Down a Lost Road (41 page)

“
He told me once about
that…gift.” I choked on the word, then said through my tears, “He
told me it was a death-gift, but I never understood. Oh, Damian, if
only the Brethren could bring him back now, like they did
before…”

I gazed across the glade as I spoke, and saw
Akhmar coming toward us. I broke down and ran to him, throwing my
arms around his neck.

“
Akhmar!”

“
Child, look at
me.”

I wavered, then turned my eyes to his.

“
Do not weep for
him.”

“
How can you understand?” I
cried, tearing away from him. “It can’t be any different for you
now. But for us he’s gone! He’s gone…and I’ll never see him
again.”

“
But he sees you,” he said
gently. His gaze shifted past me. “The others have come. Go and do
him honor.”

I glanced back at them, then as I turned to
say something to Akhmar, I found he was gone. And I knew without
anyone telling me that it was the last time I would see him.

I returned to the others, watching them
work, cold and desolate. Dad, Kurtis and Enhyla took down one of
the blue-cascade trees and cut away two of its faces to reveal the
satin-smooth, pewter flesh within. Mr. Dansy helped them carry it
to the other side of the glade where the trees grew close and tall,
and laid it between the trunks.

I thought I heard the faintest strain of
music, like chimes piercing a quiet night. It almost seemed the
trees bowed their sapphire heads over the length of trunk, forming
a bower of starlit blue. I watched Tyhlaur bathe Yatol’s arms and
face, the water streaming from his skin tinged red. When the blood
had been washed away they carried him to the bier of silver wood.
Enhyla had strewn handfuls of tiny flowers over it, their
honey-sweet scent drifting like incense under the blue
cascades.

I heard Enhyla sing, saw Tyhlaur still
overwrought with grief. My dad too…his eyes shone with tears.
Kurtis and Damian stood a little withdrawn, and no one paid me any
attention where I sat leaning against one of the trees. I was glad
of the solitude. I wondered if Yatol was, too. My eyes closed and I
let myself drift in that numb, obscure space, with Enhyla’s voice
weaving plaintive around me, and the wind soft on my face. When the
song ended, my father bade Enhyla and Tyhlaur farewell. Footsteps
shuffled past in the verdant grass, then someone took my hands in a
warm clasp. I opened my eyes and found Tyhlaur kneeling before
me.

I couldn’t say a word to him. But the grief
in his eyes mirrored my own, and I only sat holding his gaze,
trying to hold back my tears. I threw my arms around him.

“
I’m so sorry,” I wept. “Be
consoled, Tyhlaur.”

“
And you.” He withdrew,
smiling sadly at me and gripping my hands. “Farewell,
Merelin.”

I watched him go, and realized that I was
alone. Only Yatol remained, silent and still under a canopy of
stars. I sat a while unmoving, staring at the table of living wood
bathed in silver-blue light. After a moment, I crept to the bier
and knelt beside it, gazing down at Yatol’s tranquil face.

“
It seems so strange,” I
murmured to him, the sound of my voice in the quiet jarring me. “I
don’t want to go home. This is my home. Oh God, Yatol, how can I go
back?” I paused, then said with sudden bitterness, “I wish I had
died in K’hama, because then I could have been laid to rest here in
the
Branhau
with you, and I’d never have to leave this
place. I can’t bear the thought of going and never coming back.
But…you have.” My throat closed and my vision swam. “So maybe it’s
not so hard. You always gave me strength, Yatol. Give me strength
now. I just wish I’d had a chance to thank you. To tell you…I love
you.”

I dropped my head onto his hands, sobbing.
Why wasn’t he waking up? Didn’t that always happen in the stories?
I laid my hand on his cheek, brushed back the tangled strands of
hair.
Wake up…

Golden light washed over me, mingled with
opaline blue. I wiped away my tears as I turned to see who had
come. Onethyl and Mykyl. Soon they too would be lost to me.

Mykyl held out his hand. In it was the Blade
of Heaven.

“
Once I gave this blade to
Yatol,” he said. “It was my arming dagger from the Battle of Heaven
before the dawn of the universe. I give it to you now, to do with
as you please.”

I hesitated before taking the blade. “He
never told me what it was,” I whispered. “I’m not worthy to keep
this gift, though I thank you for it with all my heart.” I turned
back to the bier, placed the hilt in Yatol’s radiant palm, and
pressed it against his breast. “It belongs to the man who first
bore it,” I said. Whispered, “Goodbye, Yatol.”

I bent and kissed his forehead, my tears
falling in his hair. Then I drew a deep breath and closed my
eyes.

“
I will go home now,
Onethyl.”

Epilogue

In August we had our family reunion, the
first one in four years that felt complete. It was a huge party
too, for Dad’s return, for Maggie’s commencement of college, and
the celebration of a cousin’s thirteenth birthday. It was a
scalding day, cerulean-skied and cloudless, tolerable only with the
dry wind out of the southwest. We drank lemonade by the gallon, and
our dog Jas and several of my cousins planted themselves under the
cool spray of a mister.

I sat with Dad and Damian under the old
magnolia, Dad with his mint julep and Damian and I sipping icy pink
lemonade. We weren’t talking – we still had a hard time not talking
to each other in the tongue of Arah Byen. So we sat in pleasant
silence under the dark magnolia boughs, watching the happy chaos
around us. My cousins started a water balloon fight, accidentally
breaking one over the table of salads. Two of my uncles were
grilling bratwurst on the grill, but no one complained when the
salads got splashed or two of the sausages burned. It was one of
those happy days when nothing could go wrong, when we laughed at
every silly accident because there was no point in getting
upset.

