Much to the delight of Runa and Amya, Nyla demonstrated her much-improved fire-Wielding abilities, creating various symbols, geometric patterns, and swirly designs with the fire without so much as one mishap. Runa shared a loaf of honey bread she'd talked Aarna out of with the girls, and then regaled them with a story about how she singlehandedly fought off a pack of nemza cats with nothing but a skinning knife and her bare hands. Nyla had heard the story many times before, and though she was certain the tale had been embellished over time, she still loved hearing it.
It also amazed—-and amused—-Nyla when she saw Runa and Amya together, for they were about as different as two Ixtrayu could be. While Runa was one of the tallest women in the tribe, Amya was one of the most petite, with nearly a foot separating the two. Runa was strong and muscular with dark, tanned skin, while Amya had a lighter complexion and was slightly plump. Runa often joked that huntresses tended to wear out their clothes faster than all others, so it was in her best interest to choose the best cloth-weaver in the tribe as her companion: for one, she would always have the finest quality of clothes to wear, and also, it would cease Amya's constant complaining about the shoddy way Runa treated her best work. Amya would just laugh and reply that only the first of those two statements was true. Then they would kiss, and Sarja would turn red and cover her eyes.
Nyla also asked Runa how certain she was that Vaxi would be all right on her own, and the huntress gave Nyla her sincerest reassurance, calling Vaxi “the best student I've ever had.” No mention was made about Kelia's journey or Susarra's dismissal.
When the four of them retired to their rooms and the girls changed into their sleep-robes, Sarja lit a series of candles that illuminated every corner of her room. Nyla and Sarja spoke again about companionship, and for the first time, it wasn't tension-filled or awkward. Seeing how Runa and Amya were together, still happily in love after so many years together made Nyla understand why Sarja was so determined to find someone that made her as happy as Amya made Runa.
Ever since Sarja first brought up the topic of companionship, Nyla had done her best to not think about it. It was just too bizarre. They were best friends. They couldn't be more like sisters if they'd had the same mother. The idea of being together was ridiculous.
But now … she was thinking about it. And the more she thought about it, the less ridiculous it seemed.
“I have an idea,” Nyla said with a smile. “Let's have a Promising ceremony.”
Sarja quirked an eyebrow. “A what?”
“A Promising ceremony. Right here, right now.”
Sarja stared deep into Nyla's eyes for several moments, then shook her head. “I've never heard of a Promising ceremony.”
Nyla feigned surprise. “You haven't? It's when two Ixtrayu promise to choose each other someday. Kind of like a pre-bonding ceremony. It's a tradition.”
“Since when?”
“Since today.”
Sarja laughed. “Can you just make up a tradition like that?”
“I'm the next Protectress. The embodiment of eight centuries of traditions. I think that entitles me to make up one or two of my own. So what do you say?”
A huge smile crept over Sarja's face. “Of course! What do I have to do?”
“Stand up.” Both girls clambered to their feet and stood in the center of the room, facing each other. “Now, we put our hands on each other's hearts.” Nyla reached over and placed her palm over Sarja's heart, and felt her friend do the same.
“Um, don't we need a witness or something?” Sarja queried.
Nyla cast a quick glance toward the ceiling. “We have Arantha as our witness.”
“Okay,” Sarja said, chuckling.
“Now, repeat after me: I …”
“I.”
“Nyla, daughter of Kelia.”
“Nyla, daughter of …” She caught herself. “Sorry. Sarja, daughter of Runa.”
“Do pledge to one day entrust my heart.”
“Do pledge to one day entrust my heart.”
“To Sarja, daughter of Runa.”
“To Nyla, daughter of Kelia.”
“In Arantha's divine presence, do we make this vow.”
“In Arantha's divine presence, do we make this vow.”
Nyla took a deep breath, and Sarja followed suit. “I guess it's official now,” Nyla said, beaming.
“Yeah, I guess it is.” She looked expectantly at Nyla. “Are we supposed to kiss or something?”
