by Lexy Wolfe
"I see." Benilus contemplated his boots for several moments. "You do realize, if you applied yourself to your lessons with such attention to detail, you could easily scry that information."
"Pfft. Why? Scryin' does give me a considerable headache." Emil waved a hand. "We gypsies been havin' t' know how to read people for longer'n there've been gypsy clans.
Benilus opened his mouth to answer, then closed it thoughtfully. "Learning to manipulate temporal energies does tend to give you a headache in the beginning. But the more you use it, the easier it gets. And the less painful." Emil wrinkled his nose, crossing his arms belligerently. Seriously, Benilus added, "Also, temporal shifters hide behind their host's predilections."
"He means they're more subtle, Emil," Mureln offered helpfully behind an excessively innocent tone.
Emil flushed. "I knows what he be sayin', Mureln! Don't mean I has to like none of it!"
"Consider it a necessary evil." Benilus absently tugged his sleeve up to scratch at old scars of claw marks on his forearm. "We all have had our challenges to become one of Her servants."
Drawn to the scars, Taylin's eyes widened. "Oh, Unsvet, your arm! I could heal that if you--"
"No!" all the men chorused, even Emaris doing so mutely. They traded surprised looks before giving Taylin their attention.
Benilus managed a smile for the flushed healer. "Perhaps after you have given birth. It is best to avoid using temporal energies during pregnancy."
"That is why my lessons have been restricted to historical studies and linguistic lessons?" Taylin's hand fell to her swollen belly in worry. "It could hurt him?"
"Not harmful, just..." He searched for the words. "Some... unusual effects are known to have happened. Some superficial. Some... not so much." Benilus sat up sharply, looking unerringly towards the arms training area.
The sound of wood striking wood echoed off the cliff face, drawing the attention of everyone outside over to where Tyrsan and Jaison sparred with quarterstaves. Emil elbowed Emaris, pointing to the group. "Hey, look it. Told ye the Swordanzen would no' turn up a chance t' spar if it got 'em out of readin' and writin' lessons."
Mureln looked over and smiled indulgently, though he gave a long suffering sigh that made Taylin giggle and the Unsvet look at him quizzically. "Look at Storm's expression. She's studying them. The woman is positively obsessed with weapon craft of all sorts."
"I sure as hells hope she ain't plannin' t' put sword 'gainst staff." Emil squinted as he wiggled his finger in his ear absently. "Sure would be a waste of a good staff."
Benilus looked insulted. "Dulain Tyrsan is the greatest fighter that has ever graced Her sacred home. He has been a warrior for over three hundred years. The Desanti are just children in comparison!"
"You won't get any argument from us that they're only children." Mureln stood, offering his hand to Taylin. "We best get over there. Knowing that pair, there's bound to be bloodshed, but if Taylin's near, they'll be more careful." Joining the four Adepts, Benilus looked quizzical when the other three laughed out loud.
Leaning on a low wall that circumscribed the training area, Skyfire glanced over Lyra's head to Storm, who sat atop the wall. He grinned at her hawk-like stare as she watched the two Unsvets intently. Tyrsan and Jaison traded and blocked blows in turn in a dizzying display. The darker skinned man glanced up at his kinswoman. "It is intriguing, isn't it?"
Lyra looked over at him, curious. "Just 'intriguing'? I have never seen anyone who is as fast as both of you!"
"No, not as fast. They are a little slower. They might be as fast, but right now, they're holding back," Storm said absently as she watched the men. "They could be so much faster if they did not hinder themselves."
Skyfire rolled his eyes for Lyra's benefit, the fair woman giggling. "I was talking about their weapons. It is so strange to see weapons made from wood and not bone, stone and metal."
"Aren't there any trees in Desantiva to make things with?" Lyra asked, her pity obvious.
Skyfire smiled, affectionately touching her cheek lightly. "Trees are sacred, not to be used for frivolous things that other materials can be used for. A true Desanti would give his or her life to protect them." His smile faltered briefly. "Many have."
Storm's eyes did not stray from the two sparring as she spoke. "All the trees in Desantiva are twisted and small to protect them from the seasonal raging storms. Only the most gifted artisans will create objects from their wood, and only from branches that have broken off or trees that were slain when the winds were too strong for them."
