Basiyr: Chronicles of Nahtan: Book 6 (The Herridon Chronicles)

by Kramer, D. L.

  "It's close?" she offered.

  "Who has it?" Nahtan repeated.

  "His name is Areli," Korrie answered. "He's one of Halona's servants. He asked me to steal it for him."

  "If he's one of Halona's servants, why didn't he just take it himself?" Nahtan asked her.

  "I don't know," she shook her head. "He just asked me to."

  "Are you happy with that now?" Garren asked him.

  "Why can't you just stop stealing things?" Nahtan asked Korrie.

  Korrie gave him a slight shrug. "Why can't you stop killing people?"

  Nahtan stopped, her response bringing his thoughts to a dead stop. He hadn't always been like that. He hadn't ever shrank from battle or killing when it was needed, but he could remember a time when it hadn't been the answer to everything for him. Had he really gone so far from Mo'ani's Way?

  He met Korrie's eyes for a moment, shaking his head.

  "I'm sorry," he told her, then turned and walked away. He heard their surprised and quiet voices behind him as he walked. He wanted to run, to get as far away from everyone he'd hurt as he could, but he knew he wouldn't make it far with the wound in his chest. He turned when he heard footsteps running to catch up to him. Brijade fell into step beside him.

  "What was that?" she asked him, her voice concerned.

  "Please just leave me alone," he told her. He continued walking, wishing she'd leave.

  "Nahtan, stop." Brijade took hold of his arm, pulling him to a stop. "What was that?"

  "Tell Garren I'm sorry for not trusting him," he told her. "He never gave me reason not to. I just wanted to see the bad in Korrie, and never stopped to remember the good in him."

  Brijade studied his face and after a moment, he looked away.

  "Nahtan--"

  "Please go," he said, turning and walking away from her again.

  Nahtan sat away from the camp, a small fire burning outside his tent. He'd moved out here after leaving Brijade earlier that day and had avoided everyone. He sat outside the tent now, a row of assorted items spread on the ground in front of him. A lock of Valry's hair. Kile's Dweller's flute. A pressed and dried bell-shaped blossom like the ones Valry liked to take to Jensina's altar that he'd kept between two stiff pieces of leather. A lock of Renato's mane. A small rolled piece of parchment paper with Valry's first letters scratched onto it in ink. Notaku's bead that Bear had sent with Tabari.

  He picked up the dried flower, tossing it into the fire. It wasn't a brazier in a temple, but he hoped it would do. He hadn't made offerings to the gods in a long time, not since he'd last taken Valry back at the Grand Cathedral.

  "Please forgive me, Jensina," he whispered. He watched as the flower was quickly consumed, the edges curling inward and stem twisting and shriveling.

  He picked up the lock of Valry's hair next, fingering it. He remembered the day they'd cut it. She'd gotten her hair tangled in a bush outside the stables and he'd had to cut it to free her. He tossed it into the fire, closing his eyes as the bitter smell drifted up as it burned.

  "I am sorry, Halona," he said.

  Next he picked up the scroll, opening it and tears coming to his eyes when he saw the awkward, roughly scratched letters. She'd tried so hard that day trying to make them perfect, to follow the sampler Meda had given her.

  Valry was safe, Lord Valin and Gaurel had made sure of that. He didn't know where she was, or at this point if he would see her again, and that thought stabbed him with an almost overwhelming loss. But he knew she was safe, and he knew Rial would get her home if something happened to him

  He couldn't help but smile. Of all of his friends and allies, it had been the young, cold Lord Valin who had been the one to save his daughter. All of the times he and Lord Valin had threatened each other, hurt each other, pulled weapons on each other, he had been the one to save Valry for him.

  He held the scroll over the fire, letting one edge catch on fire and holding it as it started to burn. Once it had burned a bit, he dropped it into the fire.

  "Forgive me, Zakris," he said.

  He picked up the other items, putting them back into his belt pouch one at a time. When he'd first learned about making offerings to the gods, Kile and Mo'ani had both told him that it should be something of importance rather than something of convenience. Of all the things he carried, those had been the most important to him.

