Chapter II. To the Dawn #2
“Still, Maryn seemed not to care for my feelings that day. She’d been nothing close to gentle, rummaging through the memories and moments that had brought us to this, tracing a path back through time; Dior’s imprisonment, the battle at Cairnhaem, our discovery of Jènoah’s ashes.
I’d felt sorrow trembling the thread between our minds then, but farther back she plunged; watching me save Gabriel’s life at San Michon, our battle with Danton on the Mère, all the way back to our childhood in Lorson and the calamity that started this all, dragging ma famille and the realm beside us down this road to hell.
“‘The death of days.’
“She’d whispered those words, withdrawing from my mind and staring with those fathomless eyes. The voices in me were in tumult, mine brimming with fervor as we spoke.
“‘The darkness spoken of in the prophecy, Mother. The blackened veil she shall part.’
“‘… Thou hast told her this? A believer, thou hast made her? ’
“‘We have, Mother. We need only for you to show her the way.’
“Maryn had gazed out the window then, the sunlight long-dimmed by the pall across the heavens. Though she appeared terribly wearied by her long sleep, her mind seemed yet undimmed. She’d stared at that sky for what seemed an age, alabaster brow marred by a crease so tiny it was barely a frown at all.
And then Maryn, Mother of Monsters, Priori of Esana and leader of the Faithful, had looked right through me.
“And she had smiled.
“She smiled now also, black eyes roaming each man and woman there gathered in that Hall of Plenty. Lightly skimming the surface of their thoughts, I could feel the fear and rage in each, softening as Maryn’s gaze fell upon them.
Though their minds told them it was a monster they looked upon, their eyes betrayed them; seeing a perfect blond beauty with her doll’s curls and delicate hands clasped before her as she stepped toward Dior.
“Only the Grail seemed unmoved by Maryn’s power. And yet her eyes still softened as that porcelain doll sank to her knees, and in front of the wondering gaze of those there gathered, kissed each of the Grail’s feet in turn.
“‘What are you doing?’ Dior whispered.
“‘Never,’ Maryn replied, eyes filled with wonder. ‘Though eternity’s road hath stretched before us since nights afore empire, never did we think to actually look upon thee. O merciful God, that we might live to see this night. O glorious Father, that we might yet do thy will upon this earth.’
“Maryn blinked, bloody tears trickling down her cheeks as she breathed.
“‘San Dior.’
“Pity washed over the Grail’s face, and she murmured, ‘Please, don’t cry.
’ And as she reached down to Maryn, that child who was not a child flung her tiny arms about Dior’s legs, embracing her so tight the girl gasped.
Joaquin and his faithful soldiers tensed, flames crackling in balled fists, and Maryn seemed to remember herself, pushing away, bloody tears now smeared on the Grail’s breeches, her own plump cheeks.
“‘Forgive us. But we have waited so very long. Suffered so very much. And to look upon thee now makes every drop of blood worth the spilling.’ Maryn reached out again, touching the tips of Dior’s fingers. ‘Thou shalt save us, child. Thou shalt save us all.’
“The Grail looked around the room, gaze lingering on ours.
All in that hall were frozen now, a stillness seeming to come over the flames themselves as Dior lowered herself to one knee so she might look Maryn in her bottomless eyes.
And she spoke then; the question that had eluded us through all our years of blood and belief.
“‘How?’
“‘From holy cup comes holy light.’
“‘I know the words, Maryn. But what do they mean? What must I do?’
“‘Thou art descendant of the Redeemer, child. The blood of God’s own son flows in thy veins. Ye must fulfill the promise he made, Dior. Claim the crown he was born to wear.’
“I stood enraptured as Maryn searched Dior’s face. I was afire at all this—the answers long denied in Wulfric’s service finally unveiled. But Dior only frowned.
“‘I don’t understand…’
“‘What know thee of those days faithless men do name the Aavsenct Heresy? ’
“‘A little.’ Dior shrugged. ‘It was a rebellion, four hundred years back. Mortal descendants of the Redeemer’s daughter raised insurrection against the Augustin Empire. Illia and her Esana backed the rebels. Voss and his Knights of the Blood backed the Emperor. And in the end, my ancestors were murdered near to a man and Illia was destroyed, most of her brood beside her. Only four of you survived.’
“‘Four.’ Maryn nodded, tears welling once more in her lashes.
‘Four of hundreds. So much knowledge. So much beauty. So many souls. All consigned to the abyss when Fabién and his fools sacked our home. Charbourg was the city where the Redeemer was murdered upon his wheel, knew ye that? The shrine where his tomb was built, and where his descendants raised their capital. All now dust and ruins.’
