by Chris Fox
“You may enter,” I said.
The door opened, and Tixa stepped in.
My features relaxed just a bit when I saw her. Tixa was the closest thing I had to a friend in the Aelodhari. She managed to look at me with the smallest amount of distrust in her eyes, and I had resigned myself to settle for that.
It was enough. It was all I could ever hope for; I knew that.
“Tixa,” I said, smiling at her.
“Xiva.” She returned my smile. We dispensed with formal titles when we were alone, something I greatly appreciated.
“It was a good fight.” She closed the door and leaned against it, arms crossed over her chest.
Tixa was a petite woman. I towered over her, easily a head taller, but it had never seemed to bother her. She had dark skin under the golden glow, and her brown hair tumbled about her shoulders in gentle waves. Her eyes were the color of moss, a blending of green and brown.
Unlike most of our brothers and sisters, her eyes almost always reflected what she felt inside. But she was too good at her job for anyone to hold it against her.
Now, I could see the disapproval in those eyes.
“What are you not saying?”
She gave me a measured look. “Did you have to do that?”
“Do what?”
I pretended innocence, but I knew what she referred to.
The end of the fight had not been fair at all. I had centuries on Jina. Centuries in which I had sought the balance we all praised so much—the balance of a superior warrior and healer.
Now, there were few who could match me in either skill.
But that was to be expected of the high priestess.
If someone was better than me, I would be hard pressed to maintain my position. My power would be challenged, taken from me, and my ability to affect change in the realm would fizzle out overnight.
So why did I fight the young ones who joined our ranks?
Because they did not believe in me as they should. Because they doubted me. Because they listened to the rumors, and did not think with their heads.
It was of utmost importance to me that I continued to provide the example for them that I had earned my position.
It would do no good for anyone to forget how I had attained my position, to forget what I was capable of.
“You know as well as I that the magic you worked at the end was too much for a priestess of so few years to combat,” she said, glaring at me.
“I do,” I said.
“Then why did you do it?”
“Because I can only make so many allowances for them. They will not always battle those who are matched in skill. One day, they may find it necessary to defend our realm from those of greater power. If that day comes, I want them to know how to fight. It all starts with understanding that they are not the unmatched warriors they think themselves to be at this point in their lives. You know how they are—headstrong and stubborn.”
She let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head. “I do. Very well. If you think it best, I can hardly argue with you.”
I looked at her, my lips quirking to the side. “Is that so? Then, why is it that you always are?”
“Someone has to keep that head of yours level.”
I laughed, the sound rich and full of true emotion. Tixa was one of the few who could pull a true laugh from within me, and I was grateful any time she chose to do so.
“Thank you for that, Tixa. I needed a laugh.” I looked out the window with a soft sigh. “But now I must go to Ela Serin.”
“Already? What business do you have in the capitol?”
I quirked an eyebrow when I looked back. “When would you have me go to see our people? It is necessary that I hear them, that they see and know me.”
She bowed her head. “As you say, High Priestess.”
I wrinkled my nose, but didn’t prod her on her use of my title.
I clasped her forearm with my own, and she did the same, squeezing mine with affection.
“I will see you later.”
“Safe travel.”
We left the room together, walking in silence to the point where the hallway split in two directions, then departed from one another with a brief nod.
I walked through the temple, acknowledging the other priests and priestesses as I went, until I reached the great doors of the temple that led to the outside.
I lifted both hands, grasped hold of my magic, and pulled it to the surface. My hands alighted with golden energy, and I pushed it forward, activating the tech in the doors and causing them to swing forward with full force.
The bright light of day blinded me for a moment as I strode out of the temple, and let the light breeze kiss my body. I lifted my hands in front of my face to watch the light play across the translucent blue of my skin. I had always liked the way the light reflected from it, the way it amplified the glow, the way it almost sparkled.
It never failed to bring a true smile to my face.
I lowered my hands and glanced behind me to ensure there was no one there.
I was alone.
Closing my eyes, I reached out through the telepathic path to my brother.
“Are you there?”
I sent the thought across it. Just as I always did.
Every day, without fail, I reached for him.
And today, just like every day, he failed to respond.
My sigh was soft and small, the sigh of a woman who had long grown accustomed to such a silence.
Centuries had not changed the small hope that burned in my heart that one day, I would have my brother again.
I missed him terribly, regretted every moment I’d ever prayed to Vivoth and Nytoc that I could be free from always cleaning up his messes.
I was free now, that was true, but at the expense of my brother….
No, it was not a worthwhile trade.
Not in the slightest.
I sent up a silent prayer to both gods, light and dark, begging them to bring my brother back to me.
I’ll never complain again, if you just give him back. I will give up my girlhood dream of leaving Eyrus and traveling the stars, if you would just give him back.
And, as always, there was silence.
