Salvation
This day I stand most alone of all living things. This day I have seen Blackness, and there is no power of good beside me to fight it; this day I have seen treachery, and I have not the strength to speak out. My pen must do what my arm cannot; it must say what my tongue cannot. These words on paper must inspire men to return to the high things and turn away from the evil that drags and sucks and covers with filth.
I, Aneryn the Prophet, have seen a great Spider in the Blackness beyond the Veil. I have seen a great treachery. In this moment I wish for the tongue of the Shearim, that I might sing out against evil; I wish for the strength of the Brethren of the Earth, that I might battle it; I wish for the companionship of men, that together we might form a fortress of hearts which the Blackness cannot penetrate. But none of these things is given me; I am alone; I am forsaken; and in darkness and sorrow I see…
The Spider weaves a web and its strands pierce through the Veil, joined to the souls of men. Men themselves have called it to them. They have reached for the Blackness, and the Spider has answered them.
On the strands of the web, power flows to the children of men. Even now they form an alliance one with another; Blackness calls to blackness in their souls. This night I have seen them light a fire, and it burns blue before my eyes. A brotherhood, they call themselves, to subject the world in darkness. This is their covenant with Morning Star.
The tapestries of time flow before my eyes and I see the days to come. I know what this Order will do to the Seventh World. I see the bondage the Spider weaves.
But I remember the King. I remember other visions. He will return, for he has spoken it in my soul, and I, the Poet, I, the Prophet, have heard. The Gifted Ones will challenge the Order of the Spider and they will conquer.
I have seen it.
* * *
Virginia crawled forward on her hands and knees, feeling her way through the forest underbrush. The earth was cool and tangled with roots and leaves and moss. Insects ran over her hands as she moved. She felt it behind her: the power of darkness at her heels. Her wrists ached from the wounds inflicted by the shackles, her body from the jump from the train, and every pain grew sharper as the pursuer drew near.
The ground sloped down. The sound of running water filled Virginia’s ears. She moved until her fingers found the cool brook, and she paused to bring the water up in her hands and drink.
She stood and waded through the brook; then stayed still for a moment and strained her ears for the sound of footsteps through the rushing of the water.
The darkness swirled around her for a split second and she saw a black-robed figure moving through the woods as silently as death.
And then she smelled flowers, and heather-covered hills, and the coming of spring, though in reality the world was drawing close to winter. It was the smell of the King. His strength and love filled her with a fierce, quiet joy. She whispered, “I remember.”
Somewhere in the distance a wolf’s long, lonely howl rose and hovered above the trees.
Virginia turned to face the one she knew was standing just behind her. The air stirred slightly, and once again she caught the scent of spring, borne on the wind from some far country. But as she turned, the smell was overwhelmed by the fearful stench emanating from the one on the other side of the brook.
“Who are you?” Virginia asked.
The voice that answered was low and rich. A woman’s voice.
“I am one like you,” the voice said. “I have come to help you, Virginia Ramsey.”
“I want no help from you,” Virginia said.
The voice sounded wounded. “I have come to offer you friendship,” she said. “Do not turn me away. You have already experienced the friendship this world has to offer.”
“My friends have risked their lives for me,” Virginia replied.
“Do you think that will last?” the woman hissed. “They are afraid of you! Afraid like all the others, and as your power grows they will turn against you. They will cry for the High Police to come and take you away! You feel their fear already. And do you think the Lord of Angslie is your friend? To him you are a prize possession—though evidently not worth protecting, as you are now alone.”
“How do you know me?” Virginia asked.
“We of the Gifted take care of our own,” the woman said. “We have known of you for some time. We have been watching to see when you would need our help. You need us now, child. I know… I, too, have been alone.”
For an instant Virginia’s resolve faltered. Her heart reached out to this being who knew what it meant to be different. But then she gasped as the world swirled around her and she saw, with the eyes that only she possessed, that the creature standing across from her had the scales, the eyes, and the tongue of a serpent. She saw a cloud of pestilence hanging around the woman’s cloak, tiny vermin screaming hatred and violence.
The vision passed as quickly as it had come. Virginia raised her head high.
“Do you know me?” she asked. “Then know that I also know you! I have seen the death that clings to you, and I have seen the tongue of a serpent that you possess. Say what you will: I know you for a liar. I am not one of you.”
The woman screamed with rage. The sound lashed across Virginia’s face like a whip. She cried out in pain, and she heard the woman spit out words that cut like knives and bound Virginia so that she could not move. She fell to the ground as otherworldly bands tightened around her till she could hardly breathe.
