When the Goddess Wakes

by Howard Andrew Jones

“Take this. See that some future hero bears it in defense of the realms. And Lothrun, too.” This he drew in a flourish and passed to N’lahr.

  “We will,” his old friend assured him.

  Elenai lowered the great bow and bowed her head to Rialla. “This victory was your doing. We will never be able to thank you enough. I shall see that all know of your actions.”

  “It is enough that it worked,” Rialla said. “It is enough that I kept my oath.”

  “Your dedication and skill were phenomenal,” Varama said. “You will inspire generations of squires, and the eternal gratitude of the people of the realms.”

  “Thank you, Alten,” Rialla said with a formal nod. Elenai had almost forgotten that by her timeline, Rialla had only been promoted to the ring the night before, and wasn’t yet comfortable informally addressing those who’d been superiors.

  “Just Varama. You, of all people, can call me by my name.”

  “What will you do now?” Kalandra asked her.

  “I mean to rebuild Alantris,” Varama said with resolve. “I had to burn it to save it, which is a dark, humorless joke. I will not rest until I have seen it restored.”

  “You blame yourself too much,” Kalandra said. “You acted to save the people, and they are surely grateful.”

  “Be kind to yourself,” Kyrkenall advised. “And patient. I know patience isn’t really your thing, but compassion is, even though you hide it. Spare some for yourself sometimes.”

  Varama smiled thinly at this advice. “I’ll remember that. Is there any chance you’ll visit us, sometimes? I’d be curious to hear what it’s like, to be a god.”

  Kalandra laughed gently. “I’m sure you’d have many questions. We shall see.” Her eyes settled on another figure. “Tretton, isn’t it about time you got out to some of your dreams?”

  “Maybe it is,” the older man said. Elenai wondered what those were. “Maybe I should turn the ring over to someone else while I’ve still got some mileage in me.” He bowed his head formally to her. “You made me proud, Kalandra. And Kyrkenall, you were always a thorn in my side, but you pained our enemies even more. I was glad to serve with you both. You be careful out there.”

  Kyrkenall grinned.

  Kalandra answered him. “We will. Gyldara, Thelar, Vannek, I enjoyed knowing all of you. Never forget that we won because we worked together. Let that continue.”

  “I will devote myself to that,” Gyldara pledged.

  “As will I,” Thelar said.

  Vannek formally bowed his head.

  “What of me?” Ortok asked. “Surely you have words for me.”

  “Of course I do!” Kalandra said with a smile. “Yours is a brave, bright soul, and we would never have succeeded without you. I hope you will remain a friend of the realms. I can’t take you to the theater, but Elenai still can. Seek out Selana’s plays. Think of me, especially when you see The Fool’s First Errand and Far Falls the Moon.”

  “It’s the second she always quotes,” Kyrkenall said. “And I swear she’s just like the queen in Fool’s First Errand.”

  “I will remember this,” Ortok said.

  Finally, Kalandra’s gaze shifted to Elenai. “Rule well,” she said. “Take counsel from the wise ones here.”

  “I will.”

  “And don’t forget to laugh now and then,” Kyrkenall said. He then turned to Kalandra. “I almost forgot about some people Belahn trapped in Wyndyss. Weeks ago. In another life.”

  So far as Elenai knew, Kyrkenall had never mentioned the matter to Kalandra, but she answered without hesitation. “We will set them free.” She then favored N’lahr with a tender smile. “Be well, old friend. Set your sword aside at last.”

  “Good-bye, Elenai,” Kyrkenall said, and his eyes fell upon N’lahr. “Good-bye, old friend. All of you: live long and well and free of burden.” He and Kalandra raised their hands in farewell.

  N’lahr addressed them as he and the others returned the gesture. “May your road be long, may your cup of joys be full.”

  Kyrkenall released Kalandra’s fingers, and he and she and Rialla brought their hands to their chests in salute. The sapphire within Kyrkenall’s ring lit, and then, at the same time, so did the burned-out sapphire within Elenai’s own, brighter than it ever had. So, too, did those on the fingers of each of them.

