Of Seekers and Shepherds: Children of the Younger God, Book One

by G. H. Duval

  OF SEEKERS AND SHEPHERDS

  Children of the Younger God: Book One

  G. H. Duval

  Kindle Direct Publishing

  Copyright © 2021 G. H. Duval

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 978-1724171986

  ISBN-10: 1724171984

  Cover design by: Ajani Pratt / Artstation.com/artist/ivx

  Printed in the United States of America

  To my husband, the "real" Shavare. You know what you did.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  COERDOM

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  SNEAK PEEK

  About The Author

  Books In This Series

  COERDOM

  One

  “Seek not Glory, for true greatness springs from deepest humility.”

  –Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd

  Spring reveled in the dream—fending off consciousness for as long as possible—as she surrendered fully to the growing magic within her. Here, in this place where no separation existed between her and the Earth Aspect that had chosen her, she floated in a green haze—prone and held aloft by a softly undulating wave of power that carried her along. It took her nowhere, yet she was everywhere. She was rooted to the wave: a ribbon of moss-colored power, a tendril of pulsing persistence. But even rooted thus, she expanded and filled, a vessel of potential waiting to be tapped.

  It was the power to create, to grow, to reach and soar into the heavens. It was the power of birth. It was the power of death. It was the glory of all that spanned between. And it was hers.

  She twisted and felt her body spin, the ribbon twirling about her but keeping her suspended, nonetheless. She smiled, knowing her Aspect would always cradle her so, protecting her even as it pulled at her to merge with its power and its desires. As her body had matured, crossing the hazy line from girlhood to womanhood, so had the power of the Earth Aspect within her, and it became increasingly difficult to resist its promises…its demands.

  The ribbon tightened around her waist in a squeeze of affection before loosening. Spring settled more firmly within her body, her physical limitations returning, as her Aspect withdrew from her.

  The warmth comes, said a voice in her mind as the dreaming communion with her Aspect receded and her eyes fluttered open. Her eyes came to rest on the small kissing plant at her bedroom window, so named due to the random bursts of red blossoms that resembled, if one glanced quickly, a set of full red lips.

  Spring yawned, stretching as she sat up in her bed, and murmured, “Thank you, Bessie.” For it was this sweet little plant who had awakened her in time—yet another of the advantages of her affinity on which she was quickly becoming reliant—as Spring needed to get moving before dawn. Tahnia—her Master and the town’s only Steading-educated healer—relied on Spring to help her open the apothecary’s shop.

  Spring moved quickly through her morning routine, but she was as quiet as she was efficient for fear of waking her sister, Mina, with whom she shared a room. Mina was well into her twelfth year, but she was often mistaken by strangers for a girl several years younger, as Mina was tiny, and, more often than not, weak and fatigued. No one had been able to name her affliction. And though it was uncommon for the gift of an affinity to run along familial lines, when Lena and Jasper au Terre had borne two children who followed in sharing the blessing of an Aspect, they had all assumed Mina would as well. But she failed to exhibit an affinity of any kind. Worse, she suffered powerful, unpredictable fits, and Spring was convinced that they came more often when Mina lacked proper sleep. This morning, Mina snored softly, and Spring indulged in an extra moment to drink in the sight of her sister, sleeping peacefully.

  Spring gathered her cloak and the small box of ingredients she had harvested from her garden for Tahnia’s tinctures and ointments. She had used her Aspect to prepare them the evening before, allowing the power to flow through her as she welcomed the presence of the plant life into her mind and deciphered how they could best be used. She was looking forward to sharing her work and learning if there was anything she could have done differently. She left the room, pulling the door softly, and prayed that Mina’s peace would keep.

  Spring went downstairs, saw the tea kettle had already been set above a hearty fire, and found her mother and older brother in the kitchen. She assumed her father had already left for his smithy up town. They were a family of early risers—Mina the only member of their small tribe to be allowed the indulgence of sleep past dawn.

  She joined Brandin at the table, murmuring a sleepy greeting, while her mother nodded and left the room. Spring spooned tea leaves into the cup that had been placed at the table in anticipation of her arrival and glanced at Brandin, who was yawning extravagantly.

  “Late night?” she asked, with a hint of jibe in her voice. She knew he’d been out the evening before with Corrine—the latest in a series of girls intent on getting Brandin to settle down. Two years past his Declaration, and though he’d claimed his Aspect’s name and calling, he’d put off reporting to Coer for formal training and assignment while simultaneously avoiding accepting full responsibility for his affinity. The situation could not endure much longer, and it was certainly time for Brandin to get serious about his life. He couldn’t keep working with their Mother and making frilly bits of jewelry forever. She had always assumed he would join her father at the smithy once he came of age, particularly since he was au Feur. But Spring simply could not fathom a version of her irascible brother—full of all the impulsiveness and mischief common to his affinity—being anything but the playful oaf he was.

