“Why are you worried about them?”
“Because they're primitives, that's why. Long-range scans indicate a technology level equivalent to thirteenth-century Earth. I believe the word scholars once used to describe it is 'medieval'. They've discovered metallurgy but have yet to invent firearms or any complex machinery. I think it's safe to say they know nothing of extraterrestrial beings, so they probably won't greet us with open arms.”
“Do they look like us?”
She nodded. “For all intents and purposes, they're nearly identical to homo sapiens. There are a few minor variances in terms of body chemistry, but other than that, they're no different than Terrans of fifteen hundred years ago.”
“No different?” His brow furrowed. “That's hard to believe. I mean, what are the odds that, in this great big ol' universe, two planets so far apart would produce humanoid life-forms so close to each other genetically?”
She chuckled under her breath. “You're asking the wrong lass, Dav. Metaphysics and the great cosmic dice game are way above my pay-grade. And besides, we've got much more important things to worry about right now, don't we?”
He didn't answer her. He just stared into space.
She looked at her son with affection. How is he holding it together so well after all that's happened? He's just a kid, and he's dealing with it better than I am.
She stood up, moved over to stand next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It'll be okay.”
“If you say so.”
With a sigh, she moved back over to the panel, sat down, and grabbed the soldering gun again. “Come on,” she said, “let's get some juice into this rust-bucket's guts, all right?”
“Sure,” he said. He didn't move, though. He just continued to stare, unblinking, at the nearby planet.
Maeve set to work again. She had no desire to interrupt her son's thoughts, which she knew were as heavy as her own. We've lost so much, and the only ones left to pull humanity's collective ass out of the fire are an ex-Space Corps pilot and her teenage son.
Saints, don't let this be a fool's errand.
Chapter Five
K elia stretched her legs, working the cramps out as she walked in circles around the small fire she'd built from a few dead branches of the huxa tree that had been her only companion during her vigil. The nights during the dry season were still quite warm, but a burning fire at least gave her something to concentrate on while she kept watch.
Since her arrival, she'd not slept at all. She couldn't risk falling asleep and missing what Arantha had brought her there to see.
She glanced once again across the darkened desert that stretched like a giant black carpet in front of her. There was no movement, no sound but the chirping of insects; not even a breath of wind.
As Arantha's vessel, Kelia assumed the energy she received from her last consultation would be enough to sustain her for the duration of her visit to this place. After nearly three days, however, her constant measures to remain awake and alert left her both physically and mentally drained. She'd used various meditative techniques to keep her senses acute, but she found herself unable to maintain that level of concentration now; her evening meal, several hours ago, represented the last of her food.
Kelia did not think, when she first set out from her village, that Arantha would test her resolve so. Her initial excitement had been replaced by a frustration greater than she'd ever felt before. She was hungry, thirsty, and so, so tired. And she needed a bath. Badly.
As she continued to pace, she weighed her options. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint Arantha, but her abilities—-and her patience—-were stretched beyond their limits. If she made it through to sunrise without collapsing, she would return to the village with nothing meaningful to show for her prolonged absence.
Her leather shoes made no noise upon the rock as she paced, idly chanting rhymes from her childhood. She considered amusing herself by using her Wielding to shape the flames within the fire to her whim, but dismissed this notion quickly. She was far too exhausted to waste energy like that.
* * *
Hours passed. Sunset was already a distant memory, and Kelia began to wonder if her sanity had fled with the daylight.
A distant roaring sound caught her attention. She whipped around, looking left and then right, wondering if she was hearing the call of some great animal. However, that was impossible, for the sound continued unabated, and it was steadily growing in volume. With a start, she realized the sound wasn't coming from the desert, but from above her.
Adrenaline gave her weakened body new vigor as she cast her glance skyward. Seconds passed, and the roar grew louder and louder. She searched the heavens, praying for the sign she so desperately sought.
Then, out of nowhere, a spot of light appeared. It was tiny and dim at first, but grew in size and intensity as it streaked across the heavens, leaving a trail of incandescence in its wake.
Kelia's heart beat frantically in her chest as the … object, for she had no other word to describe it, sank lower and lower in the sky, eventually vanishing as it neared the horizon. It must have come down somewhere in the Kaberian Mountains. She continued to watch for several minutes, but the light did not reappear.
What did I just witness? Great Arantha … have you returned to Elystra after all this time?
She felt her sudden rush of adrenaline fade, and fatigue threatened once again to overwhelm her. Fighting it down, she gathered up her satchel and walked at a brisk pace away from the outcropping, back to the village.
* * *
When Kelia strode through the doorway of her home, she wasn't surprised to find Liana still awake, even though it was the middle of the night. Countless times, she'd caught her aunt, seated in the room's most comfortable chair, wide and wooden and covered with lyrax pelts, poring over one of the scrolls Kelia forgot to roll up and put back in its proper cranny in the wall of her study. A small fire crackled in the circular fire-pit in the center of the room.
Liana stood up as Kelia entered, and a welcoming smile formed on her round, wise face. In a loud whisper, she said, “Nima! I'm so glad you've returned!”
