Realm of Light

by Deborah Chester

  “You’re his scapegoat,” she finished, hating Tirhin to the depths of her soul. “That pathetic coward!”

  “He has outmaneuvered us.”

  “No!” she said fiercely. “I won’t submit to him. I won’t! I don’t care what the Lord Commander’s orders are, you will not go back to Imperia in chains. You must escape.”

  “I will not run away.”

  “Then fight—”

  Caelan touched her hair, stroking it. Resignation lay in his face. “And give them an excuse to destroy your father? Why should I sacrifice a piece of myself to heal him, only to bring about his execution now?”

  She let out a sigh then, struggling not to cry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I keep saying the wrong things. I haven’t even thanked you properly for what you did before—”

  “Hush,” he said softly into her hair, resting his chin on top of her head.

  She slapped tears from her eyes, angry at herself for being so emotional. “I never used to cry like this. I used to have control.”

  “If you had no fears now, I would not trust you,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “Do you still hate me?”

  She shook her head and hugged him tightly, trying to become part of him, unwilling to let him go.

  Finally he pulled away, loosening her fingers when she held onto him. “We must face this,” he said. “We must be brave for the others’ sake.”

  “I don’t want to be brave!” she cried. “I don’t want to lose you!”

  Voices carried through the palace. Hearing them, she stiffened and tightened her grip on Caelan. Everything was ending. She could not bear this.

  “Oh, my love,” she whispered brokenly, sobbing freely now. “I cannot give you up. I love you so much—”

  He kissed her, deeply, possessively, until her thoughts were spinning and she was drowning in the emotions he wrought in her.

  “We are one,” he said, cupping her chin between his hands. His eyes held hers, although her tears caused her view of his face to blur. “We shall always be one. Believe that, my dearest, no matter what befalls us.”

  “Empress!” called a voice from the room within.

  Elandra turned that way, then glanced over the railing of the balcony. They were trapped. She still could not accept this defeat. Her heart raged at the injustice of it. She did not know how Caelan could be so calm.

  “Compose yourself,” Caelan urged her softly. “Let them see an empress.”

  “I am a woman,” she protested, sniffing and trying to dry her eyes, “and I am losing all I hold dear.”

  “We are not defeated yet,” Caelan said.

  “And when I am married at spear point to that traitor?” she retorted in fresh fury. “When I am forced to his bed? Will you be so calm and able to speak of strategy and—”

  “Majesty.” A soldier appeared, one of her father’s men. “Compliments of Lord Albain, and will you please go to your apartments? I am to escort you there personally.”

  Elandra opened her mouth, but Caelan took her hand.

  “Come,” he said. “I will walk with you there. Your father wants you to wait for them with dignity.”

  His voice and gaze were filled with warning. Elandra did not want to go, but he was right. All that she had left now was her pride, and if even it was failing her, then she must pretend to have it.

  Alti and Sumal were waiting for her at her apartments, looking big-eyed and worried. Caelan opened the door for her and led her inside.

  “Make your preparations,” he said. “Be ready for whatever comes.”

  She felt her lips tremble anew. “Can’t we—”

  “Remember that I love you. As long as the gods give me breath and the strength of my arm, I swear I will not fail you.”

  He kissed her, grave and unhappy, and went out.

  As the door shut behind him, she buried her face in her hands. She wept long and bitterly, feeling the sourness of defeat. Everything she had hoped for, everything she had planned for, was ending. She could feel the hand of Fate on her, and she hated it. What was the good of wearing a crown and having people call you Majesty, if in the end you were only a pawn in a larger political game, to be pushed here and pushed there? She would have been better off to have spent her days still doing the mending and scrubbing floors.

  A faint noise brought her out of her misery. She looked up, frowning, and turned around.

  She saw a large sack of coarse homespun lying on the floor. Its bulging contents shifted and moved. Another faint noise, almost like a whimper, came from within.

