The Guardian's Path

Kalissa tried to remain alert as Witness Halidan spoke. Despite her best efforts, her eyelids began to droop, her head started to fall, and she almost toppled straight forward in the pew. Then she jerked awake, embarrassed, and the fight for wakefulness began again.

It wasn’t the Witness’s fault. He was a kindly, amiable old man with a soft but strong voice and a treasure trove worth of wisdom between his ears. Kalissa just hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days. Between planning and organizing the hit on Listanel and cleaning up after that bungled raid in the Outroots, there had been precious little time for rest.

“Our Guardian Angels have kept and preserved us in this time of bloodshed,” Halidan said, raising his feeble, bony arms upwards as if holding something above his head. “Praise be to the Heavens. Always remember the source of your blessings and your protection.”

He bowed his head, and everyone in the congregation followed. Kalissa did as well, but didn’t dare close her eyes for fear of drifting off.

After the minute of silent prayer passed, she stood to move towards the door. Someone was already pushing it open, a tall figure with a strong face and broad shoulders. His blond hair had grown long enough that it was beginning to curl. His deep brown eyes met hers, and she immediately knew something was wrong.

Ignoring propriety and reverence, she pushed her way to the back of the congregation. No one complained. At least, not after they saw her face. Or more accurately, her head, where a thin silver circlet rested, studded with various cuts of diamond.

“What is it, Abheiran?” she asked, softly but intently.

He pursed his lips tightly, inclining his head towards the door. The motion said, Not here. She nodded once and followed him out, keeping her face composed despite her concern.

They walked across a thick lawn of spongy blue moss that nearly reached their ankles. People parted way for them, most of them with slight bows and ducked heads. Technically, the only thing anyone was supposed to pay deference to on the day of worship was Fao, the Spirit of Heaven. But people, by nature, had trouble worshiping the Deity they had never seen when a tangible god stood before them, even a lesser one. And Kalissa was a god, of sorts. She was the ordained protectorate and ultimate ruler of the land, gifted to become a Guardian Angel over her people upon her passing. Anyone could become a Guardian Angel, but only the Ultimate could protect more than one person. She would have charge over the entire nation. Even the rebels.

Speaking of which…

“What is this about, Abheiran?” she asked softly. They were far enough away from the rest of the congregants not to be overheard. “Is it Raphan again? I thought quelling Listanel would quiet them, but-”

He was shaking his head. “No, Liz, it’s not that.”

“What, then?”

He met her gaze somberly, and something in his eyes made her certain she didn’t want to hear what he was about to say.

“It’s about the Outroots.”

She sucked in a breath. The Outroots. Supposedly a group of hidden weapon storehouses, but their information had been wrong. Only after the smoke cleared and the fire was out did they discover their mistake.

Some of those warehouses had indeed stored supplies, but not weapons. Medical equipment. And the main building…it had been a hospital. Hundreds of people were killed, likely some civilians amongst the wounded soldiers and hospital staff. Kalissa had sent a team out to identify what was left of the bodies.

“Well?” she asked, refusing to break his gaze despite the shame welling up inside of her.

“One of the bodies-” his voice broke off and he looked to the side. “Oh, Fao, Liz. I’m so sorry.”

“What?” she demanded.

He said a name.

Kalissa felt the world freeze around her.

***

Leithia did not know what to think when she looked down and found that she couldn’t see her legs. Or her hand when she tried to hold it in front of her face. She couldn’t feel her face when she tried to touch it. Or the ground beneath her. She felt as though she could turn her head. Or at least, she could shift her attention so that she was looking at different things. But she couldn’t interact. She could still hear, but her sense of smell was gone. Otherwise she suspected she would’ve smelled smoke and scorched flesh.

She tried to call out, but found she had no voice. In fact, although she felt like she was breathing, she couldn’t hear any sound when she tried to exhale forcefully.

