Season of Glory (32 page)

The fire fully engulfed the pyre, as it did the countless other pyres across the
field. The women began ringing their bells in a rhythmic toll, beginning slowly and
gradually gaining speed until the pyres collapsed in on themselves, wood falling
on top of the bodies as if claiming them again, welcoming them back to the earth.

The bells tolled in swift succession, their somber sounds filling my ears and seeming
to somehow echo the black smoke that rose to the cloudy sky and then disappeared.

Then, all at once, the bells ceased, their last notes hovering in the air.

Only the crackle of the super-hot fires, the sniffling of men and women, the quiet
weeping of the bereaved, now filled our ears.

It was over. We turned and processed in silence down the hill, through the smoke
that drifted across the dried grass.

My tears spent, I heaved a sigh and was thankful for the quiet skies, that it was
the ceremonial bells we heard, not Aravander alarm bells. Zanzibar had moved out
in full force from the city and had mobilized as many of their Drifter minions as
possible to erect a desert post, guarding the mouth of the Valley over the last week.
Apparently, that had set Sethos back a bit to consider strategy. Whatever drove him
to leave us alone, I thanked the Maker for it. We needed this time to grieve Chaza'el.
To come together in his honor. And somehow, the thought made me think he'd seen this
brief respite coming, which made me smile.

Ronan and I walked a few paces behind Keallach and Kapriel. I thought I'd feel more
wary of Keallach, more watchful around him, worried that he might abuse his newfound
power. They appeared as princes now, wearing thick, white capes trimmed in animal
fur. The capes had been a gift from the elders two nights ago—a costly gift, but
we all liked it. Visually, it united the brothers and presented a stark contrast
to the blood-red capes the Sheolites and trackers favored.

The two were in earnest conversation, and at one point Kapriel lifted his chin and
smiled at his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder as they walked.

“It's as if they'd never parted,” Ronan said, face a bit skewed in wonder. Fat snowflakes
were now falling from the dark clouds above us, and I pulled my own thick Aravander
cape more tightly around me. “As if there was never bad blood between them.”

“It's as it was always meant to be,” I said, glad for it with every measure within
me. “The power of the Maker to make wrong, right.”

“Indeed,” Ronan agreed.

When we reached the Citadel, we saw twelve men and women return to their task of
trying to leverage a boulder to one side, helping to create a renewed barrier at
the entrance. The missiles and Sheolite dynamite had created a small crater that
had once been a field of boulders, blocking any direct, mass attack. Together, the
group hung on and pressed down on the thick post they used as lever, but after a
moment, it cracked, as if in outright refusal to budge the belligerent stone. Several
of the workers let out sounds of disgust, and I saw there were several other beams
that had also broken.

“Allow my brother to do this,” Kapriel said, gesturing toward Keallach.

Keallach's eyebrows curved together in surprise. “Are you certain?”

“Why not?” Kapriel asked. “The gifts of the Maker are almost better used to serve
the Community than they are to repel our enemies.”

“Agreed,” Keallach said. “Please, friends,” he said to the workers. “Stand aside.”

They scrambled over the ledge and closer to us, their combined curiosity making me
want to burst with hope and excitement. Keallach bent his head in prayer and then
lifted his hands, as if holding the boulder in the distance. Then he turned his cupped
hands, as if turning the boulder itself, and the giant stone began to move. People
gasped and shouted as the crowds caught up in time to see what the newest Remnant
could do.

And what he could do was impressive. Over and over, the boulder rolled, across smaller
rocks, all the way to the left side of the entrance. “About there?” he asked the
man in charge of the task, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth.

“That'll do, Prince Keallach,” said the man with a nod.

“Anything else?” Keallach asked.

Surprise made the man's eyes widen and then narrow in consideration. “Well, if it's
not too taxing, if you could move this”—he went over to another massive boulder,
bigger than the last—“next to the first one. We hope to create another rolling stone
barrier.”

“Done,” Keallach said, bending his head again. Then he repeated the actions.

