by AB Bradley
The woman nodded as they walked. “Blessed is the mother who toils in fields to feed another, for her soul will never hunger.”
Mara shook her head. “I drank the ebon orchid draught. I swear I did. Still, I was with child. I tried, the Six know I tried. It should have worked. Olessa told me it would. It didn’t, and then I was with a child—a son.”
“Blessed is the mother who overcomes impossible odds, for her every breath is a miracle for all the world to see.”
Mara glanced into the crowd. A line of silent sons stood above the rest. They each wore a mask with a different emotion and looked the same as any other in their order, but she knew those men. Somehow, she recognized them. One saved her from Kard and showed her a path into Upper Sollan. The rest fell with him in the Blooming Ring to save her from Brother Caspran and his flying dagger.
Their pale masks bowed in respect. Mara reached for them, but they swiftly retreated into the crowd. She turned away, continuing her unsteady pace toward the flames.
“I had my son just a sunset. I dreamt a bright future for him, but he never took a breath. I gave birth. I bled on the barge’s deck. I cried. I held his body in my arms. They feared him when they saw him. Then, they feared me. They thought my son and I cursed. I saw it in their eyes. It hurt more than any beating.”
Cassandra nodded. “Blessed is the mother who stands against injustice, for she will rise above eternity.”
“They told me that demons would eat my son’s soul.” She looked to her son’s body and swallowed her angry sob. “They said he would suffer if I did not take him to the Ever-Burning Flame before sunrise. They wrapped us both in burlap stained by ash. They would not help. They would not risk. I—I thought they loved me. I thought someone loved me. I thought if one of them did, they did not love enough. I was bitter at first, I think. But now, I understand their fear. I hope—think they loved me in the end.”
A man muscled out of the crowd and stood like an eager boy at the edge of the path. His blond hair was cut short and trimmed to perfection, and his round, blue eyes carried an innocence that melted hearts. The last time Mara saw him, a sailor’s dagger stuck in his throat. In the Mother’s temple, no scar marred his neck.
Mara faced the man with a smile of recognition. “Tolstes? I saw you float. Kard killed you. Did he not? Did I leave you?”
Olessa’s strong boy smiled. He took a deep bow and melted into the crowd.
Cassandra paused beside Mara and waited, hands clasped at her waist. “What happened next?”
“A man called Tolstes took me from my home, but he could never follow me into Sollan because he was murdered by a glimmer fiend. A silent son brought my boat ashore, and I ran through revelers. I found a boy with a missing a finger. He said he could help. He promised he would.”
“And did he?”
Mara gave up her search for Tolstes with a sigh and continued down the path. “I gave the boy my brass collar. He said he could buy us meals with it. I learned later, he stole it to feed himself. I wish I could see him. I wish I could hold him. I wish I could whisper in his ear everything would be okay. I was angry he lied, but I am glad he had a meal. I would give him a thousand brass collars if I could.”
“Blessed is the mother who freely gives, for the world will gift her an undying love.”
Mara looked into the crowd. A small boy darted into view and lingered on the path’s edge. He looked up at Mara and smiled, the little arrow of his nose wrinkling with his cracked-tooth grin.
She smiled and reached for him. He reached for her with a hand that sported all five fingers. His small arm couldn’t quite reach her, so he pulled away. Tag bowed and slipped into the crowd, disappearing within the robes of the faithful.
“And what happened next on your pilgrimage?” the priestess asked.
“A kindly warrior showed me the way.” Mara grinned despite her pain and weariness. “Most saw him as a beggar, but really he was a mighty warrior. He loved the Six. He served them well. He served his king well too, even though the king’s son tossed him aside. He was a good man. I wish more people saw that in him.”
“Blessed is the mother with vision, for she will see the good in every soul.”
A polished glimmer distracted Mara’s eye. She caught a man standing amongst the faithful. He towered above the others and brandished a breastplate polished as a fresh coin. Their eyes met.
“Galladus? You look so young and healthy!”
