Ann waited indignantly at the entrance to the High Court. It was the highest area on the Mound other than the Four Homes; more importantly, it was overseen by the Four Memories. Ann had only ever met one of them, the Memory of Light, when she was accepted as a Valkyrie.
The Memory of Light was the Memory who sponsored warrior Valkyries. As a child, Ann had expected the warriors’ sponsor to be the Memory of Blood, but no. Warriors were sponsored by the Memory of Light. Ann didn’t know or care anymore who the Memory of Blood sponsored; it was probably weaklings like the Vala she’d left behind on Earth.
The Mistress of Memory had brought her here; why did she have to wait while the Mistress spoke to the four Memories? It had to be to tell her tale, so why wasn’t she in there? She was the one who saw everything happen!
She just knew the Mistress was taking her glory for reporting the bad situation on Earth, maybe even reporting how terrible the Vala they’d saddled her with was. Ann wanted to be in there with her, but she couldn’t disobey the Mistress.
Ann bounced from one foot to the other as she waited. She hated having to wait. It wasn’t fast; she probably waited a full fifteen or twenty minutes before the door opened.
The Mistress of Memory stood there. She stopped short when she saw how close Ann was to the doorway. “Impatient, are you? I shouldn’t be surprised. Head on in; the Memory of Light wishes to speak to you.”
Perfect! The Memory of Light probably wanted to hear everything from Ann’s lips!
Ann skipped inside the High Court through the door the Mistress of Memory held open for her. She’d never been in this Court before, and it didn’t look like what she expected.
The other Court she’d been in, the Court of Light, had a large open area in the center and seating along the side, with a throne at the far end of the Court. There was also an open area between the Throne of Light and the seats; that was where those sponsored by Light, including her Valkyries, would stand while they watched and waited on the Memory of Light’s judgements. There was a door at the rear where the Memory of Light could enter, but almost everyone else used the Court’s Door. Ann had never been allowed past the Door of Memory.
The High Court had four thrones at the far end, but that was the only way it matched her expectations. There were no seats at all and the entire room was a set of stairs that led up to the four thrones. There was no one waiting on the sides or watching; it was only Ann and the single occupant of a throne that were in the High Court. Even the Door of Memory was different; there were four of them, and they were each inset with one of the Jewels of Memory, like the thrones!
The only one of the four thrones that was filled was the Throne of Light. Why was she here if only the Memory of Light wanted to talk to her? Wasn’t this for all four Memories?
The thought repeated in Ann’s head as she climbed the stairs. She was halfway to the throne when she realized the answer was obvious from the differences between the two Courts: there were always other people in the Court of Light while there was no one else here. The Memory of Light must want to hear her story in private because of how important it was!
The realization that she was reporting to the Memory of Light alone because she had really important information was enough to soften the effort of climbing the stairs. They were difficult and seemed to become tougher and tougher as she got closer to the throne, like everything was getting heavier.
Twenty steps later, she knew she wasn’t imagining it. The steps really were getting tougher. They seemed taller than at the beginning and she seemed far weaker. She was having to struggle to get up each step. Ann brushed the sweat out of her eyes and kept going. She couldn’t stop until she got there.
Another dozen steps later, it was almost too much effort to stand. Ann didn’t stop; she kept putting one foot in front of the next. When she took her next step forward, her right foot slammed into the step and she toppled, landing face-down on the stairs when she was too slow to catch herself. It hurt.
Ann tried to stand, but her legs didn’t want to straighten. Well, if she couldn’t stand, she’d crawl.
Crawling was easier, probably because she could support her weight on her hands as well as her knees. It also helped to have more support as she moved each hand or knee up a step. Ann made it another dozen steps that way before her arms felt as weak as her legs.
It still seemed like forever to reach the thrones.
Ann struggled over a step, then another and another. She’d completely lost count when her leg just didn’t want to lift to get up the stair. She had to flop forward to draw her leg up to get it up the stair, but then she couldn’t seem to push herself up to even a crawling position.
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“So that’s it?” The Memory of Light’s voice sounded amused. “At least you kept trying. A warrior should fight for every inch she can reach. Very well; I will find a new place for you. Now, tell me why you abandoned the world that was under your charge.”
“Abandoned?” Ann heard the whine in her voice and wanted to scream. This was unfair! She’d done everything right and this was what she got, punished then accused of abandonment? “I didn’t abandon anything! The local authorities found us and somehow managed to kick us offworld. I figured we’d just take another portal back but Earth wasn’t available when we tried.”
