by Lexy Wolfe
“There was a hidden oasis two days in this direction,” Storm stated. “If sandstorms have not buried it since I was gone. I used to recluse there often.” She told the other Githalin, “You will sense it either way when we get near. It has a unique voice.” In agreement, the group fell into a line to follow Seeker’s drizzen.
Jaison rode up on Storm’s other side. “Storm, Ash.” Worry filled the man’s expression. “What should I do? Most of the reason I am here is to become a Desanti adult. But I don’t want to leave the tribe less one warrior.”
Storm managed a wan smile. “If you feel the call, go. We have bayuli-volsha and the temporal lenses to communicate so you will not be separated for long.”
Ash smiled in reassurance. “It will be fine. We will make camp and wait for your return when the time comes. I cannot imagine it will take long for you to earn your name.” Jaison nodded, not arguing, but uneasy nevertheless.
The drizzen milled about, eagerly eating the dried rolling weeds caught in the deep, rocky pass’s crevices. The group stared up at the sheer wall that rose higher than some of the oldest trees in Forenta.
Terrence dismounted, walking over to put a hand on the rock. “I cannot see anything, but I feel…something. It is hard to describe.” His expression winced a little as Dzee whispered in his mind. He blinked and looked back at the Desanti. “I knew your people could see life energy. But feel it like this? Your skin must have been crawling when you left Desantiva.”
“It took time to get accustomed to, but yes.” Skyfire smiled faintly. “It was agitating.” Storm snorted at his understatement. He looked at her. “But how could even the tribes miss this? This sensation is so strong!”
“Because its sister is just beyond this chasm. Once they discovered that one, they have assumed what they sensed is that one.” She closed her eyes, the lines of tension betraying how her impaired senses bothered her. “As Swordanzen, you may have noticed the difference, but not really the direction. As Githalin, its voice is as distinct as each of our voices.”
Taylin looked at the sheer wall. “But how are we supposed to reach it?” She yelped when the drizar sprang up and clung to the wall.
Storm glanced over her shoulder as she hugged her mount’s neck. “Trust the drizzen. Though tying the straps on your saddles around your waists will help when even trust can’t stop the wind.” As they began scaling the sheer rock face, the pack animals and few unridden youngsters followed.
Ash shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched. “I am reminded yet again why my lifemate’s land is mildly terrifying.” Securing the belt around himself, he thumped his mount’s neck. “Forgive me my nerves. I trust you. It’s the rock and wind I am dubious about.” The animal bared its teeth as if understanding him, then crouched and sprang up to cling to the wall.
Taylin was sickly pale. “I can’t…” she stammered.
Mureln put his hand on her arm. “Wrap a scarf around your eyes so you do not need to see, beloved. Izkynder will be fine with me.”
The boy stood up behind his mother, leaning over her shoulder to hug her tightly. “Be good, Mama,” he whispered in her ear. She managed a smile, patting him before letting him jump over to his father and blindfolding herself.
They noticed the drizzen were not climbing all the way to the top, disappearing somewhere along the upper third. Before all of them reached their goal, a deep rumble preceded the ground shaking. The few drizzen still on the wall made sounds of alarm, trying to dig into the rock to secure holds growing precarious. Mureln, near the bottom of the climbers, closed his eyes and began singing.
Strong, hot winds whipped around those clinging to the rock face, pushing humans and drizzen from beneath and behind, helping keep them in place. When the shaking passed, the beasts climbed faster. The bard’s hold on his mount weakened in sudden exhaustion.
When Mureln fell unconscious and started to lean back, Izkynder fearlessly turned in the saddle, grabbing his father’s tunic with one hand and the drizzen’s mane with the other. “Papa! Wake up!” he screamed, trying to rouse the man. Even Chitta dug his claws into the man’s travel robe and flapped his tiny wings as hard as he could to pull him back. The animal shrilled in distress, clinging to the rock but unable to do more to shift the man’s balance.
Taylin yanked her blindfold off, looking below with her heart in her throat. “Mureln! Izkynder!”
