The Price of Wisdom

by Shannah Jay

  Calmly she began to explain how she thought they might just turn the scales against evil the following day.

  When Herra had finished, Davred was the first to say, 'I see the path, Elder Sister!' and the others echoed his words.

  She said no more, but inclined her head and walked back to her tent. She felt so light and distant now, filled with a restless energy that was pouring into her from somewhere. But this energy must all be saved for tomorrow now, whatever the temptation to turn aside and help someone.

  As they watched her go, it seemed as if she were floating across the ground, walking so softly her feet made no contact with the dust.

  Other people watched her pass in awe, but only one person made an attempt to catch her up. The God's mark was very clear upon her that night and she was already changing, turning into something different.

  By the time Herra reached her tent, Cheral was only one pace behind her. 'Brother, look down,' she murmured instinctively. 'Look down upon this most precious of our Sisters.'

  She didn’t attempt to join Herra inside the tent, but sat down by the entrance, keeping other people out, guarding her dear Sister's peace. Somehow she knew Herra would need this time of respite to prepare for tomorrow's battle. And for tomorrow's transition.

  ***

  All night long the ground rumbled near the pass and in the valley. The Serpent rose and fell from the dark subterranean depths, rose and fell without pattern or rhythm, as if he, too, were restless.

  But all through that bleak night, the deleff stood firm in their line and guarded the entrance to Therak Bowl, so Those of the Serpent couldn’t move forward to attack.

  Sen-Sether didn’t sleep. Victory was too close. He lay there in waking dreams of how he would crush those hags, how he would then lay the Serpent's mark upon the whole land. Only one more day.

  Those softbellies couldn’t possibly hold out for longer. If they hadn’t chosen their battle ground so well, they wouldn’t have held out for even so long against the might and power of his army, against the inevitability of the Serpent.

  'Dread my Lord, we shall serve you well this day,' he murmured as dawn paled the sky and the army started stirring around him.

  CHAPTER 29 PATH TO ETERNITY

  It was surely the most beautiful of all dawns. Drifts of cloud patterned the paleness of the sky, trapped the light of the sun and displayed it in exquisite gradations of red and gold.

  As the light increased and the clouds paled to fluffy whiteness and the sky turned blue again.

  Quinna rose to her feet from beside Kensin's body. Just at the last he’d known her and had managed a very slight smile as his lips formed the words 'My girl'. Nim walked beside her, as if the great cliff cat could understand her grief.

  Quinna performed her ablutions, willing herself not to give way. All she cared about was at stake this day. Grief could wait. She drank some of the pure water from the pool that never seemed to grow sullied, however many passed through the portal and however many came to drink there. Then she walked across to the command centre, shaking her head at an offer of food, stroking Nim's head absently with one hand.

  Herra came out of her tent in her full regalia as an Elder Sister officiating at a major ceremony. Pale blue robe crusted with pearls, crystals and silver embroidery, star corona headdress with crystals and pearls quivering on silver wire stems and already reflecting the morning light. She moved in time to unseen rhythms. She looked through people as if they weren’t there.

  Half walking, half dancing, she made her way to the summit of a small hill and called, in a voice which seemed to echo and re-echo across Therak Bowl, 'We shall gather now, my friends - all of us - every last one - whether you are of the Kindred or not.' Then she stood and turned visibly inwards again as she waited for them to obey.

  Light seemed to gleam and twinkle from her garments, and as it had done so many times before, to gather around her, so that she glowed more and more brightly, outshining the early morning sun.

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  They came to her quickly, walking, running, stumbling, limping. They formed circles around her without a word. They joined hands and glances, circle upon circle upon circle of people, with a unity of purpose and a great warm depth of love to share with one another on this most terrible of days.

  In the centre, forming the smallest circle, stood those who had gone on quest with Herra. Around them stood two circles of full Kindred, each person dressed in Sisterhood blue, the paler blue of festive occasions, with its delicate embroideries. During the night the tailor from Northwoods, who had fashioned garments for the Kindred during the past decade, had come through the portal with it loaded on a wagon drawn by very large deleff. Once in Therak Bowl, he’d walked around the tents with a lantern, sorting out all the clothing by size and setting it ready to be worn by each person, just as the Elder Sister had once commanded him to do.

