“Not bad, eh?” He flicked his hair back dramatically, a look of pure masculine pride on his face. “If only Emma Donnelly could see me now.”
“Yeah, if only.” Maeve strode forward, wrapping him in a brief but warm hug and kissing his cheek. “Time to break out the razor, I guess.”
“No way,” he replied, stroking his infant facial hair. “Girls love a young guy with a man-stache. I'm sure there are plenty of medieval lasses on this planet that would die to get a piece of this.”
Maeve lifted her hands up to her collar, unfastening the snaps that kept her blue coveralls in place. Working downward, she eventually undid enough for her to step out of them. She handed them over, and he immediately began putting them on.
“Sorry, Romeo,” she said. “The people on this planet may look like us, but I don't think we'd blend in very well.” She gestured to her purple hair and tattoos. “They'd probably call me a witch and burn me at the stake or something.”
“Killjoy.” Davin did up the snaps on the coveralls' collar and tugged on the fabric so that it stretched over his frame perfectly. “What time's lunch?”
“I'll have it ready for you by the time the dust compartments are full, promise. But right now, I'm going for a swim.”
He scrunched up his face in disgust. “Fine. Just wait for me to go down the tunnel before you start showing off your goodies, okay, Mom?”
“Get your butt to work,” she said drily, “and give yourself a dose of anti-UV medicament, will ya? Your face looks redder than your hair.” Then she walked toward the lake.
She rubbed her temples with her hand. The pain-blocker she took earlier was wearing off, and her head was starting to throb again. But first she needed to soak her body in the cool water.
Thankful for the thick clouds that had just arrived to block the sun, Maeve approached the water's edge. She'd enjoyed several swims since their arrival, and it always did wonders for her energy.
Behind her, the sound of the excavator drifted from the cave mouth as Davin began his shift. She'd come to hate that sound, as it invariably made her headaches worse.
Maeve used her feet to remove her work boots and socks. Then she unfastened the belt at her waist and stripped off her pants. Finally, she pulled off her black tank top. Standing on the shore of the lake in nothing but her underwear, she dipped a cautious toe into the water and smiled. The temperature was perfect.
She stretched her back muscles, staring at the natural beauty of the high-walled basin that held the magnificent lake.
This planet may suck sometimes, but there are much worse places we could have ended up.
Drawing in a deep breath, she slid out of her underwear and, with a girlish squeal, bounded forward into the water, diving headfirst when she reached waist-deep depth.
She dove downward, touching the lake bottom that sloped toward the center of the basin. Then she swam up to the surface, breaking through with a satisfied smile.
The water had clumped her hair together in front of her face, so she whipped it back behind her head with a flourish. Wading back to the shore, she looked up at the sky, which was a beautiful shade of blue. She could make out the sound of birds cawing in the distance.
As the droplets of water cascaded back to the lake, Maeve suddenly became keenly aware of her body. She used her hands to trace the shape of her breasts, admiring the white-tailed kite and the harrier hawk tattooed on her sternum. She loved her birds, as each tattoo marked a special occasion in her life. Unable to resist, she gave her left nipple a squeeze.
And then the strangest thing happened.
Something that sounded like a breath of wind swept across the lake, filling her ears. But there was no wind. Just the sound, as if God himself had exhaled on their little corner of the universe.
She looked up, incredulous, hoping to locate the source of the sound. But there was nothing. Her eyes scanned the rim of the basin above her.
There, on a high ridge to her right, stood a figure.
Maeve blinked her eyes as several drops of water trickled down from her hair. Wiping them away with the backs of her hands, she focused on the spot where she saw the mysterious apparition.
It was still there: someone standing on the rim of the canyon, staring down at her.
But something was wrong. As Maeve shaded her eyes from the sun, she found herself unable to focus. The figure was indistinct, as if it were both there and not there.
Maeve stepped out of the lake, water falling off her naked body as her feet found damp dirt. She never took her eyes off the figure.
It was a woman.
