All of the Tenders had seen Lendl, wandering around the estate like she didn’t know where she was, sitting alone crying for hours on end. She rarely responded when anyone spoke to her, seemed to be in another world completely.
“What if I end up like her?”
“You won’t,” Cara told her firmly. “The FirstMother and Ricarn are both here. They’ll make sure of it. You’re going to be fine.” She hoped she sounded more positive than she felt. She looked over her shoulder. Trailing them, just a shape in the dimness, was a figure walking by herself. It was Lendl.
They entered the estate and stopped in the carriage way.
“All Tenders with sulbits stand in a circle with me,” the FirstMother said. “The rest of you stand back.”
The FirstMother took her sulbit from her shoulder and cradled it in her arms. She stroked its head and whispered to it. Other Tenders were saying goodbye to their sulbits as well. A few shed tears.
After a minute, Ricarn said, “It’s time.”
“Meld with your sulbits,” the FirstMother said. “Go beyond. Once there we will follow Ricarn. She will lead us to the River.”
The Tenders closed their eyes. Ricarn turned and looked at Cara. “Come with us. You need to see this.”
Cara didn’t argue, but closed her eyes as well and stilled her thoughts. Using the technique Ricarn had taught her, she went beyond. The mists rose up around her and she pushed on through them, guided by the glowing forms of the other Tenders’ akirmas. The sulbits had no akirmas and appeared as dim, unhealthy-looking smudges. Ricarn’s akirma was very bright and clear.
She followed them as they went deeper still. The mists faded away. Feeder lines and then trunk lines appeared at intervals and then, finally, there was the vast glow of the River.
As they drew close the sulbits began to vibrate. They grew brighter. They leapt away from their Tenders and dove into the River. As each one struck there was a bright flash.
Cara’s last impression was of the creatures racing around and around, reveling in their return home.
Sixty-three
“It’s been weeks,” Cara said. “She should be back by now.” She and Owina were sitting on one of the stone benches on the estate grounds. It was the end of the day and the women had just returned from their labors in the city. All the Tenders spent their days helping the Qarathians rebuild their lives. The FirstMother didn’t exactly order them to do so—she’d been strangely subdued—but she rose early each morning, ate quickly and went to work. Any Tender who didn’t do the same got the uncomfortable feeling their FirstMother was distinctly displeased with them, though the only thing the FirstMother ever said about it was “We’ve lost our power, but we still have hands.”
“I went to the palace and spoke with Quyloc,” Cara continued. “He traveled to the edge of the desert, but he said there was no sign of her or Shorn.”
“Then they must still be on their way here.”
“I don’t know. What you’re saying sounds so reasonable, but something just doesn’t feel right. I can’t help being afraid.”
“I wouldn’t be,” Owina said. “From what you’ve told me, Netra has survived more things than either of us could imagine. I’m sure she survived this as well.”
“I want to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else yet.”
Owina gave her a quizzical look. “What is it?”
“I followed you that night when the sulbits were returned to the River and when we got there I had a strange feeling. It felt like Netra was there.”
“What do you mean by there?” Owina’s eyes widened. “You mean it felt like she was in the River?”
“I don’t know. Kind of.”
“You know that’s not possible.”
“I know. That’s what I keep telling myself. But I can’t shake that feeling.” She gave Owina a miserable look. “That’s part of why I’m so worried. What if she was in the River?”
The realization of what she was saying came to Owina then. “Oh. You think she might have gone into the River to undo the Gift.”
Cara nodded. Owina put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Neither could bring herself to speak the words. If Netra went into the River, she would never return.
There was a commotion at the front gates and both women turned to look.
“It’s Shorn!” Cara cried, jumping up. Then she sagged back. “Where’s Netra?” she cried, all her worst fears returning at once. “Netra’s not with him.”
She took off at a run for the gates. Shorn saw her coming and moved to meet her. Before he even spoke she started crying. She could tell instantly that he carried bad news.
“She is…gone,” he said. His normally stolid face twisted and real pain leaked out before he could once again get himself under control.
Cara started shaking. “What happened?”
“It was Reyna,” he told her.
Cara sagged against Owina, sobbing uncontrollably. Her best friend, gone forever. After a minute she realized Shorn was speaking to her and she struggled to control herself enough to listen to him.
“I would talk with you,” he said. “There is more you should know.”
Owina hugged her. “Go with him.”
Numbly, Cara followed Shorn away from the others. He sat down and she sat down as well. “Did she…did she suffer?” she asked him before he could speak.
He shook his head. “It happened fast.”
Cara wiped her eyes. “That is something I guess.”
“It is strange,” he said.
“What is?”
“I could not find her body.”
Cara stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“She was…gone. I could not find her.”
Cara felt hope glow inside her. “Do you mean she might have escaped somehow? Why did you leave? Maybe she’s still there somewhere!” In her excitement she got to her feet, as if to run to the Gur al Krin right then.
“No,” Shorn said. “There was nowhere she could have gone. And I looked. I waited.”
Cara sagged back down. “I don’t understand what you are saying.”
