by Lesley Smith
Abbia was so close but Eirian never glimpsed more than the blur of the skyline. Home was a heartbeat away and yet she would never step on the sacred isle. Instead the groups split at Jhritian, with Eirian’s party going north and the smaller remnant, including the Clanparents, Saiara, Vashi and Jeiana headed on to the City of Tents.
Eirian rode a younger baelish with Vashi’s beloved holding the reins, the beast moving at a gentle trot across level ground. She was suddenly painfully aware she was one of the last in a long line of oracles. Geetha and Keiue were gone, Shaari was taken too soon, and Saiara was so young. Her own survival was Aia’s will. The Order might be dying, but if Saiara was to lead, Eirian still had a role to play. There was knowledge to be passed on, lessons to be taught and Eirian was sure Saiara would be everything Jashri was not.
There would only be one voice, whispering in the darkness of a storm that raged down the millennia…
Eirian wondered when she would pass across the River and be reunited with Khannam. Would it be natural or would she be dragged from this life? Jaisenthia and the Ferryman came for all, of course, but when you were on speaking terms with her incarnation…it was a surreal prospect. If she asked, would the indwelt woman even be able to answer her? Should she ask?
Life and death, rebirth and movement through eternity. That was the order of things.
If the gods had wanted their children to know the workings of the universe, they would have said so before now. Eirian remembered parables where Ishvei had fielded questions from both Kaiene and Jadias on the higher realms where time wasn’t a factor, where the gods themselves existed beyond and between with powers that made them seem so much more than any mortal. Eirian supposed the baelish might say the same of the Kashinai if they ever learned to speak.
Aia whispered, her voice gentle and kind: Don’t fret, daughter, what must be will be. You can only do what is within your power. Now you must focus on Baaren and those in your care.
“Kadian, how long to Baaren?”
“If the weather stays good, a half-day, Mother,” Kadian replied, mentally working out the distance as only an Edoi child could.
Eirian, when she was still Lenara, had made this journey once or twice, but it felt so long ago. That other time seemed further away than years, as if she was trying to pinpoint specific lives lived in the past. “Will you describe the landscape for me? My mental picture has faded, it needs a new coat of colour.”
“Of course, Mother.” He knew she was Edoi and that getting so close to home but not stepping foot there was hard. “The grasses are in flower, blue and purple. They’ve grown so high that, for Gerad and the other baelish, it’s like wading through water. On the horizon I see the Canhei Mountains, topped with white.”
Eirian said, “I imagine I can hear the Sani Falls right behind every other noise, the bird song, the movement, it’s a soft drone on the edge of my hearing.”
Kadian was enjoying himself, she could hear it. “We’re following a tributary north to the Hidden Pass so perhaps you can. It’s the same water and it remembers it traveled over the falls just a short time ago. Mother, I’m sorry you couldn’t go home.”
“Abbia moves and the Edoi will follow us. Home is where your family is, Kadian,” Eirian said. “I’m just glad so many followed.”
“How many souls does it take to save a race, though?” He asked.
“As many as you can find,” Eirian said. “We must number five thousand all told.”
“Half the city stayed and drowned, the Varaiah are lost in the darkness, the people of the Oasis Road who never lived long enough to see freedom. Jio…”
“Death comes, Kadian. Rather than fear Jaisenthia, embrace her as your dearest friend. She comes to all of us, she helps us through the greatest time of sorrow.”
“I see her in Jeiana.” Kadian shook his head. “I never truly believed the gods walked amongst us. Not until Vashi came back to me when she should have died.”
“She doesn’t call herself that though, does she?” Eirian pulled her waterskin from her hip and took a drink, then handed it to Kadian. “She couches what she is in language we can understand. I don’t think she is a god, not as we understand them. The deities have always been archetypes for us to aspire to. Ideals of semi-perfection.”
“Then what is she?”
“A blessing, a guide on untravelled roads,” Eirian said. “She is Vashi’s saviour, and regardless of what or whom she is, we will all remember her.”
