The Last Faoii

by Tahani Nelson

  The silence lengthened until there was only the sound of the wind through the branches overhead.

  “She died free, Tendaji, sir,” Emery finally whispered over the embers. “She died as Faoii-Kaiya and not as a servant of Thinir.”

  “Thank the Goddess and her unnamed servant for that,” Eili growled out in reply. “As long as there’s someone out there workin’ in Illindria’s name, Thinir’s army doesn’t need ta get any bigger.” She sighed. “I just wish there was some other way. The tonicloran is a heavy price to pay, even for freedom.”

  Tendaji opened one pale eye to glance Eili’s way. “What do you mean, ‘the Goddess’s unnamed servant?’”

  Together, Eili, Lyn, and Asanali explained what they had learned from the Croeli prisoner. Tendaji listened carefully, his eyes narrowing. Eili watched him as he stood up to pace.

  “What is it, boy?”

  “I think I know where she is.” Tendaji’s voice was steady, his face unreadable. With decisive steps, he began striding toward the horses, his movements deceptively steady. The others moved to intercept him, but he shook them off despite his injuries. “Your Faoii—she’s in that pit.” Quickly, his eyes glinting in the darkness, Tendaji went over what had happened in the Croeli camp. The others listened, their expressions masked. Only Emery stared on with wide, uncertain eyes.

  “She probably knows more ‘bout tonicloran than anyone alive, if she’s been able ta spread it like that,” Eili said. “And she has ta be powerful if she can override Thinir’s will. She might even know his weakness.”

  “We’ll have to hurry. Who knows what kind of state she was in before Amaenel abandoned her? However, I think we can—” Tendaji stopped as something on the horizon caught his eye. He motioned the others to be still, immediately falling into a defensive position as his gaze roamed the distant hills. His eyes darkened in the night.

  “No.” It started out as a whisper, then got louder with each repetition. “No. No. No!” The others turned to follow his gaze, reaching for their weapons as a thin line of soldiers crested the horizon. Though there was only a dark silhouette of a horned helm against a grey sky, Tendaji glared in its direction.

  “What is it, Tendaji?” Lyn asked, drawing her fantoii as she stared at the dark line against the far-off trees.

  When Tendaji replied, his voice was low and tortured.

  “I led them right to you.”

  32

  Come on, Kai. I’m not going to get stuck mucking stables again because you can’t get up like a regular Faoii for chapel.”

  Get up. Get up. Kaiya tried, but the world only spun in sickening, violent pain. She groaned miserably as her stomach voided its contents in a gruesome splatter. Agony exploded through her with each heave, and even after everything had been expelled, she could only lie there, gasping in the dark. She tried to speak, tried to beg Mollie to get Cleroii-Belle, but her mouth couldn’t form the words. Finally, she managed a strangled gasp:

  “Mollie, please . . .” The sound was a desperate mockery of her regular voice, and she could only curl in on herself as she waited for the spasms to pass.

  Eventually the pain began to subside, and Kaiya was only too aware that no one came to her aid while she suffered. She tried to call out again but only choked on her own bile. Where was Mollie? Had she already left? It must be time for chapel by now. Weren’t those the morning bells she heard?

  Kaiya knew she had to sit up. She had to get to chapel. Illindria would be proud of her strength and discipline. The Cleroii would help her there. Preoii-Aleena would comfort her. If Kaiya could make it to the chapel, this pain would stop. She just had to make it. She had just had to . . .

  But she was already there. With the sudden awareness that someone experiences when they first distinguish the difference between a dream and reality, Kaiya felt the chapel all around her. The air was clean and pure, as though a rain had just fallen and been dried by a pleasant sun. The Cleroii must have already sang one of their songs and purified the area. How could she have missed it? It smelled like lavender and apples. Crisp and pure. Perfect.

  Finally, blessedly, Kaiya was able to open her eyes. She wasn’t alone.

  She saw the hand first. Pale like honeyed cream, the delicate fingers gave way to a graceful, curving arm that beckoned to Kaiya. Straining, Kaiya followed the curve upward, past the bare shoulder and slender neck, then over a thin frame and the long, gossamer folds of a floor-length gown.

  The woman’s soft, round face was framed by sinuous, strawberry-blonde hair and lit up with a beaming smile. Glittering sapphire-blue eyes sparkled at Kaiya’s recognition.

  Had Kaiya been standing, she would have fallen again. As it was, she was only able to roll awkwardly onto one knee, bowing her head and fisting her hands in front of her. Her eyes flooded with tears as she caught a glimpse of her soiled, blood-crusted leathers and vomit-covered leggings. Her heart plummeted with shame.

  “Goddess, I . . .” Kaiya did not know what to say. She wanted to apologize for having failed. She wanted to say that she had tried, that she had done everything she could. But she could not lie to Illindria. Even if Kaiya’s false-facing had been better. Even if she had practiced more, the lie would always be plain. The Goddess knew all. And Kaiya had failed. The Faoii hung her head and simply whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Kaiya wasn’t sure what she expected. A gentle scolding? Words of disappointment? A speech of failure and embarrassment? She didn’t know. She knew only that she most certainly did not expect what came afterward. A tinkling sound. Like pieces of glass at the bottom of a stream.

