~~Chapter One

The rain from the storms had slowly tapered off since the early hours of the day, a light drizzle coming down from the light gray sky as thought the last tears of the night were being shed. There had been no stars out that night since the storms had rolled in during the twilight hours and the sun reluctantly hid behind the clouds with a few rays peaking out from behind a blanket that would not be shed for another several days at the least. It was a shroud that kept the sun from peaking down upon the lands and it seemed like Water favored to keep the light at bay for a while at least; there were reasons for hiding this day and the weakness of the Realm was apparent. This was just the break in the rain fall, the calm before the storm one would say despite the looming clouds overhead and the ones that were to roll in during the next several hours and days.

In the distance the departing storm held only rain and the occasional gust of wind, however the approaching storm held more than that -- it held the charges of light, the sounds of drums, and the howling secrets of the wind. Eerie coming of the storm the old wives muttered, eerie storm indeed – there were too many things that could go wrong within the confines of that wind.

With the news that the wind brought from the forest that protected the Realm from outsiders that had no business inside. It was a sign of things to come or a passing of those that had been lost years ago to the waves of the deep oceans. If only the skies did not look so fierce then the merchant caravans and the traveling bards would not have to hole up in the small villages that dotted the land south of the desert and take up the room that other visitors to the villages needed. There would be another approaching storm that would bring more whispers and more rain that had yet to come.

There was talk around the township of Konirta that the storms were meant to hide something especially since the Order had left the town and did not look like they would return soon. Mutters of Sages and Keepers came up through the Market stalls and tales of seeing flashes of lights in the Si'lara Desert would be the topic of conversations for weeks to come, if the Order allowed them to continue. So long as the Manor of the Holy Order of the Sage remained in Konirta so was the fear that the Order would act on behalf of the Sage, regardless if she ordered it or not. And the rumors that something was happening in the Realm were true if anyone looked at the forest and saw a shadow lurking about the edges as though waiting for something.

This shadow was a man who looked like he had never aged a day since his early twenties, countless lifetimes passing since the day of his birth to the present day. All of which he had seen with his two eyes and he would see countless more if the fates of the Realm would have their way; his immortality was a curse and a blessing but he couldn't tell which was worse to him. His blue, black, and white robes fell to his ankles with the bottom of his knee-high boots visible at the bottom of the robes hem; his clothing barely looked like it was worn as they had been mended and changed in the years that had passed. His clothing changed with the passing times as well, molding into their current form which allowed him freedom to move about and to be protected from the Elements of the World.

He stood at the eastern edge of the small forest that surrounded the Realm, or was at least part of the Realm according to the Holy Order, his black eyes staring into the depths of the approaching storm itself. Those same eyes were unfocused, glazed over and bringing in what he saw from the darkness that came. He frowned at the flashes of memory he had not known he had, his mouth twitching at the sides every ten seconds and long breaths coming in through slightly parted lips. The oak staff, with an emerald stone on top, he carried was leaned on lightly to serve as a reminder to those that bothered him in this state that he was seeing something that they could not and that they should leave him be for the time being. He was concentrating on something, not an object in the distance but the things he could see in his mind.

He closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, and his breathing became ever that much slower. With the sounds of the next approaching storm images of the years before swirled into his mind with the thoughts of the present. This would eventually give way to what he saw in the visions of future events that he had little control over. Tides of lost meanings hidden in a sea of ghosts were what he called them and the hellish ways of his abilities. The lines on his face only deepened, his concentration moving him further from the present reality and into a world that had yet to come true if anyone would let them; he had no intentions of stopping future events as long as they did not concern him.

The things he saw would make even the most rock solid heart weep, for death held a steady hand in his vision. These images were blurry yet he could still understand what hell reigned in the battles of blood, ash, and lives lost. Smoke would rise from underneath jagged cliffs to the west, bodies of innocence thrown into the waste of the Si'lara, homes burned to the ground out of spite, and the shorelines colored crimson by the dark taint of blood. Flashes of war danced across his mind, spears going into the hearts of men and women alike as children cried in the streets. Swords clashing together, metal scraping against metal and cries of war overshadowing those for mercy. The songs of hunger sounded in the distance, then.....

"Sir Trent?" A voice called from behind him, jarring him from the visions. His eyes flew open before his back straightened, his free hand running through his short light brown hair and the frown not letting up. At this point he would have sighed with annoyance and demanded whoever had disturbed him to leave but this time he silently thanked them that this disturbance came. He was not willing to see this particular vision through, none the least.

"Yes?" Trent responded in a softer voice, turning around half way to see who had called to him. A male figure stepped out from the shadows of the trees, brown robes moving with every step that he took. He was not older than the age of twenty although lines of premature age were already upon the edges of his eyes. Trent's face softened slightly at the familiarity of the young man named Tal Mai, if he remembered the name correctly; the face of the man in front of him had been in his visions before. Even if he hadn't known who he was the robes and bald head gave him away as a monk of the Holy Order.

"The ceremony is about to begin," Tal Mai said as he stopped short of the man before him. Their eyes locked briefly before Tal Mai turned his gaze to the rain-soaked ground and shuffled his feet. Trent remained silent for several minutes, watching the young man as he shifted his weight and feet and his gaze remained either downward or elsewhere. There was a certain nervousness about him, like he didn't want to be standing in front of this being unknowing as to what was seen for his own future if it had been seen. He had been told before the red aura that symbolized blood and anger once before but not by Trent, and of the glancing silver lights of an unknown future. "What did you see, if I may ask?"

Trent regarded this question for a moment and frowned deeper, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. If he were to tell anyone of the visions he saw they would be encoded in a riddle for those he told to find out. Even if he was to be more direct with his answer and visions he would still get blank looks and wondering gazes; the beauty of what he saw was that he did not have to tell what he saw. If he told the monk what truly lie in the future, the details of something he did not get to finish seeing, then he would make it seem like it was about him. True it could be but then what about the rest of the vision? It could have been about anything and nothing.

"Death," was all that Trent responded with, placing his staff into his right hand and faced the forest entirely. The monk was no longer in his sight, just another part of the wild meadows that surrounded him and invisible to his eyes. Just as Trent started to move towards and into the forest, his left arm was grabbed forcibly and pulled back slightly.

"I don't mean in the land's future, anyone knows that. I mean mine." Tal Mai's voice suddenly became cold, his words crackling with drops of anger. "Tell me, prophet. What did you see?"

Trent stared straight into the darkness of the forest, the wind of the storm moving the trees before the rain was even close enough to come down upon the lands. He wouldn't look at the monk not for being forced to see the shadows dancing in the eyes but to see the anger that fueled them. No, because he would then be asked to say the riddle of a future he had seen so many times before, one that still haunted his dreams to this very day. It was mixed with the young man's past, one that had been torn apart and had the taint of blood to it so much so that it made him shudder again. Even at the mere thought of it made him shudder, a sigh escaping his lips and his face became expressionless.

He had half of a mind to pull his arm out of this grasp and walk away without saying anything, to keep a wondering mind at bay long enough to make his escape. He wouldn't get far since the Temple grounds of the Realm was in the middle of the same forest he stood at the edge of, three miles away to be exact from all directions and the entire Holy Order of the Sage was on the Temple grounds. It wouldn't take them very long to reach the walls of the Realm once they were inside the forest, an hour at the least if they hurried; distance in the forest surrounding and in the Realm itself had a way of allowing a two hour journey to be cut in half, shorter still if one knew the correct path. Both were going in the same direction and would find themselves face-to-face once again and with the same questions as well. No, he would answer the question and leave it be until another point in time.

"When your anger calms down," Trent started, yanking his arm free, "then ask me again."

He didn't let any more words be spoken, his own words ending the short and pointless conversation between monk and prophet. Trent calmly strode into the forest walls, intent on slowly walking the three miles to the outer edges of the Realm then heading south to where the large entrance to the Temple lay. He would be allowed into the grounds as he always had the young monk right behind him with a sullen and defeated presence about him; he was unsure if the magical barrier surrounding the archway would allow such anger to pass through. If it took longer then an hour then it took him normally to get into the Realm, so be it. He was in no rush to be there.

He would be right on time to see the process finished, as he usually was and did, and the process of bringing in a new rule would start once again. Why his presence was needed there he still could not figure out -- the Order could do the ceremony with or without the old mystic. It was just drawing of blood, a speech of words, then he would leave, free to roam the land once again until the Sage requested his presence. That is, if he ever got there at the beginning of the ceremony like he should and he hadn't been there with the last two Sages; had the Order really been around for that long? Two thousand years was a long time for anything to be around that had been man-made.

Oh how he hated the passing of the title.

XXXX

The handing down of a title held the least amount of excitement one could possibly enjoy, the words of how well the ones before them had ruled and how it would determine the line years later. Most went without acknowledgement, handing down a role to a younger mind and allowing that mind to mold the future in their hands without the words said to a crowd of strangers. Others, however, were more important than to ignore, celebrations going hand-in-hand with the ceremony of the title. And this one was one of that few would forget in the next century, if they knew that it was taking place.

She stood at the entrance to the towering ancient temple, twin double willow doors towering over her like strong twin giants. She had her hands and arms at her sides, red hair pulled into a bun at the back of her head and blue eyes transfixed on the rather large courtyard in front of her. She hardly even took notice of the events that were going on around her, choosing to look elsewhere instead of at the faces of people that she most likely would never see again or would forget who they were in the coming years. The stone courtyard, with all of the puddles and leaves blown in from the surrounding forest, held her interest more than a group of monks.

Monks of all ranks were busy about her, moving around the grounds like they were at home in the Manor of the Order as they touched the bushes in the gardens with a prayer or two. There were several monks within the temple itself, moving about the kitchens as though the food inside was for them; if she had her way at the present time, all this would have been over before it even began.

Almost all of the Holy Order was present, if not all of them, save for the leader of the Order and a younger monk who had gone to search for the prophet. Why he was needed at this ceremony she didn't know and hadn't challenged the decision of the Order's leader since his third visit to the temple some six months before. Oh he had been in the Realm since then but she had never spoken Trent's name since then and wouldn't unless need be.

The monks that passed her did not even take heed of her blank stare or her fidgeting with her robe; if they did, it was assumed she was nervous, scared, or a little bit of both. In essence they were wrong -- she was bored. She had heard lectures about her title, information on those that had come before her, and what to expect in her role that she was undertaking from others that were about to give up their powers to a new generation. She had understood what she had to do months before any of the monks had bothered to start giving her more details of what was to come yet the Order had insisted upon the ceremony. It was required they had said, of one who was ascending into the position she was going into and would give her the power to continue on.

