Winds That Will Be — Aedan's Journal
"All Debts Must Be Paid"
Aedan's Journal. Session 12-01-01.
© 2003 Todd Worrell
I wandered the hallowed halls of the castle and tried to stop myself from whistling a dirge. I failed. There were fewer servants about than I expected, so my music echoed ominously down the empty stone corridors. After perhaps twenty minutes of this I realized that everyone must have been avoiding me. They could hear my sad tune and were smart enough to be elsewhere.
It probably didn't help that I was sharpening my dagger on a whetstone at the same time. Oh well. It made a nice rhythm for my gloomy tune and helped me think.
Death. So much death. Who would die next? It wasn't a rhetorical question. I had to admit that by accepting the Tower's quest to remake everything there was a possibility that I might die as well. Given my superior combat skills, the overwhelming power of Grayswandir, and the element of surprise, it seemed unlikely.
I would have a great deal of explaining to do, though, to whomever survived. My part in opening the Way would likely be well known. Perhaps I should begin preparing my reasons. I resolved to start my pre-emptive explanations with my mother.
She wasn't in her chamber. Brielle had no idea where she had gone or how long it would be before she returned. I sat in her front room and chewed my lip, wondering what I should do. Eventually, I decided to write a note. Twenty minutes later, I decided what it would say.
"I love you. —Aedan." I left the folded paper on her dressing table. Short and to the point, it wasn't much, but I hoped it was enough.* * *
Her name was Davhna but I called her Silk. I told people it was because of her lustrous chestnut hair, but she and I both smiled secretly at that. When she smiled, her blue eyes lit up and sparkled like brilliant, clear sapphires. Her father was the master mason for Caer Draal, so she regularly took lessons with Variga when I did. She was quick with a laugh or a hug. By the time I had seen fifteen summers, I was eager to have both.
She called me Daydin, a child's joke on my name. It had bothered me when we were little; when we were teenagers and she said it, it was the most beautiful sound in the world.
One lazy summer afternoon, I returned to my rooms and saw the yellow scrap of paper on my pillow.
I stole a skiff and met Davhna at her family's dock. She was hiding in the shadow of the boathouse, but scurried along the walkway as I guided the little boat up to her. She had bound her hair in a black scarf. I cast her the line and held out a hand to steady her.
"Variga loaned you her boat?" Silk carefully set one foot, then the other into the skiff.
"Almost," I smiled. "I borrowed it."
"You stole it?" Silk shifted too quickly and the boat rocked. We both sat and regained our balance.
"No, I'll give it back."
"But that's crazy! She'll punish us."
"Yeah, but sometimes you gotta do something crazy. Besides," I looked her over appraisingly. "It was worth it."
She waved away my compliment with a rude noise, but failed to hide a half-smile.
"If you aren't afraid of being recognized, why are you wearing a hat?" she asked.
"Uh," I stammered, pulling my black cap lower on my head to hide my unruly hair. Silk punched me playfully in the arm.
"You're crazy," she grinned happily. "And it's a good thing."
I sailed us slowly across the water toward the Bone Orchard. The smell of salt water and the cries of seabirds punctuated a pleasant little voyage. An hour later, we arrived. Davhna and I dragged the little boat up past the high tide mark on the sand and hid it in the low bushes. I pulled out our cloaks and draped them over the basket of food, hidden somewhat from her sight.
"What do you got there?" Silk asked coquettishly, her hands tucked behind her, neck craning sideways to see.
"Never you mind," I said, and shooed her on up the hills and over the grassy patches until we heard the low whistling and the tops of the skeletal trees came into view. Silk looked a question at me, but I only smiled in feigned innocence and skipped ahead of her. She ran to catch up and we were over the lip of grass and among the bare, pale white trees.
"What a spooky place," she stopped and stretched, bending forward in a most attractive pose. "I think I like it."
"Mmmm," I agreed. She stood quickly and caught me. Her laugh burst forth like sudden lightning, bright and thunderous.
"Is it haunted?"
"Yes," I nodded sagely and took her hand. I led her down into the heart of the orchard. "By a most curious phantom. It climbs the trees and causes them to bend in the breeze. The locals hear its song late in the night and marvel at its intricate beauty."
She eyed my wooden flute poking out of the mass of cloaks.
"Right." Davhna crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one foot. She gave me that look.