  Illindria was laughing.

  At first, Kaiya felt wounded. Was she not already disgraced enough as it was? But the hurt faded as she listened again. There was no malice in that laughter. No anger. Timidly, she raised her eyes until she could see the Eternal One’s face.

  Her savior was beaming.

  “Faoii-Kaiya.” The voice was regal and rang with authority despite its softness. “Do not be ashamed. You have done everything I have asked of you. Your strength and dedication have brought you here—to where you are supposed to be.” Illindria, still smiling, reached for Kaiya’s hands and drew her to her feet. Kaiya frowned down at her cracked, bleeding nails, feeling unworthy. The Goddess, however, only smiled. “You were always meant to find your way here, Faoii.”

  “You knew that I would die?” Kaiya’s heart wrenched, and she drew back a pace. She was aware that death would come for her eventually. She was even pleased that she had fallen in battle, rather than in her bed long after the battle cries and glory had faded. But she had thought the Goddess’s guidance was a sign that she was supposed to succeed, not have it end… like this.

  Kaiya felt betrayed. Why had she fought so long and hard, received so many signs of hope and guidance, only for it to end here? Why would the Eternal One offer so much encouragement if the outcome was to be the same?

  Her face must have shown her doubt, because the Goddess smiled and reached out to lift Kaiya’s chin until they met each other’s gaze.

  “Die? This is not death, child. Only a forgotten place.” The woman’s pale arm swept around them, encompassing the vast emptiness that spread into eternity. “Many have passed through this place before, and I hope that someday, many will again.”

  Smoothly, she turned back and reached out her hand once more. “Come with me, Faoii. There is something I would like to show you.” Kaiya stared at the delicate hand for a moment before once again examining her own blood-encrusted fingers. Illindria clicked her tongue. “Come, now. I wielded a sword against demons long before you were born. Do you think I would shy from the blood of one of my heroes?”

  Kaiya blushed and obediently placed her dark hand into the cream-colored palm of her liege.

  “There are few in the world who could do what you have done,” the Carrier of the Eternal Blade said softly as She led Kaiya forward into the whiteness that surrounded them. “The secret of my tonicloran is nearly lost, sh
rouded in fear. The deaths of the overzealous long ago frightened those who should not be afraid and enticed those who should have been cautious. Now dark, brutish men claw at the walls of this place, catching glimpses of what they cannot possibly understand on their way back to your world.” She sighed, shaking Her head. “They will learn little, of course. But it hurts me that they would tear their minds apart for a few scraps of meat they cannot chew.”

  Kaiya looked around at the emptiness and frowned. “Goddess . . . I don’t understand. There is nothing here.”

  That soft, tinkling laughter again. “You are still using your mortal eyes, Faoii-Kaiya. You look to the air and see only air. You see water in rivers and sand on beaches. But you’ve seen more than that. You have danced in these halls before. You’ve seen the fiery wings of my warriors, the amber eyes of my scouts. You’ve seen mountains blossom where only dirt appeared and chains where your enemies have shackled the souls of others.” She looked down at Kaiya, Her eyes sparkling. “Did you think that those truths were any less real than that which you could touch?”

  Kaiya shook her head. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “You have always been able to see this place, this world of mine where all paths, past and future, intertwine. My beautiful woven Tapestry. But it is the tonicloran that lets you pluck the strands.” She smiled lovingly and reached out with the hand that was not grasping Kaiya’s, brushing Her fingers through the air. And for a moment, Kaiya did see it—a ripple in the white clouds that surrounded them. A humming shroud that vibrated beneath the Goddess’s fingers.

  As Kaiya watched, images formed in the white haze, standing out against the spongy oblivion that encircled them. Landscapes and timelines formed in the nothingness, jumping out at Kaiya in stark realism. Then they shifted, and different forms emerged like bubbles from the bottom of a pool. These images, too, faded and shifted to other scenes. Endlessly. Tirelessly.

  The pace increased. A myriad of colors and pictures danced their sickening swirl before Kaiya’s eyes. The world and all within it spread out along the emptiness of the white room. Trees sprouted and spread across a landscape that grew, burned, flooded, and flourished. People spread like ants across hills, mountains, forests, and oceans. A thousand voices and a million heartbeats pounded in Kaiya’s ears.

  Kaiya’s head spun nauseatingly, and she tottered back a step, squeezing her eyelids shut. But the images were still there, growing. Spreading. Changing. She pulled away from Illindria’s gentle squeeze and pressed her palms against her eyelids, but the visions didn’t fade. She thought she would go blind with all the sights and deaf with all the sounds. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. There was too much . . . Too much . . .

  There was a soft whisper from the Goddess, and her mind’s eye closed. The ripple disappeared, and the world grew quiet.

  Kaiya felt Illindria’s hand slip back into hers as She waited for the Faoii to settle again. Long minutes passed before Kaiya could open her mortal eyes once more. The soft whiteness surrounded them, warm and inviting despite the secrets encased within its walls.

