Embedded Files
The Sun On The Horizon
Chapter Five
One Last Thing (To Do)
Note: Some readers who are sensitive to certain subjects may wish to highlight the following, but be advised it does contain spoilers: This chapter deals with thoughts of suicide.
The stars were all wrong.
For the third morning in a row, Daniel sat wrapped in the warmth of a thick blanket, ensconced in the funky form-fitting furniture on the roof of Sabire’s home.
The day after Gransire’s innocent, world-shifting question, the Clan had packed up and resumed their original course toward a far-off town where they were expected for a celebration-come-gathering several weeks hence. They left behind seven lonely graves, a shattered alien space ship and the last physical connection Daniel had with Ba'al. The mental ties however, stretched thin, taut and ever-reaching.
While his bruises faded, strained muscles relented and his broken bones hurt just a little less each day, Daniel felt out of sorts. His bodily rhythm was off-kilter. Sleep claimed him in the bright afternoons, sometimes releasing him for the evening meal, sometimes not. And then he’d wake in the wee small hours, as the first bird calls carolled up from the scrubby flora. Restless, unable to sleep anymore, and not wanting to disturb Sabire – whom he’d insisted share the enormous bed when he’d realised the man was sleeping on the cushions in the main room – Daniel had cautiously made his way outside and peglegged up the staircase to the roof.
With so much to think about, he found the cold star-bright darkness perfect inducement to sit and gaze blankly at the heavens, letting his mind and soul enjoy a brief peace from the worries that would plague him the rest of the day.
He wriggled further into the chair, still getting a kick out of how it moulded to his body shape without feeling like it was swallowing him. He remained staring at the sky. Unfamiliar star clusters were slowly moved along by the planet’s rotation. Try as he might to resolve them into the shapes of his home skies – both Earth and Abydos – this new astral plane remained a stranger to him.
He wondered what myths had been created for these stars by the people of N'Has'y. Sabire may know. He’s quite a font of unusual tales. Daniel remembered nights spent with Jack, up on his roof, peering through the telescope and attempting to spot the star around which orbited the planet they had most recently visited. It was something they did less frequently these days, as workloads ate into their free time. That first year, especially when Daniel was staying with Jack: that had been a special time, when Jack’s tales of how the stars had earned their names – some surprisingly accurate, others outrageously fictional – had become a comfort of memories. Their remembrance brought a warm feeling of belonging and attachment that a grieving and lost beginner explorer had desperately craved. Now, just as lost, Daniel wrapped himself in the warmth of Jack’s stories and picked out a star that may be, if you didn’t think about it too hard, might be… Earth’ sun.
‘Wonder what the others are doing?’ he muttered. ‘Still looking for me? Probably been pushed back onto the mission rota by now.’ Neither alternative was very appealing. He hated the thought of his teammates fruitlessly searching planet after planet for him, yet picturing them giving up – or being forced to give up – and get back to their jobs left him cold. He pictured himself strolling back through Earth’s ‘gate – GDO lockouts aside – being met by cheering SFs, astonished teams, gob smacked general. Jack would come up with another embarrassing nickname for him: Spacemonkey had taken years to live down. There’d be a brass band, maybe. Pie, for sure.
A stupid smile pulled at his lips.
‘Boy, do I have a story to tell you guys.’
And then what? The smile faltered. Ba'al wasn’t likely to give up. His whole plan – galactic domination or whatever it was – apparently rested on the information he thought Daniel possessed.
‘He won’t give up. He won’t stop till he finds me. He might come here, find a whole new source of hosts for his Jaffa, plunder the planet of its resources while he’s at it. And if I’m not here, if I get back home, there’s nothing to stop him coming after me. He’s already broken the Asgard treaty. He’ll send more bounty hunters – I won’t be able to go anywhere without being on guard – if General Hammond even let’s me leave the mountain. Or… Ba'al will come in Ha’taks. Why not? It’s so important to him. Then what… track the Stargate, sit in orbit over the mountain and demand they hand me over? Why not just destroy a few cities first, then ask.’
A yawning well of despair hovered at the back of his consciousness. The situation would never end, not until Ba'al had what he wanted. No miraculous homecoming would end this, the most bizarre stage of an admittedly odd life. For a moment he allowed himself to picture the rest of his life: the Goa'uld would inevitably catch up to him, take him back to Tsydon, then having been emptied of the vital, unknowable knowledge Ba'al would present him to Astarte, a plaything to be pawed and ravaged, to be made a demi-god for a susceptible people, his life-span warped by the soul-stealing sarcophagus, until one day he would become host to the fertile offspring, conceived with his own DNA, to live forever a dead man. His team, his friends, would never know what had become of him.
