Between Starfalls

by S Kaeth

  “What is it, Kaemada? And do not say ‘nothing’ this time!” Solarren growled in her ear.

  She put a finger to her lips. They were too close to the ambush to risk voices carrying. Kaemada turned to the group Ra’ael had entrusted to her and held up five fingers, then pointed in the direction of the ambush. Tapping the four best hunters on their shoulders, she pointed up to the trees. They could move in silence, branch to branch, to spring onto their enemy from above. She indicated the ferns to the other two, gesturing for them to crawl through the softer undergrowth. The five aeneshenon, she motioned to come with her.

  With measured, careful movements, she led them around the other side of the stand of elderwoods, the side nearest the den. Reaching out, her fingers brushed the fronds of a fern in passing. Tonight she could change the story of needing rescue in the same place where she’d once been rescued. Tonight she was needed, and she would be strong.

  They crept toward the clearing, silent but achingly slow. Kaemada reached out often to Tannevar to check their progress using his heightened senses. She winced every time he heard them from his hiding place, where he waited to ambush the ambushers. They were still out of arrow range when she sent the aeneshenon up into the trees.

  She wormed her way through the bushes, careful not to miss anything or give away their presence, and passed Tannevar the locations of the others. The wolf confirmed they should have the Darks surrounded, the intruders who stunk of sweat. Their scent pooled in the clearing, indicating they’d been waiting a long time. Well within arrow range, she finally saw them, moonlight gleaming on dark helmets and flashing on bared blades. She glanced upward to Solarren, who was perched on a sturdy tree limb, and nodded.

  With a roar, she rose, loosing arrows as swiftly as she could. From their hiding spots, her people attacked, crashing down on the Darks and screaming their anger. Tannevar moved in silence through the chaos, a shadow attached to flashing, white teeth. Kaemada shot a Dark that was attacking Solarren from behind, and then another who ran at her, though her arrow bounced off his armor. She had to dodge him, cracking him in the head with her bow and a telekinetic push as he passed. Another shot, and then another, and more Darks were on the ground. One of the Darks shoved Solarren into another man and fled.

  Kaemada leapt to the chase. The undergrowth thickened ahead, so she took to the trees, running along one broad limb of an elderwood before it tapered off, forcing her to leap to another. Even as she gained on the Dark, the trees began to thin. She fired arrows, but the underbrush foiled her. She had to get him. She refused to leave a Dark out here to work only the spirits knew what mischief. They’d ruined a night of celebration, of life. They’d killed Reion. She’d seen Shana and Taela clutching each other and weeping when she’d been in the Ellewyn. Taunos, Ra’ael, Takiyah, all of them had proved their heroism time and again. She couldn’t fail by letting a Dark escape, especially not one who was part of the ambush.

  They were nearing the large meadow just south of Galod’s clearing. Had it been only yesterday that she’d picked blueweed shoots there with Eian? Her knee shot warning pangs up her leg as she reluctantly dropped to the ground, the branches too far apart to continue using as a path. She gritted her teeth, pushing for more speed even as her knee protested in earnest. Racing through the undergrowth, she jumped onto one of the great rocky ledges that littered the forest, and leapt off. She’d lost him. No! She might catch sight of him once out of the underbrush.

  She hurdled over a log and into the meadow, crashing into the Dark, who rose just as she landed. A blaze of pain shot through her as the man plunged his knife deep into her stomach. A yelp sounded from far behind—Tannevar, struck down by the same pain through their bond. She cried out wordlessly, watching in disbelief as Tikatae pulled his knife from her stomach.

  Tikatae.

  Her bow dropped to the grass as she pressed her hands against her wound, desperately trying to keep her insides in, even as the warm blood leaked out around her fingers. The ground crashed hard against her knees, and tears blurred her vision.

  He was Fallen, cast out from her people. She’d never thought she’d see him again.

  Tikatae smirked down at her. “Well, now, this was rather easy. I thought you would be more challenging prey.”