"You wound me, my lady," I placed my hand on my chest in mock indignation. "I myself have seen this ghost."
"In the mirror?"
"Mayhap," I couldn't keep a straight face any longer. We both laughed aloud. A minute later I set my bundle down on a soft patch of ground sheltered by Old Man Tree.
"My sweet Silk, I give you…lunch!" With a flourish I tore the cloaks off the picnic basket, revealing the elaborate meal I had prepared.
"Yum," she said and sat down. I sat as close to her as I could. We fed each other sticky rolls and jam, juicy blood oranges, tender slices of turkey dipped in sour mustard, and fat purple grapes, one by one.
Later, we rolled in the tall grass. Even later, naked and entangled in each other's arms, we watched the wind carry my hat away as the tree branches creaked and bent. Apparently Old Man Tree charged for his shelter. I kept an eye out for years, but I never found that hat.* * *
Keep silent, Caine had said, until you have the answers, but he was wrong. His life had been spent in isolation, far from the councils of the powerful. He didn't share what he knew with them, and they acted likewise. I knew that something big was going to happen, some monumental event that would reshape the multiverse. I might not be around afterwards to explain. It seemed a wise precaution to let someone know what I knew.
Martin wasn't in his rooms, however. He had gone to visit Julian. I walked the halls to the door of Gregory's father's chambers with a strange sense of dread. Julian had been dead; his being alive was wrong.
I was admitted into the outer room by a pale and haggard old manservant. Gerard paced back and forth. Newly cut spruce and juniper branches failed to cover the stink of too many sweaty men in a small, enclosed place. I glanced at the window. Gerard saw my look and shook his head.
"He says it's too cold," he said, indicating Julian with a sideways nod of his head. I could hear Martin and Julian's voices through the closed bedroom door.
"How is he doing?" I asked.
"He's alive," Gerard said. We both were silent a moment, absorbing that fact. "What news?"
"Bleys is dead," I told him. "Gabriel and I found him in Fiona's lab. It looks like an experiment went wrong. His body was charred almost beyond recognition." I didn't mention what I had seen in Tir na nog'th. I knew Gregory had slain Bleys, but I had no proof. Even if I had, I wouldn't have mentioned it to Gerard. I needed Gregory to help me open the Door.
"That's bad news. Our family has avoided death's clutches for so many years, but now it seems to have found us." Gerard shook his head sadly. "Tell me the details."
I did, including my trip to the City in the Sky. However, I omitted the details that implicated Gregory and the connection between Julian's return and Bleys' death. Gerard told me that the storm Leviathan had caused had damaged Rebma severely. I asked after Caine and was told that no one had heard from him in days.
Gerard thought that Martin and Julian were going to be talking for a few hours. I took the hint and said goodbye.
Alone in the hallway, I took out my trump deck. Magni didn't answer. Neither did Deirdre. I shuffled through the rest of the deck. Caine didn't answer either, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He rarely answered.
Once in my rooms I kicked off my shoes and stretched out on my bed. Things were moving quickly, now that the Tower was free. What was she doing, exactly? She wanted more power to fight Eve. How did she gain power? Followers. I was one. Magni had accepted her offer at first, but later refused it somehow. Gabriel was untrustworthy. Giselle was too flighty to take a side. Raj was sworn to Eve. That left Gregory. I nodded to myself. Yes, I would take Gregory to the Tower. Ostensibly it would be so he could speak with her and learn more, but secretly I hoped he would accept one of her gifts and join me.
However, Gregory didn't answer my trump call. I decided to try Giselle in hopes that she knew our cousin's whereabouts.
Giselle answered, naked and very blonde. She was taking a shower in water and something else. I felt the creepy sensation of Logrus crawling through the contact.
"I haven't seen Gregory," she said, obliviously scrubbing her armpit with a soapy sea urchin. "But if I hear from him I'll tell him you're looking for him."
"Thank you," I said, and would have cut the connection. Giselle stopped me.
"Aedan, wait." She rinsed and shook her hair. "I lost my trump deck. Do you have a spare?"
"No," I said. "But I have an extra one of myself you may borrow." I passed her the card. It shivered slightly as it passed through the contact.
"Thanks!" She giggled and jiggled in the right places. "Bye."
