by AO Spade
In the morning, Alvarr dared to venture out of the healing tent. The air was cold, and its bite made him want to shift into his four-legged form, but he dreaded the sickness that would probably accompany the change. Perhaps if I get away from the territory, but I need someone to come with me. The trouble was finding that person before Thane and Nassor found him first. During the day, the camp was deserted because there was no good grazing near it.
Barron is gone. Alvarr had no hope of finding his friend during the day. Perhaps Elder Sevan. No one would bother him if the Elder, still strong and vigorous, were with him. Alvarr suspected that Elder Sevan was only an 'Elder' because he had a special function to the tribe, not because of his age. He is often seen with Laren, but how would I find-
It wasn't a tug from Nature's energy, but Alvarr just knew where the leader was. He crossed his arms over his chest. The last thing he wanted was to speak to Laren, but even if he did not locate Elder Sevan, the leader would keep him safe. Even if Laren refused to interfere, those two wouldn't dare try anything in sight of the leader.
Slowly, the mage began walking away from the silent camp, empty of people already. His bare feet crunched the close-bitten, frosty brown grass. The season had turned so fast, and all around him, the forage was gone. The tribe can’t support another person, much less a hungry foal. And if it was true that he was with foal, he'd already added to the Elders' burden.
He shivered in the cold that seemed to reach down to his bones. None of them were used to the change in air yet, and all of them would call him a fool for spending so much time in man-shape.
But that is because they do not know what ails me. He thought of his dream of Laren, and the mare-mage they had discussed. Did his dreaming mind imply that he was with foal, and the mare-mage was his child? One who could control the weather. Alvarr tossed his head. He was being silly. His dream had to be an expression of his own longing to control the weather so that they could all have enough food for the winter.
He now knew that there were different kinds of mages. He was earth, but he had seen a mare who could move things with her magic. And, though no one believed weather-mages existed, Alvi had surely been one.
The wind stirred, sending a freezing blast over his skin. Alvarr could stand it no longer. He gritted his teeth and shifted to four-legs. To his relief, the nausea that accompanied it was not as strong as he had feared.
To his relief, he started to see places that had not been grazed down to the ground. There is still some food left, for now. He saw the shapes of his tribe-brothers in the distance, and trotted toward the leader as though being pulled by a vine. Elder Sevan's sand-colored form stood next to the big gray leader. Thank Nature.
“Young mage,“ Elder Sevan greeted.
Alvarr nodded to the leader, but turned to the Elder. “Elder, I need to visit Elder Pastor, and wish you to accompany me.“ I did not know I would say that, but it seems like a good idea.
Elder Sevan's head swung to the leader, then back again to stare at the mage. “Is this because of your illness?“ he asked.
“Y-yes, and Elder Mastok does not think I should go out without someone to accompany me, in case...“ He did not want to admit that it was for protection, but he did not want to admit to weakness, either. Alvarr could feel the leader's gaze on him, but he ignored it. There is nothing I need to say to him.
The Elder grunted low in his throat. “I suppose I can do that. Now?“
“Yes, now,“ Alvarr said. If anyone would know what was wrong with him, it was Elder Pastor.
The sand-colored Elder gave his gray mane a quick shake. “Very well. It's early enough to be there and back before sunset.“
Alvarr risked a quick glance at the leader. Laren was watching the tribe-brothers graze, but his ears pointed toward them. He felt no connection with the great gray stallion now. Did I imagine that he is my mate?
He and Elder Sevan turned and walked toward the mountain.
“You know this is a long distance,“ the Elder said. “And you are ill.“
“Elder Pastor has knowledge that I need,“ the mage said. “Elder Mastok has his own ideas, but I want to consult the most aged among us.“
The sand-colored Elder huffed. “Fair enough.“
As they walked, Alvarr examined the frost-hardened ground. The grass had been eaten to stubble even when they had gone a good distance from the camp. The sun shone overhead, but it had already started its descent. They risk the night-fear for food.
