Golden Daughter (24 page)

“Chiev,” Jovann repeated. His feet faltered, and his heart beat a furious rhythm. “The North Star.”

How many times in his life had he and all his father’s tribe turned their faces to the sky, seeking out Chiev to guide them straight and true to the summer hunting grounds. The star of the true north, the star with the blue aura.

A thrill of pleasure passed through Jovann’s body from his heart to his head. He looked down at Lady Hariawan pressed close to his side. He wondered if she heard, if she saw, if she felt any of the things he now experienced. But how could she? If she did, she would not be hiding her face in her hands behind that curtain of hair. She would be looking up, looking around, drinking in all she could possibly contain.

Perhaps she perceived everything differently, he thought. Perhaps there were no images in her head to contain these Gardens.

Perhaps that which seemed to him the very perfection of heaven was to her the very depths of hell.

He had no words to comfort her. He could do nothing but hold her close. She had wanted to come here, and he had brought her. He would see her safely out once more. But not yet. He must follow the star.

The farther they went, the more thickly bloomed the flowers above them, the more thickly gathered the Dara. All Jovann’s vision was full of light, and even the shadows seemed to shine. The water, deep as endless night, filled with the glory above it and seemed to live and love in response, its waves echoing back songs. Jovann found that he himself was trying to sing.

He quickly shut his mouth. What a gawping frog he must sound among the Moon’s own children! But somehow, he thought, he was meant to sing. Somehow he must try to learn.

Then he forgot everything. For the Moon herself was above him.

If the stars had been glorious, here was something beyond glory. Something so huge that mortal words could not encompass her nor mortal eyes perceive her. But he knew it was she. He felt her above him, tremendously beautiful. The Queen of the Sky.

The goddess of his people.

He felt the trueness of
motherhood
surrounding him. The reality of all things female, all things strong. The greatness of pain, of sacrifice, of joy. The Lady Moon existed in mighty contrast to the Lordly Sun, as harmony complementing his melody. But it was she, Jovann knew with a sudden clarity of vision, who was the greater strength.

He could not put a shape to her; she dazzled him too much. He tried to see her as the shining moon he had watched wax and wane in the mortal world, but she would not be fitted into that image.

She sang. He knew she spoke to him. But her words were too enormous, and they washed over him like the whole of the ocean itself. He could do nothing, nothing but hold Lady Hariawan close and hope that she did not shatter in his arms.

The blue star rested its horn upon Jovann’s shoulder. Suddenly he could hear the words in the Moon’s voice.

I have sung of your coming in the great Harmony given me by He Who Names Them. I have sung of your coming from Beyond the Dream. And I sing your name—Dream Walker, Vision Speaker. Blessed forerunner to whom the Secret will be given.

Jovann looked up. He saw a form like a woman’s, but more like the Truth of Womanhood. He saw his mother as he perceived her with his heart, sitting enthroned, beautiful beyond words. Full of light. Full of Song.

The Moon smiled at him. And he went down upon one knee, Lady Hariawan forgotten as he sought to make reverence before her whom he had worshipped since childhood.

“Get up,” said the star behind him. “Do not worship. For she did not compose the Song we sing.”

Jovann could not obey. He remained kneeling, his face upraised, gazing upon that vision he could scarcely bear to see.

The Moon smiled, but it was a sad smile.. Then she said:

I have dreaded and longed for your coming. It is for me the foretelling of sorrow.

He could not reply. There could be no reply. Of course she had known he would come. How could she not? She must know every secret of his heart.

“Take care, mortal,” whispered the star at his back, and the horn pressed harder into his shoulder. “Do not worship.”

The Moon leaned down from her great throne, scattering light and brilliance from her face. One hand stretched out, and Jovann saw her pluck a blossom growing near to her throne. Worlds trembled when she plucked it. Nations could be toppled in that single action.

I will now speak the Secret,
the Moon said, cupping the flower in her hand and turning once more to address Jovann.
And you will carry it beyond to the mortal world to give them hope. To give them comfort. To remind them that they are not forgotten. Will you hear me, Dream Walker?

Jovann could not speak with his mouth, but his heart shouted out in response, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

And it was as though he shouted at the same time, “Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!”

So the Moon spoke Mercy. And there was wonder in her words, as though she herself could scarcely believe them.

My Lord, the Lumil Eliasul, the Giver of Songs will enter the mortal world. By the will of his Father, he will take upon himself the form of a man. Flesh. Blood. A body that decays with Time. But this body will not bind him, and he will wear it in perfection. He will slay at last his Great Enemy and . . .

Here her voice faltered. And all the voices of the heavens stilled. The Song supporting everything in that world, the Song forming the foundations upon which the Gardens, the Dara, the Moon herself existed, froze, as every star in the sky held its breath.

And Jovann too held his breath, knowing that he was about to hear something that would change everything. Everything. Not just for himself, but for his world. For all worlds. For all Times.

The Moon said,
He will win for himself a bride from among the mortals. And he will take her for his own, and prove for all eternity how great, how deep, how unknowable, how endless is his love.

The stars breathed again. And they exploded suddenly in triumphant chorus, their language far beyond Jovann’s comprehension. But he found his own mouth moving, his own voice singing,

Beyond the Final Water Falling,

The Song forever Calling.

