Fernan II: The Culpable
“How do you feel?” Fernan asked. “Any different?”
Gézarde, the Flame Under the Mountain, Father of Geckos, and now Arbiter of Light, didn’t look wildly different, with the same enlarged, winged appearance that had once greeted Fernan deep within his abode, though perhaps regular eyes would see it differently.
His hue had changed, though, or perhaps it was in the process of changing. The harsh green that had burned so many villagers had softened, redder and more orange, perhaps as a result of the new role he was filling.
“I remain myself, and Mara assures me that all my children remain unaffected.” Gézarde’s eyes stood out more, too, a distinctly blinding white on either side of his head where once the green aura had obscured such details.
“That’s good. It’s easy to lose yourself when you’re suddenly thrust up the ladder like this. I appreciate you being willing to do it.”
The sun’s aura darkened, though his posture did not shift. “My will had very little to do with this. You and the girl conspired against Flammare without my knowledge and ensured my victory. Even Mara did not feel the need to inform me. And before that, it was she and her sisters that fought the Queen of Winter in my name, and proved my viability before the spirits.”
“Florette was involved in that too, actually.”
“As were you, I am told. But you two humans remain, while five of my children are dead. Teo and Yevela sought out Glaciel in her domain and never returned. Merin, Tova, and Yadid were pursued through your human streets by her children and hunted no differently from the parties organized by your alderman, Jerome.” Twin blasts of red and green fire erupted from the spirit’s eyes. “They died because they followed their father to this wretched human den with its wretched human conflicts they ought to have had no part in.”
“They did,” Fernan confessed, bowing his head. “You have my deepest apologies for ever involving your children in this matter.” He took a deep breath, readying himself for a longer apology, but he was interrupted by a fierce burst of fire from Mara’s mouth.
“Don’t be stupid, father! It was the ice people who attacked us, and we sent them fleeing cold across the water. Teo and Yevela went with me because they wanted to fight! They understood what they were getting into.”
“Did they? Or were they eager to follow their eldest and brightest sister wherever she led them?”
Mara exhaled a trail of smoke, but she didn’t respond.
“Nor am I exempt from responsibility. I granted my leave, which I knew would be taken as encouragement. Culpability for their deaths rests with me as much as either of you. And you are merely children.”
I’ll be eighteen in a week, was Fernan’s first thought, grossly ill-fitting to the situation. Instead, he said, “We would never have won without them. Glaciel could have disrupted the whole Convocation and kept the world in darkness. Even if she failed, Flammare would be the sun right now, slaughtering his way through thousands of innocents.”
“Innocents.” The crater rumbled with the word. “Are my children not innocent? Must they die to save the lives of distant humans whose kin attacked them?”
“Of course not… um…” Why didn’t I think about that more before we even started all of this? Mara said they were willing to help and I just accepted it. Every last body floating dead in the water can trace their fate back to me.
“Yes,” Mara said, standing firm at his side. “If we had buried our heads in our dens and left the humans to their fate, the entire world might stand in darkness. We would all be cold in the earth.”
Fernan placed his hand on the back of her neck, staring into the sun. Thank you, Mara. “I know that no life has a price that can be measured. Counting them is a path to ruin. But Flammare wanted to exterminate every last one of Glaciel’s children. An entire nation drawn from her blood, most of them with no involvement in her arrogant attacks. Imagine a spirit trying to wipe out all of your children, every last gecko. I’m sure that’s what Jerome wanted. Teo and Yevela died for that. They shouldn’t have. But they did, and they helped keep thousands of other children safe.”
“Human children.”
“Spirit-touched, just like Mara and me, threatened because of the actions of their forebears that they had no part in.”
“People!” Mara insisted. “Humans aren’t so different from us, really. They get hungry, they get cold, they huddle together to feel safe. They fear, and they look to their spirits to protect them. That’s what we did, Father.” She lifted her head to the limited extent she could, facing her father directly. “And we did it willingly. To defend ourselves, and our siblings, and you, and, yes, to protect the humans! They’re so interesting! One of them showed me how to make glass from the sand on the beach, and now Abel is making these really shiny bauble things that the humans wear, and it looks just like our flame, and they’re helping take our ice away on their ships and teaching their language, and—”
“And now you’re in a better position to protect them than you ever were before.” Getting a bit off-topic, Mara. The ice trade situation didn’t sit well with him either, since the little trinkets and tools the geckos were getting didn’t really seem like a fair exchange for all of the work that they were doing. That was one thing in the darkness when no one anywhere had a need for imported ice, but it was worth addressing now.
Probably without talking to Gézarde though.
“Glaciel won’t threaten us again, and any other spirit would think twice before going after the sun!”
