by Ziv Gray
Bandim kept his temper long enough for the servants to finish. When they scurried off to the main chamber of his apartments, he stared at himself in the enormous polished looking-plate. Its frame was beautifully carved from the trunk of a giant blackblood tree. It had been a gift from the Selamans to House Tiboli hundreds of cycles before. Bandim ran his ornamented claws along its smooth surface, and shook his head. His horn jewels tinkled quietly. Selama was gone now.
Soon, they’ll all be gone.
Today was the day he would declare war against all who would oppose him. Today was the day the world would shake under the wroth of Bandim Tiboli and Dorai. Today, everyone would know the true meaning of fear…
There was a quiet knock at the door and the emperor turned, smoothing the front of his robes.
‘Your Grace,’ one of his attendants said, his voice muffled by the thick door. ‘The honoured Johrann Maa requests an audience with you before your address.’
‘Send her in,’ Bandim said.
The door to the dressing room opened and Johrann glided in. She smiled from ear to ear, dressed in finery that almost matched Bandim’s.
‘What do you think?’ Bandim asked, lifting his arms to show the elaborate drape of his robes.
Johrann supplicated herself.
‘You look like a god,’ she said, ‘as is right.’
Bandim shook his head and laughed. He raised Johrann up and embraced her.
‘I had to see you before you face the crowds,’ Johrann said, resting in the curve of his arm. ‘What you must say will not be what all your subjects want to hear, nor your neighbours.’
‘I know,’ Bandim said, leaning to kiss her, ‘but it must be done. It is the right thing. We must cleanse this world of the folly of blasphemy and false gods.’
Johrann touched Bandim’s face.
‘You must be a father and a god to them,’ she said. ‘You are not persecuting them, but you must make it clear that deception and disloyalty cannot be tolerated. You must show them the godly way. You are giving them a choice, not a path to death.’
Bandim chuckled and laid a hand over Johrann’s.
‘I will not let my folk down,’ he said. ‘Nor Dorai. Nor…myself.’
‘Show them the way,’ Johrann said. ‘I will be right behind you. Show them that House Tiboli, the Masvam Empire, and the believers in the One True God, are not fools to be trifled with.’
‘I will show them the way,’ he repeated.
Bandim released her. With one final glance in the mirror, he swept from the chamber.
As they reached the doors to the terrace that overlooked the quadrant, servants and officials scurried around like whirlwinds, all falling into their allotted place. The Emperor’s Quadrant was packed with his subjects, chattering and waiting to hear the Emperor’s great proclamation. Bandim’s heart hammered as if he was racing into battle. Here he was, the emperor, standing near the spot where his brother had been murdered—at Bandim’s bidding. But he was not afraid. Bandim Tiboli, Dorai, was never afraid.
The high-pitched cry of a horn cut like a blade. The square fell silent as the herald stepped up to speak.
‘His Imperial Majesty, Sole Ruler of the Masvam Empire, Protector of the Realm and Defender of the Faith, Conqueror of Heathens, Scorcher of Souls, son of Braslen Tiboli, grandson of Maram Tiboli, Emperor Bandim Tiboli.’
The crowd erupted in an enormous peel of cheering and jubilation. With that, Bandim strode to the balcony lip, his entourage sweeping behind.
He let his subjects celebrate, imbibing the adoration, before he raised a hand for silence. The crowd immediately obeyed. Every ear was tweaked to him. The acoustics ensured Bandim’s voice would carry to each and every one of them.
‘My loyal subjects,’ he said, his voice clear and strong as steel, ‘it is with joy that I confirm the great power of the Masvam Empire is once more stretching beyond our borders. We have made preparations, and today, at last, we will begin our attack on the so-called Queendom of Althemer. Soon, it will no longer be a heathen queendom, but rather it shall be part of our glorious empire!’
