Tam'nýer-a'

(This is a thread happening in the past, a mere Tam'nýer—a’’n week before Baldassar Zûtran was killed, some 30 Earth years ago. Zara is 37 Earth years old, and Xandru a mere 15 Earth Years old.)

Walking with a soft step on the plush carpets, Zara peaked into Xandru’s room just a little, just to watch him sleep one more time as a child. Soon a man, she thought, and she sighed internally at the thought of the coming of age ceremony to follow in the morrow. She would not even be allowed to see him before his departure, and Baldassar will drop him off at the edge of the Trótskarrien sands south of the city.

She was one for tradition, and understood intellectually why it existed, and it was important for the Zûtrani especially to make certain that their men were men and not fearful boys when the time came to lead the family. Baldassar in particular had returned much changed and stronger and she was forced to admit that it had helped mature him faster. She smiled, remembering the boy he had been, how young they were both when they met on the way to the Temple.

But one whole Tam'nýer—a’’n day, alone in the desert with nothing but what he can himself carry, she could not ignore the gnawing of worry in her belly. Xandru was not Baldassar, she was forced to admit it to herself. It’s not that the boy was weak, instead he had a silent strength about him, and Zara thought he would come into his own with age. Baldassar was, well, a force of nature would have been the best description. Apparently, he reminded everyone of the one he had been named after, the founder of the family. Once they got to really know each other, Zara had been swept off her feet, and never looked back. But she knew perfectly well how demanding Baldassar could actually be with everyone, but especially with his own family, and the boy he was hoping to make into a great Head of Family someday.

She looked into the girls’ room next, finding Marija sleeping soundly a soft smile on her sweet face and Xanadia still awake and reading. No doubt another pirate adventure story. Because of the importance of the ceremony, the entire family had traveled to ZàÞça. Not many practiced this in the present times, but the Zûtrani kept with the old traditions and were proud of it. Xanadia had been a whirlwind of excitement on the ship, constantly moving and asking questions, and looking up and down, and playing the pirate. She had soon become the darling of the crew for the short few hours of the crossing, and over dinner she chatted with anyone who would listen to her about how great the sea was, and they should do this again, and why did it matter that she was a girl.

Baldassar encouraged her tomboyish tendencies out of amusement and because he remembered some old stories about the Zûtrani. All Zûtrani women were strong, but apparently there had been another one like Xanadia once, and she had been fearsome. Xandru had been silent, without a doubt thinking of his trials on the morrow and so the entire meal had been spent in pirate stories.

Though his eyes were closed Xandru was wide awake as the soft steps of his mother passed by his door. It was either his mother or Xanadia sneaking in to steal another one of his books in search for more tales of pirates. It did not matter who it was because he was meant to be focused on sleep anyway.

Of course he could not focus on anything but tomorrow morning. He knew he was prepared though he was not sure whether he got to pack his own bag or simply received one. Which was why he had spent part of the night drawing a small map of the region on his arm. He did not think he really needed it, having spent a good part of last month studying the deserts Trótskarr in the libraries of both Püertagœ and ZàÞça. Still, he did not plan on taking any chances.

He wondered whether his father would have prepared similarly. He sighed when the answer came to him. There was no way. He was Baldassar, namesake of the founder of the Zûtrani. His father was a hero who took charge without hesitation when Xandru's grandfather died. Even a young Baldassar must have been able to stare down his enemies in the Senate and in battle.

Thoughts raced through Xandru's head as he tried to keep telling himself he was prepared. After all he was not weak. He was not stupid. He just was not a man... He rolled on his side as the depressing thought seemed to weigh down his mind. Without realizing it he finally fell asleep. But his dreams were no escape from the fears that plagued him. He tossed and turned, muttering fearful incoherent words.

Young Xanadia was excited to be on the ship heading back home. She enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the city of Püertagœ but ZàÞça held a special place in her heart. On the ship, she would run from stern to bow several times telling the crew to prepare to be boarded and to hand over the booty. When Xanadia was not winning over the crew she was being stopped from leaning too far over the railing of the ship to stare into the ocean. The best part of the trip was spending time with her father, Baldassar. He would often regale her with tales about pirates. This voyage would be no different. Her eyes beamed as they spent the meal, on the ship, with her father, telling another pirate tale, to which Xanadia added in her own twists and flairs to the stories.

