by Lexy Wolfe
I sense you are within Desantiva’s divine realm, the Timeless One observed. May We assume you have explained the situation to Him, Terrence?
He glanced at the dragon god who waved a forepaw at him to continue. “Yes, Mistress. He is. I felt it best to be candid. Secrets, assumptions, and lack of knowledge have contributed to a great deal of grief between the peoples of the mages and the warriors, as well as between their divine patrons.”
Secrets are necessary, the Unchanging One stated, her tones flat. If all knew everything about the other, there would be nothing unique. No difference between a warrior or a mage. The world would dissolve into chaos and be destroyed.
You assume, Order! If it were not for change, nothing would have evolved to be what it is now. It will continue to evolve and become something new. Trying to force things to remain as they are now would cause stagnation and even You would become bored. Just as You had before Time showed Us a better way, the Changing One shot back with simmering anger.
But look at it now! Two new gods skulking around, not showing Their faces to Us, and their mortals merely diluted shadows of their greater ancestors! At least Heart and Knowledge contrasted enough to birth something unique.
You insisted the Roylat had to all be one or the other when even they would have been willing to embrace both of the new divine elements. The First Sundering nearly destroyed Our creation! And then you tried to coerce Zhekali’s return with threats!
“Just as You attempted to influence Storm’s decision by assuming her Desanti will to survive would make her choose immortality over oblivion, Lord Chaos?” Terrence asked in bland tones.
Utter silence enveloped both audience and ancient trinity. After several moments, the Totani traded amazed looks, murmuring among themselves.
You had a hand in this mess as well, Chaos? The disappointment in the Timeless One’s voice rang clear.
How was I to know how determined Zhekali would be? When she finally came to us, it was too late to change course.
Time sighed loudly. We will discuss Your actions later. What do you need of Us, Heir of Zhekali?
“The na’Zhekali have assisted in the restoration of Storm il’Thandar’s bond to Thandar so both will survive, but the damage will require considerable time to heal for them both. Also, the wounds that Desantiva’s territory had bled from since the Great War are in the process of being closed. I intend to complete the work needed so the land can continue to recover without the need of outside aid.
“However, the reasons for much of what caused the divides and rifts that threatened the great balance can be attributed to actions—and interferences—by the ancient trinity. Therefore, I have several…desiderata to make on behalf of Lord Desantiva, Lady Forenta, and the na’Zhekali tribe.” Raising a forepaw to rest His chin on, the dragon god watched with growing amusement and approval.
You know a desideratum is a request that goes against the divine edicts, the Unchanging One stated after some time.
“I am quite aware of that, yes,” Terrence replied. “But You might consider that the divine edicts are too broad and inflexible. They leave no room for exceptions in those cases they cause more harm than good.” His voice hardened. “For instance, forcing Zhekali to choose between her mortal and immortal families caused her to seek oblivion instead because either loss to her was unbearable, and Your threats interminable. It made things so much more worse than it needed to be.”
We see your wisdom, the Timeless One stated, Her tone hinting that Order and Chaos remain silent or face Her wrath. An exception in one instance would not give license to others to take advantage of without ensuring it would not cause harm. Very well. What do you request of Us?
Smoothed stone walls rose high above the desert floor, crenellations carved along the tops and the various towers that perched along them. Another structure stood above and beyond the first, the rock gleaming white against the black of the mountain’s volcanic composition.
“This is the Citadel,” Skyfire stated, having lost none of the grimness that had settled on him since the encounter with his and Star’s father. “It is the holiest of holy places within Desantiva’s borders. All the sacred Paths come here to pay honor to our ancestors.”
Star’s face creased with worry for her brother when she looked at his profile. “It is also where a Path’s new Alanis is chosen when there is…need.” Her eyes closed as his voice broke.
Riding beside Tyrsan, Jarota noticed his pensive expression. “With Roshisan’s death, there is no na’Citali tribe any longer, Dusvet. The Path of the Spirit has no voice to the Totani.” She sighed. “Not that I think it had one for many years.”
