Chapter 11: Pride

The landscape flew by as Aran ran, his long strides more like leaps as he raced north across rolling sand dunes beneath a blistering sun. The eastern lands were warmer than those on the other side of the Amarions - particularly here, in the Sands of Nazar - and the sun beat down on him relentlessly. At the peak of each dune his eye was thrown out across more of the same; endless red-gold hills reflecting harsh sunlight until it felt as if he would have a permanent squint. This was his third day crossing the desert, and he was starting to wish he could fly like he could in amathani.

He had left the Ash’goth - and Evoni - five days ago. They were to travel west and north until they reached the Sorral Plain. There, they would meet up with the Dwarves and Elves under Elaina and Smythe, adding a mighty host of Orc warriors to their growing army. Evoni had been conflicted about staying with the Orcs, but she had relented after only a little protesting; she was learning the ways of healing under Masha, something she had taken to with enthusiasm. Masha was the oldest and wisest of the Ash’goth, an oracle of sorts, as well as a leader. Evoni would learn much from her. Strange, to think of Evoni as young when she was already nearly a century old, but that was how it seemed to him.

That was the thing about all this vala knowledge he had gained; he often felt like he was a thousand years old, or more. It was sometimes a struggle to remember that he was also a young man of twenty-one. Still, he would not return what had been given to him, even if he could; he would use every scrap of advantage he could garner against what was coming.

Hot air whistled in his ears as he launched off the top of a tall dune, soaring through the air for a few seconds before landing smoothly in the valley between this dune and the next. He smiled as he bounded up the next slope; it reminded him of flying. At the next peak, he stopped and pulled free one of the half-dozen water skins he had tied to his belt. The Ash’goth had warned him of the perils of the desert, and he had listened. Even he could not survive long without water. As much food as was practical to carry was stuffed into the pack strapped to his back, and he was careful to mitigate the use of his vala so as to make the food last as long as possible.

He stared north as he took a long pull on the water skin. For all he could tell, this desert would go on forever, but it had to end some time. Somewhere over the northern horizon, the sands gave way to thick jungle, which then became the coast. The Orcs said that journey would take near to two months, but Aran hoped to do it in much less time than that. Needed to do it faster. He had seen the shipyards in amathani. If Maloth wasn’t seaborne already, he soon would be. Time grew ever shorter, and he needed to find the rest of the Titans before Maloth did, or before they went to Maloth.

But which one will I find? Will I even find any of them? None of his old memories hinted at where or how to find one of the guardians of the world. It was quite possible that Maharad had gotten to them all already, which meant Aran’s quest was a futile effort. The one thing he knew for sure was that his vala was pulling him northward. He would trust and follow that. Putting his water skin away, he jumped hard, sailing high into the air, a hundred feet or more above the dune. He found himself laughing as he reached the peak of his flight and began to descend. It really was like flying! Landing just shy of the peak of the next dune, he ran a few paces and jumped again, watching the rippled sand passing by below.

Jumping like this did not use much more energy than running had, and it covered more ground; he would be able to keep this up for a while. Leap and fall, leap and fall, until the sun touched the dunes to the west and then slipped behind them. It was remarkable how quickly it grew cold, here. At full dark, with the fat moon rising amid a stunning array of a million stars, Aran stopped for a bite, sitting on top of a dune and gazing out over the desert while he ate. It was beautiful. He wished he could share it with someone. Perhaps one day he could bring his meldin here and they could all camp under the stars together.

Would he and they even end up staying together, when all was said and done? Perhaps it was a dream, living under the same roof - or even in the same city - with the women he loved. He wondered what his mother would say when she found out he had no fewer than eight women bonded to him and three children on the way, all to different mothers. No doubt she would faint on the spot. That, or give him a smack upside the head.

After eating, he briefly visited amathani, and finding no one else there, resumed his journey through the night. He’d been hoping for Elaina to be there, both for the company and to tell him how they’d all been getting on. Had Smythe solved his problem with the Dwarves and Elves? How was Elaina doing with her new meldin? Had Amina turned up, Sara in tow? Aran hoped Sara was well; whyever she had fled the Temple, he believed she was doing what she thought was best, if foolish to go off on her own.

