Raybearer

by Jordan Ifueko

  “No man escapes old age,” warned the ehru. “But for every heart moved by your Ray, one facet of death’s blade may not touch you. Your heirs shall be even more powerful, for they shall possess one immunity at birth. Take this Ray, and give the other to your sister and equal, for no being was made to rule alone.”

  But Enoba, seeing the nations his spear had won, said, “I have no equal,” and devoured both Rays himself.

  Melu’s savannah vanished, and again, time whirled past me in a blur of color: forests razed, villages born, cities rising, rulers crowned.

  Enoba’s rule was long, and soon peaceful. His Ray caused him to outlive Wuraola, and though he mourned her, his pride scrubbed her story from the earth.

  Under the Treaty, monsters from the Underworld disappeared from the continent. Redemptor children were born in every realm. But after years of parents wailing in the streets, weeping as their children were taken from them, the Arit people began to resent their emperor.

  “Why should we sacrifice our children for peace,” the Arit people began to rumble, “when the emperor need not sacrifice his own?” For Enoba had made the abiku promise that Oluwani children would never be born as Redemptors.

  Enoba feared a rebellion. Hoping to mollify his subjects, he returned to the ehru and demanded his last wish: a way to ensure that only children from Songland, and never children from Aritsar, would be selected as Redemptors. Reluctantly, the ehru bestowed a new power on Enoba’s Ray: the ability to make a sacred council, and unite eleven souls to his own.

  The Treaty, the ehru explained, was sealed by blood—one drop from every ruler. He compared it to drawing straws in a game: So long as the blood was equal, no realm drew the short straw. The Redemptor curse favored no realm; all sacrificed equally. But now that Enoba had united eleven souls to his own, his blood held the power of twelve realms. He had added, so to speak, longer straws to the game. When the continent gathered again to renew the Treaty, Enoba’s blood supplemented the power of the twelve Arit rulers, stacking the odds against Songland. Ever after, no Redemptors were born in Aritsar.

  Suspecting foul play, the Songlanders rebelled, refusing at first to give up their children. But the abiku retaliated, ravaging the land with monsters and plagues until, with rage and grief, Songland submitted. The children were sent—three hundred each year.

  Enoba’s secret died with him. But every one hundred years, his curse on Songland is restored at the Treaty Renewal, when Enoba’s descendants spill their blood into Enoba’s shield.

  Now the voice showed me another scene: not the past, but a premonition. I saw the Imperial Hall, lavishly decorated for the renewal ceremony. I saw Enoba’s shield being carried up to the dais. I saw Dayo in emperor’s regalia, wearing his dead father’s sun crown, and surrounded by a semicircle of rulers. I felt Woo In’s haunted gaze, heard Ye Eun’s screaming parents, and saw thousands of children thrown into a cold, yawning pit from which they would never return—as Dayo leaned over the shield, slit his hand, and let his blood fall.

  “No,” I screamed. “No!”

  What story do you live for, Heir of Wuraola?

  Then the scene faded to white.

  Woo In’s face came into focus, inches above mine. “You’re awake,” he sighed, shoulders sagging. “You were barely breathing. I feared . . .”

  He trailed off, helping me sit up, and his hands felt hot against my clammy skin. My vision was uneven, as though part of me still floated above my body. The glyphs had disappeared from my skin, returning to the wall. But nothing looked quite the same—least of all Woo In, whose geometrically patterned features filled me with fresh horror.

  “You’re cursed,” I croaked. “You, Ye Eun, the Redemptors—the Kunleos cursed all of you.”

  Woo In grew still as death. “I knew it,” he whispered. The world spun as he helped me up. “You can tell me more when we get back to the refuge. Let’s go—the mountain is draining our energy. Try not to nod off. If you sleep while we’re still in range of the cave, it will be hard to wake up.”

  We returned to the house in the Redemptor village, collapsing on the heated schoolroom floor. After Ye Eun restored our strength with steamed fish and broth, I told Woo In everything. His back grew more rigid with every word, and when I finished he rasped, “She knew.” He was white with fever, tears of rage pooling. “The whole time,” he yelled, “The Lady knew that the Treaty would curse Songland, and she was still going to renew it.”

