Molly Fyde and the Land of Light

commons—the flash of a missile coming to life in the dewy grass—she could barely distinguish it from her own illusory fireworks. It wasn’t until the object sailed overhead, trailed by a cone of plasma, that Molly could actually tease it apart from her misery.

The missile flew over the remains of the house and slammed into Byrne’s ship, which exploded in a fury of twisted, glowing metal. The hyperdrive wasn’t destroyed immediately, however. As the shockwave from the blast expanded out into Lok’s atmosphere, the drive continued to hum on a low setting—still trying to unlock a gate through which armies were destined to spill.

The wave of compressed air hit the commons moments after the bright ball of fire. It slammed into the contraption behind Byrne, teetering it. The old agent almost had enough time to scream before the cross fell across his back and erupted in a glory of sparks.

The majority of him winked out of the universe, accompanied by a soft pop of air as it rushed in to fill the vacuum.

Beyond, in the engine room of Byrne’s ship, the hyperdrive erupted, coating the wreckage with burning fusion fuel. The smell of something dead, billions of charred carcasses, wafted out over the commons.

The odor drifted down to Molly, coating her in its foul tartness…

…as she finally drifted off to black.

36

Anlyn stepped over the wooden bridge, noting with horror the small flecks of charred ash her pyrotechnic display had created in the ancient wood.

She crossed the circle and entered the Light of Speak, which felt even warmer the second time around. There were fewer eyes upon her, but the intensity of each gaze had been multiplied.

Several of the Counselors had already left, the vote done and sealed. Only a few hundred spectators remained, likely those gossipers hoping some dollop of news would trump the Drenards that had escaped with the scoop. Anlyn saw that Bodi had remained, probably to gauge any potential threat.

She took a deep breath.

“I represent the Minority Position,” Anlyn said, “and I wish to have my doubts recorded, that they be our doubts in the cycle to come.” Several dissenters nodded, as well as a few who had voted “war” well after the issue had already been decided—swept up in the fury of the political mob.

Anlyn looked over the Circle and into the sparse crowd, directing her speech to them. “I am Anlyn Hooo of the Royal Tree. When I was born, my people believed in a great prophecy. In both song and rhyme, they celebrated the end of the Bern threat as foretold by the one we call the Light Seer but who our enemy refers to as the Bern Seer.

“There are many ways to read the Prophecy. Some have urged for peace with the Humans because it seems our combined power alone can end this grave threat. But there are those who walk the way of the cold and see the Prophecy as a promise for doom. For them, the flood spoken of puts an end to our galaxy, to our entire universe.

“A cycle ago, a human couple came to this planet, first as prisoners under suspicion, then as guests. When one of these became a Drenard, a new interpretation of the Prophecy was seized upon. Soon, this new method of reading grew and became known as ‘The One’ reading. And yet—like all other readings before—the proclamation failed. The difference was, this time…”

Anlyn scanned the crowd through the glare of the cone of light. She took another deep breath and licked her dry lips. “The difference was that this time so many of you believed. And your faith devastated you as it was pulled away. It had become attached, and it took something with it as it was discarded. I watched it happen as a youth, not affected as I had not yet learned to believe. I watched what transpired, and I promised myself it would never happen to me. I would never believe in anything.”

Anlyn looked to Edison, then turned slowly, taking in the whole of the darkness beyond the circle.

“We are a people that thrive on the edge, balanced between the passion of our burning hearts and the rationality of our cold thoughts. When I ran from here, from my home…” she turned to Bodi. “When I ran from you, it was with a heart that had never been lit. It was with cold thought alone.

“Mortimor and Parsona Fyde came to Drenard a full cycle ago, and they were, neither of them, the One. But I believe… I believe they gave birth to the One. It’s insane to hear it, I know. But it’s not insane to know it. I have feared this burning in my heart, but not now. Now, I balance it with my cold, objective thoughts.

“Molly Fyde, the daughter of Mortimor and Parsona, rescued me from bondage. What are the chances of that? Born on Lok, and therefore more from that planet than either of her parents, she is Human and Drenard alike. And the Wadi, I know the rumors don’t agree, but take it from me—I’ve seen it! I’ve touched it! The Living Queen is real.”

Anlyn met Edison’s gaze, felt the tears streaking down her face. “The Prophecy is real. I don’t know how, but I know that it is. You have been burned before by false hope and the passion of faith, and I watched from a distance. I will not ask anyone to go with me, but go I must.

“While the rest of the great Drenard Empire prepares for war with our neighbors, I will go to the great Bern Rift as the Prophecy decrees. I will await whatever comes through to harm us, alone if need be.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Bodi shouted. “The vote is over. You’re reciting superstition, not a Minority Position. I demand that—”

Anlyn whirled on him. “My going will have nothing to do with your insane war or your false vote. I’ll be going as an ambassador to the Bern people, as is my right as next in line to the throne.” She nodded to Edison. “And if the Counselor on Alien Relations will accompany me, we’ll take the full regiment of volunteers decreed for that purpose.”

“Alien Relations? Ambassador?” Bodi scoffed. “For the Bern?!”

“Ambassador, yes.” She paused, turning in the Light of Speak to address Bodi once more. “For the Bern? No.” She lowered her voice as the wave of panic and confusion returned to the Pinnacle, spectators pushing their way to the exit to trump the other news-bearers.

“Two can bend the rules, Bodi. For right as well as wrong. The Prophecy will not disappoint another generation, I know it.”

“You’re a fool,” he spat at her.

Anlyn turned, walking back to the wooden bridge dotted with tiny burns.

“Aye, a fool,” she murmured. “A happy, hopeful fool.”

••••

When Molly came to, Walter stood over her, prying Byrne’s fingers off her neck. She could feel the other severed hand still tangled in her hair; she reached back and touched it, a solid clutch of steel wrapped around a handful of her locks. It seemed the two arms were all that remained of Byrne in the galaxy.

Fighting for a breath, her throat burning, she croaked, “What happened?” as Walter pried the hand away.

“I ssaved you,” he said through his helmet’s open visor. He held Byrne’s arm up with one hand and waved it in the air like a sword. The fallen work light illuminated the scene with a dramatic glow, the batteries flickering for added effect.

Molly fumbled with the hand knotted in her hair, wondering if she’d have to cut it out to free the thing. “How?” She turned to look back toward the commons.

“Your friend called on the radio,” Walter said. He jabbed a finger against his helmet. “She taught me how to usse the SSADAR and fire the misssiless.” He stopped swinging the sword and took his helmet off, dropping it into the dirt and leaning in close to Molly.

“Doess thiss make me your navigator?” he asked. He bent down, his metallic face flickering in the light of the burning ship. “Sshould we kisss?” He pursed his thin lips, his eyes wide and begging.