The Heirs of Death

35.Nightweaver

NIGHTWEAVER

 
 
The mountain's heart was made of ice. Pure, cold, and glistening ice from where birthed those freezing winds, stretching from the rough ceiling to the ground. It peaked in the front above our heads, a cresting wave frozen in motion as though a down-turned hook.
 
There had been men frozen in that ice. Hundreds upon hundreds of bodies, all of them alive—asleep. All but one.
 
His eyes were wide open. And unmoving, as though immobilized as much as his body. 
 
His stares met mine, irises that were a piece of Rimelia's stormy, grey skies. This face: the hardness of his brows, the scratches on his cheeks and neck, the sharpness of those eyes—it was a face that had stood against horrors and survived.
 
Téors, still in the man's body, was leaning against the opposite wall as Leon and I made our way down the stairs, and still did so as we took in all those faces. It was only when we stood in front of the massive ice that he moved, a breath of fire melting the façade enough to liberate the face. And only that—not his head, not his neck. They remained frozen, only a small window opening. Those grey eyes, darker than Sorcha's yet still a wizard's mark, lowered for instants in a silent, motionless curtsey.
 
The man didn't even blink the dryness that must had built up all that time frozen in here, no matter how long that was, utterly unbothered.
 
"Your Majesties.'' His voice was rough, guttural. A voice that was as hard as his features. The words were spoken in the ancient tongue, the one dialed back when Leander was yet a mere boy chopping wood with his father.
 
Leon and I nodded, our only reaction, not bothering to tell him we were not yet majesties. I found my shoulders squaring instinctively, arms falling behind my back, the face I had learnt to wear in the Ether castle taking full control.
 
"Your name?"
 
He didn't disclose his shock at the impeccable words I spoke in that old tongue, albeit in a smoother accent. Neither did Téors, as though expecting nothing less.
 
"Ser Barös, my queen.'' The name stirred memories back, long nights with Ramos in his office at night with mountains of books sliding momentarily in my mind. I arched an eyebrow at the words—the confirmation—that followed, "War-leader of Rimelia's northern army at King Leander's command.''
 
So goddamn interesting.
 
"Alzar Barös''—I took a step forward, standing in front of him, my chin still high—''I know the titles you bear and the king you served.'' His eyes seemed to storm, a sky torn and raging as he met my stares, yet broken so deeply in a way no healer could fix. "But what I do not know is why do we meet here, on a call so sudden.''
 
A moment of silence stretched between us, his eyes so keen it felt as though they saw through me, deep down into my very core and existence.
 
''We've been asleep for little less than eight thousand years, my queen. We are the army saved to fight another war.''
 
I lost my words at his, all my brewing thoughts coming to a halt, focusing solely on him, at what still echoed in my mind. An army.
 
It was Leon who asked, Alzar's eyes drifting to where he stood, "How many of you exactly are here?"
 
I felt my heart thundering, mind already analyzing, estimating how many souls, how many warriors—
 
"Ten thousands.''
 
I almost wept with joy right there, inside a mountain lost to the world. An actual army—perhaps more than all the fighting powers we had before I left the castle.
 
I turned, facing Leon and Téors, not bothering to hide the spark of light—that small, thin thread of hope building up. When Apocalys would come down on that battlefield, no numbers would be enough, but war was not predictable. And until now, any full-forced demoniac attack might have truly wiped continents away.
 
Téors came closer, a hand falling on my back, the familiar tingles spreading through my blood. He eyed us—Leon and I—then met the man's stares. "There had been a change of plans.''
 
''That, I can see, Phoenix of Life.'' Another heartbeat of silence echoed, and Téors and Alzar had worn the same shadows in their eyes, remembering a story I did not know. "But you are here, then I can only hope we have not lost yet.''
 
"We have not, indeed.''
 
Téors might have wanted to add something, but my words broke out before his, ringing over the ice, down the stairs that went deeper underground, ringing all over with a ferocity acquired from Elayda. "We will not lose.''
 
