Shylldra
Being an Initiate was all about washing bowls and cleaning hallways. Being an Acolyte was all about lighting candles and preparing rituals. Preparing, not performing. Acolytes and Initiates were expected to attend prayer, but the prayers were led by the priestesses. Shylldra felt strange watching the Initiates wiping the halls clean as she carried a stack of copper bowls from one storage room to another. Theoretically, the bowls were Acolyte's work because she was handling religious objects. Deep as her faith was in the power of Maia Shylldra thought it was probably just a stack of bowls.
She left the storage room and almost slammed into Mother Yevin.
Shylldra knew it was her duty to be kind to all of Maia's creatures which, considering she was one of the three High Mothers of Maia's entire priesthood, must include Mother Yevin. But it was difficult to think of the High Mother as anything but a miserable old bitch, hard as Shylldra tried. She wasn't sure what she'd ever done to upset the High Mother but Yevin had obviously hated her since she left the palace to join Maia's priesthood.
“You have received a summons,” Mother Yevin said. “From the palace.”
“The palace?” Shylldra said blankly.
“Yes,” Mother Yevin said. “The first came three days ago, but it was rejected. This is Maia's priesthood, Acolyte. You have duties and cannot go running back the palace and your highblood friends whenever you feel like it!”
There were so many unfair things in that sentence Shylldra didn't know where to start. It wasn't like she'd sent the summons. And she didn't have any friends in the palace anymore either. But you couldn't say that to a High Mother, so instead she asked “why have you accepted it this time?”
“This time it was brought by Lady Gylldrianna Derythos dre Imperiens,” Mother Yevin said like she was chewing lemons.
“Ah,” Shylldra said. There was no way the temple of the Mother Goddess could order a mother not see her daughter. Especially when that mother was nobility. Unfortunately, that meant there was no way for Shylldra to avoid seeing her mother either. “I'll go at once and see what she needs.”
“Do so,” Mother Yevin said acidly. Shylldra bowed and hurried to the entrance hallway, only stopping to grab her staff. Hesitation about seeing her mother after—two years? At least two years—was numbed by the horror of what might happen if she were left unattended in the temple.
Gylldrianna Derythos dre Imperiens was beautiful. Shylldra had always envied her mother's ease in her own body, theway she could slink and seduce just by walking across a room. She dripped with jewels like always, as was expected of a noblewoman, and her head was framed by a fan of feathers fixed somewhere behind her shoulder blades, their deep blue color making the pale skin and raven hair she'd passed on to her daughter stand out all the more.
“There you are,” she said when Shylldra hurried in.
“Honored Mother,” Shylldra bowed deeply. “Welcome to this sanctuary.”
“Oh stop it with all of that. It's not as if you ever spent much time honoring me.”
“All who have felt Maia's blessing are Honored.”
“Maia's blessing?” Gylldrianna snorted. “I popped you out if that's what you mean. I didn't feel all that blessed at the time. If Maia had really wanted to bless me you'd have been a son and saved everyone a lot of trouble. Oh, I can't really blame you for that, but couldn't you at least have bedded some border lord and given me a grandchild somewhere in the succession? Instead of all this holy blithering.”
Shylldra kept her smile carefully tight as her mother waved dismissively at the marble and golden temple of Maia.
“I will still give you a grandchild, Mother,” Shylldra said, even though she knew full well it was the succession and not the joy of family Gylldrianna was disappointed about. “Someday. May I ask what business brings you to the temple?” And when you will be going away?
“You do,” Gylldrianna said, pulling a scroll out of her cloth belt. With the jeweled clasp, of course. “You are summoned to the palace by Lekarik nyth Gargarand iil Tyrannosaurus the 4th. He has family business to discuss with you.”
“What family business could he possibly have with me? We haven't spoken a word to each other since we were eleven.”
