Elizabeth Haydon - Rhapsody - Child of Blood

“Undoubtedly. The amulet imparted that gift of sight, which caused the red eyes that Saltar had when he wore it, and I experienced when I was holding it. Anyway, I think that’s the entire story, or at least as much of it as I was able to discern. There is one more interesting aspect, however, and it has to do with your name, Achmed—your old one, that is.”

“Oh?”

Rhapsody fumbled in her pack and dug out a scrap of oilcloth with a smudged charcoal rubbing.

“Do you remember this?”

“Indeed.” His strange eyes gleamed with intensity in the dark.

“You said the plaque you took this off of was adhered to a block of obsidian.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Grunthor interjected.

“And we postulated that it might be the altar stone of the All-God’s temple that the inscription refers to.”

“Yes.”

“The altar stone was captured when Tsoltan destroyed that temple in the name of his goddess, the Devourer, the deity of Void, long before he captured your name. He used the stone as an altar of blood sacrifice.” Rhapsody examined his face, looking for indications of emotion, but none were apparent. “I believe it was within that stone that your name was once imprisoned.”

“Makes sense.”

“I assume this means that the victorious forces in the Seren War reclaimed the stone, and rededicated it to the God of Life, which I think was an earlier name of the All-God, though of course the amulet has no recollection of that. I did get a clear image of Tsoltan’s panic when he discovered you had slipped the lead. I’m sorry I couldn’t have shown it to you; it would have been a source of great amusement for you, I’m sure. Maybe someday I will write a comic ode about it. So, are we ready, then?”

The king and the Sergeant looked at each other, then nodded. Together the three walked back to the windy meadow where the amulet lay, staring blindly at the stars.

“Do you know what you’re doin’, Duchess?” Grunthor asked.

“Nope.”

The giant Bolg blinked. “All right; Oi suppose there’s somethin’ to be said for wingin’ it.”

The Singer smiled. “I thought you might see it that way.” As the wind settled on her she closed her eyes, then drew the sword from her belted scabbard, a steel sheath wrought in Achmed’s forges and lined with the black stone stalactite in which she had found it. As Daystar Clarion came forth it sang with life, a sound that sent silver chills down each of their spines.

Rhapsody stood in the reflection of the flames licking the blade, gleaming below the fire with an ethereal light. She let its heat wash over her face, illuminating her hair until she glowed like a beacon in the dark meadow, shining at the crest of the mountains.

She matched her Naming note to the song of the sword and felt its power fill her, rumbling through her soul like a glorious symphony. As the power of the fire rose in crescendo, she opened her eyes and searched the sky for the star she had found. It was the sailor’s star, Maurinia, small and intensely blue, hovering above the Prime Meridian.

Once again as she had in her dream, she heard her mother’s voice in her mind.

Fire is strong. But starfire was born first; it is the more powerful element. Use the fire of the stars to cleanse yourself, and the world, of the hatred that took us.

Rhapsody took a deep breath and raised her sword to the stars. She felt its music surge, ringing through her soul. She pointed the sword at Maurinia, and felt the voice of the star answer back, singing in exquisite harmony. She closed her eyes once more and called its name.

The crags of the mountains above and around them were suddenly illuminated by an ethereal light. It bathed the fields and canyon with silver splendor, making the darkness of night appear as bright as midday. Their three tiny shadows flickered black in the brilliance, then were utterly swallowed, making their bodies shine with a translucent radiance.

With an earsplitting roar, a searing flame descended, hotter than the fires from the Earth’s core. It struck the golden amulet and the slab it lay upon, blasting the enormous rock into fragments of molten dust. The three shielded their eyes from the blinding light as it consumed the dell and everything within it.

A moment later, it was gone, leaving nothing but the finest ash on the ground in the hidden place where the symbol had been.

Grunthor took hold of Rhapsody’s shoulders.

“Ya all right, darlin’?”

She nodded imperceptibly. She was staring intently ahead, trying to capture the voice in her mind. It wafted on the wind, traveling away from her, whispering as it left.

Then I will rest in peace until you see me again.

“Rhapsody?”

She continued to watch, to listen with every fiber of her soul, until she could hear the voice no longer.

Grunthor’s massive arms pulled her against him, wrapping comfortingly around her shoulders. Rhapsody blinked. It was as if she was saying goodbye to the last vestige of her dead family in the presence of the living one she still was part of. In the aftermath of the star-fire she felt morose, lost, as if the grief she was now left with was threatening to consume her. And it was held at bay only by the strong arms, and the comforting words, of her friends, these two she had adopted as brothers in a back alley a lifetime ago.

Rhapsody cleared her lungs with a deep, cleansing breath. Then she turned to the two Bolg, who were watching her with varying degrees of anxiety.

“Well, that’s done. Now what?”

Beneath his hood, Achmed smiled.

“Back to work. Grunthor and I have a lot of clean-up in the wake of our little excursion to the Hidden Realm. With the exception of the Hill-Eye, all the mountain clans, the clans of the Heath, and everyone throughout the Outer Teeth is united. Now it’s just a matter of implementing the plan. Oh, and a rather large funeral.”

She nodded. “Have you dug the graves?”

The king blinked. “I assumed we were going to commit them to the forge.” He flinched at the look of revulsion that swept over her face.

“No. Definitely not,” she said, shuddering. “With the exception of the Nain that died there, the bodies we found when we first discovered the forges, it’s not suitable for any future cremations to take place there.”

“Why not?”

“First, it’s a place of building and creation now, and that would be an act of destruction, however necessary an act it may be. Second, and far more important, whereas Lirin commit the bodies of their race to the wind and stars through the fire of the funeral pyre, the Bolg are children of the Earth, not the sky. It is proper to bury them within the Earth that was their home in their lifetimes.”

Achmed shrugged. “All right, I’ll yield to your vastly superior knowledge of death rituals. The Bolg are lucky to have a Singer of their own to sing their dirges.” He watched the clouds come back into her eyes again. “What’s the matter?”

When she didn’t answer, he took her by the arm.

“We’re safe, Rhapsody. The amulet’s gone, along with the last of the Shing. We know that Tsoltan is dead, and it seems certain the F’dor spirit died with him after all. We can now go about the process of building up Ylorc without delay. The challenge stretches out before us, well within our grasp. We don’t have to hide anymore, don’t need to mourn. It’s time to move on.”

She looked up at him and smiled, a shadow of sadness unmistakable in her eyes.

“Perhaps for you,” she said.

The afternoon sun glinted sporadically over the mountainside as Rhapsody climbed through the rock ledges that faced the Teeth to the heath at the top of the world.