by Lexy Wolfe
Terrence stood slowly, eyes not leaving Storm's. "It would be better if I show you, tlisan," he stated, keeping his voice even. He glanced at Skyfire whose expression was one torn between confusion and dismayed shock. "Both of you." Finally, Storm relented, though her body remained taut with pent up emotion.
Chapter 23
Making use of the quiet, early morning hours to do her work, Ranshya looked up as a suddenly overwhelming feeling of foreboding danger washed over her. Emerging from the work room, she blinked in surprised to see the na'Zhekali, staring at the two Desanti whose expressions were frightening. Waving a runner off to fetch the Dulain, she hurriedly caught up to Terrence at the front of the group, stopping them.
She mustered up a brave, welcoming smile. "Adept Terrence," she greeted. "While I am glad that Adepts Storm and Skyfire have finally decided to grace the archives with their presence after all this time..." She eyed the pair dubiously, uncertain what to do with their obvious unease and reputed violent reactions towards strangeness, "...the hour is quite early. Is there something wrong?"
Terrence glanced over his shoulder at Storm and Skyfire, both agitated about being so far underground on top of the issue with the 'inscription,' and replied honestly, "Yes and no. I wish to show my companions the Desanti vault."
"But why? There is nothing of impor-" Ranshya began, cutting her words off when she met the two Desanti's eyes. Realizing she insulted them with her phrasing, she modified her words, trying to stall until Tyrsan could be brought. "There is nothing there that cannot wait until later. It is the mostly unchanging nature of the archives to be able to wait for us."
"It is essential that they see them now, Master Archivist," Almek stated evenly. "It would be appreciated if we could continue. As you have noted, the hour is quite early and we have not had breakfast yet."
Ranshya's eyes went wide before she lowered them respectfully, bowing deeply. "Dusvet Almek! I did not realize you had returned! Of course you may continue. Forgive me."
"You are forgiven, of course," Almek replied kindly as Terrence guided the two Swordanzen away from the archivist before the pair's agitation shortened their already strained self-control.
Both Ash and Terrence traded a relieved look that the corridor no longer appeared neglected, knowing the insult the two Desanti would have justifiably felt. The tunnel had been swept clean. Mounted sunstone torches illuminated the the formerly neglected hall. Terrence paused when the two stopped just inside the entrance, staring at the echoingly empty chamber. Waiting a moment, he went to them, mutely touching their arms to gain their attention. Nodding towards the steps, he turned and went down them, guiding them through the forest of empty shelves to the far wall and the wall carving that awaited them.
Ash murmured to cast a magelight spell, the color more the soft gold of true sunlight than the colder blue he usually created. The faceted eyes of the creatures in the bas-relief image of the Raging One and his Totani servants gleamed in the light. Both Desanti immediately dropped to one knee in respect before it.
Storm rose and walked towards stone wall, oblivious to the na'Zhekali gathered behind her. "Father?" Storm whispered, taking a step forward, holding her hand up. "Are you truly here?"
I am here. All but the three Githalin jumped as the dragon head turned to regard Storm, touching her palm with his nose. Daughter, a voice both powerful yet gentle echoed in their minds as he greeted both Githalin Swordanzen. Skyfire.
Almek looked back at Tyrsan as the man ran in. The Dusvet held a quieting finger over his lips before the Dulain could make a sound. Tyrsan managed to nod slightly in acknowledgement and went back to staring at Storm and Skyfire and the living image of the Desanti god.
"Father, I am so confused." Speaking in Swordanzen, Storm's voice was that of a young girl, throwing her arms around the dragon's neck. "Please help me understand!"
Tyrsan's eyes went wide. "I do not know the tongue she speaks, but I can understand her," he whispered in awe. "How is this possible?"
"Because of Him," Terrence answered quietly, waving a hand towards the dragon. "In the presence of the Heart of Desantiva, the heart's voice is always understood. Nothing can be hidden behind different tongues."
A tear had streaked down Storm's cheek before she found her voice again. "How could Sumyr have found the inscription he showed me? I obeyed your laws! You said inscription was never to leave Citadel. You said never reveal it to anyone, not even our own people! I have not had the chance to teach it to Skyfire because we have not returned to the holy places. How can it be here? Who took it?! I will kill them for--!"
