When the Goddess Wakes

by Howard Andrew Jones

  N’lahr arched an eyebrow at the interruption.

  “Please forgive me,” the exalt said with formal dignity. He placed a hand on the table, then lifted it to reveal a sapphire ring. “Alten Rylin presented this ring to me prior to our confrontation with the queen, so that I might be better protected against her. I wish to return it so it may be passed on to a worthy candidate.”

  Rylin watched glumly.

  “You are Commander of our Mage Auxiliary, Thelar,” N’lahr said. “If Rylin trusts you enough to provide such a tool, I will not gainsay him. He granted it to you during a time of crisis. That time is hardly over.”

  The exalt bowed his head solemnly and Elenai understood he had been deeply moved. He closed his hand over the ring and returned it to a belt pouch.

  N’lahr then praised the fallen squires and Altenerai. Surprisingly, he mentioned Denaven as well. “It’s fitting we honor him, not for who he had become, but because he risked his life untold times for the safety of the realms in the last war.”

  Elenai expected a sly word from Kyrkenall, but the archer remained silent.

  “Finally, the fate of one of our missing was ascertained by Altens Kyrkenall and Elenai.” N’lahr looked across the table to his best friend.

  “Aye,” Kyrkenall said with a solemnity uncharacteristic of him. “Elenai and I came to a place the kobalin had declared holy because they worship a war god who fell there.” He set a sapphire ring on the table before him. “They were paying homage to Commander Renik. He fell in battle against more than sixty kobalin, most of them lords, and he’s lain there ever since.”

  There was no missing the sharp intake of breath from one side of the room. It had come from the famously emotionless Varama. Her change in affect was subtle, but for her such demonstrative emotion was tantamount to wailing with hands pressed to eyes.

  “We recovered his ring,” Kyrkenall continued, “but we couldn’t retrieve his remains.”

  “It must be done,” Varama said. Elenai had forgotten how high and remote her voice was.

  “Yes,” Kyrkenall agreed. Once more he offered an empty hand. “We’ve a long to-do list.”

  “We will make time to properly honor all the dead,” N’lahr said. “And we will take time to honor the survivors, and rebuild the corps. But now we must focus on proximal threats. Yesterday, Leonara fled with close to thirty followers and an immense supply of hearthstones. Exalt Thelar predicts she will be capable of opening them within the next four days. If she does, the result will almost certainly be catastrophic. She has to be found, and she has to be stopped. Rylin, have you had a chance to brief Varama?”

  “Yes, in the essentials.”

  “I was able to examine the keystone for a short time before it was stolen by Cerai,” Varama said. Elenai wondered if she always sounded slightly sad like this, and if she’d somehow missed it before. “I therefore know how to reach the Lost Realm, and I agree that it is Leonara’s likely location.” The lanky alten rested a hand on the table, and Elenai noticed that the tip of one of her long fingers was missing. “The journey will require many days travel below the realm of Erymyr.”

  “Below?” Thelar asked curiously.

  “It’s possible to travel ‘sideways’ through the shifts,” Varama explained, unperturbed. “The trick is knowing the precise character of your destination.”

  “And do you?” N’lahr asked.

  “I don’t have to. It should be possible to detect even inactive hearthstones in the immense mass that Leonara has conveniently gathered, providing we know which general direction to search in.”

  “You mean extending our spirits all the way to this Lost Realm?” Rylin asked.

  “Exactly.” Varama looked as though she were about to speak further, but fell silent and stared at a space below Ekhem’s window.

  Elenai’s arm hairs pricked up, along with those on the back of her neck. Her ring flared blue, as did those of all the Altenerai at the table.

  Rialla appeared beside Kyrkenall, her image washed out, as though she stood in bright sunlight.

  Kyrkenall shoved his chair away from the table and regarded the ghostly figure beside him with wide eyes.

  Rialla’s voice echoed around the hall. It seemed to originate from somewhere other than her moving lips. “N’lahr, is this when you’re trying to find Queen Leonara?”

