by Dana Marton
I arched my body into the onslaught. For the first time in a long time, I felt pleasure instead of pain.
“Yes?” he whispered against a tortured nipple, his breath fanning my skin that was wet from his mouth.
I moaned with need. “Yes.”
He raised his head, and his obsidian gaze pinned me. “You are well enough? Are you certain?”
“I am certain.” I pulled my knees up to cradle his hips between my thighs.
He was at my opening. He held my gaze the entire time as he pushed into me slowly, gently, as if I were an untried maiden.
Pleasure washed over me. I could barely catch my breath. We were home. The war was over. We were one, joined.
I moved first, more impatient than he, and he smiled. Then he kissed me and began a mind-melting rhythm, rocking into me, taking me higher and higher.
We soared to the very heights of pleasure together.
Nothing else existed but love, warm and all-encompassing, filling the space all around us like the gentle waters of a hidden lagoon, rocking us to sleep.
The next morning, I woke to find Batumar already awake and watching me.
“How well are you healed?” were his first words instead of a morning greeting.
“All the way, my lord.” I sat up. “I am ready to rise and inspect the castle.”
In a blink, I was on my back again and Batumar over me, kissing me gently at first, and then with more and more passion. Heat flooded through me and need again. He was entering me, claiming me, and this time, he allowed his desperation to show, moving neither as gently nor as slowly as the night before. This was a thorough, warlordly claiming.
I reveled in his passion.
He would have kept me in bed all day if I had not finally pulled away—much, much later—reminding him that he had some healing waiting for him. Also, I had work to do. I had my people to see.
He did, however, talk me into not calling for a maid. He helped me dress, himself remaining naked the entire time—most distracting!—and kissing my neck and lips every chance he had.
Even when I was finally at the door, he was still trying to pull me back.
A brisk knocking had him halting his efforts at last.
He groaned with frustration, then called out, “What is it?”
“Your lady mother, my lord,” came the respectful response from a servant. “The Lady Leena has returned to the castle.”
* * *
With Leena back at the palace, the last of the shadows disappeared from Batumar’s face. My heart also lifted. In some ways, Leena was like a mother to me too.
She did not return alone but arrived with Bevon, a Femian merchant she met at the sacred springs of the goddesses. He had escorted his daughters there on a pilgrimage. There had he and Leena fallen in love, and there had he taken her for his wife, a custom among the Femians if not among the Kadar. As the Kerghi had cut off the road to Karamur, he had taken Leena back to his estate to wait out our return to the island.
In the coming days, the three of us spent a lot of time together—overseeing the repairs to the north wing of the palace—while Batumar reorganized and trained the troops, sometimes riding off to root out small pockets of Kerghi who remained on the island and tried to hide. Hartz and Atter returned, but we lost Lison and Fadden forever to the mountain. At that news, my heart broke all over again.
“You should have more ships built, Lady Tera,” Bevon said one night, the three of us—Bevon, Leena, and I—having a private dinner together. He was a portly man and boisterous, never without a smile on his face.
“How many more could we need?”
The shipwrights had been working nonstop and the Kadar fleet had been restored to its original size. Prince Graho had helped, giving advice on better and more modern design, before he sailed back home, taking with him Lord Karnagh and the Selorm.
“I talked to some of your merchants at the marketplace today,” Bevon told me. He went every day, to secure connections and promote Femian trade. “Sea trade with the mainland might resume soon. They say passage across the wild ocean is easier than ever before. The hardstorms have greatly weakened.”
The Guardian of the Scrolls told me the same thing when he came to visit the next day. He was my age, lanky in his long robe, the cut of his face severe. Despite his young age, he was a man most forbidding. Until he smiled at me. To me, he was like a brother. Having him by my side made me miss the Guardian of the Gate that much more, however.
“What think you about the weakening of the storms?” I asked him.
He was silent for a moment before saying, “I searched all the knowledge of the ancients.”
“And?”
“Nothing there.” He sounded hesitant.
“But?”
“The old Guardian of the Gate used to have a theory. He thought that when the ancients, the First People, created the Gates, they drew power from the world. This created the hardstorms.” His tone said he believed the theory not, but now that he had begun, he went on regardless. “We know that in ancient times, the ocean could be sailed. We thought the hardstorms came, and then the ancients created the Gates to be able to travel between lands without risking the wild ocean. But when the Guardian of the Gates traveled the world to learn about the Gates, he found some indication that the ancients created the Gates, and then the imbalance of power the Gates caused in the natural order created the storms.”
I held that thought in my mind, turned it around and around. “So when the Gate of the World was destroyed, its destruction restored the balance of power?”
“Something like that.” He did not sound entirely sure.
“Yet we still have some storms, because there are yet some lesser Gates in existence.”
He hesitated only another moment before saying, “It is possible.”
“Dahru no longer has a Guardian of the Gate.” Tears burned my eyes. “The young Guardian left no son behind.”
“Dahru no longer has a Gate,” the Guardian of the Scrolls said heavily. “Perhaps the spirits knew we no longer needed a Guardian of the Gate.”
