ZYGRADON

By

Uncial Press       Aloha, Oregon
2007

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described
herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and
are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events,
locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

Copyright 2007 by Michelle L. Levigne

ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-007-6
ISBN 10: 1-60174-007-7

Cover design by Judith B. Glad

All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic,
mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden
without the written permission of the author or publisher.

Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.

Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

Star-metal fell from the winter sky the night a boy was born in the Stronghold of
the Queen of Snows.

Le'esha, Queen of Snows, stood on the highest cliff looking out over the
ice-flecked Northern Sea. Behind her lay her domain, the Stronghold of the Rey'kil, a race
born with magic in their blood. Before her, a vision of the future.

She smiled despite her mourning and weariness, when her assistant, Theana
came to her in mixed joy and confusion to bring her the news of the boy's birth. As the
white mist of a Seeing faded from her green eyes, Le'esha felt the pain and struggle of the
centuries to come. Still, she smiled because a child had been born, new life amidst the
pain and loss. Hope had been granted, a possible path and light leading to peace, despite
the war between the barbarian Encindi of the southern continent, and the allied forces of
the Rey'kil and Noveni.

"M'reena has birthed a boy." Theana had to force her voice above the howl of
the wind that threatened another bitter storm.

"Yes, I know. A child of portent. Star-metal has fallen out of season. On
Moerta, rather than over the sea."

"We will have more Noveni invading Lygroes, then," the girl sighed, and
shrugged in resignation.

"The Encindi have lost more of their land in the latest winter quakes and floods,
so they shall try even harder to take Lygroes from us when spring comes."

"Lady, how can you smile? The boy is obviously a portent of disaster. What
good is it to destroy the Encindi barbarians if the Noveni and Rey'kil are wiped from the
World as well?"

"No. Not nearly so grim." Le'esha smiled and pulled her hood back, baring her
white hair and pale skin to the winter storm's blast.

Nearly a century of serving as visionary to her people and leading them in
partnership with the Rey'kil's High Scholar on the Isle of Wynystrys had turned her hair as
white as the light from the stars. The power that flowed through her had purified her,
like fire purified silver.

"We are the Rey'kil, gifted with power in our blood, made by the Estall to
protect the Noveni from the Encindi. This boy born tonight will find answers and teach
strong minds and put weapons in strong hands. He will guard a king and guide a queen
and win an untouchable heart. I have seen a bowl, which shall guard life and tie all the
Threads of the World together, and a sword which shall guard the bowl. He will be tied
to both, by blood and spirit and power. He will find the long-sought way to heal
Moerta from the poison of star-metal."

"But M'reena weeps as she nurses her son," Theana said, pouting just a
little.

"She does well to weep. Illis has died tonight. His soul reached to her as he
crossed over to the Estall's Bliss. The shock of losing him brought on her labor weeks
early."

"Illis?" Theana gasped and staggered a little, as Le'esha had staggered when she
felt the death of one of her favorite warriors. "How? How could anyone kill him? He
carries more magic than ten Renunciates serving Wynystrys or the Stronghold."

Le'esha closed her eyes against fresh tears. She knew that in some small way, she
had contributed to Illis' death and M'reena's sorrow and loss.

"Word came from High Scholar Breylon and Graddon of Whispering Vale. Their
visions matched mine. I spoke of it to all my warriors. Before we could devise a plan or
even gauge the danger, Illis demanded the mission. He declared it was his right to travel
to Flintan and seek the truth within the Nameless One's fortress." She sighed, took a deep
breath and turned to face the stormy Northern Sea again. "We saw a boy, born this
winter, who shall hold the power to save the World. And we saw a boy, born this
winter, who shall walk in a trail of blood and reach to destroy the World. Graddon saw
the trail of blood flow from Flintan and end here, at a cradle that dripped blood."

"M'reena's boy?" Theana shuddered.

"The Nameless One tries to breed himself an heir among the Encindi women. A
son to use the power of the Threads and reclaim the lost shape-shifting magic of the
Encindi. Blood magic has destroyed his ability to see and feel the Threads, so he seeks a
son to hold that magic in thrall for him."

"What does that have to do with M'reena's boy?"

"M'reena's mother was raped by Encindi. M'reena is a half-blood, strong in
magic. Turning to blood magic destroys more than the ability to see and feel the Threads
that give us our power. Decades of using blood magic could have made him impotent. If
he is unable to breed his own child, and if he knows of M'reena's ancestry, the Nameless
One might try to take her son to raise as his own."

"Illis went to protect his wife and son." Theana nodded. "The Estall bless him." A
sob escaped her and she wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders against a fresh
gust of howling wind, as if the very elements roared in mourning for the bravest of the
Queen of Snow's warriors. "The Estall comfort M'reena and their son."

"He went to see if the rumors are true, and the Nameless One has a son,"
Le'esha added.
And I, Estall forgive me, told him of the vision that led him to his
death.

* * * *

M'reena smiled proudly when the Queen of Snows came to see her and her
son. Her voice was strong and sweet, despite her tears, and she sang lullabies to the
newborn until she fell asleep. Then she died in her sleep. Le'esha found her the next
morning with the baby cradled in her arms, tears on her cheeks and a faint smile on her
lips.

Le'esha named the boy Mrillis, to honor both his parents who gave their lives in
the service of the Estall and Lygroes and all the World.

