Spin of Fate, page 19
“Ran,” greeted Taralei. “Come, we’re finalizing the refreshments for tonight.” She held out a bottle filled with a clear gold liquid. “Would you like to sample some in advance? It’s Amaratisian wine, courtesy of Hiraval.”
She began pouring a glass without waiting for his response. Aranel accepted it, and Aina held out an eager hand.
“She’s not of age,” said Aranel, but Taralei ignored him and poured a second glass of the glistening drink.
Aina lifted it to take a tentative sip. “This is divine!” she declared. “What’s this sweetness?”
“A single drop of holy nectar from the depths of Mir Amaratis,” said Hiraval. “It is the finest wine in all of Mayana, and you mustn’t let Reimi tell you any different.”
“I didn’t know priests were allowed to drink,” said Aranel. He’d seen Taralei and Reimi sipping plum wine some evenings, but Hiraval never indulged with them.
“I am no priest, but a Balancer,” replied Hiraval. “And tonight is a special occasion.”
“Are you nervous about your mission?” asked Aina.
“There is nothing to be nervous about, Aina. We have mastered the skills necessary for survival, and Zenyra believes us ready.”
“And you trust her?” asked Aranel, ignoring Aina’s scandalized look.
“Why of course,” said Hiraval. “I trust Zenyra with my soul. She is a Paramosi after all, and purer than even the Preservation.”
“How do you know that?” pressed Aranel. “Have you compared the brightness of their keiza?”
“Have you not heard the stories?” Hiraval dropped his voice. “Of Zenyra’s youth? How she befriended one of the megarya, a descendant of Sorken Himself?”
“What?” Aranel dropped his wineglass, catching it with a tendril of energy just before it shattered against the ground.
“Are you drunk already?” asked Taralei. “There is something called pacing yourself, Aranel. Not that I’d expect you to understand, given how you drained your chitrons during the first leg of the junior cloudsurfing qualifiers.”
“I was nine,” said Aranel, then turned to Hiraval. “But a megarya? Truly?”
He could not believe his ears. Native to Paramos, the winged dolphins were noble beasts. Very few were said to have survived Kal Ekana, and those who would approach a human were even rarer. A megarya’s presence was a blessing in itself, given only to those with the purest of souls.
“I never asked Zenyra about it. But word in Amaratir is that they became dear friends,” said Hiraval in a hushed voice. “The beast even accompanied Zenyra on some of her travels.”
“That’s amazing,” said Aranel.
The revelation, if true, cast doubt onto the Preservation’s claims that Zenyra was dangerous. The megarya were intelligent and could not be fooled like humans. Perhaps Zenyra had been young back then, but who were they to doubt a megarya’s judgment?
Besides, Zenyra was not the only one with secrets. Seirem’s hipflask had been noticeably absent their past few meetings. The Preserver claimed it contained youth tonic yet now refused to drink from it in Aranel’s presence. And he’d spoken of erasures—erasures!—implying they were linked to the Balancers, all the while ignoring Aranel’s warnings about Kaldrav.
Frustrated, Aranel lifted his wineglass and downed the contents in one gulp. A moment later, Taralei snatched it away, pouring him a refill with a saccharine smile.
Aranel lost track of how many glasses he drank over the next hour. The glowing flowers of the banyan flickered like dancing fireflies.
Aranel reached out to grab at the blossoms, his fingers slipping through the cool air as he stumbled forward. He hit something hard and straightened to meet Meizan’s unimpressed gaze.
“Lightweight,” drawled Meizan. “Why am I not surprised?”
Aranel stepped back, cheeks burning. “I don’t drink often, but that incorrigible cousin of mine…” He shook his head and gestured at Meizan’s empty glass. “You liked the wine?”
“It’s weak,” said Meizan. “And too damn sweet.”
“Stop complaining.” Aina sidled up to them. “I bet Malini liquor tastes like piss. I wouldn’t know because I’ve never drunk it. But this stuff, this stuff is magical.” She emptied her wine in three large gulps and grinned widely.