We were silent for a long time, each lost in our thoughts.
So many great men killed. My grief bubbled up again. “Can kindness not survive in an unkind world?”
The Guardian folded his hands behind his back and rocked on the balls of his feet as he considered my question. Then he stilled and nodded. “I do think our world is healing.” He let that last word hang in the air for a moment before continuing, his expression suddenly lighter and brighter. “Which brings me to the reason I sought you out, my lady. Allow me to show you something.”
He led and I followed, down the hallway, then down the stairs, then down again. Up ahead, a wall had collapsed, and rocks littered the hallway. I shuddered, even though I knew the Guardian was not taking me to the ancient god’s temple. The temple no longer existed.
Two guards stood at the end of the hallway, for no discernible reason. They both bowed to me, and they bowed to the young Guardian as well, as if they knew him. They said not a word when he borrowed one of the burning torches from its wall sconce and began climbing over the rubble.
He was smiling, brimming with excitement suddenly. “Almost there, my lady.”
I was curious enough to follow him, lifting the hem of my dress and ignoring the dust and dirt the blue sateen was collecting.
Past the collapsed wall waited another corridor, one I had never before seen, a plain wooden door at the end of it, dry and cracked with age, covered in ancient cobwebs, as if it hadn’t been opened in centuries.
I paused. “Where are we?”
“When you collapsed the caves and the north wing of the palace collapsed with them, a secret chamber opened.”
I stared at him.
His smile grew to the point of childish excitement. “Remember the Forum, my lady?”
“Of course, I remember.” The Forum was at the center of the Guardians’ Forgotten City up the mountain. Its round dome
held the map of the stars.
“Remember you the scrolls of the Forum?”
“They were lost ages ago, if ever they were real and not a myth.”
The walls of the Forum were covered with honeycomb-like cubbyholes. People believed that once each held a scroll, and the myriad scrolls held all the knowledge of the ancient world.
“They are real for certain.” The Guardian smiled wider. “And they have not been lost in one of the fabled wars. They were secreted away to be saved.” He opened the door with effort, the wood scraping on stone, the doorframe shuddering.
A dark, cavernous space opened, the musty air making me shiver. Before I could ask any questions, the Guardian hurried down the middle of the space, next to a long trestle table covered with wax candles. One by one, he lit them.
Flames bloomed, illuminating the treasure before me. The secret chamber revealed was ridiculously crowded. Sagging shelves covered the walls from floor to ceiling. On these shelves, in disorderly piles, sat a treasure trove of ancient scrolls.
I stepped inside, dazed. I wondered if this might be a dream. Until the dust made me sneeze.
“How many?”
The Guardian laughed out loud. He threw his arms wide, looking from shelf to shelf. “I have not been able to count them all yet, my lady. But I believe this must be all of them.”
My heart soared. “You are the true Guardian of the Scrolls again.”
“Aye, my lady. But I am merely the guardian of the scrolls. Has it not been prophesied that you would be sent to read them?”
When I did not respond, he added, “If virtue and kindness cannot survive in this world, then we must gain new knowledge and we must make a new world.”
He was young, yet no one could say he lacked wisdom.
I nodded slowly, carefully. “That is a great task.”
“Which is why your people need you.”
As I looked away from him and back to the scrolls, for a moment I wondered if Batumar had not put him up to this conversation. “I have no wish to be queen.”
“Then be a Guardian of our island.” His tone turned solemn. “We have need of a third Guardian.”
The word “no” was on the tip of my tongue. But instead, I said, “Yes.”
His smile bloomed wide again. “I thought for certain that you would protest.”
The Tera who had gone into the mountain would have. But I had learned a great many things while I had been alone in the dark. I had listened closely to the spirits, and even closer to the whisperings of my heart.
“Our island has fallen apart,” I said.
“The whole world has fallen apart.”
“Even the ancient god could not rebuild his own temples. We cannot weld together the crumbled parts of what we once were. Only birth can triumph over death. Something new must be born.”
He smiled with luminescent pleasure. “And you wish to be the midwife. You are a healer. You healed countless broken bones and fevers, coughs and stomach aches and burns and boils. And injuries worse than that. Some say you can bring back the dead.”
I shook my head. “I lost my healing powers in the collapse.”
Yet I had learned at my mother’s knee how to bring health and balance back to a single person with little more than potions and herbs, without any great power. I wanted now—with the spirits’ help—to do that for our country, for all our people.
Epilogue
“Mother! Chalee says she will be High Lady of the Kadar someday and lead the warriors to battle,” Umar shouted from the garden gate. Judging by the look on my eldest son’s face, he thought this the highest affront.
“That is not what I said!” Chalee, only a year younger, sailed into the sprawling herb garden behind him. “I shall be a warrior queen.”
The two often tried to out-warrior each other, despite my best efforts. I consoled myself with the fact that my youngest child, Niag, showed great skill at healing. At the tender age of six, he was not allowed to use his skills on people, but injured animals were often brought to him from the city. Truly, he was already famed.
