While Tuya intended to never submit again, to never be at the whims of any tamer the way Makhun, Zalmug, and so many others had determined the flow of her life, she knew they would claim any opportunity they could to push her down and make her small again. She took Yaha to the dark place, seeking to retreat into a protective shell, much like the tortoises that sometimes found their way in her sanctuary. Within this shell, she would grow strong and emerge ready to make pain smaller for those still at the mercy of tamers.

At least that was a better story than admitting you were terrified of Gurgaldai, of Chimaera, of the vast horde of tamers who despised her, of needing to be ever vigilant, and, worst of all, of failure. Tuya sensed many fears flowing through Yaha’s mind, like water overflowing a weird rock and dripping through all the cracks at once. Captain Yaha’s eyes were those of so many women in the Hollows, staring ahead but seeing only dread. Still, she followed Tuya into the dark.

Tuya’s eyes lit the place, beaming brightness to the corners of her periphery, illuminating the discarded hide bundle of food and numbroot blessings, left behind the day Sarnai died. Tuya knelt over them feeling Sarnai’s pain, her own pain, bite like the teeth of a chimaera. She clenched the hides and thought of the hands that made them, of the smile that carried her through many seasons, of the beloved face ruined by her own hands.

I beat him, Sarnai. I destroyed Makhun. Tuya gripped the hides, searching for peace, and finding only the hollowness left behind where her love for Sarnai once resided. She stifled a sob and covered her eyes, leaving her and Yaha in the darkness, wishing that Sarnai’s light still lit this world.

Tuya wiped away the evil water. She could not undo the past, no matter how much she wished she resisted Makhun then, no matter how much she wished Sarnai were here with her, going down to the place she always wanted to see. Tuya lifted the bundle of hides and clutched them to her chest. I will bring you with me, Sarnai. I will be strong and I will be the best paintaker I can be.

Tuya wound through the dark place, her eyes scattering the bugs and leading Yaha into her world. The silent farawaylander followed, grim as every other farawaylander brought into the Hollows. Season after season of watching those women wither and die poisoned Tuya’s hope. Could she take away enough of this woman’s pain? Could she give her strength and life, like she was one of the numbroot on the far side of the dark place? Or, would she soon be clutching to Yaha’s not-hides, missing the woman inside of them, swelling with sorrow and the memory of yet another failure? Tuya tried to cling to hope and wear it as the warmest hide, yet life left her cold and taught her to expect the worst for that was what she would forever get.

Tuya led Captain Yaha to the little flowing water running through the center of her dark place and found her firemakers. If she could make something warm and bright for Yaha, maybe that would heat the cold, dark places in her mind. She started the long process, determined to make her pain even the tiniest bit smaller, determined to let her know that one person in this world cared, knowing that what Tuya wanted most of all were those exact same things. Thus, Tuya arranged the firemakers and began furiously scraping little branches together. Her arms grew tired, so long deprived of food and exercise. She sighed, head down, trying not to cry, trying not to give up. Celegana, why must life be so hard?

“Let me show you,” Yaha said, stepping between Tuya and the firemakers. Then, Yaha did something no less impressive than soaring into the air like a great wingless bird. From within her not-hides, the tall woman removed a dark, lustrous rock and a hard, shiny weird rock. Captain Yaha of the Sixty-Four made magic, sparking a fire with a single strike of these two rocks, and blowing upon the firemakers. Faster than Tuya could believe, the fire’s heat and glow pushed away the darkness and dampness of the dark place.

“How do you do this? This magic?” Tuya stammered.

Yaha chuckled, her fear and sorrow dimming as the light and heat expanded. “There are many magic things in this world beyond the Celegan Hollows. I will teach you these things, Tuya.”

Tuya wrapped around the fire, watching Yaha put the two rock things back in her not-hides. Impossible. They just disappear.

Yaha pointed at the magic place where the things hid. “Khalaas.”

