by D. H. Dunn
“And one of those becomes the Scrye?” Nima leaned back against the side of the rickety canoe, allowing the speeding ocean spray to pass over her. Val’s culture was confusing, but she remembered how strange Drew’s America had seemed when he first told her of it.
“The High Elder will be brought into the cave and will randomly select a child in secret. Even the High Elder does not know which child is selected. A special crystal called the diava is used to alter the child’s headcrystal, the infant will become the Scrye by the next morning. Then the attendants will be led in and those desiring to be parents will be given a child.”
“So your mother . . . is not your mother?” Nima asked.
“She absolutely is my mother, just as my father is my father. Or, he was,” Val said, looking down for a moment. “They raised me, they taught me how to swim, how to fish and how to use my crystal. Blood cannot teach that. My blood is Caenolan just as his and hers are, that is the only blood that matters.”
“And the Scrye?”
“The Scrye is watched over by an attendant, but the Scrye is not raised. The role of the Scrye is an honored one, the Scrye will protect our village from the next Tempest. It will let us know when the Calm has begun, and when we begin the next festival. There is no greater honor, no greater protector of our village than the Scrye.”
“So during the Calm, the Scrye must be the center of everyone’s attention.” She imagined the small child she held in her arms, the focus of everyone in Val’s village. “How do you know when the Calm is over and it is safe? When the rains stop?”
“The crystal on the Scrye, it will shine brightly when the Tempest is coming, and it will keep shining, brighter than any of our crystals can shine, until the Tempest is truly past. Then the crystal will slowly dim, and when it is dark, we know the Calm has begun and it is safe to return to the harbor.”
“I don’t think I have seen any of your people with crystals that were dark.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than Nima remembered the one dark crystal she had seen, her stomach beginning to clench.
Val’s father, lying in the river where she and Tanira had found him.
“Our crystals are lit until we have no life force,” Val said. “It is the same with the Scrye. When the Calm is truly upon the water, we will return to the harbor. The fallen Scrye will be honored in the Field of Calm and the cycle will begin anew.”
“What?” Nima shouted, standing in the boat. Val sat at the other end of the vessel, looking back at her. Roused by her movement, the Scrye gazed up at her, reflecting the moonlight in her eyes.
The child was going to die. Even worse, the child was supposed to die.
Val gasped in surprise at the Scrye’s rousing.
Nima looked down at the baby in her arms. So much depended on the brightly glowing crystal centered on her forehead. Yet it was only the eyes she saw, her own face reflected back in their helpless ebony interior.
“Is there no way to save her?”
“Save the Scrye?” Val asked. “It is the Scrye. It has the form of a child but a different role. Its role would be fulfilled. I do not understand, but I can try to answer your question. Whatever causes the Tempest and the Calm, the diava crystals are connected to it. There always a few of these on the beaches of the harbor when the Calm is over. Some think that it is the power of the Tempest itself, that this burns through the Scrye. If the Tempest were to be prevented, perhaps the Scrye would not be consumed.”
Nima looked down at the tiny Caenolan she held in her arms one fact becoming clear in her heart, as sudden as if it had always been buried there and was only now revealed.
She would not let this child die. She had no idea how, but Nima would find a way to save her.
Chapter 23
The first docking poles of Caenola appeared through the morning fog so suddenly that their small boat collided gently with them before Nima or Val could react, sliding their craft alongside the wet wood. Beyond the dock was more mist, more clouds, and silence from the village beyond.
Val hopped off the boat onto the wooden beam, Nima amazed with how he could even see the small surface he was leaping to in all the fog. He held out his hand, Nima keeping the Scrye in one arm while she accepted his hand in the other. His skin was warm, a contrast to the cold air around them, and the strength in his grip helped reassure her.
Around them, they could see vague shapes through the mist, a few were recognizable as tents and huts, but most were just semi-transparent blurs of shadow, dancing out of form whenever Nima tried to pin them down.
