by J M D Reid
“I could have saved Vel,” Ary whispered when he’d finished, words cold.
“What happened in there? What did he tell you?”
Ary’s eyes flicked up. He weighed it, then told her the truth. Her shoulders sagged as he repeated Vel’s confession. She took a long drink of her own wine before leaning back into her chair, her eyes distant.
“He watched me eat that poison and didn’t say a word?” she asked, shock thickening her voice. “That . . . that sow-kissing bastard claimed he loved me!” Her eyes blazed, then, just as swiftly, Ary witnessed grief snuff them out. “What happened, Ary? Before the Blessing, I thought we were friends. The three of us and . . . he wanted to kill you? Just to . . .” Pain crossed her face.
“He broke. Like my ma. Something crept in him, and that slimy vulture used it. After Offnrieth, Vel was different. He apologized to us and . . . Theisseg’s Storm . . . now I just keep seeing my friend needing my help in my mind. He’s surrounded by bullies, but this time I don’t jump in swinging. I let him fight alone and . . .” Emotion stung his eyes. He finished off the last of his drink. “Why should I feel bad? He tried to kill me.”
“Because you’re not a monster, Ary.”
He poured himself a second glass of wine and downed it. He stared at his empty cup. “We don’t have enough.”
“No,” Chaylene said, her own eyes distant. “I’m not sure there will ever be enough.”
*
The Luastria shone golden, blinding the dreaming Archbishopress Uarioa. The old hen flinched, raising her wing to block the bright light. She fanned out her flight feathers as a shield, but gaps in her plumage let through streamers of radiance.
The mottlings had reached her wings.
Uarioa’s gizzard tightened as she stared in horror at the flight feathers falling off her wings and drifting down to the floor. The disease was destroying her life faster and faster. How much longer until they reach my distal feathers?
She flexed the long, nimble feathers at the end of her wings. They were stiff with age, but they could still hold a pen, turn a knob, and do a hundred other small tasks. Once the affliction reached those feathers, she would be at the mercy of her caregivers.
A plucked hen unable to do a thing. The end of her career, of her usefulness, loomed.
“It doesn’t have to end,” sang the golden Luastria.
“Who are you?” Uarioa chirped.
“Lanii, daughter of Riasruo,” the Golden Luastria answered.
“No, you’re not,” Riasruo chirped. “I’ve read your book, Iiwroa.”
“I know. But the fiction is important. You must believe it. Embrace it. Everything that I have sacrificed to give us this world above the Storm would be in jeopardy.”
Gall curdled in Uarioa’s gizzard. “Yes, it would be so tragic if the skies found out the truth.”
Iiwroa trilled her laughter. “And it would be the end of all your power.”
“The power I’m about to lose.” Another feather fell from her wing.
“Become Her avatar like I did. Be reborn as Riasruo’s Golden Daughter.”
“More lies?” Uarioa clucked.
“A pleasant lie is better than a harsh truth.” The radiance burned brighter. Ozone tickled Uarioa’s nose. “The Cyclones are increasing. The Stormtouched roam the skies.”
Uarioa rustled her featherless tail. “Wriavia and Xaipiai will deal with Briaris Jayne. The Skein of Adjudication has never failed.”
“They’re dead.”
Uarioa’s gizzard tightened. “What?”
“They’re dead, and soon you will be a useless hen. You’ll get to watch as the Wrackthar destroy the Diamond Hearts. Each time, more of the sky will fall. Each time, more of Riasruo’s beloved children will perish.” Iiwroa snapped her beak shut, the loud click reverberating through Uarioa’s dream. “I did not soil my wings to see all my hard work undone!”
“Then do something,” Uarioa hissed. “I’m about to be useless.”
“I’m dead. You live. Sing the Song of Embodiment and become Her avatar like I did.” The radiance burned through Uarioa’s wings. Her feathers twisted and shriveled. “Sing out to creation and save the skies!”
Uarioa woke up with a start in her nest, crowing as her gizzard squeezed tight about her stone. She rose from the wrappings of blankets and stared at her reflection in her alabaster mirror. Her naked flesh shone smooth across her belly and chest. The mottling had reached her wings and legs. Her talons scraped at the floor.
“I can’t be Her avatar,” she whispered.