“Any humans too, for that matter. They saw that your children helped win them the day; they fought alongside them. Our bad blood is buried deeper than ever, even with a lot of the old people.”
“And there’s so much more to see! So much more to learn! It’s amazing.”
“I quite agree,” Lamante said as she swept into view, wearing the same long-haired shape she’d taken at the Convocation. “I’ve always found them endlessly fascinating. So secure in their delusions, every thought at odds with one another. Deceit comes to them so readily that, before long, their very existences are contradictions. And from such a perspective springs ideas that spirits could never come to ourselves. I do not envy such a life, nor am I capable of such lies and killings as they perform so routinely, but I would never leave unacknowledged how much they have to offer us.”
Fernan blinked, surprised he’d missed her entering the crater. “You never kill anyone? You steal people’s faces to worm your way into their trust.”
“And you use those faces to enact murderous conspiracies.” She smiled, briefly looking much younger and more innocent than any immortal spirit ought to. Unsettling. “In my entire existence as a spirit, not once have I taken a life. I never will. It’s simply not in my nature.”
And yet somehow that isn’t comforting. “Florette said she returned the mask to you without any issues?”
“Indeed. I made myself available for her to return it upon seeing her success.” She folded her arms. “She’s quite grown on me, now that I see what she is capable of. It appears that the Fallen can choose their objects of interest better than I gave them credit for.”
Fernan gulped. Maybe it’s for the better that Florette’s getting out of town soon. “I see.”
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“And you, boy? I had thought to hear from you sooner, now that you’ve tasted the joyous flesh of another, truly worn a person’s skin as your own, and laid claim to their very essence. It’s exquisite, is it not?”
I wanted to rip my face off every second of it. “I’m grateful you were willing to help us.”
She laughed. “I would not object to you owing me a boon, if the need ever arises for you to borrow from my collection again.”
I’d rather jump from the top of this mountain. “Thank you.”
Lamante nodded, then turned towards Gézarde. “Your High Priest is practiced in his words, diplomatic. Nothing is stopping you from learning to do the same. It is not only humans who are capable of misdirecting with truth, and it is all the more powerful coming from those such as us.” What is she talking about?
“It does not suit me,” Gézarde rumbled.
“You have plenty of time to see the value in it and learn, so I will leave it alone. But, speak however you might wish, you ought to go. You are seen as culpable for Flammare’s death. Some spirits even suspect you had a hand in Soleil’s, so meteoric was your rise. You need loyal spirits, and your enemies driven from power.”
“Hi! I don’t think we’ve really met properly. My name is Mara! I was the one blasting that fire up on the hill to lure Flammare to his death, and I helped collapse Glaciel’s castle in the White Night.”
“And you have a healthy appreciation for human works. Hello, Mara. I was just speaking with you father, so if you would allow me—”
“What are you talking about? Where are you saying Gézarde should go?”
“Torpierre. Flammare is dead, after all, and spirits will be convening to choose his replacement. Many gathered there already, expecting the manner of Flammare’s retirement from the role to be rather different. Soon they shall begin their Convocation, and if we stand idly by, it shall be a coronation for Tauroneo. Spirits of rock and stone have sought the hearth for centuries. But things have changed since the likes of Epéus and Carrane set out. Flammare was to elevate him in exchange for his support”—she laughed, as if at a private joke—“and now their deal lies in ruin along with Flammare.”
“Which one is Tauroneo?” Mara asked, sparing Fernan the need to do it.
“The Bull of the West. Even buried in rock to his waist, he still towers above most humans.”
Oh, that one. He’d been the first of the Flammare contingent to switch over to Gézarde’s side. I guess now I know why; he wants to keep what he was promised. “If he was Flammare’s choice, I can’t imagine it would be good to give him any more power.”
“Precisely,” Lamante agreed. “Therefore, Gézarde ought to attend the Convocation with his supporters and push for another candidate. Fala, perhaps, or a lesser spirit of rock and stone whom we can be sure owes their position to us.”
I thought there was only one earth spirit? And no one, not Lord Lumière or Camille or the Duchess or even Florette talking about some story, had ever mentioned any sages with dominion over the earth. But Tauroneo was hardly hiding his existence; they must know.
“Why do the spirits of rock and stone refuse to make pacts with humans?” Fernan guessed.
“They deem it unnecessary.” Lamante shrugged. “It leaves them weak, but they have yet to be suitably challenged to adapt. That gives us an opportunity.”
“Us?” Gézarde asked, speaking up at last. “I fail to see what reason you have for any of this, face-stealer.”
“The lesser spirits. The downtrodden, the unconsidered, the misfortuned. All those who chafe against the arbitrary whims and restraints of Arbiters who have not been truly tested since before humanity’s existence. Several of them are dead now, another sealed away. Either they must adapt, or be replaced. And I do not find it likely that they will choose correctly. But their power is entrenched.”
