The Watchers in Exile

by Barbara V. Evers

  “You won’t believe this!” Joannu dropped several fish on the ground by the fire. “She could hear the fish under the water. It’s a crime how easy it was.”

  Elayne laughed, her eyes dancing with a delight Adana had never seen from this woman. “I never tried to listen for fish before. If I’d only known as a child, I could have—” She bit her lip and became preoccupied with cleaning the fish.

  Adana met Montee’s cautious look. What secrets lay behind that half-sentence? She needed to trust Elayne if she wanted to use her abilities. Like it or not, she had to take the chance.

  After Joannu and Elayne cleaned and cooked the fish, the four sat around the fire. They ate in quiet, devouring their first meal since the night before. The meat fell into juicy morsels in Adana’s mouth. She paused and licked tiny bits from her fingers. “I’m licking my fingers, Elayne,” she said, laughter shaking her shoulders.

  The woman paused, her thumb thrust in her own mouth. Eyes widening, she yanked out the offending thumb. “I’m sorry, m’lady. I didn’t mean to forget my table manners.”

  Joannu’s laughter trilled around them. “Elayne, the best meat sticks to your fingers. Every Watcher knows that.”

  The woman glanced between the three Watchers, a look of confusion on her face.

  “Forgive me, Elayne,” Adana said. “I meant to say I’m starting to feel like me, not the dressed-up figure Quilla forced me to become while in Elwar.”

  Still, the woman stared at her, a wrinkle on her forehead. “So, it’s not a bad thing to lick your fingers?”

  “Of course not.” Joannu giggled. “We’re not as prim in Moniah. Looks like putting on that uniform has rubbed off on you. I saw your thumb in your mouth.”

  “And that’s a good thing?” Still the woman looked doubtful.

  The usually stoic Watchers answered her in unison. “Yes.”

  Adana leaned toward Elayne. “Some of my best memories are of training expeditions into the wilderness. No one saw me as a princess or royalty. I was just a Watcher in training. I had no idea how wonderful it was at the time, to sit around the fire with my sisters, enjoy a simple meal, stare into the flames, and watch the stars above. It’s home.”

  She leaned back on the grass and licked each finger, making loud sucking noises.

  Joannu flung herself backward and followed suit.

  Elayne shook her head. “I don’t understand. What manners should I ignore?”

  “Don’t mind them,” Montee said. “In Moniah’s court, you will be fine. Watcher trainees may relax and forget the rules of rank at the end of a tough, but successful, day. Not all of them come from noble upbringing, so many don’t know proper behavior, anyway. These two seem to have forgotten they aren’t trainees.” At that point, Montee stretched her arms above her head and fell backward onto the grass, too.

  Adana laughed, and Joannu broke into a fit of giggles. Elayne only followed suit after Joannu jumped up and tickled her. “Come on. Don’t you know it’s bad manners not to misbehave if the queen allows it?”

  Adana listened to the others talk and laugh for a few moments, but her thoughts soon returned to her problems. She rose and left Joannu and Elayne pointing out various stars and making up silly stories about each constellation. By the stream, she rinsed her hands. She couldn’t wait any longer for Sinti and Veana. When she returned, she stood over the three women. “Joannu, I would like you to take Elayne and scout this village.”

  Both women sat up, and Joannu nodded, exchanging a quick smile with Elayne. Was this an indication that Joannu found the woman trustworthy? Joannu maintained an amiable relationship with most of the Watchers. Was this her way or did she see more?

  Still conflicted about this uninvited member of her group, Adana sat back down by the fire and assumed a tone of command. “Whatever you do, don’t enter the village. I don’t want to alert anyone to our presence. Yet. Report back to me on everything.”

  Satisfied the two understood her needs, Adana stretched her legs toward the fire and leaned back on her hands.

  The image from Am’brosia hit her suddenly. A courtyard with a large funeral pyre swam in her vision.

  Adana jerked forward, her gaze turned to the west.

  “What is it?” Montee spun toward the giraffes.

  Without looking behind her, Adana knew the two giraffes had descended the hill and approached her in a solemn, single file.

