by Azalea Ellis
—Tyler Knott Gregson
The dreams kept coming, and as I grew more tired, it grew harder for me to tell the difference between them and the surreal, cold wilderness we traveled through. I meditated, instead of sleep, but it wasn't the same.
I was trying to meditate as the sun set one evening, curled up in my Estreyan sleeping tube.
Kris tripped over my feet in the twilight, breaking me out of a mutated flashback of the Intelligence Trial, where I'd killed a girl to save myself, and then convinced Sam to do the same.
I shot upward, and she startled back from me and gasped, surprised. "Sorry!" she said. "It's kinda hard to see—"
But I wasn't listening to her words, only noticing the fear on her face, and the way it made me feel. As if I'd done something wrong. I hadn't done anything wrong.
“Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" I snapped.
“Uh . . .” Her eyes widened. "No, I mean—”
“Why would I do that? I said I'd protect you, didn't I?” My words weren't vicious, yet, but my tone was. “I could have hurt you long before now if I wanted to! I'd just slice your throat open and let you bleed out in a few seconds.”
Blaine stepped between us then, scowling at me in a way I hadn't seen him do before, even when talking about NIX. "What ridiculous insanity has come over you?” he said in a low voice. "She tripped. It is dark. It was an accident."
Gregor stepped forward from where he'd been watching, little fists balled up tight, thick eyebrows scrunched over his nose. "You're being mean," he said, throat thick with the hint of suppressed tears. "Don't be mean to my sister."
The rage left me suddenly, like a ghost passing through and sucking the air from my body, leaving me gasping. “I—I’m sorry," I said, panting for words, or air, something to fill the hollow in the center of my chest. "I was dreaming," I lied desperately. "A nightmare. I woke up and I didn't quite realize what was habbening—” I broke off, hand shooting to my face, covering my nose.
I turned away, hiding the blood that had made me blubber, and the discordance of emotion. What was wrong with me? This was not normal. I could tell that. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “I didn’t mean what I said. Could you go get Sam for me?”
Kris nodded, wide-eyed, and ran off.
Once the bleeding had stopped, I had Sam force me into a dreamless sleep. When I woke naturally, no nightmares forcing me awake in the middle of the night, I felt better than I had in a long while. “We need to hurry,” I said.
“We can be there before daybreak tomorrow, if we do not stop tonight,” Torliam said.
We pushed ourselves at an exhausting pace. However, as we got closer to the capitol, excitement overrode some of our weariness. Torliam, especially, seemed to brighten. “I have not seen my family or friends in so long,” he said.
We arrived in the dead of night.
I had been half-dozing in my saddle, meditating to calm the effects of both Chaos and the God of Knowledge's attack.
The capitol was beautiful in a way I'd never seen on Earth. Similar to some of the urban ruins we'd been sent to for Trials, the architecture was fantastical, and things seemed to have been designed strictly for beauty. A white wall of marble surrounded the city, but it didn't look particularly useful for stopping attacks—probably because little could be, against an Estreyan or the type of monsters that might attack a city filled with them.
I wondered if they had other defenses. Perhaps advanced technology of some sort was in place, leaving the wall as a symbolic decoration.
Guards called out to us when we were still far enough away that even I with my enhanced sight couldn't make out their forms. I found that surprising for a moment, before I realized that of course Estreyan guards would be picked for their Perceptive powers.
Torliam called back to them, identifying himself.
There was a pause, and then they called out to us again, ordering us to stop. They sent out a group of five to meet us on foot.
Torliam stepped forward, pulling his hood back from his face, so that they could see him.
“Identify yourself!” one called, despite the fact he’d already done so.
Torliam said his full name again.
“He’s telling the truth,” one said.
“Torliam, son of Mardinest, has been dead for years!” another snapped back.
“I have returned,” Torliam said. “I was not killed. Only . . . detained. Send word to my mother-lord. The warrior-queen will want to know of her son’s homecoming.”
With a bit more suspicious muttering amongst themselves, the group of five escorted us just inside the gates, where they set an even larger number of guards on us while someone went to wake the queen.
They took Torliam into a building to the side of the gate, where they had some sort of communication device he would use to prove his identity to his mother. He returned only a couple minutes later, a smile and an excited tension both badly suppressed.
The queen arrived about a half hour later. I knew who she was because of the golden circlet around her forehead, the honor guard of armored Estreyans following silently behind her, and the way her face changed when she saw Torliam.
She threw open her arms and strode toward him, not quite rushing.
He stepped forward, and they hugged each other. It lasted less than a minute, as they both seemed to gather themselves and return to that slightly regal bearing.
She kept a hand on his arm, though, as if afraid he might disappear if she removed her grip. “I thought you were dead, my son.”
“I am alive,” he said simply. “And I have much to tell you. My quest was not in vain.”
Her eyes widened. “You must tell me everything. But first, food.” She turned and swept an assessing gaze over the rest of us. "Your companions may stay in the south wing, near the kitchens," she said imperiously. "No doubt they are hungry, and would appreciate a warm meal," she added somewhat more kindly.
