Seer's Hope

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Seven

Hope bade a hasty farewell to Varaya. Her pulse thumped a doom-laden tattoo and the bleak darkness of her world closed in on her. She pushed it back, forced herself to take deep, even breaths... and realized with a jolt that while she'd been wrestling with her fears, the young man she was supposed to follow had run on ahead.

She could no longer sense him. Perhaps he didn't know he was supposed to wait for her. Or hadn't been told of her blindness. She should turn back, ask Varaya to take her to Maya's, but....

No. She firmed her lips and threw back her shoulders. She could do this. How hard could it be to find her own way? She'd managed perfectly well back home.

It was harder than she could have imagined. Very soon she'd lost all sense of direction. Worse, now there didn't seem to be any people about to assist with directions. Hope loosed a few choice words beneath her breath. Oh well. It wasn't the end of the world. When she didn't arrive shortly after the messenger, Blayne would surely come looking for her. She trudged along the meandering, dusty path, vowing not to be so pig-headed in future.

She was debating trying to retrace her steps when voices drifted to her ears. Relief coursed through her. "Hello? I am lost. Can you help me?"

Silence.

Nice. They could at least—

She smacked into a solid object. A man. His rough hands clutched her when she staggered.

"Hey, watch it, girlie. Ya blind or something?"

"Yes, I am." She arched back, struggling to free herself from his grasp. "Please, I want to find Blayne—"

"She wants Blayne."

Footsteps, heavy and measured. "Her and every other woman," came another disgruntled voice.

Her captor sniggered. The ripe smell of the liquor on his breath made her gag, and the first stirrings of fear swirled in the pit of her stomach.

"Who've you got there?" the second man asked.

"No clue. Hey girlie, how's about a kiss for ole Willem?"

"Let me go. Blayne has sent for me. I need to go to him." She kicked him, frantically twisting to escape his grasping fingers.

"Leave her alone, Willem. See her eyes? She's the new apprentice people are talking about. Dayamar'll have your guts for rope."

"Ya take me for a fool, Dorian? She's blind. No way she's the one."

He yanked her close and Hope turned her face so his searching mouth connected with her ear. She kneed him but he pincered her knee between his thighs before she could do any real damage. Her continued struggles pulled her off-balance and she and her attacker fell, legs tangled, in a sprawling heap on the ground.

Hope landed hard, whacking her head on the firmly packed ground. Stars cavorted through her headspace. She moaned. The man—Willem—laughed. "See Dorian? She's not really interested in Blayne. She prefers a real man like me. Doncha, girlie?"

She was only dimly aware of the other man—Dorian—begging Willem to release her. Her conscious mind had fled, leaving behind a hollow void that demanded to be filled. A tremendous roar reverberated through her body, and the energy that surged in its wake was scalding hot. Her skin felt like an overripe grape, ready to split, and then power surged from her, leaving her limp and gasping.

Willem's oppressive weight vanished. His shriek ululated through the too-still air, stippling Hope's skin with goose-bumps. She clapped her hands over her ears. But when his scream abruptly ceased and silence reigned, that was somehow worse.

She pushed up from the ground, scrubbing her face with her hands to banish the wooziness from her mind and the strange lethargy from her body. God. She felt like she'd run a marathon. Her attention flicked to the pounding of running footsteps, coming closer.

Friend or foe? Her sluggish heartbeat ratcheted up another notch.

"Shikari's hairy paws, what's going on?" the newcomer demanded. "Did he try to force himself on you?" He clasped his hands beneath Hope's elbows to haul her upright and then he brushed down her clothes. "Dorian, you piece of crap, answer me. What did Willem do to her?"

Friend, then. Just as well. She was too drained to defend herself again.

"He was only trying to kiss her," Dorian whined. "You know what he's like. But she fell over, a-and— Gods!" His voice broke, squeaking with fear. "Her eyes are glowing."

"Yes, I can see that." The newcomer sounded more amused than worried. "Willem bit off more than he could chew this time. This little lady is Dayamar's new apprentice."

"I don't care who she is. Make her stop!"

"Are you doing that to him, Sehan?" the newcomer asked her.

"I... I do not know what is being done to him. Maybe?"

"Of course. My apologies." He paused as if choosing his words. "Here's what I'm seeing. Willem is unable to move or speak. He's spread-eagled on the ground, looking terrified out of his tiny mind. And I believe you're responsible for his current, uh, predicament, Sehan. Do you think you might see fit to release him?"