We all watched in wonder as Keallach mentally rearranged the stone debris to reconstruct
the gateway, increasing its defensibility and strength even beyond what we'd had
before. When he was done, sweat poured down his face, and his shirt clung to his
damp chest, but he'd refused to stop. The workers turned and applauded him, and so
did we.

“Rather convenient to have such gifts on our side, don't you think?” Vidar quipped
from my side. Kapriel was turning snow in the air, grinning as the people exclaimed
while he cast the streams of white in an elegant coil upward.

“That is what Sethos longed to control,” Ronan said. “Both the twins, on his side,
rather than on ours.”

“It was a clever plan,” I said. “Even when Keallach was with him, it kept Kapriel
from all he was meant to be.” I gestured toward him. “It was if he'd been hobbled.
Now . . .”

Now we could both see. When we'd been called, we'd had no idea that the twins might
be a part of our divinely appointed circle. And with them both gaining full command
of their gifting and our people, it felt like we had a hundred helicopters at our
disposal.

We entered the Citadel and made our way to the gathering hall for a meeting that
Kapriel and Keallach had called. Joining us were the elders in the first few rows,
those in our inner circles above them, and then as many others as the room could
hold. I was a bit surprised at how crowded it was, but many were anxious to know
what was next and how we planned on responding to the threat of more attacks.

When the twins stood, the room grew silent.

Kapriel stepped forward, his face grim, as Keallach took a seat. “Brothers and sisters,
thank you for meeting with us today. Niero, Keallach, and I have been talking at
length over these last days, as we grieved our dead and started to rebuild. No one
knows what Sethos, the Council, and Pacifica are capable of better than Keallach
and Cyrus. And what they have shared with me is frightening. Not only does Pacifica
plan to dominate the Trading Union—usurp her into the empire—but they also plan on
eradicating every one of the faithful within those new borders. They shall not take
us prisoner or enslave our children—their mission is simply to murder every one of
us and anyone associated with us, in an attempt to eradicate people of the Way, now
and forever.”

He paused and swallowed hard as many people in the room either gasped or shouted
in outrage. “We've seen it here, ourselves,” he went on, gesturing toward the passageways.
“They did not spare our children. Their goal is genocide. They have finally figured
out that you might outlaw naming or worshiping the Maker, but you cannot stop it
from happening inside us.” He put his hand on his chest. “The faithful will remain
forever faithful, because persecution only sends
us into deeper, more hidden territory
where we can be free to worship and live as our hearts demand.”

He lifted his chin and looked slowly around the room. “Brothers and sisters, Keallach
and I feel it is time to come out from hiding. To cease running. To reclaim what
we were born to govern—Pacifica herself. We believe it is not wise to remain here,
awaiting the next attack. We believe it is time to take the fight to our enemies
and destroy those that threaten our goal to return life, in its fullest, to every
person, in every land we can touch.”

I stared at him as I absorbed the collective mix of surprise, chagrin, and pride
that swirled about the room. We Ailith knew what was coming; what we didn't know
was how our people might react. Everyone began to speak and shout at once. I saw
Azarel and Asher share a troubled look, as if this wasn't what they expected out
of Kapriel. I supposed they'd spent years trying to rescue their prince from the
prison in Pacifica; the last thing they'd imagined was his returning to that land.
But Niero stood behind the brothers, in full support.

It was then that I saw it. Kapriel and Keallach thought of themselves as superior.
Born to be co-regents, with undeniably the strongest gifts among us.

I checked myself. Was I jealous? Was I being petty, because I somehow felt left out
or less-than? Was this simply another echo of the evil that Sethos had planted in
my heart, coming out at a critical juncture when the twins most needed my support?

No
, Niero said to me silently.
It's simply a shift in the dynamics of the Ailith.
Stay together, as close as possible. Refuse anything that divides you.

