The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil (59 page)

Wide-awake, Aiva gazed up at the ceiling from the floor, listening to the quiet breaths coming from Callum atop the bed. Two days had passed without indication of him regaining consciousness. She didn’t expect to see him stir for at least another full cycle of the sun. At every spare moment, Aiva was at his side, straining to manipulate the energy within his sleeping form. With enough focus it was possible to increase the rate at which his body healed, though it was difficult to know if it was working while he was unable to respond. Her only hope came from the slowly fading bruises along his face and midsection. There were still a few days left before the week would be complete. If he awakened soon, Aiva might be able to hasten the process even more.

At the first sign of the sun brightening the window from behind the curtain she climbed to her feet, staring wistfully at Callum. He looked so peaceful. Perhaps it was better that he not be awake. While in the deep state of slumber he wouldn’t feel the torture of his injuries. She hated the thought of him suffering. If they were able to gain access to a boat at the end of the week, he would have enough pain to deal with while still recuperating, no longer having the comfort of a bed and a roof over their head under which to relax.

It was time to find her way to Enokih. Their days together hadn’t improved, though it was more tolerable when they were engrossed in their work. The number of patients seeking Enokih’s wisdom had increased since Aiva’s arrival. Something about Aiva fascinated the Tunirons. They called her the blue-eyed witch. Not wanting to make her seem more important, Enokih rarely let Aiva do anything other than assist with the energy manipulation. Simple procedures. Many of which Aiva felt were nothing more than a display of power for the sake of the villagers to solidify Enokih’s role as the witch doctor.

Stepping quietly into the hallway Aiva closed the door behind her, moving only a few paces before becoming aware of Uttae’s broad frame moving toward her in the dim light. He walked with confident strides, beckoning her forward. “General,” she said with a grateful smile. With him there, she might finally have some peace from Enokih’s overbearing presence. “Has it really been so long?”

“It has been long enough,” he nodded. “Word has spread quickly of your work here. I have not had a chance to speak with King Ihklos about your predicament, but a messenger was sent upon my arrival home this morning. It seems he has a desire to meet the Vor’shai witch I harbor. We are to leave immediately for the audience.”

“Now?” she gasped. “But you only just arrived. I am not ready and my husband remains asleep under Enokih’s herbs.”

“He will have to remain here with her, then. The King has called for us to come. It is not my practice to make him wait.”

She had no choice than to concede. She was a guest in his home. In his country. If his king called for her, it would be rude not to go. Her only concern was Callum. She didn’t want to leave him alone with Enokih. Out of spite, it was more likely she would set him back to sleep immediately upon waking rather than allowing him to simply regain his bearings. Taking her place at Uttae’s side, Aiva allowed him to guide her toward the door. It was exciting, in a terrifying way, to think of meeting the Tuniron King. She didn’t know what to expect of him. If he was anything like Uttae, he would be an intimidating sight to behold.

She gave no hesitation when Uttae knelt before her, allowing her to position herself on his back the way she had done the day he first showed her from the house. Once she had time to think on it, the experience was pleasant. The weightlessness she felt in soaring through the air, swinging from the branches so far from the ground. In leaving Tunir, she doubted ever feeling anything quite like it again. There was no way to recreate the sensation. She wanted to savor it while she had the chance.

When they reached the ground, her heart pounded from the exhilaration of the descent. Her face was flushed, breathing heavy, knees trembling as she settled her weight upon them. A small unit of Tuniron warriors stood in wait at the bottom. In their midst was a finely crafted litter, a gauzy curtain draped from the elegant roof, lowered to the ground where Uttae set Aiva on her feet. “You will ride here,” he stated boldly. “We can better protect you if we know where you are at all times and give no chance of you lagging behind.”

“How far is it to King Ihklos?” she asked, distracted by the sensation of one of the men taking her hand, assisting her onto the platform. He gazed at her curiously, staring deeply into her eyes. His attentiveness drew her attention to the fact that all of the men were staring at her, some more obvious than others, watching her every movement as she took a seat on the cushions provided for her.

