Tuya spread the ointment of the numbroot stem over Masarga’s cuts and squeezed her bony palm to stop the bleeding. Masarga kept her head down and chewed the numbroot leaf. No cries of pain emerged from the small, underfed mouth of one who knew almost nothing but pain.
Tough little wilder, Tuya thought, feeling love for this little girl that reminded her so much of herself when she was that small. Just like the Tuya of old, her mind radiated fear and shame. Short of her quota, desperate to avoid another beating, Masarga had reached into the brambles for the berries. Getting hurt was a cause for getting screamed at, certain to result in being called stupid and worthless. Not bringing in enough food was even worse. When both happened, your life was at risk.
Tuya knew too well what it was like to have your own mind twisted against you and it tortured her to see another child suffer that same misery. Helping Masarga find her strength, untwist her mind, and relinquish unwarranted shame became a priority nonpareil.
They lurked inside of a hollow barely large enough for a little girl like Masarga to lie down in. Dead leaves were strewn across the ground beside a small hide that would not even cover this tiny child. Nothing to soften the ground other than scratchy leaves, nothing to keep her warm, not even a paintaker to provide solace from suffering.
Tuya’s heart ached for her, and for the memory of the helpless little girl she once was. She touched Masarga’s mind, venturing into a space crowded by fear and shame. Brave girl, let me show you how strong you are.
Masarga’s fear expanded like the swelling of a bruise struck a second time. She flinched and curled up into a ball, her hand slipping away from Tuya’s.
It is me, Masarga. It is Tuya. Let me show you a way we can help each other, a way that you can find me even when you cannot see me, a way that you can listen to the wild and make things more of themselves.
I am not like you, Masarga projected, still keeping her mind closed, radiating the same deep sadness that kept Tuya curled upon the ground so oft in her life. Only you are Chosen. Only you are strong.
Tuya did not, nor could she, stop the tears falling from her eyes. She could not stop the injustices in this world, at least not on her own. For all the futility, she must try because Celegana’s strength was not a gift for her alone and she was tired of being alone with it. Wilders would return to the world and little girls would know their strength, would know it came from them, and not because some tamer chose them.
Tuya put her hands around Masarga’s back and placed her forehead on Masarga’s. The touch awakened a feeling buried below the fear, the shame, and the deep, deep sadness. Masarga hungered for love, just like a little girl who used to cling to Zaya. Tuya would sate her appetite, would be her Zaya. You have strength that scares them, Masarga. They want you to believe you are weak. They want you to be afraid instead of them. They want you to be ashamed, when they are the ones who shame Celegana. Tuya lifted Masarga’s chin until her eyes could see Tuya’s smile. For the first time, she saw Masarga’s beautiful smile. I know you are just like me, Tuya projected. You could listen to the wild and set it free. You could link with girls like us and make their pain smaller. You are amazing, just like you. When you see what I see, you will love you as much as I do.
Masarga’s eyes filled with water and Tuya let her look down at the ground, remembering how dangerous it was to look into another person’s eyes. Will they hurt me?
No, Tuya answered. We did this before, when you were hurt. They do not know about that and they will not learn about this.
Masarga’s mind opened and Tuya’s consciousness merged with hers. Just like me, Tuya thought, sensing the full experience of this child. So many familiar beliefs from her early years came back to her like cruel tamers returning from conquests in the faraway lands. These old dreads, these self-loathing threads, filled Masarga’s young mind, poisoning the strong, beautiful consciousness. Where joy should be, Tuya found apathy and agony and self-hatred. Masarga was convinced that she did what she should not do and was stupid for doing it. Whether linking with Tuya, or not finding enough berries, or reaching into the thorns, or any of the countless perceived errors, she saw only ugliness in herself. Tuya knew this girl well. It was like staring into the past and looking into herself.
Tuya’s understanding spread through Masarga’s consciousness. She did not challenge Masarga’s mind, did not try to argue with what she thought or why she thought it, but showed the girl who did her best with what life gave her another perspective from the eyes of one who had lived just like this and found the light within herself. Holding her body and mind, Tuya showed Masarga the beautiful, wonderful, lovable, strong, resilient girl she saw when she opened her eyes.
Masarga clung to Tuya’s love just as the neverborn had, even if she could not believe these same things about herself. I am a mistake.