Regardless, she had ignored half of what she had been told by monks and listened more to Trent; she could trust what he had to tell her when he decided to stop speaking in riddles. From what he had told her, the ceremony was just for show and that her true powers would be given to her before the Order's ceremony was to begin. That suited her just well since the transfer of power had left her rather dizzy, disoriented, and weak; if it had been done the night before she would have refused to do anything until she felt ready to so and she would be in the right power to refuse anything the Order did or said. What they said was nearly as good as a king or queens but it still did not overrule hers or the Keepers; if the rulers of the other lands had their way as well, the Order wouldn't even exist.

Her eyes came back into focus, her lips moving with unheard and unspoken words -- she could feel the excitement coming from the monks but couldn't feel it herself. There had been excitement over her new role when she had been first told it seven years before just as she had been yanked from her life and placed into training that had taken the bulk of those years. Everything had to be relearned, new knowledge placed into her mind, and new allies forged over the crystal blue lake that sat on the temple grounds. Her eyes darted to the right, a soft smile coming upon her lips as she watched the lake move quietly in the drizzling rain and changing wind. The lake itself sat about three hundred and fifty feet from the seventy foot by seventy foot courtyard that sat in the front of the temple. Memories of that lake would cross over with her when she gave up the title in a thousand years and carry over into the new rule then as well.

Several large drops of water fell from the sky, landing upon her head and shoulders. Her eyes blinked, her head moving up towards the sky with the same look she had on when she had looked around the grounds. The clouds moving from the east were growing darker and the wind grew slightly more fierce, indicating that the full force of the second storm was at least an hour from reaching the temple grounds if that long. To her it was a sign that something bad was about to happen or had already; if she could get a spare moment with Trent she would ask what was going on. She couldn't read the way wind made the leaves twist or the hidden messages within the clouds as well as the Keepers did, just the feeling and the chills that ran down her body made her sure that something was brewing outside the confines of the temple grounds. Even so, she smiled and laughed into the wind that swirled around her and the rain that started to begin to pour.

"We should postpone the ceremony. The weather is too much," she heard a female voice say, her head jerking down from the sky and all laughter and expressions left her face just as blank as before. Monks were still scurrying about despite the rain and wind yet two were walking towards her without so much notice as to what was going on around them.

They were in their late age both wearing white robes with a purple flower on top of a golden sun stitched on the front of the garments and boots that were all but the bottom were hidden by these same robes. The woman walked to the right of the man, who had his hands clasped behind his back and eyes cast downward to the courtyard ground like he was considering the woman's words. He hardly seemed to take heed that the rain was coming down as it was or that there was a pair of eyes watching him come towards the temple. The woman was more aware of her surroundings and held a large cloth over her head and shoulders; not that it did much good to keep the rest of her body dry, but at least her hair remained less wet.

"There is nothing wrong with the weather. It is just fine," the man responded, raising his eyes up. Unlike the other monks present, his eyes gave the young woman the first look she had all day and a soft smile from his lips. She didn't respond to that gestured, instead held a neutral look upon her face. It didn't deter the man's smile, just made him smile more broadly.

"Trent and Tal Mai aren't even here!" The woman shouted as the two came closer to her. Any monks that had been the closest to her jumped and scurried off, glad that those word were not directed towards them. "In the years since the beginning of the Realm, the prophet has always been at the Sage's ceremony."

The girl standing at the entrance to the temple had to force her eyes from rolling and to keep herself from laughing out loud. Since Trent becoming prophet, which had been after the forming of the Realm or so the tales go, he had not been at all of the ceremonies that had seen Sages taking their places in the Realm's history. The Order wasn't even that old -- maybe around three thousand years if that long and the Realm, Sage, and prophet had been around countless generations before the forming of the Order. Still she wasn't one to correct the mistake of the Monks; it was better to let them believe what they wanted to believe and keep the facts within those that knew better.

"I am perfectly aware that neither one is present at this time, Leiko," he responded, stopping as soon as they were within two feet of the woman. "However I am quite positive that Trent has better things to do then to watch. After all, how many has he seen in his lifetime?"

She could have sworn that there was compassion in the old man's voice, something that had not been in his voice the last time he had mentioned the prophet in her presence. The assumption was that he did not care for the mystic and thought that he was trying to disband the Order rather than let them go about their own ways, and it was more correct then the leader of the Order would say to anyone, even to himself. He didn't trust Trent farther then he could throw him and Trent most likely felt the same way. Still, to hear the man in front of her speak like it was nothing that Trent hadn't come through the archway quite yet was something she would have to remember for later and hopefully throw back at him later.

She knew Trent only from the times they had spoken over the last few years, her training, and before that by reputation alone; when she had been chosen to succeed the former Sage, it was him that had taken her from her home. From what she understood, the Order had not chosen her first but rather another and Trent had, for some reason, gone against the request. But that was all it was -- a request. The Order had little to no say what went on in the Realm and with what the Sage and Keepers did and said; they could only give suggestions to the Realm, nothing more. The Order was only there to be messengers for the Sage, neither to keep order in the Realm nor to be the Keepers of the Elements. Their power was limited to their own knowledge and network of spies that ran secret deals with those that could keep the world safe.

"Lucien, pleasure to see you again." She dipped her head towards the man she had greeted and held a stiff smile. She had spoken before either one could continue their conversation and was not inclined to break into it when it became an argument. "Leiko, the same to you."

"Now, now Child. There is no need to be prim and proper." Lucien waved a hand as he turned towards her. "After all you are no longer in training and you're leagues above me."

"She isn't the Sage yet," Leiko muttered, putting the cloth she held over her head upon her shoulders and adjusting it around her neck so that the rain would not go down the neck of her robes. She stared hard at the woman in front of her with a frown. "The ceremony will have to wait until the weather clears up. The rain is...."

"A little water never hurt anything. Besides, it's all been prepared for today," Lucien said mildly, walking up to the younger woman and placing his hands upon her shoulders. She gave a quick shudder when his old hands touched her around her neck, a swift coldness emitting from his fingertips. "The ceremony will start shortly, rain or not. Trent can afford to miss one Sage's ceremony, can he not?"

She saw the edges of his mouth twitch barely, and had to do that without Leiko taking notice. Instead he gave Leiko the same stern look she was giving him in return as he placed an arm over the girl's shoulder and led her towards the center of the courtyard. The two women locked eyes when they passed her, both frowning at each other before their gazes broke and Leiko turned to follow them. The girl turned her head forwards long enough to glance towards the entrance of the Realm as though she expected Trent to be standing there, waiting for the ceremony to be over with. She didn't believe he would be and had no indications that he would bother himself with something that, to him, was trivial. Had he predicted I would ascend to Sage in the Order's eyes, on a dark day? She wondered to herself. Or had that been something else entirely?

"I hope you are ready for this, Child. Few Sages have had second chances," Leiko muttered in a low voice, following behind the two as they stopped in the middle of the courtyard. The monks that had been scurrying about with final perpetrations were moving along the edge of the courtyard and going into a kneeling position where they once stood. They were spread out along the entire edge of the large courtyard, almost enough bodies to completely go around the large slab of stone. It would amaze anyone who saw them to know just how many monks there were in the Order and how few were ever out at any other time.

Lucien placed the woman in front of a medium sized glass bowl that sat upon a black marble pedestal that came up to her chin and looked like it had more than dust and dirt faded into it. Water had gathered inside the bowl where a small curved dagger rested inside, his left hand reaching into the bowl to fetch the dagger. The blade didn't appear to be sharp enough to be of any use in battle or daily use in other trades, it's purpose solely for ceremonies such as this.

Her eyes flickered to the small blade then back to Lucien's unreadable, age-hardened face. Leiko stood not far from him with her hands holding the fabric around her shoulders and clearly not happy about the weather or something else entirely; if she was unhappy about the choices in Sage and Keepers then she didn't speak up. The monks present held their kneeling positions, their eyes closed and hands laying upon their knees; they would remain this way until the ceremony was finished or their knees gave way from being on the hard stone.

"This day marks a new era of Elements and wisdom, a time when the old blood becomes stronger and flows into the veins of the young," Lucien began, holding up the dagger to the darkened sky. "The ways of the Sage will continue with her and the blade of a thousand years shall touch her skin."

She had seen the dagger several times during her walks in the temple, asking once what it was and what it was used for, a purpose that she didn't understand at the time. Trent had explained it was used for more the ceremony then it was for anything else; the Holy Order believed that the dagger gave the next Sage her powers from the Sage before when that Sage had placed those same powers into it. It was a myth played out to them since the previous Sage had to physically give her powers to the next in line every thousand years and that gave whoever was next to have control of the Realm and the World before the Order knew anything about it. It was done up to a year before the ceremony day came and the first of the monks had even stepped foot on temple ground; if the prior Sage could leave behind excuses for her absence then the Order would never know of what had come before. Hers had been done a week and a half prior to this day and it was more than enough time for her to reclaim her bodies functions before the first few monks had started to arrive.

It had been a painful experience for her to receive the gift of an extended life and powers exceeding that of her own but she was still standing and alive after the exchange of power. It hadn't been such a bother to have something given to her in that manner, other then the fainting spell and awakening the next day with her whole body aching and everything around her spinning. Trent had been the only person she had seen after that, excluding the monks, and he had to guide her through the last steps of the journey from regular child to the Sage of a mystical Realm. Those steps were done rather quickly but quietly and with patience; one could not hold onto a flame or a breath of wind while bringing up breakfast from the morning behind a bush. Once the initial shock had worn off, and she could go about her daily duties, the last step was taken and she held onto the power of the Realm.

The exchange of power came with a price -- the last Sage lost her life in preserving the line of watchers of the land and ensuring that there would be someone to keep the balance should there ever be a struggle for control. She would do the same in a thousand years when the time came to give her powers to the next Sage, regardless of how that played out in the uncertain future. She had made a vow while standing over the former Sage's body that she would be just as strong as she had been and would try to bring the Realm into a new age, all with tears in her eyes; even Trent had to step away so that no one would see the mists of tears rolling down his cheeks.

She held out her both of her arms in front of her, Leiko stepping forwards and rolled up the young woman's sleeves. The rain had started to come down a bit heavier than it had before, lightning crackling overhead and thunder booming in response in the distance. She winced at the sounds the storm brought and wind, Leiko's eyes glancing up at her for a second, her hands pausing before she resumed. The silk fabric of the sleeves was rolled up to her elbows, light enough so that she sleeves would not fall down once everything came to a close. Leiko stepped back, tugging at the makeshift shawl around her as Lucien lowered the dagger.

