Journey of Awakening

by Shawna Thomas

  The woman blinked. “Sorry. When you live alone, you forget things like manners or even names, though I’ve always been a bit absentminded when it comes to such things. I am Vadoma of the clan Sura of the Zorcani. I was once their healer.”

  Sara turned to Zeynel. The healer!

  “What are you applying to his feet? I don’t recognize the smell,” Vadoma asked.

  After handing her the bottle, Sara recited the formula.

  “Ah, you know your herbs.” The woman regarded Sara steadily. “But you are no true healer.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” Sara replied. “There is more than one way to heal.”

  Vadoma nodded. “This is true. You are heading toward Foros?”

  Sara glanced toward Zeynel. “We journey to the Akier’s son.”

  If Vadoma was surprised, she hid it well. Moving toward the fire, she inspected the contents of a pot hanging on a tripod just out the flames’ reach, then scooped out two bowls of thick liquid, handing them to Sara and Zeynel. “This will warm you from the inside.”

  As Sara sipped the hot soup, warmth spread down her throat and through her body. Had she ever been so cold? She found herself inspecting the outside the soup bowl for moisture. She’d heard that woven baskets could be waterproof, but she’d never seen one.

  Vadoma moved around the small cave, occasionally standing on her tiptoes to look in the baskets hanging from the soot-stained rock and take a pinch of something out of one to place in the basket she held against her hip. Zeynel watched the Zorcani woman with respect in his blue eyes.

  Muttering to herself, Vadoma took her spoils and tossed them in another blackened pot, added some snow and placed it near the fire. “The steam will ward off any sickness the cold might cause.” She settled on a grass matt near Sara

  Sara nodded, inhaling the first hint of rosemary and eucalyptus.

  “I was out gathering fuel when I saw you coming up the path. One does not travel these mountains in the middle of a storm for no purpose, but I did not guess what that purpose might be. Please indulge an old woman and tell me who sent you on such an errand.”

  Sara regarded the old woman. “Tobar, of the Heleini.”

  Vadoma stared deep into Sara’s eyes, her gaze solemn, then she cackled. “Oh my, that is a twist I didn’t expect. Clever, clever though.” She ran her hand over her face, rearranging the wrinkles, then let them settle back into place. “You are aware, then, there are more than the usual number of Zorcani warriors patrolling these paths?”

  “We haven’t seen any, but assumed they were there. Our only question is why they haven’t detained us yet.”

  “Gunari probably expected Tobar to come in force. The unexpected is oft times harder to prepare for.” Her expression held a tint of sorrow. “Gunari won’t let you near the boy.”

  Sara glanced at Zeynel before returning her gaze to Vadoma. “Could you at least tell us what is wrong with him? We only know that he’s dying.”

  Vadoma stared into the flames then took a deep breath. “I will tell you. But for me as much as for you. There is a great deal I don’t understand in what happened, and often telling the tale reveals as much to the narrator as to the listener.” She settled onto her mat. “But I must start before the accident.”

  Sara and Zeynel nodded.

  “A moon ago, the traders visited the Zorcani. This is not unusual, except this year, they were later than we expected. Among them was a trader from the east. A tall man with eyes dark as night and a smooth way about him. Traders do not deviate from their routes or allow others to encroach so I watched. I studied the way he spoke and although he said nothing wrong or improper, he said much that was too right.

  “Not long after, Shandor was playing with his friends among the rocks to the north. Some of the boys came running into camp yelling that Shandor had been bitten by a viper. Gunari sent men to carry him back. When he brought the boy to me, his leg was discolored and swelling. I bled out the poison but the flow would not stop—the venom was powerful. I placed compressions on the wound and it slowed. Shandor emptied his stomach until there was nothing left but gall. His heart beat quickly in his chest and his breaths came fast and shallow.

  “I prepared a drink to purify and strengthen his blood. Still he was confused and weak. After a few days, his hands and feet began to swell. He would not take any food or liquid. I had to drip water into his mouth and coax him to swallow.” Vadoma raised her hands in the air then dropped them. “Everything I tried failed. I told Gunari there was no more to be done but wait to see what the One willed. The Easterner with the traders claimed to be a healer in his land. He said there was still poison in the boy’s blood and it must come out. He said the boy must be purified and that no liquid should pass his mouth and the room should be kept closed. He ordered water to be poured over the hot rocks in the fire pit four times a day.” Vadoma spat into the fire. “Foolishness. But Gunari was desperate.

