by Lexy Wolfe
Storm turned away abruptly, taking a few steps to stand at the very edge of the cliff, looking out over the distance. "I killed two tribes," she said, agonized. "Sumalen killed the na'Zhekali tribe hunting for me. If I had not been born, they might still be alive."
Ash moved behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders to draw her back from the edge. "How many more people would have died had you not existed? You lived through that horrible tragedy for a reason, Aelia." Kissing her behind her ear, he said lightly, "You led us to Dzee. Against all your training, you led us to your father where I could restore Dzee." He slid his arms around her, his voice soft. "You were as much a part in healing Desantiva as I was, Aelia. Don't diminish your part. You were the key to Desantiva's restoration."
"No! You don't understand!" Storm pushed him away as she turned to face him. "I swore to protect my people. I failed to protect the Vi'disa tribe. I killed..." She looked at her hands, her voice catching. "I killed babies. So much like him. Infants who could never have defended themselves. I killed them."
Ash kept his voice even. "You had no choice. Dzee had unknowingly tainted the Vi'disa, leaving the tribe's children Cursed. No tribe would have taken them in as their own. They would have suffered for a long time left to the elements. You gave them mercy in a land where there is precious little mercy." He looked over his shoulder, Mureln standing near them with his swaddled son, the bard nodding slightly. Taking a deep breath, Ash straightened, his demeanor hardening. "This nonsense is not serving any purpose, Swordanzen."
Storm looked up sharply at Ash, cheeks flush with anger. The flush abruptly drained away when her eyes were drawn over Ash's shoulder to Mureln, then down to the infant in his arms. She was frozen in place, unable to bring herself to flee as he walked towards her.
"Storm," Mureln said softly. "Our son lives because of your and Skyfire's sacrifices." He looked down at the silent, wide-eyed infant. "The spirit of Desantiva lives within him. You are as much a part of him as Taylin and I are." He held the baby out towards her. "We are a tribe, Storm. All of us." Patient, he whispered, "He is truly a child of the na'Zhekali tribe."
The Swordanzen woman did not move for many minutes, several shades paler. Reflexively, she held her arms for the child offered to her. The bard smiled gently as he carefully handed her the infant, adjusting her arms so he rested comfortably. A small hand escaped the swaddling. Storm let him catch her finger. A sob caught in her throat at his happy sounds and the adoring smile he turned up towards her.
Ash put his arm around Storm, looking at the child. "Someday, it will be our child you hold. And our child will be raised by all of us, as children of a tribe should be raised." Storm closed her eyes, hugging the baby tighter as she bowed her head. Ash hushed her soothingly as Mureln put a comforting hand on her arm.
"I have seen my share of tortured souls," Tyrsan said from the doorway, watching the small group. "But nothing like this."
"The best weapons are forged in the fiercest of fires," Skyfire stated. "And nothing can compare to the fires Storm and Ash have been forged in." He looked at Tyrsan and said flatly, "You are looking in the wrong place, Dulain Unsvet."
Tyrsan looked sharply at Skyfire, frowning. "What? Looking for what in the wrong place? What are you talking about?"
"You know what I speak of," Skyfire replied, his eyes appearing more gold than brown. "You have been looking for a long time to find my people. To find what is missing from Fortress." He turned to walk back inside. "You're looking in the wrong place."
Chapter 18
Ash startled awake, staring around in disorientation before he got his bearings again and he flopped back in the bed with a gusty sigh. He held up his right hand, looking at the star-shaped scar in his palm for many moments, reassuring himself that his spirit brother Nolyn back in Ithesra was well. He smiled at the tickle of response he felt through the bayuli-volsha he shared with the other master mage.
Looking at the empty place beside him, the Illaini closed his eyes. "Goddess, what I would give to have you here, Nolyn. I could do with your blunt honesty and common sense." He could not help but smile sadly at a surge of reassurance through the link.