There was a surge of enthusiasm from the crowd, but Bandim quieted them again. They will have no qualm with that, he thought. And if they do not like the next part? Well, that is of little concern to me…
‘We have many Althemerian and half-Althemerian folk living in our great empire, just as we have Selamans and half-Selamans, and most recently, our brethren from Metakala. Some of you may be before me now, and all of you will call at least one a neighbour or even a friend. I do not wish to persecute these folk, who have long lived in our midst, or indeed, those who have recently come into our fold. The greatness of our empire comes from our breadth of experience and culture.
‘However,’ Bandim continued, strengthening the steel in his tone, ‘now that I am on the throne, it is time to purge a great evil. I am placing an official decree into our laws. All Masvam citizens are required to come forth and sign an oath of fealty to the empire. Part of that oath requires that you abandon all practice and supplication to the false god, Nunako.’ The atmosphere changed. There was a tinge of fear. Bandim took a breath before he continued, allowing the news to sink in. ‘Any citizen who refuses to swear their loyalty to this empire and to the One True God, to me, must leave these lands. And those who refuse to leave?’ He waited. The square was silent as stone. ‘They will be executed.’
When Bandim paused again, there was no sound among the crowd, except for the snapping of the Tiboli banners in the wind.
‘There is no need for anyone to lose their life,’ he said. ‘It is not the desire of the Masvam Empire, of Dorai, of me, to persecute those who have lived as brothers and sisters for so many cycles. It is not your fault that you have been blinded by the False God and the promise of the Light. I wish for us to come together under one banner, to cease the endless to and fro of land and life, all in the shadow of a false promise.’
He closed his eyes as he let fervour build.
‘The so-called Light, the god Nunako—these things are folly,’ he spat. His eyes snapped open, gleaming. ‘We will tear down the temples of the heathens. We will root out every notion of false hope and false gods from our lives, and embrace the truth and purity of Dorai. It is not darkness. It is truth, truth, truth!
‘From today, we declare war on those who stand against us. We will strike hard against the heathens, starting with the Althemerians and their heretical worship of the false gods Ethay and Apago. We will continue the great work of my father, and his father before him. We—will—conquer! Those who are loyal to their Masvam emperor will be declared true citizens, and allowed to live here freely. You will be given land, riches, the bounty of all kingdoms. You will flourish! And those who do not?’ Bandim paused, mastering the crowd. ‘They will suffer death, and nothing less.’
There was another moment of silence. The subjects balanced on a knife edge. Still, Bandim didn’t tremble. I know I am right. Then a voice below began to chant.
‘Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!’
Within seconds, more voices joined in from around the square.
The air was alight with loyalty.
Bandim let it wash over him, cleansed by their allegiance. Johrann fell in at his side. He turned to her and, for several moments, they revelled in the sound of devotion.
Yes, Bandim thought. The time of Dorai is finally here...
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Nunako and Dorai
‘I am the daughter of gods,’ Bomsoi said. ‘I am the joiner of hands.’
Mantos’s jaw hung loose as the strange healer, now reanimated, stared at him with a grin, as if what she had said was as mundane as a comment on the weather.
‘You’re what?’ he asked.
Bomsoi gave him a shallow bow. She opened her hands, showing her palms.
‘I am the daughter of gods,’ she repeated. ‘I am the joiner of hands. You asked me who I was, and I have told you.’
&nbs
p; Mantos pressed his hands to his temples.
‘You cannot claim to be descended from gods and expect me to believe it!’ he said. He dropped his hands and tilted up his chin. ‘You are a Darkwitch,’ he said. ‘You are evil.’
‘Mantos!’
Fonbir’s eyes were wide as moons as he stared at Mantos for his impudence. But Mantos didn’t back down.
Bomsoi, however, laughed deeply, and shook her head.
‘Call me what you will,’ she said, ‘but I am not evil. I don’t expect you to believe I am who I say I am. You asked me to tell you what exactly I am, not tell you something you would believe. And now, you know.’
Mouth still gaping, Mantos whirled on Fonbir. By the paleness of his face, Mantos knew the answer to his question, though he asked anyway.
‘Did you know this?’ His voice strained with disbelief.
