“Fear not, my child. You have done well. You’ve done all that I could ask of you.” The Goddess’s white dress swept across the grimy floor as She approached Kaiya from the shadows. Her smile was bright and beautiful. Clean. Lovely. Perfect.
Slowly, Kaiya lowered her sword to the ground. Her eyes flooded as she gasped out a sobbing laugh at Illindria’s approach. “It’s over, then?” She could hardly believe her own words. The Eternal One nodded.
“For now. But the Weave is eternal. Others will rise and fall. The balance must always be maintained.”
Kaiya nodded, taking a shaky step forward. A nagging feeling dragged at her feet, however, slowing her advance. She frowned, coming to an uneasy halt. Something didn’t seem right. There was something in the smoke, something hidden in the blood-splattered walls. Something . . . wrong.
The spreading fire cast dancing shadows on the surfaces of the keep as it greedily made its way across the room. The hair on the back of Kaiya’s neck rose, and a chill came over her despite the blaze, warning her of something different—something she couldn’t quite see . . .
Drawing on what Preoii-Vonda had taught her, Kaiya focused her mind’s eye and forced the Goddess’s world to superimpose itself on the scene before her. The castle stood, soaked in blood and death, but it almost melted away into trees and forests. Thinir still lay broken at her feet, truly and blessedly dead. But it was not him that was strange. Kaiya brought her eyes up to scan Illindria’s smiling face.
It was hidden by the horned god’s scowling helm.
Both images swayed there, unsteady, until Kaiya wasn’t sure which was real and which was not.
They both are. Do you think one truth is any less real than the reality that you know?
Her blade fell shakily from her hand, and she gaped around trembling lips. She saw, but she couldn’t comprehend.
“It was you? The entire time?” Kaiya’s voice was cracked, broken.
“Of course.” Illindria’s smile seemed frightening now, a scowl beneath eyes that had lost their kindness. “They are my people. They are all my people. A mother does not like to see her children fighting.”
“But . . . the tonicloran. All of that suffering. All of the death.”
No. No, no, no.
“There was no other way to ensure its spreading. I had to make sure that you would eventually be exposed to it. I need a Weaver, Faoii. Someone must guide my children after I am gone. They can’t be let loose to ruin things.”
“But . . . a war? Why?” The Goddess took a dainty step toward Kaiya, but the Faoii drew back. The Eternal One stopped and folded Her arms.
“You and the Croeli would have been separated forever otherwise, slowly harboring grudges against myths and letting them fester. I saw it coming when I chose this form, when I chose to walk among you instead of returning to the eternal waters. The other gods said I would lose myself in this body, but I saw that you needed me.” Her eyes glittered as She spoke.
“I tried to unite the clans through peaceful methods first, through your mother and father. But your mother refused to be my Weaver and ran away from my Tapestry. She deserted her children in hopes that they would never learn of it. Her death was painless, but it forced me to look to others who could fulfill my needs.” She took another step forward. Kaiya scooped up her sword and backed up again, eyeing her Goddess with uncertainty and fear.
“You cannot comprehend how long it has taken for things to finally fall into place, Faoii-Kaiya. Convincing that young Faoii to become one with the tonicloran took patience. Without her, your uncle would have become too powerful. I wanted him to lead his men to this place so that you may at last all meet as equals, but he used my gifts without care or boundaries. There had to be balance. The tonicloran offered that.
“But more importantly, without her spreading my most prized plant, you would have never encountered it. You, the last Faoii to see through my eyes. The last one who could watch over the Tapestry once I am gone. Those that were lost to the tonicloran had tragic ends, but it was all for you. My Weaver.” She smiled and reached out Her hand toward Kai’s cheek. “My pretty little Weaver.”
Kaiya pulled her cheek away and did not lower her sword. “You keep saying that you’ll be leaving. Why?”
“This body is not a proper vessel for a god. It takes so much power to maintain it. In the past, the Weavers did what I am doing. They watched the Tapestry and guided my followers. But the Order failed me. They neglected their duties. They feared the role they were meant to fill. I had to remain in this form until I could find another Weaver to start the tradition again. And I have.”
“You had to have known the other plans would fail. You had to have seen my mother, the oncoming war. Mollie, Lyn’s sister . . . you sent them all to their deaths.”
“Yes. But I knew that, if they came to pass, then those failures would set the groundwork for your success. Your father’s death gave your brother the resolve to begin this war against Thinir. Your mother’s death gave your aunt a reason to train you harder. Even your guilt for your shield sister kept you moving when you would have otherwise given up. Do you see how perfectly it all fits together?” She smiled and clapped her hands.
Kaiya saw it. And a cold rage filled her heart. “You’re a monster.” The Goddess nodded.
“Yes, of course. A creature of duality, you remember.”
The cold rage deepened, and Kaiya’s heart burned. Red haze colored her vision, and blood pumped in her ears. She leveled her blade on Illindria, her eyes steely and her growl icy. When she spoke, the sound erupted from her chest.