“Does it matter?” Gylldrianna groaned. “The emperor has summoned you. As a citizen, you are duty bound to respond. And as a Lady this is your chance to get back to real life instead of...this.” The shrug of her shoulders somehow covered not only the temple but Shylldra's vocation, the priesthood of Maia, Maia herself, and devotion as a concept.
“If the emperor is summoning me of course I'll go.”
“Good. I have a carriage outside.”
The carriage sat in the temple courtyard, pulled by two garudomimus. Most carts in the city were pulled by thick bodied minmi or muscular zuniceratops. Occasionally someone would ride through town on the back of a tethyshadros, or a squad of soldiers on their utahraptors. But the wealthy who wanted to show off—and there was no better description of her mother—had garudos. The dinosaurs were long limbed, long necked, long tailed, and had long feathers on their arms, the tips of their tails and in crests around their heads.
Legend had it dinosaurs had feathers because Saurus was in the half of the egg Iikwii held, making all dinosaurs partly her children. She was also supposed to be beautiful and vain, and if all that was true Shylldra thought she'd probably disown the garudos pulling her mother's carriage. They were always brightly colored but these had to have been bred for the ridiculously garish plumage they sported. There was no way Maia would do that to something on purpose.
“Come along,” Gylldrianna said, and she followed her mother into the carriage. The driver cracked the reigns and they were off through the city.
“Can you tell me what's going on now?” Shylldra asked.
“Lekarik is a very weak emperor,” Gylldrianna said.
“Everyone knows that. He's young, he'll probably grow into it.”
“Maybe. But you don't understand. The Axe has rejected him.”
Shylldra blinked. She'd seen someone without Milkaamek's blood try to hold the Axe once. The result had been...violent. “How the hells is he still alive?”
“It doesn't destroy him like it would someone without the blood,” Gylldrianna said. “But it won't allow him to pick it up.”
Milkaamek's Ax was to Angelar what a crown was to lesser kingdoms. An absolute symbol of power and authority. And not just a symbol, an infusion that powerful could make the wielder a terrifying opponent. If the emperor couldn't pick it up, let alone wield it, there were astonishing political and military implications. Which did not answer one important question.
“But what does that have to do with me?”
“It means there's an opportunity here! Weakness breeds enemies. And a man with enemies needs friends. And friends can be rewarded. I've become a confidant of Lekarik's in recent weeks.”
But no new title, Shylldra thought with a sigh. Not yet, at least. And you're offering me up for whatever he's thinking to get one.
Gylldrianna had been the fourth daughter of an ancient family rich in pride but bankrupt in everything else. Caught the eye of the emperor only to be taken as not a wife, but a concubine. And not first concubine, but seventh concubine. No son, just a daughter she'd had to care for while she watched the throne go to the emperor's nephew. Now just one of a thousand palace hangers on with no title or position but dre Imperiens. “Seeded by the Emperor,” mother of one of an emperor’s horde of children, and not one which would inherit any riches or title.
That's your curse isn't it mother? You've always been ALMOST someone important...
“I'll let the emperor himself explain. We're here.”
The driver helped them down from the carriage. Someone else might have been intimidated by the towering bulk of the palace above them, but Shylldra grew up here. She even nodded to a few guards she recognized as she was led in through the massive doors, down the wide hallway to the throne room, and finally into the mazelike hallways until they reached one of the upper floor sunrooms. A guard outside gestured them in, and they were finally in the presence of Lekarik nyth Gargarand iil Tyrannosaurus the 4th.
He was beautiful. There was no other word for it. His body was lean but fit, and had obviously been oiled by someone who'd taken careful care to evenly coat every muscle. His hair was long and full of jeweled ornaments which sparkled as he lounged in the heavily cushioned stone chair he had claimed for himself. Shylldra just remembered him as the annoying boy who got tree sap in her hair when she was seven. He'd been twelve. He smiled at her as she walked in.