Calmly, Daughter. There is no need for your anger. The restriction has never been unchanging. Yes, inscription is to remain within the holy places... until the time is right, the Raging One replied gently. Fortress has always been holy to Me and My children. Because Fortress is home to My sister the Timeless One as the Rumblelands are home to Me, and Guardians of Time are as much mortal servants of the divine as My Swordanzen and Su'alin.
Storm closed her eyes, bowing her head as she moved to lean against the dragon image. "Father, was I meant to come here? Was I meant to leave Desantiva?"
The voice was silent, though the god's presence was tangible. Fortress is the home of all peoples, the Raging One finally said. It has been so since the world was born of the Creator and the Destroyer. Before the Great War, those who became known as Totani and Trisari roamed freely, drawn to those mortals who needed them most, regardless of what nation they called their own, before there were separate nations. Before Me.
Ash started, eyes going wide. "The Trisari?" he whispered. He shook his head sharply at Mureln when the bard put a hand on his shoulder in concern. "The Trisari are dead. Since before the Great War...!"
The dragon's eyes seemed to look towards the mage, though the stone itself did not move. They live, Avarian. In your heart, you know they are not gone. The carving shifted, mouth opening for Storm. With shaking hands, she took the original piece of scroll out, not looking at it. Without warning, she dropped it as if burned, and fled. The other na'Zhekali gasped at the sudden burst of intense confusion, pain and utter terror.
Skyfire knelt by the fallen parchment and gently lifted it. He did not even open it, closing his eyes as his hand trembled. "Do you wish this returned, Honored Father?"
Hold it for my daughter until she is ready. The dragon's head returned to its original position as the voice faded in their minds. It is a heavy weight she must bear. She must endure reopening old wounds to heal as she should. So she can help Desantiva's ancient wounds to heal.
"What is written on there that has upset Storm so much?" Tyrsan asked, looking between Terrence and Skyfire.
"It is not for me to say," Terrence stated, no apology in his demeanor.
Skyfire said simply, "I do not know. I had not been able to return to the holy land to complete that part of my Swordanzen training." He looked up at the carving, touching the mountain cat's head. "Perhaps Storm will teach me the sacred inscriptions now that we know this holy place is here." He looked at Ash, infinitely sad. "What I do know of this message is that Storm wrote what is on here. She knows as well."
"Impossible!" Tyrsan took the parchment to look at it closer. "I examined the age of it myself. This is thousands of years old! Both of you are mere decades in age--!"
"I know it is old." Skyfire took the delicate piece of paper back, rolling it back into the tighter roll it had been in. Taking his twin-edged blade, he touched the pommel that slid sideways in his hand, exposing a hollow place in its hilt where he slid it, sealing it in. "Are not our souls timeless, returning time and again to physical vessels?"
"Well, yes," Tyrsan replied, still bewildered. "But we do not remember our previous lives. That is the nature of mortals." Terrence started to say something, going quiet when Skyfire shook his head minutely. "How could she remember that she wrote whatever is on that paper? Such a thing is impossible."
Terrence shook his head. "Untrue. We can rem
ember previous lives in a sense. Emotions, vague memories... sometimes something sharper if it was... painful." He pressed his lips together, putting his hand over his right shoulder for a moment. He nodded once before finishing. "Often it is our past that draws us to or repels us from things when there is no other reason."
Ash stared after Storm where she had disappeared to. "So Storm remembers when she wrote it?"
Skyfire shook his head. "Storm doesn't remember writing it. What I know of the nature of Inscription... When such is written, it can be written with someone in mind. A specific bloodline. A specific vocation. Or a specific person. Or soul. She just... knows she does not want to remember what is written on it. And that torments her." Clenching his jaw, Ash ran after his lifemate to find her.
"Ye aren't going t' tell 'im what it says?" Emil asked the younger Illaini Magus.
