by S. S. Segran
Nal spun around and headed back to the door. Huyani caught up to her, grasping her elbow. “Wait! Did you not hear me?”
“I must see him,” Nal whispered, looking up at her pleadingly.
Huyani softly cupped Nal’s cheeks in her hands. In an impossibly gentle voice, she said, “It is my duty being the older one, no matter how slight our gap in age may be, to ensure that you are safe, and to ensure that all is well. Tell me what is bothering you.”
Nal almost broke down at her touch. She buried her face deeper into Huyani’s hands. “For my peace of mind,” she murmured, “please let me go.”
Huyani’s mouth thinned, but she handed over her own jacket. “Take this. It is lined with wool on the inside and I have waxed the top layer myself. It will serve you well.”
Nal undid her cloak and adorned the thicker garment. “Thank you, Huyani.”
“You are most welcome. Be safe.”
With that, Nal dove back into the cold, hood pulled up, collar resting snugly over her nose. Crossing over the nearest of the three bridges, she continued westward. There was no way to track time, and it was hard to make out much in the storm, but she’d wandered the valley for eighteen summers and knew the layout by heart.
Finally arriving at the school, she shut the wooden door firmly behind her and crept through the single hallway, moving silently to avoid disrupting the six different classes happening in rooms on either side of her. She saw Akol and another guard at the far end, keeping watch over Hutar as he reinforced one of the log beams ten feet overhead.
When the outcast youth spotted her, his harsh face softened ever so slightly. Then he glanced at the guards and returned to his work. Akol frowned at him before looking down the hallway and taking in Nal’s approach. Clear disapproval shadowed his features before he got control and received her with a genial nod of his head. “Hello, Nal. Did you brave the blizzard just to come here?”
“Yes. I must speak with Hutar.”
Akol grudgingly raised a brow at the youth above. “I suppose you will need to put your work aside for a bit.”
Hutar shrugged and lowered himself by his arms with the strength and ease of a mountain lion, dropping to the floor. Nal glanced at the guards. “If we could have some space, please.”
“You know we cannot do that,” the other guard said.
Nal met Akol’s eyes imploringly. “Just a few minutes. It—it is for my research with Magèo, which I cannot quite reveal yet.”
For a moment she was afraid Akol wouldn’t buy it, but he gestured to the other guard and they moved off, though still remaining where they’d be able to keep watch. Hutar gazed down at her, head tilted. “Nal? What is it?”
“Be honest with me,” she whispered.
He brought his face closer to hear better. “With what?”
“The things I have shared with you, about the Chosen Ones’ missions and whereabouts. Tell me you did not share them with the harbinger.”
His expression was impenetrable, as it usually was. “Are you accusing me of working with Reyor?”
“Are you?”
“Nal, if I so much as reach out in the novasphere—which is the only way we could communicate given my circumstances—my wardens would sense it and report me. The Elders would then also sense the harbinger’s presence. Correct me if I am wrong, but it has been many years since that has happened. Aside from that, how could I possibly be in league with such a person? How could we have met?”
“That is exactly it! You never mentioned what happened when you and Aesròn ran away, always skirting around the questions asked. No one knows anything!”
Hutar pinched the bridge of his nose, huffing an exasperated, tight laugh. “Fine. You want to know what happened? Why we thought the outside world was not meant for us?”
Nal hated how much she wanted to take his face in her hands, to smooth the tension on his brow and fervently assure him that he could always open up to her. He is so damaged, but there is still an ember of goodness in him. If he would just allow himself to acknowledge it . . .
She saw the way he tried to suppress the light inside him, convincing himself that he’d given his entire being over to the shadow of his nature. Perhaps he felt it was easier to let the darkness wrap around him. His whole childhood and adolescent years had been spent in grief and hate despite his uncle’s hard work. That had become his identity. Hutar feared change the most, and if that change required him to let go of who he was, Nal suspected he would fight it tooth and nail. But she would not give up on him. Perhaps everyone else had, but she refused to allow his soul to waste away when she knew it could be salvaged.
