Nira

     “Taran.”

     Himira’s jaw had dropped. As though someone had driven iron spikes through her feet, she froze, rooted in place. A look of mixed shock and fear contorted her features. Only Jorin noticed that she’d stopped, soon to be separated from the others as they wove their way through the cobbled market. He hesitated, his head whipping between the sight of her and the receding backs of the others. After a moment of this, he turned on his heel and ran after the rest of their party, stumbling into bustling shoppers as he continued to look over his shoulder at the Pillager.

     She was staring at an enormous, bear-like man, who returned her gaze with equal surprise evident on his round face. His hair, a mess of dirty, wild cowlicks, was a pale shade of green. His eyes, slowly growing cold, were small and inky black. He had a face smudged with soot and covered in stubble. His clothing, a simple woven tunic and leather britches, were equally unkempt. Jorin lost sight of the pair just as the huge man crossed his arms.

     “Himira, what are you doing here?” The man demanded, obviously flustered but trying to cover it with cool authority.

     “Shoppin’,” she answered with a nervous laugh.

     “How long have you been here in Nira?”

     “’Bout six hours. Yerself?”

     “This isn’t funny, Himira!” The big man’s hands dropped to his sides, making gestures of frustration. “Don’t you care what you’ve done?”

     “What of it?” The Pillager assumed a posture of nonchalance, only her eyes still betraying hints of fear and agitation.

     “Where have you been all this time?” Taran’s face began to tremble, evidence of his emotions.

     “At sea. Went to Anrakshi and Melatal, like I said I was gonna. Detour to Calibriar… and ran into some… unpleasantness on the way back. I got business to attend ta, so if ya don’ mind-”

     “I do mind. When are you going home?”

     Himira sighed.

     “I got business. When it’s done.”

     “When’s that gonna be? A week? Another year?”

     “When it’s done.”

     “No.” The big man’s posture suddenly grew rigid. “I’m not gonna let you do this. You’re going to go home if I have to drag you. You’re gonna explain.”

     “Taran,” Himira didn’t finish, distracted as she was by Jorin skidding to a halt beside her, his golden eyes wild and darting between the stranger and the Pillager. Hamat followed behind him, coolly observing the humongous man.

     “Is everything okay?” Jorin panted, deep concern splashed all over his features.

     “Yeah, yeah, ‘s fine,” Himira replied, waving him off. “Just havin’ a chat with ol’ Taran here. Catchin’ up. Ol’ friend a my husband, he is.”

     “Your… husband?” Wide-eyed with shock, the mechanic turned to Hamat, who seemed completely disinterested in the development.

     “Yeah, my husband. Ya know, the guy I married.” She shook her head at Jorin, as though surprised he could be so slow. “Taran here’s a bit angry wit’ me at the moment.”

     “What seems to be the problem?” Hamat asked, assuming a protective stance that came easily to his well-trained muscles.

     Suddenly put on the spot, the enormous man grew flustered, an almost child-like look of being overwhelmed blooming on his face. When he spoke, his deep voice shook with nervousness.

     “Well, you see… It’s just that… See, Himira left home nearly two years ago. We haven’t heard from her since, you know? And Akuro- that’s her husband- has been just sitting around, waiting for her, not knowing what happened. And now I see her here and… Well, I dunno. It’s just… Can’t you see where I’m coming from? Akuro’s my best friend and she just up and disappears and… Don’t you care?” He turned to Himira, pleading. “Don’t you care at all?”

     “I do, ya witless buffoon, but I got business. I tol’ ya. And if Akuro don’ like the lifestyle, he shouldna married me. I tol’ him as much when he did. So I don’ see how he’s got any right to complain.”

     “This isn’t the same, Himira, and you know it. You were never gone this long before. Here I’ve been trying to convince him you were dead, that he should move out of that house and back to town, and he’s just grieving and hanging on… How could you do this? I ought to drag you back home by the hair.”

     “I got reasons, an’ good ones, too. Go tell him I’ll be home when I can be… if I can be.”

