The Unforeseen One

by Lexy Wolfe

  “What do you think you are doing?” the man demanded.

  “I believe,” Ash responded in accented Desanti, “I am answering your challenge to my right to sit by my lifemate as Alanis to the na’Zhekali tribe.” He held his arms out to his side. “Unless you concede the point?”

  “You are mocking us!”

  “You are disgracing yourself,” he shot back. “And your people. I am not going let Aelia na’Zhekali fight my battles. I can answer my challenges myself. But, if you are unwilling to face me, I am willing to accept the warrior you choose to hide behind.” The man’s expression darkened with fury as the crowd’s voices swelled until they echoed from the wall of the butte.

  From where he knelt behind Storm as First Warrior of the na’Zhekali, Skyfire leaned forward to whisper in Storm’s ear. “I am not sure if I should admire him or wonder if all sanity has left him.”

  She smirked. “Perhaps a little of both. Chelik does not have much choice. If he does not stand up for himself, he would be seen as weak. But Ash is no warrior as Chelik is.” Her amusement faded. “If he does anything that breaks the edicts of the gathering and grievously hurts my lifemate—”

  “Chelik is not so foolish,” Skyfire assured, putting a hand on her upper arm. “No matter his feelings for the northborn. There are many whose hatred runs to their cores. It will be more generations than I can imagine until the resentment of the past begins to ease.”

  The two fell silent when the Desanti chieftain charged the mage, fist cocked to punch him. Just as it appeared the blow would land, Ash shifted to one side, grabbed the outstretched wrist, and yanked hard. Pulled off-balance, Chelik staggered several steps before catching his balance again.

  He spun, charging again. Ash ducked, driving his shoulder into the other man’s solar plexus. Chelik stumbled, trying to catch his breath from the impact. The mage kept his focus on the chieftain, ignoring the roar of the crowd. He waited for the other man to recover his breath, awaiting his next attack.

  Barely recovered, Chelik charged, grabbing Ash and trying to wrap his arms around his chest in a crushing embrace. The mage grimaced, having brought his fists up in time to be caught in the hold, enough to keep the warrior from squeezing the air from his lungs. After a heartbeat trying to break the man’s grip, Ash let one knee fold, turning sharply as both fell so he landed atop Chelik. The jarring fall loosened the hold enough to allow Ash to get free of him.

  He turned, putting his arm across the other’s throat, careful to not crush his windpipe. Chelik glared. “How can a defiler know how to fight like one of the people?”

  “You expect Storm il’Thandar to tolerate her lifemate being unable to meet her challenges?” Ash snorted at the idea. “I have more respect for her than what you afford her.”

  “I respect our lord’s Githalin,” Chelik growled, face flushing darker, his eyes shifting away from Ash’s. “I did not expect a defiler to do the same.”

  “My ancestors were misguided fools who justifiably feared the warriors, but committed an atrocity against all of the gods.” He backed off, kneeling in the soft sand as the other sat up. “Even our own. There is nothing that can excuse that.”

  Chelik studied Ash with narrowed eyes in silence before he pushed himself to his feet without a word and stalked back to his place. The mage got up and returned to the rug by his lifemate, brushing the sand from his body. “That was surprisingly satisfying,” he muttered for Storm and Skyfire’s ears alone.

  She eyed him, then shook her head. “I doubt dealing with your people would be nearly as gratifying. I am more than happy to leave that to Star if the tribes accept the proposal.” She regarded Elder Nesaka as the woman stood to open the meeting with more ceremony. “At least there will be less argument in accepting the others in the tribe.”

  Skyfire chuckled at Ash’s expression when he looked at his lifemate’s profile. “You are still thinking like a Northborn. The Alanis is representative of who they serve. In our people’s eyes, you represent those that have no Desanti blood in the na’Zhekali. Being willing to face another Alanis on our people’s terms without using Forenten or Guardian magics has impressed the tribes.”

  “Not all will be pleased. Some will never accept someone who is not Desanti-born, and will complain with equal bitterness about a lack of following our traditions as they will if they were followed.” She glanced at him. “You just knowing how to speak Desanti offends some.”

