And then a hand touched on his shoulder and he stood. Simra stared at him, her face partially shadows in the full dark of the evening. “Lakhoni.”
He looked down. The water came up to his knees. He stepped out. He patted his body as sensation returned. What had happened? Was he healed? “Simra?”
“Are you all right?” Simra looked him over. “You were hurt?”
Lakhoni bent. His knee felt tight, but not painful. Both of his shoulders and sides were the same. It was as if there was a memory of pain in his bone and muscle, and the possibility that it might return if he weren’t careful. But he felt strong. “I was.” He straightened and movement to his left caught his eye. Hilana pulling Lamorun out of the water.
Simra’s hand slid up his cheek, pulling his attention back to her. He drank in her face. The exotic shape of her eyes. Her straight, strong nose. The upsweep of her cheeks and the slight down curve of her lips. She pulled him close and they kissed. Warmth swept through Lakhoni. The pains and fears and loss dimmed for a few long seconds as he let her kiss swallow him up.
Too soon, they parted. Simra’s brows raised. “Gadnar?”
“It’s finished.” Lakhoni looked around and found his dagger. He slid it into its sheath. “The people?”
Simra sighed and shook her head. “Were incredibly stupid.”
Hilana joined in, Lamorun right behind her. He handed Hilana his katte and slid the snake sword into the straps on his back. “We got to the village and told them what was coming.” Hilana examined Lamorun’s katte and frowned. She pulled hers from its straps and turned them both over, as if weighing them. “Lombizo argued against escaping. Because he was a fool.”
“Was?” Lamorun swung his cudgel in a circle, then planted it on the ground.
“When the first big rumble came, they felt and heard it.” Simra took Lakhoni’s hand and squeezed. “That convinced them. Except for Lombizo.”
“Are you saying he stayed behind?” Lakhoni gave Simra’s hand a squeeze and followed as she led him back through the valley.
“He did. He was yelling curses at the people as we got them out of their little village and up onto a ridge a ways off.” Simra led the group to the river, then up its embankment toward where it fell down the mountain.
“He might have still been yelling when the river smashed through his village,” Hilana said.
“Live as a fool, die as a fool.” Lamorun spat. “Speaking of fools, I forgot to ask you, Lakhoni.”
“What?” Lakhoni peered through the darkness toward the tall shape of his brother.
“Did you drink of the water?” Lamorun and Hilana walked close together.
Lakhoni thought back as Simra’s head snapped around. “No.”
Simra cocked her head at Lakhoni. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. “Yes. I would know if I had.”
“If you did, we’re going back and I’m getting some.” Simra stopped Lakhoni and fixed him with a determined gaze. “You have to be certain.”
Lakhoni cast his thoughts back. No memory of swallowing at any time. He gave Simra a smile. “I’m certain.”
She pursed her lips and opened them as if to say more.
“What?” Lakhoni gently squeezed her hand, still in his. Where it would always be.
“Do—” Simra bit off the words. She tried again. “Do you want to?”
He looked into her eyes. “No.”
Tension bled from her shoulders and neck. “Good.” She turned and pulled him along.
Simra led them to the edge of the valley to where the river rushed fast and noisily to fall down the mountain. The cavern was gone. “She did it.” Simra squeezed Lakhoni’s hand.
“She did.” Lakhoni stared at the water. He tried to imagine some way that Alronna could have escaped the cavern, run fast enough to not be swept into the torrent. He forced the painful thoughts away. She was gone.
“Sister,” Lamorun said. “Ancestors carry you to peace.”
“To peace,” Lakhoni echoed.
They stood that way long into the night as the rain fell.
“With these bonds, and the promises that bind you to each other and the Great Creator, I invoke upon you joy and rejoicing.” Elondo sprinkled ash and ground up seeds over Lakhoni and Simra’s clasped hands. He brushed one finger on Simra’s forehead, and the same on Lakhoni’s leaving a trail of ash behind. “From fire comes life. Bring life into this world and become part of the eternal cycle.”
