BAHYITH
Pri-Rada Himel of the Iryllur stood with his arms crossed, overlooking an immense valley of lush forests and meadows. Between the patches of brilliant green hues, a river of crisp blue cut across the landscape, breaking into smaller tributaries as it neared the horizon. Himel’s six wings lay against his back in resting position; but even retracted, their enormous size was intimidating.
The Pri-Rada turned his head and looked back over his shoulder as Sariel approached. “Join me,” he said quietly.
Sariel glanced at the two massive guards standing a few paces away on each flank before stepping up to the edge of the cliff to join his superior.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Himel asked softly.
Sariel knew the Iryllur was leading up to something—making a point, but he decided to play along anyway. “Yes, my Rada.”
“Would you have this valley given over to the Marotru?”
“No, my Rada. Of course not.”
The Pri-Rada continued to stare out across the vastness of the tranquil beauty before them. “Then why have you come to me instead of working through your immediate superior, unless to voice your disagreement with the mission to a higher authority?”
There’s the point, Sariel thought. “My Rada. I do, indeed, disagree with the mission. But it is not because I want to see the enemy win. I am Iryllur, just as you are. I remain faithful.”
“But you are not … just as I,” the Pri-Rada countered, without raising his voice. He turned his head to look at Sariel and his numerous wings flexed slightly. “The higher orders have been tasked with thinking, and the lower orders with doing.”
Sariel felt suddenly aware of his own wings—inferior in both size and quantity. He looked to the ground for a moment, then turned to the Pri-Rada. “Then why did you agree to meet, if not to hear my concerns?”
The superior turned his gaze back to the valley and crossed his arms. “Because I have concerns of my own. When someone under my authority voices opposition to our mission, it is a problem—”
“Regardless of the reason?” Sariel asked quickly.
The Pri-Rada inhaled slowly, pausing for a moment before answering. “Regardless …”
Sariel could see his superior’s irritation mounting, but his own frustration was quickly becoming more of a concern.
“The Viytur gather and analyze the intelligence. Myself, and the other Pri-Radas, turn the intelligence into useable information. And you soldiers act on it,” he explained calmly, as if to a new recruit.
“I know the process!” Sariel blurted out, unable to control himself in the face of such ridicule. “I’m questioning the intelligence. Why are you assigning my strike team to this operation?”
Himel turned his body to face Sariel and all six of his wings flared out to the extent of their reach. “Are you afraid of your mission?”
Sariel stepped backward and suddenly noticed that the guards had come a few steps forward. “No, my Rada.”
“Are you one of the Marotru?”
“No, my Rada!”
“Are you faithful to the Holy One?”
“YES, MY RADA!”
“ARE YOU A SOLDIER?”
“YES, MY RADA!”
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
“RADA TALAD!”
Sariel’s body shook as he woke. His skin was damp with sweat. He was lying on the ground, looking up at the inside of a thatched roof. He lay still for a moment, breathing deeply as if fear and anger were things that this body could rid itself of with each exhale. When he composed himself, he climbed to his feet and walked out of the shelter into the morning light.
* * * *
“Come back soon and tell me what you find,” Sheyir heard her father say.
Yeduah and Sariel were standing on the outskirts of the village, speaking in private. Sheyir’s heart was racing as she hid among the trees, listening to the exchange between the two men.
Why is he leaving?
She had not spied on anyone since her childhood, but it seemed to be a regular occurrence lately. She wished it wasn’t necessary, but since Sariel had arrived, many unusual things were happening in her village and she couldn’t contain her curiosity. Reaching up, she parted the vines and peered through the leaves.
Sariel nodded, then turned and walked into the trees to the north.
Where is he going?
Sheyir waited until her father moved back toward the village before she left her hiding place. Running as swiftly and quietly as possible, she paralleled the path that Sariel had taken. A moment later, she stood on the eastern bank of the stream that flowed from Bahyith toward Arar Gahiy.* In her haste, she had passed him, and now searched in panic until she saw him coming along the shore.
Sariel walked with his head down, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.
Sheyir’s heart beat frantically in her chest as she moved upstream toward him.
Sariel finally looked up when Sheyir was nearly close enough to touch him. His forehead smoothed and his lips curled into a smile.
“Weren’t you going to say goodbye?” she asked above the sound of the water. His bright blue eyes almost looked as if he’d been crying.
“I was hoping you’d follow me out here,” he said quietly, looking over his shoulder. “You know I cannot express my feelings for you openly. At least, not yet.”
Sheyir’s heart leaped to hear the word feelings. “Where are you going?”
Sariel reached out with both hands and pulled her closer. “Your father gave me his name last night,” he said, looking down into her eyes.
“Yes. I know,” she replied with a smile. The feeling of his touch was exhilarating, but his leaving and the look in his eyes were deeply troubling.
“I’m making great progress toward gaining Yeduah’s trust,” he continued. “But he will never allow us to marry until I’m fully accepted into the tribe. I must have his complete trust.”
Sheyir’s face suddenly felt hot. She and Sariel had spent a considerable amount of time together in the past few months and had exchanged many tender moments. But they’d never spoken of marriage. Nor had they even spoken directly about their feelings for one another. It was assumed, but never voiced until this moment.
“To marry?” she repeated.
“That is, of course, only if you’re willing,” Sariel added.
Now tears welled up in Sheyir’s eyes. To hear a man speak so passionately was utterly foreign to her. But she loved it. In fact, every conversation with this man was more exciting than the last. And even the simplest moments between them—times they sat in silence and watched the flow of the river—were more thrilling than the best times she’d experienced before they met. “I’m willing,” she said softly.
With his strong arms around her, he leaned down and brought his face close to hers. For a moment, she could feel his breath against her lips. “I love you Sheyir,” he said. Then he kissed her softly.
Sheyir knew instantly that she’d treasure this moment for as long as she lived. She laid her head against his chest, and listened to the beat of his heart. Finally, she looked up again. “Why do you have to go? Is he not satisfied with what you’ve already done?”
Sariel pulled away slightly to see her face. “It’s not really a question of being satisfied. I have an ability that he finds useful. It is in the best interest of his people to gain as much benefit as possible from it. Either someone powerful made those figurines or taught those men to make them for themselves.10 Your father and I both know that either possibility is only a signal of a grave threat to your people.”
“Can’t you ignore it? Why do you seek out danger?” she pleaded.
Suddenly, something behind Sariel’s eyes flashed. It passed over him in an instant and he immediately concealed it, making Sheyir think she’d wounded him deeply.
He blinked heavily before speaking. “The last time I ignored my intuition, people died.”
Sheyir stared into his eyes, wondering when the day would come when he would tell her what had happened. She was suddenly aware of how little she knew of him. How many lives he must have lived. How many things he must have seen.
“I’m going to find the source of this threat and learn anything that your father would consider useful. And I’ll continue to help him for as long as it takes. Eventually I will be considered one of the Chatsiyram.”
Sheyir laid her head against Sariel’s chest again and watched the stream flow by, soaking in the comfort and safety of his love. In that moment, whatever doubts were clinging to the back of her mind drifted away. And all that was left was confidence that she wanted to be with this man, this Baynor, for the rest of her life.
“We could just run away,” Sheyir offered, not realizing what she had said until the words came out of her mouth.
“It would not be right for me to take you away from your people. I want to do this the honorable way.”
Sheyir smiled at this, moved by Sariel’s unwavering dedication and enjoying being the object of it. “Then go. But guard yourself and come back safely to me.”
“I will,” he answered. “And thoughts of you will sustain me.”