Chapter 17

The Balance

Sir Myles of Barony Olau pinched the bridge of his nose wearily as he consulted the translation once more; every muscle ached as he bent forward, wizen face mere inches away from the parchment as he made out the small scribble by the ample candlelight around him. In his younger days, this sort of work- the multiple translations and analysis of old texts- would have excited him as a challenging puzzle for the mind; now, he groaned softly as he caught his most recent mistake. Shaking his head, he scratched out the old Cyritac and rewrote it properly; he was fueled by anxious urgency, despite his weariness. He knew he was one of the few who could salvage any meaning from the old writings in the depths of the Corus library about Frejonak, Yama, Gaian, and the Wavewalker. When someone pushed the door open, he did not bother to look up, lest he lose his place; there was only one person who did not knock on his study door.

"Hello, Irnai," he murmured, double checking his latest line.

"They're here, finally," she told him, and Myles turned his head quickly to see the scrolls in the seer's hand. She smiled as she placed them by her side. "The Voice copied them himself, from the walls of Persopolis." Finally. The Bahzir of the desert had recorded their history for far longer than others, and in far more permanent ways; the palace itself was a manuscript of their ancestors. Even more important, the language was one Sir Myles understood perfectly; there would be no cross-translations this time. He smiled grimly as he unrolled the first and began to read it.

"And how is the old king?" he queried, feeling odd; he had never thought he live to say that about Jon's father, let alone Jonathon of Conte himself. Irnai was silent for a long moment, and Myles raised an eyebrow before he continued to read. There was little he had not already learned; he reached for the second scroll.

"They say he is training the next Voice," she finally said, voice less certain than usual.

"Says who?" Myles made a note on the parchment.

"Them." The old knight chuckled to himself.

"And who is them, Irnai?" he asked.

"The people." Myles laughed again; mortals were not her usual news sources.

"I thought you were above gossip, dear girl. What do the gods say?"

"I cannot predict the Voice's death," she said mildly. "Only he can see that." Myles's stomach dropped. Jon? Dying? For a moment, he could see King Roald's father as a young page, sitting in his classroom, piercing blue eyes watching his instructor keenly. Myles knew then that this boy would be an extraordinary ruler… but he had not known just how right he had been. And now-

"A change in leadership of the Bahzir does not mean the death of the old- and training of the Voice can take years," Myles said, a touch of sternness in his voice. Irnai bowed her head.

"This is true," she agreed quietly. "But time marches on, Myles." The old man's eyes closed.

"That is does," he says quietly. Then he cleared his throat. "Sometimes I fear I will not complete these-" He swept his hand over the expanse before him. "-before the Black God calls me, Irnai. I fear that I will leave you all blind and ignorant of what is to happen." She did not reply to his statement; instead, she turned, gazing around.

"To know the future, the past must be brought to light." Irnai wandered along the stacks of books, her fingers drifting over their covers. "Much has already been said. Fire, earth, air, and water… they must stop Uuasoe, the Queen who betrayed the Old Ones and bound them in Chaos, the one who scattered the brethren-"

"Who?" Myles prompted, looking sharply up at the ethereal woman, who smiled dreamily.

"The children of the Old Ones. They shall destroy the world." The knight froze; a chill ran through him- was this the answer to all their questions? Roger wanted to destroy this mortal world, to free Chaos and drag the heavens down into it… was this what they needed to know? Was this the vital secret they were missing?

"Who are they, Irnai?" he asked slowly, writing her last words down swiftly. The seer stared out into the distance for a moment, then shrugged.

"Opposites," she replied vaguely. "Light and dark, but neither good nor evil. They are not whole, nor do they want for anything but death. Death of themselves." The old man waited, but she did not elaborate. He let out a soft sigh, then shook his head wearily.

"Find Cadel, will you?" he requested, rubbing his temples again. As Irnai nodded gracefully and departed, Myles sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Keladry's son had always had a keen interest in history, and there ought to be someone with a sharp mind and young eyes nearby- someone young and lucid, someone who could be trusted with such grave matters, who could pass on the word, if his partners succumbed to death and unintelligible ramblings.

A smile tugged at Deryne's lips when she realized she was flying- flying along the cliffs by the sea, like she had in many dreams before. The sensation of swooping up the coast was a soothingly familiar one; she was not surprised to see Duskwing gliding by her side when she turned her head. With a loud cry, the kestrel shot ahead of her, towards a figure that waited in the distance, suspended above the ground.

