by Edun, Terah
Maybe the geometric symbols on the walls will rearrange themselves into words?
She’d meant the thought sarcastically, but she wasn’t too far off. Half a second later, a bright beam of blue light shot out of the memeball struck the center of the wall opposite her.
It was so bright that Ciardis had to shade her eyes as she squinted. The light formed a shimmering square box. As she watched, the symbols on the wall began to fade slowly into the stone. She gasped at what she saw taking the symbols’ place.
Moving images of people were beginning to form on the wall.
The images of people, as vibrant and colorful as a living person, changed frequently. She saw the graceful figure of a woman dancing in a ballroom, and next, a charging swordsman on a field. Both bore the distinct golden eyes of the Weathervanes. The memory ball flowed from scene to scene as each ancestor gain powers many long after their eighteenth birthdays had passed from the age that lined their faces.
She saw a woman in a stolla, a long flowing dress which tied at the nape of nerck, playing with a child near the sea. The woman suddenly crumpled to her knees with her hands splayed in the sand. Her eyes glowed with a yellow as bright as the sun for a few moments, and Ciardis knew that, just like the others, she had transitioned into her powers.
When the next scene appeared, Ciardis walked over to the wall, trying to touch the moving image that looked so real, though it was flat. It’s not the same as Sarah’s multi-dimensional projections, she thought, but it is beautiful.
As she touched the wall it rippled with light, bending away from her finger like small waves in a lake after you skip a rock. She heard another sound coming from the orb behind her and turned quickly to investigate, but before she completed the movement, she was hit with a wave of light and sound so all-encompassing that she fainted.
As she lay on the floor, she dreamed. She dreamed of every ancestor who’d accessed the WeatherVane memeball, and knew their thoughts, their exploits, their dreams, and their histories. When she’d gone through each ancestor’s transition memories, her mind went blank. She drifted in a black aether, nothing before her or around her until she started falling.
When she woke, she felt dirt under her finger tips and a breeze wafting through the air. She opened her eyes, and there stood the woman she’d seen on the beach who’d been playing with the child. Her ancestor. Then Ciardis noticed where she was—or, rather, where she was not.
She was no longer in the room she’d been in earlier. The landscape was flat, dark, and foreboding. It stretched on for miles in either direction with no trees or buildings in sight, just gently waving grass. Even my clothes are different, she realized in shock. She hesitantly touched the loose stolla of the clans, which had replaced the formal day gown she had been wearing.
The woman laughed gently as Ciardis’s cautious eyes turned back to her. “You should not fear me, daughter,” she said. “I am your many times great-grandmother, Artis.”
Ciardis trembled, but said, “My…my name is Ciardis.”
The other woman’s laughter bubbled up again. “Which means ‘Daughter of Artis’ in the Old Tongue! How appropriate!” She clapped her hands, delighted.
Smiling widely, Ciardis curtsied. She hadn’t known that. “Where are we, then, Lady Artis?”
Artis raised her arm to indicate the vast plains. “We are in a memory—a memory of my early life, before I joined the clan of my husband and changed all that I knew. But more importantly, we are in your mind. You have opened the ancestral memeball.”
Ciardis licked her lips. “I have. I have been taken in by the Companion’s Guild. My Patron Hunt is in two weeks, and I have yet to access my powers.”
Artis nodded. “It is the way of our women. Although, it is not always our path to be a lord’s bound companion,” she continued with a teasing smile, “I was—am—Warrior Leader for my clan, as well as acConsort.”
Ciardis raised her chin, determined not to be cowed. “That may be so, milady, and I hope to achieve such a rank one day. But I grew up poor and orphaned, often without food, and with little privacy.”
Artis sighed. “Yes, your childhood was unfortunate…and it is your decision to move forward. But we have little time left. You have viewed the transition memories of your ancestors, yes?”
“Indeed I have,” replied Ciardis, meeting her eyes.
“Good,” Artis replied. “Now, realize that they are but memories—no more, no less. But some of the visions might come in handy in the future.” She extended both her hands towards Ciardis, palms up. “Place your palms in mine.”
When their skin touched, it was as if their two minds became one. Ciardis could feel Artis flitting through her mind, tugging on core memories. When she questioned her, all she got was a gruff, “This will strengthen your defenses when the time comes.”
Ciardi saw how her ancestors would use their power of enhancement to tap into the mage core’s of their chosen partners. On the battlefield they presented formidable foes – not only increasing the power of the other person’s magic but allowing them to fine tune their attacks. Ciardis saw an orb of battlefire held until the precise moment and then flung at the target with such force and power that eliminated a legion upon impact. In another vision, she saw a companion enhance soft and subtle lilt of a musician’s voice as it soared over a dinner party at an elegant townhome.
After a long while, Artis said in a tired whisper, “There, my dear. I’ve unlocked your gift. I can’t do any more tonight. Come back for lessons, yes?”
Her voice grew softer with each passing word, until she had disappeared from the landscape, and Ciardis drifted away, as well.
Hours later, Ciardis awakened on the cold stone floor.
