Chapter 4: The Stranger

2222222222

The seven of them turned at the sound, calm and mellow, and almost loving. On the beach just behind them, a dark-skinned young man was sitting with his back to them, cross-legged before the pile of kindling, balancing a long black staff across his knees. They jumped together to see him there, unaware that they hadn't been alone this whole time, and startled by his sudden appearance.

They hadn't looked away but for a few seconds. How had he appeared so silently, and so quickly? Where had he been hiding all along? As if sensing their shock, the stranger turned his head a bit, shaking his shaggy black hair out of his face so they could see one pale blue eye twinkling at them.

And he was smiling warmly, with fondness in his face.

"In fact," he continued, "they are quite cuddly, when you get to know them. They were never meant to be so menacing, you know."

With that, he turned back to the kindling; and without a sound, the pile burst into a merry flame and began crackling pleasantly. The stranger seemed pleased, and sat back to enjoy its light. He even began humming quietly to it

As if the man's nonchalance had offended him, John frowned and reached for his sword. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Where have you come from?"

Without turning his head, the stranger answered, "No one of consequence, and nowhere of consequence."

With an angry huff, John drew his sword and stumbled back down the dune. His companions couldn't believe him, but it was plain that his step-son was particularly displeased with him. In fact, he looked downright mortified, all at once.

"We haven't the time for games, boy," John snapped. "Rise! Show us your face, and answer me properly!"

The stranger sighed in annoyance, and could almost be heard rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he took his staff in hand as he obeyed the command. It was obvious that he had only done so to humor the other man – or perhaps to put him in his place. When the stranger had risen to his full height and thrust the end of his staff into the sand, he towered easily four heads taller than John, and with far more might. The teasing twinkle had left his eyes, and now he looked frighteningly stern.

"'To rise', is not an order so easily thrown about in these lands," he said severely, as though he had caught a child cursing. "It is for the priests, and the rebels, and the Dragons, alone. I trust you will remember, in the future."

With that, the stranger turned away again and settled himself as before. He picked up his humming where he had left off and completely ignored John's stunned, shamed silence behind him, as though nothing had happened.

After a moment, Allun took a deep breath and ventured down next. Shaaran stole another glance at Rowan, wondering if he was just a worried as before. Instead, he seemed relieved.

"Rebels, is it?," Allun commented, kneeling beside the stranger. "Funny thing about rebels, we had just come here looking for a few, ourselves."

"Ah, yes," the stranger agreed flatly. "There, in the city. That storm has been brewing for centuries, I'm afraid."

Pleased to be making some progress, Allun smiled and nodded eagerly. "You would know all about that, of course."

The stranger looked up at him and raised his eyebrow. "Oh, would I now? Well, if you arin'mai say so, then it must be the truth. Who would know better what is true and what is not, after all?"

By now, the rest of their party had cautiously come down to join them around the fire, glad that this enormous, handsome, mysterious man was approachable with the right tone of voice. As they watched, he waved his hand and twitched his fingers over the fire and seemed to make it pop and hiss in certain places, as one might by stoking it with a stick. It was a wonder that Allun hadn't asked about it yet; but he was transfixed by what he was seeing – enchanted, puzzled, and alarmed all at the same time.

"That is a marvelous trick," Marlie said for him, leaning over and placing her hands on her knees, being just as casual as the stranger was. "How are you doing it? Moreover, how did you light the fire at all, without flint or tinder?"

The stranger laughed and looked up into her curious face. "No flint or tinder, she says. Where did you get an idea like that, my lady?"

Marlie squinted at him. "Well, you've nowhere to keep them – or anything, for that matter," she answered, gesturing over his person. He was barely clothed, with only a tattered scrap of black cloth wrapped and tied around his waist. There were no pockets, no pouches, no bag around his massive shoulders. His staff was clearly the only item he had with him.

Seeing that she had caught him, somehow, the stranger smiled coolly at her and looked back at the fire without explaining himself. He seemed pleasantly surprised that someone here had clever enough eyes to see…

To see what, exactly? It was a puzzle, Shaaran decided: a living, breathing, chuckling puzzle, and he was giving them clues to figuring him out. She was sure of it. She could hear it in his vagueness, in his refusal to answer questions, in the very fact that he had appeared at all. But she couldn't begin to guess at what those clues meant, or what they had even been. So she stood aside, thinking carefully over it, while her family continued trying to engage their new companion.

Annad was trying next, sitting across the fire and giving him a sincere smile. "So, do you have a name?" she asked pleasantly.

The stranger smiled back, looking touched that someone had finally asked. "I do, but it is a long one. Do you have a name?"

