| The morning found the Cleansers' convoy bustling with life, preparing for the relocation to Dor'atehn. Twelve of the thirteen children that had been claimed were doing their parts to help, having been promised safety by a gentle Tracker with amber eyes. One child stood alone, staring at all the others with a look of uncertainty, a look of utter confusion and loss. The commotion made him nervous, he wasn't used to so much movement. Life as he had known it had been quiet and peaceful, until they had come. The families that had lived scattered across the Lariian Fields had come together weeks ago; their seers had felt something. They gathered, nervous. His mother had held him tightly, reciting to him everything she thought she knew about the Cleansers and the Acharya. Shorin didn't understand any of what she had meant, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. The day after his mom spent hours holding him there was screaming, and blood. The air seemed to turn to fire around him, but none of the fire touched them. Then, suddenly, shards made of ice began to fall from the sky, and his mother lay at his feet. The man with amber eyes had looked at him sadly, and picked him up, carrying the confused child away from his dead mother. There was so much in this world the child did not understand, but to understand this world meant to be corrupted by its pain and sadness. There was so much in this world a child should never have to understand. Jenya walked through the small camp, giving brief instructions and lifting heavier objects for the weaker servants as he made his way to Dharin. Jenya couldn't be certain without talking to him, but the Moon-Chylde's mind seemed to be in another place, which was rare. When Jenya awoke to birdsong - an unusual occurrence after a Cleansing - Dharin was nowhere to be found. He had been gone when Jenya fell asleep, and he remained gone when Jenya awoke. Under normal circumstances, that would not have been cause for worry, yet this was a world in which normal circumstances did not exist. "You never came back last night," he spoke softly, mindful of Corridan's prying ears nearby. "Where were you?" "I was thinking," Dharin sighed. His voice was close to monotonous, but this wasn't terribly far from the norm. He was folding blankets, putting them into large bags perfectly and neatly. Moon Children were notoriously meticulous, often to the point of annoyance. "Thinking about what?" "Jenya, I really don't wish to discuss this now," he kept folding blankets. There was room for five in each bag, with space for them to shift. Such allowances always had to be made. Dharin paused to stare at Corridan, who stood with his arms crossed, listening intently. An amused, semi-jealous smile played on Corridan's lips; his long onyx hair barely stirred in the breeze. "Corridan," Dharin smiled. "I heard tell that the servants could use assistance covering up the latrines." Jenya struggled not to laugh at the smoldering hatred in the Mage's black eyes. "He is more than just a little creepy," Jenya grinned as Corridan stalked off. His deep black robes remained still, even as Corridan walked away. Dharin nodded. "But he is good at what he does. One of the best, which is why the Acharya placed him with us." "I'm not so sure he quite deserves to be with us," Jenya scoffed. "All right, maybe he's good, but are you sure he's that good?" Dharin laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Find something useful to do, Jenya." He placed a hand on the Sun-Chylde's shoulder. "We'll talk once the convoy has begun to move - you, Mal'kenar and myself." Jenya grinned, and strolled off to help a group of children tugging at the canvas of a tent. Only a few hours passed until the convoy was ready to move. With luck, they could reach Dor'atehn by nightfall. Since the children and servants were riding in the carts, the nine Cleansers - four Magi, and five Trackers - were forced to travel on foot. They could easily keep pace with the carts, as long as Seer continuously swigged Qu'elba to fight off fatigue. Jenya, Dharin and Seer took the lead to the left, walking about sixty paces from the convoy. Corridan and the two female Trackers, Sha'en and Lalreth, took the lead to the right. The remaining two Magi, Kelnai and Felanya, took up the rear with the remaining Tracker, Tearahn. This triangular formation was protocol for relocation. "All right, Sir Moody, what were you thinking about all last night while you were gone?" Jenya emphasized the word gone melodramatically. Dharin winced slightly, and avoided looking at Seer or Jenya by focusing on the ground. He wanted to assure himself that the decision he was making was his own, and if he looked at Seer, he might later feel forced. If he looked at Jenya, he might lose his resolve entirely. The gesture, and Dharin's hesitation caught Jenya's attention and held it more tightly than any words could have. "I'm going to leave the Cleansers," he said quietly. Jenya blinked, at a loss for words. "If that's what you want," he said slowly and uncertainly. Dharin only nodded, letting his eyes meet Jenya's. There was a heavy sadness on Dharin's face, thick enough to dull the fire that usually burned behind those bright sapphire eyes. Jenya smiled. If he smiled, maybe the sadness in Dharin's eyes could go away, or at least lessen. Dharin, Seer, Shorin - even Kelnai - they all carried the weight of the world behind their eyes. Worse than that, in Jenya's opinion at least, they all tried to carry the weight by themselves. That made them fools to Jenya, fools that would eventually perish beneath the cumbersome bulk of the troubles of their lonely worlds. "Last night, I left the cart, and spoke with Mal'kenar for a while." Jenya noticed that Dharin no longer called her Seer. "And I had some things to consider." Dharin paused again. The sudden hesitation in Dharin's actions was new to Jenya, somewhat frightening. Mal'kenar smiled half-heartedly, another meaningless grin