“Over half a day’s walk from here, through the jungle into the village of Ghaient,” Uttae explained. His words were broken by a string of unintelligible commands in his native tongue, ordering the men to hoist Aiva into the air. She gripped the cushions tightly, unaccustomed to such a mode of travel, intrigued while at the same time somewhat uncomfortable. “We will arrive for the audience before the sun sets. Afterwards, we will remain in the village throughout the night and begin our return first thing in the morning.”

“We will be gone overnight? But my husband…”

“He will be alright,” Uttae assured her with a sharp nod of his head. “I suspect he is capable of handling himself without you for a couple of days. We will be back in Iachoor before nightfall tomorrow. In his current state, he probably won’t even notice you gone.”

This was terrible! She didn’t want to separate them. The distance was too great. What if something happened to him? What if something happened to
her
? Hands clenched tightly in her lap, she watched Uttae walk toward the front of the unit. There was nothing she could do. If she didn’t go, it would cause more problems. She would run the risk of losing her chance at convincing King Ihklos to help them to the islands. That wasn’t an opportunity she could allow to let slip through her fingers.

With a loud command from Uttae the men began a steady pace along the path. Aiva’s eyes lingered on the trees, longing to be back in her tiny room with Callum. Everything felt more foreboding without him. Only when deprived of his company did she realize how much strength he gave her. Unlike her meeting with Phaezut, there would be no one there to catch her if she fumbled. No one to keep her calm if she panicked. Her only life-line was Uttae, and she couldn’t be sure he would be allowed into the King’s home with her.

Try to relax
. It was easier said than done. The cushions were comfortable enough, but she couldn’t escape the watchful eyes of the men. She felt as if she was on display. Nervously, she tugged at the ties holding the gauzy curtains in place, letting them fall shut on either side. They were sheer, but it granted a mild amount of privacy.

Curling into a ball she let her body lie down, sinking into the soft pillows. It was better than the hard, rough, wood floor at Callum’s bedside. The gentle rocking motion of the platform was hypnotic, lulling her to sleep despite the chaotic thoughts crashing through her mind. Lost in her slumber she was unaware of the journey, time passing in scattered images from disjointed dreams until she was awoken by Uttae’s voice.

“We have arrived, Princess.”

Her eyes fluttered open, instantly aware of the men staring at her again through the opening where Uttae pushed aside the curtain. Rubbing away the remnants of sleep she accepted Uttae’s hand to help her from the platform. Feet firmly on the ground, she let the sight of the village reach her disoriented senses, shocked into sobriety by what she saw before her. The structure they stood in front of was a far cry from any of the buildings she’d seen in the village of Iachoor. It was fashioned from stone, stretched outward to both sides, open windows granting a view into the darkened walls. Flickering torches cast eerie shadows over the moss-covered walls, though it wasn’t the darkness which struck Aiva about the palace. A massive tree seemed to have taken root from atop the roof, the bottom of the trunk reaching over the sides and down to the ground in twisting shapes, giving the illusion of some giant sea creature slowly swallowing it. The roots were like tentacles, creating a natural arch over the door where Uttae now ushered her through.

Awed by the surroundings, Aiva tried to keep her jaw from hanging agape. It was surreal. The age of the structure surpassed anything she could think of having seen before. In Tanispa there were places which had been known to exist for centuries, but she never had an opportunity to witness them with her own eyes, always finding herself trapped within the walls of the palace.
I need to get out more…

A firm grasp on her shoulder pulled her from her thoughts. Blinking, she focused on Uttae’s somber features, his black eyes staring hard into her own. “I should warn you that King Ihklos has never seen a Vor’shai in the flesh before. You might come as a shock to him.”

“Me?” she chuckled. It was humorous to consider. The Tunirons were so different from the people of the north. She’d never thought of the possibility that her people might have the same effect on those in the south. “There is little about me which I consider shocking.”

“For one such as him, you would be surprised,” Uttae nodded.

