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There had been a time when silence didn't bother Rhaya Nahl. She was, after all, born into a small hamlet at the top of the Shattered Hills, and it was a quiet, reserved place tucked into the flowers and trees of the mountain's crest. She had never seen any other village, or been to the base of the mountain, and the lone path through the village clearing seldom saw horses or carts.
What traffic was on their avenue, if the dirt trail could even be called that, often meandered with assurance that they would get to where they needed to in plenty of time, for Malinder was small enough that it didn't take very long to get anywhere. The quiet was a part of the landscape that she'd associated with her home as long as she could remember, her memories of this place were always of the serenity that came from being away from the troubles of the larger settlements. Not everyone who lived here had been born here like she and her older sister had, but all who lived here seemed to treasure this place, and it was a village of both laughter as well as companionable silence.
There was always something more to be experienced with those she loved, which was what helped make the quiet something easy to manage. There would be some new story or observation, a new day to be shared together. It was simply a matter of passing the time with her family and friends, the people she'd known all her years - or at least for a few, which in the eyes of an eleven-year-old was close enough to her whole life, in any case.
There had been a time when silence didn't bother Rhaya Nahl, but things were different now.
There would be no more days to be shared together. The silence was no longer a means of passing time, it was a reminder of time that was past.
The tranquility of nature was a source of respite for the solitude that had overtaken her home, as the trees and rivers and meadows all remained in their familiar places; and the young girl spent what time there she could, knowing she shouldn't linger too far from the village in case someone needed her.
The redhead leaned on the windowsill, her sewing forgotten as she watched the breeze stirring through the leaves. She wasn't making good progress, and was really only bothering with making the shawl due to the current trend among the girls her age. The handful who had tried needlework seemed to enjoy it; so she decided to try it as well, much for the delight of her father.
Having a new hobby would be good for her, he insisted. Passing the time by developing a productive skill was a fine way to take the mind from grief.
The leaves were beginning their flush as the season began to change again, the heat of summer beginning to cool. The yearly malinderberries hadn't come in yet, and Rhaya couldn't help but wish that they never would, that fall would stay away. It would be hard for anyone to travel once the days grew shorter and colder. Eventually fall would become winter, and it would be all the harder for those who had left to return to the mountain.
It was a selfish wish, she knew, the berries were important to ration for times of harsher weather, after all. But the days were hard enough, and she didn't want to imagine enduring the longer nights of winter all on her own.
Sister, she thought anxiously, glancing in vain across the creek to the trees in the distance, hoping to see her. Please come back soon.
If Solyana wasn't able to make it back before the cold closed the trails winding down the mountain, it was almost a certainty she wouldn't be able to make it home until spring.
Rhaya swallowed hard, emotion tugging at her throat. Every day her sister didn't come back was another credit to the whispers around the village that she wouldn't come home, and the thought was like a knife in her stomach.
What if Solyana didn't come back? She wasn't a warrior or a sorceress, or the heir of a noble family with the money to buy the skills she didn't have herself. She was just a girl from the mountains.
Worry began to spiral up the young mage's spine again, twisting her belly as the familiar sour knot settled in her gut. What if something had happened to her, and there was nobody to help her?
What if Solyana didn't come back?
Rhaya jerked to her feet as a shudder ran through her. She needed to move, get away from those thoughts.
Solyana would come back. She was strong and smart. These mountains were her home, and if anyone could survive out in the wild she could. She was only fourteen, but she knew everything - where all the trails were, the name of each plant on the mountain, the destination and origin of every stream, how to find berries and trap game.
Rhaya knew that very well, and had a distinct memory of watching her sister show off a special cage she'd made with leaves and berries meant to catch prey, snatching a rabbit with it. She'd always suspected the older girl would have killed and cooked the rabbit she'd caught - because she knew how to do that too - but she'd had shown mercy to the tiny thing when Rhaya had pleaded with her to let it go.
Solyana had learned well from both of their parents, taking outdoor skills from their father, and more domestic skills from their mother. She was kind and always knew what to say to others to resolve conflicts, so if she had run into someone else on the trail, surely things would have been okay.
Solyana would come back, Rhaya just didn't know when. And for now, all she could do was wait.
But it wasn't going to be here. She'd definitely spent enough time in this room - which was meant for two, but was now hers alone.
It was lonely enough in this house with nothing but her thoughts for company or comfort, and since they were wandering toward dark places, it would serve her better to get out of the house and visit around town.
Perhaps someone might have news?
