by BC Powell
Another twenty minutes silently slip away before Sash zooms over a hill. The beams smear into the shape of her body and she coasts to a stop in front of us.
“What did you feel?” she asks, looking down at Maya.
“The first thing was pain from you,” Maya answers.
“I’m impressed,” Sash says. “That was two hundred miles away.”
“Then more pain and you were angry,” Maya continues.
With an accusing look, Sash moves her eyes to me. “That was at three hundred miles.”
“What were you angry about?” I ask. “You said that you understand now.”
“Just because I understand doesn’t mean I’m not mad. I’m also upset because I’m traveling around the Barrens and poking holes in my body with a spear. I’m pretty sure that’s your fault.”
When I glance at each of Sash’s hands, I’m almost unable to believe what I see. A round, quarter-inch scab is on the back of each of one. Although the wounds are already healing, probably from sap, they look like they were deep and painful.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I say to her. “Why didn’t you just think good thoughts?”
Sash glances at Maya and then back at me. “Because Maya senses pain much more than anything else, and I doubt Tela has many good thoughts where she is right now.”
“I guess not,” I agree.
Sash kneels in front of Maya. “Was that all you felt?”
“No,” she answers. “I felt more pain on your third stop.”
“Four hundred miles,” Sash says. “That was my leg.”
“I felt something else after that, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I don’t even know if it was you.”
“That was my other leg,” Sash tells her, “at six hundred miles. I went farther than that and stabbed my legs a few more times.”
“I didn’t feel those, but I’m sorry you had to hurt yourself.”
“Thank you,” Sash says. “We can safely estimate your range to be four hundred miles.”
“Is that good?” Maya asks.
“It’s awesome,” I say. “So it’s up to you. Will you help us find Tela?”
Maya scrunches her nose while thinking about her answer, obviously not in love with the idea. Still kneeling in front of her, Sash rests a hand on Maya’s knee.
“You have an incredible gift,” she says. “How you use it is up to you. If you don’t want to go to the Barrens, no one will blame you. But I know how strong you can be. Tela needs your help.”
“Will you be with us?” Maya asks.
“Every moment,” she answers. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”
“I’m going as well,” Larn chimes in from behind us.
“It could take a lot more than a few morrows to find her,” I say to him.
“We’ll take it one at a time,” he replies.
“I’ll go,” Maya announces to Sash. “I want to help find Tela.”
Sash nods her head and smiles. “I’m proud of you. If Marc approves, we’ll leave first thing on the morrow.”
Marc rubs his chin. “I don’t know if it will work, but the Pool did show Maya to Chase. Since she’s agreed to go, I approve. I don’t like the thought of Tela out there either.”
“None of us do,” Sash says.
Chapter 28
While contemplating the best way to convince the Traveler to join her, the woman observes the distant sky. Her eyes sway back and forth in almost perfect unison with the spectrum of color waving against listless gray clouds. The Traveler showed cunning in her plan to hide in the Barrens, the woman decides. It’s no secret to those of the Delta that very few of the woman’s kind dwell near the barrier to the Infinite Expanse.
A Guardian might venture far from a Gateway in hopes of catching a Murkovin who errantly steps foot in their domain. The Guardians’ lust for sap-filled blood, the desire for a few moments outside the realm of suspended time, had long been a source of fear for those who dwell in the Barrens.
“I want you to go to the Desert,” the woman says to the tall Murkovin standing beside her. “Tell my child’s Mür that the young female Traveler will be at camp with me. He’ll know the one when you describe her. But tell no one else about the Traveler. I want others to believe she’s from the Barrens.”
“You know I won’t talk,” he says. “Why do you think she’ll go with you?”
“She may not, but I have reason to believe she will.”
“I should stay until you know for sure.”
Appreciative of his desire to protect her, the woman reaches out a hand and lightly grips his arm. “It will be easier to gain her trust if I’m alone. She might feel threatened if she sees you.”
The tall Murkovin begrudgingly nods his head. “I’ve seen signs of a few others nearby. Stay alert.”
“I will,” she replies, pulling her hand away from him. “When you reach the Desert canyon, tell him I’ll visit soon. He shouldn’t show his face at camp until I do. We don’t want the Traveler to see him.”
“Why not?” the tall Murkovin asks.
“In the unlikely event that she returns to the Delta, it will be to our benefit if she believes he’s dead.”
“Let the people of the Delta feel secure behind their wall,” he mutters.
“Exactly,” she confirms. “Go back to camp when you’re finished in the Desert. I’ll meet you there soon.”
“Don’t let your guard down.”
“I never do,” she says.
The tall Murkovin races away across the rough terrain. After he breezes into the light, the woman walks to a narrow gorge between two almost vertical slopes. She stops when she reaches the center of the canyon, sits down on the dirt, and lays her spear on the ground. Less than fifty feet in front of her stands a sheer wall of rock with a crevice in the base. That seam, just wide enough and tall enough for a person to fit through, leads to the current refuge of the Traveler.
