The Age of Light (The Ava'Lonan Herstories Book 1) (24 page)

The folds of the
desi
fell away like the petals of a blooming flower, revealing its heart. He looked
over his charge; his hands reflexively reached out to straighten her limbs and
arrange her in a more comfortable position. She looked so peaceful as she
slept, so innocent, so content - and yet the picture of serenity was shattered
as he remembered her actions, her words. That what they shared was forbidden,
and would damn them both, that they would be cast into darkness, never to
become one with the Supreme One. The words troubled him, even though he knew
that the exact opposite was true, that they were Goddess-blessed and that it
was right. Jeliya did not know this, and as long as she did not, she would hold
to her beliefs. And she would continue to avoid his touch and believe him a
tainted thing, a necessary evil in her life at present.

Wearily he folded his arms and lay his head among
them, feeling emotionally overwrought and careworn. What was he to do? He had
never truly admitted his feelings before, had never faced them, had never given
them voice, and for good reason. But now, here they were, laid bare like an
open wound, and he could but stare at them in dismay. And how could she feel
the same? She already cringed from him, though she tried to hide the fact. Why,
he did not even know. Was his touch so unpleasant, or his appearance so
repugnant to her? Apparently so. Her great grandmother had called him
beautiful, but what of the great granddaughter? It was possible that she did
not see him that way and he had been a fool to assume that she would. And now
this.

Despair danced on the edge of his mind with sharp
cloven hooves to a delirious beat. Surely she did not share the feelings he had
for her. Not when she endured his touch with barely concealed distaste. But if
she were to remember the events that took place, she would truly hate him, she
would despise him and shun his very presence. If he were wrong, and the being
that called itself Ya’kano was wrong, he would lose her forever.

As if you ever had her
, he thought dismally,
his face clouding over.
If she found you repulsive from the first, why, then
she was never yours. You’d be twice the fool to believe that she would be as
her foremother had been, that she would have feelings for you. That she would
love you. Why would she? Why should she?
Especially if she knew the story
of her foremother, the real story, or as much of it as would lead her to
him.

Again you have brought darkness to my Tribe...
oh, she knew.
She knew, but how much? Had she guessed?

The memory of their blazing souls almost touching,
of her welcoming smile, of her reaction afterward flared as if in answer.

Again you have brought darkness...
and what of the
darkness he had seen in himself, then and now? Was she right after all? What
was that darkness in himself that had drawn him back, kept him from becoming
lost, from melding completely and inseparably with her? What of the being
Ya’kano
calling him half-son or half-one? Was he truly of darkness, or at least partly,
and had he cast it on those whom he had loved? He did not know. The answer was
lost in the dim recesses of his past, in the hidden memories of the time
before...

The
time before he found himself, cold and wracked with pain, beside a glowing wall
of force, no feeling in his legs and the lower part of him feeling strange,
heavy and unnatural, with gloom and unfamiliar stimuli battering his spinning
senses...

Could he have been in darkness? In it and of it?

What of the words of Ya’kano?
Something
within him asked, that stubborn little part of him that hoped even through
hopelessness, even in the face of her rejection.

What of them?
he thought back, a hardness in his
chest making his lungs ache. He had no proof that this being was who She
claimed to be, a Deity; nothing with which to establish Her credibility, no
reference with which to justify Her words as true. Yes, She had power; but were
there not others of power, evil ones, not-quite-Deities?
Lor’Joumbi
?
Lu’mari
would be afraid of something benign and far more powerful than they were, but the
same could be said for something more powerful and more malevolent.

A faint rumbling in his lower stomach reminded him
that he had not eaten, and that Jeliya, whether she remembered or not, would be
hungry when she awoke. He got to his feet, his heart heavy. He leaned forward
and covered her, wished that he could feel as peaceful as she looked.

And
that I could taste her again...

But when she would awaken and in what state of mind,
he had no way of knowing. Only time would tell.

turning
light, turning...

Jeliya woke slowly, struggling out of dark,
distressing dreams that she could not quite remember. She felt greatly
rejuvenated, though still weak. Most of the aches in her body had dulled to
mere irritants, the pain behind her eyes, however, persisting.

She vaguely remembered being cold, gave an
experimental shiver. Had she been in
lor’den
? All seemed
well. The two orders of the Rite of
Solu
must have
worked. She felt fine. Her stomach growled slightly to the contrary at her.

“Hello?” she called softly, wondering how far away
her benefactor was. She considered calling him by name, but the name strangely
did not seem to fit him anymore - as if it belonged to a younger, more innocent
him. One that had long since melted away.

“You are awake,” the silver voice said almost
immediately, a funny green tilt to it.

“Yes.” She shivered again, this time at the strange
tone. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“Yes, I was. Are you hungry?”

“Very.” She sat up carefully, realized that the
smell of food was already all around her. Her stomach growled again,
embarrassingly loud.

His weight settled on the pallet. His hand touched
hers, and she raised them to receive the calabash bowl, strangely drawn and
just as strangely newly repelled by the contact. Teasingly vague hints of
memory touched the edges of her mind, but would not come clear. She dismissed
them as she heard the spoon dip and then touch her lips. She opened her mouth
obligingly. It was rich soup with fish and tanya tubers and yellow onion and
carrots and flavorful seasonings.

“Mmm,” she murmured, with relish. She craned her
head forward eagerly for more. He gave a chuckle and fed her willingly.

