Darkness Risen (The Ava'Lonan Herstories Book 4)

by Emanuel, Ako

  “You meant everything to me,” she said softly. “You were my first and best friend, you were there when I needed you. I did love you, Denyo, I do love you.” But not in that way. She looked him and dissolved into tears, confusion at her own feelings turning rapidly into turmoil. And his familiar embrace supported her, his gentle touch wiped at her tears, his voice tried to soothe. She clung to him for a long, longing moment, then pulled away.

  “No, no I can’t do that. I can’t hide in your arms anymore.” She cast about as though unable to see, cast a look back at him. “I - I don’t know what to do.” She shook her head, feeling more tears and fighting them. “I - have to go, I have to think.” And she fled.

  “Pentuk!” he called after her, running in pursuit, but she was gone.

  …the darkness, its duty done, laid itself down to rest, and the light, called to take the next watch, turned…

  The rumble of the door tuk’ni announcing a visitor woke Jeliya from a dreamless doze. She was tempted to plead fatigue and request that that whomever it was come back later. But when the door guard gave the name, she knew that this visitor would not be put off – and for her to try to do so would indicate a major weakness in her position and her self-character. After all, she had as much as requested this one’s presence when she accepted the responsibility of answering the challenge made against her. She accepted.

  As the guest went through the formalities of entry (for he was not of the blood), a flurry of servants and maddi descended on her briefly, like a perfumed and gauze-covered dust dervish, dizzying but not really dangerous.

  “Peace and light to you, High Heir,” the visitor said, gliding into the lain as a panther glides in the shadows. And like a panther, this one had a quiet way about him as of enormous power or energy seething just underneath a tranquil exterior.

  “Peace and light to you, Chi’ol’bey T’mundo,” Jeliya replied, rising with just a little bit of difficulty to return the bow and spread arms of the other’s greeting. She invited him to sit across from her at a low table that had been brought in just for the purpose of this meeting. He folded himself to the plump cushion with the fluidity of settling honey, and with her permission clapped for a service of refreshment to be brought.

  “I have heard that you have been through some trials these last few ten’turns,” T’mundo said conversationally as he began preparing gulu and suga’dish tea from the golden service set before them.

  “That’s one way of describing it,” she answered, and the words implied a dry, wry snort.

  “So, tell me about this Jur’Av’chi that you have, and about the one you are linked to,” the chi’ol’bey prompted, pouring tea and honey for both of them.

  Jeliya hedged inside as they gave thanks and poured small libations. The thought of revealing what she had learned about the link within her was almost as disconcerting as showing a personal journal in which one’s secrets are kept – an invasion of privacy. How to justify that which defied justification?

  She drank a sip of tea, then stared at the surface of the liquid, as though hoping to read some answer to her hesitations in the rising steam. And perhaps there was an answer curling in the vapors, for inspiration hit her with a spark of memory.

  “Have you ever read any Kab’yo’teng Herstory?” she asked, looking up into his quietly penetrating eyes.

  He raised an eyebrow at the unusual direction that the answer was coming from. “The herstory before the coming of the Tru’Av’ru? Some,” he replied, his gaze mysterious through the rising steam. “What area in particular?”

  “The Rite of Solu and Solu’san’a before the coming of the Tru’Av’ru.”

  T’mundo’s eyes widened. “No, not in depth. Though I specialize in Solu’san’a, I’ve never ventured that far back in my research.”

  Jeliya nodded. “That’s not unusual. I did a little research in that area when I was beginning my search for the cause of the Zehj’Ba. It might interest you to know that Solu’san is not the same as it was in Kab’yo’teng times. Before then, it was not even forbidden to share the Rite of Solu with someone of the opposite gender, so long as one’s ‘rita did not grossly out-weigh the other’s. There were soft castes back then, according to av’rito’ka - two people of the same rito’ka level could share the Rite without ill-effects or special rito-balancing preparations. It was only after the Yo’teng that it became forbidden.”

  T’mundo looked piercingly at her. “Are you saying that your link is a result of committing Solu’san?”