I lay back and put my hands behind my head. A thousand thoughts were racing around my brain. I started to sift through them, one by one, but the next thing I knew I was waking up with a crick in my neck.
It was still light outside, although the sun was getting low in the sky. I hadn't been asleep more than a few hours. I stood up and rocked back and forth on my feet. I put on my short jacket and scuttled down to the kitchens.
Elissa shook her finger at me but gave me a heaping plate of fried potatoes, a half dozen rolls with jam, and a pile of bacon. I washed it all down with a pitcher of apple juice.
I went to the Royal Chambers, but the guards informed me that Martin hadn't returned yet. I decided that it was a fine time to double-check security in the castle. That took nearly an hour. I learned that Martin had called up the reserves, so there were guards all over the castle. The wards that Bleys and I had created were still active. I strengthened them and altered them slightly, just in case.
I had finished the last ward and was standing in the Western Gardens when I felt a tingle in my brain. Giselle was calling me.
She was dressed in a high-necked pale blue ball gown that looked utterly impractical. At her request, I brought her through to Amber. We sat in the gazebo and watched the sun sink beneath the waves. An orange glow spread across the sky as the winds picked up off the ocean.
Giselle was quiet for perhaps thirty seconds before she began fidgeting. Ten seconds later, she turned to me.
"Aedan, aren't your feet cold?" I looked down. My feet were bare, toes twinkling in the evening air.
"Uh," I said.
"It is still summer, but the weather's changing. The nights are getting colder."
"I hadn't even noticed."
"I wonder if we'll see another winter." She sighed and looked wistfully across the sea. Her pale face and golden hair were set aflame in the waning sunlight. It was just like something out of a storybook except that I felt absolutely no compulsion to kiss her.
"I don't know," I said. "Things are happening. The Sisters are on the move."
"You're right but you're wrong. The Sisters are the old goddesses: the Serpent, the Unicorn, Ygg. The new goddesses are called something else."
"What?"
"I have no idea." She sighed again. "They're all so mysterious and uncommunicative."
"The Tower would talk to you, if you let her."
She gave me a look.
"I know she would," Giselle said, "but that's not the problem. The problem is that I would listen to her."
"That's bad?"
"It could be horrible. Oh," she grabbed my hand. "Have you seen the Seraph lately?"
"No."
"I need to talk to her. How did you contact the Seraph before?"
"I didn't. Gabriel did. He drew a Trump of it."
"Oh, just a moment." She scooted aside on the bench and trumped Gabriel. I sat and stared at the reddening sky. A minute or an hour later, Giselle scooted back and nudged me.
"What do you think the Seraph's purpose is?"
"It said it was a servant," I said. "But now it is free."
"She survived the Abyss, and she will survive what comes next. She said something like 'Be the end and the beginning,' but I didn't know if she meant herself, me, or something else. I didn't like her. You can have her."
"Thanks, but I'll pass." I said. I wondered how much Giselle knew about my involvement with the Tower. I didn't need to worry, though, as she apparently hadn't noticed my reaction. In fact, Giselle was still talking.
"…she said she could save the Fey realms, and she showed me an image frozen in time."
"Stasis could be considered salvation to it."
"Well, not to me. In fact, I think we should use the Seraph to combat the others. She is the ultimate warrior."
I didn't say anything, waiting, knowing she didn't need prompting.
"You are marked by her," she continued. "Perhaps you could compel her using the spikard. She's the weakest of the new ones."
If that were true, how did she expect it to combat Eve, Leviathan, and the Tower? I thought. Logic wasn't Giselle's strongest suit.
"Have you tried to compel the Seraph?"
"I would try, but it's not my time. The Fey cycle turns slowly. It's not spring yet. I'm not a creature of war, death, or cold. I am all but useless in her spheres."
"Well," I said, "I have no fine control over the spikard. The best I could hope for would be to destroy the Seraph with massive power."
"No, don't do that. I don't think they can be destroyed." She unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it open to show me the space between her breasts. It was bare of scars and not much of a thrill after her earlier display via trump from the Chaosian shower.
"My scars are gone. I have rejected the Seraph's gifts. She has no hold over me any more." Giselle closed and buttoned her blouse. "Do you still have the scars it gave you?"
I looked at my hand. There were lines there, faint but still scars. I showed Giselle.
"What about on your chest?"
I unbuttoned my shirt and she looked.
