...could you?"
"You'll fit well with my family, Kerri,” Charlie offered, hoping to change the subject. “We've got a checkered history of odd ducks, on my fathers' and mother's side."
"Answer me," Kerri pressed.
"Love you as man? That's an ...uncomfortable hypothetical. You're serious?"
"How you answer is key to our future."
"What's got into you?” Charlie pleaded “Stop talking this way, love, it's not funny."
" Answer!"
"Why are you doing this? I love you, Kerri Saille, I love everything about you. Isn't this enough?"
"You're avoiding the question!"
"Fine," Charlie yelled. "Fine! No. I could not love you if you were a man. Happy now? May we please stop this nonsense?"
When Kerri's eyes teared, Charlie sensed he'd committed a horrible error; he reached out to caress her face. She pushed his hand away.
"I'll stop by later to pick up my things from your place."
"What!? I don't understand..." Charlie was floored. "You're ...breaking up with me over this? Let's talk about this ...DON'T DO THIS! Tell me what you want me to say and I'll say it!"
"I'd appreciate it if you'd leave now. Don't you have your presentation to make?"
"I don't give a flip about my presentation! Let's talk this through, okay? I ...I ...of course I would love you if you were a man or woman or anything."
Kerri refused to look at him. "Stop making a scene, Charlie. Retain some dignity and leave."
He stood, slowly, and turned to walk away. Despair and nausea washed over him as he grasped this could be the end of their love. The wonder and joy he found with her…gone!
From the ashen pale of his face, Kerri was scared he might collapse on the floor.
"Charlie?"
"Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch'entrate…"
Her eyes went icy cold, “So! Even now you can't resist an idiot quote from ...Dante, I presume? Gods are you self-absorbed! How could I have been so wrong about you? Not that it matters, but what, pray tell, is this quote supposed to mean?"
"Abandon all hope, ye who...'" he stopped as his throat closed, choked by emotion. Finally, he whispered:
"It means, I am lost!"
Suz approached the booth worried on her face, setting the demitasse cup down on the table.
"Where's..."
Kerri turned from the window where she had been staring at the snow fall. Tears
Streaked her cheeks.
Suz's eyes widened. "Oh no! He couldn't accept what you are?"
"We never got that far,” Kerri said “I asked him why he loved me, and when he told me I was beautiful, I went off into a rage."
"Yeah, always pisses me off too,” Suz said.
"This is serious. So you know, I told him I'd be by to pick up my stuff from his place."
"Dammit, Kerri! Why'd you do a stupid thing like that? Big ...fuckin..."
"...mistake." Kerri finished the thought. "I know ...I know! With all my talk about how he should love me, I forgot the other side of the coin - how much I love him. Why did I do it!? Why didn't you talk me out of this?"
"Hey! I tried! But you wouldn't lis-"
"-I ...I've got to go after him..." Kerri interrupted. "Tell him I wasn't serious, grovel, whatever. I have this terrible feeling I've screwed up and things will never be the same again."
"Calm down! Don't be too hard on yourself; you wanted what we all want - you wanted it all."
Suz raised a scarlet eyebrow and drew closer. "Now, if you want my advice, what you should do, is wait for him at home in something hot, and when he opens his door, don't let him say one word. Just reach up and-"
Suz's cell ring tone of the Doors, 'Come On Baby Light My Fire,' chimed. Suz looked at the caller ID.
"Sorry. It's Mommy," she frowned. "I'll call her later. Anyway, reach up and give him your wettest French kiss - you Water types are so good at that - and then grind..."
Her cell phone rang again; she punched the green button. "Dammit, what? You remember something you left off your hit list of my faults?"
Suz's anger drained away, replaced by shock.
"When? How do you know?" pause “She's right here" Suz's eyes looked at Kerri. "Yes, of course I'll let her know” pause “I'll spread the word for the clan to be on the look out... you too. Bye."
"What was that all about," Kerri asked.
"Brace yourself - she's baaack."
"Who?" Kerri said.
"Rachael. Seems she's stolen a forbidden scroll something and is in hiding nearby."
Suz reached across the booth and held Kerri's hand. "When it rains, it pours. I'm so sorry. First Charlie, now this."
A thought occurred to Suz. "Charlie's mystery client is..."
"A woman, I think," Kerri answered. "Charlie said she was someone new, not a referral from a current client. You don't think ...it would be too much of a coincidence."
"Call him, just in case,” Suz said. “Better safe than sorry."
"I can't, his cell's dead. Wait, Charlie got the meeting address from his phone messages - I'll call and get it." Kerri punched several numbers into Suz's phone and listened.
"Why doesn't he ever erase his old messages," Kerri growled as she plodded her way through them.
"Here it is … shit shit shit SHIT! It's her! It's Rachael! We've got to go!"
"We'll take my 'Stang, she'll get us there faster,” Suz said. “I'll call Mother on the way and have her send help to meet us."
"Gods! What is she doing?” Kerri was wild-eyed with panic.
"If she's done anything to him, she's toast - literally." Suz's eyes blazed red.
6.
Charlie had trouble finding the meeting place. He expected to arrive at an office complex. Instead, he found himself parked in front of an abandoned warehouse in an industrial area off Sante Fe Drive.
Charlie felt a sense of -he didn't know how else to think of it- doom. He knew it was stupid to go ahead with the meeting; he was so numbed he could barely remember his name. The problem was, with his cell phone dead, so he had no way to call the client and cancel. A pay phone would work, except, the woman's number was on his cell, which was still dead. It would simpler to show up, stumble in, and beg another meeting time.
The warehouse was bare - concrete floor and metal walls - but Charlie saw a room at this far end, with light flickering from its doorway.
"Hello?" his voice reverberated.
"In here," came the response
Charlie's echoing footstep sounded death row ominous as he approached the doorway. He expected to find chairs, desk or table, telephones, computers, lamps and other office kit, and find someone resembling an owner of a high-powered media publications group.
Instead, he stumbled into a room lit by four candles, placed to form four compass points.
In its center, a white-robed woman sat cross-legged on a folded cloud- white blanket. Beside her were incense holders, burning sticks that coiled sage smelling smoke into the dim lit air.
The woman was breathtaking; except for her robe, she wore no clothes. She was lithe figured, with alabaster smooth skin. Her silver and albino white hair fell to her small breasts, framing her lean face, soft thin lips, delicate nose, and thin arched eyebrows. Most unsettling were her night-black oval eyes.
"Excuse me, I must have come to the wrong place."
"No, Charlie, you've come to the right place."
"I ... uh ...don't think so." Charlie's instincts screamed 'RUN', and he started backing out the way he had come.
"Ah, but what kind of trouble will Kerri be in if you don't stay?"
Charlie froze. "What did you say?"
"Kerri. It would be a shame if something happened to her."
"You're ...threatening Kerri?" He stepped toward her. "Who are you?"
"You have no clue who she is and what she can do. Irrelevant at this point...for you, because she's mine!"
Anger flared in him; he strode into the circle of candles. As he crossed the boundary, the candles blazed bright, sending ozone flooding into the room.
"Lady, who the hell are you?"
The circle's sudden power surge startled the woman. Curious. She recovered and flashed a toothy smile.
"You are about have 'hands-on' experience in who I am."
She lifted up her arms and shouted:
"ACTIO!"
A rainbow-hued vortex sprang up to swirl around them.
Electricity crackled and formed an outline around their bodies. Charlie spun to the floor, even as something wrenched from deep inside.
II. Centrale
7.
A beeping monitor whined; the singular sound in the room.
Suz broke the trance. "Sit, Kerri; there's nothing to do til he wakes."
Kerri stood by the unconscious body of Charlie. She gripped his hand, willing him awake. But she could not; his body lay still on the sterile white infirmary bed.
"You heard Dr. Ruis," Suz said. "He found no injuries, and his vitals are good. Sit, rest; Charlie's safe here at the Keep and Mother will deploy all our resources to give him the best medical care. With Rachael locked away in a detention cell, she can't do any more mischief. Everything will be fine!"
"Then why won't he wake up? Why?" Kerri's eyes turned watery. "Charlie, please, come back to me. I'm so sorry for what I said."
His eyes fluttered open.
"Charlie?" Kerri asked, breathless.
"I'm ...Charlie ...what…?" he whispered in a thin raspy voice.
"Honey, are you okay?"
"Okay? …think …so." His eyes narrowed as he stared into her face.
"Who are you?"
Kerri shot a look at Suz. "It's me! Kerri. Think, love; what do you remember?"
He turned to Suz. "Should ...I know you?"
"Absolutely. I'm the lass who brews you the best coffee in the world."
"Um, coffee," the man answered, as if accessing a data base. "Do I like coffee?"
"You're mad about the stuff!" Suz answered.
"Oh. Okay."
As other questions produced similar non responses, Kerri's expression turned from deep concern to stormy wrath. She let go of his hand.
"Watch him, Suz. Let nothing happen to him."
"Where are you going?" Suz read Kerri's face and fire alarm bells clanged in her head.
"No! Do not go to Rachael's cell; don't go vigilante on me, Kerri! Mother will take care of this - stay here for Charlie!"
Kerri wasn't listening. "This was her plan, to destroy his memory of me? Somehow this would bring me back to her? She - must - suffer."
"Don't do this!" Suz saw the fury flooding Kerri and grabbed her arm. "As your friend, I'm begging you to wait. He just woke up; we don't know enough yet. Let Mother sort this out!"
Kerri yanked her arm away. "If you are my friend, you will GET OUT OF MY WAY. Time for the bitch to feel some pain."
Before Suz could answer, Kerri stormed from the room and vanished into the Keep's many corridors.
Sighing, Suz flipped opened her phone, and pressed some buttons.
"Mother? Suz …we've got another problem."
8.
"You seem like you're enjoying the story a little, hmm Benny? Want something to eat Benny? One of my Crapplemuffs, maybe?"
"Well, no, miss, uh, Suz, I don't have any mon... I mean, I'm not hungry."
"Please have one, my treat. Think of it as helping me with the product research; you see, there is a debate about the, um, appeal, of the brilliant name I came up with. Please?"
As she handed him one, steam rose from the muffin. Benny almost inhaled the pastry whole.
"These are great," he said, crumbs spewing out. "Cruffinmuffins are fine by me!"
"It's Crapple... never mind," Suz sighed. "Any questions about the story while we're on a commercial break?"
"I admit, 'Princess', the story's kinda good," Benny shifted in his wheelchair, his face mixture of curiosity and disbelief. "But what's all this business about a 'Keep'? You 'keep' losing me there."
"Oh yeah, sorry! A Keep is our -the elves I mean- name for our regional headquarters. We got fifteen or twenty of 'em around the world. Think cross between a fort and commune. We call it a Keep because... will, I don't know, exactly. We've called 'em Keeps for thousands of years. Anyway, this one -the one Mother is queen of- is the Rocky Mountain Keep. It's near Waterton Canyon in the foothills. Pretty amazing complex. I wish I could show you it; I give great tours. When I was a kid, my mother used to make me give tours to visiting Elf dignitaries."
"Now, c'mon! Cut the crap, okay?" challenged Benny.
"I shit you not, my friend. We have meeting rooms and offices, communication, medical facilities and food services, boarding school facilities for the special needs that Elf children present, a security force, and even have correctional facilities We're our own secret government."
"A secret fairy government? No offense, but this is where the story is lame. I stopped believing in Santa and the Easter Bunny when I was five. I mean, if this were true, wouldn't the government know about it? The real one, I mean? Why haven't you been discovered? With the surveillance stuff I saw, when I was over there..." Benny fidgeted in his chair as his memory replayed what he had seen and suffered, "a-anyway, there's no way something like this would be off the grid, you know? So it's a weak spot in the story is all."
"Don't be too sure, my friend. Oh we've been hiding under the radar for far longer than radars have existed, Benny, trust me. Our Air Elementals are skilled at illusion. When people see our Keep, they see an engineering and manufacturing complex producing weapons system components.”
"Now wait a minute!" Benny answered. "Your Keep can't be at Waterton Canyon because that's the old Johns Manville complex, right? Am I right?"
"If you think so, Benny," Suz grinned. "And does your government know? Nope. We had a bad stretch with those witch trials, but that was due to a split among the Elves about whether we should 'go public' to try help humanity, which was rather pathetic at the time; ya know, what with the dark ages and all. Instead of being thankful, humans burned our Akasha …er, religious leader …and chased us with the Inquisition. Those were bad times, the Burning Times..."
Suz's face turned sad for a moment before she continued. "Ancient history, as they say. Back to the story, my blizzard compadre; lots more to tell. I've even got a 'hot' scene coming up if I do say so myself."
The pale woman tried sitting up, but restraints on her arms and legs held her to the bed. Her eyes flashed a wild look as they scanned the cement walls and fluorescent ceiling lights of the cell.
"Is …this …a …hospital?"
Words were hard to form, and she had trouble focusing on the thin white haired man and bright-eyed eyed woman before her.
"Why am I tied down like this?"
"As if we'd allow you to raise your arms to invoke your element! Stop playing the fool, Rachael," Jessica demanded. "Tell us what you did to Kerri's boyfriend and what you were doing with the stolen book."
"Who? I am Charlie, Kerri's boyfriend ...I ...what's …wrong with me? ...Why can't I ...think ...everything is …jumbled."
"Drop the games and start cooperating! Otherwise we might let Kerri in to chat with you. You don't want that, trust me. She's out of her mind with rage and has vowed to kill you if-"
"-Kerri ... kill me? Why?"
"Because of what you did to her boyfriend. You are in danger even here. I've posted guards, but she's a shifter, you know, and stealth is their business."
"I don't understand ...I told you, I'm Charlie..."
The hardness in Jessica's eyes wavered as she scanned the woman's face. Something was out of place.
"Is this a trick, Mr. U," Jessica asked, "or is she suffering trauma from the forbidden magic?"
"Based on what Ah know of what she stole, it is possible, Jessica," he answered.
"You mean …there's a chance she might be someone other than Rachael?" Jessica's mouth hung open.
"I'll need te research the spell …but, aye."
"Lord and Lady!” Jessica said “And I thought I'd seen everything!"
"Who are you people?" The woman said. She gave a feeble tug at her restraints "Feel so weird …what have you done to me?"
Jessica stood up, galvanized. "You, whoever you are, will stay here until we get to the bottom of this. But if this is a trick, Rachael..."
She hoped to get a flicker of recognition from the woman. When Jessica received nothing but an uncomprehending stare, she turned back to Mr. U.
“I know you will be leaving soon now you've recovered your manuscript, but could you delay your departure, and lend us your lore expertise? You see what we're up against; we could use your help to sort out what Rachael has done. You could look over her notes, use our library..."
Mr. U held up his hand. "Ah'll do my best. Ahm glad te help."
As they stepped out of the cell, Jessica saw the guard was not at his post. She heard a flushing sound from down the hall and a lumbering hulk emerged from the men's room, still zipping his pants.
"Everything came out well, I trust Tony?"
"Yes ma'am" The guard turned beet red.
"Excellent. Next time, do not leave your post unattended."
"Yes ma'am ...I mean no ma'am, I won't.
"Tony, this is critical. Get that earth brain of yours working. The shifter Kerri Saille is missing, loose somewhere in the Keep. It is possible, no, likely, she will try to visit this prisoner. She is extremely dangerous. Under no circumstances allow Kerri to see the prisoner. I want a full detail of guards posted here 'round the clock. Is that understood, Tony?"
"Yes ma'am!"
Jessica pulled her cell phone from her pocket and tapped the speaker button.
"Stacey, Tony is guarding -whoever is the cell- alone. Send more guards immediately, and send a team to meet me ASAP in the infirmary room where the Ordinary is staying. He may be Rachael for all I know, and no one is guarding her, er, him. Gods, this is confusing!"
"That's why you get paid the big bucks, my queen." The cell phone voice answered.
"You mean I'm supposed to get paid? And all these years I've been working pro bono! Also, warn Captain Straif to have her officers watch for Kerri in her male or female form..."
"As if that will do any good ...she can take any form she chooses..." A voice from the phone answered.
"Way to cheer me up," Jessica sighed. She turned to the guard again.
"Tony, let no one other than Dr. Ruis or me enter this room.”
Jessica drew close to the huge guard
“And Tony, the rest of the detail won't be here for a few more minutes. I'm counting on you to protect the prisoner. Clear?"
"Yes ma'am! Anyone that's gonna get in there will have to go in through me."
"Good man. Please come with me to the infirmary, Mr. U."
Aye, ma'am ah will. Wouldn't miss this fre the world."
As Jessica strode down the Keep corridors, she spoke again into her cell phone:
"Also, Stace, call Dr. Ruis and tell him to sedate ...umm …Charlie-in-Rachael's body? Rachael-in Charlie? Crap! Who is who?"
"Got no idea what you're talking about, boss. If it's a problem, sedate um both."
"Great idea! Have Ruis sedate Rachael and Charlie."
"How sedated?" the cell phone voice queried.
"Like you'd sedate an elephant. One last thing. Track down Dr. John Ailm. His number is in my Outlooks contacts. We need his particular expertise for this ...what ...potential gender emergency? Anyway, tell him to have his butt on the next plane out of California."
"Should we send the private jet?"
"No. It would take too long to get there and back. Commercial's got to be faster. Handle all the travel arrangements for him. I don't care if he flies first class or has to sit on the airplane toilet, get him here stat!
"Done. Anything else?" the cell phone voice asked.
Jessica sighed, "Yeah, have Ruis give me a double of whatever he mixes up for to Rachael and Charlie."
9.
The cell door opened and the guard stepped in the room. He walked to the cot where the woman lay. Her eyes sprang open when he yanked the restraints loose from her arms and legs.
"Hello, Rachael, been a while, eh? I've just told our queen none would see you save through me. Don't think I lied, not technically. Get up, dearest. Time to bleed."
Without waiting for a response, the bulky man grasped the woman by her right arm and leg and hurled her across the room. She slammed against the concrete wall with a crunch, then slid hard to the ground, blood spluttering from her nose.
The man was on her before she could move, grabbing her throat and jerking her high in the air.
"You will tell me what you did to Charlie, and you' will tell me NOW!”
Blood gushed from the woman's nose, flowing down her face and dripping on the floor.
"Tell me, Rachael!"
"N-not Rach-ael," she coughed,"...Char-lie…"
"WRONG ANSWER," the man roared and started shaking her like a rag doll. When he paused, her head fell limp to one side.
"The real guard will wake soon from his unexpected nap, so I must leave you, 'dear'. But I will return, again and again, until you've told me what you did. And if Charlie's memory fails to return ...well..."
When he squeezed her throat with his massive hand, she clawed at his hands; he smiled as her spasms became first more frantic, then tapered off.
His smile vanished as he looked into the woman's darkening eyes. Were tinges of blue in them?
"Rachael? He released his choke hold and dropped her back on the bed.
Stepping back, he shouted TREIGLO:
Ripple waves warped around his body; his arms and legs compressed, hair changed to brown, joints popped, bones crunched, until…
...Kerri stood in place of the guard. She wore a body length black unitard and heelless black leather boots. With a look of concentration, her blue jeans and aqua sweater appeared.
The bloodied woman opened one eye - the other had already swollen shut. Even the open eye looked glazed, threatening to roll back into her head at any moment.
"Kur - rii?" the woman said.
Kerri studied the woman; she looked identical to Rachael …almost. Yet ...there was a something, an undefined feel to her that was ...different.
"Are you Rachael? Or are you…" she didn't finish the sentence. Nor did the woman finish it for her, answering only with the ragged breathing. Kerri checked her pulse.
“What if … if …O Goddess help me!”
Kerri fled the blood smeared cell, and soon fire alarms clanged throughout the Keep.
10.
Suz paced the Keep's infirmary observation room as Doctor Ruis processed the tests he had run on the injured woman. Several hours had passed since the attack Suz knew was carried out by Kerri.
A tall man in a crisp gray suit entered the waiting room. In his late thirties and fit, his black hair was just starting to silver on the sides. In his hands he carried several manila medical files.
"Excuse me, Miss? I'm here to see patients involved in a metaphysical accident?"
"Who the hell are you?" Suz said holding a flaming hand by her side, cocked and ready. "How did you get past the guards outside? No one is permitted in except my mother, Doctor Ruis and myself."
"Please..." the man eyed her glowing hand, "you're a Fire aren't you? Remain calm, I have no wish to be ... scorched."
The man held out his hand to her; Suz ignored the gesture, and he let his hand drop.
"Fine. My name is Doctor Ailm; John, if you please. I'm a clinical psychologist and the Queen of this Keep, asked me to make, um, an emergency house call, I guess. Is this the patient?" He motioned through a glass observation window to a woman on a hospital bed, her face swollen and bruised, with bandages wrapped around her ribs.
"That's one; the other is the man in the room two doors down. He has lost some of his memory, and she just suffered an attack. Before that, she apparently believed she was the man. It's all rather confusing."
"I met Dr. Ruis in the lab a few minutes ago, and he filled me in. I've also reviewed the MRI and EEG results he ran to determine if there was head or brain trauma to either of them."
John spread the files on a table. "You were a friend to the man?"
"Charlie? Yes. Best friends." Suz concluded the doctor was legit. She held her hand out to shake, which the doctor accepted with a smile.
"My name is Suzannah Tinne.”
"Ah! Princess Tinne! Glad to meet you. "Your mother told me you'd be here. Kerri also mentioned you in our sessions."
"I'm not much on the Princess thing. You counseled Kerri? What kind of psychologist are you?"
"I work with the California Keep. My area of specialty is counseling shape shifters for gender confusion. Kerri, and most Elfin shifters come to me for... shifter counseling, I guess."
"So, do you know how to figure out who's whom?"
“I already have. Look at these MRI and EEG results. FYI, every person's EEG pattern is unique.” John handed Suz a manilla folder. “This is Rachael's EEG from when she was held here her episode with Kerri last year.”
“Now, compare it to the EEG of our 'Rachael' in there." John handed Suz a second folder.
Suz studied the two scans. "I'm not an expert but these are different."
"Completely. Now, compare Rachael's baseline to the EEG results of the male patient." John handed a third folder to Suz.
"Whoa! They're identical! But is that possible? Their ...their brains weren't switched, right?"
I'm a mere Ordinary, Ms. Tinne, and am the last person you should ask about how your magic works. But these results are clear."
"So ...this confirms... Rachael is now in Charlie's body? And ...I'm guessing ...by logic of elimination ...Charlie is in hers?"
John nodded "I don't see how there is any other conclusion, crazy as it seems. But wait, there's more! I've reviewed MRI's from the shifters I counsel, and the MRI for uh ...Charlie - in - Rachael's body-...showed abnormal energy patterns. The patterns I'm see in shifters are blue, -since they are 'waters' of course, but look here..."
He handed the MRI scan, "See these distinct colors? Blue, red, green and white?
"What's that mean, Doc?"
"Doctor Ruis was puzzled by it, and I have no idea."
"Leaving us ...where?" Suz asked.
"You're to the point, Princess, just like your mother."
"I'm not like my mother at all, and don't call me Princess, it's Suz."
"Okay, Suz it is. Other than apparent memory loss, the male, Rachael-in-Charlie, is stable. In fact, he is, in all respects a healthy Ordinary..."
"BUT... I am concerned about Charlie-in-Rachael. Because of the existence of this unknown energy pattern, we must assess her condition now. The quickest way, I think, is for her to tell us what she is experiencing. You were close to Charlie, right? Would you talk with her and see she'll tell you?"
"Charlie and I were best friends. My coffee shop is a second home to him …er, her ...to Charlie."
"Good. It is important she talk with someone she trusts rather than a total stranger," John said.
"What should I say?"
"Your mother and Doctor Ruis told me she's disoriented. So put her at ease, and then probe to see how aware she is aware what is happening. I'll watch everything from here."
"I'm still struggling with the idea 'she' could be Charlie, but sure, happy to help. Put her at ease, huh? If she IS Charlie, I know just the thing to help. I'll just pop down to the kitchen to get it."
"So what's your pleasure?"
"Suz? Are you ...real?" the battered woman slurred ...strange stuff ...crazy dreams."
She struggled to sit up in her infirmary bed, crying out as pain jolted through her. She managed it, but not before jostling the I.V. bag next to her bed. Suz had developed a deep dislike Rachael over the years, and sitting this close to her stirred that bias. She fought to put it aside and do as John had asked; not an easy chore for a temperamental Fire.
"Yup, it's me, or it is I, or whatever is grammatically correct. So how are you feeling, 'Charlie'?"
"I'm having trouble ...concentrating." She was still panting from the exertion of sitting up. "Everything's fuzzy. Why do I ache all over? Hey! Is this Porter or Swedish hospital? Please say Porter because I may have an insurance problem if it's Swedish. And ...uh... why is everything moving in slow motion? Am I drugged?"
"Could be... we'll talk about that in a minute..." Suz eyed the woman. She couldn't help feeling sympathy for this creature, who, besides being thoroughly beaten, had a lost look in her eyes.
"...first, would you like some coffee?"
The woman's attention sparked. "C-coffee? Seriously? Man! I ...I'd kill for an Americano right now, but I'll take a cup of anything you got."
"Oh ye of little faith! An Americano it is!" Suz opened the silver carafe she had brought and poured some of it into a big white ceramic mug.
"Espresso?" The woman's attention was now engaged. "So ...uh ...how are you going steam the water?"
"Watch, um, Charlie ...here's the cool part, I mean, hot part..."
She opened a water bottle water and poured it into to the mug with the espresso. Then - brandishing her index finger.
TANAU!
A bright flame burst from Suz's finger. Fear rippled across the woman's face at the sight of the flame, and battered though she was, she struggled to draw away.
"Sorry, friend, I didn't mean to frighten you, I just need to heat this up a moment." Shed stuck her finger into the coffee, which frothed and spit. Suz counted to five, then pulled her steaming finger from the cup.
With a wary look, the woman's brought the cup to her lips. She smiled as the warm liquid traveled down her throat. "Ohmyggod! This tastes sooo good! How did you...?"
"Do it? I'm a Fire element, that's how. Of course it's good; I'm the best damn barista you'll ever meet."
"A what element? You have some sort of gag finger? Have, uh, the health inspectors seen your little finger trick?"
"No, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't alert them to this, um, non- standard heating method."
Suz watched the injured woman take another longer drink from her coffee mug …and sigh in delight. The woman's fire fear and love of coffee clicked in Suz's mind.
"So, it IS you, Charlie! Amazing! What's it like to go from yang to yin? You look like shit, by the way."
"Thanks, feel like it, too. A jack hammer is pounding my head, whenever I move, it's like someone is knifing me in my side ...and why does my voice sounds like I've been sucking helium? ...and..." Charlie's voice screeched to a halt.
"...what …do you mean ...yang to yin? ...I ...don't understand."
"You know, xy to xx... um, plus to minus ...I mean, you must feel different! Can't you?" Suz stared at Charlie's chest. "Do you really not know what's happened to you?"
A glazed look passed over Charlie's face, "...happened …to ...me?"
She raised a hand to her swollen face, and her voice lowered to a whisper, "What has happened to me? What... what do I look like?"
Suz watched Charlie's eyes growing more dilated as she processed the sensory data.
"Um ...you don't want to see your face just now, girlfr- ...um ...friend, trust me. You are one massive bruise. Hey, drink some more of my delish coffee before it gets cold!"
Charlie gave a dull nod and took long drink, then held the hot mug to her forehead and sighed in pleasure again.
Suz noted the gesture: the simple act of drinking brightened Charlie's eyes. It was as if Charlie's consciousness was on a roller coaster: sensations caused her to be mentally present, but as she tried to think through what her body was telling her, her conscious thought crumbled. Suz became alarmed again when the zombie expression spread across Charlie's face."
"Charlie? Are you with me?" Without thinking, she leaned over and shook the woman.
Charlie yelped as pain shot through her side. "God! Don't do that!" She said, grasping her side.
"Sorry! I forgot..." Suz saw Charlie's eyes were bright again. "Talk to me, Charlie, what are you feeling?"
"I..." For a moment, Charlie's eyes took on eerie clarity and she looked right through Suz. "Lord!! As I'm ... talking to you, I'm also on an island..."
"What?"
Charlie's voice was dreamy now: "I'm standing on an island, in a shimmering sea and the grass is green and soft and the trees in front of me are in bloom -they're apple trees. Oh wow, they're silver apples- and …I can smell the blossoms! And someone's walking to me! A woman …who …glows..." Charlie's voice faded and her eyes grew dark.
Suz shook Charlie again. "Snap out of it! You're babbling!"
Charlie's eyes sprang open. "Dammit, Suz! Why do you keep hurting me" Her eyes were bright, but without the eeriness of the moment before.
"What were you saying about an island?"
"Huh?"
"An island. You said something about being on an island."
"I... I did?" Charlie was clueless.
Suz resisted the temptation to shake her again. She knew she couldn't, keep torturing Charlie, to force her mind to be present. She shot a 'help me' look to the observation window.
On cue, the door to the infirmary room opened and a dark skinned elderly man in a white coat entered.
"Hello ...Charlie. I'm Doctor Ruis. How are you managing with the pain?" He said, as he readjusted Charlie's IV and injected something into it.
"D-doctor? I hurt a lot, yeah, but something's way wrong with my head...or brain..." Charlie's eyes started to droop as the drug took effect, and she slumped back onto her bed.
"Suuuuuz? Help …me …need …Kurrrrri..." Charlie whispered as her eyes fluttered closed.
11.
"I have never been so angry in all my life," Suz fumed, pacing back and forth in her mother's chambers as she, Jessica, and John awaited Mr. U's arrival from the research library.
"Now I know why Kerri wanted to beat the living crap out of Rachael. The pathetic irony was she ended up doing it to Charlie. Gods, I could just incinerate her, or him, or whatever Rachael is!" Fire flared from her fingertips like a blowtorch.
"Listen. Before we go further, I suggest we accept the pronouns 'she' and 'her' apply to Charlie, and 'he' and 'him' to Rachael," John advised. "I've learned in counseling Shifters it just adds to the confusion when you attempt to apply a pronoun to a person different from their biological gender."
"But isn't Charlie's personality male? Isn't his soul male? Isn't..."
John raised his hand to interrupt. "Wonderful questions, all. Questions about the 'gender' of personality are debated within my profession ad nauseam. . As to the soul's sex , well, there you've jumped into the abyss of metaphysics. Just because a person is a certain sex doesn't mean the soul is that sex too... perhaps Charlie was female in a previous life, if there are previous lives...who knows? We could speculate for days. Except we don't have days, so we must stick to what is certain. Which is this: Charlie is now female.”
"Ye know fre sure, doctor, it is the lad in the lassie's body?" The white haired wiry man had come breezing into the chamber.
"John , this gentleman is Mr. U, from our Northumbrian Keep ," Jessica said, rising from her desk.
"Mr. U? A rather unusual moniker." John observed.
"Me full name is Aethelfrith Uath."
"Ah! ...Mr. U it is, then!" John said with a sheepish grin.
"Mr. U is an Elf historian." Jessica explained. "And Mr. U, John is a psychologist specializing in gender disorientation to shape shifters."
"Glad te meet yee, Doctor." Mr. U said, shaking the doctor's hand.
"Likewise. And to answer your question, this woman is definitely not Rachael," John said. He summarized his findings and showed the MRI and EEG findings to Jessica and Mr. U.
"As you see, the findings are conclusive. What is baffling, though are the strange energies building in the Charlie."
"O gods! These results are incredible!" Mr. U interrupted, running his hands through his wiry hair.
"Yes, Mr. U?” Jessica said. “You have information that will enlighten us?"
"Ah reckon Rachael found a reference te a soul transference spell in the manuscript she nicked. Ah guess it didn't go quite the way she intended. But that's not all! Ya see..."
"Excuse me, what exactly is a 'soul transference spell'?” John said. “I'm not conversant in Elvin magic terms, Does this 'spell' purport to transfer a 'personality' from one body to another?"
"Aye, lad, aye. It transfers a soul! Yee hev te remember, it's a magic no longer used. It came from the time o the War O the Elements. Dark times an dark magic, don't yee know. Dark an forbidden - there be far worse ones than this spell." Mr. U's face darkened.
"But what is exciting here is something mysterious is happening, maybe something miraculous!"
"War o, ...I mean War of the Elements? Soul transference?” John sighed. “As always with you people, astonishing. But can this transference be reversed? Because it is imperative for Charlie that..."
"Reversed? No, Ah don't think so. Because what's occurrin must be by the hand O the Lady. Nothing could reverse that! Look at this..." Mr. U pointed to Charlie's MRI on Jessica's desk. "The presence of all four colors could only mean the lass is the Akasha, or could become her!"
"A-Akasha?" The doctor asked, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"The Akasha," Jessica interjected, with thinly disguised disgust, "is Mr. U's dubious theory about the salvation of the Elf peoples. The Elfish Messiah...really, Mr. U, isn't this a stretch even for you? Hmm? After all, Charlie was an Ordinary before the switch."
"Ah don't claim te understand it, woman!" the white haired man responded trembling with anger. "But the evidence is there for all te see!"
"Stop! Stop! Both of you!" Suz yelled. "We don't have time for this, do we doctor? Didn't you say Charlie's life was in danger?"
"Yes!" John said. "I won't even pretend to understand your metaphysical mumbo jumbo, but I do know this: if Charlie's present state of dysfunction continues, she could die!"
"But why?" Jessica asked. "Doctor Ruis said her vital signs were all stable."
"How do I... how do I put this? Her 'soul' was transferred by this spell? Well, then, it is as if her 'soul', hasn't accepted that the transfer occurred."
"She's in denial then?" Jessica probed.
"It's more than that. Look ...I'm sorry if I'm describing this ineptly, but there is no precedent for this, either Ordinary or Elf. We are at a crisis point - much like when organs are transplanted. There is always the moment when the body either accepts or rejects the transplant."
"Is that why she seemed half there when we talked with her, Doctor?" Suz asked.
"Exactly - that which makes her Charlie ...her psyche or... fine, her soul, seems tethered loosely to her new body. I ... fear ...unless she experiences a deep "in body" experience to strengthen the soul - body connections, insanity …or death …are probable outcomes."
"Experiences like what? That emphasize her new... body or gender?" Suz groped for his meaning.
"You saw how she responded to physical stimuli - pain, yes, but also taste. Which makes me think that she needs strong 'in body' experiences. What am I trying to say ...tactile... sensual..."
"Sex!" Suz enthused. "Hot ...sweaty..." her voice trailed off as she remembered she was standing next to her mother.
"Sex would be the most direct experience," John answered, "but it would also exacerbate her gender disorientation, which would work against, the process of connecting her body and psyche. We'll have to deal with gender disorientation at some point, but, right now, we're scrambling just to keep her body and soul from flying apart!" John paused to marshal his thoughts.
"Better, for her, I think, to immerse her in experiences that entice her senses of taste, touch, sight, sound and smell. Then maybe the bond will strengthen," John said. "Anyway, that's all I can think of for this unprecedented situation"
"Listen, Doc," Mr. U implored, "whatever you think you need te keep the Akasha alive, then you shall have it! Spare no expense!"
"Stop right there! You do not speak for the Rocky Mountain Keep, Mr. U, and I will not waste the resources of my people to validate your pet theory. As I said earlier, I live in the real world and deal with real problems."
"But mother! Didn't you hear? Charlie's life is in danger!"
"Daughter, I have been more than generous so far. I've flown in John and made the full medical facilities of the Keep available. But I will not give carte blanche approval for this, especially if it is to prove this absurd Akasha theory. I'm sorry, child, but we are well equipped to handle this here."
"Child? Child?" Suz' voice grew loud and inflected up. "We will let the doctor do whatever he needs to save Charlie's life! Is that clear enough for you, Mother dear?"
Jessica's spine stiffened. "You dare question my authority, you who can't be bothered with even the smallest of the responsibilities of your rank?"
"I'm doing more than questioning your authority, Mother. If you refuse to give my friend the help she needs, then I will challenge you!"
"This is no game, Princess Tinne,” Jessica said. “The consequences may be fatal. Issue closed."
"I am serious; either provide the doctor with all he needs, or face me now. Challenge made!"
Suz stepped a few paces away from Jessica. Raising her arms over her head, she shouted:
CYLCHIO TANLLWYTH!
A ball of bright red flame burst around Suz forming a bright glowing nimbus. Suz stood its center - unharmed by its heat, her face set with grim determination.
Jessica remained seated, weighing potentials and possibilities. At last she nodded and said "so be it. Challenge accepted!"
Jessica in the opposite direction from Suz , turned to face her, and then shouted:
CYLCHIO TANLLWYTH!
Soon, Jessica was encircled by her own brilliant flames.
"We best be getting out O the way, doctor," Mr. U said, as he grabbed a stunned John by his arm and pulled him to a corner of the room.
On cue, two columns of fire shot from each of the nimbuses, exploding against the other at the halfway point between Suz and Jessica. Waves of heat and light were thrown into the room. For the second time that day, fire alarms sounded throughout the Keep.
What happened next could best be described as a reverse tug-of-war: two energy forces pushing, trying to overcome the other; in this instance, the forces were pillars of flaming hot energy.
The heat was so oppressive, John fear his clothing would burst into flame; when he felt a cool breeze blow over him. He glanced at Mr. U and guessed the air was coming from him. He mouthed 'thank you' and turned back to the duel, to see that Suz's fire advancing toward Jessica.
When it neared Jessica, she shouted YMRODDI! I concede."
As if a switched had been turned off, the fire pillars and nimbuses vanished. Jessica wore an expression of pure exhaustion on her face; she knelt down on one knee to avoid face planting on the floor.
Suz rushed to Jessica. "Mother! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"Hush, Daughter, I'm fine," she said in a weak voice. Jessica took her daughter's offered hand and pulled herself back to her feet. Her face was pure pride.
"I had no idea you were this powerful! When did you develop it?"
"There is an old quarry near Leadville I go to, to practice, and, you know, I go to Burning Man every year to really cut loose,”
"Hmm. Perhaps I should go with you next fall?"
"Mother, you have no idea what goes at..."
Suz stopped speaking as she looked into Jessica's face; it pained her to see her mother looking so frail.
"...sure. I'd love to have you come along, or ...or maybe we could go somewhere else together? ...And ...and I've been thinking ...maybe I could get an assistant at the Junction, so I could spend more time here, ya know, helping you, and ..."
"And? And what?"
Suz's voice became soft and she stared at the ground. "Assuming my duties..."
"Oh my! I thought I was uninjured by our dual, but perhaps my ears were damaged. Did you say the words 'assume' and 'duty'?"
"Don't make this harder than it already is!"
Jessica smiled and hugged her daughter. "If I'd known all it took for you to accept you leadership role was provoking you to almost crisp me, I'd of tried it years ago"
She hugged Suz again. "We have much to talk about, my Suzy. But first, let's address the matters at hand. Since I imagine you did not challenge my authority to assume the queenship now..."
"No. Nooooo! All I wanted was to make sure we did everything that we could for Charlie, and-"
"-Fine, dear. You've proven your point. Or rather, you won your point. Since you have finally agreed to assuming more of your duties here, I can delegate authority to you with a clear conscience. You may use whatever resources we have to aid you friend ...within reason of course."
"Thank you, Mother. I hope this little exercise isn't the template for resolving every little disagreement we have." Suz said, grinning.
"Gods no! We should talk...talking is good. I much prefer talking to frying."
"Would someone tell me what just happened!?" John shouted, managing to break his stunned silence.
"Calm yourself, Doctor.” Mr. U said. “Have you never witnessed an Elf dual?"
"No, sorry, ESPN2 isn't carrying those ...yet."
"Well, it was a tame one te be sure. Injury an death are often the outcome,” Mr. U said.
"Tame? TAME?! Perhaps you and I should spar to see how tame I am," Suz's eyes blazed. "But enough of this. Dr Ailm, you heard the nice Queen, we can do whatever is necessary to help Charlie, so get moving! Hopefully, her treatment doesn't involve building a state-of-the-art medical facility on the moon or something.
"Nothing so drastic. I do have a treatment in mind, which may offer a chance to stabilize Charlie, and it doesn't involve expensive or exotic medical equipment. It's just that-"
"-Just what, doctor? The Akasha must be saved!” Mr. U said. “You've heard the Princess tell you te proceed wi whatever treatment you think necessary. What are yee still struggling with?”
"No, just the opposite. I'm struggling because my solution seems ...far ...too ...simple."
III. Conclusioni
12.
After the plane flight, they drove on freeways, interstates, two lane highways, and finally onto the twisting curves of a country road. On either side of the road, the arms of ancient oaks seemed to reach out to welcome them. The upward road led through avocado and then citrus groves, past a serene pond, coming at last, to a white stone gate turned rosy by the sunset.
The sign on the gate read 'The Silver Moon - a holistic spa and resort.'
"A ...spa? Suz, I …don't understand ..." Charlie stammered. "Why aren't we going to an ultra high-tech medical lab of some sort..."
"Calm down, Charlie, the good doctor here diagnosed this treatment would be best for your recovery."
"Or ...or shouldn't I be in a psych ward? Having tests done?"
"Why do you think so, Charlie?" John asked.
"I ... don't …know..." Her soft voice trailed off.
"Never mind" John soothed. He believed her questioning to be positive sign; Charlie's conscious awareness of her 'condition' was firming. But he also knew how fragile her psyche was as well.
"Don't try to make rational sense of this. No analyzing, thinking or worrying while you are here. Recovery and relaxation only; doctor's orders. We're here."
A round smiling Polynesian woman dressed in a full-length forest green silk kimono greeted them, as their limo rolled to a stop in the circular drive.
"Welcome to Silver Moon! I'm Sarah Ngetal..."
“Sarah, it's been too long,” John said, as he stepped from the car.
"Dr. John, good to see you again,” Sarah said. “I see you shaved your goatee..."
"Reea-lly! A goatee?" Suz squealed with glee. "Oooh, I would have paid to see that!"
"I liked it,” Sarah said. “it made him look older but more, devilish, hmm? And Princess Tinne, it's been far too long since your last visit as well."
"You're telling me!" Suz gave Sarah a strong hug and kiss on the cheek. "Good to see you, Sarah. Go easy on the 'Princess Tinne' stuff, if you please."
"As you wish, Princess Suz." Sarah smiled when Suz stuck out her royal tongue. Sarah turned next to greet Charlie, the last to leave the car.
"And this must be ...Charlie?" A look of concern replaced her amused expression as John helped the injured woman out. Charlie grimaced in pain as she straightened.
"Gods! Look what's become of you! Your poor face! Are you in pain, love? I'm …soo sorry this happened to you!" Tears welled in the woman's eyes.
"Roll with it, Charlie," Suz whispered, in answer to Charlie's mystified expression, "Sarah is an Earth. They're big time nurturers, though Sarah is a little over the top today."
Sarah took her cue and stood back apace. "Sorry, love, I can be a bit overwhelming. But you have nothing to fear from me or this place... it is a spa, nothing more. No dark elf magic here, but as our professional staff is elfin, we have a unique advantage over our competitors. You haven't experienced a hot stone massage until you've been given one by a Fire masseuse."
"F-fire?" Charlie looked alarmed.
"Relax, Charlie, no flames, just heated rocks," Suz said.
"Oh." Charlie said, relieved.
Sarah turned back John. "Per your instructions, we've arranged to begin Charlie's treatment immediately. Suz, I understand you'll be with Charlie during the week. We'll be able to work in some treatments of your own, I'm sure."
"While that would be divine, I'm here for Charlie, not me." She took Charlie's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Suz, why exactly am I here?" Charlie whispered.
"Remember!" Suz whispered back, "no questions."
"Doctor, we've arranged your room in the men's wing of our staff quarters." Sarah said. "Please settle in and relax. As this is a 'women only' spa, you won't be able to accompany Charlie for many of her treatments. The dining area, dance, yoga studio, and gardens are open to you, however. Someone will be along to show you to your room."
"A women only place? But..." Panic crept into Charlie's voice.
"Stop fretting this instance, love!" Sarah said. "Doctor, they will meet you in the dining room in two hours...ish. Now, Charlie, Suz, if you'll follow me..."
Charlie shot Suz an anxious look, but the Fire elf smiled and pulled Charlie forward.
"Trust me, Charlie, this place you're gonna love."
John swigged another sip from the golden yellow wine and gazed out of the dining room window. Breakers crashed rhythmically on the rocky beach below. Candles lit the elegant table and the relaxed murmur of the other guests surrounded him.
He tried to let the soothing atmosphere of the resort seep into him, but he could not stop worrying about Charlie. It was so hard to know whether he was making progress at all - the case was in uncharted waters.
“And thar be dragons,” he murmured.
He turned from the starry ocean vista, to see Sarah with Charlie and Suz in tow. Charlie wore azure silk drawstring pants, a matching silk tunic shirt with gold embroidering on the sleeve edges and neckline, and simple blue thong sandals. Her white hair was drawn into a pony tail.
John also saw her eyes were clearer, and her bruises had faded away. Given the severity of the bruising, he wondered if they were disappearing too quickly, but before he could think further, Suz appeared.
His eyes were pulled to the sight of her; she wore a full-length red silk kimono robe, with golden fire spewing dragons embroidered on the front. Her blazing scarlet hair had been French braided and hung down her back. She radiated so much 'hotness' John reached for his ice water.
"Doctor, I deliver the refreshed Charlie and Suz as promised,” Sarah said.
Charlie slid into the chair across from the doctor, while Suz sat next to him.
