Grace of the Light

by Fergal F. Nally

  Drath!

  Shock flooded through Tuath. The demon was standing in full view behind his chair, eyes closed.

  Gods!

  Tuath recoiled, his heart pounding. Could the others see the demon? Or could he only see it? Drath’s face bore a strange look. The demon was leaning towards Bright Feather, its arms by its side, its long nailed fingers twitching animatedly.

  Bright Feather’s voice pierced the room. “In order for you to be free of this demon and its demands you must die at the hands of someone who loves you.”

  Her words hung in the air like poison. The atmosphere in the room changed, the temperature dropped. Tuath’s breath misted the air, frost gathered on his eyebrows and beard, cold penetrated his bones. The fire took on a green hue, a metallic taste filled his mouth.

  Magic.

  Drath’s eyes snapped open and locked with his. Tuath’s world froze, his heart and breathing slowed, he felt the demon’s hatred. Drath was held, unable to move, it was as if…

  A spell.

  The truth dawned on Tuath. Bright Feather was doing something, to him. Drath was powerless but still in control of his life. It was a standoff, he recognised it, he’d lived it many times ring fighting. Only one way to break any deadlock, someone had to die.

  Tuath heard a noise and tore his eyes away from Drath. He turned and saw Bright Feather, her eyes open and locked on the demon, a jewelled dagger in her hand. Movement on his left. Tuath watched as Ramin stood and went to Bright Feather to take the blade, her fingers curled around the hilt. He brought his eyes up to meet Ramin’s and saw the tears in her eyes. Joy rushed through him as he recognised her love for him, the realisation hit him with the force of a thousand suns.

  Ramin raised the dagger and unblinking, thrust it into his heart in one fluid motion, he felt the blade enter his chest piercing his heart. His eyes locked with Ramin’s, a union of love. His head spun as blood gushed down his chest pooling on the floor.

  Tuath’s heart stopped, death flooded his body. Drath’s form shimmered and faded, a look of disgust on his face, defeated, robbed of his reward. Cheated by death.

  Cheated by Bright Feather.

  Tuath slumped to the floor, his body limp. Bright Feather knelt beside him and placed her hand on his chest, she took the dagger’s hilt. Carefully she withdrew the blade, as she did the fire in the grate lost its green colour. She pulled the dagger free and placed it on the ground. She leaned over Tuath placing her hand on his wound, her nails glowing, growing, sharp and long.

  Ramin looked on, mesmerised. She knew she was in the presence of magic, she had seen the Simulacrum Lords perform feats that made her question her sanity. She watched as Bright Feather drove her nails into Tuath’s wound. His flesh was still warm, she only had a few minutes to repair the blade’s damage. His spirit would leave the body slower in the presence of love. She had seen the way Tuath and Ramin looked at each other. Life’s most important communication was not imprisoned by words.

  Her nails continued towards Tuath’s heart, penetrating muscle, cartilage and bone. She found the shredded heart, broken by steel and love. She felt the tear, caressed the bleeding flesh assessing, measuring. Too much would be too much, too little not enough.

  Sakrit na Isha, Kir Num, flesh and bone answer my call. Spirit follow my prayer, leave not the one that loves you. Sakrit na Isha, Kir Num.

  Ramin’s eyes narrowed. Kir Num was a Simulacrum god. What was an Imperial doing invoking a Simulacrum god? Ramin’s thoughts raced, maybe their cultures had more in common than they were led to believe. Bright Feather’s face contorted and she slumped across Tuath’s body. Ramin flinched but knew not to interfere, she waited. She would wait as long as it took.

  Five hours passed. Early morning filtered through the grimy windows. A bell rang calling the monks to prayer. What use had ever come of prayer? It was action that mattered. She had taken Tuath’s hand during the night kneeling beside him. When her legs went numb she lay down beside him staring at his face.

  Love was strange, some said it was wild magic that the gods had spilt onto the Erthe, springing from person to person. It led to ecstasy or madness, it triggered anger, jealousy and war. It was a mighty, unpredictable force but when it took you it was all consuming. She realised in the last two weeks she’d been stalked by love and seduced by this man who held her heart.