Sure. If only she knew how. God, what was she doing to him? How was she doing it? The panic grew, threatening to swamp her.

"Sehan?"

"I am trying," she told him. And then, a corner of her mind disengaged from... from... something, and there was a twanging sound, as though a line had been pulled taut. Willem groaned once and then fell silent.

"Is he hurt?" Please God she hadn't killed the man.

The newcomer left her, presumably to check on Willem. "Unconscious," he reported. "Pulse seems strong and steady, though. Dorian, drag this heap of shit to the Healing Hall. And don't discuss this with anyone or Sehan Dayamar will have your hide—after I'm done with you, that is."

He approached and touched her arm. "I'll take you to Dayamar. He needs to hear what happened." His voice lowered to a mutter. "And when he does, I wouldn't want to be in Willem's boots."

"May I ask your name?"

"Of course. I'm Gerayne. Dayamar is my great-great-granduncle. I'm truly sorry we met in such circumstances."

Hope fumbled with her torn shirt and was irritated to find her hands shaking.

"Allow me." He deftly tied her shirtfronts together. "Hmm. Bad scrape you've got there. Your cheek is bleeding." He dabbed at it with something—his sleeve, at a guess. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"My head." She indicated the place with her fingers, and winced when he probed the lump that was forming.

"Ouch. I'm not much of a healer so best get Blayne to look at that. Where is Blayne anyway? Why were you wandering alone down this way?"

"Maya's father died. Blayne sent a man to fetch me but I got lost." She knew her voice sounded thin and shaky but she refused to give in to tears. One over-amorous drunk with foul breath was not going to make her cry in front of a stranger.

Gerayne inhaled sharply. "That's sad news indeed. Maya's now his only living relative so his body will have been taken to her home. That's where Blayne will likely be. I'll take you there."

"Thank you."

He hooked his arm through hers, and as he led her up the path, she wondered at his easy acceptance of her. "Why are you not scared of me like the other man?"

"With Dayamar as a relative, I've become inured to the unusual and unexpected. Though I can't say I recall him doing anything that interesting when he got annoyed. He prefers to flay people alive with his tongue."

He was silent for a long moment, and she sensed he was observing her expression. Wait for it—

"You haven't the slightest idea how you pinned Willem like that, have you?"

"None."

"Dayamar's going to have his hands full with you." Gerayne chuckled, and a little of Hope's inner tension eased.

"You will need to begin training very soon," he said. "Not that Willem doesn't deserve whatever you threw at him, but you might have seriously hurt him. This time you were lucky."

Gerayne was right. And there was no point railing over fate. Or telling herself that magic didn't exist and what had happened to her was impossible. She was here. Her eyes had changed color. She saw visions that came true. She had magical powers. And now she must do whatever it took to insure she didn't harm others with her ignorance. End of story.

Her lower lip wobbled. Fine words, but they didn't banish the tight fear in her chest that made it hard to catch her breath, or calm the panic simmering in her belly.

~*~

Blayne spotted them from the doorway. He took in Hope's disheveled clothing and pale, bleeding cheek, and snatched her from Gerayne's side. She muffled her face in his chest. The worry churning in his gut kindled to slow-burning fury. "What happened?"

"No need to glare at me like that," Gerayne said. "Your idiot messenger left her to find her own way."

"Kunnandi's teeth. I told him to—" Blayne swallowed the angry words. "I'll deal with him later. Tell me what happened."

"Willem happened. She ran into him and he decided to have a little fun."

"Did he—?" Blayne couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"No." Gerayne shook his head emphatically. "He might be a drunk but he's never gone that far. And by the time I happened on the scene, your little Sehan had the matter well in hand."

Hope gave a full-body shudder and burrowed closer. Blayne rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back. "What did you do to him, sweetling? You can tell me."

She lifted her head from his chest. His heart fisted at the misery on her tear-stained face. "I-I do not know," she said.

"She had Willem spread-eagled on the ground, unable to move or even scream. Dorian nearly wet himself."

"Dorian was there, too?" Blayne ground his teeth. The palm smoothing Hope's back clenched into a fist and he forced himself to relax. "Go on," he told Gerayne.

"Dorian's too weak-willed to prevent Willem doing anything—you know that. I had him take Willem to a healer, and told him to keep his mouth shut. You'll want to see them both later, I presume."

"Indeed." And he would make them both regret the day they were born. "Thank you for coming to Hope's aid, Gerayne."

"Any decent man would have done the same."