“Yes,” she said. “Please tell me what happened.”
Hutar lifted his chin, staring over her head. “It was degeneracy. It was confusion, and chaos, and division, and strife, and scavenging opportunists and self-righteousness and intolerance and pain and suffering. Dema-Ki is a haven, an oasis in the midst of everything. That is why we returned.”
“Surely that is not all the outside world is.”
“No. There was some beauty, I will admit as much. But it was all so . . . overwhelming. Boxes with flashing images, modes of transportation that move at extraordinary speeds on land, water and air, amphitheaters where all different kinds of sports are played with thousands of people cheering, all these strange foods, small devices that physically capture sights and sounds as ways to store one’s memories . . .”
Nal placed a thumb on his chin to tilt his gaze back down to her. “It does sound overwhelming. But did you or Aesròn come in contact with the harbinger?”
He blinked slowly, the corners of his mouth cutting up in a ghost of a sad smile. “No, Nal. We did not.”
Her thoughts raced in every direction. At last, she decided she would not speak to him about the Chosen Ones again. Whether or not he was telling the truth, it would be for the best, though it agonized her to come to that conclusion. It felt as if she were admitting defeat somehow.
“Why the sudden interrogation?” Hutar asked, leaning back to rest against the wall.
“Elder Ashack confronted me today while I was running errands. He suspects you might be sharing—or, rather, that I have been too careless with what I have told you. And now he forbids communication between us.”
Hutar rolled his eyes, and Nal’s heart sank when she saw the walls rise up around him again. “Perhaps it is for the best,” he said. “That way, when the harbinger continues to foil the Elders and the Chosen Ones, it will be evident that neither you nor I had anything to do with their conflict. Go, Nal. You do not deserve to be put through my trials with me.”
“Hutar—”
He leapt, catching the beam overhead, and swung back onto it to resume his task. She gaped up at him but when he didn’t look at her, she turned and swept out of the building, barely nodding her thanks to Akol and the other guard as she left. The storm blustered on as she carried herself toward Magèo’s laboratory. The old man wasn’t there when she arrived, so she threw herself into her work, keeping her mind and hands busy to bulwark herself against the roiling sea of pain threatening to drown her.
In Dema-Ki the next day, the Elders gathered inside their assembly neyra. Nageau was the first to arrive. When the others entered, they found him with his back to them, gazing at the miniature replica of their ancestors’ island home. The diorama boasted golden beaches and a volcanic peak in the center overlooking little homes and shops. A temple, small but carved with careful detail, was situated away from the other buildings.
Nageau slowly ran a finger over one of the beaches. He recalled a story he’d read in one of the old volumes stored within the neyra’s cellar—how one night, after the annual celebration of the coming together of two different peoples and the formalization of their union as a new civilization, the Islanders had awoken to find their shores glowing with light, its source unknown. It was a display unlike anything they’d ever seen, and the ground itself seemed to hum with new life that flowed throu
gh the men, women, and children. The following morning, the Islanders scoured the beaches and, to their astonishment, found hundreds of crystals of different colors. But something else had appeared as well—the five lathe’ad.
Without turning to look at his companions as they shut the door behind them, Nageau said, “We have two important developments to discuss. Let us begin.”
They took their seats on the low benches around the fire pit. Tayoka had already lit a flame and kept it small enough so that smoke wouldn’t fill up the space. As a precaution, he cracked a window open.
Nageau took in the gathering. Beside him was his mate, Tikina, eternally regal in a light green winter tunic that matched her gentle eyes. Her dark, wavy hair framed her defined face perfectly as she gazed at him.
Across from them, Ashack was, as always, in his sleeveless moose-hide shirt that left his muscled arms at the mercy of the elements, which never seemed to bother him. On his right sat Saiyu, his mate, and Tayoka was on his left.