  “I argued with him to no avail. Shandor started to rave. His hands grew cold, his eyes sunken and dark. One day, the Easterner found me giving the boy sips of water mixed with honey. He didn’t rage as I expected. I’ll never forget the small smile that played on his mouth before he calmly turned to leave. He went to Gunari and accused me of trying to keep the boy ill.” Vadoma made a sound deep in her throat.

  “Gunari, who I saw emerge from his mother’s womb, told me I was no longer Zorcani, that I was exiled and to show my face in the village would mean my death.”

  Vadoma stared into the flames. “I do not know if the boy lives but I do know, if he does, his father will not let you see him.”

  “Thank you, Vadoma, but we must to try.”

  Vadoma locked eyes with Sara. “Then remember one more thing. It was not the season for vipers.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “From what Vadoma said, do you know what ails the boy?” Zeynel lay huddled next to Sara, the cave dark around them save for the red-hot coals winking in the fire pit. Vadoma’s gentle snore sounded from somewhere in the dark recesses of the cave.

  The blanket moved with Sara’s deep breath. The old healer had only had one extra to spare. “Besides the reaction to the venom, it sounds like he went into shock. The swelling could be his body reacting to poison...or he could be dying. I don’t know. I won’t know until I see him. I do know if he was being kept alive until Danladi got there, we need to hurry.” The wind howled in the night. “How far ahead of us do you think they were?”

  “The Zorcani? The Rabishi took Danladi a couple of days before we left but they had to meet with the Zorcani somewhere to the north. They didn’t take this path, Vadoma would have seen them.”

  Sara nodded and though Zeynel couldn’t see the motion, he could feel it.

  “What if I can’t heal him or he’s already dead?”

  “Sara—” She still had so little faith in her abilities. The thin strings of Teann that had surrounded her when he first saw her on the dusty road had grown, strengthened. Pride filled his chest but he knew it was unfounded. He’d only had to point her in the right direction.

  “No, it’s something we must consider.”

  “Then the next step is Tobar’s.”

  “Yes, and I doubt he is going to wait for me to heal the Zorcani boy. It’s not in his nature. It’s not a matter of if but when he’ll attack. But who will he attack? The Zorcani or Rabishi?”

  Zeynel sighed. “In the end, it doesn’t matter.”

  Sara stared into the flickering darkness overhead. “You said Ilydearta could find a way through or to anything, right?” she asked.

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “It helped me find Danladi. I’ve kind of used it to predict when a storm will strike. Maybe it can find a way through a snowstorm.”

  In the dark, Zeynel smiled.

  * * *


  The next morning, Sara checked the exhausted contents of their packs. “A day’s march, you said?”

  Vadoma nodded as she wrapped hot stones to put in their pockets. “You are most likely going to your death.”

  Sara turned toward the shrouded entrance. The wind outside moaned like a thwarted lover. The urgency that drove her since leaving the Heleini had built to a crescendo. She didn’t think the boy was dead, but time was running out. “Perhaps, but we must get to Shandor.”

  Vadoma stared at Sara for a moment then neared to lay a pale delicate hand on each shoulder. The old healer closed her eyes, moving her fingers down Sara’s arms until she clasped Sara’s hands, kneading them with her own. “You can discover much about a person by their hands.” She turned Sara’s palm up. “Yours are capable, but there is more. They are hands that carry the weight of the world, but not alone. You will seek and find depths within you that you don’t believe possible now. You will be sought by many. But be warned, all who seek you will not want your good.” She opened her eyes and blinked. “You have interesting hands, Sara. If anyone can heal Shandor, you can.”

  Sara rescued her hands, fighting the urge to rub them together. Her palms itched. “I’ll do everything I can.”

  “One more thing,” Vadoma cautioned. “Among the tribes, honor is everything. There are certain customs that must be followed. Giving gifts is one such custom. The Akiers consider themselves brothers, even in these times. It would be dishonorable for Gunari to refuse a gift from his brother Akier. When the warriors find you, tell them you are sent as a gift from Tobar.”

