Fragments of Light

by Beth Hodgson

  Auron had never trusted the sorceress. She wasn’t even a true sorceress; she’d only had the title bestowed upon her by the Empress herself. Ikaria was the only one born with the gift of the violet in all of time, as there had been no accounts of any other violet in history, but she had no idea how to tap into her magic, no matter how much she studied the subject. It had been whispered that Ikaria had a secret love for evil ancient technology while outright opposing the God of Light’s established High Court at every turn. And no wonder she couldn’t wield her violet magic, even if she tried. It was the God of Light’s retribution; he was simply not allowing such a vile person to wield his great power.

  “His Majesty, High Ruler of World Sector Six, Emperor Cyrus. Her Majesty, Second Ruler of World Sector Six, Empress Ayera,” the court herald announced, and all eyes turned to the hall entrance. The doors opened, and the whole court audience bowed as the royal couple appeared.

  Emperor Cyrus came first. He donned a long, flowing white robe trimmed with gold and a thick golden belt fastened around his waist. Atop his soft brown curly hair sat a golden circlet with pearls.

  Walking behind her husband, the Empress Ayera came into view. She was very much like a younger version of Ikaria, but a much softer, smaller, and shorter version. She was dressed in fashions from the sisters’ homeland: a white kimono embroidered with golden flowers along the hemline and around her neck. Her obi was made of gold satin, just like her husband’s belt, but instead of being plain like Cyrus’s, hers was heavily beaded. On top of her delicate head rested three triangle hair combs fashioned into a crown. Attached to the back of her head was a golden ring, which encircled her head like in one of the ancient celestial paintings. The Emperor and Empress each carried a golden scepter, signaling their position of authority.

  As the two walked down the center aisle to assume their thrones, Ayera’s midnight-black hair trailed behind her, flowing like a river as it kissed the floors. Her bangs were not cut like her sister Ikaria’s, but one could argue for either sister on who had the longer hair. Her dark, narrow eyes had a hint of worry behind them as they passed by.

  They seated themselves on their thrones, then the Emperor waved his scepter in greeting. Court was now in session.

  “Duke Sansall, is it true what has been said about Lord Valamir?” the Emperor said sternly. “Did the sweat claim his life? I want a full report on this matter. And why was I not told of this incident sooner?”

  The duke came forward, then bowed. “My utmost apologies, Your Majesty. Lord Valamir was discovered this morning by one of the citadel’s gardeners.”

  “Did he have the sweating sickness?” the Emperor demanded. “Has the plague now spread to our inner courts?”

  The duke nodded, his face grave. “Yes, Your Majesty, it appears so. Upon discovery, Lord Valamir’s clothes had been loosened by his neckline, the first indication of the sweat. There are a few witness accounts that confirm that Lord Valamir exited the theater during the performance. They claimed he looked overheated.”

  “Did anyone else exit the theater?” the Empress interjected. “Perhaps this could be more than the sweat?”

  “Unlikely,” the duke replied. “No one else left, and there were no indications of foul play, Empress. It appears that Lord Valamir’s sweat became intense, as his clothes were completely soaked through, even his doublet. And by all accounts about how we found him, he must have been hallucinating. His body was badly bruised from a fall off one of the garden benches and the… disfiguring of his body… There was blood on his own fingernails.” The duke sighed, pausing. “I must say that, just like in Lord Valamir’s case, it is almost exactly like the death of the orange-gifted, the Lady Yasmin, from weeks ago.” He paused again.

  “Well, go on,” the Emperor urged.

  “Lord Valamir’s magic hadn’t disappeared, just like in the case of Lady Yasmin. Both Lord Valamir and Lady Yasmin contracted the plague, no doubt, as the sweat was one of the symptoms. And just like the Lady Yasmin, his magic was intact, as we saw the red power of his life force within his eyes. And there’s the fact that they both succumbed to death, whereas all the other gifted survived the magic leaving them.”

  There was silence over the court. Everyone held their breath, including Auron.

