A Traveler's Fate (The Journals of Krymzyn Book 3)

by BC Powell

  “How goes it in the Desert?” she asks the former Watcher.

  “We’ve completed one hundred transports. We’ll use fifty to store more steel sap. Fifty are for you to use.”

  “Are they ready now?”

  “You can have them picked up at any time,” he answers.

  “I’ll send ten people who can blend their light back with you. Once they know the location, they can make several round trips.”

  “Are you sure they can be trusted?” he asks.

  The woman looks in the direction of the camp. “All of those at camp now can be trusted.”

  “Do they know I’m from the Delta?”

  “No,” she replies, returning her attention to him. “None of the new ones know. Those who’ve been with us since the early morrows know to hold their tongues.”

  “I want the people of the Delta to think I’m dead and the creatures of the Barrens to believe I’m one of them. Never use my given name.”

  “We never do,” she confirms.

  “How many camps have you set up?” he asks.

  “We have a total of forty. Between twenty and forty Murkovin are at each camp.”

  He shakes his head with frustration. “That’s all?”

  “We need more transports,” she says. “We don’t have enough for more camps yet. But the more camps we set up, the more Murkovin we’ll find who can travel and bring them here for training. Our numbers will soon increase much faster.”

  The former Watcher moves to the front of the woman and grips her waist in both hands. “You’re our face in the wasteland. You know we need as many Murkovin as we can find.”

  “We’ll find them all,” she says confidently.

  Wrapping her arms around him, the woman leans forward and kisses him again. After their lips part, the former Watcher smothers her in a tight embrace.

  “I couldn’t do any of this without you,” he whispers in her ear.

  I know you couldn’t, the woman thinks to herself. And this part of the plan, I couldn’t do without you.

  Chapter 10

  After the sixty-ninth Darkness since our daughter’s birth comes and goes, I ask Larn if I can take the next few morrows off. He grants my request without asking for an explanation, but I’m sure he knows the reason why. I want to spend as much time as I can with baby girl while she’s still living with Sash and me. And even though it’s not customary in this world, I want to go to her Naming Ritual. Sash had explained to me that the only people who usually attend are the Keepers, children, Disciples, and mother and child.

  Over the next two morrows, Sash and I spend every waking moment with our daughter. Breaking its consistent pattern, Darkness delays its next fall, allowing us a little extra time with her. We take her to the Tall Hill several times to play in the grass. Sometimes, we just lay her on her back and lean over her face to tell her how much we love her. She often swings her eyes back and forth between Sash and me and reaches her hands up to our faces. The almost omniscient smile on her lips seems to say, “I love you, Mommy. I love you, Daddy. Everything is going to work out for the best.”

  We’re awoken to the seventieth Darkness in the middle of the Krymzyn night. Sash silences the screeching of the Swirls and ends their flashing red light by calling out, “Peace.” Lost in slumber, baby girl never wakes up.

  While I go outside to keep watch for Murkovin from a nearby hill during the storm, Sash stays in bed with our daughter. I return to bed after Darkness, but neither Sash nor I close our eyes. Instead, we lie in bed with baby girl nestled between us and watch her sleep. Despite the revelation I had after my tour of Home, the sadness I feel is so overwhelming that my gut twists inside me. Based on the dampness in her eyes and her hand always resting on baby girl, I know Sash feels the same way.

  When the new morrow arrives, we drink our sap and feed our daughter from a cup. Knowing this is our last morning with her, Sash and I are somber and quiet.

  “I don’t even want to think about coming back here without her,” I say.

  Sash’s eyes redden and it takes her a few seconds to speak. “Neither do I. We’ll go to Home later and talk to Marc about visiting her. We can stay for a while to make sure she’s alright.”

  “Sure,” I reply, but her suggestion brings very little comfort to me.

  As we’re getting baby girl dressed in shorts and a tank top, three sharp, consecutive clangs of a bell resonate through the hills outside. A fountain of royal-blue light rises from our daughter’s palms—the sign for the Naming Ritual.

