Realm of Light

by Deborah Chester

  “Very well,” Anas said. “The truth has been spoken.”

  A surge of heat filled Elandra’s face.

  “How dare you doubt me!” she shouted furiously. “I am not to be tested like one of your novices! You do not command me, Anas!”

  Anas’s blue eyes blazed back at her. “I am the Magria now,” she snapped. “Take care.”

  For a fleeting second Elandra was appalled. “You are the Magria?” she said, heedless of the dismay her voice betrayed. “But she dismissed you from the succession.”

  Resentment flickered in Anas’s blue eyes and was gone. “The former Magria relented,” she said.

  “Oh.” Elandra frowned, trying to absorb this news. “I had not heard that her Excellency had stepped down. When did she—”

  “The former Magria is dead,” Anas said, every word tight and hostile.

  Genuine dismay flashed through Elandra. “Oh, I am sorry!” she said. She had liked the old woman, formidable though she had been. Elandra had suspected that possibly the Magria had liked her. But she and Anas had never found any common ground.

  Even now Anas still stared at her coldly, unappeased by her sympathy.

  Frowning, Elandra tried again. “This is disturbing news. I respected her very much.”

  Stiffly Anas inclined her head. “She was worthy of much respect. She has returned to the dust whence she was made.”

  Elandra made a formal gesture, feeling as though she had lost her last ally. Still, Anas had come in response to her cry for help. She must remember to be grateful for that.

  “Please,” Elandra began. “I must ask—”

  “Silence,” Anas said sharply. She bent and picked up her serpent from the ground. The creature coiled itself around her wrist, and Anas shot Elandra a look of suspicion. “Something is wrong. You are the empress, but you smell of death and shadow.”

  An involuntary sob escaped Elandra before she could control herself. She pressed her hand to her lips, struggling not to hurl herself at Anas’s feet. “The Guardian said I would have to pay a terrible price if he let us leave the realm of shadow. And now—”

  “Wait!” Anas commanded, extending her other hand. “Speak slowly. You have been in the realm of shadow? You have confronted the Guardian?”

  Elandra nodded. “It was a trick. We were supposed to follow Kostimon through the hidden ways—”

  “Ah!” Anas said. “So that is how he escaped from the palace. Kostimon’s blasphemy never stopped.”

  “Caelan got us to the Gate of Sorrows, and then the Guardian ... I was bitten,” Elandra said, her fear spilling from her despite her attempts to stay coherent. “I have the darkness. I am going to die.”

  A strange expression crossed Anas’s face. She stepped closer to Elandra. “Repeat your words,” she said, sounding almost afraid. “What bit you? Did the Guardian send you here?”

  Elandra shook her head. “We were in Trau—”

  “This is Trau. As it can become.”

  Elandra glanced around in fresh horror. “But—”

  “Never mind. Tell me what happened.”

  “A shyriea came out of nowhere. Before Caelan could kill it, it bit me. That is why the witch Hecati brought me here. She offered to take the poison from me if I—”

  Elandra found her voice breaking. Her fear twisted harder inside her, and she could not finish.

  “Look at me,” Anas said.

  Elandra’s eyes were burning. She was on the verge of tears, and she fought them, not wanting to break down in front of Anas.

  “Kill me,” she pleaded. “I would rather pass to the dust than become the living dead.”

  Anas gripped her shoulder. “Look at me,” she commanded again.

  Elandra dashed tears from her eyes, and lifted her gaze obediently. She found neither pity nor condemnation in Anas’s eyes, but instead only concern and brisk competence.

  “Put aside your fear,” Anas said with unexpected gentleness. “Can you look past our personal differences and trust me?”

  Elandra could only stare at her in astonishment at first, then in rising hope. “Can you help me?”

  “If you will trust me.”

  Elandra thought of Caelan, who had held her tightly in the realm of shadows and asked her the same question. How frightened she had been of him then, and yet a part of her knew he would never willingly hurt her. Now she gazed into Anas’s blue eyes and knew this woman was made of the same fiber as the old Magria.