“You will be safe,” Torliam said. “Eat, and rest.” He looked at me. “I will come find you when I have spoken with my mother.”
The queen didn't seem to be waiting for an answer, because she waved to one of her other companions with a nod, and he stepped forward, holding out a metal staff with lines running through it somewhat like the lines that scored the outside of the Seed spheres. Little rings of metal floated around the top of it, where the crystal ball would have gone if it were a storybook magic staff. It reminded me of the Shortcut.
I realized that was probably not a coincidence, when Torliam stepped forward to wrap a hand around it, below his mother’s. The queen wrapped both hands around her staff, and twisted. The metal slid and clicked into place, and they were gone, with only a little breeze as air rushed to fill the space they’d been.
The rest of us stuck together as the guards escorted us through the sprawling city, which was filled with lights even at this time of the night, to the palace kitchens. We ate, gorging ourselves on food with actual seasoning that hadn’t been scalded over a campfire.
The palace staff gave us each a room. They were small, but the beds were almost suspiciously comfortable, and we were all right next to each other, close enough for me to keep tabs on everyone with my Wraith Skill.
Still, none of us quite relaxed, and Adam hadn’t stopped jerking suspiciously since we’d passed the city gates. But we didn’t want to cause offense in any of the myriad ways Torliam had warned of. So we accepted their hospitality, and set up a watch schedule, so that someone would always be awake to receive and read any emergency Windows.
I’d fallen asleep under this measure of security, only to jerk upright when the door opened.
Torliam slipped into my room, his body making the huge doorframe look normal. “I have spoken with the queen,” he said in an odd tone.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, placing my bare feet on the floor, and waited for him to continue.
He moved to the other side of the small room, placing his back against the wall
and sliding down till he sat on the ground. “There is no force heading toward Earth,” he said, head bowed.
“What?” My voice was scratchy with sleep.
“Those of my unit who escaped returned to Estreyer about one irimael ago,” he said, using the Estreyan word for their equivalent to a year. “They told my mother of my fate, knowing that I may still be alive. She did not send a force back for me. Neither to enact revenge or to save me. Not even to confirm the news of my death. Political pressures have been building, she says. Other old families are maneuvering for power, and she could not spare even a scout team.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I am her son. But I am not a daughter, and I am not even the oldest. She believed when she allowed me to go that I had been crazed by the death of my sister. I knew that. But I believed she would send for me, when she was able. I spent years within NIX. No one was ever coming to save me.”
I cleared my throat. “You didn’t need her to save you,” I said. “I mean, that sucks. But we escaped all by ourselves. We didn’t need to depend on someone else to fix everything for us.” I wanted to say something comforting, but I didn’t know how. Sentiment was not my strong suit.
He shook his head. “No. I could not escape. I tried. If not for you . . .” He raised his gaze to mine. “My mother will try to use you to her political advantage,” he said, seeming to change his train of thought instantly. “She will want you to bolster her image and strengthen the support of the populace. Fear is a powerful motivator, but it has been turning against her. Hope is even more powerful, and it is the currency you will deal in. Do not bargain cheaply.”
“Tell me more,” I said, leaning forward.
He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. That was okay with me.
I met with the queen in the morning, in what she called her “war chambers.” Maps and electronic diagrams glowed out from the walls, which I couldn't understand the meaning of. The queen stood at the head of a huge marble round table in the center of the room. She turned to me when I entered. “Welcome, Eve of the line of Redding.” She gestured for me to sit across from her, and spoke in Estreyan, which I was gladder than ever I had learned.
I made sure to bow just as Torliam had instructed me. My extended awareness showed me her grimace, which had disappeared by the time I straightened and moved toward the other side of the table. My feet barely touched the ground in the chair sized for Estreyans. “I fear you may have been misinformed,” I said. “I am Eve of the line of Matrix.”
She raised a hand to her mouth, as if embarrassed. “Oh! I apologize. A simple mistake.”
Or a power play. I smiled.
“I must thank you for bringing my son back to me,” she said. “I had believed he was dead and lost to me. It is a horrible thing to lose a child.”
“I could do no less,” I said. “The blood-covenant between us allied your son to me irrevocably.”
“The blood-covenant which he will be severing,” she parried. “Since it was not of his will, and furthermore was spread amongst a whole slew of people.” She waved a hand in disgust.
“Of course,” I said. “That is as it should be. It is not the greatest bond between us now, in any case. Your son has been marked by the Goddess of Testimony and Lore, as I am sure he told you.”
“Indeed. What a joyous revelation. He says that the Oracle has set you on the path of the spark. The God of Knowledge has told you to come back with strength and petition before him for enlightenment about the Sickness that plagues our world?” Her voice was dry, but her eyes glittered with intensity, and her fingers clenched around her staff.
“Yes.” So he had lied to his mother, too.
“The spark was indeed well hidden,” she said with a hint of a smile and more than a dash of irony. She stood then, and walked over to me.
I rose to match her, and she reached forward and undid the bindings on my coat, pulling it away from me and revealing the crystal mark at the base of my neck, and the gifts of the Oracle on my arm and finger. “There should be three, should there not?”
