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  “No, please don’t go,” the man replied quickly, taking a few steps toward her. “I’ll leave. I was just curious.” He paused as if trying to determine what to say. He motioned toward the oil in her hand. “I noticed the work that you have been doing and wondered who you were. My name is Khomar Swordflower.”

  Aya paused at the strange flow of the Auxule form of his name. “I’m Lanye Nytal’s Aya,” she replied timidly. She figured she would follow his lead in formality by giving her name according to the way of the Jyrye.

  His lips hinted at a frown as he looked down at his feet. Had she done something to upset him? Instinctively, Aya reached toward him with her mind as she had often done when she could not read people’s expressions. It was as effortless to her as breathing, sensing other people’s emotions and thoughts, but as her mind brushed against his, she felt as if her mind had struck against a hard stone. He was blocking her. Strongly.

  It was her turn to frown, but something kept Aya rooted in place. After an uncomfortable silence, Khomar finally spoke in a quiet voice, “Why did you decide to start oiling the walls?”

  Aya relaxed slightly. At least he was still willing to talk to her. “It hurt to see such beautiful things left in such a state. Besides, it helps me to remember the stories. I really miss my dad’s Fellowship.”

  “So you are a Follower of Way?” Khomar asked as he looked up at her again, his eyes lighting up with interest.

  “Yes, since I was small.” Aya smiled. “Are you one too?”

  “Yes,” Khomar nodded as the tenseness in his shoulders melted away. “I was beginning to think I would never find another Follower among the students here, other than Kintrye, of course. But he’s has been gone so much lately, I haven’t had anyone to talk to about the Book of the Way.”

  “Kintrye? You mean the Headmaster’s son?” Aya asked. She was still learning names.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, that is the Kintrye I was referring to. I don’t remember seeing you before. Is this your second year?”

  “Actually, it is my first year,” Aya admitted.

  Khomar looked puzzled. “Then how are you able to be here at this hour?”

  “They let me skip most of the first year classes,” she explained. When Khomar raised his eyebrows at this, she continued hastily, “My dad taught me how to use my abilities, so they tested me and told me I didn’t need to take the entry empathic courses. They placed me with the second year students.”

  “You must be very good,” Khomar observed.

  Aya blushed and brushed it aside. “Well, my dad’s a very good teacher. But now I’m having to learn about Fleggish and Auxule cultures at the same time, and they are really strange.” She grimaced as she realized what she had just implied. She probably was not making the best impression on the Auxule man before her.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Khomar just nodded sympathetically and smiled. “Learning languages and cultures can be very difficult. Can I ask you a question?”

  Aya could not help smiling as she replied, “Haven’t you been asking questions already?”

  Khomar looked startled and then suddenly grinned. She was finding that she liked it when he smiled. “I have, haven’t I? Well, I was just wondering why you chose some of the stories you did. I mean, I understand Rut and Boazye, but why Elyas calling down fire? They seem so different.”

  “Actually, they’re similar when you think about it,” Aya replied thoughtfully. “Rut gave up everything to follow the God of Naomi even though she didn’t know what was going to happen. Boazye married Rut even though it could endanger his position in the end. Elyas risked his very life to call down fire in front of the evil king and his priests. All of them followed an uncertain path, trusting that God would see them through.”

  “Hmm… I’ve never thought about them that way,” Khomar responded with respect in his eyes. “And Petrye stepped out in faith, again trusting that Yesu would enable him to walk on the water.”

  Aya found herself moving closer to Khomar as he approached the nearest wall. He touched the wall with his gloved hand where the story of Elyas was depicted.

  “The thing I thought was interesting in this story is that Elyas never actually asked for fire,” Khomar commented. “He just knew that God knew what he needed. He prayed only that God’s glory and power would be revealed.”

  “Really? I don’t remember that part.”

  “Yeah, I just read it just a couple weeks ago.”

  Aya’s eyes widened. “You have access to a Book of the Way?”

