The Sah'niir

by Kim Wedlock

  "Maybe all of them indeed," Anthis smiled. He gave her a suddenly formal and approving bow of his head and her cheeks turned even redder. "You have outdone yourself, Aria. It's beautiful. And it...reminds me a little bit of..." he chuckled as her eyes widened hopefully. "Of the elves. The spirals, the stories--"

  "Stories?" Garon looked closer. Now Aria's cheeks blazed, and Rathen's brow rose at the inquisitor's suddenly open interest.

  "There." Anthis pointed towards the base, and they slowly began to pick out shallow, subtle carvings remarkably similar to those found on ancient elven ruins inscribed across the wooden leaves. A gasp or two shortly followed. "They look like..." Anthis's eyes widened. "A simplified version of the poem carved into the pavilion we found in the Wildlands last time - but how did you ever remember it? You only saw it once!"

  "Because I liked it. I wanted to have the whole thing on there, but it...was too small."

  "What poem?" Eyila asked in growing fascination.

  "'The roots that burrow beneath our feet reach to the depths of the world, where Feira's heart beats, connected by wooden veins, all trees, all plants, all bushes; Her essence feeds all creatures from insects and fungus to the beasts that feed upon them. Sylvan glades, hidden in the tangles of Feira's hair, offer protection for those pure and in need, whatever form they take'."

  Anthis blinked. "I...well, that sounds right..."

  "She protects everything in the forests," Aria explained, "and we're trying to protect people, too. So I thought--"

  "It's perfect," Kienza declared, squeezing the girl's shoulders fondly. "And, I jump to point out, she received no help from me."

  "Well, that's not actually true - Kienza got me the wood." She smiled at her father. "It's from home. The big tree above the wonky hollow."

  "Your favourite tree."

  She beamed. And then her cheeks turned red again. And then her smile began to fade. She fought to keep it but shrugged disparagingly. "But Daddy got the Zi'veyn to work, which is really great...so we don't need it anymore."

  But Rathen shook his head with fervour, and took a tight hold of her hands. "We need it, sweetheart. I promise you. There are going to be...difficulties...further down the road, and if nothing else, this figure and the inscription you so wisely chose will encourage us to keep going despite it - despite Salus, and whatever he throws our way."

  Her big eyes hardened, and with a single, sharp nod of her head, her gloom suddenly halved. But despite her determination, he saw her lip quiver, and she didn't declare her acceptance. He pulled her close again.

  "What did you have to tell us?" Garon asked, looking away to Kienza as a tear rolled down the young girl's cheek, and in an instant, severity descended over the sylvan sorceress's cheerful features.

  In that moment her beauty shifted from wonderful to oppressive, and there was a sudden intolerance to foolishness in her eyes. "The Order has issued a decree," she informed them plainly. "Magic is only to be used where necessary. They've noticed that casting seems to exacerbate the situation and are taking measures to minimise it."

  "That's going to hamper things," Petra pointed out. "War is coming closer every day, and, whether people like it or not, we need mages alongside our soldiers."

  "Not to mention that the Arana isn't going to obey it," Garon added.

  "They are only a few and their magic is minimal," Kienza assured them. "As long as the majority adhere, it will be enough."

  "The rebels won't follow. They may well see this decree as a means of submitting to the populace."

  "Any spells that cause such havoc will not go unnoticed. By anyone. If they aren't reasonably necessary, as indeed a rebel attack would not be, the Order is prepared to dole out severe punishment."

  Garon's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

  She flashed a grin. "Because I snoop, dear inquisitor." Then her sobriety returned. "The Order is also aware of the magic's strengthening along the north-eastern border - Salus's doing, of course - and they're looking for patterns, but they've also taken the opportunity while all attention was turned that way to poke around some ruins in the west."

  "Owan?"

  She nodded. "They're also aware of the Arana's efforts to trap the areas and are avoiding them easily enough. They know they're out there, so they're ready for them."

  "He's been in touch with me - about magic and elements."

