by T J Marquis
“It has stood a long time,” Clora finished. “It has almost become a natural part of the earth, to my senses. It should continue to stand, I feel.”
Jon had spoken of this. Something in the City affected the one called the dark man, drove him to great lengths to harm or destroy it. Even the sarathi knew, though it seemed the people of Enkann did not. Curious.
The road on these plains grew even more unkempt until it was little more than hard-packed dirt. The ground swelled slightly ahead of them, and a fine covering of golden grasses reached in from the periphery to encroach upon the ancient path. The sarathi continued their small talk as the walk continued. Bahabe thought she noticed Hiytah scanning the eastern horizon several times, but she could see nothing there.
When the conversation had wound down, Hiytah took another long look to the east, then turned to his companions and said, “This silence is unbearable! Come, let us be swift and run!”
He took Bahabe and Clora by the hand, and together they melted into the grass and scrub. The sensation was similar to Bahabe’s flight through the forest canopy with Clora, but the details were different. She could now feel the warmth of the ground and smell the golden grasses, dry from summer’s heat. She felt the others nearby - Fila and Dasha had ranged on ahead - but she could not see them in the mad rush of this strange transit. Bahabe lost herself in it.
She thought that darkness fell swiftly, perceived through a slight dimming of the nebulous forms and energies she was being led through. The sudden ceasing of their travel felt like being jolted awake. Hiytah had brought her to the crown of a hill, its companions spread widely about, plains stretching east and south from there.
“We could press on,” he said, scanning the horizon, then looking to her, “but you’ll need some rest. Traveling this way is not without its cost. You must be famished!”
Indeed, hunger had reared viciously in her stomach the second they stopped on the hill, a deep cramp in her gut begging for relief. She made a face.
Hiytah laughed. “You have enough in your supplies? Or shall we forage for you?” He asked.
Bahabe said she had enough, and dug into her little meal with diligence. She sighed several minutes later and looked up for the first time since she’d begun eating. Clora was seated nearby, watching the stars. Hiytah had disappeared, and the others had never arrived. She thought they must be out foraging for themselves.
“We were going so fast,” she said to Clora. “I thought we might be there by now.”
The sarathi woman turned and smiled. “Time flows strangely in the course of the elements. I have skipped a thousand strides in a moment to go and soothe a forest fire, and yet have entered Katal on one full moon, and not finished circumscribing it until the next one. All we do is in service to these little parts of creation, and all the lots fall as they must.”
Bahabe nodded. She thought she understood. The sarathi served, or perhaps even were, the agents of nature’s vitality. Were they behind storms? Or volcanoes? Did they tend to the very magic she possessed?
And how am I connected to them? She asked herself. If I am one, why can’t I do the things they do?
She was about to ask Clora for more answers when she realized the woman had gone. There was a lone tree on a neighboring hill, and Bahabe thought she saw her swinging up into it, becoming lost among its branches and leaves.
A hand on her shoulder awoke her to a bright, hot morning. She sat up, stiff, thinking how exhausted she must have been to sleep through this heat and light. She’d spent the night on bare ground, uncovered, using her pack as a pillow.
“Mayhap you weren’t ready for that little jaunt yesterday?” Hiytah said from above her, raising an eyebrow. There were some red scratches on his right cheek, and though his voice was jolly, it seemed slightly strained. He offered her a hand and helped her up.
“Eat and gather yourself, then we strike out again. We should be able to reach M'bel'ata by dinner time!” Bahabe was going to question him about the marks on his face, but he dashed off into the grasses before she could.
She filled herself with an extra portion of her rations, reasoning that she could replenish them in M'bel'ata. As she ate, she kept looking around for her other sarathi companions, but it was only Hiytah that returned to whisk her away again, which he did before she had even become fully awake.
Their travel among the grasses was a blur to her, and as time rushed by she didn’t feel as if she ever really escaped the clouds of slumber. For most of the morning, Hiytah kept up a frantic pace - Bahabe could feel his urgency. They passed through a thunderstorm at midday, which was a strange sensation. Bahabe could feel the coolness of the water, the veins of electric heat in the storm clouds, but the wind and drops of water made no contact, as if she were insubstantial.