Under the palm of her hand, Virginia felt the ground growing hot until the heat was burning her skin, and she pulled her hand away with all of the strength she could muster. The smell of smoke filled her senses, and suddenly the ground all around her was in flames, a fire that grew with the urging of the cloaked woman’s voice. Virginia lay in a prison of fire. The bands around her snapped; she could move again. She curled herself up as tightly as she could while the fire roared in her ears. Only the sound of laughter rose above the noise.
Then she felt the woman’s presence with her, inside the circle of flames. A hand reached out and grabbed her hair, pulling her up to her knees.
“A serpent’s tongue, have I?” the woman asked. “A dragon’s power! And you? Do you have the power to fight me? You have nothing! You have scorned me, scorned my help, and here you are—more helpless than a child. Blind! You are a freak of nature; blind and yet able to see. Without my help you are nothing. But you will learn. We will teach you to fear the power of the Covenant Flame!”
Virginia made no answer. Then, slowly, a smile appeared on her face. The woman jerked away as though she had seen something repulsive in Virginia’s face.
“I have seen the end of you and your power,” Virginia said quietly. “I have seen the King.”
Slowly and deliberately, Virginia rose to her feet. As she did, colour and shape began to take form before her eyes. She saw the circle of flames all around her. The fire was dying down, the earth beneath it scorched black. The woman, cloaked in black, was standing in the very center of it, her dark eyes wide with horror.
Outside the circle, wolves were closing in. They stepped forward on padded feet, their eyes glowing with power. In the trees, owls, sparrows, and hawks perched, waiting. Behind the wolves, farther back in the trees, stood the commanding forms of the red deer, their sweeping antlers gleaming in the firelight like spears; the great hulking threat of the bears; the wild boars, foxes and badgers and even mice.
And then, out from the trees and up from the ground came the forms of creatures like men, and yet like nature itself—a giant form, translucent and yet marred like bark, with long hair like ropes of vine; a slender creature whose lines moved and faded in and out with the wind; a wild man with long hair and clothes made of fur, arrows on his back made with teeth, and fierce joy and gladness in his eyes.
Virginia heard the woman scream with rage and fear. Then everything was blackness again, and the smell of the coming of spring overpowered the stench of smoke.
* * *
Huss swept into the house with the commanding power of a man long known and respected in the courts of the city. Libuse lived in a rich house near Pravik Castle. In the open foyer, a dozen High Police stood guard, looking uncomfortable as Huss berated their leader.
“This is an outrage!” Huss said, waving his long finger in the Police captain’s face.
“I follow orders,” the mustached captain defended staunchly, his powerful arms folded across his chest. “I don’t question them. We received word of a planned attack on the princess’s life and were commanded to place her under house arrest. For her own protection.”
“I have never heard of anything so ridiculous,” Huss snapped. “The princess is a reasonable woman. It is hardly necessary to arrest her in order to keep her safe.”
“Orders are orders,” the captain said. “It’s not my job to question them.”
“Then tell me who gave the orders,” Huss raged, “and I will question them!”
“No need for that, my friend,” said a voice, interrupting the discussion. Every head in the room turned to see Libuse descending the staircase, her long blue dress trailing behind her. The officers at the bottom of the stairs stepped back respectfully as Libuse approached Huss and the captain. She held out her hands to the professor. He took them and held them for just a moment.
“It is good of you to come,” she said. “But there is no need for anger. I am being treated well enough.”
It was Jerome who spoke then, from his place beside Maggie. “You should not be kept like a common prisoner against your will, my lady,” he said. Libuse favoured him with a gracious smile.
“I trust my imprisonment will be over soon enough,” she said. Then she turned and addressed the captain, who snapped to attention at her voice. “Captain,” she said, “Surely you will not object if my old friends accompany me to my drawing room. I wish to speak with them in private.”
The captain’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded. Libuse turned and led the way to a small, finely furnished room off the foyer. She closed the doors behind them. When she turned back, Maggie was shocked at the change in her face. Her guard down, the princess was pale and afraid.
“Libuse,” Huss said quietly, “do they suspect you?”
She nodded unhappily. “Almost certainly. I do not know how much they know. But if they are investigating me, then it will not be long until they find out far too much. I have covered my tracks carefully, my old friend. But an experienced hunter will find them.”
“Do you know who gave the command for your arrest?” Jerome asked.
“Zarras,” Libuse said.
“Antonin Zarras,” Jerome said for Maggie’s benefit. “The Overlord of the Eastern Lands.”