  Since it will take a while for the Keepers and children to reach Sanctuary, Sash and I meander across the Delta towards the south. Secured in a carrier strapped to the front of Sash’s chest, baby girl attentively watches the countryside pass by us.

  When we reach one of the hills overlooking the Tree of Vision, Sash and I sit in the grass. Our daughter can’t sit up on her own yet, so Sash props her up on her lap. While we wait for the others to arrive, baby girl babbles excitedly, often pointing at the enormous Tree of Vision in the crimson meadow below us.

  The Keepers and children eventually cross over the top of a nearby hill. Two of the Keepers have infants in carriers strapped to their chests, and the Keepers and older children are all panting. I assume they ran at least part of the way since it took them less than three hours to cover the fifteen miles from Home. I’m surprised they didn’t summon Travelers to help transport the children, but Sash tells me that it’s a tradition for them to walk to Naming Rituals as a group.

  When they reach the bottom of the hill, the Keepers and children form a row in front of the Tree. On one side of them and also facing the Tree, the seven Disciples gather in a small semi-circle. A gigantic branch suddenly snaps into the silvery bell hanging from the towering steel pole. Before the first ring subsides, the limb pops into the bell again.

  “It’s time,” Sash says softly.

  After Sash returns our daughter to the carrier, we both stand from the grass. I pick up our spears and we walk down the hill. With our backs to the Tree of Vision, we stop in front of the group of Disciples. Eval takes a few steps forward to stand directly in front of Sash.

  “You’ve preserved our balance by bringing a new child into our world,” Eval says graciously. “All of Krymzyn is grateful to you.”

  “It’s my honor,” Sash replies half-heartedly.

  “It’s now time for the child to receive a name. Please present her to the Tree of Vision.”

  Eval and Sash bow to each other. After Sash lifts baby girl out of the carrier, she removes the straps from her shoulders and tosses the carrier to the grass. She turns to me and holds baby girl up in front of my face. Completely ignoring me, our daughter points at the Tree of Vision. Her hand quivers with excitement.

  “Bugachee!” she exclaims.

  “That’s right,” I say quietly. “Big tree.”

  I lean to her and kiss her forehead. She’s so enamored with the Tree that she doesn’t notice my display of affection. Trying to maintain a brave face, I look at Sash. The sorrow darkening her face sinks my heart to new depths of sadness. Sash holds my gaze for a moment and then cuddles our daughter to her chest.

  As Sash walks across the meadow towards the trunk, outstretched branches calmly wave over her head. Like burning embers dancing against a dark sky, the yellow leaves flame in front of the gray clouds. When she reaches the base of the tree, Sash sinks to one knee. She lowers our child to the ground and rests her on her back in a grassy triangle between two enormous roots. Baby girl reaches both of her hands up towards her mother. Sash tenderly takes them in her grasp while whispering something.

  It’s a struggle for Sash to stand. She begins to rise but then crouches back down and rests a hand on our daughter’s head. After she finally stands up and walks away from the Tree, she locks her eyes on mine. As they fill with dampness, she clenches her bottom lip between her teeth.

  When she reaches me, Sash takes my hand in hers and stands by my side facing the Tr
ee. As though they blow in on winds from four different directions, the four letters in our daughter’s name float into my ears.

  “A . . . V . . . E . . . N.”

  “Aven,” I say to Sash. “What a beautiful name.”

  Without ever looking away from our daughter, Sash nods her agreement. Sash’s eyes are so glassy and distant that I wonder if she’s having one of her glimpses of the future. Eval addresses the Keepers.

  “I present to you for your care, Aven, child of Krymzyn,” she announces.

  Marc takes a step forward from the group and bows to Eval. Except for Sash, everyone’s eyes follow him as he walks towards the Tree. Oblivious to everything else, Sash continues to stare at our newly-named daughter.