“How much have you had?” Aranel tried to look stern. “Are you sixteen yet, Aina? When’s your birthday?”
“I don’t know.” Aina’s smile faded. “Mama—she never—we never had time for birthdays.”
“If you’re fifteen, that makes you underage,” said Aranel. “It’s against Kirnosi law to—”
“Oh, will you shut it already!” Aina groaned. “Kirnosi law, Toranic Law, all you ever do is talk about the bleeding law. You’re lucky you’re so pretty, Aranel, or no one would listen to a word that comes out of your priggish, prissy mouth.”
Aranel’s retort was cut off by Hiraval, ever the peacemaker. “For all we know, Aina could already be sixteen,” said Hiraval. “I know you mean well, Aranel, but for tonight you could take a break from all your well-meaning and lighten up a bit.”
“See, Aranel.” Aina snickered. “Even the ex-priest finds you a prude.” She turned to Hiraval, sobering. “Be careful once you leave. You’re a good channeler, but some of the Malini…” Aina chewed her lip and seemed to struggle for words. “Just be careful. Prayers won’t help you here.”
“I am stronger than you think, Aina.” Hiraval reached down to pat her head. “And not so naive as to rely on prayer in Azyaka’s realm.”
“May your soul spin straight and swift,” said Aina. It was the first time Aranel had heard her utter the phrase.
“Do stop,” entreated Taralei, pushing herself between Hiraval and Aina. “The night is still young! Let us speak of more compelling subjects!”
“Such as?” asked Aina as Hiraval wandered off to talk with Reimi.
“Well, it’s my last night here.” Taralei’s eyes twinkled as she raised her glass. “I thought it best to speak freely so I can leave Incaraz with no regrets.”
“I think I shall regret whatever it is you’re about to say,” said Aranel.
“It’s not for you, Ran, but your teammate.” Taralei turned to Meizan. “I don’t suppose you’ve been told this much in Malin, but you realize you’re rather handsome?”
Aranel nearly choked on his wine. Taralei thumped him on the back, then carried on. “Reimi and I were wondering, did you have a lover before you joined? Do Malini take lovers? Does the concept of marriage exist in this realm? Surely your clan must have had a wedding now and then.”
Aranel continued to splutter and choke while Meizan looked bored. “Not that I know of,” he said.
“No romance, then,” noted Taralei. “But what about, you know—even Malini must have basic needs? Or does procreation work differently in this realm?”
Aina burst into giggles, and Meizan shot Taralei a look of undiluted scorn.
“Taralei,” exploded Aranel, regaining control of his voice. “You’re embarrassing yourself!”
“How sweet of you to care, but I’m not in the least bit embarrassed,” said Taralei, but she allowed Aranel to drag her away.
“Has another soul taken over your body?” he demanded, once they were a safe distance from Meizan and Aina. “What were you thinking, throwing yourself on him like that?”
“I wasn’t throwing myself on him.” Taralei rolled her eyes. “He is nice looking now that he’s been taking regular baths. And Reimi and I were talking earlier about whether or not the concept of love exists in Malin. Because if the Malini are capable of feeling love, it means they ought to be able to ascend, don’t you think?”
“A-as if I’d ever think about—about Malini like that!” cried Aranel, his face aflame. “We’re here to help the Malini, Taralei, not speculate on their love lives. Have some shame, will you?”
“Prude. Just because you’ve never had a lover…”
Aranel raked a hand through his hair in frustration. Everyone, from Aina to Hiraval to his own cousin, seemed to think him a prude these days. He struggled for clarity amidst his alcohol-induced haze and forced himself to focus on more important matters.
“Listen, Taralei.” Aranel grasped her shoulders. “Aina was right. Malin is dangerous. You may have mastered the Balancer techniques, but Kaldrav’s army is still out there. There were nearly forty previous Balancers, but it worries me we’ve never heard from any of them.”
“Oh, calm down.” Taralei waved him off. “Zenyra’s in regular contact with the villages. Besides, I won’t be alone. I don’t know about Hiraval and Reimi, but the village I’m going to is being run by Eniya. You remember him, Ran? He’s Sam’s old friend from Tahamur.”