"Are you in luck tonight!" Sarah gushed. "One of the starters is aubergine cannelloni with feta, roast vegetables and pesto. It's a personal favorite of mine. And you're drinking the Chá¢teau Guiraud?"
John nodded, barely listening; he was engaged in the art of in unobtrusively checking Suz out.
"Excellent choice,” Sarah said. “It pairs well with the aubergine and the steamed salmon main. Enjoy."
"Sarah?" Charlie asked, her soft voice just audible.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Thanks for ...taking care of me. The herbal steam treatment and …and mineral shower …were amazing." Charlie closed her eyes and sighed.
"It's the least we can, considering what you've been through. I have even more relaxing treatments planned for you tomorrow! I'll see you through this, love," she said with a sad smile, before she turned and walked away.
"I see they found clothes for you to wear." John stated, trying to steer his mind from wondering if Suz was wearing any under her robe.
"According to Sarah, Charlie can only wear silky things while she's here, except when she's not wearing anything at all." Suz replied in a sensual drawl.
John shifted in his seat. "Oh. What's the theory behind that interesting house rule?"
"Well, she says one of Silver Moon's philosophies is a deep engagement of the five senses. The silk clothes are for 'touch'...John? Are you okay? You seem nervous."
"Is it hot in here?" He took another gulp of ice water. "So. What do you think, Charlie?"
"About the clothes?"
Charlie leaned forward and spoke in a lowered tone:
"They're so smooth and fluid. I've never worn anything like 'em. And the fabric is sensitive on these ...floppy ..." She cupped her breasts and looked down at them.
"Your breasts?"
"...breasts ...these ...yes."
John noted Charlie's inability to refer to her breasts in the possessive sense. "Sensitive, as in irritating?"
"Uh, no ...as in, um ...as in ...enjoyable?" her voice trailed off, her face reddened and she looked away. After as moment Charlie turned back to him.
"Could I have a glass of wine right now, please, Doctor, uh, Ailm?"
"Yes, Charlie, very good. I'm not sure if we've even been properly introduced. I'm Doctor John Ailm, and I'm a clinical psychologist," he said as he poured into her glass. She grabbed it and took a deep drink.
"Some wine for you, also, Princess?"
"No thanks, I'm a red wine lover. And don't call me Princess, doctor, I'm not comfortable with a title." Suz answered.
"Then stop calling me 'Doctor.' My name is John."
The dinner continued much this way, with John gently probing Charlie with questions and struggling mightily to not ogle Suz, until Charlie yawned. Sarah appeared at her side.
"Charlie, time for one last treatment before you go to bed. I want you to try our sleep enhancer treatment.”
"I'm already way way relaxed," Charlie answered, in a drunken inflection. "Ya think I need it tonight?"
"It will make a marked difference in the quality of your sleep. It's an electro acupuncture treatment that stimulates the body's acupuncture points to produce the most peaceful sleep you'll ever have."
Charlie looked to Suz, but Suz simply stood and gave her a hug.
"I had this treatment the last time I was here. Beyond description! It gives you the most amazing dreams and eliminates hangovers."
"O-okay I guess ...you'll be here when... when...I" Charlie called back as she followed Sarah.
"Relax Charlie, I'll be there, we're sharing a room. Hope you don't snore."
After Charlie was out of earshot, Suz turned back to John.
"So what do you think? How is she doing? Is she accepting the change?"
"First, let me say that I've never had a case like this, so everything I say falls into the 'speculation' category."
"Weasel qualification noted, John, you shoulda been a lawyer. Now spill! What can we expect tomorrow?"
"I do think she's starting to accept her body change on an unconscious level."
"So good, yes? That's what wasn't happening before, you said. So are we out of the woods?"
"Mmm, yes ...and no. It's good she's starting to accept her new body, but acceptance brings its own set of troubles. Now she will have to deal the gender change on an egotistical and intellectual level."
"And this means... what?"
"First, don't be surprised if Charlie exhibits regressive behavior as she tries to assimilate her changes."
"Regressive behavior? Help me out here, doc."
"Okay, regression has several causes, but in Charlie's instance, it will be a defensive mechanism in reaction to the trauma of her changes. She may not be yet able to exert intellectual responsibly for her new body, and will revert from a genital to pregenital developmental phase."
"A what phase, doc? Mercy! Give me a 'for instance'!"
"For instance, she may take on a childlike persona."
"Okay, I think I understand ...she starts acting like a child. How long will that last?"
"A few hours, a couple of days... years... who knows?"
"I hoped you would, John. Take a guess at it."
John closed his eyes as he puzzled. "Okay, okay, let's review ...I've been impressed by Charlie's resiliency. Her inner strength is astonishing! And have you noticed how fast she is healing? There is something more going on, although as to what-"
A heat wave blew across him and when he opened his eyes - saw Suz's glowing hand near his face.
"W-what?"
"Sorry, doc, I thought maybe your brain froze up." Suz said, grinning. "Now out with it or I'll really turn up the heat!"
"Fine! My guess is the duration of this phase will be short."
"Let's hope so! And so once through this she becomes okay?"
"As long as I am guessing, once through that phase, Charlie could become suicidal."
Suz paused to see if he was joking. When she saw he was not she burst with anger and concern. "Gods, no! This can't be how it ends! Why isn't your treatment designed to prevent this?"
"Suz, calm down. My treatment is designed to lead to this point. Look. Charlie is being asked to adapt to something completely illogical for, say, 99.99% of people on the planet. Think about it -shape shifters aside- someone who could ...easily and instantly... accept an exchange of bodies...with another individual, would be by far the exception and not the norm, psychologically. It's not normal to do that. I expect at some point, the rational, mature conscious mind of Charlie may conclude a logical solution to this illogical situation is to seek a permanent end."
"Suicide? Oh wonderful, she'll figure out she needs to off herself. Great advice, doc. Don't you have trouble getting your bills paid, if all your patients whack themselves?"
"I didn't say we would let her, 'Princess'." He responded with heat of his own. "We need to give her reasons not to do that!"
"And those reasons would be, what 'Doctor'?"
"Don't worry; I've got a plan in place and ready to spring if this scenario arises. Trust me."
"You know, Johnny, I've been getting to like you over the past days. Like, as in thinking we would have a lot of fun together. A LOT of fun. But if Charlie commits suicide, I'm gonna stick a skewer up your ass, hang you over a spit and roast you!"
"Um ...so noted," John said, reaching again for the ice water and gulping down the cool liquid.
13.
"Good morning, Charlie. How was the sunrise yoga class?" John asked. He was waiting outside the yoga studio as Charlie, Suz and Sarah exited.
"Oh, hi... Dr. ...Ailm?"
"Yes, its true. I'm still Doctor Ailm. Please call me John, though. Now, did you enjoy the class?"
"I... I did. I'm not as sore today, and this ...this body ...is waaaay more flexible than my old one," Charlie chirped.
"Ah, excellent, Charlie," John replied, thinking, and so the regressive phase begins.
He was pleased Charlie was at least admitting a change had occurred, but he did not want her to press here on it ...yet.
"You had no trouble with the poses?"
"She did well. She found her balance point in a snap." Sarah said, then noticed Charlie was grinning from ear to ear.. "Yes, Charlie?"
"I can touch my toes! Watch!" Charlie bent at her waist and touched both palms of her hands flat on the floor. "I never could do that before! I can touch my toes."
"You know, back when I was putting in endless years of studying to become a psychologist, my instructors said there would be emotional break throughs and events of healing for my patients that would make it all worth it. You can touch your toes, Charlie, superlative."
"Buzzkill much, John?" Suz chided. "They all don't have to be, you know, deep Sybil moments, do they? I think it's great you can touch your toes, Charlie."
"Wanna see again? Wanna?"
"Not right now, little girl," Sarah said, "we need to get you to your next treatment. The yoga class should have relaxed you for it. You remember the last pose we did?"
"Where I was laying like a dead man on the floor? I imagined I was a chalk outline at the scene of a muuur-der." Charlie answered.
"Well, yes," Sarah answered. "That's one name for it, 'corpse pose'. It's also called 'savasana'. Though it looks easy, it's one of the hardest poses, and the sequences of many yoga classes are meant to lead to it - so that you are able to totally relax into it."
While they talked, Sarah led them through the spa corridors, and when she stopped, they stood in front of a candle lit room with a massage table sitting in the middle. Sage incense wafted toward them through the door.
"Ready for a hot stone massage? Normally, I'm assisted by a Fire from my staff, but if Suz wouldn't mind doing the stone heating honors, I think we can manage to give you another mind and body blowing experience.
"Nope." Charlie said.
"Why, Charlie?" Sarah asked.
"Don't waan-na!"
"But the rocks relax the muscles in a way that allows the masseuse to massage much deeper than a normal massage." Sarah said.
Suz's eyes brightened. "Charlie, they'll be no flames at all, I promise."
"Promise? Cross your heart and hope to die?"
"Cross my heart."
Charlie went silent for a moment. "'Kay, I guess."
"And so I must say goodbye to you now, Charlie, as I'm not permitted in here," John said. "I'll catch up with you later."
"'Bye, Doctor, I mean, Johnny. Er, Doctor Johnny." Charlie giggled, and followed Suz and Sarah into the massage room.
From the doorway, John heard Sarah order, "Off with the clothes dear and onto the table. "
He smiled when he heard her whiny teenage reply: "Is this secretly a nudist colony? I mean, my God, everywhere I go it's off with the clothes ...off with the clothes..."
"As you seem the most 'aware' since we began this treatment, do you have any questions about ...what has happened to you?"
It was the two for dinner that night. Though he found himself craving Suz's presence, John suggested he dine with Charlie alone. The treatments and trust had progressed to the point where a genuine counseling session was possible. Charlie sat silent for so long John was afraid she was lapsing into another non-cognitive episode. When, she made eye contact; they were clear. He observed her dark retinas were showing more sparks of blue. He also noticed her bruises had disappeared and her white blond hair showed black streaks
“What is a soul?”
"Pardon?" The questioned came out of nowhere.
"A soul... what is it? Is it something immortal, separate from the body? Can it exist independent of the body? Or in many bodies ...or… “she sighed and waved her hands in the air, “…what am I trying to say?"
"So out of the child's stage and into the fire" John mumbled.
"What, Doctor, er John?"
"Nothing." John replied, as he tried to calm his pulse - which started racing when he realized this was Charlie's first attempt to rationalize the body switch. The 'moment of truth', so to speak.
"Interesting questions, Charlie, why do you ask?"
"I ask because ...because I want to know, that's why," she snarled.
"Let me think. Jung spoke of it in terms of the unconscious. So, if you are a man, your 'ego' or consciousness will be male. Jung believed that in such a situation, your unconsciousness, your soul image, if you will, is female. He called it the anima. And it would be reversed in women so that..."
"John! Suz told me you've counseled Kerri and others of these people-"
"-Elves."
"Fine. You've counseled these elves or hobbit people or whatever they are! Who can change their bodies, change their fucking bodies! And then ...this …happens to me." She motioned to her body.
So close! he thought. He could only imagine the wild inner turmoil raging in her.
"I..." she bit her lower lip and looked away from him, to the waves crashing on rocks outside the restaurant. Shaking her head, she back to him.
"So magic exists, John and what you are one moment changes the next,” she snapped her fingers, “and everything you are is lost! Forever. So don't speak to me in academic terms. I want answers! What is a soul?"
John remained silent, although he didn't understand where her thoughts were headed, the best course he could take was to allow Charlie her space to sort this through.
He guessed she felt the same uncertainty his shifter patients experienced when their first post puberty gender shift occurred. Verbalizing these doubts was a productive tool in every case he'd handled.
There was an edge in her voice that disturbed him. With his shifter patients, at least they were raised with the understanding this radical change would occur. Charlie was tossed into the fire without warning.
She turned silent again. When she looked into his eyes again, he could swear her eyes were bluer now than even moments ago. What was going on with her?
"I've got a woman's body now. That's what you want me to say, isn't it?”
"Yes! I have wanted you to recognize it, Charlie," John said with obvious relief.
"How could I not, John? Every 'treatment' at this place forces my awareness of ... this new body I'm in, and it's damn sure NOT male! And hell, doctor, every time I pee I'm reminded of what I am and am not!"
"How do you feel about that?"
"Ha! What a question! Bet you've been dying to ask me that one. Okay, here goes: ... I'm scared shitless! But not for the reasons you think. Being changed to this body doesn't feel strange. There's something familiar about it, something …just beyond the reach of my memory. I can't pin it down, but I think something that happened to me a long time ago was bad. Something I never want again."
"I don't follow you, Charlie."
"Here's how it is ...I'm alone ...and lost …and out of control. I hate this feeling! HATE it!”
She looked past him again, out of the restaurant window to darkness beyond. Then, in the softest of voices, she said, "Where is Kerri? I wish she were with me."
"Those are normal rational reactions, Charlie..." he stopped, knowing how moronic his words sounded. There was nothing normal about this situation.
"Sorry. That sounded insipid. Out of curiosity, why did you ask about the soul?"
"W-what? Oh, just curious. Since what happened to me proves souls exist, I wondered other things as well. Like, after we die -in a certain way- was ...um ...Dante right about the second ring of the seventh circle."
"You mean Dante as in Inferno? I avoided it like the plague in college. Could you tell me more about this reference?"
Charlie didn't respond. In fact, she said little else the rest of the dinner. When their evening was over, John walked Charlie to her room and watched her climb into bed - Suz was curled up and fast asleep in her bed.
When he returned to his room, he went on line follow up her Dante reference. At an Inferno site, he learned the second ring of the seventh circle of Hell was reserved for suicides. He lunged for his cell and dialed.
"It's me. Listen, her regressive phase has passed. She's accepted what has happened, and is thinking of ways to resolve it, so ...show time! BE READY!"
After he clicked the phone off he ran back to her room, and was relieved to find Charlie and Suz fast asleep. He sat outside their door until dawn, and Sarah, arrived.
14.
"Watch her. NEVER let her be alone, John said. “I've been here all night, and need some zzzs."
Charlie's Tibetan chime alarm clock sounded, drawing a wake-up yawn from the girl. Sarah peeked in, to see Charlie stretching her arms. She nodded 'okay' to John, and walked in.
"Morning, sunshine." Sarah whispered. "6:00AM. Time for your last treatment! Try not to wake Suz. I've learned the hard way if you wake her before 8:00 A.M. she explodes - literally. Slip out of your jams and into this robe."
Charlie eyed the short silk robe. "And the rest of my clothes follow ...when?"
"Goods news there, honey. You'll need the robe for a little while, then you won't be needing anything at all."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Charlie grumbled. Moments later, she followed the cheery woman into the hallway, and John.
"Good morning, Charlie, Sleep well?
John looked gaunt and grayer to Charlie. "Doc, you look like a tree full of owls."
"What?"
"You look tired."
"Ah! I had trouble sleeping last night. Are you okay?"
"Am I okay? Am I okay?" Charlie's voice volume started to rise. "How can I answer that ...I don't even know who 'I' am!"
Anger poured from her. "I thought I was a thirty one year old man... I thought I was over six feet tall... I thought I had curly black hair, blue eyes..."
"Ssshhh, dearie, you'll wake 'her highness'. And …it's too early to be getting worked into a metaphysical lather. Only Airs do that at this time of the day. Let's get a light breakfast in you and then I'm going to take you to our flotation chamber, for an experience unlike anything you've ever had. As Suz said, the dreams people have in them are amazing"
"I've been having ...strange dreams at night already, Sarah. Though nothing could be stranger than what I am living now!"
"Can I interest you in that breakfast, sugar? Strawberries and cream await you - I picked them myself- and Tanya baked a nut bread that will knock your socks off, if you had any on. Oh, I almost forgot, before she went to bed, Suz gave the staff specific instructions for preparing the coffee you are to be served..."
"Did you say coffee? And Suz left instructions?"
"Explicit."
"What are we waiting for; java awaits! We'll pick this up later doctor," Charlie said, as she pulled Sarah down the hallway.
15.
Sarah led Charlie to a large purple lit room holding four large white egg shaped capsules. Sarah walked to the one and pressed a button on a nearby wall panel. Charlie heard a click and the top of capsule popped open. Charlie peered in at what looked like an oversized bathtub.
"Uh, Sarah? What is this? It looks like something from a sci-fi movie."
"It's a flotation chamber, Charlie. Did you know that ninety percent of your brain's activity is taken up with dealing with gravity, direction and balance?"
" I confess, this is not a fact on the tip of my tongue, Charlie said.
"Well, it should be, at least for the next hour or so,” Sarah said. “That's how long we are going to set you free from the constraints of gravity. The chamber is filled with extra concentrated salt water, which makes a person so buoyant that it comes as close to a zero gravity experience as is possible on Earth."
"You mean weightlessness? That sounds interesting..."
"It's more than that, dear,” Sarah answered. “Once we seal you in, all external stimulation is blocked, and you will experience a state of complete sensory relaxation."
"Wait! Wasn't the whole point of my treatments was to expose me to maximum sensory stimulation."
"So you were listening more than we thought, eh Charlie? You've been at Silver Moon, what, three days now? We've thrown messages, herbal wraps, yoga, steam baths and gastronomic delights at you. Now it's time to get more with less. You just lay back and float -nothing else to do. So...off with the robe and in you go."
"Yes, of course, 'off with the robe'," Charlie sighed as the chamber door shut. "Hey! You folks ever heard of a swimming suit?"
16.
A branch of the apple-tree from Emain
I bring, like those one knows;
Twigs of white silver are on it,
Crystal brows with blossoms.
-Voyage of Bran mac Febal
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is blooming there.
-W. B. Yeats
Charlie's mind drifted the instant the door clanged shut. As she floated, she sensed movement, as if her body was being carried on a gentle wave.
She could have floated for minutes or years, for all she knew (or didn't know), but her consciousness stirred again as her foot brushed something.
'Sand?'
Perplexed, Charlie rose…
And found she stood on an island beach. In front of her gentle hills sloped upward, covering in soft spring green grasses where the sand stopped.
To the west, the sun crept below the horizon, turning sky to glowing orange pink. To the east, the moon rose full, mirroring her setting brother. The evening stars twinkled overhead.
Farther inland, Charlie wandered to a stand of trees, covered in pink-yellow- white blossoms:
A figure emerged, a woman; her olive skinned face lit the golden setting sun, head haloed in silver by the rising moon. A breeze filtered through apple blossoms, caressing her silky black hair with incense. She wore a flowing purple robe, gathered around her waist by a cord. Around her neck hung a silver pendant: moon and star. Her eyes were pools numinous dark, a blackness that shone.
"Brightest blessings on you, my donella."
"H-hello. Where is this place? Is this your land? I'm sorry; I don't mean to trespass. I ...I have no idea how I got here."
The woman flashed a dazzling smile. "My land indeed, from here to there and everything between. But trespass? Never you, my donella. This is your home, and for too long I have awaited your return.”
This place was home, Charlie knew this. As she knew this woman, this Lady too.
"W-why do you call me... donella?"
"Because you are my donella, my little dark-haired elf lass. What would you have me call you?"
Other names, from past times, whispered to her, but she shook her head.
"How about Charlie?"
The Lady laughed, and bells chimed in Charlie's head.
"I know you by another name, but Charlie it is. Walk with me. Donella Charlie, and
"And I...I don't have dark hair, you see. I mean I did ...when I was me ...before ...before I was changed to this body... but now my hair's white, and...
"Are you sure, donella?"
Charlie gathered the ends of her hair in her hand; shiny soft black hair.
"But it was white when...when I..." Charlie sighed, "This is a dream, right?"
"All is dream, beloved, but less here than there."
"I don't understand..."
"Though you think this place as dream, it is more real than the world you live in. Know also more than your hair has changed. …much …more"
Charlie's gaze shot lower. To see her chest was fuller than before.
"Changed? Again? I don't..."
"...understand, donella? How often you speak the word! Are you in a perpetual state of bewilderment?"
Charlie's back stiffened. "I'm as smart as the next guy, er gal...I mean..." her shoulders slumped. “So much has happened.”
Her eyes flashed. "I know you, don't I? Who are you? Are you ...making this happen? WHY?"
"Because you are my vessel, my Akasha. And, though it be vanity, I could not have my daughter looking ...as you did."
"Daughter? I don't..."
"Sshhh, yes, I know, you don't understand," the woman said, putting a finger to Charlie's lips. "Let me show you all I mean."
She took Charlie's hand. "Come with me; there's someone I want you to meet."
She led Charlie into the ring of ancient apple trees. Though the trees forming the grove's ring were dappled in silver white blossoms, in its center stood an older and larger tree more wondrous still: its green leafed limbs reached high above, touching the twilight sky. Its massive brown roots stretched deep into the earth. And from its branches hung acorns, hazel nuts and sparkling silver apples.
"This is the Elder, Charlie. Before the earth was formed and all the trees were born, he was long here."
The Lady plucked an apple. She handed it to Charlie. "Eat it, beloved, and know!"
Charlie looked at the silver apple shimmering in her palm. She brought the apple to her lips and bit into its cool center, and
the universe exploded
sending her/at once
everywhere and nowhere.
she was:
earth of green lush valleys
water of dark blue seas,
fire of bright flaming suns.
wind over snow capped mountains.
Creation NOW brimmed her heart,
and infinity's sorrow drowned her soul.
Then she remembered:
Images flowed before her, of her life as Charlie, and her life before that, and the one before that, and before that, and before that, and before that, and before that…
until …she came to one that made her scream.
"They burn me! Though I led them, loved them, healed them of their sickness, they burned me."
She fell to her knees before the Lady. "Mother! Do not make me do this, I beg you!"
The Lady stroked Charlie's hair.
"The choice is yours, donella, always. But consider. The pain you felt in one instant I have always. The world screams her agony to me; my children, elves and humans, live shadow lives. With each age it worsens. The balance must be restored. I can do this, through you. Consider."
"Don't make me the Akasha again, Lady! Let me be normal, let me be no one! They tortured me before, will they not do so again?"
"Sshh, love. They will do as they will. We offer choice and hope. You have been absent too long from them; they drink nothing but dust. Oh how they thirst!"
Tears fell from the Lady's eyes, and where they touched the ground, silver flowers sprang forth. She lifted Charlie to her feet and held head against her breast.
"Consider, my donella, consider …Now...it is time for you to return to time."
"Will I …remember this?" Charlie asked, as the grove shimmered and blurred.
"You will remember all, though not all at once, for the finite mind only holds so much infinity."
"And so she brings a touch of the divine to the plane of space and time, my Lady?"
"Perhaps, my Lord." She turned eastward to greet the light, to greet the Lord. "Perhaps, if she accepts."
"And why would she not? She has done so before."
"Well do you know, she hasn't accepted since your church burned her, my Lord."
"Well do I know,” He let out a long sigh. "Though I sent her judges visions of her innocence and mercy, still they sent her to the stake. Well do I know."
"Her soul was greatly wounded; in all her lives since, she has chosen to be neither elfin nor female."
"Even her present one. You have, I think, bent our rule not to interfere with free will, Love, arranging events as you have."
"My Akasha can only come to me as a donella, it my way. So I bent our rule, yes, but did not break it, for after all, the choice still is hers. I had to do this; I could no longer bear the world's pain in silence!"
"I do not criticize, for I have, on occasion, entered the world..."
"Even then You allowed choice, even when they did what they did to you." She stroked His palms.
"Even then," He answered softly..
"And so I will at the last, let her decide."
"How she will choose, Lady?"
"I know not, but I think perhaps, love will win out. Or rather, I hope so..."
"Shall we look ahead to see her choice, to offer guidance, perhaps?"
"Lead me not into temptation, my Lord. For I may not be able to resist the urge to force her decision."
"Then let us think of other temptations, my Lady, to distract you."
"What did you have in mind?" She smiled, and drew close to His face. And nibbled His ear.
"What shall we create together this time, hmmm? A world? A star? Or a universe?"
17.
"Sarah! You won't believe the dream I...What? Why are you looking at me that way?"
"C-Charlie?"
"Yup, though I've landed in some insane woman's body, in a world gone crazy. What's wrong now?"
"You've …changed again."
"What do you mean," Charlie asked as Sarah helped her from the capsule and placed a thick robe around her shoulders. Sarah led Charlie across the room to a mirror.
Charlie regarded her image in silence. She was stunned; not by the changes in her features though the changes were great indeed - silky black hair, wet from the capsule water, glistened as it lay far down her back. Her finger tips traveled to her face, to touch full red lips, high cheek bones and arched eyebrows. Then her hands dropped as she became mesmerized her own crystal blues eyes, staring back.
No, what struck her hard was not her radical change from Rachael's features, but in how familiar this new face looked.
"It wasn't a dream," Charlie whispered. Something tugged at her. Some duty. Charlie walked out of the flotation room and into the hallway.
"Charlie? Stop honey" Sarah trailed after her. "Let's find somewhere for you to sit a while and we'll sort this out. I'll call John and..."
Charlie stood now in front of a closed massage room with an 'occupied' sign in front. She placed her hard on the doorknob.
"No, Charlie, not in there; that's Mrs. Paddins session; she shouldn't be disturbed. She's a terminal patient who came here before she moves into the hospice. Her last wish. I'll find an open room and..."
Charlie opened the door and walked in, and to the massage table where a woman lay face down.
The masseuse barely manage a faint "What are you doing?" whisper before Charlie laid hands on Mrs Paddin's sallow body. White sparks flowed from her hands into the sick woman. She stirred.
"Trin dear? Whatever you just did felt wonderful! My body is tingling all over!"
Charlie stumbled backwards now, as she, Sarah and the masseuse stared at her hands.
Sarah grabbed her and yanked her from the room.
"What did you do to her? Did you harm her? Her children scrimped and saved to send her here for one last pleasure in life, for goodness sake! Her body is riddled with cancer!"
"Not anymore it isn't," Charlie whispered, still looking at her hands.
"W-what do you mean, Charlie?"
"Charlie? Yeah, that's my name now, but I've had others, like La pucelle d'Orléans, or … or …Joan."
Fear filled Charlie's eyes, as she relived past terrors.
"I... I can't do this! Not again! Not again!" Charlie screamed as she fled.
Her fear grew; Charlie was nowhere to be found in the Silver Moon complex. Frantic, she scanned the grounds, and spied a small figure walking to the edge of a nearby ocean bluff. The craggy limestone cliff stood dozens of stories high and sheered to jagged dark boulders below. Her heart pounded faster.
She bounded up the gravel path to the cliff, screaming Charlie's name. The gale ocean breeze blew her words back.
"Charlie! Stop!" She was sprinting, yelling, waving her arms.
When Charlie turned to her, and saw the wildness in young woman's eyes.
"Stop …what ...are ...you ...doing ... " She panted when she drew near, and bent over, hands to knees, to catch her breath.
"Keep back, Sarah! Don't come any closer!" Charlie turned back to the cliff's edge.
"WAIT! Wait... please! I'm not Sarah. It's me! Kerri! I'm Kerri."
"What?” Charlie whirled around.
TREIGLO!
Sarah's body rippled; her shaped, compacted and crunched, until 'Sarah' was gone and Kerri stood in her place.
"Is it ...you? Is nothing real anymore?"
"I am, love.” Kerri took a step toward Charlie. “Please, don't move!".
"No. NO! You're confusing me! The way out of this nightmare was so clear before you ...appeared."
"Baby, come here. I can't live without you."
Kerri took a step closer.
"Are ...are you serious?" Charlie asked, uncertain.
"Dead serious. I almost killed someone I thought had hurt you. You remember that I sure. If you jump, I'm jumping after you."
Kerri took a step closer.
"No …you wouldn't ...nooo!" Charlie's voice pleaded.
"Yet you would have me live without you?"
"But I'm not me anymore, can't you see?"
"I told you I would love you whoever you were!"
Kerri stepped closer.
"Stay away, please just STAY ...AWAY!"
Kerri moved in a blur of quickness and grabbed Charlie's shoulders.
"Let go! Let me jump!"
"Stop talking like this, dammit! Yes, your life has changed, but it's not over! This is not like you to give up!"
Kerri drew the smaller woman in with a bear hug. After a moment, Charlie stopped struggling, and laid her head against Kerri's chest. They held each other close and listened oceans roar below. At last, Kerri drew back to look into Charlie's luminous blue eyes, moist and sparkling in the sunlight.
"Baby, you're crying."
Charlie touched her hand to her face, surprised to find it wet.
"Where have you been hiding as all this ... magical shit storm …happened and I needed you sooo much! To touch you, to talk to you, to..."
"Sssh. I'm sorry, love. After I ...went postal on ...you, as it turned out ...I had to hide for a while from the Keep's security. After that, I was working with John, and Sarah -the real one- agreed I could take her place while you were here to be close to you. I don't know how I to say I'm sorry this has happened to you."
"Can this ...can this all... be reversed? Can we …go back to the way things were before?"
"We don't think so,” Kerri said. “According to Mr. U, you've been sent by the Goddess-"
"-No! NO! ...I can't ...be what She wants...I won't..."
Charlie started to struggle again, but Kerri held on tight.
"What? Are you gonna hold me here forever?"
"Only until you start thinking clearly. If that's forever..." she shrugged again.
"Thinking clearly? I have no idea how to begin to! Look at me. LOOK AT ME!"
"It is easy to do; for you are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. You look like the ancient paintings of the Lady!"
"But that's it! I am the Lady! Or rather, I'm her donella, her envoy on earth, her ...her..."
"Akasha?"
"Yes! That is what She called me!"
"You've spoken to Her? What an honor! How could you think of throwing away Her sacred gift?"
"But Kerri, don't you see? The world kills its messiahs! Do you know what they did to me before? Do you?" Charlie slammed her eyes shut:
"A large crowd of them came to see it. Some of them I'd even healed, and yet they came. It was a carnival; they brought me in a cage, like an animal, laughing at me, spitting on me ...and then ... they tied me to a pillar, stacking wood all around me... until …the... the hooded man ...set a torch to the wood, and ohhhh, the flames, the flames, the flames..."
Charlie felt coolness about her and opened her eyes, to see a gentle mist had enveloped her.
"I am a Water, my love, I will never let anyone harm you with fire again! I'll protect you! I'll work with you to adjust to your calling, but you must promise me you won't kill yourself. Or else..."
"Or else what?"
"We jump together, right now."
"No! That's not fair! You can't make me responsible for your death too!"
"You wouldn't be; it would be my choice."
"But you wouldn't jump unless I did!"
"Those are my terms."
"But... you can't make me promise you I'd ... never ever... I mean ...what if I just can't do it? I... you can't make me just keep on going and going..."
Kerri paused. "Six months. Your promise would be good for six months."
"But where would I live? How would I exist?” Charlie said. “I've no job, no identity, no... no clothes even! I have nothing! This won't work!"
"Honey, calm down! You'd live with me. I'll arrange for a new identity... we shifters are pretty good at this identity stuff... and think, -THINK!- of the good you'll do! The lives you could save!"
"That's true ... that's true." It was a staggering; she could heal! She could save! She could balance. In a flash, she stood in the apple grove again, looking on face of the Lady.
Well donella? the words echoed in Charlie's mind. I await your answer too.
“Do we have a deal?" Kerri said.
Kerri held her breath. After what seemed an eternity to the Water elf, she heard the word she prayed would come from her lover's lips.
"Deal."
IV. Dopo Tutti.
18.
"And then what happened?
"What?"
"To Charlie? What happened?"
"Benny! Are we interested in the little fairy tale?"
The man turned red and muttered, "It's all a load of crap. Can't believe I wasted the time to listen to this bullshit ...how embarrassing!"
Suz laughed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. And anyway, I don't know how it will end. Maybe we'll know more tonight, cause the friends I am waiting on are Charlie, Kerri and that dreamy John."
"You cannot expect me to believe any of this manure was true?"
Suz shrugged. "Believe or not, as you wish."
The Java Joint door swung open, and a dazzling black haired woman walked in, dressed in soft brown leather knee high boots, tight blue jeans and a thick white winter coat. She hung the coat on the metal coat tree by the door, revealing a formfitting royal purple silk turtleneck that accentuated her full figure and supple body. From her neck hung a simple silver star pendant. The woman strode to where Suz stood and knelt on one knee before her.
"My Princess! I am cold and in dire need of a hot Americano. Please, your Majesty, I beg you to prepare thy holy elixir for this unworthy servant. Also, a CrumpkinMuffin, if you have one."
"Would you STOP with that Princess gibberish, Charlie? You're embarrassing me."
Benny gazed at the beautiful woman and snorted: "You're supposed to be Charlie? You 're supposed to have been a man once? No freakin' way! I knew this was hogwash."
Charlie rose to her feet and cocked an eyebrow at Suz. "I'm not sure what stories our chatty barista has been filling your head with, sir..."
"Name's Benny. And she was laying it on thick. 'Bout how you were magically switched and changed or something, and how you were a saint and can 'heal' people and all sorts of horse dung..."
Charlie drew next to his wheel chair. "Oh, I know, she is so full of it! Why, the idea that I could heal? What a joke! And I haven't been a saint for many many years now."
As she laid a hand on Benny's thigh, white sparkles flowed into his body. His eyes jolted open.
"W-what was that?"
"What was what, Benny?"
"I felt a shock and now I feel kinda funny."
"Hmm, shall we see if it worked?"
She grabbed his hand, and before he realized what she was doing, she yanked him to his feet.
"What the HELL!? Can't you see I'm..."
He stopped speaking. He was standing. On his own.
“Hey! I can....”He took first one step, then another. "...walk!"
"Walk! I. Can. Walk!"
'Walk' was an understatement. He walked, jumped up and down and pirouetted. When he ran back to Charlie, tears streamed down his face. He clasped her hands.
"Thank you, thank you thank you! Do you know how I've dreamed of of this? Do you?"
Then Benny's mouth slammed shut and he stared, at Charlie, then Suz, then back at Charlie.
"But …that means …the story was true," he whispered.
Charlie put a finger to his lips.
"Shhh! I'd appreciate it if we could keep what just happened as our little secret, hmm?"
"Sure anything! I've gotta show Mother! She's been so depressed since this happened. She'll be over the moon." He gave Charlie a bear hug and then hugged Suz too.
"Merry Christmas! I'll keep it a secret!"
He hopped up and down several more times, and then bolted out the door, leaving his wheel chair behind. They heard one last "M-e-r-r-y C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s" as he ran down the street.
"You are amazing!" Suz said. "Kerri told me you healed the cancer patient at the spa, and I saw her jogging around afterward, but to see you do it... what's it like?
"Can't describe it; it just happens. I sense what's out of balance, and then …balance it. The feeling I got from lifting his pain was so... so..." her eyes glittered with tears.
"Here's a napkin, honey"
"I'm crying again? God this is weird!"
"Gods. We say 'gods' Charlie. We're elves. We're polytheistic."
"Oh, spiffy! So, on top of everything else, I can't celebrate Christmas now too? No Christmas tree, or Santa or presents?"
"Calm down, little girl. We have a huge Solstice feast at the Keep. With winter ale and Yule log and roast Who Beast. Winter Solstice is where Christmas traditions came from anyway, including Father Christmas. I'm sure if you hang a stocking, Kerri will fill it. She is an elf you know. By the way, where is Kerri?"
"'Cary' went to pick up John from DIA. His flight was delayed for hours but I think it's finally arrived."
"Cary? You mean we'll be boy-girl, boy-girl tonight? Wow, how normal! So are you cool with Kerri in her male form?"
"I don't know... I …" Charlie looked at the floor. "Last night was the first full moon since... since my change. I haven't seen 'him' yet."
Suz went behind her counter to begin his Americano. "This is the first time you'll see Cary? Wow! Nervous?"
"I'm terrified! What if I can't... be with a man? What if it freaks me out? After all we've been through, the last thing I want to do is hurt his feelings..."
"Look, stop fretting. You'll have no problems - he's gorgeous. Here's what you do: when he opens the door ...don't let him say one word, just reach up and give him a big fat wet French kiss and then grind..."
"Excuse me? French kiss? Grind? The only thing 'grinding' around here will be your French roast beans! God ...er, gods…I'll be lucky if I can hold his hand."
"Listen, girlfriend, take it from me. If-"
The Java Joint door blew open again, and a shivering John stumbled in, ice clinging to his black and silver goatee.
"Sunny and seventy in California when I left! Honest to God, I ought examine my own head." John stomped his feet to warm them, as he brushed the snow from his gray wool overcoat. "I don't think I'll ever get warm again. E-V-E-R!"
"Come on, doc, its not so bad. Let me get some of my world famous java in you. Love your goatee, by the way. Sarah was right, you look roguish."
"Hmm," he said eying the empty wheel chair. "Your coffee didn't cause the former occupant of this chair to crawl away in disgust, I hope."
"Real funny, John. FYI, he left here singing our praises. Our newest elf healed him, you see."
"Wish I'd seen it," John said, and turned to Charlie. "I know you may not think so, but you are truly blessed."
"I'm keeping an open mind," she said, and looked down at the floor again. "This hasn't been easy."
"Of course not. How could it be? Remember what we talked about on the phone. A day at a time is all I ask."
"I'm so glad you're here, John. So, where is ...he?"
"Parking the car. He'll be a while yet; I told him I wanted to see you first. On the drive here, he told you've been talking about his male change since you returned to Denver. He also told you were ready to meet 'him'. Are you?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." She started pacing back and forth. "Suz and I were talking about this. What if I'm ...repulsed or I just don't like him or ...what if 'he' is not attracted to me?"
The wind blew outside, shaking the Java Joint door; Charlie jumped up from her seat.
"Uh, listen, I'm going to go to the bathroom to freshen up or ...or do whatever girls do when they go there or... ARRGH! I -HATE -THIS!" Charlie bolted off to the restroom.
"There's no back way out I hope?" John asked.
"Nope. Not that way. Should I go get her?"
"No. Give her a moment. How's she been? I talk to her on the phone every day, but that never gives you the full picture. I wanted to be here in person for her, but I couldn't ignore my other patients. The holidays gave me a chance to getaway for a while and come here to help her."
"And here I figured you were looking for a reason to come see me, doc." Suz batted her red eyelashes.
"Well I did, er ...I don't mean to presume that you'd want to see me that way... I mean..."
Suz laughed "It's okay, Johnny, I missed you, too. Now, about Charlie - I won't sugar coat this - it's been rough for her. It seems to come in waves of depression. Kerri has been an ocean of patience helping her to adjust to her new gender, and I think maybe they even had sex. I mean, I would have. And she's starting to produce the most amazing artwork. I saw the other day that she was sketching out a painting of an apple blossom orchard that is going to be out of this world. So, ya know, all good. But Charlie's also dealing with the total loss of her family and friends."
"It's not like she's died though... Rachael -in Charlie's old body- continues to live as 'Charlie', right?"
"Yeah, but that's a whole other problem. Rachael took a job as a graphic artist for a big telecom corporation - Qwest, I think. Charlie said she couldn't believe her old body would allow it. Worse, Rachael struck up a romance with an old girlfriend of Charlie's. They're engaged. Charlie gets depressed just thinking about what's happening to her old body."
"So in a way, Rachael's plan worked... she has restarted a romance with an ex-lover."
"Yeah, I suppose. Never thought about it that way. Great, so that bitch got her wish! Or, bastard now, I guess. Anyway, I hoped spending the Solstice at the Keep would take her mind off these worries, and get her busy meeting her new people. Word is spreading like wildfire among the elves that the Akasha has returned, and all the Keeps are clamoring for her to visit. Mr. U flew back from Northumbria and is peeing in his pants in anticipation of being with his holy 'Akasha.'
"That's something Charlie hasn't talked to me about. There's pressure by your people on her to be a Messiah?"
"My people are electrified; we've waited hundreds of years for her return! I've done my best to deflect the expectation, and Charlie hasn't spoken a word about it, but Kerri confided she's caught Charlie sneaking out of their condo late at night and doing..."
"Doing what?"
"Messiah stuff, I guess. Going to the Children's Hospital to heal terminally ill kids. Kerri even told me that one night when they were driving by a polluted lot leftover from the old Lowrey Airforce base, Charlie made her pull over. Kerri said she was frantic, possessed. Anyway, Charlie walked to the middle of the lot and sat cross legged for a while and..." Suz stopped to brush a scarlet lock from her forehead.
"And what? And what?! Jesus, you leave your audience hanging!"
"Patience doc? Are your pants on fire now or something?” Suz said, grinning. “Anyway, Kerri said a rainbow aura formed around Charlie and then flowed into the ground. Kerri swears the place felt cleansed fresh and 'wholesome'. After that, Charlie walked back to the car and refused to talk about the whole thing."
"A toxic Superfund site? Are you telling me she healed polluted ground?! My God!" John said. "Damned if this isn't a messiah complex in reverse!"
"A what?"
"Look, when people talk of a messiah complex, it refers to an instance when a person's ego is inflated with delusions of grandeur. They delude themselves into thinking they are indispensable world saviors. Charlie is the most humble person I've ever counseled, and it turns out she IS a messiah. Man, I wish I could publish something about this case."
"You can't publish anything, Johnny dear, that's all we need, more publicity! I've started up an 'MIB' response team of Air elves. They'll follow Charlie around and convince Ordinaries they didn't see her do what they just saw her do, or something like that ...still working it."
"I'm gonna have to force some ground rules on Charlie about the 'miracle' thing, cause the publicity could put our people in danger. I'm not looking forward to that conversation; this 'princess' gig is hard - it can put a wedge between you and your friends...”
Suz brooded a moment, then continued.
"Anywho, on top of all that insanity, now Charlie has this gender stress too. What if she and Cary crash and burn as man and woman? Can she bear it?"
"She's resilient; look how far she's come. But if she and Cary can't get along then... I just don't know," he sighed. “So, how are things at the Keep? Have you and Jessica had any more 'hot' disagreements?"
"Mother and I are getting along swimmingly, thanks for asking. I've hired an assistant manager who starts after the holidays. I'll spend more time at the Keep, assume greater responsibilities…"
"A princess at last!"
"It's true," Suz sighed. “You must now refer to me as 'Her Royal Hotness'.”
The door to the Java Joint opened again, and a man walked in; tall, with a swimmer's build, short brown hair and liquid blue eyes.
"Is now good, doc? Where is she?"
"Right here," Charlie called from across the room. She strode to him, stopping inches from his face.
"Hi," he said, in a sheepish baritone timbre. "I'm Cary. Glad to meet-"
Charlie pulled the man down to kiss and, after a brief embrace, pulled away with an odd look.
"Well, that was awkward!"
"Of course it was. You tried to kiss me like you were still Charlie-the-male and I was Kerri-the-female."
"I don't understand. I've been kissing you for the last three weeks and you haven't said anything was wrong."
"It's easier to ignore when I'm only slightly taller than you. Also, I was just glad you were willing to kiss me at all after everything that happened."
"I still don't understand..."
"Charlie, I'm six foot four now. I'm a foot taller than you, and outweigh you by a hundred and thirty pounds!"
"I only know one way to kiss! What are you saying?"
Cary wrapped his arms around her and leaned her back. "I'm saying, 'trust me, trust the one who loves you.'
He brought his lips close to hers.
"I'm saying, relax. Your lips are scrunched like you are going to blow a trumpet. Let me help."
He grabbed a nipple through her silk shirt and twisted.
"Ow! That-"
Cary covered her mouth with his and kissed her, long and slow.
"Mmmm..."
When Cary let her up for air, she was panting. Cary ran his finger over her lips.
"Lucevan li occhi suoi piá¹ che la stella,"
“Hey! That's Dante!” Charlie said, "But ...not the Inferno, right?"
"Not the Inferno, no. It's from the Paradiso; it's time you left the burning fires of hells for heaven."
"You read Dante ...for me? Oh baby! What's it mean?"
"It means, 'her eyes surpassed the splendor of the stars.'"
Charlie blushed, until a thought popped into her head, “But I used to be the one saying these things to you."
"And, the beauty of our relationship is, in three weeks, you can."
Still in his arms, Charlie studied the face gazing down at her.
“It is you in there!” Charlie said, her eyes sparkling. “You're Kerri. You're Cary. I love …you.”
Cary's face shone like sun on water, and he locked his lips back on hers. As they kissed, a rainbow aura filled the room.
"Somebody sure sparked the Akasha's plug,” Suz whispered to John. “Looks like we're double dating tonight after all!"
"Thank God!” he whispered back. “That was so romantic."
"Wasn't it?" she answered. "Don't you get any ideas about trying mushy stuff on me, doc."
"Oh no...I wouldn't presume-"
"-We won't waste the time, cause we're gonna go straight to having sex like drunk monkeys, all - night - long!"
"Did I say I'd never ever warm up?" John said, as he wrapped his arms around Suz.
"I stand corrected."
Fini.
The Case of the Perfect Picture
Author:
Audience Rating:
Contests:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Other Keywords:
Permission:
The rent was due, and private detective Anne Carter needed a case fast. And right on cue, a dame walks in with an easy job: tailing her famous artist hubby to see if he was cheating on her. But no one is who they seem in the Case of the Perfect Picture, and the stakes just might be Anne's soul.
Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf on Monday 10-25-2010 at 09:10:18 pm, this retro classic was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers. ~Sephrena
On a door, bottom half wood, top glass, on which the words 'Quinn Oliver' appear in reverse, in black Arial font letters.