Xanadia was a little disappointed there was no pirate attacks on her journey home. However, she had snuck into her brother’s room earlier to snatch a book from him. She sat in her bed peering over the vellum pages. Her eyes drinking in and savoring the words written upon the pages. Fingers quietly turned each page as she finished the contents. The muscles in her face gave her a wide array of expression such as concern, worry, and excitement. Xanadia would stay up way too late reading the tale and ended up falling asleep on the book. Her body was slumped over and outside of the covers when she fell asleep.

"Xandru," she muttered in her sleep.

Xanadia was concerned for her brother's safety. The sailors on the ship had head stories about what her brother was going to go through. She had asked almost all of them to tell her the tales about what they knew. Xanadia learned that not all the young boys had come back from the desert. Some of the boys lost their minds in the heat of the desert. Others were prey to the fearsome beasts that roamed the land. She would dream about pirates coming to steal her brother away from her.

As Xandru stood alone the the desert in an Öðin shredded to the point of barely covering his limbs which were caked him dried blood and dirt. He held the hilt of a shattered sword hung limply from his hand as he stood before a horribly distorted image of the Dancing Maid of Žraăst'e who had been hunting him the whole day. He finally collapsed before her and accepted he would not make it to the night. She cackled at his action and drove a blade through his heart.

Xandru clutched his chest as he lurched forward in his bed. He shook violently both from fright and the cold sweat that clung to his body. He looked out the window as saw that although dawn had not come it was on its way. He took a deep breath and pulled the damp blanket from his body. If he could not be rested for the ritual he would at very least be prepared. And so he went to work.

The deserts began to shine in the distance as he neared completion of his preparations. Early on he realized that packing books was not an option so instead he had secretly removed dozens of important pages and paragraphs from books, arranging them into a loosely bound stack of papers that would be far lighter and require much less time to skim through. He only hoped that his survival book was not breaking some rule because he knew he had not memorized it completely yet.

Most of his pack was taken up by water and rations, though he knew he could never pack enough to sustain him for the whole day. That was where his bow came in. He had never been able to impress his father with his blade work, but the handful of times Baldassar had taken him hunting Xandru had felt pride shine in his father's smile. He cherished those memories and had practiced his archery skill alone in between the hunts hoping to impress him further each time. Since his father was far more interested in passing on his swordplay to Xandru rarely felt that he made his father proud.

Xandru still strapped a shortsword to his side in spite of his insecurities and when he went through to inspect himself in a mirror he was quite surprised. For an instant he thought he might look like his father had back in the day. This momentary belief in himself was soon overshadowed by the thought that he would actually have to use his blade out there. He let out a sigh, deflating and losing his noble posture.

He checked and double checked his pack only to find that the one book he had planned to take for some entertainment and inspiration was missing. Of course, he knew precisely where to look because it was a history of the Zûtrani that did not skip over the unsavory years involving piracy. It also painted the most realistic picture of his ancestors, letting him feel like even if his father never erred others before him had.

He stole into his sisters’ room quietly, smiling warmly when he saw Xanadia in a restless dream clutching the very book he had planned to take. It occurred to him that maybe she needed it more than he would. It might help her to know that Zûtrani men never failed the ritual. And so rather than stealing the book attempted to gently tuck her in, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Before attempting to leave he also peaked on on Marija whose eyes were wide open and focused on him. He suppressed a laugh as he gently stroked her cheek. As a baby Xanadia would have screamed her head off if awakened, at least as far as he could remember although he may have just been remembering the bad parts. Still Marija was by all accounts a sweet and quiet child. As long as she was contained in a crib and not crawling around causing trouble.