The Desanti looked startled when Lyra tossed the end of a rope at them, knotting the other end around herself. Kicking off her shoes, she shimmied over the edge of the cavern-mouth ledge they had reached and scaled the sheer face down to the distressed trio. She grabbed Mureln’s shoulder as the boy climbed onto her back.
The brothers together anchored the slight woman. “She moves like a spider,” Seeker observed, his expression shocked. “I have never seen anyone climb like that.”
Lyra glanced up as Mureln’s drizzen put its foot over the rope to allow her to let go with her hands and not lose her footing. She managed a smile, patting its shoulder. “Thank you.” Carefully, she took a spare bowstring and looped it through the strap that held his mandolin on his back, then tied it to a hook on the saddle, securing him against the animal’s neck. “There. That should do it.”
Izkynder tightened his arms around the slight woman. “Thank you, Aunt Lyra.”
She smiled at him. “Just hold still so I don’t lose my footing.” She looked at the drizzen. “Go. I’ll stay with you in case he shifts again.” The beast chuffed and resumed scaling the wall. When they reached the top, the beast held still while the others helped the bard down. When he was down, she went to Lyra and nuzzled her as the blond woman sat on the lip of the ledge, hugging Izkynder in relief.
“Sorry…for worrying everyone,” Mureln said after taking a drink from one of the Swordanzen’s water skins. “I don’t often…perform weather wisdom feats. Not one of my strengths. But it was the only way I could think to keep the drizzen from falling.” He leaned against Taylin, closing his eyes for a moment. “More than a little out of practice.” He smiled when she held him tighter. “Sorry, beloved.”
“I’m just glad you and our son are okay.” She hugged the boy when he wrapped his arms around her neck. “You were very brave, Izkynder.”
The boy trembled. “Why am I more scared now? I don’t want to be weak. I want to be strong like Aunt Storm.”
Storm knelt by him, resting her hand on his back. “It is not about not being afraid. It is about not letting it control you.” She kissed the top of his head. “It takes time and practice. You didn’t let it make you panic when there was danger. You kept your father from falling until help reached you. You could not be a better na’Zhekali.” She kissed the top of his head again. “Let yourself feel it now so it will not linger overlong in your heart.”
Jaison stared into the distance. “I never knew how much of an effort my mother put forth with her talents.” He clasped the clear blood crystal he wore, closing his eyes. “She made it seem so easy.”
Seeker crouched by the ledge, gazing into the distance. “I understand how this oasis has remained so hidden now. You cannot see this opening from below and it isn’t visible from any other vantage point out there. I doubt any tribal scout would risk themselves to climb high enough to find this entrance, much less going to the top.” He looked at Storm. “I am not looking forward to the climb down.”
“There is a different path out.” She put a hand on the drizar’s jaw, nuzzling his cheek a moment. “Come. We should make camp. Since we have provisions, we can remain here longer if we must. It will not tax the oasis to support us.”
THE GROUP EMERGED from the winding tunnel into a dormant volcano’s caldera. Even the Desanti stood dumbstruck, moving only when their drizzen nudged their backs to follow Storm and the drizar down a haphazard ramp of fallen boulders. In the center of a massive lake was a small, round island capped with green. Creatures flew around the trees and into the water, pulling out long, slender fish in their claws.<
br />
Ash looked at his lifemate. “I thought you said you had never seen water as deep as where the ship that took us north docked.”
She glanced sidelong at him. “Do you think I ever went into that?” Her hand waved toward the lake. “It is shallow along the edge. At most, I stood no deeper than where it reached my ankles. I never saw deeper by standing over top it like over the side of the ship.”
“Chitta!” Izkynder called when his tiny, ruby-colored companion flew away, reaching out but unable to catch him. “Come back!”
“Petal find!” the small forest sprite called, winging away from Terrence with a shrill song.
The young mage crossed his arms. “You could have just said you wanted to stretch your wings,” he complained, rubbing his temples.
“Storm, where is a good place for us to camp?” Ash asked. “I know you told us no others come here, but I do not wish to disturb the life here if possible.”
