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February 21st, 2002
Chapter One
And when the tiny, dark haired baby opened her golden eyes and cried out to the moon above, it was undeniable that it was a cry of triumph.
Look at me. The cry said. You are mine, or will be, and I am your Queen. Look at me.
And they looked.
Love, beauty, power–but most of all life. It is once of the things that it takes away the most, and it is surely the thing that is most grieved for when gone.
There are even those who seek to capture life, like ale or water, in a container, such as a cup or a jar. They are very rarely successful. Those who are, are called Hadrei-Nax; life stealer. It is another word for murderer, for you cannot steal life from the dead, and the living need what life that they have. So they were named murderers, and hunted when it was possible, and shunned when it was not.
And the greatest of them all was Hadrian.
This was what Anari Yarann thought when she gazed into the clear glass mirror she held before her. There was no denying she had aged gracefully. And yet there is a limit to how much grace can hold back sorrow and pain.
Anari was seven hundred and thirteen years old, and she looked exactly twenty seven. She knew this was so, for she had stopped aging at that day, and had not begun again.
She set down the silver backed mirror with a crisp click, and closed her eyes.
“Mahri?” The question was gentle and soft, not even a question, really, just one soft, uncertain word.
Anari opened her eyes and turned to smile at Saytia. “Here, Niai, let me hold you.” She whispered, holding out her arms.
Her youngest daughter ran to her, scrambling over the lush red cushions that filled the room, and hopping over the small table that sat to her mother’s left.
Anari looked over her head and saw the three others watching from the doorway.
“Mahri…” Ahndini glided halfway into the room, the candlelight reflecting off of black eyes.
Anari picked up the tiny child, cradling her warmth and relishing the small fingers that curled into her dress.
She straightened from her seat and smiled at her eldest daughter, suspecting that it was strained. “What’s wrong?”
Yviene moved into the room as well, her dark red eyes glowing faintly. There was restrained violence in her movements, and her lips were in a thin line.
“They have attacked.” She informed her shortly.
There is no softness in this girl. Anari thought once again. It was a familiar thought by now.
Her eldest daughter stayed in the shadows, and Anari turned her gaze to her. “Qei’ara?” She asked.
The prophet smiled faintly, once and turned her face away. They would get no answers from her tonight.
Saytia gently brushed her fingers along her mother’s cheek. “Mahri?” She whispered again, her large golden eyes sparkling with worry.
Her mother laid her cheek on the little girl’s head, closing her eyes briefly.
“It’s all right.” She whispered, and then brushed just the slightest touch of magic on her mind-but enough to make her fall into a deep sleep.
Ahndini took her as their mother rose to her feet and shook out her tunic. They were all dressed exactly alike, in knee length tunics that were slit up the sides to the hips and flowing pants beneath.
Anari couldn’t see the weapons that her daughters carried, but she knew they were there. None of her girls went anywhere without tools of murder, a hard learned lesson. Yviene led the way out of the tower door and down the winding stair. Shadows surrounded them, comforting them with an odd sense of security.
They were, after all, the mortal essence of shadows.
Ahndini paused in front of a wide, white archway with a thick black candle in front of it that burned with white flame. A small, slim brunette woman stepped out of it, though moments before it had shown nothing but an empty wall. She studied them for a long, tense moment, and then held out her arms for Saytia.
“Thank you, Ce’dana.” Anari said softly.
Ce’dana scrutinized them again with piercing eyes, and then dipped her head and stepped back through the portal. There were no words needed. When they were both completely gone, Qei’ara crushed the black candle's wick between her fingers, then rose and turned away.
They followed her silently.
They went down another stair, emerging into a large, silent stone courtyard. There were no people to fill it. They had all died or been sent away, hopefully not to their death. The four women stopped in the center and turned to stare at each other for a long, silent moment.
“Who would have thought it would end like this?” Anari whispered.
Then Qei’ara smiled.
“Not end, my loves.” She murmured. Her voice seemed to fill the enclosure, and her teeth flashed white against bronze skin. “A waiting period.”
Anari sucked in her breath as she comprehended what her youngest daughter was saying. She looked at the other two and saw their eyes widen as they, to, realized.
“Is it possible?” Yviene asked, her eyes wide. For once she looked like the 100 year old that she was, not the war hardened thousand year old she acted.
“A waiting period.” Ahndini remarked, her eyes narrowed with concentration. “Until…”
“Until Saytia.”
They all stared at her. Qei’ara smiled. “Surely you comprehended?” She inquired. “The child of our Queen and true King, born on the battlefield.”
“She is a child.” Anari protested.
Qei’ara smiled again. “That is why we wait.”
They all looked at her for a long moment, almost considering.
To Anari’s surprise, it was Ahndini who first put her hand out. “I will wait for her, as you command, Prophet.”
Anari closed her eyes for a second. May the shadows forgive me. She thought, and then extended her hand, placing the long fingers on their joined hands. “I will join you.”
Yviene made a soft sound in her throat and added her hand as well. “I will aid you, shades help me.” She sounded grim.
“So mote it be.” Qei’ara whispered.
And then the spell fell into place.