The waiting was the true torture, thought Zara. Meals and family discussions and trying to comfort both Xanadia who had an imagination too vivid sometimes and Marija whose empathetic nature had picked up on the anxious tense mood of the household. Why did the testing have to take so long? But deep in her heart, she knew why, and she tried to have faith in both her husband and her son. She did have faith in both. Truly she did. Yet, she still prayed to the Goddess that Xandru be returned safe and whole to her.

For anyone watching, Baldassar seemed the picture of calm and poise and confidence, and Zara tried to match his attitude to the best of her abilities. This had been her story for the last twenty Earth years or so, ever since Baldassar and her knew that they would always be together, come what may. The Zûtrani had such fire in their souls …. Fire that Zara could only strive to match herself.

This was how life was meant to be lived, bold and fearless and wholly larger than anything else. The Zûtrani were a force of nature unto themselves, and Baldassar … he was the first and the best of them. And also the last of them, but for Xandru … a quiet voice in a corner of her mind reminded her. The Zûtrani parents had perished at sea, and Zara was not wholly certain it had been storms. The family had some shadier dealings, and had taken some risks, and the word was that other powers were rising in the world. But Zara would not think dark thoughts on this day, she refused.

Xandru was a capable young lad, she had no doubt about that. She had watched him carefully, much more than his father. He prepared. He was careful, not brash, not loud, but steady and strong enough. He was finding his feet. Baldassar’s manner was not his own, certainly, but where her husband was upset not to see a copy of himself – or at least that’s what she thought sometimes – Zara saw her own father. Wise, silent, and somewhat ruthless. Xandru would be fine, he would be just fine …

Xandru left the crib and took a moment to look back on his little siblings. He let out a deep breath feeling like this was the last time he would see them. Like even when he returned he would no longer be their brother, but a stranger. Was that what becoming a man meant? Xandru exited hesitantly and stopped himself from taking another look back.

The halls were empty and as he passed his parents room he had an urge to see his mother again. They had said their goodbyes and she had acted as though it would be a fun little trip for him. The bluff faltered when she asked if he knew what to pack and hung on his every word as he described his plan. She could not help him pack but he could tell she was desperate to do something for him. He had asked if she could lay out some zlytnoki for him when he returned. It was a spur of the moment lie to make her feel useful, but he had realized it would actually be quite nice to have something to look forward to on the journey.

The daylight was on its way when he reached the entrance hall where his father waited. Neither of them were surprised by the other being early. For a moment it felt like one of the hunts the two got up early for, but the somber face of his father quickly suppressed the joyful thought. "Ready?" Baldassar asked. Xandru gave a solitary nod and they departed without speaking.

Initially the long walk to the outskirts of the city seemed to drag on endlessly, causing a deeper dread of the trek through the desert. When the desert actually came into view time seemed to sprint by and Xandru's heart raced. It had all seemed like there was meant to be some kind of signal for the journey to began but instead his father simply stopped walking. Xandru timidly approached his side.

Baldassar looked on into the desert, seeming to see something that Xandru could not. After a long moment he glanced down at his son. "Go on."

Xandru had wanted to say something, anything to his father before departing, but instead his body simply took him into the desert. After he had walked a short distance he looked back. Baldassar was already walking back into the city. He was standing tall, taking long purposeful steps as he left the desert. Xandru's eyes welled with tears, but he fought them back and turned away, striding determinedly into the desert that was now aflame with the light of dawn.

Zara wasn’t a woman prone to fretting in general. Rather, she had a certain detached air about her, which also manifested during any confrontations. Her face blanked out and her eyes darkened even more, and not even Baldassar was able to guess what she had on her soul, if she didn’t want to share herself right then. It was only later, alone, that Zara allowed herself to feel … really feel ... anything painful. Positive emotions were for the public, she always said. Passions, courage, joy, generosity, gratefulness, those she had been taught to show. Not the envy, anger, or fear. Those were her faults, and not to be displayed to others.

But in the privacy of her own room, after Xanadia and Marija finally fell asleep with a hundred reassurances that Xandru would be well and back soon, Zara allowed her mask to crumble. She would not lie to herself, at least. At least that. And so she took a long look at herself in the mirror, and her eyes welled. She was worried. She pretended there was nothing to be concerned about, but she was afraid herself. She felt such a fraud. Fitting, perhaps, for one such as herself.