  Marc makes it less than halfway to the trunk when a giant limb on one of his sides rears back, pauses briefly, and then lashes in his direction. After jerking his head towards it, he ducks to the ground. Lowering its aim, the branch smacks against his body. It lifts him off the grass and catapults him towards the Disciples. He pounds to the ground on all fours and frantically scampers out of the limb’s reach. Another bough crashes to the grass behind him with so much force that shockwaves ripple through the ground underneath my feet.

  “Is that supposed to happen?” I ask Sash.

  Hypnotized by our daughter, Sash shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs.

  Still sprawled on the ground, Marc looks up at Eval with utter confusion contorting his face. Eval turns away from Marc and studies the Tree. All the branches have returned to an almost dormant state with just the slightest side to side motion disturbing the air. After Marc stands to his feet, he has a brief conversation with Eval that I can’t hear. Once they’re finished talking, Eval addresses the Tree.

  “On behalf of the Keepers,” she calls out, “I claim the child Aven for all of Krymzyn.”

  Eval preemptively scans the branches before walking towards the trunk. She makes it about twenty feet inside the reach of the limbs when they all start thrashing up and down. I’ve always believed that tremendous strength and athleticism lurk in Eval’s tall, trim frame. The quickness and agility that erupts from her body as she spins away from the limbs and dashes to safety confirm that observation.

  Sash abruptly squeezes my hand so hard that it feels like she might crush my bones.

  “Stay by my side,” she says. “No matter what happens, show no fear.”

  Tugging me along by her side, Sash marches directly towards the trunk. Deciding they’re the last things we need right now, I drop our spears to the ground. When we enter the realm of malevolent branches, Sash ignores them and stays focused on our daughter.

  As I glance back and forth at our sides, multiple limbs slash across the meadow towards us. Without ever slowing our pace, we keep striding straight in the direction of the trunk. I grit my teeth and tense my muscles in anticipation of the branches hammering against our bodies. When they’re only a few feet from us, they veer sharply away. A few leaves lightly brush across our skin.

  Although the limbs continue to whip through the air, we reach the base of the Tree without any more coming near us. Sash releases my hand, leans down, and gently scoops Aven from the ground. Cradling our daughter in her arms, Sash looks up at the branches of the Tree. One by one, they ascend towards the sky and peacefully sway in the air.

  “What does this mean?” I ask Sash.

  “It means that Krymzyn wants us to raise our daughter,” she answers.

  “Are you sure?”

  Sash smiles at me. “Absolutely.”

  Under serene branches, we return to where everyone else is standing.

  “I’m not sure what to make of this,” Eval says to Sash.

  “Aven will dwell with us,” Sash tells her. “At the beginning of each morrow, we’ll take her to Home. The Keepers can educate her in the ways of Krymzyn, but at the end of each morrow, she’ll return to our habitat.”

  “Do you know for a fact this is what the Tree wants?” Eval asks.

  Sash nods her head. “During Aven’s Ritual, it was shown to me in a glimpse of the future.”

  “What will you do if Darkness comes while you’re asleep? You can’t abandon a child or your duties.”

  Sash looks at me briefly and then back at Eval. “I’m aware of Darkness before it falls. Chase and I can both travel. One of us will take her to Home so the Keepers can protect her during Darkness. As it is now, I can fill one pack of stakes before the other Hunters even reach their first trees. We’ll make it work.”

  “This is the way children are raised in my world,” I add. “They live with their parents . . . the man and woman who create them, but go to school during the day . . . morrow.”

  “I’m familiar with the paradigm,” Eval replies. “That’s how Murkovin children are raised, although they have no school and receive little in the way of education other than what’s needed for basic survival.”

  Sash speaks in a determined voice. “Aven will have all the experiences that other children in Krymzyn have when she’s with the Keepers. But I believe the Tree has made it clear that, for whatever reason, Chase and I are responsible for raising her.”

  “Do you see any issues with this arrangement?” Eval asks Marc.

  “My only concern is that Aven will feel different from the other children,” he answers. “She may not understand why she has to leave Home at the end of each morrow.”