With a tired, appreciative smile, the young woman pointed to a nearly overgrown path. “There are caves over here we can take shelter in.” She looked drawn, leaning on the drizar and closing her eyes. They popped open when Ash swept her into his arms. “I can walk!”
“And I can carry you. You are pushing yourself too hard to prove you are not weak.” He paused to meet her eyes. “Beloved, you are not weak. I don’t know many others who could endure the stresses you are right now.” He murmured for her ears alone. “I wish you did not have to.” A wash of gratitude flooded through him when she forewent any further argument and simply put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.
“Master,” Marcus called. He jumped when the three Swordanzen who were not Githalin startled, half drawing their weapons. “I am sorry?” he offered in timid tones.
Windsong dismissed his apology. “Do not be. You are very good at blending in that we forget you are there. A trait you should hone.” Her eyes followed the flight of several birds with slender bodies, wings that were narrow and curved, and short, split tails. “It serves you well.”
Nolyn chuckled. “What is it, Marcus?”
“I found something.” He brushed his hand over a flat rock to reveal an embedded gold emblem. “What is it?”
“No idea,” the mage replied. “Seeker! Come see this.” When he and Star joined the two mages, both blinked at the symbol. “Do you know what this is?”
The siblings traded unreadable expressions before they both shook their heads. “We do not. Nor do our Totani.”
Star knelt, light fingers tracing the design. “It looks…familiar somehow. Perhaps Githalin Storm knows?”
Nolyn held up his hands as he stood. “We can ask after everyone’s gotten some rest. I doubt this is going anywhere.” The others nodded in agreement, following the rest into the thicker greenery.
The cavern appeared more like a wide slice taken out of the wall of rock, open to look out on the ancient caldera. It provided enough room for the drizzen herd to have space as well as for the humans to camp without need of putting up the pavilion. Given there was no need to post a human guard with the animals in various states of wakefulness, the adults took the opportunity to rest at the same time.
That left Marcus and Izkynder awake before the others roused. The apprentice mage watched the boy for several minutes then joined him at the edge of the cavern floor where he squatted, gazing outside. “What is the matter?”
“I want Chitta back!” He crossed his arms. “He is the only one almost my age and just as weird.”
Marcus tilted his head. “I told you before. You aren’t weird.”
Izkynder looked at him sideways. “How old are you?”
“Me? I’m thirteen. How old are you?” he returned out of habit. Izkynder held up two fingers. Marcus opened his mouth, then shut it again, looking to where Nolyn and Star slept together with their daughter Laurel. “Wow. Is Laurel going to grow up that fast?”
The youngster turned his scowl back toward the caldera. “I doubt it. Her parents aren’t Guardians of Time.” He added, “Right now. Maybe they will be one day. I don’t know.” He heaved a sigh and held out the deep maroon blood crystal he wore. “Aunt Storm and Uncle Skyfire knew if Mama had to use her special healing to help Almek, it could hurt both of us. So they protected me. They still do.” He dropped the pendant and hugged his knees. “They nearly died to keep Mama and I safe.”
“I read some of Master Terrence’s journals. I am not really surprised. Desanti are very protective. At least, the good ones.” He ducked when Izkynder stood up, waving his arms wide.
“I grow up as fast as I want to. No one else can do that. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I want to be useful and being a little kid…well, it’s pretty useless.”
Marcus made a musing sound. “Yeah. I can’t argue with that. Almost every kid I know wants to grow up faster. But almost every adult I have ever known also says they wish they hadn’t. And they all grow up at normal rates. It’s very confusing.”
Izkynder dropped back into his squat, hugging his knees. “Chitta is my friend. Aunt Storm made him when a mean Guardian wanted her to kill what he used to be, and she changed him to what his kind here became instead.” Marcus stared at him. “Because Swordanzen don’t kill without need.”
“No, no. I know that part. Swordanzen Seeker explained that to me back in Forenta.” Marcus looked back. “She did magic?”
“Time magic. I think. Desantiva had to get all twisted up so not everything died.” The boy perked up when he spotted a flash of red in the foliage. “Chitta!” He hopped down the rocks to give chase. “Chitta, come back!” Marcus belatedly tried to grab him, but missed. He looked back at the sleeping adults, made a face, and chased after Izkynder.