“Shylldra!” he laughed, raising a cup to his lips. “Welcome home! Come and have a drink, I'm sure the wine must the dreadful at your stuffy temple. Aunty you too, I wouldn't want to leave anyone out.”
“Your majesty, perhaps we should go immediately to business.”
Whatever he might lack in authority Lekarik made up for in presence. Shylldra had barely noticed the other men in the room. The one who'd spoken was Protocal Master Gwarruf, a stooped old man in a blue robe with a beard down to his knees. The others were more impressive looking. Lord Warden Drys was there, in his skulled robes. He was almost as beautiful up close as the emperor. And hulking in the back, wearing a feathered helmet, a studded kilt, sandals, and nothing else besides the curved sword at his back, was High General Krozz.
So this is Lekarik's clique is it? Or at least the inner circle. High General Krozz, but no Grand General Ferrik? Lekarik probably doesn't have the full support of the legions. And Balrok Prison's a prestigious posting but most of Dryss's power is personal, not political. And of course my mother hasn't got any real clout. Lekarik's position is even weaker than I thought. Gwarruf's an advantage though, if anyone knows the ins and outs of imperial law and tradition it's him. Probably why Lekarik's still on the throne, and oh dear gods, this is exactly the kind of thinking I left the palace to get away from.
“Yes of course you're right Gwarruf,” Lekarik waved a languid hand. “I'll talk to my cousin in private for a moment.”
“Of course your majesty,” Gwarruf bowed. Lekarik climbed off his throne and motioned for Shylldra to follow. He led her into a side room with tapestries on the walls, and a table in the center covered with a cloth.
“Lord Emperor...” Shylldra began.
“Ah ah ah!” Lekarik said. “None of that. I still remember you biting me because I put tree sap in your hair. We don't need titles.”
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“Alright then. Lekarik. What exactly is this all about?”
“It's about this,” Lekarik pulled open the cloth bundle to reveal a double bladed Axee of gleaming ivory, inscribed in bloody runes. She'd seen the wicked bladed thing a thousand times in her father's hands but there was an aura around it that always took her breath away. She'd once heard a palace guard say the Axe “felt like a snarl,” and had never been able to come up with a better description.
“Milkaamek's ax,” She gasped.
“Yes,” Lekarik sighed. “Carved by our very own ancestor after he slew Dakkareg The Great Calamity, the largest and most vicious Tyrannosaur who ever lived. With an Axe of metal. Metal, for a weapon, can you believe it?”
“And as Dakkareg lay dying,” Shylldra said reverently, “Milkaamek called for a washing basin, and his servants filled it with enough blood to drown a man while he chose the bones he would use to make his weapon.”
“Yes yes we've all heard the story a thousand times. And old great great great whatever grandfather made the stupid Axe and declared himself emperor. And now what is it, twelve hundred years later? And I can't even touch the thing.”
Lekarik reached out to the Axe. As his finger brushed it an ear splitting roar filled the room, echoing off the walls. Green energy flowed from the Axe, a swirling cloud of claws and fangs and eyes. Lekarik jerked his hand away and the glow subsided, but an aura of menace still flowed from the Axe.
“Was that...” Shylldra said in a hushed voice, her heart still pounding from the sudden magical assault.
“The soul of the Great Calamity himself,” Lekarik said, sucking his finger. “The old boy has apparently decided Milkaamek's blood's a little too thin in me to earn his respect.”
“He must respect you a little, you're still alive. I thought if anyone not from Milkaamek's line touched the Axe they were torn to shreds. So he at least recognizes you as an heir.”
“He just doesn't want to talk to me,” Lekarrik said, eyeing the tip of his finger. “Hmm. I know it's just a scratch, but I don't suppose I could get a little bit of Maia's famous magic...”
“Oh let me look at it,” Shylldra sighed, reaching out for the emperor's hand. At the last second he turned, grabbing her wrist and forcing her fingers down towards the ax.