“She went to the River. But she left her body behind. While she was there, Reyna returned and…” He stomped on the ground once. Cara winced. “But when I looked in the hole, there was nothing.”
“So she could still be alive,” Cara breathed.
“Melekath said it could not be so. He said that she must have brought her body to the River in the instant before Reyna went for her, but there is no way it could have survived. Her consciousness may still survive in the River, but that is all.”
Cara put her hand over her mouth. So it was true. Netra went into the River. “Is that it?” she asked finally.
Shorn nodded. “I waited, but there was nothing. I came to tell you.”
Cara felt fresh tears start. “Thank you,” she said, “for telling me.” She lowered her head.
“Her last words were of you. She wanted you to know that she loved you.”
Cara began weeping again, shaking with the sobs. Cautiously, Shorn put one hand on her shoulder. Then he wrapped her in a hug while she cried.
Sixty-four
Early in the morning Rehobim and Pinlir called the Takare to gather around. The spirit-kin formed up in ranks behind the two men while the rest of the Takare stood in a loose group facing them. Shakre noticed right away that Pinlir was once again carrying his weapons, despite Youlin’s order from the day before. She looked at Youlin to see if she also noticed, but the young woman was hidden in the depths of her hood and it was impossible to tell.
“Today we enter the deep ways,” Rehobim said. “Where the ronhym live.”
Shakre realized right away that his voice sounded different. It sounded deeper, older. She and Elihu exchanged looks. She looked at Pinlir and saw that he was glaring at Elihu. Amongst the spirit-kin were a number who had come from Bent Tree Shelter, men and women she had known for years, but when she met their eyes
she saw no one she recognized there.
“It seems the old spirits are no longer hiding,” Elihu murmured.
“You are surprised by this,” Rehobim-Tarnin continued. “You know nothing of the ronhym, or the deep ways. There is much you do not know, much that has been hidden from you by those with their own purposes.”
His gaze landed on Elihu and Shakre felt a shiver go through her. Did he know about their meeting with Rekus?
“Today, that changes. Today, you learn the truth. I am Tarnin, your last, true leader, and this is Kirtet, my second. Since the tragedy at Wreckers Gate those you see standing up here before you have waited for our people to return to us. We have waited for the day when we could reclaim our homeland and claim our rightful place as rulers of Atria.”
Shocked silence met his words. Many looks were cast at the Pastwalkers among them, but none of them spoke up.
“The ronhym are our oldest allies,” Tarnin continued. “A race of creatures who live underground in a vast warren of tunnels and caverns that we call the deep ways. It was they who built Wreckers Gate for us. It is our plan to contact them, to seek their help in defeating Gulagh.”
“Why?” someone called out. “Why was all this hidden from us?”
“They sought to divide us,” Pinlir-Kirtet burst out suddenly, his face dark. “They spread lies so that they could seize power for themselves.” Tarnin gave him a look and he subsided, though he muttered to himself.
“It was during the last days of the Empire,” Tarnin said. “We faced a great threat from the Tenders and we sought help from the ronhym in dealing with it. While helping us, one of them was killed in an accident.”
Shakre felt Elihu move when Tarnin said this and she grabbed his arm fiercely, afraid that he would say something and Kirtet would kill him.
“The traitor Genjinn took the creature’s death as an opportunity to try to usurp my power. He spread lies that we tortured and killed our ally. Unfortunately, there were those among us who believed him and they joined him in his rebellion. They seized our homeland and closed Wreckers Gate against us. In the battle that followed, many of the rebels were killed. Afterwards, guilt over those deaths led most of our people to go into exile and renounce our ways.” He swept his arm, encompassing the ranks of spirit-kin who stood behind him. “Those you see here are the Takare who refused to leave. We swore to remain true to our brethren and remain behind to keep the flame pure. We vowed to reject the forgetfulness that comes with reincarnation so that when the time came, when our lost brethren finally returned, we could lead them back to the truth.”
Shakre looked around to see how the other Takare were taking this. Most seemed spellbound. A few looked skeptical, but the great majority looked like they were accepting his words as the truth.
“There will be more time to speak of this after we defeat Gulagh,” Tarnin said. “I bring this up now because the time has come to end the lies. Only the truth can reunite us and only if we are united can we defeat the enemies who stand against us.”
“What about those whose lives you’ve stolen?” a woman said. It was Birna. She stepped forward, her tearful eyes fixed on Kirtet. “After this is over, will you give my mate back to me?” Other voices, mostly the close kin of those who were possessed by the old spirits, also spoke up.
“I assure you they are alive and well, residing within us,” Tarnin said smoothly. “When our homeland is once again returned to us, we will leave those we inhabit and allow ourselves to once again be born to you.”
The rest mostly subsided then, but Birna remained standing out front of them, still staring at Kirtet. “If you can hear me, Pinlir,” she said, “know that I will not rest until you return to me.”
Tarnin and Kirtet exchanged looks, then Tarnin spoke again. “Only the spirit-kin will enter the deep ways. The rest will stay behind to protect our people. You will retrace our path and wait near the Gate for us to open it from within.”
“I am coming too,” Youlin said. After a moment Tarnin nodded.