She watched the way the two suns shone bright over the desert in the distance, and tried to imagine where Xandru may be right now. Had he packed enough water or food? Did he know to choose his clothes properly? She had seen the torn pages of the books he had defaced and had said nothing to Baldassar at the moment. He would see soon enough, and there would be a reckoning when Xandru came back, but Zara would gladly replace an entire Zûtrani library if that meant that her son returned safe and whole. Had she been that worried for Baldassar?

I was not, she realized with a sigh. Her young self, unmarked by pain and loss, thought that the world was theirs to conquer. It was in a way, and she never doubted him. But is it right that I should doubt my son? Xandru was different, and after Baldassar’ parents had died, a shipwreck on a sunny day, Zara had become slightly more paranoid. Her husband may not believe her, or rather he didn’t want to acknowledge it to her, but the Zûtrani had made some enemies.

The desert extended endlessly on and only careful studying of the suns showed that any time was passing as Xandru trudged through the sands of Trótskarr. Once ZàÞça had finally faded away the only sign that his surroundings had changed was the trail of footsteps behind him that was gently being swept away by the winds. The light dancing at the edge of the horizon gave the illusion that he might see something other than the sea of sand, but for the bulk of the time before his first rest there was endless nothing. He had passed a fragmented skeleton, but he could not tell what the beast was. He hoped it was a beast.

His first rest had involved some scraps of meat that would go bad if he did not eat them early in his trip. He had hoped they would be a nice treat, but a gust of wind had coated them in sand as he unwrapped them. It did not stop him from eating them, but the gritty texture roughed up his already dry mouth and throat. With his cloak covering his face he attempted to get some sleep after only a mouthful of water. Sleep never came and rather than wasting his time, he returned to the long trek. He would sleep when he was tired. As he got up the light dancing on his footprints cast them in a humanoid shape for just a moment. They faded in and out of existence, so he just continued on too tired to realize that his footsteps at that distance were likely to have been brushed away by the wind.

Several times he was excited to see the oasis on the horizon, only to see it vanish before his eyes. It was nearing the end of the morning when he first saw hints of an actual oasis. His supply of water was not running too low due to careful rationing, but his food would have only lasted a little longer. It had been a calculated risk bringing far more water than food on his trip to Makŭs-vibûm but it seemed to have paid off. There was still a good deal of day left when he collapsed on the lush grasses with an aching body and an empty food bag. He crawled into the shade of a tree and properly fell asleep for only the second time, not paying attention to the shadows dancing across the horizon.

Zara smiled again at her daughters. A good sleep and she was much more herself and strong again, enough to quell any doubts and fears which may be expressed by Xanadia, who had a too vivid imagination sometimes. More than a few times she had to redirect the conversation. Poor Marija, little as she was, was picking up fast and had even started to cry once, asking for Xandru.

She cut up a piece of Zlytnoki for the little one, and the rest for Xanadia and herself. Coming to ZàÞça was good for that at least, as she thought of the Rus–lim' tree she had planted after her marriage and which now had grown enough to bear the sweet juicy fungus. Not that her children were deprived of anything in the metropolis either, with the Zûtrani being part of the Greater Families. But Zara occasionally missed ZàÞça and the carefree air she associated with the old city which had her Goddess’ blessing. Except that now, she thought, I wish we were back in Püertagœ, safe and sound, and not here waiting for the day to pass to see if my son is still alive and whole.

Baldassar was not with them, as he had discovered several books with the pages torn, understood immediately what Xandru had done, and after a few chosen words proceeded to close himself off in the library to assess the extent of the damage. Zara expected him to emerge for the last meal before sleep and not before, and she was rather happy to have him out of her hair for the moment rather than hear any ranting about precious books. It will come soon enough and with her own temper being short she was not looking forward to that moment. Hopefully Marija at least would be asleep by then.

