by Dawn Cook
Bailic paused, and his face went slack. “But you already know him,” he whispered. “Why else would he have greeted you like that? How is it, Alissa, that you already know the Warden?”
Alissa’s eyes went wide, and she and Bailic turned their attention to Lodesh.
“Ah—oops!” Lodesh shrank back and grinned apologetically.
“Oops?” Useless raged. “Your mooning about finally catches up with you, and all you can say is oops?”
“I’m sorry, Talo-Toecan,” Lodesh apologized, making frantic motions at her. “I see a pretty face, and I can’t help myself.”
Her book! she realized, and using Lodesh’s distraction, she lunged. Her outrageously long fingers stretched out and actually touched its silken pages when Bailic’s booted foot smashed down upon their thin frailty. Bones snapped as he maliciously ground his heel. Agony flamed, and an involuntary scream escaped her as she pulled away. Alissa lashed her tail, but he ducked, and it slammed into a mirth tree with a dull thunk and an accompanying wash of pain. But it wasn’t the tree that shattered, it was her.
“Alissa!” Useless and Strell simultaneously cried. But she heard nothing else as an impervious field cracked into existence around her. Suddenly her crushed hand and tail were the last thing on her mind, as she found herself struggling to breathe.
“Out!” she screamed in the thick darkness of her mind. “I must get out!” Panic ruled her, and she would have been lost if Beast hadn’t laughingly reminded Alissa she could hold her breath for longer than the short time it would probably take to break Bailic’s field.
Appearing to go unconscious, Alissa relaxed, mentally kicking herself for having shown an impervious field to Bailic. She had forgotten all about him when she so innocently bound that small, gray, whatever-it-was this morning. Could it really have been only this morning? she wondered as she ran her awareness over Bailic’s field to find it perfect. Well, it won’t be perfect for long, she thought.
With the utmost of care, Alissa made a point of her awareness as sharp as she could imagine it. She strengthened it with her resolve, then sent it furiously into Bailic’s field. It made only the tiniest hole as it shot through, but it was enough. His field shattered, its cohesion broken. Sitting up, she cradled her injured hand and took a gulping lungful of the cool, damp air as she tried to figure out what had happened.
“Strell!” she shrieked and sprang, wings outstretched, to where he lay unmoving.
Lodesh was crouched beside him. “Stunned only,” he said tightly as she landed. “Talo-Toecan miraculously managed to get ahead of him and deflected the worst of it. He will recover, but I imagine his head will hurt for a while.”
“What happened?” she asked, her thoughts harsh with worry and guilt.
Twin explosions in quick succession shifted the air. Gasping, Alissa whipped about to see Useless thrown across the clearing. She half rose to help him, but he picked himself up and limped to stand before them.
“Cursed book,” he swore, dabbing at a bleeding lip. “It always was touchy, but this is totally unreasonable.” He glanced back at a wide-eyed Bailic, then half knelt by Strell. “Will he mend?” he asked quietly, watching Strell’s slow breaths.
Together, Lodesh and Alissa nodded.
“Good.” Useless stood. His eyes hardened as he faced Bailic. Lodesh also stood, and together they watched Bailic slink backwards, looking like the twisted shadow he was in the fading light. They could do nothing to stop him. They were powerless before the book.
Bailic put his back against a fallen tree, its trunk wider than he was tall. “You stupid, foolish girl,” he spat, his eyes darting erratically. “You’ve made your last mistake. You all have!” Looking up towards the yet unseen stars, Bailic clutched her book of First Truth to him with one hand. With the other he gestured wildly in the air. “Lost souls of Ese’ Nawoer!” he screamed into the red twilight, “I call you awake. I, Bailic Caldera, once Keeper of the Hold, now claimant of the book of First Truth, summon you from your unrest to serve me!”
The sun, a swollen ball of red, touched the rim of the earth and began to sink. There was a trembling in the air, and it grew close and oppressive. Although they stood alone under the open trees, it felt as if they were surrounded by untold thousands, and perhaps they were. Alissa became more afraid. She felt her skin tighten and her color gray.