“No! It’s not enough! The tonicloran, the Tapestry—you used us as your playthings, and those were your tools! The Faoii of old didn’t cut off that world because they were afraid of it—they rose above it! They were trying to save us from your tyranny! They tried to live for themselves, instead of living as your . . . your bloody puppets!”
She swung her blade, and it screamed its terrible scream. Illindria’s fantoii appeared from nowhere, rising to counter Kaiya’s blow. Kai’s voice rose to a shriek, carrying over the blades’ terrifying cries.
“Maybe the women in the days of yore weren’t yet mature enough to prosper without guidance! Maybe they did need you to hold their hands—but we’re past that now. We are more than children who must be guided away from flame for fear of burns.” A howl of rage from Illindria’s fantoii flooded the room, causing the steadily-growing fire to flicker and rise. The Eternal One’s eyes were cold as stone.
Kaiya did not shrink away from that glare, only continued to voice her rage, fueled by horror and hurt. “We have mastered your fire! We have earned the right to govern our own fates!”
The shriek of the Goddess’s blade rose in pitch, like demons in a maelstrom. The fair woman’s face purpled with rage.
“You ungrateful worm! I have given you everything! I have stayed in this form all this time for you—for all of you!”
“Look around you! You have provided only death and suffering!”
“Without my influence, you—all of you—would have known nothing but war and pain!”
“That’s all we’ve known anyway!” Kaiya slashed down with her beautiful blade, forcing her opponent to retreat a few steps. “If we’re going to suffer, then we deserve to make the decisions that lead to that ending ourselves! You think your children would end up slaughtering each other without your influence? Look around! Could it be any worse than this?” She shoved her liege into the wall and drew up to her full height.
“Even you cannot be positive of what we would do without you pulling the strings. I’ve seen the Tapestry. I’ve seen its infinite possibilities. Nothing is set in stone. Not even you.”
Her blade fell in a sudden and uncanny silence.
A moment later, Illindria’s unearthly scream shook the keep. The air vibrated with a force more crippling than any of the spells Kaiya had ever seen summoned, blasting outward from the Goddess’s mortal vessel. Kaiya crashed to
her knees, grasping at her head as Illindria’s power broke free from the body that had encased it, howling through the castle like a torrent of demons in the night.
The enormity of the Tapestry seemed miniscule next to the immensity of the Goddess’s power. Once released, it spread through the crumbling keep, shaking the broken chandeliers and cracking stones with its force. Outside, it broke across the trees, ripping its way back through a world that had struggled without it for too long. It soaked into the alcoves and crannies of a realm that had forgotten the meaning of magic—of Faoii.
Resting Oak, Clearwall, Cailivale, and a million other black holes that had been devoid of meaning while the little bit of power that had trickled through the Goddess’s sieve had made its way into monasteries, sucked from the too-small vessel by women who felt entitled to the world’s most precious and scarce resource.
Kaiya watched Illindria’s body die, and suddenly the world felt . . . right, somehow. Filled and cleaned, like a dry riverbed after a rain. It was never meant to be a place where all the power of creation and life rested in the hands of a few. People were not meant to be controlled like puppets, led down a predetermined path to meet the demands of some ethereal tapestry. She knew this now, and, as crazy as it sounded, she thanked the Goddess for helping her see it. Because even if the Goddess was not a single being anymore, She was still there—everywhere. In everything. As she should have been all along. In the trees and air and stone.
Stone. Kaiya jerked from her reverie, unaware that she was kneeling in a puddle of blood that had once belonged to the most powerful creature in existence. She had not realized that the stones around her were falling rapidly as the earth beneath them shook and shifted. She straightened just in time to dodge a beam that dislodged itself from the ceiling above. Another fell after it. And another. Kaiya sheathed the still-dripping blade and rolled away with one quick movement as the ceiling collapsed entirely.
Illindria’s lifeless body was buried in stone and dust, and Kaiya did her best to avoid a similar fate. But the keep around her was crumbling too quickly, and the ground beneath her feet was unsteady. Twice she stumbled as she made her way to the tower’s door. Twice the keep shook apart at its foundation, breaking the frame before she could reach it. Kaiya tottered to a stop. She spun, her eyes darting warily, looking for an exit. There were none.
The Goddess is dead. She is part of our world and everything in it. Does the world she made for that vessel still exist?
There was only one way to find out. With an unsure step, Kaiya Blinked.
*~*
The Goddess’s hall still stood, but was disintegrating quickly. The Tapestry spun out of control through the room, its future changing in a million ways. Kaiya focused on it only long enough to see the ever-changing present, now so full of fear and uncertainty. Has it ever been any different, though?
She found her destination and willed herself through just as a chunk of the marble ceiling fell. The Tapestry tore under its weight, and for a moment Kaiya found herself in a limbo she did not understand. Illindria’s angry shriek echoed in her mind, mixed with an eternal cry of blessing and gratitude. The sounds swirled around Kaiya, suffocating her. Strangling her. Was that a bronze bell in the distance? Was that Mollie who was singing?
Kaiya gasped for breath, looking for the end of the tunnel she was now trapped in. For a moment, she thought she could see a light, but it faded quickly, drawn into the vortex that also swallowed the screams and pain.