Huss seemed to be choosing his words carefully. His voice was low to ensure that no one outside the room could hear. “I have never wanted to know the extent of your involvement with the Ploughman and his rebellion,” he said. “I felt it was wise to stay ignorant. But now I feel that it may be best to know.”
Libuse nodded. “What can I say?” she said. “My personal fortune is nearly gone. I have given every penny I could spare to the Ploughman. And I have returned the stolen goods of the people to the people whenever I could.”
Huss’s eyebrows shot up. “You have raided the Overlord’s treasury?”
“The money in it stank of blood,” Libuse said sharply. “Taxes taken from starving people. It was never Zarras’s to take, so I gave it back.”
“You will be removed from the Governing Council,” Huss said.
“Worse than that,” Jerome said, his handsome face raging. “She will be charged with treason and executed. Do you doubt it, Master Huss?”
“For theft, I doubt they would be so harsh. The people would not take kindly to the execution of their princess,” Huss said. “But I think that you are in great danger, are you not, Libuse? Unless I miss my guess, your ties to the country militia are more than just financial.” His voice became gentler, and he stepped closer to the woman. “I have seen your promise on the finger of the Ploughman, have I not? The ruby he wears did not come from any country woman’s treasure.”
Libuse hung her head. When she looked back up, her eyes were filled with tears. “I love him with my life,” she said. “If the Governing Council ever finds out…”
Her voice trailed away, and she looked at Huss pleadingly. He nodded, his face grim. “They will never let you leave this place,” he said. “That is certain. Yet if you stay here, you are waiting for the blade to fall.”
“Help me,” Libuse said quietly.
“Of course we will,” Huss said. “I will go to the Overlord. I will…”
“No, Master Huss,” Jerome said. “You must not become involved. If the princess is forced to leave the Governing Council it will be a great enough loss to the Eastern Lands. We cannot afford to lose both of you.”
He looked at Libuse “I will come for you tonight, my lady. Be ready to flee through the tunnels at midnight.”
Libuse nodded, her face grave. There was a sharp knock on the drawing room door. Huss looked at the heavy oak.. “It seems they grow tired of having the princess out of their sight,” he said. “So we must return her to them for a time.”
* * *
The three left Libuse’s house in silence. Huss’s brow was wrinkled with worry. Jerome was deep in thought, planning out the rescue. Maggie walked beside them, distraught at her inability to offer even a word of comfort. Everything was happening so fast, and she was still struggling to put together Huss’s earlier revelations with what was happening now. Struggling—and yet a clarity was beginning to emerge. She felt a strange strength and a sense that her feet had found their old path at last.
“They want the Ploughman to come for her,” Jerome said.
“And he will,” Huss answered. “He knows what will happen when they find out what she has done. Make no mistake, he will not abandon her to them.”
“But if he comes here,” Maggie said, shyly, “what then?”
“Then they will be waiting,” Huss said. “They will kill him.”
“No,” Jerome said. “No, they won’t have the chance. The Ploughman will not come here. Libuse will join him in the country before word reaches him of the arrest.”
“Have a care, Jerome,” said Huss. “This is no easy task you take upon yourself.”
“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Jerome answered, a slight smile playing on his face. “I believe it was you who taught me that.”
Huss nodded. “I suppose you will be dragging more of my pupils into this.”
“Is it also you who says, ‘He is a fool who does with one hand what he could do with two’? I am not such a fool as to think I can do this alone.”
“And among the students of Huss you are likely to find many willing to help you,” Huss said, with a deep sigh. “When I was a student of the secret, I and my classmates kept our knowledge safe, deep in our hearts. Why do my students insist on wielding knowledge as a sword?”
The two men fell silent for a long moment, and each face betrayed such conflict that it hurt Maggie to see it. At last Huss smiled a thin smile and said, “Go, Jerome. You have very little time.”
Jerome nodded and left the courtyard. Huss and Maggie were left looking after him.
Huss turned after a while and started for the house. Maggie fell in stride beside him.
“Jerome risks a great deal for Libuse,” she said.
“Yes,” Huss answered. “He risks more than you know. But I am afraid he does not have much of a choice.”
They were about to enter the door when Maggie asked quietly, “Does he love her?”
Huss stopped and gave Maggie a long look. He smiled slightly and said, “Yes. He loves her, as any subject loves a sovereign who thinks only of her people and would give her life for them. The Empire will never recognize Libuse as a queen, but her people have never seen her as anything else. And Jerome is very much a son of his people.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “In that sense Jerome loves her. But not in any other way.”
* * *
The forest pulsed with power as Virginia felt the creatures of the wood draw near. In their footsteps a wild drumbeat echoed. The wind played around Virginia’s head like a living thing. She heard voices in it: exulting, laughing, swirling and dancing on the eddies of the air.
“Free!” an ethereal voice cried. The wind danced and shivered as the voice coursed through it.
“The hold of the Blackness is broken,” said another, one that spoke with a voice timeless and strong and deep: the sort of voice an ancient tree might have, if it could speak.
“Where has the witch gone?” roared another voice, the voice of youth and battle and tooth and claw; the voice of wolves and hawks and bounding deer. “Let me at her!”
“Gone for now, is she,” whispered the voice in the wind, trailing silver tendrils through the air.
“We have defeated her purpose,” said the tree-voice. “Rest content.”
“I have rested for five hundred years!” roared the animal-voice. “It is time that I act again!”
“Peace,” said the tree-voice. “The time to vanquish our enemies will come when it comes.”
“What have we been loosed for, if not to fight?” demanded the animal-voice.
“We have been loosed to prepare. And to help this one, as we have done,” said the tree-voice. Virginia was suddenly aware of eyes on her. A warm breeze blew through her clothes and hair gently, kindly.
“Sees much, the blind one,” whispered the wind-voice. “She has set us free.”
They fell silent. They were waiting for Virginia to speak.
“No,” she faltered. “I did nothing. It was you who rescued me.”
She heard a sound like the near-silent laughter of a wolf.
“Your need loosed our chains,” rumbled the animal-voice. “We feel the power in you… the life in you. We have waited five hundred years in darkness, bound and blind, for you to call us out.”
“But I didn’t call,” Virginia said, her voice full of wonder.
A voice spoke in her memory: “Through you I will wake the world.” She shivered, as one shivers at the touch of delight.
Again they waited. Virginia said, “Who are you?”
The wind-voice rushed past her ears. “We are the Children of the Burning Light!”
“We are the Brotherhood of the Earth,” said the tree-voice. “We are the living spirits of the forest, of the beasts, and of the wind.”
“What happened to you?” Virginia asked.
The animal-voice growled. “We were banished by the traitor Morning Star, held in darkness that we might not rip out the throat of his Empire.”
“We fought in the Great War, gloriously,” said the tree-voice. “With all of our Brethren and the righteous children of men.”
“So few,” whispered the wind. “Few men in our ranks.”
Virginia felt as though sharp eyes were piercing through her. “Have you children of men forgotten so soon how it was?” the animal-voice asked. “How the teeth and the claws and the antlers of the beasts ran red with the blood of traitors, how the trees sent their roots and branches to block off the roads, how the wind beat on the gates of the city? Do you no more tell how the River-Daughter and the Sea-Father swamped the ships of the enemy?”
Virginia hung her head. “I am afraid we have forgotten everything we ought to have remembered.”
She thought she heard the wind sigh, and the tree-voice said, “But the race of men was always short of memory. Or have you forgotten, Gwyrion?”
The animal-voice grunted in reply, like the grunt of a boar.
“Forgotten,” repeated the ethereal wind-voice. “What else have you forgotten, daughter of men?”
Virginia held her head up again, and her face was wet with tears. “We have forgotten the King himself,” she said. “We have forgotten that there was ever a world of beauty before the Empire.”
“The Empire!” the voice of Gwyrion, the animal spirit, spat. “Unholy offspring of Men and Blackness! Spawn of death and rebellion!”
The tree-voice spoke then. A note of heart-breaking sorrow strained its words. “Have you truly forgotten the King? Can there be any hope for a world that has forgotten him?”
It was the wind spirit that whispered, “She has not forgotten.”
“I have seen the King,” Virginia said. “He came to me on a hillside near my home.”
“Far away, your home,” said the wind.
“There!” roared Gwyrion in a voice full of triumph. “The King’s feet have walked our earth again! Hope lost? How could you say such a thing, Tyrentyllith?”
The tree-voice answered, “You are right, my brother. Of course you are right. He will come soon if in this generation human eyes have seen him.”
“He will come soon!” Gwyrion roared. “We, the Children of the Burning Light, will prepare the way for him! We will fight, as we did in the Great War, and this time we shall see who will rise the victor!”
“In good time, proud one,” said Tyrentyllith, the tree spirit. “Many, many of our Brethren still sleep, bound by the Blackness. Their silent dreams creep into the roots of the earth, even now. And do not forget what the prophets have foretold. It is the children of men who must prepare the way for the King.”
“I don’t understand,” Virginia said. “If you are a small part of the King’s forces, you must have been a far greater army than men could raise up. How were you ever defeated?”
A palpable silence came over the glen, and Tyrentyllith answered. “We did not only fight men, but the Black Ones as well.”
“They would have fallen beneath our strength!” Gwyrion said.
“Lost were we when our heart was taken,” the wind whispered sadly.
“It is true,” the tree spirit said. “It was not force of strength that won the day against us. We lost the battle when our heart was broken.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Virginia whispered.
“Traitors! Traitors are men!” the wind said in a sudden cold blast.
“The children of men are loved above all else by our King,” said Tyrentyllith. “When they broke his heart, they broke us. He left the Seventh World of his own choice. For this reason, it is men who must usher in his return. Those who sent the King into exile must open their arms to him again.”
“It has begun,” the wind said, quiet once more.
“It has begun in you, daughter of men,” said the tree spirit. “And there are others. It was the life in you that awakened us, and will awaken the rest of our Brethren. The end of the Blackness is coming.”
“Seeks you, does the Blackness,” whispered the wind. “It desires to use your power.”
“I will never help them,” Virginia said.
“We must be gone,” said the tree spirit. His voice was gentle in response to her words, though he neither confirmed nor denied what she had said. “We have work of our own to do. The earth has lived long without us. It is time the trees felt spirit at work in them again. But I have a gift to give you, daughter of men.”
Virginia felt a small pouch pressed into her hand by a smooth hand large enough to enfold hers entirely. The pouch was woven of rough fibers.
“Seeds,” Tyrentyllith said. “Life itself is in your hands. Use it wisely.”
Suddenly Virginia felt that the tree spirit was gone, though how she knew she could not say. Before she had time to think more on it, Gwyrion’s deep voice was speaking. “The wild calls to me, and my soul rises up to meet the call. I must gather my creatures and teach them again what it means to have a beating heart to guide them! To you, little cousin, I give the strength and eyes of a hawk to watch over you. Heed its call at all times.”
Virginia felt and heard the beating of huge wings lifting high above her, and then she knew that Gwyrion, too, was gone. Far off in the forest she heard a wolf’s howl, long and wild and free.
Last, she felt the wind begin to play around her once more, and the spirit voice whispered to her.
“My name is the gift I give to you,” said the wind. “Llycharath is the name of the wind. In greatest need, call out for me. To ride the skies and hear what I may, I go.”
There was a sound like leaves blowing in the trees, and then, though the breeze continued to blow, Virginia knew that Llycharath also was gone.
Virginia rubbed her fingers over the pouch in her hand, and raised her head up high.
“Farewell, Children of the Burning Light,” she called. When the echo of her voice had died away, exhaustion fell over her. She lay down in the clearing, and with the far-off keening of a hawk in her ears, she fell asleep.
* * *
Late that night, Maggie rose from her bed and dressed quickly. Huss had supplied her with clean clothes, but she shunned them and dressed instead in the worn, stained clothing from the journey. Her coat seemed lighter without the heavy weight of the scroll tucked inside it. It seemed years since she had left the shelter of Mrs. Cook’s home to embark on the journey that had led her so far from everything she had ever known.
A strange joy burned in her, untainted by the gravity and sorrow of the circumstances around her. She had found her path. She knew her enemy now; knew it by name. In the hours of the night she had come to believe it all: in the King, in the Veil, everything. And without fully realizing it, she had committed herself to fighting against Morning Star and his earthly stewards. Thread by thread, she was beginning to see a picture.
Quietly as a cat, Maggie moved down the stairs and into the courtyard. She stayed in the shadows and watched as men began to gather. They wore black and carried swords. Jerome stood in the courtyard near the trapdoor. Each new arrival presented himself by laying his hand on Jerome’s shoulder. Jerome touched each of them and spoke words in a low voice.
At last they were all together, fifteen young men with strong arms and a steady fire in their eyes. Maggie watched as Jerome approached the trapdoor and beat out a rhythm upon it. It swung open and the men began their descent.
As the last man’s cloak disappeared below the ground, Maggie darted out from the shadows and slipped under the trapdoor even as it began to close. It shut behind her with a musty thud, plunging her into deep blackness. Just ahead of her she could see the faint lantern light of the men. She followed as quietly as she could.
The men wound their way through the underground passages, turning at the door where the rebels had gathered only a night before. The new corridor branched off in several directions, with no markings of any kind that Maggie could see to indicate where they would lead. From one, Maggie heard a distant roar. The men paused for a moment, and she heard Jerome’s voice.
“That way leads to the river,” he said. “It is a dangerous escape, especially now, when the river