by Mara Duryea
“You’re mine. I hunted for you, and you accepted what I offered. You belong to me, and I belong to you.”
Velevy gazed at her knees as she contemplated this bizarre turn of events. “You mean…” She sniffled. “You mean you lured me with meat?”
Terros smirked. “Yeah.”
Velevy started laughing, and she threw her arms around Terros’s neck.
They were married under a flower tree.
Gilanra
1
Into the Library
Golden Sun had given way to Evening Sun’s softer shadows. Small stars poked through the sky’s darkening canvas where pink and purple melded into blue. A bright glow shined behind the western ruins, and the golden flowers were closing for the night. The cooking fire smoldered in its ashes.
Zhin rubbed his chest as if in pain. “I don’t know what’s wrong with my dad right now. It doesn’t make any sense. I need water.” He remembered they hadn’t utilized the Blue Bush because of the incident with the tug. “And I’m going to wash.”
“I think I will wash, too,” said Ikalkor, standing up. He began fanning himself with the smoke.
“What in Cubons are you doing?” said Vijeren.
Ikalkor lifted his chin. “Smoke cleans you off, didn’t you know that?”
Sibare’s face twisted up. “No, it doesn’t.”
“That’s how everybody in Bellecaro stayed clean.”
“No, they weren’t,” said N’Nar.
Ikalkor sniffed. “That is your opinion. Besides, if people smelled the Blue Bush on us, they think we wanderers and try for to do something to us.”
“There’s nobody around,” said Sibare.
“I rather smell like smoke.”
Zhin’s face saturated with disgust. Waving Ikalkor away, he marched to the river. Vijeren, Sibare and N’Nar glanced at one another and then hastened after Zhin. Better to smell like a murderous wanderer than to stink like Ikalkor, who literally had patches of green fur dotting his emaciated body.
Rilkin realized Miranel couldn’t pass through life like Ikalkor. She eternally smelled like candy, but she was virtually a wild girl. He was certain she wasn’t as wrecked as Zhin had been, but she was headed that way, with no excuse.
“Miranel, come.” He took her hand and led her to the river.
Each person chose a designated spot to bathe: well out of sight of everyone else. Vijeren couldn’t figure why Rilkin didn’t mind bathing Miranel. It was so bizarre. Oh well, better Rilkin do it than Vijeren. The boy scrubbed himself clean, chuckling as the gel crackled across his skin, like tiny fingers attempting to administer a massage.
“Vijeren,” Zhin called.
“What?”
“Wash your clothes.”
“Okay.” Vijeren lathered the rags up and then listened to them pop like burning wood. It was high time his clothes got burned. The hole in his shirt where the Tracker had stabbed him gaped at him. The memory of its rough claws sinking through flesh and muscle made his skin crawl. How he’d prayed for Zhin to come to his aid through that nightmarish night!
Vijeren enjoyed sharing a room with his dad. Whenever he suffered a nightmare about those hellish days, Zhin woke and comforted him.
The boy swam around while waiting for his clothes to properly soak. His mind wandered over the hills and valleys of Zhin’s story. There were things he didn’t understand. He’d have to ask his dad about them. Zhin hadn’t fully explained the tug. Rezh had been about to inform Rindar about something. Did he ever tell him?
Vijeren glanced at the empty towers, recollecting the bloodhearts in Zhin’s story. Bloodhearts had infested Bellecaro. They weren’t that far from Bellecaro, as far as bloodhearts were concerned. The ones from Visseria had followed him and Sibare all the way to Merisyliss. Chills shivered through his frame. He quickly rinsed and donned his clothes. Scrambling onto the bank, he hurried to find his dad.
The Berivor was already cleaned and dressed. He sat on the bank, letting the current rock his feet to and fro. He gazed into the darkening forest. Hearing Vijeren’s step, the Berivor held his arm out to him. Vijeren plopped down next to Zhin, who rested his hand around his shoulders.
Zhin’s mind drifted to the awful night of Vijeren’s passing. Those ugly wounds radiating with black veins loomed like horrific specters. How Vijeren was alive lay beyond the pale of his comprehension. Sometimes he feared his child had died and this was a different Vijeren, but it was him.
