Tobar held out the bloom. “Keep this, and remember the hope of a people goes with you.”
“Thank you, Tobar, I will remember.” Sara took the delicate flower.
They walked in silence, each lost in thought. Sara ran her hand over one of the gray-green bushes, dotted with golden flowers, that peppered the landscape.
“There is great beauty here if you know how to look,” Sara said. “Like music for the eyes.”
Tobar paused and his gaze wandered thoughtfully over the barren landscape, ablaze under the level gold of the sun. “Some believe the Faisach is a wasteland. Didn’t you, when you first saw it?” His eyes lost their solemnity for a heartbeat.
Sara nodded.
“It is not. There is much here that thrives.” Tobar reached for her hand and led her to the shade of a rock. Sheltered by the boulder, the burgundy flowers thrived, blanketing the sand in crimson. “Most men cannot live with the way things are: the flow of water, the pull of the moon or the heat from the sun. Men must shape things to their whims. The Faisach will not allow that—she is too strong—but if you live in harmony with her, respect her moods, her strength, her essence, she is as a gentle lover.” Tobar’s eyes grew even darker and his tone changed. “You are like the Faisach, Sara. You will not be conquered, but you too could be wooed. I only regret there is not time or circumstance to do that properly. Such a thing should only be done properly.”
Tobar placed a hand over her heart and whispered, “Bring my son back to me.”
Sara closed her eyes. His lips gently touched hers, a caress more than a kiss. Then he was gone, the rumor of his footsteps fading in the afternoon sun.
Chapter Twenty-One
“The Faisach seems unusually large tonight.” Sara glanced at Zeynel, who sat cross-legged in front of the lean-to. The night sky was ablaze with stars. “Or perhaps we are just very small.” She pulled the blanket closer around her shoulders. “Do you think we’ll face any Rabishi between here and the Zorcani territories?”
Zeynel didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the flames.
Sara picked up a stick and drew circles in the sand, half her attention on her mentor. He was obviously deep in thought, but about which problem of the many they faced, she didn’t know. One of the horses snorted, temporarily ruffling the silence.
“The Rabishi have been clever.” His voice startled her even though she’d been waiting for it.
“Yes. They have.”
“Too clever, don’t you think?”
Sara brushed a finger over a blade of glass struggling in a bed of stones. “Why do you think so?”
“There’s design in their plot, a design that reaches further than these lands. You said so yourself.”
Sara stared hard at him. She didn’t know quite what he was talking about, yet something tickled in her mind. She had said Tobar was making a far-reaching mistake, and had felt it with every fiber of her being.
“You feel Teann.”
Sara stood, her hand tracing the contours of Ilydearta. She’d been more aware of its presence since the Rabishi raid. No, that wasn’t true. Since the council meeting, it hadn’t left the fringe of her thoughts. She could feel it on the edge of her conscience, like a sentient being lingering in her mind. She nodded. “How did you know?”
Zeynel rose and stared at the night sky. “I’m tuned to it, as you will be. Teann is leading us into the mountains.”
“How do I tune to Teann like you do?”
“Listen.”
Sara sighed, frustrated. “But—”
“And you can’t listen if you speak.”
Zeynel reached for her hand. “There is much you must learn and, as is often the way of things, not much time to learn it. Come. Sit by me.”
She followed him back to the fire. He sat cross-legged before the flames while Sara settled next to him.
“It’s often best to start at the beginning and so I shall. I’m going to tell you an old story that may help you better understand Teann and the stone you bear.”
Sara nodded.
“When the mists swirled over desolate waters, before time as we know it began, the One gazed on the barren landscape and saw it was sterile, empty of life, of laughter,” Zeynel began in his rich baritone voice. “He dreamed of a new world and with that dream fixed in his mind, he neared and breathed Teann over the empty waste. Teann moved over the waters and great mountains thrust toward the heavens. Waters pooled and gathered, forming rivers and streams, lakes and oceans. Then Teann skipped across the land and great forests burst forth, their branches shading the earth from the One’s light. All kinds of plants and flowers raised their heads to the light, drawing life from its presence, rooting deep into the cool soil, and the One laughed for the beauty of them.
“The One looked upon fields of green grasses kneeling before Teann’s wind, over stately trees, limbs lifted toward the heavens, and to babbling brooks seeking the great water from where they were born. Yet the One was not finished. He stretched forth his hand and as Teann danced across the land again, herds of creatures sprung from the grasses to romp and play in the light. Fish teemed in the waters, birds filled the empty skies, tiny insects joined the birdsong and again, the One laughed for the wonder of them.
