“The wounds have been treated and are no longer life threatening. We are just keeping an eye on the poison. I have managed to control it slightly, but there is so much. We are not certain if she is out of danger yet with that or not.”
“My dear, Leyna – it has been eating me up inside since I heard what happened. It was supposed to be me guarding the Prince…”
“Oh, Feolan, stop,” she sighed, smiling up at him. He leaned in to her, kissing her gently on the cheek in greeting. “This mess is no one’s fault but my own. I cannot have everyone blaming themselves. You will all make me feel bad.”
Noticing the limited movement available to her, Feolan remained standing at her side, his eyes gazing down at her sadly. “You will be impossible to replace, you know that right?”
“Then do not replace me. I will be back on my feet in no time to help you force the Namiren to surrender.”
“A brave thought, Leyna, but I think you and I both know that won’t be the case,” he frowned, squeezing her limp fingers in his hand. It hurt her to admit he was right. When she was lying there, it was easy to convince herself it was nothing and that she would be fine. Hearing it spoken only made the truth that much harder, forcing her to realize she was far from fine. Recovery would be a slow and tedious process.
“If you absolutely must replace me, I only ask that you not promote Teagan. There would be no living with him if you did.”
Feolan chuckled to himself, the mournful look remaining in his eyes despite the sound of his laughter. She could tell he still held himself responsible for her condition; and it hurt him even more to know that she would be leaving them. “I will not be replacing you, so you need not worry about Teagan’s ego suffocating us all.”
“You will both write to me at least. I think the thought of leaving my friends behind hurts more than this silly poison.” It wasn’t a lie, when she really thought about it. The truth was still sinking in. She refused to cry about it, though. They couldn’t see her cry. If she had to leave, she wanted them to remember her as a strong soldier and not a weeping child. Their respect for her mattered more than anything when it came to her acceptance of herself.
“Of course,” Feolan nodded. “But the nurse is telling me that it is time for you to rest. You take care of yourself, alright?”
She didn’t want them to go. Even more, she didn’t want to rest. She was tired of resting. Her body had been asleep for days and the last thing she wanted was to lose any more time to unconsciousness. “Do you have to leave? I am quite fine with having visitors for a bit longer.”
Feolan’s face disappeared from her vision, replaced a moment later with Thade’s solemn eyes staring down at her worriedly. “We have to check on your wounds and perform another procedure to try and fight back the poison. The nurse is going to give you something which will make you drowsy and if we are lucky, will help you to sleep so that the pain will not be quite so severe.”
So that was why they were making him leave. They didn’t want to have an audience during her torture. Something was being pressed against her lips, a warm thick liquid pouring into her mouth. The mixture was disgusting. She couldn’t place the combination of herbs and other medicinal components that mingled on her tongue, nearly choking her from the lack of cooperation of her throat in swallowing. The muscles weren’t functioning normally, taking significantly longer to recognize that the fluid needed to be taken into her body.
If she could have moved to vomit, she would have. The taste was repulsive. Her weighted limbs were the only thing which prevented her from spitting it back in the nurse’s face. She lay there miserably, fighting the depression that tried to creep into the depths of her mind. She was tired of pain. All she wanted was to go to sleep and wake up in her tent to find that it had all been just a horrible nightmare.
Chapter Six
The ground was cool and uneven under her bare feet, the soft breeze blowing through the thin white fabric of her simple dress as if it wasn’t even there, chilling her skin all over. The sleeves were short, ending just under the shoulder. A scar on her left arm was fully visible; a reminder of the fateful day which had brought her to this moment. The moment where she would finally be accepted by her people as a woman.
She was dressed in the traditional gown worn by young girls during their rite of passage into adulthood. It was a plain garment, the threads free of any dyes or impurities, sewn by her own hands. The hem hung down to the ground, brushing lightly over the uncovered tops of her feet. A small satchel was draped over her shoulder, containing the only articles she was allowed to carry with her for the ritual. Lady Faustine had thoroughly gone over every detail of what Leyna would be required to do. It was important she not forget anything. She was already four years late for completing the ritual due to so many factors which had hindered her in her lessons.
Lady Faustine was very strict in that no girl under her care would be able to take the step into womanhood without having fully mastered everything she felt they needed before entering society. Leyna’s lack of experience in etiquette and knowledge of the culture had been a large setback to her, preventing her from moving on with the other girls her age. Lady Faustine had been appalled by the habits she picked up while living on her own and detested even more the fact that she’d served in the military. She had been lacking in almost all social graces expected of a lady.
Leyna was still getting used to the feeling of wearing her hair down around her shoulders. At home, Lady Faustine couldn’t argue her preference of wearing it up, but for the ritual it was imperative that it remain unadorned and natural. After so many years of neglecting it, the thick strands hung down below her waist in gentle waves, standing out against the stark white of her dress.
