Good Night

by L. R. W. Lee

  “Velma is learning the error of her ways in encouraging your flight to Wake, but you are equally at fault. You followed her council and fled out of love for her as well as this mortal. Unfortunately in life, we can’t have everything. So for your final punishment, I call you to choose between them.”

  What? “No… no, you can’t be serious!” Panic rose.

  Alfreda shrieked, and the soldier beside moved to restrain her.

  Velma and Kovis exchanged a look but otherwise stood motionless. Had they expected it would come to this?

  “Oh, but I am.” He spoke slowly, as if I was a child being reasoned with. “It seems I can’t have your love, nor theirs.” He nodded to my sisters. “I don’t get what I want, so neither shall you.”

  “But you caused the rift between us,” I argued, despite knowing it was futile.

  He raised a brow. “I beg to differ with you.”

  “I acted to protect my charge!”

  “Who you loved more than me!” he boomed. He bobbed his head, and two of his minions hauled Velma and Kovis behind me, then forced them to kneel, remaining with a hand on each. I whirled around to face them.

  No, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. He’d meant to break me. He’d succeed if he forced me to choose. Gods no! Where were my brothers? Where was Dyeus? Only he could stop this madness.

  “Alissandra, you will do this.” A soldier stepped forward and extended a shiny dagger. I fisted my hand. He could never force me to take it.

  Without turning my head, I eyed the space, noting where each soldier was, the number of their weapons, how many blocked our exit, where Baldik renewed his struggling, spurred on by what had just unfolded, a soldier astride him.

  One blade against so many.

  My power hadn’t worked against the mares before, but I had to try. I focused my mind on the soldiers blocking our escape. Go to sleep. Go to sleep.

  But as before, nothing happened. Mares were immune.

  Father chuckled. He’d no doubt sensed my attempt. “Neither calculations nor powers will do you any good, Alissandra. There is no escape. You must choose.”

  The soldier renewed his offer, extending the blade closer.

  “I won’t.”

  I couldn’t imagine choosing, couldn’t imagine a world without either of them.

  Father chuckled. “Then I guess I shall choose for you… but you will still carry out the deed.”

  No. No. No. I knew how that would end.

  “Be done with this and your punishment will be satisfied,” he reminded in a singsong tone.

  “Ali,” Velma said.

  “No, don’t say anything.” I feared what she’d say and didn’t want to hear it.

  “Ali,” Velma persisted.

  “No!” I waved my arms, as if it would silence her.

  “You must save Wake. You two are the only ones who can.” Resolve filled her voice, and her eyes turned fierce.

  I wagged my head from side to side, unwilling to listen.

  “Make your choice, or I will,” Father commanded.

  The soldier pushed the blade toward me.

  I couldn’t choose. I wouldn’t.

  The chaos and demands faded and silence blanketed my mind. There was one other choice, beyond what Father offered. As soon as the notion surfaced, I knew it was the one I must take. I would take. It was of my own making, and while Kovis would be devastated, it was the only way to save them both. Peace and calm filled my mind. I’d wanted to build a happily ever after with my Dreambeam, but it wasn’t meant to be. And I was okay with that as long as Velma and Kovis were safe. My mind returned to the cave.

  I took the dagger and studied it. It was a fine weapon. I’d trained with blades in Wake, and this one equaled the best I’d handled. Its blade had been polished to a high sheen, and it tossed about the light from the few torches. Its carved handle, oak I guessed, was too large for my small hands. Its weight was greater than any I’d felt before, but it wouldn’t matter. I would take my stand.

  “And if you take your own life, I will still choose between them.”

  Father’s promise shattered the peace, and I sucked in a breath. How had he known?

  “Ali, let me do this. For you. For Wake.” Velma rushed on before I could stop her. “My life has been forfeit since I took a stand against him.”

  Father growled.

  Alfreda sobbed uncontrollably.

  Kovis didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

  Say something, I pleaded with him.

  That would be utterly unfair to you.

  He didn’t beg me to spare his life, didn’t plead in any way or even remind me he loved me. He simply looked into my eyes, absolute trust and love shining there, as if telling me whatever my decision, he would support it.