He flashed his perfect teeth and bowed, quickly fading into the throng. By then, Mara had almost reached the flame at the statue’s feet, and only a few remained on either side.
Two women filtered from the crowd and stood beside the fire. One she recognized as her madame looking young and vibrant and overflowing with joy. The other was Gia, unharmed and cleaned and polished like a bride who wore the garments of one of the Mother’s priestesses. A red flame marked her brow. Tears glimmered with Gia’s pride as joy spread her smile.
“They are all here,” Mara said. “Everyone is here.”
Sander gently squeezed her elbow. “I am glad to know you, Mara.”
She turned to him. “Why? I think I might be the unluckiest woman in Urum tonight.”
The priest of the Slippery Sinner smirked and backed away. The man stood still in the empty path, the great doors framing his body.
“Why aren’t you coming?” she asked.
He closed his eyes and bowed. “I am so sorry, my ashwalk pilgrim. I would have taken a hundred thousand blades had I known. You felt abandoned. You felt alone. Trust me when I swear to you, you never walked alone. You are loved more and by a greater number than any other on Urum.”
Nothing made any sense. She whirled around to face the flames. Olessa and Gia had disappeared. Only Cassandra stood before her, the Mother’s marble statue towering over the woman’s flowing silks.
“Who are you? Are you the Mother?” Mara asked.
“My name is Cassandra, Mara, and I am the High Priestess of the Mother’s temple, so no, I am not the Mother. I served the goddess since the earliest days of my memory. I worshipped her in my darkest and brightest hours. I prayed to her as others came and went. I brought her wisdom to Sollan with the High Priestess who came before me. I listened when a young acolyte named Laedon told the old High Priestess that a little girl stepped from the Ever-Burning Flame with a warning that a war is coming, that the Six will fade beneath an old enemy’s power, and that one day she would return home with a savior in her arms.”
“But my son is dead.” Mara stepped back, shaking her head. “This is impossible. I—I did not step from the flames. I…I came to save his soul…”
“And you will. You will save his soul. You will raise a hero who will stand against the raging serpents. The Six will fade. The Third Sun will set. It will be your son who determines what Fourth Sun rises and if the Six have a place in it.”
“It can’t be…” Mara turned to the crowd. The sea of glimmering eyes held so much fear, so much pain. The children of the Six would die tonight—all of them. She knew they knew this. She knew they accepted it for the dead savior she brought to them.
“It’s not fair.” Mara clenched the child in her arms. “None of this is fair. If the Third Sun sets, many will die.”
“Countless innocents.”
Their eyes she couldn’t take. They shamed her. They pelted her with their hope and tarred her with their innocence. She stared at her son, her brows knitting together.
“What have I done, my son?” Mara fell to her knees. “Why did I step from the flames? Why did I bring these awful omens?”
A strong hand grasped her arm. Cassandra smiled through her veil and lifted Mara to her feet. “Never again will you kneel to another. Never again will you bow.”
The priestess backed to the edge of the crowd. Mara pressed her child against her chest and cleared her throat. “I…I am sorry. I do not know why the king hunts me. I do not know why his demon priests want my son. I did not wish to bring this
on you. On any of you. I’m just a moon maiden…or I was. I think my home is gone, so now I am a homeless nothing.”
Slowly, Cassandra lifted her veil. The dark, round discs of her eyes shone with the firelight glittering within them. She smiled, tears running in shining lines down her cheeks. “Mara, you are so much more than that.”
Cassandra clutched her robes and kneeled. Her silks pooled around her frame like a fountain of rich wine.
The priestess lifted her arms. Every priest, every acolyte, every man, woman, and child in the enormous room fell to their knees. Sander stood last, shaking his head in awe. He smiled when their eyes met, and then he, too, went to his knees.
Cassandra crossed her hands over her chest. “You have journeyed far, but you have found your way, as you always do.”
Mara shook her head. “I…I’m not…”
“It is here we worship you. It is here we sing your praises. It is here we have loved you. It is here you watched the faithful. It is here you heard their prayers. It is here you mourned as the king you protected turned against you. It is here you sent your spirit into the world and became flesh. It is here you journeyed with your son, the Heir of the Six and Last Light of Magic.”
