by Lexy Wolfe
Almek’s eyes widened as her words sank in. "Storm il’Thandar, would you share your memories with me, so I may know what you know, as you know it?"
Storm hesitated. Finally, she asked, "How?"
"It is an ancient technique of the Guardians. Allow me to teach you." She followed him to the fountain, sitting with him on its broad edge. Taking her hands, he reached into the pool, cupping her hands in his in the pure cold water of the fountain. "Think on those memories. Focus on them as if they were happening right now. Let the waters of time reflect the past to the present."
Almek inhaled sharply, taken aback by the vividness of the memories that exploded into his consciousness. Not only did she share the vision of her memory, but all the other senses with terrifying clarity. The smell of burning tents mingled with the smell of smoldering flesh and spilled blood. Unnatural shrieks split the air. The dinnais was obvious, its host haloed with an ugly darkness that turned the stomach.
Between it and the many Swordanzen, the Vi’disa came at them, puppeted by the dinnais. Not only had the men attacked, but the elders, women, the children also swarmed the warriors. The tribesmen fought with unnatural skill and strength. While the Swordanzen were skilled, they were vulnerable, hesitant to slaughter attackers who were victims as well. Their hesitation doomed them.
Every cut Storm received burned, but still she fought on. Once the able Vi’disa were removed, the remaining few Swordanzen advanced on the dinnais. The others fell one by one, mortally wounded. When Storm would have followed them, a Swordanzen man found some last reservoir of strength to jump between Storm and the dinnais and take her death blow. Storm subdued it finally, but not in time to save any others.
She knelt by the dying warrior whose sacrifice saved her, cradling his head. He offered a weak smile to her, reaching up to wipe away a tear. "Do not waste tears on us, my beautiful, fierce Storm," he whispered. "Better to die fighting than linger too long and die weak and decayed."
She clasped his extended hand, holding it tightly and pressing it against her heart. Blocking out all else, she focused on his touch, his scent, the pulse of his weakening heartbeat. It slowed, beat by beat, until finally there was nothing but a whisper as his soul escaped the confines of its shell. His death made all of her other injuries negligible in comparison. Her scream of loss echoed into the desert night. No one was alive to hear.
Almek cringed as her memories of having to slay infants tainted by the dennais's touch, of far too many bodies on funeral pyres. A desire to join the fallen almost overwhelmed the will to survive that was the core strength of the Desanti race.
It was several minutes after the memories faded before Almek could find his voice. "You have... suffered so much, Storm. Had I..." he swallowed. "Had I only known, I might have been able—"
"You bear no blame, Lord Almek." Storm pulled her hands from his, letting the water run back into the pool. "It is Swordanzen duty to protect Desantiva from all of its enemies, and an honor to die fulfilling our life's purpose."
He shook his head sharply, expression grim. "No, Storm. What you faced was a temporal shifter, the responsibility of Fortress. They are called darklings in the north. They are enemies to all humans, not only Desanti, and they are the responsibility of Guardians. It is also the purpose of Guardians to find the gifted and train them. Until I heard of the Vi'disa tribe's extinction, I had not truly realized we had abandoned Desantiva so completely..." He shook his head. "That is unforgivable, my dear. No words of apology can express my regret to you and your people."
At a loss, Storm was uncertain what to say. Finally, she asked, "Do the memories help you, my lord? Will their deaths not be in vain?"
"They help, but they are not enough. I need to go see the place for myself." Storm paled several shades as she tensed, prompting Almek to catch her hand to keep her from fleeing him. He could feel her trembling through their touch. "Please, Storm. Had you the training of Guardians as all of your strongly gifted should have, you would have seen the traces I need to see. But your memories are seen through untrained eyes, and no amount of training now will remedy that. Even imprisoned as you left it, a shifter can be a danger to the unaware. It needs to be dispatched for good to protect your people."
Storm was silent for a long while. "You brought students. They would be joining you?" she stated more than asked.
"Yes." His reply was simple, without inflection.
