Amorlia

by Chris Wichtendahl

  Race through the Wood

  Artemis ran, her steps light and swift as a deer, into the Great Wood. As she left the Wild Lands behind, she felt the otherworldly feeling of the Wood envelop her, but it now seemed sinister, chaotic, hateful. The trees themselves were angry and did not want her there. Thorny vines and tangled brush grew across the path to impede her passage, but she merely leapt into the air, flipping once over the obstacles to continue her sprint. She thought to the trees as she ran. Do not seek to hinder me again, she warned, my quest is one of great urgency, and I’ve no time to be gentle with you. She drew her throwing blades, fanned them out and slid them back into their pouch, to show the belligerent plants she was serious. The forest did not attempt to stop her again directly, but she was soon beset by a hail of arrows from the thick tree cover. She had expected this, and nimbly dodged her attackers bolts. A few she plucked from the air in mid-stride, firing them back into the trees with Jef’s great oaken bow. She smiled grimly to hear the screams behind her as she hurried on. Artemis continued to run, the dark trees a blur on either side, her feet barely touching the path. Though she was nowhere near as fast as Pym, there were few humans who could match the pace Artemis kept. The crystal in her forehead began to glow, and her divine senses awakened. Artemis felt the energies of her goddess-self coursing through her as she ran. She sensed them before she saw them. Four mighty Huntsmen stood ahead of her on the trail, seeking to bar her path. Each bore a spear with a barbed tip. The Huntsmen were shirtless, their leggings torn to ragged strips, and their bodies were painted in crude red symbols. Their hair and beards had grown unkempt, and a feral bloodlust gleamed in their eyes. The madness of the Green Man was making the Huntsmen savage, no longer the noble warriors of the forest Artemis had known. Still not breaking her stride, Artemis jumped up as she drew near, pushing off the face of one Huntsman with her left foot and spinning around to kick the face of another with her right. Her sword was a blur in her hand as it snapped the spears of the others in two before cracking their skulls. Artemis hit the ground on the other side of the Huntsmen and ran on, catching more arrows as they flew at her. Some distance away from Artemis’ brief melee, most of the surviving Huntresses made their stand at the stone circle with the Sisters of Luna. Sister Terine worked at healing the injured, while Sisters Tana and Karma called upon their Goddess to turn the arrows of the Huntsmen. The men still would not approach the Yoni Luna, instead fighting the women from the trees at the edge of the clearing. Sister Kaatene stood with the Huntresses, firing arrow after arrow into the trees. It was a losing battle. Though the sacred pool provided them with water, their stores of food were running out. Fewer women made it to the sanctuary of the clearing, while more of its defenders fell each day. Their supply of arrows dwindled as well, as few of those fired by the Huntsmen were salvageable. As she strove to defend her home, Sister Kaatene prayed for deliverance. Just then, Artemis burst from the trees, running at speed toward them. As she reached the line of women guarding the circle, she threw down a large bow and a handful of arrows. She spared the Sisters and the women of the Hunt a brief smile on approach, then, with a short, “Your pardon, ladies,” she leaped over the astounded defenders, flipped and dove head-first into the sacred pool, vanishing beneath the surface. The Sisters spared a glance for the clear water, then returned to the battle. Sister Kaatene smiled as she set one of Artemis’ arrows to the string of her bow. Their struggle, it seemed, would soon be at an end.

  Summerland

  Artemis dove down into the infinite sea between the worlds. It was different now as she swam under her own power, in full possession of her own divinity. She looked around, marveling at the wonders filling her vision. A school of translucent glowing fish with human faces swam past. She knew they were recently departed souls, making their way to the Summerland. She waved at them and they smiled at her before swimming on. She continued through the sweet warm water, the shores of the Summerland a bright spot in her mind. As she passed the shimmering bubble cities of the nyads, the one who had guided her on her last journey approached. Daughter of the Moon, she said with great deference, what brings you this way again? Strife, Artemis answered, in the mortal world. It is strife of Otherworldly origin, however, and I seek my mother’s aid. The nyad nodded, A wise course, though I caution you that great change is upon the Summerland. Aspects of its nature become less True, while others more so. I do not understand, Artemis said. The nyad shook her head, Nor do we, and it concerns us greatly. She bowed slightly then, wished Artemis well on her journey, and returned quickly to her people. Artemis resumed her quest warily. This could not be coincidence. A terrible feeling of portent came over her then, and dread began to creep into her heart. Finally, she reached the shores of the Summerland and stood looking out over the great rushing river. Instead of the stream of stars across the curtain of night, a brilliant sun blazed in a sapphire sky. The air was warm, and her clothes were dry within moments. She turned around to seek her mother, instead almost colliding with her father. “My, but you have grown since I saw you last,” he smiled. Artemis smiled back. She had hoped to see him again on this journey. “Father!” She leapt into his arms, and he gathered her close in a great bear hug. They parted, and he touched her crown lightly with one finger. “I see you regained the throne,” he said, “not that I ever doubted you would. And what is this?” his finger gently brushed the crystal embedded in her forehead. She grinned, “The result of a very long story, Father,” she said, “and one I wish I had the time to relate.” “But time grows short, does it not?” another male voice spoke from behind her, “For your world, and for this one as well, I am afraid.” She turned. Standing before her was a tall man with broad shoulders and thick, well-defined muscles. His skin was dark, though his hair was radiant gold. It was as though the sun itself had left the sky to walk beside her. She gasped, “Lord Solar.” Solar bowed, smiling, “A pleasure to meet you at last, my Lady. I have heard much of you from those who know you well, and observed still more. Come,” he beckoned, walking away from the river toward a meadow of grass and flowers, “you have questions that must be answered, and as I said, time grows short for all of us.” “Why?” Artemis asked, hurrying to keep up, her father beside her. “Ah,” Solar turned his radiant smile to her, “an excellent question, and it will be one that I answer,” he made a placating gesture, “But it must wait. Other questions need asking before that one, and they must also wait until we have joined your mother.” He sighed as the trio walked through a field of wheat, “I truly am happy you have come to us, Artemis,” he said, “for I despaired of ever meeting you at all. Had you waited any longer, I would already have been gone.” “Gone?” “Aye,” Solar said sadly, “Though it is part of a larger tale you will be told, you should know that you come to us in the Final Days.” “The Final Days of what?” Artemis asked, fear spreading through her heart. Solar stopped, looking around him as though trying to commit his surroundings to memory. Then he gripped Artemis by the shoulders, turning his shining eyes to hers. “Be attentive in your time here, young one,” Solar admonished, “for you are to bear witness to the Final Days of the Gods.”

