by C S Vass
Fiona finally regained enough energy to climb to her feet, but almost immediately collapsed again. Fiercewind caught her and they awkwardly stumbled for a moment.
“My thanks, Headmaster,” Hightower said. The old man looked tired well beyond his years, which were already great.
“I’ve never known my mentor to resort to cheap tricks and deceit,” Rodrick said, as he rose.
“Mentor?” Fiona asked, unheard.
“Don’t presume to lecture me on the ways of honorable battle, Rodrick turncoat,” Hightower said.
“My loyalty has always been to Haygarden, not the Duke,” Rodrick responded.
“I need no lessons on loyalty from you.” Hightower raised his blade and aimed it straight for Rodrick’s head. Fiona felt dizzy and sick. How could it have come to this?
“Let us end this, then!” Rodrick said, and he unleashed another furious round of attacks. He was slower now, but so was Hightower. The blows were proving to be absolutely punishing. Twice Hightower was driven to his knees, but always remained fighting and managed to get back up.
“RODRICK!” Fiercewind screamed, as she flung herself into the battle, drawing a long knife from her waist.
Rodrick spun on his heels, and with a heavy grunt thrust his blade straight through her heart.
Fiercewind looked at the blade with surprise and said, “Oh!”
She was dead before she hit the ground.
Fiona was screaming, though she wasn’t truly there. She seemed to be a ghost in the room, watching herself clutching Fiercewind’s body. Hightower was saying something, and Martin had somewhat stirred but still hadn’t gotten up. She was vaguely aware of Hightower’s sword being slapped out of his hands and clanging against the ground. None of it truly registered.
Others entered the room. Men she didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Her hands were sticky with blood. How had they gotten that way? Fiona could not have said. She was in a realm of nightmares and terror, half-conscious, only aware of the terrible emotions that raged through her consciousness like a storm.
Later she would remember rough hands binding her, forcing her to move. She blacked out as soon as they left the room, and when she came to she was somewhere else. She did not know where. Someone was forcing something hot and sweet down her throat. It burned, but she hardly felt it. She was still screaming…at least she thought she was. Then it was silent. Had she stopped shouting, or simply stopped being able to hear herself?
All was black.
Chapter Twenty
Fiona woke up battered and bruised, with an aching heart. There was a featherbed underneath her, but it did little to soften the the wounds that scarred her soul. How could it all have come to this? It wasn’t supposed to be this way. The twins were supposed to have saved them. They were supposed to have helped.
Only they didn’t. Or couldn’t. What did it matter? She had been betrayed again. Was there anybody in the world she could trust? After Rodrick’s deceptions, she knew that the answer was no. Everyone had abandoned or used her, and she had nothing to do now but accept whatever fate had in store for her.
She opened her eyes and found that she was in an empty classroom that had been converted to something akin to a bedroom. Rows of desks had been pushed together in the opposite side off the room. A few low-burning candles surrounded her, glowing like stars in the night against the backdrop of clear windows that revealed a black sky.
It felt perverse in a way that she was in Clearwater at the same time as Fiercewind’s corpse. The Headmaster had fought to the last to defend her school and had been rewarded with cold steel through her heart. It wasn’t right.
“We’ve certainly made a mess of things.”
The voice of an old man surprised her, but when she turned she saw Shifter standing at the side of her bed. How was it that she failed to notice the secret-keeper?
“It’s over,” she mumbled. “We fought and lost. There’s nothing left to do. Do you know what the Vaentysh Boys plan on now?”
“Nothing that will make you happy, that’s for sure,” Shifter responded.
Fiona realized then that something was wrong. “How are you here? Did you sneak in? You should hide, they’ll find you.”
“The Vaentysh Boys know that I’m roaming about,” Shifter said.
Fiona began to have a terrible suspicion, but her heart was too wounded to feel any more pain. “Not you too. Are you working with them as well?”
“Me?” Shifter asked, innocently. “No Fiona, I have no love of the Vaentysh Boys. But they won’t try to impede me. They know that I’m, well, part of the deal you might say.”
“Part of the deal? What are you talking about? If you haven’t noticed they’re not exactly shy about removing heads. You should be careful.”
“They’d find my head more than a little difficult to remove, and they know it.”
Fiona looked at the secret-keeper, and tried to gaze into the depths of the hood. A strange feeling was growing inside of her. As always, the face underneath was completely covered in shadow.
“What are you?” she asked.
“In the first tongue we were called the Na-re-mo-tiri. Then, much later, the Karo-tiri-renshi. But you would know me simply as a godling.”
Fiona might have found that fascinating a day ago. Now it just made her mad.
“If you’re a godling then why didn’t you do more to help?” she asked. “If you’re immortal you could have done—”
“Could have done what?” Shifter asked. The question seemed surprisingly earnest.
“Could have done more,” Fiona said, stubbornly. “You could have helped.”
“Should I have single-handedly taken on the Vaentysh army? Fought them off with my bare knuckles?”
“You have magic. It could have made a difference.”
Shifter chuckled, but the secret-keeper alone was privy to what the joke was.