“What time of the turn is it?” she asked, listening
to the spoon dip and rise again. Her arms were getting tired. The bowl dipped.
His hand cupped the edge, supporting it.

“It is eve-time. Av is just setting,” he replied.

She ate in silence for a time, sating her hunger,
and considering.

“How are my eyes?”

He did not miss a beat as he answered. “They are
much improved. Their progress is a little slower than I would like, but they
are coming along fine.”

“And how much light can they stand?”

The spoon paused. “Some, I suppose; not too much,
and not for too long a time.” It resumed its journey to her mouth.

When the spoon touched her lips again she captured
it in her mouth, hesitantly touched the hand that held it. A spark of tingling
passed through her at the contact with his skin, a tiny flush of pleasure that
made her catch her breath. She did not pull away, however, as the wash of his
senses passed over her, but followed the arm up to the shoulder and again
reached toward his face. She felt him hesitate, then the spoon left her mouth
and the bowl lifted from her hand and she felt him move forward. His hand
cupped hers gently and pressed it to his face. She marveled at his warmth,
wondered that she could reach for him with such ease now, that the revulsion at
sharing his senses had lessened so much. She would have been alarmed if she had
not been so involved in his touch. His cheek was rough with stubble still, and
it was wonderfully male, the taste of
dija
berries coming
through her fingertips. His presence drew her irresistibly. She smiled in spite
of herself, stroking his cheek, felt an answering smile curve his mouth. Her
other hand reached for the blind over her eyes.

“NO!” He pulled away, clattered to his feet with the
sound of metal striking stone.

“But why?” she asked, in the act of reaching after
him before catching herself. “I need to start using my eyes again sometime.”

“Do not remove the blind fold,” his voice said with
harsh silver warning, but it was tainted blue with fear.

“Why ever not? You just said that
Av
had set - it should be safe. Is the candle light so bright? Or is it that you
do not wish to be seen?”

His hoof steps clashed against the floor as if he
were curvetting, and his fear of her seeing him crashed over her like a wave of
sick water. She shuddered inwardly as it melted into her and gave way to a fear
of something else that she could not read or place, but which seemed to become
larger by the gran.

“Why do you wish so very much not to be seen?” she
asked, puzzled.

His hoof steps clopped with no cadence, as if he
were half-prancing in agitation, and his surprise rang in her mind. “I - don’t
know what you mean,” he said, more than his voice betraying him. He stopped
dancing. “Your eyes...”

“Are not the source of your fear,” she cut in, her
voice a bit more harsh than she meant it to be. She softened her tone. “You do
not wish to be seen. I know this. Why?”

“How do you know this? And why do you wish so very
much to see me?” he retorted, his voice sour green, but beneath it a note of
self-loathing.

Jeliya was more perplexed than ever. “Why - because
you are a beautiful creature, Gavaron.” Her voice took on a hushed, awed tone
as she remembered the glimpse of him in the rainforest. The vision of him
flowed slowly across her eyelids. As a
wuman
the pale skin
might not have been that appealing, but as the
Katari
-like
creature it was exotic, and it had been browned to a reasonable tone by the
light of
Av
.
“Of course I wish to see you again, for more than a fleeting moment.”

Her words seemed to stun him. He stayed still for so
long without thought or movement, and the connection rang with such emptiness,
that he seemed, for a moment, not there at all. Then a tsunami of disbelief
nearly overwhelmed her. Unable to deal with its bitterness, she let the matter
drop and turned to another, more pressing subject.

“Kind one, we must talk about why I sought you out
in the first place,” she said, dropping unconsciously into her court voice,
firm, passionless, with just a hint of command.

A surge of apprehension hit her from him. She
gritted her teeth and stood firm.

“Why did you seek me out?”

“I came seeking information.”

“About?” His voice was harsh and he did not resume
his seat.

“About the
Zehj’Ba
- and the
Av’ru
.”

“What would I know about such things?”

Jeliya did a mental sidestep, hesitating,
calculating. Had she truly erred? Her mind raced. No. He knew something. She
could feel it. But how to pry it out of him? What had she to use as leverage?

“Surely you know how the
Av’ru
came to be and about the
Zehj’Ba
which even
now seeks to destroy it?”

There was the slightest of hesitations. “No. No, I
know nothing of these.”

He’s lying,
she thought. “You do not know the
Av’ru
?!”
she asked incredulously.

“I have seen it; I know of its existence,” he
admitted grudgingly, “but I know nothing of its
herstory
or this ‘drain’ that you speak of. Therefore I see no point to your seeking me
out to question me about them.” His voice was acerbic and his presence cold,
but the fear was his weakness. She pressed on, hoping to make him slip into
admitting something by which she could bind him, and at the same time, hating
herself for having to do so.

“You do not lie very well, Gavaron.” Her voice
dripped scorn. “I happen to know for a fact that you are closely tied to the
Zehj’Ba
,
if you are not the actual source. You were too deeply involved in the events
surrounding the
Zehj’Ba
for otherwise to be true.”

He scoffed. “Just what is it you think you know
about me, little girl, and what does it prove if you do?” His words cut. He
knew she had nothing to bargain with.

“I know that hundreds of cycles ago something passed
through the Av’ru from the
Lora’Lons
, and not
long after the
Zehj’Ba
began.”

“And this has what to do with me?”