by G. H. Duval
The next thing Mina knew, she’d been caught up in Spring’s arms, and she buried her face into her sister’s neck. She regretted the tears that fell onto her sister, but she felt Spring’s trembling and thought Spring would forgive her, or perhaps pretend it hadn’t happened at all.
“Lena, we are all friends here,” it was the voice of the grey-robed man again. “You need not fear-”
“Get out of my mind, Jeyson!” her mother nearly screamed. “You cannot have her. I will not give you my daughter!” Her mother’s voice was full of fear, but was also cold as ice. Rock solid and not to be moved.
None of what had just happened made sense to Mina, but she recognized her mother’s fear. None of the strangers had seemed threatening to Mina. The woman was beautiful, and her voice had been soft. The blonde man had nearly been Brandin’s twin, and the grey-robed man’s voice was kind.
“You will not have her,” her mother continued. “You people took my mother, but you will not have my daughter. Do you hear me?” Her mother pushed an emotion Mina couldn’t understand.
“Lena,” it was a voice she had not yet heard, so it must have been the blonde man. “Get a hold of yourself. Please,” he begged. “Get a hold, so we can talk. Like friends. Otherwise…”
“And there it is!” Her mother declared. “The threats begin. Do you think I’m a fool, Preon? Because I chose to leave your precious Coer and your precious Service? I know what Rangers are truly about. What you’re all really looking for. And you won’t have her. You won’t have my Mina, or any of my children for that matter. I want you all to leave. NOW.”
“You know that we cannot,” said the man called Preon. “I’m so sorry, Lena.”
The voices were getting harder to hear as Spring took her into the house and away from the shop. Her head was already swelling with all the pushing she was feeling, so she didn’t even attempt to keep listening. The entire ordeal seemed to be about her. Mina sucked in a trembling breath to fight back the choking sobs she could feel rising.
It was always her fault.
Ten
“Those who seek only the destination in their travels shall never fully arrive.”
–Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd
“Spring? Are you listening?”
Spring startled at the sound of her name and tore her eyes from the sight of her mother, who was riding—withdrawn and defeated—between Preon’s Spirit Shepherds. Gabe and Ella—the twins who were not much older than Spring yet had snowy white hair and marble-black eyes—were only two of the Shepherds she had come to know when the remainder of Preon’s Crimson Complement had been summoned to ‘escort’ Mina, Spring, and her parents to Coer.
Jeyson had been true to his word, protecting Spring’s family even as he took them into custody. She knew that he would have been well within his rights to slap governing bands on the lot of them and toss them into the cells below the Accord for their insubordination to the Firsts. Instead, he had quietly secured her family, personally, with only Preon and Myrra at his back. Thankfully, her parents had quickly complied without argument or fuss, accepting that Mina’s secret could no longer be hidden, and Spring had been doubly relieved to learn that her father, Jasper, had been as surprised at Mina’s true condition as Spring, herself.
Unfortunately, as Spring had feared, the same could not be said of Lena au Terre. Her mother had risked their entire family’s future, and Mina’s very sanity, out of what was, to Spring, and inexplicable loathing for the Firsts. Both her parents had been Steading educated and had chosen to resign from formal service at the completion of their studies. She grasped for any explanation, telling herself that they knew the Firsts far better than she ever could, and that some logic must be involved in Lena’s seeming lunacy. But these attempts to understand much less forgive her mother fell flat. The truth—unvarnished and irrefutable—was that Lena had betrayed them all.
But Jeyson had searched Lena, and whatever he had seen in her mind and heart had persuaded him to show them mercy; he’d left Brandin to see after the shop and had the remainder of their family confined to House Hevlin—where Jayden and his mother took every pain to make them feel like honored guests rather than the prisoners they really were. During the five days they lived in Jayden’s luxurious home, Spring had avoided her mother at all costs—unable and unwilling to hear anything Lena might have to say in her defense. It had proved easy to do as Lena—sensing both Spring’s mood and Jasper’s bewildered rage—had wisely kept to her assigned room and did not even venture out for meals, taking what meager nourishment she accepted in private.
