by D N Meinster
He reciprocated the hug, and then, taking her by surprise, kissed her straight on the lips.
She returned the kiss and then some, and by the time they broke apart, he was blushing bright red.
The advantages of her tanner skin: she never blushed. Not that she thought she would, even if she could.
Loraya took hold of both of Aros’ hands, and he squeezed them in return.
“I guess you missed me,” she said with a wink.
Aros let out a nervous titter. “I kept my promise.”
“I can see,” she replied, a ridiculous smile spreading across her face.
Their eyes met, and each of them held their gaze, the affection evident and the amount they missed each other even more so.
Loraya tightened her grip on his hands, afraid that he might slip out of her grasp. She didn’t want him to leave again. His presence washed away any of the heartache and depression she felt over losing her family. She needed a break from those emotions. They consumed her when Aros wasn’t around.
He stayed put, not letting go; not looking away. It was obvious he had missed her as much as she’d missed him.
While Loraya started pulling him closer again, they were interrupted.
“Well, well, well.” M’dalla’s beige tunic was soaked and clung tightly to her figure as she circled her friend. “I assumed you had something to do with that light. I just didn’t expect to see you here so quickly.” She glared at Loraya. “Then again, maybe I should have.”
Aros finally pulled his hands away from Loraya. As he moved toward M’dalla, she held up a finger.
“Don’t.”
Aros absentmindedly grabbed the back of his neck.
Loraya slid her arm onto Aros’ back, realizing that she had many questions and plenty of news to share.
It was M’dalla that got to ask first, though.
“Why are you here?”
Aros’ shoulders fell, and he shot a dejected glance at Loraya before revealing the answer. “Neanthal. He was freed.”
M’dalla’s eyes widened. “Shit.” She turned towards the river. “Azzer! Azzer!”
A spout of water shot out from the river and deposited the mage with blue hair, blue lips, and blue eyes next to his companion.
“Aros Asilias!” he exclaimed. “Where are your friends?”
Aros went on to explain what had transpired in Kytheras and the origin of the blinding light.
“Neanthal wanted Ghumai to stay divided because he knows,” Aros said. “Only if all five kingdoms work together do we stand a chance against him.”
“Amelia sent us here to collect Keys, not to take on the Corruption,” Azzer noted, shaking his head.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” M’dalla said.
“Naturally,” Azzer replied. “We will not stand by and watch Ghumai fall again. With Hatswick gone, we’re the only ones left with memories of the last time he conquered the world.”
“What do you need us to do?” M’dalla asked.
Before Aros could reply, Loraya spoke up. “You can’t go.”
Three pairs of puzzled eyes locked onto her.
Loraya tried to conceive of words that would make Aros understand. “We are at war. Terrastream itself is divided. We cannot stand against Neanthal when we are busy fighting each other.”
“We can’t end this war in a day,” M’dalla told her.
“Then we can’t help.”
Aros’ bewildered expression tugged at Loraya’s heart. Did he not comprehend what she was saying? Terrastream could not aid him, because while the civil war went on, there was no Terrastream. There were only monarchists and traditionalists.
“Our war is irrelevant if Neanthal rules,” Azzer stated. “You don’t know what it was like.”
“I’ve heard the stories,” Loraya replied. “I want to help. But if all our fighters take on Neanthal while the monarchists stay hidden in Valiant Keep, they win. We’ll all die.”
“She has a point,” M’dalla responded. “There are only a couple hundred here that might follow us into battle against Neanthal. The rest will never join us.”
“I can ask them,” Aros suggested.
“The monarchists?” Loraya replied, exasperated by his thought. “They refuse to believe Kahar is dead. You think you can convince them that Neanthal has returned.”
“I have to try,” Aros said.
“They might remember what happened the last time you were there,” M’dalla stated.
“Our war won’t end simply because it's convenient for you,” Loraya spat.
Aros was flustered by Loraya’s tone. “I…uh…”
“Azzer and I will go with you to Kytheras,” M’dalla said. “Loraya can lead the rest of her traditionalists in the war.”
Aros considered their offer for only a moment, ultimately rejecting it. “I have to go to Valiant Keep. I have to try.”
“I’ll take you,” Loraya volunteered, hoping he’d understand once they were there.
M’dalla rolled her eyes. “We just got back from there. They’ll be on high alert.”
“We can wait a day,” Loraya said. Besides, she had something she wanted to show Aros.
“A day,” Aros repeated, wondering if it was too much time to let slip away.
“If we leave in the morning, we should reach the keep by nightfall.”
“Or I could shift you both there,” Azzer said.
“I want to take the long way,” Loraya said.
M’dalla’s response was dripping with sarcasm. “Gee, I couldn’t guess why.”
Aros was going to go off to his own war against a much deadlier opponent. His life was at risk, but so was hers. She wanted them to get at least one day together.
“Since we’re not invited, where should we go?” Azzer inquired.
“Tunsev Manor,” Aros said. “That’s where I’m supposed to meet Doren and Rikki. You can go there and join them.”