She would’ve put her hands on her hips if she’d had hands. Or hips. She had to think this through. What was the last thing she remembered? She’d been on her way to one of the hospitals to offer morale to the few surviving soldiers from the massacre in Listanel. No, that was wrong. She’d arrived in the hospital, hadn’t she? Yes. She’d been listening to stories and taking reports from the few surviving captains.

And now she was looking out at a scorched mass of rubble. She saw a few blackened lumps that looked vaguely human in form. Other corpses had been partially protected from whatever had flayed their companions by furniture or walls. They lay in crumpled heaps, skin blackened in spots but flesh toned in others. It was a disturbing contrast. One figure looked like they had been trying to drag their useless legs behind them to escape. They had probably asphyxiated.

Now other people were moving among them, ones not burned or injured. They carefully sorted through the bodies, turning them over and gently lining them up. They wore grey uniforms with maroon buttons up the front and the stylized FAO insignia over the right breast. What were they doing here?

A man nearby-he looked vaguely familiar-turned over a body. The right side of the face had been scorched, but the left side, which had been pressed against the stone, was remarkably untouched. The man immediately fell still, head bowing.

Leithia just felt…numb. Or that was closest she could come to describing it. It was as if she had seen something so horrid, so mind-numbingly incomprehensible, that her brain had simply shut down.

So she just watched, unable to move or even think, while her own corpse was dragged away and placed in a line with the others.

***

The corpses had long since been removed, the fires and hot coals stamped out, and the workers retired. Leithia still did not move. A distant part of her kept hoping she would wake up from this awful nightmare, but she knew the truth.

She was dead. Acris’s Shadow, she had died.

“Usually, it takes much longer for a person to accept that. I’m rather impressed at your self-awareness.”

Leithia tried to spin towards the voice, but her body-well, whatever she had now-moved lethargically, like she was floating on a soft breeze. A medium-height man stood behind her. His skin glowed faintly, enough that she had trouble distinguishing his features. She thought his hair was blonde, and his eyes glowed too, almost as if they were made of light. It was unnerving, yet mesmerizing.

She would have knelt, but she still couldn’t properly control her amorphous form. Crypts, she couldn’t even see herself.

“Calm yourself,” the man said, smiling. The glow in his eyes faded enough that she could make out irises. That relaxed her, slightly.

“Who are you?” she tried to say. Nothing came out.

“I am a messenger,” he said. She started. Had he responded to her thoughts? Or was he merely introducing himself?

“Yes, I can sense your mind. You have not been dead long enough to form a spiritual presence. Right now, you are nothing but a consciousness. Once your essence is gathered, it will be somewhat like a body for you. At that time, you will be able to speak, and your thoughts will no longer be open to me or anyone else.”

How long will that take? she wondered, uncomfortable.

He waved. “It begins already. You are one of the faster ones.”

She could sense something happening. She started to feel more present, not solid, but more in control. After a few excruciating minutes, she could look down at herself and make out a transparent image of her body, wearing the same militaristic pants and jacket she’d died in. Slowly, her form solidified until it was only vaguely translucent. When she tried to touch herself, she couldn’t feel anything. Her hand didn’t pass through, but her skin felt no sensation upon contact.

“I can no longer hear your mind,” the man said, causing her to jump slightly. She’d somehow almost forgotten he was there. “That means you can speak now.”

“Where am I?” she demanded, the words gushing out of her. “Is this the Courtyard? Are you here to lead me to the Guardian’s Path?”

He smiled, somehow conveying both pity and amusement in that simple expression. “Yes, I am.”

She felt a sudden surge of awe. All along, then, her faith had been correct. She had believed, yes, but there had always been that little part of her that wondered. There were hundreds of beliefs, some quite contradictory, about the afterlife. How could she know for certain what was true? But here she was, standing face to face with proof.

“I am ready to serve, Holy Guide,” she said, bowing. “I will return to protect my people in their time of need, as is my duty.”

