by Lexy Wolfe
“I guess it would be,” Marcus said, looking at the water skin. “Master Terrence, if you are really a Githalin, why don’t you have a different name?”
“Actually, I do. My Githalin name is Sumyr il’Dzee. But since it would confuse most people in the north why I had a Desanti name, I go by my given name there. Here…” He thought for a moment. “I am not sure. If they have trouble accepting another Desanti as a Githalin because she is not a Swordanzen, I shudder to imagine their reaction once they realize a ‘defiler’ is one.”
Marcus scratched Petal between her wings as he considered the matter. “That dragon thing that you called was Dzee, right?”
“Wyvern, but yes.” Terrence looked curious. “Why do you ask?”
The boy shrugged. “Well, they have seen her and they can’t really deny that she exists at all. The Desanti got mad because they thought Master Nolyn mocked them having a knife given by Citali. You see, he is not like the other Totani. He lives where the dead go. Master was able to bring him to this side for a little while so he could help save Trisari Endarian from the Oolak.”
Petal and Terrence both stared at Marcus. “Endarian, the ancient patron of the Avarian family? You have seen him?”
“Uh huh. He was trapped in Andar but then Master Eptina’s father was a stupid traitor and tried to break the barrier. Master Nolyn and I went to Andar but we both nearly died because the Oolak is a really bad, bad type of darkling that only Star could really fight.”
Terrence looked at the eternal braid on his forearm, frowning faintly when the goddess remained silent. “Did you find any others?”
“No.” Marcus held the pendant tighter. “Just Trisari Endarian. But I think there are only six others out there somewhere. That’s what Totani Anibu said. Sorta. He explained what happened to the Trisari in a riddle. Something about not being able to speak directly on it.”
“Only seven Trisari left?” He sighed. “Well, at least She has more than one divine servant now.”
“Oh, well…uh, sort of but not really?” Marcus explained, “See, he said that the Trisari were punished for doing bad things that the ancient trinity did not approve of and threatened the great balance. But because seven of them did them for good reasons, or something like that, they were banished to the mortal realm. Until they have redeemed themselves and been forgiven.”
“Redemption?” Terrence murmured to himself, as he sat back, rubbing his chin in a manner much like Ash would when he thought. “I wonder what they had done that warranted—”
“I don’t know about the others, but…” Marcus leaned close and whispered, “Endarian said he had captured and tortured a Totani named Zhekali.” When Terrence only stared at him, deathly pale, the boy asked worriedly, “Are you okay, Master Terrence?”
“He…tortured her?” He felt the eyes of the rest of the tribe turning toward him and belatedly muffled his connection to them, waving their attention away.
The apprentice nodded. “He told us she was the one who made him realize what they were doing, so he set her free and confessed to the ancient trinity what they had done. The weird thing was, he said Zhekali argued for him and the other six to give him and the others a chance to learn from their mistakes.”
Terrence pinched the bridge of his nose for several moments, then sighed, resting his head against the wall for a moment. “Tell me what he is like?”
He pulled out his journal, flipping to a page with a detailed drawing of the winged man seated at the foot of a tree, gazing up into its branches. “Sorry the drawing isn’t very good. I’m still working on getting the details just right.”
Terrence gave him a sidelong look. “This is an excellent sketch.”
Marcus squared his shoulders with pride, then sighed, looking at the image. “He is…very sad, Master Terrence. And ashamed. And…alone.”
“Yes,” the man murmured, thoughtful, watching Storm and the pair of drizzen. “I imagine he is.” He returned his attention to the apprentice. “There aren’t many lowborn who get apprenticed to very notable masters. And the first apprentice to a new Edai Magus? Especially First Chair? I imagine you’ve had some difficulties.”
“Ah, just a few,” Marcus demurred.
Terrence arched an eyebrow, a half-smile on his lips. “Only a few?”
Biting his lip, Marcus looked down for a heartbeat, then looked up with great earnestness. “Some of the highborn have been absolutely horrible! All snobbish talk and no talent at all! Some of the masters even have to help them just so they pass!”
