Post by Solana on Jul 12, 2014 9:05:02 GMT -5
Chapter Ten- Under The Wings Of The Hawk
I don't work for you, you don't work for me. We're a team, get it? As in "I will kick your sorry ass if you don't listen to me" team.
Agent Fuller, Miss Congeniality 2
A pure, sweet voice rose in a greeting song to the dawn among the dark crimson and brown rocks of the Great Simbel mountain range of southern Merna. It belonged to a young woman in her late teens who was tending one of her tribe's flocks of sheep. Her gold hair sparkled in the sun, and a slight breeze teased the feathers tied into it and ruffled the fringed leathers and brightly-printed wool she wore for warmth. She used her fighting staff as a walking stick up the rocky ground, following the sheep that were searching for a meal of grass.
"What do you think, little ones? Is it time for us to be moving on soon?" she asked after her song's completion. Most of the sheep ignored her, intent on a juicy patch of greenery just ahead.
Up ahead, a few of her woolly charges began bleating in shock. The woman took a better grip on her staff and sprinted towards the alarmed sheep. Her other hand went to the small pouch on her belt that held a bone whistle used to give alarm calls to the rest of her tribe. Grass or no, she never took her flock out of earshot of a whistle blast when tending them alone. The mountains gave refuge to far too many bandits.
She soon reached the small group of sheep clustered around two unconscious women sprawled out on the ground. One had red-streaked black hair and a strange sword strapped to her back and a morningstar at her hip. She was shaking with cold, and her skin seemed to be taking on a very slight bluish tinge. The other woman was silver-haired and had a high quality bow slung on her back. Her breathing was strained and punctuated with little gasps.
The young woman first checked the archer's air passages to ensure that she would keep breathing, then took the warm woolen cloak from her back and spread it over the swordswoman as a makeshift blanket. After doing a quick recon of the area to check that there were no enemies lying in wait, she pulled out her whistle to signal her tribe. The combination of blasts told them that there was no danger here, but that she needed a healer and some guards with travois.
After hearing an affirmative response call, she kept her staff in hand and took a guard position over her two new charges. The sheep stayed nearby, and their senses for danger were welcome. As nomads, her people made it a point to help any other traveler in need.
Taking another look at the pair, seeing the fine purple and black velvets the archer wore compared to the travel-worn leathers and cotton of the swordswoman, she wondered if the latter was perhaps a servant or bodyguard of some kind. But that would have to wait until they had been tended.
The excited barking of dogs signaled the arrival of those she had summoned. There was the healer she had asked for, two of the tribe's warriors for guards, and four sturdy dogs equipped with two travois for transporting. The dogs came up to lick the young woman, wagging their tails excitedly and trying to see if she had any treats this time. Seeing that she had none, they went over to sniff and investigate the women. One let out a big sneeze.
The humans were a bit more cautious. "Careful, Nessa-girl, Mother Owl," one guard said slowly, not convinced by the still-wagging tails of their canines. "Sometimes these ones can play possum, and kill you right when you're trying to help them."
The healer snorted, kneeling to examine the archer first. "Others than our people have a sense of honor, Tetum. Remember that. Keep quiet and keep watch now." Tetum bowed his head in obedience and kept a sharp eye out on the rocky cliffs and bluffs around them.
Nessa knelt by Owl, worried by the condition of her charges. "What do you see?" she asked softly.
Owl frowned, her eyes glazing as she called on her magic. A healer with seer powers, she could look inside the minds and bodies of her charges to see where help was needed most. "Power...these two were once swathed in a great power that was taken. A man has taken it, but was thwarted by a woman with a pure aura. Fire...the will of the volcanoes, the path of the blaze. Air...the winds of change, the breath of life. This one has many images of strange places in her mind. This other one has had her heart broken," she recited.
Nessa gasped. "Guardians?" She had heard stories, but could these two truly be some of those who helped shield their world from destructive forces?
The second guard drew an enormous sword as his face twisted into a mask of hate. Half-healed scars and shiny burned skin could be seen on the right half of his face and most of his arms not hidden by his clothes. "If this is the Lady of Fire, she deserves to have her throat cut. Many of our home grounds have been destroyed by volcanic eruptions since she abandoned our world," he snarled.
"Stop, Mensun!" Owl ordered, glancing up at him with strength in her eyes. "As leader of our tribe, the fate of the strangers is in my hands. I have seen and felt things in their minds that I am not yet certain of, and much of which suggests that the Guardian Bachlan is not the philanthropist he claims to be. One should be quicker with their ears and eyes than their sword."
Mensun met the powerful old woman's gaze for a moment, but soon had to look away. Slowly, reluctantly, he resheathed the sword. He knew what he owed the tribe Mother. "Your wishes?"
"Bring them to the camp, that we may hear their stories and decide if they are worth our alliance or not. Until then, they are under the protection of our hospitality laws," Owl replied strongly. Mensun and Tetum nodded and began to carefully place the women on the travois. With a yell to the dogs, they began the trudge back to their home camp.
Nessa hung back to escort Owl, often gazing ahead at the two women in wonder. "They are truly Guardians?"
For the first time in a long time, her beloved leader suddenly looked tired and old in Nessa's eyes. "So it appears. I see a great change in Merna's destiny, young Nessa. These two will have a hand in it, as will a great many others. However, I cannot yet see the path this change will follow." She blinked tiredly, then rubbed a wrinkled hand over one temple as if to ward off a headache. "Please help see to our guests."
"Yes, Mother Owl."
Aryn was semi-conscious, feeling like her skeleton had been swapped for one of ice and her blood with snow water. It seemed to be one of the drawbacks to having the fire essence torn from her body without being prepared for it.
She hadn't been this cold since the time she and Junon had been sparring on the northern coast of her wintry kingdom many years ago. Junon had just taught her the devastating Sonic Blast technique, Aryn had decided to try combining it with fire, the ice had had enough of getting hit with fire and sonic booms, and... things had gone downhill from there. Thank goodness Solana had been along to fish them both out of the freezing ocean.
Aryn could barely hear voices and the wuffing of dogs as she was being moved somewhere, and then she felt a blessed softness. Soothing warm light like that of the sun was poured into her, helping her body adjust to the loss of her power, and then she was covered in warm blankets and left in silence. Still too drained to wake and feeling warm at last, she drifted off once more.
Sometime later, Aryn opened her eyes and came fully awake. She felt empty with her fire gone after so long, as if a part of her spirit had been leeched away too. While her Celestial gift seemed to be in one piece, it would take a bit to recover its magical energy that had been zapped by her former leader. She was in no shape for a magical duel anytime soon.
Looking around, Aryn saw that she was inside a small hut of hides stretched over a wooden frame. She was stretched out on a soft bed, covered with toasty warm woolen blankets in brilliant colors. Nearby the other pallet in the room rested her pack and weapons.
And...a very familiar bow...
Aryn sat up straight, her hazel eyes traveling in horror to the slender figure wrapped up like a cocoon on that pallet. Short silver hairs could be seen sticking out between the layers of blankets, and the voice emitting slight mumbles was unmistakable.
Trista.
Aryn had learned plenty of languages on her journey, but couldn't think of the right word in any of them for the joke of fate that had put them together. Trista. Why on Merna had she been sent here with Trista, out of everyone? Even that humorless dry stick Joshua would have been an improvement!
No one was quite sure what Bachlan's methods for selecting Guardians had been, but matching temperaments had obviously not been in the mix. Aryn and Trista had clashed more than all of the others combined. In Aryn's opinion, Trista had her nose so far in the air that she was surprised birds didn't fly in it, and spent too much time glued to their leader's side like an adoring lapdog. Trista believed that Aryn was a cocky little brat with a big mouth.
Only Joshua had made the mistake of commenting that perhaps the two did not get along since they were so much alike. Aryn couldn't help laughing to herself as she remembered how she and Trista had joined forces to retaliate against such a nefarious insult. It had taken Eziban and Raoul all afternoon to help him hose off all of Aryn's best caramel 'tar' and Trista's arrow feathers.
Trista stirred at the sound. Moist purple eyes opened and gazed up blearily at her, then at their surroundings. "What are you laughing at?"
"Just the time that you and I had to get Joshua back for saying we're alike. He never made THAT mistake again," Aryn replied mercilessly.
An answering bit of mirth glowed in Trista's eyes. "He got the message." Trista looked around again and frowned, wondering at the hide-covered tent and the unfamiliar designs of rugs and blankets. "Where the hell are we? Never mind that, where is Joshua? And... the others?"