     “No. The only thing I’ll be telling him is that you’re here in Nira waiting for him. You can explain to his face.”

     “I got places ta go. I don’ have time ta wait aroun’ while ya bring him here. It’ll be all a five days waitin’ at least. Ya tell him I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

     “I don’t care, Himira. You’ll wait here, and if you leave I swear by the gods I’ll track you down.”

     She laughed, merry peals of mockery.

     “Taran, ya couldn’ track a bleedin’ elephant through a field a snow.”

     Aside, Jorin whispered to Hamat,

     “What’s an elephant?”

     The Protector shrugged and shook his head.

     “I’ll find you. I swear I will,” Taran said, his voice rumbling like a waking bear.

     “Hamat,” Himira turned to the dark and silent man, her voice a petition. “Ya tell him we ain’t got time.”

     “This is obviously quite a personal business of yours,” he replied. “As I’m to follow where you lead, the choice of what to do now is yours.”

     The blue on black eyes of the Pillager appealed to the sky, awash in frustration.

     “We can’ just stop here.”

     “There’s no reason why we couldn’t, if it’s what you thought was best.”

     Himira growled and muttered something to herself.

     “Taran,” she said, obviously straining to keep her voice even. “I’ll meet ya in that tavern over there tonight. Be there at sundown.” She pointed to a building across the street.

     “I need to go back to Minamia,” the big man stated. “I haven’t got anywhere to stay.”

     “Ya’ll be there tonight, or I’ll take it that ya decided ta do as I said an’ tell Akuro I’ll be home another time.”

     “I’m not just gonna up and leave without-”

     “Good. Then I’ll see ya tonight.” Himira turned abruptly from Taran. “Gentlemen,” she addressed Jorin and Hamat, “shall we?”

     Hamat followed silently behind the Pillager, leaving Jorin behind. The mechanic stood staring at the big man, shaking his head in confusion.

     “Your girlfriend’s leaving,” Taran informed him coldly.

     “She’s not my-”

     “She’d better not be anymore, if you know what’s good for you.”

     For the second time in less than half an hour, Jorin turned on his heel and sprinted after Hamat.

 

     There was nothing left with which to barter by the time Hamat had finished at the market. The only worldly possessions any of the ten now carried with them were bare necessities, aside from the copious amount of notes Ren and Jorin had taken from Mianuus, which had little value to anyone aside from themselves. Hamat, Xelin and Rianka at least had the comfort of knowing that their homes and the contents therein were watched over by the rest of the Defenders, though Xelin more and more frequently fought the sudden, stomach-clenching waves of panic that Ishar had gone to the ranch, wreaking destruction. As always completely self-aware, he realized the depth of his fear through his reluctance to bring up the possibility of an attack to Hamat, who was usually granted access to any and all thoughts that passed through the younger man’s mind.

     Maaya fought panic of her own, in the form of the realization that by now the Scavengers would have descended on the home she’d shared with Ren. She had nothing left save for what she carried with her, items which she frequently catalogued to shore her spirit against despair. She’d fallen to secretly reprimanding herself for allowing this journey to take place. She’d been foolish, she realized, only thinking of the pressing urges of the immediate future. Now, she would have nothing when Ren needed her. Gone were all the comforts of their cozy little house in Mianuus, simple things so easily cast aside that she would lament with increasing futility when she woke one morning to find him ill and herself with nothing more than sewing needles and prayers. They were homeless and wandering in a distant part of the country that might as well have been a myth had they not seen it with their own eyes. How could she have done this to him? In guilt, she constantly argued that he’d seemed so determined to leave with or without her that he’d given her no choice. Jorin was in a similar state, though neither spoke a word of their hidden thoughts, for fear of the torrent of self-loathing and mutual blame that would ensue.

