Sorin stared hard at the ground. His obvious frustration only made the entire exchange that much more enjoyable. In his silence, she walked back to her saddle, lifted a small flap, and untied the piece of metal that she had wondered about so many nights before.
When she turned around, expecting Sorin’s angry stare, she was surprised to find him smiling at her. She smiled back and handed him the tool. “I suppose I deserved that.” He took the pick. “Where was it?”
“I didn’t want it poking a hole in one of the bags, so I tied it to the saddle. I had no idea what it was for.”
“Well, I’m glad you kept it, since I seem to have lost mine.” With that, he went to tend to the horses. In short order, he had the mud and rocks picked out of their hooves and was pushing them out of a narrow clearing at the cave’s edge, but the pungent scent of wet hide and sweat lingered.
Krea watched from her perch on a small boulder. Her bedding was unrolled and wrapped tightly around her, but she still shivered. “Won’t they get cold out in the rain?” she asked, pulling her blanket tighter.
“No. They’ll be fine. There’s plenty for them to eat out there, and more than enough water. If they want out of the rain, they know where to come.” Sorin adjusted Caldir’s blankets on the rocks and then turned to Krea. He watched her for a moment and frowned, glancing around the cave. Apparently, his search didn’t yield the result he wanted, because his frown was more pronounced when he turned back to her. “You’re too skinny,” he said for no apparent reason.
Krea blinked in startled confusion and then twisted around on her rock so she didn’t have to look at him. For all the world, she couldn’t think of a single comment vicious enough to express her thoughts.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” Sorin said. “I’ll get a fire going to warm you up.”
When Krea turned back around, he was collecting twigs and small branches from around the outskirts of the cave. The shallow alcove that had been large enough to house two horses a few moments before suddenly seemed much too small. “I don’t have a change of clothes,” she said, eyeing him warily. “I’ll be fine.”
“Just stay in your blanket while they dry.” Sorin dropped an armload of small branches into a pile near the back wall. “They shouldn’t be too wet. Once we have a fire, they’ll dry fast enough.”
Krea held her ground, though she didn't know why. He had made his intentions toward her, or lack of, clear enough at his estate, and had he been lying then, he’d had plenty of opportunity since to act accordingly. But she had never been naked around him, or anyone else, for that matter. Even with a blanket to cover her, the idea of sitting in a cave without her clothes sent her into a near panic. But why?
Krea looked out at the thin drizzle of water running down the rock wall. The same question needled her day in and day out. Since he clearly didn’t want her, what did he want? When she finally turned back to him, he was frowning at her again, a stick clenched in either hand.
“Krea, I don’t intend you harm. I would think that you’d have figured that out by now.”
“I do. I mean, I don’t. You don’t… I do know that you don’t,” she finally managed. Blood rushed to her face, and Krea was suddenly glad for the dim light, because she knew she had to be glowing red. But that strange warning still sounded inside. On one hand, she was immensely thankful that he found her repulsive, whether it was because she was a kyrni or not. On the other hand, he had to want something. Why else would he go through all this trouble? She’d been dancing around the question for a week and decided it was time to get it out. “Why not?” she asked in a rush before she lost her nerve. Not exactly the question she had been meaning to ask.
Sorin’s bushy brows arched in surprise. “Why don’t I want to hurt you? What kind of question is that?”
“No. What are you…” Krea broke off mid-sentence. What was she going to do? Ask him if he planned to sell her when they reached the Royal City? How stupid was that? Unfortunately, he jumped to his own conclusion.
“Mother Creator, Krea!” Sorin stepped back like he had been hit. “What kind of person do you think I am? Why would you even think me capable of something like that? I explained this already. You are kyrni. Do you think me one of the orbadyn?” His anger was genuine, and his accusing stare pierced her soul, though she didn’t know why.