The thought cheered Rhaya, and she grabbed the shawl she was working on to show her progress (which was minimal, but there was the foundation there of an embroidery design revolving around the purple-red malinderblossom berries surrounded by their customary pink petals). She draped the white fabric around her shoulders, liking how it layered over the rosy taupe fabric of her dress. It was nothing overly fine, but it was comfortable enough, and she supposed if she was able to improve enough at her sewing she might be able to add some embellishments with finer trim or lacework, should any material come her way.
Her father had mentioned the possibility of a new dress for her birthday, which she certainly wouldn't object to, but what she wanted most was something she knew he couldn't promise.
Rhaya gazed across the room at her sister's empty bed. She'd made it up to be tidy, since Solyana always preferred things to be in their proper place, but she'd left the pillow unfluffed, with the last indent of her sibling's head remaining just as it was, with the four wine-colored strands of hair still lingering on the fabric.
It was a small selfishness that she couldn't help, but it was something that brought Rhaya comfort, as if her sister had just stepped outside to visit the neighbors, and not vanished off to who-knew-where.
As she went back to the door, a noise rustled in another room, and the girl's heart jolted at the movement of another person. She jerked the door open, rushing out to see who it was, but it was just one of the village cats, staring at her from the kitchen table, where it had knocked over one of her mother's old vases.
Her dad had encouraged more cats around the village to pick off pests, which she certainly didn't object to because they were cute, and if they were able to ward off disease then all the better. The cat patrol, as the younger children called it, made its rotation around the hamlet, with some being more social than others. It was now expected to see at least two at any point in the village, with the likelihood of there being more lurking out of sight.
The current feline laying on her table was a larger gray one with thick fur that was much softer than one might expect, almost like down, and bright blue eyes. Though its fur was short on its body, the same was not true for the tips of its ears or its tail, which was far longer there, and wove almost like a plume of smoke when its tail twitched.
It was over three times the size of the rest of the cats in town, and she heard the rumor off and on that it was descended from one of the Ashtolian chattercats, though she wasn't sure she believed that. It was definitely an unusual size for a cat, as tall as some of the smaller dogs, but it was more sociable than most, strolling through Malinder with ease, unbothered by man or horse or canine.
It was friendly enough, though Rhaya didn't care for the creature's disregard for boundaries or property. This one in particular seemed to favor their home, and often followed her father around, though it would settle in her company as well at different parts of the day, expecting to be pet a bit before departing back to some other part of the village.
She went to the table to put the vase back and clean up the flowers that had spilled from it. As she picked up the blooms, she noticed just how old the arrangement was. The vibrant petals of the malinderblossoms were wilted, the green leaves dried to a pale brown. Even the ferny leaves of the arrangement had gone, the darker brown closer to the wood of the table.
Rhaya brought the flowers over to the window, tossing them outside, since they'd do no good rotting in here.
The cat meowed for attention, and when she turned back to the table, she spotted a small brown lump near its paws.
That had better not be what I think it is, Rhaya thought with annoyance and disgust, but as she came closer she realized it was, in fact, exactly what she thought it was.
The cat chirped, a jutting noise almost like a bird, then sat up straight, as if expecting praise.
It was almost as if the cat understood the constant requests of her father and the elders around the village reminding her to eat. But food had little taste anymore, and she only bothered when her body protested too much.
"Thank you, but I'm not eating that. But I will eat something, if it bothers you that much," she sighed, grabbing a couple of oatcakes from the nearby shelf. "I know I've asked you before to not put those kinds of things on the table. Dead things don't go there," the girl chided the cat. "Well, not before they're cooked, anyway."
It looked back at her in its typical way of not seeming to care one whit about what she wanted, though it picked up the mouse and wandered over to the open window, hopping up to the sill then outside.
Rhaya sat aside the oatcakes with a sigh, making a note to pick some new flowers to give life back to the table, as well as remembering to clean it again once she was back.
It wouldn't really matter, though. This table used to be a place of food and family, decorated with the flowers her mother loved so much, but even if the vase was filled, the table wouldn't be complete ever again.
Still, the flowers were something her mother loved, and her sister too, and when Solyana came back, it would be nice to show her that the table had been cared for while she was gone.
Rhaya wrapped a couple of oatcakes in a cloth and put them in her front pocket, taking extra in case anyone she visited happened to be hungry.
There was a small mirror on the shelf near the door, and she gave it a glance, staring back at the stranger there. The person there was pale and thin, gaunt in a way that she hadn't been since before her mother had gone and her sister had left - at least from what she suspected, considering she heard questions over her health at least once a week now.
