CHAPTER 60
GUEST
Kiethara groaned.
For a second she thought she was back in the wagon with Natal, tied up on a sack of potatoes. She had never felt more uncomfortable in her life than she had then.
Except for now.
The sun beat merciless on her back, the white fabric of her dress sticking to her flesh from a sheen sweat that covered her from head to toe. Her arm was trapped in an awkward position beneath her and blades of grass scratched at her blistering skin. Her nose was pressed into the dirt.
On top of that, her head was pounding. She could not remember a time where it had throbbed like this. Her throat was so dry, the feeling only made worse by a horrible taste in her mouth.
Was she sick? Confused, Kiethara tried to pull herself up. Her pinned arm went numb with the relieved pressure, her head spinning and throbbing with every movement.
Kiethara froze as she lifted her head off the ground, her eye coming level with the beautiful bloom of a flower. A flower? She raised her head another inch and corrected the thought. Not a flower, but many flowers. She was in her mother’s meadow.
She was sleeping in the meadow? Why wasn’t she in her hammock? A series of fuzzy images filled her head. Camella had come, and she had made her drink wine…why was it so hard to remember?
Shaking her head in bewilderment—and wincing as her tender skull responded harshly to the movement—she finally managed to sit up. She stretched and stumbled to her feet, moaning as her joints cracked.
Where was Camella? Kiethara spun slowly, looking—
Kiethara gasped so loudly it hurt her throat. Her heart stuttered and her features popped wide as she took in the unfamiliar sight before her.
Reaching to a height of at least two hundred feet, a massive pine stood in the center of the meadow. She gazed up at it with wonder and awe, unable to speak as she absorbed it in. Its colors were vibrant; the thick trunk was a rich brown and the needles a vivacious emerald. It looked so alive. Already animals could be seen and heard from its massive branches. Vines had begun there ascent up the bark without hesitation.
Kiethara’s stomach began to flip uneasily. There was only one person who was powerful enough to grow something of this magnitude. Obviously, she must have done it some time last night. The fact that she could not remember creating such an enormous work of nature alarmed her, but that was not what was making her uneasy.
What was making her uneasy was the fact that she was beginning to recognize the tree. The more she stared up at it, the more she began to realize what it resembled.
Kiethara had had a dream, a long time ago, where Tinya had first talked to her. She had stood there, in the middle, watching the people in her life take their places among the branches.
She shook her head again, unable to accept the idea. Had she really grown the tree from her dreams smack in the middle of a meadow? She still could not remember the previous evening. Had she really done this? Kiethara tentatively walked forward towards the thick trunk, fingers outstretched. It was as though the image before her might just be a dream and only when her skin came into contact with the rough bark did she fully believe that it was as real as she was. It was an odd sensation, having a distant dream become a reality in the most literal sense.
“I don’t believe it,” she said, stepping back.
“Believe it, Kiethara,” Camella mumbled from the left of her, pulling herself up from the flowers. Her short hair stuck up in tuffs.
Kiethara winced at the sound of her voice and the effect it had on her throbbing head.
“It’s rather inspiring,” Camella shrugged, standing up and stretching.
“I couldn’t have done this!” Kiethara stated, pointing at the tree. “I couldn’t have!”
“Well, you did,” she answered dryly, her nose scrunching up as she gazed at the pine. “Scared the hell out of me, too. I thought it was an earthquake, or an attack!”
“Well, I’m sorry,” Kiethara practically whimpered. “I don’t even remember doing it! Why in the world did I?”
She looked at Camella with frantic eyes, desperate for some explanation. To her surprise, she had one.
“In tribute to Aaron.”
“In tribute…? To Aaron?” Kiethara stuttered, looking back at the tree.
“We were rejoicing in his memory last night,” Camella said with a shrug. “We got a bit carried away.”
Kiethara was not listening. She was staring up at the tree again, her expression now speculative. She had grown this tree in tribute to Aaron? Well, it was fitting. It was by far the largest tree in the entire forest, so it resembled him perfectly.
Kiethara’s lips pulled up in a brilliant smile.
Camella allowed her a moment of silence. She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands behind her back, as though she needed to restrain herself from interrupting Kiethara’s marveling. She probably did.
Kiethara sighed and put a hand to her tender head, wishing she could enjoy this moment without the constant pounding.
Camella finally broke and a giggle slipped from her lips. “I bet your head hurts, huh?”
Kiethara winced. The giggle was too loud in her ear. “Yes.”
“The dark side to a pain-free night,” Camella said solemnly. “A painful morning.”
“This is because of the wine?” Kiethara asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“And the fact that I can hardly remember a thing?”