She crossed her arms and gave him a teasing look. "I do, but it's a short one. I'll tell you mine, if you'll tell me yours."

He grinned at her sass, but shook his head. "We all have a great many names, Golden Guard. I daresay I could tell you a few you did not even know you had."

Annad blinked at him in great surprise. "I think I believe it, too. How did you know that one? My brother is the only other person who knew it!"

"The flame told me," he answered simply. "It is what the trees and the seas and the winds call you, and flame agrees, it is lovely and suits you well."

She opened her mouth to say something – to ask more questions, and questions she had held onto since her childhood, they all knew – but she seemed to change her mind before she could think of any of them. Instead, she sighed and stared at her lap. The stranger watched her carefully and rubbed his neck, looking truly sorry to have disappointed her.

"They call me Prince of the Rocky Lands," he said slowly. "Long, as I said it was. I suppose it is unfair, to learn your name from others and not give mine in return. Cheating, I believe is the word, in your tongue. Forgive my dishonesty, good woman; it was wrong of me."

While Annad smiled and accepted his apology, Shaaran felt a stir beside her. It had come from Rowan, who had just barely twitched and become ridged and pale. She had seen his face like that before, and knew what it meant. He had seen or heard, or simply understood something just said, and figured out the whole puzzle in an instant. And whatever the answer was, it had shaken him to his core.

Wishing she could help him just now, she laid a gentle hand on his arm. She felt him relax slightly under her touch, and he gripped her hand with his own to steady himself. She could tell he wanted to blurt out the answer to everyone, to scream the truth at the top of his voice, but that it wasn't time to do so yet. He had to keep the knowledge to himself for now; but it was so big and so important, he was bursting at his seams trying to keep it secret.

The stranger cleared his throat and said, "Now, let me ask something of you charming people – some of whom, I could swear I have seen somewhere before." He was looking with particular interest between Allun and Norris, and asked them, "Are you certain we have never met?"

They both shrugged, and Norriss said, "If you don't mind, sir, if I met an unmarked Zebak man of your stature, I am sure I would remember."

"Unmarked… Ah, yes, that," the stranger said faintly, as if he had forgotten the law of his native land. "Still, you've both been here. Many of you have been, some much longer than others. What brings you back so suddenly? It appears to me that you have lost something. Something of tremendous value."

He watched as each of them wilted in sorrow, remembering what had brought them to this beach in the first place. He studied each of them briefly; but for whatever reason, his gaze kept wandering expectantly back to Allun, and Marlie beside him. He seemed to want them alone to answer him. It was little surprise, though; neither of them had ever been able to hide their heartbreak half as well as their friends, and it shown more bitterly in them than anyone else.

"Yes, we have lost something," Allun said quietly, taking his wife's hand in his. "Something precious."

The stranger seemed to understand at once. As he continued studying the couple, a similar look of sadness came over his face. A look of remembered love and loss and the pain of it. A look of recalling his fondest moments with someone he loved, because that person was no longer with him. A look that he truly understood what the couple before him was feeling, and that he truly cared. He sighed deeply and stared at the fire.

"No parent should ever know such a thing," he said in a low voice, nearly mumbling. "I only wish that my deepest sympathies could make it right again."

In spite of everything, they looked weirdly relieved that this perfect stranger sympathized with their sorrow. They had spent two years trying to hide it, as their people usually did, and being scolded whenever it peeked through. It must have been a pleasant surprise for them, now.

"Then, you've lost a child, too," Marlie ventured when the stranger was silent a little too long. He raised his head and gazed toward the wastelands.

"I have lost several," he answered disdainfully. "A great many, in fact. You could say, it is why I am trapped out here, when I would rather be in there, helping them." He pointed toward the horizon, where plumes of smoke were still rising over the walls of the city.

"So, your family is still in Habaharan?" Annad asked, growing excited again. "Are they with the rebellion? Do you mean to help them?"

The stranger nodded shortly. "I suppose you could say all of this. I am not allowed in the city, however, and cannot go beyond its walls."

Norriss snorted in disbelieving laughter. "Neither are we, man. You don't think that is going to stop us, do you? You should come with us! We were just wondering at how to get inside, exactly; and even if we succeed, we haven't even discussed how we will know where to go next. But you are from Habaharan – you could help us a great deal…"

The hopefulness in his voice died as the stranger pinned his pale eyes on him. It sounded a good and practical idea, but he hardly seemed thrilled about it.

"You misunderstand me, I think," the stranger said frankly. "I cannot go beyond the city's walls by my own will. I am bound to it, I am afraid."