  “Wait until my people realize you and Skyfire can not only speak Forentan, you can read and write it as well.”

  “I still hate it,” Storm grumbled. “It makes my eyes and head hurt.”

  Ash looked around the circle as the chieftains took their turns reporting on matters of their territories’ health, how many were available for season dances, and requirements for allowing cross-tribal bonds, such as the exchange of members to strengthen bloodlines or numbers. “I am surprised at the number of tribes with more than one leader. I thought we were…unique.”

  “We are because we are a lifemated pair. Some are siblings, some know they are strong in some aspects of tribal governance and have another strong in their weaknesses by their side. Most are aware of the dangers of having only a single Alanis.”

  He frowned, looking at her. “Danger?”

  “If a strong Alanis is lost and there is no other to stand in their place, or worse, there are many who vie for the position? It could cause the entire tribe to collapse,” Skyfire said in a low voice as Storm rose. “Since she and I had left, there are three tribes gone, and four new ones in the circle.”

  “I see,” Ash murmured, watching his lifemate, only half-listening to her.

  Storm strode to the center of the circle as the previous speaker returned to her place. “As Alanis, I appreciate the many gifts offered to the na’Zhekali upon our arrival and with the passing of my grandfather, Elder Verris. But please understand this. They cannot be used to earn forgiveness for the sins committed against the Heart. As Githalin Swordanzen, I can assure you it will not be earned until our great father is assured His edicts of nonviolence are obeyed. That will require time, living each day without willfully breaking the sacred laws. A gesture means nothing if the same sin is committed after.”

  “Alanis Aelia na’Zhekali.” All eyes turned to the Alanis Su’alin as he stood, his posture reflecting his arrogance. “How can you claim to be part of a tribe and a Swordanzen at the same time? We all know,” he stated, waving his arms, “that Swordanzen must sacrifice their bond to their tribes to serve their Path. Not a weakness of the Path of the Spirit, as you are aware.”

  “How can I explain?” Storm’s voice rang clear over the loud murmuring consuming the audience. “If you understood the Path of the Sword, then you would understand the reason the bond has to be sacrificed at all.” She waved at him in a dismissive gesture. “But you refuse to consider anything other than your Path worth learning about.”

  “Githalin Swordanzen Storm speaks the truth, Roshisan,” stated an older man lined with scars and carrying several forged swords on his person. He pounded his fist over his heart. “I am the Alanis Tyluri and you do not request anything from me. You demand, as if Swordanzen or we who train and support them are beneath you.”

  The Alanis Su’alin scowled, grinding his teeth for several moments before he demanded, “Then tell us why you can bear bayuli-volsha and still claim to be Swordanzen. All know the tribal bond must be broken to feel all equally.”

  “Because I am Githalin,” she stated. “I share a bond with my Totani, and my Totani shares a bond with the land. Not even bayuli-volsha can overwhelm the whispers of the land from a Githalin.”

  “Your mark is no longer black, Githalin Storm?” the Alanis Tyluri asked, voicing his sudden realization that it gleamed gold.”

  “It is not, no. Because Skyfire and I performed the shli’zarii and the shadows banished as we proved ourselves both fit to bear both marks and our swords.” The Desanti fell to whispering in shock, lookin
g at the tall man as he stood, the bright silver of his mark standing out in sharp contrast against his dark skin. “We fought to a draw, but survived only because our tribe protected us for the many days required to recover.” She squared her shoulders. “It is no sin for a Swordanzen to defer answering a challenge made to them. They need only those they can trust to protect them in a time of weakness.”

  The Alanis Tyluri frowned, more thoughtful than upset. “This is not the place to discuss matters of the Paths. I would be honored if you and Skyfire would return with us so we may learn from you.”

  Storm’s expression did not betray the twinge of anxiousness the request stirred. “If no other duties demand our attentions, Alanis Tyluri, of course.” The man nodded once and settled back on his rug. The woman fixed a dark look on Roshisan. “Do you have any other challenges to make to me or the na’Zhekali before all of the tribes?” Even behind his veil, his seething rage could be seen from the furthest set of eyes as he resumed his seat.

