by S Kaeth
The grief and fear on Ra’ael’s face pained her to see, and Kaemada forced a smile. “This is the only way. Even so, our kaetal may not have an offering. We will use much of the supplies along the way.”
“I told you she wouldn’t change her mind,” Takiyah said, coming around the side of the wagon.
Ra’ael scowled.
Summoning all her confidence, Kaemada reached out and squeezed Ra’ael’s hand. “Farewell, and safe journey.”
A nod and a return squeeze was her reply, as Ra’ael’s throat bobbed. The priestess always struggled when things were out of the ordinary. Kaemada forced another smile as she turned away, Eian’s hand warm in hers.
“I have those satchels you had packed over here,” Takiyah said, pointing as she fell in step alongside them.
“Thank you, Kiy.”
A sense of awe filled her as they approached, for there stood Shareilon, waiting by the supplies. He nickered when he saw her, tossing his noble head, and she stroked his soft nose, whispering her gratitude.
She tied string around the clay pot to hold the lid on securely and then nestled it in one of the packs. With Takiyah’s help, she climbed on Shareilon’s back, pushing aside her worries. She and Eian would make it. There was no other option. Takiyah lifted Eian and seated him in front of Kaemada while Shareilon pranced.
Arranging the packs to evenly distribute the weight, Takiyah scolded, “You know, you might be the worst person ever to prepare for a journey! I looked at what you packed, and it might have been enough—for a day trip!”
Kaemada frowned. She had made sure the bags would not be too heavy. “What do you mean?”
“You did not pack nearly enough food. There are two of you, and you need extra in case we take longer than usual to get to Talahn Valley. You may be waiting for us!”
Scowling, Kaemada took a deep breath. “The food was for Eian. More than enough, see? I was planning to fast on the journey. My way to atone for not journeying with the rest of you.”
“You do not have to do this,” Takiyah said.
Kaemada shook her head, and Takiyah grew stern again. “Well, what use will you be to Eian if you faint from fasting while injured and travelling? I packed more food, so be sure to eat it. And I put in more blankets for you. It will be cold in the mountains. And there’s a knife with a sharpening stone, extra water pouches, a bowl so you two can wash, fire makers so you do not freeze to death, extra bandages because you will have to tend your wounds, extra salve, and some bitter root for pain.”
“My thanks, Kiy.” She’d already packed some blankets and bandages, and she had her fire makers in her belt pouch, but she didn’t point that out, not wanting to fight. It was true she’d forgotten some little things—she often depended on Ra’ael and Takiyah to remember small details. She took a deep breath. She could do this.
Takiyah arranged the bags to evenly distribute the weight and handed Kaemada a length of cord. “It will be windy. Tie back your hair so you can see.”
Trying not to flush further, Kaemada did as she was told.
Takiyah looked them over once more, then nodded and stepped back just as Shareilon stretched his wings and resettled them. Her expression melted into a smile, though worry shone in her green eyes. “Safe travels. And no flying lessons!”
Eian grinned and waved wildly, and Kaemada chuckled. She cast out with her mind to let Tannevar know they would soon be leaving. So bonded to the wolf was she that they could not be far apart without causing them both pain, so Tannevar also made the journey twice a summer, with them but apart at the same time. A mental thrill answered her—Tannevar, eager for the run.
Shareilon shifted restlessly as the kaetalyn moved past them: the alanshorn leaning into their harnesses, scouts on horseback riding alongside the wagons, and people on foot laden with packs. Kaemada kept the smile on her face, imagining their path. They would go westward along the winding trail up the hill and past the Ellewyn, then through the prairie of gently waving grasses taller even than the scouts on horseback. Finally, they would curve southward toward the Holy Mountains once they approached the border of Life Valley. They would have to cross the Lí Rires to get to the mountains, but by going westward first, they could cross where the river was slower and shallower.
Music swelled around them, lifting spirits like the rising sun. Adults sang, and children joined in as they remembered the ritualistic songs with their marching beat. Above them, the aeneshenon dove and spun in intricate arcs, celebrating the beginning of the journey, although they would land to walk before long. The people of Torkae filed past, no more than four abreast, until they were gone, leaving behind a line of trampled grasses in their wake.
