Her eyes held him in an earnest gaze. “I don’t know the answer to that, Sim, but I can tell you this…there is always reason to hope. As long as there are people willing to fight, there is hope. I learned that the hard way. Five years as a slave made me give up. I gave up on my faith in the Creator. But here we are. I will never give up again -- not on me, not on the Dahara, and not on you. We will face the darkness together, hand in hand, and forsake despair.”
A sudden thought occurred to Sim, and he felt compelled to share it with Nehrea. “Navan Prianhe is going to kill me.” She pulled back and crinkled her brow in confusion. “I have visions. It’s part of my power. I’ve seen it happen. We’re fighting on the side of a cliff in a fierce rainstorm. He’s going to bury his sword right here in my chest.” Sim pointed to his heart. “When I have these visions they always come true.”
“You’re certain that you’re not wrong this time?” she asked. Her deep brown eyes were alarmed.
“I’m never wrong about these things,” Sim told her sadly.
“And you’re certain that you died?” she questioned. “Are you sure that you weren’t saved somehow?”
Sim shook his head in defeat. “What am I going to do, Nehrea? How can I face Desirmor if Prianhe kills me?”
“He won’t,” she told him with a stern, factual certainty.
“I’ve seen it happen, Nehrea,” he argued.
“Perhaps,” she answered thoughtfully, “or maybe there’s something you’ve missed.”
“What could I have missed?”
Nehrea shook her head unsurely. She wanted to reassure him, but Sim knew that anything she said would be nothing more than empty promises. When his visions happened so clearly, they always came true.
“We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how, but we will.” She leaned forward and tenderly kissed his lips. “I won’t let you die, Siminus.”
A Showtokan appeared in the tent flap. It was time to leave the fantasy behind and face the harsh reality of their life. Though Sim wanted nothing more than to relax in the privacy of their tent for days, they were still being hunted by the man who would eventually put a sword in his chest. It was a dire thought.
As he stood and offered his hand to Nehrea, Sim thought of a time when it might all be over. Someday, in the distant future, if the Creator was kind, he could spend his days with Nehrea, free from the peril that shadowed his every step. It was a fleeting wish as they walked together to face another day, but with her at his side, he felt a reason to hope.
The Mierentheon and the Uellade stood waiting, along with at least a dozen more Dahara, when Sim and Nehrea finally emerged from their tent.
Sim had never felt better in his life. A grin split his face from ear to ear as he and Nehrea walked hand in hand to meet the horses. An immeasurable energy passed through their hands, like tangible desire. His steps felt lighter. His heart was overflowing.
“Good morning, Collora,” the Mierentheon and the Uellade said in unison.
Nehrea bowed her head and smiled warmly, “Good morning to you, Great Ones.”
“There is much we must do this day. Has your strength been restored?” the Uellade asked.
“I’ve never felt stronger,” Nehrea said, with a small smile for Sim.
“Siminus," the Mierentheon swung his head to the other Dahara standing several feet back. “You may choose from their ranks. They will carry you wherever you ask.”
“We’re looking for a house on the edge of the Water Woods. I'm unfamiliar with these lands. Will it take long?” Sim asked.
“On the backs of the Dahara, you should complete this journey by nightfall,” the Mierentheon answered.
Sim looked out and recognized Firetail, among the gathered horses. His bright orange mane and tail stood out.
“How about it, Firetail?” he asked the horse. “You feel like carrying me around again?”
Firetail trotted right up to Sim. "It would be an honor, Harven.”
“What about you, Nehrea? Why don’t you pick one?” Sim asked.
“The Collora will be staying here, Siminus,” the Mierentheon said.
The smile on Sim’s face abruptly slipped away. He looked up at the great horse, towering over him. The Mierentheon was possibly the tallest of all the horses he had seen since meeting the Dahara. He wondered if that factored into their hierarchy.
“What do you mean? She’s coming with me,” Sim squeezed Nehrea’s hand.