  “Perhaps this is not an illness at all,” Ayera countered. “Perhaps we should view these as suicides. You said yourself Lady Yasmin was quite out of her mind when she contracted the illness. It was known that she begged for her lover within the ramblings of her madness weeks before the disease took her.”

  “Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you. However, I can tell you in full confidence that Lord Valamir and Lady Yasmin were victims of this plague. It is the same illness, as both of these gifteds’ deaths have the same attributes of the magical plague—the sweating, strong signs of hallucinations… It’s enough for them to be not in their right minds to inflict terrible pain upon themselves. I have talked with the court priests, and they think the disease has mutated into a darker magic, causing a kind of possession somehow.”

  Ikaria belted out a loud laugh, and it echoed over the court. “Somehow?” she parroted the duke’s words. Every eye in the room went straight to her. She elegantly placed the back of her hand over her mouth softly, then quieted herself with the small sound of clearing her throat.

  “Excuse me, Duke Sansall, for questioning you.” Ikaria stepped forward, swaying her hips. “But how would you, or the priests, shall I say, even begin to fathom that the disease mutated somehow? What supports your claim? A few priests spouting off their manufactured opinions? They don’t have the gift of the green, therefore they would not be able to begin to understand any disease, earthly or magical.”

  The duke turned red, holding back his anger.

  “Do they, Duke Sansall?” Ikaria asked pointedly.

  Auron was about to step forward to defend his priestly brothers and sisters, but the Empress waved her scepter in a sweeping gesture.

  “Enough, Ikaria!” Ayera ordered.

  Ikaria whipped around to face her sister and the Emperor. “This is why we need technology,” she said strongly, narrowing her eyes on Ayera, then addressing the court. “We need hard science, the science of old! How will speculation help us? We, as a society, have gone too long with just speculation. Look what our ignorance is doing to us! Taking away our power. And now, it is killing us.”

  Ikaria stared down everyone in the court, then paused at Ayera before continuing. “We still have many artifacts that have not been turned over to the High Court. We could study them before handing them over. Perhaps one of these might have an answer to what we are looking for stored within its data, endless knowledge of medicines or other cures.”

  There were murmurs in the court hall, some in agreement with the sorceress, others opposing such an idea.

  Ayera clenched her armrests, annoyed. Ever since Ikaria had been appointed court sorceress, she had brought up the same argument at least once a year. Only each time, she was much more clever going about it than the last.

  “What you are suggesting is against the law, and heresy,” Ayera said sternly. “You, as well as everyone else here, know that we will not break our pact with the High Court in regard to technology. We would have the other five sectors, along with the High Court, at war with us if we chose to do so.” Ayera snapped her head in the direction where the other world-sector diplomats were sitting. “Isn’t that right, Lady Zara?” she asked, singling the older woman out.

  The woman bowed, lowering her eyes. “Quite right, Your Majesty.”

  Ikaria didn’t move, looking directly at her sister. “I don’t think you understand. We don’t have power of green magic, a magic that can truly heal and restore one’s body. Really, what can the power of red elemental magic do against this? Nothing. And the power of orange’s illusion and transmutation? Nothing. Or yellow’s prophecy?” she asked, freezing in her spot. Ikaria glanced right at Auron, her eyes seething with hatred f
or him. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing! And the blue… peering into the past would produce answers, but it is outlawed by the High Court! How is it heresy to better our lives by finding cures with the use of the old technology?”

  Wild whispers erupted all around Auron, echoing throughout the court. Many gasped while others whispered the word “heresy.” Indeed, what Ikaria had said was heresy.

  Emperor Cyrus bolted up, shooting Ikaria an irritated glare. “Silence!” Cyrus boomed.

  Instantly, the court went still, and all Auron could hear was the sound of the Emperor’s echoes. “By what you are saying, you mock the High Court and every other world sector!”