3
With a snap of my fingers, the hoverboard to the right of the temple doors came to life, shooting over to me. It was an elegant contraption of science and magic, long and flat. Designed to slice through the air, powered by the magic inherent to every creature born on Eyrus.
I leapt onto it, feeling the board give slightly. It bobbed back up as it adjusted to my weight, and then shot off the top of the mountain.
I laughed as the wind rushed through my hair, spreading my arms wide to either side to catch the breeze. It was moments like this where I was free to be myself, to let the mask of propriety drop.
Below me, the scenery rushed by almost too fast to see. The High Temple was separated from all the cities of Strios by a large forest. It had always been so, but it had the adverse effect of leaving my people feeling removed from the Aelodhari. I wished to rectify that, which was why I came to them as frequently as I could.
Life in the temple was rigid—there were rules for everything. Balance required rules, or so the teachings said. Otherwise, we would descend into chaos.
We must strive to find the balance between Vivoth and Nytoc. If we didn’t, one would consume the other and the end of times would come. It was the duty of every citizen to find that balance within themselves. And in doing so, bring that balance to the realm.
As high priestess, it was my duty to set that example for everyone. There was no position of greater importance, and thus no position with stricter rules.
My every action was watched, weighed, and judged. I dared them to find fault with me, but they could not.
Not when every second of my life had been spent finding that balance that we all sought. I, more than anyone, had to be exemplary in such an endeavor.
Because my brother had never cared for balance,
akin to my father before him.
But my father had never lost himself to Nytoc the way Zvarr had. Zvarr had believed that Nytoc was the one true god, and that he would destroy Vivoth one day and bring about a new world order.
Had he stayed, he would have seen that I had brought about that new world for everyone.
It was I who had ushered in the Golden Age, not Nytoc. It was I who had slaved for centuries for the good of my people, though I knew in my heart that the gods had given me the strength to do this. My heart was prideful, but my mind knew better.
It knew I needed balance, and my pride did not help for that.
To the Aelodhari, balance meant many things, but above all, it meant a sort of peaceful calm that represented itself more often than not as a lack of emotion. In their eyes, emotions were the enemy to balance, though I disagreed with this.
Balance, to me, meant finding a way to drift from one emotion to the other and back again without losing myself. It meant finding a way to live with the conflict that resided within me, without giving myself over to it.
One day, perhaps, I would present my thesis on this, but that day would not come anytime soon.
They weren’t ready for it.
I slowed as I approached the capital, until I was just on the outskirts of the city. After I pulled up to a complete stop, I lowered the board and stepped off. My skirt swirled about my legs as I dismounted. I brushed it back and strode forward.
The skirt was a constant reminder of the old days, when things had been different, when the Aelodhari had worn robes and did not train in the ways of battle.
Not for the first time, I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me that I had not been born in that age. If I had not been allowed to fight, to train, I wasn’t sure what I would have done with myself. The urge to fight was as much a part of myself as it was a part of my brother, though I liked to think I contained it better than he did. He sought battle whenever it presented itself; I turned to it when there was no other recourse.
There had been no wars in the past century, not since I had taken the title of high priestess, but there was always the concern that they could return. That the allegiances I had formed would fall through, and we would again battle the Numar and the Skeyce.
The Numar were not as bad as others would make them out to be, but I understood their misgivings. The Numar did not value the melding of magic and technology the way we did, claiming that the choice they made to use only magic was more pure, more worthy.
It came down to a distaste for the lack of balance in the Numar. They chose to live with pure magic. In a way, that frightened many of the Stryx. In truth, there would always be a small part of me that shared these feelings, but I had known it was more important to find peace than to try to change them.
The Skeyce, on the other hand…well, the irony was terrible. They were the opposite of the Numar, believing the old ways of magic were barbaric. They had fully embraced technology and looked down on the Numar and us Stryx for having anything to do with it. But the same logic I could apply to the Numar worked for the Skeyce, even if I couldn’t get either of them or my people to see it.
It didn’t take much to negotiate the peace treaty, and I doubted it would fall through now, but I still refused to let up on the training of our priests and priestesses. There might be a day when we needed them, and I would not let my pride be the reason they weren’t ready.
Straightening my shoulders, I strode into the capital, leaving my hoverboard at the outskirts so it would be waiting for me when I was ready to return.
I walked through the backstreets of Ela Serin now. Some considered it dangerous, but I had always held the belief that if I could not find something in common with the poorest of my people, then I did not deserve my position.
The streets were not quite dirty, but they were dull. Simple pavement, and the buildings were rather run down. Ill kept. I frowned when I looked at them—they looked worse than they had the last time I had visited. I would need to have words with the keeper of the temple of Ela Serin. Something needed to be done to rebuild this area, and to ensure the people who lived here were not pushed out when it happened. They deserved to be taken care of, to have proper jobs found for them that would allow them to live in a better place than this.
