Betrayal: Book Three of Allies and Adversaries by Kevin Gordon

Cobblestones rose and fell of their own accord on the path; some moss covered and slick, lying in wait for the unsuspecting, unwary foot, others smooth and dry, level and pure, a sure reward for the careful traveler. Uonil had traveled the path hundreds of times in her youth before the Kal-Durrell called on her, taking her away to the cool metal and formed plastic of Rellcine. She walked this path slowly, carefully, not because she was afraid of falling astray, being felled by those errant stones, but because it calmed and soothed her, emptying her mind of thought, replacing the future with the here and now.

  Arciss was at her side, an unwelcome companion. She tried to slip away without anyone noticing, tried to null her mind and fade into the shadows but Arciss was a watchful one—it was said he could even sense the Kal-Alçon, and had, on many an occasion, much to Graid’s chagrin, when he was venturing out on one of his carnal journeys to Novan’s degenerate clubs. He could be a pest sometimes, asking too many questions, stating opinions with a weak voice, begging to be dismissed out of hand. He actually was a very intelligent man, whose ideas were worth listening to. Even as Uonil tried to slip out, he reminded her that it was no longer safe for her, as Mentra, to venture anywhere unaccompanied. And though she dearly wanted to walk this path and go back to her home, her real home for a little while alone, she had to agree.

  The one condition was silence. Silence of voice, silence of thought. Arciss seemed to whimper as she stated that—he rarely could keep his voice or his mind quiet for long. But it was agreed, and as they navigated the stone pathway, she almost felt alone.

  Around her towered a great mountain range—the Drugghid. In all directions their massive peaks rose into the sky, carpeted along their base with trees and brush that faded into stone and snow as the sky reached down with its clouds. In the valleys the clouds hung low—glistening wisps of vapor, lazily floating amidst the mammoth ranges. The path took her up a small hill, and she gazed below on the valley of her home sprawled beneath, unchanged since she was a child, unchanged for countless centuries.

  “Wow.”

  Uonil cringed at his word, but appreciated it. Arciss came from a large Rell city, and was unaccustomed to venturing into the countryside.

  “It’s alright. Actually, it is spectacular, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. This is where you grew up?”

  “For a short while,” she said, with a sigh. “An all too short a while.”

  They made their way down slowly, the grey, weather-worn cobblestones leading to large granite steps, overgrown with grass and wet with the morning’s dew. The carpet was alive with life—small furry creatures ran nearby, birds flew through the air, singing all the while, reveling in the crisp, cool air. The cobblestones picked up again at the base of the stairs, now surrounded by low bushes filled with tiny birds that scurried off as footsteps were heard, chirping as they took to the sky. Arciss constantly swatted at small bugs that cropped up if one stepped in the wrong place.

  Uonil debated to herself at warning Arciss—a part of her hoped it would discourage him, and send him back. Her kinder nature prevailed. “Don’t step in those dry patches. They fly up and don’t go away, at least, not until they’ve exacted some penance from you.”

  “I’m beginning to understand.”

  Averil, a small village of around two thousand, came into greater resolution as they neared the bottom of the stairs. Hundreds of low, dome-like structures filled the landscape. People walked back and forth along the small paths that connected the village, their chatter and laughter a welcome change from Novan’s cold silence. Even at this distance she could make out many people she knew, and memories came back swift and thick. She paused for a moment, taking in the sights.

  “You know, it’s strange being without Graid for this long,” said Arciss, in a hushed voice, as if Graid might overhear him. “I’ve gotten so used to hiding my thoughts; it’s good to be able to relax.”

  “He can be . . . a tyrant, sometimes.” She didn’t like thinking of the Kal-Alçon in those terms, but it was true. “I feel as if he could sense our thoughts, even this far away.”

  Arciss looked worried. “You think?”

  Uonil playfully pushed him. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  The cobblestones sputtered and ended abruptly after a few tils, the path turning to dust and gravel. Uonil looked down at the ending, like a cliff overlooking a barren desert. She remembered when those stones gleamed in the light, silver instead of the current dull grey, when she herself had to polish them with the other children. She didn’t even like to walk on them, anxious about soiling the waxy surface, and glared disapprovingly at the adults who casually traversed its length. But here it ended, her past pulled up for who knew what reason, the future bleak and uncertain.

  They made their way along the rocky path, taking them close to the river Eld. Grass grew tall and rough, and across the water tall elks could be seen foraging, proudly standing in the morning sun. In its depths could be seen the small, darting fishes unique to this section of Rell—tasty, but wily and fast. Their bodies shimmered like so many lost coins, bouncing along in the current. This was a narrow pass for the river; a daring soul could wade across it, if they were strong enough, the nimble foot grasping onto the many beds of bluish hruma roots that gathered under the water. The current rushed quickly, finishing its long journey from high in the Drugghid, emptying into the Ila-hin ocean some twenty tils away. Arciss knelt and passed his hand through that cool water, catching his reflection in its depths. He shimmered, fading for a moment, then reappeared, as the sun passed in and out of the clouds. The breeze from the mountains swept down upon them, bringing a quick chill to their skin, mist forming from their breath. Arciss stood and breathed deep, nourishing his lungs with snow-laced sweetness.

  “We are going to be here for many roas,” said Uonil, smiling at him. “You can always come back.”

  Arciss nodded. “Somehow, things are never as beautiful, as pure, than when you first experience them.”

  They quickened their pace as the temperature dipped suddenly. Uonil hadn’t even consulted weather forecasts before she left, so desperately did she not want anything to spoil her getaway. Into a thicket of brush and trees they descended, the path now shielded from the elements with a green canopy, massaging the sunlight upon their bodies. The trees arched over the path as a thousand leafy soldiers saluting a returning hero. In her youth, Uonil would see many of the couples walking this length, slipping into the verdant wall, laughter and merriment in their wake. Called the path of Ulis—named after a lover immortalized in legend—she always dreamed about what they found in those depths; some magic, or mystical spring that they bathed each other in. She left Averil when she was far too young to go there with someone, and yet it was a long while before she banished that dream to the recesses in her mind. Even now she walked quietly, listening for gentle laughter, absently hoping a young man would spring out and take her in his arms.

  The path soon widened into a great field, filled with all manner of plantings. Yellow fruit-bearing trees, low, flowering brushes with tiny, fragrant purple blooms, and tall, thin wispy strands of green, whose pollen danced on the wind, making Arciss sniffle as they passed. Benches were arranged in a circle, with seating for several hundred of the faithful. Uonil remembered this was the village derasar, where any important civic business was discussed, where, at night, they practiced their faith in the Castiliad, under the spectacle of the universe. A tall, grey tree stood in the center, and though its naked branches were bereft of leaves it was still proud, reaching up to the heavens. It was a Boolin tree, physical manifestation of what others would conjure in their minds, and Uonil had never seen one so frail and weak. The energy from Castiliad always fed it before, and she could only imagine they must not be using it now. The village sub-Alçons would usually be tending the derasar—rarely was there a moment when she was growing up that people didn’t sit here, linked in the Castiliad, arranging their thoughts on its graceful limbs.

  “This
is your derasar?” asked Arciss.

  “Yes. I don’t know where the sub-Alçons are.”

  “Would you look at that,” he said, amazed. Arciss walked around the tree in the center, tall and old, its trunk cut through with wrinkles deep and wide. “An actual Boolin tree! I heard many villages had some of these.” He reached out, running his hand along its surface. “This hasn’t been used in a long time.”

  Uonil came beside him, touching a tree she had only known as something powerful and vital. To feel its ashen texture made her sad in a way she didn’t think possible. “I know. It’s sad, really. Most people in the larger cities haven’t even seen one of these, and here, it is going to waste, dying.”

  “Faith has left this village,” he said somberly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can see the signs. Something has happened. The community has fractured, and they have lost their way. I think it is happening all over our world—I could feel a little of it in Piros. But as it was a larger city, it was easier to hide.”

  Uonil thought on some of the sub-Alçons who guided her first tentative steps in the Castiliad. They were gentle souls, of clear mind and spirit, always offering themselves to any who needed their guidance. A man named Tog came to mind, not one of the senior sub-Alçons, but one she connected with, one who helped her through some difficult cas.

  “I hope you’re wrong.”

  As they made their way through the benches the sky started to grey over, thick angry mountains of mist advancing on the valley. In the distance could be seen a grey fog, a shimmer, as some kind of storm fell nearby. The wind picked up, growing bitter and cold, shaking loose fallen leaves and hurtling them in all directions. Uonil drew close her thick cloak, wrapping her face in a white lace scarf she took along, just in case.

  While she cowered in the face of the cold, he stood straighter, and grinned at the spectacle. “Are we almost there?”

  Uonil looked over at him, who suddenly seemed taller, stronger than he had been before. His voice carried a confidence that she heard too infrequently before. She put her arm in his, and started off in a light trot.

  “Come on. Just a little further.”

  They jogged along the path that was born again on the other side of the field. Cobblestones appeared again also, this time gleaming and sure.

  At least some things haven’t changed.

  They rounded a corner of trees, and the village burst upon them. A few people could be seen on its roads, carrying bundles this way and that, but most were closing windows, fastening shutters. The houses were simple and low, built of stone and clay, meant to give shelter and cool in a hot summer, yet trap every parcel of heat in the long winter frost. Most were old and worn, blackened with the soot from fires over hundreds of cas, their shells time worn with cracks patched and re-patched over again. The smell of cooking food greeted their noses, along with chopped wood, cut grass, and a hundred other things foreign to the Novan world of steel and synthetics. Around them hung signs on stores, simple and plain, flowers blooming in front of houses, small creatures darting back and forth, as birds flew high overhead. It brought a small tear to Uonil’s eye, though it faded quickly in the cold.

  “Over here.”

  They ran into a nearby building, one of the taller ones in the village, three stories high, with several autocars parked nearby. Set on massive dark-red wooden pillars, it was a thick building, filled with carved wooden adornments over its windows, solid dark archways, great marble stairs that were framed with brass and iron rails. It spoke of permanence; of strength to endure any storm, anything nature would throw at it. In Uonil’s youth, several of its wooden sculptures in the front lawn were re-carved by local artisans, painstakingly re-creating every last detail. It was a tradition dating back thousands of cas. The building looked exactly as it did when first its doors were opened. It even caught Arciss’ attention, so beautiful was the facade, so ornate its accouterments. Outside its doors two great trees framed the entrance, small brilliant white flowers blooming along their branches. Many of the flowers littered the ground, making a gentle carpet for welcome visitors.

  “What is this place?” asked Arciss, taken aback by the scope of the structure.

  “We call it ‘Old Red.’ Actually, it is the home of all administrative offices of Averil. It’s also the unofficial community forum, barter hall, village inn, drinking hole. It is one and many things.”

  “Old Red. I like it.” He passed his hand along the railings as they ascended the marble steps, coming to doors twice the size of a man, left casually open as people passed in and out. “Reminds me of some of the early derasars in Piros.”

  “I think it was modeled on a couple in the old city,” said Uonil.

  Arciss paused, looking at the two trees which towered above. “These trees are beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” Arciss looked at her questioningly, as Uonil flashed him a smile. “I am named after them. They are called Ceyuonil trees. Come, let’s get warm, and get some food.”

  The interior was unlike the simple village surrounding it. Great frescoes stretched above them, painted on a ceiling arched and high, with several windows illuminating the space. Ornate golden lights lined the passageway, every bulb seated in a cradle of jewels, casting colors of great purity and brilliance on the walls. Uonil led Arciss to the left, and they found themselves in a great room, with a long bar on the left, and dozens of tables in front of them.