The squire's heartbeat quickened; the lean, wiry form of a man held out his arm, and her bird slowed to rest upon his wrist. As she approached, she took him in slowly; he had a small stubble covering his chiseled face; when he looked at her, her breath caught- she might have as well looked into her own eyes.

"Frejonak," she whispered. Here was her patron god; the one who had sent Duskwing to her- the one who had given her her magic. His lips curled in a tiny smirk.

"Deryne of Queenscove." He watched her floating form with detached interest until she stopped before him. Then he chuckled. "Since Uuasoe was kind enough to stride out into the open, she as good as gave me leave to drop in. Loopholes in the laws that govern the universe are beautiful things." He held out a hand before Deryne could reply, the other still holding up Duskwing, who preened. "We're going on a little trip, my dear." Numbly, the girl placed her hand on his, and their surroundings blurred. Deryne blinked, and they were standing inside a ring of people. Then she realized her mistake: not people, but gods. The squire gasped, but none of them paid any mind; each stared into the ball of light in the center of the circle, their full attention taken up by the multicolored glow. "Ignore them- they don't even know we're here." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously, causing the kestrel to take flight. "The Hall of Gods, Queenscove- no mortal may ever lay eyes on it, nor walk on its sacred ground. The penalty is death, not that the penalty for morality isn't always," he added wickedly. "And, after that,the Black God sets you adrift in the Void for eternity." Deryne glared, but did not have the nerve to voice her thoughts.

Well, that makes sense, to bring me here to suffer divine wrath. She started when Frejonak snorted.

"Are you truly that thick, my darling?" he queired. "I wouldn't ever place you in such danger- there is too much invested in you." Deryne scowled. Of course he could hear her thoughts…."And everyone else's, too," the god added casually. "An upside, to all those pesky gudruna, always pleading for attention like a pack of starving orphans."

"So, why did you bring me here?" she demanded, wondering for the first time if Rikash had grounds for his violent reactions towards her mind-reading. It did not trouble her, to have Frejonak reply to her thoughts… he was a god, her patron god, after all… but it was unnerving enough for her to imagine how she would feel if her human friend could do the same…. "Just for the view?"

"It's a nice one, isn't it?" Frejonak pointed at the swirling lights in the center of the circle. "Chaos in the middle." He turned, allowing his hand to sweep across the frozen gods around them. "And its adversaries without. Seem familiar?" A jolt of understanding slammed into Deryne; as her stomach sank, she did, too- her legs gave out, and she slid to the floor slowly.

"The Black Caverns." Frejonak nodded solemnly.

"You saw the stone statues- the Old Ones' portrayal of this very scene." He gestured again. "Of course, when something is contained, it will, occasionally, break out," he added grimly. "It is only freedom, a release, that will end this conflict."

"Chaos winning, you mean," Deryne said wearily, recalling the incidents in the Caverns…. They had saved the mortal world from Uuasoe. At a cost.

"No. Not necessarily," Frejonak said quietly, staring at the still figures around them. "There seem now only two possible outcomes- Her triumph… or preservation of the current balance. But the unexpected is bound to happen. Now, powers that have not wandered these worlds since the final days of the Unnamed are lurking on the horizon- such as you," he added, a small smile on his lips.

"Why show me this?" she asked, and frowned when his reply was a shrug. "Why remind me, of-" She stopped, as events past flooded past her. Inar, who had been destined to receive the gift that Frejonak was forced to take away and give to her.

"I do not regret anything I have done." Deryne gritted her teeth; she could not speak of this aloud.

You could have saved him. Intervened, when Malvyn ripped his soul apart, and bound Roger to my friend-

"No," Frejonak replied serenely. "If there had been anything I could have done, it would have been done. I was- kept occupied," he said, bitterness entering his voice. "Until it was too late. And by then, I had to leave him- I could not risk tainting that power in any way. If he had fallen into Uusaoe's hands, we would have been lost." Deryne nodded, but did not speak. It made sense, when he said it. But it did not comfort or convince her of anything. "It was all for the best, anyway," he finished, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. She looked up at him.

"How so?" she barely managed the words.

"You were given as much of an equal in your powers as I could supply," he said simply. "He no longer had the gudruna, but he had power over them- that was why his mind block was so successful against you- they would not enter his head, if he wanted it so. He was the one person with whom you could not reply on what gifts I gave you. He helped you grow into your own."

"And now I've lost that equal," she spat out. Frejonak shrugged.

"You have the other three now," he answered simply. Deryne wanted to hit him. The god laughed softly.

