Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy: Volume I)

by Trey Copeland

  Chapter 9

  Steffor found little comfort in his return to the House of Kilton. He had entered undetected from one of the town-side portals located at the far west end of the compound. He roamed the expanse of halls and stairs, passing the many training rooms, arenas, community centers and dining halls in silence. The house, shifted deep into the lake's curved rim, had not changed since his departure over a decade ago, causing his recent transformation to weigh all the heavier.

  In no mood for a reunion, he avoided the score of Guardians and apprentices still active despite the late hour. He made his way lakeside, to the long hall providing access to the dozens of private quarters. The first unoccupied room he chose was like all the rest: small with three, unadorned walls, veneered smooth by their own resin that accentuated the marbled grain. A pallet occupied the corner to his left, covered with a fresh pile of soft torra leaves. A partially enclosed terrace opposite to the entrance overlooked the vast lake.

  Steffor crossed the small room in two strides, flopping down on one of the large cushions littering the terrace. His gaze lost upon the tranquil waters, he released troubled thoughts upon the moonlit waves. He drifted over the eastern shore, where the rim was but a few feet above lake level.

  The simple beauty found amongst the multitude of docks and piers shifted from the rim a welcome addition to his mental escape. A handful of harvest, preservative and naval Shifters sat around their boats and docks as they savored an evening meal. The harvest moon still shined bright, providing the niche Shifters the opportunity to gather a few more loads of the lake’s aquatic vegetables and fruits.

  Peaceful as the setting was, the emotional tension from the day's travels with Calivera persisted. Despite her undaunted attempts to countervail his feelings, Steffor's passion for Calivera had not waned. If anything, it had only grown since parting.

  Women could be frustrating. This much he had learned from prior relationships and growing up with three older and one younger sister. He admired the fiery compassion found in the opposite sex and was quick to forgive their often-fluctuating temperament. Honed over the seasons, he came to trust this barometer of the female species. Its accuracy in deciphering their true feelings had never failed, no matter how much words or actions conveyed otherwise. He had picked up what Calivera was putting down, and it told him, loud and clear, without a shadow of doubt, she shared his ardor.

  Even so, her parting words managed to darken his outlook. From the onset of their relationship, Calivera had treated him with respect and kindness. Yet her staunch efforts to keep their relationship platonic had caused Steffor to second-guess everything. For reasons that continued to allude, she seemed determined to deny their connection. Worse yet, she appeared bent on hurting him. Neither reality settled well.

  Mired deep in doubtful thoughts, a savory aroma wafted into the room and broke his concentration. A second after he sensed the familiar presence of another.

  "I always find a warm meal and cold drink helps the meditative process. Especially after a day of travel," said a women's voice from his open doorway.

  "Even better when shared with a close friend," Steffor replied as he stood and turned to face Martna.

  "Well, lucky for you, I brought enough for two," she replied, holding to her side with one hand a tray laden with two steaming bowls and two tall mugs.

  With an alluring grin, Martna crossed the room in three long strides, stealthy with slight bounce of step and soft pad of feet. She placed the tray down between pillows before turning back to face Steffor.

  Standing within a few inches, Martna drew her broad shoulders back and placed her hands flat on the small of her back. Her arms and elbows flared out in this fashion, lips pursed to one side with chin forward, hazel eyes studied Steffor with probing concern. Her friendly stare reminded Steffor how much he missed Martna’s comforting presence.

  "You cut your hair," Steffor commented, finding he liked the wild bangs cropping her forehead and face versus the tightly drawn back pony tail she wore for so many seasons.

  "Yeah, well, I figured it was about time I started showing off the length of my tail." She turned her head so he could see the light brown Guardian tail extending several inches past her bare shoulders and feathered hair.

  "It looks good, makes you look more mature," he said, in truth, thinking it made her all the more attractive. Her back still to him, his gaze lingered a bit longer and soaked in the rest. Few rivaled Martna’s aesthetic mastery over garments, currently a blend of tan, brown and green. He admired the fetching halter-top connected at the neck by a thin loop. The design exposed the length of her supple back with just enough side cleavage of her firm breasts to be both provocative and unpretentious. He risked venturing down farther, following the low cut, snug pants, ending with a slight flare above her sculpted calves.

  "Mature enough to be a Teuton?" She asked, turning back to face him, the movement filling his nostrils with a potent concoction of honeysuckle and oiled-leather.

  "Absolutely," Steffor answered, swifter then he intended. Martna's forehead knit and her right eyebrow rose in response. As it had in their past, her look of disapproval put Steffor's rush of lust in check.

  "So, I assume your arrival here means you will be attending the Forging Ceremony?" she asked, intent on holding his eye.

  "Yes, I sent word as much, did it not reach here?"

  "Aye, young Frestin connected to a Mystic moments after seeing you and conveyed your correspondence with impeccable detail."

  "So why did you..." Steffor stopped, biting his tongue, forcing himself not to take the bait. He loved Martna and valued her friendship like none other. A few seasons ago, he would have locked horns with her and hotly debated the principles he used to justify his actions. The spark of conflict between his liberal interpretations and her rigid sense of duty had ignited a short-lived but intense relationship. Steffor recalled the relationship with pleasure. Tonight, however, it was a battle Steffor had no interest in or energy for pursuing.

  "Is that Clarkston's veadle stew?" he asked as he sat down and grabbed a bowl.

  "And a pint of his jinus stout," she added, content to sit down and let the subject drop.

  They ate and drank, enjoying the majestic view in silence. Their meal finished, Martna turned to face him, crossed her legs, straitened her back and closed her eyes. He matched her position and within moments, synchronized his breath to her steady cadence.

  Ginllats had traveled well above Toliver's evergreen canopy by the time Steffor’s head nodded with a jerk. A long yawn followed as he shook the remnants of blissful conscious unconsciousness experienced by those lost in the state of lucid theta. Martna stirred in a similar way, groggy and bleary eyed.

  "Thank you Steffor. We were long overdue," she said, standing up.

  "Indeed," Steffor replied, standing to face her. "Thank you Martna, your presence here...now..."

  Both moved to the other in that moment and embraced, strong and supportive like Guardians, close and familiar like former lovers. They held each other for several long seconds before Martna pulled her chin off his shoulder, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the forehead.

  "It is good to see you amongst the living Steffor," she said, rubbing his shoulders with affection. The second she left the room, he collapsed on the pallet and embraced a deep, dreamless sleep.