“I can assure you, we do not have anything to do with the Soufis,” said Aaliyah.
“We shall see.” Lyrial spun on her heels. “But I am not a discourteous host. You shall eat and rest. Then we shall talk. Weila will see to your needs.” She made her way back to the statue and sat cross-legged beside it.
Weila opened the basket and pulled out two thin blankets, a loaf of bread, some dried fruit, and a bottle of wine. “You will have a few hours before she will speak with you. I suggest you rest until then. I will return a shortly before sunrise.” She turned to leave, then paused. “Don't worry about the cold. The Waters of Shajir will keep you warm enough.”
Once Weila was away, Gewey and Aaliyah laid out their blankets and ate their meal. The bread was plain and tough, but the fruit was sweeter than expected. The wine wasn't as good as what he’d had in the past, but it went down well enough.
“What should we do?” asked Gewey, leaning back on his elbows.
“What can we do?” Aaliyah lay down and closed her eyes. “If we run, we will either be killed or be forced to kill those who are not our enemy. We will rest while we can and speak to Lyrial. Hopefully we will be able to convince her that we have nothing to do with the Soufis.”
“I may be forced to tell them what I am, you know.”
Aaliyah opened her eyes and looked at Gewey. “That is for you to decide.”
Gewey lay down and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Aaliyah was right. What could they do?
Chapter 21
Weila woke Gewey and Aaliyah, and offered them both a cup of clear, sweet-smelling juice, which they gratefully accepted, though its fragrance did not prepare Gewey for the sour taste. His face twisted and he nearly spat it out.
Weila laughed. “It is from the fruit of the ganhi bush. It is sour, but very good for you.”
“Is Lyrial ready to see us?” asked Aaliyah.
Weila nodded, and pointed to the far end of the pool near the statue. “Go to her. I will wait here.”
“You're not coming?” asked Gewey.
“As I said, this is a matter for the Amal Molidova, not a Sand Master,” she explained. “Do not worry. We have spoken of Pali, and she does not hold you to blame any more than I.”
Gewey and Aaliyah finished their juice, then made their way around the pool to where Lyrial sat waiting. In front of her, two flat round cushions had been placed. She motioned for them to sit. She wore a pair of loose-fitting, cream, linen trousers, and a matching blouse. Her blond hair was in a tight braid that fell down her back and wound around her waist, ending up in her lap, and her bright green eyes twinkled in the blue light emanating from the water. Her face had the same timeless quality Gewey had come to know in elves, yet he knew she must be quite old.
Lyrial's eyes darted back and forth from Gewey to Aaliyah. “I do not think you are in league with the Soufis. So do not fear.”
“That is good,” said Aaliyah. “And know that we come in friendship.”
Lyrial raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? It is hard to imagine those who exiled my people so long ago have suddenly had a change of heart. No. I believe if you desire friendship, it is out of necessity. Whatever the troubles are in the west, I think you have brought them with you.”
“First, I would say that my people did not exile you,” said Aaliyah, her tone forceful and steady. “My people are from across what you know as the Western Abyss. But do not think that is a reflection on the other elves of this land. I do not believe they even remember you exist. Certainly, those living today had no part in your exile.”
Lyrial shook her head and let out a huff. “It would stand to reason that their arrogance and folly would shorten their memory.”
“Your kin do not seem to share your attitude,” said Aaliyah. “Those we spoke to seem pleased that the elves of the west would come.”
“It is for them to live and die, free in the sands,” she shot back. “It is for me to protect that freedom. Their hearts are not as burdened as mine.” She shrugged. “They do not read the ancient lore.” She paused and sighed. “Still, I am not unwilling to welcome them, if they truly wish it. And stories of the elves from across the Abyss have been told long before we came here. If your people have returned, then perhaps it is you who have brought war.”
“I can only tell you we have not,” she retorted. “We have been unable to return until now.”
Lyrial sighed. “Very well, then. Tell me your tale.”
Aaliyah told her story, beginning with their arrival and ending when they left for the desert, leaving out Gewey's identity as a God. “I know that Weila told you why we came, and that we had intended to leave your desert in peace.”
“She told me what you allowed her to know,” Lyrial replied. “But you have not revealed all. What is it you fear me to learn, I wonder?”
Aaliyah stiffened. “I have told you all that you need to understand that we are guiltless regarding the Soufis. Anything else is our affair.”
Lyrial placed her finger to her chin and met Aaliyah’s gaze. “Is that so? You may not have caused the Soufis to gather, but I wager that whatever it is you fight, did. They are wretched slavers that plague the sands. And though cunning and fierce, they would never gather in such great numbers on their own. They raid and flee.”
“I will say nothing more on the matter,” said Aaliyah.
Lyrial and Aaliyah stared into each other’s eyes, unblinkingly.
“What she hasn't revealed is me,” Gewey interjected. “I am what she will not tell you.”
Aaliyah stiffened then folded her hands.
Lyrial threw her head back in laughter. “You? And what could she reveal about you?”
“We came here to retrieve what was guarded within the Black Oasis,” he said. “They were gifts, left for me by my father…Gerath.”
Lyrial burst out laughing again. “You think a half-man is something new to us? You think us ignorant fools?”
“I am not a half-man,” Gewey asserted. “And it was not Aaliyah that burned the Soufis. I did it.”
“I see.” Lyrial stood. “So you claim to be a God, and not a half-man? That would be something indeed…if it were true. Of course, such an outrageous claim can be settled easily enough.” She held out her hand. Gewey took it and she led him to the edge of the Waters of Shajir. “Do not move.” In a flash she drew a dagger from her sleeve and cut the back of Gewey's hand.
Gewey winced as blood trickled into the shimmering liquid. The second it touched the surface of the water, the ground began to rumble. Beneath the waters, a billowing red cloud boiled up violently, rapidly covering the entire pool. Suddenly, a thunderous boom knocked them off their feet, as fire erupted from the urn atop the great statue, shooting hundreds of feet into the air. The fire spread out, then fell, raining down flames that disappeared in a blinding flash, just a few feet above the ground.
Slowly, the earth stopped shaking and the blood red water transformed back into its original blue color. Lyrial sat, eyes wide and mouth agape. Gewey got up and offered her his hand. She looked at him in awe, then after a long moment, allowed him to help her to her feet. He held her hand as he walked her back and sat down. Lyrial looked stunned, unable to speak.
Just then Weila ran over. “What happened?”
Lyrial motioned for her to sit. “It seems that this concerns all elves, Weila. You should stay.” She lean forward and stared into Gewey’s eyes. “How is this possible? Can the end times be here at last?”
“I don't know anything about that,” said Gewey. “But if you will let me, I'll tell you my story as well.”
Lyrial nodded. “Of course. Yes, please.”
Gewey recounted the events of his life, beginning with the death of his father. Several times he had to stop and back track, as he remembered details. Lyrial and Weila took a special interest when he told of his bonding with Kaylia, asking him three times to repeat it.