  She made a negating gesture, setting her cup down. “No, I’m building a premise. Something for you to consider when I tell you my tale.” And she recounted to him most of what had taken place, including the possibility of having performed the Rite of Solu in Gavaron’s presence, though she had not been aware of it, and all the other times they had voluntarily joined souls.

  When she finished the chi’ol’bey’man came around the low table and performed the Takati’jur’na, a High Order Rite that examined and weighed the Jur’Av’chi within another without directly entering the other’s mind.

  “I have never seen the like,” he admitted when he resumed his seat. “And I can find no other chi subsumed within your own. But you did commit the Solu’san.” His voice was grave.

  “No,” Jeliya insisted. “What I did was not the Solu’san because the one I am connected to is from across the Av’ru. The rules changed when the Tru’Av’ru came into being. Perhaps they changed again when it left. The Goddesses have not turned from me – I still feel Their regard. I am not cast into the Supreme One’s shadow. I have thought long and hard about this, wondering why, how this could have happened and – not have happened.”

  “And you propose that because this other is not the progeny of Ava’lona, that what you did can be excused?” His voice was almost incredulous.

  “I propose this: first ask, why does the Solu’san happen? What is the difference in men and women before and after the Yo’teng?” She knew that she was getting close to the secret that she must not share, just skirting its edge. But just.

  “Women were blessed by the Ava’dan.”

  “And men were cursed? The Goddesses never decreed that. I think that women’s rita became stronger and men’s, perhaps weaker. Think! You did the research. In all the cases of the Solu’san, it is the man’s chi that is subsumed. What if on the other side of the Tru’Av’ru men’s ritas became stronger? What if that is true now, and we don’t even know it?”

  “Highness,” and there was a note of almost warning and not quite reproach in the chi’ol’bey’s voice, “you flirt with the edge of heresy. None may speak against the Goddesses and the Supreme One, not even you. Especially not to excuse a trespass.”

  “I am not speaking heresy,” Jeliya stated calmly, “I am setting forth a hypothesis. The Av’ru is different from the Tru’Av’ru. That is plain knowledge, fact. There is evidence to support the theory that my Jur’Av’chi’n is from across the Av’ru.” Now she trod dangerously close to two secrets, but she pressed on. “If this is so, and the rules that apply here do not apply there, is what happened really Solu’san? If he is not subsumed in me, have I really transgressed?”

  T’mundo looked away over her balcony rail to a middle distance. He pondered his contemplative point in space for long grans. Jeliya looked at her hands folded in her lap. Had she convinced him?

  “I honestly do not know,” he said at last. “It is a fine hypothesis, as far as it goes, but that means nothing to the Supreme One. Hypotheses do not, ritious pardon, make.”

  “Then let the Goddesses judge. There is a Rite that can judge if I have earned Ritious disfavor, is there not?”

  His eyes lay heavy on her. “Yes, there is. And you do know that if it is shown that you have earned such disfavor, that you will be Outcast for all time?”

  “I’m aware of that,” Jeliya replied, wanting to swallow in a throat suddenly dry, “but I’m willing to take that chance. I must be judged fit to assum
e the High Throne. If that will absolve me, then I will undergo the Rite. All doubt can then be laid to rest.”

  “Think what you are asking, Highness. Think hard before you ask it.” His cautioning was wearing at her resolve. But there was no other recourse.

  “I have, chi’ol’bey’one. If there is doubt in the mind of even one person in this Realm, then all may as well doubt. I will not disgrace my Family and my Tribe by assuming the mantle of the High Queen with such doubt. Better I were still lost in the ne’daiwa’lons. A Queen under a shroud of doubt is a weak Queen, and a weak Queen is worse than no Queen. I have no choice.”

  T’mundo nodded in acquiescence and approval. Jeliya was right. There was no choice. Not so long as one person held the tiniest hesitancy would her reign be successful.

  “Very good, Highness. I had to be sure that you understood all the ramifications of the situation. I shall begin making preparations at once, and the Rite will be added to your list of Ascension duties.”

