by Bridie Blake
“So I have to lead them without knowing them?”
“Ah that’s where it’s tricky,” he said. “You must know their culture intimately. Understand their ways. Why they do things. How they react. Only then will they see you as worthy.”
“How do I do that?”
“I wish I could tell you, but it’s something you’ll have to figure out on your own. Follow your instincts. You’re a good leader, Tempani. Now you can be a great one.”
She lay in bed that night agonizing over what to do. She may have come riding in on a dragon but apparently that wasn’t enough. What else was she supposed to do? They didn’t want her working alongside them. Proving that she was a strong fighter wasn’t going to do it. Kalaowins were supposed to be strong fighters. By fighting with them, she was only showing them that she belonged. Not that she was the one to lead them.
Why was it so hard? She wondered if Nic was facing the same problems in Fenella. Did he have to prove himself? The dull ache in her heart whenever she thought of him was still there. She doubted it would ever go away. What would happen if they saw each other in battle? She knew she couldn’t hurt him. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.
But before they even went to battle she had to convince the Kalaowins that a battle was needed. Most of them were happy to just live deep in the south, away from their Kamari neighbors. They cared not for the blood that had been spilled throughout the feud. What were Kamari lives to them anyway? She needed to change that way of thinking and to do that she had to start at the top. It was her niska who influenced so many here. Start with her and maybe the others would follow. But first she had to understand her niska.
She found her the following day as she finished up her breakfast and fell into step beside her.
“What do you want?” She hissed.
“I’m going to be your shadow. You say I have to earn their respect. Well, I’m going to see how you do it.”
The older woman glared at her.
“I’m just doing what you told me to do.”
She frowned but said nothing so Tempani followed her as she continued on her way. She didn’t say a word as she watched her niska greet each person they came across by name but never dawdled long enough to talk beyond that.
They spent the morning in the forest, picking different herbs for healing. There were many that Tempani had never seen before, and she listened carefully as her niska explained the purpose of each one and where best to find them.
“As the Shiasa, it is my duty to keep my people healthy. Yes, there are others who can heal but none as well as me,” she said proudly. “Each year when I make my journey to the tribes I spend time with their healer and make sure they know everything there is to know.”
“You re-train them every year?”
“If they do not see something often they may forget how to treat it. I drill into them again and again.”
Tempani nodded and then followed her niska back to her tent. Once inside she saw that there was a flap leading into an adjoining tent. In here she found the infirmary. One side was covered with rows and rows of jars containing all the different herbs and medicines she would need.
Sitting amongst all the jars was a dull, grey rock that was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She stood on her toes to reach it but was pulled back by her niska.
“Don’t touch that,” she snapped.
“What does it do? Does it have magic?” She eyed it closely. “It doesn’t look special.”
The older woman glared at her. “It is for the Shiasa only. No one else.”
Tempani frowned at her and then snuck another glance at it when her niska turned her back. It must be powerful if only the Shiasa was allowed to touch it. She wondered what power it contained. Perhaps it was used to contact the other tribes. That would be handy. Or it was a protective charm. Whatever it was, it would belong to her one day.
She beckoned for Tempani to join her at the bench and placed a bowl in front of her. “Here,” she said and handed her the purple leaves she’d identified as opia. “Crush these. I will show you how to treat a burn.”
“Can’t I just use magic?”
She glared at her granddaughter. “And if you are away and there’s no one here to do it? Or what if you have used all your magic and have none left to treat it? You must not always rely on your gifts. Sometimes the natural remedy is just as effective.”
She did as she was told and crushed the leaves before boiling them, adding ingredient after ingredient until her niska was happy with the result.
Tempani wrinkled her nose at the smell wafting from the blue paste. “This really works?”
She snatched it out of her hands. “You be the judge.”
Tempani yelped as her arm grew increasingly hot. Her niska was burning her. She screamed as the searing pain set in before the older woman slapped the cooling paste on the burn. Instantly the pain disappeared.
“When the paste dries, remove it with water, and you’ll be left without a scar.”
She glared at her. “Was that necessary?”
“What’s going on?” Madoc asked as he burst through the flap, Tilaw at his heels.
“Torture,” she snapped.
“Training,” her niska hissed. “Don’t interrupt.”
Madoc’s eyes assessed Tempani, searching for any injuries. “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” she said.
He nodded and left them to it.
“He is not right for you.”
“Huh?” She was too busy inspecting her arm.
“That man. He will not be good for a husband.”
“What are you talking about old woman?” She laughed. “I do not want him for a husband.”
“If you want to be Shiasa, you must choose wisely. Each tribe will send their best man and you choose from them. No one else.”
Tempani frowned as the idea washed over her - being forced to marry not out of love but obligation and only having a handful of men to choose from. It was not dissimilar to the traditions of the Kamaris but at least there she had more options. She wouldn’t be forced to sit there while men were paraded in front of her and at the end of it all choose one of them. She wouldn’t even know him.
