“I told you I had resources. Now make us tea so we can finish what we started and get you on your way. It’s colder than Anuvian’s bosom out there.”
Sara gathered the tea leaves in a daze. A trader’s map! Most people on mainland Anatar knew the area around their homes very well, but anything outside that was a mystery. Only the traders, and on a smaller scales, the peddlers, such as her father, traveled any distance from their homes. She supposed people were too busy trying to stay alive to think about lands far away. She’d had the benefit of studying a book on Anatar’s geography, but only remembered the basics.
“You said when you ride the winds of Teann you can sense the wind, feel the power of storms?”
Sara nodded.
“Then you’ll know when to find shelter from a coming storm, won’t you?”
She froze. So simple, yet she hadn’t thought of it. In a vague way, she’d sensed the storm that capsized their boat. It had felt like building energy. She hadn’t guessed how fast or severe, but perhaps she could use her sense to her advantage and move north while her enemy was trapped. He has a stone too.
“There is very little else I can tell you about Teann,” Maelys continued.
Sara poured a measure of tea into the steaming water.
“What do you know of the stones?”
“I have one, the Siobani have another and the other—”
“Yes,” Maelys said. “I don’t know what each of the stones do, but I do know each has a purpose. Eolais is held by the Siobani and you’ve sensed the keeper of Crioch. Together, the stones gain power. Apart, they are weakened.”
“That’s why I need to reunite them?”
“The life of the land and its people are tied to those stones.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t speaking in riddles,” Maelys snapped, then nodded toward the pot of tea. Sara moved to pour two cups before settling back in her chair.
“It is said that when the three stones are joined, there is no famine in the land. The rains fall where and when they should, the oceans are bountiful and peace dwells in the hearts of men.”
Sara smiled.
“Don’t get sentimental. Just because it is said doesn’t mean it’s true. Not exactly. War is what separated the stones in the first place.” She turned her dark gaze to Sara. “But you have ridden the winds of Teann. You have felt the sickness in the land. The evil of men. Each man does what is right in his own eyes. He does not accept anything that his father didn’t know and accept. The land suffers because of ignorance and apathy. Warlords ravage the southern lands. Slave ships have even dared journey as far north as Tyrol.” She sipped her tea. “If the stones were reunited, peace would have a chance. Men’s hearts would be strengthened, turned outward.” Maelys sighed. “An old woman rambles about how things could be instead of living with how they are.”
“What does the keeper of Crioch want with me?”
“Your stone. Teann is not good or evil, it simply is. So are the stones. He could use them as he willed, to whatever purpose he desired.”
Sara swallowed. “And the Siobani?”
“No one knows where they’ve gone. They could all be dead.”
“They’re not. I don’t know how I know that, but I’m certain.” And she was, more certain than she’d been about anything. “What are they?”
“Siobani. They are what they are. The keepers of the stones. The original people to dwell in these lands.”
“The stories say they steal children’s souls and take babies from their cribs, leaving a large stone in their place. Do they?” She shuddered.
“No. But you will hear many tales such as those. My grandmother used to tell a story told to her by her grandfather about a great Siobani healer who traveled from village to village, healing anyone. He was tall and fair and would take no money or trade for his services.” A note of wistfulness entered Maelys’s voice. “A group of Siobani lived in the woods near my ancestor’s home, but you couldn’t find their village unless you’d been invited to do so.” She shook her head. “For all I know, these tales are as false as those you’ve heard. But it is said that the gift of healing and the knowledge of herbs was passed down to us by the Siobani. It is one of the reasons healers are not held in as high esteem as we should be. Or at least was at one time. Now, it’s tradition. ”
“Cailech,” Sara muttered.
“An ancient word for witch. Where did you hear it?”
“Some boys in the forest. I’d almost forgotten.”
“I’ve also been thinking of your dreams. Have you had any more?”
Sara shook her head.
“His attention must have turned elsewhere. This is a good thing. But you must build your defenses against him.”
“How?”
“I know it’s possible, but it is beyond my skill to teach another how to do so.” Maelys sipped her tea.
“Are the dreams how he found me?”
“I think he sensed the stone, and through the stone, you.”
“If the stones are meant to be together, they would call to one another.”
Maelys nodded.
“So I could look for him too?”
“Maybe, once you determine how.”
“And I can look for the third stone too. And through it, find the Siobani.” Sara smiled.
“Yes. That’s it, girl.” Maelys set down the cup on a small table. “But first you must get away from danger. You must keep that stone safe until you find the Siobani.”
“Will they accept me?”
“Who knows? Do they even still exist? You have plenty of time to ponder those questions. It’s a big world out there.”
