I was born to be a Seeker.
Papa looks like he wants to say something else, but we’ve reached the hut and Mama’s probably listening in. I step over the threshold, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. The smell of smoke and porridge is heavy in the small room.
“Bryn,” Mama says, “don’t let your breakfast burn.” She points to the hearth, where the pot of porridge is about to bubble over.
As I save breakfast from the fire, Papa shrugs out of his coat and tells Mama about his conversation with Oskar. He doesn’t mention the competition or our conversation outside, but he doesn’t have to. Mama looks at me anyway. She knows what I want.
I’ve been dreaming about being a Seeker ever since I was old enough to understand Papa’s stories. He’d come home with pockets full of starflowers and dragon scales and tell me about flights up the mountains and over the oceans, about nursing wounded icefoxes or gyrpuffs back to health, about tracking unicorns and flying on dragons and countless other adventures.
All that stopped two years ago, when Papa hurt his leg. Since then, there have been no more stories and no more starflowers. I always knew I wanted to be a Seeker, but now I have to do it. Someone has to bring the starflowers back.
Mama retrieves four bowls from the drying rack and lines them up on the table. “Serve breakfast while I fetch Elisa,” she says to me. Papa crosses the room, his boots thudding against the earth, and hangs his coat by the fire as Mama ducks under the clothesline dividing the kitchen from the sleeping areas.
I ladle four bowls of porridge and set the table for breakfast, sliding into my seat at Papa’s right. A minute later Mama and Elisa emerge from the bedroom. Elisa’s breathing is raspier now than it was earlier. She had another coughing fit last night, a bad one. Mama’s been trying to use the last of our medicine sparingly, but she was forced to break out more starflower paste to ease my sister’s breathing.
Elisa slides into the chair across from me, already chattering excitedly to Papa. He smiles and laughs with her, hiding the worry in his eyes. Maybe he’s wondering what I’m wondering—how much starflower medicine we have left and what we’ll do when we run out.
Back when Papa was a Seeker, we never worried about it. Mama would serve Elisa tea steeped in starflower leaves every morning to keep the coughs away, and she’d grind the petals into a thick paste, which we’d carry in little jars at all times in case of a fit. Elisa’s had trouble with her lungs since she was born, but I never thought about it as a real problem before. The starflowers don’t cure the coughs completely or fix her lungs forever, but the medicine helps her breathe when the fits get bad. Our supply seemed endless, until Papa got hurt and the starflowers stopped coming. Now there’s no more tea, and our supply of paste is dwindling.
It’s up to me to become a Seeker just like Papa did, so we can have starflowers again.
As Mama and Papa chat with Elisa, I let my mind drift to thoughts of the competition. There hasn’t been one since Papa got hurt two years ago, and I wasn’t old enough then to compete. I watched the finals just like everyone else in the village, but I wasn’t allowed to see any of the training beforehand. I’m not sure what it will be like or how hard it will be. I share Papa’s nature gift, and that’s got to count for something. But the gift alone isn’t enough. I have to be skilled in all areas of magic to win.
But I’m Seeker Jakob’s daughter. If anyone can be a Seeker, it’s me.
I’ve known it since I was five, when I first discovered my gift. Some kids find theirs even earlier, so I was a little worried that mine would never come. But then it happened.
Runa and I were playing on her family’s farm when her sheepdog started barking at the edge of the trees. We followed him into the woods and heard a strange sound. It was a high-pitched whine, like a dog, and we eventually found the clump of bushes it was coming from. Runa was scared to investigate, but I stepped slowly toward the bush and peered between the leaves, only to see a pair of big brown eyes staring back at me. It was a little sea-wolf cub, all alone.
