by G. H. Duval
“We’re not of the right path, Spring,” he explained, his voice the embodiment of fatigue and resignation, “but we can lend our friends here some of our own vitality until Hest arrives.” He patted the neck of the first horse to be bitten and she leaned gratefully into Jate’s hand.
As they tended to the horses, Jate did not allow Spring to join with any of the horses directly. Instead, she joined with Jate through their Aspect, and he wove tendrils of power into the horses. Even watching him through their bond, she could not understand precisely what he did. Knowing well the prohibition of touching beasts with her affinity, she was not sure she wanted to.
Finally, the party made their way back toward the road. As they remounted and started out, Spring took up her normal position at Jate’s side.
“How do we know there aren’t more of them?” she asked, her voice small. She hated that the deaths of the skremlings bothered Jate so; she hated even more that she could not empathize with him. After his chastisement earlier, she feared perhaps something was amiss in her connection with her affinity. But the skremlings had made her skin crawl, and she was not saddened by their demise. In fact, she was scared…scared that more of them could come pouring out of the forest or be waiting for them from some shadowed part of the road.
“I checked,” Jate said, his voice curt. “If there are any more, they are many miles from here. And, it’s simply too cold for them in this part of the country. Whatever brought them this far inland, it won’t persist. They won’t survive for long without heat. A lot more heat than we can manage with a simple fire. And winter is closing in.” He shook his head. “It’s a mystery that will have to keep. Right now, we just need to get you all safely to Coer.”
They rode in silence, the entire party subdued from the shock of what had occurred and simple fatigue. Spring settled her cloak more tightly around her, for full night had come and with it a light breeze that was enough to chill her thoroughly. She stilled, clearing her mind and breathing deeply. In moments, she was able to open a slim channel to her Aspect, just enough to keep the chill at bay. Already, what Jate was teaching her was becoming easier. Her mind and body were adjusting to what her Aspect desired. Tethered thus, her awareness expanded, and the music of her Aspect rose.
The night sang to her through cricket calls and the chirps of bats; through the feral purr of small hunting cats as they stalked their warm-bodied prey. Silent to those around her, an opera was in full-throated performance, and only she and Jate were invited to attend.
She closed her eyes and let the night wash over her—the sound of their horses’ hooves against the paving stones the only thing keeping her awake. Even that steady, trotting beat held a rhythm that seduced her. In this way, they continued through the night, her reverie broken rarely by short, whispered exchanges when Preon allowed them to slow. She appreciated that he was balancing their need to push through the night with the wellbeing of the horses who’d been injured.
She was pulled from her peaceful state by a vibration that rumbled along her Aspect tether. She shifted in her saddle, sitting up straight, forcing herself fully awake. She concentrated and mentally stretched, widening her tether. She found the vibration, could see the ribbon of its effect in her mind—a shimmering snake within the earth. Before she could follow it to its source, the familiar emerald band that was Jate joined her. He wove effortlessly around her, pinning her in place while he moved forward to inspect the new arrival, and crested like a wave over the vibrating stream.
“It’s Hest,” he murmured, his awareness withdrawing as quickly and smoothly as it had arrived.
“Ah,” Spring said, also withdrawing. “Who is he, exactly?”
Jate blinked, looking startled. “Truly?” he asked, regarding her with a genuinely puzzled expression. “I understand that you’ve not been Steading educated, but…” he trailed off, shaking his head. He muttered something she could not make out.
“I was under the impression that all niches, even provincial ones, were required to offer canonical instruction.”
“I can’t speak for all niches, but the one in Hayden’s did teach canon. Of course, it did. I’m not completely ignorant, Master Jate,” Spring protested.
“Is that right? Then what of Valk, or Savantha? Perhaps Veta? Do you recognize any of those names?” His tone was mild, but she sensed a trap in the question.
“Alright, Master Jate. I concede,” she said, sighing. She had not the energy for another lesson in the middle of the longest, strangest night of her life. “What essential information failed to be imparted in our horrid little peasant village, hmm?”