"I know some of what is written there, but it is not my place to reveal it. Only when she is ready will Storm tell us what is there," Terrence stated firmly. "Storm lives in Now. Moreso than any other Desanti who has ever lived, not because she must, but because she believes she must. What is inscribed on the paper is meaningless presently because she hasn't even read it yet. It is less about how old it is or who authored it than what those things mean in her mind." He looked at Skyfire who looked away as Lyra put her arm around his. "Tell them."
Dark skin flushed with shame, Skyfire struggled to speak. "Many of our people suffer from… I can only describe it as an inability to comprehend time. It is a flaw born only to those of Desanti descent." He closed his eyes. "Storm is one of them."
Tyrsan narrowed his eyes. "She seemed fine to me. I have seen no abberations in Storm's training."
Skyfire shook his head and sighed gustily, looking sideways at Terrence. "Forenten are better with words than we Desanti are, but I will try." He looked to the Raging One in silence, gathering his thoughts. "In Desantiva, most children do not survive to be born. Most who are born do not survive to become adults. Few survive to become elders. To look into the past, it is difficult to see the joys amidst the grief. To look into the future, it is difficult to look past the likelihood of loss to hold onto hope. To dwell on either for long is often a path to madness, driving many to seek the solace of death. To die well in the hopes one will be reborn into a better situation."
Ranshya covered her mouth, eyes wide. "Oh, how horrible," she whispered.
The Swordanzen man continued after taking a deep breath. "Elders... they are the ones who were or are able to endure looking back or forward. Until they reach a point it drives them to seek death also. To die well. In our eyes, Forenten live forever where we are merely a flash in the darkness, like the warriors of heaven... what you call shooting stars."
He looked at Lyra who slipped her arms around his waist as she nestled against his side. "To fight against that specter of darkness, the Totani taught us to seek the patterns that define us. They taught us the Paths that define expectations for every role within the tribes, every method of serving our great father, and how to discover which path calls to us. It was a boon, allowing us to think no longer on the past or the future, just proceeding through life following the expected patterns. But it has also served to… cripple us."
Almek frowned thoughtfully. "It is more than simply looking beyond the patterns. Trying to deviate from them is traumatic." Skyfire nodded simply, eyes averted.
Tyrsan's eyes rested unwaveringly on Skyfire. "Do you also have trouble with comprehending time?"
"Not nearly as much as Storm, but… yes." The tall, dark man sighed and waved a hand towards the empty shelves. "This place... these archives. What they represent... an infinite number of patterns… it is a struggle. It is simpler not to think of them as our patterns." He touched the hilt where he had placed the scrap of parchment. "This touches on something across lifetimes for her."
Terrence explained reluctantly, "Imagine if thousands of years ago, you wrote a letter to your future self. But you are a mortal who is not meant to remember such things as past lives, suddenly having to remember. Our people romanticize the possibility, imagining all the past joys and triumphs. Desanti would… not." He looked in the direction Storm and Ash had left. "Change that happens too fast is as traumatic as any physical injury to a mind unused to such."
Taylin gasped, covering her mouth. "It broke her mind," she whispered. "When she says it hurts to think about some things... she means it literally?"
Skyfire managed a wan smile. "My people do tend to be very... literal." He looked at Jaison. "Surely you have felt it sometimes?"
"I focused on tasks at hand," Jaison admitted. "I never thought about it often but yes, sometimes I would feel something when I would look back or forward. But I have never gone mad, obviously."
"You can thank Almek for that," Mureln said as he looked at the carved figures of the god and his servants. "You were a child still when he spirited you away from Desantiva. You grew up and matured where change is not such a foreign concept. No one even noticed your lack of magic because the Vodani were still part of Desantiva during the Great War and are equally bereft of magic. We had Vodanya to soothe our wounds and heal us, but there are times…" He shook his head. "The flaw is a part of us as well." Taylin opened her mouth, her expression one of worry.
Mureln interrupted before she could ask anything. "But I am puzzled. There are things more ancient than that parchment. Like that stone pillar she called A'tyrna Ulan in the desert. Why would touching that piece of parchment hurt her when other things do not?"
