She was extra affectionate to Ulda and Grung. She went out of her way to be helpful and tried, in every moment she took, to show them how much she loved them. To say goodbye without saying it.
Thankfully Orga was out all day, Z'thandra didn't know why and she didn't care, she was just grateful she wouldn’t have to share her last day with Ulda and Grung with her. By the looks the pair shot to one another when they didn't think she could see, Z'thandra suspected they knew something was up, but no one said anything.
Dusk comes early in the winter, especially in the swamp, and
before long Z'thandra knew it was time for her to be going. The sun wasn't yet setting but it would be soon and Dorian wanted her to meet him at the path before then. She walked over to the empty buckets hanging on their pegs and picked them up, plastering a cheery smile on her lips before turning around to face her Ulda and Grung for the last time.
Looking at them, their reptilian faces, once so frightening and now so familiar, so gentle, she almost changed her mind and decided to stay. Then she remembered what her future in the village looked
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like and strengthened her resolve. "I'm going to go get some water before dark for a change."
"Okay," Ulda said. She looked suspicious but didn't question her further. Grung, sitting in the corner with his leg, nearly healed, stretched out on a chair in front of him, merely nodded.
Z'thandra turned to go out the door, then on impulse stopped
and turned to look at Grung and Ulda once more and said. "I love you guys," before bolting out the door, the long braid down her back streaming behind her like a banner.
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Aphanasian Stories
Chapter Thirteen
"It's for the best," she said in her head, repeating it with each step until it became her mantra. "It's for the best, it's for the best."
Somehow, though, that didn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks.
Her face was sore and chapped by the time she reached the
path, from the cold wind whipping her tears around her face and freezing their tracks. Z'thandra walked with her head down. She'd come on this path often enough in the past weeks that she didn't need to look for the pit markers anymore, she knew where they were without question. She was carrying her tiny pack of belongings in one hand and the two buckets by their rope handles in the other. She looked up once to see that she was alone on the path, and took solace from that – it would make it easier for Dorian to find her.
Dorian wasn't going to call to her during the daylight hours
Z'thrandra abruptly realized and slowed her step. The guards may not patrol outside the village perimeter during the night, but when it was light out, they were spread out around the swamp like a net. She was likely going to have to help Dorian find her.
She was standing in the middle of the path, trying to decide
whether to switch to heatvision where she could see Dorian but not the Reptars, or stick with normal sight which had the opposite effect when she heard a distinct hiss from the bushes to her right. She turned toward the noise, it didn't sound like any animal she'd ever heard, and there was Dorian. She gasped to see him so close to the path and in the day as well. He gestured for her to follow then ducked deeper into the brush.
Z'thandra set down Ulda and Grung's buckets near the edge of
the path. She felt a pang of guilt as she abandoned them and hoped they would find them eventually, but she couldn't leave them out in the open, they would attract too much attention. With one last look back at the village she stepped into the bush, careful not to snap many branches and picking spots with no snow to step. Thankfully very little snow was actually on the ground so the going was smooth.
Eventually she found herself in a clearing and there, standing at the far edge in front of a large boulder was Dorian. She'd never seen him in daylight before, and though the light was beginning to fail now, it was still daylight. He was very handsome, by human or swamp elf standards.
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He was well-muscled and had pale skin, the same shade of
pink that she was brown. His hair was pure black, like the veins of the stone, and his eyes really were green, just like he'd said. They were the same shade of velvety green as the moss in the sacred grove. As he saw her enter the clearing he smiled and it transformed his face, making him look young, and oh-so happy.
"You're gorgeous," he breathed, and Z'thandra realized he'd never seen her in full light either.
"So are you," she answered. She felt heat flood her face and knew she was blushing.
Dorian opened his arms and she rushed into them. The top of
her head only came up to his chin and she buried herself into his chest before standing tip toe to kiss him gently on the lips.
"Mmm," he sighed. "I hope that's your way of telling me you're coming with me."
"It is," she whispered, returning her ear to his chest where she could listen to his heart drum out her name, Z-than-dra, Z-than-dra.
His arms tightened so much it squeezed the air out of her for a moment. He relaxed his grip slightly when she squeaked. "Sorry, it's just you've made me so happy." He gently stepped out of her embrace and looked down into her face with a smile on his own.
"Here, I've brought you a going away present –"
"Really?"
"Yes," Dorian stepped to the side and made to go behind the boulder he was standing in front of, and Z'thandra caught a glimpse of something shine on his left hand.
"What's that?"
"Oh, this?" Dorian asked, showing her the back of his hand and the bold golden-colored ring that adorned his ring finger. "It's an apprenticeship ring, every scholar gets one from his Master when he graduates from an apprentice."
Z'thandra felt a sick feeling in her stomach as she looked at the ring. It appeared to be solid gold and it had a scroll and quill inscribed onto its surface. She wasn't sure why the jewelry disturbed her, but it did. It was familiar somehow.
"Why haven't I seen it before?"