Jate watched her for a beat before he echoed her sigh. “My apologies, Spring.” He shook his head, reaching over and patting her hands where they rested, clasped, on her saddle. “It has been a difficult night and I am out of sorts.”
Spring nodded. She felt the same.
“It’s not that you weren’t taught about the Beast Wardens, for that is who Hest is. He is Beast Warden Hest au Terre su Equis. All the names I mentioned are Wardens, and as an au Terre you simply must be educated about them. About their path. The frustration you rightly surmised I’m feeling comes from our failure, as your elders, to educate you properly.”
He released one final, eloquent sigh. “Thankfully, you’ll be in a proper niche shortly, and you’ll learn all that you should.” He nodded, as if settling an argument with himself.
But Spring had forgotten Jate and his implied insult to her upbringing. She gaped at him. A Beast Warden was on his way? A Beast Warden!
Finally, Jate caught her reaction. “Ah, I see.” Some humor returned to his voice. “You have at least heard of the Wardens, yes?”
Spring nodded, snapping her mouth shut, still at a loss for words. She knew of the au Terre masters in general, of course, but she had not been taught the names of the Shepherds currently serving in the rarified roles. She was thankful that Jayden was riding with her father, discussing the All-Father knew what, and was not there to see her reaction. Just then, she felt the unabashed country rube.
“Well then, it seems you’re in for an even more eventful evening, my dear,” Jate added, chuckling softly.
Spring gathered her wits and shook her reins, leaving Jate behind. She moved toward the western point of their formation where Dodge floated beside Myrra.
“Dodge!” she said as she moved alongside him, her voice an urgent whisper. He looked over, clearly exhausted and barely awake.
“What?” he drawled. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or simply fighting fatigue.
“Did you hear? A Beast Warden is joining us.”
“WHAT?” He was awake now, snapping to attention. He hovered closer to her, their faces inches apart. “What did you say?”
“Did you hear Ella earlier? She said something about fresh horses coming. Said someone named Hest would bring them?”
“Vaguely. Get to the point! You can’t say ‘a Beast Warden is coming’ and then babble about something else, Spring!”
“You idiot!” she snapped. “Hest is the Beast Warden! He’s su Equis!”
Beside them, Myrra began to laugh. A hearty, head-thrown-back, hands-on-her-stomach laugh. “You’re not whispering nearly so softly as you think, young ones,” she said between chortles. Spring pulled herself back, flushing with embarrassment, and Dodge look equally abashed.
“Now listen here, you two,” Myrra continued, apparently sated in her amusement at their expense.
“Yes, the Beast Wardens are special. We all recognize their unique role and abilities. And yes, many of the stories you’ve heard are true. But they’re about real men and women who accomplished extraordinary things.”
She looked at them levelly, ensuring she had their full attention. “Did you hear me? They are, yet, just men and women. Shepherds. Like you, like me. Don’t forget that. And for the Great Shepherd’s sake, don’t embarrass the man when he arrives!”
Eleven
“Doubt brash proclamatio
ns and cleave to the quiet truth of dreams.”
–Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd
Mina had never been taught to swim. In fact, the deepest water in which she had ever been submerged was what her mother’s modest tub could hold. Yet she was swimming now. Floating, more precisely, and the weightlessness of it was magic. The water was cool, but tendrils of warmer currents curled around her—looping around her toes, rolling over her legs and arms, and tickling the back of her neck. She giggled, abandoning herself to happiness. Slowly, she rolled her head from side to side, taking in her surroundings.
Tiny, finger-length fish flashed, darting between the reeds and rocks, which in turn, held their own forms of life. The reeds danced in time with the undulating water, and the rocks shone in subtle variations of grey, blue, and green, thrusting their colors up through the water to merge with the shafts of sunlight breaking through the canopy of trees above.
Mina didn’t recognize the pond or the woods huddled protectively around it, yet, it felt familiar and safe. There was a woman on the bank to her right, watching her calmly, a patient smile resting on full lips. Mina wondered who she was and why she wasn’t worried that Mina might drown, the way her mother would. Her mother would never have allowed Mina to enter the water alone.
