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Broken Tides

The Undying - A Prologue

Villa Gogola, Year 307

Pressing pale fingers against the window pane, the youngest of the Gogola line stared out across still waters, toward the shadow that rested in the middle of the lake. The first of dawn’s light had only begun to thin the morning fog, and the isle was still hidden from view. Though, there was no doubting that shape, or the heavy feeling that rested in her belly, just by knowing it was out there. But, no matter how much her dark brown eyes wished, that shadow would not vanish, forgotten, into the mists.

Breath fogging the glass as she tried to think back to more pleasant times, Sheri Gogola stiffened, startled when a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder. The feeling faded within moments as she recognized the faint scent of sandalwood and cedar that her older brother was fond of.

Unmoving, the young raven-haired girl continued her vigil as time marched inexorably onward. Behind her, remaining in companionable silence, she could tell Hector was just as worried. In any other circumstance, he would have said something the moment he found her wandering the halls, but not this time. After all, what could he say in the face of what they both knew was inevitable. Words of comfort would be empty, only a reminder of what they stood to lose.

Still, the grip on her shoulder tightened, almost uncomfortably, and that was enough for her. It conveyed far more than wasted breath, and Sheri knew that her brother would do everything in his power to ensure that this would not be forgotten. The Gogola name would not suffer for this day. That was his unspoken promise to her. It gave her some measure of strength, made brighter the hope that lay at the bottom of her being; hope for a better tomorrow.

“It’s about time to go,” the distinctive rumble of her brother’s voice pulled Sheri’s gaze away from the window.

“Already,” she asked, knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have come otherwise, having spent the morning in a meeting with the Seneschal and the Blue Robe.

“Yes, the boat’s sure to be ready. I--I wanted them to give you a little more time, but this was the best I could manage,” Hector’s firm grip left his sister, trailing off slowly as if she might collapse the moment he let go. “Meno told me you went to see Mother,” he paused, uncomfortable with the subject, and they both knew it. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Sheri glared up at her brother, who towered over her, though she’d been starting to catch up over the last harvest season. “You were planning to stop me,” it was as much a question as an accusation.

“No, and you wouldn’t have listened to me anyway. I just didn’t want you going down there any more than necessary,” he turned away, not wanting this to be the way they parted.

“Is it too much that I wanted to see her one last time,” Sheri stepped away from the window, slippers padding against the cold tiles underfoot. “You’re jealous that I’m not scared to see her,” she spun on her heel sharply enough to whip her chocolate tresses through the air as she stormed past her brother’s stunned expression. “You should think about that, Hector. After all, you’ll have to do it eventually. Maybe if you beg, Meno will go with you, but you might have to pay him too,” her words were bitingly smug, and all too reminiscent of a Gogola woman. It didn’t suit her pale, childish figure in the least. All it did was remind Hector of what they were all losing in this bargain.

“I don’t want to talk about this, I just,” he threw up his hands in frustration. The whole situation was wearing on them all, and here he was, only adding to the misery. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.” He watched as his sister paused, halting her steps a few feet away.

“What did you think was going to happen? You knew, just like everyone else. Sometimes, we don’t have a choice. Not for our family. Mother knew that, and made sure I did too,” Sheri folded her arms in an unconscious imitation of said woman. “I can do this. I’m not afraid,” she spoke evenly, while inside, her stomach roiled at the prospect. She stared at her brother, who met those shining brown eyes with no less pride. There was no question about what being a Gogola meant. It was a heavy burden to bear, but the weight wasn’t impossible.

After all, there were only two possible outcomes, either they could save the world, or condemn it. It was no small matter that a girl so young, not quite into her fourteenth summer, was tasked with giving up so much. It was also a thankless task, and must remain so, in order to succeed.

“Sheri,” he looked as if he were going to say something more, but tightened his jaw, mirroring the resolve on his little sister’s face. Instead, he merely nodded. She was right, and there was nothing left to say that wouldn’t lead to regret. This was the best way to leave it. The young woman before his eyes deserved at least that much from him, he owed her for all the hardships he and their other brother, Meno, had visited upon her when they were all children. Yet, how they were paying her back? With exile.

It was too much, and it tore at him, not just as her brother, or even as Hector Gogola, but as a young man in search of his own meaning, his own honor. It was a heavy burden indeed, he reflected, as the two of them fell back into silence, walking side by side through the chilly stone halls. “I’m sorry,” he ventured at last, just before they reached the arch that would lead them out to the courtyard and out to the docks. “About everything.”

“Don’t be. I’m not,” the raven haired girl looked up at her brother, and then out over the courtyard at the small assembly gathered there. “I don’t have to deal with all of Father’s mistakes anymore, not after this.”

“Or Meno,” the broad shouldered Hector smiled, but it made him look twice his age.

“Or him,” she nodded, heedless of the hiccup in her voice, or the wetness shining on her cheeks. It was getting harder to keep her feet moving forward.

