“Tirana is different. The Kabduh believe in the god of war, Odin.”
“Frescana is different again. The Amazonian warrior women believe in the serpent. It’s a sacred animal to them—you may have noticed Fey’s knife? The other people of Frescana I know little about. They are people that rarely leave their country and are ashamed of the Amazonian warriors that share their country. The Amazonians are thought to be barbarians. It was not until King Altor of Lapis Matyr changed the law that they were allowed into other countries. The prejudice still lives though.”
“The history of religion on Earth is just ... impossible to explain. You’d need about a hundred degrees in order to know what you’re talking about,” Jane mused.
“Degrees?”
Jane smiled. “Pretty much something you pay for in order to prove how smart you are. My mum can’t stand the thought that I might not get one.”
Fern frowned. “To who is it that she wants you to prove your intelligence?”
Jane shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“What do you wish to do instead?”
She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. You sound like her now—I’m only seventeen—why should I already have my whole life mapped out before me?”
Fern held up his hands. “I was just curious.”
Jane sighed. “The point is just that there are so many different religions, and they change and evolve all the time, so you need to study them properly to understand them at all.”
“That is strange. I’ve never heard of anyone changing the gods they believe in. The gods are immutable.”
“You don’t believe in The Great One anymore. Besides, how do you know they are immutable? You believe in them yes, but you can’t know if they’re really there.”
Fern looked puzzled. “Of course we can. They often involve themselves in the lives of mortals and have been known to take mortal lovers over the years. Besides, we do still believe in The Great One. It’s just that he was destroyed.”
Jane was sceptical. She had not actually believed in the gods, had thought them to be just like the ones in her world—products only of religious belief.
Fern saw the look of doubt still on her face. “I find your scepticism very amusing, Jane. Why do you think we’ve been trying so hard to get this book, if not to contact the gods with it? What about your dream? What about Elixia and her confession of visiting our star? Do you believe none of these things? What did you think was going to happen when we tried to use the book?”
Jane stared at him and couldn’t work out what to say. “Well, what do you believe in?” she asked him in order to change the subject.
He grinned and waved his hand through the air. A dismissive gesture. “Ah ... it doesn’t matter what I believe in.”
“You never like to talk about yourself.”
“Of course I do,” he replied shortly.
Jane sighed. “Fern, something you said before ... why did The Great One split apart?”
Fern frowned and Jane didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, “Jane, we are not meant to speak of it. But I will tell you.
“A long time ago, thousands of years, there was a battle, a great battle between the one god and a creature whose name we do not speak. He has many false names but we have come to simply call him the Scourge.
“He came from nowhere and attacked The Great One, and so mighty was his force that he succeeded. He had created an army of killers that could not be beaten. They used to be men, but the Scourge had tortured them with cruel magic, deforming them into unnatural beings.
“We call them the El~ariah—you have met Kha~dim, their leader. They are the best warriors that have ever existed, and the Scourge had complete control of them.
“So the El~ariah fought The Great One and his army of mortal men, and won. But before the Scourge could finish the war properly, before he could decimate Paragor, there came a saviour, a protector of mankind. Her name was Amara, and she was called the child of light. She stopped the one god from being totally destroyed, so that instead he was split into many gods. Then Amara turned the El~ariah against their creator and bound them to the kings of the three cities of Paragor—the Kings of Light. It is the El~ariah’s curse that they must obey only these kings, or take their own lives. Then they helped to banish their creator, the Scourge, from Paragor so that he was no more.” Fern paused and frowned.
“A great sorrow occurred then,” he went on with a sigh. “After the war was over and Paragor began to salvage the remnants of its broken world, the order was given that any record, anything that spoke of The Great Battle was to be destroyed. This is how the seven works of passion were lost. Somehow there is still one left though, and we saw it in the temple.”
“Oh Fern,” Jane sighed. “What happened to Amara?”
“She dived, distressed and sorrowful, from the mountain in Cynis Witron to her death.”
“But why?”
Fern shrugged. “Most believe she created the seven works, and when they were destroyed, she was heartbroken. I don’t think that could be the only reason. The cliffs are named after her. A bright light went out the day she died. It is a sorrow that Paragor has never forgotten. She was our saviour, our hope. It is said by some that Amara will be reborn again when the Scourge comes once more. Many think this is false hope. Most pray that if this is the case, they will not be alive to see the day.”
“Why do they think he will come once more?”
Fern shrugged. “They just fear the worst.”
Jane listened and felt a sense of recognition.
“She had a beautiful name,” Jane mused. “Amara.”
“You have a curious name,” he said thoughtfully.
“Why?” she asked. “In my world it’s really boring.”
“It means ‘god’s victorious smile’. I just thought it was curious,” he replied with a flash of his eyes.
“‘God’s victorious smile’,” Jane repeated. “How do you know, if it’s not a common name?”