“Shouldn’t there be someone here?” Nima asked, dropping her voice to a whisper.
“Yes. The approach is never unmanned during the day, someone would need to be here for the fishers and shellers to help guide them in. If not for the mistwhales we would be lost. It’s unlikely I would have ever found Caenola on my own.”
“This fog!” Nima said, peering down at the thin rods of wood she balanced across, the wispy vapors obscuring them even as she stood on them. “It was foggy here before, but can even the mistwhales do this?”
“They can if they are asked,” Val said. “The Thartark do not see well, perhaps the High Elder ordered this as some sort of defense. We must--” Val froze, holding his hand up to Nima.
She stopped moving, placing her hand over the child’s forehead to lessen the light given off from her crystal. Someone was coming.
A shape slowly appeared ahead of Val. As it came closer, it was clearly Caenolan. Nima poised herself to try and run back to the boat.
“Yanare,” Val said, even as the figure still appeared as a shadow to Nima. She was disappointed to hear the woman’s name, she had been the most hostile of the Caenolans to them.
“The Breaker of Rules,” Yanare said. “More so than your father. Much more so. The High Elder will wish to see you.”
The satisfaction and malice was clear in her tone, but Nima could barely see the woman’s face, only her yellow crystal being clear through the fog.
“I wish to see him,” Val said. “You, I have no need or time for.”
Val pushed past her, Yanare scrambling to keep her balance and stay on the wooden scaffold. Nima chuckled as she scurried past, not caring that Yanare heard her.
She followed Val’s hurrying form along the floating platforms as the buildings of Caenola passed beside them like ghosts. Nima could see some evidence of repairs, mostly in the small patches of hide she saw sewn haphazardly on some of the roofs. Much of the burnt wood on the docks had been removed as well, creating another hazard as she watched her footing around the holes in the platforms.
She saw very few of Val’s people, no more than a handful of Caenolans, hunched over as they worked on restoring their village. It was an odd echo of what she had seen on the Thartark island, another community beaten down and struggling to recover.
“Val, we’ve got to help these people,” she said as he continued his relentless path through the maze of ocean-bound platforms.
“That is what we are here for.” Val stopped outside the tent Nima recognized as the one where they had spoken to the Elders. He looked at her, his expression serious as the intensity of his headcrystal increased.
“We will help my people,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “With you at my side, I know I can make them listen. Are you ready?”
Was she ready? Nima had no idea, but she was not ready to let Val face the Elders alone. She would do as best she could, armed with the feeling of confidence Val’s words had given her.
“Let’s go.”
Inside the elder’s hut, Nima found the tension almost as thick as the fog outside. Val stood in front of her, directly before the High Elder, with Yanare on one side of the elder and Val’s friend, Zelquan, on the other. All eyes were upon Nima, or rather what she held.
“High Elder!” Yanare yelled. She had done little else since arriving, just seconds after Val and Nima had. “This renegade and his family are what has caused all of th
is. First his father and now--”
The High Elder Chantez silenced Yanare with a gesture, the woman’s hands curling in frustration.
“He is here now, Yanare,” Chantez said, his voice as much of a rasped whisper as before. “He has broken rules, but he has also accomplished much. I would hear him speak, not your words over his. Be silent or remove yourself.”
“Thank you, High Elder,” Val said as Yanare took a step away from Chantez, shifting her glare from the old man to Nima. Nima favored her with a smile as she stepped forward to stand next to Val.
“How is it you came to bring back the Scrye?” Chantez asked.
“There is a tale,” Val said. “Yet there are much more urgent matters we need to speak of. Plain to see that she is here, back among us.”
“She?” Yanare asked, clucking her tongue and earning another look from Chantez.
“As you can see from the Scrye,” Val said, motioning to the sleeping child in Nima’s arms. “The Tempest is coming. Yet this will be a Tempest like none before. We cannot be certain of its start, but it will bring with it a wave surpassing all in song and memory. We must begin the leaving immediately and we must find higher caves.”
