The Anarii Chronicles III
The Becoming
This is the continuing story of Morgana’s spiritual journey. As Morgana joins the Mirii at Zerren’s Gate Hold, she continues to struggle with her growing abilities and awareness of the Forbidden, while those close to her are beginning to undergo their own awakening. Meanwhile, her beloved Drek'h is sent back to the Sumarkh Plateau, a journey that will force him to reclaim his past, and where he learns the truth of the Mirii’s Covenant with the Unnamed Azerii before he can reunite with Morgana once again.
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A Glimpse of
The Children of the Anarii III
The Becoming
From Chapter 1
As Drek’h entered the camp his senses seemed to swim briefly, then the calm knowing of this clan filled him with unexplained feelings. These people were distant cousins to his mother’s clan. He knew the markings of the Hunters’ clothing well enough, remembering them from his grandmother’s sleeves when he and his mother had lived with her family for a time in his childhood. Of the half dozen tents that made up the clan camp he recognized the symbols of his youth with startling clarity. This is your family, the words danced faintly through his mind as he met the quickened glances that fell his way, wondering briefly with a flicker of fear if someone would remember him. But none of the eyes revealed more than the curious interest of a stranger come into their midst, and only the eyes of the few children truly danced.
They stopped at a tent which was the closest to the water flowing next to the cliff face, a quiet spring that widened into a deep pool, a gift of the Lady, he privately thought. The tent was marked with the clan Elder’s symbols. He wondered who was Elder to such a small group, then he saw her.
She glanced up briefly from her spinning, twisting the yarn between her fingers just like he remembered she had so many years before, with the same ease, even though her fingers revealed the years spent at this and other tasks. Dark gray eyes gazed from an open face, the skin creased yet smooth and taut. Her silver hair was pulled back into a wide braid that fell over one shoulder and pooled in her lap as she sat beside the entrance of the tent. Her sight met his then returned to her hand work.
Tolbek’h knelt before her. “Grandaunt, the Healers have come. The Storm-Rynnok’h Clan has brought us the help you asked for.”
“Healers? I see but one Healer here, and he wears the red of the Mirii,” she stated firmly, her eyes never raising from the bright gold threads between her fingers.
Callent knelt beside Tolbek’h. “Which man is the Healer, Grandlady? Which do you require?”
The old woman raised her gaze to Callent. A faint scowl etched her lips. “You have been too long warrior. Your companion, of course.” She carefully placed the spinning tools into a basket beside her and rose to her feet without the offered aid of either man, then scuttled to the tent flap. “Come, Mirii Healer,” she ordered as she raised a hand towards Drek’h. “Come,” she repeated and stepped inside the tent.
Callent looked up at his young friend. “I think she means you, alone.”
Inside the tent an old man was stretched out on a sleeping pallet, his brow sweat-dotted and his face streaked with fever. His long gray hair had been pulled to one side and braided; it trailed limply beside his right shoulder. The woman knelt at his side and placed her hands on his chest, patting and rubbing gently. “He came to us, by his own power—not the Lii,” she said softly, then looked back at Drek’h as he stood frozen near the man’s feet. “He came for you, to be healed.”
Drek’h stared at the elder lying before him under the light covering of a woven blanket. It was his father.
And the journey continues...
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