Nobody could mimic his light and help form the blood sword. There was also N’Nar to confirm his soul. If Zhin ever felt his son stop breathing again, he knew in his bones that he’d end up in a Kosalin. For the first time, he’d understood his mom and dad’s incomprehensible pain at losing him. He knew why they clung to him, lived so close to him, and why the tug was in such panic. He still had no source for it, though.
“Why do you have a tug?” said Vijeren.
Zhin’s chest tightened. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Did Rezh ever tell Rindar?”
“Yeah.”
Vijeren swiveled his head up at the Berivor. “Why are you upset?”
“It’s just my tug.” Zhin rubbed his chest. “And…well, you’ll see.”
Miranel squealed in glee. Zhin and Vijeren beheld nothing but a mass of blue bubbles sitting on the river wall, kicking its feet.
“It tickles my toes!” it said.
Rilkin’s laughing face was just visible over the surface of the water.
N’Nar’s long step sounded behind them. “Hello.”
“Sit down, N’Nar,” said Zhin.
The Sirilith settled on Zhin’s other side and dipped his feet in the water.
“How’s your chest?” said Zhin, observing the cuts and bruises from the Kosalin spider beneath the dripping vestiges of N’Nar’s clothing.
“It’s better,” said N’Nar, “but if I start running, it hurts to breathe.”
“You never told me that. So it was hurting when we went to get Vijeren, and when we ran from the cannibals?”
“Yeah, but I was too excited both times. I only noticed it after it got quiet.”
Zhin eyed him sharply. “Is there anything else you’ve been keeping quiet about?”
N’Nar fidgeted. “Well, it still kind of hurts to swallow.”
“Did the meat hurt you?”
“Not really…a little bit. Ever have a really bad sore throat?”
Zhin sighed in exasperation. “Why’d you eat it if it hurt so much?”
“It was meat.” That was all the explanation needed.
A tune whistled on the air, drawing Zhin’s attention. The melody transported him into the past, when his mother sang to him when he was upset. She’d hummed a certain song she’d brought with her from the ocean. In fact, it was the same song. Zhin glanced at Rilkin, but the Antiminar was blowing bubbles with Miranel. Who in Cubons was whistling his childhood song?
Sibare.
Zhin turned around in search of that mind-reading Perilith. A jolt of apprehension shot through his breast. What else had he Read?
The whistling stopped, and the boy appeared. He glanced at N’Nar, whose face had become as expressionless as stone. Had the Sirilith been in league with Sibare? Why would they do this? No, no, the shirtless Sibare hadn’t Read him. Zhin hadn’t felt the flicker in his eyes.
“Hi, Dad,” said Sibare with a smile.
“Where did you hear that tune?” said Zhin, point-blank.
Sibare stiffened. “Uh…I…”
Before he could divine a lame excuse, Miranel darted over in full bubble regalia and hopped on the bank.
“Agh!” Vijeren grabbed his head. “Where’s your clothes?”
“Rilkin!” Zhin shouted. “Get the baby!”
A chuckling Rilkin staggered over with her dripping dress. He dunked her in the water and pulled the frock over her head.
“I sorry,” said Rilkin, still smirking. “I not know what the minamee thinks about.”
; “Does she?” squeaked Vijeren. “I’ve seen things I can’t unsee!”
“Is just minamee,” said Rilkin.
“A butt-naked minamee wearing bubbles!” Vijeren sat down in despair. “I’ll never be the same again.”
Vijeren’s family chortled at his trauma and couldn’t stop.
“Miranel,” said Sibare, “I think Vijeren needs a kiss!”
Miranel squealed in delight and descended.
“Aaaghhh!” Vijeren flew up Zhin’s arm and hugged his head.
“What in Cubons are you doing?” Zhin cried.
An eerie wail cut the air and lasted for several seconds before dying long and low. The companions stared in silence from whence it came. Zhin realized he’d hunted the paveenie in that direction.
“Get in the library,” he said in dead calm.
The companions darted silently towards the safe haven.
“Where’s Ikalkor, N’Nar?” said Zhin.
