by Dianna Gunn
Lai swallowed hard. She wanted so badly to tell him everything, to let him know his daughter wasn’t a failure, to see pride in his expression one more time, get one last hug. But she wasn’t going south with them. She belonged in Taurim now, with Tara. “When you see him, tell him I love him.”
“I can’t,” Ellanora said. “We are waiting here for me to die.”
Lai’s mouth dried up like it was full of ashes. “Can’t they heal you?”
“I have not even let them try,” Ellanora said. “If I must die I will do it here, and be buried with the priestesses of old.”
Lai tightened her grip on Ellanora’s hand. “I’ll stay—” she took a shaky breath of her own, “until then.”
Ellanora smiled weakly. “I know.”
Lai spent the next few nights in Ellanora’s room. Servants brought her a mattress to sleep on, but she spent most of her time in the chair beside Ellanora’s bed, watching over her grandmother. Praying she would at least be awake to say good bye at the final moment.
The priestesses took turns watching the town’s edge for the merchant. Veronica had warned the people the night Lai arrived. Most thought it was simply a mad story, but those who believed her patrolled the town day and night.
Five days after Lai arrived Miran burst through Ellanora’s door, panting.
“There are caravans on the road,” she said between heavy breaths. “Veronica’s already on her way to meet them.”
Lai grabbed her niro and followed Miran outside. They ran to the northern edge of town where a crowd had gathered to watch four black caravans rolling down the ancient, broken road to Alanum.
Miran pushed her way through to the front, dragging Lai with her. They stopped beside Veronica, who stood at the head of the crowd, one hand on the pommel of her sword.
The first caravan came to a halt thirty feet away and a large man stepped out of it. He looks exactly like the merchant from my vision. So it had been true, all this time. Or it would have been true, if she hadn’t come to prevent it.
A second man stepped out of the caravan, this one dressed in fine fabrics and wearing so many rings his hand appeared to be entirely covered in gold. He turned to face the crowd and Lai took a sharp breath. Calvin. How did he find this place? She had always been so careful to speak of Valasharn in only the vaguest terms.
Calvin and his burly friend strode towards Veronica. Calvin’s eyes darted around the crowd, as if he was already frightened. His gaze settled on Lai and he stopped abruptly, his face turning beet red.
Lai glared at him, hands clutching the handles of her niro. She wanted nothing more than to jump across the space between them and sink her knives into his treacherous chest.
The larger merchant stopped several feet away from Veronica, one hand hovering over the hilt of his sword.
“What brings you here?” Veronica asked.
“We’ve come to trade,” the larger merchant said. “I am Edward of Alanum, and my comrade is Calvin, also of Alanum.”
“And what have you brought to trade?”
“Herbs and spices,” Calvin said, the words falling out of his mouth in an awful rush. “Many unique northern flavors.”
“You don’t sell spices,” Lai said, her voice much louder than intended. “You sell furs. What do you really want?”
Calvin’s face turned red. “I do not sell furs!”
Veronica smiled tightly. “We’ll have to search your caravans anyway. This is holy ground.”
“I suppose we can do this the hard way,” Edward said.
The burly merchant whistled and drew his sword. Heavily armored men poured out of every caravan, their blades glimmering in the sun, more than she would have believed fit inside those caravans.
“Kill the adults, capture the children,” Edward yelled, swinging his sword at Veronica’s face.
Veronica blocked the burly man’s blow easily and all around them her people broke into action, screaming battle cries and raising their weapons.
Lai ignored the crowd and ran towards Calvin, tackling him to the ground. She drove her fist into his nose, grinning as it crunched under her hand. She had never hated someone so much as she hated him right now. Lai punched him again, this time feeling his cheek almost cave under her fist. Blood from his nose spurted onto her face but she kept grinning, hitting him over and over again.
Something sharp pierced her calf and she screamed, rolling away. She lifted her leg off the ground and stared at the knife. He had pushed it in almost to the hilt. She cursed and yanked her niro from their sheaths.
A scream caught her attention and she turned to see the merchant named Edward fall, his throat pouring blood. Veronica stood over him, her face a mask of rage. Lai shivered. She had never seen the woman so angry in all the years she lived in the temple—and Veronica had a short temper.
Someone grabbed her hair and Lai turned, plunging her niro into Calvin’s knees. He collapsed with a terrible sound somewhere between a groan and a scream. Lai crawled towards him, close enough to see his bloody face. She had completely flattened his nose.
She slowly removed her knives from Calvin’s legs, watching his face contort with pain. Blood came rushing out of the wounds and soaked her hands, but she didn’t care. If anything, it felt satisfying, the way her first kill was supposed to. He deserved death, not like the man she killed during her first trial all those years ago.
“You should never have come here,” she said. She drove her blade into Calvin’s neck, closing her eyes and letting his blood soak her face, her hair, her neck. She had grown accustomed to killing when she traveled with Calvin, but this was the first time she had enjoyed it.
Lai wiped her niro on the last clean patch of Calvin’s tunic and sat staring at his body, barely aware of the battle still raging on around her. Screams filtered through her ears as if they came from far away.
