CHAPTER TEN

The innkeeper, a bald man in his forties with a scraggly mop of hair and a trim brown beard, almost threw his back out bowing as Mizar strode through the door. He wasted no time directing Mizar and Vaxi to their rooms. He also informed them that Sen was waiting in the dining room, and that he’d had his cook prepare the best meal the King’s Rest was capable of serving, in honor of the High Mage’s visit.

The room was slightly larger than the one Vaxi had occupied in Deegan’s home. It housed a bed-frame with a soft mattress, a small table and chair, several shelves, and a medium-sized clay pot in the corner. On the table was a pitcher of clean water. She took a few minutes to moisten her hair and, using two small wooden rings, tie her hair back into a simple braid.

Refreshed, she joined Mizar and Sen in the dining room. It was a large, enclosed space, with many tables of various sizes and a warm, comforting fire ablaze in a small pit in the center, over which several containers of a boiling, sweet-smelling liquid brewed. Their table was in the back corner, presumably to keep their conversations as private as possible.

Both men rose as Vaxi made her way to the table. A variety of aromas, each one more wonderful than the last, filled her nostrils as she sat. A roasted bird that Vaxi could not identify graced a platter in the center of the table, surrounded by an assortment of vegetables and several fist-sized rolls of bread. Next to that was a small cauldron of bubbling soup that smelled so tasty she wanted to just dive right in. Her favorite smell, however, came from a large pitcher of steaming brown liquid that gave off a scent both spicy and sugary. That must have been what Mizar called honey cider.

As he had all day, Sen conspicuously avoided looking at her, instead concentrating on the food. His standoffish attitude was starting to annoy her. Right now, however, she was too hungry to care. Allowing Mizar to serve himself first, she ladled some soup into her own bowl before using a provided knife to carve a slab from the side of the bird onto her plate.

“Thank you,” she said to Mizar between mouthfuls. “For the arrows.”

Mizar looked up after taking a hearty gulp of his cider and nodded. “You are quite welcome. I know the bow is your weapon of choice, but it would make me feel better if you also took this.” He reached into his cloak and produced a small metallic object, which he laid on the table in front of her. It was a small dagger.

She picked it up, sliding it out of its sheath. The hilt looked similar to several swords displayed on Sevrin’s wall, with a circular pommel at the top of the handle. Inside the circle was an engraved symbol she didn’t recognize. Gripping the handle, she felt hard metal underneath the tightly-bound strips of rust-colored cloth. The hilt-guard was unremarkable, only a couple inches from end to end. The blade itself was about the length of her hand, and it tapered to a point that looked so sharp it could slice the air itself.

Vaxi halted her inspection when she saw both Mizar and Sen studying her reaction.

The gift worried her. She was on her way to Castle Randar, the home of King Aridor. Why would she not be safe there? Why would she need a dagger?

Unless ...

She fixed Mizar with a concerned stare. “Did you have a vision? Am I in danger where we are going?” Sen also looked at Mizar, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing.

Mizar held up his hands with a disarming smile. “No, nothing like that, my dear. Just an instinct I have. Sometimes, that’s all a person has to go on. As a huntress, I would think you’d understand that.”

She placed the dagger back on the table. “I do. But such a gift –”

“Is well within my means,” Mizar interrupted. “In the world you are about to enter, sometimes it is necessary to protect oneself. Should you and I be separated, this dagger will help you do that. It should fit snugly inside your boot, and is a useful tool in many situations that a bow is not.”

Curious to see if he was right about the fit, she reached down and slipped the dagger into her left boot. The sensation of the weapon pressing against her skin was unfamiliar, but not uncomfortable. “I humbly accept your gift, High Mage. What does the symbol mean?”

Mizar grinned. “It is an ancient Elystran symbol that means ‘protected one’.”

She looked over at Sen focusing on his half-empty plate, and she bristled again.

To combat her growing irritation, she took a slow sip of cider. It was like swallowing pure, comforting warmth. During the cold season back in the village, the tribe’s head preparer, Aarna, would often concoct her special brew of spicy tea and fruit juice along with several herbs, and it would warm Vaxi’s insides for hours. This, if it were possible, was even better. It was like wrapping oneself in lyrax pelts on a frigid night.

Just then, shouts and a loud rush of footsteps sounded over the crackle of the fire. The innkeeper bustled into the dining area, bowing as he reached their table. “Forgive me, High Mage,” he panted. “We are in need of your assistance.” His face was flushed, and he was wringing his hands in agitation.

Mizar dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “What is it, Varan?”

“The tavern down the street has caught fire!”