Kelia smiled back, happy to be addressed as “niece” instead of “Protectress,” which only happened in the privacy of her own home. “Not as glad as I am to be back, ama,” she returned, giving her aunt the same familial greeting.
Liana strode forward and enveloped her niece in a warm hug. Almost immediately, she stepped back and scrunched up her face, which looked rather comical under her short white hair. “Though I must admit, you've smelled better.”
Kelia removed her outer robe and hung it on a hardened clay protrusion near the door, a sign to the Ixtrayu assigned to laundry duty that it was ready for cleaning. “You try sitting in the same spot for three straight days and see how you smell,” she retorted. “How's Nyla?”
“Keep your voice down,” Liana whispered, running a hand through her short, grayish-brown hair. “She's only just drifted off to sleep.” Using her head, she gestured at the entrance to one of the home's three bedrooms.
“Sorry.” Kelia stumbled forward and sat down in one of the other chairs next to the fire-pit. Leaning forward, she held her hands over the glowing embers of what remained of the fire. Warmth spread through her body, and she was grateful to be indoors, in familiar surroundings again.
“You've been gone a long time,” Liana said hesitantly. She rolled up the scroll she was reading and laid it on the ground at the foot of her chair. “We were wondering if something happened to you.”
“Something did.”
Liana drew in a sharp breath. “Does that mean you saw what Arantha wanted you to see?”
Kelia remained silent as she leaned back in her chair, tightly gripping the armrests while continuing to stare at the remnants of the fire.
Dozens of myths were told to the daughters of the Ixtrayu for centuries: tales of a godlike being that descended from the Above. This being's name, according to leg
end, was Arantha, and through her intervention, a group of female slaves rose up against their captors and built a thriving community. No man had set foot in Ixtrayu territory since the village was built.
Arantha's wishes were often vague and cryptic, but she'd never led Kelia, or any of her predecessors, astray. Still, to actually see the distant light appear before her was … exhilarating. And more than a little intimidating.
“Yes.” Kelia whispered, her eyes still fixed on the fire. Liana drew in another sharp breath.
They sat in silence for a few tense moments. Liana idly drummed her fingers on the arms of her chair. “Are you really going to make me ask?” she finally said.
Kelia knew Liana would not be satisfied with a simple, vague description. “I don't know what it was. I do have a theory, but I'm not sure how the Council will react to it.”
“Nima,” Liana said soothingly, “Arantha led you to that spot, and fulfilled your vision. She would not have done this were it not for our benefit. Why are you so worried?”
“I don't know. Maybe I was hoping that after so many years of guesswork, Arantha would provide me with some clarity.” Kelia shifted in her seat and rubbed her leaden eyelids. “It feels like … like we're traversing a raging river so shrouded in darkness we can't see the other side. The only way we can make our way across is by blindly groping around with our feet for the next stepping stone. All it will take is one false step on my part, and our people will be swept away to their doom.”
Kelia bit her lip, fidgeting in her chair. “Never in all my life have I felt so handicapped by my stilted divinatory ability. How am I supposed to explain what is beyond my power to understand?”
Liana didn't even blink. “By trusting Arantha, and those who know you and love you.”
“It's that simple?”
“As far as I'm concerned, it is. So tell me … what was it?”
Before Kelia could respond, a mighty yawn forced its way through her mouth. She felt fatigue overwhelm her again, so she stood and stretched her back before she circled the fire pit and knelt down by her aunt's chair, placing her cheek on Liana's bony arm. Liana responded by gently rubbing the top of her niece's head with her other hand.
After a few deep breaths, Kelia met the older woman's gaze again. “Something has come to Elystra, ama. Something not of our world.”
Liana's brow crinkled into a frown. “You don't mean … from the Above?”
“That's exactly what I mean.”
Her aunt gasped, her brown eyes widening. “Oh my.”
Kelia's knees started to cramp, so she rose to her feet again. She shuffled over to a small pile of kindling in the corner of the room, grabbed a few sticks and threw them on the fire. They stubbornly refused to ignite, so Kelia closed her eyes and made a slight motion with her hand. The kindling burst into flames, returning the fire to its former glory and warming the room. Satisfied, she resumed her seat in the chair nearest the fire pit.
“What are you going to tell the Council?” Liana asked, her soft voice combining with the crackle of the fire.
“I haven't decided yet.”
“But you just said … it came from the Above. If Arantha has returned –”
“It would be a great and wondrous thing,” Kelia interjected. “The Ixtrayu have served her faithfully from the beginning. Her return, in whatever form she may take, would renew our faith for centuries to come.”
Kelia pointed at the scroll at Liana's feet. “Ever since I learned how to read, I've been studying our tribe's history. Arantha has always shown us our path. How we tread that path, however, she has always left to us. Our ancestors followed her blindly, but we are a more enlightened people now. I cannot just assume it was her return that I saw tonight, even if it was she who allowed me to see it. It could very well be Arantha … or it could be something malevolent. Something that threatens the Ixtrayu, perhaps all of Elystra.”
Kelia's leg began to twitch, and she had to hold it steady with her hand. “But if it is Arantha, I have to ask myself: why didn't my mother, whose gift of foresight was far superior to my own, see this coming? And if she did, why would she not speak of it, or at least document it?”