Chapter Seven
Sara opened her eyes, blinking the rough wooden wall across from her bed into focus. Even though she stuffed bits of cloth in every opening she could find, the wind still managed to whistle into the tiny house. Maelys had been right—when she meditated, she could feel the storm’s energy, the ebb and flow of wind currents feeding off each other, flowing over the land like water.
She smiled at the thought. The last storm had certainly left a great deal of water behind in the form of snow.
Sara unbraided her long dark hair, then ran her fingers through the ridges the braid had left behind. Today she left. Although winds roared against the house, in mediation, she sensed this storm weakening, moving south and losing strength altogether, but she wasn’t sure how long it would take or when the next storm would strike. Now that her life could be on the line, everything in Teann seemed unfocused and distant, but she was ready and it was time.
She stood and gathered her things. She and Maelys had said their goodbyes the night before.
Sara reached for the door and paused. A sudden unease clenched her stomach. She was no longer the obedient granddaughter, safe in the shadow of one of the greatest Shi’ia generals of all time. When she left this house, she’d no longer be Maelys’s apprentice. Who was she then? A healer, a skilled warrior, but was that all? She knew with a certainty that made her knees weak that when she stepped out this door it wasn’t just to escape the fate of those at Tyrol, it wasn’t even to find the Siobani and complete her quest. On her journey she would meet herself. When she did, would she recognize who she had become?
Taking a deep breath, Sara stepped into darkness.
* * *
A cold breeze trickled in through a crack in the tent’s flap, ruffling the edges of the multicolored rug that covered the rough dirt floor.
Bredych breathed
in the scent of dust, sweat and fear, held it and exhaled slowly until he could again focus.
After telling his tale, the messenger remained kneeling on the woven rug, waiting. He was the source of sweat and fear and for a moment, Bredych toyed with the idea of killing him where he knelt. He imagined the deep crimson staining the rug and seeping into the earth below. Leather creaked behind him. One of his men shifted, also waiting for his reaction. The news hadn’t come as a surprise. He had been unable to sense the stone for over two moons. If Randver had succeeded, he’d have heard word by now.
“And so you betrayed your lord to inform me of his failure?”
“I am loyal to you, Master.”
Really? Patience was something he’d cultivated for years. It could be a great tool when used correctly. Patience and self-control.
“Do you know where Randver is now?”
“No.” Under the dirt and grime, the man’s face paled further.
He did. Interesting. Apparently his loyalty only stretched so far. It would be curious to find out if the same could be said of the man. He adjusted the brightly colored clothing under his cloak. Even now a horse waited for him. There were more expedient ways he could travel, but they were taxing and, in this situation, unnecessary. “Rise.”
The messenger rose to his feet, his gaze still on the floor.
He lifted his arm and waved his hand near his ear. Cridell stepped forward and knelt before him. He could afford to send two score warriors to make sure the job was done, but decided it was best to keep a low profile. He didn’t want word of a large group of southerners marching through the northern lands to reach the wrong ears. Not yet anyway, not until he’d set the playing field to favor him. The task at hand didn’t require warriors, only stealth and cunning.
“Randver has failed. Take five of your best men. Find him. I don’t care how long it takes. Once you do, take him to his village. Slaughter every man, woman and child and then plant his head in the village square.”
“Yes, milord.” Cridell’s voice didn’t waver. If anything, Bredych heard eagerness in the tones. Better yet. “And this man.” He waved toward the messenger. “With the proper encouragement, he will tell you the best place to start your search.”
The warrior smiled broadly, rose and turned toward the messenger.
“And Cridell.”
“Yes, milord?”
“Don’t fail me.”
Part Three
Apprenticeship
Teann is a language, but not one of words; it speaks as the wind through the trees, water over stones. You will feel it in your bones, know it from the depth of your being. It will guide you and bring light where there is none.
Chapter Eight
“Shit.” Sara froze in her tracks. On the path ahead stood a warthog. A large warthog. And judging by the looks of him, a large, angry warthog. She took a step back, remembering the words of her grandfather as he left her alone, with no supplies, on the far side of the island in dense forest. “When most people walk into the forest, or a plain, or any other wild area, they do so with confidence because they believe they are the superior being. They don’t understand they are interlopers. Face-to-face with another predator, we are only as superior as our tools and the skill we have to use them. Always remember and use you mind, it’s your greatest weapon.”
The warthog shook its massive head then lowered it, blowing bits of detritus and snow off the forest floor with its moist breath. It was looking at her as if she was dinner. Served her right for daydreaming. She’d let her guard down. Grandfather would’ve tanned her hide for being so stupid. But the awakening forest was covered in a veil of white. Diamonds coated the evergreens and wove patterns in the dirt path. The pristine beauty had lulled her into a feeling of peacefulness. Less than a moon on her own and she’d already made a potentially fatal mistake.