Saints alive, it's her. The woman from the cave. From my dreams.
She wore the same reddish-brown robe, and her dark hair was done up in a similar braid. She had beautiful, tanned skin and a regal bearing.
It was her. It had to be.
Warm air pricked at Maeve's skin as the cool water continued to drip from her body, and she felt a tiny insect land on her shoulder. She absently swatted at it, and it flew away with a buzz.
Maeve quickly looked back toward the spot where she'd seen the woman, but she was no longer there; evaporated like a mirage.
Still uncomfortable, she began putting her clothes back on.
Who is this woman? Why am I seeing her?
Am I going insane?
Chapter Nineteen
A fter midday meal, Kelia paid a visit to the Room of Healing, where Lyala was brewing several herbal teas over a small fire. In addition to being a wonderful healer and apothecary, much like her mother Katura, she was also a master of tea-brewing, a job made much easier thanks to several kettles she'd procured on the second of her two Sojourns. Her first produced a daughter, Sershi, whose healing abilities seemed to improve with every season. On her second, however, she'd borne a son.
For Lyala, giving up her infant son to his father was extremely difficult, as it often was for Ixtrayu mothers who bore male children. It took a long time for her to accept it, but this had been the tribe's way since the days of Soraya. Lyala, unlike her mother, was quite delicate in disposition and in manner. She was tall and slender, with long, dark hair, narrow cheekbones and very little muscle on her frame. Sershi, if it was even possible, was even more willowy.
Kelia was glad to be informed that, thanks to Sershi's ministrations, Talya's leg was now healed, and she would resume her gathering duties immediately. Kelia thanked the two healers, chose two sachets of jingal-root tea from a table in the corner and placed them in a pouch on her belt before exiting.
She strode down the path toward the fields, heading for the section where the juva-berry bushes grew. It pleased her to see Nyla, deep in concentration as she maneuvered a ball of water three feet in diameter from the belly of the river. As Kelia watched, Nyla thrust her elbows outward, splaying her fingers. The water flattened and elongated into a straight line, moving steadily over its target: a nearly-ripe row of bushes. Nyla then clapped her hands together, and the ribbon burst into a fine mist, which rained down in small droplets upon the bushes.
Kelia was all smiles as she closed the distance between herself and Nyla, who finally noticed her. “Mother! Did you see that? Did you see what I did?” She was practically jumping for joy.
“I saw,” Kelia said, giving her daughter a brief hug. “That was quite impressive. I don't think I could have done better myself.”
Nyla beamed. “Thank you, Mama.”
Kelia tapped Nyla lovingly on the chin with her thumb. Then she turned her attention to an attractive, fair-haired, blue-eyed young woman standing about five yards away. “You've done well, Yarji. Nyla's water-wielding abilities have never been better.”
“Thank you, Protectress,” she said, bowing. “I know sending her to me was meant as punishment, but …” she glanced at Nyla, “… we've gotten along well. We've turned watering duty into a game, of sorts.”
“Really?” Kelia quirked an eyebrow. “Who was the victor?”
Nyla raised her hand. Her grin s
till hadn't gone away.
Kelia laughed. “Well, then, it seems you've found a duty you enjoy. If you like, you may keep doing it.”
Nyla cast a glance at Yarji. “What do you say? Think you can beat me next time?”
“Let's find out,” Yarji replied with a half-grin, half-glare.
Kelia produced the two sachets of tea from her belt and handed them to Yarji. “Here. Two bags of jingal-root tea. The perfect remedy for fatigue.”
Yarji took the tea, and her face became sad. “I've–I've been meaning to apologize, Protectress. When the fire started, I should have been the first one to react. But I … I panicked. It all happened so fast. Thank Arantha you came along.”
“What of the bushes themselves? Were they destroyed?”
“Not completely, Protectress. The berries were consumed by the fire, but the roots remain. With luck, they will bear fruit again by this time next year.”
Kelia nodded. “That is good.”
