by David Wind
Mikaal and Neleh listened, fascinated. Mikaal, tied so closely to Areenna, on so many levels, sensed both her anguish and disgust and pushed himself to her, giving her a soothing warmth from his mind in the same way he would hold her to him and soothe her physically.
A moment later, Areenna took a deep breath. “I learned how the Dark Ones...The Masters, live as long as they do. They…” She swallowed back the coppery bitterness of bile rising in her throat. “They take the energy, the life force of whoever they want and bring it into themselves. It is how they survive.”
“And you now have this ability?” Neleh asked.
Areenna looked at Neleh, and then at Mikaal. “Yes, as does Mikaal. We...we have all the abilities that were once held by the Staff. We have both the light and the dark, the good and the bad.”
Neleh’s brows furrowed, her pale eyes reflected moonlight as she looked from Areenna to Mikaal. “My mother told me everyone, you, myself, even she, have both light and dark within us and it is up to each of us, as to which we accept and which we shun. She explained that it is a choice we must make; a choice not all can make for themselves. For some, whichever is the stronger within them...the good or the bad, pushes them to their decision.”
She paused to gaze at Areenna. “But, she said, for us...for Women of Power , the choice is always ours. And it is our responsibility to help those who cannot help themselves, not to punish or harm, but to guide.”
“Your mother is wise.” Areenna wondered if she could do such when the time came. She turned to Mikaal. “We can never use these powers.”
“What if there is no choice?” Mikaal asked. “What if we need them to defeat the Dark Ones?”
Areenna smiled at Mikaal. “As Neleh has just said, there is always choice. Not in who we are—not any longer, nor in what we have been fated to do, but in how the doing is accomplished. I know you understand this as well as I. All we need do is to remember our lessons when we first went to the Island. Remember your anger, and what happened; remember mine but days ago.”
He shook his head. “I remember. Tell me then, how do we use this new knowledge against them?”
“That I know not; yet, I think Jalil does.” How else has he lived so long?
The anger within her thought hit him hard. Jalil? You think he does this?
I know not what to think.
Then we hold judgment until we know, Mikaal advised.
<><><>
Enaid sat on a chair near the bed where Jalil lay in a bedchamber within the royal keep. Midnight approached, and for the past two hours, she had been doing her best to sense Areenna and Mikaal, but found their block so solidly in place that she could not.
Sirod was next to Enaid. In the ten hours since Jalil had exchanged energy with Sirod, his body had visibly deteriorated and Enaid saw his life ending, while Sirod grew stronger. That the sickness growing within Sirod’s breast was no longer there was obvious by both her appearance, and by Enaid’s own powerful senses.
While she considered everything that had happened earlier, a light but familiar mind touch reached her and she turned toward the window to see Gaalrie floating outside. She went to the window and opened it. Gaalrie flew in and landed on Enaid’s outstretched arm.
A moment later, she turned to Jalil and Sirod. “They will be here soon.” With that, she sent the treygone back to Areenna.
<><><>
The first thing Areenna did when she arrived at the keep was to go into her father’s arms. The second, with Mikaal and Neleh in tow, was to face Jalil. Even with Mikaal’s advice for her to not judge before she knew, her anger grew hotter.
The instant they stepped into the chamber where Jalil lay, Areenna’s anger fled. “What happened?” she asked, her eyes jumping from Jalil to Enaid and then Sirod. As she stared at Sirod, she noticed the aura that had surrounded the Woman of the Village since Areenna had first found her beneath the snowfall, was different. It was no longer dull; rather, her pale yellow haze aura sparkled. If she needed further evidence of change, it came when Neleh ran into her mother’s arms.
“You’re healed,” she cried aloud.
After holding Neleh to her for a long moment, Sirod separated them and gazed into her daughter’s eyes. “Not healed, but better, for now.”
Areenna looked at Jalil and saw the changes in him. Deep cracks of radiating lines channeled his face; a filmy glaze coated his eyes. He took Sirod’s tumor into himself, Enaid said to her.
