“I guess you outcast types aren’t as strong and hardy as you look,” Farah said, standing up and starting back down the outcropping.
Gavin stared after her, a retort half formed on his lips, then dismissed it as the sound of her soft laugh drifted up to him. She had such a pretty laugh.
* * *
The sun was beginning to vanish behind the far Forbiddence wall by the time they reached the cave Farah had mentioned earlier. Talyshan and Nabil landed on a narrow ledge that jutted out in front of the cave like a small platform with irritated shrieks. Gavin craned his neck to look up toward the top of the wall, but couldn’t see where it ended.
He’d never been this close to the Forbiddence, few ever were, though it was always there, in the back of people’s minds. The Forbiddence itself was so different from the rest of the Sharani Desert. A darker, almost black rock that reached for the sky, the tip was lost from view, even from where they stood a hundred spans from the desert floor. It was thought to be a sheer, impassable expanse, though they’d also said that about the Oasis walls. Gavin had proven that particular belief false.
But this? Gavin shook his head as Farah dismounted and scurried into the cave. This wasn’t even in the same realm as the Oasis walls. These really were impassible.
Gavin unhooked and slid from the saddle, landing more gracefully this time. He stood upright and patted Nabil as he walked passed. Nabil shuffled away from his touch.
Though Gavin and Farah hadn’t spotted any signs of Kaiden or any other signs of life during their flight, Gavin felt like he’d accomplished a lot already. The stress and cares that had been piling on him were only a peripheral concern now. He’d come to terms with his own failure while on Nabil’s back and, though it had only been a few short hours since he’d first mounted the aevian, felt a deep, powerful connection with the animal.
Nabil and Talyshan hissed and shuffled awkwardly near him. Gavin stepped to one side, careful to avoid the pair.
“Is there something in there?” Gavin asked, glancing out over the sands just to make sure there wasn’t anything behind them. “The aevians are acting odd.”
“It’s the Forbiddence,” Farah said. “They don’t like it very much. It’s one of the reasons we’re here. Khari figured Kaiden would go to the one place the aevians don’t like going.”
Gavin frowned and looked up at the walls again. It was kind of . . . forbidding.
“You coming?” Farah called to him. Her voice echoed oddly as she entered the cave.
Gavin entered the cave and, for a moment, saw nothing. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and just then, Farah succeeded in lighting the lantern and the sudden light blinded him.
“A little warning next time,” Gavin said as his eyes watered.
Farah shook her head, light from the lantern glinting off the two small earrings on the upper part of her left ear.
“Sorry, water boy.” She placed the glass hood over the flame and the light increased noticeably.
The lantern light illuminated the area immediately around them, and what Gavin had originally taken to be a shallow cave resolved into a cavernous chamber large enough to house a score of people comfortably. The chamber was nearly thirty feet deep and just as tall, and there were a couple of alcoves cut into the rock in which blankets were resting, and several stone benches and ceramic containers resting throughout the room. It was clearly a place where the patrols frequently visited.
“This is what you call a small cave?” Gavin asked.
Farah smiled at him, then whistled a soft series of sharp notes. The aevians bustled into the room and headed to one side of the cavern, the awkward way they walked a stark contrast to the stunning grace with which they flew. Gavin walked deeper into the cave to let them pass. Farah set the lantern on one of the stone benches and walked over to take the saddle off Talyshan.
Gavin felt the fool for not thinking about it, but covered his embarrassment by hurrying over to Nabil to do the same. Thankfully, he remembered what straps came loose and which stayed where they were. He was a little surprised to realize how much he didn’t want to continue embarrassing himself in front of Farah. Once free, Gavin laid the saddle out on one of the benches, as he’d seen Farah do with Talyshan’s. He gave it one last pat to clear off some dust, then turned around.
Farah was in the process of stripping out of her clothes. Her robes and harness already lay in a neat pile next to the saddle on the stone bench. She stood, back to him, clad only in a thin, sleeveless undershirt and a pair of skin-tight leggings that cut off above the knee. There was a tattoo of some sort of flower on her right shoulder blade.