“Khalaas?”

Yaha nodded. “You put things inside them and your khuvtsas keeps them safe with you.”

“Khuvtsas?”

Yaha’s eyes widened. She took a deep breath and ground her teeth, her mind searching for a way to explain things. “Things you wear.”

Tuya extended her fingers toward the khalaas. “Can I?”

“Please do.”

Tuya reached into Yaha’s khalaas, afraid of what she might find, like sticking your hand in a bush and reaching for berries but knowing there might be nasty thorns ready to rip at your skin. She touched the shiny weird rock firemaker and recoiled, even though it was smooth and cool. Khalaas. Tuya comprehended this magic, these pockets, hidden places within khuvtsas. She gestured to the not-hides. “Khuvtsas. Your not-hides.”

“Yes. Not-hides. In other places, we use different plants to make things we wear so they are not all made from animal hide or fur. Khuvtsas.”

Khuvtsas. Clothes. A feeling of wrongness welled within Tuya, the same she felt when she saw the dead trees Yaha rode to get over the evil water. “Do the plants know their purpose is to become clothes?”

Yaha laughed, her sorrow muting further. Tuya tried to touch her mind, to explore whether this was the laughter of a tamer looking down upon a khorota or the, in Tuya’s experience, much less common humor of a khorota finding something unexpected and endearing, like how Tuya would feel watching the reaction of a little girl tasting her first sweet fruit. Tuya pressed her consciousness near Yaha’s, sensing both feelings there, like light from the big lightmaker sneaking through two dark rainmakers.

The fire crackled between them, roaring up, even as Tuya felt herself dwindling and a cold grow between her and this woman who thought her ways were better than Celegana’s. Yaha confirmed what Tuya already sensed. “You have much to learn, Tuya. I can teach you about many things that the Celegan Empire refuses to consider.”

“Abominations. Desecrations. Heathen things.”

Yaha’s humor vanished, retreating back within those dark clouds blocking the light from her sky. In its stead, emerged a new tide of irritation, flowing like evil water through her. Tuya folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself, dread welling within her as it turned out that even farawaylanders that seemed like they would protect you and care about you still tried to make you small.

“Where I come from,” Yaha said, explaining as if Tuya were the dumbest child ever to discover how to draw breath, “we create things with the blessings of Celegana and we respect her natural order. We respect the power and gifts of each of the Thirteen and the Fourteenth too. We do not close ourselves off from all just to narrow our eyes upon one. Using Celegana’s blessings, we create new things that allow us to live better lives, to do great things like riding our zavis over the tengis.”

Tuya hugged herself tighter, and she clung to Celegana, the mother who gave her this dark place, who provided for all her children, who the farawaylanders defiled with their desecrations. She did not know some of the words Yaha used, and she did not want to know them, did not want to betray the Mother by learning about desecrations. She rejected Yaha as mother and knew not how to go forward with this person who saw defiling Celegana as good. Tuya retreated into the shell of silence. Yaha followed, poking sticks into the fire, prodding, probably trying to do more heathen magic, probably thinking of ways to trick Tuya away from the one who gave her what she needed to survive, who sheltered her and gave her blessings even when her sons hated her and tried to take them away.

Tuya chose her true mother, got up from the fireside, and tended to the numbroots on the wall. Yaha followed, watching as Tuya listened to the deprived needs of the beautiful blessings Celegana gave her. They wanted strength, light, and love. Tuya reached out to them, touching them with Celegana’s strength, with her love, beaming light from her eyes upon them, helping them become their best selves as they grew, undoing a season of wither alone in the dark without their strengthgiver. She felt right with herself, with mother, doing what she was meant to do, being who she was meant to be, not defiling the world with arrogance that she was better than Celegana. Yaha could keep her zavis and her tengis and her clothing with the pockets. Tuya had everything she needed.

“Amazing,” Yaha said, her awe flowing from her mind and filling the dark spaces between them.

