by Lexy Wolfe
"I was so looking forward to being able to introduce you to my first child, but..." Kiya closed her eyes, looking away. "He did not survive. Nor did my season mate." A tear escaped her eye, making a trail down her dust covered cheek. "So few outside of the na'Citali tribe are brave enough to take a Su'alin as a mate. I fear that I shall never bear a child."
Nyla tsked. It is not like you to give into despair so easily. Your son and season mate will be reborn and until then, there will be other men you can—
"You do not understand!" Kiya shifted to lean against the spire, eyes shut tight as she held her hand palm outward. Nyla put her palm to Kiya's, her expression one of worry. "I know it is my duty to bear children. And I want to have them. But I do not want a mate who looks on me with fear, and that is how those outside the na'Citali look at us spiritwalkers. And my blood is too close to others in my tribe to seek a mate within." She sighed heavily. "Sometimes I wish I were like Rengi and not cursed with the Su'alin gift."
I wish I could say I am sorry, but if you were not a spiritwalker, I would have no one to speak to. No one would even know I was here. It would be terribly lonely, not having your company when your tribe passes this way.
Kiya looked up, tilting her head. "Why do you not allow other Su'alin to see you? Why only me?"
I am A'tyrna Ulan, Nyla replied.
A small smile touched the corners of Kiya's lips. "I did not think that meant 'more stubborn than an old drizar' in the old dialects." She giggled when the spirit stuck her tongue out at her. "You have never answered that question for me, and I have known you all my life. Why me?"
Nyla shrugged one shoulder, sitting cross-legged across from Kiya who mirrored her posture. You are not the first I have chosen to speak with. You will not be the last. But I choose. Her expression displayed fierce defiance, then shifted to sad reassurance. I used to watch you and your brothers Radisen and Rengi when you were children playing near me. You were so young to have the Su'alin gift! And you had such carefree joy in life. I wished that you would never know that joy to end. When your mother died, I had never sensed such despair except from my Grandfather. Or guilt as there was from Radisen.
Kiya sighed, looking down. "The accident wasn't Radisen's fault. It wasn’t anyone's fault." Squaring her shoulders, she stated, "But if it had not happened, he would not have found his true path." Nyla tilted her head to the side, her expression quizzical. "They say he is now Skyfire il'Kailee, Githalin Swordanzen."
Nyla looked delighted, clapping her hands. Githalin Swordanzen? That is wonderful! You must bring him to see me. Her smile faded when Kiya covered her face with both hands, her voice trembling with a sound of despair. He is not dead. I know he is not dead. The other spirits who keep me company tell me about when those I care about die and when they are reborn. I care about your brother as I care about you.
"I cannot bring him because he is gone, Nyla. Both living Githalin left Desantiva with the Dusvet Guardian and his outlander students many moons ago." She looked up when Nyla surged to her feet, the air whipping around.
She left Desantiva? Nyla looked up, fists clenched. Why did you not tell me totani'nasi left! Why would she leave Desantiva when—?! The whipping winds suddenly stopped.
Kiya got to her feet, watching Nyla's rage drain away in shock. "What is wrong?"
The prophesy, Nyla whispered to those Kiya could not hear but sensed the presence of. The prophesy may finally be fulfilled? Nyla covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Nodding, she murmured, I understand. Yes. I will tell her. She looked to Kiya, staring at her unspeaking, her eyes filled with hope and sadness.
"Nyla? Nyla, what is wrong? Why—?" Kiya gasped when another spirit appeared, his hand resting on Nyla's shoulder. His hair was raven black, eyes azure blue, and skin pale. When the young Su'alin raised her hands in preparation to attack him, Nyla held up her hands, darting between the pair. Kiya, no! He does not attack me! His touch teaches him how he can make himself seen by you. He is an outlander soul and very far from his own.
"An... outlander soul?" Kiya stared at the strange spirit with narrowed eyes, then gasped. "He is a defiler! You allow a defiler to touch you, Nyla? How could you?"
