by Lexy Wolfe
Mureln frowned faintly. "I can understand it being a schism within society having so many individuals disappear, but affecting the physical stability?"
Bella smiled wanly. "Fortress was to represent all. Be the focus of the balance between the lands. The weave of all the realms meets here, physical, spiritual, and temporal. Without the Desanti, there has always been something of a void."
The shrill song of Terrence's forest sprite made everyone wince as she flew inside and circled to land on Terrence's offered hand. Emil wiggled a finger in his ear, glaring at the creature. "I ain't never gonna get used t' that'n." Emaris's snorted, crossing his arms as he eyed the small being with wariness that lingered since the sprites' attack on the Desanti back in Forenta.
Petal's wings quivered as she looked at Terrence and Ash. "Illaini learning more from words of past. Illaini are able to see more than others see. Have much practice from own archives."
Ash looked over at the sprite, then at Terrence. He stood, looking at Tyrsan. "Has Fortress a library, Dulain?"
Tyrsan blinked. "You haven't been shown the archives yet?" He looked sternly at Bella who tried to affect innocence. "I told you to--"
Bella sighed, throwing her hands into the air. "Yes, yes. You told me to show them those stuffy old archives deep in the bowels of Fortress and I didn't do as I was told. I'll go report to the North Watch." The others barely suppressed their laughter as she left the main room.
"She goes on patrol a lot," Mureln observed as he sat with Taylin, the healer resting her head on his shoulder.
Trying to discover the basic nature of the chitan, Jaison first offered it a bit of meat, then a bit of fruit. The small creature accepted both daintily. The Desanti-born Unsvet smiled wanly. "Bella dislikes being underground. She's a love of the outdoors. She tends to be horribly irreverent because most of the formality some adore she finds particularly pointless."
Ash smiled to himself as he looked at the star-shaped scar in his palm. "Reminds me a great deal of my brother Nolyn." Shaking his head, he looked up. "Where are these archives? Terrence and I would like to see them." He held up his right hand, letting the sleeve fall to display the eternal braid of the Illaini. "Part of the gifts of the Knowing One is drawing out hidden knowledge enshrined wherever it may reside."
Interest piqued, Tyrsan almost agreed, then shook his head. "I'll take you to them myself once your Desanti companions have fully recovered. Unless I am mistaken, Adept Storm would become rather agitated if she did not know where you were when she awakens." When Ash arched an eyebrow, Tyrsan smiled faintly. "The heart of a true warrior does not differ that much between the different nations. Desanti are not the only warriors, Mage. I understand them at least that much. We all wish assurances those we protect the most are well and I have witnessed her rather intense lack of trust."
Chagrinned he had not thought of it himself, Ash offered Tyrsan a respectful half bow. "Your consideration is very much appreciated."
Everyone looked over sharply as Emaris's stomach growled loud enough to startle the chitan, the small creature hissing, wings flaring briefly. "Will ye ha' some food sent up?" Emil asked petulantly. "We be starvin' here." He added with eager hopefulness, "with some pretty lasses t' serve us, maybe?"
"The food I can manage. The 'lasses' I am afraid you will have to find for yourself," Tyrsan replied dryly. "You've already gotten yourself quite a reputation with the women of Sharindel and Sanctuary both, Adept Emil. Almost enviable." No one bothered trying to suppress their laughter when Emil sputtered, red-faced.
Chapter 6
Built from pure white marble, the small building on the main terrace of Sanctuary was comprised of a single room. Several tables with chairs all of darkly stained wood faced a chalkboard on the cliff-side wall. Between each elaborately decorated, stained-glass window hung lanterns to brighten the interior cheerfully.
A tall, slender man stood waiting by the instructor's table, looking particularly unhappy as he waited for the group to part ways. "The sooner you mud children sit down, the sooner this course of instruction will be concluded."
Ignoring the testy Guardian, Ash took Storm's hand in his, touching her cheek to draw her eyes up. She raised her eyes, both relieved they could control their shared vision after considerable practice. "Just do not draw your weapons."
"I do not need a weapon to hurt people," Storm stated through clenched teeth, flashing a glare towards the impatiently waiting Guardian. "And I do not need anyone to teach me writing or to speak in other tongues. Writing is an outlander thing, and if I desired to learn another tongue, you and the others among us could teach us."
