by Megan Milligan
© 1993

CHAPTER 1

The old plowhorse plodded through the streets of Peto, pulling a wagon behind it. It was an ugly thing. A rough uncurried coat that looked like the hide of a wild buffalo. Too swaybacked to ride astride. A mane and tail tangled like a briar bush. But it was more than strong enough to pull the heavy load in the back of the wagon. The driver of the wagon was as beautiful as the swayback was ugly. Although the young woman's features were hidden by a hooded, oiled cloak, what could be seen was known to turn a man's head. Some strands of deep auburn hair were whipped out from underneath the hood and stirred around by the wind. The hood framed a delicate oval-shaped face. Her high cheeks were flushed from the cold wind and rain buffeting her face. Water blew into her eyes, and she reached up to wipe them so she could see again. Her eyes. They were what made many men stop and stare. Though she was human, her eyes weren't. Nearly colorless, there was only a field of white. A pearly white where iris or pupil should have been. Those eyes weren't as icy and remote as they looked at first sight. They shone with an iridescent sheen that changed shades with her moods, revealing her emotions. Put together everything about her gave her an ethereal, otherworldly appearance.

 

The young woman shivered and gathered the cloak more tightly about her. Damn, it was cold outside. The horse whickered and shook his body as if echoing the sentiment of his mistress. "Don't worry, Aiko. We'll be there soon. Then somebody can unhitch you and take you to the stable where it's warm while I unload the wagon for Father."

 

Aiko, the horse, whickered again and made a nodding motion with his head as if he agreed with her plan.

 

The young woman looked back over her shoulder to make sure her cargo was all right. She was glad the eating trays she carried to her father were woven out of leaves from the dule tree. They were unbreakable, which was a blessing, for going through the muddy ruts of the road provided ample opportunity for something to break. And the dried ca meat and lini wine were stored in waterproof pouches of cowhide. Nothing tasted worse than soaked ca jerky or diluted wine. A shout from her father's tavern made her head snap back around.

 

What?

 

She stared dumbly at the tavern entrance. A group of boisterous soldiers pushed their way through the tavern doors. The soldiers wore broad grins, slapped eachother on the back, and exhanged war stories along with glasses of wine and ale. War was nothing to laugh about. The sight that greeted her was strange because usually during the past twenty years of fighting all the young woman ever saw were grim-faced, dark-humored men who found little if anything to celebrate. However, this was different; this seemed to be without reservation, without circumspection. Something must have happened. With a snap of the reins, the woman urged Aiko into the fastest pace he could go through the muddy, crowded streets. As they neared the tavern Raika thought fleetingly of why the soldiers could in such a convivial mood. Then it struck her like a lightning bolt; was it over at long last?

 

She jerked on the reins, and the horse skidded to a halt. The woman jumped out of the wagon, ignoring the mud that splattered on her cloak. She gave a hasty order to the horseboy that served the tavern to leave the wagon there and take her horse to the stables and see that he was groomed down and fed. With that, the woman elbowed her way throught the tavern entrance to the bar counter where her father was handing out drinks as fast as he could pour them. She dodged a pair of drunken friends engaging in a friendly brawl. The woman finally made her way to the counter where. "Father," she asked, "what's going on? Is it finally over?"

 

Bosta Chek gave her a wide grin. "Raika, daughter, bring in those dule-leaf plates and ca meat and lini wine. We are going to need it before the night's over with, dearheart! It is over! We won the war!"

 

Raika was astonished. "But when?..."

 

A voice behind her answered, "Peto received official word official word a half hour ago from a town crier that we won the final Battle of Rodan Capital."

 

The voice sounded belovedly familiar. She turned around and stared into the face of her adopted brother. "Lowen!" Raika cried happily. "You're home!" She threw her arms around him and winced as Lowen's armor pinched her.

 

Lowen laughed. "Should've let me take my armor off. And bathe for that matter. I smell like a dead buffalo."