  “Tikatae,” she gasped, fighting to breathe. She couldn’t focus. She had to focus! Spirits’ stories and songs, was she going to die? She couldn’t leave Eian behind. She couldn’t die at Tikatae’s hand, so close to the grove where he’d beaten her before. It all made sense now. Too late. Tikatae was why the group of Darks knew where to ambush them. Tikatae was working with them.

  She would not let him win so easily.

  “Did they get your brat? I told them the first arrow should be for him.”

  She strained to reach the knife in her boot, wincing. Her world was pain. Tears she didn’t remember crying wet her face, tears she didn’t remember crying. Gritting her teeth, she flung the knife at Tikatae, though the motion sent her face-first into the ground, pain consuming her. When next she could focus, Tikatae loomed over her, pulling her knife from his shoulder. He stepped on her arm, the new pain providing a counterpart to her stomach wound. She screamed.

  “This was all for you, you see. You should feel honored. But you…” His expression twisted. “You did not spare a thought for me, did you?”

  She saw his boot only moments before it struck her temple. Black sparks exploded across her vision. Her mouth filled with blood from where her tooth caught the inside of her cheek. It was the same as before. Hadn’t she promised herself she wouldn’t need saving? Taunos wasn’t here to rescue her, anyway.

  “No!” she screamed, wrenching herself away. She slammed out with her telekinesis, sending a low hanging tree branch into him.

  He staggered but laughed. “Well, I thought of you. And I will finish thinking of you soon enough. Right after I bury you and burn that kaetal to the ground.” He kicked her again.

  Stars of light burst across the darkness that crowded her sight. “You… destroyed… yourself.”

  She blinked, trying to see, vaguely aware she was losing too much blood. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was, but her body began to shiver. Kaemada shoved at the tree branch again, but he ducked, laughing.

  “No, no, no, my dear Kae. You destroyed me when you scorned me. Then they laughed me out of the kaetal, out of my home. This is all your fault.” He drew his boot back, but she curled up, and his boot hit her knee. The impact drove her skidding across the grass.

  “…cannot… force love!”

  “Too bad. You would have lived.” He flipped his knife in the air and caught it.

  Shaking with cold and terror and wrath, she gathered herself. If she could force her way past his mental defenses, she could strike at his very core, fill him with her own agony. She was losing too much focus. She had to do it on the first try. With a guttural yell, she hurled her telepathy at him like a heavy stone.

  She bounced right off him as if she’d run full force into a tree trunk. Something felt wrong, broken. Lost. She vomited onto the grass, pain ringing in her head. He kicked her again, and she flipped over, coughing, struggling to breathe.

  “You think I wasn’t ready for you? You’re pathetic. I anticipated your every move, you see? I anticipated your friends. And you, you never even thought of me. Well, think of me now!”

  His knife flashed down at her. Screaming in wordless denial, she forced her battered body to move, to roll away. Too slow, too slow! She wasn’t going to make it.

  Orb-shaped ripples flew over her head, striking Tikatae in the center of his chest and slamming him backward. More ripples followed, streaming past like a flood until Tikatae was no more than a shimmering, quivering mass.

  “Galod,” she croaked.

  “You, my student, would have failed this test had it been mine.”

  BAE

  Chapter Three

  It is easy to dismiss the Rinaryns as quaint savages, but as ever,
this is a good way to find oneself in danger through hubris. As I have no intention of that, I have discovered some abilities in the Rinaryns that those who deal with them must be aware of. Besides the wings, some Rinaryns have psionics—either telepathy or telekinesis, but never both. These, they say, hear the song of Eloí. The more mortal danger lies in those who dance the song of Eloí—the Rinaryn healers. Both psionics and “healing” have a genetic basis, as we’ve seen elsewhere. Psionics show up at a young age in Rinaryns, typically at age two or three. Healing shows up much later, usually around the age of fourteen. Of course, psionics and healing never occur in the same person, and on some level, the Rinaryns have discovered the danger, for the two are forbidden to intermarry. As we’ve seen elsewhere, both have a risk of overuse, and if the psion or healer overextend themselves, they’re unable to utilize their powers for some time.

