Chapter 9: Before Black Glass
Across the distance
Your soft voice lights the darkness
And peace befalls me
Broadly Breathing
The journey down from the Aerie was substantially easier thanks to our landaax visitors. While we'd come up on the mornward side of the mountains, they'd come from the marward, which we discovered was almost entirely a moderate slope rather than a challenging rock face. There were certainly still troubles with rocky paths or switchbacks or fallen trees, but we managed the descent in only three suns.
Or we managed the first part of it in three suns. What I hadn't known when we began our journey was that the marward path ended at a great plateau that went on for miles before the path turned eveward and continued its descent at the last.
So rather than reaching the vast plains of the marward region in a few suns, it took us almost a moon. A moon, when it only took ten suns to climb the phobward face's near vertical, was unacceptable. At that rate, we'd barely make it to the first city on our route before we ran out of food and patience.
Micah made their opinion clear each sun that we continued walking on the hard ground and each evening that we set camp without a soft thing to lay on – excluding our bedrolls of course. All that to say nothing of their complaint that at least the Aerie proper was just about too high for weather, but our journey down was snow upon snow upon snow with a little hail every few suns to break up the monotony.
I largely had to agree. Perhaps leaving the Aerie was a mistake. But I wasn't about to just stay there and accept the fate being pushed upon me.
And on that note, I had to find a way to ignore my constant reminders of that fate. The dreams had stopped coming. The warhammer no longer begged me to carry it – probably thanks to Micah, but that was irrelevant. And the various songs in my head were gone.
But Lysandra's poems had taken over. Every sun, I awoke and read one of the poems at random. Inevitably, the poem would be relevant to the things I encountered. And as a result, I would find myself frustrated. It was like Lysandra was still trying to speak at me, but she couldn't be bothered to verify if I was listening.
For what it's worth, I absolutely wasn't. Which is why Micah and I were headed straight for the Black Lakes. With any luck, Dee would still be there. And then I could wander Lafleur in peace.
Not that I could tell Micah any of that. I wanted them gone so they'd be safe. Having them around wasn't so bad, but well, you know.
The night we finally arrived on that soft cool earth at the foot of the mountains, Micah seemed distracted by something. I thought, at first, that it might be the warhammer was too heavy, but they weren't any slower than I was accustomed to. Then I was certain Micah was having visions like my dreams, but they responded well enough when I spoke to them.
"So Micah," I said as we set up camp right at the foot of the mountains, "something on your mind?"
Their full and complete answer was "Hmm?"
"I just noticed, this whole sun you've been quieter than normal," I said as casually as I could. "So it had me thinking, perhaps, maybe, something might be off."
Micah set down the tool they had been using to drive a post into the ground. "What if Dee is dead, Nyx?"
"Uh, well," I began, flailing for anything useful.
"I can be fairly certain, you know," they said softly, "that my daughter died due to whatever it is the queen keeps taking people for. But Dee? She left. And that's different. I can have hope. I've held onto that hope for almost six years now."
The thought wasn't unfounded. But I was stunned. How does one respond to the possibility of death? Loss in general is easier. Just point out how messed up the world is. But uncertainty? Terrible.
"You're so much like her," Micah continued. "I know I've said that. But the last thirty or so suns, it's become ever more clear to me, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. You and Dee are like mirror images of each other."
"How so?" Keep them talking, and I could maybe find a way to give them peace.
"Ignoring the brightness of your eyes compared to hers, there's also your stalwart insistence that you belong only to yourself." They smiled at some far off thought. "Dee, meanwhile, threw herself into being mine. Then being our daughter's. And then something worse: belonging to the loss and emptiness.
"You know there are people in the world who choose to be servants to their lovers? People who allow themselves to be subsumed within the person they marry, erasing everything of their lives before." I shook my head. The thought sounded terrifying. "Of course not. You're so fiercely independent that you couldn't imagine relying on anyone for anything. Not food, not comfort, not satisfaction. And certainly not like that.
"Dee was one of those people in a lot of ways. Obsessed with who she was when she was with me." They didn't smile then. Instead, they shuddered. "The more I exist with you – alongside you, I suppose – the more that terrifies me. And honestly, it might be easier if Dee were dead. Because what if she's found someone or something or somewhere that owns her more than I do? Better than I do?" They met my gaze at last. "And so I have to wonder. What if she's dead? What then?"
I gave the moment as much silence as I could stomach before I said the first thing that came to me. "Dee was your light, Micah. And if she's gone, for good, then you will find a way to let yourself accept that. But without knowing much about her as a person, I still think that she's okay. And I'm guessing she had an incredible reason to leave you behind. Almost certainly, she misses you and wishes she could come home."