“Yes,“ Elder Sevan said. “I see it.“
“The winter is only just beginning,“ Alvarr said. “That is the main reason I want to visit Elder Pastor. If he can help me, I can use magic again.“
The Elder stopped. “What do you mean by 'use magic again?' You cannot use magic?“
Alvarr sighed and swished his tail. “It has always been unpredictable. When I left, it was out of control, like an overripe berry in danger of bursting. But then, I could not use it at all for much of the journey. I thought it was because the land itself supported little life.“
“That is where the blood-flowers grew?“
The mage nodded his head. “Yes. I do not think I had anything to do with that. The flowers grew out of the beast's blood and body on their own.“
“Nature sought the balance for romeya, then.“
Then, killing the beast was not against Nature. Uneasiness about taking a life had still lingered long, but Elder Sevan's steady words dispelled the last of it. “I recovered somewhat on the way home, but the land itself might be interfering.“
“Interfering how?“ Elder Sevan asked, his ears tilted toward Alvarr.
“Since I set foot on our territory, I have been ill. I thought it was because of an unfamiliar plant, but my magic has also been affected. It feels like it is stopped, like a river blocked by a stone. I vomited in man-shape, Elder. Something is very wrong with me.“
“That is not good to hear,“ the older stallion said. He pawed at the ground. “Does the leader know?“
“Oh, yes,“ Alvarr said, unable to do anything to control the bitterness in his tone. “He knows everything.“ Except that we are mates. Or, maybe Laren did know, but chose to ignore it. “I want to be strong for the tribe, Elder.“ And to 'protect myself' when the leader will not. A hot rage stole over him, surprising himself with its fierceness. He imagined himself driving his horn into the chest of Thane, Nassor, and even Laren, and the thought did not fill him with revulsion as it once would have. If I have to kill, I know that I will.
They resumed walking. Elder Sevan had clearly been to the cave, for he led the way. The slanting sun warmed them as they approached the mountains, but the wind blew against them.
And the wind carried a hint of smoke. Fire? Here? Alvarr stopped, and his coat stood on end.
“What is wrong?“ the older stallion asked, turning to look behind him.
His tail lashed his own hind legs in agitation. “Don't you smell it? It is fire. Something is burning.“ He fidgeted, caught between the desire to help and the desire to run.
“Elder Pastor now dwells here,“ Elder Sevan said. “He, too, develops his knowledge, often at night when the mind opens. He may have started a fire, as Elders do when nights get too cold for old bones.“
Alvarr felt foolish when he realized that the faint smoke was not the same as the scent of an entire burning camp. He would not have expected himself to be so weak-minded.
The smoke was not fresh, either. It is only because I am so nervous about my illness. He'd had too much time to think about himself, and he was driving himself a bit mad. The sooner he spoke to Elder Pastor, the better. He has to know the answer to what affects me.
When he started to ascend the slope, he did not hear the sound of Elder Sevan's footsteps. “Are you not coming?“ he asked.
The sand-colored stallion flicked his ears. “The cave is small, and Pastor will want to speak to you alone. It won't take long. I will wait here.“
Alvarr stood at the
entrance of the cave. He could see a faint orange glow within. A fire. Elder Sevan spoke the truth. “Elder Pastor?” he called softly, looking into the darkness. “Are you here?”
Alvarr’s sensitive equine ears picked up the faint rustle of someone rising from a pallet. An aged stallion approached, pure white from ears to leg. Only his hooves and eyes were brown. The mage gasped. “Elder Pastor?” he whispered. He is as bright as moonlight on snow.
“Hello, young mage.” The Elder’s voice always sounded like the wind through leaves, and in his four-legged form, it was no different. “What brings you here? Hopefully, not the same thing that has driven me from the land.”
“I fear that it is, Elder. I desperately need your advice.”
Elder Pastor stared at him for a long moment, then turned. “Come in. You will have to shift. We will run out of room, otherwise,” he added with a hint of humor.
