Dawn of the Flame Sea

by Jean Johnson

  The final figure, the centerpiece next to Ban, was a tall, stately woman who when she moved flowed like a gentle breeze and when she stood still resembled a sculpture. Her robes were a variation on the man to Halek’s left, save that hers were layered like the petals of a flower, all in shades of cream and gold and subtle variations between. In fact, they all—Ban excepted—were nothing more and nothing less than gilded, sun-colored statues. Even their eyes were some shade of yellow or beige, camel or dun, the taje realized with a shiver.

  Of all of these strangers, it was ironic that the one who had introduced himself as Death looked the most familiar and the most normal. He had brown eyes, not some unnatural shade of yellow. Colorfully, subtly painted skin, but deeply tanned skin all the same, not golden. Black, normal hair, not sun-and-sand hued . . . and the moment he thought that, Taje Halek wondered with rising awe and a touch of fear if these . . . people . . . had come from the desert sands themselves, shaped by the anima as the adults in his tribe could shape little figurines in crushed, moistened quartz.

  The woman Siffu, a former slave they had accepted into the tribe, claimed that happened in the lands south of the southern mountains, living beings made from the anima itself. He didn’t quite believe in such things. Fajenz was a crude art compared to a living being, and the anima was not a thinking thing . . . but there was something sculpted about these people. Something alien and eerie.

  It took a whisper from animadj Zudu to pinpoint what it was, beyond their unnatural coloring and unusual eyes. “Their ears,” she muttered, her words seeming loud in the silence between the two groups. “Their ears have points, like animals!”

  “Their eyes are like sand and sun!” someone else exclaimed softly.

  “Siffu, are these your anima-beings?” a third asked; if the mother of three replied, Halek didn’t hear it.

  “They move like they have no bones,” a fourth offered, fear in her voice. “Unnatural!”

  Halek didn’t think they were boneless; he could see their limbs were shaped like, well, arms and legs, and not the ripplings of some sinuous snake. But he was unnerved by their suppleness, their stillness, and their strangeness. And then the woman in the center spoke, in a voice that conveyed all the warmth and patience of the dawn, which sent a chill down the Taje’s aching back. Not one of fear, but a shiver of awe.

  No one should have a voice that beautiful. Not without being made of . . . of anima itself—it was that magical to listen to. He did not believe in such things, though. He did not.

  Chapter Four

  “We are the Fae Rii,” the central, golden woman stated, her voice as rich as warm running water, a soft alto that felt like a finely woven shawl being wrapped around her listeners. Halek had not asked a question, nor had the others, yet the tall woman with the very long hair answered them as if they had. “Our ears, our eyes, our hair . . . These are simply how our people look, where we come from.”

  “That one does not look like you,” Eruk, one of the spear wielders on the right-hand end of the tribe’s curve, stated. He pointed at Ban, his voice rough by comparison. “He has eyes and ears like ours, hair like ours, though I can see someone spent too much time painting his hide.”

  “Eruk, you do not speak for this tribe,” Halek asserted, drawing himself up as tall as he could, given he was leaning on a crutch for the support to stand for any length of time. The warrior subsided, but not without a dark look. “I speak for the White Sands Tribe. I am Taje Halek. Which among you speaks for your . . . Fae Rii?”

  “I do,” the woman in the center stated.

  “Taje Halek,” Ban stated, gesturing at the white-vested man across from them, then gestured to his tall, slender companion. “This is Taje Djin-taje-ul, leader of the pantean.”

  Halek had no idea what a pantejan was, other than perhaps their word for tribe, but he was determined to be polite. And anyone with a name that translated as mother couldn’t be too awful . . . could they? “I greet you, Taje Djin. Where are the others of your tribe?”

  “I am Djin-taje,” the woman corrected gently. “Not Djin, but Djin-taje. Please give me the courtesy of using my proper name . . . though you may dispense with formal titles.” She gestured to her right. “As for any others, at this time, there are none. We do not yet need them, though one day we will summon, and more will come. To settle,” added the woman who insisted her title was a backward part of her name. “Not to conquer. That is not the way of the Fae Rii.”

