Moving closer to the rock, Runa shifted along its edge until she could peer around to the other side. Laenadara was there, standing with her back to Runa and talking to an older man. The man was similarly robed with long, brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard.
“You don’t think they’ll listen, do you,” the man said. “Despite the old stories and their sacrifices during the Demon War.”
“It’s been thousands of years since they concerned themselves with our affairs,” Laenadara said. “I think it’s dangerous to assume they’ll feel obliged to help. What if they come and decide to give in to their bestial nature? What would we do then? Appeal to their kindness? No, we must be ready.”
The man shifted his weight, looking uncertain. “What guidance has Aya given?”
“She promised their submission.”
“Are you sure it’s worth the risk?” the man asked. “The words are Velanian. The cost could be —”
“I’ll do what I must,” Laenadara said, cutting him off.
The man looked like he might argue, and then he nodded, stroking his fingers over his beard. “It’s fortunate we learned of the girls’ existence,” he said.
“Aya is all-knowing.”
“If Egan had not come to us …” Laenadara and the man began to walk away, their words too quiet to overhear.
Runa frowned as she watched them leave and moved back from the boulder. It sounded like the Ayanarans were not as confident in the Old Ones’ willingness to help as Laenadara had implied. How exactly could their Mother Tree promise the dragons’ submission? And what was Velanian? Runa had never heard of it before.
It’s powerful blood magic, Elenora said inside her head. An adaptation of Celestial, or bastardization of it depending on your sentiments.
Runa blinked. “Blood magic? I would not have expected that from the Ayanarans,” she said, thinking of what little she knew of their axioms.
You’re calling dragons, Elenora said, her tone crisp and impatient. That’s not a simple thing.
“And Celestial? What’s that?”
Elenora sighed. Your mother should be ashamed of your education. It’s a language for magic. What, you thought everyone uses dragon runes? Even those who are not of the bloodline?
Runa flushed; Elenora’s scorn like thorns against her skin. She longed to ask more, but anger was rolling red-hot through her. Her nails scraped across her palms as she tightened her hands into fists. “I need to speak with Lyric,” she said.
When Runa returned to the room she shared with her sister, she found Teaeth and Sashala loitering outside. They nodded as she passed, apparently left on guard duty by Eleden.
Lyric and Kell were inside reclining on the cushions in each others’ arms. Their heads were bent close, Lyric murmuring something as Kell shook his head.
Runa cleared her throat, smiling thinly when they glanced up at her, startled. “I overheard Laenadara talking with another priest,” Runa said.
Lyric shifted against Kell’s chest. “What did you hear?” she asked.
“She’s not as confident in the Old Ones’ help as she implied,” Runa said. She picked a cushion and plopped down onto it, shoving her skirt out of the way.
“She thinks it’ll fail?” Kell asked with alarm.
“No,” Runa said, “she said the Mother Tree would ensure their submission.”
“Their submission?” Lyric asked. She raised both eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
Runa shrugged. “The Mother Tree was created by Ethethera … maybe it’s more powerful than the Old Ones?”
Lyric tipped her head back to look into Kell’s face.
He was frowning, his eyes dark and troubled. “In theory, I suppose,” Kell said reluctantly. “There aren’t many stories about the Mother Tree beyond what happened at the end of the Demon War.”
“What happened?” Lyric asked.
“The Tree sacrificed a branch, not a physical one, but a connection to whatever realm Velaine conceived her demons. At least that’s the story they taught at the Radiant Hall.”
“To trap her there after the Demon War?” Runa asked. She frowned, thinking of the fallen god, Velaine.
Kell nodded.
“Then perhaps the Mother Tree is powerful enough,” Lyric said.
“There’s something else,” Runa said. “The priest said the ritual is in Velanian.”
“Velanian, as in …” Lyric began.
Kell swore, nearly dumping Lyric over as he bolted upright. “The demon language!” he said. He twisted, gripping Lyric’s arms. “Don’t do the ritual, Lyric!”