He regarded the woman. “What does it mean to be without a tribe?”
Jarota shrugged her shoulder. “If we do not find acceptance in another? We will be outcasts, scorned as diseased or cursed, and eventually die.”
“Can’t someone just take over as the chieftain?”
She pressed her lips together, frowning. “I do not know how to explain so you could understand. To be Alanis is to be the tribe’s heart. It is more than sharing bayuli-volsha. The position can be shared, but it must be passed on to endure. Even if there is only one, he or she often performs a ritual with someone suited to receive the tribe’s heart if they died. When Radisen…Skyfire left us, Roshisan never chose anyone to succeed him.”
Tyrsan could only stare at her. She smiled at his expression. “Needing to be connected to others is the price we pay for being one of the great father’s children. To be alone means madness or death. Most prefer the latter. The former is a path to dishonor.”
“It seems a bit,” he said slowly, searching for a less unkind word.
“Harsh? Dusvet, harsh is all we know of life.”
He managed a wan smile. “I was going to say unfair.”
The woman looked at him, perplexed. “But it is quite fair. What happened to the na’Citali? Even to the Path? It has happened to others. It will likely happen again in the future. Because no tribe is better than another. No one is infallible. We are equal in our potential failings as we are in our potential successes.” She reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “But we endure. Where one falls down, another rises up.”
He tilted his head, thoughtful as he considered her words. “There is a level of maturity in your world view that is not often seen outside of Desantiva. Forgive me, but I had not expected that.”
“Our lives are short, Dusvet. We do not have the luxury of time to lie to ourselves.”
He held out his hand to her. “Please, call me Tyrsan, Jarota. Life is too short to worry about formality.” The woman blinked, glancing up with golden eyes as she put hers in his. She looked away again with a shy smile, her dark cheeks gaining a hint more color in them.
When the group neared the massive edifice, the sound of horns filled the air and a flood of people emerged. At the forefront was Alanis Tyluri Garyt, his expression one of concern. Only a fraction of it lifted when he spied Star and Skyfire. “What happened? We saw the light in the Path extinguish.”
“The Alanis Su’alin perished from wounds protecting his tribe from one of the deep shadows that emerged during a ground quake,” Skyfire stated, his voice holding no emotion.
Garyt squinted at him, then his eyes were drawn to Nyla riding behind Star. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. After taking a deep breath, he stated, “We have shelter prepared for you in the grand tower.”
“The Keeper summons us?” Skyfire asked.
Garyt would not meet anyone’s gaze. “No, Githalin. Much has happened since you were last here. We have been awaiting your arrival with great anxiety since the light within the crystal symbolizing your Path went out. We are very relieved to know not all of the Su’alin perished with Roshisan.”
He waved a hand to signal the gates be closed. The giant stone doors swung shut with an ominous thump. “Please, come. There is much that must be attended to, but all of you are in need of rest. Even
the dullest rock would see that.”
THE RAGGED GROUP, already exhausted from travel, dragged themselves up the long stairs from the lower, dark rock section of the Citadel to the upper tower of pure white marble. Two warriors bowed to them then opened the gates.
“Kiya!” “Radisen!” Star and Skyfire startled when Nolyn and Lyra shouted their names the moment they crossed the threshold.
Nolyn nearly crushed Star in a fierce embrace before he released her, cupping her cheeks and peppering her face with kisses. His whisper for her was gruff as they held one another “I understand now. What it means to be a lifemate.” He closed his eyes against his own tears. “Life would be meaningless without you.” Her shoulders shook with silent sobs at the emotions from events since they parted finally caught up to her.
Lyra approached Skyfire with significantly more tentativeness. Her lashes glittered with tears as she looked up into his grim visage. Her pale fingers touched his cheek with a tender caress. He closed his eyes, catching her hand in his and pressing it against his lips. “I don’t know,” he began, his voice breaking.