“I would hope we would be remembered too,” he said soberly. “For wisdom rather than foolishness.”
“She will remember us even after we forget ourselves,” Eirian said. “That’s her burden.”
The Hidden Pass called to them, a narrow parting through the rock. If they’d traveled by night it would have been possible to see the River of Stars above them in the ocean of the heavens. They followed the snaking river, walking in twos or riding single file. The rock was cracked, Eirian could feel the age under her fingers. She remembered it as if she was still Lenara, she could still see with half-forgotten memories even as as the air turned cool from the lack of sunlight.
Then came the water, rushing in a torrent. The Falls cascaded eternally. The noise reminded her of the Suiashveram, but the Sani was much more impressive, both visually and religiously. The Sani was the sacred River of Stars, the mirror of the celestial river that Ishvei had woven into her world, the ultimate reflection of the beauty of the heavens.
“Kadian, would you fish out some stones and hand them around to help us walk through the darkness?”
She felt him slip off the baelish and heard him hook the reins to his belt. “Irrhi, Dani, take these and pass them out.”
Lightstones were rare outside of the north. The library in Aiaea had used them, as did the Edoi, but they remained a little piece of mystery. Edoi legend said that pieces of starstone had fallen into the river as Ishvei slowly carved the first Kashinai. When left to charge in Thaeos’ or Kaiene’s light, they held a portion of the light and glowed in the darkness.
Kadian slipped a stone into her palm, it was cool and yet as they moved, it became warm as the energy inside was released. She could just see the light in the gloom, a holy and pure light which dispelled fear and ignorance. Having one in her hand reassured her on an old level, one deeper than the flesh and memory.
“Thank you, Kadian.”
“I’ll walk you through, Mother, if you trust me?”
“Of course, my boy, I trust you as I do Vashi.”
Eirian pulled her hakashari closer. The lack of Thaeos’ light sent the temperature plummeting to uncomfortable levels. Thaeos shone here but only at midday, and she was glad they had picked dusk to do this part. “Do you know how many we lost, Kadian?”
“I could make an educated guess. It would be depressingly inaccurate though. Vashi suggested a census, not as a gift of Ascension, but as a practicality once we all reach Canhei. If we survive Thaeos’ rage.”
Eirian knew he was right, Vashi would act as a good advisor to Saiara once she passed across the River. “She is a wise one, your beloved.”
“She’s old, Mother.”
“What makes you think you’re not?” Eirian asked. “All of us are old in different ways, sometimes lifetimes worth of lessons can be learned in days or years.”
“Days?” She could hear the shudder in his voice. “You mean Vashi is dying, don’t you?”
“She learned that true loyalty is fueled by love, not fear. Vashi learned that and survived against all the odds stacked against her. A miracle, if you ask me.”
“It’s good to live in a world where those still happen,” he agreed, and they rode on through the darkness.
Hours away, past the Sani Falls and heading for Baaren, Senna closed her eyes and saw the world as the oracles did for a moment. She could smell moss and the dampness of rushing water and the rich smell of life which pervaded the forest, accentuated by back notes in the form of the perfume of delicate flowers an
d sun-drying herbs. Thaeos’ light danced against her closed eyelids and the water was more of a melody than the music played in the temple at New Year.
The forest stretched further than she could see. The maps gave it the same size as the desert but maps were never to scale. No one quite knew how big the Forest of the Lightflies was, and every inch of it, along with Canhei, was holy ground. This was where they, as a race, believed they’d been created. Senna thought the story was just that, but there was a magic in it which carried on down the years.
Chelle was sitting with her; she was quietly focused on finishing the necklace she’d been making since meeting Jeiana. Kei’a was playing with a leaf pulled from one of the trees, and Sui’a was sleeping soundly in a sling, held safe and securely close to her mother’s budded breasts if she needed to feed.
“It’s beautiful. Gehol was a city of rock and water, we never had anything this…alive.”
“I like it, the way the light dapples through the trees,” Senna said. “And it offers protection as well as safety.”
