by Lexy Wolfe
Ash walked up, his eyes only for Storm. Emil looked between the two and stepped away, his face flushed with emotion, both his own and the sympathy he felt for the lifemates' shared pain. "But we do not know how long it will be until we can return, Aelia," he said softly, touching her cheek. "You said Desanti lives are... short and bright. It could be months... or years. Are you certain it must be this way?"
A tear rolled down her cheek. "Ash, in Ithesra, you used to try to change me to behave more like... your people. Because you thought our behavior was only because of our environment, not that we had changed to adapt to it." Putting her hand over his heart, she closed her eyes. "When you understood, you stopped trying."
Clear green-gold eyes met azure blue. Her quiet voice held infinite resignation. "I never asked you to be anything other than what you are. None of you have been asked to give up everything that makes you who you are."
Skyfire stated tonelessly, "The Guardians do not even ask. They demand it of us. We cannot betray our people, and if we live a lie to make the Guardians happy, we will be betraying the Raging One and all of our people who have lived and died struggling to preserve our ways."
"I... understand, Aelia." The lifemates embraced each other fiercely tight, the others looking away as they rubbed tears from their eyes, sensing the moment of departure nearing. "Watch each other's backs," Ash said gruffly, looking at Skyfire as he hugged Lyra tightly. "Emil is right. We are a family. Promise me you will still be there, waiting for us to return." Kissing Storm's hair, he added, "I could not live without you."
"I promise you, Ash," Storm said softly. "For however long it takes, we will wait for you." Slowly pulling away, she leaned down to pick up her backpack, shouldering it. "We must go now. The servants and the Guardians will be awakening soon. We do not wish to come to blows because of their beliefs over this." The two paused at the door to look back. "Safe journey," Storm said, her voice tight.
"All of you will be great Guardians," Skyfire added, his nonchalance tempered with sadness. He put his arm around Storm as they disappeared down the hall.
"I kenna believe," Emil said dully, shoulders slumped in defeat, "after all we been through, it'd be th' Guardians that break us apart."
"We should get our gear," Mureln said tonelessly, staring at nothing as he put his arm around Taylin mechanically. "The Dusvet wanted to get an early start."
Lyra, hugging herself as she stared at the floor, jumped when Ash put his hand on her shoulder. She began to sob quietly as he pulled her into a tight embrace, hiding his face from the doorway.
Watching in silence, Terrence shook his head as he returned to his room. "Dzee, why? How could this have happened?"
Our lord father's children have been bound so long by the edict to preserve our ways, it would have shattered Storm and Skyfire if they gave any of it up, Dzee said sadly in his mind. But they respect the Guardians firm beliefs, too. Unfortunately, Desantiva has been separate for so long, it seems... we are no longer compatible with the outlands.
Pulling off his tunic, he stood in front of the mirror to look at the Githalin and Illaini markings on his right forearm and shoulder, the gold pendant of crossed, single-edged swords catching the lamp light. "Where does this leave me, Dzee?" Bowing his head, he clenched his fists. "I am not Desanti, but I am... one of the people. Without Skyfire and Storm to teach me... where does it leave me?" Dzee said nothing, having no answer for him.
Chapter 31
Not long after everyone had gathered in the main room with their belongings, the Dusvet Guardian, Bella, Jaison and Ophilia joined them. Almek looked over his students and frowned at the subdued mood. "Where are Storm and Skyfire? I would have expected them to have been the first ones ready to leave."
Ash's expression was grim as he cinched his backpack tighter than he needed. "They are gone. They have decided Desanti are unsuitable to become Guardians." He looked over at Lyra who hugged herself, trying to suppress tears. His stone-like expression faltered and he went to the former servant girl. Pulling her to him, he hugged her tightly as she buried herself in his arms. "They said they would wait for us to return. For however long it takes us to return to them."