Camera tracks through the door - CLOSE SHOT - of a woman behind a cheap Office Depot computer desk, staring at a computer screen. Her jaw is graceful and her green eyes almost glow, but her black hair is unkept and dark circles rest below her eyes. She wears a white long-sleeved blouse, and a gray wool suit coat hangs from a nearby coat tree.
Phone buzzes; two rapid rings. The woman presses a button labeled 'intercom.'
“Yes, Tara?”
“Get your shit together; potential client on her way up.”
“What's the job,” Anne said, twirling a hair strand like it was a new toy.
“Hubby tail.”
“Oh God, no! I can't shadow someone, not like this!”
“Three words, sweetie, 'rent is due.' Now brush the rat's nests out and suck it up. And ...close your file drawer.”
“File drawer?”
The intercom amplified Tara's sigh. “Just do it.”
Anne just had time to slip on her jacket, run a hand through her hair, and close the drawer that held her Jack Daniels, when the office door clicked open.
“Go on in Mrs. Donovan.” Tara's voice drifted in.
A blonde tiptoed in, wearing a short skirt that was five years too young for her. Her eyes were puffy, with a slight mascara run. Anne rose and motioned to the chair in front of her desk.
“Have a seat; did Tara offer you coffee?”
The woman nodded and lowered to her chair. “I hoped to meet with ...Mr. Oliver?”
“Quinn is out on a case; I'm his associate, Anne Carter,” she said, extending a hand. Anne slumped into her swivel chair after the woman shook it.
“Don't worry, Mrs. Donovan; if you decide to use our firm, Mr. Oliver will be in charge. Why don't you tell me why you're here.”
“Call me Sarah, and actually,” Sarah leaned over the desk, “I'd prefer speaking to you rather than a man.”
Anne winced. “Go on.”
“I think my husband's...” Sarah looked around the room, as if to see if others were present, “...having an affair.”
“And what makes you think that Mr. Donovan-”
“-Arik.”
“-is cheating on you?” Anne sat forward in her chair, and frowned. “Wait a minute; you're married to Arik Donovan? The painter?”
“You've heard of him?” Sarah smiled slightly.
“Yeah, who hasn't, after that time he rigged the lights in all sky scrapers to form a picture.”
Anne was still impressed by the stunt; the man somehow coaxed the owners of every high-rise to allow him to use their buildings as a canvas. A light off here, on there, the skyline picture was amazing.
The blonde's eyes glistened. “He's been coming home late, smelling of a perfume I don't own.”
“Ah. Anything else?”
Sarah's head bobbed and she sniffed. “For two weeks, he says he's at his studio working late on his masterpiece, his 'perfect painting'. Last night, I went there and guess what? No Arik; the place was deserted.”
Anne rubbed her temples; a headache had pounded her all day. Due, no doubt to the river of whiskey she downed the night before.
“Maybe he was out catching a movie or-”
“-Catching a movie? Arik?” Sarah's laugh was so sharp Anne's ears hurt. “My husband's a recluse; it's well documented in the New Yorker, and all the major art blogs”
“Blogs? Lady, I still read the newspaper, and only the sports section of that. Now, based on what you've told me, my first hunch is for you to let this rest a few more days before-”
“-I MUST know! The doubt is driving me crazy. I have suffered so much with that man; I will not be cast aside for some bimbo. I'm prepared to pay whatever retainer you require.”
Anne leaned back and her eyes narrowed. “Two thousand dollars. Plus out of pocket expenses.”
Sarah's eyes widened. “Simply to follow a man? That seems excessive.”
“I advised you to be patient, but you insist you can't. We have other cases which will have to be put on hold while-”
“-Fine, whatever.” Sarah clawed a checkbook from her purse, scribbled on it. Ripped it out and threw it at Anne.
“He's a late riser; leaves our house at 11:00 for his studio.” Sarah rose to leave. “Follow him tomorrow; I'll call you for your report. I want her name, Ms. Carter. I want pictures.”
“Um ...what's your address?”
“For what I'm paying you, you figure it out,” Sarah snarled, and stomped out of the office.
The moment the main office door clicked shut, a lanky sun kissed woman of twenty four or five burst in.
“Why did you have to piss her off?” Tara said. “We needed her fees!”
“And we have them, Ms. Perine.” Anne held up the check. “Be so kind as to deposit this check tout suite at our banking establishment; I believe it will keep the wolves at bay for a few more days.”
Tara whistled. “Two thousand? I'll say!”
She headed for the door, but stopped and turned to her. “Won't you ...come over this evening? For dinner?”
Anne's head lowered and her voice turned soft. “Thanks, but no. Big day tomorrow. I'm shadowing the renowned artiste Arik Donovan. Gotta get my beauty sleep.”
Tara crossed her arms. “But you won't ...sleep I mean. Since this all happened you haven't been taking care of yourself. Every night you drink yourself stupid.”
“Wouldn't you?”
“Please ...for me ...lay off the whiskey tonight.”
“Okay, no whiskey.” Anne cocked her head. “I'll drink something healthy ...a Screw Driver. Plenty of vitamin C and the vodka will be cleansing.”
“No, Anne! At the rate you're going, you'll kill yourself.”
Anne gave Tara a sad smile, but said nothing to refute her accusation. Finally she managed to mutter,
“Shoo, I'm not dead yet.”
MED. SHOT - FRONT OF A VICTORIAN MANSION - MID MORNING
Sprinklers are running on every third lawn in the upscale neighborhood. CAMERA PANS DOWN THE STREET to a black Charger. -CLOSE SHOT- of Anne, in the driver's seat, wearing a fedora and sunglasses.
When a white BMW backed out of the mansion driveway, Anne peered through her binoculars at the driver.
“Ah! There you are, Mr. Donovan.” Anne lowered the glasses to glance at her car clock. “And punctual. I like that in a fellow.”
She turned the ignition key and her Charger rumbled alive; she followed Donovan's car at a discreet distance. Anne's eyebrow cocked when Donovan drove past the Abernathy St. freeway exit, where, her morning's research informed, his 'world famous studio' sat.
“Maybe he's after a donut and coffee,” Anne murmured, “or whatever eccentric breakfast a highbrow like Donovan would eat. Probably eggs. Egg-centric eggs.”
Anne rolled her eyes at her own joke, then perked up when the white bimmer exited at 13th street. Several streets later, Anne couldn't suppress her smirk when Donovan rolled into the circular drive of the Ambassador Hotel.
“Maybe Sarah wasn't being paranoid after all. Still, too early to tell.”
Anne whipped her car into the hotel parking lot, tossed her hat in the back seat and hopped out; Donovan had handed his keys to the valet, and was already inside.
She frowned as she scurried through the revolving door and into the plush Ambassador lobby.
“Checking in, Miss?”
Anne turned to the voice, to see a college-aged bellhop, checking her out.
Jesus kid! I'm wearing, what, jeans and a sweatshirt and you're getting a woody? Go online or something.
She wanted to say that, but she didn't; she was on a case, and had to use every tool available.
Well ...not every tool.
“No, I'm ...”
Now how is this done?
Anne dropped her eyes and when she spoke, she made her pitch high a soft.
“...I'm Mr. Donovan's secretary. He has an urgent call from an art gallery, but he won't answer his cell phone. Can you tell me what room he's in?”
“Donovan? That's the art geek who's been staying here the past couple of weeks?”
Anne put a hand to her mouth and giggled. I just giggled. Giggled, dammit! I should have charge three thousand dollars!
“Art geek? I like that. He comes here every day? Same time? And does he bring anyone with him?”
“Nope. Creepiest thing; he goes in that room alone in the morning and then leaves- hey! I thought you said you were his secretary; why don't you know this?”
“I lied, kid, okay? I'm an investigator.” Anne slipped her hand into her purse and held up a ten. “What room is he in?”
“Hotel policy says I can’t give out that info, but...” he eyed the sawbuck. “...room 304. It's our haunted room, by the way, the one Ghost Chasers did a special on a few months ago.”
Haunted room? The kid's full of fun facts.
“304? Hmm...” Anne pulled out another ten. “Bet he's a lousy tipper. Could you get me one of those little card thingys that opens the door?”
The bellhop puzzled the ethical dilemma all of two seconds before he took the bill and handed a plastic card to her.
“This opens every room in the hotel,” he whispered. “Don't be gone too long, okay? I'll get fired if someone finds out.”
“Not to worry; be back in two ticks.”
Anne found the elevator banks and was quickly on the third floor. When she reached room 304, she pulled her digital camera from her purse and turned it on.
“This could be the easiest two thousand dollars I've ever made,” she muttered, as she swiped the door card.
FADE IN: INT. HOTEL SUITE
A woman, barefooted and redheaded, and perhaps thirty, stands in the middle of the room, in front of an easel, painting. She wears tiny denim shorts, a skimpy tank top and nothing else; a real knock out. The coffee table and couch have been shoved aside to clear space.
The door opens and Anne enters the room with camera flashing.
The woman turns, a languid movement. Her eyebrow raise, bemused, and she smiles.
“What have we here, a voyeuristic perv? Should I pose or scream for security?”
“Private Detective.” Anne lowered her camera, and fished her license out of a jean pocket, to show.
“Anne Carter, private dick. Shame you don't have one; I'd love just once to...” The blonde shook her head. “Sarah sent you, obviously; I wondered how long that would take.”
“Where is he? In the closet? Under the bed?” Anne scanned the room. “Donovan? Come out! Don't embarrass yourself more than you already have.”
The woman vaguely swept the room with her brush. “Arik is not here; only me. Have a snoop around, and then get out; I have painting to do.”
Anne shrugged, and did just that, checking in the bathroom, under the bed, in the closet, and found no one. When she walked
back into the living room, the woman pretended she didn't exist. So Anne stepped in front of the easel.
“I know he came in here; where the devil is he?”
“Interesting word choice,” the woman said. “What's your name again, sugar?”
“Carter, Anne Carter.” Anne slung back her black hair with a head jerk. “The better question is, what's yours?”
“I'm Kira.” She slapped a hand on her hip and thrust it to one side. “Wanna play?”
She's coming on ...to me? Anne snarled to mask her rising panic. “What I want are answers.”
“But playing would be sooo much more fun. Live a little, Annie Poo, ya never know when you might be a few brush strokes from death.”
“His lover? His mistress? What are you to Arik Donovan?”
“I'm closer to Arik Donovan than anyone else in the world.” Kira lips turned down. “You're starting to bore me, Ms. Carter, so run along, or I'll call security.”
Kira made a couple of quick flicks with her brush, as if to brush Anne out of the way. Anne turned to face the easel, and when she did, she couldn't turn away.
Bright colors shown from the canvass, reds, yellows, greens and blues. Vibrant. Pulsing.
A dense tropical jungle comprised the background; while in the center, a naked woman rested on the ground; her knees tucked underneath.
A muscular man, wearing a short loincloth, leaned to the woman, his lips readying for a kiss. The woman's face had yet to be painted.
Anne squinted to take a closer look. Indeed, she couldn't look away; her eyes traveling from one figure to the other, then back. She was so caught in its loop of beauty that she nearly stopped breathing; she would have, if the painting had been complete.
Kira's *ahem* broke the spell.
“I call it, 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci; what do you think?”
Anne's was raspy, far away. “It's ...it's...”
“One idiot critic described my style as being 'post fauv, pre-Raphaelite'. Imagine! It's so stupid it makes your head explode. But even he could do better than 'it's ...it's...'” Kira scowled. “Tell. Me. What. You. Think!”
“Perfect,” Anne exhaled.
A grin spread across Kira's face, but not one filled with light. Not entirely dark either, but somewhere in the middle.
“Not yet. It's not finished. Imagine what it will be like when I do?”
Anne gasped; if the painting had been finished, she might have stood there forever. Or at least until she died.
Kira sashayed to a nearby hotel telephone, picked up the receiver, and pressed a button.
“Hel-lo? Yes, darling, I wish to report an annoying intruder in room 304…”
Kira’s voice broke the spell holding her, allowing Anne to lurch for the door. She wasn't breathing right, and her head spun from the painting.
“I'll ...I'll...”
She wanted to say she'd be back, but Anne's lips were filled with lead.
What’s happening?
Donovan was MIA, yet there was something about this dame -who had, grabbed her color palate and was painting again- that seemed familiar.
And that picture …was wrong.
Gasping for air, she spilled out into the hallway. A deep voice vibrated behind her, making her yip.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Carter, did you enjoy the viewing?”
Anne whipped around, to find a silver-haired gentleman, in a crisp navy Brooks Brothers' suit. His smile edged like a blade, and blackness spilled from his eyes. Anne's hands had started to creep toward the small pistol that was strapped to her ankle under her jeans, when the man raised his hands in surrender.
“I mean you no physical harm, I assure you; my name is Mr. L. Natas.”
The way the man drew out the ‘s’ at the end of his name made Anne shiver.
“Are you a manager here, um, Mr. Natas? Security?”
“Me? Provide security? You are too droll. Call me Luke; we should be on a first name basis, Anne.”
When the man spoke her name, Anne felt dirty. He reached in a coat pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.
“Smoke?”
Anne jerked her head back and forth. “Not my vice.”
“Ah! That's right. Drink is your weakness, isn't it? Drink and ...pride? Plenty of company there, Anne. Hmmm ...Anne, such a functional name; whatever made you choose it? So different than your old one.”
Anne could have been a stone statue for all she could move; she could barely manage a whisper.
“Who are you?”
“Good question.” The man lit a cigarette, took a long draw, and let the smoke out slowly. It curled around his head.
“I guess you could call me a collector.”
“An art collector?” Anne said.
“Ha, ha! Why yes, just so! Think of me as one who buys priceless pieces of art.”
Some survival instinct in her brain screamed that she needed to get away from this man now! She edged her way to the elevator.
“Tell, me, Anne, if you could have one wish in the world, but the wish came at the highest of prices, would you pay it?”
“I don't know what you mean.”
“Donovan did. He wanted something so bad, he was willing to pay the ultimate price. Now that’s devotion.”
“Would you?” The man drew closer. “I mean, if, for instance, I could reverse ...hmmm ...some recent oddness that has occurred to you, and you could live the rest of your life as you were, would you?”
Anne's flight instinct kicked in harder, and her legs tensed to run, but his gaze wouldn't allow her to move.
“Would I ...what?”
“Pay the ultimate price?”
“I don't understand what you're saying.”
You don't play naíve well; you know exactly what I am proposing.
Had he spoken? Anne couldn't remember his lips moving.
Such a small thing I'm asking for; you won't even know it's gone.
Adrenalin surged through her body, and Anne sprinted for the stair well.
It's a standing offer. Think it over...
His laughter haunted her down the two flights of stairs, through the hotel lobby and out to her car. Only when she realized her speedometer read 99 did her brain came back online. She eased her foot off the gas pedal and steered her Charger off the next freeway exit.
With shaking hands that were barely able to grip the steering wheel, Anne pulled the car into an abandoned gas station. She turned the ignition key off, pulled the emergency brake up...
...and screamed.
FADE IN:
INT. OFFICE - MED. SHOT
Morning sun streams through office window, spotlighting Anne's slumped form over her desk. Her face is flattened against the desktop and her black hair has snarled everywhere.
CLOSE SHOT - ON A WHISKY BOTTLE
A Jack Daniels bottle lays on the floor, on its side, empty. Footsteps approach from the office reception area.
“Oh, Anne, not again! You slept here? What happened to tailing Donovan?”
When Tara raised Anne's head off the desk, she saw dried tear streaks and bloodshot eyes. Tara valiantly tried to bring a little order to Anne's chaotic hair by pulling it off her face and behind her head.
“Oh honey, you've been crying? I've never seen you do that before, not even after your...”
Tara wanted to say 'change', but it was still not a subject Anne allowed her to speak about. No matter how fantastical the notion, 'Quinn Oliver' was not on a case assignment. Nor sentenced to Alcatraz. Nor visiting relatives back east. Nor any other perfectly explainable place. He was, in a real sense, gone from this earth.
Another existed in his place.
Anne had not even tried to deal with the situation, preferring instead to act as if nothing had happened, and drink herself into oblivion every night to make sure she didn't think otherwise.
This was not the first or even fifth time she had scraped Anne off the floor. But it had been a week since Anne's last episode.
She had been getting better. What set her back?
“You know the drill; down to the YWCA for a shower,” Tara said.
CLOSE SHOT - WALL CLOCK SHOWING 8:10
DISSOLVE TO : CLOSE SHOT - WALL CLOCK SHOWING 9:30
Anne sat in behind her desk; her black hair was still wet and she wore a floral print dress. A mug full of black coffee shook slightly in her hand.
“Maybe I should go home and change,” Anne said. “You know I'm not comfortable wearing-”
“-You’re lucky I had my dry cleaning with me.”
“-Please, Tara, don’t make me-”
“-Can it. The retainer we got yesterday? After back rent, utilities, and my salary, you have 92 bucks left. We have a phone message from a potential client wanting to meet with you at 10, and you damn well better pull yourself together. You can slink home after that to change.”
“Did he leave a name? Was it a ...Mr. Natas?”
“No, it was Phanuel, or something like that.”
Seeing fear in Anne's eyes made Tara's stomach tighten; nothing scared Anne, yet she was terrified.
“What happened yesterday? I thought you not coming back meant you were in deep cover, tailing our mark.”
In stutters and halts, Anne told Tara of following Donovan to the Ambassador, finding the strange Kira painting instead of Arik, and then meeting the frightening Luke Natas. She ended up simply driving for most of the day, finally ending here, where she downed her liquid dinner and passed out.
“I …don't know how to explain it; first, the picture Kira painted hypnotized me! I don't think I've ever seen anything that …that…”
That what? Beautiful? Powerful? The picture held magic, pure and simple, a notion Anne would have dismissed with a laugh several weeks ago. But that was before; now she was a believer.
“I swear I could hear Natas' voice speaking in my head. His lips didn't move! And before you ask, no, I hadn't been drinking anything other than coffee.”
“What do you think he wanted?” Tara asked.
“I think he wanted …my soul.”
The women stared at each other; the only sound was the rumbling of a nearby subway train. Both jumped at the loud banging on the office door.
Anne and Tara's eyes shot to the wall clock - 9:45.
“Our client? Early maybe?” Tara gulped.
“Maybe; I'll check it out,” Anne answered, opening a desk drawer and reaching down into it.
“Why you? You're not a m-” Tara paused, rethought. “Now, you're just like me. Shouldn't I answer it? It's what you pay me for, you know.”
“Why me? Because I'm the one with the gun,” Anne said, pulling her revolver out.
She flipped the chamber open, saw the gleaming bullet ends in all six chambers, and then clicked it back in place. She rose and walked into the main their reception area.
“Yes? Who is it?”
“Delivery for a Ms. Carter,” said a boyish voice through the door; definitely not Natas. Anne's shoulders uncoiled, and she tried to figure out where to stow the gun.
“No pockets; stupid dresses,” Anne muttered, before stashing it behind the printer on Tara's desk.
A young man, wearing a bike helmet, and spandex-y shirt and shorts, handed Anne a 5' long brown tube, a white envelope, and a newspaper.
“Sign here please.”
After Anne scribbled on the shipping form, she frowned at the long tube. “What is this?”
“Got no idea; some babe at the Ambassador had us pick it up last night.”
The boy took the clipboard from her and handed back a yellow copy. Then his eyebrows shot up.
“Oh! Almost forgot.” He pulled a folded newspaper from under his arm. “This is yours, right? I found it in the hallway.”
Anne nodded slowly. It wasn't, in fact, her newspaper; it belonged to the CPA who officed next door. She couldn't speak to tell him though, because the headline had stolen her tongue:
CLOSE SHOT - FRONT PAGE OF DAILY CHRONICLE
FAMOUS PAINTER ARIK DONOVAN FOUND DEAD IN HOTEL ROOM
INT. OFFICE - MED. SHOT
Anne sits behind her desk again, with Tara seated in front, reading the Chronicle. The long brown canister lies on the desk top. Anne holds the white envelope in her hands that came with the canister.
“No foul play suspected; cause of death was a heart attack. He passed away around 6p.m.”
“6 p.m.?” Anne said.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because the courier form says it was picked up at 5:15. Why did he send this to me minutes before he died?”
Anne shrugged after a moment, and was ripping into the envelope, when Tara shrieked.
“What’s wrong?”
“It says Donovan was found dressed in women’s clothing,” Tara said.
“What?”
“He was wearing a short shorts and a pink halter-top.”
“That doesn’t make any sense; she was wearing…”
Anne dropped the letter and opened the desk drawer. Tara reached across the desk to grab her arm.
“Don’t you dare, Anne! Don’t you reach for that bottle! Our client will be here any minute.”
“I’m getting my camera, kiddo,” Anne said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got snaps of the woman in clothes matching that description. Anyway, the bottle’s empty.”
Anne set the camera on her desk, powered it on …and gasped.
“That’s impossible!”
When Anne’s started shaking, Tara reached across the table, pried the camera from her, and looked at the image.
“This is Donovan.” Tara’s eyes darkened. “Were you hammered when you tailed him? My, God, you could have killed yourself or someone else if-”
“-No! I was stone sober! You’ve got to believe me! Maybe the letter explains some of this.”
Anne finished opening the envelope and pulled out the letter.
CLOSE SHOT — LETTER
(click image)
While Anne read, Tara popped the canister lid off of a tube end and started to unroll its contents.
“NO!”
Anne lunged across her desktop and swiped the painting.
“No! You can’t! you mustn’t …look at it. It’s evil!”
Tara blinked several times and gripped the desk edge.
“I know you are under a ton of pressure; no one could go through what you did and not be stressed out. But as the old Quinn Oliver would say, let’s review the facts.
Tara held up a finger. “One. I find you passed out on the floor this morning. Two. There’s the business of a woman who doesn’t exist, and your pictures of Donovan in drag. Three. A man, probably hotel security, confronts you and you freak out, thinking somehow he’s the devil after your soul. And four, this bizarre reaction to me wanting to look at …whatever this is. You are really starting to worry me, sweetie.”
“I’m not crazy; that picture is-”
“-Hello!” A man’s head appeared in the office door. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think I’m your ten o’clock?”
Tara jumped from her seat to usher the man in.
“May I get you a coffee Mr…”
“Phanuel. No thanks.”
When Anne finished stuffing the painting back in its tube, she looked up at the man. A youngish looking fellow stared back at her, dressed in the same sort of expensive dark suit Mr. Natas wore. Except that, unlike Natas, whose hair was dark, short and impeccably groomed, this man had a mass of curly blond hair that haloed his head.
Anne took a gamble. “You are not, by chance, an associate of Mr. Natas?”
He smiled and shook his head. “I am a competitor.”
“Ah.” Anne eyed the brown tube on the desk. “So how can I help you, Mr. Phanuel?”
“I see you possess the final painting of Arik Donovan. I am already in negotiations with his estate to purchase this piece. I am keen to acquire it before Natas can, and am prepared to pay you a handsome finder’s fee if you will relinquish it to me …Quinn.”
Anne’s eyes widened. “How do you …what is…”
Faster than she could see, Phanuel’s head reached over to hers. When they touched, peace blanketed her and she let out a long sigh; a breath she had been holding, seemingly for weeks.
“Let me tell you a story. There once was a painter who was known the world over for his amazing work…”
“Donovan,” Anne whispered to which Phanuel nodded.
“…fame and riches were his, but it wasn’t enough. He felt with each painting he finished, that the work was imperfect, lacking in something he couldn’t provide.”
“What,” Anne asked.
“Donovan felt he painted from a masculine perspective. He thought this was his flaw, for he reasoned a painting should also be painted from the feminine point of view.”
Anne frowned. “Sounds like a bunch of egg-headed nonsense. If he was right, then every painting ever made was off, whether painted by a man or a woman.
“Agreed, yet it obsessed him. He wanted to be the first artist, through all of history, to paint the perfect picture. And so he cut a deal...”
Anne's mind raced to put the pieces in place
... Kira ...finishing the woman in the picture ...Natas in the hall...
As incredible as it seemed, this must be the truth.
At least I can tell Mrs. Donovan that Arik wasn't cheating on her with another woman...
“He sold his soul to be able to paint half the picture ...as a woman!”
“Very good.” Phanuel nodded. “And almost the moment 'she' finished it, Mr. Natas collected. I say almost, because Donovan did manage to send this out right under Natas’ nose.”
“But why did Donovan send me the painting? And if it is perfect, why did he say it was evil?”
“I'm not sure why he sent you this. Perhaps he saw something in you ...some shared bond. We may never know. As to why it is evil...”
Phanuel stood and walked to the window. He was silent for several moments, allowing Anne to hear a lonesome train whistle miles away. Light streaming through the window made Phanuel's shadow appear on the opposite wall. Yet, the shadows stretched far wider than they should; to Anne they almost looked like wings.
“Donovan succeeded; the picture is perfect. Yet, his inspiration sprang not from artistic fire but from vanity, to be history's greatest painter. Had great virtue inspired him, a viewer would be taken to rapturous heights, enlightenment.”
“When I saw, it looped me back and forth, male to female, but I felt, well, nothing other than that.”
“Exactly. There was nothing behind it; it captures you and fills you with nothingness.”
Anne's mind raced back, seeing Tara opening the painting.
If she had opened it ...if she had seen...
Slowly, with trembling hands, Anne picked up the tube and handed it to Phanuel.
“Please ...take this...”
Phanuel nodded, and took the tube, placing it under an arm. He pulled a check from his coat pocket and placed it on her desk. She didn't look down and only later discovered the amount had several zeros in it.
“What happened to him ...to Donovan?”
“Ah. For all his cunning, Mr. Natas is hardly creative. I wouldn't be surprised if he locked Donovan in a room with the image of this painting before him, and left him there forever.
Forever?
That thought gave Anne a sudden and overpowering craving for a drink. This once, she fought it. She took a deep breath, and asked the questions she had been wanting to for weeks.
“You called me Quinn ...somehow …you know who I was. Can you tell me why this happened to me?”
Excitement and fear blended to rush her words.
“I made no deals with Natas, yet one morning three weeks ago, I woke up in a different body; this body. Why? Why was I cursed? ”
“Cursed?” Phanuel smiled. “Are you sure? Perhaps your life was headed for disaster and some power intervened. Or perhaps this is simply one of the universe's many quirks and has happened for no other reason than it did. Or maybe this is an opportunity for you to learn.”
Phanuel opened the door. “You have done more good here than you know, Anne, thank you.”
“But how am I to know? Whether what happened to me was an accident or something more?”
“You're an investigator,” he smiled again, “so ...investigate.”
FADE IN :
Anne stands before a modest apartment door. In her hand is a bag containing several cartons of Chinese food. She knocks. When Tara opens her door, her eyes widen in surprise, and a smile crosses her face.
“Hi ya, sweetcheeks.”
“Anne! You’re …here? For …dinner? And you’re still wearing my dress?”
“You gonna let me in, or just stand there proclaiming my loveliness.”
When a laughing Tara stepped aside, Anne swept in, and set the food on Tara's kitchen counter. She looked up, to find Tara staring at her with arms crossed.
“Not that I'm complaining, but why, after all my other dinner invites, did you decide to show up tonight?”
“I dunno, it's just …” Anne sighed. “You can be the best at what you do ...you can be perfect ...but if you are coming from the wrong place, you end up with nothing, or worse. As Quinn I always ...I never...”
Anne's voice trailed off, and when Tara saw tears glistening in Anne's eyes, she ran to hug her. This time, instead of pushing her friend away, Anne let Tara's arms draw her in.
“I've never said anything before, but it worried me so much to see how, as Quinn, you drove yourself, case after case, and when you thought you'd come up short, you were so hard on yourself. I felt like...”
Anne felt Tara tremble in her arms, and her voice dropped
“...I felt like you lost a bit of yourself ...a bit of your soul... each day, with each drink you took. No one is perfect, Anne, people weren't meant to be, and-”
“-Shhh.” Anne put a finger to Tara's lips. “I get the picture. I'm going to try harder than ever to figure out who did this to me and why, but maybe, while I’m driving this body around, just maybe, I can learn to be a little more ...human? Enough philosophizen'; food's getting cold.”
Tara laughed again; she went to her cabinets and pulled out two plates. From a drawer, she grabbed a couple of unused chopstick sets and tossed them to Anne. Then she opened another cabinet and stared at the glasses.
“So, what's your poison?” Tara said.
Tara's face frowned to a 'how could I have been so stupid' look, but Anne answered her with a lopsided grin.
“Two shots of your strongest water, on the rocks.”
THE END.
The Necessity of Winter
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
The Necessity of Winter
by Armond
I ripped the dagger from her heart...
...and held it, inches from the girl's fur wrapped chest. My hand refused to sheath the blade, pleading instead for release, to plunge it back.
How I longed to; for the first time in my life, I would raise my wishes over duty to my people.
Time stilled, as I fought my nature. The single movement in the room was bright red blood falling from gleaming blade....
…one drop …two
then…
Kiara’s lungs contracted, and her arms shot up, clawing for air.
“Praise Selene! She lives!” Cinnia said. “Aside, my Lord.”
Our lithe herb woman shoved me away, ending my inner battle. Duty wins …for now. Yet if my Fiona has perished from Kiara’s betrayal, she will wail and gnash her teeth that she was denied quick death this day.
“My kit to me, Eamann, hurry!” Cinnia shouted, “We must compote the wound to stanch the bleeding.”
“But see, cuz?” á‰amann answered the redhead, “A miracle! The wound seals itself!”
Cinnia stood still, and I gathered from her furrowed face she sought to unravel this mystery.
“Kiara must have drunk the water of life as Lady Fiona stabbed her! It alone kept her from dying, as sure as Fi’s knife stilled her heart. What a mystery!”
It was so; not even scar remained where dagger once had rested. It is mystery indeed that Selene’s wondrous waters work for this degenerate maggot. Even now, her traitorous eyes flutter and blink at gray winter light, filtering through the farmhouse window.
“Tis a blessing from Selene,” the bushy-headed farmer said from behind us. “Since I found her on yon river bank, she’s been at death’s doorstep, neither living nor dead.”
Kiara's irises were pools of black. They matched her soul. Cinnia clinched her friend in a tight hug, trying to raise the girl’s body temperature. Kiara's flailing ceased. Her hateful mouth opened, and rasped:
“Late for … drop off point …Kounoungo camp …No! Land mine!”
Her arms thrashed anew, and Cinnia tightened her embrace.
“She spews gibberish. Now the deceiver is revived, I will ready the company to ride. She is your friend,” I spat my last word, and slipped Fiona's knife into my belt. “So you shall clothe and tend her, Cinnia.”
Our ruddy-faced host grabbed my arm. “Forgive my forwardness, Lord Arthmael! Now our Cupbearer is awake, can she lift this hell-cursed winter? She must or I lose all! My barley crop is gone and sheep perish by the day. Neighbors are same or worse.”
What comfort words had I? Our foe outmatches us in every way. Men, supplies, and magic too, it seems. My Fiona and the other Cupbearers had been our last hope. After their capture, even the weather dances on Amangons’ command, sending us winter's blizzard in place of summer's rain.
I gripped his hand. “Fight on, friend. We speed her to the High Priestess to cipher what can be done.”
Why Epona believed this treacherous bitch was the key for our survival was beyond my reckoning. Yet, I would do my duty, one last time.
When I turned to young Eamann, I did not bother to disguise my dark mood as I had for the farmer.
“Pay heed, comrade, that my Fiona marked her with her dagger is proof enough for me. Kiara’s betrayal yokes all in cold misery. Even the land itself. When she ceases her babbling, bring her to me …for questioning.”
Duty. I am cursed with it. I will forestall killing this bitch until after I deliver her to Epona. Yet should she fail to answer my questions, her pain will give me some small reward.
Time is our enemy. Distance is our enemy.
White is our enemy.
One luckless color, from horizon to horizon.
Amangons' magics drown our world in a sea of snow. It is summer, for Selene's sake! The joyous time when maid’s dresses grow short! Yet his base snowstorm besieges our land, freezing bud on tree, and grows stronger day by day.
Each vanishing moment draws Amangons’ forces closer to Ysrial. The farmer's house lies hours behind us, and many more must pass before we halt for cold sleep.
I agreed with m'Lord Arthmael; time wasted on the High Priestess' errand should have been spent shoring Ysrial's defenses for the final battle. Epona's vision must be false; how could Kiara Esmeé, of all the Maids, aid in defeating the twisted demigod?
I shook my head to my cousin riding beside me.
“You cannot believe her!”
“I …do not know what to think,” Cinnia said, pulling her furred robe tighter, and tucking wine colored hair into her hood. “It is perplexing.”
“Try stupefying; her story is pathetic! She says she is not Kiara, but ‘Bryonn’ from a distant world and this is all her dream?”
I pointed a gloved finger at Cinnia. “Our survival is at stake! She quickens your blood, aye; yet allow not desire to cloud good judgment.”
It used to amuse me; Cinnia’s heart burned for the golden-haired lass, yet Kiara had eyes for me alone, and returned Cinnia's arousal with the warmth of a sister.
I delighted in flirting with Kiara in view of my cousin, though never intended I more. As well connected as Kiara was through her parents the Duke and Duchess, other maids -such as sweet Catriona- hailed from families with far vaster holdings.
That was before Kiara betrayed her people to the twisted demigod; right or wrong, she now was a key player, and I would turn my attentions to her.
Cinnia pivoted in her saddle, to glance at her friend, several mounts behind in our long horse train. Like Cinnia, Kiara was wrapped in white fur, gloved hands held her reins, and golden hair peeped from her furry cap.
Cinnia returned her gaze to me. “Her story sounds absurd, yes, but …how strange she acts since her reawakening.”
I shrugged. “Getting stabbed in the heart by our Lady Fiona and lying in death's coma for a week would be hard to waltz away from.”
“But consider,” Cinnia said, “last month when we traveled with her to the temple for her consecration, tears rolled down her cheeks at the mention of riding, and she traveled by cart. Yet now she straddles her mount as well as any cavalryman. Regard also how she often adjusts her breasts, as if they were something …hmm …foreign?”
“Bah! She double-crossed her Cup Maid sisters; this absurd ‘otherworld’ fable is an act! If ever I betrayed our people as she …ah, fair cuz, the west wind could not carry me fast enough to escape Lord Arthmael’s wrath. It is a wonder he has not whipped the truth from her.”
Cinnia glared me. “We know not she betrayed the Maids! All we know-”
“-is prissy Kiara alone escaped, from the wicked demigod and his demons. Right. What were the chances the Least of Bearers would be the one to escape? All in our company speak of it, how she must have panicked and shown him some secret weakness of the Maids. That she was found with Fi’s dagger in her heart shows how our Lady judged her.”
“Yet she also had the water of life in her veins to keep her alive. Tell me what you think of that!”
I had no answer. No one did; it made no sense. But …if I could convince Kiara to tell me what really happened …my standing with Lord Arthmael would rise.
“I think …I would speak with her. Perhaps I can charm her to reveal all.”
After I ran a hand through my hair to straighten it, I saw a smile play on Cinnia’s lips.
“What?”
“Nothing …except, mere weeks ago, you wanted little to do with her when she followed you about like a lovesick puppy; now you primp and preen for her.”
I found no humor in this; I did this act for my people! I would not stoop to answer. Instead, I pulled my steed to a halt, shaking my reins when Kiara’s mount approached. I nudged Bright Star's flanks so he trotted in step with her dapple-gray mare.
“Sir Byronn! A thousand pardons for intruding on your ‘dream’, but I would speak with you.”
“Not Byronn, Brian, BRI-an,” she said, and sighed. “Never mind. I’m sure I’ll wake any minute, and the sooner the better. This dream is freaking cold and …argghh!” She pushed strands of gold hair off her face. “…goddammit, this long hair is driving me crazy! Can you chop it off with your sword or something?”
I shrugged. “And when you awaken from your dream, you will be …where?”
“A hospital bed I think; I must be drugged up, with morphine or some such shit. Last I remember we were coming from Kounoungo where we’d documented some mass graves and we stumbled across an unmarked land mine area …and then I…”
Her mouth stopped mid-sentence, and her bright eyes widened, as if she relived some terror.
“What is it?”
Her voice was soft in answering, “N-nothing. Except, I must have been mangled by the blast and …and …and what the fuck am I doing, explaining this to a figment of my imagination?”
This was getting us nowhere. “Your otherworld stratagem wears thin, Kiara. We will go easier on you if you confess your crimes.”
“Okay! Fine! Ya caught me!” She held her crossed wrists in front of her. “I stole the jewels, or the eye of Horus, or whatever shit it is I’m supposed to have done.”
“You have no idea how serious your situation is. Should Lord Arthmael overhear you jesting this way…”
“He’s the sour-faced dip who slapped me around?”
“He struck you?”
“Yeah, after you dragged me to him. He asked if his Fiona lived, and when I said ‘Fiona who?’ he backhanded me. I wonder what that means?”
Was Kiara as thick-headed as she was deceitful? Lord Arthmael's soul screams in torment from the loss of his Lady; I know not how he resisted the temptation to tie her to a post and lash her.
“You stupid fool! Despair riddles the man that his beloved might be dead …or worse, and you toying with his agony pushed him over the edge.”
“What? No, that’s not what I meant; though that’s interesting exposition,” she said, and leaned out in her saddle to glimpse Arthmael in front of their train.
“What I’m trying to figure out is why my unconscious mind projected me into the body of a young woman and then caused a male authority figure in my dream to abuse me. Do I do the same in real life? Oh, not literally, but figuratively? I’m visiting a shrink ASAP when I wake up.”
“I beg of you,” my teeth were clinched so tight my words almost whistled. “Cease. This. Charade.”
“Don't you think I'd end this fucked up nightmare if I could? I’ve tried everything to wake up!”
An awkward quiet fell on us, and for some moments the sound of our horses’ hoofs padding on crunchy snow filled the silence. Perhaps I needed a different approach; if not stick, then carrot. I leaned close, took her gloved hand, and spoke in a melodious tone.
“Weeks ago, you proclaimed your love for me.” I brought her hand to my lips for a kiss. “If any of those feelings remain, then please, for me, help us combat Amangons’ malevolence.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
She was near speechless; a positive sign, I hoped. I called my most ‘beguiling’ smile to my face, and sought to press my advantage.
“You are so beautiful; I would despair to see you …scarred …by the harsh questioning Arthmael will employ. Ponder this; tell me all, and I will try to protect you. We shall speak later, my love.”
I swooped in for a quick kiss on her lips, before I nudged Bright Star's flanks again. He sprang forth; and I slowed him when we reached Cinnia’s mare.
“Was your gambit successful?”
She had seen me kissing Kiara, and was jealous, no doubt.
“Success I think; she continues to be dazzled by my charm. She will talk tonight for sure. I must report my progress to Lord Arthmael at once.”
I wanted to ignore Cinnia's petty comment as I urged my Bright Star forward, yet I failed to block it from my ears:
“Fair cousin, you have yet to learn the difference between dazzled and dumbfounded.”
“Positively fascinating.”
The gray half-light of a snowy dusk still showed through our tent flap. I had burrowed under my thick bed furs; feeling warmth for the first time this day. Yet if Kiara wished to talk, I would listen; Arthmael ordered me to act as guard and spy.
“What was ‘fascinating,’ hmm,” I asked through a yawn.
“No directional control! How do you women piss your names in the snow,” she asked, as she -thankfully- closed the tent flap.
“‘You women’? Oh, right! As Sir Bree-on you were a man; that is your story, is it not?”
She sighed. “Call me Kiara, okay? Everyone mangles ‘Brian’ so badly, I’ve given up the fight.”
Hmm, that gave me a thought. “As a man, I expect you …romanced many a fair maiden?”
“Don’t mean to brag, but I’ve loved my share of …you know …maids.”
My heart thumped quicker. “Does this mean what you told me last month no longer holds true?”
“Throw me a bone, here …Cinnia is it? I have no idea what I’m supposed to have said.”
“I told you of my desire for you,” I gazed into Kiara’s eyes, so bright in the light of dusk. “And you said —quite clearly- …you …prefer …men.”
Cursed was I to fall in love with a mono-sexual elf. Her narrow-minded preference for males alone was almost …human.
My most beloved and painful memory was of a spring day, when she and I stood beneath a cherry tree grove on her parents' lands. There, as the pink blossoms floated down on us, I brought my lips to hers, and felt her fire as she moaned. Yet then, she pushed me away, and said her heart belonged to á‰amann.
The sting in my heart remains, as does the sweetness of the moment too, her moan, her soft lips…
“Does your heart still belong to Eamann alone?”
“I said that?” Kiara asked, her voice inflecting up to a squeak. “For whatever it’s worth, earlier, when Eamann hit on me, I almost barfed.”
What? Eamann hit you?”
“No, Arthmael hit me, Eamann hit ON me. Made a pass. Kissed my hand.”
Arthmael beat her? I feared this, and cringed for the pain she must have endured.
Yet …how blasé she acted, so detached, when our world was ending. When Amangons threatened to raze Ysrial's marbled towers!
I bit back an angry curse, and breathed in cold night air for calm. She at least was talking to me. Perhaps if I humored her, I might gain her confidence.
“And if I …hit on you,” I licked my lips, “would that also make you want to …what odd word did you use? Barf? Or would you have a different reaction?”
“You mean if a hot girl like you came on to me?” Kiara's voice growled husky in her answer. “I bet in whatever hospital bed my body now lies, something’s stiff.”
In spite of our desperate plight, or the howl of the devil wind, warm tingles spread through my body. For many a season I had longed to hear lust for me in her voice.
“You know, tonight will be bitter cold; maybe we would do better if we slept …under the same furs?”
“Girl-on-girl action? Absolutely!” Kiara was beside me in a flash. “This dream’s been such a freaking nightmare, ‘bout time something excellent happened.”
How the fates conspire against me!
After planting a few innocent kisses, Kiara fell asleep in my arms before we attempted more. Several hours later, she jolted awake when an icy wind blast smacked our tent.
“C-innia?”
“Mmm, what love?” I untangled from her, and sleep prickles raked my arm from where she had lain on it.
“I fell asleep.”
We would ride in but a few hours to an uncertain future. As much as my arms and legs ached to twine around her, we needed rest.
“I imagine you did, after all that has happened to you. Try to repeat the experience.”
“No, you don’t understand! You’re not supposed to fall asleep in dreams, right, unless you're narcoleptic …I read that somewhere …or caught it on CNN. What if I can’t wake up? What if I’m in a coma or …or …”
Her voice was agitated; her lackadaisical tone had vanished.
“Or what?”
“What if this is...” Her voice grew soft. “…real.”
I snaked a hand through her blouse and tweaked a nipple, eliciting an “ow!”
“I am NOT a figment of your imagination.”
“Then... then ...who am I supposed to be?” .
She sounded so lost! Her fabulous tale cannot be true, but until this moment I think she believed it. My arms wrapped around her and I cooed in her ear.
“Be calm, love, and I will tell you. Your name is Kiara Esmeé, and you were born in the Duchy of Broges. Your parents are Duke Conlan and Duchess Amelinda. You love chocolate pastries, and adore wearing purple ribbons in your hair.”
“Purple …ribbons? Peachy, but I …I don’t even know what I look like!”
That was easy to remedy, for her features are burned in my soul.
“Your golden hair falls as ringlets down your back, your cheeks are rosy, your eyes are sky blue and dewy, and your soft red lips are so…inviting.”
“Fantastic, I sound uber hot. What about these badass pointy ears?”
How coarse, how different her speech was! In the blackness of night, she didn’t sound at all like the woman I loved.
“I do not understand. If not pointed then what would they be? Rounded as humans? Please.”
“So …I’m female AND nonhuman? You’re shitting me. What else? How old am I? Seems like twelve.”
“You turned seventeen several weeks ago. You had just been called to your training as a Cup Bearer when Má³rrághan’s company was ambushed and she was killed in the first volley of arrows. When you were consecrated, you became the youngest Bearer ever.”
Her frustrated mutter knifed through the dark.
“I keep hearing those words ‘bearer’ and ‘cup maid’; am I supposed to be one of those things? Is it some kind of big deal?”
"The highest of honors! All elfin women long to be called as a Cup Bearer!”
I would be lying if I said I was not envious. To possess Selene’s healing power ...only once have I know such joy, when last summer, at midsummer's eve, I transformed the herb panax into panacea and cured a blind woman of her affliction. To have that power the other days of the year ...ah, such an honor. I envy her indeed.
Many of our nobles protested she was too young and thought Catriona was the better choice. After Kiara was consecrated, it stung her when the whispers began, dubbing her the ‘Least of Bearers.’ I defended her to all who spoke so, for Epona consulted her auguries, and Kiara’s name was written in them.
“Got it, it’s like winning Power Ball. Which begs the next question; if I’m so fantastic, why does everyone treat me like I’m radioactive?”
More strange words from her! Perhaps her death coma damaged her brain. Could that explain her memory loss and strange speech?
“Radio-active? Please explain, Kiara.”
“Sorry. Um, it’s like I’ve done something criminal, and now I’ve got the plague.”
Ah! I understood. Perhaps if I tell her of recent events, it will trigger a memory of her time with Amangons and the fate of the Bearers.
“I will tell you. Some months past, the loathsome demigod Amangons arrived from the East with a mighty host to besiege our land. Our forces suffered great losses during the battles, but at last stalled his advance. Then, Amangons requested a parley and made an offer; he said if the Bearers could heal his accursed afflictions, he would leave our land in peace. He swore safe passage for the Nine.”
She was silent; a good sign, I prayed to Selene.