There were dark circles under her wine-red eyes, and her hair was oily and unbrushed. She often wore it loose now, only making an effort with it if her father insisted for her to, and even then she would simply gather it into a ponytail rather than bother with braiding it anymore.
She'd thought more than once of cutting off the length and sparing herself the trouble of styling it altogether, but braiding hair was something she and Solyana had done together. They'd tried out so many styles and decorations, and she couldn't bear the idea of her sister coming home and finding it was something they couldn't do anymore.
Her sister was coming back. What would she think to see her in this state?
Rhaya felt a wave of guilt and quickly pulled her hair out of the ribbon it was loosely bound in and ran her fingers through it to comb it, starting at the crown of her head and weaving a braid through it which made her look a bit more put-together, then binding the end and letting the length lay over her shoulder.
The girl staring back at her still looked half a mess, but only half.
She set off outside. The hamlet's clearing was quiet mostly, as to be expected, with most of the laborers about their tasks around the mountain, mining in the ice caverns or out in the sheep fields or off in the forest hunting. Her father was almost certainly with the village's elder leadership, unlikely to appear home until much later after he'd been briefed on any new incidents that had arisen throughout the day, as to be expected.
She missed him, too.
Her life felt in many ways like some errant mistake, a drifting existence. Malinder was the only place she had ever known, but it was so lonely here despite the conversations with her neighbors and friends, though she would never tell them that and hurt their feelings.
It was as if she was far, far away from the place she belonged, and Rhaya wondered if she would ever find her way back there. She wandered by some of the older women and they asked after her, as expected, to which she gave her customary reply that she was well enough, followed by some pleasantries that she forgot as soon as the conversation had ended and she was on her way.
She was almost to the center of the settlement, and found herself staring off down the far path that led out of Malinder and down the mountain. Was that the road Solyana had taken? Or had she just run off into the woods in some other direction?
She'd been grieving their mother's death, from what her dad had told her, but he wouldn't elaborate on it, and had been short with her when she'd asked about if there was a searching party.
Of course there had been, he had said. But there were more people that needed taking care of, and they weren't going to waste time searching the woods when it wasn't as if Solyana was lost. She'd come back whenever she was ready.
But how long would that be? Rhaya had been waiting over six months now.
Their father had stopped waiting a long time ago.
A soft voice called her name, and she saw her friend Marlion wandering over to her. The brunette was one of the diminutive Ciriyan race, and was over a head shorter than her despite being one year older, and not likely to get any taller at this point. He hadn't been born here, he and his parents had come to stay with other kin, but she was never one to judge someone from not their village.
Her own mother had been born outside Malinder, living far to the south but Rhaya wasn't sure where exactly. Lamana Nahl hadn't spoken often of her homeland, considering the mountain to be her home now. This was the place she had chosen, and her family was what mattered most to her.
She thought of how safe and warm her mother's embrace had been, long black hair cascading over her like a curtain of ruby night, how it had smelled like malinderwood mixed with some strange scent she couldn't identify, but was familiar all the same. Emotion tore at Rhaya's throat at the memory, and she pivoted her attention as fast as she could before she lost her composure. "Hi Marlion," she greeted, putting on her best smile. "How's your day been?"
The smaller boy's thin shoulders shook as he shrugged. "Alright, I guess. I'm almost finished with my book, but I wanted to try to hold off on the last few chapters since it's going to be a bit before the next one. Mertle's such a slow reader."
Marlion was an avid reader like many in the village, but was one of the fastest. He'd been born on the eastern coast, and had travelled with his parents before coming to town a few years ago. He was the top in their class, often finishing his work before anyone else; and his brown eyes were most often in some kind of book, whether he was in town or off with her in the woods.
Reading was an easy way to pass the time, and new books were something often brought back on the town's trading caravans, since they were lightweight and the merchants also needed a way to combat boredom while on the road, at least from what her father had suggested. The logic made sense to her.
The book he was reading was one she'd had before passing it along to him, but it hadn't kept her interest. "You could always finish it, then start it over," Rhaya suggested, sitting on the edge of the wooden platform used for community announcements.
"I could probably finish it again before she's done," Marlion grinned cheekily, his short legs dangling. "I'll try that, thanks!"
"Sure," Rhaya nodded, reaching into her pocket. "I've got some oatcakes, want one?"
"Yeah, but just if you have an extra one. I don't want to take yours, you need it more than me." the Ciriyan gestured to himself with his short arms. "I'm probably not going to grow much more than this. The blessing of my people," he rolled his eyes.
