Following Fate’s Kiss

By: Rebecca Anne “Sinead” Fahey-Leigh

Chapter Seven:

Secrets and Citadels

            “How are you still alive?” I asked an hour later as she helped me set Qyriian Hrutan’s wings with the leg-bones that had been carefully split in half lengthwise.

            She smiled. “Daughter, please understand that there are things that cannot be told to you. This is one of them. I cannot tell you unless you find out for yourself.”

            “I understand,” I replied. “But . . . don’t you have a mate? Blue Steel?”

            Ice Eyes nodded, her eyes now angry, glimmering gems. “He’s still with them. They find it so simply amazing and enthralling how they can break our wings over and over, yet we will always heal almost instantaneously, before their eyes. It’s all a part of being immortal.”

            “So if ye are immortal, then what ’bout Fireheart an’ Waterwing?” Qyriian asked, cracking the bones between his teeth and sucking the marrow out thoughtfully.

            “Yes, my son, they still live. They were Awakened by their own minds, thus they have no Awakener as their descendants do. I do not know if they will ever return to Maverick ever again?”

            “Maverick?” I asked.

            “Ah. That’s right. The name shortened over time to Mavrik. That was the old way of saying the country’s name. I’m sorry.”

            “No, no,” I replied, laughing for the first time since we had been captured, “that’s fine! I’m curious, though. Were my human ancestors almost like what I am? Not a rightly a thief-spy or a hunter, or a warrior or a healer?”

            “Similar, yes. But not like you. The traits that you are in possession of are the results of instincts being trained and created for over two millennia. Each clan has their separate use, and that it what has kept your country running over the past seven generations. Other countries do not understand the balance that our country has. They do not see how the Gyrkin fit into the monarchy since they’re known to want virgins. But that is only a small percentile of them. Or it was, before I had left Mavrik to look for Fireheart and Waterwing.”

            “When did ye leave, Mam?” Hrutan asked.

            He yelped as we moved to set the next part of his wing. Instantly, I went to his face and embraced it, bowing my head and whispering, “I’m sorry.”

            “A-aye, darlin’. Aye. It’s fine. Only hurts.”

            “I know. Forgive me.”

            “Nay, assassin. There’s nuthin’ t’ forgive,” he replied, smiling. “But once ye’re done wi’ me wing, could ye massage me bad ankle?”

            Ice Eyes laughed openly. “You’re the one who should be doing the doting! Your wife’s pregnant!”

            “Aye, Mam, but I canna get t’ me Higher Form wi’ me broken wings.”

            She reached forward to ruffle his ears as she would to a cub. “Aye, m’boy, I know. You’ll still heal fast, but you have to remember that you won’t be able to fly for a time yet.”

            “I’m grateful tha’ I’ll be able t’ fly at all.”

            I put a bit more of the numbing agent upon Qyriian’s wing. He sighed. “Aah, m’luv. Aye. Try it again, iffn ye please.”

            “This is the last bone to set,” Ice Eyes said. “And then you can sleep.”

            “Thank ye, Mam.”

            “You swear by my name, but you won’t call me by it to my face. Interesting how my children react these days.”

            “S’ me callin’ ye by ‘Mam’ ain’t enough?”

            “Oh. By ‘mother’?”

            “Aye.”

            “Oh. That’s fine, then.”

            I chuckled again, then tied the strips from my cloak around the bone and Qyriian’s wing firmly. He winced once, then went about finding a bone that still had marrow within it. I kicked an untouched one closer to his paw without really looking, hearing him belch and thank me heartily for the distraction while we finished setting the wing-bone.

            The door opened again, and another Higher Form Gyrkin was brought in. Ice Eyes went immediately to her mate, whispering something. He looked up wearily, then, with a groan, opened his wings. Wet snapping and popping nearly caused me to lose what I had eaten, but I was just as interested in watching as muscle and bone shifted themselves into where they should be. He sighed, sitting back. “That . . . that blasted, no-good, cod–”

            “Please, no more. I’ve heard it all before,” Ice Eyes whispered, inching closer to her mate. “And we have two children with us.”

            He looked up at myself and Qyriian, then sniffed. “By . . . well.” He nodded respectfully. “Congratulations upon your child, lad.”

            Qyriian nodded his thanks as Blue Steel looked to me. I was still watching his wings. They weren’t the pure white that Qyriian had, but . . . they were more grey-blue-hued. Like the color of a perfect steel sword when it’s folded by a master and held out under direct sunlight.