On and on the desert went, hour after hour without end, giving him plenty of time to think. So many pieces on the board, all of them moving. So many other things he could be doing, but if Maloth got command over the Titans, all of it would be for nought.

At his best judge of midnight, with the moon high above, he stopped again with the intention of sleeping for an hour or two before continuing on. At the crest of a tall dune, he scanned the landscape for a suitable place to lie down for a while, preferably out of sight. A light wind gusted from behind, gently trying to push him down the slope in front of his boots. That was when he noticed the moonlight glinting off something fluid, off to his right. Was that water?

Frowning, he started off that way, already prepared for the disappointment of being fooled by one of the infamous desert mirages the Ash’goth had warned him about. If it was indeed a figment of his mind, it would be no bother; he had enough water to last at least another three days, and by his guess, he was already more than halfway across the Sands. I have to be, don’t I? Shaking off a worm of doubt, he opened his vala and stretched it out across the sand to where he’d seen the glimmer. Sure enough, in a valley between two rocky slopes was a stand of strange, tall trees with bare trunks and hard fruits hanging high above the ground beneath wide fronds. A deep pool of water maybe thirty paces across lay within the trees, making him suddenly very aware of how long it had been since he’d bathed. If it was clean, he could fill up his water skins and drink his fill! Aside from the trees, he sensed no other life down there.

Frowning, he hurried forward quietly, ghosting along a ridge until he was squatting above the oasis on the southernmost slope, peering down at it. Odd, for a place like this to exist in the middle of a vast desert. How did the water not dry up in the sun? Satisfied the place was abandoned, he slipped down the slope and into the trees, eager for a long drink. Brushing through the lush ferns growing beneath the slim-trunked trees, he dropped to his knees at the edge of the wide pool and dipped a hand through the water before bringing it to his mouth. It looked clear enough. Touching the tip of his tongue to it made him smile; it was cool and clean. Delicious. Much better than the tepid leather-tasting stuff he’d been having for days.

Once he’d drunk his fill, Aran stripped off and waded into the pool. It was sharply cold, but wonderfully refreshing. He sighed as he paddled around lazily, his vala keeping away the worst of the chill. It was going to feel nice to be clean again. What was a place like this doing out here in the desert, isolated and seemingly singular? Were there others and he just hadn’t come across them? Floating on his back, he gazed up at the stars through the canopy of fronds above. It was a question for another time, certainly. It didn’t really matter why this oasis was here, but the Orcs had told him he wouldn’t see trees again until he reached the jungles in the far north. That was where - in amathani - he had sensed darkness, a menacing presence, strong even in the dream. He was sure that darkness was of importance - surely it was Maharad’s doing - but he would not know until he was there. His thoughts played along those lines for some time as he swam. Maharad was like a sickness, a disease threading its way through the world, growing stronger all the time. He did not yet know how he was going to cure it, but he would remain faithful; a way would be found.

“Oh!” a surprised feminine voice said from behind him, making him spin around in the water. His eyes landed on a woman he had not sensed until just now, standing on the sand, watching him uncertainly. “What are you doing in my pool?” She was short and slim, with long, straight hair that shone darkly in the moonlight. Palely naked and seemingly unconcerned about it, she waited expectantly for an answer. She seemed more curious than annoyed at the intrusion.

“I am sorry,” Aran replied politely as he probed her with his vala. “I did not know it was yours. There was nobody here when I arrived.” She was not Human, so what kind of creature was she? Surely not an Elf; her ears were not long or pointed, and her slim figure ruled out any Dwarven heritage. He sensed age about her; it reminded him of the Mountain Giants, though she was surely not one of those, slight as she was. A young Water Giant, perhaps?

He started to swim to where his clothes, sword and pack were piled near the water’s edge. She felt odd, to him, though he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“You may stay, if you wish,” she said as he reached the shallower part of the pool and found footing. “I normally do not allow strangers, but you are different.” Still submerged up to his waist, Aran stopped and turned.

“Thank you,” he said graciously. “That is very kind, but I was finished anyway.”