  “Not all that late,” he grumbled. “It’s the getting up too early that’s the problem.” He grinned at her, his eyes still emanating a soft orange glow in place of their usual green, and she realized that the fire in the hearth had come from him. It was a small act for a Shepherd of his age and talent. But she understood why he continued to channel his Aspect; it was comforting and a relatively safe way to yield to the call of his Aspect.

  “Best not let mum see you,” she whispered, pointing at his eyes. Though she was a Shepherd, herself, their mother was forever cautioning them about “languishing” within their Aspects for fear they would become too comfortable and perhaps slip in front of their non-Shepherd neighbors. “A Shepherd must not flaunt her abilities,” her mother would intone, always couching her warnings within scripture and the call to serve others with their gifts. But Spring understood her mother’s words differently now. She’d completed her niche studies a year ago and moved into her
apprentice’s role; so she had read enough scripture and spent enough time around those different from her to know the truth. What her mother was actually teaching them was that their neighbors feared them, even when Spring’s affinity allowed her to treat the sick and save failing crops. Above all, Shepherds should not act in ways that could escalate that inherent fear, which always hovered just below the surface of their flock.

  Her mother rejoined them and settled at the table, pouring hot water into each of their mugs, and setting their simple meal on the table.

  “Is Mina about yet?” her mother asked.

  “No, thank Hirute in all His names,” Spring breathed. “Sleeping deeply as I left.” She smiled and held her mother’s eyes. It was they—the two women in the family—who truly understood how very ill Mina was. Her father and Brandin simply could not face it, and they hid behind pat explanations and infuriating optimism. But in her mother, Spring had an ally in the fight to hold Mina together. Spring was studying with Tahnia so that she, too, could become a healer. A proper one—not just an herbalist or forest-wife, like the many who abounded in villages like Hayden’s Corner. Tahnia assured Spring that her connection to their shared Aspect was exceptional, and that with a few years more training, she would outstrip even Tahnia’s abilities. Already, she was finding that she could harness her Aspect to help shorten Mina’s fits. Hopefully, soon, she would cure her sister of the ailment once and for all.

  Her mother nodded, relieved. “Go on,” she insisted, as Spring finished her last bite and began clearing her dishes. “Leave that for me. My best to Tahnia.”

  Spring bent to give her mother a parting peck on the cheek. She waved to Brandin, who was slathering cheese on his third piece of toast, and whose eyes had returned to normal; he absently waved back without really looking at her.

  She moved through the shop attached to the front of their home—where her mother and Brandin sold the jewelry they created—and stepped out onto the cobblestone street on which they lived. The street was bordered closely on either side with stacked, white-washed buildings just like her own home, and normally felt cramped and close. At this hour of the day, however, it was nearly desolate, and she pulled her cloak more tightly around her. The morning was crisp but dry, and the clear sky promised a beautiful day ahead. Several of her fellow townsfolk were as intrepid as she and were already seeing to their work.

  Stalls were opened, strings of garlic hung, bags of onions laid out across tables, baskets of pears and fall apples hefted about. Carrots, turnips, and potatoes were caught up in mesh wrappings and arranged to catch the light that would soon be dawning. The scent of rolls rising from the nearby bakery wafted over, searing meat for pasties on its heels. Spring took a deep breath and savored the aromas, pure and strong across the nearly empty streets, before the press of people would arrive to ruin it.

  It didn’t take long to reach the shop. Tahnia had deliberately chosen to setup inside the town proper, rather than climb to the reaches of Loring Hill. Though this meant forgoing access to the more affluent citizens of Hayden’s Corner, Tahnia positioned herself closer to those like Spring and her ilk—those who needed the most aid and were often least able to receive it. Spring respected Tahnia’s decision and especially appreciated it as, despite her father’s smithy in the area, Spring dreaded going to Loring Hill. As modest a town as it was, Hayden’s Corner had the same separations, petty and legitimate alike, as more cosmopolitan locales. Most of the residents were grounded and absent of what her mother called “airs,” but even Hayden’s had exceptions. A few dozen families boasted ties to well-connected bureaucrats in Coer, and an even smaller group had a legitimate blood tie to aristocrats at court. They were the ones who truly ruled Loring Hill and, by extension, the entire town.

  Unsurprisingly, Spring often found these people to be unpleasant and was reluctant to deal with them. As Brandin happily volunteered to run errands for their mum between the two locations, she rarely had to bother. But there was one notable exception: Jayden Hevlin. Jayden was one of the few truly noble-born in Hayden’s, and he had, for reasons that still escaped her, decided to pursue Spring with a single-mindedness that left her swooning. And so she’d had to challenge her nerves and learn to cope with moving about aristocratic circles.