            “And missie . . .”

            I looked at him. “Sir?”

            “Call me Blue or Steel. The love of my life only calls me by both, and that’s when she’s angry.”

            “Blue Steel!” she rebuked.

            “See? Anyway, I’ve heard what you’re trying to do for my people.”

            “My people as well, Steel. One of my grandfathers, seven generations back maternally, was Gyrkin.”

            “Hah!” Ice Eyes said, sitting. “Knew I smelled something familiar about you!”

            Blue Steel chuckled and sat back. “So. Now that we’re all imprisoned in here together, maybe you two can tell me what has been going on in the recent history of our country. Unfortunately, I’ve been neglecting a lot of what’s being said and done.”

            Making ourselves comfortable, we started.

            “Hoi. Missie.”

            I opened my eyes, seeing Blue Steel above my face, his blue eyes worried. “Are you all right? Is something the matter?”

            “What?”

            “You were having a nightmare. Your husband is so exhausted he slept through your yelling, but my love and I heard you.”

            I sighed, sitting up. His hand rested upon my shoulder. I couldn’t look at him. “I always get a feeling with something goes wrong. I just know that something has or will go wrong. I had that feeling the night Qyriian and I were captured.”

            “Do you have it now?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Not good,” Ice Eyes whispered. “You’re of the Forgotten Line, correct?”

            I nodded my assent.

            “That’s more than just a human term. It’s Gyrkin as well. Forgotten Line was almost like a human Clan, only made up of a certain kind of Gyrkin. They were the advisors to the Gyrkin leaders, helping them feel out what would be the wisest choice or decision to make.” She came closer, then sat in front of me, resting her hand lightly upon my abdomen, eyes losing focus for a moment. She pulled her hand away. “Usually, only the males in Forgotten Line could sense disaster.”

            “Why not females?”

            “The stress it presses upon the body is not usually good for childbearing. Tell us what is wrong.”

            “I don’t know.”

            “You do. You know what it is. You dreamt it.”

            “How can I remember a dream that buries itself in my mind?” I asked. “I’ve tried before. I can’t recall most of my dreams.”

            Blue Steel stood and awoke Qyriian softly, bringing him over. Instantly, my husband pulled me into an embrace, sighing through my hair. “They’re right. I smell fear off o’ ye, darlin’.”

            “But what am I fearing? What happened?”

            Qyriian looked at my eyes. “I dinnae . . . but I don’t get a gran’ feelin’ offa it.”

            Ice Eyes walked to the door of the cell we were in, looking through the bars. It opened suddenly, admitting in a small legion of soldiers. Some looked startled to see Qyriian’s wings splinted, but they generally watched the other two Gyrkin warily. The officer who was half Xaqtha walked in, looking to me and my husband. “You two are coming with me.”

            “What about them?” I asked.

            “They’re not under my juristiction.”

            “Aye,” Qyriian growled, standing. “They’re above it. Let ’em go. Give th’ Gyr-skins back t’ them.”

            “I don’t know where they are.”

            Blue Steel sighed, looking at his hands. He didn’t want the hands he sported. He wanted hand-like paws that could tear though skin and bone like paper. He wanted his fur around him and a tail to steady his flight.

            I looked back at the officer. He sighed. “Look, I have orders to bring you and Hrutan to the chamber.”

            Ice Eyes immediately sprung and landed between myself and the officers. “She’s carrying a child! I will not allow you to touch her!”

            “She’s . . . what?” the officer breathed.

            “You heard her,” Blue Steel growled. “The Queen Harmony is pregnant.”

            One of the unit shook his head. “I’m not endangering that child. I . . . sir, I . . .”

            Another one scoffed. “It’s hardly even a child. Who cares if she loses it at this stage? It’s not like–”

            His head suddenly was not there, as his body tumbled to the ground.

            Qyriian’s eyes glimmered blood-red at intervals as he scraped the blood off of his right paw onto the floor of the cell. “Any’un else want t’ endanger me child?”

            “He was the only one who wasn’t of Mavrik descent. He didn’t understand how long we’ve waited for a monarch to rise back up onto the throne,” another soldier said, green-brown eyes mournful.

            One of the unit peeked out the door, then looked back in. “Clear, sir.”

            He ripped the uniform tunic off, revealing black clothing underneath. He grinned. “Farthorn the Assassin, leader of any and all Mavrik assassins, is ready at your service.”

            “Lineage?” I asked, taking a darker and what seemed to be warmer cloak from one of the unit.

