by Aaron Bunce
Luca followed Poe as the path stepped down onto a cobbled roadway. It curved around a large, round fountain, a graceful, curving statue at its center. The statue depicted a woman, her elegant dress morphing into smooth, silken feathers as it flowed down her body. Magnificent wings sprouted from her back, spreading wide behind her.
“Who is that?” Luca asked in awe.
Poe chuckled, but slid forward gracefully and caught him as Luca stumbled, his bad leg going rigid unexpectedly.
“It does that sometimes,” Luca said, meekly offering his thanks.
Poe growled a response, but waited until Luca became steady on his feet again before moving away.
“She is Manriel ‘al Unethra, first prophet of J’ohaven, the white priestess. Your people call her Mani, I think. We do not worship her as goddess like you, but as honored servant, and matron to our ruling assembly. She is keeper of purity, integrity, and innocence,” Poe said.
“Wow,” Luca whispered, turning his head to keep the statue in sight, but snapped his head forward again when it became too painful.
Beyond the statue stood a wide stair, Poe fussing over Luca as he helped him climb. Luca wanted to tell the short dalan that he could manage, but Poe frightened him a little. All the dalan did. They were strange and wonderful, but also full of mystery.
“This is Assembly, where Matrons rule dalan islands,” Poe said, helping Luca up the last step and onto the platform. “Matrons sit council here. Their life is dalan people and only dalan people, until moon turns over many seasons and new Matrons chosen. Their only sustenance is the words of their people.”
Before him loomed a platform shaped like a crescent moon, curving around a raised dais and lectern at its center. Four dark statues stood on marble pedestals in the middle of the dais.
Luca limped down the stairs, Poe right next to him. They reached the bottom, their small group fanning out and sitting on curved benches. He moved to sit, but Poe caught him by the arm and guided him over to stand next to the lectern.
Juna walked by, her steps silent, her flowing garment rippling around her as she stepped up onto the dais. Altair moved to stand on the opposite side of Luca, his soft face expressionless. Juna cleared her throat softly, rolled up the voluminous sleeves of her garment, and laid her palms flat on the lectern. A high keening filled the air as strange runes glowed to life on the stand, the stone bubbling and melting, forming into what looked like slithering snakes.
Luca tensed and tried to move away as the horrible forms squirmed up Juna’s body, twisting around her arms and disappearing into her sleeves.
“They’re killing her,” Luca moaned, but Poe put an arm around his shoulder and held him.
“Shh. She is honored voice among dalan. Only honored dalan voice can be heard by Matrons,” Poe said, quietly.
The slithering stone snakes crept up through Juna’s hair, twisting around her forehead, until they formed what looked peculiarly like a crown. The matrona let out a deep breath, her eyes suddenly filled with a pulsing blue light, the stone snakes flowing down her body and rooting her to the lectern.
“Reid asal, Tēs a singulata Juna,” the matrona said next, her voice reverberating through stone all around them. “Ahai’l honored ones, Matrons, mothers to us all, knowledge and wisdom embodied. Here my voice and judge our words,” Juna said, her foreign tongue abruptly twisting about in Luca’s ears until he could understand.
“What is it doing to her?” Luca mumbled, a sour knot of fear growing in Luca’s belly, but before Poe could respond the keening returned.
Movement caught Luca’s eye, runes glowing to life on the pillars beneath the statues. The marble bubbled and roiled, the stone peeling back and opening. A figure appeared from each of the columns, the stone winding around them and lifting them into the air to hover above the group.
Luca’s arm and jaw hurt. He pushed back into Poe, the small dalan holding him in a protective embrace. The four strange women, their faces long and gaunt, opened their eyes. Luca turned away. He wanted to run from them, to where their horrible eyes could not find him. They looked like shadows of people, the nightmare that clings to a person after waking.
“Your voice is strong, Matrona. We are listening,” the Matrons said in unison, their voices resonating from the stone pillars.
Juna turned and looked to Luca, her pulsing blue eyes shifting from him to Emma. On impulse, Luca grabbed Emma’s hand and squeezed it tight. To his relief she didn’t pull away, instead drew closer.