Kiya, Nyla admonished gently. The Great War was a very long time ago, and not everyone from the northlands are all alike, just as Desanti are not all alike. If I can find forgiveness for the descendants of those who made this necessary, she stated, waving to the pillar of reddish stone, then you should be able to do no less. He can be trusted. Nyla and the spirit traded knowing, put upon looks as Kiya hmphed and crossed her arms, looking away.
What is wrong is that I know after today, I may not see you for many, many seasons, and I will miss you. Nyla looked over her other shoulder, nodding in understanding. Take this message to the Alanis Su'alin: the Githalin must return home. Only then will the last of Desantiva's open wounds be able to be closed and the A'tyrna Ulan freed from our vigil.
Kiya gasped. "'Freed'? You mean, your soul might no longer be imprisoned and can finally be reborn?"
The wind gusted briefly as Nyla's emotions flared. I told you before. I choose my own fate, as do all the A'tyrna Ulan. The flash of temper subsided and Nyla added, I choose to remain here. But when the Githalin returns and the land is healed, I will be free to make a new choice. She looked to the silent man standing behind her, his hand still on her shoulder. This one will serve as guide in the outlands. Nyla regarded Kiya, her gentle smile almost maternal. And you, my friend, must seek out the star-warrior.
"The star-warrior? The star-warriors and star-mystics have been whispered about as myths! One exists?" Nyla nodded to the question. "I will do so, my friend. I promise not to fail." Kiya put her hand on the rock spire. "You should stay calm. Your temper has exhausted you."
My temper is what keeps me focused. But you are right. I tire and must rest. Be well, my friend. Nyla kissed Kiya's cheek, then stepped back into the spire, returning to her dormant state. Kiya looked to the stranger, holding out her hand to him. She shivered as he rested his hand atop hers. "Forgive me," she murmured. "I had never touched an outlander spirit. Your energy is not like that of Desanti, or even Vodani. What shall I call you?"
The man smiled, kindness in his azure blue eyes. I am known by many in this life as Bennu Avarian. But I would be honored if you would call me Grandfather.
Chapter 4
The barge navigated the wide river to settle by Surthan's dock. Valerian stepped off the gangway tilted his head back to look up at buildings taller than in most Sevmanan towns. He casually reached up to hold the cloak's hood in place. The cowl kept the mark on his cheek hidden from those around him, allowing him to enjoy the peaceful moment of anonymity. Shouldering his bag, he looked until he saw a young man nearby who seemed unoccupied. Valerian tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me. Can you tell me if the Zeridian temple is still on Grey Hill?"
The young man jumped and spun around, his eyes wild with panic. "Master Dervil sent me out! Honest! I'm allowed to be— Oh." Turning brilliant red, he coughed and looked down. "I-I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."
"Obviously," Valerian replied in droll tones. He noted the symbol sewn over the young man's heart. "Ah, you are a journeyman healer? Excellent." He smiled as the young man looked up sharply. The Vodani Guardian watched the young man's expression change when he saw the metallic mark on his cheek that denoted his status as the Timeless One's mortal servant.
He waited as the young man went through the usual series of reactions most normals had when they realized they were speaking to a Guardian of Time. To his credit, the young man maintained his composure quite well once the surprise passed. "Would you be able to give me directions to the Zeridian temple?"
"Oh, I can do better than that! I was heading back anyway." The young man stuck out his hand in greeting. "Journeyman Tobias Zeridius."
"Fortuitous for me." Taking the offered hand firmly, the Vodani replied in kind. "Unsvet Guardian Valerian." Til
ting his head to one side, he looked impressed. "Zeridius, huh? Part of the founding family of the temple?" He moved to the young man's side as he began to head into the crowd.
"Yeah, I guess," Tobias replied with an utter lack of enthusiasm. "Though really, everyone who becomes a healer of the temple gets the last name Zeridius. It's not that special." He glanced sideways at Valerian. "What brings you to Serthan? Is there trouble? Someone is hurt? Is that why you want to go to the healing temple?" The young man sounded almost hopeful.
Valerian arched an eyebrow at the other. "No, no trouble. I am just passing through on my way to Ithesra. I was hoping I could talk a master healer into traveling with me."