“He’s shivering by the pot.”
“Oh, come on.”
As they approached the pot, Zhin spotted Ikalkor huddled beside it, gripping his emaciated ears. Nobody knew how Berivor ears could be emaciated, but they were. When Vijeren approached near on Zhin’s shoulders, Ikalkor squealed and dashed in the opposite direction.
Mumbling vile things under his breath, Zhin shot after his smelly brother. He reached out to grab his arm, but it had turned green. His hand making a quick detour, it snatched Ikalkor’s ear.
“Aie! Aie! Aie!” Ikalkor squawked.
“Shut up!” Zhin hissed. “There’s a haladon out here. Get in the library.”
“But Vijeren!”
Zhin dragged him into the stairwell. “He’s not dead, but all of us will be if you don’t shut up!” Zhin would have covered Ikalkor’s mouth, but he wouldn’t be able to purge his hand later, and then he might accidentally rub his eye. Things could get septic from there.
The stairwell reeked of Ikalkor by the time they reached the library. Zhin immediately released him and shut the door. The Metirins had waited at the bottom. They jumped back from Ikalkor as he made his squealing way through them.
“Does whatever made the howl have a good sense of smell?” said Sibare, as if their lives were over already.
Zhin snorted as he set Vijeren down. “No, but they can see really well. It was a haladon.”
Vijeren’s face brightened up. “A haladon?”
“We’ll be safe under here, as long as nobody makes any piercing screams. Vijeren, stay away from Ikalkor. I saw you perched on the bookshelf over his couch this morning.”
Vijeren smiled, as if recalling a sweet memory.
“He’s so pretty,” Miranel breathed.
The boy started in disgust. “I am not!”
“You walk on light, Vijeren.”
Vijeren held Sibare’s gaze for a few seconds as utter mortification set in. Without a word, he strolled into the aisles, glancing at his feet every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t spewing a gleaming trail.
Zhin bit on his finger as his shoulders shook. “Uh, Miranel, are you and Rilkin going to read?”
Miranel snapped back into reality and turned to Rilkin. “What are we reading tonight?”
“Let’s go see,” said Rilkin.
The two pranced off to their favorite reading spot under the stairs. Zhin, Sibare, and N’Nar burst into fits of laughter.
***
Zhin sprawled across his couch, slowly forming a new blood pendant. Last time, it had taken him a couple of weeks fashioning two. It had required a lot of blood, patience, and special Cedrite words to repel a bloodheart’s spell. Iskerkin blood twisted into a dagger was dead. To keep it live, but separated from him, required some skill.
“Akrixa,” Zhin whispered as he veiled a thin layer of blood over the gleaming lump in his hand. He blew fire from his mouth to harden it. The bright red blood inside swirled with life.
“Wow!” Vijeren cried, dropping his book on haladons. Thump! The book was as big as a haladon itself. Vijeren could have curled up under it without a trace. The boy jumped next to Zhin and leaned on his stomach. “Can you do that all the time?”
“Not for fighting,” said Zhin, setting the live mass on the shelf behind the couch. “When the bloodheart breathed on your face, I put fire in your mouth to wake you up. I did the same to Sibare. It’s for making things like blood pendants and stuff like that.”
Vijeren observed the lump. “You’re making a blood pendant now?”
“Yeah.” Zhin laced fingers behind his head. “I’m planning on three: one for you, Sibare, and Miranel. It’s been safe here, but you never know.”
The little N’hai thought of the bloodhearts in Bellecaro again. “They didn’t go after Miranel last time.”
“She was soulless like them last time.”
“Oh.” The bloodhearts could eat her now. “Do you think she’ll taste like candy?”
Zhin’s face screwed up. “I wonder about you, Vijeren.”
The boy chuckled.
“We all do,” said Sibare, striding in like he was Mejirin of the library. He threw himself on Vijeren’s cushion. “Great Cubons, why’s your cushion softer than mine?”
“Because you smashed yours into oblivion practicing all your bellyflops,” said Vijeren with a smirk.
Zhin sat up, and Vijeren hopped over his legs to lean against the couch back. “How did you know that song?”