"What is wrong with them?! Are they crazy?" Ophilia asked incredulously. "The Unseen themselves declared them acceptable!" Looking very much like her mother Kelafy, the young Adept turned on her heel. "This excessive consideration for the Desanti is getting out of hand. I swear I am going to--"
Jaison caught her by the arm, not meeting anyone's eyes. "No, Adept. I will speak to them. Part of this is my fault. It is for me to fix." He ignored the questioning looks by the others and Ash's glare as the senior mage consoled Lyra. "We will meet you at Threshold, Dusvet. No doubt their beasts will be coming with anyway."
Almek was silent as he studied Jaison intently before dismissing him with a wave. "Do not be overlong, Jaison. I wish to be within the walls before sunset." Jaison only nodded to Almek's request, walking swiftly outside, as much to escape the hostility turned on him as to find the two Swordanzen.
Outside, Jaison paused for a moment, glancing over towards the stables, then out towards the southern tree line as the distinctive shrill of the drizar's challenge to the world drifted on the wind. With purpose, he headed for the forest.
Chapter 32
In an area that was rocky with sparse plant life, Storm and Skyfire sat together along the leeside of a large slab of rock propped up on a tall boulder. The two drizzen paced agitatedly as their riders spoke quietly. Skyfire put his hand on Storm's slumped shoulder. "Th'yala, please believe me. Everything will be as it should be. Have faith."
"I do not know that I have any faith left, Radisen," Storm despaired. Skyfire blinked in surprised when she used his old name; Storm rarely invoked the Swordanzen intimacy. He pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. She closed her eyes, covering her face with her hands. "Not even the twisting ragewinds could batter me as much as these past months have done to me. I cannot bear this."
"You can, Aelia," Skyfire said with quiet intensity, alarmed at the defeated resignation in her voice. "You are strong enough for this."
Raising her green-gold eyes to his, Storm said wearily, "My strength has left for Sanctuary." However, when the drizzen raised their heads, the drizar shrieking in challenge as he lowered his horned head threateningly, the two humans reacted instinctively, drawing their paired swords as they stood.
Jaison emerged from the treeline with his hands raised. Neither Swordanzen lowered their weapons. "What do you want?" Skyfire growled as he stepped slightly in front of Storm protectively. "Haven't you caused enough damage?"
Jaison stated simply in Desanti, "The others are waiting for you to join them."
"Then they will wait a long time," Storm replied tonelessly. "We decline your and your kind's gracious invitation to betray our people." Turning to the drizar who bumped her shoulder for attention, she added as she resheathed her weapons and scratched the animal's brow roughly, "There is no way to change who and what we are. We were born Desanti. We will die Desanti."
"Even though it will deprive Lyra and Ash of your presence at their sides when they remain ageless as Guardians and you die in a handful of years?" Jaison asked, a weary resignation in his voice knowing the answer.
Skyfire looked coolly at Jaison. "It will be like that for them no matter what path we choose. Even if none of us became Guardians, Desanti lives are short. Forenten can endure for many Desanti generations. Being Guardians would not change the fact some challenge in the future would mean our deaths." He sheathed his swords, turning his back on the Unsvet, an explicit insult that Jaison was not considered even an honorable enemy. "They will grieve, but they would not ask us to be disloyal to our ancestors, as we do not ask it of them."
Jaison sighed heavily, looking downwards in shame. "When my na'Zhekali heritage started becoming more apparent, my father knew there were those who would have challenged him through me when he was not present. Challenges I was not prepared
to face as a tribeless child nor that my foreigner mother could protect me from. He taught me how to bring Mother's Vodani aspects forward and suppress his. He said... it was better to be safe as a foreigner who was no threat to them than Githalin Swordanzen Hunter's halfbreed son.
"When Almek came to Desantiva, my father had been dead for a season, my mother dead for three. The Elders had taken me in out of respect for his sacrifice, for my mother's service to the Desanti people. But they did not know I was his son. They believed she was simply his th'yala. Because they thought I was wholly Vodani, they did not consider me Cursed." He touched the clear pendant at his chest. "They only knew that Hunter protected me. Sometimes when I spoke with the Elders about leaving Desantiva, they said when I was a man, it would be my decision. Vodani did not live in Home Port or First Home beyond a few years most of the time anyway. But Desanti never leave Desantiva. To even think it was treason against the Heart of Desantiva, punishable by death. That was emphasized repeatedly."
