Sin and Soil

by Anya Merchant

  She had the same lean, athletic build common to most of the Rem, perhaps an inch or two taller than Damon, and she was clad in a spiral tunic made of viridian weave leaf. It was a flexible fabric which allowed the various, tantalizing slips running horizontal across the garment to stretch and widen while remaining more or less in place.

  Her hair was mid-length and wispy black, with a single lock of silver in the front that represented the beginning of an eventual shift to a green-grey hue natural for adult Rem in their prime. Her eyes were a beautiful violet hue, a fact which Damon knew without needing to see them open.

  “Ria!” Vel let out a worried gasp and went to the other woman’s side immediately, gently touching her hands first to her face, and then to her neck.

  “Is she breathing?” asked Damon.

  “Yes, but…”

  “Step back.” He crouched down, taking Ria’s face and quickly scanning for any obvious injuries. Finding none, he gave her arm a gentle shake, whispering her name once more. “Ria. Can you hear me?”

  There was no reply. Damon chewed his lip and glanced one last time in the direction their original prey had disappeared off into before scooping Ria into his arms and turning to head back toward the farm.

  CHAPTER 26

  By the time they made it through the forest, Damon’s muscles were burning from the exertion of carrying Ria. She wasn’t heavy, certainly not compared to a Merinian of a similar size, but he and Vel had traveled far deeper into the Malagantyan than he’d realized.

  Malon was by the edge of the lake filling a pot with water. Her eyes widened when she saw them before setting back into the serious, authoritative expression that times of crisis so often brought out of her.

  “Solas, set her down in your room,” said Malon. “Seta, put another log on the fire and look for clean towel cloths in the pantry.”

  Damon and Vel nodded and hurried inside. He set Ria down in his own bed, feeling a bit annoyed at himself for not tidying it up after he’d last slept in it. She let out a quiet groan and muttered something inaudible as he pulled her shoes off and covered her with the quilt.

  Appearance wise, she looked near to how Damon remembered her from their last meeting. Her face was thin and slightly tanned, with high cheekbones and, at least by Merinian beauty standards, long, exotic eyelashes.

  The more important detail was that her face was still free of traditional Remenai facial tattoos. Ria had never known her birth mother, and her lack of even the basic clan patterns meant that she must have died while Ria was still extremely young, or at least been an outcast when she’d given birth to Ria.

  It had always been a sore spot for her, one that she’d never learn to nurse in healthy, mature ways, at least up until when Damon had last seen her. He reached a hand out, gently cupping her face, smiling with relief at the fact that she had come back at least one more time.

  Ria’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on him tiredly after a moment. Damon watched a coy smile blossom on her face, along with clear recognition of who she was with and where she currently was.

  “Young Damon,” she said, softly. “When did you become a man?”

  Damon snorted, grinning back at her. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Ria? I’m surprised you even recognize me.”

  “Velanor did not?” asked Ria.

  He shrugged awkwardly. “It’s a bit complicated.”

  “Why am I not of surprise?” She licked her lips, pushing up onto her elbows, and gestured toward him with a curling finger. “Come hither, Damon.”

  “Ria…” He rolled his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush as memories of how affectionate, both physically and emotionally, she’d always been.

  “I need a view of a proper perspective,” she whispered. “You have a man’s face. Your muscles seem to also suggest that you are of a Merinian man’s proper strength.”

  “I appreciate the fact that you noticed.” He moved closer to her, dropping to one knee beside the bed. “They’re the result of long hours of training over the course of the past few years.”

  “You achieved your ideal, then?” Ria brushed some of his hair back from his face and pursed her lips. “You are of the Merinian warrior dancers now, Damon?”

  “You’re putting it on a bit thick with your accent,” he said. “I know that you know what gladiators are. It’s not a dance.”

  “It may not be, but I would not call it true combat, either,” she said. “But I mean no offense. In fact, I wish for you to show me some of your moves. When we get a chance to be alone, that is.”

