Kaybree Versus the Angels

by Harrison Paul

  ***

  I met Galen in the courtyard by the frozen fountain. It had been decorated for Midwinter with wreaths of ivy, statuettes of Baldr and others from the Sagas, and seal bones. Since huge snowdrifts were part of the Midwinter décor, they hadn't been cleared around the fountain. I remembered from living in Artium by the western coast that some sagekeeps would have to make fake snow drifts from cotton and use them to decorate. Kant Vakt wasn't one of those places.

  Galen ran his hand along the wreath and smiled over at me. "Good evening, Kaybree. How were your classes?"

  "Fine," I said, clearing a space to sit down at the fountain. "You like the wreath? I helped the decorating crew put it up."

  "It's beautiful," he said. He took a deep breath and let it out. "I just love Midwinter. Don't you?"

  "Aside from the weather?"

  He chuckled. "Good point. No, I meant the holiday." He stared at a statuette of Giles the Philosopher. "We put up images of the philosophers in sagekeeps, but this holiday has been around since long before them. Before the Angels even began speaking to Man."

  This piqued my curiosity. Besides, if I send him off on a tangent, it would cut down our training time. "Really?"

  He nodded. "The Feast of the Saints and the Procession of Visionaries are holidays invented by the sages. Most holidays are like that. We honor the philosophers or some special vision. But the people of Nordgard have been reciting stories to our children for millennia. The tradition of Midwinter saga reading was instituted by ordinary people, not by Angels or sages." He smiled and gazed at the sky. "It's a celebration of human survival against all odds. Our ancestors survived the bitter winters of the Isles, along with crop failure, wars, famines, everything. Although all the world stood against us, we lived and even prospered."

  "I've never thought about it like that," I said, shifting on my stone seat. I was getting cold sitting on the icy stone. "I thought they just told stories so their children would know about their history." I loved hearing stories at Midwinter, like the eternal love of Baldr and Katja, or Osvald's journey across the face of the tundra.

  Galen shook his head. Snowflakes shone in his coppery hair. They seemed to sparkle in the light of the setting sun. "Not only that. The sages say that the Angels inspired the heroes in those stories, but they were people just like us. That's why we honor them, and our ancestors too. They survived, they made the world a better place. And so should we." He grabbed his bag and brushed snow off of it. "Well, we'd better start training. There's not much light left."

  My sword skills had not improved since the last time we practiced. The wooden sword still felt awkward in my hands, and my legs tangled as I tried to move with Galen's languid grace. I couldn't concentrate on moving all four limbs at once. When I nearly tripped over my own feet executing a sword stroke, I threw down the wooden sword in frustration. "I'll never get this," I said. "I'm just no good at sword fighting."

  Galen picked up my sword and handed it back. "You'll get it. It takes time, that's all."

  I rolled my eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're a man. Men are built to fight with big heavy weapons." I swung the sword. It still wobbled and went in weird directions. "Girls weren't meant to swing swords."

  He frowned. "Is that what the sages tell you? Kaybree, you can do anything a man can do." He coughed, and his cheeks reddened. "Well, just about. If you work at it, you can sword fight just as well as any Knight of Valir. And besides, you're a Witch—who knows what you're capable of?" He met my gaze. "Never limit yourself by what others say. People used to say that women would never be able to read, but I'll wager that you can read quite well."

  I shrugged. "I guess so."

  "There," he said, walking toward me. His boots crunched the slushy snow. "If you can read, then why not wield a sword or command an army, or even rule a nation?"

  I smiled. His face always lit up when he talked like this, passionate and full of conviction. "You're right," I said. "In that case, why not teach everyone how to read? If women can learn, then maybe peasants can too."

  "A visionary idea," he said, nodding in thought. A fire burned in his eyes. "Indeed, we could improve a great deal by educating the peasantry. Labor organization, city efficiency, exchange of ideas. Why, I never knew you thought about such things. Perhaps we have more in common than I thought."

  I found myself grinning, though I'd never thought about teaching people to read until today. It just sounded like something he'd like to hear. Like I'd known from our first meeting, there was something different about him. He didn't play the same political games as the students I'd grown up with, or their elder siblings at court. He seemed genuine about what he said, and convinced of what he believed. That's why I trusted him. But I still was unsure of what he'd say about what was hidden in the tower; he turned to ice whenever I asked about the Angels.

  He slid away the practice swords and drew out a blue disc. "We have a few minutes remaining, so you should do some Weapon training. But remember, as much as I want you prepared to fight the Angels, you need to practice safely."

  I paused before taking the disc. "Are the Angels really so bad?" I asked. "They've done good things in the past, right? Why would they suddenly turn against us now?"

  Galen frowned. As I'd predicted, his face turned stony. "No one knows. Until we do, we need your help. Now focus on clearing your mind. You need to be in contact with a Weapon to use your powers, so get used to holding one."

  I took the disc and closed my eyes, following his instructions. When I opened my eyes, the disc emitted a soft glow, but nothing else happened. Either this was a sign of increased control, or he'd chosen a weaker Weapon on purpose. While I held the disc, we chatted about the places we had visited, and I learned that he had lived in almost as many places as I had. His favorite was the bustling metropolis of the capital, where artisans and inventors displayed their latest ideas. I'd hated the capital, with its scheming politicians and endless sea of people, but I admitted that if I'd seen some of the inventions he described, like the farseeing lenses and the gear-powered block printer, I might have liked it better.

  Eventually we headed back to patrol around the sagekeep. As long as I didn't bring up the Angels, Galen talked and laughed like usual. But his hatred for the Angels ran deeper than I'd imagined.

  I could understand why. I'd lost my father to the Angels, and he spoke as if he'd lost loved ones as well. What bothered me wasn't that he hated them—quite the opposite. Rather than speak of revenge, he talked about "defending humanity," like the Angels were plotting our annihilation instead of looking for an object in Vormund tower.

  Mikael's questions stung like an itch at the back of my head, and I wished I could answer them. I hoped that someday Galen would explain to me why exactly I was defending humanity from Angels. But I had the feeling I might have to find that answer on my own.