Tuya held her and brushed her tangled hair, trying to untwist the lies. “When all we are ever told is that we are wrong, that is what we believe.” Tuya shared memories not unlike sticking her hand into the brambles, memories of weird rocks breaking and not bringing enough good water, memories of beatings and tamers screaming that she was a worthless khorota not worth the food she was fed. Masarga’s mind struggled to comprehend that even Tuya, even Gurgaldai’s Chosen, had once lived like her.
“We were never mistakes, Masarga. The only mistake here is that we are not allowed to make mistakes.”
The thoughts were too far from Masarga’s beliefs to be accepted. The soil was rotten and, for now, could only grow weeds tainted by the rot of self-hatred. Tuya could not change this soil with a single thought, or even with this flow of love. All she could do was plant the seeds of new beliefs and spend her days tending to the soil, fertilizing them with more love until, one day, beautiful flowers grew where once there were only weeds.
Someday, those flowers would flourish, and maybe even help others find their own. That would not be this day, and that was okay. Today, they were enough, and tomorrow they would be even more. Tuya kissed the top of the little girl’s head and caressed her mind with acceptance. Masarga’s hunger for affection kept her open, kept her receiving every drop of love that Tuya showered her with. No, Masarga did not love herself, not today, but she loved this feeling, and she loved Tuya.
You have the strength to link your mind with mine, Tuya promised. Think of me, think of joining our minds together, and I will be here for you.
Tuya broke the link. Masarga’s consciousness was there before she could blink, merging with her mind once more. Tuya did not need to feign her surprise at the speed and the size of Masarga’s consciousness. The little girl was more powerful than Sarnai had been, and mightier than most of the tamers Tuya knew. For the first time, Tuya sensed pride from this precious child as she realized the truth of her strength. Tuya could tell her all day and night that she was strong, but another’s words were no replacement for seeing one’s own strength through their actions.
I can learn to do the things you do?
“Yes,” Tuya said, nudging Masarga’s forehead. I will teach you everything I know about sensing the world around you, how to listen to the animals and the plants, about blessing things with Celegana’s strength and making them more of themselves.
Masarga’s delight pulsed through the link. The little girl was radiant with excitement as she imagined the possibilities. She would never be truly alone, never be lost, or need to risk putting her hand in brambles to avoid a beating. She would be a thought away from Tuya at all times.
The girl’s excitement spread through the link and Tuya caught it. Possibilities took root with her, seeding new dreams that before went undreamt in the Hollows. Hope blossomed within their link as Masarga saw the path to her empowerment and Tuya imagined a Hollows where every wilder was linked together in a union of sisterhood. She gave this vision to her accomplice. I will teach you everything I know and we will teach others to find their strength. Soon, nobody will suffer alone for we will always be together.
The dreams grew within them until the old nightmares returned. Yaha knocked on the outside of the hollow three times. Tuya stepped out of the little tree and held her ground like she held a spear as three tamers came forth. Masarga made herself small, shrinking inside of her hollow. The little girl’s newborn confidence and pride dissipated back into a raw terror that Tuya could only make smaller through the link.
Yadakh and Semug carried logs that were chipped at the end into ridiculous imitations of Yaha’s spear. They were way too thick and the chipped tips would pierce flesh little better than the unchipped end of the log. Yaha snorted and tapped the haft of her weapon against the ground, halting them well beyond the reach of their not-spears. Darrakh followed the other tamers, like a tail sticking out of their backsides.
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Yadakh was a burly man, full of dark hair that shot in every direction. He deepened his voice, but the trembling of his throat betrayed his fear even to one who could not sense emotions. “This little khorota owes me a bundle of berries.”
Tuya held her fighting stance, projecting poise and security through the link as Masarga cowered and clung to Tuya’s mind for support. “I think these tamers must be reminded of how we do things in this region. What do you think, Yaha?”
Yaha grinned with pure malice. “In my lands, those who still have their strength but demand the fruits of another’s labor are thrown into the evil water beyond sight of land.” Yaha stood tall, reaching higher than either of these stout men. “I wonder how well tamers swim.” She took a sudden step toward them. Yadakh and Semug scrambled to huddle behind the other while Darrakh grinned from the rear.
Semug stepped forward, with an evil sneer reminiscent of Makhun. “Things have changed since you dared to threaten me.” He took another step and stared into the point of Yaha’s spear. “The Great Ezen has declared that there will be no more threats from you, dark one.”
