So many of her questions remained unanswered.
The winter passed slowly. On Midwinter’s Night, Calistra orchestrated a huge feast to help raise everyone’s spirits. Another ball was held on the eve of the New Year just a week later, though this one was much smaller than Ky’ara’s birthday celebration had been. Apparently even those who had lived in Doraicolé for years had a difficult time avoiding the agitation and boredom that came with spending the winter months confined in the mountain. Joran’s sister seemed determined to keep them from succumbing to it.
Chapter 3: Leaves and Clover
It was nearly Spring again. The constant snowing had finally ceased, and the skies were beginning to clear. With luck, Calistra had said, the mountain passes would be open in a few weeks—and when they did, Ky’ara intended to leave, even though she had no idea where she would go. She sat in the library, bleakly skimming through pages and pages of the prophecy, once more searching for something she may have missed. Taren was with her this time, reading one of the books Ky’ara had brought to the table, and occasionally he made a comment or two.
Ky’ara let out a sigh of frustration, and Taren looked up. “Which passage are you worrying your head over now?” he asked lightly.
“I keep thinking this must have something to do with how to see what is in the blue book, but I can’t quite decipher what it means. This whole book makes no sense. He just keeps jumping around, and there is absolutely no flow whatsoever. One minute I’m sure he’s talking about the fall of the druids, and the next he’s rambling about some ancient store of knowledge…but I can never tell if he means ancient by his time or ours, and he’s always contradicting himself!” Ky’ara was building up more steam as she went. Her frustration had been growing all winter, and now that she had started venting, she couldn’t stop. “For instance,” she said bitterly, “he breaks off describing the end of the Great Wars and suddenly decides to put this in.” She picked up the book and held the crystal over it so the words seeped out of the pages, then read aloud.
“Knowledge obtained in light oft relates to events that have yet to occur, whereas, in a contrasting similarity, darkness only can reveal what has already passed—though in essence they are much the same. Time and place can be, in some instances, necessary to the revelation of certain truths, whereas after the initial breach a more simple method may be used. Finding truth is a treacherous road and only in the Doorways of Wisdom and the Halls of Learning can some secrets be revealed, as they will be, in time, by one who is a shadow of Light.”
“What does he mean by that? And then he goes and gives the most obvious advice, like ‘seek ye the path of the seeker’ or ‘follow the hidden paths to reach that which is hidden.’ It’s like he’s trying to tell me something, but either I’m too thick-headed to get it or he is confusing one thing with another. I’m half convinced this was written by a madman.” She set down the book and rubbed her temples wearily, “Maybe I’ll stop for today. Like you said, all I’m doing right now is worrying my head over this stuff. It’s not helping any.”
“Maybe not,” Taren said calmly, a thoughtful look on his face. He thumbed back a few pages in the book he had been perusing, and then tapped the page thoughtfully. Ky’ara leaned over his shoulder and read aloud.
“The druids were not only masters of magic, but great scholars as well. Indeed it was claimed that one could find learning in their halls and wisdom in their doorways.”
“But then…all that talk about the ‘Doorways of Wisdom’ and ‘Halls of Learning’ just meant Eléirathös!” Ky’ara exclaimed, picking up the prophecy once more. “And if I look at it that way…” she read through the passage once more, and jumped up excitedly. “We have to go to Eléirathös! That’s what it’s saying—to read what’s in the other book we have to go to the city of the druids. Taren you’re amazing!” She jumped up, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the doors.
“Hold on a moment, slow down!” He stopped her before she could drag him out into the hall. “We don’t even know where Eléirathös is anymore…the land and cities have changed too much for me to know my way around, and even if I could find where it use to be, supposedly there’s nothing left of it, remember? It was totally destroyed.”
“Leaves and clover, yes, I know. But it’s got to still be somewhere and we can find it, I know we will!” She turned to face him and grabbed his other hand, her eyes excited. “We’ll start in the fishing village you woke up in if we have to, but we’re going to hunt around for it until we get there,” she said confidently. “Don’t you realize? This is the first lead we’ve had in a long time. I finally feel like I’m getting somewhere! It’s a start!” Ky’ara stood on her tip-toes, threw her arms around him, and kissed him enthusiastically, catching him off guard. Then she turned and ran to tell the others, dragging Taren behind once more.
* * * * *
Ky’ara ran into the room, breathless, with Taren close on her heels.
“Finally, Joran! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I’ve just figured it out and—”
She stopped abruptly upon seeing who Joran was talking to. The tall, blonde-haired girl gave her a cheery wave in greeting, but Ky’ara didn’t see it—her eyes were already scanning the room, searching.
NO!
Everything seemed oddly silent and for an interminable moment all she could hear was the beating of her own heart. She stared wordlessly across the room at the white-haired healing woman who was calmly removing a snowy cloak. Ky’ara felt her hand slip from Taren’s, barely aware that it was she that had drawn it away. The old woman started to say something cross to Joran, but her voice suddenly trailed off as she caught sight of Ky’ara and Taren. The room went totally silent.
“Er…” Joran started to speak, and then thought better of it. He was confused by Ky’ara’s reaction.
