Chapter Twelve

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“I don’t know, Shann,” Lyall mused. “I think that if I had to make up a story to deceive someone, I could come up with a hundred better ones than that one. The fact that it is so fantastic makes it more believable, in a way. And there are other things. That machine, for example.

“I don’t know much about machines, but Alondo does. He’s a virtual genius when it comes to mechanics. If he says it is something unique, then I believe him. Finally, there’s the presence of the Chandara.”

“It might be lying.” Shann protested. “She could have influenced it somehow.”

Lyall looked at her askance. “Shann, I don’t think you really believe that.”

She felt as if the sands were shifting beneath her. “…All right, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean what it says is right, either.”

Lyall glanced over at Boxx. It was lying with its head resting on the sand, as if patiently waiting for the debate concerning it to end. “Chandara are odd creatures,” he began, “but I have never heard of one of them leaving their forest, let alone attaching themselves to a Kelanni. People say that they are primitive and dull-witted but I believe that they simply have thought patterns that are different than ours. One thing I am fairly convinced of ,though, after a single conversation with one of them, is that there is no way you could persuade it to lie for you, or even get it to do something it did not want to do.

There was a silence as Lyall’s words sunk in. Finally, it was broken by Lyall himself. “If the warning from the past is genuine, then we cannot ignore it. If it is some sort of deception, then that fact will become clear over time. I suggest that for the moment we should remain watchful. Are we all agreed?”

Alondo and Shann both nodded. Lyall put a hand on each of their shoulders, in silent symbol of unity. After a moment of reflection, he released them, and they resumed their journey in contemplative silence. Shann felt calmer. She felt as if she had the old Lyall back, the man she had come to trust. And the bond the three of them had forged together had been reaffirmed and strengthened. Yet despite all of Lyall’s good and fine arguments, there was still something about the Keltar she did not trust.

I will be watching you.

~

“As soon as we are judged to be safe, I would like to conduct hariath-sharana.

Keris looked at Lyall in disbelief. “Who for?”

“For those that died at the compound.”

“You’re joking,” she accused.

“Not at all.”

Keris was tall, but the sandy haired man still had half a head on her. He was dressed in a light loose fitting desert coverall. Keris still wore her cloak, dark tunic and dark breeches, the garb of a Keltar.

She had alighted on the road surface behind the party and announced that there was no evidence of their being trailed. Even as she delivered the news, she sensed that there was a different air about the three of them. The young girl was still quiet, but her air of open hostility seemed to have dissipated. The musician with the odd hat seemed to have a twinkle in his eye and the tall man seemed to have grown in stature. But it was more than that. They seemed to share an unspoken unity which expressed itself in the form of half glances and surreptitious gestures, as if they were part of a cabal from which she was excluded.

They were an odd group, to be sure. The fair man seemed to have had some training as Keltar. That at least made him partially useful. However, the other two appeared to serve no purpose whatsoever, so why he had selected them as confederates was a genuine mystery. The girl had been a kitchen hand before she had embroiled herself in this business. She was probably quite handy with a bread knife, but Keris didn’t give much for her chances if the Prophet’s men caught up to them. She had managed to escape from the compound all on her own, in spite of the increased security, which suggested that she might be more resourceful than she looked. Keris hoped so.

As for the musician–well she could only hope that he would have the sense to run and hide when the time came.

An odd group indeed. A view that seemed only confirmed, when Lyall suddenly suggested the memorial gathering.

“Did you know any of the people in the guardhouse?” She enquired.

“No.”

“Then why–?”

“Because we are Kelanni, and those who died were Kelanni.” He paused. “We must not forget who and what we are. If we do, then the Prophet will have destroyed us without the need for a device.”

“Are you going to do this every time?”

“How do you mean?”

“Every time someone dies in this conflict. Are you going to conduct hariath-sharana for them all?”

“I do not intend for anyone else to die.”

Keris was flummoxed for a moment. The man seemed to have lost his grip on reality. “Look,” she began. “This is war. There are probably going to be a lot more deaths before we are finished.”

Lyall had a look of quiet determination. “I am not at war with my own people. There is only one person who is responsible for all of this. If we stop him, then the oppression will end.”

Keris laughed without mirth. “You’re really not very good at this, are you? Being a revolutionary.”

Lyall looked as if he were remembering an event long past. He gave a thin smile. “Perhaps not. But the greatest battle we have to fight is for hearts and minds, Keris. That is a battle we dare not lose.”

~

Lyall, Alondo and Shann stood with hands linked in a circle, while Keris watched from a distance. She could hear them speaking the memorial in low tones. Boxx stood next to her on its haunches. It seemed intensely interested in the strange ceremony.

It turned its round head to look up at her. “What Is The Purpose?”

Keris’ gaze was fixed on the three. “They are remembering those who died at the compound.”

“They Are Healing.”

“In a way…I suppose.”

“You Are Kelanni.” Keris did not turn or answer. Boxx persisted. “You Are Kelanni. Those Are Kelanni. Kelanni Should Join. Help One Another. It Is The Key.”

“You don’t understand,” she murmured, still looking straight ahead. “I can’t.”

“Why?” it asked.

Keris was feeling an unsettling mix of emotions: sadness, worry, guilt most of all. The last thing she felt like doing was having a conversation with the enigmatic creature. She could see out of the corner of her eye that it was looking at her expectantly.

Broken limbs…contorted faces…the stain of white blood. “I killed them,” she confessed. “The people they are mourning; I am responsible for their deaths.”

Boxx rocked itself from side to side, although she had no idea what that meant. Finally it spoke. “Keris Did This To Save Those?”

“I suppose so.” Her eyes were starting to water involuntarily. She wiped them with her palm, angry at her own weakness.

“Saving Those Has Injured You,” Boxx piped shrilly. “So… You Need To Heal Most Of All.”

Keris tried to push the thought away, but it welled up, forcing thorough the defensive barriers she had carefully constructed. The only person you can truly rely on is yourself. Suddenly, it was as if a dam had burst inside her. She felt herself walking forward. As she reached the others, Lyall and Alondo opened up to admit her and she joined the circle, taking each of their hands. Shann gave her an odd look, but said nothing.

As the four of them stood in silent meditation, a lone pink flower bloomed in the sandy soil nearby. It was a sentinel, announcing that they were nearing the end of the Southern Desert and approaching the Eastern Plains at long last, passing over from death to life.

Lodestone Book One: The Sea of StormsOù les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant