Chapter 7
Iyana
As the group of four filed into Imo’s hut, relief washed over Iyana. Her grandmother was still alive. In all the chaos of meeting Altair, being caught up in some sort of ‘super sprint’—seriously, what in the nine hells was that—vomiting, and meeting Emmeric, she hadn’t had time to process that Imo was alive and uninjured. The old woman eased herself into her chair, joints popping, and Iyana fell at her feet and wept. She buried her head in her grandmother’s lap, sobbing uncontrollably. At that moment, Iyana could not think about stars, fate, or the enemy at her back.
“Altair,” Imo said, “be a dear and get the other chair out of Iyana’s hut next door, please? I’m afraid I don’t own enough furnishings for all of us.”
Imo gently lifted up Iyana’s head and wiped her tears. “Iyana, my love, I am happy to see you as well.” She smiled warmly. “But now I need you to pull yourself together. We have much to cover.”
Iyana heard Emmeric snort a laugh behind her and turned to throw a glare his way. The bastard grinned back at her. Iyana had always thought that she didn’t have a violent bone in her body, but this man had made her want to stab him twice now in only ten minutes.
She finished drying her face and took a seat on the cot. Emmeric sat next to her, and Iyana inched away from him ever so slightly. Altair returned with her chair, noticed them both sitting on the cot, and sat in it himself. It forced Iyana and Emmeric to look up at the older pair—one human, brittle, and devastatingly mortal; the other ancient, unageing. Iyana felt like a child about to receive a scolding; she sat on her hands to keep from fidgeting.
“Let’s begin at the beginning,” said Imo. Iyana perked up—that was the phrase her grandmother used to start every story she was told as a young girl. She used to love trying to stay up late, warm by the hearth, the scent of herbal tea in the air, listening to Mata Imo’s stories. More often than not, she would drift away in the middle of the story, only to wake up on her own cot. The next morning she’d beg Imo to finish the rest of the story, to which Imo would always chuckle. In due time, she’d say. You need to learn patience, Iyana. She smiled at the fond memory.
“Many years ago, when the stars walked upon the earth,” Imo glanced at Altair. He gave her a small nod. “The old gods gifted a couple just a spark of their magic in order to help keep Arinem safe. The woman became known as the Aztia and the man grew into the Kanaliza role. There are many things that remain unknown about them, but we know the Aztia is capable of great magic, and the Kanaliza is there to act as a conduit and amplify that magic. The two work together in a symbiotic relationship, as one cannot be victorious without the other.
“The first Aztia and Kanaliza were known as noble warriors and were highly revered. After they passed to the Everlands, another Aztia and Kanaliza were born, and this pattern continued for every generation. While the originals were a romantic couple, that did not always hold true for the newly chosen ones, as they were randomly born across the world. However, they found themselves instinctively drawn together, like two opposing poles of a magnet.”
Iyana felt Emmeric’s gaze on her face, and she pointedly ignored him. He might have been attractive, with his toned muscles, the intricate tattoo snaking up his entire left arm, and those striking blue eyes… Iyana refocused. He’s the enemy, she reminded herself.
“Over time, the legend of the original warriors was forgotten,” Imo continued, “and as magic became more and more diluted within humans, people started viewing the Aztia and Kanaliza as a threat. When together, the amount of magic they produced was akin to godhood, especially compared to a modern human’s magic. And so, if their identity was discovered, they were typically executed.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Emmeric said. Imo gave him a chiding look, and Iyana swallowed a giggle. Her grandmother really disliked her stories being interrupted. At least he had the decency to appear embarrassed. “But what does any of this have to do with us?” He gestured between the two of them, and she slapped his hand away. He scowled at her, unimpressed, and Iyana responded by sticking her tongue out at him.
“If you’re quite done acting like children,” Imo snapped, “I was about to tell you.”
“Sorry, Mata Imo,” said Iyana. Although, making fun of Emmeric made her warm inside, and she wasn’t sure if that meant she should do it more or less.
“As I was saying,” the old woman continued, “as soon as Iyana was born, I felt it. The magic. Your potential. You’re the Aztia, my dear.” Imo’s tone was gentle, but the statement ricocheted through Iyana’s soul. Her head shook from her denial without being aware of the motion.
