LAENINGAR

Why did I say that?

Allain still had his hand outstretched in the direction Sheyir had run. The branches and leaves still swayed from her passage, but she was gone. He slowly curled his fingers inward and lowered his arm. 

I just came here to escape. To regroup. Didn’t I?

But his words to Sheyir still hung in the air, revealing a deeper motive that he himself wasn’t aware of until the moment it took the form of words.

I’ve come a long way to see you.

Allain lowered his gaze to the ground beside him while he searched his memory for confirmation or denial of what he’d just spoken. Laeningar had become a place of refuge for him in recent times. In the Golden Kingdom, there was a sharp contrast between it and the territory of the Evil One. Even among the luminescent terrain of his own territory, the Valley of Healing stood out as a special place. It had drawn his attention at first sight, but what succeeded in capturing his fascination was the realization that it had all been created by a human woman. Never before had such a thing occurred. Humans, as a species, hadn’t yet learned the art of song. But it was there waiting for them, because it pleased the Holy One to create such things, even ideas, for humans to discover. And the humans were His most cherished creation.

When Allain had first seen her, he knew why. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever encountered. Her tiny frame—half the size of Allain’s—appeared as an intricate tapestry of sparkling, multicolored threads, shifting from one family of hues to another with each emotion. Over the years, he watched her grow from a child into a woman. She always had songs in her heart, even before she could speak. And when she discovered them, and gave them voice, she sang as though she were a gifted Shaper who had been taught the deepest knowledge of Songs from the Holy One. Without knowing what she was doing, she created healing, and established peace. But Allain knew what she was doing. He could see it. He could see the effect of her melodies, how they drifted to the ground and took root. In this place where he now stood, he could still hear the lingering songs from years past, blending with the harmonies that she had sung only days before. In his spirit, Allain could feel the way her songs calmed the storms of his troubled mind.

I didn’t come here to escape the demons. I didn’t even come to think about my next course of action. It was instinct. I didn’t want to die because there’s still something worth living for.

And it wasn’t the Valley of Healing that still held worth in his eyes; it was the one who had created it, the one who sang it into existence.

I love her, he admitted to himself.

I’ve always loved her.

But could he be with Sheyir? Could he live in her world, as a human? Was he ready to do what was forbidden? Was he ready to risk ruining what was perfect in his mind? Would she love him in return? Or would this last beautiful idea die like everything else in his life?

~

The stream flowing from Laeningar wound through wide grasslands and dense forests. Mist rose from the earth, clinging heavily to the thick vegetation where the air was still. In other places, where a slight breeze had cleared away the moisture, bright sunlight came down in great, silver columns, warming the earth. Surrounded by the buzzing of insects and a seemingly infinite variety of chirps and whistles from brightly-colored birds, Allain waded through the shallows of the stream. He was in no hurry. Once he’d come to understand his true motivation for entering the Teres Kingdom, and had made peace with it, he found himself thoroughly enjoying his new home. The feel of the cool water between his toes. The alternating stone and sand terrain beneath his feet. The way each step brought swirling plumes of silt off the bottom, to be swept downstream by the mild current.

The Teres Kingdom shared many similarities with the Eternal, though the differences were fascinating. Colors were duller, but shapes seemed more defined. Sounds didn’t linger into eternity, but were more crisp and vibrant. Allain inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers that bloomed everywhere, smiling at the lack of subtlety. Existence, it seemed, was more real in this place, perhaps intensified by the loss of immortality.

And to think, all of creation was once a combination of both attributes.

When his thoughts returned to Sheyir, he shook his head at his own stupidity. He hadn’t ever planned on revealing himself to her in bodily form, but now that he had, he regretted the way it happened. The form he’d maintained during his recent age as a soldier was nothing like any person or animal she would ever have come in contact with. In the blindness of the moment, he came into her Kingdom and took on the nearest Teres equivalent to an Iryllur. Only when he saw the terror on her face did he realize his mistake. And then she ran.

So, what do I do now? She seemed less afraid after I shaped into a human, but she still left.

Allain thought about her tribe and what he’d observed over the years. Even though he had watched her almost exclusively, he had unconsciously gathered other information along the way, including learning her language.

As he went back through his memory, he saw something hidden beneath her reaction to his human form, something he’d missed until just this moment.

A hint of intrigue mingled with her uncertainty?

Among the Chatsiyram, women were responsible for gathering and preparing food, tending to the men, and performing nearly every physical task required to maintain the village, with the exception of building shelters. They weren’t physically abused, but they were ignored and disproportionately burdened. When the work for the day was finished, most of the women tended to gather together to share stories, eat, and talk about other women. Sometimes, when they talked about each other’s husbands, the conversation turned ugly. The women could be just as unfriendly as the men of the tribe. This was why Sheyir spent most of her free time alone.

And then, after years of isolating yourself from women—ignored by men, never pursued or even engaged in conversation—a man tells you that he’s come a long way to see you. Yes. She’s intrigued. She must be!

