by Katie Macey
Singing townspeople began to filter out of their homes. Niamh saw older people whispering to each other, fear flashing across their faces, but the younger ones walked out into the streets, steps weighted with courage.
Where Guthaecia had been barren of life earlier, its streets eerie and swept clean of any evidence of its people, now they swarmed. The song swelled with each verse, and Niamh couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
A laugh escaped her lips, and she brushed away a tear. Aarin pumped his fist and lifted a small boy to his shoulder. Caeednce helped a mother with her infant, and in as long as the final verses took to be sung, the people singing in one voice, Niamh knew she was no longer a lonely soul on the edge of the coastline. The crowd pressed right to the bridge's threshold. Niamh poked her shoe out from under her skirts, to touch the line where the sandy path changed to large cubes of stone. They would follow her no farther than this.
Crossing onto the grey stones was forbidden. It had always been so. The royal family was separate to the people, only the invited courtiers and Fates could traverse the bridge.
The singing stopped. Silence washed over the crowds, and they looked to her, waiting. Niamh rubbed her hands together and flung pink rose petals into the air. They fluttered in the salty breeze like summer’s snow. Her golden hair glistened under her hood, and her blue marks flashed.
Aunty had spent years distorting truths and hiding facts from her. Niamh needed answers, and though facing Lord Gleriledd felt like a task for someone greater than her, she dared to take the first step. The need for answers made her brave.
✽✽✽
Aarin and Caeednce stood before Niamh. Stooping to kneel, they bowed their heads, touching an opposing shoulder with one hand. The surreal nature of everything happening threatened to throw Niamh's concentration. She stepped toward her kneeling friends and touched their heads.
“Somehow Lord Gleriledd knew you were coming,” said Aarin, still kneeling. “That’s why so many are here. They were waiting to see you.”
Niamh nodded. When they stood, she turned and took a breath. Jaw clenched, she took that first step, the one she'd been dreading since she'd transformed into the Golden Fate. Her cloak shaded her face, but she knew she couldn’t avoid it now.
The atmosphere changed as she moved further away from the shore. Open water, deep and freezing, touched both sides of the bridge. A mere two spans below, white-wash reached up and crashed down in a perpetual cycle. The whipping wind roared in her ears, and she pulled her cloak tighter.
The bridge stretched before her like an empty road, straight and unwavering. Step after step, her slow rhythm comforted her, as she left the known behind, and faced her destiny.
Half-way across, she hesitated. Something flickered at the end of the bridge. A reflecting light…
Niamh became aware that Caeednce and Aarin had followed her, and marched in step behind her. Like three birds in formation they crossed the bridge that separated the ordinary from the royal.
Niamh took a deep breath. She wasn’t just a fearful girl anymore. She could swirl the winds at her command. And she could’ve flown across this bridge if she had so desired. But Niamh understood that the people watching needed her to cross it as the citizen she was. The flickering light aimed its glare at her face. Niamh had an idea. What they intended for intimidation, she could use for spectacular magnification.
This was her moment. Even the wind hesitated, with ice crystals hovering in anticipation. Niamh glanced to the left and flung her arm out sending a rushing wave away from the bridge to the south. She thrust out her other hand and began marching forward, arms outstretched, as a wave rushed off to the north. Did the reflective light flicker? Had she rattled them? Was that a flutter of fear in her enemy?
The bracelet that graced her left wrist scratched her skin, and another rash of itchiness flushed up her arm. The blue designs spread like an infection, but one that brought her power. Her face remained un-affected, not that she noticed. Her focus never wavered from the other end of the bridge. It was blocked off, and not by any small force.
Niamh didn't slow her pace but she did her utmost to count the lines of armed soldiers that blocked her way. They stood in rows of twenty-five, but she couldn’t tell how many were bunched behind. Was it already a force too great for her to manage? How do you face violence without joining in with it? Her powers were so new, and she knew so little, she honestly didn’t know! Aarin’s information had been correct. They had known she was coming.
