The Threshold Child (55 page)

Kendan had not even gotten the chance to really talk to Adesina,
thanks to Basha’s interference. Instead, he had been forced to say the words
that were expected of him, rather than the ones in his heart.

He had seen the heartbreak in her eyes, and he knew she would
never forgive him for what he had done.

While all this was going through Kendan’s mind, Signe grew tired
of his silent musings. She moved away from him, gesturing impatiently. “Did you
at least discover their intended destination?”

He ducked his head in shame. “No, Sharifal.”

She sat at her makeshift desk, surveying him in contempt. “I am
surprised you found the courage to return to my presence in such disgrace.”

Kendan kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting her to see how
little he cared right now. He heard her irritated sigh and the shuffling of
parchment.

“I shall send a team to track them. In the meantime, our plan goes
forward as before.”

He nodded, even though his stomach clenched in anxiety.

The Sharifal turned her attention away from her nephew. “You are
dismissed.”

Kendan felt the weight of sorrow on his shoulders, but bowed
obediently. He then turned and walked out of the Sharifal’s tent.

Me’shan laid on his back on the cold stone floor of his cell,
gasping for breath. The new pains inflicted on him from the guards overrode all
of the old wounds that had never healed. Tears streamed out of the corners of
his eyes and he whispered L’avan prayers, searching for some source of relief.

When the sound of footsteps reached his ear, he could not find the
willpower to react. He closed his eyes and simply laid there, hoping that death
would come to him soon.

Looking through the slits of his eyes, he could see the door
opened and four guards entered the room, followed by a gray haired man who occasionally
questioned Me’shan. He glanced over at the huddled form of the L’avan and
nodded to one of his bodyguards. The man walked over and nudged Me’shan with
his foot.

Me’shan remained still, praying that they would leave him alone.

“The guards gave him a pretty severe beating, sir. He is probably
unconscious.”

“But is he alive?” he asked sharply.

Fingers were pressed to the pulse in Me’shan’s neck. “Yes, he is
alive.”

The gray haired man waved a hand carelessly. “Then leave him.”

The guard walked away and returned to his place at the man’s side.
He turned his icy gaze to Me’shan’s fellow prisoner.

“Well, what have you to say?”

Faryl cringed away from the man speaking to her. “Please, Breyen!
I did not betray the order, I just wanted a life of my own.”

Breyen drew his hand back and struck her with all of his strength.
“You would not have a life at all if it were not for me!”

She shook her head, staring at the ground. “That does not mean
that I belong to you.”

He crossed his arms. “What the Shimat give, the Shimat can take
away.”

Breyen nodded to his guards and two of them moved toward the
prisoner. One of them held her up while the other beat her again and again.

Me’shan shed a tear for every cry that sounded from her frail
throat. He wanted to get to his feet and fight them, but he had no strength
left.

The guards only stopped when Breyen held up a hand. They dropped
Faryl, and she stayed still, weeping brokenly.

“I want you to tell me everything. How you escaped, how you evaded
us for so long, who you talked to, what you learned. Everything.”

When Faryl didn’t respond, he leaned forward, lowering his voice
to a deadly whisper. “When an experiment fails, the Shimat cut their losses. I
can erase you with as much pleasure as I brought you into being.”

She still didn’t respond, and he straightened slowly. “I will give
you until tomorrow to think about it.”

With that, Breyen walked out of the cell, motioning for his
bodyguards to follow. The door slammed shut and echoed throughout the dungeon.
The light and footsteps faded away, leaving Me’shan to ponder what he had
heard.

Gathering all of his strength, he crawled over to where she lay
sobbing and placed a empathetic hand on her shoulder. “Do you know any songs?”

Her reflexes jerked away from his touch, but she calmed when she
remembered that she was not alone in her prison. “I thought you were
unconscious.”

He smiled to the darkness. “I thought it best to act as if I
were.”

Faryl’s voice trembled. “So, you heard everything.”

“Yes.”

“I am not one of them,” she insisted quietly. “I cannot help how I
was born.”

“Do you know any songs?” he asked again. “Happy ones.”

She paused in confusion at his question. “I used to.”

Me’shan reached over and took her hand. “Sing them. It will help
with the pain.”

He felt her shaking her head. “I do not think I could sing right
now.”

He nodded in understanding, but encouraged her anyway. “It does not
have to be loud or beautiful. You do not even have to vocalize the music.
Listen to it in your mind, and it will comfort you.”

Faryl sighed heavily. “I cannot hear it.”

Me’shan started humming quietly, and then turned the wordless tune
into a song he had learned as a child. He was exhausted and his voice was
hoarse, but he let the music flow out of his soul to comfort his companion.

Dawn

Like a long awaited breath of air

It fills me with life and light

Dawn

Like the warmth of a fire in winter

It revives my body and soul

Dawn

The hope of each child of earth

Dispelling the darkness from the world

Dawn

The beginning of a brand new day

It opens my path to all possibilities

She continued to cry quietly, but remarked, “You have a lovely
voice. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He replied distractedly. “My wife used to sing that song to our
son when he was young.”

Faryl moved into a sitting position. “How old is your son now?”

“Twenty-two.”