His face softened. Although he still looked young, early twenties perhaps, his expression took on a fatherly cast.

“You will return to protect,” he agreed. “But you do not get to choose whom.”

She frowned. She wasn’t choosing. She was doing as Fao commanded of all rulers. Protect their people, even in death.

“Your people are correct in many ways,” the man said gently. “Upon death, most everyone is sent back for a short time as a Guardian Angel. However, they have never stopped to ask the most important question."

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Why?”

***

Why. Apparently, he wasn’t going to tell her. Leisha stared with a mixture of despair and disgust at the scene before her. Surely this was a joke?

“What if I refuse?” she asked. The messenger shrugged at her side.

“Then you will forever remain in stasis, stuck in this in-between realm.”

“But why?” she demanded. “I spent the past ten years fighting that crypted woman.”

“That is an excellent question. I encourage you to consider it carefully.”

She growled softly in the back of her throat, trying to come up with a proper rebuttal. Before she could, however, the man simply vanished. She blinked, surprised, and then turned her attention back to the small crowd of people before her. She studied one in particular. Tall, slender, with long hair such a dark blue it could look black unless caught in the right light. Kalissa wore no crown, just a simple ornamentation that rested on her forehead. She needed no crown. Her blazing amber eyes were enough to freeze you in place. Today, they were red from crying.

She always could put on a good show, Leisha thought bitterly. She folded her arms. It was harder than expected, what with not being able to actually feel her own body. She had to watch herself do it to judge that her arms were moving as directed.

She would not Guard this woman. If that meant remaining forever in exile from the realms of men and gods, then so be it.

***

Kalissa went through the motions, hoping that no one noticed her despair. She said the proper words to send off the souls of the dead to the Guardian’s Path. She gave a brief speech about how they, in their own misguided way, were only doing what they thought was correct. She begged forgiveness and compassion. Her people only fought to protect their people, their land, and their way of life. They did not fight for glory or because they wanted to cause suffering.

She made it all the way through without crying. She had been crying before. Anyone who got too close would probably be able to tell. Fortunately, not many people felt comfortable approaching the Queen.

Eventually, the people dispersed. Kalissa was left with a few guards standing before the monument. Gardu, the master sculptor, had done his work well. The statue was crafted from marble, depicting flames reaching to the heavens, the vague shapes of people stretching upward as if being pulled by some invisible force. In the front, one figure was distinct and crisp, flames dancing at her feet. She wore the attire of a soldier, a sword held at her side, as she stared out into the distance, her lips pursed in a look of determination. Crypts, Gardu had even captured how little wisps of her hair escaped her braid and framed her face, making her seem younger than her twenty-seven years.

“Oh, Lee,” Kalissa whispered, reaching out and touching the statue’s hand. “I’m sorry. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

She bowed her head in shame at the inadequate words. With a final muttered prayer, she turned away.

With their leader gone, killed in such a brutal manner, many of the rebels were rallying. Cries of injustice could be heard throughout the kingdom, and Kalissa couldn’t dispute those accusations. It had been an accident, but the Outroots tragedy was on her head.

Still, the rebels had to be stopped. She had made a mistake. Now she had to live with it.

***

Leithia followed the Queen, alternately sneering in derision and fuming in rage. Kalissa was determined to destroy Leithia’s people, and yet she acted the part of the benevolent mother. She pretended to have compassion, all the while slaughtering anyone who disagreed with her.

Well, it wouldn’t matter for long. Leithia smiled to herself, a harsh, cold expression. She had put a contingency plan into place long ago in case something like this ever happened and Leithia could no longer lead her people. Now, she could see that her confidants were doing their work well, spreading the tales of corruption, murder, and deception to the people. They were rising up. Kalissa’s army would be required to employ all of their strength to stop the outbursts. The enraged people would be slaughtered, which would only make the fires of rebellion burn brighter. And it would leave Kalissa exposed.

That’s where Alekhi would come in.