I suppose my message never reached them.
‘Daaniel?’
He flinched, eyes opening to see Sabire at the head of the stairs, outlined by the rising sun.
‘Greet the dawn, Sabire.’ Daniel managed a weak smile. He shivered and had to consciously push away his dark thoughts.
‘I have a pot of scampy warming,’ Sabire offered, tactfully not questioning why Daniel sought the chill solitude of the roof each morning.
This time Daniel’s smile was full and genuine. ‘Just what I need. Help me up?’
Thoroughly warmed by the scampy, a spiced, fermented fruit drink whose alcoholic content left his head buzzing, Daniel followed Sabire out to join the Clan for breakfast. Negotiating the steps down from the caravan proved to be unusually difficult, so Sabire offered his services for a piggy-back ride, then proceeded to carry Daniel all the way to the circle and carefully deposit him in his chair.
Ayshal met them. The tall, friendly woman had assigned herself the task of feeding Daniel breakfast – winning out over what he suspected was earnest competition.
‘Greet the dawn, honoured Daaniel.’
‘Live the day, Ayshal,’ he replied. He smiled up at her and settled into the cushioned wooden seat that had quickly become his. As soon as he looked up she placed a bowl of hot vegetables and rich gravy in his hands. ‘Thank you. Wow, that smells great.’
She dimpled with pleasure, then snaked a hand out behind her and caught Sabire by the ear as he hovered over her bubbling pot.
‘Ayee, you will cripple me with your talons, dearest,’ he squeaked. ‘I fade from hunger and can only be revived by the exquisite bouquet of your creation.’
Daniel grinned into his food. This scene was played out every morning. Ayshal delighted in tormenting Sabire: some kind of retribution for a past disagreement in their teenage years.
‘Fade from hunger…,’ she snorted. ‘You think I do not see you, skulking from my pot to Jinya’s, to Kinkala’s to Jacuna’s, pleading imminent death at each. You eat more than any other person in the Clan, Sabire.’ She gave him a withering glare. ‘A waste of food, if you regard my opinion.’
Sabire threw a wink at Daniel, then turned on the charm. ‘Ah, my beautiful, enraged Aysh—I only sample the others’ pitiful offerings to remind myself how superior are the concoctions of your talented hands. There is no finer food amongst the Kendasai, in the region, or I suspect even on this continent.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll tell Jinya you think her cooking pitiful.’
The good humour washed from Sabire’s face. Bottom lip quivering with only partial theatrics, he folded his long legs and sat at her feet. ‘I promise to stay faithful to your cooking pot, Aysh and to sing its praises to all who will listen.’ He batted his eyelashes at her. Daniel chuckled softly.
Ayshal frowned, sure she’d lost that round somehow. She dumped the remains of the food into Sabire's bowl then thrust the pot at him. ‘Less singing and more cleaning will earn my favour.’
They bickered through the meal and the dismantling of camp. Sabire finally escaped by assisting Daniel, almost carrying him again, back to his bright home. Still feeling awake and reasonably alert, Daniel elected to sit in the main room rather than head back to bed as he had most days. He levered himself down into a vast, squashy chair.
Sabire hovered anxiously until he was settled, then turned to a panel of artfully painted silk. He slid it aside, revealing the controls that operated the caravan. A pressed button engaged the engine, which was so quiet only the glowing indicator showed it was active.
‘Can you move the mode on its independence?’ He winced, certain his still-limited vocabulary picked the occasional wrong word.
Sabire nodded. ‘Certainly. We may travel anywhere we please, alone or in company with another or many others. However, it is much more pleasurable to allow another to direct your path.’ He flipped several switches, tapped in a code and cranked a small wheel on the panel. A confirmation light glowed in response.
On cue, a young voice filtered through the speaker hidden somewhere in the ceiling. ‘Greet the day, Kendasasi. Chanla steers your passage this day. All vehicles are presented for travel. Off we go!’
With barely a hint of motion the home rose on its air cushion. Movement caused him to look up at the skylight and his mouth dropped open as two tall, slim poles rose up out of small bollards on the roof. Sails emerged from inside the poles and unfurled in the morning air, large blue slices of the sky that embraced the breeze and stirred the house into motion. Daniel watched fascinated as the homes around them lifted and moved forward, all held to exactly the same cruising speed: no faster than a person could jog. They trundled along in an unformed bunch, sophisticated proximity detectors keeping each home well separated from the next.