Not that fighting was a regular occurrence between Zara and Baldassar, but they both had a temper. Zara had been mindful not to expose the children to anything too negative, but she had a suspicion that her efforts had been in vain and that, at the very least Xandru had heard something on several occasions. She sighed, feeling like a bad mother. She had let Baldassar take the lead with Xandru and she wasn’t extremely happy with the result, but at the same time she agreed with her husband that the boy should not grow up hiding in her skirts. Having children was … more difficult than she thought.

Xanadia woke up and glanced at the book still underneath her. The first thing she noticed was the blanket wrapped around her. Was it her mother who came in to do this? That was possible, but her brother, Xandru was also an option. Sitting up in her bed and her hands rubbed her face along with her eyes to fully wake up. Her eyes stared blankly at the wall in front of her. The book was just sitting on her lap.

“Xandru,” she said quietly to herself.

With a small shake of her head she shifted her body to the edge of the bed. Her feet hung off the side but did not touch the stone flooring just yet. There was a plush red carpet over the floor. With a quick movement she was off her bed and standing on the floor. Xanadia had moved the book to hug it close to her chest. Soft footfalls would fall flat against the stone walls as Xanadia made her way to her mother’s side. Xanadia passed by the library to see the doors closed which made the young girl scrunch her brow. After another few minutes, Xanadia would find her mother cutting up some Zlytnoki. Her small hands would reach out to take some of the delectable fruit and suck on.

“Will Xandru be fine?”

Xanadia wanted the reassurance from her mother. The young girl knew her brother was as prepared as he could be for his task. He would make sure to give it his all. Xandru would not want to abandon his adorable little sisters. Xanadia had faith that he would return to tell her all about his trials and challenges.

Xandru had been asleep for sometime when the fluttering of wings startled him into consciousness. He blinked rapidly forcing away the first calm dream he had had in the desert. Apparently a flock of Gaizhors had been resting in the branches above him. He watched in wonder as the birds took off, swooping playfully through the desert sky. A smile graced his chapped lips as he looked upon the flock of speckled birds. The descriptions of the little birds did not do them justice even in the daylight. His heart swelled as a story his parents had read to him came to mind. The birds were meant to be associated with companionship and the unbreakable ties that bind family even at great distance.

He was about to give thanks to Nue when he heard the bushes behind rustle. It only took a moment to realiz the birds had been frightened away by an unwelcome visitor. Ãokv'kele trundled through the tree line behind him. Descriptions from a book on Trotskarr fauna flooded his mind as he jumped up and locked eyes with the stout creature. It was a female judging by the tusks and he knew any female that might be defending its young would be fierce simply from seeing his own mother in action. They squared off with each other and Xandru slowly reached for his blade.

“Will Xandru be fine?” She smiled at Xanadia reassuringly. “He’ll be back before you know it, don’t worry about him, Xandru is a man now.” Assuming he makes it, a traitorous thought tried to sneak in, but Zara tossed it out of her mind with a small shake of her head. Then, looking at her oldest daughter, she had an idea. “Are you worried about him, Xani?” Not waiting for a response, she smiled and kneeled next to her daughter, giving her a hug and kissing her cheek. “I shall teach you a trick to help Xandru, with the assistance of the Goddess. I know I haven’t taught you anything yet, but maybe it’s time for this little thing.”

Taking Xanadia’s small hand into her own she stood and walked towards the garden and the fresh air, guiding the little girl with her. They stepped outside, although Zara kept an eye on Marija, who tended to disappear if left to her own devices. “Feel the breeze? This is the Goddess’ breath caressing your skin, her own embrace, but also much more than that.” Kneeling down again, she opened her palm, inviting Xanadia to do the same, and blew a kiss into the air. “For Xandru, so that he may feel our love wherever he is, and be stronger for it. The Goddess will help carry our kisses and our love to him, and the wind will caress his face and ruffle his hair and he’ll hear your laughter.”

Xanadia was worried about her brother. That was only natural in her young mind. He always looked out for her. The books he found for her were always a treat and an adventure. Xanadia was not sure what she would do if anything happened to her brother. She pushed the thoughts aside for now. More pressing matters needed her attention like finishing the book in her arm during her free time. There was nothing she could do about her brother except send him her love.