Aryn threw off her blankets, then rose and began to carefully stretch out her stiff muscles. She preferred to always be ready to rumble if need be, and had no idea how long she had been out. The tightness in her legs and back suggested a good while, while the bruises said that she hadn't landed somewhere comfortable. "Your guess is as good as mine. I figure Oriana bailed us out, then Bachlan screwed it up somehow."
Trista gave a jolt at the last portion, then rose slowly. One hand clenched her head as if it ached unbearably, and she closed her eyes again as if hoping that this was a bad dream and she'd wake up soon. "This is all your and Solana's fault, you know."
Aryn stopped in the middle of a stretch, peeking over at Trista in disbelief. "The blazes? The way I remember it, it was that idiot that ripped off all our power for his little 'chosen one' drama-"
"'Drama'? Ha!" Trista nearly spat in disgust. "You and Solana and Eziban are the ones who made that 'dramatic entrance', coming in with threats and going behind his back! How did you think he was going to react to that? Instead of acting like adults-"
Aryn felt her infamous temper flaring like a supernova and found her fists clenching of their own volition. "We already tried playing nice once! And what happened?" She took a step closer to her fellow Guardian, scratching her head mockingly as Trista's expression grew angrier and angrier. "Oh, yeah, that's right, he tried to BLAST me and nearly killed Solana in the process! So don't you try telling me that Bachlan is such a saint when he's nothing but a-"
"You and that little water witch always were a pair of self-righteous-" Trista cut in sharply.
The two women snapping at each other missed the polite knock that sounded on one of the tent posts. When no one answered, Nessa cautiously stuck her head in. "Honorable Guardians?" she asked hesitantly.
"WHAT??!!" Aryn and Trista roared back.
Nessa visibly cringed. "I, ah, I'm supposed to see if you have everything you need." She glanced from Trista's piercing glare to Aryn's scowl that had faded into embarrassment, and felt her courage swiftly draining. "Maybe I should come back later?"
"No, no, sorry about that. We've got everything we need, but thanks," Aryn answered quickly, trying desperately to shove her temper back down under control. Just because Trista had a way of pushing her buttons didn't mean that this nomad girl deserved to be caught in the crossfire of one of their spats.
"That's all right, it's our job to help other travelers in the world. Especially Guardians," the girl assured her.
Aryn muttered an oath under her breath, while Trista gasped. So much for having a cover. The girl, assured of the truth of it, went on. "My name is Nessa. You are the Fire and Air Guardians, yes?"
It wasn't like they could lie now. Aryn nodded reluctantly, then asked, "How did we get here? Did you guys bail us out?"
"I found you both on the slopes near our village while I was tending one of our herds of sheep. You were very cold, and you were having trouble breathing. Mother Owl said that your power was taken away? What happened?" Nessa asked excitedly. She was practically bouncing in her eagerness to hear everything, and likely pass it on later.
Trista drew herself up and answered stiffly, "This isn't some game, little girl. If you want to make yourself useful, you can bring us to that 'Mother Owl' you mentioned."
Nessa looked stung, and her enthusiasm flattened like a popped balloon. "She's...she's kind of busy, preparing for the night's ceremonies. I'm supposed to show you around until the evening meal by the fires, where you're invited to join us as our guests."
Aryn nodded, then glanced back at Trista to check. Trista shrugged half-heartedly, so Aryn put a smile on her face. "Sounds good to us. Can you give us a minute and we'll join you?"
"Of course!" Nessa replied, her good humor quickly restored. She bobbed a quick bow to them both and ducked back outside the tent.
Aryn turned to face Trista, having one more thing to get off of her mind before thanking their rescuers. "Whatever bad blood's between us, we keep these people out of it. You wanna tell me what you think of me, wait until we're alone." Before Trista could reply, she reluctantly added, "But if there's something that can't wait, you might as well get it out now."
Trista looked down at her arrow collection to hide the quivering of her lips, her fingers playing with the feathers on one of her favorites as if to distract herself. "You would have killed him those years ago, wouldn't you? If Oriana hadn't stopped you?"
"I-" Aryn paused, struck dumb by the question. She didn't know. Like Eziban, she hadn't been thinking straight. Bachlan had been hurting Solana, and Aryn had thought the best way to interrupt that was with a flaming blade. Beyond that, she hadn't really had a plan. One of Oriana's shields had put a stop to that.
But if she had finished him off, wouldn't Merna be a bit safer now? Or would it have led to a battle against Trista and Joshua? There was no way to ever know.
"Look, never mind what happened before. We're still Guardians, and it's finally time to make things right and stop this 'Great Rebirth' bull that Bachlan's going to try." She eyed Trista warily, and felt her normal bravado slipping away. "It looks like we're stuck with each other in the meantime."
Trista looked from Aryn to the doorway of the small hut, then back to Aryn as she reluctantly grabbed her bow and quiver. Her lower lip was pouted out like a child's. "What choice do I have?"
"None. Now let's go out and thank these guys for saving our skins," Aryn answered uneasily, buckling on her own weaponry.
There had been a hopelessness in that last question that Aryn had never heard in Trista's voice before. For better or for worse, right or wrong, Trista had never sounded anything less than confident or iron-clad in her decisions and way of thinking. There was something more wrong here. Aryn opened her mouth to ask about it, but Trista pushed past her to leave the tent first.
Aryn knew a lot about the nomad tribes that roamed the wild southern parts of this continent. Her own father had been a member of one of these tribes before meeting and settling down with her mother. There had also been many nomads passing through her neck of the woods growing up. However, some things had changed in sixteen thousand years, or even just the forty years during her wanderings hither and yonder with Solana, so she was eager to hear what had been going on since then.
Then again, considering that Nessa had quickly lost her shyness around two Guardians and was now as bubbly as a bottle of champagne that had been rolled down one of these mountains, Aryn figured that it wouldn't have mattered if she was curious or not. Certainly Trista's silence had been no detriment to the nomad girl's chatter.
"My tribe is the Tribe of the Hawk, looked after by Mother Owl," Nessa began proudly. She waved to an old woman carving beads of animal bone, then turned back to her 'audience'. "We're a semi-nomadic tribe, since we have several seasonal camps in our own lands and also stay in other countries. We follow our herds and food supplies and the wind, with all of us sharing our wealth and our skills with those tribe members who need it. We like to do things by hand instead of relying on technology."
"Cool, I bet you've seen plenty of our world by now," Aryn commented, nodding to the bead carver. She knew that the nomads were happy with their life choice and allowed those who were not to leave, but she had spent too many nights camped in the rain and cold on her journey to shun the luxuries of a solid structure and good heating unit.
"Nearly all of this continent," Nessa replied, beaming. "I was born in Sia Letia, you know, far off to the east. My brother was born near Deynain." She turned to Trista, who hadn't said a word yet. "What about you, Lady Trista? Where were you born?" she asked kindly.
Trista looked at her, then steadily away. Nessa looked stung for only a moment before turning back to Aryn and to explain about her family history, from her generation to some fairly distant ancestors. She seemed to have a different story for each family member.
Aryn was only half paying attention and supplying comments during Nessa's infrequent pauses. The rest of her attention was locked on Trista.
Trista wasn't even trying to hide her disinterest in Nessa's talking. She was walking a few paces behind, her head down and her eyes sad. Her head would tilt in different directions every couple of seconds, as if making points during an internal argument with herself. Her expression would shift from sadness to guilt to anger to... regret?
Come to think of it, had Trista been defending Bachlan during their argument in the tent? Why the blazes would she be doing that?
Aryn's eyes narrowed. There was something a little fishy here. Trista ending up on their side during the confrontation in the Citadel obviously hadn't been her idea. First she'd been trying to talk Bachlan out of his stupid 'Great Rebirth' idea, then she was trying to pin the whole mess on the rest of them, and now she was sullen. Sure, Trista had always cozied up to Bachlan and seemed to live for his compliments, but Aryn had always put that to Trista getting her ego inflated a bit more.
Had there been something more going on under their noses all this time?
Aryn REALLY didn't want her train of thought to go in that direction, and was thankfully provided with a distraction composed of loud whinnying. The trio had made it to one of the paddocks that housed some of the nomad's stock. Ponies and horses clipped bits of grass, pranced after their siblings, or held their heads proudly as they watched their human partners.
Nessa was all to happy to explain. The nomads were highly dependent on fine and hardy stock to carry them and their possessions through such rough territory, as well as smart and fast animals to help them in combat. Many times they had been approached by traders offering to sell them fine little airships or land rovers, but the response was always an emphatic 'no'. The tribes were very proud of the way that humans and ponies worked together to get a job done, and their independence. They didn't want to depend on fuel or parts or be separated from the clear voices of the elements that ruled their lives. Here in their own territory, they were known as 'Masters of the Wind'.