Kaemada tangled Eian’s hand in Shareilon’s mane. “A pegasus ride isn’t something to be taken lightly, nor ever forgotten. Drink it in well and hang on tight.”
With a snort and a toss of his head, Shareilon surged into a gallop, trailed by the wolf as he came bolting from the forest after them. Shareilon stretched his wings wide and, muscles straining, forsook the ground for the sky. Kaemada tightened her arms around her son as they became suddenly, strangely, airborne. Exhilarated laughter bubbled out of her as the ground dropped away farther and farther below them.
The air was cool as they soared upward, and the wind streamed past with a force that threatened to unseat them. Any higher and it would have torn their breath from their mouths. Kaemada held tightly with her knees and pulled the edges of her cloak tighter around Eian with one hand while the other clung securely to Shareilon’s mane. She could only see the side of Eian’s face, but nothing could hide his beaming smile.
Tannevar soon lagged behind, though their bond thrummed with the joy of the challenge even through his exhaustion and the soreness of her stomach. Kaemada had to stop Shareilon several times as her bond with Tannevar stretched to the point of pain, like an overextended limb. Her wounds demanded frequent breaks. Still, she pushed on as quickly and for as long as she could, hoping to minimize the chance of encountering Angels. If they hurried, they could camp only that night inside the Angels’ range, rather than tomorrow night as well. Their speed had brought them far beyond her people, and they landed for the evening in the shadow of the foothills.
Kaemada crouched to unpack the food while Eian explored, careful to stay on the path. The pegasus had no such qualms, grazing on the grass beside the trail.
“We will not have a fire tonight, Eian. It’s too dangerous. But look, we have blankets, my cloak, and I even brought my brother’s cloak. If we fold it up, it suits you,” she said, wrapping the soft warm fabric around the boy as he returned to her. Eian grinned, and she smiled, tweaking his nose where it peeked out among the folds of cloth.
Kaemada’s body was on fire, and she felt stretched apart with Tannevar lagging at the very edge of their bond. She gingerly sat, praying Ra’ael was faring better than she, and hoping Takiyah and Ra’ael didn’t get in too many arguments. They disagreed enough during the best of times, but with Ra’ael likely irritable, those two would mix like sparks and dry grass. Hoping once again for their safety, she motioned Eian to stop exploring and come sit next to her.
“Be sure not to wander off,” she murmured to him, kissing the top of his head. “You must never leave the trail. Not ever.”
Eian snuggled closer. “Tell me about the Kamalti?”
“Hmm, the Kamalti. That’s an interesting story choice, acha’iyih.”
“‘Dear little one’,” mumbled Eian absently. Then he scowled. “I’m not little!”
“Why did you translate that?” Kaemada gave him a puzzled look.
He shrugged, laying his head on her shoulder. “But I’m not little.”
She prodded him but got no answer, so she sighed and began the story. “Long, long ago, our people began our existence at the same time as the Kamalti. We had many disagreements and misunderstandings. Our people love light and openness, so it was natural for us to choose to live in the hills and lowlands. The Kamalti love the dark, secr
et places, and they chose to live here, in the Holy Mountains. Once they each found a place that suited them, our two peoples became friends, but these days, no Rinaryn has seen a Kamalti for many, many generations. Many believe they’re only legends. Some think that way back in the time of Torkaema and Naran, the Kamalti were so grieved by our people fighting each other they drew back and have been hiding ever since.”
“Torkae.”
“Yes, our kaetal was founded by and named for Torkaema. The ideas that became our way of life came to him in Talahn Valley, the Valley of the Seeker Tree. Ideas like the Council of Elders and that no kaetal should hold greater than one thousand people.”
“How did he get the ideas?”
Kaemada smiled, looking around them. “Perhaps the spirits spoke to him. Perhaps even the Kamalti had a part in his formation of these ideas. We do not know. But the Kamalti keep the paths for us, provided we never, never leave them. There are great dangers out there, from the land and from animals. Some believe the Kamalti are dangerous, with their traps and pitfalls, but I believe the Kamalti are our friends of old, upholding their end of the ancient agreement they made with our people.”
