The Tattered Lands

by Barbara Ann Wright

  She fought the urge to fidget and blushed again, elders knew why. “Just so you know I was thinking about freedom.”

  His next eye roll seemed a bit friendlier. “All right. So, thoughts of freedom and excitement in its many forms…”

  She glared.

  “…is all you need to relax and focus. Let’s try it a few more times until you can recall the feeling, wrap yourself in your magic, and shroud at a moment’s notice. The elders know you won’t be able to stop and think about climbing rocks or kissing poets when a bear is charging you.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he pointed at the ground. In a huff, she sat, and he waited until she’d calmed. This time, she thought of swimming in a nearby lagoon and diving down through the bright water. With each memory, her magic seemed to cover her more easily, and she began to recognize the feeling. She let it wrap around her and shroud her for several seconds at a time, not daring to move for the first few attempts. When she’d done it ten times, she moved her arm back and forth, keeping the shroud, letting the magic flow, but as soon as she looked to Faelyn in excitement, she lost her focus.

  He beamed at her anyway.

  After the last attempt, she pressed a hand to her belly, feeling a cramp as if she’d run too far too fast. Her lunch threatened to reappear.

  “That’s enough for today,” Faelyn said as he helped her up.

  “At last.” Lilani opened the small pack she’d brought and took a drink from her canteen.

  “Practice more tonight, but don’t exhaust yourself. You’ve already learned that the harder you reach for it, the more elusive it is, no matter how…happy the memory.”

  She turned to tell him off, but he’d shrouded, and she saw a shimmer in the air as he fled through the trees. At least he had the good sense to hide from her wrath. She picked up her pack and started home, rubbing her belly. It wasn’t fair to have the ache from running without actually getting to move anywhere, but the closer she came to the Court, the better she felt. The presence of the seelie and the syndrium under their home had suffused the place with power, and as it mingled with her own magic, she breathed easier.

  It was hard to believe that any human entering this forest would be plagued by the sense that they should turn back. Their skin would be crawling before they breached the edge of the trees and entered the valley below the Highpeak. If one managed to get to the actual Court, they’d be a gibbering mess. In theory.

  But if the humans knew how much syndrium the Highpeak contained, they’d have all died trying to reach it. She’d read that humans tore their own mountains down searching for the rare metal. They couldn’t simply feel it, couldn’t let its magic wash over them, so they had to search every stone. After using syndrium to build their pylons and keep the spread of the tattered lands outside their borders, the humans should have stopped questing for it, should have let the land be.

  Or that’s what the histories said. Lilani didn’t see why an entire race should be content when they could explore. And she didn’t think all humans could be so quick to tear the Highpeak to shreds.

  She reached the edge of the valley and paused to look upon the Court, the towers and minarets made from gleaming white stone. Every structure seemed fragile from a distance, like homes made from spider webs, but she could pick out the subtle ways they anchored to the mountain and one another. Some sat upon the mountain itself, surrounded by paths of volcanic rock, dangerous to anyone who didn’t know their secrets. The sense of hard and soft only added to the beauty, along with the shining domes of blue, black, or gold. With the underground river that surfaced at the Highpeak’s base, the seelie had everything they would ever need in their valley, their forest. It was a paradise fit for eternity.

  Or so she’d been told. Again and again. By everyone.

  With a sigh, Lilani descended. She waved to those who tended the small fields along the Court’s outer edge. She nodded to those who were coming back from getting water and those who were busy creating beautiful works of stone or metal in their workshops and forges. Everyone moved with a hazy slowness, as if they had all the time in the world. If they weren’t killed by some disease or accident, they had that time. Their natural magic protected them from the ravages of age, and the eldest seelie sometimes grew so slow and contemplative that they ceased to move altogether, living only through their magic, needing neither sleep nor food. Some vanished, shrouding naturally and staying that way. They sat along the river or up among the mountain stones, with only garlands marking where they were so no one ran into them. It made her sad to think of it, though few shared her sentiment.

  She couldn’t imagine sitting for eternity. By the elders, she needed to have a little fun soon or she’d go mad.

  Lilani headed for the great library at the center of the Court. Maybe one of her friends would seek her there, and if not, she could lose herself among the books. In the brightly lit interior, she stopped, inhaling the smell of wood polish and parchment. Shelves full of books hugged the gently curving walls, parting only for a large window at the library’s rear. More shelves followed the winding staircase up to the second and third stories, every available space taken by the knowledge of the seelie.

  When Lilani glanced at the large wooden table in the middle of the floor, she started. Her mother sat there, leaning over an oversized book, and Lilani knew what it was without looking: the birth and death records of their people. Empress Dyrana and her daughter might have shared a love of reading, but lately, Lilani’s mother always sought out the same book.

  Hair a shade bluer than Lilani’s own shifted over her mother’s shoulders; their eyes were the same bright violet with the same ring of gold around the iris: royal eyes, but she would never get the chance to lead, not with all seelie now living under the Court. There’d be no need; her mother would live forever, and there would never be a separate enclave. Lilani would never have to sort out anyone else’s problems, but her mother would order her around forever, too.

