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Authors: Mae Ronan

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BOOK: Anna von Wessen
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She ripped the crimson curtain down from its rod – for never again would what lay behind it need to hide. Then she took the portrait of Ephram and Vyra from the wall, threw it out of the window, and hung Anna’s up in its place. She fell to her knees before it, and wept for long hours there.

“Damn these tears,” she cried, wiping madly at her face. “I see why Anna hated them so! Oh, why did they ever come?”

She fell silent, struggled to her feet, and stumbled to the portrait, where she kissed the life-sized likeness of Anna’s face. “Ah!” she sobbed. “But it isn’t you, Anna! It isn’t . . .”

She took up her sword from its place by the bed, and held it to her throat. “It’s easy enough,” she whispered. “And it’s all that’s left.”

She thought nothing more about it. She drew back the sword, and prepared to bring it cutting through the air – then her neck. She kissed the silver ring on her hand, and tightened her grip on the sword hilt.

But she was interrupted.

XLVI:

Before the End of All Things

 

S
he turned her tear-stained face towards a light which had started up near the window. At first she thought it to be the shifting sun; but was astonished to find a white-clad woman standing in her chamber. 

“Why all these tears,” asked the
white woman, “for someone you will see again?”

“Who are you?” Vaya demanded, turn
ing her sword towards the stranger.

But the woman laughed, and said, “You would do better to put that away. You’ll do me no harm with it.”

Vaya watched her in confusion.

“My name is Arolah
,” she went on. “My brother is Aurelus, who gave the Power to the Aurens all those years ago. He loved them – loves them still, for they have been united with him – and he comforted them as best he could, while they lived on earth. But somehow I became the guardian of the Lumaria. Not all of them, you understand – for most of them would not have me. I am one of the few, however, who has learnt to see their souls. Yours is the brightest I have ever witnessed.”

Vaya said nothing.

“You have fought the good fight,” said Arolah, “these last months of your life. But still there is work to be done.”

“What are you talking about?”

Arolah laughed. “You think this is the end? It will come soon enough – but not this day. There is more for you to do.”

Vaya’s expression had changed to one of astonishment. “Are you – are you what they call an angel?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you come to me?”

“To bring a message.”

“What message could you have
for
me?

Again the angel laughed. “And what is so amiss with you,” she said, “that you cannot hear what message I bring?”

“But – but what of all the years I lived wrong?”

“Your heart sought penance for them. Your Father has forgiven you.”

“My father is dead.”

Now a laugh louder than all
. “Not King Ephram! It pains me to tell you, Vaya Eleria, that you shan’t meet him again – not till the end.”

“It pains me not at all, I assure you.” She paused. “But what do you mean by the end?”

“The end of all earthly things,” answered the angel. “The time of judgment, when life is ended, and eternity begins.” She paused as if for thought, and contemplated Vaya for a moment. “The nearest you can come at present to understanding, I think,” she went on, “if in concept only – is by recalling a painting you saw only a little while ago in the Sistine Chapel. It is even named aptly. I mean, you know, that of the last judgment.”

“Do you mean Heaven?”

“Yes.”

“That – that is for me, too?”

Arolah looked at her carefully, and said, “For a long while you served the powers of evil which reign in this world. I know that evil well – for my own brother is its creator. I have not seen him since ancient times; but I think of him often. His true name is Férglag. But you know him by other names.” She smiled sadly, and added, “It was he who called your people forth from the fire.”

Vaya stared at her miserably.

“You shall remain here a while,” said Arolah. “There is more for you to do. Make this castle your own, and shield the Narken here. Long ago, when they were first born, I slayed their bodies myself, and took their souls to their Father. There were none of pure heart, back then. The beast within them blinded their eyes. Yet they have finally learnt to see! You know which I mean. Take them unto yourself, and protect them. They will have important work to do someday.”

“You and your work!” Vaya spat. “I don’t wish to stay! I want to be with Anna.”

“You will be,” said Arolah kindly. “One day. But that day is not today.”

“Then I will not do your bidding.”

“My bidding! Oh, no – not mine. But of course the choice is yours! If you wish to shun the path you’ve begun to follow, that is your right. But in doing so you shun your Father. And you shun Anna.”

“Never would I!”

“You would!” answered Arolah, for the first time in a very firm tone of voice. “You would do just that, if you turn back now. You think fifty, sixty years is long? Try eternity.”

Vaya said nothing; but Arolah sighed. “No one seems able to grasp the concept of eternity,” she said. “You Lumaria – you think you are immortal. But I shall tell you a secret. Even if you lived to the very last day of the world, still you would die. And if you had spent all that time living as your people seem to see no harm in doing, your death would be a terrible one. It would never end. Can you imagine eternity in flames? You would never grow immune; the pain would never cease. You were granted a great gift, you know, the last time you died. You were not sent to the place you deserved – but were merely allotted a long rest, wherein you knew nothing more than a sleeper knows of his bed. But next time – if you continue to err! Then the flames will come, you know. And even Férglag fears them. He was once cast into them, you see, for many years.”