Shakre stepped forward. “You may have need of a healer.”
She expected an argument or at least scorn, but to her surprise Tarnin nodded. “I have seen your healing skills. Only a fool leads warriors into battle without a healer. And we may again need your power over the wind.” Shakre’s face must have registered her shock because he smiled then. “I see that surprises you, but it should not. I do not harbor the ill will towards you that Rehobim does. Where he sees an enemy, I see one who will fight with all she has to help the Takare rise again.” He walked up to her and she was made forcefully aware of his raw power and strength. He could kill her before she could move. “Know this, though. I have also seen your weakness in your compassion for our enemies. I will not tolerate this. If you try to stand between us and our enemies, we will cut you down without a thought. Do you understand?”
Shakre, looking up at him, could only swallow hard and nod.
“When we meet the ronhym,” he added in a low voice that others could not hear, “do not interfere. One way or another, they will help us.”
Shakre nodded again, her mouth dry.
They set out a few minutes later, moving fast. They headed straight back into the mountains, going up the bottom of a steep, narrow canyon with a small stream rushing down it. Pine trees and aspens began to dominate the landscape, with carved pinnacles and rocky buttes overlooking from the tops of the ridges. The air grew colder.
After an hour, Tarnin led them up a side canyon which soon grew so narrow that Shakre could reach out and touch both sides at once. It grew steeper as well until the sides were sheer cliffs that soared higher and higher overhead. The bottom of the slot canyon was ankle deep in icy water. There were areas where floods had wedged dead logs in the canyon overhead, testament to how deep the water could get. In other areas boulders choked the bottom of the canyon so that they had to crawl underneath them or climb up over them. The sun disappeared completely and the sky was a narrow ribbon of blue high overhead.
It was all Shakre could do to match their pace and she eventually developed a stitch in her side that made breathing difficult. Without the help of one of the spirit-kin, a young woman who had probably been ordered by Tarnin to do so, she wouldn’t have been able to keep up. The woman stayed right behind her the whole way, helping her through the more difficult spots.
The narrow canyon grew very dark and filled with icy, chest-deep water. After wading through it for long minutes, Shakre began to shiver violently. She could see nothing beyond the person right in front of her. She began to wonder how much longer she could survive in there. Already she had lost feeling in her feet. Hypothermia could not be far away.
So focused was she on the cold that she didn’t realize the person in front of her was gone until she found herself staring at a tangled mass of boulders. She stared at them, her cold-fogged mind unable to grasp what had happened to the person she was following.
“Windrider, you must duck under the stone. See, there is room,” the woman behind her said.
Shakre saw then that there was a gap between stone and water about a foot high. She ducked down and went under the boulders. It was harder going now, since she could no longer stand upright completely and more than once she tripped over stones hidden in the water and plunged completely under water. She was still shivering, but she realized she no longer really felt cold and part of her mind told her this was a very bad thing, that she didn’t have much longer.
She had never liked enclosed places and she began to feel a little panicky. What if this were a dead end? It had been almost a thousand years since anyone passed this way. The stones might have collapsed into the canyon. The ronhym could have even done it deliberately. There was no way she could make it back the way she had come; she simply didn’t have the strength.
But at last the water grew shallower and the stone overhead rose so that she could stand upright. A few minutes later she emerged from the water completely. She stood there, shivering uncontro
llably, while Takare continued to file past her. The young woman took her arm.
“Remember what you have learned in your time among our people. The cold cannot take you if your mind is strong.”
Shaking, Shakre nodded. All Takare children on the Plateau learned a technique for mastering the cold that involved breath and mental control. She had learned it somewhat, though never as well as the Takare. Now she fought to bring her shivering under control.
In a couple of minutes, she had recovered somewhat. She was still freezing, but she did not think she was still in danger of dying. She and the young woman were the only ones left. The rest had gone on ahead. She looked up. The sky was gone. There was only stone. In the stone were veins of some kind of crystal that glowed with a faint blue light.
“Can you continue?” the young woman asked her. “We should not get too far behind.”
“I can manage,” she replied. “Thank you for staying with me.”
They walked down what appeared to be a natural tunnel that most of the time was only wide enough for them to walk single file. Shakre’s uneasiness began to grow stronger. Being underground, with stone pressing in from all sides, was difficult. She kept imagining that the passage was closing in on her, though her logical side told her it wasn’t true. She realized she was breathing harder than necessary too and she struggled to get her breath under control.
Finally, the tunnel opened up and Shakre stopped. What she saw made her forget her discomfort temporarily.
They were in a huge cavern. The thin veins of blue, glowing crystals turned huge here, crisscrossing the walls, floor and ceiling of the cavern. Huge piles of glowing crystals littered the ground. It was a fantastic sight and utterly beautiful. The light they gave off was so bright she could see clearly.
They had caught up to the rest and up ahead she could see Tarnin and Kirtet conferring with a half dozen of the spirit-kin. Youlin was standing nearby, though clearly she was not part of the conversation. The six spirit-kin were carrying spears that looked different to Shakre. As she drew closer she saw that the spears had no metal points. Instead, the points were carved from wood and were barbed near the tips.
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