by C. Greenwood
“As you say, Master,” Varian agreed. “But by what method?”
The dark king squeezed the urn in his great fist until it shattered. “By blood.”
CHAPTER ONE
Eydis
Streams of sunshine pierced the dappled shadows of the grove, its light glinting like gold off the surface of the Pool of Tears. Eydis slipped off her sandals and accepted a silver urn offered by a silent, white-robed attendant. As she tipped the urn and trickled the water over her feet, rinsing away the dust of travel, she could feel the purity of the cool, sparkling stream. Truly she had done as the First Mother wished. A burden seemed to ease from her shoulders as not only the grime of weeks on the road but her cares and fears were cleansed away.
Clean now and standing in a puddle of the sparkling water, she undressed as the attendant indicated, dropping her clothing carefully over a screen standing nearby for the purpose.
On the edge of the pool she hesitated, toes curling over the stone lip, as her heart fluttered with renewed unease. She was aware of the watchful eyes of the green-skinned guardians lurking at the corner of the water, their hairless skins catching the light like fish scales, their serpentine bodies poised. For what? It was said they would drown any who desecrated the pool, their many hands dragging the sinner down to the depths. But who could say what might constitute desecration in their eyes?
Eydis shook the thought aside, hardening her resolve and stepping into the shallows. Her heart was pure, her motives worthy. The watery guardians must surely sense that.
Her lips moved with a soft entreaty. “Look upon me, First Mother, and if I be worthy, grant me your sight.”
One step. The emerald water, curiously warm, lapped at her ankles then her thighs as she descended the stairs deeper into the pool. It was at her waist now.
Another step. The bottom of the pool dropped sharply away. Instead of struggling to stay afloat, Eydis allowed herself to sink until the surface closed over her head. Through the crystalline water, shafts of sunlight pierced to the depths. Tiny air bubbles danced past, tickling her skin. Eydis’s hair swirled like red-gold moss before her eyes. Holding her breath she floated, weightless, in this silent, watery world. She was utterly at peace, listening for the voice of the First Mother.
Only no voice came. Instead, there was a sudden flash of light and a rushing sensation of speed. The pool and everything else receded, and her mind’s eye traveled to another place.
She found herself standing in a familiar room, her partially translucent feet dripping very real water onto the cold stone floor. The surrounding furnishings were simple. A sturdy, unadorned desk and chair and an engraving of the First Mother hanging on the otherwise empty wall. The room’s only light slanted from a small window high above. It did little to penetrate the gloomy atmosphere, but at least it revealed the face and form of the woman seated behind the desk.
The Head Hearer of the Shroudstone seclusionary glanced up but betrayed no surprise at the soggy apparition that appeared before her. She merely marked her place in the open book on her desk and set the tome aside.
“Child Eydis, I see you have arrived safely at Silverwood Grove,” she said. “I had no doubt you were equal to the dangers of the road.”
“Yes, Hearer.” Eydis shivered in the shadows, goose bumps pimpling her arms. She might be only an insubstantial ghost in this place, but she could still feel the draft wafting up from the floor. She pushed a clinging tendril of hair out of her face and glanced around. “Why have I come here?”
“A pilgrimage to Silverwood and the Pool of Tears,” said the Hearer, “is part of the test every adherent must face before dedicating her life to the First Mother.”
“I meant, why has my vision in the pool brought me to your study back in the seclusionary? It has been only eight days since I stood here in the flesh.”
The Hearer shrugged. “The First Mother transports you where she wills. Who can know her reasons?”
“Does that mean she has chosen me? Because she grants me this vision?”
The Hearer didn’t meet her eyes, and Eydis could sense her reluctance. “It means she has not rejected you. She has chosen to acknowledge you. But there are more ways than one to serve the Mother. Dedicating one’s self to a lifetime of solitude in a seclusionary requires sacrifices for which few are suited.”