  'When the bleakest hour is upon us,' she had said, 'then you, Mireth, shall bring us our signs of unity. You shall make us robes and tunics and headbands, all in the old style. They shall be the most beautiful garments you’ve ever made. And they shall help save our world.'

  It had taken him a full year to complete the task, working secretly, with Cheral's assistant Daranna guarding him and his apprentices from prying eyes. He had, he admitted to himself, felt great pride in the importance of what he was doing and been inspired to create wonderful new designs. With his Brother's help and that of a few carefully chosen assistants, he’d then created the most beautiful garments he’d ever made, richly embroidered, soft and lustrous. He’d not only played his part, but had kept faith with the Elder Sister, as she’d always kept faith with her people.

  One by one those in the inner circle came forward and joined hands around Herra, knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t be joining them, but staying in the centre as a focus of this crucial activity. They’d been forged in a harsh furnace, turned into the strong beings they were now, so they stood proudly, setting aside the threat that was facing them as they prepared to commune with their Brother the God, and setting aside also their worries about what this day might bring to them personally.

  In the strange light of that very special morning, they seemed to the ordinary folk in the outer circles to be tall and godlike. Davred, with his sons at either side of him, Quinna, Quedras, Querilla and Quall.

  Cheral and Fiana. Carryn and Benjan. Taslyn and Petur. Jonner and Narla. Names that were already a legend in the high reaches.

  Only Katia was missing and suddenly, Davred's eyes lit up as he sensed that she was still alive, conscious now, somewhere far above him. The contact was brief but unmistakable. She was alive. He whispered it to his sons, who beamed at him and passed on the good news.

  Herra waited for the whispering to die down again, then spoke. 'Let us gather!' Her words repeated themselves as if the air itself had folded into an echoing chamber. 'Let us gather! Let us gather! Let us gather!

  Let us gather!' The call bounced from wall to wall of the rocky basin.

  Every single person in Therak Bowl heard her voice, every single person felt suddenly filled with the radiance of Herra's wisdom and had a clear understanding of the rightness of their cause. What they were doing was crucial to the whole of their world. On them the future depended. On them. Today. So they would not, could not fail.

  Silence fell, a silence woven with balance and beauty, as always in the morning Gatherings which the Elder Sister graced with her presence. But as the minutes flowed delicately past, another emotion began to make itself felt, to take root and grow in people who had thought never to experience it again after the losses of the previous day.

  'Joy!' said Herra aloud. 'It shall be a joy this day to defeat evil. Let no one doubt that. Joy!' And she laughed aloud as she added, 'Brother, look down. Look down upon your Kindred this day!'

  'Look down upon us all!' The usual response, but how much more meaningful today. They called it several times, their voices grow
ing louder and more optimistic with each call.

  Above them on the moon, Terraccalliss felt his consciousness expanding, reaching out, felt himself touching the pure essence that was Herra of Tenebrak, down there on the world he and his companions had been trying to shape and push gently towards wisdom for many long centuries. But this day he was dancing to Herra's bidding as he joined that precious gathering in Therak Bowl. His words 'I shall be with you this day!' echoed from the rocky walls and he followed his thoughts down along a shaft of pure golden light that touched Herra and reflected from her on to the rapt joyful faces of the Kindred.

  Thus they stood for a timeless period of communion, not dancing this day, just sharing their love and hope and joy, letting it wrap around them all and fill them with strength to face whatever came to them. There had never been such a unity of purpose, or such a melding of species.

  When it was time to end the Gathering, Herra repeated the word, 'Joy!' and her voice pealed out like a great golden bell. 'Carry your joy like a weapon today, my friends. Flaunt your joy in the face of evil!' With a graceful gesture she ended the Gathering and held out her hands to Taslyn and Petur. 'Let us go to meet the Serpent. You two shall enhance my power this day. For this you were bred. For this you were rescued. For this you were chosen.'