She shook her head at her earlier belief that the Kamari way of finding a husband was wrong. Compared to what she would be faced with if she became the Shiasa, it didn’t seem that bad.
They both looked up when they heard a commotion outside. They left the tent and were shocked to find that the sun was beginning to set. They had lost track of the time as they worked alongside one another.
“Tempani!” Chae cried as he stumbled towards her. In his arms he carried a woman, her face blackened with bruises. Her clothes drenched in blood.
“Leandra.” Tempani recognized her friend and rushed to Chae’s side, helping him carry the pregnant dressmaker to the healer’s tent. The Shiasa was already busy clearing space for her.
Colbert came bursting through, screaming for his wife. He hovered over her and smoothed the hair off her face. She let out a cry when she saw him.
“Shh,” he whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”
“The baby.” She turned to Tempani. ‘Save my baby.”
Tempani gulped and looked at her grandmother, the pleading clear in her eyes.
“Put your hands on her stomach,” she directed. “Can you hear the heartbeat?”
Tempani closed her eyes and blocked out all other sounds. She focused on the little beats under her hands. It was faint but it was there.
“It’s alive,” she breathed. “We need to get it out now though.”
“You’re going to cut her open?” Colbert gasped. “She’s lost too much blood already. It’s too risky.”
“If we don’t get it out now, she’ll lose it,” Tempani argued.
“And if you do, I’ll lose her,” he snapped. “Think of something else.”
“There is nothing else. She is losing too much blood. I have to g
et it out if she is to have any hope.”
“Do it,” Leandra croaked. “Save my baby.”
Colbert opened his mouth to object, but the Shiasa spoke first. “Be quiet or get out,” she growled. “Your wife has made her choice clear.”
Tempani held the knife in her quivering hands and raised it to Leandra’s belly. She made a cut along her bump and thrust her hands into her exposed stomach. She clasped her hands around the baby.
“Hold it open!” She screamed as she struggled to free the baby.
Her grandmother rushed forward and with a strength that she conjured from within, she held open the folds of her stomach. Tempani pulled the baby out, but it wasn’t crying.
“He’s stopped breathing. Bring him back. Send a small jolt into his heart. Just a small one.”
She nodded and pressed a finger to his chest. Her body jerked as she sent some of her life force into the baby. Nothing happened. She heard Leandra screaming behind her. Tempani panicked. She had to save this baby for her. This time she pressed two fingers against his chest. They both jolted. The sound of his wail brought tears to her eyes. She held him out and placed him on Leandra’s chest.
“He’s beautiful,” she cooed.
Colbert crouched down and placed his head against Leandra’s. “I love you,” he whispered. “You were braver than me.”
“Only wiser,” she murmured.
“Tempani,” her niska called out as blood gushed from Leandra.
The older woman held the folds of her stomach closed as Dahlia stitched it together. Tempani disappeared inside herself and tried to mend her insides. They were a mess. She tried to find the source of all the bleeding. Leandra’s life force flickered faintly.
Tempani screamed in her head, urging Leandra to stay with her, but she was moving further and further from her. She had crossed over. Tempani saw Tritus welcoming her with open arms. Leandra glanced back and smiled at her before taking the God’s hand and they were gone.
Tempani staggered backwards, her hands covered in blood. She stared at the mess she was standing in and felt the bile rising in her throat. The screeching cries of the baby rang in her ears, and she covered them in an effort to drown it out. To drown out the cries of a man who had lost the most important thing in the world. She couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t bear to be near him after she’d failed him.
She ran from the tent. Tears streamed down her face, and as they did, droplets of rain fell from the sky that had been blue moments ago. She ignored her friends calling after her as she ran for the river, Tilaw at her heels.
She heard the gong behind her to signal a death, and it brought her tears down harder. She plunged into the water, watching the blood as it washed from her body and drifted down the stream.
She let out a scream. Her powers were supposed to make her stronger. She should have been able to save Leandra as well as the baby; otherwise what was the use of being a sorceress? She wasn’t supposed to have limitations. She was powerful! Why hadn’t the Goddess helped her and given her more strength so she could save them both? Wasn’t she her vessel? She should have been better equipped.
Tilaw whined from the bank. I know. I don’t want to cause a flood, do I? But she couldn’t ebb the flow. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she tried to gulp in between racking sobs. The rain pelted down around her, the drops bouncing off the water.
She scrubbed at her arms, desperate to rid herself of Leandra’s blood. She couldn’t have it on her a moment longer. It wasn’t coming off. She dove under the water completely to fetch a rock she could use. She came back up, choking for air.
“Get off!” She screamed as she ran the rock over her arms, scratching them with each stroke. They now bled, and she could no longer tell what belonged to Leandra and what was hers.
She heard a faint splash as someone waded into the water behind her. A pair of arms grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, forcing her into an embrace and ripping the rock from her hand.
