Destiny: Child Of Sky (49 page)

In this you must not fail.

The pace of the time that was passing refused to be hurried. Fresh mornings melded into warm afternoons of slanted sunlight that wended their way toward sweet, lazy evenings and into the deep darkness of night, only to begin anew again with the rising sun. It was the same cycle as everywhere, but for some reason the days seemed longer to Rhapsody, though she had no need for them to be shortened.

The realm of the Rowans was a peaceful, drowsy place, even though the children seemed largely invulnerable to its sleepy call. The children were happy here, growing stronger and healthier beneath the watchful eyes of the Lord and Lady, and the comforting love of their beautiful young grandmother.

The seasons in the glade did not change; it was always spring-approaching-summer; though autumn was Rhapsody's favorite time of year, she barely missed it. That was part of the enchantment of the place as well; beloved friends and familiar things faded into memory, unaccompanied by a notice of their absence.

Time just moved on, oblivious of it all.

The only difficulty was the night. As the sun was setting Rhapsody would look over her shoulder to see the Lord or Lady nodding, indicating it was time. She had chosen the schedule herself; it allowed her the chance to sing her evening vespers, and she knew that the Lady, hovering in robes of sky-blue, kissed each child to sleep at the ending of the procedure, so it made sense to her to do it then. Her nights had long been haunted by disturbing dreams, anyway; they could hardly be made worse by this, she had reasoned.

She was wrong.

There was no becoming accustomed to it. The pain was excruciating, causing her to scream in agony, crying out freely in the knowledge that she could not be heard in the round building that swallowed all sound.

In the beginning she had clung to the edges of the cot, grasping until her fingers bled, desperately seeking some way to lessen the suffering. It was no use. Each jab of the needle felt as if it tore a piece of the flesh from her chest, searing her heart and sending it into spasms of pain the likes of which she had never imagined, let alone felt. It was a final communion with Ashe, in a way; at last she understood fully the agony he had carried..

She tried to concentrate on the children, on the knowledge that, because of her agony, they felt nothing, but that only worked for a moment once the procedure had begun. Finally she gave in to the futility of it all and accepted that she could not be stoic or brave; she was meant to suffer this in their stead. She had agreed to willingly. As she lay on the floor between each procedure, having convulsed off the cot in her misery, she comforted herself with the awareness that each child was sleeping in peace because of this. It gave her what little will she could muster to go on.

After one particularly brutal session, when she lay sobbing on the floor, trying to catch her breath, the Lady Rowan entered the room and drew Rhapsody into her arms. She ran her warm hands over the golden hair and as she did, the pain subsided along with the sobs. She turned the Singer's tearstained face up to her own and looked deeply into her eyes.

'They are stronger now, and older. Aria is no longer a baby, and Quan Li is almost a woman. Some of them can bear this on their own. Why don't you let them?"

Rhapsody shook her head. “No," she said, her voice catching in the back of her throat. “I'm all right."

The Lady regarded her seriously. “You are holding something back from me. What is it?"

Rhapsody looked away, only to have the warm fingers turn her face back again. .

'Tell me," the Lady said. Rhapsody knew the Lady already had the answer, and was waiting for her to admit it to herself. She met the Lady's eyes.

'My mother," she said quietly.

'What of her?"

'I know now what she felt, how she suffered when I left. It was like a piece of her heart had been taken; in a way I believe I am atoning for it."

The Lady touched her face tenderly. “You are carrying great pain about your mother in your heart, are you not?"

Rhapsody looked down. “Yes." She could feel the warmth of the smile above her.

'For the equivalent of three years now you have borne the physical pain for these children as a mother would because the thought of them in pain was worse for you.

How do you think your own mother feels, knowing her child carries so much unnecessary pain on her behalf?"

Rhapsody's eyes met the sky-blue ones instantly; realization came more slowly.

When it did, the Lady Rowan took her hand.

'My guilt about her is hurting her more."

The Lady smiled. “Let yourself heal, child; otherwise your mother never will."

Chat night, as she slept in the solid darkness of her room, the Lady opened her door and came in, carrying a small scented candle wound with fragrant wood.

