A Preview of
The Children of the Anarii III
The Becoming
from Chapter 1
As Drek’h entered the camp his senses seemed to swim briefly, then the calm knowing of this clan filled him with unexplained feelings. These people were distant cousins to his mother’s clan. He knew the markings of the Hunters’ clothing well enough, remembering them from his grandmother’s sleeves when he and his mother had lived with her family for a time in his childhood. Of the half dozen tents that made up the clan camp he recognized the symbols of his youth with startling clarity. This is your family, the words danced faintly through his mind as he met the quickened glances that fell his way, wondering briefly with a flicker of fear if someone would remember him. But none of the eyes revealed more than the curious interest of a stranger come into their midst, and only the eyes of the few children truly danced.
They stopped at a tent which was the closest to the water flowing next to the cliff face, a quiet spring that widened into a deep pool, a gift of the Lady, he privately thought. The tent was marked with the clan Elder’s symbols. He wondered who was Elder to such a small group, then he saw her.
She glanced up briefly from her spinning, twisting the yarn between her fingers just like he remembered she had so many years before, with the same ease, even though her fingers revealed the years spent at this and other tasks. Dark gray eyes gazed from an open face, the skin creased yet smooth and taut. Her silver hair was pulled back into a wide braid that fell over one shoulder and pooled in her lap as she sat beside the entrance of the tent. Her sight met his then returned to her hand work.
Tolbek’h knelt before her. "Grandaunt, the Healers have come. The Storm-Rynnok’h Clan has brought us the help you asked for."
"Healers? I see but one Healer here, and he wears the red of the Mirii," she stated firmly, her eyes never raising from the bright gold threads between her fingers.
Callent knelt beside Tolbek’h. "Which man is the Healer, Grandlady? Which do you require?"
The old woman raised her gaze to Callent. A faint scowl etched her lips. "You have been too long warrior. Your companion, of course." She carefully placed the spinning tools into a basket beside her and rose to her feet without the offered aid of either man, then scuttled to the tent flap. "Come, Mirii Healer," she ordered as she raised a hand towards Drek’h. "Come," she repeated and stepped inside the tent.
Callent looked up at his young friend. "I think she means you, alone."
Inside the tent an old man was stretched out on a sleeping pallet, his brow sweat-dotted and his face streaked with fever. His long gray hair had been pulled to one side and braided; it trailed limply beside his right shoulder. The woman knelt at his side and placed her hands on his chest, patting and rubbing gently. "He came to us, by his own power—not the Lii," she said softly, then looked back at Drek’h as he stood frozen near the man’s feet. "He came for you, to be healed."
Drek’h stared at the elder lying before him under the light covering of a woven blanket. It was his father.
In stunned silence Drek'h remained standing, looking at the man. My father, my father... his mind repeated endlessly as he stared at the face of the one who had pronounced him dead to their family so many years before. Drek’h’s Lii horse had fallen and died, his body injured as well, in the hills edging the southwestern Sumarkh. Drek’h’s clan and father called him Drun'ng, outcast, one as dead to the Vondarii, to be shunned by all. It was forbidden to help any named Drun'ng. They were considered base, beneath contempt, abandoned by even the Lady.
The voice of the Elder woman yanked his mind from its thoughts of his past. He moved to his father's side, his emotions twisting within him, leaving him without words. He knelt beside him, his eyes never leaving his father's face, until the old woman reached across and touched his shoulder. He looked up at her ancient face.
"It has been too long, Child of my daughter. Tell me your name," she said and Drek'h felt a wave of sorrow sweep through him.
"Drek'h srii Kitteryth," he replied, his voice barely a whisper.
The Elder shook her head. "No, your first name. The one you were named at midsummer."
He lowered his gaze to the man before him, then answered, "Drek'h vash Rakker of the Star-Gazah Clan," he returned, a whisper of anger rising in his words at the voicing of his former name. His mind recalled the image of his father striking his name off their family records while two Hunters held him from any outburst. He shoved the memory aside and returned his gaze to his mother's mother. "But that is the past, Grandmother. I am Mirii now," he said and raised his hand to begin scanning the man lying between them.
The Elder reached out and stopped his hand. "You are both now, Drek'h. Mirii, yes, but Vondarii first," she returned, her eyes sharp as they met his. "Remember this. You were born Vondarii first. Do not let the error of your clan fathers take that from you."
