3. Azayan

It’s getting stronger, isn’t it?

This is an installment in a serialized novel. To start at the beginning, go here.

Rahn squinted against the sun as she made her way down the slope. The valley before her shone like a jewel, a swath of brilliant green against the impossibly blue sky. Among the encircling peaks, the threads of small waterfalls sparkled in the sun, filling a stream that glinted along the length of the valley. The tent settlement was concentrated near the western end. The Summer Home never ceased to be beautiful, even if the sight of the village put a knot in Rahn’s stomach.

She entered the settlement, making her way down the avenue lined loosely with tents. Most people were away grazing their herds or hunting, and any children who had managed to evade their responsibilities for the day would be larking about the surrounding slopes. But the older men and women, as well as a few younger women with infants, remained in the camp, cooking, mending gear, and keeping an eye on the small children who frolicked about. Rahn kept her head down as she passed. The hawk, bundled under one arm, had finally ceased its shrieking and seemed to be looking around in quiet fury. Rahn’s left hand was still bleeding.

When she came to the tent she was looking for, she saw that the door had been left open to let in the breeze. 

Azayan was sitting near the window, nursing her baby.  Rahn was struck by the softness of the image. In childhood, Azayan had always been tall and wild, running around, general to a motley squad of children, barking orders as she orchestrated the daily battles.  She always led the attack, dashing into the fray with her wooden sword and a mad grin on her face. Rahn had been on the sides, too little to join the battles, watching her tall, fierce cousin with pride.

Now at nineteen, reclining on a cushion with her dark curls hanging loose, Azayan looked more like a queen than a general.

“Babu is looking nice and fat,” said Rahn, setting down her things and carefully placing her bundled cloak by the door.

“Yes, this boy is hungry all the time. And as a result, so am I. Can you hand me one of those honey cakes?”

Rahn grabbed two cakes from a basket on a little table, handing one to Azayan and taking another for herself, sniffing the fragrant bread before taking a bite. “This is why I come to visit you, Zaiza. Your mother never makes these for me.”

“Your hand is bleeding,” noted Azayan.

“Yes… I tried to make a friend today, but I think I’ve made an enemy instead.” Rahn shook her head, moving to pick up the bundle by the door. “I was hoping you might be able to help.” Rahn began to unwrap the cloak.

There was an explosion of wings and talons. Azayan turned away, shielding her baby and wincing from the screeches of the hawk and the shouts of Rahn, who was trying to defend her face from the wild, feathery onslaught. After a few moments of struggle, Rahn managed to pin the hawk again under her arm. It gave up the fight with a last angry shriek.  Rahn wrapped the bird again in her cloak and flopped breathlessly onto the cushion, wiping at a new trickle of blood from where a talon had met her ear. “Stupid bird,” she scowled. “I should have left it out there for a fox to eat, Dayhawk or not.”

Azayan stood, bouncing the startled baby. “Well,” she said, “she’s definitely got spirit. That was an impressive fight for a hawk that took an arrow through her wing today.”

Rahn looked up, holding her bleeding earlobe. She was familiar with Azayan’s odd tendency to know things that she shouldn’t have known, but it still unnerved her.

The baby had calmed. Azayan laid it on the mat and brought over a bowl of clean water and a rag.  “It’s a good thing she didn’t get you in the eye,” Azayan said as she began to clean the wound. Rahn continued to scowl. 

“I remember,” said Azayan, “when you were about the size of my son here–you didn’t have a name yet either.” She finished with the bowl and brought over a bit of clean cloth. “I was so happy to finally have a sister-cousin. For weeks I wouldn’t let Huki or any of the other children go near you—I wanted you all to myself.” Azayan smiled as she tied a strip of cloth around Rahn’s ear. “That’s a bit awkward, but it should do the job.”

Rahn looked at her friend.  Something about Azayan’s eyes made her seem older than her nineteen years. They were the eyes of someone who had experienced deep sadness, but when Azayan looked at her, Rahn felt only kindness and love.

“Now, let’s have a look at our other injured girl.” Azayan reached toward the bundled hawk.

“Wait!” Rahn protested. “Don’t unwrap it again!”

Yet Azayan had already loosened the cloak and reached for the hawk. Rahn lifted her arm instinctively, ready for mayhem.

But the bird simply blinked as Azayan drew it from its restraint with her bare hand. Azayan held it up and looked it in the eye.

Azayan’s eyes were green—shockingly green, beyond that of anyone else Rahn knew, and as Azayan looked at the hawk, her eyes almost seemed to shine with a light of their own. The hawk bore the inspection peacefully. After a moment, it began preening its feathers, though one wing still fell limp. Azayan looked carefully at the injured wing. “Hand me a long strip of that cloth.” She nodded at Rahn.

Rahn obeyed, watching in amazement as Azayan bound the hawk’s wing securely in place against its body. The bird remained calm throughout the process. 

Azayan carefully offered the bird to Rahn. Rahn reached out hesitantly, but the hawk did not resist.

“That wing will take a few weeks to heal,” said Azayan, “so you’ll need to take good care of her until then. She won’t fight you like before– she understands now that you were trying to help.”

“Zaiza…” Rahn looked away, then back at the older girl. “You’re… changing. It’s getting stronger, isn’t it? Your Sight?”

Azayan sighed. Her eyes seemed to focus on something far away. “Yes,” she said softly, “I can see further, now.”

“Zaiza,” Rahn hesitated. “Can you see anything… about me?”

Azayan looked at Rahn, returning from her reverie. She smiled, though her eyes held both love and pity. “I can’t see everything. There are many paths. But change is coming for us all soon–for you, for me, our village. Our Mother will die soon, Nerahnen, and I will be Mother in her place.”

“Zaiza!” Rahn gasped. “I mean, I guess I always knew that you would be Mother some day. But I thought… you are so young! And the Mother… shouldn’t she have foreseen this herself?”

Azayan looked troubled. “Her vision has been… clouded, lately.” She fell silent, eyes distant.

“Well,” Rahn cleared her throat, “I suppose, if you’re to be Mother, at least you have some practice now. From what I understand, being a mother is mostly about cleaning up other people’s crap.”

Azayan laughed. “It’s not so bad, really, that part. I suppose when you love someone enough, you do what you have to do.”

There was a shout outside, and a growing murmur of voices.

Rahn and Azayan looked at each other, then Azayan picked up her baby and they ducked outside.