See Chapter One (A) for Disclaimers
And so, the night passed into day. The following morning, the two young men were up early and on the road before the sun had finished rising. Dar was anxious to reach his sister's village, and Tao? Tao was anxious to be out of an area he distrusted.
Once the baby had been fed and her swaddling clothes had been changed, the pair were once more on the road. Tao found himself wondering if the three siblings from the previous few days would keep their word. More to the point, did he want to meet up with that trio again, particularly Atalla.
True, she was a friendly child, once she didn't pretend to be something she was not. But the girl was still a force to be reckoned with. Tao grinned to himself, thinking about what she could become under the tutelage of Dar's older sister. Then his thoughts turned to Atalla's two brothers, and the initial meeting with the brothers during the ambush.
As he and Dar walked through the woods, Tao observed, "There are times when I would swear there is someone watching over us, Dar. I mean, think about it. Two travellers, with a tiger, an eagle, and two ferrets . . . and we're travelling with a baby. Aside from the attack of the siblings, it's been relatively peaceful."
"Well, Ruh told me that Pelagia watches over us often," Dar observed and Tao turned his head to hide his blush. The BeastMaster continued in a soft voice, "There are times when I wonder about that, you know. She saved my life when I was a child . . . yet, I never saw her again until . . ."
"Yes," Tao said softly, understanding. Until his sister had been returned to his life, until memories started returning. The scholar was silent for several moments, then asked, "Do you suppose she feels . . . responsible for you and your sister? Since she could only save you from the hunters?" Dar shrugged.
"I don't know," he admitted, "I learned a long time ago not to guess at the minds of the gods. Not even Pelagia. I remember when I was a child, my father telling me that Pelagia was the goddess who was the most like us. My aunt asked if that was a good thing . . . or if we should endeavor to be more like Pelagia."
"Excellent question," Tao observed, "for from what I can tell of the goddess, she is a most worthy lady indeed." Dar smiled and Tao continued, "What did your father say . . . and when he said Pelagia was most like 'us,' did he mean the human 'us,' or the Sula 'us,' for that does make a difference?" Dar laughed outright, his eyes sparkling.
"Father meant the Sula us . . . Aunt Aveta often wondered if we were truly Curupira's people, or Pelagia's. Never within Curupira's hearing, of course," the BeastMaster answered. Tao nodded in understanding. Dar continued, shaking his head and speaking almost to himself, "Strange. I hadn't thought of that in years. Mira is bringing back memories, even from a time when she wasn't there."
Tao decided that the reunion had been good for Dar in more than the obvious way. While the Sula, aside from Dar, Mira, and Kyra, were all dead, it seemed that the BeastMaster's sister had given him back his people. However, he changed the subject, telling his friend, "I'll keep a look out for those young ruffians, Atalla's brothers."
Dar just nodded and Tao quietly reflected that returning to the Varoni would be good for both of them. Dar still needed time with his sister, and Tao? He needed peace and quiet, in order to decide which questions to ask next. And he would get neither peace nor quiet on this journey, or any other he took with Dar. Tao grinned. While he had long had a capacity to get into trouble, he hadn't known just how much of an adventure life could be, until he met Dar.
~*~*~*~
Atalla took one last look around the house where she had grown up. She and her brothers had returned here, to see if there was anything left. Anything which they could sell or trade along the way, which might aid them on their journey, to wherever they were going. And Atalla, really, didn't even know where they were going.
But there was nothing left. Nothing, not even blankets. In the time since the Terron attack, either it had been stolen by those bastards, or looted. And in either case, Atalla supposed it really didn't matter. She had what she needed, they had survived with far less in the recent past. It was just that . . .
No. Atalla shook her head resolutely. No, she wouldn't cry. She told herself that she hadn't really come back here to take anything with her . . . only to find peace. To find resolution. See for herself that it truly was over, that she wouldn't return to the hut where she had lived for so many years, to find her mother sitting beside the fire, sewing. Atalla could tell herself that. But it was only partly true.
As Daneurth called to her, Atalla took one last look around the burned-out hut she had once called home. Looked at the place which had once been her corner, where she always retreated when she felt overwhelmed, or a need to be alone. Her special place. For a brief moment, tears filled her eyes, then she lifted her chin proudly. It was fitting then. The past would be buried here. And Atalla's future was waiting. A future which promised to be bright.
She squared her shoulders, adjusted what she carried in her arms, then walked out of the hut. Both of her brothers were waiting for her, but it was Daneurth who said, with uncharacteristic gentleness, "Are you ready, 'Talla?" The girl nodded and Daneurth told their brother Ryf, "Do it."
Atalla stepped to Daneurth's side, sighing quietly when he put his arm around her shoulders, and Ryf rubbed two stones together. While Atalla had been inside the hut, her two brothers had connected all of the huts with burning powder. At last, Ryf had a spark, and the fire was lit. Daneurth led Ryf and Atalla away from the burning circle.