“I didn’t mean… It’s not like I think you…” Her words just wouldn’t come out. “I’m sorry,” she blurted as she slid off the rock and headed toward the darkest part of the cave. “I just don’t understand what you want for... why you are doing this.” Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t understand where they came from. She had been called names so vile they caused bystanders to recoil, but they never penetrated her tough hide. She had been beaten like an animal, worked like a slave, and traded like property, but through it all she was always strong, always untouchable. Yet this man had only to get angry at her and she fell apart. It didn’t make any sense. She worked hard at keeping her voice steady as she peeled off her wet shirt. “It’s just that I can’t figure out what you want.”
The steady clicks of his flint hitting the other rock suddenly stopped. She glanced up, expecting to see him nursing a small fire, but instead he was staring at her again. “I understand,” he whispered, shaking his head. “How could this have happened? Why didn’t you get a caller?”
Krea turned away.
“Goddess, Krea. There is so much you don’t know. So much you don’t understand, and you have no time left to learn it.” After another pause, the rocks started clicking again. When they stopped, she heard small twigs snapping to feed an infant flame. In short order, an unmistakable red glow filled the nearly dark cave and cast strange, flickering shadows against the rocky wall. Gravel crunched under boots, and a large log grated across the floor. A hand fell lightly on her rigid shoulder. When Krea turned around to face Sorin, his anger was gone.
He paused, as if checking for understanding, then gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “I need to tell you a story. Finish getting out of your wet clothes while I get out what’s left of the food. I’ll tell it to you over dinner.”
Krea nodded and watched him walk away. A small shiver prompted her to get moving. Turning her back on the caller once again, she wiggled out of her sopping breeches.
She felt impossibly vulnerable under the blanket, but she was determined to attempt some maturity. After arranging the wrap as securely as possible, she picked up her boots with one hand, wedged her pile of clothes into the folds of the blanket with the other, and made her way to the small fire. Thankfully, Sorin took the ball of clothing out of her hooked arm and motioned her toward the dead tree trunk.
“I wish we had something hot and fresh to eat, but to be honest, I’m not up to tramping through the rain to get it. We are at the end of our rations, though.” Sorin finished arranging Krea’s clothes on the root end of the log and then grabbed the food bags before coming over to join her. “It’s probably just as well. I’m done to death with this salted meat and flatbread. I’ll be glad when we finally get to Ryth for supplies.”
As much as she agreed with him, food was food, and Krea wasn’t about to ruin her chances of another free meal by complaining about it. Instead, she rearranged her blanket so she could eat without it coming undone and took the proffered meat stick and water skin. They ate in silence.
Sorin no longer wore his gloves when they weren't riding, and Krea had long since quit jumping every time he touched her. His wooden hand still fascinated her, though, and she watched it as they ate. It was the same size and shape as his flesh hand, but it moved more slowly, more deliberately, with a grace the other hand could not mimic. It was stronger than the human hand as well, and she knew from riding with him that it didn't feel pain. She was lost in its movement, wondering if it felt anything at all when Sorin began his story. “What do you know about the kyrni, Krea?”
She shrugged. “I know that they are created by Nordu and protected b
y her. She made callers to protect them because they were being hunted by the torbadyn. Those are the stories I’ve heard.
“I know the story about Thaylo, who was birthed by a cloud as the first kyrni, and I know the five lines of women who were chosen as the first callers.” She broke off her recount because Sorin was laughing. “What?”
“I always find it hard to understand how myths as ridiculous as Thaylo springing to life from a wisp of cloud can be passed on and believed when the hard truth that the torbadyn are on the verge of overtaking mankind can be so easily dismissed.”
Krea just stared at him in silence. After a pause, he sobered and went on. “I will tell you about the kyrni.
“Long ago, before the influence of man, before the Empire, elves reigned over this part of the world. Some say that only one race of elves existed and that the torbadyn broke from that line. The drykir say that the torbadyn are not of their blood and they would curse the man who said otherwise. Either way, the elves were divided. The drykir were the faithful disciples of Nordu. They followed her ways and upheld her laws. They protected Nature and kept safe the magic of the Essence, the magic of Creation.
