Her mother looked so happy, overwhelmed with tears and a sad smile. “Ranin, look at her, how big and strong she’s become. Can you believe this is our girl?” Her mother knelt and wrapped loving arms around her. They wept together in warmth and reunion.
Her father smiled proudly above her. “I always knew this is what she would become. A warrior maiden, tough as nails and brave. I’m so happy to see you again, Caeri.”
Hearing her father’s pet name for her, a name no one had ever called her since, completely broke Caerwyn. Blinded by tears, she only felt him as he, too, knelt with her and enfolded her and his wife in a bear’s embrace.
There they stayed for some time.
“We’re so sorry,” her mother said, muffled by the embrace. “No child should have to go through what you did. We both wish we could have been there for you.”
Caerwyn found her voice. She had to speak. “You did everything you could. You gave your lives and gave me time to get away. There is no more a parent could do for their child.” Then, with such a release of sorrow flowing out with her words she said, “I have missed you both so much!”
“We know and we’ve missed you too.” This from her father. “Be in no hurry to be with us here in the everlasting peace. You have a long life ahead of you. We know you can face whatever the world throws at you.”
“Thank you.”
Caerwyn didn’t know how any of this was possible but she was so very thankful for the opportunity. She recalled touching the orb… was this a dream? If so it was one she’d never dreamed before; one she’d never forget.
“You must return,” her father said, though even he took another moment before releasing her. “I am so glad we had this chance to see each other again. There is so much I want to tell you, but we must return to our place and you to yours.”
Her mother released her too and they all stood. Caerwyn still had tears blurring her vision. She smiled through the watery haze. “We’ll have a long talk someday.”
Her father smiled. “I look forward to it.”
“Goodbye Caerwyn,” her mother said and began to fade.
“Goodbye Caeri.”
“Goodbye mama, papa. I love you both!”
The fog returned to surround her, then…
She blinked, her hand pulling away reflexively.
It was as if no time had passed at all.
But she was still crying, tears in her eyes. That’s how she knew it had been real.
25
Jais knelt at the feet of Asavi. She of all the three called to him at that moment. With the loss of Alnia still fresh on his mind and in his heart, the goddess of love and passion seemed appropriate to visit first.
Caerwyn was stepping up before the statue of Berem, reaching for the broken orb in his hand.
“Please,” Jais whispered and reached out to touch the calf of the goddess depicted before him. He had more to say, but the words fled from him as soon as he touched the cold stone.
It was only cold stone for a moment, then it became warm flesh.
He looked up.
Standing before him was Alnia.
His heart raced, as did his mind. Confusion and joyful bewilderment coursed through him. Yet nothing else around him made sense. He was in a place of pure white, no walls nor roof visible.
“Alnia? You’re alive?” He shot to his feet and embraced her. She was very much warm and responsive in his arms, her arms wrapping around him tightly.
“No, Jais, I’m not.” Her voice was low, a whisper near his ear.
He released her and stood back, keeping his hands on her shoulders, looking her over. She was dressed differently than when he’d last seen her, in what seemed to be a single piece of flowing white cloth, but other than that she seemed very much real and alive.
“You’re having a vision,” she said softly by way of explanation. “And given who you were praying to I seemed a reasonable person to convey the message.”
“Message?” His mind still hadn’t settled. He couldn’t quite make sense of this, not yet. But her words and what he was seeing, the world of white, were sinking in. “Oh. So… you’re not real?”
She shrugged. “I feel real. I did die, though thankfully I cannot recall those last moments. Then I was in a place of peace, and now I’m here with you.”
“Where are we?”
“I don’t know. Were you not here to begin with?” she asked.
“No, were you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Where were you?”
“I cannot describe it. It was a place of joy and peace. That is all I know.”
“Oh.” He sighed heavily. “I can’t believe you’re gone.”
She pulled him close again. “At least we were given this and… perhaps… it was for the best.”
He pulled back a bit to see her eyes. They were calm, questioning. “How can you say that?”
She grimaced. “Jais, I gave up my life when I came to help you. I could never go back to that, and I don’t really know if I could have lived a life in the wild. Here, I am at peace.”
He felt moisture in his eyes, streams on his cheeks. He nodded. Her words made sense as much as he might not have liked it. “I’m sorry I got you involved in all this.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Jais. I got myself involved.”
He sniffed back more tears. He didn’t know what to say to her next. “I love you, Alnia.”
“And I you, Jaistheric. Alas our time grows short, and I have a message for you, or more specifically a gift.”
“A gift?”
She seemed to reach off into the whiteness, her hand vanished for a moment, and when it returned she was holding a sword. “This was your father’s.”
Jais couldn’t quite make sense of those words. Perrick had never owned a sword that Jais had seen. He had a few long hunting knives which might almost be considered small swords, but nothing like this. The blade was sheathed, the scabbard was of heavy leather with runes traced down its length, it was exquisite work, and the sword itself was even more so. The cross-guard was thick steel. The sides were traced with gold and inlaid with blue and green gems. The grip was wrapped in soft leather and well worn, nearly smooth. The pommel looked like it was made of glass, but with a living fire, flickering within it. It was beautiful.
