Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Anise #9 (There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.), Aurora #19 (Witching hour), Milk Bottle #16 (Tractor pull)
Styles/Supplies: Eraser, Seed Beads, Frame
Word Count: 1,511
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Ava and the Araithus talk.
Notes: Part three. Part one, Part two. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.


The temple, despite its stone grandeur on the outside, was not as impressive on the inside. Ava had never personally seen the inside of a temple or palace, but she had her parents’ tales of such, and she had expected a wide, bright hall, ceiling towering far overhead, perhaps crowds of salkiys and the loud din of a center of population.

But the Araithus did not take her through the main entrance, but rather a smaller one next to it, and the room she was led into was small and cramped, the ceiling only a hand’s span above her own head; a good size for a salkiy or a short woman, but most human men would have had to duck, she supposed. She also supposed not that many human men had the opportunity to come inside in the first place.

“Come,” said the Araithus, leading her to a doorway covered with a leather flap. She pushed it aside to reveal what looked like living quarters, a silent fireplace in one corner and a sleeping mat in the other. A wooden table decorated with strings of flowers sat in the middle of the room, stacked with a number of books, and it was there the Araithus sat, groaning a little as she took her weight off her feet.

She did not invite Ava to sit, but she sat anyway and received no reprimand. “Are you well?” she asked after a few moments of the Araithus sitting silently, her eyes closed and her features slacked in exhaustion.

“I will be,” said the Araithus, opening her eyes. “Durgo?”

A salkiy boy approached through another door Ava hadn’t noticed. He was small even for a salkiy, though Ava didn’t think he was a child. His eyes were nearly obscured by a shock of bright red hair, but when he peered openly at her, she could see the yellow-gold irises.

“Bring some food, please,” said the Araithus. “Do not stare.”

The boy tipped his head toward her and disappeared back through the door as silently as he had come.

“I apologize,” said the Araithus. “As long as you are here you may be stared at. They will only see a human, and those are not allowed in Lenthyn.”

Ava squeezed her fingers together. “Am I safe?” She needed to find a way out of here, and if the Araithus was going to help her, she wished she would just get on with it.

“I will make sure of it.” The Araithus studied her through gray eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said Ava. “But you said you would explain?”

“Yes.” The Araithus sat up in her chair, weariness falling away, but Ava did not think the salkiy truly felt as alert as she wanted to appear. “Do you know who I am?”

“The guard called you the Araithus,” said Ava.

“You know what that is, I assume?”

“No,” Ava admitted. It was not a word in her vocabulary. “But does it mean that you are the leader of this temple?” Arai, she knew, was the word for the leader of a salkiy village. And all the salkiys seemed to defer to her. It wasn’t difficult to put it together.

“It means I am the leader of the salkiys,” said the Araithus. “But I am very surprised you don’t know that word.”

“Why is that?”

“Your father was once the Araithus.”

Now it was Ava’s turn to be surprised. “He never told me that.” She knew her father had his share of adventures before she was born, had fought in wars and befriended emperors. But she could hardly imagine the slight figure of her father, quiet and non-confrontational, leading an entire people.

“I suppose he wouldn’t,” said the Araithus with a sigh. “He ran away. Disappeared into the west.”

That sounded a bit more like her father. “He just left the salkiys without a leader?”

“He named a successor,” said the Araithus. “It was not a good choice and there was a period of turmoil. I don’t blame him for that, though. It would have happened no matter who he named.”

Ava chewed her lip. “You said it was your fault I came here. How?”

The Araithus indicated the books spread out on the table. “Ancient ethestras. Powerful spells the salkiys lost knowledge of generations ago.” She looked up at Ava. “Your father found them again. Many of these spells could not even be worked by salkiys in their original form. Knowledge is not all we’ve lost throughout the centuries. No one has these kinds of Gifts any more. No one but your father.”

Ava swallowed and looked at her hands. She had known none of this. All those stories about his life with the humans, about his journeys with his best friend Atro, about how he had met and fallen in love with her mother. All that, and a bit about his life as a child in a salkiy village and the things he learned there. She had foolishly believed that was his whole life. But he had left silent such a huge part of it. Why?

“Do you know he is not fully salkiy?” asked the Araithus gently, as if she knew every one of her words cut Ava to the core.

Ava’s head snapped up. There was only so much she could take in one day. “He is!” What else would he be? He was certainly not human nor half-breed.

“His father was an ekalap,” said the Araithus, the last word hushed almost as if she was afraid to say it too loudly. “Do you know what that is?”

Ava shut her eyes. She didn’t know. She felt the Araithus’s hand land atop hers, the salkiy’s skin cool on her flushed and trembling fingers. “I see this distresses you. The specifics do not matter, anyway. Let us just say that his mixed blood gives him Gifts that neither salkiy nor ekalap can claim. Gifts much closer to what the ancient salkiys had.” She tapped one of the books with one finger. “He made these ancient spells anew, so that salkiys could perform them.”

“He can do that?” Ava asked.

“His Gifts were unlike any seen in thousands of years,” said the Araithus. “I do not even know myself the extent of them.”

Ava thought of a thousand things to say, but every word died on her tongue. So finally she had no choice but to move on. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“It was one of his spells that brought you here,” said the Araithus. “A way to transport one across great distances. It took the combined power of myself and my entire Circle to perform it, and we did not even know if it would work.”

“That’s how I came to be here?” said Ava. “You worked a spell?” Anger started to set in. “Why? Why did you pluck me from my home and take me all the way across the sea?” Her hands curled into fists. “I have nothing to do with you or the salkiys. I don’t even know who you are!”

“We intended to bring your father,” said the Araithus, her voice laced with impatience. “Not you. You were an accident. The spell worked in a fashion, but clearly it is not completely reliable.”

“That’s not any better,” said Ava. “You said it yourself, my father gave up your world years ago. How can you be so presumptuous as to force him to come back?”

“Because we need him,” said the Araithus. “War looms with the humans in the north, and there are far more of them than us. We will be destroyed. It will be as ruinous as Border Glory, if not worse.”

Ava did not know what Border Glory referred to, nor did she care. She was furious. “He wants no part of that. He’s fought in wars and it haunts him still. He will not come back.”

“Perhaps not for himself,” said the Araithus. “But to rescue his daughter?” She gave Ava an appraising look.

Ava’s heart sunk. She knew she was in danger as soon as she stepped out onto the road and had half a dozen spears shoved in her face, but she had allowed herself to believe the Araithus’s promise. The betrayal left her mouth dry and her tongue gummy. But she managed to say, “You said you would ensure my safety.”

“I have no intention of harming you,” said the Araithus, and the apologetic smile she gave Ava seemed, infuriatingly, genuine. “You will be kept in fine quarters, your every need seen to. You need not fear us. But if your father was led to believe you may be in some danger, perhaps he would come.”

“No,” said Ava, standing. “No. You allow me to return home. Do it with your spell if you can, or if you can’t, then give me safe passage to make my own way. I will not be used to trick my father!”

“I am sorry,” said the Araithus. “But you don’t have a choice.”