Nyla's eyes widened, and she shuffled her feet. She definitely hadn't considered that as part of her brand-new ritual. “Um …”
“Oh.” Sarja glanced down at her feet. “I made it weird again, didn't I?”
“Yeah, you did.” Nyla laughed. “How about just a big hug?” She enfolded Sarja in her arms, hugging her warmly, pressing her head against her friend's shoulder.
“Thanks, Ny,” Sarja said, returning the hug.
They faced each other again. “Time for bed, I think,” Nyla said.
“Good idea. Let's go to sleep before I say more weird stuff.”
They climbed into their respective beds. Nyla waved her hand, and all the candles in the room simultaneously went out. The only light now came from the starlight leaking in through Sarja's small bedroom window.
“I love that you can do that,” Sarja said from her darkened corner of the room, giggling.
“Sleep soundly, my Promised,” Nyla said with a giggle of her own.
“Sleep soundly.”
* * *
Nyla did not sleep soundly. In fact, she was determined not to sleep at all. There was something she had to do, and no one would stop her.
Everyone in the tribe knew that Kelia's ability to interpret Arantha's visions was inferior to Onara's. Many Ixtrayu were convinced that Arantha did, in fact, want the Sojourns to resume, and that Kelia had simply missed the signs. And now Susarra had forced Kelia's hand. Vaxi was gone, and the Sojourns, perhaps even her mother's position as Protectress, depended on whether or not Vaxi returned safely.
Nyla flashed back to the look on her mother's face outside the cave. Kelia had obviously seen something that disturbed her greatly, and she didn't want to share it. What could she have seen? Vaxi's death? Her being removed as leader? Or something worse?
Kelia had told Nyla that she was much more powerful than Kelia had been at thirteen. Nyla played that line over and over again in her mind. If her elemental abilities were really superior even to her mother's, could that not also mean her divinatory abilities would be superior too? Maybe Arantha would speak to Nyla in a clearer voice, provide her with the answers that had eluded Kelia since she became Protectress.
There was only one way to find out.
Silently shrugging the pelts off her body, Nyla climbed to her feet, listening for any changes in Sarja's breathing. She couldn't see her friend clearly, but it sounded as if she was fast asleep. Not even bothering to grab an extra robe or put on her shoes, she stole out of the bedroom and out of the house.
As it was two nights before when she caught Vaxi leaving, the village was quiet. There was barely any wind, and the only sound was the comforting babble of the River Ix as it flowed through the Plateau. Her feet made barely any noise upon the stone as she descended to ground level. She looked in all directions, seeing no movement, before running down the path, across the southern bridge, and into the cave.
Two torches affixed to the walls hung at eye level on both sides of the cave. Nyla lit them, dispelling the darkness and revealing the Stone to her. As it often was when dormant, the Stone was quite unimpressive on first sight, a dark lump of crystal.
She approached cautiously, each step deliberate, watching it for any reaction to her presence. She was only three steps away when it began to glow; faint at first, but ever more luminescent the nearer she got. By the time she reached the rocky altar supporting the Stone, the entire cave was bathed in a soft white hue.
She stared at it, waiting for a sign that her presence was unwelco
me or unwanted. None came. She watched the slow, pulsating light, feeling it permeate her body. Then she held the palms of her hands in front of her, recalling her mother's account of her first contact with the Stone, and she shuddered.
She took a deep breath, then recited the litany. “I bask in your divine presence, O Arantha, for I am your –”
“Nyla?” said a voice behind her.
Nyla turned to see Sarja standing in the entrance, looking at her with fearful eyes. “Sar? What are you doing here?”
“I followed you. I thought you might try something like this.”
“I thought you were asleep. I was sure I hadn't woken you.”
Sarja smirked. “I may not be a huntress yet, but that doesn't mean I don't know a few tricks. And besides, you're not as stealthy as you think you are.” She strode into the cave, stopping halfway between the entrance and the Stone. “Please, Ny, let's just go home.”
Nyla met her best friend's eyes. In them, she saw what she always saw: loyalty, friendship, love. “I can't, Sar. I have to do this.”
“Why?”
“Things are falling apart. Mother is going to need my help, and I can't do that the way things are right now.” She averted her gaze. “Everyone sees me as a child. Even her.”
Sarja took several more steps, pausing only a few feet away. “What if something … bad happens? What if Arantha punishes you for this?” A choked sob escaped. “We just became Promised! I can't lose you now!”
Nyla put her arms around Sarja, holding her close. She felt her friend trembling. “You have to trust me. This is the only way.”
“Are you sure?” Another sob.
“I'm sure.” They faced each other again. “I have goodness in my heart now. Arantha will protect me.” She hoped her words sounded convincing.
After a few tense moments, Sarja nodded, and released her. “Okay.”
She gestured at the Stone, its white glow unchanged. “Maybe nothing will happen at all. But if it goes bad, you can get help. Can you do that?”
Sarja nodded again. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Nyla moved to turn around, but Sarja pulled her into a sudden embrace, planting a soft, tender kiss upon her lips.
Surprised at first, Nyla just let the kiss happen, wrapping her arms around her friend. At that moment, it all became clear. All the doubts, all the awkwardness just fell away. Sarja was her closest friend, her confidant. Now, she was Nyla's Promised. And it was the right choice. There really was no one else on Elystra Nyla wanted to be keeper of her heart other than Sarja.
The all-too-brief kiss ended, and Sarja hugged her again. “I love you,” Sarja whispered in her ear.
“I love you too.” They released each other. “You may want to stand back a little.”
Sarja did as instructed, backing up until she was near the entrance again.
Nyla faced the Stone, positioning her hands a few inches from either side of it. The glow began to intensify, becoming an almost blinding whiteness.
“Arantha protect me,” Nyla said, and then her hands made contact with the Stone's glassy surface.
Intense, searing pain immediately coursed through her body. She tried to let go of the Stone, but couldn't. Her body went rigid, and her mouth opened, but she was unable to cry out.
Her mind's eye was a curtain of pure white. Gradually, the pain receded, but she was now a prisoner, locked inside a mental cage to which—-she presumed—-Arantha had the only key. She wondered if this pure, all-encompassing white would be her home for eternity, a soul drifting through the haze without shape or form.
After a few moments—-or what felt like a few moments—-blurry shapes began to emerge against the stark whiteness. As she watched, the blurs became more distinct, coalescing, focusing. An image formed. No, several images, one after another. Places she'd never been, people she'd never seen, dancing and swirling in a circular pattern through her mind.
She saw a mountain range, and within it, a dry riverbed leading to a large, serene lake. In the center of this riverbed was a woman, lying face up, her body shivering as if she was freezing to death, even though there was no snow within sight. The woman had pale skin, purple hair—-purple hair?––and strange designs of winged creatures on her arms and chest. Kneeling at her side was another person with shoulder-length, curly red hair, who was holding the shivering woman by the shoulders, shaking her frantically. The view changed, and she saw his face.
His face. It was a young man.
Before Nyla could focus on this strange pair, the image changed again. This new image was even stranger, and much, much more disturbing.
She saw a village. But it was not her village, for the structures were wooden. And they were ablaze, every single one of them. Terrified men, women and children fled through the streets, seeking escape, but a figure emerged from the surrounding darkness. A woman, with the most horrible smile on her face. She raised her hands, and lightning shot from her fingers, striking the fleeing villagers. Nyla could not blink or turn away as the helpless victims, frozen in place by the lightning, charred and blackened before falling to the ground as lifeless husks. Right behind her, a man with a short dark beard and the same terrible smile as the woman, looked on in approval.