  Now she had destroyed his heart.

  She had seen the demon and knew what it was. There was no coming back from a pact with one of their kind. She had seen others driven mad by demons, life was not worth living in thrall to one of those creatures. Kinder to die, to be slain by one who loved you… a mercy kill. This she had done, she had gained everything and lost everything in a heartbeat.

  Bright Feather mumbled and sat up. Ramin’s eyes fluttered open, Tuath looked different. Her eyes focused, she felt his breath, warm on her cheek. She stared, not daring to believe, slowly she reached out to his chest placing her hand on his skin, the wound was gone, healed. She rested her palm on his breastbone and held her breath.

  It came, a thump, followed by another and another, a chain of life… for her. His breathing deepened, colour returned to his cheeks. Ramin stared in wonder, speechless.

  Bright Feather spoke. “Stay with him, he’ll need you now. When he comes round there’s food and a bed in the next room. I’ll leave you now, I’ve work to do. I’ll return later.” She stood and left the room, her back stooped, exhaustion written across her face.

  Ramin would stay with Tuath. She had all the time in the world, her soul felt like flying. They had a second chance. The gods favoured them after all, she offered up silent thanks to Kir Num. She would wait for Tuath to come round. She whispered his name repeatedly to help guide him back from the otherside.

  “The Erthe, Tuath, the Erthe waits for you, for us, Tuath. Come back, be with me, live with me, be mine.”

  Tuath’s eyelids fluttered then opened, Ramin’s face burst in on his consciousness, it was good. He felt broken, his chest hurt like hell. There was something different.

  He felt free.

  Ramin blinked. “That thing, the demon is gone. You are cleansed, we are together, that’s all that matters.”

  Tuath closed his eyes and clung to Ramin’s words. She put her arms around him, holding him.

  They lay like that for a long time.

  Complete.

  ~

  Bright Feather felt light headed, weakened from her efforts.

  It had taken a lot out of her to hold the demon. She could not allow Tuath to be compromised, Drath would have leeched his strength. Tuath and the girl, Ramin, still had a role to play. She was pleased the Simulacrum Lords wanted to meet, her plan was part realised. Her spies had told her of the king’s assassination. She would use her old friend, the Lord of Misrule, to access the court, there she would find Queen Lirana.

  Lirana was a strong woman, northern warrior stock. She would listen to reason, the alliance with the Simulacrum had to be forged. The southern cities Kea and Arta had already fallen to Morrigan.

  This would give her the leverage she needed with the queen.

  Bright Feather changed clothes putting on her purple cloak. Her gold laced arms caught the candle light, her eye makeup gave her an austere look. She brushed her hair tying it in braids with golden thread, her mind racing.

  Queen Lirana had known of the king’s weaknesses. She knew about his courtesans and his bastard children, she knew the throne’s dark side, she had no illusions. She had played the game herself and had risen to a position of power through marriage and politics. Until the council met and decided on succession, Lirana had absolute authority over the realm and the Imperial Army. It was not Bright Feather’s original plan, but things were turning out in a favourable way after all.

  Ready, Bright Feather pulled up her hood and went to the friary’s rear entrance. She could hear monks in the chapel, their plainsong coursing through the air. She opened the door and went out into the dawn light. The
day was young, the air fresh and cold on her skin. This day could save or destroy the empire.

  The empire’s bones will not break, not on my watch.

  It took her an hour to walk across the city, its streets were filling with life. She pulled her cloak tight around her, its magic allowing her to blend in with the crowds, no one paid her any attention. She arrived at the palace gates and approached the guards.

  “Halt, Lady. Who are you? State your business,” the nearest guard said.

  “Bright Feather, come to see the Lord of Misrule. I bring news of the festival for him. Do not delay me, the news is urgent.”

  “Everything is urgent at these gates my Lady. Show me your face, only highborns may use this gate.”

  Bright Feather pulled her hood down and allowed the guard to look into her eyes. This magic required the willingness of the victim to be entranced and so it was with the guards. They fell under her spell in a breath, within seconds she was being escorted up the concourse to the citadel.

