Known Afterlife (The Provider Trilogy, Volume One) (11 page)

"Muzar can be saved along with all the good that comes with his salvation," Janison finally replied.

"I had hoped you would say that." Stalling's relief, even in the muffled conditions, was palpable. "How?"

"His soul must regenerate. If not, his human vessel will die."

"I concluded the same but the solution still evades me."

"It is beyond our ability
to provide Muzar a solution," Janison stated with conviction. "But we can provide him the means to find the solution on his own."

Chapter 9

Steffor found little comfort in his return to the House of Kilton. He had entered from one of the many town side portals located at the far west end of the compound and roamed the expanse of halls and stairs for a while, silently passing the numerous training centers, dining halls and auditoriums. The residence, shifted deep into the lake's curved rim, had not changed since his departure over a decade ago, causing his recent transformation to weigh all the heavier.

In no mood for a reunion, he avoided the score of Guardians and apprentices still active despite the late hour and made his way lakeside, to th
e long hall providing access to the dozens of private quarters. The first unoccupied room he chose was like all the rest: small with three, unadorned walls, veneered smooth by their own resin that accentuated the marbled grain. The fourth wall was a partially enclosed terrace overlooking the vast lake. He walked across the room, throwing his travel bag onto the soft sleeping pallet located against the left wall and flopped down on one of the round cushions littering the patio.

Steffor gazed upon the tranqui
l waters and tried to release his mind upon the moonlit waves. His mind drifted over the eastern shore, where the rim was but a few feet above lake level, escaping in the simple beauty of the multiple docks and piers shifted from the rim. A handful of harvest, preservative and naval Shifters, utilizing the harvest moon to gather a few extra loads of the lake’s aquatic vegetables and fruits, sat comfortably around their boats and docks as they savored their evening meal.

Peaceful as the setting was, the emot
ional tension from the day's travels with Calivera persisted. Despite her undaunted attempts to countervail his feelings, Steffor's passion for Calivera had not waned. If anything, it had only grown since parting.

Women could be frustrating. This much he h
ad learned from prior relationships and growing up with three older and one younger sister. He admired the fiery compassion found in the opposite sex and was quick to forgive their often-fluctuating temperament. Honed for years, he came to trust this barometer of the female species and its accuracy in deciphering their true feelings, no matter how much words or actions conveyed otherwise. He had picked up what Calivera was putting down and it told him, loud and clear, without a shadow of doubt, she shared his ardor.

Even so, her parting words managed to darken his outlook. While Calivera had treated him with respect and kindness, her staunch efforts to keep their relationship platonic had caused Steffor to second-guess everything. For reasons that continued
to allude, she seemed determined to deny their connection. Worse yet, she appeared bent on hurting him. Neither reality settled well.

Mired deep in doubtful thoughts, a savory aroma wafted into the room and broke his concentration. A second after he sensed
the familiar presence of another.

"I always find a warm meal and cold drink helps the meditative process. Especially after a day of travel," said a women's voice from his open doorway.

"Even better when shared with a close friend," Steffor replied as he stood and turned to face Martna.

"Well, lucky for you, I brought enough for two," she replied, holding to her side with one hand a tray laden with two steaming bowls and two tall mugs. With an alluring grin, Martna crossed the room in three long strides, st
ealthy with slight bounce of step and soft pad of feet, and placed the tray down between pillows before turning back to face Steffor.

Standing within a few inches of him, Martna drew her broad shoulders back and placed her hands flat on the small of her ba
ck. Her arms and elbows flared out in this fashion, lips pursed to one side with chin forward, hazel eyes studying Steffor with probing concern.

Her friendly stare comforted Steffor, reminding him how much he missed Martna
’s presence.

"You cut your hair,"
Steffor commented, finding he liked the wild bangs cropping her forehead and face versus the tightly drawn back pony tail she wore for so many years.

"Yeah, well, I figured it was about time I started showing off the length of my tail," she said, turning h
er head so he could see the light brown Guardian tail extending several inches past her bare shoulders and feathered hair.

"It looks good, makes you look more mature," he said, in truth, thinking it made her all the more attractive. Her back still to him,
his gaze lingered a bit longer and soaked in the rest. Few rivaled Martna’s aesthetic mastery over garments, currently a blend of tan, brown and green. He admired the fetching halter-top connected at the neck by a thin loop, exposing the length of her supple back and just enough side cleavage of her firm breasts to be both provocative and unpretentious. He risked venturing down farther, following the low cut, snug pants, ending with a slight flare above her sculpted calves.

"Mature enough to be a Teuton?" S
he asked, turning back to face him, the movement filling his nostrils with a potent concoction of honeysuckle and oiled-leather.

"Absolutely," Steffor answered, a little too swiftly. Martna's forehead knit and her right eyebrow rose in response and, as it
had in their past, the look of disapproval on Martna's face put Steffor's rush of lust in check.

"So, I assume your arrival here means you will be attending the Forging Ceremony?"
she asked, intently holding his eye with her own.

"Yes, I sent word as much,
did it not reach here?"

"Aye, young Frestin connected to a Mystic moments after seeing you and conveyed your correspondence with him quite clearly."

"Why did you..." Steffor stopped, biting his tongue, forcing himself not to take the bait. He loved Martna and valued her friendship like none other and, a few years ago, would have gladly locked horns with her and hotly debated the principles he used to justify his actions as of late. The conflict between his liberal interpretations and her rigid sense of duty, the spark that ignited their short lived but intense relationship, was a battle Steffor had no interest in or energy for pursuing.

"Is that Clarkston's veadle stew?"
he asked as he sat down and grabbed a bowl.

"And a pint of his jinus stout," she said w
ith a sigh, sitting down to join him.