Restless, he got out of bed and dressed. "I swear the Desanti are ruining my sleep patterns," he muttered as he shrugged into his tunic. "And my people thought getting up at dawn was eccentric." He walked out into the common room, looking towards the windows, the sky barely touched with light. "This before dawn rising is simply madness." He fell silent when he heard a quiet noise. With a small smile, he went to the cradle that resided in the common room by Taylin and Mureln's door. "What's the matter, little one? Did I wake you?" With a cheery squeal, the baby waved his hands happily at the mage.
Ash watched the infant with a vaguely troubled expression, reaching down to brush already thick, soft hair so much like Storm and Jaison's, almost metallic with streaks of lighter red and blond through the darker brown. So lost in thought, he jumped when Mureln joined him. "Imagining he was yours?" Though lighthearted, the bard studied Ash with concern.
"No," Ash replied, still pensive. "When I look at him, it is less like imagining and more like... remembering." The mage shook his head to banish the disturbing thoughts and preempt the inevitable questions Mureln might have asked. "Have you and Taylin decided on a name? Today is his third day."
"We have," the bard replied. "But Taylin wants to wait until sunset before we have the naming ceremony. In the hopes the Desanti come back from their communions with their Totani. Dulain Tyrsan said he knows a place with a body of water and away from the madness here in Sanctuary."
"It will be nice to get away from the training and snide looks and veiled insults." Ash's words seemed distracted, eyes still on the child. After several minutes of silence, he murmured, "He seems so... familiar."
Mureln commented, "Sometimes when it is something you hope for yourself, it feels more like remembering than imagining."
Turning away, Ash went to the glass wall to look outside. "I thought the same thing. But..." He shook his head. "I love Storm more than anything. I do not care how people think of children born of parents of different races. Sharing children with her would be..." He shook his head, at a loss for words. "I would give anything to be able to hold our child. But at the same time, it terrifies me."
"I don't know if Storm is ready," Mureln observed quietly. "She still sees the Vi'disa children when she looks at my son. I can tell even though she's trying very hard to hide it." He chuckled ruefully as he turned towards the cabinet with the wines, taking out two glasses. "Unfortunately, she's too aware of herself to accidentally get with child."
Ash looked over at Mureln with an arched eyebrow. "You think it is unfortunate she can choose when she breeds?" He added with chagrin, "I found myself envying you Vodani and the Desanti for the utter freedom that knowledge allows both your men and women."
"Unfortunate only because I do not know if she will ever feel ready," Mureln replied, turning to offer Ash one of the glasses. "She seems to hold all the tragedies in her life in the present, not letting them go. It is a terrible way to go through life." The bard studied the mage. "You are not ready, either."
Ash grimaced faintly. "I used to think it would be a blessing to be able to choose when to have a child. It has complicated things even more between us." He regarded the bard. "Were you ready to become a father?"
Mureln laughed quietly. "Yes and no. I think when Storm told me that Taylin was pregnant was one of the few times I had been staggered worse than when Emil, Emaris and I would get caught up in bar fights when I was younger and nothing of a brawler. But I would not have it any other way." His smile faded, watching Ash with concern. "What is wrong, Ash?"
"I don't know!" Ash growled. Walking back to the cradle, he looked at the baby who gazed up at him silently with wide eyes. "When I imagine that he is my son... when I look at him, I feel as though I had... failed him. Failed Storm." He turned and stalked away. "Which is ridiculous. But I still cannot shake t
he feelings. I think I have managed to keep them from Storm." He laughed bitterly. "Of course, she would never let me know if she knew, especially since there is nothing to be done about them. If my torment were a greater bear, she'd fight it bare-handed to spare me. But there is nothing for her to face." He sighed softly. "It might only be adding to her self-recrimination over her perceived failure to protect the na'Zhekali or the Vi'disa."
The bard picked up his son, nestling him against himself as he touched the bright divine mark on his left cheek. "Dahla Morria said you had an old soul and an old burden. Perhaps something happened in a previous life that weighs upon you still. Something that you must face to be able to move on."
"To face something requires knowing what it is. It requires remembering it. How am I supposed to remember a previous life?" Ash asked sourly. "Mortals do not remember their previous lives. And I don't want to remember." Draining his glass, he set it on a table and headed towards the archway. "I'm going down to the archives. I promise I will return in time to depart for your son's naming ceremony."
