The Woven End Page 11

  Persenimos!

  He never made a surprise visit before. She smiled.

  “You and I need to go riding,” he said.

  “Riding? Now?”

  “Now.”

  “I’ll send for my riding clothes.” She sat up and headed for the bellpull.

  “Nay, nay, nay,” he said. “Let’s go!”

  “We’re in our gowns!” She laughed.

  “What does that matter? Only servants are awake, and we have a whole blasted private world to ride on.”

  He took her hand. “The horses are saddled. Let’s go.”

  She laughed and shook her head.

  “What?”

  “What is this? You’ve gone crazy.”

  He laughed. “Nay.”

  He pulled her out of her room, and the two hurried outside. Sidita giggled the whole way, and she blushed red when a servant put her cloak over her shoulders. The servants, however, weren’t embarrassed. They seemed pleased with the insanity.

  The ride began slowly, but when their trotter’s hooves met the open fields, Persenimos gave a, “HAH!” and the trotter launched into a canter, gouging the grass. Sidita laughed and followed suit. The race was on, and Sidita’s snaggled hair whipped like a tattered banner behind her.

  Free. Enjoying the pleasures of life after the suffering necessary to feel them. The ground was frosted, the air was chilly and fresh, and the wooded area before them stood like a handsome good man amidst the dull gray of common boors.

  They called their trotters to a slower pace and met up with each other. Clearly, Persenimos won the race.

  “That’s better,” he said. “It never does to suck the spirit out of a woman’s soul with decorum and perfection. I’ve seen it happen before, and I care far too much to let it happen to you. Time to embrace the Bositian woman in you. If you look for strong women, it is the place.”

  They returned to the palace and ate a breakfast together in the king’s bedchamber.

  “I feel like a silly noble woman,” she said.

  Only nobles were up late in the Star fall and rose late in the Star rise. They had far more leisure than any common or royal in the Triland. Sidita never went so long without dressing in the Star rise. Cova raised Sidita according to both of their childhood upbringings among the Alchemines.

  She finished her breakfast and stood up. “I must get dressed. Thank you for the ride, darling. It’s always a pleasure to be with you.”

  He reached out and took her hand.

  “Don’t go,” he said.

  Her pulse quickened. Her knees turned to water. She avoided the bittersweet reunion as long as possible, but there was no question as to whether or not she should obey. The king's one-and-only bed chamber guest did not have the option of refusal. She willingly made herself his possession, after all.

  He stood up, imploring her with his eyes. He felt her hand shaking, and saw the blood rushing to her cheeks. His heart went out to her.

  “Please, don’t be afraid. Whatever happens, we will face it together. Always. I’m never going to abandon you in suffering or joy. I swear it upon the stars and my apar’s unraveled soul. Will you let fear loose from your soul and embrace hope again?”

  He ran his thumb along the back of the soft hand he held, then pulled her to himself and put his arms around her.

  “My desire for you is one of love. If there ever has been doubt in your mind, put it to rest. Unravel that beast of a fear and burn it in your fire lit eyes.”

  Her worries melted off of her. How could she forget that it would be just this way, just as natural as life?

  #

  After a few constellations, Sidita could not doubt that she was pregnant. She sent word to the king that she suspected a pregnancy. He sent for a midwife who confirmed the matter with a few palpitations, questions and measurements. Of course, no one could be certain until she felt movement in her womb. Still, there was little doubt.

  Late that Star fall, Persenimos came to visit her, unannounced. Sidita stood beside her bed as he jittered through proclamations of joy and hope. Nothing he said rang as truth to her. He forced the smile, frantically trying to muster optimism. After he left, she sat on her bed and considered the king's behavior with a breaking heart. It was on its way and she couldn't stop it. She would break it quickly, if she was brave enough.

  No one believed she could have a child anymore. It hurt her that Persenimos had to feign joyfulness and be so unintentionally patronizing to her. If all he felt was worry, then be honest!

  "Oh, that I would just stop conceiving altogether if life refuses to exist in my womb," she said aloud. "Senseless! If the spirits that formed life were maimed within me, why do they continue to form life that will flash with the fire of a human soul, but not permit it to continue on to full growth? Why should I not seek the life giving spirits and pluck them out? Were it possible, I would go to the task without hesitation, but life doesn't work that way." She sighed and repeated herself, "Life doesn't work that way. Nature doesn’t work that way. Suffering and pleasure. We can not change it."

  She did not sleep that Star fall. What if the king did the desperate thing this time? What if a mistress was the only solution? Sidita's insides ached. She imagined the moment when some woman would walk into their home and Sidita would watch her own husband enter his bed chamber with her. To take someone else into his own bed would be a trial for both of them.

  Mistresses aside, she could not bear one more loss. Her hopes for a child—the matter of an heir, forgotten— had been dashed to pieces as often as they were raised.

  Her feelings garbled the thoughts in her mind while she tried to make sense of the sudden rush of distress. Beyond emotional and into the fanatical, she plunged headlong. She sat bolt upright in her bed. She must cross the water. Determined, she entered the Sálverøld and passed through the wall to enter the palace gardens.