Eventually it grew quiet but Lai didn’t look up, still staring at the bodies of Calvin and his guards. All her training said she should feel guilty about having to take their lives but she felt triumphant, ecstatic.
Someone rested a hand on her shoulder and Lai rolled away, raising her knives. Pain shot through her calf and she collapsed, staring up at Miran.
Miran raised her hands above her head, palms open. They were soaked in blood but her sword was already back in its sheath. “It’s over, Lai. We won.”
It’s over. Her people won, all thanks to her. She touched her mother’s pendant and smiled. I’ve finally found my path, mother. A deep peace, deeper than any she had ever felt, filled her heart, making all her pain seem insignificant.
“You need a healer,” Miran said, holding out a hand.
Lai took the outstretched hand and let Miran help her back to the temple.
She woke up lying on her mattress beside Ellanora’s bed. Her leg throbbed and her throat was drier than the desert. She lifted herself up using Ellanora’s bedframe.
“You saved us,” Ellanora said, her voice full of pride. “They will sing your praises at home for decades to come.” She coughed violently into her pillow, and when she leaned back Lai saw blood.
“I can’t save you,” Lai said, taking one of Ellanora’s tiny, wrinkled hands. Her chest felt like it was on fire, aching with a sorrow she hadn’t felt since her mother died.
“Everyone has their time,” Ellanora said. “This is mine.”
The door opened and Miran entered the room carrying a tray of water and soup. She offered the tray to Lai, carefully balanced on one hand. Outside the battlefield Miran would always be much more graceful than she was.
“Only one death on our side,” Miran said. “And their supplies will help us greatly.”
Lai gulped down half her glass of water before responding. “I hope their disappearance will discourage other northerners.”
“Next year we will be ready,” Miran
said.
Lai stared at her soup. The idea of more northerners desecrating this holy ground made her sick. She turned back to Ellanora and dropped the bowl, scorching her freshly healed leg.
Ellanora wasn’t breathing.
She grabbed her grandmother’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. The old woman had gone so peacefully Lai hadn’t even noticed.
A sob tore itself from her throat and she crumpled in a heap on the ground. Her chest constricted, making it difficult to breath, but she couldn’t stop sobbing. Miran held her until the sobs died down, whispering stories of the beautiful gardens good souls went to when they died, their life among the gods themselves. The stories should have comforted her but they didn’t. She only stopped crying when she ran out of tears, her eyes so dry it hurt.
Miran gave her one final hug and went to get help with the body. She returned moments later with Veronica and three servants. They lifted Ellanora’s mattress with her, carrying it carefully through the chamber’s narrow doorway.
Lai followed them down to the basement where the high priestesses of the old city lay buried. A dozen stone coffins still lay open on the second level of the basement. They lowered Ellanora’s body into the first. Veronica leaned forward and closed the old woman’s eyes, whispering a final prayer for her soul.
Miran and Lai stayed with Ellanora’s body while the townspeople passed through, each person saying their own goodbye, because Ellanora had touched all of their lives. Lai reluctantly accepted the constant stream of hugs and condolences. She didn’t want to speak to anyone but Miran, but she couldn’t be rude to them. They had as much right to mourn their priestess as she did to mourn her grandmother.
At long last darkness fell and the last mourners left. Veronica and Miran closed the coffin, sealing it with a spell sigil. Lai watched, all her sorrow exhausted and replaced by numbness, a numbness almost worse than the pain itself.
She stood up, holding Miran for support. They had healed her leg, but all the same she wasn’t sure it would work.
“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” Miran asked.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, but I have to.” She had a life to get on with.
Chapter Nineteen
“Proud daughter of Taelanna, I name you Laira from Lai,” Miran said. She held up a silver chain with a tear shaped ruby pendant.
“And I accept both the joys and the burdens of adulthood.” Laira leaned forward, heart racing as Miran settled the chain around her neck. She hadn’t even daydreamed about this moment since she ran away.
The necklace’s clasp clicked shut and Miran moved her hands away, letting the pendant fall. It rested directly above her mother’s pendant.
Laira straightened up and smiled, first at Miran then at the crowd. Everyone had come to see the ceremony, the last celebration before they headed south again and she returned to Taurim.
Miran handed her a heavy satchel. “This will see you home,” she said.
“Thank you,” Laira said, throwing the bag over her shoulder.
“I wish you’d come back with us,” Miran said.
“The mountain is my home now.” Lai smiled. “Tell Pa I’m happy now, and I love him.”
“I think he already knows.”
“I hope so.” She wouldn’t ride south again. “Good bye, Miran.”
“Good bye,” she said, her eyes shining with tears. “I’ll miss you.”
Lai smiled. “I’ll miss you too.”
That night Lai dreamed of the clearing where she first met the goddesses. They were waiting for her, dressed in the finest red and green gowns she had ever seen.
“You have done your duty well Laira,” Taelanna said. “You will be the bravest Keeper of the Dawn the world has ever seen.”
Before she could respond, a bright light filled the air and the clearing disappeared.
