by Lizzy Ford
“It is. He’s asked Leyon to step into Ne’Rin’s role.”
“Mansr, what about Gage?” she asked more quietly.
“A’Ran told me,” he said grimly. “He’s taken on the responsibility of raising her child, if she chooses not to mate with another.”
“She’ll be heartbroken.”
“Likely, but Ne’Rin would have killed you all without a second thought, as his father did the rest of their family. At least she and her babe will live.”
“There’s no saving Ne’Rin from whatever his issue is?” she asked, upset.
“A’Ran’s already acted.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Ne’Rin is no longer a threat.”
She shivered. She didn’t doubt A’Ran could be ruthless if he felt his family was threatened. She didn’t like to think of how violent the man in control of a world always at war could be. She glanced down absently at the tickle of grass against her feet.
“Can I do anything more useful than this?” she asked.
“It will come,” he said. “I know you are tired, but there is a place I’d like to show you.”
She hesitated, ashamed to feel a sense of suspicion after Ne’Rin’s betrayal. She looked at Mansr, whose sharp gaze took in her features.
“It can wait,” he offered.
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “Just a little …” She didn’t finished but sensed he understood.
He rose and started toward the entrance. She trailed, stepping into the chilled desert night. Mansr strode down one of the many paths lining the rocky hills, away from the encampment and into a part of the hills untouched by any but the moons’ light. Kiera went, resisting the urge to call A’Ran. She had nothing to fear from these people, especially not Mansr, a blood relative of A’Ran and his sisters.
He walked farther than she preferred before disappearing into a dark crevice. She waited at the top of the sloping walkway until she saw the outline of a door as he cracked it open. The outline turned to a bright square of light, and she followed him again.
Two warriors stood hidden in the dark on either side of the doorway. She jumped when one moved, her heart flipping. The warrior opened the door wider and motioned her in. She entered a narrow, well-lit hall and followed it through smoothly hewn walls. Several more warriors stood at intersections like gargoyles, moving only to point in the direction she needed to go.
She caught up to Mansr at long last. He stood outside a closed door down a short hallway lined with warriors. Her heart quickened as she paced through the silent warriors and joined him. He motioned to a glowing access pad.
“I cannot enter. Only the dhjan and dhjan nishani.”
She hesitated again, not sure she was ready for another trial.
“Inside is one of three temples on Anshan where the heart of the planet and its people is. While I’ve never seen what lies within, legend says it’s the key to the planet’s survival.”
She wanted to tell him she wasn’t ready for this, that she hadn’t even decided to stay yet. Her words died on her lips as she took in the deep worry lines and gaunt features of the man before her. After all he’d been through fighting for his home, how could she refuse?
With a nod, she prepared herself for the worst. He stepped aside and she waved her band in front of the access door. She couldn’t help but feel surprised when it opened. Inside was another small chamber. She looked at Mansr, who nodded in encouragement, then stepped into the chamber.
The thick stone door behind her slid closed, and there was a pause before another door opened in front of her. She expected another similar chamber with a low ceiling and plain walls and was stunned at the massive cave before her.
The walls were covered with colorful pictographs of couples and Anshan’s geometric writing, telling her a story she couldn’t read. The tiled floor depicted Anshan and its moons, with the planet at the chamber’s center. Two thrones of stone sat opposite her, awaiting their masters. In the center of the chamber was a small fountain whose waters had long gone dry. She walked into the chamber, awed by the drawings and writings on the walls. They were in different hands from different times, the top of the chamber rimmed with drawings of couples holding hands and standing on a ball she took to be Anshan.
She didn’t understand the significance of the pictures or writing and frowned, wondering how such a simple place was considered sacred. She crossed the stone tiles to the center of the chamber and circled the plain fountain. More pictographs were carved in the rim, and she circled the fountain twice before finding what she thought was the beginning, marked by pictures larger than the rest.
She trailed her fingers over the first image chiseled into the stone: that of a man. The next depicted the planet, the next a woman holding a knife, then the fountain, a plant, a river. She struggled to understand what the images were trying to tell her. She reached the beginning again and looked around the chamber, perplexed.
The thrones caught her attention, and she crossed to them. One bore the same image of a man, the second of the woman. In the middle of the queen’s throne was a low stone box she mistook at first glance to be the world’s most uncomfortable lumbar support. When she saw the king’s throne had no such stone structure, she returned to the woman’s and touched the box.
It clicked, and she jerked back. The top opened of its own volition, revealing an aged stone dagger with dulled edges and a chipped stone hilt. She withdrew it and hefted it. It was as heavy as it looked, as long as her forearm. She held it with two hands and retreated to the fountain, unable to shake the instinct that said the dagger on the fountain was the same.
She set the knife down on the edge and circled the fountain again until she’d reviewed all three of the pictographs where the female figure held a dagger. She almost slapped herself when she realized how simple it was.
The fountain contained instructions for making it work.
“Dhjan, dhjan nishani, dagger. Nishani’s blood.” She looked at the stone dagger and then at the fountain uneasily. There was no way she could fill it with blood!