  "And what did you find?" She nodded again as he told her. "On the nose. And I daresay the Order is familiarising themselves with the notion of a place built entirely out of magic - though they're a bit short of the mark. At the moment they seem to think it's a single house." She sighed and shook her head hopelessly. "It's just as well you're all out here, or I fear Turunda would split into smithereens by the end of the month." She turned, then, towards Rathen, and spoke before he could loose the question on his tongue. "Tell me what the problem is."

  "The magic hasn't gone anywhere."

  "Yes, and?"

  He gave her a flat look. "Okay, so I jumped to conclusions. Forgive me for thinking that a solution you backed would in fact be a solution. But the magic hasn't gone anywhere, which means that it could still be a problem."

  "In my defence, I never explicitly said that the magic would be gone after using the Zi'veyn."

  "The word 'removed' was thrown around an awful lot."

  "Yes," Anthis stepped in carefully, "but elves and their--"

  "Don't say 'context'."

  "Oh come now, he isn't to blame. Tell me: how far did you get on your own spell before you got that garish old thing to work?"

  His dark eyes suddenly narrowed, turning almost black with suspicion. "Why?"

  "Well you've grasped the Zi'veyn," she replied, untouched, "you've repaired it and understood it. You're the most qualified out of anyone on the subject..." She smiled apologetically as she watched the knotting of his jaw. Clearly, he knew precisely what was coming. So she obliged. "Now you have to use that knowledge to make a spell to remove the magic."

  She waited for him to respond - everyone did. Among their grunts of hopelessness and irritation, all eyes turned to Rathen. But his protests didn't come. He didn't move. Even Kienza wondered if he'd been pushed to the point of something breaking inside his head.

  "In the mean time," she continued when it became apparent that he was no longer among them, "keep using the Zi'veyn to suspend the magic and break apart the spells. It's not the end of things, but it is helping, and it may well stop Salus from being able to find some of the ruins if you can get there first. As for the spell, the work Rathen has done on the Zi'veyn's replacement will certainly form the foundation for this one."

  "You couldn't have told me sooner?!"

  She shuddered at his sudden outburst, just as the others did, while Aria even squeaked. Kienza smiled sheepishly while the girl slapped her hands over her mouth. "I didn't want to pile it on." She took his wrist, then, and excused them from the group with a vague explanation of 'magical matters' before leading him off to the side.

  "I'm sorry," she told him as they stopped beyond the reach of the firelight, "but you know I have my reasons."

  "Yeah, you know, it wouldn't hurt to let me in on your grand schemes once in a while." He glared while she kissed him, but it didn't take much for him to give in. "Fine. Forgiven - as long as you answer some of my questions."

  "That sounds dubious."

  "What is the magic doing to mages?"

  "Really? You're just going to come right out with that? Jumping straight to the end of the game?"

  "Why does it have to be a game?!"

  "Because I've found that it's the only way that you will learn." She sighed in disappointment, then dropped down onto a perfectly seat-shaped root and waved him down beside her. "Eyila's suffering with it. Anyone can see that much. Have you had a look for yourself?"

  "Yes. You said it was about blood, so I checked. When she was under the magic's influence her own was excited and her resilience wasn't keeping up
with it. The peacefulness seems to calm the senses but leaves the magic open to attack. Her resilience falls behind with everything else. I found the same in another mage almost a week ago, but he was much further gone.

  "I've also spoken to Eyila about it, and she says that it gets stronger every time, but it isn't attacking her, just surrounding her, like it's waiting or goading."

  Kienza frowned. "Why would it be attacking her?"

  "I just...well because she seems to be overpowered by it. She's not strong enough...she succumbs quicker and deeper every time...and it's getting..." He stared off into the darkness.

  Kienza watched him carefully. "Getting?"

  He looked quickly back to her. "Uh, getting harder for her to resist it. She comes back out of it eventually, but I've seen her lapse a few times days after the fact, especially at night."

  "She's probably just tired."

  "Yeah, probably..." He looked back off into the black forest and fought the worry from his tone. "Is this what's been happening to everyone else? Weakened resilience? Or strained?"