“Ah, you noticed that? Good. Nolyn deserves a worthy apprentice.” Marcus straightened with pride, even though his cheeks burned bright red. “Tell me, Apprentice. Have you ever played toss stones?” He laughed quietly at the boy’s quizzical expression.
Several hours passed before a young woman who served in First Home entered the chamber the two groups rested in. She did not look at those she passed, approaching Storm where she sat with several of her companions. She bowed deeply. “Githalin Swordanzen, the elders of Desantiva welcome you home.” The woman inclined her head in acknowledgment.
Skyfire frowned, his eyes bright gold as he studied the newcomer. He leaned close to Lyra to whisper in her ear. “Something is wrong.”
“It is good to be home, Tia. Is my grandfather well?”
Tia’s grave expression did not change. “He wishes to see you and the other outlanders…I mean…” She averted her eyes in mute apology. “The Dusvet Guardians. To thank you for averting the stain on Desantiva’s honor by preventing a dishonorable death during the Time of Gathering. He would have come to welcome you himself, but—”
Storm frowned, standing in a smooth motion and striding out of the chamber at such a swift pace, the others had to jog to catch up to her. They nearly ran over her when she skidded to a stop in the audience hall. Several Desanti elders knelt on pillows along the walls, their heads bowed and hands clasped in prayer. Resting on a cot, his upper body slightly inclined, Verris lay with his eyes closed. A richly embroidered blanket drawn up to his waist.
Those who had met the man when they had come with Almek were shocked at the sight. Despite it having only been a handful of years, Verris appeared to have aged a decade or more. He possessed none of the vibrant vitality they remembered of him. His hair, formerly streaked with traces of bronze and copper, was only faded gold. Deep lines creased his face and his green-gold eyes were milky with cataracts.
Ash tore his gaze away from the sight, looking at his lifemate. He stopped Taylin from offering aid, shaking his head before she opened her mouth. Without a word, he put a comforting hand on Storm’s shoulder.
She closed her eyes a moment, her expression reflecting no shock, only grief and heartache. And appreciation for his presence. She squeezed his hand briefly before going to the elder and kneeling by him, taking his frail hand in both of hers. “Grandfather, I am home.”
“Storm?” he croaked, turning his face toward her.
“Aelia,” she corrected. “Call me Aelia.”
Tears of joy and gratitude filled his blind eyes, covering her hand with his other. “Thank you, great father. I prayed for you to return, Aelia. I prayed the na’Zhekali would be restored, our ancestral lands could finally be healed. You were…my only hope for the future. Our tribe…cannot die. Not after surviving so long.”
She closed her eyes, pressing his hands against her cheek. “Yes, Grandfather. The na’Zhekali will live on. I promise you.”
“I waited so long,” he lamented. “The pull to return to the land…was so strong. I wanted to know…to be sure…I could not go not knowing if you were well.”
“Forgive me for taking so long to return. We needed to insure Lord Almek Two-Tones survived.” She smiled sadly. “I was not the first of our tribe allowed to leave Desantiva.” The man’s smile faded into confusion. “Our ancestor, Githalin Swordanzen Hunter il’Thandar, had a son. Jaison na’Zhekali. He has been serving the Timeless One all this time.”
; Jaison stepped forward, lowering himself to one knee and bowing his head. “It is an honor to meet you, Elder Verris.” He closed his eyes as the withered hand touched his face, tracing the pair of marks on his cheek.
“A Dusvet Guardian?” The man nodded once, taking the elder’s shaking hand in both of his. “Keep my granddaughter happy. She is the world to me.”
Jaison flicked a look at Ash over his shoulder, then looked back to the old man. “I will do my best for her.”
“Good.” Letting his hand drop away, Verris took a deep, rattling breath. “Now I can return to our ancestors in peace, Aelia. Please.” He wheezed as he strained to breathe. “I am too weak…to return to the land…on my own. Let me go…with honor…to join the warriors of heaven.”
Storm closed her eyes, nodding wordlessly. She reached for his Naming Blade. Even the Totani-given knife did not glitter as brightly as it once had. She looked over her shoulder at the others. “Go. This is a Desanti matter. Your presence is not…needed.”