Through the windows he could see the Clan going about their daily lives: tending roof-top gardens, washing clothes or children, cooking, cleaning, learning or crafting. Sabire went off for a long soak in the bath, then returned to settle opposite Daniel, behind an intricate, spindly musical instrument. The soft harp-like melody washed over them, and soon sent Daniel to sleep.
Everything was white. Long curtains hung before huge open windows, stirred by a breeze laden with the scent of unfamiliar flora, sharp and strangely bitter. Other scents drifted up from pots warmed by glowing coals, combining in a numbing fog that left his brain floating apart from his body. He stared at his hand, resting on the white cloth covering his legs. Didn’t look like his. The hand or the leg.
With an effort he looked away, dazzled by shards of light gleaming from hundreds of jewels that bordered the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Didn’t look like him, either. Hair shaggy and disarrayed in a style he’d not worn for three years. That was the old Daniel. The innocent, the gullible. The one who still clung to the hope of rescue and redemption.
Something passed between himself—and himself. Bare, muscled flesh bade his gaze to follow. Another of “them”, the silent servants. They never came too near but they unnerved him all the time. The alien tattooed over the hip, reaching up over belly and chest, mouth agape, ready to strike… that’s what confounded him, horrified him. It belonged inside, hidden behind the pretence of being human, not glorified in ink and skin.
He looked away past golden bowls filled with food, diamond goblets sparkling with wine, the serene girl tinkling music from a lyre in the corner. He strove to remember why he was here, where here was, when she would return… His fingers brushed cold silk. Copper and gold fabric crumpled in his hand, discarded in the mussed sheets he was sitting on…
The tinkling music was still in his ears when he jerked and woke. Sabire was still playing his instrument, the melody mingling with the resonant music of his dream. Or was it memory? It seemed too detailed, too familiar to have been conjured. He knew the answer lay within reach, but he turned away from it. There were problems enough, here, now.
Lunchtime was a picnic in the shade of tall fern trees that sheltered in a little stream-fed gully. Daniel sat, ate, answered when spoken to, but he couldn’t engage with anyone as he normally would. He felt a wall was erecting itself between himself and those around him.
Moving among these cheery, chatty folk, he felt so isolated, as if there were a spotlight beaming down on him, aimed by Ba'al from his palatial comfort on Tsydon, and it illumed him as The Target, The Resource, The Bringer of Doom. Worse, he felt exposed, had to keep aborting a furtive look to check his flies were closed – not that the soft pants gifted by Jacuna even had flies. He felt like he’d been cut open, all his inner secrets, torments and desires left to lie in the glare of others’ scrutiny, to wither and die unprotected and alone.
Like a turtle, he was withdrawing into a defensive shell, protecting his own frayed soul and the Kendasai from contact with him. He sought the comfort of bed in the afternoon, but sleep eluded him. He lay staring out at the passing scenery as the thoughts in his head swirled slower and slower, gradually thinning out to one simple, inexorable decision. Once defined, it would not leave him alone. He turned it around, looked at it from every angle. Considered everything that had come before, everything that would follow in the pass of time.
It would, perhaps, be enough.
Å
The days rode by in a dazzling stretch of unending ochre sand dunes. Glorious green oases were plentiful, following the course of an ancient river bed. Stops were frequently made to explore each oasis, the children vying to be the first to show ‘Daaniel’ something new. Tiny bright-blue birds flitting through the grasses at the water’s edge, or four-foot long reptiles with a heritage as ancient as the sand were proudly discovered and named to him.
Daniel’s linguistic lessons continued steadily, an exchange of words and meanings as profound as any he had experienced before. His concentrated intonation and Sabire’s joyful bass repetition hanging on the breeze amid the shush of sails and swish of air over sand were the only sign of their home’s passing. And yet there was little joy finding room in Daniel’s heart. It was increasingly becoming a cold thing, pumping ever slower under the weight of dread seeping into him. He tried to hide it, stayed in bed just that little bit later each day and found excuses for more time alone. Sabire’s concerned glances slid off him, deflected by the growing certainty that the death and destruction that seemed to follow his footsteps for the last five years was about to once again catch up to him.
Anwylyd. Anwylyd, help me.