“As our army had been decimated, the High Counsel deemed the offer our best chance to end the war without further bloodshed. So, the Nine Cup Bearers —you included- rode to Amangons’ encampment some seven days ago.”
“Well, hell, I don’t know the subtext around this Amangons guy, but that sounds like an obvious trap, ya know?”
Unthinkable! “He swore an oath!”
“Um …o-kay,” she answered. “Soooo what happened?”
“The worst of news! Word came that eight of the Nine renounced their cups and worshiped Amangons as god; they had become his slaves and playthings. Following that, Amangons unleashed this cursed winter storm. Finally, as Priestess Epona foretold, two days ago you were found, with Fiona’s knife in your heart. Some say you betrayed your sister Bearers, and Fi’s dagger was your payment. This is why people treat you like you are …radio —active.”
“You sent nine women, unguarded, to your enemy? Holy fuck, do you realize how monumentally stupid that was?”
Her thoughts are so alien! Had Amangons twisted her mind? Was she his spy as á‰amann said? Had my desire for her blinded me?
My skin crawled at the thought; I pushed this stranger away.
“You …are not the Kiara I knew!”
“No …wait! If I said something stupid, I’m sorry.” Her voice turned soft, pleading. “Don’t kick me out of your bed; you’re the only one who’s been nice and-”
“-Creature of darkness, I know you not!”
From the black came her whispered answer:
“Me neither. Yesterday, I was Brian Cooper. Yesterday, I was a field photographer for the United Nations Refugee Agency.
Today? I have no fucking clue.”
They paced, my anxious Lords, in the courtyard to the Temple of Selene. Restless were they, as they awaited my divining.
I did not rush to dispel their unease, but waited, behind a wood-leafed panel, unseen. A High Priestess does have her tricks.
I must know the mind of my Lord Arthmael and General áed before I delivered my news. Amangons tested our mettle and our leaders must possess steady minds.
“We came as fast as the cursed conditions allowed,” Arthmael said, as he gazed from a courtyard window, onto our ice locked city. Mere weeks ago, cherry and dogwood trees sprinkled blossoms on fair Ysrial’s streets as spring gave way to summer.
“How far away is his army, General?”
“They arrive within the hour. Or sooner; His advance scouts roam outside our gates as we speak.”
Aed hobbled to the window to join Arthmael, as Eamann and Cinnia flanked his sides, eager to help, but afraid of insulting his dignity. Poor dear áed! Amangons’ pernicious cold stiffened his old war wound.
“Why he bothers to lay siege is beyond me,” Arthmael said. “If he waits but a few weeks, we will all be dead.”
My Lord is wrong; Amangons comes not to receive our surrender; he thinks it already his. No, the twisted one comes to work his revenge on Selene’s children.
“Does his arrival have something to do with the finding of the lass,” Aed asked.
“We will know soon enough when Epona finishes her questioning,” Arthmael said. “Yet if Kiara has worked a blasphemous compromise with the twisted one, I will ensure she is first to die.”
“She has betrayed us? Her own people,” áed asked. “I still find this unthinkable…”
I had heard enough. I used my power to project my voice to echo throughout the chamber.
“INDEED, UNTHINKABLE AND UNTRUE.”
I strode forth from my hidden panel. If my people are to keep faith that Selene has not abandoned them, then they must see me strong in my belief.
They saw as I willed; Selene’s High Priestess, with back unbowed, robed in the holy purple. At seventy, I have reached the balance point of our people where I looked neither young nor old; my face held a memory of my youth, yet showed too, my wisdom wrinkles.
I motioned to the priestess who waited by the courtyard entrance for my signal. She led Kiara into the room, whom I had cloaked in priestess robe. The girl’s steps were tentative and her eyes wide; so lost, so lost. Since she was brought to me, a steady fog of bewilderment had descended on the poor thing. How will she defeat the demigod?
Faith, Epona, faith! Dark times indeed, when I must give this admonishment to myself.
The inevitable questions burst from the group:
“Does Fiona live?” Arthmael said.
“Has she revealed all as I told her too?” Eamann said.
“Is …Kiara well?” Cinnia said.
I held up my hand for silence, and regarded the girl again.
“Her tale is wondrous strange, but bears no falseness; I have subjected her to Beli’s Rod. She has led another existence, or at least she believes so …as Brian Cooper? Did I pronounce it correctly?”
At her jerked nod, I continued.
“She lived three and thirty years as a man, the height of you, Lord,” I motioned to Arthmael, “in a place I cannot comprehend. Yet she is Kiara, for I recorded her aura when she was brought here for consecration as Bearer, and I know her.”
“What good does this serve,” Arthmael asked, anger boiling in his voice. “You say she is not the betrayer? Then what of the manner she was found, with Fi’s dagger in her heart?”
“Fiona has given us a riddle for sure,” I bore my eyes into him. Arthmael is a just lord and good man, but must be confronted hard to be made to see other points of view.
“The dagger was driven in the instant she drank the water of life, suspending her between life and death, and giving her soul the space to fly to this other world. Why?”
I let the question hang in the cold air.
“We hoped you could answer this question, and so provide us with a means to defeat Amangons,” Aed said. “Our remaining archers can still inflict some small damage, but his victory is a foregone conclusion.”
Goddess, the man was literal to a fault! “I was speaking rhetorically, General, I mean to discover the answer now. Muireann! Aonghus!”
Two robed figures, male and female, filed in from an antechamber door. Between them on a tray, they carried an antique silver cup. A most amazing cup indeed!
“What wonder is this,” Arthmael asked gazing at the intricate spiraling patterns etched on the Chalice. “Vile Amangons captured the nine Bearer cups. I know not this vessel.”
“Patience, Lord. The nine cups were fashioned after this Cup, given to our people in the dawn time, by Selene's Healer, Kemeia. The Cup was made by the Goddess Herself, so the legends say. ”
“This,” Cinnia asked, staring wide-eyed at the gleaming Chalice, “was made by Selene’s hand?”
I nodded. “ And from it the Nine received their healing power. Certain it is, since Amangons enslaved eight Bearers, and believes the ninth dead, he feels free to move. I reckon he has no knowledge of Her Cup.”
“How will this benefit us,” áed asked, “when the cups of the Maids proved powerless to stop him?”
“Powerless? We shall see, General. Our last Cup Maid remains a consecrated Bearer; she alone among us may grasp Selene’s Chalice and not be consumed by its fires. And sure it is, her strange journey was for a Goddess-sent purpose.”
I clapped her hands.
“Kiara Esmeé!”
The mention of her old name failed to rouse her from her stupor.
“Pick up the cup, Kiara.”
“I’m …to …what?”
I was not penetrating her fog. Selene help me!
Then, an inspiration came.
“Take the cup, Kiara Brian Cooper Esmeé!”
She flinched, grasped the dazzling vessel before her …and reeled. Cinnia leaped to catch her; cradling her in her arms. Kiara gazed at the redhead’s face, her eyes rolling back in her head.
A clatter of boots on stone drew me away from this scene; our soldiers rushed into the chamber.
“General! Amangons has arrived at our gates demanding entrance. He sends word that if we refuse, he will kill all in the city, be they man or dog.”
“Better to fight, I say, but he would kill our women, our children,” answered Aed. “What are we to do?”
Kiara stood again, thank Selene, though Cinnia held her steady. With the Cup in hand, her body was outlined in a blue glow.
“…I …know…”
I ran to her. “You remember your training? The ritual? The miracle of the water?”
“I …remember …all.”
Fool was I to doubt my Goddess, though I knew not her plan. When I turned to Arthmael and Aed, I could not keep the fierce grin from my face.
“Then, by all means, my Lord and General, invite in King Amangons, so he may receive the healing he craves.”
Putrid rotting corrupt …master.
Abominations he has worked on us, turning our blood lusty hot. He devours our torment, for even the frigid air that kills my people gives us no calm, forcing us to shed our clothes in anguish.
He delights in dragging us, collared and naked, before our loved ones. He speaks but a word, and we leap to perform any depravity he wishes. To me, he says he has special acts he will make me do when we are before my love Arthmael.
Cursed am I, a thousand times so, for I led my sister Cupbearers to Amangons’ open arms. We cannot even end our lives, á‰taán tried to jump from a tree with rope around her neck. She could not die; the twisted demigod’s commands forbade it.
Little Kiara was blessed to die by my hand. He corrupts even my soul, for I am selfish now; every moment of this hellish week I wished I had not stabbed my blade into her heart. I wished I had buried it in my own.
“Wave to your people, they are overjoyed at your return,” Amangons said.
I rode in Amangons’ lead chariot at the tip of his army, and my sisters, chained and collared, dragged close behind us. Few people lined Ysrial’s icy streets to watch the parade, and those who did hung their heads in shame and what they thought was fear. They would know true fear soon enough.
“I said wave and smile, Lady Fiona. Pray I do not order you to fondle your body as well.”
A smile appeared on my face, and my hand shot up in a mechanical wave.
We arrived at the columned entrance to the Temple of Selene.
“How fitting, that the surrender of the elves comes in a place dedicated to She who cast me down. Where is your false goddess now? I shall take you here, before your husband and Her statue. I am sure you appreciate the symbolism.”
When the temple doors opened, we marched in, to find a waiting delegation. No pomp and ceremony here, Ysrial's forces, already thinned from battle, were decimated by Amangons’ winter siege. How pitiful we were; less than three score soldiers awaited, including General áed, High Priestess Epona, and my love.
I turned so I would not look on his face, his shame at what I’d become. Thankfully, Amangons’ attention turned from me; he had a larger audience to torment. One of his Underlords spoke. I wasn’t sure who; did it matter? They all had their turns with us.
“Tremble and despair, for he who rules all has come!”
His army dropped to knees and so did I, as ordered.
A golden throne was wheeled in behind Amangons; he sat, motioned, and we rose.
“Arthmael, I am prepared to accept your unconditional surrender.” His voice was clear, almost sweet. “Bow to me. As you see, my Lady Fiona has already done so. ”
He motioned to me, and hated words passed my lips. “Truth, Arthmael; he alone is my lord, and husband.”
I could not look on him; my words were daggers in his heart!
“Why say you these words, my love? WHY? It has ever been that the Cupbearers were immune to all magic. How has he done this to you?”
The perverted demigod laughed. “Know you not the one weakness of the Bearers? A Cup Maid has the protection of Selene so long as she serves all who seek healing. He whom a Bearer refuses shall have mastery over the Bearer, until he is healed.”
Arthmael shot an anguished look to Epona, but she nodded in confirmation. “That is so. But no Bearer has refused to give succor, ever.”
“Tell them my pet. Tell them how you failed.”
I cast my eyes to the stone floor. “We could not do it. We tried but…”
“Eight of you and not one would heal poor Amangons. And the ninth, they killed the miserable creature rather than allow her to try.”
“Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated.” A voice called. I know that voice!
“Who spoke so?” Amangons’ eyes narrowed as he scanned my elfin people.
A young woman robed as a Selene priestess, stepped from behind Epona. Kiara!
“The ninth Maid? But I saw you dead,” Amangons said, and his voice showed the first uncertainty I had heard from him.
“I’m feeling better now,” Kiara said.
“Impossible!” His voice shrilled. “You were pierced through your heart and thrown to the river.”
Kiara shrugged and brought a gleaming cup from behind her back.
“I possess the nine cups; what chalice is this,” Amangons said.
It is the vessel from which we drink when we are consecrated! My eyes were drawn to it as iron is to magnet.
“This is Kemeia's Gift, the Cup of cups; Selene's Chalice,” Epona answered. “From this you will receive your healing.”
Amangons laughed, and I heard his confidence return. He motioned his head to me.
“Tell her, slave; tell this Least of Bearers the folly of the venture. Spare her the embarrassment of the attempt.”
I slunk to where Kiara stood, and whispered:
“Child! Try not this healing. You were there to see us fail; as bright as his visage is, his soul is inversely foul. It was arrogance that led us to this fate, my reckless belief that nothing could harm a Bearer. Look at me! I am proud no more.”
“But Fi, you’re the one who …um …got Selene’s answer to our prayers…right? I mean, that’s why you …you stabbed me, you know, as you gave me the water from your cup…”
That memory blazed into my mind. How desperate we were; four cup sisters had gone before Amangons and failed! Luck alone prevented all from falling that night; the lateness of the hour stayed the completion of the farce until the following morning.
How frightened Kiara was when I spoke of my vision from Selene, how she —the youngest of us- would be our salvation, after she learned Selene’s lesson. How terrified she was when she discovered how the lesson would begin. Trembling, tears flowing, she nonetheless stepped forward to take the blow.
“…so why are you doubting now?”
Something was different about her. Her words were oddly arranged, and she faltered, as if she recalled some distant memory.
“That was before it was my turn to heal him and look into his soul. Kiara, no words can describe the limitless depth of his corruption. I could not …could not …heal him. We have nothing in our world to match his depravity, nothing to prepare us. You, sweet virginal Kiara, you least of all are prepared. Attempt it not, else he enslave you too.”
I grasped her hand and squeezed as hard as I could. “No hell is worse than being bound forever to him.”
“Fiona, pet you flatter me. I shall reward you in our bedchamber tonight. Again.”
Fool that I am! Though I spoke in whispers, I should have known Amangons would hear all. My love screamed at his words, and his men wrestled him hard to the ground. Ah Arthmael! Ah Love! How have we come to this? Ah Selene! Why have you abandoned us?
“As delicious as this drama is,” Amangons said, “I would know if this ‘Least of Bearers’ will try to heal poor Amangons of his sad afflictions.”
I knew before she opened her lips she would follow the same path as we did to doom. No! No! Foolish girl!
“Run Kiara! Flee! Do not suffer our fate! Do not-”
“-Silence! To the ground, slave, and worship me.”
I fell to the floor, crawled to him and kissed his wretched feet.
From this low station I heard her odd reply:
“Call me a stupid sonofabitch, but I can’t pass up a challenge.”
I'm me and I'm not me.
No, that’s not right…
I’m me and I'm me.
The moment I touched Her Cup, both "mes" slammed together, my life as Kiara Esmeé and as Brian Cooper.
I'm a photojournalist who documents refugee camps for the U.N. -or …was, because I think I …died …and if you asked me what my favorite meal was, I'd say ‘a steaming slice of pepperoni pizza and a mug of Fat Tire Ale’.
I'm also the daughter of Conlan and Amelinda Esmeé, I grew up in the wooded hills of Broges, and I crave chocolate pasties. And love wearing purple ribbons in my hair.
Each reality is true, and my head is splitting trying to reconcile them.
“This one appears ready to faint before me, and she has not yet looked into my mind.” His laugh echoed the temple walls. “You are useless; I see why your sisters sought to dispose of you.”
I was thankful for the danger of the moment; it distracted me from the schizophrenic tearing in my brain. My Cup Bearer instinct kicked in big time —my Kiara mind told me this- and I walked to the golden king, lifting up the shining Cup.
“Let me heal your troubled soul.”
Two of Amangons’ colossal golden guards stepped in front to bar my way, but Amangons waved them off.
“No! Hinder her not! For I will have the complete set of the Bearers as slaves. Selene’s ‘miracle’ shall come no more to my world.”
When I was reawakened in the farmhouse —had I died then too?- and believed this was a dream, I'd figured from all the ‘twisted demigod’ talk, I'd find, you know, some creature out of Night of the Living Dead.
Instead, a tall regal man clad in armor of shimmering gold sat before me on a burnished throne. Equally 'fair' armored warriors surrounded him -hell, they all looked like they'd spent time in the weight room- and if I hadn't had my Kiara memories, I might have wondered if I was on the right side in this drama.
Until he spoke; then the sound of his voice turned my stomach.
“After you fail, I shall mount you and take your maidenhood here, before all. Think of it as your special favor from me.”
“I’m sure it will be a letdown,” I said, as I stepped between his massive guards to stand an arm’s length from him. “Kind of a rule of thumb I’ve learned, is guys flashing the kind of bling you do, are compensating for tiny dicks.”
“What?”
I didn’t have another witty remark to throw at him, because the magic of the Cup ritual was working, and my lips spoke scripted words.
“O seeker, let me gaze into your eyes, so I may feel your ailment and bring you succor.”
“By all means …Look. into. my. eyes.”
When I stared into his hazel gold irises, my consciousness was pulled through a sparkling veil, into blackness.
Urine. Excrement. Vomit. A kaleidoscope of scents assaulted me, knotting my intestines.
I felt movement, and before me, and a glow appeared, of green light.
Someone or some thing was here!
Its skin was covered in lesions, puss filled, crusted, and slick.
Oh God! This is Amangons’ soul!
It reached for me with emaciated arms, twisted hands and yellowed long fingernails.
“Help me”
Now I understood my sisters’ failure; this horror, is the opposite of life. His divine eternal nature was anti-life; corruption incarnate.
In the bright light of this young world, they would have encountered nothing like it. How could they heal that?
I yanked away from his soul, from his mind. I was back in the great hall, before the king, bright and golden as before. His outward visage, what a parody! I wanted to run to the nearest body of water and scrub my skin for an hour.
“What? Is there nothing in your cup? Will not you heal me, Bearer? If not, then you are mine.”
That’s the deal, my Kiara mind reminded me, the Bearer looked into the soul of the seeker, and filled the Cup with that which would heal. My eight sisters’ cups remained empty and so they became enslaved. Could I do better?
For more than thirty years, as Brian I’d lived in a world filled with suffering. Even as I …even as I had died …I’d been photographing the atrocities of Dafur. I’d seen the mass graves, the starving homeless, the burning villages, gang-raped girls.
I’d seen that which could not be healed.
Except by death.
Death.
Our enemy, we say, something to fear. Yet I learned that sometimes, when living is suffering without joy or …hope, when to exist is to know unending misery, then …death is our friend.
I knew what he needed.
“You’re a sick fuck for sure, Amangons, but you are not unique. Drink, O king, my cup is full.”
As I thrust it at him, the Cup glowed silver and soft blue light surrounded me.
But inside the Cup, the liquid was black.
“Swallow every drop, you bag of shit.”
“Impossible,” He whispered, trying to pull away. He couldn’t; the magic of the ritual compelled him to drink, and, like a hunter, I brought the Cup to his lips.
“What …fills the Cup?”
“Rest. Stillness. Oblivion.” I said, pouring the dark liquid between his lips.
With a thunderous —CRACK- every soldier of his shining army …vanished, and the howling winter gale quieted.
With a splutter, Amangons stood from his throne.
“No …noooo …cursed woman, my divinity is gone; you have murdered it!”
His feet moved in jagged hitches, and he staggered from the great hall in a ragged running weave. Howls echoed the chamber long after he was gone.
The elfin host stood in silence, from disbelief I supposed. To suffer so much from this creature and to have it end this abruptly must have been …anticlimactic?
Epona broke the quiet, and when she spoke, her voice resonated with …I don’t know …wonder?
“His immortality was his suffering, and you made him mortal! Praise Selene, you did it!”
“Pretty much, but…” Why wasn’t anyone chasing after him? “…the bastard’s getting away, as we stand here with our thumbs up our-”
“-Kiara, love, you saved us all!” Cinnia said. She was first to me and she wrapped her arms around me.”
“Well …yeah …I guess so.”
I had. And all it had taken was one simple lesson.
One painful, soul splitting thirty-three year long lesson. My head throbbed, and my soul was weary.
Yet around me, my sisters lay defiled and broken. My countrymen decimated. Our land, bound in ice.
My Cup Bearer instinct kicked in again. Compelling me.
“More to do. More to heal…”
“Aye, Bearer, for you there is,” Epona took my face in her hands and looked into my eyes. “But not alone. Restore your sisters, then shall the Nine shall ride, throughout our land, to bring Her healing and hope.”
I knew where my first healing must be.
Holding the cup aloft, I walked to where I heard quiet weeping. There, on the stone floor, in Arthmael’s arms, lay Fiona.
I knelt before her.
“O seeker, let me gaze into your eyes, so I may feel your ailment and bring you succor.”
“Cease your fidgeting,” Cinnia said. “Or you will wrinkle it.”
“I. am not. fidgeting!”
I was, in fact, fidgeting, with this stupid ceremonial Cup Bearer costume Epona insisted I wear. 'Go', she’d said, 'out among our people. Heal them with Her Cup and inspire them by your presence.'
So here I am, in all my inspiring glory, wearing a white gauzy gown that stretches to the ground. A matching cape —a cape, for Christ’s sake!- hangs from my shoulders, and a belt of interlinking silver medallions circles my waist.
We stood in an open pavilion at Ysrial's center, a few blocks from Selene’s temple. The weather had warmed, thank God -or Selene, I guess- or I’d be freezing my ass off. I'd finally been able to set my Cup down after the steady river of Ysrial citizens seeking cures tapered off. I was so exhausted I didn't think I could lift it again.
More to do though; the nine Bearers ride soon, to travel the length of the kingdom, healing as we go. We each take different routes and Epona sends me to the Duchy of Broges, where I’ll reunite with a mother and father I haven’t seen in three weeks.
Or thirty-three years and three weeks, depending on which side of me looked at it.
“Good, alone at last,” Cinnia said. She had been at my side the last few hours. “Now, if you will shut up about how you look like this Princess Leia I have never heard of, I will share a secret with you.”
‘Shut up.’ She’d picked that phrase up from me. I wondered how soon she’d learn my curse words. I shut up.
“Kiara! Brian!” She snapped her fingers in my face. “Both of you.”
“Hmm?”
“You are still unsettled from your ordeal, so pay attention; I have something I wish to share with you. First, I must beg your forgiveness for the way I-”
“-Ho there! Lady Kiara! Cousin! I come to bid farewell!”
Eamann galloped to us on Bright Star, and dismounted in a spectacular vault. He whipped off his bright red beret and bowed to us.
“What is this, cuz? You are not to be in Kiara’s entourage?”
“Alas, no. I ride with the Lady Fiona’s company.”
“As does Lord Arthmael…” she said, flashing me a sly grin.
“True! Eager am I to show him my worth!” Jesus, his chest puffed up!
“And Fiona’s journey passes through Duke Judoc’s estates, I believe?”
“It is so,” he answered, as his lips curled to smile. Too late he realized Cinnia’s trap.
“But I doubt I shall even see Catriona, or if I do, only from afar,” he said to me quickly, his eyes scanning my face.
Catriona was Duke Judoc’s daughter, and my rival in a match for Eamann’s affection, my Kiara memory told me. My memory also said she was winning.
“I count the moments until we meet once more, fair Kiara.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lips. Again, words deserted me and my mouth flopped open. He winked, slapped his beret back on his head, and galloped away.
“Your prospects are much improved with my cousin,” Cinnia said, this time her eyes scanned my face.
“Catriona can have the little kiss ass.”
“What a brilliant phrase! I must make a note to use it. Heh! Eamann is a ‘kiss ass.” Her laughter rang in the air. “I take it you no longer pine for my kiss ass cuz.
“Nope.” In this my two sides were in blessed agreement. “Not at all.”
“Wonderful. This makes what I have to ask easier,” she said. “As I was saying before he-”
“-Bearer Kiara Esmeé!”
Lord Arthmael and Lady Fiona approached us. My Kiara side was mortified when they knelt before me, and my Brian side was clueless on what to do.
“I seek your forgiveness, Bearer,” Arthmael began, with bowed head. “I am shamed by my criminal treatment of you.”
“And I, shall forever be in your debt,” Fiona continued, her voice sounding weak still, but steadying.“For releasing me from my bondage to that monster and for healing me.”
I knelt with them.
“This is …bullshit! Quit acting like I'm something special, you two. You,” I took Arthmael’s hand “love her with every fiber in you, and were mad with grief. If I were in your shoes, I’d have done a lot more than swatting me a couple of times. And you…”
I turned to Fiona. “…are not in my debt. I did as you or any of my sister Bearers would. Don’t make me out to be a saint. Now, go away and do, um, Lord and Lady stuff. Please leave before I say something stupid.”
Arthmael furrowed his brow. “Your modesty surpasses your colorful speech. Yet we would do more for you. You sacrificed all, and part of you is lost in another world, I fear. Is there nothing I can do for …Brian Cooper …to ease his stay here?
Wow, he's a sharp one; the Brian in my liked this guy. But what could he offer? Ysrial was the opposite of old my life. I sighed.
“Not unless you know where I can get me some hot pizza and cold beer.”
My Kiara side told me nothing like that existed here, but Arthmael pondered a moment, and then cocked his head.
“Next time we are here together and matters have returned to normal, you and I shall don the guise of ordinary soldiers and visit the Pedlar's Tavern, down by the harbor.”
“Um …yes, m’Lord …but …uh, why would we do that?”
“They make a meat pie so spicy, the fire from it can only be quenched by quaffing the amber ale they sell. Which is the coldest in Ysrial. How sounds that ...Brian Cooper?”
“Fantastic. And if we could talk football, I'd say it would it was perfect.”
“Football … is a ...sport in your other world? Here we play málée. My royal command to you is to learn the game and pick a favorite team. Then shall we drink our ales and debate whose team is worthier into the small hours of the night. Is that an order you will follow?”
“Hell yes ...m'Lord.”
Laughing, they rose, and Fiona took me in her arms.
“When we return from our journeys, come to me, sister, for I would have my time with you. As brave a face as you show, I worry for what this ordeal has done to your soul.”
“I'll be okay, really, I-”
Fiona put a finger to my lips, and glanced to Cinnia “What was the vivid euphemism she just used?”
“Bullshit,” Cinnia said.
“Yes. You speak bullshit, Kiara. What the other Bearers suffered was horror, but you have healed us, and we have one another to lean on. What you endured is unimaginable and happened to you alone. You are split asunder and in need of healing, sister, but who heals the healer?”
She turned to Cinnia. “If you would do as we discussed, you must hurry, for the time is now.”
With that they left, and I eyed Cinnia.
“You two were talking about me?”
“About what you need for your healing.”
“What I need is rest. Which I'll find when I return to my bed in Broges. And speaking of …don't I need to pack for the trip?”
“I packed us this morning while you were healing our people.”
My pulse quickened. “Us? You're coming with me?”
“If it pleases you. Does it?” She moved close to me.
“Yes, it pleases me greatly.” Suddenly the trip was not a chore to be endured.
She gave me her crafty smile again. “Does it please you more than hot pizza and cold beer?”
God, she was a quick study. “Yes. Even more than that.”
She took my hands. “Yet I can think of something more pleasing still.”
I looked up into those big green eyes of hers. My voice turned breathy. “Yeah? What?”
“Do you remember the day we kissed under the cherry blossom trees on your parents’ estate?”
A Kiara memory bubbled up, of pink blossoms falling on her wine red hair. Her soft lips meeting mine…
“Forgive me. I was a moron to push you away, and for something as idiotic as my infatuation for á‰amann, and-”
“-Sshh. What a miracle. After you ended Amangons’ winter, Selene has reset the seasons and spring has come again to Ysrial.”
I was surprised by the sudden topic shift, but it didn't stop the Brian side of me from chiming in.
“That's impossible. The earth's orbit would have to be reversed to the point where the planet's tilt to the sun was at the spring position. Right?”
She shook her head. “I understand not what you said, but Selene must have ignored your impossibility, for once again the flowers bloom and the trees bud.”
I looked around, but since we were in the middle of the city's white-stoned pavilion, I didn't spot any growing things to verify her claim.
She saw my doubt. “Fiona has told me of a wooded park not five blocks from here, where a stand of cherry trees blossom again. Shall we go now to prove my statement and …finish what we started in that earlier grove?”
I bobbed my head, even as my smart ass reply slipped from my lips. “But won't such a venture wrinkle my fabulous gown?”
“Animals have fur for warmth as people have clothes. Yet our wonderful advantage over our furred brothers is when we wish it, we can shed our clothes.”
“Er, you want me to be …naked?”
She nodded. “As will I. Does this please you?”
“Yes,” I whispered, “very much.”
She tilted my chin up so I looked in her eyes again. “Which of you does this please? Brian or Kiara?”
“Both. Or, no, that's not right.” I paused to swim in my rising desires. My desires. “It doesn't please the 'Brian' or 'Kiara' me. It pleases me.”
“Yes. You. Whole. One person. I am your healing, and you are mine, for I have burned to hold you in my arms. Shall we?”
Should we? What did I have to worry about? The Cup? It was fine right where I left it, for who could take it? Anyone but me who touched it would be consumed by 'divine fire.' I mean, it is Her Cup; why not let Selene look after the damned thing for a little while.
“hell yes”
We ran.
“Scandalous!”
“Come in, and tell me, Aonghus,” Epona sighed, looking up from her desk. A map of the kingdom was spread before her, and she double checked the healing routes of the Nine.
“I spotted Kiara rolling naked in the park with that young herb woman! Cinnia whatsername.”
“And this is your business because…”
Aonghus planted himself in the chair before her desk. “There is so much more recovery work to do and Amangons has yet to be apprehended.”
Epona rolled up the map and tucked it into a drawer. Then she brought her hands back to the desktop, interlaced them, and smiled.
“Let us study her transgressions, shall we, my young priest?”
“Yes,” he smiled back. “Her behavior fits with her ‘Least of ‘Bearers’ nickname. I still do not understand why the Goddess chose her for the task.”
“Are there people in the city who go unhealed?”
“No,” Aonghus shook his head. “All have been tended to. Yet should not she be preparing for her journey?”
“This morning, Cinnia Yth'nai and I packed Kiara for her journey. She has no further preparations to make.”
“Oh.” Aonghus frowned. “Yet with the demon still on the loose, is it proper for her to behave so?”
“Hmm,” Epona said, stoking her chin, “General áed's men hunt Amangons as we speak. Would you have Kiara don armor and join the chase?”
“Er, no, of course not.”
“The greater part of Amangons is dead. And my auguries show that while he yet might work suffering in the world again, he will never return to trouble the elves. Do you doubt this?”
“No High Priestess,” he said, slightly dropping his eyes.
“Then what troubles you, m'boy?”
Aonghus crossed his arms. “Decorum, I suppose. Selene defeated Amangons' winter, and I believe a Cup Bearer should behave with more respect, in honor of Her mercy.”
Epona's eyebrow rose. “Is this what you think happened? That Selene defeated Winter?”
Aonghus made a sniffing sound. “And Amangons. Is it not obvious?”
“What is obvious is I have permitted your training to be incomplete, for there are huge gaps in your learning. Winter was not our enemy, but our friend.”
“How can that be? Amangons’ wintry siege almost destroyed us!”
“Aye, and when those who cherish life are killed before their time, it is called tragedy. Yet it is also tragic when those who long for death cannot find it.”
“Those who long for death?”
Epona rose from her chair and walked behind Aonghus, placing her hands on his shoulders.
“Son. Not all that lives should live. In her Crone aspect, Selene is death's face, and chooses that which will be renewed for spring, and that which will not. This is the necessity of winter. This lesson our 'Least of Bearers' learned, and so was able to transform the waters of life into death to heal Amangons of eternal suffering.”
Aonghus gulped. “She …did …that?”
“You had no idea? It amazes me still. I speak of it intellectually, but Kiara died, twice, and journeyed to another world, where she toiled for years to embody this lesson. To save us all. Yet you begrudge her an hour of pleasure?”
“I am sorry. I had no idea,” Aonghus whispered, bowing his head. “I did not think.”
“No, you did not,” Epona said, and thunked Aonghus on the back of his head. Then she looked to the ceiling.
“Forgive him, O Selene; you gave him a brain, yet it sits atop his neck, rested and unused.”
My High Priestess is wise.
I should not have favorites, but I love my 'Least of Bearers' without measure. Kiara’s fierce soul embraced death for my people, and she hunted suffering in both worlds. Though all benefit, it was for her I sent a second spring.
Epona is wise, but she has more to learn, too. For when she called my name, she looked up.
I am in the heavens, yes, but I am also under her feet. I am in the air she breathes, and in the blood pumping through her body. I am…
O seeker.
Do you wish to find me, so I can gaze into your eyes and bring you succor?
Would you seek me, as Kiara, with fierceness in your heart?
If you would know me, come to my Temples, true,
Yet limit not your quest to hallowed walls.
For I suffer too, and drink my healing,
From the cup of the world.
If you would find me, now, this moment,
Then come you to yon cherry tree grove,
Where pink blossoms fall as rain,
On Cinnia and Kiara entwined.
There!
I am there!
In the release of a sigh,
When the lips of lovers meet.
The Nightingale's Song
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Themes:
Permission:
The Nightingale's Song
by Armond
Anuvar, a glistening jewel in the sea, gifted by the Goddess to Her people. Yet their ears have become deaf to Her song, and a doom hangs over the Isle. The famed singer Orlando typifies their plight; the Goddess gifted him with the most amazing talent to stir men’s souls, yet he squanders it for wenching and wine. An horrific crime sets the troubadour on a different path, but will it lead to the redemption or damnation of the Isle?
Author’s note: the songs and verse in this story are a mix (in that I mixed their lines together) of (in no particular order) Rumi, Mirabai, Mary Oliver, Robert Bly, Ben Johnson, and, urm, me.
I.
1. Samhain
“I dreamed again last night.”
Jacob craned his head around from the milk cow and scowled.
“Blast and bother! Not another of those.”
Meg and her brother knew what he meant without naming it; the Goddess had been 'gifting' her with dreams of apocalyptic horrors ...droughts, plagues and invasions. Meg shook her head and resumed brushing Roc, one of their work horses.
“Naw, not one of those. But ...sadder maybe? I dreamed of the most beautiful nightingale, but ...she couldn't sing," Meg choked. “Her voice ...someone stole it. It was horrible.”
“Do not do this, woman” Jacob said.
“Do what?” Meg said, in her innocent voice, but Jacob would have none of it.
“You know full well what I mean. Torture yourself. Which you've done night and day since you came here. It's Samhain, and you ache to be in Anuvar for it. To be speaking the Invocation for the festival. And speaking of the festival, the Widow Themba says-”
“-Her again?” Meg snapped. “Somehow you always manage to find your way over to her place; if I didn't know better I'd say she's bewitched you.”
“She has not! Her and me are just friends,” Jacob said. “Any way, she told me Orlando will be singing for it this year.”
Orlando! If ever the Goddess gifted a mortal, with talent, it was he. A voice so smooth and pure, she bet songbirds flocked to him to hear his croon.
Some years back Meg heard the fellow in concert and was brought to ecstatic tears! If only he didn't squander his talents for such base pleasures! For the lad's reputation for chasing women was almost as great as that of his singing.
“Orlando, humph! Anuvar, humph! I told you when I moved here, I would never return to the Moon Temple again! Ever!”
Jacob returned to milking Lora, and muttered,
“...famous ...last ...words...”
2.
“Drink to me ...only with thine eyes ...and I will pledge with mine ...”
His voice floated to the audience, slipping smoothly into their ears, wrapping their minds in silk.
“Or leave a kiss but in the cup ...and I'll not look for wine...”
Sighs of 'Orlando' escaped the lips of his female fans; the men wished they were him.
The crowd surrounding him was the largest of the Samhain festival; and Anuvar's numbers were always massive. For the Moon Temple Sisters, lords and ladies from their capitol city, and visitors near and far traveled to eat harvest fare, drink frothy autumn ale. To dance, sing, and praise the Goddess for the passing year and the one to come.
At first glance, the crowds tonight might seem bizarre, frightening even, as all wore ghoulish masks. Yet this was Samhain, when the wall between living and spirit world was thinnest, and men and women wore hideous masks to ward away evil ghosts.
The famed singer was unaffected by the fantastical masked throng. Indeed, his mask was most outlandish of all: a one-of-a-kind horned devil mask made of bright red gold. Not that he needed to identify himself; women swooned for him from Port Town on the southern horn of their isle to the highlands of the northern tip. No, the reason the troubadour spent a king's ransom on his mask was because he could. His voice could call down pieces of gold from the heavens, it seemed.
“The thirst that from the soul does rise ...does ask a drink divine...”
That voice drifted, past the enraptured crowd, and into the festive market stalls, where people meandered this last lazy evening of fall.
“But might I of Her nectar sup ...I would not change for thine.”
Finding at last two lovers, Sasha and Tanya, masked in gold and silver, wandering hand in hand.
“Oooo, listen!” Tanya moaned, in her low alto growl. “It's Orlando! I've waited so long to hear him again!”
“You are my favorite singer,” Sasha whispered into Tanya's ear.
“I'm a poet, not a singer. Were you to hear me sing you would know the truth of my words,” Tanya answered. “Come! Let's hurry!”
Sasha grabbed a handful of Tanya's silver-blonde hair and yanked her close to growl, “why don't we find a shady spot nearby and put his love songs to good use, hmmm?”
“Goddess!” Tanya said. “Can this be the prim Captain of the Moon Temple Guards who never unbraids her hair?”
When Sasha shook her free-flowing copper hair, Tanya giggled. “I've created a monster!”
Orlando's voice wafted to the lovers:
“I sent thee late a rosy wreath...”
“Mmm,” Tanya moaned, leading Sasha to a nearby park with shadowy trees. “If you show me your rosy wreath, I'll show you mine.”
Sasha was a woman of actions not words; she pulled her hand-fasted mate down into a bed of autumn leaves and set to work.
3.
“Not too bad.”
Orlando yawned and tied the purse bag to his belt. It groaned with the gold coins showered on him after he finished his last set. With lute tucked underarm, he swam his way through the crowds toward the inn where he stayed.
The Samhain revelers would party past dawn, but he had other revels in mind — a pretty wench awaited him in his room. A most delicious dish, made all the more spicy by the fact she was newly wed ...to another man.
He almost felt sorry for the poor fellow; for Orlando would bring the girl to such ecstasy, her husband would forever after leave her frustrated and longing.
Then, he heard a voice: a copper haired lass in a golden mask, walking with another, and speaking something to her. He wasn't sure the words the lass spoke, but the vibration of her voice permeated his body, causing something deep within to sing back. A resonance he hadn't felt since first he made his way as a young singer.
Without thinking, Orlando stepped in front of the woman. He tossed his devil mask to the ground, raised her mask of gold,
...and kissed her.
His soul exploded with music!
...with joy!
...with ...pain?
No! Not his soul; it was his groin that now burned, and when Orlando could pry apart his teary eyelids, he realized he was on the ground and doubled over.
“You bitch!” the troubadour sang in a soprano squeal.
The women howled in laughter.
“Oh, my, Orlando, I've never heard you sing that song before,” the blond-headed one said. “Perhaps you should add more lyrics; 'awwoooooo' seems a bit redundant after a while.”
“Yet be proud,” the copper haired lass said, “I doubt you've ever hit so high a note!”
“You'll pay for this. By the Lady you will pay.”
The copper-haired lass' hand was fast around his throat. Who was this woman? Her grip was so strong, he couldn't breathe.
“Count yourself lucky, friend, that nothing more is damaged than your pride. Threaten me again, and I will cut off your balls.”
The woman released his throat, and she and her girlfriend drifted away into the autumn eve. When he could breathe again, Orlando grabbed his lute and skulked away into the dark.
Tanya and Sasha were still chuckling as they meandered down Anuvar's crowded streets.
“Should I be jealous?” Tanya said. “You were just smooched by our most eligible bachelor, ten years running; women throw themselves at his feet across our fair island.”
“Him? Ew.”
“I mean, did you see the look on his face as he kissed you?” Tanya pressed. “He was enthralled!”
“Ewwwwww!”
“Eww?” Tanya's eyebrow arched. “I've reduced the Captain of the elite Moon Temple Guard to saying 'eww'?”
“I'd rather you reduced me to 'mmmmm',” Sasha said. “Let's go home.”
“Why do you suppose he did it,” Tanya said, ignoring Sasha’s urgent tugs on her arm to lead her home.
“Why did he kiss me?” Sasha said. “I have no idea.”
“No, not that, silly. Why did choose the path he did?” Tanya said, turning to look back down the street they had just walked. The whoops and shouts she heard told her the Samhain celebration would not be winding down soon.
“I mean, the Goddess gifted him with such a glorious talent to inspire Her people. Yet he squanders it for wine, women and coin. Why?”
“Because he's a typical male?” Sasha grinned.
“No, seriously, his path could have been profound and enlightening, instead of one ruled by base cravings.
“I'm having some base cravings of my own,” Sasha said, licking the crook of Tanya's smooth neck.
“Again? You are a randy one tonight!” Tanya answered in a husky tone. “Yet still, it saddens me. Some of my best poems were written with his voice singing in my head. I've often thought ...dreamed even, of Orlando, singing my words to our people. His voice could reach into their hearts in ways I'll never be able to! Think of it! It would have been wondrous!”
Slowly the ecstatic spark left the blonde's eyes and she shook her head. “But to see him as we did tonight ...fills me with despair.”
“Talk about a romance killer,” Sasha answered. “All I can think of is him clutching his balls and howling, which doesn't, ya know, put me in the mood.”
Tanya looked down a street where vendors still hawked their festival treats; a wry smile crossed her face.
“You go on ahead and warm up the bed,” Tanya said. “I'll have a surprise for you.”
“No surprises, lover, I just want you,” Sasha whispered into Tanya's ear.
“You'll want this, trust me,” Tanya said, pulling away. “Now scat; I'll be right behind.”
4.
“About damn time; did you get lost?”
Sasha threw on her robe when the knock came. She had fallen asleep waiting for her lover's return. In her waking haze, she thought it odd Tanya would knock.
“Captain, it's me, Sargent Issin.”
“Jules?” Sasha tightened the robe belt and opened the door. “What's up?”
“There's been ...trouble. Hurry and dress; we must go to the hospital ward.”
Sasha saw how stiff the big woman stood, and how red her eyes were. From ...weeping? Jules never cried; what was wrong?
“Very well. Let me write a note for Tanya and-”
“-Captain ...Sasha ...it's Tanya. Someone attacked her and she's ...please! We must hurry.”
The next minutes were a daze to the young captain. She dressed -she must have- and remembered sprinting to the hospital, to find two of her guard, the twins Ona and Sheala, waiting.
“She lives,” Ona said.
“Yet hurry,” Sheala added, guiding the captain down the infirmary hallways. They stopped in front of a room where an elderly healer waited.
“I've done all I can, but ...she won't last much longer.”
“She's dying? No no no!” Sasha's heart stopped. “What happened?”
“Someone tried to rape her,” the healer said. “Tanya fought the bastard off, but he beat her, badly, and she bleeds inside. Hurry.”
And then Sasha was there, at her lover's side. Words froze in the young woman's mouth; her love, her heart, lay battered before her. Face bruised, lips split, eyes swollen shut. Sasha didn't know what to do — hug her? Shake her awake? Gently, she took Tanya's hand in hers, and Tanya's less swollen eye opened.
“Sasha. I'm sorry...”
“Sorry? Why should you-”
“-Shouldn't have left you.” Tanya whispered. “Went back to buy you Highlands chocolate. Your favorite.”
“C-chocolate? What happened?”
Tanya coughed, and blood edged from the side of her mouth. “Man came from behind ...dragged me into an alley ...tried to ...tried to...”
“What did he look like?” Sasha said.
“Don't know. Wore mask. Red gold. A ...a devil.”
“Orlando!” Sasha hissed.
“Only saw mask, and...” A coughing fit hit the battered woman; more blood. “...so cruel ...so much rage...”
“I will kill him!”
“No! Don't let hate consume you, love. I've worked so hard to get you to enjoy the gifts the Goddess grants us. Don't let my death destroy-”
“-Death?” Sasha threw herself across her lover. “Tanya! Don't leave me!”
“Stubborn stubborn Sasha. Death is an end, yes, yet the Goddess teaches it is a beginning, too. Let ...my passing ...be a new beginning for you...”
“I won't let you go! I won't!” Sasha howled.
But Tanya was already gone; her body had given its last breath.
After many minutes passed, Sargent Issen pried the captain from the dead body. But no tears flowed down Sasha's face; instead, her eyes shined.
“I will find him. I will rip his cock off. Then I will jam it down his throat until he chokes to death.” Sasha strode to the hallway.
“Captain! You cannot! Capital punishment is against the Goddess' law!”
Sasha paused. “Then I suggest you find him first.”
5.
“I know not how I lost my mask. It was of no consequence.”
“You would have the court believe you lost it?” Atael said.
“You have searched my room at the inn, yes?” Orlando said. “Presumably you could not find it, or you would not be asking me these questions. I demand you release me. I've told you I didn't do the deed. I have a lucrative singing engagement in Port Town I cannot miss.”
“Witnesses described it as fashioned from the finest red gold of the Anatol Isles. The mask's worth would be tremendous,” Atael said. Then the Moon Temple's chief law scribe pressed the point. “And you would have us believe you tossed it away; that you couldn't be bothered to pick it up from where you'd dropped it?”
“Money's never been an issue for me,” Orlando said, pushing his dark curls from his face. “Whenever I need more, I sing, and it comes.”
“How convenient for you,” Atael said, turning to the judge — Arch Priestess Miriam. “And from your previous statements, we are to believe you sought no retribution when Captain Catoriel rejected your advance. That you ...oh let's see, how did you phrase it?”
Atael glanced at the scrolls on her desk. “Ah, yes, that you, quote, 'found another wench who would do'.”
“I don't know what came over me, nor why I kissed the Captain as I did.” Orlando looked down into his hands. Then he looked up again. “And I would never force a woman to bed me against her will. Ever. You see, all come willingly to me; it is my gift from the Goddess. After the Captain and ...the priestess -Tina?- ...left me, I did find another, and spent the night with her. She will verify it.”