  Children scattered from the schoolroom in fright. I pressed a damp cloth to Woo In’s brow, and then to my own, remembering lines from my mother’s journal. I will pay the price of peace, as my ancestors have before me.

  I frowned in disbelief, then sat up straight. “Wait. Maybe Mother was trying to right the scale. She anointed you, didn’t she? The Storyteller’s memory described the Treaty Renewal like drawing straws, a game unequally weighted against Songland. But thanks to you, Mother’s blood represents Songland as well as Aritsar. If her blood fell in Enoba’s shield, the Treaty Renewal would be fair again. Redemptors would be born all over the continent, just like before.”

  Woo In considered, then shook his head slowly. “She never meant to anoint me,” he whispered. “And once she did, she tried her hardest to erase my blood from her veins.”

  I bit my lip, then reached out to cup Woo In’s cheek. “May I?” He nodded, and I tumbled into a memory of freshly fallen snow.

  I am ten years old, and I have survived the Underworld.

  I pace at the mouth of Sagimsan’s holy cave, shivering, and smiling at the thought of her. Hyung’s meaty breath toasts the top of my head, and its whiskers tickle my brow. My best friend—my only friend—growls, nipping my hair with disapproval.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I laugh. “I trust her, OK? Once she reads what’s in there, she’ll know how to help us. There will be no more Redemptors. No more kids like me.”

  Hyung only sighs, making fog in the frigid air. My head snaps up: footsteps echo from the cave. When The Lady appears, I rush to her side. She smells metallic, drenched in the energy of Sagimsan. For a moment, she stands erect in her fur-lined red cloak, majestic as the moment I first saw her. Then she sways on her feet; the Storyteller’s memory has sapped her strength. Before she stumbles, I offer my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” she says, smiling with genuine warmth. “You saved me.”

  “Well, you saved me first,” I reply, and she laughs, ruffling my hair.

  “Yes, dearest, I suppose I did.”

  When I had first returned from the Underworld, I thought my life would grow wings, soaring like the cranes above the Gyeoljeong Sea. I thought I was free: no longer a walking sacrifice, instilling guilt and sorrow in all who saw me.

  Instead, whispers of hell-boy had peppered the palace at Eunsan-do. Nursemaids stripped me naked each morning, scouring my birthmarks with salt and ice water. Nobles baited Hyung with swords and sticks, trying to drive the emi-ehran from the palace, and my relatives spat to ward off evil whenever I passed. Min Ja, my fierce sister, tried her hardest to protect me. But only Mother could put a stop to the bullying . . . and she did nothing but cry.

  You smell of death, my baby boy, she sobbed. My poor dead baby.

  But I’m not dead, I reminded her. I’m alive. I came back. But she only cried more, and I knew the truth then: Deep down, my mother wished that I had never returned.

  My whole life, she had prepared for my death. It was her way of coping, bracing for her inevitable loss. But instead of a sacrificed angel, I had saddled her with a live, cursed son.

  Well, I would saddle her no more. The next morning I had packed a meager camp and ridden off with Hyung to Sagimsan. If it weren’t for my emi-ehran, I would have frozen to death within a month.

  Then an angel climbed the mountain ridge, snowflakes winking in her floating black hair. She called my name in a voice like music. When she found evidence of my camp, she unloaded her pack and started a cook fire. The mouthwatering smell
of sweet fish and spicy noodles coaxed me from my hiding place—my food stores had long run out.

  The angel nursed me back to health, wrapping me in panther blankets and spoon-feeding me stew.

  “Who are you?” I croaked.

  “A friend,” she said, brushing the wind-whipped hair from my forehead. Her dark fingers were warm, as though she had brought the sun with her from Aritsar. “You may call me The Lady.”

  “You’re a foreigner. You’re the reason it stormed in Jinhwa Pass all week.”

  “I’m afraid I am. Queen Hye Sun would not invite me to her realm, no matter how many letters I sent.” She frowned, pulling her crimson cloak closer around her. “Luckily, I wasn’t trying to go all the way to Songland. I only wanted to find you.”

  “Why?”

  “Tales reached the Arit border of a lost Redemptor prince, vanished into Sagimsan. Queen Hye Sun is worried sick.”