Areenna looked at Enaid, but could not think of what to say. She went to the side of his bed, where she knelt and took his hand. “Why?” she asked aloud.
Jalil’s mouth etched a faint smile. Such was necessary. Sirod was dying. If she dies now, Neleh would have to stay with The People. Neleh is too important, as are their people—more so than I.
We need you!
No, you need Mikaal and Neleh. The three of you must be together to face The Masters. Without such happening…
We know how The Masters live as long as they do. I— She cut off the thought quickly.
Jalil shook his head slowly. Your anger is...deep. Think you I have continued to use the life force of others to maintain my life? You think wrong. It is the very reason for my injury when Ailish and I escaped them at the Island. It was the reason I encased Ailish and myself within the crystal, because I had stopped using the energy of others when I discovered the truth of my ancestors.
You were prepared to die? Mikaal asked.
The moment I stopped taking life force. He sighed softly; his smile grew a bit wider. I am unimportant. What is, is for the two of you to go forward.
Areenna stared at him. I don’t understand. Go forward...how?
Buried deep beneath the Island is the source of power that protects Nevaeh. This is the true objective of The Masters...it always has been. To control not just Nevaeh, but what lies below. You must return to the Island. Not to The Eight, another place, he told them and brought up a mind picture of the area. There, you need go deep below, where you must find the way to protect the powers from The Masters. This is what protects Nevaeh and gives powers to those who can draw from it. You will need to use this against The Masters. Those combined with what you have discovered within the three of you, may yet save Nevaeh, but it will be hard.
He took a shuddering breath, followed by a wracking cough. When he was able to breathe normally, he went on, Use care with what you find. If used the wrong way, the eight sorceresses will die. If The Eight die, Nevaeh will follow, for The Masters will take all and rule the world. Every being, ghazi or Nevaen, will be forever the slaves of The Masters.
When he fell silent, Areenna reached out and took his hand. How do we find this power? What is it?
Jalil looked at her. He squeezed her hand with what little strength he had left. You will know. Then he looked up at Mikaal. “I must speak with Roth before I—”
“You cannot travel,” Enaid interjected from behind Mikaal.
“I must speak with Roth,” he repeated.
Enaid nodded. “I will get him a message.”
<><><>
Queen Enna sat before the fountain in the central courtyard of Tolemac, the early morning sun over her left shoulder. She’d found sleep difficult, and awakened early, concerned about a discovery she had made. Ever since arriving in Tolemac, she had sensed a darkness hovering about, but had been unable to find it. Yesterday, it had grown stronger, as did her suspicion of a spy of the Dark Ones, but when she tracked the sense of evil, it disappeared.
The gentle cry of a traimore floated down to Enna. Looking up, she saw the bird circling above and raised her arm. The bird dropped and perched lightly on the older queen’s arm.
She removed the message, read it, and with a sharp indrawn breath, sent the traimore aloft. She rose and returned to the keep, going directly to the small hall where they took their meals.
She found Roth, Ecorah, and Darb seated at the table, eating and talking, and went directly to Roth and handed him Enaid’s messag
e.
He read it, and then looked at Ecorah and Darb. “I am needed in Freemorn. Darb, will you oversee the training?” At Darb’s nod, he turned to Ecorah. “Will you sit in my stead until I return?”
“Go.”
An hour later, with Noslen at his side and the rest of the Six in formation, they rode out of the Western Gate and pushed their kraals into a mile-eating canter.
<><><>
The thundering of the hooves of the seven kraals resounded through the training grounds, where the Women of Power gathered to learn all they could of using their abilities in battle from the more experienced women. One of the women turned to watch the riders lope past.
Her eyes locked on Roth and, sensing the urgency emanating from the riders, she wondered where he was going, and why. Next to her, Anin, a young woman of moderate abilities, also watched the passing riders.
Sighing, the woman smiled at the other. “My man, Leumas, rides with King Roth.”
“They seem in a hurry. I hope it is nothing serious.”
Anin shook her head. “I know not, only that he was summoned just as I was leaving to come here. They ride to Freemorn.”