"But your tents had wooden supports! I remember that from sharing Skyfire's vision when he showed me what home was like for your people!"
Skyfire smiled faintly. "Occasionally, a ship that would trespass on our coast would be salvaged. Its wood would be used for more sacrosanct purposes such as providing protection to the people as tent supports. After the crew was fed to the drizzen. Everything else we possess is crafted from metal or bone. There is an art to bone weaving to make tools and weapons."
"Fed to drizzen." Lyra shuddered. "At least you do not eat people." Skyfire simply chuckled, caressing her cheek once more before letting his hand drop and returning his attention to the staff fighters.
Tyrsan swept Jaison's feet out from under him, the end of the staff circling around to stop just inches from the fallen man's head. Jaison held his hands up submissively and Tyrsan relaxed, offering his hand to him to help him up. "You're getting better, Jaison. You just need to watch those low sweeps."
"It is a little distracting being watched so intensely," Jaison confessed, looking over at Storm.
Tyrsan chuckled, resting his weapon against his shoulder as he approached the Desanti. "So, master warriors. Now that you have witnessed the art of staves, what are your opinions?"
Skyfire stated frankly, "I still find it difficult to grasp the idea of using wooden sticks to fight. But then, my people consider making weapons from the bodies of trees to be blasphemous." He shrugged. "Excluding that, it was impressive. Your moves were quick and the strikes could have been devastating if they landed." With Skyfire's assessment given, all eyes turned to Storm expectantly.
"You were slow," Storm stated bluntly. Tyrsan looked at her with an arched eyebrow. "You could have been much faster if you did not hold yourselves back and followed through with your swings."
"I had no intention of killing Jaison," Tyrsan stated blandly. "It was training only."
Storm shrugged. "You asked my opinion. You have received my opinion. Now we show you the teachings of the Path of the Sword." Hopping lightly down from the wall, she straightened with a feline-like stretch before regarding Skyfire. "Unarmed, knife, single, or double?"
Skyfire considered the two Unsvets, then glanced over towards their friends. He smiled faintly when the bard and gypsies all held up two fingers. "Double, I think." Oblivious to the silent consensus, Storm nodded in agreement, her mind already settling into the focused state she adopted in combat.
Tyrsan frowned a little. "Wait, they are going to use live steel? And no protection?" He started to take a step forward when both Jaison and Lyra blocked his progress with their arms.
"This is Swordanzen tradition," Jaison said quietly. "You had wanted to see it. This is what the desert has known since the Second Sundering." He waved a hand towards the two who moved to face each other in the open area. "My father used to say, the only difference between training and true combat is purpose."
Lyra said softly, her eyes never leaving the pair, "Skyfire says in the desert, it is often too hot to wear much at all, and there are little enough resources to spare for heavy clothing." She glanced at both men. "They never hurt each other more than they can survive while they practice. The risk of death gives them incentive to not make mistakes."
"What?!" Tyrsan demanded, scowling. "I'll not have my people killing each other, accidentally or on purpose!" He narrowed his eyes on the pair of Desanti as they circled one another, hands empty and at their s
ides. He looked sharply at Jaison when the other man caught his arm to stop him from interrupting.
"Just watch, Dulain," Jaison said in a low voice. "And have faith in them. Then you will understand those you have defended for so long."
Who drew first was impossible to tell. The clash of metal on metal echoed off the cliff face as Storm blocked a downward slash with one blade, Skyfire blocking a side blow with his other. They stepped apart, circling again. Skyfire dove as Storm tried to sweep under him with both of her swords, rolling and bouncing back to his feet in one smooth move. He raised his blades and held them pointing downwards across his back as Storm attempted to attack from behind.
The deadly dance continued, each trading blows, blocking or narrowly escaping death repeatedly. The pace increased until the blades were a dizzying flash of silver, and their bodies seemed to be in constant motion. The motion abruptly stopped as they ended up shoulder to shoulder, blades tangled as each blocked a strike to the throat. Breathing heavily, they simply looked at each other before smiling, stepping apart. With a respectful salute to one another, they returned their swords to their sheathes.