“So … am I forgiven?” Nyla asked.
“You are forgiven, duma. Both of you are forgiven.” She placed a hand on Nyla's shoulder. “One more hour, and then back to Liana for your history lesson. All right?”
“Yes, mama,” Nyla said. “Where are you going?”
She gestured down the path alongside the river to the tree line, where the expansive forest began. “To the clearing. Runa said she had something to show me.” She faced Nyla again. “Keep up the good work. See you at evening meal.”
As Kelia walked away, her mouth morphed into a radiant, maternal smile.
* * *
Over the next several hours, Kelia walked the length and breadth of the Ixtrayu's territory, speaking to many tribe members as part of her daily routine. Many of them smiled and bowed respectfully in greeting, but there was an underlying tension in the air, which she attributed to the escalating concern over the Sojourns. Other than that, though, all was well: the fruit and grain crops were proliferating, they had enough preserved kova meat to last them three months, and Nyla had apparently found something to occupy her time that she enjoyed more than studying scrolls or causing mayhem.
As the sun began its descent below the crest of the plateau, Kelia decided to bathe herself in the cistern. The water was, again, as warm as the dry air, but she was able to cool it down so she and several of her sisters could enjoy a nice cool bath as the afternoon came to an end.
Having done up her hair into a simple braid and donned a clean robe, Kelia trod the southern path leading back to the village. Suddenly thirsty, she contemplated returning to the apothecary for another sachet of tea to go along with her evening meal. As she passed the entrance to the cave where the Stone was housed, however, she stopped.
She shuddered, ever so slightly, as a wave of strange energy rippled through her. Facing the cave entrance, she noticed the faintest of glows emanating from within.
As the only living Ixtrayu—-apart from, eventually, Nyla, she presumed—-with the gift of foresight, the Stone usually only became luminescent when she laid her hands upon it or when she was near enough to do so. The Stone had not glowed on its own during Kelia's entire reign as Protectress. In fact, it had only occurred once in Onara's lifetime.
Several years before Kelia was born, a monstrous sandstorm—-the most violent in Ixtrayu history—-blew in from the desert. The Stone warned Onara only hours before the storm hit. The food packed into the plateau's storage room survived, but most of the crops were destroyed. Two Ixtrayu and three chavas lost their lives.
Kelia walked, mesmerized, into the cave, making her way over to the pedestal of rock that formed the base upon which the Stone sat. The glow intensified with every step she took, illuminating the cave in a gentle white hue. Her breath caught in her throat.
Arantha is calling to me. Could this … could this be the moment where she reveals the answer we've been waiting for?
Stepping forward, she recited a brief prayer: “I bask in your divine presence, O Arantha, for I am your humble servant.” Then she clasped her hands around the Stone, and the light radiating from within it became so bright, she was forced to close her eyes. She also felt the Stone become warm, almost hot, as images poured into her mind.
The first images, though blurred at the edges, were familiar, as she felt herself gliding across the desert floor, faster than any animal could run, faster than any bird could fly, towards the Kaberian Mountains. As with her previous vision, she reached the base of the easternmost peak and then soared upward, flying low over the hills and valleys of this inhospitable, largely unexplored region.
After a few moments, she spied the same mountain lake she saw that morning. Her heart pounded as she approached the threshold, the farthest she'd ever gone. At long last, the nature of the object she'd witnessed from the western outcropping would be revealed to her.
She cleared another peak, and then her speed slowed as she glided down to ground level. The sight was breathtaking, marred only by the same crunching, grinding noise she'd heard before.
The mountain lake lay beneath her, clear blue water lapping against the rocky walls of the enormous basin that held it. As picturesque as it was, however, it was what lay near the western edge of the lake that stole Kelia's attention.
A short distance from the lake were a table and two chairs, right next to two square-shaped devices whose function she couldn't begin to imagine. Further away, nestled between two peaks, sitting on a riverbed that looked to have gone dry centuries ago, was … she didn't have words to describe it. It was gigantic. Black and silver in color, it resembled a bird. An enormous bird, to be sure: it had to be almost a hundred feet from end to end.
