Her eyes opened at the sound. It drew her from her dream, rolling down the tears that had already lined her eyes.
She met with Bazil's fluttering lashes as he woke.
The morning sun had kissed their skin, streaking through the sky with a warm glow.
The playful and pulsing percussion soared through the rustling winds. The shakers trailed along with it, lightly sweeping with "cho-chucucho" sounds.
Rumbling drums loped through the earth, while the flutes hoisted into the sky, breathing airy tunes to match.
Vibrating through the percussion and dancing in deep resonance was an earthy and expressive voice, the woman singing with a full, joyous lilt – calling even the birds to whistle with her.
A jubilant chant echoed with her at the chorus, abundant with delighted voices, their essence reverberating even from afar. As were the endless, rhythmic claps that never lost their flow, no matter how passionate her voice became.
If she rose, so did the chanters. She'd call out in elation, and they'd respond in equal celebration.
Only when Bazil and Salīa glanced at each other did they realize that this could not be coming from Salazāhns, since neither knew this language. Yet just as with Salazāhns, they could feel the life breathed into this vivacious song, and it almost felt like magic.
The words had a folkloric presence, almost as if deeply rooted in and channeled to one's ancestors.
Yet with other teasing sounds and tapping of instruments they hadn't heard before, there was also a small dip in between that leaned into a sensual, sensory path.
Just before it fell too deep, it struck up, yet still lingering with hints of longing.
There was some kind of pleading and glints of danger, blended with otherworldly release. As if someone was smoothening out all the demarcations and letting the flow of both wash over each other.
Faith and fear. Stillness and movement. Pleasure to pain. Light and dark. Love and freedom.
It all felt urgent, Salīa thought, feeling her heart match its beat. Yet it was so powerfully exhilarating at the same time, hopping up and down like a rabbit, and welcoming all to join with the shaking and clapping as the song went on.
All that, yet none of them could see where the sound was coming from.
"It's an invitation," Nagapie said.
"Hmm?"
"We can never see where they are or where they come from.
But we know they're from Amari, inviting us to their Paya Parade, which features all sorts of events that they're hosting.
Most notoriously, the Ala-Bala Tournament. This is their call to let us know they'll be reopening their land to the rest of the realm."
Both pondered on it, only for a moment.
Just as quickly did Salīa and Bazil realize they had fallen asleep in the forest, golden light filtering through the dewy trees and the stream a verdant blue.
They noticed pillows had been placed under them as well as blankets wrapped over them. But they were mostly aware of how they were still wrapped around each other.
Nagapie's condemnatory, "Tsk," immediately had them sitting upright, while memories of their night swirled in their minds.
They noticed that on both sides of them was a tray each of juice and a spread of foods to break their fast.
There was everything from oil-roasted breads, either slathered with sour fig jam or dipped into a braised onion and tomato sauce topped with peppers and beans.
Also, a resplendent bowl of ceaseless fruits, even filled with sundried mobola plums, sliced kei apples in peak golden tartness, and scooped kiwano flesh glinting with bright green.
Beside it was a tall gourd of fruits ground into a soup with the milk of nuts and sweeteners.
Nagapie pointed out that there were, incidentally, some added preserved ingredients stored from when Amari was last open. The lucuma fruit, the mesquite plant, and chia seeds.
Only after they drank it did Nagapie toss Salīa a small jar.
"Your mother sent some hoodjah oil," Nagapie said to Bazil. "It'll help with the rest of your healing, so I added some to your drink."
The corners of Bazil's mouth twitched.
"How much is some?"
"Who knows?" she sighed, shrugging, watching Bazil shoot up in panic.
Then she burst out into a fit of giggles.
Hawking flew in, imitating her, and it seemed they were both laughing at him. Before Bazil's jaw could tick, she wavered her hand.
"I am a healer, you know. So, I already know all about how potently that infamous sangoma prepares her tinctures. It's just a drop each. You're welcome."
"Thank you," Salīa smiled, feeling grateful and slightly lifted from its influence.
"Ah," Nagapie's eyes widened dramatically. "You finally learned some manners, child."
Luckily, Salīa had already felt the euphoric lift of the hoodjah's influence and let that creeping thought of ringing out that child's neck like a towel dissipate.
She instead drifted to the actual towels Nagapie was holding. With a nod, Salīa and Bazil made their way to the separate springs.
It had been emptied for just Salīa to enjoy, and she excused the attendants who wanted to help scrub her.
Fully undressed, she immersed into the warm, relaxing water overlooking the mountain and traced over her body, peering at the inked markings she could see.
While her fingers traveled, she recalled each second of the night, letting herself see it through in her mind. And as she had, a feeling washed over her that swept her back to her dream. It was strange and yet so simple.
She had been freely wandering through a paradise of ever-changing skies, lush grounds growing abundant nourishment, and water – so much water – glimmering in colors so richly luminant it almost looked as if melted smoothly into each other. So clear to peer into, yet the depth of it seemed so expansive.
It was so unimaginably luminescent, its blue glow like that of…this pendant, of wakening water, of my eyes when I…
She woke from her reverie, seeing that she had been staring into the shimmery stream, her pooled reflection looking back at her, revealing her eyes, bright with that gold-blue glow. Her thoughts wandered back.
It became more gold when she defended Bazil, but it seemed to get bluer when she…
Her head shook, thinking the thought ridiculous. But then she unearthed a deeper memory, one buried in the twisting, gnarling archives of her past. When it suddenly went red.
Something that frightened her so much, she tried forgetting it ever happened. And wished she'd never seen it. It was all because of that incident again.
But that didn't matter now.
She was more pleased with her newer discoveries and meditated on them for a long, unhurried while smiling as she felt her clarity with it.
I think I'm finally starting to understand how I can become a better Protector.
She looked at her reflection once more, then said, "Let's test it out."
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