She took another step back and the creature let out a bellow. All right, he’s not just warning me away. This fellow means business. I must seriously be invading his territory. There will be time for self-recrimination later.
“I’m not competition. I’ll back off and we’ll just forget all about it, eh?” The warthog pawed at the ground then began a lumbering charge. “Didn’t think so.” Drawing her sword, Sara sprinted toward the beast. Must time this perfectly. As she neared, she stepped up the side of a tree trunk and, using gravity and her momentum, brought the tip of her sword down just behind the creature’s head. She felt the crunch of bone through the blade before the sword pulled free and she landed on the other side of the path, rolling into a crouch. The warthog took another step and then collapsed in a furry heap where it thrashed for a while, its jerks subsiding gradually until it lay still.
Cautiously, Sara approached the animal. Warmth still radiated from the body, but she couldn’t see its breath. Placing her foot on the warthog’s back, she shook it once. Dead. She wiped the blade on the beast’s thick fur. So far she’d only trapped small game, usually the occasional rabbit or fox. This was her first big kill. “It was either you or me, big guy.” She finished cleaning the blade with a cloth from her pack, examining the shining metal. First blood. “This is not the island, Sara. Another mistake like that could kill you.” If anyone in the dense forest heard her voice, they didn’t answer. She pulled a knife from her belt, a gift from Yann. How is the baby doing? Has it grown fat yet? And Maelys. There was no way to get word or hear it. She closed her eyes briefly, willing the frustration and sorrow away. She’d made it this far by looking ahead, not back. Emotion wasn’t something she could indulge in. She looked at the warthog. Fresh meat. Her mouth began to water. The fur would make a pretty good blanket. She had work to do.
* * *
“And I say we will not.” Niku watched his son rise from the table and pace the small framed structure.
“Father, I understand your reluctance, but if we do nothing...”
“Cais.” Niku set down the meat, wiping both hands on his thighs. “I didn’t say we would do nothing.” He glanced toward his elder son, Trilian, who watched the exchange but did not participate. Niku fought a sigh. From long custom, Trilian let his volatile younger brother lead discussions, hunting parties and everything else for that matter, preferring to stay in the background, watching. The gods had played a prank on him when they’d arranged the birth order of his sons.
“No, only that we would wait yet another winter in the hopes the thaw rains would replenish the river and that, Father, is the same as doing nothing.”
“Waiting—”
“Yes, I’ve heard you. ‘Waiting is a learned skill and what one does while they are waiting proves character.’” Cais spun around to continue his pacing. “Have you seen our stores? Do you really think we will survive the winter to see the spring? And if we do, and if the rains come, they will only increase the water behind the dam those tegosies have built.”
“This is still my house and you will watch your language.”
Cais glanced from the floor and the rug woven with the Rabishi crest, to his older brother, Trilian, then back to him. “I apologize, Fath
er.” Sorrow laced his voice. “I know I will never be Akier, but that does not mean I love my people the less.” He shook his head. “The Heleini have more than enough. It is said they throw to their dogs more than the Rabishi Akier serves at his table.”
Niku examined the scant meat on his platter and sighed. “Your love for our people is commendable, Cais, but you will need to learn to restrain the passion of your belly in favor of the logic in your head. What would you have me do? Raid the Heleini?”
“Yes!” Cais whirled, slamming a fist into his hand.
“And what would we gain? They are stronger than we are and many.”
“Then we would die fighting like men instead of starving like animals.”
Niku shook his head. “My decision is final.”
Cais stood staring at the rug for several heartbeats. His younger son would not relent. The argument one they had so frequently that save for a few details, he could almost repeat it from memory. If only Trilian showed a fraction of the leadership qualities Cais had in abundance. Niku reined in the thought. It never did any good. Trilian had been a sickly child and whispers that it would have been better if he’d died before his eighth summer, when the ascension rites were performed, still circulated from time to time. Niku was well aware most of his people favored his second-born, impulsive son. Niku watched Trilian cut the scant meat on his plate. He could ask Trilian’s opinion on the matter but from experience, he knew his son would defer to him. He’d hoped once the blood rites were accomplished and the Akier line flowed through Trilian’s veins, that his son would grow into his role. Now, nearly twelve years later, his hope died a slow death.
“If I have your permission, I’ll take a group of hunters to find meat.” Cais’s voice broke the silence if not the tension. “The baiku will be whelping soon. They are slow. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and the Rabishi will not be hungry for one night at least.”
Journey of Awakening Page 10