  “If you are here to conquer,” Ban spoke up, his deep voice echoing slightly off the canyon walls, though he didn’t shout in any way, “I suggest you change your minds. A single Fae is worth one hundred of you in battle . . . and I alone am more powerful than one hundred Fae.”

  Djin-taje rested her hand on the painted man’s shoulder. “Ban is Shae, like yourselves in that he is not Fae, but he comes from farther away than we Fae do. He is my protector, and he does not boast of his skill. Please do not test it in seriousness. He does not have much of good humor in him, so do not test it in jest, either.” Gesturing to the woman on her left, she continued smoothly. “Parren is a Fae Gh’vin, a warrior of our people. She specializes in the movement of water. Beside her is her mate, Kaife, also a Guardian of our people. It is he whose skill with stone shapes and reshapes our stronghold, including the new stone that you see. Beyond them is Rua, who manages our crops and our animals.”

  Again the lady with the hoe gave a little bow. Halek realized belatedly the hoe was wrapped in a crisscross of golden metal bands that ended in the golden metal of the blade; the creamy gold wood picked for the shaft blended readily, making such details hard to discern. But she seemed more friendly and approachable than the others.

  Djin-taje continued. “Beyond Ban are Adan, another Guardian who manages our needs for things hot and cold, from fire to ice. His is Fali, a Guardian who studies the ways of wind and air. And our last but not least member of the pantean is Éfan, whom you would call our animadj, though all of us can manipulate your anima-energies.”

  All four clad in scales continued to stand like statues, though Halek could tell they breathed and blinked. The man with the crystal in his palm and the long, sheer overrobe eyed his orb, then eyed them and dipped his head slightly, remaining aloof. They all studied the White Sands Tribe, some with curiosity, some with neutrality, and Ban with suspicion, but Halek expected that. He debated how much of his tribe to introduce and decided a short round would be appropriate.

  “Our animadj is Zudu, and her acolytes are Zitta, Keppa, and Zuki. Our hunt leader is Puna, whom your Ban has met. The rest . . . you may meet if you remain friendly,” he added daringly. “If not, you will have to remain ignorant.”

  The woman, Djin-taje, smiled politely. “We would prefer to remain friendly. It is the Fae Rii way to seek polite interactions with others. We are here to learn of this land, to explore it, and to seek what trade might be beneficial to all sides . . . but we were here first. These canyons in the immediate area, and as far as you can walk for the distance the sun travels in the width of two fists stacked one atop the other, is all Fae Rii territory. There is water here, as you have seen, but beyond two fists’ worth of time, for over a day, there is very little water at this time of year. What water there is here must either be guarded carefully against waste or summoned via the anima until such time as the winter rains come.

  “You have many people, and some animals. All of you are thirsty, and the water on the ground is not enough to nurture you all,” Djin-taje added. “Do you have the ability to summon great amounts of water?”

  “We would, if you had not stolen all the anima,” Zudu stated bluntly. “The wisps fly from our grasp and go straight to your caves. I would demand what you have done with all of it, but the very stones have changed—something even I would struggle to manage. It is obvious you have been using it.”

  “Do you seek to deprive us of the water we need?” Tha
t came from Siffu, one of the mothers to Halek’s left. Siffu, whose dark blond hair was the closest anyone came in the White Sands Tribe to the coloring of these strangers. She had come from a land far to the south, from beyond the mountains, a war slave raided and traded repeatedly since she was a child.

  Djin-taje smiled gently. “No, youngling. If the decision we make is to have your people leave, we will ensure you have as much clean water as you can carry, but I should like to think we can get along. There is room in these canyons for many of us, after all.”