Mureln watched Ash leave, then looked down at his son sadly. "Not even three days, and you are a catalyst for so many things." He kissed his son's brow. "Come on, let's see if your mother is awake yet." As if in answer to his father’s words, he waved his hands, cooing happily.
Chapter 19
"We been walking fer hours!" Emil complained from the back of the group. "Are we goin' to th' other side of th' mountain or what, Dulain?!"
Storm looked over her shoulder at the smaller gypsy, arching an eyebrow. "We have not walked quite one hour."
Emil put his hands on his hips as the others laughed. "Ye Desanti are too damned literal, Storm! I jus' mean we been walkin' fer a long time."
"So why didn't you just say that?"
Tyrsan looked back over his shoulder in amusement as he approached a heavy wall of brush. "We are here." He pulled aside the curtain of foliage covering a nearly unbroken wall of rock to allow them passage through an opening otherwise invisible to the casual observer. On the other side was a hidden, cliff-side glade.
The flat shelf faced due south, the faint glimmer on the horizon hinting at the large southern lake that Sharindel fished. Water fell from the cliff face that made part of the border of the secluded area and splashed into a deep, crystalline pool that spilled over the ledge into the trees below. A bare, flat boulder rested on a protrusion overlooking the valley. The rest was covered in the thickest grass anyone had ever seen.
As Storm and Skyfire entered the grove, their eyes went wide, both staring agape at the ancient tree that dominated the open area only a few paces away from the undergrowth that kept the place otherwise hidden.
Tyrsan was the last to enter, letting the greenery fall back into place. He smiled, pleased by their reactions. "I thought you would find this place appropriate for the boy's naming ceremony. It was here I found the Desanti-born Guardian's lost journals."
Terrence grabbed Ash's arm before the older Forentan could question the two Desanti about why they were both so pale. "Ash, that tree... it is... was... native to Desantiva."
Ash looked at Terrence sharply. "What? You mean from...?"
"From before the Great War." Ash looked sharply at the Swordanzen. With undeniable reverence, both touched the broad trunk. He squinted, uncertain if he'd seen the branches move ever so slightly in response.
The others slowly became aware of their Desanti companions' reactions. "Storm? Skyfire?" Mureln questioned as he and Taylin traded concerned looks. He took one step forward, instinctively putting himself between his wife and son and the tree the pair was reacting so strongly to.
"She is the last of her kind," Storm stated sadly. "She is su'nalia. Spiritkeeper." Looking up at the tree, she managed a smile, holding out her hands as an unusual blossom fell from the branches. Carefully, she worked the tri-petal bloom into her braids before touching her forehead to the rough bark in silent gratitude.
Hand remaining on the trunk, Skyfire stood very still, his eyes closed. "My name is Issonia, keeper of the souls of my lord's children," he stated in a strange voice. "This Su'alin you know as Skyfire honors me by allowing me to speak through him. I have waited for all of you to return here for longer than you know. It pleases me you are all together once more."
The others traded bewildered looks. "Return?" Tyrsan took a step nearer, uncharacteristically uncertain. "This is the first any but myself have been here."
Skyfire smiled a little. "Few have been permitted to find me. Only members of two groups may enter here. Those born of Desantiva. Or true allies of Desantiva." Skyfire slightly tilted his head to one side, eyes still closed. "I, too, am a servant of the Timeless One. But I am a child of the Raging One, as well."
"Issonia," Ash greeted, stepping nearer. "Are you also a child of--?"
"Not all trees are born of the Knowing One," Issonia-Skyfire stated flatly. "It is your kind's prejudiced pride that lets you believe your Great Mother is the progenitor of all green living things." Skyfire's expression reflected the stress of the connection with the tree. "This spirit warrior is young and strong, but he is untrained and unpracticed in his gifts. I will speak quickly."
"Dulain Guardian," Issonia-Skyfire stated firmly. "I permitted you here because your defense of the Desanti has been unwavering and true. I allowed you to find what I protected because I believed it was time, and you were acceptable to the one that those journals belonged to. But do not press the Desanti to give more. Wounds such as Desantiva has suffered will be a long time in mending. As a warrior, you should know it is unwise to push recovery too fast."