Drek’h’s gaze hardened. "I am Drun’ng, Grandmother. Outcast to the Vondarii. I am dead to my clan and to this man. I have been reborn as Mirii Aza, and as Healer. Now, let me do my work," he ended and pulled his hand from the Elder's grasp.
An hour later Drek'h emerged from the tent, knowing he had done all he could for the time being. His father rested; the fever broken, his body still in disease. Drek'h stepped past Callent and the other Vondarii who quietly waited outside the tent. He walked to the spring where he sat, staring at its glistening surface.
A few moments later Callent joined him. Together they stared out over the pool of water and watched the grasses sway in the breeze. Finally, Callent spoke, his concern for the younger Aza Tor touching his words. "You are changed, Drek'h. What has happened?"
Drek'h twisted his barii ring, his eyes falling to its dark surface. "My father lies within that tent. He is dying."
Callent sighed deeply, taking in his friend's words. "Your father?" At Drek'h's small nod he continued. "Do you want to save him?"
The stare that met Callent’s was filled with a rage that had been hidden for as long as he had known the younger man. Then Drek’h abruptly looked away and a wave of sorrow flowed through him.
"Yes," he whispered. "But I don't think I can."
Callent nodded, plucking a stone from the grass and rolling it in his hand. "So, it finally comes," he said, then fell silent as he remembered Drek'h's first two years with him at Mahdii Hold. Never had the young Vondarii spoken with anger about his father or his clan. There had been only acceptance and calm denial of the pain and anger that lay underneath. Callent knew of Drek'h's true desire at the time he had rescued him from certain death on the Sumarkh. Death was what the young man wanted most—he had lost his Lii in a bizarre event, then his home, his family, his identity. During the two years he spent as Talent, Drek'h was closely watched by the entire Mirii hold including the meld Azerii, from taking any action toward that desire. It wasn't until Drek'h's meld with Kitteryth that the hold could finally relax their surveillance. Even so, this young Vondarii had fought the meld, until Kitteryth touched him with her love.
As if called, Drek’h’s Azerii suddenly appeared in her light form. She moved into his aura lighting his body with glowing sparks, though Drek'h seemed not to notice, his hands gripped before him as he stared at the cliff. Callent felt his own Azerii hover around the younger man as well, seeking to console Kitteryth from her worried thoughts about her Mirii.
Drek'h suddenly rose to his feet. "Callent, I shall return," he said quietly, then opened his arms to the sky. A bright shimmer cloaked his form and with a gust of wind that rolled from the cliff, he disappeared.
from Chapter 6
The mountain ridge above Zerren's Gate Hold had just had its first dusting of snow when the weary company reached the protective Veil at its western heights. They had crossed Zerren’s Pass a few days earlier, and had been temporarily slowed by a heavy wet snowfall that just covered the tops of their horses’ hooves. At a viewpoint near the top of the ridge, the Aza stopped the company long enough to notify the hold’s watch Aza before continuing crossing the Veil and their descent to the lower entrance of the hold.
In the brightness of the declining afternoon sun, Morgana gazed out over the slopes toward her new home. Starrynn shuddered under her. This is where we will part, Light One. You are at your new place of learning.
Morgana patted the bronze neck, sadness filling her distracted thoughts. Yes, my new home. It is a place of learning. I hadn't thought of it quite like that. She turned and glanced at the other Talents around her, few seeming to echo the mixture of emotions she felt. Tuli barely seem to breathe, her gaze frozen on her mount's ears, and Morgana wondered if she had ever looked beyond her horse's head during the past several days. From their viewpoint, Sharna and Vess started talking excitedly about the differences of Zerren's Gate Hold to Lasah. They pointed at the huge marsh filling the valley; wondered aloud if at the height of spring's thaw whether the low caverns of the hold would be flooded. One of their Aza hushed them with a silent word and they turned startled faces to the trail before them as they started down the mountainside. The path led slowly down the slope, zigzagging through whispering cirra trees, their wide golden leaves seeming to create an otherworldliness around them. Beyond the sploshing of the horses' hooves in the melting snow and the jingling of harnesses, Morgana could hear the sound of tinkling bells, almost like those the wild Azerii made at times. High in the branches, small yellow birds hid in the trees, singing and peeping at the riders through the green and gold forest above their heads.