“No,” Ash said in a low voice. “Do what you must. We will not interfere.”
Storm only nodded, looking back to Verris. She leaned down, running her hand over his gold hair, kissing his brow. “I look forward to knowing you in the next life, Grandfather.” His weak smile faltered with a grunt as she slid the blade between his ribs, piercing his heart. The moment of tension faded and he went limp.
Taylin gasped and hid her face against her husband’s chest. Mureln put his arm around her, closing his eyes and putting a hand atop Izkynder’s head as his son hugged his leg tightly The boy pressed his cheek against the man’s thigh as he watched without a sound. The others also averted their gazes as, one by one, the Desanti raised their voices in a keen akin to a battlecry, announcing the return of one of their own to the heavens.
Storm stepped back as she felt the knife begin to dissolve into glittering dust. She started to raise her hands but stopped when Jaison put a hand on her arm briefly. With a nod, they both aged the body until it collapsed into dust. They looked back as a swirl of wind picked up the dust. Ash and Terrence each held a hand out, directing the wind to carry the remains of their chieftain’s grandfather to the smoke hole in the ceiling, returning him to the land as he wished.
“Elder Nesaka,” Storm stated in the silence once the keening faded away. An older woman with a face lined with age rose, bowing to her. “The na’Zhekali require their place among the tribes to be cleared. We have brought our own shelter.”
She looked between her and Jaison. “For only two?” She drew back from the scowl Storm gave her.
“They,” she stated, indicating the other Dusvet Guardians, “are my tribe. The Githalin Su’alin and those with her will be our guests.” She turned her back on the shocked elders. “We will provide our own sustenance and shelter.”
“You do not trust us?” Nesaka demanded, her indignation faltering when Storm spun back on her.
“After what I had witnessed? No. I do not.” With that, she strode out as quickly as she had come. The others followed her at a slower pace.
“This does not bode well,” Ash stated in a low voice.
“Understand, Ash, She is putting the tribes on alert that we will be wary for treachery,” Skyfire stated. “After they broke the peace during the Time of Gathering, they must prove themselves worthy of trust to the Raging One Himself. The people have always considered her to be His representative, despite the fact she is no longer the only Githalin. She has born the mantle the longest of all of us.”
“And she is the one who most needs our help,” Terrence stated in a low voice, his eyes dark with worry.
The non-Desanti blinked as the Swordanzen erected the small pavilion they had brought with such speed, none of them had a chance to offer to help. “I will have to make sure I am watching next time. And remember not to blink,” Terrence commented with such droll tones, even Seeker cracked a smile.
“Do not feel badly. It does take longer when there is a wind storm,” Skyfire offered with conciliatory tones.
“Oh, like that helps us to feel better?” Taylin put her hands on her hips. “I have never felt more inadequate in my life!”
Storm moved with slow precision, focusing on projecting strength to eyes beyond their space’s borders as she headed inside the pavilion. “If you feel that way, perhaps you could make the evening meal for us instead.”
The other Desanti were surprised when the Sevmanan woman’s eyes lit up. “Okay! I know just what to make, too.”
“Oh! I want to help! Let me help, Mama!” Izkynder jumped up and down in excitement, Chitta squeaking as he struggled to hang onto the boy’s shirt. Taylin looked uncertain, biting her lip as she tried to find a way to deny her exuberant son.
Terrence chuckled. “I was thinking of heading over to the market and observing some of the culture. Anyone want to come with me?”
Taylin repressed her smile at Izkynder’s torn expression, and her relief. “Go on with Uncle Terrence, Izkynder. Don’t let Chitta give Petal any problems.”
“I’ll go as well.” Tyrsan lifted the boy up to sit on his shoulders. “See better up there?”
“Wow! I can see the whole world!” He bounced a little. The boy leaned over, concern creasing his face. “Maybe Lyra wants to be up here so she can see, too? Like how Uncle Ash and Aunt Storm ride drizar together.” He held his hand out to her. Tyrsan arched an eyebrow, looking up at the boy with a bemused smile touching his lips.
