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Topiara - Chapter 52
The days began to have a familiar tone to them. Lyara would eat lightly in the morning after choking down her dose of medicine from Jilan's little pouch, and then she would resign herself to walking at a slow and steady pace while Jilan and Yiren moved ahead, gathering fruit and water and chu'ichi fluff. The trio would stop and rest twice over the course of the day, both times to allow for Jilan to give her yet another dose of the medicine and then wait a while before consuming fruit to give them all energy to continue.
Topiara had resumed its troubling monologue in the back of her head, the tone of warning and alarm growing sharper and more distressing as the days wore on. And during this time, she was forced to watch as Jilan and Yiren seemingly grew closer and more friendly with each other – joking and laughing together while they were off the woven path gathering supplies. Lyara's mood steadily darkened as she was forced to watch from the safety of the path, completely prevented by her injury and the effect of the medicine from clambering under the railing at the edge and joining the others. When they were together, she barely spoke to Jilan except to complain about the bitter taste of the medicine.
Jilan bore with her mood stoically, knowing that she was chafing under the enforced inactivity and struggling with her distrust of Yiren. He, on the other hand, was coming to have a better appreciation for the sparkling wit of the young Vri'ia'ani woman and her way of understanding humor. He loved Lyara desperately, and he wished that he could have the brave optimist he'd come to know her to be back again – but her mood was beginning to become an obstacle for him. He tried one evening to broach the subject with her and was rudely and brusquely reminded that she HURT.
Rodayn was beginning speak in the back of his mind in much the same way Lyara had once described what Topiara was doing for her. There was a growing danger, he understood now – but what from was kept hidden from him.
Yiren watched as the bond between one i'ilim and the other stretched thinner and thinner. On the one hand, she hurt to see the suffering that the growing distance between Jilan and Lyara was causing the both of them. On the other, however, she was beginning to get accustomed to having Jilan all to herself – more or less – and discovering what he was like when not a part of an i'ilimi'i. Despite herself, she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that she felt a bond for the yellow-hair herself – and if Lyara couldn't strengthen the bonds between her and her i'ilim, then perhaps Jilan would consider Yiren one day. Her nights were spent dreaming of what life could be like in I'ilansru'an with Jilan and the tawny-haired child they would raise.
Just as it seemed as if there was nothing on the horizon but the coming explosion between the two women, Yiren had wandered ahead on the path and let out a happy shout. "Tala'anru'an!" she shouted, pointing to a sigil that had been long since carved into the bark of a tree sustaining the path. "I'm home!"
Without even thinking of the others she left behind, Yiren took off as if her feet had grown wings, heading instinctively in the direction of the tree that had given her shelter and a home in her youth. Only once did she hear what she thought could have been a voice calling her name, but she gave it no mind as she scampered forward.
"I think we've fulfilled our promise," Lyara remarked to Jilan as he walked back down the path to her side. "She's home."
"So it seems," Jilan agreed with a shrug. "I'll miss her."
"You would," Lyara snapped and resumed her labored and steady steps forward. "I think sometimes you wished that you were i'ilim with her rather than me."
"Lya…" Jilan's voice clearly expressed the sting of her words.
"Don't 'Lya…' me," she continued. "I've seen the way you two dance out on the branches, laughing and joking, while I'm trapped back here."
Jilan reached for and grabbed Lyara's arm in a tight grasp. "It isn't that way, and you know it."
"Do I?" she retorted and wrenched her arm from his grasp. "What am I to think?"
"Maybe that rather than trying to make the rest of us miserable because you hurt, you could try to just be a part of the group," Jilan snapped back, his patience with her nearing its end. "You've done nothing but complain for the last two days – and in some ways, you remind me of the kind of person I heard you and Farranby reminiscing about once or twice. I think her name was Dinia…"
Lyara's hand flashed and slapped him hard across the cheek. "How dare you compare me to…"
"To what?" Jilan demanded, truly angry now. "A woman who did nothing but complain? Who refused to recognize when others were trying to help her?"
Lyara was frozen with fury. "Do you REALLY see me that way?"
"Under normal circumstances, no," Jilan admitted, "but for the last few days, since we left Chi'uchi, yes."
"I HURT!" she shouted at him.
"And you want to make sure I hurt too, so I don't enjoy life too much while you're miserable – is that it?" he shouted back at her.
Lyara put her hands to her temples. Topiara was now screaming in her mind, the note of warning and alarm raised to a fever pitch. "Stop it!" she begged and then closed her eyes and screamed, "Stop screaming at me!"
Jilan stood and stared at her as if he'd never truly seen her before – and his eyes slowly hardened. "You said once that we had something to do together," he stated slowly, softly and coldly. "I promised you I'd see through this quest, and I won't go back on my word. But," he drew himself up to his full height, "when the quest is finished, so are we. I have done nothing wrong except learn to enjoy Yiren's company – but if you can't trust me to be true to you and love you alone, I will not be able to remain with you."