Her mother’s larger hand eclipsed her own smaller hand as they walked towards the garden. Xanadia looked around the garden, seeing all of the flowers and trees. Various colors danced The gentle breeze caressed her skin. Her mother’s words reverberated in the back of her mind. The Goddess would caress and kiss Xandru like it was doing for the two of them. She held up up her small hand, palm upwards, and follow her mother’s instructions.

“We love you, Xandru. May Bók-T'ak keep you in her favor,” she said, giving a small laugh.

Xanadia smiled back towards her mother after performing the small ritual. She held the book up after sticking the remainder of the Zlytnoki fruit in her mouth. Xanadia would swallow the fruit before opening her mouth to speak again. She looked up towards her mother with small traces of a smile lingering on her lips.

“Will you read with me, mother?”

The Ãokv'kele took a step closer as Xandru’s fingertips touched the hilt of his blade. It was not going to do much against the beast’s hide if it charged, but his options were limited. He tentatively took a step to the side as the Ãokv'kele took another step closer. It eyed him for a long moment before it let out a low whimpering sound. It’s steps were cautious as it approached Xandru and although he kept his hand tight on his blade he did not remove it from its sheath. He noticed as he continued to side step it that the Ãokv'kele was loaded down with several sacks hanging from a saddle.

The wind changed direction and Xandru was nearly knocked backwards by the wretched scent of decay emanating from Ãokv'kele. He let out a hacking cough and fought back bile for a moment. By the time he was done the Ãokv'kele was only a few feet from him. It stared at him with pleading eyes as it let out a second whine. Did it just need help with the sacks? Xandru thought as he pulled up his head wrapping to cover his mouth. As if the creature read his mind, it turned slightly to show off the saddle and the leaking bag that was letting loose the stink.

“A-alright… I’ll get rid of it.” He whispered, holding out both his hands palm up as he approached the beast of burden. It was surprising to Xandru how calm it was, but in hindsight if it had a saddle it must have been used to the people of ZàÞça. The odor only became more pungent when Xandru finally reached out and gently patted the whining creature. “Shh… it’s gonna be alright.” He said as he choked back another dry heave.

He cringed slightly at the noise of his blade leaving its sheath but the Ãokv'kele did not seem bothered. It may not have even heard it over its own whining. Xandru reached over and slowly began to cut through the rope that kept the sack in place. It took a moment but with a last slash the bag tumbled down and burst with a wet thud. Rancid meat poured out of the sack and its odor quickly pierced the thin rag he was using to cover his nostrils. He quickly tour it aside as the bile finally erupted from his stomach. He staggered away from the sack and threw up several times behind a tree.

During his second to last wave of vomit he felt something nudging his back. Once he had finished his business he turned back to see the Ãokv'kele staring up at him with its giant eyes. It seemed quite happy, but Xandru had little experience with the creatures so he was misreading its body language. It opened its mouth wide and licked him from his chest to the top of his head, knocking down his hood. Apparently he had read the situation perfectly.

“Will you read with me, mother?” How could she ever say no? Zara smiled and nodded, petting and smoothing her daughter’s wild hair, and they went back inside to Marija. “I will read to both of you, Xani. You can explain to your sister what the story is, but remember what I told you before.”

After a particular gruesome pirate story involving much torture and blood and which had made Marija cry, Zara had taken Xanadia to the side and had explained to her very in-depth why it wasn’t a good thing to scare the little Marija, who may grow up to hate and even fear pirates and the sea as a result. Hopefully, she wouldn’t remember the incident, but Xanadia needed to be more mindful and attentive in the future. She was after all, the big sister in the family and the Zûtrani always took care of each other, whatever happened.

Zara had taken great care with Xandru and Xanadia to pass that message. Marija too would learn, once she was old enough. The Zûtrani took care of their own. No tattle-telling. Both Xandru and Xanadia were equally punished if they fought. After all, once Zara and Baldassar died, the children will only have each other, and the family had enough enemies and needed to stay strong and united. Maybe she would need to reinforce the message soon, but for the moment Zara was more preoccupied to comfort the two girls, and take their thoughts away from Xandru, especially Xanadia’s, who had quite a wild imagination.