The brief disappointment evaporated into wistful longing. "Ithesra? Oh, you are so lucky to be able to travel!" Tobias sighed longingly. "They don't let me out of the temple much at all. I've never been outside of Surthan in my life. I only really know the streets because I would sneak maps and memorize them, imagining what it all looks like out here."
As they walked along, Valerian said after several minutes, "That is unfortunate. It is fascinating, seeing other places. Not that serving your temple is not a wonderful thing." Glancing sideways, he wondered, "But being you are a journeyman healer, shouldn't you be journeying to gain real world experience?"
"Oh, I'm journeyman by skill. But they consider me too young to go out on my own and Father, I mean Grand Master Arman, doesn't send masters out to wander anymore. So there is no one to escort me. I suppose everyone is young to a Guardian of Time, aren't they?" He puffed his chest with pride. "I've seen fifteen summers."
"Fifteen is young by anyone's standards," Valerian pointed out blandly.
Tobias made a musing sound. "Well, true. But! Most don't make journeyman until they are twenty or older. Usually older. They think I am too naïve to be left alone and maybe I am. But I can't be anything else but naïve since they don't even want me leaving the temple grounds to begin with. So," he added on a sigh, "I will have to wait to make master until I can go without anyone yanking my chain like I'm a puppy. That's what Taylin had to do. And Master Arman still tried to get her to stay. But it was rather difficult to argue that her healing duties at the temple were more important than the Dusvet Guardian's request."
Valerian looked bemused at the young man's babbling. "You know Master Taylin?"
"Know her? Of course! Everyone knows her. She has been the best and strongest healer for a really long time! Some say Zeridus himself blessed her! Because she can do things like heal old wounds when no one else can." Tobias tugged at an errant strand of hair. "My dream is to be as good and strong as she is."
The two approached the temple, pausing to look up the long stairs that led to the main entrance. "I am certain if you have the same dedication to your art as Master Taylin, you will achieve your goals," Valerian assured. Studying Tobias's profile a moment, the Unsvet puzzled over his apparent nervousness. Sudden understanding dawned. "I can go on alone from here so you can get back to where you need to be. Is there anyone I should ask for when I get there?"
Tobias looked at Valerian, both surprised and grateful. "Grand Master Arman. You would have to convince him to give his blessing to any master to leave the temple. Otherwise, no one will go with, not even because you are a Guardian." Tobias started to hurry away to sneak in a back gate. Turning back, he asked uncertainly, "Would you be willing to tell me about your adventures sometime, Unsvet Guardian Valerian?"
"Just call me Valerian," the Vodani man replied with a small smile. "I do not plan on lingering in Surthan for long this visit. But perhaps our paths will cross again in the future. Only time will tell, and She likes to keep Her secrets."
Disappointment briefly dampened Tobias's enthusiasm before he smiled brightly again. "Never know! Take care, Un-Valerian." He hurried off and disappeared around a corner.
Amused, Valerian turned and began the long climb up the stairs. He started catching up to a young woman limping ahead of him. When she stumbled, he hurried to her side to help her up. "Are you all right?" He frowned as he looked over her, noting her sickly pallor and her trembling as she drew away. When she turned her face towards him, his frowned deepened at the ugly bruising on her face and the swelling around her eye. She did not, however, raise her gaze higher than his chest.
"I-I am fine," she whispered, lowering her eyes. He frowned at her submissive demeanor. "I just… need to… I just need to get to the healers. Then it will all be fine again."
"…Again?" Without a second thought, he picked the slight woman up in his arms and resumed the climb. "Someone did this to you," he stated, keeping his eyes forward. He pressed his lips together when she hid her face against his chest, shaking with fear, her head making a negating motion after some hesitation.
"It-it isn't Chak's fault," the woman whispered. "He just… drinks too much sometimes and gets mad and… I should know not to make him mad." Valerian hushed her as he crested the stairs and strode towards the great doors. The sunlight glinted off the mark on his cheek as the cowl of his travel cloak slipped back. The guards at the door stared for a heartbeat before jumping to open the doors as he approached.
An older woman bearing a master's sigil pendant around her neck hurried to the two, her expression creased with worry. "Oh, Ana, not again," she lamented. "Unsvet, please follow me." Ana looked up and met the eyes of her benefactor. She fainted from shock. Valerian tightened his arms around her. When they reached a small, private room, he laid her on the low couch as gently as he could.