  He extended a hand and drew her to her feet, then kissed her forehead unexpectedly in a kind of benediction.

  “You are worthy of the High Crown,” he said. And with that enigmatic statement, he took his leave.

  the light turned...

  Ashmisa appeared in the receiving lain. Jeliya greeted her and the Voice returned the greeting, bowing and spreading her arms.

  “Peace and light, High Heir,” she said warmly.

  “Peace and light, Voice,” Jeliya smiled.

  Ashmisa stepped off of the jonona symbol and significantly pulled a papi’ras scroll from a special carry tube at her waist.

  She presented the scroll Jeliya, dropping into her guise of a Voice of the High Queen. The Heir’s response to that somber air was automatic.

  “This is the official schedule of your participation in the De’en’nu, set down and sealed by the hand of the High Queen for the De’en’nu Festival,” she said, taking a seat before Jeliya. She presented the document.

  “Please read it to me,” Jeliya requested formally.

  Ashmisa nodded and opened the scroll with a practiced snap of her wrist. “During this ritious Festival you will be coroneted Av’Daun. On the turn before the De’en’nu’un, you will be presented at Court in your official return. It was thought that a late, public return would emphasize and confirm the rumors of your infirmity. When the Court sees that you must return by palanquin, strength will be loaned to your answer to the challenge by the Ottanu. As Otaga said, your injuries cannot by themselves excuse your absence at the Bolorn’toyo, but it can lend support to the platform you must build for your rebuttal.”

  Jeliya nodded, seeing the sense of this.

  “You will take your place at the High Queen’s right hand and sit through Court, then participate in the special ending rites and invocations that mark the eve of the De’en’nu’un. After that you will have one small meal, go through the De’e Rites of Purification, and at Av’set you begin your first eve’s vigil. That’s the Eve of Confirmation.”

  Jeliya listened sedately to the itinerary set out for her. It would be a real test of her mettle, especially in her not-fully-recovered condition. She was healing, but still a long way from being totally well. But Ashmisa did not ask if she were up to accomplishing these tasks. It was a given that she had to be. As High Heir she had no choice.

  They had been doing their best to fortify her in the last several turns. Ultimately, though, it came down to her own strength of will and conviction, and, of course, the blessings of the Goddesses.

  “You will recite the Mantra of Confirmation one thousand times before the eve ends, and with each recitation you must cut a rough piece of jadine into a perfect rhomboid cut with your av’rita, to be added to your mantle of Av’Daun at your inception. Each will be blessed by your mantra so that it may adhere to your mantle.

  “At Av’Dawn you will follow the High Queen upon the Blessed Path of Av to the Festival grounds. The path is one thousand paces long, and you must never stop on the Path; though you may slow or even take a slight pause if necessary. When you have traversed the Path you will be taken to the pavilion of Ava’Lon to preside with the High Queen over the First Turn of the De’en’nu. You may rest until zenith, when the Zenith Blessings take place and in which you will take part. Then you are excused to refresh yourself until Av’set, when the invocations for the De’en’nu’me, the Second Turn of the Festival, will take place. Then begins your second eve’s vigil, when you will recite the Mantra of Invocation one thousand times. This mantra is to call the Ancestors, the Goddesses and the Supreme One to come and sit in judgment of your ritu’chi, to find you worthy to take the Golden Throne. With each repetition of the Mantra you will shape a gold nugget into the symbol of the High Family and Tribe of Ava’Lona, with your av’rita. Each will be blessed by your mantra so that it may adhere to your mantle of Av’Daun.