Tuya’s poise fractured as she realized just how frail she was without Gurgaldai’s blessing. Masarga’s fear expanded and she trembled behind Tuya.
Yaha drove the haft of her spear into the dirt. “Is that so?”
“It is,” Yadakh said, moving beside Semug, bearing the same sneer. “The mighty Gurgaldai says that if you so much as point your defiled stick at us he will disembowel his dark ones in front of you. He will do this until they are all dead and only then will he smash you into the mud where you belong.”
Yaha shook, her hand clenching the spear. Tuya put her arm around Yaha. “Gurgaldai has more dark farawaylanders?”
Semug’s eyebrows lifted. “You did not know this, Chosen?” He chuckled and Yadakh hooted with laughter. Behind them, Darrakh lowered his eyes.
Yaha spat through gritted teeth, “Lies.”
“It is the truth,” Darrakh said. “I saw them myself before I was sent away from the Spire.”
Yadakh guffawed. “Gurgaldai fills a different dark one with his giant breeder every morning and every night. Soon they will all have big bellies and yield mighty tamers that can jump like you.”
Semug howled with joy and Yadakh mimicked that horrid tamer hoot. Tuya never wanted to hear that again, never wanted to see these hideous monsters who took joy in such pain. Hate filled Tuya like a poison that seeped through the link. Masarga knew she was about to suffer, about to hurt, and that not even the mighty Tuya could stop it. She was as good as alone. This was what she deserved for even contemplating thinking that she was worthwhile, that she was anything more than a mistake. Feeling this girl’s pain, the hatred swelled in Tuya, swirling within her like a storm picking up and whirling all the fallen leaves and stripping the trees of every last one of their light drinkers.
“The berries,” Yadakh said, opening his palm.
“Masarga needs those berries!” Tuya said, her temper flaring like the hottest fire.
Yadakh shook his head. “Little khorota are fed what they are worth.”
“That is not true,” Semug said. “We do not always feed them nothing.”
The tamers hooted, except for Darrakh who lingered behind them, staring at his feet. Masarga’s desperation fused with Tuya’s need to protect her, fueled by memories of being this girl, by season after season of built up powerlessness. Tuya was not powerless anymore.
She seized Yaha’s spear and buried it into Semug’s throat. His hooting became wheezing as Tuya ripped the spear out. Semug’s blood spurted from his thick neck, coloring the air between he and Tuya. He put his hands to the wound, trying to stop its flow, but like time, it flowed on. Tuya held the spear, ready to strike, poised in her lion form. Semug stumbled toward her and she rammed the spear through his gut, once, twice, three times. Each thrust a catharsis, a release of seasons upon seasons of hate and rage carried by both Tuya and Masarga. The little wilder urged Tuya on, even as her fears of what came next gripped her.
Semug crashed to the ground, gurgling noises escaping him just like they had the mother of the neverborn. His small taming consciousness fled his dying body. Tuya knew she could not let him tame a final time and take vengeance on her or Masarga. She enveloped his mind with hers, restraining his consciousness as she clenched the spear and aimed at Yadakh. She thought of killing him too, of leaving no tamers to tell the tale, then saw Darrakh, terrified behind Yadakh, his eyes on Semug’s dying gasps. Semug’s consciousness battled hers, as Masarga’s fear built toward a crescendo. It was too much as Yaha stood frozen beside her, eyes wide and white against her dark face.
I will destroy you! Semug’s mind raged. He was too weak to be a true threat to her consciousness, but she sensed his yearnings. In his mind, he sought a bear, a strong clawed creature several times larger than her, and he would use that to hunt down Masarga. She held to his mind, not letting him go, held to the spear, not letting Yadakh go, held to Masarga, not letting her be alone, held to Yaha, not wanting her to hurt more than she already was.
She stepped toward Yadakh. “Gurgaldai has no authority over me and any who dare to hurt the khorota will answer to me. Do you understand, Tamer Yadakh?”
Yadakh kept his eyes on the spear, sparing one glance to witness Semug spewing and choking on his own blood. “Yes, Chosen,” he stammered, backing away from the spear. He turned tail and broke into a run through the forest, leaving a trail of fear and urine behind him.
“What have you done?” Yaha said, kneeling beside the corpse of Semug. “My people will pay for this, Tuya.”