  Elenai and the others returned the salute. She wiped at her eyes, meeting those of her departing friends. She wept even as she smiled, but they, all three of them, were full of life and love.

  And then he and Kalandra and Rialla simply vanished, their images fading like the afterimage of a snuffed candle flame. Kyrkenall’s ring was left behind, shining for a moment in the sand before it dimmed.

  It was very quiet.

  N’lahr stared at the spot where all three had stood. Elenai wondered if he’d ask to be caught up, but his first question was simple. “Darassus and the realms?”

  “Fine, so far as we know.” Elenai wiped at her eyes again.

  “I sensed them in the connective threads of the globe Rialla shaped,” Varama said. “The realms lay securely upon it, along with other lands once planned or dreamed.”

  N’lahr looked as though he wanted more details and decided against it. He took in the surrounding Altenerai and officers. “And Rylin is dead,” he said.

  “He died freeing the shaping tool,” Thelar explained. He’d accomplished far more than that, but now wasn’t the time for a full report.

  Ortok walked up to N’lahr, his expression grave. Elenai knew a stab of fear. Why hadn’t Kyrkenall and Kalandra foreseen this long dread moment, and done something about it?

  “Ortok,” she said sternly, “I can’t permit you to duel N’lahr. That is my order, as queen.”

  Ortok grunted and shrugged. “You are not my queen. But a god told him to set aside his sword. How can I fight a man when the Gods have told him to lay his weapon down? Besides, I already slew the one who killed him.” Ortok extended his arm to N’lahr. “You offered me friendship. I offer you brotherhood.”

  “I will take it, gladly,” N’lahr said.

  They clasped arms then, and Ortok beamed.

  Elenai wondered if it were truly that simple for him. But then maybe Ortok, too, had seen N’lahr die too many times, and had reasoned his way out of that final challenge.

  “If all these lands have been added, how do we find our way back to them?” Vannek asked.

  “I’ve a sense of where everything lies,” Varama answered. “If you’re not averse to following my directions again.”

  Vannek actually smiled at that.

  “We will bury our dead,” Elenai said, thinking foremost of noble Lelanc. “And we will honor them. Then we’ll break into two groups. I’ll return with half of you to Darassus. Varama, I wish you to return to Cerai’s stronghold. Recover Rylin’s body. See if there are other experiments that must be terminated. Take the general and Muragan with you.” She faced Vannek. “You want land? It occurs to me Cerai built a fine realm. The land is fertile. There’s even a citadel.”

  “We blew it to pieces!” the blood mage said, laughing.

  “Call it partly under construction,” Elenai suggested. “Does that sound amenable?”

  “It’s a good start,” Vannek said.

  Elik presented a cleaned Irion, hilt first, to N’lahr, who hesitated for a moment before sliding it home into its sheath.

  “Do you really mean to step down from the Altenerai?” Elenai asked.

  “We’ve won. Against all odds, I still live. And so, yes. After we see to a few more things.”

  “It was not about odds,” Ortok objected. “It was about the will of the Gods.”

  “If you won’t stay on as the commander of the Altenerai,” Elenai said, “I hope you might consider counseling me.”

  “I would be honored.”

  “Enough talk,” Ortok said. “We have won the greatest victory. It is time now for the remembrances, and the feasting. Let us join together for that, and let
us do so on momentous occasions hence forth!”

  Elenai bowed her head to him. “Kyrkenall would approve.”

  Epilogue

  Rylin looked down across the little courtyard where a profusion of bright daisies bloomed, and Elenai sadly studied his marble features. Ten years ago he had risked his life to leave Alantris with more than a thousand prisoners, and the city still honored him in countless ways. This, though, was her favorite of all his statues, one of the last works of Melagar, sculpting after intensive mental links with the people who’d known the young alten best.

  Other depictions showed him as stalwart and ferocious. Here, though, he looked most as Elenai remembered him in the end; weary but resolved. A slight smile and wrinkle about the eyes suggested his kindness.

  In the first weeks and months after Rylin’s death, Elenai had often thought about what part he’d have played in the reordering of the corps, and if he would have approved of the way she and Thelar had set up the adjunct sorcerer’s corps the former exalt had once proposed to him.