“Blessed mothers, we seek your wisdom. Our people have received these children as unexpected guests, led to us by one of old dalan blood…Cassendyra. The white fox, long removed from this place, led them to a hidden portal. She promised the boy that she would heal his maladies. The boy tells us that she carries a message – one of dark potential for our people. A message of the Nym,” Juna said, turning back to the Matrons.
“And where is the white fox? We do not sense Cassendyra before us,” the Matrons intoned.
“The blood traitor was seized, my Matrons,” Altair said, taking a half step forward, his voice ringing loudly. “Cassendyra abandoned her people, choosing to live amongst lesser beings. The guardian totems served their purpose. We heard the magic’s call and located the blood traitor and the children. The white fox fought us, using forbidden blood magic against her own kind, but true dalan prevailed. She rots now…where she belongs.”
A flush of anger twisted Luca’s gut, his face flushing hot. Altair’s words, even his voice, were filled with hate. He didn’t understand why the man despised her so much, but it felt wrong. Cassendyra told Luca that she would help him, and although she hadn’t made good on her promises yet, he didn’t believe that she was a liar. Were Luca and his people so treacherous?
“She didn’t attack anyone! She was defending me!” Luca shouted before he could stop himself.
“Silence, boy! You have no voice here! You are no better than an uncontrollable beast. You desecrate this place,” Altair said with a sneer. The Matrons’ eyes glowed to life, showering them all in blue light.
“We are the voice of wisdom here, Altair First Blood. We grant voice to any we deem – any with a message valuable to our people, not you. You are honored protector, but your words are daggers aimed at a wounded child. Step back from us before you sacrifice your honor,” the Matrons said, their voices booming through the clearing like thunder.
Altair flinched, stung by the four women’s words, and lowered his head, backing away several paces.
“Matrona Juna, we sense much emotion surrounding you. No, not just emotion, something dark. We desire to hear the voice of Cassendyra,” the Matrons said next, their voices lowering until they were barely a loud whisper.
Juna looked sideways to Luca and Emma before responding, her eyes sparking with the same blue glow. “Honored Mothers, that is why we seek your wisdom. Not only does the magic of the totems threaten the well-being of these children, preying on their individual weaknesses, but Cassendyra lies within the Sted à glemme, bound, buried, and silenced. The longer these children linger here, the greater the possibility that our magics will twist, harm, or eventually kill them. And the longer Cassendyra fades in darkness, the longer her warning goes unanswered.”
Altair murmured something under his breath, but did not move forward again.
“Dire news all,” the matron on the left said, her eyes glowing brighter than the others, “the dalan have enjoyed ages of quiet peace, despite Denoril’s children living so close to our borders. These events trouble us. Never before have non-dalan trod upon this hallowed ground. Cassendyra is of dalan blood, and despite what some believe, her choice to live elsewhere does not change that. I wish to hear the white fox’s words from her tongue.”
“The alarm bell has tolled before, but we have always stayed the prudent course. Our people are long to consider, and slow to react. The correct path is found in patience. Our strength has always been our unification, our reliance on blood, and our adh
erence to wisdom. Altair was appointed our guardian because he is strong and wise. His voice, like his blood, is pure. Cassendyra has been away from her people too long, her blood now corrupted by a corrupting people. She should remain buried, where ages of darkness can either cleanse her blood, or send her rightfully into madness, and then, oblivion. These children can bring only trouble to our people. They should not be allowed to leave this place. They will lead their kind to our shores, and with them, misfortune and death. The mortal life is fleeting in the eyes of the undying ages. Allow these children to live out their short lives here, and let the threat of their people fade with their deaths,” the next Matron down the line said.
Luca listened, struggling to comprehend exactly what the haunting women were saying. Undying ages…short lives? He looked to Poe, the small dalan’s face scrunched up in a snarl. He sniffed the air, and caught Luca’s gaze.
Juna cleared her throat, but did not speak.
