The Timeless One

by Lexy Wolfe

  Terrence did not reply to Ophilia immediately, closing his eyes tightly as he struggled to assuage the surge of emotions and thoughts of both his Totani Dzee and his goddess the Knowing One. When the pain of communing eased, he reached up to snatch Petal out of the air. "Hush! You're going to draw attention," he whispered harshly. The forest sprite meeped and froze, looking like an odd small figurine. He just shook his head, tucking her in his robe pocket until she decided to relax.

  "What happened? It wasn't Dremmen, was it? Or one of his cronies?" Ophilia asked worriedly. "Gods, if you were hurt because of me, I will never forgive myself."

  Sighing gustily, Terrence smiled lopsidedly at Ophilia. "We need to go somewhere private. I have something I need to explain... and show you." Heading into the myriad of tunnels, they walked in silence until they reached one of the tunnels that opened onto an empty wild area that overlooked the valley beyond. There, Ophilia sat on a fallen tree, watching with a perplexed expression as he took off his robe.

  It was when he took his tunic off and turned his right side towards her that her jaw dropped and eyes widened as she stared at the black wyvern tattoo. "Oh, my gods! Your shoulder! Isn't that a-a--?!"

  "Yes," Terrence said simply. "It is a Desanti Githalin mark."

  She looked from his shoulder to his forearm. "But... you are Illaini." He nodded once. She tentatively touched the black image. "It is warm, like your Illaini mark is cool. How... how is this possible?"

  Terrence shrugged as he slipped his tunic on again. "It is a long story." He stood in front of her, looking into her eyes. Gently, he touched her cheek with one hand. "I care about you, Ophilia. Your pure and unbiased love of learning and discovery is as beautiful as you are. I do not tell you my secret only because I trust you, but so you can see for yourself, a person can be beloved of two gods. Perhaps someday three in my case."

  Ophilia was silent for a time, covering the hand on her cheek. "Terrence, you would be in danger from these... purists... if they found out."

  "Undoubtedly." His expression was grave. "Storm convinced me to tell Ash about my... marks, because she feared such a secret could be used as a weapon against me or any of us. A distraction during a battle, stirring doubt because of deception and the question of possible duplicity shaking the foundation of trust between me and others. Between the time he left and Bella returned with him in Sharindel, I thought I had lost him and I would be shunned because--"

  Without saying a word, she silenced him with a kiss, embracing him. "Tell me everything. I want to understand." Touching his arm, she asked, "The pain?"

  "It aches when I commune with the Knowing One or Dzee. The more intense the communication, the more it hurts." He closed his eyes. "They have never been so angry at the same time. Outraged that those with the ability to touch many energies live in secrecy and fear. And I know that soon, I will have to reveal my secret to the world because Storm is right; it could be used against me and--" He looked into her eyes when he felt her hand on his cheek.

  "I would never betray you, Terrence," she whispered. "There is nothing wrong with you. I think you are incredibly blessed. And so am I, to be able to call you friend." Terrence could not bring himself to smile, fighting tears of relief at her heartfelt words. Grabbing her in a fierce embrace, he held her as tightly as she held him. From his pocket, Petal peeked out and, putting her chin in her hands, watched the pair with a fond smile.

  Chapter 4

  The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the empty cavern of the Desanti racial archives. Tyrsan leaned against the wall by the table Ash sat at. Strewn across the surface were the Desanti-born Guardian's journals.

  "Adept," the Dulain intoned, his inflection startling Ash from his studies. "You are not going to find anything in those about the fate of the Desanti-born Guardians." Pulling out a chair, he joined the Illaini Magus. "Believe me. I had scoured them myself so much, I could likely rewrite them symbol by symbol in the author's own hand." He sat a bottle of brandy on the table and a pair of cups, pouring for them both. "Even the parts written in whatever unknown tongue he used."

  Sitting back with a gusty sigh, Ash rubbed his face, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment. Accepting the drink, he tapped the open book in front of him. "I disagree. The answers I am seeking are within those passages. I can feel it."

  "I am not the most knowledgeable of the written dialects, but I know those," Tyrsan tapped the cover of the nearest book, "are unlike any tongue known, save for whatever is written on that scrap." He waved vaguely towards the great altar to the Raging One a short distance away.