“Yes, your alibi. Let us examine that. Guards, bring forth witness Elin Osol.”
Ona and Sheala led a young -and well endowed- woman into the Moon Temple Justice hall. The lass looked up at the stone figure who dominated the room; Blind Justice, with scales in one hand and sword in the other. Elin swallowed, and sat.
“You are Elin Osol, married to the Baker Mahinder?” Atael said, after the girl took the witness chair. When she said “I am”, the prosecutor continued.
“Do you recognize the defendant?” Atael motioned to where the troubadour sat.
“Who does not know of the great Orlando?” Elin said.
“The witness will restrict her answers to 'yes,' 'no,' or 'I don't know,' Miriam said. Elin peered at the hooded woman, swallowed again, and lowered her head.
“Sorry ma'am. Yes, I know him.”
“He claims he was with you at the time Priestess Aeliana was attacked. Is this true?”
Elin glanced at Orlando, and then shook her head.
“You answer no?” Atael said.
“He was not with me that night.”
Orlando jumped to his feet. “But I bedded you! You moaned in ecstasy beneath me. Of all women, I chose you!”
“Silence!” Miriam shouted. “Witness Olson, would you swear an oath to the Goddess that you speak truth?”
Elin bit her lip, then gave a jerky nod.
“She lies, Arch Priestess!” Orlando shouted.
“I said SILENCE! I have heard enough. Remove the prisoner; return him to his cell. And send word to Captain Catoriel to come to my chambers.”
Atael approached Miriam's judgment seat, and addressed her in a low voice.
“You did not have the baker's wife swear, I noticed; only asked if she would. Why?”
“Bearing false witness in the Goddess' name is a crime. As Her chief representative, I must act when I hear it. Yet, saying you will bear false witness is not a crime.”
“The Arch-Priestess has a nuanced view of the law, I see.”
“These are nuanced, times, Atael.” Miriam glanced up at the Goddess' face of justice. “Do you believe he did it?”
“I do,” Atael nodded, unsure if the peppered-haired woman was addressing her or the statue. “But I'm the prosecutor; I believe everyone is guilty of something. Orlando? He should be punished for his monumental arrogance alone.”
Miriam gave a tiny smile. “You are wise, Atael. Thank you for your work. I will render judgment soon.”
Sasha entered Miriam chamber after Atael left. Her copper hair was braided tight and she wore her crisp formal white captain's uniform. All was in order, except for the young officer's eyes, which gleamed. Sasha knelt to one knee before Miriam and bowed her head.
“Arch Priestess.”
“Arise, Captain and sit; we must talk.”
When Sasha was seated in the chair before Miriam's desk, the older woman sat back in her chair and folded her fingers together.
“I will cut to the heart of the matter; I will find him guilty. The standard punishment is imprisonment. Will this satisfy you?”
Sasha shook her head. “I would kill him.”
“Yes, I know; twice your own guard has restrained you from slaughtering him in his cell; it is why you were banned from the trial.”
“Mark my words, I swear by the Goddess I will see the last breath leave Orlando's lips.”
“That you will not do; even I cannot bend the Goddess' rules if you were to do so. However...” Miriam leaned forward. “If you could pick Orlando's punishment -short of his death- what would you choose?”
“I ...I don't understand. Are you saying that I-”
“-Can determine his sentence. Yes. What penalty would you impose?”
Sasha clinched the arms of her chair, drove her nails into the wood.
“She was my heart, my soul; she was everything dear to me. To us all! So …I would take everything from him.”
“Could you, er, be more specific, Captain?”
“The Lady blessed him with a voice that could move rocks to tears; Tanya talked about the good such a man could do. Yet he uses it to seduce women and earn fame and coin...”
Sasha stood and paced the chamber.
“When I rejected him, for once in his spoiled life he did not receive what he desired and he lashed out, to try to rape...”
A sob fought to find its way from her throat, but she beat it down with a growled no!
“Tanya was helpless; she was the Temple poet for Goddess sake! And he beat her to death. You ask what I want? That all he values be ripped from him. I would see him helpless, nameless, and...” inspiration came to the captain,
“...songless.”
Miriam sat silent several minutes before speaking. “I can grant you this, if...”
“If what?”
“Captain. You and I have never much cared for each other. Ever since I forced Meg out, you've kept you distance.”
Sasha stiffened. “I am very close to her.”
“Of course; she was as a grandmother to you, all knew this. Listen - the portents and arguers tell me difficult times are coming. I need the support of all in the Temple, if we are to guide our land through the trouble. Most importantly, I need the undivided support of the Moon Temple Guard. To be blunt, I need you to have my back.”
Sasha had not been promoted to her position by being stupid. She knew what Miriam was asking. There was a faction of priestesses who opposed Miriam. The women were angered at how she forced Meg out several years ago, and troubled at the questionable teachings and methods of their new Arch-Priestess. Miriam had not been able to win them over with bribes; now she sought muscle. Before Tanya's death, Sasha would have rejected Miriam's offer and sought to have her tossed from her office. But now...
“And if I give you my unquestioning support, and that of the Guards-”
“-Then Orlando will be punished before your eyes tonight, exactly as you wish it. Do you so swear?”
Sasha knelt before the Arch-Priestess again. “By the Goddess I swear it!”
“It is well. Have Orlando brought to the Temple Altar at midnight. There is deep magic to be worked tonight.”
Sasha blinked. “But ...isn't it forbidden for a man to see Her Holy of Holies?”
“Worry not, my captain, I know a loophole.”
6.
Tanya touched many many lives.
None more than Sasha's Moon Temple Guards. When the mysterious identical twins appeared at the Temple -looking like they had been raised by highland wolves- it was Tanya who took them under her wing. She taught them their letters so they could pass the Guard's literacy test. More importantly, though Ona and Sheala had amazing wilderness and tracking skills -and were uncanny with their whips- it was Tanya who schooled them in the social graces of the Temple.
Jules became a fan of Tanya's the night the skinny girl managed to match her ale for ale. The big woman loved the poet so much, she had Tanya write the vows for her handfasting with Hans. Jules poured her feelings out to Tanya as the poet composed the vows; Jules shared feelings she had never spoken to another soul.
Like Sasha, they needed closure to Tanya's death. And so, it was they who accompanied Sasha as she 'escorted' Orlando from his cell to the Altar room in the dark of midnight.
Though they dragged the blindfolded -and naked- man, he did not resist, for earlier that evening they spiked his tea with powerful herbs. Orlando stumble-swayed in a drunken gait. The Guards paused as they entered the inner most room of the Temple, to take in the vast marble columns, made all the more foreboding in the flickering light.
In the room's center stood the Altar, a massive stone table, and on each side, a three-meter wide shallow saucer on a stone tripod. Golden flames burned and sparked in the trays. Behind the Altar loomed a colossal bronze statue; a woman clothed in a toga with the left breast expose. In her left hand she held the crescent moon as a sickle, and on her right open palm, a songbird sat.
Miriam strode into the chamber draped in the purple and silver robe of the Arch-Priestess. The two priestesses accompanying her -Naomi and Janina- gasped at the sight of the naked man.
“Sacrilege!” Janina said. “No man may see Her Holy of Holies and leave the Temple alive!”
Miriam held a hand up for silence. “Worry not, priestess, when this ceremony is concluded, you will see no sacrilege has occurred.”
Orlando was dropped at Miriam's feet. His head flopped to one side and drool rolled from the side of his mouth.
“Arch Priestess?” Naomi asked. “What ceremony are we conducting? You said we were to perform a purification ritual, yet-”
“-As you have surmised from the presence of this man, we are not performing a standard ritual. Tonight, we are the Goddess' instrument of justice.
Miriam scanned the faces of the women. This is a ritual only those deemed worthy by the Lady are allowed to have knowledge of; no one ...NO ONE! may speak of what happens next. To explain the disappearance of our prisoner, our official story is Orlando has escaped.”
Sasha shook her head. “Neither I nor my guard shall break trust, honored one; we seek justice.”
“Then let us have it,” Miriam said, and lifted her arms to the bronze statue.
“Hear my plea, great Goddess! Use my body as a vessel. Fill me with your power. That I may give this one the sentence he deserves.”
Miriam spoke and a great vibration answered. Energy waves showered down in a sub-octave humm, encircling the High Priestess in a rainbow sparkling aura.
Miriam turned back to the prone figure before her.
“Your name, I erase!”
Miriam touched a finger to Orlando's forehead. Sparks flew and Orlando's body spasmed.
She next laid her hands on his chest.
“Your form, I change!"
His skin, his muscles, his bones, warped, melted, rearranged. A howl of pain sprang from his ...no! her lips, for when the glow that encircled Orlando's body receded, a petite black-haired girl lay where man had been.
Last, Miriam reached to Orlando's stomach, and then through the girl's skin and into her body.
“Your music, I take!”
Miriam yanked her hand out. When she opened it, something winged and white, flew up through the Temple sky window and out into the night.
In a recent skirmish with a northmen raiding party, Sasha and her guard cornered the men in a farmhouse. Rather than risk the lives of her women, Sasha ordered the twins to shoot flaming arrows into the farmhouse windows, to smoke the men out. To her horror, the men waited too long to leave the burning building, emerging engulfed in flesh eating flames. The echoes of the screams would haunt the captain's dreams for years.
Yet their screams were as nothing next to the eardrum shattering shrieks that poured from Orlando's mouth. The girl clawed at her stomach, and her howls were so loud, the Temple columns started to vibrate in resonance.
“Silence her, or she will bring the Temple down around us!” Miriam shouted.
Jules connected her huge fist to Orlando's jaw, whiplashing the girl's head and cutting off the screams.
Another sound hum fell from the bronze statue and onto the Arch-Priestess. Her eyes rolled back into head and her mouth opened.
“Deliver this girl to she who stood here before me.”
Then Miriam swayed, and Sasha rushed to catch her.
“Miriam? What was that?”
“I ...she ...the Goddess ...spoke to me! Through me.”
“But I don't understand what you said,” Sasha said.
“She who stood here before me ...was Meg." As the Goddess power fled her, Miriam's voice became raspy. "The Goddess has spoken. This one must be taken to Meg.”
“But when I sought retribution, I did not envision this,” Sasha said, looking at the small feminine -a now bloody- figure before her. “I had hoped for more-”
“-More what?” Miriam said. “For I have given you exactly what you wished. This one is now nameless, helpless and songless.”
“I had hoped for more suffering.”
"Her suffering has just begun, but..."
Miriam's mind scrambled for more loopholes. Interpretations. “She shall ...hmm ...be given to Meg as ...a slave ...to work on her farm. The great troubadour shall spend the rest of her days as little more than a domesticated animal in a backwater farm. And...”
Miriam thought through more shades of gray. “...You, and your guard will take her. For though the Goddess decreed this -thing-” Miriam looked down at the girl, and spat, "is to be delivered alive, She said nothing beyond that. Will that be enough ...satisfaction, Captain?”
Sasha thought for some moments. “It is a long way to Meg's farm.”
“Indeed, Captain.”
“Much can happen along the way,” Sasha said. “If ...she ...tried to escape, harsh ...measures would be needed. Often.”
“All I ask is she be alive when delivered. Whether that means fully, somewhat, or barely alive, I leave to you. Will this be enough?”
“Tanya is dead, so nothing could ever be enough,” Sasha said. “But I will take what I can get.”
“Tarry not with Meg. I will need you -and your Guard- with me from now on, I fear.”
“It will be as you say, for I have sworn it,” Sasha bowed, and then turned to her Guards. “Ladies? We are going on a journey which will prove most satisfying! Prepare the prisoner; we ride at dawn.”
Jules lifted the unconscious girl and slung her over her shoulder like a sack of grain. She clubbed the girl's back with a forearm. “Beat poor Tanya to death did ya? We'll see how ya like be'in on the other end of the stick this time, lass.”
After the guard left, Miriam turned to her priestesses. “Witness! A man neither saw Her Holy of Holies, nor did a 'man' leave here alive.”
The priestesses nodded in unison. “Witnessed, Arch-Priestess.”
“Nuanced understanding indeed,” Miriam murmured, as they exited the Altar room.
Once they had, the gold flamed tripods -for a moment- sputtered and bellowed black smoke.
II.
1.
"So honored one, do ye wish this creature? The Arch Priestess decreed she is to be given to you as a beast of burden."
Jules shifted in the seat of her wagon to turn away from the north wind, her heavy gray cloak flapping about her.
None of this made sense to Meg. The woman who robbed her of her position gives her another human being? That was so against the Lady's teachings it staggered her mind to think on it.
This creature at her feet -a girl, she gathered, through the grim, dried blood, and excrement- what had she done to merit this treatment from the Arch-Priestess?
And Sasha's absence. She rode with Jules, but wouldn't say hello to the woman who adopted her? Was she ashamed of what Miriam had ordered her to do?
“Where is my granddaughter? I would see her.”
“She feared seeing you would stir emotions.”
Meg wondered if the people in Anuvar adopted a new language since she left. Because, the sergeant's words were indecipherable.
“Of course emotions would be stirred! I love her!”
Jules looked away from Meg's gray-eyed gaze. “She is a changed woman. She ...allows no emotion but vengeance to enter her mind.”
“Bah. Absurd. What craziness is this? And what does Tanya-”
“-Is dead.”
“W-what? No!” Meg felt she had been kicked in her stomach.
Jules lowered her head. “I am sorry to tell you so bluntly, revered one. Forgive me.”
“H-how did it happen?”
“This one...” Jules spat on the shivering moaning girl. “Killed her.”
Tanya gone! The pain Sasha must be suffering. And Miriam sent her the murderess? Meg's mind could process no more.
“Meg, please decide,” Jules said in as soft a voice as the big woman could manage.
“Things are changed in Anuvar since you left the Temple,” Jules said. “There is ...unrest. Ill tidings. The Moon Temple Guard is needed more and more to keep peace. I must hurry to catch my comrades; will you have this one?”
Meg squinted at the figure huddled on the ground next to the wagon. Tanya's killer, if she believed the sergeant.
Bruises and gashes covered her body from head to toe, and her feet looked little more than masses of bloody blisters. Had they run the girl here? Or dragged her?
“She’s more dead than alive if you ask me.”
“It tried to escape along the way and was punished. Do you want it or no?”
The elderly woman hobbled nearer to where the girl lay in the dust, to confirm she was even breathing. This one looked so small and young. Hard to imagine her managing to kill a mouse.
“And why did Miriam send the girl to me? Does the so-called Arch Priestess expect me to redeem her?”
“Miriam has worked wonders; if you have doubts, ask this one. But Redemption? For this scum? There can be no redemption for it,” Jules said. “If the law permitted it, I would choke the life from her now.”
“But the Lady's law does not permit it, Meg said, then gave a sigh.
'Why bother?’ she thought. Why would she want to be saddled with this? She should refuse. Then the girl would die soon enough, which is better than she deserved; Tanya! Poor sweet dear!
Meg started to say no, when a quiet voice spoke in her.
Touch her, Meg.
Meg blinked. She felt the Goddess' presence in all she did, but this contact was a bit more direct than she was used to.
She had been Arch-Priestess of the Moon Temple for decades and passed judgment on many dark souls. If the Goddess wills it, she would look at this one; a quick search of the girl's soul.
Meg grabbed the girl’s grimy face and peered into her eyes, the gateway to the soul. She prepared to ram her perception through, but found no need, for there was no resistance. Soul sensing was not mind reading, but a deep empathetic divining, and what she sensed from this one was a shattering; she was a broken vessel.
Sparkling blues, greens and purples flashed in Meg’s mind, like shards of glass... At one time, this soul was capable of wondrous magic. Overlaying the brightness, Meg also sensed decay, wasted life. At the center of this one was a gaping hole. Something had been ripped away. But ...where were the stains of evil? The black aura?
Meg pushed deeper and sensed fear, anger and bleak despair, but no darkness.
Listen!
An image flashed in her mind: a tiny brown bird -a nightingale- lying on muddy ground, with dark red blood from a wound, pooling beneath it. Barely breathing. Silenced.
The bird of my dream!
Meg's consciousness snapped back; whatever crimes this one committed, Meg was certain murder was not one.
She held her palms open over the girl and felt a strong tingling. Years of working with the Goddess craft told her iron bands of magic encircled the girl.
She stepped back to regard her again; gaunt, and shivering, dressed in dirty rags, with hollow eyes.
“Well?” Jules asked Meg sighed. Had she energy for this? Why couldn’t the world let her die in peace; it discarded her easily enough. But by the Goddess, she had seen…
“I will keep this one, to see if she may be of use.”
“As you wish, priestess.” Jules leaned forward in the wagon to place the girl’s leash into Meg's creased hand. Then she raised her hand in the Goddess salute. “Fair thee well, honored one.”
Meg watched her shake the reins of her horse team and turn the wagon west, to the Temple of the Moon. Three days hard riding, if the weather stayed put.
She looked again on the crumpled girl and shook her head.
What could this mystery mean?
Energy drained from her as the full impact of Tanya's death hit her. She would be numb at first, and then the grieving would start. Tanya!
No, she had no energy to investigate the girl now, no matter what the 'quiet voices' said. But soon she would perhaps? For the first time in many moons, Meg was intrigued. Movement from the sky caught her eye: snowflakes. A soft wet snow started to fall, and would soon cover the lonely farm in white.
“We’ve not much time, come!” Meg pulled the girl to her feet as gently as she could and helped her walk. Every step drew a moan of pain, but Meg could tell nothing was broken, thank the Goddess.
“I am sorry for your hurt, but there is nothing for it.” Meg said, “Soon enough I shall lay you on warm soft hay to tend your wounds. But first, to the well. You reek of excrement.
2. Winter Solstice
“Gel? Where have you got to? Light is precious today and there's work to be done!”
Jacob had fetched Meg to wake the girl when she had not shown up for breakfast. So funny! A man his age too shy to rouse the lass. Funnier still -and endearing- was how Meg's brother now acted as a protective father and worried at the girl's absence.
Meg had grown fond of her too; how could she not? Though Jules claimed the girl was guilty of murdering Tanya, Meg was convinced it was not so. In truth when they delivered her, she seemed little more than an abused animal. Her physical injuries, though grave, turned out to be the lesser of her wounds. Her mental state was another matter. As the care they showed the little one took hold, she started to function again. That was when the trouble started...
First she tried to hang herself from the barn rafters. By the luck of the Lady, the girl was inept at tying knots, and ended up dislocating a shoulder.
To prevent a repeat performance, Meg used her Goddess craft to lay a geas on the girl, which prevented her from taking her life. In retaliation, the girl stopped eating. But self-starvation is a near impossible suicide to work, and she finally relented and ate.
Meg struck a deal then, promising that if the girl obeyed her and worked hard, she would feed the girl and treat her well. The girl agreed with a jerky nod, and from that moment forward she obeyed Meg's commands without question.
Which made the girl's tardiness this morning all the more mysterious. Meg called a few more times, but the girl failed to appear. She limped across the frozen ground to the barn, and opened the door a crack.
“Child?”
She smelled her before she saw her, a dank blood odor. Meg opened the barn door wide to let in the white morning light, and saw her curled up in the yellow straw, clutching her stomach.
“What’s the matter, lass?”
“I bleed.”
Meg started at the soft sound of the girl's voice, her first spoken words since she arrived. Until that moment, Meg hadn't known if the girl could speak. Meg knew the problem; it did not take a priestess to figure it out.
“It's your moontime, lass? Why didn't you tell me? I'd have had a loin pad ready, though I haven't had to use one in years.
“I'm bleeding,” she moaned, which to Meg sounded more surprise than pain.
Meg squinted to see the girl face; her short black hair contrasted the red flush of her cheeks. She was ...embarrassed?
“Why act so? It's not as if this is your menarche, a girl your age? You have had these before, yes?
“No. Never, I was a m-” The words halted in her mouth as if someone clamped a hand over it. She shook her head and reached out to Meg. “Please? Help me?”
Meg was going to challenge her still — it was not possible the girl had never had a period before- but something in her voice melted Meg's resolve.
“You aren't dying, lass! Go and wash; I'll sew clean rags together. Then help Jacob herd the flock to forage in the high pasture. Exercise will do you good.”
When the girl sat up, Meg saw the tears glistening.
“Thank you.”
'What a wonder,' Meg thought, as she hobbled back to the farmhouse.
Though it was the coldest, darkest day of the year, those simple words of gratitude from the girl's soft voice made Meg’s heart vibrate warm and bright.
3. One week past Imbolic
Sheep have it so easy.
For sheep appeared to stay warm no matter how much the wind howled.
The girl wrapped her woolen coat tighter, but it did no good.
Nothing did; she was always cold. Ever since they changed her and ripped away her mu-
"-No! I won't think about it. It does no good.”
She returned her thoughts to the flock. They were as they always were, oblivious, foraging, and warm in their fleece.
She blinked as the north wind smacked her face. Gray sky. Snow coming, Meg said this morning.
Meg. Who used to be the Arch-Priestess; she remembered her. The girl longed to tell her all, longed to...
Well, she simply longed to hold her, for she sensed rock solid strength and calm in the elderly woman, and the girl needed that; she felt so utterly alone. But she couldn't; some magic stopped the words in her mouth. Just as Meg's magic stopped her from killing herself. What was she now, some puppet to be changed and danced however one with power wanted?
"No. Stop. No. More. Bitterness."
The girl shook her head and looked back to the brown pasture to glance at the sheep. Grays and browns. That was her life now.
"WHY?"
As always when she posed this question, the answer she got was a sheep's bleat, crow's caw, or wind.
"I didn't do it."
She had gone over it again and again, thinking, maybe she had done what they said. Maybe she lost her mind and didn't remember attacking Tanya.
She knew the woman's name; knew all their names, for she remembered every tiny detail of trial in the weeks that had passed.
She pictured the priestess: platinum blonde hair and silver mask - she had never seen the woman's face, only Captain Catriol's. Only Sasha's. A woman she had been drawn to by the sound, the vibration, of her voice alone.
Sasha, who now hated her so much, she had wished this hell on her.
She hadn't remembered how it happened; it was all a hazy dark blur. But the women who brought her here -the big one Jules, the twins Ona and Sheala with their terrible whips, and Sasha, had happily told her all the details of her change, as they did other things to her.
Empty empty. My music is gone.
"Stop. Just stop."
She couldn’t even tell herself to stop, because she couldn't remember her name. Like her music, like her body, her name was gone.
"But I didn't do it!"
No matter how hard she tried to figure out if she had somehow committed the horrible crime, her thoughts always ended back to that answer. She was certain; she was innocent.
"Then why?"
A bird landed on her knee. A nightingale.
Who sang, the sweetest song the girl had ever heard. She wasn't sure how long the bird sang -she lost track of time- but when the bird finished, the girl found her face wet with tears.
The bird's notes acted as medicine to her, temporarily giving her relief from her emptiness. If only the nightingale could sing again.
She tried to think. When she was that ...other person, whose name she no longer possessed, when she was him people knew that to hear more, they must pay in gold. What did she have to give?
"Friend... I... loved your singing so, I long to hear more. But I have nothing to give you, I-"
The little bird cocked her head and flew away.
The girl fell to the ground, clutching her stomach; the silence -the return of her emptiness- hurt a hundred times worse than anything the Moon Temple Guard had done to her. She couldn't move; she barely could breathe.
Then ...the nightingale return. With friends. A dozen, no, dozens of nightingales, flocked around her, and sang.
Somewhere, between her ecstasy, in between the laughing and crying, it occurred to her, they returned for no payment or profit. They did it, just to sing.
4.
Torvald motioned for his men to move faster. His orders were to march inland two leagues, no more, then return in their skiff to report. For generations, the Isle had been protected by the cursed goddess they worshipped; stopping every attempt they made to conquer it. Yet now rumors spread by returning raiders that their goddess no longer protected the Isle’s shores, the land was fat with riches, and its people easy pickings.
King Jarl wanted to know the truth of these reports, for if so, then he would muster his army in the late spring and take it.
They sailed leagues and leagues along the coast, and found no fortresses or watchtowers; the place seemed indeed unguarded. Perhaps the myth of the protecting deity was all the defense they possessed.
Already his men sensed the prizes the land offered, thousands of prime acres for the taking, with a population of readymade slaves. His bowman Dag voiced what all his men thought, we bring blood and death in a glorious march across this land!
Sasha peered down from her hiding spot on the embankment. Below, she counted six ...no, seven men, pulling a skiff onto shore.
"Sigr er dauá°a blá³á°"
Sasha's translation skills could have been better, but she definitely picked out blood and death.
No doubt who they were: "Northmen," Sasha whispered to her great steed, Sunshine.
The captain studied the men as best she could in the moonlight. At first she reckoned they were marauders come to the Isle for a quick strike; more and more of the eastern villages had reported attacks by such raiding parties in the weeks since Samhain. They petitioned the Arch-Priestess for help, and in a show of support, Miriam dispatched Sasha and her Guard to their eastern coast. Miriam ordered Sasha to not engage the northmen if she encountered them; the exercise was for optics only.
Though the Sun Temple stood close by, the monks there were a non-military lot, lacking the ability to protect their own monastery, much less neighboring villages. Miriam’s agenda was to poach some of their followers and —therefore- increase the Moon Temple tithes.
Yet Sasha’s agenda since Tanya’s death was unchanged; the strange gleam still glowed in her eyes.
Vengeance.
She spread her guard along the coast line several nights in a row, to note where any raiders may come ashore. Sasha equipped her women with signal mirrors this night, as the waxing moon held enough light to permit their use. If northmen were spotted, Sasha’s orders were for the signal to be flashed to all the Guard, and they would gather at the rendezvous point to decide their next action.
“I should signal the others, shouldn’t I,” Sasha whispered to Sunshine. Who gave no response in return.
Seven men. Sasha’s sword hand stroked the handle of her saber.
As she studied them longer, she noticed how they wore similar clothing -uniforms?- moved in an organized formation, and salutes were given to their leader after he spoke.
This is a military detail!
Sasha thought further. Reconnaissance? But for what? An invasion?
“If I do retreat to gather the others, I may lose track of them,” Sasha whispered to Sunshine, her grin spreading. “I cannot allow them to return to their mainland with their report, right Sunshine? It is my duty to stop them.”
This time Sunshine did nod his head and snort. He was ever ready to charge into danger.
One against seven was long odds. There was a greater chance she would die if she did attack.
At least that was what she hoped.
She threw her leg over her saddle and drew her saber. Leaning close to Sunshine’s ear, she whispered,
“None but the Lady lives forever, Sunshine, charge!”
Her great warhorse leaped.
5.
Rain beaded on her black silky hair, the drops glistening from the yellow candlelight of the farmhouse.
“Ma'am?” A soft soprano voice asked. “I am done.”
Meg looked up from the brownish-yellow parchments spread before her — her journals from her Arch Priestess days. She avoided them for two solid years, ever since she had been forced out of office by Miriam. Meg wanted to remember now - some seedling had sprouted in her soul these past months, she couldn't fathom why ... perhaps Imbolic, Spring’s first stirrings? Maybe enough time had passed for the bitterness to fade? Or maybe it was the girl...
Goddess alone knew. Meg had a notion, though; something was coming, and she needed to be ready.
“Bellah and Roc are in their stalls and rubbed down? The chickens in their coop with feed?”
The girl nodded 'yes'.
“Good girl. Go clean for supper. And do something with your hair! It looks like birds are nesting in it. I've never seen a girl so pretty who cared so little for her looks! And hurry; Jacob is cleaning up and will be ready soon. Don't make him wait at the table.”
The girl nodded again and started to leave, but Meg stopped her:
“One more thing — Jacob and I grow weary of calling you 'gel.' I don't care what crime you did, you ought to be named! Even the animals are named! Since you will not speak yours, I've ciphered a new one. It came to me by a dream — I'll call you 'Gale'”
“Ma'am?”
“Yes?”
“Why ...Gale?”
“As I said, it came in a dream, about a nightingale. I thought to call you Nightin, but settled on Gale,” Meg said, smiling. “Do you wish another, or to tell your birth name?'
The girl responded as always — head down, frustrated voice: “I cannot speak it; it is gone. All gone.”
“Then it's settled; Gale it is.”
“G-a-l-e.”
The girl rolled the word in her mouth, savoring it.
“I said it!” She clapped her hands. “I am named again!”
“Heavens, child, it is but a name; I didn't expect you to burst into song.”
The girl fell to her knees at Meg's words, clutching her stomach.
“What's wrong? Are you ill?”
“Gone gone. The music is ripped from my soul! I'm so hollow! Why did the Goddess let them? Why?”
“Of what do you speak?”
“I cannot say! I am not permitted to! The words will not come to my mouth. It would be better I die than to have that taken from me...”
She let out a long sigh. Then stood, straightened her rough blouse, and bowed her head to the old priestess.
“You have shown me such kindness by your gift and I repay it with anger. Forgive me.”
“Oh pooh, think nothing of it.” Meg said.
She wanted to ask so many questions now, but held her tongue; the girl was fragile yet, for all the way she had come since she arrived. So instead, she swatted the girl's behind.
“Now, go, Gale of the Twigs In Her Hair. Get cleaned up for dinner, or you will be known as Gale the Hungry tonight.”
The girl nodded, but stopped. “Ma'am?” Her hazel eyes were wide and wet.
“Yes?”
She knelt before Meg and kissed her hand. “Thank you.”
The girl flashed another doe-eyed look, then ran out the door.
'A name. A simple name. Yet from the way she acted, you would have thought I'd given her all the gold in the Isle,' Meg thought. And by the Lady what did she mean about stolen music?
For the thousandth time, Meg wondered what wrong the tender girl did to deserve enslavement. She heard a *harumph*and saw Jacob standing in the doorway, clean-faced and fresh shirted.
“If ...Gale ...could harm a flea, then I am High Priest of the Sun Temple!”
“You heard? You like the name?”
He bobbed his bald head up and down. “It fits. Yesterday, I spied her in the high pasture as she watched the sheep — I took a short cut through the forest and she didn't know I was near — and I saw something odd and wonderful.”
“Eh dear brother, did you see? Did our Gale met some secret lover meet her there?”
“No, no lover,” Jacob answered in his slow thoughtful way, missing Meg's sarcasm. “What I saw was ...Gale surrounded by a flock of nightingales.”
“Surrounded? In what way? Had she disturbed their nests?”
“Not at all. They were ...singing to her, I think.”
“Singing to her?”
“Yes,” Jacob said, stroking his gray-bearded chin. “And she was laughing and crying.”
“Singing to her? You are sure?”
“Yup. Dozens and dozens of songbirds, a choir of 'em. Singing. To her.”
6.
“Captain? Can you come with me to Militia headquarters. You must see something.”
Sasha sighed. Must she? She was bone tired, and her leg wound still ached from her attack on the northmen scouting party two weeks ago. Yet if Sheala told her she needed her to come to the Anuvar Militia headquarters, then come she would. The building was starting to become a second home for the Moon Guard; crime was on the rise in the city and her women was stretched thin aiding the militia to keep a lid on the situation. Just what they were keeping a lid on was a mystery. For months, the city had been restless. Uneasy. Waiting ...for something.
“Can it wait until morning, corporal? I'm dead on my feet.”
Sasha's words were true in more ways than one; since Tanya's death, Sasha threw herself into her work, and didn't stop until late into the evening each day. More than that, though, the life seemed to have gone out of her. Nothing brought a smile to her face, and her guard feared there would one day take her own life when her despair overwhelmed her.
Sheala shook her head. “There's another attack on a Moon Temple Priestess, only this time, we heard her call for help; Jules arrived before he could hurt the lass. She pretty much handed him his ass.”
Another attack? Sasha stiffened; her wounds were still too raw. “And why must I see this bastard?”
“Because ...he wore a red gold devil's mask.”
What? Blood pounded in her ears and her throat went dry.
“I would see this man. Now!”
Sheala gave a weary smile and nodded. “I have brought a mount for you.”
Sasha understood now why her blonde corporal wore her riding leathers. She threw hers on, and soon the two galloped away.
The Militia officers held the man detention room, where they questioned him. A militia officer, Captain Lucas, filled Sasha in on all they'd learned.
“His name is Baugla; he was hired to be the Temple stable master a month before Samhain when the old master passed on. He confessed to all, to attacking the priestess and ...to attacking Priestess Aeliana.”
“He could be lying. Perhaps he is twisted in thought, and seeks to continue Orlando's sick work? Do we know if the mask is even Orlando's?”
“You saw the mask of the troubadour the night of Priestess Aeliana death.” Lucas opened a desk drawer, pulled a mask from it and tossed it on his desktop. “You tell me.”
And there it was! The mask that had haunted her since Tanya's death. Every time she closed her eyes she saw it.
“It is Orlando's mask,” Sasha whispered. “But what of the baker's wife? She testified Orlando was not with her that night.”
Lucas nodded. “Your own sergeant -the big woman I would not wish to tangle with in a dark alley- has gone to fetch her.”
Within minutes Jules arrived, leading Elin to where Sasha and Lucas sat.
“You wish to question me?” Elin bit her lower lip. “I ...I told all I knew at the trial last fall, and so I don't know why-”
“-Another attack has occurred,” Captain Lucas told her. “Another priestess, attacked by a man wearing a red mask.”
Elin's hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no!”
“Oh no indeed,” Lucas said. “We would have been looking for him, we could have prevented this second attack, but we believed we had the criminal already. Because you swore, under oath that Orlando wasn't-”
“-Orlando was with me!” Elin blurted. “That night, we spent it in his room.”
“But why, lass, why?” Jules said. “Why did you lie at his trial? When your testimony would prove his innocence?”
“Because my husband is a jealous man, and would have cast me out into the street if he learned I was unfaithful. I couldn't tell the truth, don't you see?”
Elin burst into tears. “I didn't know another woman would be hurt! I swear it! Please! You must believe me.”
“You did know Orlando was innocent, though,” Lucas said, “and yet stood silent as he was sentenced for another's crime. Is this not so?”
Elin fell to her knees. “Mercy, I beg mercy.”
“Sergeant?” Lucas said, “Would you do me a favor and take Mistress Olson to one of our holding cells? I haven't decided what I shall do with her yet.”
“As you wish,” Jules said, and dragged the weeping woman from the room.
“I would see this Baugla. I would ...talk ...to him.”
“Hmm. Yes. In a moment perhaps,” Lucas said. “I am troubled though. You've noticed how crimes are being committed in our city at an alarming rate; more than I've ever seen before.”
Sasha nodded. She did not tell Lucas just how troubling matters were becoming. For she has learned of sobering news from across the island - a drought continued in the northern highlands, threatening the late winter wheat harvest. To the south, a strange sickness has beset Port Town, with a dozen or more falling ill each day. And to the east, the Brothers from the Temple of the Sun have heard rumors of an invasion plan by the north men across the channel.
“My own forces are stretched to the breaking point,” Lucas said. “Truly mystifying. Mistress Olsen's perjury is not an aberration; it is as if all in Anuvar have lost their moral compass.”
Sasha nodded again. She too had found, that no matter how hard her guards worked, day by day they lost ground.
“Even so, I still wish to see this man.”
"I will speak plainly Captain, for I respect you. The city still buzzes from your lone attack on the northmen party. You are rightly a hero, yet, I wonder..."
"Wonder what, Captain Lucas."
"I have watched you these past months..."
"Why Captain," Sasha said, "I didn't know you cared-"
Lucas ignored her sarcasm. "...and ever since the death of Priestess Aeliana, you seem to seek out trouble and violence rather than avoid it."
Sasha's back stiffened. "What is your point?"
"Why do you wish to see prisoner Baugla?" Lucas said. "I have already questioned him, already received a signed confession. So why?"
"As I said, I wish to-"
“-Kill him, yes? As you did Orlando?”
Sasha's head snapped back. “I did not kill Orlando, exactly...”
“What does that mean? I admit, I found the singer to be the most arrogant man I've ever met, but as you now see he was innocent,” Lucas said. “If he is still alive, he should be released from where you have secretly imprisoned him to resume his life.”
An image -a memory- flashed in her mind. Of the red haunted eyes of a young woman. Orlando wept the length of the three day ride to Meg's farm. One would think she cried from their treatment of her, for they had whipped and beaten her until she could not stand.
Funny thing was, she almost seemed to welcome the pain they gave as a distraction.
They taunted her unceasingly: “Sing great Orlando! Great troubadour! Sing us a love song and we will let you go free.”
Far more than her wondrous metamorphosis, it was Orlando's lost music that devastated her most. Sasha could see -literally watch- the horror, playing out in the girl's eyes as she realized her music was gone.
At the time, it gave Sasha far more satisfaction than the physical pain she inflicted. But now?
“I assure you, the troubadour lives yet, but releasing Orlando is no longer possible,” Sasha said, as she stood. “Some things cannot be undone.”
“Rumors have been flying around the city for months about some deep magic worked as punishment on him. Speak truth: what injustice was done to him?”
“Injustice, Captain Lucas?” Sasha's eyes turned steely. “No more so than my Tanya suffered. Nor more so than we shall all experience in the days to come, as we realize the Goddess has abandoned us.”
7. Vernal Equinox
“Ma'am? Would you teach the Goddess to me?”
This was something new; Meg paused kneading the bread dough to consider how to answer, and the girl stepped in to resume the task.
In the months since Miriam had gifted the girl to her -and while she questioned Miriam's motives, she considered her Gale a gift from the Goddess- they had not spoken a whisper of religion.
For Meg, she didn't need to speak of it; her practice was so deep and embedded, it was second nature. She tried to make all she did in her day, from meditating at her solitary altar, to cleaning the chicken coop. an act of devotion to her Lady. When she served in the great Temple, she tried to introduce each novice the her beloved Creatrix in perfect love and perfect trust.
Such easy words -no musty scroll stacks to read through filled with twisting words. Bah! Let the Sun Priests get tangled in their battling dogmas. Perfect love, perfect trust. So easy and yet so hard.
Over the years Meg had seen them all, all the ways young girls approached the Moon Goddess, from the pie-eyed ones wishing to find a great 'Mama' in the sky who will vanish all cares, to the ambitious ones, wishing to become sorceresses mighty in the Goddess craft. Her job was to start them on the right path; a job, she often reminded herself, she failed to do with Miriam.
So she could read them, yes, but Gale was a mystery outside experience; what could she want? Forgiveness for her unknown crime? Peace from what tormented her soul, this hollowness she now spoke of? What?
Meg stopped herself from mentioning the girl must have received remedial Goddess instruction at her Menarche Ritual, for that had most definitely been skipped.
“Why do you wish me to teach you about Her, sweetling?” Meg said, placing the dough in a cabinet to let it rise.
“I want to understand. To know why it happened. Maybe if I knew ...I could ...I could...”
Meg knew the end of the girl's sentence would never come; whatever geas was on her was powerful indeed. But she didn't need to finish it, her silence screamed the words,
Sing! Sing!
“And why do you think this old priestess can help you now?”
“Because I met you when you were Arch-Priestess, and ...I was too...” The girl looked down to the floorboards, “...too stupid ...to ask you then.”
“You knew me?” Meg had not considered this. “But I'd have remembered you, hey? Personal grooming issues aside, I've never seen a beauty such as yours.”
Meg hadn't; the girl's body was petite but well proportioned. Her hair's color looked identical to glossy raven's feathers, and her eyes soft and hazel. The Goddess had been generous indeed.
As girl struggled to speak, Meg realized she was wrestling with her geas, a fight that played across her face. Finally, she spoke:
“I was not ...as I am.”
Meg blinked. Six tiny words, but a mountain of information; the most she had conveyed since she came to the farm.
“Enough! It is time I knew,” Meg said, resolving to do something she had avoided since she left the Temple. She would use her high craft.
“Come sit with me by the hearth, Gale.”
The black haired girl sat cross-legged in front of Meg, her hemp pants drawing up to show smooth calves above her soft leather boots. A crackling fire warmed her back.
"Wait here while I fetch something." Meg said, hobbling to a chest that stood in the far corner of the living room. The lid popped open as Meg unfastened its latch, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Meg rummaged a moment, then stood again, with a tarnished brassy bowl in one hand, and a sanded, thick wooden stick in the other. She walked back to where the girl sat and lowered herself to the floor; her joints popping as she did.
"O but I'm getting too old for this. Now …relax, there is nothing to fear here,” she said, when she saw the worried look on the girl's face. “Just stay still and take deep breaths.”
Meg rubbed the outside rim of the rune-covered bowl, working slow steady circles. Soon, it emitted a bell like hum that grew louder with each circle the elderly woman made. As the hum grew, sound waves washed over the girl, and about her head and body, an aura formed, sparkling, green, then blue, then bright purple.
'Holy Goddess!' Meg's hand faltered at the fiery display, causing the hum and aura to fade. No ordinary magic this, but the energy of the Lady.
Meg had used such high magics once as Arch Priestess: a woman, sick in mind and having murdered her husband and child, came to Meg for help. The woman feared that even if she were locked in prison, she might kill again. She begged Meg to end her life. This Meg could not do, for the worship of the Lady forbade it. Meg did help the wretch - through the Goddess' power, Meg turned her into a doe, and set her free to roam the highlands.
Meg remembered well the brilliant aura that surrounded the woman as she was transformed. It looked like the aura surrounding the girl, only the girl’s was much brighter.
"Poor thing! What’s been done to you? Who are you or ...what were you?”
“I cannot-”
Meg put her finger to the girl's lips. “-Say. I know. Yet whatever has happened to you, poor tormented one, to know more of the Lady can only serve you better. Ask your questions and I will try to answer.”
“I would reach up to the heavens and touch Her. I would call to the Moon and speak with Her. Teach me to do that!”
“Ah! Always,” Meg grunted, shaking her head. “They always reach for the stars first.”
“But isn't she in the stars? The sky?” the girl asked.
“Sure,” Meg said, pushing a black strand of hair away from the girl's face. “But She's here, too, in this room, this moment.”
“Show me! Bring Her to me!”
“But love, it takes patience. For you must learn to open to Her. To sweep away the barriers we place between our souls and the divine takes time, practice-”
The girl gripped Meg's arm. “I must speak with Her! Use your magic to break through my 'barriers' or whatever they are. Do it! I beg you! I am so hollow!”
“Hush now. To do what you ask would take more magic than I, Miriam and all the Sun Temple priests combined possess. What you ask for is a true miracle. I've known of one who came close to doing it-”
“-Then let us find this wise woman or holy man, ma'am.”
“I suspect he no longer has the power. He was young in his career then, unjaded by worldly success, and the Goddess' fire was still in his voice. I heard the troubadour Orlando sing 'The Lai of the Nightingale'...”
Meg remembered, the birds quieting to hear his voice, the winds ceasing, so they could listen, the sunset of that spring evening, stopping a moment to catch the song.
“The story is of no monumental import, two forbidden lovers, meet at night, to gaze on each other from their windows. Yet Orlando's voice threw open the window to his listeners' hearts, so the lovers' longing poured in. And when he sang of the nightingale's sad death at the hands of the cruel husband, all listening -from youngest babe to oldest man- wept. You know the ballad I speak of perhaps?”
“I do,” the girl whispered. “How could I have forgotten?”
“Tanya loved his songs most,” Meg said, growing wistful. “Were the young Orlando to sing the Priestess Aeliana's poems to you, then you might have your wish and know the Goddess.”
Meg shook her head, trying hard to shake away memories. “But Orlando isn't with us, is he?”
“Nor Tanya either,” the girl answered, her eyes again glistening with tears.
“So you are stuck with this old bag of bones to teach the old fashioned way to the Lady. Will that do?”
“Yes, ma'am,” the girl whispered.
“Enough! I care not for what crime you've committed, I will no longer tolerate you calling me ma’am. It’s Meg, if you must be formal, or if you would, I’d be honored if you'd call me grandmother.”
The girl blinked several times, then lunged to wrap her arms around Meg.
“Thank you …grandmother.”
Meg warmed at the sound in that last word. She felt the power embedded in its tone, and how it pierced her heart. The girl's voice held magic for certain. What did the Goddess intend for this one? She shook her head, reminding herself as she always did, that the plans of the Creatrix were not for the keening of mortal minds.
“It is well. Since your ear is over my heart, let us start there. Listen to my heartbeat. It is just you and I in this room. Together. Nothing else matters. Just you and I and the Goddess. Let go and let Her ...in. Listen to my heartbeat...”
III.
1.
“She is performing a ritual in the Temple. Please return tomorrow.”
“Wrong answer, priestess,” Sasha said. “Fetch her now.”
The Captain was dressed her riding leathers, and wore a chain mail shirt. Her tight-braided copper hair hung down her back, and her gleaming broad sword rested on her shoulder.
“Captain!” Naomi answered. “The Arch-Priestess is working a cleansing ritual at this moment. I cannot disturb her, for if she is not successful, the consequences will be grave.”
“I am already dealing with grave consequences. Let me tell you of them, priestess, as my guard from around the island have reported.”
Sasha swung her saber so it clanged against the Temple entrance pillar the priestess stood beside.
“One: A sleeping sickness has beset Port Town, with hundreds falling ill each day, lapsing into comas from which none have awakened.”
“Two.” Another saber clang. “The drought in the highlands that started after Samhain shows no sign of ending. The winter wheat crop is dust and soon livestock die too.”
“Three.” Clang. “To the east, the Brothers from the Sun Temple report a fleet of northmen gather across the channel, in numbers too huge to count.”