Rhapsody opened her eyes, but the Lady merely shook her head and placed the candle holder on the table beside her bed. She bent over the sleeping Singer and kissed her forehead gently, then left as quietly as she came.

After a moment the door opened again. Rhapsody sat up in surprise as the young woman came in, smiling, and sat down in the chair, putting her feet up on the bed.

She pulled out a long, thin knife and began a game of mumblety-peg, stabbing agilely between her fingers with it as they rested on her knee.

'Hi, Rhaps," Jo said.

For a moment Rhapsody could only clutch at the bedclothes, struggling to awaken but finding that the sweet, fragrant smoke of the candle weighed heavily on her eyelids. Finally she mustered enough strength to rise and reach out toward her sister's knee.

'Don't," Jo said pleasantly, not looking up from her game of mumblety-peg.

Rhapsody sat quickly back on the bed, her head suddenly light and a queasy sensation of mixed joy and shock filling her stomach.

'Is it really you, Jo?" she asked. Her voice trembled; she didn't recognize the sound of it through the thickness of the haze.

'Of course not,“ Jo replied, still intent on her game. "What you see is only what your memory tells you." She looked up and met Rhapsody's eyes for the first time.

“But my love is with you. You needed to see me, so I came, at least a little."

Rhapsody nodded as if she understood, but she didn't. “You're here, then? In the realm of the Rowans? Between the worlds?"

Jo shook her head. “No. I'm in the Afterlife. But I'll be here when you need me to be, Rhaps. It's the least I can do, after all you did for me."

Rhapsody rubbed her head foggily. “I don't understand."

'Of course you don't.“ Jo slid the dirk back into her boot, leaned back in the chair, and crossed her arms over her chest. "You won't. And I can't explain it to you, either. It's beyond your comprehension now." A wry smile played on her lips.

“Funny, isn't that? In life it was always you that tried to explain things I didn't understand to me."

'Tell me of the Afterlife, Jo,“ Rhapsody said, choking on the words. "I can't. Well, I can, but you won't understand. You can't. You have to have passed through the Gate of Life to know. Here, in this place, you can only see a little of what has passed through, because this is a place of transition. Now you can only know the things you knew on your side of the Veil of Joy. Once you pass through the Gate, you'll know everything. I'm sorry, Rhaps. I wish I could make you understand."

'Are you happy, Jo?"

Her sister smiled. “I'm content."

'But not happy?"

'

'Happy' is a word from your side of the gate. It is only part of contentment. You can't understand, so if it makes you feel better, believe that I am happy. It's as true as anything else."

'I want you to be happy, Jo. I'm so sorry for what I did to you."

The image of her sister laid the dirk aside and regarded her thoughtfully.

'Now, if you want me to be happy, you can't feel guilty; that is something I can feel as well. What you did to me, Rhaps, was give me a chance to live forever.

'You are the first person that I ever knew that loved me. That's the key, you know—it's the connections that we make in life that allow us to know love in the Afterlife. You told me my mother loved me, and you were right; she does. You helped me to find her beyond the Gate because of it."

Jo slid the knife back into her boot and stood.

'I have to go. Don't,“ she said as Rhapsody struggled to sit up again. "Keep working with those kids, Rhaps. You joke about being their grandmother, but the ties on them in the Afterlife go both ways, if you know what I mean. What you're doing is cutting the chains that could drag them in death to the Vault of the Underworld. You know I have no great fondness for kids, but nobody deserves that. Bye."

The door closed behind her, leaving Rhapsody both blissful and bereft.

For the next few nights her sister came to visit. The dream only lasted for a few moments, so Rhapsody became adept at saying whatever was most in need in her heart as soon as her sister came in the door; she was still trying to learn to say goodbye as easily when Jo told her she could not be coming again.

You know the answers you needed most,“ she said as Rhapsody fought back the tears. "I love you; there is nothing to forgive. And, by your definition, I am happy; may you be, too, Rhaps." She rose, ignoring the Singer's pleas to stay, and left by the door she had come in.

In spite of the comforting scents from the candles, Rhapsody bowed her head and gave in to grief. It was then that she felt the soft hand on her forehead. Rhapsody looked up in her sleep to see the face so like her own smiling down at her.

