32. Maggie

Chapter 32

Maggie

One Month Later

A month had passed since we left the Veerenad city. Two of Nevarn’s males flew us to where Davon’s clan was living at one of the oases, leaving us to return to finish the treaty negotiations. Talia couldn’t come with us; she insisted she wanted to make sure the Veerenads didn’t take advantage of the Zuldruxians, though I was confident Valdar wouldn’t do such a thing. Still, my sister was savvy. If anyone could get Valdar to relent on one thing or another, it was her.

We promised we’d see each other soon, and time had a way of speeding by quickly.

The Browze Clan welcomed me with wide arms, and in no time, I felt as if I’d lived with them forever. But the clan was small, and it was clear that while we could continue our migratory life in the desert, we all needed more.

Hence all of us riding across the desert on mundreks, large, tan-colored creatures that only vaguely resembled camels. Their rocking jog swept us across one dune after another until we reached the edge and glided into the welcome coolness of the forest.

Warriors from the Celedar Clan dropped down from the trees around us, welcoming smiles on their faces.

“We’ll take care of your mundreks,” one of them said. “Please continue along the path. We’ll join you and guide you to the home of our clan.”

We walked hand in hand along the forest trail with our clan members around us. It was so cool here when compared with the harsh and hot, though beautiful, desert I'd lived in for the prior month.

Sunshine filtered through the canopy high above, casting dappled light on the alien landscape. I gaped at the enormous trees looming around us, their purple trunks twisting skyward, speckled with iridescent flecks of gold and blue. Broad leaves fluttered overhead, a shimmering canopy that danced with each gust of wind.

Alien birds swooped through the branches, their feathers a vibrant blend of colors that shifted with the light. They called to each other with high-pitched trills, creating a melody of sounds through the forest. Insects flitted about, their translucent wings catching the sunlight and reflecting it in tiny bursts of rainbow light.

Davon squeezed my hand, a gesture of reassurance and shared awe. He'd been here before, though he didn't remember much of that time.

Aizor's sword rode in a sheath on his spine. I'd admired the crystal blade, marveling at how it could cut through almost anything without shattering. He couldn't wait to give it back and to tell Aizor he was sorry, but the acceptance I'd hoped he'd find had begun to sink into his bones. Maybe he'd never completely forgive himself. Maybe he'd carry this burden until the day he'd died. But with my love, he was beginning to see that we all made mistakes, that we all deserved forgiveness.

It was coming, and I'd be with him when he finally realized it for himself.

We continued walking for hours, the path winding deeper into the heart of the forest. The cool air carried a sweet, earthy scent, a mix of blooming flowers and rich soil.

Finally, we emerged into a clearing where a few Zuldruxian warriors stood guard with wooden spears in their hands. Behind them loomed a tree bigger than any we'd seen so far. Its massive trunk stretched wide; the bark etched with intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with life.

Our guide, a tall, bulky warrior with sharp eyes, approached the tree and placed his palm on its surface. The bark split down the middle with a soft, murmuring rumble, revealing a chamber inside. Warm light spilled out, inviting us to enter.

“Welcome to the heart of the Celedar Clan,” the warrior said, waving for us to go inside. “You'll soon meet our god, and she will also welcome you.” Pausing, he frowned. “Do you enjoy tea?”

“Tea?” I asked, shaking my head at the odd question. “I do.”

“Good, good.” His smile bloomed. “Our god loves tea, and she's sure to offer it to you.” His voice held a note of pride as he led us into the tree, leaving the vibrant forest behind.

I marveled at the smooth interior walls, the intricate carvings, and the glowing orbs of light floating overhead. The air was filled with a gentle hum, a rhythm that seemed to resonate with the very core of the tree. Davon and I exchanged a glance, our eyes reflecting the same wonder and anticipation.

We were guided through the small chamber and out into the heart of the tree empty except for a tall, glassy chair with a person sitting on the smooth surface. The ceiling arched high overhead, and I gaped at it a moment before my gaze was pulled to the person this clan called a god. She rose, and my breath got caught in my throat. Tall and slender, she had limbs like the roots of a tree, her hair spiking up on the top. Her face had a smooth flatness and while she had eyes, they didn’t blink, telling me she might not have eyelids. No nose either. A slash of a mouth without lips completed her face.

“Welcome,” she said, though she didn’t speak with words like me or in my mind like I’d heard some of the “gods” did. Her voice was a lilting tune that floated through the air. When it reached me, it somehow sunk in, and I could understand her. “I’m Helene.”

Such an odd name for an alien tree god, but Davon had explained that one of the other women had named her.

“I know you can’t remain long, but I do hope you’ll join me for tea.” Her limb stretched out to a table holding a clay pot and mugs.

I took in her dress that was blue on the bottom and gold on the top, like the tree around us. It didn’t move or shift on her body but appeared to be fused to her form.

We perched on stools, and she poured tea.

Pausing, her head tilted. “There they are.”

The door opened and a Zuldruxian warrior and a human woman strode inside.

“Just in time,” the woman said, rushing toward me with a big smile.

I stood, and she wrapped her arms around me, lifting me up before placing me back on my feet.

“I’m Kerry, and this big guy I adore more than the world is Nevarn, my mate.” She waved to Nevarn standing protectively behind her clutching a wooden spear that I’d bet anything was as unbreakable as Aizor’s crystal sword. “Nevarn’s traedor of the Celedar Clan.”

He nodded my way and flashed me a tusky smile before bracing Davon’s forearms. “Welcome, friends.”

“Nevarn,” Davon said, his voice tight with emotion. I’d told him he’d find friends here, though I was determined to make it happen if the branch of friendship wasn’t extended his way. “Thank you. ”

“Have your tea,” Nevarn said. “And then I’ll guide you to the Indigan Clan where everyone else is waiting. We’ll reach there in time to join everyone at the central fire.”

I’d heard about this fire, how the clans would gather around it in the evening to share stories, songs, and to laugh. I couldn’t wait to see the crystal structures the Indigan people lived in, let alone the mushroom-shaped homes the Ulistar Clan called their own.

We drank tea, but soon, it was time to leave.

After Helene gave each of us a hug, so odd when she appeared to be made of solid wood, we left for the Indigan Clan.