"Yes," she rubbed the mark over my sternum. "It's hard to see against your pale skin, but it's there."
"It is worth considering," I said, "but I would like to exhaust our other options before I pit myself against the Seraph."
"I agree."
"But whatever happens, things won't be the same around here."
"They've already changed so much, with Random's death, Finnvarra's decline and Merlin's ascension."
"I am thinking of change on a much larger scale," I said. "Universal. Cosmic."
"Oh," she said and tilted her head in thought.
"It's going to happen with or without us. I wish to have some say in the outcome."
"Me, too."
"It will happen soon, cousin." I took her hand gently and looked into her eyes. "The new goddesses are preparing."
"Yes. It is only a matter of time. The world cannot be forever being born; but it should not be allowed to forever die, either." She turned her head and stared into the distance. "I am waiting for a birth. That sings to me. I am a maker of things. It's what I love best in myself. I cannot fight these goddesses as they need to be fought. I must stay true to my nature."
"I can respect that."
We sat in silence, then, as the last rays of the sun crept back across the sky. I gave Giselle my trump of Flora. I didn't think I would ever need it again.
Back in the castle, I heard familiar voices in the Great Hall. Raj was there with an elderly woman dressed in long yellow robes, her head partly covered by a beaded shawl. Raj introduced her as Sunset. I kissed her outstretched hand. She smiled, apparently greatly amused.
"You don't remember me," she said.
I thought about it. The shawl looked like something I had seen before.
"You are from Osric's realm." I guessed.
"Yes," she nodded. "He needed watching."
At this point Gregory and Gabriel approached. Gabriel was wearing the same clothing he had been wearing for the past couple days. Gregory was fully armored, but his appearance was notably different. His father's white armor had turned a smoky black all over. His eyes were solid darkness, a curious void.
"Aedan," Gregory said, "I want to speak with the Tower."
All to the good, I thought. Perhaps She would be able to cleanse him of this stain, or at least use him to further our cause.
We agreed to ride out immediately, but then Gabriel and Sunset convinced Gregory to try something else first. I said I would begin riding and Gregory could call me on the road.
I said my goodbyes and went to the stables.* * *
Once past the last of the fields, Variga always let us race the horses to the tree line. I usually let Davhna win, but on this day I got in front of her and pulled up short. We were only a few hundred yards into the grassy hills. My gray gelding blocked the path. Her big-chested bay complained loudly as she suddenly reined him in. Davhna's long, auburn braid whipped into her face as she stopped.
"Hey!" Silk said angrily. "What are you doing?"
"I want to talk," I explained. She groaned and glanced behind us, but we both knew that Variga never brought her old mare above a slow trot. We were alone. Silk eased up next to me and we let the horses walk.
"More philosophy?" She tossed her hair back, shepherding a few reluctant strands away from her freckled face. "Can't we talk about something practical for once?"
"Ideas are practical," I said. "They simply need to be applied correctly."
"This is about the church again, isn't it?"
"Not at all," I lied. "I'm speaking on a much larger scope."
"You just want the school taken away from the church."
"Yes, I do feel that way, but that's not what I'm talking about now."
"Right." Davhna smirked at me.
"I'm talking about the state of the universe."
"You want to change the way Variga teaches. Admit it."
I gave up pretending and waved my arms in the air, exasperated
"She only teaches that way because that's the way it was taught to her a hundred years ago."
"So what's wrong with that?"
"Things need to change," I said. "Try something new."
"Why? What's wrong with how they are now?"
"Nothing, or maybe something. How would we know? But that's not the point. Change is a good thing in and of itself. We need more of it around here."
"Just because you're bored is no reason—"
"You're missing the point!" I exclaimed. I stopped my horse and grabbed Davhna's reins to stop hers too. "Everything changes. It's only a question of when it takes effect and how you react to it."
"Daydin, you only have three months until you graduate. Or do you want to stay in school for another year and experience these radical changes of yours?" She jerked her reins out of my hand and prompted her horse to continue walking. My gray followed. Over the next hill I could see the start of the forest.
"I'm thinking of the future. Our children will grow up here. I don't want them to have to memorize the Five Hundred Feats of Fergus MacRei. It's a cruel thing to do to a child."
She lowered her chin and looked at me from the tops of her eyes.