The glint of light moved, and a gasp from Caeednce reached her ears. Niamh kept her posture bold and aggressive, despite her nervousness, until she was close enough to see their faces. They were just like her, but they weren’t dressed like royal guards. They wore a uniform from a foreign land. Lord Gleriledd stood on a painted chariot behind them, one hand resting on a sword hanging from his belt.
Niamh ignored the bows and arrows ready to be unsheathed at her. She slowly reached one hand up and flung back her cloak in one dramatic motion. Her hair glowed with golden yellow sparkles radiating around her like an angel’s halo. The cloak landed on the stone behind her, and she blazed forward, her bare arms glowing in intricate blue designed glory.
She was no longer a small naive girl returning home. With each step, she became the returning Golden Fate. Before her stood the catalyst that had brought her back. The weapons offended her and disturbed the peace she held dear. With a flick of her fingers, she swept the first row of armed men aside, sending them tumbling like dominoes.
But one of the faces in the second row caught her attention. It was a face she'd laughed with, smiled at, and rolled her eyes at so many times.
"Iilen?" said Niamh, whispering to herself. One eye was bruised and he was dressed as a foreign soldier. He almost flinched when he met her eye. She was not more than twenty paces away from them now. Iilen looked pointedly at the fallen men at his feet, then lifted his chin at her. For a split second, she wondered if he had betrayed them. Was he in league with Veayre? Was his capture a ruse?
Niamh almost physically shook her head. In her heart, she knew it couldn’t be so. Her soul had recognised Veayre's duplicity early, she just hadn't wanted to believe it. To her delight, Iilen's face flashed a wink. She almost grinned. Of course, he hadn't betrayed her. There wasn't a villainous bone in Iilen’s body.
A horn sounded. It pierced the air and brought with it a heavy sense of dread.
Like a vibration she couldn’t stop, Niamh’s powers hummed within her. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she wouldn’t let Lord Gleriledd cross the bridge, not with that army, and not with those weapons.
Niamh took another step forward. The gap between her and the rows of men narrowed.
"You defy me?"
Niamh raised her chin and faced the man who sat high up and well-guarded, while she stood alone. She noticed that his left hand trembled a little though, and took heart. He wasn't sure about her.
"You have no authority to order me,” said Niamh, the glory of her transformation in full view.
Niamh lifted her palms and attempted the old arts move she knew well. Rows of men tumbled backward, a barrelling wind knocking them flat. Lord Gleriledd managed to remain standing, but not without some undignified scrambling first.
"The King is dead,” said Lord Gleriledd. “And no matter what you are, the throne sits empty. I have long prepared for this day. The fall of Guthaecia was unavoidable, and the late King ignored all advice to prepare…"
"But you are invading us!” said Niamh. “You injure and destroy everything in your path."
Niamh squared her feet and prepared to lift herself into the air. But something caught her eye.
"Oh,” said Lord Gleriledd, “you see them now do you?"
Niamh's bottom lip quivered.
"No."
"Oh yes.” Lord Gleriledd climbed down, pacing in front of his men. “You think after going to all that effort to ensure you weren't the heir to the throne, I could ha
ve left the other two candidates alone?"
Niamh's mind raced, she hadn't even considered that the same measures would be taken for her sisters. Was he against her entire family?
“But…I am the Golden Fate – me! What could you want with Tatyana and Ariana?” Niamh's cheeks paled and she felt cold.
Lord Gleriledd lifted his hands gradually until they were above his head. His face was exultant, and the whites of his eyes flashed wildly.
"Behold, the Silver Fates!"
Behind him, on heavy chains, two cages emerged.
"No!"
Niamh collapsed to her knees. Two cages lifted into the air, hanging and swinging precariously on dull chains. Her sisters. The girls she had travelled so far and through so much trouble to protect weren’t banished but captured by Lord Gleriledd.
"Today marks the end of the royal line in Guthaecia,” said Lord Gleriledd. “No more, shall we rely on the good hearts of other lands to protect us. We will arm ourselves and we will be ready to defend this great kingdom!"
"But you've invaded us already! Oplijah has been burned to the ground!"