“The torbadyn were not so faithful. They sought power and fought against the laws put in place by the Mother Creator to sustain the life she breathed into existence. In a final act of rebellion, the torbadyn, led by Mithtrae, sought to violate the sacred law of Nordu. They mixed the blood of man with the blood of the ryni, the magic born.”
“How did they do that?” Krea asked.
Sorin tossed another small branch on the fire and leaned back against the makeshift bench. “They twisted the Essence and perverted it. They captured man and creature, and using magic as it was never meant to be used, they combined the two and begat the kyrni. What they wanted was a creature with the intelligence of man, but the magic and power of the ryni counter. With such a creature, they would rule over all of the lands.”
“But it didn’t work.”
Sorin shook his head. “No, it didn’t. The kyrni were able to shift into the magical creature the human crossed with, but once in that form, they lacked the intelligence to shift back. The torbadyn failed.”
“So, the kyrni are the spawn of evil, after all,” Krea whispered.
“No, you are not the spawn of evil,” Sorin said, placing special emphasis on the word you. “You are the product of two of Nordu’s creations coming together, albeit unintentionally. The evil lies in the hearts of those who made it happen, not in the offspring.”
Krea pulled her toes in away from the fire and considered what she knew of the torbadyn. From the stories she had heard, they were hideous creatures. Elves that had been warped by their own evil. She knew all things were created by Nordu, but had a hard time imagining the goddess creating something so evil. “What happened to Mithtrae?” she asked.
“In punishment for betraying her sacred law, Nordu withdrew her protection from the torbadyn. And she took away their ability to create. Oh, they can still use the Essence much the way I can, but just as it does with me, it must draw power from somewhere. They cannot create it for their own use like they once could, like the drykir still can.
“By withdrawing their access to that magic, she made them mortal. The torbadyn can live for a very long time, but they can’t live forever. When they work their magic, it draws power from their own life Essence until it is eventually spent.”
“So Mithtrae died?”
“Aye, but not before starting a war more terrible than anything mankind has ever seen.”
“With who? Who could…”
Krea didn’t finish her question before Sorin cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Are you going to let me finish this telling, or do you want to keep talking?”
“Sorry.” Krea fell silent. It was obvious that Sorin had heard the story many times, and even though he wasn't a bard, he told it well.
“The torbadyn were filled with hate toward Nordu and the kyrni for their loss of magic protection. They never looked to themselves as the ones to blame. The kyrni had failed them, so the torbadyn decided to take out their vengeance on the innocent creatures. Nordu wasn’t willing to let the creation pay for the crimes of their creator, so she saved them. She charged the drykir with the job of protecting the creatures, and that alone kept them from being destroyed.
“The drykir, still loyal to Nordu and gifted with the power of the Essence, chose from the human followers of the goddess five women whom they deemed worthy and true. In these five women, the drykir created a magic to counter the kyrni. To these five women, the drykir gave the ability to sing down your kind.
“When the torbadyn saw that the drykir had harnessed the magic that they had been cursed for creating, they were consumed. They struck out at the kyrni and the drykir alike, intent on seeing them both destroyed. Being faithful to Nordu, the drykir could not destroy the torbadyn in return. To do so would violate their sacred charge to protect all of Nordu’s creations, even the torbadyn. Instead, the drykir moved the women and the kyrni deep into the Konadorak Forest for protection. Where the Bothri Mountains meet the peaks of the Morkeen, the drykir set up a temple to the goddess and prepared their defenses against their attacking brothers and sisters, the torbadyn.”
“Is it still there?” Krea asked before she could stop herself. Realizing her mistake, she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’ll be quiet.”
Sorin laughed. “Aye, it’s still there. I’ve never been to it, but I’ve been told that the ruins are still easily recognizable.”