“I am Nymra,” she stated, ignoring his thanks. “Who are you?”

Her face was shadowed by the night, but he could tell her big eyes were studying him. “Aran,” he replied after a moment. Why did she feel so strange?

“You are Human?” she moved a few steps closer, rounding the water’s edge.

“Yes.”

“Humans rarely come here. This place is difficult to find.” She continued her slow advance toward him. Aran fixed Oroth’s position in his awareness. He could get to the blade in a heartbeat if required. “Do you have any companions with you, Aran?”

“I travel alone,” he said, watching her warily. He did not sense danger from her, but something was still not quite right. She stopped a few feet away, her toes just touching the water. Her head turned to where his belongings lay.

“You will not need to defend yourself against me,” she said as if reading his thoughts. “I offer you no threat.”

Aran wondered if he could trust her word. “Are you a siren?” Legends spoke of alluring creatures which lured lonely travellers into their waters and drowned them, feasting on their souls as they died. As far as Aran knew, they were just stories, but all stories were rooted in truth, if you went back far enough.

Her face turned back to him. “You think I am beautiful?” The question made him suddenly more aware of how her skin gleamed in the moonlight, how long her legs looked on her short frame. She stood up straighter, as if to better display herself to him, thrusting her petite breasts forward. “Is my body pleasing to you, Aran?” Her manner was strange, as if she was unpractised in seduction, perhaps just trying it out for the first time, yet the slender maturity of her form could not be questioned. It was quite a paradox.

He realised she had not answered his question. “I will answer your question if you answer mine, Nymra,” he said levelly.

“I enjoy games,” she replied, smiling slightly. Aran frowned. “Very well, I will play, Aran. If I win, I wish to see the rest of your body.”

He blinked. “If you wish,” he replied slowly. He might as well go along with it, for now. Perhaps she knew something that could help him.

“I am not a siren,” she said, running her hands down her body as if it were obvious.

“I do think you are beautiful,” Aran replied honestly. She was, to be sure, if a little unsettling to talk with.

Nymra beamed. “That is well. I can alter this form, if you prefer?” Before his eyes, she suddenly grew a foot taller and swelled, until she was similar to Elaina in body shape, fit yet generously rounded in all the right places.

“I prefer you as you wish to be,” he said diplomatically. What other strange powers did she possess? “My turn. What kind of being are you? I have never met anyone like you before.”

Nymra appeared more interested in the new shape of her body than his question. She peered down at herself curiously, lifting hands to cup heavy breasts, hefting them slightly as if testing their weight. Then she craned her neck around to get a look at her bottom. Eventually, she returned her attention to him. “I am Nymra.”

Aran opened his mouth to ask again - obviously she had not understood his question - but she cut him off with her own. “Why are you in the desert?”

He hesitated. What to tell her? “I am on a very important quest,” he said after a moment. “Do you have any kin?”

“There are no others like me,” she countered quickly, and a little testily, he thought. “What is your quest?”

“I am looking for a beings of great power,” he responded, just as fast. The game was picking up speed. “Where did you come from?”

“The water,” she said, gesturing to the pool. Aran supposed he should have been more specific. “What beings of great power?”

“Titans,” Aran replied, taking a gamble. She could be one herself, for all he knew, but he doubted it. This creature did not match any of his vala memories about the world guardians, not even close. What did she mean she came from the water? “How old are you?”

“I do not know how to say it in the way you Humans measure time,” she said slowly. “But I have lived since this desert was the sea.” Her counter question followed. “What do you want with these ‘Titans?’”

“To help them,” he answered, again truthfully. He did not like lying, and only did it as little as he could, only when absolutely necessary. Since this desert was the sea? How many thousands of years might that have been? Perhaps she was mad, some poor creature driven to lunacy by long years of isolation out here. “Do you know where I might find one?”

“Yes,” came her immediate response, surprising him. “Will you keep me company this night?” I find your presence welcome.”

Her sudden change of tact raised his eyebrows. Was she still playing the game? “Yes, if you will tell me what you know about the Titans.”