Blayne hugged Hope tighter, furious with the men who'd accosted her, blaming himself for not being there to protect her. "I can't leave you alone for a moment, can I?" he said, hoping to elicit a smile.

"I am sorry. I got lost, and—"

"Hush. There's nothing to apologize for. Gerayne, would you fetch Dayamar? He left a short while ago for the Sehani Hall."

"Sure. You should check her out thoroughly, Blayne. She's got a nasty bump on the back of her head."

"Thanks, Gerayne. For everything."

The other man nodded and loped off. Blayne ushered Hope inside, shielding her from a group of people conversing in hushed tones—friends of Maya's father, who had all come to pay their respects. Fortunately they were too preoccupied to pay any great attention to newcomers.

Cayl spotted them and detached himself from the group. "You've found her." He blinked at her tear-streaked face. "Kunnandi's snaky fangs, what happened?"

"I'll fill you in when we talk privately with Dayamar. I'd like Maya to be there—is she up to it? I'm sorry, Cayl. I know it's shitful timing but this can't wait." Maya's sister had been Sehani. Any personal insights Maya could reveal about a fledgling Sehan coming into her powers could be invaluable.

Cayl searched his face. Then he gave a terse nod and beckoned them to follow.

Maya's father had been dressed in his burial clothes and laid out on a sleeping platform in the spare room. A few of his most prized possessions lay beside him, including the carved staff Hope had described in her Seeing. The reminder of what Hope would become chilled Blayne to his bones. It was the one thing he couldn't protect her from.

Maya was kneeling by the sleeping platform, head pillowed on her arms. She lifted her head and her hand flew to her mouth. "Wisa's wings! Hope, you look like you've been dragged backward through a bramble bush. What happened?"

"Her powers have begun to manifest," Blayne said. "We need to discuss this with Dayamar at once, and we—" He squeezed her shoulder. "I need your input, Maya. I'm truly sorry for the awful timing."

"Of course. I completely understand." Maya blotted her face with the heels of her hands as she stood. "Cayl, please apologize to everyone and tell them they must go. Make something up about me being too distraught to cope with any more visitors. It's not far from the truth. Tell them I appreciate their kind thoughts and we'll see them tomorrow at Father's burial."

"Don't fret, sweetling. I'll deal with it." Cayl dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and exited the room.

"How are you bearing up, Maya?" Blayne asked.

She wiped her eyes with the hem of her shirt. "I've had plenty of time to come to terms with his illness. His death wasn't unexpected. I'll be fine."

Blayne noticed Hope's gaze had fixed on the exact spot where Maya stood. Her ability to sense people and her surroundings was growing.

"I am sorry, Maya," she said. "This is all my fault." Her lower lip trembled.

"He was dying long before you arrived on the scene, Hope. So let's hear no more nonsense about it being your fault."

Maya was a strong woman but Blayne had feared her father's death would hit her hard. He suspected having Hope to fuss over helped Maya put aside her grief. Perhaps something positive might come from this mess.

"I keep a good store of herbs," Maya told him. "You'll find everything you need." She ushered them into the partitioned stores area, keeping her head down so as not to invite conversation from visitors Cayl hadn't yet seen off.

Blayne urged Hope to sit and tilted her chin for a better view of her bleeding cheek.

Maya peered over his shoulder at the injury and handed him a small pot. "It's full of dirt. Nasty. How'd it happen?"

He poured a small amount of lotion onto a soft cloth and dabbed Hope's face. She winced and drew a shaky breath. "I am sorry."

"Stop apologizing. No one thinks you're weak or silly for being upset about being assaulted."

Maya hissed out a breath that promised dire consequences. "Who?"

"His name is Willem," Hope whispered.

Maya swore beneath her breath, and Blayne heard her promise a retribution that would have made any male wince. He applauded her inventiveness. He would like nothing more than to track Willem down and thrash his worthless hide until he begged for mercy. Instead, he cleaned the scrape on Hope's cheek before applying a salve. He sifted his fingers through her hair to gently probe her skull with his fingertips. "Gerayne's right. There's a good-sized lump on the back of your head."

Maya placed a small flask within his reach. "Thanks," he said. "You'd make an excellent healer's assistant."

"I'd miss the children too much to consider changing trades."

"Our loss. How's your head feeling now, Hope?"

"Sore. It aches."

Blayne shook a few drops of the fragrant oil into a bowl of water and soaked a cloth. He wadded the cloth, held it to the lump on her head, and instructed her to breathe deeply. "The compress will help bring down the swelling. Inhaling the oil's aroma should help ease the headache, too."