The redhead passed over one of the jam-filled cakes, happier to eat with company, and they ate while watching the activity of the town, meager as it was. The place had always been quiet, as far as Rhaya knew. Malinder had been founded by a small band of Unasir way back around the time of the eighth king, at least so the stories went. It made sense they had been here at some point - all the structures here were made of stone, and the mines had been established long before anyone living could remember. But no one could remember any Unasir ever living in the village, and Marlion's family were one of a handful to have even met one of those mages.
It seemed strange to think that they wouldn't have remained here on the mountain, that they would have vanished without seeing their goals come to light. Why had they come up here simply to abandon their efforts?
Nobody seemed to know, and few asked anymore.
Rhaya lifted her hand to take another bite of her oatcake, but realized she'd already finished it.
"You're still hungry? Did you want this back?" Marlion asked, pulling his cake apart and offering a piece to her, despite the fact that it made a jammy mess.
"It's okay, that's for you! I have another one," she smiled back at him, pulling another biscuit from her pocket. Being distracted was good for her appetite, apparently.
"You braided your hair," Marlion murmured as she ate.
"Hmm?" She blinked in surprise, turning to her friend.
"Umm, your hair," the boy said. He began to reach out but jerked his hand back, seeing the fruit still stuck to his fingers, waving it as though he had an unseen braid of his own. "It looks nice."
"Ah, not really," Rhaya replied, her fingers fiddling with the long braid. There were still locks of hair sticking out of the woven strands, and some parts of the plait were tighter than others. "I could have made it look nicer, I wasn't really thinking about it." It was more fun when Solyana was here, anyway. Trying to be stylish was just another way to be reminded that she was gone.
"You always look nice," her friend said quietly, but when she turned to look at him she saw his hands were clenched in his lap, as if he was nervous, and the cake was set aside, still unfinished.
"Are you okay?"
Marlion's pale cheeks flushed as he mumbled something, but the sound of hooves thundering down the avenue drew both of their attention.
The rider was covered in dirt, dust flying from his hair and clothes as he surged down the road. He was coming from the direction of the mines, and Rhaya didn't like just how fast he was pushing his horse.
People didn't ride like that unless there was something terribly wrong.
The rider's head jerked towards them, and he drew the horse up short. "You're here, thank goodness!" the man called.
"What happened?" Marlion asked, but she got to her feet, already knowing there was trouble.
Rhaya recognized him as Mertle's father, and knew he was talking to her at once. "It's okay, you can fill me in once we're there," she held up a hand, turning back to her friend. "I'll be back soon."
"I'd offer to ride too, but-" the Ciriyan wiggled his shorter legs. "I'll meet you over there."
Mertle's father all but leapt from his horse, offering her a boost up into the saddle, and she sat in front while the older man climbed back into his seat, bracing her with his arms at her sides. Because of her long skirt she wasn't able to ride normally, so her legs dangled freely over the sides of the saddle, and she clutched the leather horn at its front, twisting her torso to try to face forward as much as she could.
She wasn't used to riding; and was rigid as they hurtled back down the path he'd come from, the dust from the first trip still lingering in the air. The older man assured her that he would catch her if she was about to slide off and reminded her that the more stuff she was, the more likely she was to fall, and she tried to follow his recommendation and relax as much as she could, trusting that Mertle's father wouldn't risk her getting hurt.
They didn't have that far to go, which was comforting, and actually didn't go as far as expected, with them stopping near a group of men gathered at the trailhead.
Mertle's father hopped down, helping her as well, and the pair rushed over to the assembly, who were gathered around another man who was laying on the ground.
"What happened?" Rhaya asked, but could already surmise the basics of what had caused the injury - a deep puncture wound to the man's shoulder surrounded by a cluster of scrapes and bruises reaching all the way up to his neck and face.
The miners confirmed her suspicion - a cave-in had half buried the man, and his pickaxe had pierced his shoulder. "We pulled Tomm out and brought him here fast as we could. It was less than an hour ago."
They were aware of her limit, just as she was. The redhead may have only been eleven, but had already made a name for herself as a prodigious healer, able to wipe away most injuries so long as the wound was fresh.
Arcane power pooled in her veins, the sensation one of the few that remained sharp over these past few months. "Let me see what I can do," Rhaya offered, holding out her hand for her staff.
The air around her shifted, and an arm's-length staff similar to a branch of malinderwood shimmered into being, manifesting as if it was a lost detail taking shape that the universe had forgotten to paint. Pink petals were scattered along the shaft's curved length, as if forever falling; and at the head of the staff sat a large glassy orb the size of Rhaya's hand, shaped in the image of a drop of dew. Within the gem's depths countless colors swirled and danced, shifting like a liquid rainbow.