Nessa took a fistful of carrots out of her pocket and went to the fence, then let out a yipping call. A beautiful dark brown pony with a flowing black mane and tail came trotting up in response. Her large liquid brown eyes were intelligent and a bit shrewd as she studied the nomad girl, or more precisely, the treat in her hand. Nessa offered a carrot in an open palm, and the pony lowered her regal head and began crunching it.
"This is Sherasca. I raised her from a foal," Nessa explained.
Aryn held out a hand for a carrot stick and held the treat out. Sherasca sniffed her palm, then sneezed over the carrot. Aryn pulled back her hand in disgust to wipe it on her shirt.
"They usually don't like the smell of spices," Trista scoffed, her expression softening as she gazed at the beautiful animal. She took a carrot stick from Nessa and offered it to the pony, who softly lipped it from her palm. Aryn wanted to use her pony spit-covered hand to wipe that superior smirk right off of Trista's face. From the smug way Trista looked back at her as she stroked Sherasca's soft neck, she knew it very well.
Wanting to avoid any more confrontations between these two, Nessa wisely pulled them away from the ponies and brought them instead to a nearby fletcher's tent. Young men and women dutifully chipped arrowheads, bound them and carefully selected feathers to the shafts in traditional arrangements, then took the finished products for a test shot at some targets set up beyond the paddock. The bows they used had been lovingly carved and carefully oiled, and nary a bowstring was even thinking of fraying.
"Archery is one of most highly prized skills in the tribes, both for hunting and as a show of talent," Nessa said. The nomads who heard her raised their heads proudly and went back to work with a renewed vigor.
A light came to Trista's eyes as she came forward to examine the finished arrows awaiting their test. She picked up one reverently, smoothed down the feathers and touched the tip with a gentle finger. "Obsidian tips?" she murmured.
"Nothing but the best. We gather the obsidian ourselves from the mountains around here," Nessa replied proudly.
"This is... very beautiful work." Aryn raised an eyebrow at Trista's compliment. They were rare from that one.
As Nessa and the others insisted that she take a few for her collection and Trista tried to protest, Aryn moved on to some of their knives carved of the same shining black stone. She held one up, trying to examine the edge in better light, when she caught a reflection of an angry face in it. Whipping around, Aryn didn't spot its owner, but the hairs rose on the back of her neck. Some of the nomads were openly watching their group, but she didn't see the one who had snuck up on her.
"Say, Nessa, I have a question for you. It's purely hypothetical," Aryn said softly.
"Hmmm?"
"I don't suppose anyone around here has a reason not to like us?"
"Well, there were a few eruptions while you were gone that destroyed some of our herding grounds," Nessa replied slowly, choosing her words with care.
Aryn didn't like where this was going. "Who was hurt?"
"Mensun. There was an eruption about six years ago, and he was trying to get our herds out of the way of the lava. It caught up to him and gave him some terrible burns, some of which he'll never heal from," Nessa explained sadly. "He wanted to kill you when I found you, but Mother Owl wouldn't allow it."
Aryn flushed a little. "I'm sorry about that, but I don't have time to explain everything now. I just want you to know, Solana and I left for a damn good reason."
"I hope so," Nessa replied sadly. She decided not to mention Mensun's recovery, and how he had forced himself back to fighting shape by using his hatred for the Fire Guardian as a prodding tool.
A pattern of deep, deep drum beats suddenly traveled throughout the camp, and people put down what they were doing to head towards the center of their camp. "It's time for the evening meal around the fires. You are welcome to attend as our guests. I'll bring you to the infirmary tent to clean up a bit first."
"Thanks."
Nessa looked nervous, but said nothing as she led the Fire and Air Guardians to a large bonfire. Aryn took an evaluating glance at the crowd surrounding an elderly woman with wisdom and power shining in her eyes, questioning her decision to leave her and Trista's weapons behind. A few of the nomads relaxed once they saw the Guardians were unarmed, but the ones nearest the woman stayed vigilant and kept their blades close to hand. Aryn knew from past experience that the nomads were a proud, strong, but honorable people that revered their leader's word as law. This 'Mother Owl' was the one they would have to win over.
"Lady Aryn, Guardian of Fire. Lady Trista, Guardian of Air. I am Owl, the 'Mother' and Speaker of the Tribe of the Hawk. We have much to discuss." The elderly woman's voice held a subtle power, and she met their gaze calmly.
Aryn bowed to the woman, waiting for Trista to imitate her, then coughed loudly. Trista kept standing there, so Aryn elbowed her until she got the message and bowed as well.
"Do you mock our lady by seeking false modesty? After destroying how many of our villages?" a voice boomed. Aryn looked up and moaned, recognizing the face she had seen reflected in the obsidian knife. This was a guy even she wouldn't be too quick to challenge to a swordfight. Tall as she was, he towered over her and had an enormous sword within easy reach. The bulging muscles on his arms suggested that he could be dangerous in unarmed combat as well. As Nessa had said, there were many scars and burned patches to be seen on his body.
"Peace, Mensun!" Owl ordered, and the man scowled and quieted down. She turned back to her guests, suspicion and caution mixed in her expression. "I see you come to us unarmed, which suggests you seek peace. Is this so?"
"Yeah, we don't want to fight you guys. We owe you our lives, and we don't forget debts like that," Aryn answered. She wished fervently that Solana was here to handle this dance of diplomacy. If she let Trista handle it, the BEST they could hope for would involve being chased out by an angry mob.
"Several factors lie before me considering your fate," Owl commented, eying first Aryn, then Trista to make sure they understood her. "You are Guardians, who have helped shield the people from the forces of nature for millennia. Yet you and the Lady of Water left us four decades ago, which has resulted in some of our home grounds being destroyed by volcanic eruptions." Aryn's face flamed, but she bit her tongue. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"The Guardian Bachlan has attempted to blacken your name, but it has been suggested that his interests lie not in Merna's well-being. The stars claim that a pivotal point in the flow of Merna's destiny has arrived, and any actions must be carefully considered. Therefore, you will be allowed to state what you believe is truth, to convince us that you are worthy of our aid." When finished, Owl sat down and waited.
Aryn looked at Trista, wondering if she'd have to do this herself. "You guys got yourselves into this, get yourselves out," the silver-haired girl hissed, stepping back.
What a surprise. "Lady Owl, I beseech you to listen with an open mind to our story, for it is one that goes against what we've known for millennia," Aryn began. Where the blazes did that come from? 'Beseech'? She began her story, telling of what the Guardians had done for millennia. Next was Solana's mudslide accident, and when they had begun to realize the lack of knowledge they truly had considering their positions. She tried to stress how she and Solana had traveled to learn and had fought to keep Merna safe during the many conflicts they had been involved in, seeing many questioning and unconvinced glances. Lastly, she explained about Bachlan's 'Great Rebirth' nonsense.
"And that's how we ended up here. Bachlan was never interested in looking after the people, just trying to keep the world the same as in his memories. I don't regret leaving the Citadel, but only that it hurt you. The truth is, we can't go back to the way things were," Aryn explained, and glanced at her audience. "Ever."
The other nomads let out gasps at the plans of the man they had trusted for countless generations to protect them turn to something this drastic. "Are we certain that she is not lying?" Tetum asked.
Owl caught Aryn's eyes with her own for a second, then nodded. "I see no spark of deception on her spirit."
Aryn let out a huge sigh of relief. That had been easier than she had thought! "Great! So if you guys wanna help us out, that would be-"
"However, that does not mean your tale is wholly true. 'One cannot see all sides of a sphere from one point of view'," Owl interrupted.
Aryn sighed again, with much less optimism. There's always a catch.
"So just what are you going to do with us?" Trista finally chimed in, hands on her hips.
"You will be allowed to stay as our guests as I consult the heavenly bodies this evening. We shall meet again in the morning. Please show them their tents for the night." Owl got up slowly, signifying the conversation was over.
Trista was ready to protest, but Aryn poked her. She knew well that the stars had their own power, from the Celestial gift she possessed. Maybe I should try a little tweaking... nah, that wouldn't really be the right thing. Besides, with my luck so far, I'd shift things into a pattern that would say they should kill us in our sleep.
While a tribe member gestured for Aryn and Trista to follow her, Owl began trudging slowly towards a cliff to spend the night in meditation and consideration. Her bodyguards followed closely. Aryn noticed that the large man, Mensun, accompanied them. He turned one cold stare her way before following the rest of the group, and Aryn frowned thoughtfully.