“I failed,” she wept. “I couldn’t…”
Chae held her up as her body shook, a fresh wave of tears taking hold. He offered no words of comfort for he knew none would make a difference. He simply held her until she had no tears left.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You did all you could.”
“It just wasn’t enough,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “It will never be enough. I will never be enough.”
He pulled away from her and stooped to her eye level. “Don’t ever think that. Do you hear me?” He shook her until she nodded. “Come on. You’re soaked through.”
The flames grew higher as Leandra’s body became nothing more than a pile of ashes. Tempani stood beside a stony-faced Colbert. She reached out and took his hand, but she knew he couldn’t feel it. The numbness had set in with him, and he was heading down a path so dark that it could destroy him.
On his other side, Thara struggled to keep the baby quiet, a baby that had still not been held by his father. Despite not knowing Leandra, tears fell freely from her eyes.
The elder, Freloha sang the Kalaowin death song, her beautiful voice rising over the sobs of Dahlia. Without even knowing it, Leandra had died a Kalaowin death. She had chosen her son’s life over hers. She had chosen her death.
The Shiasa had asked Colbert how he wanted his wife buried. If he had requested a Kamari burial then she would have been given that, but he no longer wanted anything to tie him to the Kamari world. They had beaten his wife savagely as they interrogated her and left a child without a mother. From this point on, he was Kalaowin.
Yuta, Darby’s footman, was a mask of fury. He had gone to the safehouse where Leandra had been placed only to find her broken body huddled in the bedroom. He had ridden for days to reach the tribe, but it had been too late.
As Freloha’s voice faded, her niska stepped forward with her niski one step behind her. She doused the flames and gathered the ashes. She hobbled somberly over to Colbert and offered them to him.
Colbert took them from her hands and stepped off to the side. He held them above his head and allowed his wife’s remains to catch in the wind and drift to their final resting place. He placed the urn back on the ground and walked away.
Tempani went to follow him, but her niski grabbed her arm. “He needs to grieve on his own.”
She sighed and nodded, understanding his need, so she followed her friends and sat at camp as they mourned a woman who had been taken from the world too soon.
Tempani and Dahlia entertained the others with stories of Leandra - of the conversations they shared, the way she sang to herself as she worked and the private jokes she shared with her husband.
“She was a wonderful friend,” she said quietly. “It’s strange to think that I’m never going to see her again. Or get advice from her.”
“No one is lost in death,” Freloha said.
Her voice made Tempani jump. She had not realized anyone else had joined them, but when she looked up, she saw that the tribe had gathered.
“They live on through our stories. We must never be so sad in grief that we can’t talk about them.”
“After someone in the tribe is gone, we all gather and share our memories of them,” said Dimpa. “We did not know her so we have listened to your stories instead, and now her memory lives on with all of us.”
“Often tribes will gather to remember someone who has belonged to both,” her niski explained. “When I am gone my former tribe will come together with this family and remember me. You have shared Leandra with a Kalaowin tribe and your Kamari tribe. That is very special.”
Tempani smiled sadly as she looked around her. Would all these people gather to remember her when she passed on?
The stories and drinking went long into the night. Her friends sat amongst the tribe, and she watched the defenses dropping. Through this tragedy, a new union could be forming.
Tempani squeezed in next to Dahlia and rested her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Tell me a happy story,” she whisp
ered. “I need to be reminded of the good things in this world.”
“What would you like to hear? A tale of fairies or beautiful princesses? A triumph of good over evil?”
“Something real. Tell me how you fell in love with Chae.”
“That’s an easy one.” Dahlia smiled and pressed her lips to Tempani’s head. “It was Xanthir that first caught my eye. He finally asked me to a ball, and I thought I might die from the excitement of it all. In my head I was planning our wedding. Imagine that!”
“I can’t imagine you married to him.”
“And for good reason. He is lovely, but as you know, he is, well he’s Xanthir.”
“You can call him arrogant, Dahlia.” She shook her head, still amazed by her friend’s kindness. “And he loves women.”
“Well, yes, and at the ball he spent most of the evening chatting to Lady Jessamy, who had accompanied Madoc. I was heartbroken and sat there quietly as he led her away to dance.”
“I would have said something.”
“You’re braver than me.”
“And you’re kinder than me.”
“You think too highly of me,” she whispered. “I was left at the table with Chae, and I was terrified. I was brought up to fear and hate your people, and your brother was intimidating. He had barely spoken through dinner, and if he had, it was only to Madoc or Xanthir. I now know that he was like that because they, and Nic, were the only people who ever spoke to him.”
Tempani frowned, sad for her brother as she thought of him sitting there each night feeling alone. Just as she had in the convent.
“I got all flustered with the silence and ended up blurting out a question about horses because I knew Kalaowins liked animals. And he gave me that smile of his that still makes my stomach flutter and told me a story of the two of you.”