The end was here. She’d tried to make it a good one for everybody. Goddess, how she’d tried.
Kaiya let it take her.
42
Tendaji recognized the change in his opponent’s expression just in time. The glazed, undead eyes focused for a heartbeat, glistening with terror and confusion. His mouth moved a second too late, and his blade fell from his hand just a little too early to be caused by the fantoii swinging toward his neck. Tendaji stopped his blade just as his opponent brought his hands up in surrender.
Next to him, Lyn’s fantoii sliced through her opponent’s neck, and the helmeted head rolled to her feet. The face beneath the scowling mask retained its grimace of terror. Tendaji gripped Lyn’s arm as she raised her blade to swing again. In front of them, the other Croeli had stopped too, their eyes clear and their bodies trembling. A few even tore the scowling helms from their heads in shock and dismay.
“What the blades is happening?” Lyn refused to sheath her fantoii as she circled warily, watching the Croeli with suspicious eyes. Tendaji cast an eye in the direction of the keep.
“Thinir has fallen.”
“How can we be sure? How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Tendaji opened his mouth to respond when a powerful wind suddenly rushed past, making their very bones tingle with an unseen energy. He shuddered in surprise and looked to Lyn for confirmation that she had felt it too. She paled a shade and nodded.
“Tendaji! Come here!” Eili’s voice was frightening in the sudden silence, and Tendaji glanced at Lyn only long enough to see her nod before sprinting to the scarred woman’s side.
Asanali lay gasping on the ground, her liquid eyes roaming the silvery stars that had broken out overhead. Her normally-white smile was stained red. For a moment, Tendaji almost let himself believe that she’d simply been eating strawberries.
“She wants ta talk to ya. I tried ta sing for her, but the wound’s deep. Even without the tonicloran . . .” Eili shook her head. “I ain’t a very good Preoii, Tendaji.” Tendaji set a gentle hand on Eili’s shoulder before kneeling closer to Asanali’s blood- soaked lips. Heat radiated from her skin as he drew near. She seemed to be laughing as she spoke.
“Their shackles have fallen away like ripe figs. Their wings unclipped. He’s fallen.” Tendaji took one of Asanali’s hands even as she choked. Blood bubbled up from between her teeth, but her smile didn’t fade. Eili pet her tangled hair.
“Easy, girl. Easy. Goddess willin’, yer gonna make it outta here.”
“Goddess. Dream Speaker. War Watcher. The wind through the leaves and the water through the ice. She was of flesh and blood, but now She’s a part of the pool again.” The dark eyes fluttered for a moment. “Better this way. I can see Her. She’s free now, too. No longer trapped in a mortal body—a bird in a cage too small. Thought it was better. Thought She could hold it all together with mortal rope. But she’s released. Free. Perfect.” Asanali’s words faded and her eyes drifted closed.
“Girl? Girl, can ya hear me?” Eili shook Asanali, who only smiled weakly in response.
“She wants to thank you. I see your eyes in the pool . . .” The bronze nomad frowned. “No. Not your eyes. Green. Pained. In the keep.” The Danhaid’s eyes flew open again, flooded with a concern so deep that Tendaji knew it wasn’t for herself. Asanali would never be afraid of something as natural as her own death.
He squeezed her hand, but Asanali only shook her head, speaking in quick, clipped phrases that were only briefly punctuated by gasping breaths. The weak tremor to her words was gone, replaced with an urgency that was frightening.
“The world is crumbling. The flood waters will change it. You’ll need Kaiya to guide the flow. She waits behind the bloody stones. You’ll need . . . You’ll need . . .” Her strength exhausted, Asanali gasped into silence. The light in her eyes faded, and her body fell limp. Eili released a tortured sigh, but she did not try to revive the fallen warrior. Instead, she only offered a prayer and closed the lifeless eyes. After a moment, she gazed up at Tendaji with wet cheeks.
“What do ya think she meant by all that? Maybe--” She was cut off by a sudden rumble and earsplitting boom. Tendaji and Eili whipped their heads to the north just in time to watch the keep’s highest tower crumble to the ground. Eili sighed.
“Whoever made it to ’im ain’t goin’ to have an easy time makin’ it back out. At least they got the bastard.”
Tendaji stiffened as something clicked into place. His heart pounded in his chest as he made sense of Asanali�
��s final words. Green eyes. In the keep. Then he was dashing through the trees before Eili even had a chance to stop him.
*~*
“Kaiya! Kai!” The trees around the keep were rocking back in forth with the force of the falling walls. Tendaji ignored them, sprinting between the trunks with a determination that blocked out everything. He pushed himself past the limitations of his broken gait, past the pain in his body and the sickening worry in his heart. Everything that Asanali had said might have been the final ravings of a dying woman, but if it wasn’t . . .
Something glinted out of the corner of his eye. Spinning to a stop, Tendaji focused on the line of trees that separated the forest from the falling stronghold. It glinted again, hidden beneath a layer of dirt and broken branches. Heart quickening, Tendaji had barely hit his knees before he was shoving aside the rubble with shaking hands, nearly cutting himself on the glittering object beneath the grime.
The Last Faoii Page 32
