A Thousand Years of Hope Ch 3-2

Tani returned to Istanbul in a state of confusion. His right palm stung with the pain of a magik burn. He could not get the burn to heal with the salves he used usually or even the simple spells of his people. It was the first time he could not stop physical pain in his own body. His attention occupied, he ended up in the wetlands on the edge of the Elderwood Conservancy lands.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his coat pocket with his left hand. He swiped the screen to answer the call.

“Yes,” Tani answered, doing his best to walk on the wetlands to dry stable land. His canvas shoes were soaked.

“Where have you been? We’re all worried. You haven’t checked in,” Hera complained. She was his favorite ward. “Where are you, Babu? Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No pickup,” Tani said, managing to step onto dry land. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He let out a sigh and stared at his injured palm with a frown. Shaking his right hand, he looked at the neat fence on the property boundary. Elderwood Conservancy was a property he nurtured with the help of extraordinary mortals like Hera and her parents, among others. The conservancy boasted a hundred and forty hectares of land, protected with support from the government and non-profit organizations, allowing wildlife to thrive on the property at will.

The fences were to keep poachers out. The property joined the main Turkish Coast on a thin strip that allowed wildlife migration. This century was harder than others were. The Elderwood Conservancy was in a constant fight with developers, industrialists, and poachers in a bid to protect the conservation lands. Some days this property on Aretias seemed like the last true wilderness.

Tani ignored the pain on his palm and focused on his teleport. This time he appeared under a large Elderwood tree growing at the back of the square fortress that housed the conservancy’s administration offices.

The building was of old ottoman architecture and was considered a fortress with four towers. Tani commissioned it in the fifteenth century. It was a square building with three flours on each wing and a courtyard in the middle. At the time, the fortress housed any who needed sanctuary from constant war, and anyone running from persecution for being different.

The four towers were used for defense, with a smaller tower at the entrance for control of who entered the fortress.

In this relatively peaceful modern age, the tower at the entrance was redesigned into a modern structure and was now a reception hall for the administration wing of the conservation center. The front, east and west wings of the building were dedicated to the Elderwood Conservancy and its branches around the world. The back wing of the building served as a residential unit for the staff who worked for Elderwood.

Tani hoped no one had seen him appear and turned his back on the fortress. He walked along a cobbled path to a house hidden by tall trees. His personal residence for the last six decades was much smaller than the fortress. It was built with red bricks. The three-story house was where he spent most of his time when he wanted to hide away as Cale put it.

Tani lived with his uncle, who was his mother’s youngest brother.

Uncle Amu had taken on a ward to help them run their house and growing assets. His name was Tom King. Tom’s family was Ekho-blessed. Their bloodline boasted a strong affinity to the earth. Tom had an extraordinary ability to heal damaged soil and encourage growth in plants. He and his family helped run Elderwood. Tom lived in the residential wing of the fortress and only stopped by for meals. Mostly, he stopped by to talk with Amu and Tani when they were home.

As Uncle Amu took in a ward, so had Tani.

In the last three decades, Tani spent most of his time on an island off the coast of East Africa. He only came home to visit his uncle or support Tom on difficult cases with the conservancy. His time in Diani was how he met his ward, Hera.

Hera was of Swahili descent. Her bloodline had a very strong affinity to water. Tani relied on her to smooth his administrative responsibilities.

She moved around with him, so he had given her a suite to stay on the second floor of his personal residence with her daughter. She was a great healer, and would definitely know what to do about his stinging palm, Tani decided.

Tani opened the solid white oak front door. The scent of fresh-baked coffee cookies greeted him.

“Babu?” Hera called from the kitchen when he closed the front door. “Is it you?”

“Yes,” Tani said, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

He walked down the main corridor, passing the open living room with its open terrace doors leading to the beach. He entered the kitchen and paused at the door at the sight of Hera at work.

Hera was in a long colorful skirt and a sleeveless white shirt that framed her curvaceous body to perfection. She was only five foot two, but her vivacious personality made her seem six feet tall. The radio was on, and she was singing Turkish music, butchering the words with confidence and thorough enjoyment. Hearing her crazy singing made him smile.

Her long braids shifted from side to side as she danced to the rhythm of the music.

Tani watched her pull out a sheet pan of fresh coffee cookies, and turn around to place it on the counter with a wide satisfied smile. Her brown skin was warm in the afternoon sun.

It was four in the afternoon here. Tani found the time difference interesting. Breakfast in Kirtland, Ohio, and afternoon tea on an island off the Turkish Coast.

Hera looked up and clapped with her oven mitts when she saw him.

“Babu! Here you are after weeks of disappearance,” Hera said, breaking into her beloved Swahili. She removed the mitts and hurried around the kitchen counter to reach him. “I’m going to ask Tom to place a tracker on you. So we can know where you are when you disappear.”

Tani chuckled as she hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, forgetting his right palm. He grazed his burn on her blouse and hissed at the pain.

Hera stepped back with a frown.

“Why are you wincing?” she asked, looking him down from head to toe. “Why are your shoes wet? What’s happened to you?”

Tani removed his shoes and kicked them to the side. He shrugged off his coat too and placed it on the worktable they used for everything. He let out a soft sigh of relief as the breeze from the open kitchen windows swept into the kitchen. His grey t-shirt billowed a little and he was happy for the cooling down. He extended his right palm for Hera to see.

“I got burned,” Tani said. “Do something.”

“Burned,” Hera took his right hand, and gaped at the sight of the angry red wound. “Wa, who managed to scar you like this? Is it Cale? What did you two do to each other this time? Come, sit down. You two should stop fighting like children. Uncle Amu will chastise you again.”