“We’d better go,” he said quietly, leading the blonde girl from the room as she glanced from Taren to the healer and back, a look of comprehension dawning in her eyes.
Ky’ara stared resolutely—almost challengingly—at the old woman for another moment, and then sadly dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Well, I’ll just leave you to talk, sh-shall I,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice seeming to have deserted her. She glanced up at Taren momentarily, and then averted her eyes, ignoring his confused look and quietly leaving the room. She closed the door firmly behind her—not even the smallest particle of her had any desire to hear this conversation. When she was safely in the hallway, she broke into a run.
* * * * *
Taren was startled by Ky’ara’s sudden strange behavior. He stood at the door for a moment after she left, deliberating whether or not to go after her.
“Hello Taren.” The voice startled him (a strange occurrence in and of itself) but the softness, and the familiarity were what caught his attention. He turned slowly on the spot. Already his eyes searched for recognizable features, already his senses reached out to confirm the identity of the old woman who stood before him. He felt a sudden wrenching feeling, and a tortured sense of loss and confusion swept over him—paralyzing him on the spot and momentarily depriving him of words.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and swallowed. A moment later he tried again and this time the words came out, his voice much calmer than he felt.
“Hello Myrnai.”
* * * * *
“Wait, so you mean—she’s over five hundred years old!?” Joran exclaimed.
Lauryn nodded mutely, watching Ky’ara curiously out of the corner of her eye. The older girl was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn in to her chest, her eyes were closed and her head was leaned back against the wall. She looked like she was in pain.
Joran was still raving about the story Lauryn had just told him.
“That’s crazy! How could Myrnai possibly keep herself alive for that long?”
Lauryn shrugged. “She never would tell me all of it, but I suspect that her healing others may have somet
hing to do with it, maybe.”
“And she and Taren used to be…?” he left it hanging, giving a swift glance at Ky’ara before looking back at Lauryn for the answer.
She nodded.
“That’s not good.” Joran bit his lip, looking worried.
“Why?” Lauryn asked absently, “True, it’s kind of weird for them now that she’s old and he still looks twenty-one, but I think it’s sweet. I mean…”
“You don’t understand,” Joran interrupted quietly, shaking his head. “Haven’t you seen her?”
Lauryn looked to where Ky’ara slumped against the wall, and her eyes widened.
“Oh,” she whispered, “You mean…?”
Joran nodded.
“You’re right, that isn’t good,” Lauryn agreed quietly.
“Why did you come?” Joran asked after an awkward pause. “I mean. I’m glad you’re here, but apparently it’s not very good for Ky’ara…how did you even know how to get here? And who let you in?”
Lauryn shrugged. “Myrnai’s known about this place for a long time, and she’s had contact with quite a few of the people here, so she knew the procedure…I’m actually not really sure why she suddenly decided to come. Would’ve made more sense to wait until spring at least. We barely made it through, what with the snow and ice…but she said that you’d need us.”
Joran gave her a confused look, then shook his head and began to pace back and forth. Lauryn watched him sadly, unsure of what to say.
* * * * *
How can you be so happy one moment, and then have it all ripped away the next? Ky’ara wondered. Why does life always have to hand you something good, only to take it away and turn things rotten?
She felt strange. It wasn’t the hopeless self-pity she had felt over the summer, before she had admitted her feelings for Taren. She still knew that he loved her. The problem was, he still loved Myrnai too—of that she was certain. Things would be so much more complicated now. Her head told her that he needed space right now, to sort things out. His feelings were certainly more confused than her own. But some part of her wanted to be angry—wanted to know why, if he really loved her, that Myrnai mattered at all.
But she couldn’t dredge up enough anger to really feel mad, or at least not enough to do anything about it. Myrnai was kind, and Ky’ara liked her. The healer had saved her life. And then her sense of fairness was getting in the way. Myrnai had been waiting to see Taren again for five hundred years. She had endured more for him than Ky’ara ever had, didn’t she deserve him then?
But she’s old. This single piece of logic was the only thing in Ky’ara’s favor, but somehow she couldn’t believe that it would really matter if Taren had loved—loved, she should think in the present tense— Myrnai more than he loved her. She tried to feel angry about this, tried to hate Taren and Myrnai for it, or even to blame fate. But the anger escaped her grasp and its absence was worrying—anger would dull the pain that threatened to tear her heart in two.
* * * * *
Taren hesitated outside Ky’ara’s door. From the way she had left so suddenly, he imagined this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. He knocked gently on the door.
“Come in.” Ky’ara’s response was whispered. If it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, he probably wouldn’t have heard it.
Taren opened the door and felt his chest tighten as he took in the scene. Ky’ara sat on her bed, hugging a pillow and looking conflicted. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks were still damp with tears. He wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms and comfort her, but something in her demeanor suggested that she wasn’t ready to let him hold her just yet. Instead he stood awkwardly just inside the room, unsure what to do.
“So…” Ky’ara prompted, not looking up.
“What should I say?” Taren asked. The emotional complexity of the situation had left him feeling all wrung out. He hadn’t expected to ever see Myrnai again, let alone for Ky’ara to know her. It was no wonder he’d felt a sense of familiarity when he had tracked Ky’ara to the healer’s house last year.