A solitary figure crept quietly throughout the nomad camp. A single bit of moonlight gleamed on an unsheathed sword, and reflected the murderous glare in the deep brown eyes.
Finding the tent that housed their temporary ‘guest’, Mensun opened the tent flap and entered, cat-like. His prey slept peacefully, unknowing of the fate that awaited her. His lips drew back in a snarl. Cowardly traitor. She would be put down like the yapping bitch she was.
He crept closer, slowly, silently... and stumbled flat on his face with a yell of surprise.
Cold hazel eyes snapped open, and Aryn grabbed the sword that rested unsheathed within reach. “A little late to be visiting a lady’s tent, isn’t it?” she snapped.
Mensun looked back and noticed a soot-blackened tent rope strung between two poles, at the perfect trip level for a man his size. He glared back at the ready Fire Guardian with a look of pure hatred smoldering in his eyes. “You do not deserve to cross blades with a warrior of honor, but to be destroyed. Bow your head and accept your punishment!” he growled, lunging at her.
"That's a great show of your tribe's honor and courage, to go slitting guest's throats in the dead of night," Aryn retorted as she easily blocked, but both misjudged the enormous man’s momentum and went tumbling into the tent wall, breaking through and rolling onto the rocky ground outside.
Several of the nomads had been woken up by the noise and were outside staring. Trista appeared in a nightgown, her bow in her hands and an arrow on the string. “Aryn, what are you doing?” she demanded.
“Stay out of this! This is between the two of us!” Aryn retorted, scrambling to her feet as Mensun did the same.
Trista scowled and reluctantly lowered her bow. Aryn shook her head, since they had just barely started to think about considering working together, when another sword-swipe reminded her that she was a tad busy at the moment. She didn't want to kill the guy, just defeat him.
Aryn slashed at the man’s sword-arm. Mensun blocked the large blade with his own massive one in a two-handed grip, using his weight and leverage to push the joined blades back towards the Fire Guardian. Aryn’s arm muscles screamed, but she ignored it as she took advantage of their nearness to bring her knee up into his gut. Mensun grunted, but stood his ground as he grabbed her free arm to twist her up and over his back and threw her onto the solid rock.
The nomad tried to gut the Guardian when she landed, but Aryn rolled out of range. She thrust her legs up and leaped to her feet as Mensun struck again. Aryn gripped her sword on the hilt and blade in a two-handed parry.
Suddenly, the fingers on the blade began to burn from the heat of the flaming blade. Aryn was stunned for a moment, not having felt this sensation since being given her fire essence, then got her mind back to the fight. She shifted her block to a regular one-handed, the injured hand going for her morningstar, but Mensun aimed a left hook at her solar plexus and forced her to back off.
Mensun smiled and came in fast to slash again, thinking to press his advantage, but Aryn lunged low to gouge his calf. Mensun dodged her blow and brought his sword crashing down at her, but Aryn took a quick sidestep and cut in at his sword-arm, aiming for a pressure point that Solana had shown her.
Mensun wasn't going down that easily, but he backed off to recover for a second. His sword-arm bleeding heavily and in intense pain after that point hit, he switched hands and resumed his attack. Aryn, misjudging the man's speed after his injury, took a nasty hit to her left forearm as she dodged and countered with a slash at his shoulder.
As they continued to exchange savage blows and occasional hits, Aryn was swiftly coming to a grim realization. While she had experience and skill on her side, she was also slightly handicapped from the draining of her fire essence and not wanting to hurt him too much, while Mensun had the size advantage and righteous fury.
But Mensun's fury also made him make mistakes and left openings in his guard, she noticed quickly. After she parried another of his powerhouse slashes, he wildly swung in a wide crescent at her chest. Aryn ducked and launched a roundhouse kick at the sword in his hand, sending it flying, then moved her own blade an inch away from the nomad’s nose. “Do you yield?” she asked coldly. “You’ve lost fair and square, even if you didn‘t start our match that way.”
Mensun shook his head wildly. “I will not lose to one who stole my life from me!” he roared. He snatched the very sharp blade away from his nose with a bare hand and punched Aryn straight in the face.
She staggered back, her eyes automatically tearing up as she berated herself. This man wanted to kill her- it wasn’t just a nice formal match! Cursing the loss of her ability to sense body heat, she took a quick second to wipe her eyes. Unfortunately, that was all Mensun needed to deliver a sharp jab to her arm muscle, causing her hand to drop her blade. Before Aryn knew what had happened, a meaty arm was around her throat while her left arm was forced back over her head in a classic sleeper hold.
Pressure began to be exerted on her throat as she was lifted off of her feet. Aryn’s eyes went wide as she realized he planned to break her neck this way. That's it, I'm done feeling sorry for you! You asked for it!
After bringing her knees up, Aryn then slammed both feet back, hitting low and hard. Her legs had been strengthened as thoroughly as her arms during millennia of training. Mensun whimpered as he crumpled and lost his grip on Aryn. His eyes teared up. Aryn rolled out of reach and grabbed her sword in one swift movement. Then she scrambled to her feet again, knocked the man on his back with the flat of her blade and held the tip against the very skin of his throat this time.
“Now do you yield?!” she snarled. “I can’t die here- I have work to do. If Bachlan manages to pull off his plan, I don't think anyone in your tribe will be left alive!”
There was no reply. With the match officially over, guards of the tribe came to help Mensun up and take him into custody and tend his wounds. Surprise and disbelief shone through her opponent's pain-glazed features as he stared at the victor.
"Why didn't you use that celestial whatsit that you picked up?" Trista hissed.
Aryn shook her head. "That wouldn't have been right. It was meant to be an even match, warrior to warrior."
Trista smirked. "How honorable was it to kick him in the-"
"Oh, shut up."
The tribe's Mother was just behind her bodyguards, walking with a speed and steadiness that belied her age. Owl's expression was of controlled anger, the kind that was far more terrifying than ranting and raving. "I shall tend your wounds, and we will make restitution for this breach of our laws," she remarked tightly.
"What about Mensun? I understand what he's going through, but you can't just-" Aryn began.
"You willingly forfeited your rights to his life. His other violation, that of Mother Owl's word, is under our law to punish," a nomad interrupted coolly.
"Revenge can blind a person's sense. Trust me, I've seen it-" Aryn tried.
"We have a lot more important things to worry about," Trista remarked crossly, putting her bow away. She had only a sniff of disdain for the foolish nomad man that had tried to take Aryn on. "Let them deal with it. Honestly, Aryn, the man tried to KILL you!"
Aryn hated to admit it, but she had a point. Time was not a luxury they had right now, and that crazed maniac with the power of all their essences was a human timebomb.
"We will provide you with steeds throughout our lands, as an apology for not keeping you safe under our hospitality laws. Once you have reached the Crystal Citadel, you are on your own. I realize it may sound harsh, but you Guardians are far better equipped to handle this than my people, and we must think on protecting our own. Nessa, will you accompany them to care for the horses and return them?" Owl asked.
Nessa's eyes sparkled. "Yes, of course, Mother Owl!"
Trista opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. Having one more child along couldn't make things any worse. Better still, she might keep Aryn occupied, leaving her to her own thoughts.
Aryn gave her a welcoming smile. She couldn't fault Owl for wanting to look after her own, and figured it would be better to not get any more people mixed up in this mess than was strictly necessary. "Thank you both. We should get some sleep before heading out. It's going to be a rough trip."
"You can both sleep in my family's tent, just to be on the safe side," Nessa offered eagerly. Aryn nodded her thanks.
Nessa raced back to her tent, her step much springier and more enthusiastic than before. Trista trooped along silently behind her. Aryn waited patiently as Owl's power flowed into her body for the second time that day, marveling at the woman's skill. She was almost as good as Solana or Oriana. "It is possible for the wind and the flames to join together into a force greater than either one alone, provided they are willing to overcome their weaknesses to each other," Owl commented.
Aryn twisted her arm experimentally. "That's a pretty tall order, you know, but I'll think on that. Thanks for your help so far, and I wanna talk with you more about Mensun after this mess is cleaned up." Owl said nothing either way, but merely returned to her meditation point for the night.
As Aryn curled up in an extra bedroll in Nessa's tent, she stared at the ceiling, not able to sleep quite yet. She and Solana had made a choice the night they had left- not only for themselves, but for their people as well. Sure, it sounded fine to go off and journey for answers in how to be a better Guardian, but there had been serious repercussions to leaving their world under Bachlan's dubious care all this time. She wondered what sort of repercussions Solana had been learning about, wherever she was.
Solana, we have a lot more to set right than just preventing this 'Great Rebirth' bull. We have to start from scratch in figuring a new way of doing things...