  Sara took Vadoma’s hand in both of hers then kissed both of the woman’s cheeks. “Thank you for your wisdom and hospitality.”

  Vadoma smiled. “It is said among my people that the footsteps of a visitor brings healing to the house. Your presence brought life to these tired bones.”

  Zeynel stepped close and bowed low. “Some men search their whole lives to find such a rare and beautiful gem. I’ve been fortunate enough to have one find me. Farewell, Vadoma.”

  * * *

  The burdened skies sagged beneath the heavy gray clouds. Sara and Zeynel bent before the ever-present wind as they made their way slowly up the mountain. It echoed from the canyons, desolate, chilling the heart as well as the body. Snowdrifts eddied down the path, a river of frozen water, only to be caught by the breeze and scattered.

  Sara’s gaze found Zeynel’s. She mouthed the words, “two behind, at least four ahead.” Zeynel nodded. They’d been trailed since the winds died down. Sara adjusted her pack, making sure her sword was in easy reach, but if the Zorcani had wanted to attack, they’d passed several ideal places for an ambush. She guessed they’d been tracking them since shortly after leaving Vadoma’s cave and finally determined she and Zeynel were alone.

  The path ahead narrowed before it disappeared behind a curve in the mountain. Sara tensed a moment when the first man stepped out of the shadows. Immediately, two men joined him. Sara heard soft footsteps behind her and knew their trackers blocked the way down the mountain. Her muscles relaxed as her senses sharpened. Every movement the Zorcani made seemed detailed. The snow crystallized, each flake standing alone against the myriad gray of the mountain. Sara took a deep breath, mist escaping from her body as she slowly exhaled.

  The leader stepped forward. His robes resembled those of the Heleini, but tied with a brightly colored sash around his waist, rivaling in intensity the color of the turban wrapped around his head. He carried a long pole and wore a leather bag at his back. As he moved, Sara glimpsed sharpened points extending beyond the bag’s lip.

  The man lowered his scarf to reveal full lips and a strong jaw. “I am Mihai. You are in Zorcani territory. What is your purpose?”

  Zeynel stepped forward and bowed low. “I am Zeynel, this is Sara. She is a gift, sent by Tobar of the Heleini.”

  At the mention of the Heleini, the Zorcani lifted the long poles they carried off the ground and onto their shoulders. Darts.

  Zeynel continued without hesitation. “Tobar has heard of the sickness that afflicts your Akier and has sent you a healer who knows of the old ways.”

  Mihai shook his pole. “We are not without healers. Your services are not needed.”

  Sara stepped forward. “Will the Zorcani Akier refuse a gift from a brother?”

  The Zorcani exchanged glances.

  “Or will it be said that the Zorcani denied shelter to weary travelers?” Sara asked.

  Mihai’s jaw clenched and unclenched. His eyes held indecision. With a final glance, seemingly at the horizon, he said, “Come.”

  Zeynel winked as they followed the Zorcani farther up the mountain.

  * * *

  The Zorcani led them up a steep trail blown free of all but a dusting of snow. She ran her gloved hands over the mountainside, the granite yielding now and then to red sandstone. Soon the path forked and the Zorcani took the right narrow passageway cut between two sheer cliff walls. Sara hesitated, looking to the other path, her heart beating quickly. “Mihai, what’s this way?” The leader stopped and turned, irritation clear in his eyes. “It is the path the traders take when they come from the northlands.” The thick scarf wrapping his head muffled his answer but his eyes flickered with misgiving.

  Sara stared up at the narrow strip of dark sky between the mountain walls on either side of her. As she walked, she stretched her arms out to touch both walls.

  The path soon opened to a vast ledge partially sheltered by a giant outcropping of worn granite. As they continued, she saw that the ledge extended deep into the cleft of the mountain, then widened until it sloped down into a valley. Snow eddied around the structures built under the mountain but the massive outcrop protected them from the brunt of the wind. Sara paused to gaze down into the valley. South. She nodded. The Zorcani had built their village to benefit from the sun. Ahead, a group of children watched their progress with dark eyes, their game forgotten. Sara heard a chorus of giggles when the children thought they were out of earshot.