“There are ways of working it out—the way it sounds on the tongue. Yours is like the sound of a ringing bell,” he smiled. “I like it. I like it’s meaning.”
She smiled too. “It isn’t very interesting.”
“In Paragor, a name is your very soul. It is who you are, for what else could be? A name is a powerful thing. It can decide your fate, and that of those around you.”
Jane frowned. “Where I’m from, it’s what you do that defines you, not what you’re called.”
“There is a truth in that, but Jane, without names, our actions aren’t recognised,” Fern said and she shrugged.
“What does your name mean?” she asked.
“It means Fern-like,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t know how many times I’ve cursed my mother for giving me such a name. I will never amount to anything—my name will not be remembered. It has been the wish of my life to have my name remembered by men after my children are dead, but it has also been the knowledge of my life that it will not be so.”
Fern changed the subject before Jane could say a word. “Your friends also have particularly interesting names also. Luca means ‘light’. Anna means ‘full of grace’. And Harry is army commander. Hmm. That one is certainly specific. But they are all powerful names.”
There was a silence as they thought about it for a moment, then, “The mosaic was definitely of The Great Battle?” she asked.
“There is no doubt. It was by the same artist as the six works of passion. After The Great Battle, six artworks were made, and they were spread over Paragor. We don’t know if Amara actually created them—some believe that there was not enough time between the battle and her death, but there was a symbol on each of them, which is also on the mosaic. I think we are the first to know that there are actually seven, instead of six.”
“But how do you know about the works of passion if you aren’t allowed to talk about them?” she asked. “And about the war at all, for that matter?”
>
He shrugged. “The Elves do not often follow the other laws of Paragor. My mother is the only one who lived through the battle, and the only woman to have seen all six of the works of passion. She has been able to describe them to the Elves. Certainly the humans do not know so much, but the story has been told in secret ever since.”
Jane peered at Fern’s face. Something had just occurred to her. “How old are you?”
“I am twenty years old,” he replied and Jane smiled in relief.
“Thank God—I don’t know if I could deal with you being hundreds of years old or something.”
“But I am half-Elf, and so I am immortal. By that I mean I will not die of old age or sickness. Only if I’m killed.” He seemed to know what it would do to her—she could hear it in his tone. Jane turned away to the small circular window of the ship. The thought had not even occurred to her before now. How could she have overlooked it?
“You will live long past my death, and I will be forgotten,” she said quietly. Hearts, she realised, are too fragile.
“I have thought about this, Jane, every day since I met you, and I have come to realise something. When you die, sweetheart, I shall die with you.”
“Fern, no! You cannot,” she said, meaning it more than she had ever meant anything, but he only smiled and shrugged. “How could you think I would want to hear something like that? Now I will think of nothing else, and the guilt—” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That last thing I want is to make you feel bad. It’s just that ... I’m too far gone, fallen too hard for you.”
“Oh, Fern,” she said, closing her eyes. Without speaking, she stood and checked his wrists and his side wound, then changed the bandages carefully. Her fingers brushed his pulse and she trembled. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry you,” he murmured. His hand slipped down to her wrist and encircled it gently. He pulled on it slightly, drawing her a little bit closer to where he lay. She drew back, but allowed him to keep hold of her hand.
He pulled her forward again and this time she let him and sat down on the bed next to him. He sat up a bit so that he was closer to her and reached over to push her hair behind her ear. She turned to look at him.
“Why can’t it be easier?” she asked softly.
He shrugged and smiled gently. “Then it wouldn’t be as much fun,” he murmured and she gave a breathless laugh.
“Cheer up, lady,” he said, leaning up to kiss her on the forehead. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“I’ll get old, and wrinkled, and tired, and I’ll change, while you’ll stay young and beautiful,” she sighed.
“I’ve never been beautiful.”
To which she burst out laughing. “Get real!”
“Jane,” he smiled. “Just don’t think about it.”
She spoke reluctantly. “I’d better see if the others need some help.”
He nodded. She stood up and he let go of her wrist. She walked to the door.
“It’s really okay, Jane,” Fern said reassuringly.
But she just made her way down to the galleys.
Chapter 30
Anna saw Locktar again. The beast haunted her dreams. When she had peered into the basin of water for a third time, a black winged creature stared back with red eyes. Locktar became all she could think of. Though she was terrified, part of her was growing used to the wival.
Anna reeled back from the basin. She must have lost consciousness for a moment, because she opened her eyes to realise that she was being carried.
Tomasso put her down on a bed and she felt her vision slowly return and the nausea subside a little. She sat up and tried to stand.
“You must rest,” Tomasso said.
Anna tried to ignore him but ended up sinking back onto the bed.
“I’ll just catch my breath and be on my way,” she muttered, looking around and realising that she must be in his chamber.
“How long have you been unwell?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. I’m sure it will pass by the time we have to sail.”
He peered at her, his expression guarded. “If you say so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “You’re clearly lying.”
