Cano bravely stood in their path, his dagger prepared to stab, but the creatures never made it. Maehril struck them down with beams of light, which instantly reduced them to ash. Then she quickly reinforced the barrier, renewing its shimmering white brilliance.
The suddenness of the force she used was briefly overwhelming. She staggered awkwardly for a moment, but Cano was there to catch her arm and give her support. After her head cleared, she gave him a reassuring nod, but the concern stayed firmly entrenched in his leathery face.
“Sit down, now. Ya did what ya could for us,” he told her. She let him guide her to a seat in the grass by the fire. “There, there. Isn’t that better?”
She smiled sheepishly. Using that much force so quickly was too difficult. Though Bella had led her through countless exercises over the years, nothing her Mother taught her had properly prepared her for encounters with dark creatures. She wasn’t strong enough yet. Bella had assured her that her true strength would come from experience. Each battle would increase her power and her ability to react quickly. She needed to learn faster.
Jerron took a few more swings at the nearest creatures, but all of his strikes missed. The beasts had adapted. They would have to find another way.
The four men came back to stand by the fire with Cano, each regarding her with the same frown that graced Cano’s face. While she appreciated their concern, it was bothersome being looked upon like something fragile.
“This isn’t going to work,” Hartsohn said. “The girl can’t keep it up all night.”
“What if we set them on fire?” Peters wondered aloud as he stared down at the ashen remains of one of the creatures that had broken into the dome. With no-one bothering to tend to the fire, it was slowly dying out.
Hartsohn looked over at Mueller and shrugged. “It's worth trying. The damned things seem to be made out of wood.”
Mueller nodded to the pile of kindling. “Let’s get the ends of some of these longer branches going and see if it works.”
Peters threw some of the lesser branches into the fire to stoke it back to full strength. It took a few minutes, but soon it was crackling with good, strong flames. Each man then grabbed a longer branch and set the ends into the fire. When the ends were properly lit with sustainable flames, they carried their torches to the barrier.
Jerron tried first. He poked his lit branch through the dividing wall and tried to touch the nearest creature. Just as if he was swinging his axe, the thing took a firm step back, avoiding the flame. Jerron looked over at the other three men unsure of what to try next. Then Mueller knelt down and set his branch upon one of the headless stumps, lying on the ground. The flame flickered with the taste of fresh wood to burn and quickly ignited the body. The creatures nearby didn’t react to this new tactic. As the headless stump became engorged in flames, the nearest beasts stood by unconcerned, until the flames caught their feet, setting them on fire.
It was a massacre. Once one lit on fire, it frantically ran around, igniting every creature in its chaotic path. Like the choreographed ignition of a candle-lined chandelier, the entire surrounding horde went up in flames, creating a wall of fire outside the border of Maehril’s protective light.
The barrier was designed to repel evil and darkness, but the heat from the raging fire permeated inside. All of the men fell back into the circle, but the air inside the dome was warming quickly.
“What if them damn things catch the forest on fire?” Cano had to shout to be heard over the chorus of dying screams.
“He’s right!” Hartsohn shouted.
“Which way is the trail?” Jerron asked.
“Who can tell in this blaze?” Peters replied.
“Calm down!” Mueller yelled. “Watch!”
The barrier began to flash like a mass of fireflies hovering in a dark field. The creatures were throwing themselves at Maehril’s defense. In a last futile attempt to obey the will of the darkness that made them, they hurtled against the barrier. The party watched the sad, helpless display, relaxing by steady increments. In their effort to pursue Maehril with their last moments of life, they had kept the fire in the center of the clearing. As the bodies of the horde burned out, so too did the danger that the forest might ignite as well.
“We’ll be lucky if our pursuers didn’t see that,” Hartsohn grunted some time later, as the threat was reduced to a flickering pile of wanly lit embers surrounding their camp.
Mueller grunted his agreement.
“We’ll be lucky if that was the only manner of dark creature that comes fer us tonight,” Cano said darkly.