  “Oh!” Elayne jumped as Am’brosia’s head bobbed down next to Adana’s. Both giraffes stood behind Adana, forming a protective arch over her.

  Montee turned to Adana. “What are they showing you, Your Majesty?”

  Adana’s hand groped for and found Montee’s, her grip hard. “Papa’s funeral.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 7

  Kiffen stood in the courtyard with the rest of the keep’s inhabitants, awaiting Regent King Micah’s funeral. He had practiced the bond the way Kassa told him to throughout the day, but those connections felt like tiny glimpses into Adana’s world compared to the clarity flooding through the connection now. He recognized Adana’s grief as it overwhelmed him. Was the emotion only hers or did the giraffes add their sorrow for the lost regent king? His chest ached with sorrow, and tears pricked his eyes. His or hers? He didn’t know. He yearned to stand with Adana, his arms holding her close, her soft hair tickling his chin, her grieving heart next to his.

  Quiet reigned over the mourners in the keep as ten Watchers and ten Soldiers of the First Sight carried Micah’s body strapped to a pallet into the courtyard. Ahead of them walked four Watchers including Kassa and Samantha. Each of the four carried a torch, providing the only light to the gathering.

  Samantha was positioned between her mother and another Watcher, her unbound hair gleaming like silk in the firelight. Briefly, Kiffen felt drawn to the bounce of dark curls flowing over her shoulders. He took a step closer and then Bai’dish reared his head in the link, and Kiffen felt the connection snap. He turned his gaze away from Samantha, forced by an unseen pressure, gentle but firm, on his cheek as the connection returned. The giraffe pushed him to look toward the funeral pyre.

  The procession stopped in front of the high, wooden platform. Two ladders leaned against the front and provided access to the raised stand. A Teacher of the Faith waited to receive Micah’s body on this platform, but the torches didn’t cast the light high enough for the teacher to be seen yet.

  Kassa and Samantha stepped away from the other Watchers and approached the platform. They ascended the ladders. Four Soldiers of the First Sight followed them, two climbing to the midway point, and two stationed a few rungs above the ground.

  When Kassa and Samantha reached the top rungs, they held their torches aloft and touched them to a trough along the front of the platform. Liquid fire raced around the edges of the stand, illuminating the Teacher of the Faith standing in the center. He stood motionless, his hands folded at his waist, while flames billowed from the troughs.

  The mourners in the courtyard stepped back from the radiant heat, and Kiffen held his hand above his eyes to shield them from the glare. The blazing element, glimmer fire, burned hotter and brighter than any other fuel within the kingdoms. Its secret was closely guarded by Moniah. The same substance, when woven into cloth, became iridescent and fireproof, creating the coveted glimmer cloth his stepmother and sister loved so much. These two items represented a large portion of Moniah’s wealth.

  The First Soldiers carrying Regent King Micah’s pallet droned a low note as they passed the board holding King Micah’s body to the soldiers near the base of the ladders. The soldier on the left ladder supported the head of the board while the soldier on the right supported the foot.

  The wordless drone sung by the soldiers rose in pitch and volume as the first set of soldiers passed the body upward to the next two. The pitch shifted higher as the second set of soldiers received the body.

  The unearthly song permeated the courtyard with an element of eeriness as it echoed off the
stone walls and shrouded the mourners in its tone. For some reason, Kiffen found it comforting.

  When the regent king’s body was passed upward to Kassa and Samantha, the Watchers in the crowd combined their higher voices with the soldiers’ requiem, vocalizing a note two octaves higher than the men.

  Icy tendrils raced down Kiffen’s arms as the dirge hung in the air and blanketed the crowd like a haunting spirit. He glanced upward, expecting to see a haze or gathering fog. Instead, stars twinkled in the clear, night sky.

  Kassa and Samantha carried the pallet to the Teacher of the Faith. The song rose to a crescendo as the three turned the pallet upright, so King Micah’s body faced the crowd. A fire-conjured wind lifted the regent king’s cape like a flag. It snapped in the breeze, its loud cracking adding an odd tempo to the song of mourning. The cape flirted with the fire as the teacher raised his hands and clapped them together, the sound deafening as it echoed throughout the courtyard.