“You’re the one who came here,” Ky’ara said calmly, “clearly you have something you want to talk about.”
The disconnect between her apathetic tone and the evidence of her emotional distress threw him off. He hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts.
“You knew,” he finally said, not meaning for it to sound accusatory, but it did.
“I suspected,” Ky’ara replied. She still hadn’t even looked at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would it have made a difference?” Ky’ara whispered.
“Of course it would!” Taren replied, still caught up in processing everything Myrnai had told him. If he’d known she was alive he would’ve—he would’ve what? Gone to find her? No, not until he’d at least finished training Joran…and then only so he could ask her what she knew about why Arys had sealed him, if there was more to the plan than him helping Ky’ara learn magic. Myrnai had spent the last five hundred years experiencing life while he had merely taken what seemed like a long nap. After all that time—all those memories he wasn’t a part of—she was no longer the girl he had loved. That, more than her aged appearance, was what separated them now.
He realized suddenly that Ky’ara still hadn’t responded. She still just sat there, staring at the wall, holding the pillow against her chest as though afraid her insides would spill out otherwise.
“I know it might be difficult to think about me and Myrnai—” he started to say, hoping she could understand that what was in the past was irrelevant to how he felt for her here and now.
“Stop!” she interrupted him.
“Myrnai is a part of my past…” he tried again.
“I know. You don’t have to explain,” she said softly.
“Ky’ara, I need you to understand. I didn’t ask for this to happen. I couldn’t have known she would show up here like that. I’m sorry if it took too long for me to come to talk to you, but you need to know…”
“Please don’t.” The pain in her voice cut him deeper than any sword could. “Don’t tell me till you decide for sure…till you know, without any doubts…without any regrets.”
“I will always have regrets,” Taren said, wishing he’d followed her immediately and not given her time to sink into this despair. Maybe if he was better at expressing his feelings for her she wouldn’t doubt them so easily. But it was hard to break from his upbringing and his training as a Keeper…years of societal conditioning always led him to downplay what he felt.
“Just go,” Ky’ara whispered, closing her eyes and turning on her side.
It was clear this was going nowhere. Taren left, closing the door silently behind him. He would just have to wait.
* * * * *
Ky’ara curled around the pillow, fighting tears. Taren’s words had lodged in her heart like lead. Of course Myrnai being alive made a difference. She was a part of his past and that was something Ky’ara could never compete with. He regretted trying to move on.
Her only shred of hope was that he hadn’t confirmed his choice. She hadn’t let him, knowing she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Of course, that tiny hope felt like a flimsy thread compared to the weight that seemed to settle in her chest. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and feeling herself sink deeper into her own misery.
Chapter 4: Troubled Sleep
“Something has made her vulnerable.”
“My liege?” Iregh looked up from his desk where he was mapping troop movements. He was shocked, and unnerved, to see his master standing in the doorway. He had never thought to see—well, usually he was summoned. Ordinarily the humiliation of being expected to drop everything and come when called—like a dog—got under his skin. Now, with the dark presence here in his room, he found he preferred it when his master stayed away from his personal space. He didn’t know how the nobility could possibly not suspect anything. His master was seen as somewhat reclusive, but venture
d out for social events often enough that someone should have noted the feeling of darkness that identified the Destroyer…if they weren’t all so blind. But then, he was particularly sensitive to auras. It was what had drawn the master’s attention to begin with.
He turned his attention back toward the figure in the doorway, further confused by the expression of agony that contorted those usually icy-calm features.
“We are…connected… even across the distance, I can feel her pain. The darkness…it wants her…and it senses she is vulnerable.”
“You want me to attempt to break through the rebel’s wards so that you can influence her?” Iregh tried to clarify, baffled by this new behavior. His master seemed to regain some decorum, straightening and glancing down at him with an icy glare.
“You have an opening. Don’t waste it.”
Iregh gaped as the shadowy figure walked back down the hall. Then, shaking himself into action, he went to work: pulling down spell books, setting a unidirectional ward, and preparing himself mentally to cast the spell. It probably wouldn’t work—it hadn’t in the past. The caverns the rebels hid in were just too well-protected. Centuries of protection spells had melded with the mountain’s own energy, creating a place his magic could not reach into. On top of all that, Ekzhad had confirmed that the girl wore the crystal next to her skin…that alone had proven an effective defense against his magic in the past. He sighed in frustration as he felt the impenetrable barrier with his mind. His master knew this was impossible…
* * * * *
During the next few weeks Ky’ara drowned her pain in the chaos of packing and preparing to leave. She threw herself into the planning with as much enthusiasm as she could muster—attempting to hold up the façade that she could survive this. The main pass was still closed and Calistra refused to let them leave until she was sure it was safe. For Ky’ara, the days dragged by in agony. She and Taren kept their distance from each other by unspoken mutual consent. The separation hurt, but it was much better than the alternative—every time she saw Taren or Myrnai a sharp stab of pain went through her heart. She didn’t know how, once they left, she would be able to bear the constant pain. It would be hard to avoid Taren when they were traveling together.
The Keeper's Heritage Page 4