A scowl marred the young woman's features. "You count defilers and their get as your students," Storm said accusingly. "No outlanders are permitted beyond the borders of First Home. They are unwelcome." Almek said nothing. They both knew the necessity, and the uselessness of arguing over that necessity. Finally, she sighed. "I will convince the Council of Elders of the need so they can pass word to the tribes. I will secure the necessary supplies for your numbers." He released her hand as she rose.
Almek drew back startled as Storm abruptly drew the long, two-edged blade from its sheath, and held it up, studying the point briefly. In a fluid motion, she offered the blade to him, hilt first, the point pressed against the spot just beneath her sternum. Without thinking, he grabbed the hilt. "I give you my life in service to you, Lord Almek Two-Tones, until the day you need me no longer."
"Storm, you do not need to—"
"If you do not find me acceptable, kill me." Storm watched Almek knowingly as he tried either to let go of the sword or move the point away and finding himself unable to do either one. "You have to accept or reject Blood Oath, Lord Almek. The Heart of Desantiva will allow you no other choice."
"But why? I never asked you to—"
Storm regarded Almek coldly. "You brought defilers into my homeland, the sworn enemy of my people. You must accept my oath if you want both them and me to live. The Elders will have no power to deny you access to our lands if you have my oath." She paused a moment. "Nor will I kill your defiler students myself, unless you so order it."
Almek grimaced and nodded reluctantly. "Very well. I accept your Blood Oath, Storm il’Thandar." As soon as Almek had spoken the words to accept her oath, he was able move the blade away. He regarded the blade in his hand a moment before reversing it as she had and handing it back to her.
Storm slid the blade back into its sheath with a ritualistic motion and then offered a slight bow to Almek. "I will see you again within three days once I have arranged for supplies for the journey, Lord Almek. May Thandar’s wings shade you."
Chapter 24
MURELN roused from fitful sleep, blinking in disorientation as he pushed himself up. He glanced at Ash briefly, suppressing a flash of envy at the mage’s peaceful slumber. Consciously hearing the quiet sobbing that had roused him, the bard pushed himself to his feet and went into the common area of the pavilion, looking around in concern.
Seated on one of the large pillows at the main table where they shared the meals provided by their hosts, Taylin sat with her face buried in her arms, shoulders shaking. She jumped when Mureln put a hand on her shoulder. "Master Bard," she said with formality, sniffing and wiping her eyes hastily.
"Master Healer." Mureln did not smile, his eyes filled with worry for the woman. "Are you all right? You should be sleeping to recover your strength. Terrence has recovered completely thanks to your careful attention."
Taylin sniffed critically, casting a dark look over her shoulder. "I would rather be staked naked under a hornet’s nest than share the same space as that heartless woman."
Mureln's lips twitched in a slight smile. "That which does not kill us makes us stronger," he quipped, winning a half hearted chuckle and exhausted smile from the healer. He brushed her cheek with one finger lightly. "That’s better." Reaching over for cups and an ornate glass bottle, he poured water for each of them. "But I do not believe the likes of that Forentan woman could bring you to tears. You are far stronger than that." Gently pressing the cup into her hands, he looked into her eyes for a long moment. Inhaling sharply, he said in the barest of whispers, "You feel it, too. Don�
��t you?"
Taylin bristled. "Feel what? I do not know what you are talking about."
"The Desanti call it Psia Re. My people call it the ancestral agony. Born as a result of the Great War." He looked down at the stone table inset with a myriad of pieces of colored glass or stone. "All of Desanti blood feel it, including my people. No one knows what it is exactly." He sighed softly. "Just that the memory of it is the first from birth and the last at death."
"I am neither Vodani nor Desanti," Taylin pointed out after sipping the water.
"I know. That is why I am... curious." He did not meet her eyes as he spoke. "No one from the north has ever felt it in the known histories. But then," he said slowly, reaching to take one of her hands gently, studying it while his calloused thumb rubbed the back lightly. "No healers from the North have ever come to Desantiva, either. Especially not one of your caliber."
After several minutes, Taylin pulled her hand away from him, unsettled. Nervously reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, she asked, "So? What should my being a healer matter?"
"Tell me." Setting his cup aside, he pulled out his knife, contemplating it a moment. He got to his feet, walking several steps out of her reach and rested the blade in his palm. "If I would cut myself, would you feel my pain without touching me?"