  Khomar looked surprised and nodded. “Yes, I have it right here.” He moved to the front of the room and brought back the Book for her to see.

  “May I?” Aya could hardly contain her excitement as she reached out tentatively to touch the precious book. Her father had been the only person in Jyantral that she knew of who owned a Book of the Way.

  “Sure,” he smiled encouragingly as he handed it over.

  Her enthusiasm melted away as she opened the first page. The writing was pure gibberish in her eyes. Even the characters themselves were different than the ones she had learned. “It’s not in Jyrye,” she observed sadly.

  “Oh, right.” Khomar looked chagrined. “It’s written in Auxule. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s alright,” Aya replied, trying to keep her disappointment out of her voice. “I just haven’t been able to read a Book of the Way since I left home.” Not yet willing to relinquish the treasure in her hands, she turned several pages and then gave Khomar a questioning look. “There are no pictures.”

  It was Khomar’s turn to look puzzled. “Pictures?”

  “Yes, my dad’s book was filled with pictures much like the ones on these walls. This one… has no pictures at all.” She frowned as she closed the Book and reluctantly handed it back to Khomar.

  “Maybe there is a Jyrye copy in the library,” he offered. “I could make sure that you get access to it.”

  “Could you?” Aya’s hopes rose again. She started to step toward the door, wanting go that very moment.

  Khomar chuckled and said as though reading her thoughts, “They probably aren’t open now, but we can check tomorrow.”

  “Oh, of course,” she blushed and looked down at her feet, kicking herself for her silliness. She was suddenly struck by the fact that Khomar was an upperclassman, and she wondered if she seemed childish to him.

  “So what do you like about this story of Davyed?” Khomar asked pointing to another relief nearby.

  Her concerns were quickly dispelled as Khomar accepted her answer, and they continued to discuss that story and others. She found that she was growing increasingly comfortable around this giant man. Amazingly, she discovered that they often had a similar outlook on the stories, and she felt they were quickly becoming friends.

  They had been talking for some time when Khomar suddenly looked outside and his eyes widened. “Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “It’s late. I didn’t mean to stay for so long.”

  Aya followed his glance and saw that the suns had almost completely set. All that was left was a pale pink glow on the horizon. She realized they must have been talking for a few hours. She also remembered that she was not supposed to be alone with a man on campus and certainly not after dark.

  “What should we do?” she wondered out loud with more than a hint of panic.

  Khomar paused for a moment before speaking. “I’ll go out first and make sure the coast is clear. Then I can see you safely back to the women’s dorms. Hopefully, no one will realize we were both in here together.”

  “Alright,” Aya assented to the plan, not wanting to get into trouble with the Headmaster.

  Khomar started to move toward the door and stopped, glancing back toward her. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”

  Aya smiled at him as she started to follow. “I would like that. Besides, you owe me a trip to the library.”

  Khomar gave her a boyish grin and turned toward the door. He put his hand on t
he knob, and then suddenly his whole body tensed. With a strained whisper he ordered her, “Get back!” as he thrusted his Book of the Way into Aya’s hands.

  Even with his blocks, she could feel the fear and urgency in his voice and quickly complied, crouching between two benches. Khomar paused only long enough for her to hide herself before yanking the door open. Aya heard someone else gasp in surprise in the open doorway even as a strong emotion of malevolence swept over her. In a flash, Khomar rushed the man, obscuring him from view.

  The sound she heard next would haunt her for quite some time. It was like a low pitched shattering of glass. The attacker’s startled cry was cut short as he collapsed. Khomar staggered backward, his face writhed in fear and anguish, as he let the man fall to the floor. Aya stood hesitantly and looked at their assailant. He was dressed as one of the groundskeepers, but she did not recognize him.

  Khomar sank to his knees, his body trembling with shock. Aya moved toward him wondering if he was hurt, but as she approached, he gave her a wild look. “Don’t touch me,” he warned. She froze uncertainly. She was not sure what frightened her more, his tone or the terror she saw in his eyes.