“It’s okay,” she replied with a sad, trembling smile. “We’ll figure it out. Together. I won’t ever abandon you. I love you too much.” He fell to his knees, letting her pull him close. He held onto her like a drowning man, the slight archer stroking his hair soothingly.
The rest of the group moved around them to enter the huge entrance chamber. They all looked behind them in reflex when the doors closed. Their eyes scanned the room with guarded curiosity and considerable uncertainty. Most of the remaining na’Citali huddled together, staring as if awaiting punishment for their trespass.
Tyrsan touched Jarota’s shoulder. “You are a full Su’alin, aren’t you? Have you never been here before?”
She shook her head. “I have heard it described, but I had not seen it. This is the most sacred place in all of Desantiva. Traditionally, only the Alanis of the Paths, the god-touched, or the tribal and Path seconds may enter.” She managed a smile when he clasped her hand reassuringly. “If the Keeper summons you.”
Unlike the others, Nyla walked around the chamber, touching all the carvings along the wall. She yelped when something cold bumped the back of her leg, spinning with her hands held up defensively to come nose to nose with the reptilian tigrin Garst. The beast snarled at the four tiny avians who swooped toward her.
“It is about time you showed up.” She looked up at the young man stepping out of the central archway. “We were beginning to worry about you, Nyla!”
She covered her mouth with both hands, tears coming to her eyes. “Quinn? Is it really you?”
He snorted, crossing his arms. “No, I’m Uzima. I felt being a man today.” The tigrin looked over his shoulder, then snorted. “I was not talking to you, Garst!”
She giggled, then stared at Quinn. “You said ‘we.’ Are the others…?”
Quinn took her hand and pulled her after him. “Don’t just stand there. Come see for yourself!” He paused long enough to give the others a moment of his attention. “All of you! Let’s go! It doesn’t do to keep the Alanis na’Zhekali waiting! There’s food and water and…” He looked his sister up and down. “Thandar’s talons, we need to get you something that fits better.”
The young woman blushed. “I look fine! Star was kind enough to give me some of her clothes.”
“Well, you look like you are drowning in that, little sister. Maybe now that we’re not stuck as rocks holding the world together, you’ll finally fill out up top.”
“I am not that small, you brat!” Nyla’s smack and Quinn’s yelp echoed from the hall they disappeared down. The others laughed nervously, following the siblings.
The last to follow, Skyfire looked up at Lyra. “Aelia? Is she…?” The slight archer took his hand, holding it tight as he stood. While he felt and saw no despair or urgency in his lovemate, her silence drew him out of his own with concern for his th’yala to hurry after the rest.
SUN STREAMED THROUGH crystalline panes in the ceiling. A long table filled with pitchers of water, bowls and platters of food dominated the center of the oval chamber. Rugs framed the table where the other freed A’tyrna Ulan, na’Zhekali, and Star’s Swordanzen guardsmen waited.
Lyra led Skyfire to the empty places by Storm seated alone at the leader’s place. In a low, wide basket, the twins slept together by her side. Skyfire frowned at the absence of her lifemate. “Aelia, where is Ash?”
“Recovering,” she assured with a tired smile. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, dismayed at the lines of exhaustion and general sickly appearance. “Father allowed one more unnatural portal to be forced open so we could come here directly. Ash…will not be strong enough to travel for several more days and there is still much that needs doing here.”
“I sort of made a mess of things,” Terrence added, scratching his head, giving Skyfire a sheepish grin. “I have to get used to balancing thinking and feeling better.” He shrugged at the stares of those who knew him before his physical changes. “It’s a long story. I promise, I’ll explain everything before you leave.”
“You won’t be returning to Forenta with us?” Nolyn frowned. “This is the first I’ve heard of that.”
“I know. I’ve only spoken with Storm about it. It isn’t that I don’t want to go back. It’s just there is a lot of work left to ensure Desantiva remains stable so it can recover without outside help. Freeing the A’tyrna Ulan from their servitude was only the beginning.”
“And you have much to learn about being Desanti,” Etienne stated, his grave tones contrasting with his playful smack to Terrence’s head. “Honestly, what do they teach Forenten? Father was nothing like you.”