“Magic,” the godling said after a while. “Yes, I have magic Fiona. And yes, I am immortal, not truly alive so I can not truly be killed. That does not make me a supreme being. I can be harmed, imprisoned, and tortured. I’ve been through it before. You think you feel pain at the shifting of your city. I’ve seen entire civilizations rise and fall, collapse into dust under the weight of their own greed and arrogance. Do not try to lecture me from the place of hurt you’re in. Haygarden as you know it is nothing more than an echo, the resonance of an ancient history that moves through our lives like waves on a beach moving through sand.”
“That doesn’t help me now,” Fiona said. She was far too bitter to get into philosophy with a godling at the moment.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” Shifter sounded sad, and very tired. “Humans have an unfortunate inability to see the bigger picture, and it’s usually the source of your misery.”
“I guess when you’re a godling your heart goes hard. What value could a life have when you’ve seen whole empires come and go?”
“I value them as much as you!” Shifter shouted. “So arrogant! Why do I bother? They never learn! Never!” The godling sounded downright furious. Purple robes swept across the floor and Fiona was sure if she could see the face underneath the hood it would have been wrinkled with fury.
“I’m sorry,” Fiona said, softly. “I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t care. I’m just…hurt.”
“It’s okay,” Shifter said after a while. The anger had left the godling’s voice. “I understand. Really, I do. It didn’t always used to be this way.”
“What do you mean?” Fiona asked.
“Well, long ago things were different. Before the Age of Empire, when humans began to cultivate their armies and dominate the world, the Moonwood was much more than what it is now. The forest grew everywhere, and its magic infested not just the trees, but the dirt, the air, everything.”
“You mean, the whole world was Moonwood?” Fiona found that hard to believe.
“Long ago, yes,” Shifter confirmed. “With the rise of empire human
s began to realize that magic could be harvested, the same way they harvested crops. They began to parse up the magic of the world, to take from it more than they gave back. That’s when the magic began to die out. For the first time, there were large pieces of land without a drop of magical energy in them.
“The Age of Empire is a long era, containing many others within it like the trunk of a great tree with many branches. The oldest branch is the Age of Soil, where the magic humans cultivated went into working their crops and feeding their newly built cities. After that came the Age of Scholars, a good time for humanity. Magical energies were directed into the books and scrolls and the imagination of your people exploded, though not always for good.”
“What came next?” Fiona asked, hanging on every word. Shifter’s story was making her forget her own troubles, and she clung to it as desperately as if it were a log in the middle of a vast ocean.
“What was supposed to be the Age of Music, our current age.”
“Supposed to be?”
“Well, at the dawning of the Age of Music the Moonwood was shrunk to such a degree that the leadership in the Tellosian Empire had trouble determining how best to use it. You see, Tellos was racked with internal conflict and poverty was rampant. Rulers in Haygarden and Laquath each began to blame the other city so as to shift focus away from their own shortcomings.
“The conflict between the two great cities in Tellos echoed down through history, and played a crucial role in the War for Independence. But the point is, only two pieces of magical forest were left. One here, and one under Laquath. This is about the time that Duke Redfire rebelled. As you know Lord Questian already freed his city from the Tellosian Empire some time before that.”
“But the two were still connected underground, right?” Fiona asked.
Shifter nodded. “Maeyori was supposed to remain here, as a guardian and creator of magical instruments, while Maeyumi was supposed to stay in Laquath and do the same for magical weaponry smithed from silver.”
“A delicate balance of power,” Fiona said. “But one that would ensure that the two cities wouldn’t attack each other. If they did it would be mutually agreed upon suicide.”
“Indeed,” Shifter said. “You would have trouble devising a more poorly thought out plan, but by now I’ve learned that human idiocy is something I merely have to accept.”
“But for some reason Maeyumi didn’t hold up the bargain,” Fiona said. “Why not?”
“Isn’t that the question,” Shifter said. “The Duke and his council only recently realized that Laquath was missing their magical guardian.”
“But why would that upset them?” Fiona asked. None of it made any sense. “If Laquath’s guardian was gone wouldn’t that guarantee that Haygarden would remain the superior power.”
“Think, Fiona!” Shifter said. “First off, the Duke is old and battle weary. He wanted little more than to secure peace for his daughter’s reign before he died. It was also obvious that Laquath was oblivious to their renegade Moonwood guardian. If they knew, they would assuredly attack Haygarden immediately, while there was still hope that they maintained a weapons arsenal of comparable strength. Delaying after the fact would only give Haygarden time to obtain magical weaponry in addition to their own already considerable force of musical instruments.”
“I see.” Mazes inside of mazes. Would she ever find the way out? “Then the real question is, why did Maeyumi come to Haygarden’s Moonwood?”
“Yes,” Shifter said. “And I believe that we already have a piece of that puzzle.”
“Raesha,” Fiona said. “She must be orchestrating this. Manipulating the twins somehow for her own purpose to support the Vaentysh Boys. But why? Have they offered her something?”
“I suspect no greed for gold or power could have swayed Raesha,” Shifter said.
“How could you know that?” Fiona asked.