  Her mother tucked a strand of hair behind one pointed ear and sighed heavily. Lilani cleared her throat. When their eyes met, her mother smiled. “Lilani, how did it go?”

  “A success,” Lilani said with a wide smile. She hoped proof wouldn’t be demanded. As much as Lilani loved the library, she didn’t know if she’d feel free enough to tap her magic indoors.

  Well, maybe if she were upside down with a book in her hands.

  Lilani crossed the floor and glanced at the giant record book: the births and deaths of the seelie. The entries had slowed over the years. The very last birth name was hers, and she was nearing thirty, barely an adult to some seelie but fully grown nonetheless.

  If anyone well into their several-hundreds would ever acknowledge that fact.

  “You’re going to drive yourself crazy,” Lilani said, sliding the book away and shutting it.

  “There has to be a reason why there haven’t been any children in thirty years.” She put her head in her hands and didn’t seem an empress for the moment, never mind the gauzy purple gown shot with threads of gold and silver that moved like flower petals as she walked.

  Lilani shrugged, but she had her own thoughts about why the seelie weren’t reproducing. So many had died making their way to the Court, but still, they fit only…comfortably in their forest. There wasn’t room for many more.

  Still, her mother likely knew that. “Maybe there should be more celebrations,” Lilani said. “Drums and dancing, a bonfire, barrels of wine.” And soft sighs in the dark. Her magic fluttered just thinking of it.

  Her mother gave her a dry look. “Sex is not the problem. I’ve asked.”

  Lilani stared, jolted out of her memories. “You’ve asked?” She conjured up images of her mother sitting down to tea with various people and saying, “So, how often do you have intercourse?” Maybe living long enough cured one of embarrassment.

  At least that was something to look forward to.

  Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I should turn my att
ention to your friends and inquire there?”

  Lilani fought a wince. “No, that’s fine. We’re fine.” She pushed the book farther away. “Brooding over these names won’t help. Come on before you turn to stone.” She started out of the room, knowing her mother wouldn’t be able to resist that bait.

  “They are not stone,” her mother said as she followed. “The elders are simply communing with…”

  Lilani paid no attention, not bothering to hide a grin. Outside, the sun was setting, and people were carrying tables into the street, getting ready to dine together as the seelie did every night. Lilani took her mother’s hand. “Let’s sit together. Unless you’re going to mope all night. Then I’m leaving you on your own.”

  “Callous child. I should embarrass you in front of your friends just for that.” The tone was light, but before Lilani could pull her closer to the tables and lanterns, she stopped. “Lilani, wait.”

  When they were in shadow, her mother said, “The lack of births is not the only thing troubling me.” In the near dark, her eyes seemed to glow, the hints of gold picking up the light. “One of the humans’ pylons has gone out.”

  It took a moment for Lilani to know what that meant, even though she’d been thinking about the pylons not an hour before. But she didn’t see why it should cause such dread. Even if the tattered lands broke through the pylons, it couldn’t break through seelie magic. “And?”

  Her mother sighed and seemed ancient, the flickering light making her features as elderly as a drawing of an old human. Lilani gasped and stepped forward, but as the light struck at a different angle, her mother was as beautiful as ever.

  “It is the pylon closest to our border. The humans will be coming to investigate.”

  Lilani laughed, her worry dissipating. “They’ll never find their way in here, and if you’re dreading telling me that I have to stay out of the forest a few days, I don’t mind. Truly.” She winked, but her mother barely smiled.

  Instead, she looked out on the gathering of their people, on the laughing faces. “Come.” She pulled Lilani back into the darkness of the library. “I have much to show you before we can rest.”

  Fear threatened to rise in Lilani’s heart, but she followed her mother back into the shadows. What was worse, pining for adventure or having it in varieties she’d never imagined?

  Chapter Three

  Lilani had been reading for hours, and she still couldn’t digest everything she’d learned. For all her love of books, she’d barely made a dent in what the library had to offer. With her mother guiding her, she began to see how much she’d missed.

  She glossed over some events she knew: the spread of the tattered lands and a brief history of the human retreat. Her mother wanted her to focus on the pylons themselves. Lilani had never taken much interest in them. The ancient history of the seelie was so much more fascinating. And whenever seelie books mentioned humans, they were quick to remind the reader about how barbaric, petty, and small-minded humankind was. With their short lives and shorter memories, they were doomed to keep making the same mistakes.

  But with the pylons, it seemed they had learned something, at least enough to create new technology. The author of one history, a seelie scribe named Awith, didn’t have the same opinion of humans as the other books. She described daring human battles against the overwhelming denizens of the tattered lands, of noble humans refusing to leave comrades behind to face being torn apart. Awith didn’t shy away from human brutality, but she also stressed that when humans were united in a common cause, they were as perfect and inescapable as the seasons. She had fought by their side, helped with their evacuations. She had loved some of them.

  Lilani gasped at that. Awith had many human friends and lovers. She seemed fascinated by them, and she’d wanted her people to embrace humanity despite past misunderstandings.

