by Lloyd Baron
“Derry’n,” Tak’arshi begins but then he stops. His logical mind screams at him to continue, to tell the boy not to be so foolish, but he cannot. He looks at the sad faces all around him and hears himself tell Derry’n to hurry.
“Hold on,” Derry’n says as he jumps into the air. He seems to land for a brief moment on a glass pane above their heads before jumping again and again until he reaches the roof. He drops the healer down and moves over to Tarfleam. The two men embrace. Sparkly white light pours from the rooftop.
Darwin’t stares up at the sky for what seems like hours. He does not move, apart from his hand stroking Canace’s hair. The light fades and the healer stands.
The bearded man turns sad eyes upon the group.
37
PASSING the TORCH
The first shift in the balance had been slight. The second had made Ori sit up painfully in his bed and look towards the west. The third had knocked the air from his lungs, and the last had forced him to use the legs he has been off for weeks to move over to the window.
Ori sits in his chair now, staring out over the sea into the distant mountains. His time in Atlantia is coming to an end but the beginning of the Prophecy trying to reach him is forcing him to live on for another day. His mind is in two places. He tries to search the mountains for signs of black magic, a rupture of the Mana Fold or the use of forbidden arts to identify answers about the shift.
He has felt none, and so with the other part of his mind he searches for the use of summons magic. He locates it almost at once slightly further north then he thought it would be, but there is no mistaking it. The Light has been used and it would seem that they have won this day.
He smiles to himself. They are so close to him and his guidance; his suns of studying the Books of Prophecy will not be wasted. However, the wait is killing him, literally, and he needs to speed things up a bit. The Angel’s always said they would not fight in the next war of this world, but they did not say anything about becoming involved in other ways.
He pushes himself to his feet and groans with the effort and the pain from his protesting joints. He had never thought about being old until it had happened to him. Now he can think of little else in his days. Each movement hurts and each day he sleeps more and is aware of less. It is his mind he worries about the most, it contains too much important information, and he is becoming so forgetful of late.
The door to his room opens and Onoui enters with a tray of food and a pitcher of juice. She sees him struggling over by the window and mutters an angry curse under her breath before placing the tray down and hurrying over to her husband. “Why are you walking around unattended, again?” she asks in a cutting tone.
Ori gives her an impish grin but does not reply to the question. He indicates that he wants to leave the room, and after a pause in which his wife rolls her eyes a few times, she takes him by the arm and leads him from the room.
The sun is startling and burns into his eyes. He closes them tightly while still enjoying the feeling of the warmth on his skin. It has been too many days since he has left the room and entered the city. He has not attended any of the meetings, and the Village Council has appointed a new head speaker. That news had hurt him deep inside, though he understood the need to do so. These were hard times for the world, and even the small problems within the lower village needed to be dealt with.
Onoui leads him over to the lift and settles him into the seat. This amazing invention had been Hisa’s idea. After his father had become ill and not able to use the stairs and ramps of the city he had begun thinking of ways to help the old Angel. He created this lift; a platform fitted with a seat and railings, all made from branches of the tree like all of their structures. Thick vines were tied to the four corners of the lift which could be lowered by hand to lower levels. It had been a good idea but needed four just to lower one person down.
That is where his son’s intelligence had really come into play. He created a system of pumps which could move steam from one chamber to another. This in turn began moving a large wheel. He attached the vines to this wheel and with enough pressure built up could move the lift up and down.
Ori holds on as his wife begins to turn the crank to build up the pressure. He can hear the steam gushing through the pipes and into the great wheel. The seat judders and begins its slow decent. Onoui hops on quickly and her added weight speeds them up slightly.
“I do hate it when you do that,” he grumbles. “It always feels like this death trap is about to fall. I don’t see why you can’t just fly.”
His wife kisses his brow as an answer and turns to survey the city as they descend through the many branches of the tree. Dazzling light beams through the thick canopy and into the streets. These are not like the roads of other cities or towns. They are made of twisted branches layered with a type of sap to make them solid and smooth. The walkways between the main branches of the tree are thinner bridges built from beams, but even these are still wide enough for four abreast.
A man catches her eye as they lower through the east village and she waves a hand. The elderly Angel hurries towards the lift and drops to his knee. He holds his hands out and offers her a block of cheese.
“Thank you Ha’l; this is most kind of you. It is Ori's favorite.” She reaches across the drop and takes the cheese. It’s strong smell making her sway.
Ori gets a whiff and opens his eyes wide. He stares at the man who lowers his eyes as a mark of respect. “You honor me with such a gift, Ha’l. I will be eating this as part of my supper.” The lift lowers below the walkway but he can still see the man kneeling. “Ask Wev to bring me some of his wife’s crackers would you, kind man?”
Onoui pats the top of his head with the palm of her hand and chuckles to herself. Now that his eyes have become adjusted to the light he keeps them open.