"Today, amongst the wind and rain, we welcome a new Sage into the line. May she rule the Realm in peace and spread her wisdom throughout the land." Lucien smile was forced as the new Sage's interest was real, as he took her right arm and turned it so the palm faced upwards. She knew what he was going to do and the look on his face told her he much rather put the point of the dagger elsewhere.

The dagger plunged into her wrist, a searing pain moving up her arm and into her body, rippling throughout her nerves. It wasn't as bad as her receiving her Sage powers but having a blade pierce her skin and into the muscle wasn't something she would brush off easily either. Lucien pulled the dagger from the wrist and turned her arm around so that the blood coming from the wound dripped onto the stone below. He then placed her bleeding arm over top the bowl, blood and rain dripping into the water already inside of it so that a small puddle would form. She watched the two liquids meet and swirl inside the bowl, the pain from the wound becoming a dull, throbbing ache. By the next day it would be gone, wrapped neatly underneath bandages for the rest of the world to see what had happened.

Lucien let go of her arm and preceded to repeat the process a second time for her other arm. Any being would have pulled her arm away at this point in more than pain, however she had to go along with the ceremony no matter how false of a front she had to put on. In her mind she already made plans to dissolve this ritual, her teeth gritting together so she wouldn't scream out in pain when the dagger went into her left wrist and allowed blood to flow for a second time. It is not worth standing here and having this done to my arms, She thought to herself, her arm moving over top the bowl. Lucien didn't seem to take notice the flash of anger that was on her face, even when the lighting above illuminated the area for a brief moment. Instead he went on with moving her arms to the side and placing the dagger back into the bowl. There it would stand for a month until one of the monks removed it and placed the dagger and bowl back into their respected resting places.

"The bloodline of the Sages now flows in your veins and their power now is yours to command." Lucien turned her around to face the monks who were now moving their upper bodies to the ground to bow down to her. "My lady Sage, I give you the Holy Order of the Sage. We are your advisors and your guard."

"Nice," she muttered, her eyes moving along the lines of monks that were still bowing to her. As she turned her head to the right side of the courtyard, a brush of movement caught her eye. She turned her head towards the entrance, two figures entering the temple grounds but staying away from the courtyard. She knew who they were, a fleeting smile coming onto her lips before it vanished just like it had appeared. Lucien didn't seem to take heed of those that had entered, leading her off to the temple with Leiko in tow. The rest of the monks would stay in their position until she left the courtyard and out of their sight. And she was glad to get away from it.

XXXX

Trent and Tal Mai quietly stepped into the grounds of the temple, their presence unknown until they reached the courtyard in front of them. There they would find the monks still bowing to the departed Sage or standing up to make sure that the seals on the pedestal were still intact so it wouldn't fall over in the rain or wind of the storms that were sure to come. Rain would have deluded her blood to a point where it was barely usable to keep any and all protective spell alive around the temple and Realm but it would do until a later date; or so said the Order.

The prophet had purposely made himself and Tal Mai late for the brief ceremony, partly due to the lack of interest in seeing blood spilled untarnished and because the true power of the Sage had already been handed down to her already. It was all but needed in a time when the image of the Holy Order was already at its peak and there was little use for the monks to hold a useless ceremony that only cause more pain then it was worth. In a way he felt sorry for the Sage to have to go through another jolt of pain in less than two weeks’ time and would have to tell her so when there were no other ears to hear him say so. He hadn't exactly warned her of what the ceremony included except that it was requested by the Order to be done and that it included the use of the dagger.

"Looks like it's over," Tal Mai observed as they drew close to the courtyard. Indeed it was, as bodies were moving into a standing position and were slowly going into the center of the courtyard. If they had come during any other time in the short ceremony then the monks would still be kneeling on the hard stone or would have been bowing to the Sage.

"Don't sound so disappointed," Trent said with a smile. "You missed nothing that happened in these walls. All it requires is some blood, a few words, and she became Sage. That's all it is to it."

"Just like that?" Tal Mai stopped walking entirely and stared straight at the temple like he had never seen it before. Trent had taken several more steps before he stopped as well and turned around. He expected the monk to look disheartened at the revelation that there was nothing to the ceremony but two cuts to the hands or wrists, a sentence or two about the old and new blood, and then the Order believed that the Sage gained her powers.

"You were expecting something grander?" He asked the smile fading. "You know better than I that this many Holy Order monks can't be absent for a long period of time even though the majority of them have been gone up to a week already. It's not like the coronation of a king or queen where everyone can attend and those take less time to prepare then a Sage's. I'm surprised half of the monks could get through the archway."

"We all aren't without our faults now are we?" Tal Mai only glanced at him before he started for the courtyard. Trent stared at his back while fighting the urge to hit him on the back of the head with the oak staff he carried; his grip fighting on the handle was proof that he was fighting it hard. Had I been angry as he is at that age? Or do I not remember that time? He wondered, his head tilting upward towards the coming rain.

Normally he would have found a nice little spot to come out of this kind of weather and wait it out until it passed but he was in no hurry to run to the temple quite yet. How many Leaders of the Order have I seen and will see that wanted to see this ceremony done more often? How many were too ignorant of the exchange of power from one Sage to another?

"Too many," he told himself out loud, lowering his head. The temple loomed ahead, a structure that had seen it's fair share of Sages, wars, and changes to the land just as he had, if not more. It had been rebuilt at least a dozen times in his long lifespan and it would be rebuilt a dozen times again and more before the end of time, if that little bit of rebuilding had to be done. He knew it would happen again, he had seen it through his visions, dreams, and the rumors that barely made it past tavern talk. Those were unclear and uncertain, just as the coming years appeared to be. A new Sage had begun her time in the Realm and new protectors of the Elements had already taken their first steps into their Keeper roles.

It would be a very uncertain beginning indeed.

2: Chapter Two

The forest surrounding the Realm held its secrets within the branches of the tall trees and green leaves, holding onto what had come before. It served as a natural barrier to the outside world that surrounded the think brush of trees and bushes, offering a protection that not even a hundred soldiers could offer. The trees acted like a maze of patterns that could not be duplicated in any natural or being-created maze, warding off most would-be attacks in the large woods. Between each wall to the temple grounds and the outskirts of the forest, three miles exactly from all directions held the first barrier to the Sage. Many would get lost between these threes if they did not know their way or were without a decent compass with them; even that small device sometimes did not work properly in the wood.

Those that knew their way around kept the secrets to the Realm and guarded the edges of the forest carefully with their lives. Even in weather such as this, rain coming down from the heavens and the rolling thunder answering the call of lightning, there were pairs of eyes that watches. They remained quiet for the time being, holding still in the trees and letting the wind take their information all over the forest and perhaps even beyond the barrier of bark and branch. They trust the wind to hold tight to what the forest knew, a trust that would not be easily broken even with the darkest taint at the doorstep of the temple.

The creatures of the forest were in their homes or had found little notches of dry patches, coming out of the rain but still maintaining an eye out in the open. Rabbits poked their noses and ears out of their holes every five rolls of thunder, sniffing the air and listening to the wind as it howled past before they darted back into their burrow to tell of what was

3: Chapter Three

The rainstorms had lasted for the better part of a week, thunder and lightning crashing together with few moments of silence between the wars of sounds and light. The rain had shifted from a light drizzle to a raging downpour often in a span of a few seconds, allowing little time to run between houses, market stalls, and shelter before the clouds opened up and torrents came down. From the Ca'eil ruins in the west to the far reaches of the homesteads to the west and from the Cyan shore in the south to the Si'lara desert in the north, there was nothing that had been left untouched by this raging storm and swirling clouds. Even the Si'lara desert got more rain in this week alone then it had in the last ten years.

There had been several whispers of fires in the badlands and Laneah forest, due in part of the lightning crashing from above. How much damage the storm had caused by lightning along wasn't known since few dared to travel into the forest after the storm and the badlands were far less traveled even in the daytime. The fires had been taken care of by a lady in blue, or so the rumors of the villagers claimed of the Water Keeper. Aleema had attempted to keep herself hidden from the bandits that often called the borders of the badlands and forest home but it was unavoidable when she used water to ease the flames of fire, water that came out of nowhere. Any wandering eyes had been hit with a jet of water and chased out of the forest and into the Homesteads themselves.

There had been just as many reports of flooding as there had been with fires, with water killing crops and drowning livestock. Most of these water-based rumors came from the Quakerson Islands where the few villages had gotten the lesser evil of the storm. Still with small, barely populated farming and fishing towns dotting the small islands, a small flood was always a problem. A seasons worth of crops could very easily be destroyed in a single flood, two years’ worth of payment and bartering gone in a matter of days. However the damage caused by the rain was not as severe as it had been claimed and life would go on as it should.

With the storms fading into the ocean and other places unknown, the common folk were beginning to come out of their homes and go on with the outside chores they had neglected to do during the rains. With the sun starting to move into the mid-day sky, the town of Konirta once again bustled with life. Children played in the puddles left by the rainstorm, merchants setting up their stalls with their wares in the middle of the township, soldiers moving their training outdoors where they had more room, and the first hints of the first festivals of the season were beginning to bloom. There was laughter coming from the marketplace, laughter that had been longed for in so many days; it was a joy to be outside once again. Pent up energy now could be used to play and roam the streets of Konirta for the time being. At least until it was time to go inside for the night or the last lessons of the day were taught.

The only one that did not seem to be enjoying the bright day was Lucien and he had very little reason to enjoy it. He stood by the large window of his study that overlooked the last leg of the soldiers training grounds, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. The white drapes were pulled away from the window to allow him to stare out into the open and to allow sunlight to pour into a normally unlit room. It illuminated the bare floorboards around and a foot behind him, to where a light brown rug started to cover the floor. The warmth of the sun did little to help brighten the mood he was in nor did it help the small throbbing ache that had settled into his head earlier in the morning.

He did his best to wish the woman standing by his oak desk away despite him having been the one to call her into this very room, especially as she fingered a black wooden box sitting at the edge of his desk. Her eyes were averted to the banners that hung behind the plush chair beside the desk, her eyes going along the embroidery of each banner. It was embroidered with the Konirta Royal Family crest, a dove perched on a tiger, in the middle of flaming red material. A shield of bronze sat on one side and a gauntlet of silver on the other, showing that the Order would be of some defense for the Royal Family, after the safety of the Sage. The woman had to suppress a smile on that single thought, in light of the knowledge that the Keepers were more of a defense then the Order could ever achieve to be.

He didn't exactly hate the woman for what she was, a person that could easily put an end to his life quicker then he could blink; he didn't even hate her to begin with. It was more of a dislike for not having the choice to appoint her to the role of Keepers, that was the more of the problem then he was willing to admit. All four Keepers knew little of the World surrounding them, especially the Fire Keeper -- he couldn't remember her name but he did remember that she had been born into a high-ranking noble family in the Quakerson island chain, or so he heard. How she got away from the island and into the role of a Keeper, he didn’t know but would eventually find out.