A moment later, Queen Enna, standing in the center of the training area, called the women to her. Anin smiled at the other woman, turned and walked toward Brumwall’s queen. The other woman stayed where she was for a moment, looking at a tall gazebow tree twenty yards distant. Closing her eyes, she pushed a message to the black feathered dangelore hidden deep within the gazebow’s thick branches.
Then, as the woman turned and started toward the gathered women, the dangelore rose from the tree and turned southeast, toward Llawnroc, carrying word of Roth’s sudden departure to Freemorn.
CHAPTER 21
AN HOUR AFTER dawn, on the day after Enaid’s message reached Tolemac, Roth and the Six slowed their tiring kraals just outside of Freemorn’s capital. As they rode through the outer training fields surrounding the walls of Caymir, Roth saw a strange sight—perhaps the strangest of all since arriving in Nevaeh, twenty-five years before.
Standing on a platform was Rasco, Elder of The People. A hundred men of The People stood in a long line before him. Each held a long leather strap; each faced a target set a hundred feet way. The targets were posts hammered into the ground with large succulents set atop.
Each of the small men of the Village, in turn, stepped forward, swung the strange weapon over his head several times, and released its contents. A heartbeat later, the succulent shattered, its pulp exploding outward.
Roth knew his mouth hung open, and he could do nothing about it. Never in his lifetime, had he seen such a weapon in use. He’d known about it since he’d been a little boy, and seen many illustrations of it. The illustration at the Naval Air and Space Academy in Annapolis was clearest in his memory.
The moment he recognized the weapon, he knew exactly who The People had been historically, and where they’d come from. “How can they do that with such accuracy?” Noslen asked, jarring Roth from his thoughts.
Roth, a broad smile on his face, said, “One day, when we have the time, I will tell you a story about this weapon, and of how with it, one man defeated an entire army.”
Noslen looked at his king for several seconds before saying, “And I will not forget to remind you of this promise.”
Roth nodded and without another word, urged his exhausted mount toward the gate.
<><><>
Enaid turned from the bed and walked to the door. “Roth has arrived. I will get him.” Wake him gently, she told the others.
Mikaal sat on one side of Jalil’s bed, Areenna on the other, with Neleh and Sirod next to her. Bending close to Jalil, with a hand on the dying Master’s shoulder, Mikaal said, “Jalil, Roth is here.” When there was no response, he bent closer and pushed his senses to Jalil. His first fear, that Jalil was past hearing, eased as he gently prodded the Master awake.
I live, fear not, Mikaal, I but conserve energy.
Roth is here, he told Jalil.
I am aware.
“Help me sit,” Jalil whispered.
Areenna leaned forward to help Mikaal raise Jalil’s frail body to a sitting position while Sirod placed pillows behind him.
“This will be the last we talk...in this lifetime,” Jalil told Areenna and Mikaal. “No,” he added as a drift of Areenna’s sadness touched him. “Sadness in unnecessary, I welcome what comes, for I have lived far too long. I know you will finish what I have started, the two of you, and Neleh,” he added, turning his head just enough to see the woman-child, and the tear that dropped to her cheek. He turned back to Mikaal. “Remember one thing above all others: allow no Dark Master to survive, such is foremost.”
Mikaal took Jalil’s hand in his. Across from him, Areenna did the same. “We will do our best.”
“The Eight of the Island will not willingly help with what you must do next. Not because they become your enemy, but for fear of what will happen should you not succeed, underground. You must be the one to make The Eight understand and accept the risk.”
“If they refuse?”
“They must not. In truth, it is simple. Either The Eight accept, or Nevaeh perishes. You are to convince them that whatever you do, will be with their welfare in mind. And Areenna, Mikaal, there is a truth that must be adhered to: Nevaeh needs the power you seek, and The Eight of the Island must continue to live; for both are necessary for Nevaeh’s survival.”
Jalil paused, looked at the door, and said, “Roth and Enaid come… Know you four, having met you has made everything I have done since arriving in Nevaeh, worthwhile.” He turned to Sirod his eyes locking with hers. “I ask that you follow the customs of your people for burial and the tradition after.”