"You said 'our' children," Davhna said quietly.
"You know how I feel."
"Daydin, I love you." She reached over and touched my leg briefly, "But we're only seventeen."
"We'll both be old enough in seven months."
"And you'll be Lord of the castle and I'll still be a workman's daughter." I waited, trying not to scream my frustrations.
"Davhna," I said between clenched teeth, "I have given you my word."
"I know, Aedan, and I believe you." She held my hand and gently caressed it. "But the future is unpredictable. Things change."
She urged the bay to a canter. I watched her go, making my own way more slowly.* * *
I saddled two nameless horses, wishing not for the first time that Trick was with me. If for nothing else, I owed Gabriel for losing my strange, smart faerie horse. I rode the smaller, dappled gray and lead the brown and white gelding. It didn't matter which direction I took, as long as I knew the password.
Desire.
I headed south and west, through a lesser road into Arden. The great trees blossomed above me, seemingly immortal and invincible. I wondered what it felt like to be so old, so magnificent. I only felt small.
Perhaps another hour into the forest, Gregory reached me via trump. I pulled him through. Dressed all in black, he felt decidedly strange to my sorcerous senses.
"Any news?" I asked the obvious question.
"I spoke with Leviathan," he said. "I can't entirely support her cause." It felt like a lie, especially given the change in his appearance, but I let it slide. We remounted and began riding.
"Good. Its purpose seems entirely bent on destruction."
"Yeah, pretty much."
"That won't be beneficial to you or to me," I said. "Why not give creation a chance?"
"I'm here aren't I? Now, how do we find the Tower?"
"Oh," I flicked the reins and my horse sped up. "She'll find us sooner or later."
Later, perhaps by two hours, the landscape had changed considerably. The verdant canopy of Arden had been replaced by a cooling expanse of pale orange sky. The ground beneath our horses' hooves had turned to shimmering dunes of black and white sand. Ten minutes after sunset, we heard the music: a haunting strain of three melodies in minor keys played by flutes and strings. Before I knew it, I had taken my flute out and was playing along, my fingers unconsciously following the complex harmonies.
We crested a sand hill and saw a large round tent, perhaps thirty feet in diameter, lit from within. A shadow flickered on the tent wall, moving in sinuous rhythm to the strange music.
I sat still on my horse and played my flute. Nothing else mattered.
Gregory might have said something to me, but I didn't notice; I couldn't reply. Out of a corner of my mind I saw him dismount and approach the tent. The music sped up and the silhouette of the woman writhed in time. My focus narrowed until it was all I could do to keep playing.
Suddenly, the song stopped. I could breathe. Gregory was standing in front of the tent door. The woman's shadow held a dancer's pose. Then it moved. She pushed the tent flap aside and strode barefoot toward my cousin.
She was taller, perhaps eight feet in height, and her body was impressively muscular. She wore a minimum of white silks. Her long white hair flowed down across her sweaty shoulders. Between her eyes, where I had seen the reptilian pupil, was a symbol of some kind—an ogham, perhaps.
Gregory greeted her and told her our names.
"I knowest this one," the Tower said, pointing a graceful hand toward where I sat. "Come down, mine own, and greet me."
I dismounted and moved quickly to her side. Her hand was still extended. I took it and kissed it reverently. The Tower smiled warmly at me and addressed Gregory.
"Thou art seeking me as a curiosity," she said. "It is not meet to reply unwittingly."
Gregory stammered in denial, but the Tower ignored him and turned to me.
"I brought him here in hopes that he might strengthen your position," I said.
"He is lost to me. Leviathan hath her hooks too deeply set."
"What of the others?"
"The scion of Finndo's line has failed. He has given his strength to mine enemy."
"What of the Gold?"
"He, too, is gone. He hath quit this time and place."
"Can't he be replaced?" I asked.
"He hath fulfilled his obligations. Thou art all that is left." She caressed my cheek. "Thou art what I am. As I am grown stronger, it is due to thine actions alone."
I thought back to my claiming of Grayswandir and the continued absence of Caine. Now I was certain I had killed him. I didn't know what to feel.
"Why hast thou brought Hunger here?" The Tower asked me.
"Gregory is dissatisfied with Leviathan."
"Hunger ever is dissatisfied."
"I have no affinity with Leviathan," Gregory claimed. "It is my father's personality, resurrected—not mine."
