The Silent Tempest (Book 2) (36 page)

Ryan moved forward to meet their charge.

Invisible and therefore blind, Braden
chose that moment, by pure chance, to reveal himself and attack. He appeared
some thirty yards distant and hastily leveled a sword enhanced attack at Emma’s
position.

The lance of power ripped through the
shield protecting Tyrion’s daughter, but it missed the girl herself.
Unfortunately, the destruction of the shield had far worse consequences on the
one who had created it. The feedback drove Ryan to his knees, and his power
faltered. The spellbeasts reached him just as he lost consciousness, his
enchanted body shield winking out.

Emma’s return stroke killed Braden
instantly.

Tyrion’s children had won. The lights
changed, and a chime rang out. The match was over.

But the spellbeasts didn’t know or care
about such facts. The first one to reach Ryan clamped down on the youth’s
shoulder, crushing his collarbone, while the second took one of his legs in its
terrible jaws.

Emma struggled to stand, but she no longer
had the strength. Her mouth was stretched wide in a feeble scream as she tried
to reach her brother, but her wound made yelling impossible.

Koralltis stepped onto the field, moving
placidly toward the spellbeasts as they engaged in a grotesque tug of war with
Ryan’s body. He would destroy them as a matter of course, but the She’Har
never hurried. The boy didn’t have the luxury of such a delay.

Tyrion leapt forward, but the spellwoven
shield that protected the arena would not admit him. Only Koralltis could
enter until the match was called, and he had given permission. Activating his
enchanted arm blades, Tyrion cut at the spellweaving, but it was far too
powerful for one man, even him, to destroy.

Lightning flashed, slamming down from the
sky to strike the mighty shield around the arena. Once, twice, then a third
time in a matter of seconds. The arena’s protection shattered with a sound
that rang out so loudly it seemed as though the world itself had broken.
Running forward, Tyrion raced past Koralltis.

He didn’t dare use his power to fling the
beasts away, for fear of tearing Ryan in two, and agonizing seconds ticked past
while the monsters savaged the boy, until at last he reached them. Tyrion’s
enchanted arm blades ripped the beasts apart, heads from shoulders, and then he
cut into the bodies as well, trying to make certain he cut the central point
that animated them.

Koralltis began spellweaving, sending long
tendrils of vine-like aythar to wrap around Ryan’s still form.

“Is he alive?!” Tyrion was shouting at
the arena master, unable to help himself. If it weren’t for the nature of his
task, he might have killed the uncaring She’Har on the spot.

“Barely,” said the arena master calmly.

Tyrion lost it then. Taking the She’Har
by the throat, he shook him like a doll. “If he does not survive, you will be
next!”

Koralltis studied him with wide eyes.
Somewhere within the She’Har’s cold demeanor lay a flicker of fear. “Let me
attend to the girl. Her wound is yet mortal. She needs help.”

In a rage, Tyrion lifted the She’Har and
flung him bodily in Emma’s direction.

Standing alone now, he raised his eyes to
the crowded balconies in the god-trees surrounding the arena. The crowd was
silent even as the sky grew darker. The voice of the wind was screaming in his
ears, and Tyrion raised his own voice to join it, “Is this what you want? Are
you happy now? When will you have enough of my blood? When will you be
satisfied?” His words boomed out, louder than the wind which was beginning to
move with frightful speed.

The sky above was twisting, rotating as if
on some invisible axis above his head. The world had grown almost as dark as
night, and the force of the gale was causing the trees to groan under its
pressure.

Tyrion’s mind was fading, disintegrating
into the uncaring wrath of the wind. He stared senselessly outward, but his
eyes were not working. He was elsewhere, and his body was growing lighter.

Kate had run out screaming at him, but his
ears didn’t report her words and the wind tossed her back. She flew through
the air to strike one of the holding cells. Despite the wind, she struggled to
rise, but one of her legs refused to support her weight.

Somewhere, deep within, only one thought
remained to him.
This is the end.
He would destroy it all, or as much
as he could reach at least, and his reach had grown very long indeed.
I will
scour the world clean.