  The years since had not been without their trials, but on the whole the realms and their allies flourished, and she couldn’t help wondering if the broken state of their lands had been a reflection of the shattered love between God and Goddess, and that the new age of peace and prosperity was connected with the final fates of Kyrkenall and Kalandra, who loved each other deeply. Sometimes, when she was alone in the early hours after dawn, she quietly prayed to them. Not as a supplicant, but as a friend, wondering how they were doing. Someday, she hoped, they might answer.

  The double doors to her left opened, bringing with it a chatter of conversation and the bustle of people in motion. Elik closed them behind himself and bowed his head. His Altenerai uniform was immaculate, from collar to boot.

  “Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Alten,” she said, affecting a grave nod, as though she were a remote and distant monarch.

  He flashed a quick smile. “Derahd asked me to tell you he’s taken the children for a walk down to the flower canal again.”

  Elenai chuckled. Naturally he wouldn’t want to turn them over to servants. “Were they getting restless?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Elenai smiled at thought of six-year-old Rialla’s recent determination to gallop everywhere on an invisible horse. And young Asrahn’s determination to imitate his sister’s every move.

  “The commander thought you should know most of the guests are here now,” Elik continued. “But I’ve a surprise.” And with that he opened the doors without her leave, and in walked three familiar figures. N’lahr was at their head, dressed in a plain, well-tailored blue shirt and black pants and boots. Kalandra’s words had proven true, for he appeared not to have aged since that day in Kanesh ten years previous. Varama, behind him, was graying at the temples, but otherwise unchanged, apart from her wardrobe. She, too, had resigned from the corps, and today was dressed primarily in green, though her belt was black and a silver necklace hung at her throat.

  Lastly came the largest visitor of all, Ortok. His kilt was longer now, and in recent years he’d taken to wearing a matching vest, as well as a broad pendant set with an emerald, her gift to him. Varama had told her she thought it his most cherished possession.

  “Ah, Elenai Queen Half-Sword Oddsbreaker!” The kobalin opened his arms wide, and Elenai, smiling in return to the toothy grin, allowed herself to be enfolded in his rough embrace.

  Elik quietly withdrew, leaving them to their reunion.

  Laughing, Elenai stepped back. “And how are your lands and people?”

  “Ah, we find new challenges!” Ortok answered. “We miss the storms, but there are cliffs, and deserts, and many fine things to see. Varama has shown us ways to make our settlements endure, now that the lands do.”

  “And how is your academy?” Elenai asked N’lahr.

  The former commander maintained a small community in the hills outside Alantris, where he offered a home and school for children who’d lost their parents in the war, or suffered other misfortunes.

  “Well enough. I’m pleased with the new stewards. I found the idea of the school more exciting than the running of it has proved. It’s in the right hands.”

  “If you’re looking for different work, I can always use you in Darassus.”

  N’lahr bowed his head. “I am at your service.”

  “And how’s your husband?” Elenai asked. “Is he here?”

  N’lahr smiled with regret. “That didn’t work out. I’m seeing a wonderful woman now. I think you’ll like her. She’s with the other guests.”

  “I’ll look forward to meeting her.” Elenai turned attention to Varama, who’d quietly been contemplating Rylin’s statue. “And how is my wandering councilor?”

  “Well enough. Vannek wishes to extend you greetings, but did not think his own appearance on the anniversary of the Second Battle of Alantris would be appropriate. He has also given birth to another child, which would have made it inconvenient to travel.”

  Elenai wondered how Vannek could square his claim on the male gender with giving birth and realized she might never be able to understand. Perhaps she herself was too set in her own conception of gender, or perhaps Vannek just couldn’t be comfortable under a different label, having grown up in a society where it seemed impossible to think yourself a woman if you stepped away from your community’s idea of natural roles.

  Ortok, too, had been looking at Rylin’s statue, huge hands at his waist. “I think I like this statue best. The one at Darassus just looks angry. Here he looks determined.”

  “This one benefited from Varama’s input,” Elenai said.

