Shadows and Crystals

The Li'am'ra of V'sri'sar frowned. The early blooms of spring did not please her. They wish to arrange themselves, she thought as she studied the flowers in the tall, blue vase set upon a simple wooden table. The snow leopard put aside her silver scissors. They are as intractable as that mystic, keeping their secrets and dreams to themselves! She flopped onto a wicker chair, and tapped the armrests in vexation. That Ayasha had left Tir'shan still confounded her, for she could not understand how the desire for adventure had trumped love.

Ryndi glanced at the sky, the clouds overhead threatening rain. Foul weather did not concern her. That spring brought sudden storms was in the natural order of things. The o'lathi shivered under her gown of yellow silk. This is the third time a shadow passes over my heart, she thought with alarm.

She left the comfort of her chair and paced. Among the survivors of Thundera, there were no remaining seers among the white tigers. It was also rumored that noble Cheetara had lost whatever precognitive ability she had possessed when she returned from the Matrix of History.

Perhaps the gods prefer that we solve our own problems, Ryndi mused, and seers will vanish altogether. No matter, she decided with a shake of her long black-spotted, grey-white mane. V'sri'sar may yet send a dream to enlighten me on my uneasiness.

"One who offers Love," a light voice called with respect. "You have visitors." The young priestess gestured toward a group of Wolo elders who had come with her into the courtyard.

V'sri'sar has done well to summon you, Miri, Ryndi thought, admiring the petite Felinaria who was patterned with swirls of orange and black on her white fur. But I must get you robes that suit you. Fuchsia is too hot a color for you.

"We have the final placement for the upcoming festival," the tallest canid remarked. He worried his floppy black hat, perhaps uncomfortable with being received by a hermaphrodite. "We thank you for your support of a maypole, so that our spring tradition of Flor Mai will spread."

For the moment, hospitality takes precedence, Ryndi conceded to herself, despite her still present anxiety. The Li'am'ra bowed to her guests. "Let us repair to my chamber, and discuss this delightful custom."

*****

Roiling with indecision, Ryndi considered the silks scattered upon her bed. She stretched her naked body to relieve the apprehension that had gripped her soul since the first rays of the sun had beamed across the colored tiles of her bedroom. Shadow pull. It upsets my mind on a day that should be festive and joyful.

She went to the far window which overlooked the main plaza, and gazed out. The first Thunderan maypole, an object of her procuring, rose tall and inviting. Festooned with blossoms and ribbons, it attracted the attention of many females eager to frolic around it to entice lovers to perfumed beds. And I will join that gay line, she thought with delight, for I choose femininity over masculinity this day, and the distraction will be very welcome.

A booming sound broke her pleasant reverie. Next to the maypole, the great clan drums stood ready for the male dances. I enjoy their potency, but they should be in another plaza, Ryndi decided. Their nature will detract from my sweet maypole.

Miri's voice suddenly sounded beyond her chamber door. "Li'am'ra, your friend has arrived."

Heat rushed to Ryndi's face. Tir'shan has actually come! The o'lathi grabbed a turquoise gown, and a silver link belt, then quickly donned them. Snatching a painted fan, she straightened, and struck a pose. "Send him in, Miri."

The wooden door carved with flowers opened slowly to reveal the mystic she wished would give her just one night of love. What do they feed those who live in the north that they can grow so tall! He always has to duck to enter, Ryndi thought with awe, as the white tiger crossed into the room.

"Greetings, Mrísena's favorite son." The Li'am'ra twirled. "What do you think?"

The mystic's sky blue eye's narrowed in judgement. "The color favors you, but the cut does not. It is too long for your frame."

Ryndi replied, "Sri'rin would say otherwise."

The mystic lowered himself onto a chair cushioned with red and gold fabric. No comment? Ryndi thought. Never a good sign. She gestured toward a marble table upon which sat a carafe. "Can I offer you some wine?"