Pale hands caught his head, one on either
side, and blue eyes stared into his. Lyralliantha had him now, her silver hair
whipping around the two of them. A spellweaving held her firm against the
rushing air, while her mind sought his.

Stop! Peace, my Love, your
children are safe. Let go of your anger or we are all doomed.
Her thoughts echoed through his mind as if they had passed through
a vast cave.

The wind faltered, and his eyes snapped to
hers. Slowly his rage began to subside, and he became aware of his own labored
breathing. She repeated her thoughts, more softly now, and his mind registered
their meaning with some difficulty.

“Love?” he mumbled with lips that felt
strange. “You don’t understand the word.”

“Yes,” she replied, “I do now. You are my
kianthi, and the Illeniel have found love again.”

Kate limped as she walked from the hearth
to the cutting board laid out on the counter. With each step Tyrion felt
guiltier.

“Why don’t you let the others take care of
that for a few days?” he suggested.

Abby was already helping Kate in the
kitchen, but she ignored his comment. She knew Kate wouldn’t be receptive to
his idea.

“I need to do something, Daniel,” said
Kate. “I’ll go crazy if you try to make me sit down all day.”

Abby nodded in agreement and gave Tyrion a
look that clearly meant he should leave well enough alone.

“The bruising should get better in a few
days,” said Tyrion for what might have been the tenth time.

Kate pursed her lips as she began chopping
onions, “You mentioned that already.”

Brigid came through the front door and
poked her head into the kitchen from the entry hall, “She’s here, Father.”

Kate nearly cut her finger. Dropping the
knife, she started to smooth her hair but then realized her hands smelled like
onions. “It’s too early! You said she wouldn’t be here until noon,” she said
to him in an accusatory tone.

“Relax,” he said, trying to soothe her.
“She’s not worried about things like that. You saw what I looked like when I
returned home the first time.”

“Easy enough for you to say,” said Kate
waspishly.

“She’s already met you twice now,” he
reminded.

Kate’s expression made it plain how dumb
she thought that remark was. “And both times were after you tried to destroy
everything in sight with a monster storm. I’d like to meet her once without
looking as though a family of rats was nesting in my hair.”

“Your hair is beautiful.”

“No,
she
is beautiful. Let me be,
it’s none of your business,” said Kate.

“She healed your leg…”

“Again—not helping, Daniel,” she replied
sourly. “Go distract her while I wash my hands and fix my hair. Abby can you
take over here?”

Abby smiled, “I’ll be glad to. Brigid
would you like to help me?”

Brigid cast a dark glance in Abby’s
direction. Cooking was her least favorite activity, and it wasn’t her day to
help, but if Kate was abandoning the kitchen, someone would have to step up.
She nodded silently.

With his magesight, Tyrion could see
Lyralliantha in the front yard, but she was making no move toward the house.
Instead, she was talking to the young men and women there, moving from one to
another.
What is she doing?

Then he saw. She was removing their
collars. He made his way to the door and walked out to confront her, “What are
you doing?”

“Good morning, Love,” she said with a
faint smile. With a touch, she dissolved the collar around David’s throat.

Her use of the word ‘love’ caught him
off-guard once more. It was impossible to imagine her, or any other She’Har
for that matter, using it in such a familiar manner. “What’s going on?” he
asked.

“I am rectifying a mistake,” she replied.
Walking past him, she paused to kiss him on the cheek before removing Violet’s
collar next.

“Shouldn’t we talk about it? Your people
will not accept this.”

“They already have,” said Lyralliantha.
“Well, the Illeniel and Prathion Groves have, but I am confident the others
will be made to see the truth.”

He blinked. The words were simple enough,
but the meaning was hard to accept.

Lyralliantha had finished with everyone in
the yard, so she started toward the house.

“Wait,” he told her.

“There are still a few more.”

Tyrion shook his head, “They can wait a
few minutes; Kate isn’t ready yet.”

