987 AD

"I heard something," Mariah said. She reined in her horse and cast about, listening.

Craggy rocks and desert sand surrounded them. It was late in the day, the winds still hot. The sound of the wind blowing was like a keening ghost among the rocks. Mariah's three companions heard nothing unusual, but they waited patiently. Mariah was sensitive and nervous sometimes. They knew to be patient until she had settled with whatever had disturbed her. Their desert garb fluttered in the winds as they waited. Mariah urged her horse forward and then to the right, leaning that way in her saddle, head tilted as though to catch the slightest anomalous sound. She dismounted. Leaving her horse standing patiently, she began weaving her way among the rocks.

He opened his senses and cast out to see what had attracted the girl's attention. For a moment he sensed nothing unusual, then he realized what it was. It was not a sound that had drawn Mariah away. An ache in the air, fear, incomprehension, hunger and thirst. She had not learned yet to ignore such things. There were too many people so distressed in the world and he and his friends were too few to help them.

Mariah cried out and bent down amongst the rocks. Tran, Grey and Dige dismounted and hurried to see what she had found. Alarmingly, she had taken off her headgear, freeing her long, thick black hair. She was wrapping the cloth around something, all the while murmuring soft, meaningless noises.

She looked up at Grey as they gathered around her. "He needs milk," she pleaded, for Grey's mare had a foal at her side.

There in her arms was a tiny baby, probably no more than a few days old if that. It was covered in dust, and its lips were cracked. The rocks it had lain among had largely sheltered it from the sun. Tran stared at it in surprise. Where could the tiny speck of life have come from? There had been no caravans through the pass in days and they never traveled with a woman as pregnant as that. Perhaps a slave had borne the babe and her owners had abandoned it.

Grey had already dashed away. He returned with a bowl of fresh milk and a clean cloth. They soaked the cloth and then let the milk drip into the baby's mouth. Their attention was totally absorbed in the child, leaving Tran and Dige out and feeling bewildered. Footsteps from behind them caught their attention but it was Achmed, and they relaxed. He greeted them with a nod and a smile, and then stared in surprise at the baby.

"May I inspect the infant?" he asked Mariah softly. She nodded and let him unwrap the small bundle. Achmed studied the little body carefully until he found a small, oddly shaped birthmark. Upon seeing it, he and Mariah exchanged understanding glances. The girl held the baby close, while the mortal was clearly inclined to keep it far from himself.

"The mark means bad luck," Mariah explained quietly. "I think he's had enough of that, don't you?" She did not look at the others, but gazed hopefully into Grey's face. "Let us raise him," she said.

At her words, Tran's hackles rose. Raise a mortal? It was difficult enough becoming attached to an adult and losing them! He opened his mouth to protest and met Grey's anguished eyes. He thinned his lips in refusal and the tall man bowed his head.

Seemingly unaware of this exchange, Mariah turned to Tran and pushed the tiny, living bundle into his arms. "He's so small, Tran. For that mark, no one will care for him. If he lives he will not even have a dog's life. We are the only ones."

Tran's arms closed around the infant even as he stuttered in fury, "We can't raise a baby!" His protest lost much of its force as he found himself taking the milk-soaked cloth and feeding the helpless creature. It hurt to hear the tiny sounds the baby made. So little to be so unwanted. He turned to Dige for help, but the other man was watching Mariah with his usual besotted expression. Tran sighed in exasperation. He wondered if he would ever become accustomed to this. Grey would obey him out of habit. Dige could be intimidated into line. Mariah, however, cut his defenses full of holes and moved through his emotions like water through a sieve. He had sought to harden himself against her influence and thus far failed. It was strange that the one person he could not dominate should be a young woman. Then again, perhaps it was not. Her experiences after first death had not been far different than his after he had lost his teacher. That gave him empathy for her that he did not feel for Dige, and had not felt for Grey until it was too late. And this little baby... he gave in. A mortal could suffer unspeakable horrors and not live long enough to recover. If they raised him, they could make sure this boy would be strong and have a happy youth behind him.

Ten years passed unmarked except by the growth of the boy, whom they named Hamzad. One morning, Tran stood on the cliff over their canyon and listened as intently as he could with all of his skills. Nothing, still. He had stood there for hours trying to focus on the source of his unease. It had troubled his dreams during the night with the stench of blood and the memories of his last few challenges. It remained a subtle tang disturbing both him and Mariah at the morning meal. She and Dige had gone to ride the perimeter, searching for anything unusual. Grey tended to Achmed, who was in his final decline.

Youthful minds suddenly shifted into his range. Hamzad and his friends. Tran frowned. If something terrible was going to happen, perhaps he should send the children away.

Suddenly the unease clarified itself into an absolute sense of a latent Immortal. Startled, Tran turned toward the trail the children were coming up. There was a sudden rush of hoofbeats. The horses rounded a corner and raced up the trail. Seeing Tran ahead, their riders began reining them in. Hamzad was at the front, Tran noticed with some pride. The boy was shaping into an extremely talented rider. Which of them was the young Immortal, he wondered. Then he knew and a sense of panic washed over him.

Hamzad!

The boy saw the shock on Tran's face and leaped down from his horse. Tran dug his fingers into his palms to prevent himself from shouting, "Be careful!" As Hamzad joined him, Tran suddenly noticed for the first time that the boy was taller than he was. He thought, How time does pass. Not for him, as soon as he does something foolish and gets killed.

Memories swamped Tran. Hamzad up trees, climbing cliffs, trying to go down the well to see where the water came from. Ill with one or another childhood sickness that was known to kill. As an infant, abandoned and exposed to die.

Tran flinched back in surprise as a hand waved in front of his face. "Uncle Tran? What is it?" Hamzad was asking.