  “Room, yes, but what about food?” Puna asked, speaking up for the tribe’s hunting-and-gathering needs. “This soil is rocky and sandy, not good for growing. There is grass, but we cannot live entirely on meat . . . and we do not have many herd animals left. The Spider Hand Tribe stole most of our goats and donkeys when they stole our lands, expanding to take our water sources to feed their growing numbers.”

  “Have you eyes?” the Fae Rii named Rua asked. “Have you hands? The ways of plants and animals can be studied to learn what they need. When you have seen what they need, you simply work with your hands to give them that.”

  “Spices and herbs can be grown in the desert, with care and tending,” Djin-taje added. “Sweet-smelling resins. These things are often considered valuable to others who live far away, and they will be willing to trade large amounts of food in exchange for smaller amounts of seasonings to flavor their meals and resins that will perfume their fires—that is why we are here, to see what is valuable to trade.”

  “We made beads, until the Spider Hands tried to steal the secret of that from us, too, along with our food and our land and our herds,” Halek stated flatly. It hurt to put it that way, in the past, but the rocks and sand around here were not the right kind for making the trade of his tribe. “We did not grow spices and herbs . . . though I suppose we could learn. But it is food and water we need right now.”

  Eruk broke his position at those words. Striding swiftly behind the others, he reached Halek in moments and grabbed his leader’s arm, whispering in his ear. “You make us sound weak! They are only eight, and we are two hundred! We do not beg for food and water—”

  Halek gripped the younger man’s fingers with his free hand, replying just as intently, if quietly. “Your eyes are weak, Eruk. Weaker than mine, for I at least can see these people have the leisure to weave the finest cloth and craft garments like metal lizard skin. Leisure comes only with prosperity. We used to have it. Now we do not. They have it. We need it. There is no shame in admitting our needs. There is shame, however, in letting the heat of the sun rule your head, as it so often does Lutun’s.”

  The warrior flushed. Being compared to that hotheaded youth was no compliment. “I think of our people. If we seem weak, they may think we are conquerable. Or do you wish to end up their slaves, as we almost did to the Circle Fire Tribe? How do you know they are not planning just that? How do you know they don’t have five hundred lurking in the shadows, waiting to seize us?”

  “Our hearing is quite good,” the center woman stated, startling both men. “We do not ever trade in slaves. It is forbidden, against the law of our kind. Each sentient being is precious and entitled to basic rights, which all such thinking beings share.” She paced forward with smooth grace, like a fog pouring down a valley. The dark-haired one, Ban, moved like a shadow at her side while the others stayed back. “It is true that, should you decide to stay here, you must agree that I will be the ultimate authority in this place. You, Taje Halek, will still lead your people personally, but final decisions will be brought to me when it is something that will affect this place, my people, or involve contact with others.

  “The pantean is Fae Rii territory. Everything within two fists’ travel is ours to rule and to decide. We do not allow outsiders to rampage through our territory. But those who agree to abide by our rules may live next to us, and they—your people—shall know prosperity and leisure in time.” She smiled slightly, her sun gold eyes all but glowing with wry mirth. “Of course, it is a new pantean, so there must be hard work to establish it firmly first.

  “But here, I give you a gift so that you know the value of what the pantean of Fae Rii could bring to your people,” she added, and lifted her hand toward Halek’s face.

  Eruk tensed, gripping his spear with both hands. Ban locked gazes with him, backing him off with a simple narrowing of his eyes. Distracted by the exchange, Halek was startled when those golden peach fingertips brushed his cheek . . . and brought a billowing gust of relief through his body, chasing away the pain. He gasped, back arching, and collapsed.

  Faster than a blink, Ban caught him, scooping Halek off his feet with no grunt from the effort while his crutch clattered onto the ground. Those golden fingers came back and touched him again. Eruk lifted his spear menacingly. The taje managed to get his hand up, pushing it aside. “No—no! She gives me . . . relief from the pain . . . Ah!”

  His body jerked as his thighbone snapped back into its socket. The milky film cleared from his injured eye, making him blink and weep tears of pus as it was ejected from the wounds.

  “I don’t care! Stop hurting him!” Eruk demanded.