“Knowing his work was not yet complete, he came to the land himself and fashioned a creature unlike the others. To these beings, he gave a portion of his own wisdom and long life, and then Teann rushed into the One’s creations and they opened their eyes to breathe deep of the new air with Teann flowing around them. These children thrived and multiplied and the One smiled. He looked on his work and saw that each creature needed light to live so he stretched forth his hand and set a reminder of his glory in the sky to rule during the day, and at night a vessel to reflect the day’s light and guard the rhythms of Anatar. Yet something was not complete. His children could not hear his voice as he wished. A dissonance remained, so he sent his servants, the Amaryth, to forge in the new sun three stones to gift his children: Ilydearta, the way maker; Crioch, to grant dominion over his creation; and Eolais, the giver of wisdom. Each stone worked alone, but together, they strengthened one another to forge order and harmony.
“The Children received his gifts with gratitude and awe, yet the One sensed, though they honored all his gifts, they were not happy. They’d scaled the mountains, studied and named the creatures and their music filled the nights, but they were not complete. The One realized they were teachers with no one to teach. Once more, he sent Teann across the land and he fashioned other races, not so long-lived as the first, but curious and eager to learn, and the One rejoiced at the joy of his firstborn.
“Then, as a final gift, the one loosened Teann to roam where it willed to aid all his children so they could live in harmony with the land and one another.”
Images danced in Sara’s head as though she was seeing the story come to life.
“Time passed and the children grew in wisdom and multiplied, but the younger began to forget the harmony of Teann and turned on their older siblings,” Zeynel continued. “The elders were not without fault. Discord vibrated through their ranks and soon they lost the gift of the stones the One had given. They kept only one, Eolais. Crioch fell into the hands of discord, and Ilydearta into oblivion. The One looked down upon his children and wept. He sent his servants to the land to restore the way of the One, but the conflict was strong and they were hunted and killed. His firstborn Children, the teachers, withdrew from those they were meant to teach, and hid their stone where it would not benefit all his people, and ignorance spread
its darkness over Anatar.”
Zeynel fell silent.
“That’s why there are no teachers in Anatar?”
“No, child. These are the reasons people no longer hunger to learn.”
“The Siobani, they are the firstborn?”
Zeynel nodded.
Her head swam. The traditions and practices she’d observed on the mainland had been the same for more seasons than anyone could count and yet they refused to embrace or even try anything new. They were trapped. She ran a hand over her damp forehead and pressed her lips for Zeynel to continue. “This has something to do with the discord that I felt?”
“It has everything to do with that discord. May I continue the story?” Zeynel’s blue eyes twinkled.
Sara nodded.
“In sorrow, the One turned to the hidden stone and created a plan to overcome the discord and restore the harmony that was.” Zeynel paused.
“My stone?”
“Ilydearta,” Zeynel confirmed. “A way to restore harmony, and you, Sara, are its keeper.”
She had called herself that not too long ago, but the title now seemed bigger than one woman, bigger than she was. Sara shook her head. There was no way she was part of a plan thought up by the One or any of the other gods people worshipped. “But I don’t—”
“I will continue to teach you as long as you are willing to learn. It is now time for you to hear all.” Zeynel paused to stare at the stars, long enough for Sara to wonder if he’d continue.
“Go on,” she prompted.
“There are three stones, this you know,” he began. “Ilydearta, Crioch and Eolais. The stones were created for the Siobani, many, many star cycles ago. They all help their keeper to commune with Teann but each is different, with unique characteristics. Ilydearta, as blue the sky, shows the way. This can mean many things: the path to take, the methods to use in healing, even where your opponents’ weaknesses are to show you the way to win a battle.” He met her eye. “It will show you the way through a difficulty, but you will still need to take the steps to accomplish the thing. As I have told you before, it uses your knowledge, your experience, your skills.
“Crioch is a red stone and gives its keeper dominion over nature. Skilled keepers... Well, that’s something we can discuss later. Eolais is the deep green stone of wisdom. It gives the keeper the ability to see every side of a problem and stores the accumulated knowledge of each of its keepers. There are many details I’m leaving out, of course, but you need to become familiar with your sister stones. Together, there is no task they can’t overcome. Separate, they are weakened. It is up to you, and Ilydearta, to find a way to bring them all together again.”
Sara swallowed. How should one react to finding out she is part of a plan to restore the harmony of an entire world? The One? But that’s—
She stared into the whirling heavens feeling small and overwhelmed. She giggled. The giggle soon graduated to a laugh.
It was all too much. “I’ve read it’s dangerous to interfere with the plans of the gods.”
“Perhaps even more foolhardy to ignore them.” Zeynel smiled. A soft hum escaped his lips. Words that were not words but the substance behind them. “You are ready. You’ve sailed the shallows and peeked into the depths, but now, come, meet Teann.”