  N’lahr stared in level regard before answering. “It is.”

  “The queen’s readying to unbind them all, near the pool of seven statues. It’s on the map. Strike tonight and you will fail. Delay for three noons, and you arrive when the Goddess wakes. That is too late.”

  N’lahr opened his mouth as if to make inquiry, but Rialla continued before he could.

  “You find them in three groups upon the hills beyond the statues, where they have built the Goddess. Striking it will complicate their efforts. If your attack is a surprise the queen will be delayed. I open the way outside Darassus’s central gates at second dawn. Then you appear in a field beyond the hills, so your horses can build speed. Deploy a small force as only sixty-six can be moved. Spread out so she cannot catch all in a single blow. Bring mages to shut the hearthstones as they brighten.”

  “I understand,” N’lahr said.

  Elenai was glad someone did.

  “How many times have you done this?” Varama asked her.

  “What about Kalandra?” Kyrkenall asked at the same time.

  But Rialla had already vanished as abruptly as she’d appeared. Elenai wasn’t surprised to hear Kyrkenall swear.

  “She’s never good about answering questions,” Elenai said in the confused silence.

  “That was Rialla?” Thelar asked. “I know what you said last night, but she’s been dead for more than ten years.”

  “What I don’t understand is why sometimes she appears in my dreams, and sometimes in person,” Elenai said.

  Varama fixed her with that penetrating gaze. “When’s the most recent time you spoke with her?”

  “She appeared late last night. In person again, and didn’t seem familiar with the idea of talking to me in dreams. She tried to warn me Kyrkenall needed to jump left. But he’d already done that. She doesn’t seem to be able to keep track of when she’s spoken with me and what she’s said.”

  “Interesting,” Varama said.

  “Something?” N’lahr extended his hand to her.

  As Varama pursed her lips, Kyrkenall scooted his chair back to the table. “If you’ve got some kind of explanation, I’d love to hear it.”

  “I don’t like to speculate,” Varama said.

  “Is it possible she’s not dead?” Kyrkenall’s voice held a hopeful note, much as it had this morning. “That she’s trapped somewhere like N’lahr was, and that she’s projecting herself?”

  Varama answered carefully. “I think something else more likely.”

  Kyrkenall frowned. “You’re deliberately drawing this out.”

  “No; I wish to be certain none of you take my explanation for flawless deduction. I have been wrong in the past because I lacked information. For instance, while I correctly deduced you were innocent of Asrahn’s murder, I incorrectly predicted you would ride for Alantris because I did not know you would find N’lahr alive, or that you would chance upon a Naor invasion, then ride off to fight for Arappa.”

  Kyrkenall spun his hand in the air to suggest accelerating her narrative.

  “Very well. I will first lay out facts for those not present for the events. Rialla was attacked during the first battle of Alantris and thought to have been mortally wounded when assaulted by the projected spirits of multiple Naor mages. Her body lived without her spirit for just over six hours, which exceeds by two hours more the length of time any other known person has managed to survive after a similar accident. Kalandra monitored her, and confided to me that she was certain Rialla tried to return no less than three times. Though her body should simply have lain comatose until overtaken by death, she did not remain completely st
ill.”

  “I was there, too,” Kyrkenall asserted. “I saw the same thing.”

  Varama continued: “Kalandra was a keen observer, a shrewd woman, and a reliable witness. If we assume her observations were accurate, Rialla was, in fact, still connected to her body. Either she was unable to take possession of it, owing to damage wrought to her connection by the attack of the Naor mages, or she chose not to repossess it for some reason.”

  “Why would she do that?” Kyrkenall asked.

  “Let her finish,” N’lahr suggested.

  Kyrkenall sighed dramatically.

  Varama resumed. “Rialla did remain connected to the hearthstone, and Kalandra likewise reported she felt certain Rialla drew energy from it even though her spirit was absent.”

  “Do you think she was coming back for spell energy?” Rylin asked.

  Thelar nodded. “Could she have been creating some kind of powerful magical duplicate of herself? One that’s been activated somehow?”

