by Emanuel, Ako
Darkness Risen
Book Four of The Ava’Lonan Herstories
A. Y. Emanuel
Seaside Grape Publishers LLC
A. Y. Emanuel
Published by Seaside Grape Publishers LLC
Copyright ©2013 by A. Y. Emanuel
Illustrations by A. Y. Emanuel
Cover art by A. Y. Emanuel
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in
any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the
Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Books by Ako Emanuel
The Ava’Lonan Herstories Series
Book One: The Age of Light
Book Two: Light Fallen
Book Three: The Rites of Darkness
Book Four: Darkness Risen
(Forthcoming)
Book Five: The Sign of Turning
The Ways of Magic Series
Book One: Magic World
Book Two: Magic Hold
(Forthcoming)
Book Three: Magic Child
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Other Books in the Ava’Lonan Herstories:
Book One: The Age of Light
Book Two: Light Fallen
Book Three: The Rites of Darkness
Other Series:
The Ways of Magic
Book One: Magic World
Magic Hold
CHAPTER I
the darkness, shot through with pricks of light, showed its wounded back, and danced to a wounded beat, turning...
The lain sat empty, dark. The emptiness could, perhaps, have been an occupant in itself, doing the sitting, as if waiting for some event that must surely come. The emptiness had patience - it kept the lain, filled it, filled it with the song of eve. Indeed, the emptiness was itself full and substantial, a weighing presence. The emptiness had form. It turned.
Then - a thing interjected itself into the lain, pushing aside the emptiness but not banishing it. The thing was a glow that blossomed out and took rapid form into a terminus. It was soon joined by five others that blinked into existence within moments of each other. Six figures stepped through into the lain, sending the emptiness to scurry to the corners until it was needed again.
The Six who entered the lain inclined their heads slightly to each other in greeting before beginning the rites of their Egwa’tu, their Sisterhood. But instead of offering blessings, these were rites that wove protections and concealment and bafflements to confuse anyone attempting to spy by means of av’rita. Physical spying, of course, was impossible. This was one of their strongholds - no one foreign could penetrate it, and no one within would even toy with the notion of dreaming of spying.
Rites complete, they stepped forward as if with one mind, faces cowled and masked, and robed in neutral colors. Even though they were known to each other, they kept their identities hidden and pretended anonymity from each other - no chances were taken. If ever, in the unlikely possibility their lorns or their purpose were found out and they were interrogated, their protective rites would ensure that they did not betray the others in word or deed; and the masks and the cowls ensured that, should their minds be stripped of images, again the others’ identities would remain hidden. The Six did not meet often, or for very long, and usually at very strictly and carefully scheduled times and places, but circumstances of opportune rarity had arisen, a twist of events too fortuitous not to at least consider exploiting. So by mutual agreement they met, in one of the few places of assured safety and privacy, there being little time to choose and prepare a truly random place with an acceptable number of decoys.
They took their places around the low oval table of deeply polished red malagon wood. The table was set with a simple, elegant service - six golden handle-less cups and two matching pitchers, one with a handle of agate, the other with a handle of blue jadine. A servant, blindfolded and bound under heavy rites of silence and secrecy, entered, bowing low as she made for the service. She filled each cup unerringly from the pitcher with the handle of agate, holding it carefully with a heavy silk cloth so that none of its contents spilled, either on the table or on her hands. She bowed herself out and the pattering of her footsteps hurrying away stirred a wave of amusement in the lain and in the Six - they knew that she ran to wash her hands thoroughly.
The Six raised their cups and drank to symbolize their Sisterhood, as all such gatherings did - but unlike other gatherings they drank not the juice of the gulu, blessed fruit of the land, but of the mallito, for theirs was not like other Sisterhoods. They were bound together not just by profit and common cause, but also by ancient agreement and nefarious purpose. They drank and the sickly sweet and slightly bitter juice settled vile and grayish-purple in their bellies.
“Sisters,” said the First, always first to speak, “let us convene with the old melae. Things move apace in Trade. The major Trading in the Circles is complete for the Season, and our reports are in. Most of our ventures for the Season’s Trading have come to fruition, though we had to step up our time-table considerably because of Audola’s announcement concerning the Av’ru. And we must step them up again, and some of our movements may no longer be as covert as we would want; but we must reach all of our foremothers’ end-goals within the ten cycles remaining. To do this we have had to bring to bear more drastic and high risk measures. This time we fared well - our opportunities for advancement have quadrupled in the last two Seasons. And,” and here her voice became slightly smug with triumph, “let me report - we have the Dio’gin Trade deal.”