Mara’s grip tightened on her son. “That’s impossible. I…”
“It is here all bow to you, for this is your house, and in it your fire burns. Blessed is the Burning Mother, for all bow to her, and she bows to none!”
Cassandra bent and prostrated, pressing her palms and forehead flat against the floor. Every soul within the temple did the same, a sea of faithful, bent in respect toward highest goddess of the Six.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The Ever-Burning Flame
“I can’t do this.”
Mara spun from the crowd. She faced the red-rimmed flames swirling like tongues at the Mother’s feet.
“This isn’t me.” She looked to the statue’s bowed head. “I’m not you. I’m not! I’m…I’m a whore! I don’t even have a last name because I never deserved one, and now I’m supposed to be you? Everyone I know will die if they haven’t already, and for what? To save his soul?”
“It was a price worth paying,” Olessa said, walking out from the fire.
Her madame stood beside her, hair flowing in waves down her shoulders, face radiant with her youthful beauty.
“You came back,” Mara said with a sniffle.
Olessa motioned to the other side of Mara. “We both did.”
Excitement raced through her blood. She whipped around and saw her friend nod with respect.
“Gia!”
Gia’s long, dark braids were so perfect and polished, they could have been made of onyx. Her strong eyes shone with pride. She held her chin high and cocked a smile. On her brow, she wore the fiery symbol of the Mother’s loyal clergy. No longer did she wear the brass collar of a moon maiden. Instead, she wore the fiery, flowing silks of a priestess of the Mother’s temple.
“You are a priestess?” Mara asked.
“I did not live as one, but I died as one. It was the least the Six could give me.”
Thunder rocked the temple. The floor trembled as trails of dust filtered from the ceiling. “They’re coming for us,” Mara said. “I’m afraid, Gia. What will they do to me after I give my child to the flames?”
Mara looked at her son. “Oh gods, I have to give him up. I don’t want to give him up. I don’t want to see him burn. I can’t. I can’t! I want to leave. Let me leave.”
Gia smiled sadly. “There are only two ways out of this temple. Through the doors or through the flames.”
“Then the serpents will have me no matter what I do?”
Gia looked over Mara’s shoulder at Olessa. Mara spun around, gripping her son tighter. “What? What is it? Is it a way out?”
Madame Olessa turned on her heel until the the firelight washed over her cheeks. “You cannot let them have you, Mara. They will do unspeakable things. Their power—it is a power of the old ages. If they take you, they will kill you, and the Six will become the Five, and we will all burn beneath the Serpent Sun.”
A sinking pit of dread opened in Mara’s stomach. She turned to the flames as another thunderous blast shook the temple. “It is not just my son who will feel the flames tonight, is it?”
“It is not.”
“I will die tonight. I have done all this, risked so much, and it has always been my destiny to die. Ialane was right when she spoke those words.”
“It is the destiny of all living things to die.” Olessa turned from the fire. Her ghostly hand caressed Mara’s cheek. “But we are more than just a living thing. Gia and I stand before you as proof of the thereafter.”
A third blast smashed against the temple. Mara glanced behind her. Long cracks spread across the doors. The multitudes backed away, tightly packing against one another.
“I don’t know…” Mara faced the flames. “I’m scared. I don’t know if I can do this.”
“What is his name?” Gia asked. She drew close to Mara and gazed at Mara’s son’s pale, lifeless form tucked within the ashen burlap.
“I haven’t given him one. I wanted to wait to see if he was a boy or girl, but then he never drew breath and it seemed pointless.”
“Tell me the story of his life,” Gia said.
“I dreamt of it on the Waterstair, and I told Olessa when she came to me in Hightable. Don’t you spirits talk to each other?”
Gia and Olessa shared a laugh. They walked toward the fire, taking a position on either side. Gia clasped her hands before her. “You told Olessa what you hope, but now a crowd of living souls bears witness. Tell us what you see. Speak the prophecy, Burning Mother. Speak and let it be.”