  Elandra held her breath a moment, then approached it cautiously. Drawing her knife, she wondered if it was a trap placed here by her enemies. There had been attempts made on her life before. This sack could hold anything from a bundle of cobras to a demon.

  But she thought—she hoped—it held something else. She decided to take the chance.

  With her knife, she slashed across the sack, slitting the cloth, then jumped back.

  Nothing happened at first; then an eye peered cautiously out. She caught a glimpse of golden skin and knew swift disappointment.

  It wasn’t the jinja she’d hoped for.

  She stepped back and put away her knife, intending to call Alti to take it away.

  But a small hand reached through the slit and ripped it wider. A head emerged, swiveling around to reveal a triangular face, dainty pointed teeth, large defiant eyes, and pointed ears.

  It was a jinja, after all, but she had never seen one that wasn’t green. This one climbed out of the sack and crouched there, clearly wild and terrified. Its gaze darted in all directions, and nothing reassured it.

  There should have been handlers. There should have been some preparations, a bit of initial training to the creature to gentle it prior to the bonding. She did not know where or how Alti had managed to get one captured from the wild on such short notice, but he had.

  Now that it was out in the sunlight that streamed in through her windows, she could see that its golden skin had a greenish undertone. It was much smaller than the usual jinja, not even reaching to her waist. She wondered if it was fully grown.

  “Little one,” she said softly, reaching out her hand.

  The jinja panicked. Screaming, it zigzagged about the room, darting madly, knocking over furniture and objects, leaping at the windows like something crazed, only to fall back into the room as the screens held.

  Panting, it lay on the floor and moaned to itself.

  Elandra dared not approach it, fearing it would go into another frenzy and do itself serious harm. Not knowing what else to do, she drew out her topaz and held it up so that the light could shine on it.

  “Jinja,” she said softly, crooning to it, “golden like this jewel, golden in my chosen colors. Good jinja, rare and valued jinja, brought to me as an omen in this day of trial and sore need.”

  The creature rose up on its haunches, its gaze fastened on the jewel, which had begun to shine. The topaz seemed to gentle it, mesmerize it, exactly as it had done to the dragon.

  “I will not hurt you,” Elandra said to the creature. “I will keep you fed. I will give you pretty things. You will sense the magic for me. You will keep it from doing me harm.”

  The jinja swayed, its large eyes glowing. It reached out one hand. “Give rock.”

  “The topaz is mine,” Elandra said with gentle firmness. “And you will be mine. My possessions are together, close, but I am mistress of them. Come and bond with me, pretty jinja.”

  She put away the topaz, and the jinja hissed in disappointment. Angrily it bounded away. Elandra sighed and settled herself in a chair, forcing herself to pretend patience she did not feel.

  Finally, after tearing apart a pillow and scattering the stuffing everywhere, it came back to her and crouched just out of reach.

  It stared at her long and hard. She stared back. She could feel magic crawling about the room, but whether it came from the jinja or from another source she did not know.


  “Hurt me,” the jinja said, eyes flashing.

  “The trapper? I am sorry. You have been frightened too. You are far from your jungle temple and the caves which should have kept you safe.”

  The jinja drew back and rocked itself, looking awed.

  “Yes, I know of your home,” Elandra said. “I am very great among the humans. I have much consequence. You will have consequence too. Everyone will see how pretty you are, because you are mine. Will you bond with me?”

  “Bonding mean serve.”

  “Yes.”

  “Trapper make do. Trapper hurt.”

  “If you will not bond, I will not force you,” Elandra promised. “If you will riot bond, I will have you released back into the jungle.”

  “No!” the jinja said in alarm. “Not safe. Danger!”

  Elandra thought of the fleeing animals and birds. “Are you safer with me?” she asked, and again held out her hand.

  The jinja tilted its head to one side and studied her a long time. Then it glided closer, its tiny feet not even touching the ground.

  “You bond with wild jinja? No tame. No sorcerer touch.”