     Benar, as Maaya knew by now, had spent the better part of his life moving from place to place and had little concern for his current poverty. In his experience, it was a usual side-effect of uprooting oneself. He could sense Maaya’s growing despair, and attempted to use what he’d learned in his years of constant wandering to ease her worries. He had no idea of his success or failure as they never discussed her anxieties openly. Instead, he worked little stories or anecdotes into their conversations, praying she could take some comfort in them. Whether or not she did, he didn’t know.

     Iori, who had very few material possessions to begin with, didn’t seem particularly concerned with any loss of what he’d left behind. Over the calm and uneventful trek to Nira, he’d regained most of his strength, though none of the weight he’d lost. He now looked very much like he had when Rianka had first met him, complete with tousled hair and torn clothing, for the cold-hearted Protector had begun pointedly refusing to assist him in any matter. Her Debt repaid, she made no effort to see to it that he washed when he should, that the clothes he ripped or soiled in his carelessness were repaired or that he remembered to eat. She tolerated his near-constant presence with what might’ve been considered good grace, save for the obvious coolness in her manner. In this, as in most any other thing, Iori took no notice.

     As they had nothing left with which to trade for lodging, the party spent the afternoon setting up camp in an area of the city that had once been a public park. It was still a park after a fashion, though it had long since lost any semblance of the order it once had during the time of the Empire. The place was now cared for by any citizen who had the means and will, sculpted to the whims of a myriad of discordant ideas. Beds of clashing flowers bloomed beside mismatched hedges. A single orange tree had lost its blooms where it stood surrounded by tiger lilies that had yet to blossom. The group had paused by the city’s Wish Tree, still hung with that year’s ribbons, as it would be until the onset of winter. They made individual signs of reverence and prayer before passing on, only Xelin and Hamat mimicking one another. They set up camp on the outskirts of a copse of ancient trees, one of the only places free of the willy-nilly flower beds that pervaded the park.

     Once settled, Himira was called upon to explain herself, a task she took up grudgingly at best. Her eyes remained focused on Hamat as she spoke, carefully blocking out the gazes of the others who surrounded her with pressing curiosity. Only Iori seemed completely uninterested in her story, his blue eyes- both visible and hidden- fixed on the surrounding trees.

     “See, I useta live in this small village south a here,” Himira began, her voice betraying her loathing for the demanded explanation. “Minamia ‘s called. Actually, I lived outside it, in this little place near the shore. Lived there with Akuro, my husband. We married young… Ya know, passion a youth an’ all that.” She shook her head. “Worked out alright. He kept the place when I was at sea… Simple guy, Akuro- a potter.” She sighed heavily. “Good guy.

     “I left two years ago- more’n that now, maybe. We got our hands on some cargo headed Over There an’ took it to Anrakshi fer trade. Got a tip off of a load comin’ out a Calibriar, headed over that way. Already I’d been gone longer’n usual, but wasn’ too worried ‘bout home… And then those men caught us, took us ta Ishar… An’ then I went to you. Thassall. Taran’s Akuro’s best mate. I’m none too surprised he’s insistin’ I see ‘im.”

     “What do you intend to do?” Hamat asked, his tone carefully measured to sound open and free of burden.

     “I dunno… I mean, course I wanna see Akuro, I guess. Just now?” She shook her head once again. “We’re meant to leave tomorrow. It’s more’n three days journey on foot to get to Minamia and another half ta get ta my place. Goin’ there would be a waste a time, and waitin’ aroun’ here would be, too. ‘Sides, Iori there already tol’ this lot he’d take ‘em to this so-called Blue Fire. That’ll eat up enough time as it is.”

     “It doesn’t have to,” Iori spoke up suddenly, surprising the others who’d thought he was paying no mind to the conversation. “I can go with Ren and his friends, then find you later. I’ll be told where to go to get to you.”

     Rianka shot him a look of apprehension, but said nothing.

     “You could stay here, or go to Minamia,” he continued. “I’ll find you.”