When the remainder of Preon’s unit had finally arrived to relieve them all from the strained living arrangements, Spring clung to the distraction of the four new Shepherds. She peppered them with questions of the Steading and pulled story after story from the experienced military men and women suddenly at her disposal. To Spring’s mind, the most interesting of the new arrivals by far was the Complement’s au Terre, Jate—who was regarding her now with a worried expression.
“Spring?” he repeated, and she met his eyes, which were shining with a soft green glow. A tentative touch on her Aspect told her just how concerned he really was, and she forced her troubles from her mind. She smiled as reassuringly as she could, and his eyes returned to their normal honeyed brown as he released his Aspect.
He was a remarkable man of impressive build with a smooth, almost cinnamon complexion. He spoke Coerdan like a native, so she was hard-pressed to identify his heritage, and his shimmering dark skin remained a mystery. She was drawn to him, to the force of his affinity—as if the Earth itself seeped from his pores—and to Spring’s Aspect-touched eyes, she could scarcely determine where Jate ended and the Earth began. He had agreed to play tutor for Spring as they traveled to Coer, and his demonstrations with their shared Aspect—what she learned was possible—was nothing short of thrilling.
“I am fine, Master Jate,” she said, warming to his company, even while her body trembled slightly from the morning’s ill weather. “I’ve a great deal on my mind, as you can imagine. But, I promise, you’ve my full attention now.”
He regarded her for a moment longer, then nodded. As he had each day prior, he took her through a series of breathing exercises. At first, Spring had protested, baffled by what seemed an unnecessary waste of time; she had long mastered connecting her mind to her Aspect. Jate had been intractable on the topic, however, and he argued that it was the very ease with which she wielded her affinity that worried him most. And no matter how much she wanted to persuade him that his fears were unfounded, she dared not. Deep down, she knew there was much more within her, straining for release. It pulled at her—and frightened her.
Spring obediently slowed her breathing to a whisper and calmed her mind. There was no predetermined amount of time she was to do this. Nor could she fully understand the precise quality Jate sought in her that would signal the beginning of their lesson, so she schooled herself to patience. This morning proved no different than the others. Spring simply kept her cloak pulled tightly to ward off the wet and chill while repeating one slow, deliberate breath after another.
Mercifully, that elusive quality so important to Jate eventually surfaced, and she felt his affinity mingle with hers while keeping his presence—his mind—separate. She watched him exert his will on the Aspect they shared, bemused by the way the Earth rushed to him eagerly. Finally, Jate signaled her to join him.
She concentrated, fighting her old instincts in how she drew the Earth to her. Normally, she would simply open her mind and beckon to her Aspect. But Jate was teaching her to be more subtle—wooing instead of insisting. Already chilled and well on her way to being soaked, she trembled noticeably with the effort. For Spring, this method was akin to pouring a river into a lake via a funnel. She doubted she’d marshal the restraint needed if Jate were not quietly keeping their Aspect in check.
After several painstaking minutes, she had the “funnel” in place, an
d she eased herself open to her Aspect. Softly, her Aspect flowed to her, singing its pleasure of joining into her bones. Her body warmed suddenly, and the morning’s soft drizzle became just another part of her domain—the water welcome and refreshing. Spring took a deep breath, held it, and savored the aromas in the air. The Earth was teaching her to experience the world as it did. With enough practice, she would learn to sort through those scents and identify where each current had been and what it brought with it.
She shifted her focus and felt the trees around her absorb the moisture from the air, felt the water run down their trunks, felt it seep through the soil to their roots. She felt the insects scurrying in the soil beneath the road, peeking through cracks, shifting the soil in minute ways. She felt the birds burrowing into their nests in the branches above her head, short bursts of chirps and calls filling the air between them—their language tantalizingly close to her realm of understanding.