“That’s impossible. I haven’t shown any inclinations of magic, and I’ve tried! I’ve tried…” The beginnings of panic crept in—her chest tightened, her breathing quickened, and her face began to tingle, then turned numb. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, Altair was next to her, smoothing back her hair. His golden eyes held her gaze. She had completely forgotten he was in the room.
“Easy,” he said, as though she were a skittish animal. “Deep breaths.” Iyana did as he commanded, feeling the tightness retreat and a soft glow filled her chest instead. She raised her eyebrow at Altair. “I may have helped a little…” He wiggled his fingers in the air and smiled. “Magic.”
She took another deep breath to steady herself. Mata Imo gave her an apologetic look and continued, “I discussed my concerns with your parents.” Iyana never knew her parents—Imo seldom talked of them, but maybe now she’d finally get some answers. “My daughter Isa and her husband Iver…” Grandmother had tears in her eyes. Iyana had never once seen Imo cry.
Grandmother cleared her throat, blinking the tears away. “They decided when you were one year of age, they were going to find help. They wanted to break this ‘curse’ as they called it and said they’d go to the ends of the world to find answers.” Imo made eye contact with Iyana. “I haven’t seen them since.” Iyana deflated. At least she now had some answers as to why her parents had left, but in their wake, an entire slew of new questions arose.
“Um…” Emmeric interrupted again. “Does every name in your village start with ‘I’?”
Imo nodded like this was a pertinent question. “Oh, yes, everyone. Well, except for Kelvin.”
“Kelvin?”
“He’s not from this continent, and a mystery I have yet to work out…” Imo stared into the distance for a moment, then clapped her hands. Iyana chuckled. There was no Kelvin in their village, but Emmeric’s face appeared he’d be thinking about this for a while, and what exactly made ‘Kelvin’ special. “Anyway, Iyana, my dear, I am so sorry to have kept this from you for so long. I only wanted to ensure your safety. I had hoped this day would never come.” She understood; her grandmother only had her best interests at heart, but it didn’t diminish the pain of being left out of this monumental piece of her identity. The situation was still confusing and muddled—she couldn’t figure out where she fit in the world as the Aztia. Emmeric was obviously the Kanaliza. It was the only reason Imo would allow a stranger, and an Athusan at that, to continue this discussion with them, but he didn’t seem to realize it yet.
Emmeric ran a tattooed hand through his dark hair and tugged slightly. “Why am I here?” he asked. Nope, definitely hadn’t realized. Iyana lamented being shackled to an imbecile. “And how did you know my name?” He directed this last question at Imo.
“Emmeric,” Imo chided. “You really think with my granddaughter as the Aztia I wouldn’t do research into who the Kanaliza is? I have known for many years who you are, thanks to some of my healer friends in Athusia. They sensed the innate magic in you, as I did with Iyana.”
Iyana glanced towards Altair, who, other than helping her through her panic attack, had been sitting in his chair serenely watching the interaction. Emmeric and Imo continued to discuss something regarding him or the Kanaliza; honestly, Iyana cared little. It had faded to the background as she studied the star in front of her. A living, ancient being—not human—was sitting in her grandmother’s hut, and they were all leaving him out of the conversation. His head turned slowly toward her, and her breath gave the slightest hitch. Altair’s lips upturned at the corner in the beginning of a smile before his gaze traveled lower over her body. Golden eyes became molten with heat, and Iyana felt the warmth to her core.
Iyana.Something niggled at the back of her brain, but at that moment there was no world outside of Altair.
“Iyana!” her grandmother shouted, shaking her out of her trance. She looked between Imo and Altair, and now there was definitely a smirk on his face. Smug bastard… “Are you even listening?”
“I’m sorry, Grandmother. This is just… a lot to process,” she said, avoiding Imo’s gaze while trying to quell the heat between her thighs. “There are so many questions—I don’t know where to begin.” Emmeric grunted in agreement with her. It was annoying that they agreed on anything, but whatever.
Imo nodded knowingly. “There’s a bottle, dear, up in the corner cupboard. It’s labeled ‘for medicinal purposes only’. Could you fetch that?”
Iyana did as she asked, handing it down to her in the chair. “What is that for, Grandmother? I don’t think I’ve seen you use it before.”
