A Day In Wyn Avuqua

1010 A.D.
The Realm of Wyn Avuqua

A rare sight: sunlight. It is golden. It reaches into the chamber from a high portal in the stone wall. Julia lies on Loche’s chest. His open hand rests upon her back. He can feel the bones of her spine between her shoulder blades, the gentle thud of her heartbeat and the warmth of her body stretched along his. She has slept. Deeply. This sleep has been perhaps her first relief from the torture of the Rathinalya since Edwin’s fall.

“Awake?” Loche whispers. She does not stir. He combs his fingers through her hair.

The fire in the hearth has faded to orange coals. The table beside is still arrayed with meats, cheeses and fruit from the night before. Loche lets his eyes drink in the ray of distant sunlight. He cannot recall the last time he has seen the sun. He cannot remember the last time he felt comfort. Julia’s soft breathing, the scent of her in the air, the soft weight of her hair lying across his skin—he had forgotten this feeling—he realizes how much he has missed the touch of a loved one.

And today, he muses, is a day off. A half scowl, half smile forms at the absurdity of the thought. There is no escape from the nightmare—no turning away from the circumstance he has founded. But the Queen commands.

Last night’s memory returns. Loche Newirth, the Poet, told his story to the Queen while Edwin and Iteav played with toys in an adjacent room. William took up the story once or twice, as did Julia and Corey. Leonaie Echelle spoke of how she came to be immortal through the efforts of her lover, Samuel Lifeson. She then recounted his tragic death at the hand of the assassin Emil Wishfeill. Helen remained silent. When the Queen asked her if she had words to add Helen replied quietly, “Not yet.”

When Loche found no more to say, the Queen called for Iteav and the healer, Lornensha, to accompany her while she thought more on these things. She then bade Loche and his companions to take food and to rest. “Helen Newirth, you and your young son, along with William Greenhame and Talan Adamsman, will stay in this Tower. A mother should have time with her son. Like your companions, I feel you are to be trusted only in that your motherhood is true. If there is more to discover, time will show. Be with your son.” Helen’s face flushed with gratitude. The expression seemed odd seated there. “Leonaie Echelle and Corey Thomas—on the morrow, I will have questions. Please enjoy what hospitality Tiris Avu has to offer, but be prepared for my summons.

“Loche Newirth, Poet,” Loche can almost see the Queen’s green eyes studying his face. “Tomorrow you and Julia Iris will visit Wyn Avuqua, the city you have seen only in your mind’s eye —you will explore the tear that fell from Heaven. Listen to our poets and our musicians. See our homes and our works. Maybe then, Poet, you will find a way to deliver its beauty, and its people from doom.

“I shall now name you in the tongue of the Itonalya—I shall name you for the new world you herald by your coming here. I name you Aethur, son of William, Poet, and father of God.”

“The sun is shining,” Julia says. “I’d forgotten what that looks like.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Loche says.

Julia’s arms squeeze. “Are you ready to see the city?”

“Not just yet. I’d like to hold you for a while longer.”

“Good,” she whispers. “Good.”

A loud knock upon the chamber door startles them both. “My Lord, Aethur?” From the stone hall shouts an enthusiastic and friendly voice, “I have come to show you my home, Wyn Avuqua. A bright day has come and our time is short. The Queen has sent me as your servant.”

Loche rises. The air is brittle and freezing. He pulls a robe over his shoulders and opens the door to a dark eyed, dark skinned man. He wears the deep grey surcoat and green mantle like those of the Queen’s house, Tiris Avu. Upon his chest, embroidered in silver thread is the full body of a Heron. Circled around the symbol are many runes. The man is slightly shorter than Loche, but stout and seemingly immovable in both stature and his expression.

“I bid you, good morning,” he grins. “I am Teunwa. Let us take Dellithion’s light as a sign that the storm on our borders is but a passing breeze. And while His light shines, we may feel the delights that my home has to give.”