"Storm!" Ash chided affectionately. "Just try to be somewhat agreeable and don't seriously hurt anyone. Look. If you cannot trust the Dulain of Sanctuary that it is necessary for Guardians to be conversant in the communications of the other lands, trust me." He tilted her chin up when she lowered her eyes. "It is valuable knowledge. Give Unsvet Benilus a chance to earn your trust."
"He does not trust us," Skyfire pointed out. "I could sense that before we even entered the building."
Lyra smiled brightly up at Skyfire and offered cheerfully, "Then you will have to try earning his trust, that's all!" Lyra looked over her shoulder, Bella's insistent voice audible from inside. "I need to go. Bella wants to show me some of the area she patrols and get us back in time for the evening meal." The slight Forentan woman kissed Skyfire's cheek and hurried back out.
"Bah," Skyfire grunted, echoing Storm's surly displeasure.
Ash looked at Terrence with a helpless expression. "I keep forgetting how stubborn they can get," he said in Forentan to the other Illaini Magus. The younger man coughed into his hand, hiding a smile when Storm muttered, "So stop forgetting."
"The Path of the Sword leads to peace," Terrence stated mildly, drawing both Storm and Skyfire's undivided attentions. "It is only when all other means to the end are exhausted that the sword is drawn." The young man put his hands palm to palm as he bowed respectfully to the pair. "To learn others' means of communication brings understanding of their wants, of their needs, of them."
Grudgingly, the pair relaxed from their hostile bristling. "Fine," Storm relented. "But it does not mean we will like it." The pair turned to go to the desks awaiting them, stalking away.
"Come," Ash said, heading out of the small building. "Before they find another excuse to stall. We need to meet with the Master Archivist before we can explore the archives." Once they were away, Ash glanced sideways at Terrence. "How did you know what to say to shake them out of their abject refusal? Did Dzee tell you through your Githalin bond to her?"
"Not directly, no." Terrence looked up at the sun before they entered the main tunnel leading into the heart of the mountain. "Storm and Skyfire are not so much stubborn, as they are dedicated. The Path of the Sword is a life commitment, especially so for a Githalin. Neither wishes to feel as though they are betraying their people."
Ash considered that for several minutes as they walked, looking down at the back of his hand and the divine eternal braid that marked him as an Illaini. "You showed them how it was part of their Path." Troubled, Ash murmured, "I envy you your bond to Dzee, Terrence. You understand Storm more than I ever will."
"I do not understand either Storm or Skyfire any more than you do, Ash," Terrence reassured. "But I do learn about ancient Desantiva from Dzee. The Path of the Sword is older than Desantiva itself. Storm adheres to its purest interpretation. I only appealed to one of its aspects."
Ash stopped abruptly, staring at Terrence. "From before the First Sundering?"
"From before there were Guardians of Time, yes," Terrence said in a low voice. With a wan smile, he said, "Come, we should hurry. If Master Turyd is anything close to what Bella describes him, calling him pedantic is an understatement."
Chapter 7
The sound of the wind blowing around the peak and through the nearby trees as well as the whisper of activity from the rest of the settlement blended w
ith the sweet sound of the small spring fountain that bubbled in the corner of the building's small atrium garden. Mureln sat on one of the benches quietly, watching Emil pace and Emaris leaning on the opposite wall with an impatient glower. "When is this Alysha suppose to get here?! There be things we could be doin'!"
"Trying to find a pleasure house in Sanctuary is hardly a necessity, Emil." The gypsy snorted at his brother-in-arm's words. "I am sure she will show up when she is free," Mureln stated calmly. "Be patient, Emil."
"It has been hours! An' this time, I ain't be exaggeratin'!" Jabbing a finger towards the sky, the wiry gypsy complained, "It be nearly high sun. We soon need t' be getting th' midday meal! B'fore--"
"--you starve," the bard finished for him with mock sympathy, Emil merely smirked as Emaris grinned at Mureln. "Poor things." Heaving a put upon sigh, the master bard pushed himself to his feet. "Fine, fine. I'll go see if I can find--" His words broke off when there was a tall woman standing in the archway that led into the home, her Guardian mark a metallic, gentle rose red. "Unsvet Alysha?" he asked, putting out an arm to block Emil from rushing to her in his typical reaction to beautiful women.