  Rinaryns allow their healers considerable leeway and treat them with nearly as much honor as they do their winged ones. Perhaps because of their history (or this may be a handy excuse), they do not treat their psions with such honor.

  —journal excerpt

  Vague shadows moved around Kaemada, but she was cut off from them all, wrapped in feathers and clouds. Sometimes voices surrounded her, the breeze of people passing by caressing her. Other times pain gripped her, so intense she longed for nothingness, or heat filled her, so great she dreamed she had been cast into the central fires.

  “Mahkae! Mahkae! Ra’ael? Mahkae!” Eian’s distress pierced her cocoon, and she tried to reach for him, to comfort him, but she couldn’t move.

  Cold hands chilled her forehead.

  She slept or floated or time stopped spinning.

  Galod’s voice, shouting. She cringed instinctively from his wrath. “Get in there now, or so help me, I will bring down torment on you the likes of which you have never seen! Go, blast you, and do the one thing that justifies your existence!”

  That made no sense. Galod never came to the kaetal. She must be dreaming.

  “Galod, you must stop insulting my healers.” Maeren’s voice.

  She tried to escape from the excessive heat, twisting in her smothering dreams. At last, she relaxed into the strangeness. There didn’t seem to be anything else to do.

  “Zeroun, they must heal her. They could pay Ra’ael more attention as well,” Galod said.

  “She refused, and healers are under Maeren’s authority. You should know that, old friend.”

  Maeren and Zeroun were talking to Galod? What a strange dream.

  “Are you going to add her to your pile of dead?”

  “Do not come at us wagging that tongue like a weapon,” Maeren said. “We know you too well. Now, take your own advice and let the healers look at your arm.”

  Galod snorted. “As if I would let them touch me.”

  “The wolf bit you deep. At least take the healing salve. You bandaged the wound well, right?”

  “I’m fine, Maeren. I’m not the one you should be concerned about.”

  “I have enough concern to go around. How is it different, you not wanting healing and her not wanting healing?”

  “She’s not me, and I’m not dying. She is. Heal her, if only a little,” Galod said.

  Yes, definitely a dream. There was no way Galod would sound desperate. He was only ever angry or disappointed or, rarely, satisfied.

  More shouting floated past, but feathery nothingness blocked the sound. It was too hard to pick out the words. She was so tired. Warmth suffused her. Not the cooking heat of the fire, but a gentle wash that soothed her aches. It took her a moment to understand.

  They were healing her.

  She thrashed and fought, though strong arms gripped her. The healers’ gift was like a cup full of cool water, while the wounded were like thirsty men. There was only so much to go around. She could hold on a little longer. Her wounds were her own folly. How could she bear it if someone died because she drank? Especially Ra’ael.

  Finally, her cocoon returned, soothing in its silence and peace. She slept.

  Eventually, Kaemada managed to snag consciousness and hold on. She peeled open her eyes. It was all so strange; she was in her home, but everything looked different, disconnected somehow. Several others lay along the curved walls, bandages over various wounds. The rainshield had been drawn back to let the afternoon sun light the interior. She nearly leapt off her bedmats when her arm brushed against the wolf, but the movement triggered stabbing pain in her head and stomach. Tannevar. She hadn’t realized he was there. She always knew where he was with just a brush of a thought. She trembled, reaching out for him. Nothing. He curled tighter into a ball, ears flattened.

  She looked around herself more cautiously. Her bedmats were laid just to the left of the doorway, in Taunos’s spot, with another set—Eian’s—laying just beside hers. Ra’ael lay on a set of bedmats beyond Eian’s. Beside her knelt Teros, though he turned to give her a withering look. Solarren crouched among the food and medicinal supplies near the fire, seeming uninjured. Seated on an oddly carved stump between Ra’ael and Kaemada, Galod watched her with sharp grey eyes. His face seemed cut from stone, and a book lay closed in his lap, one finger marking his place.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  The beating she’d taken rushed back. Shame filled her. She had lost yet again—had needed saving yet again. Could she face Tikatae another time? He had nearly killed her. He’d nearly killed Eian. And she hadn’t been able to stop him. Fear trembled through her, its grip paralyzing.