She looked at the instructions again and saw the queen depicted with one drop of what she assumed was blood.
Kiera stepped back and spun around, feeling overwhelmed. She felt like panicking and running to her room and never leaving! Instead, she drew a deep breath and approached the fountain. Her hands shook as she gripped the heavy stone dagger, and she leaned against the fountain. With another deep breath, she ran her thumb down the jagged edge of the dagger. Stinging made her curse, and she grimaced as she held her thumb over the fountain. She watched the crimson drop form, stretch, then fall into the fountain.
She leaned over the edge to see the stone tile at the bottom of the fountain absorb her blood. She sucked her thumb and stepped back, waiting for something to happen. According to the pictures, there would be plants. Yet there was no earth or place for them to grow around her.
A long, silent moment passed. She began to think she’d misunderstood the pictures when a green sprout appeared at the center of the fountain. It grew to her height as she watched and then bloomed into an orange-pink flower the size of her head, shriveled and died, and returned. A second flower blossomed and remained.
Kiera waited. When nothing else happened, she retrieved the dagger and replaced it. She looked again at the flower, puzzled.
Suddenly, the ground jolted and shook, throwing her onto her stomach. Rumbling alarmed her as the stone lurched and moved beneath her. The sound of a roaring ocean filled the chamber. The flower moved as if caught in a breeze, not an earthquake.
The pictographs said nothing of an earthquake! Kiera climbed to her feet, barely caught herself from hitting the fountain with the next great tremor of the ground, and bolted for the door. She smashed into it as another quake rumbled beneath her, then rose and waved her band before the door. It opened, and she flung herself against the second door. It opened only when the other had closed, and she toppled into Mansr’s a
rms.
“We must go!” he said, steadying himself against the wall. The warriors grabbed her and passed her up the hall before he took one arm and another warrior her other.
They raced through the quaking halls toward the entrance, all while the strange roar of an ocean grew louder. Mansr took her a different route than the one she’d used to enter, one that sloped down and then up. Within moments, they burst into the chilly desert night.
Mansr tripped, taking all three of them down. Kiera grunted as she hit the ground, and he wrapped an arm around her.
“Oh, god, Mansr! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “I did it wrong!”
To her surprise, he barked a laugh of half-pain from their fall and half-triumph. She sprawled on top of him, unable to push herself up with the earth’s violent shaking. More warriors tumbled out after them until the last closed the stone door.
Two hauled her up and one helped Mansr. She bounced between them, unable to catch her balance.
“Come!” Mansr ordered, waving them toward another small trail up a hill.
The warriors gave her no choice but pulled her up the hill. She didn’t understand why until they reached the top, overlooking a deep canyon. Water shot from the bottom of the canyon, forming hundreds of tall columns whose mist cast rainbows in the bright moonlight. Mansr dropped to his knees as the earth continued to tremble. She pulled away from the warriors and dropped beside him, more comfortable on the ground than trying to navigate the shaking earth on her feet.
Mansr’s shoulders shook, and she took his arm, alarmed.
“Mansr, what’s wrong?”
He was laughing again. She stared at him, then at the water. A burst of wind sent water from the closest column raining over them. Grass tickled her knees, and she shifted, agitated by water and grass.
“Mansr!” she demanded. “What have I done?”
“Water!” he replied, throwing his arm toward the canyon. “We had none before!”
She frowned. As suddenly as it started, the earth stopped shaking. The warriors regained themselves first and crossed to the edge of the canyon, unaffected by the water spraying on them. They were silent, staring.
Mansr regained himself and rose. She watched as he too crossed to the edge of the canyon before she rose. Her knees hurt from her landing. The distant roar of water pouring into the canyon caught her attention.
“Mansr, I don’t understand,” she said at last.
“Anshan has had no water since the last dhjan nishani,” he said. “The plants died, the lakes dried up. We had nothing.”
Her gaze went to the columns with newfound interest.
“You mean, I didn’t do something wrong?” she asked.
“No, nishani, you saved us. As long as you are here, there will be life on Anshan.”
As long as you are here.
The words made him smile but weighed on her. She looked at each of the warriors, who watched the water as if they’d never seen it before. She’d wondered why A’Ran’s water supplies were located on the nearest moon, a logistical obstacle. The thought that they had no water on the planet itself had never occurred to her.
She did this. She didn’t know how, but she did it. The men around her were happy despite their stony visages. She didn’t know what to feel, except she wanted to cry.
“Mansr, I’m tired,” she whispered. “Can we go back now?”
He looked at her, his smile fading. “Of course. You must be exhausted.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything else. Her throat was tight, and she didn’t think her legs would carry her. They did. Mansr led her back to the small dwelling she shared with him and his son. The encampment was a flurry of activity, and she wondered how much was normal and how much was related to the water.
She said nothing to him but returned to her small room and closed the door. Kiera lay down in the dark and stared at the ceiling. Despite feeling tired, she couldn’t sleep.