Sasha leveled her saber at Naomi. “Panic grips the streets of Anuvar; I've come from the market street, where my women, and the militia guard, suppressed a riot. Because of the drought and shut down of Port Town commerce, food staples of grain and meat are unaffordable to all but the richest, and the people are upset. Apparently they wish to eat. So don't tell me Miriam is unavailable; her Captain would see her now.”
Naomi flinched with each sword clang, and the blood drained from her face as she stared at the tip of Sasha's saber. Yet she had no compromise to offer the fiery captain.
“Please!” Naomi pleaded, hands outstretched in submission. “I understand how terrible all has become. So now I ask you to understand Miriam is doing all she can to hold things together. She cannot see you.”
Sasha did not lower her sword. “Define 'hold things together,' priestess.”
Naomi spoke in a whisper. “The Temple fires burn black.”
Sasha knew what the priestess' words meant - the sacred altar fires of the Moon Temple had turned from golden yellow to black. Which meant -if the ancient prophecy were true, the end time of the island would come. As any child knew, the Goddess gave this land to the people as a showing of her love. But, it was long foretold, if the Altar fires of the High Temple of the Moon burn soot black for seven days, She has deserted them and their doom would follow — plagues, famine, invaders and then the sea itself would rise to swallow them.
“Thrice since Samhain has this happened, but the Arch Priestess had been able to turn the fires from black to gold by working the purification ritual. Yet each time the blackness returned, and each purification proves harder; she barely survived the last, and was bedridden for a week.
“Speak not to me of fairy tales; I have real problems to contend with,” Sasha said. “I must speak with Miriam!”
“I know Meg taught you to respect our traditions, Captain, so why do you doubt?” Naomi asked. “Is it that you do not believe, or choose not to, because you seek death?”
Sasha pressed her saber tip to Naomi's neck. “Watch your words, priestess.”
Naomi gulped but continued. “All speak of it; since Tanya's passing you court death, seeking the most dangerous missions and throwing yourself in harm's way for no good cause. At Imbolic, you alone engaged a party of northmen on the channel coast. You could have let them pass -you had been ordered to- yet you attacked. And slew them all.”
“I do not seek...” Sasha lowered her saber a touch. “...why do you say these things?”
“You have stopped living! You are a deathseeker! It clouds your judgment. For if you were in your right mind, you would know Miriam is fighting the greater problem. Tanya cherished life and would be so saddened to see what you've-”
Sasha's sword rose again. “-Speak not of my love; you haven't the right! Tanya was-”
The words died on Sasha's lips, for the Arch-Priestess walked out of the Moon Temple Altar room.
'Walked,' is a poor description, though, Miriam was supported by a priestess on either side. 'Carried' or 'dragged' more accurately describe the Arch-Priestess’ condition.
Sasha almost dropped her saber in shock; Miriam had aged decades. Her hair -what remained of it- was pure white, and her head looked little more than thin flesh stretched over a skull. The purple robe of her office was covered in soot.
“Couldn't do it, couldn't...” Miriam rasped.
One of the priestesses holding Miriam up finished the Arch-Priestess' sentence. “The fire turned gold again after the ritual, but only a moment. Then it burned pitch black.
“Seven days, Sasha ...We have …no more time,” Miriam whispered. “Meg. She ...could do it ...if anyone can. Ride! Bring her back ...and give her this. I know now, it is -and always has been- hers.”
Miriam tried to remove the silver pendant she wore of the Goddess holding the horns of a crescent moon. The pendant of the Moon Temple Arch-Priestess. When she proved too weak, Sasha stepped forward and lifted it from her.
“Go ...go ...go...” Miriam muttered, as her eyes fogged black.
“We must take her to the healers,” Naomi said. “I fear this is the end. Will your women be able to fetch Meg in time? They are weary already from their riot duty today, I fear.”
Sasha tore her eyes from the pendant she held and stood tall. “We are the Moon Temple Guard. We will not fail.”
2.
“I'm uneasy about this. What if we see her? What shall we say?”
Sunshine still was snorting hard, all their mounts were, for they had ridden hard for two days. They had slowed to a cantor, and would stop to set camp soon. Sasha patted her steed and craned around in her saddle to look at her sergeant.
Jules was married to an Anuvar blacksmith, and the big brown-headed woman looked capable of slinging her husband's heavy anvils about without difficulty. Few things could make Jules' voice quiver with fear, yet Sasha had heard just that in her voice.
“Why worry of her? The end of the world has come, I am told; she is the least of our worries.”
Too late Sasha remembered not only Jules, but several other of her guardswomen were handfasted and had left loved ones in Anuvar under a cloud of doom. And they worried for them. She alone had no one waiting.
“Sorry, Jules, I wasn't thinking. We will return with Meg before the seventh day, I swear it.”
“Aw, think nothin of it, Cap'n. We all know ye ain't been right since your Tanya passed on.”
And that pretty much summed it up, Sasha thought. She wanted to be angry at the big woman's words, but she couldn't; she hadn't 'been right' since Tanya died, and doubted she ever would be again.
What we did to Orlando was wrong,” Jules said, picking up her earlier thread. “I hurt her bad, and Lady forgive me, I liked it. I kept seeing poor Tanya's face that night, and it made me beat her harder. Now, since knowin Orlando is innocent, all I see is her face, bruised and bleeding, her eyes, lost and scared, and...”
Sasha wasn't sure what else the big woman said, for her words trailed off, but she thought she heard weeping.
Sasha was almost jealous of her sergeant. She wished she could feel remorse, guilt or anything, but she couldn't; she had gone numb. At first, her hate for Orlando at least gave her fire in her belly, for it was so easy to despise his arrogant face. And when he was changed, and she realized her songs were gone, ahhh! the horror in Orlando's eyes was a salve to Sasha's bloodied soul.
Then that satisfaction was taken away, too, when she learned the man Baugla was the guilty one. And he provided no satisfaction; the coward hung himself in his cell rather than face punishment.
Sasha was shaken from her musings by the hoof beats of her trackers Ona and Sheala.
“Ho! Captain, we have followers,” the lithe blonde Ona said.
Sasha hand went to her saber. “Where?”
“They parallel us, a hundred yards or so away,” Sheala said, pointing her sword to the dense trees to the left.
“How many?” Sasha asked, peering into the shadowy trees.
“At least thirty men. Local bandits, we reckon. But they are poorly armed and disorganized. ”
Sasha wasn't sure which of her identical twin trackers spoke; in the fading light it was even harder to tell them apart.
“Let us ride ahead of them and ambush!” Sasha said, stretching her sword arm and popping her neck. “They will not expect that.”
“Can we risk it, Cap'n?” Jules said. “And we must bring the new Arch-Priestess to the Temple in four days’ time. Our loved ones are depending on us.”
Jules is right, dammit, Sasha thought. Maybe I do have a death wish.
“Very well. Once darkness settles, we will change course and lose them,” Sasha said. “We must mark this location, for they may present a problem on the return trip.”
“Aye Cap'n,” Jules said with a Goddess salute.
“And ladies? We cannot risk a fire,” Sasha said, “So there will be no hot bubble baths tonight.”
“Like that ever happens,” Jules chuckled.
3.
“Why do you sit there? You are Arch-Priestess! Move! Pack!”
Meg was not, as the Captain of the Moon Guard was suggesting, frozen with fear. Oh, she had a right to be; she had learned so so much in one sitting:
Plagues, droughts and invaders threatened the island.
The Temple smoke burned black.
And ...the girl living with her these last months was none other than Orlando, who in a ritual that profaned the Goddess Altar, had transformed him into her, and ripped the music from the poor troubadour's soul. A worse rape Meg couldn't imagine.
Such tidings would paralyze an Arch-Priestess in the prime of her powers, and Meg's prime was well astern in her life.
Yet she was not just any Arch-Priestess, she was Meg, who’s trust in the Goddess was absolute. And who takes matters one step at a time.
Meg rose, walked to the kitchen, and stoked the stove with kindling. Then she ladled water from the well barrel into a kettle and set it on a burner.
“Arch-Priestess,” Sasha growled. “What are you doing?”
“Brewing tea. Would you like some?” Meg asked. “Gale ...I mean Orlando ...made rolls last night that would be yummy with it. Let me just find the gooseberry jam we-”
“-Are you insane?” Sasha shrieked. “we don't have time for this.”
“You forget yourself, Captain!” A spoon was suddenly in Meg's hand; she shook it at the young warrior. “I am so sorry to hear of Tanya's death. You must be devastated. But you will not disrespect me!”
It did not matter Sasha had faced combat, and death countless times, the Arch-Priestess had always been able to make her feel like a petulant girl — as she did now, with only a spoon in her hand.
“Sorry, ma'am.”
“And did you ever think we might need to think a few things through before we fly back to Anuvar?”
Sasha scrunched her forehead. “Like what?”
“When did the troubles in the land begin? And when did the altar fires first darken?” Meg asked, still shaking her spoon. “I need to know the exact date.”
“After Samhain. After Tanya was...” Sasha's words suddenly wouldn't come out.
“...And after Orlando was transformed?” Meg asked. “How soon after?”
Sasha remembered returning to Anuvar after they dragged the girl here, and first learning of the sleeping sickness in Port Town. And hadn't Naomi said the Altar fires first blackened after Samhain too?
“Immediately, Arch-Priestess.”
“And did you also not tell me when Orlando was changed, the Goddess spoke to Miriam? Telling her to send Orlando here?”
“Yes. I did think it strange,” Sasha said. “What does it mean?”
“It means it would be unfortunate to rush from our farm without her, to find out too late we needed her to help us in the Temple.”
The door flew open and the petite girl came running in. “Grandmother! There are Moon Temple Guards here! The ones that-”
She stopped speaking when she saw Sasha standing in the farmhouse living room. The girl backed into a corner and whispered,
“You!”
Sasha stared at her, for she could not help but find her to be pretty. No, with her glossy black hair and hazel-doe eyes, she was stunning.
What am I thinking? This one is not who she seems.
Sasha shook her head. She was sure that even with her transformation, the vain arrogant Orlando lived on inside.
“The great troubadour remembers me? I am filled with gratitude and honor.” Sasha's bow was obnoxious and over the top. “If we are finished with our delightful reunion, we must go, for chaos reigns in Anuvar. Pack what clothes you need -both of you- for we leave as soon as the horses are rested.”
“Grandmother! Please don't make me go!” the girl ran to Meg and clutched her. “They... hurt me ...and they'll do it again! They hate me.”
The girl shook with fright, and Meg remembered the condition she was in when delivered; barely alive. Why hadn't Sasha begged forgiveness?
And, come to think of it, Sasha hadn't called her Meg -or grandmother- once. Why? Had her heart turned to stone? Yet another item to add to the list of tragedies.
“They will not harm you, Orlando-”
“-My name,” the girl gasped, for she could not speak it herself.
“Aye, I know who you were, and I also know you are innocent of any crime. I wish I’d known some of this when you were sent to me, so I could have helped you through …O Goddess …so many difficulties.”
Meg stroked the girl's hair. Then her eyes flashed and she leveled them at Sasha.
“But they will not harm you. Correct, Captain Catoriel?”
“Of course, Arch-Priestess.” Sasha bowed again. "Neither I, nor my women, shall harm her in any way. Beyond that, I promise nothing.”
4.
In an eye's blink, all changes.
For now instead of tending to the solitary business of Jacob’s farm, she sat driving a wagon eastward to the Temple of the Moon, and possibly the island's ending.
Let go, Meg and let the Goddess in, Meg thought. Then she said aloud, “Thy will, Lady, Thy will,”
Accompanying her -and surrounding the wagon- were elite warrior women, resplendent in purple riding cloaks, bright chain mail, dark leather pants and boots, and hair fixed into a single braid down their backs. The Moon Temple Guard: Sasha, Jules, the uncanny twins, Ona and Sheala, and the others.
She knew it must frustrate the warriors to travel at a wagon's pace when the world hung in the balance. The new Arch-Priestess was in her seventieth year of life, though, and there are certain things you give up with age, like riding a saddled mount.
Meg cast a glance to the final character in this adventure. The doe-eyed lass sitting beside her. The transformed one. She whose music had been stolen. She to whom birds flocked, lighting on her shoulder to chirp and whistle.
It was the kind of wondrous tale the great troubadour Orlando would have sung about in a ballad, except, the girl was Orlando, or had been.
She begged to be left behind, pleaded to stay with Jacob; Meg though gentle, insisted she come. She couldn't imagine the thoughts swirling in the girl's head.
“What are you thinking, lass?”
Orlando jumped at the sound of Meg's voice. The poor thing is riddled with fear, Meg thought. If she were a bird -a nightingale- she would have flown away.
The girl looked right and left before she whispered, “They despise me. On the journey to your farm, they treated me as something less-than-human. As a ...a freak...”
Meg's eyebrow rose. Is this how Orlando now thinks of herself? But then, how else would she? Her change in the Temple was instant and brutal. Then she was cast into the hands of those who pleasured in abusing her. How would anyone react to that?
“Orlando, you may be many things -and we shall soon see what- but a 'freak' is not one of them. You are beautiful.”
It was so; even wearing one of Jacob's old tunics and rough hemp pants could not disguise the lithe figure beneath, and her face grew more radiant with each passing day. She was Goddess touched for certain.
“Beautiful?” The girl touched a hand to her cheek.
Meg watched, fascinated at the thoughts playing on the ex-male’s face. While it was true she lived for months in her new body and was well used to it, Meg saw this thought never occurred to her. That she might have become the very thing she often hunted as a man.
“Beautiful?”
The girl shook her head. “If true, then why can't they bear to look at me? When I look at them, they turn away.”
“Can't you see? They are ashamed of what they did,” Meg said.
The girl was silent a moment, then motioned to the figure in front of their troop. She who sat tall atop the mighty steed Sunshine. Sasha's copper braids glowed lustrous in the evening light. The rays of the setting sun sparkled on her golden chain mail shirt and polished shield fastened to her saddle.
“She is not ashamed. She feels nothing at all. When I was... was…”
It took Meg a moment to realize Orlando was struggling with her geas; still unable to speak her name. Meg wanted to remove it, but thought it best to undo the Goddess magic in the place it was cast on the girl.
“...before this happened ...” the girl growled, “I heard the captain's voice, and it called to my soul, so strongly, I had to kiss her. But now? I hear nothing but granite when she speaks. What could make her so?”
Meg blinked at the girl before she answered. “Don't be dense, gel, you, more than anyone, know what happened.”
“She lost Priestess Aeliana, yes, but shouldn't she be over that by now?”
Meg drew away from the girl. “You've never lost someone you loved?”
“No ...not really.”
A thought occurred to Meg. “In fact, you've never loved anyone, have you?”
“There were plenty of young maids I fancied and-”
“-Truth, Orlando, speak truth,” Meg said, and there was Goddess power in her words.
“There was one, once, when I first started singing as a troubadour, one whose love filled my being. But I ...was afraid to commit myself ...and ran away-”
“-And so you've never given your heart to another. Trusted your soul to another. All those love songs you sang; hundreds, and you never knew true love at all!”
Meg clucked in disgust. “No wonder you can't understand Sasha's hurt; you are a fraud!”
The girl's reply came soft:
“Yes. I am. I never sang for joy. For love. Only for coin. And now, when I would sing just to sing, I cannot and never will again.”
Minutes passed before they spoke again, the sounds they heard were the clop of horse hoofs on the forest path. The creak of the wagon, and the ever present birdsong that filled the air when the girl was near.
“There is a small book in my pack, Orlando. It has 'to Meg, the true Arch-Priestess' inscribed inside the cover. Fetch it.”
The girl dug around a while in Meg's rucksack before finding the book. When she tried to hand it to the elderly woman, Meg shook her head.
“It's for you to read. It is filled with the poems of the Moon Temple's Poet Laureate, Priestess Aeliana.”
The girl stared at the worn book. “Tanya's writing?”
“Indeed. She gave me it the day I left to live with Jacob, after Miriam stole my position. Read it, and see for yourself why Sasha's heart has turned to stone at the loss of her mate.”
The girl nodded, and began paging through. After some moments, she took a sharp breath.
“What is it?” Meg said.
“This ...this...”
“Don’t stammer, girl, read.”
“Do not leave me alone, a helpless woman.
My strength, my crown,
I am empty of virtues,
You, the ocean of them.
My heart's music, you help me.”
The girl's voice infused Tanya's words with power, and Meg found her eyes had teared.
Sharp cries of “no no!” broke the spell.
“Orlando? What is it?”
“These words ...they cry out to be sung! And I can't because my music is gone!”
A fit came on her; she fell to the wagon floor, writhing, pulling her hair, and screaming,
“Gone gone! Cruel Goddess! Why did you curse me so!”
Meg was quick to speak the words of a sleep spell and when she touched her forehead, Orlando lapsed into charmed slumber.
Meg stroked the girl's cheek and shook her head.
Of all Tanya's poems, she found that one first, the old priestess thought, it was as if Tanya penned the words for Orlando alone.
“What is your purpose with this one, Lady? What game do you play?”
5.
“Wake up, lass, I smell a stew cooking!”
Meg waited until the day's ride ended to rouse Orlando. The sun had long fled the day, and the Moon Temple Guard set up camp with speedy efficiency. Horses unsaddled, brushed and set loose to pasture, tents raised, and a fire crackling; when Ona and Sheala reported finding no threats, Sasha allowed the fire.
Scents of fresh herbs, spring green onions, mushrooms, parsnips and rabbit, gathered by the twin trackers, filled the night air. Meg touched her index and middle fingers to the girl’s forehead.
“Orlando! If you don’t hurry it will all be eaten.”
“Yes ma’am,” She yawned, first stretching her arms above her head and then pulling her dark curly hair from out of her face.
The girl sat up, surprised by the darkness.
“You slept for some time, child. Come, let us put food in our bellies.” Meg paused. “I'm sorry; I gave you Tanya's writings as a comfort, and not to give you more distress. Let me have the book back, child.”
The girl realized she still clutched the small book in her hands. “No. Please. I've never seen lyrics like these.”
“They are called poems, not lyrics.”
“No ma'am, Tanya's words must be sung.”
“At least leave it for now, lass, and come. For I was not joking; they will hog the stew!”
The talk around the cook fire was somber that evening, as it had been every night of their ride. They spoke in hushed tones of the ancient prophecy that might be coming true, and their yearning to be with family and loved ones rather than on the trail. Though they were Moon Temple Guards and would do their duty, they were human too, and filled with worry.
The chatter died when Meg and Orlando walked to the cook fire. Meg let the awkward silence stand long enough for the girl to receive a generous helping of the pungent stew. Once she made sure the lass had eaten, Meg spoke.
“I want to introduce someone to you.”
All chewing stopped and eyes focused on the gray-haired and gray-eyed woman.
“This is Orlando; though you knew her by another face, once. You know her well, for you wronged her. Sisters, we are ever reminded by our Goddess to live in humility. To do otherwise is to build walls between our souls and Her presence.”
Meg stood from the log stump she was seated, her voice ringing strong and clear in the starry night.
“I know not what this journey brings. If it is the will of the Lady that we die, then we die. I tell you, though our land is beset with peril to north and south and east, and though black smoke pours from the altar fires of our Temple, our test of spirit is now and here. Who among you is brave enough to ask forgiveness?”
Silence was the Arch-Priestess' answer.
“But this is the vaunted Moon Temple Guard, and she is but a tiny thing,” Meg motioned to the figure beside her; the girl clutched her knees to her chest and stared at the flickering flames. “Is there not one?”
After a deafening silence, Jules rose and walked to Orlando.
“I was wrong, lass, to treat you as I did. Even had you been guilty, what we did made us no better. But you were innocent, and O how we abused you...”
The big woman fell to the ground before the wide-eyed girl, touching her head to the ground. “Please forgive…”
Orlando’s hazel eyes glistened in the fire light. The sorrow in the big woman's voice resonated in her. She wasn't sure what to say, and after a moment, reached out and stroked the big woman’s ruddy face.
Ona and Sheala next asked forgiveness. On the trip to Jacob's farm they set on the girl with their bullwhips. Standing on either side, first Ona would strike, and when the girl tried to run in the opposite direction, Sheala's whip would bite her flesh.
“We were cruel to you, feasting on your pain and fear,” Ona said, bowing low. “We are forever sorry.”
“Though we know you can never forgive us,” her sister said, “know this, in harming you as we did, we have brought dishonor and shame to our order. After this mission, my sister and I will resign from the Moon Temple Guard; we are not worthy.”
“I ...no ...please! Don't quit,” Orlando said. “I can tell you were Goddess called to this vocation; it is your passion. Never lose it! For I have learned if you do, your life will be empty.”
Sasha stood from her seat at the fire and crossed her arms. “As poignant as this scene is, we’ve had a long day’s ride, with two more before us. So I ask …no, I order all of you, to sleep.”
“Don't you have something to say to the gel, Sasha?” Meg said.
“Are you asking that I, too, beg forgiveness? Folly! Will that make the Temple fires burn gold again? Saying I’m sorry? Will that bring my beloved back?” Sasha demanded.
“Or answer me this, troubadour,” Sasha said to Orlando. “Did my guards' touching repentance to you give you back your body? Your name? Your song?”
“No!” the girl's eyes flashed. “I am how you wished me — helpless, nameless and without voice.”
“Exactly,” Sasha answered. “Such sentiments are a useless waste of breath!”
“And so the answer is what?” The girl walked to where Sasha stood by the fire and looked into her eyes. “Seek vengeance? Did doing this to me give you peace for Tanya's death?”
Sasha's back stiffened. “Don't you dare speak her name, you-”
“-Haven't the right? After what you did to me, I most certainly do. Did destroying my life give you peace for her death? I hope so. I hope after you took everything from me, after you unmade my body into this,” the girl motioned to herself, “and shredded the music from my soul, you at least got peace. Did you? Tell me!”
The fiery redhead glared at Orlando, and then, without answering, walked across the camp to where she left her saddlebags, pulled a woolen blanket from a side pouch, and lay on soft ground beneath a cottonwood tree.
And far away in the forest dark, a nightingale started to sing.
6.
Perhaps it was the sudden thunder storm which swept in from the west that explained it. The constant thunder would have drowned out the rustle of the men sneaking to their camp. And the gail-force winds could have blown the bandits' scent far away.
Or perhaps it was because the expert trackers Ona and Sheala must eventually sleep, and the men attacked when another Guardswoman stood watch.
Or maybe it was just bad luck.
Whatever the cause, the outlaws caught the Moon Temple Guard unaware. A snap of a twig underfoot jolted Sasha awake. She was on her feet with saber drawn in an instant.
“Women arise! We are attacked! Form a ring around the Arch-Priestess.”
The charge of men did not materialize. It is one thing to attack a camp of slumbering travelers. Quite another proposition to face armed -and pissed- Moon Temple Guard, even if they did outnumber them. A silent standoff ensued; the men muttered and cursed, and the Guardswomen unlimbered swords and bow and whips.
They were a motley crew, these thirty odd men; unskilled, unfed and unled. Hard times in Anuvar forced them to commit crimes, and once caught, the Militia banished them from the city. They were not looking to pick a fight with trained soldiers.
What they wanted was the easy strike - to waylay travelers and demand a 'toll' to pass; typically the toll equaled the number of coins the travelers carried. Better still, they looked for prime 'woman flesh', for though all other commodities may be worthless, there was always a market with the northmen raiders for pretty girls.
A scream of 'stay back' came from the nearby forest. Meg hobbled to Sasha. “Orlando! She's out there! She went to relieve herself when she rose and-”
Sasha didn't wait for more; she raced to where Sunshine stood ready. “Sergeant! Hitch the horses to Meg's wagon and take her away from here! Protect her with your life. Ona! Sheala! Persuade our guests to leave; you know what to do.”
The twins started cracking their whips over head in a rapid staccato as they walked to the men. Who stumbled backwards to escape the vicious stings.
“Where will we meet, you, Cap'n?” Jules said, as she and the other guards heaved gear into the wagon.
“Rendezvous checkpoint 7.” Sasha said, as she mounted Sunshine bareback. “If we are not there tonight, go on without us.”
“But Cap'n, we should-”
“-It was an order, Jules, do not wait for us! Meg must reach the Temple before the seventh day, or we all may be dead.”
A second scream ended the discussion. Sasha nudged Sunshine's flanks and he sprang into a gallop.
Sasha and Sunshine followed the screams and came on a group of men in a forest clearing. Some of the outlaws pinned the girl to the ground, while others tore away at her clothes. Sasha drove her war horse into them, sending them sprawling. She leaned low with arm outstretched and in one swift move swung the girl up and behind her on Sunshine. The girl grasped hard around Sasha's waist, and the captain felt the heaves of the girl's chest; she breathed rabbit fast. One man grabbed Sasha’s leg and held fast, until, with a sharp crack of metal on bone, Sasha brought the pummel of her saber down on his head.
“She's the toll, ya see.”
Sasha turned to face the speaker, a squat man, with wiry red hair and oily eyes.
“Giver her to us and you go free.”
The remaining would be rapists grabbed what weapons they could. Some held daggers, others grabbed rocks.
I could kill them all.
She could; she had attacked the scouting party of northmen -trained warriors- and survived. These thugs? There was no chance they would even scratch her. And didn't they deserve it? She wasn't there for Tanya, but she had reached Orlando in time. Maybe.
It would feel good.
Would it? Would it bring Tanya back? And Orlando, the one she 'saved'; it was Sasha who put her in this position, wished the arrogant singer be struck down and made helpless. A wish the Goddess granted, for the look on the girl's face as Sasha pulled her onto Sunshine, was purest terror.
Tanya's dying words echoed in her mind.
Don't let hate consume you, love.
But she had; hate had eaten her since Samhain.
No! No. More.
She leaned to whisper in Sunshine's ear.
“The wind brags to me she is faster than you. Prove her wrong! Fly Sunshine! Catch the wind!”
Sunshine reared in reply, and in a blur, they were gone.
7.
If Sasha's great mount didn't catch the wind, it was not for want of trying. When Sunshine slowed, they were far from the outlaws.
“Orlando? Are you hurt?”
“Not too bad.”
That didn't sound good to Sasha. “Did they, um...” Sasha wasn't sure how far the men had gotten in their assault.
“Not too bad.”
Sasha nudged Sunshine's flank -her bareback signal to him to stop- and he halted by a stream. When she swung down, she saw the girl had wrapped around her waist with one arm, and held something clutched in her free hand; a small book. Somehow, the girl had clutched it even as she was attacked. She would ask her about it in a moment; now she needed to see to Orlando. The girl sounded like she was in shock.
After Sasha helped her down from Sunshine, she surveyed the damage. Shirt and pants ripped but intact. Scratches, and a bruise or two, but nothing bleeding. Sasha mustered the courage to ask the key question:
“Did they enter you?”
“No. No!” Orlando shuddered. You saved me before that, thank the Lady.”
“You are wise to thank Her, for I am unworthy of it. Never forget it was I who wished your condition on you; this would not have happened but for me.”
“Don't speak so!” Orlando said, grabbing Sasha’s hands. “You could have left me but you came. I did not want to die that way. And -dammit!- if I want to, I ought to be able to give you my thanks! So, thank you, Captain.”
“Stop saying those words! I am not some shining hero. Even now, even after all the suffering I have caused you, I would kill you in an instant if it would bring Tanya back.”
Sasha put her hand under Orlando's chin and raised her face.
“What do you think of your hero now?”
“If it would bring Priestess Aeliana back, I would beg you to do it.”
Was she joking, Sasha wondered? Was this the old arrogant Orlando, trying to gain some petty satisfaction by taunting her?
But her eyes, her beautiful eyes, Sasha thought, are clear and true.
“You cannot expect me to believe you would offer your life to me? The one who wished you as you are? Who stole your song voice?”
Those words opened a wound, and Orlando sobbed, “O, Captain, of all your wrongs, it is the taking of my music that I cannot forgive.”
“Only that? Now I know you lie. For you cannot be saying you like being the helpless -and dazzling, Sasha added in her mind- girl you've been transformed into. That the great Orlando is untroubled by the loss of fame. I don't believe it.”
“Believe or no; it matters not to me. You have no idea how I struggled -am struggling still- with my new body. But I've learned food still tastes like food and air is still air. And, yes, to be stripped of my birth name is terrifying. Even now I can't say Or ...Orl...”
She clenched her fists and teeth, “say my old name. There are other names. Meg called me Gale, which I can say and I …like the sound of it. But my music? Why, Captain, why did you take that?”
“I thought you killed my lover, and took from me she whom I treasured in life above all other things. And so I wanted to take your most precious treasure.”
Looking into those wet hazel eyes, Sasha knew she succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. Yet now, she wanted to take the young woman in her arms to hold, to sooth, to say, don't cry love, your songs will return.
But she couldn't do that because she loved Tanya, and not this one, didn't she?
Sasha stepped back a space. “I'm curious; tell me about the book you hold.”
Orlando's eyes brightened. “This book is why I would trade places in death with Priestess Aeliana. This book is filled with the most wondrous lyrics ...er, poems ...I've ever read, and-”
Sasha snatched it from Orlando's hand. “These are her poems! Where did you get this?”
“Meg gave it to me to read because she thought I-”
“-You profane her work!”
“No! I would have before my change, but now, I would honor her! Her words need to be sung to the people so-”
“-Enough! Speak no more. Sunshine is rested, so we ride to meet the others and see how they fare.”
Soon they galloped again through the forest, once Sasha found her bearings. Neither spoke until the noon hour passed; it was Orlando who broke the silence.
“Captain? No matter what I do, or who I am, I disgust you. I'm sorry you must endure my presence.”
Hard-hearted Sasha! Tanya's voice whispered. After all she's suffered, cannot you offer Orlando at least some small tenderness?
Sasha halted Sunshine, and turned back to look at the girl. “It is I who should be ...I'm the one who needs to ...”
Sasha could no more say the words 'I'm sorry' than Orlando could say her old name. But still she should do something. She nudged Sunshine into a cantor. As they traveled, Sasha tried other words.
“The answer is no.”
“Hmm?”
“Last night you asked me a question,” Sasha said. “No. Destroying your life did not bring me peace. Nor does battle nor ...killing. Nothing does.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Came Orlando’s sad gentle answer from behind her.
I am so stupid! the warrior thought. In trying to offer conversation, I’ve had made her sadder. Try again.
Sasha nudged Sunshine to a halt once more. She turned to face the girl.
“Orlando, you are welcome.”
“Welcome?” Orlando was confused.
“For saving you. You said you had the right to thank me, and you were right. So, You’re welcome.”
Orlando chuckled. “I’m trying to think if there are any other unfinished conversations that we’ve had in the past for you to complete. The only other time we talked, I think I was screaming aaaoooowww. I don’t think you need to answer that one, Captain.”
Sasha recognized Orlando was trying to make their talk light, but she had an impulse to do something else; she stroked the girl's soft cheek.
“Stop calling me Captain. I'm Sasha, if you wish.”
“S-a-s-h-a.”
Orlando spoke the word as a caress, and Sasha's body shuddered to hear it.
8.
“Next time, you hold it in, at least until someone can come with you to guard you. You hear me, gel?”
Meg's words sounded harsh, but the ancient priestess smothered Orlando against her bosom.
“Yes, grandmother.”
Sasha and Orlando met with the troop at the rendezvous point near dusk; the two arrived as the Moon Temple Guard pitched camp. Meg, and all the Guard, were safe.
“I could have lost you,” Meg murmured, kissing the top of Orlando's head. “You are unharmed, lass?”
Orlando nodded. “Sasha saved me before they did; she is amazing!”
“None is her equal, male or female. How many?” Meg asked.
“How many what?”
“Kills,” Meg answered, with worry heavy on her face. “How many did she kill when she rescued you?”
Orlando's brow crinkled. “Um, none, though she could have easily killed them all.”
“None?” Some of the worry wrinkles smoothed on Meg's face, and she gazed across the campsite to where Sasha brushed Sunshine. “That is the best news I have heard this journey. Now go to Jules for your ration of dinner. It's a cold camp tonight -we can't risk a fire to give away our location- so it's dried fruit and hardtack tonight. You go on; I need to read more of my Temple scrolls while there's light.”
“Do you think you can do it?” Orlando asked, “purify the Temple?”
Since their trip's beginning yesterday -just yesterday? The peace of the farm seemed years past- Meg poured over her personal collection of Moon Temple ritual lore to scrounge a solution to their island's crisis.
It is foretold, her scrolls told her, if the Altar fires of the High Temple of the Moon burn black for seven days, the Lady has deserted them and four plagues are doomed to fall on Anuvar: sickness, famine, violence and water - the sea would rise to swallow them.
Which made no sense to Meg, for she knew the Goddess would never desert Her people. If anything, they had left Her.
Purification wasn't the answer, Meg felt, for the ritual was so simple, she figured even Miriam couldn't have screwed that up. No, something was needed to rouse the people's hearts and bring them back to Her. But as to what that might be, her scrolls were maddeningly vague.
“Grandmother?”
Meg blinked. She had fallen deep into thought, and Orlando's voice blew threw her as a fresh wind. Such power her soft voice held!
Orlando. The transformed one. The silent troubadour.
How much of this cataclysm centered on her? For Meg was certain the Temple fires started to fail the instant Miriam misused her Goddess craft on Orlando. Yet the Goddess allowed it. Why?
Is Orlando the key?
“Are you scared child, that our end may be coming?”
Orlando shook her head. “I thought the pain of losing my music would lessen as time went by, but it hasn't; day by day it grows worse. I long to die.”
Meg couldn't reconcile the despair she heard from Orlando with the beauty who spoke them.
“Go on, girl, eat some dinner, such as it is.”
The hardtack wasn’t the worst thing, Orlando had eaten, but she wondered if the energy used to chew the biscuits wasn't more than the energy gained from digesting them.
The talk was subdued among the Guardswomen. Not for of any lingering awkwardness between them, that fled last night. Instead they spoke of the impending doom and fear for their loved ones: Jules for her blacksmith husband, the twins for their aging mother, the other guards for siblings, friends and lovers. Sasha, though sitting with her fellow warriors this evening, spoke not a word, but would, on occasion, stare at Orlando, as if she were trying to work out a puzzle.
It surprised Orlando how easily she forgave them. But, listening to their earnest talk, she knew they were good people who had done something wrong. She even understood the why of it, too, for, having read some of Tanya's work, she knew what a treasure the priestess was to them.
Though Beltane was days away, a chill wind blew on their encampment, made all the more cold by their lack of a cheery fire to gather round.
Jules, never one to let a mood stay sour long, changed the subject. “If ye don't mind lass, I've an itch to ask you a question. What's it like, goin from be'in a man to a wee lass? What's the biggest difference?”
Biggest difference? Orlando paused. What was it? “I’m ...so much smaller? I guess that would be it, maybe.”
“Ya, sure,” Jules said, “but what about your looks. I'd kill for a face like yours, instead of the horse head I've been gifted with.”
“I haven't really seen my face,” Orlando answered, touching a hand to her cheek.
“Are you serious?” Sheala asked. “Your change was months ago. Surely you looked in a mirror.”
The dark-headed girl shook her head. “Jacob had a scratched old silver plate hung over the wash bowl that kinda showed me my new face, but-”
“-You don't know?” Ona said. “Honey, you're a looker. Men will drool when they see you.”
Orlando hadn't considered this, and her mouth flopped open when she did. Which made the women chuckle.
“But what of your periods?” Sheala said. “Have you had the pleasure of those?”
The women roared with laughter at Orlando's sour confirmation look.
“Welcome to the club, darlin',” Jules said. “ Unlike our male comrades, Mother Nature grabs us by our guts once a month and shouts 'remember me?' I'd love to tell you they get better, but I try not to lie to my friends.”
“It's time to turn in ladies,” Sasha said, breaking her silence. “Tomorrow we ride into Anuvar, and who knows what chaos. So get some rest; we'll need to be at our best.”
With a murmur of assent, the women gathered their blankets and left to find soft patches of spring grass to bed on. Jules, Ona and Sheala lingered with Orlando.
“We want to ...to thank ye lass, for ...” the big woman stumbled with her words; she was far more comfortable cracking heads than speaking from her heart. “For being so good-natured with us, when you've every reason to still hate us. But if you ain't inclined to hate us, we'd love to count ye as our friend.”
Ona and Sheala seconded Jules' request.
They are good people, Orlando thought, good folk who lost their way and are trying to find it again. Like I should be doing.
“I would be honored.”
9.
Sasha tossed and turned in her sleep, and woke in the heart of night. She listened to the quiet sounds, of crickets nearby, an owl hooting far away, and heard movement from across the camp.
Worrying of another attack, the captain jumped up without a sound, and crept through the dark to the figure huddled near Meg's wagon. It was Orlando.
“Why are you awake?” Sasha whispered.
“I'm freezing.”
“Mmm. When the Guard is bivouacking in the winter, we often pair up to keep warmer at night. Perhaps you could sleep next to Meg and get warm.”
“I …no …uh...”
“Oh? Is the great Orlando too proud to lay next to an old woman?” Sasha could not keep the contempt out of her voice.
“The great Or- Or- ...I have no pride left.” The girl said in a halting voice. “You still hate me, don't you.”
Something in Orlando's tender voice sounded deep into Sasha.
“I ...I detested you ...more than anything in the world. Your cocky arrogance was so easy to despise. Your image became the lightening rod of my hate.”
She paused, realizing how incongruous it was to say those words to the dark feminine creature before her.
“I…I guess your reluctance to sleep next to Meg stirred those feelings in me. Why wouldn’t you lie next to the gentle woman unless it is because you are too proud?”
“Meg snores something fierce.”
“That’s true,” Sasha laughed. “She's as legendary for her snoring as she is for her standing with the Goddess! I hear her sawing logs at even this distance.”
Once again, I am wrong about her, Sasha thought. I am an idiot!
“Perhaps ...you could lie with me for the rest of the night? There’s no love lost between us …I can imagine the horrible things you wish on me ...but I could at least warm you.”
The girl stared at Sasha with a puzzled expression. Then, looking at the ground, she said, “yes, please.”
Soon the two were close and covered by Sasha’s woolen blanket. The girl faced away, her small body tucked against Sasha's. She felt the girl's shivering lessen, her muscles relaxing with the warmth.
"Sasha?” the soft voice asked.
"Hm, Orlando?”
"I'm so sorry.”
"Again with the sorry?" Sasha was confused. “What are you sorry about this time?”
"Tanya.”
"But ...you've nothing to be sorry for there; you had nothing to do with her death.”
"You are so...empty.”
“Yes, I ...find myself at night ...wishing to join my lover in death. I'm hollow ...and it’s so hard to make myself go on. My women need me and so I continue, but ...”
Sasha felt gentle hands take her own and squeeze them.
"This makes no sense! Why do you care? You should hate me.”
"I'm empty too. I hurt too. I know...”
What was she saying? That she did not hate her even after all Sasha had done to her? That she could care about Sasha because she felt loss too? But what life’s love did she lose?
Sasha felt stupid the moment the thought entered her head, for the girl had already told her. “Your music.”
"Gone. Gone."
Orlando shivered again in Sasha's arms. "Kill us both. Or, if you cannot leave your women, help me end my pain at least. You owe me.”
Sasha understood; they were bonded in their pain. She hugged the girl tighter, whispering the words that came flooding out at last:
“I’m so sorry ...forgive me, Orlando ...I'm so sorry... forgive...”
The girl's shivering stopped and after a time, her breathing grew rhythmic — perhaps she was falling asleep at last? Yet the way the girl lay in her arms was how Tanya did when they slept, and for the first time since her lover's death, Sasha wanted to talk.
“Why did you do it?”
“Hmm?”
“Tanya wanted to know why you chose the path you did. She said when your career began, your voice moved even the most stone-hearted to tears, but it changed when you started singing-”
“-fluffy love ballads, bawdy drinking songs and crap...”
“Yes. Why?”
Orlando was silent for so long, Sasha feared the girl either refused to answer or had fallen asleep. When she did speak, the tone she used sounded like disgust to Sasha.
“Meg was right to call me a fraud. When I first started singing, I would lose some of myself in the music, and I felt ...I touched ...a vast presence-”
“-the Goddess?” Sasha asked. She felt the girl’s head nod against her chest.
“Meg's been teaching me about Her, and I think it was. At the time, all I knew was it was loving and overwhelming. Each time I sang certain songs and touched Her, I felt the tiny drop of me, slipping away into the sparkling ocean of Her. It scared me so much, I stopped singing those songs.”
Orlando's small body started quivering again. At first Sasha thought the chill had returned, but she soon realized Orlando was crying.
“Sweetie? What is it?”
“I'm a coward. If I hadn't fled from my calling, maybe over the years I would have inspired our people to seek the Goddess rather than wenching and drinking. And then maybe the sickness that afflicted the monster who killed Tanya wouldn't have happened and then she-”
Sasha flipped Orlando onto her back and pushed her finger onto the girl's lips.
“Oh no! You are not allowed that 'maybe;' it is mine. For if the 'heroic' Captain of the Moon Guard had been with her lover that night, instead of in her bed, Tanya would be alive this day. I failed her.”
Orlando blinked up into Sasha's green eyes; a sad smile spreading across her face.
“Aren't we a pair.”
Sasha smiled back in spite of herself, and then pulled the girl back into spooning position. Again she felt the girl's body relax. But again, she wanted to talk. It was a game she and Tanya would play at night. Tanya desperately wanting to sleep and Sasha keeping her awake.
“Why did you do it?”
“Umm? I thought I just answered-”
“-No, why did you kiss me on Samhain," Sasha said. "Did I seem but another adoring fan, another pretty face?”
“You were masked,” was the yawned answer.
“What? Oh yes, that’s right” Sasha remembered, she had been wearing a golden mask, and Tanya a matching one of silver. “Then why did you kiss me? If not my face, then what?”
“Your voice,” came a sleepy reply.
“My voice? You were moved to kiss me by the sound of my voice?”
“It called me. Your voice. Your sound grabbed my soul and wouldn't let go. I had to kiss you.”
Sasha felt the pull of sleep now, too, yet, she could not help thinking how nicely the girl fit against her body. When Tanya lay so, she would speak some line of her latest poem. Sasha grew to love this time best of the day, for it seemed to her the most intimate of prayers.
“Which poem of Tanya's did you like?” Sasha mumbled, as the drowsiness clouded her mind.
“They are all amazing!”
“Yes, but...” Sasha yawned. “which do you like best?”
“Well, if I had to pick one I suppose it would be-”
“Nuh-uh,” Sasha murmured. “Say it.
When Orlando spoke next, her words sounded sing song; lilting.
“The moon is set, Pleiades gone,
the time is going by, and yet I sleep alone.”
Sasha sighed; Orlando had chosen 'I Sleep Alone,' which was her favorite. Such a sad wonderful lament, for it was the Goddess herself, crying out for her people.
“Where do you hide, my heart, my love,
Come back to me, come back to me.”
As sleep claimed her, Sasha could have sworn the words were not spoken, but sung, in the clearest sweetest voice she had ever heard.
Come back to me …come back to me...
10.
For the first time since Samhain, Sasha dreamed.
She sat on a grassy hill overlooking a moon-sparkled ocean. Someone had just bitten her ear and was giggling.
“You were ever the stubborn one! Do you know how long I’ve been trying to talk to you, lover?” said a woman dressed in a shimmering white tunic.
“I …I don’t understand, Tanya …how long?”
“Since I died, silly.” Tanya twirled the ends of her long silver blond hair with her finger, a habit that always annoyed Sasha, and one she so desperately missed now.
“This is …a dream then? You’re not real?” Sasha asked, suddenly sad.
“Yes this is a dream, but you tell me if I am real!” She bit Sasha’s ear again, hard.
“Ow!”
“That’s for being pig-headed and building stone walls around your heart. I warned you not to.”
“But …I missed you so much…” Sasha said, running her hand gently across Tanya’s fair face.
“I’ve been with you all along,” Tanya said, “Our love can never die, and through it, part of us is together always. But…”
Tanya’s head turned to the sea; she stared out over its infinite horizon, the blue of her eyes matching its depths.
“We look upon the ocean of Her,” Tanya said with longing in her low alto tone.
Sasha looked past Tanya at the blue sea below. She saw a trail of lights, like flickering candles, walking on the white sandy beach in to the shimmering water. She looked back to Tanya, and noticed a brightness now surrounded the fair-skinned woman.
“You wish to …go, Tanya? To the sea?
Tanya clasped her arms around Sasha. “I must, love, though I could not leave you alone and lost. But now you may love another …one who needs you as much as you think you need me…”
“I cannot love another! I cannot!”
Tanya wiped away Sasha’s tears with her long slender fingers.
“Lover, when I met you, you were as stiff and proper a Temple Guard as they came. I thought you had an iron rod up your ass. I don't mean to boast, but I showed you how to live, with passion. Now, there is one who needs you to care for her. Help her. Love her. If you do, you just may find you can be happy again.”
The brightness around Tanya grew, and she stood and looked to the sea. Tanya pulled her lover to her feet and brought her lips back to Sasha’s.
“Will I never see you again?”
“I'm not supposed to, not this turn of the wheel, but,” Tanya flashed a wicked smile, “like any vain author, if someone -who shall go unnamed- performs my works, I might pop in to hear the applause.”
“But-”
Tanya silenced her with a kiss, and then whispered, “I will always love you, Sasha, and we will meet again ...love again ...many times …many lives…”
She pulled away now and began walking to the bright blue.