***

“Place troops outside of Covenholt,” Kalissa said, pointing to a spot on the map. “Only engage if engaged. These people are angry, which makes them dangerous. But they have not been part of the rebellion long enough to be equipped properly for war. I will not have my soldiers slaughtering civilians, no matter how insubordinate.”

“Of course,” Abheiran said. “And what of Whiting?”

Kalissa grimaced. “They have been terrorizing nearby villages, taking supplies and causing havoc. They have ignored all attempts at diplomacy. Send a contingency of soldiers to guard the roadways between villages out there for now. We will need some time to gather some soldiers from Listanel and Raphan. Maybe with a large enough show of force, we can quell Whiting without bloodshed.”

Abheiran didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “It will be done.”

It had been three weeks since that horrid raid. The rebels were angry, restless, and acting out worse than ever. They were acting more recklessly than usual, attacking royal supply chains and caravans. It was frustrating. It seemed that, without Leithia, the dissidents had only become more dangerous. They had morphed from an organized resistance into an angry mob. Organized, rational people could be reasoned with and subdued. But angry people tended to keep fighting even when it was impossible to win. Often, the only way to stop them was to kill them or incapacitate them so badly as to ruin their ability to fight back.

Oh, Leithia, do you realize what you have done? Kalissa thought, anguished. Do you realize how many lives your pride will claim?

But then, perhaps Kalissa was no better. Maybe she could have avoided all of this death if she had merely allowed the rebels their own lands and rulers, instead of stubbornly insisting on holding the kingdom together.

No, Kalissa thought. No, Leithia would not have been satisfied with that. She would have wanted more. We never would have had peace until one of us was subjected to the other.

***

Leithia found herself more and more dissatisfied. Kalissa was as good an actress as ever, but…well, could anyone really be acting all the time? Kalissa never seemed to show her true face, that of the dictator clinging to power, not even to her closest confidants.

More disturbingly, Leithia realized that Kalissa acted more upset about the deaths of the insurgents than Leithia felt. She had always seen their sacrifices as noble and honorable, and each death drove the rest of her people to a greater rage. That made them fight harder, grow stronger in their convictions. Never before had she wondered if the prize was worth the cost.

Kalissa worked so hard to avoid killing her enemies. But of course, a dictator couldn’t simply kill all of their subjects. Who would be left to lord over?

Leithia sat petulantly, watching her sister scheme. A man stepped right through her foot. She felt nothing. She still didn’t understand why she didn’t sink through the floor, yet if a person touched her, they passed through.

Leithia forced herself to focus. They were in a command tent outside of Whiting, a city that refused to bend. Leithia was proud of them.

“We need a show of force,” one of the Captains, Hazin, said. “We have allowed this city to go unpunished for too long. Showing mercy is admirable, of course, but there is a point at which it simply looks weak.”

Leithia smiled to herself. This was it. The turning point, the time when Kalissa would show her true colors.

“They have no chance against us, Captain,” Kalissa said. “A show of force is the same thing as a massacre, in this case.”

“We do not have the time, resources, or soldiers to maintain an indefinite siege on such a large city,” Hazin said.

Kalissa squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “I know.”

Here it comes, Leitha thought. The reluctant acceptance of the ‘inevitable’. Leithia had checked earlier that day. Alekhi was already in place and would be moving soon. They all knew that the attack on the city was coming today, both the Royals and the Rebels. Alekhi would ensure that the Rebels won the war, no matter the outcome of the battle.

Kalissa tapped the table in front of her with one finger, looking anguished. So convincing, Leithia thought, sneering.

Then Kalissa’s face hardened, her lips pulling to a line. She drew herself up to full height, eyes forward as if looking through the tent towards the city.

This was the moment. The moment the monster would reveal itself.

“No.”

The time for battle had come. It-wait. What had she said?