  Djin-taje lifted her other hand, fingertips brushing the warrior’s knuckles. Eruk’s jaw dropped, the spear fell from his grip, and he sagged, first to his knees on the sandy, gritty ground, then to his hip, his shoulder, his face. She held up her hand, warding off the others who reached for their weapons. “He is merely asleep and will waken feeling very refreshed in a finger’s width of your sun’s traveling time, what we Fae call a quarter hour, for our hands have four fingers, and the width of our fist is considered to be one hour.”

  “It is not wise to threaten Djin-taje,” Ban added while her right hand continued to make Halek’s body twitch. Bones realigned themselves and wounds continued to heal. “She is a healer, not a fighter, but she is well guarded by those who can and will kill.”

  “Ban,” the golden woman chided softly. He fell silent.

  Zudu, watching them, lifted her hands and frowned thoughtfully, concentrating. Anima gathered between her cupped fingers, forming a wisp of her life force, her will; the moment it coalesced fully, it zipped free of her fingers and sped straight into the Fae woman. Djin-taje sucked in a breath when it hit, and smiled. Halek felt a stronger pulse of those soothing-mist energies filling him a moment later. He struggled to sit up in the man’s arms as the last of his pains faded, but it was only when Djin-taje removed her fingers that Ban set Taje Halek on his feet.

  As he did so, Halek realized the man wasn’t even sweating, never mind trembling, despite having held another fully grown man aloft for several minutes. Steadying himself while the tall, dark man stepped back, he looked around at his wide-eyed, worried tribe. Then looked down at his body. Two straight legs, skin that was whole and unscarred. Two eyes that could see well . . . and better than well, for his vision had started to suffer the plagues that came with advancing age. His eyes saw with the clarity of youth, now.

  Hesitantly, he took a step, then another, and another, until he found himself running. Not far, just along the arm of the tribe only to circle back around again. His wasn’t the only face grinning, he saw, and he came to a stop in front of the golden-eyed, golden-haired, golden-clad woman. Hope lay in the eyes of the other injured members of his tribe, hope for cures their own animadj had not been able to achieve.

  “Can you do this for everyone? At any time?” he asked, elated at being pain free and fully mobile.

  “If all of you were injured all at once, it would be difficult. But your anima strengthens the ways of my kind to an astounding degree, so it would not be impossible,” Djin-taje allowed.

  “And food and water?” he pressed. “Would you give us that?”

  “It would need to be supplemented for a long while with hunted meat, but water, we can give in some abundance right now,” she allowed, glancing at the six w
ho had remained by the ravine entrance. One of the three on the right nodded her metal-covered head. Djin-taje looked back at him. “In exchange, we have certain rules of behavior and customs. Habits of cleanliness, how to dispose of waste, properly handle food, who is allowed to go where—our stronghold is our private space, meant for the Fae and Ban alone—and we have certain customs of how we interact with each other.

  “Some of these customs are restrictive, but many are more open-minded and welcoming than others,” she added. “In some lands, we have found that the males and the females are separated by what they can do. Among the Fae, it is the opposite; each side is encouraged to try whatever task or skill they might wish to learn, from raising children to hunting beasts, cooking food or crafting items. It is only the mere physical differences that separate us. Men find it very difficult to breast-feed, for instance, though they are still welcome to try,” she added with a smile that invited him to share in the jest.

  Halek did chuckle a little at that, though even he had heard of legend-stories of fathers with young who had been desperate enough to try. Still, her offer seemed generous, but fraught with unknowns. “If there is a custom of yours my people do not like, is there room for discussion, and perhaps a change?”

  “Our way is the way of discussion and reason,” Djin-taje told him. “Our ways are often ones that have been tested by time, almost all of them backed by good reasons and thus rarely ever changed. Sometimes . . . sometimes, some of those reasons do not suit a new location, and we are known to bend and reshape ourselves, growing in a new direction. Growth with a purpose is usually good, so we are willing to discuss each time.”