The Cleansing (Book One: The Folara Chronicles)

058: Taan

Taan's team was loaded on the shuttle, and he ordered the doors closed and the pilot to guide them to Etrusia. Even with the quickest shuttle, it was at least a two-hour cruise. 

He gazed out the front portals, trembling inside with the news he had received this day. His hands gripped the seat hard, if he could have seen his knuckles, he knew they would have been protruding and white. Instead, he focused on the scene that met his eyes. A lit track flew by beneath their view. It wasn't attached to the ocean floor, but hung suspended in most places, a fine strong cable that could be activated when transportation approached. 

Down here, darkness reigned. The shuttle had its own dim bluish glow that conserved energy as they traveled and made them less of a target for large sea predators which were seldom inclined to investigate them.

Every so often a sea creature could be seen, glowing cheerily alongside, or else floating aimlessly. Occasionally a school of fish of some kind swam ahead or around them. Taan had never been interested in the sea or its creatures only about getting himself and his people out of it. 

There were those who studied it and he held them in high esteem, for they had accomplished much good in their research. But his concerns had always been different. Land and air were in his blood. He had fought on land once, and although he'd had to retreat to the sea to survive, he missed the land.

Taan remembered his grandmother, Kolana clearly. She'd been weathered and spry, agile and extremely wise up until her last breath at the ripe old age of one hundred. To him, she had been quick and playful, but he'd seen her firmly lead the Council and install Kai, conceiving of theories and ideas to heal their planet. Forever an optimist, she'd instilled in him the mandate to continue the search for a way out.

It had been two hundred years since the pioneers had settled on Folara. He felt old. Maybe too old for this kind of mission. He couldn't leave it to Galantyne. Galantyne could lead another land war. He could not.

With the news that Ondrea was alive, he had to believe that The Council of Ladies had been involved in deceiving him. To what purpose? For what gain? His heart twisted to think that a viper's nest had been bred in the council of Ladies in Aquaria. As he thought of each member he realized that only one name stood out to him.

Nimiane. He'd never quite trusted her after she returned from the land. She was still Quildor's wife.

He thought of his daughter, Kara. She was obviously being groomed by the council to take her rightful place among the women there, and just as obviously she was her father's daughter and had a warrior's spirit. 

She was too hot-headed. Too much like Galantyne, too committed to answers and not committed enough to those who remained stationary. Kara would never remain stationary.

His thoughts turned to Jerrika, the daughter he'd raised and ignored. And also the mysterious Avarona who had come as a child with Ondrea. There was something he didn't understand about these women and about his wife.

His heart constricted. Ondrea, Ondrea! You're alive! 

Beautiful, smart, cunning and clever Ondrea! There was no one in the realm like her. No one as lovely, as mysterious, as compassionate and thoughtful. No one fit his needs like Ondrea; no one challenged his thinking or pushed his limits like Ondrea. With no other person had he ever felt such bonding teamwork. They were mates, perfect and soul-linked. 

He'd never stopped mourning her death. She was there in the back of his mind, always her face swam in the night nearby even when he made love to Lynette. He missed her more than he could ever say. It wasn't fair to Lynette, but he couldn't change it.