Gavin realized he was staring and quickly turned away. His grandmother had often slept in her underclothes on the hotter nights, like this one, but this was different. Farah must have noticed his awkward discomfort because she laughed softly.
“You’re a strange man, Gavin,” Farah said. “You can turn around now. I’m covered.”
Gavin turned back around, ready to close his eyes if necessary. Farah was already under the blanket in one of the alcoves, covered up to the neck despite the heat. Her waterskin rested under her head as an improvised pillow.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy what he’d seen, far from it, but he’d been raised to give women the respect they deserved. That flew in the face of what Gavin knew about how the Rahuli thought about women, but it was how Gavin himself had been raised. And, though Gavin could barely admit it, even to himself, he wanted Farah to respect him as much as he was starting to respect and care for her.
“You do realize that all the Roterralar women sleep in clothes like this, right?” Farah asked, grinning. “It’s not as if I’m getting ready to take a bath or anything. I’m getting ready to sleep.”
Bath? Gavin had never had an actual bath before, not intentionally at least. He felt his cheeks redden at the thought.
“Outcasts don’t have those luxuries,” Gavin said, glancing over at her.
She was watching him, an odd expression on her face. Gavin had to work hard not to fidget under the scrutiny.
“You’re so strange,” she said after a long, awkward silence. “There’s no need to set a watch. Get some sleep. We’ll head out at first light.” She turned over, leaving her back facing him.
Gavin ran a hand through his dusty hair and made himself ready for bed as well. He kept his robes on—he’d slept in worse—and used the blanket in an alcove a little ways away from Farah as a pillow. It was a long time before he drifted off to sleep.
* * *
He came awake some indeterminate time later. For a brief moment, he hovered in the momentary delirium of partial alertness, then his mind caught up with the rest of him and he tried to figure out what had caused him to wake up. The soft patter of rain sounded just outside the cave’s entrance, droplets hitting the stone with the crackling sound of cooking meat. There was no thunder, though, so the noise, though uncommon, wouldn’t normally have been enough to wake him.
A soft sound broke through the noise of rain. Gavin sat up slightly, listening. It came again, and this time Gavin was able to determine it was coming from inside the cave rather than out of it. For a moment, he thought it must be one of the aevians, then realized it was coming from the direction of Farah’s alcove.
“What in the sands?” Gavin whispered.
He walked over, stepping carefully in the darkness. The lamp had gone out earlier, so the only light was a faint glow from the moon and stars shining down through the rainclouds. It gave him just enough light to be jumpy about the darker, shifting shadows inside the nearly black omnipresence. As he got closer, he could pick out the shape of the sounds—words. Farah was muttering and crying out in her sleep.
“No,” she mumbled, clearly still within the grips of slumber. “No, don’t die. I’m here, I’m here, mother. You can’t die. No, not now.”
Gavin froze, hand half outstretched toward her. Mother? Khari had said that Farah’s famil
y had died in the battle of the Oasis, killed by the genesauri while Farah was fighting. Was she reliving that experience again, only in nightmare? Gavin didn’t know which was worse, experiencing the pain as it happened, fresh and raw, or reliving it, the open wound festering.
He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder and shook gently.
“No!” Farah muttered more loudly. “No, I can’t leave her. No!”
Were those sobs?
“Farah,” Gavin said in an urgent whisper.
The woman jumped beneath his hand, startling awake. She scrambled back in the alcove, but hit the wall. There was the sound of metal against rock and suddenly Gavin felt a faint prick beneath his chin. He swallowed hard.
“Farah,” he whispered, careful not to move his lips too much and risk pushing the blade at his neck any deeper. “It’s me. You were crying in your sleep.”
The prick beneath his chin vanished, but the woman didn’t speak. A small sound escaped her instead. More sobs, more controlled this time, but still the echo of a broken soul.