Whatever she or the other three knew of the World was vastly limited to the lives they had before their current positions and he knew more about how harsh and cruel the untamed wilds were. The names of the ones the Order had picked out for Keepers knew more than all four combined but were not chosen; if he didn't think Trent had anything to do with it, Lucien was sure someone else had been the influence but the Prophet was the only one that had more influence then the Sage herself.

"You've been here for four days and you have nothing else to tell me?" Lucien asked rather loudly for the space that they were in, keeping himself facing the window. He did it to hide the frown he had on his lips and to keep his gaze from looking upon the woman. When she didn't answer for several minutes his frown only got deeper. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," Calso said, snapping her head forwards and staring at Lucien's back. "There isn't much to tell you more other than what I've already told you and the King. The Ca'eil..."

"Yes, I know." He turned his head downward and sighed. "That much you've already told me."

The Order had given the public impression that they had been lucky to have a Keeper within the limits of Konirta's borders, as Calso had few errands to attend to inside the township. Those errands seemed to include the Royal Family and a few soldiers had muttered their general displeasure quite loudly at the sight of any Keeper giving information to the King on the outside World. That was enough for the monks to bring Calso in for Lucien to interrogate about what Konirta's Royal Family wanted where soldiers should have been used to get information on Ca'eil movements, or so the soldiers thought Calso was telling the King.

Not that the Ca'eil were any threat to the rest of the World past the Cliffs, as long as they did not repeat the battles that had overcome the lands to the west of the badlands again -- but Lucien didn't see the need not to be extra cautious and this particular Keeper could hear things where others could not

Calso hadn't been -- and still wasn't -- happy about being pulled from the street like she was a common bandit and pulled towards the Manson where the Order called home. If there hadn't been town-folk about the street who didn't know she was a Keeper and innocent lives were all about her, the wind would be more fierce then it had been during the storm. Even if it was on the command of the head of the Order, she did not like being taken like that by being surrounded with five monks and marched into the mansion without warning.

The current subject she and Lucien were discussing wasn't even present at the meeting with the Konirta's Royal Family, a fact that the King himself could verify. All the King and Queen wanted to know was how any current weather conditions were going to affect the up-coming festivals, which brought in more coins and goods from the Trade Route then any other time of the year. Of course the Order and soldiers did not need to know this bit of information and she wasn't about to give them it, not when the glare and speculation weren't even being addressed to her.

"What more do you want to know?" Calso asked, running a hand over the long box several more times. "Besides it's not unusual for Ca'eil to come into the wilderness with war on their minds. They aren't just confined to the cliffs ,you know, and often don't stay there, especially if they feel threatened."

Lucien knew this very well himself indeed, as he turned around to finally come face-to-face with Calso, missing the emphasis on the word 'threatened' or, if he had understood the meaning, ignored it completely. The Keeper looked bored and could very easily wreck everything in the room, uninterested in the conversation and slight exchange of information between the two. What she knew about things he wanted to know only made him fidget inwardly; the wind told her more about current events then what Trent could see in his visions. From what he knew, the Prophet didn't just tell anyone his secrets and the Wind Keeper was doing a better job than Trent could.

"What do you want, anyways? The Order has little interest in Ca'eil affairs and this request hardly seems worth your time. Besides," she started, looking barely at him or was about to use a bit of her power to get her out of there. The head of the Order grimaced at the dull look in her eyes; if she had given the same look to the Royal Family, she wouldn't last long as a Keeper, "I have other things to do then to worry about a wandering person or two from the cliffs."

"As it should be," he said low enough so the woman in front of him wouldn't hear him. Then he raised his voice and cleared his throat. "As the dangers of the outside world grow so does the concerns for the safety of the citizens of Konirta and how the Realm will protect them. There is a need to keep a watchful eye on the areas surrounding the cliffs and the desert. With us being the closest township to the Realm there is a pressuring need to keep all safe."

"As the king mentioned," she said dryly. She fought to keep a smile off of her lips, knowing full well that the king himself had said nothing of the sort to her in that last meeting and wouldn't be too bothered if the Head of the Order said otherwise. She had no intention of disclosing what the king nor the queen said. "I have yet to cross the Si'lara desert myself but if you ask Aleema she could tell you more about the dangers of the desert herself. She has spent a number of months there before becoming Keeper, if I heard Trent correctly." Inwardly she smiled to herself, knowing exactly how the Water Keeper felt towards the man standing before Calso. "The cliffs are of no worry as only a few Ca'eil have ventured out of the ruins at a time and in small numbers. The last Ca'eil battle was a century ago and the fountain in the square of Nanola was a peace offering to amend for some of their deeds, or so Maylessa tells me."

"They are still a threat, Mistress Keeper. Do not assume that time has turned those fiends into pacifists. Several soldiers have died in the last several years because of the Ca'eil." Lucien suppressed a grimace all the while gesturing towards the doorway; if Calso wasn't going to give him something he wanted, he didn't want her to spend any more time in the mansion then she already had. Walking towards the door he expected Calso to remain where she was but was more then relieved when she took his lead. "Where is Aleema at the moment? She and I need to have a small discussion."

"She said she'd be in the Homesteads for a day or so, the last time I saw her," she replied. With the Homesteads, a large area of houses, farms, and mills at the crossroads of both the badlands and the Laneah forest, Calso wouldn't have been surprised that Aleema would just be getting there if she had gone directly through. With a small corner of the Homestead land that touched both forest and swamp, even a Sage would have a hard time navigating through that terrain; the badland swamps alone were enough to have merchant travelers use the long trading route around just to bypass it. The trading route was quicker even by the two days extra it would take to use the winding road that went through the southern tip of the land but it was safer to navigate through then swamp was. "Although she could have gone straight through to the Misty Shores, there's a small village east of the trade route that had some flooding."

Lucien had started to open the door to allow Calso out when he stopped halfway and turned towards her fully. He had grown accustomed to masking his emotions in situations like this and it appeared as though he hadn't heard her correctly. In truth he expected the Keepers to be scattered about the World further then they were by now since they had received their powers and not hovering around the Realm like homesick pups. There had to be good reason why there were two Keepers within at least a few hundred miles of the Realm and not because of the recent storm; there had been far worse storms that hit this region and not one of them had Keepers there to make sure that the common folk could pick up the pieces afterwards. That had been the duty of the leader of villages, not the element holders.

Although surprised that Aleema would be in a town known for its pirates and bandits, he was even more surprised that none of them were farther away than he had expected. When he saw the Sage again he would have to remind her to guide the Keepers away from the Temple grounds and into the World itself; a Sage's duty did not include babysitting younglings. For now Lucien would have to play on the surprise that a Keeper would be in a place that gave the Homesteads more of a headache then storms did.

"Murele?" Lucien wondered after a moment of silence. "The pirate village?"

Calso saw him wince at the mere mention of one of the villages on the eastern coast and she sighed, wondering if it was worth mentioning that she didn't know herself. Murele was hardly worth mentioning to anyone that didn't want to get mixed up with bandits or spurned sailors that only played pirates to get away with responsibility. To someone like Aleema, anyone who wanted to hide away for a few days this village was perfect. The times anyone went to find the ones hiding inside Murele were few and far between and she seriously doubt the monks of the Order wanted to talk to a Keeper that badly to go to a place where pirates made their home.

"I suppose but I don't keep the wind chasing after other Keepers, that's not my job." Calso smiled broadly at the head of the Order. "Have one of your monks find her yourselves if you really want to talk to her that badly. I'm sure she's still safely within the Homesteads at the time but if you are willing to check that's up to you. I actually have other things to do and...."

"Calso, listen." Lucien reached out and grabbed the Keeper tightly by the wrist. "Do not shrug off small threats like you are doing right now. Don't be aloof when there's the World to look out for along with your Elements."

"I know what my duties are, thank you for reminding me. Looking after the World is the Sage's job, not a Keeper." Calso pulled her wrist free from Lucien's grasp, her face darkening. Normally she would allow someone telling her how to do her job to not affect her but a persistent person would anger her rather quickly than someone who didn't tempt their hands at fate. She strode carefully through the door but paused halfway through; what would happen to a Keeper if they used an Element against a mortal being intentionally? "Next time the Order wishes to recommend Keepers, don't. You'll only hate the choices later."

Calso moved entirely out of the doorway and into one of the many corridors that made up the interior of the manor. Lucien watched her stride away, his blood boiling and teeth clenching together rather tightly; this anger had to be directed at something and he would find that something to take it out on. Calso had already left and the monks -- most likely either already knowing what would happen between a Keeper and Lucien or sensed anger in the manor -- stayed clear of Lucien's study for the time being. He would vent his frustrations on something later.

"You four weren't the first choices even by the Sage," Lucien muttered to the now empty corridor before he shut the door and leaned against it with a long, drawn out sigh. "Keepers."

It was one of those days where he wished he could have just stayed in his own quarters.

XXXX

Calso stalked from the closed door of Lucien's study, nowhere as close to angry she had lead the Head of the Order to believe she was. Instead she felt calm and ready to go about her day as though she had never entered the Temple; she would go about her plans as before. She was already late on getting an early start back to the to the Realm where the Sage would give advice and hopefully train her a bit more on the Element side before she made her way to the south in two days’ time. That prospect of training made her smile on the outside but cringe inside, even training with the prior Keepers hadn't been fun.

From what Trent and the Wind Keeper before her had told her, it wasn't rare that new Keepers came into their Elemental powers the same time a new Sage did but it was still very uncommon. Most Sages kept the same Keepers as the Sage before them did and quite often any given Keeper could protect and use their respected Element for as long as their services were needed. That or they chose to step down when they no longer wished to carry the burden of the Elements, like the last four Keepers had. Calso couldn't remember exactly how long the four before them had remained Keepers but the new generation of Keepers hadn't been chosen for quite a while. They had seen at least five or six Sages come and go, maybe more than that; just thinking how long they had lived made her head spin.

She turned a corner and continued to walk down the corridor with medium haste; she had an idea as to how she would get out of the Manor -- or Temple, if the monks wanted to be correct despite the Order's complex to be more a Manor then a Temple -- but she vaguely remembered how to get out. Several monks walked by her without even glancing at her as though they didn't see her walk past them; that was fine by her. She wanted to concentrate on getting out of the Temple-Manor before she would be whisked away to Lucien's study again and that was something that neither her nor he wanted to have happen at the moment.