  Twenty minutes later she was in the Lord of Misrule’s antechamber. The last time she had met him was at the king’s coronation. He’d been busy organising the festivities for months before the event. She remembered assisting him with the dancing lights.

  The antechamber door opened, there he stood, dressed in black, short hair, impressive beard and the key to the king’s quarters round his neck. He was pale, distracted, his eyes flicked over her and the rest of the room. Bright Feather waited for him to address her.

  “Why have you come? This is a bad time.” He said at last. His hands were clenched.

  “My Lord, I have news for the queen. It is of utmost importance, I need to speak with her immediately.”

  He stared at Bright Feather, suspicious. “Why do you ask for the queen, now, at this time?”

  “My Lord, what I have to say is for her ears only.”

  “Impossible, no one can see the queen today. She is… indisposed.”

  Bright Feather paused then played her ace. “I know the king is dead, my Lord.”

  Shock registered on his face. “How do you know? Nobody knows, it’s been kept quiet… there’d be panic, what with the fall of the southern cities and the armies of the dead marching on us.”

  “That’s why I need to speak with Queen Lirana. I have information about all of this, come now my Lord, time is short.”

  He looked into her eyes and fell under her spell. His mind bent to her will, he nodded.

  “Of course, follow me.”

  They walked along the wet cobbles, up the causeway to the citadel. Bright Feather was impatient, there was enough time, just. She needed to adjust her expectations, people needed time to digest information and decide. Sometimes reflex action and direct violence was the best answer, violence answered a lot of dilemmas. Violence was what they needed now, total war was what was needed, not caution, not composure, the time for those luxuries was long gone. People had to know they were fighting for their lives, their children.

  Their savagery had to be unleashed.

  Finally they arrived at the inner citadel gates.

  “Visitor for Queen Lirana,” the Lord of Misrule declared.

  “Aye, my Lord. Stand back, portcullis rising,” was the response from the narrow arrow slit to the right.

  “Archers, stand down,” the order echoed somewhere within.

  The Lord of Misrule nodded at Bright Feather to proceed. His job done, he turned and started walking back to the Imperial gate, he stopped half way and looked back, momentarily confused, he shook his head and then resumed the walk back to his quarters.

  Bright Feather continued to the Imperial Court. She had met Queen Lirana once, the day after her coronation, in the royal gardens, a brief five second formal encounter. She’d been introduced by the Lord of Misrule to Lirana who had congratulated her on the dancing lights. The queen had met hundreds of people that day but only a few had been introduced to her by the Lord of Misrule. Bright Feather hoped the queen would remember her.

  She forced herself on, this was her job, to protect the realm, she would do her duty. She arrived at the court chambers and was waved through by the guards, word had spread, she was in. She needed to find the royal clerk.

  “And you may be?” The impatient voice of the clerk greeted her from the shadows.

  “Bright Feather, highborn, vouched for by the Lord of Misrule, come to seek audience with Queen Lirana on a matter of utmost importance, on the security of the realm.” Bright Feather turned her influence on the court official.

  He acceded to her will, bowing. “Come, my Lady, this way. I’ll take you to the queen’s chambers. You’ll need to negotiate an audience with the lady in waiting.”

  They walked through the grand court halls, past the throne room, into the back chambers, up four flights of stairs to the queen’s quarters. Bright Feather felt the tension building in her chest, she was near the seat of power. This was her chance to ignite the touch paper.

  She blinked and found herself at the queen’s door. A guard stood outside.

  “Sorry, my Lady, all who enter need to be searched.” He knocked, a servant opened the door and on seeing Bright Feather nodded in understanding.

  Three women escorted Bright Feather to an antechamber where they stripped and searched her. Finding no weapons they allowed her to dress and escorted her to the queen’s inner rooms.

  “Her Majesty will be informed of your request for an audience. Wait here.”

  Bright Feather took a seat, the queen would come, she had to come.

  Forty minutes later the queen entered the room in a flourish. She wore formal court attire, her face was blank. She was in shock at the king’s murder, this was not going to be easy. Bright Feather rose and bowed, she waited to be spoken to.