  Hand in hand the three of them led the way across the dust of Therak Bowl to the narrow entrance.

  They were followed by the Kindred, then by anyone who could walk or limp or shuffle. And joy swirled around them all still, brighter and warmer than sunshine.

  As Herra reached the entrance, the deleff moved aside to allow the humans to move through.

  They’d held the pass during a long night, facing hordes of enemies, facing a solid wall of hatred, and even these great creatures were drained of energy by it. Now it was for others to carry on the struggle against evil. They’d almost finished playing their part.

  A thousand men on the uppermost terrace roared loudly at the sight of the hated Elder Sister. The earth rumbled and shook as the Serpent prepared to rise. But Herra's smile didn’t falter as she went to meet the tide of enemies who waited only for a word to roll forward and crush the Kindred.

  And yet the army of the Serpent hesitated, uncertain what to do, for Herra and those near her still shone with that eerie golden light. It might gladden the hearts of her followers, but it sent shivers of fear along the cold tormented flesh of Those of the Serpent. It was too bright and her face was too happy for a woman facing death. What did it all mean? What secret weapon was she hiding?

  It was Sen-Sether who broke the impasse by riding forward himself and gesturing to his Initiates to follow. He drew his sword and held it aloft as he bore down upon Herra, and the light in his eyes was so wild, so feral, he no longer looked human.

  Herra laughed at him, laughed and held up the hands of the two young people as they clasped hers.

  In front of her she cast out a circle of brightness, whose circumference shimmered with power. The crystals in her garments caught the sunlight and reflected tiny rainbow prisms across the faces around her. But no reflections fell on those of evil.

  At the edge of the circle Sen-Sether reined in, for even he was surprised by the sight of an unarmed woman laughing in the face of death. Then he shook his head as if to clear it and began to move forward more cautiously. She was a madwoman, Herra of Tenebrak, and always had been. So of course

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  she wasn’t facing death with the respect and fear it deserved. But what did that matter when at last he was poised to destroy her?

  Suddenly his nerid bleated in terror and dug in its sturdy legs, heedless of the whip that rained vicious blows down upon its white coat and raised droplets of blood among the fur. Ignoring its rider, ignoring the whip and the pain, it bent its front legs and made obeisance to the brightness, the warmth, the sheer joy of living. For this joy embraced all forms of life.

  With an oath, Sen-Sether leaped down, not turning his eyes away from Herra. He beat at the terrified animal with his whip so that it galloped away in blind panic, leaving him to deal on foot with the hag whose death he thirsted for.

  'Serpent, come among us now!' he called. 'Dread my Lord, come among us and see the downfall of your enemy.'

  The Serpent rose swiftly. High above them all it towered, black as a fathomless hole, formed of a twisting darkness that took your eyes and played tricks upon them, so that you knew not how to look at it - or how to look away once your eyes were caught.

  Above the army of black-clad men, there in the entrance to the pass, the Serpent swayed and cast its shadow. And men shuddered as the darkness fell upon them.

  But the shadow stopped at the edge of the brightness surrounding Herra, stopped as if the Serpent didn’t even exist.

  Behind the light-gilded trio Alaran lifted his voice and began to sing Herra's Joy. From above, Terraccalliss amplified the sound so that the silver tenor voice poured melody out like liquid balm upon the weary people who stood behind Herra, ready to face death in their Brother's name, ready to do anything that Herra of Tenebrak asked of them.

  One by one they joined in, singing until the whole of Therak Bowl rang with the melody, till the song poured its own joy out through the pass to join the brightness around Herra.

  Beneath the earth Quequere parted the rocks to form caverns that magnified the sound a thousandfold and carried it down the hillside.

  Even the two lines of deleff who had kept night guard and were standing in silent exhaustion by the entrance, began to shuffle their feet, to provide a rhythmic accompaniment. That sound was echoed from the sky, where a line of gigantic deleff was flickering in and out of visibility as they stretched the edge of their alignment, striving to send any power they could to their brethren below, to their allies, to the forces of good, which they, too, served in their own way.