They descend into the main city and the brilliance of it overwhelms him. He grasps hold of his wife’s hand and holds it firmly. How many more times will he see his beloved city before his death? It is a thought that he has every time he sees anything he will miss. His wife, his children, the city, and most of all Molly. She is such a big part of the Prophecy, but as yet still does not know her importance. She will find out this day.
The platform judders and then stops at the base level. With a helping hand he gets to his feet and makes his way slowly over to the Council seat. Sitting there today is Uestot, a grand Kionit, teacher of healing. The man sees him approach and jumps from the seat to help. Once he has settled Ori down he returns to the Council seat and begins sorting through a pile of papers.
“I have here the report of the search of the mountains you asked for. I have had it edited and readied for your reading.” He moves a few sheets and then grasps hold of the corner of a bound folder. “Here it is.”
Ori reaches over the desk and takes the file. It would make good reading but not for today. He steadies himself before continuing on with his thoughts. He has to handle this right. Uestot is a good man but he is also a man of unyielding principles. If he does not approach the matter of offering help to the ones in the west fighting for the world carefully, then this man will not give permission to help. The fact that Ori is the Kuhk’iti’iwo of Gossa-Mesa carries only slight weight. Even he has to go through the Council.
“Thank you for this,” he says as he hands the document to his wife. “I will read it as soon as I have a chance. How have you been, Uestot? It has been a while since we last saw one another.”
The thin and stern looking Angel lowers his eyes for a moment before looking back up, defiance burning in them. He smiles suddenly and reaches across the desk to pat Ori’s shoulder. “You are still as crafty as ever, old man. When you feel the need to come out and ask me what it is you really want, then feel free. I am not going anywhere.” He turns his smile then on Onoui. “How have you been, sister? You look tired.”
“Thank you. I can count on you as always to say the right things. You never change, always thinking too m
uch about city business to worry with pleasant words for your sister.”
Uestot barks a sudden laugh and stands to embrace Onoui. “I am sorry, sister. I did not mean to imply you look unfit for the public to view. You are still radiant, but a brother can see the lack of sleep in his older sibling.”
Onoui nods once but remains silent, sulky.
Ori marvels at them. They are both hundreds of suns old and still they act like children in each other’s company. His wife is headstrong and fiery, so seeing her sulk because of a slight joke from her brother is a surprise.
“I need something, yes. It is a big something.” He straightens himself in the seat and looks Uestot in the eyes. “I need twenty to fly north-west to the shrine in Hillsbough. I need the people there brought here so that I can speak to them. They are very important, and I do not have much time remaining in this world.” He sees his wife’s brother wince at the last comment and he drops his head.
“You know that is out of the question. We cannot be seen to take sides in a war, Ori. I cannot condone the use of men in this way.” He slips a piece of parchment across the table and looks back up. His eyes sparkle with mischief. “But as you said, you do not have much time left and Onoui has filled me in on what is happening out there. Take this; it is my letter of approval. You will have an hour to set the wheels in motion before I declare it to be stolen from my desk.”
Ori could cry. This man is breaking every rule to assist them. If he was found out then he could lose his place on the Council. “Thank you. I will not let on to anyone.”
“Make sure you do not. And Ori,” he stands and holds out his hand. “good luck.”
Ori stares at the men he has sent to collect the ones he has waited all his life to meet with a mix of awe and fear. He has lived many long suns researching the Prophecy, charting the balance of the world and preparing for the day when they would arrive and change everything.
Now that the time has come he is not ready. He wants more time to prepare the Angels for the part they will play, and his son on his own personal mission. Mostly he desires time to sit with Molly and explain everything that is going on with her and the crazy world outside of the city.
He has grown to love the child like one of his own. She has shown herself to be intelligent and wise for someone so young. Unlike her stepbrother who is headstrong and belligerent. The black feathers which appeared within his wings have stopped growing, but they are a concern. No Angel has ever had black feathers before and none of his books speak of or give clues to their meaning.
O’us has been distant since his return from the mountains. He informed his father that he assisted the Princess of the Goblin race across the last few miles into the caves leading to the Dark Clan city. He said no more on the subject, but Ori could tell that there was something being missed out. He saw the first black feather a few days later, and his son had no choice but to confess to what he had done. Not only about killing the dragon but smuggling the Goblin Princess into the city where she still dwells.
Ori had to admit that the tale had shocked him deeply. No Angel has used magic to harm a living creature for many hundreds of suns. The thought that his son had not only defended the Princess but used extreme amounts of magic to kill the beast was too much to bear. He had sent O’us away so that he could think about what he should do. As High Priest it was his duty to condemn anyone who broke the rules in such a way. The punishment should have been exile to the Angels in the north, away from the Great Tree to live in the swamp. He just could not do this to his son.
The men become tiny specks in the distance and he looks away from them and towards the child sleeping in his large bed. She frowns in her sleep. He wonders what she is dreaming about. He watches her for a few moments before hobbling over to sit in the great chair beside the bed. “No time for sleeping,” he whispers as he strokes her cheek. “Molly, my dear child, it is time to wake up. We have much to talk about.”