"I performed several minor healings already despite the early hour. With this chaotic Wolo festival expanded to our city, everyone is in an agitated state. Those of us attending the events are all wearing mystic blue, so that people in need of healing can find us easily. But I do not care to add to the wildness of the day by exposing myself to the uncertain effects of alcohol."

Ryndi sat on the edge of her bed. Perhaps you should have just stayed home, then, she thought petulantly. Your lack of a lover has put you in a foul mood. Changing the subject deftly, she asked, "Did the little princess not come with you?"

The mystic grinned, worries suddenly lifting from his rugged features. "Ameera is back at the Halls of Healing, and is in Te'sara's care for the duration of the day."

"I hope you prayed to Mrísena for Te'sara's sake!"

"True. Ameera is completely into everything," Tir'shan said with a laugh.

Good, Ryndi thought. There is hope for the day if he can be amused.

Tir'shan sighed unexpectedly. "Ayasha has only been gone five suns, and yet I know that Ameera misses her mother," he said softly. "She looks for her everywhere we go."

"It surprised me that Ayasha and Dah'ri decided to walk to Oasis, but who knows what new things they will learn because of this action. They have a fine warrior escort in Panthro and Chand'ra. And I know young Taima is thrilled to be on her first lengthy journey as a travelling mystic. Surely you must know, that no matter how long she is gone, in the end, Ayasha will return to you both." And if she does not, I am here for you, Ryndi thought with very little guilt.

"Ameera is beginning to speak. What do I say to her when she whimpers in her sleep for her ra'sa'ba?" he retorted as if he had not heard a word she had spoken.

A disquieting silence fell between them until Tir'shan pointed to a high shelf decorated with various carvings and metal bells. One figure cast prismatic light on the wall. "A new member of your collection?" he asked gruffly, still smarting from his lover's absence, but letting further discussion of it lapse.

"You have an eye for fine things, mystic," Ryndi answered, pleased that he had noticed. "Can you get it down for me?" she asked.

"Why you keep your possessions on a shelf you cannot possibly reach baffles me, Ryn," Tir'shan said, as he stood. He carefully removed the tiny figure, and held it up to the sunlight. "I'k'ta?" he guessed, contemplating the animal the carving depicted.

"Close. It is a horse."

"Beautifully done. Such detail for clear quartz...."

"One wonders how it was done," she said, finishing his thought. "Alas, Xerxes would not tell me."

"The starborn gave you this?"

She set her hands to her hips, and tilted her head slightly in exasperation. "Don't sound so shocked, mystic. I am, after all, the Li'am'ra of V'sri'sar. People recognize that I appreciate beautiful things."

"But Xerxes--"

"Gave me this some time ago. But you may have discerned what I have as well."

Tir'shan nodded. "I am not mistaken, then, am I."

"Although many maidens hover around Xerxes, only one seems to have finally intrigued him."

"Masika, the daughter of Tygra'a."

The o'lathi nodded in agreement. "Her father is distracted by the love of a cheetah, and not much concerned." The mystic handed the crystal horse back to her. "In rescuing those within the Matrix of History, your daughter Cenatua has set things right, Tir'shan."

"As of late, I am sure of nothing in this life except the blessings of Mrísena," he offered with a weary shrug. He walked toward the door. "I will meet you on the plaza." He traced the air with his finger. "You may wish to find something--"

"More respectable, less garish?" Ryndi remarked with a huff.

"Warmer. There is a chill in the air." He threw open a chest near her writing desk, and removed a green robe with a heavier weave. "Add whatever belt and purse you wish, and you will be ready for the day," he commanded. For a second, his eyes brightened with mischief. "And do not forget footwear."

She regarded his regal bearing as he departed her chamber, and yearned for a moment in his strong arms. The o'lathi growled, and shook her head to dispel her daydream. "He sees me as only male, and for that reason alone will fail to consider me as female," she said dejectedly.