  And the strangest of battles that ever was began to rage between the Serpent's darkness and Herra's wall of light, began to make itself felt and heard. Lightning flickered, thunder roared and bounced from peak to peak, air hissed and wailed.

  As Alaran's song ended, and silence fell, Herra laughed. 'Joy,' she called to Sen-Sether, 'is stronger than pain.'

  Then her very last wind began to blow, roaring in from the narrow valleys beyond the Terraces, the valleys where some men were already creeping away from the battle they had never wished to fight.

  And as the wind whirled across the valley floor, the dust it raised reflected Herra's light and sparkled like miniature diamonds, sending tiny darts of brilliance flickering from a sullen face to a rapt one, from a fierce face to an anguished one. Herra’s wind tore the incense smoke to rags. The dust scoured the glowing tips of the candles and left them congealed and cold on their many-forked stands.

  More men from the Serpent's army crept backwards. The light reminded them of so many things, but mostly of joy, an emotion they’d forgotten. The joy of love, of beauty, the simple glory of a summer's day, the frozen display of ice in winter, the feel of a woman's breast, a child's hand lying trustingly in theirs like a small warm bird. More and more men from the rear ranks were fleeing, as the wind blew the fumes from their brains and the surging joy caught them by the throat causing healing tears to scald down their faces.

  Herra could feel the energy pouring through her, could feel how Taslyn and Petur used their Gifts to augment it, how the people willed their life energy to her from behind, how Terraccalliss lent his aid from above and Quequere from below, how the deleff supported them from across the tenuous bridge of the alignment. She laughed again as the Serpent beat helplessly against that brightness, that wall of sparkling joy.

  The Initiates stumbled forward to form a black line behind Sen-Sether. They began to falter out a faint chorus of 'Serpent, save your Servants.' The chorus gathered strength and the Serpent roared, making made the earth shake and shiver.

  But its shadow still ended at the boundary of the light, cut off there abruptly as if it didn’t ex
ist.

  The Serpent twisted and wove its coils to and fro in the air above, dashing itself against the great shell of light.

  Herra continued to smile and the voices behind her started singing again, led by Alaran.

  'Make sacrifice!' Sen-Sether shouted suddenly. 'Offer pain and death to our Dread Lord. Feed him the power to destroy those hags.'

  One of the Initiates stabbed himself in the chest instantly and the Serpent sucked up his pain and life essence with a shrill greedy whining sound. Another followed suit.

  A third Initiate, less keen to lose his own life, stumbled back to find the nearest soldier and raise his whip to the man, but the soldier twisted out of his grip and pushed away between his fellows. In desperation the Initiate slashed out with the whip at the line of men. Some stood and accepted its caress, offering up their pain; some turned and fled.

  One who stood his ground accepted nothing, but shook his head, blinking as if he had just woken up. Then he took his dagger and threw it at the Initiate's chest.

  That same soldier caught the whip that fell from the nerveless fingers of the dying Initiate and broke it across his knee, sobbing aloud with the need to destroy this symbol of evil. He slashed at the leather thongs in a frenzy of remorse and self-hatred, slashing until they fell in shreds upon the ground.

  And no one moved to stop him. Not one person.

  Although the Serpent swooped upon the dying Initiate, it found no gain from his killer, who was rushing round like a madman, trampling down the cold incense candles, grinding them beneath his feet, weeping as he did it and all the time begging his Brother's forgiveness.

  Others began to follow his example, breaking the dark ranks behind the Initiates. For the joy was more powerful, far more powerful, than anything else that day.

  Sen-Sether didn’t even glance behind him as he moved forward towards the light. He was beside himself with fury, as transcendent in his rage as Herra was in her joy. 'You shall not!' he shouted. 'No, you shall not.' He threw open his arms and called out, 'Use me, Dread my Lord, use me to kill the hag.'