  At once, the song ended.

  An expectant silence hovered over the gathered mourners. The crackle of glimmer fire and the snap of Micah’s cape the only sounds in the night.

  Kiffen held his breath and stared into the intense heat on the platform. Would the Creator demand three more lives? As far as he knew, no one on the stand had ever burned with the departed loved one, but Kassa’s, Samantha’s, and the teacher’s proximity to the fire and the dance of the regent king’s cape made him uneasy. How could they stand being so close to the heat? None of them flinched.

  He should have stood on his father’s pyre. Could he have shown such immobile devotion?

  No one touched him, but arms embraced his shoulders. Within the bond, his sight shifted inward. Adana smiled at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. She nodded once and mouthed the word yes.

  Amazement over Adana’s ability to know and respond to his thoughts caused Kiffen to lose focus. When the teacher spoke, Kiffen concentrated hard on the bond so he could continue to share the scene with Adana. She wouldn’t hear the words, but she would see and experience Kiffen’s responses.

  “Micah, Regent King of Moniah, cast your eyes one more time on this land.” The teacher’s voice rang throughout the night. With Samantha’s and Kassa’s assistance, the three turned the body to face each compass direction.

  “Look west, where the waters flow,” said Samantha.

  “Look north, where your strongest allies live,” said the Teacher of the Faith.

  “Look east, where your origins lie,” said Samantha.

  “Look south, where your heart and soul have thrived,” said Kassa. “Look south to home and hearth and land.”

  The mourners turned in each direction as Micah received his last look at the land and Moniah.

  Kassa and Samantha laid the pallet against a stand beside the teacher, then bowed low before the body. Heads still bowed, they backed toward the ladders and descended.

  Once they reached the ground, the teacher pushed a wooden lever beside the stand and lowered the body to a reclining position. He raised his hands to the night sky. “Creator, receive this servant in peace and charity. Bestow his wisdom and great knowledge on his daughter, Adana, Queen of Moniah.”

  Kiffen felt a shock and thrill wash over him at the pronouncement of Adana’s title. How much had been his reaction, and how much hers, as she watched through his eyes the last moments of her father’s earthly body?

  The teacher bowed three times before King Micah, then backed away, descending the ladder in the same posture used by Kassa and Samantha. On the ground, he stepped below the platform and pulled a large handle, the strain of the task evident in the bulge of his neck muscles, glistening in the bright light of the fire. Glimmer fire flowed from the torches atop the pyre and raced into channels surrounding the regent’s body. As the two channels of fire converged, the flames roared across the funeral pyre, engulfing Micah’s body.

  A devastating surge of loss rose through the link, and Kiffen fought to keep his stance under the rush of so much grief. He closed his eyes for a moment and sent the image of him standing with Adana in his arms, bathing the thought in a promise to help her destroy Maligon.

  A spark surged back toward him, fired with a force of will he’d only witnessed when Adana tangled with his stepmother. It flared for just a moment, then subsided in exhausted grief.

  When he opened his eyes, the teacher stood in front of the flaming pyre, arms raised to the sky. “Go in peace,” he shouted over the fire’s roar.

  “Go in peace,” the crowd intoned.

  Heat swarmed the courtyard, and the inferno blazed into the night sky. Despite the discomfort, the people drew closer to the platform, sweat intermingling with the tears pouring down their faces. Each person remained, tethered to the cobblestone yard, until the wood cracked and crashed in upon itself.

  Then, the gathered people turned and silently departed, except for Kiffen. He stood under the night sky, watching the flames burn down until no one else remained. When he felt Adana’s mind retreat in the link, he turned and walked inside.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 8

  Montee sat in silent contemplation until the giraffes lifted their long necks from their protective position over Adana and returned to their guard posts at the top of the hill. The funeral must have ended, but Adana’s gaze remained distant, staring deep into the fire.