“Oh.” Sibare decided to just confess. “Okay, I Read you, but it didn’t hurt.”
Zhin’s gaze hardened. “What else did you Read?”
Sibare squirmed. “Nothing.” Maybe he should have stayed in his room. Sometimes he wished he could Read his own future. Mostly he wished for more common sense.
“Don’t lie to me.”
Sibare looked hurt at the accusation. “I didn’t. That was the only time.”
“I bet it wasn’t,” said Vijeren.
Sibare shot him a scathing glare.
Zhin sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Enough has happened.”
Sibare’s defiance faded. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help you.”
“Was that all?”
“Yeah.”
“And N’Nar, was he in on it, too?”
Sibare scratched his arm. “Um…he didn’t know exactly what I was going to do.”
“What did you tell him?”
Sibare sighed. “I told him I knew something that would cheer you up, but I told him to leave me alone, because I wasn’t about to perform in public. He was going to tell me how you felt.”
Something didn’t sit right with that last, but Zhin couldn’t pinpoint it. Maybe it was nothing. No, it was something. He needed to contemplate this when it was quieter.
Vijeren tilted his head. “Why’d you come in here, Sibare? To get caught?”
Sibare kicked his foot at Vijeren as a grin forced its way to his lips. “I was wondering something.” He folded his hands on his stomach. “Did Kappi have worms?”
“That’s what we figured,” said Zhin. “Why?”
“That means she’s out in the forest somewhere like that. If she dies and something eats her, what then?”
Zhin rubbed his chest with his fist as the tug yanked. “Then there’ll be an epidemic of mad animals.”
Vijeren’s eyes rounded. “What if the haladon goes mad? They have a life span of a thousand years. The one that killed this place could be the one we heard today.” He gasped. “There could be a haladon cave under the city! There’s no reason for a haladon to attack a city unless it was clearing a place to dig its den.”
“That explains why there are no predators,” said N’Nar through the books from his room. He crawled through a cleared space in the shelves and sat on the floor between the the couch and the cushion. He’d deemed it safe to come out, now that Sibare had been caught. “We were able to go out in the forest after dark to get Vijeren.”
&nb
sp; Sibare nodded. “And we can still go out in the day.”
“Or could,” added N’Nar. “The haladon has come back now.”
Tucking his feet up, Zhin grabbed his head and rested it on his ankles.
The three brothers laughed.
“You look like an egg!” said Vijeren.
Zhin chuckled into his feet and sat up. He glanced at the three Metirins and thought fleetingly of how natural it felt to have all three brothers there.
“Dad,” said Sibare, deciding this time was as perfect as any to reveal why he’d come, “what’s your mom like?”
The Berivor’s head tilted. “My mom?”
“She actually sounds like a nice person.”
With a jolt, Zhin realized Vijeren, Sibare, and N’Nar didn’t have a mother worthy of the title. What woman did they know? Boys tended to go after a woman like their mother, no matter how detestable she was. He suddenly visualized an awful future choked with Sathillas lusting after their own sons. Great Cubons! Part of being a father meant teaching his children the right way.
Sibare was seventeen. Zhin knew he was thinking about women. After Vijeren got over his haladon kick, he’d start wondering about girls, if he wasn’t already. N’Nar was of age, but thank goodness he’d lost his mind. Zhin could paint a new standard for him. He’d do it now.
“I’ll tell you about her,” said Zhin.
Vijeren shivered with excitement. “It’s long?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait, wait!” The boy hurried away and returned with Rilkin, Miranel, and armfuls of pillows. They gave one to N’Nar. The air was alive with excited curiosity. Nobody had expected an extra story. They positioned themselves in a rough semi-circle around Zhin. The Berivor didn’t imagine Ikalkor would come, and so he began.
“My mom used to live at the bottom of the sea.”
2
The Sun Ceremony
Gilanra glided through the early morning hours towards the memorials outside the village. Smooth pebbles marked the venerated hill where hundreds of fifteen-foot rock spirals paid homage to the fallen warriors of the Sinitar tribe. She knelt in the soft sand before a spiral at the bottom of the hill. Her finned tail waved in the gentle current like dozens of blue banners.