“There are. I have not yet completed the third. I suspect I will not be able to until I have fulfilled the vision of the second.”
She stared down at me. “My son says you may bring hope for my realm.”
I stared back at her, feeling the ripple of her power, so close.
“He is surprisingly wise, for a young man. And a human holds no danger to my throne.” She stared at me as she said it, gauging my reaction.
“I have no intention of undermining your rule, queen,” I said. What was the point in subtlety, for a statement like that? “I have a Quest that may lead to some useful knowledge about how to defeat the Sickness, given to me by the Oracle.” That was a lie. Or at least I hoped it was. The quest from the Oracle could eventually lead to knowledge about defeating the Sickness, but I had no reason to believe it would. What worried me was the acknowledgement of Testimony and Lore, in relation to a story about defeating said Sickness. But I would go along with it, because I refused to die if there was anything at all I could do to save myself. “I also have a crystal mark embedded in my flesh, given by Testimony and Lore. But the thing I really care about is that I have too much of the gods running through my veins for any mortal of my strength to survive, and I think the Oracle may be leading me to a solution. Our goals meet. For now. So, we should help each other.”
If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead, she laughed. “My son told me you were bold. With you as my champion, I could give hope to the people.”
She was laying out the terms of our bargain, I understood. “I would show my support publicly, and you would help me to complete my quest. I will need warriors strong enough to help me defeat a god.”
“Do such warriors exist?! At most, I could provide warriors that might aid you in impressing the god enough to gain a small Bestowal.”
I shook my head. “It is not a small Bestowal that I need. We must prove that we can defeat the undefeatable, force the unconquerable to kneel. Nothing less will do.” I hoped she couldn’t hear my heartbeat, or notice it throbbing in my neck.
She drew back. “And what if you fail? It is I that will have to deal with the backlash for having sent the strongest of my forces to die at the word of a foreign girl.”
I needed this. She had to agree. “I am a godling, progeny to Khaos,” I said, enunciating clearly. And the crystal at my throat pulsed, adding an almost physical weight to my words. It was like a vibration, like the brush of wind against you from standing too close to an explosion, or like the feel of a giant foot smashing into the ground too near to you. For the first time, my Voice Skill had asserted itself actively.
Her eyes widened, and she stepped back, the movement almost a stumble.
“I will have the strongest warriors available,” I said. “It doesn’t have to be a command, you sending men to their deaths. Simply give me your support. Encourage volunteers. Once the hope of your people is proven to be grounded in fact, you will still reap the benefits.”
Queen Mardinest raised an eyebrow. “You are not the first to claim connection to the Oracle or Testimony and Lore. Others have created false hope, many, many times. They have all failed, in the end, and my people have grown mistrustful.”
“They were not me,” I said. “It in my nature to succeed where others fail.”
“We will see.”
The queen and I talked for a little while. She instructed me on the other lines that might either be allies or cause trouble, sounding somewhat like Torliam did when he lectured, except that she insulted me much less than he would have. Even so, her presence radiated more intimidation than his.
I asked about sending relief to the little village on the edge of Knowledge’s domain that had been attacked by monsters. Apparently, Torliam had already handled it the night before. A unit was already headed toward it. I just hoped there was something left to save.
After we finished, I headed to t
he kitchens to sate my growling stomach. A servant caught me on the way, and told me that Torliam had requested my presence after I had finished with the queen. I tried to get the servant to have Torliam just meet me in the kitchens, but she paled at the very idea of such rudeness, so I followed her with a sigh.
His quarters were on the nicer side of the castle, and way bigger than my own. I’m pretty sure he even had multiple rooms. He was pacing across the floor when I entered—which caused the servant to pale a second time and scurry away, presumably so she wouldn’t be caught up in the backlash if he got angry.
Instead, he was awkward. “Now that we are back in my . . . home,” he said, “I will finally be severing the blood-covenants forced upon me.”
I nodded, giving him a small frown. “Okay. What exactly does that mean?”
"I know you do not fully understand the blood-covenant, but on my world, it is a way to bind people to each other. Historically, it would bind a servant to a master, or two life-partners to each other. Often, a wife and her husband will take the blood-covenant."
I raised my eyebrows. "And we have a blood-covenant."
"Yes. Well, partially. A proper bond goes both ways. My blood has been shared, but I have not received a covenant in return. I am bound to you and many, many others." He shuddered. "The covenant allows power to be shared between the two parties, to a certain extent. You and I have been able to sense each other across distances, before, and I always know where any of those with the bond are, if they are on my side of the divide between worlds. When I break the covenant, that, too, will be broken."
"What will happen to the Seeds already within people's bodies?"
"They will remain. You will not lose all your strength. But there will be a period of . . . acclimatization. Probably some loss of whatever strength you were drawing continuously from the bond. It can be disorienting, even painful. And as you humans," he said it without rancor, "are undoubtedly the weaker ones in the bond, in addition to not having shared your own blood you will be affected much more than I. Do you wish to attend the ceremony? There will be healers there, bound to silence about what we do."
