Page 4 of Dark Survivor (The Qaldreth Warriors #2)

Chapter Three

Whispers rippled over those gathered in the great hall.

That didn’t bode well. Nenn gritted his teeth, ignored those calling his name, and focused on Elder Qon’s request. He needed to find Dumis.

Spotting the male beside the central bonfire, he pushed through to reach him.

The older male stared into the flickering flames, his shoulders bowed.

He must have sensed Nenn’s presence, whipping his head up. “How bad is it?”

“He will heal,” Nenn said.

Dumis’s smile went from tentative to broad. He yanked Nenn into a crushing hug. ‘Thank you.” He glanced at those watching. “Do not pay them any heed. You have never harmed anyone or anything for personal gain.”

“I find the symbiotes’ silence on this matter alarming,” Nenn said, poking his soul.

Dumis frowned. “They have reason.”

Nenn’s shoulders jerked when a shiver slithered down his neck. “What is it?”

Dumis glanced at someone behind Nenn. “Elder Lama?”

The elder’s face softened. “Nenn, your father—”

“No,” he gasped, staggering back as if he could run from the news. “Why?” he wailed. “Why now?”

Dumis gripped Nenn’s arm. “He—”

Images blasted through Nenn, dropping him to his knees. The sheer agony of the lava consuming his father’s flesh and melting his bones lasted a minute, no more, but it was enough.

“Stop,” he cried out.

He’d caught a fleeting taste of the pain when Tugo’s foot had dipped into the river.

In the chaos afterward, the symbiotes hadn’t focused on it.

But a soul cleansing was to be experienced by all, to honor the person who’d outlived their usefulness.

And yet, when it happened, Nenn’s symbiotes hadn’t shared it. Saving it all for now.

Tears poured free even as his hearts ceased to beat, now lumps of grief weighing down his body until he could barely keep his head up. Someone lifted him, set him on a bench, then shoved a mug of nulci into his hand.

The hot wine, made from berries and herbs, hit his stomach like a kick to the head.

Hours ago, he’d lamented the state of his life.

Now, he had an injured friend, survived two banaari sightings, and lost his father.

He slammed the mug on the table and dipped his face between his knees to suck in deep breaths.

“He left you this…” Elder Lama looped father’s amulet over Nenn’s head.

It thumped against his chest. The warm and faceted rock, almost transparent with a hint of a yellow flame at its core, had been a gift from his mother when they’d first courted.

“And a nomination,” Dumis whispered.

Fresh tears stung Nenn’s eyes. “Family does not count.”

“Yes, they do, for a soul cleanser.” A suspicious sheen coated Elder Lama’s red eyes.

Nenn shook his head. “I wanted to leave, but not like this. Never—” He broke off to pin his chin to his chest. “Never like this,” he rasped, grief so crushing, he dared not move.

His wounds and sore muscles—the symbiotes had begun to heal. But this agony, as if every muscle had torn and sheets of stone pinned him to the spot, was beyond his capacity to bear.

“You have my nomination,” Elder Qon called, slicing through the crowd of blurred faces.

“And mine.” Kimgi smiled, crossing to loop her arm through Dumis’s.

“Then you shall have mine,” Tugo’s father said.

Nenn didn’t speak; his ability to care had abandoned him.

He was spared from any response when Dumis shoved a refilled mug into his hand with a whispered command to drink.

He did so, emptying it and relishing the familiar burn when it exploded heat in his core and numbed his mind and heart. Tomorrow…he would mourn.

A beat began like the steady thump of a great oobara’s heart.

More drums joined in. A bonfire’s flames flickered, reaching toward the cave’s ceiling.

His symbiotes bombarded him with images, memories peppered with his mother’s delicate face, with his own through the years until he’d reached malehood.

And it all was coated with a love so precious.

Tears slipped free, dripping onto his tunic.

Dumis dragged him to the fire and forced him to join arms with Panior to form a circle around the bonfire.

In unison, they danced, the beat pulsing within him while the wine clouded his vision.

Many hugged him, whispering their sorrow and sharing their admiration for his father while the symbiotes served as witnesses.

When the heat merged his tears with his sweat and made breathing difficult, he swiveled on his heel and left, staggering by rote to his home. The door was ajar, needing minimal effort to slide aside. His father had lost the strength to close it.

He stood on the threshold and gazed at the carved walls made smooth over the generations that had come before him.

Like Kimgi and Tugo’s home, a ledge with thick furs served as his bed.

Shelves above a dead fireplace held pots, mugs, garments, and weapons.