Mizar jumped to his feet, clapped the crumbs from his hands, adjusted his cloak, and took a deep breath. “I will be right back.”

“Do you want us to accompany you, Master?” Sen asked.

He shook his head. “No, you remain here. I will send for you if the need arises.” Then he turned on his heel and followed Varan out the door to the street.

Vaxi watched him leave, her eyes drifting to an elaborate tapestry on the far wall after he disappeared from sight. It was a vivid representation of the ringed city of Thage, though it appeared to depict a time when the city was not as large or populous.

A soft scraping sound drew her attention back to Sen, who had pushed his plate away from himself and was staring at his hands. She waited for him to meet her gaze, but he stubbornly refused to do so.

She considered reproaching him, but stopped herself when she remembered what Mizar had told her about Sen’s childhood. His father treated him much the same way her grandmother treated her, treatment that often included painful reminders of what a failure she was and how she could never live up to the standards set by her mother, Ilora.

She’d tried, year after year, to improve herself in Susarra’s eyes, becoming one of the Ixtrayu’s best trackers and archers despite her young age. No matter how much praise Runa or her sister huntresses gave her, no matter how many kova she successfully tracked and killed, all she got when she returned home was her grandmother’s disapproving frown. Nothing Vaxi did, she’d finally realized, would be enough to earn Susarra’s approval. Just like it had been with Sen and his father.

And now, thanks to the information she’d provided, Sen knew why his mother had hand-delivered him straight to his father: it was for no other reason than that he was a boy.

It wasn’t hard for Vaxi to figure out who among the Ixtrayu could have given birth to Sen. Only three had healing abilities that could have been passed along to him. Katura was far too old to be Sen’s mother. Sershi was far too young. It could only be Lyala.

Because of Vaxi’s many injuries, she’d been to see Lyala numerous times over the course of her adolescence. Though Lyala hadn’t spoken directly to Vaxi about her children, she’d once overheard Kelia say that Ixtrayu mothers who had to give up their sons often did so reluctantly, and for Lyala it had been especially difficult.

Looking at him now, it struck her just how alike Sen and Lyala were, as well as how much he resembled not only Lyala but her daughter Sershi: they were all tall, thin, quiet, and studious, with dispositions that seemed outwardly fragile but hid an inner strength. There was also a sadness that emanated from them, a sense of loss that hung in the air around them like a mist.

Eight hundred years of tradition. The Ixtrayu had accomplished so much. But it hadn’t been without casualties.

Vaxi reached out and placed a hand on Sen’s wrist. “Sen?” Her voice was a hushed whisper, and she hoped he wouldn’t lash out.

Inch by inch, he raised his head. A fierce storm brewed in his sky-blue eyes. He said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Again, she waited for him to reply, to pull away, to bow his head again. For long seconds, he just continued to stare at her. Finally, a barely audible “For what?” escaped his lips.

She lowered her voice to match his. “For what your father did to you. For what my people did to you. For what I did to you.”

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He stared at his plate again. “You didn’t do anything to me.”

“I struck you. Twice. I know I hurt you.”

“You were delirious. And I healed myself afterward.”

“You’re not ... angry?”

He shook his head.

She squeezed his hand tightly. “Then why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you even look at me?”

His shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh as he met her gaze again. “For most of my life, I wondered why I was brought into this world. I wondered why any woman would choose to mate with such a bitter, hateful man as my father, let alone abandon a helpless child to his care. Every second of every day, he and his other sons made me feel worthless. I used to dream of my mother coming to rescue me from that place. But it never happened.

“When I turned sixteen and was finally old enough to fulfill King Sardor’s decree that I travel to Dar and be tested for Wielding abilities, I was sure my father would find a way to stop me, to keep me under his thumb. But he didn’t. The day I left, he gave me no provisions, no well-wishes, not even a single coin from his bulging purse to make my journey easier. All he said was, ‘Finally, you’ll be someone else’s problem.’”

Vaxi winced at the words, the tone of which was all too familiar.

He continued, “It took me seventeen days. I had to beg for transport, for money, for food every step of the way. But I made it. That day, there were forty other boys my age, from all over Darad, standing in front of the Castle Randar. I’d heard stories about the place, but seeing it in person ... it was wondrous. Magnificent. A fitting home for the King of Darad.

“We were led into the castle and through a large gate that led directly into Mount Calabur. No one spoke as we emerged into the Crystal Cavern, the single largest room to be found anywhere on Elystra.” He smiled. “Master was there, and he greeted us as if we were all potential apprentices. One by one, each boy stood on the Nexus, waiting for Arantha to reach down and touch him. He didn’t, of course. Apart from Master, no boy had been revealed as a Wielder in the last forty years.”

