The Land's Whisper (58 page)

“What is it?” Brenol asked. The princess
seemed peaceful today, but even more, she was playful. It was a
rarity, and Brenol wanted to relish every moment. He dropped the
fruit to the ground in a moist thud, wiped his hands upon his
clothes, and stickily examined the object she held out to him.

It was about the size of a lady’s bar of
soap, less than half a digit in width, and its lustrous silver
surface was exquisitely engraved with flourishes and flora. Almost
imperceptible hinges edged one side while a delicate latch opened
at the other. It weighed close to nothing and would fit easily in a
breast pocket.

“Open it,” she breathed, leaning in closely
as he probed the tiny latch. She smelled of honey and peach. Brenol
felt dizzy.

“Hmph,” he breathed out in confusion, for as
he clicked open the smooth sides, the inside stared up at him with
the same, lustrous shine. The piece held nothing. He gave her a
friendly, quizzical look.

“I know, I know. But
wait!”
Her hand
leaped forward, closing the lid. She then drew out an identical
case from her other pocket, waved it mischievously in the air, and
lunged out eagerly into the Davoc. Several strides in, she bent
down in the current, allowing the water to soak her as she dropped,
and rested her mouth and case not more than a breath above the
flow. She spoke his name, and with a tiny snip closed her silver
case. The lunitata placed it back in her wet pocket and rose to a
stand. She looked across at him expectantly, holding out her hand
in invitation.

Smiling in confusion, he stepped gingerly
into the Davoc. “Open it,” she instructed, “and hold it to your
ear.” He did so, shaking his head in wonder as her voice whispered
to him.

It’s as clear as the Songra,
he
thought
.
“How does it work?”

She beamed at his obvious wonder. “Ordah had
them.
Aurenals.
I’d never seen one before, but I remember
learning about them as a girl.” Her expression clouded momentarily
before she continued. “There are several in Massada, although I
don’t know how many are still around—they work through the waters’
power. Well, the springs’ power, really. Any water connected to
Ziel—feeding or flowing from. The aurenals have been used to send
messages to other terrisdans.” Her eyes sparked mischievously. “The
Three only know what he did to get them for me.”

Brenol shook his head in disbelief, staring
at the treasure in hand.

“I don’t know if it’ll work all the way to
your world and that pool…” Her eyes glittered at him as she smiled.
They betrayed no hint of sadness about their upcoming departures.
He wondered if she felt any.

He clambered out of the water to join her on
the bank. They stared at each other, dripping.

The whole scene—the light, her face, the
wonder of the aurenal, and the lingering scent of peach—crowded
upon Brenol and softened his legs. He forgot all else but her. Like
a bee driven by instinct, he leaned in and felt her tresses fall
upon his cheeks. He kissed her smooth cheek tenderly, and his heart
thrummed for more. A cool, sudden breeze awakened him to reality,
and with an awkward abruptness he stopped.

Not this way. Not now,
he scolded
himself. He gently pulled back and straightened. Colette glanced
back at him with soft eyes, her lips curved into a tiny smile. His
face flushed in embarrassment.

She thinks I’m young and stupid,
he
thought. His eyes dropped to the ground and he felt a deafening
silence. When he looked up to her again, her face was solemn.

Here I am forgetting myself again,
he
thought. He reached out timidly and squeezed her hand. “It’s
perfect. Thank you.”

“In good accord,” she replied in the Massada
tradition.

Her small smile helped to quell his
discomposure as they began to snake their way back to the
soladrome. Brenol twitched with the urge to scoop her hand into his
but instead spoke of the banalities of their upcoming travels.
Darse would escort her back to Veronia and Isvelle. The journey
would take no longer than three septspan, although Darse had
allowed for more time in case her health required it. Brenol
himself would hike to the cave with Ordah.

To Darse’s house and the life of another
boy.

Thoughts of his own mother flooded him. He
stopped and turned to Colette, finally perceiving something askew.
“Has your mother sent seal, Colette?”

“Just the one,” she said with a faint shake
of the head. Several strands of hair fell forward to hide her
features. “I think she’s nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“I am too.”

Brenol brushed her forearm lightly with his
fingers. He waited for her to continue.

Colette shrugged. “So much has happened… I
don’t know if she blames me for Da. I don’t know… It’s been so
long. And she hasn’t come…”

Brenol cursed silently, feeling the hot
shame of his oversight. He had given little thought to what she
must be experiencing, for his own mind had been preoccupied with
the sorrow of leaving her. He sighed silently and pushed the wisps
of hair from her face. “I’m sorry.”

Colette took it gracefully, thinking he
meant something else. “Bren, we’re friends. You can always ask.
I’ll be fine,” she added with a lighthearted tone. “I know it. And
Bren?”

“Yes?”

“Here.” She thrust a perfectly folded paper
triangle into his hand. “If the aurenals don’t work.”

Brenol smiled, clicked open his case, and
tucked the paper safely into it. As they resumed their walk,
Colette collected his hand in a friendly gesture.

If only this meant more in Massada,
he thought weakly, holding the hand as if it were his lifeline.
Brenol felt his heels grow heavy as they approached the soladrome.
Finally, his trudging ceased altogether. Colette looked to him
questioningly.

“I don’t want to go, but I know I have
to.”

“I know,” she replied easily. “You don’t
have to explain it to me.”

But I do. I do. If you loved me, you’d know
that I do.

“But I’m coming back. I made a promise… It,
well… I’m coming back.”

Her eyes brightened with this revelation.
“Good,” she said.

They continued their walk in pensive
silence.

Ordah and Darse were waiting outside of the
soladrome. The prophet’s eyes brushed over them, and his mouth
curled in the typical scowl. “Ready?” he growled.