  She gave him a sly wink with enough blatant suggestion in it to leave him completely tongue tied. Ria had always teased him in similar ways.

  She’d called him to the edge of the lake while bathing naked numerous times and often spied on him when it was his turn, which had left him abashed and frustrated during his pubescent years when he’d still been figuring his own body out.

  The fact that they were both adults, five years apart in age and ten years removed from seeing one another, seemed to threaten to turn the sparks of those flirtations into an outright wildfire. A wildfire not unlike one of the Malagantyan infernos that swept through the forest and left new fertility in its destructive wake.

  Damon stared at her, suddenly imbued with an acute awareness of how the soft rise and fall of her chest moved her moderately sized breasts against the stretchy fabric of her spiral tunic. The room felt overheated, but in a contrary manner that demanded him to get closer to her and feel her warmth against him.

  “Seta.”

  Malon’s voice shattered through the collected tension. She stood in the doorway, holding a pot of freshly warmed water. Vel was a step behind her, carrying clean towel cloths and frowning anxiously.

  “Malon,” said Ria.

  Damon couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard Ria address Malon as aesta, even though the entire reason Malon had started using the Remenai terms of endearment in the beginning was to help Ria connect to her native people’s culture. It twisted his heart strings into familiar knots, but it was far from unexpected.

  “Are you injured?” asked Malon.

  “Exhausted and undernourished, certainly, but no, I am not injured.” Ria let out a tired sigh and folded her arms. “My life has been of constant danger for the past few weeks. I am beyond lucky to have been found by Damon.”

  “Danger from what?” asked Malon.

  Ria made a dismissive gesture with her hand and furrowed her brow. “It matters not. Were you preparing dinner before I arrived? My hunger is overwhelming.”

  Damon knew that Ria’s habit of dismissing Malon’s concerns, oftentimes through changing the subject, had always been one of their aesta’s biggest pet peeves. Tonight, she simply gave Ria a slow nod, passing the pot of warm water to Vel and wordlessly excusing herself to the common room.

  “Ria,” said Vel, hurrying over. “I was so worried! Why you can’t you just stay at the farm? Or even in Morotai?”

  “Young Velenor,” said Ria, smiling with deep affection. “Why can you not stay at the farm? Why must you run off and be a woman of courtly ritual?”

  Vel dipped a towel cloth into the water and began wiping a spot of dirt from Ria’s face. “That’s not even close to being the same.”

  “Is it not?”

  Vel rolled her eyes, though the brattiness of the gesture was undercut by the fondness in her smile. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, then. I’m just glad that you’re home.”

  “This is not my…”

  Damon cleared his throat and gave her a look. Ria had always been good at reading his not so subtle clues and pokes.

  “Yes,” she said, nodding to Vel. “For now, I suppose I agree. It is good to be of this place once more, though it may be for just a time.”

  “Where have you been, Ria?” asked Vel. “I understand your reasons for not telling aesta, but surely you can trust me? I’ll keep your secrets to myself.”

  “I trust you beyond all, Velano
r.” Ria reached her hand out, stroking Vel’s loose blonde hair even as Vel continued cleaning her face. “Come here.”

  She opened her arms, sweeping Vel into a hug. Damon felt a stupid grin spread across his face as a level of vicarious affection that he couldn’t remember outside of childhood swelled within him.

  “You too, Damon,” said Ria. “To have all of us together again under the same roof… It is of Jad’s trusted will.”

  He joined them both on the bed, feeling their soft bodies press into his as the three orphans committed to the hug. He could identify their separate smells, Vel’s understated perfume and expensive soap, Ria’s musky, grassy, outdoor freshness.

  “Damon,” said Vel. “I just realized that Ria being back leaves you with nowhere to sleep tonight, now that her old bed has been moved out of your room.”

  “She makes a valid point, young Damon,” cooed Ria, with a wry smile. “Just where will you sleep tonight?”

  CHAPTER 27

  “Dinner is ready,” called Malon.