Her forehead wrinkled with a faint frown,
“You already removed her collar.”

“No, she isn’t ready to meet you yet,” he
explained.

“We met yesterday,” she reminded him.
“After you broke her leg.”

He sighed in frustration, “That wasn’t
really me. Well, I suppose it was, but I wasn’t in my right mind. It was an
accident. Anyway, that’s not the point. She wants to brush her hair, or
something like that.”

“Why?” asked the She’Har with a serious
countenance.

“She wants to look good, to make a good
impression.”

Lyralliantha’s face shifted to a look of
disappointment, “I thought learning love would make your kind easier to
understand.”

“We’re somewhat more complicated than just
that one emotion,” he told her before adding, “She’s nervous, she wants you to
like her.”

“Why?”

Tyrion took a deep breath, “Because she’s
in love with me.”

Lyralliantha’s face became pensive.
Eventually she responded, “Does she fear me?”

“Not exactly,” he replied, “but for a
human it’s a normal worry. She’s afraid you might be jealous.”

“Jealousy is not common among my people,”
said Lyralliantha.

“You are the first to be in love in a long
time,” he noted.

“Should jealousy be part of love?”

“No, I don’t think so. Humans feel it
when we think something we care about is being threatened.”

“I would not threaten you,” she declared.
“Unless you were acting in a foolish way,” she corrected herself a moment
later.

He led her to the log benches that were
arrayed around their evening bonfire spot. Offering a seat, he tried to
explain, “Not a threat to me, a threat to take away what she loves.”

“She is jealous of me then?” pondered
Lyralliantha. “She fears I will take you away.” Then she smiled, “How silly.
You are my kianthi. I cannot control you.” She rose and began walking toward
the house. “I will explain this to her.”

He started to follow, but she held up her
hand, “You are not required. Let us talk alone.”

Kate was surprised when she saw the silver
haired woman enter the bedroom. “Oh,” she exclaimed.

“Tyrion has explained your fear to me,”
said Lyralliantha without preamble.

“Fear?” said Kate, her eyes narrowing
slightly. “I think perhaps he may not have used the best words.”

“Fear might be wise,” remarked
Lyralliantha. “My people have not been kind to him, or to you.”

“I know better than that,” answered Kate,
“at least where you’re concerned. I need to thank you for fixing my leg.”

“You are welcome,” said Lyralliantha, “but
I did not come to speak on trivial matters. I wish to explain my intentions,
to allay your concerns.”

Kate was growing steadily more
uncomfortable. She barely knew the strange woman, and Lyralliantha’s
directness was disconcerting. There was no help for it, though. Steeling
herself, she gestured toward the bed, “Would you like to sit?”

The She’Har woman nodded and took a spot
near the foot of the bed, while Kate followed suit and sat as well, closer to
the head. After a brief pause the She’Har began, “Tyrion is my kianthi. That
will not change. Among the She’Har, this means his interests and mine are
considered one and the same.”

Kate flinched at the formal declaration.
She
might as well have said, ‘he’s mine, not yours’.
She struggled with her
feelings, but she had prepared for this moment. Looking at the floor she
replied, “I will not interfere. I would like to stay, to help with his
children, but I understand if you wish me to leave.”

Lyralliantha’s countenance was one of
puzzlement, “That would not please my kianthi.”

Now it was Kate’s turn to be confused.
She’s
his She’Har wife, does she want me to stay as some sort of servant, or
concubine?
Unsure how to proceed, Kate answered slowly, “I think, that I
worry more for what would please
you.
”

“Has he explained the meaning of ‘kianthi’
to you?” asked Lyralliantha.

“It’s something like our marriage customs,
isn’t it?”

Lyralliantha laughed lightly.

It was a delicate sound that immediately
annoyed Kate.
No one should have such a beautiful laugh. How can I compare
to a woman like this?

Seeing the change in Kate’s aura, the
She’Har stopped, “I did not mean to offend. It might be easier if I could show
you, mind to mind. Will you permit me?” Lyralliantha lifted one hand, palm
outward, indicating she wanted to place it on Kate’s head.

