Gillian Anderson - A Dream of Ice

“She is an enlightened soul,” Enzo said defensively.

“She is a fanatic with a Candescent obsession.”

“ She is a fanatic?” Enzo laughed. “We have long believed that you are the fanatic.”

“Isn’t every expeditionary commander?” Azha shot back. “Do you think it is easy pushing the boundaries of our farming efforts farther and farther from the city where the winds and cold are—”

“That isn’t what your sister means,” Dovit interrupted. “Your well-known defiance of—”

“The Candescent Doctrine?” Azha cut him off, adding hand gestures to her words, small but emphatic arcs and angles.

“Farmers complained that you preached it on every voyage you ever took, while they were aloft in the ropes where they could not escape hearing,” Dovit said. “ ‘Seed the clouds with jasmine, don’t search the tiles for bones. Embrace the breath of life, not the stones of death.’”

“Mine was a voice of moderation”—Azha poked her own chest—“something to balance the street-corner oratory of all your mindless followers. You and your kind are ripping us apart!”

“You talk of rigid pragmatism as if it were the only way,” Enzo said accusatorily.

“It is my way,” Azha said. “I accepted exile not only for my deed but because I’ve had enough! The Technologist Source may work, some day, and perhaps so will the cazh of the Priests, some day.” She gestured angrily to the sky. “But the Candescents? There is no proof that they are up there. There is no evidence that they are listening for you, or for you, Dovit. You simply believe, based on legends, that they are waiting to absorb you. And while you seek them, you miss life itself.”

“The word of a naysayer is not evidence,” Enzo said.

“How about the fact that they’re gone ?” Azha muttered. “Is that not evidence? If they ever lived at all.”

“They lived,” Enzo said. “And what is ‘gone’?” Enzo asked temperately, before answering her own question. “Only their bodies. Only that.”

“ ‘Only their bodies,’” Azha sneered. “That’s all? You’re ridiculous.”

“Azha,” Dovit said gently. “That is not appropriate, or fair. And you know, I have always listened to both sides. I have advocated the Source and I have advocated the cazh .”

Azha could feel her anger rising and she began making larger gestures to communicate that. She turned, shook her head slowly. “And that is why I love you, Dovit. You are a moderate voice.”

The wicker basin shuddered. The trio looked up, out, and then back at each other.

“A deadly antique,” Azha sighed.

Dovit smiled. “It is so old it smells of the jasmine fleet it used to lead.”

Azha moved to the ropes, tugging in frustration, and cast her eyes with conviction and longing to the east, away from the city, toward a darkening horizon. “We must set down before long. It’s strange but I have long wanted to explore the vast ice-locked eastern lands. The great birds of air and land survive somewhere out there , outside our great oasis.”

“We will find it and learn to live as they do,” Dovit said confidently. “Eating fish, creating water from ice and sun, making clothes from the dead of the sea.”

The balloon shuddered again and this time, it did not fully reinflate.

Dovit stepped behind Azha and embraced her. “Hope,” he said, “has an enemy in unfavorable wind currents.”

Azha looked at him, trying to smile at his soft candor. “Thank you, Dovit, for being here. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

Enzo regarded them. “Sister,” she said. “Now that we are away from the state—tell me, who wishes to activate the Source?”

Azha turned to look at her. “Why? Why does that still matter to you?”

“Like Dovit, I chose to join you in exile,” Enzo said. “I have given up everything. I want to know why… for whom.”

Azha shook her head. “I will not say. I do not want this to color our lives in any way.”

“It is a Priest?” Enzo said.

Azha regarded her suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

Enzo looked back at the glimmering towers of Galderkhaan, the setting sun darting through the sharp spires. “Please tell me!”

Dovit and Azha both regarded the young woman.

“I will not!” Azha said. “Enzo, what is wrong?”

“What Dovit said about the subterranean tunnels,” she said. “It will be a catastrophe. The Priests must stop this.” Enzo’s eyes were wide, helpless. “Please! Tell me the name!”

A shudder ran through Azha; it was not caused by the failing airship but by a sudden realization.

“Enzo, you came to spy on me? But—how would you have gotten the information back to Galderkhaan? You could not survive the journey on foot or make it in time!”

“I would not need to,” Enzo replied. The woman smiled sadly as she regarded her sister. “Azha, I love you, even beyond death.”

Azha heard the strange finality in Enzo’s voice, the distant look in her eyes… a look that fastened on the fading, distant towers of their home.

Just then a loud flapping sound drew their attention up. Above, they saw yet another ripple in the skin of the dirigible, larger than before. Once again, the tube-shaped balloon failed to pop back into its correct structure. There was a lurch, and the airship began to drop, slowly at first. But they all realized it would pick up speed as it fell.

As Azha grasped the side of the gondola for support, she failed to see Enzo reach into her pocket and pull out a small, clear vessel filled with a yellow liquid.

“ Fera-cazh …,” Enzo began.

Azha spun toward her sister with alarm. “What are you doing!?” she screamed. “Enzo, no!” Azha lunged at her sister, reaching for the vial and Enzo’s throat at the same time. “ Glogharasor! ” she shrieked. “You doom us all! I’ll throw you over before you set fire to my ship!”

But the ship heaved as huge repeating ripples made the balloon look like it was full of water. The three grabbed handholds as the gondola tilted and the shuddering, tipping airship fell faster from the sky. In no time at all they were seeing the sharp details of the rapidly approaching ice field below.

Enzo opened her vial and emptied the oil over herself. “Tell me the name of the one who betrays our people!” she shouted at her sister.

“ Don’t do this! ” Azha implored.

Enzo dropped the bottle and regarded her sister. “Please—tell me!”

“Why? We’re not—we cannot —turn back!”

“There is no need! I will remember it after—”

“After you die ?” Azha raged. “You are too far from the stones—you won’t be able to tell anyone!”

“Azha,” yelled Dovit, “take my hands.”

“No!”

“For once, trust !” Dovit pleaded. “Repeat the cazh with me! Believe that even if you believe in nothing else!”

Azha realized it was too late to save the airship or themselves and reluctantly called out the name. Despite the wind screeching all around them, Enzo heard it and began to chant.

Aytah fera-cazh grymat ny-haydonai pantar, pantar ida … Aytah fera-cazh grymat ny-haydonai pantar, pantar ida.

Dovit did likewise, firmly holding both of Azha’s hands. Reluctantly, she joined him.

The ship lurched again and jolted until it was nose-down, plunging like a comet toward a gigantic crevasse.

And then the ice field seemed to suck the great airship into itself, bashing the gondola against the walls of the crevasse, shredding the deflated balloon. Screaming and barely holding on, Azha sought Dovit’s eyes.