            “Xaqtha and Harutha. The same with my unit. We’ve been trying to figure out how to get these Gyrkin out of this dump for over a year.”

            I looked to Ice Eyes and Blue Steel. The male sighed gustily. “I want my skin.”

            “We’ll get it.”

            “Now, cub, before I wreak havoc upon this miserable place.” The level, evil tone of his voice caused one of the assassins to grab the man next to him, still placing the veil around his face to prevent recognition, and left the room. Blue Steel nodded. “Better. Now. If you have anything warmer for the Queen . . . ?”

            “That’s the warmest wool cloak that we have.”

            “I don’t feel the cold,” Ice Eyes said. “She can wrap my skin around her.”

            “Not many Gyrkin females reach their Higher Form, though,” I replied. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

            She smirked. “Riian, what have you been told about the Higher Form?”

            “That a male Gyrkin becomes it when he falls in love with a human female.”

            “Right. But when two Gyrkin are completely and totally devoted to one another, they are able to change into the Higher Form. Not many tell of this, though. It’s a well-kept secret.”

            I smiled. “Okay. Understandable. So. How do we get out of here?”

            The two assassins returned with a white skin . . . and a blue-hued one. Ice Eyes buried her face into the white one, sighing contentedly, then wrapped it fur-side-in over me, concentrating for a moment. As I looked at her hands over my collarbone, I saw the skin actually meld together, turning the skin into a cloak. Hrutan blinked over my shoulder. “Tha’ was pretty amazin’. Can ye teach me tha’ when we’re safe?”

            “Certainly,” Ice eyes replied, smiling.

            She turned to watch as Blue Steel became Gyrkin again. His sigh as he finished shifting into the form was filled with emotions and feelings that were somehow beyond normal fulfillment. He looked at his mate, smiling calmly. His eyes weren’t even brown. They were nearly completely black.

            Oh, and he was the largest Gyrkin I have ever rested eyes upon.

            Ice Eyes rested her hands upon his snout, almost as large as a small Dragon’s, and he smiled, resting one paw around her tiny waist. “Aye. I’ll carry th’ cub. You take care o’ th’ lassie.”

            “I will.”

            “And can I ask you how your skin doesn’t adhere to you like others do?” I asked as the assassins started leaving.

            “Because I’m Ice Eyes,” she replied. “Mother of all Gyrkin. Now. Shall we?”

            I nodded, and I left, waiting for Hrutan. Once he was out and by my side, we followed the assassin group through stone halls. They took care of any guards that were ahead. As we passed most of them, I picked up a dagger here, a sword there . . . but left the sword in favor of a slightly-lighter one that had a better blade. And then the strongest feeling of dread hit. I stumbled, but didn’t fall, leaning against a wall, panting. Qyriian nosed my shoulder softly as Farthorn came back to me. “Majesty?”

            I shook my head, then knew what would happen. “The dead were found. They’re gathering a large force somewhere below us and southward.”

            “So you know this time?” Ice Eyes asked.

            “Yes,” I replied.

            “Good. Now what’s next?” Farthorn asked.

            I sighed, then outlined my plan to them. It would be tricky, but doable.

            I blinked at the height. “Great. Wasn’t counting upon it being this high.”

            The Higher Form Gyrkin female blinked over the edge. “Yeah. That would be high for you.” She looked over her shoulder at me, lowering her wing while doing so. “You ready?”

            “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I grumbled, reaching over her shoulders to clasp her lower arms, while she gripped mine. After a sigh, I asked, “You do know that . . . I think I’ll be sick at some point.”

            “Not a heights kinda girl?”

            “Not this high.”

            “I’ll try not to . . . oh, drat.”

            “What?”

            “Archers. With crossbows.”

            I sighed. “All right. Let’s just do this.”

            She dropped off of the side of the fortress, the wind catching her wings about halfway down. I wasn’t able to see it, since I had squeezed my eyes shut. Her mate had already gone ahead with Qyriian, and the assassins had left by secret routes, telling the Gyrkin that the meeting place was where they called qiqal, whatever that meant. They looked shocked for a moment, then nodded. Nothing more had been said about that, which made me curious until I asked Qyriian about it. He said that qiqal meant home in the language.