“And then came your turn,” she said.

He nodded. “I was the last one to go. I was sure I was going to faint, or trip and fall, or do something else to humiliate myself. I remembered that this was the moment I’d longed for my whole life. I was determined, for the first time, to carry myself like a man.”

A beatific smile spread over his face, and Vaxi returned it. “When I felt ... it, I wasn’t sure whether it was Arantha or my own nerves taking over, until the Cavern started to glow as all the tiny crystals that line the walls suddenly came to life. And then there was another light. A light coming from me. From me.”

“That must have been amazing,” she said.                         

Sen gently enclosed his other hand around hers. “Do you know what a senkoot is?”

She shook her head.

“It’s an insect that burrows deep into the hair of farm animals, like gurns and havsu. They attach themselves to the skin near the beast’s stomach, and nourish themselves on what they can suck out.”

Vaxi knitted her brow. “What does that have to do with –”

“It’s also my name.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Your father named you after a –” She shook her head in disbelief.

“A parasite, yes. That’s what I was to him.” A glistening tear slid down his cheek. “But when Master approached me in the Cavern and asked my name, I told him it was Sen. That was what I would be called from that day forward.

“I had a destiny now. I was to become an apprentice to one of the greatest men on all Elystra. I would be educated, and trained,” his voice became breathy, “and I was never going to be that parasite again.”

Vaxi pressed her lips together, slamming her eyes shut to keep her own tears at bay. She and Sen had so much more in common than she could have imagined. Despite her horrible treatment at the hands of her grandmother, at least she’d had friends, people who showed her respect, including the Protectress. Sen had gone through his torments alone.

He shouldn’t have had to, she thought. We shouldn’t have made him. As children, Ixtrayu are taught to hate men for their cruelty, their arrogance. But we’re no better than they are, are we?

Sen continued, “I’m sorry I’ve been ... you know, like this. It’s just ... knowing what you are,” he cast his eyes to the table again. “I look at you, and all I see is the woman who denied me the happy childhood I could have had.”

Vaxi nodded, withdrawing her hand from his. She rolled up the sleeve of her tunic and raised her right arm, showing off a deep scar that ran horizontally just below her armpit. “Do you see this?”

He nodded. “I saw it when I healed you. You have many scars.”

“Do you know how I got them?”

“Hunting?”

“Some of them, yes. The rest, including all the ones you didn’t see, were given to me by my grandmother.”

His eyes widened.

Vaxi told him how her mother had died when she was only five years old, and how Susarra had asked Kelia, her mother’s companion, to give her the right to raise Vaxi herself. Kelia, having just birthed a daughter of her own and having recently taken over as Protectress, agreed. So, on top of losing her mother, she spent the next twelve years having her self-esteem ground into dust.

“May I ask you something?” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“You said your grandmother sent you to Darad to,” his face reddened, “to get pregnant, is that right?”

“It is.”

“Is that ... is that still your plan?”

She thought for a few moments, then shook her head. “It was never my plan. I thought it was Arantha’s plan. I now know that was only a convenient lie to tell myself. Who knows, maybe Arantha put the idea in my head to get me away from her. Now, I am convinced that my path, for the moment anyway, seems to lie with Mizar.” She smiled warmly at him. “And you.”

His lips curled into the most adorable smile she’d ever seen on a person, complete with dimples. “I will do whatever I can to help you along that path,” he said.

“Thank you, Sen.” She returned her attention to her meal, which she’d nearly finished. She tore a hunk off another bread roll, dunked it in her lukewarm soup and popped it in her mouth.

“There is one other thing I’d like to ask, if I may,” he said.

“Anything.”

“What’s her name? My mother?”

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she shuffled her feet in indecision.

Before she could answer, however, a preteen boy rushed into the dining room, grabbed Sen’s arm and motioned for him to follow. “Please! Come quick! The High Mage needs you!”

Sen immediately grabbed his satchel and rushed out the inn’s door. Vaxi, not wanting to be alone, followed.

The boy led them down the street, where a thin haze obscured her vision and the smell of burnt wood choked the air. As they neared what Vaxi assumed was the tavern, she could see that one entire side of the building had been burned away. Scorch marks and ash littered what was left of the walls and furniture.

Vaxi saw Mizar waving at them from up the street, where a sobbing woman held an unconscious boy of no more than five in her arms, his face blackened with soot and several ugly blisters on his chest. What remained of his shirt lay in tatters on the ground nearby.