Dad went to help with the grill, and a
moment later Damian went into the house to get something for one of
my younger cousins. I felt no inclination to move. I leaned against
the tree trunk, smiling briefly for Maggie who was taking pictures
on her new camera. She must have taken over a hundred pictures
already, acting as self-appointed official reunion photographer.
After a while she dragged an older cousin over to a table to review
her work. They laughed over some of the photos, and crooned over
others – probably pictures of my Aunt Celeste’s new baby. My cousin
demanded one or two be deleted, and was indignant when Maggie
refused.

“
Oh, Mer!” Maggie called
suddenly. “Come see this!” I got up and ambled over, hearing her
say to my cousin, “I’ve discovered my hidden talent. I should be a
photographer.” I joined them and she held out the camera. “That’s
the one I just took of you. Awesome, right?”

I peered at the picture. I grimaced at first
– Damian was the photogenic one, not me. Then my breath caught, and
tears stung my eyes.

There, just past my left shoulder, was a
shimmer of light.

Sneak Peek: Subverter (The Sequel to
Down a
Lost Road
)

Chapter 1

It had only been three months since I’d seen
him, so I didn’t expect that I wouldn’t recognize him.

My gaze flitted over the rows of shaved
heads and green-on-green athletic uniforms lining up in front of
us. I searched each stern, unsmiling face, trying desperately to
find Damian’s. Finally I saw him, third from the left in the second
row, staring straight ahead like the other recruits. Without all
his hair he looked so much older. I couldn’t say he seemed stronger
or tougher or more serious – I’d seen all those qualities in him
since the day we returned from Arah Byen. He’d seen the face of
war, and it had never left him. Somehow I’d always known he would
end up in the military.

Maggie and my best friend Darcy crowded
close beside me, almost making me deaf with their cheer and
whistles. I couldn’t seem to find my voice. I’d gotten over the
whole crying thing a year ago, but this scene threatened to break
my record. Then everyone fell silent to listen as someone who
looked important started talking about how he had turned these
recruits into Marines. The platoon was called to attention.

Vaguely I felt Darcy shaking me, heard Mom
asking if I’d seen him. Saying how strong he looked. I watched,
numb, as the platoon turned and jogged off to finish their
motivational run.

The next few hours passed in a blur. We were
herded from one place to the next, ending up on bleachers to watch
the parade. Finally my excitement caught up with me. I counted
minutes until I could finally hug him, talk to him, ask him how he
was. Tell him how proud I was. Tell him how much I’d missed him.
God, I’d really missed him.

The platoons reappeared, marching now to the
cadence of the military band. I didn’t pay any attention to the
things that were said, the words of advice for families,
instructions to the recruits. I just kept my gaze fixed on Damian’s
platoon. Then, abruptly, everything dissolved into a chaos of
activity. The platoons broke up, the people in the stands were
cheering, shouting, and clapping, shoving past and trying to track
down loved ones. I stood close to Darcy, trying to avoid being
trampled.

“
Go find Damian,” Mom said,
shoving us gently. “We’ll wait here. Better not make everyone crowd
down there.”

Darcy grabbed my arm and hauled me forward
before I even had a chance to consider the suggestion. We edged
through the herds of people, sidestepping enthusiastic hugs and
screaming mothers. Where was Damian? I could’ve sworn I’d just seen
him standing near his platoon, but with the forest of people around
me, most of them significantly taller than me, I’d lost him.

“
Mer!”

I spun around. Damian appeared through a
chasm in the crowd, pushing his way toward me, his face one huge
grin. I barreled toward him and threw my arms around his neck. He
lifted me clear off the ground as he hugged me, but as he released
me the grin on his face faded to a strange, sad smile.

Okay, he
had
changed. He’d changed a
lot.

I took half a step back, studying him as if
he were some strange exhibit in a museum. My mind couldn’t quite
process it all. I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. I
wondered if I’d changed as much as he had. Everyone told me I had,
since I’d come back from Arah Byen a year ago. I had lost friends
over it, friends who couldn’t understand why I was so much more
serious, so much more distant than I’d been a few months before.
The friends who had stayed friends didn’t understand either, as
Darcy always reminded me, but they stood by me anyway.

And while Damian had come back knowing
exactly who he was and what he wanted to be, all I seemed to
understand was who I wasn’t, what I didn’t want to be. Somehow I’d
muddled through senior year, at some point applying for my dad’s
university and getting accepted. Now I had a shiny schedule of
classes all set to start in a few days, and I hardly cared. All I
really wanted was to go back to Arah Byen, but that option simply
wasn’t one. Besides, the only person I wanted to go back for wasn’t
there anymore, either. I had nothing. My heart was torn between two
worlds, belonging to neither. An exile, still. I envied Damian his
certainty.

He was hugging Darcy now, grinning at me
sidelong as she squeezed him tight, her cheeks bright red against
her golden hair. She’d always had a thing for him. Apparently he
didn’t mind. Past Damian I made out my parents and Maggie coming
toward us, too impatient to wait for us to bring him to them. My
mom reached us first, and Damian stooped to receive her proud hug.
She clung to him with tears in her eyes, and after a moment I
realized he wasn’t just tolerating it. He hung on to her with the
same fierce emotion, brows knotted and eyes squeezed shut.