  Once that drama passed, Storm returned her attention to the gathered. “We also thank all who have offered to share a season dance with several members of the tribe.” Those who had been away looked curiously at the chuckling Swordanzen and red-faced healer. “However, the tribe is newly restored, many with limited knowledge of the traditions and history of those who had come before them, as well as the need to return to our territory. We ask patience until the next Time of Gathering before considering all offers for partnering with any of us.”

  The various leaders traded looks. Elder Nesaka ritually requested their answers, the majority accepting Storm’s request. She announced it with ritualistic formality. “The tribes hear and accept the requests of the na’Zhekali.” The woman turned to her. “Alanis na’Zhekali, I understand you are sponsoring a request from beyond our borders?”

  Storm nodded, looking back to the group. Taylin held Laurel as Nolyn, Star, and the four Swordanzen rose to join her. She motioned to them to step forward.

  The more fragile-appearing woman took a deep breath. Her voice did not waver, carrying with a strength that drew surprise from the other Desanti. “During the time I spent traveling to and staying in Forenta awaiting the return of Githalin Swordanzen Storm and Skyfire, I saw how the northborn suffered, despite being in a land filled with so much they can afford to waste in ignorance.

  “They often take life for granted and fear death so deeply, many spirits are trapped and unable to return to their ancestors so they may be reborn one day.” Those in the audience flinched or gasped in horror at the concept of not returning. “Terrible monsters that appear so rarely here they are legends to us roam freely and grow strong without any who can hunt them. They grow so strong that only a divine hand is capable of facing their threat.

  “The Forentan leader has learned how much his people lack, how deeply his ancestors erred when they turned away from our wisdom. They want to change the patterns of the past that had shaken the great balance. They will not impose themselves on us. They wish to speak on equal terms, but they cannot communicate with our people within our traditions.”

  “Why not?” Chelik demanded. “They think they are better than us?”

  “No, honored Alanis,” Nolyn answered. “Our social hierarchy is not like yours. Your tribes are sovereign and each speaks with one voice. The Desanti nation speaks with many voices and many hearts, and together you must gather to come to a consensus on anything that impacts all.”

  The man frowned, perplexed. “We know your numbers are much greater than ours. It is not this way for the defilers?”

  “No, Alanis.” Nolyn paused, frowning as he thought how to explain. “Our lands are divided into twelve territories with a great number of families within each. Some very small, some very large. Those considered…better than others speak for the lesser families. Only one person is chosen to represent their region as Edai Magus, a single voice, and all twelve lands are united under the Se’edai Magus, also a single voice.”

  Consternation met the revelation. “You have only…one voice to represent your nation?” Chelik asked.

  Nolyn nodded. “Yes, Alanis. For us, it simplifies matters entrusting an individual to speak for many. Admittedly, it risks some never being heard, but that is the reality of Forenta. We do not want to intrude in your land. Our ancestors have given you little reason to trust us, so we will not come unless there is need or invitation. However, I want to ensure the Desanti people are never again without a voice in Forenta.” He put his hand over his heart. “Allow me to formally introduce myself to you.

  “I am Nolyn Lirai, Edai Magus of the capitol region Verusia and second to Se’edai Magus Ellis Avarian. I wish to offer myself as liaison to any of your people who may come to Forenta, as someone who would mediate conflicts misunderstanding might cause. I came to Desantiva only to offer myself in service to your people, not bring harm as my ancestors had.” The Desanti looked away in discomfort, the memory of stoning the man as he hung on the judgment rocks.

  He smiled lopsidedly. “I bear no ill will for what happened when I had first arrived. I was ignorant of your feelings on the past and brought many confusing changes to you. Please, forgive me my naïve ignorance. My ancestors had much to answer for. I cannot atone for the actions of those long gone, but I wish to try to mend relations between our peoples so a Great War can never happen again. To protect your people and mine.” The various Alanis frowned, most guardedly thoughtful.

