It was the hardest choice of the three.
Lia bowed her head, pained to the deepest clefts in her soul at the thought of losing Colvin to Hillel. But even more painful was the thought that all the Abbeys would be burned, that it was true – no one would be able to return to Idumea on their death. The Abbeys were the links. Without them, it would take years and years to contruct another. Even the survivors of Pry-Ree, even those who escaped by ship, would have to start building them anew, stone upon stone.
Lia could see Colvin’s face in her mind as he knelt across an altar from Hillel. He looked determined. Fiercely determined. Their hands clasped.
You are so young, the woman said soothingly. Why lose your life when you are but the bud of a flower and have not yet tasted the first kiss of sunlight? Do you desire children? Do you desire posterity? You will die here, child. Join with me. Save the tomes you crave, the Abbey you adore, and the man you love. A thought is all it will take. A single thought. Give me your true name. Think it.
The feelings were so intense, Lia thought she would die from them. But how could she die if she were already dead? Drawing back into herself, she realized that everything Ereshkigal had promised her were lies. She had no such power. Her only intent was to make Lia surrender to her will, by promising anything she could imagine that would tempt her. It was a deception. All of it. Had she not promised Hillel that she could have Colvin? If that promise was broken, then why not any other promise made? Why did she want Lia to surrender her true name?
Then she understood. It came as it always did when the Medium spoke to her. It was a little whisper of insight, a bit of wisdom broken free from the chaff. The Myriad Ones were the Unborn. They did not have bodies of their own. When they were banished from Idumea, they hungered to take by force what they could not enjoy naturally. A body. Her body. By surrendering her true name, a Myriad One would enter inside her body and control her. She would do Ereshkigal’s will in all things, enjoying the body, using it and then fling it aside when it was past its usefulness. Then she would inhabit another, and then another. Lia was not needed. It was only the shell they craved, not the pearl within.
Lia looked up at the woman, her flowing robes and dazzling jewels. Illusions. She had nothing, wore nothing. Despite her strength of will, she was powerless against Lia. She could not force her to relinquish her right to her own body.
Lia stared at her. “Be gone.”
The look in Ereshkigal’s eyes hardened with fury. You will give me your true name!
“Be gone.”
The feeling in the room swelled with hatred and fury. It was so shockingly strong that it stunned Lia for a moment. The woman shrieked and the sound scalded Lia’s ears and made her flinch.
“I speak your true name. You are Ereshkigal, the Unborn. Be gone!”
Lia felt the Medium churning inside her, growing stronger and stronger.
I will destroy them all!
The woman’s form began to hiss and dissolve.
They will all die, one by one! You have no boat. No orb. You have nothing! You are nothing but a pitiful little wretched. I killed your father and mother. I will kill all you love or who love you. I will kill them all and they will be banished here as I am!
Lia stared at the fading form. “I am coming for you, Pareigis. I know your true name.”
It was at that moment that she awoke, eyes blinking against the glare of lamp lights. She smelled cider and incense and heard the crackle of a hearth fire. She also heard a voice – the Aldermaston of Dochte’s voice.
“She is waking at last. The transition took longer than I expected. Come closer, they are very strong when they awaken. Do not be alarmed, the skin blotches are fading now that the poison has finished its work. Bring the lamp and some cider. She will be thirsty.”
Another voice was next to her, Dieyre’s. “Can you hear me? Do you remember your true name? Waken, hetaera.”
CHAPTER THIRTY:
Awakening
Lia was surrounded by men. As her eyes opened, she saw them hovering at the bedside. There was the Aldermaston of Dochte, the earl of Dieyre, and three Dochte Mandar, one holding a blazing torch.
“The bite marks are fading,” the one with the torch observed in a low tone.
“She must have struggled fiercely,” murmured another.
The Aldermaston stared at her, his face betraying a certain eagerness. His hand strayed towards her hair. “Are you awake now? What is your name?”
Lia’s mouth was parched and thick. Her body was weary for she had not eaten in a long while. She tried to lick her lips and the Aldermaston gestured for a chalice of cider.