Suddenly Vaya recalled Anna’s own words, the night after her fight with Filipovic, when Vaya found her on the heath.

“Do you see the flames?”

“You shall be the prophet of your people,” said Arolah. “Be proud! There have been no prophets for a long while. Speak the truth; and gather to yourself all those who believe.”

Vaya hung her head, and began to weep. It was clear that Arolah took pity on her.

“There is no need, my dear,” she said. “Have you ever wept for work before?”

“This is not the same,” Vaya argued quietly.

“Not the same! Of course it’s the same. You remember, my dear, at the Weld – when the battle was looming, and you volunteered yourself to find Wolach? Anna did not want to part with you; but you comforted her with your courage. Be courageous now! I assure you, Anna needs no more comforting where she is.”

Reluctantly, Vaya looked up. “She – she is well?”

“She is very well!” said Arolah. “She is with her Father. She looks down upon you this very moment – and though she may miss you terribly, she does not weep. She has faith in your heart, and knows you will be together again.”

Vaya looked all around. She glanced towards the window, and then up at the dark ceiling. “She sees me?” she asked.

“She sees you perfectly. Doubtless she will watch you always, till your time on earth is done. But that time is not up, dear girl!”

Arolah came forward, and laid a hand, which seemed almost to shimmer, upon Vaya’s shoulder. “I can see your soul,” she said. “And it is a beautiful one! You always wondered what this heart was for?”

She moved her hand to Vaya’s silent chest. Vaya started, and fell back with a sharp cry, as there ran a strange sensation all through her.

“To make this time more bearable,” said Arolah, “I have been asked to give you this gift. Feel the breath of life, Vaya Eleria! Your body will remain young, and strong for the journey ahead – but now you are quite as alive as any human has ever felt himself to be.”

Stunned, Vaya pressed a hand to her breast – and felt her heart beat there. She was filled suddenly with warmth, warmth much like that she had felt, the night she was freed from the Aera. Much like that of Anna’s own skin.

“Take care of that blood in your veins,” said Arolah. “It is a precious thing.”

And with that, she was gone. Again Vaya found herself alone. If she had wished it, perhaps she could even have convinced herself that none of it had really happened. But she felt that she knew better.

Fifty-Four Years Later

 

W
e repeat: fifty-four years. All this time, Vaya fought against the Lumaria, and called to her what Narken wished for a different path of life. In short, she did all that Arolah had asked of her, and more. She became, if you can comprehend it, a different person entirely. Though she thought of her, every moment of every day, and longed always to see her face – still she learnt to live for something, something besides Anna. It took her many years to understand, but finally she did, that she could never have loved Anna at all, if there were not much more to the world than she had thought. There had been something, even all that time ago, which made her more than she might have been; which made her more than evil, and more than a Lumarian. It was on the day Arolah came that she began to grasp the greatness of the fact – and a long time later, that she could finally say she had learnt the truth.

The earth, in that half-century, became filled with terrible war, famine, hatred and horror. By the year 2066, there seemed no scrap of good left to life. Sons turned on their fathers, and mothers turned on their daughters, till there was no trust to be found. People did whatever they thought was required of them, simply to survive. And to survive, in those days – well, it began to appear as if there were only one who could grant such a gift. So the people turned to the One Who Makes False Promises, and placed all their faith in him. Meanwhile faith in He Who Keeps Every Promise was dwindling. There were hardly any who had the courage to turn to Him.

But against that, too, Vaya fought. By that time He had lived long in her heart, and He spoke to her, just as she spoke to Him. She prayed to Him for strength, and it was granted – just as it would have been granted, to anyone else who had asked Him. She fought what battles He led her to, and came away with the victories He provided. She came to be named the Warrior of Heaven, and just as she had called the Narken, she rallied to her every lost and broken soul who was desperate for aid. With them she formed a small empire, whose heart was planted in the city of Rome. By that time, the last ally left to her from the old days was Nessa; but she was cut down by insurgents, very shortly after the founding of the empire. Strong as always, she lingered for many days. Finally though, one warm night while Vaya sat watching beside her bed, her aching breath ceased, and she went to join Cassie, who had died five years before.

There was but one great church within the empire, where the people gathered together in fellowship and prayer. Every heart was as one. It was the only place within the darkness of the earth’s surface, where there was no division, and no enmity. The citizens of God’s Empire fought for the same thing, every day, against anyone who would challenge them. The armies of the Black One pushed against them on all sides. It began to seem uncertain how they should keep on with their mission; but they did not fear. They knew that the answer would come.

One night during this time, while she lay sleeping fitfully in her bed, Vaya had a dream. The dream was in the form of a vision: a vision that the time to depart had drawn nigh. She saw fires on all hands, and horrid creatures of darkness sent directly from the Black One’s dominions. There were Lumaria amongst them, and Narken too – but not only, oh no, not all. Marching with them were the beasts of story and fable, the monsters and terrors which mothers assure their children do not exist. But they did exist – and they were about to be unleashed.

Yet amidst all this darkness and flame was a spot of light. It was light perfectly white, beautifully bright, and filled with hope. Vaya woke at its coming; and sat upright in her bed, looking all about her confusedly.