  Another man appeared in the doorway. “Khomar!” he called out as his eyes widened in recognition. His searching gaze quickly took in the scene before him and settled on Aya. “Are you alright?”

  She nodded numbly. “I think so.”

  The man knelt by the fallen body. His face turned gray. “Khomar, what happened?”

  “I…” Khomar’s voice faltered, and he took a shuddering breath. “I think his arm is broken.”

  Aya recognized the man now. It was Kintrye, the Headmaster’s son. And a friend of Khomar. That was reassuring.

  Kintrye nodded curtly. “My father’s house is nearby. Let’s get him there, and then we’ll decide what to do next. Khomar, bring the girl.”

  Khomar nodded and looked again toward Aya. She was relieved to see that the emotion in his eyes had calmed somewhat. She offered him a weak smile and started toward the door when he motioned for her to go ahead of him. It felt strange to Aya to walk ahead of a man, but she reasoned it was for her safety. Kintrye had already lifted the body of the man and was making his way through the trees to the Headmaster’s house.

  The night air pressed in around her as if she was walking through a long, dark tunnel. She was seeing crouching figures in every shadow, and her skin crawled at the thought. She shuddered as a chill ran up her spine and nearly jumped out of her skin when Khomar’s hand touched her shoulder. She quickly put her hand on his leather glove and nodded as she continued to walk, her fears easing slightly.

  Feeling the weight of Khomar’s Book of the Way in her other hand, she lifted it up and clutched it to her chest. She may not have been able to read the words, but she knew the One of whom they spoke. She needed His strength now.

  They did not have far to go, and Aya was relieved that they saw no one else except Kintrye as he emerged from the house at a full sprint heading toward the medic’s hut. Khomar stepped in front of Aya and opened the door. He scanned the room before nodding for her to enter behind him.

  It was a moderate sized sitting room with comfortable looking chairs and a couch on which the body of the man had been laid. Khomar moved between her and the body, effectively shielding Aya from seeing what had happened to him.

  The Headmaster was just approaching the man as they entered. He nodded his greeting but said nothing. His face was drawn, but his eyes were quick and alert. From around Khomar, Aya could see the Headmaster kneel by the couch and pull back the fabric of the man’s vest. He sucked in a breath and nodded as he let it fall back.

  Glancing up, he addressed Khomar.

  “Take Aya into my study,” he spoke firmly. “Neither of you must been seen. I will be there shortly.”

  Another chill gripped Aya. What had he seen that would cause him to break his own rules and send them into another room alone? She dumbly followed Khomar as he led her into the adjacent room. She stared blankly ahead as she heard the door close behind her.

  Chapter 4

  Khomar could still feel his heart pounding as he closed the door to the Headmaster’s study. His hand lingered on the knob of the solid oak door, clinging to it tightly as if trying to absorb some measure of its strength. Even through his leather gloves, he could feel the cool metal beneath his fingers, the wooden planks below his feet, and the warm presence of another person in the room.

  He turned his attention toward the girl who stood with her back to him. Though she was of average height for a Jyrye woman, she was nearly a foot shorter than he was. She had a fit, trim figure and ebony hair that fell in a long braid down to the middle of her back. She wore a traditional sleeveless wrap shirt made from sapphire linen with matching flowing pants. He was struck by how small and vulnerable she appeared.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, he reluctantly let go of the knob and straightened. “Are you alright?” he asked finally, breaking the silence.

  Aya looked back toward him, her violet eyes wide and frightened. He saw her lips tremble as she swayed slightly.

  “You should sit down,” Khomar instructed her as he quickly grabbed a nearby chair. He kept his hands ready to catch her as she silently complied, her hands still clutching his Book of the Way to her chest. She immediately curled her feet up onto the chair and rested her chin on the book. He frowned as he watched her, uncertain what he should do. Spotting another chair a few feet away, he sat down and looked around the room.