Brenol held up a finger and, turning to
Colette, with his free hand pushed a strand of her coffee-dark hair
behind her ear. He patted his pocket with a significant glance,
feeling the aurenal resting soundly. She smiled at him gently.

Could she be more perfect?

Brenol’s heart thrummed as he turned to
Darse. They embraced briefly and, as promised, did not speak a
word. Darse handed off the small travel bag with a wink, and the
two parted.

~

Brenol stood dripping upon the basement
staircase, trying to hold onto his last moments in Massada. He had
approached the cave with both anguish and resolution. He had felt
driven in his purpose but sorrow had gripped his heart.

Remember Arman’s words. Remember.

He had gathered a small stone on the shore.
Its tiny
clink
in his pocket gave him a childish hope that
his treasures might help him maintain a grasping hold on his life
in the other world. But it was slipping away already. He could feel
it.

Remember Arman’s words. Remember.

Ordah’s face had been tight and grim, and he
had spoken in a voice that echoed even when whispered. “You will
return. And the time will be ripe. You will learn that ‘
Blood
shall bring new life.
’”

Brenol had shuddered at the words, more from
hope than fear, and plunged into darkness and damp to press his
body through the never-ending canal.

And now Alatrice.

It had been so long since he had been here.
He was caught between the life he could not yet lead and the life
he no longer wanted to live. His fingertips traced the silver gift,
naturally working the tiny contraption in his absent pondering.

Oh no! The note,
he thought gloomily,
sadly extracting the sodden mess from its case.

He knelt down and delicately opened the mush
of pulp. It tore in several places, but he could still make out the
message.

Thank you. For everything. See you soon,
Bren Zen.

He looked again. It certainly said it.

Flash!

He sat on a cool rock overlooking a lovely
valley. The leaves below caught the sun and tossed the light back
up as if playing a game of beltor. He brimmed with contentment. It
flowed in him as naturally as his own blood.

Colette sat beside him, happily surveying
the afternoon’s revelry.

“
This is where I come,” she said simply,
her voice tinny with youth. She tilted her palm out to the scene
before them, as if the vista itself was not enough to clarify. Her
eyes, sparkling and filled with trust, looked toward him for his
reaction.

“
Thank you.” He meant it.

“
In good accord, Den Zen.”

He laughed. “Den Zen,” he repeated, “Well
then, you can be Lette Zette.”

“
Zette. I like it.” She laughed at their
new joke.

They peered out upon the expanse of Veronia.
It was lovely.

The memory released its hold on him, sinking
into Brenol’s mind like honey into warm tea.

She’s let go. She’s ok with Deniel in
me.

He sighed. Colette’s acceptance called for
his own, but still he felt that cold stone lodged in his chest. The
water flickered before his eyes accusingly. He sighed again, this
time in surrender.

He mustered up his courage and closed his
eyes, speaking out over the waters in a whisper, “I stole the key…
I hate myself for wanting to be a nurest forever… Wanting to
abandon Darse and Colette… Darse’s torture… I killed a man… Jerem
in the cave. I was so scared… I had to say goodbye to Darse… to
Arman… to Colette…”

And the pang loosened in his heart. Peace
came as delicately as the dawn. The solace he had experienced when
Colette spoke out over the waters was a mere shadow of the warmth
he felt now. His heart glowed and burned, alive and at rest. He was
more whole than he had thought possible. All seemed right
somehow—with the world, with himself, with what would come.

I will return. I will return when it’s
right.

He stooped, collected his worn shoes—well
dried and stiff—and trudged his muddy way up the stairway into the
house that was now his own.

Dearest readers,

Thank you for your time and readership. Please take
a moment and post a review!

The next book in the series is
Eyes in the
Water.
It will be released in the spring of 2016.

It has been a pleasure,

Monica Lee Kennedy

Alatrice-
Sim’s home world

Bethaida-
underground home of the Tindel

Cartess-
fate of a person

Cartontz-
protector of nurest

Benere-
goodwill, goodness, seeking
betterment for self and others

Digit-
unit of measurement the width of a
finger

Drale-
currency in Alatrice

Frawnish-
winged race in Granoile

Freg-
unit of currency

Genesifin-
book of fate

Gertali-
group that travels together in the
desert

Gortei-
oath of protection for Massada, the
person becomes a guardian

Greno-
unit of currency

Hete-
first summer

Hitze-
second summer

Juile-
race typically found in Selet

Lunavidola-
lights in Selet

Lunitata-
race, a people of light

Lugazzi-
neutral land between terrisdans and
surrounding Lake Ziel

Malitas-
evil spirit attacking Massada

Maralane-
people of Lake Ziel, lake men

Marking-
joining fingers, as sign of union
amongst Tindel

Matrole-
unit measuring distance

Nurest-
person w special connection to a
particular terrisdan

Orbit-
unit of time

Pedasse-
juile footprints

Perideta (peri)-
blue frozen desert

Polina-
law enforcement

Raptili-
reptiles in Alatrice

Sealtor-
mail deliverer

Sealtoz-
post office

Sefent-
markings of degeneration from the
perideta

Septspan-
7 days

Soumme-
spouse

Spherisol-
ball used for heating & light
by the Tindel

Stronta, Veri-
two moons of Massada

Tenralily-
flower with fabled pods of
healing

Terrisdan-
tract of land, 13 total

Teritra-
mosaic picture in public juile
houses

The Three-
Abriged (Eye), Tofinaol (Hand),
Ceriton (Voice)

Tindel-
people living in the ice desert

Umburquin-
race, typically found in
Selenia

Visnati-
race, typically found in
Garnoble

Wind's kiss-
weathering of the face from the
desert’s elements