They ate and drank in comfortable silence and enjoyed the majestic view. Their meal finished, Martna turned to face him, crossed her legs, straitened her back and closed her eyes. He matched her position and within mom
ents, synchronized his breath to her steady cadence, relaxed his mind and finally released his troubled thoughts.

Ginllats had traveled well above Toliver's evergreen canopy by the time Steffor
’s head nodded with a jerk, snapping him from the blissful conscious unconsciousness experienced by those lost in the state of lucid theta. Martna, still seated across from him, stirred and looked over, groggy and bleary eyed.

"Thank you Steffor. It has been too long," she said, standing up.

"Too long indeed," Steffor replied, standing up to face her. "Thank you Martna, your presence here...now...was exactly what I needed."

Both moved to the other in that moment and embraced
, strong and supportive like Guardians, close and familiar like former lovers. They held each other for several long seconds before Martna pulled her chin off his shoulder, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him firmly on the forehead.

"It is good to see you amongst the living Steffor," she said, stepping back to look at him one more time. The second s
he left the room, he collapsed on the pallet and embraced a deep, dreamless sleep.

*****

Steffor awoke to the blended scent of piney resin permeating from the walls of his room and triffle root tea that emanated from somewhere down the hall. Sitting up, he filled the basin across from his bed with cold water and washed with the accompanied dulsa leaf, exfoliating a layer of grime from the day prior. Looking out past the terrace to see dawn was only moments away, he hurriedly reformed his garments and headed out the doorway.

He did not pass nor hear another soul during his travels across the complex of halls and steps. He found this odd, considering the training facility was normally t
eaming with activity by this point. Then, ashamed by his negligence, caught up in his own world, he remembered the Forging Ceremony was today. Most everyone must have left hours ago, completing any demanding tasks before arriving for the ceremony.

The real
ization pushed aside his concerns about Calivera, replacing them with arguably a more contemplative and pressing issue. How did he plan to participate in the ceremony as one of the chosen without connecting to the Mysticnet or wielding the Source?

He was n
o closer to answering the question when he entered the town-side entrance hall fifteen minutes later. Steffor made his way over to the breakfast counter located on the north wall and poured a mug of hot tea stationed upon the long counter. He followed the high arching curved wall as he turned around and looked out the triangular skylights shifted into the domed ceiling high above to view a blended sky of cranberry and gray. Grabbing a warm scone, he crossed the long gathering room, weaving through sectional couches, lounge chairs, tables and desks that occupied the open space, and out the archway entrance.

Half done with his cup of tea, relishing the stimulating buzz, Steffor walked to the far left corner of the large veranda and casually leaned his elbows o
nto the ornate railing to watch the sunrise from the southeast. A clear day, the panoramic vista was breath taking, capturing the tiered town directly below basked in golden light and the Forging River, formed at the base of the mountain, sparkling like a jeweled necklace as it flowed down the sloping bough, all the way down to Teuton Valley miles away.

Sight of the sacred land and the Forging Tree squarely in its midst broke his trance, reminding him he was no closer to finding a solution to his quandary.

"Ninety two years I have called this place home and the novelty of watching that sunrise has yet to wane."

Steffor turned toward the archway opening to see Kilton advance in his direction. The sight of Kilton, the most influential person in his life, was i
mmediately heartwarming.

"I have missed you Steffor."

"As I have you Master Kilton."

Right hands clasped, forearms crossed and each matched the other's strong press. A minute later, Kilton stepped back and searched Steffor's tear swelled eyes, probing his
aching heart with tender care. Holding his breath, he was relieved beyond measure to see Kilton's face register the familiar essence of the Steffor he once knew.

"The House is clear of all but us. Would you be so kind as to assist an old man and accompany
me to the ceremony," Kilton said, leaning dramatically on his staff.

"It would be my honor." Steffor openly smiled at the comment, measuring his elder with a skilled eye. Over two centuries old, graying temples, distinguished creases along an otherwise sof
t face and a Guardian Tail loop thrice around reaching the small of his back, were the only physical traits revealing his age. Still gifted with immense physical strength like all Guardians, Kilton's stature was small for the warrior race yet, as was the case whenever in his presence, Steffor always managed to feel dwarfed by the man.

This feeling had little to do with Kilton's extensive acts of heroism or recorded victories in the Games. No, it was Kilton's consistent and unparalleled ability to treat all
of the Provider's creatures with love, no matter the circumstances, that kept the young Guardian in awe of his master. Kilton truly advanced every soul he encountered, a living example of how to live the Certain Way.

In short order, they reached the lower
avenues of town, where waterfall and mountainside transitioned into a narrow river with choppy rapids and ridged bark. Residents lined the streets to bid them farewell, the appearance of Kilton always a joyous event, much less when accompanied by the popular and now mysterious Steffor, traveling to Teuton Valley together for the rare event of anointing the next Teuton. It was a special day indeed.

Steffor, waving enthusiastically and shaking out stretched arms and hands, searched the crowd hoping to catch a
glimpse of Calivera but found no sign of her.

"Did you find who you were looking for?" Kilton asked once they cleared the town, having traveled about a mile south past the fork he and Calivera last parted.

"What, uh…no, I did not," Steffor stammered.

"Was
it the lovely Healer I have heard so much about, the one responsible for bringing you back to us?"

"Yes. Her name is Calivera. Do you think she was lovely?"

"Aye, from the Mysticnet images I saw, she was very beautiful. But, after a long life full of intimate submersions within a healers table, I am afraid I lost my ability to be an objective judge when it comes to the physical beauty of Healers," he said with a knowing wink. "But, if your Calivera is the same tall blonde who arrived in town last evening, she is lovelier then most, causing quite a stir amongst the young Shifters and Guardians around town before departing at dawn."