I had never seen a sea wolf before, since they were supposed to live in the Wild Realm, but I knew what it was. I’d seen Papa’s drawings of sea wolves in his sketchbook. They’re typically smaller than regular wolves, and they have reddish-brown fur instead of gray. This little one was small even for a cub, so small I probably could’ve lifted it with one hand, and its fur was definitely brown. Energy radiated from it, like nothing I’d ever felt before. Its life spark was so bright, so intense, that I knew this creature was magical.
“Why’s it all alone?” Runa asked. “Do you think it’s abandoned?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “We should tell my papa. He’ll know what to do.”
“But if we leave, how will we find him again?” Runa asked.
With more confidence than I felt, I said, “I’ll find him again. I can feel him.”
So we ran to fetch Papa and brought him back to the woods. As I’d suspected, Papa was very concerned about the sea-wolf cub being all alone and so far from his home in the Realm. But, as Runa had predicted, it was hard to find the exact place where we’d seen the cub. I closed my eyes and focused as hard as I could, trying to sense the energy I’d felt before. And to my surprise, I did sense something. Faint at first and then stronger. I directed Papa and Runa to it, and after a moment Papa smiled. He could sense it too, but he pretended not to and let me lead the way.
In the end I led Papa straight to the bush where the cub was hiding with my eyes closed.
“Bryn,” Papa said softly, “look.”
I opened my eyes. Green light was dancing along my hands. The color of my magic.
“I think we’ve found your gift,” Papa said. His smile was huge. “A nature gift, just like mine. And a strong one at that. You were right about this cub.”
The green light of Papa’s own gift swirled in the air as he used his magic to reach out to the cub, letting it sense his presence and know that we didn’t mean it any harm.
“What are you doing so far from home, little fella?” Papa said to it. “You must be lost.”
“How could it have left the Realm?” I asked him.
“Sea wolves prefer the ocean to land,” he said. “They’ll stay on shore only to sleep, care for their young, or nurse an injury. The packs regularly climb down from the Realm to make their way to the sea, where they hunt for seafood. They can swim incredible distances and hold their breath underwater for hours, you know. This little one probably wandered off while the pack was in transit, and now he’s lost. He shouldn’t be this far south.”
After a moment Papa reached into the bush and carefully lifted the cub out, wrapping it firmly in his coat. “Never do this without training, girls,” he said to me and Runa. “Sea wolves can bite and claw you if they feel threatened.”
“Are you taking him back to the Realm?” I asked.
“Yes,” Papa said. “The other Seekers will help me find his home. Sea wolves are very loyal to members of their packs—I’m sure this little one’s packmates will be looking for him.”
I watched the wolf cub as he peeped out of Papa’s coat, staring at me. He was so cute, with tufted fur and puppy-dog eyes. My gift mixed with the cub’s own energy, filling the air with magic. I’d never felt such a powerful connection as I did in that moment.
“Can I go with you?” I asked Papa as we walked out of the woods. “I want to see the cub find his pack.”
“I’m sorry, Bryn,” Papa said. “But you know the rules. Only Seekers can go into the Realm.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because,” Papa said gently, “the Realm belongs to the magical creatures who live there, not to us. If too many people tried to travel there and take the magic of the Realm for themselves, it could ruin the land forever.”
“But I’m just one person,” I said, “and I’d be there for a minute.”
“I know,” Papa said gently, “but we all follow the rules. If I let you come into the Realm once, then y
ou’ll just want to come back again and again. And what about Runa? She found the cub too, so it wouldn’t be fair not to bring her along. And if I bring guests into the Realm, then it would only be fair to let the other Seekers do that too.… Do you see? If we start making exceptions, then the rules will have no meaning. This is why everyone agrees that only Seekers may enter the Realm.”
“Okay,” I said, “then make me a Seeker.”
Papa laughed. “All in good time, Bryn. You have to be at least twelve years old to be a Seeker. And besides, there can only be five at once.”
“Why?”
“Five is nature’s number—the number of the five gifts. Long ago, when our people first settled in this village, it was believed that five was the proper number to maintain balance within the Realm, and so they appointed five Seekers, one with each of the five gifts.”