When she finally surfaced from her reverie, she looked at Jate helplessly; even if she could muster words to express what she experienced, they would prove superfluous. Jate understood what she was learning. He nodded in a satisfied way, indicating that the lesson was complete for now.
She released her Aspect, moving a pace from Jate and signaling Jayden to let him know her lesson was complete. He made his way to her and was just about to speak when Dodge sidled up along her opposite side. Jayden’s mouth turned down ever so slightly and his mouth snapped shut.
Dodge was Spring’s first and best friend. His parents were also Steading-trained Shepherds who had departed with Spring’s parents, choosing a simple life of farming—made entirely more palatable by their Water and Earth Aspects—and she and Dodge had grown up together as a result. Dodge was a year younger than Spring, but he’d expressed the same year she had. In a turn she could not have foreseen, but for which she was doubly grateful at a time like this, Dodge had come to join them at House Hevlin. Apparently, Dodge had suffered ‘an episode’ with his growing affinity that left Jeyson with two choices: send the boy to the Steading early or apply a governing band. So long as Dodge did not venture out from their lodgings, he need not be banded.
Now, Dodge rode next to her, sitting tall in his saddle, a self-satisfied smile on his lips. She was surprised he’d managed to pull himself away from Myrra, to whom he had been essentially attached since the moment they’d met.
“What are you so pleased about,” she asked him, testily. Both he and Jayden had been behaving strangely over the last few days, and, in her current state of near constant worry for her the fate of her family, she was at the end of her patience.
“How can you ask that?” Dodge demanded, eyes wide and voice brimming with excitement. “Open your eyes, Spring!” He made a circling motion above their heads.
“We’re out of Hayden’s! Off to Coer, and with a formal escort sent by the First, herself!” He stared at her, incredulous that any explanation was needed. Spring mustered a weak smile, for Dodge had not a clue of the true nature of their ‘escort’.
“We’re finally free of the non-touched and their suspicions,” Dodge persisted. “Free of their fear of what we can…what we might do. Now,” his voice rose as his arm fell down in a sharp, slashing motion. “We can actually be ourselves…our true selves! We’ll be able to channel all we wish, with trained Shepherds to guide us. We’ve not even arrived yet, and already, everything is different.”
He turned to spear her with a steady, piercing look that made her squirm, but she was unable to look away.
“Don’t try to tell me you’re immune, Spring. You might be able to persuade others of that, but you won’t persuade me. I know you too well. This is what we always dreamed about…”
“Is that so?” Jayden interjected, leaning forward in his saddle just enough to meet Dodge’s eyes before turning his attention to Spring.
“That’s your greatest, deepest desire is it? To escape we poor souls who’ve not been touched by God?” His voice did not drip with sarcasm. It oozed it. His eyes were dark with barely suppressed emotion.
“Funny, that,” he said, his voice oddly bemused as he held her eyes, and a knot took hold in her stomach. “In all the hours of conversation we’ve shared, you never mentioned your burning need to be free of the likes of me.”
Before she could respond, he spurred his horse forward, taking up a position just behind Preon, who rode at vanguard. Spring took in the sight of Jayden, shoulders stiff, and heard his wounded words replaying in her mind. She turned on Dodge.
“Did you have to?” she demanded of him.
“What?” His eyes were wide with feigned ignorance. As if what he’d said, hurting Jayden, was all part of a game. “All I did was answer your question.”
“Come off it,” she hissed. “You’ve been needling him since before we left Hayden’s. You know what his uncle did—personally arranging for our travel to Coer—and getting us immediate help for Mina. Not to mention hosting us in his own home! If he hadn’t opened his doors to you, you’d have been banded, for Shepherd’s sake! How can you repay him this way?”
She scowled, trying desperately to cling to anger and hold back the tears she barely held in check from the near-overwhelming events of the last week and the strain of Dodge’s just as constant needling of Jayden.
“How can you be such a child,” she asked, voice nearly breaking, and hastened to catch up to Jayden. Dodge, wisely, watched her go without another word.