Beside her, Lodesh shuddered. Her wings trembled as his face went somber and careworn. He looked no older, but he exuded a feeling of patient suffering far beyond his appearance. “Alissa,” he said, his green eyes intent. “Don’t forget us. I know you can remember. It will be by you that we will all be saved or damned.” There was not a whisper of his usual flirtations in his voice or eyes, and she felt a stab of fright. “Remember,” he said, and turned to Useless. “Talo-Toecan?” he said wearily, “Forgive me, I have no choice in this.” Appearing as an unwilling but capable leader of men, he slowly moved from them.
“Useless?” Alissa said, afraid. “What’s Lodesh doing? Bailic can’t command the city.”
Useless sighed and straightened resolutely. “Apparently he can. Whether Bailic knows it or not, it seems your book can be considered a token for him to act in your stead. Burn it to ash. I was afraid of this.”
“Alissa?” Strell mumbled, his eyes struggling to open.
“I’m here, Strell,” she cried, bending close. His hands rose and touched what was once her face. They dropped in astonishment, and his eyes flew open.
Useless hauled Strell stumbling to his feet. “Come on, Piper. It’s not over yet.”
Gulping, Alissa turned her attention to back to the grove. Useless’s final strike had wrapped Bailic in a field so strong it was visible as a faint black shimmer laced with streaks of gold. It was produced solely by her book and was absolutely impenetrable by all but the most subtle of forces. It wasn’t impervious—Bailic did have to breathe— but any show of strength or threat would only make it stronger. Seeing them standing silently before him, he began to laugh wildly. He knew they had lost.
“I’m sorry, Useless,” she whispered miserably. “I thought I could get it.”
“I know,” his thought came to calm and reassure her. “Bailic was aware you were after it. We will all heal—if we last the night. Together we’ll salvage what we can.” His eyes glinted regretfully in what was left of the light as the sun inexorably disappeared.
Bailic’s howl of victory broke over them. “You see!” he crowed as Lodesh stopped before him. “They’re mine! Sixteen thousand souls. You, Lodesh Stryska,” Bailic stabbed a thin finger at his unbowed figure, “The wise— the just—the foolish. I have need of a great force of people, your people, to serve my ends.”
Bowing his head in grief, Lodesh sighed. “What would you have us do?”
“I will lord over the plains,” Bailic cried, “the coast, and the mountains. You will serve as my minions, driving the plains and hills to set upon each other in a savage rage,” he raved.
Lodesh stirred. “You ask that we set the hills and plains against each other?”
“I don’t ask this,” Bailic shouted, his face twisting, “I demand it!”
Bowing under Bailic’s wrath, Lodesh cringed. Then he straightened. “You ask us to destroy what we vowed to protect,” he protested with a soft persistence. “We made this mistake once. We don’t wish to do so again.”
“You will!” Bailic howled, nearly delirious with his fervor.
“We are as you see us,” Lodesh said, “because we turned from those who deserved our compassion. It’s a mistake to ask us to bring this upon the people we once abandoned.”
Bailic stamped his foot in impatience. “I do!” he shrieked, his eyes growing frenzied.
The sun was nearly gone, and by its fading light, Alissa watched helplessly as Lodesh bowed his head and looked to the moss, soft and green under his feet. “We exist to serve,” he said softly, “until our penance for our failure is done. We have no choice.”
“Yes!
I know!” Bailic’s triumphant laugh rang out, filling their ears with the deranged sound of his pride. “I command you,” he shouted, “you and all your people, to rise and annihilate all who work against me.” He began to laugh maniacally, pointing a shaky finger at Strell, Useless, and Alissa. “Start with them,” he added breathlessly, nearly doubling over in hilarity.
“Wolves,” Strell whispered, and he and Alissa shrank back. Her pulse pounded.
Lodesh slowly raised his head, tilting it with a familiar sly, self-assured air. Alissa’s breath caught. “Ah,” he seemed to sigh in satisfaction. “There’s no ambiguity now. Thank you.”
Bailic’s laughter cut off sharply.
“We serve the one who wakes us,” the Warden said into the absolute silence.
“I—I . . .” Bailic stammered, suddenly uncertain. “I woke you.” In the hush, the sun slipped away. The ghastly red glow was replaced by a soothing gray. Bailic, Alissa knew, would be effectively blind. “I woke you!” he exploded.
