See Chapter One (A) for Disclaimers
Dar had never really thought about it, but what Tao had said made sense. It once more remind him how lucky he had been in his family. With his father, with his older sister. Lucky that neither had blamed him for his mother's death in childbirth.
And lucky that Mira had never resented him. Had she been happy about no longer being an only child? It occurred to Dar that he had never asked her. Growing up as he had after Mira's disappearance, Dar had longed for a sister or a brother. There were the other Sula children, but . . . it wasn't the same.
Except when he was with Kyra. She had always been able to ease the loneliness. She always knew when to leave him alone, and when to make him laugh. When just to sit at his side and say nothing. The memories washed over Dar, returning him to a time before the slaughter. . .
He had been fifteen years old, listening as his father spoke of their ancestors. For the last thousand years, those of their line had been BeastMasters. And the only interruption had come with the death of Dar's grandfather, years earlier when Ril was just a boy himself. Curupira had taken another Sula as her BeastMaster, and he remained her BeastMaster until Mira's disappearance.
Ril had been uncertain if he wanted the responsibilities and duties of BeastMaster. It had taken the loss of his daughter to wash away his reservations. Perhaps it began as an attempt to regain his lost child, but in time, Ril had become a BeastMaster in fact as well as in name.
Ril had told him as much. He hadn't been able to mention Mira's name. He could barely even say 'your sister.' All he had to say was 'after.' Dar knew what he meant. Knew what his father couldn't say. And he knew that his father had never forgiven himself for losing Mira. The only accusation was his own . . . Ril needed no other. And even Curupira avoided mentioning the girl as a barb.
After that conversation, the boy had returned to the hut. Aunt Aveta was helping to birth a baby, and Dar had been unable to stay put. The conversation with his father had revived too many unsettled memories. And so he had gone in search of Kyra.
He hadn't realized it at the time, but that was what he had been doing. He found her with the children, of course. Looking back, almost ten years later, Dar could even see the faces of the little ones, hear their voices. Speak their names. And the old wounds re-opened once more.
Kyra had seen his expression and once she returned the children to their parents, she had taken Dar's hand and led him to the forest. And Dar had told her about his conversation with his father. How the BeastMaster could not bring himself to speak his daughter's name. And how, even so many years later, Dar himself was guilt-ridden.
Kyra had said nothing, allowing the grief and the fury to run its course before she finally said softly, "It wasn't your fault, Dar. You were a little boy, just a baby yourself. I know you blame yourself. I know your father blames himself. And if Mira did survive that awful night, then I know she blames herself as well."
Dar had looked at her in astonishment, and Kyra explained, "She was ten years old, with her three year old brother in her charge. And she had to leave him, in order to protect him. If she did survive, if she was taken rather than killed, the guilt must have been overpowering."
"My aunt swears that Mira is still alive. That if Mira was dead, she would have felt it. But if she's alive, Kyra, why hasn't she returned to us? Does she believe . . . did she believe that we didn't love her any more? Has she forgotten us?" Dar had asked, his voice cracking. His heart hurt more, thinking about the possibility she was still alive.
"No . . . I do not believe that. Perhaps Mira can't find her way back . . . and if she's forgotten us, perhaps it was against her will. You know what happens to some warriors when they are hit on the head, very hard. Maybe something like that happened to Mira, and she doesn't remember the Sula. But whether she's in this world or the next, Dar, she loves you. I can feel that's true," Kyra answered.
She had spoken with an assurance that sounded almost unnatural coming from a fifteen year old girl. Dar had looked at her and asked, "How can you know this? How can you know what's in my sister's heart, if she's still alive? You are the same age as I am, how can you remember her so well?"
"I don't need to remember, Dar. She is a woman, as am I. And while I don't remember her, your aunt does. And she's a wise woman, your aunt. I listen to her often. If Mira still lives, and that is possible . . . she will return, one day. The mind may forget for a time, but the heart does not forget an eternity," Kyra replied.