“That too.”
“Ugh,” Kiethara groaned. “Then what’s the point of drinking in the first place? It feels like I’ve been poisoned!”
Kiethara was a little annoyed. If she had known that the wine would have this effect, she would not have drunk it at all. So much for a wonderful concoction.
“Now it feels that way. Last night, you felt amazing. Trust me. It was a great way to snap you out of that apathetic, melancholy state you had been in. Look up! I bet you haven’t seen the sun for days.”
That was true, but still…she could not remember anything at all, except for a few hazy items. And in those hazy recollections, she had the feeling that she had had no control over her actions at all.
“We had a great time last night, and we wouldn’t have without a little drink. Don’t regret it.”
“Do you remember what happened last night?”
“Oh, yes, I was sober enough.”
“Care to fill me in?”
“We talked, we laughed, and we played. I braided your hair.” Camella indicated to Kiethara’s back.
Kiethara brought a hand to the back of her neck, surprised. Sure enough, she felt her waist long hair in patterned pallets running down her back, tied with a leather cord. She craned her neck back to try to get a glimpse of it.
“Here,” Camella laughed, taking the braid and flinging it over her shoulder. Kiethara stroked it. How pretty.
“You must teach me how to do this!” Kiethara exclaimed, wincing when her loud voice increased the tempo of the throbbing.
“I can try. It might be difficult for you to do by yourself, since your hair is so long. I would let you practice on me, but my hair is a little short.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Whatever you say,” Camella laughed, rolling her eyes. Now why don’t we start working our way towards a lake or a stream so we can get you something to drink? You certainly need some water.”
Kiethara’s attention was directed towards her dry throat. “All right, let’s go.”
Kiethara led Camella to her lake. On the way there, she filled her in on the rest of the night.
“That’s when the fun really started,” Camella said with a wicked smile. “You stood up and told me all about Aaron’s great deeds and strengths. Well, shouted would be a more accurate description.”
Kiethara bit her lip, worried. Had she told Camella some of the guardian’s secrets by mistake? She would never drink that blasted drink again.
“And right at the very end, you pointed at the ground a
nd the tree shot up. I almost had a heart attack, I tell you. Then you passed out.”
“Passed out?” Kiethara asked. “Why?
“Wine can do that to you, too.”
Kiethara practically growled, shoving a tree limb out of her way. Her hands burst into flames. Camella yelped.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
Camella did not say anything for a long moment. Kiethara used the silence to focus on letting her anger simmer out, as well as the flames.
“Why are you so angry?” she finally asked.
“Because,” Kiethara growled. “Do you know how reckless and irresponsible that poison made me? It seems like I had no control over myself last night! I could have killed you with that tree, Camella!”
“I think you’re blowing this way out of proportion!” Camella reasoned. “Nobody got hurt and we didn’t act that insane. It was much better than that lifeless, pitiable state you were in before.”
“Are you sure about that?” Kiethara challenged. “Fine, I didn’t hurt you. What if Gandador had decided to attack last night, eh? I wouldn’t have been able to defend myself or the forest properly, let alone you. And trust me, my father will want revenge after you thwarted him the last time.”
“Excuse me?” Camella asked. “Your father?”
Kiethara was silent for one beat, her heart freezing. How would Camella take it? As bad as Navadar?
Camella was silent for a little while.
“Did he attack?” she asked suddenly.
“What?”
“I asked, did Gandador attack the forest last night?”
“N-no,” Kiethara stuttered, surprised at the direction the conversation had headed. “Obviously not, but—”
“But nothing, Kiethara,” Camella said, rolling her eyes. “You need to be a little less stringent and enjoy your life. Sure, you have a responsibility, but what’s the point of the forest if the forest doesn’t let you live?”
“The point is making sure this great power stays alive and that nobody abuses it. That is what I have to make sure of, and I can’t do it incapacitated like that!”
“The term is drunk,” Camella giggled.
“Oh, whatever!”
“Kiethara, nothing happened. If you spend the rest of your life fuming over what could have happened, you are going to be mighty miserable.”
“I’m not miserable. I’m angry.”
“Now you’re just being stubborn.”
Kiethara laughed involuntarily.
Finally, they reached the lake. They both had sweat sticking all over there soil-encrusted limbs, so they quickly stripped themselves of their garments and sank into the cool water.
The first thing Kiethara did was take a long drink. Again, she was surprised at the magnitude of her thirst. It helped with her head a little, but not by much.
Taking a bath with another made her very self-conscious. She noticed that they were relatively the same size, but Kiethara was all too aware of the scars that marked her skin. Camella had such beautiful skin, tan and flawless.