Hiytah finally slowed when the storm had passed and stopped not long after. Immediately Bahabe saw the sarathi town in the distance. The pull now was irresistible, like the senseless urge to throw oneself from a high place, and she had to fight herself not to run on ahead.
Hiytah smiled down at her, looking winded. A moment later, Dasha arrived, Clora and Fila in tow. Clora looked weary and a little pale, and Dasha had a long red mark across his abdomen.
“What happened?” Bahabe asked. “Where were you?”
Clora grimaced, but Fila fluttered over to Bahabe to answer.
“There were some Nulians roaming in one of their stinking wagons,” she sneered. “Spitting smoke and making noise wherever they went… nasty.”
“They seemed to be following us, or you,” Dasha said. Was that the first time she’d heard him speak? “Wherever we went, they were following, even if they couldn’t quite keep up.”
“Spireno has many dark magics,” Hiytah said grimly. “Though I don’t know why he would be tracking you, young one.”
Spireno must be their name for the Dark Man, she thought.
“Probably because I was close to Jon,” she said. “They’re terrified of him, after what he did in Anek.” She smiled inwardly to think of him in his might.
“In any case,” said Hiytah, “those scouts are no more. We should remain unaccosted, though they couldn’t find this town even if they wished to. Its enchantments are many, and strong.”
“What happened to Clora?” Bahabe asked, turning to study her.
“She healed my wounds,” said Dasha. “It taxed her greatly.”
Clora smiled weakly.
“Here,” Bahabe said, approaching her, “let me…” She lay her hands on the green-skinned woman and searched for her intense fatigue, drawing it out. Her own body tingled as if going numb, and she felt a long shudder of cold run through her as vitality seeped from her into Clora. The woman’s color brightened, and she sighed in relief. Hiytah shared a glance with his brother.
“Thank you,” she said, looking Bahabe in the eyes. She breathed in deeply. “Why don’t we all just walk from here? We should be safe now.”
It was agreed, and the little group began the final approach to the edges of M'bel'ata.
Entering the source of the pull at long last was like stepping into a hot spring after a day of hard work. Bahabe inhaled deeply, breathing it all in. For years, this place had been calling to her, and though she still didn’t understand why, she felt certain that coming here had been the right decision, almost like it was preordained. Wide-eyed, she took the place in.
The sarathi town was sprawling but otherwise quaint. Most of its structures were low to the ground, with no strict agreement in architectural style or ornamentation. Even here on the outskirts, Bahabe saw folks of many colors strolling through the streets or tending to their homes and gardens. Eventually, her little group came to the town’s main street, the hard, dusty ground of the plains here giving way to a wide road of red pavers.
Townsfolk looked up at the group as they passed, waving welcoming hellos, some taking a moment to scan Bahabe in particular. What was it about her that had them all so interested? Why would even her companions from the wil
d take the time to travel with her, and even speed her progress?
Clora diverged from the path to ask someone a question. It was odd, watching the wild wood sprite, uncovered, speaking with another sarathi that was dressed like a human. The townsperson betrayed no shock at Clora’s nakedness, answering her question and pointing down the street toward a pavilion in the distance. They shared a kiss on the cheek and parted ways.
“The Mistress’s house is this way,” Clora said, leading the way further down the street.
On the way they passed a few public gardens where sarathi were tending their plants and crops, and an interesting house sculpted out of carefully trained and guided tree limbs. Beyond that was something like an outdoor tavern where a few sarathi couples sat together, scents of tea and herbs wafting out across the street.
They came to the house shortly, a three-story manor made of large stone blocks, with a roof of red clay tiles. Wide windows let in the day’s ample sunlight, revealing a wood-paneled interior with deep red carpets. Something about the place felt homey, yet refined.
They had not even reached the house’s double doors when they swung open, and a tall, yellow-skinned woman stepped out onto the porch. She had a hand to her mouth, and she was weeping.