The fair woman’s cheeks turned deep red as she giggled. “No, thank you, Izkynder. I can see enough.” She looked to the Vodani woman. “Want to come along, Bella?”
“Oh, yes. All this industry makes me tired just watching it.” She waved over her shoulder as she joined the small group. “Have fun!”
Jaison’s smile fell once they had disappeared from sight. Star approached, putting a hand on his arm. “What is wrong, Dusvet? I have never seen such heartache as yours. It darkens your bright spirit.”
He looked away, shaking his head. “I wish there was something that could help Bella. She hides how much the loss of the use of her arm hurts her, but I know she aches watching everyone else and feeling herself a hindrance.”
Star frowned, watching Taylin and Mureln head behind the pavilion to help get the gear from the horses sheltered there. “Can the Dusvet Healer not help her? Her brother always spoke about how strong she was.”
“Taylin’s tried. It has nothing to do with her strength or skill.” Jaison shook his head, expression dismal. “Traitors to the Timeless One had used a time shifter to control Bella in an attempt to use her to kill Tyrsan and hide their identity. Then they poisoned her.” He clenched his fists. “We do not know if it was the crysalin arrowhead, the poisons, or something else, but Taylin has not been able to give her use of her arm back. From a physical standpoint, there is no reason it should be paralyzed still.”
“I see.” Star frowned in thought. “The traitors are gone?”
“As far as we know, yes. Skyfire’s abilities were a huge asset in rooting out any remaining threats hiding, but there is concern the dissent may arise again.” He shook his head to dislodge the train of thought and bowed to her. “Forgive me, Su’alin. I should help get the horses settled.”
“Of course, Dusvet Jaison.” She frowned as she considered, looking down the path the Vodani woman left on. Her attention was drawn to the bard and two master mages as they stepped out of the pavilion. Ash and Mureln caught their companion when his knees buckled. “Nolyn!”
The man gave her a wan smile as he reassured his lifemate. “I’m fine, Kiya. I just got a little light-headed, is all.”
Ash’s expression revealed his concern for his brother. “Taylin mended your wounds, but it takes time to recover your strength. Why don’t you stay here and get some rest while Mureln and I go see the market.”
Nolyn made a face. “I was rather wanting to get to know the Desanti people when they weren’t trying to kill me.”
Star put he
r hand on his arm. “The Time of Gathering lasts for many days. We can go together when you are stronger.”
He looked at her and offered her a strained smile. “Sure. I would like that.” He gave Ash a jaunty wave. “Don’t cause any trouble without me out there.”
“You’ll have nothing to worry about,” Mureln laughed, clapping his hand on Ash’s shoulder. “I have had years of practice keeping a pair of gypsies out of trouble. Ash will make it easy for me.” The mage rolled his eyes, shaking his head in amusement as he and the bard left. Nolyn’s smile fell, turning away and walking inside with Star by his side.
Windsong, who stood guard at the pavilion entrance, lifted the flap to peer inside. “Alanis na’Zhekali. You are needed.” Storm frowned a moment before schooling her features as she pushed herself to her feet.
The others traded puzzled looks. “‘Alanis’? Why would she use that title?” Taylin wondered.
“Because that is the role she is needed for,” Star replied as she tucked Laurel in a small bed. “Hopefully it will not wake Nolyn. He is still so exhausted.” She smiled at Izkynder. “Would you watch over her, please?”
He put his fist over his heart, much as he had seen the warriors do. “I will keep her safe, Aunt Star!” She put a hand on his shoulder to express her gratitude then followed the rest outside.
A line had formed at the edge of the space their tribe occupied. Storm stared for several moments. After Skyfire leaned forward to whisper in her ear, she nodded and beckoned. A trio of Desanti approached, one carrying a shallow basket. “What do you want?” she demanded in flat tones.
“Alanis na’Zhekali,” the older woman greeted as she bowed. The two accompanying her mimicked her gesture. “We wish to honor the tribe of Elder Verris.” She gestured to the boy with the basket. He stepped forward, knelt, and lifted the piece of hide that covered a collection of bone knives. “A gift to you and your tlisan.”