“Tanya” Sasha cried, “Don’t go…”
As Tanya neared the other lights, she turned to blow a final kiss goodbye, calling in her playful voice,
“Stubborn, stubborn Sasha! Your joy lies in your arms!”
11.
Sasha woke to the sound of someone weeping. After a moment, she realized it was her.
Black silky gauze covered her eyes; it dawned on her it was Orlando’s hair — the lass still lay in her arms, fast asleep.
Sasha nudged her. “Wake, Orlando!”
The girl yawned and, seeing the tears on Sasha’s face, she wiped them away.
Sasha held the girl’s small olive skinned hand against her face. “You're the second one today to wipe my tears...”
Orlando blinked a confused look.
“Never mind. It is day’s first light, and-”
“-Such a dream I had last night!” Jules' voice boomed across the camp. “Me mum came an tol' me one of her bedtime tales. I've not heard her voice since she passed, so many years ago.”
“I did too,” came a chorus of responses from the waking guards. They gathered and chattered with excitement. They all dreamed of cherished loved ones who died, and they heard a singing in their dreams. A glorious voice that even now brought wetness to their eyes, though they didn't remember the words.
“Gel! Was it you?” Meg said.
Orlando bit her lip. “I can’t sing now ...can’t.”
“Last night, I dreamed of she who was the Arch-Priestess when I was a novice wet behind the ears. She was as a mother to me. And so I ask again: Did. You. Sing?”
“Yes,” the girl moaned. “I don't know how, but last night, I sang.”
“What does it mean,” Sasha asked the Arch-Priestess.
“It means we have no time to waste. For it is the morning of the seventh day. The altar smoke burns black. And a nightingale will come to the Temple.”
“A ...nightingale?” Sasha asked.
“Yes,” Meg said, and looked at the girl. “For the great Orlando must sing one last time.”
12.
The company traveled fast, making good time as it pushed west to the Temple.
At a fair distance from Anuvar, Ona spotted a black thunderhead pillaring high into the sky. As the troop drew closer, they realized what they looked on — sooty smoke pouring from the top of the white granite Temple to feed the immense black void.
“Goddess!” Meg whispered.
“The cloud was tiny when we left,” Jules, said, “now it is our end! I pray to the Lady my Hans has the good sense to be somewheres safe!”
Sasha had journeyed ahead to scout the situation and rode Sunshine at full gallop back to the Company.
“I've gone to the city. The streets are filled with fear. There's looting in the market section. And a rumor runs through the crowds that the coastal towns have already been flooded by the rising sea.”
“This chaos is beyond our ability to contain, Arch-Priestess” Sasha said, leaning forward on Sunshine, “We should be able to get you through to the Temple. I hope you know what to do when we bring you there.”
“I trust the Goddess, and, have an idea on what is needed.” A grim look spread across Meg's wrinkled face as she glanced back to Orlando in the wagon. “The cost may be high.”
Sasha's brow furrowed when she saw the stare Meg gave Orlando. The girl looked so small and her eyes were wide with fear. What did Meg intend for her?
She shook her head and turned to Jules. “You and Ona ride with Meg. Orlando?”
“Yes, Sasha?”
“To protect the Arch-Priestess, I want Jules and Ona in the wagon. If fighting starts, the less 'friendly heads' in the path of their swords, the better. So you ride with me.”
Sasha saw where the girl's gaze lay; she stared at the violent anarchy of the Anuvar streets. Since the girl had already been assaulted on the journey, Sasha could guess the fearful thoughts running through her mind.
“I will protect you,” Sasha said. “I swear it.”
“I know you will,” Orlando said, and reached up to the captain. “I trust you.”
Sasha grabbed her hands and swung her over to sit behind her again on Sunshine. And when the girl's hands clasped around Sasha's waist, it felt right. On impulse, Sasha turned and kissed Orlando, who blinked a confused but smiling expression.
“It was for luck,” Sasha said.
“And felt far better than a kick in the balls.” Orlando answered.
Sasha burst into laughter. “I would hope to the Lady it was so. Otherwise my kissing technique is woeful.”
Their exchange pricked the dread from the moment, for when Sasha looked to her women, she saw they smiled too.
Good! We need to ride in loose, Sasha thought, and not tense and distracted.
Sasha trotted Sunshine to the front of the company once more. Her copper red hair fluttered in the western wind, and her green eyes sparkled. She drew her gleaming saber and pointed to the massive blackness looming over the landscape.
“You see what we face, you know the prophecy. So! It comes down to this. We enter with swords drawn. Above all else, we must deliver the Arch Priestess to the Temple. She is our one hope; she alone can appease the Goddess. But only -if-we-get-her-there. Let it never be said of the Temple Guard they failed their charge. Ladies...
...let us ride.”
13.
They rode at full gallop, with Sasha, Sheala and the other Guards in front of the wagon. At first they met scattered resistance, as any would be attackers fled before the pounding hoofs. As they rounded a corner, they halted in front of a barrier of barrels manned by a dozen men. Not the rabble they'd met on the trail; these were uniformed and well-armed Militia men.
“Halt!” A tall lean fellow wearing, lieutenant stripes on his sleeves, stepped forward. “By order of Captain Lucas, all roads to the inner city are closed.”
“Good sir, I am Captain Catoriel of the Moon Temple Guard. We have urgent business at the Temple and must pass through.”
“So you say,” the lieutenant said. “Yet yesterday, a group of women disguised as Guard tried to pass this very check point. We detained them, and under questioning, they admitted they planned to pillage the treasury, for they'd heard it was unguarded.”
“I understand your caution, sir, yet we must pass. You do not have authority to block us; move aside.”
“The real Guard has that authority, yes, but you look too hard worn to pass for the elite Guard,” the fellow answered.
“We've been six days on the trail fetching the new Arch-Priestess. Who must reach the Temple or all is lost.” Sasha growled. “We do not have time for this!”
Everyone in the city is either trying to flee or cowering under beds. Sasha wondered how they managed to run into the one remaining company still doing its duty.
“I have often heard it said, in sword play, none can best Sasha Catoriel. If you are she, then prove it.”
Sasha vaulted from Sunshine and hit the ground with saber drawn. The lieutenant blinked, but raised his blade in response. After saluting, they banged steel.
Parry, riposte, retreat, glissade, advance, parry, parry, advance, advance, lunge...
Soon, the lieutenant was stumbling backwards, and was backed against the barrels.
“You are ...playing with me...” the man gasped. He had never seen such movement. Nor did he now, for her moves became too fast to follow.
“Playing? Nay, I am...” the lieutenant's sword clattered to the pavement. “...disarming you.”
“Captain Catoriel! My apologies!” the man said when he caught his breath. “The barrels are sand-filled and too heavy for the few of us guarding the barrier to move. I will send for reinforcements-”
“-No time. Jules?”
“On it Cap'n. A shame we don't have ropes to use the 'orses; we'll have to move it with elbow grease.”
The big woman gathered the Militia men at the post, and set them to pushing a barrel. Then she put a shoulder against it; the barrel groaned and scooted a few inches. “Push lads, push!”
The men pushed harder, and the barrel moved enough to tip it on an edge. They soon rolled it several yards to the side.
“One more, 'n we'll be able to ride the wagon through.” Jules said, gathering her breath before she set to another barrel. “C'mon, fellas, don't be outdone by a tiny lass like me.”
“Tiny lass? I've seen giant momma bears with less strength than you!” a militiaman muttered.
“What's that? You calling me a bear, sonny?” Jules growled, as she put her shoulder to another barrel.
“Er no, I meant-”
“Push!”
A wry grin crossed Sasha’s face. The sun overhead was almost obscured by the black smoke of the Temple. Plagues beset the land. The hour of the apocalypse was on them, and still, Jules found a way to harass the men. Incredible.
Soon the path was clear and the troop made its way to the heart of Anuvar City, where white pillared buildings -the Justice Hall, Mayor's Chambers, and Treasury, formed a circle around the Moon Temple. For Anuvar was built on a wide sloping hill, with the Goddess' Temple atop the summit.
When they reached the inner circle, they found the road block they had encountered really had been the only one not abandoned. For the parade grounds were filled with the people of Anuvar.
They sat in silence, waiting...
For death? Sasha wondered.
The scene was eerie, chilling. She knew it would have crushed Tanya to see her people so, lost and resigned, and was glad her lover was not here to suffer through this.
A large man -a living mountain, it seemed- stood up in the crowd. “Jules! Praise be the Lady, you're here!”
“Hans?” Jules shouted.
Sasha heard similar shouts for other of her guard; Ona and Sheala's highland mother waved from the right. Other spotted husbands or siblings in the crowd.
Her Moon Temple Warriors turned to her. They did not ask, and Sasha was so proud of them for that.
“Ladies, your mission is finished. Go, be with your loved ones. You are released.”
“But Cap'n,” Jules said, “I'll stay with ye, ye know that.”
"You all would.” Sasha gathered them, giving each a kiss. “It has been my everlasting honor to serve with you. Now go. I will take Meg ...and Orlando …to the Temple. And then, we will see what we will see.”
Her Guardswomen gave the Goddess salute, and then dispersed to their families in the crowd.
As the trio wound their way to the Temple steps, people recognized Meg and shouted out. “It's the old Arch-Priestess! Come to save us!” or “Meg! Praise the Lady you've returned!”
Meg waved and muttered “nothing like a spot of pressure; end of the world and all that,” as she hobbled up the stone stairs. Jacob's farm seemed a million miles away. She pulled the Arch-Priestess pendant from beneath her smock; the silver Goddess figure glowed in the gloom.
The priestesses Naomi and Janina waited at the entrance, despair filling their eyes.
“Thank the Lady you've come, holy one,” Naomi said. “Your purple robes are ready; let us prepare you and-”
Meg waived them quiet. “Take this one,” she motioned to Orlando. “Prepare her for the Delirium.”
“Arch-Priestess?” Janina screeched. “I don't understand. Why a minor ritual? You must perform the Purification, else the seventh day will pass and the prophecy will be fulfilled.”
Meg stood straight, and her voice echoed with Goddess power. “It shall be as I say!”
“B-but Arch-Priestess! The Delirium must be performed by an ordained priestess of the Moon, and this one-”
“-Damnation! You pick a fine time to be technically correct, woman. Would that you had shown the same spine with Miriam, we might not have come to this day.”
“We did try...” Naomi answered.
Meg sighed. She was being too hard on them, but it was the end of their world, so she did not have the time to 'guide with a gentle hand’.
“Orlando! Step before me.”
“Yes?” Her hazel eyes were wide with fright, but they had looked so since the troop approached the city.
“Kneel.”
After Orlando knelt before her, Meg turned to the priestesses. “I have instructed this one in the Goddess Path.” Then Meg laid her hands on Orlando's silky hair.
“Do you swear, to devote yourself to our Lady? Mind, heart and soul?”
There was a much longer 'official oath', Meg knew this, one which took hours of chanting. But in the end, it boiled down to those words.
Orlando's eyes widened. “I'm not sure what's going on here.”
“Answer!” Meg commanded with power.
Orlando's soft voice quivered. “Where I once fled from Her, I now swear, all I am, I give to Her.”
“Witness,” Meg said to the priestesses.
“Witnessed,” they answered, for Orlando had given a proper response.
“By the authority vested in me, I name you ...er ...I don't know your birth city, gel.”
“It's a highland town called ...Rossignol.”
Meg snorted; she couldn't help it. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am, grandmother.”
Meg stroked the girl's face. “It is well. By the authority vested in me, I name you Priestess Rossignol of Moon Temple. Now take our newest Order member and prepare her as I instructed.”
“Yes, revered one.” Naomi and Janina bowed.
“Go with them, Orlando. I'll be along in a moment to explain what will happen.”
The girl nodded but walked to Sasha first. “Thank you.”
“You're thanking me? But why? I'm the one who-”
Orlando stood on tip toes to kiss the lean red-head, and silence her.
“No time for that debate. I wish there was, because I think we ...you and I ...could have...”
Orlando shook her head, and then let Naomi and Janina lead her into the Temple. She paused before she left the room, to mouth a plaintive 'good-bye' to Sasha.
Sasha's hand still rested on her lips, recalling the sweet caress. “What ritual is it she is to perform, grandmother? A lesser ritual?”
“Ha! Miriam called it so because she saw no 'profitable' use from it. No power. In essence, the rite works to expand a priestess' consciousness, to experience the Goddess' love.”
“Is that what we need? It would seem a purification is more appropriate, than-”
“-You would question me too? SILENCE!” Meg's voice echoed to the Temple ceiling, reminding Sasha that Meg's 'sweet old woman' act was sometimes just that.
“The Goddess is NOT being subtle. Do you think some magic words mumbled by me will save our people? Did that work for Miriam? It is Orlando! It has always been Orlando. Do you not see Her hand at work here?”
Sasha wasn't sure she understood anything. She swallowed hard. “What happens in the ceremony?”
“A priestess performing the Delirium is anointed with special oils, and given herbs to alter her perceptions — to expand them,” Meg said. “Then the temple drums are beat in a rhythm meant to carry the priestess away...”
“Away? Where?” Sasha asked.
“To oneness. To Her.”
“But, how will this turn the Altar fires pure again?” Sasha asked, now wondering if Meg might have taken mind-expanding herbs.
“Oh, it won't. But I'm going to alter the ritual. I will have Orlando sing.”
The stratagems of high priestesses are beyond me, Sasha reflected. So she concentrated on what the warrior in her understood.
“Is there danger?”
“Oh yes. The herbs are powerful and the experience profound. Some priestesses, once they join with Her ...never come back.”
“But that means you are sacrificing her! Leading her like a lamb to-”
“-I am not! I cannot, for a sacrifice must be freely given. Orlando alone can choose to do so.”
The feeling washing over her was the same as when she lost Tanya, for Orlando, she reckoned, was meant to die. Bitter irony! Where once she cursed a thousand deaths on the troubadour, now she wished but a little more time with her. Yet like Tanya...
“But don't you fear for her? You who call her granddaughter? You who-”
Meg put a finger to Sasha's lips. “Yes, granddaughter, I do, as I fear for you every time you leave on a mission. But ...perfect love, perfect trust. Let go and let the Goddess.”
Sasha knew when Meg spoke those Goddess words, their talk was over. For when she spoke them, the discussion closed. Yet she would ask one last question.
“When you ordained Orlando, what did you mean when you asked if she was serious?”
“Ah,” Meg smiled, “Orlando was serious, but the Goddess? Now there is a Lady with an infinite sense of humor.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Rossignol, in the highland dialect, means nightingale.
14.
The great drums of the Temple beat doom doom doom, as the priestesses led her to an ante chamber deep in the Temple. There, they bathed her, first in a pool of seawater, and then in one of fresh water, hot and steamy.
After they dried her, her dark olive skin was rubbed with oil infused with fennel, sage, and Ylang Ylang, from faraway Anatol Isles. A slow tingle spread from the crown of her head to her delicate feet, relaxing her so deeply, the girl no longer felt her muscles were connected to her bones. The priestesses had to react fast to keep her from sliding onto the floor. Finally, she was clothed in robes weaved from the purest cotton of the elvish lands across the sea.
Meg signaled to Naoma, who left the room to return with a small crystal vial on a silver tray. She approached the girl and unstopped the vial. Orlando, already dazed, gave a languid look to Meg; after the high priestess nodded, the girl allowed Naomi to drop the liquid onto her tongue. She puckered at the bitter, acidic taste.
Last, she was taken into the inner most room of the Temple, the room she was first transformed in. She was blindfolded then, but now she saw all: vast white marbled columns, lining the walls and stretching far far up.
In the center stood the Altar: a massive marble table and on each side, a three-meter wide shallow saucer on a stone tripod. Flames flickered on the tripods, and billowing black, thick smoke poured upward, through the huge open sky window, feeding the ever-growing cloud of darkness that loomed over all.
Behind the altar stood the bronze Goddess statue. Through the twin hazes of smoke and mind altering herbs, Orlando could just make out the expression on the Lady's face. Fierce, loving, and alive.
A priestess ran to Meg with panicked eyes. "The sea! The sea is rising! It has crested the flood dikes and pours into the city! We must flee!"
“Silence! We are at the critical moment and you would ruin everything!” Meg's eyes glittered with light and when she touched the priestess' forehead, her fingertips sparked.
“You will not speak until the ritual is concluded.”
The woman's arms went slack and her mouth flopped open, but not a sound would come.
Meg breathed a relieved sigh when she saw Orlando was still entranced. She removed the girl’s robe and positioned her on her knees before the altar. The drums beat faster faster! and Orlando struggled not to sway, for between the frenetic beats, the oil and strange drops and the smoke, she was spinning with vertigo. She lost track of time and space and direction.
Do you wish to sing again, Orlando?
It sounded like Meg's voice, but she wasn't sure...
Yes yes yes I would sing again!
What would you give to sing again?
Everything!
Then tell Her! Sing, Orlando! Sing to the Goddess!
Images formed in her mind — of sound, of waves — and she heard a voice ...cool whispers fell on her as rain, asking asking...
She had felt this before when she was first a singer and she had turned away. Not this time! Not this time!
She smashed her arms on the stone floor, shouting:
“Lady! Take my body, I long for you! Take my soul, I burn for you! Take me back, let me sing for you!”
Vibrations poured into her — music filled her, until she must surely burst. She writhed on the stone floor, moaning, screaming, in agony, in ecstasy.
Then, it was there! And it had to come out!
She rose and looking to the sky window, she birthed it; she sang.
At first a wordless tune, low and soft but growing in volume and intensity as it rose in pitch, until the marble columned walls started to vibrate.
The center of the massive cloud above convulsed, winding in on itself, tighter and tighter, until, with a shattering thunderclap, it exploded outward, a black circle growing wider and wider, a wave blowing across the land.
Brilliant sun beamed through the sky window, spotlighting Orlando.
And her voice, Her voice flowed:
My tears of loneliness have filled the sea,
Come back to me, come back to me...
At the passing of the cloud, a cheer rose from the throngs outside the Temple. It silenced, as each person heard Orlando's voice as if singing to he or she alone.
I birthed the mountains to bring you close,
Come back to me, come back to me...
In crowds throughout the isle, where fearful people gathered in temples at the hour of doom, they each, they all, heard her song, her clear pure voice.
I cast the stars to ease your nights,
Come back to me, come back to me...
With each verse the people were filled with longing; with each note they remembered, Her.
Come back to me…
They were loved; they had been away from Her for so long, too long.
Come back to me…
Weeping, tears of sorrow, of joy, their hearts cried , “I am coming, O Goddess I am coming…”
And Sasha, burst into tears, finally and truly grieving for her lost lover, for it was Tanya's words Orlando sang! And she knew somehow, she knew Tanya heard Orlando too and was ecstatic.
The song ceased.
All was silence in the Temple, except for the sound of the flickering altar flames. Flames burning the purest silver-white.
Blinking away wetness, Sasha looked for her singer, and saw a small figure on the floor in front of the altar. Sasha ran to her and swept her into her arms. Orlando’s face was sallow and the brightness faded from her eyes.
“What is it? Orlando, speak! What is wrong?”
Meg and the other priestesses gathered round now. Sasha shot Meg a pleading look.
“Grandmother! Help her!”
“She ...she gave everything she had. There may be nothing left.”
“No, no, not again!” Sasha cried. “Do something!”
Meg turned to Janina. “Go! Fetch the healers, fast as you can!”
“Why so sad, love?” Orlando asked Sasha in a whisper. “Did you hear? Did you hear?”
“I heard, and it was glorious. But don’t go Orlando ...don't go. Stay here. With me. Stay!”
“Music ...I hear music ...I am music ...I…”
Orlando’s eyes fluttered shut for the last time.
IV. Epilogue
1. Beltane
"Be at ease, Captain, and release your women. Come, sit, and give your report."
Sasha stood, unhearing. Her mind still swirled at what she saw when they arrived back in Anuvar, minutes ago.
After Orlando sang, the smoke cleared and the water receded. The new Arch-Priestess reckoned that was not all the good news that happened when the nightingale sang her song to the Goddess and She answered. So Meg sent the Moon Temple Guard to the ends of the Isle.
Sasha, Jules and the twins traveled east; Sasha sent other Guardswomen details south to Port Town and north to the highlands.
A snap of Meg's finger brought the captain back to the present.
“Sasha, let them go, they are exhausted.”
“Yes, sorry.” Sasha said. She turned and saluted Jules and the twins, who returned her Goddess salute.
“Try not to drink too much ale, Jules,” Sasha said, plastering a smile on her face.
“No no; too early for that, Cap’n,” the big woman answered. “Instead, I must rest and prepare for Beltane. Hans and I always look forward to the festival, but after what happened, this year will be special.”
“Beltane? That’s…”
“Today, Captain, why don't you spend it with us?” Ona, whispered; concern written on her face. For all had seen as they approached the Temple — the triple moon flag hanging half-mast, in remembrance of a priestess who passed over.
“It would do you good to ...to forget and enjoy,” Sheala added.”
Sasha nodded and mumbled her good-byes.
She walked across the council chamber floor to where the Arch Priestess sat. Sasha melted into the chair in front of Meg with a sigh; she loved Sunshine to pieces, but after days of hard riding, a simple wooden chair felt wonderful; small pleasures. It was all the Goddess granted her, it seemed.
"Sasha," Meg said. "Before you start your report, I should tell you of Orlando. I-"
"-No! Duty first! I must report.”
Meg ordered her Captain on the mission to take her mind off Orlando’s condition. It hadn't worked; Sasha fretted the entire journey about the near death coma the girl lay in. The flag confirmed the outcome, but Sasha could delay hearing the tragic news for a few more moments.
“Well, Captain? Give it,” Meg said. She knew how famously stubborn Sasha could be, for hadn't she raised her when the wee orphan was left on the Temple steps?
“Yes, ma’am. My detail that traveled south reports the epidemic in Port Town has ended. Mayor Tomlun said a great wind blew through the town, from the northwest, and the stricken started recovering with its passing.”
“Wonderful news, praise the Lady! When did the storm pass through the city?”
“Three days ago. Also, my northern troop returned with news from the drought stricken highlands: a gentle storm settled into the mountain plateau bringing life-giving rains. The drought has lifted, the loss of livestock is small. With steady rains through summer, the wheat harvest should be bountiful.”
“Mark my words, Sasha, it will be our best harvest ever. And the rain started three days ago, yes?” Meg asked.
Sasha nodded her head. “Last, I visited the Temple of the Sun on the eastern shore. The High Priest said a mighty storm, traveling west to east, blew to sea, and scattered King Jarl’s invasion fleet. Not one ship reached our shores.”
“This miracle …also happened three days hence?” Meg asked.
“Yes. The High Priest sends his gratitude that we have appeased our Goddess. He said he hoped his advice was useful. I assume you know to what he refers? ”
Meg snorted. “Pigs, lass. High Priest Feinis suggested we sacrifice pigs.”
Sasha’s face reddened. “We did sacrifice someone, though, didn’t we? Orlando sang with the voice of the Goddess and the blackness went out as a great cleansing storm. She sang, and our people were healed, our invaders were repulsed and our land received life-giving rain. She sang her life away for us!”
“Sasha, it’s all right! Listen! She knew what she was doing-”
“-All right? It will never be all right again!” Sasha shouted. “I lose Tanya to evil, and then …here’s the funny part, a few days ago, the one I thought had taken my love from me - the one I damned - I found I liked her! No, more than that, I cared for her, when I believed my heart could never respond to another.”
Sasha stood and pushed back from her chair. “I wished to the Goddess for Orlando to suffer and die, and the Goddess -for the first time in my life- granted my wish. I even watched her last breath leave her lips, as I swore I would do.”
“Yes, that is true, I suppose.” Meg said, wondering on the ways of the Goddess. “Orlando is gone.”
Sasha staggered a step at the confirmation. Then she knelt beside Meg's chair and put her head in the old woman's lap.
“Why of all my thousands of wishes throughout my life, did she grant me this one?”
Meg stroked Sasha's copper hair. “Granddaughter, you’ve been under soul numbing pressure since the night Tanya died. Sheala is right; go to Beltane and loosen up-”
“Are you serious?” Sasha raised her head, and her eyes reddened “Have you heard a word I have said? What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing, granddaughter, all is well. The only thing amiss is my Captain needs to relax. Go to the festival, take a friend or partner…or… I know …you could go with Gale.”
With each word Meg spoke, Sasha became more enraged …until Meg’s last.
“W-what did you say?”
“I said, take my newest priestess Gale Rossignol. It would do you both good.”
“She’s alive? But you said Orlando was... and the flag flies at half-mast and-”
“-Miriam passed over last night, Goddess bless her soul. The woman found peace at the end though,” Meg said, growing thoughtful.
“So Orlando is-
“-Gone. When the girl awakened yesterday morning, she announced ‘I am Gale.’”
Where moments before Sasha knew numbness, now there was energy.
“She …Gale ...is alive and well?”
“Alive, yes” Meg answered, “but ‘well’ is a relative term. She is fit and hale, yet…”
“Yet what?”
“I visited long with her yesterday and this morning. She’s ...well, she's a living miracle, for when she sings, it is the voice of the Goddess. All our people must her hear sing. But-”
“-Enough with the 'yets' and 'buts', what's wrong with her?”
“You will first notice how innocent she is-”
“-Innocent? Orlando?” If Sasha had been drinking a beverage she would have spewed it. “We are talking about one of the biggest womanizers in our history.”
“No, we are not. Orlando is gone. Oh, she remembers in full her life as the troubadour, but she is not he. It is what she gave to regain her voice.”
“While sad,” Sasha said, after she puzzled on Meg’s words, “I think …Gale will eventually recover from this and-”
“-This was the least of her changes, Sasha.”
“Then what? Tell me!”
Meg sighed. There was no easy way to do this.
“Remember how I said some priestesses never come back from the Delirium? Well, Gale did return, mostly...”
“Mostly?”
Meg fingered the Goddess pendant hanging from her neck. “She is connected to Her still. She hears Her. And, to do so requires an infinite opening of her being. Where we have barriers we erect between our finite nature and the Lady, Gale's are gone.”
“What does that mean, grandmother? How does she act because of this? Speak plain.”
“Do you remember how Tanya would be when she was touched with Goddess inspiration?”
Sasha did. There would be a light, a glowing in her lover's eyes, and ...she was so enraptured she was apt to walk into a sign post. When the muse was on her, common sense deserted Tanya.
“I remember it well.”
“Gale is likewise affected, only she is like that almost all the time. She must be always listening, receiving, and singing.”
"But you can’t live with your head in the clouds day and night!”
“No, you can’t,” Meg answered, staring into Sasha’s eyes. “I …do not know how long our nightingale will remain with us before the Goddess’ song carries her away.”
Sasha blanched. “But we’ve only delayed her death then! She was innocent! Why did the Goddess let this happen to her?”
“Why? No mortal can know the mind of the Lady, but, think on this — Orlando was given a great gift, just as we were given this blessed land. Orlando took his gift too lightly, just as we began to take the gift of this glorious Isle for granted. A doom came on him, so also with us. We had all abandoned the Lady…”
“And so she would have destroyed us?”
“Think not of it so. It is better to say that in not inviting Her to us, other things rushed in to fill Her place. Orlando changed that — she called to the Goddess, and the Goddess came and through Orlando’s voice, She comes to us still.”
“Yes, but at what cost? She sacrificed herself and soon will die.”
"She sacrificed being Orlando. It was her choice before the Goddess, and now she is ecstatic, for she is filled with music! She lacks but one thing.”
"What? What thing does she lack? For I will find it for her, no matter the cost," Sasha swore.
Meg leaned closer to the copper haired warrior. “She needs someone to anchor her, here.”
“Anchor her? What do you mean?”
“She will not eat, sleep, or dress if she is not told, she will simply sing,” the gray-haired woman continued. “I left a plate of food for her this morning, and I bet you silver and gold it sits untouched in her room as she plays her lute and sings. She needs somebody to watch her. Care for her. And most important, give her a reason to stay with us longer.”
Meg leaned back now in her chair, with a 'cat that ate the canary' look on her face. “As she is now …um, a …spiritual treasure ...of the Temple, and as you started Gale down this path …perhaps it is your duty to be that reason? Your duty to …love her?”
Sasha grew silent. Finally, she stood, wrapped her arms around Meg and kissed both her cheeks.
“I must fly, grandmother, for I have important errands; I must fetch Beltane gifts for a songbird.”
2.
Hush! Hush! It is morning, it is spring!
Hear the thrush serenading the sky!
Quick, quick! On your feet, out the door!
For the music is drifting away...
Sasha stood outside the room, mesmerized by the girl’s song, by the joy of it. Some moments after it ended she shook herself free from its spell and knocked.
"Come in," came the soft answer.
Sasha opened the door, to see Gale dressed in a loose white robe, reclined on her couch, plucking her lute.
Her hair had been washed, braided and scented. Sasha smelled jasmine as she walked to the olive-skinned beauty. As she drew near the girl, she saw Gale's body shined with oil, Lady help her, someone —Sasha suspected Meg ordered it, the conniving Arch-Priestess- had even applied a charcoal liner around the girl's doe eyes. Sasha's eyes were drawn like a magnet, to the rounded and oiled breasts that lay open before her.
Lady help me, but she is gorgeous!
Gale’s face brightened into a grin and she sighed 'Sasha' .
An attendant left by Meg to care for her snapped out of her song trance. “How long have I been standing here?”
“I don't know, how long have you been standing there? It is near dusk.”
“Dusk? No! It is lunch time and…” the servant looked at a tray on a nearby table, filled with uneaten fruit and cheese. “Nooo! I forgot to have her eat! The Arch-Priestess will have my head!”
Sasha showed mercy to the bespelled woman. “It seems you've been standing a long time, sister. Go rest your feet, I will watch our songbird priestess.”
“Now you mention it, my feet are swollen …and ...uh …she will be safe with you? Because Meg said she needs to be watched and ...what am I saying …you are the Captain of the Guard. Of course she’ll be fine with you…”
The woman was beet red and stumbling to the door. “Good bye, sweet lady, you sing so divine…” her voice trailed down the hall.
Sasha struggled to contain her laughter fit, and almost succeeded. "O Lady Gale! I am yet another fan, and come bearing gifts.”
First, Sasha dropped a blue bag on the floor, and then from behind her back, she produced a dozen roses, which she handed to Gale.
The girl placed her lute on the table, took the roses and breathed in. “These are beautiful. But who are they for?”
“You, silly, I've a proposition for you.”
“Hey! Your hair is unbraided and you are wearing a dress! A red dress. Whoa momma! Goddess, I missed you.”
“Um, Gale? Not that I mind, but you ought to get in the habit of covering your chest.”
“Er, why? Oh ...these...” Gale cupped her breasts and looked down at them.
“You can’t be that clueless. You've had them for months! You must realize you have the kind of breasts men -and *ahem* some women- drool over.”
When Gale gave her another doe-eyed look, Sasha rolled her eyes.
“Or maybe you can.” Sasha pulled Gale to the table with the uneaten food. “Now …what's all this? When was the last time you ate?”
Gale scrunched her brows. How long had it been? After looking at the food Meg had ordered her to eat this morning, she bit her lip and lowered her head.
“Oops!”
“Oops? Sit!” she ordered. Gale plopped in a chair and Sasha took one beside her. She picked a juicy strawberry from the plate and brought it to Gale's lips.
“Sasha, I can feed myself just fine-”
“-Eat!” Sasha pushed the red fruit into Gale's mouth.
“Mm. Mmmmm. Hey! I'm hungry!”
Sasha rolled her eyes again and brought a goat cheese hunk to Gale’s lips.
"Do you know what today is?”
Gale shook her head as she chewed.
"I guessed not. It's Beltane, and the festival starts in a few minutes. Meg's giving the invocation.”
"Belta...?!”
Sasha silenced her with a blood orange slice. "I was hoping you would accompany me.”
Sasha knew she rushed matters. Yes, Gale's eyes brightened when Sasha entered her room. And yes, they shared tender moments on the trail, and bonded in their suffering.
But Sasha also was mindful she was the cause of Gale's suffering. She altered the troubadour's life so profoundly, in truth Orlando was dead.
She had no idea if Gale would even be interested in her romantically. The poor thing's gender had been switched; it was sudden, magical, and -to be honest- violent. Sasha had never heard of such a thing, and hadn't the faintest idea what rules applied. Orlando lusted after women, of that there was no doubt; even Sasha could confirm it. But would Gale lust after men? Or, maybe she wouldn't be interested in sex at all, either from men or women.
Still ...Sasha wasted a year working up the courage to approach Tanya, intimidated by the poet-priestess' dazzling mind and profound devotion to the Lady. Scared that Tanya would not share her orientation, and would reject her. Yet when Sasha did approach, they sparked; she discovered a kindred soul, a caring friend, and an adventurous -and randy- lover. She lost an entire year they could have had! She would not make the same mistake again.
Nor could she afford to with Gale; from what Meg said, she might not have the time to wait. One thing alone held her back from grabbing the young priestess and ravishing her on the spot. The lingering feeling she was being unfaithful to Tanya. Yes, Tanya told her to love Gale, but that was a dream, right?
“Well?” Sasha asked finally.
Gale stopped chewing. “Us? Together?”
“That's the idea, magpie, since, you know, it's hard to go on a date separately.”
“A date?” Gale's eyes leaked moisture and she looked away. “You're doing this out of guilt, or pity.”
“What?” Sasha grabbed Gale's face and turned it to face her own. "You listen to me, my pretty thrush-”
“-I'm a nightingale, not a thrush, if you mugmmm-”
Sasha gagged Gale with another strawberry. “Hush! I was not asking you on a pity date! I care for you.”
“Don't ...just don't ...pretend, hmm? I've read nothing but Tanya's words since I woke yesterday. She is amazing! Holy. You deserve someone like her and not one who wasted years singing drinking songs for coin and swill.”
Is this what was bothering her? Some ridiculous notion she was unworthy? Good Goddess! The girl had, just three days ago, saved the entire frickin island and almost died doing it. She might still. Unworthy? Sasha had a mind to throw the girl over her knee and spank her for such silliness.
Mmmm. That might be fun...
Sasha shook her head. “I am not taking no for an answer. Which brings me to my second gift.”
Sasha pulled out a short creamy dress and a pair of golden flat sandals. “Daylight's burning, sweetie. Stand.”
Sasha's willpower was tested next, for when she pulled Gale's robe over her shoulders and let it slip to the ground, she saw the Goddess had blessed Gale with silky smooth olive skin and curves to die for.
Gale looked into Sasha's green eyes and whispered, “You like?”
O Goddess yes! Sasha shivered from the words; the girl's voice held so much power!
“I like very much.” Sasha hoped she would show Gale just how much later. For now, she dropped the dress over Gale's head. After Gale slipped on her sandals, her eyebrows arched.
“Why is my dress so short? Is it hot outside?”
“Not particularly,” Sasha said. “I just wanted to see your legs.”
Gale reddened, but smiled too, a coy one.
“Come fair one,” almost almost Sasha called her 'lover.' “The fires of Beltane are on us. Let us dance and drink and ...sing.”
3.
Meg had a problem.
As she looked out over the vast crowd gathered in the parade ground, she knew it for certain.
The mood of the revelers was bright, festive. Folk wore rainbow-hued ribbons and sparkling jewelry.
They were content, for, their island was safe, the Goddess loved them, Beltane was here. All was well.
Even better, since the moment Gale sang their doom away, it was standing room only in the Moon Temple, and candidates for the Order arrived by the cartloads.
Yet, Meg knew, this wasn't a happy ever after. 'Forever' endings were a myth. The wise old priestess knew this time was instead an opening, when, for a moment, Gale's song awakened their hearts to let the Goddess in again.
As she listened to her Under Priestesses chant the rites and speak their homilies, Meg feared they would send the people's heart's into slumber again. Oh, they spoke the proper words: this was the season where the Sun Lord and Lady joined, bringing new life to the earth. Fertility. Coupling.
Their words were dogmatic and uninspired, and the crowd grew restless. Meg could hear their thoughts: when will they stop blathering so we can party?
The Order suffered under Miriam —in the past days, Meg learned the depth of it- and she wasn't sure which of her priestesses were true to the calling. Meg would not live much longer -she knew this- yet she must leave the Moon Temple in the hands of those who will inspire the people to keep awake. To Her.
Meg had resigned herself to giving her 'perfect love perfect trust, I let go and let Goddess’ homily. Sure, she overused the sermon in her previous tenure, it was true, but she felt it would spark the crowd's interest. Moreover, she wanted to see which of her priestesses were most affected by the message. For those would be the ones she would work with.
Then, she spotted a familiar couple in the crowd, two most dear to her, and another idea came to the Arch-Priestess. She felt guilty about putting the girl on the spot, but...
“Priestess Rossignol! Come forward!”
It took some moments -for the girl approached the podium as a shy skittery fawn would- but finally she arrived at Meg's side. With the Captain of the Moon Temple Guard behind her, looking pissed at the interruption of their date.
“M-meg?” Gale said. “What do you want?”
“Nothing painful or horrible, lass. I would like you to sing a short song to end the ceremony, and to kick off the celebration.”
Gale blanched, and whispered, “I don't know the chants for the holiday. I was drafted into the Order by a tricksey Arch-Priestess, and haven't yet learned-”
“-Bah! Worry not of that. Sing whatever springs to mind.” Then Meg announced, in her Goddess amplified voice, no less, “good people of Anuvar! In closing, our sister Gale will sing.”
Gale stepped forward without hesitation, now, for this was singing; her clear crystal voice rang out:
“Have you ever heard the tale of poor Durbin of Danawy?”
The crowd silenced in an instant, for they knew that voice! It was she who sang to them in the darkest hour.
Gale smiled. She had worked countless crowds as Orlando; she knew what she was doing.
“Well have you?”
Finally, several 'no, we haven'ts' came from the crowd. Gale winked at Sasha and launched into a lilting comical tune about a poor fellow who always seemed to bumble into the most 'terrible' fixes, cornered by hungry dragons, or trapped aboard sinking pirate ships, or whatever. Each time he would gnash and wail that the Goddess had deserted poor Durbin and he would surely die.
Then she sang the chorus:
Wake! Durbin, wake! I am here, I am with you. Open your eyes and see.
Look! Durbin look! My arms never left you. Open your heart to me.
By the second verse, the crowd was caught; they clapped and swayed and sang along with Gale, their voices loud and hearty in the late spring twilight. When she finished the final verse, the people roared their pleasure.
Meg noted the scowl on several of her priestesses, who were no doubt thinking how impious the song was. Meg also marked the ones nodding their heads, recognizing the girl had placed the Lady's message in the hearts of the people in a way a thousand sermons could never do.
Meg was about to say the closing prayer, when a voice cried out, “The Lady speaks to you, beautiful priestess. We've heard what others say we should do for Beltane. Now tell us what She says.”
Meg wasn't sure what to do. Gale could sing a tidal wave away, but talking? It wasn't her strong suit. Meg held her breath. Because Gale did something odd: bird like, she cocked her head, as if listening. Her voice echoed across the parade ground.
“She says … wherever you are, whatever you do, be in love.”
The crowd cheered again, and fled to the dance circles, taverns and market stalls. As they dispersed, Meg heard them singing the verse still, Wake Durbin wake! I am here I am with you...
Her mind was spinning; she needed to sit. Meg believed her own words, of perfect love, perfect trust, were the simplest, most direct expression of devotion to the Lady. But what Gale said! O Goddess!
Meg felt a priestess wrap an arm around her shoulder to help her stand.
“Arch-Priestess Meg! Her words! So simple, yet ...be in love ...be in love. If you are always in love, then you are always in the Goddess!”
That was true. The message was so clear, Meg wondered if the Lady had spoken the words to Gale. She turned to ask the girl, but found she was not there. She searched and found them, her adopted granddaughters, who both, in a way, came to her as orphans. Both suffered terrible loss. She saw Sasha and Gale, walking hand-in-hand across the grounds. Meg looked skyward and mouthed 'thank-you.'
Then she turned to the middle-aged priestess who held her. Phyllis, she recollected. She was a quiet one, but most sincere and devout. By the expression on Phyllis' face, Meg knew she 'got it.'
“Amazing indeed,” Meg said. “Phyllis, I am fine dear, just a bit too old to whirl around the May Pole tonight. You should, though. Go, enjoy the holiday, but tomorrow, come to my chamber, for I would speak to you on plans I have for the Temple.”
4.
“You were amazing!”
“Hmm?” Gale asked, as they wandered hand in hand, from booth to gaily lit booth.
“You. That song. It seemed so light and yet was so powerful.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Among the crowds, the girl had become wide-eyed and demure again. Sasha wondered why.
“The old Orlando would have needed a cart to carry the coin he’d have gotten from such a performance, eh?”
“The old Orlando was a fool. Their souls cried out for my song, and I was blessed by the Lady with the power to give it to them. I only wish I had been doing this years and years ago.”
“Are you happy, Gale?” Sasha feared the girl’s answer, for she had suffered so much at the warrior’s hands.
Gale squeezed Sasha’s hand and looked her in the eye. “Yes. I’ve never been happier.”
Sasha shook her head at the Beltane evening, for it was disconcerting; it seemed equal parts familiar and foreign.
Familiar because, though the weather of Samhain was cool and crisp, and Beltane humid warm, this reminded her so very much of her last night with Tanya.
Foreign, because Gale was not Tanya, nor, it was clear, was she even the old Orlando. She was someone new …and wonderful.
As they meandered about, Sasha started to see what Meg warned her of, for the girl's mood adapted to whomever they were near. If someone were happy and laughing, why then, Gale's face showed it too.
And if they passed one who was somber -rare tonight, but there were a few- then the girl's mood turned melancholy.
Curiosity got the better of Sasha. “What's wrong,” she asked, seeing wetness on Gale's face.
“So sad, so sad.”
Sasha rolled her eyes; she didn't mean to be insensitive, but Gale was going to have to give her a little more to go on than that.
“What is, sweetie?”
“Him,” Gale whispered, and motioned to a brown-haired man, with a cup of ale in his hand, looking at a crowd of people dancing.
“He's so alone. He longs to be with them,” Gale nodded to the rowdy dancers, “But he's too shy. It's why he hates holidays, for he always celebrates alone.”
“How do you know this?”
“His song. His song.” Gale answered, with tears rolling down her cheeks.
Sasha had a thought; she pulled Gale away from the man and next to the dancers, and Gale's face brightened. It clicked; Sasha understood.
“You hear souls! You hear them sing.”
Gale nodded. “In my room it was not a problem, but here it's overwhelming.”
This must be another aspect of what Meg meant; Gale was always listening to soul songs and couldn't shut it off.
Sasha pulled Gale away from the dancers and by chance took her to the same park where she and Tanya made love at Samhain. Again Sasha shook her head at life’s circle. She pulled Gale down beside her and wrapped her arms around her.
“I'm the one who burdened you with this curse,” Sasha said. “I'm so sorry. Sorry for everything.”
“Now your song is sad. But maybe I can ...fix that?” Gale's lips brushed over Sasha's; a chaste kiss.
Sasha puzzled a moment, as she remembered the way Orlando kissed her on Samhain: bold and with tongue action. Gale's rebirth had indeed returned her innocence.
Sasha pondered this only a moment, before she pushed Gale down to the spring grass and gave her serious and wet kisses.
“What is my soul saying now?”
“Same as mine, I expect,” Gale said, with a lazy smile.
Sasha cuddled and caressed her little olive-skinned songbird, but she didn't push her too far. She so wanted to, wanted to do far more with Gale, but couldn’t bring herself to…
“Darling, can you hear the soul singing of every living person?”
Gale blinked. “Not sure I know what you mean...”
“I mean, you hear every living soul, yes?”
The girl's forehead wrinkled at that. “When I sang at the Altar, I was filled with music, with the songs of each and every soul. Not living or dead, all of them. They became a chorus, singing together. Became Her voice. Became Her. It overwhelmed me. Dissolved me. After I returned ...I can still hear the ocean of Her…”
This was what Sasha battled, the siren song of the infinite, calling to claim Gale.
Battling the infinite, Sasha thought. Those are long odds. Captain Catoriel has never backed down from a fight before, and I won’t now.
Sasha jumped up, and yanked Gale to her feet.
“I have cool wine waiting in my flat, songbird. If you would like, we could go there to rest, or whatever. If you are ready to leave the celebration.”
Another fit of shyness overcame the girl, and her eyes looked downward. But she murmured, “I am.”
They ran into Jules and Hans on their way, who nearly smothered them in their enthusiastic embrace.
“Loved your Durbin song, lass,” Jules said, “me ‘n Hans have been humming it all night.”
“Thank you. The story’s from Tanya; I just adapted it.”
“Say! If ‘n it’s not too early to book ye, I’d be grateful if you’d sing at my daughter’s-”
“-son’s,” Hans chimed in.
“Our child’s anointing ceremony,” Jules said.
The old Orlando would have been insulted; he did not do anointings, and never sang at handfastings. But Gale was not Orlando.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jules.”
“Thank ye, lass, it’ll mean so much if'n ye do…” The big woman —and bigger man- teared up like babies.
“But Jules? You don’t have children,” Sasha said.
‘Not yet, Cap’n, but we aim to remedy that when we go home,” Jules said with a wink. “It being Beltane and all.”
“Thanks for the warning; I’ll inform the militia,” Sasha said.
“But why would ye do that, Cap’n,” Hans said, with a baffled look on his ruddy face.
“If I didn’t, they’d think the rumbling from your house was an earthquake.”