As the sun sank slowly below the horizon, Tannevar caught up with them, his tongue lolling. Kaemada and Eian shared a meal of jerky, cheese, bread, and water with the wolf, while behind them, Shareilon grazed. Catching the sound of something on the wind, Kaemada put her finger to her lips. In the stillness, the songs of a multitude of people drifted to their ears from a distance, and Kaemada smiled through a pang of sadness at being separated from them.
“Tell me of the Angels,” Eian said.
The sky was cloudless, ideal for the Angels. And here they were, without the support of the kaetal to join their voices for protection. She pushed her worries away. It would only be one night. “Do you not remember from the last journey? They hunt with song, weaving a tune that entices the prey to look for them. Any who look at an Angel will be frozen in place and eaten. That’s why we sing the counter-song and stay behind a barrier for safety. Tonight, we will likely hear the Angels, but by tomorrow night, we should be beyond their range. You must follow directions, acha’iyih.”
The sun’s last rays disappeared behind the hills, leaving the sky’s blanket to the two moons and the stars as they spun in their nightly dance. Shareilon raised his head, then spread his wings and took off, sending her a vague warning. Kaemada clustered their supplies together and made sure they were all on the trail.
Below, the song of their people faded away. Kaemada wrapped a blanket around herself and Eian for warmth, then covered them all with her cloak just as the haunting song of the Angels graced their ears. Melody and multiple harmonies surrounded them, wrapping them in sonorous heights and depths. The otherworldly music pulled at them to come forth and gaze upon the singers, and Kaemada fought it with the counter-tune, humming the wild music as loudly as she could.
Eian squirmed, tugging at the top of the blanket. Kaemada hugged him tightly with one arm, pulling him farther under cover as she hummed the counter-song more loudly, more desperately.
You must never look upon the face of an Angel, or you will die! she sent him mentally, breaking the boy’s privacy to save his life. A shiver ran up her back as a part of her wondered how the Angels would react to such an unusual occurrence, just the three of them on their own.
The music grew nearer until it seemed the Angels surrounded them. One must be hovering near them as it sang. With her arms full with Eian and Tannevar, the blanket sagged, exposing them to the Angel’s gaze. Kaemada kept her eyes downcast, watching Eian through her lashes as she belted out the counter-tune. She covered his face with one hand, her other hand over Tannevar’s face. The Angel’s bronze feet hovered closer, and the wind from its wingbeats tugged at her hair. Her skin tingled with the nearness of the Angel. The urge to look up was almost unbearable, even as she sang the counter-tune.
Eian pulled away, drawn to the Angel. How long could she hold him back? How long could she herself resist the call? Her arms were beginning to tremble, and Tannevar was pressing himself into her leg, though she could feel his need to look.
She called out telepathically with all her strength to the Angel. We mean you no harm. We are not for eating. At the same time, she kicked the blanket back over their heads.
The back of her neck prickled as Eian piped up, his words nearly lost in the Angel’s wing-beats. “We mean you no harm! We are not for eating!”
She looked over at him. Her heart skipped a beat. He was staring at the Angel from around the blanket. Throwing herself over him, she knocked him to the ground and shielded him with her body.
The wing-beats moved off, the Angel rejoining its group and heading for the foothills. Kaemada rose cautiously to her knees, her body afire with pain. Behind her, Tannevar shook out his fur, pacing a circle around them.
“Eian!” she folded him into a tight embrace until he wiggled and squirmed in protest. “Eian, I told you not to look at them! You could have died!”
“I did not get frozen. I did not get dead.”
“Eloí’s light, Eian, I cannot explain it. No one talks to the Angels!”
“You did. You did with your mind.”
Kaemada blinked. “You cannot have heard that.”
Eian watched her silently. Kaemada shook her head. “It was the only thing I could think of to save you.”
Eian tilted his head. “You could have used your mouth. Like I did.”
Kaemada shook her head again. She shivered, looking in the direction the Angel had flown, then back at her son, who was now moving his blankets, preparing a spot to sleep. “Eian, no one speaks to the Angels,” she repeated. He glanced at her, shrugged, and laid down.