  Taking my own life wouldn’t save them. Taking one of theirs wouldn’t save me. My soul would die either way. My brothers hadn’t arrived. Dyeus tarried—if he was even coming—and all the other gods remained utterly silent.

  “Choose.”

  Tears streamed from my eyes, clouding my vision. Velma and Kovis both looked at me, eyes clear. How could I choose? Yet I would be forced to, and the horror of what I was about to do, like a monster with a putrid, gaping maw, closed in on me to swallow me whole.

  For Wake, for Kovis, for both our realms…

  I took the longest, most barbarous step I’d taken in all my suns, all my annums, and stopped before Velma.

  She dipped her head.

  Alfreda cried out, then fell to the ground in a heap.

  Velma’s life in exchange for Wake’s salvation, despite there being no guarantee. But her life would not be taken in vain. We would overcome whatever evil Father threw at us, and we would overcome him, no matter the cost to us. Only for that promise, my unspoken vow to her, could I suffer her loss.

  The knife felt so heavy in my treacherous hand as I raised it. My heart raced. She didn’t look at me, as if making this as easy on me as she could. Her black eyes were steady, not a tear in sight, as she stared ahead—resolved.

  “Stop,” Father commanded.

  I turned around in a heartbeat. Did Father mean to just get me to this point of decision, but not intend to suffer Velma’s loss? It would be beyond cruel, but I could imagine him doing such. Hope rose in me.

  He strode from behind me, around Baldik who still squirmed on the ground, and stopped behind Velma. “I want you to look at me when you drive that into her heart, and picture it as what you did to me.”

  Hope shattered, along with my soul.

  “Continue,” he commanded.

  “You can do this, Ali,” Velma said. “Save Wake.”

  My hand shook as I brought the blade up again. “I love you so much, Velma.”

  “I know, and I love you, Alissandra. Now be brave.” She closed her eyes.

  Alfreda wailed.

  Father shifted behind Velma, wanting to ensure I didn’t forget him.

  I gripped her shoulder, and with a wail of my own, I drove the dagger into her heart. I would never in all my suns forget the vibrations from her bones crunching against the blade as it found its mark. Blood. Her blood. Innocent blood. So much of it. Warm. Its tang smelled of death and flowed onto my hand. “Traitor,” it screamed. And something inside me shattered into a million tiny pieces that could never be repaired.

  Velma’s eyes shot open, but she staunched the cry that begged for freedom—she wouldn’t give Father the satisfaction—before bringing her hands up to clutch the hilt, then collapsing onto her side.

  “No! No!” Alfreda screamed at the top of her lungs. She landed on her knees beside Velma, pulled her onto her lap, and rocked back and forth with her in her arms. “Don’t go, please don’t go,” she begged.

  Kovis enveloped me as my knees hit the hard ground, and I broke in his arms.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you,” Father said.

  I shut him out. Her blood coated my hand, marked me, branded me, burned me. I didn’t care
what the bastard had to say. He was not my father. I refused to see him as that any longer. No, he was just a tyrant, a narcissistic tyrant who would be stopped. Despite my anger, the river of tears flowed, unabated. Kovis hugged me tighter, more fiercely, never saying a word—no meaningless platitudes, no words of comfort, for there were none. They didn’t exist, not for this.

  I couldn’t even end my life to find relief, for that would make Velma’s sacrifice a farce. There was no way out. And never would be for what I’d done.

  I pulled free of Kovis’s embrace and turned. Alfreda still rocked Velma, her hands bloody around the dagger that stuck from her chest. But her eyes stared vacantly.

  A whole new round of sobs welled up in me then spilled over. I wanted to collapse onto her, hug her, bring her back, but that damn blade needed to go first. Like Father, it was an abomination that had no place anywhere near her.

  “Alfreda,” I sobbed. “Stop.”

  My sibling’s look was vacant as well when our eyes connected. I said nothing more as I reached for the handle. The knife had been too big, too heavy, too everything, yet it had still taken her life. No, I corrected, I had taken her life. And I would live with that guilt every one of my remaining mortal suns. I set my jaw and gripped the handle, then tore it out and flung it with what little strength remained. I didn’t care where it flew or who was injured, those I loved surrounded me and would never be hurt by it.

