“And you wonder why I haven’t been back in more than twenty years.”
“You are as hungry for the demons as they are for you, Brakandaran,” the Gatekeeper said with an indulgent smile. “Don’t deny them, or us, the joy of your return.”
By the time Brak had disentangled himself from the demons a second time, other white robed figures had appeared, attracted to the Gateway by the unusual commotion. The Harshini rarely, if ever, left Sanctuary these days – not since the Sisterhood had come to power two centuries ago – and few had entered the magical Gateway in that time. The Keep was outside of normal time and space, in a dimension uniquely its own. No one but a Harshini, or those born within the walls of Sanctuary, could find it when it was warded.
The curious arrived first, to see what all the fuss was about, wandering towards the Gateway with a leisurely stride. Behind those came others, some at a run. These Harshini were té Carn, his family, alerted by the demons’ joy at the return of their lost cousin.
He almost fled at that point. Seeing the faces of his family made him shrivel up a little inside. They had done nothing but try to make him feel as if he belonged here; and he had repaid their kindness with blood... this shame, this unbearable remorse, was the reason he had never come home.
“Brakandaran!”
A fair-haired woman pushed through the crowd and ran to him, twisting the knife of his guilt even harder into his soul.
“Samaranan.”
She stopped a few paces from him and examined him with a critical eye.
“You’re too thin.”
Brak was expecting almost anything but that. Trust Samaranan to say the one thing guaranteed to ease his tension. He smiled at her blunt criticism.
“I’ve been living on nothing but...” he stopped himself before he could upset the Harshini with his carnivorous diet. “I’ve been living off the land. It’s a long walk.”
“It was also an unnecessary one,” she scolded. “The demons would have brought you home. All you had to do was ask.”
“I like walking.”
“Actually, I think you like suffering. But you got here. Finally. Welcome home, brother.” She hugged him tightly, pushing demons out of the way to reach him. He had almost forgotten how forgiving the Harshini were – how incapable of anger or resentment. His elder half-sister did not seem to care that he had not contacted her for two decades. Nor did she seem to hold against him the crime that had driven him from this place. “Come, you must pay your respects to Korandellan. He knew you would come.”
Brak nodded, but did not bother to add that the King had left him little choice in the matter. Samaranan took his hand and led him forward, the demons skipping in his wake. The Harshini parted for them, some simply smiling their welcome, others nodding to him with genuine pleasure at his return. Some even reached out to touch his travel-stained clothes, to assure themselves that he was real. Brak tried to return the warmth of their welcome, but his guilt and his human blood, as always, made him feel like an outsider.
Sanctuary was like no other place on this world, and at first glance, seemed unchanged since Brak had last walked these halls. The Harshini settlement sat within a valley; the Keep tunnelled into the hills, its broad, open archways looking down to the valley floor. The air was sweet and moist from the constant mist created by the rainbow-tinted cascade that supplied the settlement with water and tumbled down toward the pool on the western edge of the valley. Although autumn was beginning to turn the mountains red, here in Sanctuary the temperature never varied a great deal. The God of Storms was solicitous of Harshini comfort.
The long, tiled walkways echoed his booted footsteps as Samaranan led Brak toward Korandellan’s apartments. Everywhere they went people turned and waved to him, delighted to see him. It was as though he brought them hope rather than pain, and the reaction puzzled him a little. It was true that the Harshini were incapable of anger or violence, but even that could not explain their obvious joy. Many of them would have been glad to see the back of him, he thought. Then another thought occurred to him as he realised what else seemed strange.
“Where are the children?”
“There are none, Brak.”
“Why?”
Samaranan slowed her pace and glanced at him. “It’s the wards on Sanctuary. They remove us from the real world. We do not age, but neither do we conceive.”
“But you don’t stay out of time constantly. Korandellan used to bring Sanctuary back every spring to allow time to catch up.” As far as Brak remembered, the settlement had reappeared every spring for the past two centuries. Such a return was vital for their survival.
“We’ve been warded now for nearly twenty years, brother,” she told him. “After you left, after the demon child was born, Xaphista redoubled his efforts to find us. We could not risk exposing ourselves, and Sanctuary would flare like a beacon to a Karien priest. Every time we return to real time, Death is waiting to claim those who have cheated him. There are no children to replace those who are lost.” She seemed to understand his confusion. “In case you’re wondering, that’s why everyone is so happy to see you. You will aid the demon child and she will remove the threat of Xaphista. Then we will be free once more.”
“Remove the threat of Xaphista? You mean kill him.”
Samaranan frowned. “Please don’t say it like that, Brak.”
“Why not? It’s the truth.”
“You know what I mean. You’ve been back for little more than a heartbeat. You could at least try to be sensitive.”
“Forgive me,” he snapped. “I’ll try very hard not to mention the fact that Korandellan has brought me back to train Zegarnald’s pet assassin.”
She stopped and glared at him, her black eyes as close to anger as they were capable of getting. “Stop it! This is not easy for any of us. There is no need for you to make it even harder.”
“You think this is easy for me?”
Samaranan’s eyes softened and she reached out to touch his face. “I’m sorry, little brother. I forget sometimes what it must be like for you.”
“Don’t apologise, Sam. I shouldn’t be heaping all my anger on you. There’s a god or two I’d like to throttle, but it’s not your fault.” Brak smiled wanly. “I promise I’ll try to be as Harshini as I can while I’m here.”
Her relief was evident. “Thank you.”
They resumed their slow pace through the broad halls. Brak listened idly as Samaranan filled him in on the family happenings, which, considering how much time Sanctuary had spent removed from reality, was a fairly short list. There were no new nieces or nephews or cousins to celebrate. Only the demons, who could flit between dimensions at will, were able to reproduce – but even their numbers were starting to dwindle in the face of the Harshini’s prolonged withdrawal. The Harshini and the demons were interdependent, and the creatures could not sustain an increase in their numbers that the Harshini were unable to match. It occurred to Brak that if something were not done soon, the Harshini would no longer be simply hiding. Their current state of limbo would eventually prove fatal. The knowledge was an added burden he did not want or need.
They reached Korandellan’s chambers eventually, and the tall, delicately carved doors swung open at their approach. The King was waiting for them, his smile benign, his arms outstretched in welcome. The resemblance between him and the demon child took Brak by surprise. Korandellan was tall and lean and impossibly beautiful, as all the Harshini were. With the demons clustered behind Samaranan’s long skirts, Brak fell to his knees and lowered his head, surprised at his need for Korandellan’s benediction.
“You have no need to kneel before me, Brakandaran. It is I who should bow to you. You have suffered much on our behalf.”