  Elenai hadn’t conceived of that and looked to Varama for an answer. She recalled that Rialla had sometimes squired with Alten Varama.

  “Those are interesting ideas,” Varama said. “While Rialla was certainly working spells it is doubtful she created a duplicate. Illusory magic was never her forte. I believe we have just encountered exactly what she was doing. What she is doing.”

  “What was that?” Kyrkenall demanded, impatient.

  “For those six hours, she was throwing herself forward and trying to preserve her friends and the five realms.”

  For a long moment, everyone was silent. Elenai struggled and failed to understand how a spell like that might work, even as she admitted to herself Varama’s explanation fitted much of what she’d seen from Rialla.

  “You’re saying she’s jumping in time?” Kyrkenall asked finally.

  “Yes.”

  He scoffed. “If she can do that, why can’t she just go back and, I don’t know, kill the queen or Mazakan or something.”

  Varama shook her head. “She seems only capable of limited insight into the future, or she’d be more precise. Hence her difficulties in communication with Elenai. To us, it might seem as though she has all the intervening years to play with. But she doesn’t. She only has those six hours of life, which are advancing for her spirit regardless of her location in time.”

  Kyrkenall let out a low oath.

  Thelar broke the ensuing silence. “That’s an interesting theory. But it does seem there are more effective things she could have done.”

  “She had only six hours,” Varama repeated. “To look at every moment that matters up until the world ended which, I imagine, is what she saw first. Or perhaps she glimpsed the many ways Kyrkenall might die. Either way, she has been working backward from those moments, trying to nudge us into a future that doesn’t end in disaster, or the death of her closest friend.”

  Elenai saw at last what Rialla must have been working for, again and again. Having occasionally seen branching realities when she herself glimpsed flashes of the future, she could imagine Rialla walking countless labyrinths of possibility to see how a dire moment might be undone. And if she really had only six hours as she lay dying a decade ago, her hurried manner made much more sense.

  In sorrowful awe, Elenai understood who and what she’d been dealing with for the last few months. Rialla was no terrifying entity from beyond the grave, or an all-knowing oracle. She possessed astounding abilities, it was true, but at heart she was only a frightened young woman, awarded the ring earlier in the day before frantically struggling to preserve her people through vague glimpses of terrible futures.

  “Damn.” Kyrkenall said softly. “So Rialla really is dead.”

  “Long ago,” Varama agreed, “but not yet. She saw the queen’s intent and spent the rest of her hours attempting to unravel it. She sacrificed herself to save us. And the realms, and the outer lands. Everything.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help her?” Elenai asked.

  “If I can communicate with her even for a few moments to gain additional information, we may be able to improve the odds that her great sacrifice will not have been in vain.”

  “So why does she appear in waking hours sometimes and in dreams at others?” Elenai asked.

  “She may be saving her greatest energy for when she’s needed most. Or perhaps you’re seeing her visits out of your chronological order, before it occurred to her she might save energy by speaking to you in dreams. I can’t say with certainty.”

  N’lahr rapped the table. “I’m loathe to trust our victory to someone who can’t explain her methods, but … if Varama’s right, Rialla has already gone so far above and beyond her duty I have no right to question her process.” He looked at his charges. “We will select our troops and be prepared for battle two mornings hence.”

  “That means Tretton and Gyldara can’t get here in time,” Rylin said.

  Not to mention the Erymyran army and Kaneshi cavalry they led. Elenai hadn’t realized how far out they still were. She looked to N’lahr.

  “That’s why it’s good that we have some help from the Naor,” the commander said. Naturally he’d already noticed the problem, for he sounded unperturbed. “For now, let’s adjourn to the map room and discuss tactics. I think I know the depiction Rialla referenced.”

  Thelar raised his hand. “Commander, if we attack the statue of the Goddess there will be another discharge, like the one that brought down the Naor dragon in the arena.”

  Elenai was impressed the exalt had managed to fix on that problem during the flow of information.