But if the Golden Daughter was reborn to usher in a new Dawn Empire . . .
A feather fell from her wing. It seemed to drift for eternity before it reached the red sandstone floor. Uarioa did not have much time left. She nestled down in her bedding, shivering as cold leaked through the shuttered window. Autumn gripped Ulanii, and winter’s chill was not far behind. She ignored the tap of her acolyte’s beak upon her chamber’s doors as she pondered the decision before her.
*
Lheshoa 14th, 399 VF (1960 SR)
The Storm churned beneath the Iron Horse. Nrein could not help but look down at the tops of the clouds boiling only ropes beneath the keel. The Black Fear and the Shark’s Maw held station beside his ship. It was fascinating to see the wispy top of the Storm so close. Its roar shivered through the vessel.
Nrein had never been so close to power. No merchantman would ever dare to approach the cursed clouds this low. With every howl of wind, he could hear Dhessech’s screams of pain. The Betrayed sang for help, but the Agerzaks had long turned their back on the weak Goddess. They used Her Gifts, but they would never help Her.
“The scout returns,” Tsossar announced.
Nrein ripped his eyes from the Storm. The eastern sky lightened behind him as he peered at the small speck on the horizon: Onhur. Another shape moved before it, a raider galloping his stallion across the skies. Nrein clenched his fists. Tonight, he would show the Autonomy who ruled the skies. Not their prancing warships, swollen by their own importance like a puffer fish. Sharks ruled the skies. And no species was fiercer than the bluefin.
Weppen, the scouting raider, galloped his steed right onto the deck. Fiery sparks fell from the horse’s hooves, snuffed out in the air as they scattered about the deck. The stallion neighed as he jerked back on the reins and fixed squinting eyes on Nrein.
Nrein waited for his report.
“All three ships are in port,” Weppen nodded. “And the Dauntless got a fresh mast on. But the rigging ain’t done yet. No way she’s sailing today. Probably not tomorrow neither.”
Nrein’s smile was deadly amid his bristling beard. “All tucked in at the port, eh? Just sitting there like ripe maidens ready for the pluckin’?”
A laugh roared through the crew. Nrein drank it in.
“Well, boys, tonight we’ll devour the entire eastern fleet! The Fringe’ll be ours to reave and plunder!”
No pirate will ever be more feared than me.
“We feast tonight!”
After I rescue my sweet sister from the whorehouse.
Part Four
Reaver
I hope I have built something that shall last through the eons, eternal and constant. The lies I told are sound. Are strong. Are powerful. However, only a fool trusts in hope, so I make plans for catastrophe else I risk all I created. You must understand why I have deceived all the skies. Why I have betrayed all who trusted me. One day, you, or your daughter, or her daughter’s daughter may face the same agonizing choice I did. Your decision must be made with eyes wide open in the full radiance of truth. So be strong, my gentle daughter, and know that always I love you.
—Preamble, The Book of Iiwroa
Chapter Thirty-Two
The next day, Vel’s body lay on a pyre, his arms folded over his chest. He appeared asleep, but his chest didn’t rise. I could have saved you. Ary forced himself to stare at his friend, tears stinging his eyes, the sight flagellating his
soul.
“All those who love my fire shall find eternity in my warmth,” sang the Luastria acolyte as she stood over Vel’s body, clutching a burning brand. “The fire cleanses us all.”
Riasruo’s promise, sung by her priestess, resounded false in Ary’s ears. Vel had been killed by Riasruo’s own assassin; he was a casualty in the Goddess’s attempt to end Ary’s life. If She truly cared about Vel, She wouldn’t have killed him or the eleven others who had died on the Dauntless.
She wouldn’t have tried to kill my wife!
“Every time you step outside and feel the Sun Above’s feathery rays caressing your shoulders, know that a part of the light is Vel shining bright, sharing the warmth of his heart with you,” the Priestess sang, lowering her brown wing clutching the brand to the pyre. Fire licked at the oil-soaked wood, spreading with greedy, crackling hunger towards Vel’s flesh. “Fire is life, and now Vel returns to its purest form, cleansed of his sins. For the fire cleanses us all!”
“The fire cleanses us all!”