I had hissed those words, I realized. The man had not blinked at the harshness of the voice. A leader who'd stood in that war against Apocalys. A leader who was about to do it again.
 
"Why?" I took the step back, standing alongside the Nevorian Lord, observing all the sleeping faces, the massive bodies. "And how?'' I was not begging for the answers, I was ordering them. He understood what I meant, what I wanted.
 
"We knew, us who were the small circle closest to the king, that Apocalys had not fallen. We knew, and we understood what it meant, even before it happened. From the very start—King Leander did, too, even though he had spent what remained of his life in self-resent.''
 
The broken, battered body on the temple's floor  came back to mind, along with the fractured yells and cries of despair.
 
"We lived after the Red War, built back what had fallen even when we couldn't repair ourselves. We'd been touched by the Goddess of these lands in those long years prior to our death, harvested to form an army that would live through time until needed.''
 
I let his words sink in deeply. All of them, they were the oldest mortals to live to this day, older than the viziers hidden in the castle's walls. "And why only Rimel?"
 
"The other Gods,'' Téors said in that voice that was not his, ''did not rally armies because they had been under Apocalys's eyes. They had been fond of Mother, and Rimel had been as much, yet they had faked a rivalry, and a hatred—both of them. Because Mother had known, in a way, how the future was to unfurl. She knew she would not take him down.''
 
"So the fallen Goddess had formed an army, and a plan, for a fight that was millenniums to come.''
 
Téors eyed Leon, taking him whole in a way he never did before. "She did. Had spent long picking who was worth fighting in both wars, those who could survive all those times. They chose them, one by one, elites, blessed them tremendously.''
 
"She gave us not only a step forward, but a true shot at succeeding.'' The hand on my back seemed to loosen at my words only to tighten back, as though forcing himself not to shift into feathers and wings and soar far away from here, from this army—the one his mother had built.
 
"She did." I didn't know how to read Téors at that moment. He'd always been clear, his aura readable in the way that didn't take much wondering from me. And yet that thing that crept into him, that brokenness buried deep down…I didn't want to see it. Didn't want to feel it, that longing for someone who didn't exist anymore.
 
"There is one thing, my queen, that I had been entrusted with. A message,'' whispered Alzar, seeming careful, fearing the walls could hear. "It might be not the right time yet, but fearing we could not meet until war rises, I wish to disclose this matter.''
 
"Then by all means, do so, Ser Barös.''
 
"Come back to the name of the Goddess you bear, dive into its meaning, into its very structure, then dive through the one the Dark God holds. It is that first key to unlock many remaining secrets.''
 
I found no answers in Téors's thoughts, no explanations for the cue given—none he was willing, or capable, to show. "Your words hold true. It is not the right time.''
 
His eyes lowered again, lingering, before he added, "We are warriors. And we are healers. And ancient faes who carry the secrets of the Old Times within us. We are brothers and fathers that have lost everything. We are mothers who lost their children, sisters and daughters who wept over their beloved's shredded corpses. We had been summoned, and we have come willingly to this time that we do not know.''
 
Leon placed a hand on the ice, and it throbbed beneath his touch. And it glowed, shimmering rays spreading around where his palm was like spider-webs of running light. "But time changes hearts. And eight thousand years is no short amount, whether asleep or not."
 
"Then shall the queen summon us, and may our responses place your hearts at ease.''
 
And so I did. Called for ten thousands warriors and healers spreading on so many, many levels below us. I reached for their sleeping minds, the gentle, mental fingers.
 
"Your queen summons you to fight a war this world has seen nothing alike yet. She calls for your help. Will you raise your swords and be the army at her back?"
 
The answer had been carried by the darkness snaking up the descent, the darkness that took me back to the trial. It had been one voice, yet so many at the same time. A united answer. A glorified oath.
 
''Yes. Yes, we will.''
 