Lakhoni drank in the sight of Simra. She knelt across the small pile of rough stones from him, both of their hands clasped atop a mat with colorful flowers and beads woven into it. Her long, ebony hair was arranged with so many ribbons he couldn’t count them, but they made a lock of hair hang loose just down the side of her face. And when she looked at him with that half smile, her eyes heavy-lidded, his heart skipped. The golden motes in her brown eyes glimmered in the red light from the wedding fire in the middle of her village.
“Now, pronounce your hearts.” Elondo lifted his hands high, then lowered one to Lakhoni’s head. “Lakhoni.”
“Simra.” He swallowed and centered, his heart hammering. “You healed me without knowing me. Now you know me and you love me still. You make the sun brighter. The day better. You make me want to be the best man I could ever be. I love you. I will do all I can to love you better each day.”
Her half-smile stretched her lips and her perfect eyes seemed to glow. She leaned quickly across the stones and kissed him.
“This is most improper!” Elondo sputtered.
Simra pulled away, smiling. She glanced up at Elondo. “My turn?”
Elondo scowled and gave a noisy harrumph. He rolled his eyes and lowered his hand to Simra’s head. “Simra.”
“Lakhoni.” She pursed her lips.
A tremble passed through Lakhoni. He stared into her eyes.
“Beautiful boy.” Simra glanced down at their clasped hands. Ribbons tied their hands together in a complex knot. She looked up again. “You came to me and couldn’t speak. But you surprised me. I lost you, buried you on a mountain, then found you. You have changed my heart. I love you to the end of the world. We are impossible. Which is perfect for me.”
Lakhoni grinned and leaned over the rocks for a quick, sweet, soft kiss.
“Most improper!” Elondo huffed again.
“Get on with it, old man!” Lamorun stood behind Lakhoni. He bumped a knee into Lakhoni’s back. “Let’s get them wedded.”
“Hush, club leg.” Hilana stood behind Simra, hands on her hips.
Lamorun grunted and muttered, “Crazy woman.” But he kept his peace.
Elondo looked around at his gathered villagers. “Anymore outbursts?” He waited, his nearly bald head crinkling as his brows climbed up into his forehead. “If not, then we will proceed.”
Lakhoni squeezed Simra’s hands. She squeezed back.
“Then as the elder of this village, I bless this union.” He scattered more ash mixed with ground seeds. The aroma was light and almost floral. “In the sight of the Great Spirit and this world, you are one.” His lips stretched into a mostly toothless smile. “Now kiss and seal it!”
Lakhoni stood as Simra pushed to her feet. They pulled each other close with their bound hands and he fell into her lips, soft and warm and sweet. The villagers melted away, along with their cheers and shouts. She smelled like a wild river and forest flowers. Her lips parted and all of his senses lit on fire.
Slowly, the cheers and hoots reappeared and they parted.
Lamorun wrapped his tree branch arms around Lakhoni and squeezed until Lakhoni almost couldn’t breathe. “Well done, brother.”
Well done. Lamorun had said the same thing two months ago on the ridge as the rain fell on Gadnar’s lifeless body. Lakhoni shoved the thought away and laughed. “You’re next!”
Lamorun fell away, roaring with laughter.
Neas, Simra’s father, led the couple to a beautifully carved bench with woven mats covering it. As th
ey sat, their hands still bound together, Hilana approached with a shiny clay bowl. “A Zhimana tradition.” She held the bowl out. “Hold it together and help each other drink. If you spill even a single drop, your union will be cursed.”
Lakhoni balked. “Nope. That’s stupid.”
Simra tugged at his hands. “You don’t think we can do it?” She grinned.
“I’m sure we can,” Lakhoni said. “But that’s ridiculous. Our union will be what we make of it.”
Simra dropped her chin low and gave Lakhoni a look that made his heart shiver. “Beautiful boy. You are good with words.”
“Take it,” Hilana said. “The tradition doesn’t matter. Help each other drink.”
Lakhoni lifted his hands, Simra matching his movement. They took the bowl and Simra drank first. She murmured in pleasure and took another sip. Then Lakhoni drank. It was sweet and sharp. He caught Hilana’s gaze as they handed the drained bowl back. “What is that?”