“I am sorry, Siminus,” the Uellade spoke. “I know that you have developed a deep affection for our Collora, but she must remain here. Nehrea Alla’Dushura has much to learn, and there is little time. You bring change to the world’s balance. Soon the mountains will tremble, the skies will roar. Our Collora must be ready to lead.”
Nehrea returned Sim’s pained look. Once he left to find the Librarian, their lives would head down a completely divergent path. She would become the voice of the Dahara, following the needs of the clan. Would their romance ever have a chance to bloom?
Her dark eyes held the same fears.
“Great Ones. If I may?” Nehrea asked respectfully. “He seeks this Librarian to see a prophecy. It is possible that there may be some advantage to glean for our own purposes. Perhaps there are references to the clan. If I was to journey with him to see this Librarian, I could see if there is something contained within this prophecy that will benefit the Dahara.”
The great horses stood in silence debating Nehrea’s wisdom. Sim hoped they would see the sense in her words. Surely there would be something said of the Dahara. He knew that if she went, it would only temporarily forestall their eventual parting, but he longed to have more time in her presence.
“You have spoken wisely, Collora,” the Mierentheon said at last. “We have heard of the man they call the Librarian.”
“His story is known to us,” the Uellade added. “It is said he keeps the actual parchment on which Princess Harmony Alexidus’ prophecy was written one thousand years ago.”
“It is no coincidence that a new Collora has come to us in the company of the last living Harven. It is likely the Dahara may have a role in the events that will decide the future balance of light and dark.”
The Uellade nodded her head in agreement and spoke to Nehrea. “You shall journey with Siminus Kelmor Harvencott. Meet with this man and decipher any meanings contained within the prophecy that may pertain to the Dahara. Then return to the clan and begin your training.”
Sim felt Nehrea’s hand tighten around his own. He felt relieved, but knew that it was fleeting. They earned another day or two, but their parting was eventual. He could already sense the impending ache in his heart.
“We will leave you here then Collora,” the Uellade said. “Go with Siminus to the Showtokan village and prepare for your departure.”
“I must implore you to make haste,” the Mierentheon added. “There is a darkness in the air. Something different. We have not encountered a feeling like this before. The clan is nervous. You must return quickly and begin your training. A Collora’s life is difficult, but rewarding. You have sworn to put the needs of the clan ahead of all others. We must prepare for the dark times ahead.”
“Thank you, Great One,” Nehrea said with a bow of her head, first for the Mierentheon, then the Uellade, and finally an acknowledgement of the horses gathered around. She pointed to the two horses nearest Firetail. Both were females with pristine white coats and blonde manes. “Fallastar and Shearwind, will you consent to bear my friends on our journey to the Water Woods?”
Each horse stepped up beside Firetail and held their heads up high and proud.
“We are honored to serve, Collora,” they answered in unison.
Firetail stamped his front hoof with approval.
“Thank you, Mierentheon, Uellade,” Sim said, bowing his head as Nehrea had done.
“Take care of our Collora, Siminus Kelmor Harvencott,” the Uellade said. “And trust in yourself. In the end, it will prove to be your greate
st strength.”
Sim thanked them again, then led Nehrea, hand in hand, toward the Showtokan encampment. They walked in silence, with Firetail, Fallastar, and Shearwind trailing several steps behind.
“At least we have another day.” Nehrea said exactly what Sim was thinking.
He squeezed her hand, then brought it to his lips and kissed her exposed fingers tenderly.
“We will have to say goodbye eventually,” he said, sadly.
“I don’t want to think of that,” Nehrea answered. “Let us enjoy the time we have and forestall the sorrow of our parting until the last.”
“Alright,” he said. His heart was heavy, but he would handle their looming farewell as he had learned to handle all of the events that burdened his mind. He would turn the pain into anger and direct the rage at Desirmor, the Blood Lord, and Navan Prianhe.
“What troubles you?” Nehrea asked, feeling the tension through his grip.