  The Headmaster’s study was dark as it had no windows and the walls were covered with wood paneling and two bookcases. A large, ornate oak desk sat in the middle of the room with four wooden chairs for visitors and a larger chair covered with soft leather behind the desk. Two lit lanterns on each end of the desk illuminated the room sending flickering shadows into the corners. A discarded cup of tea, now growing cold, remained half empty on the desk.

  After several long moments in silence, Aya raised her head, and Khomar was relieved to see that a bit of color had returned to her face. “What do you think that man wanted?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Khomar studied her a minute before responding. How much should he tell her of what he knew? He had seen the symbol on the man’s chest as the Headmaster pulled back his vest: a curled snake ready to strike. He recognized it as the symbol of the Tynesprys, the very people the school had been founded to fight. They were ruthless and cunning, and many had been killed at their hands in the dark of night. Had this man been sent to kill Aya? Why?

  “I don’t know,” he finally replied.

  Aya pursed her lips and look away. “Who do you think he was after: you or me?” she asked.

  Khomar drew in a deep breath as he considered her question. “I don’t know,” he repeated.

  “Well you don’t seem to know much at all,” Aya replied crossly, hugging the book more tightly. Khomar winced, and her expression immediately softened. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m sorry.” Her head sunk again.

  “It’s alright,” Khomar said gently. “I understand.” He paused and leaned forward knowing that she deserved more of an explanation than he had given. “Honestly, I don’t think we have enough information to draw any conclusions. I don’t know of any reason for anyone to attack either of us.”

  She nodded, her eyes lifting again. She smiled weakly at him. “You’re right. I guess we just need to wait.”

  “Yeah, I think my uncle may have an idea of what is going on.” The Headmaster had acted very strangely after seeing the symbol, and there was an odd look in his eyes when he had ordered Khomar into his study.

  “Your uncle?” Aya gave him a quizzical look.

  “The Headmaster, Nalykian,” Khomar explained. “His wife is my mother’s sister.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, a look of understanding flashing in her eyes. She paused thoughtfully. “So Kintrye is your cousin?”

  “Yes, though he is almost more of a brother to me,” Khomar re
plied with a smile. “We spent many winters together growing up.”

  “So your father, he is an Auxule?”

  “Yes. His name is Khauxlan. He’s a Healer in Auxland.”

  Aya cocked her head. “A medic?”

  “Well, it’s a bit more than that,” Khomar replied as his smile widened, glad to have another subject to talk about. “They actually have the ability to both sense what is wrong with a person and to speed up the healing process. It’s an ability not unlike how you can sense other people’s emotions.” At least, that was his understanding from the description of the two gifts. He did not possess either of them.

  “What’s your mother’s name?” Aya asked. She allowed the Book to settle against her legs as she rested her arms on her knees. It seemed the conversation was helping her settle down, and it was helping Khomar forget as well.

  “Her name’s Tillya. She’s an empath, though a weak one. She’s the daughter of Tyrinian Kyan of the Terawk tribe.” He paused and was a little surprised that he saw no recognition of the name in Aya’s eyes. Most Jyrye that he had spoken with had given him a strong response at the name of the famous war hero. “How about you? Who are your parents?”

  “My father’s name is Lanye Nytal of the Three Rivers. He is an advisor to the king.”

  Khomar raised his eyebrows. “You’re from Jyantral?”

  Aya gave a him a puzzled look and nodded.

  “I didn’t know there was a Fellowship there,” he commented. “It must be difficult to live there.”

  Aya’s puzzled expression grew more pronounced. “Well, I suppose it is. Our Fellowship is small, but I have good friends there.”

  Khomar nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps Kintrye did not have the full picture of what it was like in the capital, or perhaps life was different among the average people as compared to that of the court. He paused a moment before asking, “Who is your mother?”

  “My mother’s name was Nitaya,” she replied. “She died when I was very young.”