Her grip settled on the shaft, her small hands settling into their familiar positions. Its presence was a unique sensation, the weight something she felt in her mind as much as her fingers, and there was something fluid about the staff despite its solid shape, a flow throughout it that she could sense though she couldn't see it.
This was the power of Cuinane - the magic of wind.
At least, that was what she had been told. She was the only person in her village who had any arcane skill, not even her father or sister had any magic. She wondered sometimes if her magic had come from her mother. She'd never seen her practice, and yet when she'd first summoned her staff, the older woman was the only person unsurprised, almost as if she'd been expecting Rhaya to bring it into being.
But there hadn't been any guidance from her mother, only encouragement to trust her skills and do her best.
The young mage swallowed hard at the memory, guilt swelling in her chest again at having let down someone who meant so much to her, but she knew she didn't have time to think about that failure right now.
Someone needed her help, and she couldn't fail again.
Rhaya extended her arm to wave her staff over the fallen man. There was a hole ripped into him, but it was one that she could easily fix. The dewdrop-shaped orb of her staff flashed, and a wave of pale gold dust glimmered into being, trailing in the air before it streamed down over the miner. She guided it with her thoughts toward his injuries, the dust flowing as though she had used her hands to scatter it.
It settled over the gash, where it began to glow, as though the warm golden light was blooming from within the injury itself. The radiant display grew steadily brighter, enough that most of the men turned their heads from it. Only Marlion's father continued watching her work, the bright brown eyes he shared with his son shining with fascination.
It was slow but steady work as the dust filled in Tomm's wound, and she could sense the details of the injury beginning to fade. Marlion had made his way over to them while she worked - following the light, no doubt - and her friend stood close to his father, quietly watching her, but she kept her attention on her patient, mindful to not be distracted until her work was truly finished.
The tears in the muscles were mended, and soon enough the skin was repaired as well. There was nothing her magic could do for the man's clothes, one of his kin would have to see to that. The young sorceress could feel the edges of fatigue creeping in, but steeled herself to finish her task, holding onto the arcane current that flowed from her staff to the miner's injuries. When she could no longer sense the flaws she bade her dust to cease its flow, and the shine from the orb of her staff faded.
Though her skills weren't something unknown to the residents of Malinder, there were still whispers of astonishment all the same. The miner Tomm tried to sit up, but gasped in pain, clutching his shoulder with a shudder even though all that remained was a pale gold stain in the shape of his wound.
"It'll be okay, just rest," Rhaya offered. "The memory of the wound is still there, but it'll go away after a good night's sleep."
"Don't worry, lad!" Marlion's father clapped him on the untreated shoulder. "When she patched my leg, it still hurt like the devil but a trip to the alehouse cleared it right up!" he assured, much to his son's chagrin.
"I'll take the medicine if you're paying," her patient replied wearily and the men around him laughed loudly, with more than one joking about visiting the village's 'other' doctor.
Rhaya was glad he was well enough for jesting, and released her staff back into the aether, letting it turn back into dust, and it vanished on the wind.
The miner's tired green eyes watched the dust as it faded, massaging his shoulder. "You shouldn't be here," Tomm sighed, shaking his head.
It sounded half like accusation, half like guilt. "What do you mean?" Rhaya asked, tucking her hands into her dress's front pocket with a shrug. "Where else should I be?"
"You should be off studying at Asirastol. You're gifted - that magic's wasted stuck way up here at the top of the Shattered Hills."
"I don't think it's wasted," the young healer replied with a slight frown, wandering back to Marlion's side, standing beside the familiar figure. "Malinder's my home, I want to help everyone however I can."
"You'd help more at the Royal Academy," the miner said, gingerly getting to his feet. He ran his hands through his shaggy brown hair, sending a shower of dirt and rocks falling from the strands.
"But then who would help the people here?" Rhaya asked gently. "Asirastol's got more than enough magicians. It's not any lesser from lacking one meager Cuinasir."
"I'd not sell yourself short, young lady," Marlion's father piped up. "I've seen more of Alset than this whole lot put together, and there's not very many mages at all who can do what you can."
"Cuinane going out, too, then?" One of the other miners asked. "There's stories that the fires're dying out."
She'd heard the rumors that the Dunane art was dying, that somehow the connection of that magic was becoming more and more difficult to maintain. She wondered how true it was, considering she always felt the link to her own magic as easily as she did her pulse, and none of the people here used magic themselves, so it didn't seem like something they could understand.