  “At Av’Dawn you will follow the High Queen upon the Blessed Path of Av. Then you will be taken to the pavilion of Ava’Lon. The High Queen will do battle with her seven best warru, and then you will battle her next seven best, all having been chosen the eve before in the De’e trials. After that you will rest until zenith when the Zenith Blessings take place, and in which you will take part. Then you will be excused to refresh yourself for your third eve’s vigil, before the De’en’nu’ka. After the invocations of Av’set, you will recite the Mantra of Revelation one thousand times. With each repetition you will gaze into the heart of a cut diamond and pull out all impurities with your av’rita. Each will be blessed by your mantra, and each will be added to your mantle of Av’Daun. Any visions or revelations from the Goddesses or the Supreme One should come to you in that eve, and you will have time to record them later. At Av’Dawn you will traverse the Blessed Path, and at the pavilion your will complete the Rites of Passage to become Av’Daun named. At that time you will answer any challenges made against you. When all has been resolved you will follow the High Queen out among your people on the radius path around the pavilion. When you return, all the gems and gold that you had blessed in your three eves’ vigil will have been added to your mantle, and you and the High Queen will be dressed and you both will assume your mantles and the High and Low Thrones. You will preside until one san’chron before Av’set, when the Feast of De’en’nu commences. After two san’chrons, you may retire to contemplate your new status and be apprised of your new duties. Then, at Av’Dawn the next turn, your new duties begin.”

  Ashmisa put down the scroll after this long oration and looked at Jeliya. “Do you have any questions?” she asked, in her own voice, different from the officious voice in which she had read the itinerary.

  Jeliya shook her head. Usually the ceremonies for any of the Festivals, including the De’en’nu, were not so strenuous. But since it coincided with her coronation as High Heir Named, the provisions for that eventuality had been instituted. Plus there was the test for her fitness to rule. She had known this was coming. All her questions had been answered long before.

  “Then you must rest and prepare yourself for the coming turn, and your return to Court. Blessing of peace and light be upon you, Highness.” She pressed Jeliya’s hand and received an answering smile, then took her leave.

  …the light, tense and turgid with anticipation, turned…

  The City of Ava’Lon swelled as a flower blossoming swells, burgeoning forth with fruits of harvest and hard work. Its petals unfurled as its people unfolded stands and pavilions, built booths and platforms, and generally prepared for the huge celebration in the harvested fields outside the City proper. And at the heart of this bloom rose the Palace T’Av’li, from which all power and grace flowed like the heady scent of pollen and the sweet turn of nectar, moving and moved by the will of the people, awaiting the right moment to put forth its richest bounty - the royal Family of the High Queen.

  Merchants buzzed about the City, industrious as bees, directing workers in moving and storing goods. Local nobles and Royal entourages moved st
ately through the press and crush without av’tunning, like colorful bouquets in their own right, settling into their temporary residences to await the festivities. Children, excused from lessons, ranged free like ants, whether running and playing with youthful abandon, or helping with preparations, fetching and carrying, ferrying messages, and innumerable small things that the adults were too busy to deal with. They performed many simple, but pleasurable tasks, decorated costumes and stuffed themselves with treats. Adolescents helped take stock of inventory, prepared less complicated dishes or readied ingredients for others to use, watched over younger siblings and tried to be as grown up and useful as possible. The adults readied themselves and their various goods and services for the influx of people who would arrive from all over the Realm, including the Av’Touched.

  But at one san’chron to zenith, all activity ceased. Everywhere in the Wulady Realm, the youthful and aged turned their eyes to a special plaza, waiting.

  the light turned...

  In the Palace T’Av’li, Audola stood at her balcony, watching the rush and flow of its denizens like the pulse of blood through some huge beast. Her hands lay lightly on the banister, her eyes on the glittering buildings below, but her mind was farther away, at a certain Lan’mba farthest from the Palace.

  To know that Jeliya was safe was enough. Audola felt time, like an enemy, weigh against her. Then, like a beast in fright, the motion below her stopped, blood frozen.

  “Av’One, it is time,” Luyon murmured, stepping out of an av’tun. Servants and maddi slipped silently into the lain.

  Time to commence the combining of the Ways. Audola squared her shoulders and gave herself up to the servants’ gentle tortures. Half a san’chron later, she av’tunned to her lain of rite-casting, where her rit’ati waited to assist her. She stood in the middle of the chamber, where a mosaic of malachite tiles made the stylized form of a boabi. The rit’ati began beating their lap tym’tyn drums.