Calso had the feeling that she had left the man's feathers rather ruffled and wouldn't be too warm towards the Keepers next time he crossed paths with them again. If Lucien ever found himself fact to face with the Sage again, or even Trent, there would be several words exchanged between them on the attitudes of the Keepers. Barely a Keeper for a month and already getting into trouble, she thought with a grimace. To a passing monk or servant it appeared that the meeting between Keeper and Head of the Order had not gone well and she wasn't about to tell them otherwise.

"What did Lucien want?" A voice behind her demanded. Calso took three more steps before stopping and turning around to the one who assumed was addressing her. A young monk stood two feet away from her with his eyes watching her rather closely and tried to appear expressionless as possible. The wild look in his brown eyes, along with the edges of his mouth twitching, told her that he was either nervous to be speaking to a Keeper or was trying to hold back an unknown emotion.

"And you are...?" She asked lightly, tilting her head to the side slightly. She had seen him before but not enough to remember his name correctly; he normally had been in the presence of Leiko when she was not giving Lucien advice. From what little she knew of this monk, or rather what little she remembered, he had a worse temper then Aleema did and had no patience for the little things.

"Tal Mai," he responded, barely able to suppress the frown it seemed he wanted to share with her. "I'll repeat myself, what did Lucien want?"

"I heard you the first time," Calso muttered, craning her neck around to see if any older monks had stopped to listen in on the conversation. The only other being in the hallway was a servant who was attempt to fix a torch on the other side of the wall when it didn't need to be fixed. When she caught both Calso and Tal Mai watching her, she scowled and walked away, muttering rather nasty words. Calso just shrugged and folded her arms lightly over her chest when she turned back to the monk. "He just wanted to know how I was doing and what the king wanted with the Keepers."

"And?" Tal Mai watched Calso like she had something else to tell him; if he was waiting for any tidbits of information, he would be waiting for a long time.

"I like you; you get right to the point." The Keeper laughed with a wide smile. Ignoring the twitching in his eyes he took several steps forwards and patted him on the check lightly.

"This isn't a laughing matter." Pushing Calso's hand away, he took a step back and glared at her with his piercing brown eyes. "There had to be a reason why Lucien had a Keeper pulled from the street and taken to his study."

Calso's smile faded and a serious expression replaced it rather quickly. Withdrawing her hand she studied the monk's face, taking in every crease in his angered face. She couldn't tell what angered him more, her answer or her light hearted manners to the current conversation. Why does he care what Lucien and I talked about? She wondered. It's not like we were talking of anything important. Still, it would be fun to play with him a moment longer.

"Ask Lucien yourself, boy," she told him with a playful smile, turning around. As she started to walk away she waved a hand over her shoulder to him and laughed quietly to herself. Usually that meant whatever conversations she had with someone were over and she was leaving without another word. However she had a feeling that this Tal Mai still had something to say to her though the aura of anger that emitted from his body that she felt from where she was.

"Do you know where you're going?" Tal Mai called after her. Calso stopped and turned around halfway, clasping her hands in front of her. She expected him to ask her more questions but instead her patiently waited for her to respond despite the anger in his voice. Calso understood the expression and the tone of voice, she had heard and seen it in Aleema many times during their training to become Keepers and if it was festering now, it would only get worse.

"Why do you want to know?" The question was asked more in annoyance than anything else; she just wanted to get out of there. To her surprise the monk laughed; she had expected him to give her a lecture about trying to find her own way out since she was, after all, a Keeper and should know the inner workings of the Temple-Manor by now.

"Because that's direction of the kitchens," he said with a smile. "Come, I'll lead you out."

With that Tal Mai turned on his heels and walked in the other direction. Calso hesitated, turning her head towards the other end of the hallway. She could barely make out a servant moving out of the shadows and towards where the Keeper stood; in her hands she carried an empty tray. Frowning she turned to face Tal Mai but when she did the monk was gone. Grumbling she walked down the corridor to where she had turned only to nearly bump into Tal Mai. Taking a step back, he frowned deeply and motioned to follow him instead of just standing there.

Walking backwards five paces, he turned around and continued to walk forwards. Calso looked down the corridor she had been in, expecting the servant to be right behind the Keeper; instead there was n o one there. The hallway was totally empty of anyone, there was no indication that another being had been in there. Did the servant simply turn around and go the way she came, like she had forgotten something? Or had there been no one there to begin with?

"Are you coming?" Tal Mai called rather irritably to her. Calso blinked her eyes, sighing at the empty corridor once again before turning forwards and moving down the corridor she had once turned off of and in which Tal Mai was waiting impatiently. Now she would be getting out of there and not soon enough.

XXXX

The shoreline beneath the cliffs of the Misty Shore was like an ant to the cliffs above, looking up at the towering figure that ran across the eastern border of the land. What few rocks could be seen from the ocean looked more battered then they had in the years before and waves were still pounding the slabs of rocks that jutted out from the water not even a quarter of a mile away from the shore. The rocks would eventually fade away into the darkness of the ocean and more rock would take their place along the shores; a long cycle of rebirth.

The ocean was still angry with the downpour of rain and clashes of thunder and lightning that had fought with the lands only days before. Strong gusts of wind spraying more then just water onto the shores, the wind moved constantly and effortlessly against the shore and cliffs. Someone was trying to listen in on what was being said at this side of the land, questions would have to be asked about the importance of not eavesdropping on conversations halfway around the land.

The ocean did not like to be bothered by such storms and would rage for several days more until it calmed itself or someone forced the calmness upon it. Few dared to venture even onto the small shores after a storm, afraid that they might be pulled into the foaming waters below. Not even the fishermen of the small villages dared to cross paths with the Elements just yet; they knew how the water worked along this shore.

Or at least they thought they did. With the ever changing tides and currents, it was hard to know where the waves would crash next and where the water would end up. Keeping control of the water was easy enough to do and contain it off the shores; or at least it appeared so. Mutterings of ancient control verses and a gentle hand to guide the waves four times a year to keep the water in a somewhat consistent control was what was needed to keep the world from destroying itself. It took a full day to do so, four times a year wasn't so bad as opposed to the full week it once took. The more times the Elemental control verses were said, the less time was needed to do it in, and less time it took to recover from such a thing.

But over flooding of rain was a thing that she couldn't control, nor was she able to keep the water from raging all the time. Aleema stood at the very edge of the pirate town -- Murele it was called, if she remembered correctly -- her back facing the same cliffs that overlooked the ocean. She could feel the tenseness of the ocean from where she stood, her eyes staring at nothing in particular. One could say she appeared to be daydreaming, her mind elsewhere besides trying to calm the last of the raging waters after a storm. If it were any other day she would agree but today was different. Today she was tired of listening to baseless complaints and was ready to use to her Sage-given powers to quell the spoken words.

The flooding that happened within this town wasn't as bad as the letters from the ship captains had claimed; roughly one-thirds of the homes had water damage that could be easily repaired. The rest of the town barely had any damage at all and there was no proof that it had been done by a force of nature, Elemental or otherwise. If Aleema had her way, the pirates would have their entire town washed away in the next coming storm.

Three of the pirate ship captains -- none of which she remembered their names and all three were a part of some sort of governing body of the town as far as she knew or cared -- were conversing far enough away so she wouldn't overhear them. While their voices were low, something Aleema hadn't thought a pirate could do, their gesturing was wild enough to understand that they weren't agreeing on something. Most of the gesturing was towards her or the ocean itself, not all of it nice; the glares told her they weren't even remotely happy with the results she had given them.

She couldn't help that she wouldn't do anything but inspect the town, as repairing homes and shops that had more then water on the floors was not her job. It was bad enough that by turning a blind eye to the stolen loot in the meat merchant's shop, she was helping the already small pirate population stay alive. She was not a carpenter nor a shipwright nor a lumberjack, she could not repair the damage done by winds and water nor did she have the ability to make someone of those professions appear out of thin air. Her job had been to assess what the damage was done, not repair it.

Aleema sighed, tilting her head up towards the sky and frowned. The day would be cheerful and bright despite the cool breeze flowing from the ocean and it appeared the weather would continue to remain nice. She had found the storms to be more soothing then the bright day before her; at least then she could tap into the flowering water  from above, no matter how little control she had on the storm itself. Now she felt vulnerable, like she had been left out in the middle of a caravan road with nothing to clothe her and no food in her stomach. Her frown only deepened when a voice snapped her back into reality.

"We've decided to question your decision not to help us repair the town," the captain said as he stopped in front of her and as she lowered her head to regard the man. He was an older man in his late forties with more scars on his face then Aleema had seen on a single person; his pale green eyes told her that he had seen more than he had scars in his lifetime. The pirate was well groomed for someone in his line of work -- all three were for that matter -- but dressed in simple clothes, he would be able to pass as a decent commoner. Had she not been told he was a pirate, the Keeper would not have known and believed him to be a veteran of the marshes.

"Have you now? And it took you all that time to come up with that?" Aleema smiled as sweetly as she could at him. The pirate clenched his teeth and bared a false smile that pushed his facial muscles to their limit. "The town can be put together again without my help. The town is extremely close to the ocean and storms pass by the coast more than they hit land here. There's nothing I can do to help you rebuild."

"Isn't that your duty to help?" He demanded, drawing an inch of his curved sword from its scabbard at his hip. Aleema sighed as she rubbed a hand over her forehead to help stave off the headache that was starting to form. These pirates were not understanding the basic concepts of a Keeper's duties, of which did not include repairing damage to towns after a storm.

"I'm doing you and the entire town a favor by not mentioning the loot that is stashed in the meat merchant’s shop to the next soldier I happen to come across. Not to mention there are half a dozen other places where there are stolen items in plain view," she responded dryly with a small gesture towards the township. "Do you not have some of the Quakerson Royal Family's jewels on display inside one of the tavern's basement? Supposedly they have been lost for two years now, and I hate to be the one to spread the word that you have them. You know, instead of the bottom of the ocean as this treasure is believed to be at currently."

When she said that, the captain's face paled and his sword fell fully back into its scabbard. Apparently he was not prepared to have someone who could keenly spot something that had been missing for some time now and knew what they looked like. He had more than a few passing thoughts of the penalty for keeping valuable items from a Royal Family without informing them, he had lost many a crew mate under such laws. How he managed to keep himself out of stocks and dungeons this long really wasn't her primary concern.

If she assumed the current Quakerson king had the same laws as Konirta’s did, then the entire village would be sent into the ocean depths. If Aleema had her way yet again that would happen, but Trent had made sure that the Keepers did not put their feelings into these types of situations too much. It would get them into more trouble than it was worth, or so he said anyways; she believed most of the words written in the tomes of the Temple’s library.