But Marlion's father was well-travelled and seemed to believe it, which made it appear likely, and the idea of one's magic suddenly disappearing was one that filled the sorceress with dread. Would that be something she might lose as well, just as she'd lost her mother and sister?
Marlion was frowning at his elder, but the other Ciriyan shook his head. "Not that I've heard mentioned," he replied before looking back to Rhaya. "But Cuinane doesn't come up that much, compared to the other arts. They all seem to have their specific uses, and Unasir are more often in demand, considering their skills. People need to eat, and need places to live. Fire and travel are something that can almost be more easily accomplished with mundane means, same with medicine. Your talent is an example of Cuinane having greater utility than something that can be done with one's bare hands."
"You said you've not seen magic like mine around?" Rhaya asked.
"Magic takes so many forms, dear girl," Marlion's father smiled. "Just because I've not seen it myself doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Your art has a phenomenal use, just as Tomm mentioned. My guess is that those who have magic like yours don't often find themselves in the position of travelling with common traders."
Likely they were in the employ of some noble house or mercenary company, if Rhaya had to offer a guess. And it was just another example of why she needed to stay here. "Well, in any case, I doubt any invitation for the Royal Academy will ever make it to Malinder," the sorceress shrugged.
"Don't pass up chances because of us," Tomm insisted. "You deserve to explore your talents, not just be chained up here."
Why should she leave? This was her home. "You'll feel better once you've had some dinner and rest," Rhaya wove her hand. "I'm sure everyone will. You've all had a hard day," she added, looking to the others.
"Hard days need hard drinks!" someone said and the group cheered, beginning to make their way back toward the town.
The young sorceress was glad for the end of the conversation, lingering behind the group beside her friend and letting the laborers enjoy their own company as they walked back up the trail.
"Would you really leave Malinder... if the Academy asked you to?" Marlion asked, his brow furrowed as he stared off after the adults.
"It's not like they will," Rhaya wove off the question. "And even if they did, why would I want to go all the way to the coast?"
"The Autumn Road is pretty. We never went up all the way to the school, but a part of it connects to the Kingstrail. It's a popular area for merchants to meet up since it's a point where two big roads join together. We'd always see nice wagons and carts heading up that way." He sounded sad, but she didn't know why he was upset. "My point is that there were always important people going that direction. All the fancy wagons went that way, or came from there."
"Fancy things don't matter to me," Rhaya replied. "Malinder is my home. It's where I was born. It's where I was happy."
"Was?"
Rhaya stiffened, feeling heat on her cheeks, as though she'd been tricked. "Ah, it's important to me, that's all! There's nothing out there that's important to me."
"That's not true," Marlion muttered.
Her red brow furrowed slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, if Solyana was there you'd want to go."
Half an accusation again, and she didn't know why he was so bothered. "Well, of course I would! But-"
Someone ahead shushed them and the pair looked to the adults who were all stopped in the middle of the path.
Why had they stopped?
The children came closer, looking at what the miners were staring at.
At the trailhead leading down the mountain were a pair of riders, with a fierce look to them that made Rhaya tense. They had a strangely ashen complexion, almost as if they had been carved from stone. Their cloaks were black with fur trim, and their dark leather armor showed visible signs of use in battle. Their mounts were tall horses far larger than any of the steeds she'd seen around the mountain, and unlike the horses here, the horses were tan with strange soft brown stripes that reminded her somewhat of the pattern of wood.
Were they raiders? The adults seemed to think so.
"Tomm, you're the fastest rider. Go get Mal," Marlion's father urged.
"A little rude to risk ruining Miss Rhaya's healing right after she patched me up," Tomm said though he went to the horse as instructed, and went off down one of the side paths, keeping to the trees rather than riding out in the open.
The newcomers looked around, scanning the hamlet, but didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, their narrowed eyes glancing past their group without a second's regard. Their horses were almost statue-still, and the riders didn't urge them onward or even speak to each other, waiting near the entrance to the settlement as four long covered carts came up the trail behind them.
A merchant caravan? What were they doing here, all the way at the top of the Shattered Hills? Malinder wasn't on any trade routes, they sent trade wagons down the mountain to trade in sheep and malinderberries, and they only visited the settlements at the northern base of the hills.
"Are they lost?" Marlion asked quietly.
The remaining miners slowly began to approach the newcomers alongside Marlion's father, who curtly told them to go home via the trail. Rhaya couldn't help the brief flicker of annoyance at being treated like a child again so soon after helping. Still, she didn't complain aloud, since the travelers were strangers and it wasn't clear what their intentions were.
"We should probably do what he says," the Ciriyan murmured, touching her arm to pull her back with him.