Something warm kindled within me, spreading, tingling, awakening. Something that I hadn't felt since so long. Something that made my throat burn, that made my heart burn as I turned to Alzar. "And you, Ser Alzar Barös, I summon you. Will you be a light at my side when this war will be nothing but death and darkness? Will you fight with me?''
 
"I shall, Nightweaver, until the very last drop of strength. And beyond."
 
His words, they made the fire stronger. But…Nightweaver. The equivalent to my Lightbringer, to the title I didn’t remember nor know, the title I wondered if Leon or any of my familiars had it at the tip of their tongues. And yet here it was, from the mouth of a stranger who had been led to me by the Gods.
 
I did not bother to hide the small smile claiming my lips, nor that tranquility that overtook me as Alzar closed his eyes, ice forming back in place. The hardness of his features was gone, a face at ease. His aura shrunk back, only to be awoken again when war was here.
 
Téors had been quiet for the while that followed. Hollow, even. And the light he was made of, it looked like it had been carried by the winds, spreading through the world, searching for something, anything, that could bring his fallen mother back.
 
I placed a hand on his back and watched him as he burned back into his bird form, arms turning to winds, talons and claws of gold forming from nothing. A beautiful creation, a breath-taking being.
 
The wings found their place on my shoulders like they always did, head falling below my chin, tilted to the army in front of us. And I wondered if it was known to all these men and women, that they had been the last, desperate move the Goddess had done to save her world.
 
The fire Téors was made from burned hotter than it ever did, almost scorching my skin. It could melt bones, that heat that emanated from him—it could melt worlds.
 
''There are times,'' he disclosed after a long moment of clean silence, ''where seeing her throne still unfinished kills us, brother and me. And it is a fearsome deal, for immortal beasts to feel no life.'' His wings tightened harder, perhaps trying to comfort himself in me, in my name, the last reminder of her existence. "Should we lose, her throne will be the first to fall, and there will be none to remember what and who she fought—what she gave up for this world to survive.'' He pulled his head away, his long neck stretching above my head, beak almost resting on its top.
 
Téors had never spoke this way before, neither had Siltheres. Both had never disclosed anything related to them so deeply—and yet here was my phoenix, baring a piece of him, not barely bothered by Leon's presence.
 
He at last pulled wholly away, hovering above our heads, wings massive yet smaller than the average size he always kept at. "Rimel's temple opens his doors for thee. Rest for the days to come, and I shall come on the second one, before thou return, for there are rising matters thou should know.'' He glowed brighter, the edges of his flames melting into the fabric of the world. "Until we next meet, child of light.''
 
He was gone, a dispersing trail of golden dust the only indication he'd ever been here.
 
I didn't know for how long Leon and I stood there, observing the frozen men and the stairs carved in the side of the mountain, listening to the winds howling all around us. They hadn't felt this cold—these winds—when I'd been mantled by Téors's fires. Nor this loud, either. But it wasn't just the winds that slipped words in my mind.
 
 ''Let's leave for the Lands while you still have some strength left.'' I didn't turn to Leon for the first few seconds his words echoed around. I only stretched a hand, the darkness lining the walls like shadows curving. Curling. Obeying.
 
"We need no gates.''
 
The shadows twirled up the height separating them from my fingers, reaching my wrist, dancing over my skin. Find this place find this place find this place…Not the mountain, not its heart. No, they wanted me to find something else. To find them. The world resting in that darkness.
 
The world that had shielded me when I'd cracked, chained up in that trial. Find this place—that serene, beautiful world. Find it find it find it…The lights that glimmered like stars, the darkness that held the world.
 
The shadows bled darker around my skin, mind and soul well seeing that ethereal solace, summoning it, forging it. A midnight darkness swept around us, building on the walls, layering up, enclosing us.
 
It was Leon's whisper that had my head turning to face him, to meet the red wine eyes. "Nightweaver.''
 
The glow that wrapped my body that last time slowly came back, skin radiating, the runes Sorcha had inked fading away. I smiled, almost tasting the sweet calmness waiting for us. "Lightbringer.''