“My father’s…?”
“Your birth father. You were taken from him as a babe to live with your aunt and uncle. He had always wanted to pass his blade down to you.”
“My father.” The words sounded strange on his tongue. A man he’d never known. A man his aunt had rarely spoken of. All he’d really known of the man was that he’d married aunt Sarelle’s sister and had been a knight. Other than that, very little had ever been said about him. He’d gotten the feeling that bringing up his parents was not easy for his aunt and uncle.
Alnia handed over the blade. Given the length and the heavy guard on it, he’d expected it to be much heavier, but it was quite light. Once again, he had no idea what to say about this. All he could think of was: “thank you.”
“I must go now, Jais. I’m sorry, I love you.” She leaned in and kissed him lightly. “Remember me, but do not pine for me. I want you to have love in your life. Do not let my memory hinder that.”
He nodded. “I love you too, and thank you.”
She smiled, her eyes gleaming, then she faded into the white around her.
He was once again kneeling on the floor next to the statue of Asavi.
With a sword lying next to him.
Caerwyn stepped back with a long release of breath. Then drew another equally long breath to try to bring herself to a place of calm. She still wasn’t sure what had happened, or perhaps more precisely, she wasn’t sure how it had happened. She was certain she’d just had a conversation with her birth parents, dead nearly thirty years now. But how that was possible was a mystery.
She touched the broken orb again, but nothing happened this time.
She
turned to Jais who was rising from where he had knelt next to the statue of Asavi. He stumbled back a few steps, then his gaze met hers.
“I just spoke to my parents,” she said softly.
He was holding a sheathed sword in his hands, which he hadn’t had before.
The two of them blinked at each other.
“I…” He seemed uncertain of his own words now. “I just spoke with Alnia. She… gave me this.” He held his hands out, the sword laid across them. “It belonged to my father.”
Caerwyn blinked again. Experiencing her own mysterious event had been baffling enough. The fact that Jais had also experienced something similar was hard to comprehend for just a moment. As much as she’d sensed something special about these statues, she hadn’t expected anything like this. And the coincidence of their ‘moments’ having happened nearly simultaneously was also a bit baffling.
“Oh,” she said, as her mind slowly caught up with his previous words. “Jais. That’s great! I’m glad you had a chance to see Alnia again.”
He smiled, though there was a sad edge to it. “Me too.” His hands fell to his sides, one still clinging to the sword. His gaze too fell to the floor. “It’s a lot to take in though.”
“Agreed.”
His eyes returned to regarding her. “You said something about your parents?”
She smiled, then almost laughed as she realized her smile probably looked a lot like his, a little sad. “Yes. I was able to speak to them, even though they’ve been dead… a long time.”
“It wasn’t a memory?”
She shook her head. “No, my memories of them are so faint. This was far too vibrant and… it’s hard to explain, but I know it was real.” She looked at his sword. “I didn’t come away with anything to prove it though, like you.”
“I’m not sure I believe it’s real.” He lifted the sword and gazed at it for a long moment. Then he took the handle with his other hand and pulled it out from its sheath just a little. The steel gleamed in the dim light of the cavern.
Something about the pommel-stone caught her eye, and she drew closer. It was a ball of glass with a flickering fire within. She’d seen depictions of that before.
“Jais,” she breathed. “That’s… I think that’s a dragon-forged blade!”
“A what?”
“At the least, that stone on the pommel. That’s dragon-glass, with an inner fire that never burns out. And the blade is glowing. I’d be willing to bet it was at least enchanted by a drahksan, if not actually created in dragon fire.”
“Oh?” He stared at it.
These were things of which he obviously knew nothing. She’d had her adopted father’s entire library to look through as a child, and her favorite books had been about dragons. She was fairly certain of her assessment.
“Trust me.”
“I will.” He returned the blade to the sheath and looked up at her again. “How were your parents?”
An aching melancholy mixed with a relieved joy mingled within her at the thought. “Well enough. They are dead after all.” She shook her head. “I must admit I never really believed in Erival, a peaceful place where people go after they die, but… maybe I was wrong. I just thought life ended and that was it. I was never one to put a lot of faith in the gods and their myths.” She shrugged. “Now…?”
“I think we have some fairly solid evidence of the power of the gods.”
She nodded. Her gaze slipping to the statue of Asavi. She stepped over to it with a whispered, “Perhaps…”
She touched the smooth stone of the goddess’s arm.
She was in a forest.
Barami nearly ran into her. He stopped himself from his jogging, coming up short and blinked. “Caer?” His face fell suddenly. “Gods! You’re dead aren’t you? I’m too late!”
She cocked her head to one side. “Why would you think that?”