Tuya huffed as she focused first on extinguishing the raging of Semug’s consciousness. She squeezed his mind, much like she had Makhun’s upon the beach, scenes of his life flashed in their link as he fought against her like a helpless woman being suffocated for daring to birth a girl. He screamed vitriol, empty threats, blaming her for everything wrong in his life, until, at last, his mind faded, his consciousness dying as his body ceased.
Tuya vaguely heard Yaha. “My girls are in pain and you bought them more misery.”
“Yaha!” Tuya stepped toward the Mahagan woman and Yaha flinched.
Yaha shook her head, tears hiding behind the veils of her eyes, shame and guilt leaking from her mind. “My girls.”
Tuya lowered the spear and exhaled her anger. “I will do what I can for them. I promise. I will seek out Gurgaldai today and I will make their pain smaller.”
Yaha shook her head. “You have already doomed them.” Yaha ripped the spear out of Tuya’s hands, revealing strength held back in their sparring, leapt into the air, and traversed the tree tops. Tuya did not have to imagine what it was like to have someone you loved held by a monster while you could do nothing to stop their pain. She let Yaha go, knowing that she needed to burn off the heat of her anger before Tuya could make her pain smaller. Besides, there was another who still needed her, and would accept her help.
Masarga remained rooted in Tuya’s consciousness, clinging to the safety she provided. Tuya ignored a dumbfounded Darrakh, stepped into the little hollow, and hugged Masarga. Tuya held her, physically, mentally, spiritually, trying to soothe the little girl’s fears, as well as her own anger. The kind touch helped her pass through the frantic rush, the queasiness, the hatred of her first kill. She remembered her purpose today and immersed herself in her love for Masarga. Honing in on that, holding the girl in her arms and her mind, everything else fell to the side. Her calm spread to Masarga, dimming panic into fear and fear into worry and worry into tranquility as she massaged Masarga’s back and promised that everything was going to be okay.
Use your strength, Masarga. Speak to the plants and listen to their stories. See if you can find any that are withering and need your strength to be themselves again. I will return to your mind before the big lightmaker goes to sleep.
Given purpose and told how to pursue it, Masarga’s anxiety gave way to excitement. Thoughts of listening to the wild coursed through her mind like good water. Tuya gave strength to those thoughts, willing Masarga to be more of herself until the girl grew antsy to get started.
Tuya laughed. I love you, she projected, transmitting the meaning of this wonderful word as she brushed the girl’s hair.
I love you, Masarga returned. Smiling, the girl rushed off into the Hollows to find plants to speak with before Tuya even severed the link.
Once Masarga’s excitement left her mind, Tuya awakened to the mess in front of her. Semug’s dead body, Yaha’s pain, Yaha’s people, Darrakh standing near, and Gurgaldai high in the Spire, all of these things needing to be dealt with. Her mind raced and she tried not to think about what she had just done and what she needed to do next. That only seemed to spur the thoughts on, making the idea of seeking out Gurgaldai bigger until it was her only thought.
“I will do what I can,” Darrakh said, “to keep Gurgaldai from blaming the dark farawaylander or knowing of the little khorota you protected.”
Tuya stared at this boy raised in the Spire who managed to retain compassion through the years of cruelty. Could he be real or just a mirage she wanted to see? She lowered her eyes, scared that he would reveal his cruelty at any moment, even more daunted by the possibility that he was real and that it was their chances of being together that were imaginary.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” Darrakh asked, his voice more mouse than man, seeming higher than she ever heard it.
His gaze darted to the side when she lifted hers. “Will you meet me tonight, after the big lightmaker goes to sleep, outside of my dark place?”
He lifted his head and his eyes touched hers. Her chest fluttered. Was she nervous or excited? Perhaps both were so intertwined that they were one, like tamer and wilder fingers interlocking?
“I will be there. When the big lightmaker hides.”
Tuya smiled. She remembered a phrase Yaha taught her, one of reunion and love from a land faraway. She spoke in the Leverian language, trying her best not to sound like a croaking empagong. “Until next time, Darrakh.”
He smiled and suddenly she felt much better, as if all it took to make pain small was the upturned lips and rising cheeks of the beautiful boy you admired.
She carried that smile a few strides before joy faded back to worry. Tuya dashed for the dark place, knowing she would need the security of her sanctuary to withstand what came next.