Blaze (Tranquility)

by Krista D. Ball

  “Divine Power, cloak my tower. Divine way, blind her sight may. Divine all, grant it all.”

  The tingle of Magic flickered deep within her core. She focused on growing the imaginary light inside her.

  “Divine Power, cloak my tower. Divine way, blind her sight may. Divine all, grant it all.”

  Her heart pounded faster. Her breath ragged as she struggled to maintain her concentration. In the last seven hours, the spell had failed four times because she did not focus. She would not make that mistake now.

  The Magic surged through her limbs, threatening to rip her apart like a husk of corn. Warmth then heat surrounded her. She dared not open her eyes and risk losing the moment.

  “Divine Power, cloak my tower. Divine way, blind her sight may. DIVINE ALL, GRANT IT ALL!” She screamed out the words.

  Then, there was nothingness.

  Sarissa dared only to open her eyes. The world had been replaced by a white haze. No up. No down. Just the fog of blankness surrounding her and the steady thumping of her heart.

  Gathering together the courage to risk breaking the spell, she looked down. She was wearing clothes. Sarissa smiled. The spell had worked.

  “Mother? Are you here?” She hoped her protection spell was strong enough to hide her mind from her mother.

  “Sarissa,” an emotionless voice echoed, bouncing around the fog as though it were rock.

  A glowing light appeared, hovering in the distance. An hour-glass figure stepped away from it. Around the woman glowed the brightness of a Goddess in her true form. The woman approached.

  Apexia.

  Mother.

  “Hello,” Sarissa said, surprised at the fluttery emptiness in her stomach. No one should fear their own mother.

  When Apexia emerged fully from the light, Sarissa noted that her mother’s hair was still the same strawberry color. Sarissa’s own hair had darkened over the years. Grey now speckled her own copper locks. Her mother’s, however, resembled a child’s. She did not have to look her age. She didn’t live in exile. She had not been banished to die.

  Anger welled up in Sarissa as she stared at her mother’s blank expression. Her mother, like Bethany, had it too easy. They thought exile was kindness, not knowing or caring the torture Sarissa would face. She could not steal Power from her mother yet, but someday…

  You’re not dead, so why are you here?

  A chill surged through Sarissa’s body as her mother’s words echoed in her mind. And yet her mother had not spoken aloud. Sarissa gathered her energy tighter, enforcing the protection spell. Any unfocused thoughts might cause it to break, letting her mother see into her mind. But it exhausted her, and Sarissa fought the trembles that danced through her body.

  Sarissa forced a smile, struggling not to appear surprised.

  “I came to see you. We haven’t spoken in some time.”

  Apexia stared, her gaze cold and hard. We haven’t spoken because you are tainted.

  “Come, mother, do you wish to quarrel on such a happy day? And this is a happy day.” Sarissa sported a mock frown, though it wasn’t all fake. The tiny part of her, the part that had once been a little girl, ached for approval once again. But that world was gone now. It would not be coming back. “Please respect me enough to talk out loud.”

  Apexia took a deep breathing and raised her chin. Precious seconds ticked away between them, inching them closer to when the Magic energy would fade. Sarissa assumed that it was seconds. Did time even exist on the wind?

  “The only day I will find happiness is when you give up your spells,” Apexia spoke. “Bethany showed you mercy by insisting you not be executed and how have you repaid your sister? By killing her betrothed and protector. Viper.“

  Sarissa’s frown turned genuine. Pacing around her mother in the bottomless mist, she said, “You have never understood me. It’s always about her. Bethany this. Bethany that. The only time you ever spoke my name was to chide me.”

  Apexia’s nostrils flared but she relaxed the muscles in her face just as fast. “Bethany said the same thing about you. She used to complain about how you were my favorite. She would get so jealous whenever Aneese or Torius paid more attention to you. I suppose that doesn’t matter to you anymore, though. Your mind is so thick with rage that all sense and logic have escaped you.”