“Perhaps she couldn't,” Liana replied. “She must have believed keeping tonight's events a secret was Arantha's will.”
“That's quite a secret to take to the Great Veil with you.” Kelia stared into the flames, as if hoping to glean some additional wisdom from them.
“Don't fret, dear niece.” Liana gestured at the rolled-up scroll she'd been reading. “You may not have your mother's talent for divination, but your ability to control the elements puts hers to shame.”
“Maybe so, but right now I'd trade all of that ability for a fraction of hers. I fear the Council will expect more answers than I can provide, especially Susarra. She grows more difficult every time I refuse her request to have the Sojourns resume.”
Liana rose to her feet. “I wouldn't worry about her. She may honk louder than most, but she won't challenge your authority.” She moved off toward a room adjacent to Kelia's bedroom. “I'm going to sleep. Try to get some yourself. You look like you need it.”
“I will. Sleep soundly, ama.”
“Sleep soundly,” she echoed and disappeared through the thin layer of kova hide that curtained the entrance to her room.
With a slight wave of her hand, Kelia subdued the fire until, once again, it was reduced to a few smoldering embers. Yawning, she walked over to the entrance to Nyla's bedroom, peeking through the curtains. Fast asleep on the pile of lyrax pelts in the far corner lay her thirteen-year-old daughter, her dark hair spilling over her cherubic face.
Kelia allowed herself a slight smile, inwardly hoping Nyla's calm repose would remain when she woke in the morning. The odds were better that Onara would return from the Great Veil. Being rebellious and disobedient was part of adolescence, and not even the daughter of a Protectress was immune to the fickleness of youth.
She took a deep, cleansing breath and crossed the threshold into her own bedroom. Too weary to even change into her sleep-robes, Kelia collapsed onto her bed and fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
Chapter Six
E lzor stood on the balcony adjacent to the throne room of the Castle Tynal. Many fires still burned in the city of Talcris, providing more than enough light for him to see the results of the day's work. In the distance, he heard the sounds of several skirmishes still being fought as his soldiers disposed of the last few pockets of resistance that seemed determined to defend their lost cause to the bitter end. Not that it mattered much. His men weren't taking prisoners anyway. The best enemy was always a dead one.
It had taken Elzor many years to achieve this victory, so he allowed himself a moment of contentment. He caressed the soft material of the royal cloak draped across his shoulders, and his smile morphed into a broad grin as he beheld a few drops of blood marring its otherwise clean surface. Only hours ago, he had the satisfaction of tearing this cloak off the beaten, broken body of King Morix, the former ruler of the region. His one regret about the encounter was that Morix hadn't been conscious to witness Elzor drawing a blade across the throat of his stupid gurn of a queen. The former monarch now languished in his own dungeon, manacled to his wife's corpse.
A shuffle of footsteps from behind Elzor tore him away from the scene of his conquest. Turning back, he reentered the throne room.
The place was opulent, with many ornate pieces of artwork and tapestries adorning the walls, which bore a plethora of torches held in place by equally lavish sconces. One wall was dominated by a picture of the now-deceased Queen, which Elzor made a mental note to have removed and burned as soon as possible. His mood improved again when he saw Elzaria and Langon awaiting him.
General Langon was a brute of a man, giant in stature and as thick and tough as a century-old huxa tree. His rough, bearded face bore so many scars that Elzor had stopped imagining what he looked like before they became comrades-in-arms. He stood, stoc
k-still, oblivious to the gash on his upper right arm where an Agrusian soldier had wounded him. Much of his thick kova-leather jerkin was stained with blood as well. Elzor was certain that came from many deceased members of Morix's army.
Elzor sat down on the elaborately-decorated wrought-metal throne and faced them. “Report,” he said, his voice reverberating around the room.
“Our victory is nearly complete, my liege,” said Elzaria, bowing her head as she addressed her brother. “By nightfall, the last remnants of the Agrusian army will either be dead or have fled for the northern forests.”
“Excellent.” Elzor straightened himself up on the throne. “Any sign of our prize?”
“No, my liege,” she replied. “I've had twenty men conduct a thorough search of the castle grounds. They've turned up nothing. However, we have discovered a secret level below the dungeons. We were not aware of this before.”
“I trust you've searched it as well.”
“Of course. There is a massive door at the far end of a corridor. It appears to be built right into the castle's foundation. It bears no keyhole, and it has confounded my every attempt to open it using my Wielding.” She scoffed. “Trust the Agrusians to hide the Stone in the one place that is impervious to my power.”
“No matter.” Elzor waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever's closed can always be opened. Let Morix spend a few more days with his beloved wife, and he'll tell me what I need to know.”
“You've taken his realm, and murdered his queen,” Langon said. “What makes you think he'll tell you anything?”
“I can be … quite persuasive.” Elzor said with a sardonic tone.
“And if he still doesn't tell you?” Elzaria asked.
“Then I'll be even more persuasive.”
Langon nodded. “Should I see to the … other matter, my liege?”
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 3
