Margaret Weis - Amber and Ashes

“You are Mina,” he replied.

“And who is Mina?” she asked.

Galdar could only stare at her, helpless.

They had this conversation often, almost every day. They had it again this morning. This time, though, Galdar’s answer was different. He had been thinking long about this and when she said, “Who is Mina?” he responded quietly, “Goldmoon knew who you were, Mina. In her eyes you could see yourself. You didn’t see Takhisis.”

Mina considered this.

Looking back on her life, she saw it divided into three parts.

The first was childhood. Those years were nothing but a blur of color, fresh paint that someone had smeared with a soaking wet sponge.

The second was Goldmoon and the Citadel of Light.

Mina had no memory of the shipwreck or of being washed overboard or whatever had happened to bet For her memory—and life had begun when she opened her eyes to find herself wet and water-logged, lying in the sand, looking up at a group of people who had gathered around her, people who spoke to her with loving compassion.

They asked her what had happened to her.

She didn’t know.

They asked her name.

She didn’t know that either.

They would eventually conclude that she had been the survivor of a shipwreck—though no ships had been reported missing. Her parents were presumed to have been lost at sea. That theory seemed most likely, since no one ever came searching for her.

They said it was not unusual that she remembered nothing of her past, for she had suffered a severe blow to the head, which often accounted for memory loss.

They took her to a place they called the Citadel of Light, a wondrous place of warmth and radiance and serenity. Looking back on this time, Mina could not ever remember gray skies in connection with the Citadel, though she knew there must have been days of wind and storm. For her, the years she spent there, from the age of nine to fourteen, were lit by the sun gleaming on the crystal walls of the Citadel. Lit by the smile of the woman who came to be dear to her as a mother—the founder of the Citadel Goldmoon.

They told Mina that Goldmoon was a hero, a famous person all over Ansalon. Her name-was spoken with love and respect in every part of that continent. Mina didn’t care about any of that. She cared only that when Goldmoon spoke to her, she spoke to her with gentle kindness and with love. Although a busy person, Goldmoon was never too busy to answer Mina’s questions, and Mina loved to ask questions.

Goldmoon was old when Mina first met her, as old as a mountain, the girl used to think. Goldmoon’s hair was white, her face lined with deep sorrow and deeper joy, lines of loss and grief, lines of finding and hope. Her eyes were young as laughter, young as tears and—Galdar was right. Looking back through time, Mina could see herself in Goldmoon’s eyes.

She saw a girl growing too fast, awkward and gawky, with long red hair and amber-colored eyes. Every night, Goldmoon would brush the red hair that was thick and luxurious, and answer all the questions Mina had thought up during the day. When her hair was brushed and plaited and she was ready for her bed, Goldmoon would take Mina onto her lap and tell her stories of the lost gods.

Some of the stories were dark, for there were gods who ruled the dark passions that are in every man’s heart. There were gods of light in opposition to the gods of dark. Gods who ruled all that was good and noble in mankind. The dark gods struggled endlessly to gain ascendancy over mankind. The gods of light worked ceaselessly to oppose them. The neutral gods held the scales of balance. All mankind stood in the middle, each man free to choose his or her own destiny, for without freedom, men would die, as the caged bird dies, and the world would cease to be.

Goldmoon enjoyed telling Mina the stories, but Mina could tell that the stories made her adopted mother sad, for the gods were gone and man was left alone to struggle along as best he could. Goldmoon had made a life for herself without the gods, but she missed them and she longed more than anything for them to return.

“When I am grown,” Mina would often say to Goldmoon, “I will go out into the world, and I will find the gods and bring them back to you.”

“Ah, child,” Goldmoon would answer with the smile that made her eyes bright, “your search should carry you no farther than here.” She placed her hand on Mina’s heart. “For though the gods are gone, their memory is born in each of us: memories of eternal love and endless patience and ultimate forgiveness.”

Mina didn’t understand. She had no memory of anything from birth. Looking back, she saw nothing except emptiness and darkness. Every night, when she lay alone in the darkness in her room, she would pray the same prayer.

“I know you are out there somewhere. Let me be the one to find you. I will be your faithful servant. I swear it! Let me be the one to bring knowledge of you to the world.”

One night, when Mina was fourteen, she made that same prayer, made it as fervently and earnestly as she had on the very first night she had ever prayed it. And, on this night, there came an answer.

A voice spoke to her from the darkness.

“I am here, Mina. If I will tell you how to find me, will you come to me?”

Mina sat up eagerly in bed. “Who are you? What is your name?”

“I am Takhisis, but you will forget that. For you, I have no name. I need no name, for I am alone in the universe, the sole god, the one god.”

“I will call you the One God, then,” said Mina. Jumping out of bed, she hastily dressed herself, made ready to travel. “Let me go tell Mother where I am going—”

“Mother,” Takhisis repeated in scorn and anger. “You have no mother. Your mother is dead.”

“I know,” said Mina, faltering, “but Goldmoon has become my mother. She is dearer to me than anyone, and I must tell her that I am leaving, or when she finds that I am gone, she will be worried.”

The voice of the goddess changed, no longer angry but sweetly crooning. “You must not tell her or that would ruin the surprise. Our surprise—yours and mine. For the day will come when you will return to tell Goldmoon that you have found the One God, the ruler of the world.”

“But why can’t I tell her now?” Mina demanded.

“Because you have not yet found me,” Takhisis replied sternly. “I am not even certain you are worthy. You must prove yourself. I need a disciple who is courageous and strong, who will not be deterred by unbelievers or swayed by naysayers, who will face pain and torment without flinching. All this you must prove to me. Do you have the courage, Mina?”

Mina trembled, terrified. She didn’t think she did have the courage. She wanted to go back to her bed, and then she thought of Goldmoon and how wonderful the surprise would be. She imagined Goldmoon’s joy when she saw Mina coming to her, bringing with her a god.

Mina laid her hand over her heart. “I have the courage, One God. I will do this for my adopted mother.”

“That is as I would wish it,” said Takhisis, and she laughed as though Mina had said something funny.

Thus began the third part of Mina’s life, and if the first was a blur and the second was light, the third was shadow. Acting on the One God’s command, Mina ran away from the Citadel of Light. She sought out a ship in the harbor and went onboard. The ship had no crew. Mina was the only person aboard, yet the wheel turned, the sails raised and lowered; all tasks were accomplished by unseen hands.

The ship sailed over waves of time and carried her to a place that she seemed to have known forever yet just this moment discovered. In this place, Mina first beheld the face of the Dark Queen, and she was beautiful and awful, and Mina bowed down and worshipped her.