 

Raika hugged him again, this time being careful of how she held him. "I don't care how you smell; all that matters is that you're home safe. Hmm...now that you mention it, though, you smell worse than a dead buffalo. You smell like a Modun soldier."

 

"And this is all the final homecoming I get?" Lowen said in mock disappointment, knowing she was only joking. "Seriously, let me look at you." He cupped Raika's face in both metal-gloved hands. "Gods, you're even more beautiful than when I last saw you three years ago."

 

"And doesn't your father get a hug, too, or are you just going to stand there all day?" Bosta had come out from behind the counter to stand behind Lowen. Lowen reached out with his enormous arms to encompass both his adopted father and his adopted sister. "It's good for you to be home, son," he whispered with tears in his eyes. "You don't know how much Raika and I needed you."

 

After many moments like that, Bosta pulled back and wiped his eyes. "We have so much to catch up on, but that's something that can be done over lini wine and food. Would you help Raika bring some supplies in from her wagon? If they stay out there much longer, they'll get soaked from the drizzle."

 

 

"Good," Raika commented. "It's not raining anymore." She took her cloak off and hung it over the side of the wagon seat. Then she reached over the side of the wagon and picked up an armful of dule-leaf plates. Lowen picked up some sacks of ca jerky. Then they both went back into the tavern and set the plates and meat on the nearest table. Lowen and Raika were about to go back for the wine when they heard a silky voice behind them. "Lowen?" the voice purred, sounding like syrup over corn flat cakes. "Lowen! I can't believe it! You're home!" She whirled him around and planted a sound kiss on his lips.

 

Lowen pulled back and took a good look at the woman who gave him an enthusiastic homecoming. An angular face with serpentine features surrounded by shiny, blue-black hair stared him in the face. Her skin was covered with hundreds of tiny, overlapping, sea-green scales. The rest of her exposed skin bore the same layer of smooth, tiny scales. Her eyes were slitted and ocean-blue. She was dressed in a low-cut sarong gown made of alternating strips of tanned magenta and teal doeskin. She smelled of crushed lini berry blossoms. "Jesya Felanore!" he exclaimed. Lowen picked her up and spun her around. "I missed you! I didn't know you were in Peto." Lowen turned to Raika and said, "Raika this is . . ."

 

Raika cut Lowen off in mid-sentence. Her voice held a discordant note of disdain in it. "I know Jesya. I know her very well. She runs the binclu bordello just down the street."

 

"Hello again, Raika," Jesya said quietly. "It's nice to see you."

 

Raika snorted in derision. "Wish I could say the same." Then she gave him an apologetic glance. "Listen, brother dear, I hate to run like this, but there are still chores I need to do at the farm that cannot wait now that the rain is over." She fixed Jesya another scathing look then turned back to her brother. "Will you be coming back soon?"

 

"Probably not for another few days," he replied. "There's a lot of catching up I need to do, and I need to take care of the paperwork that will officially, and permanently, discharge me from the army. Then I'm through with fighting and I'll come home for good."

* * * * *

Bosta wiped the trading post bar before setting down fresh bottles of lini wine. He threw the cleaning rags behind the counter. A shout rose from the back of the room. Another bar fight, Bosta thought. Well, the bouncer would take care of it. Barroom brawls were commonplace now that the Karseth/Zahnia-Modu wars were over with. Karsethians and Zahnians came in and continuously celebrated their victory late into the night. By morning soldiers were sprawled out on the floor, and furniture was overturned. No matter. There was always enough business to pay for repairs and have a sizable profit left over.

 

He looked at his sundial. Almost time for closing. He began putting drinks behind the counter for the night. Bosta heard a thunderous crash in the back of the room. He turned around to see the fight was still in full progress, and his bouncer laid on the floor unconscious.

 

"The war is over, Hashim!" he heard a voice yell. "The Modu are defeated!"

 

The one called Hashim shot back, "I will not rest until I have slit every single one of those cathrasinkeesha's throats."

