Rift in the Sky

Not Om’ray, not M’hiray, to linger by an empty husk, to lay her cheek against cold flesh, her hair still over her face. Was it something a Human might do, being unable to sense the disappearance of self?

Another unaskable question.

Aryl. Her mother’s mindvoice. Her presence. Waiting.

Questions. Questions. Lacking bells, she picked one. Why is his loss the hardest?

Because it is. Grief adds to grief, Daughter, like the weight of vines on a rastis. His is not one loss. It’s every one. Your father and brother. The Yena UnChosen. Seru’s father. The Tuana. Myris and Ael. It’s every grief you’ve known. It’s every grief you know will come.

Not every rastis endured. Yena knew it. Add any weakness, be it damage from crawlers or rot, to the weight of vines? A canopy giant would bend to the M’hir Wind . . . and fall. Killing everything that lived within its fronds.

A warning to heed, for the life inside her, for the mind Joined to hers, for everyone she cared about. Aryl found herself sitting up. I am not weak. To herself as much as Taisal.

You never will be. Which is why we depend on you, Daughter. A burst of warmth, quickly replaced by urgency. Are you ready? It’s almost time.

Aryl rose to her feet. “Yes.”

She turned from the Human’s husk and walked outside.

And found Naryn.

She stood alone, half shadowed by the wall of crates. Her hands were at her sides. Her hair, free of any restraint, had confined itself in a coil around her neck. Red, like blood.

Naryn, here’s Aryl! She can help! Beneath Anaj’s mindvoice surged desperation. Aryl, something’s wrong.

Aryl couldn’t move. She didn’t dare. Rage choked her. Blinded her. Naryn had betrayed Marcus.

Hadn’t they all?

Those who’d come in their starship to kill and destroy. Those who’d taken his trust and tried to steal his life’s work. His friends. Who hadn’t failed him?

Aryl. LISTEN! You have to help Naryn.

Who didn’t move. Perhaps didn’t dare. The edge was that close, Aryl thought with her own desperation. If either of them moved, there’d be no stopping—

FOOL! Harsh, with all the Power and fury of a full Adept. Aryl gasped at the impact, her thoughts scattered. The Human was no victim, not in this. It was his will to be scanned. He told Enris you were wrong. Insisted it be done for the good of the M’hiray. For your good.

“He was out of his mind!” Aryl couldn’t take her fingers from her longknife. “He was dying!”

Naryn had to hear, but there was no change in her face, cut in half by light. Her visible eye gazed into the distance, glittered blue with the lake’s reflection. It was as if Aryl wasn’t there at all.

Dying, he made more sense than the entire Council. Don’t waste his courage.

“Why are you here?” She’d begged Enris to take Naryn away, to keep her away.

Because we need you! Naryn’s trapped in the Human’s memories. You have to help. It’s your fault, Aryl di Sarc. You pulled them apart. What were you thinking?

“I wanted to kill you.”

And almost killed your Chosen, Anaj chided. What good would that have done, I ask? Bad as a Xrona, hands first and head second, if you use heads at all. Help Naryn out of this tangle. Or will you waste what Marcus Bowman suffered to give us?

Stung, Aryl opened her mouth to protest, then abruptly closed it.

She knew better than anyone the Human’s ability to persuade others, to convince them the very world wasn’t what they believed. She knew his courage.

Enris and Naryn would have worried not only about harm to Marcus, but about her reaction.

Which, she flushed, came close to as thoughtlessly violent as the Old Adept said.

I am a fool, Anaj.

Yes. But apologize later, with an undercurrent of fear Aryl couldn’t ignore. Whatever held Naryn in this state, it was beyond the Old Adept’s ability.