  The royal spectre passed through the city and journeyed across the waters as quickly as the air souls flowed. The world of colorful spirits flew by her as she pressed onward. The only things that remained constant were cool light blue souls of the water beneath her, mingled with the souls of the creatures it contained. The sky above her, a thick layer of shimmering silver, was the very entity that bestowed life and snatched it up again.

  She flew past Nidita. The dark countryside appeared to her soul as an array of light and color flying by her. She spared not a moment to look or admire, but moved on until she arrived at the governor's mansion, made up of the souls of its wood and stone, and the souls within it.

  Nat-Scrios greeted her. Startled by the mass of darkness that intercepted her, she stopped short.

  "How did you know I was coming?" She asked.

  It ignored her question. "Have you decided to take my offer? I see you have conceived?"

  She nodded her response to both questions. The slyte wrapped itself around her. As quickly as a falling star, she awakened to the moonlight in her room. Nat-Scrios was still with her.

  It set straight to business. "The tasks are not easy, but they are possible. It is not the movements or the actions, but the form, the care; the way in which you do them," Nat-Scrios explained. “The actions are not complex, but the fragile strands that you manipulate must be handled delicately. You accomplish weavings with ease when you have practiced. Tampering with human life gives you no opportunity to practice, yet you cannot make mistakes."

  Sidita understood.

  "Look at the soul in your womb."

  Because her own soul remained a mystery to her, she could not see where the connections were made or how they were made, but the soul, clear and bright like a star, shone for her; a glowing orb of gold, so new, young, and untainted. A fresh, golden soul. Within it, a small silver cord, just as every other human soul possessed. It was a living human being.

  Nat-Scrios touched Sidita.

  "The first step. There is a simple solution that I can accomplish without your help."

  Nat-Scrios touched h
er silver cord. Sidita felt something shift in her body.

  "The main cause of your losses is now remedied, but failure is still possible. If you want to be certain that nothing else will impede success, there are remaining steps."

  "I want nothing in the way. I must have this child," she said.

  "Then take the little soul out and look at it."

  The workings of its intricate being were not easy to see. It required much care to do anything with its spirits.

  "It is a male, Sidita. Do you see this?"

  She nodded.

  "You will prevent a young death by doing as I say. Set him before you."

  She left the soul floating in the air.

  Nat-Scrios instructed her. She reached in and took the tiny silver cord. She gently looped each end up, but as she did so, the fragile cord tore.

  If her soul could gasp, it did. She panicked.

  "Quickly, quickly, what am I to do? Nat-Scrios, what am I to do?"

  "It is not severed. Only torn. Finish the task. There. Right. Now, the circle has been made. See how it melds together? The only thing to repair a silver cord is to stitch it together with strands from another silver cord."

  "Anything. I will do anything!" She shrieked.

  Nat-Scrios guided Sidita along with cold spirits, as she reached into her own soul and blindly took a strand of her own silver cord. Nat-Scrios wrapped a thread of itself around the strand. The thread quickly dissolved into the cord, and Sidita, too frenzied to ask questions or notice the deed, set to weave her own cord's strand in and out of the tear in her son's cord. After a few moments the circled cord was bound together. All that remained of the accident was the absence of a single strand of her soul and a faint line resembling a scar on her son's silver cord.

  Suddenly weak, she felt herself involuntarily falling away from the Sálverøld.

  "Is there anything else?" She cried out.

  Nat-Scrios held her by its own strength and controlled her movements completely as it finished the task of perfecting an heir for Persenimos. Nat-Scrios bestowed frivolous things that would be appreciated among royalty. The boy had a guarantee for good looks, an immense intellect and thirst for knowledge, compassion and kindness. Sidita hadn't the strength to protest.

  The child's soul, perfected and untouchable, rested safely in Sidita's womb again. Nat-Scrios allowed Sidita to fall away to physical consciousness. She had a shard from a broken vase in her hand, and was bleeding from her arm.

  "If you want me to be with your son and cause him to prosper in all that he sets his hand to, I request only that you grant me a namesake in him. My name exists only in the shadows. Bring it to light."

  A surge of cold, like ice water, shot through her belly. She stumbled over to a bellpull and rang for a servant.

  "I…I must have been dreaming and did this in my sleep. I…"

  A small uproar awoke a good portion of the palace, including the king who sent for a physician immediately. The physician arrived in minutes and was nearly lifted off his feet and carried to the queen by the flurry of concerned servants.

  "She's lost a fair amount of blood,” The physician announced. “She sat too long without applying any pressure or taking measures to prevent the loss. She'll be alright, though. Give her plenty to drink, nutritious food, and rest. That is what I suggest, Your Majesty."

  The king nodded his agreement and sent the physician and servants away. Only Persenimos remained. He sat down at the foot of Sidita's bed, caressing her life with his steadfast stare.

  "Did you do this to yourself?" He asked her.

  "I told the servant. I've told everyone. I must have been dreaming. I have heard of those who walk in their sleep. They do strange things at times."