  The room was a bustle of people, shuffling around, talking, and exchanging items. The room was the center of Averil, where anything important happened concerning commerce or the community. Merchants, lovers, students, philosophers gathered there, talked and people-watched. This room was the first and last stop for anyone venturing to Averil, a place one could find almost whatever they were looking for. Some turned to watch Uonil and Arciss, but most carried on with their business. Uonil smiled at this sensation of being in a room where she was not the center of attention, where she did not have to carry herself as the ‘Mentra,’ where she was just another woman.

  “Uonil?”

  She turned knowing who the voice belonged to before her eyes confirmed it.

  “Solti?!”

  Uonil smiled, and laughed, embracing her old friend. Tall and thin, she had a wide smile that was always present, her teeth gleaming, her laughter never far behind. Uonil had known her those many cas ago, one of her few friends from childhood.

  “Uonil, it so good to see you again! How are you here?” Most on the planet knew of Uonil, and Graid, that they had a mission on Novan to accomplish that was ordained by the Kal-Durrell. They knew not of the details, but were aware of their existence.

  “I am here for a short rest,” she replied, as more of her relaxed, just looking at Solti. “But where are my manners? This is Arciss, a good friend of mine.”

  “Hello.”

  “Hello.” She looked him up and down, grinning at his choice of clothing, a combination very much in fashion, in places that cared for such things. “You’re not from a town like this, are you?”

  “No, I confess, I was raised in one of the larger cities.”

  “You’re going to need some warmer clothes.” Solti said like someone’s mother, shaking her head disapprovingly.

  “If someone had mentioned what the weather would be like,” rebuked Arciss, with a sideways glance at Uonil, “you wouldn’t have caught me so unprepared.” Uonil pushed him playfully.

  “I guess things must seem very simple here,” said Solti, clasping her hands behind her back, moving a little closer to Arciss. He grew concerned, not knowing where this path was leading.

  “A little.”

  Uonil took his hand. “You’ll have to forgive Arciss. We have been around people for very long that couch meanings behind meanings behind lies and half-truths. It has been a while that he has been around those who merely talk, to exchange information and good-will.”

  Solti laughed. “How long will you be here?”
>
  “For six roas, I suppose.”

  “Did you review a weather forecast before you left?” asked Solti.

  “No, why?”

  “Maybe you have forgotten. A circulle is approaching, and very fast. Don’t you remember?”

  Uonil thought back, to a storm of immense size, bringing snow that covered the entire village, so nothing could be seen, not even the tops of buildings.

  “Oh my, how could I have forgotten!” she cried. “And that’s what we saw coming?”

  “That is but the preface. The main storm is a roa away, and we may be up in the mountains for a dozen roa.”

  “You brought me all this way, for a snowstorm?” Arciss muttered. “I’m going to freeze . . .”

  Uonil remembered more of her childhood, the big storm, with all the inhabitants seeking shelter in caves in the mountains, building fires, singing songs. A primitive existence, but one that drew the whole community together.

  “We should head back, Uonil.”

  “Arciss, it’s too late for you two to go back. The road you came in on is gone, by now. You have no other option than to wait it out, with us.” Solti rubbed his back with her hand. “And don’t worry, I’ll find you some warm clothes. I won’t let you freeze.”

  Arciss was visibly upset, and the warm expression on Solti’s face also concerned him.

  “Oh relax, Arciss. They can do without us for a little longer.” Uonil glanced around the room. “I thought it was a little busier than I remember.” She soaked in the voices, and the faces. “I think it’s good we will be here longer than we first thought.”

  Solti bent down and whispered in Uonil’s ear. “Things have changed, though they might not look it. This is not the same town you left, fifteen cas ago. You will understand, soon enough. And you may wish you did not come.” She turned to Arciss. “But since you’re here, let me give this man a tour. He won’t be able to see our lovely town in a roa, and there is much to see.”

  “But shouldn’t we—”

  “No, Arciss. Go with her.” Uonil laughed at his awkwardness. “We are swept up in a situation of which we have no control. We may as well enjoy it.”

  Solti led Arciss out as Uonil sat at a nearby table. She was as an island in a sea of movement, with different shapes and smells swirling around her, speaking words she cared not to understand. She felt detachment, and as a singularity she only needed to care about her breath, her body, her mind. The air was thick with concern and indecision, and as she breathed it in, her defenses down, it worked into her metabolism, subtly changing what she thought was fixed.

  “You’re Uonil, aren’t you?”

  She looked up, and an older, grey haired man stared down at her.

  “Yes. Do I know you?”

  He sat in a chair next to her. “I’m Ulidric, a friend of your father’s. I used to visit your home a lot, back when you were a child.”

  “Ulidric, Ulidric . . .” She raced through the files in her mind. “Yes, I remember! You used to play that game . . . what was it?”

  “Plistin.” He laughed a little. “It’s been a long while since I played that.”

  “You used to play that with all the children.”

  “Look around, there aren’t that many children these roas, if any.”

  She did look around, and was surprised not to see them running underfoot, playing in the shadows. “How is my father?”

  Ulidric had a visible look of shock on his face. “You don’t know?”

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “What?”

  “He . . . he died, five cas ago.”

  Uonil felt as if she was punched, her head was spinning.

  “How?”

  “An accident. A rockfall, near one of the mines. He died quick, and peaceful. How is it you didn’t know?”

  She wished she could tell Ulidric about all the work she had to do, all the training, all the reviews. She wished she could tell about Graid, and how he occupied her every spare moment, so important was he to the future of the Rell people.

  “I . . . have been occupied. And out of contact for a long time.”

  Ulidric put a friendly hand on her arm. “I’m sorry I was the one to tell you.”

  “No, it’s alright. It was naive of me to think everything would be the same, unchanged after fifteen cas. I guess not even Rell can withstand the effects of time.”

  “I guess you saw the path on the way in,” he said, a sorrow creeping over his face.

  “Yes. What happened? And to the tree?”

  “Well, that’s more bad news that I’d rather not share with you right now. Your mother is alive, and still in the same house, I believe. You should be talking to her.”

  “I suppose,” she said, the dread welling in her soul.

  “Why didn’t you go there first?”

  Uonil looked down at the table, thoughts churning in her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to take things slowly, coming back.”

  She looked around at the people talking, bartering—her people. She had been away from them for quite a while, surrounded only with those trained to be on Novan, focused on the same objective. These people were simpler; only focused on food for the roa, conversation to pass the time. No one here cared about meta, or Iganinagi.

  “You look hungry,” pronounced Ulidric. “Let me get you some food and drink.”

  He walked away, a slight limp skewing his sturdy frame. She looked at his pants, dirty from work in the soil and grass, clumps still caught in the folds of the cuffs around his ankles. They fell off, mingling with the foot-treaded soil on the floor. On Novan, micro-meta would have cleaned the first drop of dirt, the floors always immaculate.

  Uonil settled back, her body letting go its hold over itself, letting flesh and muscle sag. For a few moments she just existed, hearing her own breath, feeling her own heartbeat thump softly within her chest. Her eyes grew lazy watching men and women shuffle back and forth, their motions lulling her mind into a sleepy calm. There was no threat of death waiting around a corner, no advisors to deal with, no agents to train, and no Graid to be fearful of.

  It’s the fear that has finally left me.

  She always dealt with Graid with a great degree of strength and composure, but he never realized how much she actually feared him until that moment.

  He is like death incarnate, random and final. He could kill me on a whim, and I don’t think he would truly miss me. She thought on his actions in front of Selva, how only her words seemed to spare her. I play a delicate game, acting the part of authority, but knowing there is no one above him save the Kal-Durrell. And when I mention them to him, I no longer see fear in his eyes.

  She forced herself to banish the memory of Graid to her deep sub-conscious. She ran her hand along the tabletop, feeling the worn grains etched deep into its rich maple surface, stained with decades of drink and food.

  “You look comfortable,” said Ulidric as he returned with a heaping plate of food and two tankards of a frothy liquid.

  “I am.” She smiled, and then sat up, helping relieve him of his burden. “Mmm . . . How did you know I wanted this?”

  “I remember you. One doesn’t forget the little girl that went off to be the Mentra.”

  Uonil nodded her head, thinking back on her last roas in the village, a bittersweet time of tears and sighs.

  “I didn’t want to leave.”

  “But you knew you had to. Come now. Enough of the past—eat!”

  She dug into her food, the first swallow bringing back an intense hunger. They ate in silence for a few mroas, until Uonil was comfortable again.

  “Tell me about yourself. How have you fared these many cas?”

  “Oh, passably well,” replied Ulidric as he sat back in his chair. “My fields still yield beautiful fruits and hardy roots. I never overwork them, just enough to fill the quota, then that’s enough. Others ran through their soil cas ago. A lot more people have come to depend on me.”

  “A lot of pe
ople always depended on you,” added Uonil, taking a long drink from the tankard. “You watched me, many times when I was young. How many children grew up hearing your stories, singing your songs?”

  Ulidric let out a long sigh, as the memories came flooding back. “Yes, though most have forgotten those times. We walk among each other as strangers, keeping to ourselves, hiding our pain. I miss the laughter of children—their eager eyes, and inquisitive faces. I miss watching them grow, from being barely able to walk, to outrunning their mothers futilely trying to chase them down. I miss hearing of a girl’s first kiss, or a boy’s first time holding a girl’s hand. I keep those things precious to me, Uonil, and roll them over in my mind, a lot more lately. I have always regretted not having a son, or daughter, regretted not taking the time to find a woman for me.”

  “It’s not too late.”

  “You just don’t know,” he said, sadly shaking his head. “This village is but a clearer representation of the whole planet. Faith may still exist, but hope is dying, almost buried. So many believe our roas are numbered, that when the Cuhli-pra ascends, Rell will die. All of us. We will fade into the sunset, a forgotten people. That’s why there are no children, why few engage in Castiliad, why our Boolin tree sits grey and barren. And why should we have children? Why should we bring another life into this world, if it will die in the morning? Better that we fade out gracefully, with dignity and honor. For a time, people rebelled, after hearing of Martel’s death. A few from this village even went to the riots, protested our pacifist posture. But as it became clear that none would listen, and nothing would change, they returned, their anger turning to a frustrated indifference that murders one’s soul. ”

  Uonil felt the weight crawl back on her shoulders, felt the tension wind her muscles up.

  “Is that how everyone feels?” she asked, quietly.

  “Most won’t be as direct as I have been. But yes, look around. Look in their eyes, in their motions. Do you remember when a circulle came when you were younger? People would plan for several dcas, taking many of their possessions up, making it a great excursion for their families. There would be singing, dancing, chants around the fire. Now, fewer than half this village will go up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ulidric looked at her with hard eyes. “Fewer than half this village will be alive when the storm passes. It started a few cas a go. A couple of people would stay, despite many protests and pleadings from the others. Then, with each passing cas, the number grew, and the pleadings grew to whimpers. We are a people resigned to death, committed to surrender and defeat.”

  She thumped her hand on the table. “That is not the people I knew! That does not describe the people I work with.”

  “Doesn’t it, Uonil? Every sun must set, every age come to an end. We kept focused on our faith, on our hope, for long after the Novans resigned themselves to their oblivion. It is only now, as the hammer begins to fall, that we kneel, waiting for the blow.”

  Uonil wanted to say so many things at once, tell him he was wrong, that there was great hope, that so many people were committed to the preservation of the Rell people. But he only told her truth; she could now see it in the eyes of those around her, read it in her movements. She was so focused on rest and relaxation that she ignored all the signs of it. She sat back, and acceptance of his truth shifted and guided her thoughts.

  “You still have great hope; I can see it in your eyes. As well you should.” He sopped up the last gravy off his plate, took a last gulp from his tankard. Uonil looked at her plate, half the food she so welcomed still sitting there, growing cold. She pushed it a little forward, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “The people who work here would be offended if you left so much,” he said, pushing it back towards her. “Besides, you’ll need the nourishment, for your body, and soul. There is much work to be done, moving our people up to the caves. You were going to help us, right?”