  Something in Elandra relaxed and reached out. “I do trust you,” she whispered, daring to hope. “If you will help me, what must I offer?”

  “Silence!” Anas snapped. “Compassion is not for sale.”

  Intense relief flooded through Elandra. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over. “Thank you!”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Nothing has been accomplished. You will gaze into my eyes, Majesty. You will look into the depths of my eyes and nowhere else. You must not blink. You must not move. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” Elandra said breathlessly.

  “You will empty your mind in the way you were taught. When it is empty of all thought, I will enter. In your time at our stronghold you resisted this. Now it could mean your life. Can you do it?”

  Elandra thought of Caelan, how he had shared with her, how they had become one spirit, one mind. She had resisted him also, but he had shown her there was no loss in such a union, only much to gain.

  She drew a deep breath and met Anas’s gaze. “I will do it,” she replied.

  Anas nodded, and concentration tightened her face. “Begin.”

  At first it was difficult to focus. Elandra’s mind was jumping from one thought to another, refusing to settle, refusing to obey. She held her gaze steadily on Anas’s, thinking of their blue depths as blue topazes, not so very different from her golden one. Anas would help her. All she had to do was try ... and trust.

  Gradually her thumping heart slowed down. She remembered to regulate her breathing. She remembered not to blink. She found herself drawn into Anas’s blue eyes. How clear they were, how compelling and intelligent. They were such a different shade of blue from Caelan’s, flecked with gray and green in the depths. Compassion and kindness lay in their depths, swirling with the colors, reaching out for Elandra so that no longer was she alone, no longer was she aware of the howling wind, no longer was she aware of the ugly, seared landscape of what might be.

  Elandra dropped into a clear, empty place, and Anas slipped into her mind as gently as the warm splash of a summer raindrop. Almost at once she was gone, as though she had never been there.

  Disappointment filled Elandra, shattering her concentration. She drew back physically, blinking hard to hold her composure. “You couldn’t help me,” she said, feeling hope crash from her.

  “I—”

  “Hush,” Anas said, drawing Elandra into her arms and hugging her tightly. She stroked Elandra’s hair as Elandra wept, unable to be strong now. “Hush. Don’t talk. Let the tears cleanse you.”

  But after a few wracking sobs, Elandra’s fear choked off her emotions, and her tears stopped. She clung to Anas a moment, grateful for her kindness, then pushed herself away.

  Bleakly she tried to remember she was the daughter of a warrior. Warriors did not cry. They did not dishonor themselves with cowardice. They faced what had to be done, and they did so quickly.

  “I have no dagger,” she said, fighting the unsteadiness in her voice. “Have you? A knife thrust is the quickest way to end—”

  “Will you kill yourself now that you are cleansed?” Anas asked in amazement.

  At first Elandra did not believe she had heard correctly. Then she lifted her gaze to Anas.

  The Magria gave her a fleeting smile. “It is done.”

  Elandra couldn’t believe it. “But how? You were so quick, I didn’t think it—How?”

  “That is why I am a Magria and you are not,” Anas replied, but for once her arrogance did not offend Elandra. She pointed at t
he ground, where a small black puddle smoked ominously. “It can harm nothing here. But let us not linger in this place, for it can draw things to it that we would rather not meet.”

  “Like the cloud?”

  Anas frowned. “You saw that?”

  “Yes, a terrible, monstrous thing. Hecati sent it after me—”

  “Nonsense! She has no such power,” Anas said in astonishment. “Do you have no recognition of the portents?”

  Elandra stared back in puzzlement. “Then what kind of—”

  “You saw history, wound into a maelstrom,” Anas said impatiently. “The cloud was the lifetime of Kostimon. If it passed by you, it should have taken you up into its center.”

  “It came right at me,” Elandra said. “Then at the last moment it veered away.”

  Anas’s blue eyes widened. “Your destiny has protected you.”

