The Age of Light (The Ava'Lonan Herstories Book 1)

by Ako Emanuel

  She had av’tunned down to one of the minor entrances of the Great Laine. Being the least of the lesser Queens in her Yakan’tsu, she was the last to assume her place before the High Queen entered.

  Before the entrance to the Great Laine she bowed her head and folded her arms carefully over her chest, seeking the blessing of the Supreme One before entering the huge hall. A small tum’tyn drum sang in time to her murmured prayer.

  “May all find peace within Your grace,

  May all find joy within Your light.

  Within the Av’ru’s arms embraced.

  We draw our strength from Your own might.

  In Ava’Lona, our blessed land,

  May our Sisterhood endure,

  We stand as one beneath Your hand,

  We stand as one forever more.”

  When the rite was completed the door guard announced her. The gargantuan gold-and ivory-inlaid doors swung open and her palanquin was borne through, her entourage in tow. The lavender and coral lacquered palanquin descended at the end of the last aisle on the western side of the Laine and she was assisted to her feet, the folds of her heavy silk wrap flowing, whispering iridescently about her. She was escorted to her place near the back of the hall to her low Throne. It also was done in her Tribe colors, a mahogany and amethyst and coral affair that sat low to the ground with a high back and a plump satin cushion for a seat. The back and armrests were also padded, which was just as well, for whether this Bolorn was to bear good tidings or bad, she would be have to sit in it for the better part of the turn. There were low tables framing her Throne and backless cushions arrayed around it for her retinue. An oval of plush carpeting covered the whole area.

  Soku sul Doan unfastened her wraps to reveal a gold bustiere and pec’ta loincloth, and settled herself onto her low Throne. Her handmaidens fussed over her mantle, wraps and crown briefly before taking their places on the carpet. She smoothed her pec’ta and arranged herself a little more comfortably on the seat. The tension in the Great Laine was high, thick enough to swim in. The murmur of several hundred conversations seemed to shape the tension into an unseen force, moving it as the wind moves the sea to make waves. Around her sat the Yakan’tsu of Sao, the political party with which she was affiliated by ancestry and locale. Together with the Dago, the Aru, the Dyo and the Sii Yakant’sen, the Sao Yakan’tsu made up the Border’Weste Territory; and with two other Territories, the Middle’Weste, and the Sor’Weste, she and hers made up the Voice of the Weste.

  She was head of the smallest Tribe in her Yakan’tsu. But her Voice did have weight, and could sway her peers, for the honor and oath-claim of the Doan Tribe were unimpeachable, and had been for generations. Her presence caused its own little ripple in the sea of potential. Conversations shifted and new circles of alliances pooled, new concessions were made because of the support she represented. Her presence had a definite effect on the political landscape. And underlying it all was the slow, drowsy beat of tunka baritone drums.

  “Inside, Sister Doan!”

  Soku looked up and to her right, to see the Moyi Queen leaning toward her, stroking a deep red gem. The Moyi was not of the Sao Yakan’tsu. She was affiliated with the Sii’Ya, the sister Yakan’tsu to the Sao’Ya, in size. But the Sii’Ya was under the influence of the Dyo Yakan’tsu at the moment, the Dyo’Ya being the largest of the Border’Weste Yakan’tsen. In effect, a spy or emissary of the Dyo’Ya and a hint of impending intrigue. Being of fairly equal rank, either could speak first without loss of superior aspect. “Peace and light to you, Soku sul Doan. How fare you and yours?”

  “Peace and light, Itil sul Moyi,” she replied, out of courtesy, laying her hand on her own gem of mother of pearl that sat in a shallow recess in the table to her left. The davri gems allowed for easy, private discussion by eliminating the need for either Queen to get up and bridge the gap between place settings. An ancient rite placed upon the Laine disallowed them from av’tunning their thoughts. “My Tribe is well and I am well. How fare you and yours?”

  “Very well, very well indeed.” Itil leaned even closer and the burgundy and pearl gray armrest creaked dangerously under her considerable weight. “What think you of all this, Sister?” she asked, her sharp eyes glittering as they swept over the assemblage of royalty before them. “Any thoughts on why High Queen Audola called such a hasty Bolorn? Really, she only allowed us a ten’turn in which to get here! I did not even have time to assemble a proper wardrobe or bring a sufficient amount of crown keepers!”