Like Georges Rive, in that story the Condorcet guard told me. “It’s nice that spirits actually get to have a say in who fills these roles. Humans seldom have the opportunity, even for far more minor positions.”
“I might express that sentiment with a stronger word than ‘nice’, but I must agree. Our convocations are sharply limited by who is able and willing to appear at them, as well as the will of Arbiters and the fear of reprisals for crossing them after the vote, but at least the mechanism exists for us to have choice in the matter. That’s why I always make it a point to attend them, no matter how minor the spirit or far-flung their seat.” Lamante laughed. “Though this was before my time, I have been assured that it is vastly preferable to our old way of settling disputes directly, which tended to leave lasting scars on the land like the Paix Lake or the Rhan.”
“It was dreadful,” Gézarde agreed. “Not for nothing did I choose to reside under an unreachable mountain for three millenia.”
“In any case, my point remains the same,” Lamante continued. “We lesser spirits must stand together against them or they will push us back out of power. You, most of all, Gézarde. The Arbiter of Light must keep order over some of the world’s most volatile spirits. Whatever Flammare’s faults, he certainly would have been capable at that task.”
“He wanted to wipe out an entire nation of people to the last child.”
“One fault of many, and certainly reason enough to keep him from Gézarde’s position. I assure you, by my estimation, Tauroneo is just as deserving. If you and Florette wish to take care of him as well, I would not object. But keeping him from power should be sufficient, for the moment. By your leave, Gézarde, I would visit Fala and urge him to present his claim in Torpierre.”
Gézarde began to shimmer redder, his head tilted towards the sky. “This sounds sensible. But sensible-sounding words have wrought great damage upon my hive many times before. Mara, what would you have me do?”
Mara jumped up into the air a little, smoke trailing out of her mouth. “Do it, Father! Fuck him up!”
“I am unsure as to your meaning, Mara.”
“Florette taught it to me! It means you make him regret trying to go against you. It would help keep us safe from another Glaciel trying anything.”
His suspicious feelings about Lamante aside, Fernan had to agree in principle. Elevating another ‘lesser’ spirit could do almost as much good as Gézarde, and without the need to kill again. “I also think you should do it.”
“Your opinion was not requested, Sage of Villechart.” Gézarde paused. “But it is appreciated. I would not be here without you and your fellow humans.” His head turned towards Lamante. “Bring Fala here. I will speak with him myself.”
“Then we’ll leave you to it,” Fernan said, grabbing Mara and turning to go. Nice to see Gézarde finally taking the initiative to do something himself. A passive figure was leagues better than Flammare, but the real hope was a spirit who could actually do some good in the world, for humans and spirits alike.
“Thanks for backing me up,” he said to Mara, once he was reasonably sure they were out of earshot.
“I just told him the truth.”
“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
“Of course it was, Fernan. I’m their big sister, and Father never would have allowed it without me convincing him.”
“Well, I—”
“You did what was right. So did I. So did Teo and Yevela. They can’t live with it, so we’ll have to.” She continued on without turning back, so Fernan let the topic drop and kept following her.
The city was buzzing once they returned, people flitting by so fast that Fernan could barely recognize their light — rebuilding from the White Night, transporting food into the walls from the Gold Road, even constructing new cabins in the same style as the mountain villages they’d hailed from.
Strange to see a piece of home right in the middle of the city, but I suppose we brought it with us.
Mara had walked back slowly for Fernan’s benefit all the way back, but she took off quickly enough once they arrived. Florette was taking her out on a boat, apparently, to show her that there was nothing to fear.
As amusing as that sounded, and as nice as it would be to get more time in with Florette before she had to leave again for parts unknown, Fernan had an appointment to keep.
He chose a nice spot on the rocks, far enough from the fray not to be bothered, and downed his flask of nightshade.
Camille hadn’t spoken to him since before the Battle of White Night. She didn’t know anything about the situation with Flammare and Gézarde, but she could offer her insight now. As imperious as she could be, her information had been invaluable for convincing the spirits, both at the Convocation and beforehand, when taking Glaciel down.
If Lamante could not be trusted, which seemed likely, Camille Leclaire would be the one to know, complete with some three hundred year old story about her ancestors teaming up with the face stealer to kick some orphans, or something.
And, sooner or later, she’s going to learn what we did to Flammare. Better to tell her himself, to frame things as favorably as possible.
If there existed any chance to commute Florette’s exile, the girl she had helped so much in Malin, betrothed to the Fox-King himself, seemed like the best possibility, if still a distant one.
Fernan leaned back on the rocks, warm in the sunlight, and readied his hands to conjure her flaming image.
Or I might just make things worse. I’ve been doing a lot of that, lately.
But he had to try.