 

"Listen to reason, Hashim," the other pleaded. "The war has changed everybody. Made some into bloodthirsty animals and others into unfeeling statues or witless babes. The war is over!" He punctuated every word of the last sentence with a jab of his finger into the palm of his hand. "It's time to stop this craziness and let what healing can be done begin."

 

Hashim's eyes shone with a strange light. Like being possessed by a demon harpy. "Calling me an animal, eh, Bensi?" His lips curled in a feral snarl. "Let's just see how much of the harpy is inside of me."

 

Bosta's large ears rang with the one word he just heard. He turned to act. Bosta unsheathed the dagger he always kept at his side.

 

Hashim, in the throes of madness, turned his sword on the other man. The one called Bensi replied, "I don't want to fight you old friend. The fighting's over."

 

Hashim paid no attention. He was too wrapped up in his own irrational chimeras. Instead of seeing Bensi's face, he saw only that of the enemy. Hashim made a swing with his sword. Bensi swerved, and the sword missed slitting his belly open by scant inches.

 

This continued on for some time until Lowen began to tire. His exhaustion nearly cost him his life. Lowen had taken his armor off earlier and had no protection for his body. Something he regretted doing. A swipe of the sword cut into the back side of his neck narrowly missing his spine. Blood came pouring out of the wound, and a wave of dizziness swept over Bensi. Darkness came to greet him, but he tried to stave it off. He knew if he lost consciousness, he might never wake up. However, it was a losing battle. He sank to the floor. The last thing he saw before he went under was Hashim dropping beside him, a gold-hilted dagger in his back. And another face. Somebody whom he called father.

 

Bosta said to the small crowd that gathered to watch, "Somebody get the village kauro and have her sent to my binclu. The rest of you hitch up my wagon and help me get him on it to take back to my home. This man is dying."

* * * * *

Raika moved quietly around the binclu fixing the evening meal. The smell of fruit-based ca ribs wafted around the table. There were rata wax candles burning on the table. They filled the room with a rich, woodsy scent. Setting the meal on the table, she looked around the three-room binclu. The main room held a stove-fire to cook with, a table, a straw mat to sit on, two chairs by the stove-fire, and curtained windows. the other two rooms were bedrooms she and her father slept in.

 

Raika sighed. When would Father be home, she wondered. He was usually home by now. She was sitting down to eat when she heard the neigh of horses pulling up in front of the binclu. Raika got up from the chair and went to the door. She was her father driving the wagon and several people sitting in back holding something down.

 

"Raika!" Bosta yelled as he stopped the wagon. "Get my room ready. we have an injured man in the back, and Aleshiba is on her way."

 

Raika rushed into her father's room. She pulled back the covers on the divan and lit a fire in the firepit. Water. He'd need water, too. It was poured into a basin and a rag placed beside it. Four men then brought a bloody, blond-haired man into the room. Raika gasped when she finally got a good look at the injured man they brought in. Goddess, it was Lowen! "What happened?" she yelled to Bosta.

 

"An old war buddy of his succumbed to war sickness and the demon harpy's spirit," Bosta quickly explained. "I had to kill him or else Lowen would be on his way to Ceani's glade instead of his friend."

 

Before he was placed on the divan, Raika ordered them to take off all of Lowen's armor and clothing.

 

"But lady," one protested, "he's injured and a-bleeding."

 

"He won't be anything if the kauro can't tend to his wound," she shot back.

 

They obeyed her. Soon Lowen was laying on his stomach as buff as the day he was born. Raika didn't blush, for she was accustomed to seeing undressed men when it came to tending injured farm workers. She pulled the ca robes up over his midsection and changed the poor bandaging on his neck. Blood rushed over the bedding, but Raika changed the bandages fast enough where blood loss was minimal.

 

"Where is Aleshiba," Bosta yelled. He paced back and forth in the main room.