Fiona could not see into Shifter’s face, but the godling was silent for a long moment. Then the secret-keeper said, “She’s my sister.”
“What?” Fiona shouted.
“Half-sister, to be clear,” Shifter went on. “A rather rare case. Normally godlings and humans cannot mix, but well, there’s always exceptions to these sorts of things.”
Fiona’s head was spinning. “But, if she’s your sister—”
“It doesn’t matter, Fiona. I think you of all people can appreciate that we’re not defined by our siblings.”
The words stung her, but their truth still rang out clearly.
“What was she offered then?” Fiona asked
“Probably the chance to learn spellcraft uninhibited from the twins. In the end it doesn’t matter.”
“I feel like there’s no hope left,” Fiona said. “What can we do?”
“Only what we will,” Shifter said. “I have decided, my time as the guardian of Haygarden has come to an end. I can no longer offer my loyalty to this place, though it may be one of the last homes of magic in all of Tellos. The Moonwood has been abused for far too long, that I see clearly. Fiona, your brother has committed great sins. But I still see a hope for him. He will come to you soon. Distract him as long as possible. I will do what I can in the time that we have left. Then we will see how things will play out.”
“Play out? What do you mean? Hey, wait!” Fiona called to the secret-keeper, but Shifter was already dissolving into the wall just as she heard the doorknob turn and the door swung open with a bang.
Rodrick swept into the room, hollow-eyed and pale as a ghost. Fiona thought that all of the emotions she was capable of feeling had been squeezed out of her, but upon seeing his face a great sadness swelled up in the cavity of her chest.
“Sister.” His voice was raw and dry.
“Is that the best you can think to do right now?” she asked with disdain. “Remind me that I have the misfortune of sharing blood with you?”
“You have been difficult since I’ve known you, Fiona,” Rodrick said. His voice was quiet. “For once in your damn life, just try and understand. This was the best thing for our family, for our city.”
“Get out!” she rasped. She wanted to be strong and stand and make him leave, but she was so weak she couldn’t even sit up. Her throat clenched as she felt tears forming in her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.
“I did my duty to Haygarden,” Rodrick said. “The city was ours and Fiercewind fought anyway. It was her choice!”
“You shoved your sword through the Headmaster of my school, through a loyal servant of Haygarden,” Fiona said. “There’s not a pit in hell deep enough for you to be thrown in.”
Rodrick let out a growl like a wounded animal, and abruptly slammed his fist into the wall.
“At ease, Commander,” she mocked. “I know by now you’re used to attacking that which can’t fight back, but try to control yourself.”
“Shut up!” he bellowed. “Not from you, Fiona! I’ve been spit on by this whole fucking city, from the peasants outside the walls to the Duke himself. Not from you!”
He was panting, and his eyes were that of a wild creature. Fiona wondered if there was any soul left behind them.
“You think you’ve won,” she said. “You have no idea what you’ve done. What forces you’re up against.”
“Where are Shifter and Donyo?” Rodrick asked.
She let out a weak laugh which turned into a fit of coughing. “Have you checked your ass? Maybe at least you’ll find your own head up there.”
He struck her hard across the face. She could already feel the bruise forming where the blow landed, but that was all she felt. “I told you, not from you,” Rodrick said. His voice was low and dangerous.
“Temper, temper,” she mocked.
“Where are the secret-keeper and the drunk hiding?” Rodrick pressed. “If I find them on my terms I can bring them to justice in chains. If I find them on their terms while they’re committing whatever treasons they have planned I’ll have to bring in their heads.”
�
�Has the mighty Commander of the Brightbows grown so powerful he’s learned how to kill a godling?”
Rodrick swore. “I see the little monster’s not above breaking oaths of silence made to the city.”
“Puts you in good company then,” Fiona said. “Better than the lunatics you’ve been hanging around with anyway.”
She didn’t know why she was pressing him so hard. No good could come of it. Deep down she wanted him to attack her, to sever whatever fragile familial bond still connected them, if only by a thread.
“You’ve destroyed your own future, Fiona,” Rodrick said. “We owe the Duke nothing. He’s given us nothing but misery and poverty.”
“Funny words for a man with such a large house.”
“And our parents house?” he shouted. “Do you remember that, Fiona? Or has your time in the Leaf District made you forget where your roots are.”
“You’re the one who’s forgotten,” she said. “But I expect you’ll be reminded soon.”
“Where are they?” he roared.
“Fuck you.”
The silence that followed was a mutual acknowledgement of the end of their relationship.
“I never should have saved you,” Rodrick said with pure hatred.
“Saved me,” she snorted. “What have you ever saved me from?”
“From the monsters who killed our parents.”
She surely misheard that. She absorbed the blow as if he had struck her again. Finally she managed to ask, “What?”
“You think that the died peacefully in their sleep?” Rodrick said. “They didn’t. They were murdered by—”
A powerful and complex chord blasted through every corner of the school.
“What’s that?” Rodrick asked, panic sneaking into his voice. He turned to Fiona. “What are they doing?”
“What do you mean they were murdered?” Fiona asked, her voice rising.