  In a timid voice, Maya interjects herself into the conversation. “We won’t let her feel different. If she’s sad to leave Home, we’ll remind her that she’ll be back soon. All of us will be there waiting for her.”

  Marc and Maya’s words slam into my head so hard that a brick wall might as well have fallen on me. I’ve only had the perspective of how children are raised on Earth. I’ve mistakenly had the belief that Aven would be heartbroken living at Home. Added to that has been my concern that the other children might feel sad if they see her leave at the end of each morrow with parents they don’t have. I can’t believe how misguided my views have been. Their way is the only way they’ve ever known in this world, so it’s the only way that makes sense to them.

  “If you have room for her,” I say to Marc, “maybe she could sleep at Home sometimes when she’s a little older. That way, she can spend more time with the other children. It’s common in my world for friends to have sleepovers.”

  Sash gently rubs her elbow against the side of my arm. I’m certain that it’s a sign of approval for my suggestion.

  “As you saw during your tour,” Marc replies, “we always have spare rooms. Much of the time, seven children dwell at Home as well as several Apprentices who aren’t mature enough yet for a habitat of their own. There’s plenty of space. We already have a cavern prepared for Aven that no one else will use.”

  Still apparently debating the situation in her mind, Eval addresses Marc again. “Do you think Sash’s plan for Darkness will work?”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem,” he answers. “Kyra will be Aven’s primary Keeper. If Sash or Chase can summon her when they’re on their way, she can wait for them by an entrance to Home.”

  Eval silently deliberates the plan and then returns her attention to Sash. “Although I have my concerns, I believe Krymzyn has made it clear that this is how it should be.”

  Sash nods her head. “As I said, we’ll make it work.”

  “Do you want us to take Aven with us for the remainder of the morrow?” Marc asks Sash.

  “No. We’ll bring her to Home first thing on the morrow.”

  He bows to her. “We look forward to caring for her.”

  “I’m grateful for your help,” Sash says.

  The Keepers and children turn away and walk up the side of the hill to the north. As Maya climbs the slope, she looks over her shoulder at me.

  “I’ll take care of her,” she mouths.

  I smile at her and nod my head. Except for Eval, the Disciples all stroll towards a hill on the eastern side of the meadow. Eval waits un
til they’re out of earshot to speak to us again.

  “I don’t believe the reason for this happening is clear yet, but I’m certain there’s more to it than we know. I don’t need to remind you that a child’s safety is of the utmost importance. A child can be at great risk during Darkness. The branches of sustaining trees don’t differentiate between children and adults. If a Murkovin enters the Delta, a lone child is easy prey.”

  “We’ll never let her out of our sight,” Sash replies.

  “I guess this explains a lot,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” Eval asks.

  “The reason we can both travel. Why Sash senses Darkness before it comes. It all makes sense now.”

  “Your points might be valid,” Eval says. “None the less, it’s important for you to remember that your contributions to the balance of Krymzyn are as critical as anyone else’s. You can’t let having her with you interfere with your purposes.”

  “We would never let that happen,” Sash tells her.

  Eval’s eyes drift to Aven and she speaks in almost a whisper. “She looks exactly as you did at your Naming Ritual.”

  After Eval looks at Sash, they stare at each other for several seconds. As I’ve noticed a few times in the past, they seem to silently share something deep and meaningful. Even though they never mention it or show an outright display of affection, the innate bond between mother and daughter is clearly in focus. Eval is the first to break the silence.

  “I suggest you use the remainder of the morrow to fully plan how the two of you will manage the situation.”

  “We will,” Sash replies.

  “Don’t hesitate to see me if I can help you figure anything out.”

  “Thank you,” Sash and I say at the same time.

  Eval bows to us and then walks away. While Sash loads Aven in the baby carrier, I grab our spears from the ground. With Aven secure on the front of her chest, Sash takes my hand in hers. We walk up a hill in the direction of our habitat.

  “We can move the table from my studio to where it used to be,” I say. “I can set up my easel in front of the painting of you at Ovin’s tree.”