‘I… I did not,’ Fonbir said. ‘I knew that Bomsoi was strange and powerful, but I did not know she was a god.’
‘I am the daughter of gods,’ Bomsoi corrected gently. Her smile dimmed. ‘But I am no god.’
Mantos’s words flew out with enough force to summon demons.
‘This is nonsense!’
His screech brought a clatter of guards bursting into the room, though Fonbir ushered them back. Bomsoi clasped her hands in front of her abdomen and shook her head.
‘It is not nonsense,’ she said. ‘It might seem senseless, but it is not nonsense.’ She paused before continuing. ‘I think it is time we had a long talk, you and I. We need to talk about your brother—and you.’
‘What—?’
But Mantos’s words were cut at the quick, and the next thing he knew, he was falling, falling, falling…
#
Where am I?
His thoughts echoed from all directions.
Where am I?
Where am I?
Falling and falling into an endless abyss, Mantos whirled through the freezing air. Exposed skin burned with the cold, his fronds whipping up and around as he hurtled through oblivion.
And then he was on the ground again, nestled in a snow drift—and yet he was no longer cold.
‘Where am I?’ he called.
His words did not return this time. Instead, he received a reply.
‘You are in my home.’
Mantos looked up. It was Bomsoi, resplendent in sparkling robes, one hand outstretched to him. He allowed her to pull him upright. He stared, drinking in every detail of the icy vista.
There were sheer ice cliffs and towering evergreen trees, all dusted with glimmering snow. The sky was black, pinprick stars blinking and winking in its velvety darkness. But there were no moons.
‘Where am I?’ Mantos asked again.
When Bomsoi chuckled, the sound rumbled across the vacuous landscape. It felt as though there was nothing else alive but them.
‘You are like all princes,’ Bomsoi said. ‘You talk much and listen little. I told you where you are. You are in my home.’
Feeling his face flush, Mantos snarled.
‘Where is your home?’ he clarified.
Bomsoi’s response was typically vague.
‘Everywhere,’ she said. ‘And nowhere.’
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Mantos instead closed them.
‘Why have you brought me here?’ he asked.
‘I need to tell you about your brother,’ Bomsoi replied. ‘And you.’ She chuckled, though the sound was tainted with sorrow. ‘And me. Yes… I need to tell you about me.’
Opening his eyes, Mantos shook his head. He stomped across the snowdrift and sat on a bank, his head reeling from the lack of cold.
‘Then tell me,’ he said. ‘I have little choice.’
Bomsoi chuckled anew, the brightness back in her voice. She glided over, making no imprint in the snow, and settled on top of the drift. She loomed over Mantos, for the warmth of his body made a nest in the snow.
With a sigh, Bomsoi pressed a hand to his cheek. Her eyes glowed blue. When she began to speak, her lips did not move. The words sounded inside Mantos’s head.
Before time existed, the goddess Meia existed. The Goddess Meia, the Grandmother of the World, existed before all things, and all things come from Her.
The Goddess poured forth her love, and created the world and all the stars and moons in the heavens. And once She had created the world, She picked the littlest of the claws from both hands, and turned them into two younglings, for whom She would have the greatest love, and whom She would call Nunako and Dorai.
To Nunako, the Goddess Meia gave the powers of steadfastness and determination, and sent her out to bring into existence the workings of life. To Dorai, She gave the power of lovingness and kindness, and sent her forth to cultivate and care for those to whom Nunako gave existence.
Now, Meia created for Nunako and Dorai many worlds and moons, and the two Goddesses created an abundance of life. One day, Dorai came to Nunako and told her of a desire to create a new life, a life that could strive to understand their Godly nature, with thoughts that could comprehend them and a heart that would worship them.
So, using the bounty of the land they had forged together, Nunako sent forth animals to graze on the grassy fields, to burrow in the mountains and to swim in the boundless seas. But none of these creatures were what Dorai desired. And so, Nunako worked hard, and finally created a new life in their divine image.
