Brian Pratt - Warrior priest of Dmon-Li

Suddenly from up ahead where the road curves around a bend, a group of men come into sight. James is shocked when he sees the extensive tattoos that cover them. Parvatis! Just like the ones from Korazan.

The two groups pause momentarily, both sides stunned to see the other there in the road before them. Then the Parvatis give a war cry as they draw their swords and rush to attack.

Miko turns his horse and is about to gallop away when Jiron suddenly kicks his horse and rushes to meet the charging warriors.

James readies a stone to throw and is about to when he notices that Jiron hasn’t drawn his knives. But instead is holding aloft the necklace with the three stones, the one the Parvatis back in Korazan had given him for defeating one of them in battle.

As he approaches the Parvatis, they suddenly come to a stop as they realize just what he is holding. Their demeanor changes quickly from one of antagonism to one of astonishment.

James and Miko come up behind Jiron as they hear him say, “May your swords drink deeply.”

One of the Parvatis, an older one, gives him a smile and replies, “May your knives drink deeply.” His expression subtly changes when he sees James and Miko ride up behind him.

“They’re my friends,” Jiron says to the Parvati who nods in response.

“Welcome, then,” the Parvati says to them all. “My name is Qyith, Warleader of the Eller Tribe,” he says.

Jiron replies, “My name is Jiron, and these are my friends, James and Miko.” They each give the Parvatis a slight bow from the backs of their horses.

“How is it that you came to possess mounts of the Grey Wolf Clan?” he asks.

“They attacked us,” Jiron explains. “We killed them all and took their horses.”

The Warleader breaks into a grin as he says, “Truly, you are a formidable warrior.” He translates for his fellows who nod approvingly. Turning back to Jiron, he says, “We have no love of the Grey Wolf’s, they’ve been a blight upon us for generations.”

“You must come to my village,” he says to them. “We should feast and hear of the exploits of such a Shynti.”

“Shynti?” asks Jiron.

“Ah, that means a friend of the Parvatis,” he explains. “Any who bear the three stones is called such.”

“We don’t have time, I’m afraid,” he tells them. “We are pursued and must make all speed north.”

Qyith waves away the comment and says, “Not to worry, none shall harm you while you remain with us.” He says something to his men and one runs down the road to the south while the others turn around and begin running north. When he sees Jiron looking questioningly at him, he explains, “They’re going to spread the word a Shynti is here.”

James looks at the departing warriors worriedly, but takes Qyith at his word.

“Come,” he says. “Our village lies not far from here and tonight you may rest in safety. Tomorrow, you may go upon your way, should you wish.” He then turns and begins moving northward.

Jiron glances back to James who shrugs and then nods as he begins moving his horse to follow the Warleader. Qyith leads them down the road until it comes to a fork and turns to follow the right hand fork that runs due east.

They follow him for a couple hours before coming to the outskirts of his village. It’s a large collection of huts nestled in a small valley in the mountains. James sees many young Parvatis running around, playing at one game or another and the Parvati women can be seen in and around the various huts.

When they’re noticed arriving, the young ones come over to them and gather around to see the Shynti. Word must have already been brought here. “Do many Shynti come?” asks James as all three dismount.

Qyith shakes his head as he replies, “It’s been a generation at least since anyone has been named such.” He then faces the assembled members of his tribe and begins speaking in their tongue.

James can hear their names being told to the Parvatis gathered there as he tells the people about them. On the way to the village, they told him about the Gathering and their escape. They also told him about the fight back at Korazan. All this, he relates to his people.

When he’s done, Jiron is looked to with awe and many of the children come close to touch him, to see if he’s truly a real person. He endures their attention until Qyith shoos them away. “I ask your pardon,” he says to Jiron. “They’re just excited to meet an actual Shynti.”

“I understand,” he replies.

“Let me show you around our village and where you’ll be staying while you’re with us,” he says. Not waiting for a reply, he leads them into his village and begins to describe some of the things he thinks they’ll be interested in.

Jiron interrupts him and says, “I noticed none of the women have tattoos like the men do.”

He pauses and turns back to them. “Tattoos are only for the men, once they’ve attained manhood,” he explains. “Each of our young boys goes through a series of tests that bring him from childhood into manhood. If they survive, then they are given the honor of bearing the mark of the warrior,” he says as he gestures to the tattoos covering himself.

“Ah, I see,” Jiron says.

They come to a hut where Qyith abruptly halts at the entrance. “You may use this hut while you are here,” he tells them. “If you’d like, you may roam freely about the village. The feast will be later this evening when the others arrive.”

“Others?” asks Jiron.

“Yes,” he says. “A Shynti here is a rare thing. Many will wish to come and see you to pay honor.”

“I see,” he says, not altogether happy about all the attention.

“I must leave you now and ensure all is properly prepared for this evening,” he tells them. Turning around, he begins moving away from them, back the way they’d come.

“Think we’ll be okay?” Jiron asks James.

“I would think so,” he replies. “You seem to be some kind of celebrity.”

“Celebrity?” he asks.

“Someone famous and well liked,” he explains.

“I suppose,” he says.

They tie their horses to a post near the entrance and then go inside. There are four beds with an open stove in the center to allow for heat and cooking. Rugs and mats cover the floor giving the place a comfortable feel to it.

Miko stretches out on one of the beds and says, “This is nothing like Inius’.”

Jiron looks questioningly to James who says, “Inius ran an inn we stayed in that had the softest beds.”

Sitting down on the firm beds, he says, “I see.”

Still, for all their stiffness, they’re still better than the ground. James lies down and turns his head toward Miko and says, “Better not take the Fire out here, we don’t want anyone to see it.”

Miko sighs and says, “I’ve already decided to leave it in the pouch.” He leans on one elbow and looks at James as he continues, “It makes me feel weird.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“It’s hard to explain, but I feel like it wants to suck me into it,” he replies. “That’s not exactly the feeling, I’m not sure how to describe it. But if I keep it in the pouch, then I don’t feel anything at all.”

“Then it may be a wise thing to leave it alone,” Jiron says from where he’s lying on his bed.

“I agree,” adds James. He’s relieved to be able to just lie down and rest. It seems lately, he’s been going from place to place, events propelling him along. He would really like to just stay in one place for a while and relax.

Coming suddenly awake, James realizes he had fallen asleep and that it’s now almost dark. Sitting up, he looks over to find Jiron and Miko are no longer within the hut. Getting up, he goes over and opens the door.