  Elayne and Joannu stood by the fire, mesmerized by the stillness of Adana.

  Montee turned toward them. “You should follow the queen’s orders and go to the village. Report back to us by dawn.”

  The two women, one a true and valued Watcher, the other a questionable ally, walked off into the darkness. Montee sat down by the fire and waited.

  As the night descended into the darkest hours, the valley’s nocturnal creatures woke, rustling in the grass. An occasional hoot of an owl echoed through the valley. Peace reigned in this secluded vale, and Montee offered a plea to the Creator to shower this peace on Adana’s grieving heart.

  Complying with the decree established by Queen Chiora for her death, Adana hadn’t stood by the funeral pyre of her mother. The young queen had never witnessed the ritual.

  Unbidden, Montee felt again the overwhelming heat of Queen Chiora’s pyre three years earlier. She’d stood on the pyre that night, and even in the chill of this evening three years later, she still felt the sweat trickling down her face, the fire searing her soul, stamping her with the truth of her own destiny.

  “Kassa and Samantha are at the Border Keep.”

  Montee looked up in response to Adana’s quiet words. She looked peaceful, not troubled. Sometimes, the finality of the event helped those left behind, gave them a way to move forward. The relief Montee felt over her queen’s composure caused her to take longer to absorb the words Adana had spoken. Samantha and Kassa being at the keep meant things were worse than expected.

  Montee leaned forward. “You saw them? You are positive?”

  Adana sighed and stretched her arms out before her.

  “They delivered Papa to the Corners of the Land.” Her voice sounded subdued, exhaustion radiating in her words. “When did you last see Samantha?”

  “Before the attack.”

  As one of the honor guard, Samantha should have sought out Adana during the attack on their camp. After they cleared the battle scene, Montee had sent the other two members of the guard, Veana and Sinti, to scout a larger area rather than coming directly to this valley. If they had found no problems, they should reach the camp soon. She had hoped Samantha would find and join them.

  “Could you pick up anything from your connection? Any clue as to why she’s not following us?”

  “No. Nothing. The link wavered at times. It felt difficult for Kiffen to maintain.” Adana paused, a distant look returning to her face. “There was a point of pure clarity when they brought out Father’s body. Kiffen looked right at Samantha. She looked so beautiful. I’ve never seen her look that way before with her hair curling down over her sh
oulders. Then the connection collapsed. When it returned, Kiffen was looking at the platform.”

  Montee swallowed. Samantha was not beautiful. Harsh like her mother, few ever looked on her with adoration. Did Adana know how emotions could alter sight through the link? Unsure of how to respond and confused as to why Kiffen would see a lovely woman rather than a soldier, Montee said nothing.

  “Where are Joannu and Elayne?” A look of uncertainty crossed Adana’s young face as she glanced around the fire.

  “I sent them to the village.”

  “Good.” A small smile. “I believe we will be joined by Sinti and Veana soon. And if I see correctly through Am’brosia’s eyes, Glume is with them.”

  Montee considered this last piece of information, not surprised that the giraffe keeper sought to catch up to his four-legged charges. The man might be portly, but nothing stood between him and his duties to the royal giraffes of Moniah.

  Adana’s eyelids drooped low, and Montee heard her take deep, restoring breaths. With the ebb and flow of each breath, her body showed signs of the releasing tension, and Adana regained her regal bearing.

  Moments later, a more alert woman raised her eyelids and nailed Montee with a royal gaze. She sat straighter, and color returned to her face. “Queens don’t have the luxury of proper mourning, do they?” Adana stretched her legs out in front of her and grasped her toes, arching her back like a trail cat. She sat upright again, and attentiveness shone in her blue eyes. “I believe you have information to share with me?”

  Montee stood and circled the fire, extending her senses to the edge of the basin. Am’brosia and Bai’dish stood at the top of the hill in the center of the dell, alert and solid against the quiet night. Although she was not a Listener, Montee strained to hear anything beyond the hoot of an owl or the breeze in the trees. Nothing human lurked within her hearing. Satisfied no one eavesdropped, she returned and sat beside Adana.