Complete Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches

by William Robert Stanek

  “But your eyes?”

  “Eyes can get in the way of true sight.”

  Valam turned back and stared at the milky white of her eyes. “True sight, you say that as if blindness were a gift?”

  “It is a gift. My gift to you.”

  Valam started to say, “What do you mean?” but the old woman didn’t let him speak. She hushed him, raised her hands and threw a white powder into his eyes. Valam’s screams would have brought the guards if the old woman hadn’t clamped her hand over his mouth with a viselike grip—a grip surprisingly strong.

  “Hush, hush,” she whispered as she stifled his screams. “The pain will pass. It will pass.”

  Vilmos leaned down to drink water from a crystal blue pool. The voices inside his mind had faded as he ran. Now they were completely gone.

  The cool, clear water tasted pleasant against his palette, yet as he reached down to scoop up a second handful, he noticed something. It was the first time he had seen his reflection in what seemed ages. He saw a small boy, a boy not even ready to become a man, in that image. He didn’t like what he saw.

  He was not a boy—a mere boy—a scrawny little boy. His vanity wouldn’t allow him to continue in the body of a mere boy. He decided he wanted to be older, bigger, stronger. It took only a moment to gather the required energy. He released the full force of those energies unto himself. Raw energy ripped through his body. Its wonder held and captivated him.

  His legs collapsed under the strain. He fell to his knees. Voices in his head cried out in joy all around him and where a boy had fallen to the ground, a man rose in his place. He steadied himself, feeling awkward under the new weight, but good.

  Gazing into the pool, he liked what he saw. He had accelerated his growth until he was at the edge of adolescence, on the verge of becoming a man, on the verge of coming into his own. The age when his mind was to awaken.

  He eyed the reflection, liking the broad shouldered, muscular, young man that looked back at him. He stared fixedly at the image for a long time, then turned and walked northward once again. He walked all that morning. Something clung to the edge of his mind. The voices spurred him on, carrying him to a place only they knew.

  He felt eyes upon him, all around him, though he saw no man or beast. He slowed to a wary, cautious pace.

  Hours later, he spotted a pure white horse running at the head of a large herd. It was so beautiful, so perfect. He had to have it.

  As if sensing him, the herd turned. He could see the white stallion’s eyes as it came at him.

  Unmoving, he waited. The ground shook. The thunder of hooves filled the air. He put his hands to his ears as the horses raced by.

  The thunder faded. He turned, expecting to see a trail of dust. Instead, he found the white stallion waiting for him.

  Vilmos approached the horse, staring with powerful, probing eyes. Temporarily, the horse’s rampant spirit calmed. It could not run from him, though it wanted to.

  Each time the horse attempted to flee Vilmos tightened the grip of his mind. He climbed onto the animal’s back. It defiantly threw him. Its spirit was not entirely captivated.

  He stood, wiped dust from his backside, made a second attempt. Again the horse threw him.

  He persisted. His anger grew with each failed attempt. As it peaked he turned the anger on the poor creature whose only wish was to remain free. He raised a hand to focus, preparing to do his worst.

  Pain, clear and precise, whipped through his mind, scattering his thoughts. It struck him down as he sought to strike down the horse. Try as he might, he couldn’t kill the horse. Something wouldn’t let him. In utter frustration he watched the animal run off.

  He watched it go and it was then that he saw the tower far in the distance. The tower called to him. He went.

  “I forgive you,” the old woman said again and again as Valam screamed in pain. “I forgive what you will do, what you must do.”

  He was on his knees, pain sweeping through his body. He fought to maintain it but consciousness was slipping away.

  The old woman circled him, nodding in approval. “Pain is only the beginning. I promise you.”

  Through clenched teeth Valam shouted, “Why are you doing this to me?”

  The old woman grabbed a handful of white powder from her pocket. As Valam sought to speak she threw the powder in his face. “You have great tolerance,” she said, nodding to herself, “This is good. They will break you. I promise you. You will beg to die. I promise you this as well. I can’t let that happen. You must do what must be done. I can’t let you do otherwise.”

  Fighting for each breath, Valam collapsed to the floor. His lungs were on fire. “Why me?” he asked, his voice scarcely a whisper.

  “With your sister I had luxury, time, with you I have no such luxury. You must see the world as it is, not as you believe it to be. You must do this now. You must know what is ahead.”

  She clapped her hands and shouted, “Soshi, enter!”

  The olive-skinned girl entered, fought back a scream when she saw Valam on the floor writhing in pain. She turned away from the prince, shock clearly on her face, as she bowed before her mistress.

  “Help me carry him to the bed,” the old woman crooned. The two labored many long minutes. When the prince was finally in the bed the old woman said, “Bind feet and hands to the bedposts. Quickly now…”

  Soshi did as asked without question. Binding the prince’s feet and hands as he screamed and writhed in pain wasn’t easy. Tomorrow she’d have deep purple bruises where his fists and feet smashed into her face and chest. Despite this and despite herself, she leaned over and kissed his cheek when she was done.