  Before Elandra could respond, the Magria turned and strode away. Elandra hurried after her, feeling hollow and strange inside. A terrible suspicion was spreading through her, one she hardly dared let herself believe. Yet what else could it mean?

  “Kostimon,” she whispered. “Are you saying he is dead?”

  “Yes, he is dead.” Anas sounded almost pleased. “You saw his soul and all his knotted threads of life—the history of his existence—swept away into the darkness. I wish I had been able to witness it.”

  Elandra frowned. She had known it must happen soon, but even so she hardly dared believe it. What she had felt for him had not been love, but she had respected him. She had been in awe of him. She had almost felt—almost—affection for him. In some ways, their minds had been much alike.

  “Dead and gone,” Anas said with satisfaction. “As is Sien the Vindicant—”

  “Sien!” Elandra echoed, and she almost added, Good riddance. But instead she thought of the old Magria, likewise gone. So much had been swept away so suddenly. It made her shiver.

  “What is to befall—”

  “Please be quiet,” Anas broke in, quickening her pace. “I require quiet, Majesty, so that I can take us from here safely.”

  Elandra stifled the rest of her questions. She did not understand why Anas had to be so prickly. Walking as fast as she could, she kept pace with the Magria and wondered how far they would have to go.

  In the next moment, without any warning at all, she was back in the snowy gully.

  Startled, she stumbled and nearly stepped in the stream. The intense cold struck right through her gown and seemed to freeze her face. Huge flakes of snow were falling from a gray, gloomy sky. The air smelled fragrant and fresh, and she drew in several deep lungfuls of it.

  “You did it!” she cried. “Anas, you are wonderful!”

  Again Anas gave her that fleeting smile before looking stern again. “Is it too much to address me with respect, Majesty? I believe you have been thinking we should treat each other as equals.”

  Elandra’s joy was jerked up tight. Hurt and annoyed, she grabbed for imperial composure as a defense. “You must forgive me, Excellency, if I do not take your abilities for granted in the way that you do. I am not yet accustomed to treating them casually. I am sure my admiration will eventually fade.”

  Anas frowned, drawing in a sharp breath, but Elandra gave her no time to speak.

  “As for equality, I think that is fair. It would be pleasant if we could feel comfortable enough with each other to be informal in private, but if that is not possible, I am amenable to maintaining the formal protocols.”

  Anas opened her mouth, but Elandra gathered up her long skirts to keep them from getting wet in the snow and walked toward the cave.

  “Do allow me to offer you shelter. The cave looks humble, but I believe it is considered a place of sanctuary. It is better than standing out here in the wind and snow.”

  With head held high, she swept on ahead of Anas like a grand lady. Anas followed her without a word, although Elandra half expected the Magria to vanish into thin air.

  Once inside the gloomy cave, however, Elandra found nothing welcoming about it. The ice-covered walls gave off a damp chill. There was no fire to warm it, no food or drink to bring back strength, hardly any light to see by.

  Picking up her cloak, Elandra wrapped it around herself and sank wearily to the floor.

  Anas glanced around warily as though she expected something to spring at her from the interior of the cave. “How interesting,” she said at last, tilting her head as she studied the ceiling and ran her fingertips along the ice-coated walls. “One of the famous ice caves of Trau. It is a province known for its many natural wonders. Sanctuary, did you call it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I feel a natural resonance in the earth.” Anas extended her hand as though to press her palm against the wall, then withdrew it. “Very old power is here, an ancient presence like ...” Her voice trailed off thoughtfully. “Did the man bring you here?”

  Elandra looked up.

  “The man in your dreams. Caelan E’non.”

  Heat flamed in Elandra’s face. She looked away hastily, embarrassed by the question. The passion she had felt in those dreams was very private. In her heart she cursed the Penestrican dream walkers who robbed her of her secrets.

  “You are free of your marriage vows,” Anas said. “Have you realized that yet?”

  Elandra’s eyes widened. She was a widow, no longer married, no longer bound to a man she did not love. Her heart suddenly leaped in her chest, and she looked at the mouth of the cave in longing for Caelan’s return.