  Of course, later scholars had made notations in the margins of Awith’s history and had added pages to her work. Some refuted her claims about the sequence of events and cited instances that were supposed to prove her wrong. Since Awith had no response within the pages, Lilani had to conclude she hadn’t survived her encounters with humans. Perhaps she’d believed that all of them were as noble as the ones she befriended, and in the end, they’d betrayed her.

  Lilani kept reading as her mother stayed silent. What was it she was supposed to learn from this? That she should try to help the humans with their pylon? That she shouldn’t? When Awith’s history came to the construction of the pylons, Lilani read closer.

  They were huge constructs made completely of syndrium. The way Awith described the plans for them, the humans wanted them to be nearly alive, not just delineating the border but actively guarding it. Awith suspected the humans had found some way to tap into the magic in syndrium, though they had no natural magic inside themselves.

  As she kept reading, Lilani’s mouth dropped open. Awith wrote about how she intended to work with the humans, to help the pylons shroud the human lands, but the details were rough and hazy, written hurriedly. More like a journal than a history, these pages were all about what Awith planned to do and not what she’d actually done.

  Lilani looked up. Her mother was straightening some books, but when Lilani caught her eye, she said, “Keep reading.”

  Lilani obeyed, turning the page. The handwriting changed, the notes of another seelie, along with a few passages in what Lilani recognized as one of the human languages. It said the seelie had received notice of Awith’s death, that she’d fallen while helping erect the pylons. The humans praised her bravery, saying she’d stayed with the pylons until the denizens of the tattered lands were upon them. She’d succeeded in her mission, giving her life so the humans might live.

  The human words radiated emotion: love and grief and gratitude. Lilani wondered if they were written by one of Awith’s lovers; the seelie who’d copied them into the book didn’t say. Lilani sighed, feeling a spark of their grief. Their words seemed so heartfelt she couldn’t help feeling an ounce of what Awith must have felt for them. Compared with a seelie hand, their letters seemed brutish, but the depth of their feeling screamed from the page. No seelie felt so deeply, not after a certain age. Maybe to bear such a long life, they had to sacrifice passion.

  A terrifying thought.

  “She helped them,” Lilani said. “And they loved her for it.”

  “But didn’t hesitate to sacrifice her.”

  Lilani glanced back down at the book. It read as if Awith had sacrificed herself.

  “If the pylons are failing,” her mother said, “the humans might seek our help again.” She walked around the table. “We could shroud from the tattered lands, but then we’d spend all our energy simply staying out of sight. It’s why the seelie fled south in the first place.”

  “But Awith helped build the pylons for the seelie and humanity,” Lilani said, caressing the page.

  Her mother cocked her head. “Many see the survival of the humans as a mere side effect of Awith’s deeds.”

  The words held no malice, but like the seelie who’d left annotations in this book, she seemed devoid of sympathy for the humans, no doubt thinking of conflicts and seelie deaths that were hundreds or thousands of years in the past.

  But Awith had been clear about her intentions, her feelings. “Will we help them?”

  “Some have suggested we construct our own pylons at the border while the humans succumb to their fate.”

  Lilani arched an eyebrow. “So, it’s their fate to be turned into monsters or torn apart?”

  A shrug, and Lilani’s belly went cold. She didn’t harbor a love for humans like Awith had, but she didn’t want them to go extinct. No one who’d written of Awith’s sacrifice with such blinding passion could be evil.

  She thought back to drawings she’d seen, to the seelie who’d found the beauty in humanity’s muscular forms. Many drawings were marred by a sense of violence, as if death was part of humanity’s very nature. Some said the influence of the tatter
ed lands simply brought out the core of the humans, twisting their bodies to match their souls.

  It couldn’t be.

  Lilani stood slowly. “I…think we should help.” She touched Awith’s book again, knowing she’d reread it often. “We can study the pylons, figure out what Awith did, and re-create it. And if we do it before more pylons give out, we shouldn’t lose any lives. Awith had to hurry. If we help the humans now, there won’t have to be a sacrifice.” She hoped.

  Her mother stared so long, Lilani feared she had become like one of the elders. “No.”

  Lilani waited for more, but her mother took the book and carried it away. “That’s it?” Lilani asked, following, her anger rising. “If you’re not even going to discuss it, why show this to me?”

  “I had hoped you would see Awith’s tale for what it is: evidence for what needs to be done.”

  “How could a tale of love and grief make me see that humans deserve to be abandoned?”

  “They take, Lilani. That is what this tale shows us. Some of them may have loved Awith, but they still took all she had, including her life.”

  Lilani shook her head, fighting disbelief. “From the way she wrote, she gave those freely.”

  “I’m sure they convinced her that it was all her idea.”

  “Mother—”

  Her mother whirled around, anger in her eyes at last. The tendrils of her hair lifted, buoyed by her power. “It is seduction, Lilani. Their youth, their energy, those are their lures. They draw our kind in, and then we are blind to their brutality. They offer with one hand, but the other, the hidden hand, is holding a club waiting to strike.” She took a deep breath, and her hair settled. She placed the book on a shelf. “I know of what I speak. My father ruled here for thousands of years, and I took charge of one of the enclaves. He befriended the humans, and eventually, they struck him down, jealous of our longevity.”