Hans and Jules almost fell to the ground, they laughed so hard. And when Jules slapped Sasha on her back, the warrior’s teeth rattled.
“It’s good to have you back, Cap’n. Earthquake, oh my Lady but that’s good.”
Sasha and Gale heard them laughing still as they walked on. They met Ona and Sheala, too, who were with their ‘dates’; Ona’s was swarthy and dark-eyed, while Sheala was arm in arm with a blonde haired and blue-eyed man.
“That was weird,” Sasha said, after everyone wished each other warm farewells. It seemed the twins, too, were eager to retire with their dates, to do what comes natural on Beltane.
“What was,” Gale asked, as they wound their way back to the Temple Compound.
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t have thought their dates would look so different.”
“Why?” Gale said. “They are different, why wouldn’t their men be too?”
“Hmm? They’re identical twins, sweetie, so-”
“-But their souls are not; their songs are like night and day.”
“Really?” Sasha laughed. “I am a fool; I’ve always thought of them as the same person doubled. I’ll make a point of getting to know them individually starting tomorrow. Tonight, however, is reserved for getting to know you, Gale.”
The girl blushed, but squeezed Sasha’s hand.
And then, they were there, at Sasha’s flat. As they walked in, Sasha was again reminded of that night, half a year ago, when Tanya didn’t come home — come here.
“You’re sad again,” Gale said.
“I was just thinking of-”
“-Tanya. I know. Listen. I’ve had a glorious time. Thank you. But I should go home now.”
No, no, no! Sasha thought. She wasn’t sure which home the girl meant, her flat, or Home.
“Um, wait, I uh …have a question.”
“Yes?”
Think quick Sasha, the warrior thought. Think of anything, but keep her here.
“That song you sang. You said the words were Tanya’s? I’ve read everything she wrote and I don’t remember it.”
A faraway look came to Gale’s eyes. “It’s something she composed …after.”
After? After what? Her death? And … didn’t Gale say she could hear the soul songs of all? Living or dead? That would mean Gale…
She grabbed the girl and almost shook her.
“You can hear Tanya, can’t you? Can’t you!”
“Yes, I can.”
“What is her soul singing, right now?”
Gale cocked her head once more, like a bird.
“That you are a very stubborn woman, and …that she told you your joy is in …front of you? I don’t know what that means.”
“I do. She’s telling me I am stalling, and get busy.”
“Busy? I don’t-”
Before Gale could utter another sound, Sasha swept her up in her arms in a single movement and carried her to the bed. Where she tossed the girl, and then climbed on top of her.
"I claim you, Gale Nightingale, here and now! This moment! I’m going to cherish and care for you; from now forward we will never part. When you travel the Isle to sing to our people, I will be by your side.”
Gale so wanted to believe Sasha’s words, and the warrior’s soul song filled her with joy, but…
“What of your duties as Captain of the Moon Temple Guard? What of your missions?”
“I have but one mission now; you.”
“You are doing this out of guilt, hey? Or duty, because Meg must have told you I needed to be watched and-”
“I should be punished, for the horrible acts I did to you,” Sasha said. “But no, neither guilt nor duty moves to do this. It is selfeshness. I am taking you for my handfasted mate, for me. We will have Meg perform the ceremony tomorrow.”
“You wish to marry me?” There was awe in Gale’s voice. “Why?”
“Because I love you, you silly bird.”
When the tears rolled from Gale’s eyes, Sasha grew concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Your song. Your song! It’s so beautiful, I-”
Gale raised her lips to Sasha’s, murmuring, “I love you too.”
“Then stay with me. Don’t leave me, Gale. Please.”
Gale knew what Sasha was asking, and it wasn’t about staying the night. It was about Her song. Calling.
“I’ll try love. I will try so hard, and I will stay as long as I can. Will that be enough?”
Sasha wanted years and years with her songbird, but that was not to be, so…
“I’ll take what I can get love, and…” Sasha pulled Gale’s dress over her head and dropped it on the floor. “I will heroically battle the odds by giving you reasons to stay here longer.”
“Heroically battle-?”
Sasha quieted Gale with a long slow kiss. “Tanya taught me a few things, lover, and now I have the pleasure of showing you. Now I am the musician and you are the instrument. I'm going to start here."
Sasha took Gale's earlobe in her mouth and in turns bit and sucked it. She let it go and whispered hotly in Gale's ear.
"...and then …I'm going to slowly slowly work my way all the way down.”
“O Sasha!”
“Say not a word, my love. I’ve caused you great suffering, and now, I will start to make up for it by giving you endless mind blowing orgasms.”
“Orgasms?” Gale’s voice cracked and grew husky, her nipples hardened and her back arched. Sasha ran her finger between Gale’s legs and found her already wet.
“Oh you’re going to be a fun one in bed! We’ll be at this well into the morning. And you won’t be singing to the Goddess.”
Gale blinked. “I won’t?”
“Nope,” Sasha said, “you’ll be moaning to Her.”
“O my Goddess,” Gale growled.
“I think we can do much better than that. Shall we see?”
5.
Meg stood below the Temple compound apartments with an amused smile upon her wrinkled face. She wondered if she looked like a mother duck with little ducklings. That is certainly how she felt, as she and Phyllis led this latest crop of new Temple recruits on a tour of the grounds.
Since the day Gale had sung the doom away, literally hundreds upon hundreds of girls and women had sought to be trained as priests. All of the Moon temples across the island had been inundated - Meg wondered if the Temples of the Sun were seeing the same thing from the men of the island. She guessed they were.
So many new recruits had arrived, even the Arch Priestess had to pitch in with their indoctrination. Meg didn’t mind — the fresh exuberance of the new devotees made her feel young again.
“And these are our living quarters.”
Meg’s hand swept up towards the several storied white granite building, dotted with the hanging plants and banners that some of the priestesses decorated their balconies with.
“Normally they are spacious,” Phyllis added, “but due to the large number of new trainees, we will be putting several to a room.”
“What’s that?” One dew-eyed and white robed trainee asked.
“What’s what?” Phyllis said.
“That!” She pointed to a balcony where a flock of nightingales sat, chirping and singing.
“Oh, perhaps the occupant of that apartment sets birdseed out? I am not sure.”
Which, Meg knew, was a lie, but a white one. The Arch-Priestess was thrilled when she realized Gale stayed with Sasha through the night, but she wanted to protect their privacy. If the novices knew the Goddess’ troubadour lived there, they too would flock to see her. And hear her.
“Are there any more questions before I release you to enjoy our morning meal?” Meg said, as she herded the group back to the main Temple hall.
“Hmm, I still don’t know,” asked a young brown-haired recruit, her eyebrow raised.
Uh-oh Meg thought, the analytical one again. “Know what, dear?”
“You said in the Temple that when we are trained, we will not need to have faith, or believe in the Goddess, because we will have direct knowledge of Her, we will ‘feel’ Her presence.”
“That is true, it is always better to know than to believe you know.”
“But what will that feel like? Can you tell me that? How will I ‘feel?’”
This one had been asking questions like this throughout the tour, as if it were possible to describe the infinite with mere words.
“How will you feel?”
“Yes! Is it good, bad, scary, exciting, what? I really really want to know.”
“O Goddess help me!” Meg said out of habit.
Suddenly a song voice, exploding with lustful passion, pierced the morning air:
“O-H …M-Y …G-O-D-D-E-S-S...”
Meg resisted mightily the urge to grin and look to Sasha’s apartment balcony, where she guessed the cry had come, the one where songbirds gathered.
Instead, Meg looked to the heavens, and with as solemn a face as she could muster, said, “thank you, Lady.”
Meg turned to the now wide-eyed recruit who asked the question. “It is just like that. It is ecstasy.”
The end.
The Last Mission of Captain Catoriel -a Nightingale postscript
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Permission:
Author's note: when I finished The Nightingale some years ago, I promised to add a little more to the story, to tell what happened finally to Sasha. I didn't realize I had let so much time go by before I posted this. This isn't a stand alone story, though. It must be read with The Nightingale to, well, make sense. The song Gale sings is called Dante's Prayer, by Loreena Mckennitt. Listen to it here, it's wonderful. Better yet, have it playing when Gale sings in the story.
The Last Mission of Captain Catoriel
by armond
Yule
1.
"Stupid healers, what do they know?"
She pulled her wool shawl tighter; Goddess but it was cold! But she would not fail in her mission; she would see them one last time.
Sasha shuffled her tired bones as fast as she could. Which was quicker than a turtle. Just.
Thirty more steps and I'll be there.
She was not that old, barely in her sixties. It was the miles not the years. Too many reckless charges. Too many nights sleeping on rock hard ground. Meg warned her of this. She could even hear her words with the old Arch Priestess in her head, its echo a cherished memory of the long dead woman:
"Everything has a price, gel. It rains here, because it doesn't rain there. The farmer who fails to save the harvest in the summer, starves in Winter's wind. If you push yourself beyond reason now, you'll pay for it later, granddaughter."
Sasha remembered smiling craftily at the cranky gray-haired beloved ‘grandmother’ who was the only mother she'd known. The young priestess who gathered up a babe abandoned on the Temple steps, and claimed her as her own without a moments' hesitation.
"But Meg, don't you always say 'let go and let Goddess?"
"Nothing could be truer," Meg had answered, unfazed by Sasha throwing her own words at her. ''Yet She also does not suffer fools."
Sasha remembered her response was a petulant shrug.
"Now it hurts to shrug at all,” she said aloud, before clamping her hand over her own mouth.
Goddess! She did not want to alert the healers and nurses in the infirmary that she’d made a mad dash to the Temple gardens! Sasha stood still as she could and listened. In the distance, below Temple Hill, the Yuletide celebration finished hours ago, and the festival lights were dim; Anuvar was finally at peace.
‘As peaceful as the great city got at this wee hour, anyway,’ Sasha thought. She imagined the occasional reveler or two still combing the market district for one last open tavern, one last wassail bowl, perhaps, but otherwise Anuvar slept.
Closer by, the Temple of the Goddess stood silent. The Yule rituals and chants welcoming the sun’s rebirth had been said and sung. Sasha imagined all the priestesses snug in their beds, and the only sound in the entire grand building of worship would be the hiss of the silver-white altar flames. The pure color it ever burned since Gale sang away their doom those many years ago.
"Ah my Gale," she sighed, "everything has a price indeed."
Sasha rolled her eyes, at herself, for she had spoken aloud again, albeit softly. Listening once more, she heard no sounds from the direction she had come; she reckoned she had a good thirty minutes before the night nurse made her next rounds. Encouraged by the quiet, Sasha resolved to pick up her pace. The healers were sure to order her tied to her bed after this escapade, so she at least ought to make it to the damn garden before they nabbed her.
Soon enough, her hobbles moved her to the bench she sought. The one in front of the fountain at the garden's heart. The one with the statues. She collapsed onto the stone bench, her joints protesting when she did. Still, she smiled happily through her pain, because she was with her girls.
"Tanya! Gale!"
She smiled every time she saw them. No, cried. No, she did both, and laughed at herself in the doing.
For there the stood, Tanya, Sasha's silver haired poet, holding a scroll for Gale to read. And Gale, Sasha's doe-eyed nightingale, with her hand affectionately on Tanya's shoulder, was singing, of course. Singing away floods, sickness, drought and violence. Singing to the Goddess to save their island home.
"They look so lovely," Sasha sighed, with boundless love, pride and loneliness all jumbled together.
Of course, it didn't happen this way at all.
At the hour of doom, Gale, anointed with special oils, and drugged with powerful herbs from the Anatol Isles to alter her perceptions, sang alone before the statute of the Goddess. Sang herself out, and nearly died to save the island.
"Did die, in a way," Sasha reminded herself, "for that which had been Orlando in her died as she slipped into a coma after singing.”
No it didn't happen the way the statues depicted at all. In fact, the only time Tanya had met the 'great' troubadour Orlando, was a crisp Samhain eve, when Tanya was with Sasha. Orlando had stolen a kiss from Sasha and in return she kicked him in the balls.
"Hahaha! Oh Gale! Even after your transformation, I don't think you ever sang as high as when I did that!"
Anuvar's mayor proposed a towering statue of Gale to honor what she had done; it was to be a wonder of the world. Virgin white marble, in the middle of the civic center, hundreds of feet tall, with arms majestically outstretched to the Goddess.
Her little nightingale would have none of that. When Gale saw they were determined to do some foolishness, whether she wished it or no, she told them the Goddess wanted two statues, of her with the Moon Temple's Poet Laureate, Priestess Aeliana. And when the mayor had the temerity to ask why Tanya should be so honored, Sasha still laughed at her lover's response to him:
"Because, ya know, honored Sir, the lyrics came from somewhere. I didn't just fart the words out my ass!"
Sasha shivered with laughter that turned slowly into sobs. Goddess she missed them! Her years with each were the best of her life; glorious love-filled times. But so short! So short!
Slowly her sobs lessened, as the fatigue from 'great escape' overcame her, and soon she softly dosed where she sat.
2.
"Stubborn stubborn Sasha, why do you fight so hard, still? Let go, lover."
Where a moment before was stone, now stood two women, one tall and fair, with silver-blonde hair, the other petite and curvy, with rich black curls, each dressed in the purple Temple robes.
"I hear the people now say 'stubborn as Captain Catoriel,' instead of 'hard headed as a mule,' the second woman said. She to whom birds would flock and sing.
On cue, there was a fluttering of wings, as nightingales filled the barren trees around the fountain.
"Sshh guys," Gale whispered to the birds as she and Tanya climbed from the fountain. "On my signal."
The fluttering stopped and after Tanya and Gale wrung what water they could from the hem of their robes, they sat on the stone bench on either side of the sleeping elderly woman.
"She's still so fierce," Tanya said, "even as her body is failing, her spirit battles on."
"Yes!" Gale answered, “it's like her expression is saying, 'screw you, death,' or something like that."
"And that," giggled Tanya, “is why I write the words instead of you."
Gale stuck out her tongue, and brought her hand to the dosing woman's face. Almost touching it, she first ran a finger along the deep wrinkles and lines etched in Sasha's face, and then gently stroked Sasha’s faded copper hair.
“She's been alone for so long, so long, Tanya.”
“Let's bring her home then,” the poet said. “Time for the nightingale to sing.
Gale gave a nod to the trees, and her birds softly sang. And so did she:
When the dark wood fell before me
And all the paths were overgrown
When the priests of pride say there is no other way
I tilled the sorrows of stone
It was decades since the people of Anuvar heard the her voice, and many now doubted the legend could be true. A single voice could sing away a flood? A plague? The stuff of good stories only.
But this longest night of the year, this night of rebirth, this Yule, they heard. For when Gale sang, she was Her voice. Her purest notes drifted into the dreams of the people throughout the isle. And they were filled with longing. The next day would see the temples of Anuvar full with worshipers spilling onto the streets, and priestesses would hear of the wondrous dreams the people had.
I did not believe because I could not see
Though you came to me in the night
When the dawn seemed forever lost
You showed me your love in the light of the stars
Sasha stirred. Her eyes popped open and her heart sped. For it was Gale! Oh Goddess it was her!
Then the mountain rose before me
By the deep well of desire
From the fountain of forgiveness
Beyond the ice and fire
Sitting beside her, alive! Alive, and singing to her as she had all those many years ago. Sasha tried as hard as she could not to move an inch, for if this was a dream, she wanted nothing to end it. But when she felt a squeeze on her hand, she had to turn to see, and when she did, her mouth dropped open.
Tanya!!!
The silver-haired woman smiled mischievously, gently closed Sasha's gaping mouth with her slender index finger, and turned Sasha's face back to Gale.
Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me
The ocean of souls. The ocean of Her. Sasha remembered.
The night before Gale sang away the disasters that beset Anuvar, Sasha had a dream. It had been many terrible months since Tanya’s death, it was the lowest time of her life, and the famed swordswoman roamed the isle seeking vengeance. Seeking death. Sasha’s heart was stone and her dreams were dead. Yet that night, with her arms wrapped around a shivering Gale, she dreamed. Because her nightingale sang her to sleep.
She dreamed of Tanya, standing with her on a hill by the sea. An infinite horizon of blue.
“We look upon the ocean of Her,” Tanya had said, and Sasha saw a trail of lights, like flickering candles, walking on the white sandy beach into the shimmering water. And Sasha could see it in her face, Tanya longed to join them.
And now, on this Yuletide night, as Gale’s song flowed on, pure and clear, Sasha felt that longing too! O the sea pulled her now!
Breathe life into this feeble heart
Lift this mortal veil of fear
Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears
We'll rise above these earthly cares
Gale’s voice filled Sasha as never before. Years ago, the two traveled to the ends of the isle together, -a glorious time- until the song of the Goddess carried Gale away. And no matter how many times she’d heard her lover sing, Sasha was always enthralled. Yet now, at last she fully understood Gale’s words on their first Beltane together:
“When I sang at the Altar, I was filled with music, with the songs of each and every soul. Not living or dead, all of them. They became a chorus, singing together. Became Her voice. Became Her. It overwhelmed me. Dissolved me. After I returned ...I can still hear the ocean of Her…”
The ocean of Her. Sasha finally, finally heard the Lady calling,
Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me
Please remember me
Please remember me...
As Gale's final notes drifted up into the cold starry Yuletide night, there was profound and utter silence, as the world strained to listen, wanting to hear every single vibration of Her.
Until finally, Tanya, very softly, said, "and that is why you sing the words instead of me."
Sasha dared to breath. "This is a dream?"
"You always ask the same thing," Tanya laughed, "and the answer is always the same. Yes, it's a dream, my stubborn Captain, and it is also more real than anything you've known."
Tanya and Gale then attacked and hugged the bewitched woman, kissing her cheeks, musing her hair. Sasha's tears of loneliness, so long kept in check by the Captain's iron will, flowed.
"But why are you here now? This night?" Sasha tried to piece it together, speaking through hiccupped sobs. "Because you wrote that Yule song, Tanya? For Gale to sing... Because the people needed to hear?"
"I hope they heard. I pray they did..."
Gale’s glistening eyes showed how deep ran her desire to bring souls closer to the Lady. Sasha marveled still at how different Gale was than the old Orlando, who only sang for earthly rewards.
"...but no. This song was just for you, my love."
"Just for me?” Sasha's famous stubbornness stepped front and center then. “Really? And why would that be so?"
"Because it was the only way to break through your stubborn walls and get you to let go," Tanya patted Sasha's knee. "For it is time; one last mission for the legendary Captain Sasha Catoriel of the elite Moon Temple Guard."
“A mission?” Sasha laughed. "As you can see, my mission days are over. This old soldier can barely shuffle to the privy these days."
"Um, Sasha? I don't mean to be bossy, since, ya know, that's your job," Gale giggled, hopping to her feet. She grabbed Sasha's hand and yanked her to her feet. "But I think you'll find you are feeling much better."
Sasha started to groan, anticipating the screaming her joints would surely make. She blinked in surprise when there was none. Looking down, she saw her shawl and infirmary nightgown gone, replaced by her ceremonial Moon Temple Guard uniform, with purple cape flowing behind her and famous saber belted at her side.
Those were the least of her changes. Her body was now the same age as when she and Gale traveled the isle, and her hair was lustrous copper.
"I'm... young again!"
"So no more whining," Tanya said. "Shall we?"
Sasha nodded dreamily and, with Tanya’s arm wrapped around her left elbow, and Gale's around her right. She took a few steps and halted.
"But won't this cause a stir? World famous statues go missing and all that?"
"Oh it will cause a stir," Tanya giggled, "take a look."
Sasha turned back, blinked several times, and then laughed.
"That's perfect!"
Sasha could only gaze a few moments in amusement and wonder, for the longing was too strong. Which gave her a moment's pause.
"I want to fly to the sea, I feel Her call so strongly! How did you, ever come back from that to see me, Tanya, and how did you," Sasha pointed at Gale, "stay with me as long as you did?"
Tanya rolled her eyes, grabbed Sasha's face and kissed her hard. She stepped aside to let Gale cut in, who on tiptoes, wrapped her lips around Sasha's for a long wet kiss. Between the two kisses, Sasha was quickly a hot moaning mess.
“Because, we love you beyond life, beyond death,” Tanya said.
“Your soul sings to us across the veil,” Gale added. “Let's go to Her, lover. Let's see what happens next!”
“Yes!” Sasha's body was already young, but now the world weariness slipped from her soul. Laughing like a child, she grabbed the hands of her lovers and ran. Bright lights skimming over the land, racing to the blue moonlit sea.
3.
Captain Sasha Catoriel of the elite Moon Temple Guard would forever have a place in the stories of Anuvar. Her legendary feats and battles, her famous stubbornness, her bittersweet loves. Yet perhaps it was her passing that would be remembered most of all through the ages. For one night, legend has it, her lovers came from beyond death to take the old captain away. There was no one who witnessed it, true, yet how else to explain what was left when the old woman vanished?
Where once were two stone statues, now were three, for a new statue, Captain Catoriel in battle leathers with saber at her side and braided hair down her back, stood smiling before the figures of the poet and singer.
the end.
asor esse rosa
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
Permission:
asor esse rosa
by armond
The rules of the Challenge were simple: first to grasp the scepter wins the prize, the crown, a queen.
Sir Asor thought it was too simple; it didn't make sense that the King of Sarras was chosen so.
But then the Hags of Anona got into the mix, and everything turned backwards, inside out and upside down.
Pleh! Pleh!
Author's note 1: This is a tiny story, an older one of mine, maybe even a prototype of the themes and characters for my later works. Mostly, it's about fun with words. For there is a riddle for the reader: the title, every place name, every character name (save three) and the five gibberish sentences spoken by the Hags at the time of transformation are all called the same thing. What is it? And the three that are different ...why are they so?
Author's note 2: The Maids sing a Dead Can Dance song - "Fortune Presents Gifts Not According To The Book." I heard the song in my head as I wrote, and you might try it too, by clicking here.
Author's note 3: "esse" is the Latin infinitive verb "to be"
The man raised his silvery sword, with tip pointed down, then drove it into the earth. Sighing, he leaned on its hilt and surveyed the chaos in front of him.
A herd of beefy warriors body-checked one another as they raced up the steep stone ramp. Their curses and grunts bounced off the rock walls of the ancient testing grounds.
Our King is chosen thus?
A month ago, a murder of raggedy crows called the Hags of Anona, flocked to the dying King's court. They proclaimed the rite of Challenge would be held.
He frowned, giving his head and black curls a shake. 'So here we are, cattle herded to slaughter. Where had the days flown? No time to think things through!'
"Sir Asor does not wish to compete? He deems the prize unworthy, perhaps?"
A tenor voice from behind interrupted Asor's watch.
Asor's gaze stayed fixed on the gaggle of men nearing the pavilion's arched entrance. "And you; have you no itch to be King of Sarras, Sir…?"
"Sir Leon, from the northern vale, and I do, um, itch. I reckon I don't have to best this mindless mob; that's your job. I only have to beat you. By the way, why are we standing here, as those cretins move to the tower room and the prize? Come, Sir Asor, the early bird gets the worm."
"We?" Asor's turned gaze to Sir Leon, for something about the man seemed …off. Leon turned away from the hero's blue-eyed stare.
"You are welcome to trot after them, Sir …Leon, you said? True, the early bird does get the worm, but more often, the second mouse gets the cheese."
"What does that me-" Screams from above cut short Leon's words.
The champions had pivoted and now raced back down. The return group was smaller, for a dozen or so stood near the arched door, statue still.
Moments later, twenty flush and sweaty men, gathered before Asor and Leon. The cream of Sarras, braves and heroes all, hung their heads, and …two had wetted themselves.
"You were right, my odd-duck friend," a tall silver-haired man said, "a frontal charge was not the answer."
"With all due respect, Duke Dá¶rrá¶d," Asor said, "surely, our throne won't be won by a simple footrace."
"Damnedest thing! The hideous crones appeared from thin air! Cackling and spitting green drool! And their slightest touch turned men to stone. I doubt even your sword magic could stand against them."
"Sword magic?" Sir Leon asked with a high inflection, "of what do you speak?"
“I'll tell the tale at a calmer time, good sir." The duke said in a dismissive tone, and turned to Asor. "They were serious about the dangers of this arcane contest, eh? Review the rules again, for me, would you Asor?"
Asor smiled, for all knew the duke had the attention span of a fly. "Count Remer is the lore expert, m'lord. Ask him to refresh your memory."
The duke drew his polished sword and pointed to the frozen figures near the pavilion entrance.
"Remer is there, third from the left."
"Ah! Pity,” Asor said, shaking his head. “Very well, but listen this time.
The men gathered close to Asor as he spoke. “So. The first to reach the tower room and grasp the scepter wins the throne. The Hags of Anona act as referee of the test, but they also strive to bar all from reaching the prize. As you saw, they possess dark magic. Once the prize is taken, and Sovereign's Choice is asked, the winner is crowned King of Sarras."
"Sovereign's Choice? Uh, I know Remer mentioned it, but …what was it again?"
Asor exhaled a long sigh. "I wish he were here, for I've questions on this myself. He said Princess Illi will be asked if she wishes to wed the winner. If 'yes' they marry and rule as King and Queen. But if 'no,' the Hags cart her away, never to be seen again and the winner is free to choose his Queen."
"That's easy enough, my friend,” the duke snorted. “if the royal wench says no to bedding me, then she's too stupid to be my queen."
The men chuckled at this, with someone heckling, "but that's hows you likes em, Duke, easy and stupid." More laughed, and Asor still grinned when he continued.
"It's this part that puzzles me, m'lord. By ancient curse of the Hags, no Sarras King has sired a prince, well since men can remember! But there's no logic to when these contests are held. By custom, our princesses wed and bed some nobleman, and that man becomes the next King. Yet every few generations or so, the Hags mysteriously call a Challenge to name a new King. Why? It doesn't add up."
"To give new blood a chance,” Sir Leon barked in a tenor growl. “Are we to talk all day as women, or act like men and storm the tower?”
"Quite right!" the duke said. He drew his sword and swung it back and forth. "Asor, what if all advanced brandishing swords? The Hags must give way even if we can't see 'em."
"My duke, my brother-in-arms, listen to reason. There must be more to winning the kingship than running fast and swinging a chunk of metal. Look…" Asor withdrew his shining sword from the ground. "Only if you brandish your sword like so will such a plan succeed."
Asor drew his sword. He closed his eyes, calling to some well of power deep within. Soon, his sword glowed white hot, causing all to avert their eyes; the air crackled with energy.
"Amazing!" Leon said, his dark eyes widening at the display. "Do you truly know where your magic comes from?"
"That is not important," Asor said, as he sheathed his sword, extinguishing its blinding light.
In truth, he had no idea how his 'sword magic' worked. His will called and it flowed. At such times, the power surging through him into his sword tip felt so right, so good. Yet this special 'talent' kept folk at bay, casting Asor as an outsider, or 'odd-duck' as the duke called him, all his lonely days.
"…what is important is unless you, any of you, can also do this, we stand no chance against the Hags. My sword's light may repel the Hags; yet it alone cannot overcome these cunning sorceresses."
"You're trying to scare us away so you'll have no rivals," a voice from the crowd yelled. Mutterings of 'he's right,' and 'a warlock's trick,' came from the warriors as they stepped aside to reveal Asor's accuser.
Asor leaned forward to stare on a slight auburn-haired knight. He seemed …somehow …insubstantial? "I'm not sure I remember you with us at the beginning of the Challenge, Sir…?"
*ahem* "Sir Arramas," the knight said. He fidgeted with the embroidered collar of his tunic, and looked away from Asor's gaze. "I was late to the Challenge and just at the back when the gates were closed."
"Fine, good knight. If I lead us astray, then what plan do you offer to breach the entrance and gain the inner courtyard?"
"Well, um, I say, we don't need your showy magic to best a few crusty bitches. Instead, we walk as men, in tight phalanx formation, swinging our swords like the good Duke said. That way, we'll overwhelm them. They can't get us all; some must reach the prize."
"Yes!" Sir Leon joined with his boyish voice, "there we'll scatter and outrun the old Hags. One of us must win through."
"Teamwork!” The duke smacked his leather-gloved fist into his other palm. “By the gods, I like it! Comrades, let's link and have another go!"
The duke started barking orders and soon a phalanx formed. Asor shook his head as the men marched back up the stone ramp.
If they refuse to think, perhaps they can divert the Hags for a while?
He joined the phalanx at the rear, but peeled away as his row reached the base of the ramp, turning to study the most formidable parapet of the fortress's outer walls. Something deep inside him said 'attack there.'
When the hair-raising screams and cackles of the Hags started anew, Asor sprinted to the parapet. Though the rock surface was polished smooth, his strange power surged through him and he started bounding up the rock face of the ancient structure, foothold to handhold to foothold. Soon, Asor stood atop the 'unassailable' rampart.
From that perch, he looked down on the inner courtyard entrance below and saw…
…nothing moving.
Everywhere men stood frozen in different stances: some with fear, other, shock and surprise frozen on their faces. Asor's stomach churned when he spotted the statued duke, with sword held high.
At least he looks heroic.
From what Count Remer told him, their only hope was for Asor to win the prize; once scepter is grasped, all are released from the Hags' magic.
Asor looked for the Hags, but the courtyard was empty of sound and movement. He then noticed a ledge, intended for archers, which ran along the inner pavilion walls and beneath the window of the tower where the scepter rested. Luck was with him, for he would not have to cross the courtyard and risk meeting the loathsome Hags.
As he neared the tower window, Asor heard voices. Peering over the windowsill, he beheld the scepter, resting on a stone dais in the centre of the chamber.
Two rods, one gold, the other silver, formed a / shape. At the crown of the / sat a jeweled orb, circled by rubies, sapphires and diamonds. Atop the orb perched back-to-back figurines, a golden crowned man raising a sword, a silver crowned woman holding a cup. A white glow pulsed from the mysterious object.
Seated next to the dais was a woman with hair black as night, dressed in a long purple robe. Her eyes were downcast, and she trembled.
Princess Illi! So much prettier than the bard songs painted her.
Asor pulled his eyes from the princess to survey the tower chamber. About the room stood the Hags, visible, Asor noted with a sigh of relief. They were twins of each other, with rags for clothes, greasy gray hair, missing teeth, and wrinkled stretched skin over bony arms and legs.
He counted six.
Think, Asor! There were more of them, yes?
At the opening ceremony, he was sure he'd seen eight. Yet …Remer called it the Legend of the Nine Hags of Anona …so where were the others?
Asor heard voices speaking from across the Chamber and strained to see the speakers.
Two knights moved into view; …Sir Leon and …Sir Arramas? Had either won the prize? What was happening here?
Asor caught snips of words…
“-your job to watch him -” “-sword magic is trouble-”
…but sensed frustration from the Hags and the knights, and worry, for their eyes were fixed on the doorway at the end of the chamber.
Which gives me my opening. Dá¶rrá¶d would be proud of me for the ridiculous attack plan I've hatched.
With an adrenaline surge, he vaulted through the window, and hit the stone floor running. Before a head could turn, Asor crossed the chamber to the stone dais. He grasped the golden rod of the scepter.
“I claim the prize!”
His eyes widened as jolting energy from the object raced down his arm into his body.
“Well done, Sir Knight, the prize is yours!”
Asor sensed the Hags, the princess and Sir Leon and Sir Arramas had gathered around him, though he could not move, for the power of the scepter held him frozen.
“Princess Illi, our champion is here,” said a cackling voice. “It is the time for Sovereign's Choice. Grasp the silver arm!”
Together, the Hags started shaking, wailing, tearing their rags and shouting gibberish, like a chorus from an eastern isle tragedy:
“Name no one man...”
“O, stone, be not so...”
"Able was I, ere I saw Elba..."
“Never odd or even...”
“We few, we few...”
Though Asor read fear on Illi's face as she reached for the silver rod, he could only marvel at her beauty:
Silky black hair that glimmered of moonlight, skin fair as snow, smooth and rose-velvet soft, spring green eyes that opened to meet his. Truly a prize!
Asor's heart ached for Illi to choose to be his Queen.
When her slender hand grasped the silver arm, blinding light exploded, then-
“The princess has failed the test. Sir Asor, did you hear me?”
He blinked several times to shake the white image that branded his eyes, his mind even; thinking was so hard.
“I…” the glow faded and he saw the princess collapsed on the floor. “It is a shame…”
“She was not worthy. We shall remove her from your sight.”
Several Hags lifted the unconscious girl and carried her away.
“You have much to do, O champion of Sarras; a coronation to plan and a kingdom to rule. We depart!”
The Hags melted away as Duke Dá¶rrá¶d, and the rest of the now unfrozen men, burst into the chamber.
“What? Ahhhh! Asor! Good show, you've done it! My liege!”
The duke dropped to one knee. All did so, then as one, they stood, raised their swords, and shouted:
“Long live Asor! Long live the King.”
Fortune presents gifts not according to the book,
Fortune presents gifts not according to the book…
Gentle ascending and descending arpeggios of soprano voice and lute strings, rang out over the green expanse that is the Senones Gap.
When you expect whistles it's flutes,
When you expect flutes it's whistles…
A long gypsy wagon creaked along a rutted path; a banner hung from its side. In large letters:
THE FABULOUS MAIDS OF GLENELG!
Below, in medium-sized print:
Muses for Hire!
Further below, in small font:
Reasonable Prices, Inquire Within
The wooden spoke wheels of the garish wagon groaned as they rolled over a rock. The song cut off.
“-hey! Emme! Watch it! Didn't you see that boulder?”
“Course I saw it, I hit it, didn't I?” The flax haired driver called back into the long wagon, flashing a half smile as she did. “It was a rock and not a boulder, if you want to get technical. Not even that, Hannah, more like an overgrown pebble.”
A auburn-haired woman with lute in hand leaned out of the canvas curtain behind Emme.
“Well, try aiming for the places without overgrown pebbles then, dear, your last bump woke our little princess.”
Hannah turned when a voice from the back of the rainbow painted wagon called something.
“What? …O my Lady! Samarra says our princess has spoken her first words. What'd she say?”
Emme heard a muffled response. Their 'guest' had not uttered a peep since they left Sarras, two days ago. She drifted in and out of consciousness during the journey; understandable, given all that had happened to her. Emme was certain the girl's first words would be profound.
“So? This I gotta hear…what'd she say, Hannah?”
Hannah was grinning. “She has to piss.”
Emme reined the four-horse team to a halt.
“Ooo, this is gonna be good,” Hannah said.
“Give her a break,” Emme said. “It will be hard enough for her without eight raunchy wenches turning her peeing into a sport.”
Soon, a black-haired woman, barefoot and dressed in brown breeches and tunic, moved with purpose from the wagon to a clump of scrub oaks. A rope hung from her neck, its end disappearing into the wagon. Several grinning faces peeped out the wagon's back.
After some moments, a cheerful voice called, “all done, sweet ums? Time's up!”
A hard tug on the rope made the girl yelped. “Stop it! I'm …I'm done …I think…”
As she walked to the wagon, she staggered forward and had to straighten her back every few steps.
Another tug yanked her into the wagon; she threw her legs over and tumbled in. Once Emme saw the girl was back, she shook reins, and the old carriage lurched forward.
“Did everything come out okay, Princess?” A voice inside the wagon called, followed by muffled snickers.
“Oh my, her face has turned red, like a rose in bloom …hey! Since our little princess needs a new name, let's call her Rosa.”
“Rosa? How beautiful…” answered a second.
“It's perfect…” “I like, I like...” “Brilliant!” “Our little Rosa,” other voices chimed in.
“I'm …ASOR, not anyone's Rosa …who ARE you people? ”
“Asor? You are the King of Sarras? Noel, Samarra, you saw him up close, could Rosa be our new king in disguise?”
“Mmmm, A-sor,” a voice answered, “the way his curly hair lay on his face was so cute. And when he smiled, he had the dreamiest dimples.”
“And how 'bout that butt? Like a stallion!” Another voice said. “Sorry to break this to you, hun, but Asor you ain't.”
“Why have you done this to me?”
“Aw poor little Rosa, awakens to find she's been sold as a slave to a gang of gypsy girls,” a voice said.
“Or how 'bout a gang of traveling whores and she's the new girl to be trained,” said a second.
“No, wait!” Said a third, “a gang of marauding dancing gypsy whores-“
“Leave her alone.” Emme yelled back. “By the Lady, you're all pigs,”
Immediately assorted pig snorts and giggles came from the back of the wagon.
Emme rolled her eyes. “Ignore them, Rosa. We stop for supper soon, and after that we'll explain everything.”
Later, at camp, when the stew pot was cleaned and oiled and the red wine passed around the campfire circle one last time, Emme stood. She looked to the western horizon to see the setting sun had paused for a last look at the earth before he traveled to the underworld. Emme's hair shimmered golden red in his rays.
Looking to the east, Emme saw a rising full moon had stopped for a moment just above the horizon; calling hello to her golden brother.
“Ladies, it's time,” Emme said and went to draw a silver bowl from a canvas backpack next to the wagon. Ardra, Ele'ele, would you gather the sage?
Two women, one a dark-eyed, olive-skinned lass from the eastern isles, the other, a platinum-haired, fair-skinned maid of the northern fjords, rose from the circle and walked into the green prairie grasses.
“Samarra, would you take the rope off our guest? Rosa, you won't cause trouble, yes?”
The dark-haired woman blinked. “Where would I go? Out here? Like …this?” She motioned to her body with a hand.
Emme nodded to the fair-skinned woman. “All right, Samarra.”
The woman loosened the rope knot and removed the loop over the girl's head. “Sorry, hun, let me fix that.” She touched the girl's neck where it showed red from the rope, and it faded. The girl touched her neck.
“How …what …did you do?”
“Patience, Rosa, you'll know in a moment.” Samarra answered, sitting down next to her.
Ardra and Ele'ele returned with sagebrush in hand and placed it on the glowing coals of the fire. They joined the rest of the women seated round the crackling fire.
When the incense smoke of the sage drifted over the circle, Emme held the bowl to the rising moon.
“I am your vessel, Lady. Fill my soul that I may serve.”
The bowl glowed silver white, and Emme brought it to her lips to drink. A silver white glow suddenly outlined her body. She passed the bowl to the woman to her side.
I am your vessel, Lady…
From woman to woman, it passed, until eight glowing lights bounded the circle. One space remained to finish it. Samarra passed the bowl to the lass, whose eyes were frozen wide.
“I …I can't do this…”
“Just take the bowl and try, love. See what happens!”
She took the bowl and, haltingly, held it to the shining moon.
“I …I am your…your…” she didn't know what to say; she closed her eyes.
Help me please …Lady?
She brought the cool metal bowl to her lips, and drank: energy flowed from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, energy like the sword magic she called when she was Asor, but so much stronger. A burning heat of countless torches, but a gentle coolness too, that gave awareness beyond body and senses.
She opened her eyes to see her body surrounded by silver light. The other women stood holding hands; Samarra smiled, “Come, sister.”
Linking hands, left and right, she finished the circle and circuit. Voices sang to her in her soul, and she knew them, knew them all: motherly Emme, mischievous Hannah and exotic Ele'ele. Healer Samarra, sensual Ardra and Mariram, queen of the dance. Mystical Eve and romantic Noel.
Together they strarted a ring-dance, feet stamping intricate patterns and paths, of twisting and turning, ducking and whirling.
Then, their combined spirit rose and flew, high in the night sky and deep in warm earth. To aerie crags of mountain and still blue valleys of the sea.
And if some child, by chance looking up at brightening moon, had cried to her mother 'Mum, I see faeries playing on the moon,' who could deny it?
Then, as one, the maids let go their hands, and fell to the ground, laughing and giggling.
Sparkling light streams shot into the starry night, and eight stars of the constellation Crater flared, followed by a ninth star, blazing bright. Together, they outlined the celestial Cup in silver.
After a time, Emme lifted her body up on her elbows and looked to the dark-haired woman.
“Well done, Rosa! Do you understand now?”
“You …all have the same, um ...magic, as I, only …only…”
“Only what, dear,” Emme asked.
“It never felt like that before. Whenever I would call the sword magic, it was so intense and concentrated. This time, what we did, it tingled throughout my body, wave after wave.” Rosa closed her eyes and sighed. “It was wonderful.”
She cocked an eye open. “Hang on! You …you six…are the Hags. And you,” Rosa looked at Noel and Sammara. “You were Sir Leon and Sir Arammas! I know it! I've seen it in your minds. It was …all a set up, wasn't it? There was no 'prize!'”
“Oh she's a fast one, she is,” Noel said in the tenor voice of Leon.
“Our Rosa's a genius; almost figured it out, she did,” Sammara answered in the boyish voice of Arramas.
“Almost?” Rosa asked.
“It was a set up, tis true,” Hannah said, “but there was a prize …twas you!”
“Me? I don't under-” Rosa looked at the eight grinning faces. Nine Hags of Anona, Remer had said. Nine.
“I'm to be a… a Hag of Anona?”
“We prefer to call ourselves the Maids of Glenelg when we are not on official business,” Noel answered. “All that cackling and screaming is hard on the throat. You'll know what I mean when first you take on the aspect.”
“Your official business? What do you mean?” Rosa asked.
“Our business, dear, and you tell us,” Eve said. She knelt where Rosa still lay. The other women crowded round Rosa as well.
“Call to your power,” Eve said; her oval eyes pools of night. “Call it as you called your sword magic, and see what it tells.”
Rosa closed her eyes. Images swirled to her mind at her slightest will. “In the southern most desert town of Ak'ka, a baby boy is born with a club foot,” she spoke in a faraway voice. “If healed, he grows to be a great warrior, protecting the folk from nomad raiders.”
“In the eastern fishing village of Okonoko,” she droned, “a young woman struggles. Her father wishes her to wed a local fisherman. But if she goes to the artisans' school of Capac, she will weave wondrous tapestries.”
Rosa's eyes blinked open. “How do I know these things?”
“This is what we do, Rosa, our 'official business',” Emme answered. “Sunlight and starlight. Mighty kings to rule our people, and hidden priestesses to guide them along the Lady's way. We nine are the secret priestesses, the underground well. And so we go, first to Ak'ka, then to Okonoko, then somewhere else after that. The Lady will tell us where and when.”
“But why me? Were you all men once too?”
“No Rosa,” Hannah said. She twirled one of Rosa's black locks with a finger. “Only you were so cursed.” The eight burst into laughter.
“Never mind her,” Emme said. “We, as you, were born with the talent, and like you, it separated us from our peers. When we came of age, the Hags appeared at our homes to spirit us away. Our families were more relieved than saddened, for our abilities unnerved them.”
Ardra caressed Rosa's face with her olive-skinned hand. “It works this way, love: when one of us journeys on to the Lady's bosom, another appears in the land to take her place.”
“Yet every so many generations,” Ele'ele continued in her thick desert accent, “a man is born whose soul holds the starlight power; the Lady knows why. To get him to join us, we call a Challenge, guide the bewildered soul so he reaches the scepter, and pull the switch.”
“It's a scam that's worked forever.” Noel said. “You're the first we know of that actually won the contest fairly.”
“But why all this trickery? Why not just let me join you as I was?”
“You'd have joined us? Oh my!” Hannah held her had to her mouth in mock surprise. “Perhaps I misjudged you. The great hero Asor would have chucked it all to join a pack of lewd women that dance and sing in public for coin-“
“Well, uh-“
“-and sometimes disguise themselves as drooling mad old bats?” Hannah continued.
“Er, no, I mean-”
“Of course you wouldn't, what male would? Don't be silly. Anyway, the magic works best with a woman's body, though, again, the Lady knows why.”
Rosa stood now. “But how will this remain a secret? Won't Princess Illi …who's in my body I suppose …tell all?”
“No, love,” Emme answered, smiling, “that's the simple beauty of it. She thinks she's you. She has all your memories and none of her own.”
“But that's unfair to her, isn't it? To lose her memories, her life…”
“Worry not of her,” Hannah said, “Old King Bacab treated her like an infant, barely letting her wipe her own arse. She was born a helpless princess and now rules as powerful King, master of her destiny. In her soul, she's as happy as a clam.”
Hannah gave Rosa's cheek a playful slap. “Can you deny this, sweet ums? Look into you soul and tell us this is not right.”
Rosa sighed long, and then looked into each of their eyes “I've felt the power …read your hearts …I cannot deny it. But this …this body …is so …so…”
Emme put a finger to Rosa's lips. “You're not alone anymore, dear. You've eight sisters to guide you, to torment you and to love you. We will show you what you need to know.”
“We'll teach you the Dance,” Mariram said.
“And the prayers of the Lady,” Eve said.
“To shape shift,” said Ele'ele
“To heal,” said Samarra.
“To dress,” said Noel.
“To pamper that lovely body,” added Ardra.
“To sing,” said Emme
“To roll in the hay with some lusty lad, and let him work his sword magic on you,” said Hannah, clapping her hands together and smiling an impish grin. “Oooo, this is going to be so much fun!”
'Fortune is strange,' Rosa thought, 'to seek a crown and win a family instead. A worthy prize indeed!'
“My thanks, sisters. Be patient with me, for I've much to learn,” Rosa said, as her eyes filled with tears, She looked then at Hannah and flashed a mischievous smile of her own. “Yet I have knowledge to teach too: any sister playing me for a fool will learn that, whether I'm Asor or Rosa, I can still kick her scrawny butt.”
They laughed and hugged and kissed her, all at once, and Emme, whispering close to Rosa's ear, said,
“You'll do just fine, Rosa, welcome home.”