  The old woman pushed her away, saying, “Leave us, go now.”

  Soshi paused at the doorway, turning back for a moment. Then she left, waiting outside as before. The door was slightly ajar, so she could see clearly into the room.

  The old woman placed a blood mark on the prince’s wrists and ankles. It could have been Soshi’s imagination or the fact that the prince struggled violently against the bonds, but to Soshi it seemed tiny creatures moved within the red streams of blood. She could see their silver, black forms swirl within the red. Then they were burrowing into the prince’s skin, spreading arcs of black silver along the blue of his veins.

  She knew enough about the Cleansing to know that this was but the beginning. What came next, she didn’t dare witness. She quietly closed the door, sank to her haunches.

  She rocked back and forth, slowly at first but faster and faster as time passed. The fingers of her hands were clasped together in prayer, deep, reverent prayer. “Great Father,” she begged, “hear me. Do not let him fail this test. Do no let him pass from this life. I do love him, I do, and if love is blind, let me take his blindness. Restore his sight so that he may see, so that he may see true.”

  “But fools in the game,” she whispered, turning to the girl. She reached out. Her hands mapped the girl’s face and checked the unfocussed gaze of the eyes.

  A tear streamed down the girl’s cheek, single and crystalline. The old woman wiped it away, saying, “No greater gift has there ever been.” Her own cheeks were moist with tears, but they weren’t tears of loss and sorrow as with Soshi. They were tears of joy. “My work here is done. I can do no more. You take my place now as I pass from this life.”

  “But I’m not ready,” Soshi protested. “I’m but a girl. I don’t know what I must do.”

  “You’ve given the greatest of gifts. Pure love in your heart will keep and guide you.”

  “But what of my prince?”

  “What you choose to do is up to you, and while you could have the hearts and minds of a thousand such in your time, sight will come and you will see the truth of it all. You won’t have questions then, only answers.”

  “I need you.”

  The old woman stumbled at the side of the bed, fell, fought to stand. A breeze which had been flowing gently through the open window behind her a moment bef
ore stopped, and as the sheer silk curtains in the window ceased to flutter, the old woman’s heart gave way. She fell to the floor. Her last expression, a smile on her lips.

  Her body turned to bone, then to ash before Soshi’s eyes. Then just as suddenly as the breeze had stopped, it picked up, sweeping the old woman’s ashes from the room and up into the heavens. Soshi raced to the window. In her mind’s eye she could see the old woman flying in the clouds, soaring to heaven above.

  She wasn’t given time to enjoy the miracle or to grieve. The Sight hit her. She fell to the floor. She could see them coming. The palace was in a panic. Something dread was happening.

  Soshi rose to her feet. She went to her dressing table, found the long knife in the bottom drawer. She hastened to the side of the bed, raised the blade high, slashed the bindings one by one until they all fell away.

  She lay down beside the prince for what she knew in her heart would be the last time and waited. They were coming. Only a few fleeting moments remained. She sighed, kissed him one last time, put her arms around him.

  The summons came. “Open the door in the name of the king!” they shouted.

  Soshi didn’t move. She feigned sleep. They tried to open the door. It was locked. They began to beat the door down, battering it over and over.

  The lock gave way. The door crashed inward.

  Soshi sat up. She pretended to be surprised and half asleep. The milk white of her eyes frightened the men who had crashed through the door. They raced to the prince, dragged him from the bed.

  Chapter Eight:

  A Gentle Madness

  Adrina screamed, knelt beside him. “Your eyes,” she said at long last, “Your eyes.”

  Valam reached out a hand to her, groped until he found her face and cheeks. He wiped away the tears he found there. “It is my own fault for not seeing,” he whispered.

  Adrina dipped a thick cloth in the cold water of the basin, used the cloth to wipe away the strange white powder from his face and eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Valam sighed, steadied her hand. The cool water took the sting from his eyes and at long last he was able to open them. “You’ve seen her too, haven’t you?”

  Adrina stared into the milky white of his eyes and started to shiver. “You’re not making any sense? I don’t understand.”

  Valam grabbed the cloth from her hand, stood, went to the wash basin. He stuck his face in the icy cold water and swished his head back and forth. The water in the basin turned to a milky white. He raised his head, water dripped from his face and hair.

  Adrina put a clean cloth in his hand. He used it to dry himself. “You can see,” she whispered as she watched him.

  “I see,” Valam said as he dabbed his face.

  “But how is that possible? Your eyes are the eyes of the blind and yet you see. What happened? You must tell me what happened?”