  Blood flowed from the wound as a cry rose up, just before the blade clattered to the floor. It echoed about the cold, hard space, mirroring my empty chest. Red pooled above her heart, and I fell forward, unleashing more tears. Alfreda sandwiched me, sandwiched us, with a hug. We’d all been broken. I retreated far from here, into myself.

  How long we stayed that way, I’d no idea, but Kovis gently shook my shoulder, bringing me back. Alfreda gasped and covered her nose as we sat up, joining me in staring at the reeking purple bodies of hairy mare soldiers strewn around the space. At Baldik who stood, holding his captor captive at knifepoint. At Father who frowned not far away, arms crossed, wings furled tightly—his attire was the complete opposite of the two white robed males he stood between, each of whom held a golden sword to his throat. But that’s not what caught my attention. No, it was the muscled, older-looking male with a white beard and hair pulled back in a topknot that captured my focus, standing where Father had stood as he’d passed judgment on me. A white tunic with gold trim flowed to the floor, stopping just above this male’s leather sandals.

  He’d come. Dyeus had come. Too late for Velma, too late for my shattered heart, but not too late to give meaning to our sacrifices.

  His blue eyes were filled with sorrow as he gazed at me, at our heap. He drew a hand to his chest and spoke. “Princesses, my daughter made an impassioned plea on your behalf. I’m only sorry I could not get here sooner, that I could not spare you from this.”

  He turned smoldering eyes on Father. “Ambien, lust for power has blinded you, warped your mind, and consumed you, above all other, even and especially your family. It started as but a kernel, but you nurtured it, fed it, encouraged it to grow. And now, what you so carefully cultivated, has devoured you, wholly and completely, and has become your master.” He went on to iterate all Father’s deeds, most of which I knew about, a few I didn’t, but wasn’t surprised.

  At length, Dyeus pulled a golden rope from his robe. I looked toward Father. His jaw was tight, but his eyes… only I would have seen the barely veiled humor that danced in them.

  He alone would find this amusing.

  “It has been requested that I bind you so that henceforth you will have no power to impose your will on others. And so it shall be.” Turning to Father’s captors he said, “Bring him here.”

  In a heartbeat, Father vanished.

  A collective gasp rose, and I pivoted my head this way and that. What unknown power did he possess?

  A thunderbolt struck the wall behind where Father had stood, just above a mare corpse. And another purple-haired beast materialized. Blood flowed from its unmoving side, the killing blow piercing its heart.

  Alfreda shrieked. Kovis grabbed me, again enfolding me in his arms.

  A mare. A mare. A mare had done this! It hadn’t been Father at all! It’s how he had arrived so quickly after us. It’s why he’d sounded like he had a cold. It was why it seemed like Father regurgitated something practiced, because no doubt this mare and Father had. It’s why he’d found Dyeus’s condemnation humorous, because he planned to trick him. And he almost had. Father was at the heart of this, I had no doubt. His mares were highly trained. No mare-soldier would ever execute a plan of this magnitude outside his sanction. He was a monster and had had his soldiers do his dirty work. He’d escaped punishment. Fury rose in me. He would pay.

  Dyeus lowered his arm, his thunderbolt retracting back inside his wrist, and shook his head, grief written on his features. “It shifted into a gnat and attempted a quick getaway.”

  He knelt down and gazed at Velma, then put a hand to her neck as if… no, he wasn’t checking for the pulse of anything. Velma was well and truly gone. He closed her still-staring eyes.

  What if… wait, could he…?

  “Dyeus.”

  “Yes, princess.”

  “Could you bring her back?”

  He forced a smile but shook his head. “Only the Ancient One gives life.”

  My shoulders slumped. But my brain dwelt on “gives life.” Gives life. Gives life.

  Hope rose in me. We had to try.

  I explained my hasty plan.