Both Swordanzen turned to regard the man, their expressions unreadable as they listened. "My father lived to protect his people. He died protecting them. When Almek came to First Home, he could tell immediately I was a halfbreed. But he did not belittle me for it, or betray it to the Elders. He understood how hard it was to be born of two nations because he, too, had been a halfbreed son of Vodanya and Sevmana." He looked up to meet their eyes. "When Almek asked if I would travel with him, all I could think of was my father's last words to me. And the Elders' constant reiteration that Desanti do not leave Desantiva, but Vodani go where the tides of their spirits carry them."
"So you chose to became Vodani," Storm stated, green-gold eyes still intent on him.
The Unsvet sighed, shrugging. "In appearance. My mother adored the Desanti people. It was her hope I would be able to meet the challenges to become na'Zhekali when I was an adult, so she raised me Desanti as best she could. But I am no more Vodani than Desanti, except in blood."
"To belong to no people..." Skyfire shook his head, flicking a glance towards Storm. "That is a hard way to live."
Jaison shrugged. "The Guardians had become my people. As much as a nation of no nations can be, at any rate. Almek offered me the chance to become a Guardian. My father had told me my destiny lay outside of Desantiva. But Desanti don't... didn't leave Desantiva." He sighed, looking away again. "Guardians don't care if someone is a halfbreed. More often than not, the strongest Guardians are those of mixed nations. Something of the mixed heritage makes halfbreeds more attuned to time.
"But Guardians are still human, and despite the idealism that they regard all nations as equals, there are still biases. Many feel the Desanti had turned their backs on our goddess and abandoned Fortress when they returned to Desantiva after the Great War. Almek believed it would be best to keep my Desanti heritage between us until sentiments... improved."
"So you kept the charade going," Skyfire stated, his posture relaxing. "To be Desanti-born without a full tribal bond for so long..."
"It has been difficult. I consoled myself knowing my father's tribe lived on in Desantiva, and there was always those I considered family here. Until Storm showed me..." Jaison's voice became choked, balling his fists. "I did not realize what I sensed fifteen years ago was..."
"The death of the na'Zhekali tribe," Storm finished for him. With light steps, she approached him, staring into his eyes intently. "There have been Desanti-Vodani breedings before in Desantiva. They have to fight harder than others to prove themselves, to prove their Desanti blood is strong so the tribes will accept them." After several moments, Storm finally said, "I apologize. You did not betray your sire. You honored him."
Jaison looked at her, surprised and grateful for her apology. "Even though I--"
"You were a child left to become an adult without the benefit of a tribe to guide you." Storm's voice was tight with rigid self-control. "We are not so different in that, you and I. We are both Cursed. I should have asked before judging you. I just... I never expected to find another of na'Zhekali blood alive."
"We are truly the last?" Jaison asked rhetorically, not expecting a positive answer.
"There is one other. My grandfather Verris na'Zhekali." She sighed heavily. "An Elder, a Swordanzen and a Guardian." Bitterly, she looked away. "Even with three of us, the tribe remains dead. We are all outside of tribal ties."
The Unsvet looked confused. "Outside of tribal ties? I do not understand."
"When one chooses a path that serves all Desantiva, the bayuli-volsha that ties all tribesmen together is... replaced by the ties to all of Desantiva." Storm rubbed the drizar absently, staring into space. "Elders, Swordanzen... any who serve many, belong to all tribes and to none. We are of na'Zhekali blood, but there is no na'Zhekali tribe. It has been dead since I was a child."
Skyfire considered the two. "The Heart of Desantiva bid us to find new patterns for Desantiva." He paused a moment. "It has done no harm for us to consider Almek's students as our tribe, because we have the same purpose, as a tribe would have. And some in Desantiva have belonged to more than one tribe before, though it is rare." He looked to Storm. "You live. Jaison lives." He looked questioningly at the Unsvet. "Are you still able to breed, being a Guardian of Time?"
Turning deep red, Jaison said, "Guardians are capable of breeding, yes. I have been careful... not to. There would be too many questions if a child bore distinctive na'Zhekali traits."