I don't work for you, you don't work for me. We're a team, get it? As in "I will kick your sorry ass if you don't listen to me" team.
Agent Fuller, Miss Congeniality 2
A pure, sweet voice rose in a greeting song to the dawn among the dark crimson and brown rocks of the Great Simbel mountain range of southern Merna. It belonged to a young woman in her late teens who was tending one of her tribe's flocks of sheep. Her gold hair sparkled in the sun, and a slight breeze teased the feathers tied into it and ruffled the fringed leathers and brightly-printed wool she wore for warmth. She used her fighting staff as a walking stick up the rocky ground, following the sheep that were searching for a meal of grass.
"What do you think, little ones? Is it time for us to be moving on soon?" she asked after her song's completion. Most of the sheep ignored her, intent on a juicy patch of greenery just ahead.
Up ahead, a few of her woolly charges began bleating in shock. The woman took a better grip on her staff and sprinted towards the alarmed sheep. Her other hand went to the small pouch on her belt that held a bone whistle used to give alarm calls to the rest of her tribe. Grass or no, she never took her flock out of earshot of a whistle blast when tending them alone. The mountains gave refuge to far too many bandits.
She soon reached the small group of sheep clustered around two unconscious women sprawled out on the ground. One had red-streaked black hair and a strange sword strapped to her back and a morningstar at her hip. She was shaking with cold, and her skin seemed to be taking on a very slight bluish tinge. The other woman was silver-haired and had a high quality bow slung on her back. Her breathing was strained and punctuated with little gasps.
The young woman first checked the archer's air passages to ensure that she would keep breathing, then took the warm woolen cloak from her back and spread it over the swordswoman as a makeshift blanket. After doing a quick recon of the area to check that there were no enemies lying in wait, she pulled out her whistle to signal her tribe. The combination of blasts told them that there was no danger here, but that she needed a healer and some guards with travois.
After hearing an affirmative response call, she kept her staff in hand and took a guard position over her two new charges. The sheep stayed nearby, and their senses for danger were welcome. As nomads, her people made it a point to help any other traveler in need.
Taking another look at the pair, seeing the fine purple and black velvets the archer wore compared to the travel-worn leathers and cotton of the swordswoman, she wondered if the latter was perhaps a servant or bodyguard of some kind. But that would have to wait until they had been tended.
The excited barking of dogs signaled the arrival of those she had summoned. There was the healer she had asked for, two of the tribe's warriors for guards, and four sturdy dogs equipped with two travois for transporting. The dogs came up to lick the young woman, wagging their tails excitedly and trying to see if she had any treats this time. Seeing that she had none, they went over to sniff and investigate the women. One let out a big sneeze.
The humans were a bit more cautious. "Careful, Nessa-girl, Mother Owl," one guard said slowly, not convinced by the still-wagging tails of their canines. "Sometimes these ones can play possum, and kill you right when you're trying to help them."
The healer snorted, kneeling to examine the archer first. "Others than our people have a sense of honor, Tetum. Remember that. Keep quiet and keep watch now." Tetum bowed his head in obedience and kept a sharp eye out on the rocky cliffs and bluffs around them.
Nessa knelt by Owl, worried by the condition of her charges. "What do you see?" she asked softly.
Owl frowned, her eyes glazing as she called on her magic. A healer with seer powers, she could look inside the minds and bodies of her charges to see where help was needed most. "Power...these two were once swathed in a great power that was taken. A man has taken it, but was thwarted by a woman with a pure aura. Fire...the will of the volcanoes, the path of the blaze. Air...the winds of change, the breath of life. This one has many images of strange places in her mind. This other one has had her heart broken," she recited.
Nessa gasped. "Guardians?" She had heard stories, but could these two truly be some of those who helped shield their world from destructive forces?
The second guard drew an enormous sword as his face twisted into a mask of hate. Half-healed scars and shiny burned skin could be seen on the right half of his face and most of his arms not hidden by his clothes. "If this is the Lady of Fire, she deserves to have her throat cut. Many of our home grounds have been destroyed by volcanic eruptions since she abandoned our world," he snarled.
"Stop, Mensun!" Owl ordered, glancing up at him with strength in her eyes. "As leader of our tribe, the fate of the strangers is in my hands. I have seen and felt things in their minds that I am not yet certain of, and much of which suggests that the Guardian Bachlan is not the philanthropist he claims to be. One should be quicker with their ears and eyes than their sword."
Mensun met the powerful old woman's gaze for a moment, but soon had to look away. Slowly, reluctantly, he resheathed the sword. He knew what he owed the tribe Mother. "Your wishes?"
"Bring them to the camp, that we may hear their stories and decide if they are worth our alliance or not. Until then, they are under the protection of our hospitality laws," Owl replied strongly. Mensun and Tetum nodded and began to carefully place the women on the travois. With a yell to the dogs, they began the trudge back to their home camp.
Nessa hung back to escort Owl, often gazing ahead at the two women in wonder. "They are truly Guardians?"
For the first time in a long time, her beloved leader suddenly looked tired and old in Nessa's eyes. "So it appears. I see a great change in Merna's destiny, young Nessa. These two will have a hand in it, as will a great many others. However, I cannot yet see the path this change will follow." She blinked tiredly, then rubbed a wrinkled hand over one temple as if to ward off a headache. "Please help see to our guests."
"Yes, Mother Owl."
Aryn was semi-conscious, feeling like her skeleton had been swapped for one of ice and her blood with snow water. It seemed to be one of the drawbacks to having the fire essence torn from her body without being prepared for it.
She hadn't been this cold since the time she and Junon had been sparring on the northern coast of her wintry kingdom many years ago. Junon had just taught her the devastating Sonic Blast technique, Aryn had decided to try combining it with fire, the ice had had enough of getting hit with fire and sonic booms, and... things had gone downhill from there. Thank goodness Solana had been along to fish them both out of the freezing ocean.
Aryn could barely hear voices and the wuffing of dogs as she was being moved somewhere, and then she felt a blessed softness. Soothing warm light like that of the sun was poured into her, helping her body adjust to the loss of her power, and then she was covered in warm blankets and left in silence. Still too drained to wake and feeling warm at last, she drifted off once more.
Sometime later, Aryn opened her eyes and came fully awake. She felt empty with her fire gone after so long, as if a part of her spirit had been leeched away too. While her Celestial gift seemed to be in one piece, it would take a bit to recover its magical energy that had been zapped by her former leader. She was in no shape for a magical duel anytime soon.
Looking around, Aryn saw that she was inside a small hut of hides stretched over a wooden frame. She was stretched out on a soft bed, covered with toasty warm woolen blankets in brilliant colors. Nearby the other pallet in the room rested her pack and weapons.
And...a very familiar bow...
Aryn sat up straight, her hazel eyes traveling in horror to the slender figure wrapped up like a cocoon on that pallet. Short silver hairs could be seen sticking out between the layers of blankets, and the voice emitting slight mumbles was unmistakable.
Trista.
Aryn had learned plenty of languages on her journey, but couldn't think of the right word in any of them for the joke of fate that had put them together. Trista. Why on Merna had she been sent here with Trista, out of everyone? Even that humorless dry stick Joshua would have been an improvement!
No one was quite sure what Bachlan's methods for selecting Guardians had been, but matching temperaments had obviously not been in the mix. Aryn and Trista had clashed more than all of the others combined. In Aryn's opinion, Trista had her nose so far in the air that she was surprised birds didn't fly in it, and spent too much time glued to their leader's side like an adoring lapdog. Trista believed that Aryn was a cocky little brat with a big mouth.
Only Joshua had made the mistake of commenting that perhaps the two did not get along since they were so much alike. Aryn couldn't help laughing to herself as she remembered how she and Trista had joined forces to retaliate against such a nefarious insult. It had taken Eziban and Raoul all afternoon to help him hose off all of Aryn's best caramel 'tar' and Trista's arrow feathers.
Trista stirred at the sound. Moist purple eyes opened and gazed up blearily at her, then at their surroundings. "What are you laughing at?"
"Just the time that you and I had to get Joshua back for saying we're alike. He never made THAT mistake again," Aryn replied mercilessly.
An answering bit of mirth glowed in Trista's eyes. "He got the message." Trista looked around again and frowned, wondering at the hide-covered tent and the unfamiliar designs of rugs and blankets. "Where the hell are we? Never mind that, where is Joshua? And... the others?"