A broad smile crept across her face. She was quite ravishing, really. Her body changed back to the way it had been before, slim and petite, not dissimilar from Sylvia’s. “I win.”

“How did you win?” Aran enquired, folding his arms across his chest.

A light gust of wind shifted Nymra’s dark hair around her shoulders. “You didn’t ask a question of me after you answered mine. Therefore, I am the victor.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Aran conceded. “Very well, a deal is a deal.” He moved up out of the water and stood with his arms out to the sides. “Will this suffice?”

Nymra walked a slow circle around him, which made him feel somewhat like a bull at market, being inspected by a bidder. “I believe you will,” she said softly before stopping in front of him. She was standing close, about a foot away, no hint of shyness or hesitation at the proximity. “You are not an ordinary Human, are you, Aran?” There was no real question in her tone; she knew he was different.

“No, I’m not,” he told her. “I am an arohim. Do you know about us?”

She nodded, looking him over again. “I have heard tales.” She reached out and touched one of the rune-scars on his chest. “What does this mean?”

He looked down at where her finger touched the angular marking on his skin. “That one means ‘hope.’”

Her eyes, large and dark, came back to his face. There was something different about them, but they were shadowed by the darkness, making it hard to say what it was. “I find myself wanting to learn about you, Aran. Please, make use of my home as you will.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “I have some food. Enough to share, if you are hungry.”

“You should keep your supplies for your journey,” she said, removing her finger from his chest and walking to a nearby tree. She smacked a fist into the thick trunk, making the whole thing shiver with the impact. One of the fat round fruits dropped from above, into her waiting hand. “These will sustain you. They hold much nourishment, I understand.” She tossed him the fruit and he caught it, noticing how it was covered in coarse strands of fibres.

“It’s full of water,” he said, shaking it a little. “But hard as rock.” He sensed no way to open it but with force. Placing it between his palms, fingers of both hands covering most of the fruit, he gripped it hard and twisted, splitting the shell until it came apart in two halves. The inside was lined thickly with pale flesh, hollow in the middle where the remaining liquid lay.

“You are strong,” Nymra murmured, coming closer. “That is good.”

Ignoring her odd remark, he tried the juice, sipping on it carefully. It tasted good, both sweet and savoury, and he was still thirsty. The flesh was good, too, rich and creamy. “Thank you, Nymra. This will make my rations last longer.”

“Take as many with you as you wish when you leave,” she said lightly. “I have no need for them.”

“What do you eat?” Aran enquired as he wiped juice off his chin with the back of a hand. She suddenly seemed taller, more mature, though he was sure she hadn’t altered her shape again. He started digging out lumps of the fruit’s flesh with his fingers and eating it. It really was quite good.

Nymra cocked her head at him as if the question did not make sense. “Nothing, of course.”

“Then how do you survive? Are you magical?” Her head swung. It was hard to tell what colour the long tresses were in the dark, but he suspected they might be a deep blue.

“I have no use for magic,” she said disdainfully, her lips twisting slightly.

“Then how do you change your body?” Aran asked casually as he made for his things on the ground nearby. Perhaps she would answer him more accurately if she thought he didn’t care one way or the other.

“The same way you breathe,” she replied. Aran thought he understood; it was just something she did without thinking. It very well may be magic, but he didn’t care to suggest it; it would only anger her.

She said nothing more as he squatted by his pack and began to pull out packets of dried meat, flatbread, cheese, and some dried fruit and nuts for after. The fruits from the trees here were nice enough, but not as filling as meat and cheese.

“What is that?” Nymra said from right behind him when he produced his flint and steel. She had been ten paces away a moment ago. When had she moved?

“It’s for making a fire,” Aran said, standing and turning to face her. “See?” He offered them up to show her, and in a flash she snatched them away and tossed them over her shoulder into the pool.

“What did you do that for?” he demanded, more taken aback than angry. He’d been looking forward to a hot tea, and now he could sense his flint and steel dropping to the bottom of the pool.

“No fire!” she shouted, her eyes as hot as the very thing she was forbidding.

Aran wondered if he should leave. He had given his word he would stay, though, provided she held up her end of the bargain.