Before the two made it halfway across the flagstones that divided the courtyard from the garden, they were met by the Seneschal and his retainers. Lord Fiske wasn’t a tall man, but one could be forgiven for mistaking him so at a distance, due to his thin spindly limbs, and the haughty way he carried himself. That he was stuffy, demanding and entirely too self-important meant little to the Gogolas present. To them, he was something of an eccentric uncle, a long-standing friend of the family, and one of their father’s staunchest supporters.

That the Seneschal, by title, was the voice of the Emperor in the surrounding countryside was of no consequence to them. Or, so it had seemed up until three days ago, when he’d arrived at the Villa amidst a late summer storm, a look of resignation across his brow, and one of the Emperor’s Blue Robes in tow. Things had quickly turned around for the family at that moment. The time had come upon them, sneaking, crawling and worming past all their defenses.

“Everything is in order, the only thing remaining is your presence, young Gogola,” Fiske intoned, waving off the two robed men flanking him. Scratching at the sparse beginnings of a beard, the Seneschal looked off through the rapidly thinning fog, towards the tiny isle where several flickering orange lights could be seen. “I’m afraid we no longer have time to dally,” he crouched down, bent at the waist to bring himself level with the girl. “I trust you said all of your good byes,” the look in his eyes was stern but not uncaring.

She only nodded in response, her attention alternating between that piercing gaze and the lights dancing out on the lake.

“Good, I’d hate to think what your father might say to me if you’d been neglectful,” he gave her something that might have been a grimace on anyone else, but for a serious man like Lord Fiske, it was a beaming smile, and probably meant to be reassuring.

“Mother sends you her regards,” the raven haired girl spoke at length, when the silence and the smile grew stifling to her. She might have slipped a blade between his ribs for how quickly his expression twisted.

The Seneschal drew up, glaring over Sheri’s head at Hector, who met his gaze, albeit flinchingly. “I don’t suppose you might have had a hand in this,” Fiske’s voice dripped with distaste, and unveiled disappointment. “You should know well enough your father’s wishes. Not to mention, have a bit of common sense. This is hard enough on your sister, without making things more difficult that need be.”

“Of course, Lord Fiske,” Hector bunched up his shoulders, as if he were trying to tuck his head away. “It was my mistake,” he flushed, grumbling out a half-apology.

The thin man clicked his tongue, “I don’t suppose it matters at this point, but you’d do well to keep your duties in mind, if you plan on carrying the line,” he knotted his brows, “It’s not enough to fill your father’s boots. You have to be able to walk in them, and they are weighty indeed. But, that is talk for another day,” Fiske turned away, taking Sheri’s hand up in his own long fingers. “Come, they’re waiting for you. We all are, and I pray that it’s not too late.”

Behind them, Hector dropped his head and wondered why it had come to this. Wasn’t the country great? The Emperor was next to the gods, his hand reached far and crushed their enemies. That this even came to pass, was beyond consideration. It bore deeper thinking, and left him with questions that he dare not ask. That the Gogola Family existed at all, was hard enough to come to terms with, in light of the duty they had been tasked as far back as the line was recorded. Were they just sacrificial lambs in the end?

Because that was all he could see. His sister was the very image of their mother, fate and all. He didn’t want to see, and Hector knew that his brother was of like mind, as was their father. But, the Seneschals’ words rang true. There was a duty to be done. In the end, what was one life when weighed against the country? No matter that it was his baby sister who was being thrown to the wolf. It was the right thing to do, even if he didn’t believe that in the bottom of his heart.

Shaking his head, the eldest of the Gogola children set his shoulders and hurried after the retreating forms of his sister and Lord Fiske as they headed to the small dock and the boat that would ferry them all to the isle. In just a few short hours, like them, the Villa would be poorer for this.

But, the Empire would enjoy another hundred years of peace and prosperity. The people would once again be safe, spared the waking of the terror that dwelled in the distant frigid peaks. If only they knew. He didn’t linger on that for long, for there was more immediate concern. Hector caught up and took up his position just behind his sister on the boat. Overhead, the clear blue sky stared down, far to cheery for his liking.

The ride across the placid waters took little time, and the boat reached the island shore much too soon for either Gogola. But, they had arrived, and there was nothing for it but to finish what had to be done with the dignity expected of them. Because, in the end, they knew full well that this was a fated thing, decided from the moment Sheri took her first breath. Stilling the tremor in her hands, she stepped onto the soft grass as Lord Fiske beckoned.

"Come, I can already see that the Blue Robe is anxious to begin. We've dallied far too long as it is," he took the young girl's hand and led her to the edge of a large stone ring that almost completely spanned the tiny isle. The remnants of seven wide columns surrounded the smooth stone, once supports for large dome, now relics of the first ceremony, ages past.

As countless times before, and probably well into the future, a Blue Robe of the Emperor was waiting to perform the binding. Though the Seneschal mentioned a sense of urgency, neither of the Gogola's present could tell from the nearly motionless figure standing next to one of the blazing braziers arranged around the stone. The Blue Robe might very well have been a statue himself, and looked to remain that way until the end of time.

But, that changed the moment that Sheri stepped up onto the stone. Now that she was present, the Blue Robe's work was only just beginning.