Where is my mother? she wondered suddenly, a sliver of alarm piercing her reverie. Then the woman who had been on the bank was suddenly there, floating beside her. She wasn’t that much larger than Mina, and she had a smooth and open face, but Mina knew that the woman was much older than she appeared.
Mina felt drawn to the woman, a deep need to know more sparking within her. The woman’s hair was dark and long, and it fanned out behind her, rising and falling with the gently rolling water. A lavender shaft of light from the rocks below caused the woman’s nearly black hair to appear as if it were glowing with an amethyst shimmer. She stretched a hand toward one of Mina’s, gently taking and holding it, and one of her startling green eyes winked. Mina was giggling again, far too absorbed in the varying shades of green playing in the woman’s eyes to worry about small, silly details like who the woman was or what Mina’s mother might think of this encounter.
“Do you enjoy it here, Mina?” The woman’s voice was as soft and smooth as the water itself.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mina answered politely.
“That’s good.” The black-haired woman smiled, and a surge of warmth enveloped Mina. Without knowing how she did it, Mina moved her body against the woman’s, resting her head against the woman’s shoulder as they bobbed in the water. The woman laughed, and that too sounded like water—soft raindrops melting into a pond.
“This place belongs to you now, Mina. You may return whenever you feel the need. Do you understand?”
The warmth moved into Mina’s mind and with it came understanding. She saw the fabric of life behind the pond, behind the fish, even behind the very sunlight. She touched that fabric with her mind—though she couldn’t say how she knew to do it—hesitantly at first, then more firmly. She smiled when it responded to her touch, yielding to her. She would be able to summon the pond again, whenever she wanted it. The pushing could not follow her here.
The woman made a pleased sound and murmured, “Yes. Exactly.”
Mina soared at her approval.
“For now, we must leave.” The woman turned slightly in the water, her eyes looking down into Mina’s, and one of her delicate hands stroked Mina’s cheek. “I will come as well, whenever you have need. Do not forget. Now wake up, Mina,” she whispered. “Wake up.” And Mina did.
In contrast to the bright day of her dream pond, a dim room greeted her; the curtains were drawn and a single candle flickered at her bedside. She shifted, noting the deep mattress and soft sheets beneath her. A finer bed than her own, she realized, and she sat bolt upright.
“It’s alright, Mina,” came a woman’s voice. Mina turned toward the sound as the woman moved from where she’d sat in shadow to join Mina at the bed. Without hesitation, she sat on the bed, reaching for Mina and stroking her arm comfortingly as if they were long acquainted. Do I know her, Mina wondered, for the woman seemed familiar somehow. She radiated comfort and safety.
The woman turned to face Mina directly, her face coming into focus in the candlelight, and Mina gaped. The woman’s eyes were glowing, pulsing in variations of violet, lavender, and grey.
“You’re a Spirit Shepherd,” Mina breathed, words soft as if in prayer.
“I am, indeed, dear one,” the woman confirmed. “My name is Wilhelmina au L’espri.” She smiled before adding, “It is my deepest pleasure to finally meet you, Mina au L’espri.”
*
“But why must I, Mother,” Mina demanded, knowing she had slipped into a full whine but unable to stop herself. For the last two weeks, she’d had the attention of the Headmistress all to herself. She’d only been away from Mother Wilha when Siare could be with her instead. As momentous as the weeks had been, Mina wanted even more time with the two women; she was not yet ready to face this new world without them.
From one moment to the next, Mina had been elevated from the freakish, sickly child of non-serving Shepherds to a Shepherd, herself. And not just any Shepherd…Mina was now acknowledged as a Seer, and the only current Candidate for the next First Seer! She reeled, still, from the loss of all she’d known—a gulf where her parents and siblings had been—even while she thrilled at the new family she had gained. Two new mothers had come to her aid; they’d explained what had happened to Mina—what had been done to her, by her own mother, no less—and they endeavored to put her back to rights. And while she was grateful beyond measure for their care, a slew of questions undermined her new, promising existence.