            But basically, I did end up passing out on Ice Eye’s back, only to wake up just before landing, hearing Ice Eyes calling to Blue Steel, laughing, telling him that she hadn’t had this much fun in centuries. I looked over her shoulder to see that we were just over four t’rows from the ground, and she was gently circling. The absence of wingbeats had awoken me, I realized, as Qyriian reared up on his hind legs, reaching up with Blue Steel to gently pluck us out of midair. I breathed into Qyriian’s neck, then felt him rumble something peaceful. The air was warm again. So we were probably jut south of the Central Mavrik region. He set me upon the ground. “Look, darlin’. Look where we are.”

            I turned, seeing a mountain . . .

            A man-made mountain.

            “This is the Forbidden Mount. Why are we here?” I asked, taking the Gyr-skin off easily, handing it back to Ice Eyes, who immediately became the furred beast. She shook herself easily, still slim and small, but looking twice as dangerous.

            “Why is it forbidden, do you think?” she asked.

            “They say that the Ancients had reason to seal it off, and that those who broke the taboo disappeared.”

            “Aye, they did,” a familiar voice said.

            I sighed. “Varthin.”

            “Aye, it’s me,” he replied sadly, walking into view. “And I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and the way I was acting. It’s just . . . I wasn’t expecting you to come here.”

            “What ’re ye doin’ here, Varthin,” Qyriian demanded.

            “Disappearing. Rethinking what I’ve said and done.” He looked at the two other Gyrkin, frowning. “And wondering about your companions. No female of our kind is built that delicately, and no male is that color.”

            Blue Steel chuckled. “Aye, not anymore there aren’t, unfortunately. Come. Since you’ve disappeared, we’ll tell ye what has happened concerning this country’s Queen and King.”

            “Actually,” I said, hands on hips, “I want to know why we should tell him anything, since he’s been ornery, nasty, and downright blasted uppity about myself and my husband before we were married.”

            Ice Eyes blinked. “Hm. Maybe that would be the best place to start, then. So? Please enlighten us so that we may choose our steps.”

            “Haven’t heard a femme Gyrkin speak that way since my mate, either,” Varthin said quietly. Sighing, he answered, “I had thought that I had wanted the best for you and Qyriian. And I realized that I had been wrong in trying to control what did and did not happen. I know that it was completely up to you and to him, and I know that you two knew what you were doing. But . . . I . . . I was foolish. I wanted to make sure that you two weren’t . . . well . . .”

            “Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “I know. And the other Gyrkin don’t like the way you were acting, either. So you’ll need to apologize to Lord Ariintan when you come back into the open again.”

            He nodded, sniffing. And sniffed again. Pointing halfway with his paw, he asked, “Uh, Riian?”

            “Yes?” I asked innocently, knowing exactly what he was about to ask.

            “Ye wouldn’t happen . . . eh . . . to be with child, would you?”

            I chuckled. “I am. And happily so.”

            Varthin looked at Qyriian, who was chuckling, carefully not moving his wings as he walked up to his grandfather and bumped his head against the older Gyrkin’s. It was something that a younger one did around older family whom they trusted and loved, I had been told. And seeing how Varthin’s shoulder relaxed and sagged slightly, I knew that my grandfather needed it. Ice Eyes smiled as Blue Steel said, “Well then, young’uns, come inside, and we’ll show you around.”

            “Young?” Varthin asked. “Me?”

            “In comparison to us . . . yes,” Ice Eyes replied, folding her wings gracefully. Blue Steel did the same, and I saw Varthin’s brow knit. “Ye don’t have the second-skin.”

            “No. Never did,” the male said.

            “Partially human?”

            “You’ll see.”

            The mountain was stunning on the inside. I had also found out that it was the castle that had been built by the Ancients and used for just over twenty generations before being abandoned for a secondary castle that had been built. That was the castle in the Lost City that my grandmother seven generations back had assassinated nobles in. As we were walking we saw some humans, who quickly smiled and nodded to the two Gyrkin leading us before returning to their tasks. Blue Steel and Ice Eyes never said anything about who they were as they helped us tell our story, but Varthin kept glancing at them strangely.

            And then we ended the tour at a locked door. I just watched it, feeling that there was much more behind it than what we had seen so far. Ice Eyes sighed, sitting. “Our DNA doesn’t open it. Nor does that of any of the humans’.”

            “‘Dee-En-Ay’? What’s that?” I asked.

            “Ah. Sorry. It stands for deoxyribonucleic acid. It’s . . . oh.” She laughed, seeing me blink at her. “You’re so intelligent that I forget that you’re not an Ancient!” Still smiling, she replied, “Well, basically, who you are physically. Everything about you, from the colors of your skin, eyes, hair, everything, are encoded in the smallest part of you.”