  Ikaria tilted her head upward in pride, unmoved by the Emperor’s words. “No, Your Majesty,” she said, her violet eyes flashing, “I am not mocking the other world sectors or the High Court. I am merely suggesting that we renegotiate our treaty with the other world sectors. Or even ask the High Court to reconsider their position on the ancient ways. If this disease is proving to be fatal, such as it has been reported, we need other means for us to survive.” Ikaria gave the Emperor a hard stare with her haughty eyes. “I don’t know about you, Your Majesty, but I, for one, like living.”

  Then, in a sarcastic tone, Ikaria hissed, “Oh, I forgot.” She raised her hands in a sweeping gesture. “The illness only affects the gifted. You wouldn’t know the fear that we are facing.”

  A half smirk appeared on her face, and Cyrus gritted his teeth. “Oh, but I do, Sorceress,” Cyrus sneered. “I fear losing my whole damn court. Some of those gifted are our guards, while others are in important positions. Without them, we would have no enchanted objects, or even our citadel. Need I remind you how this is affecting us all? Or perhaps your thinking has already become too muddled with your fancies about ancient technology!”

  Ikaria was about to counter the Emperor, but Ayera rose from her seat, interrupting. “I will not renegotiate our treaty with the other sectors like you suggest, sister. And I’m certainly not going to ask the High Court to reconsider their position regarding technology unless I wish to welcome a death wish for myself and the rest of World Sector Six.

  “And furthermore, if they had heard you utter such heresy from your lips, they would have had you imprisoned or excommunicated to work the toxic earth below!” Ayera stood on her platform, narrowing her eyes at her sister. “Do you wish to bring calamity to our sector by the use of technology and end up how the ancients did? Because what you are suggesting is just asking for another apocalypse!”

  “Sister, you misunderstand me. I am only trying to give sound reason within this court. I would never dream of defying the High Court.” Ikaria bowed to her sister. “I am suggesting that we send an envoy to the High Court and the other world sectors to raise arguments against the laws in place, in hopes that new laws could be temporarily written to aid us in these dire times. It is hard to imagine that using small amounts of technology could bring on world destruction.”

  Cyrus seated himself, slamming his hand into the throne’s armrest. “No one asked for your opinion, Sorceress.”

  Ikaria glared at Cyrus. “It is my duty as court enchantress to be studied on all forms of magics. And if it is known that this magic is beyond our ability to control, I am forced to advise an alternative. Forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn’t realize my opinion was not needed.”

  “Most of the time your opinions are not needed,” Cyrus reiterated. “I don’t seem to recall ever summoning you to speak in front of the Empress.” His eyes peered at Ikaria with a smug look upon his face. “I had thought you were appointed to speak on the subject of magic, not about the lost art of science. Perhaps, instead of being so enthralled with ancient science, you should learn to tap into your violet power and be of some use to us!”

  His words “use to us” echoed through the halls. Everyone in the court went wide eyed. Cyrus had finally said the unspoken truth. Even Auron couldn’t believe it.

  Auron saw Ikaria holding back her tongue while her narrow eyes lowered to the floor. Her jaw clenched, but otherwise, she made no other movement. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, spitting the words out of her mouth as if they were poison. Without losing composure, she gave Cyrus a hard stare, then bowed, taking her place off to the side of the court once again.

  “Does anyone feel the same as our court sorceress?” He looked all around at the stunned faces. No one spoke; no one dared to defy the Emperor. The halls remained silent. “That’s what I thought.” Cyrus looked over at Auron, casting an invisible net over him with his stare. “High Priest Auron, please proceed.”

  The moment that Auron was dreading had finally come. Cyrus was not in the best of moods, not now that Ikaria had set a sour tone.

  “What say you? Do you have insight to this matter?” Cyrus barked at him. He threw himself back into his throne, letting the back of the fabric embrace him.

  I have nothing to tell him, Auron thought.

  Rubbing his chin with his jeweled fingers, Cyrus continued. “Well?”

  “Your Majesty, I have been meditating on the matter daily, praying fervently for an answer,” Auron started.

  “And?” Cyrus asked eagerly.