  “I have the answer for that,” N’lahr said. “With Rialla acting as our scout, we now have a leg up. Let’s plan a victory.”

  9

  The Third Matter

  Vannek passed a goblet to Rylin, standing near the tent’s central fire, then eyed his own as if seeing the gaudy jewels decorating the silver cup for the first time.

  The Naor leader looked up at him after a moment, full lips almost prim with distaste. Still he didn’t speak for a time, and Rylin took in the whole of the tent, its fire beneath the circular hole in the roof, its small but well-carved wooden cabinet, the rug, and two canvas partitions.

  “All of this was my brother’s,” Vannek said, as if in apology. He then pointed to the entrance with his free hand and Rylin turned to see the guard bow and depart into the twilight, the canvas flap falling behind him.

  “Chargan?” Rylin asked.

  “Yes, Chargan.” Vannek drank again. “My younger brother, Koregan, wouldn’t have cared for any of this. Do you have brothers?”

  “I have one.”

  “Is he a squire?”

  Rylin laughed. “No, my brother builds boats. So does my sister.”

  Vannek tried and failed to disguise his curiosity, and studied Rylin as though he sought hidden meaning. He had pretty eyes; no matter the broken nose and ill-fitting garb, Rylin found him attractive.

  Vannek drank deep. “Your evenings are hot here.”

  This one was, particularly. But then they’d spent all afternoon in the sun as Rylin introduced the Naor troops to Altenerai signaling methods. The wine was fruity and crisp, and Rylin drank almost all of it down, saving only a little for a later sip. He didn’t want to relax too much. “Summer’s nearly here,” he said.

  “When you say that they build boats, you mean that your family pays people to build them, don’t you?”

  “No, they build them. They pay some employees to help. Why are you so interested?”

  “I want to know about your people. So how did your family benefit from your change in status?”

  He puzzled over the question. “You mean when I became an alten? They get no special favors.”

  “What if you had children? Would it be easier for them to become squires?”

  “Everyone has to earn their place. The corps takes only the best. That’s why we keep kicking your ass.”

  Vannek’s laugh was short and ung
uarded. Still showing the trace of a smile, the general put his wine on the cabinet and sat down on the camp stool near the fire, pointing to the one nearby.

  Rylin took the seat. The flames burned low, and the smoke drifted up through the circular opening at the roof’s peak. The fire appeared to have been set solely for a light source.

  Vannek planted a hand on his knee and leaned forward. “So then, what’s it like to be Altenerai?”

  He’d been asked that before, but never by a Naor. His life had been full of firsts lately. How best to explain it? “Have you ever fought and worked for something, then realized when you got there it was different from what you expected?”

  “Yes,” Vannek answered. “What was different for you?”

  “I grew up listening to tales about Kyrkenall and Queen Altenera and Decrin of the Shining Shield. They all sounded carefree, as though they traveled from place to place having adventures and saving people. Their lives were full of excitement.”

  “Surely you’ve seen your share of battles and excitement.”

  “More than I need. It turns out that it’s not that much fun to have people depending on you all the time. If you fail, some or all of them could die.”

  Vannek sat, somber and mysterious, as if processing this information.

  “What about you?” Rylin asked. “What did you want from your path?”

  He gave Rylin a penetrating stare before speaking. “Do you know, only my father has ever asked me what I wanted. Everyone else just assigned me to some role, either because they had no vision, or because it would further their plans. Marry me to some chieftain, or king. Father was the only one willing to let me choose my own way.”

  Rylin wondered why he had such a difficult time imagining a Naor parent caring about his child, and recognized some of the barriers that still lay between them. “Your father was Mazakan’s son?” he said, regretting how appalled he sounded.

  Vannek laughed once. “His favorite son! You’d think Grandfather would like all the ruthless asses who cozied up to him, but Father charted his own way and stood up to Grandfather from the start. Instead of cutting him down to size, Grandfather favored him above all others. If your Temahr hadn’t killed my father, things might have been very different.”