  Baldik bid us Godspeed, saying he’d deal with his captive as Kovis picked Velma’s body up and we followed Dyeus out of the cave, to his waiting chariot.

  The four horses pawed the ground and bobbed their heads as we appeared. It was surprisingly roomy inside, far bigger than I had anticipated from first glance. I spread Velma’s bandaged stumps as Kovis lay her body down on the soft, red cushioned seat that extended down the left side, behind where Dyeus stood. Dyeus’s two males secured Velma then took their positions, one on either side of the god. Heart in my throat with hope, I sat down on the right seat, between Kovis and Alfreda, and clutched one of both of their hands. This had to work. It had to.

  Dyeus picked up the reins and commanded, “Hold on.”

  We lurched skyward.

  Alfreda stared at our sister’s still form, crimson leaching across the entirety of the front of Velma’s dress. Alfreda was utterly expressionless, limp, and unmoving, holding herself, her wings as tight as she could make them. Gooseflesh pebbled her arms, but I doubted it was all from the wind that whipped her long onyx hair about. I was no better.

  I stared too. Velma had lost lots of blood. No, it didn’t matter. I refused to let myself wonder “if.” I slammed the door on doubts. I gave them no space, not when it came to my sister.

  I forced my attention instead to the other questions that raged in my mind. Could my shattered heart be remade when Velma was restored? Could I ever forget the feeling of her bones protesting, then giving way against the blade as I drove it into her? Could I ever forgive myself?

  Kovis squeezed my hand. This… was not your fault.

  I met his eyes. His arm no longer bled, but his shoulders slumped. How long had it taken him to work up the courage to say that? After all he’d been through growing up. After how he’d held himself responsible for what had happened to his sister. Was this Dite’s work manifesting?

  But I couldn’t consider that right now. Couldn’t manage even a speck of light in my darkness. Not when it had been my hand driving that dagger into Velma’s heart. Everything… was my fault.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the illuminated spires of the sprawling Palace of Sand rose before us as darkness replaced dusk. Dyeus circled around to the bay side and set down on the beach.

  The god made his apologies—things would be easier if he weren’t there to distract folks from what was critical—but he asked that we let him know the out
come and indicated that his stewards would search out Father.

  Kovis picked up Velma’s body again, and we fought the sand to race up the beach then mounted the steps that curved up to the grand entrance. Selova’s guards again met us, but unlike before, one look and they moved aside, even threw open the doors.

  We breathed heavily as we stopped in the grand atrium. Candles outlined the four floors of the space, between the topiaries, and reflected against the clear glass at the top. Darkness loomed beyond. It might have been an amazing sight if not for our situation and had the stars been out, but clouds still hung heavy.

  Sandrin, Selova’s steward, met us several heartbeats later and stepped quickly when I explained what we needed. It appeared he’d just roused from sleep judging by his hair—it was the first time I’d ever seen it in disarray.

  He dispensed with formality and headed up the first flight of stairs, a silent invitation to follow.

  We stopped on the fourth-floor landing and turned left. Sandrin stopped us outside Selova’s workroom door.

  “She’ll be along promptly,” he informed.

  How word had gotten to her so quickly, I didn’t know, but as promised, she joined us in no time, looking equally unkempt, her long hair uncombed. She might not have tarried with her outfit, but she still sported a unique scarf over her black knit shawl—it was a starfish. Seafoam and white horizontal stripes decorated her leggings.

  Her eyes roamed over us, stopping on Velma’s still, wingless, and bloody body, then turned wide eyes on me.

  I explained, “How this happened can wait for later. What we need is for you to bring her back to us. You give life to the sandlings you create; I’m asking you to do the same for Velma. Please…” That last word came out a prayer.

  Selova took a steadying breath, then stepped closer to Kovis, still holding Velma. She looked her over, assessing.

  “A dagger to her heart…” I bit out, blinking back tears.

  “And her wings?”

  “My father cleaved them,” Alfreda snarled.

  Selova followed her growl, looked her up and down, understanding there was far more to this story, then returned to Velma. “I’ve never attempted giving life to a being other than my creations. I don’t know.” Her lips opened and closed like a fish. “There could be complications…”