The girl scrunches up her face with concern and then relaxes back into peacefulness. Her eyes flutter and then open. She turns her face towards Ori and she beams a smile at him. “Father,” she says excitedly. “I dreamt that you were gone. I thought... I thought... It does not matter now. It was just a dream.”
“You called me ‘Father’,” As a smile touches Ori’s tired old features, he says “You have not done that for such a long time.”
Her smile fades in an instant and she sits up sharply, her arms reaching out and dragging him close to her. His back protests but he pushes the pain away and lets her hold him. “You look so old. You do not have much time left, do you?” Tears well up in her eyes but she sniffs them back.
The old Angel nods his head sadly. “There is something we need to talk about. Well, a few things.”
“I know it all. That I am the daughter of the Sorceress and that I alone can stop her. That there are people coming who will take me away from you and others who will protect me. I know I have to die to save the world.” She pauses and stares at him with sad eyes. She reaches out a hand and touches his cheek. “Thank you for keeping me safe all these suns. For letting me be a child and not telling me about this until now. I have had a good life father, here with you and mother and O’us. Even Hisa has not been too bad.”
“How do you know all this?” he asks stunned. He has been so careful not to discuss such things in front of her, even though she has been sleeping.
“A dog told me in my dream. He told me that my power is to use other people’s powers. That I can take them whenever I need. I have been dreaming the dreams of a boy named Darwin’t. I can see and hear the voices of animals though the mind of a kind man called Derry’n. I have made myself warm in the night because of Danlynn and I have not weakened because of Riochald.” She glances over at a vase of flowers beside the bed. They are freshly picked and glowing a bright yellow. “When were they put beside me?”
Ori looks up at the flowers and frowns. “They have been there for days, weeks even. I had not noticed that they have yet to wilt. You did that?”
“Yes. Tarfleam can make plants grow. It is a beautiful gift.” She swings her legs around and puts her feet onto the floor. “They have other gifts as well, though I do not think I can take those. Derry’n can walk on the air and Riochald can summons great amounts of power. I do not think I can summons at all. I think I can only copy simple powers. The weaker ones.”
Ori is stunned into silence for a moment. He has been worried for so many suns about this conversation. He always thought she would break down in tears and refuse to believe the truth. He could not have anticipated that she would know everything before he said a word. His thoughts gather and he sorts them into the right order.
“How do you know their names? And how do you take their powers?”
She smiles at the first and beams at the second. “My dreams. I have been following them ever since I first met them the day I was attacked. It was like I was always with them whatever they were doing.” Her eyes mist over as she remembers. “The attack in the road which split up the group. The deaths in the Nine Swans Inn. The cells under the palace in Atlant. Meeting the Queen. Derry’n’s first kiss,” she cocks her head to the side and smiles a slow smile. “It was beautiful to see. Canace falling from her horse and being saved by the healer. Meeting Tak’arshi in the Dark Clan city. Riochald healing him and giving him emotions—”
“She did what?” He barks astonished. “She healed him of the darkness!”
Molly nods her head but her expression darkens. “Riochald lost control of her powers. A terrible thing happened to her as a child and she could not keep it in. A phantom used her to attack the others. They had no choice but to use force to stop her.”
“She is dead? The Summoner is dead?” Ori drops backwards into his seat. The Summoner is mentioned throughout the Prophecy. If she is lost then the whole thing could be thrown into chaos. They will not be able to follow it any longer. All his work, his entire life will have been wasted.
�
��No she lives,” Molly says blandly. “But her mind is damaged. She hides from them and will not speak. Her power is also sealed. Of the phantom, there is no sign.”
Ori breathes again. He had not realized he had been holding his breath. “A frail mind we can help. She will be saved from her own fears.” He sits forwards again and pats the girl’s knee.
“How do you feel about all of this? You know everything that I could have told you. It is not the life I wanted for you and I know it is not the life you wished for.”
She shakes her head. “I do not know. I am sad that I will have to leave you and Onoui, O’us and Hisa. But I have always wanted to leave this city and explore the world. My biggest fear is that you will leave this world and I will not be here to see you pass over.”
Ori pats her knee. She is such a wonderful child, never thinking about herself and always thinking about others. She stares at him for a while before breaking eye contact. “When will they be here?” Her voice is small and frightened.
“Soon. Within an hour.”
“Then we do not have much time, do we? Our last hour of normality.” She brightens suddenly and turns back towards him. “Tell me a story,” she says through her grin.
“A story!”
“Yes. Tell me the one about the woman who lives in the stars. I love that one.”
Ori chuckles to himself as he settles back into his chair. Molly crosses her legs on the bed and waits eagerly for him to begin.
“Once upon a time...”
The calls come just as Ori is finishing the tale of lost love and a woman’s sacrifice to save her world. He pushes himself out of the seat and with Molly’s help makes his way over to the window. The twenty Angels have returned and with them they have carried eight people and their belongings.