Zeynel’s hum grew and was replaced by soft ripples caressing her mind in tune with Ilydearta’s beat.
* * *
Sara gazed toward the never-ending sea of the Faisach: hardened dirt broken only by the occasional bush or rock. Zeynel closed his eyes, soaking in her confusion. She was tired. For two days he’d been leading her along the paths of Teann as they traveled toward the mountains; he knew her weariness was not physical but deep and mental. She was young, but her mind was intelligent and disciplined. But even a disciplined mind had its limits. There was much to learn, so much it would take many lifetimes to teach it—lifetimes they didn’t have. Still, he would have her learn the discipline and responsibility before he taught her how to wield the full power of the stone. And she would wield its full power, of that he had no doubt. She’d already done it admirably well. When he first saw her, there was emptiness in her gaze. She’d been lost, yearning for guidance, for direction, and he supposed that was natural, but it had filled him with apprehension. Then he’d discovered the steel that lay beneath. In time, she’d be formidable.
Sara ran her hand over her face and shook her head. “Damn it, Zeynel, it’s like you’re trying to teach me a new language. The sounds are all familiar but the vocabulary is beyond me.” She stood and walked a few steps away from their campfire. He heard her mutter something about a hot bath.
Definitely tired. But he sensed she could stand a little more. “I see. Perhaps you were not taught proper discipline when you were growing up. The act of learning is a habit that—”
“My grandfather taught me discipline, believe me. He taught as easily as he breathed and made damn sure I learned. And I did learn. My whole life was about learning.”
“Then perhaps you’ve reached a saturation point.”
Sara glared but remained silent.
Zeynel picked up a stick and fed it to the fire. She has a temper. He corralled a smile before it could touch his features. Good. She’ll need it. And her loyalty could not be faulted. He felt a moment’s hesitation but knew if Sara was to be the sword, he must be the fire to temper her. “Perhaps your mind is not flexible enough for abstract concepts.”
Sara’s gray eyes darkened, her jaw clenched. She sat across the flames from Zeynel. “Where were we?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tobar was right—the land had begun to rise. Clumps of rock, haggard and old like frozen monsters, fought back the dwindling sand dunes across the landscape. In the morning, the desert glittered under a mantle of frost and the horses gave off clouds of moisture with every breath. As the sun rose, the air filled with the scent of moist earth as the mists scattered to feed the increasing amounts of foliage. Sara stared at the clumps of sage. Zeynel had told her that one could tell where to find water by the height of the brush. Tall sage meant deep roots and moisture. The sage rose with the land.
She hadn’t slept well and Mairi’s motion wasn’t helping her stay awake. She blinked to remove the cobwebs and slipped off the horse to walk beside Zeynel, who led his own horse. She patted Mairi’s flank and kept the reins in her hand. Unconsciously, she matched stride with Zeynel and plodded ahead, lulled by the soft thud of horse hooves against the earth. The monotony of sight and sound was mind-numbing.
“What do you think is wrong with the boy?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know his name?”
Zeynel shook his head. “Why is it important for you to know his name?” By now, Sara knew that Zeynel asked no idle questions and that often, the answers were more for her than him.
Why did she? “I like to know the name of people I treat. I suppose it’s a habit.”
“Do you know why?”
Sara pondered the question. “No. Not really.”
“Don’t ever forget, names are powerful things. To know the name of someone, their real name, is to have a piece of their soul.”
She glanced toward Zeynel. “I’ve heard that.”
“Do I detect disbelief?”
“No, it makes sense, in a way.”
Zeynel smiled.
“And you, do I know your real name?”
Zeynel’s smile fell like autumn leaves. “Yes. You do, and my life
is in your hands.”
The silence stretched.
“For a true healer,” Zeynel began, “knowing the person’s name is pivotal to healing them. I’m sure you could heal without a name, but not as well. Some part of you knows this, and you act on it.”
“But I’m not a true healer.”
“I see.”
She glanced at Zeynel and sighed. “Does the stone help me heal?”
“In a way, yes. But remember, though it is called a stone of power, it has none.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you were to drop it here and walk away, it would be powerless to do anything but lie beneath the sky. You are its power. It draws life from you.”
“I’m like a catalyst?”
Zeynel seemed to consider the concept. “I think it’s more accurate to say the stone is your catalyst. It is a link between you and Teann.”
Sara nodded, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Because of this, you will not age as you once did.”
“What do you mean?” Sara stopped. Mairi snorted before coming to a standstill, her ears twitching as though she too wanted to hear Zeynel’s answer. He paused and then continued to walk, his face impassive.
“I always mean what I say.” He looked at her without moving his head as she caught up with him.
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