  Soku also took in the panorama of Dakua crowns and robes and Tribe colors, all glittering brilliantly and in constant motion, a garden of exotic flowers in an errant breeze.

  “One can only speculate,” Soku said carefully, reluctant to get steered into a verbal dance that might force her to reveal her views on current political issues. The High Queen had no true enemies, but lately there had been talk of a gathering of lesser Tribes in the Dyo Yakan’tsu, and supporting Tribes in the Sii’Ya, that was opposed to the High Queen and her policies for the Weste. Many of the Central Tribes actively supported and condoned the actions of the High Queen, since they owed their status to their proximity to the Ritious City and to being in her favor. These two factions had become almost like Yakan’tsen unto themselves. But Soku wanted part of neither. She chose to stay, like the majority of crowned heads, politically neutral on the issues that they pressed. Hers was a small, well-managed Border Tribe that had enjoyed its peace for hundreds of cycles. She wanted no part of any machinations that might sully the long-standing tradition of oath-claim and honor her Tribe bore. Getting involved in the unspoken rivalry could ruin her political standing, or worse yet, lead to the ruin of her Tribe.

  “Well, I believe that it has to do with the Av’rujo and the current state of the Av’ru. Melae is that the Av’rujo won’t last much longer and that Ava’dan is about to end. Melae says that Turo’dan is upon us.” Itil looked conspiratorial. “That would mean that High Queen Audola would have to ascend and that would leave only her inexperienced daughter to lead us.”

  Soku was shocked at such talk. Such gossip was for idle consorts with too much time on their hands and nothing in their heads, not Queens of Tribes, neither the powerful nor the small - like hers and Itil’s. And she could not help but note the tiniest hint of glee and disdain in the other’s voice. She remembered then why she had no liking for Itil or the Sii’Ya - no subtlety.

  “Perhaps she has called this gathering to ask for our help?” Itil hypothesized, looking for the smallest reaction in her.

  “It is possible,” Soku said in a slightly bored and disinterested tone of voice, hoping to put off Itil and her notions that skirted the far edge of treachery. Soku really wished to talk with Zydoba sul Asanti on her other side, a sister Saon.

  Itil looked at her hard and the armrest creaked. Soku hoped that it did not break. It would be most embarrassing to have one of the Queens fall flat on her face right at the start of the Bolorn. It would also be a mortal insult to the Moyi, the Sii’Ya and the Weste - and it looked very close to happening as the other put her full weight on the armrest. The thing was av’rita reinforced, but even then it could only bear so much.

  Soku suppressed a smile at the image the thought invoked, fanning herself to cover it, amused despite the seriousness of the consequences.

  “We Western Border Queens should stick together,” Itil said, a strange, hard note in her voice. She leaned back, much to Soku’s and the armrest’s relief. “We may not be important to Ava’Lona now, but if the Av’ru should ever fall - why, we’re Ava’Lona’s first line of defense in the Weste! I think we would all do well to bear that in mind.” She waved for fruit. “Light and peace, Sister.”

  Soku did not get a chance to reply, for just then the Hall darkened and the drums deepened, quickened. But Itil’s words struck an ominous chord.

  We Border Queens should stick together? What does that mean? Soku gave the slightest of head shakes, then pushed the concern to the back of her
mind and turned her attention to the front of the Hall. She would consider their little exchange later.

  A shaft of light cut through the darkness to strike right between Soku and Zydoba, a spear thrown from the hand of Av. It became like a scythe as the tukni drums rose in volume, and both the sound and the light seemed to cleave a path along the wide, shallow tiers that held the Queens. They hung in the air like the Tru’Av’ru itself, bisecting the Hall in two equal parts.

  The highest of the Greater Queens sat on the lowest level of the step tiers. They were first to raise their voices to the ancient ceremonial greeting, spreading their arms in welcome. These were the Central Territory Queens, their importance stemming from the size of their lons and Tribes, the extent of their Trade, their proximity to the Ritious City, and the power of their Queens. With the rising chorus of drums and golden shak’shaks they sang welcome to the Supreme One, that to which all life was bound and which brought order to the universe.