Speaking for the first time, Rowan gasped and started toward the man. "By what manner of darkness is this?" he demanded, suddenly furious, clearly knowing exactly what the man had meant.

The stranger gazed at him with a something like hope in his eyes. As if, perhaps, he had been waiting to meet him for a long time.

"It is by the very means you say, Red One," he said gravely, stretching out his mighty hand in welcome. "I will play my games and waste your time no longer. Sit with me."

Rowan did as he was asked, or had been politely told to do, at once. He looked frightened and nervous to be sitting so close to the stranger, as if he might strike him without warning. But the stranger remained pleasant and even-toned, as he began speaking in another language.

"Na'Kyrai, Ik't'ai wroven'o," he said pointedly. The rest of them frowned over it, not knowing what he was saying; many of them frowned harder when Rowan nodded bravely in perfect understanding.

"Abe, ik'gase," he mumbled, almost obediently, not exactly pleased by what he had been told. The stranger gave him an encouraging smile and gripped his hand.

"Ane'mul'juxa, hua'yowla mul'en'tiskre," he said gently, finally getting Rowan to smile a bit. There had been a tension between them so far, but it vanished at once.

"What is he saying?" John demanded suddenly. Instead of an answer, he got an angry glare from his step-son, and an annoyed glance from the stranger.

"You know I don't like saying this to you, John, but please – shut up," Rowan hissed at him. Their companions couldn't help laughing, and the stranger grinned .

"Yes, please, John," he teased. "The sons of the Stars are talking, if you do not mind; but we will not be much longer." He turned back to Rowan and shook his head in amusement.

"Nis'hau'yowla fe'fata," he went on, nodding to where John was pacing in embarrassed silence.

Rowan smiled at his teasing, but mostly just shrugged. "Fe's'en baleo," he said, sounding as doubtful as he looked.

While they went on talking, Shaaran crept after John and tapped his arm to get his attention. "Our mysterious friend is only giving him advice, if it helps," she whispered.

John stared at her in amazement. "You understand what they're saying?" he whispered back.

"Not perfectly, but I know enough of their words to follow along. Our friend only said that we have work to do, and to not give up just because we are afraid – or because of your foul mood – and Rowan is worried that all of that will be difficult. I have to agree with them. You are being a pest, all at once, and you aren't helping things. You must calm down."

John looked like he wanted to argue otherwise, but thankfully did not. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at the stranger and grumbled, "I only wish this young man would make his intentions clear. He appears to sympathize with us, and with the rebels, but he plainly has no plans to join us. And I don't like it that he is suddenly speaking in a language he knows we don't understand. What is he hiding from us?"

"He doesn't seem to be hiding anything," Shaaran insisted, listening to the foreign words and picking out words she knew. "He is speaking to Rowan as he might to his own son, with words of encouragement. He simply wishes to do so privately, personally."

John didn't seem convinced. "And what does he mean, having a great many children? How many children can such a young man be father to? Big as he is, he can't be any older than your brother."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Certainly. His size was a shock, but he is Zebak. They are all larger than most people."

Shaaran rolled her eyes at him. "Perhaps some of them are, but no one is quite so massive. And he is much older, and much more than he appears. Look at his face, John. It seems so familiar… Do you remember Zan Garased? He looks a bit like him, I think."

John considered this, and gasped as the stranger frowned in thought. "Zeel makes that face – that exact same face. You would think the man was her own father."

"I know," Shaaran agreed. "And there are other faces I used to know in his, too. As if he were all of them at once. I wonder…"

"What do you wonder?"

Never one to jump to conclusions, Shaaran shook her head. "Never mind what I wonder. I may be quite wrong. I probably am. I almost hope that so. We will all know shortly, I believe."

She had missed much of the other conversation and now had no idea what Rowan and the stranger had been discussing; she tuned back into it and found that they seemed to be finishing it.

"Krifa'mul'forse't nunai, kas mul'sunda tafa," the stranger was saying, gesturing at his eyes and temple. Something about keeping them open, Shaaran thought. Half those words were new to her, and she couldn't be sure.

"Loua'mul'en'dirsa?" Rowan asked, looking concerned. She knew exactly what that meant – What are you saying? What do you mean? Whatever the stranger had been saying, he didn't like it.

"Mul's'en fore," the stranger assured him. Then he shrugged and added, "Na'yakher'en'ane'gase eb'ik, sai."

The future is not known to me. It was almost word for word. Rowan seemed bitterly disappointed to hear it.

"Ouai. Kagushe," he sighed, hanging his head.