  "Most likely."

  "Even..."

  "Probably."

  He didn't have the strength to voice the name. The thought that Sivaan Rosh could be anything less than perfect struck him with a strange disenchantment. He looked back to Kienza to find her studying him closely. "What is it?" He asked with a flicker of alarm.

  "Nothing. ...You look...older."

  "Well," he puffed, "things are..."

  "Stressful. But I wasn't looking to offend. You wear it well." She leaned over and kissed him, softly at first, but passion was quick to slip in.

  "I'll take what good news I can get, I suppose." He held her close and quickly matched her vigour.

  Kienza returned to the camp alone with a distinct purpose in her eyes. But though she quickly found whom she sought, she wandered instead towards another.

  She knelt beside Eyila at the edge of the trees, who was staring away to the north for miles, and began gently stroking her hair without a word. The tribal girl didn't jump, nor did she seem surprised by the contact, but when she turned her a smile, Kienza could see in a heartbeat that it didn't reach her soul.

  She stopped stroking and embraced her instead. Eyila returned it without question despite a furrow in her brow. "I am so, so sorry," she whispered softly, and for a few long seconds, neither of them moved, until Kienza felt the briefest shake of her shoulders and shudder of her chest - but no sound. No tears.

  She took her cheeks in her hands when they parted, and looked firmly into her pale eyes. "Ut'hala will be repaired," she promised her, and though she said no more, she rose with the certainty that Eyila believed her.

  "What was that?" Anthis asked quietly as Kienza joined him and his books beside the fire.

  "Nosy, aren't you?" She sat down and dropped her voice, though she was quite aware of everyone's location. Despite being at the centre of the camp, they weren't about to be overheard. Anthis, too, cast an instinctive look around, and set his work aside as she turned hard emerald eyes upon him. "Tell me what you've noticed."

  He hesitated, but after Kienza's confident if vague assurance that Rathen would be away for a while, he proceeded to tell her all about the events of Rowan's Repentance six days past.

  Her brow had creased deeply by the time he'd finished. "Not the first time, you say?"

  "No, but Petra was the only witness to the first." He watched her patiently, waiting for further questions or a clue of her suspicions, but her fingertip remained speculatively upon her lips. "What do you think happened?" He finally asked.

  "Any number of things," she mumbled. Then she raised her head and smiled gratefully. "What else?"

  "Well that's all, really."

  "I don't believe that. Remember Anthis: nothing is too small."

  He grimaced into the fire in thought. "The ditchlings," he said at last. "They said he felt different. 'Fuzzy' was the word."

  "Fuzzy..."

  "And he's...he's still playing himself down, but he's been holding himself taller at the same time, and not in defence. He's..." He trailed off and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  "His ego has swollen?"

  "I suppose you could say that," he replied very carefully.

  "Mm...he's inciting it himself..."

  "Sorry?"

  "Nothing," she smiled pleasantly. "Now, is there anything else?"

  "Well..." he looked about again, to which Kienza repeated her assurances, but his indecision remained unsoothed. He gave in only for the unbearable pressure of her gaze. "It's not my place to say it, but he does seem...distracted from time to time. Concerned."

  "Personal concern? Or...'professional'?"

  "Heh, I think you would be a better judge of that than I am."

  "Anthis, you know him better than that."

  He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. "...Then, yes. I'd say it was a personal concern..."

  "And you have an inkling of what it could be."

  He nodded slowly. "Magic. But in that area, you would definitely be a better judge. He could be worrying about Aria. Or his father. Or..."

  Her eyebrow rose. "Or?"

  "Or...anyone. You, perhaps. Who else would there be?"

  "Yes. Well, I think your first guess was right."

  He looked towards her when she failed to elaborate, and faltered when he saw an ominous colour in her eyes. He straightened. "What is it? What do you think is going on?"

  "I have my ideas," she replied quietly, "but I need more. So far, though, there's nothing I'm...too concerned about...but you must keep watching him. Remember: nothing--"

  "Is too small." He nodded. "I know."