  “Shalgo Imantu Solu, Creator of All

  Shining in Av’s warmth, residing in Av’s Hall

  Bequeath to us your light, we your Daughters call.”

  The second tier held the remaining Greater Queens and the first among the Lesser Queens. These were the Middle Territory Queens, from the Norae, Este and Weste. Their lons were smaller and their Trade less wide-spread. They raised their voices in harmony to accompanying jadine flutes, spread their arms to welcome the five Greater and seven Lesser Deities, the link between the Supreme One and wuman.

  “Goddesses we call, above us you stand

  Grant us wisdom in Av’s land

  Hold us united, in heart and hand.”

  The last of the Lesser Queens that sat upon the third and highest tier added their voices and welcome with the rise of silver conch shells, saluting the Ancestors, the Av’rujo, the High Queen and the Heir. These Queens, including Soku, were farthest from the Ritious City, tiny lons huddled near and against the Border. The Outermost Territories had the least direct Trade with other regions. Their trade required the use of middle-Trade’Marms who traded and won concession for the Lesser Queens when they were not in the Ritious City. Because of this intermediary the Lesser Queens did not rise far in the Trade Circles that was the heart of Ava’Lona’s economy and politics.

  “Ancestors before us, from the dawn of time

  Mother to Daughter pass on, in unbroken line

  Av’rujo to Av’One to Av’Daun, reign ever sublime.”

  When they sang the High Queen’s name the gigantic doors at the head of the Hall cracked open, a greeting rhythm singing out from the tukni. Light like the dawn poured through the opening, and in its center stood the High Queen. She seemed a thing born of Av as she stepped forth in her mantle of gold. She stood directly above her High Throne, adding voice to the great harmony of welcome.

  “Av’s light bless us, In Solu’s name

  Av’s warmth hold us, In Solu’s name

  Av’s dawn guide us, In Solu’s name

  Ashe!”

  She began to glow in the blinding light. Each Queen put a bit of their av’rita into their voices and flung it to her, and she in turn channeled the song of life to the Av’rujo. The Av’rujo gathered this song and sent it to Av, weaving the Rite of Solu. The light of Av, the physical embodiment of Solu, answered and the Av’rujo sent it back with her own song of love and welcome. The Laine glowed and each Queen sparkled like a star in the light with her own aura as each partook of that love.

  The light in the Hall, like a silken curtain dropped, collapsed back toward the Throne. It began to weave a golden stair at the High Queen’s feet, a path she would traverse to stand before her Throne. It was a representation of the love and unity and faith of the People upon which the power of the High Queen rested. The ritual dated all the way back to the First High Queen, Inzebau, and the legendary Battle of Rites that she fought with her sister, Insofaya. Never in all the fifty-five generations of High Queens had the stair ever faltered.

  The drums and instruments quieted as the High Queen descended the first stair. The Greater Queens on the first tier rose to their feet and raised their arms up to the High Queen. She moved to the second step and the Queens on the next tier followed suit. The third tier of Queens rose as her foot touched the third stair and the mantle bearers rushed forward down either side of the Throne to spread the royal mantle neatly about the seat of gold, sapphire and jadine. On the final note she stepped down to stand in front of her Throne. Her Voices and Go’Orisha, the High Priestesses of the Twelve Deities, filed down on either side to the curved panel of seats that looked out over the assemblage of Queens. The royal twins moved two levels down from their mother to take their positions before their seats. The High Consort, had there been one, would have sat slightly above them. And conspicuous by her absence was the Heir.

  The High Queen Audola stepped forward, resplendent in her gold, royal blue and purple, and let her gaze sweep over the assemblage. The entire wuman Realm was represented in this one lain. The Av’Touched were absent - the Av’ru was a wuman construct, and they had no claim or dealings with it.

  “Peace and light upon you all,” she said in her strong, clear voice. The accompaniment was silenced.

  “And upon you, Mother Queen,” all replied into the still ringing air.