“Kell, I already told you —”
“They’re going to do blood magic,” Runa said, drawing Lyric’s eyes. “That’s what Velanian is.”
Lyric opened her mouth then closed it. She chewed distractedly on her lip, pushing off Kell’s chest to sit up.
Runa opened her mouth, but Lyric held up a hand. She tilted her head to the side, listening. After a moment, Lyric looked back at her, her green eyes refocusing.
“It’s not inherently evil,” Lyric said, “that’s what Gandara says. It’s dangerous, taxing on your body, but with Velaine gone from the world, the risk is different. The demigod can’t possess you or exact a price beyond energy loss, exhaustion, and whatever blood is required for the spell. At least that’s what Gandara has heard. She never used Velanian herself when she was alive.”
Kell groaned and slammed his fist into the pillows. “Do you hear yourself, Ly?” he asked, growling out her name. “Whatever blood is required?”
Lyric’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I didn’t say it wasn’t dangerous, but what part of this whole situation isn’t? We’re not the ones performing the ritual. We’re not taking on the same danger as Laenadara is, but if the burden were mine and mine alone, I’d still willingly offer myself to save our family, to save you, to save Erith. This doesn’t change anything!” Her jaw set stubbornly, and she shifted her heated stare to Runa. “Right?”
Runa shook her head, feeling uneasy. “It does, Ly. Laenadara is withholding information. What else isn’t she telling us?”
Lyric scowled, then doubt crept into her eyes, and she nodded. “It is troubling, but if she’s taking the danger on herself —”
“Is she?” Kell asked. “I’ve read about Velanian, Ly. It’s unpredictable, chaotic. It was created by Velaine! I tried to find a practitioner once to remove my tattoo.” He touched his throat.
“You did?” Lyric asked, eyes wide.
“He couldn’t do it, he wasn’t strong enough, but there was something wrong with him. He looked ... damaged.”
“We should confront her,” Runa said. “If Laenadara continues to lie, we’ll know we can’t trust her. She may be limiting what she tells us because she sees us as children, or—”
“Her reasons for the ritual are not what she claims,” Lyric said.
Runa stood up and brushed off her skirt. Walking to the door, she stuck her head through the vines and found a young Ayanaran woman talking to Teaeth.
“Can you fetch the High Priestess?” Runa asked. “We’d like to speak with her.”
The girl nodded, her cheeks flushing and dashed off into the trees.
“Finally,” Sashala said. “She’s been out here flirting with Teaeth. I don’t think his head can get any bigger.”
Teaeth rolled his eyes, grinning.
Lips quirking, Runa ducked back inside. Lyric and Kell were whispering to each other again, so she sat down by the door and looked at her hands, focusing on a scratch across her knuckles.
When Laenadara arrived, she looked relaxed and happy, her eyes untroubled. “Ashlain told me you’d like to speak with me,” she said, voice bright. “We’ve been preparing for tonight.”
“Yes,” Runa said, “we have a few questions.”
“Yes?”
“The ritual is in Velanian,” Runa said. “Isn’t that dangerous magic?”
Laenadara’s brow twitched, and she laced her ha
nds together. “It can be,” she said, “but with Velaine bound and gone, unable to touch our world, the risk is just a physical one. I’ll shield you as much as I’m able. My fellow priests and I will perform the ritual on your behalf. The price will be mine.”
“You’re wondering how we found out,” Runa said, watching Laenadara’s face.
“I did not want to burden you with worrying about our safety.”
Runa snorted, but by the look on Lyric’s face, her sister seemed receptive to Laenadara’s explanation.
“There’s no need to shield us from the truth,” Lyric said. “We want to know the risks.”
“I overheard you,” Runa said, watching the High Priestess’ face.
“Oh?” Laenadara’s eyebrow twitched, a tiny flicker of movement.
“You’re not certain the Old Ones will listen.”
“We do have our concerns,” Laenadara said patiently. Her face looked serene; immune to Runa’s attempt to get under her skin. “Though the ritual itself is on our shoulders, it is you and Lyric who will speak with the Old Ones. Regrettably, we don’t have time to prepare you for such a meeting properly. The dragons may be cautious considering your youth. I didn’t want to overwhelm you, so I thought it best if I kept our worries private. I apologize.”