  She smiled her gratitude, then embraced him. Startled, he hugged her back, and his confusion persisted when she withdrew and took a gentle hold of his arm. But as she turned it over, a sudden and instinctive panic seared through him. Frantically, he tried to pull his arm away, but though he tried, and tried so very hard, it didn't even twitch. Before he could find his tongue to beg release, she was already tracing a delicate fingertip down the length of his median antebrachial vein.

  In an instant, his struggle ceased. Ecstasy throbbed like fire through his blood. His breath shuddered free, and the campfire blurred in his clouded eyes.

  Kienza smiled and lowered his arm gently back into his lap. "A little refresher. You'll have no opportunities in the Wildlands."

  Gracefully, she rose to her feet, and after peering about the camp once again, stepped away and left the young man staring into the flames in a stupor. Rathen needed rousing from his own. But as she made her way back towards the depths of the forest where she'd left him, her name rose from behind. She stopped, turned and smiled warmly as Petra hurried towards her, throwing her own cautious glances across the surrounding trees. "Yes, my dear? What can I do for you?"

  "Uh," her enthusiasm dissipated as a shameful smile crept across her lips. "I have a...favour to ask, if it's not too much trouble."

  "Mmm, it depends. If it involves suspending time then I'm afraid not..."

  "No, it's--" Petra frowned. "You can do that?"

  "No," she pouted thoughtfully, "I've not figured it out yet. Now, what can I help you with?"

  "Well, it's not for me. It's Garon. He's--"

  "Nerve damage, yes, I know all about it."

  "Oh...well, is it the kind of thing that can be healed with magic?"

  "Oh yes, absolutely."

  "Thank goodness!" She beamed with relief as hope brightened her eyes. "So, could you?"

  "Oh no. No no. Not at all. No."

  Her smile collapsed. She watched, perplexed, as the sorceress shook her head far too conclusively. "Wh...why not?"

  "Because he doesn't want my help."

  "No," she sighed fractiously, "he doesn't want to ask for it. He's too damned proud - even though, and I'm sure of this, he thinks his honour is being compromised by disability." She shook her head hopelessly. "He says it isn't slowing him down, an
d it's not, but that doesn't mean he should have to make do, does it? He's...just...so stubborn! ...Why are you smiling at me like that?"

  "You sweet thing," she cooed. "You're quite stubborn too, you know. You didn't listen to him when he told you that he's fine at least five times - I have no doubt about that count."

  "Because he was lying. He doesn't want to look weak, so the only way to help him is to force it on him."

  Kienza's enviable lips bowed into a soft, sad smile. She reached out and took Petra's hand, stroking it softly with her thumb. "I would help him, if it would be welcome. But as it is...he doesn't want to be healed."

  "What? I-I don't understand - you're saying he wants to be injured?"

  "No of course not, that would be silly."

  "Then why doesn't he want to be healed?"

  Her thumb stilled, but her smile persisted. "Because of you."

  Chapter 30

  Leaves of emerald, jade, peridot; a hoard of endless aeons' secrets cradled beneath sweeping sylvan crowns; roiling hills and rising crests frozen in tourmaline, Turunda's fair and stormy shape, a majesty in slumber to envy the stars; a home, a bounty; Arasiin's beating heart.

  So Turunda had for centuries been proclaimed by poets and troubadours, afflicted as they so often were by an incurable and unyielding romanticism. But despite the beloved subject, it seemed that this not insignificant forest had been neglected from the innumerable verses for daring to break the popular mould.

  Though the wild and tangled domain certainly harboured more secrets than the royal chambers, the perfection was shattered by dark and primordial shades of malachite, diopside and verdite, gnarled and invasive roots and vines that strangled out of existence any thought of tranquillity, and the blood-curdling, charnel wails of vaporous creatures one daren't even imagine.

  Here was not serenity, humility or solitude; here was anguish, insignificance and isolation. Entrapment in a place where impossibility met the expected, a place unreal and yet pure on all levels - the very essence of what could happen when nature was kept free from the meddling reach of human or elf, and it radiated a magic all of its own.