 

As she sat there tending Lowen's wounds, Raika though back over the years about her and her adopted brother. A distant, blurry memory materialized in Raika's mind. A young Karsethian of thirteen years dawdled a baby on his knee. The baby giggled at the game of Horsewing they played. The Karsethian in her memory was fair and young with white-blond hair and eyes the color of Kalan sapphires. When Raika was six, she remembered Lowen coming home on leave. He brought with him a kichi doll for her from Garrad, Karseth. On her thirteenth birthday, she commenced with honors from the village school, having no mage craft to learn, and Lowen was there to tell her how proud he was of his sister. Also, the repeated points of contention between her and Lowen's concubine friend, Jesya. However, there was one memory that stood out in her mind: the last time Raika saw Lowen when she was twenty.

 

Lowen had been injured almost as badly as he was now. He had been in the healing kauro's binclu. Raika had just received word from her father that he was hurt. She had made her way over to Aleshiba's binclu, fearing the worst. Raika had never known such abject fear in hear life. She was mortally afraid of losing him. Luckily, he survived, and when he opened his eyes, she was elated. And when he said, she was the most beautiful sight he could possibly see after nearly dying, a nameless, overwhelming feeling welled up in her, and it had stayed with her since.

 

Just then Aleshiba, the village kauro, came into the room. "I got here as soon as I heard, Bosta," she said upon her arrival. "Where is he?"

 

"He's in my room on the divan. Raika tended to his wounds as best she could, but he needs a healer."

 

Aleshiba went into the room and knelt beside the divan. she lay her hands on his neck and shoulder. Probing the wound and the surrounding area with fingers and magic she sought the extent of his injuries. With a hefty sigh, she revealed her diagnosis. "It is bad. He lost a lot of blood and the muscles in his shoulder were slashed. His shoulder blade was also cut. This will take a while."

 

Aleshiba's lips moved in a silent chant and she fell into a

self-induced trance. She placed her hands on Lowen's shoulder. Her magic, iridescent and cool, flowed into his body. Muscle fibers mended and pain eased in its chilly wake. Bone fused itself back together. The flow of blood from the wound was staunched. After an hour of healing him in a trance state, she pinched one end of his wound. With her other finger, she magically mended the wound. The light beam materialized into silk sutures. Aleshiba came out of her trance state. "The muscles and bone are mended, and the wound is closed. I'll prepare an herbal draught for his pain. It will be several months before he regains the full use of his arm. He'll need bed rest for at several days. The stitiches will disappear on their own. I'll be back periodically to check on him." With that, she exited the same manner she came in.

 

Bosta came in to check on Lowen. "Gods, I never should have let him go."

 

Raika's pearlescent eyes were inquisitive. "I barely remember him leaving when I was a baby, but what exactly happened?"

 

"When your mother was killed---" he began.

* * * * *

A small group of Zahnians huddled over a freshly dug grave in the burial garden. Bosta Chek stood at the foot of the grave, holding a baby Raika. Raika was too young to understand. Too young to understand the war that ravaged the land. Too young to understand the entity, Death, who claimed her mother and several loved ones for her own. She only knew Mama went on a very long visit to Inlasani's sister, Ceani, goddess of the underworld, and wouldn't be coming back.

 