The Unsvet stood nearby, watching the healer as she rested her hands on the unconscious woman's brow and chest over her heart. The wounds faded and disappeared. Ana relaxed as the pain eased. Once done, the healer sighed, remaining by her side, stroking her hair. "Thank you, Unsvet. If she had been much longer, I would have been unable to heal her."
"If you know this happened, why did you not simply go to her?" Valerian asked, his disapproval apparent.
The healer sighed as she turned away to get a blanket from a cabinet. "The Grand Master Healer dictates that we remain on the temple grounds except upon his approval. And only then with adequate escort. Otherwise, those who are in need of healing must come to us." She draped the blanket over the sleeping girl. "Ana lives and works at a tavern near the docks. Sometimes, she cannot get permission to leave to seek healing until it is too late. You have heard of my daughter Taylin? The master healer Dusvet Guardian Almek spirited away from us?" Valerian nodded when she glanced over her shoulder at him. Caressing Ana's hair, she said, "It was people like Ana that inspired Taylin. She simply refused to accept that anyone had to suffer because too much time had passed and somehow found a way to heal them despite the passage of time."
"This lack of help because someone cannot get to this temple in time or at all happens often?" Valerian's dark scowl forced the healer to avert her eyes. "That borders on being criminal. Why does the temple allow this?"
Turning pale eyes up to meet Valerian's, the infinite shame and sadness in their depths startled him. "Because we are forbidden," she stated. "Arman changed the old traditions decades ago because we healers… we are too vulnerable beyond our walls. Depending on the severity of injuries or ravages of illness, it can be nearly fatal to a healer. As it is, we are often left weak. After several of our healers were abducted and later found tortured to death, Arman… was angered that no one had tried to protect them. He felt that as much as we healers gave, those we served owed us at least the courtesy of protection.
"Since then, he believes that if the need is great enough, supplicants can either come to us, or provide adequate protection for a journeyman or master to go to them." Her expression was disapproving. "As time has passed, his definition for 'adequate' has gotten prohibitive to any but our region's king, perhaps one of the richer noble houses. I have tried to convince him to relax his demands, but he is unwavering."
Forcing himself to relax and suppress directing his anger towards this healer, Valerian observed, "You do not
agree with your grand master."
She shook her head. "I do not. Healers could most assuredly protect themselves, if we taught them the necessary skills. But such skills are terrifying, especially when those beyond our temple learn of them,. We heard rumors that because someone learned of these abilities, they attacked the healers. He was certain they were the reason that someone preyed upon us. So Arman forbade their practice and denies their very existence. All because, in his eyes, we who worked to keep others from suffering were abandoned to suffer."
"What are these forbidden arts?"
She waved Valerian to join her by the window that looked out into a wide courtyard below, keeping her voice hushed. "We call it the art of sensory manipulation. It had always been controversial. Most assume the ability to quell pain is part of the gift of healing, and Arman encourages that mistaken knowledge."
"Healing is a painful process." Valerian closed his eyes against the memories. "I was fortunate to have encountered a healer during one of my journeys. However, at the time, I would have rathered death than to endure being healed."
She smiled faintly. "Indeed. Our sect perfected sensory manipulation. Pleasure, pain, numbing both. All of it. Until Arman forbade all but blunting pain from being taught." She hesitated. "There was a side effect of being able to manipulate senses. We can also sense what others do. Taylin was gifted… or cursed… to be able to sense others' pain. Taylin grew up with Arman's edicts. Since he prohibited the soothing of pain without healing their accompanying injuries, she found a way to heal regardless of the passage of time. She also would sneak off the grounds to seek out those suffering like Ana."
"Pain, pleasure, and other sensations. I imagine it is disconcerting to many to discover someone can make them feel anything." Watching the activity below, Valerian spotted Tobias hurrying across the yard and being stopped by an older man. Tobias stood before him, his eyes averted but shoulders unbowed, as the man scolded him. The Guardian frowned when the older man grabbed Tobias by the ear and hauled him after him. "What has that young man done to be treated so callously?"