“It wasn’t Cale,” Tani said, following Hera when she led him to a natural stone counter by the windows. She urged him to sit on a high stool and went around the counter. “I was burned by someone I thought was a mortal.”

Tani sat on the stool, his right hand extended out for Hera’s thorough inspection. She studied the burn with a deep frown. Her long braids fell on each side of her round face. Her brown eyes looked up from his palm to his face, and then back to his palm. She touched the scarred skin with care, the tips of her fingers gentle, even as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Tell me how a mortal burned your hand with firepower? You are Ekho. We, mortals, are never stronger than you are, even when we are Ekho-blessed. How is this possible?”

“I’m very afraid he’s not a mortal,” Tani said, his gaze narrowed in thought. “I think he is a bloodborne warlock. Born into a family with a powerful bloodline, Hera. A bloodline similar to yours or even Tom’s family. It would have to be a very old family, one that has guarded its bloodline fiercely.”

“Interesting,” Hera said, letting go of Tani’s hand. “Your theory means there is a powerful one in your father’s immortal clan who has been sexing up a mortal witch lover in the dark. How naughty.”

Hera stepped away from the stone counter, studying the shelves on the wall behind her. She read the labels on small storage clay jars sitting on the shelf

Hera reached for a small black clay jar at the back of the bottom shelf.

Her long black braids shifted to one side on her back as she reached for a second jar on the second shelf. Tani caught a glimpse of a gold tattoo a sharp contrast to the brown skin on her left shoulder. The symbol was a compound elder leaf with three leaflets. It stood for her family and her dedication to the Elderwood Conservancy.

Hera’s family protected and nurtured. Tani frowned as he watched Hera gather her herbs. Sometimes though, they missed the mark.

“Your wound won’t heal with my herbs and spells,” Hera said in English this time, her accent heavy thanks to her Swahili heritage. “I can only soothe your pain away.”

Hera made no effort to refine her English and preferred her beloved Swahili language. She spoke to Tani in English when she worried and hoped to emphasize the problem in English would make him understand the brevity of his circumstances. Otherwise, she made him speak her beloved Swahili.

“Why?” Tani asked, studying the wound on his palm as Hera collected her tools.

Hera returned to the stone counter holding a glass bowl, a small spatula, and a cup of cold water. She added the herbs from the two jars into the glass bowl. She added a teaspoon of water and got to work mixing the paste.

Tani started to touch the wound on his palm, and Hera slapped his finger away. The gold beaded bracelet on her left wrist jingled. He noted the elder leaf symbol on one of the gold beads.

“This mortal-maybe-bloodborne-warlock is petty,” Hera said, shaking her head, as she mixed her herbs into a paste. “Your wound will only get more painful. He is the only one who can heal you. He wants you to find him.”

What had his beloved told him as he left?

‘I’m sure I’ve hurt you…somewhere. If you want it healed come down here…’

“Ah…Very petty,” Tani agreed with a nod.

Also typical of his beloved, he thought with a small smile.

“This mortal hurts you, and you smile,” Hera said, annoyance in her voice. “I don’t understand you, Tani.”

“You’re not alone,” Tani said, watching as Hera found a pack of cotton buds under the stone counter. She got to work cleaning his wound with water first. He complained and she chided him for being a crybaby.

“Deniz is seven and she doesn’t complain like you when she’s getting her wounds cleaned,” Hera said.

“You’re her mother. She’s scared she’ll make you cry too. I’m not. It hurts,” Tani said. He winced when Hera pressed the cotton bud she held too hard on his burn.

“Distract yourself,” Hera said, shaking her head, and muttering under her breath about weak foxes. “It’s not going to get easier.”

She picked up the little spatula and piled it with the herb paste. Tani groaned and turned away from her ministrations. He hated pain. His beloved was definitely cruel.

“We have a book listing the families blessed with pure power in your library,” Hera said. “Baba thought it was important to track them, in case one turned to the dark side to feed Cale. We all agreed keeping these books in your domain was safest.”

“Your Dad is very smart,” Tani said, gritting his teeth, as Hera applied her herb paste on his wound in a generous portion. “Do you know which of those families are affiliated with fire?”

“Fire is rare. The more popular elements in these families are earth like Tom, water like me, and the wind ones, most of which you have met. There is one powerful house here in Turkey,” Hera said, her tone turning thoughtful. “They are called Arter or Artor. I can’t quite remember how to say their name. Your uncle added them. They do not associate with us and are secretive. It could be the house has died off. It happens sometimes. One generation has a quiet century. The next gains a powerful practitioner.”

Tani felt a bandage press on his palm and he returned his gaze to Hera.

Hera smoothed her fingers over the white bandage making sure it was secure. She met his gaze and grinned, switching back to Swahili.

“You’re a crybaby. There is aloe vera in the paste. It will soothe the pain, and do its best to dry out the worst of the burn. Babu, you need to find this maybe-warlock. You should be careful. I don’t like his style at all,” Hera said, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Would you like to help me find him?” Tani asked, getting up from the high stool.

He curled his fingers on his right hand and grimaced at the numb pain. Shrugging his shoulders, he looked around the kitchen.

“You don’t have anyone you’re cooking for at the moment. You’ll get bored waiting for Uncle and Tom. Deniz is off at school. You should help me.”

“You don’t need to ask twice,” Hera said, winking at him. “Besides, having no visitors means we don’t have something strange going on in the world.”

She put away her clay jars and washed the bowl and spatula in the sink.

Hera came around the stone counter wiping her hands on a small towel. She dumped the small towel into a laundry bin next to the stone counter.

“You’re right,” Tani said. “No visitor means no one is on the run or suffering or causing trouble. Let’s go to the library and find this Artor.”

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Babu – means grandfather

Baba – means Dad