"There are bigger threats than me in this world…" said Lord Gleriledd. Then drawing his sword, he growled and faced Niamh directly. "It’s hardly fair, a mortal against a Golden Fate.” He waved his hand. “Guards!"
Niamh tried to understand, but it was all happening so fast! She stood frozen, hands trembling. She had power, but how to use it? And what precise powers did she have anyway? She swirled the air between her open hands, unsure of what to do.
"Ha! You think flying away will solve anything?” said Lord Gleriledd. “Will you stand guard on this bridge? What of the ships that use the palace docks, unseen?"
A secret dock? On the other side of the palace? How deep did his treachery run? How many allies were against them?
"You know I don't know,” said Niamh. “You point out my weaknesses and my naivety.”
She knew she looked formidable, transformed from an ordinary village girl into something they only recognised from history books. Her skirts made her bigger, and her hair glowed golden in the sunlight. It was almost noon. The blue swirls on her arms smarted along with her pale skin under the blaze of the midday sun.
The line of men advanced once again, Iilen with them. What was he doing? Her sisters, each alone in her grimy cage, gripped the bars as it swayed in the wind. Their bracelets reflected the sunlight...
One of the soldiers broke rank…Iilen tried to break free, wrestling away from strong arms. But he was quickly apprehended with the tip of a blade poised at the side of his neck.
"No!" Niamh couldn’t stop the words flying from her mouth.
"That's it."
Lord Gleriledd dismounted. The wall of men parted, and he moved closer and closer to her with each step.
Everything within Niamh wanted to shrink back, or even turn and run away. And she could. She knew that much about her powers. She could lift off into the sky and fly away.
Iilen’s brow beaded with sweat. Blood beaded at the tip of the sword. All they had to do was press a little harder...
"Niamh!"
Tatyana called out, her face streaked with tears. She looked confused and afraid. Her shoulders shook. Niamh shot her a look that she hoped sent comfort and assurance to her, but she wasn’t sure she had any to give.
Lord Gleriledd walked right up to Niamh until she could see the reflection of her face in his chest plate.
"Armed, and armoured,” said Niamh. “Did you let fear guide you so long, you forgot what truly binds us?"
"Don't lecture me with your childish stories."
"Give me my sisters," said the Golden Fate.
"So bossy?"
He raised an eyebrow at her and placed his hands on his hips. Niamh refused to be the first to step back. Everything hung on the tiniest of movements now.
"You are nothing but a character from an old story. You think you can stop me? This land has been leaderless for years."
"Why threaten us with violence?” said the Golden Fate. “If you are in the right, why do you coerce the people with threats?"
"Your stupidity isn’t worth my time. You interrupt me,” he said, grabbing her shoulders with his giant and rough hands. He shoved her hard. “But you will not prevent me."
Niamh tumbled to the ground. Gasping for breath, she sent a barrel of wind at his feet. Almost tripping, he righted himself, still laughing at her. She was trying to save everyone, and all she could do was this embarrassing attempt? Gritting her teeth, she stood up.
With a flush of anger, her blue markings flashed with glowing light. Hoping that her powers really could do something useful, she lifted her head.
"I want - my sisters."
Niamh pounded her fist into grey stone, and the bridge groaned. Men tried to sure their footing as the pavement beneath their feet shook. Lord Gleriledd’s face flickered with fear. He lifted a boot, capped with metal, and kicked her hard. Screaming in pain, Niamh flew backward, scraping hard along the dusty stone. Her elbows bled, and when she lifted fingertips to her face, they came away red with blood. From behind the Lord, she saw Iilen raging, screaming, and wrestling to break free. Guards pointed their swords at Aarin and Caeednce.
The crowd scattered. Fleeing away from the bridge, they ran to higher ground. But there was no place like that for Niamh. The boot, solid and swift, landed again, this time in her rib cage. Her eyes clenched shut, and she rested her head against the road, coughing hard. Pain exploded like fireworks with each kick of his attack. She knew she should be fighting back, but between hits, there was no time to react. All she could do was recoil and whimper, barely even crying out with each hit.