"What did he just say?" John whispered furiously. "It sounded horrible."

"Kagushe? It's not a curse, it just means 'fabulous'," Shaaran answered, pushing him out of her face. "He is being sarcastic. It doesn't translate very well, though..."

Indeed, as the stranger gripped Rowan's shoulder, he appeared puzzled.

"For the most part, then, we understand each other," he said, in words they all knew. "Do you trust me, Red One?"

"With my whole heart, sir," Rowan answered right away.

The stranger nodded and stood again, compelling all those sitting with him to stand, also. The air seemed to be humming with excitement – the way Shaaran noticed it always did, when something amazing was about to happen.

"Red One," he said, "it is your cause, as Titan, to break that which cannot be broken. Will you break something for me, here and now, in the eyes and ears of those present?"

Rowan blinked at the eloquent request. "If it is within my power, yes."

"Very good. I wish for your permission to enter the city."

They seemed to be talking about several things at once, somehow. Magic had a way of being like that – meaning many things all at the same time, while meaning very little to those who didn't understand it. While the rest of them were baffled over it, Rowan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gathering his strength, choosing his words carefully.

"I still do not fully understand why it is needed," he confessed first. "In any case, you now have my permission to go beyond the walls of the Safe Place, and enter Habaharan city."

It was unclear what he had done, or how he had done it, or why it was so important at all. But the stranger smiled marvelously and sighed deeply, as though a terrible burden had been lifted away from him. As if he were breathing free air for the first time – or for the first time in a long, long time.

Something about the world felt different now. It was impossible to tell what it was, exactly; it was just changed, somehow, or completely gone. All that Shaaran knew for sure was that it had been magical, and that the world felt a shade better for it.

The stranger righted himself, standing more mightily than before, and pointed toward the city.

"The wall is deserted," he announced urgently. "Your way into the city is clear. A guide has been sent, and awaits your arrival. You will know her, when you see you. She will take you to your brother at once."

The whole party gasped in amazement, and in wonder at how confident at he was.

"Is it truly that simple?" Rowan asked, as the stranger moved away from them.

"I think you will find that it is," he agreed, patting Unos' scaly neck, and chuckling as she hissed in happy greeting. "I wish I could accompany you at once, but I am afraid that it isn't possible. I've a guest of my own, at the moment, and feel I must be home to him. I worry that he might grow impatient and wander off, if left alone too long. But he and I both will be joining you, shortly. He has work of his own to do."

Rowan hummed at this. "Do I dare ask who he is? What he is to do? Or should I just wait and see?"

"Waiting would be best for now, I think, Red One. I trust I can leave things in your capable hands?"

Anyone else in Rin would have agreed at once that they were just the person for the job – whether they knew what it was or not – and assured the stranger that they would see their work done. Most would have boasted about their strengths, and made lavish promises of what they would accomplish on their own. But Rowan had always been humble and honest to a fault; and so, looking a bit daunted, he simply said, "I can only promise to do my very best."

And, looking pleased by his honesty, the stranger nodded. "Then that will have to suffice."

With that, he turned on his heel, and vanished. There was no rush of wind, or chiming of deep magic, or any other sign. He simply disappeared before their eyes, and was gone. The only sign that he had been there at all were his footprints in the sand, and the cheerily blazing fire, and the shocked cries of the entire gathering.

"What was that?" Allun demanded for all of them. "Rowan, who the hell was that?"

The Titan hesitated, his gaze locked on the spot where the stranger had stood only seconds ago. He swallowed hard before taking a deep breath, and finally speaking in slow, halting words.

"The Prince of the Rocky Lands, just as he said. That was Heomiri, son of Solaris, Dragon of Fire."

Shaaran marveled at what she felt at those words. Somewhere between fright and joy, she thought. She had suspected that anyone as strange as the man they had just met might be the very same, but she hadn't liked being so sure of it. She felt John glancing at her, looking for a sign that her wondering had been true, after all. She couldn't guess at what he was thinking or feeling.

Not sharing her family's fright, Annad bounded to her brother's side and grabbed his arm, suddenly ten years old and full of fancies again. "Teleportation," she reasoned loudly. "That was how he appeared so suddenly! And how he lit our fire, and was able to control it! Oh, everything makes perfect sense, now! Rowan, what else did he say to you? What did he tell you to do? Did he tell you why he can't go into the city? Tell us everything!"

"I'm afraid he didn't say much about that," he answered, brushing her off and striding back to Unos. "Mostly, he warned us all to keep our eyes open, and our minds clear. It seems to me that this is not the simple rescue mission we had expected. We are about to learn quite a lot about our so-called, 'ancient enemy', and he means for it to be so."