She glared at him a moment, then stared down at her hands. “Fine. Whatever. It’s not a big deal.”
“Are you ... Is it ... killing you?” It was the first time she’d ever heard even the slightest of intonations in his voice to suggest emotion of some kind.
She nodded.
“How long do they predict?”
“A year ago they said I had a few months. So who the hell knows.”
He leant against the wooden chest of drawers and folded his arms across his chest. “Well.”
“Well what?” she snapped. “Are you going to be even stranger around me now you know I’m dying?”
Tomasso didn’t reply, he just looked at her. He was so weird! Why was everything so damn intense with him? He furrowed his brow dramatically. Anna sighed and looked away. She wished she wasn’t in his room, and wondered what Vezzet would think about this.
Her head was hurting. If not for that, she would be on her feet and out the door.
“You know,” she murmured distractedly, not even sure why she was speaking, “The worst thing about any of it is the fact that I’m here. What if I die here, and my mum never sees me again? If I’m just gone, disappear into thin air, and I never even said goodbye...” Anna felt a sudden, hot prickling behind her eyes. “And what if I never see her again? Or any of them? My dad, my sister, all my other friends—there are so many people we all left behind. We didn’t even think about what we were doing.”
Tomasso looked down at the ground and shrugged. Anna’s hands fidgeted in her lap and she ignored the steady throbbing of her head.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I got a bit carried away. I think I’m fine now. Thanks for helping me.”
“Are you scared of being forgotten?” he asked suddenly.
She looked over at him. “I guess. But you know, if I had the choice, I’d probably rather they all forgot me now.”
“No one’s that selfless.”
She thought about that for a while, leaning back on the bed. “Probably not,” she agreed. “I’m sure I’ll be a blubbering mess when it happens, and won’t be able to bear them leaving my side.” She threw him a careless smile. He did not return it.
“Bye,” she muttered and closed the door behind her.
As the days passed, Anna spent much of her time learning to handle a weapon, and the basics of swordplay. A man called Rome, an expert swordsman, had agreed to show the Bright Ones as much as possible in the short time they had left.
On the day of the tournament, the same day the travellers returned, Vezzet burst into Anna’s room. She was in the middle of lacing up her riding boots, having agreed to meet Elixia at the stables.
He paced around the room, groaning and rubbing his face.
“It’s Tomasso ... how can I say this?”
“Say what?”
“A traitor! I saw him with a letter—he carried it himself. And I looked at it and it said things to Leostrial and I saw that he had written it and he gave it to him—”
“Vezzet stop!” she ordered him, trying to make sense of his raving words. “Slow down and tell me properly.”
“I found a letter in Tomasso’s cloak pocket. It had no address on it, and I know I shouldn’t have, but I looked at it. It wasn’t sealed, so I opened it—he means to betray us to Leostrial and kill Accolon. He’s a traitor.”
Anna sat heavily down on the bed. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” he hissed.
“Okay, okay. Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I just saw him leave to deliver the letter—he could be anywhere!” Vezzet said, running a hand through his hair.
Anna turned to leave. “I have to go, Vezzet. But I won’t be gone long, and when I get back we can talk to Accolon together and tell him what you know.”
“What? Where are you going?” he asked.
“I promised Elixia I’d go for a ride with her.”
“Surely this is more important?”
“Not before the king is even awake it isn’t. When I get back,” she said firmly. Then she walked past him and out the door, pausing only briefly to touch him on the shoulder.
***
Anna apologised to Elixia and they rode out the gates not long after. Anna’s riding had improved, but she was nowhere near as good as the queen, who had been riding every day of her life.
They came to a shadowy glade in a clearing and slowed the horses to a walk.
“You seem distracted. Is everything all right?” Elixia asked.
“I’m sorry, Elixia. I must be slowing you down. Please go on without me,” she said breathlessly.
“I could not leave you to fend for yourself, could I?”
“Probably best not to,” Anna agreed.
“Although we should probably turn back. I get in enough trouble from Columba for riding, let alone on the day of the tournament.”
“You don’t like Columba?” Anna asked, turning her horse. She remembered well the bad feeling she got every time Columba entered a room.
Elixia looked at her sharply. “You don’t like her?”
“I don’t know. Forgive me for saying so, but she gives me the creeps. Every time she comes near me...” Anna paused and shook her head, trying to think back. “After Satine’s burning, I could never put my finger on it, but I always felt there was something wrong with the way she acted—I always felt like I was missing something.”
Elixia looked at her a moment. “Can I trust you, Anna?”
“Of course.”
“Columba is a traitor. She plans to kill Accolon today at the tournament.”
“How do you know?”
“I overheard her say so.”
“Okay ... So how are we going to get proof?” Anna asked. This confirmed exactly what she had been thinking all along. But how did it fit in with Tomasso being a traitor? Anna sighed in relief as she realised what must have happened. Vezzet had somehow confused the traitor to be Tomasso when it was really Columba.
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