Hugh Howey - Molly Fyde and the Fight for Peace

“What the flank—?”

Cole traced the soaring flight of the Wadi as the next blur whizzed by to join its mate. The wings popped straight, the breadth of them several lengths of a man, and up the creature went, its colorful scales bursting with brilliance as it left the shade and met the light of the twin stars above.

Cole turned to Molly, wondering if she knew about any of this. He felt his own mouth agape as her hands clutched his flightsuit with a renewed vitality. He turned and saw her looking up at the two circling Wadi, a wide smile on her face, tears welling up in her eyes.

“So beautiful,” she whispered.

Cole wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands resting on her hips. They watched in silence as the two animals spiraled up on great, unflapping wings, catching the strong Winds of Drenard. They forgot about the third Wadi until its head emerged beside them, its claws gripping the edge of the cave.

The sudden presence startled Cole, but Molly was unnerved. She moved around him and stepped closer to the animal as it extricated itself from the tunnel and unfolded its wide wings.

Molly reached out, her palm down, her fingers extended as if to touch the Wadi, but she didn’t move any closer. Cole watched as she stood there, arm outstretched, eyes closed. It was like watching someone communicate with a red band on. Her face flashed with emotions, and tears that seemed not for sadness rolled down her cheeks.

Cole waited, transfixed, while the two seemed to share something between them.

After a moment, the Wadi strode forward, two large wings extending from where most Wadi bore ancient nubs. It bent low to the stone, flexed its spindly legs, then threw itself up in the air with a shuddering leap.

The wings did the rest, catching the perpetual winds of Drenard, powering the animal up and into the bright light, soaring high to circle mightily with its newborn brethren.

Anlyn Hooo stood before the clockwise gate of the great Pinnacle. If she imagined Drenard’s thin habitable band as a ring, this was the jewel on top, the meeting place for the Great Circle, walled off from the winds and filled to bursting with the flora and fauna of the Milky Way’s lusher worlds. A haven for life, the Pinnacle forever stood as a reminder to the Circle of what they fought for.

Two ornate gates led through those high stone walls, one entrance on either side of the ring. Anlyn surveyed one of those gates, collecting herself. She could feel her heart fluttering with some unknown alloy of nerves and excitement. She could hear the trill of cloudswifts from beyond the walls, their high pitched laughter seeming to beckon her inside. She was only dimly aware of the guards to either side of the gate, standing at attention and awaiting her signal to open them.

Anlyn considered the unthinkable event she was about to step into, the forbidden joy hidden deep within those tall walls. As she pondered the occasion, she became mutely aware of her escorts standing to either side of her. The significance of the moment washed over her for quite some time, and when the sensations ebbed, she remembered that people were waiting on her. So she rallied her nerves, stretched herself to her full height, and nodded to the gatesmen.

Oiled hinges and perfectly balanced steel swung silently open. Anlyn grasped her outer tunics, held their edges off the stone walk, and stepped through the arch of the clockwise gate and into the great and gorgeous Pinnacle.

The colors and vibrant hues immediately assaulted her senses.

Anlyn saw that the Pinnacle had been draped in its finest celebratory regalia. The predominate shades were orange and blue, customary wedding hues symbolizing the union of hot and cold and serving as a temporary celebration of each. But there were other colors mixed in: The bright yellows of hope, the black of peace, even the purple of empire. It seemed every banner, bunting, and flag from a hundred settled worlds had been gathered on Drenard and raised for the occasion, even though Anlyn doubted Ryke’s rifts would be abused for such a trifle as herself.

As she wandered into the full splendor of the bountiful decorations, Anlyn felt herself purple in embarrassment at the ostentatious show. It was a lot more than she had expected for such a simple affair, especially since her union remained controversial for so many; she knew it was still whispered among her people with sideways glances. Anlyn turned to Molly and her Aunt Ralei—her two chosen bridal escorts—to gauge their reactions to the festive gardens.

Molly was smiling from ear to ear, a welcomed sight to Anlyn’s eyes. Her dear friend had done her best to feign happiness the past weeks, trying not to chill Anlyn’s warmth, but Anlyn could forever sense that a deep ice had taken hold of Molly’s heart. Watching part of that coolness melt, seeing her friend’s eyes flit about, her cheeks blush as Molly struggled to take it all in—it was enough for Anlyn to justify the ludicrous lengths the decorators and gardeners had gone to.

Anlyn looked next to her Aunt Ralei and saw that the elder statesman was ignoring their surroundings. Her eyes were fixed solely on Anlyn, her face beaming with pride.

“It’s a bit much for a wedding,” Anlyn said.

“Nonsense,” her aunt replied. “And it’s more than just a wedding. Two empires celebrate this day. Think of it as a galactic union.”

Anlyn smiled and nodded. She loved the analogy. She turned, and the trio of women set down the adorned walkway, heading counterclockwise around Drenard and toward the Pinnacle.

As they entered the path of reflection, the three women had to fall into a single file, the blooming bushes and bursting flowers pressing in on either side. The walk was measured out to take four hundred and eighty steps, and they were to be walked in silence. It was a time for meditation and for dwelling on the upcoming promises to be made.

Anlyn lost herself in the path of flowers, her bare feet trampling the thick petals sprinkled over the stone walk. She reveled in the garden’s lush elegance, the feeling of the Horis’ reflected light warming her skin. She closed her eyes for a few steps and felt as if floating in a dream-like state of perfect contentment.

When she opened them, she noticed for the first time the crowds of women lining the path ahead of her beyond the four-eighty mark. So many! A dozen deep, they crowded the bushes to either side, pressing together and clutching bouquets or holding aloft video recorders. Anlyn felt her cheeks tighten, her lips quiver. The silence of the reflection walk became unbearable, the looming crowd positively vibrating with stifled energy. When Anlyn reached the end of the sprinkled petals and walked her last step of silence, the crowd of women erupted, cheering and waving and throwing flowers and paper-thin Wadi shells painted all sorts of bright colors.

Anlyn felt a stream of tears course down her face. She was awed at the sight of so many eyes directed her way and twinkling with their shared joy. The roar from their throats rang in her ears and lifted her up, making her feel light enough to soar up to the Horis. She wanted to take them all with her, wanted to run to each of the women, throw her arms around them, and celebrate together.

The Drenardian women kept up their cheers all the way to the grand steps leading up to the balcony. Wave after wave of renewed jubilation soared all around the Pinnacle, sustaining itself on the infectious quality of an excited crowd as confetti, petals, eggshells, and birds vied for airborne supremacy.

At the steps, a contingent of the royal guard stood at arms, saluting her. Anlyn scanned their faces, seeing a few she recognized, including the young captain that so briefly had barred her and Edison from the Circle all those sleeps ago. She gave him the barest of nods, and he smiled, exuding obvious relief at the kind acknowledgment.