Page 45 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
Confusion swirled around Apattar’s mind. Nothing made sense. She wanted to rage and threaten the gods. How could this be anything other than torture? A constant swing between despair and hope, between madness and divine intervention. As the anger crescendoed, the silky smooth voice of her guide slid into Apattar’s mind. A cool numbness spread.
Forgive me, please… I am everywhere and nowhere, my body fed to the stars. Do not let my absence fester in your heart. It is so hard, so hard to find you in the black void of my demise.
All doubt and regret fled at the first sound of the musical voice, every syllable building the former confidence and sense of resplendent power in the deathly woman. Overwhelmed by afiery warmth spreading through her belly, Apattar cried out and flung her arms around Saiya. She pulled the tiny woman in close, wrapping arms warped with burn scars around her mistress.
“Come, let us leave this place of ruin,” Saiya murmured. “You need a warm bath, and I’ll fix your hair. You will feel so much better, my lady. We can talk of destiny and the future later.”
Too overwhelmed by the sudden return of Saiya and her divine whispering guide, Apattar only nodded in reply. The handmaiden-turned-savior guided her through the tangle of trees and burnt ruins, past the wide expanse of fields and the outskirts of the Weavers District. They walked for miles guided only by the moonlight, the city fast asleep as night crept by.
Eyes heavy with weariness, the world slipped into a fog as feet shuffled along cool golden sands. The two women walked through the night, each step closer to an uncertain end.
“Here, this way, mylady.” Saiya’s directions pulled Apattar out of the walking trance. She looked around, trying to place where Saiya had led her.
Walls of tall, smooth white stone surrounded them on three sides, opening into a large atrium in front of where the women stood. In the center, aglow under silver moonlight, stood a statue of a faceless woman armed with throwing stars in each arm. Threads of gossamer interwoven with tiny seven-pointed stars draped over the statue’s shoulders, strands of starlight caressing her body. The Sunmaiden Myrniar in all her beauty. Apattar shivered.
Another betrayer!
“Saiya,” Apattar hissed. “Why are we in the Sunmaiden’s Crypt?” Uneasiness settled into the pit of her stomach.
“We’re not staying here for long. There is a hidden passageway behind this wall. It leads out of the city, but there are offshoots along the way. I found what I think is an abandoned secret refuge among the twists and curves. It’s perfectly safe. I’ve never seen another soul.”
As she spoke, Saiya tapped a quick pattern on the stone wall underneath a golden sun inlaid with a silver crescent moon. With a quietclickthe stones shifted and melted away.
A black corridor lit with sparse floating amber orbs of light stretched out in front of the women. The smooth black stones seemed to shimmer in the light. The faint aroma of sandalwood and jasmine invited them in. Saiya stepped through first before reaching for Apattar’s hand. Crossing the threshold, she felt the fleeting sensation of hands tugging at her clothes. After they both passed the entrance, it dissolved again, and a smooth black stone wall blocked their exit.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Saiya remarked. “I think this place is from the First Era. It feels divine, somehow. Untouched by the troubles of the world. I found it as a girl. You’re not the only one to sneak out at night,” she said, winking as she spoke. “I used to come and stare at Myrniar for hours. One night, I heard a tapping at the wall. I tapped a reply, and the stones melted away. I don’t know why I didn’t run. Instead, I found myself here night after night.”
“We are more alike than I realized,” Apattar murmured.
Saiya stopped walking and turned, remorse filling her eyes. “I hate myself for waiting so long to tell you. But you know now. Stay close. It isn’t far, but there are many dead ends. It took me years to map it all out.”
Apattar walked without question, an obedient follower too tired to shape her thoughts. The endless twists and turnsblended together, each corridor the same as the previous one. Every so often, a side passage opened up, but Saiya ignored them all. After what seemed like near two hours of endless walking, the two women came to a dead-end in a large room with vaulted ceilings.
Bookshelves twice as tall as Apattar lined the walls. Books decaying to dust sat on the shelves, some only filled with scraps of yellowed paper fraught with silver-lined holes. A singular shelf held scrolls in near-pristine condition. In the center of the tall ceiling hung a chandelier, a dim purple orb floating in the center. The light reflected off the cut crystals and cast a soft glow over the room. Hundreds of stars dotted the swirling blue and black ceiling. Under seven constellations, names appeared in a strange language. Lines with open and shaded circles, swirls and loops, and a few recognizable letters from the Eábhir alphabet greeted Apattar’s eyes.
“The Seven Sisters,” Saiya murmured. “Their names all preserved except for the Dark Goddess herself. It’s hard to believe it’s possible to kill a god.”
Apattar did not reply. Thoughts of the strange vision she had on the ship returned. Seven figures together, six betraying one. Did the lost Goddess speak to the woman, her life playing out on a divine stage she could not see?
A burning knife sliced across Apattar’s left palm. The flash of pain punched the air from her lungs. Squeezing her eyes shut, the void lashed out in retribution. A cool tendril of Shadow-weave wove around her hand. With another breath, the pain vanished, and the shadows withdrew.
“My lady, are yo—”
Apattar laid a hand on Saiya’s shoulder, a thin smile spreading across her lips. “Please, call me Apattar. You deserve that much, as my friend and savior.”
“Oh,” Saiya said with a nervous chuckle. “Apattar, are you well?”
Apattar scrunched up her face. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I need a minute, please.”
After a short rest, Saiya took Apattar’s hand and guided her to the back wall. Amongst the disintegrating books stood one with its binding still intact; faded, but not decayed like the others. Saiya tilted it back. A groaning creak emanated from the bookshelf before swinging open with a lurch. Dust and shreds of paper flew through the air. Apattar wheezed, swallowing what little spit she could muster to keep from descending into a coughing fit.
Hidden behind the shelves was a room with several small beds and other bedroom furnishings. On the large back wall in silvery-blue paint, a woman danced surrounded by shades. In the distance stood six hooded figures, a dagger brandished by one. More of the strange language detailed the scene. On the adjacent wall, seven hooded figures stood in a circle, an orb floating between them. The third wall depicted hundreds of crude humanoid forms fighting each other, the woman from the first mural dripping silver blood from her hand while watching the battle from above.
“Haunting and beautiful, aren’t they?” Saiya watched as Apattar took in the murals. “There are more like this in other hidden rooms. It tells a story, but of what, I am not certain.”
“I know,” whispered Apattar under her breath.
Seven Sisters. Six betrayers. One corpse.
