When Armenra is asleep with her new baby at her breast, Pasea and I go back out to help with the wall. But the world seems changed to me. Seeing the birth of that baby has filled me with a new mix of wonder, urgency, and hope.
Arms encircle my waist as soon as we emerge. “Mika.”
“Dhan!” I turn in his embrace so that I’m facing him and snake my arms around his neck. “You’re here!”
He smiles. “Briefly. Soon, we ride to join the others.”
He smells like straw and sweat and a little wine. I hold on to him as tight as I can.
He glances around until he spots Pasea, busy at a task. “Let’s go to the river,” he says, taking my hand.
We head away from the bustle of activity and slip out toward the sound of flowing water. Dhan keeps his eyes on the path in front of us, not speaking for a while.
“Things are not good,” he says when we’re far enough away. “The invading army has far more men than we first imagined, and they carry advanced weaponry.”
“When—when do you have to go?” I try to keep my voice even.
“Tomorrow.”
I stumble over a fallen branch as the terrain becomes greener and the river comes into view.
Tomorrow. The wonder and joy I felt just moments ago drains away.
We find a smooth, dry boulder by the edge of the water and climb onto it. We sit next to one another for a long few minutes, staring out at the water.
Water that has been flowing since the beginning of time.
How many battles has this river witnessed? How many lovers have splashed through those waves?
I turn to look at his profile. There are deep lines of worry etched into his face. I move so that I’m in front of him on the flat surface of the rock. I take his face in my hands and kiss him, trying to convey everything I’m feeling through that one small bit of contact.
When I pull away, he caresses my cheek with the back of one finger. “Are you well, Mika?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He buries a hand in my hair and leans his forehead against mine. “I don’t know how long I will be gone, but I cannot imagine not seeing you again.”
His words tear at me. I pull out of his embrace and sit up, hugging the fabric of my wrap around me, as if it can protect me.
I look away into the distance. The river flows past like always, oblivious to the pending invasion, to Dhan’s tomorrow, to an unknown, faceless follower in the Dark. I climb down from the rock and walk to the edge of the water. I dip my hand in and watch the water part around my fingers to continue on its way, heading swiftly and surely toward its predetermined destination. For a moment, I’m transported back to the night after a sports match, when Yonaweh decided to get real honest with me.
I was watching from the side of the field where spectators gathered. Yonaweh and Dhan were playing on opposite teams. Each team had a distinct headdress. The players used what looked like hockey sticks that had little nets at the bottom. At one point, Dhan managed to finagle the ball out of Yonaweh’s net and ran with it to the other end, missing the goal marker by mere inches. Yonaweh’s team ended up winning.
The players from both teams threw playful jabs at Dhan for missing the final goal, and he gave back as good as he got by picking up on their fumbles. Some of the players’ girlfriends brought food and pitchers of wine, so everyone decided to go to the river to celebrate afterward.
I really wanted to be alone with Dhan, but knew that he would want to spend time with his friends, so I tagged along. Everyone spread out sheets and blankets, and food was passed around.
Dhan relaxed and enjoyed the banter with his friends. I followed much of the conversation, but at one point I zoned out. They were using too much slang and speaking too fast for me to keep up. I got up and walked to the river.
I crouched down to watch the moon dance across the ripples. When I heard someone come up behind me, I turned, expecting to see Dhan.
“Greetings, N’ronga,” Yonaweh said in his deep voice.
“Hey,” I said, going back to the river-moon exchange.
He crouched down next to me. “Everyone is over there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the sounds of his friends. “Why are you here, alone?”
I breathed in and looked out over the river. “I like being by the river at night.”
He looked across the water. “Dhan is enjoying himself.”
I nodded, smiling. “He is.”
“He would enjoy himself more if he had a mate who could join him with his friends.”
I looked at him for a moment before shrugging. “I guess.”
He found a stone nearby and tossed it into the water. We both watched as it made tiny ploop and sunk beneath the ripples.
“It must be lonely for my friend,” he said. “And it must be lonely for you here.”
I waited a beat. “What are you trying to say, Yonaweh?”
He shrugged. “You are bahari, Mika’Arini. You will never be Zanum. This is where Dhan belongs. Don’t you think he deserves to be with someone he can build a life with?”
“Build a life with—?” I took a deep breath. “Why don’t you let Dhan make that decision?”
He smiled. “Dhan is blinded by love. When a man is blinded by love, his friends must help him make decisions.”
“Friends help their friends celebrate what they’re happy about,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Yes. If the friend is, indeed, happy.”
“Yonaweh.” The voice behind me was steely with anger and unmistakably Dhan’s.
I tried to say something. “It’s… it’s—”
Dhan ignored me. “How do you dare to speak to Mika’Arini in that tone?”
“Dhanmat. Brother. You are my closest friend—”
Dhan’s voice was soft, but the anger that coursed through his words sent chills through me. “Tonight you have not acted as a close friend, let alone a brother.”
Yonaweh stood up taller. “Dhan, I do not want you to be unhappy. I want you to have what every Zanum brother deserves.”
“Which is?”
“A good Zanumite woman who can share laughter with his friends. Someone who is here.”
Dhan clenched and unclenched his fists. “Yonaweh, speak with care. You are not an elder. Mika’Arini is a bahari—she is respected among us. She is an initiate and she is not to be disrespected. The Council will put you to labor for many weeks if they hear what you have said to her.”
The muscle at Yonaweh’s jaw jumped. “No, you take care. I am not the only one who has these views. Look around. Listen to what your friends say. When the bahari is no longer in our world, then you will remember my words.”