  Uonil felt purpose fill her breath once again, an achievable destination. “Of course.”

  “Then eat, visit your mother, and get that man with you to help over at the granary.”

  She did finish her plate, relishing once again the tastes of home, the food she grew up with, in a place, though not perfect, that gave her great comfort. As she made her way out of Old Red and down a path that took her to her home, thoughts of the past welled inside her.

  “Uonil, you are something special.”

  “But I don’t want to go!”

  “You need to go with them. The Kal-Durrell ask that you serve your people, use your gift to help them.”

  “They don’t ask, they command, mother! Why would they take me away from you, from my friends?”

  “Uonil, you know those are not balanced thoughts. Think on the purpose, and intent, and let the logic calm your emotions.”

  Two sub-Alçons had smiled down at her, gesturing her to a waiting hovercar. She had thought, for a moment, on the friends she was just making, the paths around the village she was just exploring, her desire to be in love with a boy.

  “I want to stay!”

  “You can’t, Uonil. You are something too special, too precious. Your gifts must be—”

  “I am not a thing!”

  She had looked at her mother with eyes of hate, seeing in her past all those advanced classes, all those tests, all that encouragement to learn more, study harder, spend less time with her friends, now as a conspiracy to get rid of her.

  “I hate you.”

  She had regretted the words as soon as they were uttered, they hit her mother like a brick across the face.

  “You don’t mean that. I love you, and so does your father. We will miss you terribly. She had struggled hard to keep back the tears, but Uonil could see a few escape, running down the soft curve of cheeks that had pressed against hers, a face that had kissed her brow when she was sick. “I love you.”

  Uonil thought now on those words, softly whispered from a face worn with agony and pain, betraying the hurt at losing her only daughter. With each step her apprehension grew, as she walked down the tree-lined street leading to her old house. She had communicated with her mother infrequently; the last time she sent word was seven cas ago.

  I could blame Novan, or Graid, that they absorbed all my time, forcing me to neglect her. But that would be wrong. It was my fault.

  She stopped in front of her door, barely remembered, portal to a world she would rather forget. She stepped forward, and opened the door. Her eyes couldn’t believe the extent to which her home had changed. The furniture was different, the pictures on the wall were different, even the color of the walls was different. She stepped in, and looked down, and where once there were wooden planks, shined and polished over decades, now lay large squares of marble.

  “Hello Uonil.”

  In an archway stood her mother, Ellae. Still thin, with short-cropped hair now overrun with grey, Ellae had a fire in her eyes brighter than she remembered, starkly different from those in the village.

  “Hello mother.”

  “I wondered when you’d get around to seeing me again. Making the last rounds, as it were?”

  Uonil scanned her mother, looking for signs of that fatal frustration Ulidric described. “You don’t believe were doomed, like the others, do you?”

  Ellae walked in the room, bidding her daughter to come in, sit, and close the door. They sat opposite one another in chairs too rigid for Uonil’s liking.

  “Well, with you in charge, I have a little hope,” Ellae said absently.

  “Thank you.”

  She looked Uonil up and down, looking at her hair, her cheeks, her arms and legs. “You’ve gotten fat.”

  “And you’ve gotten blunt, mother.”

  “When your daughter leaves, and your husband dies, things change.”

  Uonil clenched her hands together, and leaned forward. “I didn’t leave, I was taken.”

  “Mmm.” Ellae gritted her teeth, like the sharpening of two knives. “W
hat brought you back here?”

  “I don’t know.” She really didn’t know. In all the other timelines, she never ventured back home. She never even thought of her mother. But with the death of Martel, something had been festering inside her. She needed a connection, a bond, something reaffirmed, that she could hold onto in the struggle ahead. She knew how desperate she was for that bond, thinking that she now sat in front of her mother, who would surely lace her words with venom and pain.

  She let out a tired sigh, and decided on the truth. “Mother, I need you.”

  “Why now?”

  “Things have grown difficult.”

  “Where were you when things got difficult for me?” demanded Ellae, hammering her words.

  “You never asked for me.”

  “Would you have come if I asked? Left your immense responsibility, to help your poor mother?”

  “How dare you act bitter at my responsibility!” yelled Uonil, gesturing with her hands. “I never wanted to leave, never! If I had to do it all over again, I still would have begged, and pleaded to stay!”

  Ellae looked down, her limbs sagging. “I know.”

  Uonil looked on her, beaten and weak, and felt disgust with herself. “I’m sorry.”

  Ellae brightened a little, a stood quickly, smoothing her clothes. Uonil smiled, remembering where she got the habit.

  “Are you going to help us move? How long are you here for?”

  “Yes, we are here until the circulle passes. I brought one of my trusted advisors, Arciss.”

  “Well, I still have some reinforcing to do throughout the house. The village could always use help moving the last of the stores from the granary. Your room is still upstairs, if you’d like to rest for a bit.”

  She was shocked at the image of her old room, still intact, unchanged. “My room?”

  “Yes. It’s the one thing I didn’t change about this old house.” Ellae stood, and went through an archway, busing herself with sealing windows and doors.

  My room?

  Uonil got up, and was about to go upstairs, when there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in.”

  It was Arciss and Solti. Uonil saw Solti’s arm holding Arciss’, and read the feeling of awkwardness in Arciss’ face. Despite her mood, she couldn’t resist a smile.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Yes, I enjoyed Solti’s company immensely.” He looked around the house, brightly lit with the late-morning sun, every object twinkling as if just polished and cleaned. “You have a very beautiful home, Uonil. Thank you, Solti, for showing me around. Uonil, do you know how we can help?”

  “Not yet.” Uonil actually had little desire to help at the granary; after all, she came here for rest, not back-breaking toil.

  Solti came close to Uonil, her face growing serious. “You know, you could always try to convince those who would stay behind, to come with us. Maybe a fresh voice, a different perspective, would help in many cases.”

  “What do you think, Arciss?”

  He nodded in assent. “I’d love to.”

  Solti mentally downloaded their names and addresses to Arciss and Uonil.

  “Tonight we will have a last meeting, in Old Red, where we will put her to bed for the circulle,” said Solti. “I will see both of you there?”

  “Of course.”

  The village sprawled lazily in the valley between the Drugghid—an orderly network of small streets with two large roads, homes spread out greedily with ample land in between. Uonil got a small motorized wheel vehicle, noisy and slow, but quicker than walking, considering all the homes they needed to visit. They didn’t really need the addresses of those people, as their homes were easy to spot. Some homes were shut tight, boards behind windows, insulating foam peeking through doorways. Others were open for all to see within, their owners lazily camped outside, or meandering within. Some of the villagers waved as Uonil passed by, whole others scowled at her and Arciss.

  “I think this will be more difficult than we expected.” She pulled her scarf over her face as she spoke—she had forgotten how cold it could get in Averil.

  “Possibly. Here is the first. Tog Vexcit.”

  “Is it really?” commented Uonil. “Tog is one of the potential suicides?”

  Arciss pulled the motorized contraption to a rough stop, thumping against a patch of stones. Sorry about that!” He cringed as she groaned getting out of the small seat. “You said he was a sub-Alçon?”

  “Yes, he was.” She thought back to her childhood, and one of the few compassionate faces from those cas. Tog had his faith, but he also had a soumanity few others possessed. She had her first crush on him, made up any excuse to visit him, to listen to him speak of the Kal-Durrell, of the heathen Novans, of the great deeds that the Rell of the past had done. After she collected herself, she stroke briskly up the small path, almost running into his house.

  His house was open to the world, cold and windy, with two levels. Already the wind had not too gently begun remodeling the interior, tearing down pictures, knocking over glass and ceramic objects, the floor now littered with shards laced with paper and memories. A voice boomed from the upper level as they made their way through the debris.

  “Who is it?!”

  “We were sent by the village to see if you would leave,” yelled Uonil, “if you would come up into the caves with your neighbors and friends.”

  The voice snickered. “Now when did anyone start caring again? You must be a damned stranger to our ways.”

  A man clambered down the stairs, not too old, still of healthy body and youthful eyes. His back was broad and thick with muscle from working in the mines. His hands and hair were covered with white dust.

  “I’ve been trying to fix my shed in back. Damn wind’s gettin’ pretty strong.” He looked closer at Uonil. “Don’t I know you?”

  Uonil went to him, aching to hug him, but restrained herself. “I am Uonil. I lived here as a child, with my mother and father. Don’t you remember me?”

  Tog scrutinized her, a sour expression on his face. To Uonil, he looked several cas older than he should have been, as if the life was sucked out of his face, the fire extinguished in his eyes. His every word seemed to be filled with gravel, sounding as if he was making a supreme effort to condescend to speaking with them.

  “Yeah, yeah. Your dad died.”

  Arciss shook his head at his bluntness.

  “I have heard,” said Uonil, ignoring his manner. “Why won’t you leave?”

  “It’s my choice. One of the few choices I have left.”

  She couldn’t restrain herself, and pounced on him. “What happened that you made this choice?! You were, or are, a sub-Alçon! How could you, of all people, lose hope?”

  “Does it matter? Will telling you my story give you some great insight into my pain, that somehow you will make better again? I think not—we’re all adults here. If you must know, my parents are gone, my children are gone. I am alone in this world; a world without a future. I choose to die here, in my home, in a manner that befits me.”

  “As a failure?”

  Tog harrumphed, and crossed his arms. “Who are you to judge me?”

  “She is the Mentra,” said Arciss firmly, stepping forward.

  “Mentra?” asked Tog, chuckling a little. “Ah yes. I heard you became one of them. Well titles mean little in the face of death, little girl. I don’t know why you’re here, in this little village. Maybe you’re setting things right before everything passes, making peace with relics of your glorious past. Well, I’ve made my peace and I’m ready to leave.”

  “Tog, I tell you there is still great hope for our people.” It hurt Uonil to hear him speaking like this. She wanted to grab him, shake his mind, take him back to the man he once was. “We have the Kal-Alçon, who is determined to protect our people, in the face of the Novan heathen. Nothing will harm our precious world.”

  Tog began to thump around the small living room, shoving this or th
at, trying to ignore her. “It’s all just words to me, little girl. Go back to your city, to the safety of people who tell you things you want to hear. Go back to the illusion of power and strength, the facade of immortality. We are a doomed people.”

  “Tog, don’t you remember the times when I was young?” beseeched Uonil, grabbing a hold of his arm. “When you spoke to me about faith, about the greatness of the Rell, about the enduring nature of our faith? Look at me, Tog. Look at my face! Where has that compassion gone, where has your strength?”

  Tog did look at her, sideways, as if he was still holding the memory of her at arm’s length.

  “People change, Uonil. People die, like your dad,” he said, pulling his arm free. “I’m sorry if you came back expecting someone else, expecting that person you loved as a child, but he died a long time ago. And he is never coming back.”

  Uonil pressed on, undaunted. “What of your faith?”

  He let out a loud laugh. “Faith? Faith?! That is all there has been on this world. Look around you, child. We have nothing else to do other than work, sleep, eat, and pray. There is little to distract our minds other than thoughts of the Kal-Durrell and the many aspects of the universe. Uonil,” he paused, the frustration finally coming out of him, “have you forgotten what life was like here? To wake, and thank the Kal-Durrell. To walk down the street, greet your neighbor, and bless him with the spirit of the Kal-Durrell. To sit with one’s friends, talk briefly of work, and people, but immediately speak of the teachings in the Ment-al-Ellin. Do saying the words over and over again reinforce one’s faith? No. They make it as rote, giving the illusion of wisdom. This village has fallen, all the while quoting words form the Ment-al-Ellin. Faith . . . what a funny word. I’ve forgotten what it truly means.”

  Arciss had enough of his blasphemy, and came close to him, something snapping inside. “Tog!” His voice resonated with authority, and even Uonil was shocked into silence.