"I've made you a special tea, Hope." Maya handed her a mug. "Drink this—it'll also help your headache. It's a bit bitter but very effective."

While Hope sipped the brew, Blayne examined her face. She seemed calmer and her natural color was returning. Good. "Any other injuries we should know about?" There'd better not be or heads would roll.

"No." She flipped her hair back from her face to toy absently with an earring.

His stomach performed a lazy dip and roll. "Where did you get those earrings?"

"Varaya gave them to me. To welcome me, and for friendship. It was very nice of her, do you not think?"

"Well—" Over her head, Blayne cast a pleading glance at Maya, hoping she would help him out. Just his luck for once Maya had nothing to say.

"I know you gave these to Varaya," Hope said, "but she wants me have them. She says they are for me now, because I am with you."

When he remained silent, she gnawed her lip. "Are you angry?"

He guessed Hope hadn't considered how he might feel about her wearing earrings he'd gifted to another woman until now. "Not angry," he said, "merely surprised Varaya would be so generous with someone she hardly knows."

"Varaya is lonely. She cries when no one can see. She needs a friend. And I like her." Her lips firmed to a tight line and those eerie golden eyes glared at him.

Blayne exchanged another glance with Maya, who only shrugged and said, "The earrings look wonderful on you, Hope. They suit your coloring very well. Oh, listen to that. It's so blissfully quiet. I think Cayl's seen off the last of our guests." She exited the room in a rush.

Blayne took Hope's hand and drew her close. The healer in him knew she had come to little harm, but the man needed reassurance. He needed to touch her, hold her. She shivered as he kissed a tender spot beneath her ear. It wasn't a shiver of fear. Some of his anxiety eased.

"Dayamar's here."

Maya's warning doused the flames that'd sprung up the instant Blayne kissed her neck. Hope ducked her head to hide a grimace as he ushered her into the main living area. She didn't want to have to relate what had happened all over again for Dayamar's benefit. She didn't want to be cajoled into admitting that something had irrevocably altered inside her.

Her perceptions of the world about her were sharpening. Sometimes she could sense people's emotions. Sometimes, in her mind's eye, she could see vibrant colors swirling about a shadowy representation of a person standing close by. How any of this could be possible was beyond her. Added to her visions, and now this incident with Willem....

What kind of creature was she becoming?

She pinpointed Dayamar's location before he spoke. "You needed to speak with me urgently, Blayne," he said.

"Yes, Sehan Dayamar. It's about Hope."

Another visitor knocked at the door. "Gods," Maya muttered. "Are we to have no peace? Come in!"

Varaya.

Hope waited to see if she was correct....

She was.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sehan Dayamar, but I.... I overheard something and I came to check on Hope. To f-find out whether she's all right." Varaya's words tumbled out as though she half-expected to be dismissed.

"I'm fine," Hope assured her. Hah. What a lie. There was nothing the least bit "fine" about this whole situation.

"Take a seat, Varaya," Dayamar said.

"She has nothing to do with the Seeing."

Maya sounded snippy. Hope guessed there was no love lost between the two women. Too, she sensed Varaya's weary acceptance of Maya's attitude, the belief that she deserved such treatment.

Hope couldn't let it slide. "I have had a vision of Varaya, too, Maya. Varaya was present and I described it to her."

"Sit, Varaya," Dayamar said. "You'll have valuable information to share if you've been present during one of Hope's Seeings.

Varaya took a seat next to Hope and briefly squeezed her hand. Hope felt her friend tremble, and abruptly wished she'd kept quiet and hadn't involved Varaya in this discussion. Too late now.

"Tell us what happened, Varaya," Dayamar said.

Varaya's voice wobbled as she related the incident. "I was truly scared," she finished. "But then Hope came back to herself and acted like nothing had happened."

"What did you See, Hope?" Dayamar asked.

She heaved a sigh. Pointless to try and hide anything from the old man when he could rummage about in her mind. She related her vision with as much detail as she could recall.

"She described the dress I had made for my Promising," Varaya added. "She wouldn't tell me what the man she saw looked like, though."

"Rightly so," Dayamar said. "Hope should not influence your choice, Varaya. No more questions about this man. Is that clear?"

He spoke in clipped, no-nonsense tones, and Hope got the sense of Varaya ducking her head like a chastened child. But before she could speak up on her friend's behalf Dayamar said, "It's not the first Seeing you've had since you arrived here, is it, Hope?"

She swallowed another sigh. "No, Dayamar. I saw Maya and Cayl at her father's burial." She fluttered a hand at Maya in tacit apology.