Turning, Kaemada made sure Tannevar was alright, then crawled over to Eian, tucking him in as he snuggled up with the hunter doll Ra’ael had made him last summer. He had talked to an Angel. Not only that, but he had survived. They both had. She felt like up had suddenly become down, like the natural order of things was twisted around. She would have to ask someone. Who would know? Storyteller Zeroun, surely. As soon as she saw them again—only three or four more days now—she’d explain everything, and he would know what to do.
“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she whispered, kissing Eian’s forehead.
“I love you, too.”
Pulling a blanket over herself, she curled around her son, while Tannevar lay at her back, providing comfort and warmth. As the stars turned in their nightly dance overhead, she dropped off to sleep.
Dawn’s light woke them, but Kaemada’s body was a blaze of stiffness and pain. She could barely move through the agony and bone-wearying exhaustion. The wound on her side had opened, and her legs and arms ached from holding on to Shareilon against the wind. When she told Eian they would have to stay and rest for a while, the boy’s face fell. As the sun rose above them and warmed the air, Eian grew restless and complained of boredom.
“If I know Takiyah, she will have thought of this situation. Check the packs for toys,” Kaemada suggested as patiently as she could. She hated feeling responsible for Eian’s boredom. Even more, she shared his longing to move on. She did not want to risk another night in Angel territory.
Moments later, with a cry of delight, Eian pulled out a set of small wooden figurines complete with tiny swords. Takiyah had attached a note to them with Eian’s name in flowing Rinaryn script. Kaemada smiled at Takiyah’s thoughtfulness as she made use of the bitter root, bandages, and salve. After midday, she forced herself to move on, though they barely entered the mountains before having to stop for the night. At least with the evening bringing cold and rainy weather, their chances of seeing the Angels again were small.
The next morning, after breakfast and bitter root, they resumed their journey. Off the winding trail up the slopes lurked countless dangers, but going over, Kaemada reassured herself, should not be an issue. She pushed her doubt away, committed to her choice. The people of Torkae were
not far behind, for they had travelled steadily. Kaemada drew in a deep breath, sorry to miss the nightly stories and companionship, but still, she urged Shareilon on. She wanted to see Talahn Valley, to see the Seeker Tree, and to rest.
Her stiff body ached all over, and the winds buffeted and dragged, cold fingers clutching at them as if to tear them from the sky and bring them back to the stony ground. It was a long, hard day of travel, and exhaustion made her clumsy when they stopped for the night. Still, Kaemada’s spirits were high. They were nearly at the Valley of the Seeker Tree.
After eating, Eian yawned and cuddled next to her. “Can you tell me a story?”
Kaemada yawned as well. “Again?”
Eian nodded. “The Storyteller tells one every night.”
Kaemada wished she could send him to ask Old Soren or another of Torkae’s Elders instead, but out here, there was no kaetal, no backup. Only her. And Eian needed her.
She pushed aside her fatigue and smiled at him, telling the age-old tale of the Ancient Man, who travelled through the land settling disputes, imparting wisdom, and urging the people to live in harmony with each other and the land around them. At last, he walked up the Holy Mountains and found the Seeker Tree, like Torkaema before him, and there he disappeared. But according to legend, he would return in time of need.
Kaemada lay her head on the coarse fabric of her pack and listened to Eian’s soft breathing. Tannevar nestled at her back. With an exhausted sigh, she snuggled the little boy close and soon dropped into a deep sleep.
When she woke, the sun was just painting the peaks with color. Tannevar hadn’t moved, and Shareilon was picking at the bits of grass he’d found. Kaemada sat up, looking around. Eian was nowhere to be seen. His hunter doll lay abandoned on the ground, and she picked it up. It was cold.
“Eian?” she called. She waited a moment, then called again, more loudly. “Eian!”
She stood, shivering in the cool morning air, and pulled her cloak closer around her. The empty trail stretched before her, and she moved forward, sliding awkwardly down the steep slope that led northward, back toward Torkae. Where was her son? Had he needed to relieve himself? Why wasn’t he answering?