  Tog though, still had fire in his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I am a friend of Mentra Uonil. You say titles mean nothing in the face of death? Well experience means plenty. Have you spoken with the Kal-Durrell?”

  “No . . . of course not.”

  “She has. The faces of the living universe have spoken to her. Why do you think they would have spoken to her?”

  “I . . . don’t know,” sputtered Tog, stumbling over his words, a little irritated at the force Arciss was showing.

  “They spoke to her because they believe in her. They could have chosen any number of the millions of planets that surely exist in the cosmos to come to, but they came to ours. They have sacrificed almost ten thousand cas to be with us, to give us tangible symbols of hope.”

  “Tangible symbols of hope?” countered Tog. “Rell will be destroyed, and they will merely journey back from whence they came. They know not of death like we do. They don’t know fear, or despair. They are immortal!”

  “How dare you lose your faith, when our people need it most!” yelled Arciss, becoming emboldened. “Does the sapling wither and die at night, because it doubts the rise of the sun? Does the baby cub run off a cliff, because its parents have left it to fend for itself? You lose faith because you do not know the future. You want someone to tell you what your future will be. Would you rather we create a kind of TELREC, to steward our race? Imprison us behind platitudes of well-being and self-sacrifice? You have not known adversity for far too long. You have not had to fight a battle that seemed to be lost, only to prevail! I could recite passage after passage from each of the Kal-Durrell, to tell you where you have strayed. But all that matters not. For it is not faith in the Kal-Durrell you have lost, it is faith in yourself. Faith in yourself to stand tall against perdition’s fires, to stand alone against the multitudes bent on your destruction. You are never alone, Tog.”

  Arciss reached out with his mind, entering into Castiliad, forming a small Boolin.

  ^And you are right,^ cast Arciss. ^Words alone do not constitute faith. I believed mere words were the key, but how they pale in the light of life! The beast of prey does not turn aside with words of the devout, its teeth do not dull at the motion of hands forming symbols, or kneeling in prayer. Death will come, but it is how one faces death that is important, what strength they have to draw on to defend themselves against the beast of the void. Actions are our salvation, but those actions must be grounded in principle for the truly devout to triumph!^

  ^Feel the interconnectedness of our lives. Feel the limbs of faith that only need to be recognized to begin to support yourself once again! Feel how your people, your community, needs you, needs everyone, to brave a future uncertain and fraught with danger. How can you turn your back on them?^

  Tog reluctantly joined with Arciss, his mind feeling the strength of the Castiliad. For a while they built the Boolin in their minds, an assemblage of experiences Tog had over the cas, its relation to the planet as a whole, to others in the community. Tog could feel the ripple of his decisions extend outward, merging and distorting with the ripples of his people. In the Boolin, he saw truth, saw what had eluded him for far too long.

  Finally, the walls of frustration and misery were broken within him, spilling forth joy, love, and most of all, hope into his old heart. “Thank you!” He cried with joy, and reached out and grabbed him with both arms, sobbing into Arciss’ chest. Arciss embraced him just as tightly, acting as an anchor for this man’s soul.

  “There is much work to be done—will you join us?”

  Tog stumbled back, looking as a man reborn, the cas falling from his face.

  “There are so many things to secure in my house, so many possessions to bring,” he said, his gaze flashing to and fro, as if he had just woken from a long sleep.

  “All the community needs is you. You know that everything else is immaterial.”

  A confident smile graced Tog’s lips once again, and Uonil could finally see the man she once knew. “Yes, Arciss. I stand with you, with my people, now and forever, may the Kal-Durrell guide me!”

  “And me also. Come with us, to others who felt as you did, help us to build this village’s strength, once again. Keep this Boolin with me, as we go, so they may feel its beauty and truth.”

  “I am yours.” Tog looked again at Uonil, letting the memory of her fill his heart, reliving those times of great joy and happiness, the feeling coming back into his limbs and into his heart. “I have missed you, Uonil.”

  Uonil could hold back the tears no longer. “And I you, Tog.”

  They embraced, Tog lifting her high in the air to her squeals of delight. He spun her around, her dress flowing in the air. Still a strong man, after all those cas, he barely lost his breath.

  “Tog, you know you can’t be doing that. I . . .”

  “I know you’re a Mentra now. A little undignified?”

  She looked up at him, seeing that same man who looked over her as a child, seeing the compassion bloom in his face once again.

  “No. You can do that anytime, with me.”

  They stood for a while, and Arciss felt very uncomfortable, which he always did.

  “Now enough of this sentiment,” said Tog, with a man’s strength in his voice. “We have work to do!”

  “Yes, we do. Let’s reach some of those who thought they were beyond reach, and give them reason to live again.”

  They spent the next several droas going house to house, having similar discussions, hearing of all the loss these people had suffered, and how they had not allowed themselves to rebuild, to regenerate. But they all fell against the power of the Castiliad, against the strength of so many hearts and minds bent to one purpose. Arciss felt something within him rising and assuming command, a strength and confidence he always knew he had, but had been afraid to express. The more his words and thoughts influenced others, the more he felt grounded, and stable, and confident. He didn’t need to couch his words in written scripture; he knew what to say simply by observing one’s face and actions. He discovered
he could tell so much about a person, simply by opening his senses to them, listening, touching, smelling, seeing everything a person had to offer. The Boolin he shared with the others acted as a brace for him, the energy within it fortified his spirit and self, as he fortified those traveling with him. Uonil traveled quietly with him, keeping her words and thoughts to herself, seeing the change that was occurring within him. She was overjoyed to see the effect it was having on her people.

  Arciss led them all at the end of the roa to rest under the Ceyuonil trees in front of Old Red. The trees were feeling the effects of the impending storm, their tenaciously strong branches now barely holding onto a few last resilient flowers. The massive old building was shuttered tight, its windows invisible behind the thick wood panels, its doors sealed with a foam that peeked out some of the cracks. She stood there like a guardian of the past, a past kept locked within its walls, safe against the passage of time. The rest of the inhabitants of Averil were summoned, and Arciss cast to them all.

  ^Nest my thoughts, people of Averil; too long has gone by while you all have stayed silent and closed to one another, grown distant from one another. Here are those who, for a time, lost all their faith. They now stand with me as a beacon of strength and joy. Come join us, at your derasar, in front of a Boolin tree withered and dying, so we might unite as Rell brothers and sisters, so your faith may regenerate what was almost lost!^

  They walked slowly, picking up a few stragglers as they went, braving the increasing cold, the snow beginning to settle on the ground. When they finally arrived at the derasar, everyone from the village was with Arciss, standing in a giant circle around the Boolin tree. The tree started to come alive, as the Boolin in their minds took shape on it, its branches glowing with light. It stretched high into the sky, its warmth radiating like a small sun, casting the snow away. They spent droas building it, reconnecting bridges with each other, finding new strength within themselves. The snow lay down thick around them, but within them was only warmth and joy.

  As the inhabitants finally moved slowly out of the village, along the long, winding path leading to the caves, Arciss took some time and walked with Uonil down the path of Ulis, her hand in his.

  “You were magnificent.”

  Suddenly a bit of the old, sensitive Arciss came back, as he demurred at her words. “Was I? I think not. I merely gave them a spark, and they built the fire, one that will keep them warm the rest of their lives.”

  “You truly are a man of faith,” she said, with a newfound respect in her voice. “A man of Rell. The Kal-Durrell would be proud, and I’m sure, even Graid.”

  Uonil gazed up into his eyes, gentle and strong, almost concentrated jewels of the sky above. For a moment, thoughts of Rellcine crept back in her mind. But the feeling of cold, wet snow sneaking into her shoes, the brilliant sunlight warming her face while her hands were growing cold, the beautiful stillness of the landscape, brought her back.

  They moved slowly, and with each step, Uonil left a little of her power, of her authority, behind her. All her life, she had been in command over people. Even as a child, her immense intelligence made her family, her friends, cater somewhat to her needs, for they knew she was special, and destined for greatness. Not until Graid was mature did anyone diminish her stature. But here, she gave it up willingly, wanting to be just another woman, being escorted by a man.

  “Have you made some peace with your past, Uonil?”

  “Yes.” She clung to his arm even tighter, and pulled her scarf up over her lips. “I have always felt it difficult to interact with people who had a past, who had a family. I always felt jealous, and bitter, feeling emptiness in my soul. Now I know that is why I was chosen, when I was. The Kal-Durrell knew Graid would need someone to identify with, someone who also didn’t really have a family. I feel his pain, sometimes, Arciss. He wasn’t given the same compassion we all were given.”

  “But he is coming around; I see it in his eyes. As we find out more about ourselves, and deal with him from that strength, he will understand his place among us.”

  She looked down that tree lined path, now white and shimmering, as she got closer to Arciss, to share in his warmth. “You know, I always wanted to come back here, to see if I would have a chance at love. To have a man gather me in his arms, and run with me, through these trees. Martel filled most of that void, though he was not a lover, he was a best friend, and someone I could even rest behind, so mighty a warrior he was. I feared for my future after the Kal-Durrell appointed you, Arciss. I didn’t stop to understand their motives. Now I do. I couldn’t be happier walking down this path than I am now with you. You have brought warmth back to my heart, and hope back to my soul.”

  They turned and looked at each other, deep into each other’s eyes. He brushed some snow off her hair.

  “You still have a chance, Uonil. Don’t give up on yourself. We need to spend the next several roas with your village, and there is still much work, much healing to be done. You have felt who might be good for you; I could sense it in the Castiliad. But I thank you for your words, my Mentra, my Uonil. Never have I felt closer to someone, than I do now.”

  He leaned down, and kissed her, ever so gently, as the snow gathered around them.

  The trek up to the caves was a long one. Wagons were loaded with the last possessions of those who only recently agreed to come. The snow had already accrued with interest, overflowing off the roads, making travel difficult and strenuous. The streets in town had been cleared and salted, but as they began the winding road through the thicket of trees leading to the base of Callsent—the nearest mountain—it swelled up above their knees.

  The path wove back along the river Eld, almost completely frozen over with the settling cold. Larger animals still loped nearby, taking a last drink of water before they found caves and warm places of their own. The trees arched above them, planted long ago to shield against the snow, and they did. They path grew easier, as only a few inches made it through the defense. Up above a white ceiling replaced the sky, and though the path grew dark, no torches were lit, as the overhanging snow would fall and bury them.

  Most of the travelers were still connected with one another through small Boolins. Memories of journeys past traded between them; times when children still laughed and ran among them, and how precious a cargo they were. Lovers would walk in a soulful embrace, laughing and kissing as they went, oblivious to the cold or hardship of distance. Many of those couples were still alive, still with each other, and they embraced again, in love born anew.

  Uonil looked on them as she nestled close to Arciss. Arciss had offered to carry her on his back, as she was quite small, but the Mentra within her declined. She, after all, enjoyed the smell of Arciss’ cloak, feeling him hum songs as they walked, listening to them in her mind. She thought on all the times she wanted to build a real connection with someone, but could never let her guard down in Rellcine, never appear weak in front of other Alçons. How she could have sacrificed her happiness like that she couldn’t understand now. Though to an observer she may have looked vulnerable, and weak, she never felt stronger, never felt surer of herself.

  The cover from the trees finally gave out, and once again the travelers found themselves knee deep in snow, being buffeted by thick waves of fresh recruits. They were now at the foot of the mountain, and began their long climb up to the caves, located in a wide belt midway up its height. Along the way, many people approached Arciss, and thanked him for convincing them to come along. He had become their leader, though he uttered few words. He could feel the attention, and responsibility, yet felt no anxiety or fear about interacting with them. He fed off their love and strength, feeling finally this was a place, and time, where he could be of use, where he could help those who could not help themselves.