Kate scooted away slightly, “Wait. Will
you read my mind?”

Lyralliantha nodded, “Yes, but I will also
share mine.”

“There are things…,” began Kate, but she
didn’t know how to finish. “Whatever you see, please understand I want only
the best for him.”

“Our words are only furthering the misunderstanding,
let me show you what the elders taught me,” said the blue-eyed woman.

Kate took a deep breath, “Alright.”

“Lie down. This may take some time. Your
body will grow tired of sitting,” said Lyralliantha.

She did as she was told, and the She’Har
woman lay down next to her. The two of them were on their sides face to face,
and then Lyralliantha reached across, resting her hand gently on the side of
Kate’s head, fingers on her temple.

The room vanished, replaced by a new
place. A vast world surrounded them, and a red sun filled the sky. A forest
stretched across the land, but it was different than the one Kate was familiar
with, this forest was less uniform, more varied. Many of the trees were huge,
like the god-trees she had become familiar with, but others were different,
more slender, taller, shorter, and their leaves took a multitude of shapes.
Somehow she knew that most of them were not She’Har. She could hear their
voices through her—roots? As her awareness grew Kate realized she no longer
had her old body, she was one of the trees, one of the She’Har.

The world moved around her, and the sun
passed overhead with surprising speed. She was unable to move herself, but she
was not lonely, for the forest was filled with voices, and she spoke with the
other trees through her roots which stretched for miles in every direction.
Their minds were simple, less complex than hers, but she felt a close bond with
them, and through them she received messages from other She’Har, whose roots
were too far away for her to reach directly. The entire forest was alive, and
their roots formed a vast network that connected trees across the world.

It was a paradise of sorts. She knew when
the rain was coming, for the trees shared the knowledge with one another. But
it was not a perfect world. There were problems. The worst was an arthropod,
a multi-legged creature with a hard carapace. It crawled through the canopy
and ate the leaves of some of the trees, but it had a special liking for the
She’Har. When it found one of them it would burrow deep into the bark,
wounding her people. If left unchecked, it would multiply, and soon the
She’Har would die.

Most pests were easy for the She’Har to
deal with, but this one camouflaged itself, hiding from their magesight. When
they burrowed into the She’Har, they worked quickly, and their bodies secreted
a substance that numbed the host, making it difficult to sense their presence
until it was too late.

Left unchecked, the She’Har would have
soon died out, and their arthropod killers with them, for the parasitic
creatures could not reproduce without the She’Har to feast upon. Fortunately,
there were other hunters beneath the canopy of the endless forest—large,
graceful, furry beasts with long limbs and sharp claws. They had a special
taste for the arthropods that plagued the She’Har, as well as for ‘calmuth’, the
fruit produced by the sentient trees.

In the beginning, their partnership was
accidental, but fortunate, and over time the She’Har grew fond of the arboreal
creatures that lived with them. In their own slow way, they named the
creatures that protected them, the “kianthi”, but they could not speak with
them as they could with the other trees.

The She’Har were different than the other
trees and even the animals of that world, for they could change things. The
kianthi ate their seeds and spread the She’Har, but the process was random, for
the intelligence of the kianthi was limited, so the She’Har changed their seeds
to benefit both themselves and the kianthi. Now, once the kianthi ate the seed
of the She’Har the seed remained with them, and it worked many changes upon
their minds. The kianthi became intelligent, and the seed of the She’Har gave
it the power to change the world, to manipulate aythar, as the She’Har did.

When the kianthi eventually died, the seed
would germinate, and a new She’Har would emerge, growing from the earth
fertilized by its host’s body, but it would remember the life of the kianthi it
was born from. In time, the She’Har and the kianthi became so close that they
could almost be considered one race. Each tree gave its special gift to only
one kianthi at a time, but the She’Har lived much longer than the kianthi.
Over the course of its life, a She’Har might give rise to several offspring,
while the children of its kianthi were far more numerous.