  Valam touched a hand to her shoulder. He towered over her as she looked up at him. She shivered as the milky white that had covered his eyes a moment ago faded. She could tell Valam could feel it go. A transformation of sorts was taking place before her eyes. Soon all that remained of the blind eyes was a faint trace of white dulling the brown of his eyes.

  “The old woman,” Valam said after a long silence. “The old woman. You’ve seen her too, I know.”

  Adrina didn’t understand at first. Valam explained. She told him about the encounters with the Lady of the Forest and the strange woman in the watch tower.

  “The woman in the tower, that’s her,” Valam said. “Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

  “There isn’t much to tell,” Adrina said as she tried to remember the details of the encounter that seemed to have happened a lifetime ago. She told him more of what she remembered.

  He stared blankly at the wall for a long time after she finished. For a time Adrina was afraid the blindness had returned. Then he turned to her, smiled. She didn’t understand why he was grinning. “A gift, don’t you see,” he said. “We’ve been given a gift. A glimpse at what could be. We’ve been given a choice. Change comes.”

  “That’s what she said,” Adrina said excitedly. “That’s what she said. ‘Child, smell it. It comes, can you not tell?... Change, child. Sadness cannot hold forever the land.’ Change comes.”

  Valam kissed her cheek and hugged her. “It is good not to be alone in this,” he whispered in her ear.

  “You are not alone,” she whispered back.

  “If I were I’d go mad.”

  Myrial touched a hand to the closed door, continued on her way. As she walked to the lower level of the palace her heart went out to them as never before. Valam had been her first love, a girlish crush really. He’d never had eyes for her, only her for him, and she’d been too young to even know what love really was. She still didn’t know true love but she understood it better now.

  What she felt for Valam now was more what a sister felt for a brother. It was the same way she felt about Adrina. Adrina was the sister she never had and Valam was the brother she never knew.

  She hummed happily as she walked. She had a pretty voice when it was raised to song and cheer.

  The day’s tasks would seem mundane compared with the excitement of the last few days, but a household did not run itself. She would see to the stewards and the cooks first, even though it meant she would have to deal with the former housemaster directly to do so. Most of the stewards and cooks only listened to the old dog despite her best efforts. She didn’t mind though, Sedrick Bever knew his place well enough, and through him she was learning to run the enormous household.

  She was no fool. She knew better than to approach Sedrick alone. First she would stop by her chambers to freshen up and find an escort.

  Garette Timmer waited outside her chamber door. He nodded to her as she passed by. She smiled. If there was anyone she was getting a crush on it was Garette Timmer. He was strong and true. He’d stand outside her door day and night without reprieve if she asked him too, which she never would. His day duty was enough of a reminder to those who needed such a reminder. She was housemistress now. There was no disputing it.

  As she bathed she thought of Garette. He was cute with a wisp of his father the swordmaster in him. This gave him a sharp edge, a look of danger. Fresh clothes were laid out and waiting for her when she looked up from bubbles and steam.

  It had been a long day already. She was tired, but reminded herself that for many the day was just beginning. There was so much to do, so very much to do. Keeping everything perfect, or as close to perfect as possible, meant that even in the wee hours of the night someone somewhere was working in support of the household.

  When she began she vowed that she wouldn’t forget the night workers as Sedrick Bever had done. Sure, the day cooks, stewards and workers were the ones whose labor most directly impacted the king, his family, honored guests, and the like, but the night staff had their place too.

  One of her first official actions as housemistress had been to double their daily copper. She had gained important allies in doing so, but that had not been her intent. She saw no reason the night staff made half as much as their daytime counterparts. They were no less important. Their work no less meaningful.

  She was dressing when the knock came on the door. She looked up, called out, “Enter, please.” She blushed when she saw it was Princess Adrina, blurted out a quick apology. “What brings you to my door, Dri?”

  Adrina smiled at the familiar childhood name. It always brought memories, even for Myrial. “Everything,” she said. “Everything. I’ve never seen him so shaken. It was as if all the world fell away and he was left standing alone on a mountain top.”

  Myrial helped Adrina to a chair, pretended for Adrina’s benefit that she knew nothing. She called out to Garette. He came running into the room. “Where’s Anri?” she asked. Anri was the only member of the lavish personal staff of the former housemaster she had retained. “Send for him. Tell him we need food and drink.”

  G
arette hurried away. She called after him, “Drink, first. Something warm, but not hot.”

  “We’re alone now,” Myrial whispered. “I’m here for you.”

  “I’ve never seen him like this. It’s like… like…” her voice trailed off. She sat quietly until the refreshments arrived. Myrial didn’t push for more information.

  Myrial thanked Anri, nodded to the drink. She poured the deep black kindra-ale into two cups. One she handed to Adrina. As Adrina sipped the drink, the color returned to her face. “You’ve been walking the gardens,” Myrial said, “You’re likely to catch a chill that way. Winter’s here. I can feel it. The snows will come early.”

  “I’ve lost him.”