“But we don’t do that anymore. You have a nature gift, and so does Seeker Oskar. That’s two Seekers with the same gift, not one of each.”
“That’s true,” Papa says. “Some of the gifts are rarer than others, so we don’t always have each of the five gifts represented at the same time. But there have always been five Seekers, and we always follow that tradition.”
“Well, it’s a dumb tradition,” I said.
The sea-wolf cub made a little whimpering sound, and Papa gently stroked its back to soothe it. “Don’t worry,” he said to me. “With such a strong nature gift, you’ll be a Seeker in no time.”
I believed him then, and I believe him now. Ever since that day, becoming a Seeker is all I’ve ever wanted. And I know, deep down in my heart, that I was meant to do it. I connected with that little sea-wolf cub so easily, so naturally, and it was the best connection I’ve ever felt.
There’s just one teeny-tiny problem with my becoming a Seeker, the part of our tradition that Papa didn’t tell me that day in the woods, but that I soon figured out.
Only boys have ever been Seekers.
What I didn’t really understand when I was five is that the men in our village do most of the jobs—they are the fishermen and the shopkeepers and the blacksmiths and the doctors. Some people in our village say that it’s because men have stronger magic and are better suited to jobs that are considered harder, while women’s magic is supposedly better suited to household work. But that doesn’t make any sense to me. I mean, I’ve met most of the boys in the village, and there’s no way their magic is stronger than mine. I think the real reason is just that it’s always been this way and people don’t know how else to do it.
But some traditions are in need of changing. Besides, once people in the village see what my magic can do, they’ll know what I know—that nobody’s going to make a better Seeker than me.
THREE
I wake early the next morning, filled with anticipation. They’ll probably announce the Seeker competition today.
“Wild child,” Mama says with a sigh, swatting me away from the stove, “take all that energy outside.”
Grateful for the escape, I leave the breakfast dishes on the table and dash out to the garden. Clouds roll in over the horizon, promising another summer rain. I rush down the path, heading into the center of the village.
I stop in the middle of the main square, where a massive old birch tree marks the very center of town. This is the place where the announcement will be made.
I’m not the only one who’s waiting. Johann and his little brother, Aron, dart in and out of the square, pelting each other with bilberries. They both work as village criers, so they’re likely waiting for the news.
I’m not thrilled to see them. I tried to be a crier too, once, but the villagers always listened to the boys and didn’t take me seriously. I might’ve kept at it anyway, but Mama made me stop, since she didn’t approve of me “running wild around town,” as she put it. Johann and Aron have been smug about it ever since, so I mostly try to avoid them as much as possible.
Another potential competitor lurks across the street, gazing toward the birch tree and shielding his eyes from the sun. Tomas is fourteen, the perfect age to audition. The minimum is twelve, since most people’s gifts fully mature around that age. It’s technically open to anyone older than that, but most boys in the village start working full-time by fifteen or sixteen, and then they usually can’t abandon their jobs for several weeks in order to train for the competition. Tomas will likely be one of the oldest competitors, which could be an advantage for him. And he’s one of the best young healers in the village, not to mention Seeker Freyr’s son. There’s no way he won’t compete.
I lean against the tree and settle in, but I don’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, a Seeker makes his way up the path toward the square, his long, forest-green cloak sweeping the ground. It’s Seeker Larus, who will be the oldest Seeker once Oskar retires and therefore the new head of the council.
Johann and Aron suddenly drop to attention, abandoning their berries and moving closer to the tree. Tomas crosses the street to join us.
“Move, Bryn,” he says, brushing past me. “They’re about to announce the Seeker competition, and you’re in the way.”
I grit my teeth. “That’s why I’m here.”
Tomas’s eyebrows draw up. “So it’s true, then. You really think you’re going to compete?”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because you’re a girl, duh,” says Johann as he draws closer.