Ary didn’t speak the catechism with everyone else, his thoughts a swirling tempest. He would still have his life if it wasn’t for Your assassin.
The acolyte sang her mournful, wordless dirge. Ary let the melody gust around him. The flames crackled and fed. We both killed him. Me and you, Riasruo. You ripped out his guts, and I left him dying. Do you feel this same guilt? The pyre’s smoke—Vel’s smoke—rose into the sky, black and greasy, carrying his soul to Riasruo’s sun. Will you explain to him why he had to die when he bathes in Your fire?
The crew drifted away as the fire burned. The Dauntless had to be readied. The rigging was almost complete and fresh shots from the pottery had to be loaded. Ary didn’t depart. He maintained his vigil as the fires raged, reducing logs to charcoal and Vel to ash. He clutched the clay urn in his hand. He would see Vel’s remains were shipped home to his parents.
Finally, only Chaylene and Estan stood at Ary’s side.
“Does Riasruo even love us?” Ary asked.
“That’s blasphemous,” Chaylene gasped.
“She’s tried to kill me. You.” Ary glanced at his wife. “Even Estan. She tried to kill us all.”
“Wriavia did,” Chaylene insisted.
“Wriavia’s orders came from the Bishriarch. She speaks for Riasruo.”
Chaylene swallowed.
“Theisseg comes to my dreams. Why couldn’t Riasruo visit the Bishriarch’s? What if she’s not the benevolent Goddess we’ve been raised to believe she is?” Ary swallowed. “Theisseg is trapped in pain, and yet She gave me the power to heal.”
Estan recited, his words soft yet powerful:
Lightning flashed
Goddess in pain
Betrayed, imprisoned
Sacrificed to hold aloft
A crime obscured
The sun a lie
Sky Towers, her bonds,
Freedom’s cost,
Sacrifice.
Ary glanced at Estan. “That’s the poem you recited that day by the Dawnspire, right?”
Estan nodded. “‘The sun a lie,’” he repeated. “The Church, the Bishriarch, named the poet a heretic and declared her works blasphemous. Why? What truth did the Church desire to obscure?”
Ary waited for Estan’s answer.
“What if Riasruo bound Theisseg to the Storm?”
Chaylene drew in a sharp breath, her eyes glancing at the autumn sky, the sun a yellow blur bleeding through gray clouds. “Are you saying . . .” She swallowed then shook her head. “Riasruo wouldn’t have created the Storm.”
Certainty gripped Ary. “Iiwroa betrayed Theisseg somehow. And Iiwroa led the Hopeful Company in search of Riasruo, right?”
“Yes,” Chaylene nodded. “She found the Goddess atop Mount Wraiucwii and brought back the Blessings. It’s what let the Wrackthar be defeated.”
“Theisseg had been imprisoned before,” Estan pointed out. “That’s how the ancient Sister Wars ended. Haashwil, the progenitor of the Gezitziz, trapped Theisseg. It was Kaltein who freed her and started the Wrackthar War.”
“The Storm Goddess was trapped by Haashwil because she’s evil,” insisted Chaylene.
“The Theisseg I see in my dreams doesn’t feel evil.” Ary swallowed. “She’s just suffering.” A shiver ran through him. “What if Riasruo is evil?”
“The Church is very protective of portraying events in a certain light,” Estan said. “Why else would they censor Nzuuth’s poetry? They are hiding something. Maybe it is the supposed benevolence of Riasruo.”
“Benevolence!” Ary snorted. Dark winds flared. He battled against them and lost. “She tried to kill us! Wriavia burned our house down, poisoned my food, attacked us, and unleashed a plague on our ship!” He spat. “Right, benevolent.”
“But . . .” Chaylene shook her head. “Riasruo can’t be evil. Maybe it’s just the Church. Luastria aren’t much different from Humans. They can be corrupted.”
“But they speak for Her. They have assassins that kill in Her name. You should have heard Wriavia before I snapped his neck. He didn’t care if he died; he just cared about seeing me dead. All because I was touched by Theisseg. I can’t help that! No just Goddess would condemn me for that!”
Chaylene looked down and shook her head. The fire crackled and danced before them, consuming Vel. The popping flames drew Ary’s attention. Staring at the fire, feeling its heat, devoured his anger. His shoulders sagged in guilt as his ashes remained.