  “I need help,” Elandra said. “I need a good jinja to serve me and protect me.”

  The creature bared its pointed teeth conceitedly. “I best jinja. Best!”

  “Then we are together?” Elandra asked it.

  The creature took her hand and lifted her fingers to its face. It began to hum, a sweet eerie sound that vibrated through Elandra’s bones. She shut her eyes, trying not to fear the sound. A peculiar feeling washed in and out of her, and the humming stopped.

  She opened her eyes and found the jinja crouched at her feet, its face against the floor. It was trembling. Concerned, Elandra bent over and stroked its bare back gently.

  “Are you still afraid?” she asked it. “I’m sorry.” This wasn’t going to work. The creature would have to be set free, discreetly so no one else would catch it. “I’ll tell Alti to let you go.”

  The jinja jumped up fiercely, eyes flashing. “No go! No go! You promise good eats, pretty eats! You promise.”

  Elandra laughed. “All right. If you’re going to stay with me—” “Bonded now. No leave.”

  “Oh,” Elandra said in surprise. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

  The jinja scampered away and kicked at the torn bits of cushion. “I punished?”

  “Not this time. Only if it happens again.” The jinja shook itself rapidly and scratched its ears. “Maybe.” Laughing again, Elandra rose to her feet. But before she took two steps, the jinja darted over to her and clung to her hard. “What is it?” Elandra asked, stroking its head. “Danger,” the jinja whispered. “Much danger.” “Here?” Elandra asked in alarm, glancing around. “Soon. You go to it. You take jinja there?” “I’m afraid I have no choice.”

  The jinja shook its head and scowled. “Much sad to come. Much sad.”

  Part Four

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The sun was setting over the bay when Elandra and her escorts rode into Imperia. She could see the huge, ruddy orb of the sun dropping to the horizon despite the veil of gloom that shrouded the city. The black cloud covered the city completely, keeping it in perpetual twilight. The air smelted of smoke and ashes, and the cold wind of winter seemed especially sharp as her horse picked its way over the rubble and debris filling the streets.

  She rode with her father, Lord Pier, Iaris, and a handful of frightened servants, surrounded on all sides by calvary. The soldiers had their hands on their weapons and were alert for trouble, their eyes shifting constantly, aware of every noise and movement.

  Elandra said nothing, nor did her companions. The sight that stretched before her horrified her. Imperia, a city once so magnificent, now lay in ruins. Charred beams and timbers poked up here and there; sometimes a wall still stood, as though by accident.

  She was reminded of the destroyed city Vyrmai-hon in the realm of shadow, and hastily shoved that comparison away.

  “Don’t ride too close to any walls,” the officer in charge said. “Sometimes they fall.”

  There had been fire everywhere, decimating every house, every temple, every shop. There had been earthquakes, leveling what remained. Nothing looked recognizable. She searched for landmarks and could not find them. Even the hills stretching up from the bay looked different, and she saw there had been a landslide that scarred the slope and altered the curve of the bay itself. Crude tents and makeshift shelters housed what few citizens remained. Scavengers poked through the rubble, clutching shawls over their heads against the cinders and ash that still blew in the air.

  The air reeked of death. She saw picked bones here and there in the rubble, although an effort had clearly been made to clear the streets of corpses. Vultures perched on walls, fat and unafraid even of the living. In the distance she thought she saw something inhuman and swift leap a pile of rubble and disappear around a corner, but she was not sure.

  It was as though Beloth had already risen, destroying Imperia with one flaming breath. Elandra looked at the devastation numbly, too exhausted to weep for the grandeur of this once-proud city. It had been beautiful and corrupt. It had been magnificent. Now there was nothing.

  If Tirhin expected to remain here, he must be insane. She could not imagine living in this place, beneath the cloud, breathing the evil miasma of death and decay.

  A gang of men darted out to block their path, bringing even the soldiers to a halt. The ambush spot was well chosen. Half-fallen walls hemmed them in on both sides. Little torchlight reached here.