She spent the better part of the next hour in an earnest attempt to explain to Jayden what Dodge had meant. Though he’d conveyed it horribly, she had to confess that Dodge had spoken the truth, and she tried to express the complicated duality inherent in bearing an Aspect. Hers was an existence of extremes: of being revered for one’s abilities and being reviled for that very same power. To her amazement, Jayden only nodded, thoughtfully, before speaking.
“You may be surprised to learn, my Spring, that things aren’t so different for me.” He smiled at her, his eyes catching hers, and she found she couldn’t breathe.
“When you’ve a name like ‘Hevlin’ and have one uncle who is the High Duke of a Great House and another uncle who is an Arbiter-Shepherd…well! One word from you can change the course of someone’s life, and you come to occupy one of two roles. You’re the possible answer to all one’s problems, and people seek access to your influence and wealth. Or you’re the unpredictable destructive force that can unmake someone on a whim. Revered or reviled. Yes, that is something I understand.”
“I see,” Spring said softly and reached across to rest a hand on his. “I’ve seen how you use you power, Jayden.” She paused and looked at where her mother rode between Gabe and Ella. Miserable, yes, but still free and unharmed. “We both know how this situation could have been…handled.” She swallowed. “I, for one, trust you completely with that power.”
Jayden turned his hand to grasp hers and squeezed.
“And I trust you with yours, my Spring.”
*
As they made camp that evening, each member of their party set about their assigned task, efficient from having repeated the activity for the last three nights. That evening’s campsite was much like all the others had been. It was set back some ways from the road—more to ensure they would not be disturbed as they rested than out of any real fear of bandits or misconduct. They were in the heart of Coerdom, after all, and traveling the Firsts’ Road to boot. She couldn’t think of anyone desperate or ignorant enough to waylay travelers here.
It was not difficult to find an open space amidst the trees for their camp. Fall was fully underway and all but the hardiest of the broadleaf trees common to this part of Coerdom had withdrawn behind their protective bark. As a result, the leaves had lost their green hue, turning the forest into a multicolored canopy of red, sepia, and gold. More than half of the trees had already begun the shedding process, creating a carpet of color where the leaves fell, layered, over the mossy ground. Spring was particularly drawn to the s
hrubs darting the landscape at their feet, blossoming even as their cousins fell dormant. The blue of azaleas played off the almost frenzied fuchsia of butterfly bushes, which in turn contrasted with the yellow and purple leaves of the cranberry plants. It looked for all the world to Spring like the deft touch of a master painter.
They moved deeper into the forest to secure some privacy, and Jate squatted to place one palm on the ground. Spring was allowed to accompany him—shadowing him through their shared Aspect—and she catalogued the way he guided the Earth to deliver what he wished. In short order, the leaves and moss shifted to reveal clean, damp soil, with a two-foot-round crater where Jate’s palm had rested. He filled the depression with dried twigs and leaves, which Preon promptly set to burning. Unlike normal fires, Preon’s flame would burn as long as he wished it to.
Spring had initially wondered why the kindling was needed for Preon to start the fire at all. Preon had laughed, explaining that pulling enough heat from their surroundings to set off the kindling was much easier than drawing enough heat to create one from nothing, particularly in the fall when so little heat was trapped in the air. Sustaining a fire from that point forward, apparently, was much simpler.
After watching him perform this feat their first evening on the road, Spring understood better what he had tried to explain. For, even with the kindling, Preon had pulled enough heat from the ground that Spring could feel it through her Aspect-bond. Ice crystals had formed in the air and on the ground around Preon as a result, and Lassa—the Complement’s au Leaux—had pulled those crystals to her. She returned the ice to its liquid form, which she deposited into the cookpot that had been set upon the fire. Though Spring was a Shepherd and had been raised in a family of the same, the easy use of one’s Aspect to conduct menial tasks was something Spring was not accustomed to, and she wondered whether this practice was proper.