Nyla could only look on in horror as the slaughter continued, and then the vision faded to black. She didn't hear Sarja's scream of concern, nor her footsteps as she tore out of the cave. She didn't even feel it when her body crumpled to the floor.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
E lzor sat on the edge of the bed, watching his sister's sleeping form, a vast array of emotions vying for supremacy in his mind: concern, impatience, disappointment, pride.
It was a strange dichotomy, the girl Elzaria once was and the woman she'd become. She, like so many Elystran girls, were creatures to be used, abused, and discarded. He would give anything to spare her from the memories that still haunted her to this day. In fact, he hated that he couldn't compete with those memories. No matter how strong the Stone made her, no matter how much the citizens of Agrus had come to fear her, those memories would always remind her of the frail, weak child who endured the torments that monsters like Rogin and their father inflicted on her.
He found it ironic that his grand plans required so much of her, when given the choice he would keep her as far away from them as possible. He trusted his own capacity to keep her on a short leash, to prevent her from letting her abilities overwhelm her, but he couldn't help but wonder what would happen should his plans come to fruition. Bringing three Stones together would make whoever held them all-powerful, that's what the legend said. If such all-consuming power were awarded to Elzaria, would she still feel the need to obey him, to let him rule at her side? Or would she deem him unnecessary?
A frown crinkled his face. Why does the Stone give such power to a woman who barely has the capacity to understand them, and yet I, who share the same blood, am unable to tap into that same power? Why?
He glared at his sister. As much as he loved her, he should have been the one to be granted these abilities, not her. Still, she'd done well. Without her, his tiny army would have been slaughtered like havsu. If the armies of Darad or Imar were to show up at the city gates now, the Elzorath would be overwhelmed with Elzaria in this state. Everything depended on her.
He reached out and gently slapped her face, hoping the light sting would somehow cause her to wake from her coma. He'd been doing it ever since discovering the Vandan skeleton. He needed her to wake so they could follow the Stone's trail, wherever it led, before it was too late.
To his surprise, Elzaria began to stir. A soft groan escaped her lips, and her hands instinctively moved from her sides to cover the spot where he'd struck her. Satisfied he'd finally succeeded in rousing her, he removed his gloves and used his right hand to caress his sister's cheek. At his touch, her eyes fluttered open, and she beheld his smiling face.
“Elzor?” she said, pressing her hand against his.
“I am here.”
She looked left and right, taking in her surroundings. She exhaled when she seemed to recognize the bed she'd spent the past week sleeping in. “How long have I been here?”
“Two days. The guards found you lying unconscious, right outside your door. You appeared to be sleeping. Your breathing was regular and your heartbeat was strong, but nothing we did could rouse you.”
She rubbed her cheek. “My face hurts.”
“Yes,” Elzor said without a trace of apology. “I theorized that a few sharp pains might free you from whatever was holding your mind prisoner.”
Elzaria glared at him and gestured at the pitcher of water on the night table. “I'm thirsty.”
“Understandable. You've not eaten since the meal we shared. I've come by on occasion to give you water, but I regret I've been rather busy.” He poured a mugful of water from the pitcher and handed it to her. She grasped it with both hands, raised her head and quaffed its contents.
He watched her for a few moments. Once she'd slaked her thirst, he continued. “It might interest you to know that we finally penetrated the door. As I suspected, there was no Stone to be had.”
She drained the last few drops from the mug, and then exhaled. “Morix lied. Can't say I'm surprised.”
“Indeed. However, we did find the remains of an ancient raider. With no evidence to the contrary, we are assuming the Stone lies within the borders of Vanda.”
“Your assumption is incorrect.”
His eyebrows raised. “Oh? Where might it be, then?”
“Where is my Stone?” she asked, ignoring his question. The box inside which it normally rested sat in its usual place, on the other night table. However, the box was wide open, and there was no trace of the Stone inside other than an indentation in the crushed velvet that lined it.
Elzor began rooting through the blankets that covered her. After a brief search, his hand emerged with the Stone grasped in it. “It is here. I hoped physical contact with it might speed your recovery.” He handed it to her.
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 29