'Don't cry, Emmy." Her mother's hands were gentle, caressing the tears from her face.

Finally it was done. One clear day, no different seemingly than any of the others, the Lady met Rhapsody in the forest and extended her hand. In it was a vial of liquid, black as pitch, slender as an arrow shaft, no longer than her palm. When Rhapsody looked at her in confusion the Lady smiled.

'After all you have suffered for it, I would think you would recognize it."

Rhapsody's eyes opened wide. “This is it? This is seven years' worth, from all ten of them?"

'This is all that remains. It has been clarified down to the essence of its demonic nature, evil in pure form."

A shudder rumbled through the Singer. “Is it safe to carry?"

'For a while. Not for long. I suggest you put it in the hands of the Dhra-cian as soon as you can." She opened her palm; in it was another vial, this one made of silvery hematite, a mineral the Lirin called bloodstone. It was shaped like a chevron, an angled rafter of a roof, and the bottom was lined with cork. The Lady Rowan uncorked the hematite vial and gently slid the glass one inside it, then sealed it shut. She extended her hand to Rhapsody.

'This should fit within Daystar Clarion's sheath at the tip where the sword does not reach. The elemental power of fire and the stars will hold it in stasis until you can give it to the one who will seek the F'dor."

Rhapsody nodded, still afraid to touch the vial. “I'm to go now, then?"

'Yes."

'And the children?"

'Any that wish to return with you may go. Those who do not may remain here, if they wish; they have earned the right to eternal peace if they so choose."

Rhapsody nodded and mustered a smile. “I am forever grateful for your kindness, and that of the Lord." She reluctantly took the vial.

The Lady looked at her seriously. “Don't be, Rhapsody. Favors generally come with sacrifice; I don't think I need to remind you of that."

She was about to ask if any more was owed on this one when the children spilled out of one of the huts, laughing and calling as they ran to her. The Lady smiled at her once more, growing fainter as the air grew cloudier around her. Rhapsody looked around her anxiously and saw Constantin standing some distance away. She put out her hand to him and he came to her.

'Come with us," she said, taking his hand in hers.

The gladiator shook his head. “No, I'm going to remain here."

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Why?"

'It's not time." His voice was gentle, deep as the sea.

Desperation crept into her voice, the Veil of fog was growing thicker. “Please come, Constantin; I'll never see you again."

All that remained visible were the clear blue eyes, piercing the fog like sapphire beacons.

'You will, one day." He closed his eyes, and was lost to her in the mist.

-

She called his name, but the only sound was the wind in the trees of the forest.

Rhapsody buried her face in her hands, feeling the icy sting of her own tears.

'Rhapsody, look! The sword!"

She looked up at the word; a few feet away she could see the blade of Daystar Clarion, the flames billowing up it in the wind. It was still embedded in the snow, point down. The falling iceflakes had dusted the hilt, covering it up to the pommel with a thin crust of white. Seven years had passed in the realm of the Rowans; it was as if she had been gone only for less than a day.

She thought of Constantin, of the look in his eyes that night as he held the image of her, of the same eyes disappearing into the fog behind the Veil of Hoen. The Veil of Joy, she mused sadly, remembering the dreamy days there, and the horrific nights. Above nil else, may you know joy, the Patriarch had said. Perhaps now that she was gone Constantin would begin to find some of it.

A blast of wintry wind snapped her out of her reverie. She looked down at the small faces, looking up at her expectantly.

'Where are we going now, Rhapsody?"

She smiled at them. “Home. We're going home."

Even in the depth of winter, there were birds here now, Achmed noted. He had left his horse in a clearing outside the area that was tainted the last time he had been in this place. It had not been difficult to find the boundaries of the corruption. This ancient forest grove, dark green stands of old wood stretching for miles across the rolling hills of Navarne, had a central sector newly grown over with white birches, poplars, and pale-barked pines, youngling trees whose sallow trunks made the area appear pasty, blanched, as if it were ill. More than a year had passed since the Rakshas had been routed here, since Achmed and his companions had put an end to the blood sacrifices of children it had been making on behalf of its master, the F'dor, but still there remained a heavy silence in the air, a palpable lack of life.