"I can feel your suffering, Queenscove, but I cannot cry over every mortal- and since I do not cry over every, I do not cry for any. The gods are pitiless- it is how we survive." He sighed. "In fact, I am one of the gentlest of us- it is what the Unnamed's power has done to me." He stared off into the distance. "Now, they were divinity with compassion… they were everything, anything, all at once. They could cry and laugh and sing and scream in the same breath- reprimand and praise in the same glance." His hardened face softened slightly. Deryne's eyes fell to the floor once more. "You cannot imagine what we lost," he murmured, gaze far-off still. "Which is for the best, really- it might kill you, to understand what this world has lost." Then he blinked, and grinned. "And then where would I be? Trapped, with no mortal instrument through which to command the swiftly unfolding events." He held out an arm to her, gallantly bowing. She hesitated. "I've protected you thus far, Queenscove- don't trouble yourself about trespassing here, either- you have passage to anywhere with your power." Shaking his head with a knowing smile, he chuckled once more as she lay a hand on his muscular arm. "North winds know, you are no mere mortal." Before Deryne could challenge that, he rolled his eyes, waving a hand at her to silence any questions. "In the grand scheme of things, I mean," he said impatiently. "Not when everything is seen in perspective. It's slightly complex, but anyone who knows would agree with me. Really, believe me, I cannot elaborate any further- there are rules to this game, some even I cannot bend- you'll understand, sooner or later." He paused. "Hopefully." Their surroundings faded- then they were on the shore again. "Look over there, Queenscove." He pointed west, and she followed his eyes out across the sea, until she could see no further. "No," the god said, sounding irked. "Look further." Before she could protest that she could not possibly see beyond the horizon, he touched her forehead, and a race of images ran through her mind- gudruna, speeding towards the sunset…. Across the ocean, dipping into the waves-

There was magic, magic as old and powerful as her own- she dove through it, ignoring its sting as it tried to chase her away, to hide whatever lingered within the waves….

And the sand. And… walls. The walls of a city. Deryne froze.

"The island," she whispered, a chill of understanding bitter in her veins. A city in the ocean, hidden by magic. Frejonak chuckled.

"One island," he said, as though correcting her, but she barely listened. "Yes. The home of the Seraph- the Children of the Unnamed." He waved a hand, and a chess board materialized before them. Deryne frowned; Numair had once told them a story about the gods' games- that he and Daine had been pawns in the last battle against Chaos. Each piece had been a different person, god, or immortal in the Immortals War.

"But these are ordinary chess pieces," she said aloud; Myles had similar ones in his study back in Corus.

"Because there are many games going on, at once," Frejonak explained, tapping a side of the board, at which time the figures changed- the king was Mithros, the queen the Goddess… Frejonak and a dark haired goddess- Yama, Deryne suspected- were the bishops. Another god- one who reminded her of Han- and the Wavewalker were the rooks. She scanned the other pieces- they blurred, making it difficult to make out the features of any of the others… but of one thing she was sure.

"We aren't here," she said slowly, and Frejonak chuckled darkly.

"How shocked you would be, if you could see this clearly," he muttered in her ear. Then he sobered. "Are you certain?" Deryne frowned, but before she could open her mouth to confirm her statement, the four gods disappeared, leaving others in their place. The squire's jaw dropped, for there, as bishops and rooks, stood Rikash, Cyne, Han, and herself. Frejonak chuckled. "And here is another board-" He tapped her miniature's head gently, and suddenly she was the queen, with Cyne as her bishop- Before she could see who the others were, he tapped one of her pawns. "And another-" Now Roald stood as king, surveying the board grimly- "And another-" Then Leoraed, the heir, took his father's place at the head of the board. Frejonak kept tapping figures, making boards vanish and reform quicker than she could process; she kept her eyes on the king, barely managing to identify one before another would pop up in its place- Numair, Cadel, the Lioness- others she did not recognize….

"All right," she said loudly, holding up a hand, and the board dissipated, fading into the air. "There are a lot of games going on… why don't you just up and tell me what that means?" Her head ached. Frejonak snorted.

"Don't you think I would if I could?" he asked.

"No," she said shortly. "Gods like complications." The god laughed grimly.