Aryn threw off her blankets, then rose and began to carefully stretch out her stiff muscles. She preferred to always be ready to rumble if need be, and had no idea how long she had been out. The tightness in her legs and back suggested a good while, while the bruises said that she hadn't landed somewhere comfortable. "Your guess is as good as mine. I figure Oriana bailed us out, then Bachlan screwed it up somehow."
Trista gave a jolt at the last portion, then rose slowly. One hand clenched her head as if it ached unbearably, and she closed her eyes again as if hoping that this was a bad dream and she'd wake up soon. "This is all your and Solana's fault, you know."
Aryn stopped in the middle of a stretch, peeking over at Trista in disbelief. "The blazes? The way I remember it, it was that idiot that ripped off all our power for his little 'chosen one' drama-"
"'Drama'? Ha!" Trista nearly spat in disgust. "You and Solana and Eziban are the ones who made that 'dramatic entrance', coming in with threats and going behind his back! How did you think he was going to react to that? Instead of acting like adults-"
Aryn felt her infamous temper flaring like a supernova and found her fists clenching of their own volition. "We already tried playing nice once! And what happened?" She took a step closer to her fellow Guardian, scratching her head mockingly as Trista's expression grew angrier and angrier. "Oh, yeah, that's right, he tried to BLAST me and nearly killed Solana in the process! So don't you try telling me that Bachlan is such a saint when he's nothing but a-"
"You and that little water witch always were a pair of self-righteous-" Trista cut in sharply.
The two women snapping at each other missed the polite knock that sounded on one of the tent posts. When no one answered, Nessa cautiously stuck her head in. "Honorable Guardians?" she asked hesitantly.
"WHAT??!!" Aryn and Trista roared back.
Nessa visibly cringed. "I, ah, I'm supposed to see if you have everything you need." She glanced from Trista's piercing glare to Aryn's scowl that had faded into embarrassment, and felt her courage swiftly draining. "Maybe I should come back later?"
"No, no, sorry about that. We've got everything we need, but thanks," Aryn answered quickly, trying desperately to shove her temper back down under control. Just because Trista had a way of pushing her buttons didn't mean that this nomad girl deserved to be caught in the crossfire of one of their spats.
"That's all right, it's our job to help other travelers in the world. Especially Guardians," the girl assured her.
Aryn muttered an oath under her breath, while Trista gasped. So much for having a cover. The girl, assured of the truth of it, went on. "My name is Nessa. You are the Fire and Air Guardians, yes?"
It wasn't like they could lie now. Aryn nodded reluctantly, then asked, "How did we get here? Did you guys bail us out?"
"I found you both on the slopes near our village while I was tending one of our herds of sheep. You were very cold, and you were having trouble breathing. Mother Owl said that your power was taken away? What happened?" Nessa asked excitedly. She was practically bouncing in her eagerness to hear everything, and likely pass it on later.
Trista drew herself up and answered stiffly, "This isn't some game, little girl. If you want to make yourself useful, you can bring us to that 'Mother Owl' you mentioned."
Nessa looked stung, and her enthusiasm flattened like a popped balloon. "She's...she's kind of busy, preparing for the night's ceremonies. I'm supposed to show you around until the evening meal by the fires, where you're invited to join us as our guests."
Aryn nodded, then glanced back at Trista to check. Trista shrugged half-heartedly, so Aryn put a smile on her face. "Sounds good to us. Can you give us a minute and we'll join you?"
"Of course!" Nessa replied, her good humor quickly restored. She bobbed a quick bow to them both and ducked back outside the tent.
Aryn turned to face Trista, having one more thing to get off of her mind before thanking their rescuers. "Whatever bad blood's between us, we keep these people out of it. You wanna tell me what you think of me, wait until we're alone." Before Trista could reply, she reluctantly added, "But if there's something that can't wait, you might as well get it out now."
Trista looked down at her arrow collection to hide the quivering of her lips, her fingers playing with the feathers on one of her favorites as if to distract herself. "You would have killed him those years ago, wouldn't you? If Oriana hadn't stopped you?"
"I-" Aryn paused, struck dumb by the question. She didn't know. Like Eziban, she hadn't been thinking straight. Bachlan had been hurting Solana, and Aryn had thought the best way to interrupt that was with a flaming blade. Beyond that, she hadn't really had a plan. One of Oriana's shields had put a stop to that.
But if she had finished him off, wouldn't Merna be a bit safer now? Or would it have led to a battle against Trista and Joshua? There was no way to ever know.
"Look, never mind what happened before. We're still Guardians, and it's finally time to make things right and stop this 'Great Rebirth' bull that Bachlan's going to try." She eyed Trista warily, and felt her normal bravado slipping away. "It looks like we're stuck with each other in the meantime."
Trista looked from Aryn to the doorway of the small hut, then back to Aryn as she reluctantly grabbed her bow and quiver. Her lower lip was pouted out like a child's. "What choice do I have?"
"None. Now let's go out and thank these guys for saving our skins," Aryn answered uneasily, buckling on her own weaponry.
There had been a hopelessness in that last question that Aryn had never heard in Trista's voice before. For better or for worse, right or wrong, Trista had never sounded anything less than confident or iron-clad in her decisions and way of thinking. There was something more wrong here. Aryn opened her mouth to ask about it, but Trista pushed past her to leave the tent first.
Aryn knew a lot about the nomad tribes that roamed the wild southern parts of this continent. Her own father had been a member of one of these tribes before meeting and settling down with her mother. There had also been many nomads passing through her neck of the woods growing up. However, some things had changed in sixteen thousand years, or even just the forty years during her wanderings hither and yonder with Solana, so she was eager to hear what had been going on since then.
Then again, considering that Nessa had quickly lost her shyness around two Guardians and was now as bubbly as a bottle of champagne that had been rolled down one of these mountains, Aryn figured that it wouldn't have mattered if she was curious or not. Certainly Trista's silence had been no detriment to the nomad girl's chatter.
"My tribe is the Tribe of the Hawk, looked after by Mother Owl," Nessa began proudly. She waved to an old woman carving beads of animal bone, then turned back to her 'audience'. "We're a semi-nomadic tribe, since we have several seasonal camps in our own lands and also stay in other countries. We follow our herds and food supplies and the wind, with all of us sharing our wealth and our skills with those tribe members who need it. We like to do things by hand instead of relying on technology."
"Cool, I bet you've seen plenty of our world by now," Aryn commented, nodding to the bead carver. She knew that the nomads were happy with their life choice and allowed those who were not to leave, but she had spent too many nights camped in the rain and cold on her journey to shun the luxuries of a solid structure and good heating unit.
"Nearly all of this continent," Nessa replied, beaming. "I was born in Sia Letia, you know, far off to the east. My brother was born near Deynain." She turned to Trista, who hadn't said a word yet. "What about you, Lady Trista? Where were you born?" she asked kindly.
Trista looked at her, then steadily away. Nessa looked stung for only a moment before turning back to Aryn and to explain about her family history, from her generation to some fairly distant ancestors. She seemed to have a different story for each family member.
Aryn was only half paying attention and supplying comments during Nessa's infrequent pauses. The rest of her attention was locked on Trista.
Trista wasn't even trying to hide her disinterest in Nessa's talking. She was walking a few paces behind, her head down and her eyes sad. Her head would tilt in different directions every couple of seconds, as if making points during an internal argument with herself. Her expression would shift from sadness to guilt to anger to... regret?
Come to think of it, had Trista been defending Bachlan during their argument in the tent? Why the blazes would she be doing that?
Aryn's eyes narrowed. There was something a little fishy here. Trista ending up on their side during the confrontation in the Citadel obviously hadn't been her idea. First she'd been trying to talk Bachlan out of his stupid 'Great Rebirth' idea, then she was trying to pin the whole mess on the rest of them, and now she was sullen. Sure, Trista had always cozied up to Bachlan and seemed to live for his compliments, but Aryn had always put that to Trista getting her ego inflated a bit more.
Had there been something more going on under their noses all this time?
Aryn REALLY didn't want her train of thought to go in that direction, and was thankfully provided with a distraction composed of loud whinnying. The trio had made it to one of the paddocks that housed some of the nomad's stock. Ponies and horses clipped bits of grass, pranced after their siblings, or held their heads proudly as they watched their human partners.
Nessa was all to happy to explain. The nomads were highly dependent on fine and hardy stock to carry them and their possessions through such rough territory, as well as smart and fast animals to help them in combat. Many times they had been approached by traders offering to sell them fine little airships or land rovers, but the response was always an emphatic 'no'. The tribes were very proud of the way that humans and ponies worked together to get a job done, and their independence. They didn't want to depend on fuel or parts or be separated from the clear voices of the elements that ruled their lives. Here in their own territory, they were known as 'Masters of the Wind'.