There were murmurs of surprise and satisfaction at the news, for though the diversion of a minuscule part of the pearl Trade was known, what was not known to any but the Six was that the diversion of the Trade route was only the cover for bringing some of the harvesters and dealers of the pearls into the Six’s fold of ‘converts’. It was the task of the First to see to its completion and success, and she had succeeded. But she did not need to speak openly of this as she continued. “The Maeru have captured a part of the Dio’gin pearl Trade for us; its movement through Maeru’lon for the one agreed Season will increase our total revenue by twenty-three percent. This agreement alone puts our plans ahead by more than three cycles, which is well since we are now limited to less than ten cycles to bring things to realization instead of the projected fifty - which, incidentally, was already cut down from our mothers’ projected one hundred and fifty. It will also drive the prices of regular pearls down for the Man’zi and the Curr’uku, giving us an opportunity to buy into their revenues.” She continued, summarizing their other accomplishments in the Circles, bringing all up to date. The cornering of a third of the Estern silk market. The interdiction of Waho herb salt in certain communities. The list was long, and some of the gains insignificant, but most were really to buffer the Dio’gin deal.
“There have been twenty new Yakan’tsu petitioned to the High Queen,” the Second said. “Our opposition may resolve itself to be either in the Manna, the Banu, the Jhore, the Doan, the Malong or the Iamu. These are the Queens that have proposed the newest Yakan’tsu up for consideration that have refused all of our public cun’nu, such as the Moyi, admittance. Each has had between seventy and ninety percent response to all they have invited, and those invited were either our cun’nus’ direct opponents in the Circles, or others that the cun’nu might have had some sway over, but would oppose the cun’nu if given the ch
oice.” She plucked scrolls from the empty air before her, and passed them around. “The Manna propose increased diplomatic relations with the Av’touched. The Banu, the standardization and revaluing of currencies in the Norae. The Jhore, the expansion of fisheries to the Gul’tur River and its western tributaries. The Doan, direct Cres’Terrou Trade rights from the Barru’Weste to the Ritious City. The Malong, land-forming the Cri’Lor marshes. The Iamu, expansion of Cres’lon Trading fairs in the Sor’Este.”
“All very innocuous,” the Third said blandly.
“They will be designed to be misleading,” the Second temporized. “We will simply have to wait until one of them plays her hand. It will be impossible to tell until then.” There were nods of assent all around. It did not matter that they did not know who the opposition was at this point - merely knowing that there was opposition was enough to institute countermeasures. And having so few candidates made it even easier.
“Sisters,” the Third said after the proper sils, “the experimental stage is over. The incubation sites have all been fully seeded; it will be many tens of cycles before any realize that our seeds are there. By then it will be too late, the altered plants will have integrated themselves into the ecological systems too thoroughly to be removed. The altered animals are being introduced more slowly, and carefully interbred with those in the wild - their true characteristics will lie dormant for some time, then emerge within three to four generations. Particularly successful has been the debasement of the - personal - favorite of our corrival, the abarine graa.” All laughed soft, malicious laughs. “The test-sites will be destroyed within two ten’turns.”
“Our stockpiles grow steadily,” the Fourth spoke up, her voice quiet and strong even though her hands shook as she reached for the pitcher with the handle of jadine. She was usually the first to do so. “And we have filled our quota completely. What we gather now is surplus. We have perfected the refrigeration units. By the time Turo’dan overtakes us, we and our present group of supporters will be able to withstand a siege for two hundred cycles on the preserved stocks alone and never once venture from our walls.” The Fourth almost always spoke these same words, adding only improvements and updates. The numbers always increased to a satisfying degree. None had ever protested her reports. Now that they had met their goal, a distinct air of satisfaction could be felt, for they might fulfill their Foremothers’ designs within their own lifetimes. “I will re-evaluate the projected numbers and reset the upper goal, so that we may make plans to expand our group by five Tribes.”
“Our proselytes train well,” the Fifth said, leaning back, ignoring the dull, green fire that had started in her belly. “Those who are not suited or who are found wanting are - culled. But most advance in san’av’rita steadily. We have nearly filled our ranks. Only five hundred more are needed to give us our optimum number.” She passed around reports. These crumbled to dust as soon as each was read and set aside. The dust would be scattered upon the earth and that earth turned so that none would ever reconstruct these particular documents. “Our current number is five hundred thousand, with almost two thousand in reserve and new prospects are being considered every turn. Our star pupil, of course, leads the others in all things.” Again the quietly contemptuous laugh, at the reference to the ex-prince, who wielded the san’av’rita with a viciousness and willingness that surprised even these Six.
The Fifth suppressed the urge to wipe her mouth after this succinct report, wishing she could spit to rid herself of the taste of the mallito. She did not, nor did she reach for the second pitcher. Let the Fourth show weakness if she wished. The Fifth would not.