“Ever hear of anything like that?” Peters wondered aloud, with a weary shake of his head.
“That was a new form of evil,” Mueller answered.
“Do you think this was a trap?” Jerron asked.
“A trap? What do you mean?” Mueller sounded curious.
“Well, like the way you trap a rabbit,” Jerron explained. “You put out a snare somewhere you’d think a rabbit would like to be. Once a rabbit wanders in for the bait, it traps them. What if this is how those things hunt? What if this clearing is just a big snare?”
Mueller looked around the clearing with interest. A grin split his thick stubble revealing a straight set of teeth. “I think you’re right.”
“Then why were they after her?” Peters asked, skeptically.
“Maybe they weren’t initially,” Hartsohn guessed. “Maybe they figured us for a meal, until they sensed her, and their black souls compelled them to react.”
“I’ve said it before,” Cano told them all, “wherever there’s light, darkness isn’t far behind.”
Maehril watched the boys talk for awhile and tried to stay focused, but she was weary. Her arms and legs felt heavy, impossibly so. She yawned deeply and stretched, then laid down on the soft grass with her back to the fire. Eventually Cano and Hartsohn took up the watch, circling the camp with sharp eyes fixed on the woods. Mueller and Jerron curled up, by the fire, each man searching for sleep with both hands secure around the hilts of their weapons. Maehril drowsily watched Jerron fade away. She hoped to wake to the light of morning. She asked the voice to help, but heard no reply. Then she fell asleep listening to the silence in her head.
Chapter Twenty Six: Three Hearts
When morning's first light began to illuminate the walls of her tent, Nehrea allowed herself to awaken. She felt different. The ritual had given her a precious gift, a life force that coursed through her veins. It was invigorating and wonderful. She felt capable of anything.
Voices of Dahara whispered in the back of her conscious mind, and she had the ability to choose whichever she wanted to hear. Simply by concentrating, she could pluck a single voice from the crowded chatter and listen as clearly as if the horse were standing right beside her. And she could speak back, if she chose to. Wherever she went, no matter the distance, whether oceans surged between them, she could communicate with the Dahara. It was one of the Ritual's gifts.
Another gift was a feeling that pulsed with each beating of her heart. She felt a connection to everything around her. The Ritual had filled her mind with the memories of past Collora’s, bestowing upon her many lifetimes of accrued wisdom and understanding of the Trivarial power. She knew how to heal, without ever having been taught. The knowledge was simply there. She could summon the wind on command, the rain if needed, shake the earth, call fire from her fingertips. She could feel the moon’s soft light and drink in the sun’s warm rays in a way that she could never have imagined before. She felt infinitely powerful, and something more -- she felt free.
For the first time in her life, Nehrea believed in the idea of purpose. Not as a courtesan whose purpose is to serve, but on a higher level. She believed she was a part of something greater than herself, a spoke in a turning wheel, individually insignificant but added to the whole, intrinsically vital. Nehrea could feel the world beckoning her, imploring her service, and she was prepared to answer and sacrifice if necessary. For the D
ahara, she would gladly make any sacrifice. They had given her the one thing she had always desired above all else. They had given her freedom.
Sim still slept peacefully beside her. He lay on his stomach, his black hair hanging across his face, shielding the immaculate masculine lines of his jaw and cheekbones. His body was naked and exposed, and Nehrea couldn’t help but to study every exquisite muscle. He was perfect, and she had become helplessly infatuated.
Her body still quivered from the passion of their lovemaking. Never before had she experienced such pleasure, and she longed for more. Until the previous night, Governor Cantor and that loathsome man, Beck, had been the only men who had ever taken her body. They had been cruel and forceful, delighting in her resistance and abjuration. Sim was the first man she had given herself to willingly. His touch had been gentle and passionate. Nehrea never believed that she could feel pleasure in a man’s touch, but now she found herself burning for more of Sim’s strong, secure embrace.