“You must miss him very much,” she said softly.

“Yes,” was the pained response, “I miss my son…and my daughter.”

“How old is your daughter?” asked Faryl, grateful for the
distraction from her present situation.

Me’shan had spent much time thinking about his daughter since
E’rian’s disappearance, and even more since his capture. The answer came
readily.

“She must be seventeen by now.”

Her voice became even more quiet. “What is her name?”

He fought back the tears that came with the knowledge that he
didn’t really know. He gave the name that E’rian had picked for her. “Ma’eve.”

Faryl could hear the love in his voice when he spoke her name. She
wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “You must love her very much.”

Me’shan nodded, but said nothing.

She continued without any encouragement. “Fathers should love
their daughters. That is how things were meant to be.”

He frowned at this statement, perplexed by the tone in which it
was spoken.

“That is how it should be,” she repeated. “Even if…”

The silence was filled with tension. Me’shan raised himself up on
one elbow. “Even if what?” he urged her gently.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Even if it was nothing but an
experiment.”

Understanding washed over his mind. “That man was your father?”

“If you think it right to attach such a title to that man,” she
said flatly.

Me’shan’s heart filled with pity when he thought of the kind of
childhood she had endured.

“I am so sorry, Faryl.”

She shook her head. “It does not matter anyway. I will not give
him the information he wants, and he will kill me for that.”

He stared into the darkness intently. “What information does he
want?”

“I doubt you would understand,” she said dismissively.

A smile touched his lips. “Try me.”

After a thoughtful pause, she shrugged. “Well, I suppose it does
not matter whether you know or not. He wants to know if I contacted the
L’avan.”

A chill ran down Me’shan’s spine. “What?”

Her voice was colored by an ironic smile. “I knew you would not
understand.”

“Did you contact them?”

She sighed. “I attempted to several times, but I was not
successful. Every time I came close, something happened to prevent me from
proceeding.”

He sat up slowly. “Perhaps I understand the situation better than
you imagine.”

“Oh?”

He hesitated, wondering if he was making the right decision.
“Faryl, I was not honest with you. My name is not Trayse, it is Me’shan.” he
paused again. “I am L’avan.”

Several moments of silence followed this declaration. Then, Faryl
began to laugh bitterly. “I should have guessed that they put a spy in this
cell with me.”

He shook his head. “I am not a spy.”

She did not believe him. “If you were a L’avan, you would not be
in
this
dungeon. You would be in the one on the level above us.”

Another shudder ran through Me’shan’s body. “There are others? You
know that for sure?”

The shock in his voice gave Faryl pause. “You must have known
that.”

A feeling of dread weighed down his chest. “We suspected it, but
it could never be confirmed.”

Truth rang in each of his words, and she found herself beginning to
believe him. “Prove it.”

He was startled by this abrupt command. “What?”

“Prove that you are a L’avan.”

Me’shan shook his head sadly. “I do not know if I have the
strength.”

Faryl folded her arms stubbornly. “Very well. I will just assume
that you are a spy.”

He debated on whether or not to even try. “If I prove it to you,
will you tell me everything you know about the captured L’avan?”

“Yes,” she agreed eagerly.

With a weary sigh, he got to his feet. “Stand up.”

She did so immediately, and with much more energy than what he
had.

Me’shan put his arms around her waist and said, “Hold on to my
shoulders.”

He reached down deep inside of himself, searching for his
vyala
. It had lain dormant for so long,
hidden from his captors, that it took some effort to rouse it.

It eventually flared to life, lighting his vision to details of
the black pit in which they were imprisoned. Everything took on a light blue
tint, and he felt Faryl start at the sight of his glowing eyes.

Me’shan focused on his own body, imagining that it was lighter
than air. His
vyala
responded to this
desire, and he felt himself being lifted off of the ground. He held tightly
onto Faryl, taking her into the air with him.

She gasped in amazement. “What is happening?”

They only hovered for a minute or so before Me’shan returned them
to the ground. Even so, he was exhausted by the effort.

“You really are a magic user,” she said in a voice mixed with awe
and fear.

He nodded to the darkness, laying back down on the icy cold stone.
“Yes.”

“I wish I could have seen how you did that. Perhaps then I could
learn-” she cut herself off abruptly.

Her companion didn’t seem to notice the change. He simply replied,
“Knowing the method does not do any good unless you are L’avan. Our gifts are
passed through the blood of our race.”

Faryl herself was debating on what to say. She finally settled
with, “I know.”

This time he caught the tone. “What are you talking about?”

She hugged her knees to herself, rocking slightly, back and forth.
“The Shimat have been conducting experiments on L’avan for many years, and they
know much about the science of your gifts. The main hindrance to their research
is that they
only
know the science, and that does not seem to be
enough.”

“What has your science taught you?” he asked cautiously.

She fixed her eyes on her clasped hands. “We know that it is an
hereditary trait, and that it is passed through the females.”

Me’shan frowned. “How do you know that?”

Faryl’s voice became subdued. “Because of what has been found with
the half-L’avan children.”

“What?” he demanded in shock.

“The children who were born of a L’avan mother had hints of the
gifts given to your race, but the children who had a L’avan father showed
nothing.”