“It feels…I don’t know,” Chelle voiced her thoughts. “Almost too easy.”
“You forget the trials. The journey was hard enough and not all survived it.”
“True,” the artisan sat back. “There, I’m finished. Would you try this on for me, so I can see how it sits on a live model?”
Senna carefully picked up the necklace. It was beautifully simple, a baelish leather thong on which a pearl had been fixed to what looked like a lily flower cast in silver.
“It’s beautiful.”
“That pearl, Jeiana gave it to me the night we first met. She said my sister had found it just before she passed and would want me to use it,” Chelle said without sadness. “She told me that in another time, in a life not lived, that you and she would have been true mates, sharing a soul. Is that true?”
“She believes it to be true, and I know I love her.” Senna fastened the necklace around her throat. “It looks like an open caavashell.”
“That was what it was supposed to be, but I found a lily in the Jhritian market and had a blacksmith make a quick wax cast. I melted down my necklace for the silver and he was obliging when I explained whom it was for.”
“Oh?” Senna cocked her head. “A gift for Jeiana?”
“No, she already wears one of my pieces, one with some prophetic meaning, if the tale she told me was true.” Chelle said. “No, I made this for you, so that even after Ana forgets, you might remember on her behalf.”
“I can’t take this, Chelle,” Senna tried to refuse, it was polite and yet she realised the necklace did suit her. She had seen it and quietly longed for it, even more so now it was complete.
“You can and you will, because I made it for your neck and no other.”
“Thank you, honestly. I will cherish it.”
“You could think of it as a joining gift.”
Senna was amused as she realised it was not just some haphazard gift but something carefully planned. “Ah, your true intentions become clear.”
“I don’t do it just because I see how much you love each other. It won’t be long now, until Ana forgets herself. I’ve seen it, she’s fading, slipping away. You will love her even when she forgets, and I don’t think even her true persona understands how important that will be.”
“It scares her,” Senna said, fingers feeling the gentle curve of the cast flower, immortalised for eternity in glinting metal. “And yet she accepts the cost.”
“It will be harder for you, I think.”
“I’ve had patients suffering something like this. The Vatani—the Fading, but she is not forgetting, she is just remembering who she was before Jaisenthia borrowed her bones. It saddens me to lose her. I fell in love with who she is now, not the woman she was.”
“But you love her, that won’t change.”
“She promised me, in a time to come, we will be united as we were supposed to be, in another place. A gift for the heartbreak,” Senna said. “She doesn’t understand that I’ve never seen it that way, never ever.”
“Then she is the lucky one.” Chelle shifted her weight and Kei’a whimpered, slowly waking. “All right, my littlest one, we’re nearly home.”
“Home, eh?”
“Taras told me that in the Baareni dialect that ‘Canhei’ means ‘birthplace’, the first home you’ll ever have.”
“I hope he’s going to be okay,” Senna said.
“Meresia seemed confident that he will be. She said it took time, but the pain of Ishran’s death faded. It will be the same with Jio, even if it will take the rest of his life.” Chelle held her daughter close, eyes settling on Kei’a who was oblivious in her own little universe. “There is no greater loss to a parent than a child. I count my blessings daily that I have not one, but two daughters, and that they are safe.”
“You tried,” Senna said. “It’s all we can do.”
“Exactly, sister, it’s what makes us Kashinai.”
She had thought the Azure Grasslands restful, and the Edoi seemed happier. Once they reached the forest, though, and made stop at Ishvei’s Rest, the mood changed again. The caravan of wandering souls became a slow-moving choir, the air almost fevered and euphoric as old songs were sung, as auspices were laid at the sacred shrine and the Rite of Water and Roots performed by several hundred, and was still being performed when Eirian insisted they had to move.
This was where she had them split again, Kadian, Eirian and Senna going to Baaren while the caravan wound through the forest. The way was known, the route marked, and people from the small town had already come to show the way to the Basin so the cityfolk wouldn’t get lost. That was where Senna hugged Chelle and left her to go with them while she rode with Eirian and Kadian.