"He wants the Zebak to be seen and heard, finally," Norriss agreed at once. "And why wouldn't he? Of course he's lost a great many children – he speaks of their whole race, locked away and enslaved and lied about all these ages."

John stared at him in disbelief. "You don't really believe all of this so easily?" he demanded.

Norriss shrugged in confusion. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "A father, wanting to save his children from a terrible fate? We can all understand that. Besides, Rowan trusts him. That is enough for me."

"I dare say, all of that is enough for all of us," Allun agreed. "That said, let us board our trusty friend once more, and make haste to that cursed wall! If there is someone waiting for us there, it won't do to keep her waiting for us."

Even Unos seemed thrilled to have a clear direction, fidgeting excitedly as her masters climbed on her back. Before they could take flight, Marlie raised her voice from her place in the back.

"Rowan, are you sure you don't know what it is you've broken for him? He seemed to know exactly what it was. I can't believe you don't have some idea, yourself. Don't you think you should tell us what it is?"

He seemed peeved to be asked, when he plainly didn't have an answer; but he answered as best he could. "I suspect foul play and dark magic. Something underhanded, which even a Dragon couldn't escape alone."

Which earned a sputter of laughter from his sister. "But a whole Dragon, Rowan? Nothing could be too difficult for a Dragon to handle."

"Not usually; but remember, Annad, Dragons only have the power to create. They can destroy nothing – not even things they create, themselves. Not even oaths and curses, it seems. Fortunately, there is always humanity. If there is anything we are good at, it is breaking the perfectly good order the Dragons have put in place. It is much of the reason they have chosen Titans to begin with."

Annad frowned at him. "You are being dramatic again. It can't really be that serious."

Rowan looked at her over his shoulder. "Let me put it this way: if the Dragons could destroy things, the entire Maris race would have been wiped out eons ago."

She was silent for a moment. "…Oh," she whispered at last. After that, she said nothing.

Sitting between them, Shaaran thought that idea over for a moment. It was a fact they all knew by now, but clearly took for granted whenever it crossed their minds. And it dawned on her that when Rowan had first met the Dragon whose power now commanded his life, it had also been to do something the ancient, marvelous creature could not do for himself. It had been remarkably simple, in the end; but even the Lord of Earth had needed destructive human hands to undo that small accident.

Because they can't undo their accidents, she reasoned sadly. They can't even take back their small mistakes, as we can. So, what mistake has the Lord of Fire made?

She had to push that thought away. Unos was unfurling her wings, hissing with excitement to be on their way again. There was a strange eagerness in that excitement, too. She gripped Rowan's arm, as he gripped the beast, and found that she could faintly hear what they were saying.

"All will be well," Unos was cheering, in a voice that sounded distant but filled with gladness. "Did you hear, Red One? The Hallowed Father is in our land, and all will be well! He will trample the enemy, and restore our land to its old glory!"

"He said none of that, Only One," Rowan pointed out as patiently as he could.

"The Hallowed Father is in our land, and so it will be so," Unos insisted. "Oh, He is a good and wonderful Father, is He not? I have always hoped to see Him. Now that I have, I like Him quite a lot."

Filled to bursting with more than just animal happiness, Unos took off in a single bound, and flew without being told toward the walls of Habaharan city.

2222222222

Afterthoughts…

2222222222

Christmas – and, in fact, all of December – was just exhausting. I couldn't believe how excited I was for the New Year. Not quite as much as last year, which was 12 whole months of exhaustion; but still, I've been ready for the next journey for a while.

I started the year off right, too – by finally finishing my notes on Rowan and the Ice Creepers/Bukshah/whatever-the-hell-its-name-is. Fun fact, it's a little more depressing every time I read it. And Bronden still makes me cry every time. Also, you just know that as soon as Rowan mentions that the mountain had stairs the whole time, Sheba will have to hide from several people for… Forever. XD

Anyway, I spent most of last month pretty much braindead, which is why this chapter is under 5K. I had hoped to land on the wall before the end, but I'm sick and tired of this chapter mocking me, so it's done right now. Parts of it still feel odd to me, but all of it is necessary in my mind, so I'll leave it. I'd really just like to get on with the show, because the first of a few battles is coming shortly!

I hope you all enjoyed meeting Jesus – I mean – Heomiri, and are looking forward to him popping up again later. If anyone is curious as to what, exactly, he and Rowan were saying, I'd be happy to send you a direct translation. Don't worry, there will be plenty more Laira'dirsa before the end. ;D

Happy New Year, friends!