And in a flash, Topiara fell silent in Lyara's mind, leaving her mentally and emotionally raw and vulnerable to hear the cold words of her i'ilim. Her dark eyes opened, and her mouth worked several times without a sound. Finally: "Jilan…"
"No," he shook his head with a finality that echoed. He took hold of the little pouch of kulu weed and pulled it from around his neck and handed it to her – then retrieved the roll of birdskin with the herbal ointment. "Here is the medicine that Hodi'ia said would get you to the mountains of fire and ice. She said you should use the ointment three times a day and drink the herb four times a day – but I will no longer force either on you. Take them or not as you choose. I will carry the water, for it's heavy." He indicated the second water container he was still in the process of carving. "And by the time we go our separate ways, this should be finished and will serve you."
In the back of his mind, suddenly Rodayn was screaming loudly and painfully – protesting the course that he was laying out for himself and for the two of them. 'This is wrong!' was repeated over and over and over again until even Jilan was at the point of pressing his palms to his temples and shouting for respite.
Lyara stared at the little pouch and the packet of grease-stained birdskin that Jilan had lain in her hand. Was this the price of jealousy, then – that when she clung too tightly, she lost what mattered most? The cloud of jealous rage dispelled, she was finally able to see what had been going on over the last few days – and it was humbling. Jilan had been carefully and tenderly nursing her, urging her to take her medicine even when she objected and touching her wounds with fingers that didn't cause pain – and she hadn't uttered a single word of gratitude. He was right; she'd behaved no better than Dinia had all those years ago.
Her dark eyes touched his blue gaze and then filled with tears when those blue orbs, which had once been filled with such devotion, fell away without the slightest hint of fondness left in them.
I warned you of this, Topiara murmured at her in the back of her mind.
I thought you warned me against Yiren, Lyara's thoughts shot back at her power stone. I would never have said half of these things if I hadn't thought you were pointing to Yiren as the danger!
"Jilan…" She had to try again. "You're right – I have behaved abominably. I've been jealous of Yiren, and my mind made me think…"
"It's too late for explanations," Jilan breathed out a heavy sigh. "I don't have the energy to try to fight for you anymore. You've pushed me away and accused me until I just don't have the will to stay."
"Topiara kept warning me of danger," Lyara insisted, not letting him stop her. "I thought it was telling me that Yiren was the danger – to the two of us."
"Don't blame Topiara for what you did," Jilan snapped at her tiredly. "If Topiara has been saying the same things to you that Rodayn has been saying to me, then you've been hearing very generalized warnings of danger lurking ahead. It was YOU who turned those warnings into justification for blind jealousy." He looked up the path down which Yiren had vanished. "This is pointless. Let's get moving. I'm assuming we'll catch up to her sooner or later – or that she'll send hunters after us eventually. The sooner we're at a shelter, the better for us, I think."
He moved along the path a few paces, then tossed over his shoulder, "I'm not going to wait for you. Come or not. It will be your choice."
"We're supposed to travel together," Lyara choked out, almost too heartbroken to be able to speak.
"Together implies both parts putting forth effort," Jilan responded with no feeling at all. He felt numb, dazed. "I can't do my part and yours too anymore."
Lyara shouldered her netted bag a little more securely and slipped the packet of ointment into it before carefully drawing the thread of the little pouch of kulu weed over her head. Her leg throbbed – she was skipping her midday dose of both ointment and kulu weed – but she pressed onward until she was nearly at Jilan's side again. But he didn't wait for her, but began to match her pace and remain two paces ahead of her. Lyara leaned heavily on the railing as she walked and wished for the comfort of Jilan's arm around her once more, and could just manage to keep him in sight through the veil of tears that blinded her to nearly everything else.
Two hours later, Yiren came bounding back down the path toward them, her face brilliant with a broad smile. "My Uncle received me!" she reported after giving each one a tight hug. "I have a home again!"
"That's good," Jilan smiled at his Vri'ia'ani friend. "You deserve a good life with your family."
"I'm glad for you," Lyara stated, puffing up next to Jilan.
"Come!" the red-haired woman urged the two of them in excited anticipation. "I told him of your adventures here in the Great Forest, and he is interested in speaking to you – especially in light of your relationship with the mystic Nilyaron."
Lyara nodded and simply moved beyond Jilan and Yiren as they stood on the path. Yiren blinked as she finally realized that something important had happened in her absence. "Is everything all right?" she asked Jilan with wide green eyes.
He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it," he answered her sourly. "How far to the h'sun?"
"The main ladder is just around that turn," she replied with a worried expression. "There will be a feast tonight – and a Time of Telling that will have the Rememberers whispering among themselves for turns." She turned and looked to where Lyara was moving slowly and steady ahead. "Something's wrong here."
"Leave it alone," Jilan warned her. "Just leave it alone."