“Juice of the panote berry.” She raised an eyebrow. “For energy.”
Simra kicked at her and Hilana spun away, laughing.
Lakhoni’s face grew hot. He was a married man. Blushing was for children.
A married man. He looked back to Simra. She was smiling at him again.
Music began, with drums of hide and log accompanied by a multi-tubed flute. Lamorun urged the players to pick up the pace and then turned to Lakhoni and Simra. “Now dance until the ribbons come free!”
Simra pulled Lakhoni to his feet and they danced. They danced around the fire, joined by other couples from the village. Corzon and Melana wheeled by, laughing and leaping. Falon and Jasnia danced into view, their hands clasped and faces flushed.
“The dog boy and the Separated,” Lakhoni said, his voice pitched softly.
Simra nodded as they spun around to the fast rhythm of the drums. “They look happy.”
The music and dancing continued until dark fell, although Lakhoni and Simra’s ribbons had long since come off. As the stars winked alive in the deep black sky, Elondo and Neas told stories. The wedding party lasted a full five days, as was tradition in Simra’s village. Lakhoni struggled to keep up with all the food and drink, but knew the celebration was for much more than his wedding to Simra. This was a celebration of life. A memorial for those lost. Including Alronna.
A crisp fall morning dawned and Lakhoni and Lamorun crouched by the village fire pit, two separate piles of tinder and firewood nearby. They hunched over their piles, furiously scraping steel against flint. Sparks flew.
“I have smoke!” Lakhoni bent and blew gently on his pile of tinder.
“I have flame.” Lamorun casually placed a small branch over his blazing pile of tinder. “You are slow, brother.”
“Maybe with fire,” Lakhoni said. “But you are slow with love.”
Lamorun roared with laughter, rocking back on his haunches.
As they built their fires and joined them, Lamorun sat back in his crouch, arms resting on his knees. “When are we leaving?”
Lakhoni chuckled. “Of course you know. You’ve always been able to read me.”
“Also, even though these four months have been pleasant, this is not our home.” Lamorun fed a long branch into the fire.
Lakhoni turned the cooking bar so it hung over fire, its suspended pan close to the coals. “No. It’s not.” He thought of the conversations he and Simra had in the late nights. “We want to go north. Far north.”
“There are stories of lands of plenty. Lakes and rivers bigger than you can imagine.” Lamorun tossed a grin over his shoulder as Hilana emerged from the hut she shared with Lina, Vena, and Prila. “That far north?”
Lakhoni nodded. “Yes. Away from bloody legends and history. A new home.”
Hilana dropped into a crouch next to Lamorun. “North then?”
Lamorun nodded. “Sounds like an adventure to me.”
Simra stepped out of the hut she and Lakhoni shared. The healer’s hut. Where they had first met almost two years before. Her hair fell in loose cascades all around her face and down her back. She worked it with a bone comb as she sat next to Lakhoni. “Did you tell them?”
“I think they already knew.” He kissed her cheek and leaned closer to her, offering his warmth. “They’re in.”
“Of course they are.” Simra’s lips stretched in a smile. “We’re a growing family. We stay together.”
Lakhoni nodded and let his eyes roam the village. Between the former Separated, and the people they’d brought out from Zyronilxa, they probably had almost twenty people. It would be a long journey and would require planning and preparation. “We can leave after the winter.”
“Yes,” Simra said. “That will give us time to prepare. We’ll need plenty of supplies.”
“I think we should go to Zyronilxa first. Maybe before winter.” Lakhoni glanced to the south, where Zyronilxa lay several weeks’ journey. “It would be good to see Ree.”
“We could leave this week.” Simra pushed herself to her feet and sat on a nearby chair with a sigh. She relaxed back and set her hands on her belly. “I wouldn’t mind going before the journey gets harder for me.”
Something in her tone, the way she was looking at him, caught Lakhoni’s attention. He stood fast. “Simra?”
She smiled at him in that way that made it hard to think. “Yes?”
“Simra.” Lakhoni crossed to her and caught her eyes. His heart thumped. He stammered, the words getting stuck.
“Lakhoni.”