“We will not attack this city,” Kalissa said. “Send a message via bird. Hopefully they won’t shoot down the crypted thing. Tell them that we will let them be, but only if they agree to stop terrorizing the other villages. Anyone caught stealing or causing trouble will be executed on sight. As long as they remain in their city, they can do as they please. Once they leave, they are in my power, and will follow my laws.”

The tent fell silent. Leithia gaped, eyes wide in shock.

“Go,” Kalissa said, gesturing impatiently. “Abheiran, sent the bird. The rest of you, go spread the word. We are pulling out.”

“Perhaps a few of us should remain-” Abheiran began. A sharp look from Kalissa quelled him.

“I would like to be alone for a moment. All of you, do as I said.”

No, Leithia thought numbly. Wait. You can’t send all your protection away. That-that-

That was part of the plan, wasn’t it? She put a hand to the side of her head, reeling. The tent emptied, leaving Kalissa to lean forward, hands pressed to the table.

“Oh, sister,” Kalissa whispered. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Leitha stepped forward. Kalissa hadn’t attacked. She-she had decided to retreat.

“I just don’t know, Lee,” Kalissa repeated.

“Me either,” Leitha whispered.

***

Kalissa straightened, a strange tingling on the back of her neck snapping her out of her thoughts. She felt suddenly nervous, alert. She spun. She was alone. That should have relaxed her, but instead the tension inside only increased. It made her want to run, grab a weapon, find a place to hide. She reached into her boot, slipping out the knife she concealed there. Leithia could get away with carrying a sword, but not Kalissa. Still, she found it wise to always be armed.

Go. The thought was so powerful that Kalissa didn’t even question it. She started towards the front of the tent, but a surge of overwhelming anxiety stopped her in place. She spun, rushing to the back of the tent and slicing a slit in the canvas with her knife. She ran out her makeshift door. The area behind her tent was shockingly empty. She could see a few distant soldiers, all making preparations to withdraw. But no one was near enough to notice that she had just defaced her command tent. That was decidedly unusual.

Then she heard a soft sound from behind her. It sounded like…cursing?

Go!

She started to run. A moment later, she heard the sound of canvas ripping. She glanced over her shoulder in time to glimpse an enormous man dressed in all black, carrying a scythe.

She screamed. Still running, she cried for help. Distant soldiers began to run for her. Would they arrive soon enough?

The sounds of pursuit behind her changed to a thump and more curses. She looked back again. The man seemed to have tripped over something.

Praise the Angels, she thought. The reprieve allowed her to escape and the soldiers to arrive. The man in black surrendered as he was surrounded. He was bound, gagged, and placed in a wagon for interrogation.

***

Leithia was exhausted, yet somehow energized. She had spent weeks traveling with Kalissa, whispering peace to her followers. She couldn’t do much directly, but she did know these people. She knew the right ones to speak to, which emotions to focus on, and just where to push. Slowly, the anger was fading. Tedious truces were formed.

Leithia watched Kalissa as she wrote another contract with a dissident city. “You know,” Leithia said, even though Kalissa couldn’t hear her. “I still think you’re arrogant. You think that your way is always the best way.” She paused, grimacing. “I guess, this time, you were right. In the end, you cared more about my people than I did. Thank you, sister. Thank you for saving them.”

Kalissa paused in her writing, cocking her head. Then she looked up. Strangely, a tear rolled down her cheek. “Thank you, sister,” she whispered. “For saving me.”

Leithia stood still, surprised.

“I know it is you, my Guardian. I don’t know why you’ve helped me. But thank you.”

Leitha smiled.

And the world…faded.

She found herself standing before that same messenger. He smiled.

“Did you figure it out?” he asked.

She sighed, nodding. “The Guardian’s Path is penance, isn’t it? A way to reconcile and make up for the wrongs we’ve done.”

He nodded. “Yes. And you have done well, Leithia. Are you ready to go home?”

She let out a long, relieved breath. “Yes. Yes, I think I would like that very much.”