Camella started wadding back to the shore.
“Are you done already?” Kiethara asked.
“Heavens, no,” she said. She stopped when the water only came up to her knees, and then she began scanning the surface with her hazel eyes.
“Then what are you doing?”
“You have some meaty looking fish in this lake,” she whispered. “I’m going to catch one.”
“What?!” Kiethara shrieked.
“Shh!” Camella hissed. “You just scared it away!”
“You were going to capture a fish?” Kiethara whispered in a pained tone. “Don’t tell me you were going to eat it!”
“Of course I am,” she whispered back. “I’m hungry, and I bet you are too.”
“I’m not eating anything!”
“Everyone in the world eats animals, Kiethara,” she sighed.
“Well, I don’t.”
“Why not?” Camella demanded, standing up from her huntress’ crouch.
“It’s disgusting! It’s cruel!” she replied. “You’re eating a living creature, for crying out loud!”
“Plants are alive.”
Kiethara opened her mouth and then closed it again. Were plants…alive? She had never thought of them that way, but they certainly weren’t just things, like rocks. They grew and, in the forest, they created magic.
“How do you know?” Kiethara asked.
“My grandfather told me,” she said simply, as though that proved it were true. “He reads so much literature, histories, sciences…And can you really say that a plant is just another object?”
“No, but—”
“Kiethara, if you say the word ‘but’ one more time I’ll feed you to the fish. Now, you are going to try it, and you are going to like it. Well, as soon as I catch one.”
Camella crouched in the water and froze, her hands hovering just above the surface. She remained in that position for a solid two minutes before she suddenly slapped her hands in the water and pounced.
“A-hah!” she cried, victorious. She pulled the flopping fish to her chest and flung herself on the grass. Kiethara could not help but laugh as Camella wrestled with the fish, all the while silently praying the fish would win.
However, to her disappointment, Camella proved the stronger of the two. She raised the limp animal victoriously, grinning like a fool.
“Oh this day I, Camella, bested the water beast!” she exclaimed.
“Some beast.”
“Do not mock me! I bet you couldn’t have pulled that off.”
“I would have just set the thing on fire if I really wanted it.”
“Well, that’s what we’re going to do now,” Camella said. “Let’s get dressed and head back to your hammock. I need to get something from my bags.”
“All right,” Kiethara agreed, a bit reluctant to get out of the water. Not to mention to have her friend force feed her some poor animal.
When they were on their way back to her clearing—damp, but clean—Kiethara realized something.
“Why do you have so many bags with you this time?”
“Er,” Camella said. Kiethara was surprised to hear that she sounded uncomfortable. “I’ll tell you when our fish here is cooking.”
“Why?”
“Its nothing, really,” she said. “I just have some news, that’s all.”
Kiethara was instantly wary. “Good or bad?”
“That kind on depends,” Camella responded cryptically.
“On what?”
“How much you like me,” she winked mischievously. She giggled at Kiethara’s bewildered expression and skipped forward lightly.
When they broke from the trees and entered the clearing, Camella made a beeline for the bags she had piled in the grass.
“Can you gather some wood? Fallen branches, broken twigs…” Camella called over her shoulder as she rummaged.
“Sure…” Kiethara replied, but it sounded more like a question. She turned and ambled back under the cover of the trees. It took her less than a minute to collect a good armful of tree limbs. She had not even wandered more than a couple yards from her clearing.
When she came back, Camella had laid out a pot, a couple of wooden bottles, and a few other unfamiliar items that Kiethara had no name for.
“Thank you,” Camella said, jumping up and taking the wood from her arms and setting it down. She started arranging it carefully.
“Now set this on fire,” she ordered.
“I don’t think setting anything on fire in the forest is a good idea!”
“Kiethara, trust me. We’ll be watching it the whole time.”
Knowing it did her no good to argue, Kiethara set a small blaze on the wood.
“Good,” Camella mumbled, but she was preoccupied. She had a small knife in her hand, the fish on a stone slab. Kiethara looked away as she prepared the fish for the fire and began cooking it on a pole from above.
/> “Do me a favor,” she said after a few minutes. It had been silent except for the crackling of the fire and the sound of Camella’s work.
“Oh?” Kiethara asked.
“Fill the pot with water and grow me a couple of carrots and potatoes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Please,” she added. Kiethara grinned and did as she was instructed. Although she loathed admitting it, the aromas coming from the fish were making her mouth water. It was just as before: two different parts of her being were warring with each other. This time, it was her mind and her stomach.
Filling the pot was no problem. It seems her loss had cured her of all difficulties she had once had with the water element.