"I kept it in my pocket when I was working, I just must not have put it on before seeing you is all."
"Oh." A heavy silence descended over them, dramatically changing the mood from just a few moments before. Forcing levity
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Aphanasian Stories
into her voice, Z'thrandra smiled up at Dorian. "What was this about a gift?"
"Ahh, it's a surprise." Dorian chuckled. "Close your eyes and put out your hands."
"Okay, but just in case your planning a prank it's only fair to warn you, I'm not afraid of snakes or frogs."
"I'm not planning a prank," Dorian laughed again. "Close your eyes and stick out your hands. Both of them together. It's heavy."
Z'thandra set her tiny pack down at her feet and did as she was bid. Then she heard the distinctive sound of Dorian walking through the bush, to the other side of the big boulder from the sound of it, and then back again. He stopped in front of her and then carefully set something into her arms.
It was remarkably heavy and rolled from her unprepared
hands, down the length of her arms to nestle in the crook formed by her elbows. As soon as it touched her all the anxiety, the tension she'd been disguising, melted away. It felt cylindrical, but wider on one end than the other. Z'thandra curled her arms back toward herself, so she could feel the surface of the thing with her finger tips.
It wasn't perfectly smooth along the edge, but almost, and it felt like the same texture as a piece of glass she'd once salvaged. Then the fingers on her left hand reached down to stroke the base of the wide end and encountered sharp shards, as though it had been broken off a—
"Oh no!" Z'thandra's eyes flew open and she looked down in horror to discover her suspicions were correct. There, cradled in her arms like a child, was a stone. The stone. "Dorian, what have you done?" she gasped as tears filled her eyes anew.
&n
bsp; "What? They don't need it, they don't understand it. They think it makes people tell the truth, they have no idea the potential it holds.
I mean to study it, to learn from it – it's the whole reason I came here."
"You can't take it from them, it's their only hope. Without it, they're doomed."
"They're doomed anyway, Z'thandra."
"No, they still have hope as long as they—"
"No, they don't." Dorian started to pace around the clearing running trembling fingers through his ebony hair. "I thought you'd like it."
"No."
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"I thought you'd understand."
"No. How could you? Really, how could you? They have
guards they –"
"I dug. I dug a tunnel, under the village and up underneath the stone. When the council left for the day..."
"You dug a tunnel..." Z'thandra felt as though she were going to be sick. Her grip on the stone tightened as she wretched then suddenly she felt better and realized the cause was the item she held.
"Why didn't they find it?" She still couldn't quite believe what was happening, despite the reality of it weighing heavy in her arms, so she asked questions, trying to poke holes in the facts. "There are patrols all over this place, all the time..."
"I disguised the hole well – with magic. It cost me more than my life was worth for the spell, but I got it."
"You can't take it Dorian."
"I can, and will. Z'thandra, I love you." he pleaded. "I want you to come with me, but even if you won't, the stone will."
Z'thandra felt her heart break. She'd heard people talk about broken hearts but always assumed they were being figurative, now she knew otherwise. As she listened to Dorian speak and saw the truth in his eyes, her heart broke. She thought she felt it stumble as it beat and she knew for certain it wasn't working as efficiently as it had been. She felt dizzy and the tips of her fingers were tingling.
She looked at Dorian, closed her eyes for the length of a
breath, in and out, then opened them and looked at him some more.
"Dorian, please..."
"You don't get it either! You said it yourself," he said, his voice bursting with frustration. "You said it yourself, that all you'd seen, all anyone had seen was a shadow of the stone's power. Don't you want to know what it can do? What it can be? Don't you want to know?"
"Yes, but I don't need to know and the Reptar, they need this to survive, don't you see? Without it they're extinct."
"Then let them be extinct!"
"Dorian," she pleaded her voice breaking. "Please don't do this.
Let's just put the stone on the path and leave, we'll go away like you said, we'll go away and they can keep the rock. I'll tell you everything you could ever need to know about the Reptars, but don't ask me to...don't ask me to kill them Dorian."
"It's for the greater good, Z'thandra, it's—"
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Aphanasian Stories
Just then Z'thandra realized why Dorian's ring had made her
feel ill, had made her feel like she'd swallowed iron that was weighing down her stomach. The hand, the hand reaching through the foliage in her vision – it had that ring on it. It was Dorian's hand.
She choked on a sob but at the same time she felt a coldness, a resolve, begin to spread through her body. She knew what she had to do. Her fingers stopped trembling, her knees steadied themselves and her tears stopped. Dorian interrupted himself and stopped walking to stare at her in what looked like amazement.
"Z'thrandra? Did you hear me? It's for the –"
"You can't have it."
"What?"
"You can't have it." She repeated coldly.
"Z'thandra," Dorian said, taking a step toward her and extending his hand. "Give it back to me."
"No," she said, shaking her head sadly. "You can't have it."