  "Nahtan?" Yenene's voice was cautious as she approached. "I know you wanted to be alone, but Jensina said I should come. I can leave if you'd like, though."

  Nahtan paused. He was still holding Notaku's bead, just about to put it into his belt.

  "It's okay," he told her.

  Yenene came closer, pausing before sitting down next to him beside the fire. She pulled her long black hair in front of one shoulder.

  "Is everything all right?" she asked. "Jensina was quite insistent."

  Nahtan nodded. He held the bead out to her. "What can you tell me about this?"

  Yenene took it, then smiled when she recognized it. "One of Notaku's," she said. She shifted, turning towards him slightly. "When Mowik get married and start a family, they make a special set of beads that they record their life on," she explained. She held the bead toward the fire so Nahtan could see the details on it. "This bead tells me every important thing that happened in Notaku's life. It's yellow, which tells me she was born in the early spring." She turned it so he could see a single dark line painted around one end. "She married her first love, and while still fairly young." Next she pointed to two rows of tiny squares that followed the solid line around the bead. "She bore two sons, who were both alive at the time of her death, though she died before they were adults, because there's no mark on either one for what they grew up to be or if they ever married themselves." She pointed to a red line of paint that went around the center of the bead. "She followed Jensina." Yenene turned the bead around now to the other side and pointed out a crosshatch of finely painted lines. "She worked as a weaver in her village." She pointed to the last line, painted in red around the end of the bead. "And she was called to be a servant of Jensina." She handed the bead back to him, watching him for a long moment.

  "When we burn and bury our dead, their life beads are buried with them," she finally said. "That Sewati and his father and brother kept Notaku's tells me her death was a very heavy loss for them, Nahtan. Especially with Liwanu being on the Row of Elders, he would normally be expected to uphold all of our traditions without exception. I know Sewati offers the beads at services, so they are being returned as they should be, just slowly." She seemed to hesitate. "The fact that he sent one to you is very symbolic of the trust he was placing in you to find your way back again."

  "He tried so many times, Yenene," Nahtan shook his head. He rolled the bead around in his hand, looking at it. "He tried to show me where I was going wrong and how to find my way back, and I just betrayed him over and over again. I betrayed him as a Mo'ani. I betrayed him as his friend. I betrayed him with Brijade." He bowed his head as he put the bead into his belt and tied it closed. "And now I've lost my best friend on top of everything else."

  "No, you haven't," Yenene said. "The offerings we give the gods are supposed to represent the things we desire most purely within ourselves, or that are the heaviest weight for us to bear that we need help with. Sewati sending you one of his mother's beads is one more hope to save your bond with each other." She tilted her head, catching his eyes and reaching over to brush his hair away from them. "He's sharing his deepest burdens and hopes with you. It was all he had left to try to reach you. He chose to send that to you rather than offer it to the gods."

  "How can I even start to ask him to forgive me?"

  "I'm sure you'll find a way," she assured him. "Sewati does not discard friendships lightly, Nahtan."

  "I hope not," he told her. He paused, a thought occurring to him. "Has Jensina said anything about Tabari?" He figured it couldn't hurt to ask, she might have mentioned something that would tell him who he was.

/>   Yenene shook her head. "No, why?"

  "Neyl says he can see him marked as a chosen priest like you are, but he can't tell by what god."

  Yenene seemed concerned. "He doesn't seem like the priest sort," she noted. "I know he's about to drive Jedrik insane."

  "I'm pretty sure Jedrik was close to that when we met him," Nahtan noted.

  "That's a good point," Yenene agreed. "If I hear her mention anything, I'll let you know."

  "Thank you," Nahtan said.

  "You should let me check your chest while I'm here," she said. "It's been a couple of days since I looked at it and I know you've been changing the dressing yourself."

  Nahtan sighed and pulled off his tunic. The stitches pulled a little, but there hadn't been any sign of infection this time and the pain from it had been minimal, which was odd considering it was still a fairly deep wound. He'd been changing the dressing himself mostly because he wasn't sure what to say to Yenene most of the time now.