Sen sprinted to the boy’s side. He reached into his satchel, produced a pair of large green leaves, and squeezed them between his palms. Closing his eyes, he then laid his hands on the boy’s chest.

Vaxi, along with the rest of the crowd, watched in awed silence as the healing power of Arantha flowed through Sen and into the unconscious youth. After several tense moments, during which the entire crowd held its breath, the boy coughed, and his eyes fluttered open. The pure joy on the mother’s face as she clutched the boy to her chest, staring with adoration at the young man who had saved him, was something Vaxi knew she would never forget.

She began to clap. Others joined in. Before long, Mizar had to pull Sen to his feet to face the cheering mass of onlookers that, on this night, realized just what a special person the High Mage’s apprentice was.

* * *

Sen treated five other people for minor burns, making sure to leave no one out, before packing up his satchel and walking, rather unsteadily, back to the inn. Several people, older women mostly, detached themselves from the crowd to convey their thanks or give him hugs. Through it all, he just smiled and nodded.

After climbing the stairs to their rooms, Mizar gave Sen a proud, paternal pat on the back before telling him and Vaxi to get some rest, as they would be resuming their journey to Dar early the next morning.

As their rooms were right across from each other, Vaxi decided to escort Sen until she could get him inside. After passing through the doorway, he flung his satchel onto the chair and exhaled.

He turned to see Vaxi’s face scrunched up with worry. “I know I must look horrible, but I’ll be fine. I’m just tired,” he said.

“It’s not that.” She took a tentative step toward him.

“What, then?”

Her lip trembled. “Are we really going to the castle tomorrow?”

He nodded.

“Am I going to meet the King?”

He shrugged. “You might.”

“How frightened should I be?”

He put his hands on her arms. “King Aridor is a great man. His is the voice of justice and reason.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Not everyone’s in the castle’s is, that’s for sure ... but his is the only one that matters.”

“This world ... it’s so big,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “I feel so lost in it …”

“Hey,” Sen said reassuringly. “You have my Master, and you have me. We’ll keep you safe. I will do all I can to help you. You have my word.”

Suddenly overcome by anxiety and homesickness, she stepped into him, folding her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his shoulder. Her stomach fluttered as he returned the embrace.

For the first time in her life, she was in the arms of a man.

A strange warmth pulsed through her body, causing her heart to race. She felt her sensitivity to her surroundings heighten, and her uncertainty and doubt inexplicably lessen. In this moment, she felt a happiness, a contentment previously unknown to her. She did not want to let go. Despite the smell of smoke and sweat suffusing his clothes, she clung to him like her very soul depended on it.

She moved her eyes to meet his, and an eternity passed between them.

When her grandmother described for her the process of impregnation, she winced as she imagined it happening to her. It sounded awful, painful, yet another torture she had to endure in her young life. The idea of a man pawing at her naked body with his clumsy, grubby hands, smiling vacantly as he penetrated her, turned her stomach. Every Ixtrayu in history had had to endure such debasement, Susarra told her; a necessary evil to ensure the tribe’s survival. Sacrificing her body for the greater good. A means to an end. Men were not capable of love, or intimacy, or tenderness.

All lies.

In the last few days, she had encountered evil men. But she’d also discovered men of wisdom, artistry, and compassion. She’d met a boy who made her feel ... she couldn’t even describe the feeling. She had nothing to compare it to. A warm, soft, crawly feeling in the pit of her stomach, like a tiny animal awakening from a long sleep.

There was no pain, only a pleasant numbness spreading through her. And she was enjoying it. Oh, yes, she was enjoying it. Pressed up against him, she found herself trembling. She was startled to realize Sen’s body was trembling as well.

Her self-induced trance was broken when Sen released her, cleared his throat, and took a step back. It looked as if all the blood in his body had gone straight to his cheeks. “Um, I guess we’d better ...”

“Get some sleep,” she finished, nodding three times before turning toward the door. “Yes. Sleep. We need sleep. Sleep is good.”

The rush of blood to her own cheeks made her wobble as she stepped through the door. She was just about to close it behind her when she faced him again. “Sen?”

“Yes?”

She gave him her warmest smile. “It’s Lyala.”

“What is?”

“Your mother’s name ... it’s Lyala. She’s kind, like you. And she’s a healer, like you. So is your sister.”

His eyes nearly doubled in size. “Sister?”

“Yes. Her name is Sershi.”

His breath hitched, and his hands shot up to cover his face. He closed his eyes briefly and turned away. After a few deep exhales, he dropped his hands and whispered, “Thank you, Vaxi.”

“Sleep soundly, Sen,” she said as she closed the door.