“You did not,” Lodesh asserted mildly.
“No,” Bailic whispered.
“The one I serve woke us gently from our grievous slumber with a vision of peace and tranquillity. She wouldn’t ask this of us. You may carry her book as her token, but by your request to destroy her, it’s clear your claim to act in her stead is false.” He smiled, a tired but true smile. “I won’t destroy her. I can’t.”
“No,” Bailic cried, head slowly moving in denial. His voice was ragged, seeing his prize torn away even as he reached for it. He had damned himself by his own request.
The twilight seemed to be drawn to Lodesh, darkening him into an indistinct shadow. The faint scent of apples and pine disappeared, completely overwhelmed by the throat-choking stench of decay. “It’s Death,” the beast within Alissa wailed. For a moment Alissa struggled to maintain control of herself as Lodesh took up the mantle of skills he had fashioned while abiding with death for three centuries. Much to Alissa’s relief, Useless’s form swirled and shifted until two rakus and a lone piper watched.
“My lady would stop you from bringing death to the plains and hills,” Lodesh said calmly as he stepped closer to Bailic. “As she is unable, my people and I will take this small but unpleasant task upon ourselves.”
“No!” Bailic demanded.
“What you ask is an outrage against the dead as well as the living.” Drifting closer, Lodesh whispered his next words, but it was so still, even Strell could hear. “The dead,” the Warden murmured, “you can do no harm to, and so you will join them. You, Bailic Caldera, fallen Keeper of the Hold and wrongful claimant of the book of First Truth, have lost.”
“No!” Bailic screamed as Lodesh stepped easily through Bailic’s barrier of ward and field. It denied strong, violent forces, but apparently Death wasn’t considered a threat, and so Death could enter with impunity. It could enter, and of course, leave.
38
As Lodesh joined Bailic behind the field, a great rushing of unseen motion swirled about them. She swung her head wildly, seeming to catch sight of something out of the corner of her eye, but upon turning, it would vanish in a blur of shadow. The smell of decay rose thicker, clogging her senses in a muzzy blanket of anguish. All around, the mutterings of a multitude of angry voices built to a great unrest. Frightened, she backed up until Useless’s comforting bulk stopped her.
The souls of Ese’ Nawoer were decidedly awake. They surged and eddied about Bailic in a half-sensed maelstrom of frustration and rage. The torment Bailic wanted them to bring to the plains and hills would be so horrific, the single act of destroying him would wipe the guilt from the lost souls of Ese’ Nawoer. The way to avenge themselves had been made clear by their Warden.
“By the Maker of us all,” whispered Strell in horror as Bailic’s form grew indistinct.
“No-o-o!” Bailic screamed in what had to be utter terror as he sought escape. The high-pitched sound cut off with a terrible suddenness, and Alissa hid her face against Useless, unable to watch. His wings opened to shield them, but she could still hear the horrific sound of sixteen thousand beings rending Bailic’s soul. The noise mounted and clamored, filling the glade with memories of regret and misery. Their aching need for this release, to assuage their guilt in a tangible and indisputable way, surged through her unchecked. This was what they had been waiting almost four hundred years for. They would not be deterred.
As the great wind of mental force buffeted them, Useless stood as firm as the mountain itself, keeping them intact, protecting them from the worst of the terror. Still the tumult soared and multiplied. Bailic couldn’t possibly exist any longer, but the good people of Ese’ Nawoer, too far in their destructive release, didn’t know it. They were out of control.
“Now, Alissa,” Useless demanded tightly in her thoughts. “Set them free.”
Turning a tearstained face up to his old, craggy one, she half sobbed, “How?”
“The glade,” he snapped. “Lodesh said you must remember. Make it as you saw in your vision that awakened them. Before it’s too late! They have mislaid themselves and need to be reminded of their home.”
“Home,” she sobbed. Her home was so far from her now. She knew how they felt, lost and alone with nothing to claim as familiar.
“I can’t do it. You must,” Useless demanded. “Now! Or they will spread their madness, and Bailic will have his victory even from his grave.”
