Whispers of Heaven

by Krista Rose

  “I’m sorry.” My voice emerged as a raw whisper, tears burning my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  “The rage will always be there, Brannyn.” Something moved behind his eyes, a shadow I didn’t understand. “Either learn to control it, or it will control you.”

  I swallowed, and nodded.

  He offered me a hand and helped me back to my feet, a lightning fast grin crossing his face. “Now, may I please use the plow?”

  We never told the others. I was ashamed and shaken, and Reyce seemed to forget about it almost as soon as we were done retilling the ground. The late summer rains finally arrived, washing away what remained of my near-fatal mistake.

  I had nightmares for months, clawing my way out of sleep shaking and sweating, my nose filled with the stench of char. I would get up to check on Reyce, needing to reassure myself that he was indeed alive.

  I think Kryssa suspected something, though she never said anything to me. For my part, I had resolved to never again use my fire; my fear of hurting the others was simply too high.

  I did begin watching Reyce for signs of strangeness, but he seemed to have returned to being a normal, nine-year-old boy. His eyes were bright and cheerful, lacking the weight that they had held in the field. Whatever it had been that allowed him to live through the flames, I saw no further evidence of it.

  He was a mystery- one I was afraid to solve.

  REYCE

  4 Syrthil 575A.F.

  I was ten when I first met the Lady.

  She woke me in the middle of the night. The room was dim, lit only by the weak moonlight filtering through the window, and yet I could still see that she was beautiful, radiant and resplendent even in the shadow. Her eyes were large and lovely as she raised a slim finger to her lips to keep me from speaking, then rose and walked silently from the room.

  I scrambled from the bed and followed her, barely remembering to grab my boots as I stepped over my sleeping siblings. The long white gown she wore seemed to float around her slender form as she strode gracefully to the front door, opening it without a sound.

  It made me pause, but only for a moment- how strange that she opened it so quietly, when it normally squeaked like a large, frightened mouse.

  She glanced over her shoulder at me, and all thought vanished.

  The moonlight was brighter outside, though it bleached the color from her hair, so that all I could tell was that it was dark, piled atop her head in an intricate bun and held in place with a long, delicate chain. Her face was exquisite, made of finely crafted bones and sharp, stunning features. A sword rested in a sheath at her hip, and a bow and quiver of arrows were strapped to her back. Glittering vambraces encircled her forearms; I had only ever seen such armor made from leather before, and the intricate patterns stamped into the metal were so complicated my head ached to look at them.

  She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I found myself stumbling over the familiar ground, unable to take my eyes from her.

  I finally realized where she was taking me, as she led me out past the fields toward the edge of our land, and I slowed, questions buzzing in my mind. But she only looked over her shoulder, and I all but ran to catch up.

  To call it a pond was generous, as it was only a few feet wide and maybe a foot deep, but it was secluded, cut off from the rest of the farm by a fence of scrubby pines, and so it was my favorite place to be alone, when the misery of home grew too much and I needed to escape.

  I wondered briefly how she knew of it.

  “Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling.

  She sat on one of the large, ungainly stones that erupted from the ground near the pond, as regal and elegant as a queen upon a throne. “I am a friend.”

  Even her voice was dazzling, and I found myself swaying toward it. “Why?” I managed through clumsy lips.

  “I am here to help you.”

  “Help me?” I shook my head, trying to think past the bemused fog in my mind. “Help me with what?”

  “There is evil in the world, Reyce.” Her voice was gentle and mournful, and I yearned to say anything she wished to ease her sadness. “A great darkness, which threatens to destroy all I love, all you could love. I’ve come to prepare you for it.”

  Great darkness? I closed my eyes, trying to clear my muddled thoughts; it was difficult to focus past her intoxicating beauty. “But I’m only ten.”

  “You won’t always be ten.” I opened my eyes, and she smiled at me. The entire night was filled with sudden, blinding light. “One day you will be a man, and others will look to you to lead them. You’re already different, aren’t you? So unlike your brothers and sisters.”

  I thought of blue flames and swallowed in abrupt fear, retreating a step away from her. “How do you know that?”

  “I know many things.” Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight, seeing far too much. She held out a hand to me, offering. “And I will teach them all to you.”

  I stared at her, torn between the prudent fear that urged me back toward my bed, and my curious desire to throw myself at her feet in rapture. I bit my cheek in indecision. “Who are you, really?”

  “I have told you, I am a friend.”

  “But what is your name?” I insisted.

  “I suppose, if you must call me a name, you may call me Lady.”

  Logic told me that I should run, fleeing back to the relative safety of my house on the hill. But I was a Rose, and we did not give in to fear- we stared it down, defiant and unyielding. If the others could face the terror that reigned over our lives without flinching, then surely I could handle this woman- no matter how beautiful she was.

  I took her hand.

  I half-expected her touch to reduce me to ashes, and sighed in relief to find her grip warm and human, her fingers calloused. She laughed at my expression, and I blushed a little for my thoughts.

  She released my hand, and pulled the bow and quiver from her shoulders, handing them to me. The wood felt smooth and firm beneath my fingers, and I grinned as I gripped it, feeling somehow stronger than I ever had before.

