2: Haven

“You shouldn’t have followed me.”

They were the first words Batu had spoken since leaving behind the bear’s den. Silence hung between them, thick as moss gathered on the boulders along the verdant stream.

Shame should have driven her to an apology. But Leiyn had rarely behaved as she should.

“What would you have done if I hadn’t?” she countered.

Her friend paused and looked back over his shoulder. The beard thickening across his jaw lent him a wilder look of late, exacerbated by his unrelenting scowl. She could not help but flinch. Rare was the occasion when Batu became angry with her. Its coming cut all the deeper for it.

“Whatever I deemed right.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “You cannot choose for me.”

Too late, Leiyn adjusted her tact. “Batu, please try to understand. I know this is something you have to explore—Saints, I know better than anyone. But doing that, when we don’t know the consequences… It’s dangerous.”

The plainsrider laughed, a harsh, biting thing. “You’re one to speak against being rash.”

“I’m the authority on it,” she retorted. “Who better?”

“Just what did you think I was doing?”

Leiyn moved around Batu, tired of speaking to his back. “Bonding with it.”

He failed to meet her gaze. It was all the confirmation she needed.

She wanted to seize hold of him, break the solitude that swaddled him, but did not yet dare. Instead, she adjusted her longbow where it hung from her shoulder.

“We don’t know what would happen if you did that. I can’t…” Leiyn swallowed and looked aside, not daring to voice that hidden fear. “Isla wouldn’t want that,” she said. “She wouldn’t want you harmed.”

“Isla’s not here.” His words were soft, but they seethed with feeling. Like sharks swimming beneath the surface of a black sea. “She doesn’t get a say in what I do. Not anymore.”

“Batu…”

“The rest of you can fight.” Batu stared into the dark jungle ahead, his lifefire sputtering. A campfire trying to remain lit amid a downpour. “Fight him. If I’d been stronger, I could have…”

“Don’t.” She spoke harsher than she meant to, unable to rein herself in. Casting aside caution, she grabbed his shoulder and shook him, as if that might banish the thoughts in his head. Her esse touched his, another layer of conviction. “Don’t go down that path. We didn’t kill her. Don’t take blame that isn’t yours.”

She spoke as much to herself as him. How often had she condemned herself for what happened that day? Counterfactuals haunted her sleepless nights. Nightmares came when she finally slept, haunting her with her failures.

Each time, she saw Isla’s lifeless eyes staring back. Her friend’s blood staining her hands.

Batu looked askance at her. “I don’t,” he said, softer now. “But it doesn’t change the facts. You have your mahia and Clouded Fang. Ketti has magic. So does Ekosa. Teya has enough to get by. And Ata is Ata. You all can fight lyshans and odiosas and titans. While I…” He shook his head. “I can’t. Not as I am. But my tainted blood—my heritage,” he corrected himself, adopting the word Ata used to refer to it. “If I embrace it, I can fight with you. I can take down that bastard.”

Leiyn let her hand fall away. She wanted to deny his reasoning, but he was right, in part. Lacking mahia made Batu less dangerous to their enemies.

And what if we lose you? she wanted to ask.

But she feared what his answer might be. So she addressed instead the pain they shared. What drove them each day toward the edge of despair.

“I miss her, too.”

He jerked his head. Agreement and acknowledgment was in that gesture, yet a trace of denial as well. As if he refused to let Isla go.

Have I?

She bumped him with an elbow. “Let’s head back. Don’t want the others to worry more than they already are.”

Leiyn passed him to take the lead. After several strides, Batu followed.

* * *

The jungle thinned as they neared their sanctuary.

Even set in a clearing, Leiyn might have missed their refuge in the gloom had she not known it was there. Haven, they called this place. In a way, it resembled the hollowed maple of the dryvans’ Glade, a house formed of a living tree. Every balcony, ceiling, and floor was the wood of that grand kapok. Its leaves, yellowed but clinging to the branches, shaded them in a draping canopy. Ridged roots congregated to form a ramp up to its upper levels.

At another time in her life, she would have marveled at it as a wonder. Now, she only saw it as a peculiar ruin. In the scant light, she could have almost believed it haunted. No campfire warmed its mossy lengths, nor did life glow from within beyond a few animal inhabitants. Yet she felt those lingering out of sight, an untouchable itch.