She sat up and began sensually drawing lines across his back with her fingertips. He stirred, yawning heavily, then regarded her with a drowsy grin.
Nehrea’s hands began to quiver slightly as she gazed into his green eyes. Her pulse quickened. He flipped over on his back and pulled her down. She kissed him, deeply, then settled into the comfort of his bare chest.
“I don’t know anything about you, Nehrea,” he said softly, stroking her hair with a casual rhythm.
“Want do you want to know?” she asked, absently listening to his beating heart.
“I want to know everything. Anything you want to tell me. Tell me something about yourself,” he asked in a tender voice.
The circumstances of Nehrea’s life had taught her to be guarded. Trust was something she had never given away. But Sim was compelling. The ritual had changed something inherent within her heart. At all times she could sense the proximity of the Dahara, hear them converse, and it made her feel connected. She was as much a part of the Dahara now, as they were of the land. Her heart felt open in a way she could never have imagined feeling before the ritual. She wanted to trust Sim. She knew she could.
“When I was a little girl my father took me to the Governor’s palace. He was a blacksmith, very skilled. He was delivering something he had made, a scepter I think. I suppose it doesn’t matter. That was the first time I had ever seen the statue in the square. Have you seen it?” Sim nodded. He listened intently as she spoke.
“I asked my father about the statue. I remember being entranced by it. He told me the story of the Dahara, though his account was far different from the reality. I’d never heard of anything so magical. Every night thereafter, when my father put me to bed, I would beg him to tell me of the Dahara. Then I would fall asleep and dream of them. Riding across fields and plains, galloping into the wind, racing the horizon. Today I feel as though I’ve awoken into that dream.”
“Your father sounds like a good man,” Sim said.
A tear fell down Nehrea’s cheek. “My father is the only man who never hurt me.”
“I’ll never hurt you.” Sim gently wiped the tear from her cheek.
“I believe you,” she whispered.
They kissed again. Nehrea enjoyed the strength in his embrace and the feeling of vulnerability it gave her. She felt safe with him.
He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes. She sensed that something was on his mind.
“How did you end up at the Governor’s palace?” he asked. Nehrea tensed up at the question. “You don’t have to answer that,” he told her.
“No. I want too. But…” She was afraid he would think less of her, but if she meant to give over her complete trust, she knew she needed to have the courage to lay bare the aspects of her past that were damning. “Please understand…the choices were not my own. I never chose the life I was given. I simply did what was necessary to survive.”
“We all do what we must, Nehrea,” Sim assured her.
“Every year, the Governor sends guards out into the Cortella looking for pretty girls to serve in the palace. They came on my sixteenth birthday. My mother brought them to take me. At first I thought that I was fortunate. A life in the warmth of the palace had to be better than going to bed hungry every night in the Cortella. The first night I spent in the palace he raped me.” Nehrea had to look away rather than chance seeing the lust leave Sim’s eyes. “For the first several months, he raped me every night until I began to accept my fate. When I stopped cringing at his touch, he moved on to another girl. He still called upon me from time to time, but at least I was able to spend some nights alone.”
“He’s a monster,” Sim said bitterly. He pulled her close, holding her tight. “You’re free now, Nehrea. You’re free to live as you wish.”
“I know,” she whispered, tearfully.
“One day, we’ll make him pay for every woman he’s hurt.”
Nehrea kissed him again as passionately as she had ever kissed a man. They quickly fell into another bout of lustful lovemaking. Lying with him set her soul on fire. She wanted to stay within his arms for all of eternity. For the first time in her life, everything was falling together in her favor. She had forgiven her past, found a new calling, and fallen in love all in the course of one day. The future held infinite possibilities, and with Sim at her side, she felt ready for every challenge.
