The Way of Light

by Storm Constantine

In the centre of the old Fire Chamber stood a woman, whose shoulders drooped despondently. Her dark red hair hung ragged down her back, dark with grease. Rav could hardly bear to look upon her, for every contour of her body was etched with despair and defeat. She had already been present when he and Tayven had come through the great doors. Tayven had held Rav’s hand tightly all the way there, which only contributed towards Rav’s uneasiness. Generally, on their way to meetings with Tatrini, Tayven would try to make Rav laugh. Tonight, he was tense.

  ‘Who is that lady?’ Rav asked.

  ‘Her name is Sinaclara,’ Tayven replied in a whisper. ‘She is the blue lady who came to us that first time. Do you remember?’

  ‘She looks sick,’ Rav said.

  ‘She’s tired,’ Tayven said.

  The woman raised her head and looked at them with reddened eyes. Rav thought she was only half there. Her face looked puffy. It was more than tiredness. He shivered.

  Tatrini was arranging some magical paraphernalia upon a newly erected wooden altar next to the fire pit. The altar was rectangular and each of its sides was carved with representations of the elemental dragons. Tonight, the flames in the pit looked purple rather than blue.

  Tatrini directed Rav and Tayven to assume their accustomed positions upon the thrones. Bayard and Leo were already seated.

  ‘Now is the time,’ said Tatrini, ‘for us to witness the culmination of our labour. The dragons are present, to a greater or lesser degree, within each of you. I have secured a powerful artefact to aid us in our cause, and this woman you see before you is its guardian, a sorceress.’

  ‘What artefact is this, mother?’ Bayard asked.

  Tatrini gestured towards the altar, on which lay an object wrapped in indigo silk. ‘It is a crown, my son, an ancient crown, forged at the time when the dragons were present in the land.’ Her hands skimmed lightly across the silk. ‘This woman, Sinaclara of Bree, is here tonight to act as a channel for the power of the crown and the essence of the dragons.’

  ‘One might say she appears reluctant,’ Bayard drawled.

  Tatrini glanced at the drooping woman. ‘She knows what is best.’

  Rav gripped the arms of his throne. He felt slightly nauseous. Often, there had been strange energies within the Fire Chamber while he’d been present, but tonight it felt particularly dark and threatening. He realised that the crown hidden in the purple silk was the same one he had seen in his vision during the first ritual. It could be no other. It was the crown he had seen Tayven place upon his father’s head.

  Tatrini began to utter invocations. She threw incense grains onto a bowl of smouldering charcoal and thick grey smoke billowed into the room. Presently, it reached Rav’s nostrils and he almost gagged on the acrid perfume. It stole into his body as an invading gaseous serpent. By the fire pit, Lady Sinaclara shuddered and sank to her knees.

  Rav looked across at Tayven, seeking reassurance, but Tayven’s eyes were closed, his brow furrowed.

  In between her invocations, Tatrini continued to feed the fire with grains of incense. The smoke became so thick it filled the centre of the chamber to a level of around six feet. Rav could no longer perceive any of the others as more than vague shapes within it. His eyes were streaming and it was difficult not to cough. Power was building up around him, living, writhing, hissing power. This was more immediate and real than anything he’d experienced before. He felt the dragon daughters very near. They still invaded his dreams and sometimes he felt them during the day, lurking in the corners of his classroom, hiding in the curtains of the dining room, spooking his pony when he was out riding. He talked to Tayven about them often, who had said Rav should not be afraid of them. But Rav had noticed that Tayven never came into his dreams to chase the dragon daughters away. Perhaps he couldn’t.

  His eyes hurt so much he could hardly keep them open. His vision, what there was of it, had become blurred. The walls of the chamber were glowing through the smoke, dissolving into light, as if the chamber had moved to a place beyond the real world. The radiance increased in brightness, until it turned the smoke to brilliant fog. The thrones had become visible within it and also the pit at the centre of the room. Tatrini still stood before her altar, but it looked as if she floated in the air, because the floor could not be seen. She raised her arms and her voice became a wordless shout, full of commanding power. Rav was sure that no entity in creation could resist her charge.