Eydis bit back her frustration, saying, “I stand prepared to make those sacrifices.” Hadn’t she lived alongside the adherents for the past ten years? Hadn’t she eaten the plain food and slept in a cold, hard bed in a tiny cell identical to those of the adherents who had taken their vows? She knew the life and the work. What made the Hearer so reluctant to accept her?
The Hearer seemed to follow her thoughts. “No one has said you are unfit, Child Eydis. You have done all we have required of you, and you have much to offer the seclusionary. But if you are to be an accepted adherent, you must learn to squelch your anger and hold your impatience in check. Tumultuous emotions are indicative of a soul at war with itself.”
Eydis winced. The other woman knew her too well. “I understand, Hearer. I will learn to command my feelings.”
“I don’t doubt you will try,” said the Head Hearer dryly.
Her words barely reached Eydis’s ears before both the Head Hearer and her study slipped away without warning, receding into the shadows. Eydis was alone again, floating at the murky bottom of the Pool of Tears. Only this time her lungs were aching. The surface seemed a long way above. How long had she been under? She needed air! She kicked and flailed in an effort to get back to the top.
But the First Mother wasn’t finished with her yet. As a new vision took hold, her head jerked backward, her body arching painfully. She was transported again. This time when the dizzying rush stopped, she opened her eyes to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings.
The ghost of Eydis crouched in the shadowed corner of a dimly lit chamber with a high vaulted ceiling and green-tiled walls. There was a dampness in the air and a smell she associated with earth and old stone. Where was she? Torches flickered along the walls, and there was a lit brazier in the room. But neither was the source of the eerie green glow cast over the floor, the sculpted monuments, and the funerary relics arranged on shelves around the room. She caught a glimpse of what looked like a bony hand inside one of the shelves. Were those skeletons resting in the long niches?
She became suddenly aware of unfriendly eyes on her. Looking up, she found herself under the scrutiny of a pair of gleaming golden eyes belonging to a large raven perched on a wall ledge above.
Her gaze darted away from the bird, drawn to the room’s other occupants. A giant knight in dark armor, his eyes glowing red from inside a massive winged helm, loomed like a monster over a smaller man on the floor. The slender human with wild, dark hair and plain clothing knelt on the floor, his pale hands sifting clumsily through what looked like a heap of ashes and broken pottery.
“I’ve found it, Master! It is here!” he exclaimed suddenly. Eager as a dog for the approval of its master, he passed the item he held to the black knight.
“Good… good…” The master’s voice was at once wind and thunder, a whisper and a roar. Eydis heard the walls shudder, felt the cold stone floor vibrate beneath her feet.
“For all these millennia, the amulet has slept, undisturbed,” the dark master rumbled, holding aloft a thick golden chain, upon which swung a disk the size of a saucer. “Take it. It will give you the authority to wake my army.”
At his feet, the servant fidgeted. “I am no sorcerer, Great Raven King,” he said, and Eydis sensed he was trying to summon his courage. “Surely this t-task would be better suited for another. What p-powers have I that the undead should answer my command?”
“Power?” The dark knight growled scornfully. “You shall have what power I give you, mortal.” He thrust out a gauntleted hand and took hold of his servant’s face, metal-clad fingers encompassing the servant’s skull as if he grasped nothing larger than an apple-w
hite fruit. His hand glowed hotly, turning the color of brass touched by flame.
The scream that tore from the servant’s throat reverberated around the chamber and down distant passages until its echo bounced back like the answering cries of a thousand shrieking souls.
Shuddering, Eydis crept backward until she was pressed against the wall. She didn’t know if her transparent form would be visible to them if either the dark master or his servant turned their eyes her direction.
But thankfully they did not. The Raven King withdrew his hand, leaving behind a fiery print of splayed fingers and palm on the other man’s cheek. The side of his face was melted now and twisted into the tortured features of some creature out of a nightmare. Where the master’s fingers had spanned the back of his servant’s head, strips of hair were burnt away, exposing red scalp. But the other side of his face remained untouched and piteously human.