  Last Child of the Sun

  Artemis was seated on a large comfortable blanket that was laid out under a massive oak tree atop a grass-covered hill. The hill overlooked a lake and there were mountains in the background. An excess of food and drink were arranged on the blanket. Artemis helped herself to the feast, as did her mother and Lord Solar. Her father was no longer with them, having left to join other souls being considered for rebirth. He and his daughter had made their final farewells, knowing they would not meet again. “Now,” Solar said, taking a bite of an apple, “you have a question for me.” “I do,” Artemis said. “I want to know why Kael is the last of his kind, and how he came to be in Amorlia hundreds of centuries past the end of his race.” “Is that really the most important question you have, Artemis?” Luna took a sip of wine from a delicate crystal goblet, “Your people fight for their very
existence. The Ship of the Dead has been seen in the skies of the mortal world, signaling the End Times. Do you not wish to ask of Umbra, or to petition us for aid?” “All of that and more, mother,” Artemis agreed, “but I also promised Kael I would get him some answers, so let us tend to that first.” Luna said nothing, merely smiled and drank more wine. “It is,” Solar began, “a complicated answer. So I think, rather than tell you,” he smiled and touched the crystal in her forehead with one finger, “I will show you.” There was a blinding flash behind Artemis’ eyes and the world spun. Then she was looking down upon a strange land. Somehow, she knew it was the great southern continent, birthplace of the Solarian people as well as the Nazeans. High above the land, in the upper atmosphere, a great rock floated. It was honeycombed with many passages, and as she looked closer, shapes on the rock’s surface resolved into buildings. A giant city floated high above the world, home to a race none had ever seen, nor would again. Winged beings flew from building to building, in and out of the many passages tunneled through the rock. Artemis felt her attention drawn to one specific being, and it was as though she shot toward the floating city to fly beside him through the air. He looked very much like Kael, except for his eyes, with blue skin and red wings. His face was a mask of concern and determination as he flew. Around him, other Sol Ky Taan flew about their business, with skin and wings of varying hues. Artemis and her companion flew out of the city proper, toward a tall towering structure near its edge. Here, the Sol Ky Taan alighted on a balcony and entered. Artemis followed quietly, though it was clear she could not be seen or heard. “La’a?” the man called out, walking through what seemed to be a bedroom, “La’a?!” “I am here, beloved,” a woman entered, carrying a tiny bundle in her arms. She was beautiful as her husband was handsome. She too had blue skin and red wings, and Artemis could see that she had Kael’s eyes. Artemis stared at the bundle in her arms, realization dawning. “Jol,” La’a said, coming to embrace him, “how did it go with the Magiem?” Jol sighed, holding his family tighter, “As we expected,” he said, “They will not listen to reason, still insisting on this foolhardy invasion of Faerie.” “Did you not tell them of what you learned?” she asked, “That Lord Solar will destroy us all if our post is deserted for such a foul purpose?” “I told them,” Jol said wearily, “and though many other Pagani expressed solidarity with me in private, when pressed by the Magiem, not one would substantiate my claim. Of course,” he sat down heavily on the bed, “the Sectaran wasted no time branding me a heretic and a liar. They claim I am attempting to foment rebellion, to give aid and comfort to our enemies.” “The Faer Folk are our enemies now?” La’a was aghast. “So it would seem,” Jol said, “This has gone far beyond merely taking our rightful place in a homeland supposedly ‘denied’ us. There is talk of occupying the First World and subjugating its people.” He shook his head, “I sense a larger hand in all this. Something sinister guides these events.” He followed this thought a moment, then scowled, dissmissing it. “It matters little now.” Looking up at La’a, he said, “We need to get started.” He stood, striding purposefully to a wide opening at the center of the dwelling. His wings unfurled and he glided slowly down several levels of their home to the ground floor. La’a followed after, her child beginning to stir. She kissed him absently on the head, then again with greater attention, realizing it was the last time. She closed her eyes, as though memorizing the feel of his soft baby skin on her lips, the way his little bald head smelled. Jol had explained this mad scheme to her and she had agreed, knowing what Solar had planned. But now, looking down at her poor tired little crying bundle of thwarted slumber, she just wanted to fly away with him, far away, perhaps they could outrun