"I am given to understand that Seeing occurred after you drank sekar."

"Yes. I was thirsty and drank a lot of it. I felt dizzy. Maya hugged me when she said goodbye. That is when I had the vision."

"Interesting. I believe the liquor lowered your inhibitions and opened your mind to the potential to See. And then touch triggered the Seeing."

"Hmm." Maya seemed to be mulling his words. "I'd hugged her, and she was comforting Varaya."

"Touch is the key, then," Cayl said. He'd been quiet for so long Hope had almost forgotten he was there. "Would you agree Sehan Dayamar?"

"Perhaps."

"It happened like that with my sister when she first became Sehani," Maya said, and Hope could clearly hear the underlying pain threaded through Maya's words. "The Seeings would come whenever she touched someone."

"Katya was a fragile soul," Dayamar said. "She wasn't strong enough to contain or control her gift."

Hope winced at the blunt summation.

"And she is?" Maya said. "Look at her! How do you think she's going to cope with becoming Sehani? Look me in right the eye Sehan Dayamar, and tell me she won't be overwhelmed by it, too."

"I am strong," Hope said, keeping her tone level but determined to have her say. "I had to be to cope with losing my family and my sight in one foul swoop."

"Gods," Maya said. "I'm sorry, Hope. I didn't mean to suggest—"

"I know. And I understand. Do not worry yourself about it."

"How do you explain the incident with Willem?" Blayne said. "I would hardly describe what she did to him as Seeing."

"Incident?" Dayamar's tone was sharp enough to cut. "Did he harm you, Hope?"

"Not really. At the time I was frightened but the fear has passed." That much was the truth. Given the outrage she'd encountered over Willem's actions, it was obvious such behavior was neither commonplace nor condoned in Dayamari society. She'd simply been unlucky—in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The old man blew out an audible breath that smacked of relief.

"I am more resilient than you realize, Dayamar. It will take more than one drunk man pawing me to make me cower in my boots, and render me incapable of going about my business." It was a brave speech. Unfortunately she spoiled the effect by jerking and biting back a squeak when Blayne squeezed her hand.

Varaya gave a muffled giggle and even Dayamar laughed. "I'm pleased to hear it. Tell me what else happened with Willem."

Once again she related the incident. Her voice cracked as she recalled the power coursing through her.

Blayne draped his arm across her shoulders and she leaned into him, grateful for his support. "Willem is a drunkard and a coward," he said. "I intend to petition the elders for him to be severely disciplined."

His emotions played over her skin like tiny pricking needles. Barely suppressed fury was uppermost. When Blayne next encountered Willem, he would make the man's life a misery.

Memories coursed through Hope's mind. They were not her memories, they were Willem's. And although she couldn't condone his behavior, she understood what drove him... and she pitied him. "What I felt inside and what I did is what truly scares me, Blayne—not Willem's behavior," she felt compelled to say.

"The man will likely be banished after this incident," Dayamar said. "It's not the first time he has acted inappropriately toward women. Describe again what you felt, Hope."

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly desert-dry, heart pounding in her chest. It was a struggle to verbalize what she had felt so that others could understand. "I-I felt empty. There was a loud noise in my head. Something filled me up. It hurt. Then it left me and he—Willem—was gone, like someone had lifted him off me. But we were still joined together somehow." And she feared they were still joined, for she could sense him—a tickling sensation at the periphery of her mind.

"Gerayne told me Willem was on the ground, unable to move or speak. He said when I... when I released Willem, he passed out."

"You're strong, young woman," Dayamar said. "Very strong."

"I do not know what I did. I did not mean to, but I hurt him somehow. Is he recovered? Does anyone know?"

"Cayl, go to the Healing Hall and check how Willem fares," Dayamar ordered. "Have a healer guard him closely until the elders send for him."

"Very well, Sehan Dayamar." Cayl surged to his feet and left the room at a run.

Blayne was a healer, used to observing a patient's body language. He knew Dayamar was shocked by what Hope had related. Perhaps even Dayamar had failed to foresee Hope's strength and innate ability. He tightened his grip on her shoulders. Until now he hadn't considered that she could be a wild talent, an unknown entity. What if Dayamar couldn't train her?