Everything had gone wrong. A line of arrows flew by her, marking a boundary of fear, and separating her from her people. Heat shot from her bracelet up her arm. Her bracelet had hurt her? Ignoring it, she turned her face to the ground. Tensing her stomach, she braced for another blow from Lord Gleriledd’s boot.
No help was coming.
Gutheacia, leaderless.
Iilen, captured.
Veayre, despicable.
Jomen, gone.
Where could she find hope? Despair weighed her down, and she wondered if she’d ever get up again.
✽✽✽
A weak tinkling noise tickled at Niamh’s ears, even as Lord Gleriledd continued his brutal attack. Opening her eyes, she noticed dust on the air. Lord Gleriledd hadn't seen it. He was coming for her again. This time with his sword drawn.
"No-" she tried to speak, but no sound came out of her mouth. This couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t be!
His sword flashed. He lifted it high, its wide blade shining with evil intent.
"The first to die!"
His voice thundered across the bridge, but the crowds were already gone. Only Aarin and Caeednce remained, still prevented from helping by armed guards.
Aarin’s face was a contortion of conflicting desires, to protect and to stay alive. Another figure appeared beside Caeednce. A frame she recognised.
"Aunty..."
Tears leaked from Niamh’s eyes, and though it seemed like Lord Gleriledd was frozen in time, the moment dragged out, and she was overcome with sorrow. She would give anything to be in her dim little lounge room, snuggled up with aunty and her sisters again. Sobbing now, she looked away from those she loved and stared up at Lord Gleriledd. His face was a hard line of anger and judgement. He glanced away.
Aunty waved her arms and shouted, calling a phrase over and over. But Niamh couldn’t make out what she was saying.
Bloodied and dirty, the blue tentacles that had flashed with power faded into her skin. Pain and despair flooded her. But in the secret maze of her mind, she discovered the tiniest sliver of hope. Her aunt may have lied. And her true destiny may have been hidden. But Niamh loved her sisters. And she wouldn’t have her whole kingdom ravaged by violence, not while she still had strength to give.
Her lungs dragged breath, and h
er muscles cried out, but Niamh forced herself to move.
"Don't even think about it,” Gleriledd growled, stepping forward, raising his sword once more above his head.
Weary, shoulders drooping, she pushed herself up before collapsing again. Niamh could only stare. Frozen and blank minded, she floundered. This was the moment she died? And she couldn’t even make herself move? Lord Gleriledd glanced to her wrist. Her wrist. The bangle. Her sister’s bangles…
Niamh's eyes flashed with understanding. Suddenly everything made sense. Without dropping her eyes, she slammed her wrist against the hard ground.
Lord Gleriledd dropped the sword from his hand. It clattered against the stones, as he stepped back from her, eyes wide.
Niamh couldn’t believe she hadn't seen it before. The markings…the matching set. Three orphans raised together. It was so obvious. Why had she been so afraid? Blue swirling dust thick with glowing sparkles flowed out from the bracelet's broken circle, like a windswept waterfall in summer. Lord Gleriledd ducked away from it, shrieking, as it snaked through the air.
Iilen's mouth hung open, and he shook off the hands of the soldier that held him. Iilen and soldiers alike stared at the snaking vortex of blue smoke. Racing to Niamh’s side, he held out a welcome hand. She allowed him to help her stand. Battered and bruised, Niamh faced Lord Gleriledd. The blue shining, smoky tendrils flew over the top of the armed men's heads and snaked between the bars of the cages.
"No!” Lord Gleriledd screamed, as he backed towards his men. "Protective formation! I said, protective formation!"
But his men were confused and afraid. They scattered like scared children.
"I'll have your heads for this!" he cried running for the palace, shoving men out of the way as he went.
Niamh smiled grimly at Iilen.
"I'm glad you're by my side, Iilen."
“Jomen would have wanted someone with you,” said Iilen. “Besides, you’re pretty great, and not just because you turned all sparkly and stuff."
