Martyr (The Martyr Trilogy) by N.P. Beckwith

her, unseen, from a distance.”  Now the
corners of her eyes were moist, I could see her swallowing hard.  Collecting
herself she added, “She is amazing with machines and gadgets.  No doubt she got
that chopper running.  Magus doesn’t have any sophisticated aircraft, and
nobody with the knowledge to fix them.  That kind of technology was lost with
those who died from the plague.  This could be a huge tactical advantage for
us.  But now…,” she trailed off, sighed deeply, “chance has brought her right
back into harm’s way.”
     
    “Chance?”
I asked.  “Or choice?  Don’t your people believe that the Chaer-Ul has
something to say about what does and does not transpire?”
     
    She
looked surprised.  Then a warm smile spread across her tear-glazed face, and
she breathed more easily.  “We do indeed.”

 
    8
     
    Nobody
asked me about what had happened in the wilderness.  I kind of expected that
they would, at least those who had known where Reya was taking me.  Instead I
got a few knowing smiles, as if they thought I had received some great
revelation, that I had now become enlightened, self-aware, knowing my true
identity and purpose.  I hadn't.  I looked away whenever I encountered these
faces.  I was not "Martyr", or Tal-Makai.  I was no warrior or hero,
and had no intention of "becoming" any of that.  I had learned a fair
bit more about this world to which I had come, but it seemed the only one who
knew why I was here rather than snug in my dorm room bed was a mysterious
entity called Chaer-Ul, and he or it seemed content to keep me in shadows over
the matter. 
     
    After
my chat with Reya, I had made my way back into the camp as she busied herself
with the mundane tasks of running a rebel camp.  Jeyt caught up with me and
offered to lend me his expertise in spear-handling with a couple of free
lessons.  I promised to take him up on that later, as he had clearly already
had a few draughts and throwing pointy things in his present condition didn't
seem the best idea.  I joined the broad circle of faces around the bonfire,
where Maya was entertaining with tales of vehicle theft and the latest news
from the south.  The people watched with rapt attention, as many of them had
friends or loved ones in other camps.  I spotted Doog sitting on the far side
of the circle, looking stoic and detached.  It occurred to me that I hadn't
heard him speak since our forest meeting earlier. 
     
    I
let my gaze drift to Maya, who was acting out her adventures with dramatic
gestures in the center of the clearing.  She had found opportunity to refresh
herself since we had parted, and I was able to make a better analysis of her
features.  The eyes were Reya, no doubt, but without the soot I could see that
there were more differences than I had at first suspected.  Her face was
smaller than Reya's, nose more delicate, lips a bit fuller and more shaped. 
And efforts had been made to tame all of that hair - a long braid down each
side of her face and the rest pulled back into a thick ponytail.  A few wavy
strands danced about the corners of her forehead.  And all of it shimmered in
the firelight.  She was beautiful.  Maya was a few centimeters shorter than her
mother, but still quite tall and stately, if a bit wiry.  As she painted her
tales in dramatic pantomimed strokes, her bodily movements mirrored in
flickering shadows on the dusty earth, the effect was intoxicating.  An hour
passed without notice.  When at last I caught myself nodding, I removed myself
to my tent. 
     
    Sleep
came fast and easy.  I dreamed.  Not the horrific images of Tal-Makai's final
moments that I might have expected, but a vision of serenity.  I stood as if
emerging from a dense forest that stretched for miles behind me and to either
side.  Before me the trees ended abruptly as a towering slope of soft-grassed
green rose before me, almost to the clouds.  At its peak, the great tree of my
former vision.  At its