For the past two morrows, the woman and tall Murkovin had painstakingly searched the southeast Barrens where the Traveler had last been seen. Without the tall Murkovin’s uncanny skill at tracking others, the woman doubts she would have located the Traveler. He always notices the tiniest stone out of place, the faintest footprint in the dirt, or the smallest of creases concealed in a hillside. Of even greater value is his ability to think like his opponents. He anticipates every move that enemies might make in battle, and instinctively seems to know where they’ll hide if they run.
Even though the tall Murkovin had already seen the Traveler in this general area, they still had trouble finding her. The tall Murkovin finally spotted a faint wheel track in the dirt. Although the Traveler had tried to erase the groove by brushing the branch of a tree over it, they were able to follow the trail to a small gully cut into the side of a hill.
Hidden in the wash was a steel transport, one the woman could tell had been crafted by the Murkovin in the Desert, not by Constructs of the Mount. Since they hadn’t recruited Murkovin in this area yet, the woman concluded that the transport had to be the one stolen by the two Travelers.
Well hidden in the rocky terrain, the woman and tall Murkovin laid in wait until the Traveler showed up at the transport. After the Traveler refilled her canister and flasks, they secretly followed her to where she entered the cavern. It’s now better to wait for the Traveler to come outside on her own than to risk surprising her in a cramped, dark cave.
After very little time passes, the woman’s head begins to nod. During their two morrows of searching for the Traveler, she and the tall Murkovin had only allowed themselves one brief rest. Fearing she might give in to sleep, the woman stands to her feet and forces her eyes open. Moments later, a silhouette appears in the seam of the rocks in front of her. The person immediately vanishes back into the shadows of the tunnel.
“You’re in the Barrens again!” the woman calls out, knowing the Traveler must have seen her. “But it appears you mean to stay this time.”
“Why are you here
!” the Traveler shouts from the dark.
“I mean you no harm. I want to talk with you.”
“I have nothing to say!” the Traveler yells, a growing viciousness in her tone. “How many are with you?”
“I’m alone. I give you my word.”
“Your word means nothing!”
The woman holds her empty hands out in front of her. “I’ve proven before that you can trust me. I’m not in search of a fight.”
After a long silence, the Traveler leans her head out of the crevice. She snaps her head to each of her sides to look for others. White strands interwoven with long, black hair whip across her face. Seeing no one else in sight and the woman’s weapon on the ground beside her, the Traveler slides her body through the opening in the rocks. Aiming her spear at the woman, she steps down to the flat ground.
As the woman studies the Traveler’s appearance, the woman wonders why her pant legs are torn off above off the knees. Other than the dusty boots on her feet, there’s nothing about her that would lead someone to believe she’s from the Delta.
“How did you know where I am?” the Traveler asks.
“Very little happens in the Barrens that I’m not aware of,” the woman answers. “Why are you here?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’m concerned for your safety,” the woman tells her. “There aren’t many Murkovin in the outer regions, but those who do dwell here could find you. Some live peacefully. Others take what they want. You’re a healthy young woman. If a certain kind finds you, they’ll make you serve them in many ways. Although you’ll crave death, they won’t grant it to you.”
Although the Traveler maintains the grip on her spear, she relaxes the muscles in her arms. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
“I don’t tolerate women suffering abuse,” the woman says. “Even a woman from the Delta.”
“No Murkovin can catch me,” the Traveler arrogantly replies.
“You have to sleep. I doubt you know how to secure a cavern the way most of our kind do.”
“I can take care of myself,” the Traveler grumbles.
She has a decent level of control over the wild sap, a sign of a strong mind, but her temper is volatile. I hope Darkness doesn’t fall before our conversation ends. I’m sure the cravings would overwhelm her.
“Is this the life you want?” the woman asks. “Dwelling alone in a tiny cave in the outer regions of the Barrens with tattered pants on your legs?”
The Traveler looks down at the ground. “I just want to be left alone.”
What could have happened to make her flee so deep in the Barrens? If I learn the answer to that question, I may be able to exploit the knowledge to manipulate her into doing what I want. But before I can find out, I have to gain her trust.
“I can show you that life in the Barrens isn’t what you believe it to be,” the woman says. “I’m teaching our kind to peacefully coexist. I believe you can be of great help.”
The Traveler returns her eyes to the woman. “How could I be of help to your kind?”
“I’m teaching as many as I can to travel. In a world as vast as ours, traveling is the great equalizer, but few Murkovin ever master the skill. They’re either confined to lives in small regions or aimlessly wander the wasteland as nomads. Trees in many areas are destroyed or damaged to the point that they produce very little sap. Many of our kind have no other option than to kill one another to survive. But as I’m sure you’ve seen, there are still many untouched trees in the Barrens.
“I’m showing them a way to take sap without killing the trees,” the woman continues, spinning her tale of half-truths. “They can bind the trees rather than rip the limbs off them. I’m showing them how to store large quantities of sap instead of barely enough to last a few morrows. They learn to control their desires because they’re no longer desperate.