“Now,” the Raven King rumbled over his servant’s groans. “You possess what power lies in my right hand. Use it and summon me an army of corpses.”
The servant’s moaning and writhing stilled instantly, as if all pain and fear had fled at some invisible command.
“As you command so shall it be, Great Master.” His mouth twisted in a hideous effort at an ingratiating smile. His right eye now glowed like red coals in a furnace above the ruin of his cheek. The dark master placed the heavy gold chain around the servant’s neck.
Then the scene shifted, and Eydis felt herself being sucked away like a wave pulled back from the shore.
Shore… Water…
She was drowning! She dragged in a hungry breath—or tried to. But instead of air, her lungs filled with water. Choking, she convulsed, lungs afire, everything a dark, watery blur. She could not tell up from down. As she struggled desperately to flail toward the surface, her arms felt weak and heavy. Her chest was about to burst.
The darkness faded to grey, and her eyes rolled back. Dimly she was aware of scaled hands grabbing her from all sides, long fingers digging greedily into her flesh. She couldn’t understand who was trying to drown her, only that many hands held her down. The last thing she saw before fading into oblivion was a pair of milky-white eyes in a green-scaled, elongated face.
The world dropped away.
* * *
Light and air filled Eydis. Weightless, she felt nothing. She saw nothing but twinkling specks floating and swirling silently, like soft falling snow, clinging to her hair, kissing her lips, being drawn in through her nostrils… Only that couldn’t be, because she wasn’t inhaling. And she no longer had hair or face. In fact, if she had any physical form at all, she had lost her ability to control it. Was she dead then? Was this what it was like when one’s spirit exited one’s body? Perhaps she should be worried. Or afraid. But she wasn’t. She felt peaceful; her thoughts pleasantly hazy.
Then the voice came to her. It wasn’t a real voice, for it came from no mortal mouth, and it whispered not into Eydis’s ear, but into her heart. It spoke for what seemed a hundred years, revealing to her the mysteries of both mortal and immortal worlds. Eydis swelled with knowledge, the secrets of the universe laid bare before her. She understood life and death as never before.
But eventually the voice went away, leaving her bereft. All joy fled her as she searched to find the voice again. Like an abandoned child, she called out for her mother. The glittering lights all around evaporated, and colors and sounds began to close in. In a flash, feeling returned to Eydis’s body. Pain. Wet. Cold. There was something hard under her back. Something cold and wet covered her mouth, smothering her. Or pushing air into her. The world tilted.
* * *
Eydis jerked awake, coughing and vomiting water all over the ground. Memories flashed through her mind. Drowning in the depths of the pool. Being grabbed and pulled at by many hands—hands with sharp-scaled fingertips. But somehow she was free now. And alive. Greedily she sucked in sweet air tinged with the scent of pool-weed and something else. Water lilies? Her lips tingled, and her skin was numb everywhere it had been touched by those mysterious hands.
Something was leaning over her, she realized, its face and form haloed by the sun. Its elongated face, extended neck, and small breasts were iridescent with emerald-colored scales that glittered in the light. Its lips, full like those of a fish, were parted, and slits down both jaws stirred like the gills of a sea creature. A guardian of the sacred pool.
Eydis stared. The creature stared back, green lids flicking over opaque eyes as large and round as marbles. Then there were voices and the sound of running feet approaching. The pool guardian looked up, and her serpentine form trembled.
“D-don’t go,” Eydis tried to say. But her teeth chattered, and her throat was rough from swallowing so much pool water.
Anyway, the creature was already gone, a splashing sound marking her escape. Eydis was alone for mere seconds, and then a crowd of white-robed pool attendants were surrounding her, fussing over her, and helping her sit up.
“It is a sign,” one of them said to Eydis. “You have been touched by the First Mother. Why else should the pool guardians pull you out of the water? Why else should one of them breathe life back into you?”
“Be silent, Thea,” said another. “Give the girl space to catch her breath.”