An air of impatience rose from the Mirii around her as they proceeded down the mountainside, the twisting trail slowing their progress. When they reached midway to the valley floor and another viewpoint, Morgana looked out and felt her breath tighten. What had looked like a large marsh below the forest, was now the open waters of a lake. To the south the valley opened to a large bed of yellow grain, waving like the grasses on the Sumarkh, before it met the next mountain. With the Veil illusion now past, Morgana caught more glimpses of the mountain hold. The face of the opposite slope seemed to be full of rocky terraces between the trees, and she could see the glint of what appeared to be windows looking out over the lake below. The words, Welcome home! suddenly brushed her thoughts and she looked up to a dazzling display of lights shimmering high above the lake.
"It's the Meld," Rejat laughed, her arm pointing over her Azerii’s head. "They've come to dance for us."
"This is their way of welcoming," Elas said from behind Morgana and Rejat, her Azerii stepping up to join them. "I remember they did this for us many years ago when we returned from the Eye, after our joining," she said as she patted her mount's shoulder.
They are happy we have returned, Brealyth sent to Elas and Morgana, nodding her head. Elas reached out and scratched the silver neck of her Azerii.
"Yes, as are all of us," Elas returned, her voice hesitating briefly. Morgana turned to her aunt and caught a momentary flash of sadness in her eyes. Elas’ home was with her husband, Tagar, far away to the west. Morgana was reminded of an earlier conversation. Her aunt was not as happy as the others to be here, or as happy as Morgana, herself, had hoped she would be. Zerren's Gate Hold, my new home. But will it truly be that? she mused. Or will I find my ‘forbidden status’ pushing me away?
They finally reached the lowest point on the trail, and turned north, tracing the lake's western edge, their path well above the rocky bank. Morgana looked across the dancing waters. The face of the mountain still held the last of the afternoon’s light and she was able to see more details. The opposite slope held balconies between the trees, their ledges brushed clear of the wet snow. Cirra mixed with long-needle pine, colorful autumn flowers danced in the bright places, vines crept through the shadows. The face of Zerren's Gate Hold was full of movement, as people suddenly appeared amid the balconies, their hands raised in welcome to the riders returning from their Communion journey.
Voices began carrying across the lake, the words indistinguishable but the meaning clear. Welcome home! again whispered through Morgana from the meld Azerii still dancing over the lake, the bright form nearly mirroring the image of the light shape that had appeared over the Eye of the Lady. The company rode along the lake edge in single file, Elas now before Morgana, while Rejat had stepped her Azerii behind her. At the fore of their column she could see some of the Elders raise their hands in return to the hold members on the balconies. Then they curved around the northern tip of the lake and entered a wide basin-like area on a rocky ledge overlooking the lake. They stopped in front of a narrow cave opening, nearly hidden with overgrown vines, huge trees like door posts stood on either side. "We made it," Rejat said, her voice low. Morgana turned to look at her journey companion. The Aza Har's face was crossed with relief. Around her the other Mirii's faces carried the same look. "We finally made it," their words echoed, their long journey was at an end.
Among the throng, the bronze filly stopped. Morgana slid to her feet, then leaned against Starrynn. Around her the company was doing the same, while new faces began to appear, the hold members stepping out to embrace and assist the returning travelers.
Through the din of voices Morgana heard her name and turned. Rejat waived her hand and sent, Strip the filly and join the Talents. She nodded in answer, then turned to Starrynn and began removing her pack and saddle from the Lii’s back. Around her the Mirii did the same, their Azerii disappearing as soon as their packs were removed, until only the Talents’ and Chosen Talents’ horses remained.
As two men of middle years stepped forward to claim the reins of the horses, one dark brown mare without bridle like Starrynn, began moving away back toward the trail they had just left. Starrynn huffed at the mare as she passed, then turned to Morgana. Be well, Light One. Your time of learning has begun once more, she sent to her chosen rider of the past several weeks.
Morgana embraced the Lii, her sadness lifting once again. I thank you Starrynn, for your assistance. Will I see you again? she sent, her mind full of trembling.
The filly raised her nose to Morgana's face and blew softly. When you have the need, you will see me again, but not until that time, the bronze replied, then gently pushed her nose against Morgana's heart. Fear no more, Light One. You are where you chose to be. Farewell. Starrynn lowered her head and turned away to join the other Lii. The two horses trotted from the ledge and into the golden cirra forest.