Looking at Storm, Skyfire pointed out simply, "I am sure Thandar remembers the na'Zhekali rituals. He could impart them to you if you asked. Can you not reforge the na'Zhekali tribe between you two?"
Jaison blinked, then looked at Storm with a cautiously hopeful look. "Is it possible?"
Storm stared at Skyfire before looking away. "I... do not know. But to revive a dead tribe... Even the one I had been born into..."
Skyfire smiled sadly, cupping Storm's cheek tenderly. "The na'Zhekali tribe is not dead, Storm. Not while you live. I know this." He looked at Jaison as he let his hand drop away. "But it would mean revealing your birthright. You cannot hide and embrace your heritage at the same time. Especially not na'Zhekali heritage."
"What about you?" Jaison asked. "You are as alone here as we are. Could you not choose to become part of the na'Zhekali tribe as well? I know the na'Zhekali tribe preferred only to keep those who bore the distinctive coloration, but there were always exceptions. If Storm leads the rituals, you could--"
The Swordanzen man shook his head. "Being Storm's th'yala is enough for me for now. We are bound by the traditions of the Swordanzen. Until we have faced each other in the shli’zarii, we cannot be more than th'yala, no matter how much we wish it."
"The combat trials are an ancient tradition from before the First Sundering," Storm said absently, her mind still considering Skyfire's suggestion. "I look forward to their conclusion with no less reluctance than Skyfire does."
Jaison frowned. "It means one of you will die."
Storm's gaze refocused on the present, looking up at Jaison. "May die. The shli'zarii is not a fight to the death. It is a contest of mastery. It often ends in death, yes, because that is how we fight. Pushing ourselves until we have nothing left to push ourselves with. But if our opponent is incapacitated and unable to continue the fight, we do not strike a death blow." She looked up at a bird of prey gliding on the updrafts above. "The shli'zarii is sought by Swordanzen who feel they have mastered the arts and seek a contest to prove their worth against an equal opponent and witnessed by at least one other. It is a drive we cannot ignore. Everything a warrior has is put into the fight. But often, even if neither combatant dies during the shli'zarii, the dishonorable will take advantage and challenge the victor or the defeated in their moment of weakness, invoking the sacred edict that a warrior answers all challenges."
Skyfire smiled wanly and shrugged. "That is why Storm does not challenge me, nor do I challenge her. Not until I am her equal. There would be no honor in it otherwise."
Both men look
ed at Storm when she shivered, hugging herself as she came out of a brief meditative state. Skyfire put a hand on her shoulder. "You spoke with Thandar?"
Shaking her head, she leaned against Skyfire briefly. "Not Thandar. My father. He said... He said Githalin have always been free to choose their paths." Storm closed her eyes. "The edict that Swordanzen must remain tribeless holds only for those not Githalin, because the Githalin bond to the Totani already ties us to the world that tribal bayuli-volsha mutes in other Swordanzen." Looking at Jaison, she murmured, "You could become Desanti as your mother wished."
Jaison closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I left Desantiva as a boy. I am not sure I can be a proper..."
"You can be whatever you choose to be," Storm stated firmly. "You were strong enough to become a Guardian. If you wish to reclaim your father's heritage, we can help you in that."
Jaison studied her for a time. "And you? Will you choose to become a Guardian?" He put his hand on her shoulder as she looked away, pained. "You have strength unlike any other I have met. Almek needs you." When she looked back at him, he smiled. "In that, I can help you."
"Very well," Storm stated after a long moment of silence. She looked at him intently then laughed softly. "Strange. Though you are generations older than I am, you are still a child in Desanti eyes."
Both men blinked, confused. "What does that mean?" Jaison asked. "Why am I still a child? How am I still a child? I'm over one hundred years old!"
"Becoming adult has nothing to do with age. It never has. You are still a child because you have never undergone the trials to earn your adult name from the Totani. You never earned your place in the tribe. Nor had you fully become Vodani." She put her hand over his heart. "Though you wore the mask of a Vodani, your heart never released the Desanti in you. One day, you must return to Desantiva to earn your name."