Dimitri closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. “Tell me the name!”
“No.”
“I demand to know!” His hands flew to her frail shoulders, gripping them so tightly they were liable to break. “Tell me!”
“Never.”
“Tell me!” He shook her violently, over and over and he felt her old bones give.
The Palavant made no move to stop him, nor did she cry out. Dimitri roared in rage and shoved her away from him. She fumbled back, collapsing on the bed in an unmoving heap.
“Stupid old woman,” hissed Dimitri. “I will find out eventually. When I do, Amorez’s blood will die.” As he stormed from the room to find Luna and Godilai, he heard the old Palavant moaning something that sounded like a prayer.
It was discovered that the Rishai Bisolar System included six planets. Of those six, only two were actually suitable for human life; However, there was one planet in the system that had the scientists aboard the Haven intrigued. This planet, the last in the system, was called Minerva, and was the first gas dwarf planet ever discovered.
– FROM “AN UNTITLED SCIENCE LOG" BY UNKNOWN
I sighed and looked past Ríhan to the Palavant’s table. What was taking so long? The dinner bells had rung half an hour ago, and we were still waiting for the Palavant to appear. Even High Prince Valaskjalf was growing impatient by the wait.
This was the first time I could recall actually getting to see the high prince with my own eyes. He was really handsome! He had unruly black hair that half hid his face and ears. He was dressed in a ruby tunic that had gold embroidery hand stitched throughout. I found myself wishing for clothes like that.
The Palavant’s door finally creaked open. I peeled my eyes away from the prince, but the Palavant was not there. One of her assistants stood in the doorway. She looked grief stricken. She moved her lips to speak, but no sound was heard. Suddenly she burst into tears and fell to her knees. Several teachers and priests were at her side a heartbeat later.
“Oh, Gods, please don’t let it be…” I barely heard Ríhan’s whispered prayer.
My gaze swept the room. Almost everyone in the room students, teachers, and drudges were praying as well. The only one who seemed immune to the grim possibility that the Palavant had passed on was the high prince. He sat there, watching the circle of people gathered around the assistant. His face and demeanor were strangely void of any reaction.
From the circle of teachers around the assistant, Matron Serenitatis stood. She slowly took a breath and moved to stand beside the Palavant’s empty chair. “Palavant Celestia has…has gone to join her ancestors.” She bowed her head. “May she be well received in Havel.”
I watched as Ríhan collapsed heavily onto the bench and hung his head. Though he tried to hide it, tears slipped from his eyes and broke upon the wood of the table. I slowly sank down to the bench and listened to the wails and cries of the others. Unable to cry myself, I bowed my head and whispered a prayer to the Gods, asking that they look after the soul of a great woman; the mother to many.
“Everyone.” One of the Archbishops . She was tall and thin, with skin the color of ivory, a sharp contrast to her black robes. Her auburn hair was curly and long, falling like a curtain to her waist. She had a warm aura and a friendly—but sad—smile. When she had the attention of most everyone in the room, she spoke again. “I know it is difficult to see beyond the sadness right now, but please, for Celestia’s sake, eat and be merry. The Rising of Zahadu-Kitai is a happy time—a time for new beginnings. The Festival of the Phoenix will usher in a new time for all of us.”
The meal progressed with light conversation, often in whispers that I paid little attention to. I did catch a few snippets, most of which consisted of a debate on which of the Archbishops would be elected as the new Palavant, or would the Matron take over. One thing that struck me as odd was how the high prince did not say a word. He just sat there, eating and staring off into space. Maybe he was too shocked.
“Xy, are we still meeting in the library for our study session?” Ríhan asked. He looked guilty. “It feels…weird to continue on as if nothing has happened.”
I nodded. “Everything will be all right. Just give it some time.”
“All wounds heal if given time,” Freya said, suddenly behind me.
I had not even noticed she had entered the dining hall. She had probably received word of the Palavant’s passing, and chose to show her respects by joining the main hall. I looked around again and saw that even Zhealocera had snuck into the room. The Dákun Daju stood by the door, her arms crossed and face as void of expression as the high prince’s.
“Some leave scars.” Ríhan muttered as he pushed his plate away.
I returned my attention to him in time to catch him wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. I nodded. The passing of Palavant Celestia would leave a scar that would last a long time.
“We will just have to limp on then,” I replied solemnly. “Until we find our feet again.”
Ríhan sighed.
An unnerving silence suddenly swept the room, and I looked about in concern. I belatedly realized that the same ivory-skinned Archbishop who had spoke before was standing, her hand raised to win everyone’s attention. Matron Serenitatis stood beside her.
“Students and teachers, before you retire from the hall this night, I wish to speak to you.” She let her hand fall back to her side. “For those of you who do not know me, I am Archbishop Noralani. I have been an Archbishop for nine of my forty-seven years.”
Wait a minute! That name, Noralani, I know that from somewhere. I whispered, “Who is Noralani?”
Freya tapped the top of my head, reminding me to be quiet.