She was not surprised when, the moment the storm calmed from its roaring and
the sea no longer tossed with ice and foam, Graddon of Whispering Vale appeared at the
Mist Gates of the Stronghold. The reclusive seer of the Rey'kil needed no testing to enter
the Stronghold. If he wished, he could have passed through the barrier of the Lake of Ice
and appeared in Le'esha's inner chambers without anyone realizing he was there. To
honor the Queen of Snows, he waited until she came to meet him. Together, they
walked in silence through the Mist Gates, up the long, winding stairs through the stone
tunnels of the Stronghold, until they came to the nursery.

They stood for nearly an hour in silence, watching the newborn boy
sleep.

"Which one is he?" she whispered, when the boy's wet-nurse had fallen asleep,
and only the soft sighing of their breaths stirred in the tapestry-hung room.

"At this moment of time, he could be both, and he could be neither," the bald
seer said in a voice as rocky as his features. Graddon gently brushed a dark curl off the
baby's forehead with one calloused finger. "Many paths lie before him, and the trail of
blood tangles with his trail many times. I cannot see if he walks it or he tries to cleanse it.
If he tries to topple the one whose feet are covered in blood or tries to keep that other
one from falling." He sighed, but hope gleamed in his pale green eyes as he turned to
meet her gaze.

"What do you see, then, to bring you here?"

"I see the bowl and sword, as you did. He will be part of their making, and he
will be part of their guarding and their losing and their hiding. They will be so much a
part of his blood and soul that his death could destroy them--and their destruction could
kill him. His life lies in our hands. We are the ones who will put him on the path he will
walk. If he is the Child of Blood, then all history will condemn us as much as him for the
choices we make."

"Some among the Noveni would tell us to kill the babe now, and avert that
future," she whispered.

"And that is why we tell them so few of our visions, yes?" He chuckled,
immediately hushing when the sound of his voice made baby and wet-nurse sigh in their
sleep.

"If he is the Child of Life, then he must live to battle the Child of Blood and
Death."

"Indeed." Graddon lightly ran his fingertips down the length of the boy's body
and sparks of color danced between flesh and blankets. He caught a plump little fist
between two fingers. "I had thought to teach him to work metal and wood and clay,
when he is older, but these are not the hands to form the bowl, which must come first.
Strange." He nodded, put the tiny fist down, and turned to her. "The hands I seek have
yet to be formed. He holds the hands that weave the bowl from power and air and
liquid metal. Guard him, sister of my soul. I will come to teach him and any others who
wish to learn. You will not see me until that time comes."

Mrillis grew quickly, as dark, strong and clever as his father had been; as wise,
thoughtful and slim as his mother. The Queen of Snows' ladies walked the knife's edge of
spoiling him, exclaiming over his every accomplishment as if no child had ever grown up
in the Stronghold. Certainly no child was ever so swift and skillful in learning to feel the
first stirrings of the
imbrose
, the foundation of all magic talent. This ability to
sense and manipulate the
imbrose
was the special gift and duty of the Rey'kil,
given to them by the Estall when the three races first came to the World.

Le'esha kept the boy busy learning and growing, tempering the blade that he
would someday become, her plan to keep him too busy to grow vain or consider the
constant flow of attention as his due. She talked to him often of his parents, their youth
and training and deep love. She told him, when she thought he was old enough to
understand, how they had died together, sacrificed in the battle to defeat the Encindi and
the Nameless One, the rebel Rey'kil enchanter who violated the laws of the Estall and
used blood magic to try to control the World. She taught him to honor his parents, to
see them as heroes, and to see himself as a guardian of the small and weak and
orphaned.

She had proof that he took her teaching to heart when one of her ladies,
Neeria, was murdered during a courier run between the Warhawk and Wynystrys,
leaving behind her daughter, Ceera. Mrillis took the silver-haired toddler, two years his
junior, as his special charge. Ceera's father still lived, but Candon rarely saw his daughter.
A warrior with little
imbrose
, he spent his days as spy and courier for the
Warhawk.

Mrillis, at barely five years of age, made the little girl his student, teaching her
everything Le'esha taught him about the history of the World and the duties of the
Rey'kil. No one laughed at him, though a few did smile and shake their heads in
amusement at his seriousness.

For the first seven years of his life, Mrillis never left the Stronghold of the
Queen of Snows. He knew every step of every tunnel and passageway, every ledge. He
loved to venture through the underground passages to the settlement in the sheltering
maze of canyons beyond the Stronghold, where the husbands of the Queen's ladies lived;
warriors, messengers, craftsmen and hunters. These men came often into the Stronghold
and were uncles and surrogate fathers to the boy. They taught him to value the greater
strength that lay in service and protecting the weak and defenseless.

He never went past the Lake of Ice, which filled the center canyon, and through
which the river passed on its way from the Northern Sea to the heart of Lygroes. Fable
said the Queen of Snows purified the salty water, making it sweet, a healing tonic for the
Rey'kil and the increasing number of Noveni in Lygroes.

Noveni had no
imbrose
. As more star-metal fell from the skies on
Moerta in the spring, poisoning everything for leagues around it, more Noveni fled to
Rey'kil land for safety.

Fable was partially right. The first Queen of Snows had seen how ice filtered salt
and other impurities. She turned the natural lake to ice and all her heirs maintained it as
ice even in the hottest summers and deepest droughts.