When Alvarr entered the cave, the firelight fell on the images on the walls. The air inside was warmer than outside, though a bit smoky. He shifted to man-shape, and found that the cave sheltered him from the worst of the cold.
“You are looking well, young mage,” Elder Pastor said, folding his equine form down on the pallet next to the cave wall. “It is good to see, in these times of trouble.”
“You, too, look well,” Alvarr said. “I…” He licked his lips and forced himself to speak. “Elder Mastok told me something surprising. I have been dizzy, weak, and nauseous since my return, even to the point of vomiting. When I went to Elder Mastok with this, the reason he gave is so very wrong.“
“Wrong in what way?“ The ancient man tilted his head, ears pointed forward toward the mage.
“It is just not possible. The Elder is learned, but I fear that this time, his learning has led him astray.“ It felt like a betrayal to say that about his trusted friend, but Alvarr wanted Elder Pastor to know his fears.
“And what did he say?”
“He said that I am with foal.” With foal. The words didn't make any more sense uttered in front of Elder Pastor. Alvarr shuffled his hooves on the cave floor, feeling very foolish.
But the pure white stallion did not show any reaction. Alvarr had expected him to laugh, as he, himself, had done, or express great disappointment that Elder Mastok had become so fanciful. Instead, the ancient man gave a great sigh, got up from his pallet, and shifted to his fragile man-shape. His deep brown eyes looked fathomless. “It is possible,” he finally said. “Not likely, but possible.“
Alvarr took a deep gulp of air. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath. “R-really?“
“Not likely,“ the Elder stressed. “I will need to examine you.”
Elder Pastor motioned for the mage to lie down on the cave. As Alvarr did, he noticed something in a dark corner. He has one of those leaf-bundles from the ancient camp. A mix of desire and fear stirred in his stomach, but the mage tried to caution himself against thinking anything. Just because Elder Pastor is also studying does not mean the knowledge we need is inside those leaves. It could be about seasons, or more stories of different ancient people.
He settled himself on the rock, wincing as the cold surface touched his legs and back. At least he did not feel sick to his stomach; he hoped that would not happen again.
Elder Pastor knelt next to him and put his hand over Alvarr's heart, not touching, but hovering just above the surface of his chest.
The mage shivered. The old man's palm gave no warmth.
“Just relax, young mage. No harm will come to you,“ Elder Pastor said.
A tiny, controlled wisp of power stole into Alvarr's own energy. It drifted through his body like mist swirling in a breeze, spreading from his chest to his toes in one direction, and the crown of his head in the other.
There was never a question of Alvarr’s safety; the mage knew he was in the best possible hands. But it was very odd.
The Elder touched his forehead, lingering in the spot his horn would be in four-legged shape. He pressed lightly over his heart, and then, his stomach. For a long moment, he knelt by the mage’s side, brow slightly furrowed. And then, he sat back and grasped Alvarr's wrist.
Alvarr let himself be pulled to a sitting position and folded his legs.
Elder Pastor frowned. “Mastok was indeed correct. It seems you will have a foal.”
”But how is that possible?” Alvarr burst out. Not Elder Pastor as well!
”I have felt the beginnings of life inside you,” Elder Pastor said.
Alvarr covered his middle with his hands. I am not a mare. I have nowhere that will hold a foal. ”I cannot feel it, Elder. Wouldn't I know?”
”Perhaps it is too early.” The ancient man shrugged. ”We are stallions, all. We know nothing of children.”
He breathed deeply, trying to let himself believe the impossible. My mother would be the only one to know. Alvarr tried to imagine Mare-Mother Quirina, but realized he had forgotten her face.
Alvarr drew his knees up to his chest, instinctively protecting the promise of life inside him. A foal. If the Elders were correct, he was going to have a foal, somehow.
And if it’s a filly, a baby girl, she will not forget me, because no one will take her away.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Tribe's Distress
ALVARR LEFT THE cave and walked toward Elder Sevan. While he’d been inside, a layer of clouds had formed, turning the sky a dim gray. He was glad to shift back to four-legs; it was now too cold to remain in man-shape outside of dwellings or the healing tent.