  Then, out of the radiance behind Tayven’s throne stepped an immense figure. It was not a cockatrice, but a man who stood at least twelve feet high. He was clothed in a grey shimmering armour that looked as if it had been fashioned from toughened reptile skin. He wore a helmet of black and white feathers, which swept down on either side of his face and a cloak that was also made entirely of feathers. This figure stood motionless with folded arms. His eyes were shadowed by his helmet, but Rav could perceive his gaze, which was like that of an eagle.

  Behind Leo’s throne, another figure had appeared, this a gigantic woman, who was clad in a ragged robe of dark brown and forest green. Leaves and cascades of dark berries were woven into her russet hair. Her eyes were unnaturally large and dark, reminding Rav of a doe. He realised that these visions must be representation of the elements, as the dragons were. The figure in the east, with his feathers and eagle-eyed stare, was an avatar of air, while the woman in the north represented earth.

  To the left, another spirit form had emerged to stand behind Bayard, an angel of fire, clad in burning armour and wielding a flaming sword. His hair was a furious red and sparks leapt from it.

  Finally, Rav turned and saw behind him a monstrous woman, who seemed to be wearing nothing but a frothing waterfall. Living water cascaded round her towering body, splashing down, but also rising up as fountains of light. Her eyes were dark, liquid pools, reflecting starlight and her hair was green like seaweed. She was so close; Rav could reach out and touch her. He wondered whether he was the only person present who could see these beings. Neither Tatrini nor anyone else appeared to be aware of them.

  Tatrini was swaying now, her arms held lower, the palms displayed. She was singing in a low voice. Sinaclara knelt near to her, her hair hanging forward to touch the invisible floor. Tayven’s eyes were still closed, although his brow was no longer furrowed.

  Something touched Rav on the shoulder and he jumped in fright, but when he turned fearfully, expecting to see the huge countenance of the water woman looming at his side, he saw it was a man of normal proportions, dressed in dark clothing. It took some moments for him to realise he was looking at his father.

  ‘Papa!’ he whispered, and held out his hands, but Valraven raised a finger to his lips.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, Rav,’ he said. ‘No one can see me but you.’

  ‘How did you get here?’ Rav said softly. ‘Will you take me away with you?’

  Valraven touched his son’s head. ‘You must be brave now. I cannot be with you in the flesh, but know my spirit watches out for you constantly.’

  A worm of hideous cold squirmed through Rav’s spine. He could barely utter the question, because he was so frightened of the answer. ‘Are you dead now, Papa?’

  Valraven smiled a little. ‘No, I’m not dead. I’m just in another place, Rav, but I will come to you soon. I just want you to know you are not alone. Tayven is with you and you can trust him. You must help him now, as he will help you. Do whatever he advises.’

  ‘Will you be king, Papa?’ Rav said. ‘I think that’s what Tayven wants. There is a crown he wishes you to have. I’ve seen it.’

  ‘I don’t yet know,’ Valraven said, ‘but we have a great destiny, Rav. It is our fate, but not our curse, for I have broken it.’

  Before Rav could respond, the image of Valraven disappeared abruptly and it was as if he’d never been there. Rav’s heart was beating fast. He was no longer afraid. All that was strange, unworldly and unknown was familiar to him. He was part of it.

  The el
emental avatars had started to change form. As if shaped by Tatrini’s insistent song, their substance became gaseous. Rav saw dragons coiling on the air, then boiling columns of smoke, then tangled hanks of indescribable monsters. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the snout of Foy poking out through a writhing mass of strange spined fishes. She blinked at him and although she lacked expression, he felt comforted by it.

  She is mine, he thought. Great Foy.

  Tatrini had ceased her song and had begun to unwrap the artefact lying upon the altar. The smoke had dissipated a little, so Rav could see the crown clearly, emitting its own radiance. Its light pulsed in time to the sinuous movements of the elemental spirits.

  The atmosphere had felt dark and threatening before, but now Rav was aware that something of great significance was taking place. It was so powerful, he wanted to weep. Then Tatrini fractured the atmosphere with a loud and forceful voice.

  ‘You!’ she cried, pointing at Sinaclara. ‘I charge you now to call upon the power of the Crown.’

  Sinaclara expressed a sighing moan and raised her head, tendrils of damp hair hanging over her eyes. ‘You will achieve nothing by this,’ she said.

  ‘It is not your concern,’ Tatrini snapped. ‘Comply!’

  ‘You know I’d rather die than help you,’ Sinaclara said.

  Tatrini did not respond to this, but looked towards Tayven, who was watching intently.