  “Does he know you love him?”

  Elandra shook her head.

  Anas walked over to her and crouched down beside her. Her hand covered Elandra’s in a brief clasp. “Your feelings are not wrong or forbidden. You think your mother broke her marriage vows for a wanton affair, but this is not true. Iaris was destined to have an affair with Albain. Fate—not her free will—decreed their union. She fought us. She fought him. She fought herself.”

  Elandra stared at the Magria, her eyes wide. “What are you saying?” she whispered.

  “I am saying that it is a time for truth. The veils and mysteries must be swept aside if we are to become united against our common enemy. Your mother is well married. She did not desire the affair which produced you. She was given no choice by the sisterhood.”

  “You mean—”

  “Yes, Elandra. Long before your birth, we cast the future and knew the final empress must be special, must have the strong blood of Fauvina as a forbearer. We sifted through all the lineages and found the necessary combination between your father and mother. The spell was made. The affair happened. You were born.”

  Elandra felt stunned. “Small wonder she never loved me.”

  “Oh, child,” Anas said with sudden emotion, gripping her hand again. “She did not give you up by choice. We commanded that as well.”

  Elandra stared at her a moment, soaking in the revelation, then jerked her hand away from Anas. “Why?”

  “To test you—”

  “Tests!” Elandra said furiously, jumping to her feet. “Always tests. What good are they? Do they make anyone’s life better? Do they help anyone?”

  “You were strengthened and tempered by adversity to prepare you for your destiny.”

  “My destiny was to marry a great man. I have done that,” Elandra shouted at her. “Now what is left but civil war I have little hope of winning? Or should I simply go home to my father’s household and live the rest of my days in a widow’s veil?”

  “Stop reacting emotionally and use your wits,” Anas retorted. “There is more destiny ahead of you, girl. More than you can imagine, if you have the courage to face it.”

  “What?” Elandra demanded. “You said there would be no more mysteries. Tell me all.”

  “It is sometimes better to face life blindly than with knowledge.”

  Elandra gestured impatiently. “Tell me!”

  “According to the visions, you have two possible destinies. Soon you
will come to the fork that determines the course of the world.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “One destiny is this: You will wade in blood. You will wear armor like a man. You will stand atop Sidraigh-hal and watch the destruction of the world.”

  Aghast, Elandra stared at her in horror. “And the other?” she whispered.

  “The second destiny is this: You are chiara kula na, the woman of fire. You will reap the tears of the world.”

  Elandra waited to hear more, but Anas stood silent.

  After a moment Elandra frowned. The first destiny was too horrible to contemplate, and the second destiny made no sense.

  “What does it mean?” Elandra finally asked.

  Anas spread her hands. “That is up to you, and the actions you take.”

  Elandra stared at her. “You aren’t telling me everything. There is more to what you know.”

  Anas hesitated.

  “Tell me! What do I face besides war and destruction? What of Caelan’s destiny?”

  “My visions do not concern men,” Anas said sharply.

  “But does your vision show us together? Or do you intend to keep us apart?”

  She looked at Elandra very hard and said, “The only one who has kept you and Caelan E’non apart has been you. In the past you have been told that fear keeps you from spreading your wings like an eagle.”

  Elandra flushed. She did not like to be called a coward. “Perhaps too many tests create their own bonds,” she muttered.

  “Perhaps,” Anas agreed. “But they are feeble bonds, easily broken. Better you should confront yourself now and work out your own desires before you face what is to come.”

  “And that is?”

  “The portents are very dark,” Anas said. “I will have another vision soon, but all those that have come thus far are frightening. Something terrible is taking shape in our world.”

  “Does Beloth rise?”

  Anas shot her a sharp look as though surprised to hear Elandra speak the god’s name aloud. “Perhaps. But I think it is something we do not yet recognize. Do not look at me thus. I am not withholding information. The visions offer many possible futures, many possible outcomes. Not one only. It is confusing. It is my prayer that the right future will happen.”