Never mind that I was certain Dee couldn't come home, especially if I was right about her. Micah would have to become much more than themself if they were ever to see their wife again. Dee was already on her own path. She couldn't leave it any more than I could leave mine.
Beneath Brokenness
It's not quite appropriate to call the marward plains "plains", not really. They sport a wide desert, probably from the mountains that stand at their mornward reaches. There's also a vast expanse of rolling hills. But most importantly, at the deepest reaches, at the heart of the region, lie the Black Lakes.
Of course, we won't get there for quite some time yet.
Long before the Black Lakes, there is a city, or the remnants of one. When the Liatris queendom took hold, everything changed. The goddesses were erased, one by one. Lafleur was shattered into disparate and eventually distrustful social groups. And the once thriving city at the heart of the marward plains was all but levelled.
People have rebuilt it a hundred times since then. And the desert landaax have stood to defend it fifty odd times. But every time the city recovers, it's destroyed yet again. A year, maybe two, will pass, and the queen's guard will arrive. And then it's gone.
Some say that the people keep returning because there's a goddess there who brings them peace and joy. But that's utterly ridiculous. The goddesses are dead, and the Shadow killed them.
Amber Winds always struck me as an odd name for a city. Until, of course, we stumbled upon it in the middle of a raging sandstorm. Well, less 'stumbled upon' and more 'nearly tripped over'. And specifically, nearly tripped over the rocks surrounding someone's 'sand garden'. Or rather, Micah nearly tripped. I fell face first into the hot grit.
I still hadn't mastered their neat little trick of using cold-flame to adjust the way I moved.
And Micah? Their laugh was so shrill, so unrestrained, so entirely unsettling, that the owner of the house braved the cutting winds to drag us into the relative safety of four solid walls.
"Biggest blow of the season so far, and colour me surprised to find two city girls – phobward kin if I'm not mistaken – wandering about like it's the harvest," the man spoke with a mixture of irritation and odd fondness.
"Not a girl," Micah corrected firmly. They straightened their back and clenched their jaw, drawing sharp breaths between their teeth.
I thought the mistake odd, but took a moment to consider. Micah was no match for me in size. Though they more than made up for it in strength and skill. Were they curvy? Sure. But if curves made a woman, then my own father had things to speak for. Micah's kinked flame-coloured hair was tied back thanks to the wind. But they were still Micah.
The homeowner looked Micah up and down. "Apologies. With the figure you cut, plus the hair. I was mistaken, friend." He quickly recovered and returned to his point. "Two city folks shouldn't be wandering about in a blow like this, but I'm sure it came up from less than nothing, so I'll not hold you to it."
Micah was still stiff from the initial greeting, so I offered peace. "We appreciate your kindness, friend," I said. "My name is Nyxara, daughter of Greywatch Spire. This is Micah, child of Ivory. As you guessed, we are from the phobward region, so I'd understand if you threw us out of doors and back into the blow."
"Here in the Amber Sands, there are no regions or rules, just people," the man smiled. "You two look tired. The last woman who came through left us with some potent tea that gives the sweetest of dreams. I can brew some for you, and you can sleep off the sun while the blow passes. Sound fine?"
"That would be fine, yes," Micah replied for us both.
As the man set about the task of preparing tea, Micah dragged me to a far corner pulled us both to the floor. Sat next to each other a little too close, I could hear their breathing was still too stiff.
"You okay there?" I squeezed their hand, and we met each other's eyes. "If he wanted to hurt either of us, we'd still be outside. He made a mistake, as people do. But we can leave if you need."
"No. But thank you." Their shoulders finally settled. "I can't shake the feel that something is off. Why is this house here?"
I shrugged. Their guess was as good as mine.
We sat in silence, as was our norm, for a while before I noticed a barely physical twitch in Micah's nose. I took a deep breath to hopefully sort what they were smelling and got nothing but salt and dry earth. After another second, they mirrored my action.
"Dee," they whispered. "She's been here."
My brows raised, then one cocked higher than the other. "Are you sure?"
"Sir," Micah called across the room as they moved to standing. "Can you tell me about the woman who passed through here?"
He turned about and eyed Micah suspiciously. No words, just looks.
"Terribly sorry," Micah backtracked somewhat. "I'm looking for my wife," the man tilted his head as he narrowed his eyes, "and I think she may have been here. Maybe not in your house, but perhaps you've spoken to her. Dark skin, black hair, black eyes, and a little too much charisma for someone so seemingly quiet."