Tuya harbored her feeling of vindication, that Celegana received the praise and wonder she merited. Let this farawaylander know that one did not need to twist nature to do amazing, magical things. “I listen to them and I give them strength to make them more of themselves. All we need is Celegana’s blessings.”

“To make something more of itself, to change wither to growth, Celegana’s blessings are truly amazing,” Yaha agreed. Tuya sensed the undertow to her words, anticipating and still surprised by what came next, “and you make use of the blessings of Norali too. It is Norali’s light that shines from your eyes and allows you to see in this place, to create light so that others may see, and to be your full self. To be both a wilder and a lightseer,” Yaha took in a deep breath, “I doubt whether there has ever been another to wield both magics, especially with the strength you have in them. You are exceptional, Tuya.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

So, Yaha saw her as unlike any other. Tuya narrowed her eyes, sought out Yaha’s mind, and felt her hunger for Tuya’s power. She felt this before, sharing minds with Gurgaldai, as he delighted in what she could do. Tuya wondered what life would have awaited her if they returned to Yaha’s beaches and jungles. Would Yaha have taken her away to use her for her own goals, or her Ezen’s? Did she even care about Tuya or would she mutilate her far from her purpose just like the abominations her people made from the dead bodies of trees? Tuya realized then that no matter where she went, people would see her as unlike any other, and want to use her magic. As long as she was with others, she could never be free, and as long as she was alone, she could never feel cared for.

Her stomach swirled with nausea. She dimmed her eyes until the only glow in the dark place came from Yaha’s fire. Still, she needed answers and she needed somebody to care about her. She could not shell herself forever and she could not make Yaha’s pain larger, if she ever wanted this woman to care about her. “Who is this Norali you speak of?”

Yaha grinned. “A beautiful goddess just like Celegana, one from the land your mother was taken from, from Isihla, a land far to the omnod, past the Great Atmana Forest and the Heiyan Ovsurgamal, beyond the Asalahm, in the great sands of your ancestors. Norali is the light and the hope, the one who never gives up when it is dark, the one who never stops shining light to help others find their way. She is the one who blessed you with your eyes that can see in darkness, that can find the smallest details, that make visible all magic in this world, and shine a light wherever they go.”

Tuya turned away from Yaha. Isihla. The land of the sands that Zaya told me about. She could not doubt Zaya and that meant this Norali must be real. She wept, silently, understanding that a second mother watched over her. Norali sounded like a good mother, one who gave her what she needed to endure, one who came to her when she needed a light in the darkness, and hope amidst a hopeless day. For seasons, it was this Norali that helped her hold onto hope even in the Hollows where hope was a rare thing. Tuya could find place in her soul for both of these mothers, she could accept this truth, and that meant that Yaha did have things to teach her, things she wanted to know, skills she needed to learn like soaring into the air and fighting tamers with the pointed stick things. Tuya wiped away her tears and turned her eyes back on, ready to give Yaha a chance, ready to learn, as long as what she learned respected both Celegana and Norali.

Tuya pulled leaves from the numbroot, chewed some herself, and offered a handful to Yaha. The farawaylander woman raised her brow. “You eat leaves?”

Tuya pushed down her irritation. As she knew little of this woman’s world, Yaha knew little of hers. It was time to learn of each other if they were going to emerge from this shell stronger. Tuya pointed toward her crotch. “They stop blood and,” she grinned with the bitter taste overpowering her tongue, “are delicious.”

Yaha nodded, took the leaves, and chewed them as if she was afraid they were undercooked meat. Yaha cringed at the taste and Tuya tried to hide her glee at the woman pretending to enjoy their horrid taste. “What else do you eat down here?”

Tuya smiled. “Nothing so good as numbroot leaf.”

