Indiscernible shadows shifted through the dark, rustling through the grass. Uthalion strode slowly toward his companion, drawing his blade and staring daggers into Brindani’s back as he listened for the unseen predators. The unmistakable sound of tiny claws scratching on stone seemed to surround them, punctuated by the clacking of tiny teeth and more of the little growls.
“That thing we faced in the Spur..’. the kaia,” he said, still trying to get Brindani’s attention away from the dirt. “It eats its own young or runs them from the forest, or so Vaasurri tells me.”
The half-elfs shoulders shook, and his head nodded lazily, but he did not rise or notice the squirming bits of blackness at the edge of the fire’s growing light. Tiny teeth gleamed among the tall blades of grass, little mouths emitting the clicks and growls as the beasts circled and prepared to advance on the unsuspecting Brindani.
“They start out small, he says,” Uthalion said as he turned his sword in a slow circle. “But they’re never pretty.”
Slippery tendrils of darkness separated them from the gloom, crawling and hungrily whining for flesh. For half a breath Uthalion considered letting them have Brindani as their easy meal. Cursing, he charged at the first beast entering the light.
Ghaelya gradually eased into the hushed quiet of the Akana, lying back uneasily under a moonlit sky full of stars.
She anchored her attention upon their faint light, still not comfortable with the dark of the open land. Cursing all the expanse of the Akana within her field of vision, she knew if lack of sleep did not kill her, then the awful quiet surely would. Thin clouds drifted across the moon like veils of silk, drawing smoky shadows over the land. The grasses rippled and undulated in soft breezes, a deep green tide that stirred Ghaelya’s watery soul and made her long for the flashing waves of the Sea of Fallen Stars.
Vaasurri sat on silent watch like a little tree, his coarse, grasslike brown hair whispering in the wind. He had spared her his questions since Uthalion and Brindani had left, leaving her to rest and make an attempt at sleep for which she had no desire. Restless nerves caused her arms and legs to twitch in frustration; she knew she should be on her way, racing across the wild lands to find Tessaeril. She crossed her legs, and folded her arms tight across her belly.
Though she was no stranger to falling asleep on hard ground, it had usually been her bedroom floor after a long night of drinking and not after several days of running. No howling dreamers or singing Choir came to rouse her from her rest and send her running into dark places to hide. There were no calls of the city watch or bawdy songs sung in seedy taverns, no screaming mother or disapproving father to let her know that all was normal. And above all, no Tessaeril to find her and bring her home when she’d strayed too far or had too much to drink, to wince at the sight of a new bruise or cut earned while being foolish.
Am I foolish? she thought. Am I out here for no reason other than my own guilt? A fool’s errand to ease my mind?
As the sky slowly turned before her weary eyes, stars exploded into fragments amid the facets of distant crystals. Night flowers bloomed, unfurling long stems to rise above the grass. It was an alien place to her, as most places were when she ran from the things she should have done. She’d lived so long in the shadows of life, the dark places between responsibility and obligation, that she hadn’t known true darkness until running away was all she had. She closed her eyes tightly, holding herself still and tried to pretend that in time sleep would come quickly and easily.
“You should get some rest,” Vaasurri said, causing her to exhale a held breath and smile despite herself.
“How do you know I wasn’t already asleep?” she asked. “Perhaps you woke me up.”
Vaasurri shifted in the moonlight, his fey eyes studying her closely as he leaned forward.
“Most people don’t act tough when they’re really asleep,” he answered. “Also, your breathing is too fast, your pulse too strong, and unless you intend to engage your dreams in mortal combat, that grip on your sword was a giveaway as well.”
She released the tension in her hand in surprise, unaware she had been prepared to draw the blade. Sighing, she relaxed somewhat and shook her head.
“I used to have no problem at all falling asleep. No matter what trouble I’d get myself into, I knew it would all go away by the next day or the day after that,” she said, picturing her soft bed at home with a twinge of guilt. “Out here though…”
“We don’t call it trouble,” Vaasurri replied, sitting up and returning to his watch. “Trouble is temporary. This is survival, and it is constant, one moment to the next, from rest to hunting to being hunted… The blood and the bloom.”
She turned to him at the last, wondering where she’d heard the familiar expression before and fearing the answer. Though it slipped away from her wakeful mind, she somehow knew her answer would be forthcoming if sleep did indeed find her. She rose on one elbow to face the killoren.
“How did you meet Uthalion?” she asked.
“Actually, he saved my life.” He turned and smiled. “By trying to kill me,” he added.
“Ah, that’s reassuring,” she said, eager to hear the rest of the story. But the sound of distant howls, weak and echoing through the broken land, reached her ears like the first rumbles of thunder in a coming storm. Vaasurri turned to face the sound as Ghaelya swiftly rose to a crouch, her sword drawn.
“But that,” she said, “is not.”
Two of the infant kaia charged into the firelight, squealing and snapping their jaws, their whiplike tails propelling them forward behind clawed little arms. Uthalion’s blade intercepted the first, splashing its ochre blood into the grass and splitting its wriggling body in two. Others, smaller than their dead sibling, pounced on the twitching body and dragged it back into the dark, growling and fighting over its flesh. The second kaia made straight for the kneeling half-elf even as more of the beasts crawled from their hiding places to surround the pair.
Wide jaws revealed gleaming teeth dripping with spittle as Brindani finally looked up and saw the beast advancing on him. Uthalion could not see the surprise in the half-elfs eyes, but dearly wished he could have witnessed that one brief moment of clarity. He hurled his dagger, sending it end over end to sink into the little kaia’s body. It squealed, a keening that was a blessing compared to the thunderous voice of the adult beast.
The creature flopped away, bleeding yellow fluid from around the knife embedded in its stumpy neck. Its siblings saw their opportunity and charged in at the half-elf who’d managed to rise on one knee and draw his sword. Uthalion rushed in, cursing the bleary look in Brindani’s eyes and split the tail of one kaia before skewering another, throwing it from the end of his blade to smash upon the stone wall.
Backing closer to the firelight, Uthalion tried to form an estimate of how many kaia had surrounded them and found himself losing count by the heartbeat. Brindani had collected himself and sidestepped the charge of another beast, cleaving its skull and kicking his blade free as he nimbly joined the human. Uthalion could only stare in surprise at the half-elfs sudden recovery.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Brindani asked, lucid and seemingly fine as he placed his back to Uthalion’s so they could view all points of attack. “I barely had time to draw my sword.”
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Uthalion answered dryly, stabbing another kaia and shoving its little body back to the others. He added, “I thought you were worm-food for a moment there.”
Brindani laughed as he slashed at the beasts. The sound of his unexpected mirth was almost frightening, bordering on madness, and Uthalion did not like the idea of Brindani’s sword swinging so nearby.
“No, Uthalion,” the half-elf said at length. “Al! things in their own good time.”