Alysha smiled warmly at the three, extending a slender, dark brown hand to Mureln, her light hazel eyes flicking over each man. "Master Bard, gypsies," she greeted, her slight accent as alluring as her dark-hued beauty. "I was beginning to wonder how long your first lesson would take."
The three men traded bewildered looks. "First lesson?" Mureln asked, utterly confused.
"When you were going to come looking for me." Alysha motioned for the three to sit on the wide bench, gracefully sweeping her long, deep red skirt and settling on the edge of the fountain. She traced lazy circles in the water. "The lesson was one of taking action." Regarding them steadily, she pointed out, "Bards and gyspies both are notorious for sitting back and observing, taking action only when absolutely necessary." When she fixed her gaze on Emil and Emaris, both looked down like little boys caught in a lie. "It is an admirable quality to possess. It is more difficult to educate about the wisdom of patience. But as future Guardians of Time, sitting back cannot be your sole action."
Mureln frowned slightly. "Forgive me, Unsvet Alysha, but that goes against--"
"Everything you had been taught as a bard. I know." Unapologetic, Alysha said, "However, there is a difference between being a Guardian and being a bard or any of the others who rely predominantly on observation or keeping a neutral stance. We Guardians are meant to ensure that the world remains in balance. We cannot remain neutral. We have chosen the side of the Timeless One."
Emaris scowled, speaking in sharp gestures. Emil nodded to his words and added, "Yeah! We ain't always neutral. Gypsies do stuff!"
"Not without necessity pushing you to it, Adept Emil," Alysha replied, unruffled. "That is why you constantly retreat to your dice games and pleasure women. You need not face the choices you would face otherwise." Both men flushed at the flat statement, but unable to argue with it. She considered. "Perhaps I should redefine neutrality for you. It is not inaction. It is taking action for the purpose of keeping the great balance in balance. Sometimes you may be forced to inaction as much as forced to action. Both can bring heartache."
"You speak as one who knows from experience," Mureln observed.
"It is something every Guardian has experienced." Alysha rose gracefully. "More so for those of us who prefer not to interfere. Your first lesson was to stop waiting and take action to seek me out." She glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smile to Emil. "Not stop waiting and go do something else."
"I can tell I'm gonna be hatin' these lessons," Emil grumped. "Too obscure."
"You are going to hate more that few here will believe you do not notice or comprehend the obscure, Gypsy," Alysha said, waving for them to follow her inside. "Your second lesson is one of consequences." The three men traded worried looks, then stopped short to stare agape at the sight before them.
The room had three narrow cots, only one occupied. The young man laying on the cot was nearly skeletal, his breath a shallow rasp, staring sightlessly. Alysha rested her hand on the man's brow, leaning down to kiss his sunken cheek briefly. "This is what all of us risk, whether we are reticent or brazen or something in between, regardless of our experience."
Mureln moved closer, his eyes searching the comatose man's face, feeling himself go cold. "He is not a Guardian," he murmured.
"Nikkan was an Adept, much as you three are," Alysha explained quietly. "And he had great promise. Many of us who train Adepts and Guardians looked forward to the day he would have been called to the Kings and Queens to be tested for his right to bear the colors of the Timeless One." Brushing her fingers over his hair, she said sadly, "We expected him to be the first new Dusvet in nearly two centuries."
Emil and Emaris remained back as far from the man as politely possible, unable to conceal their horror and revulsion at the sight. "Why do ye let 'im suffer like this?" Emil finally asked. "It would be a mercy if ye let 'im die. Or even help 'im along to spare 'im."
"It is not our way to give up hope that he might find his way back to himself," Alysha replied simply. "Because those who become lost in this manner..." She stopped herself and shook her head. "Though I expect he will finally pass by the end of the sevenday." She sighed softly. "Nikkan had come to Sanctuary a bold man. He would challenge and argue. Fight the good fight, as you might say. But as he trained in the art of manipulating time, and he understood how his choices and actions could affect things, he became less bold, more cautious."
Gazing sadly down at the man, Alysha continued. "He was on patrol with two others when what appeared to be a normal bear confronted them. Guardians will try to avoid harming non-temporal creatures if they can, but they will defend themselves or others if necessary. Nikkan hesitated, trying to scry the impact of harming this bear before he would move to attack it. It was then a temporal shifter we call a wraith emerged."