“Alright,” Aran said soothingly, spreading his hands. “No fire. May I ask why?”

Nymra stepped closer, until their bodies were almost touching. He felt no heat from her. “He listens through the fire. He watches.” Her voice was low, almost inaudible.

“Who?” Aran asked in a near-whisper.

“Agni.” The name made Aran’s eyebrows climb. Agni was the fire Titan, the most destructive of them all. The other guardians all had many aspects, nourishing life, harbouring balance, creating as well as destroying, yet fire created nothing. Fire only destroyed. A chill ran up Aran’s spine at the thought of Agni under Maharad’s control. He hoped it was not too late. Surely the world would already be burning it if were so.

Without thinking, Aran seized Nymra by her slim shoulders and bent his head toward hers. “You know of him? Where is he? I must know!”

“You seek your own death, arohim,” she replied evenly, unconcerned with his grip on her. “Do you wish it so readily?” Aran stared into her eyes. This close, they were like pools as deep as the one behind her. Were her eyes just that? Pools of water? Or was it a trick of the shadows? There was ancient knowledge in those eyes, he knew. Knowledge he needed.

“I do not wish to die,” he answered after taking a deep breath. Relinquishing his hold on her, he went on more calmly. “But I do need to get to Agni. If you know where he is, it would help me greatly to know.”

“You seek blindly, Aran.” This time it was her hands that held his shoulders. “You may stumble over what is beneath your feet if you do not take care.”

He wished she would stop speaking in bloody riddles. Did she not understand how important this was? “Please, Nymra. I will give you anything in my power if you will just help me.”

“Done.” There was a foreboding sense of finality in the word, as if Aran had just agreed to something momentous. “The guardians are everywhere, and nowhere. You must know this.” More riddles, then.

“And Agni?”

“Is no different.”

Aran wanted to throw his hands up. “I do not understand, Nymra!”

She was moving away from him, then, backing into the pool. Well, onto the pool, really; her feet never sunk below the surface as she walked slowly backward. Stopping in the centre, she spoke. “Hear me, arohim, and watch.” She lifted slim arms and watery shapes began to form, rising from the glimmering surface and twisting, undulating, growing until Nymra was surrounded by six figures, all larger than Aran, some bigger than the others. He recognised Vasuda right away, the tall, muscular form unmistakable with those horns curling out from the front of his head. The other figures were no doubt the other Titans, two male and four female.

“At the beginning,” Nymra began in a deeper, more commanding tone than he’d heard from her yet. “The guardians moved in harmony, each balancing against the other, the lesser and the greater.” Aran already knew this much; Sadani, Vasuda and Agni were greater guardians, their dominions - water, earth and fire - the foundation upon which the others worked, while Rava, Vayani and Ranada were the lesser, their domains being weather, forests and beasts respectively. None of the lesser could exist without the greater.

“The balance became disrupted when Maharad was allowed to enter this world,” she went on. The figures moved on the water, some shifting into a fighting stance, others looking as if to flee. “And the world began to fracture.” The surface of the pool rippled violently and became a miniaturised display of crashing waves, cracking earth and raging storms, all somehow perfectly discernible despite being formed out of nothing but water.

None of this was new to Aran, thus far, but he kept his patience and watched. “Some fled to safety,” as she spoke, Ranada - a feminine figure with pointed ears and a tail - and Vayani - also female, with a crown of leaves on her brow - vanished, dropping into the water. “While others, succumbed to Maharad’s promises of greater power.” Vasuda remained, somehow appearing darker, more sinister, though nothing tangible changed about his form. The same for the tall, slender one with clouds circling her fluid form. That had to be Rava.

“Agni and Sadani clashed,” Nymra continued. “Neither one joining Maharad or those who fought under the banner of Aros.” The two remaining forms met savagely, each trying to get a hold of the other as they wrestled, though neither got the upper hand. “But Agni grew weary, his power drained, for fire cannot withstand water.” Agni began to shrink. “And Maharad’s whispers were strong.” The water-depiction of the fire guardian clutched his head and fell to his knees. “Rather than give in to Maharad and lose himself, Agni exiled himself into slumber, until his strength restored.” Agni vanished into the water.