“I—I’ll try.” Roughly catching her tears, she focused her attention from the tremendous outpouring of dark emotions hammering upon her. “It begins with a flower,” she said grievously, and she recalled the pure perfection of her mirth blossom. Taking a ragged breath, she imagined she could smell the spicy fragrance of apples and pine under the stench of chaos. Her tension eased as she exhaled, and the swirling bombardment of hate, although it grew no less, seemed to pause and take notice. “The sky,” she said woefully, “would be clear and star-filled,” and so, in her imagination, it was. With a final hiccup, she immersed herself completely in her illusion, closing her eyes. Around her, she felt Ese’ Nawoer falter and slow.
“A soft, warm breeze from the west,” Alissa whispered, “slips through the dark branches, no longer empty of leaf or bud, but shimmering with a light paler than the moon. It takes the fear and heartache away as easily as it bears the scent of the flowering trees.” As she spoke, she felt the wind come from her thoughts to glide like a gray, mist-covered stream about them. Easily now, Ese’ Nawoer remembered, and at long last, began to forget.
“Gentle voices,” she murmured, and the tension melted.
“Soft music,” she breathed, and from somewhere in the distance of time, she could hear the pipes and drums.
“And the full moon,” she said with a sigh, “rises above the distant mountains as the petals drift down, seeming to be peace and happiness made real.”
Content and warm, she opened her eyes and gasped, staring in amazement. The full moon had risen just as in her dream, spilling between the trees in a silken mist to outline their black branches in a faint glow. But the trees were no longer bare. They were covered in a layer of white. The trees were in bloom! It was her imaginings come to life—with one exception. The space under the trees was filled with more than the moon’s glow. Uncountable figures were within it, helping to light the night with their own incandescence. They danced, or played music, or rested on the moss. Oblivious to anything else, they enacted a long-ago evening of tranquillity and contentment. Slowly, they began to fade, and the clearing grew dark.
Finally, there was only the lone figure of a young woman. She held a small basket in one hand, a blanket in the other. Casting anxiously about, she suddenly knelt and dropped her bundles. Smiling, she flung her arms wide to embrace a small boy who sprang from behind a tree. He was so young as to still be unsteady as he rushed to her, and the sound of his giggles danced away to play hide-and-seek among the drifting flowers.
She rose with him in her arms. The child pointed urgently to
the ground, his feet thumping rhythmically against her. With a silent laugh, the woman bent gracefully to retrieve her basket. She soundly kissed his forehead and turned away. Slowly they moved through the fragrant, white rain. The child looking over her shoulder smiled at Alissa and waved good-bye, his chubby fingers shyly opening and closing. And then, without fanfare or notice, they were gone; the city of Ese’ Nawoer was empty.
For a moment they remained still, reluctant to break the spell of contentment hanging heavy in the air. It was Strell who moved first, going to where Bailic had last stood. He stared down for a moment, then reached for Alissa’s quiescent book. Blowing a petal from it, he whispered, “What happened?”
Useless shifted in a swirl of gray to his human shape. “The people of Ese’ Nawoer took him in sixteen thousand pieces,” he said softly. “Bailic’s soul is rent so thoroughly, it will never coalesce again.”
A heavy sigh broke the stillness, and Alissa swiveled her head to see Lodesh sitting at the base of a mirth tree. His long legs were outstretched; he had a very satisfied air about him.
“Lodesh!” Strell exclaimed. Setting the book down beside her, he strode across the short distance to grip the man’s arm and pull him to his feet.
The Warden wearily made his way through the swirling flowers to stand before her. “My trees . . .” He gestured. “They bloom again. Thank you. It has been long since they remembered how to do so.” He breathed deeply of their scent, and his eyes closed in a long blink. When they opened, he was almost his old self, and her last knot of worry began to ease.
Useless gaped at him. “You remain?” he blurted. “Was that not enough?”
Lodesh smiled softly. “Aye,” he nodded, “in a manner of speaking. Bailic would have caused more misery than we inflicted with our walls and refusals to help. Preventing him was enough to exonerate all of my people, or singly I. My people are innocents compared to me. They were my walls. They were my decisions.” With a short, rueful chuckle, he shrugged. “The choice was easy. I, old friend, will never rest. My guilt is forever.”