"Are you crazy?! What are you doing?" Taylin asked in alarm, though not so loud as to wake anyone. "Put that thing away!" She flinched as he dragged the blade across his palm, cutting deeply.
Grimacing, he held his bloody palm upwards, looking fixedly at her. "Can you feel my pain?" He backed away from her as she tried to reach for him. "Answer me!"
"Yes, of course!" Taylin snapped at him. "Even if I close my eyes, your pain all but glows in my mind’s eye. Now stop being foolish and let me heal that, you idiot!" She snatched his hand in both of hers, closing her eyes as she willed the sliced flesh to knit. He half closed his eyes as the soothing healing energy flowed through her touch.
Capturing her hands in his, he stepped close to her, their eyes meeting. "Don’t you see? You feel the ancestral agony of Desantiva. You feel the echoes of the ancient pain from so long ago." Taylin tried to pull away, but he would not release her. "Beautiful healer, let me help you quiet the roar of pain that torments you."
Panicked, Taylin tried to pull away from the bard as he pulled her against him. Gently, but firmly, he put a hand at the back of her head and pressed his lips against her forehead. She struggled a moment more, then went still, letting him hold her. When he finally released her, he offered an apologetic smile. "It-it is... quieter," she admitted. "What did you—?"
"I touched my soul to yours just enough to mute the ancestral pain to protect you."
"You-you can do that?" Her eyes were wide. "I always thought only a healer could—"
"Making people feel things is not the only thing a master bard can do. We can blunt them, too. Music conveys our will, shares our soul with many without physical contact. But the stronger the mind, the harder it is without actual physical contact." Looking weary, Mureln went over, finishing his water. "You didn't believe it was the Psia Re tormenting you. If I told you my intentions, would you have believed me? Or allowed me to quiet the Psia Re?" He did not wait for her answer, walking unsteadily towards his sleeping area again. "You should be able to rest now, Master Healer. Even sharing space with that Forentan woman."
"Master Bard," Taylin called softly. Mureln paused with the partition half drawn back, looking over his shoulder. She hesitated a moment, then spoke shyly. "Thank you." Mureln merely smiled and disappeared behind the canvas.
Chapter 25
AFTER the twilight meal, the group had settled in to relax before heading out for the central market. Mureln, Emil and Emaris remained at the table, starting an idle game of toss stones. Amelana and Ash were in one of the sleeping areas, the journeyman insisting she needed to speak with her master privately, though the muffled noises coming from the far sleeping area had little to do with magic or any real discussion.
Left to his own devices, Terrence watched the other men and finally approached. "Excuse me," he interrupted, three sets of eyes turning to regard him. "What are you doing?"
"We be gamblin’, lad." Emil offered a toothy grin. At Terrence’s quizzical look, he clarified, "Games o’ chance where money be won or lost. Ye have those up in yer trees, don’t ye?"
Terrence considered a moment, then his eyes lit up as he understood. "Oh! I played many activities that focused on the factor of unpredictability when I was a child, but they are forbidden in the Academy as being activities beneath the principles of higher learning." Emil stared blankly at Terrence long enough to make Mureln start coughing to cover his laughter.
"He said mages aren’t allowed to gamble," the bard translated helpfully. Mureln laughed outright when Emil punched him in the arm.
"I knew that's what he said!" Looking to Terrence, Emil asked, "Ye want t’ try a game o’ toss stone? I promise I'll go easy on ye."
Terrence looked at the three six sided stones longingly. "I do not think I can. Apprentices have no money of their own." He looked towards the back and made a face. "And Master Ash would not wish to be interrupted right now."
"Oh, don’t ye worry, lad! Emaris has plenty. He’ll spot ye some money." Emaris regarded his brother with surprise and annoyance at the 'magnanimous' gesture. "C’mon, Em-boy, help th’ lad out. Ye know ye’ll win it back from me anyways." Sighing heavily, the huge man took out his pouch and got out five coins, sliding them over to Terrence who sat next to Mureln.