Nessa took a fistful of carrots out of her pocket and went to the fence, then let out a yipping call. A beautiful dark brown pony with a flowing black mane and tail came trotting up in response. Her large liquid brown eyes were intelligent and a bit shrewd as she studied the nomad girl, or more precisely, the treat in her hand. Nessa offered a carrot in an open palm, and the pony lowered her regal head and began crunching it.
"This is Sherasca. I raised her from a foal," Nessa explained.
Aryn held out a hand for a carrot stick and held the treat out. Sherasca sniffed her palm, then sneezed over the carrot. Aryn pulled back her hand in disgust to wipe it on her shirt.
"They usually don't like the smell of spices," Trista scoffed, her expression softening as she gazed at the beautiful animal. She took a carrot stick from Nessa and offered it to the pony, who softly lipped it from her palm. Aryn wanted to use her pony spit-covered hand to wipe that superior smirk right off of Trista's face. From the smug way Trista looked back at her as she stroked Sherasca's soft neck, she knew it very well.
Wanting to avoid any more confrontations between these two, Nessa wisely pulled them away from the ponies and brought them instead to a nearby fletcher's tent. Young men and women dutifully chipped arrowheads, bound them and carefully selected feathers to the shafts in traditional arrangements, then took the finished products for a test shot at some targets set up beyond the paddock. The bows they used had been lovingly carved and carefully oiled, and nary a bowstring was even thinking of fraying.
"Archery is one of most highly prized skills in the tribes, both for hunting and as a show of talent," Nessa said. The nomads who heard her raised their heads proudly and went back to work with a renewed vigor.
A light came to Trista's eyes as she came forward to examine the finished arrows awaiting their test. She picked up one reverently, smoothed down the feathers and touched the tip with a gentle finger. "Obsidian tips?" she murmured.
"Nothing but the best. We gather the obsidian ourselves from the mountains around here," Nessa replied proudly.
"This is... very beautiful work." Aryn raised an eyebrow at Trista's compliment. They were rare from that one.
As Nessa and the others insisted that she take a few for her collection and Trista tried to protest, Aryn moved on to some of their knives carved of the same shining black stone. She held one up, trying to examine the edge in better light, when she caught a reflection of an angry face in it. Whipping around, Aryn didn't spot its owner, but the hairs rose on the back of her neck. Some of the nomads were openly watching their group, but she didn't see the one who had snuck up on her.
"Say, Nessa, I have a question for you. It's purely hypothetical," Aryn said softly.
"Hmmm?"
"I don't suppose anyone around here has a reason not to like us?"
"Well, there were a few eruptions while you were gone that destroyed some of our herding grounds," Nessa replied slowly, choosing her words with care.
Aryn didn't like where this was going. "Who was hurt?"
"Mensun. There was an eruption about six years ago, and he was trying to get our herds out of the way of the lava. It caught up to him and gave him some terrible burns, some of which he'll never heal from," Nessa explained sadly. "He wanted to kill you when I found you, but Mother Owl wouldn't allow it."
Aryn flushed a little. "I'm sorry about that, but I don't have time to explain everything now. I just want you to know, Solana and I left for a damn good reason."
"I hope so," Nessa replied sadly. She decided not to mention Mensun's recovery, and how he had forced himself back to fighting shape by using his hatred for the Fire Guardian as a prodding tool.
A pattern of deep, deep drum beats suddenly traveled throughout the camp, and people put down what they were doing to head towards the center of their camp. "It's time for the evening meal around the fires. You are welcome to attend as our guests. I'll bring you to the infirmary tent to clean up a bit first."
"Thanks."
Nessa looked nervous, but said nothing as she led the Fire and Air Guardians to a large bonfire. Aryn took an evaluating glance at the crowd surrounding an elderly woman with wisdom and power shining in her eyes, questioning her decision to leave her and Trista's weapons behind. A few of the nomads relaxed once they saw the Guardians were unarmed, but the ones nearest the woman stayed vigilant and kept their blades close to hand. Aryn knew from past experience that the nomads were a proud, strong, but honorable people that revered their leader's word as law. This 'Mother Owl' was the one they would have to win over.
"Lady Aryn, Guardian of Fire. Lady Trista, Guardian of Air. I am Owl, the 'Mother' and Speaker of the Tribe of the Hawk. We have much to discuss." The elderly woman's voice held a subtle power, and she met their gaze calmly.
Aryn bowed to the woman, waiting for Trista to imitate her, then coughed loudly. Trista kept standing there, so Aryn elbowed her until she got the message and bowed as well.
"Do you mock our lady by seeking false modesty? After destroying how many of our villages?" a voice boomed. Aryn looked up and moaned, recognizing the face she had seen reflected in the obsidian knife. This was a guy even she wouldn't be too quick to challenge to a swordfight. Tall as she was, he towered over her and had an enormous sword within easy reach. The bulging muscles on his arms suggested that he could be dangerous in unarmed combat as well. As Nessa had said, there were many scars and burned patches to be seen on his body.
"Peace, Mensun!" Owl ordered, and the man scowled and quieted down. She turned back to her guests, suspicion and caution mixed in her expression. "I see you come to us unarmed, which suggests you seek peace. Is this so?"
"Yeah, we don't want to fight you guys. We owe you our lives, and we don't forget debts like that," Aryn answered. She wished fervently that Solana was here to handle this dance of diplomacy. If she let Trista handle it, the BEST they could hope for would involve being chased out by an angry mob.
"Several factors lie before me considering your fate," Owl commented, eying first Aryn, then Trista to make sure they understood her. "You are Guardians, who have helped shield the people from the forces of nature for millennia. Yet you and the Lady of Water left us four decades ago, which has resulted in some of our home grounds being destroyed by volcanic eruptions." Aryn's face flamed, but she bit her tongue. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"The Guardian Bachlan has attempted to blacken your name, but it has been suggested that his interests lie not in Merna's well-being. The stars claim that a pivotal point in the flow of Merna's destiny has arrived, and any actions must be carefully considered. Therefore, you will be allowed to state what you believe is truth, to convince us that you are worthy of our aid." When finished, Owl sat down and waited.
Aryn looked at Trista, wondering if she'd have to do this herself. "You guys got yourselves into this, get yourselves out," the silver-haired girl hissed, stepping back.
What a surprise. "Lady Owl, I beseech you to listen with an open mind to our story, for it is one that goes against what we've known for millennia," Aryn began. Where the blazes did that come from? 'Beseech'? She began her story, telling of what the Guardians had done for millennia. Next was Solana's mudslide accident, and when they had begun to realize the lack of knowledge they truly had considering their positions. She tried to stress how she and Solana had traveled to learn and had fought to keep Merna safe during the many conflicts they had been involved in, seeing many questioning and unconvinced glances. Lastly, she explained about Bachlan's 'Great Rebirth' nonsense.
"And that's how we ended up here. Bachlan was never interested in looking after the people, just trying to keep the world the same as in his memories. I don't regret leaving the Citadel, but only that it hurt you. The truth is, we can't go back to the way things were," Aryn explained, and glanced at her audience. "Ever."
The other nomads let out gasps at the plans of the man they had trusted for countless generations to protect them turn to something this drastic. "Are we certain that she is not lying?" Tetum asked.
Owl caught Aryn's eyes with her own for a second, then nodded. "I see no spark of deception on her spirit."
Aryn let out a huge sigh of relief. That had been easier than she had thought! "Great! So if you guys wanna help us out, that would be-"
"However, that does not mean your tale is wholly true. 'One cannot see all sides of a sphere from one point of view'," Owl interrupted.
Aryn sighed again, with much less optimism. There's always a catch.
"So just what are you going to do with us?" Trista finally chimed in, hands on her hips.
"You will be allowed to stay as our guests as I consult the heavenly bodies this evening. We shall meet again in the morning. Please show them their tents for the night." Owl got up slowly, signifying the conversation was over.
Trista was ready to protest, but Aryn poked her. She knew well that the stars had their own power, from the Celestial gift she possessed. Maybe I should try a little tweaking... nah, that wouldn't really be the right thing. Besides, with my luck so far, I'd shift things into a pattern that would say they should kill us in our sleep.
While a tribe member gestured for Aryn and Trista to follow her, Owl began trudging slowly towards a cliff to spend the night in meditation and consideration. Her bodyguards followed closely. Aryn noticed that the large man, Mensun, accompanied them. He turned one cold stare her way before following the rest of the group, and Aryn frowned thoughtfully.