“Nishani.” His voice made her jump, and she looked around wildly before she realized A’Ran’s voice came from the communicator. She rose grudgingly and crossed to the communications viewer. Unwilling to face him, she turned on the audio portion.
“I’m here,” she said, and cleared her throat. She knew he heard the restrained emotion by his pause.
“Are you well?”
“Just tired.”
“I’m transmitting a message to Mansr. Our enemy figured out you’re alive and on the planet. My reinforcements aren’t here yet; you’ll need to keep moving until I can neutralize the newest threat.”
“No problem.”
“What disturbs you?” His voice was softer.
“Just tired,” she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes.
“It is not like you to keep the truth from me.”
“I, uh, I went to the fountain and figured out how to make it work. There’s water now, A’Ran,” she managed, struggling not to cry. “Mansr says there will be water as long as I’m on Anshan.”
“Water,” he said, an odd note in his voice. “He speaks the truth. As long as you are nishani, the planet will heal.”
“And if I leave, everyone dies.”
“It is the way of things, nishani.” His voice was even, as if he tried to ease some of the weight of her decision.
“I couldn’t live with myself if I left everyone to die,” she said.
“We share the same burden,” he said in a hushed voice. “My failure to protect my people should not be something another should bear.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I will accept your decision, no matter which choice you make,” he said.
“I don’t know how you can say that,” she returned, “when one means your people will be destroyed!”
“You must accept your place willingly. It is the natural way of things here.”
“So you’re obligated to give me the choice.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes, remembering how she’d felt in his arms: like she wasn’t just another duty to him.
“I couldn’t walk away from your planet any more than I could my own, if me staying means everyone lives,” she whispered. “I must stay and do my … duty.” She waited, expecting her words to please him.
“Very well.” His tone didn’t change, as if she’d just told him she was going shopping instead of sacrificing the rest of her life for his people. “Prepare yourself to move before the suns rise.”
She turned off the communicator, not caring if he said anything else. Instead, she cried, feeling more alone than she had since leaving earth. She fell into a restless sleep that was disturbed long before dawn. Leyon’s shake rattled her to her bones, and she pushed at him. He shone a light in her face before hauling her to her feet. She stumbled after him into the central area of the dwelling.
“We must go,” Mansr said, tossing a small pack to her. “The Qatwali have landed their army nearby. We can’t evacuate you, but we can hide in the hills.”
She went to the window at his words. The attackers were down the road. Startled, she froze, watching the giant warriors fight until Leyon wrenched her forward. Their pace out of the dwelling and toward the hills was brutal, too fast for her to keep up, and Leyon ended up swinging her into his arms like a child to keep the fast pace into the rocky hills. The moons hung well above the horizon, and the desert air was chilly enough for her to see her breath.
Mansr led the column of warriors into the hills, not stopping until they reached the canyon she’d last seen several hours before. To her surprise, moonlight glinted off the water of the newly formed lake that filled the canyon. Leyon set her down after they passed it. They were forced to slow their pace when the trail became covered with slippery shale and the path grew steeper. They stopped in the shadow of a hill, and Mansr barked quiet orders at the dozen warriors with them. She replaced her translator as he approached.
“Listen carefully,” he said, gripping her arms. “Is your translator working?”
“We’re being followed. You will follow this path that leads around the hill back toward the encampment. You remember the chamber where you were earlier?”
She nodded again.
“Hide there. No one will enter. They’re tracking us, and I don’t know how. We’re going to scatter to see who’s followed, and if it’s you, we’ll kill anyone who follows your path.”
“You’re sending me alone?” she asked, surprised.
“I must know who among us has a tracking beacon. Leyon will be near you at all times. You’ll be in no danger.”
She was about to object when he released her to signal one of his other men forward.
“Around the hill,” Leyon repeated. “Stick to the path. You’ll see the trail to the cave.”
He gave her a small push toward the path, and she looked down, squinting in the moonlight to see the darkened trail. The men around her moved silently into every direction, and Mansr lifted his chin in a silent command for her to go. Leyon drew his sword and waited, giving her a head start.
Heart pounding, she trotted down the sloping trail, glancing nervously at the hill to make sure she didn’t suddenly fall off her path. The night was quiet aside from her foot falls and the sliding shale. The hill was wide and her blood thrummed as she moved as fast as she could.
Suddenly, a dark form launched itself from behind a group of boulders onto her path. She gasped and halted, staring at the sword and the giant holding it. She took a few steps back and then whirled to run. He snatched her, jerking her back. His sword flew over her head and his grip fell away too fast for her to catch her balance. She fell hard on her backside and saw her attacker’s headless body land beside her.
“Go. There are more!” Leyon ordered, pulling her up.
She stumbled in the direction he pushed her, horrified. This time, she paid no attention to the shale or placing her feet right. Instead, she ran as fast as she could on the trail. She reached a point that seemed familiar and looked for the dark shadow of the crevice. It was in the near distance, no more than two hundred meters away, down the hill through a boulder-strewn route. She broke from the trail and darted toward it, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