  I snorted. “I doubt it. She wishes I was dead.” I explained about my treatment at the palace. The Lady’s face, suddenly vulnerable, softened as she listened. Anger lined her elegant features.

  “I know how cruel a palace can be to children,” she whispered, taking my hands and squeezing them. “Especially to a child it fears.”

  “I wouldn’t mind the nobles. But Mother . . .”

  “I understand, Woo In. My father didn’t want me either.”

  For several moments we sat in silence, hands clasped, watching snowflakes drift into the fire.

  “You’re a lovely boy, you know,” she said. “Queen Hye Sun doesn’t deserve you, and she knows it. I’ve heard rumors that she’s tortured with guilt. If you went back now,” The Lady said thoughtfully, “she would give you whatever you wanted.”

  “I don’t want anything from her.”

  “Ah,” breathed The Lady, avoiding my gaze, “but I do. I want to keep children like you safe. And if you convince your mother to let me borrow her army for just a little while, I can make sure that no Songland child enters the Breach ever again.”

  My pulse quickened. “How?”

  “That’s where you come in, my dear. Somewhere on this mountain, there’s a cave with a very special secret. I’m told only a few Songlanders can find it: the highest shamans and the royal family.”

  I gulped. Of course I knew how to find Sagimsan’s holy cave. Every year, my family visited on a pilgrimage to leave offerings at the opening and pray for Songland’s prosperity. No one was supposed to go inside, but I had once stolen into the tunnel, mad with curiosity. I found a room with glowing gibberish on one wall. Then I fainted, lungs floundering in the blue pressurized air. Eventually shamans came to rescue me, and I was barely conscious for two days.

  “I can’t tell you where it is,” I said, drooping. “I’m only allowed to tell family.”

  “Not allowed by who? The bullies in Eunsan-do who called you names?” She let me ruminate on this before adding, “Besides, I can be family, dear. If you will have me.”

  And as I lay my head on her soft chest, she told the most beautiful story I had ever heard. There was a band of anointed children, outcasts just like me. They had raised each other, grown together, traveled the world sharing one mind. Their love was so strong, separation caused illness, and even death.

  “Where are they now?” I asked in awe.

  “Waiting at the Arit border.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  “Yes, though council sickness does not affect the Raybearer. I could not bring them into the pass; the storm was bad enough with one foreigner. I have three Anointed Ones, and several more hopefuls.” She smiled. “Someday, we will be twelve.” The Lady could anoint me too, she explained. In her family, I would never be hell-boy or sacrifice. I would only ever be Woo In: liberator of the Redemptors.

  I led her to the cave the very next day.

  “Did you learn what you needed?” I ask her eagerly now, my arms wrapped around her waist as we ride Hyung back to camp. “Can you free the Redemptors? Will you anoint me now?”

  “I . . .” She rubs her temples. “I learned a lot of things. Let me be, Woo In. I need to think.”

  I ask her again the next morning, as The Lady retrieves a hare from one of her traps, absently snaps its neck, and cleans it to roast over our fire. “Are you done thinking, Lady?”

  After a pause, she says, “You don’t really want to be anointed, Woo In. It’s for life, you know, and a lot of work, not to mention the council sickness. Why don’t you join me as . . .” She thinks quickly. “. . . as an honorary member? It’ll be just the same.”

  “It won’t,” I say, frowning. “I won’t have the Ray.”

  The Lady laughs. “We don’t need the Ray to love each other, child. Tell you what. Why don’t you get bundled up and go back to Eunsan-do? I’ll wait right here, and you can convince Queen Hye Sun to see me. Then I’ll come to the palace and fetch you. We’ll go away together, forever.” She cleans her bloodstained hands in the snow, then comes to draw her cloak around me, murmuring into my hair. “Once the queen lends me her army, I’ll need a handsome young prince to help me lead it. Just imagine—”

  “You don’t want me.” To my embarrassment, my lower lip starts to tremble. “You’re afraid to keep me with you. Just like Mother.”

  The Lady kneels to my level and grips my shoulders. “I am nothing like Queen Hye Sun,” she whispers. She fixes me with those vivid black eyes, though for a moment she speaks to herself. “I would never disown a child out of fear. I’m not like Father or Olugbade. I’m better. I’m different.”