Benches were carved on either side of one corner for sitting and eating.

And a tall pot housed fresh water he had to fetch every morning from the underground river.

Silence, darkness, loneliness poured into him.

Gone was the warm welcome of his mother.

Lost was the steadfast existence of his father.

And he’d wanted to believe his father lived while Nenn traversed the stars.

He sprawled on top of the furs and stared at the venai stones painstakingly embedded in grooved slots.

The symbiotes replayed scenes from his day, showing Tugo hesitating, teetering, then leaping when he shouldn’t have.

They revealed Nenn’s desperation to save his friend, from carrying his heavy ass to descending into Habqus Abyss.

All was revealed.

And none of it mattered.

Days blurred. Dumis brought Nenn food he didn’t eat. Elder Qon checked on the injuries Nenn’s symbiotes were attending to and shared the progress of Tugo’s healing. Elder Lama informed Nenn he’d be traveling with the Ivoyans. When all this happened, what time or which day, he couldn’t say.

He rolled onto his side only to ease an ache in his back or to drink a ladle of water.

With his father’s soul cleansing, he’d hoped the symbiotes would reveal the true nature of his mother’s death.

They hadn’t. And perhaps they didn’t know.

He’d grown up understanding that what he did would be revealed to all; everyone guarded everyone, so to speak.

Whenever he and Tugo got into trouble, the tribe had so severely chastised them on their way home that Father hadn’t bothered to discipline them.

In a way, he had many fathers. He sat up, the realization soothing a tiny portion of his grief.

He had family even though they weren’t related by blood.

He gazed at his home, at the stillness of it, at how things sat where his father had left them and, in some cases, where his mother had…

Her dust-covered garment on the top shelf had remained untouched since her disappearance.

Pain crushed his chest so tight that he struggled to breathe.

He bolted, shoving the sheet out of the way to sprint up the carved steps. Many greeted him, but he didn’t stop. He needed the sky above him, a warm breeze on his face, the solidity of volcanic rock beneath his feet.

The suns were setting.

Heat traveled through his toes. He grimaced at his bare feet.

“Nenn,” Juirr said by way of greeting. “You cannot meet the Ivoyans like that.”

Nenn jerked back. “When—”

“This evening, when the moons touch the horizon, or so Elder Lama says.” Laec elbowed his brother. “I shall guard. Escort Nenn to the pools.”

Juirr nodded and tossed his spear at Laec who caught it from the air. With his arm thrown across Nenn’s shoulders, Juirr led him into the cave.

“But—” Nenn gazed at the sky with longing.

“You have our Giniiri honor to uphold,” Juirr was saying.

As much as Nenn had wanted a chance to travel off-world, losing his father had tainted his dreams. A season from now, yes, he’d embrace the chance to serve the Ivoyans. Now, not so much. It seemed…pointless.

Had he left with the Ivoyans last season, if he’d never come home, his father would have lived forever. Until he stepped onto Qaldreth. He slumped. There’d be no way to avoid grieving. He was foolish to try. A change in scenery might be what he needed.

“Bathe, dress, and eat.” Juirr shoved him toward the farthest pool, steam rising off the bubbling water. Alongside it sat a bar of soap and a stack of clean garments not his.

“And these?” Nenn asked, but Juirr had abandoned him.

He shrugged, stripped off garments that stank worse than a dead vibuy, then tested the water’s temperature with his big toe. It was too much to bear, even for a Giniiri used to heat. He hissed, then winced when he sank onto the carved ledge.

With the Ivoyan alderman’s arrival imminent, Nenn couldn’t waste hours. Laec and Juirr had been right to urge him to prepare himself. Should he pack? And if so, what? He had no idea what would be needed. He clutched the amulet around his neck. This, of course, he would take with him.

“I came to wish you Osnir’s blessings,” Panior said, squatting beside the pool.

The male was too perfect by any standard. His garments were clean and well-stitched. His orange-red hair, indicative of a Giniiri, looked combed. He was inches taller than Nenn, had prowess with sword, spear, and bow, and had outrun them all since they were young.

“May He bless you also,” Nenn said, as per their custom. “I must confess, I did not anticipate this…chance.”

Panior grinned. Even faced with disappointment at having to wait another solar cycle to leave this world, he behaved with honor. When all Nenn could hope for was to not bring shame upon their tribe.

“There is method to His blessings. I trust this will go well for you, Nenn.” He glanced over his shoulder at the hall. “My time will come. For now, I serve here.”

When he rose to leave, Nenn said, “Wait, do I pack anything?”