Confused and more than a little concerned, Yiren took the lead in showing them where the ladder led upwards to the bottom platform of the h'sun of Tala'anru'an. Watching Jilan climb the ladder alone without even offering to assist Lyara make the climb made a small knot form in the Vri'ia'ani woman's stomach. Had the bond finally snapped, she wondered? As it was, she helped Lyara climb the ladder herself, and noted how pale the Kauwlut's face was beneath the light sheen of perspiration.
"Mistress," she worried at Lyara finally, "when was the last time you had your medicines?"
"This morning," Lyara answered raggedly, finding it difficult to catch her breath after the ordeal of climbing the vertical ladder with a leg that shrieked every time she put the least weight on it.
"Jilan…" Yiren called forward, only to have Lyara's hand at her arm prevent her from calling again.
"I have them," Lyara told her. "Please, just show me a place where I can sleep. I'm so tired…"
Yiren gave Jilan a glare made sharp by her realization that he really wasn't concerned at all about the suffering of his i'ilim and then hurried off to speak to the h'sun steward about arranging a resting place for one of the two who had performed sha'adrah for her. In just a moment or two, she had two hunters at her side ready to assist in carrying Lyara up two more levels to a sleeping net where she could regain some of her strength.
Jilan followed out of habit and watched with a dazed and stony expression as Lyara was gently deposited in the sleeping net by one hunter while the other brought her a cup of fresh water. Rodayn whispered accusingly at him as he watched Lyara fumble at the tiny pouch at her neck to retrieve a pinch of the kulu weed and then choke the bitter liquid down before lying back into the net.
"What kind of i'ilim are you?"
He jerked at the angry hiss and found himself looking down into smoldering green. "Yiren…"
In that instant, Yiren knew that Jilan wasn't for her. He loved Lyara so much that his love for her could sour into disdain and calculated neglect – but his vri'i and Lyara's were too firmly linked. As their bond suffered, so did their vri'i. In the end, either they would stay together as a strong pair, or be miserable apart and unsuitable to bond with any other. What was more, whether happily or not, these two had performed sha'adrah and brought her home – it was up to her to attempt to heal what had been damaged in the process.
"She was injured protecting us all, and travels in pain every step of the way. She fears me because she can see that you and I have an easy friendship – and she has never known love to know its strengths or weaknesses. She made a mistake, Jilan - and now you would discard her like a used fruit rind?"
"That's not it?"
"No? Then what?" Yiren demanded, a curt gesture sending the hunters hurrying away.
"She knew I'd done nothing wrong…"
Yiren shook her head. "Have you never been sorely injured?" she asked him with a frown. When he shook his head, she sighed. "Then you don't know that pain can be like a fever, bringing visions and illusions about what is seen that are anything but the truth. Before she was hurt, she knew her mistake and apologized twice to me for it. She struggled against her own feeling of insecurity. Now you blame her for succumbing to it while in pain." She shook her head. "You will kill her, you know, if you continue."
And with that, Yiren walked away from him.
Lyara lay in the sleeping net unable to find refuge in slumber. Above her head she could hear the sounds of laughter and surprise as the inhabitants of the h'sun enjoyed an evening of Telling, and from time to time, she could hear the accent and timber of Jilan's voice standing out above the rest.
She'd lost him. Nilyaron had warned her – Topiara had warned her – and she hadn't known how to listen properly before the damage was done. And now, after a whisper in the back of her mind that said that all was lost, she didn't have the heart to continue on to the mountains of fire and ice. Nilyaron told her she should go there with her mate – and Jilan had already told her they were finished as i'ilim. He wasn't her mate. She could go no further, and had no reason to.
Besides, she hurt too bad to make the effort. Even with the ointment and kulu, she ached in every bone in her body. This, she decided with a deep sigh, was a goal too far beyond her. She'd failed – herself, Jilan, Nilyaron, and whoever else stood to benefit from the quest finished the way it had been meant to be.
It hurt to much to live. She lifted an arm and with trembling fingers stroked the fur of the fetish in her hair and for the first time found no solace in it. The Wolf-Faced One had no time for weaklings and the injured. They were left behind on the plains or taken out into the depths of the snows and left to perish. Here in the Great Forest, that meant they would be dropped from the sheltering branches to the mat of voracious zumi on the floor of the world. If the fall didn't kill her, perhaps the zumi would not let her suffer long.
She tried to move about in her net and had to bite her lip against a scream of pain. She'd forgotten about the ointment – and her knee refused to bend again. She forced herself to sit upright and look around for her netted bag, where she'd deposited the packet of ointment, and found it on the floor against the wall far out of reach. She was caught – either she could remain in the net unable to move, or she'd have to tumble herself out on the floor and crawl like a worm to her bag.
She eyed the wall, wondering if it looked out over the platform – or over the open forest. She could hop… and check it out. And if over the open forest, then her course was clear.
She used her hands to move her unwilling leg over the edge of the netting and then slipped very carefully onto her good leg. It would take good balance to hop across the uneven flooring – but that would be no harder that the walking she'd done that day.
And then all her suffering would be over.
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