  But Tahnia’s shop was her sanctuary, a place where Spring was fully at rest. She need not keep an ear open for Mina’s cries, nor remember the esoteric ways of nobles, nor hide her abilities. Once inside the shop, she was simply an apothecary-in-training, and her au Terre talents were expected to be on display and even appreciated.

  “Master Shepherd Tahnia!” she called when she did not find her Master already about as usual. She went to the base of a small staircase that led to Tahnia’s living quarters above the shop and called again. Still, no answer. Must have been sent for, Spring thought, as her Master kept long, odd hours, always ready to dash off to whomever called for her services. Having served as her apprentice for more than a year now, Spring set about the work of opening the shop, knowing her Master entrusted her to do so.

  She hung her cloak, replaced it with a well-worn apron, and dragged a narrow wooden cart to the back room. She stacked the cart with bottles of black honey (for cough), bergamot oil (for cleaning wounds and easing pain), and lavender oil (for inflammation and burns). She smiled as the particulars came to her so easily now. The bottles made a tinkling sound, softly clinking against one another as she moved back to the storefront and refilled the open spaces at the tables spread throughout.

  She retraced her steps and continued until all the tables and the main counter were restocked. She glanced through the window, gauging she had roughly a quarter hour left before the sun would be up and their first customers would begin to arrive. For the few quiet moments remaining, she returned to the back room to busy herself with the seedlings they held in reserve.

  She moved to a row of clay pots with the barest of twigs showing, smiling as most women would at seeing an infant swaddled in its mother’s arms. Gently, she lifted a pot, turning it to inspect the fragile plant; bracing herself, she called her Aspect. As always, the force of her earth affinity flowed into her at once. She grasped the power, clinging to it as it spread from her mind to settle within her limbs and reveled in the goosebumps that followed along her skin as the power moved through her.

  Carefully breaking the soil with a fingertip, she closed her eyes and sifted through the information pouring into her mind. A small wrinkle formed between her brows as he found the soil too low in potassium and calcium. She made a mental note and moved to the next pot. As she worked, her mind drifted, and she fantasized about what a proper horticulture class at the Steading would reveal to her. As Spring’s Declaration day approached, so did the force of Tahnia’s urgings for Spring to Declare for the Firsts and take a seat at the Steading for formal instruction.

  She longed to heed her Master’s advice, longed to be surrounded by her own kind and set free in the use of her Aspect—to learn how to harness her affinity with finesse and connect that ability to the Shepherds around her. She sighed, placing the last of the pots back down and sliding off the apron. A fantasy, indeed, for her mum would hear no talk of the Firsts or the Steading. She moved to the tablet they kept nearby and scratched her findings in chalk beneath the numbers for each pot. She or her Master would see to the plants before the end of the day.

  She tried not to react too strongly to her mother’s aversion for anything officially tied to the government. For, if Spring was truly honest with herself, even she feared leaving Hayden’s behind. How would she measure up against the other Earth Shepherds that came to the Steading? Would she even be special there? And what of Jayden? Did she really expect him to wait for at least two years for her to complete her studies? She could not know the answers and she was afraid to find them. Perhaps her mother was right, and she was best off staying right where she was. She admitted this to herself with a small, sad smile as she flipped the wooden sign hanging on the door to “OP
EN,” and unlatched the entrance.

  While she did not understand the reasons behind her mother’s hesitations, she knew that Jayden was the cause of her own greatest concerns. After a full year of courtship, she still didn’t fully understand Jayden, which she blamed on the gulf between their social stations. Jayden was nobility, and while the aristocracy could never ascend to the throne—as that was reserved by Hirute for the Firsts—families like Jayden’s ruled the nation of Coerdom in every other significant way. It was they who shouldered the responsibility for the very foundation of the nation. They who engaged in commerce, trade, industry, and manufacture. For their fealty, the Firsts repaid these families with a standing army—both martial and bureaucratic—meeting the needs of the nation by providing men and women who were gifted by Hirute and further refined by the exacting instruction of the Steading.

  Thus, Coerdan aristocrats need not beggar themselves to marshal, outfit, feed, and train the soldiers and myriad support systems that made up traditional armies and governments—the Firsts bore that burden wholly. This led to a class of politically powerful, extremely wealthy individuals who were seldom restricted in anything they desired. Perhaps such power and excessive wealth led to differences simply too great to bridge.

  For several months now, Jayden had gently prodded her about her mentorship with Tahnia, wondering what her post-Declaration decision might be. She knew he wondered if she would leave Hayden’s for continued training, but he held back his own ideas of what he wished she would do. She knew that, had he his way, she would simply continue her lessons in Hayden’s—working with Tahnia to hone her Cultivation path within her affinity; she could easily take up a place with Tahnia permanently. Should Spring marry Jayden, it would be unconventional for her to work outside the home; however, her talent as a Shepherd, which is what made their pairing possible by bridging the gap in their social stations, would also excuse her from the full weight of the restrictions carried by high-born women.