“Juna, you are as you have been since our beginning – a true mother, voice, and dalan. If you believe there is a threat to our people, then I believe the Assembly needs hear it directly. The prudent dalan understands weakness as well as strength, and lets no risk or threat go unanswered. I say bring forth the white fox, unearth her from the Sted à glemme. It is neither wisdom nor mercy to allow the suffering of children. If our land puts them in danger, then I say put them in Juna’s charge, and let her decide the best course,” the next said, her voice softer and more considered than the last.
Emma squeezed his hand, her strong grip making his hand ache. Poe growled quietly, and leaned in ever so slightly.
“Matrons must reach agreement; if split, then authority stays with Altair,” Poe whispered, “and Cassendyra remains in darkness.”
Luca’s gaze shot over to Altair, the peculiar dalan’s face stretched in a subtle, but undeniable smile.
“A flock scatters before danger,” the final Matron said, and Luca felt his belly tighten. “Thanks to the guardian totems, our islands are safe, and will be for ages beyond count. We have always left the children of Denoril to their own ways, allowing them free reign to claim, destroy, kill or live as they see fit. We need not frighten our people unnecessarily now…not when peace and security have brought balance to the scales. Cassendyra, blood traitor or not, has returned. Some dalan will view this as a joyous homecoming, while others will spit upon the ground at her feet. Regardless of the emotion, the dalan are safer now that she has returned,” the final matron said, her face round and her features soft. Luca felt the knot in his tummy loosen a little. Poe’s snarl disappeared.
“With the white fox returned, all dalan kind is unified. With her returned, we need no longer fear that she will parlay our secrets to the treasonous grave robbers. Instead of letting our eldest sister spin webs with her words, confuse truth with fear and panic, and lead good dalan astray, I say bury Cassendyra deeper. Deposit her in the deepest hole of the Sted à glemme, and send these creatures with her,” the final matron finished, her words splashing against him like icy shards.
Luca rocked back on his heels. Creatures!? What did it mean? Were they not going to help? Was he going to stay a cripple forever? Would he ever get to go home?
“Matrons, wisdom embodied, voice of our people, we need prudence now more than ever. The totems are a powerful shield held before our people, but like a shield, it blocks our sight of the world around us. The white fox carries a message of darkness, one of the Nym. If she is right, then our people are in grave danger. We know our enemy better than any other, but we also need to know…to see them, before they are standing before our door. This is a risk too great to overlook. Altair would place these children in a boat, and set them adrift with no help or bearing. Our people, graced with ages of experience and knowledge have become lost at sea, what hope do we place with a pair of children? I ask for your conjoined wisdom,” Juna said, her plea echoing throughout the courtyard.
Emma wept quietly next to him, glassine tears running uninhibited down her cheeks. Luca felt cold inside, his body growing numb. Poe placed a hand on his shoulder, the small dalan’s eyes large and colorless, but not without emotion. Luca could see his pain, anger, and sympathy.
The Matron Assembly went quiet, their eyes pulsing like gentle, blue fireflies. The heartbeats stretched on, Emma squeezing his hand so tight his fingers had gone white. The wind picked up, whistling through the enormous trees around them. It sounded oddly like voices. Voices singing a distant and haunting song. As soon as the wind died down, a crackling noise filled the air, the matrons turning towards Juna in unison. Their eyes glowed brightly, an instant before their voices filled the clearing.
“Honored one, we thank you for coming before us. You honor us, your people, and the dalan way. Your words ring with the truth of your blood. At the same time, we see no reason to second-guess our appointed guardian. Altair’s voice is trustworthy, his blood and wisdom proven by an age of dedication to the people. We have carefully considered your requests. We believe the white fox should stay in the Sted à glemme, as Altair requests. We have remained united as a people only because we have remained true to our blood and voice – stayed faithful in our ways and traditions. Cassendyra left our people to live amongst Alrik, and stayed to live with his remnant after the Fanorian fall. We fear the possibility that she has adopted their beliefs, and her loyalty should be in question. It is our wisdom that she remains in the Sted à glemme until a time in which a new Matron Assembly is chosen to lead. We can only hope that in that time, she is cleansed by the darkness and comes to learn the errors of her ways. Therefore, she will not see the sun before that day.