“You’re—are you…” He knelt in front of her. He laid his hands on hers, gently atop her stomach. “Are you?”
She grinned. “I am.”
It was as if black powder had exploded behind his eyes. Everything went white. His head compressed. He couldn’t breathe. He rose quickly and kissed her, then knelt again before her. He scrubbed tears off his cheeks. “When?”
“I don’t know. Maybe two months ago.” Her hand caressed his cheek. “The baby will be born in early spring.”
Lamorun and Hilana appeared at Simra’s sides, grinning and laughing. Lakhoni squeezed Simra’s hands, drawing her attention back.
“What should we name him—I mean, if it’s a boy?” Trembles coursed through Lakhoni. Mother and Father must be smiling on them from wherever they were.
“If it’s a boy,” Simra said, “Maybe Cho. Or Zeozer.”
Lakhoni caught his breath, nodding. Tears fell freely down his cheeks. He ignored them.
“And if it’s a girl.” Simra leaned forward, wiping the tears from his face. “We’ll call her Alronna.”
Light. No source, just light. An ocean of it. A world of it. It didn’t end, didn’t dim. It filled every crack, every seam, every moment.
Alronna.
The voice came from the light. She felt it on her skin, in her ears.
Faithful sword. Abide.
The voice was not loud, but she heard it easily. It sounded kind. Not soft though. Mild. The voice was mild. Like a sunset after a thunderstorm. Or rain after a fire.
She looked around and all she saw was light. All she knew was light.
She looked down. The source of the light was below her. A tree. But not a tree. A living thing, but not growing. Holding. Binding.
Sealing.
Well done, faithful sword.
She stretched and was filled with light. She couldn’t see or feel her hands or feet. This felt right. But she knew that in her hand was a sword of flame.
Alronna. I name you.
She had a name. It was a good name. But this was right too. A different, new name.
Guardian. Faithful guardian.
Yes. This was good. This was right.
Abide, faithful guardian.
The tree. The sealing tree. She would be its faithful guardian. Here in the place of light and peace without beginning or end.
She opened herself and fell into the light and the light fell into her and all was light.
SO BEGINS THE GUARDIAN ASCENSION
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Blagro: A city block in Zyronilxa, consisting of a large circle with hundreds of multi-level houses.
Bonaha: Title of the religious leader of the Separated, meaning ‘blood leader.’
Chamshazen: A term describing any descendent of the first parents who dishonored their mother and father, breaking the fifth of the sacred laws. The Zhimana refer to any descendent of the elder two First Fathers as a Chamshazen, mostly as an insult. They believe that these descendants have dishonorable blood.
Desa: Captain in the Old Language
Ehtzen: A large tribe of tree-worshippers and dwellers who crossed paths with and hate the Zhimana. The Zhimana cut trees and use them, which is a cruel sacrilege to the Ehtzen.
Flovil: The poor areas of the city.
Fruits:
Wampi: big tangy fruit where you can eat the whole thing, including the small seeds in the middle.
Panote: Like a cross between a guaraná berry and an açaí berry. Small, red, packs an energetic punch.
Halkeen: A devoted warrior-follower of the Bonaha. Upon their elevation to halkeen status, they dye their skin red and paint painful tattoos all over their bodies.
Hapcha: A tree and ground-living forest rodent, but not vermin. The size of a beaver, with long ears similar to a rabbit’s but without the muscle control. They have thin, curving tusks and the front is like a squirrel, but the body widens in the back so they’re low to the ground and have a wide, strong tail like an otter’s. There are many species and all are popular for their tender meat that cures well.
-ilxa: A suffix attached to a name for many cities amongst the Zyronites—Lakhoni’s people. It is from the Old Language and means ‘city of.’ A city named after me would be Jaredilxa. You’d live there, wouldn’t you?
Minga: Wolf in the Old Language. Not a spoiler in the next series. I promise.
Kondiwa (Diwa): Kondiwa means “Dear One” in the Old Language. ‘Diwa’ is the shortened, more familiar term that means the same thing. It’s like calling someone ‘honey’ or ‘my love.’
Red Prince Page 31