  ‘Clara,’ Tayven murmured, his low voice carrying far. ‘Remember what I said to you. Do as she asks.’

  ‘Listen to him,’ Tatrini said. ‘He is one of your chosen ones, isn’t he? Yet he sits here in the Fire Chamber, an avatar of air in my service.’

  Sinaclara did not comment on this. ‘I cannot connect with the spirit of the Crown for you,’ she said.

  Tayven raised himself from the throne a little. ‘You should,’ he said, and Rav perceived a peculiar constrained urgency in his voice.

  Sinaclara turned her head slowly to regard him. An unspoken communication seemed to pass between them. Without taking her eyes from Tayven’s steady gaze, Sinaclara began to chant in a low, guttural tone. ‘Nee-ee-ess, zohdee-leh-dar, gar, buh-zod-deh, nee-ee-ess, lah-ee-ah-deh. Nee-ee-ess, gar, oh-tzee, moh-mah-oh, ah-leh-meh!’

  Her voice became deeper and louder as the chant progressed, repeating the same lines over and over. All the while she kept her eyes fixed on Tayven. Rav saw attenuated eels of vapour slither from between her lips to fly upon the air, twisting up and up. Power flexed within the tattered incense smoke. It poured into the room through the walls of light. The form of the elemental avatars condensed once more into the semblance of humanoid giants. They stood motionless behind the quarter thrones, their arms folded before them.

  The light within the Crown of Silence changed from white to indigo and the artefact had begun to emit a high humming tone. The vaporous serpents of Sinaclara’s breath weaved fluidly towards it.

  Tatrini threw up her arms and cried out, ‘Paraga, Lord of Air; Foy, Queen of the Waters; Hespereth, Lady of Earth; Efrit, King of Flame. I call upon thee! I conjure thee into the avatars that await thy essence. Be present among us, oh mighty ones! Bring forth the power of the ancient dragons! Give us command over their being.’

  It was then that Rav realised Tatrini was not aware the avatars were already present.

  The creature of air behind Tayven raised its arms and its essence began to dissolve. As a curling torrent of vapour it writhed towards the centre of the chamber, where it was joined by the essence of earth, water and fire. As one spiralling column, the elementals rose to the ceiling of the chamber. Tayven stood up. He was cloaked in incense smoke that hugged his body like fabric.

  Rav’s heart was beating painfully fast. He was sure that at any moment Tayven would take control. All the time he had been lying in wait, pretending to be something he wasn’t. It was so clear to Rav now. Tayven directed a piercing glance at Rav and mouthed the words, ‘For your father.’

  Tayven held out his arms, his head thrown back. At once, the essence of the elements swooped down and crashed into him as a bolt of pure energy. His body jerked backwards, but he did not fall. He absorbed the essence, his mouth wide in a rictus of agony.

  ‘Tayven!’ Tatrini cried. The Crown was now surrounded by an expanding bubble of indigo light that spat out sparks of a brighter purple radiance.

  It seemed that Tayven had become taller, but physically he appeared no different. Power coursed through him, made lanterns of his eyes. He raised an arm and pointed at Tatrini.

  Rav wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t say he was fond of his grand-mother, but he did not want to see her hurt. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to influence Tayven. The man before him now was not the gentle friend he knew. Perhaps this had been part of Tayven all along, hidden in secret. Once he had spoken with the voice of Paraga, but now he was a vessel for all the elements. He was no longer human.

  A lance of energy exploded from Tayven’s outstretched fingers, but it was not directed at Tatrini.

  Sinaclara staggered to her feet, cried, ‘Tayven, no! No!’

  The elemental charge, perhaps invisible to all but Tayven, Sinaclara and Rav, jetted across the room and hit Bayard hard in the centre of his chest, in a more powerful re-enactment of the first ritual they’d performed together. The prince’s body flew up into the air and then crashed back down onto the throne, where it jerked around in a hideously mechanical way.

  Leo leapt from his throne and ran to Rav’s side, climbing onto the seat with him and hugging him fiercely, burying his face in Rav’s hair. ‘Stop them,’ he murmured hoarsely. ‘Rav, do something.’

