D. MacHale - The Rivers of Zadaa

I stood up straight, stretched out the kinks, and called out, “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Loor said.

I turned to see Loor standing in the doorway to the next room. I gasped. Yes, I actually gasped, I’m embarrassed to say. I couldn’t help it. The surprise was too much. Loor stood there looking absolutely gorgeous. In the past I had seen her wear the leather clothes of the Milago peasants, the jumpsuit of a Lifelight jumper, the leather armor of a Ghee warrior, and even the jeans and T-shirt of Second Earth. But nothing I had seen before had prepared me for this.

She looked like a princess.

Gone was the black armor. Loor wore a short, deep red tunic that hugged her incredible, athletic body. Unlike the armor, this dress was soft and very feminine. There were ornate tapestrylike designs around the neck and the bottom of the short skirt. She wore lightweight sandals, with leather straps crisscrossing up to her knees. The sleeves were short, and on each bicep she wore a colorful, beaded strap. Around her neck was a necklace of blue crystal stones that reminded me of the glaze from Denduron. As breathtaking as the whole outfit was, what really stood out for me was her hair. Loor always had her hair tied back practically, so it wouldn’t get in the way. Now her long dark hair was totally loose and combed out. Her hair was so black and shiny, it sparkled with light from the fireplace. Around her forehead she wore a simple headpiece that looked as if it were made from pearls. There was an ornate piece in the center, with two drapes of pearls coming down across either side of her forehead.

In a word, she was stunning.

I said, “Uhh.” That’s it. “Uhh.” Smooth, huh?

“How do I look?” Loor asked.

“Beautiful,” I said. Though “beautiful” was a totally inadequate word. Given time I could think of a few thousand others that would work much better.

“I do not often dress like this,” she said, walking into the room. “But there are times when conflict must be put aside. The Festival of Azhra is one of them.”

When she walked, I expected her to move like a guy dressed up like a girl. She didn’t. Loor had a way of moving that was solid, but at the same time, graceful. It’s like she sort of…flowed.

“You are staring at me, Pendragon,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” I laughed. “Things are about as right as they can get. You look great.”

She gave me a small smile. “As do you,” she said. She was being polite. I looked like me with a tan and a goofy bathrobe. With sandals.

“We should go,” she said. “We do not want to miss anything.”

The Festival of Azhra was pretty much like big celebrations back on Second Earth. Loor explained that a parade would wind its way through the streets of Xhaxhu, ending at the palace of Zinj. Once the parade ended, all the citizens of Xhaxhu would gather in the square in front of the palace for the traditional greeting and speech given by a member of the royal family. It was all followed by families returning to their homes and big feasts that lasted through the rest of the night. It sounded like fun. I wondered what kind of vibe there would be, seeing as the city was gripped by a drought and on the verge of war. I didn’t imagine there would be much feasting, either.

I was thrilled to discover that at least for a night, the people of Xhaxhu forgot about their troubles. Loor and I walked through the streets as people flooded out of their homes, headed for the parade route. Everyone was dressed in their colorful best and ready to party. Even seeing a Rokador, me, didn’t seem to bother them. This was a night of celebration. They’d have plenty of time for hatred tomorrow.

Loor and I arrived at the parade route in the village square where she had fought the zhou beast. Spectators packed the upper levels of the pyramids to get a look down at the show. The parade was made up of groups of dancers wearing rainbow colors doing traditional dances, bands playing flutelike instruments and leather skin drums, and colorful, giant animals made out of paper. I saw a dozen paper zhou beasts, in every color of the rainbow, along with giant snakes that had giant fangs. The marchers in front of them pretended to be battling them with paper spears. Loor explained how this represented the dangerous journey of Azhra through the desert.

It was a long parade too, with many musicians and marchers. The parade entered the square, wound around the statue of the Ghee battling the zhou beast, and continued out the opposite side. From above, happy spectators cheered and rained down colorful confetti. It was like New Year’s Eve, Mardi Gras, Chinese New Year, and a Thanksgiving Day parade all rolled into one.

I looked to Loor. My heart went out to her. Only hours before her best friend had been killed. Here at the parade, it seemed as if she was able to forget that for a brief moment and enjoy the spectacle with the eyes of an innocent child. I was glad to see that she could relax. At least for a short time. I didn’t hate it either. We both needed it.

“Is it like this every year?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But this seems particularly festive. Maybe it is a way of releasing the tension.”

I’m sure she was right. These people needed a break. This festival came at a perfect time.

“We should go to the palace,” Loor said.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the parade route. We jogged through the marchers and dancers, musicians and floats. Many of the dancers met me and put a wreath of paper flowers around my neck. I thought it was interesting that they would do this to a Rokador. It made me realize that these were good people and not mindless, drum-beating vigilantes who wanted nothing more than to crush the Rokador. These were ordinary people, just trying to get by. But survival is a strong instinct. Before that night, I felt as if the Batu were the aggressors who wanted to strike out at the only enemy they could target. The Rokador. That may have been true, but this festival made them feel human. More than ever, I truly hoped this war could be avoided.

On that mad dash through the parade, I also saw the more human face of Loor. She laughed and danced with the musicians as they continually stopped her and gave her flowers. Up until then I had mostly seen her warrior side. Seeing the real Loor made my feelings for her even stronger, if that was possible. This may be weird to say under the circumstances, but for a few minutes there I kind of felt as if we were on a date. At one point we were stopped at an intersection while a thirty-foot-long red snake wound its way in front of us. I pulled Loor back because she was about to walk right into it. She looked at me and laughed. Her face absolutely lit up. She was beautiful. The two of us stood there for a moment, looking at each other. All I wanted to do was kiss her. I moved in slightly, expecting her to back off. She didn’t. I think she wanted to kiss me, too. It was perfect. The confetti fell down around us like colorful snow. Music was everywhere; Batu revelers surrounded us, singing and dancing. But for that moment it felt like the two of us were alone. In many ways we were. We were so different than everybody else there. Nobody knew what we knew or had seen the things we’d seen. Loor and I were forever joined, not only in the battle against Saint Dane, but in the bond that was created by the fact that we owed our lives to each other. It was a magical moment that my words can’t begin to describe.

I didn’t kiss her. I’m not sure why I stopped. Maybe I didn’t want to risk the rejection. Or to move our relationship into uncharted water. Even though my feelings for her were stronger than ever, we had work to do. We couldn’t let anything stand in the way of that. If we were meant to be together, we would be. But not until our job was done. So I backed off. I’m not sure if the look on her face was disappointment, or relief. Either way, the moment had passed and we moved on.