“No!” Shylldra shouted as her hands found the leather wrapped handle. The glowing green aura appeared again and...
Rage. Rage and fury at the little thing that dared to challenge it. Shock and horror as it pulled out some strange claw it carried, hacking and biting. Astonishment consuming horror as she/he/Dakkareg lay on the ground, blood filling her throat, as the little thing carved into her body...
Shylldra.
Shylldra.
“Shylldra!”
She snapped back to consciousness. The Emperor wasn't holding her hand anymore. He stood beside her smiling.
“Look down.”
She did. Her hand was wrapped firmly around the Axe, which lay quiet in her grip. Her first reaction was to jerk away, but then she was afraid she'd startle it and Dakkareg would tear her to shreds anyway.
How come I'm not dead?
“That's what I need you for,” Lekarik said. “That's how you can help me. Shylldra, we must get married immediately. Today, if possible.”
She said something intelligent. She thought it was “Gflubb.” Lekarik's cronies, her mother included, entered the room at some point while she was staring back and forth between Lekarik and her hand on the ax.
“You've been proposed to girl!” her mother finally snapped. “Accept and let’s get on with it.”
“I'm sorry I'm still trying to understand this,” Shylldra said. “He's my cousin, we're too closely related!”
“It would normally be an issue, yes,” Gwarruf said. “But it's not unprecedented. We need to strengthen Milkaamek's blood in the royal line. Desperately.”
“Desperately? Why so desperately?”
“His Imperial Lordship is not the first emperor unable to wield the Axe,” Dryss said. He had one of those smooth, rolling voices, the kind that always seems just a little bit sarcastic no matter what i'ts being used to say. “He's the third. Both your grandfather and great grandfather were unable to lift the Axe as well. And when your father first took the throne, neither could he.”
“My father?” Like most children with loving fathers she'd subconsciously counted him among the gods. Shylldra had been one of dozens of children and the emperor had still found time for her. That's why she hadn't left the palace until after he died. The idea that anything was impossible for him felt...wrong.
“The last Emperor was an exceptional man,” Gaulrim said. “And the blood of Milkaamek was strong in him. When he took up the Axe it resisted him, at first. But he was able to gain control. There was a time, a few generations ago, when this was the normal course of things. Your grandfather also managed to do something similar, near the end of his reign. But this is the first time the Axe has been so...vehement.”
So the problem isn't so much with the Axe or even the blood, Shylldra thought, her eyes wandering to her cousin downing another cup of wine. It's with Lekarik. He's not strong enough to control the Axe.
“But you,” Dryss said, “you are more closely related to Milkaamek than anyone alive. It's not so difficult to believe, in all those marriages and cross marriages and dalliances and affairs over the centuries. Between your mother's background and your fathers you possess the greatest amount of Milkaamek's blood.”
Shylldra just nodded.
It makes sense. And if I marry Lekarik and we have a child, that child will have an even stronger connection to Milkaamek's line. It's the same kind of breeding that went into mother's awful garudos, but what else can you expect in the palace?
“What is there to think about?” Gylldrianna said, rolling her eyes. “You would be emperor's wife! Kra Imperiens!”
“She would be delkra Imperiens,” Lekarik corrected. “I don't have any wives at the moment, just a few dozen hopeful concubines. I wouldn't ask my own cousin to become an underwife.”
“See!” Gylldrianna said. “Why could you possibly be hesitating?”
“I would have to abandon the sisterhood of Maia,” Shylldra said.
“What?” Her mother blinked. “Why? I thought you were all supposed to have children. Besides, what's it matter? You would be an empress.”
“It matters,” Gwarruf said, “because she renounced her status when she joined the temple. To regain her status—which has, yes, happened before in similar situations, but rarely—she would now have to renounce her oath to Maia.”
“There's more at stake here than titles,” Drys said. “The Axe is a symbol. Of strength, authority, of the empires millennium long history. If it becomes known that the emperor can no longer wield the Axe that would also be taken as a symbol. That we have grown weak, soft.”