Benilus stared, jaw dropped. "By the goddess!" he whispered. "I have never seen such speed!" He barely noticed Mureln or Emil's sympathetic pats on his back or Taylin's quiet chuckling.
Skyfire glanced around, noticing the many eyes that lined the walls and doorways, round with awe. The man smiled in satisfaction to himself, having accomplished his goal of putting the population in awe of them. He embraced Lyra as she ran to him, murmuring reassurances to her.
Storm walked up to Tyrsan, offering him a bow of respect as she asked, echoing his earlier question to her, "Dulain Unsvet. What is your opinion?"
Tyrsan did not reply immediately, his jaw twitching as he kept from responding with the first less than polite words that came to mind. "That was a training pace?"
"That was our training pace," Skyfire clarified, looking over Lyra's head as she finally released him. "Most Desanti are not so fast. Normal Swordanzen never quite approach that speed except in very rare moments." Giving the shorter Storm a fond smile, he said, "In the scant moons I have been Kailee's Githalin, Storm has pushed me further than I would have gone without her."
"I see," Tyrsan stated dryly, regarding Storm who stood proudly, almost defiant as she faced him. Finally, he stated, "You're bleeding."
Storm shrugged indifferently. "I will heal. Taylin obsesses with healing me, so I try not giving her reason to--" Storm looked over sharply towards the audience of their companions, Skyfire looking over in alarm a heartbeat after Storm bolted for the group.
Without explanation, Storm pulled Taylin off the bench and pushed her into Mureln's arms. The Desanti woman, leaning over the place the healer had been seated, suddenly wilted and collapsed to her knees, the copper and gold in her her hair overtaking the brown, then turning pale gold as she was caught in an aging spell. Benilus gasped in horror when an aged Storm looked up with a skeletal face.
Tyrsan caught Storm before she slid off the bench, kneeling as he pulled her into his arms, grabbing her right hand in his. "Mistress, help me set things right," the former soldier begged, closing his eyes as the Timeless One reached through him. Storm gasped, back arching in pain as the aging reversed.
"Damn it," the attacker snarled as she emerged from hiding in the shadows of a building.
"Meredith?!" Benilus exclaimed in shock and anger at the betrayal of Guardian edicts. The woman narrowed her eyes and turned to flee. He raised both hands, his expression hard with focus and emotion. The rogue Unsvet froze as time stopped around her. Benilus released the hold the moment Skyfire and Jaison reached her, looking away as both men's swords erupted through her chest and she slid to the ground in death.
Sagging against the Sevmanan warrior, Storm's breaths came in shuddering gasps, shaking weakly. Tyrsan sighed in relief, chiding her for her struggles to get to her feet. "Easy, Adept. You'll be fine."
Storm shook her head, swallowing hard. "Not. Me. Baby," she struggled to say. Reaching out helplessly towards the healer, Storm looked up into Taylin's eyes as her hand was caught in the other woman's. "Baby!"
Taylin could not help but laugh, almost hysterical in relief. "The baby's fine, Storm. He is perfectly fi--aaaieee!" The Sevmanan woman cried out in surprise at the unexpected pain of a contraction. Managing a weak smile, she asked, "Storm, how do you know these things?
"Taylin?" Mureln's attention focused on his wife as she grabbed his shoulder to keep on her feet.
"It is time," Taylin said unnecessarily.
"Time? Ah, yes." Tyrsan dismissed the fact the Desanti seemed to know before the mother as he turned to toss his quarterstaff to Benilus, helping Storm to her feet. "Send word to Lana to join us. Quickly!" Shocked out of his momentary paralysis at the impending birth, Benilus nodded mutely and ran off.
Emil pointed out after the large gypsy swept Taylin up into his arms, "Emaris says he's gonna carry ye. No arguin' this time!"
"Like I have a choice?" Taylin asked dryly, grimacing as another contraction hit.
Chapter 17
"You are doing fine," Lana said soothingly as Taylin grimaced in pain. "Just one more push and your baby will be here."
Mureln held Taylin, closing his eyes and humming softly in her ear. As she relaxed, her pain easing, she smiled tiredly up at her bardic husband. "What would I do without you?" she whispered before grimacing with another contraction. Moments later, the sound of a tiny wail filled the room.