Pushing her sadness away, Morgana joined the other Talents, to wait for directions. Before them the entrance beckoned, its doorway a dark cavern between the rich green leaves and the dark brown and gray of the tree trunks and roots on either side. No ornament marked the doorway, as had the great entrance to the Guardian's Hall at the Eye of the Lady. This appeared to be simply an opening into the earth. Only the terraces and the balconies on the east face of the mountain gave the Mirii's hold away.
Among the Mirii Elders, Morant spoke up, claiming the attention of the hold and instructing the members to their quarters to rest before the evening gather. "Talents, to your Elders. You will be shown your quarters by their assistants," he ended, his gaze falling briefly on Morgana before turning to his companion Elders. Morgana felt a wave of apprehension touch her as she looked to the new faces of the hold members and wondered if all knew about her "status".
Neemara's thought suddenly touched her. Come, Sha E'sar is going in, we must follow, the dark-haired Talent sent. Morgana glanced at her as Neemara picked up her riding gear and pack. She quickly did the same, and followed her companion Talent through the crowd. She caught sight of Elas, talking with Rejat and the Elder Healer, Bannist. Her aunt flashed a quick smile and sent, I'll speak with you later.
They joined E'sar by the entrance, which was nearly twice the height it appeared from the ledge, the vines hanging down concealing almost half its height. E'sar smiled encouragement, though his round face was crossed with deep lines from their long journey. "So, Talents, welcome to Zerren’s Gate Hold. Are you ready to see it?" he asked. His smile widened briefly, then noted the nervous look in Morgana's eyes. He reached out to touch her shoulder and sent, Be strong a while longer, then you can rest. The hold tunnels are not as fearsome as some imagine, he sent, thinking her tension was at the prospect of living under the earth, instead of upon it. "Come, follow me, while I show you a little of our home," the Elder said, then turned and with Morgana, Neemara and another Healer carrying his belongings in tow, entered Zerren's Gate Hold.
Morgana felt a moment of disorientation add itself to her apprehension of entering the underground hold as they stepped into the tunnel. In near darkness it twisted back into the mountain more than a few dozen paces long. Why she didn't bump into the Elder or Neemara who were in front of her was a wonder. As soon as her eyes started adjusting to the dim light they were greeted by light spheres clinging to ornate brackets on the walls, giving off the desired light for their steps. They were now inside the inner chamber which opened onto a hall that was several feet wider as well as higher, with more corridors leading in different directions.
E'sar stopped for a moment to let the Talents take in their surroundings. "We have just come through the Travelaars Entrance. This room is where you will leave your saddle, bridle, and any other journey gear you might have, that you do not want stored in your quarters." He paused as another man of middle years approached. "Ah, Aza Connat, this is Talent Morgana and Neemara. They each have journey gear for you."
The Aza Tor nodded, a tight smile slipping across his face. "Welcome home, Sha E'sar, Talents," he said formally, then his smile broadened. "I see you have gathered well for the Healers this year," he said as he reached first for Neemara's saddle and bridle, then turned to Morgana. His smile remained, though his eyes traced around her face. Morgana handed over her saddle, a touch of trepidation lifting through her at the release of her connection to the horses who had worn it. She felt as if a door to that world was closing. The Aza Tor seemed to see this. "Don't worry, Talent, you will ride the Lii again."
Morgana blushed and lowered her eyes. E'sar chuckled. "Yes, Talents, your horse riding days are not over yet. You will have need of your saddles again before your meld." He nodded to the Aza Tor who slung one saddle over his shoulder, picked up the other and inclined his head before turning away toward one of the near openings. His Azerii appeared in hu’man form to assist him as more Mirii entered with their packs and saddles in hand. "Connat will see that your riding gear is well cared for. He is Keeper of this entrance."
"How does he know who's saddle belongs to who?" Morgana asked as the Aza Tor and his Azerii disappeared down the corridor.
"Your signature on your gear," E'sar replied as he started toward the far corridor.
"My signature?" Morgana queried as she shifted her pack and followed.
Neemara answered for the Elder. "Your signature from your energy, Morgana. He can read your energy on your belongings, now that he has met you."