  She taught me how to string it, and draw it back, the muscles in my arms straining, aiming for a tree maybe twenty paces away. The sound the arrows made as they whistled through the air was like music, and the alluring aroma of the Lady as she corrected my stance bedazzled my senses.

  The moon traveled almost too quickly across the sky, and she at last returned me to the house with only a few hours left until dawn. The others hadn’t stirred, and I made my way between them carefully, slipping back into the bed to fall immediately asleep.

  In the morning, I thought that I had dreamed it all, the Lady and the lesson, though my arms still ached. I wanted to weep, certain I would never see her again. But she returned that night, and the next, leading me out each time to the pond to teach me.

  Her lessons varied as the nights passed into months, and then into a year. She taught me archery, until I could strike a pine cone from over a hundred paces by only starlight, knocking it from a branch high overhead. She taught me swordplay, which I enjoyed even more than archery, the heaviness of the blade a comforting weight in my hand. She taught me to read the stars, and the earth, to track both animals and the passage of men, to listen to the calm, still voice of the world. I never grew tired in her presence; though I got little sleep, I was never exhausted from it, and performed the same in the day as I did at night.

  I do not know how much of what she taught me was magic, though it seemed I lived those days bewitched. I do know that she was always beautiful, and she always dazzled me, no matter how often I saw her face. She spoke to me often of great darkness, but there were no shadows when I was with her, only light.

  And I could not help but love her for it.

  KRYSSA

  22 Narens 576A.F.

  I aged slowly, and for that I can be grateful, for it meant that Father did not notice as I finally blossomed into womanhood. I have no doubts that, had he thought of it, he would have sold me
without a second’s hesitation, to alleviate the growing debt of the farm- but he did not, for I still appeared much younger that I actually was. But for all my youthful appearance, I was no longer a child.

  Vitric taught me that.

  He continued to follow me whenever I cleaned his mother’s house, his perpetual presence both irritating and confusing me. I met his questions and curiosity with stony silence, listened to his outlandish stories with reluctant interest. He gave me gifts of flowers, which I cast aside with strange regret.

  I knew nothing of friendship, much less courtship, and so did not understand his fascination with me.

  The summer I turned seventeen, his interest seemed to increase. He followed me constantly whenever I came to the village, though his mother and I both glared at him in disapproval. He bought me gifts of candies from the general goods store, gave me tiny fireworks to take home to my brothers and sisters. The nervousness he created in me grew, but, though I tried to avoid him, he always found me.

  Since Renic’s death, I had grown accustomed to walking the distance between the village and our farm, and found it peaceful and pleasant. The late summer days were warm, the sky brilliant and beautiful, golden shafts of light spearing through the branches of the trees.

  I was smiling to myself as I returned home, my pockets heavy with the coin I had made that day. Allis’ eldest daughter had married a woodcutter, and had hired me to clean her house after I was done with her mother’s. I contemplated what I would spend the money on: a new kettle for our meals or new shingles for our roof, which continued to leak during heavy rain.

  “Hello, Kryssa.”

  My good mood vanished as Vitric appeared beside me. I glared at him, stopping in the middle of the road. “What do you want?”

  He smiled, used to my unfriendliness. “It’s a beautiful day for a walk, isn’t it?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled, waiting.

  “I was thinking I might walk you home.”

  My eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

  “Because I want to.” He shrugged. “Isn’t that enough?”

  I shook my head. “Go home, Vitric.”

  His smile turned strained. “I really would like to walk you home.”

  “No.” I turned on my heel and began walking away, convinced that would be the end of it.

  He grabbed my arm and spun me around. The charming smile was gone, replaced by honest frustration. “Why won’t you let me be nice to you? What’s wrong with us being friends?”

  His grip on my arm pressed on a bruise, making it ache, but I refused to let him see the pain it caused me. I simply stared at him, my emotions swirling within me, too fast and confusing to sort out. He was close to me, close enough that I could smell his skin, could see the way his eyes shifted between blue and grey. He had grown tall and broad-shouldered while I had been busy not noticing him, and I found myself itching to touch the sun-kissed hair that curled over his collar.

  My chest began to ache, and I realized I wasn’t breathing.

  Vitric swore, and released my arm. “Fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll leave you alone from now on.” He started back toward the village.

  A familiar emotion wriggled through the others- guilt. He had only ever tried to be nice to me; it really was unfair that I had treated him this way. “Wait.”

  He paused, turned back toward me.

  “I- I’m sorry.” The words were painful, but I made myself say them. “I don’t have any friends. I- I don’t know what to do.”

  His smile was lopsided. “Being friends is easy. You just talk, and the other person listens.”

  He wants to know my secrets. I shoved the thought away. “Talk about what?”

  “Anything. Everything. Books you’ve read, places you’ve been. What you did today.”

  He was standing too close to me again, and there was a glint in his eye. He was stealing all of my air. “You really want to talk about the floors I scrubbed in your sister’s house? Or the number of weeds I pulled out of your mother’s garden?”