"There we are! A fine baby boy." Lana quickly cleaned the infant and wrapped him in a blanket before handing him to Taylin. "Healthy set of lungs, but that is to be expected for a Vodani bard's child."
Taylin was cooing over her son. Calming as she cradled him close, the infant looked up at her with eyes a clear blue-green instead of the blue grey most infants were born with. "Oh, Mureln, he's so beautiful! Look at him!"
Mureln stared. "I am looking..." Pushing back the blanket, he touched the soft, multi-colored hair atop the baby's head. "I guess there was more than a slight effect to being tied to the Desanti." He smiled a little, kissing Taylin.
"Considering they channeled nearly all of their life force in Ithesra through me when I healed Almek... Oh, I see what you mean." Taylin laughed tiredly before offering the infant to the bard. "Go on. Introduce him to the others. Emil and Emaris will be impossible to live with if you do not." She lay back with a happy sigh. "You would think they were the fathers, as much as they worried."
Chuckling softly, Mureln gathered the infant in his arms with a practiced ease. "Close enough. We three have been brothers for a long time." Walking out into the main room, the bard smiled as everyone either stood up or stopped pacing. "Our son has arrived."
Emil and Emaris were the first to reach them, the wiry Emil regarding the infant warily. "He be tiny. With all that noise, I'd ha' thought he be bigger." Emaris smiled as the miniature hand wrapped around his little finger. Emil chuckled and added, "Fierce, though. Already tryin' t'wrestle Emaris."
Jaison peered over and blinked. "His hair... He looks... like he is na'Zhekali." He looked over at Storm, who stood at the farthest point in the room from Mureln, her expression unreadable. "Have you a name for him yet?"
Mureln shook his head. "It is Vodani tradition to name a child three days after their birth. Taylin has no objection to waiting."
"I am not surprised he looks na'Zhekali," Skyfire stated. "The na'Zhekali have always been distinctive in appearance." He smiled a little, then looked over at Storm. "Come, th'yala, meet the newest member of our family."
"I can see him from here," Storm stated flatly. When Mureln took a step towards her, she immediately turned and fled outside.
The gypsies traded bewildered looks. "What's th' matter wi' her? Ye'd think she would be happy, given how she nearly died t' keep 'im alive. At least twice!"
Having returned from the archives in time to hear what had happened prior to Taylin going into labor, Ash
sighed without a word, following Storm outside.
Tyrsan approached Mureln to see the newborn, then blinked several times. Reaching forward, he turned the child's head until his left cheek could be seen. Small, barely visible, a metallic slash that seemed to take on a different color depending on the angle glittered in the light. "He bears a divine mark already? This is very unusual..." He exhaled gustily, then looked out towards the outer area that Storm and Ash had gone to, the pair barely visible through the curtains.
Outside, Ash's voice brought the fleeing woman to an abrupt halt. Catching her by the arm, Ash worried at her strange behavior. "Beloved, what is wrong?" He tenderly cupped her cheek to turn her face back towards him. "Taylin is safe, their son is healthy and he will not be taken away from them." She closed her eyes, turning away. "Aelia, talk to me."
"There are so many things that are changing from what I always knew," Storm whispered. "I know it must be. Everything must evolve to adapt to change, or cease being."
"I know, beloved. The Desanti had to adapt to survive the Great War." He frowned, unable to catch her gaze. "There is no shame in what your people had to become to survive. I am exceedingly grateful they had."
She shook her head. "You do not understand, Ash. We stopped changing because our world stopped changing. Nothing changed until Lord Almek brought you to Desantiva. You did what no Desanti could do. What I could not do." Taking a deep breath, she exhaled heavily. "After so long, you brought healing to Desantiva."
"And you did what no Forentan could do," Ash replied with gentle firmness. "You exposed the poisons killing my people, what we were blind to." He shook his head. "It is not a contest, Aelia. The things of the past were done by people in the past. The only ones who owed anything to anyone were my mother the Knowing One and your father the Raging One. They owed it to Their children to mend the rift between Them." He brushed his fingers through her hair. "I restored Dzee because it was the right thing to do."