Gavin stepped back and felt his way over to the lamp, removed the cover, and flicked the striker until one of the sparks caught and the lamp sputtered to life. He turned the knob and left the flame low, then replaced the hood and walked back over to Farah.
The young woman was huddled in the alcove, legs tucked up against her chin, blanket pulled up to her neck, forehead against her knees. Her body shook slightly as she cried. Gavin didn’t know what else to do, so he climbed into the alcove and awkwardly put his hand on her shoulder, head bent at an odd angle to fit within the alcove. She flinched at the touch, but did not pull away.
“I watched my parents fall from the Oasis walls when I was nine years old,” Gavin said softly. “The Sidena clan chief had goaded them into it, though it had long been their plan . . .”
The sobs slowed as Gavin told of his parent’s death, of how he had watched and then had to learn how to live with only his grandmother to guide him. He talked of his grandmother, Elvira, and told about how she’d rallied the outcasts into the group of performers they’d become. He spoke, not knowing what else to do and feeling that it was the right thing. He told her about Elvira’s death and the pain, despair, and overwhelming sense of being alone that had threatened to consume him. He told her about climbing the Oasis walls, about nearly dying there, and his eventual arrival at the top. The sobs slackened at some point while he spoke, but he talked on, arm fully around her shoulders now and her head resting against his. He spoke of finding the greatsword and the events leading up to the Oasis. He talked until he had nothing else to say, and only then did he notice that Farah had fallen back to sleep. He smiled a small, soft smile to himself and drifted back to sleep as well.
* * *
“It’s real,” Samsin breathed, supporting Nikanor as they looked down over the edge of the sheer cliff. Nikanor’s breathing was haggard, though Samsin was sure only part of it was from the pain of Nikanor’s wounds and their labored journey up the steep mountain slopes.
“I see that, Samsin.”
Samsin gazed down into the red sands below, eyes wide, filled with the wonder which rocked through his being.
“Can you see the remnants of the viewing bridges?” Samsin said, pointing. “They’re broken and some are covered in sand, but you can still see the pattern of how they connected the viewing platforms together. And there, can you see their Oasis?”
Nikanor let out a small, soft chuckle that died off wetly. “I didn’t think you believed.”
Samsin licked his lips as the wind grabbed at his blond hair and tossed it about his face. “I didn’t. I mean, I don’t. Well, we’ve all heard the stories.”
“Let’s just hope there are people there when we get to the bottom of this crater,” Nikanor said.
Samsin studied the area around him, looking around the edge of the massive crater’s lip. He couldn’t see any way down.
“And how are we supposed to get down there?” Samsin asked. “Learn to fly?”
He shivered against the bitter cold, though his thick cloak, which lay partly in tatters, did still afford some measure of warmth. There was snow on the air; Samsin could feel the dull hum of it within his veins. There was a magic here, a deep, powerful interplay of forces left by Storm Wards of old that governed this region. Samsin had felt it for days, but here, this close to the Sharani Arena, it felt like part of it was unraveling, like a single thread pulled free from an enormous tapestry.
Nikanor didn’t respond with words. Instead he pushed away from Samsin’s supporting grip and stepped free, right at the edge of the cliff. The solid, black-haired man fell into his squared earth posture and closed his eyes. Samsin saw him sway slightly as he stood, a testament to his wounds, which had started to fester earlier that day and stank whenever Samsin eased the bandages. Nikanor breathed in a deep lungful of air and then his eyes snapped open. Nikanor thrust his hands down in a forceful motion and Samsin felt a small rumble in the earth and then the grating sound of shifting rock.
He looked down. A set of steps had appeared in the rocks. They wound down the steep side of the wall in a disorganized array, switching back and forth. Samsin turned to Nikanor, a grin on his face, but the grin slipped when he noticed Nikanor falling. Samsin rushed over and caught the man before he toppled over the edge of the cliff. Samsin reached for his powers and felt the energy, the electricity in the air, flood into him. His eyes widened in surprise at the power raging through him. He lifted Nikanor with ease and looked down the steps. It was a long way, easily a half day’s worth of meandering back and forth.