Chapter 17
Bonds
“I had always hoped,” the yellow woman sobbed, “but until you neared, I couldn’t know…” Her attention was fixed on Bahabe. She seemed caught between thoughts and impulses, wanting to come near, but holding back.
Her skin was not a pale yellow, but vibrant, and her waist-length hair was thick and white, with streaks of red. Her features were bold, mature, with deep-set brown eyes, and she wore a simple, loose-fitting blouse and skirt.
Bahabe, too, wanted to close the distance between them, but hesitated. There were so many unknowns in this moment.
Hiytah was the one who stepped forward, meeting the yellow woman with a slight bow. He took her hand and kissed it.
“Mistress M’bel’a,” he said. “Your city is every bit the wonder people say. Your streets and gardens and homes are a delight to look upon, and that’s saying something, coming from a wild one like me.”
M’bel’a smiled, and her shock dissipated a little.
“Yet none of it compares to the beauty and glory of the Lady of the town that bears her name,” Hiytah continued. “We are honored to meet you.” He kissed her hand again, and Bahabe caught Clora rolling her eyes.
“He’s always been good at this kind of thing,” Clora whispered to Bahabe.
Hiytah stepped back and held his arm out toward Bahabe.
“We’ve brought you a sister. Apparently she’s been searching for you for some time. Her name is Bahabe.”
M’bel’a stepped forward at last, as if Hiytah’s invitation had finally dispelled her surprise. She swept Bahabe up into a fierce hug, enveloping the girl in falls of white hair, and soft, strong arms. Bahabe returned the embrace, forgetting the mystery of all this and just giving in to the woman’s infectious swell of emotion.
M’bel’a broke the embrace and held her at arm’s length.
“My niece,” she said, as if to herself. “You’re my niece!”
The revelation carried with it a strong sense of relief, but also a bit of disappointment. Here was family, but not the mother or father Bahabe had often wondered about.
“You feel the bond, do you not?” M’bel’a answered. “All of us, though our colors may differ, are family, and the bond is strongest between close blood relations.”
“You’re saying that’s the pull I’ve felt all these years - a call to return home,” Bahabe said. She believed it, so why did she feel the need to question it? She thought of the power inside her - to feel, to see, to shape light. Where else could it have come from? “But how can I know?”
“The same way I do, Bahabe,” M’bel’a said. “We are sarathi. We trust our hearts.” She moved her gaze to Bahabe’s companions from the wild. “These friends you have acquired, do you think it was by accident?”
Bahabe hadn’t thought it all the way through, but no, she didn’t think it was all coincidental.
“Hiytah,” M’bel’a said, “what brought you to your forest sisters?”
Hiytah shrugged and smiled at Bahabe. “Feelings. I knew Clora was near and had something important with her. I wanted to see her and feel her skin.” Clora grinned.
“And what brought you to Bahabe, Clora?” M’bel’a asked.
“I sensed kin, felt her searching,” Clora said. “Fila may have brought some chaos along, breaking Bahabe’s vehicle, but that was the only thing coincidental about it”
“You see, Bahabe? It is the sarathi way to… flow, to follow the impulses of the heart into places we are needed. Many of us are truly wild, and couldn’t even grasp these concepts enough to discuss them. The great miracle of our existence is that the earth is served, even healed, through our actions. In a way, I can understand my father’s philosophy, however misguided he may have been.”
“My… grandfather?” Bahabe asked. “What do you mean?”
M’bel’a shook her head slowly. “Come,” she said, “all of you, come. Let’s go rest and eat inside. This poor girl must be greatly confused.”
She led them all into the house, where a silent footman ushered them down an entryway full of masterful paintings, to a large sitting room full of plush chairs and couches. A grand hearth filled a good third of the far wall, and wide windows looked out onto the lawn and street beyond.
“Melser, refreshments, please,” M’bel’a said to her footman. He nodded and disappeared deeper into the house.