“You’re concerned they won’t listen because we’re young?” Runa asked skeptically. That hadn’t been what she’d thought Laenadara and the male priest were discussing.
“It’s a possibility,” Laenadara said. “The Old Ones may be confused about how you summoned them, given your age, but we’ll be close by and offer our support. I hope you haven’t changed your mind about participating in the ritual. We cannot do it without you, and we must do it tonight.”
Runa glanced at her sister. The High Priestess actually seemed sincere. It wouldn’t be the first time someone older had thought to shield them. Still, something felt wrong.
Lyric looked at Kell, who was scowling, his eyes focused on Laenadara’s face.
“What if you speak to Aya,” Laenadara said. “Perhaps She can put your mind at ease.”
Surprise flashed across all their faces.
“I thought she only speaks to you?” Runa said.
“I think She’d wish to assure you. She can show you why the ritual is urgent. Share Her visions. Would that ease your minds?”
Lyric blinked, curiosity drawing the doubt from her face. “Yes, yes, that would help.”
Curious, but still suspicious, Runa gave a sharp nod. Why hadn’t Laenadara suggested this before? Though she had doubts about the High Priestess, surely they could trust the echo of a god?
Laenadara beamed. “Wonderful. If you permit it, I’ll have dinner brought to you and baths prepared. You, of course, can give your final decision after you’ve communed with the Mother, but we will prepare everything, so we are ready to begin the ritual.”
“All right,” Lyric said. “Is there anything we need to learn? Something we need to do or say during the ritual?”
“If we do it,” Runa said under her breath.
“You will not need to speak during the spell,” Laenadara said. “Your challenge will be to remain open and to accept the power as it moves through you.”
“Have you tried the ritual before?” Runa asked.
Laenadara’s eyes snapped back to hers. “What?” the High Priestess asked. She blinked, seeming confused. “No, we have not.”
Runa stared at her, uncertain if she was lying. She couldn’t read Laenadara, but the priestess actually seemed confused by her question, as if it was something she’d never considered.
Laenadara looked at Kell and frowned. “I’m not sure you should be present tonight,” she said. “Considering what Rakarn did to you, it may be difficult to watch Lyric take part.”
Kell looked at Lyric and grabbed her hand. “I won’t let you do this alone,” he said.
“Is that wise?” Runa asked, watching the tattoo on his neck.
“Is any of this?” Kell shot back.
Laenadara stood up. “I'll ask Ashlain to bring your food.”
28
Runa
A simple dinner was brought to them after Laenadara left, flatbread covered in green sauce, goat cheese, and fire-roasted vegetables. After sharing the meal in the seclusion of their room, several Ayanaran women came at dusk to take Runa and Lyric to soak in secluded hot springs, while Kell went in search of Eleden and the others.
Attended by the women while they soaked in the warm, blue-green pools, Runa was unnerved by the reverential shine in their eyes. It was like they were all holding their breath, waiting for her and Lyric to do something marvelous. Sharing uncomfortable smiles, Runa and Lyric bathed in silence.
After they’d soaked in the deep water for nearly half an hour, their attendees stepped forward with towels. Runa and Lyric were helped out of the warm pool and dried, then covered in oil that smelled of nuts and flowers. The Ayanarans gave them both gray robes and led them barefoot back to their room where they combed out their hair with wooden combs.
“Is this part of the ritual?” Lyric asked one of the women.
“You must be cleansed before we seek the Mother’s blessing,” one of them answered.
“Has the Tree ever spoke to you?” Runa asked, wincing as the comb scraped across her scalp.
“Never,” the woman said, her voice hushed. “That is an honor for our High Priestess. And what a blessing for you, that you will hear Aya’s voice. I wonder what She sounds like?” She flushed as if embarrassed by her words and stepped back, clutching the comb against her chest.