It was a decent idea, but her healer's instincts made it hard to accept leaving. "There might be someone who needs help, though," she insisted gently.
Other travelers emerged from the nearest covered wagon, and they were thankfully less scary looking than the first two men, who were evidently their guards.
There was another man with a similar ashen completion, though he was thinner than the other two, and he lingered beside a tall man with pale patches on his skin, as if he'd painted himself in solidarity with the other. They both wore regal blue robes that reminded Rhaya of the gray of the horizon just before dawn, and they looked around the clearing as if noting the details of every tree, murmuring to themselves.
Three more people exited the cart, and they were strange as well, finely dressed with clean gray tunics and long wide belts that took up nearly their whole middle, and draped down to their knees, and each of the trio wore a different color - one a deep orange, one maroon, and one ivory. They were colored to match their boots, which looked to have seen little wear, along with fine ribbons in their hair.
"What's with their faces?" Marlion whispered. "Who are they?"
Rhaya couldn't answer, and at first wasn't sure why her friend sounded so worried about their appearance, but as she studied the men's features, they all seemed slightly off, as if they were copies of what a face should look like, with long narrow noses and sharp brows and jaws that were almost too refined.
"Rhaya, please can we go, please?" the smaller boy asked anxiously, his small hand pulling her slightly harder.
"I don't think there's any trouble," Rhaya tried to reassure him. "They don't look like fighters."
"They might be mages or something!"
That could be the case, but they hadn't done anything yet to be worthy of suspicion. They hadn't all even exited their wagon yet, as Rhaya saw the man with the ivory belt offer a hand to another of the travelers still inside the cart.
This new figure wore a long white overdress with black accents and deep green underskirt peeking through, and as Rhaya caught the color of her hair, her heart caught in her chest.
It was the same shade as her own.
"That's...." the redhead gasped.
The other young woman carried herself with confidence, wine-red eyes taking in the town expectantly, as if she was checking that everything had been kept in place while she was away. Her long hair was pulled back away from her face in a twisted braid, gathered to let the ends of her hair cascade down her back in loose waves. The reddened locks shone in the afternoon light as if they were freshly washed this morning.
She could have been bald, or dressed in nothing but rags, Rhaya would have recognized her sister all the same.
She bolted toward the group with a breathless cry of her sibling's name, not caring one whit about her strange company, surging past the miners before any of them could stop her.
She couldn't remember running so fast towards anything before, rushing towards her kin so fast she ran clear out of one of her shoes, the worn leather sliding off her foot and tumbling forgotten in the dust behind her. Her sister was only a few years older than herself, but she looked almost as mature as their mother had. She glanced toward her as she neared, her expression softening as she left her companions to come closer, meeting her a few paces closer, opening her arms.
Rhaya all but crashed into Solyana Nahl, her small fists wrapping the older girl in as fierce a hug as her eleven year old hands could muster, sobbing with helpless relief at seeing her sister again. She'd lost track of how many yearning dreams she'd had of this moment, but this was nothing like any of those. Her sister was solid in her arms, the tears streaming down her cheeks were hot, and she felt her sister's hand stroking her hair as she shushed her tenderly, assuring her that things were alright, that she was home now.
The distant approach of hooves didn't phase her, it was only the sharp commanding voice of her father that caught her attention, snapping through the air like a whip as he called her name, telling her to back away.
The young mage wasn't one to be rebellious by nature, after all her father always had everyone's best intentions in mind, but the demand was so confusing she froze entirely, unable to process her sire's words.
But her sister, as always, knew just what to do, guiding her gently to her side with one arm still around Rhaya's shoulders, and the weight was as relieving as her favorite blanket.
Their father was mounted, Rail Nahl staring down at them with a deep frown, as if he'd caught them sneaking somewhere they shouldn't have been. Sitting beside him as always was his close friend Mal, the best warrior in Malinder, and perhaps the entirety of the mountain. He was a harsh keeper of the peace, but Rhaya had always known him to be fair, and most of the time he didn't need a sword to make folks pay attention.
He was staring at the newcomers with a strange agitation she didn't understand, and if she didn't know better she might have thought he was afraid.
"Why are you with these people?" their father demanded.
Rhaya could only blink in abject confusion. Why did they seem upset? Solyana was home!
"Is that any way to treat your kin, returned from sojourn?" Solyana replied coolly. "I'm disappointed," she scoffed, looking around at the small assembly that had gathered. "The first thought is to treat outsiders with suspicion, those who have done nothing but enable safe travel?"
