While the desert outside the wall made the land hostile and impossible to survive, Everrun was an oasis with the water resources sufficient for five times the amount of acolytes, priests, and priestesses in the Order of Vala. Gandrett never failed to admire the lush vegetation framing the buildings of the priory, the small fields where she, among other acolytes, worked regularly to ensure the order was self-sustained and independent from the outside world.
As she rushed out the door, leaving Nehelon locked in his cell, her fellow acolytes didn’t hide their curiosity, most of them halting whatever they had just been about to do, some of them nodding at her as she made her way up to the citadel.
“The Meister won’t be pleased if you disturb his alone time.” The bell-like voice came from the doorway of a side building. Surel moved away from the door and fell into step beside Gandrett, her onyx eyes full of excitement.
Of course Surel had heard a stranger had been brought into Everrun. Nothing slipped her notice.
“I will have to risk it,” was all Gandrett replied to her friend, her mind on the tall warrior she’d left behind.
She wasn’t certain what annoyed her more: that he had almost defeated her, or that he had managed to get under her skin. She shook her head at the thought, at the tightness that spread in her chest when she was reminded of her homeland, the last memory she had of her parents—weeping and pleading for them not to take her.
Them.
Gandrett inhaled a steadying breath, her eyes on her target as she made her way along the cobbled road, and shoved aside whatever was left of her memories from before Everrun—which were few and happy ones, mostly. So happy, the thought of them made the present even more painful. But she wasn’t the only one. Every acolyte in the Order of Vala had endured a fate similar to hers.
The sun had dropped low enough that when Gandrett glanced at the pond at the foot of the citadel, she found it tinted in a pinkish-orange.
The truth. The twinkle in Nehelon’s eyes when he had sent her off. A challenge. She had been training with the other acolytes in the priory for too long to not recognize a challenge. And now—
Now she found herself storming right into the Meister’s time of reflection just to satisfy her own curiosity. She rolled her eyes at herself, hoping no one was watching her too closely.
The Meister wouldn’t be pleased; Surel was right about that. And yet—
The girl tugged along as Gandrett entered the shade under the arches behind the columns of the citadel, her words almost drowned out by the splattering of the waterfall. “Kaleb said the guy is wearing the Brenheran coat of armor.”
Gandrett shrugged, keeping her head high despite the spray of water that blew in through the arches as she neared the entrance. “One more reason to hate him,” she said, her voice hard as stone.
She didn’t need to look at Surel to know what the girl was thinking. Anything that wasn’t the daily routine was exciting to her, a welcome distraction. Where Gandrett was a dedicated fighter, skilled with almost any type of blade one could find across Neredyn, Surel was of the gifted group of the acolytes, the few blessed ones who possessed the magic that kept Everrun inhabitable in the middle of this unforgiving land. Water magic. The ability to shape and command the element of life. The element of Vala.
Magic, not usually a human trait. And while in the beginning, even knowing that she shouldn’t, Gandrett had observed the Vala-blessed with envy, she had learned to embrace her own talent—even though swordsmanship wasn’t half as glorious as the sight of what some of the priests and priestesses of Vala did with water magic. She had honed it and perfected it as best she could, sparring with anyone she could get to pick up a sword and fight—until she had stopped losing. Until the Meister and some of the high priests and priestesses were the only ones who could keep her occupied for more than two minutes with a weapon.
As they turned the corner into the citadel, cool, moist air touched her face. Unlike the wind whipping over the barren land outside the walls or the calm breeze inside the walls, in the citadel, the temperature was always a couple of degrees lower than anywhere else. The Calma Desert didn’t compare to the slat deserts of Phornes at the southern end of Neredyn. It didn’t even belong to one of the territories of Neredyn anymore. Even if Everrun had once belonged to the Fae at some point in history, the Calma Desert had been unclaimed for a thousand years.
Surel was still at her side as Gandrett made it through the long, stone hallways, past ornately-decorated carvings that told of Neredyn’s history. Gandrett didn’t pay attention, not anymore, not after countless walks into the heart of the citadel.
It was only when Gandrett stopped at the gate to the courtyard garden that Surel raised a thin, black eyebrow, her golden-tan skin glowing in the sunset light that filtered in through the windows which framed the door—and crossed her arms over her chest, indicating she was going to wait here rather than face the Meister’s wrath. He wouldn’t punish her with violence. Not for this. She had contained a potential intruder and strictly followed protocol.
With a slow hand, fueled mostly by the annoyance at Nehelon that was still swirling inside of her, Gandrett turned the brass doorknob, the ruffled metal cool under her touch preparing her for what she was about to experience, and stepped into the windless, square space.
The Meister, perched on a small dais made of the same sandstone as the rest of the priory, didn’t look up at her approach. His face was turned south-west, the direction Gandrett had entered from, and his hands rested on his knees. Meditation, Nehelon had said, as if he knew exactly what the Meister did in here.
Again, her mind raced back through her years at Everrun—and came up blank. Neither the name nor the face was familiar. Only the Brenheran symbol on his chest…
“It must be important,” the Meister noted without opening his eyes, without any movement other than that of his lips, “if you came all the way from your run to bother me during this most sacred time of the day.”
Sunset. The hour of Vala. Where the life of this day goes to rest to make way for the life of tomorrow.
As she stepped forward into the oasis of blossoms and bushes, Gandrett felt whatever force had driven her—curiosity to find out what Nehelon had to tell her—to come here at once, without even giving herself a moment to think it through, subside, leaving a mild tremble in its wake.
“Apologies, Meister.” She bowed low, eyes on her dusty boots, knowing from experience that even if the Meister wasn’t using his eyes, for now, he had other ways to be aware if she had followed protocol or not.
When the Meister didn’t immediately react, Gandrett lifted her head just enough to glimpse at his timeless face. A face smooth yet ancient with a crown of white hair atop. A face she had gotten to know as well as her father’s and mother’s, better even. Only without the affection she held for the latter. And it rarely appeared as peaceful as today. Even if his eyebrows knitted together in a frown indicating she had disturbed him while he’d been pondering the fate of all of Neredyn.
Well, this was important, too. Even if now, facing the Meister, all urgency had ebbed away.
“Speak, Gandrett.” His eyes remained closed as if he refused to dive out of wherever his mind had retreated to. Nobody knew, not even the high priests and priestesses, what the Meister truly did during those hours in the afternoon.