  All throughout his life, Arciss felt his sexuality prevented him from taking such a leadership role. Though he knew the teachings of all the Kal-Durrell, in great detail, he never asked to address large
groups, never asked to lead others in a Castiliad. He felt the need to amass more and more information, to learn more and more details, to prepare himself for an eventuality that never came.

  My life was all potential, never actual. Even my work with the Alçons, or Martel and Uonil before, was all strategizing, analyzing, never committing to a bold decision. I always hid, afraid of the scrutiny, afraid of disapproval or censure. He realized, for the first time, that it wasn’t his sexuality that impeded him. I never have been thoroughly confident in myself. Always falling back on another’s words, another’s teachings. The Kal-Durrell have been a safe shield, for none could question their words. But to stand alone, on one’s own feet, and speak words new and unique, has always been impossible for me. But here . . . He stopped, and scanned the mountains, the snow beneath them, the purity of the landscape, uncluttered with double meanings or hidden traps. Here I know who I am, and what I am capable of. How could I have gone so long, never to understand where I belong?

  Uonil squeezed his hand. ^I can sense your thoughts.^

  ^I’m sorry.^

  ^Don’t be. Many people go there whole lives without realizing where they belong, what their gift is to those around them. Purpose was thrust on me; Graid was born with a predefined purpose. But you and most everyone else must find it, and that requires a strength of character that I admire.^

  ^What will I be when I leave here?^ pondered Arciss, glancing down at Uonil’s face.

  ^You will be who you have always been, except you will have wisdom and purpose. What you feel, and see now, will become a part of you, a foundation upon which all your essence shall thrive.^

  They walked for a while in silence, as Arciss reflected on her words.

  ^When did you get so wise?^

  ^There are as many facets of wisdom as there are faces of the universe,^ cast Uonil. ^Sometimes, one sees through with the right eyes, and understands, but even then it is but a fragment of a greater whole.^

  As they all gathered on the path, beginning their long ascent, the wind howled, biting at their faces with pellets of snow, sharp and bitter. There was a short gasp by many of the travelers, a step back for others. Arciss spoke aloud and cast to them all.

  “^The mountain wishes to greet us, lost friends from long ago. Let us greet him in song.^”

  “With sure short steps along a twisty bent path

  we walk, never alone

  with short quick breaths in a place all unknown

  we walk, never alone

  oh dance in your soul to the music within

  oh breathe in your heart from the joy deep within

  we walk, never alone, we walk, never alone.”

  “Inside us blooms the shapes of our lives

  beautiful and seen without lying eyes

  inside we find great bonds of love

  wonderful and clean it’s more than enough.”

  Their voices joined his, resounding through the valley, seeming to make the snow itself fall slower, even hover in the air above them. Strength returned to their steps, some even bounded over great snow drifts that had begun to form. They tackled the steep, winding path as a challenge instead of as a defeat. Uonil loved to look up and see Arciss’ face beaming with joy, singing with the people, lifting their spirits with a kind glance or thought.

  This is what I wish Graid could be like. But so much has corrupted him.

  ^Don’t dwell on the past,^ cast Arciss. ^Think only on the future, and only think on that with great hope.^

  The snow built in intensity, swirling around them, blinding their eyes as the sun shone hard through the clouds. Then in a moment, it all fell away, and the openings to the caves could be seen by the few who had climbed the highest. They shouted back at the others, and soon, great cheers went up all around. Those who were already in the caves came out, waving their hands, cheering them on. As Arciss stood with Uonil at the opening to one of them, looking down at the storm, with a few specks of the village showing through, they both dwelled on the deceptive simplicity of this existence. They knew in their world, on Rellcine, every moment was filled with duty, with tasks and assignments, reports and consultations. But here, one truly must deal with one’s own soul. Solitude was an adversary of great cunning and guile, a patient predator that could murder one’s soul without warning, suddenly.

  The caves ringed the great mountain where a waistline would be on a giant, high above the snow topped tree line, but still far away from the cold, airless peak. They were carved almost fourteen thousand cas ago, a relic from a world exterminated by the Three Hundred. But the Rell of Averil appreciated them, and integrated them into their existence. They served as shelter from the Circulle, and no matter how much technology advanced, no matt-trans whisked the people of this village to sunnier climes. No matter how much they perfected a weather control system, they still migrated to the caves every cas. For them, the migration to the caves fulfilled part of their spiritual cycle, a retreat done every cas to build friendships, deepen romances, spend time with children and search one’s soul for guidance for the future. Food was stored deep in the caverns, packed in ice soon after the first snowfall of the season. A few guards kept watch afterwards, guiding away animals who knew of their habits and sought to capitalize on the easy meal. Electricity was never run into those caves, and even now, a few assigned people started fires near the entrances, as wet clothes were shed and put out to dry.

  There was little talk in those first moments of settlement. Possessions were offloaded from the wagons, the great beasts that drew them set free to descend back down the mountain, and sleep in peace. Those things were claimed by their owners, as they carved out a space for themselves among the caves. A few had to venture back out into the snow and relocate to another cave, until balance was achieved within the limited space. Darkness was drawing near, and the sun faded behind dark clouds, still shedding frozen water on the village. It alternated now between snow and freezing rain, and at times a hard shell could be seen shining on the mountain, spelling certain death for any foolish enough to descend. But these people were at peace in the warm caves, looking over its walls at messages scrawled from times past. Every so often the walls would get so full, some would sand away those carvings, their meanings lost to eternity, creating a blank slate. A few of the walls in the cave Arciss and Uonil were in were so cleaned, shining in the newly born firelight.

  Uonil helped her mother arrange her belongings, and pull some food from the stores. Three fires were almost set, two for general heat, one for cooking. After they were done, Uonil sat in front of one of them, watching its limbs dance and sway in the wind, lulling her into a deep calm. Arciss sat beside her.

  “You haven’t said much to your mother.”

  “I think we both have many things to think over.”

  Arciss nodded. “Have you introduced yourself to Denre yet?”

  “Now why would I do that?” asked Uonil, blushing.

  “You know why. I could feel the connection between you two in the Boolin. You know he is well matched for you.”

  A weaker woman would have blushed, but she was able to mentally control herself. “We are here for too short a time to involve myself in such foolishness.”

  “Time is what you make of it.” Arciss’ voice was calm and warm, and no matter how much Uonil desired to brush it off, he couldn’t be ignored. “It is only as long or as short as you want it to be. Some can spend cas with a mate, and get little joy. Others can burn like that flame with another, high and hot, and though the fire be only for a night, the memory will last a lifetime.”

  Uonil shifted on her knees, arranging her skirt, finally dry and still a little warm. “Maybe over the feast.”

  Arciss smiled, squeezing her arm for a moment. “I will hold you to that.”

  After a droa, others began to gather around the fire, with food in their hands and smiles on their faces. The man named Denre sat near Uonil, on the other side of her mother and a friend. It was the first time she h
ad to see him close up, without a blanket of snow between them. His face had wisdom about it; his nose long and thin, his eyes narrow, yet sometimes she would see them open in joy, the light dancing in their depths. He was a shorter man, thin, but with strong arms and hands. His bronze skin was deeply tanned from work outside over the cas, his hair still thick, its short black curls hanging loosely around his face. Uonil stole glances at him as he helped pass food around, hearing his short laughter, watching his quick, sure hands. She didn’t want to glean any thoughts from him, valuing his privacy, but she could sense a disciplined mind, one of contentment and peace.

  Everyone leaned in, after putting the raw meat and roots on a stick, to roast in the fire. As Uonil leaned in, she turned to see his face, hoping to catch his gaze. He also turned to her, nodding his head in greeting, his face gentle like the memory of a myth.

  After the meal was finished, some went further back in the cave, and sat, talking. Others gathered around Arciss and questioned him endlessly about matters of faith. Uonil found herself alone, as she did not want to talk with her mother. They hadn’t exchanged more than five words since arriving in the cave, for both knew what really needed to be discussed.

  “Hello, Mentra.”

  She turned, and it was Denre. “Please, call me Uonil.”

  “Uonil, come sit with me.”

  They took a spot near the entrance to the cave. The snow had abated, for a time, and the stars glistened in the nighttime sky. For a moment, she thought on Rellcine, and what they were doing, what plans they were scheming in response to the TELREC. Then she turned and looked at Denre, and was so glad to be here.

  Though he was not a tall man, he carried himself with an air of dignity. Relatively thin, he had muscles hardened by work in the fields picking roots, tending beasts, building and repairing homes. He had a musky smell about him, one that drew Uonil closer the more they spoke. She noticed his eyes were piercing; they came in use for hunting, as he rarely missed his mark with bow and arrow. She glanced at his hands, and they mirrored the roots they ate—the veins stood out against his bone, they were tough, and large for his frame. When he spoke he had a gentleness in his voice. It wasn’t a doubtful, apprehensive voice; it was full of confidence, yet warm and comforting.

  Denre, seeing the anxious look in her eyes, began gently. “So, you grew up here?”

  “Yes. I left when I was about ten cas old.”

  “That must have been sad,” he said softly.

  “It was. I didn’t want to go. Does that surprise you?”

  “Maybe if I had met you in the capital, as the ‘Mentra.’ But here, you seem to be one of the community; you don’t hold yourself as superior to others. You work, just as we do.”

  “Well, I admit my mother wanted me to work in the granary when first we arrived.” They both chuckled. “I found more constructive, more appealing work to tend to.”

  “I’m glad you did, Uonil. A roa’s work there and you’d be fast asleep now, depriving me of your lovely company.”

  Uonil blushed a little, turning towards the fire. “And yourself? You’re not from here.”

  “No. I come from Allexdin, about fifty tils northeast,” said Denre, motioning to a point out to the left of Averil. “My parents settled here twenty cas ago, and I immediately felt this was home.”

  “Why did they settle here?”

  “Honestly? My mother was being tempted to stray by someone in our town. They both thought it best to move somewhere more isolated, where they could reconnect with themselves.”

  “Did it work?” asked Uonil.

  “Unfortunately not,” replied Denre with a sigh. “They stayed mated, but I could tell they were miserable. A few cas ago, my mother finally ended her status, and went back to her home.” Denre paused for a moment, absorbed in his past. “Are both of your parents still alive?”

  “My mother is. My father died a little while ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “As am I. I wasn’t here for his death, and I greatly regret it.”

  “You don’t seem to be very close with your mother.”

  “You can tell?” Uonil wasn’t sure if it came out sarcastically or not. “Yes, we have our . . . issues.”

  “Pardon me for presuming, but shouldn’t you, as Mentra, hold up yourself as the example to follow for all? If there is something that needs to be discussed, and sorted out, shouldn’t you do this now?”

  Uonil looked at him, a man with such sweetness in his eyes, and honesty in his heart, and she knew he was right. She looked over at her mother, sitting with Ulidric.

  “Thank you. Will you excuse me?”

  “Will you be back?” asked Denre.

  “I promise, for you.”

  Uonil went over, and took her mother aside. They sat together, and began to open up to one another, to speak of what was on their minds for so long. They spoke to each other long into the night, going over what happened to each of them in the past cas. Ellae spoke of her husband, Ju-huld, how much she loved him, how much he missed his daughter, and wanted to have another. Ellae felt, like the others, that their planet was doomed, and it would be wrong to bring another life into it if it would be for such a short time. Her hope truly died when Ju-huld was killed in the accident. She gave up, feeling terribly alone. Only her talks with Ulidric kept her from suiciding in the Circulle, kept her mind focused and her body active.

  Uonil spoke of Martel, and how important he was to her. She spoke somewhat of Graid, but some things had to be kept from even her mother. Instead, she focused on her growing understanding of Novan culture, of Arciss and his remarkable transformation, of the Kal-Durrell and what it was like to speak with the faces of the universe. It was now late, and most had gone to sleep under great blankets, with a couple left awake to tend the fires. Uonil held her mother’s hand.