Camella took the pot with the vegetables and then busied herself again. Impatient, Kiethara paced. She wanted to know what Camella had been talking about before, but she knew Camella would not answer until the meal was ready.
Finally, Camella seemed satisfied with her creation. She set the steaming pot on the grass, a spoon in each hand. She motioned for Kiethara to take a seat opposite her.
She slowly made her way over to her friend and sat down rather reluctantly. The pot in front of her smelled wonderful and it did not look like a dead fish at all. It was an orange-brown liquid, with visible chunks.
“What is it?” Kiethara asked.
“Stew,” Camella replied happily, stirring it with her spoon. She fished around inside the pot until she managed to raise a white chunk out of the stew. “Eat this.”
Kiethara’s stomach flipped as she stared at the lump. “That’s fish, isn’t it?”
“Come on, don’t be such a coward,” Camella teased. “It’s just a piece of meat. It’s not like I’m making you eat its eyes or anything.”
Kiethara made a small, disgusted noise.
“Close your eyes and open your mouth, or so help me I’ll waste my own magic to set you on fire.”
Kiethara cracked a grin at Camella’s sudden seriousness. “Fine, but you owe me.”
“For what? When you taste this, you’re going to owe me. Now open up.”
She complied, her insides squirming. The meat fell on her tongue.
Words failed her as she chewed. The exotic flavor was like an explosion in her mouth, making her taste buds scream in pleasure. So this was what meat tasted like! Its taste was unlike anything she had ever tasted before in the forest, so rich…she did not know if she liked it.
As she swallowed, she felt a wave of guilt. She was actually enjoying the taste of a dead animal. The thought was so sickening, so evil. How could she find pleasure in death?
“So what do you think?” Camella asked in a breathless voice.
“I…” Kiethara bite her lip. Honestly, it was not disgusting. She wanted more. But just the image of the fish in her head…
“Listen, you have to see past the whole animal part,” Camella sighed, reading her like a book. “Everyone eats animals. Animals eat animals.”
“You’re right,” Kiethara admitted. Animals did eat each other. Was she any different?
“See? Now tell me, how did it taste?”
“Amazing,” she told her in a small, guilty voice. “Better than most of the things I eat here. Though not as good as these honey cakes Navadar brought for me once in Redawn...”
Camella laughed. “Sweets are my weakness too.” She handed Kiethara a spoon.
“Eat up, and make sure you eat some of the fish, too. I’m not going to be able to live here if all we eat is rabbit food.”
Kiethara’s spoonful of stew paused on its course to her mouth. “Eh?”
Camella fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. Her cheeks went pink from what appeared to be embarrassment.
“Camella?”
“I’ve…um…been meaning to ask you something, Kiethara,” she finally admitted.
“Oh?”
“Mm,” she murmured. “See, my grandfather has recently got himself into a bit of trouble, and things have gotten a little complicated.”
“Is he all right?” she asked.
“Physically, yes,” Camella assured her. “The thing is, he’s been discovered.”
“Discovered?” she asked, picking up on the operative word.
“We’re not supposed to use magic in Redawn,” Camella whispered gloomily. “Nobody is. It’s the only non-magic kingdom in the world; the only reason we live there is because my parents died. My grandfather used to live in a kingdom south of Redawn. It’s very secluded, refusing to do business or barter with any other kingdom. Well, when my parents died—my mother had run away to Redawn to be with my father—my grandfather came up from there to raise me in Redawn. He, however, refused to stop practicing the art of potion making, something that requires magic, as you well know. He wasn’t obnoxious about it, or anything. He didn’t flaunt himself, but as the government grows to be more corrupt, people are becoming more and more scared and greedy than ever before.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think Gandador has a hand in Redawn now. The king has a sketch of you hung all around the kingdom, offering a reward if anyone has any information on you, as well as even more gold if they manage to capture you alive. Everyone knows now of your little vacation in Redawn, and people are watching out for magic-users like a hawk. So, of course, the extra scrutiny got him reported. I wasn’t home at the time when he got arrested.”
Kiethara gasped.
“When I got there, they had taken him, along with all of his potions. I packed the necessities and left as soon as I could, but then I realized I had no place to go.”
Camella picked at the grass as Kiethara absorbed her story. It was a lot to take in.
“So you wish to stay here?” Kiethara clarified, still stunned.
“Yes,” Camella said in a small voice. “Just for a little while, only as a guest. Just long enough for me to figure out a craft and a way to earn some money so I may be able to lodge at a cheap inn. If you don’t want me, I could—”
Kiethara held up her hand, interrupting her friend’s worried babble.
“Camella,” she said, beaming. “I would be honored to have you as my guest.”