  She looked at the broken vase on the floor. No one thought to sweep it up.

  "No matter if you did this in your dreams or with your eyes wide open. I have put undue stress upon you by my behavior.”

  Sidita smiled a little. "This is no fault of yours, Your Majesty. My uncle has not been sent for, I hope?"

  He shook his head. "You do not want him to come?”

  "Nay. He does not need to."

  "Very well. You need to rest. I will stay with you…"

  Sidita clicked her tongue and looked on at him reproachfully.

  "Darling, really."

  He sat up straight. "I am the king, am I not? I will stay at your bedside for the Star fall if I wish."

  Sidita smiled. She would now give that good man an heir. The royal line would continue through Persenimos. Sidita’s smile opened further.

  "You are rather pleased for having a gash along your arm," he said as he turned to pull a chair up to the bedside. He settled into it.

  She sank down into her covers and quickly fell asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Only the stars looked down on the open field of Bos.

  A large slyte entered the scene. It swayed to-and-fro, awaiting something.

  A soul like dark wine, shimmering with liquid gold, appeared and stood beside the large slyte.

  Another slyte came from the woods in the distance and fast approached the place. Three more came from the direction of a nearby village. Before long, darkness filled the field as all the slytes of the Triland convened.

  “We hear that they are bringing the ragged one,” the large slyte said. “This will not end well.”

  The wine-gold soul said, “The ragged, named one only wishes for revenge.”

  The slytes remained in silence, an undulating sea of pitch.

  Two bright figures arrived, one a dull gold and the other blazing, but darkened, red. The humans made their way through the sea of shadows to stand before the largest of them. The wine-gold joined them. A slyte joined with them from the mass and trailed behind.

  "What is the status of your work?" Asked the large slyte. “We are aware of the more intense involvement of the named one.”

  "The named one has stepped in. It is in the palace in a place of prominence," said the gold soul.

  The slyte's being leapt like a flickering flame.

  Red spoke out, "The named one's plan will permit us to live through the inevitable Great Cold and rescue our world."

  The large slyte seemed to straighten itself up with pride. "The named one has killed its own kind. It is the only slyte who has ever performed such an act. It has done, knowingly, what only human souls might do, and only the Great Soul has the authority to do. Beasts kill one another without guilt, but human souls and slytes are another matter. How can we be assured of its loyalty to the cause as we see it?”

  “We are not,” answered the wine-gold.

  Red growled, “Brádach!”

  “We are shocked that you humans, with your instinct for self-preservation, would work with a murderer to aid you in that self-preservation. How can you be certain it will not turn on you?"

  “Do we have a choice?” asked the wine-gold.

  “Choice!” Gold piped up. “The world will end, man! This is the greatest chance we have!”

  "If there be any doubt, look on me and hear me," said the slyte, lurking behind the human souls.

  The sea of slytes flickered into the air with shock. A collective whisper, like the sound of a squeaking, scratching skovel nest, reverberated through the spirits of the Sálverøld.

  It had been among them all this time.

  "I will not turn on you. All I have done has been for the greater good of slytes. Slytes are now a part of human legends. Before long, they will be a part of human reality. It takes action, it takes risk, and it takes identity; one single identity. Gather yourselves as slytes, and you will survive under normal circumstances. Learn your true identity, and you will be unstoppable. You will be the Great Soul.

  “Only by unity in our art can we procure a means of survival under the abnormal circumstances we will face. We can fight against the edict of the Great Soul. When our amar burns down to the end—me—it will fizzle away into my darkness. This is how it will
be. The end. Cold brings only death. Whether we slytes live or not, our purpose remains unfulfilled forever until our progenitor finds love again. Is it even possible?

  “What shall we eat when there is no life? Not a drop of blood to be found. We lived for some time that way, but imagine eternity that way. We may face our own extinction. We have a symbiotic relationship that must be preserved. Therefore, we must create a new Star.”

  The slytes rustled once again.

  It continued, “I contain a piece of that Star. We slytes cannot love, but the child I dwell in will grow and love. He cannot die. With the power strand, this slytish incarnation will need only a fellow human with the ability to draw passionate love from his heart. We must wait for the right time, but I believe it will work. A new Star will be produced. We are experts in the spirits, and I think you will all agree that this is not just an assumption.

  “If the Great Soul has higher regard for his tender feelings than he does his own offspring—a fact evidenced by his treatment of me—we must stand for ourselves!

  "Therefore, I tell you that it is not for me that I do as I do. It is for all of us. Without us there is no art or creation. I am nothing without all of you, and yet with you all I…I am Nat-Scrios."

  The impassioned delivery of its brief speech stirred the slytes. Only the large slyte remained unmoved.

  "This change of circumstances leads us to ask for a new explanation and a new set of stipulations."

  "What does my presence in the matter harm, great slyte?" Nat-Scrios asked.

  The bold question enraged the large slyte. "You are forbidden from our gatherings, you deformed anomaly! Yet here you are, demanding I answer your questions."