Air hissed out of Yanare’s teeth at Val’s words.
“You speak boldly of what I must do, young Valaen,” Chantez said. “Of the coming Tempest, I can see the evidence on the Scrye. Your claims of a greater wave, how do you know this?”
“High Elder I--” Val stopped, rubbing his head with his hand. “It is complex to--”
“We spoke to a creature.” Nima said. She could feel all the eyes in the room shift to her, Val’s included. It was the truth, so what was the harm? “Something massive and ancient, it called itself Sessgrenimath. The Thartark had been living on it, thinking it was an island. This creature has been woken up. That part is complicated too. But as we were leaving the island, it saved us and wanted to talk to us.”
“Sessgrenimath?” Yanare asked, a grin forming over her face. “An island that was also a beast? A giant monster?”
“There are tales of such things, Yanare.” Chantez said. “It is not beyond belief.”
“Why did it want to talk to you?” Zelquan asked. It was the first time the man had spoken since they arrived. Nima noted that Zelquan stepped closer to Val after he spoke, moving with a slight limp.
“The Scrye,” Val said. “It was curious about it.”
“This creature is connected to her,” Nima said, displaying the child and feeling a bit of pride. “He can feel when the child becomes the Scrye, we think that is why you have Tempests. It was asleep, but trying to wake up.”
“Now it is awake,” Val said. “I can see your expressions, but this is no myth. We watched the home of the Thartark shake itself, probably apart. We spoke with this creature. It was vast, all we could see was its eyes. It spoke to us, and helped us return so that we may warn Caenola. How else could we have escaped?”
“If this is true,” Chantez said, absently tracing the side of his crystal with his finger, “then we have been warned already. You, Climber Nima. The other woman of your kind arrived ahead of you. She delivered something of the same warning, though yours had much more detail.”
“Tanira was here?” Nima asked, her eyes wide. Why would she come back here? Why would she warn the Caenolans?
“She was indeed, and in great haste. Val, your friend Zelquan here attempted to delay her so she might explain herself better and paid a consequence for that.”
“I wanted her to tell me if you two were all right,” Zelquan said. “She did not like me blocking her path.” He rubbed his leg, the pants noticeably bulkier below the shin.
“This Tanira, a knight I think you introduced her as,” Chantez continued. “She was on her way to whatever destination summoned her, but she did take a moment to warn passersby that the Tempest was coming. She offered no other details; indeed she did not even stop moving, but she recommended as you do. A hasty departure for the caves.”
“Thus, some who believed her have already begun the departure,” Yanare said with a sigh. “Some of the village is in caravans already and headed to the forest, despite the dire dangers present in the wood. Most though have stayed behind to try and deduce the truth of this. Still that even some would leave without the High Elder’s word . . . The influence of you and your father, Valaen. A poisoning of the structure that has kept us safe for generations!”
Chantez silenced Yanare with a look.
“Enough. Alas, the evidence we need is here. The Scrye is here, and Valaen is here with the same warnings as his companion. It is sufficient. We shall begin the leavings immediately.”
“What of the Scrye, High Elder?” Zelquan said. “There are no attendants left who may care for it.”
“It seems quite attached to the young lady here, and she has protected it well,” Chantez said. “She will retain that role during the pilgrimage.”
Nima’s face began to flush as she looked down at the small, sleeping form in her arms. She felt protective of her, happy to not have to turn the child over to these people who seemed to view her as a thing rather than a tiny person.
Yet she was a tiny person, a person Nima was going to care for, at least in the short term. That was a responsibility she had never considered, a role she never considered to be in her future.
Chantez acted as though that matter was settled. “Valaen, we can discuss the more extraordinary circumstances of your time with the Thartark during our journey, as well as your future within the village. For now, I remove your expulsion.” The old man held up a hand to Yanare’s impending reaction, her mouth clamping shut. “Whatever opposition there might be, they will be heard as well. I cannot ignore that Valaen has risked his life to bring us both the Scrye and the opportunity to escape this Tempest. In that, you have served Caenola well.”