Leiyn continued striding forward as she reached her mahia deep into the ground.

Clouded Fang.

The ash dragon roused to consider her with his searing gaze. For a time after Isla’s death and Leiyn’s exiling, grief had dampened her power so that she wondered if it would ever return. But in the months after, the formation of grottos came easier than ever. No longer did she fear becoming lost in the web of life spread across the world. If anything, part of her longed for it.

The same held true of her titan. Each time she summoned him, more of the ash dragon swept through her. Threatening to consume her, should she let him.

She always clawed back to herself. Just.

Even with the titan fathomless leagues below, their bond was strong enough that Clouded Fang did not need to rise to lend her his strength. A shock of power rolled up into her, then burst through the air.

Their refuge transformed.

No longer was Haven cold and dark, but illuminated by firelight. The windows, empty before, echoed with the sound of conversation. Ketti’s laugh carried across the clearing, spiking irritation through Leiyn. All amusement did that of late.

She stifled it, as she had these past three months. A necessary measure lest she drive her friends away.

Those few who remain.

Batu’s step barely stuttered as they entered the grotto. He could not achieve the transition on his own, but he had undergone it enough times to be inured to its effects. Little rattled him these days.

It was she whose heart still squeezed. Whose fear threatened to whip her temper into a fury if she loosened her grip on it, even for a moment.

Grief makes monsters of us, Tadeo had told the rangers once after losing one of their own to a titan’s awakening. You must guard against it as any foe.

Ever before, she had warded it away. Even when she lost Tadeo and the rest of the Wilds Lodge, she had kept going.

Now, she wondered if she could.

Breathe, just breathe.

Leiyn steadied her breathing as she climbed the sinuous ramp up to their home, Batu trailing behind. By the time she reached the main chamber, her mind had faded back to numbness. As much relief as she ever felt.

Beyond the archway awaited their comrades. Ketti and Ekosa nestled together on a curved bench beside the bonfire burning within the central pit. 

The months had worn subtle changes into the Eteman. She had grown relaxed in her posture and laughed often with her beloved. Occasionally, when Ekosa whispered in her ear, Leiyn caught a blush warming her face.

Leiyn had to squash the resentment that flared up. Unfair though it was, witnessing a blossoming love grated amid her grief.

Ekosa provided no relief, for he matched Ketti’s warmth and energy. Yet during their stay at Haven, the eesu had shown himself to be as steady and thoughtful as Leiyn had first estimated him to be. Toward Ketti especially, he was gentle and caring, and toward the others he showed sensitivity to all of their troubles. Many was the night he spent with Batu, distracting the plainsrider from his loss.

The months had wrought physical changes upon Ekosa as well. His hair grew out thick as a shrub, and the braid down the back of his neck widened. A beard spread across his face, though he did not let it grow as wild as Batu’s. Only Ekosa’s thin frame remained untouched, the jungle during the winter months providing too poor of fare.

At their entrance, the pair looked up. Ketti’s smile slipped away, expression smoothing with expectation. Biqqa continued to flutter above their heads, the emerald hummingbird’s long beak dipping into honeysuckle flowers that had crept through a seam in the ceiling.

Leiyn did not look at Ketti yet, but raised her chin to stare at where Teya stood. Out of sight, she leaned on a balcony, staring into the gloom—or, with her limited lifesense, peering into the shimmering haze of the jungle’s esse.

Below the Gast scout and under the cover of the treehouse sheltered their four mounts, fetched for them by Ata in the days following their arrival at Haven. Teya’s draconion, Bane, lay completely still, his lifefire reduced to what would have been a worrying level in another beast. Almost, the huge reptile seemed to hibernate. His stillness did not prevent the three horses—Feral, Saikan, and Isla’s old mount, Mottle—from skirting to the far side of the shelter, their lifefires radiating vigilance. For Mottle and Saikan, Leiyn could muster pity. That proved more difficult for her own ornery horse.

With Chispa and Ata departed for the moment, she had the full count. Everyone was safe.

For now.

Leiyn faced Ketti. “You should have warned me.”