  “I’m glad you’re here, mother. I don’t know what I would have done, if something happened to you.”

  “I’m glad you came back,” replied Ellae, “and that no matter what happens, we have had this chance to speak to one another.”

  “You know, I used to feel very bitter against you and father, for giving me up.” She paused for a moment, considering her words. “But I have come to realize, it was as it should be. I, the Mentra of this world, second only to the Kal-Alçon, allowed my own anger to cloud my judgment and impair my logic. And that anger has kept me from you, and cost me final moments with my father.” She clasped her mother’s hands in her own. “I hope you can forgive me.”

  Ellae couldn’t look at her; tears were streaming down her face.

  “You don’t know how many times I’ve cursed myself that I allowed my faith to come before my duties as a mother! I should have never let them take you! I should have fought them, cursed at them, begged them to let you stay. I know what you missed, how your childhood was taken away from you, watching others build lasting relationships, while you suffered alone. It is I who must apologize. Maybe that’s why I lost my faith, that roa my husband died. It truly left the roa they took you, and only now is it restored.”

  They embraced, sobbing into each other’s arms, knowing nothing but the heartbeat of the other.

  “I see you may have found someone special?” asked Ellae, wiping her tears with the cuff of her jacket.

  “Arciss seems to think so. I actually should thank him; he made me realize my duty, a little while ago.”

  “He sounds like a good man. I know you’re only here for a short time, but in that time, forget about everything else. You are Uonil, a young woman, and that is all. Make the most of this time. Promise me?”

  “If you promise me one thing?”

  “Anything,” she said, drawing her daughter close.

  “Maybe you ignored the signs in the Boolin, but I saw them. You need to open your heart to Ulidric. He has been by your side for many a cas now, too honorable to wrest you from your memories. But the time has come for you to bury my father, and let him lie. Your roas are
far from over, and they can still be filled with happiness.”

  Ellae glanced back at Ulidric, sleeping in a corner, his kind face turned towards her, and she felt great warmth rise within her, that quickly turned to love.

  “I guess I just needed you to come back. Thank you, Uonil.”

  She got up, and went over to Ulidric. He groggily looked up, and she slipped into his arms, kissing him deeply. Uonil had never seen a man so surprised, yet so overjoyed. They embraced, and Uonil turned away, slipping into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  The morning brought the sound of birds that had flown into the cavern for warmth during the night. More than a couple of people woke with droppings on their heads and clothes, then got to flushing the visitors back out into the open air. A couple of small malltas crept in during the night also, making their home near the fire, between two mountains of blankets. Usually timid, they stayed around as the people woke, grateful to be fed some scraps from the morning meal. The sky was still filled with snow, the village now completely buried, invisible to all who tried to find it. Arciss sat next to Uonil, who was reading some of the inscriptions on a nearby wall.

  “Look at this one, Arciss. This has to be seven thousand cas old.” She pointed to an inscription very near the cave floor, written in the Rell tongue, but with some artifacts in the language that vanished many centuries ago. “There is so much history here.”

  “And then there is the history of those who came before us.”

  “You mean, the Enquit?”

  “We never think about them, do we?” Others had gathered around him as he spoke, so used were they to listening to his thoughts. Soon, the entire cavern was focused on him. Arciss spoke, and cast his thoughts to the people of Averil.

  “^We never think that our ancestors, the Three Hundred, wiped out an entire civilization, and entire world! We, who pushed our minds to the limit, inventing things beyond imagination, the technology to pierce through the dimensional divide, used it for plain murder. To escape our own cowardice. My friends, for so much of my life I have cherished the memory of the Three Hundred. They were heroes, saviors to me. They sacrificed their eternal souls, their very salvation, to bring us a world without our hated enemy. But whose souls did they condemn? Theirs, or ours? We live on a world that is not ours, cherish rock and stone, tree and sky that were robbed from another. How could things so stolen, bring us any good? Especially when they were purchased with cowardice.^”

  “^I am the Steward to the Kal-Alçon,^” continued Arciss, more focused than Uonil had ever seen him, “^and I say it for all to hear; we were cowards! We, instead of finding a way to solve our problems with the Novans, instead of sacrificing something of ourselves, ran away, and made others pay for our sins. I stand on a ground whose history I do not know. We have done nothing to preserve the memory of those we destroyed. Instead, any artifacts we find, we crush. We transplanted every living thing to this world, and burned every indigenous lifeform to dust. How pathetic of us! How sad and thoughtless.^”

  “^What can one gain, when it is based in murder? How can one profit when the ground is stained with the blood of more than one could imagine? How can we be buried in that ground, without it vomiting up our corpse in righteous disgust? When they sterilized this world, they did so from orbit, never looking on the faces of those they killed. Never giving the dying the satisfaction, the eventual peace of confronting their executioners.^”

  “^Why do I tell you this? Why do I bring up such sad memories, such cruel judgment against my own people, at a time when we should be rejoicing in our company? Think on the Boolin. It is meant as an expression of truth. One only builds it with truthful statements, only gains wisdom based in that truth. We all should think of those Enquit, those who died with no marker, no symbol that they ever existed. We have six more roas here, unless something extraordinary should happen with the weather. Use this roa to give remembrance to those who died, so we might live. We cannot excuse how we came about this world, we can only cherish it now, and ourselves. Come, let us join in Castiliad, and build a Boolin with all our people, spread out throughout the mountain.^”

  They all sat back, and focused their minds in the Castiliad. First, they linked with one another. Then, once the Boolin structure had begun, they linked with others throughout the network of caves. Their minds responded, and they joined in kind. For most of the morning, they focused on the Enquit, what their deaths meant, how they could relate it to changes in their own culture. Many a person was reduced to tears on thinking on the deaths of so many men, women and children, so many species of animals gone, so much flora and fauna burned in the fires of the Three Hundred.

  As they were focused on the Boolin, one of the malltas ventured within their circle. Uonil focused on it, and its image came up in the Boolin. Uonil had an extensive knowledge of microbiology, as well as a few others on the mountain, and in moments, its DNA also became a variable in the Boolin. Uonil focused on some abnormalities within its structure, ones noticed and logged several millennia ago. She postulated that microbes may have survived the sterilization of the old world of the Enquit, microbes that were absorbed into his animal’s bloodstream, as well as everything they transplanted. She separated those abnormalities, isolating and constructing the source microbe. Others then joined in, also skilled in genetic engineering. In moments, they evolved the organism first into a one celled, then one multi-celled, then into a complex lifeform. Gradually, they hypothesized on an amoebic form, then a small fish-like form. It grew, to amphibian, mammal, then to a furred forest-dweller. The community looked on this creation, a possible representative of a long dead world.

  In the afternoon, work was begun on one of the great blank walls of the cavern. It was decided to make an image of the creature they created in the Castiliad, a hypothetical inhabitant of the world of the Enquit. It was to be a huge image, ten feet high, twenty feet long. People from the other caves came in, working together, sketching the image with burnt wood, then gradually chipping away at the stone, bringing the animal out of hiding. Uonil worked with Denre most of the roa, and they exchanged laughs and sighs, talking over their lives, sharing themselves with one another. Part of the joy people had in coming to the cavern was seeing their romance bloom, for though Uonil was one of them, she was also the Mentra, one of the most powerful people on the planet, and her happiness brought them hope, her laughter lightened their sorrow. Arciss glanced at her from time to time, watching her lower her guard, hoping she would not resist this good thing.

  Sunset came quickly, and though they all sat for a while, hoping to replenish their energy, fatigue settled and stayed. A few were assigned to clear the floor from the chippings of stone, while others prepared the fire for the feast. More food was broken out of storage and a few brave souls ventured outside, as the snow had reduced to a few flurries. Most were sad to see it go, as they knew it signaled the end of their retreat was closer than they would have liked.

  Arciss took a few people and ventured to another large cave, at their request. More people wanted to speak with him, question him, warm themselves by his devotion and faith. He did so humbly, with a gentle smile, freely embracing everyone. He could feel that this was building to something, and only recently divined what it might be. For now, he sat with them at their feast, at the end of this roa of remembrance for the Enquit, and beseeched them to hold the memory of those people within their hearts for as long as they lived. Solti was at this meeting, and approached him afterwards.

  “You have changed.”

  “Maybe not changed,” he said with a smile, as they sat near the back of the cavern, “merely changed the potential into actual. I have always had great confidence in my beliefs, my faith, but not that much in myself as a person. Over the past few dcas, I’ve had my identity challenged by a very strong persona, one that eclipses others in his wake. I think I’ve finally reacted to his influence, becoming stronger, and more direct.”

  “It is rare when one reacts positively to such
a dominant personality,” said Solti, running her fingers lightly along Arciss’ arm. “Usually, one fades into their brilliance, lost in the corona.”

  “Has that happened to you?”

  She beamed at him, grabbing hold of his arm, coming close to his chest.

  “I think you’ve helped enough people this roa,” she said, her face close to his, beaming with a lover’s smile. “I have my own issues—I’m not perfect. But I felt I just wanted to be with you. I enjoyed our time spent together when you first arrived.”

  Arciss looked in her warm eyes, filled with a suggestion of what could be. He had recently ended his relationship with Cray, and was feeling lonely. He had never been with a woman, didn’t think he could even be attracted to one, at least, not until his experience in DaLynch with Graid. Ever since then, in quiet moments, he re-examined his sexuality, wondering about the choices he had made in his life. She could sense his hesitation, and backed away.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sure you have someone that means something to you, back where you came from.”

  He leaned forward, and pulled her into his arms, his voice thick and husky. “No, please sit with me—I enjoy your company.”

  They relaxed back, and spoke of their lives, their lost hopes and still vibrant dreams, until the night was deep and still.

  The morning came gently, sunlight spilling over mighty snow hills, giving life to a valley buried in a snowy tomb. The clouds were nowhere to be seen, so the sky echoed every subtle hue cast from the sun, blooming as a flower over the land. The people of Averil slept late, and soundly. Solti and Arciss still resting against a wall, sleeping next to each other, as if still engaged in the discovery of themselves. All were at peace save Uonil, who tossed and turned, locked in a terrible dream.

  What are you firing at, Graid?

  Where are you?

  What power is within you, how can you do this?

  She woke, struggling for breath as the blankets had crept over her head. She staggered to the opening of the cave, breathing in deep the fresh air, going over in her mind the elements of her dream.

  “Are you alright?”

  It was Denre.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you last night, I was quite tired.”

  “We all were.” He turned back into the cave. “But it looks magnificent, doesn’t it?”

  On the wall the creature emerged. Two-thirds of it was done, and by the end of this roa, it would be complete. The relief was etched deep into the cavern wall, the still young sunlight making highlights along its form.

  “It’s amazing how much we accomplished.”

  He came beside her and put his arm around her shoulder, drawing her next to him. “Bad dream?”

  “And I never dream! The more one uses colvition on Novan, the less one dreams, or at least, the less one remembers them.”

  “Can you tell me about this one?” he asked.

  She sighed sadly. “I wish I could.”

  Uonil looked at this man, who she only recently began to get to know, and suddenly she felt nervous around him. Her hands were jittery, she felt self-conscious about her clothing, her smile, her voice. Her stomach wouldn’t stop rumbling, she hoped he would stay a little longer, say one thing more, yet wished he would go away, so afraid was she of making a mistake.

  “As the Mentra, I know of things that I just can’t share with anyone. My dream was about one of those things.”

  “Ahhh . . . I see. Then maybe it’s something simpler. Problems at work?”

  She laughed, thinking how she wished her ‘job’ could be reduced to such simplicity.

  “I guess so. You have a nice smile, Denre.”

  Should I have said that? Am I being too forward?

  “Thank you, Uonil. I like spending time with you. How is it you don’t have a mate?”

  “That would be a very long story.”