  As to why Leo thought Rav should have any power to affect events, Rav was unsure. He put a reassuring hand on Leo’s shoulder, trying to interpret what he was seeing. He thought that Sinaclara’s cry had been to stop Bayard being hurt, but he could see that was not the case. The searing radiance still poured out of Tayven’s hand into Bayard, but it was not killing him. It was being passed to him. Rav could see this clearly, totally confused by what Tayven was doing. His father had told him he should trust Tayven, but surely Bayard shouldn’t be given the combined power of the dragons?

  Tatrini stood rigid, her face bleached of colour, her eyes wide and dark. Sinaclara looked like a demented witch, paralysed by what she was witnessing.

  After what felt like hours, the energy dissipated from Tayven’s body and he dropped his arm. The walls became solid once more and the radiance within them vanished. All was silent, but for the gasping of Bayard. Tatrini stood motionless, her expression that of stunned shock.

  ‘What have you done?’ Sinaclara cried huskily, shaking her head.

  Tayven continued to stare at Bayard. ‘I have done what must be done.’

  Sinaclara staggered forward. ‘Bayard must not be emperor. He is not the true king!’

  Tayven glanced at her. ‘It is what they want,’ he said. ‘And they must have it. I know this now.’

  Sinaclara put her head into her hands, her body slumped into a posture of utter defeat.

  Tatrini recovered her composure. She went to Tayven and embraced him, although his body remained stiff and unyielding in her hold. ‘You have proved yourself this night,’ she said, ‘although in what way I am not yet sure. Did you channel the power of all the elements into Bayard?’

  Tayven put his hands upon her forearms, gently pushed her away a little. ‘Yes. He must be the avatar of the empire, but you must not crown him.’

  Tatrini frowned. ‘Why not? We have the Crown. It is alive among us.’

  ‘Look at him,’ Tayven said.

  Bayard drooped over his throne, his limbs still shaking. His eyes were unfocused. Tatrini uttered a sound of distress, or perhaps merely annoyance, and hurried to her son’s side. She put her hands upon his face and glanced round at Tayven. ‘Will he recover? Or have you destroyed him?’ She did not sound so grateful now.

  ‘He will recover,�
� Tayven said. ‘But if you believe in him, and your work, you must abide by the rules of the contest. There will be an ultimate choice to be made, an ultimate conflict to endure. If Bayard is victorious, then Sinaclara must crown him, as she vowed to crown the true king last year.’

  ‘I will not!’ Sinaclara spat, new strength coming to her voice.

  ‘I have the dragon’s breath,’ Tayven said calmly. ‘I speak only truth.’

  ‘Once you did!’ Sinaclara said coldly. ‘Now, I am not so sure. You lied to me. You did not tell me the true reason for coming here tonight. I would rather have died than have assisted in this matter. You knew that! You are despicable. I can’t believe I trusted you!’

  Rav, watching this exchange in shocked exhaustion, noticed three shadowy shapes slinking out of the darkness among the columns. Dragon daughters. They were creeping up behind Tayven, as real as Rav had ever seen them. He could tell they were attracted by the energy of conflict in the air, that it was food and drink to them, and that they had been there all along. They seemed drawn particularly towards Tayven, reaching out with their clawed fingers to touch him. Rav tried to utter a warning, but as in a nightmare, he could make no sound.

  Tayven glanced at him and blinked slowly, as if to communicate he was aware of what was happening. He did not turn to confront the shadows that clustered behind him, just spoke to them softly. ‘Jia, Misk, Thrope. Go now. Do your work, as I have done yours this night.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Tatrini snapped.

  Tayven shook his head. ‘Nothing. Let me take Bayard to his chamber. I will do what I can to restore him.’

  ‘Despicable beast!’ Sinaclara snarled. ‘You are the lie, Tayven, the only lie in creation.’

  Tayven ignored her angry words. Behind him, as wisps of vapour, the dragon daughters spiralled out of chamber, seeping beneath the closed doors.

  Gastern had visited the bed chamber of his wife, and now lay sleepless in his own room. He had been visited by a powerful urge, which he told himself was sexual, but in reality, it was something entirely different. He had wanted Rinata to give him some kind of assurance and comfort, to tell him he wasn’t going mad. But the empress, as she always did, had remained passive beneath his body, her eyes glassy like those of a corpse. For one hideous moment, Gastern imagined she was indeed dead, and had always been so. His lust dissipated. He rose from her bed and rearranged his robe. Rinata said nothing, turned onto her side. So the emperor had returned to his own empty chambers, awaiting shadows.