Seeing now the mixture of emotions in her reaction, a strategy began to form in Allain’s mind—one that occupied his thoughts for the remainder of his journey.

~

Rounding a bend, the stream widened into a shallow pool with a sandy bottom. Several small children waded in the water. Some were splashing. Others were poking sticks into the sand and watching the silt billow toward the surface.

“Hello, children.”

The small, dark faces looked up. The girls stood motionless with curiosity. The boys instantly smiled and began to make their way over.

Allain kept moving slowly forward. “Are you playing a game?”

“Why do you look strange?” one of the boys asked, without a hint of embarrassment.

Allain smiled. Even wearing a human form, his pale features still marked him as a stranger. “Everyone in my tribe looks like me. But my tribe is very far away.”

“You’re tall,” one boy observed.

Another boy came close and touched Allain’s arm, as if checking to see that he was real.

“Can I play your game too?” he asked the children.

“No,” an older girl answered quickly.

“Yes, you can play with us,” a boy corrected.

“Thank you. And what are you playing?”

The girl answered again. “The boys are looking for fish.”

“And you are splashing?” Allain asked.

“No,” the girl corrected. “We are trying to catch the fish when they find one.”

“Oh, I see,” Allain replied.

One of the boys put a stick onto Allain’s hand and pushed his fingers closed.

“No, he doesn’t want to look for fish,” the girl corrected.

Allain looked down at the boy whose eyes seemed a bit larger than before. “What if I was the fish?” he said, suddenly sitting down in the water.

All the children laughed, even the oldest girl.

Allain laughed too, knowing he must look ridiculous to them. He could see the excitement in their faces and knew that none of them had ever played with an adult. Adults didn’t play with children in the Chatsiyr tribe, and the little ones learned quickly to keep to themselves if they wanted to have any fun.

At the most, they might have a caretaker watching them.

As soon as the thought came to him, Allain began to scan the nearby trees. It took only a moment to locate a terror-stricken female face, peering at him through the leaves. And then the face was gone.

Allain stood up. “Do your parents live nearby?”

The oldest girl nodded.

“Can you take me to see them?”

The boy who had put the stick in Allain’s hand now grabbed two of his fingers and began to pull him toward the shore. He looked up at Allain and squinted in bright sunlight reflecting from the water. “Can we play after you talk to them?”

Allain smiled again. “I would like that very much.” Though I doubt I’ll get the opportunity.

The children led him away from the stream and into the trees, seeming to follow a memorized path, though none of the vegetation was worn away or gave any indication of regular travel. Minutes later, the grass gave way to bare soil and a village appeared almost out of nowhere. Several large grass huts were nestled between the trees, roughly arranged around what appeared to be a central meeting area. The huts had thatch roofs, but no walls, and were supported by thick wooden poles set into the ground. A ring of stones lay at the center of the meeting area, seating for the men of the tribe during the evening meal.

Several adult women could be seen in the distance, but Allain’s attention was immediately drawn to a commotion on his right. The woman who’d seen him by the stream was now talking to a man and pointing in his direction. Within seconds, two more males appeared, each carrying a khafar—a crude digging instrument that could function as a short spear in times of necessity.

“Children,” he said, letting go of the boy’s hand. “I think this is as far as I should go. Thank you for playing with me. I had fun.”

The children looked across the meeting area at the approaching men and instinctively backed away.

Allain held his hands out to either side and waited, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

“Shulek! Shulek!” one young man shouted, approaching at a brisk pace. He looked much like a male version of Sheyir, with short, black hair and earthen skin. His thin frame was covered at the waist with a dull, brown loincloth. His eyes had the intense look of a frightened animal, as he commanded Allain to be gone.

“I mean you no harm,” Allain offered.

“You are not welcome here. Shulek!” said another, louder than the first. Three young men now stood in front of Allain, khafars held at their sides.

Allain noted that they weren’t yet holding their building implements in a two-handed grip, indicating that, although they were wary, the situation hadn’t yet escalated to the point of violence. The Chatsiyram were a peaceful people by upbringing, abhorring aggression in every circumstance except defense of their homes or families. The short spears were actually little more than arm-length sticks with a flattened spade end for digging. They looked much more innocent than the weapons Allain usually faced, but he kept an eye on them anyway.

“Why have you come?” they persisted.

Allain looked past them, scanning the gathering crowd for Sheyir’s face, but he didn’t see her. Neither did he see her father. “I’ve come on a journey from far away.”

One of the men grabbed his spear with both hands and tightened his grip.

There aren’t enough of them. This isn’t going to work. It needs to be bigger.

Seeing his strategy beginning to disintegrate, Allain took a step backward, still keeping his hands out and visible.

“You are not welcome here!” one of the men repeated.

Allain nodded and continued to step backward. When the men lowered their weapons, he turned his back to them and walked away.