Aiva looked him over thoughtfully, curious of a single detail that nagged at the back of her mind. It seemed impossible for Ihklos to have never seen a Vor’shai. She had heard her parents speak of the war. Her uncle Enaes came to Tunir not long before he was killed by the Ven’shal. Talks were conducted regarding the alliance which inevitably brought Uttae to Tanispa for the war. “How is it he has never seen my kind before?” she asked. “I know the late Vor’shai Prince visited your lands. Did he not speak with your King?”

“He spoke with our King, yes. But Ihklos was a mere child. His father was on the throne when the alliance was struck between our people,” Uttae stated quietly, cautious not to let his words be overheard by the guards stationed at the door. “Ihklos has only ruled Tunir for a few years, since his father’s death on a hunting expedition. He is a good man, but young. Inexperienced. He will take an interest in your abilities, much the same as others of my people who have never seen your race before. Be patient with him. Do not argue. Eventually the surprise will wear off and he will be able to focus on the request you must ask of him.”

Her desire to have Callum beside her was growing rapidly. She wasn’t ready for this. She felt out of her element, torn from her comfort zone in every possible way, right down to the clothing which barely covered her body. How was she supposed to conduct herself in a professional manner when she felt stripped? Practically naked before the curious stares of the guards.

Holding her still, Uttae detached the sword from her belt, reaching down to retrieve the dagger from the sheath at her thigh. “I will return these once you depart the King’s company,” he stated calmly, his long fingers easily drawing the tiny blade from under the leather bracer at her wrist. “Ally or not, we cannot chance weapons near our King.”

He gave a sharp nod in greeting to the guards as he led Aiva inside, the sound of their footsteps echoing along the stone halls. It was more lavish than she expected, finding the doors sculpted of heavy wood, finely carved with depictions of ancient Tuniron warriors. Silk fabrics hung from the walls, adding color to the otherwise dreary surface. The openness of the structure allowed for little else in the outer corridors without fear of thieves.

Uttae brought her to a wide door, guarded on either side by two broad-shouldered Tuniron men, spears gripped tightly in their hands. At Uttae’s approach they shifted the weapon to their outer hands, displaying their unarmed palms to him in silent greeting. He gave an approving nod, stepping through them to push open the door.

On the other side Aiva could see what appeared to be a throne room, lined from front to back with a red carpet coming to stop at the foot of a high-backed stone seat. A man was positioned atop the throne, idly watching a small group of musicians, gentle percussions floating through the spacious room. When the door opened the man directed his attention to Uttae, rising to his feet immediately. He was a tall man. Muscular, as Aiva had come to expect from all Tuniron men, built for strength in carrying themselves through the trees. His posture was impeccable. Over his bare chest he wore a wide necklace fashioned from the teeth of some large animal, splayed out from his collarbone. The top of his bald head glistened with a thin layer of sweat. His dark eyes fell on Aiva, holding her gaze steady until she couldn’t help looking away.

“King Ihklos. I present to you the Vor’shai Princess, daughter of our ally King Levadis of Tanispa.” Uttae stepped aside after the introduction, motioning for Aiva to step forward. She drew in a deep breath, moving as instructed, afraid of doing anything which might offend the King.

Gracefully, she sank into a formal curtsy, finding the gesture awkward without the fullness of a dress over her legs. Finding her hands with nothing to grasp at the sides, she was reminded of her exposed appearance, rising quickly to place her palms flat against her bare midsection.

Ihklos’s legs were long, his stride smooth and even as he covered the distance between him and Aiva. He gave a snap of his fingers to dismiss the musicians, waiting for them to gather their instruments before speaking. “This is the blue-eyed witch my people tell of?” he stated, the familiar words heavily laden with a thick accent. His voice was deep. Gruff. He sounded far older than Uttae’s description implied. Aiva expected to see a young man seated upon the throne. While Ihklos might be young in age, he certainly gave no evidence of such in appearance and manner.

He walked around Aiva, appraising every detail, reminding her of a hawk circling its prey. When he returned to stand in front of her again he gave a quick nod in Uttae’s direction, signaling his permission to speak.

“She and her husband were shipwrecked by a divastru in the Vai’ld Sea. My daughter has been tending to their injuries since their discovery on our shores.”