Something was warm. The Li'am'ra glanced down at her hand, and realized she still held the crystal horse. "Oh, for Love eternal you fool," she said, berating herself for failing to take advantage of the mystic's height to put the object back on its shelf. "Well I cannot leave you on a table, you might fall." Ryndi scanned the room, and found a stray piece of fabric. She wrapped the crystal figure carefully, then slipped it into a yellow cloth purse embroidered with leaves.

"With me you will be safe, little horse, and at the end of the day, I will have an excuse to invite Tir'shan back," the Li'am'ra acknowledged, pleased.

*****

If I continue laughing, I will wet myself, the o'lathi decided, before dissolving into another spasm of mirth. That it was the usually decorous Cori who had related a saucy story only added to her amusement.

The voluptuous ri'sar'ri waved her hands in the seemingly vain hope of stopping her own laughter. "Bees!" she gasped, repeating the last word to the tale that had left them both in hysterics.

Tir'shan entered the beer tent. "I think you both need to take a deep breath. Go outside, and compose yourselves," he reproached. "Especially you, Cori. What if someone needs mystic help? Did you really need to drink another mug of ale?" The giant's serious tone set them off once more.

Ryndi wiped tears from her eyes. "Forgive me, my friend," she said between giggles, and gave Tir'shan's long ivory braid a playful tug. She retrieved a coin from the yellow purse, which hung from her knotted belt, and left it in a jug as a gratuity.

Before the white tiger could rebuke the pair again, the clan drums sounded to announce the start of the male dances. Ryndi trembled as the strong vibrations passed from her head through to her toes. "Why must the males go first!" the o'lathi snapped. She thought of her fine maypole, disappointed that the female dances were put to the end of the day by Wolo decree. Who will be sober enough by then to appreciate the beauty of the form or the females? Ryndi wondered.

Cori's cobalt eyes sparkled in her round face. "Oh, come, Li'am'ra! Do not fret. It is our chance to watch the males strut and swagger," the white tigress said. "They should make a fine display, especially with Tir'shan among them."

"What in the seven--"

"Now, now, Tir'shan," Cori said, "you must uphold mystic honor through the dance!" His fellow ri'sar'ri ran her finger along the inside of his palm. "Besides, you promised me that if my mood improved, you would favor me with a treat." She drained her mug, then set it on a stand reserved for empty vessels. "I do believe my sadness at our fate as ri'sar'ris has been lifted, at least temporarily. And it would do you good to dance out your loneliness."

V'sri'sar's heart! She really is tipsy, Ryndi thought with horror, or she would never have said such a thing to him. I must get her away from here. "Indeed, sister, let us watch those foolish males." The Li'am'ra intertwined her arm with Cori's, concerned that the white tigress might not be able to make it to the dance circle unassisted. "Coming, Tir'shan?" she asked innocently.

"Yes, but I will not dance!" he stated flatly.

"A pity," Ryndi admonished as she pulled Cori toward the tent's opening. "I have never seen you dance. I am guessing that you would be quite graceful." And push my desire for you to its peak, she thought with irritation at her own weakness.

A crowd of males circled the huge drums. The females stood a respectable distance back to allow for the dance. The drum of the small cat clan sounded first, its airy tone playful and mischievous. Several small cats moved to a delightful rhythm that summoned the waiting females to come and play. A few took up the invitation, and danced their chosen ones free of the circle to the cheers and lusty catcalls of the bystanders as the first round ended.

The other drums sounded in their turn. The cheetahs danced speed; the panthers celebrated stealth. No one could match the cougars in leaps. The lynxes added bawdiness; the lions held to the formality of the court.

The snow leopards wove fluid, intricate patterns that brought tears to Ryndi's eyes. It was said that only her race had the gift to summon rainbows through dance, thus ensuring fertility and good fortune. She suddenly wished that she had honored her maleness by participating, despite the discomfort her unique presence might have caused others.

The gathering grew quiet. The red and white tiger clans always ended the ritual because long ago they had started the tradition to commemorate the end of a war. Under the care of two muscled drummers, the great striped drums rumbled, and shook the plaza like thunder sent by the gods. The participants circled each other with tense, measured steps in an ever tightening hexagonal weave of orange, black, brown and white.