nullified by the overwhelming sadness in her eyes, only made worse as Dharin went on. "After my parents died, the life of a Tracker was all that I wanted to know. I was young when they died, only a few months shy of eleven when the Taer'shal faction made its presence known in Serfahlen. My parents died because they supported the Acharya, and the peace he had brought to Sharan'akar. After their burial, I could have crossed the Sea of Nevahri'n and gone to Morantfel to live with my mother's drunken brother, but I had a fear of the sea," he laughed. Children fear such foolish things. All the sea can do is kill you, but not out of spite or resentment. Only people are capable of such cruelty. "So I chose to go to the Bastion of Shanra to train to become a Tracker. I wasn't able to protect my parents," He shook his head, his gait slowed from the gravity of the troubles of the past. "But if I became a Tracker, something they could have been proud of, then perhaps I could protect their memories, and their graves." "Dharin, you're rambling," Jenya laughed. "I know and I should get to the point. The point is this: I am leaving. I suppose it doesn't truly matter why." He shrugged and quickened his pace, striding so that he could join Corridan's group. Once there, he would give some last minute instructions regarding their arrival in Dor'atehn: ensure that all children made it to a safe place, then look for the symbol of the Bastion to be posted in an inn. Once located, gather all the Cleansers to the safe house, and await the Acharya's arrival with new orders. Jenya and Mal'kenar simply watched Dharin for a moment. "He's leaving for you," Jenya's words lacked inflection, but Mal'kenar heard the accusatory undertone, saw the hurt that lit Jenya's amber eyes. Mal'kenar nodded, keeping her head down. "I did not know about his parents until last night," it was almost an apology. "Would it have changed anything?" "It would have changed everything," she almost snapped. "If I had known, I could never have even hinted that I wanted him to leave with me. I would never have even told either of you, I would have simply left for Varikelle in the dead of night." Her tired eyes scanned the distance, though even if any Taer'shal had lurked in the countryside, her drunken vision probably would not have caught it. As the Jihann gained more control, her tolerance for alcohol waned. "There is so much that I do not know," she said irritably. "Because you never ask!" Jenya had to laugh in disbelief. "Dharin would paint you pictures of every event in his life, if only you asked." "What do you know about him, then? How much have you asked?" She scoffed. "There is a lot I never had to ask, because I was there when it happened. Dharin and I were born on the same day, almost twenty-seven years ago. Our parents always claimed we were inseparable since, that we were so much alike even though we looked like night and day." He stopped speaking as Mal'kenar took several drinks from her flask. "You have no idea how much being a Tracker has meant to him." Mal'kenar swallowed thickly. "Then tell me." Jenya hesitated, wondering if the knowledge might only hurt her. He decided that since she had asked the questions, he could not be held responsible for the consequences that attached themselves to the answers. "Dharin left Serfahlen, our hometown, the day after his parents were put into the ground. Since they were respected people, and the Taer'shal refuse to use any Rites, their bodies were not burnt." "You were born in Serfahlen?" Mal'kenar looked confused. Jenya nodded. "Dharin, myself, and Kelnai as well. I thought you knew this," he remembered mentioning the lost city, his birthplace, several times in the presence of the Mage. "Perhaps," she shook her head, "I may have simply forgotten." Still keeping stride, Jenya peered at the Mage. Loss of memory? Perhaps she had lost more ground on the battle against her Jihann than originally assumed. He decided not to wonder about it too much. "My parents sent me to join Dharin in the Bastion a month later. They saw how much his absence saddened me," he grinned. "They couldn't have been prouder to see me sent off to become a Tracker." Serfahlen had been the city with the largest number of supporters of the Acharya. "They smiled so much the day I left," he paused. Mal'kenar nodded sadly, because she knew the rest of the story, in a historical context, at least. Sixteen years ago the ground beneath the Cleanser stronghold named Serfahlen opened up and swallowed the ancient city whole. Everything that had existed within twenty miles around the massive city vanished. Jenya and Kelnai's still living parents, the graves of Dharin's mother and father, countless buildings - including the museum which had housed the largest collection in Sharan'akar of artifacts from the last world - all of it simply disappeared. In a perfect ring around where the city had been, the ground was desolate, as if burnt clean and salt-tilled. It would be eons before any curious scholars found the buried remnants of the lost, beautiful city. It would be ages before any explanations could be offered, but by then no one would understand the events as they had happened; they would be misconstrued and used to control fearful masses, as so often happens with natural, and unnatural, disasters. Mal'kenar ignored the sparks in the distance; undoubtedly Felanya was responsible for them. The young Mage - only seventeen years of age - exhibited a tremendous capacity for cruelty. Instead, she watched Dharin argue heatedly with Corridan and Lalreth, while Sha'en simply fawned. Mal'kenar and Jenya marched silently to Dor'atehn. She was too tired and too drunk to want to ask any more questions, from Jenya at least. Once in the safety of an inn, she would ask Dharin herself, about his past, the hierarchy of the Bastion, anything else that came to her once her mind cleared and the pain faded. Maybe she would seek some coin for the telling of a few legends. |