His gaze lingered on her, drinking her in. With her pale face, bleeding cheek, and a nose reddened from crying, she looked too fragile to be the receptacle of such awe-inspiring powers. Only her golden eyes marked her and set her apart. Some would say she had been "blessed" by the gods. Blayne was beginning to think it more a curse—for them both. He didn't want to lose her to Dayamar and the demands of the settlement. But he knew her training was crucial. He couldn't hold her back. Her life, and the safety of others, depended on how quickly and how well Hope learned to harness and control her powers.

"Where I come from," Hope began, "I am not a Sehan—"

"We will discuss that later," Dayamar said.

"That kit is already out of the sack, Sehan Dayamar," Maya informed him. "Blayne, Cayl and I already know what you're trying to hide." She dismissed his quelling glance with an airy wave of her hand. "And I'm sure Varaya's trustworthy. Aren't you, Varaya?"

Varaya gulped at the veiled threat and nodded.

Blayne tensed. "Maya—"

"This is my home. And I'll say what I like."

"Maya!" He would have admired her guts if he hadn't been concerned for her welfare. She seemed to be daring Dayamar to exercise his status and prevent her from saying her piece. This situation was escalating into something personal that would be better handled privately—preferably after Maya had recovered from her father's death and wasn't so emotionally volatile.

She didn't heed his warning. "We already know Sehan Dayamar stole Hope from another world," she announced.

Blayne resisted the desire to bury his face in his hands and groan. What was Maya thinking, provoking Dayamar like this? It wouldn't end well.

Varaya clutched Hope's arm, her eyes round with awe. "Truly? You're from another world?"

"Truly."

"Gods, that's incredible! Tell me everything. Is your world like ours? Do you want to go back? I—"

"I would like to know exactly how you discovered this little known fact, Maya." Dayamar fixed her with his piercing golden gaze.

To her credit, Maya didn't flinch. "Hope told us of course. When I asked her how she came to Dayamaria, she straight out told me you brought her here Sehan Dayamar. Why would you do that? Snatch a young woman from her home?"

Blayne suspected the only reason the old man didn't subject Maya to a tongue-lashing she'd never forget—and use his powers to deprive her of her wagging tongue until she learned to hold it—was because he knew Maya had never forgiven him for Katya's death. Maya still believed Dayamar should have been able to save her sister. And deep down, perhaps the old Sehan believed it too.

"She didn't mean to give away your secrets—it was the sekar," Maya said, belatedly realizing she might have gotten Hope into a heap of trouble.

"Please, Dayamar," Hope begged, "would it not be helpful for me to know why I have been brought here?"

Blayne darted a glance Dayamar and glimpsed the smallest of satisfied smiles playing about his lips.

Interesting.

"It seems I'm outnumbered," Dayamar said. "But if you're to truly understand the why of it, you must first understand what we are, and how we came to be."

"We?"

"You and me. Sehani. I will tell you of our history."

"More tea, anyone?" Maya asked, her too-bright tone inexpertly hiding relief.

"I'd recommend you say yes," Blayne told Hope. "Knowing Dayamar's love of history, this won't be the short version."

"You would be correct." Dayamar rubbed his hands with mock glee. "And anyone who believes they may be bored is welcome to depart."

No one moved.

Dayamar took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat. "In the beginning, our gods lived amongst us. They were three, Shikari the Hunter, Kunnandi the Trickster, and Wisa the Soothsayer. Sometimes they took the guise of humans, other times they took animal forms. But whatever their forms, they were recognizable by their glowing golden eyes.

"Shikari was our father-figure. Strong, loyal and fearless—protector of our people. He taught us to live off the land, to know the seasons, to hunt animals for their meat and hides, to build shelters and make tools. Shikari's animal guise was a great silver wolf.

"Wisa was our mother-figure. Loving, nurturing, kind—seer of both the past and future. She taught us the nature of men and women, and how to live and work together. She was wise in the lore of herbs and plants. A white owl was her favored guise.

"Kunnandi was full of cunning and laughter. He taught us that death is not to be feared, for we do not pass from this world without influencing the people around us in some way, and we live forever in the memories of our loved ones. Kunnandi chose a venomous red-banded black serpent as his animal guise.

"The land was fertile. The people were prosperous and content. They respected the land and the wildlife. They watched the seasons turn and became skilled in herb- and plant-lore. The women bore many children, and they were healthy and strong. The gods named them Kiyusari, which means 'Chosen People', and watched over them. Life was good.

"And then a girl-child with golden eyes was born. The elders feared the child was possessed by an evil spirit. They took the baby from her mother and left her on a rocky outcrop, exposed to nature and the will of their gods. But the grieving mother had secretly followed them. She held her child and prayed that death would come quickly for them both.