Bosta knew only too well the horrors of war. For years now, all Zahnians and their more powerful allies, the Karsethians, had been at war with the Modu people. Kadar was a cruel and mad ruler who stopped at nothing in his attempts to conquer all the kingdom. He was a ravager and a slaughterer, pillaging the land as he saw fit. Some say he had the blessing of the goddess of darkness, Saylen. For centuries he found a way to use his black magic to stay immortal. Aside from his bloodthirsty urge to kill and conquer, he had another obsession. A destiny of another he tried to thwart. A life he spent almost forever trying to destroy. These two things alone made him the most dangerous being to mankind. He attacked the Zahnians five years ago because of their rich Zahndium deposits they mined and their rich farmlands. Zahnia was very nearly defeated until Karseth came to their aid. Karsethians and Zahnians were bound by an ancient treaty which made them land brothers and allies. In the last few months, they pushed the Modu imperial army to the far border of Karseth, far away from Zahnia. But not before Kadar reigned a final blow seven suns before. Leaving a decoy squadron on the border, he took his remaining mage-forces and leaded a final raid on Zahnia. The Karsethians and Zahnians heard about the surprise attack from spies, but they didn't get back there in time. By the time they arrived, much of the stored Zahndium was stolen and over half the village of Peto was destroyed. Bosta and Lowen rushed to their binclu to see if everyone was safe. What they saw nearly turned their stomachs and their hearts inside out.

 

The binclu was in shambles. Tables were overturned. Chairs were splintered. The drapes were ripped off the wooden curtain rods. A clay sculpture of the family lay on the floor in pieces. Parts of it were ground into the dust by a pair of Modu soldier's feet. The scuffled footprints could still be seen where the figurine lay shattered. Lowen rushed into the bedroom. He saw something that made him freeze in the doorway. "What is it?" Bosta asked urgently.

 

"No." Lowen grabbed Bosta before he could go in. "Don't go in there, father."

"What is it?" he repeated. "Let me in there." He broke Lowen's hold and bounded into the room.

 

"Nooooo!"

 

Bosta's scream rang out in the still room. He dropped to his knees beside the inert form of his wife. Her throat had been slashed from side to side. He took one look at her lifeless face. Her eyes were wide open. Unseeing, they held the emotions she felt in her final moments. There was the agony of being tortured by the Modu before she died. And anguish. So much anguish. When Lowen viewed his adopted mother's body, he swore he saw a dried trail of a single tear on her face. Her lips were open as if she had tried to saw something. With violently trembling hands, Bosta reached out to close his wife's eyes. He couldn't bear looking at her frozen pain any longer.

 

Then a faint cry came from underneath a pile of rubble. "Raika!" Lowen said.

 

Bosta and Lowen hurried over and started digging in the rubble. Lowen pulled out a dirt and blood-streaked baby. Raika was covered with cuts and bruises. Her cries were weak and pathetic, but she was alive. Bosta took her from Lowen and held her fast as if she possessed his very life force. He remained like that for several moments. Thank Inlasani she's alive, Bosta thought. Raika must live for everybody's sake. He would protect her. He must protect her, with his very life if ever necessary. Raika must never fall into Kadar's hands. Everything hinged on her very survival. If his daughter perished, so would all of Bai Kapraio. "Lay Nepetalla on the divan; there's nothing Aleshiba can do for my wife now," Bosta said, his voice absolutely devoid of any remnants of emotion. "Then we'll take Raika to Aleshiba."

 

After Lowen took care of Nepetalla, he followed Bosta and Raika through the smoky streets of the village. "I can't stand by and watch this all," Lowen mused, "not after what happened to Nepe."

 

"You can't mean..." Bosta replied .

 

"I'm going to join the battle," Lowen finished simply. "I must call vengeance on the people--no, heathens--who murdered my mother and nearly killed my sister."

 

"Reconsider, Lowen," Bosta pleaded. "Raika needs the both of us, now more than ever. Nepetalla's death proves that. Kadar can get to Raika anywhere, anytime."

 

"All the more reason for me to join the batter, father. I can better protect her on the front lines rather than staying home playing farmer. I promise to you on Nepetalla's spirit I'll come back. Alive," he added.

* * * * *

"Aye, Lowen had indeed kept his promise," Bosta finished. "But at what cost to my own adopted son." He looked at Lowen's helpless, injured laying on the divan.

 

"Lowen will get well, father," Raika replied. "He always was a strong man."

 

If anything had happened to him or if his arm is crippled for life," Bosta lamented, "it's all my fault. I should have tried harder to make him stay home."