  “Tikatae! Is he—”

  “Dead.”

  Breath gusted out of her, and she shivered, wincing as the tremors awoke pain. Her odd dream came back to her, and she raised her head, squinting at him. “Galod… why are you here?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. Avoiding his gaze, she looked at Tannevar, who watched them with his nose twitching. She extended a hand to the wolf, and he let out a sigh, laying his muzzle in her hand, and closing his eyes.

  “Galod?” her voice quavered, and she tried again. “Galod, I cannot feel Tannevar.”

  “He’s lucky to be alive. You both are.”

  “Ra’ael! I dreamed… Is she alright?”

  “She’s in better shape than you are, fighting off the healers.”

  She stared at him. She didn’t hurt nearly as bad as she should, given her injuries. Her tone lowered. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Five days.”

  Five days. Only two days until they left for the journey up the mountains. She should be in much more pain than she was. She fixed her gaze on Galod. “They healed me.”

  He nodded. She trembled. Surely others had been hurt worse than she, others who could have used the gift they’d used for her.

  “No!” she shouted. “No! How many died because of me? How many could the healers have saved? I did not need healing!”

  “Zero. Zero. You were dying.” Galod remained impassive.

  Kaemada furrowed her brow, looking from Galod to Solarren as he came and crouched beside her with a cup of water. Tannevar grumbled as the aenesheno crowded the wolf to be farther from Galod. “No one else died?”

  “Only those beyond help,” Galod said.

  “Who are you to decide who lives or dies?”

  “I am Galod, and I am wise. Your wound became tainted and made you gravely ill. Your mind-case swelled past its bounds. I had the healers heal you slightly, twice.”

  Had she been that close to death? Kaemada shook her head and looked at Solarren. “How many died?”

  “Thirty-and-one.” Solarren looked down, his wings drooping with grief. “Three were aeneshenon.”

  “Thirty-and-one dead,” she repeated. Thirty-and-one people no longer drew breath, while she who failed in combat with a single Dark survived. Three of their precious aeneshenon gone. Ra’ael sighed in her sleep and shifted, and Kaemada looked at her. With so many bandages, she must have succumbed to the blood rage.

  It didn’t seem right.
The grief sickened her, and guilt weighed her down. Tikatae had come there for her, yet she had survived when so many others had not. And it wasn’t because of any talent on her part.

  She glanced down, mumbling, “You should not have had them heal me.”

  “One does not throw away a precious resource simply because it’s damaged, not if it’s within one’s power to save. Would you prefer death?”

  “No.” What would Eian do without her?

  Solarren placed his hand on her uninjured arm. “Shareil, Kaemada. You saved our lives from the ambush, and we were able to help the others drive away the Darks.”

  Kaemada shook her head. “It’s not enough.”

  Not weighed against her failure. Not weighed against the deaths of those she loved.

  Solarren squeezed her arm and offered her the cup again. “It’s enough that you live. Our kaetal needs you. You helped my brother and me see sense last summer, and I owe you my thanks once again for sending those wagons to Tanelwith with my brother’s children.”

  She took the cup and forced a smile, mostly to make him go away. But his words persisted even as he left the hut. Shoving away her sorrow and pain, she snatched for more hopeful notes for her song. Yes, they had suffered grievous losses, just like Tanelwith, but they were Rinaryn. Nothing could stop their song.

  “Ameyitum.” The apology dropped from her lips in a croak. How could she explain? “I failed, Galod. Again.”

  “What was your mistake?”

  “I fell into Tikatae’s trap. He knew exactly what I would do. I could not shoot him—too much cover. My psionics failed. My knee is always a liability in combat.”

  “You should have shot Tikatae on sight.”

  “I did not know it was him!”