"Believe me," he said in a low voice. "We all want this over, but we have no control- I can't even show you the boards properly-" He jerked a hand down to where the chess pieces had lined up before her. "The universe rides on a precarious balance, and the gods are becoming pawns," he hissed. "By the end, my brother and sisters and I will be gone- trust it, Queenscove. And we will not be the only ones of divine blood to fall." His brilliant eyes blazed, burning Deryne's vision; she flinched away, hands to her face, trying to block out the light. She was slipping, fading into unconsciousness. Frejonak's voice "Gaian and Yama cannot protect their chosen as I can you- They grow weak as your friend approach the Seraph. You must leave." When his lips touched her forehead, a jolt of white light raked across her body and gudruna along with it- soaring over mountains, the doors to the Chamber, and a Vent she had never seen before. She stiffened as his voice whispered in her ear with the snarl of the north wind. "We may never speak again, Deryne of Queenscove, but I will be there, every step you take. This I vow; so mote it be."

As Sir Myles dropped off into sleep, quill in hand, the clouds passed over the moon, sending the room into darkness. A small, sharp puff of wind snuffed out the candles around the desk, and all was still.

A tall figure robed in black stepped out from the shelves behind the old scholar. Silently, he made his way to the man's side, his hand raised-

"Stop!" Although Myles heard nothing, the robed silhouette turned his head; a light flashed before the desk, and a wave of heat raced through the room as a woman with golden skin materialized. Tossing her dark tresses, she strode forwards, fire blazing in her eyes. "We had a deal- you were not to touch him. We need him." A faint, bluish glow appeared behind the spot where the woman had dramatically entered- A beautiful, nymph-like woman solidified, her wet hair sticking to her body like seaweed. She stared silently at her two fellows with large blue eyes.

Everyone stood for a long moment like that- one hand outstretched towards the sleeping mortal they surrounded, a fierce expression daring him to go any further, the soft sounding of water droplets the only sound in the room.

"The Black God knows there is a balance," a deep voice spoke from behind all three. "Yama, we all know this." The fire goddess spun around to glower at the new speaker.

"We also know that without him-" She jerked a finger at Sir Myles just as a soft snore escaped the old man. "-all of us are lost, Gaian. There won't be any realms of the dead to take him to!" Gaian surveyed each of his siblings.

"There must be balance," he said gently. "It is not his choice to take the scholar- the balance demands it." Yama snorted, waving a hand to silence him.

"We already made a deal."

"But it was not pernament- it gave us more time, time that is up now." Yama glowered.

"So we make another deal!" She turned to the Black God. "Take another lord's son, another knight-" The hooded figure shook his head.

"There would be no balance," Gaian said darkly. "His death would hurt our cause greatly; we must choose another who would hurt our cause just as much." Dead silence filled the room when the Black God nodded. Yama's eyes glittered.

"This is your justice?" she hissed. "Your judgment has been made?" Her fists clenched. Then she whipped around. "Myles of Olau is one of the few who are completely irreplaceable," she snapped. "Leoraed of Conte has brothers-"

"No," Gaian said firmly. "Absolutely not." Yama took a step towards her brother. "He is like his grandfather-" The Wavewalker froze as Yama stalked past her to argue. "-a king of greatness will be needed in these times-"

"Then the favorite. The knight-" Gaian shook his head, face grave. The Wavewalker stepped towards Myles and closed her eyes in thought.

"It is already written that he will be the one to-" Yama snorted.

"Is he the only one who could-"

"Yes. There is not another one in this world," Gaian replied steadily, meeting her furious eyes. "He is the one." The fire in her gaze died down; Yama let out a small huff as she pursed her lips, thinking.

"Then the seer-"

"You jest, surely." She glared..

"You leave me with one last choice. The girl." Gaian's face tightened. The Wavewalker's eyes flew open, alarm obvious. Yama pressed her lips taunt as she turned to the Black God. "Kill her and leave Myles of Olau."

"That would destroy many of ours," Gaian said quietly. Yama scowled.

"But you know she is the only one who could satisfy this balance of yours." Both fire and earth turned their gazes to the Judge of mortals. Gaian bowed his head and cleared his throat.

"So mote-"

Wait! The Wavewalker rose herself to her full height, and fixed her stare on the Black God. She is young. There is another, who would do far less damage. She paused. One who has already served the world as he was destined to serve- but powerful enough to take the place over which we fight. He has but one duty left, one debt owed to the balance. The other gods froze as his face was revealed to them. He shall die in her stead, and the balance will be satiated.

"But only for another while," Gaian said slowly. The Wavewalker's eyes did not leave her robed brother, who now stepped away from the mortal he had come to take.

We only need another while- not long, my brother. She bowed her head, her neck curved gracefully to the Black God. You know of whom I speak. Allow Myles of Olau a little more time to dwell here, and summon the king to final rest. She looked up into the shadowed face of Death, eyes unwavering. So has it been seen. So has it been spoken. So mote it be.