 

"Father, be glad he's still alive," Raika brushed her long auburn hair back. "Like the Karsethian proverb, 'Hold no blame or fault of your own. For though the orgins may diverge, the outcome almost always will not.' Had he stayed home instead of going to war, the result would've been the same. He's too smart to let himself get killed. And he'll pull through this. Have faith in Inlasani."

 

"You're right, dearest daughter," Bosta conceded. "Faith in Inlasani and Lowen's own wits are more than a match for anything the Modu have, even Kadar's mage-soldiers."

 

"I'm going to check on Lowen now," Raika said as she went into his room.

 

Raika sat down in a chair beside the divan. She looked at Lowen. He was older than she remembered. The Lowen she knew had been youthful in his appearance. Fair smooth, skin, pure white-blond hair. This man's face was hardened by twenty years of war. His skin was burned dark by endless moons in the blistering sun. though barely discernible, silver streaks threaded their way through his blond hair. Wrinkles lined the area around his lips and eyes.

 

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, Lowen vaguely sensed somebody was watching him. He struggled through the blackness that enveloped him to open his eyes. Gods, he wanted to open his eyes! But the darkness continued pulling him back down. Lowen kept pushing against restraints holding back his consciousness until a moan parted his own lips. Eyes slowly opened. A blurred, hazy image slowly came into focus before his weary eyes. A woman's anxious face. Long auburn hair cascading over her shoulders and falling over one eye. Those eyes. Only one person he knew had eyes that color. They were white. No iris or pupil, just white with an iridescent sheen that shimmered and brightened with intensity as her emotions changed. "Gods and goddesses be praised. I'm not in Ceana's glade," he said in a hoarse whisper before he closed his eyes.

 

Raika bent closer to Lowen. She breathed a sigh of relief. This time his sleep was a healthy one. In a flurry of doeskin and light wool, Raika rushed quietly out of the room to tell her father the good news. "Father! Father! Lowen awoke!"

 

Bosta looked up with a start from the book he was reading beside the stove-fire. He threw down his book and got up. "Is he well?" He started towards the room.

 

Raika lay a restraining hand on him. "No, father. He's sleeping again. But it is a healthy sleep."

 

Bosta heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods. Well, I'll talk to him when he's feeling up to it."

 

"He'll be asleep for many hours yet." Raika looked thoughtful for a second. "Father, something just came back to my mind. Something about the story you were telling me about why Lowen left. Why was it imperative I remain alive? Why place one life above all others in the village?"

 

Bosta's eyes opened up wide. How much should he tell her before she was ready? "You are destined for something great, daughter of my soul. It's important your life be preserved because the freedom of an entire race depends upon it."

 

Bosta was a master at hiding his emotions, but Raika caught the flash of---fear?---in his eyes before he covered his slip. "There's more. You're keeping something from me, father."

 

"Ah---no, Raika," Bosta replied. "It was something Aleshiba prophesied the day you were brought to us. Her powers go beyond mere healing, daughter."

 

"If you say so, father..." Raika's voice trailed off doubtfully.

 

"I do say so," Bosta replied. he ushered her towards her own bedroom. "It's late, and we must get an early start tomorrow. Off to bed with you now."

 

"Father, I'm twenty-three years old, not five. I'm not a baby anymore," Raika protested.

 

"But I am your father, and will be until the end of time. Now off with you."

 

After Raika disappeared into her room and closed the dividing curtain, only then did bosta heave a mental sigh of relief. I nearly let the secret go before its time. She's not even nearly prepared to know the extent of her destiny. If she learns of it before she is ready, she would never forgive me if it didn't destroy her first.

 

Three months later, Raika woke to a scraping noise outside the binclu. She swung her legs out of bed and hurried to the door to see what the noise was. She saw him trying to carry in some heavy food stores from the barn. "Lowen!" she cried. "What are you doing? Aleshiba said you shouldn't strain your arm and shoudlers. Now back with you!"

 

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