“IZKYNDER, COME ON! We’re going to get in trouble if we don’t get back to camp,” Marcus hissed. He pushed large fronds out of his face as he tried to catch up to the much smaller boy. Without warning, the boy stopped. Unprepared, Marcus fell over him, both falling to the ground. “Hey, why did you…?”
His voice drifted off when he looked up, nose to nose with a blunt-muzzled reptilian with gold scales and sapphire blue eyes. “Oh.” The creature’s lips peeled back to bare vicious teeth, a deep growl resonating in its chest. Marcus cringed, holding up an arm in a futile attempt to protect his face.
Fearlessly, Izkynder stood up and smacked the feline-like beast on the nose. “Hey! You stop that!” The reptilian drew back like a cat being scolded, hissing and long tail lashing, its posture defensive. He put his hands on his hips. “Meanie.”
Marcus hid behind the much smaller boy. “How did you do that?” he whispered.
Before Izkynder could reply, the wind started whipping around them. Vines shivered and fell off a rust red column of stone. The boys clasped each other’s hands tight as a ghostly figure emerged from the column, scowling at the two. His ebony hair was streaked with gold and copper strands.
“Hiya, Ghost! You have hair almost like mine. Are you a na’Zhekali, too?” Izkynder asked with wide-eyed curiosity.
The ghostly figure’s scowl deepened. ‘Too?’ You are na’Zhekali?
“A ghost?” Marcus squeaked.
“You can see him?” Izkynder appeared confused, then looked at their clasped hands. “Ooo. I didn’t know I could do that!” The boy turned a bright smile up at the angry apparition. “Hi! I’m Izkynder na’Zhekali and this is my friend Marcus. He isn’t a na’Zhekali, but he’s the apprentice of the spirit brother of one of our Alanis.” He crossed his eyes. “Wow, that’s complicated to explain!” Looking back up at the ghost, he asked, “Who are you?”
I am Warrior Quinn na’Zhekali, son of Zhekali and Avarian, he stated with a puffed out chest. You have met my tigrin guardian Garst. In the silence that followed, his stern officiousness changed to reflect a youthful confusion. What are you doing here? Nobody comes here.
“Oh, my tribe is taking shelter here until we can figure out how to get to the Rumblelands.”
Quinn’s
expression reflected shock. He slowly sat down on the ground and crossed his legs, an unspoken invitation for the two boys to join him. There are na’Zhekali again? I thought they were all gone but for one who became Swordanzen, so I couldn’t feel her anymore. She would come here sometimes. She couldn’t see or hear me, of course. I liked feeling like I was protecting her, but the spirits whispered that she had left Desantiva. She has returned home?
NOLYN FROWNED, HANDS on his hips. “Marcus!” He grumbled as Star put a consoling hand over his heart. “I know he knows better than to run off when we are in unfamiliar territory, no matter how ‘safe’ this place might be.”
“Perhaps he is with Izkynder,” the slight woman said, looking at the others spread out through the greenery near the shelter, searching. “Izkynder has been very worried about his missing chitan. Maybe he went looking and Marcus went with to keep him safe. Though why the tribal bond isn’t helping any of the anxiety…”
Ash managed a wan chuckle. “Since the dawn of the na’Zhekali tribe, being able to hide from divine eyes and mortal bonds is as natural as breathing. He may well be hiding because he thinks he is in trouble.”
Nolyn sighed gustily. “I think it is too late to avoid a scolding.” Ash only grunted his agreement.
Taylin’s worry had grown into panic. “Izkynder!” She buried her face in Mureln’s chest when he wrapped his arms around her, quietly hushing his wife. “What if something happened to him and he-he…”
“Stop, beloved. He is a clever boy. I am sure he is fine.” He closed his eyes, his words trying to convince himself as much as her. “We would have felt something through the tribal bond if—” The na’Zhekali all reacted at once, briefly alarmed, then confused. “What in the world was that?”