He continued his silence, and Micah moved closer.
"May I see the tea this woman gave you?" If I could hear the desperation in Micah's voice, I was certain the man could. "It's just, the tea you're making. It smells like Dee."
"Is Dee your wife's name, or the name you city folks use for this tea?" He seemed to be relaxing some.
"My wife. She always smelled the same. Like dreambringer. That's what she always called her favourite flower. A black flower on a black stick with black leaves. Couldn't get the smell of it off her."
The man took out three earthenware cups and moved to a table near where he had been preparing things. "Well, I suppose you should settle in, and we can have a chat about the Lady of the Shroud."
"As you might've guessed," the man said while we took our seats, "I've met her, and she was a kindly sort. At least, she was kindly to me and mine. She brought food and supplies from somewhere deep marward of here, and she distributed them about to those around us.
"We were in the fifth or so rebuilding of my life when she turned up the first time. The queen had shown up, again, with her guards and her soldiers and her daughter. Each house was turned over a dozen times by a dozen guards and soldiers. Every woman was brought to the front, and the queen took a deep look at each.
"The Lady appeared to step from the shadows, an oil slick of fluid humanity. If she hadn't stood between us and the queen, I'd've thought her a devil of some kind, but she protected us. Something about her must have terrified the queen, because that tyrant turned tail and took to the desert.
"And then she was gone." He paused and took a deep draught of his tea. Although it was still steaming, he seemed not to notice the heat of it. "The queen came back a few years later. But her daughter was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she had with her a Shadow. Darkness and terror in the shape of a person.
"There was no searching. There were no inspections. They burned down the town and left. And we were here, nothing for us but to rebuild." A deep shudder passed over him. "Half the town died in that fire, and all that was left was rings, bracelets, and buttons. The Lady didn't show up until we'd paid our respect to the lost.
"She was so much the devilish beast that folks mistook her for the Shadow the queen had brought." A joyless laugh escaped him. "Despite that, she just set to work. Building. She was so efficient, we had half the town rebuilt before sun's end. The supplies she brought were indispensable. And then she vanished again.
"Most folks thought her an apparition. Especially the younger ones. She didn't come back for an age. And then, there she was. Darkness and peace, but as a woman. She seemed pleased the town was still okay.
"'It's been a long time, friends,' she said to us. 'But we are returning.' Not a one of us understood what she meant." He stood and moved to a cabinet, where he retrieved a small box. "She said her sister told her another would be passing through. Someone who would understand. Bright eyes and earthen skin. So she left this with me." He handed the box to Micah. "Sorry if I insulted you before, friend, but when I see those white eyes of yours ... they're less bright and more broken. But you must be her. There's no explaining it."
"Darkness and peace?" Micah was incredulous. When the man nodded, they continued. "She was never like that before. More passion and fury. Whispers and woe. Dee must have grown up a lot since she left." They turned the box over a few times. Black wood. No hinges or clear seams. A fiery obsidian was set into one side of it. Micah looked back to the man. "When was that, if you don't mind me asking."
"Round about five years. Maybe four."
They didn't open the box. Instead, they set it down and stood up. My jaw hung slack as Micah closed the space between themself and the man and pulled him into a deep hug. He, meanwhile, helplessly patted Micah on the back and looked wide-eyed toward me.
"I'm not like your Lady, sir," Micah said, finally releasing him. "But my friend is, if she'll ever let herself do so."
He jumped back from the table, staring as if he'd not looked at me until that moment. "Apologies, my Lady," he said, throwing himself to the floor in some kind of odd bow.
"Please, don't do that. I'm just a woman from Greywatch. Just like your Lady is just a woman from," I paused to consider it, "well, from somewhere. I didn't do anything to deserve your —" I rushed over and pulled him from the floor in a single motion, "— I don't deserve praise or supplication. Just call me Nyxara, and that's enough."
"Right, sorry," he said, his voice shaking. "Just, for a moment, you looked like her in a way. Not a copy, but a sister. Like the other side of a coin. It was terrifying, if I'm honest."
"So long as you don't let it happen again, I'll accept the apology. Well, that, and so long as you let us stay here until the sandstorm passes."
"Wouldn't have let you leave my house in that if you'd told me you were the goddess herself." His gentle smile betrayed a worry that wounded me, but he moved back to the table nonetheless. "Even if it weren't deadly out there, it'd be reckless to send a city girl and her – person? – into a blow. You'd get lost and likely eaten by the desert beasts."
"Friend is sufficient, sir," Micah laughed. "And thank you."