  Yenene moved closer and untied the bandage that was wrapped around his chest and over his shoulder to hold the dressing in place. She unwrapped it and pulled back the dressing, her expression obviously surprised.

  "It's healing really well," she said. "For as new of a wound as it is." She ran her fingers over the ridge of skin, feeling for any swelling that the light from the fire might not show her. Nahtan flinched slightly at her touch. "Are my fingers still cold?" she asked, looking up at him, concerned. Her fingers had been like ice against his skin when the Well had been open within him. He wasn't sure why, but it had made her touch almost painful even for just the slightest few seconds.

  "No," he said. "It's just a little tender right at the stitches."

  She nodded. "I had quite a bit of scar tissue I had to go through, so I'm not surprised," she said, sitting up. "How's the pain inside?"

  Nahtan shrugged and took the dressing to put back over it, then started to wrap the bandage back around his chest. Yenene took it from him and moved up onto her knees, wrapping it over his shoulder and around his chest then tying it in place again.

  "It only really hurts if I breathe too deep or it gets knocked into," he said. "Overall the pain isn't bad at all."

  "You can move your arm all right?"

  "Yes, Yenene," he assured her. "You don't need to fuss over me. Besides," he looked up at her. "Wouldn't you know if it still hurt that bad?"

  She sighed and nodded, standing up and brushing off her skirt. "Yes, I would," she said. "I apologize for 'fussing', but your mother worries."

  "I know she does," he nodded. "And I'm sure after what happened at Basiyr, she's going to worry all the more. But please tell Jensina she doesn't need to." He pulled his tunic back on, only needing to be careful with his left arm when he raised it fully over his head.

  "She's not likely to listen," Yenene pointed out. "But I'll try."

  "Thank you again," he said. "For telling me about the bead."

  "You're welcome," she replied. "Let me know if I can help anymore." She nodded to him and left to go back to camp. He looked back at the fire. They had a two day march to the temple, then hopefully he'd have Valry back and they could head to Herridon.

  **********

  Zakris stood, watching. His thoughts reached out, searching for his brother, but finding nothing. He knew Zared couldn't be dead, because he still existed himself. Yet he could find no trace of his brother's thoughts anywhere in the world.

  "Halona." He waited, knowing she could hear him. But even after several minutes, she didn't answer. "Halona." He repeated her name, his tone firmer this time. Still, she refused to answer. He could sense defiance in her thoughts, an unwillingness now to face him. "Jensina."

  "I'm here, Father." Her thoughts were still distant, her seclusion in the mortals' time removing her from their own time.

  "What has Halona done?"

  "She hasn't spoken to me," Jensina replied. "I haven't had words with her for some time. I felt something happen to Zared, though."

  "I cannot find him," Zakris told her. "Even his most minor thoughts are gone from the world. His touch is no longer within those who followed him."

  "Father--" He could hear the alarm in her thoughts. She knew the two of them were bound together, just as she and Halona were.

  "I remain unharmed and unchanged," Zakris assured her. "So he is neither dead, nor cast out. Only...gone."

  "Do you need me to come back?"

  Zakris considered asking her to. It was testament to her compassion that even for all of the pain and anguish Zared had caused her that she would offer to come for his sake.

  "No, stay with your son," he told her. "How do things fare there?"

  Jensina was quiet for a moment. "Something has changed within him," she replied. "That which tied him to his past is no longer there. His soul is now bound here."

  "What happened?" Zakris frowned at that news. Nahtan's soul changing and Zared disappearing at the same time could not be coincidence. Where he had been able to heal and bend Nahtan's soul to be born into this world, his mind had remained of his old world and was closed to them.

  "He unleashed that same power against Basiyr and Zared's priests as at Olorun," Jensina replied. "I still could not contain it and could only watch. Then it suddenly stopped and he collapsed. When I touched upon him, I found his soul bound to our world now."

  Zared considered this. Could Nahtan have directed that power onto Zared himself somehow and done something to the fallen god? But then why would Halona not be answering him?

  "If you speak to your sister, tell her I would have words with her as well," Zakris said.