"The heart does not forget an eternity," Dar murmured to himself, several years later. He was aware suddenly of Tao staring at him. They had both stopped in the middle of the trail, and Dar shook his head. He said, "I'm sorry. Just thinking something which Kyra once said to me. Something I need to ask Mira when we reach the Varoni lands." Tao nodded, but Dar knew he was still worried. To distract his friend, Dar began teasing him. Distract Tao . . . and himself.
~*~*~*~
What an interesting idea, the Sorceress thought, watching over the travellers in her scrying bowl. It's a pity I can't ask Kyra what that means. But Kyra was in the crystal mind of her mentor, and there was no way the Sorceress could ask her much of anything.
The heart doesn't forget an eternity. For some reason, Amerys found herself thinking of the story which the Ancient One had once told her. About the young sorceress who had fallen in love, and whose memories of that love were taken.
Even if the girl had forgotten her love, in her mind, was it possible that she remembered him in her heart? Something inside felt strange, and Amerys backed away from that idea. She didn't know why it made her uncomfortable, thinking of that story again, but it did.
"The heart doesn't forget for an eternity," she repeated to herself. The BeastMaster had mentioned his older sister, but unfortunately, Amerys couldn't return to the Varoni lands. Her last trip there had ended rather ignominiously. And she wasn't about to repeat that humiliation.
However, she would get an answer to her question, one way or another. Amerys chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, trying to decide what she should do next. The more she watched, the more fascinated she was by both the BeastMaster and by his sister.
She understood the draw she felt to the BeastMaster. She was attracted to his power, to something she didn't have. A power which he had no intention of giving to her, no matter what she did . . . what she held. And besides, he was a very handsome young man. But his sister . . . what was it about his older sister which intrigued her so? What made her so special? Amerys didn't know the answer . . . and for once, she had no way of finding the answer..
~*~*~*~
Zeuran, king of the gods, watched over all silently. He kept a careful eye on the Sorceress Amerys, knowing that without meaning to do so, she could create a living hell. Not just for the humans under the protection of his daughter, but all living things . . . all of Zeuran's creations.
Zeuran's world was a strange one . . . much like the Sula Valhalla, the place of memories, the god's world was a mixture of past and present. The future had not been born yet, so that didn't interest him. At his side was his grandson, Sula. The progenitor of the Sula tribe. Product of a love forbidden.
"You fear her, grandfather, and you fear for her. Just as you fear for my children," he said and Zeuran nodded. He looked deeply at his grandson, this dark-haired man with the deceptively cruel face. He had his father's dark hair. And when he remembered to use it, his mother's smile.
"Yes, Sula. I fear for the children remaining of your line. Just as I sometimes fear for you, until I remember your uncle can no longer harm you. That's when I stop doubting my decision to make you mortal," Zeuran told his grandson, who smiled faintly.
"I've never regretted that decision. Life is made more precious when it's not long. I was beginning to lose sight of that when you came to me at the end. And I thank you for that. Even if I did not at the time," Sula answered. He was silent for several moments, then said, "There was a reason you had the lives of Ril's children spared, wasn't there?"
"They are your direct descendents, Sula. Is that not reason enough?" Zeuran inquired. His grandson just rolled his eyes, and the god laughed, "You inherited the coloring of your father, the smile of your mother . . . and the facial expressions of your aunt Pelagia. And yes, there is more to it than that. But I cannot tell you, Sula."
"I expect nothing else, Grandfather. I am simply pleased that my line, that my people, continues. And whether young Dar knows it or not, he has begun the resurrection of the Sula. Rather, he is continuing its resurrection. I believe that began when little Mira was captured by the hunters," his grandson observed. Zeuran grimaced. He still hadn't forgiven himself for that blunder, however . . .
Sula paused, then added, "I know there was nothing you could have done, to prevent the taking of the girl. But I know you, Grandfather, in a way that not even Pelagia does. You had a brief glimpse of the future, and realized that if Mira was to survive, she would have to be placed with another tribe. I just don't understand why you chose the Varoni."