Sha’re was close these days. He never feared loneliness with her near and she was here with him in these dunes and barren stretches. He saw her in the smiling faces of the young women who came to offer food and clothes and books to the poor stranger who was - to their thinking - trapped with that artless bounder Sabire who would let the injured Daaniel starve to death. Her voice was in the sands blowing through the furled sails at night. He found her giggle in little Teana, looking so like the child that could have been. At night she was lying next to him, so real he could feel the gentle curve of her hip under his hand. Her presence was as vital as breathing to him. She knew he was making a decision and that he could not be alone to make it.
Å
In the stillness of the sixth night after Gransire had brought reality back to Daniel, he reached his decision.
Twilight crept into the corners of the room, cast freakish shadows through the towering rock formation they had camped beside. Never before had he so keenly missed Jack’s presence. He could only hope for understanding.
Keeping the essence of Sha’re as close to him as another living skin, Daniel slid from the bed, cautiously supporting his ankle. Three feet away on the other side of the bed, Sabire twitched but did not awaken. Using the crutches as a brace, Daniel pulled himself upright, hobbled to the robe-stand and opened the curtain. So many beautiful clothes, all gifts given with unselfish pride. Hand tailored, hand embroidered or just favourites presented with delight. Such good people these. He selected a plain, deep red wrap – endearingly the same shade Sha’re had worn on their wedding night – simply slipped on and tied at the waist.
Moving as quietly as one could with a wooden appendage, he went into Sabire’s den. At the desk he wrote the note he had composed fifty times in his head during the last few nights. No hesitation now, the words laid themselves out succinctly. That done, Daniel gathered the only other thing he needed, and stole to the rear door.
Dammit. He’d told himself he wasn’t to do this, but at the moment of action it was easier thought than done. He looked over his shoulder at the shadowy outline of Sabire, still slumbering peacefully. Regret that would stay with him for the rest of his life clutched in cold, painful fingers around his heart.
Move now, Danny.
He was out the door, dot and carrying down the steps, mind going blank and depending on automation. He shuffled quietly through the camp. It was a beautiful night. Stars twinkled overhead in the clear, dark sky. A soft breeze brushed his face. It stirred the leaves on the siddoc trees under which the caravan was parked. Here and there a yellow glow of light seeped out from a home, an occasional open window gave him a glimpse of Dhani washing dishes, Trettish drying herbs, Radha rocking her fretful baby. By the rear of Sandosh’s van the darkness gave way to a spotlight illuminating he and Frani, discussing the disassembled pedder they lay under. Brief snatches of normal, peaceful lives. They beckoned to Daniel, tried to draw him in, dissuade him from his path. He turned away. Refusal of this haven was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Out into the open, rocky ground, he headed steadily towards the pathway through the boulders, and the steep but not impossible climb to the highest one in the jumbled pile.
Å
Surprised faces watched him go, then their owners’ attention returned to the illicit feast being consumed under old Fahri’s house.
Å
The moon was near to dipping under the horizon by the time Daniel made his careful way around the final bend in the path and found himself at the summit of the rocks. Below in the distance, the camp sat in darkness, only a couple of lit windows gave away its location. Daniel felt rather surprised: the rocks had not seemed so far away from the ground. Turning away, he oriented himself by the moon and found a flattish boulder that he could sit on and stretch out his aching leg.
The moon slid away, gone to hide from the sun. Dark settled all about him. Night creatures skittered through the rocks, heading for their own shelter from the sun. Silence wrapped around Daniel as the world paused, gathering for the transition from night to day. An almost imperceptible lightening in the far distant sky directly in front of him told Daniel he had selected the correct spot to greet the dawn.
He waited.
Really, there was no need to wait; his course was decided. In his heart however, there remained certain things to be considered. And he would like to feel the sun’s rays on his face. One last time.
He shifted his rump a little, the night-time cold of the rock seeping through the robe. He pulled out the knife appropriated from Sabire’s kitchen and laid it at his side, not even glancing at it. The note left for Sabire asked for their understanding. To accept that the only way to prevent Ba'al’s scouring of N’Has’y was for him to find Daniel’s body with the Jaffa, to end, for once and for all the Goa'uld’s hold over him, to thwart the plans that would only ever bring misery and death to so many people on so many planets. Not even a sarcophagus could bring a decomposing body back to life. Daniel’s thanks for the care the Kendasai had shown him would ever be inadequate.
The not-darkness was a little brighter now.
The prayer came to his mind, unbidden but now welcome.
O Benu,
Bird Who Rises from the Flames.
I call upon thee
Protect me from all ills that approach from the east.
O Benu, Keeper of the Eternal Fire
Protect me from all ills that approach from the south.