Thus, the Younglings were born. In the youth of the new life, Nunako and Dorai walked among them. Nunako showed them how to work the earth and the seas and skies, how to tame the animals and till the fields. Dorai taught them to show loving kindness to one another and to the world, so that they would live forever in perfect harmony.
However, as with all things, this was not to last.
Soon, the Younglings began to chop down more trees than they needed, to kill more animals than they could eat, and even turned on one another, forgetting the lessons their godly Mothers had taught them. As the Younglings turned their backs on the Goddesses, Nunako and Dorai found they could no longer walk the lands or sail the seas. Both Goddesses turned to one another, not knowing what to do to regain the love of their Younglings. With their power draining away, they took their littlest claws, as once Meia, the Grandmother, had done, to create a creature to take their place in the world.
But they did not want to risk the new goddess being powerless. A life born of both God and flesh would surely never be banished from the world. Thus, they placed the claws in an egg, leaving it in the house of a godly male named Aisen Lelg, who had never raised younglings of his own.
And so they waited. And eventually, the new life came to light—the One of Balance.
This new life, part-god and part-flesh, was to bring the Younglings back into the fold of the Goddesses. But Nunako and Dorai soon discovered that their creation had the strength of a god, but the weakness of flesh, and would not do as they asked.
And so, the Goddesses came to hate each other. Abandoned by their folk, enraged, both blaming the other for their failure, Nunako and Dorai turned their backs upon one another. And Meia could do nothing as they cleaved the Younglings in two.
The Goddesses spread their influence, no longer corporeal, but appearing in spirits and dreams, commanding the Younglings to build towers and shrines and altars—for the more the Younglings worshipped them, the more powerful they became.
Nunako and Dorai became drunk on their power, demanding more and more. And Meia could only watch and weep.
The One of Balance should have cleared the world of hate. But she did not. She retreated to the mountains and made her own folk, and she did not venture down for many centuries. Not until the Grandmother of the World showed her the path upon which all life walked, and the thread that was about to unravel.
What has been made cannot be unmade, she told her, but what has been made can be destroyed.
By the time Bomsoi removed her hand, she was weeping. Unable to stop himself, Mantos placed a hand
on her shoulder. For all he distrusted her, her grief was palpable.
‘Bomsoi…’ he began.
‘Yes,’ the female said, tears spilling from her chin. ‘That is my name. Bomsoi. The One of Balance. But I did not do what I was born to do,’ she said, her voice taking on a razor’s edge of rage. ‘I turned away. I ran. I fled. I could not bear the burden that was placed upon my shoulders. But my cowardice has caused the deaths of so many, of nearly all my folk. And now I must make amends for my weakness. I must do what I was bid and bring balance to this world.’ She turned her blazing eyes upon him. They were twin blue flames. ‘And to do that, I need you.’
‘Me?’ Mantos said, withdrawing his hand as if he had been burned. ‘Why me?’
‘Because your brother has been meddling with powers he doesn’t understand,’ she said. ‘He has unleashed the power of Dorai unto himself. It is only a matter of time before the goddess’s mangled spirit takes control of his corporeal form. You are not like him, but you were sired together, hatched together, raised together. You are one.’
Mantos stood and paced away. Then he whirled around, his fronds and tail spinning in his wake.
‘And what would you have me do?’ he asked. ‘Kill Bandim? Kill my brother, who has become a god?’
‘He is not a god,’ Bomsoi said, standing again, ‘but he has a corrupted Heart. Soon the god will consume him, and your brother will be gone forever. And we will not be able to stop the evil that threatens the world.’
Mantos jabbed a talon at Bomsoi.
‘You are the daughter of gods,’ he said. ‘You are the one to stop him.’
‘Were it that simple, I would have done so already,’ Bomsoi said. Each word was laced with sorrow. ‘Were it that simple, I surely would. But I cannot. I need you. That is why I brought you from the brink of death. I need you.’
The desperation in her voice echoed into the expanse. Mantos’s wrath cooled and he took a pace forward. He tilted his chin.
‘What would you have me do?’ he asked again. ‘Tell me.’
The pause that followed made his neck scales rise.