  Auron bowed. “I am sorry to report, Your Majesty, that I have had no visions regarding the disease. The same is true with the other yellow-gifted.”

  “So, in other words, nothing. We are losing more of our gifted every day. Every day. Pretty soon, we will have no gifted left in our sector.”

  Cyrus’s eyes simmered; Ayera’s face was downcast. Ikaria glanced in Auron’s direction, giving him a subtle smirk only he could see. Even with her exchange with the Emperor, she had still won the fight against Auron and was gloating in her achievement. She was hellbent on him being miserable. After all, Auron was the one who’d had the vision prophesying who would sit on the throne after their father’s reign. Ikaria blamed both him and the High Court for losing her right to be in the line of succession. Who she should be blaming was herself. Maybe if she truly had faith in the God of Light, she would have been placed on the throne.

  “Auron, please continue to pray,” the Empress said, breaking the awkward silence. “I know that we cannot rush the God of Light. I only hope he answers us before the plague takes all of our gifted’s magic, or their lives. Our very survival depends on our magic. Without it, our way of life will be destroyed,” she said sadly. Turning to address the court with her head held high, she added, “And the same goes to all of the rest of you. I need any and all reports as quickly as possible when the next person is infected.”

  The members of the court bowed at her order in unison.

  “Empress, might I say one thing?” Auron asked.

  All eyes were on him. Whenever he was about to speak, every eye was always on him. They were all afraid if he had a vision that it would prophesy their sins, because most all of the pious peoples were gluttons for worldly desires of the flesh. He had nothing of the sort this time.

  “You may speak.”

  “I can say for certainty, as High Priest of the God of Light, that if we even begin to dabble with the use of machines and technology, as the sorceress suggested, it will bring on our destruction, just like it did two thousand years ago in the Millennium Era. The God of Light has no room for the proud and arrogant peoples that put their faith in the machines. And as to his testament, he obliterated the most advanced world sector, hurling toxic meteors from his heavens to our earth as punishment. The whole earth had to pay for the sins of one world sector. We cannot break our pact again, otherwise others will have to suffer for our sins.”

  “I agree with you wholeheartedly, Auron,” the Empress said, nodding in acknowledgment. “We must learn from our mistakes.” Ayera side-eyed her sister, glaring. “And that is why we must continue to follow in the faith, not in man’s ideals.”

  Ikaria narrowed her eyes at her sister as Auron bowed and returned to his spot.

  “Duke Wellington, please come forth,” Ayera’s voice ordered.
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  A large graying man stepped in front of the Empress. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

  “I need you to assemble our gifted into teams, then rotate them into shifts. When the next word comes around of another infected, I want us to be ready.” The man bowed. “First priority is the yellow on that team. The infected need every bit of prayer that they can get. Have them cast as many spells of protection on the infected. Reds, I need you to soothe their pains with your ice and water. As far as the oranges, they need to stay behind in the citadel. Unfortunately, their power cannot help these matters. If we can’t stop the sweat from taking their magic, perhaps we can stop them from hurting themselves, or dying at the very least.”

  Duke Wellington bowed deeply to the Empress. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will notify you immediately when any of our teams are dispatched.”

  “Thank you, Duke,” said the Emperor.

  “Lord Kohren,” the Empress called out.

  A man appeared before Empress Ayera. He had the same facial features as the sisters. His bright blue irises shone through his slits, and his straight, waist-long, water-blue hair was swept to one side of his shoulders. His robe was sky blue, embroidered with silver designs.

  “Your Majesty.” He bowed. “How can I be of service?”

  “I need you to read any and all manuscripts regarding illnesses, notably ones mentioning magical ailments and plagues. There must be some record in Earth’s history of what happened in prior centuries. I need to know if you come across anything worth reporting.”

  Ikaria flashed her sister a look of protest, but her body remained still.

  Kohren bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. Right away.”

  “If you do happen across something of interest, I will request an audience with the High Court. With enough evidence, they might grant you permission to scry time. There has to be some event that has happened in the past that mirrors our current situation. History often repeats itself.”