“Factions within the empire might attempt a coup,” Gwarruf nodded sagely. “There are always whisperers, but knowledge of the Axe's loss could embolden them. And while all the other great empires are either on good terms with us or are too distant to pose a threat there are hundreds of smaller powers who could decide to start chipping away at the empire. By themselves or as a group. And whether by coup or invasion, whether successful or not, such a war would be bloody and vicious.”
And Maia protects, Shylldra sighed.
“Would it be possible...” Shylldra took a deep, steadying breath. “This is all coming at me so fast, my lords. Can I take a day or two to think about it? To get my head around the idea? And to pray for Maia's guidance?”
“To let those vicious old crones at the temple talk you out of it you mean,” Gylldrianna said sourly.
“Now aunty,” the Emperor said. “This is a very big decision for her. We should at least let her think about it.”
“Thank you,” Shylldra said. “I will make my way back to the temple.”
She forced herself to leave the room slowly, so as not to look like she was running away. Which she was most definitely doing.
Welcome back to the palace, she thought ruefully. How nice to see you, have some dainties, make yourself at home. Oh by the way, the entire empire could collapse unless you have sex with your cousin!
She stalked through the palace's familiar halls and reached the Courtyard of the Gods before she even realized where she was going. It was a large oval space barely tended by the palace gardeners. Clinging vines climbed the walls but were kept carefully away from the statues that lined the courtyard, one for each of the major and most of the minor gods. Maia was represented by a life sized stone maiasaur, almost as beautiful as the one in the temple hall. In fact the two statues were twins, carved by the same sculptor, but the one sent to the palace had no protoceretops around its feet and had been left much longer in the wind and weather. Sarah bowed her head before the statue, muttered a quick prayer for safety and wisdom.
Of course I'm going to do it. Too many people could get hurt if I don't. It's heavy and it hurts, but I was prepared for this before I entered the temple. Besides I know it doesn't matter if it's unpleasant. Light and life brought forth through blood and pain, one of the first things I learned in your temple. That, and that Maia protects.
Which didn't mean she was going to march right in and accept. A day wouldn't make a difference, and she intended to enjoy her last night of real freedom before the wedding preparations began. If she and Hallek could still have fun together, after she told him the news.
Hronk!
Shylldra opened her eyes and found herself standing on a marshy plain. Gone were the palace, the courtyard, and even the statues. She found herself staring into the eyes of a flesh and blood maiasaur. Or maybe even more than that. The souls in her staff were singing.
“One of Maia's messengers,” Shylldra gasped. The maiasaur honked again and reached an arm out for her. Shylldra took its hand in hers, feeling the reality of the rough scales and smooth nails in her hand with wonder.
“...ungrateful little brat!”
Her mother's voice. Shylldra found herself back in Emperor's rooms. The Maiasaur was gone, but it was obvious no one else in the room could see her. She reached out to touch the wall and her fingers faded through it like a ghost.
Alright Maia, what do you need me to see?
“Is that any way to talk about my future bride?” Lekarik said, still lounging in his chair.
“Going off to blubber to her goddess,” Gylldrianna sneered. “If it were me I'd have taken you up on the offer in a moment.”
“Even if you knew what will have to happen once the child is born?” Drys asked. “I like to think that would make me stop and think.”
“Yes but she doesn't know,” Gylldrianna said. “And she's too naive to figure it out on her own.”
“Do we have to talk about that?” Lekarik sighed. “I know why it has to be done, you explained it to me a hundred times. But talking about it is so unpleasant.”
“We must be practical,” Gwaruff said. “Her blood makes her too dangerous. Far too many of our enemies could use her as a pawn. After she bears you a son, or proves likely to bear only daughters, she must be killed before that can happen.”