She groaned at the ache in her head. Lifting her fingers tentatively, she touched a stream of liquid running down the curve of her cheek. Bringing her fingertips to her eyes, she squinted and then stared in horror at what was clearly blood. She traced the path to her earlobe. She’d bled from her ears at some point.
As she rose steadily, she felt…alive. Her whole body was astir with energy. She could even see blue lightning streaks zapping through the walls all around her.
Across from her, a doorway appeared—or, rather, a section of the wall outlined in white disappeared. On the other side of the new opening was a four-poster bed in a small room. Stumbling towards it, she saw a washbasin on a corner pedestal with fresh water and a small bundle on the bed. Ciardis grimaced as she entered the room; her eyes were playing funny tricks on her. She kept seeing glimmers of light shining out of the corners of her eyes, and whenever she looked directly at an object, it blazed with power.
Even the plain porcelain washbasin glittered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to stick her hands into the water, but her disgust with the blood dripping down her face won the contest. As she wiped her face with the towel beside the basin, she saw the bloody water that she’d squeezed into the bowl magically clear itself. Fresh water appeared without a drop of red to mar its surface. Handy, that.
After moving over to the bed, she picked up a note that sat beside a cloth-wrapped bundle.
The first experience with new mage powers can be unsettling. For a few hours you will be seeing the mage spells tied into each object and person around you. The sensation will soon fade.
Rest well and welcome to your powers.
~The Companion’s Council
Putting the note aside, she turned to the cloth-wrapped bundle. Inside, she discovered a small, golden ankle bracelet. She handled it gingerly. The bracelet, with its intricate links and delicate moonstone and sapphire gems, was probably worth more than she would make in a year once she’d signed her contract. On the bed beside the bracelet lay a note.
Ciardis, this is a gift from one of your prospective patrons upon a successful transition. Your first gift
! Treat it with significance.
—Serena.
Then Serena’s handwriting disappeared, and different handwriting ghosted in to replace it.
You hold a moonstone and sapphire bracelet. It will allow you to transfer your mind and body into the Aether Realm between the mundane world and Heaven. May your journey be fair.
Scratch that, Ciardis thought ruefully. It’s worth ten times what I’ll make in my best year—any jewelry with a connection to the Aether Realm is. She knew from reading the biographies her patrons that two of them had the means to casually purchase such a trinket for a stranger, two had the magical skills to create such a bracelet, and one had both the means and magic to do it himself. She wondered which one it was—the successful viscount or the general?
She sat down and thought about the Aether Realm itself. It wasn’t truly another realm in the sense of the Gods’ Heaven; it was merely a plane of existence that could be accessed only by mages. It was said to be a battlefield of magical games and untold mysteries. Ciardis sniffed with disdain. She had enough mystery going on just picking out the patron she’d spend the rest of her life with! She didn’t need magical games added on top of that.
But then, the man had paid a considerable sum, magical or coin, to get this bracelet for her. Although it could also be Princess Heir Marissa, thought Ciardis with some dismay. She had no problem with women per say, she just didn’t know how to date one. Maybe she’s looking for a strictly platonic relationship?
Either way whichever patron it turned out to be would expect her to greet them properly and thank them for the gift. And there was only one way to do that. She knew it would be perceived as a personal insult to the Patron if she didn’t wear the bracelet and meet that person or their epresentative in the Aether. Finally, she shrugged, thinking with sarcasm, Some people take their dates on pleasant river cruises; the nobility of Sandrin take you on potentially dangerous trips to an invisible realm.
She shuddered; she was no fool. She knew the bracelet came with a downside. Although pretty to look at, she couldn’t control the gemstones. They would deliver her to a programmed location and deposit her back here, if programmed to do so, after a set time. She didn’t like walking into something unknown, but in this case, she had to—Serena had made that clear by giving her the bauble. The Aether bracelet had been accepted by the Companion’s Guild, and would be treated with respect as a cherished memento. Taking hold of the bracelet, Ciardis sat on the bed, reached down to lift her dress, and slid it on over her ankle.
For a moment, nothing happened…and then she was once more engulfed in darkness.
Chapter 9
This time when she awoke, it felt like more than just the visions that had come with activating the memory ball. This time it was if her body had been transported alongside her mind, into the Aether realm. In fact, she was fairly sure that was exactly what had happened. She pinched herself; she couldn’t believe she was actually here – mind, body and soul. She looked around and sunlight pierced her eyes, streaming down through a fall canopy of changing leaves, clad in the red, gold, and brown of late autumn and early winter. She shivered as she hugged her arms close to her body.
Wherever she was, it wasn’t anywhere near Sandrin. She knew that the Aether Realm mimicked the geography of the mundane realm, but this place didn’t feel familiar. Judging by the climate and rolling landscape, it lay somewhere between the cold, windswept mountains of Vaneis and the oceans off Sandrin. Great trees rose far above her, and a cold breeze rippled through the air as crisp, colorful leaves trembled and fell to the ground. The courting dress she wore was no protection against the cool weather here.
She turned around and around, looking for another soul. This is real, Ciardis thought, but where is my suitor? Am I supposed to know where to go? Irritated, she hiked up her dress and shook her foot to wake up the bracelet. She muttered fiercely to it, “You know, I could use some help here. Hello? Wake up, you silly thing. There’s no one here. Take me back.”