The Eteman stood and met her gaze. The precious stones dotting her skin sparked in the firelight. “We are each free to do as we would,” she answered quietly. “Is that not so?”

Heat swirled through her like fire building in Clouded Fang’s belly. “It’s not safe to wander at night.”

“Don’t blame her.” Batu angled himself between between Leiyn and the Eteman. “It was my choice.”

She met his eyes for a moment before looking back at Ketti. Neither of their expressions shifted.

Ekosa stood beside his beloved. “Please, everyone. It is late and we are all weary. Perhaps this is best discussed in the morning.”

Leiyn knew he spoke wisely. But she could not contain her fraying fears.

“So what?” she snapped. “I’m just supposed to let you get killed by lyshans? Sharo knows where we are—he has to. Every time we step outside this grotto, we’re taking a risk. We have to make sure it’s worth it.”

At her raised voice, Biqqa fled through a window to hover outside. The chamber filled with quiet, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Leiyn felt Teya approaching before she filled the doorway on the opposite side of the room.

“Redlock.”

Warning rang in the scout’s voice. Leiyn cast one more look at their companions, hoping her words had gotten through to them. Their expressions told otherwise.

“I must do this, Leiyn.” Once, it had been Batu’s habit to speak so softly he was difficult to hear. Now, his baritone filled the room. “It will be worth it.”

She did not look at Ketti and Ekosa, knowing what she would find. Their agreement filled the room like an odorless vapor.

Leiyn gave the best compromise she could. “We’ll discuss it when Ata returns.”

“As you wish,” Ketti replied, her tone implying much left unsaid.

Weariness washed over Leiyn. Saints, I’m tired of this. Each day, the beast caged inside her lashed out at her friends. The fear she would drive them away only made it more unruly.

Did they not see she only tried to protect them? That she could not keep them safe if they kept putting themselves at risk?

“I need rest,” she muttered. “Night.” Apologies tumbled through her head, but she could not find the energy to voice them.

Her companions murmured farewells in return.

Leiyn moved around the fire pit to where Teya waited. The scout inclined her head toward the archway, then led her through.

They traveled across the balcony to where the mass of thick vines collected. It served as good as a ladder, allowing them to reach the loft above. Grown used to the climb, Leiyn managed it easily even with her bow slung over a shoulder. She scrambled up after Teya and, pulling aside the curtain of ivy, hauled herself inside their room.

The loft was shaped like a bulb just beginning to blossom. The narrow opening at the top of the curved walls of smooth wood was covered with a thick growth of vines that served just as well as a thatched roof. For all the wonder of Haven’s construction, its furnishings were modest. Lacking wardrobes and chests, they had strewn their belongings across the floor, months eroding habits of preparedness. What sparse furniture there was had been grown from the wood and was strangely proportioned. Designed for bodies not quite human.

The primary piece was the canopy bed in the middle. Ivy hung in curtains around the sides, providing a modicum of privacy and, more importantly, shelter from bugs. Though only made of moss and wood with their bedrolls spread over the top, the hum of heritage, Iritu magic imbued in it long ago, made it as yielding and comfortable as any bed Leiyn had slept in.

Teya stood at the foot of the bed, staring at her. An invitation in that look.

“Not too tired?” she asked softly as she parted the hanging ivy.

Leiyn shrugged off her bow and leaned it against the sloping wall next to the rest of her gear, then deposited her weapons belt and quiver next to it. Standing, she held Teya’s gaze as she approached with purpose. Her hands found Teya’s hips and swayed her closer before murmuring in her ear.

“Suppose I have a minute or two.”

Teya smiled. Light barely infiltrated the room, just enough for Leiyn to see the smile only touched her mouth. She focused on her beloved’s lips and leaned into them.

Teya came alive against her skin. Their lifefires leaned toward one another, extending out from their bodies to merge.

Lips pressed together. Tongues darting. Esses flirting, twisting and twining.

Teya encircled Leiyn in her arms and moved them onto the bed. Their limbs entangled as much as their lifeforce. Flames raced along her skin, soothing, invigorating. Burning away all other thoughts.

Leiyn yielded to the moment. Escape lay in Teya’s embrace. She drank it down, thirsty for even the faintest taste.

Fleeting though its comfort proved to be.