“What do you mean you don’t know about Hiraval and Reimi?” Aranel’s grip on her shoulder tightened. “Are the three of you not going to be together?”
“Not at first. Zenyra wants us to stay with more experienced Balancers until we get the hang of things, so they’re being sent to a village south of mine.”
Everything Taralei was saying made logical sense. Yet with every word, Aranel’s stomach turned until he felt queasy with fear.
“That’s the wine,” said Taralei once Aranel told her. “It’s going to be fine, Ran. I knew what I was getting into when I joined the Balancers.”
“If you’d like to return to Kirnos, I could sneak you out. Or forget Mayana, there’s a torana to Paramos nearby. It’s perfectly reasonable, and I’m sure Hiraval and Reimi would understand.”
“Aranel.” Taralei sounded uncharacteristically serious. “I appreciate your concern, but I want to do this. I want to help, to do something meaningful with my life. That’s why I joined the Balancers instead of ascending in the first place.”
She extricated herself from his grip to pull him into a hug.
“I’m worried for you,” said Aranel as he thought about Seirem and his veiled warnings: unaccounted disappearances, disturbances in the chitronic system, erasures. “I don’t know why, but I’m worried, and confused, and—”
He bit his tongue. For a moment, Aranel considered spilling the truth about his mission. But even if Taralei was his cousin, she’d been a Balancer longer than he had. She could very well take his secret and run straight to Zenyra.
And so Aranel said nothing and returned Taralei’s hug with a heavy heart.
“Seems you’ll be missing me a lot more than I expected,” said Taralei with a grin.
“Seems so,” said Aranel as he followed her back to the banyan.
The tree glowed bright as the Mayani moon, casting an ethereal light about the crater. The Balancers gathered in a circle around Zenyra, their leader’s face luminous under the blue blossoms.
“This is our last night with three of our number,” said Zenyra. “Hiraval, Reimi, and Taralei will leave Incaraz shortly to fulfill their part in our legacy. Let us toast them by repeating the maxim of the Balancers.”
“We have a maxim?” whispered Aina to Aranel. “Since when?”
Aranel shrugged, watching Zenyra raise a glass and nod to the three seniors in turn. “May these words give you power and conviction,” she said, “even when times are troubled.”
Aranel picked up his own glass as Zenyra began reciting. Her voice rang through the air like a gong, rich and unwavering.
“We lived in fear of Toranic Law, our lives bound within its shackles. We feared corruption from the darkness, so we chose to rot in the light. But remember”—Zenyra’s voice rose—“those are selfish fears. And we, the Balancers, do not fear.”
She clinked her glass against Taralei’s, then Reimi’s, and finally Hiraval’s.
“We descend to help those whom Toranic Law has forsaken,” proclaimed Zenyra. “We shall give them light where the universe gives them naught but darkness!”
“Hear! Hear!” said Hiraval. His eyes brimmed with resolve. Next to him, Taralei’s face was set as she held her glass to Zenyra’s.
“Our minds shall endure,” said the three seniors in unison, repeating after their leader. “Our hearts shall stay pure. Our souls shall not tarnish.”
Across from Aranel, Meizan’s eyebrows had all but disappeared into his bangs. Aina, on the other hand, watched in a dazed rapture—although whether from Zenyra’s words or the indecent amount of wine she had consumed, Aranel could not tell.
Aranel’s gaze then fell on Zenyra’s fierce countenance. She truly believed in what she was saying. And though her words could have been perceived as a slight against Toranic Law, her keiza glowed brighter than the blossoms of the banyan.
Ruled by selfish fears. Bound within the shackles of Toranic Law. Was that how Aranel had lived all this time? Was that how the Preservation lived? Zenyra lived so differently, and yet Toranic Law had not punished her. It had not dimmed her keiza or slowed the spin of her soul.
Could they both be right? The Preservation and Zenyra? Could they both be good, in their own distinct ways?
Seirem had been drinking the very liquid that flowed through the crater of Incaraz. But he’d hidden it from Aranel, just as Zenyra had with her sunken barrier.