Yaha’s eyes bulged and Tuya giggled, grabbing her pained stomach. “Come,” Tuya said, guiding her to the good flowing water and telling her how to make use of Celegana’s blessings. Yaha proved good at catching shrimp and fish, even without having the ability to sense where they were lurking and flowing through the good water while Tuya gave strength to and gathered mushrooms. Tuya felt good, watching the dream come true of having somebody help her and share in this place. Yaha made skewers and started roasting their finds while Tuya filled her big weird rock with water.

She offered her small weird rock to Yaha. “Put the good water in the weird rock and drink.”

Yaha took the weird rock and said, “Ayaga. This is ayaga.”

“Little weird rock,” Tuya said. “For carrying good water.”

Yaha spoke a few words in her own language, the one with those soft sounds.

“Can you teach me to speak like your people?”

Yaha beamed. “Yes, I speak many of the tongues. Your xhoomei Giidite, the nearly-as-harsh Volqori, my own Leverian, and the even more soft Kavovan. I would teach you all of these, Tuya, but first I would give you the words of your own people that they do not speak.” She pointed to the little weird rock, “Ayaga. A thing to hold drink.”

Ayaga. Tuya pointed to the little weird rock, internalizing the meaning of the word ayaga. “Cup.”

“Yes,” Yaha smiled, “these cups, these weird rocks and all things like them made of temurkhiitz were left behind in the Hollows when the Giidites ruled here. I will teach you the name of every one of these things.”

Tuya nodded, eager to learn new ways of speaking. For so long, the farawaylanders in the Hollows went unheard. If Yaha could teach her how to speak to them, how to understand them and have them understand her, she could make their pain smaller. Yaha taught her more words as they roasted their skewers. The big weird rock was “pot” and made from “clay” and other pieces of earth into something called “ceramic.” Tuya’s mind hungered more for new words than her belly did for food and her skewer went uneaten as she asked more questions. Yaha begrudgingly answered each one as she fought for the space to take bites of their “lunch,” a thing eaten in the middle of the day.

Tuya still had most of her skewer, her hunger far from sated. “What do you know of Isihla?”

Yaha dipped her toes in the good flowing water and contentment oozed from her mind. “You look like the people who live there and have their rarest gift. A woman is their narxatah and she and her daughters all have eyes like you, eyes of pure mongo like the odod in the sky.” Yaha twisted her neck to see Tuya sidling up beside her, putting her feet in the cool water. “I met her once,” Yaha said, “Kahinallah, daughter of Ishra. We talked about clothes.”

Tuya giggled, partly for Yaha speaking with this woman about not-hides and for the new words to learn. “Narxatah? Mongo? Odod?”

Yaha pinched her cheek and a warmth flowed through Tuya as the woman taught her about the Sun Queens of Isihla, the color called silver, and stars, what they called the little lightmakers that came out when the big lightmaker, Sun, was asleep. This led to other conversations and new words to learn about the faraway lands until Tuya’s mind was overflowing like a pot left in the flowing water. Finally, she set to eating her skewers and trying to remember everything while Yaha submerged herself into the flowing water.

Tuya lost herself in her own head, until Yaha’s sorrow intruded on her mind sense. The woman from the place called Caleel stood in the water, weeping quietly to herself, trying not to show Tuya her sadness. In that moment, Tuya’s own thoughts and worries could have been as faraway as Caleel. In that moment, only one thing mattered. Her mind reached toward Yaha’s, her care extended like a loving hand, I can make your pain smaller.

“No!” Yaha cried.

Tuya knew that resistance, knew what it was like to fail everyone you loved and to want to feel as much pain as possible because otherwise it would feel like you never loved at all, that they never meant anything to you. Tuya grabbed Sarnai’s hides and hugged them to herself, knowing that Tuya wanting to feel the pain never would have stopped Sarnai from trying to make it smaller. “I bring you with me,” Tuya whispered to the hides, hoping that somewhere, somehow Sarnai could hear.