  Mihai stopped before a large domed structure. His gaze moved over them as though gauging their merit, then he shrugged. “In here.”

  They followed the Zorcani through the doorway and into a small room. Thick rushes covered the floors around the perimeter of the area. Low wooden benches circled a fire. Sara brushed back her hood, delighting in the heat on her face, and gazed at the beautiful tapestries that hung from the walls. Images of hinds danced along jagged cliffs in shades of sepia. Women gazed into deep cobalt pools while dragonflies darted among emerald reeds.

  Mihai spoke in low stealthy tones to the other warriors, gesturing with his hands and drawing Sara’s attention away from the tapestries. He turned to them. “Stay here,” he said. He brushed back a curtain along the wall, exposing a second door, and disappeared.

  Zeynel watched as the four remaining guards took up positions in front of the doors, hands crossed before them. “Well, I’ve had better receptions.” He unclasped his cloak and moved to sit on one of the benches, laying his garment over his knees and stretching out his hands toward the flames.

  “What did you expect?” Sara joined him.

  He shrugged.

  “How are your feet?”

  “They burn a bit but not too bad.”

  “Good, if they were numb I’d be worried.” She glanced toward the closest set of guards then leaned toward Zeynel. “They’re loyal, I give them that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “See how they’re fidgeting? They’re very uncomfortable. I think they don’t like what their Akier is doing.”

  Sara examined the other set of guards. If things went bad, she and Zeynel could take these men, but how many more would be waiting for them outside? Their only chance would be to fight and run all the way back to the Faisach, an impossible propo
sition. There would be no use hiding; the Zorcani would know the mountains much better than they did and it was a long way down.

  The curtain rustled and Mihai stepped back in. He speared them with a glance. “Follow me. Leave your weapons here. They will not be touched.”

  Sara nodded at Zeynel then laid her sword on the bench.

  “What is that?” Mihai pointed to her wooden sword with his chin.

  Reluctantly, Sara placed her practice sword and knife on the bench too. She felt naked, exposed.

  Zeynel deliberately laid his sword and staff next to Sara’s weapons and took her arm.

  Mihai shrugged and lifted a thick woven curtain from the doorway.

  Zeynel leaned into Sara as they followed the Zorcani warrior into a dark corridor. “He said they wouldn’t touch our weapons, but didn’t extend that assurance to us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mihai led them through a passage hewn out of the mountain and capped by a groined ceiling crafted with interwoven branches. Another Zorcani trailed behind. At each archway, clusters of dried pods rattled as they passed, releasing a pleasant aroma that blended with the air’s faint metallic tang. In niches on either side of the hall, crystals glowed, highlighting the rock around them in a pale radiance. Sara paused. A crystal that gives light? A disgruntled sound from the guard behind her prompted her to catch up with the others. Her feet brushed pleasantly over thick woven mats. How deep in the mountain are we? Sara fought a shudder. She’d never liked close places and the weight of the mountain above was almost tangible.

  They paused before an arched rock doorway, its capstone embedded with bits of darker rock to form a triangle with an oval stone in its center. Mihai stepped aside. “In here.”

  “A man of few words,” Sara muttered as she waited a heartbeat before trailing Zeynel into the room, every nerve alert. The enclosure was dim, lit by a large fire built in a center pit and crystals wrapped in twine, which hung from pegs around the room. Above walls lined with woven cloth, thick branches darkened by age and smoke arched to form the ceiling. Large leather satchels dangled from the thick buttresses over sleeping pallets stacked neatly against a wall. A flutter of movement caught her eye; three men blended in with the shadows toward the back of the room. Her hand itched for her sword. A single tapestry covered the back wall, framing a man and a boy sitting together on the other side of the hearth. They rose and stepped into the firelight. The man glared at them with shadowed eyes. One hand rested on the boy’s shoulder, the other clenched into a fist at his side. The boy was slight, well dressed, his gaze scouring the ground before him. Dark curly hair fell over his forehead. Sara choked a gasp when she recognized the boy was Danladi. Beside her, Zeynel tensed.