"I'll make a deal with you: I'll remain quiet about the stuff that's in your town, you repair your own homes." Aleema’s eyes flickered towards the other two captains, who were slowly inching their swords out but did not make any moves other then that. "Do we have a deal, or do I need to make the ocean wipe out your entire existence?"

The pirate's face regained some of its color when Aleema's gaze was elsewhere; when it returned to him, the corners of his mouth twitched rather nervously. There was reason to be nervous when the one being that controlled the water -- the oceans -- was standing there with a deal that couldn't be refused. The cockiness of both of them would get them in worse trouble and much more raw deals then they could imagine. They called this place home, none of the three wished to see it be cleared off the maps because they could not take a step back.

"The only way I'd agree would be when I'm dead and buried. I refuse." The pirate turned around to head towards the village. "I'll give a grace period of four days before someone will come after you."

Aleema arched an eyebrow at the hollow threat, crossing her arms over her chest as the pirate captain joined the other two. She took notice that they were glancing at each other with nervous looks despite attempting to remain rather emotionless. There was only a small look in her general direction before the three pirates retreated further into the town. She couldn't tell if the look had been directed towards her or to the ocean behind her; either way she didn't care and any threat directed to her meant nothing. There was no time to worry about the words of a pirate who was more at her whim then she was at theirs. The vastness of the ocean was great and she now controlled every drop, wave, and creature inside of it.

Sighing, she turned towards the southern winds and began to walk to the point where the land ended and ocean began. The Cyan Shore lay to the south of where she was located and one of the few spots where she could climb down and be ignored by fishermen. A woman sitting on the beach at water's edge was no trouble so long as she didn't try to swim out to sea with the jagged rocks just off shore and ran parallel to the entire land south of the Si'lara desert.

Today, however, Aleema had no intentions of swimming in water that was still churning  from the storm. She would save that for another day entirely.

4: Chapter Four

While the winds and rains of storms past had long since died away, the drums of life continued to move on. There would be more storms that lay ahead but for now the sun shone and the day would move on like it should do. When the new storms started to well up and the skies darkened again, the people of the World could only prepare for what they could prepare for and nothing more.

Past the slopping plains of the wild meadows to the west of the Realm lay cliffs that do not drop into the blue ocean but rather into ruins, graveyards, and a sparsely populated village just beyond the drop. Very few outsiders dared to step within a few miles of these cliffs, those that did dared not look down onto the land below their feet for very long. They often paid for a curious glance down below with their lives.

There would be no tales of what lay below other than a slingshot's spiked bullet to the head of the now dead person's forehead before they even knew they had been struck. The bodies of these dead folk were either thrown into the ocean or left rotting where they were, to serve as a reminder that the people living in the valley did not want to be disturbed. Here the Ca'eil dwelled and they did not take kindly to an outsider’s curious but terrified gaze.

Down below the cliffs sat the small village of the Ca'eil, scattered across the northern part of the valley. There were about twenty to twenty-five houses strung together, made of mud and bamboo stalks; these homes were large enough to house up to five Ca'eil comfortably only housed three in each at the most. Only one of these houses was unoccupied, the mud walls half crumbled away and the bamboo roof caved in; no one in the village had bothered to repair it for future use, not when it was uncertain that there would be any one to occupy it in the future. Not when the Ca'eil was uncertain about their own futures and what may become of it.

Fifteen miles to the south sat the ruins of the ancient civilization of Ca'eil, empty save for the rotting structures of old. These mud, marble, and reed creations had once stood half as high as the surrounding cliffs and that had been numerous as the Ca'eil once had been. Now there was only a quarter of these buildings left and they would soon go the way the old generations of Ca'eil had gone, slowly fading away into nothing. Of these once proud structures, two centuries worth of years, weather, and thievery reduced what had remained to almost pure rubble. Now all that was left was a faint echo of what once was and what would not be returning anytime soon.

Between these ruins and the current dwellings sat for large fields of crops, each planted two weeks before with a few sprouts now pushing out from under the soil. Tall, metallic spears jutted up from each end of these fields, large blue fish scales balanced on the painted tip of these spears and a cord hanging loosely down from the middle of each scale. The scales and spears served two purposes: to water and mark where the fields of wheat, corn, pumpkins, and grapes and as a weapon and shield in the rare case an outsider came into the valley. The spears were devoid of any humanoid blood in the years since the last battle nearly a century before and most likely would not see any more except for the blood of ravens during harvest season.

A single stairwell to the north of the Ca’eil homes stood straight against the tall cliffs and had been carved into the cliff itself many centuries prior. The stairs were well kept by the few Ca’eil that knew how to keep such things as they were, patching up the few holes that came through the wear by Ca'eil themselves and from the weather above. These stairs were the safest way out of the valley and were used whenever a death occurred in the commoner ranks; the bodies were disposed according to their deeds in life and what their age was at the time of death. What happened to the bodies after they were dumped the Ca'eil didn't care; the commoners, much like the nobles, were now in the hands of their ancestors.

Just a half of a mile away from the bottom of the stairwell sat the entrance to a cave half hidden from view by large ferns and a blueberry bush. Inside a large tunnel jutted into the cliffs and separated into three rooms, one for each of the three Ca'eil deities. Each room consisted of sparse objects made for each of the deities, a fire pit, and offerings made to honor each deity. Very few Ca'eil did not come into these caves and even fewer did not leave an offering for any of the three; although food was hard to come by during some seasons, offerings were still made.

Two forms walked down the narrow stairs, distanced apart only by a long bamboo and wood platform caked with dried blood. Both had waist-length back, course hair that was tied in knots to their boney shoulders; there were feathers at each knot, giving their hair a slightly wispy look. Their arms and legs were long and muscular, supporting a lean, thin, nearly bone-like build, their skin, at a distance, looked like tiny scales but at a closer look was smooth and pale despite years in the sun. Their eyes -- sunken in and alert -- kept darting up to the cliffs like they had expected something was behind or around them.

Their necks were short and stub-like, like most Ca’eil’s were, as this was one of the defining features that made the Ca’eil stand apart from humans. It was as though they had no neck at all, but their heads were just closer to their shoulders then most of the other species in the World. There were exceptions to this, like several of the nobles lines that had the trait where they had a normal, almost human-like neck but were thinner and more delicate. Outside of the rare few, there Ca’eil had next to no neck and less mobility to move their heads around.

The other Ca'eil within the compound did not take notice the two who returned from the desert, knowing that a commoner fisher man had died during the storm and was placed into the wild desert where vultures and sandworms would take the body safely away from prying eyes. They did this to keep the other humanoids from taking the bodies, the desert had very little in the ways of civilizations outside the few, small nomadic desert tribes.

The two Ca’eil -- after returning the bamboo plank back to the caves and muttering several prayers to their gods -- parted ways at the cave’s entrance without another word to each other. Both would do their daily preparations for their crops and battle, to ensure that they remain in seclusion in their valley. The food supply was not low, far from the warning levels it had been years before, so the Ca’eil could spare warriors and commoners to prepare for the threats on the other sides of the cliffs.

While they had no direct reason to scale the cliffs before the summer months had even begun, the preparations would see to an earlier scouting if need be. The less threats they saw with their own hallow, sunken eyes, the farther away from the valley they needed to move. The Realm was the farthest any Ca’eil was willing to go, not for fear of accidental interaction from other races but because there was little need to start battles so early in the year. Some of the Ca’eil knew that lay in that forest, those that did not venture out did not often hear of the stories related to the powers that were inside. But the Ca’eil did have their own tales that had been woven from the stories that were of the Realm and its inhabitants.

Not all Ca’eil were preparing for battles not yet fought or food in the fields, few had little else to do on a day that had not seen gracious weather like this day. One such Ca’eil stood just above where the noble graveyard sat, watching three male Ca’eil drag a large scaled fish from the ocean opening of the valley. She was one of few who appeared to be more human than Ca’eil, her body slimmer and less boney then her Ca’eil kin, her limbs less muscular and neck long; there was a thin, black scar along where her vocal cords were. She stood there watching, her eyes twitching with boredom and anxiety as the fishermen came closer.

She stood with a frown on her thin lips, leaning on a long yew quarterstaff while tugging angrily at the purple robes she wore before tugging at the thin braids of her hair. Her light red eyes stared coolly at the three fishermen, a stare that told them more than what words could not say. Two of the fishermen paid her no attention as they had always done, dragging the fish along without a step missed or a step slowed. The third, however, slowed down to almost a stop and a glare returned.

“Are you going to be at the food house, Fai’li, or does someone have to drag you there today?” The fisherman asked sourly, not waiting for an answer as he walked quickly to the others. Fai’li turned her upper body to the retreating backs, putting two fingers on the black band and purple diamond that was tattooed on her forehead. She watched the fishermen for a moment more, moving her hand down to her scarred neck before turning back towards the graves in front of her.

The graves that she watched meant nothing to her, the nobles buried in the ground a reminder of what she was not. If she had been of any other position would her fate be any different than it was? Outwardly she moved her hands and arms into silent curses, meant not only for the graves in front of her but also for the ocean as well. Inwardly, however, she wished for the time to join the other Ca’eil in the afterlife where she would have a voice to speak with again.

[Hello, Bai’jia,] Fai’li gestured with her hands as she moved her quarterstaff against one of the headstones and turned around. While she had no voice to speak with, her hearing and her hands were as good as anything. The young Ca’eil whom she knew as Bai’jia was not surprised to have been heard as he walked the last several steps to Fai’li.

Bai’jia, short for a Ca’eil his age and had almost the same body shape as the one in front of him, stood in front of her with a sigh. His deep purple eyes, pupil’s slit like a cat’s, flickered past the Ca’eil woman and towards the ocean, the fires of his youth flashing in his eyes. He stood a foot and a half shorter then Fai’li, who was taller than most Ca’eil as Bai’jia was shorter, with purple hair to his shoulders. The left side of his head had been waxed off in lines from front to back, showing his station as a noble and as the official translator for Fai’li, a station that, despite his young age, had little demands on him.

Fai’li knew that look on the young noble’s face, one that she had seen dozens of times before whenever the two of them stood this close to the ocean. If there were not hidden eyes watching him from the shadows then he would have grabbed Fai’li by the arm and taken her past the gates barring water-fairing people from entering by the shores, then along the edges of the ocean and beyond. But eyes were watching a young noble and the shaman of the Ca’eil and would watch them until they were further away from the ocean.

“Ko’uri wants you to bless the fish that was just brought in,” he said with a half-smile. Fai’li looked over his head and sighed; she could not see the food house all that clearly from where they stood, a house where meats were left to dry and was glad the ever present eyes could not hear them.