“I’m sorry, Vel,” Ary whispered. “I should have healed you.”
Chaylene leaned against Ary, clutching to him as she said, “Goodbye, Vel. I . . . I wish we could be friends again.”
*
Chaylene bought two bottles of wine in the marketplace as the sun set. One bottle just wasn’t enough. She and her husband had emptied it too quickly the night before. A hole filled her heart, a vacancy left by Vel. In its place, the Vionese sailor had taken root.
The funeral fires consumed her disgust for Vel. The anger. The loathing. It burned back the last few months to happier memories. Vel bouncing in the wake of Ary, nervous about feeling his pa’s belt for skipping school. His broad grins as he chased after Chaylene in the Snakewood, or raced up the shallow Bluesnake, muddy water splaying about his feet.
She’d never get any of that back. She’d never get to be that carefree girl again.
Chaylene trudged through the crowd, prowling the fishmonger’s for fresh catches to fry up for her evening meals. Chaylene’s tongue rubbed along the roof of her dry mouth while her hands shook. She wanted to pop the cork and take a swig of the bottle right now. A soothing sip to relax her after a stressful day.
“Hey, Chaylene!” Zori shouted, rushing up and bumping into Chaylene with a playful smile. “You and Ary cooking dinner again?”
Chaylene smiled, hoping it would lift her mood. “Yeah.” She had more than just the wine in the basket. “One last decent meal before we ship out. How about you?”
“Drinking at the Last Port with Guts,” she grinned. “We might rent a room for the night.”
“No more pretending to star-watch?”
Zori shook her head. “He’s my man. I never really thought it would happen. Back home, I just used them. They were strong and protected me. Letting them heave atop me was just the small price I had to pay.”
“Doesn’t sound small to me.”
Zori shrugged. “I guess not. At the time, I just didn’t think about it. I just retreated into my mind until they’d finished. It wasn’t bad. I usually even enjoyed it. They never hurt me. A few were even nice to me before we drifted apart.”
“Does Guts know about that?”
“A little. I don’t really talk to him about it. That was my old life. I don’t need to buy a big man to protect me.” Her grin swelled. “That’s just a perk now.”
“A nice one,” Chaylene said, her smile genuine this time.
“So two bottles? You two are really going to enjoy yourselves.” Zori f
rowned, her head cocking to the side. “Since when did you like wine? You never drank during training.”
“I was afraid to. My ma drank orange wine night and day. I never really understood why until the last few weeks. She wanted to forget.”
Zori touched Chaylene’s arm. “Do you want to forget something?”
“What would I need to forget?” She tried to sound light and airy.
“I don’t know.” Zori bit her lip. “I heard some talk. You almost died at Offnrieth. Everyone is different. Guts isn’t quite as cheery. He talked a little bit about that night. He was so scared when the Agerzaks were trying to overwhelm them after the Dauntless abandoned them.”
“We didn’t abandon them. We were fighting the pirate ship. I had to . . .” Chaylene closed her eyes. “I was busy trying to suppress the enemy ship’s ballistae.”
“I still remember that Stormrider I crushed with my Pressure.” Zori’s voice grew small. “In my dreams, I crush him over and over. I watch the blood and flesh ooze through the cracks in his armor. There was a man beneath the metal. What did he think when the air suddenly squeezed in around him?”
“You didn’t have a choice. You saved my life. He was about to kill me.”
“That’s what I tell myself.” She kicked a stone. “Theisseg dammit, but I hate thinking about that day. I can still feel the arrow sticking in my side. I thought I was going to die and join my stupid ma up on the sun.”
Chaylene nodded. “Guts was so scared when he found you. He jumped from the crow’s nest to the deck, cradling you in his arms.”
Zori smiled. “Of course he did. He’d do anything for me.” Her smile grew into a grin. “I need to make sure he rents that room.”
Chaylene’s cheeks burned. “Well, you enjoy yourself. I hope Guts makes a reputable woman out of you.”
“Oh, he will, one day. He’s a great guy, but. . . well, he’s laid back. And I think he’s a little afraid to ask me. His last betrothed tore up his flower when he was drafted. Dirty sow! I wouldn’t mind looking her up and thrashing her for that.”