  He chuckled. “Sure.” He gently touched my cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” I breathed. I was frozen in place, unable to move as his face slowly lowered, and his lips found mine. I did not react; I couldn’t. Every intense, devastating feeling I’d ever known cascaded through me, focused to a fine, needle-sharp point.

  Kryssa? Brannyn’s presence in my mind, concerned. I pushed him back out hastily.

  Vitric stopped kissing me, and the separation was a relief, and yet I ached with the sudden loss.

  “I’m- I’m sorry,” he muttered, his cheeks flaming. “I- I just thought you might, you know, like me. Like I like you. I’m sorry.”

  I swallowed, forcing myself to breathe as I raised my fingertips to my lips. “I- I, um-”

  His shoulders hunched defensively. “I’m sorry.” He turned away.

  “Vitric.” This time it was I who reached out to him, my fingers clutching the sleeve of his shirt, forcing him to look at me. “Can- can you do that again?”

  His grin was lightning fast, and he pulled me into his arms, his mouth covering mine. I kissed him back, and twined my fingers at last into his soft hair. He tasted of sunlight and warm honey, and it seemed I had been starved for him my whole life. When we at last broke apart, we were both breathing heavily, our bodies aching in ways neither of us fully understood.

  We didn’t speak; I don’t know what we would have said in that moment anyway. He took my hand in silence, smiling as he laced his fingers with mine. I was still confused, my heart a heavy knot in my chest, my head strangely light. I still did not know if I even liked him.

  But I let him walk me home.

  576 - 577A.F.

  My stolen moments with Vitric became yet another of my secrets, although it was infinitely preferable to the others I kept. I do not know why I did not tell my siblings, for I am sure they would have understood, and been glad for my happiness. Perhaps it was because, for the first time, I had something that was wholly wonderful and mine, and I selfishly had no desire to share. Perhaps it was because I had no wish to untangle the knot of emotion that Vitric caused whenever he was near me, did not want to examine my feelings and tear them apart and see what lurked beneath, and I worried they would force me to.

  Whatever the reason, I did not tell them, nor did I tell Vitric our secrets, though I think that he guessed. He ceased to ask me about the bruises that covered my arms, but his frowns spoke volumes, and I could see the worry building in his eyes. When the concern grew too great, I would kiss him until he forgot it again, preventing questions I could not answer.

  Summer faded into fall. Our harvest was better that year than it had been since our mother had died, though our father had at last given up any pretense of caring at all for the farm, or for his children. I spent more time in the village, though the extra work I took on was truly just an excuse to see Vitric, rather than a desire to make a few more coins.

  Winter came, bitter and cold; I barely noticed. I battled waist-deep drifts of snow, trekking to the village each day in the hopes that I might see Vitric. He rarely disappointed me, slipping away from his house to kiss me in the woods, warming me for the long walk home.

  Spring arrived at last, melting away the snows. With it came the peddlers, and news from other places, which Vitric passed on to me during our lingering walks home. There was unrest in the capital of Val Estus, and famine in Cardoza. A university in the far-off kingdom of Tante had been closed due to a war I didn’t understand, and its students were rioting- but the news made little sense to me. My whole world for so long had been the farm and the village and the mile between them, that I barely remembered the maps Janis had shown to me when I was little.

  Vitric saw this, and bought a map from one of the peddlers to show me. We sat beneath the great trees in a small clearing, my head cradled on his shoulder as he explained the vast expanse of the world to me.
The day was warm and languorous, the air filled with the drowsy scent of roses in bloom as he planned out his dreams for us to explore the world together.

  “We’ll travel to Tante, and see the Mirama Falls.” His eyes were green today, and bright with excitement. “Then we’ll go to Omvaliveysh in the Ice Flats, and see the ice palace of the Elves.”

  I smiled, remembering. “I’ll have to get a pegasus for my sister.”

  “We’ll get a pegasus for each of them.” He grinned, and kissed the tip of my nose. “Then we can go to Cardoza and see the Royal University.”

  “What about Cynvali? I thought you wanted to look for that lost city of gold.”

  “Del Keptrah? We’ll do that first.” His arm tightened around me. “Just let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

  I swallowed, reality settling like a heavy weight onto my shoulders. It was a pretty fantasy, one I yearned for- but how could I leave the others, when Father’s black moods were becoming all the more frequent? He raised his fists and his voice nearly every night, raining hate down upon us like hailstones. He had found a short horse whip somewhere- we never knew where he had acquired it- and used it to strike at us, catching us around the legs and shoulders when we upset him, leaving stinging marks of fire on our skin. He did not even weep anymore when his rages finished, but simply collapsed, his eyes hollow and vacant.

  How could I abandon my brothers and sisters to his cruelty?

  I longed for the dream Vitric spun before me, but I could not leave. He pressed me for promises, and I could only kiss him helplessly, unable to speak, knowing anything I said would be empty.

  Summer drew closer, and with it, my eighteenth birthday. Vitric’s kisses grew more insistent, and I hesitated as he pushed me toward a step I was not ready to take. I had grown up on a farm; I had no illusions about the ways of men and women. But it was a step I was unsure of, one I worried over. If I were to get pregnant, Vitric and I would be forced to marry, and my siblings would be all alone.