Or could it be…that they’re both dangerous?
He stared again at Zenyra’s keiza, brilliant as Seirem’s had been. Two beings with keiza so bright could not be guilty of much wrong. The more Aranel pondered it, the more his head spun, until he concluded Taralei was right: He was drunk. He would think more on this another time.
Taralei, Hiraval, and Reimi took their leave at the first light of dawn.
Aranel stood with Meizan and Aina at the rim of the crater and watched Zenyra lead the other three across the scabrous terrain. He clasped his palms on instinct, drawing forward circles over the back of his left hand with his thumb.
I’ll see you once you finish your training, Taralei had said to him before she left. Yet those words sounded like a lie, or a portent of impending calamity. As Aranel watched his cousin disappear, he felt the onset of sudden dread—as if this were the last time he’d ever see her.
PART III
Blissful Paramos, the height of perfection,
idyllic, with beauty that sings.
For souls that spin in a forward direction
and swift as a hummingbird’s wings.
Virtuous Mayana, of light and love,
a land rich in wealth and learning.
While not quite as swift as the realm above,
their soul-spins are rightly turning.
Wicked Malin, where fell men and their prey
both suffer a harrowing fate.
Here souls spin backward, so drenched in decay,
their chitrons afire with hate.
Accursed Narakh, damnedest of all,
obscured in darkness, steeped in sin.
Whence souls seldom rise after they fall,
iniquity fueling their spin.
–SONG OF SALVATION–
Verse VII: The Four Realms
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sinless Lives
Four moons breathing the clean air of Incaraz, and Meizan had almost forgotten what being in Malin was like. Each ragged breath felt like the scraping of kapizer claws against his throat, each blink as if his retinas were on fire.
Was it always this bad, Meizan wondered as they cut across the craggy landscape, or have I become spoiled in the company of uppers?
Zenyra had interrupted their earlier training session to announce they would be visiting a Balancer village for an emergency healing mission, something Aranel seemed especially excited about. They left at night, with Zenyra setting a punishing pace through the darkness. Meizan was convinced they’d run into Kaldrav’s soldiers. The Balancer leader claimed she had scouted the route earlier, but Meizan stayed on high alert.
Soldiers weren’t the only enemies that lurked in the realm. Even as they moved, keeping their steps silent and forms concealed, Meizan spotted burning eyes amidst the shadows. Prowling forms more hideous than the jagged ruins of rock.
Aranel nearly jumped out of his skin when Zenyra motioned to the silhouette of a sleeping nagamor. He wedged himself between Meizan and Aina for the rest of the journey, and no number of whispered insults would make him go away.
They crossed the Muzireni on foot, using their enhanced chitronic control to walk its turbid waters, with Zenyra supporting Aina so she wouldn’t slip in. Three days’ travel saw them at the slopes of Ish’shai, the Gloomstone, bone tired but otherwise unscathed.
The Balancer village was just to Ish’shai’s east, crammed within an enormous rift in the ground. It consisted of a network of subterranean caves that overlooked the deep fissure. According to Zenyra, the top floors contained living and healing quarters and those farther down served as storage for spare supplies.
The entire rift was suffocatingly warm and grungier than Incaraz had been. Flimsy structures extended from the caves and spilled onto the side of the cliff—canvas tents and shacks made of corrugated iron. They perched precariously at the edge like a pack of tottering drunks, looking as though the slightest disturbance would send them tumbling into the abyss.
“We are over capacity,” Zenyra said. “The caves can accommodate around one hundred, but the recent violence has put us at nearly double that.” She led them down the side of the rift, warning them to use precision channeling as they descended. “Disrupting the rock here would be inconvenient.”
They followed Zenyra into one of the larger caves, which contained a circle of ramshackle tents around a large firepit.
“Those are the healer’s quarters for this level.” She gestured toward the largest tent. “There are crates inside with basic medical supplies. Get to work while I find the village heads.” She turned to Aranel. “Your cousin tells me you are well-versed in healing. Take over for now, and I will be with you shortly. And take note of the brightness of their keiza.”