“Tea and cakes are coming,” the Mistress said as everyone found a seat. Bahabe had settled into the center of a long couch, trying not to be swallowed by it. Hiytah and Clora sat with her on either side. Fila flitted about the room, inspecting everything, and Dasha perched alone on a chair. “Would any of you like a robe or cloak? I find many of my cousins are curious about clothing and wish to experience it.” It was an innocent offer - clearly M’bel’a was not bothered by her cousins’ nakedness.
Clora and Hiytah accepted the offer, but Dasha declined. Fila had landed in M’bel’a’s lap, and was inspecting the fabric of her clothing.
“Anything small enough for me?” she asked. M’bel’a chuckled and whispered something about dolls to her footman. He went off to fetch the clothes.
“So,” M’bel’a said, “ask me anything, Bahabe. I’ve got questions of my own, many questions, but you must have more.”
She did. Years of thoughts and questions, hopes and worries flooded her mind, tangling up like a pile of rope. She hardly knew where to begin. Then a heavy thought surfaced, something she wanted to know above all else.
“Where’s my mother,” she asked. When M’bel’a’s face fell, Bahabe’s heart sank with it.
“Your mother left us long ago,” M’bel’a said. “Before I’d become Mistress of the town, back when our father held my seat.”
She hesitated, breathing in. “It’s not really a good tale for a bright afternoon…” she started. Melser returned with a tray of sweet-smelling cakes and a pot of spiced tea. He poured for the Mistress and her guests.
“No,” Bahabe insisted, scooting forward on the couch. “Now that I know why I was drawn here, I have to know about her.” She hesitated, waiting for M’bel’a’s response. “I can guess what you’ll say, and no, I can’t eat or rest until I know.” The cakes smelled amazing, but it wasn’t time to eat yet.
M’bel’a smiled sadly. “Qeren was never one to brook delay, either.
“Our city was called Kerata in those days, after your grandfather. Because of our protective enchantments, it can be hard to match our history with that of the outside world, but this must have been around the time Spireno last sacked Centrifuge. A lone, injured soldier stumbled into town, surprising everyone. How could he get past the enchantments of confusion? No human ever had. He must have been touched by one of us, we thought, but b
y who? He fell to his knees before the first sarathi he met on the street, begging for healing, asking after Qeren. He said there had been a battle against the Nulians on the plains and he’d been left behind, unconscious. All he knew to do was try to find Qeren.”
Bahabe began to piece together the implications.
“His name was Derek, and he claimed he’d met Qeren in the wild, that he was in love with her, that he didn’t want to go on without her. He claimed she’d vowed herself to him during their time together, then run off suddenly. All this he confessed to anyone who would listen, while he bled from his wounds and wept from eyes glazed with shock. Someone agreed to fetch Qeren, and she came running to him, falling at his side and embracing him as she healed him.
“‘I told you not to come,’ she said, weeping with him, with the pain she’d taken in. ‘They won’t stand for it. He won’t.’”
“Kera,” Bahabe said. M’bel’a nodded.
“Our people are not true sarathi, you see. In ancient times the pure sarathi came to human men and women, to love them and know them, and we were born, a race in-between. There was wrath, a plague came upon us, perceived as punishment upon us for the ways in which we interfered with mankind. Yet not all were destroyed. Some of us came together in places like this town, while other half-bloods returned to the wild, in the hopes of reclaiming their original homes.
“Kera was a hard man, with strong ideals. He was of the belief that our bloodline should be thinned no further, and of the fear that further wrath would come upon us if it were.”
“So sarathi were forbidden to love humans?” Bahabe asked. She glanced at her companions, but they betrayed no shock or concern - they were simply listening to the story.
“One cannot really forbid sarathi of anything.” M’bel’a smirked. “It would be like telling the lion he must relinquish his pride, or a bird to nest in this tree and not that. But yes, Kera disapproved greatly, and he felt it his duty to control such deviant behaviors.
“But now Qeren had her man in her embrace, and she was unwilling to let him go,” M’bel’a’s attention seemed to drift a moment, her mind’s eye gazing into a distant time. She studied Bahabe with glistening eyes. “Goodness how you look like them.”