     To Hamat’s surprise, none of the rest looked even slightly brightened by the offer. Himira’s face grew utterly dispirited while Rianka’s clouded with concern. Xelin bore a crestfallen look that he was obviously trying to hide. Ren and Jorin stifled sighs and Maaya watched Benar as he watched Iori, neither looking particularly pleased. Fatemeh, taking her cue from those around her, carefully fixed her expression to match the rest, though it was impossible to tell what she was really thinking.

     “What’s the matter?” Hamat asked of no one in particular. A cacophony of voices answered in return.

     “I wanna get outta here… but not to Minamia,” Himira stated sullenly.

     “I kinda wanted to see the Blue Fire,” Xelin admitted shamefacedly.

     “You don’t honestly think he’ll be able to find you again, do you?” Benar queried, indicating Iori.

     “You think we should split up?” Ren’s voice quavered. “I mean, I know we have to eventually, but…”

     “We kinda like you guys,” Jorin finished for him.

     It was all Hamat could do to sort out the garbled replies, all spoken at once. He turned his copper-colored eyes on one who hadn’t spoken.

     “Rianka?”

     The red-haired Protector shrugged, banishing any look of care from her features.

     “I do what you tell me,” she replied dispassionately.

     “Really,” Himira put in, “I could go ta find this fire. Ya said it was only two days journey from here, didn’t ya?” She turned her eyes on Iori.

     “At most.”

     “See then, we could go an’ come back with plenty a time to catch up with Taran an’ Akuro. That way we all get what we want, right?”

     Hamat once again observed the other nine. This time, they all looked more cheerful- save for Rianka, whose expression remained blank and cold. He noticed Iori watching her, the crooked smile slipping from his face. She was in her own way gone, inaccessible to the rest. Hamat suddenly remembered her vehement wish not to see the Blue Fire. Looking at her empty, soul-swallowed eyes, he felt the pressing urge to find out why. Cautiously, his mind focused on the moment at hand, he pushed the impulse aside.

     “Maaya,” he said instead, “you’ve been very quiet. What do you think of us continuing with you and parting ways once you’ve found what you’re looking for?”

     “I’d be grateful for your continued help,” she responded. “If it’s what everyone wants…” She trailed off, but her eyes, rather than probing the faces of the others, fell with specific finality on Ren. Her brother didn’t seem to take any notice. There came replies of general assent and she nodded.

     “Well, there it is, then.” Hamat’s voice rang with authority. “We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow.”

 

     Maaya watched the dancing pinpricks of firelight in Benar’s storm-grey eyes. He was helping her clean up after their evening meal, and she took any opportunities of his distraction to study his face. He appeared far less careworn than he had in the past weeks, though he still bore the look of one poised for disaster, an expression she’d noticed the very first time she’d laid eyes on him. The slightly troubled countenance made him seem somehow vulnerable, and she found herself struggling often against the urge to reach out and run her fingers through the pomegranate strands of his hair.

     “Are you alright?” He’d caught her staring and returned her look with one of concern.

     “Yes, yes I’m fine.” Flustered, she blushed. “I’m just… distracted.”

     He looked around them. None of the others were in close proximity, having trailed away to see to their own business. Himira had gone to meet Taran, and Xelin and Hamat were busily sorting through their stock of weapons and ammo. While they worked by the light of their lanterns, Xelin chatted incessantly, his banter often bringing a smile to the lips of his silent companion. At the fringes of the camp, Jorin and Rianka discussed some piece of technology. Iori had wandered into the grove of gargantuan trees and was lost from view. Ren and Fatemeh were also out of sight, the sound of their voices- Ren’s calm measured tones and Fatemeh’s rusty sounding responses- temporarily absent. Catching the searching nature of Benar’s gaze, Maaya sighed heavily.

     “He still seems alright, doesn’t he?” She spoke softly, no need to specify who she meant.

     “Yes…” Benar’s reply rang with caution.

     “How much longer?” She asked, a note of desperation buried in the words.

     “I really don’t know, Maaya. I’m sorry.” Benar hung his head guiltily.

     “Do you think… maybe- maybe you were wrong? Maybe he really is okay?”