  "I will," Jensina promised.

  Zakris pulled his thoughts back from hers, more troubled now than before.

  Thirteen - "He has his moments"

  Nahtan kept to himself for the most part as the armies set out the next morning. Ehren, Zara and Kenah all bantered with each other while Asher and Neyl discussed what would need to be done to rebuild Basiyr. Yenene still rode further back, keeping an eye on Calan and the other wounded. Brijade rode beside him, and Jedrik and Tabari rode a bit further back and off to the side, lost in deep conversation. Garren and Korrie were riding closer to the front than they had been, but he noticed they still kept their distance from him. They spoke quietly between themselves, and he noticed them passing something back and forth, but couldn't tell what it was. Gaurel rode just behind him, the falcon perched on his saddle horn. The giant bird shifted restlessly, wanting to fly, but staying put.

  Bear was the only one that was missing.

  "When we get closer, I want to try something," Nahtan said to Asher.

  "What's that?" Asher asked, turning his attention to him.

  "Somewhere back in my army is a former church guard named Mallin," he said. "I'd like to send him and Kiril ahead and see if they can't talk that army outside the temple into just dispersing." He briefly wished he had Janec here to send with them as well.

  Asher blinked at him in surprise. "Do ye think they can do it? I know Kiril can talk 'em down sometimes, but it's rare down here."

  "Mallin's got a knack for it," Nahtan shrugged. "He seems to have a good feel for which church guards are radical and which ones are just trying to survive and will leave if given the opportunity. But I'd like to try. We'll have the armies there to back them up, but if they can save some lives, it would be good."

  Asher nodded. "Aye," he nodded. "But there's not a whole lot of room for mercy with this lot. Most of them will spit on ye soon as talk to ye, and I'm bettin' Aduran had the most loyal sent to guard the temple."

  "Then we'll do what we have to," Nahtan shrugged. "But maybe we can save a few." He looked at Brijade when he saw her smiling at him. "What?"

  "Now that's the young Mo'ani we dragged into Herridon and threw onto the throne," she said.

  "There was no dragging," he argued, sighing. "You talked to Yenene?" He realized she must have, since Yenene was the only person he'd given any hints to of what had happe
ned during the battle.

  Brijade nodded. "Yenene and I have become quite good friends," she said.

  "That's really not what I needed to hear right now," Nahtan frowned.

  Brijade chuckled. "I'm allowed to have friends outside of you, Bear and Tamnor."

  "I didn't think Tamnor counted as an actual friend."

  "He has his moments."

  "I'm sure Calan would agree with that, but probably not the same way you mean it."

  "When I get back to Takis, I plan on beating the entire story of what happened between them out of him," Brijade promised. "I don't really know any of his children outside of some of their names, so I can't ask any of them."

  Nahtan paused. He knew Lord Devayne was an excellent swordsman. Seeing him and Brijade go at it might be worth the trip to Takis. Then he realized it might not be the best idea for her to do that.

  "Could I give you a royal order not to issue any challenges like that until after the baby is born?" he asked.

  "I won't be in Takis until after that anyway," she told him.

  "You won't?" he asked, surprised.

  She shook her head. "Both you and Bear will be in Herridon. I figured I'd have the baby there so you can both be available for me to yell at and try to kill. Then I'll get official acknowledgements from both of you for the genealogy records at Takis that you could be the father, get your official declaration stating the baby's an heir to the throne, then when Yenene says we're both good, I'll take the baby and go back to Takis."

  "I see she's given this a lot of thought," Asher said.

  "Neither one of them is getting out of it," Brijade promised, looking around Nahtan to Asher.

  "Start runnin' now, Ye're Majesty," Neyl said, chuckling.

  "She'd just find me," Nahtan said. "Then there would be dragging and probably a few broken bones involved."

  They made good time the first day, stopping to make camp as dusk was turning to night. Nahtan set his tent up near the edge of the camp again, still wanting to be alone with his thoughts. He didn't feel ready to face everyone, and the fact that everyone still seemed to be staying out of his way told him a lot about how he'd been acting.