A dagger of ice plunged into Shylldra's heart. Sadly, shock that her mother would betray her came a distant second to embarrassment. That she had been too naive to see it. That the first she would have known was when the real dagger pierced her heart if Maia hadn't shown her. The world spun, and she was back in the courtyard, surrounded by lifeless statues.
She turned and fled from the palace. She grabbed the first free coach she could find and ordered it to take her back to the temple, and she didn't feel safe until Maia's presence closed in around her at last. She grabbed the first initiate she saw.
“Where are the High Mothers?” she asked. “Any of them!”
“They're meeting in the Grand Altar,” the initiate said. Shylldra nodded and hurried to the deepest sanctum of the temple. The Grand Altar was a triangular room with a statue at each corner, one for each of Maia's aspects. In the middle was a towering marble altar to all three. It was said to be the heart of Maia's power in the world. It was where emperors came to pray for Maia's protection, not for themselves but for the empire. Legend said Third Emperor Tekk had saved the empire by praying there. But it had been a long time since an emperor stepped inside it, and now it was used for daily rituals.
Which Shylldra disrupted completely buy bursting in. The three High Mothers turned to her with varied mixtures of shock and scorn. There was Mother Yevin at one face of the central alter, Mother Gaath with her kindly wrinkled round face at another, and at the third short and round Mother Opa.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mother Yevin demanded.
“I...I've had a vision,” Shylldra said.
“Nonsense,” Mother Yevin snapped. “You drank too much at your little palace party.”
“Now hold on Yevin,” Mother Gaath said. “Shylldra's not the type to make things up.”
“You spoil her,” Mother Yevin shot back.
“Well I don't know the girl from Maia's left teat,” Mother Opa said. “But we should at least hear her story. It's not like Maia's never sent an acolyte visions before, if they needed them.”
Shylldra told her story, as quickly and completely as she could manage. When it was over, the High Mothers exchanged looks.
“It could be a real vision,” Mother Yevin said reluctantly. “What she described sounds like Maia's Plains.”
“I was in one of the heavens?” Shylldra blinked.
“You may have been,” Mother Yevin cut in. “Or you might have heard about it from one of the older priestesses Maia granted a vision during harvest prayers.”
“It could also have been your shock and fears giving you hallucinations,” Mother Gaath said, apparently deciding if Mother Yevin was going to be reasonable then she'd play devil's advocate. “The question is how do we tell? And what do we do about it?”
“I...did wonder if Maia wanted to save me,” Shylldra said, “or if...if she just wanted me to know everything before I did it. Marrying Lekarik really might save so many people...”
“Why don't we ask?” Mother Opa suggested. “There's a chance Maia will grant us a Telling. Especially if she really has something she needs Shylldra to know. And it is one of the perks of being a High Mother.”
“Alright,” Mother Yevin said. “Just to get this cleared up.”
A chill slid down Shylldra's spine as the three High Mother's clasped hands. She'd heard of Tellings, prophetic communions with Maia. She never thought she'd see one. Let alone have one be about her. Of course, that was if Maia chose to answer.
“I will stand for the Acrocanthosaur,” Mother Yevin said.
“I will stand for the Maiasaur,” Mother Gaath said.
“I will stand for the Protoceretops,” Mother Opa said. The three women closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Then their heads shot up and their eyes burst open, glowing with unearthly light.
“Lost Pangea burns. That power awakens now. Ambition and pride and arrogance have already begun to collide. A young genius has made a weapon. He will construct a horror. The first of pebbles of the avalanche have fallen. Run.”
“A weak emperor will become strong. Fear will walk the streets. Horror will awaken. But beyond there is a brightness. Much of this needs to be. Life and light through the pain and blood, as it has always been. He will help you. He is lost, but kind. You must struggle against the eggshell, and break free. Run.”
“You are too weak. You are not the person you need to be. You do not have the power you must have, in your body or soul or mind. You will find it on the road. Leave the city tonight. Run. RUN!”