  Sarissa stared, dumbfounded. No one had ever told her that her twin envied her. No witty response, no jab came. She could only stare and wonder.

  “When it became clear that the daughter with Power was the Diamond, all of us made a conscious effort to lavish attention on you. Torius’s sister raised you and loved you like her own. Aneese took you under her wing. Torius spoiled you. Jovan’s parents couldn’t handle Bethany and they dumped her back at the temple. She had no one to look after her, the way you did. You were never forgotten the way she was. But all you cared about was how Bethany was born with Power and how you were born nothing more than a weak mortal and that’s all you will ever be.”

  A heaviness settled in Sarissa’s gut. She fought her insignificance. “That is a lie. I never cared that Bethany had Power. I learned Magic to protect her and it got me exiled.”

  Apexia shook her head. “Your life was so much easier than hers, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted it all.”

  An aura of Power and majesty surrounded her mother. It always had and Sarissa became aware once more of her own smallness. She looked around to avoid the harsh stare of her mother’s eyes. They were green and reminded her of Bethany’s condescending glare. Being on the wind stirred Sarissa’s emotions, making them base and raw and as open as any book. Since being on the wind, her thoughts and feelings emerged freely, screaming to be heard and expressed.

  Since being on the wind…

  Sarissa looked back at her mother. This was the plane of the dead. The home of the gods. Reason pulled at her and she regained focus. “Well played, Mother. You’re hoping I will run out of energy and be stuck in this forgotten realm with you.”

  Apexia pressed her lips together. “I have no designs to litter our haven with your putrid spirit. When you die, I will ensure that your spirit dies with you. You are disrupting the peace of the dead. These people earned their right to exist in the calmness and I’ll not permit you to torture them with your presence. Speak your nonsense and be gone.”

  Sarissa inclined her head. A small rush of respect flooded her; she would’ve behaved the same if their positions had been reversed. Like mother, like daughter perhaps. “I’ve come to tell you two things. First, I’m cured of the Magic sickness.”

  Apexia raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. A little Rygent girl taught me how to overcome the sickness. I’m teaching it to all of my followers.”

  Apexia’s stoic stance cracked. Her jaw slacked and her big eyes widen even more. With a softer tone, she said, “If you are indeed better, surely you see why giving up the Magic is the right thing to do.”

  Sarissa laughed. “Mother, please. You sound like Father Torius. I don’t practice Magic because I need to. I practice it because I want to.”

  Lightening crackled around them, breeching realities. Images of Sarissa’s cottage flashed around them. Indistinguishable sounds stirred in the air. Onion soup wafted through the air.

  “Your spell is broken. You’ve disrupted us long enough. Do not return again.”

  Sarissa held on with the last drops of energy that coursed through her veins. She needed to aim the final arrow. “I know that I am not the Viper.”

  Apexia’s shocked expression faded with the return of mortal reality. Back in her cottage, naked and cold, Sarissa collapsed on her forearms, straw and small pebbles digging into her naked skin. She vomited from the overwhelming exhaustion that overtook her.

  Strong arms picked her up. It was Robert. He wrapped both a blanket and his strong limbs around her. He had a damp cloth ready and wiped her face with it. She tried to smile. It was too much effort.

  “Shh, you’ll be fi
ne,” he whispered, rocking her. “You scared me. You were in the trance for nearly two days.”

  She winced. “Days?”

  He pushed a wooden mug to her lips. Steam hit her face. “Onion broth. Drink it. You need strength.”

  Sarissa sipped the warm liquid. It only seemed like minutes had passed, not a day. She looked around the cottage. The altar had been scrubbed clean and the bodies of her sacrifices removed. Corpses were of no use to her anyway; it was the dying energy that she stole. If her mother had her way, Sarissa would have starved to death.

  No wonder she was exhausted.