Zeuran didn't correct him. He had no hand in which tribe ultimately received Mira. True, he had known they primarily dealt with the Varoni . . . but she could have just as easily ended up in the hands of that fool, Baha. However, it was true that the child had saved the Varoni from self-destruction, once she had her foster father's attention.
"Mira," the god-king mused, and the image in the scrying bowl changed to the young queen, "the sacrifice by which the Sula will be reborn. Of course, the child will not see it that way. She sees her choice as the only one she could have made. I created these humans, Sula . . . and I don't understand them."
His grandson gave a short laugh, replying, "Nor do I, Grandfather, and I lived among them for several centuries. I married a human, had children with her. But still, even after all these millennia, I still don't understand them. And never will, I fear. Not even those of my own line."
Zeuran didn't answer . . . instead, he looked at the Sorceress again. His grandson said softly, "She has already begun to remember, Grandfather. And she has more in common with Mira than either could ever dream possible. Fear not, Grandfather. Amerys will claim her birthright, as Mira has."
Zeuran nodded and Sula continued, "And I know you didn't choose the Varoni. But someone did, my grandfather. It wasn't Pelagia, for she was concerned with taking care of the boy. And it wasn't my other aunts or uncles. Which leaves one other possibility. That which created you. The question is . . . what created you? And why did it intervene?"
Zeuran nodded. He had thought of that in the past. Many times, during the last nineteen mortal years, he had wondered about what had placed Mira in the camp of the Varoni, instead of the Terron camp. What fate had chosen those for her adoptive people?
Zeuran had no memory beyond a certain time . . . his memory had begun with his marriage to Adara, the mother of his five children. He didn't remember anything before. And he had created Adara from the sea and the earth, or so she had told him. He didn't remember.
And together, they had created the humans. They had created five children. And it was a magic spell cast by Math, their son, which had ended Adara's life. To this day, Zeuran didn't know what his son had done. But on that morning, almost a million years earlier, Zeuran's family began crumbling.
"Grandfather . . . come. There are others who need you, and at the moment, Amerys doesn't realize she needs you," Sula said gently. Zeuran nodded with a sigh, and the waters returned to normal. But in his heart was an image of the girl whom Amerys was once. Whatever had created him, whatever had placed little Mira in the arms of the Varoni, he hoped it would now look after Amerys..
~*~*~*~
As the sun began to set, Dar began to look around for a campsite. It was too dark to continue travelling, and Aveta was getting fussy. And Dar knew better than try to keep moving with a fussy, or crying, child. That would gather unwanted attention.
Once camp was set up, Dar fed Aveta. He had dumped the remaining milk after their midday meal, cringing at the smell. But it was mysteriously refilled. Which probably meant that that Pelagia had provided the milk.
Once he fed her, he checked her swaddling clothes. She was clean, and Dar burped her after she was done with the milk. Which was why he was puzzled when she started crying about a half hour later. He checked her swaddling clothes once more . . . dry and clean, the problem wasn't there.
She had been fed . . . the swaddling clothes weren't too tight, she could move her legs. Dar began walking around the camp with the child, but that didn't ease whatever troubled her. Dar sat down, and Tao began talking to the little one. That didn't help either.
And then Curupira appeared, demanding, "What is that gods-awful noise?" Then she detected the source of the noise, and sighed in exasperation. She stomped over to Dar and plucked Aveta from his arms, muttering, "Worthless! Don't you know anything about babies, BeastMaster?"
With that said, she began to sing to the child. Dar blinked and looked first at Aveta . . . who was starting to settle down . . . then at Tao. Then a mind-voice rasped against his own, I knew that she only wanted someone to sing to her, youngling.
Dar glared at Ruh, answering, "Well, you could have told me!" Curupira glared at them both, and Dar sat down before she could do worse than just insult him. He looked at Tao, who was struggling to keep from laughing, and asked, "And exactly what is so funny?"
"Well, Ruh probably didn't tell you because he didn't want to inflict our singing on her," Tao chortled. Dar looked at his friend, then shook his head. Curupira singing to a baby. Ruh understanding what the child needed. Now this. He really hoped things didn't get any stranger!
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