She sat on a sofa, one girl to each side, and started reading from the book. “It was a time before the great metropolis of Püertagœ was built, a time when ZàÞça was the center of the world and the Gods were still alive … the world was teeming with magic.” And as she read the story, her own mind cleared. Marija fell asleep soon enough, while little Xani, eyes wide, was listening as if she wanted to remember every little detail of the old tale, forever.

For a short time Xandru felt that he was the luckiest man in the desert. The Ãokv'kele's packs were loaded with supplies that easily replenished his own and might be enough for the rest of the day. Happening upon the Ãokv'kele had been a blessing from the goddess, though when he found the previous owner it did add a darker layer to his luck.

It had been quite excited to find a human apparently, but after it was done nuzzling Xandru it whined until he followed it further into the oasis. Compared to the barren desert the oasis was like living in a natural palace with the Ãokv'kele as his servant. Unfortunately, the smell of rancid meat returned along with a new sound: running water. "The tears..." Xandru whispered as he followed the ecstatic beast.

They arrived in a small clearing buzzing with insects. Bits of a corpse were scattered throughout the clearing, though the better part of a torso and a head lay in the center. They skeletal portions remained intact while only bits and pieces of the skin and organs clung to it. A portion of the chin showed that it was likely a man or a Z'sa'Ză-'Bäa judging by the hair on the face.

The Ãokv'kele let out a sorrowful moan and Xandru gently pet the beast, hoping to calm it down. After a time the Ãokv'kele settled at the edge of the clearing while Xandru investigated further. There were some supplies he could use, but no real means of identifying the poor gentlemen. The only solace Xandru could take was that the man would have died long before he was ripped to shreds. It was the tempting sound of the tears that had been this man's downfall. Worse yet when going through the supplies Xandru saw that there was plenty of water left on the Ãokv'kele.

Finished with his work he lead the Ãokv'kele in the direction of the running water until he finally saw the deadly pool of tears. To be safe, Xandru placed a small bowl of water before the Ãokv'kele to test whether it would prefer that water or the tears. According to the stories the Ãokv'kele adored the tears and so when it turned its nose up at the water and dove into the pools for a drink, Xandru felt safe to drink. Again he sent his thanks to the goddess before taking a good long drink of water. He had a nice time finally drinking his fill and enjoying some of the Ãokv'kele's food while it played at the edge of the pool of tears. It would be the only good memory Xandru had of his ritual.

It was early in the night when Xandru stumbled out of the desert. He was wearing thick leathers he had not left ZàÞça with and bore the cheap dangerous blade of a sell sword. A hastily carved walking stick was helping to prop him up since his right leg was clearly in bad shape. Those who saw him up close would be most struck by the deep, dirty cut over his left eye barely hidden by the hood he wore. He was quiet as he made his way home, offering only a few words in a hollow raspy voice to those who questioned him on his way to his family.

Xani gave a roll of her eyes at her mother’s reminder. She could not help it that her younger sister, Marija, burst into tears after she explained what the story was talking about. Xani was just making sure that her sister fully understood what was going on in the story. She did not see what was wrong with painting a clear picture. However, she wanted to hear the story so young Xani promised to tone down her explanations.

As the story began, Xani was sitting next to her mother. Her legs were folder underneath her on the couch. The story started out like any other, with her mother setting the scene. Xani glanced over to see how her sister was taking the story. It was important she paid attention to know when to step into to explain things to her younger sister. Her eyes were filled with wonder as the images filled her mind. Xani could picture each and every God/Goddess. While it may not be accurate to how they actually looked, this was how she imagined them. Her small fist clenched the fabric of her outfit as the story intensified. The sound of the door opening startled Xani, causing her to jump in her seat.

“What was that sound, mother? Do you think it Xandru?” she asked eyes darting towards the sound.