Imo chuckled. “Ever the academic. It’s alcohol, love. It’s for drinking.” She took a pull from the bottle and grimaced. “It’s homemade, I’m afraid, but that’s what you get when you’re as isolated as we are.” Iyana took her seat as Imo passed the bottle to Emmeric.
He took a long drink without so much as blinking. “It’s honestly better than some of the swill I’ve had before. My compliments.” He saluted the bottle to Imo before handing it to Iyana. She took a small sip, which immediately caused her to choke. Pounding her chest to clear the burn searing her entire esophagus, she looked at Imo incredulously.
“You drink that?”
“Hand it here,” Altair said. “It’s been ages since my last drink.” She happily gave it to him. The blissful look on his face from only a sip of the alcohol made the burn completely disappear, and Iyana decided she definitely wanted to see that expression again.
“Speaking of,” Imo began, “maybe we should begin with the most pressing question and address the camel in the room.” She motioned towards Altair. “I’ve never come across anyone or any book with knowledge of how the stars came to be in the sky. Care to fill in the details?”
“It’s been a millennium. The details get a little fuzzy after all that time,” Altair intoned.
Imo narrowed her eyes at him, then focused again on Iyana. “Regardless of how they got there, I became aware the stars were able to sense an Aztia’s magic, but only if their attention focused on the night sky for too long. Hence, my rule of avoiding the stars all these years.”
“They’ll whisper you your fate…” Iyana muttered to herself.
“Exactly,” Imo said sadly.
Altair leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers. “That is how I came to be here, Iyana. We heard your plea for help. It would have been impossible to ignore, honestly, with all the magic you put behind your voice.”
“I didn’t use magic to call to you. I only yelled.”
Altair smiled. “Not that you were aware of. But you summoned us nonetheless, and I answered. I’m here to help.”
“Okay…” said Iyana. “Thanks. But I think we’re all fine now? Your little light show scared off all the Athusans. Other than this asshole here, anyway.” She jabbed her thumb toward Emmeric.
“Hey…” he grumbled.
“So off you go, back to the sky.” She dismissed him with a shooing motion of her hands.
Imo and Altair shared a loaded look. Iyana wanted to groan. “I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” said Altair.
“Now that you and Emmeric have found each other, you’re both in more danger than you realize,” said Imo. “Altair can help protect you. And as much as I wish you didn’t need it, he can train you with your magic, too.”
“You’re going to need my help, Iyana. There is more at stake than you realize.” Altair gave her what she assumed was the most apologetic expression he could muster.
“Why can’t you just tell us?” Emmeric asked. “Why is there so much secrecy?” His voice raised in pitch, anxiety coating every word. “I need some air. I’ll be back.” With that, he stood and stomped his way out of the hut. She heard him yell from outside, “And why is it so godsdamned hot?”
“He’ll come around,” said Imo.
Iyana’s eyes bounced from the door to Altair to her grandmother. “I’m honestly not sure I want him to.”
Emmeric
Emmeric gripped his hair in both fists and attempted not to panic. It was easier said than done. He sank onto his haunches, avoiding the hot desert sand, and curled in upon himself. He closed his eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths. This was fine. He was fine. There was obviously some huge mistake. Maybe Iyana had accepted her involvement in all of this—she’d already called down a star, after all—but he refused to be caught up in someone else’s drama.
He couldn’t have magic. There had been no inklings of power. He imagined there would have been tingling or something were he to be this magical Kanaliza. Imo had to be mistaken. A final deep breath, one he made sure he felt to his toes, and he stood. He’d march right back into the godsforsaken hut and tell all of them there had been a misunderstanding, and he would be taking his leave. Thank you very much for not killing me, he’d say. Then he would find his way back to Athusia. Emmeric vowed to walk the entire desert if he needed to in order to escape the craziness here.
He built the resolve to announce his plans when he heard Iyana’s anguished scream.
Emmeric would later ignore the way his heart paused in that moment. Then he was running. He sprinted into the hut, vision adjusting slowly to the dimmer lighting. Imo was on the floor, Iyana clutching the old woman to her chest. Imo’s eyes were closed, and it was only then Emmeric realized the healer’s chest wasn’t moving.