The five of us have been serving together as Elders for nigh on fifteen years, Nageau thought. What a responsibility we share, especially now.
He lightly flicked his head to clear his thoughts, then began the meeting. “As you know, most of the Sanctuaries have been searched and Jag is nowhere to be found. There is one additional Sanctuary we have yet to check, but as of now its location is unknown. While the remaining four Chosen Ones and most of the Sentries infiltrated and escaped the sites relatively unscathed, I am deeply saddened to say that we have lost two of our brethren. They were with Dominique Mboya, and she is heartbroken that she could not retrieve their bodies. As far as we know, they remain within the Mali Sanctuary.”
“What were their names?” Saiyu asked quietly.
“Seku Keita and Ahmad Aya.”
“We will keep their souls in our prayers,” Tayoka murmured.
The Elders held peace for a few moments. Nageau bit the inside of his cheek; in about one moon cycle, they’d lost four Sentries. He’d never expected that his time as leading Elder would require him to make decisions that would cost lives, and he was unsure how to handle the guilt he was trying to keep at bay.
Tikina rubbed her shoulders as she stared into the fire. “This sixth Sanctuary—the Heart, as we believe it is called—what all do we know about it?”
“New information has come to light via Victor’s informant in the New Mexico Sanctuary,” Nageau answered. “It is all hearsay, but from what little we know, I have a budding suspicion that Reyor has somehow rebuilt our home island.”
As though scandalized by his words and the mention of the name, the flames in the fire pit suddenly leapt a couple of feet, painting the Elders in its vibrant, flickering hue before settling down. But its outrage seemed to have jumped into Ashack, whose eyes narrowed into slits that glinted beneath his black curls. “Impossible. No one knows the exact location anymore, so how could the harbinger?”
Nageau merely shook his head.
“That is no help,” Ashack said. “What are we to do, send the Chosen Ones and the Sentries on another wild chase for something we have close to no information about?”
“Of course not, but my intuition tells me that rebuilding the island is exactly what the harbinger would do.”
“If I remember correctly,” Tayoka said, “Victor mentioned that he had asked another Sentry to look into the Heart prior to the younglings’ families moving to Dema-Ki.”
“Deverell,” Saiyu jumped in. “Any news on that front?”
“None,” Nageau replied.
“Then as far as I am concerned, this is a subject we can talk in circles about and get nowhere,” Ashack said. “We ought to table it for now.”
Nageau was not keen, but he understood the logic. Still, he thought, I can search our records for mentions of the island’s location myself. And perhaps Magèo could—no, he is preoccupied with the Trees of Life as well as constructing means to protect the village. He glanced at his mate. Tikina then, perhaps.
Saiyu poked at the firewood with a prong. “What about Marshall?” she asked. “Any updates on his discovery of the Phoenix site with Nadia?”
“Yes,” Nageau said, “and it is good news. Well, relatively speaking. Tikina?”
“Marshall has acquired what is called a ‘queen,’” Tikina said. “It seems to be a genetically modified creature of some sort.”
Tayoka shuddered. “Disgusting.”
“You do not know what it looks like.”
“No, but I cannot imagine anything bred by Reyor’s people would look beautiful.”
“He has a point,” Saiyu offered with faint amusement.
“In any case,” Tikina continued, “we are, for the first time, ahead of the harbinger. We do not know how long that will last, though.”
Taking turns, she and Nageau conveyed what Marshall had learned. The rest of the Elders were both intrigued and horrified.
“This is dangerous,” Saiyu whispered. “It has severe implications and is too important to be kept within the Council.”
“If you are suggesting that we inform the authorities of the outside world,” Nageau said, “then I must, unfortunately, disagree. We did not reach out to them before for one reason. Should the path lead them to Reyor, they will not be equipped to handle the lathe’ad’s symbiotic attachment to the harbinger. Any threat to this relationship would unleash incredible devastation, the likes of which history has never seen.”