  Denre sat back, gesturing to the mountain of snow outside. “We have the time.”

  “Well,” she began, sitting back with him, “I guess most of my life I’ve felt I was a freak. I have always possessed this mind, this brain that seems not to belong in this body. I was a sub-Alçon at thirteen, a full Alçon at sixteen, the Mentra at eighteen. I have absorbed more information than you could believe! I hold full honors in eighteen of the twenty recognized fields of study, with expert status in the other two. My whole life has been about study, and about becoming comfortable supervising those two or three times my age, figuring out how to earn their respect. And on top of it all, I am the Mentra, guardian of Graid. The Kal-Alçon is my responsibility, and as such, the hopes and future of this world are my responsibility. I never feel like a woman. I am cursed with this short, stocky body, with a child’s face. Oh why am I telling you all this? You don’t want to hear this from a woman. You see, I have all this intelligence, but no wisdom, no experience.”

  He nodded quietly. “It sounds as though you have gone most of your life without someone to confide in, without someone to be completely open with. Martel, though you obviously loved him as a friend, and possibly desired him as a mate, was still your sub-ordinate, and as such conversations with him followed a particular dynamic, based on that power structure. I’m probably the first person in your life you have been this open with, am I right?”

  She looked sheepishly into his eyes, overjoyed at his compassion and intelligence. “Yes.”

  He held her hand, moving nearer to her, Uonil growing flushed and nervous.

  “And I can’t tell you how much that flatters me, how much it warms my heart.”

  His face moved closer to hers. She couldn’t believe what he was doing. Uonil broke out in a sweat, fears and anxieties racing through her mind. She could handle dozens of cescts simultaneously, but this one experience she found was completely overwhelming her. Their lips touched, and she closed her eyes, feeling warmth flush her face. She pulled him in close, pressing harder on him, her instinct and desire overpowering her modesty. He let her draw him in, their mouths opening and closing, his hands moving up and down her back. The taste of his lips, of his flesh, was something unlike she had ever felt before, and it blinded her mind and aroused her body. Eventually she pulled away, looking at him through eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes quickly with her sleeve.

  “Don’t be! That was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”

  She paused for a moment, knowing how vulnerable she was becoming to him.

  “Yes.”

  “Did I make a good impression?”

  She laughed, and he with her. Denre kissed her on her forehead.

  “It only gets better, the more you do it.”

  He sat before her, completely cool and confident, aware that he was firmly in charge. She couldn’t believe how small she felt in front of him, how exposed, yet how happy she was at the same time. She looked down into the valley, where the tops of houses appeared to push up from within the snow, begging to be born anew.

  “It looks like we will be able to leave in two roas.”

  “Then we’ll have to make the most of them.”

  “I wish we could go walking, together.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “You’d think it was silly.”

  “Please, Uonil, you can’t share with me things about your work. So, you need to share with me these other ‘silly’ things.”

  “Yes, I suppose I do. I just remember, well, do you know that path, leading to the Boolin tree, where all the couples went?”

  “Ah, the path of Ulis?”

  “Yes. Well, I was just thinking, it would be nice to walk through there, with the sun shining through the leaves, the sweet darkness just beside the light. I guess you went there many times.” she said, dreamily gazing into his eyes.

  “A few. And yes, it would be nice to walk there with you.” He looked out over the landscape, clouds beginning their assault on the sky, the full range of the Drugghid sprawling out before them, trees just beginn
ing to reappear, birds rising and falling on the gentle breeze.

  “We’ll just have to make a new tradition. Just for us.” He put his arm around her. “Sitting and watching the morning sunrise.”

  Their peace and calm lasted but a few mroas, but they were everything to Uonil. They heard footsteps, as others came from neighboring caves to finish the carving. Her mother appeared behind her.

  “Hello, Uonil. How was your sleep?” She looked over at Denre as he moved off, giving them some privacy.

  “Very restful. How was yours?”

  Her mother sighed, and held Uonil in her arms.

  “I haven’t been this happy in so long, my daughter! To have such love again, from a man, and from my own daughter, back with me, even for a short time. This world could perish tomorrow, and I would be more ready than I thought possible. It looks as though you have found some happiness too?”

  “Yes. I didn’t think it possible either,” she said, beginning to cry. “I didn’t know how alone I was, until someone was with me.”

  More people filed into the cavern.

  “Well, this won’t do, the Mentra of our people, sobbing in her mother’s arms.” She started to move away. Uonil pulled her back, burying her head in her mother’s chest.

  “Here, I am Uonil, daughter of Ellae. Nothing more.”

  “Now ladies,” said Ulidric, walking towards them, “there is work to be done! We need everyone’s help if we are to finish this roa.”

  “Mother, how could you get involved with such an overbearing man?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ellae, as she stood and kissed him. “I just don’t know.”

  The roa went quickly, as all were eager to finish the carving, to stand back and look on it, free from dust and debris. Arciss spoke often with Uonil, some subjects of their other life coming up, spoken of with a different perspective on both parts. Both of them were amazed they hadn’t seen solutions to particular problems before, or understood a point of view. Arciss was getting closer to Solti, and thought a part of him regretted it, feeling he was betraying a part of himself, another part of him surrendered to her love and kindness, and was supremely happy. The malltas had become comfortable around their roommates, jumping around at their feet, waiting to be fed a scrap from the meal. As the sun sunk low in the hills, one of the people motioned to the opening, and others turned to see the malltas stop at the entrance, look back at the people, then run down the hill, rejoining the world. Arciss stood at the entrance, and turned back to face those with him in the cave, casting to the rest spread throughout the mountain.

  “^My friends, I can honestly say I have never been happier than I am right now. I have been among those whose faith was absolute, but whose hearts lacked joy. They recited verse, as I once did, but their words had no feeling, no passion. It was as if they ate food, but it gave them no pleasure, or they had forgotten it could give them pleasure. We have found that pleasure, found that one can relish in the peace and unity faith brings about.^”

  “^I have something to ask of you. I am not the Mentra, nor the Kal-Alçon. My position is not one which gives me authority over Rell people, such as yourselves. I merely ask you this as a friend. I have seen much on this world, listened to many people, and they all suffer as you once did. They live lives based in faith, but never celebrate it. For so long we have defined ourselves as the opposite of the Novans—where they revel in pleasure, we live in austerity. Where they wallow in sin, we arrogantly recite words and practice ritual. The approaching Ascension of the Cuhli-pra has magnified this failing, as now people have nothing of worth for them to rely on as their fears confront them. Fear is a beast that doesn’t run at the mere mention of words, or bow to motions made in ritual. Fear must be confronted with the whole of oneself; all one’s mind, body, and soul, for it to truly be defeated. Our world begs for the likes of you! Our people cry out not for one Kal-Alçon, but for a thousand, a hundred thousand, to walk among them, sit with them in their dark night of the soul, and lead them to light’s salvation. The Castiliad must be brought back to those that have forgotten it, this whole world must be united, one mind, one soul, one thought, if we are to prevail. Time is short, a crisis is approaching, a time when our most powerful, the Kal-Alçon, will need the help of each and every Rell. I ask you to go among them, leave your homes, take nothing but the clothes on your back, and travel around this world, this home now ours, and bring back those who have given up. Change those whose minds have become perverted with hatred of our enemies. Rescue those from temptation. I am not your leader, nor shall I ever be, nor do I desire to be. I am a humble servant of the Kal-Durrell, the living faces of the universe, who chose us to live among, chose us to give comfort and guidance to. It is in their glory that we live, it is for their glory we would die.^”

  “^We must bring back children into this world!^” His voice boomed through the caves, a deep man’s voice, and his thoughts resonated in their minds with a strength and intensity never felt before. “^We must love our mate, and with hope and faith, bring new life into this world. While the Novans hear only misery from their children’s mouths, their cries shall be as music to our ears. Their needs be a reminder of the true purpose in life; to regenerate, to renew. Tonight should be for that purpose, to renew our race, to go out bearing the seed of a reborn Rell. Let us join in the Castiliad, and find truth.^”

  They knelt their heads down, creating the root structure of the Boolin in their minds. Arciss projected it onto the buried tree near the village, and in moments, it began to build. Associations of families, conversations, co-workers, perceptions of faith, of lessons from the Kal-Durrell, they all formed the basis for this Boolin. They felt these leaves spring from that tree, felt the branches of their Boolin pulse with energy. The newly renewed bonds of love and friendship, their commitment, unspoken, to follow Arciss’s suggestions and venture out into Rell, and leave their village behind. Their masks were lowered, and all their fears, all their anxieties were thrust into the light and dispelled within, for truth formed this Boolin.

  As they finished, several droas later, they walked to the edge of their caverns, looking down on the village. Though most of it was still covered with snow, the tops of buildings finally breaking through, they could see a great crater, wide and deep, and in its center the real Boolin tree stood, strong and flowering, symbol of their renewed faith.

  The people disbursed quickly, eager for a night of passion and rebirth. Arciss took Uonil aside, as Denre was speaking to a few people.

  “Are you nervous about tonight?” he asked, his eyes betraying his concern.

  “Possibly.” Uonil wasn’t nervous in the Castiliad, but now, alone, this night was all her mind could think of. Arciss grew serious, laying his hand on her shoulder, speaking to her as a brother might to a sister.

  “Uonil, even in the Castiliad, where truth is meant to drive out the false, some things can be hidden.”

  She glanced at him sideways, growing concerned. “What do you mean?”

  “I watched Denre in that experience, and I am convinced he is hiding something.”

  “What are you saying?!” she demanded growing defensive. “That I should stop seeing him?”

  “What do you think? You are the Mentra.”

  ^Not here, not now!^ She switched to cast, so others wouldn’t hear, backing away from him. ^How dare you! I finally find some happiness, some joy, and you suggest I should end it, because of a feeling you have? I think this new role you find yourself in has gone to your head. And your success with Solti. You have had a life of pleasure, Arciss. This time is mine!^

  Uonil felt the child within her rise, displacing the mature adult, demanding to have its needs met, its desires satisfied.

  ^Uonil, relax, and nest some reason,^ cast Arciss, trying to soothe her.

  She struggled to maintain a calm demeanor as others walked by, smiling and waving.

  ^Arciss, tonight go your own way, and don’t even think of me. I want this more than any
thing, right now, more than the success of our damned Kal-Alçon. Leave me!^

  She walked over to Denre, who embraced and kissed her. Arciss looked on, shaking his head, as Solti took him by the hand.

  “What’s wrong, Arciss?” she asked.

  “There are times desire can be stronger than even truth.” Arciss thought for a moment of Graid. “Sometimes, our experiences can blind our minds to the obvious, no matter how intelligent we may be. It is as if we stand in the glow of the newly risen sun that blinds our eyes, yet swear it be darkest night. One only hopes a few rays of that light will pierce the darkness, and show a path to redemption.”

  She kissed him, long and deep. “Come, let us be alone.”

  While Arciss and Solti journeyed to a nearby cave, Denre sat with Uonil, both with a thick blanket over them, kissing lightly.

  “Uonil, I know there is great pressure to do this, but I also know that we have only recently met, only recently have gotten to know each other. I would be content if you wanted to just sit, like this.”

  She caressed his face with her small, eager hands. “You are a sweet man. But I haven’t wanted something this badly in a very long time.”