  “I made an entire pot and I expect you to drink it all. Did the spell work at least?” Robert asked as he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He stepped back to grab her soup.

  Heavy though it was, she nodded her head, the movement plaguing her with dizziness. “Yes. And so it begins.”

  ***

  Lady Bethany, we have no news to report. We cannot find any information on the man that contracted Bernard’s printing press. From what we can tell, there has been no Magic activity in Orchard Park lately. Traditional signs of Magic use, including increased animal corpses, missing livestock, and missing prostitutes, are not present. Our best guess is that our Magi is no longer here or has gone so deep into the underground that not even our contacts can reach him.

  Bethany reread this part of Erem’s letter four times before deciding that she wasn’t dreaming. It took six more reads before she was convinced that she really had no idea what to do. She believed this unknown man was still in Orchard Park, waiting for the knights to fall back and give him space to spread his venom. It was no accident that the prophecies appeared after Garran’s murder. Somehow, this man was receiving instructions from Sarissa. Bethany was sure of it.

  The knights have retrieved sixty-four of the ninety copies of the “Prophecy of the Diamond.” We have been unable to locate the remaining copies thus far. To further complicate matters, the people are demanding to know why we are confiscating the writings. There is still debate on what the pages actually mean. Some of the philosophers believe that this “prophecy” is a part of a greater scheme of the clergy to hide information from them. A play examining the origins of the “prophecy” and the identity of the people involved took place in the market square this afternoon.

  Bethany felt the walls around her close in and she unsuccessfully fought the dread that crept inside her. Torius had told her that she was fretting over nothing. Convinced that it would blow over, he recommended the knights removed from Orchard Park to let the Black Hand assassins kill the traitor in whatever cesspool he was currently hiding.

  The plan had merit, but Allric agreed that the texts were simply too dangerous in the hands of common folk. Without the entire texts available to them, not to mention dismal literacy skills, they might draw their own conclusions. Riots could break out against the clergy. It would be too easy to label innocents as the Viper. Hundreds might be killed as scapegoats. It was too much of a risk.

  The reaction of the people came as no surprise to her. Jovan had said he didn’t understand, but she did. Common folk, who spent their days toiling and scratching to make a copper bit to feed their families, wanted – needed – to believe that their leaders were good. They needed the rule of order to find sense in their own pathetic existence. Add the promise of a world without clergy and armies because one of them had been touched by a goddess, and the risk of revolt became very real.

  She would’ve reacted the same way, angry and betrayed. However, their anger was a small price to pay in the light of losing innocent lives and political instability. Not to mention her own personal losses if she was discovered. How would she even continue serving as Lady Champion when people would consider her an extension of their Goddess?

  Worse, if they discovered she was a half-goddess, how would she trust anyone once the fortune hunters discovered she was as susceptible to a dagger in the gut as the next mortal?

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  Arrago’s voice jolted Bethany out of her thoughts. She looked up from the scattered papers and scrolls on her desk at his long, lean body standing in her doorway. He was tolerably handsome. Not just for a human, but for any man. A little pang of memory from her vision pricked her. He was dangerous like no man she’d ever known.

  She gave him a mockingly hard glare and asked, “How long have you been standing there?”

  He stepped into her study. “Long enough to figure out why you’re so behind in your paperwork.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. Work was a safe topic.

  “Please share. Anything to break up this mind-numbing tedium,” she said, motioning to an adjacent chair. Since the incident in the training room, both tried to be as casual as possible. For Bethany, at least, the memory of his body pressed against hers was still too fresh to forget. She wasn’t even certain she wanted it to fade away. “I find it helps to sign the documents as opposed to staring at them until you go cross-eyed.”

  “Is that how you do it? No wonder I’m behind.” Bethany yawned and rubbed her temples. “I’ve signed hundreds of these requests today and I don’t feel any further ahead. I can’t even remember most of what I’ve read. How did I survive without you? I believe you are the first aide that’s actually, well, aided me.”