  “Let us offer thanks and praise to our foremothers and their foremothers,” she said, raising hands and eyes to the crystalline skylight, to the heavens.

  “We offer thanks and we sing our praise,” came the chorus.

  “Let us offer prayer and reverence to the five Greater and seven Lesser Deities.”

  “We offer prayer and we sing our reverence,

  Ya’kano, Goddess of Light, Rite, and Rita, Daughter of Av;

  Ak’suya, Goddess of Motherhood, Fertility and Patience;

  De’enu, God of Hunt, Harvest, and Abundance;

  Ag’ko, Goddess of Peace and Wisdom;

  Ans’ra, Beloved, God of Death, Life renewed and the Seasons.

  “We offer prayer and we sing our reverence,

  If’la, Goddess of Herstory and Science;

  Is’kala, Goddess of the Arts and Inspiration;

  Mon’da, Goddess of Puberty and Youth;

  Af’eno, Goddess of Fortune and Politics;

  Ak’ana, Goddess of Weather, and Storms;

  Kuf’yo, God of the Av’Touched Ones and patron of Higher Thought;

  Ka’bi, God of Nature, Mercy and the Son of Ans’ra.”

  “Let us offer love and worship to the Supreme One,” the High Queen intoned.

  “We offer love and we sing our worship, Shalgo Imantu Solu.”

  “Let the light of Solu shine upon us always, ashe.”

  “Ashe!”

  The light within the Hall slowly faded to normal and the stair of light vanished. The two Throne guards stepped forward to take the High Queen’s hands and guide her back slowly to her High Throne. She turned her palms down and lowered her arms a measured distance, then turned her palms up and spread her arms wider, simultaneously assuming her Throne in one graceful motion. A single tum’tyn began to beat in simple cadence.

  Her sons sat two drum beats after she did, and the Voices a beat after that, and so down the stepped dais and up the tiers the motion went so that it seemed to be a ripple effect generated from the nexus of the High Queen.

  When the last row of the Queens was seated the High Queen again stood. Now would be determined whether the purpose for this Bolorn is a joyous or grievous occasion, Soku mused. But by the haste of the Bolorn’s assemblage, she doubted that it was any kind of good news. The tum’tyn then, too, fell silent.

  The High Queen let the silence drag out, did not raise her arms. Even the drums stayed stilled, and the gravity of that unspoken gesture began to weigh heavily upon the Laine. The vast room became utterly still. In the absolute silence she scanned the faces, her eyes seeming to touch each of them.

  “My daughters, the peace is gone from my heart and the light h
as left my eyes in darkness.” Her voice reverberated off the walls and the huge, hollow tusks that formed the support structure of the Laine.

  “We grieve with you, Mother Queen,” the assemblage murmured in answer.

  “I have called for this gathering because I have terrible tidings to bear.” The weight of her eyes held all enthralled.

  “Lyadni, who was High Queen before me and had, by the grace of the Supreme One, ascended to Av’rujo, is near the end of her life. The light of the Av’ru is being taken faster than her life force can replenish it.”

  A low collective gasp rocked the Laine and conversation broke out all over. This was worse than anyone had expected. Several voices raised questions of Turo’dan, the prophecy declared by the Mad God Kwabana. He had been brought down and cloven in half with the appearance of the Tru’Av’ru, the wall of energy that had divided the world at the advent of Ava’dan.

  Over the millennia that Alona had been divided, it had been reported that the half godling, who had built himself another half from bits of plants and animals, had prophesied this doom. He augured that when the Av’ru began to die faster than it could be reborn, this would be the Sign, Turo’dan, that the end of Ava’Lona and Ava’dan would be at hand. Then that which was torn asunder would once again be whole:

  When dies the light from farthest dawn

  A thing of Loro shall be born;

  When cold the hottest jungles grow

  A thing of Dio shall all know.

  And when the skies are deepest green

  A thing of Chia shall be seen.

  And when Light’s Reign is all undone,

  The World in twain shall become one.

  As mention of the Sign spread, conversation became more agitated and fever-pitched until finally one of the Greater Queens on the second tier stood and spread her arms.