I did not pass any citizens until I emerged from the backstreets into the beginnings of the marketplace. As soon as my eyes alighted on a citizen, I plastered a smile on my face.
The man glanced at me, a cursory glance just acknowledging the flicker of activity that had showed in the corner of his eyes, but then looked again with wide eyes once he realized who I was. He was busying himself with the stand of baked goods outside his storefront, preparing for the midday rush that would no doubt come his way.
It smelled almost sinful.
He took a knee instantly, snapping one fist to cover his heart.
“High Priestess.”
My smile gentled, turning into something a little more natural as I strode over to him and touched two fingers to his shoulder. “Please, do rise.”
He wouldn’t bring his eyes to meet mine, but he did stand.
“How have I pleased the gods so they would orchestrate such a meeting?” he murmured. I could see his hands shaking—apprehension or excitement? Most likely a dose of both.
I cocked my head to the side. “Come now, surely it is no surprise to see me in the streets of the capitol. I have been doing this for how many years now?”
For just a click, he smiled, but then he quickly hid it.
I resisted the urge to sigh and shake my head. I so wished they would grow more accustomed to me—that was what I was trying to do. Normalize my appearance with the people so they would feel comfortable bringing their wishes and complaints to me. I didn’t want to be like the high priestesses of old who had stayed in the temple, never seen by the common people save for the days of the High Rituals.
“It is true, I have heard from many that they have been as blessed as I am now, but still I did not believe such a day would come.” He lifted a hand to brush at his shoulder, rubbing in small circles, and the movement was so fluid I doubted he realized he was even doing it. He was touching the spot where my fingers had been, the movement was so slow and gentle that it was almost reverent.
“What is your name, sir?”
“Ytarr, High Priestess.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ytarr. How is your day thus far?”
“Well enough, ma’am.”
I pursed my lips and touched two fingers to his chin, lifting it so he would have to look at me. “Speak plainly with me, Ytarr. I would know your troubles so I might assist you.”
He started to duck his head, but thought better of it and straightened his shoulders.
“Yes, ma’am. I wasn’t going to say anything…but, we have been having a bit of crime of late.” His eyes drifted to the side as he spoke. “I’m sure it’s nothing worth note to someone in your position—”
“Ytarr,” I said, hiding a small smile behind my hand. It always struck me as a bit funny that people would try to minimize their issues so much when they spoke to me.
Yes, I communed with the gods, but that did not mean I did not care what was going on in the everyday lives of my people.
“If you say you are experiencing problems with theft, that is an issue well worthy of my attention. We cannot allow such things to become the norm in our capital, lest it should spread to the outer cities, and then where would we be? All that we have worked for, as a united people, would start to slip away from us. No, I will not ignore the one bad apple just to find out later that it has spoiled the basket. I will speak to the enforcers about this, and we shall see what can be done.”
Heat flared in his cheeks, making the translucent golden hue of his skin burn bright for just a moment. “Thank you, High Priestess. Your attention is much appreciated.”
“Enjoy your day, Ytarr. I hope it is well for you,” I said, bowing my head at the same time as
him, then continued on my way.
No more than a click or two after, the thoughts he harbored in his mind were so loud they spilled across the telepathic barrier I tried to keep in my mind for the privacy of my people.
She’s so kind; it’s just as everyone has always said. She cares about us. I can’t wait to tell Mina tonight! If only she weren’t related to that other one. What if she turned like her brother did?
My shoulders stiffened, and I resisted the urge to spin about and correct him.
It would do me no good, and it wasn’t fair to him that I had heard his thoughts. He hadn’t reached out; his emotions had just flared to a point that the thoughts had spilled out. He hadn’t intended for anyone to know, and he deserved that privacy.
And it wasn’t like he was the only one who thought that.
In the centuries since Zvarr had left, I had worked tirelessly to prove myself not only to the high priestess at the time and the other members of the Circle, but also to my fellow Stryx. I had wanted them to believe in me as much as the Circle did, if not more. Their opinions matter to me so much, and I would hate to lose the good will of my people.
For the most part, I had succeeded. In many ways, they loved me and all I did for them. But there would always be the afterthought in their minds of what my brother had been, and the unchangeable fact that he was my blood.
They feared I would turn out like he did. The only thing I could do about that was to continue my current path, proving I was nothing like him, until the whispers faded into the background and everyone forgot about my brother.
Everyone except for me—I would always carry his memory in my heart, and I would gladly accept the whispers for the rest of my life if it meant I could have him back with me.
I continued through the streets of the capital, greeting my citizens and learning about them. Every now and then, just as it had happened with Ytarr, there was the afterthought whispered in their minds.
Will she turn?
4
“My lady.”
Several rotations had passed while I had integrated myself with my people, but now a fellow priest was standing before me, shoulders stiff as he awaited my response.