“That monster is clearly no longer interested in stealth,” Tayoka countered. “People will eventually suspect someone is behind the misfortunes plaguing the world, even if they cannot discern who just yet. Once the scent is caught, humanity will hunt for the source. For the harbinger to act in such a revealing way . . . it can only mean the final stage of the Arcane Ventures is near. The end is near.”
Nageau clasped his hands against his mouth, frowning into the flames as he mulled over Tayoka’s words. He is not wrong . . . and as Tikina said, we are at long last ahead of Reyor.
“There is also the glaring matter of the beasts hunkered along coasts all over the planet, ready to be let loose at any moment,” Ashack muttered. “If we do not wish to let the outside world know who the harbinger is, we should at least warn them of the imminent danger on their horizon.”
“If Ashack is willing to engage further with the outside world, I think we ought to consider it,” Tayoka said. Nageau couldn’t tell if the man was poking grim fun at the surly Elder, or if he was completely serious. Either way, he’d made another good observation.
“Thoughts?” Nageau asked, eyes trailing to the other Elders.
Tikina and Saiyu exchanged looks, a nervous light in their eyes and uncertainty twisting their lips. Then they nodded once at each other, sharply. “I agree with Ashack,” Tikina said.
Saiyu dipped her head. “As do I. But we must wonder, why would the outside world believe us?”
“We have to tell them that the message comes from the same people who helped deliver the cure,” Tayoka said. “If we give them specifics about the message that was sent with the sap, detailing our recommendation for distribution, they will know.”
“The authorities could not do anything about the crop destruction and the virus,” Tikina murmured. “But for this, they can prepare themselves, even a little.”
Nageau dragged in a long breath and rolled his shoulders back. “Then let us inform the League, so that they may let the world know of the monstrosity waiting to be unleashed.”
* * *
As the sun hung low in the sky over the snow-covered plains outside Dema-Ki, illuminating the ground in a dazzling glow, Saiyu raced beside a frozen river, her brown hair whipping back. She leaned forward, digging the heels of her moccasin boots into her steed’s sides. The young chestnut mare responded at once, as though eager to give her legs a proper stretch after being confined in her stall.
“Good girl!” Saiyu exclaimed. She half closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of near flight. A small grou
p of deer inspecting the slippery surface of the frozen river on cautious hooves watched curiously as Elder and horse galloped past.
Deep in the joy of the ride, Saiyu didn’t realize how quickly they had arrived at their destination until it appeared before them. She pulled on the reins, slowing the horse’s pace to a trot, then to a walk, before halting completely and looking behind her.
Ashack was a few hundred feet away. She couldn’t take her eyes off him; they had been together for nearly forty years but even now her heart fluttered seeing his handsome, though serious, face. His gruffness in the valley always softened a little whenever he was outside, whether it be riding, hunting, or simply taking a reflective stroll through the forest. His short curls swept with the wind until they fell back into place as he brought his mount to a halt beside her.
They secured their steeds to a tree. Saiyu readjusted her royal purple headband and matching winter garments, tucking into her coat a few persistent strands of hair that curled oddly. When she was done, she found Ashack gazing at her. She lifted her eyebrows in question. He just shook his head and planted a kiss on her temple; then, arm in arm, they crossed the remaining distance to their destination.
Saiyu squeezed him. “Why did you want us to come here today?”
“No reason,” he said. “It has just been a while since we—I—last visited.”
She looked at him for a moment longer but decided not to press further.
They stepped onto a trodden path where some dirt peeked through the snow. On either side, stretching a hundred paces either way, rows upon rows of glistening green flowers came up to the ankle. A narrow creek cut through it, somehow yet to freeze over.
“The Emerald Field.” Dull grief clogged Saiyu’s throat, the kind of sorrow that came long after an initial heartache had scabbed over.
Ashack stared out at the field, jaw working, and he blinked more than usual. She touched her lips to his bare shoulder, his skin warm against her cold nose.