Tressa rose from her seat, and I looked to her in surprise. She rarely spoke in larger
groups, unless pressed. “The Way
is a path of peace,” she said, her voice high and
clear. “The Way is a path of healing and joy. It is one thing to defend ourselves
from the enemy; it is quite another to attack.” She looked to our brothers. “But
the Maker has led us to this place. Given us the opportunity to free those our enemies
have enslaved and protect ourselves from the coming slaughter. I fully stand behind
this plan. We will enter Pacifica, and in time there will be others there who come
to know the gifts the Way brings.”

“There is nothing that surprises the Maker,” Kapriel said. “And we believe,” he said,
pausing to look at his brother, “that he plans to use us all to usher in a time of
peace. Of hope, for a weary world on the brink. Are we not an example of what could
be, here in the Citadel?” He looked up and around the room. “Even after we've suffered
terrible losses?”

People nodded and murmured their assent.

“It is one thing to win over people who have nothing to lose,” said a Drifter, rising
to his feet. “It is another thing to win people who have everything they need.”

More sounds of assent rose around the room.

“But they
don't
have everything they need,” Kapriel put in. “They worship nothing
but themselves. Their women make up their faces, as if to say they are above death.
Immortal. And yet they are plagued by infertility, when they each long for new life
above all else. Children of their own.”

“And so they steal ours!” called out a woman from Georgii Post.

Keallach took a deep breath and looked to me. “It is true. Pacificans are in as dire
need of the Way as any others. And if we were to lead them, if we had their resources
at our fingertips, there would be plenty for all in the Trading Union.”

“At what cost to them?” I asked. “Are you so certain that the people of Pacifica
would agree to share, if it meant they had less?” I'd seen them firsthand. Witnessed
their wealth. And was not at all certain they would give way to generosity.

“Not with Sethos and the Council leading them,” Keallach responded. “We cannot win
over the people of Pacifica if her dark guardians block our path or, worse, succeed
in their goal of killing us. They have to be eradicated. It's us or them.”

The room erupted with applause and shouts. We were weary of being the hunted. Power
surged in and through us. Was this truly our time?

I swallowed hard, remembering the sheer, dark hate in Sethos's eyes, in Lord Jala's
too. And how they'd sent those Sheolites into the Citadel, bent on tracking me down,
killing me. They'd murdered Chaza'el. Tried to kill Vidar.

Keallach's eyes sparkled when he saw that he'd managed to give me something significant
to consider. “You know it's true. More than any other here, Andriana, because you've
seen it yourself. They shall be relentless in their pursuit of us. You think the
last attack was the worst they can bring us?” He waved upward. “Despite our gifting,
they will continue to find ways to surprise us, murdering us one by one, as they
did Chaza'el. They will not be planning just a few more attacks upon us here, hoping
to take one Remnant each time. They will plan on
waves
of attacks.” Cyrus nodded,
behind him.

“So what do you propose?” Vidar asked. “Lay a trap for the dragon and cut off his
head?”

Bellona said, “We could lay waste to the aqueduct feeding their cities. And when
they come to repair it . . .” She lifted a brow as others loudly agreed around her.

“Except Sethos is far too clever for that,” Keallach said, lifting his hands to settle
them, his tone reasonable, not condescending. “And his intention is to focus on
offense, rather than defense. He'll know that the losses of our people will galvanize
us. That it will press us to become more vigilant in our defenses. I believe it is
only because Zanzibar has come to our aid, setting up a defensive force in the desert
even this day, that they have not yet come again. But they
will
come. They will send
countless Pacificans to their deaths in relentless fighting, hoping that, in time,
they'll be lucky and kill one or two of the Ailith and elders here, another couple
there, until every leader you have is gone and our various tribes again scatter.”
His eyes narrowed, and his jaw muscles flexed as he looked about the room. “They
are determined—as I once was with them—to eradicate the faithful and all who follow
or support us. Because they want
domination
.”

“Am I not the perfect example of that?” Kapriel said softly, stepping forward. His
words hung in the air. “Sethos hoped I would die in that island prison, or turn from
the Way. Next time, he won't wait.”