Laira woke up feeling like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, a weight she had carried since the day she failed her second trial. The bravest Keeper of the Dawn the world has ever seen. She liked the sound of it.
A mixture of elated anticipation and pure dread made her hands shake as she directed her mare onto the mountain path. What if the letter wasn’t enough? What if Tara hates me now? These thoughts had bounced around her head at least a thousand times over the last few days.
She reached Taurim shortly after midday. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare as she passed, as if she was a total outsider all over again. She tried to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn’t help looking at the people she rode past. Most didn’t look happy to see her. Maybe they hoped I was gone for good. She pushed the thought away. This was her home now. Taelanna herself wants me here.
Lai found Tara in their room, deeply engrossed in a massive book. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.
Lai cleared her throat and stepped into the room properly, letting the door fall shut behind her.
Tara dropped her book and crossed the distance between them in two impossibly large strides. She wrapped her arms around Lai and squeezed, clinging to her so tightly Lai could hardly breathe.
Lai smiled and put her arms around Tara’s waist, enjoying the familiar warmth. I’m finally home.
Tara pulled away and gazed into her eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid for me, you know,” she said. “You could have told me before you left.”
All the happiness leaked out of her heart. She wanted to look away, but she forced herself to hold Tara’s gaze, to show Tara how deep her love was.
“No, I couldn’t,” she said. “Leaving hurt enough, without having to see you cry.”
“Everyone said you left me,” Tara said. “That you weren’t coming back.” Her eyes were brimming with tears, though Lai couldn’t tell if they were from sorrow or joy.
“Amber can send me anywhere she likes,” Lai said, gently brushing tears away from Tara’s cheeks. “I will always come back for you.”
“I know.” Tara leaned her head on Lai’s shoulder. “I always knew.”
“Thank you.”
Tara glanced up at her. “For what?”
“Believing in me,” Lai said. She kissed Tara’s forehead. “Now, I’ve been on the road a long time and I need a bath.”
Tara grinned. “That sounds incredible.”
Lai led Tara into the bathing chamber and turned the faucet as far as it would go. A large stream of hot water poured out, filling the tub with a thunderous sound.
“Time to wash away my past,” Lai said quietly. “And begin a new life.”
Acknowledgements
Keeper of the Dawn is a story that’s taken many forms, and there are at least as many people who deserve thanks for their contribution. My many critique partners, who have been so numerous that I cannot remember all of their names. Editor Karen Dales, whose advice finally convinced me to turn this story into a book. Ana and Thea, the lovely ladies who run The Book Smugglers and who are almost as dedicated to this book as I am.
There are also the people who helped me become the person I needed to be to write this book. My family, especially my grandmother Victoria, who took me in when I couldn’t remain at home. My best friend Samantha, who has been an irreplaceable part of my life for almost a decade, and the rest of our chosen family.
Last but certainly not least, I want to thank my fiancé Ryan, who is endlessly patient with my insanity… I mean creativity, of course. Without the joy he brings into my life, I never would have been able to imagine a romance as sweet as Lai’s.
Inspirations and Influences
Roughly ten years ago, I decided to write a parody novel. I wanted to stretch my skills as a writer, and frankly, I wanted to write something less depressing than my typical work (spoiler alert: I only accomplished one of these things). I also adored a long list of parodies, including Terry Pratchett’s Discwo
rld and Piers Anthony’s Xanth novels.
I spent several weeks building a world and the perfect ragtag team of fantasy adventurers, but one of these characters quickly became more real to me than the others. Her name was Lai.
Within a few months I knew two things. First, I was never going to write that parody novel. I simply didn’t have it in me. But the second, arguably more important realization, was that Lai had a powerful story all her own, one very different from the romping comedy I originally imagined.
I abandoned the parody project entirely and dove into this character. She became so strong in my head that I built a new world around her, new mythology, new cultures, new characters.
The story I eventually wrote had nothing to do with my original idea except for a shared character, and little more in common with the book you see today. With every edit Lai's story expanded, growing from a short story into a novella.
The interesting thing about this process is how it mirrors Lai’s story within the book. In order to understand her story, I had to redefine my entire project. Her entire journey is about redefining herself and her life plan.
In many ways Lai’s story also mirrors the story of my own career. I've dreamed about being an author since the age of eight, and as a child I stubbornly believed I would have my first novel published before my eighteenth birthday.
Well, my eighteenth birthday came and went some years ago, and only now is my first book coming out. But I have already been a working writer for six years, writing marketing materials for many different companies and non-profits. More importantly, my dream still came true—just a few years later than planned.
If there is any message I want you to take from Keeper of the Dawn, it is that there are many different paths to becoming the person you've always wanted to be.
About the Author
Dianna L. Gunn has known she wanted to be a writer since she was eight years old. She wrote her first novel for Nanowrimo at the age of eleven, but quickly discovered that writing books is not an easy way to make a living. So, she sought out another career that allowed her to work with words and eventually became a freelance writer. She adores freelance writing and is extremely passionate about helping her clients’ dreams come true.