Phoenix, Guardian of the Sacred Persea Tree
Protect me from all ills that approach from the west.
Sun Bird of the Rising Disc
Protect me from all ills that approach from the north.
O Benu, Sacred to the Sun God
Remain at all times about me.
Nefer-Benu-Tchafu-Nes, Nefer-Benu-Tchafu-Nes.
Beautiful Bird of Burning Flames
When I cannot hear, lead me.
O Benu, Divine and Most Holy Bird
When I cannot see, show me the way.
Benu, Who Comes Forth From the Ashes
Let me recognize and seize the opportunities that I am granted.
O Benu, Lord of Heliopolis, City of the Sun
Let thy hand work through me.
Guide me to my path of destiny.
Grant me now thy power.
Nefer-Benu-Tchafu-Nes, Nefer-Benu-Tchafu-Nes.
The Phoenix prayer, uttered over the graves of his parents so long ago, as fresh in his memory as the day his mother had taught it to him.
A grey band was definitely visible now, picking out the horizon. One by one the stars faded, giving ground before the relentless approach of the day.
He thought of his friends on Earth, their faces coming to him so clearly: Sam, alight with excitement as another little piece of the universe unfolded before her; Teal’c, his gravitas and proud bearing taking a beating as he absorbed another gem of Tau’ri life; Jack, brown eyes twinkling, malapropisms flowing, his relaxed alertness never ceasing. Daniel smiled at them, amazed anew at how three seasoned, professional soldiers had accepted his first stumbling efforts to be one of them, never criticising him for his shortcomings, always ready to teach and guide, at the same time coming to appreciate and even value his own knowledge and skills. They were the very best that friends could be.
Nick – out there with the Giant Aliens. Odd, how the Stargate had brought them back together, yet separated them forever. Grandpa.
A warm sliver of orange shimmered up over the horizon, tendrils of light sneaking up into the clouds. Memories were returning to him, random and vibrant. The promise of sunrise took him back home, his second home, where he and Skaara had joined the other young men in night hunts on Abydos, wearily making their way back to Nagada as the sun resumed its journey across the sky. The memories skipped forward and Daniel smiled, seeing Skaara’s face alight with pleasure as he returned to his father’s embrace, finally free of Klorel. Now, that had been a party. Kasuf had been so happy, so… drunk. Daniel had found his own loss had made the moment that much sweeter.
Kasuf was a father to him as he had never thought possible. To welcome a stranger such as Daniel himself into the family’s embrace, to accept the myriad of oddities that Daniel kept coming up with, was beyond generous. To make perfectly clear to Daniel that he was a member of the family for life, even after losing Sha’re and her child… the recollection brought a fierce lump to his throat. Soundlessly, Daniel whispered his thanks to his Good Father.
The sun was halfway over the horizon now, settling into a deep, brilliant yellow.
‘Do you remember, Anwylyd, when we would wrap ourselves up in each other’s warmth, listening to the wind of the winter storms. We would go stand in the sentry tower and watched the dawn break through the clouds.’
She was so close now, he could see her cheeky smile, her beautiful eyes, her bright pixie face filled with love. The first morning breezes carried the scent of her thick, fresh hair. Almost, he could hear her laughing.
What now filled his soul was not grief, or despair, or anger. All that was gone. He was content, cleansed of the burdens that had rested so heavily upon his heart. It was time to move on.
Wait for me.
The sun popped fully up over the threshold of night, spreading new light across the land. Daniel loosened the tie of his robe, letting it fall from his shoulders. The crisp dawn air bit at his bare chest and back.
The knife was in his hand, held up in front of his face. He examined it carefully – razor sharp on both sides, long and coldly efficient. Jack was beside him now, his clear, direct instructions on angle and thrust almost audible. One quick movement would do the job. Daniel was grateful for the knowledge, grateful he’d not had to do this to another person.
‘Thanks, Jack.’
The sun floated higher; the knife bisected it.
It was time.
He barely heard the footstep behind him. His focus held on the knife, on the next path his soul would take. On seeing his beloved again.
A moment passed. His hand stayed, firm and resolved, yet he knew his solitude had been intruded upon. He turned the knife, catching shards of sunlight on the blade.
‘I cannot know the pain of separation from those you love, from your home, from your world.’ Sabire’s rich voice came from behind.
Daniel said nothing. Mind and heart were empty, sealed up, locked away for the duration.
‘I know a little of the pain your decision brings you, Daaniel. I do know nobody should die alone. I… I offer my poor self as witness. Or just company.’