"He hath made his choice," The Tower told me.
"Choices can be unmade," I said, but she shook her head.
"Can they?"
"Did not Brand unmake his choice?"
"He was unmade by his choice and hath paid for his deceit. So it goes; so must it go."
"Must it all pass away?" I pleaded. "Is there no other coin with which all debts must be paid? Death is so extreme."
"I carest not," the Tower said, rising to her full height. "They hath all made their choices. Of your blood, only Benedict chose to give up his burden. Having chosen, they have lost their relevance. Now all they can do is die."
I didn't understand. Supposedly, Benedict had refused the Unicorn's orders. Was the Tower saying that his act had freed him? He killed himself not long after. But was she saying that the other elders' deaths were irrelevant? I didn't think so, but I was confused.
The Tower pulled aside the tent flap and led us inside. It was empty except for some furnishings. Where had the musicians gone? I hadn't seen anyone leave the area. She walked across thick carpets and sat down on a cushion beside a low table. With one strong arm she indicated that we should seat ourselves in front of her. I followed immediately. After a moment, Gregory entered the tent as well, the metallic creaks of his armor sounding discordant in the hot night air.
"Thy generation must make the choice. Strife, purity, destruction, change…"
"What does Leviathan represent?" Gregory interjected.
"Thy father summoned her. Had he a reason?"
"Perhaps. I don't know."
"When thou knowest, then wilt thou answer thy question."
"Is this change necessary?" I asked.
"If strife exists, there must be striving."
We sat a moment in silence. I tried to catch Gregory's eye, but with his strange black empty eyes, it was difficult to tell if he saw me. He pursed his lips and rubbed his chin.
"My role, then, is villain," he said.
"An admirable role," The Tower smiled, "But that won't keep me from trying to destroy you."
"Why are you not trying to kill me now?"
"I will try, in every way, in all times."
I didn't like where the conversation was going. If the Tower attacked Gregory, what would I do? Would I help her? I didn't want to think about that.
"What of the others—Eve, Leviathan, the Seraph—what purpose do they serve?" I asked.
"Each serves her own, as I servest thou."
"If there are more of them, doesn't that make more strife?"
"I have thought of that. More and more and more." The Tower held out a hand in a fluid gesture. "The Seraph, as you call her, was good as a servant."
When it became clear that she wasn't going to elaborate, I returned to an earlier line of thought.
"Is the Gold lost forever?"
"Yes. It has been taken."
I remembered that Magni's ring had been cut off his finger by the goddess we named Conflict. But that had been in the changed multiverse where Eric still reigned as King of Amber. Conflict had never been seen in the real universe.
"I thought that she was not here," I said.
"That she has not come through to this place matters not. Finndo's scion has lost his relevance now."
She had just condemned Magni to death. Curiously, it didn't bother me as much as I would have expected. Then I realized what the Tower was asking of me.
"All the blood disturbs me," I said.
"I thought thou hadst made that choice long ago. Thou art mine. Just as this one is marked, so too art thou. Thy lot is with me."
"I need a moment to think." I stood and walked slowly out of the tent and into the desert. Outside, the darkness filled the air. I breathed deeply. Hundreds of thousands of stars shone down from the night sky, sparkling diamonds against a black velvet blanket. A cool breeze carried exotic desert scents to me. It seemed as if the earth were talking to me, but I couldn't understand what it was saying.
I heard the creak of metal armor and turned. Gregory had followed me. He stopped just out of range and looked away.
"We are but pieces in a game to them," he whispered.
"Yes," I agreed. "Willing or not, we move as they ordain. But we are not powerless."
"I agree. I wonder what would happen if we destroyed one of them."
I looked closely at him. Could the Tower hear us from inside the tent? We were well out of human hearing range, but what was that to a goddess?
"Which one?"
"The Seraph," he said. "It seems to be the weakest of them all."
"Giselle proposed something similar."
"Would she help us?"
"No," I laughed coldly. "She claims to have no power."
"Hunh," Gregory nodded. He had rescued Giselle too often to disagree. I knew that her strengths lay in other areas. However, she was no warrior. That we both knew.
I studied Julian's son. What did he really want? He claimed that the Leviathan didn't have a hold on him, but his eyes told a different story; she had clearly marked him as her own Could I trust him?.