Dorian lunged for her, but she was too quick. Moving with a
speed she hadn't known she possessed she crashed through the brush, heading toward the path and its pits – set to trap the unwary.
"Give it back," he growled at her back as he chased her. He was so close that once he grabbed a hold of her long braid, but she jerked her head to the side, tearing strands out but pulling the bulk of her hair from his grasp.
The stone was heavy in her arms, but she held it tight and ran.
Thankfully the path wasn't too far and, jumping lightly over Grung and Ulda's buckets she landed on it, but did not stop. She could hear Dorian stumble over the pails and took advantage of that to turn and run toward the lake, toward the pits; specifically toward the one she'd seen in her vision.
Who knew that thing would be useful for something other than
headaches and being forced from your village she had time to think before once again Dorian was upon her. She could sense him behind her, could hear his breathing, harsh at her back, she even thought she could feel it on the nape of her neck. The pit was just in front of her though, she knew it was there from her many walks on this path and she could see the fabric that marked its location.
She kept running, waiting until the last second, until she knew she was on the very edge of the pit, and then she leapt like a deer and landed lightly on the other side. The sound of branches breaking and
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Rhonda Parrish
tumbling into the pit, along with Dorian's pained cry told her, the race, at least, was over.
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Aphanasian Stories
Chapter Fourteen
Then she was living her vision. The wind picked up, whipping
across the lake and blew cold across her face. It tugged at the strands of hair which had escaped her braid and pulled them around her face.
She stopped and slowly turned to look into the pit. She knew, of course, what was going to happen before it did, but she had to be sure. She had to know Dorian was still alive.
Bits of dirt tumbled over the edge and made pattering sounds
as they bounced off the broad leaves, sticks and other debris in the hole. The surface moved, like the surface of the lake when a
crocodile slips beneath it and then fell still. Z'thandra felt her heart patter with fear – what if her vision had been wrong? What if Dorian was dead? She never would have run this way, never would have risked it if she hadn't been sure he'd survive – she didn't know what she'd have done, but it wouldn’t have been this.
"Dorian?" she said quietly, carefully.
The detritus shifted again then she saw, as in her vision,
Dorian's hand punch through the surface. She saw the glint of his ring in the failing sunlight and the glimmer of the few hairs of hers that he still clutched. He tossed the debris this way and that, clearing room until she could see his face, though his entire body remained covered.
"Help me out, Z'thandra." He groaned piteously.
"I can't Dorian," she sobbed. "I need to take the stone back."
"Help me out, we'll go away together."
"No," she gasped. She could feel her will weakening. She wanted to go with him, more than almost anything she wanted to go with him, but she couldn't condemn another race to the fate of her own, she couldn't. She looked at him one last time, studying his face as though committing it to her memory and then whispered. "I love you."
She turned away before he had a chance to reply, counting on
his sense of self-preservation keeping him from shouting. Her feet had never felt as heavy as they did on those first few steps away from him, away from happiness. She tightened her grip on the stone and looked down at it, washing it with the tears that dripped from her eyelashes. After a long steadying breath, which didn't do much steadying, she headed into the brush, figuring her best course of action would be to sneak into the village and try to replace the stone
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Rhonda Parrish
without being noticed. Coming in from the path seemed the least likely way to
achieve that.
If she'd been paying more attention to where she was walking
instead of on her own heartache things might have turned out a lot differently. As it was, Z'thandra walked with her head down, staring at the stone in her arms but not really seeing it. In her distraught state the colors on it blurred together, softened. She sobbed quietly as she went, stumbling over roots and vines, but making good progress around the perimeter of the village. Her sobs had subsided to soft hiccups by the time she stumbled over Orga and Irta. Even then, had she not been distracted by thoughts of how Dorian would escape the pit before one of the patrols found him she may have been able to think fast enough to avoid stepping on them. Alas, she wasn't, and she did.
The pair were laying on what looked like a woolen blanket.
When Z'thandra stumbled over their tails, Itra had his webbed fingers deep between Orga's thighs and, judging by the sounds she was making, Orga wasn't complaining. However, as soon as the
swamp elf stumbled over them, their noises changed.
"You!" Orga jumped to her feet and straightened her skirt.
"Even here you plague me!"
For a ridiculous moment Z'thrandra wanted to laugh. I wonder
how many times Itra and Orga have been just feet away from Dorian and I, she thought and almost smiled, then Itra's eyes fell on the stone in Z'thandra's arms.
"You...you...thief!" he shouted and pointed.
"No, I didn't take it – I was bringing it back," she stammered.
"Likely story," Orga snarled and reached forward. "Give me the stone back then you can explain yourself to the council."
Last time she went before the council for something she hadn't done it had very nearly gotten her stoned, and that was a crime against an individual – if they thought she'd stolen the stone.
Z'thandra suddenly felt ill and for a brief moment wished she had gone with Dorian.
"No," she hissed at Orga and, shifting the stone so that she held it in only one hand she put the other forward to hold her foster-sister at bay. "No, you can't have it...I..."
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