  He welcomed her reply, by kissing her along her neck, his lips cradling the muscles in her shoulders. They spent almost a droa, kissing and talking of lover’s things, her passion growing more inflamed. Then he kissed her deeply, his tongue mingling with hers, and she moaned, like she never had before. She could feel her logical mind fading into the recesses of her consciousness, as her body became inflamed with desire. For so long she had wanted this surrender, this abandonment of logic, and responsibility. For droas more they kissed, growing closer and more inflamed with passion as night descended around them. As the fires danced around the cave, she felt him raise her shirt, running his hands along her back, and felt his strong, muscular arms embrace her. The heat of the fire, the coolness of the cave, the hard, dirt floor covered only by the skin of an animal, these things seemed right to her, for her first time. They lay down, his body on top of hers, his legs mingling with hers, as she felt his desire grow. Any inhibitions, any fear of rejection was long gone, as her breasts now lay exposed. His every touch, every tongue-trace was like an explosion in her mind, inflaming her lust. She pressed his head close to her chest, thinking how wonderful it was to have a man close to her, like this. She felt she could spend an eternity like this, having this man worship her. In the distance she could hear the groans of her people, consummating their love, banishing cas of misery and hopelessness into the night, conceiving of a new generation, born of their devotion. Their moans wove into the texture of the furs, into the skin of this man, now bare on her, as they lay naked with each other. She spread her legs, feeling him enter her. She heard of the pain, of this first time, and could have negated it with her mind, but she wanted to feel everything. He came in slowly, looking her in her eyes, telling her he would be patient. But she wanted it now, regardless of the pain. She brought him in quickly, and for a moment, screamed, biting into the fur blanket, holding back the tears. Then as he moved slowly, within her, her pleasure numbed the pain. She felt she could feel every wrinkle, every vein within him. She looked in his eyes, and felt she would give everything up, resign her position as Mentra, to have this pleasure again. He moved faster within her, and she could feel her tension building, feel her body expand, welcoming him inside. He moaned, and it was the most beautiful thing she ever heard. She moaned with him, her muscles tightening, her mind being overwhelmed with a new sensation, like ecstasy, building, rising from her center, through her breasts, up in her neck. She couldn’t wait, she wanted this climax, this resolution to this tension. She pulled him in harder, and he obliged, sweat dripping on her face, a slickness on her breasts and stomach. She clenched into his back, feeling the moment was near.

  No!

  The blade was close, its point at her chest, resting between two of her ribs.

  No!

  He tried and tried to push it in, but her mind was too strong. He was still within her, but he felt dirty to her now, and all she wanted was to be rid of him.

  ^What are you?!^

  She invaded his mind, disabling the traps, breaking through the defenses with a speed he could not anticipate. He was a TELREC, planted long ago, in her hometown, in anticipation of an opportunity just such as this.

  She began to cry, her fury building inside her. Denre could see the eyes of lust turn to murder. The knife dropped out of his hand, as he felt his mind burn. She disabled his speech center, then crushed him in the most painful way she knew how. To another, he looked to be in the throes of ecstasy. But in moments, he was dead, collapsing on top of her.

  How could I have been so foolish?!

  She lay there for a while, unable to even move his body off of her. The sounds, the thoughts of the others in the cave, copulating, made her nauseous, and finally she managed to push his body off her. She sat up, looking down at this thing that was Denre, shrouded mostly in the darkness of midnight, only his face illuminated in the fading cavern fires. He didn’t look evil, or angry to her. He didn’t even look Novan.

  He just looks pathetic and small.

  Uonil absently threw on a robe, and pulled her blanket with her to the side of the cave, away from the people. There she huddled in a ball, her arms around her knees, and sobbed off and on for the rest of the night. Never before had she killed someone, at least directly.

  I have ordered the deaths of so many, not even knowing their names. Martel killed many TELREC agents, Arciss has even seen some combat. But I have always been safe, in my chair, behind a desk and a window, weak but effective barriers against the reality of war. Her eyes stayed focused on his feet, half-expecting him to regain consciousness, to twitch some part of him. But he lay, still and quiet, the life gone long ago. So this is how it feels to murder someone, to take their life. For a few moments, I had such anger, wanted such vengeance. And now that I’ve had it, it seems so hollow. So empty. I wish I had the chance to question him, to nest all those things I pried from his mind. To ask him how he could do this to me. She knew it was naive even thinking his way, but she couldn’t help it. She let her recent experiences seep into her consciousness as night turned to roa, searching for the truth and meaning in them. Someone sat next to her, just as the sky was starting to brighten in the morning.

  “Are you alright?”

  It was Arciss. She lifted her head up slowly, her neck sore and tight, and clutched onto him, sobbing anew in his arms.

  “You were right, I’m so sorry, you were right! How could I have been so stupid? He almost killed me! I would have done anything for him—”

  ^Calm down, Uonil, and cast to me.^

  She did, leading back against the cave wall. ^You’re right, I’m just not thinking. I haven’t been able to think since I met him.^

  ^Uonil.^ He held her face in his hands, wiping away the tears. ^You are young, maybe not in body, but in the wisdom of the world. You acted as any other woman would have, as any man would have, in your place. You have wanted this for so long, and have never experienced the power of passion. You once told me Graid chastised you for this lack of knowledge, and he was right. One is almost powerless against one’s own heart, against one’s own body. As you rightly said, you are not the Mentra here, you are just Uonil, a beautiful girl, who had her first love.^

  ^But it wasn’t real.^ She looked over at his body. ^It was all to tempt me, to influence me.^

  ^You think Mentras are the only ones to be treated like this? Lust has been confused for love by many a people. Infidelity and manipulation go hand in hand with the mention of sex.^

  ^But I should have known better, Arciss, I should have kept my mind focused, and aware,^ she cast quickly, becoming upset again. ^I should have kept him at a distance, and—^

  ^Maybe, in the future, you will be able to do those things, but it will only be as a detriment to your heart. You can’t blame yourself for living, Uonil. You are also not the
first not to have listened to the advice of a friend.^

  As more light spilled into the cave, Denre’s body could be seen more clearly. He seemed so big, last night, on top of me. Now he looks so small, and I wonder how he could have had such an effect on me.

  ^I think the thing that pains me most, is that he didn’t even use any coercion on me. He wasn’t some genetically engineered being crafted in the arts of seduction; he didn’t use some piece of technology to bend my will to his—he didn’t even exert mental pressure on me! I fell for him, on my own.^

  ^You have more respect for the intricacies of passion and the souman heart now, don’t you?^

  Uonil tightened her lips, and took a hard swallow, trying to take a deep breath. ^Yes. Graid was right to immerse himself in the Novan ways.^ She leaned back, feeling the weight of being a mature woman settle on her shoulders. ^Or he would have been felled as easily as I was, and our people along with him.^

  Arciss hugged her close, wishing he could do more for her, but knowing she needed to work through this, on her own.

  ^How did you know to come here, now?^ she asked, tuning to him.

  ^I wasn’t that far from you, physically and mentally. I would have been here, if you needed me.^

  Uonil thought on his words, on his kindness. ^Where is Solti?^

  ^Sleeping peacefully. And happy.^

  Uonil smiled at him. ^I’m glad at least you found some comfort here.^

  ^Don’t let Denre ruin this time for you. Much has happened here, that should still warm your heart. You have rediscovered your mother, your community, the place where you began. Graid will never find those things.^

  ^Yes. I know. Thank you for being here.^

  ^I am your friend, Uonil. I will always be there for you, always at your side, should you ever need me.^

  Uonil couldn’t express how much that meant to her, how much easier her job would be, knowing she could depend on him with such absolute certainty.

  I will get over this, and it will only make me stronger.

  The new roa dawned to much activity on the mountainside. Possessions were loaded and tied to wagons, the beasts to draw them tracked and brought back to the caves. Laughter resounded through the walls, gentle conversation punctuated the morning stillness. Most of Averil was revealed to them, though the roads were still snow covered. Some hard work was ahead, clearing away the remaining snow, but it promised to be a good roa. Most stopped by the new carving before they headed down the slope to etch their initials under it. Arciss and Solti were the last to leave, inscribing a date under their initials. Uonil was quiet most of the morning, and Arciss walked beside her as they made their way down the summit.

  “You have many things on your mind?” he asked.

  She laughed. “That would be an understatement.”

  “And I’ll bet none of it has to do with the Kal-Alçon, the Cuhli-pra, the Novans or the TELREC, does it?”

  She stood in place, the shock hitting her. She looked at him, and burst into great laughter. He laughed with her, holding her close.

  “You truly have changed, Arciss! And to think I didn’t want you to come with me.”

  “I know you didn’t. But I felt I needed to be here, away from all that, for a little while. I guess I found much of myself here. Who knew I was waiting for myself in a little village nestled between these mountains. Have you thought much on Denre?”

  She nodded, as they moved on. “Yes. I’ve come to grips with the feelings I had for him. I guess I truly feel embarrassed to have been so easily manipulated. Graid was right, about so many things. The Novans have grown to be such different people, it was probably right for him to immerse himself in their culture. But now is the time for him to re-emerge, to come back to us.”

  “You remember when you were with Denre, how you would have given all of it up, just for him.”

  “Yes,” she said, gritting her teeth.

  “Then don’t judge Graid too harshly! He just needs a spark, something major to happen in his life, to set him back on the right path.”

  “I felt that Martel’s death might have been that catharsis, but I was wrong.”

  “Were you? I see that it has affected him more and more with each passing roa. Some things don’t change a person in an instant, it affects them gradually, changing them in ways they didn’t think possible, wearing down their defenses. We must stand united, with him, yet against him, to bring his heart and soul back to us.”

  “What of us?” she asked, stopping to face him in the snow.

  “For now, you are Uonil, and I am Arciss. But once we leave these slopes, you will be the Mentra, and I the Steward. I will always treasure our time here, Uonil. I will never betray your trust, and I will always be there for you.”

  “Thank you, Arciss. What of Solti?”

  “We made each other happy, for a time. But she has work to do, along with the others.”

  “Do you think they will be able to impact our people?” she asked, looking back at the long lines of them stretching back through the snow.

  “I am sure of it! When the Ascension comes, and the Novan people are bound in chaos and anarchy, we shall all be united, a people of one faith, of great compassion, and we will stand willing and able to help them, not conquer them, to go about unifying our people once again, but this time, forever after.”

  Uonil’s mother came up beside them. Arciss nodded to her out of respect, and began to move off.

  “I’ll leave you two ladies now.”

  Ellae gave Uonil a long, deep hug, feeling the pain and anger within her.

  “He is a good man, daughter.”

  “Thank you, mother.”

  Ellae hesitated a bit, unused to speaking with her daughter about tough issues, or sad times.

  “I am sorry about Denre.”

  “Such are the perils of my position. But in his betrayal, I found great friendship, and love, and for that, I am eternally grateful.”

  Ellae brightened, proud of Uonil’s maturity and resilience.

  “I have never seen you this happy!” she cried, hugging her again. “I have never been this happy. Or content. I wish you didn’t have to leave. But I understand it. I hope you do, as well.”

  “Yes, mother. I could not shirk my duty, my responsibility to our people. Too much is at stake. You know, there is much I cannot tell you, but I will say that I never expected to be here, never expected to find this peace. I must thank the Kal-Durrell, for surely, they must have had a hand in this.”

  “Truly, my daughter. We are having an incorporation ceremony, where some will restate their vows, others, like myself and Ulidric, will become one.”

  “Mother! I am so happy for you.”

  “Thank you. Will you come?”

  Uonil thought on all that waited for her, back on Rellcine, all the reports on Kolob, and Nahlai. Then she thought of Arciss.

  “I will always be there for you, mother. It would give me great joy to see this.”

  They embraced, and stood for a while looking at their people wind down the path, entering their village, as the sun broke over the summit ahead. After seeing so much that her people and the Novans could foul and pollute, it filled her heart with great nourishment to see a people happy, and hopeful.

  I feel as though, somehow, Arciss has begun a journey for our people that will spiritually and physically renew them. I, and those on Rellcine may fight for their survival, but they must live and grow, thrive and prosper. We must have something to return to, should we prevail.

  Chapter 13

  Catalyst: ship used by Mechle Rulsi in her journey around Celd. Was believed destroyed in the civil war on Celd-2 between Rell and Novan settlers, less than sixty cas after her death.