  Damon was first into the common room, taking a seat at the table and marveling at the array of food that Malon had prepared. She’d gotten fresh meat from Morotai, thick beef flank steaks exquisitely seasoned with salt and pepper, but there were also vegetables, roasted carrots, potatoes, and steamed kale cabbage.

  She’d taken out a bottle of waterfruit wine and apparently discarded her reservations about Vel drinking, either intentionally or by accident of distraction. Four full glasses were set at each place at the table, and a smile blossomed on Malon’s face as she saw Damon enter the room, followed closely behind by Vel, who’d lent the still weakened Ria a shoulder to lean on.

  “There’s more than enough for all of us,” said Malon. “Please, sit. Eat.”

  “Gladly,” said Damon.

  He immediately started loading his plate up. Vel joined him, as did Ria, with a measure of reluctance. The steaks were cooked perfectly, and the vegetables were grilled to ideal tenderness without veering into burnt or mushy territory.

  “It means so much to me to have the three of you back,” said Malon. “We have a great deal to discuss. It’s difficult to know where to begin.”

  “Oh, I suspect I know of where you will start,” said Ria, voice challenging, almost snide.

  Malon’s expression grew stern, though there was an upsurge of carefully controlled emotion visible underneath the otherwise stony mask. “Don’t test me, seta. You aren’t wrong, but neither am I for having questions.”

  “When have you ever not had them?” Ria leaned back in her chair, running a finger in a habitual pattern along the edge of her chin. “Question after question. You ask so much, Malon. Quite curious how averse you are to being of answers in return.”

  “Ria…” said Malon. “Who was chasing you? I know you aren’t interested in having me worry about you, but if there are new dangers within the forest, I need to know for the sake of the people here.”

  “The people here?” Ria raised an eyebrow. “The Merinian colonizers, you mean?”

  Malon said nothing, but she didn’t look away, either.

  “You have always been reliant on your instincts,” said Ria. “If I am of anything in your stead, it is of that.”

  “Ria…” said Malon.

  “No!” Ria bumped the table as she stood up. “I will not pretend any longer, Malon. I know the truth about you, and they deserve to know it, too. They deserve to know why I left!”

  Damon had seen enough arguments between Ria and Malon before to differentiate between her natural rebelliousness and when she actually had a point. He watched Ria now, reading both the accusation and anger in her voice, and he took her words seriously.

  “Say what you need to say,” said Malon.

  “You are no mere Merinian farm holder,” said Ria. “You have not been for years. You are a woman of secrets. A woman of danger. One of the venmalani. Show them the truth, Malon!”

  She stabbed a finger at the woman who she no longer called her aesta, face set into a furious, borderline hurt, expression.

  “Ria,” said Damon. “We know about her crest. That’s what you mean, isn’t it? Venmalani… That’s the Remenai word for a sorcerer.”

  “She told us,” agreed Vel. Her anxiety was open on her face, and she glanced nervously between Ria and Malon.

  “Do you understand what it means to sign a contract with one of Venmalese, the Forsaken, as they are called by the Merinians?” asked Ria. “She is a tool. A pawn of ancient evil. If ordered, she would kill any of us in this room, and there are those out there who would torture and kill us just as quickly to be of an understanding to her location and her master’s weaknesses.”

  Damon felt the hairs on the back of his arm standup up, and a sudden snap of static from the movement of one of Vel’s locks of hair confirmed that it wasn’t a physical reaction.

  Ria was a spellblood, a tempester, capable of drawing and commanding lightning energy. Her talents had been minor when Damon had last seen her, but he could sense how much stronger she’d grown in the time since.

  “Ria,” said Malon, in a quiet voice. “Seta. You aren’t wrong, but neither do you have the full truth. The Divine Remnants are not universally evil. Their motives and intentions vary much as those of any woman or man to another person. The service I pledge to Lascivious is related to fertility and growth, to stemming chaos among cultures and realms rather than creating it.”