Too close to the cliff edge! Tran suddenly thought. He grabbed the boy's arm and moved them both away. "Nightmares," he replied truthfully. "Send your friends home. I'm having premonitions..." Half-truths. He was having terrifying visions of the boy dying in any number of ways.

Calming himself and pretending nothing was wrong proved worthwhile for more than one reason. The pang of amusement he felt when Grey dropped the tray of dirty dishes he was carrying from Achmed's quarters made Tran feel better. He almost laughed when Dige and Mariah returned later and stood frozen in the doorway, their mouths hanging open in shock as realization hit. He could not laugh at the bewildered Hamzad. The boy could see the shock that each member of his family obviously felt. He began to look very nervous.

They had been careful, with Achmed's help, to raise Hamzad in the beliefs and customs of the region. Someday the boy would seek a wife and a life. They did not want him crippled in society by ignorance. All the things they had taught him all these years had suddenly taken on new meaning. All of the cautions they had given him became of deadly importance. Do not eat too fast; do not climb up there; keep your injuries clean; do not burn yourself.

He had always known his birthmark signified ill luck, but it was not until his parents began acting horribly over-protective that he thought to be afraid. It took a few days for that fear to be replaced by annoyance then exasperation, and finally anger.

"Just leave me alone!" he shouted at them one evening. He snatched up the tray of food for their mortal friend and stomped into Achmed's quarters, leaving the beaded curtains waving wildly behind him. The four mature Immortals stared after him in various degrees of guilty concern.

Grey suddenly chuckled from his seat on the pillows. "If I'd known he was one of us when we found him, I would've gone insane with worry in that first year."

"I would have taken his head when he was two," growled Tran half-heartedly.

Mariah laughed and shook her head at them. "We're driving HIM crazy. We must..." she shook her head again and sat down on the pillows around the low table. A tear escaped the wall of her eyelashes. "If we can't treat him normally again, we must foster him out or he will hate us."

Dige sat up urgently. "We can't do that. We can't cut him off from us no matter how angry he is. Not without explanation."

They were still arguing the matter very quietly when Hamzad came out of Achmed's quarters. He looked calmer. He turned to Tran. "Uncle Achmed is calling for you."

Tran took a long, slow breath when he stepped into the room. The sweet-scents managed to cover the smells of old age, but they were so thick in the room it made it difficult to willingly draw a breath. He knelt beside Achmed's bed and looked at the man fondly. The once-heavy black hair was white and wispy; the skin so thin Achmed's skull was sharply visible within. The lively dark eyes remained and turned, twinkling, on Tran.

"He's one of you," the old man stated, smiling. "I wondered."

Startled, Tran gaped at Achmed, taking a moment to pull himself together. "Does he know?! Why did you wonder?"

The thin, cracked lips spread wider, the ancient eyes twinkled even more. "He had to have been there for days before we found him. Babes have remarkable powers of recuperation, but I think if he was a mortal babe he would have died." Achmed reached up, his bony hand trembling until it settled upon Tran's hair. He stroked the fine strands paternally. "He doesn't know. He is simply frustrated. And you," Achmed let his hand slip down to cup Tran's chin, "are afraid he will be like you. An eternal child."

"He's so reckless," Tran said softly.

"Not more than any mortal child. Let go and trust in fate." The man turned his head to look at his journals piled against the side wall. He stared glumly at them for a time, then shifted his head back to Tran. "Why didn't you know he was Immortal before?"

Tran laughed half-heartedly. "We sense each other, you know. Yet until a few days ago, we didn't sense him. We have raised him and somehow we never felt anything different about him from any mortal child."

Achmed looked thoughtful. "Perhaps that is what keeps the babes safe, that their elders cannot sense them." He let his hand fall back to the bedcovers, tiring. He stared hard at Tran for a quick moment. "Don't you think he looks like Mariah?"

Tran shrugged. "I suppose he does. They were both born around here."

Achmed smiled. "Relatively speaking. Something in the set of his body and face reminds me of Grey, too."

There was another moment of meeting the mortal's mischievous eyes before Tran made the connection. It was over ten years ago that Grey and Mariah had been... well, it was all very strange and Tran had never known quite what to make of it so he had said nothing. Then suddenly Mariah was with Dige instead. Shocked, Tran asked, "Do you know something I don't know?"

Achmed shook his head on the blankets. "No, but I have always wondered where baby Immortals come from."

"So have I, old friend. So have I."

It was the hardest thing they would ever have to do. Once again they allowed Hamzad to play with his friends and help on the farm. They began teaching him to handle a blade. In the midst of everything, Achmed Al Khazar died, and all five of them mourned his loss.

Hamzad topped out at nearly the same height as Dige but had a stockier build. He grew a beard to match the one Grey had taken to sporting and Tran had to admit that the two of them did look very similar, though the youngster's eyes were as dark as Mariah's. Hamzad left them to seek his fortune when he was twenty-two years old. It cost them a great deal not to go with him. Hamzad was young and the world held many wonders.

It was two centuries later that Tran was standing on that same cliff edge as when he had first learned Hamzad was Immortal. Just standing, daydreaming, when he sensed someone coming. He chose to stand and watch in the name of hope. The man was dressed in rich clothing and rode a perfect, finely boned desert horse. He reined the animal in, leaped down and strode confidently toward Tran. He was weather beaten, his face covered in laugh-lines. He had a salt-and-pepper beard that reminded Tran very much of Grey's. He had been in his late forties when his first death took him. He radiated confidence and bemused delight. It was momentarily disrupted by startlement before the bemusement returned in force.

"Uncle Tran," he greeted the smaller Immortal affectionately.

"Hamzad," Tran replied, having to force the name through his suddenly tight throat.

Hamzad had come to pay his respects to the four peculiar hermits who had raised him. He had never allowed himself to hope that any of them were Immortals.