A flicker of thought teased at Daniel’s mind. He kept his eyes on the sun, inching ever upward.
‘F… forgive my intrusion, my friend, but I would have you know I respect your choice and… should you choose to… stay, I will respect that also.’
A tiny frown creased his forehead. Why would he stay? He’d been through all that. It was over. ‘I won’t be the cause of your downfall.’ The words slipped out, past the emptiness that had shrunk, just a little.
‘Such a thing would be intolerable.’
Yes. The emptiness widened its hold again. Sabire and his world retreated.
‘However, it would be no easy victory, for this little worm.’
Frustration opened a wedge in the emptiness.
‘You don’t know what he’s like.’
‘No. Nor does he know what he will face, should he dare come here. It will not be so easy, I think, for him.’
‘You can’t say that. He’s relentless. The only way to protect you is to remove what he wants from his grasp.’
‘Perhaps. But perhaps this is our time, Daaniel. Our time to leave our nest and walk amongst the stars, to stand with our brothers and sisters, and stomp on these worms who cause so much heartache.’
Curiosity widened the wedge. Thoughts began to tick over his brain once again. ‘You don’t have a Stargate.’
‘No. True. Then we shall have to build a starship and fly through the Deep to visit our lost kin. It should be quite a lot of fun.’
‘Sabire…’ Daniel sighed, only partly annoyed that the peace in his heart was slipping away from him.
‘You brought us the stars, Daaniel. Whether you stay to show us the way, or follow your own journey, we will always be grateful to our Sky Fallen.’
Damn. Sha’re was fading from him, slipping back into the netherworld, leaving him with a caress of love. He knew then the moment had passed, that he would have to endure more time on this side of life before they could be reunited. One day…
‘Wait for me,’ he whispered.
Carefully, he laid the knife on the cold rock. He looked up at the gold-hued dawn sky.
The sun had left the horizon.
Some time passed before he could pull his robe back over his shoulders. Sabire helped him to his foot and crutch. For a long minute they stood, not looking at the other, their hands clasped tightly.
Getting down the rocky outcrop was more difficult than coming up had been. By the time they rounded the final bend the sun was well into its daily passage.
Daniel settled his crutches in the stony soil and hopped over the last obstacle. Sabire wasn’t moving, just standing there.
‘What’s up?’ He peered around him. ‘Oh—’
They were all there. The whole Clan. From elders to babies, they sat on the ground at the base of the rock formation, silent, watchful, respect for his choices written clear on their faces.
For an instant he felt undone, not worthy of such regard, then it was gone, replaced by an overwhelming surge of amazement and gratitude.
Slowly he hobbled down to them. They stood and formed a corridor for him to pass, their faces grave, eyes twinkling with emotion. He moved through them, each reaching out to stroke his arm, a gesture of love, of belonging.
His soul uplifted to a place he’d never thought he would visit again, Daniel went home.
Å
Two days later as breakfast came to a noisy close, the adults of the Clan seated themselves around Daniel’s chair. Wary, he looked to the elders. ‘Gramire, Gransire?’
Gramire patted his hand fondly. ‘We have been discussion what our next course will be, Daaniel.’
‘I thought we were headed for Twepet town. There was a festival…?’
‘The Harvest Burn, yes. But, we have a better idea.’
‘We are going to Kemyt City, Daaniel,’ Trettish broke in.
‘Kemyt? But that’s clear across the continent, isn’t it?’ He knew it was – he’d studied the maps enough.
‘We believe Kemyt to be the best place to search for signs of your Stargate,’ Daaniel,’ said Jacuna.
‘But…’ It was so far away, well off their annual route.
‘What is the point of having movable homes if one does not use them to discover new places?’ Beni asked.
Gramire nodded. ‘Many years have passed since we travelled to the First City. It will be good for all of us. And just possibly we will find some way to help you contact your home, Daaniel. At the least, we can present you to the Council of Elders, tell them who you are and why you are among us. We can’t ask you to hide from everyone for all your days.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ He looked around at the excited, beaming faces. Maybe there was a chance. Being in the city founded by Merul he might find some trace of technology he could use to communicate across the distance of space.
A small fire of hope kindled in his chest, warming away the ice of solitude that had formed ever since he’d been snatched from Earth.
‘Thank you.’
Å
Anwylyd is the Welsh word for darling.
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The scene on the rocks was one of the first I wrote when originally planning this story, about five years ago. The rest of the chapters filled out around it, and it's taken quite a while to get back to this point. It is immensely satisfying to finally be able to print it.
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