A low, murderous growl made the strands of Ryndi's mane rise. Cautiously she turned toward the source. Tir'shan's hands flexed spasmodically, his claws ready to rend. She reached for him just as the tempo of the drums changed to the rapid pace of a beating heart. Her friend launched himself into the circle, and left her grasping the space where he had stood in astonishment.

Tir'shan intercepted the knot of dancers, snarling as he spun past. His claws flicked each tiger with the contempt of a king who knew he was unmatched in all things. The mystic swiftly sundered the pattern, as the others withdrew, fear and respect mingled with the thin line of blood marring their faces.

Tradition demanded a victor. Tir'shan danced, his body bucking and twisting to an internal pulse that matched the unrelenting cadence perfectly. Two swords miraculously flew into the circle to acknowledge his superiority. The mystic caught them both with supernatural ease, the stamping of his feet radiating his intense pleasure. The flashing steel he brandished added to the ferocity of his complex and dangerous movements. He fought a duel to the death with an unseen enemy, but one doomed to fall under his clashing swords. A series of increasingly wilder parries and thrusts blended into one blurring, fatal whirl. On the last beat of the drums, Tir'shan raised his swords and roared in victory. Some in the crowd screamed in terror at the sound he made, while others stood as still and as silent as stone. The mystic lowered his weapons, his eyes clouded with the soul of another, evil and remorseless, and laughed. When his gaze fell upon the Li'am'ra, his lips curled into a unclean sneer.

She almost missed the desperate psychic sending. *Help!* Tir'shan implored.

I will die knowing that I attempted to save him, Ryndi thought as she raced toward the mystic. She flung her arms about his body, and prayed that the strokes of the blades would be swift.

Mist enveloped her; quiet descended. A space opened within the shadowy cocoon. On a barren plain, Tir'shan floated above a circle of swords pointed upwards, his body bound with the tattered blue strips of fabric that had once formed his robe. The gigantic mountain tiger who stood beside him raised his great long sword, ready to cleave the mystic in two.

"Does the Lord of the North always display cowardice by subduing those who are not warriors," Ryndi shouted with contempt, surprised that she had any voice to challenge the specter of a dead king in a place beyond time.

Sartren's dark amber eyes flickered with interest, the flesh hidden beneath his ak'ti responding to her presence. The smile that formed on the mountain tiger's face indicated that he would indulge in the pleasure of tormenting his victim. The voice that issued forth from deep within his massive chest reminded her of a molten fissure within the earth, searing and deadly. He gestured toward the suspended mystic. "I gave him life. By right, he is mine to sacrifice." He released his sword. It hung in the air to await his return. "You are an additional offering."

She had rarely used the gift of a Li'am'ra. The word of power when it came would leave her helpless, the magic unleashed always changing. She waited until the tiger towered over her, knowing that in his arrogance he would read her frozen stance as fear, and that he would not be wrong. He bent his tall frame, so that his scarred face came close to hers. He stank of blood, ash and rotting flesh.

Sartren clasped her throat delicately. "Ever so slowly," he stated icily.

Ryndi spoke.

A column of light consumed them all.

*****

Incessant humming bubbled through her consciousness. The Li'am'ra eyes shot open. She bolted upright, amazed to find herself in her bed. The jaunty tune ceased.

"Easy," said Cori, her pleasing alto soothing and warm. She pulled up a chair, and sat by her. "Do you recall anything from yesterday?"

"Nothing after your story in the beer tent," the snow leopard answered absently, her disconnected state of mind the only thing keeping her from growing angry at her inconvenient state and the time lost.

"Tir'shan's memory goes farther forward than yours, but not by much."

The mention of his name dropped memories into place like pieces of a puzzle, but nausea attacked her without warning. Leaning over, she emptied what little remained in her stomach into a metal bowl Cori had swiftly provided.