[I will do no such thing, not on that fish,] she replied with a glare in the direction the fishermen went in. [I do not like those three, even if they are nobles.]

“You’ll just have to ignore them, they don’t like anyone. Not even me, and I’m two stations above them.” Bai’jia smiled broadly, smug in his statement. If Fai’li could, she would have felt sadness in those same words; there would be nothing left for the Ca’eil child once the shaman was gone from the living. Even if he understood her gestures more than the others, he served no other purpose other than to tend to the harvest at the end of the summer months. Such was the life of a noble, unable to see the glories of battle, unable to pick up a weapon for defense, and unable to do much more than that.

[Being my voice means nothing to most of who live here, even to the Gods.] Fai’li smiled faintly. [Ko’uri could still kill you for what you just said.]

“The chief would not dare strike a noble, one of the children found out the hard way.” Bai’jia shuddered, knowing full well what would happen if there were any strikes to a Ca’eil noble. According to the tales and legends of their race, the nobles were the descendants of their Gods, children that were unable to see the words of battle themselves. Even striking one to remind a noble of words that did not need to be spoken earned the death of a commoner. “The Gods wouldn’t allow it.”

[Then I’ll pray to Zaeton and Miry for forgiveness tonight if my hands should stray.] Fai’li picked up her quarter staff, turned around, and began to walk towards the village. She still had no intentions of blessing whatever fish had been brought in from the ocean, hardly caring if it went to waste. Their Gods would not care if one fish was not blessed for consumption this day, food was only blessed to appease the nobles that wanted their ancestors old words to be remembered.

Bai’jia turned quickly, a panicked look on his face. “You wouldn’t do anything would you Fai’li? FAI’LI!”

Fai’li herself made throaty sounds, turning around to walk backwards so that she could face the young one. [I’m slated to die anyways so killing me now would save the trouble later,] was her response as the noble caught up with her.

“You still won’t take my offer will you?” He asked as Fai’li turned around. “We Ca’eil can’t swim very well and even Ko’uri knows you can’t speak without me.”

[He got along just fine before you surprised him with being able to understand my gestures fully.] She looked down at her hands, the only way she could speak to the rest of the World. The words she spoke with them consisted of what she remembered as a child; gestures meaning birds and horses from old Ca’eil stories. The rest she had converted from the Ca’eil spoken language and Bai’jia had added some of the human’s main spoken language into the gestures she used. [You surprised me with it, languages and gestures are your gift child. Running away will ruin any training you have left. Come, let’s go back to the village now.]

“The open sea would be better than here.” He looked disapprovingly at the village looming ahead of him as he followed her at her side. “Why don’t you want to leave? Neither one of us has a chance to do much more, you’ll be relieved of your station when the new shaman is done with her training. I can’t fight or go into battle because I’m a noble. I’m not about to become a farmer for the rest of my life.”

Fai’li stopped suddenly; Bai’jia took a few more steps before back tracking to face her. [Ca’eil, even those who have managed to leave this valley alive, will not be seeing the World for long. That’s how it is, a lone Ca’eil cannot draw strength from nothing.]

They stood facing each other, the noble and the shaman, each staring right back at the other. They both knew that they couldn't leave on their own, and both were restricted by their own position within the structure of the Ca'eil. Unable to do more than they were allowed to do was common musings, not only by them but by others within. Their own kin may have some troubles as well but they also knew nothing outside blood and death, the long line of destruction falling behind them. That was the way of the Ca'eil, a way that, one day, would see to the end of them if nothing changed.

[The rest of the World sees the Ca'eil for what we are: blood thirsty, battle loving savages. We could get away with passing as humans for a while, as we are of the few that aren't born with short necks, but eventually they will know.] Fai’li then gestured between the two of them. [Even if some of us leave with the intentions of never singing to Miry or Zaeton again, or taking up a spear or sling shot for war, the World still sees us as Ca'eil. It's in our blood.]

"Isn't there a place in the World where no one knows what a Ca'eil is?" Bai'jia asked, taking a glance behind him to the ocean. Fai'li smiled a genuine smile at the innocent question asked, one she had always much younger than this one ask but never heard it repeated from the same child.

[Probably overseas to the west but that is unknown lands to us, as no Ca'eil has returned alive from a sea-going vessel with humans. No pirate would take a Ca'eil that far without a dagger to the heart.] She purposely left that statement open-ended, for both pirate and Ca'eil would've stabbed each other before a ship even left port. [When my last days are here I'll let you know then. Until my last moments I am content on staying where I can't see the ugly humans.]

Bai'jia watched her with a frown as she moved forwards; soon he walked right behind her without another word. They walked in silence, his movements a bit unsteady as Fai'li's own slowed as they neared the blessing and storage house where fishermen kept their daily catches. Fai'li grasped her staff a little bit harder then she normally did and her eyes moved into narrow slits; now she could not just walk by the house without notice and she had a hunch that this was the work of the fishermen.

Leaning against the wall near the entrance of the storage house was a single male Ca'eil that stood just a few inches taller than the shaman did and he had the stunted neck known to the Ca'eil race. His yellow eyes, sparkled with several speaks of white, stared coldly at the shaman as though he was daring her to walk on by without entering. His long nailed fingers tapped on his black and silver scaled armor, his long black hair tied in three different length braids. He wore the green and blue D’vail necklace, a cherry blossom flower in the middle of a triangle, around the upper left arm; it was supposed to be around his neck instead.

It was the symbol of a Ca’eil chief, the one who was supposed to lead the Ca’eil into high glory. D’vail meant ‘power to the leader’ in the Ca’eil language; it was only supposed to be worn during battles outside the valley. Why he was wearing it like that or at all they didn’t know, there had been no battles that day nor had Fai’li blessed it yet. It was a bad sign if it was worn any other time, even worse if it wasn’t around his neck; that was more of a sign of disrespect then a bad omen. No one in the valley needed to know who he was or his station within their clan, every Ca’eil inside the valley knew exactly who he was.

He smiled widely at the approaching pair, his pointed teeth bared fully; Fai'li would've snarled at him if she had the physical ability to do more than a choking, frog-like grunt. She didn't even find him that attractive by Ca'eil standards, how anyone could she couldn't understand. Perhaps her method of death would be to fight this one that would be her dying wish even though she would be heavily drugged if she did. It wasn't a common practice for a Ca'eil shaman to fight another one before their death, yet it was not a rare request. It was also still not a common thing for a shaman to choose her own death either, but she would have the poisonous drug that would kill her while she did battle anyways. Perhaps that would satisfy her in the life beyond this one.

"Morning Ko'uri," Bai'jia said, Fai'li ignoring him completely as she entered the house quietly. Both Ko'uri and Bai'jia stayed outside as no one was allowed inside while the shaman was there, 'blessing' the meal. This also gave Fai'li the chance to gesture to Ko'uri secretly with curses meant for war prey; Miry would forgive her yet again for these curses, she probably would be laughing at them if she had a physical form in the World.

"She doesn't like me, does she?" Ko'uri asked, moving a hand along his armor. There was no need to wear it during times of non-battle but since the scaled and metal armor had just been finished before the sun had risen, he had worn it just to show it off. Bai'jia thought it made him look like a fool but he dared not say anything out loud, noble or not.

"What makes you think that?" He asked, praying that Fai'li would come out soon and end her prayers early. He didn’t feel comfortable standing this close to the Ca'eil chief.

"Just by looking at her when she walked by." Ko'uri’s smile didn't waver. "It's a shame she has the role of the shaman to play, she'd make a fine mate."

"Shame," Bai'jia mumbled back. Ko'uri either missed the noble's sarcasm, or ignored it; either way he looked down at the younger Ca'eil with those cold, distant, yellow eyes. It wasn't hard to do, he was nearly two feet taller than Bai'jia and only a few inches taller than Fai'li, their height was like their places in the Ca’eil culture.

Although Ko'uri was the head chief of the Ca'eil and had the last say in almost all decisions made, he still was considered beneath the young one in front of him. Bai'jia knew this, all nobles did, yet he still had to bow his head for orders when they applied to him; Ko'uri's eyes were telling him to leave. He stayed anyways, mainly for the shaman's sake and because Ko'uri hadn't given an actual verbal command to do anything else but stand there.

"Why are you here, Ko'uri?" He asked, then gestured to the surrounding area. "Aren't there other duties you have?"

"As do you." The chief's eyes flickered elsewhere for a few seconds. While he was chief and his word was final, he could not answer all of Bai'jia's questions. It was a complicated system, one that only a few outsiders could fully understand. "There was some talk that Fai'li wasn't going to bless another catch of fish again. I'm here to make sure she does."

"That was a one-time thing," Bai'jia pointed out.  As far as you know it was, he added to himself, trying not to smile. “Has she stayed true to her duties since?”

Ko'uri chose not to answer that question, standing up straight as Fai'li exited the hut. Her and Ko'uri's eyes met and locked onto each other’s; if their eyes could battle they would've been evenly matched. She purposely kept her eyes void of the hatred she had for Ko'uri, while Ko'uri's eyes held a twinge of lust in his eyes. Bai'jia tugged on the shaman's robe to tell her it was time to go, had Ko'uri not spoken before they could wander back to the shaman's place by the graves.

"You blessed the fish anyways," Ko'uri stated coldly as the two turned to stare at him. "Why?"

[I wouldn't have if you weren't standing here already. I would have left,] Fai'li gestured, looking down at the noble beside her to translate her gestures into words.

"'I had a change of mind plus I did not wish to repeat what happened before'," Bai'jia wrongfully translated, earning him a glare from Fai'li. Ko’uri, hopefully, did not remember some of the simple gestures used by the shaman.

"I'm glad that you did, Fai'li. The fish would've gone to waste if you hadn't." He smiled scornfully at the pair. "You wouldn't have let that happen again, now would you?"

Fai’li’s laughter was like a choking toad's croaking: course, scratchy, and didn’t properly convey the type of innocence she wanted. [Sure I wouldn't have, I haven't done it in six weeks now. I'd let everyone starve if they knew.]

"'No I wouldn't, it would've been a terrible waste of food." And like you would know how little she’s done in blessings recently, Bai’jia silently said to himself, still ignoring the steady glare from Fai’li.

"It's a pity we have to kill you, you are one of the better shaman's despite a few unraveling moments." He suddenly seemed very interested in his armor. "While the one to replace you isn't ready yet, it could be any day that we decide to put that one in your spot. I suggest if you have a parting wish that you make it soon, I would hate to see you not get a wish."

