The Last of the Wilds

in here if I can’t empty those buckets.”

He glanced toward his own waste bucket and grimaced apologetically. “I hate to change an unpleasant subject to another, but I’m afraid I used mine while you were out.”

She shrugged. Walking to the bucket, she picked it up. “I’ll take care of it now - and see if I can find a more interesting breakfast.”

“Thank you,” he offered, then added a little sheepishly, “We need some fresh water, too.”

She sighed, picked up the water bucket, and walked quickly out of the cave. Her footsteps echoed in the tunnel, but the sound was soon overwhelmed by the crashing of the waterfall. At the end of the tunnel she paused to stare at the falling water.

He might as well sire a child, then murder it.

Leiard’s reaction had shaken her and his words had sent chills down her spine. He clearly understood what his fate would probably be - and he did not like it. He was going to fight for his existence.

This isn’t good, she thought. It can’t be healthy to have two people struggling for control of the same body.

No matter how cruel it seemed, Leiard was an invention. Mirar was the real person. They could not both continue to exist.

She sighed and moved outside the cave. The rain had stopped and the sun emerged from the cloud, reflected in water droplets everywhere. She paused to admire the effect. It was pretty. Romantic, even. She thought of Leiard’s references to Auraya. It was interesting that an invention of Mirar’s could feel romantic love. Surely that meant he was capable of it himself.

If that was so, then everything Leiard was, Mirar could be too. Mirar might not like those aspects of himself, but Leiard was evidence of them.

This isn’t a battle between Leiard and Mirar, she thought suddenly. It’s Mirar fighting what he doesn’t like or accept about himself.

In that case, she thought, he needs to—

A fleeting emotion from an unfamiliar mind touched her senses. She froze, then made herself relax and search her surroundings. Somewhere to the left a male was watching her. From his emotions of concern and worry she gathered that he was alarmed by her presence here in Si. Was he alone?

Heart racing, she searched her surroundings and found another mind. Two minds - no, three. Four!

So much for my brilliant hiding place, she thought. If we are discovered so easily... But who else would have ventured so far into Si?

The Siyee, of course.

She felt alarm ease a little. There was always a chance that the gods were watching her through the Siyee, but the odds were small. She sensed curiosity as well as caution, and guessed finding her here had been a surprise to them.

They were, however, more fearful than she would have expected. Why they feared a lone landwalker woman, she couldn’t guess. Perhaps they were worried that she wasn’t alone.

Well, I had better make an attempt to meet them. If I don’t they are likely to bring back others, whereas if I convince them I’m friendly and don’t intend to stay long they might leave me alone.

She set the bucket down, then walked slowly along the water’s edge, pretending to be looking for food. When she was close enough to the Siyee to be heard over the falling water she straightened and glanced deliberately in the direction of each of the four strangers.

“Greetings, people of the sky,” she called, hoping their language hadn’t changed too much.

There was a long, anxious pause during which one of the watchers - a male - considered what to do. As she sensed him become decisive she turned to face him and saw movement in the trees.

A gray-haired Siyee stepped into view. He stopped and uttered a series of sounds and whistles. Emerahl understood enough to know he was introducing himself.

“Greetings, Veece, Speaker of the North River tribe,” she replied. “I am Jade Dancer.”

“Greetings, Jade Dancer. Why are you here, in Si?”

She considered her answer carefully. “When I heard war was coming, I came here to wait until it is over.”

“Then I bring good news,” he told her. “The war was brief. It ended nearly two moon cycles ago.”

She pretended to be delighted. “That is good news!” Then she added hastily: “Not that I don’t like Si, but it is a bit... ah... hard on a landwalker.”

He moved a few steps closer and she sensed a lingering suspicion. “The forest is dangerous and the journey here difficult for those without wings. How have you lived here? How is it you know our language?”

She shrugged. “I have lived many years on the edge of your lands,” she told him. “I have knowledge and Gifts - and I once helped an injured Siyee, who taught me your language. I work as a healer, when I am among my people.”

“You are not a priestess?”

“Me?” she asked, surprised. “No.”

“I thought all Gifted landwalkers became priests or priestesses.”

“No. Some of us don’t want to.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

He’s a nosy one, she mused. “I don’t want to tell others what to do, and I don’t want them to tell me what to do.”

For the first time, he smiled. “Forgive my questions. There are two reasons for them. We feared that you were a Pentadrian sorceress - a woman who once attacked our people. We are soon to have our own priests and priestesses so I was curious to know why someone might not want to be one.”

The Siyee are to have their own priests and priestesses? The news saddened her. They had been free from Circlian influence for so long. I suppose they need the protection now that there is the Pentadrian threat.

She considered the old man. He was no longer radiating anxiety, though his curiosity was still tempered by caution. She felt certain he and his companions meant her no harm. They believed she was alone and that was how it must stay. She was not going to take any risks by introducing Mirar.

No, best she convince these people she was alone and harmless.

She crouched and washed her hands in the cold, swiftly running water.

“There’s a basket-fruit tree just down the river from here,” she said. “Would you stay and eat with me? I haven’t had company for a long time.”

He glanced toward his companions, then nodded. “Yes. We will. We cannot stay long, as we are already late in returning to our tribe, but we have time enough to talk and eat.”

He whistled loudly. From among the trees stepped the other three Siyee: a middle-aged woman and two youths. They stared at Emerahl nervously as they approached. Veece introduced them. She smiled at them all, then rose and beckoned.

“Follow me. I don’t know about you, but I always talk better when I’m not hungry.”

And she led them down the river, and away from Mirar.

The sky was a roiling blanket of low black clouds. Lightning dazzled her eyes. There was no thunder, just silence.

There was no storm the night after the battle, Auraya thought as she stepped over bodies. Well, there were no talking corpses either.

She endeavored to avoid looking at the faces of the dead, having learned that this triggered them into movement. Not looking down made navigation of the battlefield difficult, however. The darkness between the flashes of lightning was absolute. The moment came when her foot caught on a corpse, and she found herself looking down.

Bloodshot eyes stared up at her. Lips moved.

“You killed me,” the dead man wheezed.

I used to wake up at this point, she thought. No more,