“You mean you will marry a warrior king,” Umar taunted.
“I will do no such thing. Kings are old and grim.” Chalee sent him a death glare.
“You cannot be a warrior.”
Chalee’s gaze turned truly menacing. “Father says I can be whatever I want to be.” She looked at me for support. “Mother led an army.”
At this, Umar grew uncertain. He thought, then thought some more before finally saying, “You are better with the arrow than I, but I am better with the sword.” He thought again, then his face brightened with the pleasure of a solution found. “You can be my general.”
This did not appease his sister. “You can be my general!”
Leena hurried in behind them. “Are they still at it? They got away from me in the kitchens. I was trying to teach them the history of all the proper dishes for our main feast days.”
“An octopus could not keep these two in hand,” I said with a sigh. The children did have a minder, but most of the time, Leena dismissed the girl to watch her grandchildren herself. “Where is Niag?”
“He should be right behind me. Found a sick bird on the path. He has the tiger with him.”
“If you need rest, they can all help me here. I just finished a class on battlefield healing. The apprentices are gone to brew their potions and their tinctures.”
Chalee poked at the feverfew I was clipping and remained unimpressed. “Can we go watch the warriors in battle training?”
I sighed. Both Chalee and Umar were too adventurous by far. Then again, they had me for a mother and Batumar for a father.
“How about I take you to the Forgotten City, and you can help me translate some scrolls?”
The thousands of scrolls found in the ruins of Karamur’s castle were back in their rightful place in the honeycomb walls of the Forum. I both translated and taught them. All I had ever wanted was to become a healer of true power, but I had somehow become a teacher and librarian. And it felt right. I felt in my true place with my students.
Umar and Chalee, however, groaned in unison at the prospect of visiting the scrolls. Neither of them was inclined to scholarly work.
“You could read us the scroll you wrote about sailing the hardstorms.” This from Umar. Half the time he wanted to be a High Lord, the other half an admiral.
“Mother!” Niag burst into the garden at full run. “Marga is going to have cubs again. A girl and a boy.”
“Can I have a battle tiger?” Chalee and Umar cried out at exactly the same time.
“Are you Selorm, then?” Batumar’s voice boomed from the garden gate.
“Can you make me a Selorm?” Umar asked him, at an age when children still thought their parents could do anything.
“I already made you perfect,” Batumar said, obviously not given to modesty. “And what did your mother tell you to be?” he asked in a stricter tone.
“Aww…” Then two sheepish “Peacemakers.”
“I want to be a peacemaker!” Niag jumped into my arms. “A peacemaker and a healer. I think Grandmother Leena’s feet ache.”
“No,” I said at once, before he got it into his head to soften her bones. “I will see to it. I have the perfect poultice, already prepared.” At his crestfallen expression, I added, “I heard from one of the guards that we have a manyinga with a bellyache in the stables.”
Niag’s face brightened. He was wiggling back down to the ground. “Oh, Mother, may I? Please?”
“You may. But if there is any trouble, you send for me.”
“Yes, Mother!” He paused. “And after, can I go see Beco?”
Beco was Onra’s youngest, the same age as Niag. The boys played together every day.
“All right. Tell Mistress Onra that I will be by at the bakery to visit her later.”
“Thank you, Mother! I will be careful with the manyinga. I promise.” He ran as if chased by the Kerghi horde, and his sibling
s were right behind him. No child would miss a chance to be around the giant beasts. They found the manyinga endlessly fascinating. Niag liked to pretend that he was talking to them, while Chalee and Umar liked to pretend that they were riding the beasts to battle.
“Do not forget to be back for your lessons!” I called after them.
“Mo-ther,” they groaned in unison and stopped to see if I might yet lift that sentence.
I raised an eyebrow at my children. “Why do we have lessons?”
Niag responded. “To build a better world, we must become better people.”
“And how do we become better people?” I asked, fixing the other two with a pointed motherly look.
“We learn,” they mumbled.
When I nodded, they took off again.
Leena went after them.
“And your foot?” I called.
“It is nothing. It can wait.”
In but a moment, Batumar and I were alone in the walled garden. The scent of hundreds of herbs sweetened the air, a dindin tree offering shade, the summer breeze perfect.
The warlord took my hand and pulled me to him. “A Shahala delegation arrived.”
“All is well?”
“Better than well, my lady. They wish to honor you at the feast. They are granting you the title Tika Shahala.”
My heart leapt. My mother had held that title, the most respected title among my people. My eyes suddenly swam with tears. “But I lost my healing powers.”
“They say you are the greatest healer that ever lived. You healed our island and our people.” He paused. “I have more good news,” he said before he kissed me.
I could barely remember to ask “What?” by the time I was released.
“Word arrived from Lord Karnagh. He plans to visit us in the spring with his lady and the children. He might sail with King Graho and his queen.”
“In the spring?”
He watched me. “Had you other plans? Wish you to take a trip of our own?”
“Not in the spring,” I told him with a smile. “A young baby is not fit for a long journey.”