“My fellow Archbishops”—she motioned at the table where she sat—“have taken a vote. The results of this have placed me in the position to act as Matron while Serenitatis takes up the reigns of the Palavant. This shall last until the end of the election, when the new Palavant is decided. Does anyone here wish to argue their choice?”
I could not imagine anyone wanting to argue with the Archbishops. To my greatest surprise, Ríhan raised his hand. Serenitatis pointed to him. He slowly stood.
“I do not argue the vote of the Archbishops,” he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I am just curious to know if you plan to become one of the candidates for Palavant.”
Noralani smiled. “I am still debating on entering or not. I hope to gain some experience acting as your Matron before I make my final decision.”
I, for one, hoped that she did enter the election. From what little I had seen of her today, I got the feeling she was more than capable of handling the role. Her youth was the only problem that I could foresee. Then again, that could make her more appealing—and approachable—in the eyes of the younger crowd who could vote. I wondered who else would enter.
Serenitatis bade us all a good night and took a seat next to Noralani at the table. Teachers began ushering everyone else out of the dining hall. As I joined the line to exit, I noticed that the high prince had vanished from his honored seat. I did not see him anywhere in the room, so he must have either left early or took a side exit. The way that that man was acting filled me with a terrible foreboding.
Something is amiss here.
◆◆◆
Dread filled me as I looked around at the ghostlike trees. I was back in that endless forest again. This time I did not dare to wander or run through the twisted wood; I knew what was out there. It was coming. No. It was here.
“Esté imlít lerra rité mertuác jidó. Arx et cólaz ni Kohnbenai rahn…” The spectral whisper echoed off verse after verse.
I knew it was a warning; there was nothing else it could be. I begged the voice to speak in Standard so that I could understand, but it kept repeating the words in that cryptic language. Over and over, again and again, those same strange words echoed all around me. I covered my ears, trying to block out the voice, but I could s
till hear everything. It was as if the creature was penetrating my mind, forcing me to remember the words of its warning.
“Xyleena?”
I bolted upright with a gasp. It took me a moment to realize I was seated at one of the many tables in the Temple’s vast library. The pile of books I had been referencing had served as my makeshift pillow. Ríhan sat across from me, a look of concern in his hazel eyes.
I leaned back in my chair, stunned. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “One moment you were reading one of your books, the next you were hunched over, eyes closed, and muttering something about warnings.”
It was that dream again, I realized.
“Are you alright?”
I flashed a smile. “Can you write down a translation for me?”
“I can certainly try.” He took out a fresh leaf of parchment. The moment I saw that he was ready, I began to recite the words of the spectral whisper. His pen flew over the paper. Though there were moments where he hesitated over a word, he managed to translate every verse the first time through. When he was done, and the ink dry, he passed the leaf to me.
The blue ink stared up at me from the page.
This great world will die soon,
As the deeds of Darkness spread.
He will rule with mighty hands,
As his beasts destroy these lands.
Only she who bears the Light,
Can take on this ancient battle.
The twelve pieces she must find,
Will aid her in battle heat.
When at last the twelve are one,
He will lose his blackened soul.
She will cast his beasts away,
And Light shall win this day.
“That is a very interesting riddle,” said Ríhan, pointing the end of his quill at the parchment.
I nodded in agreement as I read the words again. It just did not make sense. There had not been any news about “dark deeds” recently, much less a rumor about a girl with light. And what are the twelve pieces?
With a frustrated sigh, I rolled the parchment up and shoved it into the bag at my hip. I caught a glimpse of the strange book I possessed. Even days after being fished out of the water along with me, the leather-bound tome showed no signs of damage. I debated asking Ríhan to translate it. My argument with myself was interrupted by an ear-piercing screech. I winced at the sound and looked around for the source. Other students were looking around as well. It was only when Ríhan pointed to the farthest wall of the library that everyone seemed to calm down.
I peered over his shoulder to see Judge Zamora and a librarian standing at a rusty gate. I knew that that gate was always locked. Some of the rarest books in the world were kept behind it, and entering the room beyond required special endorsements. I had even heard of someone petitioning repeatedly for over a decade to be given permission to enter. I wondered why they would open it now, and for a Judge. As I watched the happenings, Zamora disappeared into the room beyond the gate while the librarian stood guard.
After a few minutes, Zamora returned. She looked worried, and she shook her head when the librarian asked her something. The librarian turned to lock the gate again while the Judge strode away. Just as Zamora exited the library, Zhealocera entered. The Dákun Daju paused for a moment, casting a glance at the door through which the Judge had left, then moved away from the door. She spotted me and Ríhan and quickly made her way towards us.
“What is the Judge still doing here?” she whispered the moment she was at our table.
Ríhan looked up from his papers. “What do you mean?”
She pulled out a chair and sank into it. “The Temple Knights were talking about a woman in a white cloak being down at the docks when the high prince arrived. I figured the woman of whom they spoke was Judge Zamora, and she was taking the ferry back to the mainland.”
“Maybe she changed her mind or forgot something,” I offered with a shrug.
“Or maybe someone else is wearing a white cloak,” Ríhan said flatly.
“Speaking of the high prince,” I paused to make sure I had their attention. “Do either of you get the impression that he is acting suspiciously?”