Rhaya agreed wholeheartedly. Despite who the travelers were, Solyana clearly had been treated well. The garment she wore was high quality, finer even than her mother's old coat; and she felt bad for gripping the fabric so tightly, but she was too scared to let go and risk her sister disappearing again.
The older girl didn't appear to mind, her arm still about Rhaya's shoulders in a loose embrace. "It's no wonder Malinder's hardly changed. How can this town grow at all if it snarls at every newcomer like some half-dead beast scared of its own shadow?"
"You seemed to have little care for this place last we spoke," their father frowned from his horse, auburn eyes narrowed at the memory of an argument Rhaya didn't recall. "Why return now?"
"I never lacked for care!" Solyana shouted back, her voice carrying across the clearing. "But what happened to our town never should have been!"
Rhaya stiffened, but Solyana kept her arm on her shoulder in steady reassurance.
"If we were a proper town, we would have had what we needed - medicine, a real clinic, the knowledge of what we needed to do to survive! So many of our loved ones died, and for what! If the Bleeding Fever came back today would we just hide ourselves in our burrows like rats again? Malinder was founded to be so much more than a sheep pasture and an orchard!"
More townsfolk approached, drawn by the conviction of Solyana's speech. The fourteen-year-old's voice was steel, ringing with passion, and none dared interrupt and challenge its edge. "Not a single stone has changed since I left. There are malinderwood trees all over this mountaintop! Why do we only harvest tea leaves and berries when we could make wine as well? We trade in wool and sheep, but why not also malinderwood, or the rocks of the mountain itself?" She gestured to the strangers behind her. "There's opportunities for our people, we need the strength to seize them! Malinder has so much to offer, and with the proper connections we can go anywhere! Levant, Eastpol, Glistol - we can even trade our goods beyond the Ashtoli! Our wagons ferret about the base of the hills when our name should be known across the entirety of Alset! The only way for our town to grow is to take those chances for better trade! If we want more resources we have to pursue them, we can't just wait for them to come to the mountain's crest!"
The townfolk murmured with agreement, and even their father's hard eyes softened as he considered the possibilities Solyana had spoken of.
"Every single one of the kingdom's mightiest settlements started as meager hamlets smaller than ours, but they knew their worth and leveraged it to become great. Malinder deserves a share of that greatness. Don't you agree, father?"
Rail Nahl was steady as always as the crowd's attention went back to him. "No one knows better than us how hard we toil for what little we have," he replied, looking around to the others as more nods and remarks of agreement began to simmer. "If these traders can help make that work more worthwhile, it's worth investing in ourselves."
Cheers went up around the clearing as the energy boiled over, excitement rippling through Malinder as talk turned to trade and what could be done to organize the village's industries to make profit.
Their father hailed the traders to join him with the council while they talked about where to house these new people and their goods, and the crowd dispersed with higher spirits than they'd begun with, filled with optimism for the future.
All that business didn't concern Rhaya one whit as she clung to Solyana's skirt, but her sister's hand rubbing her back bid her to release it.
"I'm so glad you're back," Rhaya sniffled, her voice still trembling from all the emotions which were flooding out of her, back from wherever they seemed to have vanished to after her sister's departure.
"Why should there have been any doubt?" Solyana replied, one delicate trimmed eyebrow raised. "Malinder is my home."
Rhaya knew why she had left. She knew in her heart that it was her fault - her failure - that had driven her sister away. "I h-healed you, but when I woke up mom was-" she swallowed hard, trying her hardest not to cry but feeling tears running down her cheeks all the same. "Dad said you ran away because of it."
Solyana shifted, cupping Rhaya's face with her hands. The fine silk of the gloves was smooth against her cheeks, but the older girl didn't seem to acknowledge the fabric as she wiped at Rhaya's cheeks with her thumbs. "No more tears, little sister. The past is dead."
"You don't... blame me?"
Solyana's wine-colored gaze was cool as her hands withdrew. "We must look to the future."
There wasn't an answer there, and Rhaya didn't know if she was relieved or devastated. "The... future?"
"I've so many stories to tell you, of all the things I've seen out there," the older girl replied, staring around the hamlet, as if cataloging every blade of grass and leaf and stone. "There's so much to do to bring this place what it needs, and I can't do it alone." She turned back to her, gloved hands taking hers. "Won't you help me, dear sister?"
She'd never been more sure about anything in her entire life. "Of course I will!" Rhaya insisted, nodding emphatically. "Anything! Whatever you need!"
Solyana Nahl's lips twinged with a satisfied smile as she leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. "I have such plans," she whispered. "I know you'll do good work."