Terrence offered grave thanks to Emaris, lowering his eyes respectfully. Emaris grunted, but his expression softened some. The young man looked to Emil expectantly. "Okay! So, since yer only jus’ cuttin’ yer teeth on toss stones, we’ll start wi’ one o' th' easier variations." Sliding a coin out, he waved for Terrence to put one of his own with it. "Now, this game be called tri-toss. We take turns tossin’ th’ stones ‘til one of us be gettin’ three th’ same." Scooping up the small objects, he shook them in his hands, blew on them, and then gently tossed them onto the table. None of the upward faces matched. "Yer toss."
Gingerly, Terrence picked up the three stones, studying them speculatively a moment before attempting to mimic Emil’s toss, down to blowing on them. Three single dots faced upwards. Terrence looked up at Emil uncertainly as Mureln started coughing into his hand again, and the faintest of smiles touched the corners of Emaris’s mouth. "That is good, isn’t it?"
Emil blinked several times. "Well, yeah, that be a winner. So ye get t’ take th’ pot." At Terrence’s blank look, he pushed both coins to him. "Th’ pot. Th’ bet. Them be yer winnin’s." Pushing two coins out, he declared, "That be called b’ginners luck, when ye win th' first time out. It ne’er holds out."
"If beginner's luck doesn’t hold out, then why would I want to bet again?" The young Forentan was oblivious to the other two men’s growing amusement.
The skinny warrior cleared his throat. "Ah, well, ye never know when b’ginner’s luck will give out, so ye might win s’more still. An’ ye has t’ match challengin’ bets." Terrence’s coins joined Emil’s. "Good! Now, it be yer turn t’ start th’ toss—" Emil went silent as the three faces came up the same again, four dots each. "Aw, ye must be shitten me..." Emil gave Terrence a strained but encouraging smile. "Th’ lady of luck be favorin’ ye, lad."
Mureln put a hand on Terrence’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. With a soft, "Oh, okay," the young mage put a single coin out, Emil matching it. Emil’s toss was a loss. But this time, so was Terrence’s.
Emil brightened. "That's more like it. Now then! When no one wins th’ first toss, ye add more to th’ pot, and I’ll match ye, and we tosses again."
The young Forentan eagerly tossed the stones, completely unflustered as all his coins were ending up in the pot. Emil tossed first, only two of the three faces matching. Terrence pushed the last coins to the pile, and picked up the dice, rattling them in his cupped hands. "Now, since
yer out of money, we’ll figure out what ye can bet—" Emil gaped as the three faces came up, each with five dots.
Terrence looked up at Emil, concerned. "Master Emil? Does this mean I win? Master Emil?" he called several times as Emil simply stared in disbelief. He looked in puzzlement between Mureln and Emaris who began laughing so hard tears came to their eyes. Mureln could only mutely nod as he pulled the mound of coins towards Terrence for the bewildered young man.
After several more glances between the other men, Terrence solemnly separated five coins and offered them to Emaris. "I believe I owe you this, Master Emaris." Pleased, Emaris patted Terrence’s shoulder with rough affection, the Forentan wincing at the well-intended thumping.
Recovering after several minutes, Emil said, "Mureln, we gotta take this lad with us t’ the gamblin’ roosts back home. We can clean ‘em out!" Emil looked at Terrence with renewed eagerness. "Let’s see how good ye are with a more complicated game!"
Terrence glanced sideways at Mureln, who nonchalantly touched his finger to his temple and winked. Turning back to Emil, Terrence replied eagerly, "I would enjoy that very much, Master Emil, thank you."
Emil wrinkled his nose. "Master? Me? Gods, you Forentan are so uptight. Ye are an adult, ain't ye? We gotta find ye a lass who’ll curl yer toes." Terrence turned bright red, averting his eyes. "Trust me, they ain’t all like that bitch yer master keeps."
Terrence did not meet anyone’s eyes as he busily stacked his coins in front of him. "I am, ah, very happy to know that, mas-, ah, Emil, sir." He said with such fervor, all three men just chuckled, patting his shoulder with sympathy.
Chapter 26
THE pavilion was silent as the sun sank below the horizon finally. The bard and mercenaries had taken Terrence with them to explore desert gambling. Taylin had accompanied Almek to speak more with the Desanti elders. The distant sounds of celebrations drifted through the evening air.