Azzer hurried off to rejoin the recreation in Restoration River, while M’dalla hung back with Loraya and Aros.
Having to reject Aros’ plea for help stung at her heart, and she wished for a swift end to Terrastream’s war so she could provide the assistance he sought.
But that look in his eyes. He was so disappointed in her, and she thought about abandoning the traditionalists so she could take on Neanthal with him.
However, there was no one else to lead them with M’dalla and Azzer both leaving. She had to stay.
“Before this is over, you might have to choose,” M’dalla said. “Lose this kingdom or lose all of Ghumai.”
By dusk, Loraya had some success convincing Aros that she had no choice but to stay. They had a memorable night in each other’s arms, and Loraya feared it might be their only one.
They left the traditionalist camp at dawn. Loraya took Aros’ hand and guided him into Fusion Forest.
Aros was groggy, his eyes only slightly open, and he willingly let her lead him to a fantastic maroon tree. It was wider than Yayne had been, and taller than one of Valiant Keep’s turrets. Its leaves were shades of deep blue and green, which calmly fluttered in the gentle breeze.
When they got to the side Loraya wanted to show him, he beheld the names of all of her deceased family members carved into the tree.
“I don’t have anyone left to carve my name,” she said, “except you.” Her eyes moistened but no tears fell. “If I don’t make it through my war, you have to come back here and add my name.”
“I will,” Aros promised.
“And if you don’t make it through yours, I’ll add your name.”
“But I’m not your family.”
“I love you,” she said. “That’s enough.”
Aros nodded, his cheeks blushing again.
Loraya carefully ran her hand on the bark of the tree, her fingers sliding against the engraved letters that spelled out the names of others she had loved.
“Why do you carve their names?” Aros asked.
“St
reamers never buried their dead,” Loraya replied. “We left our bodies for nature, just as the other animals left their bodies for us. This is how it had always been, until the FruitBearers journeyed to meet the BedCairns. In one of their caves, they found the names of all the deceased carved into the walls. Upon their return to the valley, the FruitBearers took up that tradition. But lacking cave walls to use, they instead used trees. No harm is done to the trees, and they can grow for hundreds of years. As these trees were spotted by other tribes over the years, the FruitBearers explained its meaning. And so it became a tradition for all the tribes of Terrastream. The trees of remembrance.”
Loraya turned back to Aros. “I did my best to remember the names from the old tree. There’s nothing left of it but cinder on the other side of the forest.”
“Is that where we’re headed?” he asked.
“There’s a faster way,” she replied.
Loraya took his hand again and tugged him back the way they’d come. They snuck past the traditionalist camp and followed Restoration River’s current.
“The river was dead until you reunited the lands,” Loraya told him.
Aros looked it at like he couldn’t quite figure out why that would be. He tried to pause and consider the possible reasons, but Loraya continued dragging him along.
They stayed along the river’s banks as they journeyed to the keep, never letting go of each other’s hand and occasionally sharing a surprise kiss. Their mood was light, even jubilant, and they’d laugh for no reason and smiles would break out on their faces. They knew they’d have to part again soon, but they refused to let that overhanging truth bring them down. Each was content to enjoy the other’s company, and they made sure to do that for as long as they could.
They took a break around noon, when the sun was high and the temperature threatened an early summer. Loraya bent over the river to take a drink but recoiled as she saw shadows moving beneath the water.
“What’s wrong?” Aros asked, dropping the pears he’d gathered as he ran to her.
Loraya pointed down.
“Looks like fish,” he said.
“Amazing.” She pushed off into the water and tried to catch one with her bare hands. “They’re too fast,” she whined as she came up for air.
“Why would you want to catch one?” Aros asked.
“This river has never had fish,” she said. “I just want to play with it.”
Aros helped her out of the river, and they noshed on pears while Loraya rested her head on Aros’ lap.
“What can you tell me about the monarchists?” he asked.
Loraya’s mood changed instantaneously. “You already know what they’re like. But they answer to a steward now instead of a king.”
“Who’s the steward?”
“Grayston Ghalor. I’ve never met him, but I hear he’s foul and stubborn.”
Aros ran a finger through Loraya’s damp hair. “So better than Kahar?”
Loraya giggled. “Only because he doesn’t have mages to enforce his will.” She tossed the remains of her pear to the fishes.
“Neanthal is worse than him.”
Loraya sat up, a slight heartache returning. “I told you why I can’t go.” He’d understood the day before. Had he forgotten already?
“I know,” Aros said. “But if we fail, he’ll come here. And if all the Streamers don’t fight together, you’ll lose.”
“Then don’t fail,” she said. There weren’t exactly any diplomatic communications with the monarchists. There’d only been battle after battle. She didn’t see how they could ever work in unison.
“It’s harder when you’re down one kingdom,” Aros replied.
While Loraya tried to think of words that would console him, her ears perked up. “Get in the water.”
“Huh?”
She pushed Aros into Restoration River, grabbed her bow, and slid in after him. “Stay low,” she whispered.