The Sun, the Moon, the Stars proclaim it from on high!

He will return for me.

And the Song containing the Secret now spoken as Promise shot across the whole of the Heavens and rained down upon all the worlds. All heard it, though few understood its meaning. But understanding could not change the truth of it as it fell in splendor both seen and unseen. In a kingdom hidden inside a mountain, a queen stood at the mountain peak and received the Song in both upraised hands. In another kingdom made of stone and despair, a different queen heard it, and her beautiful face, swathed in veiling enchantments, trembled with fear. A lone knight in a far Haven, deep in the Wood Between, raised up her head from her labors, and her dark eyes filled with the Song she heard. Faerie kings and queens, lords and ladies across the nations and the worlds heard the strange sounds of the Stars’ Song, and they wondered at the marvel they heard spoken.

Even in the mortal world there were those who felt a new stirring in their hearts. And they briefly raised their faces to the heavens, gazing up at the so-distant stars. Wonder moved them, and they thought that mercy was now possible, that hope would be restored, that they were not so wholly abandoned to their helpless, decaying state.

The chorus might have rung for a thousand years and more. It did not matter. Time did not matter here in the Gardens. But when at last the first explosion of sound faded a little, Jovann found himself smiling up into the Moon’s shining visage.

She took the flower in her hand and extended it to Jovann.
Take this,
she said,
and return to the mortal world. It will be a sign, a sign of the promise to be fulfilled. For she whom the Lumil Eliasul takes as his bride will wear this flower upon her hand.

Suddenly Jovann felt a warm, wonderful breath upon his forehead. And then the Moon kissed him. She drew back and gazed forever down into his eyes.

It is a gift of the heart,
she said.
Choose well to whom you give it. I will see you again, sweet child. Soon now.

The Gate stood before him.

Jovann blinked several times, and he felt his spirit waver like a flame in the wind. Why was he here? Now? The last he recalled, he stood before the Lady Moon herself, receiving her secret. And now . . .

Was it a dream?

“No,” said the Dara. “But you must return to the Dream.”

Jovann startled and whirled around. There stood the shimmering North Star in the darkness of the sky. Blue flame crept up its slender legs and licked from the ends of its mane. It wanted to shake off its corporeal form, to return to the Song above. But it waited patiently, regarding Jovann with solemn, ageless eyes.

Jovann realized that his hand clenched in a fist. He tore his gaze from the unicorn and studied his fist, wondering what he held inside. But he could not make his fingers uncurl.

Suddenly his head came up. “Where is Lady Hariawan?”

“There,” said the unicorn, and indicated with a sweep of its horn. Jovann looked and saw a crumpled form lying just before the enormous gate. He realized that the distance between him and the Gate was much greater than he had first supposed, for there were no clear perspective marks here, and the Gate was huge indeed. But he saw Lady Hariawan, tiny and limp on the stretch of shore.

“What has become of her?” he demanded, breaking into a run even as he spoke. Waves splashed beneath his feet, and he felt the sand bar giving way, crumbling at each footfall. He doubled his speed, and the star kept pace easily behind him. “What has become of her?” Jovann gasped again.

“She could not bear what her mind created for her,” said the star, and offered no other explanation. Somehow Jovann understood without understanding, and he asked nothing more.

The ocean swelled up in a wave behind him, and he felt it catch him and thrust him forward. He drew a deep breath, though breathing scarcely mattered here, and forced his eyes to remain open even as the many-colored water overwhelmed him. He glimpsed the world as seen through the film of the Final Water, and it was a dreadful sight, dreadful in its beauty.

Then, with a crash and shattering of crystal, he was deposited upon the little strip of shore before the gate. Bits of light fell from his hair, dripped down his cheeks and chin, and he laughed suddenly, for it was thrilling to have been borne on such a wave.

But he shook the laugh away and crawled to Lady Hariawan.

She lay in a faint, her face turned away from him, one arm curved above her head, the other draped over her middle. Her bare feet were covered in sand, and there was sand in her hair and robes.

“My darling!” Jovann gasped, and he took her into his arms. As he did so, her face turned toward him.

Jovann screamed.

For it was not Lady Hariawan’s face he saw. It was the face of a withered hag.

“What have you brought upon us, mortal?”

The star standing on the edge of the shore flared its nostrils, and darkness filled its eyes. Its voice rumbled down through Jovann’s terror and spoke with fearful dread into his heart. “What you have you brought upon us?”

Jovann shuddered, and his arms threatened to thrust their burden away. But one hand was still clenched in a fist, and he felt the thing he held. Though he could not recall what it was, somehow it gave him strength.

Averting his eyes from the horrible vision, he struggled to his feet, with that which had once been Lady Hariawan limp in his grasp. He turned to the star. But the star spoke first.

“I feel it come,” it said, and the core of its being shook so that the water beneath its feet rippled and rushed away. “I’ve sung of it but without understanding. I feel the change you foreshadow.”

It took a step nearer then lowered its horn so that the point rested just above Lady Hariawan’s heart. But it did not touch her.

What have you brought into our midst, mortal man?
Even as it spoke, blue flames burst across its flanks, up its neck, engulfing its head. It reared up, trumpeting a warning to the sky, and all the stars above turned their heads and stared down upon Jovann and his burden.