Tuya reached her mind toward Yaha’s again, that sorrow still flooding into her mind whether she tried to touch her or hide from the pain. I know you feel like you owe them your pain, Yaha. Trust me, I know what it is like to feel like you have failed everyone that matters to you. I cannot take away that feeling, but I can share it with you, I can hold you while you feel it, and let you know there is one person who cares.

Yaha sobbed now, no longer the quiet, lonely pain she tried to hide away within herself in the dark. Her mind opened and Tuya entered into a realm of overwhelming sorrow and catastrophic loss. Olono, her life’s mate, the man who swam to the bottom of the sea and gave Yaha her pearl—the shiny rock on a vine thing at her neck—would never swim beside her again, never brighten her day with his big, goofy laugh, never, never, never again. Her crew was dead, or worse, in the hands of the tamers, one person from each of the sixty-four tribes and each of them holding a dear part of her heart, their names, quirks, and lives all ended. All of them, brought here by her, by her need to discover something new, to broker some new alliance, to find someone with khorota magic that could heal the plague festering in the heart of the Mahagan jungle, brought to their dooms because Captain Yaha’s ambition was not satisfied with being captain of the Sixty-Four, by her need to replace the hole within her that told her that with no child and no legendary deed, her life would be meaningless.

Now, Yaha was a sailor without a ship, a captain without a crew, a lover without her life’s mate, and a Mahagan without the shores of Caleel. Lost in the darkness and surrounded by tamers who wanted to break her, rape her, and throw her into the Endless Blue after they extracted every drop of life out of her.

Tuya could not take away her pain, this very real reminder of all Yaha had lost and her responsibility in losing everything that mattered to her. Tuya slid into the water and stood beside Yaha, putting her arm around her, searching for the perfect words but not knowing them. Any reassurance she offered would have been as hollow as the trees above them, Tuya could make no promises of an easy life, or even of ever feeling peace with the losses of today. After all, she brought Sarnai with her, and little Khula, and still could not forgive herself, only do her best to keep going.

She held Yaha and sobbed beside her for all she had lost and could never undo or get back. Their shadows danced, intertwined, flaring and fizzling with the flames at their back. Yaha twisted and embraced Tuya, clinging to the one thing they both found this day of loss. Through the link came Tuya’s belief that Yaha would go on, that she would carry Olono and all the others with her, that she would do her best, that she would jump high and soar far, that she would help Tuya become who she was meant to be. Yaha’s heart answered, wanting to go on for this girl unlike any other, wanting to teach her every word there ever was and how to fight for what was right in this world, wanting to believe that she still had a purpose even when it felt like everything was gone and the last thing that remained was to die in this horrible place, a forgotten footnote in the world’s song.

Words were such weird things. You could not touch them, but you could feel them. “I believe in you, Yaha,” Tuya said. “Lover of Olono, Captain of the Sixty-Four, Child of Caleel. Friend of Tuya. I will be here to remind you that you are not gone.”

Yaha tightened her grip on Tuya and kissed the top of her head. Her thoughts flowed, witnessing Tuya, this small girl full of love and hope despite being grown in a garden of hate and despair. She spoke the words she felt. “And I will believe in you, Tuya, child of the Hollows, lost daughter of the sands of Isihla. Even when you feel like you are not good enough, or that you have failed, I will be here to remind you that you did not fail me and that you are as good as they come. I may hurt, but I promise I will never give up on you.”

Tuya buried her head into Yaha’s chest, grateful that she was not alone anymore, grateful that her pain was smaller. Yaha’s pain did not vanish, but it grew smaller, shared within the link, touched by Tuya’s love. She clung to Yaha, right now only needing this feeling.

Yaha spoke the words anyway. “If you want to know every word, I will give you every one I have. If you want to learn the way of the spear, I am here to teach you. If you yearn for stories of the world beyond the Hollows, I will share all of mine. If all you want is somebody who cares,” Yaha released a choked sob, “I already do.”