"Kunnandi heard the baby's cries and came to the mother in his human form. He vowed the gods would raise the girl-child as their own. He bade the young woman return to her people and tell them infants born with golden eyes were blessed by the gods, and must be revered. Then Kunnandi took the baby and vanished.

"Wisa and Shikari were enchanted by the child and named her Dayama. Under their tutelage she grew wise, with a joy of life that rivaled Kunnandi's. But as Dayama neared maturity, she became troubled by strange visions. She foresaw that her beloved gods would forsake the land and no longer walk amongst their people. Filled with anguish and despair, she threw herself into a river and drowned.

"The gods blamed themselves for her senseless death. And then they turned on each other. They fought, and their conflict created an upheaval in the fabric of the land. The earth shook. Unseasonable rains lashed the land, flooding the rivers. Great thunderstorms rushed across the darkened skies. Lightning strikes sparked brushfires that devastated the land. The wildlife fled and the Kiyusari were forced to cower in caves.

"The people importuned their gods. 'We are hungry and afraid. Our land is being destroyed. What have we done to anger you? Please help us!' But the gods were deaf to their pleas until one brave young man ventured outside. He sat on a blackened stump—all that remained of a great forest that had once bordered his settlement—and prayed for his people's salvation.

"Finally, on the morning of the third day, the conflict ceased and the land became calm. The gods sent the young man a vision that changed him forever. From that moment on his eyes were golden, and he could see the past and the future. He told his people the gods understood their grief over their beloved Dayama had almost destroyed their people. They had vowed to give up their earthly forms, and would no longer walk amongst the Kiyusari. As all children must learn to make their own way in the world, the Kiyusari must learn to fend for themselves.

"One by one, the Kiyusari ventured from the caves. At first they despaired, wondering how they would survive. But they were resilient and remembered what they had been taught. They renamed themselves Dayamari, or 'Dayama's People', in memory of the first Sehan who had chosen death rather than live without her gods. They rebuilt their shattered lives and as time passed, the people and the land again prospered. And once in a while there would be sightings of a huge silver wolf, a white owl, or a red-banded black serpent—all with glowing golden eyes. And in every generation, children with golden eyes were born—Sehans—reminding the people that their gods watched over them and their land would never again suffer."

Blayne had heard the story before but Hope's rapt expression made him consider it through new eyes.

"It reminds me of the creation myths from my world," she said. "But what has it to do with me?"

"It's more than a myth, Hope," Blayne told her, anxious for her to understand the importance of the legacy she'd inherited by default. "Dayama was the first of the Dayamari Sehani. When she died, our land almost died too. Until you came, Dayamar was the last of the Sehani. No one had transformed to take Katya's place."

"I have foreseen the end of my days," Dayamar said. "Our people must have a Sehan to guide and protect them. You are that Sehan, Hope."

"Why? What is so important about Sehani?"

"Sehani are our link with our gods," Dayamar explained. "For generations, the Sehani line has remained unbroken and our land has prospered. But the histories record a time, many hundreds of years ago, when the people were uSehani—Seerless—for a generation."

"What happened then?" Hope leaned forward, eager to hear more of the tale.

"The land mourned. The earth spewed fire. Ash blackened the sky and hid the sun for days. Many Dayamari perished. It took the survivors generations to recover from the land's despair."

Hope jerked back as Dayamar's words slapped her. The weight of their beliefs, their expectations, pressed down on her. "You truly believe your land and your people will suffer if you die and there is no one to take your place. That is why you brought me here."

"Yes." His blunt response was shocking as a face full of cold water.

"We all do," Blayne said.

Anxiety tickled her mind—not her own. She sensed Dayamar hadn't revealed the whole truth. Very well. She would bide her time until she was alone with him, and then she would demand answers. He had promised to tell her one thing, though. Damned if she would let that slide. "How did you bring me here?"

"I fasted and meditated for many days. On the fifth day a vision came to me. I took a powerful herb to alter my state of being, and my spirit left its physical shell to cross the boundary between worlds. I traveled many worlds before I found you. And then, to my horror, I was forced to witness your struggle for survival. I feared you might die, and that all would be lost. But you survived. It took me two more years before I had strength enough to call you to the opening between our worlds and bring you here, and without the aid of our gods I would have failed. My knowledge would have been lost forever."

Hope sat open-mouthed, wondering what to say, how to react to the admission he'd found her just as her family had perished. Could it be possible he was the sole reason she'd survived the car-wreck? Mere coincidence, surely.