"This way," Ryf said softly, "the fire will be contained, like Father taught us, and nothing outside the circle will burn. An unending circle of fire, in memory of our people." Atalla nodded, and Ryf said, "We'd best be away. The BeastMaster will be waiting for us, and the smoke is making my eyes water." Atalla smiled in spite of herself. Aye. The smoke was making her eyes water as well.
~*~*~*~
"Will you allow the fire to burn, Grandfather?" Sula asked, watching the children leave the ghost of their old village. He had been drawn to the sight . . . he had watched in anguish as his own people had been destroyed, just as the people of these children had been destroyed.
And then, as now, there had been three survivors. A brother and sister, unbeknownst to each other, and a young girl of mixed blood. Sula laughed at himself, at how arrogant he sounded. The Sula themselves were a people of mixed blood, who was he to pass judgment on Laeson for marrying outside the tribe?
He supposed what he really had against Kyra was that she hadn't put up more of a fight. Then again, he also supposed he was asking too much of a nineteen year old girl. Just because his own Loyra had been a hellion. Along with Mira, the mother of Etain and Aveta.
He shook his head, disgusted with himself. The fact was, he was angry with his esteemed uncle. The damn sorcerer was a coward, had never had the courage which was required to love. And because of that weakness, he had doomed countless others. Including Sula's own parents. And for that last, he would never forgive Math.
When he received no answer, Sula turned . . . his grandfather was no longer there. He sighed, and turned back to the scrying bowl. Grandfather often did these things. Went off by himself, sometimes to chastise one of his children, sometimes . . . sometimes to do other things. Sula supposed it was too much to hope that his grandfather planned to take some action against Math.
"You have very little faith, nephew," Ylara observed, stepping to the scrying bowl. She looked no more than thirty, the same age as Sula's descendent Mira. But she had appeared to be thirty for as long as Sula could remember, and Sula was a few thousand years older than Curupira. His brat cousin, who was nonetheless dear to his heart.
"It isn't a matter of faith, Ylara. I know my uncle. When will he be satisfied, can you tell me? When he's laid waste to my grandfather's creation? When every heart has been broken, when every life has been destroyed? When will he be satisfied, this changeling which calls my grandfather 'father,' or will that ever happen?" Sula asked bitterly.
"I'm not asking you to have faith in Math," Ylara answered quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder, "because it's not my place. I'm asking you to have faith in us. In Pelagia, in my father. And in those children. Yes, Dar and Mira are but mortals. But you know yourself, while living among those mortals, just how powerful they can be."
But they were talking about two different things. Sula found it hard even to have faith in his grandfather, when it came to his Uncle Math. Sula understood why his grandfather found it so difficult to take a stand with his unruly son. But still . . . Sula shook his head, focusing instead on what his aunt had said about the mortals. Particularly the power of his two descendents.
She wasn't even talking about the power of the gods. She wasn't talking about the power which his uncle wielded. He called himself 'The Ancient One,' a sorcerer. Which he was. But he was also the god of sorcery and deception. And now, he was a bloodsucker of the worst kind. His aunt Pelagia had spoken truly on that matter. Sula had not be present at that conversation, but he had heard about it later. And she was right. Math was a blood-sucker.
"Love and faith are the two most powerful tools which those children have. They can't do it alone, they need each other. Dar, Tao, Mira, Gereon, Marinde, Ari . . . they all draw strength from each other. They learn from each other. They are strong for each other. That is what my brother is so very frightened of them. Because together, they represent a force which not even he can defeat," Ylara said, drawing his attention back to the topic at hand.
"Pelagia said something to Curupira which I happened to hear. She said that because the humans live such short lives, it's necessary for them to learn more. You and Grandfather and Pelagia . . . you are gods. All-powerful. Immortal. So, it wouldn't be necessary for you to learn," Sula began and Ylara nodded.
"Yes. I heard my sister's conversation with little Curi as well. And Pelagia is right. Don't you see, Sula? This is the reason for which my father created the humans! They can do what the gods cannot. Defeat my brother, because they have weapons which we do not. We are bound by rules, rules which have no meaning to the humans," she replied.
"Because they do not have your power. They only have the power of each other. Do you really believe that will be strong enough?" Sula asked, weariness starting to set in. Ylara waved her hand over the scrying bowl and Sula looked into the water, at his descendents. And at the three young survivors now on their way to join Dar.
"Think on it this way, nephew," Ylara answered. "Those five stand a greater chance against possible Terrons than one would. Because they are fighting for something. Imagine what is possible against my brother. The mortals will do the rest." She smiled, touched his shoulder, then disappeared.
Sula looked around the chamber . . . he hated it when his divine family disappeared like that. Curupira did it, her mother did it . . . Curupira's own twin sister did it. Perhaps it bothered Sula because he couldn't do it. He was the grandson of a god, grandson of the godking himself . . . that didn't mean he was immune to jealousy.
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