  Brandishing clubs and crudely made spears, the men seemed unafraid of the soldiers, who were already drawing their weapons.

  “Give us your horses!” the spokesman shouted. “Give us—”

  “Shut up!” the officer replied. “Get out of our way.”

  “Just one horse. We have to eat. Please, we need to eat!”

  Elandra could not bear their pleading. She glanced at the servants. “Throw them one of the food bags—”

  “No, Majesty!” the officer said, turning in his saddle. “They’ll be on us like demons, hordes of them. Give them nothing.”

  It was narrow here, and dark. Elandra could feel eyes watching her from all sides.

  The brigands spoke to each other with quick whispers. “Who is she?” the spokesman called.

  “Damn,” the officer said.

  “Who is she?”

  “Tell them,” Elandra commanded.

  Albain reached over from his horse to grab her wrist in warning, but she pulled free.

  “Tell them,” she said again.

  This had been her city. These had been her people. She had escaped, but they had not. She could not bear to witness this now, yet she forced herself not to flinch. She felt responsible for all of them. She must find a way to help.

  The officer rose slightly in his stirrups. “You are blocking the path of her Majesty, the Empress Elandra,” he said sternly. “Let her Majesty pass!”

  The men fell back. “The empress,” they said to each other, elbowing and pointing. “It’s the empress.”

  Someone appeared at the top of the wall, holding a torch. It shone full on Elandra as they kicked their horses forward, and more people appeared as if by magic.

  “The empress!”

  “It’s the empress!”

  “Thank the gods, she has returned to us safely.”

  Their feeble cheers broke her heart. She waved to them, trotting past as the soldiers took advantage of the chance to get free. Again she glanced back at the servants.

  “Give them the food,” she commanded. “All of it.”

  “Majesty!” the officer protested in horror. “No—”

  But the servants were already tossing out the food pouches. Five of them landed among the townspeople, who leaped on them in sudden kicking, screaming, flailing savagery, fighting like starving animals for scant reward.

  “Move!” the officer bellowed.

&nb
sp; They galloped away, bunched so tightly together that Elandra’s leg was crushed against her father’s stirrup. Then at last they broke clear. The streets widened in a place where fewer buildings were standing. Much of the rubble had been cleared away.

  The horses slowed down, their shod hooves clattering loud on the paving stones. Up ahead, Elandra again saw something lurking in the shadows. Something that looked almost human, yet was grotesquely bent at the shoulders. It did not run, but watched them from the darkness as they hurried by.

  “Blessed Gault,” Albain breathed aloud. “We are surely at the end of the world.”

  Shortly thereafter, they arrived at a villa, its three stories miraculously intact within its garden walls. The gardens were trampled and ruined, but only a jagged diagonal crack across the front wall of the house showed any damage. Welcoming squares of gold light shone from the windows. Torches burned at the entrance. Elandra could hear sounds of music and laughter from inside.

  She frowned. How could anyone feast and make merry when the city was like this? She was so appalled she could not comment on it.

  A soldier’s strong hands lifted her from the saddle and supported her a moment when her weary, cramping legs could not quite hold her.

  Albain came and put his arm around her. “Can you walk, my dear?” he asked gently. “Try a few steps and see if your muscles don’t loosen.”

  The journey had been long and brutal. They had spent hours in the saddle, riding at a hard pace that spared neither horse nor rider. In camp at night, she had wept with weariness, unable to eat, too frightened to care. Iaris had tried to care for her, but Elandra did not want her mother. She wanted only Caelan, but he was shackled and kept elsewhere where she could not see him. Every day she struggled for a glimpse of him, if only to know he was still alive, but they kept him hidden. He had been brought into the city by a different route from hers. Now his whereabouts were a secret. She grieved for him already, knowing Tirhin would grant him no mercy.

  Elandra burned with resentment. She had tried to enlist the aid of the Lord Commander, but he refused to even grant her an audience.