“Why must I leave you?” Mina demanded, pressing her case again. “Isn’t it too soon?”
“Mina, do you believe I would ever place you in harm’s way,” Mother Wilha asked.
Mina opened her mouth to answer, but Mother Wilha quirked an eyebrow meaningfully. As she’d been taught, Mina stilled and called to her Aspect, for she knew it for what it was now, and its presence no longer sent her into fits. A sliver of light appeared in her mind’s eye, and she beckoned it until it grew into a pool sufficient to sustain her joining with it. Eyes tingling pleasantly, she regarded Mother Wilha and considered the question. Mina’s light reached for Mother, and Mother’s light reached back. The two tendrils of power touched, coiling briefly, before retracting.
“No, Mother,” Mina said, releasing her Aspect. “You would not.” She sighed, resigned. She knew through her Aspect that Mother Wilha would only do what was best for her.
“Much better,” Mother Wilha murmured. “Come now,” she urged, handing Mina her study-sack, before leading the way from Mina’s room toward the niche tower. “Today is only to be an introduction in any case,” Mother added. “It will be a brief day of niche for you, ending at mid-day. Culari will collect you, and we’ll dine together.”
Four hours, Mina thought. That’s not so long. She nodded but remained silent as they made their way, eventually crossing the glass-enclosed bridge to the tower housing the au L’espri niche. Through the windows, she watched the activity of the students of the natural Aspects moving briskly as they traveled between their dormitories, the dining hall, and their niche buildings. She spotted several pops of lavender heading into the dining hall and smiled. So Spirit Shepherds were allowed to mingle outside of their tower! She’d heard stories, ugly rumors, about how au L’espris were trained, and she was relieved they’d proven as false as so many of the stories about the Steading tended to be.
“I even have a surprise for you,” Mother Wilha said, bringing them to a stop near a door marked with the label: ONE. “Your sister will be joining us this afternoon. Won’t that be nice?”
“Spring?” Mina asked, hope rising deep and strong to burn at her throat, tears threatening to break free. “Do you mean it, Mother? Really?”
Mother Wilha bent to look Mina in the
eye. “Yes, dear one. You’re ready for that, too. You’re both settling in nicely considering all you’ve been through, but it will do you both some good to see each other. I know how you’ve missed her, and she’s missed you just as much.”
Mina squeezed her eyes shut, one happy tear escaping despite her best efforts, as she hugged Mother tight. “Thank you, Mother,” she breathed, face pressed into Mother Wilha’s shimmering grey robes. Mother returned her hug then released her.
Mina stood tall, pulled her study-sack tight against her shoulder, and marched into the room to join her fellow first-year students.
Twelve
“Though I call my Servants to humility and service, Mine is also a call to protect. Woe be to those who would threaten the work done in My name!”
–Helig Ra’d, Teachings of the Great Shepherd
Siare watched as Preon exited the audience chamber with Mina’s parents—Lena and Jasper au Terre—in tow. The patient, forgiving guise she had worn for their benefit slipped away. Despite waiting weeks to confront the two—ordering that they be reintegrated into their respective services and allowing them to ponder their eventual fate—she was still seething from the sheer audacity Lena au Terre had flung in her teeth by hiding Mina. She was equally incensed by the personal affront in Lena’s actions as she was by the harm done to Mina, and with brutal honesty, she admitted she was just as angry with herself. Her inability to support and guide Mother during the Seek was more confirmation that her anointed time was nearly at an end. Yet, as much as she longed for rest, she was not ready to relinquish her place—not with Mina so ill equipped. And not when Mina’s Formynder had yet to be found.
Crucial time to prepare for a proper transition of power had been squandered. All because of the fears of one weak woman! The insolence of the woman pricked at Siare’s basest instincts. She had more than half a mind to recall Lena and teach her a more direct lesson, to issue a sentence more in keeping with the severity of Lena’s transgression.