  “You flatter me,” Varama said. “I merely suggested Melagar show a gentler side of him. I had thought he should be smiling. This, I think, is more subtle, and truer.”

  Varama, head of the recently instituted Council of Scholars, had spent long years traveling the realms, assisting not only in rebuilding, but in enhancing agricultural practices and diplomatic outreach. Her love of invention had never stilled. Some of her balloons now drifted over the city with festive banners, and a few even carried passengers in gondolas. Varama had recently overseen the final construction of an immense clock tower built on the grounds of the old Alantran Council Hall, so tall its faces could be seen from beyond the city wall. Yet no accomplishment ever left her content, for she had half a hundred under way at any time and had admitted once to Elenai she would never live to complete them all.

  Occasionally, Elenai saw her smile, though her expression, as she contemplated Rylin’s statue, was somber.

  Elenai had lost track of the number of statues erected through the realms since the end of the invasion and the defeat of Cerai and the Goddess. She’d made sure that other heroes beyond the obvious had been honored. Naturally, many cities had raised images of Elenai and Rylin and N’lahr and Kyrkenall, as well as Gyldara Dragonsbane, and Thelar, Master of Squires, and all the Altenerai and brave squires who’d distinguished themselves in the wars. But she had decreed that Ortok, too, be depicted, and Drusa and Lelanc, and Kalandra, and M’vai and Meria and even—though not here in Alantris—Vannek and Muragan.

  Most important of all, she had ordered Rialla’s likeness erected in every capital, insisting further that the alten always stand in the sunlight, surrounded by flowers. Rialla’s actions had saved them all, though her role had been the least apparent to the people of the realms.

  “Tretton and Enada are here as well,” N’lahr said, and Elenai brightened at that. One could never tell if the two retired Altenerai would turn up at special events. They’d been out exploring the new wilds together.

  “How’s their map coming along?” Elenai asked.

  “They say there’s no way to finish it in their lifetimes, but they don’t seem bothered.”

  Ortok clapped his hands together. “I look forward to this play we’re to see. I hear that it will have music and brave speeches.”

  “I’ve heard that,
too,” Elenai said. “I’m somewhat nervous about it.”

  “You think it will not be good?” Ortok asked. “Is your sister bad at making plays?”

  “No. But it’s going to have actors playing us in it,” Elenai said.

  Ortok tapped his chest. “Me, too?”

  Elenai nodded. “You, too.”

  The kobalin smiled in utter delight. “I’m to be in a play that I am watching! I hope that your sister gave me fine words and great deeds.”

  “I’m sure she has.”

  “Those are two of your defining characteristics,” N’lahr said.

  “Kyrkenall told me everyone has three. Perhaps the third one is hungry.”

  Elenai laughed. “Well, yes, but you can be more than three things, remember?”

  “I remember.” He sighed. “Tell me, do any of you miss being Altenerai?”

  “No,” Varama said. “I feel like this is what I am called to do. In another time, I think this is what I would have done from the start.”

  Ortok straightened in astonishment. “Surely you miss the battles?”

  “No.”

  “Me, either,” N’lahr admitted. “There are many moments I wish I might forget.”

  Ortok grunted. “And what of you, Elenai?”

  “I miss it, sometimes, in some ways. I’ll always miss Kyrkenall, even though he was usually a colossal pain. But I don’t miss the sleepless nights, and the fear, and the uncertainty. What we have now was worth going through all of that. What about you, Ortok? Do you miss the old days?”

  “There are new challenges. I am content. And there are new delights. Like this play. Will we be sitting together?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sit through the whole play,” Varama said.

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” N’lahr said.

  “Oh no,” Elenai cried. “I have to stay to the end, right there in front of all the councilors and Governor Feolia. The least you two can do for your queen is endure it with me.”

  “I will watch the whole thing,” Ortok vowed.

  When the doors opened again, it was Commander Gyldara who stepped out. Her bow was far more formal than Elik’s, addressed as it was not only to her, but to the revered veterans. “My Queen,” she said, “your guests are waiting. And I think if your father goes on for much longer he’s going to drive a few of them completely mad.”