Out

Chapter 18

Cerani Encampment, 324 Era Vulgaris, Centennial 28

When I first came to the Cerani camp, I expected these people to be mystic warriors, so attuned to the rhythms of their bodies that clouds form at their beck and call, but after three days of training with Riva, most of them cannot even summon a little electric buzz. We have much to do if we are going to be a formidable force. I do not have a handle on my own gifts, let alone the gifts of fifty Cerani. How do I teach a tribe to shock and triumph if I cannot do it myself? I will give them this much, though: their vigor makes them dangerous, and it is their vigor that will see us through.

Two and a half weeks have passed since we left Q, since I was reborn into a new life, but I am no happier here than I was in my cell. Aron is still fragile, and every day I struggle to figure out who I am supposed to be and how to prove it. Few Cerani men are interested to know me, let alone take me seriously. Aron's outspoken support helps, but it does not solve the problem. Some of these men have witnessed wars longer than the time I spent in Q; what could I possibly teach them?

The tribe does not have a clear leader, someone who they all turn to for guidance. The women look to me, and Edrus obeys me, but I do not have any sway with the men. Riva's pull only goes so far; how has the tribe survived this long with such internal discord? On this, my fourth day in the encampment, I find myself sitting alone for the midday meal, far from the center of camp on a bench, after a morning of trying to wrangle fifty Cerani and a night full of dreams in which I called out for Aron and he did not answer.

I have a heightened understanding of the Decuriate lately, something I hope will continue to expand. When I meditate on Paria, my awareness of my body is heightened, so much so that I can feel every fatigued muscle being repaired. Mors, the second star, concerns the ending of life, and Saga Idida believes I have been in communion with him since the ritual that blinded me. I experienced all but the final act of death, according to Cerani: revelation, separation from the bodily form, and I touched the deep pool in the sky. But I came back to the land of the living, and Idida believes my survival has to do with my connection to Ignis, the one responsible for fire. I was struck by lightning, which dropped me out of the sky and returned me to my body on the ground... truthfully, if I were not experiencing it, I would not believe it. I do not know if I have the capacity to understand this ten-fold god, but I am trying. I make observations about my experiences while meditating, and Idida translates them into explanations. I suppose it is possible she is suggesting meanings that do not exist, but I do know there is some truth in what she says.

I saw the pool. I touched Ignis, held the star to my chest, and felt it fracture.

I suppose Ignis is the one I should meditate on if I want the Cerani to tap into their electric gifts. Idida says it is my Sight which allows me to communicate with the Decuriate, but I think it might be best if I have all electrically capable Cerani meditate on Ignis, sighted or not. I am missing the most important part of the equation: the How. How do we pull the electricity into bolts? How do we aim them and strike where we intend? How do we do it without killing each other in the process? Unable to stomach food and ambiguity, I do not eat my entire meal.

"Antista?" Slim fingers graze my forearm. "It is Hali."

"What is it, Hali?" I ask gently, though I am a bit annoyed to be bothered.

"Would you do something for me and someone who is dear to me?" she asks.

"That depends, what do you need?"

She clears her throat and sits beside me on the bench. "Marek and I want to be... bound together," she says, "like people are bound in Arcis. Will you do that for us?"