“Storms take you, Nikanor,” Samsin hissed as he gritted his teeth and stepped down onto the first step of the stairs. “You’ve gone and turned me into a believer, haven’t you?”
Chapter 13: Love’s Cost
“Like everything in life, memory walks within us inside our dreams.”
—From Commentary on the Schema, Volume I
Lhaurel walked through dark, narrow tunnels, once again cognizant of the fact that she was dreaming.
What this time?
Part of her panicked, grasping at reality and trying to clamber back awake. She felt she was going mad, reality slipping away, drowning inside her own mind.
“Beryl,” Elyana’s voice said. Once again, Lhaurel experienced the dream as if she were Elyana, though she had no control over what went on.
Beryl appeared in Lhaurel’s line of sight as if she had rounded a corner. The rest of the scene resolved around her, slowly coming into focus. The room they were in was massive and dark, except for a faint reddish glow illuminating Beryl. There was a forge hammer in his hand.
“Elyana,” Beryl said in his softer, gentler voice that grated against the image Lhaurel had of the man. “Did I disturb you?”
Elyana walked around him and inspected the low workspaces, the bins, and the massive furnace. With a start, Lhaurel realized they were standing inside Beryl’s forge. The same forge through which Lhaurel had walked so many times before.
“Elyana?” Beryl asked again, setting the hammer down on the anvil next to a glowing metal rod. By the shape, Lhaurel guessed it was the beginnings of a sword. “Did I disturb you with my work?”
Elyana chuckled and picked up a long, wide-bladed dagger. It rose to Lhaurel’s eyes and turned in Elyana’s hands. “Not at all. This place is massive and my rooms far from your forge. One does begin to wonder what you are up to this late at night, however? Some task that you won’t even tell me about?”
Beryl grunted, reminding Lhaurel of the taciturn old man she knew. Elyana turned back toward him and Lhaurel saw him pick the hammer back up and then take the glowing metal rod in a pair of tongs before resuming his pounding.
“You’re ignoring the question,” Elyana pressed. She had to raise her voice over the echoing clamor of ringing metal.
“There was no question.” Beryl paused for a moment, then thrust the metal rod back into the glowing coals.
; “Beryl, you’re making me pout. One does not ignore a direct request from one of the Seven Sisters, even if it is only implied.”
“What do you want of me? I am your Bondsman, Elyana, but that does not make you my conscience, nor my moral compass. I’m allowed some measure of independence, even if it is within my own thoughts.”
“Are you unhappy with your lot?” There was a genuine note of interest in Elyana’s voice. It was only upon hearing it now that Lhaurel realized the absence of it in previous conversations.
“Unhappy?” Beryl moved over to the bellows and wrapped a thick hand over one long wooden handle and began pulling. “How could I be unhappy with my lot? I have everything I’ve ever dreamed of having. My lot is far better than it has been in times past.”
By the way Beryl’s voice dropped off toward the end of the conversation, Lhaurel assumed there was something more behind the words. She was not alone in her suspicions, it seemed.
“What are you saying, Beryl?” Elyana asked, voice a mixture of curiosity and contempt. “Do your thoughts dwell on the Rahuli slaves? They’re so far below you now they’re not worthy of your concern. The prisoners, the Orinai who’ve been sentenced to live down there with them, even less so. They’re criminals of the worst sort. Why do you let thoughts of them keep you up late at night?”
Beryl heaved on the bellows and a spray of ash, sparks, and coals exploded out into the room. He released the handle and threw his hands into the air.
“Why?” he asked, his voice a low, dark rumble. “Because what our dear religion seems to forget is that we were once them. All of us started at the lowest of Iterations, the lowest level of Progression. We torture and hurt them, we punish them for being what we once were. Where is the Honor in that? It simply cannot be the only way to push them along in their pursuit of Harmony. There must be another way.” He cut off jaggedly and his expression darkened. “My pardon, Honored Sister. Please forgive my blasphemy. I will take what penance I must to satisfy you for my sins.”
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