Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

34

The Light of Turn crept in front of Edison, signaling his chance to speak. Lord Rooo concluded his argument with a polite nod to the new member, gathered his tunics in both hands, and crossed to the wooden steps that led up and over the unbroken circle of the council table.

Edison rose, pushing back his stone chair with a loud squeak. “I defer my time to Lady Hooo,” he said.

As he lowered himself back down, there were murmurs of disappointment in the crowd, likely from the xenophobes eager to see the hairy barbarian trounced by savvy, lifetime politicians.

Anlyn ignored them and rose from her seat. She walked clockwise around the circle, trailing Lord Rooo as he made his way back to his place. When she reached the legendary steps, she gathered her tunics and steeled her nerves for the walk over.

Looking down at the wooden treads, their centers worn concave with thousands of years of steady use, she took a slow first step, wondering when last a female had done so. She marched up and across the top of the bridge without pausing, not wanting any rumors of her lingering to spread among the spectators and leave the Pinnacle. If any action could be misread, she was certain it would be.

A spot of light stood in the center of the circle, an unmoving disc of photons from Hori I. Anlyn entered the shaft and felt the heat on her skin. She wondered if it had been a mistake to not coat herself in the new cosmetics used by wily politicians. She tried not to think about perspiring—knowing it would just hasten it—and surveyed those around her.

Large Drenard males, the most powerful figures in the race’s empire, returned her gaze. Many of them had worn thin expressions of bemusement at Bodi’s expense less than an hour ago. Those looks seemed to melt away as they absorbed the wisp of a female standing before them. Anlyn doubted the Chair on Drenard Cultural History could even remember how many cycles ago a woman had last served.

She bowed slightly to Edison—a Circle formality for deferred time—but also as a personal gesture. He flashed his teeth at her, wishing her well.

Anlyn thought back to a month ago, to watching him drill a small hole in one of her slave-chain links. Edison had worked the drill back and forth, hollowing out a thin channel, then had cleaned up the shavings. He had made sure she watched as he pantomimed snapping the link in half. Although both spoke English well enough, neither had said a word.

Edison explained later that it had been a favor for Molly, but that it had eventually liberated something within his own heart.

Two days after that scene, Anlyn had helped free Edison from a set of restraints aboard Parsona. The symbolism was not lost on them, and neither was the fact that both had felt alone in the universe: Edison by virtue of being one of the last of his kind, Anlyn due to her voluntary exile.

The week they’d spent together in the Darrin system, alone and working to repair Parsona, had blossomed into something more powerful than love. It was a connection that defied differences in species and their own internal barriers to being loved.

Anlyn shook the pleasant memories out of her head and cleared her throat to address the Circle, then she worried both gestures would be taken for weakness. She needed to appear strong, even though she felt weak. Brave, even though she felt scared. She concentrated on Edison’s smile and began to recite the words her aunt had taught her:

“I am Anlyn of the Hooo.” She swallowed and turned to take in more of the Circle. “I accept my Chair within this most esteemed Circle on behalf of Widow Dooo. I vow to put universe first, galaxy second, and myself last. I will serve, steadfast, on the thin border between Light and Dark. I will be guided by the fire of the passion in my heart and the cold calculation of my brain. Between these two extremes, I will find the truth of a good path and walk it straight.”

Several of the older Circle members and seated spectators cooed softly at the fine acceptance speech; it was one of the more traditional, ancient ones. The younger members, some of those aligned with Bodi, frowned, expecting more. Edison bristled with pride.

Bodi rose from his seat and destroyed the moment for her: “With all due respect, Lady Hooo, you’ll need to speak up to be heard.”

It was one of the few exceptions to the Center of Speak, and revenge for Anlyn’s handling of him an hour prior. Bodi’s allies panted with soft laughter.

Anlyn felt the rage pushing its way from her heart to her head, her body flushing with heat, her center falling off its line. She took a deep breath before continuing, forcing her eyes away from the safety of Edison’s and across the gathered males.

“The Circle has gathered to consider the eradication of the Humans, a decision being made as inflamed anger burns from the events of the past days. From my Chair, I will be counseling against this distraction from the true Drenard purpose.”

The laughter stopped immediately. Even the elders, proud to see Anlyn returned to her home in good health and taking a temporary seat on the Circle, seemed displeased.

 “One cycle ago,” Anlyn continued, “the first Human to become a Drenard left our planet. There was much hope that the prophecy of the Light Seer would come true. When it didn’t, this very Circle ringed to consider the fate of the Humans. One of my uncles used to speak of that debate, of the constant swings from fire to ice. He was always glad that temperate heads prevailed.

“I am young, I know.” Anlyn looked up into the audience, her hand on her chest. “I do not feel it, but I can see it on your faces: I am young, I am female, and I am royalty. Any side of this triangle is enough to cast doubt. All three will have each of you counting the radians to the next election. But know this: I have spent over a year of my life held captive by the worst sort of Human. Despite this, I have seen what good can come of them. The one that you consider a threat? She is my friend. I have seen her Wadi Queen, and the rumors are true. I will do everything I can from my Chair to protect her people as she has promised to do everything she can to help ours.”

She paused while the whispers grew, rumors of Molly and her Wadi crackling, spreading like a fire. Anlyn gave them a moment while she watched the Light of Turn move closer to her seat. She lifted her eyes from the Circle and swept them over the large crowd; her entire body followed, spinning in place, as if taking them all in, even as the light from Hori I made it impossible to see very far into the shadows.

“Our empire has moved to the darkness,” she told them, and coos of discord swept the gathered. She raised her voice. “It moved to the darkness as we relied on the Seer’s prophecy to light our way. It moved to the darkness when that light never came. And now we feel the urge to throw ourselves into the fire, eager to kill or be killed because we’ve grown frightened of the dark.

“I came here today to urge restraint.” She placed one of her fists in the palm of her hand. “A few of our true enemy, posing as Humans, have sown anger in your hearts. Some of you wish to eradicate them all, pushing throughout the galaxy and exterminating our neighbors. I come here to—”

“You come to urge NOTHING!” someone yelled from the audience. There were coos of surprise, the rumble of thousands turning in their seats. Blue tunics descended from the balcony as those seated near, moved away from the man, who continued to protest.

“We’ve tried nothing already!” he yelled. “We’ve tried restraint! We want WAR! ”

The guards in blue seized the figure, pulling him up the aisle.

His tirade continued amid a growing chorus of nods and whispers.

Whispers growing to shouts.

••••

The conversation Molly was having with Cole stopped—his thoughts removed from her head and replaced with pain.

Molly shrieked and slapped at her helmet, fumbling for the clasps. Her brain wailed with the same white noise and painful light she’d felt on Dakura. She couldn’t find the release clasps, so she shook her gloves free, feeling with her bare hands around the back of the smooth shell. As soon as she clicked them loose, she shoved her helmet up and tore the band off her head.

The noise went away immediately, leaving just a resonant hum in her skull. Remnants of the white light