As Emaris spoke in gestures, Emil relayed, "What be a wraith?"
"For now, it is enough to say that they are keenly intelligent and ruthlessly savage temporal shifters that enjoy the kill of a hunt. The Guardian engaged with the bear and the bear died... horribly. The other Guardian managed to contain the wraith and sent it back out of our time stream."
"And Nikkan?" Mureln prompted gently as he sat on the cot on the other side of the young man, putting his hand on the emaciated man's.
"Because he was scrying, the horror of what he saw and the shock of his part in what happened, he... retreated and never returned to us." Alysha looked at the three men with a grave expression. "Do not think this only happens to young or inexperienced Adepts or Guardians. Even the most seasoned of our numbers can end their days this way. Lost in the ether, never to be reborn."
Emil and Emaris traded worried looks. "We, uh, get yer point." Both men stood near the atrium exit, eager to leave the dismal scene. The moment Alysha rose and walked towards them, they eagerly preceded her down the hall. Mureln, however, did not move, staring down at Nikkan.
"Adept Mureln," Alysha called. "Come. There is nothing more that can be done for Nikkan. You have many more things to learn today."
Mureln looked up at Alysha, his sea green gaze intense. "You speak to us about consequences of action and inaction. Nikkan should not be trapped by his own failure." He reached for his mandolin, bringing it around. "I believe I can help with that."
Opening her mouth to argue, Alysha's eyes widened when Emaris grabbed one arm, Emil covering her mouth to silence her. "Let 'im go. Never does no good tryin' t'argue wi' a master bard when he got his mind set on somethin'." Alysha's eyes narrowed thoughtfully before she finally nodded slightly. Both gypsies removed their hands from the Unsvet, all three turning to watch.
With deft skill, Mureln moved his fingers over the strings to draw out an eerie, spine-chilling melody, his voice joining his instrument in a discomfiting duet. When the music shifted into a third modulation, Nikkan gasped, jerking s
pasmodically as he reached out blindly. Mureln stopped playing, reaching out to catch the man's hand reassuringly, the three at the door rushing to the other side of the bed. "It is okay, Nikkan. You are fine now."
Nikkan's eyes, wide with horror, shook his head. "No!" he rasped in a voice long unused. "The Dulain! Must warn...!" He looked wildly between Mureln and Alysha. "I saw... I saw..." Shuddering with a painful spasm, Nikkan struggled vainly to speak. Before anyone could move, he reached out to grab Mureln's shoulders and pulled him down so their foreheads touched. Both cried out in pain and collapsed.
"Mureln!" Emil called as Emaris easily lifted the bard off Nikkan and sat the dazed and disoriented Vodani on the empty cot while Alysha touched Nikkan's throat. The Unsvet bowed her head, reaching out to close Nikkan's sightless eyes, grieving a moment for the split second of hope for recovery before going to Mureln's aid.
Prying the bard's eyelids open to gaze in his eyes, Alysha pressed her lips together. "Take him to the atrium. The fresh air will help him recover his senses. I must attend to Nikkan."
"Attend to Nikkan?" Emil asked as Emaris got his arm under Mureln and all but dragged him towards the atrium. "What do ye mean...?" His eyes widened as he watched Alysha hold her hands out over the former Adept's body. The air seemed to ripple around the dead body like a desert heat mirage. The body shriveled and collapsed into dust and bones, the bones disintegrating within moments after that.
Emil stared in silence before he looked at Alysha. "Ye are not a healer," he stated after several heartbeats. "Ye are a shepherd of Death's Gate. Th' one who sits by th' sick or dyin' when nothin' but waitin' ken be done fer 'em." Alysha did not respond, closing her eyes as she turned her face away. "Do ye ha' no one who sits with you?" When the Unsvet started to walk away, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into a tight embrace. She struggled briefly before she simply started sobbing quietly in grief.
After several minutes, Alysha finally pushed him away, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Thank you," she said after a time. "I must check on Mureln. I do not think he has come to harm, but..." She looked at the dust covered cot. Emil gestured for her to go ahead of him with flourish, drawing a weak smile from the woman.