Sirod nodded. “Of course.”
“Thank you. Sirod, As-Salaam-Alaikum.”
Sirod stood, bent to Jalil, and kissed his forehead. When she straightened, she said, “Aleichem Shalom,” and followed the other three from the room just as Roth and Enaid entered.
<><><>
Roth stood two steps inside the chamber, locked in place by the echoing of Jalil’s words. He barely saw the four walk past him, and once they were gone, he broke free of his trance, and walked to the bed. Anger had exploded the instant he’d heard Jalil speak in Arabic.
Just as he reached the side of the old Master’s bed, he became aware of Enaid’s hand on his arm, and his anger eased, but only slightly. He shook his head and looked down at Jalil. “What game is this you play?”
Jalil looked at Roth, his expression puzzled. “I understand not what you mean.”
“You —”
“—wait, Roth,” he said, and then looked at Enaid. “I must be alone with Roth,” he told Enaid.
She stared at him, her eyes locked fiercely on the old Master. “Why?”
It is important, Enaid, what I say is for his ears only. Lose not your trust in me as I leave this life. Above all, Enaid, you must protect and train Neleh. She is as important to Nevaeh’s survival as are Areenna and Mikaal.
Enaid let her senses range over him and, a moment later, nodded her head. “I will be outside if you need me, My Lord,” she addressed Roth, emphasizing the Lord so he understood exactly what she meant when she’d said she would be ready should he need her.
When the door closed behind her, Jalil looked at Roth, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. “You are angry… It is with me?”
“With you...perhaps with Sirod.”
“I understand not what bothers you.”
Roth exhaled loudly and then sat on the chair closest to Jalil. “When I arrived here, I saw a weapon being used by the people from the Frozen Mountains, a weapon no person of Nevaeh has ever used...or for that matter ever seen. I heard you speak to Sirod in Arabic, and you wonder why I’m angry? Who are you? Why are you?”
“Who I am, you know, why I am is because of what happened shortly after you went into space.”
“Are you going to talk in riddles until you die
?” Roth snapped.
“Solomon,” Jalil said, his voice lower, weaker as he gasped for a breath. When the spasm passed, he shook his head. “You have been named for a great king, a great man. Step away from your anger and use the wisdom of that Solomon for a moment. Recall what Sirod said in response.”
Roth started to shake his head, and then paused. He thought back to when he’d entered the room and heard Jalil speak in Arabic. His anger had flared at that moment. Now, as he thought about it, he recalled Sirod responding and… “How is that possible? I understand you speak Arabic, but Sirod…”
“Only two of The People know Sirod’s language, and mine. This knowledge, handed down from father to son, mother to daughter, is to keep the language and traditions alive, as they have done for eight thousand years. Once, Sirod’s people were known as ‘The Chosen’. Now they’re simply ‘The People’. They know not their full history, for the wisest of them, the ones who brought them from their homeland, before those lands were destroyed, made certain there would be no vestiges of their past, other than the handing down of a few traditions and the language. They were a blended group, mixed of three religions, not just one. There was no passing down of religion, for their ancestors—their mystics and prophets who had looked to the future—knew that if they were to survive, there could be no schism among The People. Instead, they passed down through the generations, the need for goodness and for understanding of all people they meet, and to uphold the traditions that bind The People.”
Jalil stopped for a breath. “It took these leaders decades to bring their people to this part of the world, where they hid until the Circle of Afzal forgot they existed. Even then, three thousand years ago, there were those who had the gift of foreseeing, and knew it would take millennia for this to happen.”
“If the Circle forgot, how did you learn of them?”
“When Ailish and I escaped The Masters, she brought me to the Frozen Mountains. They were not as they are today, but still, they were harsh and almost impenetrable. Somehow, she found a way, and then we found The People. The Woman of the Village...Sirod’s direct ancestor, told us of their history, and of their knowledge that we, Ailish and I, would arrive.”