Her stomach rumbled hungrily. She had been disallowed from eating anything since the night before, the ritual requiring at least two full days of fasting. The first day had been spent finding her way through the Tanispan forests, seeking out the Lake of the Gods. There she would sit in silence until the morning had come.
The lake held an eerie glow under the moonlight, the soft ripples floating lightly across the surface under the gentle breeze. Lowering her satchel down onto the soft grass, she slowly knelt at the water line, preparing herself for the long night. It was a test of patience. Once there, she could not move, or make any sound to disturb the scene around her. To do so would risk the ire of the gods.
Throughout the night she wondered how anyone could ever know if the ritual had been performed correctly. Being so far away from the lights of the city of Sivaeria, no one would be aware if the girl failed to keep still or uttered even the slightest breath of noise. But the gods would know. And if the girl attempted to continue the ritual after having failed the first task, it was possible that it could end poorly for her. She had heard the stories of young girls who never returned from their journey. No one could ever truly say what had happened to them. Leyna had to wonder if the stories were nothing but tales thought up to frighten girls into following every direction precisely in fear of falling prey to the dangers of disobeying.
By the time the sun had started to rise above the horizon, every inch of her body ached, desperate to move. She held her posture perfectly still until the sun was fully visible in the sky, a sigh of relief escaping her lips to know that the first task was complete.
Reaching down to her side, she lifted the flap of her satchel, drawing out a small ceremonial dagger. Pressing her hair between her left thumb and index finger, she brought the blade across it in a single cut. It was finely sharpened, slicing easily through the delicate strands. Content with the outcome, she placed the dagger on top of the satchel, keeping it ready for when she might need it again.
Carefully she moved the lock of hair over to the palm of her right hand. Concentrating the internal energy of her body toward it, she envisioned it engulfed in flames over her skin. The fire came easily to her. Of all the lessons Lady Faustine had taught her, it was the utilization of the Vor’shai m
agic which had come most naturally. For someone who had been so oblivious to its existence for so many years, her mind was surprisingly in tune with it, able to bend and shape it to her will with minimal effort. She watched the hair go up in smoke, the flames bursting from her palm in a bright flash before dissipating, leaving only ashes behind.
Picking up the dagger again, she pressed the tip of it into the flat of her right index finger until a spot of blood appeared over her pale skin. In a short motion, she pulled the blade down along the skin, creating a half-inch cut across her finger. Gathering the blood onto the metal, she wiped it against the ashes in her palm, mingling the remains of the hair with the thick, sticky substance.
She quietly incanted a prayer to the gods, offering up her sacrifice to them. Upon finishing, she traced a circle into the ground with the dagger, placing the blood soaked ashes of her hair in the center. Cupping her hands, she pushed the dirt inside the circle over the mixture, burying it under the moist earth.
As she rose to her feet, particles of grass and soil stuck to her dress, marring the garment in a perfect outline of where her knees had rested upon it. The easy part of the rite was done. Only one last task stood in her way of becoming a woman, and it was the most difficult of all. She believed that if any of the stories had been true about the young girls who failed to please the gods, it was the lake which had claimed them.
Holding her head up high, she took a small step into the cool waters of the lake. Her toes sank into the moist sand of the bottom. The water was clear and clean, allowing her to see down to where her feet disappeared under the ground. She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come, moving slowly out to the center of the water. She was surprised to find the deepest point came up no further than her chest, giving her a brief reassurance that she would be safe before she knelt down, submerging her head completely under the surface.
Lady Faustine had warned that it was the mind which could overpower a young girl during this task. The mind could cause the body to go into a panic before any trust could be shown to the gods. Everything in nature was filled with energy, including the waters of the lake. It was with a peaceful mind that she had to show faith in the gods and trust that they would not allow the water to take her life. This was a holy place. The location where her ancestors had come to perform the same rite over hundreds of years. A piece of their spirit was considered to be left within the depths of the water as a gift to the gods, remaining behind to guide her.
She saw how easily panic could destroy everything. Her lungs burned for oxygen, which she purposely deprived herself of. A nagging part of her mind told her that if she just stood up, the pain would go away. But she couldn’t. She had to do this; though she wasn’t entirely sure what to expect if she were to succeed. It seemed hopeless… lacking in any direction for her to follow to know if she had properly received the approval of the gods.
Clearing her mind, she choked back on her fear of drowning in the shallow lake. She tried to picture herself above the water, breathing the fresh air into her lungs. Familiar faces flashed before her eyes, gazing back at her with gentle expressions. She could see her mother staring at her solemnly through her deep blue eyes. Is this what it feels like when you die? A soft pressure could be felt against her shoulders, like a pair of hands standing behind her, holding her comfortingly. The burning in her lungs started to ease, her mind envisioning the water pushing away from her body. It took several moments before she realized she was breathing again, the cool forest air rushing into her desperate lungs.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, afraid of doing anything that would ruin it all. Gasping quietly, she found the water had parted, held in place by an invisible barrier powered by the peaceful urging of her mind. She could still feel the pressure of the hands upon her shoulders, guiding her back to her feet. It all felt like a dream. She feared she had lost consciousness under the water and that none of what she could see was real.