            “I don’t think that I understand.”

            “Well . . .” she sighed. “This door has been locked since the last Royal decided to lock it specially, saying that only she and her descendants will be able to open it. Some say riches beyond imagining lie upon the other side. Some say that it’s the burial ground for the twenty generations of royalty. But we, my mate and I, and two Dragons, know better. We know what is on the other side.”

            Blue Steel walked up to Varthin, looking him squarely in the eyes. “Because we have been there.”

            “By the fangs . . . who are you?”

            “My Queen?” Ice Eyes asked. “Do please name us, so that our little one will remember.”

            I reached up to rest my hand upon the side of her neck, showing her that I thought of her as more than just my equal. “Varthin, these are the immortal Ice Eyes and her mate Blue Steel. They have finally come back to us.”

            Varthin passed out.

            “So . . . you going to touch the door?” Blue Steel asked me later that day. Varthin was fine, but he said that he needed to hunt so that he could clear his mind.

            I looked over my shoulder at him. “I guess.”

            I felt another snout nose at me, a bass rumble reverberating though my back. “Darlin’, my wings itch. An’ I canna touch ’em.”

            Laughing, I turned and itched at the unbroken bases of his wings through his second-skin. He arched his back, sighing, and I looked at the door again. It was three t’rows high, and about two across. There were Gyrkin and Dragons on each door, with humans riding the Dragons and playing with the Gyrkin. On either side of the door were two Higher Form Gyrkin. The one on the left, male, held a strange device that looked like a shining sphere with something within it on its left hand, while he held a sword in the other hand. The Higher Form Gyrkin on the right, female, held a spear with a long, curved blade at the end easily, while within the other was what looked like the design for the scales of law.

            I had asked what that had meant, but Ice Eyes said that she would not tell. I had guessed as much. Qyriian noticed my lack of attention upon him, and he eased out from under my hand, walking up to the door. “What ’re these cats?”

            “Once called ‘cheetahs.’ Their descendants live in the hot plains of Southtrail, and are called Swifts at this point. They used to be only two to three feet high at the shoulder, but now . . . they’re about four or five,” Ice Eyes replied from her perch near the rafters.

            “Feet?” Qyriian asked.

            “That’s the old measurement, right?” I replied.

            “That’s correct,” Ice Eyes said.

            “So that means that they were . . . about a fifth of a t’row at the shoulder. sometimes just over.”

            “Correct again.”

            “They’re the Clan symbol for the Xaqtha.”

            Varthin came back to us, blinking at the door and the various animals with his grandson. Finally, I walked over to the strange warm-looking panel that was just at shoulder-height to me, to the right of the door. “What do I do?”

            “Touch it. It might sting for a moment, but that’s how it works.”

            I blinked, then rested my palm flat against the smooth surface. It didn’t sting, but only tingled, and the warmth left the stone-like plate. I pulled my hand away. “That . . . well . . . great. I don’t think that I’m of the royal line after all.”

            “Why?” Blue Steel asked.

            “It didn’t sting, and it turned cold.”

            “Cold?”

            “Yeah. Why?”

            Rumbling and grinding forestalled Blue Steel’s reply, and I turned slowly to see a large crack in the door widen as the panels swung inwards on soundless hinges. The grinding was the bottoms of the doors scraping over eons of dust . . .

            Or so I thought.

            It was as clean as if maids had polished the stone floors and walls every day since the Ancients had left.

            People came running from all directions to see the open door. Blue Steel stopped them with a roar, then looked me. “Royal. Please, Majesty, enter that which is yours by right and inheritance.”

            I felt all the eyes of those who were there watching me as I walked forward. Qyriian then was at my side, and I rested my hand upon his shoulder, walking through the door. Varthin bowed his head to me. “I shall keep them from following you and our ancestors. I . . . I don’t feel that I belong in that place as of yet.”

            “Someday,” I whispered, “I think you just might be.”

            We took the first steps into the other half of the First Citadel, and I felt as if we were heading back into a time that had been unknown for millennia . . . just as we were about to take a leap off of some giant cliff and into a future that . . . that had no limits. It was strange.

            We walked down the long hall, seeing ornate frames encircling a black space on the walls between white, shining pillars. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the doors still open, Varthin just on the other side of the threshold, watching us. We reached another set of doors, plain and simple ones. The Gyrkin pushed them open, and they closed behind us, sealing off the light. Softly, though, a light started to appear in the center of the room, not reaching the walls. A figure appeared from that light, one that looked feminine, wearing long robes and sporting long, straight silver hair that fell to the floor and curled to her feet.