The Memory of Light sighed. “Where are your guards?”
“My guards? They’ll get here in a couple weeks.” Ann was confused. Why did the Memory of Light care about the guards? They weren’t important; there were always more guards.
“How many do you have left?” The Memory of Light clearly cared about them for some reason. Why wasn’t she asking more about the situation on Earth?
“Uh, eight? No, wait, six. I think.” Ann tried to run through the numbers and count her guards. Six sounded right, didn’t it?
The Memory of Light sighed again. “Very well. When you can walk again, you can leave. You shall present yourself to me at the Court of Light once your guards have arrived and been re-equipped. Until then, you are to report to the Mistress of Novices for basic combat evaluation.”
That was unfair! She’d already passed her combat evaluations!
Before Ann could object, the Memory of Light turned, climbed the rest of the stairs, and disappeared behind the thrones. Ann assumed she’d left through her Door of Memory, but she couldn’t see that far from where she lay.
It was a while before Ann managed to move.
----------------------------------------
Two weeks could seem like a long time. It could also seem like no time at all.
The next two weeks passed like two days. Between hurriedly finishing enough of the terraforming project to leave, completing the last finishing touches on his new undead detection rune, spending time with Rissa, and learning some of the basics of enchanting from the materials shop owner, Serenity was incredibly busy.
That didn’t stop Blaze from standing outside Serenity’s new workshop and watching as he put the rune together. It also didn’t stop him from asking questions, though he didn’t start with a question. “This is the first time I’ve seen you actually work with metal.”
“I’ve worked with it before,” Serenity admitted. “It’s been a while, though, and I’ve only used it for runes. Which is what I’m using it for here.”
Blaze nodded and didn’t say anything.
Serenity heard a question anyway. “You’re going to ask me why I didn’t realize that was enchanting, crafting, aren’t you?”
“Was I?” Blaze shrugged. “I think that’s you asking yourself. It’s a fair question; do you have an answer?”
It was a fair question from Blaze. It just wasn’t one Serenity could answer without revealing secrets that he’d kept, even from his friend. It all came down to how much he trusted Blaze. He no longer thought Blaze might turn on him if he learned the truth; Blaze honestly cared about people and Serenity was confident he believed in redemption as well. Truthfully, it was really a question of how much he was willing to reveal. Was he willing to say that much?
Did he really want to hide so badly that he wouldn’t talk to a friend?
When he put it that way, the answer was obvious. “I haven’t told you much about my past, but it’s a lot longer than I’ve mentioned. A lot longer than it should be.”
“I knew there was something,” Blaze admitted. “You know too much for your age about too many things, even with the kind of teacher you’ve said you have.”
Serenity looked down, slightly ashamed. Blaze clearly believed the story he’d told about the Final Reaper being his mentor. He’d invented that to sort of explain things to Raz and Katya back on Tzintkra. Mostly Katya. He should have said something long since.
“You don’t have to say anything if you aren’t comfortable,” Blaze assured Serenity. “It’s your past, not mine; there are things I don’t talk about either.”
“No, that’s not it,” Serenity denied. “I should have said something a long time ago, not let you believe something that’s only true from a certain angle. I mean, it’s true I learned a lot from the Final Reaper in a way, but that’s because the Final Reaper was me.”
Serenity couldn’t believe he’d managed to just say it. He’d more than half expected it to stick in his throat. “Me from the future, at least. The Final Reaper … I did something unforgivable. Something the Voice let me come back to fix. So that’s why I said I learned from him; he never existed but I know much of what he did. I will never let that happen. Never.”
Blaze didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stood there. It made Serenity nervous; how upset was he?
“That makes more sense than I expected. I won’t ask what the Final Reaper did. I assume Rissa has told you that it wasn’t you that did whatever it was?” Blaze sounded thoughtful rather than upset.
“Yes, but it was me. A me that I could still … that I could have become.” Serenity wasn’t sure why he was emphasizing the bad possibilities. He really shouldn't be, but they were often a little present in the back of his head even now.
Blaze nodded. “We all have the potential to do things we don’t like, that we don’t want to be true. So we do what we can to move forward and not become the people we don’t want to be. Remember what I am, Serenity. I won’t judge you for what you could be; I will only judge you for who you are. You’re a good man who does the best he can for everyone around him, even those you probably shouldn’t. Even people like me. Don’t blame yourself for being someone you aren’t.”