"Tir'shan?" she asked weakly, attempting to compose herself.

"Remembers nothing after listening to the tiger drums, and has kept his feelings on the matter to himself, " Cori replied, as she cleansed the snow leopard's mouth with a cloth. "I hoped you might be able to enlighten me."

I know what transpired. I will not speak on this to anyone but him, if necessary. His heart does not need further breaking, Ryndi decided. She shook her head in answer to Cori's request.

"As you wish," the ri'sar'ri said, with a tone that suggested that she knew she had lied. "Many will be the stories spun around Tir'shan's dance. Some of the tigers have said that possession by the drums is answer enough for what occurred to you both. Tir'shan plumbed the fierce depths of his northern soul; his dance seduced you completely, and you leapt into his arms without regard to the danger. In the end, you both collapsed under the emotions the drums evoked." She smirked. "I do not believe them."

"What do you believe, Cori?" Ryndi asked with apprehension.

"What I alone appeared to have seen." The mystic set the bowl and cloth on a nightstand. "Perhaps it is because I am a ri'sar'ri, and am used to travelling out of my body in performance of my duty. What happened existed in a moment beyond the reckoning of time. When you embraced Tir'shan, a shadow appeared. It surrounded you both, but a shaft of light dispelled it. Time returned when you both fainted."

"Could it have been nothing more sinister than the play of light and dark under a changeable sky, and the emotion of the moment that made your brain prey to tricks?" Ryndi asked with feigned innocence.

Someone gently knocked on the door to her room. "Miri will watch over you now, Li'am'ra, until you feel stronger," Cori remarked. The white tigress stood, taking the fouled cloth and bowl in hand. "Tir'shan's heart has been heavy since Ayasha left. It made him as vulnerable as anyone to unseen forces. I do not know from whence it came, but you drove a Shadow from Tir'shan, Ryndi. In any given lifetime, few have seen the Li'am'ra's Light. Thank you for protecting and purifying him." The mystic departed too quickly for the snow leopard to respond to her assessment.

V'sri'sar bless her, Ryndi thought, for she will not ask anymore of me. But I wonder what Tir'shan truly recalls and feels. I will have to let him decide if he wishes to confide in me, and that wait will be difficult.

Miri entered the room. The small cat took her place by Ryndi's bedside, her brow furrowed with worry. "Shall I arrange your pillows more to your liking, Li'am'ra? Perhaps I can send for some soup?"

Ryndi waved her hand in dismissal. "Miri, only one thing matters to me right now."

The tricolor Felinaria cocked her head quizzically. "Li'am'ra?"

"Did anyone enjoy my maypole?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Tell me everything then. Leave no detail out."

The snow leopard lay back against the mound of pillows on her bed, and soothed by the pleasant chatter of the young priestess, soon drifted back to sleep.

*****

A light breeze coming through the window hinted at the warmth that would come with the summer as the Li'am'ra observed the people in the plaza below. Shop keepers folded awnings; guards changed shift. The sultry music of the taverns drifted into her chamber, heralding the ascending pleasures of the night.

Abandoning the window, Ryndi crossed over to her writing desk, and the task that awaited. She reluctantly opened a silver box lined with velvet, and stared at the crystal horse it contained. "Who knew you would bear this burden, little one," she murmured in apology, still amazed by her recent discovery. She held the carving up to a candle. Serpentine darkness clouded its once clear form, and constantly twisted back on itself. "How do you find your new home, Sartren?" she asked. The Shadow within the crystal wheeled about in agitation.

She covered the horse with her hands, and began to recite prayers of purification. The object grew almost too hot to hold, and vibrated madly in her grasp.

With her silence, the crystal horse cooled. She held the carving back up to the candle. The Shadow had settled in one area. Had its color changed at all? No. It was still as grey as ever. With a shudder, she returned the object to its box, then closed the lid.

Love transforms all, but sometimes it takes a lifetime, Ryndi thought as she blew out the candle.