I decided that I would go along with him, but keep a watch on him. If he had another reason for attacking the Seraph, I would learn it.
"Once we begin this, we cannot stop," I said solemnly. "If we succeed, we may well face each other across a battlefield."
"So be it."
We shook hands in silence, holding the grip for a long moment. I released his hand. We turned and walked slowly back across the sand.
* * *
No matter how much I fidgeted with it, the jacket just didn't fit right. I stood in front of a full-length mirror in the acolytes' dressing room and pushed and pulled for nearly twenty minutes. It didn't help. The crimson silk rippled like water in the dim candle light, but the fit across the shoulders was just plain wrong.
The door opened behind me. Variga hurried over.
"Aedan, what's the delay? Everyone's waiting, dear."
"It doesn't fit," I tore open the collar. "Stupid thing. And I look horrible in red"
"There, there, dear." She patted my shoulders. At her touch, tears began streaming down both my cheeks. The high priestess pulled me into a hug.
I cried into her robes for a few minutes. Let them wait, I thought. Let them all get tired and annoyed and just go home. I didn't want them to see me like this. They had no right to be here.
"Why can't it just be you and me and her?" I asked, wiping my runny nose with the back of my hand.
"Everyone needs to grieve," Variga said. She dried my face with the sleeve of her undertunic. "We all miss her. She was a wonderful young woman."
"It's my fault. She was trying to impress me, you know. If I wasn't going to be the Lord of Silvervein, she wouldn't have done it."
"There, there," Variga's strong arms wrapped around me. "She was a strong-willed girl. She made her own decisions."
"You know I'm right," I huffed.
"Don't blame yourself. She was a fine swimmer. It was an accident. She was crazy to try it alone."
I stifled my tears and pushed her away. You don't understand, I thought. I taught her to be crazy. I took a deep breath and calmed myself.
"I swam the channel first, Variga." I admitted. "Davhna was only trying to match my feat. She must have been practicing so she could show me."
"Oh, Aedan."
I composed myself, breathing slowly until I was ready. Variga stood quietly beside me. After a minute, I turned to her. She saw that I was ready and turned to lead me into the hall of the cathedral. I put a hand on her sleeve and stopped her.
"There's one more thing," I pronounced. "I'm leaving here as soon as I can. I'll never rule Gealorea."
"Now is not the time for those sorts of decisions, Aedan."
"I'll tell Samineh tomorrow. Now, lead on."
Variga shook her head sadly and took my hand in both of hers. She looked at me for what felt like a very long time before she sighed, released my hand, and led me to the hall of the cathedral.* * *
Yellow light spilled out of the tent door, broken by the form of the Tower as she stood in the doorway. Her eight arms were arrayed behind her, encircling her head. As we strode forward, the light shifted to orange, then to red. It illuminated the night, covering the blackness with a dark scarlet veil. A spreading pool of crimson flowed outward from beneath my goddess's feet.
Gregory stopped twenty feet away. My legs propelled me forward, almost against my will. I walked up to the Tower. She knelt and trailed her fingers in the sand. A coppery smell filled the air. I watched her in detached fascination.
She lifted her hand, slick with blood, and slowly, so slowly, pressed her thumb against my left eye.
It burned like a hot spear into my mind, comforting and pure. I looked around me. The Tower was gone. I tried to take a step but my legs felt weak. I faltered and knelt in the wet sand.
Gregory was talking, somewhere behind me, but his words sounded as if he were at the end of a long tunnel. I ignored him and caused Grayswandir to become a blade. On my knees, I began drawing in the sand.
I drew an octagon surrounded by other lines—the symbol I had seen before in Dworkin's journal. I took off my shirt and cast it aside. I wrapped both of my hands around the grip of Grayswandir and pointed it at the dark red sky.
I breathed in, and the dull gray streaks appeared. I called the power to me and it came. Long moments I knelt, building my energy. Alive with electric vigor coursing in my veins, I stood proudly and called to the Seraph across the Shadows.
I rubbed the palm of my hand against my sternum, scars to scars. I felt my call reach it—her, I corrected myself—and then she stood before me in all her glory.
Her white radiance illuminated the landscape, but this time I could see her features clearly. She was thin, dressed in white chain mail and an enveloping white cloak. Her hair streamed out from under a cowl, framing an androgynous face. In one hand she held a strange weapon, a great sword whose two blades wrapped around each other like a helix.