Terrence squinted at him. “It’s been over two thousand years, Etienne. Things change!”
“You gamble. Father never gambled.”
“Yes he did,” Nyla interrupted. “Who do you think taught Liam and Jacinth?” The eldest brother shot a dark look at the twin siblings, both who offered mirroring faux sweet smiles.
Jaison smirked, shaking his head as he refilled his cup. “It is going to be strange not being the oldest na’Zhekali anymore.” He raised his drink to Storm. “I will keep them out of trouble, Alanis.”
Bella snorted softly, leaning against him as she tucked her arm in his. “Mm hm. Exactly how long do you think it will be before Desantiva is overrun with Hunter il’Thandar’s grandchildren?” Laughter filled the room at his sheepish expression.
As the siblings banter began to draw in the remaining na’Citali, Storm spoke where only those nearest could hear. “The tribe needs to find a new home,” she said with a sigh. “The territory that belonged to us will be unfit for anything for as long a time as Ash and I had endured the curse at the very least.”
“The region still belongs to the na’Zhekali, and it will recover. Just as the tribe has recovered.” Tyrsan smiled at the young woman. “You might even live long enough to see it green and thriving with life great and humble.”
“Storm, what is to happen to…those once of the na’Citali?” Star asked. Silence fell over the entire table at her blunt question. “Without our…without Father, we are outcasts.”
The woman sat silent for several minutes, hand resting on her son. “To any other tribe, I would show them how to discover the Alanis within those who remain and reform the tribe.”
“But your tribal Alanis was also your Path’s Alanis. The needs of a tribe are different than a Path. A tribe must have balance. Warriors and Su’alin are important, but so are the craftsmen, the caretakers of the children, the tenders of the tribe’s drizzen or the land they travel through. As much as Roshisan was dedicated to both, he could not balance the demands of both and it ultimately destroyed him.
“Could they be welcomed as part of the na’Zhekali?” Skyfire asked, a note of hope in his voice. “Star has said that the outlands need those with Citali’s gifts.”
“No.” Most looked at Jarota in surpr
ise when she spoke up. “I mean no disrespect, but I sense your tribe has a purpose that most of us could never live up to. All any of us have known is life in Desantiva. Well, save for the three who are now Githalin.”
Thoughtful, Storm mused, “Perhaps the Su’alin do not need the tribal bayuli-volsha at all.” She held up a hand to silence the cacophony of protests and questions of alarm from the others. “Consider this. It is accepted that those who have chosen to follow the Path of the Sword strengthen and enrich their tribes once they return. However, not everyone who journeys down the Path of the Sword returns to the tribes if they lay down their blades.
“It is supported by the Tyluran. Those starting on the Path, those who once walked it, and those who prefer the bond they share with those here.” She looked at Star and Skyfire. “Many generations of Alanis na’Citali worked to isolate Citali’s favored. Clouding it in mystery, making his blessing a thing to be feared among those without it. Roshisan was the one where the results of that effort peaked. The collapse is a result and a lesson about why isolation is harmful.”
“But didn’t the na’Zhekali do the same with those bearing the appearance of you…er ancestor?” Seeker asked, head tilted to one side as he dragged out the word to keep those still unaware of her previous incarnation’s identity oblivious to it.
“Not everyone born to a na’Zhekali had the physical traits.” Storm smiled as she closed her eyes, touching her temple as she communed with Thandar. “The men sired many, many children on women of other tribes. Some men even managed to woo na’Zhekali women to bear theirs. Perhaps one in ten who survived had the appearance.” Her smile faded. “And all knew any child that looked na’Zhekali often would not survive because of the honor stigma.”
“To defeat a na’Zhekali was a mark of strength. Defeating any na’Zhekali, even a child or elder, was still a victory.” Jaison sighed. “My mother being Vodani is why my sire sent me away. I had never been formally made part of the tribe and I learned to mask my appearance. No one even knew about me.”