With cautious steps she made her way back toward the shore. The barrier protecting her from the water followed until she reached dry land, the last of the lake filling in behind her. She had passed – yet she felt little difference aside from the biting cold of the cool air blowing against her wet dress. Had it really been her mother? It had all felt so real. Confusion at how it had even come to pass made it hard to believe that she’d ever really seen anything. There was no denying that she’d felt something, though. The thought of it being her mother brought her hope after so many years. Her mother’s spirit was still with her, the energy of her life force returned to the earth after death.
In a daze she reached down to gather up the ceremonial dagger from the ground, wiping the blade in the grass before placing it back into the satchel. She had come a long way over the years. It was hard to believe it had been eleven years since she’d celebrated her birthday at the tavern in Siscal, surrounded by her friends in a drunken stupor. Although she was grateful for the education that had been given to her, she missed the life she’d had back then. A life where no one cared if she put her elbows on the table or ate her food with her fingers.
As she set off into the woods toward home, she found herself lost in the memories of the events which had brought her to where she was now. It had taken the Eykanua orphanage until only recently to respond to the letters she’d been sending almost religiously in attempts to make contact with Reina. They told her that Reina had left them when she turned nineteen, giving no details about where she was heading. It hit Leyna deeply in her heart to think that Reina had never written her back. The head of the orphanage assured her that every letter had been personally delivered into Reina’s hands. So why had she chosen to leave Leyna wondering if her messages were being received? It was such a cruel thing for her to have done. But it was hard to know what Reina was thinking. She probably believed Leyna had abandoned her after so many years.
Occasionally she still received letters from Feolan and Thade back in Siscal. Lady Faustine would collect them until finally she would break down and allow Leyna to read them. She felt it was inappropriate for men to be communicating with a girl of her age. Not yet a woman, and still within the ages where she was not to be seen in society. Every stack of letters had been met with the same lecture about how she should toss them into the fire and disallow Leyna from reading their “ungentlemanly correspondence.”
In their writing, they celebrated their victory over the Namiren. The final battles had taken them to Namorea for the better part of a year before King Galidric had agreed to discuss peace. Upon returning to Siscal, they remained on watch for stubborn Sanarik soldiers who would still sneak into the city and attempt to gain revenge for the loss of their people. It had taken over five years before Queen Nesperiti proclaimed the time of war to be over, relieving Thade and Feolan of their duties for the time.
For his exemplary service and performance in the war, Queen Vorsila had granted Thade the position of Consul in Siscal, acting as her voice within the borders of their neighboring country. When she had last heard from Feolan, he was accepting a position as Thade’s assistant, safely removing both of them from the dangers of military life. Leyna rested easier knowing that her friends were safe, even if she couldn’t know what fate had befallen Reina.
By the time she reached the carriage waiting for her outside the forest, her feet were sore and aching from the sticks and jagged rocks she’d been stepping on throughout her journey. She felt weak from her lack of food and water over the past two days. Food wouldn’t be available to her again until morning at the earliest. Lady Faustine would make sure that the fasting period was completed properly.
The trip back home would be long enough to take her through most of the night. She was too excited about having successfully performed the rite to even think about sleeping; not that she was allowed to.
It wasn’t until the sun had started to lighten the horizon on a new day that her eyes began to feel heavy, reminded of how physically exhausted she was. Sunrise was nearly upo
n her by the time they reached the path of the quaint little house. A small puff of smoke from the chimney came as a welcoming sight to Leyna’s tired and frozen body. Rustling noises could be heard coming from a tiny building in the back where the newly accepted girls to Lady Faustine’s care slept. It was around the time that they would be getting up, preparing themselves for the morning meal in the main house.
Food no longer sounded appetizing. Her stomach was aching from hunger but the desire to sleep was overpowering even her need for sustenance. It took too much effort to lift her feet as she walked toward the front door of the house, allowing them to drag behind her loudly over the gravel. Such an unladylike behavior, but she didn’t care. She was home. Lady Faustine could lecture her after she’d had some sleep.
Before she could open the door, it swung inward, revealing the face of a young woman staring back at her excitedly. Her dark emerald green eyes sparkled in the morning light with dark circles hanging heavily underneath them from lack of sleep. Her long black hair was tousled about her head, hanging in a disheveled fashion over one side of her face. “Leyna! You made it!”
“Maeri, you did not wait up for me all night, I hope?” she chuckled, accepting the woman’s warm embrace. “I told you to get some sleep and that I would be just fine. Now here I am – just fine – and you look a mess.”
“Yes, well, if anything happened to you, I would be left here all alone with these snobby new girls and I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 16