As they lay there in the aftermath breathing heavily, enjoying the quiet, Nehrea thought of the Creator. Though her parents had instilled in her a belief in the Creator, she had forsaken her faith. The agonizing reality of her life had made it difficult to accept the idea of a benevolent, forgiving God. Now she wondered if she had been wrong. Perhaps the hardships had been a test of some kind, a way of proving herself equal to the responsibilities of her newfound existence. For the first time since she was a child, Nehrea sent up a prayer of thanks to whomever might be listening in the heavens above.
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Sim pulled his trousers on with an eye fixed on Nehrea. She was still naked, standing in the center of the tent, inspecting the clothes that had been left along with a tray of food. He was mesmerized by her perfect body. Every line, every curve, seemed sculpted just for his attention. His nose was still filled with her scent, and his legs still felt weak from their lovemaking. For the first time since his parent's murder, Sim felt happy, at peace.
“I’ve never seen clothing like this,” she said, holding up a pair of black leather pants. The seams were woven of thick leather cords leaving diamond shaped spaces along the length of the leg.
“I’ll admit that I will miss seeing you this way,” Sim grinned deviously, “but I’m sure you’ll get used to those after awhile.”
Nehrea looked back at him longingly. She proudly displayed her body. “I would gladly stay this way for you, if you wish.”
Sim sighed breathlessly, “I wouldn’t want everyone to see you this way.”
Nehrea smiled demurely and began pulling on the leather pants. “My body is for you, and you alone, now Siminus.”
“That’s good. I was never much for sharing.”
He watched her breasts disappear behind a tan hemp blouse. Nehrea also slid into a black leather jerkin and a soft pair of boots. Though her body was hidden now by her clothing, Sim’s mind still clung to the memory of her naked form.
They took a seat on the ground and began to enjoy their breakfast. The Showtokan had left them a tray with a pitcher of milk, a loaf of bread, and two bowls of cold porridge.
“Tell me about your homeland,” Nehrea asked between spoonfuls’s of the bland porridge. “I’ve heard of Carleton. The Governor vacations there once a year. I hear it’s very luxurious.”
“Carleton is quite luxurious. I come from Dell. It’s a city on the other side of the island. A port mainly. My parents had an inn on the outskirts. They raised me there. Until recently, I’d never been anywhere but Dell. I worked at the inn my whole life. It was all I’d ever known.”<
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“So you were just the son of an innkeeper?” Nehrea asked. Sim nodded, thinking of his parents. “I think that makes me like you more.”
“Why’s that?” Sim wondered.
“You know the value of hard work. A man that has to work for everything he gets, will always fight harder than a man who was given everything.” Nehrea watched Sim absently stirring his porridge. “You told me before that you only just found out that you’re a Harven. How did you find out?”
Sim’s face became hard. He looked at Nehrea with evident anguish. “The Blood Lord came to Dell,” he said, darkly. Nehrea put down her spoon and took his hand. She gently rubbed her thumb against the back of his fingers. “My parents knew what I was, but they never told me. Actually, they weren’t even my real parents. They raised me as their own, but they never told me the truth. My true father was a merchant sailor who used to visit the inn from time to time. His name was Sarimus. Sarimus was there with my parents when the Blood Lord came to the inn. He killed them. The Blood Lord killed them all, right in front of me. I saw it all through a window. Enaya and Givara helped me escape.” He held out the orange gem that hung from his neck for Nehrea to see. “The night before they were killed, Sarimus met with me in secret and gave this to me. He called it my birthright. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but since I’ve had this, all of my power started to come out. I can do things I’d never dreamed of. Farrus says that eventually I will be capable of so much more. The truth is that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m just trying to figure things out as I go and hope I don’t get everyone killed along the way.”
Nehrea slid over and took him in a soft embrace. “You’re doing the best you can,” she whispered.
Sim appreciated the reassurance but shook his head anyway. “You don’t understand, Nehrea. I’m the center of a prophecy. I’m supposed to kill Desirmor and fix the world. How can anyone ever expect me to beat him? He killed all of my ancestors, an entire race of men like me, who knew how to use their power. I’m just one man. What hope do we really have?”
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