Elder Sevan asked him no questions as they started walking together toward the camp, and Alvarr was glad of it. The remaining conversation with Elder Pastor had left more questions than answers. How will it be delivered from me? Will my magic recover once it is born? Would he even live after his foal's birth?
He looked the same, but he did not feel the same. He hadn’t, not since just after he had left on his journey. Elder Pastor had guessed that all Alvarr's magic was being used to grow the foal. It made sense; as a stallion, he would not be able to bear life if he weren’t a mage.
He walked slowly toward the camp, in no hurry to experience the sickness that was sure to come upon him as he got closer. Alvarr turned to look at the cave, but it had vanished into the side of the mountain.
Elder Sevan grunted and tipped his head up toward the gray sky. The first few flakes of snow drifted down. Alvarr knew what he was thinking: winter had arrived, and the tribe was already too thin. There was no hope of any food growing.
Foal or not, I must find a way to help. Alvarr would not see anyone suffer if it was in his power to stop. When they approached the camp, the snow lay the ground in a thin layer of white that covered the brown, close-bitten grass. Elder Pastor had cautioned him not to forage like the others and risk using more energy than he gained. But I will have to, if I can't access my power to grow food for myself.
He tested his energy, sending it out to Nature to ask for some grass. His heart was not in it, though, and only a few weak blades of grass started emerging through the frost around their hooves. They were sluggish and pale, more yellow than green. At least it is something.
Alvarr couldn’t make himself eat them. Instead, he was alarmed at the weakness of his spirit. If that was the best he could do, he and his foal would surely starve and eventually die.
Elder Sevan stopped to smell them. “That the best you can do, earth mage?“ he said, looking up at Alvarr with a stern gaze.
Alvarr shut his eyes and concentrated. More tips appeared, pushing their way up through the frosted earth. The grass was thin, but enough to graze.
“I suppose that's better.“ Elder Sevan took a bite, but it seemed more out of curiosity than hunger. He, too, was in better health than most of them. “Eat,“ the sand-colored stallion commanded. “I don't know much about magic, but your power doesn't come for free, does it?“
The Elder was right, and Alvarr bit off the few mouthfuls. The grass tasted bitter, and the frost had alrea
dy gotten to it, but at least it was fresh.
Elder Pastor had also asked him something, just before he had left. He was grateful for Elder Sevan's silence, for Alvarr could think about it without worrying about being questioned.
Young mage, the old man had said, his fathomless eyes worried, though it is not our people’s way, the sire… of your foal. Do you know who it is?
When Alvarr had nodded, the Elder had encouraged him to let “the sire” know. But the mage knew all too well that he would not say a word. Laren did not want a mate. He probably did not want a foal, either.
He took a few steps to shake off the emotion, but made himself eat for the sake of his foal. It only makes sense, he told himself fiercely. Laren was desperately worried about the survival of the tribe. He did not need an additional worry. And what can the leader do about a foal? It wasn’t as though Laren was a mare who knew about birthing. What I will do when I start becoming round, I do not know. Perhaps I can tell the leader then. But he could just see the shock and disgust on Laren's face, and doubt that he would have enough courage crept into his heart.
Alvarr raised his head and tossed his reddish-brown mane. He should trust in Nature. His faith had not steered him wrong; it had already taken him well beyond a normal stallion’s life. Somehow, he was still alive and strong.
His horn started to glow. Startled, Alvarr realized he had forgotten about it. More grass grew around his feet, greener, stronger, and sweeter. It wasn’t the lush crop that had sprung all around him during the autumn, but he could feel the strength moving through him as he ate it. Elder Sevan had started to graze as well.
“That's more like it,“ the older stallion grunted.
They finished the patch of grass. It would be enough to sustain them for a while, but what about the foal? How much energy did a foal take, and one that was magical? There was no way to know.
He picked his head up. They were close to the camp, he realized. “I don't feel sick,“ he told the Elder. “I usually do, but we walked right into our territory, and nothing happened.“