She doubted the significance of this dream not at all, and viewed it as no less than the prophecy for which she had been waiting so long. She went about her business that day, just as she always did; but at dusk, instead of retiring, she sat up by the window in her chamber. Night began to fall, and thousands of brilliant lights shone out across the great city. It seemed, indeed, as if there were no rampage of death and destruction outside its high, strong walls. It was almost easy to imagine that these four-and-fifty years had never passed. Truly, a feeling of soft peace came down then to settle over Vaya’s shoulder’s, taking with it the heavy cloak of weariness and toil she had worn so long.

Suddenly there appeared another light – even brighter than those of the city – in the corner of her eye, which announced that someone had arrived in the room behind her. She closed her eyes tightly, and drew a shaking breath.

“Tell me,” she whispered, “that that is my Anna – and not only an angel come to bring me the message.”

“I suppose you could say it is both.”

Vaya turned slowly round – and saw Anna there, standing with a beautiful smile, and looking nothing different from the last day Vaya saw her, more than fifty years ago. The shimmering light all around her, which Arolah had brought too when she came, began quickly to dim. She planted her feet more firmly upon the surface of earth than that latter had done; for it was there that her heart had lived all these years, somewhat separate from herself. The light of Heaven caressed her cheek with loving fingers, but drew back patiently to await her, as she went forward towards Vaya.

“You have built your house, I see,” she said, “in the place where we took our last rest together.”

Vaya could not speak. Her hand was fastened over her mouth, and she watched Anna with trembling limbs.

For a moment more they kept to their places at a little distance from one another, almost as if they believed the space to be insurmountable; but quite suddenly their eyes flashed, like twin pairs of lightning bolts, and they flew into each other’s arms.

“Oh, Anna!” Vaya cried, with her face pressed fast to Anna’s neck. “It – it
is
you! Oh, you even smell the same!”

“Of course it’s me! What other could it have been?”

“It’s only – it’s only been so long . . .”

“Not so long!” rejoined Anna, as she tilted Vaya’s face to kiss it. “Not so long, really – when now we have forever.”

She led Vaya to the bed, and they sat down together. Their foreheads touched, and their hands were clasped as in days of old.

“There are many people,” said Anna cheerfully, “who wait for you. Clyde and Greyson want very much to see you! They wished for me to tell you that their deaths at the battle in Berlin were not your fault – as you have mistakenly thought all these years. Doubtless my father will want to press your hand, too. And, oh! I will introduce you to my mother. And your mother.” She smiled. “Would you like to meet her?”

Vaya looked wonderingly into her face. “My – my mother?” she repeated.

“Not Vyra Iyenov, to be sure! You would find her, now, in a far less pleasant place. I mean Clarisa Bartoli!”

“Then she does not hate me?”

“Hate you! Of course she doesn’t hate you. She is your mother, after all.”

Vaya was silent, then. But Anna kissed her cheek, and went on.

“We have formed quite a band since I saw you last! You will see Xeros, and Leventh and Griel; Balkyr and Dahro, too, all of them quite proud of you, and wanting very much to commend you on your work. Nessa says she has not a disparaging word for all your efforts; and that her only regret, is that she could not fight with you longer. And then, what once was little Tirymus, who has grown into a fine angel – would you like to see him? Krestyin has looked after him well, you may be sure.”

Still Vaya could scarcely answer for the joy which had taken hold of her heart. But Anna could feel it just the same; and laid her hand over Vaya’s chest.

“Oh, your heart!” she exclaimed. “I knew I should feel it beat one day! Just look at you, Vaya! A pumping heart; warm blood in your veins; beautiful tears streaming from your eyes! Oh, how I’ve dreamt of it!”

They sat quiet for a little, merely holding to one another. Their hearts beat one against the other, and their tears ran together to drip over their hands. But finally Anna turned Vaya’s head gently towards the window, and said, “The time has come, it seems. The world you see before you –” (she gestured with one hand to the sprawling city) “– will not be as it is for long. The end is here. Not the end of
all
things, as I remember you once said – but the end of
these
things. There are some things that will never end. To those things I will take you! You are coming home.”

Vaya looked out into the darkness with a thoughtful countenance. “Should I go, then,” she asked, “and tell my people?”

“Oh, no,” said Anna. “The others will come for them! Any moment now, they will descend. Those brave people shall need your help no longer, I promise! You needn’t fear for them.”

Vaya sank against Anna in relief, and laughed with more happiness than perhaps she had ever known.

“You remember,” said Anna, “when we tossed the coins into the fountain? They would assure us a return to Rome, you said. Well, it did not turn out just as we had thought – but here we are, together again! Are you ready, my Warrior of Heaven, to come home?”

Vaya nodded wordlessly, and clutched Anna’s hand. Anna walked with her to the place where the light was waiting; and they entered into it, as if it were a curtain of mist. So they went out of the earthly world; out of the story which has been written; and into that which has yet to be told.

 

 

 

 

 

THE END.

 

 

BOOK: Anna von Wessen
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