  The queen stood in front of Bright Feather in silence. Finally she sat down nodding at Bright Feather.

  “Speak.”

  Bright Feather bowed and began her story covering everything the queen needed to know. She laced her words with magic, they entered the queen’s consciousness, carrying influence.

  Queen Lirana tilted her head. “No need to weave your words Bright Feather. I know these facts already, my spies have been feeding me information these last few weeks. I know of Morrigan and her army, I know of Ashtoreth and her plot, I have heard today our sister cities have fallen to Morrigan. Believe me, I want to stop them, I want to save our city and the realm. I want the king’s legacy to survive.” She paused. “Why are you here?”

  Bright Feather smiled, bowing again. “Majesty, indulge me.” She moved her arms, light trickled from her fingers, her hands became a blur, a web of light glimmered between her and the queen. She flicked her fingers using the light, an image appeared before her, bright and vividly real.

  Queen Lirana gasped and watched, entranced. This magic user was special, even the arch mage was not capable of such wonders. Lirana’s eyes narrowed as she focused on the image before her. She saw the Swift and Brightwater, their waters merging in the Shoan Rapids. She saw the Parly Fields and their meadows, rich with the blood of her ancestors and their enemies, rich with history and death.

  Lirana’s lips moved in silence, she found herself mouthing the sacred words of The Pact; the historic peace agreement between the Simulacrum and Imperium.

  Silne duche makrem sil’na, sil’nis, sil’navra. Fresch al’presche ete halna ri’a.

  The words that bound the fate of the two nations, the sacred words of trust, which if dishonoured, would bring devastation to those that broke the faith… the faith in the peace.

  Faith.

  Their people had lost sight of faith, now it was not the faith that kept the peace, it was fear. When this had happened she was not sure, it had grown slowly over years, decades, perhaps longer. It mattered not, there was no faith any more, only fear. Ashtoreth and Morrigan had timed their reincarnation perfectly, their emergence at this time with their army was guaranteed to succeed. She felt a trickle on her face and brou
ght her hand to her cheek and was surprised to feel tears, she still felt for her people and the land. She flinched, she had thought her emotions had died long ago, she was wrong. She pulled herself together, she had to follow her head, but there was still a little room for her heart.

  She wanted to believe in peace, she wanted to have faith again.

  The air crackled before them, the smell of sulphur tainted the room, the image cleared. Lirana watched as Bright Feather’s fingers slowed, the image responded. Lirana’s eyes widened as she saw a winged she demon appear from the sky. She recognised it from old pictures, it was Ashtoreth, half woman, half beast. Her beauty was undeniable, cascading hair, shimmering skin, alabaster white in the sunset. Spikes ran down her back, a long armoured tail snaked around her legs.

  Lirana watched the image as Ashtoreth hung suspended over the Parly Fields. Ashtoreth spun, becoming a blur then pierced the ground disappearing from view. The image stuttered and faded. Lirana found herself alone once more in the room with Bright Feather.

  Bright Feather was fatigued from her efforts. “So you see, my queen, Ashtoreth waits for us beneath the Parly fields. I have approached the Simulacrum. They are coming there to meet you, the new Imperial leader, in less than two days. The only way to defeat Ashtoreth is if we join forces with them. The Imperial army allied with Simulacrum magic is the only way to defeat her.”

  “This is the first I have heard of this plan. You have contacted the Simulacrum?”

  “Yes, my queen, I sent an emissary to the Simulacrum Lords, they’ve heard my request, they are on their way.”

  “You realise that this is treason of the highest order? The peace between the Imperium and the Simulacrum is conditional on us never meeting apart from sanctioned trade.”

  Bright Feather nodded holding her tongue, she let the queen continue.

  “These however are exceptional times, perilous times. I see merit in your plan, but Ashtoreth is lying in wait, ready to kill us all. This plan of yours will fail, she is too powerful for us to defeat before we have negotiated an agreement with the Simulacrum, there is too little time left. Ashtoreth has beaten us to it… unless you have a counter strategy…”