  “The voice of the Forenten, their Se’edai Magus, asked if I would speak for the people of Desantiva,” Star stated. The Desanti looked at each other in confusion, surprise, some with curiosity, others with defensive hostility. “I refused, because I could not do so without your approval. I am here now to ask for your blessings to allow me to be Desantiva’s voice to the northborn.” She paused and squared her shoulders. “Regardless of your decision, I intend to return to Forenta with Edai Magus Nolyn to aid the spirits of those who are lost.”

  “No!” The Alanis Su’alin jumped to his feet. “Your quest to return the Githalin is done, Su’alin Kiya! I have given you no permission to—”

  “I do not need your permission, Father.” Star flipped her veil back. Despite her trembling, she glared fiercely. “And my quest is not finished. The A’tyrna Ulan did not tell me which Githalin had to return. You changed her words, believing she meant the Githalin we knew of. I confess I believed the same then. But now I am Githalin, Seeker is Githalin. And Sumyr il’Dzee…is Githalin. None can question the choices of the Totani.

  “But once the quest is done, the question answered, and the A’tyrna Ulan freed, I will return to Forenta. If for no other reason, to teach my brother Skyfire what he could not learn when his vision was still impaired, so he may serve Citali as he desires. I know he intends to remain by the Alanis na’Zhekali’s sides, and the na’Zhekali have duties as Guardians of Time to all the lands, not only to Desantiva.”

  Roshisan blinked in shock, looking at Skyfire. “Your spiritwalker vision is healed?”

  “Yes. The Timeless One granted me a boon,” Skyfire stated with cold matter-of-fact-ness. “If we had not imprisoned ourselves within our own land, we might have been able to seek the aid of those outside in matters where they possess greater skill than we do. Just as they could have sought us for the greater skills we have and they do not.”

  “Then you must be returned to me.” The man scowled at Storm, ignoring Ash. “All with Citali’s gift belong to the na’Citali tribe!”

  “No.” Skyfire put his hand over his heart, gold eyes glittering with emotion. “I am na’Zhekali now. Both Alanis welcomed me as friend and sibling. I stay with them.”

  “Kiya,” Roshisan began. “If you stray from the patterns…”

  “The decision is not yours, Alanis Su’alin,” Storm stated. “Nor is it mine. It is for the tribes to decide if they accept Githalin Su’alin Star il’Citali to speak on their behalf.” She crossed her arms. “The na’Zhekali no longer serves only Desantiva, so we absta
in from the decision.” She looked at Star. “Our people have faithfully kept the patterns of old so we could survive what was left to us, to preserve what remained. It is time to learn new patterns so we can heal. Star il’Citali is far better suited to this task than I am.” An approving murmur ran through the Desanti at Storm’s frank and unashamed admission of weakness to another’s strength.

  “No!” Roshisan bellowed. “I am Alanis Su’alin! I speak for the Path of the Spirit and all those chosen to walk it! She cannot—!”

  “You are turning spiritwalkers into slaves. Citali doesn’t want his Su’alin to be enslaved to him!” Star shot back. “You give no one any choice! I choose how I serve those who need me, whether they are one of the people or one of our ancient enemies. I choose how I serve our great father and my Totani. I do not need to be the voice of the people, I want to be. I would be honored to protect our people by helping bridge the divide between the warriors and mages.”

  Only the wind blowing across the craggy walls of the butte and over the land could be heard in the silence that had settled on the circle of tribal leaders, elders, and the audience of the tribes. Chelik stood, his voice bellowing so there was little doubt. “The Vi’linu accepts Githalin Su’alin Star il’Citali as our voice to the treewalkers, and Edai Magus Nolyn Lirai as our liaison.”

  “The Path of the Sword accepts Githalin Su’alin Star il’Citali as our voice, and Nolyn Lirai as our liaison,” the Alanis Tyluri called out. One by one, the tribes called out their acceptance of Star. Whether out of a belief in the Forenten’s intentions or to vex the Alanis Su’alin whose fuming was a dark, burning void even those without Desanti heritage could sense.

  “Thank you. I will ensure your voices are never silenced in Forenta,” Nolyn promised, his bow one of respect.

  Star lowered her eyes, clasping her hands in front of her and bowing deeply. “Thank you for entrusting this duty to me, Alanis of the tribes. I will not fail the people.”