  Taking a long sip, Ash sighed heavily. "Terrence and I have both communed with the Knowing One. It is a mystery to her as well. However..." He stopped himself from mentioning anything about Dzee and Terrence's communing with her. "We suspect that it is a written Desanti tongue."

  "Oh?" Tyrsan arched his eyebrow. "I had not considered that. Have you asked the Swordanzen?"

  The mage shook his head, draining half the cup. "I doubt it would do much good. They are both adamant that writing is an 'outlander thing.' If you had not insisted they be tutored by Benilus to learn the spoken and written tongues of the other lands, they would have nothing to do with that much. They drew weapons when Jaison tried to get them down here."

  Tyrsan quirked a rueful smile. "They are rather rabid about avoiding the archives, aren't they? A prejudice I hope that can be shaken." Tracing an imprint on a book cover, he said sadly, "We need them to return the balance. Their insight into their own people might help us bring Desantiva back out of exile so the world is whole again."

  Ash regarded Tyrsan's profile with a frown. "You're not speaking in euphemism. The world? I thought it was only Fortress that had been... unbalanced."

  The Dulain's expression was a twist of chagrin and bitterness. "That is the face we Guardians put forward, because we do not wish to risk causing panic among the mundane peoples beyond Her sovereign territory. Nor do we wish for the mundane peoples to begin doubting us."

  "Mmm." Setting his cup down lightly, Ash's focus was on it as he chose his words carefully. "I think Emil would say, ye be more worried 'bout coverin' yer arses."

  The play on the gypsy man's heavy accent made Tyrsan's lips twitch briefly in amusement before he sighed. Refilling his glass, he muttered, "For some... for many, it is more about ego. For others of us, we fear if people began doubting Her mortal servants, it would lead to doubting Her divine servants and ultimately doubting our mistress."

  Ash mused over Tyrsan's words for several moments. "Yes. I understand." He pulled the larger book back towards himself. "It is much of my own fears for my mother goddess. So many in Forenta have turned away from Her." He looked up with an arched eyebrow when Tyrsan put an obscuring hand on the page.

  "Illaini Magus, I have no doubts if there is anyone who can pry knowledge from these journals, it is you. However, you must balance your hunger for knowledge with the realities of having a lifemate who lives in the moment." Seriously, Tyrsan pointed out, "You have spent no time at all with Storm since Izkynder's birth."

  "I spend time with Storm," Ash replied defensively.

  "And have you noticed she has been extraordinarily withdrawn?" Tyrsan demanded.

  The Forentan man bristled. "Storm is always extraordinarily withdrawn." He flinched when the larger man slammed his fist on the table. Despite his Forentan aloofness, he could not conceal his instinctive fear as it flashed across his expression.

  "Damn it, man!" The Dulain's eyes caught the light in such a way that they seemed to blaze with an inner fire. "How can you share a true lifemate bond with a warrior such as that girl and not realize she needs you by her side to know she is not going to die alone!"

  "Storm is not going to die at all!" Ash stood to face Tyrsan, glowering back at the huge man. "Why the hell do you think I am down here?!" Waving a hand at the books and notes, he stated icily, "I have to find a way to make sure she is never at risk of another reliving episo
de!"

  "That is not what I mean, and you know it," Tyrsan seethed. "Don't be such a damned stubborn fool. Warriors always see their time among the living as limited. I expect to see that in her eyes." Punctuating his words by jabbing his finger in the table, he growled, "What I have seen in Storm's eyes is what I used to see among my men when we faced a battle we thought hopeless to win. For whatever reason, she sees her death looming and she needs you to remind her she has something to live for." The temptation to strike the stubborn Forentan man was too great and Tyrsan turned to stalk away. "There is more to life than these damned books, no matter what you or any archivist believes."

  Chapter 5

  After searching for hours, Emil and Emaris finally located Mureln at Waterfall Ledge that overlooked Sanctuary proper. The bard sat on the edge of the cliff next to the stonework of the pool fed by a natural waterfall, watching the overflow fall into a fountain far below. "Hey," Emil called cheerfully. "Taylin's been worryin' after ye."