Tyrsan nodded, lowering his eyes. "Yes, Issonia. Forgive me for my impatience."
"You are young," Issonia-Skyfire stated, his tone less harsh. "But you do not let your pride override the needs of those you serve. Remember both the Desanti and Fortress needs healing." Raising his head, Skyfire looked towards Taylin and Mureln, his eyes vividly gold. "Bring the child to me."
Taylin hesitated, looking at Mureln uncertainly. He managed a small smile, putting his hand at the small of her back. They both approached together, stopping short when the branches above them began to rustle. Several petals and leaves drifted down. The baby boy, usually calm and silent, squealed and giggled in delight as he waved his hands and kicked excitedly when a small blossom landed on his chest.
Skyfire looked at Storm then. His smile was sad and loving as he reached out to touch her cheek. "It is good to see you again, my friend." As Storm opened her mouth, looking bewildered, Skyfire closed his eyes and stepped back from the tree, shaking his head. When he opened his eyes again, they were their normal golden brown hue. He held out a hand to catch a blossom much like Storm's.
"Could you?" Skyfire asked Storm, offering the bloom with trembling hands. "I cannot steady my hands."
"Of course," Storm replied automatically, steadying him as he knelt so she could reach his braids to attach the flower. "I am confused," she confessed in a whisper.
Skyfire closed his eyes. "I know. I wish I could explain to you, th'yala. But it is not for me to speak on this." He accepted her hand to get back to his feet. He looked towards Taylin and Mureln. "Issonia wished to welcome your son as well." The infant's happy squeals drew chuckles from the adults.
"We should begin soon," Tyrsan pointed out mildly. "The sun is beginning to set."
Mureln nodded and smiled. "Of course." Without a second thought or hint of modesty, he stripped out of his clothing and walked into the pool. He turned to Taylin who kissed her naked son on the forehead before handing him to his father. Walking further into the pool, Mureln stopped when he was nearly chest deep into the surprisingly temperate water, his son partly in the water as well. The baby, having somehow grabbed hold of the flower that had landed on his chest, waved it around happily with the jerky movements of a newborn. The others arranged themselves on the ground or low rocks, watching and listening attentively.
"Since before the Vodani had taken to the va
st oceans and were still Desanti, names have been considered sacred, for they gave you individual identity within your family and clan. When Vodanya's call grew stronger than the land of our birth, names became even more sacred to us.
He looked down at his son fondly. "We are known by many names through the course of our lives. But of all the names we acquire in our lives, three are most sacred. The first is the name of our family, to whom our first ties belong." He smiled, touching the boy's cheek. "It is this name we give up when we choose the paths that serves all people. But it was obvious from his first moments that our son is part of a very old family."
He looked up to meet Storm's eyes. "Through the na'Zhekali ritual, he is a member of the oldest surviving tribe of Desantiva." Everyone chuckled when the boy squealed happily, kicking at the water.
"The second sacred name is our birth name. The Vodanya's rhythms are strong within each of us, and when each of us is born, a piece of her resonance becomes a part of us." Holding a bit of water in his cupped hand, he sprinkled it on the baby's head. "Izkynder, we welcome you among us."
Together, those out of the water stated, "Welcome, Izkynder na'Zhekali." They laughed as the baby shrieked gleefully, kicking vigorously.
Mureln smiled as he looked at Izkynder. "Our third sacred name is our spirit name. It is the name we receive when we become an adult, when we know ourselves and move away from childhood. Among the Vodani, is the name only the bearer of the name and the gods know."
Shifting his hold on the infant from cradling to holding his body, he lowered him into the water. "The Vodanya's rhythms move within all bodies of water. Feel them now, Izkynder, and know the feel of Her love." After a moment of letting the little one kick about in the water alone, he reclaimed his son. Izkynder had the most surprised look on his face as he emerged, then began to kick impatiently as if he wanted to return. "Patience, little one," he soothed. "There will be plenty of time for swimming."