And it was made of metal. Metal. Forging ten thousand longswords would require less metal than this object.
Great Arantha. This thing … did come from the Above. It must have.
Kelia considered for a moment that the thing might be alive. After all, who knew what form beings from the Above might take? Still, the thing did not appear to be moving, and as her vision brought her even closer, she saw someone exit the belly of the thing and walk towards the mouth of a nearby cave.
This … person—-for it appeared to have the size and shape of an Elystran—-was tall, with pale skin that looked like it bore a rather unhealthy sunburn. Its hair was long, dark red in color, and its clothes were unusual. It wore neither robes nor a tunic, but dark pants of a material she'd never seen before, and a loose-fitting white shirt.
The vision shifted slightly, and Kelia caught her first sight of the mysterious being's face.
It was a man.
No, not a man; a boy. His face was youthful, freckled and handsome. She guessed that he could be no more than a year or two older than Nyla, assuming his kind aged the same way Elystrans did. And he looked to be quite tall, almost as tall as Runa.
She followed the boy as he neared the mouth of the cave. He smiled as a second person exited, wearing a blue outfit that hugged her body from the neck down. From her face, she appeared to be considerably older than the boy. They exchanged a few words as they neared each other, but Kelia couldn't hear them. The boy pointed at his face, and the woman laughed and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The boy's mother, perhaps?
The woman stripped the blue outfit off of her body and handed it to the boy, who immediately stepped into it, putting it on over his own clothes. To Kelia's amazement, the fabric seemed to stretch to fit his frame as perfectly as it did the woman's. The pair exchanged a few more words, and then the boy disappeared into the cave. A few moments later, the grinding, crunching sound resumed.
What are they doing? Why have they come to Elystra? Are there others?
Kelia watched as the woman approached the lake. Her face looked haggard, exhausted. When she reached the water's edge, she unfastened the belt at her waist and tugged her pants down. Then, using both hands, she peeled off her sleeveless, tight black shirt, baring her breasts.
Even though the woman resembled that of an Elystran female in ev
ery noticeable way, her body was quite unlike any Kelia had ever seen. Her arms, her back, her torso, even her breasts bore strange bird designs drawn upon her very skin. She also had numerous scars marring her voluptuous frame, the largest being a diagonal-shaped scar, a hand-span in length, on her back and shoulder blade. It made Kelia wince to see it. And her hair … it was purple, a deeper purple than even the wildflowers that grew in the forest.
The woman dipped her toe into the water, testing the temperature. She then removed her final undergarment and sprinted into the water, diving in head-first after a few paces. A few seconds later she emerged again with a smile on her face.
Kelia felt her breath become shallow. This woman was fascinating. Beautiful. Exotic.
As Kelia watched, the woman ran her hands over her breasts, fondling them.
Kelia felt her heart start to pound as desirous thoughts flooded her mind. Unable to contain it, a deep, cleansing, almost wanton breath escaped Kelia's lungs.
In that same instant, though, the woman's smile vanished. With a look of dismay, she cast her eyes skyward.
Kelia followed her gaze, but saw nothing. She then glanced at the alien woman again, and was shocked to see that she was no longer looking upward.
The woman was staring directly at her.
Though she was still locked within her vision, Kelia felt her hands shaking.
No. The woman couldn't be looking at her. It was impossible. And yet, the woman's gaze remained fixed in her direction. Kelia saw utter surprise on her face, which gently morphed into one of … recognition?
And just like that, the vision ended. Kelia removed her hands from the Stone, breathing heavily as the light within diminished and faded. She was distressed to find her whole body was trembling and her face was drenched with sweat.
Suddenly unsteady on her feet, she sat down on a ledge of rock a few paces away from the Stone.
She saw me.
This woman … saw me.
How is this possible?
Chapter Twenty
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 13