All cowls turned to the Sixth. Of all of them, she was the most deviant, the most unfathomable. For all their secrecy, she was the most secret. And while all had agendas of their own in addition to their shared plotting, hers were the most opaque. No word nor gesture nor action of hers gave any clue to her deeper intentions. If ever there were a rival for Audola, known as the Obsidian Queen, in being unreadable, it was this one, the Sixth. She rarely spoke, using the Fifth as her mouthpiece. She did not speak now, but her attention sharpened, prompting the Fifth to speak again.
“The Public Face has successfully filled her purpose at the Bolorn, as you all know,” the Fifth said sedately, “and the denouncement of the Heir has diverted our opponent’s attention from what truly lies beyond. This has made our Public Face the target of some, and the center rallying point for others. She has some public support, and some private, outside our known allies, and while many doors closed, others opened. She is, however, now in a precarious position, perhaps even in imminent danger of being Outcast.
“It is because of the potential use of this unexpected support shown the Face, as well as her predicament, that we meet, which brings us to the new melae; how may we exploit this show of succor to its fullest? And in doing so, how may we save Face?”
“Almost immediately, I think we can use the support as a buffer against the Face’s disgrace and to weaken the position of the Heir,” the Second said, reaching for the pitcher with the jadine handle. “If each were to lodge a formal petition of lenience in favor of the Face, it would have some nullifying effect upon her punition. And if each Queen who supports her were to lodge a complaint, avowing personal affront due to the Heir’s absence, by the laws governing satisfaction of personal honor, the Heir might be pressured into forbearance.”
“That won’t mean much if the Heir’s position is strong enough to win the challenge, which it is almost certain to be,” the First commented. “And that would only mark those who do for her disfavor. I think we should cultivate them and use them to strengthen our power base as non-designates when Ava’Lona begins to crumble. Encourage them to begin disassociating themselves in subtle ways from the established Trading routes and start setting up their own, under the table, as it were. Such illegal activity won’t matter once the High Family is gone. And since they already support the Face, perhaps she should just rescind and take what ignominy goes with it until the turning of a new age,” she continued, the slightest trembling of her hands the only indication of her discomfort from the mallito. “They may even be persuaded to support her through Outcasting. Certainly their fidelity could help cushion her castigation - it takes a full Alorn to Outcast a Queen unless decreed by the Goddesses; we may be able to avert full penalties, and she would then only have to pay heavy restitution to the High Family.”
“Doesn’t that defeat the very thing that gave her this support? Isn’t it possible to do both at the same time without sacrificing the Face?” Fourth asked, finally giving in to the screaming of her body from the dull licks of flame spreading through her, and reaching for the pitcher with the jadine handle. “She has been invaluable, though she has only been in existence for such a short time. We may need her again.”
“It is not the first time that one of our operatives has had to fade into obscurity,” the First said, her voice slightly dry with arid force. The force of her voice was diminished, however, by her hand reaching next for the gold and jadine pitcher. “The Face has achieved her goal. She will not even exist in the new age.”
“I do not think we should discard her so lightly,” the Fifth said calmly, not even a tiny hint of steel from the Sixth glinting through her velvetly calm, modulated voice. “Perhaps if we take time to meditate upon the matter?” The Fifth reached for the jadine-handled pitcher.
The Second, Third and Fourth nodded and the First did not object out loud, though her bearing exuded mild irritation that hid a deeper contempt. Her present designs obviously did not call for the Public Face being in potency.
“Let us then give praise to the One Who has guided and supported us. From this One, we gain our strength. To this One we owe our allegiance. In silence, we contemplate this One’s grandeur.”
All lapsed into contemplation. A silence almost like death settled over the cowled figures as each thought deeply of the problem. The silence replaced the emptiness completely. The Six
stilled, became utterly motionless in introspection, like shrouded joumbi, like waking dead, completing the image that the hand of the Beloved had touched this place. A slight disturbance then spoiled the image - the Sixth, the last, reaching for the jadine-handled pitcher and the antidote that it contained.
the darkness turned overhead, a menacing, stooping awareness that crawled upon the nerves and scratched lightly at the back of the neck, a watching, waiting, prowling weight of oppression...
The darkness pressed in on Silonyi.
The darkness had become oppressive long before this point, and the dust a nuisance that bordered on detriment, for it tickled her nose, making her ache with the need to sneeze. The sneeze did not come, but the threat of it hung over Silonyi like a pall, and with it something, some undefined prickle of mounting dread that also hung over her, distracting her attention enough so that she missed some of what was said.
She blinked rapidly and consciously willed the hovering sneeze away as she sat behind the false piece of wall from where she might faintly see and clearly hear the clandestine lorn. The impending sense of something seemed to go with the sneeze, so that she relaxed and refocused her attention on the Six and what they had to say. Only, a few gran later, the dread came back again with redoubled force, dragging the sneeze behind it. She cursed within her thoughts as she invoked her enn hadura training, pulling impulse awareness away from the nerves in her nose, so that the possibility of a sneeze was impossible, and the threat of it immaterial.