Nima put her free arm around Valaen, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. His skin felt warmer than normal, a small smile on his lips. Her own smile was broad, her feelings of joy and pride in Val welling up inside her.
“Thank you, High Elder,” he said. “Whatever credit might be due me, it was twofold earned by Nima. It was she who freed both myself and the Scrye from the Thartark.”
The High Elder stood and bowed deeply to Nima.
“Then you have our thanks as well, Nima, Climber of Everest, and keeper of the Scrye. Our debt is to you.”
Nima bowed in return, feeling warmth coming to her cheeks. It was wonderful to see Val get the respect from his people he deserved, but to have all of them look at her like she was some kind of hero was embarrassing.
Her grandfather would have loved it though, she was sure.
“Come then, Valaen,” High Elder Chantez said, stepping toward the door. “There is much to prepare, and we will need both you and your friend to help us.”
“One last question, High Elder,” Val said. “I know she was only here out of courtesy during my last audience, but I was hoping for a short delay to see my mother.”
Chantez reacted as if he had been injured by the question.
“Ah!” he said. “My old mind, so much to sort through and order. I should have told you this upon seeing you, Valaen, but your mother . . .”
“What, High Elder?” Val cried. “What about my mother?”
Nima could feel the tension rising in Val, his muscles tightening next to her.
“She is gone, lost.” Zelquan said. “She was one of the first to flee, ignoring our warnings about the dangers, the beasts that walk the dark between the trees. I am sorry Valaen, your mother is in the Wood!”
Chapter 24
By the time Upala and Merin finally appeared on the dark trail leading from the Yeti’s cave, Drew felt about ready to burst. It had been all Trillip could do to keep him here, healing from Sinar’s attack while the Manad Vhan and Merin had gone to rescue Upala.
Seeing the two small silhouettes, tiny shadows illuminated by the moon, sent his heart racing. They were safe. S
he was safe. His legs felt ready to run to her, his arms ready to pull her into his embrace.
Instead, he gazed back at the far-off peak of Everest. Ish Rav Partha perhaps it was for the people of this world, but it was still Everest to him. Just as the many mountains he and Sinar had glided above were also Everest. Just as the strange, green version was, where Nima was now in danger.
Focusing on the mountain and Nima allowed his mind to clear, helped keep his passions on the ground where he needed them. He may have been influenced by the rasi sakta, but it was passion all the same.
Merin came into the moonlight, her face looking weary and pained. Upala walked alongside her, her bright eyes contacting Drew’s, sending a fresh current of longing into his limbs.
She was only a few yards away, he could close that distance in seconds. He could take her in his arms, powered by the joy he felt at her return he could show her all she meant to him.
With effort, he kept himself in place, pushing down on the ground with his feet to keep his boots from moving.
Upala stopped walking, mirroring his restraint. He breathed a sigh, in relief as well as frustration. He could resist her at a distance, but up close he wasn’t so sure.
“I-I was worried I wouldn’t see you again. Either of you.” He noted Sinar was not with them, but he was not ready to ask what had happened to him. That he might be dead was too much to hope for, even if that would have pleased Sinar as well.
“I felt the same about you, Drew,” Merin said. “Healing powers or not, it was difficult to leave you despite Sinar’s assurances.”
He turned a bit, looking off into the plains. Keeping Upala in the corner of his eye made it easier to focus.
“We need to talk about Sinar,” Drew said. “I don’t know where he is going, but I know what he intends to do and--” He paused, looking around at Merin, Trillip, and longest at Upala. He felt the tear inside was going to split him in two. “I don’t know what to do. I know everything is really crashing down here, I know that you both need me here, but... he’s going after Nima. I don’t know how, but I can’t just let him do that.”