swamps, to bow is to be a slave."
And
we will never bow to Serin, she thought, lips tight. Even
if all the world kneels before him, Daenor will stand tall, strong,
unbent.
They climbed the stairs up the
pyramid, leaving the marshlands below. Two guards framed every step,
clad in their reptilian armor, their spears decorated with bright
feathers. Craggy limestone statues, shaped as reptiles with hanging
tongues, lined the staircase like bannisters, their backs furry with
moss.
Tam was wheezing and even
Neekeya felt lightheaded when they finally reached the top of the
staircase. Above them still towered a good hundred feet of pyramid,
and before them stretched a ledge of stone. Priests in green robes
stood here, red feathers in their hair, blowing brass pipes. They
lowered the instruments as Neekeya approached and called out
blessings to her.
"Welcome
home, Latani Neekeya!" Their old faces creased with their smiles. "May
Cetela, God of Water and Leaf, forever bless you."
"May Cetela forever bless
you too, my friends." Her eyes stung; it had been over a year
since she had seen these dear old men. Abandoning decorum, she raced
forward and embraced the priests one by one. "I'm so glad to see
you again. I missed you. How is my father?"
Their smiles faded and shadows
filled their eyes. Neekeya stepped back, frowning. A chill washed
her.
"Many
difficulties have tested us this past year, Latani ,"
said Rekeena, the oldest of the priests, a wiry man with a bald,
wrinkled head. "Many troubles have weighed upon your father's
shoulders, though he still leads us wisely, and we still pray to
Cetela. A great menace musters beyond our borders . . . and in our
very kingdom. But it is not for us, priests of Cetela, to dabble in
the affairs of men." He gestured toward the archway behind him.
"Enter, child. We have seen you many miles away, and your father
awaits you."
She glanced at Tam hesitantly,
and she saw the same fear in his eyes. She thought back to the North
Daenorians she had encountered on the journey. She had not spoken of
it to Tam, but she had seen the Radian sigils upon their cloaks.
Radians
. . . in our own land.
She swallowed, nodded at the
priests again, and took Tam's hand in hers. They stepped forward
together, under the archway, and into the shadows.
CHAPTER FIVE:
THE DESOLATION
Madori walked through the
darkness.
She walked alone.
She had thought the Elorian
wilderness was empty. She had been wrong. The stars were a multitude,
a sea of endless, distant life. They clustered above. They swept
across the heavens like rivers of spilled milk. Madori had always
thought the stars were white, but in the wild she realized that they
were silver, blue, red, yellow, and countless other shades. They
moved slowly or quickly, trailing above in an ancient dance. The
constellations guided her: the leaping fish, the running wolf, the
wise old philosopher, the glowing whale. Her parchment starmap was
only a crude thing; the heavens above were a great tapestry whose
secrets she would never fully understand. Headmistress Egeria had
taught that some stars were distant worlds, that life flourished upon
them too. As she walked, Madori wondered if any souls were traveling
their own paths upon those worlds, looking toward Mythimna and also
contemplating distant wanderers.
As a child, Madori would gaze up
at the stars and imagine life on other worlds. She had imagined
worlds of wonder and magic, of dragons and monsters, even one world
where people could turn into dragons. She used to speak of building a
great hot air balloon, of traveling with Tam up to the stars, of
finding a place where day and night cycled, where she wouldn't feel
so strange, so alone, where she could become a dragon—powerful,
blasting out fire, a beast who could feel no pain.
The
silly dreams of a child, she thought. Now those worlds in the sky seemed so distant, so out of
reach, so cold.
Not only stars filled the wild.
Other wonders filled the night.
And
we will never bow to Serin, she thought, lips tight. Even
if all the world kneels before him, Daenor will stand tall, strong,
unbent.
They climbed the stairs up the
pyramid, leaving the marshlands below. Two guards framed every step,
clad in their reptilian armor, their spears decorated with bright
feathers. Craggy limestone statues, shaped as reptiles with hanging
tongues, lined the staircase like bannisters, their backs furry with
moss.
Tam was wheezing and even
Neekeya felt lightheaded when they finally reached the top of the
staircase. Above them still towered a good hundred feet of pyramid,
and before them stretched a ledge of stone. Priests in green robes
stood here, red feathers in their hair, blowing brass pipes. They
lowered the instruments as Neekeya approached and called out
blessings to her.
"Welcome
home, Latani Neekeya!" Their old faces creased with their smiles. "May
Cetela, God of Water and Leaf, forever bless you."
"May Cetela forever bless
you too, my friends." Her eyes stung; it had been over a year
since she had seen these dear old men. Abandoning decorum, she raced
forward and embraced the priests one by one. "I'm so glad to see
you again. I missed you. How is my father?"
Their smiles faded and shadows
filled their eyes. Neekeya stepped back, frowning. A chill washed
her.
"Many
difficulties have tested us this past year, Latani ,"
said Rekeena, the oldest of the priests, a wiry man with a bald,
wrinkled head. "Many troubles have weighed upon your father's
shoulders, though he still leads us wisely, and we still pray to
Cetela. A great menace musters beyond our borders . . . and in our
very kingdom. But it is not for us, priests of Cetela, to dabble in
the affairs of men." He gestured toward the archway behind him.
"Enter, child. We have seen you many miles away, and your father
awaits you."
She glanced at Tam hesitantly,
and she saw the same fear in his eyes. She thought back to the North
Daenorians she had encountered on the journey. She had not spoken of
it to Tam, but she had seen the Radian sigils upon their cloaks.
Radians
. . . in our own land.
She swallowed, nodded at the
priests again, and took Tam's hand in hers. They stepped forward
together, under the archway, and into the shadows.
CHAPTER FIVE:
THE DESOLATION
Madori walked through the
darkness.
She walked alone.
She had thought the Elorian
wilderness was empty. She had been wrong. The stars were a multitude,
a sea of endless, distant life. They clustered above. They swept
across the heavens like rivers of spilled milk. Madori had always
thought the stars were white, but in the wild she realized that they
were silver, blue, red, yellow, and countless other shades. They
moved slowly or quickly, trailing above in an ancient dance. The
constellations guided her: the leaping fish, the running wolf, the
wise old philosopher, the glowing whale. Her parchment starmap was
only a crude thing; the heavens above were a great tapestry whose
secrets she would never fully understand. Headmistress Egeria had
taught that some stars were distant worlds, that life flourished upon
them too. As she walked, Madori wondered if any souls were traveling
their own paths upon those worlds, looking toward Mythimna and also
contemplating distant wanderers.
As a child, Madori would gaze up
at the stars and imagine life on other worlds. She had imagined
worlds of wonder and magic, of dragons and monsters, even one world
where people could turn into dragons. She used to speak of building a
great hot air balloon, of traveling with Tam up to the stars, of
finding a place where day and night cycled, where she wouldn't feel
so strange, so alone, where she could become a dragon—powerful,
blasting out fire, a beast who could feel no pain.
The
silly dreams of a child, she thought. Now those worlds in the sky seemed so distant, so out of
reach, so cold.
Not only stars filled the wild.
Other wonders filled the night.
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