Ríhan shook his head negative.
“I have yet to see him personally, so I cannot say,” Zhealocera answered. “What gives you the impression that he is acting thusly?”
“Just the general way he was acting tonight at dinner. He did not react in any way when the news of the Palavant’s passing was announced, then he vanished from the hall before we were excused from the meal.”
“Hmm.”
Ríhan scoffed. “So what? I would not call his leaving early or a lack of reaction suspicious activity. He is the high prince; he has probably been trained from birth to not make a hysterical scene of himself in public. Plus, who would want to stick around and be harangued by admirers when you are as famous as he is?”
I could not deny that Ríhan had a very good point. Maybe I am reading too much into the way the prince is acting.
“Well, either way, I am one of the many on duty to guard him tonight.” Zhealocera looked me in the eye. “I shall keep a keen eye on him, and if he truly is acting suspiciously, I shall report it appropriately.”
I nodded in thanks.
“What brings you to the library, Zheal?”
“I came for you.” Her magenta gaze shifted to Ríhan, who looked aghast. “More accurately, I came to pick your brain for information.”
Ríhan sighed in relief. “What sort of information?”
“Acting Matron Noralani – Her name; why does it seem familiar?”
“I was wondering the same thing.” I admitted.
“Wow, I can’t believe you two. I take it back; I can believe you,” he pointed at me, “but you should know the source of that name, Zheal. The Archbishop – or Acting Matron, whichever you prefer – is named after her ancestor, Noralani Ithnez. The first Noralani Ithnez was the daughter of the man who helped to save the entire Hume race from extinction, Aadrian Ithnez, for whom this planet was named.”
“Whoa. So the Archbishop could actually be queen if she wanted to usurp the Za’Cars?”
Ríhan nodded. “Noralani the First’s son, Aadrian Ithnez II, was offered the chance to rule when the Earthers established their first settlement here. He declined, which opened the way for the Za’Car family to rule, and – aside from a brief interval when Agasei DéDos took over the throne – they have been the ruling family ever since.”
Agasei DéDos. I hung onto the name like a hound to a scent trail. Though I could not recall the face or deeds of the person who bore this name, a terrible chill set in over me. I loathed that person to their very core; I have always hated… him… That is right; I remember now, Agasei was a man. Whatever the exact reason, this deep-seated hatred towards him was personal, and it went back centuries.
“Thank you for filling me in on your Hume history.” Zhealocera’s voice brought me back to the present. She stood, turned on her heel, and was gone before Ríhan could reply.
Ríhan shook his head, bemused, and muttered, “That’s a Dákun Daju for you.” With that, he returned to his studies.
I was content to watch him for a while. My thoughts eventually returned to Agasei, and the mysterious book I had tucked away. The two were somehow connected; of that I was certain. I so badly wanted to ask Ríhan what impression he got from the book – Could he even read the contents. – but I could not. It was as if some sixth sense was screaming at me: Do not reveal the book!
The clock on the wall chimed; it was an hour until curfew. Time to retreat to my quarters and retire for the night. I just hoped that I was not plagued by that dream again.
Moonwhisperer, who had been staring solemnly into the blaze this whole time, met my gaze and whispered, “What great feat would you attempt if you could not fail?”
– FROM “THE UNSUNG” BY J’VAC TAIG (TRANSLATED BY B’REG KUNGA)
Midnight was Godilai’s favorite time
of day. The time when most of the world dreamed. It was the hour of monsters and thieves. Tonight was a rare night. Not one of the three moons was out, and Bedeb would not break the horizon for a few more hours. Apart from firelight, the world was completely black.
Godilai lurked in the halls of the Temple. She moved like a shadow, silent and unseen. She darted past the patrols, who would turn and wonder if they had imagined movement. Finally, she reached the fifth floor– the library. The entrance was watched; Two Priests and a Knight conversed just left of the door. Godilai scowled and sunk deeper into the shadows. She would have to bide her time.
“So Archbishop Serenitatis is acting Palavant?”
The Knight’s voice reached Godilai’s ears. She growled, remembering the conversation with Dimitri after his meeting with the old Hume. He really needed to learn how to control himself. One would think an immortal would have learned patience. That was untrue in Dimitri’s case.
“…and hope she wins the election. She has done many great things in her life so far.”
“Wasn’t she the one that urged the high king to take action against the bligen poachers?”
“That was her all right. I was glad when the king was finally swayed to help the bligens. Their fur may make nice coats and rugs, but I like seeing the wildcat in the wilderness. They really are gorgeous.”
Idiot Humes! Move! Godilai glared at the trio.
“She was also the first Priestess to head a committee. The Committee of Excellence in Education, if I remember correctly.”
“That’s the one.”
“Serenitatis really does have a good record. I’m with you two. Serenitatis for Palavant!”
“That is, of course, provided she runs for the position to begin with.”
“She will. I can feel it.”
“You three are still yappin’?” The Lord Knight who had escorted Dimitri to Celestia’s chamber earlier approached from the right.
Yes! Get them out of the way! Godilai watched him with great interest.
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