“I’ve scoured the Barrens in search of abandoned steel transports, stakes, and tubes from raids on Travelers over the Eras. I’m able to share my ideas with others and provide them with the tools they need to put that knowledge to use. Traveling is what makes it all possible. But I need to teach more of my kind. I can blend my light and show them how, but someone with your advanced skills can be of great help to me.”
“What do you get from all of this?” the Traveler asks.
“A better life for my child,” the woman answers. “I don’t want him to face the hardships I’ve known. If I’m successful, it will be better for those in the Delta as well. We can live our lives in the Barrens and leave them alone.”
The Traveler stares at her without answering, but the woman sees belief in her eyes.
“There was a Watcher who left the Delta,” the Traveler says. “Do you know where he is?”
“He’s dead,” the woman answers.
“Why was he killed?”
The woman had already prepared for that question. “His hatred for the Delta guided his actions. He convinced a few of my kind to join him, but his vision was clouded. He never learned to control what the sap of the Barrens released inside him. He only wanted power over others. When he had nothing else to offer, others turned on him.”
“What makes you think I won’t be killed if I’m seen by others?” the Traveler asks.
“No one needs to know you’re from the Delta,” the woman says. “I can guarantee your safety, but only if you answer one question for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you return to the Delta with the other Traveler?”
Narrowing her eyes, the Traveler looks off to her side. “I have my reasons.”
“Tell me one,” the woman says.
The Traveler hesitates for several seconds before speaking. “He didn’t want to be with . . .” She stops talking, clenches her jaw, and turns her face to the woman. “They don’t appreciate me in the Delta.”
He must have rejected her, the woman thinks.
“There’s much you’ve been deprived of,” the woman says. “Someone with your abilities deserves to feel valued. In the Barrens, you can live for yourself, put your needs first, and have whatever you want. You define who you are here, not the color of your hair.”
As though she’s searching for an answer, the Traveler scrutinizes the woman’s eyes. “I’ll consider it,” she finally says. “For now, I want to be left alone.”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone. I advise you to change your location every few morrows. Never stay in one place too long.”
The woman starts walking towards one end of the gorge.
“You forgot your spear,” the Traveler calls out.
Without breaking her stride, the woman glances over her shoulder. “You keep it. It may come in handy for you to have two.”
The woman continues at a steady pace towards the end of the canyon. After a few more morrows pass, she can try again. Let the Traveler experience more of the harshness that comes with dwelling in the Barrens. The woman can stay close by and keep watch over the Traveler, but it makes more sense not to push too hard now.
“Wait!” the Traveler shouts.
The woman stops walking and turns to her.
“I’ll come with you,” the Traveler says.
The woman nods her head. “You won’t regret it. I can provide you with a cavern and safety with others who think as I do. Strong men and women who want the same things I want for the Barrens.”
“Let me get my things from the cave,” the Traveler says.
“I’ll wait for you here.”
After the Traveler slips through the crease in the rock wall, the woman returns to her spear. She reaches down, takes it in her hand, and scans the nearby hilltops to make sure that no others were in earshot of their conversation.
I should restrain my speed as we return to camp, the woman thinks. Better to let her feel superior in that way. The more she feels needed, the more she’ll be willing to help. I’ll be able to train the five hundred Murkovin I need in hal
f the time.
It’s unlikely that she’ll ever return to the Delta or that they’ll accept her if she does. But I wonder if she’ll embrace our ways. For the time being, I’ll let her think the former Watcher is dead and reveal nothing of our plans. If she’s not fully on our side by the time we’re ready to attack the Delta, I’ll have no choice but to kill her.
I hope it never comes to that. I already find myself growing fond of her. But regardless of how I feel, no one will stand in my way.
Chapter 29
In the golden light of our habitat, Sash and I spend a much-needed quiet evening with Aven. Seated at a small table that we brought from Market for Aven’s room, we help her get started on a finger painting. Once she’s fully engrossed in the smudges of colors, I spread out a large sheet of canvas on the floor and begin drawing a scale map of Krymzyn. I want the map to encompass everything inside the barrier to the Infinite Expanse so that I can keep track of the areas where we search for Tela.
Seated beside me, Sash helps me with the map by pointing out where important landmarks should go. Although Sash hugged me before I went to the Pool earlier in the morrow, I haven’t seen any other signs of forgiveness from her. She’s polite in her communication with me, but I wouldn’t describe her as warm. As much as I want to reach out and hold her, give her a hug and a kiss and tell her that I love her, I decide I should wait for a cue from Sash.
By the time we’re ready to go to sleep, about a third of the paint that Aven started with is splattered all over her face and body. After showering Aven in the fall, we all climb on the bed. Stretched out between Sash and me, Aven soon drifts into a peaceful sleep. I roll on my side and look over Aven at Sash.
“I saw something else when I was at the Pool,” I say in a hushed voice. “It didn’t make sense to me.”
“What was it?” she asks.
“You and me the first time I came to Krymzyn. But it was different than what actually happened. We were standing at the bottom of the Empty Hill instead of the top, and Tork never came. When Darkness fell, you and I hugged like we were both really sad. Then a shaft of light shot down on us from the clouds.”