A solitary figure crept quietly throughout the nomad camp. A single bit of moonlight gleamed on an unsheathed sword, and reflected the murderous glare in the deep brown eyes.
Finding the tent that housed their temporary ‘guest’, Mensun opened the tent flap and entered, cat-like. His prey slept peacefully, unknowing of the fate that awaited her. His lips drew back in a snarl. Cowardly traitor. She would be put down like the yapping bitch she was.
He crept closer, slowly, silently... and stumbled flat on his face with a yell of surprise.
Cold hazel eyes snapped open, and Aryn grabbed the sword that rested unsheathed within reach. “A little late to be visiting a lady’s tent, isn’t it?” she snapped.
Mensun looked back and noticed a soot-blackened tent rope strung between two poles, at the perfect trip level for a man his size. He glared back at the ready Fire Guardian with a look of pure hatred smoldering in his eyes. “You do not deserve to cross blades with a warrior of honor, but to be destroyed. Bow your head and accept your punishment!” he growled, lunging at her.
"That's a great show of your tribe's honor and courage, to go slitting guest's throats in the dead of night," Aryn retorted as she easily blocked, but both misjudged the enormous man’s momentum and went tumbling into the tent wall, breaking through and rolling onto the rocky ground outside.
Several of the nomads had been woken up by the noise and were outside staring. Trista appeared in a nightgown, her bow in her hands and an arrow on the string. “Aryn, what are you doing?” she demanded.
“Stay out of this! This is between the two of us!” Aryn retorted, scrambling to her feet as Mensun did the same.
Trista scowled and reluctantly lowered her bow. Aryn shook her head, since they had just barely started to think about considering working together, when another sword-swipe reminded her that she was a tad busy at the moment. She didn't want to kill the guy, just defeat him.
Aryn slashed at the man’s sword-arm. Mensun blocked the large blade with his own massive one in a two-handed grip, using his weight and leverage to push the joined blades back towards the Fire Guardian. Aryn’s arm muscles screamed, but she ignored it as she took advantage of their nearness to bring her knee up into his gut. Mensun grunted, but stood his ground as he grabbed her free arm to twist her up and over his back and threw her onto the solid rock.
The nomad tried to gut the Guardian when she landed, but Aryn rolled out of range. She thrust her legs up and leaped to her feet as Mensun struck again. Aryn gripped her sword on the hilt and blade in a two-handed parry.
Suddenly, the fingers on the blade began to burn from the heat of the flaming blade. Aryn was stunned for a moment, not having felt this sensation since being given her fire essence, then got her mind back to the fight. She shifted her block to a regular one-handed, the injured hand going for her morningstar, but Mensun aimed a left hook at her solar plexus and forced her to back off.
Mensun smiled and came in fast to slash again, thinking to press his advantage, but Aryn lunged low to gouge his calf. Mensun dodged her blow and brought his sword crashing down at her, but Aryn took a quick sidestep and cut in at his sword-arm, aiming for a pressure point that Solana had shown her.
Mensun wasn't going down that easily, but he backed off to recover for a second. His sword-arm bleeding heavily and in intense pain after that point hit, he switched hands and resumed his attack. Aryn, misjudging the man's speed after his injury, took a nasty hit to her left forearm as she dodged and countered with a slash at his shoulder.
As they continued to exchange savage blows and occasional hits, Aryn was swiftly coming to a grim realization. While she had experience and skill on her side, she was also slightly handicapped from the draining of her fire essence and not wanting to hurt him too much, while Mensun had the size advantage and righteous fury.
But Mensun's fury also made him make mistakes and left openings in his guard, she noticed quickly. After she parried another of his powerhouse slashes, he wildly swung in a wide crescent at her chest. Aryn ducked and launched a roundhouse kick at the sword in his hand, sending it flying, then moved her own blade an inch away from the nomad’s nose. “Do you yield?” she asked coldly. “You’ve lost fair and square, even if you didn‘t start our match that way.”
Mensun shook his head wildly. “I will not lose to one who stole my life from me!” he roared. He snatched the very sharp blade away from his nose with a bare hand and punched Aryn straight in the face.
She staggered back, her eyes automatically tearing up as she berated herself. This man wanted to kill her- it wasn’t just a nice formal match! Cursing the loss of her ability to sense body heat, she took a quick second to wipe her eyes. Unfortunately, that was all Mensun needed to deliver a sharp jab to her arm muscle, causing her hand to drop her blade. Before Aryn knew what had happened, a meaty arm was around her throat while her left arm was forced back over her head in a classic sleeper hold.
Pressure began to be exerted on her throat as she was lifted off of her feet. Aryn’s eyes went wide as she realized he planned to break her neck this way. That's it, I'm done feeling sorry for you! You asked for it!
After bringing her knees up, Aryn then slammed both feet back, hitting low and hard. Her legs had been strengthened as thoroughly as her arms during millennia of training. Mensun whimpered as he crumpled and lost his grip on Aryn. His eyes teared up. Aryn rolled out of reach and grabbed her sword in one swift movement. Then she scrambled to her feet again, knocked the man on his back with the flat of her blade and held the tip against the very skin of his throat this time.
“Now do you yield?!” she snarled. “I can’t die here- I have work to do. If Bachlan manages to pull off his plan, I don't think anyone in your tribe will be left alive!”
There was no reply. With the match officially over, guards of the tribe came to help Mensun up and take him into custody and tend his wounds. Surprise and disbelief shone through her opponent's pain-glazed features as he stared at the victor.
"Why didn't you use that celestial whatsit that you picked up?" Trista hissed.
Aryn shook her head. "That wouldn't have been right. It was meant to be an even match, warrior to warrior."
Trista smirked. "How honorable was it to kick him in the-"
"Oh, shut up."
The tribe's Mother was just behind her bodyguards, walking with a speed and steadiness that belied her age. Owl's expression was of controlled anger, the kind that was far more terrifying than ranting and raving. "I shall tend your wounds, and we will make restitution for this breach of our laws," she remarked tightly.
"What about Mensun? I understand what he's going through, but you can't just-" Aryn began.
"You willingly forfeited your rights to his life. His other violation, that of Mother Owl's word, is under our law to punish," a nomad interrupted coolly.
"Revenge can blind a person's sense. Trust me, I've seen it-" Aryn tried.
"We have a lot more important things to worry about," Trista remarked crossly, putting her bow away. She had only a sniff of disdain for the foolish nomad man that had tried to take Aryn on. "Let them deal with it. Honestly, Aryn, the man tried to KILL you!"
Aryn hated to admit it, but she had a point. Time was not a luxury they had right now, and that crazed maniac with the power of all their essences was a human timebomb.
"We will provide you with steeds throughout our lands, as an apology for not keeping you safe under our hospitality laws. Once you have reached the Crystal Citadel, you are on your own. I realize it may sound harsh, but you Guardians are far better equipped to handle this than my people, and we must think on protecting our own. Nessa, will you accompany them to care for the horses and return them?" Owl asked.
Nessa's eyes sparkled. "Yes, of course, Mother Owl!"
Trista opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. Having one more child along couldn't make things any worse. Better still, she might keep Aryn occupied, leaving her to her own thoughts.
Aryn gave her a welcoming smile. She couldn't fault Owl for wanting to look after her own, and figured it would be better to not get any more people mixed up in this mess than was strictly necessary. "Thank you both. We should get some sleep before heading out. It's going to be a rough trip."
"You can both sleep in my family's tent, just to be on the safe side," Nessa offered eagerly. Aryn nodded her thanks.
Nessa raced back to her tent, her step much springier and more enthusiastic than before. Trista trooped along silently behind her. Aryn waited patiently as Owl's power flowed into her body for the second time that day, marveling at the woman's skill. She was almost as good as Solana or Oriana. "It is possible for the wind and the flames to join together into a force greater than either one alone, provided they are willing to overcome their weaknesses to each other," Owl commented.
Aryn twisted her arm experimentally. "That's a pretty tall order, you know, but I'll think on that. Thanks for your help so far, and I wanna talk with you more about Mensun after this mess is cleaned up." Owl said nothing either way, but merely returned to her meditation point for the night.
As Aryn curled up in an extra bedroll in Nessa's tent, she stared at the ceiling, not able to sleep quite yet. She and Solana had made a choice the night they had left- not only for themselves, but for their people as well. Sure, it sounded fine to go off and journey for answers in how to be a better Guardian, but there had been serious repercussions to leaving their world under Bachlan's dubious care all this time. She wondered what sort of repercussions Solana had been learning about, wherever she was.
Solana, we have a lot more to set right than just preventing this 'Great Rebirth' bull. We have to start from scratch in figuring a new way of doing things...