Eydis recognized the speaker as Lytia, the attendant who had first helped her undress before entering the pool. In the same moment, she realized she was shivering naked in front of a growing crowd.
“It is all right,” Lytia reassured her. “We are all sisters here.” She draped a dry robe over Eydis’s goose-pimpled flesh and ordered another woman to fetch a warm drink.
Eydis managed to choke past her raw throat, “What happened to me down there? Was I supposed to be under for so long?”
“I don’t think so. No one has ever been before,” Lytia said. She hesitated. “No one who survived anyway. You are lucky the pool guardians intervened—something else I have never seen.” Her pale brows drew together. “The First Mother must have had a great deal to share with you.”
Then Eydis remembered. Not just the visions but the light. The voice that spoke to her heart and the many things it had said.
“I must see her,” she realized aloud.
Lytia looked startled. “What? Who must you see?”
“The oracle.” Eydis hoped her voice was steadier than her hands, which she hid inside her robe. “You must take me to the oracle of the grove.”
“The oracle? Why? What did you see down there?”
Eydis swallowed. “The end of the world.”
CHAPTER TWO
Eydis was ushered past the silver trees and up a narrow path through a labyrinthine garden. The garden was tended by white-robed groundskeepers who watched curiously as Eydis and her entourage of attendants passed. Through the trees Eydis caught glimpses of a temple’s many-peaked roof. But it wasn’t until the grove was behind her that she had her first clear view of the Temple of Tranquility.
The structure was striking in its simplicity. Many levels high, each level was topped with a multi-inclined roof, its curves sweeping to high points at the corners. Separate, unenclosed staircases marched up the outsides of the temple. Many areas lacked outer walls and were separated from the outdoors only by thin linen sheets that fluttered in the breeze. Bells hung from the roof edges and dangled from the branches of surrounding flowering trees. With each gust of wind, they set off tinkling music that chimed like a whisper through the clearing.
The temple walls were of pale marble veined with gold, echoing the fine white pebbles of the entrance path and the golden hue of the flower petals drifting from the treetops. It was a scene of peace and light. After the horror she’d witnessed in her visions, Eydis’s soul was soothed by the tranquility. It was difficult to believe evil and violence could exist in a world capable of such radiance.
Flanked by attendants, she mounted the steps to the temple porch. There Lytia clapped her hands and ordered the other women from the pool to r
eturn to their duties.
“Wait here,” she instructed Eydis when they had gone. “And trade your shoes for these.” She proffered a pair of new slippers made of some fabric so delicate Eydis could see through them. It was impossible to imagine they would provide any protection for the soles of her feet.
“It is symbolic,” Lytia explained, “of casting aside the filth of the outer world and arraying oneself in the purity of the inner woman—or man—before entering the presence of the oracle.”
Eydis nodded, asking as she complied, “Are you sure you can gain me admittance? What if she won’t see me?”
“I can promise nothing,” Lytia admitted. “You must appreciate how rare it is for pilgrims to be permitted access to the oracle. Her foretellings come through purity and solitude. She must keep herself untainted and absolute, separate from the aggression and greed of the outer world.”
“I understand,” Eydis said. “I have lived half my life among adherents in a seclusionary where we hold similar beliefs.”
When Lytia had gone, Eydis paced up and down the terrace, asking herself what she would do if her attempt to deliver her message to the oracle should fail. “Please, First Mother,” she murmured. “You sent me the visions in the pool. If you want me to make use of them, give me this sign. Sway the oracle’s heart in my favor. Help her sense the urgency of my request.”
It seemed like a long time before Lytia returned. And when she did, she was not alone.
Accompanying her was a slender, statuesque woman whose knee-length white braid belied the smoothness of her features, making her age impossible to guess. She wasn’t beautiful. But her timeless face and form, combined with the mature years her silver hair and gray granite eyes hinted at, produced a striking effect.
“This is Server Parthenia, the oracle’s primary advisor and companion,” Lytia introduced the newcomer. “Without the server’s approval, no one enters the oracle’s presence.”