“So? I’m a naturalist, and I’m good at it.”
“But girls don’t use magic that much. They don’t even have jobs,” Johann says.
Tomas shakes his head slowly, but before he speaks, his attention is drawn away by the arrival of Seeker Larus.
“I have an announcement,” Seeker Larus says gravely to the brothers. He hands Johann a small vial that glows blue from within. Crushed starflower, as payment for his services. “Make sure everyone in the village hears, all right?”
“Of course,” Johann says, drawing himself up proudly. “What’s the announcement?”
Tomas and I lean in, straining to hear.
“There will be a competition,” Seeker Larus says slowly, “to determine our next Seeker.”
He pauses, and the boys nod eagerly for him to continue. “There will be three rounds of competition. Three trials that must be passed. Each one will be held in the arena; the first will be held one week from today, the second one week after that, and so on. Some competitors will be eliminated after each of the first two trials, while the final will determine our next Seeker. To prepare potential Seekers for the competition, Seeker Agnar will hold training sessions every afternoon in the arena. Anyone who wishes to compete is strongly encouraged to attend the training. The first session will be held today.”
He smiles down at the boys, who grin back. “Spread the word.”
The brothers take off, running through the square and shouting the news. Passing villagers stop to listen, and shopkeepers emerge from indoors to see what all the fuss is about.
I glance over at Tomas, who nods at me. “Guess I’ll see you at training, then,” he says.
“Guess so.”
He nods again and strides away.
I take a deep breath and break into a sprint.
One of the village women yells at me as I pass—probably telling me to stop running—but the wind rushing past my ears whips her words away.
I arrive at our hut in record time, leaping over the garden gate and dashing up the path. Papa looks up from the bed of potatoes, squinting into the sun. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asks, but he’s smiling. He already knows why I’m running.
“They announced the competition,” I shout, throwing open the hut’s door and dashing inside.
Elisa sits at the table, braiding her doll’s hair. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
I pause to catch my breath. “I have news!”
“What news?”
Mama emerges from the sleeping area, carrying an armful of laundry. “Bryn,” she says s
harply, “have you been running?”
I inhale deeply, trying to steady my breathing. “No.”
“Are you lying to your mother?”
I pause. “Yes.”
“Brynja,” she scolds, “how many times—”
“They announced the Seeker competition!”
Mama doesn’t react right away. She lowers the pile of laundry into the nearest chair.
“The first training session is this afternoon in the arena,” I say quickly when Mama doesn’t speak. “Can I go? Pretty please can I go?”
Elisa sets down her doll, her eyes darting back and forth between Mama and me.
“I don’t suppose there’s any dissuading you,” Mama says finally. “Dissuading” is the word she uses when she really means telling me not to do something. She “dissuades” a lot.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” I give Mama a hug. Elisa laughs, and I dance around the tiny kitchen.
“Does this mean you’re going to be a Seeker, Bryn?” Elisa asks.
“I have to win the competition first.”
“Of course you’ll win,” Elisa says. “Will you get to ride the dragons like Papa did?”
“Yep! I’ll get to fly them into the Realm and—”
Elisa frowns. “But then you’ll go away all the time and we’ll never play anymore.”
“Sure we will,” I say. “We can play dolls every night if you want. Just not while I’m at training.”
Elisa pushes her doll pointedly in my direction. “You’re not at training now.”
I sigh, dropping into the chair beside her. “Okay, we can play now. But then I have to go to training. I can’t be late on the first day.”
Mama purses her lips and doesn’t say anything. She crosses the room and steps out the front door. Going to talk to Papa, probably.
As I help Elisa braid her doll’s hair, I glance out the window. My parents’ shadows are visible in the garden, but I can’t hear what they’re saying.
Whatever it is, Mama isn’t happy about it when she comes back inside. She strides toward the bedroom without saying anything, disappearing behind the clothesline.
Seekers of the Wild Realm Page 2