Solar’s Curse, they could... No. She’d seen the design, the macabre song that would spell doom for her entire people over the misguided idiocy of an elite few. Her reward for her loyalty was to know what was coming. No no, she had to remind herself. She and Jol got one more thing for their trouble. Kael. Solar promised to help Kael. She kissed him again, hugging her sweet boy tighter. At least, she wouldn’t have to miss him long. That she drew comfort from the thought made her shiver. Kael cried louder, and she kissed him through rough tears. Jol pulled a tarp from a large egg-shaped crystal. It was not quite the size of a grown man. He ran his hands over it and muttered under his breath. At once, intricate designs illuminated along the sides of the crystal, and a long line bisected the shape. The top half slid back and up, revealing a padded interior. “Jol,” La’a struggled to be heard over Kael’s inconsolable wailing, “surely this is not necessary? Yes, the Magiem mean to invade, but there must be time to-” A sudden rumbling shook the building. “No, my darling,” Jol shook his head sadly, “there is no time for anything. The invasion was already underway when I made my last appeal. Lord Solar’s punishment begins.” “But,” La’a looked around, clutching her crying child to her, “but we have remained loyal. We do not deserve this. Our child...” Jol went to her and held her, looking down at the infant in her arms. He took his son and kissed him lightly on the forehead. The crying stopped. “That’s right, little Kael,” Jol whispered through his own tears, “sleep now.” He placed Kael in the crystal egg, turning to La’a as she approached. “Our child will be safe, darling,” he said, “in the Lands to the north.” La’a was shocked, reaching for her baby. “You mean to send him to the humans? But, they are savages! Look at the creatures we have been set above! Stupid, unruly animals who live in a state of near- constant warfare!” She turned tearful eyes to him when he held her back from the egg, “Jol, they kill one another for having skin of a different shade, how will our child ever survive in such a world, looking the way he does?” “It is not just a different land I send Kael to, but a different time,” Jol explained, “He travels far into the future, when the humans will have evolved past such conflicts, and will be ready for him.” “That’s impossible,” La’a whispered, “time travel is one of the Unknowable Secrets.” “Lord Solar knows it,” Jol said, “and he shared that knowledge with me.” He touched the egg. “I was only able to make the one transport, and only large enough for him.” He looked down at the egg, then back at his wife and frowned, “I could... try to make more room,” he suggested, “Perhaps you and he could-” The building shook again, more violently this time, and the rumbling did not subside. La’a smiled sadly at her husband, “It is too late for that,” she said, sealing the egg with a gesture, “and I would not leave you to die alone.” Jol said nothing, simply holding his wife close. He explained the sequence of symbols to press on the egg, and the necessary chant to empower the transport with sufficient Spark for the journey. As the two Sol Ky Taan stood amid their crumbling home, singing their child to safety, the crystal egg lifted from the floor to hover a moment. Then with a great roar, the small craft shot up along the center of the tower, crashing through the ceiling to speed away from the city. As it left the rock behind, it began to stretch forward, a portal in time opening in front of it. The egg continued to stretch, shifting toward a temporal vanishing point before disappearing into the timestream. Then the mighty aerial city plunged to the ground below, cracking the southern continent in half as it exploded. Artemis came to herself on the blanket and looked accusingly at Solar. “That was ridiculous!” she cried. “That was what happened,” Solar replied. “But it didn’t have to!” she yelled. “Kael’s parents were loyal to you! You could have saved the whole family! You didn’t have to let them die! You could have-” “Artemis,” Luna lay a gentle hand on Artemis’ arm, “Solar did the only thing he could have. He did as the legend demanded.” “What?” Artemis’ anger began to cool, as confusion took its place. “The legend,” Solar said, “of the Last Child of the Sun. As it was conceived by the storytellers of your race, so it came to pass.” He shrugged, “As below, so above.” “I don’t understand,” Artemis looked between Solar and Luna. Both had looks of resignation on their faces. “I know,” Luna said, “but you will. We are going to explain why our history has been as it was, and why
we have no choice but to leave you.” “Leave?” Artemis had expected this, but it came as a blow nonetheless. “Yes, my dear sweet child,” a tear made from starlight wound its way down Luna’s cheek, “there is time for one last story, one last tale of myth and wonder, then it is time to say goodbye.”