Krea waited a moment, but when Sorin didn’t continue, she ventured another transgression. “So, what happened?”
“What happened? I should think that would be obvious enough. The torbadyn and the drykir launched into a war so unthinkably horrible, we can scarcely consider what it was like. The drykir could not destroy the torbadyn because that was in violation to the laws of Nordu, and the torbadyn could not kill the drykir because they could no longer create from the Essence.”
“Then how could it ever end?”
“It can’t. But the more the torbadyn fought, the more twisted and vile they became. They used their Essence to attack, and the price was exacted from their own being. Likewise, the drykir grew tired and many fell away into the Pool of Life.
“The most vicious of the fighting finally ended, not because one side had won, but because both sides grew tired after hundreds of years of war. During that time, the kyrni and the callers grew in number and in strength.”
“And it is still going on,” Krea whispered. “How horrible.”
“Well, aye…but no.” When Krea looked up at him, he continued. “The torbadyn are no longer wasting their precious energy attacking the drykir or the kyrni directly. They have changed their focus. Now, they have armed themselves with proth and are focusing their attacks on mankind. Instead of lashing out at the kyrni, they murder the callers. Rather than go up against the goddess, they prey upon her weakest creation: man.”
“But by killing the callers, they are killing the kyrni,” Krea said.
Sorin’s expression was as dire as she had ever seen it as he gave her a solemn nod.
The two fell into their own silent thoughts for a time as the fire cracked and spit, making short work of the dry wood Sorin had gathered to warm them. Outside the shelter, rain continued to sheet against the rock, pooling in small impressions among the otherwise smooth boulders. Night had fallen unnoticed.
“I understand now,” Krea said, again more to herself than anything else. Sorin’s questioning glance beckoned clarification. “What you said at your house. Why you were so angry a little while ago.” Just thinking back to it made her cheeks flush again, so she kept her eyes on the ground as she pressed forward. “I’m not disgusting to you, just forbidden. And it’s because you think I’m magic born that you feel obligated to take me to the Royal City.”
“You are magic born, Krea, and that makes you forbidden, aye. For a caller to f
orm a union with a kyrni is…” When the man broke off, Krea looked up in time to see him shiver. “That would simply be unthinkable. The relationship between the callers and the kyrni is sacred. Such an act would pervert that bond. And I do not feel obligated. It’s just what is right. I can’t let you lone-shift.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Not if I can help it.”
“But what about the elves? You hear stories all the time about men and women falling in love with the elvish kind.”
“Just stories. I’m sure they are true for the human’s part, but not the drykir. Elves can join with elves only. Mankind with mankind. Kyrni with kyrni. That is how Nordu made us. To violate that law requires a perversion of magic greater than anything a mere man can manage, and the outcome is severe.”
Krea nodded her understanding and took a long drink from her water skin while Sorin turned her clothes over to allow the other side to dry. A piece of bark stabbed her bare skin through the blanket, but she didn’t dare try to pick it out for fear of losing what covering she had. Instead, she tried to shift yet again on the fallen log and finally settled for using the tree as a backrest rather than a bench. “What do you think happened to my caller?” she asked, not sure she liked the unspoken admission of her origin.
“I have no idea,” he said, with a slow shake of his head. “I can’t even imagine. You said your earliest memory was when you had about eight years, right?”
Krea nodded. “Seven or eight. I’m not sure.”
“And you can’t remember anything before that? No faces? No scenes? Nothing? Even if it doesn’t make any sense?”
She thought for a moment, and then shook her head. “Just the trader’s face and the face of that farmer. I remember the inside of the cart and running along behind. I remember getting hit when I fell. There was another girl, an older girl, but I don’t remember her very well. I remember seeing the color orange. I don’t know what it was, but I hated it. I still hate that color. It’s all I can do not to step on morning stars when they bloom.”
Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1) Page 11