Mara looked again at her infant soon. She edged toward the flame, its heat washing over her in waves. “He will be a great man. Not a perfect one, but a great one. When the magic of the Six fades, and the Serpent Sun spreads throughout Urum, he will be the only one strong enough to stop it, because in him, I pour all my hope, all my strength, and all my love. In him, I give every godly spark within me. In him, I give my immortal soul.”
Mara stepped closer to the fire. Another crashing crack of thunder rocked the temple.
“Go on,” Gia said. “What next?”
“The Six will fade, but he will remain. He will gather their disciples to him, and through him, they will work wonders. Through him, they will stand against the Serpent Sun. Through him, they will battle King Sol and the glittering dragon he rides. Through him, they will stop…” Mara gasped at the scene unfolding in her mind. “…They will stop the alp from birthing titans. The demons of the Second Sun wish to raise the monsters of the First!”
“And your son, what will he do?” Olessa asked.
Mara’s eyes searched her son’s pale features. He was so calm and placid in her arms. He was such a small bundle of flesh. Nothing so small and innocent could ever wage a war against forgotten gods.
“He will fight them. But he could fail. Oh, gods, he could fail, and if he does, they will make him suffer. I don’t want that for him.”
“No mother wants to see their child suffer.”
A mighty blast exploded behind Mara. She whirled around in time to see the temple doors collapse in a cloud of dust and smoke. The king’s soldiers streamed inside, masked and hooded priests of the Serpent Sun among them. Ialane and Caspran stepped behind them, cloaked in white and clouded by rage.
The faithful did not scream. They did not panic. They clustered tighter and linked hands. Their voices rang out in a hymn of adoration that ordained a night born of violence.
“Mara!” Fear edged Gia’s voice. “You know what your son will do. You know what he can accomplish.”
“But he’s dead, Gia. He never lived. He can never be a savior to them.”
“He will!”
“It’s true,” Olessa added. “The fire will give him life. He will draw breath in the flames.”
Mara turned from the slaughter and stepped cl
oser to the fire. “But only if I give my own life. That is the bargain. That is the price. One soul wakes another.”
Gia’s hand clasped Mara’s shoulder. “Such is the price of holy pilgrimage. Such is the lonely cost of saving souls.”
“No, Gia.” Mara clenched her teeth. She lifted her chin. Her fear flowed from her veins. Her trepidation vanished. A burning star ignited in her chest. “My life for my son’s? This will be the easiest choice I have ever made.”
Mara spun around. Soldiers buried their sharpened blades in priest and acolyte. Serpent priests’ blades whirled through flesh and robe. Ialane Donra and Brother Caspran screamed, vaulting toward her.
Mara wrapped her arms around her son. Her eyes met Ialane’s. The demon alp scowled. Mara smiled. “The Serpent Sun will never rise, you hateful bitch.”
She closed her eyes. She inhaled.
Mara backed into the flames. Their searing heat encased her, formed a pillar of crackling energy that swelled around her body. In the distance, beyond the light, Sister Ialane’s poisonous scream split the air.
“Name him,” Olessa whispered somewhere beyond the fire. “Dawn has arrived. Name him!”
“Hurry!” Gia said. “You must give him a name before the last star of Harvest Festival fades. Do it now, Mara. Name him now!”
Mara bit her lip. The fire engulfed her, and yet, it did not burn. She looked to her son. The flames had not touched his skin, either.
“I don’t know what to name him,” Mara said. She looked to the crowd beyond the flame. Ialane buried her swords in the flesh of the faithful. She hacked through them as easily as a gardener hacks through weeds. Those that fell before her were lucky to scream. Most just bled and died, their life staining the marble floor crimson.
“Who is he?” Gia asked. The panic in her voice had compounded tenfold.
“Name him, Mara,” Olessa commanded, her voice also rife with terror. “Name him before she reaches you!”
“To survive the war he must be strong.” Mara’s voice tumbled into the barest whisper. “He must not falter. He must not bend or break.”