  “It takes practice to master, of course,” the Goddess said, squeezing Kaiya’s hand. “And as there are no longer any Preoii to prepare you, no guides to teach you . . .” She sighed sadly. “Do not worry. You will learn.”

  “What . . . what was that?” Kaiya’s voice shook. Her heart was racing, her head spinning. She swallowed. Once. Twice. She was glad she had already voided her stomach recently.

  “Why, this is my Tapestry—the weave of the world and all that are within it. The past, the future, the present—and every variation of each.” The Eternal One gave the air a loving caress, smiling like a new mother. “It is the ward of the Preoii. They have always watched it. Followed its threads. They have always used its stories to guide my people, choosing the paths that offer the most favorable outcome.” She moved her hand again, and an infinitely long cloth formed, spreading out on all sides. “Try again, Kaiya.”

  Unable to help herself, Kaiya looked. A million characters stared back, and she focused on a child sleeping against his mother’s breast. He could only be a few hours old. So small. So innocent.

  As Kaiya watched him, the Tapestry spiraled out before her, pulling her through all the possible outcomes of that boy’s life. In the span of seconds, she watched him age a thousand times, each version slightly different from the last. A thousand outcomes danced outward with every action, every word, every deed. Those choices spread, each to a million other points, affecting a million other people.

  If he steals a loaf of bread here, it will force that woman there to go to another store tomorrow. A button on her dress will snag on the counter. The seamstress that sells her a needle and thread will be able to buy food for another day. She will share a bit of wisdom with a pair of twins . . . But the already disheartened baker will begin to hold resentment for other people in his heart. He will pass it on to his son over the next decade . . .

  Their reactions shaded other stories, leading to a million other choices. A million other outcomes. She watched as uncountable versions of the unnamed boy’s life passed before her. Death at a hundred different hands. Laughter at a million jokes. Love in the arms of a dozen different women. And each choice led somewhere else. A dozen different families. A million different lives. The choices colored generations, all created or destroyed by a single man who remained completely unaware of his impact.

  If he meets the tailor’s daughter, she will bear him two strong sons. They will become politicians and help shape their countries. But if he goes to the smithy first that day, she will be gone before he meets her, away to deliver her father’s wares. Then he will marry one of the women in the next town over, and the tailor’s daughter will marry a traveling merchant from . . .

  Kaiya tore her eyes away from the lives she didn’t know, the futures she didn’t want to see. How could any one person decide which of those million futures were the best? How could anyone look so far into a limitless expanse and come back human? It was too big. There was too much.

  She felt someone’s hand petting her unkempt hair, and Kaiya realized that she was shuddering on the ground, sobbing into Illindria’s gossamer skirts. The Goddess only whispered sweet words in reply.

  “The future is the hardest, child, I know. But you will learn.” She soothed Kaiya until the wracking sobs dissipated. “It has been a long time since Preoii were trained to enter this place. It was their choice to ban the tonicloran and stop training young Weavers to watch the Tapestry. That decision has forced me to stay in this form, among you, so that I may offer guidance when I can. But one person, even a Goddess, cannot control everything at once.”

  “It’s too big. It’s too big,” Kaiya sobbed, still shuddering.

  “Of course it is. It is too much for a single Preoii. In the old days, hundreds of Weavers would watch the Tapestry, working together. United. Now there is only you. Poor child. It must seem like too much. But you must rebalance. Then you will be able to train others to work beside you at the loom.” She sat Kaiya up, grasping her shoulders. Her sapphire eyes bore into Kaiya’s with a sincerity that hurt. “Faoii-Kaiya, you must restore my Order.”

  “How?” The word was barely a whisper, clutched by a gentle breeze and carried away.

  The Goddess smiled. “By continuing as you have done. The tonicloran was in many of your futures, but it was not your only fate to discover this Tapestry now. For now, worry only about the mortal quarrels you and your sisters have suffered. Strike back at the heart of this evil that has unmade your world. You may worry about the Tapestry afterward. Deal with Thinir, then return to me.”

  Kaiya brushed the tears from her eyes and nodded. After the enormity of having seen the future, the task of dealing with one mortal Croeli seemed mundane. But as she thought of the huge, weaving Tapestry again, her stomach churned and her knees shook.

  “I don’t want to come back here. I don’t want to have the world laid out before me. I don’t… I
can’t…” Kaiya floundered.

  “By the time you return, you may want it.”

  Kaiya released a harsh, sobbing giggle. It seemed desperate, even to her own ears. “So I will come back? I’ll survive this?”

  Illindria’s laugh was high and pretty as She clapped Her hands. “I have no idea! I have seen your deaths and your victories. I have seen you laugh and cry, give up and endure, crumble and strengthen. Your choices are your own, and they are infinite. A single moment can destroy or create a hundred thousand different outcomes. It is what makes the Tapestry beautiful and terrifying. But if you return, I will be here.”

  Kaiya opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. The Goddess watched her face. “I recognize that look, child. You want to know whether you should look at the threads and see all the ways that this could end. You wonder whether it can help prepare you.”