He shook his head in frustration. “Everything. Life used to be so easy for me. I did my chores around the inn, practiced my swords in the barn, and slept every night in the peace of my own bed. I thought I wanted something more. My father always told me that someday I would long for the simple comforts of our inn. I never imagined he could be right. The world is just so dark. Everyone expects me to be some kind of savior, but I hardly know what I’m doing. I’m trying my best, but…it’s hard to be what they want me to be." He looked into her eyes and hesitated. “I’ve got so much pain inside. I can’t stop thinking of my parents.” He choked back the imminent sob that welled in his throat. “Being with you has helped me forget about all that. Now, I’m going to have to accept losing you as well.”
“You will not lose me, Siminus.” She stopped him and put her arms around his neck. “Our parting may be long, but we will be together again. There will come a day, when every night resembles our last. We will fall asleep in each other's arms, free of the cares that shadow our backs. Believe in this dream, and have patience.”
They kissed softly, two young lovers wrapped in the gentle embrace of newfound yearning. As he pulled away, a solitary figure standing at the top of the rise caught his eye. It was Enaya.
Shrouded in the pastel light of a sun rising at her back, she watched their approach with a stoic face. Only her arms, tightly clenched beneath her bosom, betrayed any possibility that she was raging with jealously.
Sim drew a measure of satisfaction from her anger, but he didn’t care. Enaya was given her chance, and refused. Let her grouse.
“Good morning, Enaya,” he called out in greeting, when they were still several steps away.
“Will she be upset?” Nehrea whispered quickly in his ear.
“Yes,” he answered out of the side of his mouth.
“Where have you been?” Enaya asked coldly
Sim and Nehrea exchanged confused looks.
“The Ritual,” Sim answered.
“The Ritual took two days?” Enaya nearly shouted.
“What are you talking about?” Sim didn’t understand.
“It’s been two days. We haven’t heard anything,” Enaya said.
Sim looked at Nehrea, who was just as surprised as him to hear that they had lost an entire day.
“I’m sorry Enaya. I didn’t know. The Ritual was grueling. We must have slept through a full day and night,” Sim apologized.
Enaya grit her teeth and her hands balled into fists. She looked as though she was preparing a very cross reprimand, but turned instead and began to stride back to the camp.
Sim and Nehrea stared after her back for a moment.
“You would do well to pick up the pace,” Enaya called over her shoulder in an icy tone. “We don’t have all day.”
“Mierentheon has assured us that on the backs of a Dahara, the journey will only last the day,” Sim told her as he took Nehrea’s hand and hustled toward the camp.
“Many things can happen in a day, Siminus Kelmor.” Enaya glanced over her back at him. Her blue eyes were as sharp as daggers.
“I know we’re being tracked by Prianhe, but even he can’t keep up with the Dahara.”
“I’m not talking about Navan Prianhe,” Enaya growled.
Sim didn’t want to start a fight, so he kept quiet. He knew she was looking for any reason she could find to yell at him. Sooner or later she would turn her jealousy into an argument over something meaningless and petty. Better to take the high road.
Enaya led them into the center of the encampment. Showtokan, in their crudely styled brown clothes, many outfitted with animal pelts hung over their shoulders for warmth, hustled about around them. Here and there, Sim would catch one staring at them, but they quickly looked away once they were caught.
Standing beside the dying embers of the bonfire were Farrus, Givara and Quinn. Farrus and Givara greeted them with indifference, while Quinn’s burned face was split by a huge grin. His one good eye squarely focused on their held hands.
“What’s this now?” he asked, with a wink. “We lose you for two days and you come back holding hands?”
Nehrea merely blushed and looked away. She seemed particularly to be avoiding Enaya’s eyes. Sim grinned sheepishly and stammered, “Mind your business, old man.”
“Come, come now. You’re amongst friends,” Quinn teased.
“Are we ready to get moving?” Sim changed the subject.
“You’re not getting off that easy, young man. Can we expect another member of our dysfunctional party soon?” Quinn twitted, drawing a fit of snickering from Farrus and Givara.