Riding into Baaren, Senna needed to stretch her legs so she clambered down from the cart and walked with Eirian and Kadian. The boy was walking with the practised movements of a baelish driver, calm and confident as they descended the hill into the low-lying Baaren Bay where the town lay sheltered.
“Why did you ask me to come, Mother?” Senna asked. “Surely it would have been better to have my skills at the Basin.”
“Lyse cannot walk, we’ll need your skills to help transport her safely,” Eirian replied. “Did Halom Davos ever teach you about the removal of the ieshiya?”
“It used to be a punishment, didn’t it?” Senna was trying to remember her lessons, the facts, and not her old tutor’s biases. “In the olden times before Kaiene rose.”
“Worse than death,” Kadian said, his nose wrinkling in unabashed disgust. “Death was quicker, more merciful.”
“He has a point,” Eirian said softly. “What Darus did disgusted even Jashri, heart hardened and fearful as she was.”
“It wasn’t sanctioned then, truly?” Senna asked, thinking of the blind girl she had tried to calm and whose trust she had failed to gain. Jashri had been broken even then, and Darus accidentally shattered what was left of her. All of that was done now, in the past, and she hoped all of them would find their peace in their after-lives.
“No,” Eirian said, lips pursed. “He thought she might reward him, but he did it for his own pleasure; to remind Jashri that she might hate him, but she needed him.”
“A High Oracle must, after all, have an attendant,” Senna echoed. “Even though she never let him have that title.”
“He was a beast,” Kadian snapped, vitriol in his voice. “A sadist.”
Eirian laid a hand on his shoulder. “Peace, my son, your dearest one walks with us still. The damage was undone and there’s no point in wasting your hate on a dead man.”
“As you say, Mother,” Kadian said. “We’ll be there shortly. Senna, care to run ahead and tell them we’re coming? Some water for the baelish would be good, and for us also.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’ll race you there.”
Baaren was an odd little place. Senna realised the streets were empty, the town populated by shades not yet
dead. Homes had been quit, possessions left behind, and those who remained were pulling barrows and carts with food, blankets, and other essentials. The people watched her and she wondered if they understood the common tongue.
“I seek Lyse, can you show me where she resides?”
Blank stares greeted her, so she tried the Edoi dialect. That got a response, and a child went running up the narrow street to a building on the far side of town. By the time the child returned with a blue-robed priestess, Eirian and Kadian had arrived. Kadian had caught the sun, his skin red and blistering, and Senna made a mental note to take him aside and tend to the burn-blisters as soon as they were inside.
“Greetings, travellers, my name is Cie and I’m attendant to Her Grace, Lyse the Beloved, Oracle of Baaren and Voice of Aia here in the northern lands. I welcome you, children, and you, Eirian the Wise, Mother of the Aian Order. Come inside and find rest, Lyse is keen to see you.”
Senna let Cie guide them up the street, Kadian walking beside Eirian who walked with her staff. The monastery didn’t look like the temple or any religious building she’d ever seen. It appeared like a house, albeit larger and all on one storey, with Aia’s sigil carved into the door.
It was only when they stepped inside that Senna realised how hot it was outside. The darkness was blissfully cool, and for a moment her head swam, the transition was too quick, too abrupt.
Cie brought them cups of water and a small loaf of bread, they ate and drank, and Senna found a corner to wash her hands and set out her things.
“Kadian, come, let me look at you.”
“I caught the sun, it happens.”
“And you look like you’ve put your skin in a fire. Sit and let me dress the wound.”
He grumbled but sat. The burn was across his right shoulder and down his chest, as if someone had spilled boiling water on his skin. She incised the wound and released the fluid, concerned by the colour and viscosity of it. It wasn’t pus, but it wasn’t the clear or slightly tinted fluid which came with a blister or a burn either.
“That’s not normal, right?” Kadian asked, transfixed and repulsed at the same time.