E'sar nodded at her words. "Yes. That is why I introduced you. Connat, or one of his assistants, will meet each new member or visitor to the hold. Then when they leave, he can retrieve their riding gear from storage. Now, let me tell you about Zerren's Gate Hold," he repeated as they began climbing a sloping ramp that spiraled to their left around a wide column of stone.
"Zerren's Gate is the third largest of the holds," E'sar began, his steps slowing as he spoke. "Over one thousand years ago it was tunneled out of existing large caverns in this mountain. At our grandest numbers we can easily hold five hundred people, but less than three hundred now call it home."
As Morgana listened to the Elder, her eyes took in the sights around her. She had never dreamed of a place such as this. The tunnel walls, ceilings and floors of the hold were smoothly carved throughout. The ramp spiraled around a huge column of stone, with small pockets in random places where light spheres brightened their way. The ceiling curved gently with plenty of clearance for the tallest man's height. Colored veins lined the gray-faced rock, which occasionally glimmered with rock crystal. Doorways to other passageways slipped away off the spiraling path.
Morgana guessed they had reached the fourth levels. The Elder turned from the ramp to a doorway where they entered another corridor. He stopped at the entrance. It too was well lit by the spheres and stretched some distance to their right before curving out of sight. To their left was a pair of closed doors, ornately carved, the wood lightly stained to reveal the grain through the carvings.
"This is the Healer's level. The Healers Hall is on the other side of the ramp, through there," E'sar said as he indicated the closed doors. He turned to the corridor before him. More doors, in varying light colors with small, simple designs, lined both sides of the passageway. The smooth floor was met by equally even walls curving up and over their heads. "Your quarters will be on this level, as are Bannist's and my own," he said as he swept his hand toward the long hallway.
They walked down the corridor. "My quarters are near the middle of this level. Bannist's are farther down," E’sar said, his hand pointing to the right wall. "Now, let me see, where are your quarters?" He continued several steps, the Talents and his aide following.
A dark haired woman dressed in a long red skirt and tunic stepped from a doorway on their left, more than halfway down the hall. "Sha E'sar, welcome home," she said lightly, a smile wide upon her face. When the Elder reached her they embraced warmly.
"I wondered where you were, not to greet me at our return," the Elder said as he leaned back from the younger woman, his face mirroring her smile. "Talents, this is Healer Sarinne, my daughter. She'll be your guide for the next part of your journey."
Sarinne smiled as the Elder introduced Morgana and Neemara, then held out her hands to each. "Welcome, both of you," she began, raising her hands palms forward to each, her palms lightly glowing in the traditional Mirii greeting. Morgana and Neemara hastily put down their packs to return the gesture. She smiled again. "I have prepared your quarters. Will you come with me?" With a flashing smile to the Elder she turned and drew them down the corridor. As it began to curve away, they reached a door on the right carved in similar detail to the Healers Hall, and in sharp contrast to the remaining simple doors. E'sar stepped to the door just as his daughter opened it for him.
"Talents, this is where I leave you for now. I shall join you again at evening meal. Good rest to you both," he said, his tired face seemingly heavier. Behind him light filled the room, but before Morgana could see much else, the Elder stepped inside, his aide following, closing the door. Sarinne called them onward.
They continued down the hallway, Sarinne pointing out the bathing rooms along the way. Several paces farther down she stopped at a pale yellow door. She touched the door and opened it wide to the gentle light of a sphere. "Morgana, Neemara, this is your quarters while you are Healer Talents," she said, a slight frown touching her brow. "I know it is small, but such is hold life for new Talents." She stepped inside and they followed. Beyond the door the room opened into a living space that held two narrow wooden framed beds, a tall narrow cabinet beside each, and double the beds’ width to move about. The light of one sphere glowed brightly on the far wall from the door.
Neemara moved to the bed on their left and placed her pack upon it. "It will do us well, Healer Sarinne. Won't it, Morgana?" she asked as she sat down on the bed, her face bright through her fatigue.
Morgana thought of her room at her father's house. This was much smaller than what she had shared with her sister. "I think this is most welcome, after our long journey," she said politely without much conviction. It will at least be welcome to sleep in a bed again, she thought as she dropped her pack on the other bed.
Sarinne smiled at the Talents’ efforts to accept their quarters graciously. "Then I will leave you to your rest, and return when evening call is made," she said, then turned and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
And the journey continues...
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