  "I know," was the atypically monotone response. "I needed time to think."

  The two gypsies traded worried looks. "Ye need more of th' senasa root? We ken get in touch wi' th' hidden clan and--"

  "I don't need more senasa root!" Mureln snapped, finally glaring over his shoulder at the two. "What I need are answers from the two of you to the questions that are distracting me from focusing on my own problem."

  "Er, of course," Emil replied, trading a perplexed look with Emaris. "Ye know we'd tell ye anythin', Mureln. Yer like a brother to us."

  Slowly, Mureln got to his feet to face the pair. "Brothers enough to confirm you know about the Shodwyn when I told you about them, but not about the both of you being ghost guard?" Neither gypsy could bring themselves to meet the harsh look in the Vodani's eyes. "You knew it was a betrayal of my word to Almek I would never speak of the shadow folk again. But after traveling with you both for over ten years, everything we endured together! I had not proven myself trustworthy? I was just some outsider troublemaker to you?"

  Emil held up both hands defensively. "Ye don't understand, Mureln. It ain't be like that a' t'all."

  Scowling darkly, Mureln's voice was as chill as ice. "Then do explain so my feeble mind can comprehend."

  Emil scowled back at Mureln, clenching his fists, tensed to sock the bard; Mureln echoed the posture as the smaller gypsy yelled, "Don't ye start that shit wi' me!" Emaris put himself between the two before they came to blows, his dark expression speaking his worry and disappointment in them enough that they both backed down from taking their frustrations out on each other physically. "Ain't there things ye ain't told us about bein' a Vodani? Or a bard? B'sides, when we threw our lot in wi' ye, we had t' give up bein' active ghost guard."

  "I concealed nothing from you that mattered. I just never mentioned anything I did not think would be necessary to either of you," Mureln replied, his tones less chill. "Nor did you ever ask about anything. Since we traveled inland, you did not need know anything about Vodani life beyond the shores." Closing his eyes, he turned away. "Except one thing I was forbidden by my goddess to share."

  Emil crossed his arms, smirking a little. "What? That ye be god-touched?" When the bard's expression went blank in shock and his hand went to his jaw, the wiry gypsy shrugged. "Ain't no surprise, Mureln. Ain't no man in this world be as insanely honest as ye be in his art as you, less they had a god listenin' in. Our people's gods be twins, ye know. Th' Seeing One and th' Singing One prefer t' remain unnoticed, so's they ken do their work."

  "How... long did you know?" Mureln asked, his anger drained away in his shock. Touching the right side of his jaw again, a swirl of pearlescent white curled around his ear briefly before fading again.

  Emaris smirked and signed off handedly. Emil chuckled quietly. "Aye, we dinna really think much 'bout it 'til we hooked up wi' the Desanti. Once ye start gettin' so many god-touched inna small area, ye start t' notice things." Emil's smile faded as he walked over to Mureln, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Ye be our brother, Mureln. We heard th' kin song when we crossed paths back then an' wanted t'keep yer arse safe when ye be wanderin' around the inland. There be no other reason than that fer stickin' wi' ye all these years."

  "Because Vodani away from the sea are like fish out of water?" Mureln asked with a weak chuckle. Grabbing Emil's and Emaris's hands tightly, he said, "Sorry. I guess having this guy in my head is starting to mess with me more than I realized--" As one, all three froze, frowning in puzzlement. "Do you feel that? The hair on the back of my neck stood up."

  "Aye. Feels like lightnin's 'bout t'strike." Trading knowing looks, they stated in unison, "Storm."

  Not knowing where they were going, the three ran, letting instinct guide them until they arrived at one of the interior grottos between the main complex and their own, where Storm stood between Dremmen and a woman who was weakly trying to push herself up. Dremmen looked darkly amused. "What are you going to do, Desanti? That woman is gypsy filth who should not have been allowed to stray out of Sharindel and into Sanctuary. You strike me, and by the Dulain's own edicts, you will be expelled from Sanctuary."

  Storm had her Githalin blades drawn, teeth bared. Her expression was so feral, her three companions were taken aback by the sheer inhuman aspect on her features. Just as the rest of their group and their mentoring Unsvets arrived, Storm shouted and lunged towards Dremmen. The man cowered instinctively. Sunstone light flashed from the swords in streaks. Then Storm stopped, swords at her sides, everyone frozen in horrified shock that she would attack a Guardian.