“That’s enough!” Enaya suddenly shouted. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides. Her face was a severe shade of crimson. The laughter cut off, and every eye watched her squarely. Practically spitting her words, she began emphatically barking out orders. “We don’t have time to sit around chatting like a bunch of prepubescent girls. Givara, organize our supplies. Farrus, help her. Quinn, do as Sim asked and mind your business. Sim, why don’t you do something useful for a change and tell the Dahara where we are going.”
“Where exactly are we going, Enaya?” Sim did his best to keep the anger from his voice.
“To see the Librarian,” she sharply retorted.
“Yes, yes. I know that, Enaya. Where does he live?” he asked calmly.
“The Water Woods.”
“The Water Woods sounds like a big place. Do we know where in the Water Woods?”
“Master Gracin knows,” she said.
Sim spared a look at the deformed old man. Quinn had been watching the exchange with amusement. He threw up his hands defensively.
“Are you two finished?” he asked with a fully formed smirk.
“We haven’t even started,” Enaya’s voice cracked like a whip.
Sim didn’t respond. He felt Nehrea tensing as if she meant to tackle Enaya and beat her soundly. She still held his hand in a crushing grip. For an instant, he considered engaging Enaya in the fight she seemed desperate to initiate. They would shout and holler, arguing futilely, until they were separated and led away to calm down. But that wouldn’t do any good. Sim knew why Enaya was truly upset and didn’t want to have that conversation with an audience. He mastered his temper, stamping down the torrent of rage igniting a fire in his belly, and turned away.
Farrus and Givara were standing next to the three Dahara waiting to leave. Sim led Nehrea to Firetail. The majestic horse crouched low, but Sim still had to help Nehrea climb up onto his broad back. Then he took her hand and hoisted himself up behind her. Farrus handed him a small leather satchel which he slid over his shoulder.
“What’s in it?” he asked.
“Some food and water,” Farrus replied.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Enaya asked Sim.
Sim looked down from his seat atop Firetail. The horse was easily ten feet tall. Enaya stared angrily up at him, her hands planted squarely on her slender hips.
“What are you talking about?” Sim asked.
“You
’re riding with me,” she exclaimed.
“No, I’m riding with Nehrea,” Sim told her in a firm, calm tone.
Enaya huffed and pouted. She looked ready to pull Sim down from the horse and pound him out. She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of what she might say and took a long deep breath instead. Through gritted teeth she spoke.
“I need to know what happened the other night at the Ritual. You told me you would tell me everything. I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to talk, while we ride.”
“Just ride beside us,” Sim said.
“I want to ride with you,” Enaya wouldn’t give up.
“Well that’s too bad, Enaya. I’m riding with Nehrea. If you want to talk, you’ll just have to ride beside us.” Sim looked away from her, sending a clear message that the matter was resolved.
Enaya glared at him, seething clearly, but trying to show a noblewoman’s comportment and grace. He wanted to laugh at her. She always tried so hard to present herself as a dignified lady, forever in control of her emotions. It was almost fun to watch her unravel.
It was nothing less than she deserved. He was the one who had put his feelings on display the day before. He had made himself vulnerable and offered her his heart. She had chosen friendship over intimacy. If she was motivated by jealousy now, she had only herself to blame.
Farrus and Quinn mounted Shearwind, and Enaya took a seat behind Givara on Fallastar. As the horses began to walk for the open fields beyond the encampment, every Showtokan stopped to witness the parting. They put down their labors and burdens and watched the strange outlanders, riding on the backs of the sacred horses. Sim looked out at the scores of primitive, dark-skinned half men, each with silent, solemn faces, and wondered about their culture.
“Firetail, can you tell me about the Showtokan?” Sim asked his mount.
“The Showtokan are a simple people. They follow our clan because it keeps them away from civilized men. Civilized men tend to bring death and hardship to primitive races.”
The Innkeeper's Son Page 66