  “Then anoint me.”

  She stiffens, then brightens. “I can’t. Not yet, anyway. You have to love me first, remember?”

  “That’s all right then,” I say. “Because I do.”

  Her breath catches as she stares, features shading with wonder and grief. “Am’s Story. You mean it, don’t you?” I nod and she laughs bitterly, kissing my forehead. “No wonder the Kunleos have always anointed children. Love is so uncomplicated at your age.”

  She stands and paces for several minutes, avoiding Hyung where the beast sits nearby, cleaning its paws and baring its teeth at her. Then she stops, murmuring to the air.

  “Isoken blood would balance it. Several strains from different realms . . . It’s a risk, but it could work. There’s still room on my council. I need only find the right ones. Yes . . . it’s worth a try.”

  She draws a vial out from under her cloak, and it swings from a chain on her neck. Her full lips harden with resolution, then blossom into a sweet smile as she turns to me.

  “Come, child.” I run into her outstretched arms, and she wets my brow with oil as her Ray engulfs me. I wince as she draws a knife and slashes her palm, then mine, letting our blood run together. Then her words drip into my ear like beeswax, deafening and sweet. “Receive your anointing.”

  CHAPTER 33

  When I detached from woo in’s mind, I shivered, shaking off the phantom of my mother’s embrace.

  “For all her efforts, The Lady never did get Songland’s army,” Woo In murmured, smiling ruefully at the schoolroom floor. “I tried to convince Mother for years, but Min Ja always managed to talk her out of it.” He chuckled. “Out of the two of us, my sister always had the brains. She tried to warn me about The Lady, but I wouldn’t listen. So Min Ja washed her hands of me. I don’t blame her.”

  After a tense moment I asked, “Kathleen isn’t the only isoken on Mother’s council, is she?”

  “Of course not. They’re all isokens, all except for me and the first three.”

  “So by strengthening her own blood—by representing Arit realms multiple times through mixed-race council members—”

  “The Lady hoped to cancel out my blood, stacking the dice against Songland again. That’s why she still hadn’t anointed her last member. She had to find the perfect blend of isoken.”

  I shuddered. “It’s so callous. Like choosing breeds at a market.” My head spun in confusion. “And wouldn’t isoken blood
be weaker? A pure-blood council member represents their realm fully, whereas an isoken represents each realm by half—”

  “Or their blood represents each realm fully. No one knows for sure how the magic of Enoba’s shield works. But The Lady had to try. She knew Arits would rebel if their children were born as Redemptors. She would never have risked losing her throne.”

  A lump grew in my throat, so large I couldn’t swallow. My mother was dead, and I didn’t even know what to feel. Should I cry for the Kunleo princess, a child disowned by her father, exiled by her brother, and abused by the world? Or should I curse The Lady, a tactician who would willingly kill thousands of innocents? Perhaps it was wrong to choose. In any case, I had run out of time for tears.

  “I can stop it,” I said, gripping Woo In’s arm. “The Treaty Renewal isn’t until tomorrow at sunset. Take me back. I can stop Dayo.”

  His face brightened, and then dimmed to gray. “I’m too weak to fly,” he said. “The arrow wound is bad enough, but my body is weakened, still adjusting to the loss of the Ray. I’d never make it to Oluwan. You could ride Hyung. But the only way to reach An-Ileyoba in time . . .” He broke off, glanced at the map on the wall, and avoided my gaze.

  On the map, I counted the eleven realms between Sagimsan Mountain and Oluwan. The world around me grew cold.

  The only way to reach An-Ileyoba by sunset tomorrow was to ride through twenty-six lodestones.

  After four crossings, my body would begin to disintegrate. If I was lucky, my lungs would start failing at ten. A man had once been known to survive fifteen, but had spent the rest of his life deformed and bedridden.

  But twenty-six?

  I would die within minutes of reaching Dayo. And that’s if I made it to Oluwan.

  “It’s over,” said Woo In. “At least, for these Redemptor children. Ae Ri. Jaesung, Cheul, and the rest. Maybe in a hundred years, Dayo’s descendants will end the Treaty. Until then . . .” He smiled tightly. “At least we know who to blame for our nightmares.”