  Everyone's shock started changing to confusion when Dremmen did not fall.

  Emil elbowed Mureln and said loudly, "I do na think he realize he be dead."

  "But there is no blood," Mureln replied, perplexed as everyone else that Dremmen was still standing. Murmurs of surprise erupted from their friends and others when Dremmen unfolded his arms, as stunned as anyone else to discover he was alive.

  "Guardians bring no bodily harm to mundane or their own without cause," Storm stated coldly. Sliding the blades back in their sheaths across her back, she turned her back on the Unsvet. "You violated the laws. I did not." She paused by Ash and Terrence, glaring over her shoulder. "Go prong yourself." The pair of Illaini Magi stared at Dremmen with hard, cold looks, turning to follow the Desanti back to their quarters.

  "Where do you think you are going, Desanti?" Dremmen demanded at her back as she vanished up the tunnel. His words cut short when, as he uncurled from his standing fetal position, his clothing began to slide off from his body, the slices in the garments becoming visible. He fumbled to catch the fabric, forced to cover his genitalia with what remained. His fair skin turned deep red as laughter erupted from the observers. He caught sight of the the large man separating himself from the crowd from the lower tunnel. "Dulain Tyrsan! Did you see what that dog did?!"

  "I did," Tyrsan intoned, waving Mureln and the gypsies to help the fallen woman. "And her name is Adept Elite Storm il'Thandar." Taking Dremmen by the elbow, he firmly steered him towards the main tunnels. "I tire of your incessant prattle, your utter contempt and disrespect of everyone around you, and your thinly veiled attempts to hold yourself as having greater authority than that of the goddess-chosen Dulain." Jerking Dremmen back briefly, he fixed a hard look on the man. "You will wish the Swordanzen had put you out of your misery, Dremmen." Dremmen's protests were vocal and unending, echoing throughout the cavern and tunnels. Most departed once the excitement had died down, chattering in amazement at the Desanti's display of her martial skill and the Unsvet's shaming.

  Emil knelt by the fallen woman, startling when she looked up. "Itena?" He touched her cheek where a bruise had started darkening her dark skin. "What in th' world happened?"

  The woman swept her hair back over her shoulder as she shot a glare in the direction Dremmen went. "Your Desanti woman noticed me and cornered me. I guess no one told her that servants are generally ignored by Guardians and Adepts." She quirked a wry smile. "I could not
convince her that I was merely a servant. But I think I nearly had her convinced I wasn't a threat to any of you." Itena closed her eyes. "That's when that horrible man showed up and accused me of being a spy for the gypsy caravans and struck me."

  "And Storm being Storm, she defended you despite not trusting you," Mureln observed. "Though I cannot be certain she did so out of principle or because she really hates Dremmen that much. Probably some of both." Taking her other hand, he and Emil assisted Itena back to her feet. "Come, we'll make sure you get back home all right." She nodded, not arguing with Emil as the man put her arm through his.

  When they arrived at Gypsy's Grotto, the group was swarmed with the few members of the hidden clan that remained in the mountain while the others were in Sharindel. "I am fine," Itena assured. "Nothing more than some bruises, I assure you." Eventually, they calmed and disbursed to their routines.

  They sat in the circle of benches, accepting the drinks offered to them. Mureln's eyes had rarely left the gypsy beauty, intently scrutinizing. Finally, the bard asked simply, "Why wouldn't Storm be convinced you were merely a servant?"

  The woman sighed softly, lowering her eyes. "There are old stories about the Desanti our clan has passed down over the generations for the past two thousand years. About how they possessed senses sharper than any creature that ever lived. But over time, while we told the stories out of duty, we believed they were exaggerations. I assure you… they are not." Holding up her right hand, palm outward, a divinely wrought mark of an eye appeared in her palm. "I am a Seer of the Seeing One. And..." She covered her right cheek with the palm of her right hand for a heartbeat.

  When she lowered her hand, the three could only stare at the dark red stripe of color. "Ye be a Guardian of Time, too?" Emil asked numbly.