They kept their eyes above water, and only bobbed upwards when they needed air. From their position, they saw only the legs and ankles of a hunting party. But Loraya knew it wasn’t some random tribe passing by. They were monarchists, and they were heading for the traditionalist camp.
There were at least twenty of them, and as they moved further away, she was able to make out their rock and crystal armor, as well as the stores of weapons they brought with them. They were going to make a surprise attack on her people. She couldn’t let them.
Loraya loaded an arrow into her bow. Aros reached out to stop her, but she fired it before he could interfere.
The arrow soared above the river, crossed the banks, and stalked the monarchists until it landed in the back of one of their exposed necks. The monarchist dropped and the entire party came to standstill.
Loraya emptied ten more arrows from her quiver while Aros pulled himself out of the river and withdrew his blades.
Aros ran after the monarchists while Loraya followed along in the river, though she couldn’t keep up as the current was pushing against her.
Two arrows came at Aros, but he knocked them out of the way and kept on going. There were only ten left alive when he caught up to them, and though they were well-armed and ready to attack, they didn’t make a move.
“Head back to your keep and you’ll live,” he offered.
His words did not persuade them. One charged at him with a club, the others came at him with swords.
Aros spun in place and shifted ten feet away.
As they swung at air and stumbled, Loraya emerged from the river. She slammed an arrow into one of their eyes and tripped another.
Aros flung a clawblade and deflected a sword that was coming at her.
She took the time to loose an arrow into its wielder, while Aros shifted to her side.
He tried to grab his fallen clawblade, but an axe nearly struck his hand as he reached. Aros locked his other blade against the axe and pushed against it, but the hulky monarchist was an equal match.
Loraya bent backward to avoid an incoming sword. She grabbed onto the arm of its wielder and kicked out, but he wore rock armor and was unaffected.
Aros intentionally dropped his blade and jumped backward. The monarchist fell forward and Aros redirected him into the river, where the current took him away.
Loraya climbed onto the back of her attacker and successfully implanted two arrows into his neck with her hands. She hopped off him as he collapsed.
Three monarchists hurled their bundles of chains at Aros and Loraya, catching it around their arms and whirling it around them as they circled them.
Aros spun and shifted out of the trap, while Loraya grabbed the chain and yanked one of the monarchists closer. He wasn’t wearing armor, and she headbutted him before tripping him.
Aros appeared adjacent to one of the monarchists, and he grabbed hold of the loose chain and swung it around his neck. The monarchist’s face turned purple and then blue, but Aros refused to let go until he was dead.
Loraya finished off her opponent, and the two of them turned to the last monarchist. He shook the chain in his possession in a taunting manner, but then dropped it and ran back in the direction of the keep.
Aros was content to let him go, but Loraya was not. She arched an arrow into the air and watched as it planted itself in the monarchist’s back.
“We could’ve let him go,” Aros said.
“Did they show my brothers any mercy?” she fumed.
Aros squatted down to collect his clawblades, but he stayed in place as he watched the blood ooze from the bodies and spread toward the river. “Scenes like this make me worry that I’ve forgotten how to value life. I never killed before this year. I know it’s the only way sometimes, but I don’t enjoy it. When we don’t have to kill, we shouldn’t.”
“This is a war, Aros. I’m not killing because I enjoy it either. Streamers don’t harm any animals, and we don’t kill humans unless its war. It’s the one exception.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to n
ever kill at all?”
“It’s our tradition. And war is a Ghumaic tradition.”
Aros slid the clawblades onto his back and stood up.
Loraya took arrows off the fallen and added them to her quiver. She eventually moved over to him and held out her hand.
He didn’t hesitate as he took it, and they resumed their journey to Valiant Keep.
They spoke less as they got closer to their destination. The mood had turned somber after the skirmish, and they could no longer avoid their inevitable parting. There was less laughter and more argument. It only got worse when the Enduring Mountains came into view.
“Who do you think is worse? The steward or Neanthal?”
“Really, Aros?”
“Look how many monarchists you took out. We need you!”
Loraya wanted to change her mind and join him, but her brother’s faces would flash in front of her eyes and prevent her from agreeing to anything. If she left, she’d not only be letting the traditionalists down; she’d be letting down her brothers and everything they fought and died for. She couldn’t let it go, even for the man that she loved.
“I thought you understood.”
“I do understand,” Aros said. “I just want to convince you otherwise.”
They changed the subject after that, and the sky changed along with them. The clouds became heavier as the sun sunk closer to the horizon. Night was on its way, and the lights of Valiant Keep were suddenly in view.
Aros froze as he gazed at the lights. “How am I supposed to sway them if I can’t sway you?”
“Tell them Neanthal is a traditionalist,” she joked.
Aros looked at her and smiled. “Maybe I will.”
“I’ll take you a litter further and then you’re on your own.”
Loraya and Aros only made it a few steps closer to Valiant Keep before someone appeared in their path.
A woman with a silver cloak and magenta hair faded into being in front of them and solidified.
“Rikki?” Aros asked.
Rikki looked back at both of them. “Oh, good,” she said as she turned to face them. “I need your help.”