  “Bah!” Ria slapped a hand down on the table hard enough to shake the cutlery. “You would claim that regardless whether it was of truth. How can you expect me, expect anyone, to trust your word when—”

  “You are not just anyone, seta,” whispered Malon. “It is why I wished for your return. Why I summoned Velanor back, and was about to send for Damon, as well. I trust the three of you with my secrets, with my life, and in essence, the future of the Malagantyan and Veridan’s Curve.”

  A silence held in the wake of her words, though it was created by different reasons for each of them. Malon seemed content to let her statement sink in. Vel looked confused and more than a little anxious. Ria’s expression and posture had become an interesting shade of contemplation, brooding but serious.

  Damon was mostly just hungry. He cut into his steak, taking a bite and savoring the taste even as the noise of his eating drew looks from the others.

  “I might have to look into buying a new sword,” he said. “I get the sense there’s going to be a great deal of fighting in the near future. Speaking of which… Ria, would you care to finally tell us how you ended up where we found you?”

  Ria sighed and gave him a reluctant, tired smile. “For you, young Damon, I suppose I can be of words. It is far from as dramatic of a revelation as the one Malon has graced the table with. A group of outcast Rem, complete with banishment marks, was stirring up trouble among the peaceable clans. I defended one such group and became among their targets.”

  “Banishment marks…” said Damon. “Were there any Merinians among them?”

  “A few, though that is not uncommon.”

  “Was there a Rem with a crest?” he asked. “A man named—”

  “Shank,” interrupted Ria. “Yes. He was their leader. He made me an offer to surrender and become one of them, which I, for good reason, refused.”

  “He isn’t just in the area to harass you, Ria,” said Damon. “He works in Veridan’s Curve on occasion. He’s been hired to collect one of my father’s debts. I fought him in Morotai.”

  His hand reflexively went to the injury on his shoulder.

  Ria made a curious face, lips pursing and pulling sideways. “I am unsurprised to find us with a mutual foe. It appears the time has come for us to fight at the side of one another, Damon. We should do what we can to begin becoming of synergy.”

  Her eyes burned with a mixture of passions, for battle and for something else. Damon held her gaze until the silence became heavy enough for him to realize how awkward it must be for Malon and Vel.

>   “How about the two of you, all of us, really, take some time to rest?” suggested Vel. “Malon is still tired from using her abilities in Morotai. Damon, the wound on your shoulder has only barely begun to close up. And Ria…”

  “You make a good point, seta,” said Malon. “Can we all agree to that?”

  She spoke to the table, but her words were clearly for Ria.

  “You will find no resistance from me, Malon,” said Ria. “At least for now, on this.”

  “Damon,” said Vel. “Do you have any good gladiator stories you could tell?”

  “Hundreds.” He grinned, and in between mouthfuls of succulent beef and roasted vegetables he broke into the tale of the first time he’d ever had to finish a fight with a broken weapon, improvising the end of the bout with comical results.

  Ria took up the role of storyteller as soon as he finished. She spoke of her travels through the deeper regions of the Malagantyan, places still untouched by the tendrils of Merinian colonization.

  “As the three of you know better than any, I am of no clan,” said Ria. “It means that I have no people to call my own, but no natural enemies, by that same draw. Many clans were willing to speak to me, or even share food and fire, as long as I presented peacefully.

  “The Tellandrius clan, across the Hidden Gorge far to the north-east, have a monthly ritual in which they…” She cleared her throat meaningfully. “…share one another. In a deep sense, of bodies and lust.”

  “Were you there for it?” asked Damon.

  Ria nodded, flashing a dangerous smirk. “But of course. I would not know of it, had I not been. Still, I was not of them, and while most were content to have me watch, few deigned to invite me to join. There was one woman, however. Older, already green of hair, and unexpectedly, a fellow spellblood, a tempester, like myself.”

  Damon realized he was leaning forward against the table. “Go on…”

  “Oh, it would not be of polite discussion, I think,” she said, eyes flicking toward Vel and Malon, who both looked degrees of uncomfortable. “Let me just say that I learned much from her. Perhaps I will visit again and see if I am more welcome during their next ritual.”