Runa stood and smoothed her hands across the soft robe enfolding her body. They’d left her hair loose around her shoulders, and it felt heavy against her back.
“It’s time,” a dark-haired woman said, gesturing at the door.
Glancing at Lyric, Runa pushed through the vines.
Laenadara was standing outside with the bearded priest beside her. She’d traded her robe for a black one with a deep hood that she’d pulled over her hair. Two others accompanied the priests — an elderly, white-haired man with unsettling gray eyes, and a middle-aged woman with short, gray curls, and a hooked nose.
To the Ayanarans’ left waited Kell. He’d bathed and was wearing green trousers and a long shirt, unlaced at the throat. Beside him stood Eleden, Laerdi, Sashala, and Teaeth, all wearing their familiar Sireni clothes, and still looking ill at ease.
“You’re ready?” Laenadara asked, meeting Runa’s eyes.
Lyric grabbed Runa’s hand, and she felt her sister’s nervous pulse beneath her fingers.
“To speak to Aya, yes,” Runa said.
Laenadara inclined her head.
Eleden stepped up beside the High Priestess, muscles flexing in his arms, and gave the Ayanarans a challenging look. “We’re coming too,” he said decisively.
Kell, Laerdi, Sashala, and Teaeth formed around him, looking dangerous despite holding no weapons.
“You may be present, but Aya will only speak to Lyric and Runa.” Laenadara’s eyes flicked to Runa. “After, if we begin the ritual, you must not interfere. This is crucial. Once it begins, we cannot stop it. No matter what happens.”
Eleden looked at Runa and Lyric. By the expression on his face, Kell had told him their concerns about Laenadara. “Agreed,” he said, “but the girls will decide if the ritual begins.”
“Of course,” Laenadara said. “Now, if you’d follow me?”
Runa, Lyric, and the others followed the Ayanaran priests away from the village. They climbed a steep hill, passing beneath a dense cover of leaves that grew ever more tangled until shadows surrounded them.
Runa felt the skin on her neck prickle, sensing unseen eyes on her back. She tightened her grip on Lyric’s hand and for several breaths, all Runa could hear was the thud of her heart in her ears and the ragged pull of air into her lungs.
The foliage lightened, and they stepped inside a large clearing. Bright green moss covered the groun
d, and pale purple flowers adorned every bush around its edge. In front of them was an enormous tree with large, looping branches that curved up into the leafy ceiling above. Thousands of diamond-shaped leaves covered the tree, the colors ranging from deep green to dark purple.
A woman, plump with a luminous, umber face and large green eyes, smiled beatifically from beside the tree. She was robed like Laenadara and held a staff in her hand. Beside her was Theo, the horned man, grinning as his eyes fell on Runa. He had a bowl in his hands, filled with pearlescent liquid that sloshed dangerously close to its edge as he winked.
Nodding at Theo and the woman, Laenadara knelt in front of the tree and pressed her palms against its dark gray trunk, her fingers splayed on whorls that covered every inch of the uneven wood. “Kneel beside me, please,” she said, not looking over her shoulder.
Runa eyed Lyric, and together they knelt on Laenadara’s left still holding hands.
The ground felt cool beneath Runa’s knees, and she stared at the High Priestess as she closed her eyes. Was that the shape of a face above Laenadara’s hands?
“The Mother is pleased by your presence,” the High Priestess said, turning her head. “Place your hands on Her like this.”
Anticipation fluttering inside her stomach, Runa pressed her hand against the tree. The bark felt rough and warm against her skin. Swallowing, she prepared to listen to the Ayanarans’ god.
Aya? she thought.
Nothing happened.
Runa looked at Lyric who gave a small shrug, her brows knotted over her eyes.
“I don’t hear anything,” Runa said, looking at Laenadara.
The High Priestess seemed confused and looked at the tree, flattening her fingers against it. The consternation grew on her face. Swallowing, Laenadara glanced back at the other priests.
The woman with the staff frowned down at Theo, who returned her gaze with confusion. He shrugged, nearly spilling the liquid again.
Daughters of Fire & Sea Page 34