Nymra went quiet then, looking at the place where Agni last was, then turning her gaze to Aran. The last remaining figure - Sadani, statuesque and proud - stood directly behind her, towering head and shoulders above her.

“And what of Sadani?” Aran asked softly.

It took a few moments for her to answer. A heavy silence had settled over the oasis. Leaves shifting in the light wind sounded too loud. “Sadani watches, and waits.” That appeared to be all the answer she was willing to give on the matter.

“When will Agni awake?”

“That time draws near,” Nymra replied. “Very near. He is already listening to the world again. The one you call Maloth seeks Sadani, though she has not come to him, yet.”

That was troubling, to say the least. “Rava is with him as well as Vasuda, yes?” He didn’t need Nymra’s nod to know it for true. The storms were proof enough. “What can you tell me about her?”

“She desires what all the guardians desire,” Nymra replied coolly. “She hates Sadani, for storms cannot be without water.”

“Sadani could stop Rava, could she not?” Aran hadn’t considered this.

Nymra nodded. “Though she will not. The balance must be maintained.”

“Even if she cannot be turned away from Maharad?”

“Without the balance, nothing can exist,” Nymra replied solemnly. Well, that meant there wasn’t much he could do about Vasuda or Rava right now.

“What about Vayani?”

In answer, Nymra’s head turned to look at the nearest tree, and Aran thought he caught the ghost of a smile on her lips. “She listens.” She cocked her head as if hearing something inaudible to Aran. Whatever is was, she did not bother sharing it.

“Does Maharad have her, too?” He exhaled in relief when she shook her head.

“He does not,” she said.

“Where is she?” Nymra’s slim arm lifted to point west. West was good; perhaps Smythe or Elaina could find her. When he asked Nymra if she could be more specific, her head swung. Even my abilities have limits, arohim.”

“What of Ranada?” Again she pointed, this time north, but offered no further information when Aran pried.

“I suppose I should thank you,” he said as graciously as he could. “I wished for more, but you have given me more than I had.”

“Yes,” Nymra replied. “I will accept your offer, now.” Aran opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but she added, “Anything in your power is what you offered.” She walked toward him slowly, suddenly seeming taller, more full-figured than before. No, she was such, and the water-image of Sadani behind her was now streaming forward, pouring into her. Oh, you fire-blinded fool! Aran cursed himself for being too stupid to see it earlier.

“Perhaps Vayani is right,” Nymra - Sadani - murmured softly as she came to stand before him in her real form. “I wish to know.” He couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe as he regarded her perfect feminine shape, tall and voluptuous, with thick, flowing hair down to ample hips. Now that she wasn’t disguised, he sensed her power, too, deep and eternal. How had she hidden herself from him so easily?

“Know what?” Aran asked as his mind spun, trying to figure a way out of this. He could flee, but he doubted she’d let him go.

“I offer you something no mortal has been offered before,” she said, her eyes of pure water glimmering in the moonlight. As she spoke, tendrils lifted off the pond and encircled his wrists and ankles, then wound up his arms and legs. He tried to pull away, but she held him fast. “You will give me a child.”

Aran gaped. How was that even possible? Before he could protest, the tendrils were lifting him, carrying him out over the pond. A moment later he was lying on his back on the pool’s surface, staring up at the sky through the ring of trees, much as he had been when Sadani had first come upon him. “You cannot force me to this,” he told her, drawing on his vala as deeply as he could, not expanding it, but concentrating it all within his body. An immense amount of power flooded into him, filling him, brilliant heat suffusing every muscle, every tendon, every bone. He’d never held this much before; he hadn’t even known that he could. It was as if he was vibrating all over. What had changed? Was he naturally growing stronger, or had his time with the Orcs made him this way?

Whatever the answer, he had little time to ponder it, for Sadani was now standing over him, one foot on each side of his waist. It was clear what she planned. She looked down at him impassively, a beautiful, implacable force. She held him fast even now, with him brimming with power, and he saw no sign of strain on her face. The watery ropes may as well have been vala-forged steel.