There was no response.
Suddenly, her flesh began to rise in goosebumps; she was being watched. She looked up and saw him. There, on the crest of a nearby hill, stood a young man. He was dressed for a hunt—an expensive one, by the looks of it. A few years younger than she—three would be her best guess—he clutched a crossbow in his hands. His hair was soot-black and his tunic a brilliant green. He kept his eyes focused directly on Ciardis as he approached. He had an arrow drawn into a bow but tilted downward at the moment. He held it tightly, as if he were ready to shoot her at any second.
She noticed that his eyes were as green as his tunic. “You there! Who are you?” he shouted at her as he approached Ciardis. “How did you get here?”
Ciardis scowled at him as he made his way over to her. What kind of greeting is that? she thought with disdain, And who is this foolish boy? Whoever he is, he needs to get lost now. I need to prepare for my Patron. As she straightened her shoulders and prepared to give the brat a tongue-lashing, she thought with excitement, I’ll bet my Patron is General Barnaren! He must be waiting for me in the glade off to the east. It’ll be so romantic. Perhaps he’s prepared a picnic for the two of us.
Turning her mind back to the boy in front of her, she noted with some admiration that he held the weapon with some surety. He knows how to use it, then, she thought. Despite the weapon in his hands and his fine clothes, he reminded her of the tanner’s boy who’d boasted of a big kill after the autumn hunt two years ago. The whole village had known it was his mother who’d taken down the stag, but still he strutted around with a puffed chest and enough bravado to make a rutting elk wince in embarrassment. Although, he slight tremble in the boy’s arms was a small sign of his anxiety.
Calmly, she said, “I could ask you the same question.” To put him at ease, she continued, careful to leave out certain details, as she didn’t want the boy to know a powerful General was waiting for her. “My name is Ciardis. I put on an ankle bracelet, and here I am. And you?”
He lifted his bow and pointed it straight at her chest. “It doesn’t matter who I am.” He warily lowered the weapon as he said, “Did you say a bracelet?”
“Yes,” she said, exasperated. She lifted up her dress and wiggled her ankle to show off the pretty ornament fastened to her leg. He didn’t look like he believed her. If fact, she was sure he didn’t believe her, as he had raised the crossbow once more. “You daft-brained boy,” Ciardis scolded, “Don’t be so hasty with that weapon. I’ve told you what I know.”
He didn’t lower the bow this time, “That bracelet is a gift that I entrusted to my senior armsman. Only a Weathervane should have it.”
Ciardis shouted, “I’m the Weathervane, you git! At least, I’m a Weathervane. And if you expect me to believe that you are my Patron, you have another thing coming. There are no boys in my Hunt.”
He stared at her, seemingly aghast at her impertinence, and finally lowered his bow. “Whether or not you believe the bracelet belongs to me is immaterial,” he said arrogantly with a curl of his lip. “I don’t know how you got that bracelet, gypsy girl, but rest assured that you are not who it was intended for.”
Ciardis snarled, ready to smack the boy; she wasn’t exactly elated with hiscondescending tone, and was even less so when he muttered to himself, “A fool peasant. I’ve lost all chance, then.”
“Hey, now!” snapped Ciardis. “I may be of common stock, but I’m no fool. And if you weren’t so drecking rude, I’d—”
Before she could finish her statement, a four men came out of the forest, surrounding Ciardis and the boy on all sides.
Ciardis gasped in astonishment. “Where did they come from?”
More quietly, she conceded, This Aether Realm is not as empty as I thought it would be.
Forgetting Ciardis for the moment, the boy turned so that they stood side-by-side, facing t
he new arrivals together. The fact that he immediately turned his loaded crossbow on the man to the north told her that he was either a deranged idiot who threatened anyone he came across, or that he knew this man. “Mace,” the boy beside her snarled.
Yes, he knows him, Ciardis thought. At least it’s not just me he threatens to kill on a moment’s notice.
“My Lord Prince,” said the young man addressed with a mocking bow, “You should know better than to wander outside the palace grounds alone.”
The man to their east snickered, and when Ciardis looked at him, she could see a glint of cruelty on his pudgy face. She wasn’t sure she liked this at all.
“And you should know never to show your face where I can shoot it,” said the black-haired man with an aplomb that Ciardis had to give him credit for. He was handling this situation with more composure than she thought such a young boy surrounded on all sides would have. “What are you and your goons doing in the Aether Realm?” he demanded.
Mace stared at them, “Why, we’re looking for you, Sebastian.” He raised his hands in a mocking gesture, laughing. “What else would we be doing here?”
The man her left side, at the west point, chimed in, “Truly, Prince Sebastian. You failed the talent tests. It’s nothing personal.”
“Speak for yourself,” said the man behind them. “That snot-nosed brat has been a thorn in my side ever since he joined the Ruling Council in his father’s stead.”
“Glad to know you adore me so, Varden,” Sebastian replied sarcastically without turning around. “Makes me proud, it does.” Ciardis glanced at Sebastian, surprised at the banter, but didn’t turn around to face Varden behind them.