Without much thought, Xani dashed from the couch towards the doorway. Her eyes widened and mouth fell open at the sight that greeted her. Her brother was standing there looking like something out of the stories she read and heard. He was bleeding from a gash on his eye and was limping pretty bad.

“Xandru!”

Xanadia rushed towards her brother. She was happy to see he was alive but concerned for his welfare. Questions burned in her mind. What happened to her brother? Did he see a lot of action? How was the trial? She wanted to ask him all of those questions as her mother joined her.

“What happened, Xandru?”

“What happened, Xandru?” Little Xani was gone like the wind, and her question made Zara realize that her son was really back, and maybe not in a very good shape. “Xani! Get to your room, now.” Zara herself picked up her youngest, making sure she wouldn’t be able to see the hallway, just in case she woke up and Xandru was indeed in a poor shape, and entrusted the precious sleeping toddler to one of the maids knowing she would be safe and away before hurrying to see to Xandru. He was indeed in a sorry state, but what concerned her most was the deep and dirty cut over his left eye. The leg was likely to heal, the cut was much more dangerous.

Zara, however, was not a woman to panic. She rushed orders left and right, sending for a healer, sending for clean water, soap and clean cloths, someone to make certain Xandru’s bed was ready to receive him, some food and drink, and finally someone to get Baldassar from wherever he had ensconced himself. She would asked Xanadia, but her daughter was still so very young. She sighed and ran a hand through her dark locks, wondering how long before they were turned white by her children. To be fair, Marija hadn’t done anything yet, except disappear a couple of times when nobody was looking. Zara had been furious with the maid that let that happen and had immediately dismissed her after the second incident. A toddler should not be able to outsmart a grown female, and certainly could not be allowed to wander in the garden by herself.

She sighed, and repeated her request. “Xani, go to your room now. Please.”

The house had been relatively quiet as he entered, but Xanadia's voice echoed from the far end of the hallway. Her little footsteps soon followed and then he saw her for the first time in so long. He struggled forward to her before practically falling to his knees in front of her. His lips split in the best smile he could manage and he kissed her forehead, he lips likely feeling rough and jagged on her skin. "I'll tell you later." He croaked out slowly. His attention turned to his mother when she spoke. He pushed himself up using his stick then offered it to Xanadia. "This is made from a tree by the Makŭs-vibûm. It's yours if you go look up the Makŭs-vibûm in a book. I'll tell you what they're really like when I'm done." His eyes had stayed on his mother's, apparently agreeing that Xanadia needed to leave before he spoke.

"Rest and food can wait. I need to speak with father." He practically whispered as he stood there, slightly crooked without his stick. It seemed painful, but he stood up straight as he closed the gap between himself and his mother. "We're in danger..." He whispered, his hand gripping her shoulder tight to emphasize his point before he headed further down the hall to where he assumed his father would be. A slight trail of dust and sand followed him with each painful step, but he was not going to show it. He was meant to go into the desert a boy and return a man. Instead he had returned as a wretch, a shell of what he had been. And he blamed his father.

Xanadia did not want to go to her room. She wanted to stay there to hear her brother’s tales. A small scowl formed as she thought to protest and argue with her mother. She considered herself old enough to be present for whatever was going to be said. Before an argument could break out her brother caught her attention. Her small hand reached out to take the item from her brother. His kiss felt rough against her forehead.

“You promise, Xandru. I want to hear all about it later,” she said earnestly.

Xanadia would take the item from the Makŭs-vibûm and head to her brother’s room. She did not have any books about the Makŭs-vibûm. After a few minutes, of searching, she found the right book. Very carefully she would take the book from her brother’s room. Xani stopped in the hallway and considered sneaking back to listen in to her mother and brother’s conversation. However, she trusted her brother to stay true to his words. Her feet carried her across the stone floor and towards her own room. She sat down on the bed and began to pour through the book for the information her brother tasked her to find.

“I wonder what they are talking about,” she mumbled to herself as her eyes read over the words.

Her eyes drifted towards the doorway as her mind turned with all manner of imaginations about what happened to Xandru.