[I'm sure that you don't really think that, Ko'uri.] Fai'li's gesturing were a little off, as she leaned on her quarterstaff for support. Even though she had been doing blessings like this for years, it still took a decent amount of energy to call upon their gods for a blessing. [Not that I care, I'll welcome my death when it comes.]

"'Thank you, Ko'uri. I don't wish to die but I'll welcome it anyways.” That was the closest Bai'jia came to translating that didn't earn a glare. Ko'uri laughed at the words regardless.

"Spoken like a true Ca'eil." He pushed his thin lips together in a faint shadow of a smile. "If the gods hadn't put the two of you into your positions I would have you both was warriors."

[Just so you could have us killed on the battlefield to make it appear like we died heroically.] She bared her teeth in a vain attempt to smile. [I wouldn't be surprised you'd do it now.]

"'Thank you, your words mean a lot to us.'" Bai'jia bowed his head as Ko'uri laughed again. Clamping a hand down on the noble's shoulder and casting a quick look towards Fai'li, he walked in the direction of the chief’s housing. Fai'li gurgled in an attempt to make a hissing sound, Bai'jia turning around to make sure she was okay. "Fai'li you were lucky Ko'uri wasn't paying attention to you that much."

[He barely understood me before, why should I be worried now?] She smiled lightly as she began to wander away from the food house. [If I didn't need your skills I would have killed you regardless of your noble status.]

Bai'jia stared at her, laughing nervously in the direction Ko'uri was going. He didn't even look back at the two, he didn't even seem to take notice that he was being watched. Bai'jia walked backwards several steps before turning around and walking in step with Fai'li.

"I was only trying not to get you killed faster than you already are slated to." He glanced up at her set face. "Ko'uri would have it done faster than you could blink, he doesn't need a reason to kill you."

[He would get away with it, too.] She did not smile, did not meet the noble's gaze. She stopped when she was sure that Ko'uri was not able to see her wild gesturing nor hear Bai'jia's words. [And you whipped before the other leaders could do anything about it or have learned that he had it done. Funny thing is Ko'uri doesn't care as long as he can get away with it. You should know this by now.]

"The only good thing about being a noble is that no one can physically or mentally harm us." Bai'jia put emphasis on 'no one' to prove his point, yet even he was beginning to find that hard to believe. Fai'li smiled at his fading innocence, perhaps one day he would see the rest of the World for what it truly was.

[Should I pray that it would never happen to you in this lifetime?] Turning halfway around she looked in the direction they had come then in the direction of the cold ocean. [Bai'jia, don't get any more comfortable ideas that a noble's life will always be as it is now. You may find yourself out in the fields of battle before my body is thrown into the desert. Hope that it doesn't happen to you.]

The shaman nodded her head as a final few words to him, then began to walk back to where the noble graves were by herself. It saddened her to think that her young friend would not be buried there while Ko'uri was still chief, nor would he be tolerated as a noble for much longer. There were changes in the air, she could feel them coming, and Fai'li knew she would see some of those changes before she died. If her final wish was granted then maybe she could take Ko'uri with her into the realms beyond the living. That was her wish, one that may not even be granted as long as this chief was still in power.

Bai'jia watched as Fai'li walked way, unsure if he wanted to follow her to the graves or not. He cared for her as a friend, something few Ca'eil would ever admit, and he knew her time was almost up. The life of a shaman sometimes depended solely on the reigning chief no matter how well they performed the role of shaman itself. That much he had learned through patches of noble talking. Ko'uri wouldn't have her around for much longer, even if half of the Ca'eil wanted changes to happen, he thought bitterly as he turned around and begun to walk back to his home. It's his changes that would take hold, not everyone else's.

He didn't know how right his thoughts were.

XXXX

Ko’uri’s vision was blurred; he could barely see a few feet in front of him as he stalked further away from the shaman and the young noble. A few heads bowed down to him when he went past many of the Ca'eil, but as soon as his back was turned they glared at him as he left them. A few bonfires were beginning to be set up by the Ca'eil noble children, bonfires that Ko'uri himself had no understanding of and would not bother to ask what they were doing -- they, too, glared up at him as he stalked past. Even if he had seen those glares he wouldn't have cared -- if he had the choice he would wipe the entire civilization away and start elsewhere.

It would start with Fai'li. He was telling the truth when he said that she was in an unfortunate position: she being the shaman, she wasn't capable of bearing children and even when she was still in training she wasn't allowed to. If she had been in any other position then Ko'uri would've taken advantage of the situation and had heirs produced by her. Not until she did would he have killed her, disposed her body like Fai'li never existed. The only thing he looked forwards to was her eventual death and that prompted a rare smile from him that he didn't have to bare his full teeth for.

A few roaming Ca'eil children ran past him, causing him to suddenly stop walking. He glared at them as they ran away, not even bothering to see who they ran into. His glare at their backs didn't even slow them down nor did his words even enter their minds as they ran further away; he fingered the talisman and growled before he continued on. His compound was further away from the rest of the Ca'eil, to keep him separate from everyone else. It was a statue for him more than anything else, he didn't need to worry about anyone bothering him more than they already did.

"Ko'uri," a firm voice stopped him from heading direct to the western end of the valley where few Ca'eil lived. He stopped and hesitated in turning around, sighing irritably as he waited for the Ca'eil behind the voice to appear by his side. An aged Ca'eil came to the chief’s left side, also looking in the western direction but had his body turned towards Ko'uri.

He stood slightly taller than Ko'uri, almost to Fai'li's height, but he had been much taller in his youth then he was now. The curve in his spine he stood with had been caused by the breaking of his shoulders at the height of his warrior years, permanently scarring him from ever returning; it was a shame, even with this old injury Ko'uri saw how valuable he was as a warrior. This was the only scar known and had grown worse with time, at least he was able to train someone. A single, long, golden top knot was the only hair he had on his head, one of the few symbols he had as a trainer of shaman-to-be. Another was being the only one among the Ca'eil allowed to wear human-made clothing.

Of which he wore at the moment while now facing Ko'uri fully; the cotton fibers of his black shirt and pants scratched at his aged skin. The frown he had outwardly didn't reflect his uncomfortable nature of this clothing; he could very easily stand the rubbing against his skin and the material being human-made. He was waiting for Ko'uri to acknowledge him by sight or sound, so that he could speak further; he didn't have to, but he much rather have the leader wait then be rushed. It was private satisfaction seeing Ko’uri sigh irritably again then look in the direction of the elder Ca'eil with a scowl.

"What is it, Xitay?" He growled. "Shouldn't you be training Fai'li's replacement?"

"I should but there's a minor setback." Xitay waited for a moment to let Ko'uri's glare become more passive before he continued. "We need to replace the shaman-in-training or push back certain aspects of the training."

"Setback? There shouldn't be any problems or setbacks, there were too many with Fai'li's training," Ko'uri snapped. Xitay winced, knowing full well how the current shaman's training had gone; it was part of the reason why she could not physically speak. "Whatever problems or setbacks there are, take care of it yourself. It can't be that bad."

"She's pregnant." Xitay waited for that small piece of information to sink in before he said anything else. Had this bit of information been at any other time during the shaman-in-training's training, he would not have mentioned it at all to the chief. There had been two other cases of female shaman-in-training becoming pregnant before their reproductive organs had been taken out and no one had known the difference, but it was too close for his comfort this time.

"What did you say?" Ko'uri took several steps towards Xitay. The words sunk in alright; Ko'uri felt his heart begin to race and his eyes narrowed. "I don't think I heard you right. Did you say the next shaman is pregnant?"

"Yes, I did." Xitay matched his leader's stare evenly and did not flinch at the bared teeth. Ko'uri knew he wouldn't be able to intimidate this one, he would have to settle in doing something else entirely to startle the older Ca'eil. "Everything will need to be postponed for a while, she can't very well --"

"Why didn't you catch this sooner?" He was beginning to see the world spin around him; after it stopped he had no control over his actions. When it stopped not even he knew what would happen. "Get everything else done that needs to be done, there will be no delay."

"No." Xitay bared his own teeth in a much wider smile. "Normally I would do as you order in this situation, however I am not. I've already prepared a way out of this, very few will ever know."

There was a dark haze that suddenly replaced the spinning of Ko'uri's vision. He was a bit calmer as he considered the problem in front of him and if Xitay was telling him the truth or not. Had this happened years earlier when the shaman-in-training hadn't nearly completed her training he would've had her killed and made it look like it had been an accident of her training. As shaman, any male or female Ca'eil were forbidden to reproduce and there were ways to make them sterile during their training if it happened early enough.

If there were offspring then those children would be guaranteed to take their respected parent's place as next in line. That would break the tradition of choosing a shaman at random, instead of having a single line -- a single family -- be considered for the position. That tradition had not been undone in the generations this clan of Ca’eil had survived and Ko’uri was not about to let that happen.

If no one knew but himself and Xitay, if he could silence any other voices, then no one would be any the wiser. He did not wish to go down the path he had intended Xitay to take, not with the Ca'eil as few as it was, and there were few traditions he was willing to keep. He did not dare upset anyone in the valley, especially Xitay; the elder Ca'eil may have been a warrior many decades ago but he was the one who trained the shaman. That gave him more of a higher position closer to the nobles then it did a leader.

His vision cleared from the haze and Ko'uri felt in control; the off center smile he bared made Xitay more uncomfortable then he already was. It was of no matter what Xitay planned on doing, as leader Ko'uri had more power than the shaman trainer did despite the position he held and could override all plans if need be. Xitay's life depended on if he would conform to the new ideas; first, however, Ko'uri would allow him to believe his plans were still valid -- whatever they were. Ko'uri had no need to ask, he'd know in due time.

"Xitay, I put trust in your ways." Ko'uri put a hand to his forehead then proceeded to put the same hand on Xitay's forehead. That told Xitay that he had full reign over the situation and he could not be bothered about it. He did the same to Ko'uri, accepting the responsibility; however he had little trouble not believing that Ko'uri would not turn this around. The less the Ca'eil leader knew, the easier the transition would go.

There were no other words or actions between the two, Xitay bowing his head and walking away in the direction of the training grounds. He knew he would be watched for a while until this  was all over yet he would keep himself -- and the shaman-in-training -- out of Ko'uri's vision. There were so many things the leader didn't know about that gave Xitay little to worry about.

Ko'uri hissed at the retreating Xitay. There was too much the aged Ca'eil had left out that Ko'uri now could not take back what had just been done. It was too unfortunate that there were witnesses to their conversation, yet he had ways around traditions and words. If Xitay believed he could hide things from his leader in this confining valley, he was wrong. Ko'uri would know and would not hesitate to act, tradition or not.

He smiled inwardly as he, too, continued on his way. How things would change.