Hope knew the Dayamari would not be so easily convinced. They held their beliefs tightly to their hearts, nurturing them. The more she professed disbelief, the more she protested, the more tightly they would cling to those beliefs. But truly, gods? Out-of-body journeys to other worlds?

"I do not believe in your gods," she blurted. She heard gasps and straightened her shoulders, meeting their shock full on. "There are many gods in my world, and many who worship them. I am not one of them. I believe you have powers, Dayamar. And I am told my eyes have changed color." She threw up a hand to forestall protests. "I cannot see for myself so I must believe what you tell me. Maybe it is magic. I do not know for certain. I cannot deny that I have visions and yes, I am forced to believe I now have what you call magic, too. But as for gods? No." She shook her head. "There are no gods."

Dayamar refused to give up. "You have been chosen by our gods. Why else did your vision show you the wolf, owl and snake? You have Seen our gods. They have touched your life. You have changed, adapted to our land. If you had not, eventually you would have sickened and perhaps died. You had difficulty breathing when you first arrived here, yes?"

"Yes, that is true."

"That was because our air differs from the air of your home-world. But you have already healed the damage breathing our air caused you."

"Nonsense."

"The gods have gifted you with self-healing, Hope. The scrape on your face no longer bleeds because it has healed. As has the lump on your head. Ask Blayne if you don't believe me."

She probed her face and skull with her fingertips. And felt no pain. Still doubtful, she turned to Blayne.

He examined her, running his fingertips over her cheek and scalp. "It's true, Hope. There's no sign of either injury now." She heard the awe in his voice, knew he wasn't lying.

"Perhaps your healing skills are simply very good, Blayne. Or perhaps you have magic, too."

"I don't. And this rate of healing can't be attributed to my healing skills," he said.

"If I can heal myself, then why can I not see?" There. Let him explain that away.

"But you can, Hope. You're a Sehan. You do not need eyes to See."

Dayamar's gentle tone was little consolation for the turmoil he'd caused. "Soon," he continued, "in your mind's eye, you will be able to see the life-energy given off by all living things. And when you fully accept what you are your blindness will be irrelevant."

Hope grit her teeth. The old man had an answer for everything. "All right, I give up. I am here and I have no way to return home. I will try to help you."

The collective sigh from the group only added to her burdens. And she had the distinct impression Dayamar knew her true feelings but the canny old man didn't press her further. Instead, he began to talk about her daily training schedule—namely spending all available daylight hours at the Sehani Hall learning how to be a "proper" Sehan.

Blayne shifted restlessly beside her. Hope sensed he was about as unimpressed as she was by this schedule. To her relief he spoke up. Citing the need to teach her basic cooking, healing and herb-lore, he insisted she be back home by late afternoon each day. Despite Dayamar pressing him to give in, he refused to back down.

The two argued back and forth, with Maya stirring the pot by tossing in her opinions. Even Varaya spoke her piece, volunteering to be Hope's guide and show her around the settlement whenever Blayne was busy with his healing duties.

Hope felt like a pie that everyone wanted a piece of—a commodity—and although she greatly appreciated Blayne's support, events were spiraling out of control. Everything was being arranged around her, leaving her feeling powerless. She hadn't felt that way since the aftermath of the accident that had blinded her. And she didn't like it one bit.

"Enough! In my world, I am alone. I do what I want, when I want. I decide for me. I will try my best to learn what I must, but if I cannot—if I am incapable—then Dayamar must send me home."

She turned to Blayne, desperate to explain how she felt and why. "Please believe I want stay with you. But if I cannot learn a Sehan's ways, Dayamar must send me back and find another Sehan to take my place."

Dayamar spoke before Blayne could respond. "Fair enough. Give me six months to teach you what you must learn, Hope. If I've not succeeded by then, I will do my utmost to help you return home. Agreed?"

She sagged with relief. A reprieve. Six months was a long time. Anything could happen in six months. "Agreed."

Dayamar also hid his relief. His visions haunted him, becoming more urgent with each passing day. And this young woman who refused to believe in gods or her own abilities was the only hope for his people. She was a catalyst. She'd already profoundly affected Blayne, Varaya and Willem. No matter how narrow her core beliefs, no matter how she doubted her own abilities, she was coming into her powers. Nothing could halt that process.

Hope would soon be a force to be reckoned with, the most potent Seer in Dayamari history—he'd Seen this. But would it be soon enough for her to save his people?

That, he had not foreseen.

~*~

Copyright 2013 Maree Anderson

www.mareeanderson.com