“The issue of Denoril’s children troubles us. There is no wisdom in suffering, but then we are forced to ask even more disconcerting questions. Will allowing them to leave, with knowledge of this place, bring more of their kind? Will that act of mercy bring suffering onto our people? We believe that it could. Therefore, the children will remain here, to live out their days as guests of the people, so their memories of us will be of kindness and wisdom. We charge you, Juna, honored one, with their safety and well-being – to make their short lives as comfortable as possible. This is our wisdom,” the Matrons said, their eyes dimming as they finished.
Juna, Altair, and Poe bowed low, and the Matrons abruptly pulled back into the columns, the stone melting into place and covering them completely. Luca turned to Emma, then to Poe, and finally to Juna. The stone snakes slithered back down her arms and melted into the lectern.
“What does that mean? We have to stay here? What about Cassendyra? Is she not going to heal me? Are they going to get her now? I’m confused,” Luca sputtered, Emma crying openly next to him.
He turned to Poe, the small dalan staring daggers at Altair, who slowly walked towards them. Luca turned to Juna next and took a step her way. The necklet tingled around his neck and a stab of pain flared in his leg. He stumbled, caught himself and looked to the matrona’s gift. The silver metal was losing its luster, the edges starting to crumble away.
“Juna? I don’t understand…” Luca asked, searching the woman’s mirror-like eyes, but it was Poe that responded first. The small dalan hooked an arm around Luca and then Emma, and pulled them towards the stairs.
“Not here, child. Come. I will explain it to you at my home, where there are fewer ears,” Juna said, appearing behind Poe and ushering them down the stairs.
Chapter Twenty
Rooted Out
Julian watched the woman’s back in front of him, trying to keep his head down and Nightbreaker tight against his leg. She limped, clutching her arms to her chest, a strangled wheeze marring her breath. He winced, expecting her to break into terrified sobs at any moment and bring the beasts down on both of them, but he quickly realized it wasn’t panic, but something else.
Blood seeped through the back of her brown, cotton dress where the gnarls had beaten her. She slumped, her shoulders heaving as she fought for every breath. She coughed. It was a wet, rasp
y sound that spoke to fluid, perhaps blood, filling her lungs. Anger spiked inside of him. She was their prisoner, and more than likely didn’t fight them, but they still beat her mercilessly. Without a healer, she wouldn’t last much longer.
Are there any healers left?
He watched her feet drag forward, remembering the leaden feeling all too well. If she died on their long march through the city, they would simply break her loose from her chains and dump her body on the side of the road – just another wasted life. Too much, Julian simmered.
They walked up a curving lane, moving wide around a fallen building. The woman before him stumbled, the chains clinking loudly. Julian acted out of instinct, and surged forward, grabbing her around the sides. The woman staggered again, but Julian held her upright. She coughed and wheezed, but managed to get her feet moving again.
A loud crack split the air as a whip snapped just over Julian’s head. He flinched involuntarily. The gnarl appeared next to him, a heartbeat before a whip handle swung in. Stars exploded before his eyes, his head knocked sideways by the strike. When his vision cleared, he found the creature berating the slumping woman, froth covering the beast’s mouth. It pushed her sideways, shaking the club-like handle threateningly in her face. Julian watched the woman fall into a violent coughing fit, slump, and almost fall.
They cleared the fallen building, the line of people curving around a wide sinkhole in the ground. Julian reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the injured woman and angry gnarl. The hole was massive. It swallowed up the bulk of the roadway, even claiming the front half of the buildings on the opposite side.
A dozen ladders protruded from the hole, while lanterns glowed like fireflies in the darkness below, affixed to the rock and dirt in regular intervals. Figures moved in and out of the limited pools of lantern light, some moving up the ladders, and others down. He watched a woman emerge on one ladder, a covered basket balanced on top of her head. She crawled free of the hole and adjusted the basket, her dress sleeves falling back to reveal a wide, shiny bracelet.