"Did you deliver my message?" the Seraph's whispered voice breathed in my ear.
"I did," I said, calculating the angle of her sword and my reach.
"What did She give you?"
"The Tower gave me nothing."
The Seraph's fingers curled and uncurled on her sword.
"I have another message," she said impudently.
"Are you so inept that you can't deliver your own message?" I asked.
Quick as lightning, the Seraph's sword struck. Faster than thought, I brought Grayswandir up to block. A clap of thunder boomed as silver sparks filled the air.
The Seraph spun and her cloak billowed open. Great white wings spread behind her, but I barely registered that; I kept my eyes on her sword as it slashed and darted, each time bringing my own magic blade to block.
Ten blows and two seconds later, Gregory leapt into the fray. All the sparks and colors vanished, sucked into his bottomless eyes. The night was dark again.
"Stop!" he shouted.
"I am delivering my message," the Seraph said. She sounded almost angry, like a petulant child.
"Let me hear it," Gregory said.
"He will be my message—his dead body."
I stepped back, out of range once again. I raised the energy flowing into Grayswandir for a moment, but it was useless. Every glimmer of force sunk into the vortex of Gregory's eyes.
"Don't kill him," Gregory said.
"There must be an end," the Seraph groaned. "If there were no end, how would suffering abate?" Her sword points dipped and stuck in the sand.
"It would be consumed," Gregory said.
"It would be changed, transformed into something beautiful and new." I lowered Grayswandir.
"Your mistress's change is its own end. Think carefully. Change is nothing without stillness. She roams freely while I am chained. You are hers. I have no one." One skeletal arm pointed menacingly at me.
"She gave you your freedom and you repay her with violence." I brought my sword to guard.
"Insults! You will pay—"
"Stop!" Gregory pleaded. "You will gain nothing by fighting. Seraph, hear Aedan out."
We stood for several moments, each of us staring at each other. I caught my breath.
"What do you have to offer?" The Seraph lowered her blade and rested her hands upon the hilt.
"My cousin questions his allegiance to the Leviathan. What do you have to offer him that he might serve you?" I asked.
"Is this true?" she asked.
"She has some hold on me through my father," he said. "But I have not made any irrevocable decisions."
"What would you know, then?"
"What are you?" Gregory asked, moving a step closer. "Not just you, I mean, but all of you? Where did you come from?"
"We take what we are from you. Your kind make us. That is why the Tower is the greatest."
"Because I serve her?" I asked.
"It is so, and your allegiance is firm. You have strengthened her greatly by your actions. This threatens the future."
"How?" I wondered. "Will you survive the coming turning of the cycle?"
"Unless I am destroyed, I will—regardless of any other outcome. I cannot be lesser or greater. I will simply be."
"What of the coming change?" Gregory asked. "Is a final end possible?"
"There are many possible resolutions."
A typically useless answer. Dealing with these abstract beings was a concrete pain in the ass.
"What in the Nine Hells of Scaethach are you talking about?" I railed.
"It is unfortunate that all seek only for themselves," the Seraph continued, ignoring my outburst.
"Not all," Gregory ventured. "Some give of themselves."
"Indeed," the Seraph almost agreed with him. "The old Sisters did not believe that you would give your powers to others, yet you have. That is why their time is failing."
"And yours is beginning, you presume?" I asked. "Your place in the next world was already determined, was it not? If you do not wish to lose your existence, perhaps you should consider returning to your station. The Tower said you were a good servant."
She turned and faced me fully, her slender hand caressing her weapon menacingly.
"When we first met, I thought your role might not be insignificant."
"Our initial meeting was a singular experience," I agreed. "In retrospect, your offer was almost generous."
"I was uncertain that I would not regret that," the Seraph said.
"Do you regret it?" I asked.
"Serve her more closely," she gripped the haft of her weapon more tightly, "and I will unmake that mistake."
The Seraph moved threateningly toward me, but I didn't back down. I felt the hot thumbprint searing my eye and knew that if she attacked me again she would perish. The Seraph hesitated, then turned and vanished. I looked up into the night sky, overcast and shadowed, for a long, long time. Finally, I took a deep breath and regarded my cousin.
Gregory looked at me with his hollow black eyes and said nothing.* * *
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