“Maryn’s little hands balled into fists, black gaze swimming with hatred. But fatigue overcame her, rage dimming as she swayed at the effort. Maryn closed her eyes to steady herself, and when she spoke again, calm had returned to that angel’s voice.
“‘But in one respect, thou art mistaken, holy child. Thy ancestors raised no rebellion against House Augustin. They sought only that which thy blessed forebear, the Redeemer Himself, fought so fierce to claim.’
“Maryn breathed deep, little fingers now entwined.
“‘The Redeemer was many things. Leader. Prophet. But more and most, he was a conqueror. Spreading his Father’s word at the edge of a righteous blade. He was murdered in Charbourg before his dream of unifying this realm came to fruition. House Augustin and their Church forged an empire in his name, but for their own glory. In rising against them, your ancestors did only as was their holy right. The bloodline of heaven’s king, seeking to rule the kingdoms of this earth as he did, and thus, unite heaven and earth as one. ’
“Reaching out slow, Maryn touched Dior’s hand with trembling fingertips.
“‘And so thou must, holy child.’
“Dior frowned, rising to her feet. In that moment, I was put in mind of the statues of the Almighty and his Son we had seen outside Cairnhaem—the Redeemer’s visage fierce and fearless, sword in hand, his helm encircled with a crown.
“‘No more riddles,’ Dior hissed. ‘No more fuckery, no more bullshit. Talk straightwise with me, Maryn. Before the Five, come unto one. What the hell does it mean?’
“‘The five countries of this realm. United.’
“‘With sainted blade?’
“‘The sword carried by the Redeemer in his holy war. The symbol of his power.’
“‘’ Neath virgin sun?’
“‘The Feastday of the Maid, his holy mother, when all emperors since the Fivefold Throne was forged have been crowned.’
“Dior dragged a hand through her pale mop of hair and whispered.
“‘By sacred blood or else by none…’
“‘Thy blood. The blood of God’s own son. It shall bring the light of heaven to every mother, every babe, every soul who suffers this awful darkness. Ye must end what thy holy forebear began, Dior. On the day of Maidsfeast, ye must be crowned ’pon the Fivefold Throne of Elidaen, bearing the blade thy ancestor sought to seize it with.
Finally uniting the rule of heaven and earth. Then, and only then…’
“Dior looked heavenward, toward the black pall above.
“‘This blackened veil shall be undone…’
“‘So it was prophesied. And so shall it be. Maidsfeast falls ten months from now. By the dawn of that holy day, sweet child, we must be in Augustin.’
“Dior chewed her lip, murmuring as she gazed into the fire.
“‘How did daysdeath start, Maryn? What began all this?’
“‘We know not, child. When darkness swallowed heaven, in eventide we yet slumbered. But in truth, this saga began a millennia ago. All this hath been foretold. And though know we not how it began, we know how it shall end.’
“‘Madness.’
“The scoff came from Angiss, glowering now at Maryn. But the child who was not a child turned toward him, and though that warrior of the Moonsthrone dwarfed her in stature, as her tired eyes fell upon him, that great chieftain quailed.
“‘Turn thy wolf’s ear to us now, Angiss á Barenn, and hear true. For eight hundred and seventy-six years hath we walked this earth with faithful feet. When birthed was this body, the tow’ring pines of Ma’dair Craeth were but acorns, and the mighty tribes of the Moonsthrone mere babes, trembling in the weald.
We hath seen kingdoms rise, and armies fall, and the dream that could unite heaven and earth slain upon the wheel for the sake of fear and hubris and evil true.
We hath seen the face of madness. This be not it. ’
“Maryn took in her little body with a sweep of her hand.
“‘This be belief.’
“‘Belief’s all well and good, maebh’lair,’ Phoebe replied. ‘And say fer a moment all ye claim is true. I’m nae seer, but I foresee a few troubles with yer wee prophecy.’
“Maryn blinked. ‘Aye? ’
“‘For one, there’s aready an arse sat on the Fivefold Throne of Elidaen. Alexandre de Augustin III. Direct descendant of them who extinguished Dior’s kin under charge of heresy. Fifty years he’s ruled this empire, and he’s nae goin’ to just give his seat up on yer say-so.’
“‘Truth ye speak, Fiáin dahtr. It may be the Augustins shall resist Dior with the same fervor they resisted at Charbourg. But if offered a chance to end this eternal night, perhaps the Emperor may bend to God’s will. Either way, our case must be put to him soon. Tale from sweet Celene hath we, that Fabién Voss marches ’pon Augustin’s capital.
Should he claim the Fivefold Throne before the Grail, all hope of redemption is lost.’
“‘… But the sword,’ Reyne murmured.