  A shy smile spread across his lips and he averted his eyes to fiddle with one of her signed letters. “That’s what both friends and aides do.”

  She returned the smile. He offered so much calmness to her day; never angry, never nervous. She could not imagine surviving the madness around her without his soothing balm of a smile.

  Bethany groaned at her own thoughts. She decided what she really needed was a week of sleep, followed by several Eastern-style massages.

  “I have to pass on training again tonight,” she said. The awkward shift of his body hinted that he was suddenly embarrassed, as though those words brought up the very thing that had happened the last time. She cleared her throat, banishing the memory of him within kissing distance. “I know I’ve cancelled most of our training the last two weeks, but I have a commitment tonight. Master-at-arms Henry agreed to fill in for me again.”

  “What will you be doing?” He asked, trying to look casual. He failed.

  “Beating my friends senseless,” she said, beaming. “We get together a few times a year and have a little competition to see who’s still the best fighter. It’s immature I know but things are too tense. We could use a little harmless distraction.”

  “Is it because of those prophecies?”

  Bethany took a deep breath and frowned. “You’ve heard.”

  “Everyone’s heard. I read it to several of the laundry girls…” He hesitated. “Before the knights took the sheets from me.”

  She shifted in her chair. “The clergy have concerns about these supposed prophecies. They want to study them.”

  “How can you be so calm! They are about Apexia’s daughter! Everyone’s heard rumors that she had children. But this is proof! It’s so excit –” He stared at her, eyes narrowed.

  She flinched at his accusatory gaze.

  “You already knew about them, didn’t you?”

  Caught.

  “I’ve been aware,” she chose her words carefully, “of the rumors concerning Apexia’s children. Obviously, I have not proof these children even exist so I don’t see the need to form an opinion of them.”

  He shook his head and threw his hands in the air. “Bethany! The blessed children of our Goddess may be in our midst and you have no opinion?”

  Fear gripped her, but she maintained a faint smile and light tone. “How would these people affect your life?”

  “You are impossibly cynical.” He leaned forward. “They would be representatives of their mother. They could speak for her. A child of the Goddess would be revered. There would be no need for clergy. The children would be our clergy.”

  His words stabbed her heart. Deep in her soul, she knew this was th
e true reason for keeping the prophecies a secret. With her and her siblings, the clergy would fade into the mists. She wanted them as much as they wanted her hidden. The arrangement worked.

  “I like our priests and sisters. They’re good people.”

  “Of course they are, but I’d give my life to meet a child of Apexia.”

  Be careful what you wish for, Arrago.

  Tears threatened her. She jumped to her feet and walked to her side table. To pour a glass of wine meant turning her back on Arrago. She took advantage of both the undiluted alcohol and the opportunity to fight off an emotional breakdown. Her muscles clenched, sending a shiver through her body.

  “Bethany?” She heard his chair scrape against the stone floor.

  She sniffed back the defeated tears. It had been too long since she had cried. She wasn’t ready and certainly not with Arrago in the room. “A sudden headache. If you don’t mind, I’d like to sit alone for a while.”

  “Are you certain?”

  She nodded frantically. She needed him away from her.

  “I’ll see if I can find you some food.”

  Once the door to her study snapped shut, she walked back to her desk and sat down. There were no words to comfort her. Arrago had opened a pit of emptiness in her that no amount of wine could fill. Her vision had been wrong. She would be nothing more than a religious figure to him. A thing to revere.

  That hurt more than she expected. There would never be a return of affection. Never. Only his worship. She’d rather die than accept that.

  An open letter on her desk caught her attention, scrawled in a familiar handwriting. It had not been there before her talk with Arrago. She slapped her hand over her mouth, holding back the horror as she read the words:

  Sorry about killing Garran. Love, Sissy.

  Chapter 14

  The Diamond must be brave and take a sword to her fear. The death of her fear is the death of the Viper.