“Look at you. You’re all glowing and… well…” He looked her over a bit more closely. “You’re filthy actually. You’re glowing blue and look like a shambles. I sort of figured you’d look a bit more… put together after you die.”
“Possibly. But I’m not dead, so that’s probably why I look like this. Where are you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m here. Where are you?”
She grimaced. “In a cave touching the statue of a goddess. The Goddess of…” Love, affection, passion. Perhaps she’d leave that part out. It did seem odd that she’d come to him… unless it was her affection for him which had drawn her here. He was a close friend. Her only friend. “I’m somewhere else. This is a bit confusing for me too.”
“Ah.” He looked her up and down. “You certain you’re not dead and just confused?”
“Quite certain.”
“Well then. How do I get to where you are?”
“That depends on where you are now.” She did a bit of a turn, looking around her. The sun was rising… over there, which would be east. She thought of the cave and how she’d found it. As the words came to her for how to tell him how to get to her…
She was back in the cavern.
“No!” she cried in a clipped yelp as her hand fell away from the statue. She reached for it again. “Take me back. I need to tell him where we are!”
Jais voice behind her was a little odd when it said, “Tell Barami?”
“Yes.”
“I think he knows. He’s here.”
She spun around. Barami was standing a few feet behind her not far from Jais.
“Oh!” She couldn’t think of anything better to say. “How…?”
Jais shrugged at the same time Barami did. Both of them looked as surprised as she felt.
“I have a theory though,” Jais said slowly.
26
Jais was talking, but Barami wasn’t listening. His mind was still trying to catch up with everything around him. One moment he’d been running through the forest, then Caerwyn had appeared as some blue glowing form before him, and he’d thought she was dead. Then he was here, in this carved-out cavern with Caer and Jais and three statues who looked to be having a good time.
His body tingled. It was like having some shiver running down his spine, but it was all over, pinpricks of sensation which made all his hairs stand on end.
Something caught his eye, and he looked over at Jais’ sword. Only that wasn’t Jais’ sword. This one was a masterwork of craftsmanship and detail, inlaid with gems, including a dragon-glass pommel.
“Where’d you get that?” he asked.
Only when he spoke did he realize that they — the other two — had been speaking already, and he’d interrupted.
“What? Sorry?” Jais asked.
A little sheepish Barami kept on with his question. “That sword, where’d you get it?”
Jais shrugged. “It sort of arrived the same way you did. Haven’t you been listening?”
Barami shook his head. “Sorry, no, too confused by all this. Where are we?”
Jais grimaced. “I supposed you did just arrive. Here’s the quick recap. We’re in a Festorium. It’s ancient. These are statues of the Ylsovan Gods, and I think that when you touch one it grants you a sort of boon. But it only seems to do it once.”
“Oh?”
Caerwyn laughed a little. “And you’re a boon. My boon.”
Barami smiled at that. “I am quite the boon.” His mind still hadn’t quite finished working its way around what Jais had said. “These are gods?”
“Statues of them yes.”
“And they have power?”
Jais grinned. “Why don’t you touch one and find out.”
That sounded vaguely ominous. “Which one?”
“Any one you like, though neither Caerwyn nor myself have tried Thadros over there yet.” Jais nodded to the one with the harp.
Barami wasn’t about to experiment with that. He took a tentative step forward, looking at the other two statues, the large, rotund man and the rather well-endowed woman. Both looked like they were
in the midst of having a very good time, one drinking, the other lost to rapture. He stepped toward the man. The most obvious place to touch was the extended hand with the broken glass orb. With a backward glance at his two companions, who nodded him onward, he moved in and touched the statue’s arm.
It was suddenly cold. A biting wind cut through his loose and torn clothes chilling him to the bone.
This was a boon?
He was high in some mountain range and before him was a bubbling hot spring. A little ways beyond the steaming waters was a drop-off and a fantastic view of stark, sweeping mountains. It was beautiful.
But there was an eyeful of beauty within the warm waters as well. A woman with hair like blazing fire, lounged with only her head above the waters. Her eyes were closed, and for a moment Barami wondered if she too were a statue with skin as smooth and pale as porcelain. He took a step closer, his boots swishing through long grasses.
Her eyes flew open, glancing over at him.
She moved, faster than he anticipated. She lunged out of the pool, grasping an axe from a pile of things next to the waters and rolling over the earth, coming to her feet with amazing speed and grace. She held an easy fighting stance, ready, the axe held with both hands, gaze locked on him. She didn’t seem to notice or care that she was quite naked. The cold perhaps didn’t bother her yet as her skin was still quite red, probably from the heat of the pool. She had long, strong ropy muscles, bunching and twitching in both legs and arms. She was tall, taller than Caerwyn, taller than he was, her long, brilliant-red hair was wet and clinging to her face and body where it fell. Her eyes were a clear and dazzling green.
She said something he couldn’t understand, but her tone was clear enough: accusing and cautious.
He had no weapon so he held up his hands. He tried the common tongue of the north. “Greetings.”
Soul Seeking Page 21