Dhan’s eyes flashed. When he spoke next, it was with measured precision. He turned to address the rest of their friends, all of whom had stopped what they were doing to listen.
“Mika and I are together. We shall be together until one of us decides otherwise. None of our elders have any issue with this. If anyone else does, let them speak now, to my face.”
Silence.
Miraly finally broke the chilled vacuum that separated the three of us from the celebration. “Mika is always welcome among us, Dhan.”
“Then let this be our last exchange on the matter,” Dhan said with finality.
Yonaweh muttered something under his breath and brushed past us to join Miraly and the others.
Everyone returned to what they’d been doing, but they were more subdued now.
Dhan took my hand and led me away from the gathering.
When we were a safe distance from the others, I stopped. “Dhan…”
He stopped a few feet ahead of me, but didn’t turn to look back.
“Is he right?” I chewed on my bottom lip. “Maybe this… maybe we aren’t… Maybe you should be with a—”
He took one long stride toward me and cupped my face in his hands. “I should be with you,” he said, looking into my eyes. “No one can tell me who to love. No one can tell me you are not every bit as much a part of Zanum as I am. You may not live in my time, Mika, but a part of your soul is here, or you wouldn’t have found us.”
Then he pressed his lips against mine in a kiss that shattered every ounce of doubt I might have had.
I turn now, back to the same timeless river. I feel Dhan behind me, before I see him, and force myself back to the present. “Everything’s changing so fast, Dhan. I feel like I’m just standing here, in the vortex of this giant storm.” I cup some of the cool water in my hands and splash it on my face before turning to him. “Did you know that there’s a name for people like me—in my own time? We’re called Ables.”
He smiles. “Yes. Finding your name is like coming home, isn’t it?” He grazes a knuckle gently against my cheek. “Come,” he says. “There is something I want to show you.”
He leads me on what seems to be an aimless walk along the water’s edge. After several minutes, we arrive at a clearing.
Colossal stone slabs have been set in a giant circle. The boulders are sanded down into crude square shapes and are all exactly the same distance from one another. They have inscriptions etched into all four sides, like huge stone tablets.
“I feel like I’m on hallowed ground,” I say, running my hand over a couple of lines. “Are these the Sacred Tablets?”
“No—excerpts. But they are coded so that none but the initiated can read them. They are part of a map.”
We begin to walk the outer periphery of the circle. There are flecks of what looks like gold embedded throughout every stone, and when the sun hits them, I have to turn away from the glare.
“A map leading to where?”
He shakes his head, running a hand reverently along one of the slabs as we walk by. “That I cannot reveal. Zanumites have been working on these for generations, since the moment the invasion was predicted. The hope is that these stones and others like them, scattered from point to point, remain standing throughout the ages, able to communicate with future generations—building the layers of knowledge, one upon another, until all of humankind ascends to the stars. When I was very young, I came often to sand and polish these with Mai-ma.”
I stare at them, trying to make out the meaning of some of the symbols. “Why haven’t you brought me here before?”
“It is for Zanumites,” he says.
He walks to one of the three larger slabs placed in the center of the circle and begins to read, right to left in the Zanum way. “Overcoming our inner animal nature is humankind’s greatest battle. If we do not succeed, we fail as an entire race. Great courage is required of all of humankind. In courage, we find strength we did not know we possessed.”
He puts an arm around my waist and traces the intricate outline of a lion engraved between two paragraphs. “Mika…”
I look up and see that his eyes are dark, round—full of unsaid things. I reach up to stroke his cheek.
His voice is hoarse. “This may be the last time I see you.”
I close my eyes. “Don’t say that.”
He pulls me into an embrace and kisses me hard. This kiss is not like earlier. This one cuts like ice. In it is pain and confusion and fear and uncertainty.
I absorb it all, filter it, and kiss him back with all the love and tenderness I feel for him.
Slowly, reluctantly, I untangle myself. “I will see you again.”
He pulls me back into his arms, this time burying his face into my neck.
I feel myself threatening to fall apart. Pieces of me come loose and fly away, clinging to a Zanum that hasn’t changed yet. To a Dhan that isn’t lost to me yet. I cling and cling.
Until the wailing of an alarm jolts us both back to reality.
We race back. When we slip through the opening in the wall, everyone is rushing around, shouting.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my fingers tightening around Dhan’s.
“You have to leave now.” He takes my hand and pulls me through the chaos until we reach Pasea.
She doesn’t conceal the surprise—and rage—in her eyes. “Where have you two been?”
“It is entirely my fault, Mai-ma. Apologies.” His voice is strong. Something has changed in Dhan and I hold tighter to his hand.
After several tense moments, the anger in Pasea’s eyes flickers, then diminishes. She sighs. “I suppose you are entitled to a farewell.”
Despite the confidence in his tone, I see Dhan swallow before he leans down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek, and one last, long look full of unspoken words.
And then he is gone.
I want to run after him, to hold on to him and hide him. To take him away with me. But Pasea has a vice grip on my wrist.
“Mika’Arini, this must be your final visit. Do not return. Atesu and the High Council members have ordered the portal where you enter to be sealed.”
My heart freezes. “They can do that?”
She avoids my eyes. “It has never been done before, but we have never faced the threat we now do. The Council thought it best for your safety and ours to close that portal. You will no longer have access to Zanum.”
“No!”
“Yes.” The creases around her eyes deepen. “Your presence here could be catastrophic for both of us. Go now. Leave at once.”
“Pasea!”
Pasea, who has been like a second parent to me, spins on her heel and walks away.
* * * * *