Looking at the hilt of his blade, Skyfire pressed his lips together. "It is not the age of the object that matters, but the perception of time itself. It is like… We know Almek is old. But we do not think about him becoming old. We know that children grow into adults and perhaps elders.
"But a child is a child until they have earned their Naming Blade, and then they are an adult in our eyes. We do not dwell on how a child may grow up and what they may be, because they might never do so and it is hard to look away from tragedy. We do not dwell on the past when someone was young because we might look to other painful pasts that did not end well. There are things that children must do, there are things that adults do, and there are signs that tell us when it is time for them to happen. Every type of role has its purpose in Desanti society. We have learned how to adjust our perception to preserve our very existence."
The lingering touch of Storm's agonized torment abruptly ended, leaving the bewildered na'Zhekali feeling a void where half of the heart of their tribe had been. Looking over his mother's shoulder, Izkynder frowned as he tugged her hair. "Where Sta-im?"
Chapter 24
"Storm!" Ash stopped just inside Issonia's ledge, looking around desperately. "Storm, where are you?!" A rustle of leaves drew his attention to the shadow huddled in the tree's roots facing the waterfall. He paused just outside of Storm's weapons' reaches before carefully getting nearer. He tentatively rested his hand on her shoulder, flinching at the chaos that seemed to radiate from the core of her being. "Beloved?"
"It hurts," Storm moaned, curled into a ball, hands over her head. Looking up at him, she drew her knife, offering it to him with shaking hands. "Please," she whispered. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want to hurt you. Make it stop hurting. I can't... I can't--" she choked.
Ash carefully took the knife, setting it aside slowly as he put his arms around her. "Aelia," he said simply, pulling her into his embrace. Hushing her gently, he murmured a sleep spell until she eventually fell unconscious.
But the torture in her mind did not ease. Sighing, he simply held her, eyes closed. "Aelia, why are you still suffering like this?" He kissed her brow tenderly. "What can I do to help you?"
"If I told you, would you do it?" a feminine voice asked. "No matter the cost?"
Ash's eyes snapped open. He frowned at the woman in the water. He opened his mouth to reply, then stared when she slipped out of the water, flipping her tail. "Who--? What--?"
"I am Selina." She pushed her wet hair over her shoulder. Eyes sparkled like the patterned scales on her lower half in the sunlight. "I am what your kind calls a mermaid. I serve the Timeless One."
Ash sat up a little. "The Timeless One?" He looked down at Storm, tenderly brushing a tendril of hair out of her face. "Tell me what to do to help her. Please, I cannot bear to see her suffer like this."
Selina tilted her head. "Do you not want to know why she suffers? Or what will help mend her?" A hint of amazement in her voice, she asked, "or what the cost will be? For it will be dear."
"I do not care about what or why, and it would not matter if you told me before I agreed to do whatever would help her. I would give my life if it would spare my lifemate this suffering," Ash stated flatly.
Selina studied the man for a moment. "Very noble of you. But if you cannot live without her, do you not think she cannot live without you?"
Ash felt his cheeks flush. "I was being... sentimental. Exaggerating my description of how much I love her."
"You need not pretend you exaggerate. My mistress knows the truth of it. You would be willing to sacrifice your own life for hers. She would do the same for you." The mermaid chuckled softly. "Contrary to your claim, you are not simply being sentimental. Your lives are very literally tied to one another. If one of you dies, the other will as well." The mage grimaced, looking away from the mermaid. "My mistress has a fondness for both of you. She wishes to help."
Ash looked up sharply. "For us? Why?"
Selina looked over her shoulder into the pool, then back. "I cannot tell you more than She knew you both in another life."
The words echoed in his mind, troubling him. "Another life?" he murmured, caressing Storm's cheek with the backs of his fingers tenderly. "Then tell me what Storm suffers from. What tortures her so?" Ash did not look up at Selina, his eyes only for the unconscious woman in his arms. "I can feel her pain as if it were my own, like cold claws closing around my heart, threatening to stop it at its worst. She keeps trying to hide to protect me from whatever it is, but I know... I know it will not work." As much to the mermaid as to the heavens above, he asked despairingly, "Why does she suffer so much?"