“‘Aye,’ Phoebe growled. ‘This sainted blade Dior must bear when she sits the Lowlander throne. Presuming it’s nae rusted to ruin by now, we’ve nae idea where it is?’
“‘We do.’
“Maryn met each stare, her own dark as midnight.
“‘The Esana have long prepared for this blessed day. Discovered was the Redeemer’s Blade, centuries back. From of the wreckage of the Charbourg was it borne by Faithful hands, spirited to a place of sanctuary. And in that cradle, it abides still.’
“‘Where?’ Dior demanded.
“‘Augustin.’ Neath the great capital’s skin, in a vault much like the one we slumbered in, doth the last of the four Faithful abide in eventide.’
“‘Oleander the Wise,’ we whispered.
“‘Aye,’ Maryn nodded. ‘The blade’s keeping hath been Oleander’s sacred charge since Illia’s fall.
To his side must we be taken, to rouse him from dreamless sleep with our blood.
And with sainted sword in hand, ’pon the Maid’s day of feast, San Michon’s Grail must ascend the throne she was born to sit. ’
“Maryn’s gaze roamed each in turn, her voice brimming with fire.
“‘And all of us shall know salvation.’
“‘I’m a whorechild,’ Dior whispered. ‘I slept in gutters. I ran with thieves. How the bleeding fuck am I supposed to claim the Fivefold Throne of Elidaen?’
“‘With me beside you.’
“Reyne squeezed Dior’s wounded hand, eyes of emerald and sapphire shining.
“‘You liberated my country. Avenged my family. No matter where you came from, or who you were born of, I see the queen in you, Dior Lachance. And I shall serve her ’til my final breath slips my lips, and my last drop of blood flees my breast.’
“The Princess sank to one knee, raising forefinger and thumb over her heart.
“‘La demoiselle du Graal.’
“Joaquin and his Unbound matched suit, kneeling and placing forefinger and thumb upon their chests.
“‘La demoiselle du Graal.’
“Phoebe looked among her kinfolk, but the heathens seemed unconvinced. Her aunt Cinna pressed her lips thin, and Angiss á Barenn glowered at Maryn, arms folded.
“‘It speaks with velvet tongue. But we came to Maergenn to avenge our stolen blood, nae to heed the words of the Dead. I’d seek counsel in the Moonsthrone afore I marched to the Lowlands, and into a war we have nae stake in.’
“‘We all have a stake here, Angiss,’ Phoebe hissed. ‘The Time of Blighted Bl—’
“‘The prophecy says the Godling will be born o’ the Moonsthrone, nae some Sūdhaemi whore.’ Angiss looked to Dior, lip curled. ‘She is nae the one, Dúnnsair.’
“Grim agreement rippled about the room, and even faithful Brynne hung her head. Phoebe looked to her aunt, golden eyes pleading. ‘Aunt Cinna…’
“‘Ye must understand, Phoebe,’ the old woman said. ‘This battle’s toll was without measure. I know ye believe in this lass. I see a fire in her too. But we cannae march to Augustin and risk all we have left without consulting w’ the All Mothers first.’
“‘That will take months,’ Phoebe hissed.
“‘Then months it shall take,’ Angiss growled. ‘I fer one shall weigh the counsel of our wisest and eldest over the word of a corpse.’
“Phoebe looked about the room, but in her kin, she saw only misgiving, mistrust. It was hard to fault their faithlessness, in truth. The death toll wrought upon the Highlanders in the Battle of Maergenn had been terrible. And they were godless heathens, after all.
“But still, one daughter of the Moonsthrone held the faith.
“‘Well, I shall keep my vow.’
“Phoebe turned to Dior, hunter’s eyes ablaze.
“‘I swore aready. By my heartsblood spilled. I am yer talon and tooth, Flower. If by my blood or boon or breath might ye be kept safe, I shall give all in yer service. And if this be the steerage of yer course, I shall stand it beside ye.’
“With those words, the fleshwitch bent her knee.
“‘La demoiselle du Graal.’
“Maryn also knelt, whispering thanks to God. With the same upon our ragged lips, I genuflected, forefinger and thumb to our breast. Though the Highlanders were unmoved, Dior’s pale blue eyes swept the rest of the folk in that room—the warriors and princesses and ancients of the blood knelt before her.
And as she looked upon them, I saw the spark of faith she’d long held in check finally burst into fire.
It is a fine gift to have others believe in you, sinner.
It is a different boon entire to believe in yourself.
But there in that room, I saw it unleashed—all the holy promise instilled in this child, now come full to bloom.
And for the first time in as long as she could recall, Celene Castia looked forward to the dawn.
“‘Aright.’
“Dior sighed, drawing Reyne up to her feet.
“‘To Augustin.’”