            “Hello. Please state your name and business.”

            I blinked at the slightly-transparent apparition before me. “What . . . what are you?”

            She spoke slightly haltingly, enunciating strange parts of the words in ways that usually aren’t heard. “I am installment seven in the Remembrance Hall, called Nostalgia by those who knew me before. Name and business, please.”

            “I’m Harmony Riian. I don’t know what you mean by business.”

            “Then what is your purpose of entering?”

            “Should I have one?”

            That seemed to puzzle Nostalgia. “No, I suppose not. However, you are escorted by three Gyrkin. Only Second Level are usually allowed into the Remembrance Hall.”

            “‘Second Level’?” I asked. “What’s that?”

            “What you call the Higher Form.” Ice Eyes came up behind me, saying, “Ice Eyes, second experiment, ninth strain, first successful breeding female. Requesting history.”

            The blue-hued thing looked at Ice Eyes. “Ice Eyes. Illogical. This does not calibrate. That Gyrkin’s age limit was approximated at around five centuries.”

            “I am her, nevertheless. I shall supply DNA if needed to verify.”

            “No. Not needed. Your form matches the databases. What part of history do you wish to observe?”

            “All of it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

            “Beginning? Ah. ‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth–’”

            “No, no, Nostalgia. That would only confuse the Royal. Please tally the year this is since Landfall.”

            “Year is 3962 since Landfall.”

            “And the year since anno Domini?”

            “6335, precisely. New Year was last week.”

            “Thank you.” Ice Eyes smiled briefly at me, trying to reassure me.

            “Inquiry?”

            She turned her attention back to the . . . the thing before us. “Continue.”

            “Blue Steel, second experiment, fourth strain, first successful breeding male. My inquiry is if he is still alive.”

            “I am,” Blue Steel replied. “We have talked before.”

            “Ah. I have much to catch up on. You have not changed, though.”

            “That would be right. You have no idea, Nostalgia Seven, about what has happened.”

            “Then should you tell me?”

            “Not yet. You still need to tell our Royal about her ancestry and why she is a Royal. Plus, she is educated in rural ways, therefore her education is lacking.”

            “So I shall have to begin early? Can she write and read?”

            “Yes,” Harmony replied.

            “Do you know of anything about Landfall?”

            “I’ve never heard about it.”

            Blue Steel smiled, resting a massive paw upon my shoulder softly. “Then you will. It’s time that you learned about what things really are in this world. There are more reasons behind Dragons and Gyrkin than you know. Are you ready to learn, granddaughter?”

            I reached out to try to touch the being in front of me, but my fingers passed straight through her. She smiled kindly. “You cannot touch me. I am only refracted light concentrated to produce some color, but mainly I am not here.”

            “What are you?”

            “What you see is a hologram. It is a face that you can relate to, instead of looking at a wall or a computer screen. This form is to put you at ease, since we can relate upon this level. I am an artificial intelligence, AI for short. My sole purpose is to teach as much History as I have in my databases. There is another to teach Science and Mathematics, and then a third for reading, writing, and languages. Their names are Iota and Pidgin, respectively.”

            “When will I meet them?” I asked, not bothering to ask about some of the strange words she had used. I knew that I’d learn their meaning soon enough.

            “You will have to activate them. Don’t worry, Royal Harmony. You will know how once we are done talking, and once you know the history of how you came here. Please forgive me when I was slow in catching on earlier. I have not had a verbal conversation with a human or any other intelligent being in quite a while. I feel that I am now functioning normally.”

            “How long will that take?” I asked.

            Nostalgia shrugged. “I will tell it to you in portions of two hours each, so that you will be able to rest and ask questions at the end of those lectures. If you need to rest or eat at any time, please tell me, and I will stop my narrative so that I may resume when you are more alert to details.”

            “Me wife is th’ Queen. There ’re a lot o’ issues tha’ might come up around ’er bein’ in th’ Forbidden Mount,” Qyriian said.

            “True. It would be better to send a message to tell someone where you are and for what purposes you are here for,” the . . . the hologram said. “I can always start a little later.”

            I nodded, then turned to the door, seeing them open before me. I knew that it would be a long time before I understood the answers to the questions I had flying through my head. But you know what? I would enjoy the process of learning. I always have.

            And as Qyriian walked beside me, I knew that it would be well worth my while.