     “Maybe…” He sounded unconvinced and refused to meet her eyes.

     “You don’t think so, do you?”

     “I don’t know. Maybe there really isn’t an explanation for what happened to Ren over the winter. We just need to keep waiting.”

     “Jorin says he’s going to tell,” Maaya said resignedly. When Benar didn’t answer, she went on. “He thinks it’s unfair to Ren to keep this from him. I… I don’t know what to do. Maybe he’s right.”

     “Telling him now isn’t going to do anything for his quality of life,” the doctor replied firmly.

     “I know, but… He’s going to be devastated anyway, and knowing that we all knew-”

     “He doesn’t have to be told that.” Benar looked up suddenly, his dark grey eyes only barely concealing sorrow. “I’ve had to do this before, Maaya. I know how to handle it.”

     It was Maaya’s turn to hang her head. Silence, punctuated by the occasional sound of Xelin’s cheerful voice, reigned between them for a time. Inattentive and sunk deep in contemplation, she failed to notice Benar’s movement. A jolt ran through her as he took her hands in his. For a moment, all thought was lost to her but the feeling of those hands on hers, so much larger, slightly calloused in odd places, protective. She looked up, taking in the sight of his patient, troubled face.

     “I know how hard it is, what you feel,” he said softly. “I know it can seem like you’re doing the wrong thing not telling him. But he’d only suffer needlessly. We’ve made it all the way here to Nira. Let’s finish the last leg of the trip and see how things go. The waiting is the hardest thing, I know. You’ve held up very well. Just a little longer.”

     “It’s not just me. Jorin-”

     “I’ll talk to Jorin.”

      She nodded silently, distracted and thinking that she ought to take back her hands. No one ever held her hands. She hadn’t really understood why people would do such a thing until now. Feeling Benar’s warmth, the texture of his skin, his grip strong and gentle, she found she enjoyed it. Sudden questions filled her mind, previously unpondered inquiries about what it would be like to have someone hold her, to touch her face. She firmly kept those questions focused on “someone” rather than Benar, but still she felt her face flush. Flustered and embarrassed, she blurted,

     “He may not listen to you. He thinks you only came because of me.” Aghast at her own boldness, she added, “That’s not true, of course.”

     “Maaya, you know I think your brother is a good man. I came to admire him a lot during my visits after he awoke. He’s got a brilliant mind and a wonderful spirit. I admire you, too. I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I wanted to help you both more than I wanted to stay in Mianuus. It’s that simple. I know it must seem unimaginable to Jorin, but the decision wasn’t very hard for me to make. I’ve spent a lot of my life moving around. It’s no great sacrifice on my part. The plain truth is, I care about both of you. I’m glad I had a chance to meet you, even though I regret the circumstances.”

     She didn’t reply, much as she wanted to tell Benar that she was happy to have met him as well. She couldn’t force out those words, for the reason behind their meeting was simply too difficult to find any good in. Instead, she finally withdrew her hands and changed the subject.

     “I wonder if Iori really knows anything about the Blue Fire,” she mused. “I hope he doesn’t just lead us off into the middle of nowhere.”

     “That remains to be seen, I suppose,” Benar said with a sigh. “I don’t see how he could know what he says he knows. I’m afraid everyone puts too much faith in him.”

     “Yeah, me too. He never makes any sense to me… but Ren’s determined to follow him, and I guess I am kind of happy to have the extra protection, especially Hamat and Xelin. Xe’s been just wonderful to Ren. I wish I would thank him somehow.”

     “You put in a lot of work on everyone’s behalf. I think that’s thanks enough.”

     Maaya laughed.

     “That’s just doing what I should. Speaking of, we really ought to put the rest of this stuff away.”

     Benar nodded in agreement, and the two spent the remainder of their time together silent, putting away cooking pots and utensils, carefully checking the packs to be sure that everything was secure for their departure in the morning. For better or for worse, they would leave the city limits, bound for what just might be their goal.